#silco spiraling

[kaden9]

Whatever’s left of you.

Silco x GN!Reader, angst fic

CW: Heavy angst. Depictions of deteriorating mental and physical health due to drug use (Shimmer). Insomnia, malnourishment, and emotional withdrawal. References to addiction, obsession, and burnout. Themes of caretaking, codependency, and unspoken love. Reader expresses concern but is helpless to stop the self-destruction. Open-ended.

Word Count: ~950

Empty.

That’s the exact word to describe what Silco felt as he sat in his office, the only thing lighting the room was the dimly lit lamp on his desk that would occasionally flicker.

You’d noticed the tremor first.

Subtle. Barely a flicker. Just a twitch in his fingers when he lifted his glass—easily mistaken for nothing if you weren’t always watching.

But you were.

And it got worse.

He started forgetting meals. Snapping at people he usually tolerated. The circles beneath his eyes darkened into bruises. His voice, always rasped and raw, began to crack in ways it never had before.

The vials of Shimmer on his desk multiplied.

You’d catch him standing too still, staring at the walls like something was whispering to him. Or sitting too long in his chair, breathing slow and shallow, eyes wide and unfocused like he wasn’t even there.

“Silco,” you said one night, stepping into the low light of his office, “when’s the last time you slept?”

He didn’t look up from the map. Just clicked the cap off another vial with a sharp snap of his thumbnail.

You crossed the room, heart pounding. “You need to rest.”

“I need this territory secured,” he muttered, injecting the Shimmer into his neck like it was routine. Like it didn’t burn him. “I need people to listen. To comply. And I need to stay alive long enough to make sure Zaun survives.”

“And what happens when you don’t survive it?”

That made him stop.

He looked at you. Really looked. His eye—bloodshot, rimmed with purple veins—flicked over your face like he was trying to memorize you. Like he hadn’t seen you in days.

“You think I haven’t already given everything for this city?” he asked, voice hollow. “There’s nothing left in me to protect.”

Your chest ached. You stepped closer, lowering your voice.

“There’s me.”

He blinked slowly. And something in him faltered.

“I don’t need—” He cut himself off. Shook his head. “You don’t understand.”

“No, you don’t understand,” you snapped, voice cracking. “You’re killing yourself. One vial at a time. One night at a time. And I’m standing here, watching the man I love disappear.”

The silence that followed was unbearable.

Then—barely a whisper:

“Don’t say that.”

You took his hand, trembling. “Say what?”

“That you love me. Not while I look like this.”

You looked at him, exhausted and high and shaking.

“I loved you before this. I still love you through this. And I’ll love you when you come back—if you let yourself.”

His hand tightened in yours. It was cold. And god, you hated how fragile it felt.

He looked at you like he didn’t believe a word—but wanted to.

“I don’t know how to stop,” he whispered.

You stepped into him, pressing your forehead to his. “Then let me help you.”

[f0xseven]

you think your brother will ever really forgive you? you started the end of the world, kid, come on. forget them, join the winning side!

[sticcmann]

Thinking about how singed and sevika are silco’s closest associates and how they’re both dealing with his death

[lumilasi]

I was supposed to be an adult today and do chores like laundry, instead I was bit by an inspiration bug and wrote a horror/mystery themed Vanco fic where they'll eventually get stuck underground and try to escape an unrelenting horrorvillain-esque ghost of sorts who also keeps turning Vander into Warwick for funsies, on and off, much to Silco's horror.

All bc Vander decided to step in and protect Silco from creeps. Also he's ALREADY a lycan, the ghost just makes him lose control over himself at times. Also this ghost is an old aqcuaintance/friend of Vander so there's also that good ol tragic element to it.

(The ghost isn't even canonical character either, I just had an itch to write about an old version of one of my own and he somehow invaded this fic concept lol)

[mollysunder]

For Valentine's Day, it's time to get real about Silco and Singed and the unfulfilled emotional affair they've been carrying out for years. For years, likely over a decade these men have known each other. At first, they most certainly relied on each other out of convenience because who else would have these men that fell from grace?

A disgraced academic and a gangster betrayed by the one closest to him who's living on borrowed time. And yet they found eachother and made it work. Did anyone believe in the potential of Shimmer before Silco supported him? Were there any real pathways to successfully intimidate Piltover before Singed created Shimmer? The worst tragedies of their lives led them to one another, and through each other they enabled their drive and fruition of their deepest desires.

Through the years their partnership never waned, Singed didn't even have hard feelings towards Jinx over the explosion, Silco is comfortable to let her get a second opinion from him. I like to think when Silco adopted Jinx, it unlocked this last barrier to an emotional connection that Silco and Singed were capable of. It wasn't Silco and Singed's escapades in bastardry that enabled eachother's ruthless drive, it was the love both had for their children is what humanized them best to the other.

Now all I can think about is if after saving Jinx's life, when Singed learns that Silco died, he might feel frustration at losing a stable long-term partner. But when Singed learns that it was Jinx who killed Silco, he'll be relieved, because if one had to die that day, it's best for a parent to go than watch theor child do so, Singed can say from experience.

I don't know how to end this.

Tldr: Silco and Singed are the real old man yaoi of Arcane. Happy Valentine's Day!

[quietwingsinthesky]

no because it would have been so easy for arcane to take jinx and portray her as just quirky or edgy with mental illness as extra flavoring to increase that but she’s not.

surface level, she does have some of that ‘lol XD i’m so random’ style of humor written into her, but it’s so often contrasted directly against a moment of pain that you’d have to try very hard to ignore how often she’s using her own impulsive behavior to pull herself off of a spiraling thought pattern. and jinx’s worst episodes are fascinating, visually, but they are literally hard to watch, between the jumpcuts and the time loss and her hallucinations. it would be hard to glamorize her without ignoring everything that’s been shown to you about how stressful it all is.

[aimfor-theheart]

i wish it would only take me a week to write the full version of vi x silco's eldest!reader, enemies to lovers fic of my dreams. unfortunately it wouldn't and i cannot take this on.

[honey-tongued-devil]

[Arcane preference] reacting to someone flirting with their s/o + jealousness

I'll be honest, I had like four headcanons on jealousy (and five on pregnancy, curse on you and your baby fever), so making this headcanon became a priority. Plus, I tried to make it a bit longer. As usual, under the "read more" line, you'll find both my other project for Arcane (a series of vintage-style posters) and my other socials in case you want to follow me because you love me too much.

socials: | INPRNT | | Tip Jar | | X | | BlueSky |

poster: | Jayce poster | | Silco poster 1| | Silco poster 2| |Silco poster 3| | Steb poster |

Jayce:

- He’s not the type to cause a scene, nor is he the aggressive kind.  

- When someone flirts with you in front of him for the first time, he’s confused for a few seconds.  

- The problem begins when the thought starts settling, stagnating, thickening like sediment at the bottom of a bottle. Was the person really hitting on you, or is he just being paranoid?  

- Did they not realize you were together? Or did they do it on purpose?  

- It doesn’t take long for him to start ignoring you, not even on purpose—he suddenly forgets he’s a scientist, a successful adult man, and spirals into a crisis.  

- What if he’s not enough? What if that person realized before him that he wasn’t suited for you?  

- You notice something’s off, but he doesn’t say a word. If it happens again, his fists clench, he feels like the world is collapsing on him, and if it persists, he leaves without even thinking.  

- He doesn’t want to witness that scene; he’s terrified that you might accept the flirtation, that you’ll realize he’s not good enough for you.  

- And if you’re going to leave him, he doesn’t want to see it with his own eyes.  

- Eventually, he’ll be the one to bring up the subject, just to tell you that if you’re tired of him, he won’t hold it against you and that he understands.  

- It’s not true, but he wants to seem mature. He wants to be a good partner until the end and almost breaks down when you reassure him that you don’t want to leave him, that he is enough.

 Viktor:

- Pre-"Arcane s1-tamed" Viktor would snap at the person flirting with you or insult them under his breath.  

- In the wrong moment, with enough alcohol in his system, his reaction could even turn violent.  

- Viktor gets jealous with anger—a mix of fear of being mocked, the lack of control over the situation, and his sense of replaceability set him off.  

- But he’s also an adult. He’ll try to make peace with himself before talking to you about it.  

- Post-"Arcane-tamed" Viktor observes you, tries to read your signals. He’s irritated but keeps calm and even interrupts the situation, pointing out that the two of you have things to do.  

- He doesn’t wait long to bring it up and is straightforward: “Do you like him?”  

- His jealousy is laced with sadness. The thought of losing your warmth, intimacy, and everything he has with you makes him feel empty.  

- He knows he’s often absent because of his research, that it’s hard to be with someone with “special needs” because it can be limiting at times. He’s aware of his unique personality and his background. His anger quickly shifts to resignation, becoming a quiet sorrow.  

- When you try to reassure him, his response is even sadder: “I know I’m hard to love. I don’t blame you.”  

- When someone hits on you, as soon as you’re alone, he holds you closer. During cuddles, he breathes in your scent deeply, as if trying to memorize you in case he will ever have to remember you.

 Ekko:

- At the Tree, it’s pretty normal. They share everything, and everyone is just very friendly. If someone flirts with you at the Firelight hideout, he laughs, jokes, and stays calm.  

- The problem arises outside of that safe space.  

- When someone from outside flirts with you, he’s stunned for a moment, but if it continues, he leaves before you can even respond.  

- He knows that if he stayed, things might escalate.  

- “I didn’t like how that guy was talking to you,” he blurts out when you try to talk to him, but it’s obvious the issue cuts deeper than that. His tone and downcast eyes reveal that it’s more significant than it seems.  

- Living at the Tree has taken your relationship to a deeper level. You take care of the kids together, share everything, and live as part of a big interconnected family.  

- The idea of someone threatening the peace of his home, his family, makes him feel like those things he takes for granted could suddenly change. 

- That tomorrow, you might no longer be his “married” partner but two strangers.

 Vander:

- Vander is too old to be jealous, and has been in enough strange and ambiguous situations not to overreact.  

- If someone flirts with you, maybe at the bar in front of him, he chuckles to himself, commenting only after the person leaves that you’re so attractive no one can resist you.  

- He doesn’t like it, but it often makes him smile to see others recognize what he sees in you.  

- On the night when someone is particularly persistent or you seem to laugh more than usual, he taps his finger on the bar, contemplating what to do. When he catches your eye, he simply mouths, “If you want to go, don’t worry—I’ll close the bar.”  

- It’s not about being open to a polyamorous relationship, don’t misunderstand. He believes that a relationship should be based on the fact that you actively choose to be with him, not on obligation. That’s why he gives you the freedom to back out if you want.  

- When you shake your head, refuse the other person, and stay with him—maybe touching his hand at the bar when he has a moment of peace—he looks at you with an indescribable tenderness.  

- “I’m glad you’re here with me,” he whispers when you’re finally alone, holding you tightly in his arms.  

Silco:

- On one hand, he’s too old to make a scene, but when he sees someone flirting with you right in front of him, something inside him falters.  

- Being able, after so many years, to form such a deep bond with someone put him in a state of comfort he hadn’t realized might one day be taken away.  

- Suddenly, that possibility becomes real, vivid. Outwardly, he shows no emotion and doesn’t lose his composure for even a moment—because if he did, he might lose control. But inside, he feels like he’s dying.  

- If you laugh a little too much or don’t explicitly reject the person, the turmoil inside him intensifies rapidly.  

- He’s been through too much, and his mind is wired to “strike before being struck,” which is why he immediately becomes colder, seeking emotional distance to avoid being vulnerable.  

- He’s not the king of good communication. If you try to ask him what’s wrong, he’ll dodge the question. It’ll take a lot of effort on your part to understand what triggered his behavior, to talk to him and reassure him gently, never too directly.  

- You’ll need to show him, through actions, that you haven’t left and don’t plan to before he starts acting normal again—becoming more physically affectionate when you’re alone.  

 Jinx:

- Jinx is possessive and jealous, living in constant fear of being both not enough and too much at the same time—of losing everything she has and being abandoned by anyone who can still leave her.  

- It’s in those rare moments when the buzzing behind her eyes quiets, when she’s at rest, that for a single second, just one fleeting instant, she allows herself to forget that fear.  

- And then, when you’re together, and someone pays you a compliment that makes you laugh, something snaps in her head.  

- Do you know them? Why are they so friendly? Why don’t you say something? Why did you stop walking? Walk, dammit, walk. Why are they touching your shoulder? Why don’t you stop them? Why don’t you stop them? WHY DON’T YOU STOP THEM.  

- The likelihood that the person who flirted with you ends up found the next day with a broken limb in a dumpster is extremely high.  

- But even that doesn’t calm her. When you get home, she isolates herself, spiraling into thoughts that maybe, if you could, you’d have gone with that person or followed them.  

- She’ll need lots of affirmation and both verbal and physical reassurance before she calms down.  

Vi:

- Her jealousy exists, it’s there, but she expresses it in a very straightforward way.  

- Having been forced to grow up too quickly and unable to throw tantrums because she was responsible for her siblings, her emotions have always been carefully bottled up and dealt with through questionable coping mechanisms.  

- Sure, having someone by her side now means she can’t go brawling in the streets, especially when the reason feels so trivial.  

- Usually, she doesn’t even pay much attention to it, but this time, exhaustion, stress, or a moment of vulnerability probably made the situation unbearable.  

- And as always, if you have questions no one can answer, the solution is probably at the bottom of a glass.  

- She doesn’t want to burden you with how she feels; it’s not even your fault, and she knows it’s stupid to feel this way. But when she’s forced to confront the idea that you may not a constant in her life, that maybe you want something better, something more—at that moment, she needs to get out, to scream, to punch something, with enough alcohol in her system to pass out in an alleyway.  

- She struggles to talk about it, hates making you responsible for her emotions, and hates that she has to make you worry when it’s not your fault.  

- When you bring it up and try to approach her with an attitude that makes her feel reassured, she has moments of being emotionally fragile, more vulnerable than usual.  

 Caitlyn:

- This woman is a lady killer—it’s sadly very normal for people to get jealous of her.  

- At work, during conferences, or noble meetings, she’s used to people flirting with her. That’s why, when she sees someone flirting with you, her first thought is that they might be making you uncomfortable.  

- If she sees you’re actually uncomfortable, she’ll personally step in to ensure the other person leaves.  

- If she doesn’t see you uncomfortable, she’ll observe you for a few minutes, becoming distracted and absent from her own conversations, lost in analyzing what she’s seeing. -However, she dislikes waiting to address issues, so expect her to ask if something is wrong between the two of you as soon as you’re home.  

- Caitlyn’s issue is that her thoughts ferment. If she doesn’t address the matter immediately, each day will make her mood worse, leading to unnecessary tension.  

- She might not shake off that strange feeling immediately and could remain distant until the next day, but it’s not punitive. Her emotions catch her off guard and make her colder unintentionally.  

- She’ll make up for it completely the following day.  

- She’ll also ensure she gets matching rings for both of you, so they can serve as a signal to others.  

 Mel:

- For Mel, jealousy is just bitterness.  

- She doesn’t show it. Her training in always appearing reliable and cordial means she’s adept at masking her feelings. So, when she sees someone flirting with you at a gala, her gaze lingers for just a few moments before she returns to smiling at her conversation partner.  

- A little passive-aggressive, with comments like “I saw you had fun” or “So, tell me about…”—but not meant to provoke you.  

- She’s the first to acknowledge that at meetings and galas, one must be adaptable, charming, smiley, and captivating. She knows that flirting is often part of the façade or just a small piece of a larger strategy, so what may sound like provocation is usually her way of asking what was on your mind.  

- Her bitter jealousy becomes stronger and more genuine when there’s no strategy, no deeper game, but the person continues attending events and spends all their time trying to flirt with you. In these cases, she won’t hesitate to interrupt with a firm, “Excuse us,” and lead you to the balcony.  

- No scene, no lecture—just a curt and slightly sad, “I only ask that you don’t make a fool of me.”  

- When reassured that there was never even the intention of doing so, she becomes almost an accomplice. Have fun (within limits), gather amusing or trivial information, and tell her all about it later when you’re alone under the sheets.  

 Sevika:

- Sorry to disappoint, but she’s the least jealous character here.  

- Her most stable relationships have all been at the brothel. If someone flirts with you, she’ll wait until the person leaves to comment on how slimy they were or how you seem to attract everyone without exception.  

- Zaun is precarious; her job is precarious; even staying alive is extremely precarious. She doesn’t have time for jealousy. To her, it wouldn’t make sense to get angry or even cause a scene just because someone flirts with you when she can’t be around much or offer you stability herself.  

- She knows perfectly well that her mechanical arm, her boss, her boss’s daughter, the drug use, and the dangerous work she does make her someone it’s hard to stay close to. But this doesn’t make her insecure—rather, it makes her grateful.  

- It’s your choice to stay by her side, and if you ever want to leave, she believes you should feel free to do so without fearing any outburst from her.  

- When you reassure her that you’d never betray, replace, or leave her, she pulls you close with one arm, kisses your forehead, and gives the faintest smile.  

- That said, if someone flirts too much and you complain about their persistence, Sevika will handle it diplomatically—by picking them up and slamming them against the wall in front of you, making sure the point sinks in effectively.  

[animeshotsh]

Moms | Jinx x Fem!Reader | Arcane ¤

Summary: You are worried since your girlfriend has dissapear since Silco's death. Only for her to show up at your home, but not alone.

Warnings: SFW - SOFT - OFF CANON IN TERMS OF TIME - Worm joke - grammar mistakes - spoiler s2 - sad!reader - mentions of alcohol -

Even since the big explosion that took place in the uppercity the undercity had gone into a crisis of gang fights and just more violence.

No one really knew what had happened, there were rumors of Silco being dead, but who attacked the uppercity?

Well, since Jinx your girlfriend was a fan of gadgets, guns and bombs, and how she had stopped coming to your home to visit you, you connected the dots.

Then when her face was in a wanted poster it became real.

God you were scared for her, where was she? Was she safe? You did check her usual hideouts and the ones that were secretly for the both of you so no one would target you. But nothing. You were left with zero trace of her.

You had to push yourself out of your home to work and put a fake face of not caring when someone mentioned her, or when you saw the enforcments go around.

~~~~~~

Your day was long, so when you finally got home you left yourself fall on the old couch. Dust covered the place even if you have tried many times to clean it.

Just like any other night you started to feel sad, memories of you and Jinx coming back. How you met her, how she seemed curious of you at first and how you had felt like her experiment, then your first kiss with her, the cuddles, doing her hair and nails....

And so you started to cry again but your spiral of depression would have to wait since a knock at your door alerted you.

Now, you were born and raised in the undercity, you knew how dangerous it could be, thats why you have trained yourself on being able to use knifes and be quick on your feet.

You swiftly took out your blade going in silence towards the door, the knocking continued, being more frenetic.

Your heart went up fast your brain already thinking on vitals points to hit and a back door from the apparment complex till you hear it.

"No! Im not shooting her door"

That voice...

"Well because she is nice? You will love her, but no more than me"

You went quickly and opened it revealing a figure under a cape, but you could see the blue hair and pink eyes.

You were fast on pulling her in, no noticing the small kid that followed by her hand.

"Jinx! Fucking hell, are you alright? Wait, thats blood? Its not yours right? I need to get you cleaned, hold up"

Just as you were going to go and look for something she pulled you back and kissed you, it felt different, like this was a kiss that was more to ground herself than anything.

"Just...just shut up. And its not mine"

Jinx said getting away a bit. She could see your worried expression and by the look of your aparment and the alcohol bottles she could tell you had been dealing with a lot.

Fuck, why did she hurt anyone who got close?

Her mind stopped when she saw you go down on your knees and see behind her leg.

"Why do you have a kid with you?" You asked seeing the dirty kid who looked back at you then at Jinx then at you.

Jinx and the kid seemed to talk without saying a word, then with a nod from her the kid went to you and hugged you.

You were suprised and a bit taken back, but hugged her back.

"Suprise! You are a mom now, I know you have said how you wanted to adopt a kid if you could"

You gave a Jinx a pointed look then separated from the kid who had a different look now, a look of...fondness?

"Jinx...I- Im not even going to ask. Im just glad you are fine"

Her heart broke at your honest words and loving smile. She did swear no one would take you from her.

~~~~~~~~

Jinx insisted on you moving to her hideout, saying that someone could have seen her and your house was not safe anymore.

Honestly? You thought she was trying to make her own world there. A place where she, Isah and you could live under colors, see insects fights. Play hideout and just....be a family.

When Isah went to sleep you went to Jinx who was messing with her old gun, not getting it back together just...moving pieces.

"Jinx, you know this cant last forever" You had started to say slowly getting her to stop messing and look at you.

"Dont tell me you agree with lefty?"

You snorted at the nickname she had gave to Sevika.

"No, well maybe a bit. Look i dont want you to be a vigilant or anything, i want you to be whatever you wanna be. But, we are in difficult times now, and you Jinx" You said taking her hands in yours "You are what is keeping the others together, something i have never imagined"

"Because I jinx everything, right?"

You moved your head and made her look directly at you.

"You dont do that. Stop saying that. You met me, and we are together right? We have been together for so long, i dont plan on going anywhere".

"...Even if i turn into a worm?"

"Yes Jinx, even if you turn into a worm. I will still be at your side, loving you  and caring for you. But i wont let you be on our fights, sorry but you would be a loser"

And with both of your laughts the bitter reallity seemed to go away at least for now.

[nyxs2]

Ma Meilleure Ennemie (pt 2/?)

Do you know what the main problem with addiction is? It's that it always demands more. And unfortunately for you, Silco was an addicted man.

Silco x fem!Reader

Rating: Explicit (18+, MDNI)

Word Count: 5,2K

Warnings: smut, resolved sexual tension, oral sex (f!receiving), dirty talk, orgasm edging, overstimulation, you work in the brothel, Silco POV (when to start smut), Silco being the little control freak that he is. Set before the events of Act 2 of the first season of Arcane.

Part 1

Okay, I didn't expect the previous chapter to be so successful, so thank you to everyone who read it. Just a few warnings: Silco's actions can be quite controversial (you'll understand at the end), he's an antagonistic character and we have to recognize that he's not a saint. If you came here expecting something like "love at first sight", I'm sorry to tell you that there's going to be a long road to that. Remember, there's a fine line between love and obsession.

The month had flown by too quickly, and you barely noticed Silco's absence from the brothel. Since that night, he seemed to have vanished, and the days resumed their usual rhythm. With the generous bonus he had left, you managed to cut back on your workload, bringing a sliver of relief to your otherwise exhausting routine. Today was one of those calmer days. Your last session hadn't been physical; your regular client, Kate, a young woman with stunning green eyes, just wanted to talk.

You spent the time discussing her recent achievements. She had been clean from shimmer for three months and, with visible excitement, shared her plans to become a designer. She had even landed an internship at a boutique in Piltover. Despite being a paying client, your relationship with her felt closer to a friendship. You genuinely cared about her progress and rooted for her, even though you knew the harsh world of Piltover could extinguish the dreams of Zaunites as easily as a gust of wind snuffing out a candle.

The brothel had this misunderstood duality. It wasn't just a place of pleasure and debauchery, as many thought, but also a refuge for the lonely, even if those moments were as rare as fresh air in Zaun.

After the session, you sat at the vanity in the dressing room, touching up your makeup. It was a moment of pause, preparing to finally leave for the night. That's when hurried, hesitant footsteps reached your ears. Through the mirror, you saw Babette enter, her yordle face pale as if she'd seen a ghost.

"What's wrong, Babette?" you asked, frowning.

"He's back," she said in a hurried whisper, and you froze. There was no need to specify who. His name hung like a curse that no one dared to utter. "And he asked for you... in the same room."

A sigh escaped your lips as you nodded, trying to mask the storm brewing inside you. Your body moved automatically, brushing past a Babette who looked almost regretful on your behalf.

The conflicting sensations within you were hard to define—a mix of nerves and something akin to excitement. Part of you was eager to see him again, while another feared what this meeting might bring. It was a wave that swung between the warmth of reunion and the chill of apprehension. It was impossible to predict Silco's intentions with you.

Yet, despite the uncertainty, a part of you relished the idea of facing him again.

The curtains parted just as they had during your first meeting, and you stepped into the room with hesitant steps—but firm enough to mask the storm raging within you. There he was, Silco, seated on the sofa like he owned the world—or at least your little corner of chaos. This time, a cigar rested between his fingers, its smoke spiraling lazily toward the ceiling. A bottle of amber liquor and two glasses were set before him on the table.

You raised an eyebrow, crossing your arms as you regarded him, trying to keep your expression impassive. "Miss me?" The provocation slipped out in an almost sweet tone, but the mockery woven into the edges of your words was there for anyone sharp enough to catch. And, of course, he did.

His eyes lifted to meet yours, and the smile that formed on his lips was... unsettling. A slow, predatory smile that made your entire body tense, unsure whether to prepare for a fight or flight. But running from Silco was never really an option, was it?

"Miss you?" he repeated, his voice low, almost a dangerous purr, as he brought the cigar to his lips and took a long drag. The smoke escaped in a deliberate exhale as he leaned back even further into the sofa. "I've been rather busy, dove. Running a city isn't exactly a part-time job."

His voice carried an intensity that seemed to cut through your skin and lodge itself directly in your nerves. His eyes were a weapon all their own, assessing you with clinical precision as though he could decode every emotion you tried to hide. Frustration? Undoubtedly. Curiosity? Perhaps. And something else... something you refused to name but which made your stomach churn and your breath quicken.

"Ah, of course... I forgot you rule Zaun. I thought it was just a hobby of yours." The words left your mouth dripping with sarcasm, a smirk tugging at your lips. You knew exactly how to provoke him, even if it meant walking a tightrope with Silco.

But he laughed. Not a short or biting laugh, but a rich, full chuckle that echoed through the cramped walls of the room. His reaction was almost disconcerting, as if he were genuinely amused by your defiance.

"I prefer to think of it as a calling. Someone has to keep these streets in line, after all," Silco retorted, bringing the cigar back to his lips and taking a deep drag. "Drink with me." He gestured casually toward the empty glass beside his with a flick of his hand, as if this were the most normal thing in the world—as if he hadn't disappeared for an entire month and was now acting as though nothing had happened.

You blinked once, twice, frowning at his offer. Surprised was an understatement. Even so, your feet carried you to the sofa, where you sat down beside Silco. Your gaze drifted to the glass placed in front of you, but you made no move to pick it up.

"Drink something from you? I thought I'd made it clear I'm not naive." Your voice was sharp, cutting, and you made no effort to hide what you thought. The accusation lingered in the air, but Silco seemed unfazed. On the contrary, the smile on his lips deepened, as though your suspicion was yet another point in his favor.

"Relax, dove." He set the cigar in the ashtray and leaned forward slightly, his eyes fixed on yours. "I may be many things, but I'm not the type to drug my... companions. I prefer them fully aware of what's happening."

Before you could respond, you felt his hand rest on your thigh, his fingers drawing lazy circles over the fabric of your skirt. The touch was too light to be casual but confident enough to show he knew exactly what he was doing.

"Besides," he continued, leaning in a little closer, "I don't need tricks. You came to me willingly last time, remember? And I'm certain you'll do the same again."

You held your breath for a moment—not out of fear but from the tension building in the air. It had been mere minutes, and already you were spiraling into this dangerous, sexual dance. When he reached for the bottle and poured two glasses, the sound of the amber liquid filling the glass seemed to fill the charged space between you. He slid one of the glasses in your direction, his fingers brushing against yours briefly, and that fleeting touch was like a surge of heat, reigniting memories you'd rather not dwell on now.

The cold glass against your fingers was solid, tangible, but the same couldn't be said for Silco's intentions. Swirling the liquid in the glass, you watched its viscosity under the light, searching for any sign of hidden betrayal. You brought the glass to your nose, inhaling deeply. Nothing unusual. No suspicious scent. Just the strong, familiar aroma of an expensive drink.

"Now, don't be rude. It's a rare vintage, and I insist," he said, his voice dropping a few tones, more of a command than an invitation. "Or are you afraid you can't handle me after a drink?"

He raised his own glass to his lips, his eyes never leaving yours, taking a long sip and savoring the warmth the liquor seemed to bring. He was testing you, and you knew it.

"Oh... I can handle more than you think." You let the double meaning linger in the air, noting how quickly Silco caught on from the faint curl at the corner of his mouth. Then, your gaze shifted back to the drink in your hands.

A sigh escaped internally. Damn it. Against all your instincts, you decided to trust him—at least this once. Bringing the glass to your lips, you took a small sip.

The flavor was unexpected, complex. First, a gentle warmth spread across your tongue and slid down your throat, followed by a hint of sweetness that balanced the burn. You licked your lips, savoring the woody notes mingling with a subtle touch of caramel. It was... different. Something you'd never tasted before.

You almost let out a surprised sigh but managed to hold it back. However, you knew your expression had betrayed you. Worse still, you were certain Silco had noticed. His sharp gaze seemed to miss nothing, and he'd been watching you the entire time. Quickly recovering, you masked your face with indifference, though the effort felt pointless. Pretending nothing affected you had always been one of your sharpest weapons for surviving life in Zaun, but it seemed to fail irritatingly often when it came to him.

"So, tell me..." Silco resumed the conversation, his tone adopting a casual air, as if you were merely chatting. "What have you been up to while I've been away? I hope you haven't been entertaining any other clients in my absence."

"Well," you began, leaning back on the sofa, mimicking his casual tone while swirling the glass in your fingers, watching the liquid sway with the motion. "As far as I know, we're not exclusive."

You let your words hang in the air for a moment before taking another sip of your drink. This time, you kept your eyes fixed on the glass, pretending Silco's presence was just a shadow at the edge of your awareness. "So yes, I've been with other clients."

When you finally lifted your gaze, you met his eyes. They glimmered with something between amusement and danger, and the smile you offered Silco was anything but innocent. You knew you were playing with fire by provoking him so openly without any idea how he might react, but as the damned gambler you were, you could never resist a risky game—even if it meant losing your winning hand.

"Why?" you asked, your voice dripping with audacity as you calmly placed your now-empty glass on the table. "Are you jealous?"

"Jealous? No, I wouldn't say that." He paused, taking a slow, deliberate sip from his drink. "More like... protective. You see, dove, once I set my sights on something, I have a hard time sharing."

He set his glass down on the table with a faint but deliberate thud of glass against wood. You had pressed his buttons, that much was clear, but he didn't seem annoyed by your bratty attitude.

Silco settled back into the sofa, mirroring your posture, but with an air of authority that seemed to dominate the room. He leaned back slightly, his legs spreading just enough to make a point, the motion causing his coat to fall open. The glimpse of what looked like a holster at his hip seemed accidental—perhaps he didn't even remember carrying it. It was as natural to him as breathing.

He turned to you, his hand moving to your chin, tilting your face so your eyes would meet his. "But I'm a reasonable man," he continued, his tone soft, almost comforting, yet carrying an intensity that made your skin prickle. "I understand the nature of our... arrangement. You're a courtesan, and I'm merely a client. Nothing more, nothing less."

His thumb brushed against your lower lip, the touch as light as a feather, teasing. "Which is why I think it's time we renegotiate the terms, don't you?" His voice dropped a few tones lower. "I'm willing to pay for your exclusive services."

You couldn't deny the tension rippling through your body as Silco leaned in further, narrowing the space between you until his presence felt like the only thing that existed in your world. His touch on your chin was firm but not rough, a silent reminder of the absolute control he maintained over himself—and, in some ways, over you.

You allowed him to guide your face upward, a silent concession that you were willing to play along—at least within the rules that suited you.

His eyes were both an invitation and a threat, a contrast that should have been intimidating. But, to your surprise, you felt something else entirely.

It wasn't fear.

It was pride.

There was an unexpected, almost visceral pride within you, knowing that he wanted you—and made no effort to hide it. It was both unsettling and... perversely satisfying.

When Silco moved again toward you, the motion caused his coat to fall open further, fully revealing the holster strapped to his hip. The metallic gleam of the pistol's barrel caught the dim light, and your eyes lingered on it for a moment. The sight evoked a disconcerting mix of emotions: fear and excitement, battling for dominance within you.

You knew the gun wasn't there merely for protection. It was a silent statement, a symbol of power—and also of control. Silco didn't make empty threats, and the presence of that weapon made it abundantly clear. So classic, so predictable, you thought, though you couldn't deny there was something undeniably alluring about the image: danger so blatant yet so meticulously restrained.

That contrast was almost suffocating. The implicit threat of the weapon combined with the soft, almost intimate tone of his voice stirred something deep within you. It was a brutal reminder of the risks of being this close to him, but also irrefutable proof of the kind of power he wielded—not just physical but psychological.

This is not good, you told yourself, suppressing a shiver that could have been apprehension—or excitement. You knew how dangerous it would be to let Silco see you as his. The words you had spoken the last time you met applied to him perfectly, and to your misfortune, Silco was possessive by nature, his ambition only amplifying that trait.

But it was too late to turn back. You had already captured his attention once, and here he was again, returning to your arms like an addict seeking his next fix. And it was clear he wouldn't stop until he had you entirely.

"This negotiation..." you began, your voice lower, tinged with something that could have been scorn or desire, even you couldn't tell. "Isn't open."

The silence that followed was heavy, every word hanging in the air like a scale about to tip. There was refusal in your voice, but despite your efforts, there was also a trace of something else... something that could easily be mistaken for lust. And his gaze caught every nuance of it.

Slowly, your eyes drifted from his to his lips, but not before letting him see the small detour they took back to the pistol. As though you were weighing your options, calculating the risks, even though you knew all of them ended with him.

It was like walking a tightrope over an abyss, and both ends led directly to Silco. Two different fates, equally perilous.

"But," you continued, and your voice was almost a whisper now, deliberately laden with heat. Your mind screamed at you to stop, but the words had already taken shape. "You can try to convince me." It was a dangerous strategy, and Silco was toxic in every sense. But just like an addict depended on their drug, perhaps you could turn that dependence into an advantage for yourself.

Silco's eyes darkened, a fierce hunger burning within them as your defiant words left your lips. A low growl reverberated in his chest, heavy with intensity. He noticed the way your gaze roamed over him, like a flame consuming everything in its path. He also noticed—with dangerous satisfaction—the subtle quickening of your pulse, visible in the delicate line of your neck.

You were playing with fire, and Silco was more than willing to let you burn.

Before you could react, he moved with the swiftness of a serpent, pinning you against the couch. In one fluid motion, he seized control, trapping you beneath the weight of his body. His hands captured your wrists with firm precision, raising them above your head as he positioned himself between your thighs.

His hips pressed against yours, a slow and deliberate motion laden with intent. Your body acted before your mind could comprehend, arching to meet the contact.

"Oh, dove..." he murmured, his voice low and rough, each word caressing your skin like silk. His lips hovered near your throat, and you felt the warmth of his breath against the exposed skin. "I intend to convince you, and I think you'll find I'm quite... persuasive."

His lips found the curve of your neck, skimming over your skin with a dangerous blend of gentleness and possessiveness. When his teeth grazed your flesh, they didn't break the surface, but the implicit promise in every touch made your heart race. You knew he could, and you also knew you wouldn't fight him.

The control he exerted over you was intoxicating, but it wasn't just physical. There was something about the way he read you, how every sigh, every tremor of your body seemed to fuel him.

When his fingers released your wrists, you didn't move your hands from where he had placed them, as if the freedom he had given you was an illusion. Instead, you closed your eyes, feeling his hands glide down your body, his fingers tracing an almost lazy path that ignited every nerve in your skin.

His fingers reached the curve of your waist, pausing just long enough to apply a slight squeeze—a possessive touch that sent a shiver down your spine. He followed the contour of your hips, his movements as subtle as they were provocative. Then, with a deliberate motion, he tugged the hem of your skirt upward, revealing your skin inch by inch, as if each bit was a gift to be uncovered. The air grew heavier, each second stretching into eternity.

"You have no idea what you make me feel," he murmured, his voice a mix of confession and temptation, perhaps more to himself than to you. "The things I want to do to you..."

His breathing grew uneven, heavier, and before you realized it, your thighs tightened around his hips, as if to hold him there, in that exact place where the world seemed to have stopped.

"Then do them," you murmured, your voice hoarse, barely a whisper. This moment was his. And somehow, it didn't feel wrong, even though part of you knew you might regret it later.

But right now, in this instant, regret was the furthest thing from your mind.

Silco's Pov ━━━━━━━༺༻━━━━━━━━

"Careful what you wish for, dove..."

Silco's eyes darkened with lust as he watched her writhe beneath him, her body arching into his touch as if she were starving for it. He could feel the heat of her core pressing against his cock, even through the layers of clothing that separated them, and it took every ounce of his self-control not to rip them off and bury himself inside her right then and there. To feel that warm feeling that had been trapped in his mind for that damn month of being away from her. But he held himself back, it wasn't about him this time, as he would have other opportunities. He wanted to savor every moment of her surrender, to engrave the memory of it in his mind for years to come.

Slowly, teasingly, he trailed his lips down the column of her neck, his tongue darting out to taste her skin before sucking on her pulse point, leaving a mark. Relishing the way she gasped and writhed beneath him, her hands finally moved to tangle in his hair.

He leaned back, standing erect with his gaze fixed on that which he now coveted. He hooked his fingers beneath the waistband of her panties and pulled them down her legs, exposing her to his hungry gaze. This was something he had wanted to do since their first meeting.

Silco settled between her thighs, his breath ghosting over her slick folds. He looked up at her through his lashes, his eyes glittering with dark promise. "Look at you, dove. So wet for me already... Such a needy little thing." he murmured before dipping his head and pressing a kiss to her clit.

He started slowly, his tongue lapping at her slit, savoring the taste of her arousal. He traced the seam of her lips, teasing her entrance before flicking his tongue over her clit, again and again, until she was writhing beneath him, her hands fisting in his hair.

He slid a finger inside her, then two, pumping them in and out of her tight heat, at first slowly. He curled them just so, searching for that special spot that would make her see stars. Silco felt her inner walls contract and vibrate around his fingers. He could tell she was getting close to her peak. Leaning down, he sealed his lips around her throbbing clit and sucked hard, flicking the sensitive nub quickly with the tip of his tongue.

At the same time, he pumped his fingers faster, rubbing mercilessly against that specific spot. Her thighs trembled and tensed on either side of his head as he took her right to the edge... then pulled back a little, wanting to prolong her torment a little longer before finally pushing her over the edge of blissful oblivion. He heard her whimper his name, her voice sounding tearful and frustrated. Then her little fingers tried to pull his face back into place between her thighs: "Easy, dove." He let his fingertip slide over her clit, circular motions that drove her to the edge, but weren't enough to give her what she wanted. "Silco..." her voice escaped in a hoarse moan, filled with a mixture of need and desperation. Sounding like a melody for Silco. "Say 'please' and I might let you cum." Silco's voice left no room for reply and this only made her even more frustrated. Her back arched and she tried again to pull Silco towards her. Her attempts failed. Silco then sped up the movement of her finger, noticing how easy it was to bring her to the edge again... and just as easy to slow down.

The second denied orgasm drew a reaction from her. "Please! Fuck.. I beg you... please!

He smirked as she begged so sweetly, the word "please" falling from her lips like a prayer. Oh, how he adored when she got like this - pride and poise cast aside in favor of raw, aching need. Silco was more than happy to oblige her, diving back in with renewed fervor. He savored the taste, groaning low in his throat as he feasted on her like a starving man, his fingers pumped steadily, curling just to brush that spot inside her. He felt her thighs clamp down around his head, heard her screaming his name as she came undone, her release flooding his mouth.

But Silco didn't stop. He kept going, riding her through her orgasm and straight into another, his tongue lashing at her sensitive flesh, his fingers pumping in and out of her clenching heat. He could feel her fighting it, her body tensing, trying to pull away from the too-much sensation, but he held her in place, determined to wring every last drop of pleasure from her.

He felt her come again, harder this time, her body convulsing beneath him, her hands fisting in his hair so tightly it bordered on pain. He swallowed every drop of her release, groaning at the taste of her, the feel of her coming apart for him.

Only when she went limp beneath him, her body spent and trembling, did Silco finally relent. He pulled back, licking his lips as he admired his handiwork - His sweet dove sprawled on the couch, her chest heaving, her skin flushed and glistening with sweat. She looked utterly debauched, and fuck if it wasn't the hottest thing he'd ever seen. A sight that had to be for his eyes only.

"Perfect." He whispered to the void as you seemed to be passed out. Nothing could take away his sense of pride in having reduced you to a limp body lying on the couch, although a part—the one deep inside him—was irritated by the mere idea that someone else could do the same to you. "We can't let that happen, don't you think?"

A rhetorical question to which he already had an answer.

━━━━━━━༺༻━━━━━━━━ 

You blacked out for a second. You'd like to say you lasted longer after the first, but that would be a blatant lie. With Silco consuming you completely—in presence, touch, scent, and the rough sound of his voice—it was impossible to resist. He pushed you to the edge once more, and when you finally fell, the orgasm that crashed over you was even more devastating than the first.

You collapsed onto your side, utterly boneless, as though every bone in your body had dissolved. The exhaustion was so overwhelming that the line between consciousness and unconsciousness blurred with each passing moment. Every muscle in your body screamed in surrender, yet you still found enough energy to let out a soft whimper as you adjusted your legs, trying to ease the discomfort.

Your body was in a state of hyperawareness. You could feel every little detail: the slow but persistent throbbing between your legs, the sensitive, swollen ache of your clit, both painful and pleasurable as the pressure of your thighs shifted.

The heavy silence of the room was broken only by the sound of your ragged, uneven breathing. Each breath felt like an effort, but you began to relax, letting your muscles go slack against the couch. And then you felt it.

His gaze.

Even with your eyes closed, you knew Silco was watching. It was impossible to ignore. Those eyes had the power to strip you bare, as though he could see beyond flesh, directly into what you tried to hide—vulnerability, desire, surrender.

Opening your eyes slowly, you blinked a few times, dislodging the tears that clung stubbornly to your lashes. Your lips curled into a trembling, tired but genuine smile as your gaze found his face. Silco didn't look away. His expression was unreadable, but there was something in his eyes—dangerous and tender all at once—that made you shift uncomfortably, even in your exhaustion.

"That was the first time..." you began, your voice breathless, your chest still rising and falling rapidly as you tried to catch your breath. "By Janna... twice in a row... How is that even possible?"

The words came out in an almost incredulous tone, with a hint of exhausted laughter. You didn't know how he did it, but it seemed Silco knew exactly what to do with your body. Where to touch, what to say, which buttons to press... absolutely everything.

"Give me a minute," you continued, your voice strained with fatigue. "I don't think I can do anything else right now. My body has officially shut down, and it's your fault."

Despite the exhaustion, there was a note of humor in your voice, something you knew he'd pick up on. But it was the truth. Every fiber of your being felt like it had been pushed to its limit, and for the first time in what felt like forever, you had no urge to fight it.

Silco leaned over you, brushing a damp strand of hair away from your face with a surprisingly gentle, almost reverent gesture. The touch was a stark contrast to the roughness of his calloused fingers. "Don't worry about me, dove," he murmured, his voice low and smooth, like a whispered melody in the darkness. "I'm more than satisfied with how the night turned out."

He then pressed a light kiss to the corner of your mouth. The fleeting touch was almost contradictory, an unspoken promise hidden behind the faint, teasing smile that played on his lips. "Now, catch your breath. Compose yourself."

He moved away with his usual natural elegance. As he adjusted his clothes, straightening his suit with meticulous care, smoothing out his trousers; taking more careful care of this part for obvious reasons, and running his fingers through his slightly disheveled hair, you watched him silently. He seemed lost in his own world as he tidied himself.

Silco then turned his attention back to you, extending a steady hand to help you sit properly on the couch. With surprising care, he adjusted your skirt, a gesture that felt almost chivalrous coming from the same man who had undone it in the first place. But what truly caught your attention was the way he picked up the garment he had removed from you earlier—your underwear—and slipped it into his trouser pocket without even attempting to hide the act.

You opened your mouth, perhaps to protest, but before you could utter a word, he had already shrugged off his jacket and draped it over your shoulders. The weight of the expensive fabric pressed against your skin, warm from his body heat, carrying his unmistakable scent: lingering tobacco, worn leather, and a metallic note that reminded you of burnt gunpowder or rust. It wasn't necessary—you knew that—but he seemed to relish the idea of covering you, marking the moment with a gesture that was as possessive as it was protective.

"In any case," he said, his voice taking on a teasing tone as his hand rested firmly on your shoulder, the touch deliberate, "You can return the favor next time."

"So that's your excuse to come back to this brothel?" you replied, your tone laced with sarcasm as one eyebrow arched slightly. A sly smile curved your lips as you looked at him. "How predictable, Silco..."

"Oh, I assure you, dove," he murmured, his voice laden with a dangerous softness that made every word sound like a promise. "It's not the only reason I'll return. But, I must admit... it's a rather tempting incentive."

Yet, as he spoke those words, something shifted inside him. A dark and familiar shadow rose, staking its claim on his mind. Suddenly, Silco pulled back. His face, previously brimming with desire and mischief, turned into a mask of indifference.

"I need to go," he said abruptly, the tone of someone ending a conversation with no room for argument. "There's something I need to take care of."

And with that, without another word, he was gone.

Leaving you behind, confused, and his jacket.

[...]

The days following Silco's visit were a series of unsettling events. The changes came slowly, almost imperceptibly at first, but you had a knack for picking up on nuances. You were a survivor, and survival meant knowing when something was wrong before it became a bigger problem.

First, there were the furtive glances. Your colleagues at the brothel seemed to watch you with a mix of curiosity and apprehension. There were hushed whispers and abruptly interrupted conversations whenever you walked by. That wasn't new—gossip was as common as the smell of cheap perfume in that place. But this felt different now. Heavier. As if they knew something you didn't.

Then came the anonymous donation. A substantial amount of money, accompanied by a short and direct note, unsigned. Just three words: "For your comfort."

You found yourself staring at the note longer than you should have, the paper trembling slightly in your hands. The tone of the words seemed polite, even kind, but in context... there was no comfort in them. Only confirmation that someone was meddling in your life.

Finally—and perhaps most disturbingly—was the sudden drop in the number of clients. At first, you thought it was a coincidence, something seasonal. The brothel's clientele had its ups and downs, after all. But as the days went by, the reality became unmistakably clear.

The few men who still requested your company exhibited strange behaviors. Gone were the hungry gazes, the invasive touches. They were stiff, as if walking on eggshells, and most seemed incapable of relaxing in your presence. They didn't want closeness, avoided more intimate advances. Instead, they merely asked for your company, remained in an awkward silence while sitting far from you, and left far more money than necessary.

It was disconcerting. The break from routine, the absence of the predictable... it was almost worse than dealing with the unwanted touches you'd learned to ignore.

And then came the confirmation you didn't want. It arrived through a conversation you weren't invited to but overheard from the other side of a door: the men who had been appearing and specifically requesting you, were none other than subordinates of a certain chemical baron.

Silco. Part 3

[ann7av]

Spoilers for act 2

Isha is Jinx's inner child just as Warrick is Vi's inner monster and their mutual destruction is actually a pivotal event so they can both evolve as individuals, in this essay I will--

*start yapping*

No, I mean it, the hyper fixation kicked in and it kicked me hard. This is just about Vi's perspective in ep.5 btw but in my defense, she looks so tired

In the first arc, Vi starts to separate Powder from Jinx as a way of coping, she feels guilty about the destruction Jix caused and, as we know, Vi would never intentionally hurt her sister so the only way for her to try and stop her is to separate the two.

She can't kill her sister but she can kill Jinx (at least she thinks she can)

In ep.5 we see her spiraling into self-destruction, her entire character thus far has been taking care of others and now she has no one, and as such she doesn't think she has value simply as an individual.

Vi cannot accept change, that's her biggest flaw, she can't accept her sister's change or the change in the underground, and she begs Cait not to change in arc one. She somewhat recreated what her life in prison must've been like (she has a tiny apartment where she keeps herself enclosed, she's fighting on a daily basis, she's angry) so Vi's seeking familiarity in whatever she can find.

Now, she wakes up to Jinx in her little "protected" new reality, and her first instinct is to attack. She chokes Jinx (not her sister) and tells her off when she tells her about Vander, but THEN what happens?

Jinx starts to cry, and for a millisecond the illusion of Powder X Jinx is broken and Vi lets go of her, allowing her to say that "Vander is alive" and that "He needs OUR help".

Just like that, Vi's forced to face the possibility of change, she's not trusting that any of this is actually real and not one of Jix's "delusions" but it doesn't matter, the chance that someone NEEDS her help is enough for her to finally look at her own reflection on the mirror she broke in anger and denial, she has a choice to stay in the illusion or to take a risk.

Now, Vi follows her out and sees the mural. Not only does the mural depict Jinx (the person Vi is convincing herself killed her sister) as a hero but it also has Vander in it.

Jinx became Silco's daughter, the man who killed Vander and tore their family apart but for Zaun, she's also Vander's legacy of revolution. Vi is having to face that both things can be true at the same time.

They walk the tunnels and they start bickering, throwing things at each other's face and it's clear she's trying to avoid thinking too hard about what Jix is telling her.

Vi drops her gauntlets to make a point she doesn't need them, but her gauntlets are a physical symbol of her own emotional barriers, she takes them out when she's comfortable enough to let her guard down.

In this scenario, she's using her anger as a shield against Jinx, and anger is a safe emotion so she assumes there's not much risk, she doesn't expect Jinx to hit her, and when she does she hits back.

The thing is, that fight does not seem serious, they're not actually trying to hurt the other but rather just trying to prove their own points.

Now, Isha is serving as Jinx's inner child here and, as one would expect, she jumps in to help. But Vi's not expecting that and (as she does) she reacts.

She hits Isha (the embodiment of Powder) while fighting Jinx, she didn't mean to hurt the kid just like she never meant to her her sister all those years ago, but by fighting with Jinx (the sister she cannot accept) she does.

That's a visual representation of her inner turmoil, there's Jinx and there's Powder and she cannot see them as one, but she can't fight one without hurting the other, where one goes the other follows, they are one and the same.

Jinx goes to comfort Isha, and THAT'S when she puts her gauntlets back on, that's when she builds her defenses again, she can't allow herself to humanize Jinx or else she'll have to admit she's her sister and that she's changed.

Then we have Singed talking about Warrick (not Vander) something like:

"The beast was once a man victim of a great tragedy, but he had an incredible will to live, tolerance to pain, and was very resilient but it got lost in the bowels of the beast" - Yeah, sounds familiar?

We see in Warrick's pov, and he remembers wiping Powder's tears the same way Vi wiped Caits but Vi is blurred, her memory is still lost to him just like she's lost to herself

They find an office that belonged to Vander and Silco, and Violet takes one of her gauntlets off after she enters but keeps the other, her defenses are faltering but she's not willing to lower them yet.

They find a letter from Vander apologizing for what he did after the riot (the thing that broke them apart and later on separated Vi and Jinx)

Warrick came back to where Vander's apology to Silco was never read, he's roaming a familiar place with no purpose, desperately trying to find something he doesn't even know what means anymore.

And what guides him to the sisters is Isha's blood, the blood that was shed when Vi struck her in her fight with Jinx.

Jinx says everything might have been different if Silco had found the letter, and that same thought could apply to them.

If Marcus hadn't taken Vi away before she could come back to her sister, if Jinx had known what happened, if they had talked sooner after reuniting

Vi's defenses are crumbling here, they're both thinking the same thing and for a moment Jinx and Powder are the same, she almost comforts her with her uncovered hand, Jinx is being vulnerable, but Vi hesitates to trust her, so instead of reaching for her she reaches for the gauntlet again, putting her defenses up.

They leave back to the tunnels when Warrick finally catches on, and Vi sees this "beast" running towards them

It doesn't matter Jinx is telling her it's Vander, because Vi is still not trusting her, all she can see is Warrick and he himself is not stopping either, he can't recognize his daughters.

The only person who trusts the beast is Jinx, but she's not the person who can stop him at this moment, Vi is, and she does. Just like she has always done she gets in the way to protect the people she cares about.

Now, now, something very interesting about how this show deals with details is that Warrick was following the scent of Isha's blood so when he jumps to attack the camera focuses on the two.

As I commented, these two characters are being used to show Jinx and Vi's inner turmoil, and the fact Vi's inner monster (Warrick) is specifically aiming to hurt Jinx's inner child (Isha) is very telling.

But what is even more telling is that Vi is the one to stop him from hurting her, and by extension, she's protecting Jinx.

Just like before we see that Vi cannot attack Jinx without hurting Powder here we see that she can't protect Powder without protecting Jinx as well.

And THAT'S when we have the Jinx X Powder separation cracking

She says he's going to kill YOU, she's not worried about herself here, and the way she tries to protect them is to fight.

Vi always tries to fight her problem away by either violence or avoidance and now is no difference, she tries to fight him but here she's metaphorically fighting her own anger, the same anger that hurt her family and herself

The problem is that you can't fight fire with fire in these situations. Anger will not beat anger, punching will not stop the fight it will only make it worse.

They fight and he throws her against a wall before turning to focus on Isha but Jinx gets in the way and for a moment he recognizes Powder again

Jinx has been trying to protect Isha while making them stop and she tries again, but this time Vi is willing to hear her out,

She doesn't see Vander inside Warrick yet, and as this ginormous thing is barreling towards her she makes a decision, and for the first time, she trusts Jinx again, lowers her gauntlets and stops fighting. Vi's accepting the beast

There's a sequence where the image goes from Vi to Warrick repeatedly and they have similar expressions but then her eyes change and she calls for her father again.

Everything goes dark then, and we see Jinx completely terrified holding a lighter and looking for them. She doesn't know what she's going to find, she doesn't know if she was right in blindly believing Vander was still there.

The lights were bright during the fight but now everything is dark, and the dark is often used as a space of uncertainty and vulnerability Jinx couldn't save her sister from the beast and all she could do was try to guide her into saving herself.

Violet tried everything she knew, she tried fighting Jinx but in the process, she hurt the child, she tried avoiding the connection with her sister and by extension avoiding the family history but Warrick caught up with them again nonetheless, and when he did she tried to fight him off but the beast can't be killed by the same violence that created it.

In the end, it was the act of trusting Jinx that brought Vander back, Vi hugged him with the same gauntlets she used to hurt Warrick, she recognizes Jinx is also his daughter and by doing so she opens a door to seeing her as her sister again, even Isha got pulled into the hug.

Important to add that I do see Vander and Isha as more than just inner versions of Vi and Jinx but this show makes so many connections that everyone is everyone's inner something at one point tbh

Also, wdym both Cait and Jinx go to Stillwater and yet there was not ONE little detail of them thinking about Vi while my girl is literally hallucinating and only thinking about them? ONE MENTION

[strawberrykidneystone]

the blast that changed everything

sevika x female! reader

summary: your wife came home after being gone at work for more than a day with a limb missing and it was definitely an adjustment

a/n: i did do research for this fic about limb loss but if there's anything that i can do to improve this please don't hesitate to let me know!!

tags: loss of limb, angst to fluff, emetophobia tw, domestic moments, weed, making out, reassurance,

ao3 version

thank you for requesting anon!!!

when sevika had first told you that she was switching to work under silco, you were more than confused. but once she explained her reasoning and promised that she would be careful, you slowly got on board with her work. you knew that she wanted action instead of whatever "passive bullshit" that vander was negotiating with piltover, but you knew you couldn't talk her out of it even if you tried.

sevika got so many nasty looks whenever she was out in public for "betraying" vander, but a betrayal is a stab in the back, not the front, which is what sevika did when she left vander.

but working for silco meant going along with his scientist's experiments, which you were less than keen to learn about. sevika didn't tell you much because honestly, mainly because she didn't know much about it herself. she did tell you to never touch the substance, a shimmering purple substance would bring nothing but trouble.

so here you are, waiting on the couch for your wife to come home from work. you glanced up at the ticking clock in the living room, it was well past midnight, where was she? sure, she had late nights before, but she would always send someone to at least tell you that she was going to be late. you tried not to worry, but you felt a pit in your stomach that something just wasn't right.

your suspicions were confirmed when you heard a frantic knock on the door. bolting up and throwing the door open, you're met with a panting ran who takes a deep breath and rambles out something slightly incoherent, but you pick up the words "sevika" and "hurt". quickly throwing on a jacket and slipping on the nearest shoes you urge ran to bring you to her, the two of you tearing down the street until you go down a huge spiral staircase into a lab that had an open window view of the ocean.

frantically looking around, you raced to sevika's side as you saw her passed out on a crude surgical table and cupped her hand in yours, reassuring her that you were here even if she couldn't hear you.

then you saw her other arm.

it was charred as it she had stuck it directly into a fire, but it was glowing... blue? she had a scar running up from her shoulder to her cheek with blue cracks as if her skin were a glass that shattered. you had never seen an injury like this before. singed was working on her shoulder with a bone blade and you covered your mouth with your hand, there was no way that this arm was salvageable. you squeezed your eyes shut as you heard the crunching of her bone, she was losing her dominant hand and you had no idea how she would adjust to losing her primary arm. you felt nauseous and dizzy, quickly kneeling down by the nearest trash can and barfing your brains out. you wiped your mouth with the back of your hand and took a shaky breath. you had to be strong for her, especially after she woke up. eventually, you fell asleep at her side and didn't wake until you felt movement near your head the next morning.

you quickly perked up and almost started crying when shew finally showed signs of life. sevika groggily looked around, clearly very disoriented until her eyes locked in on you. "baby? what happened?" she asked raspily, trying to shake the brain fog out of her head.

you gulped and took a deep breath, clutching her hand in yours, "after you pushed silco out of the way, the blast had some sort of blue technology in it, it wasn't a regular explosion. singed tried everything he could, but he had to amputate your arm up to you shoulder and there is some blue scarring going up your face that he couldn't explain to me how they got there." it was better to just rip the bandaid off rather than wait to tell her.

sevika slowly nodded along and looked to her side at the stump that was now her arm. she seemed oddly calm, but sevika was never really one to let her emotions overtake her. plus, she was probably still high as a kite from the pain killers. by this point, you had tears streaming down your face and profusely apologizing as if you had been the one to set off the blast. she shook her head and placed her hand on your cheek, rubbing her thumb against your cheekbone, "baby it's okay, i'm okay. it's just an arm, silco's probably commissioning a new one for me as we speak. it's gonna be alright."

you sniffed and covered her hand with yours, leaning into her palm, "i'm supposed to be the one comforting you dummy, you're the one who got hurt."

she snorted and shook her head, "as long as i have you, i know everything's going to be alright."

you wiped your tears away and kissed the inside of her hand, "okay okay you sap, I'll stop worrying. but you're not going back to work until you feel ready, capeesh?"

"caposh, now get up here and kiss me," she said with a grin. you basically lunged up to her and pressed a hard kiss to her lips, throwing your arms around her neck as you smothered her in entire face in kisses. sevika was a little thrown off when she went to wrap her arms around you, but only one actually showed up.

this was definitely going to be an adjustment.

over the next few weeks, you had taken sevika to a decent physical therapist that you had found in zaun and worked with her to improve the handwriting in her right arm. her center of gravity was entirely off and she was unconsciously leaning to the right side when she walked, which she also had to work on in physical therapy as well as outside of it. she opens up to you after a while about how she swears that she can feel every finger in her left hand still, sometimes still reaching for things with a limb that is no longer there and mourning what she lost. she also asked you to cut off the left sleeve of her shirt to make it easier to dress herself, which you happily obliged as you had an excuse to practice your sewing.

when she started getting phantom limb pain, you started massaging the area and sitting down with her with a stand-up mirror so her mind gets tricked into thinking it still has all of the pathways in her body.

and smoking weed.

she joked that the doctor had basically given her a prescription to smoke weed, but that is kind of what happened. you would smoke with her and she loves it when you shotgun into her mouth, her brain releasing tension with the pain in her missing limb soon forgotten. it became a nightly ritual for the two of you to sit out on your bedroom balcony and smoke a shared blunt that usually ended up with you perched on her lap in a sloppy make-out session. life was slowly starting to feel normal again with her adjusted lifestyle. it took her a while to ask for help when she needed it, even from you, her close loved one. sevika was nothing if not resilient, but her patience usually wore thin when tasks started taking her twice the time it did before the accident. you were always there to lend a hand and reassure her that asking for help was nothing shameful, that you wanted to help her. it took her a while to accept, but when she did, her life drastically improved for the better.

during all of this, you were hounding silco's ass about her new prosthetic arm that he calmly said was still getting worked on. he would never admit it aloud, but he was a little scared of you.

when she came home one day with a new prosthetic arm attached to her shoulder, you looked at her in awe as your wife had the cheesiest grin on her face. she immediately wrapped you up in her arms and chuckled as she felt you shiver with her cold metal arm against your slightly exposed back. even though she had the new arm, she didn’t like wearing it around you since it was technically a weapon.

being able to write with her left hand again was. a huge relief for her, sure she made do with writing with her non-dominant hand, but this was different, it was almost like having her own arm back again.

plus, now she could write with both hands.

you were less than thrilled when she added a shimmer component to her arm, lecturing her on how it was hypocritical of her after she was so adamant about not using it when singed was first experimenting with it. however, silco kept sending her on harder missions and shimmer helped her do her best work, so you slowly came around, especially after seeing how feral the substance made her (especially in bed, shimmer strap who?)

eventually, things settled down and she was back at work with new additions to her arm every so often that she loved to show off to you. you admired them and asked about the new features, simply happy that she had new tools to keep her safe while she was out doing silco's dirty work.

it was all worth it for zaun to slowly take steps forward to becoming independent and governing themselves instead of the ever looming presence of piltover stopping them.

a/n: silco having workers comp??? maybe he's not so bad /j

taglist: @maneskinwh0re @archangeldyke-all @fandoms-will-be-the-death-of-me @sevikasfan @lez-zuha @comfortripley @sunflowerwinds

[rcntlydcccased]

RIP Silco you would’ve loved The Downward Spiral

[kikiiswashere]

Four to Tango

As promised, part two of Waltzing for Three!!!

Thank you for helping me reach 200 followers for this little ol' blog of mine 🥰 And welcome to all the newcomers!

The idea for this ficlet was born of watching my bestie @sand-sea-and-fable help out a pregnant friend by lifting her belly off her hips, and it just sort of spiraled from there.

It's also worth noting that I myself am not a mother, nor have I given birth, nor do I wish to be a mom (husband got the ol' snip-snip). So why this fic? Good question 😅

That being said, I did my best to write about the labor process relatively accurately without getting into the super nitty-gritty of it 😂 So, please enjoy this weird little fever-dream of a fic, and please comment and reblog 💗

Tags for the interested parties: @luhmoon, @legendaryflowercheesecake, @thebeserkvernid, @miffysoo

Pairing: Established Silco x AFAB!Reader

Rating: Teen/Mature (brief reference to oral sex)

CW: Non-graphic descriptions of pregnancy and labor

Insistent cramping had woken you up in the wee-hours one morning, swelling and ebbing in a slow rhythm that sent your heart tapping, a loop of nerves coiling around your gut – little room that there was for it.

Silco had been a terribly light sleeper ever since Vander’s betrayal, ever since those early years on an under-tested Shimmer variant that left his brain unable to fully settle. So, the moment you shifted into a sitting position, he shot up as well.

“What’s wrong?”

Words got gummed up on fear and excitement in your mouth. There was a slight tremor in your fingers as they grazed over your belly. You had noticed it sitting even lower on your hips these past several days. While you were very done with being pregnant, you were still nervous and surprised to say –

“I think it’s time.”

With comical amounts of speed, but awe-inspiring grace, Silco flung himself from the bed, divesting himself of his eyepatch and pajamas. After changing into a simple set of trousers and an old button-up shirt, he fetched the stopwatch Jinx had invented to easily time your contractions, and wrote a tube prompting your midwife that she was needed. It had been decided early on that the babe’s delivery – barring any complications – would happen at The Last Drop. You, nor Silco, were willing to venture outside to a clinic when your family would be at its most vulnerable.

Too nervous to lay down, much less fall back asleep, you began pacing the large bedroom in your large sleep shirt. Every time a contraction locked up and spasmed through your lower belly and back, your fingers pressed the stopwatch’s clicker. And you breathed as the midwife had instructed. Silco kept you company, walking with you up and down the length of the bedroom, holding your hand and becoming an anchor to squeeze when contractions rolled through. Together, you both noted and kept track of their intervals. Their spacing  and length suggested that the little one’s arrival was not imminent, but the consistency indicated that this was indeed labor.

The midwife arrived, ushered in by a half-asleep Sevika. You’d bribed her with an absurd bonus and several pre-paid sessions at Babette’s for her to crash in one of the Drop’s private guest rooms during these last days of your pregnancy. She was needed for security, and to stand-in for Silco when his attention and priorities would be elsewhere.

“Good luck,” she’d grumbled, barely glancing at you before shutting the bedroom door, and trudging back down the hall.

The midwife was a petite, wizened Vastaya who’d been selected for her services not only because of her field prowess, but because she was staunch loyalist to you and Silco. Shimmer had helped save more than one of her clients when the birthing process had begun to go sideways, and that was enough for her to hitch her wagon to your agenda.

She was also direct to the point of rudeness – a personality trait that was wholly welcome given the slippery, hidden, self-serving rhetoric you were used to having to deal with.

“Time?” she asked, setting her medical bag down on your dresser with a heavy thunk.

“Forty-five seconds to a minute, about every seven minutes,” you answered. Then gasped and doubled over as another contraction bent you.

The midwife hummed. “How long?”

“About an hour,” Silco said. He squeezed back at your hand as you rode out the current wave rolling through.

Clucking her tongue, the midwife shook her head, long ears slapping lightly against her horns.

“Early.”

Silco frowned. “You are being more than thoroughly compensated to show up whenever we ask.”

“Indeed. To the bed, miss. Let’s have a look.”

Once your legs were freed from the lock of the contraction, you shuffled to the bed. Silco helped you into position, and the midwife closed in. Her fingers were warm, but the tools were cold. The combination, along with your nerves, caused your lungs to shudder.

“Five,” she declared, drawing her head from between your thighs.

“That’s halfway,” you chuckled weakly. Silco brushed his thumb over your knuckles

The midwife hummed in agreement. “True. But as discussed, this process is not linear. And being your first delivery, it is very likely this will take a while. How is the pain?”

“Fine. Manageable.” It came out as a grit, but she didn’t seem to doubt you.

“You should eat and drink while you can. Is there anything else you want or need right now?”

Together, you and Silco walked to the small kitchen in your private quarters. You rested your forearms on the counter as the length of your spine hammocked behind you, hips gently swishing side-to-side. Silco kept the breakfast blissfully simple: toast with a light slather of butter, and a mug of warmed water with lemon.

Eating was slow going. Between the jitters and contractions, your appetite was seriously curbed. When you finally made it to the second piece of toast, Jinx shuffled into the kitchen, bleary-eyed and bed-headed. Her bedraggled demeanor did not last long though, as her whip-quick senses tuned into the energy of the space. Big, blue eyes tracked between Silco – unusually underdressed – and your strange posture. One could nearly hear the cogs in her head clicking and whirring.

“Is it time?!”

In a flash, she clambered onto the stool next to you, bright and tittering. Her exuberance washed over you in a relieving breeze. Reaching over, you ran a hand through her unkempt hair.

“Sure is, kiddo.”

“When will he be here?”

“Could be a while yet, Jinx,” Silco answered. He set a glass of juice in front of her. “What would you like? Toad-in-the-hole? Porridge? Pancakes?”

“Make ‘em have a face!” she crowed.

A hook of a smile pulled at Silco’s mouth as he turned back toward the stove.

Jinx settled onto the stool; legs kicking merrily beneath her as she sipped her juice.

“What does it feel like?”

“Like intense menstrual cramps.”

Her small face squished in a ponder. While you had had that conversation with her, Jinx had yet to broach into that aspect of puberty. Thus, she had no point of reference.

“Kinda like when you roof-run after eating, and your abs cramp up,” you offered. “Kind of.”

A contraction swelled upon you, and you grit your teeth, face pinching, head dropping. Silco stepped away from the stovetop, and placed a grounding hand between your shoulder blades. Jinx watched, eyes wide and worried. Timidly, she shifted toward you, pressing her forehead to your shoulder.

The pain continued, but was temporarily numbed by the overwhelming love and gratitude for the two people on either side of you.

Your family.

It was never part of the plan when it came to your Silco’s ideas to lift Zaun up, but you wouldn’t have it any other way. And in a few hours, three would be four. Your heart beat big, tapping against your throat as the contraction passed. You clicked the stopwatch.

“That seems worse than roof-run cramps,” Jinx said suspiciously.

You chuffed. “Like I said: Kind of.”

Silco rubbed his hand up and down your spine a few times, before kissing your temple and returning to the stove.

“You remember what we talked about?” you asked Jinx.

She fiddled with her hair, nodding. “I can come and go as I please.”

“Right. If you want to be with us, I want you to be there. If you don’t, that’s fine, too. You get to decide, and it doesn’t have to be right now.”

Jinx nodded again, eyes staring into the middle-distance. Reaching over, you brushed your fingers through her hair again. Her eyes snapped back to yours.

“Are you scared?”

You gave her a reassuring smile.

“No. I’m happy.”

It wasn’t a lie. But a few hours later, your happiness was thoroughly overshadowed by the pain of labor. It was staggering how it had intensified. How it was becoming near non-stop as the space between contractions shortened and shortened. Gravity felt impossible to contend with on top of everything else, so you sank onto your bedroom floor with a low, guttural growl.

Silco had been attentive throughout, anticipating your needs before you even voiced them. Ever your anchor, your source for steadiness. Even now, on your hands and knees, his own wide palms settled onto your hips and pressed in. It pulled an appreciative groan from your throat.

“You’re doing so well, my love.”

“It doesn’t feel like it.”

Your eyes flicked to the bathroom door where Jinx was helping the midwife prepare a warm bath. You were proud of your girl. Admittedly, part of you doubted she would choose to stick around once labor became loud and more intense. When you could no longer keep yourself from crying out, hesitancy had flickered in her eyes, and her brows pitched in concern. But instead of dashing away, she’d reached for your hand and held tight.

“Is there anything you can give her?” she’d asked the midwife incredulously.

The female had smirked, impressed and moved by the girl’s protectiveness of you.

“I have mild pain relievers, but nothing that will fully numb – “

“Shimmer?”

The midwife’s black lips thinned. “That is only to be used in emergencies,” she explained. “It is too potent and powerful to be used for anything other than the most extreme circumstances. Which – “her eyes looked up at your haggard form on the bed – “does not seem probable. Her labor is progressing as it should. There is nothing to worry about.”

Jinx frowned, doubtful, and hunkered closer to your side.

“Seems like a dumb design that it hurts so much.”

“Agreed,” you wheezed.

“Come,” the midwife said, “let’s check you.”

She declared you’d progressed to eight centimeters. That had been three hours ago. And the pain just continued to climb and build.

A small sob burst through your teeth. Silco knelt at your side, quietly saying your name.

“I’m scared, Sil,” you admitted in a whisper. You were thankful Jinx wasn’t near to hear you back-pedal. Your breath hitched and words tumbled out: “I don’t know if I can do this.”

He took your warm and tear-streaked face between his hands, and repeated your name.

“Look at me.”

Reluctantly, your tired and wet eyes focused on his face. He looked at you with fierce earnestness, thumbs sweeping across the apples of your flushed cheeks. Suddenly, part of you grieved that the baby would never know Silco without his scars. Or yours. Outside and in.

Silco called your name again.

“Look at me,” he repeated. Your eyes slid back to his. Blue and red pinned you in place. “You can do this. I’ve not met anyone more tenacious, nor strong, nor as spirited as you. Those are but a few of the reasons I fell in love with you so long ago.” His eyes softened now; his adoration made plain. “You’ve absolutely no reason to doubt yourself.”

A small hiccup bubbled from your mouth, and you pressed your face into the warmth of his palm, breathing him in deeply. Not having properly dressed for the day, he hadn’t put any cologne on. The natural terra-sweet scent of his skin filled your nose. You were grateful for his support, respect, and belief in your abilities. A sudden, silly thought flitted across your mind.

“Not my dance moves?”

A single amused breath huffed from his throat. That infinitesimal smirk – one of the reasons you’d fallen in love with him – appeared on his lips. His blue eye flashed; as it often did when an idea struck him. Silco lifted to his feet, and used a strong grip to pull you to yours. He guided your arms to loop around his shoulders and neck, while his went to your low back. A weary chuckle left you as you understood. Your cheek was a relieved, heavy weight against his shoulder. It had to be a strange sight, this dance configuration: with your body slouched against his, massive belly hanging between you two. Slowly, your feet began gently shifting side-to-side.

“Admittedly,” he murmured against your crown, “your dance moves leave something to be desired right now.”

You laughed, even as another contraction swelled within you. Silco’s hands firmed up on your body, holding you upright as it moved through your body.

“I’ll make it up to you,” you hissed as most of the pain subsided. It was such now that there was no longer any real relief.

“A dance and a suck job? Lucky me.”

Your fingers pinched Silco’s upper back, and you felt the tremor of silent laughter in his shoulders.

“Tub’s ready!” Jinx sang as she flounced out of the bathroom.

Managing to smile at her, despite another great, contracting swell that threatened to bring you to your knees, you took her hand. Silco kept a strong arm wrapped around your middle, and you followed Jinx into the humid warmth of the bathroom.

The water helped. Its heat soothed your pained muscles and aching bones. The irony was not lost on you that you found peace in it. After a few minutes of settling into the tub, you gave Silco a look that to anyone else may have seemed like nothing. But he caught the message in your eyes, and tucked himself close to the tub’s edge, taking your hand. Jinx huddled herself into his lap, nervously fingering the buttons on his shirt.

About an hour later, the midwife’s large ears flicked in your direction as the quality of your breath shifted, as the sounds leaving you turned deeper and more animal. Her deft hands slipped into the water and between your legs.

“Something changed,” you gasped, hunching slightly. “It feels like – “

“It’s time,” she said, pulling her hands from the water. Somehow, she’d also stripped your underwear off in the same movement without you noticing. “It’s time to push.”

Push. The word settled into your body with a deep, innate knowing.

Yes. That’s what you were feeling. The near uncontrollable need to bare down. An old, predetermined instinct washed over you. You could do this.

But you did not want to do it alone.

“Sil.”

The grit of his name and the way you shifted yourself forward spurred your partner into understanding. Swiftly, he stood, deposited Jinx onto the stool he’d vacated, and then stepped into the tub, sliding in behind you. Settling against his chest, your hand ferociously intertwined with his. His heart beat firmly against your back.

“You can do this,” he whispered into your ear.

“Give me your other hand, dear,” the midwife said. You did so and she guided it under the water, preparing you to feel and catch. “Push.”

“Push! Push!” Jinx cried, her little fists pumping and bopping in the air madly.

Gritting your teeth, you did just that. A sound you didn’t know you were capable of making burst from your lungs. When the air ran out, you slumped against Silco’s chest.

“Breath in,” the midwife demanded. You did so. “Push!”

You did again, a roar ripping from your chest. A roar that ended in a surprised yip as something into your hand.

“Again,” the midwife demanded.

And you complied, baring down with everything you had. With all the might and tenacity and power your body could exert. Another battle cry echoed off the bathroom tiles, and a solid weight slid into your hand. You ripped your other hand from Silco’s grip, and pulled a wriggling newborn from the water.

“It’s a boy!” Jinx yelled, bouncing up and down in her seat.

Her brother’s face squidged, and his pink mouth opened in an announcing wail. You joined in and pulled the babe to your chest. Silco went very still behind you, scarcely breathing. Then his hands appeared over yours, cradling the baby at your chest. Like on the night you’d taken in Jinx, he pulled his legs up around you both and held tight.

Later, once the placenta had passed (something Jinx was equally horrified and enthralled by) you were helped out of the tub, and cleaned. The midwife tied off the babe’s umbilical cord, and once some time passed, you watched with an incredibly full heart as Silco severed it.

You weren’t sure if you’d ever seen the expression on your partner’s face. A soft, careful, wonderous thing. Then it hit you all at once. You were watching Silco fall in love. The notion took your breath away and fresh tears welled in your eyes. Jinx clung to you, and you to her.

“Thank you for being with me, Jinx. It helped.”

The girl beamed up at you, holding on tighter.

“I think it is your turn for a shower, sir,” the midwife said, twisting off the umbilical nub.

Silco watched her hands like a hawk as she did. He slid in once she finished, and wrapped him in a blanket Jinx had decorated. It was a small thing, but you caught the tremor in his hands. Keeping Jinx tucked against your side, you came to stand next to him.

“He’ll be here when you get out of the shower,” you whispered, voice hoarse.

“Yeah! Go get the baby juice off you!” Jinx ordered.

Silco’s expression of awe turned to one of bemusement as he glanced at your daughter.

“Yes. I suppose I should.”

Your own hands shook a bit as you gathered your son – your son! You wondered if the shock would wear off – and ushered Jinx to follow the midwife out of the bathroom.

With no small amount of effort, your body, beyond sore and exhausted, climbed into bed. The baby cooed and nuzzled and fussed against your chest as you settled into the pillows and duvet. Jinx climbed in on the opposite side, and snuggled close.

“He’s already sleeping!”

“It’s hard work being born. Don’t you remember?” you chuckled.

Jinx laughed, “No!”

A small smile curled the midwife’s mouth as she snapped her bag shut. She turned to you and bowed her head.

“Congratulations.”

“Thank you,” you said, eyes on your boy. Then you lifted them to hers, and said again, “And thank you.”

She nodded again, horns catching the light in the room.

“It was my honor.”

She gave you and the baby one last cursory check over, and took her leave.

A few moments after she left, there was a knock on the door, and Sevika stuck her head in.

“Ogre!” Jinx cried. “I gotta brother!”

Even Sevika’s presence couldn’t dampen Jinx’s mood.

Silco’s lieutenant grunted, and stepped over to the bed. She stayed at a distance though, craning her neck to peer down at you and the baby.

“Yep. That’s a baby. Congrats.”

“Thank you, Sevika.”

Behind her, Silco emerged from the foggy bathroom in a fresh pair of slacks and an unbuttoned shirt. Sevika tilted her strong chin in his direction and he nodded back.

“I’ll leave you all to it then,” she said.

Her poncho twirled as she spun back to leave. As she and Silco crossed paths, a metal finger tip whipped out from beneath the red fabric, and poked his bare belly. He jolted and shuddered. He sneered at her, but she just snickered and slipped out of the room.

Silco shook his head, damp hair beginning to curl at the ends. He rounded the bed, and climbed in, sandwiching Jinx between your bodies. He leaned over the girl’s head and kissed you.

“What’re we gonna name him?” Jinx pipped.

You and Silco exchanged a look.

“I’m not sure,” you admitted.

“I’m sure we’ll come up with something.” he added.

Immediately, Jinx began rattling off all her suggestions.

Before a name could be decided, you fell asleep. Jinx followed shortly after; her plump cheek pressed against your shoulder. Gingerly, Silco lifted the baby from your arms, and brought him to his bare chest. The boy tensed, and then melted, a small wispy sigh leaving him.

Silco melted, too; a foreign, near indescribable softness filling him up. He brought his hand to the boy’s back, its length and width nearly covering all of him. His son was so small.

His son. His son.

Emotions gripped him so intensely he nearly choked.

Elation, love, fear.

Grief.

There was grief that his child was born technically as a citizen of Piltover. But that anguish was small compared to the other one that had been tucked away in the scar tissue of Silco’s heart ever since you had told him of the pregnancy. A pain that he hated he harbored.

The secret grief was that Vander wasn’t here to see this. The grief that his Brother had ruined any chance of participating in this milestone. The grief of Vander’s death (justified though it was) was scratched open as Silco’s son lay on his heart. The grief that, had things gone differently, Silco would’ve named the boy after his Brother.

“Sil.”

Silco’s head whipped around at the sound of your voice. Your beautiful, exhausted, beautiful face shone up at him. There was a smile on your lips that he wished to taste, so he leaned over Jinx’s head again and pressed his mouth to yours. 

“I told you you could do it,” he whispered leaning back. You smiled and nodded wearily.

The baby grunted and shifted against Silco’s chest, and he pet the back of his head so, so softly. It broke your heart into a million pieces, and then they jumped right back together. Your eyes slid back up to your partner’s profile.

You felt his grief, because it was yours, too.

“I know, Silco,” you whispered. He looked over to you. Jinx snored softly between. “I wish it had been different, too.”

Silco’s eyebrow dropped, and his lips softened. He glanced down at the baby on his chest, and chuckled ruefully.

“I truly don’t know what to name him.”

You shrugged. “We’ll figure it out.”

He nodded. You sat in silence for a while, listening to your children breath. Jinx’s raspy breaths and the baby’s snuffling. It was music to your ears. You would never tire of hearing it.

Just as you were about to doze again, you felt Silco’s energy shift. Eyes sharpening onto him, you watched as he first gently ran his fingers over Jinx’s freckled cheek. Then, so carefully, he lifted the baby from his chest so he could look at his small face.

“You and your sister will have better than we did,” he promised. “Me and your mother will give you a nation.”

Your son’s eyes fluttered open and closed, the bud of his mouth stretching into what looked like a small smile. Your throat tightened horribly, and you tucked your nose into Jinx’s crown.

When you were sure you could speak without choking, you lifted your head and said, “We promise.”

I hope part two scratched the itch <3 If you enjoy my work and would like to support me (firstly, THANK YOU!) check out my Ko-Fi page!

ko-fi.com/kiki13

[mofongomuncher]

𝘼𝙣𝙨𝙬𝙚𝙧𝙨 [!𝙎𝙈𝙐𝙏¡]

(Ekko X Reader)

❥ cast : ! Ekko and Reader ¡

The brothel was dimly lit today, the pungent scent of incense and lust hung heavily in the air. The soft whispers of conversations and secrets echoed through the corridors.

As a dancer known for your attraction and intentions, you've seen your share of shady characters seeking refuge from the harsh realities.

Tonight however, was so much more different.

Ekko.

The leader of the firelights, decided to stroll into the brothel with his dark green jacket—its distinct graffits swayed with each step, and his owl like mask made him stick out against the rest of the people around the building.

He was here looking for answers about Silco's people, specifically a woman who once worked here. The only person that actually knew who this woman was, is you.

As he approaches, you feel the heat of his gaze and the weight of his reputation. His sharp, owl-like eyes lock onto yours with unsettling intensity.

You knew he was the type to take what he wanted without hesitation. Babette had warned you about him and the Firelights not long ago.

But tonight... tonight, things would be different.

With a gesture, you lead him to a private room.

"Tell me about her..." Ekko says, his voice rough as he carefully removed his mask, and sat down in front of you. His white locs and hourglass face paint were now visible. The flickering candlelights casted his features, making the intensity of his gaze almost tangible.

You, in your revealing lingerie, feel a thrill of excitement as you danced slowly in front of him. Your movements are fluid, your hips swaying to an unheard melody as you speak, your eyes never leaving his.

You dance closer to him, your fingertips tracing the line of your collarbone as you speak of her, your voice dropping to a whisper. "Her name was Lila....Silco took her in, trained her, used her for his... needs." Your eyes flicker to the side, a hint of sadness in them."she was so clever, always looking answers." Ekko's eyes narrow, his interest piqued. He leans forward slightly.

"What makes you think she'd be of any use to me?" he asks, his voice sharper then ever.  You dip down, your chest brushing against his knee, making him suck in a sharp breath. "Because she knew his secrets..." you murmur, your breath warm against his skin. "And she knew when to keep them...and when to share them." Your hand slides up his thigh. "Anddd...you asked me about her, she must be some good use, hm?" You teased him.

You can feel the tension spiraling within him.

He's a man of the streets, he was used to the cut and thrust of battles, but this... this is different.

Way different...

You move to straddle his lap. He looks up at you, his big hazelnut brown eyes searching yours for a moment as if trying to determine if this is just a trick.

You grab his gloved hands and place them on your hips—forcing him to pull you closer to him.

You lean down, your lips brushing against his ear. "Tell me what you want Ekko.." you whisper, your voice seductive and demanding.

"I want... I need to know." he gasps. "What did she tell you?" His desperation is tangible, his eyes never leaving yours as he speaks. You lean back, a knowing smile playing on your lips. "Everything..." you promise, your voice sweet like honey. "But firsttt, let's make a deal...just you and me." You trace a finger along the line of his sharp jaw, watching as he nods nervously, his breath coming in ragged bursts. He knew exactly what kind of deal you were trying to offer him.

Ekko had never been in a situation like this before. He'd always been too focused on the Firelights, on the constant grind of surviving in Zaun, on fixing what was broken around him. Intimacy had never been something he made time for. His life was chaos.

Now, here he was, sitting at the brothel, with you on his lap, your body close to his in a way that made his heart race. The soft material of your lingerie pressed against him, and he could feel every inch of you. It was all too much, too fast, and yet, it was impossible to ignore the heat flooding his chest.

He hadn't asked for this, hadn't come here for this kind of attention, but now that it was happening, he was finding it hard to pull away. His hands rested lightly on your hips, the pressure of his touch not quite sure of itself, but needing to stay there all the same. His mind was a jumble of thoughts, conflicting desires and responsibilities, but his body was reacting against all of it.

This wasn't a relationship. It wasn't anything deep, he knew that. Yet, there was something in the way your body pressed against his, something in the way the heat built between you, that made him feel a way he couldn't describe. A part of him felt like he shouldn't be here, that he should be focused on something else, find answers elsewhere—but another part of him just... didn't want to stop.

It was messy, it was chaotic, and it wasn't lovely but it was real.

The air in the room seems to thicken as you get off his lap—moving in front of him. Carefully you remove his overalls down to his boots, before dropping to your knees.

As you free his cock from his boxers, you can't help but admire it—thick and long, slightly pulsating, it was like a testament to his masculinity.

Looking up at him through your hooded eyes, you lean in and take him into your mouth, your tongue swirling around the tip before you take him deeper. Ekko's eyes widen in surprise, he throws his head back, his hand reaching for his mouth to cover his groans.

"H-Holy—Fuck" he hisses.

You couldn't help but feel a swell of pride at his reaction.

You suck harder, feeling him pulse against your tongue, his thighs tense beneath your palms. He tastes so sweet and a tad bit bitter, a mix that only fuels your own desire.

Ekko's eyes are squeezed shut now, his teeth gritted as he fights to keep his composure. But you can feel the storm building within him, the tension in his body coiling tighter with each passing moment. His breaths become more erratic, and his hips start to buck. You moan around his length, the vibration sending a shiver down his spine. His hand reaches for the armrest of the chair to steady himself.

"Tell—tell me" he grunts, his voice now strained. "What...What did Lila tell you?"

You pull back, your lips shiny with his precum, and give him a soft smile. "well....only that she had something valuable." you say, your voice a breathy purr. "Information that could help bring him down." Ekko's eyes flash with determination, and he nods, urging you to continue.

"But she didn't tell me what it was." you add, tracing your fingers along his thigh. "Not until I made her feel good..." You stand up, your legs shaky from the excitement.

"And—And did you?" he asks, his voice quivering. "Make...her feel good?" You nod, your chest heaving with anticipation. "Of course I did," you reply, reaching back to untie your lingerie, letting it fall to the floor. Your bare skin glows in the candlelight. "And now.." you say, turning to face him, "it's your turn. Hm?"

Ekko's eyes froze to you, observing your naked body, lingering on the wetness between your thighs. You make his way to him, removing the rest of his clothing, revealing his muscular form. You couldn't help but caresses his beautifully toned chest.

"Tell me..." he says, his voice low and slightly nervous, "everything she said."

You bite your bottom lip, feeling a thrill of power as you hold the key to Ekko's quest. "She spoke of a hidden book..." you murmur, stepping even closer to him, your breasts now brushing his chest. "A list of names, areas...transactions with some of the pilties..." Ekko's eyes widen at the implication, and you can feel his cock twitch against your stomach. "But she never told me where it was.." you add, running your fingertips down his abs, tracing the lines of them.

"Only that it would bring him to his knees."

He sighed in frustration, but the desire in his eyes hadn't weakened. "Then what good are you to me?" he demands, but there's a hint of desperation in his voice.

You lean in, your breath hot against his ear. "Perhaps I can reveal more.." you offer, your hands still tracing his abs.

"If you're willing to make another deal."

Ekko's hand snaps up, gripping your wrist. "You drive a hard bargain, hm?" he says, releasing your wrist away from him. "What do you want?"

You look up at him "Protection..." you whisper. "For her and for me. We're both basically targets if he finds I told you..." Ekko's gaze softens slightly as he nods. "If I find it, you'll have the deal" he promises.

"Really?" You look up at him surprised. He nodded as hand drops to your small back.

For a second you both stared at eachother, that was until the space between you evaporated as you crush your mouth into his, your tongue delving deep into his mouth, You moan into the kiss, enjoying every second. His hands roam your body, exploring every curve, leaving a trail of fire. He lifts you up, your legs wrapping around his waist as he carries you to the nearby bed.

Ekko lowers you onto the velvet sheets, his eyes never leaving yours as he positions himself between your thighs. He kisses down your neck, his teeth grazing your skin, making you gasp.

"Tell me how she felt when she talked about this book." he murmurs softly, his breath hot against your ear. You bite your lip, remembering the desperation in Lila's eyes. "Scared..." you admit.

He nods, understanding flickering in his gaze.  your hand slid down to grip his cock, guiding it to your entrance. His expression tightens, a mix of lust and fear. You position the head of his cock at your opening.

Ekko couldn't help himself anymore, He tried so hard to keep calm, telling himself that he shouldn't do this, he shouldn't feel so aroused by you—that it wasn't right.

But he couldn't, he couldn't control his lust for you.

With one powerful thrust, he enters you. Your back arching off the bed as he fills you completely. His grip on your hips is firm, his movements deep and rhythmic. Each stroke sends waves of pleasure crashing through you, making it hard to focus on anything but the feeling of him inside you.

"Oh F-Fuck." you breathe, your nails digging into his back as he thrusts into you. "Lila... she—she was terrified, but she had this... this fire in her eyes when she talked about the book. She knew all of his secrets.." Ekko's eyes darken, his strokes becoming more urgent as he hears the desperation in your voice. He leans down, capturing your mouth in a kiss.

You break the kiss, panting heavily. "She never told me where it was hidden. Only that it was somewhere in his office." Ekko's grip on your hips tightens, his thrusts becoming more deliberate, as if he's trying to claim his victory over Silco through your body.

"I—I need to know more Y/N." he grunts, his eyes burning into yours.

"All I know is that—that it's well-guarded" you murmur, your voice a soft whine of pleasure as he hits just the right spot. "But she said there's a time when he's...distracted."

Ekko's strokes slow, his eyes narrowing. "Distracted?" he repeats, his voice a low growl. You nod, your body trembling beneath his. "Whe-When ever the Last Drop has those party nights.... His guards are always...shimmered up and distracted." You can feel his cock pulse within you at the mention of the last drop, a place he knew too good and well. "That's when we can get it.." he says, his voice filled with the promise of victory.

He leans back, the sound of skin slapping against skin was starting to turn him on. You wrap your legs around his waist, urging him deeper.

"The Last Drop.." Ekko repeats, his eyes gleaming with excitement. "We'll get that book and bring him down." He leans down to look at me. You gasp, your body tightening around him, your walls pulsing. "Then.." he murmurs.

"we'll see about that deal."

You tighten your legs around him, urging him closer, the pressure building within you. "Pleasee..." you whisper, your voice thick with desire. "I'm gonna—" Ekko grins, understanding exactly what you meant. He doubles his efforts, hitting that perfect spot with each stroke.

Your breaths come in short pants, your eyes squeezed shut as you feel yourself teetering on the edge. You could feel the room spinning, the candlelights playing tricks on the walls as you feel yourself climbing higher and higher. "F-Fuck Ekko!" you cry out, your body arching as the orgasm hits, wave after wave of ecstasy rolling through you.

With a roar, he releases his own climax, filling you completely as your bodies spasm together in a symphony of pleasure.

For a moment, you lay there, panting, your heart racing as you come down from the high. Ekko's head is buried in the crook of your neck, his breaths hot and erratic against your skin. You run your fingers through his slightly dampened undercut.

"Thank you..." he murmurs, his voice rough with satisfaction. "For what?" you ask, your own voice a little shaky.

He lifts his head to look at you, his brown eyes filled with something that looks suspiciously like affection. "For your help..." he says, his thumb stroking your cheek. "And for... that." You can't help but blush, the heat of his gaze making you feel vulnerable. "It was nothing..." you murmur, trying to play it cool. But the way his eyes travel down your body, lingering on your heaving chest, tells you that he doesn't believe you.

Ekko rolls off you, leaving you to lay there, feeling empty and a little lost. You watch as he stands up and starts to gather his clothes. He pulls his clothes and jacket on, the graffiti on the hem fluttering as he moves. You sit up and watch him, pulling the sheets around your naked body.

Ekko's gaze turns to you—his eyes softens for a moment. He made his way to your sad little figure lying on the bed—his hand reaching out to cup your cheek. "when I get this book, we can talk about that freedom you're after." His thumb traces your bottom lip, and you bite back a whimper.

He pressed his lips against yours before making his way out, leaving you behind,your heart fluttering for the very first time as you hear his footsteps faint away.

Check out my Ekko one shots on Wattpad for more stories!! :3

[wishingonjellyfish]

One More Night

Synopsis: Sevika doesn’t cry in front of anyone—not ever. But when you sit her down on your bed after overhearing a conversation between her and Silco after a meeting, she breaks.

Tags/warning: smut and angst

A/N: click here

“You heard Silco,” you say, your voice quivering.

Her hand tightens on your chin, jaw clenching as her mind flashes back—Silco’s words still echoing in her head, the sharp look in his eyes, the unspoken accusation. You’re getting soft. That girl’s making you weak. His voice had been calm, but the meaning behind it hit like a knife.

Sevika’s throat tightens, her mind spiraling, but she forces the words out through clenched teeth.

“I don’t care what Silco says.”

“He’s right,” you whisper, your voice barely audible. “You have better things to focus on.”

Her grip loosens slightly. She hears it—the quiet resignation in your voice—and it punches the air out of her lungs. Her head shakes, slow and stubborn, like she’s trying to fight off a reality that’s already bleeding into the edges of her world.

The lump in her throat rises fast, hard and choking, but she swallows it down and manages to speak—barely more than a breath.

“No. No, I don’t. The only thing that matters to me… is you.”

You gently place your hand on her chest.

The warmth of your touch seeps through her skin like a slow burn—so soft, so careful, it makes her head spin. Every nerve in her body goes tense. She’s doing everything she can not to grab you, not to pull you in and kiss you like it’s the last time. Her heart pounds wildly beneath your palm, like it’s trying to speak before she can.

Her voice is barely more than a breath when she finally manages,

“What are you doing?”

You don’t answer the question. Instead, you say quietly,

“I’m no good for you, Sevika.”

The ache is instant. Sharp. It cuts deeper than she expects. She tries to shut it out, tries to push your words away, but they slip through her defenses and drag her under, swallowing her whole. Her hands tremble as she grabs yours, still resting over her heart, as if holding it there might keep you from slipping away.

Then, softly—like you’re breaking right in front of her—you whisper,

“I think I’m going to quit.”

Sevika’s mind goes blank. Her eyes widen, and all the air rushes out of her lungs in a single, silent breath. There’s a high-pitched ringing in her ears, drowning out everything else. She barely registers your hand still in hers.

Her voice breaks through the noise—raw, panicked, desperate.

“No, no, no—you can’t.”

You squeeze her hand gently, trying to soothe her, even as your voice stays quiet and steady.

“Why? It’ll be better this way. You’ll see me less… you’ll find someone better.”

Her heart feels like it’s tearing in half. Her whole body starts to shake. The thought of losing you, of you walking away—it’s too much. Her grip on your hand tightens like a lifeline, and her words come out choked, almost breathless.

“No… no, I don’t want anyone else. I just want you. Please—don’t leave me.”

You reach out with your free hand, placing it gently on her shoulder, trying to calm her.

She flinches at the touch at first—but then she feels it, feels you. Her breathing slows just enough. She leans into you, needing to be close, needing to feel you’re still here. Desperation clings to every part of her, but her voice—though still shaky—finds a little more strength.

“Why?” she whispers. “Why would you leave?”

You don’t say anything. You just let her lean into you.

She rests her forehead against your shoulder, her body melting into yours. The contact—your warmth, your presence—anchors her, even as her chest stays tight and her heart pounds like a war drum. Still, being this close to you calms her in a way nothing else can.

“Don’t go,” she whispers, barely audible.

You remain quiet. Silent, steady.

Her breathing slowly begins to even out as she clings to you, and after a long moment, she lifts her head. Her eyes meet yours—so close now, her face just inches away. Her heart stutters. She raises a trembling hand to your cheek, brushing her fingers gently over your skin. The touch is soft, careful, almost reverent.

“Please don’t leave me,” she breathes.

You look into her eyes, holding her gaze for a long, silent second before finally speaking.

“We should see other people.”

Her entire expression shatters.

The words hit her like a blow—sharp, sudden, merciless. Pain flashes across her face, wide-eyed and raw, and she goes still. Completely still. Her mind reels, spinning too fast to catch up, and her hand drops from your cheek like the strength has drained out of her.

For a heartbeat, she can’t speak. Then, broken and pleading, the only thing she can manage is—

“No… don’t. I need you.”

“Why? Why do you need me?” you snap, your voice suddenly sharp, your anger flaring without warning. “That’s not what you told Silco.” You scoot away just slightly, your voice a low growl. “Why do you need me, Sevika?”

The sudden anger in your voice catches her off guard, and for a moment, she freezes—but she doesn’t pull away. If anything, she holds on tighter. Her own frustration begins to boil beneath the surface, colliding with the ache already in her chest.

Her voice trembles as she forces the words out, emotions rushing to the surface too fast to control.

“Because you complete me,” she says, her voice cracking. “I can’t think straight without you. I can’t sleep. You’re in my head every second of the day. All I see is your face—your touch. I can’t breathe without thinking of you.”

Your eyes narrow, the pain in you sharpening into anger.

“What do you even know about me?” you spit. “You say all this, but what do you really know?”

The question lands like a blow.

Sevika’s anger collapses beneath the weight of your words. Tears rush to her eyes before she can stop them, and her body leans forward instinctively, needing to be closer, to ground herself in you. Her hands clutch your shoulders, trembling slightly, her gaze locked on yours with everything she’s got left.

“I know you’re strong,” she whispers, her voice thick, “and you’re smart, and you have a kind heart even when you try to hide it.” Her breath catches. “I know you’re everything I want—everything I need. And I… I don’t know how to exist without you.”

The last words fall from her lips in a whisper, and she trails off, her voice broken.

Your eyes soften, the sharp edge of your anger fading as your hands rise gently to her face.

Sevika’s heart twists in her chest. The second your fingers graze her skin, she leans into your touch like she’s starved for it. Every nerve lights up beneath your fingertips, her breath coming out in short, uneven gasps.

“Please,” she breathes, voice cracking, “please don’t leave me. I don’t care about anything else right now—I just need you.”

You hold her gaze, your touch still soft against her cheeks, and you answer quietly,

“That’s unhealthy, Sevika.”

The moment the words leave your mouth, her grip on you tightens—hard, desperate. She moves closer, her body almost fully pressing into yours now, like she’s afraid that if she gives you even an inch of space, she’ll lose you.

Her hand slides across your body, mapping every inch she can reach, trying to memorize it with her touch. She locks eyes with you, her own brimming with raw, overwhelming emotion.

“I don’t give a damn about unhealthy,” she whispers, her voice shaking but certain. “I want you.”

Your breath catches in your throat.

“S-Sevika,” you gasp, the sound barely making it past your lips as she towers over you—fierce, vulnerable, and completely undone by the thought of losing you.

Your gasp makes her heart stutter—loud and frantic in her chest. The sound of you saying her name sends a shiver down her spine, raw and electric. Without thinking, she straddles your waist, her hands gripping your hips with purpose, grounding herself in you. Her body presses you down into the mattress, pinning you beneath her, and her voice slips out in a strained whisper.

“Say it again… say my name again.”

You’re unraveling beneath her touch, your resolve breaking at the edges. She’s not making this easy.

“Sevi, please… stop,” you beg, your voice trembling. “You’re making this harder than it already is. Just—just let me go.”

The words hit her like a slap. Her fingers dig harder into your waist, her whole body tense, trembling. Her chest aches, her mind spinning out of control as she shakes her head, refusing to let this be the end.

“No… no, I can’t,” she chokes out, her voice thick with desperation. “I need you. Please, please don’t go—I can’t lose you.”

You close your eyes, breathing hard, each second pulling you further under. Then, your voice breaks the silence—soft, shaking.

“J-Just one more night.”

Her breath catches. Her heart surges in her chest, pounding loud and fast as she stares down at you, still clinging to your waist. Her eyes dart between your face and the way your body fits beneath hers, like she’s trying to burn it into memory.

”…Just tonight?” she whispers, barely able to get the words out.

You nod, your voice quiet and final.

“That’s all. Tomorrow… you have to let me go.”

She swallows hard, the weight of your words crashing over her. One night. Just one night to hold you, to kiss you, to touch the body she’s terrified of losing—it’s nearly unbearable. But she nods, her voice catching in her throat as she forces out the words.

“O-Okay… just one night.”

Your hands come up slowly, gently, to cup her face—tender and careful like you’re already mourning her. Sevika’s eyes flutter shut, and she leans into your touch, a shiver running down her spine at the feel of your fingers on her skin. Her breath stumbles out in ragged, uneven gasps, and her voice breaks with the weight of everything she’s holding back.

“Please… please just hold me,” she sobs, her voice cracking.

Your heart fractures at the sound. You know what tomorrow means—what it will take to walk away—but you don’t hesitate. You pull her into you, wrapping your arms around her neck and holding her tightly to your chest, like maybe if you hold her close enough, neither of you will have to face the morning.

The moment she feels you fully against her, it nearly unravels her. The warmth of your body, the way your arms encircle her—it sends every part of her spiraling. She clings to you with everything she has, her face burying in the crook of your neck as if she can hide from the future in your skin.

Her mind races—caught between the unbearable sweetness of now and the devastation waiting just beyond it. A strangled sob escapes her, rough and quiet, as she tightens her hold on you.

She wants to remember everything. Every second. Every breath. Every inch of your body pressed to hers. She wants to burn this into her soul—because she knows after tonight, all she’ll have left… is memory.

Your heart tightens painfully in your chest as you hear her sob quietly against you. Instinctively, your hands rise to her hair, fingers threading gently through the soft strands.

Sevika shivers at the sensation, tingles spreading through her body with every stroke. She clings to you tighter, her heart breaking a little more with each passing second. Every breath, every touch feels endless—and yet not enough.

Her face is wet with tears, her voice barely more than a fragile whisper.

“I love you.”

You keep running your hands through her hair, wordless, unable to get words out of your throat. The weight of it threatens to shatter you into pieces if you try.

Her whole body trembles now, shaking with the force of all she’s holding in. Your fingers in her hair are the only thing keeping her tethered, steadying her fragile heart.

She presses closer, as close as she can, as if the thought of you leaving could dissolve her into nothing. Her voice breaks, barely audible.

“Please don’t leave me… I can’t do this.”

“Please don’t, Sevi,” you beg softly, the anguish in your voice raw and trembling. You can’t bear to see her so broken, so utterly undone in your arms.

Your hand moves, rubbing slow, soothing circles against her back—gentle and steady.

“I need you. I need you so bad. Please don’t leave me.”

“Shh, Sevi. Shh,” you murmur, your touch the only anchor holding her mind from fracturing completely.

The warmth of your hand against her skin is like fire—both burning and healing.

She buries her face deeper into your shoulder, hands clutching at you like a lifeline. Her voice strains with desperate longing.

“Please… I want to feel you. I need to feel you.”

You slide your hands gently underneath her shirt, fingertips grazing her bare skin slowly, your hands move up and down her back in a soft, rhythmic motion.

Then, unexpectedly, you start to cry—quiet sobs at first, then deeper, wrenching sobs that shake your whole body against hers.

Sevika shivers, overwhelmed by the sensation of your skin against hers. The heat of your touch races along her nerves, igniting a fire beneath her skin. The sound of your crying stirs something fierce inside her, and without thinking, she clings tighter, arms wrapping around your shoulders, one hand settling gently at the back of your head.

“Shh, don’t cry… please, don’t cry,” she whispers, voice thick with emotion.

Your tear-filled voice breaks through, trembling.

“You’re crying too…”

Her heart clenches, as if your words have knocked the air out of her lungs. She lets out a strangled sob, her whole body trembling against yours. She buries her face deeper into your shoulder, tasting the bittersweet salt of your skin as tears stream freely down her cheeks, soaking into your shirt.

“I know,” she murmurs, voice raw and broken, “I can’t help it. I just need you… I need you so bad.”

You pull back slightly from her chest, then press your lips gently to the tears streaming down her face.

The warmth of your mouth against her skin shocks her whole body — a jolt that sends her heart pounding against her ribs. She lets out a shaky gasp, her mind swirling in a chaotic storm of feelings and thoughts.

“Please… please don’t leave me,” she whispers, voice trembling.

You don’t answer with words. Instead, you keep kissing her face softly, your lips brushing over her skin as you wipe away her tears with slow.

Her entire body aches with the cruel knowledge that this moment can’t last forever. Her breathing quickens, desperation threading through her voice as the words spill out, raw and pleading.

“Kiss me… please, kiss me. I need to feel you. I need you so bad.”

Without hesitation, you crash your lips onto hers—urgent, breathless, hungry. Your mouths meld together.

Her lips move against yours with desperate longing, her mind empty except for the overwhelming need to taste you, to lose herself in the moment and forget everything else.

Your body trembles as you kiss her, one hand tangling in her hair, pulling her closer, desperate to feel every inch of her pressed against you.

Sevika’s heart thunders in her throat, her body aching with need. Her hands dig into your waist, gripping you tightly and hauling you closer with all the strength she can muster.

Your skin against hers blazes like fire, and she can’t hold back the ragged moan that slips past her lips as your mouths move in perfect, hungry sync.

You kiss her lips as if trying to imprint her taste into your very soul, desperate to remember this moment—and the feeling of her against you—forever.

Her hand slides up from your waist to your hips, fingers digging in, gripping you with urgent need. She pushes you gently but firmly down onto the bed, hovering over you, her face just inches from yours. Pulling back from your lips, she whispers, breath hot against your skin,

“I need you. I need you. Please… tell me you need me.”

“Sevi,” you say her name like a warning, your voice cracking.

The way you say it steals the breath right from her lungs. She’s already teetering on the edge, body pressed flush against yours.

Tears streak down her cheeks as her voice breaks in desperate pleading.

“Tell me. I need to know. I need to hear you say it. Please.”

“Fuck, Sevika. I need you. I’m always going to need you,” you confess, your voice raw and ragged at the edges.

She crushes her lips back to yours, unable to get enough of your taste, clinging to you as if you’re the only thing keeping her alive. Without thinking, her body takes over—her hips begin to move against you, rolling and pressing closer, craving every inch of you.

You grunt low in your throat as your hips rise, rolling messily and needily against hers, matching the rhythm of your kiss.

Sevika’s mind spins out of control with the feel of you beneath her—the way your hips move, the heat of your body pressed so close. She can’t hold back the sounds escaping her lips, raw and unfiltered.

Your touch feels like ecstasy flooding through her veins. Her hands slide up to grip your hips tightly, pulling you closer as she mirrors your movement, rolling her hips against yours again.

The kiss deepens—desperate, urgent—her body trembling with need.

You let out a soft whimper into her mouth, your tongue tracing the bottom of Sevika’s lip as your hands slide down to grip the sides of her torso.

The sound sends a shiver through her body—your hands holding her so firmly, so possessively, feels electric. She deepens the kiss, inviting your tongue inside, her whole body aching to melt into you. Her hands clamp tightly around your hips, anchoring you close.

You snake your tongue deeper into her mouth, your hands exploring her sides as you continue to grind your hips against hers with slow, desperate pressure.

The sensation of your tongue sliding against hers draws a low, ragged moan from Sevika’s lips. Her head spins, thoughts dissolving into pure sensation. The only thing keeping her tethered is the overwhelming feeling of you pressed against her.

Finally, you pull back slightly, breath ragged and heavy, panting as you keep your hips moving in sync—each press and grind stoking the fire between you both.

Sevika rests her head against the crook of your neck, breath ragged and uneven, her body burning with need—never quite satisfied. Her hips roll against yours again, the heat pooling deep inside her intensifying, craving more. A soft, desperate whine slips from her lips,

“G-god, you feel so good.”

You flush at her words, hips grinding upward to meet hers. Throwing your head back, you release a low, guttural moan, panting her name,

“Sevika.”

The sound of her name on your lips sends her head spinning, her hips continuing their slow, hungry rhythm against yours. Her mouth trails hot kisses down your neck as she breathes,

“Say my name again… please, say it again.”

Your hand slides up to her stomach, pressing firmly into her skin, feeling the tight muscles beneath your fingers. You grope possessively as your hips move frantically in time with hers, groaning her name again and again,

“Sevi… Sevi…”

Sevika’s breath catches, her body trembling beneath your touch. Your voice—calling her name like a prayer—drives her wild. Her hips grind harder, a loud moan ripping free as she struggles to find the words,

“Say that again… please, say it again. I need to hear you say my name.”

Her eyes lock onto yours, desperation and need burning in their depths as she practically begs.

You slide your hand higher under her shirt, fingers grazing warm, bare skin as your hips move faster against hers. Spent and panting, you whimper her name,

“Sevika.”

Her voice breaks through the haze, trembling with need,

“Say it again… please, say my name again… I need to hear you say it.”

You chant her name like a prayer, lips barely parting,

“Sevika… Sevika.”

The coil in your stomach tightens with every thrust, your hands roaming beneath her shirt, gripping her chest possessively.

The sound of your name echoes in her mind, a hypnotic mantra she can’t escape. She grinds desperately against you, every nerve on fire, every inch craving more. Your touch sends shivers down her spine, and she presses her body closer, voice hoarse and raw,

“Again… again…”

You beg, voice trembling, “Please, Sevika, please don’t stop,” whimpering her name as her hips roll frantically against yours, your fingers teasing her nipples through soft skin.

Hearing you plead is almost too much for Sevika to bear. She needs you—needs you now. She presses harder against you, her hand tightening on your hips, breath hot and ragged. Your touch on her bare chest nearly overwhelms her, and her voice falls soft, almost pleading, “Say… say I’m yours.”

“W-what?” you ask, confused, mind blank as your hips continue their frantic rhythm.

Sevika’s control slips completely. Her hips keep rocking against yours with wild abandon, words spilling out like a desperate confession. Her hand slides up to grip your throat, holding just enough to command your attention.

“Say I’m yours. Tell me I’m yours.”

“We shouldn’t even be doing this,” you gasp, breath catching as her hips grind harder against you.

“I don’t care. I don’t care. I just need you.” Her voice rushes out, hand tightening around your throat as her body moves relentlessly against yours. Every inch of her is desperate for you.

“Fuck… you’re mine, Sevika. You’re mine,” you finally growl, hips bucking and stuttering as the coil in your stomach tightens, your climax rushing close.

The sound of you claiming her sends a jolt straight through Sevika’s body, everything snapping into sharp focus. Her movements become more frantic, grinding against you harder and faster, desperate to feel every inch of you.

“Say it again, please—say it again. I want to hear you say it, that I belong to you,” she begs, her voice trembling with need.

“Fuck, baby, you belong to me. You’re mine—mine. No one else will ever fuck you like this,” you growl, your hips rising to meet hers in a fierce, desperate rhythm.

Sevika moans louder this time, the sound raw and hungry. Hearing you claim her so possessively drives her wild, and her grip on your hip tightens, pulling you even closer, burning with need.

“Baby, I’m gonna come if you keep this up,” you groan out, frustration mixing with desperation.

But she doesn’t stop—can’t stop. She’s too far gone, lost in the moment, grinding against you with wild abandon. Her hands grip your hips tightly as her head drops close to your ear, her voice trembling with raw need, “Yes, yes—please come for me. I need to see you come.”

Your core clenches at her words, your back arches involuntarily, hips slamming harder into hers as you tremble on the edge. “Fuck, Sevika, fuck, fuck!” you cry out, hands scrambling over her back, nails digging in, leaving scratch marks.

“Oh God, yes! Yes, please come for me!” Her mind is gone, completely lost in you. The sound of your begging, the feeling of your hands on her skin—it overwhelms her. She can feel herself teetering on the brink, her body starting to shiver uncontrollably. Her vision blurs, but all she can focus on is you.

“I’m coming!” you cry out, hips stuttering wildly against hers as the wave of your climax crashes through you, overwhelming every nerve. Your voice breaks as you scream, “Fuck, Sevika, you’re all mine—you’re mine”

Her body trembles in perfect sync with yours, hips stuttering against yours, the sound of your desperate plea sending her over the edge. With a loud, shuddering cry, she succumbs to her own release, collapsing against you as her body quakes through the climax. Between ragged moans and heavy pants, she gasps, “Yes… I’m yours. I’m all yours. I’m yours.”

You lift your hand gently, brushing a stray lock of hair from her face. Your eyes, heavy with sadness, lock onto hers. “Your eyes are beautiful, Sevi,” you whisper.

The way you look at her makes her chest ache. Her breath is still ragged, her mind foggy from everything that just happened. She gazes back at you, drinking in every detail of your face. “No,” she murmurs, “you’re the one who’s beautiful.”

“Just let me have this,” you say softly, your eyes searching hers, knowing that tomorrow will change everything.

She sees the sorrow etched in your expression, and it tightens something inside her. She pulls you closer, letting out a quiet sigh, her gaze never leaving yours. “Fine,” she whispers.

Your thumb strokes her cheek tenderly, your eyes lingering on hers a moment longer. “You have the most gorgeous eyes I’ve ever seen, Sevi,” you say softly, pressing your forehead against hers. A single tear escapes your eye and trails down your face.

The warmth of your touch and the sincerity in your voice send a shiver through her. Her throat tightens, and she reaches up to cup your face, her body still trembling from everything, overwhelmed by the rawness between you. “Please… don’t cry,” she pleads.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper weakly, your eyes slipping away from her face.

Her heart twists painfully at the sight of you crying. Gently, she cups your face in her hands and lifts it, forcing you to meet her gaze. “Hey, hey—look at me. Don’t look away.”

Tears continue to slide down your cheeks as you lock eyes with her. “Mmm, so sorry, Sevika,” you murmur, barely above a whisper.

The raw ache in your voice and the way you say her name shatters something inside her. A lump forms in her throat as she pulls your face into the hollow of her neck. Her arms wrap around you tightly, one hand cradling the back of your head. “Don’t apologize. Stop saying sorry.”

You fall silent, your sobs filling the quiet bedroom.

The sound of your crying breaks her heart, and she holds you even closer, her body trembling with yours.

You press a gentle kiss against her neck.

Her voice is soft, almost fragile as she whispers, “Please don’t cry anymore. Please.”

“It’s hard not to,” you answer softly, your voice trembling.

Seeing you like this twists her heart again. She keeps her eyes locked on yours, body still pressed against you, and leans in to place a tender kiss on your forehead.

“I’m sorry we couldn’t make this work,” you say softly, your voice barely more than a whisper.

Her chest tightens, a sharp ache spreading through her. Tears sting her eyes—this isn’t how it was supposed to end. Her mind races a hundred miles an hour, but her body responds without thinking, pulling you closer in a desperate hug. Her voice trembles, nearly breaking as she meets your gaze. “Please… please don’t say that.”

“Sevika,” you say, voice weak but firm, “you know what I said. I meant it. This is the last night.”

Your words hit her like a punch to the chest. Her body trembles, and her heart feels like it’s lodged in her throat. She struggles to hold herself together. “No… no, you can’t. You can’t just leave. You’re mine. I’m not ready to say goodbye.”

“You agreed,” you murmur, voice cracking.

She clings to you so tightly, speaking between shaky, gasping breaths, “I know… I know. But I can’t. I can’t live like this. I need you.”

“It’ll be okay,” you say, desperation coloring your voice, trying to convince even yourself.

She can feel the breaking in your heart, and it tears her apart. She holds on, unable to stop herself, her head spinning as every fiber of her wants to fight this. But all she can do is cry, her body shaking as she buries herself into you, trying to convince herself this isn’t how it’s supposed to end.

You sink back against the bed, pulling Sevika down with you. She clings to you, her body trembling, hands gripping the front of your shirt, her face buried in the crook of your neck.

Your fingers thread gently through her hair, silently trying to memorize every detail, engraving this moment deep inside your mind.

She feels your touch, soft and soothing, and a quiet whimper escapes her. Every second feels like torture. Slowly, she lifts her head just enough to meet your gaze, her eyes tracing the lines of your face, desperate to memorize every beautiful edge, wanting to live here, in this moment, forever.

“I love you,” you say, voice heavy with sadness.

The words strike her like a blow to the chest; her eyes sting with tears as she fights to hold them back. “Say it again, please.”

You cup her face in your hands, your voice barely more than a whisper as you say it again, “I’ll always love you.”

She clings tighter, as if trying to hold you close forever. Her voice cracks and pleads, “Again. Please say it again. Don’t stop saying it.”

You bury your face in her neck, silent this time.

She clings like she’s drowning, tears spilling freely down her cheeks. Her whole body trembles against yours, desperate for more, needing to hear it again and again. “Please don’t stop saying it. Please don’t stop telling me you love me. Don’t let go.”

Tears blur your vision at her desperation, your heart breaking. “I love you, Sevi. Always will.”

She sobs against your chest, her body shaking as she holds onto you like her life depends on it, grasping every word. “Please don’t go. I need to hear you say it again.”

Instead of saying it again, you pull her closer, drawing her into one last kiss—soft, slow, and gentle.

She melts into the feeling, lost in the press of your lips against hers. A soft moan escapes her, her hand moving to grip the back of your head. The way your bodies fit together drives her wild.

You slowly pull back, eyes locking with hers, noticing the tear stains on her cheeks.

Her gaze is blurry with tears, her chin resting against your chest, a strangled sound caught in her throat. Your faces are inches apart, and she longs to get lost here forever, but the sorrow in your eyes tells a different story.

“It’ll be okay,” you say quietly, as if trying to convince yourself.

She hears the lie beneath your words and pulls you tighter, hands clutching at your body like a lifeline. Then, burying her face against your chest, her voice cracks as she pleads, “Don’t lie to me. Don’t say that. Please, don’t say that. It’s not going to be okay.”

You stroke slow, soft circles on her back, your voice a gentle whisper, “Shh… go to sleep, Sevi.”

“Y-you’ll still be here in the morning, right? Please don’t leave while I’m sleeping.”

Your heart shatters, knowing you won’t be—but you lie anyway. “I’ll be here in the morning,” you say, glancing away.

She relaxes slightly at your words. “Promise?”

You don’t answer, just keep rubbing slow circles on her back, trying to soothe her.

The silence cuts deep, a knife twisting in her gut. She’s barely holding herself together. Her voice is fragile, broken. “Please say something… anything.”

“I love you,” you whisper weakly. “Sleep with me?”

You feel her nod against your chest. “Yes. Of course.”

Your hand continues its gentle rhythm.

“Please don’t stop. Please don’t let go. I can’t.”

“Shh, Sevika. Just close your eyes,” you murmur against her neck, still tracing soft circles on her back.

You close your own eyes, resting your head on the pillow.

Sevika shifts, seeking you even closer, needing to feel you. Her mind drifts slowly toward sleep, but her body trembles with every breath.

You wrap your arms around her tighter, pulling her close against your body. Softly, you press a kiss to her forehead.

She finally lets go, the last of her strength fading as she surrenders to your embrace. A tired, broken whimper slips from her throat as she clings to you like you’re her lifeline.

“Please… I need you. I need you so much. I don’t care. I don’t know what I’m going to do tomorrow. Please don’t let go.”

You stay silent for a moment, then speak, holding her even tighter.

“It’s okay, Sevi. I’ve got you right now. You’re okay.”

She can’t hold back any longer; a soft sob escapes her lips.

“I can’t… I’m losing it. Don’t let go of me. Please, don’t let go. I can’t.”

“Hey… it’s okay, baby. I’ve got you. I’ve got you.”

Her body shakes against your hold, tears and sobs escaping uncontrollably.

“Baby, you’re exhausted. You need to sleep.”

Slowly, she drifts off, still clinging to you, seeking comfort in your arms.

You stay awake with her, holding her close, knowing what tomorrow will bring.

Sevika sleeps through the night, her body and mind finally worn out. She vaguely feels you holding her, and instinctively, she holds you tighter.

Without a word, you slip quietly from her embrace She’s still mostly asleep when the bed shifts beneath her. The warmth that’s been wrapped around her all night—the safety, the weight, the presence—starts to fade. She can feel it even in the haze of sleep, the way you pull away. You head toward the door, your heart breaking with every step. You pause, looking back one last time before leaving her alone in the silence.

Her fingers twitch against the sheets, still clinging to the space where you laid. She tries to reach for you, but her limbs are heavy, too sluggish to respond. Panic flares faintly in her chest, distant but sharp, like a scream muffled under water.

She tries to say your name, to call you back—but the sound that leaves her lips is barely more than a fragile whimper.

“No… come back… please…”

It’s so quiet, it barely exists. A broken plea lost in the dark.

Her mind tries to hold on, to pull her back to you, but sleep is stronger—pulling her under, dragging her down into its depths. Her body finally relaxes again, surrendering to exhaustion, breath evening out. She slips away into the dream realm, too tired to fight anymore.

But even in sleep, even as her body rests, one question lingers like a splinter in her soul:

Will she ever see you again?