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so regal in his finest silks ✨ for @nikjima, always making him look so foncy ❤️‍🔥

HE LOOKS SO MEAN AND AMAZING IN THIS REEEEEEEE

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gonna eat drywall 🕳️

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A WIP because I really don’t know how to proceed with colouring. Does anyone have any colour palette suggestions?

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Do you take reqs, I love what you write about Steb!

Hey anon, really glad you're enjoying the Steb content so far!

As for reqs, they scare me because I hardly ever receive any. But I'm always happy to give it a go!

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Them acting as if we didn't know what they are. 😌

Seems like we're getting close to the end! ✨

Also I think it's the last one I can post here, right?

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Emmrich Volkarin + doing the shoulder and neck thing

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I've been thinking, can we have a nsfw alphabet about Steb? (or Scar), I haven't seen anything about it yet, so we really need it. (it's really up to you, it can be sfw or nsfw)🙏🏻

Ohhhh anon, I'm so glad you asked. Here we go! (might do Scar and sfw later)

STEB NS//FW ALPHABET

More Steb headcanons

MDNI

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

If you think that fish-man is going to sleep after doing the do, you are WRONG! King of aftercare, gentle caresses on your skin, cuddles, massage (he uses special techniques he learnt during his paramedical training), and he will also be happy to cook something for you if you’re hungry. If he was a bit rougher than usual, he will kiss every sore spot on your body, for hours if you ask him

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Your mouth. He loves everything about your mouth. They way it moves when you talk or smile, the sounds that come out of it when he kisses you or makes love to you. He also loves the things you do to him with this mouth

On himself, he is quite proud of his hands. They’re quite soft, delicate and skilful (you definitely know something about that last one). He likes to use his hands to show you just how much he adores you

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

It can get a little messy due to the amount of cum he produces. It keeps dripping and dripping, it’s a lot to handle but the two of you have learnt how to deal with it. Also, Steb always cleans after himself, good fish-man that he is. The refractory period can take a while, though, but he has hands and a mouth for a reason

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

He loves to see his fluids mix with yours, like he has to see it, visually. Something about getting down and dirty

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Not all that experienced, he hasn’t been with many people before. The first time you get intimate,  he will map your entire body and commit every detail to memory to learn exactly what you like. His observing skills and ability to learn make up for his lack of experience, nothing to worry about here

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Watching you ride him is his favourite, and nothing comes close. He gets to see your body AND your eyes, and that’s the most important thing to him. He is utterly and unequivocally in love with your body, and he is mesmerised by the way you move on top of him. If you hold hands while you do it, it’s all over for him

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Steb doesn’t play when it comes to sex, he’s very serious (in a romantic way of course), and will be driven by the need to make you feel loved and leave you satisfied. He definitely gets a little goofier during after care

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Steb is completely hairless down there. The only hair you will find is on his head, and he takes great care of those because his species don’t usually have any. He’s quite proud of his undercut, thank you very much

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Romantic like you wouldn’t believe, lots of eye contact because he always wants to make sure that you’re feeling good. Prepare yourself for a lot of intense kissing sessions. His main love language is touch, and no part of your body will be left behind.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

He will sometimes indulge in little solo sessions when he takes a bath. It’s a bit of a spiritual exercise for him. One time, you walked in on him jacking off, and asked him to keep going while you touched yourself too. And it has become something you really like doing

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Steb has a bit of a submissive nature, and praise really works for him. Call him a good boy and he will be done for. Sometimes you will say that in the middle of the day just to see him blush furiously. When you ride him, he really likes when you get dominant and pin his wrists above his head, that will turn him into a whimpering mess in no time

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

He’s a romantic, so the bed will be his go to. Because of his introverted nature he is not really into risky locations where there would be a chance of getting caught. He won’t say no if you wanna ride him on the couch, though. Also, shower/bath sex, he’s the most comfortable whenever there’s water around

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Kiss that fish-man’s neck once, and you know neither of you will be getting out of the house for the next hour at least. It’s not that his neck is particularly sensitive, but there’s something so sensual about the way you guide his head back to have full access. He will drop whatever he’s doing and pull you into the bedroom

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

He doesn’t mind getting a bit rough, but he won’t slap/hit you, spit on you, or choke you. If he wraps his hand around your neck, he’s very careful not to press against your throat. If you're into that, it's something you will have to talk about

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Steb’s tongue game is unmatched. It’s much longer than humans, very strong, and it doesn’t tire easily. He will make you cum relentlessly with his mouth alone, only occasionally using his hand. He eats you out enthusiastically, moaning while he licks and sucks you all over. And most of all, he will feast on your juices and won’t leave a single drop. He just loves the taste of you

He likes receiving too. He will guide your movements ever so gently and will be extra careful not to thrust into your mouth without warning. His favourite thing is pulling all the way out, and then watch as his sizeable length disappears all the way back into your throat

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Steb doesn’t fuck, he makes love, unless you ask him to be rough. Sensual tender lovemaking all around, slow and deep while maintaining eye contact. He wants you to feel every single one of his ridges inside you

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

He doesn’t mind it, but they’re not his go to. He’d rather take his time with you to show you the depth of his adoration. You usually indulge in quickies if the two of you have busy schedules

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

He’s a very curious guy, always eager to learn, and so he wants to try every position in the book. He loves the idea of exploring his sexuality with you and experimenting. It’s the same when it comes to kinks. If you wish to try something new, he’s down. If it’s something a little extreme, he will have his reservations, but he will try, for you

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

He can last very long, and you usually come multiple times before he does. However, once he has orgasmed, you will have to be patient

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

He doesn’t own any, but if you have a collection of your own, he’s very curious about it and will ask you how everything works and what it is used for. He will gladly implement them in your sex life

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

He doesn’t really understand the concept of teasing, maybe it’s a species-related thing, but to him, it feels like he’s denying you, hurting you, and he doesn’t like that. Recently, you’ve tried to teach him that denial can be very pleasurable by teasing him during foreplay, and he is starting to understand how that works. It’s a slow process

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Steb doesn’t speak, but he will moan. A lot. He will start grunting when he’s close and his face gills will move as well. If you tease him, it won’t take long for him to whine inside a pillow or into his hand, truly a delightful sound

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

Sex in front of a mirror, yes please. Again, if he gets to watch you from a different angle, he’s down. Your bodies are very different, but seeing the way they mould so beautifully together, the way your body responds to his and vice-versa, that’s sacred to him 

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

It’s hidden in a genital pouch, and frees itself naturally when there’s sex in the air. Not exceedingly thick, but quite long. Multiple ridges which are ideally placed, and fins that are here for your pleasure, and your pleasure only

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

About average, he can go a long time without having sex, it doesn’t bother him. But if you tempt him, tease him, or start nuzzling and kissing down his neck, he will become very needy 

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

He’s always the last one to go to sleep because he is on aftercare duty. He just has to make sure you’re okay before doing anything else. He will stroke your head and run his fingers along your skin until you fall asleep. Sometimes, he will even hum a little tune

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Another piece from the strip game with Scar and Steb! On the main post on twitter he's changing the rules a little, but had to add something for the clear one as well ahah

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Eye of the Storm - Chapter 5

Pairing: Silco x Reader Rating: Explicit Warnings/Tags: graphic depiction of violence; slow burn; enemies to lovers, enforcer!reader Story summary: After a chain of unexpected events, Jinx is arrested, and you find yourself in possession of the gemstone. On top of it all, you are forced into a reluctant alliance with Silco. What else could possibly go wrong?

Chapter summary: With the help of a friend, you attempt to steal the documents requested by Silco, and make disturbing discoveries along the way.

Word count: 3.4k

Read on ao3 ⎜ Previous chapter ⎜Next chapter (tba)

The week flies by, though it’s largely uneventful. Lots of patrols in the city, mountains of paperwork, and a handful of arrests for petty crimes. Whenever possible, you request assignments beyond the bridges.

Not only is it more hectic there, but it allows you to personally meddle with the disproportionate amount of arrests at the border—most of which are children. Wealthy topsiders who indulge in Shimmer don’t bother crossing into the undercity to get their fix. Instead, they have it delivered to their doorstep. To facilitate this, the chem-barons rely mainly on child couriers. Less conspicuous, quick on their feet, and very good at hiding in plain sight, they’re the most logical choice for this kind of work. 

As an enforcer, your orders are simple: arrest the couriers, confiscate the cargo, and deliver a harsh lecture about the consequences of breaking Piltover’s laws. Whatever that means. You satisfy yourself with the lecturing part. The prisons are already overpopulated with Zaunites who have no business being there, and kids represent an overwhelming portion of it. Granted, sending them back to their boss empty-handed is not ideal, but the most chem-barons can do is rough them up a little. They’re well aware that the workforce is not infinite, it would be bad for business. It’s not ideal, and it doesn’t fix the problem, but you’d rather have that than send them all to Stillwater. Needless to say your Piltovian colleagues tend to be less lenient. 

Hopefully you will have more freedom over your affectations once you officially take you position as Major. As you think about it, you realise that controls at the border loosened abruptly when Marcus Sheriff. Everybody knows why now. You hate to admit it, but you might actually miss the bastard. Warren will have a very different approach then his predecessor, that’s for sure. The ceremony is tomorrow and the mere thought of him parading through the streets with that kind of power at his fingertips sickens you. He has always been the confrontational type, and given the current tensions, if he has his way, things will only get worse.

You shove your helmet and gloves in your locker with a sigh. Six days have passed and you have yet to learn much about Jinx’s condition. Luckily, you just happen to have your monthly physical today. You have no doubt that Dr. Hansen is involved in her recovery and will have a lot to say about the girl. He always talks too much for his own good, but that’s not what worries you. Coaxing the information out of him is one thing, but figuring out how to steal the personal files without anyone noticing is another challenge entirely. It’s not a problem if he realises the documents are gone later—so long as you’re careful, no one will trace it back to you. The key is finding a way to be alone in the room for just a few minutes. Your mind races as you weigh your options, frustration bubbling inside. Maybe there’s someone who could help you with a little distraction. Of course—why hadn’t you thought of it before? There’s someone you need to talk to urgently. You snap your locker shut, and after a quick goodbye to your partner of the day, you head straight to the medical facility. 

Located just a few blocks away from the Police Department headquarters, it is a large building that welcomes patients, but also classes, conferences and summits for those in the medical profession. It’s also where every enlisted enforcer goes to take their annual physical. You, however, get to visit about twice a month thanks to the abominations you call lungs. But first, there’s a certain Vastaya you need to find. 

As you walk in the main lobby, you pray that he is indeed working today. A quick glance at your pocket watch reads 9:45p.m. The dining hall it is then. Unsurprisingly, the place is packed, and incredibly noisy. You weave through the tables, your eyes shifting in the sea of identical uniforms and blouses. Fortunately, your target stands out from the human crowd with his very distinctive features. You up your pace.

"Dren!" You wave at him and notice the way his expression shifts as his vivid green eyes set on you. As soon as you reach him, he excuses himself from his comrades and rises fluidly from his seat. Before you can even get a word out, he grabs you by the elbow with his large clawed hand and pulls you to a quiet corner, away from the noise and prying eyes. 

"What’s wrong with y—"

"A couple days ago," he interrupts, "I get a memo from my friend that reads like a damn suicide note. Not one word since, and you expect me to be normal about it?" He hisses, his protruding fangs showing much more than usual.

"A suicide note?" You repeat, caught off guard.

"There’s this one thing I gotta do," he quotes you verbatim, his voice heavy with accusation. "If you don’t hear from me soon…what was I supposed to make of that?" The raw emotion in his tone—equal parts anger, fear, and shaky relief—hits you harder than expected. You recall scribbling the note in a rush, but it hadn’t sounded nearly as dramatic at the time. You apologise profusely and reassure him how you can, although your words don’t sound very convincing even to you. In truth, your safety is hanging by a thread, and if you have nothing to show for the next time you meet with Silco, you seriously doubt that he’ll simply grant you a second chance.

"Are you gonna tell me what this is all about?" Dren asks, leaning back slightly, as though bracing himself for whatever revelations you are about to drop on him, should you choose to. You owe him that much, and so you lay it out for him. Your first meeting with Silco, which you confess didn’t exactly go smoothly, but all things considered it could have gone much worse. You skirt around the edges of the most important details, carefully omitting the Gemstone. Instead, you imply that both of you are in a precarious arrangement—each holding something the other wants. For now, that tenuous balance is all that’s keeping you alive. You feel a bit guilty withholding information from Dren, but you meant what you said about the stone: its whereabouts need to stay secret. Not just for your sake, but for Dren’s as well. It’s safer if he doesn’t know. 

When you finish, silence sets between the two of you. The longer he stares at you, the clearer it becomes: he must think you finally lost your mind. He pinches the tip of his snoot, a habit of his when he’s thinking something over—and, more importantly, trying not to say the first thing that comes to mind.

"Do you think you can trust him?" Even he knows the answer to that question. To the average Piltovian, Silco is an industrialist—a business man whose dealings are above board by undercity standards. But for enforcers stationed at the border, and more recently for the Council, the façade is paper-thin. Once you know about the chem-barons, it doesn’t take much to figure out who’s truly pulling the strings. Silco is a dangerous man, but you wouldn’t have come to him if you had a better option. That’s exactly what you tell Dren, and you’re grateful when he listens without interrupting. He is well aware that wearing that uniform is a burden more than anything. On your end, you’ve never hidden your priorities from him. Piltover might sign your paychecks, but your home will always come first, even if that implies making dubious choices and people.

"Well that’s…a lot," Dren says with a nervous snort. "At least I’m glad you’re okay. I hope you know what you’re doing." He rubs your shoulder comfortingly, and you nod in thanks, placing your hand over his as you blink the wetness of your eyes away. Finally, some of the weight and tension from the past week lifts off your shoulders. It’s not unusual for you to keep everything bottled up, but admittedly this is a lot more than you’re used to. It’s a true relief to be able to share this with someone. 

"So," he then says hesitantly, with an air of forced casualness, trying to lighten the mood. "Any other secret plans you wanna share?" The smile vanishes from his features as there is clearly something else. 

"Actually yes." Without beating around the bush, you ask if there’s any way he could distract Dr. Hansen during your check-up—something subtle, effective, and that would keep him away long enough for you to poke around the office. As before, you leave the most important details out.

"I don’t want to get you in trouble, Dren. If it’s too much, I’ll find a way," you say, meaning every word. You’ve already leaned on him more than you should today. His green eyes narrow slightly, before an exaggerated pout spreads across his features.

"Are you calling me incompetent?" He asks, feigning deep offence, as though you’ve wounded his pride.

"Dren, I’m serious," you retort. It shouldn’t surprise you that he’s joking about it—ever the competitive sort. Frankly, there was little chance he would turn down the challenge, and unconsciously or not, a part of you knew that. You’re afraid to ask yourself what that says about you.

"I know, but you also said it was important," he says, his teasing demeanour giving way to sincerity. "I wouldn’t do it if I didn’t trust you."

"Thank you." The knot of anxiety in your stomach loosens just enough to let adrenaline creep in. No backing down now. It’s time to get your hands dirty. "I should be going then," you say, stepping away. "Can’t wait to see what you come up with." Dren gives you a sly wink in return, his sharp teeth flashing in a mischievous grin.

You sit on a cold metal chair in the empty waiting room, trying to look casual, but somehow, nothing feels natural. You smile to yourself. Stealing used to be such a trivial activity when you were a kid. You snatched from stalls without a second thought, pocketed mechanical parts as you walked past scrap shops like it was nothing. The years have tamed you for sure, but now would be an ideal time to get back to your roots.

The plan—if you can call it that—plays over in your head like a record. Get through the initial pleasantries with the doctor, wait for Dren’s cue. You can clearly picture the layout of the office from your previous visits. It’s not huge, but it’s always full of paperwork everywhere. It might be a headache. Your chest tightens at the thought of fumbling. There are so many ways that this could go wrong. But you remind yourself that failure is not an option. After a few minutes, Dr. Hansen’s voice breaks through the silence. “Officer, please come in.” He says with a tired smile. 

The check up is very routine: height, weight, blood pressure and heart rate. Then onto the physical examination. As is customary, Hansen spends extra time fidgeting with your chemsurge. He’s clearly fascinated by the technology, but his bias always gets the better of him.

"You should really consider looking into what Hextech does in terms of respiratory devices. I’m not sure how reliable this is." He’s been saying that for years, ever since you had it installed.  

"As expensive as this was, Hextech is…too rich for my blood, I’m afraid." You reply evenly, and he simply shrugs in response.

"This is decent, I suppose." Clearly he doesn’t believe that. "Gutter work, but decent." It gets less aggravating after a while, but it’s still worth noting, the way they can’t help but speak ill of the undercity. That’s fine, as far as you’re concerned, Hextech has never done anything for you, and you’re more than satisfied with the gutter work. 

Suddenly, there’s a big boom coming from the corridor, like a body falling limply and fully to the ground. And then a strangled scream calling for help. Oh, Dren is really going to put on a show then… Hansen looks at you with stupor, excuses himself and rushes through the door. He has barely made it past the threshold that your body goes straight to auto pilot. You run behind the desk, opening the top drawer, and closing it when you find nothing of interest. You repeat the same process with two others before finding something worth going through. A stack of patient files, neatly sorted by name. Your eyes travel frantically back and forth from the ajar door to your hands as they flip through the documentation. At the same time, you keep an ear out in case any footsteps come a little too close. 

No luck with this drawer either, you curse, looking at the shelves around the office. There’s far too much to search through. You look for something isolated, something important enough to be kept separate, and that would pertain to an ongoing intervention. A pile of paper tucked in the bottom of a shelf catches your eye. A variety of bills are stacked at the top, but you’re interested in the black folder beneath it. Skimming through the first pages, you let out an involuntary sound of relief as you stumble upon a picture of Jinx. No need to linger any more than strictly necessary. You get off the ground and shove the large file in your backpack. 

Dren has done his part tremendously well because you get about two minutes to yourself before Dr. Hansen walks back into the room, his face a perfect portrait of exasperation. He drops in the chair beside the examining table with a sigh that practically begs for the day to be over.

"Everything okay?" You ask innocently, and he answers like it's physically painful to recount what just happened.

"Some idiot almost choked himself eating grains," he says, rubbing the bridge of his nose intensely. "Stupid way to die, but it happens more than you think. The healthcare services are saturated, and this is what we have to deal with." You nod empathically, biting the inside of your cheek to keep from laughing. 

"I can believe that. And I hear we’re hosting criminals now, too." Not your subtlest attempt at fishing for information, but Hansen takes the bait immediately. 

"Ah, you’re not the first to tell me that this week. And let me tell you, this one’s a real handful. Resilient like you wouldn’t believe, like she refused to die, really."

"You think she’ll make it?"

"Oh, she’s in stable condition, should be released in a couple of days, it’s just a formality. It’s not the body I’m worried about, though, it’s the mind. That girl’s completely insane. She won’t last a month in Stillwater, and that’s being generous." He sneers. By the sound of it, you bet he’s one of the guys who’d rather you have left her for dead on the bridge.

"Good riddance." You say, buttoning up your collar as the check up comes to an end. 

Hansen gives you a prescription for painkillers, which are technically for your mom, but he doesn’t need to know that. As far as you’ve told him, the chemsurge hurts you in ways that are unbearable from time to time, and that explanation works perfectly within his narrative. You shake his hand, thank him, and make your exit. It’s only once you’re in the corridor that you realize your heart has been hammering this entire time. Thankfully, he hasn’t said anything about it, and if he chalked it up on the chemsurge, all the better. By the time you make it to the entrance of the building, you’re practically running. Dren finds you a few minutes later, his grin smug and unapologetic.

"Found everything you were looking for?" He asks nonchalantly.

"You’re one crazy bastard, you know that?" You hiss, your voice low to avoid drawing attention, but your words are pointed.

"I’ll take that as a yes." He relishes in your weak reprimand, brushing imaginary dust off his sleeves.

"What if you actually choked?" You snap, though you can’t help the exasperated laugh that slips out.

"Then you would’ve had even more time alone in that room."

You shake your head, rolling your eyes. “You’re impossible.”

“And you’re welcome,” he shoots back, elbowing you gently. 

“Thank you.” You mumble, the corner of my mouth twitching into a smile. “But you’re still crazy.”

“Crazy gets results. Don’t forget it.” You follow him outside, enjoying the last rays provided by the bright sunset. Dren’s grin softens slightly as he meets your eyes. “Get some rest,” he says, the teasing edge in his voice giving way to something gentler. “You’ll need it for tomorrow…I hear someone is getting promoted.” You stop in your tracks, realising you completely forgot to tell one of your closest friends about that super important event in your life.

"Shit…I wanted to tell you, I just—"

"Hey, you’ve got a lot on your plate, it’s okay. Just make sure to acknowledge me during your speech eh." You laugh it off together, and he walks you back to Mid Town. You part ways with a hug, and he keeps an eye out until you’re fully out of sight. 

After tending to your mom and settling her to bed, you sit at the kitchen table and pull the stolen file from your bag. For a long moment you just stare at it, your finger running over the edges of the folder with hesitation. It does feel like you’re intruding a little bit, but you figure that you don’t have the luxury to pass up on any information. Besides, Silco didn’t say anything about not nosing around, and he’s not stupid, you would’ve peeked with or without his approval. 

You open the folder and smooth out the pages of the post-incident report. Hansen was right about one thing, it is a handful. The first image stops you cold. It’s a close-up of Jinx’s arm, where you can see the burns stretch across her skin in jagged, angry lines, deep enough to leave raw tissue exposed. The note reads Severe third-degree burns over 15% of the body. Shrapnel lodged in the left thigh and abdominal region… The list goes on, each word more cutting than the last and your guts twist a little more as you look at the other pictures. One shows a profile shot of her face, swollen and bruised, her long blue hair matted with blood. The burns curve up her neck and onto her jawline, leaving patches of discoloured, warped skin. 

You read through more of the clinical and impersonal language describing wounds that honestly should have been fatal to the girl. Hextech certainly has reached a whole new level in terms of medical research. The next section is full of diagrams, showing the extent of the damage and the subsequent surgeries required to stabilize her. Every note is written with an almost robotic detachment, but you feel every word very strongly. You pause as your eyes linger on the next bit. Explosion caused by an improvised device. Self-triggered. As you suspected, the bomb that put an end to the fight was hers, but the report basically confirms that Jinx was ready to blow herself up. For what? The cause? To prevent herself from being arrested? Your memories from that night are not as clear as they once were, but the Firelight leader was clearly not ready to finish her off. They could have walked away, both of them. You shake your head lightly. The girl doesn’t look a day over seventeen, and yet, there she was, ready to give up everything in one violent, final act. The thought of having nothing left to lose so soon in life, of reaching a point where destruction is the only answer, it makes your stomach churn.

You push the file away, and lean back in your chair. A part of you is relieved to have something solid to show Silco the next time you meet, but you can’t help fearing how he will react to those pages. If he truly cares for the girl—and you genuinely think he does—this will infuriate him beyond measure. And if he chooses to channel that fury into actions, the outcome would be catastrophic, for everyone.

Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed this chapter. Let me know if you would like to be added to the taglist!

Taglist: @nerds4life246 @policedeer @burgerwolf74

Chapter 1 ⎜ Chapter 2 ⎜ Chapter 3 ⎜ Chapter 4 ⎜ Chapter 5

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EMMRICH VOLKARIN in DRAGON AGE: THE VEILGUARD.

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Fins and Fangs 🦇🐟

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I have nothing to say for myself tbh

Also i remembered the tags: @ihopeinevergetsoberr @thehistoriangirl @juniper-sunny @silcoitus

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LISTEN. Ambessa could've solved the situation. She is the Twink Hunter 3000, she could've confused Silco enough to save him from himself

Although, now that I think about it, Silco is a bit too old for Ambessa :(

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Eye of the Storm - Chapter 4

Pairing: Silco x Reader Rating: Explicit Warnings/Tags: graphic depiction of violence; slow burn; enemies to lovers, enforcer!reader Word count: 3.5k

Summary: After a chain of unexpected events, Jinx is arrested, and you find yourself in possession of the gemstone. On top of it all, you are forced into a reluctant alliance with Silco. What else could possibly go wrong?

Read on ao3 ⎜ Previous chapter ⎜Next chapter

The ride to the factory was unusually quiet, not that Silco has ever been the talkative kind. But not even a word, even for him, that’s not a good sign.

He has little doubt about the identity of the people responsible for the raid, and while he is happy to spare himself the investigative work, the fact that Piltover may be fully involved leaves him perplexed. Sevika is right: it’s been years since topside made such a bold move against the undercity. He is accustomed to the Council interfering with his operations through insidious means—voting in policies designed to stifle his trade or quietly destabilising the political landscape. But this is different, it’s an open aggression, on his territory. While Silco has never shied away from the idea of an open war between the two cities, he hadn’t thought it would happen so suddenly. That is the second time that he finds himself surprised this evening, and that is a problem. Things are moving too fast for his liking, his associates grow more incompetent and unreliable every day, and topside decides this is a good time to strike at the heart of his empire. His days are numbered, he knows it, and it doesn’t help to be surrounded by greedy snakes. 

Glass debris crack under his shoes as he walks amongst the rubble alongside Sevika. Carcasses of chem-guards are lying around, smashed to bits. From the look of it, the enforcers called to the scene went out of their way to render them permanently inoperable in the future, which makes Silco wonder. Those war machines were specifically designed to fight topside, they should not have been taken down so easily. And that’s the kicker, they hadn’t just been defeated, they’d been utterly crushed. Whatever was deployed against his prototypes tonight it was not standard weaponry, but something far more advanced, powered by a powerful technology. A technology like Hextech. The issue is, Piltover—and Jayce Talis specifically—had been clear on the fact that Hextech was not to be used for warfare. While Silco is always cautious about trusting Piltover’s assurances, this would constitute a direct violation of the current standing laws. The city is certainly not above committing state-sanctioned crimes, but it would have required an announcement—or at the very least an emergency Council vote— both of which Silco would undoubtedly have caught wind of. Something is off about this, and he has to find out what. Sooner rather than later. 

"That lady enforcer wasn’t kidding. They’re planning something up there." Sevika says as she follows him closely. She can see the unrest in his posture, how tense he is under that big coat of his.

"Find out everything you can about her. Her background, where she lives, who she talks to. And make sure she knows we’re watching."

"Do you think she knew about this?" Silco doesn’t respond for a time. Lying to his face would be a dangerous mistake on your part, and a death sentence. Part of him has long since learnt not to trust anyone, but there was something about the way you pleaded your case—your desperation, your distress—that felt genuine. Like someone backed into a corner, clinging to their last, fragile hope. Then again, his instincts are not reliable these days. 

Silco traces a gloved hand along the jagged edges of the Shimmer containers. The glass , which his engineers swore was practically indestructible, is also shattered to pieces. Drops of the purple liquid still leak from the wreckage, pooling at his feet. This mess is going to cost him. A lot. He counted about eight chem-guards on the ground, on his way in, and there’s probably more on the top floors, not to mention that all the workers of the factory were taken into custody, even the children. The more he thinks about it, the more he is convinced that this was no random attack. No, this is personal. 

"I don’t know yet." He says, and that fact visibly frustrates him. That was the convenient part of having Marcus at his service. At this time, Silco would have had him dragged to his office for a solid explanation— along with an apology, just for the fun of it— and the problem would have been sorted before tomorrow. Actually, Marcus probably would have prevented this from happening in the first place. Under his jurisdiction, enforcers stayed out of Silco’s business. That’s what he was paid for. And up until his death, he’d done a fairly good job of it. The few times he brought the cavalry, it was at Silco’s request, like after an attack from the Firelights. But now, Silco doesn’t have a trustworthy mole in the enforcer ranks anymore. And it’s not like you qualify as a replacement. Not yet anyway. Everyone has a price, but truthfully, money isn’t the issue. There can always be a highest bidder, and that’s not a risk Silco is willing to take. The reason the late Sheriff was reliable was because he had too much to lose by betraying him. The amount of dirt he had accumulated on Marcus was astronomical. He kept paying him purely out of business courtesy, but he really didn’t have to. Unfortunately, digging that dirt is a long and meticulous process, one that he doesn’t have time for at the moment. Nevertheless, the more he knows about you, the better, and whatever Sevika manages to find will benefit him one way or the other.

At the centre of the large room, Renni kneels at her son’s side, holding his bloodied face between trembling palms. Lost in her grief and fury, she whispers into his ear the promise of vengeance against those who murdered him. Finn stands nearby, flicking his lighter open and shut in a way that’s really starting to grate on Sevika’s nerves. His greenish, reptilian eyes track the scene, following the pair as they observe the damage. He looks positively unbothered and serene with his flashy coat over his shoulders, and the Slickjaws’ signature mask adorning the lower part of his face, all polished and golden. But in truth, the man’s confidence has taken a few blows recently. 

First there was this humiliation at the last assembly, where he managed to make a complete fool of himself in front of the other chem-barons. The image of Silco hovering above him, taunting him with a gas mask as he choked on the Grey is not going away any time soon. It makes him sick to his stomach. And now, there’s this embarrassing security breach, for which he is responsible for. Finn and his crew are the appointed attack dogs of the undercity—scare tactics, blackmail, extortion, ensuring safety and control in strategic places. You name it, that’s his area of expertise. And this mishap won’t go unnoticed. 

Renni calls out Silco, blames what occurred here on his carelessness, and demands answers regarding his plans to fix the situation. And then proceeds to throw a jab at Jinx. Silco takes a breather, he knows it’s the grief talking, but nonetheless he answers her reprimands with barely disguised contempt, and he doesn’t particularly care how insensitive it is. As he looks down towards the little boy, for briefest moment, he sees a vision of Jinx, her frail body laying on that damned bridge after the explosion, burnt and bruised. He thinks about how much he wanted to hold her then, cradle her in his arms like he has done so many times before. He should have ran to her then, never mind the pack of enforcers standing between them. It’s out of his hands now, and he loathes it. He throws one last look at the boy and takes his leave.

Your hands are trembling, too heavy, you can’t bring yourself to move them. The sound comes next, so loud it leaves nothing behind but silence. And then the fall. A body crumples, limp and lifeless, hitting the ground with a dull, sickening thud. The noise sinks into your bones, repeating over and over like it will never stop.

The first thing you notice as you wake up is that you’re having trouble breathing. But it’s not the dream, and the air doesn’t feel worse than usual. You place your palm against the front of your neck and curse. Dammit. Your chem-surge. You were supposed to get new Shimmer doses yesterday. Well, to be fair, your schedule has been slightly disrupted due to recent events, and it’s not like the market is ever closed. Might as well do it now, and then you can directly drop by your mom’s to give her her injection. You equip yourself with a solid pair of boots, essential when heading down to the sump levels, and tuck a decent amount of cash into a paper bag. 

Shimmer is not cheap, at least not in the way you buy it. Most of what’s sold in the lower levels is raw, unrefined, if you will, and incredibly potent. One injection is all it takes to turn a user into an addict. That’s why it’s the most popular product here, and also, it’s the cheapest kind of Shimmer available on the market. People down here don’t have the luxury of choice—it’s either that, or low-grade chemtech. Both options wreak irreparable damage on the body over time. 

The wealthier people of the Undercity—and there aren’t many of them—can afford balanced versions of those products. Much safer to consume, it’s basically what was promised to fissure folks from the beginning: a proper medicine. Not a drug, but something to help the undercity’s denizens against most respiratory diseases. Unfortunately, this variant was never widely commercialised, which made you realise that safe consumption of the product had never been the priority, it was always about the money. As a result, balanced Shimmer is available only for a select few. For a price. A price you can barely afford. Almost the entirety of your pay is spent on Shimmer, whatever is left goes to food. It’s not a great life, but the alternative was out of the question. You’d seen too many of your friends die because of that poison, saw them turn into beings closer to animals than humans. Not a path you would have chosen for yourself or your mother. 

Your throat burns as you get deeper down the lower levels, you haven’t been this careless in a while. In Piltover, you reckon you could manage without your chem-surge for a few hours. But here, well, you hope you won’t have to find out the hard way. Better get this done quickly. And there’s your seller, tall frame leaning against the wall, slim as a wisp. It’s a good thing the wind doesn’t reach these streets because the poor bastard would be toppled over. Alastair is not the type to sit idly behind a counter, waiting for a sale. He roams the alleys, striding on his long legs, always looking for his next client. Because that’s the issue down here: they die quickly, or simply disappear. His hollow eyes widen at the sight of you.

"Oh, if it isn’t my favourite customer," he drawls, straightening himself. “Come for your usual, love?” You roll your eyes but keep stepping closer.

"No, I’m just here to see you, handsome." You say as you lean in next to him and offer him an exaggerated smile. Suddenly very interested, he starts slicking his greasy hair back and licking his cracked lips. Oh, Janna…

"My vials, Alastair." You say in a much drier tone, crushing all his hopes. 

"Right." He mumbles, disappearing behind the fumes and into a building. 

Around you, empty vials of Shimmer lay on the ground. As far as you know, you’re the only client who buys the tampered variant from him. Typically, people would get it on the upper levels, in the Lanes and perhaps even the Alcove district. But it’s even more pricey there. What you have going on with Alastair is a good deal for both of you. He gets to make more than ten times his usual turnover whenever you buy from him, and you get the best product for the lowest price on the market. Admittedly it’s still outrageously high, but you don’t have a choice.

Further up the street, a man with rags for clothes is crawling on all fours, picking up every vial he can find. He inspects them thoroughly, searching for any residue. Occasionally, he sniffs and licks the inside to catch a forgotten drop, or anything remaining, really. Most of the skin around his mouth is eaten away, leaving what is left of his teeth permanently visible. His skin is so pale and thin it looks as though the bones could pierce through at any moment. Funny, how something can either save you, or kill you in the most horrific way—slowly, corrupting your nerves, your blood, substituting itself for your very life, and sucking it all out. That’s Shimmer for you. 

Alastair emerges with your goods in hand, with the face of someone who knows they’re gonna make a pretty buck today. He hands you the vials one by one.

"Much obliged." You thank him as you shove your new purchase into a bag that you close securely. Walking around with Shimmer in the lower Fissures is a dangerous thing to do, and you’re not about to let your savings go to waste out of carelessness. You give him the paper bag and wait patiently as he counts. It’s taking longer than usual, and when you look up at him you can tell that he isn’t satisfied. You wait for him to explain himself. He scratches his head.

"I’m afraid you’re short 500 cogs." About a quarter of what you just paid. You stare at him with a frown, anger and disbelief rising inside.

"Excuse me?" Alastair shrugs in a way that makes you want to slap the insolence out of him. 

"Well, I’m sure you’ve noticed that the blockade has been hard on all of us. It’s just business, darling, I’m sure you understa—" In a flash, your hand shoots out and grips the collar of his shirt, yanking him forward until your faces are inches apart. Alastair yelps, his bony fingers clutching at yours.

“Tell me something, Alastair,” you say, your voice disturbingly calm but razor-sharp. "You wouldn’t want a bunch of enforcers poking around your business now, would you?" Alastair blinks rapidly, his earlier bravado crumbling as he shakes his head vigorously. 

“Of course not. Now, I paid what I owe, and I will be leaving with what I came for. Is that clear?” He nods rapidly, the fear in his eyes evident. You’re gonna need a bit more than that. You raise your voice just slightly to make sure the point gets across.

"Words, Alistair." He swallows with difficulty, and the confirmation comes out dry and painful.

"Y-yes." You hold him there a while longer for good measure before letting him go with a shove.

"Good man." You say, and he stumbles back against the wall, smoothing his shirt with trembling hands. “Pleasure doing business with you.” Without so much as a glance, you stride back the way you came from. In the back of your mind, you know this was probably not the right move. The last thing you want to be in the undercity is indebted, and you’ve made yourself just that. Alastair may not care, but his boss undoubtedly will. It’s too late now. Whatever problems arise from this, you will deal with it later. But for now, you need that Shimmer in your system. 

By the time you finally reach your mom’s house, you’re practically coughing your lungs out. You barge inside, bracing one hand against the wall as you kick off your boots unceremoniously, rushing straight to the bathroom. You take off your top and try to calm your breathing as much as possible. Better to have steady hands when manipulating the chem-surge.

Watching your reflection in the mirror to guide your movements, you unscrew the bolts on the glass panel covering your chest. You lift it up slightly to unplug the empty vial inside, throw it away before quickly replacing it with a fresh one.

"You alright in there?" Your mom asks from behind the door, an unusual hint of concern in her voice.

"I’ll just be a minute."

The vial clicks into place with a soft pop, and instantly, the purple liquid begins flowing through the tubes beneath the glass, like liquid amethyst—rich and luminous. You’ve always found it quite beautiful, the way it snakes its way through, almost hypnotic, rippling and twisting as if it were alive. Such a double-edged gift, Shimmer. Lethal if mishandled, but for you, it’s salvation. For all the bad the it’s done in the undercity the engineer behind this invention must have had life in mind when they concocted it. They must have—there’s no other way. What a waste. 

The effects are immediate, like a shot of adrenaline right through your heart. A long sigh escapes your lips as proper air finally fills your lungs. That was a much closer call than you intended, and you vow not to let it happen again. Now that you can think clearly, priorities shift in your brain—you need a drink. But first things first, you help your mom with her injection, grab something to eat from the kitchen counter, and you’re on your way again.

There’s a message waiting for you at your preferred scrap workshop. You retrieve it from the pneumatic tube and head towards Laurelle’s. You and her go way back. When her folks owned the place, your family used to visit frequently after working the mines. When Laurelle’s parents retired, they handed her the keys to the bar, and so she is now the proud owner of the Nook. It’s a very small and low key establishment, nothing like the Last Drop, which is why you like it so much. The moment you walk in, she spots you from behind the counter. 

"My my, aren’t you a sight for sore eyes." She exclaims, pulling out a glass for you. "What can I get you?" 

"Pitfire Punch." You say proudly, and Laurels’ eyebrows shoot up in surprise. You usually go for soft drinks. 

"What are we celebrating?" She asks enthusiastically. You check the seal on the letter you just retrieved just to be sure. Yep, Council sigil. No doubt now.

"My promotion, I recon." You say, dangling the paper above your head.

"Ah! I know your mom must be delighted." Laurelle scoffs, sliding your drink across the table.

"Haven’t told her yet. Thanks."

"How about this, just leave the letter on the hall counter and say nothing. Just wait and see."

"I’ve done her enough harm as it is, I think." You say ironically, but as always, Laurelle comes out to slap you on the wrist.

"Hey, you’re doing the best you can, just like the rest of us. Working the mines wasn’t going to pay for your treatment, or hers. Or any other job down here, for that matter. People can say what they want, but I know where your heart is, girl, despite that uniform. You don’t have to apologise for shit."

You lift your glass in thanks and drink it swiftly. Laurelle has always been gracious about your life choices. She supported you when you started your training, offered you a home while you were shopping for your own, and she never fails to cheer you up when you’re in doubt. A true friend without whom you would certainly have given up long ago. You owe her your life, in more ways than one. 

"Who’s your date?" You tilt your head questioningly, and Laurelle discreetly points somewhere behind you. "That absolute unit of a woman hasn’t taken her eyes off you ever since she walked in." You shift on your stool slowly and curse under your breath. Sevika sits at a lonely table, taking a long drag off her cigarette, her eyes fixed on you. She doesn’t seem alarmed that you have spotted her; quite the contrary, in fact.  

"Want me to send her away?" Laurelle asks, looking about ready to literally kick her ass out through the front door. You quickly put a hand over hers.

"No I—she’s good." Laurelle gawks at you, shrugs, and goes back to drying her glasses and bottles. 

You wonder how long Sevika’s been tailing you, if she already knows where you live, if she followed you all the way down to the Fissures. Not that she wouldn’t have figured it all out eventually, but damn, Silco sure doesn’t waste any time. The fact that Laurelle was able to clock her so easily is no coincidence. Sevika’s not in plain sight, but she’s not exactly hiding either—a gentle reminder that you still have to honour your end of the bargain. 

Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed this chapter. Let me know if you would like to be added to the taglist!

Taglist: @nerds4life246 @policedeer @burgerwolf74

Chapter 1 ⎜ Chapter 2 ⎜ Chapter 3 ⎜ Chapter 4 ⎜ Chapter 5

[dustysalmon]

[dustysalmon]

The BedRocks, new album drops this December.

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