#arcane reader insert

you hold down the backspace key with a grumble.

you should be working on this report, especially since the deadline is approaching- but your mind and body don’t seem to be on the same page today.

your mind is screaming that you need to get this done before your professors dock points for turning in a paper late. 

your body is captivated by the way vi’s been lifting weights across the room. her little home gym is full of equipment that’ll get her through the day- if she wants to bulk, she’ll venture out to do so. today, she wants to be with you.

she told you to just ignore her. do what you need to do, and she’ll do the same thing.

it’s a little difficult, though, when she’s grunting through her teeth while doing her bulgarian squats. when sweat is dripping down her forehead and abs as she does twists, curl-ups, and pull-ups. trying to keep your eyes on your screen proves useless as they’re drawn back to your girlfriend, and the noises she makes send heat straight to your core.

gods, she’s only working out, and you’re soaking.

you clear your throat and try to type another sentence, pausing between each word like that’ll help you collect yourself. it doesn’t.

vi is in the middle of a set of shoulder presses when she notices the crease between your brows and the way you bite down on your lip.

“hey, baby,” she says, panting slightly. “everything okay?”

you nod quickly, too quickly. like it’s practiced. you’re absolutely not staring at the way pieces of her bangs stick to the sheen of sweat covering her forehead, or the way her black sports bra is starting to ride up the slightest bit.

“yeah- yeah, everything’s fine. keep going, don’t mind me.”

vi’s lips tug upward in a little smile, her eyes soft as they always are. gods, does it make your heart hurt. she tilts her head as she approaches you, then glances at your laptop screen to see your document completely blank.

“you sure? you don’t seem fine.”

you take a deep breath in, in an attempt to steel yourself. you nod again, lips pressed into a thin line. it’s much harder trying to fool your girlfriend when she’s standing right before you, and when you can’t hide the way your thighs press together- desperate for some kind of friction. the second vi’s eyes land on your lower half, everything clicks.

and she laughs.

if your face wasn’t burning before, it absolutely is now. 

vi walks back over to her workout bench, sitting down and leaning against the reclined back rest. one side of her mouth quirks up in a lazy smile as she beckons you closer with her hand.

“well?”

you need to get this paper done. you need to get yourself under control so you can work and have it submitted on time, your grade is depending on this-

and still, you slam your laptop shut and skitter over to the woman, swinging one of your legs over her lap and looking up at her like a desperate puppy. the second your core makes contact with the meat of vi’s thigh, even through the thin fabric of your shorts, you gasp.

“i’m sorry,” you murmur. “i- you’re working out-”

vi shakes her head, placing her calloused hands on your waist. one gently rubs the smooth curve over your top, while you shift on top of her. you want this so badly, yet you feel ashamed for it. she leans forward to place a sweet kiss to your cheek.

“don’t be sorry,” she whispers, voice soft and sweet as it always is. if you weren’t so worked up, it could make you cry. “take what you need. ‘m right here.”

a low whine escapes you as your thumbs hook into your shorts, shimmying them off and tossing them to some far corner of the room. you don’t even notice the damp patch soaking through your panties, or vi’s eyes widening when they land between your legs. 

“you really are desperate, huh?”

“yeah,” you breathe out, crawling forward a little to hover over her abs- and the second you lower yourself, you gasp. just the friction of her hard abs underneath of you is enough to send your head spinning. “vi, please..”

her smirk returns. vi’s hands move down to settle on your hips, and she gently shifts you forward.

your hips grind against her once, then twice. a quiet, high moan escapes you.

“oh.. gods, that’s..”

“mhm, that’s it,” she murmurs. “keep going.”

you start to move on your own volition, hips going forward then backward, your clothed clit catching each ridge of her abs. firm and hard underneath you, while vi looks at you through half-lidded eyes. you let out low whines, feeling the heat between your thighs grow more intense with each passing second.

those sweet, defined ridges underneath you, marked with a fuschia happy trail that vi knows drives you wild, make the room feel like it’s spinning around you. your hands shakily come to grab at her shoulders, seeking some kind of stability while you hump her midriff, your heartbeat picking up.

through the haze of your pleasure, you can vaguely see vi’s eyes locked on your expression, on the little trail of slick you’re undoubtedly leaving behind on her. it’s hard to tell where her sweat starts and where your arousal begins- but does it matter?

her pupils are dilating, her calloused fingertips digging into the plush of your hips. her jaw has gone slack at the mere sight of you. desperate and debauched, fucking yourself on her- it’s not long before vi is grinning again. she flexes her abs underneath you, bumping against your clit and sending your head forward.

“ungh- vi! fuck! fuckfuckfuck-” 

“yeah?” she breathes out. hands trail from your waist to your ass, squeezing and pushing you down harder. “that feel good, honey?”

“yes,” you cry. “mm- mhm, feels so good..”

you’re hardly forming coherent thoughts at this point. it’s a wonder you’re even able to respond to your girlfriend, when it feels like your head is stuffed with cotton and every nerve ending in your body has been set ablaze. your back arches, your eyes stay fixed on her flushed, grinning face. 

with each grind, each catch of your clit against those perfect abs, you feel that familiar knot forming in your lower stomach. growing tighter with every second while your moans grow more debauched, an endless string of ‘please’ falling from your lips. you’re not sure what you’re begging for at this point- but does it matter?

your panties are absolutely destroyed- your clothed pussy making filthy sloshing noises against vi’s skin. she groans as you grow more and more soaked, like this is new. no, vi knows just how desperate you are for her at all times. how the smallest thing can get you worked up and pleading for her to stuff you with her fingers or fuck you on her strap. but this is new.

she can tell with how short your breaths are coming and how your moans are quickly getting louder that you’re close. vi’s hand comes down on your ass just once, making you squeal and gush onto her.

“come on,” she encourages. “soaking me like some slut, huh? that’s okay. love it. love you.”

“love you too, fuck-”

your words dissolve into a high whimper as your hips stutter against her. you’re right there, teetering on that edge. your body near collapses on top of vi’s, and she peppers sweet kisses anywhere she can reach. her lips brush your forehead, your jawline, then land on your neck and start suckling.

when her teeth scrape the skin of your neck, your back arches impossibly, and your vision goes white as you tip over the edge.

“vi! vi- please, baby, aaah-” you don’t stop grinding, your pace only grows more frantic. lewd cries spill from your lips as you gush onto her abs, your ears ringing from the sheer shock of it all. it’s overwhelming in the best possible way. vi catches your moans with her lips, her tongue slipping into your mouth both like she’s afraid to break you and like she wants to devour you.

“there you go, pretty girl,” she grunts, lips clashing with yours once again. you try to reciprocate, but only manage to meet her halfway. “you feelin’ better? hm?”

“yes,” you nod quicker than you can think. your hips slow to a gradual, winding halt as you come down from your high. “thank you, thank you..”

vi giggles once again, and brushes a soft kiss to the underside of your jaw. she places a little peck over the marks she’s left, almost like a silent apology, before taking you into her arms and guiding your head to the crook of her neck. one of her hands slips under the hem of your shirt to stroke up and down the ridges of your spine in slow motions.

“no need to thank me. always happy to help you.”

“mm..”

“maybe you can focus on that report now, huh?”

you groan against her neck and lightly pinch her side, to which vi lets out a bark of a laugh. she presses a firm kiss into your hair, squeezing you tight for a moment. the fucked-out expression on your face makes her soft, just as much as the sweet tone of your voice. 

you might be insatiable at times, but vi wouldn’t want you any other way.

How was it possible to want someone this much? Maybe he’s experienced something like this before, in tiny amounts, for people he hasn’t thought about in years. Deep down, he knows that even if he added all of those fleeting romances together, it would still only be a fraction of what he feels now. For you.

He can’t pinpoint that exact moment in time when everything changed. There were definitely a few of those moments that stood out more than others, but none of those instances were the catalyst for whatever this is. But they certainly don’t help his case.

A few words of encouragement.

A book recommendation.

A smile— so soft, so intimate, he briefly allows himself to believe that it was meant just for him. Something precious for him to keep, to be his and his alone.

In the dim light of the lab, he finds you asleep on your desk. The humming glow of the hex crystals leaves you blanketed in a gentle blue. He’s heard tales of this before, from when he bothered to listen to such things. It would happen just like this, they said: his heart would beat so fast, it threatened to leave his chest entirely. His skin would burn with something unmistakable, a feeling that left one in a state of simultaneous confusion and clarity.

He feels it all now and he finds it polarizing. It’s too much and not enough. He chases and runs away from it at the same time. A part of him wants it to stop, to go away and leave him forever for the sake of ending this game he’s painfully losing… but a greater part of him hopes that it will grow and grow to the point where maybe you’ll notice and do something about it. His palms get a little sweaty just thinking about making the first move. Symptoms of a lovesick fool.

The soft sound of your breathing quiets the pounding of his heart, prevents the wretched feelings from overflowing and spilling everywhere. Even if it was just for tonight. Tonight, he keeps his lips sealed, fights to keep himself from reaching for you. It would be unbecoming of him.

His eyes land on you again, observing how your head rested on your arms. Understanding hits him then, why you’re so bothered by seeing him stay at the lab so late that he ends up falling asleep. That position couldn’t have been comfortable. Of course, he knew that from experience, but it’s your comfort he’s thinking about right now. He wonders if this is what you felt whenever you woke him up and implored him to go home.

Surely not.

No, he can’t wrap his head around you possibly viewing that act the same way he does. Not when he wants to bottle this moment, wants to capture the preciousness of seeing you like this. It just can’t be the same.

So can you really blame him if when he finally rests a hand on your shoulder to wake you gently, he lets it linger there for just a little longer? An infinitesimal piece of time that he claims for himself. He never thought himself to be the sentimental type, but he cherishes it all: he cherishes the way you blink slowly as you returned to the waking world, and your tired murmur of his name that makes his chest tighten.

It’s just a wisp of a moment, never really tangible enough for him to hold in his hands, but he cherishes it all the same. It’s burned in his memory, in his very being, the same way everything else about you is. Every piece of you that you so generously gifted him.

“You should go home, darling.”

The word slips past his lips before he could even think about it. But he allows himself this one indulgence. He can’t help it. He’s always been a bit greedy.

“What time is it?” you ask.

“Far too late for you to be here,” he answers.

You huff out a breath of a laugh, “That’s rich coming from you.”

He finds himself smiling. How does someone manage to be so endlessly endearing without even trying?

It takes an embarrassing amount of effort for him to pull back his hand from your shoulder. Had you been more awake and had the room been brighter, he might’ve schooled his expression into something more neutral. Something to hide the unbridled adoration in his eyes. He doesn’t do that now. With the shield of darkness to protect him, he lets the mask come off. He lets his affection for you wash over him in waves. It would’ve been liberating, if it wasn’t for the tiny detail that that affection was unrequited.

Still, he says your name with utmost care. “You must go home and rest.”

To his surprise, you listen. You mumble a tired "okay” and gather your belongings, slipping on your coat. “You should go home, too, Vik.”

“I will. Soon. I just need to finish a few things.”

Your face twists into a frown, “No, you’ll do that tomorrow.” Before he can interject, you speak up again, “Just… come with me? It’s late and I don’t want to walk home alone.”

His brain refuses to reconcile with what his eyes see: the trepidation written all over your features, the way you clutch the lapel of your coat just a little tighter. He knows it’s a trap, you just want to get him out of the lab but how could he possibly reject the promise of a few more minutes with you? The chance to pretend, even if it’s just for those precious few minutes, that he was taking you home as someone more than a colleague? More than a friend? Only a fool would say no to you. Or perhaps he was a fool either way. He really must be going insane.

He says yes almost instantly.

It’s cold in Piltover tonight. It makes his bad leg ache more than it already does, and so his strides are a bit more careful. He doesn’t say anything about how you also slow down to match his pace but he appreciates your considerate gesture nonetheless.

The moon hangs in the sky big and bright, making everything around you seem softer. It’s picturesque. Almost romantic. He tries his best not to entertain that thought for much longer. Instead, he focuses on what you say to him so he could ignore the traitorous thoughts his mind conjures up and the way his knees were protesting because of the cold.

Conversation with you is easy— terrifyingly so. It was one of the first things he noticed about you when you first met.

Early on in the process of finding sponsors and securing funding, him and Jayce quickly realized that they needed help. Yes, Jayce is a friend of the Kiramman family. Yes, Viktor is Heimerdinger’s protégé, but they’re academics. At the end of the day, Jayce’s warm personality could only do so much when he was still greatly inexperienced with navigating these more political spaces and for all of his experience and perceptiveness, Viktor knows he’s no good at sweet-talking sponsors, either.

Enter, you.

Caitlyn Kiramman was the one to recommend you, her former tutor. Jayce was quick to back her up, remembering that you were also Academy alumni; a particularly strategic businesswoman. Viktor was hesitant at first, knowing that a third party could complicate things. Hextech was born out of the dream to help people. He worried that bringing business and politics (even though he knew it was necessary) into the mix would warp Hextech into something it wasn’t. Jayce convinced him to take a gamble, and it seemed that the potential of Hextech was enough to bring you back to Piltover from your travels across Runeterra.

It took him a while to warm up to you. You weren’t nobility, but most definitely well-off. Even more so after your years as a business consultant to organizations all over the continent. He respected you, sure, but Viktor had a hard time trusting someone who was so… privileged. How could you possibly understand how important it was that Hextech remained a beacon of hope for the less fortunate? Perhaps it was naive of him to think that way, as much as he hated to admit it.

But true to your reputation, you delivered exactly what they needed. You bridged the gap between Viktor and Jayce’s hopes for Hextech and the support they needed from sponsors, protecting them and their inventions from being taken advantage of.

Suffice to say, you earned his admiration.

Never in a million years would Viktor imagine that you would captivate his entire being, too.

It was daunting. Scary, really. Especially now that he’s beginning to understand the full extent of his affections. Years and years of burying that softness from his youth deep beneath the armor of his intellect— all that hard work diminished by a pretty girl. Gods, he really is just a man. Not even that. With you, he feels like a highschooler with a crush. It’s painful. Downright humiliating. But he wouldn’t trade it for anything. Not when you link your arm around his, laughing at something he said. Was he really that funny? Probably not. He’s just happy to make you laugh.

“You don’t have to be nice about it. Salo is a grade-A asshole,” you grinned. “We both know it. If I have to spend another dinner with him present I might actually stab a fork in my eyes.”

He smiles, “Ah, but that wouldn’t save you from his incessant chatter.”

“I’ll stab the fork into my ears too."

“I might just follow after you,” he hums, “you’ll have to check if it works first, though.”

Your friendship blossomed when your visits to the lab became less for work and more for leisure. You wanted to visit, wanted to learn more about what he and Jayce were working on and why. Everything after that was just dominoes. You, with all your fiery passion and sharp wit, have become a permanent fixture in his life and now? He could hardly imagine life without you in it. You're one of his dearest friends and, much to his dismay, that makes his current predicament even more challenging than it already is.

Before he knew it, the two of you were standing in front of your apartment building— one of the most luxurious in Piltover. He could only imagine how much it cost, though he knew for certain that your penthouse probably barely made a dent in your wealth. He’s gotten somewhat used to your differing lifestyles, but he’s never completely able to not marvel at it. A gust of wind kissed his skin once more as he turned to look at you.

“This is me,” you say, gloved hands in your pocket and your lovely, lovely face framed by your hair and ruby red scarf. He recognizes it as the gift he gave you a year ago now. A spur-of-the-moment purchase on one of the rare occasions he was actually outside Academy grounds. He remembers thinking that the color would look nice on you. He was right. He finds himself holding onto the seconds before he has to go. “Thank you for walking me home, Viktor.”

“Of course,” he nods but the calmness of his voice don’t match the way his eyes bore into yours. “It’s only proper.”

“Proper?”

“Yes. Proper. I am a gentleman, after all.”

His accent comes out thicker, emphasizing the words more than he means to.

“I didn’t take you for someone who cared much about propriety,” you tease.

“Is it because I’m from the undercity?” he deadpans and he relishes in the look of horror on your face that replaces your grin.

“What? No!” you exclaim, smacking his arm when you realize he’s just joking. “You. Are. Impossible.”

A laugh bubbles out of his chest, “Oh, that’s cruel. You would hit a defenseless man? How heartless.”

“Shut up. That cane of yours is a weapon of war. Don’t think I haven’t seen you smack Jayce with it.”

“If I hit him with it, he probably deserved it.”

“Poor Jayce,” you laugh as well. “Remind me not to get on your bad side.”

Viktor smiles.

“I do not think you could even if you tried, lásko."

He freezes and so do you. The laughter—the music—that you shared for the briefest of moments was thoroughly snuffed out, leaving you both in a silence that threatens to swallow him whole. He didn’t mean to do that. He didn’t mean to speak so gently, but there is not a part of Viktor that could withhold this sincerity from you. Specks of the truth, of the confession he’s barely managed to wrangle into submission and lock away somewhere dark and unreachable.

He pulls back on instinct. He’s shown too much, said too much. You don’t move. He is petrified.

Your eyes widen and he sees his reflection in them, staring back at him. This is it, he thinks. He’s crossed the line and he’ll have to deal with the crushing blow of your rejection.

You manage to compose yourself and what you say next is… well, unexpected. Your tone is light, clearing the air and allowing him to breathe again.

“Do you say that to every woman or am I a special case? I’d hate to be part of a roster.”

He’s taken aback, but he feels a weight lifted off his shoulders. You are a miracle in his eyes. Washing away his worries with a kind smile and a few choice words. He laughs again and this time, he doesn’t stop himself from speaking the truth. It’s now or never.

“Surely you know by now that you are singular,” he whispers, his accent a pleasant drawl in your ears. He takes a step forward. It is gravity that pulls him in, not the Earth’s, but yours. A force that he can’t help but be drawn to. Not that he would ever dare to resist it now that his fear has shrunk down to something a little less debilitating.

His face is inches from yours. You don’t move. He gets a little braver.

“I do not appreciate your implication that I would pay attention to anyone else,” his voice is low, honest. “As if anyone could compare to you. As if you don’t hold my very being in the palm of your hand. Miláčku, I adore you. Don’t you know that?”

There is a hint of pleading in his tone, begging you to understand the full scope of his feelings from those few words so that he wouldn’t unravel before you, a bundle of nerves and petals the same shade as your scarf.

“Say something. Please,” his fear rears its ugly head once more. “Say the word and we’ll pretend this never happened. I will remain your colleague and nothing more. A friend, if you would allow it.”

“What if I don’t want that?” you ask, your own voice a little shaky with uncertainty. Maybe it was also fear. That, he’s not quite sure.

Viktor doesn’t fully trust what he’s hearing, thinks it to be a figment of his deluded imagination, but his heart is screaming at him now to push forward.

“What is it you want, lásko? Tell me and it shall be yours.”

You're almost breathless when you finally respond, “You. I want you."

The world stills. Time itself screeches to a halt. There is only you and him, together in this moment that he knows will be woven into the threads of his soul. He has never known euphoria quite like this. He can’t name it yet, doesn’t know if this is love. He can only hope that it will be.

When he looks into your eyes again, he does not see his own terrified reflection. He just sees you. And the sheer intensity of your gaze that rivals his own. Have you always looked at him that way? Was he just too blind to see it?

“Do you mean that?” he finds himself asking. He has to— has to make sure that this is real.

You smile again, dainty fingers intertwining with his. It is a gentle smile, a hopeful smile that answers his question before you even open your mouth.

“I do,” your voice is so gentle and yet it squeezes his heart. “I’m yours, Viktor, if you’ll have me.”

He brings your knuckles to his lips, places a reverent kiss on them like you’ve given him the world. In a way, that’s exactly what you did. Maybe his lips were always meant to be on your skin, worshipping you like the goddess you are. It feels too natural for it to mean anything else.

And for the first time in a long time, he allows himself to hope.

You can feel her tits pressing against your back as she holds you close in her lap, both of your naked bodies slick with sweat and arousal. She presses the vibrator more firmly against your aching clit, rubbing it in slow circles to watch you twitch.

A shaky whimper slips past your lips at the feeling, a sound Caitlyn craves each time she has you in a position like this. “There you go.” She murmurs, pressing a tender kiss to your temple. “You like that, don’t you?”

The low buzzing sound fills the stuffy air, the usually pristine sheets crinkling beneath your bodies as your thighs begin to tremble. “Mhmm…” You hum, unable to get a proper word out with the way she forces you to take the pleasure.

She presses a button, causing the intensity of the vibrations to increase. The sudden change has you squirming even more, a breathy gasp tearing from your throat as your thighs instinctively clench together around the toy.

Caitlyn tuts disapprovingly, sliding her free hand from where it was resting on your hip to grip one of your thighs, squeezing roughly as she shoves it back open. “Don’t close them.” She says, a rugged edge to her voice. “Do you want me to stop?”

You shake your head, eyes squeezing shut as tears of overstimulation build up behind your lids.

She sighs, slapping your thigh enough to sting before gripping it again, making you jolt. “Words, sweet girl.”

You cry out softly, hips stuttering against the insistent buzz. “No, please…”

Caitlyn lets out a sound of approval against your ear, rubbing the vibrator in quicker circles against your clit, the slick sounds permeating the air. “Shh, you can take it, sweetheart.” She murmurs. She slides her hand from your thigh, over your trembling belly and breasts, until she’s wrapping her fingers around your throat.

Her grip is strong, a testament to her strength, though she doesn’t cut off your air. She simply just holds on, enjoying the display of clear power she has over you. Your head lulls back against her shoulder with a moan, the pleasure winding up like a tight coil in your gut until it becomes impossible to hold on anymore.

She presses hot, open-mouthed kisses to the soft underside of your jaw, keeping the vibrator in place even as you squirm and shake uncontrollably, your orgasm crashing over you.

“Oh, baby…” She coos, nipping at your jaw lightly. “Does that feel good? You’re cumming so hard.”

You can only gasp and whimper in response, your poor clit throbbing and swollen from the intensity of it all. She lets out a soft chuckle, finally turning off the vibrator and tossing it aside carelessly after a long moment, wrapping her arms around your waist from behind to hold you to her chest.

“My beautiful girl,” She murmurs against your neck, pressing wet kisses there as her hands rub over the smooth expanse of your tummy. “You did so good, so fucking good.” Her voice is slightly muffled against your skin, breath hot and damp.

Jayce has learned far before however long he has spent out of this world that there is one thing to make his brain cooperate, and that still holds true. In spite of every other rule — of the universe, of himself — that has been shattered and cuts into his brain with the aftermath of his resurrection.

He needs a singular point of focus.

And Viktor, Viktor could, should be that. He needs to, he needs to, he needs to. He can’t fail, he won’t, but…

If the world has waited this long for him to be spit out unstrung and wrong, it can wait a moment longer. It can wait until he stumbles down dimly lit streets, it can wait until he trips over himself, heaving, nails digging into the wood of the still familiar door.

He pleads you haven’t changed — but does not expect it to be an answered prayer.

Jayce pounds his weary fist against the door, until it shakes so thoroughly the hinges protest.

The door opens and he is greeted with the curse of his own making pointed at him — all blue lenses raised, gem humming, barrel staring back.

“…Jayce?”

And then it’s your eyes that stare him down instead, and the buzzing, the fractals, the zaps — quiet. Oh, so quiet.

“Oh my god.”

He lets himself stumble into your arms, disgusting and filthy and weary to the marrow of his broken fucking bones.

“Jayce,” you choke out again, arms around his frame, pulling him close, squeezing him so tight it hurts good. A reminder of a constant, a pillar, familiar. You start to sob. He wonders if he’s still capable of reciprocating. His old self, the self you’d loved, would have been bawling. “Oh, Jayce,“ you croak, all of you shaking with the vehemence of your cries. “I thought you were… Jayce, where—? How?”

Familiar fingers thread through his hair the way they used to. Lips to his filthy cheek where they used to fit just right above the stubble of his five o’clock shadow, bottom lip now presses to his thick beard.

“I’m sorry.” Everything else is much too complicated, or too insignificant to put into words. “I-I’m so, so sorry.”

You pull him closer.

“It’s okay.” Your voice ripples down his spine in a soothing wave, every one of his aching muscles sags as if on command, and Jayce goes limp. His knee — the fucked up one — creaks, pops, gives. Forced into it just the way he had been after… after Salo, he kneels, and you kneel with him, brace his weight.

In the quiet of the night, you savor it, savor each other, for a long moment. Jayce swears he can hear the street lamps buzzing when your breath begins to settle, and something about it stings his brain like a needle.

You notice — you must have, because one hand comes up to cradle his face.

“Let’s get you inside,” you tell him, palm sliding from his middle to below his elbow, supporting him on his shaky way up. “I’ll run you a bath, I have some leftovers you’ll love, I still have your tea, Jayce, anything you want. Anything you need.”

And that sounds like everything he could ever want, or need.

But it’s not something he can afford.

“I want… to kiss you, please.” His voice finally comes out as broken as the rest of him feels when he pleads for it, man starved. Something in the edge of his vision pulses, darkens, he has to, he has to.

“Anything you need,” you echo your previous words, and he does need it. Both hands on his cheeks again, cradling him the way they used to when you would smile at him and call him puppy in the warmth of your kitchen on early mornings.

He puts his hands over your own and dreams of it as soft as his mind will let him.

“Come here, puppy.”

Jayce knows patience intimately. An ever present companion throughout his academic journey, as much of a partner as Viktor once was on his job.

And he kills it with the same heavy hands and heart that he will kill Viktor with.

His teeth hurt from how he hurls himself at you, into you, lips smashing like the crackle of lighting, he wants, he wants. He holds you like he wishes he could have before; before the voices and the visions and the pain and the aching fatigue, he kisses you like it’s air. Digs his tongue into your mouth to sample what is the first — and might be the last — taste in a long, awful time. You suck on his tongue and locks it up somewhere in the unfamiliar twists and turns of his altered mind and prays it’ll keep.

You’re the only one who’s waited.

“Come on in,” your voice is breathy when you pull away, the words hit his lips before they reach his ears. He envies how little you know. “It’s okay, it’s all gonna be okay.” Hands on the nape of his neck, he feels small. Not the puny kind, not like prey, but protected. “Oh, Jayce, I’ll take care of you.”

And Jayce Talis can still cry after all.

He clings to your shoulders, a crumbling, pathetic version of the man you once loved, and he sobs, makes an even more unloveable display of himself.

How he pities you for being still so eagerly up to the monstrous task.

"What have you done?" You scream as you blindly lunge towards Jayce, a random weapon tightly clutched in your hands — no doubt discarded by some, now dead, Noxian soldier. You could barely see an inch in front of you due to the surging chaos, but you were sure about Jayce, you would never mistake him, his silhouette, his scent.

It had been months since Jinx's attack on the Counsil. Months since Viktor emerged out of the Hexcore changed, taking you to Zaun with him and leaving Jayce behind. You were a chemist, Viktor's childhood best friend that stuck by him since the very beginning. You and Jayce had a brief, intense, spark. It happened before him and Mel, before it became hard to grasp his attention, being Piltover's golden star and everything. It hurt when you left him, standing at the laboratory, his pleading brown eyes boring holes into yours and Viktor's backs. But Viktor was right, your paths, your visions, had long strayed, being held together only by lasting affection.

In Zaun, at Viktor's — The Herald's — growing community, you acted as a chemist again. Helping the newly cured zaunites, researching to improve their lives as much as possible. You had been specially busy since Vander's arrival, severely mutilated by Viktor's former teacher and in desperate need of help. You were working in your makeshift lab, absent mindedly humming a familiar tune when hell broke loose.

A loud, sharp sound echoed, followed by more crashing sounds and piercing screams. Smoke rose in the air, making it almost impossible to inhale. For a split second you could hear Viktor's voice in your head whispering, "Jayce", you ran as fast as your legs permitted, desperate to locate the origin of the sound, to locate Viktor. When you finally did find them, you wished you hadn't. The starking image of his limp and dead body made your breath hitch, mind speeding so much to make sense of things it made you dizzy. Blood rushed to your ears, making a deafening ringing sound, you rubbed your eyes, squinting to adjust, then you saw another figure, a tall and dark frame.

Jayce looked, different, but your brain had no time to process that information as you grabbed the first weapon you could find thrown on the floor, lunging at him. "What did you do?" "How could you?" "I hate you!" you breathlessly shout, aiming for Jayce's head with your stray weapon, then again, you never were much of a fighter, that was Jayce's job. The last thing you heard before the world went complete black, was his voice, a cry of your name, sounding so broken and lost.

"Sorry for knocking you out like that. I hope your head's not hurting too much." you heard Jayce's soft voice, distant at first as you were regaining consciousness, then close, right at your ears. You slowly woke up, blinking the throbbing pain away you were at last able to recognize your surroundings.

Jayce had brought you to your old laboratory, right at Piltover's heart, where you had last seen him, where you had left him. You were sitting in a chair, your mechanical arm resting on the table beside you, laying alongside dirty, well-worn tools. "I fixed it. Your arm. It looked broken and I-" Jayce blurted out, stopping with a nervous chuckle when you looked at him. "My technique might not be as delicate as Viktor's but it's fixed, working. I promise!". When Viktor's name left Jayce's lips, a haunting image of his corpse flashed in your mind, compelling you to leap forward and forcefully grab Jayce's collar, gripping so tight your knuckles turned white, drained of blood. You were trembling horribly, fueled by an ugly mixture of grief and hatred, your words came out hoarse, stinging like a whip.

"You promise? Ha! You killed him Jayce! You- you just disappear and then when you finally come to us, you go and kill him? What's wrong with you? I don't know you anymore, you've become someone else entirely and I- No!" you were panting, tears angrily threatening to spill "That's too gentle for you, you're a murderer, Jayce, a monster!".

Jayce's mind was racing, spinning with the force of your words and then it finally snapped. "Shut the fuck up!" he tore your hands away from his shirt, holding your wrists and pulling you close, pressed up against his chest. "You have no idea Y/N! You can't possibly begin to understand what I was put through!" "I was in there, while you and Viktor were out here playing house!" "I kept my promise!".

Jayce's eyes were red, frantically shaking looking into your own, in desperate search of something. He was so close, you could feel his heartbeat and his breath fanning your face, his scent was attacking your nostrils mercilessly, engulfing you in his presence. Like this you could almost see the old Jayce inside there, somewhere — untainted, full of promise — the one you fell hard for. All it took was a single look from him. A single, meaningful, glance down to your mouth from his so pretty brown eyes. He was so, so close. Next thing you knew you and Jayce were in each other's arms, kissing so forcefully it almost broke skin. Kissing like your very lives depend on it, like you'll die of asphyxiation if you stop.

Jayce hoisted you up the table, sending tools and papers flying, both of you couldn't care less right now. He positioned himself in between your legs, leaning some of his body weight on you, forcing your back to meet the cold surface beneath. "Jayce!" you breathed out, talking into his mouth, gasping for air and breaking the kiss for a second too long. Your hands, firmly resting on the back of his neck, wandered to the hem of your shirt, fidgeting with it, trying to lose it. Jayce noticed and made quick work of your shirt, hurriedly sliding it over your head and tossing aside to a forgotten corner.

"Don't stop" you huffed against him again, voice dripping with want, you struggled blindly to unbuckle his belt, too busy reciprocating his fervent kisses to bother to look down. "I got you" Jayce urged, going crazy with the way your lips felt on his, even more addicting than he remembers. He reached down, tugging off your pants and underwear in one precise motion. Your senses were completely overwhelmed, all you were able to think, see, hear, smell and feel was Jayce.

You were both pouring everything into this kiss, into this very moment. Bleeding years of bottled up love and regrets into each other's systems. Even still, you harbored feelings for him, and him you. Despite the hurricane of emotions and thoughts swirling inside your head, a small, nagging voice coming from the darkest dephts of your mind, kept quietly chanting "What have you done, Y/N?"

In his timeline, Ekko remembers Silco as a cruel bastard with only room in his heart for his wife and Jinx. He never smiled nor ever had reason to. This Silco had a glint of brightness in eyes, even in the orange mutated one, that he would've never associated with the crime lord. The boy stands there, facing the middle-aged man in front of him as he waves his goblet around, body flowing with movement; no strain evident in his posture.

He's talking, Ekko knows this, they're all speaking to him like they aren't either dead or an enemy. But they aren't--these versions of the people he once knew in his own timeline are different.

His eyes drift briefly to you, teeth bared in a smile he hasn't seen since he was a child. You look like that one day, seemingly ages ago, when you kept and eye on him, Powder, and Violet, just days before the uprising. At that point you hadn't been corrupted by the deaths of your closest friends or your husband's vile need for justice. You had a sort of youth to you, though your hair was twinged with greys like Vander's and Silco's, you were practically wrapped around his slender frame, gesturing wildly.

Life had not just been given to Vander, but to you and Silco as well.

His breath hitches and his head throbs with a sharp pain unlike any other.

Ekko squeezes his eyes shut, the vibrancy of the Anomaly imprinted on the backs of his eyelids. Distantly, he hears Powder's voice, like a song in his ear, with a type of kindness he's almost completely forgotten.

When he snaps back to reality, whatever that now meant, he was sitting at a table, away from the bar, with Powder to his right and Mylo and Claggor across from him. They watch him, expecting him to act normal, like he was meant to be here.

"I think you might actually be going crazy," Powder laughs, the sound like a sweet summer breeze as it drifts by him. Her eyes scan over him worriedly.

Ekko swallows roughly, willing the wave of sickness to pass quicker. "I--I'm fine. I think I'll just grab water or something?" Swiftly he rises from his seat, partially unbalanced. He hates that his clothes are a perfect fit and his shoes are comfortable enough he can wiggle his toes around.

He walks to the bar, the sounds of rowdy laughter and girlish giggles surrounding him. The ease of it all is overwhelming.

"What'll you have, Ekko? Your usual?"

Ekko glances at you, taking you in now that you're within arm's reach. The only sign of age are your laugh lines around the corners of your lips. Gone are the sunken, tired eyes and ghastly paleness of skin caused by the contaminated air of the Undercity. You were healthy; sure there were a few scrapes here and there, but your cheeks were filled out, Ekko noticed.

"U-usual?" He manages to croak out before the silence got too concerning.

Obviously worried, your brows furrow and lips purse. "I'll just get you a water then, huh? You're not acting like yourself." You busy yourself, bringing up a glass from the shelf at your knees.

Silco is on the other side of the bar, talking to strangers with Vander. He barks out a laugh, nothing he's ever heard before, and runs his free hand through his already ruffled hair.

The glass clinks on the wooden table in front of him, snapping him out of his trance.

"Are you sure you're ok, Ekko? You don't look so good..." You place the back of your hand to his forehead, reaching over the bartop. The coolness of your skin brings him relief, but he knows you're not going to find he has a high temperature. Physically, he was mostly fine. Mentally, however, was another story.

He thinks about how most of these people are dead men walking or empty shells of their former selves back where he's from. Ekko can't shake the empty feeling he has in his heart.

This was the way things should have been.

"So how are things with you and Silco?" He asks, ignoring your previous question as you bring your hand back to your side.

Leaning against the bar you inspect him for just a moment longer. The boy picks up his glass and almost drains it in one go, which seems to satisfy you for now.

"Me and Sil?" You glance at him quickly, face burning. "We're married, kid, we bicker and are right pricks to each other...but in the end we love each other more than anything in the world. That's how it goes." You sigh, resting your head in one of your hands thoughtfully. "Why do you ask?"

Ekko fiddles with the collar of his shirt. "He just seems so happy. Despite...everything, y'know?"

Lips tilt down slightly in a solemn frown. "It was hard for him, forgiving, that is. He thought we had to endure bloodshed to assert Zaun's rightful existence; he thought it was the only way to get Piltover to listen." Your eyes glance down to the polished wood holding you up. "It was all he knew. And after the incident...after losing our friends and his eye...it was all just a hard pill to swallow."

Silco's laugh once again echoes through the air. You smile immediately, head perking up at the mere noise of your husband. "I never thought I'd see him smile after what we lost--after Vander's wakeup call." Ekko watches as your eyes grow wet with unshed tears. "But here he is, my Silco, living the life he always dreamt of..."

"And you?" Ekko shifts from side to side, feet shuffling below him.

"What about me?" You ask, willing the tears away, busying yourself with wiping the countertop between the two of you.

"Are you happy as well?"

For a moment, you pause, pondering the weight of his question. Ekko, the boy you've come to treat as your son, the boy you trust your Powder with, looks at you like you're not quite right. His eyes gaze into your soul with an intensity that's hard to decipher.

Little moments from your life flash before your eyes; swaying to music with Silco in your kitchen as dinner cooks on the stovetop, you and Vander venturing into Piltover to get more supplies for the bar, Silco's soft gaze and his warm lips against your skin.

"I never thought I could ever be this happy." You tell him truthfully, voice just slightly above a whisper.

Something breaks in his eyes, in his demeanor, but he nods anyway. Something wasn't right--that much was obvious, but before you're able to pick his brain he leaves you at the bar, almost sprinting back to Powder and his friends. She greets him with a smile but her fingers twitch nervously under the table.

With a huff you attend to the other patrons at the bar, occasionally catching Ekko's eye as you walk around your space. He watches you and Silco work in tandem like husband and wife. Even with Ekko's mind already severely overwhelmed with the world around him, he notices when your fingertips purposefully brush when handing glassware over to the other and the small kisses that accompany some flirtatious or loving remark. His head spins and senses buzz with the overload of what could have been.

He leaves without saying goodbye to you or Silco, thought you do call out to him before he exits, you, wrapped in Silco's arms.

"I don't know how to tell you this--or even if I should tell you this." Ekko sits in front of you, tinkering with his hoverboard. Jinx stands feet away, quietly eavesdropping while glancing over blueprints she probably already knows by heart. "But Jinx said you might wanna know."

With a frown already etched into your face, you raise your eyebrows at him. You hadn't spoken to Ekko in years especially since Vander's betrayal of your husband and Vi's abandonment of Jinx. But with Piltover and Zaun under attack, he requested your presence with the Firelights. You parted ways with your husband's right hand man Sevika, hoping that you would see each other again, but predicting that that simply wasn't realistic.

"Just spit it out, kid." You reply, exhaustion lacing your words. Fatigue had infiltrated deep in your bones; Silco's death had taken a large toll on you--you were the last of you little makeshift family alive, though Vander was dead to you long before his final breath left his body.

You were quite the contrast to you counterpart in the alternate timeline. Ekko knew this before, but the accentuated frown lines and lifelessness that surrounded your very being just hit him full force.

He takes a deep breath, cautious of how you were going to react. "I went to an alternate timeline and Silco was alive there." Ekko forces out in one breath.

You stare blankly at the boy, your mind somehow not registering what he was saying.

"That was my reaction too..." Jinx murmurs, her voices echoing in the vastness of her metal lair.

A wave of vertigo washes over you, submerging you in its depths. It's hard to breathe. But somehow you will yourself to stay calm in present company. Now was not the time to be weak.

"An alternate timeline?" You manage to ask weakly, drawing your arms closer to your chest and uneasily wrap them around your frame.

"Don't even ask me to explain it because I don't think I could," Ekko chuckles humorlessly. "But it was a timeline where Zaun and Piltover were at peace, where you could openly cross the bridge and not worry about what would happen to you. Zaun and Piltover thrived together."

You scoff at the notion, shaking your head in disbelief. "Are you sure this wasn't a dream?"

"No. This was real." Ekko's deep brown eyes gaze into yours, something painful swimming in his irises. He's different from the boy you once knew; he's seen something, dealt with something he had lost--had to leave behind. The seriousness laced in his tone convinces you.

You nod, indicating that he can continue as you pick at your nails. You try to brace yourself for whatever he's about to say, but you can't. There was no way to predict what was going to come out of his mouth. But the thought of Silco being alive somewhere kills you inside; your stomach churns and your heart aches for your one and only.

Ekko only sighs before explaining to you what he saw, occasionally pausing to recollect his thoughts or add another component onto his hoverboard.

He tells you about the Silco that could have been--should have been--yours. How his laughter filled the already boisterous main room of The Last Drop, how when a certain song played he would drop everything just to twirl you around behind the bar. Ekko described the brightness of his once clouded eyes and the genuine smile that was always present on his face. Your love was so palpable wherever the two of you went.

Powder confessed once, he told you, while looking over countless notes and equations late at night, that if she were to ever get married, she would want exactly what you and Silco had.

Ekko has you clinging onto each sentence trying to savor each and every word as if you were on your deathbed. You try to picture him in your mind, the greying tousled hair, healthy figure, and tendency to smile. The images are faint against the darkness of your eyelids, blurry from the passage of time.

"He's happy?" You ask quietly.

Ekko nods.

"And am I--Is she happy?" You ask again, stuttering at the thought that this person was not you. You were not the one sharing these intimate moments with your husband; these were strangers, who you could've been.

Again, Ekko nods silently, eyes cast downwards.

You feel your bottom lip start to tremble and tears fight to escape and fall down your cheeks. The lump in your throat grows bigger.

What could've been had haunted you ever since Vander's attack on Silco. It had loomed over you and your husband and suffocated you after his death. To know it was so much sweeter than you ever could have imagined...

Your breathing is uneven when Ekko finally stops talking; other than your labored breath the room was silent. You attempt to collect your thoughts and your emotions but they keep slipping through the cracks between your fingers.

"I shouldn't have told you..." Ekko mutters, apologetically. Eyes swimming with pity, he lays a comforting paint-stained hand on your shoulder. Behind him, Jinx stares blankly down at her boots.

"No it's ok, kid." You sigh, willing away the waves of tears threatening to spill over. "It was good to hear."

"Really?" He looks at you, unconvinced.

"It's good to know that me and Silco get a happy life, y'know?" Your attempt at a small smile partially works, but Ekko can still see the distraught written so clearly all over your face. "One where we can smile and laugh and live. If it couldn't be here, I'm happy it was at least in another lifetime."

Ekko helps you stand, still concerned for you.

With an uneven sigh you turn away from Ekko and Jinx who watch you intently, projects forgotten on the floor or scattered across a small table.

"I need some air." You tell them, ambling slowly to the exit, hoping for the cool polluted air to swallow you whole.

Fortunately for both the Haven and the struggles of its patients, Silco’s Shimmer sale seemed to have been an isolated incident. The dealers had been pulled from the area and no one had seen them since that fateful night. It didn’t speed the recovery of the people who had been impacted, but it helped reduce the number of people who came in needing help. 

An unexpected downside to Silco’s new, self-imposed business limitations was that he was doing his best to start communicating with you again. 

Every day, you found a letter waiting outside of your door. More often than not, you found a different letter waiting on your desk at the end of the day. You had briefly started avoiding your office, but the envelopes appeared on your pillow. 

No matter how many people you asked, no one admitted to delivering letters for Silco. Clearly, he had someone at the Haven who was willing to do some work on his behalf. The problem was that you had no idea how to figure out who it was. There were more unfamiliar faces in the Haven than familiar ones, these days, and it wasn’t as if you could start turning people away on suspicion that they were working for the head Chem Baron himself. 

You suspected that Silco wanted to meet. It was only a suspicion, since you refused to read any of the letters. You didn’t know who was delivering them, so it wasn’t as if you could send them back to him unopened to make your point. You settled for burning them, leaving enough for whoever was sneaking into your office to see that you had never opened a single envelope.

But at last, the number of patients began to dwindle. Having beaten their Shimmer addictions back for the moment, people left the Haven. Some of them came back to work with other patients or to volunteer on a more permanent basis. That helped, but you were still relieved when the number of patients from the surprise Shimmer release returned to the single digits. 

The day your borrowed doctors left the Haven was the day you finally relaxed. The remainder of the patients were in the final stages of their withdrawal and actively working toward recovery. Things were wrapping up nicely, but there was also the benefit of having fewer people in the Haven who could be delivering Silco’s letters. 

And yes, you did feel bad about counting that as a benefit. 

You stopped by your office that night, tired almost beyond reason. Perhaps that was the reason you were filled with near-rage at the sight of the envelope on your desk. 

You snatched it up from the desk, but your hands refused to obey your commands from there. Instead of flinging it into the fireplace, they ripped it open and pulled the page free. Silco’s angular writing was difficult to read in the shivering light of the fire, but you managed. 

My dearest philanthropist, 

I would say that I have given up all hope of you reading my letters, but I know two things: firstly, that you are insatiably curious. If you were not, I believe our association would not have lasted nearly so long as it has. 

Secondly, and more importantly, you know that I would not reach out idly. Surely you know me well enough by now to suspect that I would make an offer. 

Of course, you would have recognized far earlier than this that I was interested in bargaining with you, but it has been reported to me that you have yet to open a single one of my letters. 

Before I propose any further deals, I will assume you are still upset about your lost opportunity to work for Piltover. Have you not yet realized that I acted as I did as a favor to you? Piltover has never worked toward any ends that did not benefit them directly. It is likely that they would have positioned you as a scapegoat when their task force failed… and it would have. 

In any case, you would have lost your reputation in the Undercity as surely as you believe it has suffered across the river. The recovery of a reputation in Zaun is a far longer and more arduous process than it is in Piltover. 

I find myself rambling in this letter, and I blame you. With no guarantee of when you will finally open one of my messages, I am forced to write from somewhere softer than my mind. Perhaps not my heart, but somewhere nearer its vicinity than I am accustomed. 

Allow me to make my offer before this letter grows still longer: come to The Last Drop. I want to discuss terms with you face-to-face. For my end of the deal, I will vow to keep Shimmer from ever entering the Haven’s neighborhood again. You can decide what you are willing to give in exchange. 

I hope to see you soon, sweetheart.

- Silco 

You stared at the page long after you had finished reading. You didn’t trust Silco’s offer - not in the slightest. But if there was a chance you could keep Shimmer off of the streets permanently, wouldn’t you be far more foolish not to look into it? 

That was what had gotten you into this mess, and the one before it, and the one before that, but what was your alternative? If there was any hope you could help someone, how could you refuse to take the risk? Even if you were the one who would suffer if that hope turned out to be false. 

You didn’t burn the envelope. Not because you were tired, or feeling sentimental. If you were going to show up at The Last Drop, you were going to make sure Silco knew you were coming. Whoever was leaving the envelopes had clearly told him that they were going unread. With any luck, they would report back to him that you had read this one. 

Silco would know what it meant. 

You slept soundly that night, dreams held at bay for the first time in well over a week. The plan had been formulated, and there was nothing left to do until the following day. 

Just after ten the next morning, you left the Haven. Okkan had wanted to come with you, but you had assured him and Fletcher that you were fine. Yi was sleeping after her late guard shift; she would have been much more difficult to convince. 

The Lanes were quiet, as they always were in the morning. In the weak midmorning light, you could almost consider them peaceful. Fortunately, you also weren’t stupid, so you kept your guard up to avoid any enterprising and motivated pickpockets deciding to practice their craft first-thing in the morning. 

The door to The Last Drop was unlocked, and you let yourself in without a fuss. If the unlocked door hadn’t convinced you that Silco knew you were coming, the sight of the main bar would have. 

The mismatched tables and chairs that typically filled the space in front of the bar had been cleared away. Instead, there was a small table draped with a white tablecloth and topped with a small flower arrangement. Chairs sat on either side of the table, angled so that neither had its back to the main door. 

“Good morning,” Silco greeted, walking around the bar. 

He looked incredibly… domestic. His sleeves were rolled up so he could carry a silver tray with a cover on it. You watched dumbly as he set the tray on the table, worried for a moment that it would hold a severed head or something equally horrifying, but he removed the cover to reveal breakfast. 

The plates, both bearing your favorite breakfast - when had he found that out? - were placed in front of either seat, while a smaller dish of pastries ended up beside the flowers. Silco tucked the tray and the cover behind the bar and rejoined you.

“Do not worry,” he told you with a smile. “I remember that you do not trust the food I offer you. You choose your preferred seat and I will gladly sample everything first so you know it is trustworthy.” 

You frowned for a moment, wracking your mind for what he could be talking about. At last, a shadowy memory appeared, one in which you were waiting for your first meeting with Silco. You hadn’t touched the food he had sent out for you. Apparently, he was determined that the same thing wouldn’t happen again. 

You took a seat, watching as Silco sat opposite you. He cut a bite of food, checking to be sure that you were watching him. 

“You don’t need to do that,” you told him quietly. He paused, eyes searching your face intently. “If you were going to kill me, you would just kill me. Poison isn’t really your style.” 

Silco’s smile faded. “I would prefer that you trust me because I have proven myself trustworthy, but I suppose that is a point well-made. Poison has never been a favorite tool of mine, and never one I would deploy against you.” 

You hummed skeptically and took a bite of your breakfast without further comment. 

“If I may,” Silco said, breaking the silence that had fallen between the two of you, “what drove you to open one of my letters?” 

You pondered the question, taking a sip of water before offering your answer. “I’m not really sure. Maybe I just hoped you had something worthwhile to say.” 

Silco’s polite smile turned to something sharper. “And I assume, from your presence here, that you were satisfied?” 

The way he purred ‘satisfied’ wreaked havoc on your body, not least because your psyche had decided that now was the perfect time to play back all of the hyper-realistic dreams you’d had about him over the past month. 

With any luck, none of that was showing on your face. “Maybe I’m just curious to see what price you plan to ask in exchange for keeping Shimmer off of the streets.” 

Silco’s face grew serious once more. “I meant what I wrote. You name what you are willing to give for it.” 

“Last time, you had a specific price in mind,” you remarked, half-hoping for another smirk. 

Silco didn’t take the bait. “I mean for this to be a negotiation, one taking place between two equal parties. You name your offer and I will decide if it is fair.” 

A distinct throb between your thighs let you know that your libido would be thrilled to make the same deal as you had last time. Your brain warned that it was a bad idea, but that voice was growing steadily quieter under the flood of lust surging through your body.

It would be easier, you realized, if Silco just wanted your body. If you could narrow down what he wanted to something as simple and limited as the option to fuck you a few times a month. 

But in the light of your newly realized feelings, you couldn't ignore that he hadn't done that. Silco hadn't given any hint of what he might want from you, but he also hadn't limited you to making offers based on physical pleasure. 

It was so much worse. You would rather keep yourself from having any hope at all rather than risk everything for the slim possibility that he felt a shadow of what you did. 

You set your fork down, taking a deep breath to steady yourself. You had come here for a purpose - to keep Shimmer away from the Haven. It didn't matter if doing that meant denying yourself. You were used to that. The important thing was helping people. That was all that had ever been important. 

“If we want this to be a business discussion, maybe we should go to your office,” you suggested. Silco watched you blankly, and you expanded, “I've seen you do quite a bit of business and none of it ever happened in an empty bar.”

“Would you care to finish your breakfast first?” Silco asked. 

Your stomach was right with nerves, with fear that you wouldn't be able to come to an agreement with him. Even the few bites you had taken were sitting heavily. 

You shook your head. “Not unless you need the time to finish yours.” 

Silco stood immediately. “Unnecessary. Follow me.” 

You were amused despite yourself as you followed Silco to his office. It wasn't as if you hadn't been there before - you knew the way. But if he wanted to lead, there was something more to it. Maybe he just wanted to prove that he was willing to have you at his back. 

Silco’s office was precisely the same as it had been the last time you were there. The desk spoke of the messy mind and busy life of someone doing his best to rule a city. The wicked-looking lance he used for his eye was kept carefully behind the desk, but it was softened slightly by the neon doodles on the handle. The furniture was just as austere as ever, though it was less intimidating when you could vividly remember every time you had been sprawled naked across each surface. 

Somehow, it felt like home, and that made your stomach tighten reflexively with nerves.

Silco sat behind his desk, motioning for you to sit across from him. When you did, he folded his hands on the desk’s surface, fixing you with a mismatched stare. “If you prefer to get straight to business, let us do so. What are you willing to give me in exchange for the Haven’s neighborhood remaining free of Shimmer?” 

You smiled mirthlessly. “I have nothing you want.” 

“I wouldn’t go that far, my dear,” Silco said, openly admiring you. 

The exchange was familiar, a faint echo of the conversation that had started you both on this path. There was a gleam in Silco’s eyes, a fond reminiscence that made you want to smile at him in earnest. 

But you gathered your willpower and shook your head. “We can’t make that deal again, remember? When you came to the Haven last month, you said that was the only chance to resume our original deal. I turned you down.”

“I could be persuaded to make an exception.” 

You arched a brow. “Really? This would be the first time I’ve ever seen it. Why?” 

“I miss you,” he admitted openly. When you frowned, he leaned toward you. “No lies or manipulations - I have missed you. I have felt your absence every day since we ended our meetings.”

“You missed me, so you released Shimmer outside of the Haven?” you asked, wincing at the open hurt in your voice. “You missed me so badly that the only thing you could do was try to destroy everything I’ve worked toward for the past few years of my life?” 

“I had to-” Silco broke off with a rueful laugh. “I had to give you a reason to come back to me.” 

You gaped. “So you-?” 

Silco raised his hand, cutting off your protestations. “No, pet, let me say this. I need to, and I need you to listen. And if you still hate me afterward, I will let you live in peace. No more Shimmer and no more contact with me, I give you my word.” 

After a moment of consideration, you sat back in your chair and motioned for him to continue. 

With a deep breath, he did. “I know you have no need for me. Everything I provided for you, you are well capable of getting for yourself. You have managed without my security team, you found support for your Haven that has nothing to do with my donations, and you stood against Shimmer sales in the area. You have built a fine enterprise. I- I have nothing to offer you anymore.”

“So I had to resort to underhanded dealings.” Silco shook his head with a rueful little smile. “Perhaps you do not realize how well the Haven withstood my Shimmer. I pulled my dealers, but they were far less profitable than I had expected. I would have withdrawn them regardless. I did regret my actions, but they were born of desperation. You wouldn’t agree to a new deal, and I realized how capable you are even without assistance from me. ”

Silco pressed his hands against the desk’s surface, making grim eye contact with you. “I hoped that I could push you into answering me. More than that, I hoped to force you into making another deal with me, into seeing that you could not survive down here without my protection. I was wrong. You have made a place for yourself here and - more importantly - you have found a way to care for the people of Zaun. I see what you have done to change and shape their lives and it has forced me to accept what I have known for months: I am yours.” 

The kind thing would be to say something in reply to that revelation. You wanted to, but it was so far from anything you had expected him to say that you couldn’t do anything but gape at him. Silco’s gaze stayed trained on your face, but there was a tightness around his eyes and mouth that spoke of nervousness. 

“If-” You broke off to clear your throat, trying to make your voice sound less waveringly uncertain. “If you aren’t being sincere, please don’t say that. Don’t joke about it or use it to manipulate me. Please.” 

“Manipulate you?” Silco repeated, sounding irritated. “Pet, you don’t seem to understand that I have done the very opposite. I have given you the keys to everything I can offer. I have given you the simplest possible way to manipulate me.” 

“I wouldn’t,” you assured him instantly. He lifted a brow and you repeated, “I wouldn’t.”

“And why wouldn’t you?” he asked. “You could everything you wanted without being required to give anything in return-”

“Because I care about you, Silco,” you snapped. 

Immediately afterward, a deathly silence fell in the office and you leapt to your feet. There was nothing to do but leave after that. 

You didn’t make it even halfway to the door before Silco caught your arm, holding you steady as he stared down into your face. 

“If you are being insincere, please don’t say that.” You might have thought he was mocking you if he hadn’t looked so terribly concerned.

“Silco, why would I possibly lie about that?” you asked. “If you’re right and you’ve given me everything, why would I lie about my feelings? To not use the keys you gave me?” 

“You-” It wasn’t often that you saw Silco thrown off his game, but he seemed to struggle to find the right words. “You love me?” 

Strictly speaking, neither of you had said anything about love. But in the privacy of your thoughts, you had realized weeks ago that your feelings for Silco had run deeper than you had ever assumed. There was no other reason you would still care about him after everything he had done. 

Besides, you had already come this far. 

“Yes.” 

Silco was studying you with the stunned, slightly suspicious look of a mad scientist watching a successful experiment and you were starting to think this entire meeting had been a mistake. 

“Maybe we should-” 

Your suggestion was left forever unfinished as Silco kissed you suddenly, deeply, and with such fierceness that it took your breath away. When your lungs were screaming, you pushed him away. He didn’t go far, staying close enough that you could feel his rapid breathing across your kiss-swollen lips. 

“Feels like we should talk about this.” 

Silco chuckled against your neck. “I can think of several more productive ways we could spend our time…” 

Everything in your body voiced a sudden and vehement opinion that Silco was right, and that sounded like a much better idea. You lifted your face for another kiss and Silco was quick to indulge you. 

The next few minutes were a bit of a blur. There was kissing and touching and the marvelous scent of Silco - how could you have missed one person so much? - and when it was over, you were lying naked on his bed. Silco was finishing stripping off his own clothes, eyes already devouring you with a predatory eagerness that probably should have scared you. 

When he was as bare as you, Silco joined you on the bed. He was on top of you almost immediately, kissing every bit of skin he could reach and exploring the rest with his wandering hands. You arched against him, fighting for as much contact as possible. It was like your body was drinking him in, soaking up everything you had been missing out on since your deal had been on pause. 

Silco’s fingers were even more dextrous than you remembered, plying your flesh and molding you still closer. If there was a breath of space between you, it was only so that he could sneak a touch into that same spot. You felt like you were on fire, but it only drove you to kiss him with more desperation. 

When you couldn’t stand it anymore, you reached down and took his length in a firm grip. The heat of him throbbed in your hand and Silco’s natural eye went heavy-lidded. He leaned forward to press another kiss to your lips, pulling away just far enough to whisper, “Missed you, pet.” 

It reminded you so strongly of the vivid dreams you had experienced that you nipped his lip to see if he would react like a real person. If you were dreaming again, you would be incredibly disappointed…

Silco pulled back with a garbled curse before plundering your mouth, delivering a wicked pinch to your hip at the same time. He took full advantage of your gasp to deepen the kiss even further. 

Without any clear thought or plan, you tightened your legs around his narrow hips and rolled, forcing him to the mattress while you straddled him from above. Your hands moved back down to his cock, teasing the head of it against the throbbing point of your clit. 

Silco bared his chipped teeth up at you. “You’re killing me, lovely.” 

“Can’t- mmmm… Can’t help it,” you babbled. “Feel so good…”

You bucked mindlessly on top of him until both of you were thoroughly slicked up and aching, but you couldn’t tear yourself away from the sensation long enough to line yourself up with him. 

That horrible, shining thread of tension broke for both of you at the same moment. Silco’s eyes narrowed and his fingers dug into your hips, lifting just as you planted your feet to do the same. 

Despite your best joint efforts, you weren’t properly aligned and the two of you slid against each other awkwardly. Silco growled while you let out what could only be termed a whine, but the frustration seemed to sharpen your concentration. The second time you tried to impale yourself on him, your breath caught at the feeling of his head notched against your entrance. 

Then you were lowering yourself and Silco was thrusting upward and he slid home with a teeth-rattling slam. If there was anyone else in The Last Drop, they would have heard your cry. It bounced off the high ceiling, echoing back to you in a cacophony of ecstasy that only drove you and Silco higher. 

If you had thought grinding against Silco felt wonderful, it was nothing compared to the tremendous depth of pleasure you felt at having him so deeply inside of you. All you could do was lift and lower, fucking yourself on him as Silco’s hands took some of your weight and tried to speed your movements. 

The slap of flesh meeting flesh was loud in the room, almost drowning out the shaking breaths that you and Silco were panting. His thumb found your clit, drawing a quick circle before he pressed down against the sensitive nerve cluster. It made you tighten desperately around him and Silco swore vividly. 

Of course, that didn’t stop him from repeating the torment. 

“I’m going- going to-” Your voice was far beyond breathy. It was almost reedy with the effort it was taking to stave off your impending orgasm.

Silco groaned, loud and hoarse. “Been dreaming about the way you feel when you come around my cock. Come for me, darling. Show me everything I’ve been missing.”

As if he had some sort of direct line into your nerves, the muscles of your core started to flutter and spasm, constricting around him like you were going to collapse in on yourself. 

That was more true than you realized. If there was ever a person in your life who felt like a black hole, it was Silco. Mysterious and fascinating and utterly unknowable. It was a strange series of thoughts to have during an orgasm, but your mind was locked into it by that point. Silco was such an outsized presence in your life, and to think that he loved you… well, it was almost beyond what your mind could comprehend. 

Then your mind went fuzzy and you didn’t have to worry about comprehending anything anymore. All that was left was pleasure and heat and the feeling of Silco fucking upward into you with every bit of force he could muster. He buried himself deep as he came, spreading more heat through your core and dripping out to smear between you. 

When your shaking thighs refused to hold you up any longer, you collapsed forward and onto his chest. Silco held you there, arms tight around you as you both caught your breath, then rolled you gently to one side so he could curl himself against your back. 

“I cannot believe you exist,” he murmured, tracing a tickling line over your temple. “And the idea that you love me… it is impossible.” 

You smiled despite yourself. “I feel the same way about you loving me.” 

He kissed your fingertips, humming softly as he folded your hand into his. 

Eventually, the flood of hormones receded enough for you to think clearly. “Silco? What does this-? Do we-? What, exactly, does this change?” 

Silco chuckled softly, and you felt the warmth of it against the nape of your neck. “As much or little as you’d like, pet. The Haven will be under my protection, but I can be as subtle about it as you’d like. And there will be no Shimmer in the neighborhood.” 

You thought that over for a while. The idea of Silco having a hand in the Haven again made you a little uncomfortable, but more for appearance’s sake than any real concern. And the majority of people had already proven that their morals were performative - you were horrible and the Haven was worthless… until they needed something. 

In the end, you relaxed against Silco. “This city isn’t going to know what hit it.” 

Silco laughed - a genuine, happy sound totally unlike the sardonic smirks you usually saw from him. “Too true, my little philanthropist. You and I united will be a force unlike anything they’ve ever seen.”

“I have a few ideas on where to start,” you confided, eyelids drooping with weariness. 

“I do, as well,” Silco agreed. “In fact, I’ve already begun the preparations for our final push for freedom.” 

You hummed, nearly asleep already. Silco pressed a kiss to the curve of your shoulder and you stirred yourself back to wakefulness. “Hmm? You have a final push worked out?” 

“Of course.” Silco sounded affectionately amused, as if it was adorable that you thought he would do anything without planning it fully. “I’ve hired a scientist to work out the details. He tells me the final product will take a few years to develop, but we have the time. We can continue our improvements to Zaun until then.” 

You were fully awake by that point, frowning blankly at the far wall. “Wait…” With some effort, you wiggled around until you were facing Silco directly. “You’ve hired someone to work on… what? What is this product? Sounds like you already have some things set in stone.” 

“Not quite, darling,” Silco assured you. “Just putting some pieces in place. I’ll still need to work out the final plan. In fact, I would welcome your help with that.”

“Okay, but say I want some of the details now,” you pushed. “What product are you having developed?” 

He sighed, rolling back on the pillow to stare up at the ceiling. “Very well, since you are so interested… It is a compound, similar to Shimmer in some ways, but not addictive. Not in the slightest.” 

Your hum was distinctly skeptical. “But what does it do?” 

“It mimics the increased adrenaline and reduced pain reception of the user,” Silco explained. “The adrenaline allows the user to push their body past many natural limits. They will accomplish incredible things.” 

You tensed, fighting the urge to sit upright. “So it turns people into super soldiers. But what about after the effects have subsided? Are there negative health impacts? And even if it isn’t chemically addictive, people can become obsessed with feeling like they have that kind of power.”

“It isn’t addictive because the user rarely survives,” Silco said, finally looking at you once more. You flinched, and he cupped your cheek. “This is precisely why I wished to spare you the details. You have a the ideals of a dreamer, despite your willingness to fight for a good cause.” 

“You’re planning to have people take a drug that will probably kill them.” You shook your head slowly. “What cause could be worth that? Scaring Piltover?” 

“No, I have no use for frightening them,” Silco said, grimacing. “They are fearful enough already. My soldiers would be dispensed to fight off guards, infiltrate the city, and clear the way to the Piltover Council.” 

“And-” Your pulse was thundering so hard that your voice shook with it. “And when you get to the Council?” 

“I kill them all, of course.” 

You gaped at that, horrified by the casual ease of his answer. Silco seemed oblivious to your feelings, kissing and nipping along the sensitive skin of your throat. 

“Silco, you can’t do that,” you said, gently pushing him away.

He blinked at you, the beginnings of irritation growing on his face. “And why, precisely, can I not?” 

“Because you can’t take Piltover by force!” 

“No, I cannot,” Silco agreed, a sly smile growing on his face. “Not yet, at least. But the initial trials are more than promising.”

“This isn’t an option,” you argued. “You’ll do even more harm if you come in by attacking the Council and using drugged soldiers as your muscle.” 

A muscle ticced in Silco’s jaw, and you changed your tone to a logical one instead. “Think of it this way: if you take the city by force, you’ll hold it for a while. You’re clever and you have the ability to draw followers. But if you present yourself as a powerful enemy, the people will combine forces to fight  against you. They will always see you as an invader to repel. You’ll never manage to quell the resistance to Zaun.” 

“Have you already forgotten that I’ll have an army powered by one of the most potent substances ever developed in this city?” Silco asked archly. 

“You’ll have a single-use army,” you countered. “And as more and more of them sacrifice themselves for this war, you’ll have fewer and fewer supporters willing to fight for you.” 

“Then I’ll make it so they have no choice but to fight for me,” Silco bit out. 

You furrowed your brows, studying him more intensely than you had since you first met. There was nothing but resolve in his expression, and you knew without further questioning that you wouldn’t change his mind. He was going to destroy Piltover - and, in doing so, he would destroy any hope for the nation of Zaun. 

With a sigh, you tossed back the covers he had tucked over you and made to rise from the bed. 

Silco caught at your wrist, pinning it to the mattress. “Where are you going?” 

“I’m not going to convince you to change your plan, and you’re not going to convince me that it’s a good idea.” You smiled sadly at him. “It seems we’ve finally found something we cannot agree on.” 

You tugged a little harder at your wrist, but Silco held firm. “But you love me and I love you. You’ve admitted as much.” 

“I do love you,” you agreed. “But that doesn’t mean I can support you in this. Whatever concessions you were going to make for the Haven, consider them either paid for or unaccepted. I think it would be best if we don’t meet up again.”

The cool slither against your skin was followed by two distinct clicks. You turned slowly, both knowing and dreading what you would see when you did: Silco had handcuffed you to one of the rings embedded in his headboard. 

“Silco, take this off of me.” You managed to keep your voice even despite the panic rising in your chest. 

“No.” 

You couldn’t help but pull against the metal encircling your wrist. It did nothing but make you feel more trapped. “Silco!”

“No,” he snapped again, voice harsh enough to make you stop struggling momentarily. “I lost you once. I don't intend to be so careless as to allow it to happen a second time.” 

“Silco,” you pleaded, striving for a less confrontational tone. “This is insane. I can't just stay locked in your room.”

“We love each other,” he reminded you, buttoning his pants. “Everything else will work out in time.”

And then he left, slipping shirtless into his office. You tugged fruitlessly at the handcuffs and tried to keep your breathing steady.

---

Author's Note - They were SO CLOSE to a happy ending. But Silco will always be Silco and our dear reader just can't handle some of his more pragmatic plots.

We're in the final stretch now, friends! Only a few more chapters until the end of this story.

Thank you for reading! If I can ask a favor, I haven't had the chance to watch any of Arcane Season Two yet, so if you choose to review (thank you!), please try to avoid including any spoilers. I can tell from my tumblr notifications on this story that Silco must be in S2, but I'm trying not to know how much or in what capacity. I'll try to be caught up by the time I post the next chapter.