Since Arcane season two is about to come out, it seems right to do some spring cleaning and make a list of all the headcanons written so far! The list will be updated as I post more.
▶ Ongoing Arcane ff
↠ "Everytime it rains" (alternative timeline)
▶ The last drop tour
↠ Part 1 (the bar)
↠ Part 2 (Silco's office)
↠ Part 3 (Alternative timeline)
▶ The ones with just one or two characters:
↠ “Stroking the other’s back comfortingly” [Cassandra]
↠ “If we ever stop talking send me a song” [Vander]
↠“Sinners” [Marcus]
↠“This is where the magic happens” [Viktor]
↠“I can't explain and I won't even try” [Jayce]
↠“Lips tasting like rum” [Jayce]
↠“We wanted to be the sky” [Ekko]
↠“Ekko & Vi with a transmasc S/O” [Ekko & Vi]
↠“Vi with a chubby S/O” [Vi]
↠“This is the sign you’ve been looking for” [Silco]
↠“Look at me. Breathe, there you go.” [Silco]
↠"Love is a cycle" [Powder s02E07]
↠"The corner shop [Marcus]"
▶ The ones with everyone or almost all of them:
↠[arcane preference] founding out you were injured in crossfire
↠ drinking with [arcane preferences]
↠ Arcane men and their kinks
↠ [Arcane preference] reacting to their s/o gifting them sweets
↠ [Arcane preferences] and their s/o reacting to the cold
↠ [Arcane preference] finding you asleep at their workplace
↠ [Arcane preference] with s/o wet due to rain
↠ [Arcane preference] Love language
↠ dancing with [Arcane preferences]
↠[Arcane preference] reacting to you wearing their clothes
↠[Arcane preference] reacting to a s/o with a mental health issues (eating)
↠[Arcane preference (girlies)] with a chubby s/o
↠[Arcane preference zaunites] with a s/o from Piltover
↠[Arcane preference] with a chubby s/o pt.2- cuddle time
↠[Arcane preference] with a s/o with a mental issues pt.2 (the big sad)
↠[Arcane preference] reacting to someone flirting with their s/o + jealousness
↠[Arcane preference]reacting to their s/o calling them husband/wife for the first time
↠[Arcane preference] reacting to a s/o falling asleep on their lap
↠[Arcane preference]reacting to their s/o wearing parfum
↠[Arcane preference]reacting to their s/o wearing mobility aids
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The smell of reagents and smoke clung to the air, familiar now after so many nights in his lab. Singed moved with his usual precision, every gesture deliberate, as though the world slowed down to his rhythm.
“You understand what I’m testing for,” he said, voice low, steady. “How your body reacts to… stimulus.”
He didn’t touch you at first, he simply watched. The faintest twitch of a smile ghosted across his face, a scientist finding fascination in something he shouldn’t.
When he finally closed the distance, his gloved fingers hovered just above your skin. “Good,” he murmured. “Now don’t look away.”
The light from the chemical lamps painted your reflection across the glass of one of his tanks. You could see him behind you, focused, unblinking. When his fingers finally met your skin, the contact was startlingly warm for someone who spent his life surrounded by cold instruments.
Every move was measured, every breath he took deliberate. His eyes flicked between you and the faint condensation forming on the glass, as though tracking two experiments at once.
“Your pulse,” he observed quietly, “is accelerating.” A hint of satisfaction curved his lips. “Exactly as predicted.”
He tilted his head, studying you like a formula balancing on the edge of completion. “Let me see how long you can hold that rhythm.”
You found yourself standing where he usually worked, surrounded by the familiar clutter of glassware and chemicals. Only this time, you weren’t the assistant, you were the experiment. He said it wasn’t dangerous, just a study of how the human body reacts… but the way he watched you said otherwise.
The next thirty minutes were a blur of strange sensations. He tested you with different objects and sounds, even letting a few of his rats crawl over your skin as he watched for your reactions. Sometimes the noises were sharp, other times low and droning, each designed to measure how your body responded. He jotted every detail into his notebook, murmuring a quiet, “Interesting.”
Over time, your body tensed at some of the sensations, your pulse spiking before slowly settling back to normal. His eyes stayed fixed on you, focused, analytical, as if he were searching for a reaction he hadn’t seen yet.
Finally, he set everything aside, jotting the last of his notes into the second blank page of his book. Only one box remained empty. His expression flickered, something between hesitation and curiosity.
“There’s one more thing I’d like to try,” he said.
“Go on, then,” you told him, your tone caught somewhere between permission and demand.
He made a thoughtful sound, then said simply, “Undress.”
A startled gasp escaped you. The order wasn’t what you’d anticipated, yet you obeyed, because Singed never spoke without reason.
At the same time, he kept his eyes on the monitor, jotting down observations as he spoke.
“Your body’s reacting more,” he noted, voice calm and detached. “Temperature slightly elevated, pulse increased, but nothing extreme.”
You kept undressing in silence, embarrassment prickling at your skin. Still, you’d be lying if you said there wasn’t a flicker of amusement beneath it all.
When the final garment slipped to the floor, his gaze swept over you, clinical, curious, more observation than desire.
“Good girl,” he said quietly.
The monitor beside him spiked in response, your pulse shooting upward the instant the words left his mouth.
His eyes flicked back to the screen, a small, satisfied sound escaping him. Once again, he analyzed the results, jotting quick notes into his journal.
You couldn’t help but think that, if he were a stranger, you’d never have agreed to this. But after years of working beside him, trust, and something more, had taken root. You’d always shared a kind of chemistry, and you’d be lying if you said you’d never felt drawn to him. You just never told him.
“Mm… fascinating,” he murmured, eyes still fixed on the rising data. “You seem to respond most to language, though not just any words.”
He paused, pen hovering above the page, as though considering the shape of a theory forming in his mind. “Certain sounds. Specific phrasing. The tone, perhaps, or intent. Words that slip past reason and reach something instinctive.”
His gaze lifted to you then, curious rather than cruel. “It’s remarkable, really,” he said softly. “How a few simple syllables can change the entire chemistry of a body.”
He paused for a moment, the silence thick with expectation.
“On your knees,” he commanded.
“What?” you breathed, caught off guard.
His gaze hardened. “You heard me, on your knees.”
The words were dark, deliberate, leaving no room for hesitation. You could feel your pulse quicken, and from the brief glance he gave the monitor, you knew he saw it too. Slowly, you sank to your knees before him, a wave of warmth curling low in your stomach.
He moved toward you one slow step at a time, every motion controlled, unhurried. When he reached you, his hand slid into your hair, fingertips tracing through the strands as if memorizing the texture.
“You’re beautiful like this,” he said quietly, his palm drifting down to cup your jaw. “And judging by the monitor, you’re enjoying yourself.”
You tried to look away, but couldn’t.
His lips curved slightly. “If I said I wasn’t, I’d be lying.”
The air between you was heavy, alive with the same tension that had lingered for years. It had always been there, simmering just beneath the surface, never acknowledged, never acted on. You’d wanted each other, that much was clear. You just never believed it would actually happen… until now.
“I know you want me,” Singed said, his voice steady. “And I know you know that I want you, too.”
Heat rushed to your cheeks, you’d never imagined you’d find yourself here, with him.
“I–I mean… I—” you stammered, but he cut you off before you could finish.
“Come here,” he said quietly, eyes locking on yours. “Show me that you want me.”
You gasp, even more heat rising to your cheeks. You obey, crawling closer to him.
“Go on then, sweetheart, don’t be shy,” he said.
Your hands began tracing over his pants, moving toward his bulge. Slowly, your fingers glided over him, making him twitch just a little.
You looked up at him, your gaze locked with his, intense, yet full of heat. Slowly, you unbuckled his belt and let his pants fall, your teeth catching your lower lip as you did.
“You have no idea what that does to me when you bite your lip like that,” he said, voice low and rough.
As his lower body became fully exposed to you, your breath caught in your throat. You wrapped your hand around him, starting with a slow, steady pace.
“Just being this close to you makes me hard,” he said, his voice rough. Your hand kept moving, steady and deliberate. “You make my whole body ache in the best way.”
You pressed a soft kiss to his tip, your hand still moving in slow, steady strokes. A low curse slipped from his lips, breath catching as you leaned closer. When you took him fully into your mouth, his voice broke into a rough moan.
“You feel so good, baby,” he managed, words half, lost to the sound of his breathing.
He was big, and you had to use your hands to tend to what your mouth couldn’t reach.
“You’re going to take all of me,” he said, voice low and certain, “and you’re going to love every second of it.”
His hand tangled in your hair, guiding you with firm control. You struggled for a breath at first but quickly adjusted, the tension in your body giving way to heat. The sensation built in your stomach, sharp and growing.
“You’re being such a good girl right now,” Singed said, his tone low and approving.
He pulled you away, one hand coming up to cradle your cheek.
“Good girls get rewards,” he said, his voice low.
“Stand up.”
You obeyed, and as soon as you were upright, he turned you around.
“Bend over the table,” he ordered again, tone firm but measured.
As you bent forward, the position left you feeling exposed and breathless. Heat flushed your cheeks, and the growing tension in your body became impossible to ignore.
“Open your legs for me… wider.”
You did as he said, heart pounding.
“You’re mine tonight,” Singed said, his voice low and certain. “I make the rules.”
“Yes sir.” you answered, voice caught between nerves and heat.
The corner of his mouth lifted, clearly amused by your reaction. His touch drifted lower, deliberate and slow.
“Already so wet for me,” he murmured, his tone half teasing, half approval. “Such a good girl.”
You felt him trace your entrance, pushing inside, the slow movement making your breath catch. A sound slipped from you before you could stop it, the pressure giving way to heat.
“That moan? That belongs to me. Keep making it.” Singed says, as he start moving in a slowly but steady pace.
His hands found the sides of your hips as he leaned over you, pressing soft kisses along your back, your shoulders, and finally your neck.
“You make everything feel better,” he whispered against your skin. “I’m addicted to you.”
Your moans grew louder and more frequent as his pace quickened. You could feel him getting lost in the moment, his grip on your hips tightening with every movement.
“I can never get enough of you. You ruin me in the best way.” He gasped, his pace growing uneven and unsteady. You couldn’t find the words, your breath caught somewhere between a sigh and a moan, but he didn’t stop.“You melt against me like your body knows I belong there.”
At last he moved with a final thrust of motion, filling you up. The sensation taking over his body making him fall on your back slightly, resting against you.
After a moment, he stood up, taking a second to tidy himself, and you, as best he could. Then he wrapped you in one of his coats, its scent familiar and warm, and kissed you for the first time.
“Fascinating,” he said, almost to himself. His gaze returned to you, and the edge in his tone eased. “You did well.”
“I now seem to understand what your body really reacts to”
This was a little challenge(?) I did to better understand my characters and their intimate interactions since "god it's so difficult to write smut about this man" but I guess that if I made the other partner kinda generic this could be a lovely NSFW Alphabet for the mad scientist himself so here you go.
Enjoy!
Disclaimer: Not proofread and English is not my first language
(Divider from @saradika-graphics)
⚠️NSFW under the cut (18+ only🔞)⚠️
A = aftercare (what they’re like after sex)
It depends, Singed is not a soft man but he cares deeply for those he loves, a good equilibrium for him would be keeping the contact going, no matter if you both are burning through your respective skins.
This involves nose bumps, a solid minute or two of just foreheads touching or some simple peck on each other’s necks, if you two spend all of your stamina (and so you are not asking for more) he always makes sure you had enough time to go back to your guarded self, a pity but a necessity in Zaun before (sometimes) returning back to his work a little while later.
If he’s too spent tho he’ll just lay down with you tracing your skin with his fingertips.
B = body part (their favourite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)
Singed doesn’t have a particularly good relationship with his own body since the Explosion but feels silly about caring, if he had to decide he’d probably say his hands but not for aesthetic reasons, they are discoloured and bony after all, no, he likes them only because they are the most useful part of his body (besides his brain) as they aid him in creating science and of course —even if he’s embarrassed to acknowledge that- they also bring pleasure to his partner.
As for his partner’s he likes intelligence of all kind above all else (emotional, street, textbook etc…).
On a purely sexual aspect: he likes your thighs the most, pillowy and twitching, especially if framing his head.
C = cum (anything to do with cum, basically)
Loves, loves, loves to finish inside, to the point he contemplates having a breeding kink (he has one, he’s just too ashamed to admit it) he likes to watch it pooling out of you even if furtively since he’s a bit embarrassed by this side of himself.
Possibly because he didn’t get any action for a long time he cums a lot, quite difficult for you to swallow tbh, salty but not unpleasant at all perhaps a bit too tacky, and quite difficult to get rid of especially when coating your throat.
D = dirty secret (pretty self-explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)
Besides the fact he had jacked off on the memory of you more than once, he’s an open book.
He still does it, okay I said it, the man is patient but not on these things, if he feels like jerking off and you are not available he’ll just pop the buttons of his trousers open and just be done with it.
God forbid you left something of yours in his laboratory, an abandoned jacket? Too bad he’s stuffing his nose in it to smell your scent.
E = experience (how experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?)
He used to have a wife, a loooong time ago but he kinda forgot how to satisfy a partner so I'd say kinda inexperienced.
He’s smart tho, learns impressively quickly and knows anatomy to the T, but he’s a bit sat back since half of his mouth is completely gone and he’s still a bit insecure about his looks but that won’t stop him, especially once he understands you have no intention of leaving him.
F = favourite position (this goes without saying)
Anything that have you propped over a surface, his desk, his operating table wherever tbh.
In his lap is another favourite of his, especially when working, to have you sat on his dick, bouncing you up and down with the drumming of his leg is probably his favourite position, especially if he can look at you in the eyes, to analyze your fucked out face, eyes rolled to the back of your skull.
Bonus point! If he can put your legs over his shoulder any position skyrockets to a 10/10, to be specific if he can keep your calves in his grasp.
G = goofy (are they more serious in the moment? Are they humorous? etc.)
More teasing than goofy probably, or very very serious the first times but only because he wanted you to understand it was him you were giving your body to.
If you are on the goofy and mischievous side he'll tune his own seriousness to match yours better otherwise he's happy in being serious too (but expect him to crack a very malicious joke about your condition once you get overwhelmed)
H = hair (how well groomed are they? Does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)
Good fucking question, he’s well-groomed I’d suppose(?) if nothing for sanitary reasons, he’s almost completely hairless anywhere else saves for some splotches of sparse hair islands over his legs where the explosion left some untouched skin but they are both thin and light brown (or worst: white) so I’d say he has minimal hair, a bit of a happy trail that ends on a very sparse light dusting of hair.
I = intimacy (how are they during the moment? The romantic aspect)
Very intimate (if it’s not a frustration fuck) always touching you, rolling his fingers over knots of muscles, tracing old scars —especially if healed or stitched up by him- very big on nose nuzzle and massages.
J = jack off (masturbation headcanon)
I’d say he jacks off to the weirdest of shits and to be fair quite often, before getting physical with you he used to masturbate on your smell (it's your fault for leaving your jacket in his lab), your way of doing things, how you walked into the room the day before, some very lonely old man thoughts, sometimes without even noticing, especially when thinking about some scientific problems.
He’s usually quiet, doesn’t even pull out of his pants, simply grimacing at the sensation of drying cum inside his breeches, unhappily standing up to go change.
K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)
Psychological play; god the motherfucker loves some psycho games, he’ll talk you through some ethical dilemma shit while absolutely fucking you silly, demanding answers too.
Also MASSIVE breeding kink.
L = location (favourite places to do the do)
As an extremely specific place in the lab: the desk he works on.
He doesn’t know why it had just been engraved in his head as your place since you hopped up on it once to playfully tease him (perhaps during that period of uncertainty of your romantic and physical relationship?) and now he cannot think of anything else while using it. He likes to lift you over the edge of it and just fucks you raw.
He’s actually a bit ashamed of it but only because he cannot find a logical explanation for this behaviour of his.
M = motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)
Frustration (you might want to read “O” first), giving you oral had become a kind of stress reliever so his brain associated sex with calmness and now any type of thinking-related stress or frustration gets immediately translated into want.
Otherwise your simple existence (whom he finds extremely tantalizing) and any type of smart-ass remarks do the trick for him, every time you bite back with a clever jab at him he gets a little bit harder inside his pants.
N = no (something they wouldn’t do, turn-offs)
Impact play. Weirdly enough since he has been the reason behind many people’s pain, he simply doesn’t want to be behind yours.
He’s a calm man, he’s not for physical violence.
He’s up for some mild degradation but that one too doesn’t do anything for him.
O = oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)
Easy peasy answer would be: Singed likes to receive it.
But it’s a little bit more complicated than that: it’s not that he doesn’t like to give heads he’s just a bit overwhelmed by the difficulty of it since he doesn’t have any lips left, just like kissing.
This lasts only for a while though, I'd say only in the very beginning of your relationship. Once he got his confidence back seeing you are not going anywhere he started to approach the lack as a puzzle to figure out, something to work with instead of something to be ashamed of, the technicality of it became a sort of calming activity.
He actually ends up eating you out every time he feels stressed or stuck in a scientific problem; it’s something he learned how to perfect to the T so he now feels very safe in between your thighs. Sure, to be wakened up by your warm mouth on him is certainly one of the best sensations he ever experienced but he still thinks that being able to make you squirm and cry out his name only with his tongue and mouth still rivals the sensation.
P = pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)
A mix of both, sometimes —randomly, he gets aggressive and rough all of a sudden, probably an outlet for all the physical violence he never allows himself to free but he’s usually very slow and attentive. He likes to take his time with you and has nowhere else to be; he will also not be able to go for round two so he’ll drag the first round out as much as he can and will go on with fingers and tongue if asked (as the absolute GOAT he is).
Q = quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)
Not a huge fan of them but he still likes them, especially when he needs to work on something but can feel some pent-up energy he needs to get rid of.
Still, he prefers to keep working on his project and have you on his lap, preferably cock warming otherwise squirming on his lap asking for more.
R = risk (are they game to experiment? Do they take risks? etc.)
No, to put it plainly he’s a very calculating man and a very strict one at that, the context doesn’t help either since everywhere you two turn danger lurks behind every corner BUT! he likes to experiment for sure, just not in the sense he would put your life at risk by doing something in the streets of Zaun or something like that.
But you two for SURE fucked under the influence of some aphrodisiacs created by him (of course with consent).
S = stamina (how many rounds can they go for? How long do they last?)
Let’s be honest the man is ancient, you have to be thankful if he can go one full round so probably one round and that’s it, if you tease him about it (don't do it with malice he's babygirl) with the intention of getting a rise out of him you'll get what you want: oral for at least an hour.
He can drag out oral to infinite, very happy to be on his knees (even if maybe it would be better if he wasn’t since he’s not getting any younger) You'll have to beg him to stop.
Repent and maybe he'll let that one slide… maybe…
T = toys (do they own toys? Do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)
I'd say he doesn't own any, merely because he never thought about getting any, he's a very simple man.
But I think he wouldn’t be opposed to them, he’s a man of science after all, he’ll at least experiment.
U = unfair (how much they like to tease)
A lot.
And I mean it. If you are the one desperate for him you'll have to beg (preferably on your knees) for even a scrap of relief, the man is a human tease walking; very playful and mischievous, all in for psychological plays, loves to hear you begging and pleading, trying to pile up a thought out reason for you to be entitled to come.
V = volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)
Not very vocal, he breathes heavily tho, he’s missing lips and a chunk of his cheek so you usually can hear a faint whistle of blown-out air reverberating from his mouth when his breath gets too ragged, it usually means he’s about to come.
This also means he stopped masking his sounds after probably your first time together, his treacherous body won’t allow him to stay silent so he kinda relaxed on all those aspects, he grunts, moans and pants a lot, even whimpers sometimes but usually when caught off guard (like when you wake him up by giving him heads)
W = wild card (a random headcanon for the character)
MASSIVE medical kink but that is a bit out of hand for him since it’s more of a turn-on rather than something he indulges in especially since it implies for you to get hurt, but you can bet your pension the time you asked him to control something about your health he was hard in his pants. Every time he checks on your vitals? he’s breathing a bit harder.
He feels bad for it, especially since the time he had to stitch you up and popped a boner right after.
X = x-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)
Longer than thicker, I’d say around 7½/8 inches not really thick but he can reach all the places that need to be reached, borderline painful if frustrated and pounding but it happens very rarely (THE MAN IS OLD).
As for the rest of him: he’s alarmingly skinny, lanky and heavily disfigured all over his body, ribs can be seen under his skin (and I'm not talking about the last ones I’m talking about the entirety of his ribcage) his torso is slightly longer than his legs (in proportion) and so he’s kinda weird looking when naked.
Y = yearning (how high is their sex drive?)
Surprisingly high, he looks like a starved man constantly at his first feast, if you are at arms reach he’ll probably pull you into his lap.
Z = zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)
Not quickly, he’s insomniac most of the nights so even if drained of all his energy he would still remain vigilant, sometimes immediately returning back to his work some other nights staying in bed with you, tracing your profile with long fingers.
I will probably update it, my head is full of unholy thoughts about this man…
If you have any complaints about this really go and talk to my father. There is no way on earth this would have been created if he was actually present in my life.
Enjoy ❤️
Your feet dangled off the edge of the hard metallic cot in Singed’s laboratory, cool air brushing against your skin. The thin fabric of your nightgown did little to keep you warm here, but you knew better than to protest. Singed had his ways, and they were meticulous.
“Darling, really, it’s just a cough,” you murmured, trying to ease the worry etched into his furrowed brow. “It’ll pass by morning.”
He didn’t reply, his hands already gathering instruments and checking his notes. Despite your insistence that he needed more care than you – what with his sleepless nights and constant exposure to chemicals – he always made you his priority. It was just his way.
You knew that deep down, after what happened with his daughter, he was afraid of losing anyone else close to him. He never spoke of her, at least not directly, but her absence lingered in everything he did. It was in the way his hands trembled when he thought no one was looking, or the hollow way his eyes sometimes fixed on the experiments before him, as if searching for answers he knew he would never find.
It was already a miracle he’d let anyone else into his world, much less you.
Carefully, you reached out, your fingers brushing lightly against his arm as he worked. He froze, his movements ceasing as his gaze shifted to where your hand rested. For a moment, you thought he might pull away, retreat back into the safety of his solitude, but instead, he sighed. Barely audible, a sound more exhalation than anything else.
“I’m not going anywhere,” you said softly.
“Now take this,” he conveniently ignored you, handing you a thermometer. You obeyed, placing it in your mouth.
“No, not like that,” he corrected, taking it back. With you his movements were always precise but never harsh. Unbuttoning your gown with deft fingers, he pressed the thermometer under your arm, ensuring it was snugly positioned before folding your hand over it.
The warmth of his touch lingered even as he stepped away to monitor a nearby concoction bubbling faintly in some flask. You caught his profile in the dim light. Focused, sharp, but softened in a way that only you ever got to see. The harshness of Zaun’s infamous Alchemist gave way to something tender, something protective when he was around you.
“You know, I should be the one doing this for you,” you mumbled, shifting on the cot. “You’re the one who’s not getting any younger, Singed.”
He let out a quiet chuckle, one that was more breath than sound. “If I relied on your care, I’d be dead within a week.” There was no malice in his words, only a dry fondness. “Now stay still.”
He returned to the thermometer, removing it with care. His brow furrowed again as he read the result.
“What does it say?” you asked, watching his expression.
He didn’t answer right away, instead brushing a lock of hair from your face. “You’re running a slight fever,” he said, voice low. “It’s nothing your body cant handle.”
“Now, open your shirt,” he commanded, his voice low and steady, the stethoscope dangling from his neck as he slipped it into his ears.
You hesitated for only a moment before obeying, your trembling fingers working the rest of the buttons loose until your bare chest was exposed. The cool air prickled your skin, making your nipples hard. His piercing gaze that sent a shiver down your spine didn’t help.
His eyes flickered briefly over your form before focusing on the task at hand, but you caught the faintest twitch at the corner of his mouth.
Still, he said nothing as he placed the stethoscope on your chest, the metal yet again icy against your skin. His face was so close, you could see the tight line of his jaw as he concentrated.
Your gaze stayed fixed on him, drinking in the sharp lines of his body, the way the dim laboratory light played across his features.
He looked impossibly handsome like this – calm, collected, entirely in control.
Desire coiled in your belly, heat pooling low, but Singed remained composed, his touch as clinical as always. The tension between you was crackling like arcs of electricity you could hear in the background.
“Breathe,” he said, his voice breaking the silence. His tone betrayed nothing, but the brief flicker in his gaze told you he wasn’t entirely unaffected.
“Singed…” You reached for his hand, to move the stethoscope away, the faint scars on his fingers rough against your palm.
He glanced down at your joined hands, the corner of his mouth twitching upward, the faintest hint of a smile crossing his usually stern features. “Just let me take care of you,” he murmured, his voice low and rough.
“You know I’ll be alright,” you whispered, a soft reassurance as you shifted into his lap, settling there as though you belonged nowhere else. Your movements were deliberate, pressing your body against his, the grind of your hips against his bony leg subtle yet unmistakable. His breath hitched, but he remained still, watching you with an intensity that made your skin prickle.
You reached up, your fingers brushing the rough edges of the bandages that swathed his face, carefully peeling them back just enough to reveal his scarred cheek. Beneath the mangled flesh, you could see the curve of his teeth exposed, a sight that might terrify others but not you.
You leaned forward, pressing a tender kiss to the vulnerable skin, unbothered by its imperfections.
“You’re very handsome like this,” you said softly, with adoration in your voice. Your lips lingered against him.
For a moment, he said nothing, his gaze fixed on you as though trying to unravel the enigma of your affection. His hands, usually so steady, rested uncertainly at your sides, his fingers curling slightly, hesitant to hold you tighter.
“The kids are asleep,” you murmured, your voice low and inviting as you leaned closer to him. “How about we take advantage of that?”
He looked at you with a mix of amusement and concern and his sharp features softened. “You should be resting, dear. You have a fever. I can feel it on your skin,” he said, his calloused fingers brushing lightly over your temple, lingering there as if to emphasize his point.
You let out a soft chuckle, a smirk playing on your lips as you tilted your head, catching the subtle shift in his expression. “An old man passing up an opportunity like this?” you teased, your knee sliding between his legs with deliberate slowness.
His jaw tightened, and he took in a sharp breath through his nose, but he didn’t pull away. Singed was a master of restraint, always keeping his emotions tightly bottled. Yet you knew his body better than he did sometimes. The heat building beneath your touch was unmistakable, and so was the faint tremor in his hands as they hovered uncertainly at your hips.
“You’re impossible,” he muttered, his voice rough, but there was no real annoyance there. If anything, it sounded like a surrender wrapped in a protest.
“And you’re irresistible,” you countered, your smirk growing as you leaned forward, your lips grazing the edge of his jaw. The faint chemical tang of his lab lingered on his skin, but beneath it was a warmth that was entirely his own, “You know you want me too.”
He didn’t reply. Not with words, at least. But the way his hands finally gripped your waist was answer enough.
Summary: You help Singed with a radical experiment. His fascination with your mind gives way to unsettling attraction. Science and obsession entwine.
Pairing: Singed x femReader
Word count: ~1,100
You weren’t sure when the line began to blur : between curiosity and complicity, between admiration and something stranger.
At first, it was just a research opportunity. A rare apprenticeship under one of Piltover's most controversial scientific minds, buried far beneath Zaun in a lab that always felt too cold, no matter how many hours you spent there.
Singed didn’t smile much. He didn’t talk unless it served the experiment. His voice was steady, low, and detached yet oddly soothing in its precision.
“Give me the stabilizer,” he said, eyes fixed on the tank in front of him.
You did without hesitation. Your fingers brushed his glove. He didn’t flinch, but he did glance at you just a flicker. Like he was cataloguing the sensation.
The creature inside the tank thrashed, translucent skin rippling with bio-luminescent veins. It had once been a rat. Now it was something else entirely.
“I don’t understand,” you murmured, reading over the notes. “This mutation—its cell division shouldn’t be sustainable.”
He looked up at you, slowly. Not as a scolding mentor. As something else. “Exactly.”
That was the moment something shifted.
You’d expected pride. Or perhaps cold dismissal. Instead, you saw something else in his gaze: a flicker of… admiration? Maybe even something possessive. Like he was proud not just of your observation—but of you.
From then on, he let you closer.
He asked your opinion more often. Gave you the most dangerous tasks. Let you document things he hadn’t trusted to paper in years.
And you said yes every time.
You told yourself it was for the science. For the prestige. For the chance to change the world.
But in the silence of the lab, sometimes you caught him watching you.
Not in the way someone watches a peer. In the way a chemist watches an unstable compound.
Fascinated. Intrigued. Aware it could all blow up with the wrong touch.
“You have an instinct,” he said once, after you'd stopped a reaction from melting straight through the floor. “A certain edge.”
“You sound surprised,” you said quietly, not looking up.
He didn’t answer. But the corner of his mouth twitched—barely noticeable. If you hadn’t known him so well by now, you might have missed it.
Then came the night you stayed too late.
The experiment had gone sideways. The test subject : a hybrid strain had begun deteriorating too fast. You stayed past midnight to run diagnostics, your hands shaking from the cold and lack of sleep.
Singed didn’t tell you to go home. He just watched. Hovered.
“You don’t take care of yourself,” he said after a long silence.
You looked at him. The lab lights buzzed overhead, casting strange shadows. “Neither do you.”
That… made him smile.
Just barely.
You didn’t know what it meant.
Later, when the trial was done and the sample destroyed, you leaned back against the workbench, fingers stained with something you couldn’t quite name.
He stood near, not touching, but close enough to feel the weight of his presence.
“You know,” he said, voice quieter than usual, “this would not be possible without you.”
You turned your head to look at him. “Is that your version of gratitude?”
“It’s a fact,” he said. But there was something else in his tone. Something that made your skin prickle.
He reached out slowly—gloved fingers grazing the side of your neck, like checking your pulse. Scientific. Almost.
But not quite.
And in that silence, you realized something:
You had become part of the experiment.
Not the subject. Not quite the partner either. But something in between. Essential. Observed. Treasured, in a way that made your chest tighten.
And when he said softly, “Stay,” he didn’t mean for the night.
He meant for the work.
For the madness.
For whatever was slowly growing between you that had no name in science.
And you… didn’t say no because you wanted to stay with him.
A/N : First imagine I did on Singed. What do you think? Do u like it ?Have a good reading! A lot of love ! ❤️❤️❤️❤️ Would u like another one ?
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Today, after some time of sudden hyperfixation on Singed, I came up with a dark idea for Singed/OFC. Imagine that this is a headcanon on the topic "If you were in a slightly toxic relationship with Singed."
You are a young adult girl whom he accidentally found unconscious on the street of Zaun. Something about you made him turn around, pick you up and bring you to his place instead of passing by. When you woke up, it turned out that you had nowhere else to go. Then he cured you, kept you with him, and over time you began to help him with his research by running small errands.
You've grown closer over time. He even told you a little about his past and showed you his daughter. Also, the manifestations of your affection did not escape his gaze. It happened naturally and spontaneously: one day, sitting next to him, you just put your head on his shoulder. You asked if it was a surprise to him that you liked him. And he said no. Of course, he was trying to tell you that you should forget about your feelings for someone like him, and wondered why you chose him, old and covered with scars, rather than planning to find someone younger in the future. But he was lonely, and for some reason he also became attached to you, so he didn’t miss the chance. You started calling Singed by his real name, Corin.
You had an intimate relationship. Singed was either still capable of this, or he was taking some kind of drugs – after all, he is a chemist. However, he didn’t decide on this right away. After all, the long years without a partner had affected him. The first time you managed to convince him to sleep with you, he behaved in such a way that you felt like a sample for research on his table.
At first, he didn’t show you his face for a long time, constantly wearing his scarf, hiding his neck and lower part of his face, in front of you. But you convinced him to take it off. When he did this, you honestly told him that you didn't find his injuries beautiful or attractive. However, you didn't feel disgusted by him. You just didn't have a chance to kiss properly because he didn't have lips.
Gradually, he got a taste of intimate life, and you two began to try various practices. For example, for some reason, he liked it when you were rude to him and insulted him. However, one time his broken state after you overdid it brought you to tears yourself.
He didn't like it when you poked your nose too far into his past personal life. Once you touched on the topic of his ex-wife, Orianna's mother, who died a long time ago, and his daughter is all that he has left of her. Then he shut himself off from you for a while and responded quite harshly and coldly. You realized that you will never earn the love that his first woman received, and the path to some parts of his heart is firmly locked for you. He's hardened over time, so you won't have the same effect on him as if he were young, and you wouldn't be able to manipulate him even if you wanted to.
Of course, he told you to take birth control chemicals because he didn't want you to get pregnant. He told you that he’s too old and exhausted to become a father again and start a new young family. Orianna was enough for him as his child, and he was going to bring her back to life. Besides, he blamed himself for not being able to save her, and he couldn't bear the responsibility for the life of also your child with him. He also explained that he was worried about you, as you might be left alone with a child, die in childbirth, etc. He didn’t consider Zaun to be a safe place. Singed is just tired of life, too busy, has too many sins, and he doesn't need all this trouble with babies ever again in his life. Okay. The main thing about you for him is your company and the fact that you are nearby. That's enough for him, and it makes him happy.
But during one particularly difficult period, when you were experiencing complexes because of your position in his eyes, you decided that having children together would help you become a more significant and dearer person to him. Besides, you really wanted children. And you decided to deceive Singed saying that you take birth control pills, but stopped taking them in fact. So, you got pregnant.
After finding out about your pregnancy at a rather late stage, Singed performed a surgical abortion on you himself. And it was one of the worst things in your life. In the operating room, you saw him in a way you never expected. He was a completely different man, cold and stern, who laid out those awful instruments in front of you, prepared anesthesia injections and asked you to lie down on the operating bed. The one who was so close to you has turned into an emotionless doctor, wielding icy metal forceps and a curette inside you. At first, it seemed to you that you had resigned yourself, and you were obedient, so he was even somewhat gentle with you. But in the process, perhaps due to the effects of the anesthetic medication, your judgement became clouded and you started screaming and crying, ‘No, please don't do this! Don't touch my baby! Oh no, my baby...’. So Singed had to put you in a state of sleep. It became a traumatic experience for you and you never refused his medication again. As for Singed, he alone knows what was going on in his mind as the desperate voice of a failed mother who only wanted to save her child, which was also his own child at that, kept ringing in his head.
