#young benzo

[kikiiswashere]

Children of Zaun - Chapter 21

Pairing: Silco/Fem!OC

Rating: Explicit

Story Warnings: Canon typical violence, drug use/dealing, dark themes, smut

Chapter Summary: Katya teaches Silco the crawl. When they go their separate ways for the evening, each wishes they hadn't.

Special Note: Many, many thanks to @sand-sea-and-fable for being my swim expert and beta-ing that part of this chapter ❤️

Chapter CW: Masturbation and sex dreams, MDNI

Previous Chapter

Word Count: 8K

“Ya don’ think it sounds too threatening?” Vander asked, eyes glossing over the note again.

We are the Children of Zaun

Consider the coin the beginning of your reparations

We are the Children of Zaun

We are The Storm’s Fury

And we demand freedom.

“Sure makes a statement, doesn’ it?” Benzo said, glancing over his friend’s shoulder. He didn’t seem convinced either.

Silco stared at them from across Vander’s kitchen table, his fists gripping the back of a chair, cigarette dangling from his sneering lips.

“We are not going to ask nicely for our freedom. We are not going to ask for it at all.”

“’M not sayin’ we gotta go in with ‘pretty pleases’ n’ the like,” Vander sighed, setting the paper down. “’M just sayin’ is it wise to be so aggressive off the mark?”

“They are not going to believe that the airship crash was an accident. They are going to come at us with their teeth. They need to know we have our own,” Silco retorted. “That we won’t be pushed around any longer.”

His eyes went to the clock on the wall, and he pushed off the chair. Plucking the cigarette from his mouth, he crushed it into the ashtray at the table’s center.

“You goin’ somewhere?” Vander asked, eying the sudden movement.

“Kat wants to show me something. I’m supposed to go meet her.”

“Showin’ ya? What’s she showin’ ya?”

Silco averted his gaze as he said, “She’s going to teach me a few swimming strokes.”

Benzo guffawed. “Where? It’s bloody cold out.”

“Apparently there are some hot springs near those lagoons that kids like to play at. The ones between Zaun and Topside,” Silco explained blandly, going to gather his bag by the door. Katya had instructed him to pack a towel and dry change of clothes. “Besides, I need to give her the coin.”

At the top of their meeting, Silco had proposed the Children spare a negligible percentage of their recent treasure to Katya, so she could afford Viktor’s higher tuition rate for the upcoming semester. Vander and Benzo had agreed without a second thought.

Brothers and Sisters looked out for each other after all.

They all knew this would not be a long-term solution; and they all privately hoped that by the next time Viktor’s tuition fee came around, that their cause was far enough along that Piltover was agreeing to fully foot the bill.

Vander frowned. “Sil, I think we need to talk about this message some more. What if Piltover comes down hard on us?”

Silco slung his bag across his back, a hand patting protectively at the pocket that held the sack of gold.

“When have they ever come down easy on us? The only thing that will change is that they will now know there is a concentrated effort on getting their bootheels off us. Send the message.”

With that, he slipped out of the room. Benzo sighed and sat heavily next to Vander.

“What a fuckin’ prick.”

“He’s not wrong, I suppose,” Vander murmured, looking at the message. “No matter how we word it, Topside’ll still come after us. Best they know we’ll meet ‘em head on.”

His eyes drifted back to where Silco had been, his stomach knotting.

Silco stalked down the hall and through The Last Drop’s backdoor. He and Katya were meeting at the Bridgewaltz. The location was central enough, and made more sense than meeting at either of their homes.

When he arrived, it was mostly deserted. Which was to be expected in the early-afternoon; the Waltz did not burst to life until very late in the evening, Zaunites and Topsiders alike milling about the colorful streets taking in everything the Undercity had to offer: Crispy and well-spiced street food, boisterous musicians, and clever artisans with their unique wares.

But there was awhile before such nightly festivities began. Now, a few slow-moving, but dedicated, proprietors tended to the upkeep of their booths and stalls. A few Zaunites were hunched over tables or countertops, having fallen asleep the night before and had been deemed too troublesome to try and shoo away.

“Silco.”

He spun to see Katya strolling down a slim corridor of colorful awnings. She smiled brightly at him and adjusted the bag slung over her shoulder. His lips quirked and heart pattered at the sight of her; relieved and happy. Despite her invitation, he had been concerned that what had happened in the airship – how yet another thing did not go to plan – would scare her away from the Children. From him. But it had not, and he found himself inordinately relieved.

She wore her usual long, too-big charcoal coat and her hair fell loose around her shoulders. As she passed under a string of chem-bulbs, he noticed a flash of rosy gold undertones to her locks. He felt compelled to reach out to run his fingers through the strands to find that hue again.

Instead, he tightened the grip he had on his own bag, and nodded at her in greeting.

“Are you ready?” she asked, skirting around a vendor’s table to him.

“I believe so,” he said, jostling his pack. “Lead the way.”

They walked together through the Bridgewaltz, the winding alleys and gangways of the Lanes, and a short section of the Promenade before heading toward the Oases. The sun gleamed on the Promenade stones and the pair squinted against it as they traveled. Despite the brightness, the chill in the air was persistent, a promise of the cold season arriving shortly. A few shops they passed were even beginning the process of decorating for Snowdown. Business owners had threaded ribbons of gold and silver over window boxes and door lintels. A few storefronts boasted colorful paper garlands and delicate, star-shaped string lights. A few shop owners they passed were swapping details and ideas of impending holiday sales.

Before long, Katya led them down a steep rickety staircase that ended abruptly. She had always assumed that the builder had gotten fed up with trying to navigate and place the iron posts and steps over the uneven and sandy rocks, and had just given up halfway down the embankment. It would be easier and faster to travel down to the small rivulets that would lead to the Oases with Silco than it was with Viktor. She had nearly forgotten how quickly the landscape could be traversed. They walked along the bank of the largest tributary, mindful of the runoff trickling down from the sewer outlets that peppered the stone walls that rose above them.

“How did you learn about these hot springs?”

Katya shrugged. “My parents always took me to them. I do not know how they discovered them.”

As they neared the larger lagoons of the Oases, the sounds of screeching and laughing children overtook the noise of the gently running water. The pair spied a gaggle of scrawny Undercity youths scampering along the banks of the largest lagoon. It was too cold to swim, but that did not stop the children from investigating the shoreline, or skipping rocks. Katya was certain she spied a couple of Sevika’s sisters, but made no mention of it.

“This way,” she said as they approached a fork in the small river.

She veered right and Silco followed. The sandstone pressed in, narrowing the chasm they traveled, until a cave mouth yawned open and Silco took in this little secret of Zaun. The cavern itself did not seem particularly deep; the sun was able to illuminate most of the rocks and steaming, turquoise pools within the cave’s maw.

“Does anyone ever come here?”

Katya shook her head. “I have never seen anyone else here.”

She leapt down from a rock and stepped into the warm cave, swinging her sack from around her shoulders and dumping it to the ground. Silco remained at the mouth of the cavern, eying the glistening pools within apprehensively.

“It will be difficult to learn how to swim on dry land.”

Silco started, and looked down to Katya. She lifted her thick eyebrows and grinned at him.

“I won’t let you drown,” she said. “I promise.”

Silco returned her smile and followed her into the cave.

It was balmy. The heat of the water swirling around them in clouds of steam. The air smelled of the tang of minerals and wet sand. Katya knelt down and opened her sack, pulling out a large, fraying towel. She sat on it and began unlacing her boots. Silco began doing the same. When she stood, he looked up at her in slight confusion, but the question died on his tongue as she began unbuttoning her pants.

She noticed his wide-eyes and uncharacteristically stupefied face, and explained, “It will be easier to learn without soaked through clothes. Just in our underthings. Is that alright?”

Silco nodded. “Yes, that’s fine.”

He casually looked away as she slid the trousers down her legs. He felt a warmth blooming inside him that had nothing to do with the springs. He began to follow suit, writing off the tremor in his fingers as a need for a cigarette. When she shed her shirt, leaving her only clad in underwear, a camisole, and a brassiere, he bit the inside of his lip. He kicked his trousers off and stood, and unclasped the hooks that held his shirt in place before peeling it from his back. He tossed it next to his bag and tried to stand as nonchalantly as he could, dressed only in his thin undershorts. His pale skin was turning pink, and he prayed that she thought it was only because of the cave’s warmth and humidity.

Katya began braiding her hair, and glanced him over once. Twice. And then at his head.

“Would you like a hair tie?”

Silco’s hands flew to his lanky hair and pet at it. He looked to the water, and then back to Katya. “Will one help?”

She shrugged. “It might. Hold on.”

She bent over to dig through her bag, and despite everything inside him begging him not to, he eyed the curve of her wide hips and swell of her ass. She rose again and handed him a small elastic band.

“Here.”

He mumbled a thank you and began pulling his hair back as Katya headed to the nearest spring. She delicately jumped in, the water rippling and gently splashing around her body. A soft, pleased groan blew from her lips as her muscles were wrapped in warmth. The pool only came up to her chest and she dipped beneath the surface, wetting her hair. As she came back up, she wiped her bangs from her eyes, and looked back to the edge of the pool. Where Silco stood, waiting for instructions.

She noticed his slender body in a way she hadn’t during that initial physical. Slightly broad shoulders and chest that tapered to a very narrow waist; his muscle sat tightly against his bones, the cut and shape of them becoming more apparent as sweat and moisture collected on his skin. He had very little body hair. A small, light smattering across the planes of his chest and a thin line that began beneath his navel and disappeared under the waistline of his shorts. Her gaze lifted back to his face, the angles of his cheekbones and nose more apparent now that his dark hair was swept back into a messy knot. Lean, elegant, and magnetic she thought.

Beautiful.

Katya nearly choked at the word as it flashed through her mind. She played it off and jerked her head back, beckoning him.

“Come on. Hop in. The water is far better than the Pilt.”

Silco toed the pool’s lip for a moment more before jumping in. He created a larger wake than Katya did, and she laughed at the small waves that splashed at her.

“Sorry,” he chuckled, stepping forward, cutting his sinewy arms through the water.

Wiping the water from her eyes, she chuckled, “It is fine. I’m already wet anyway.”

Silco gave her an apologetic grin as his feet and toes squeezed and gripped the uneven rock beneath them, feeling the slight slick of algae that grew there. There were nerves coiling his stomach. He didn’t want to make a fool of himself. In general. And not in front of her.

“What’s first?” he asked, infusing his tone with a confident, blasé bravado.

“Well, since you can already not drown,” she cheekily said, “I figured we would just focus on a more efficient technique.”

First, Katya took him through a few arm and shoulder warm ups, and mobility exercises: instructing him through shoulder rolls, chest and back stretches. She mimed the crawl stroke she was preparing to teach him by throwing her arms into the air in controlled, alternating sweeps. He did his best to copy her. And to not feel foolish.

“Keep your arm in its socket,” she told him, stepping over and gently adjusting his right shoulder down, away from his ear. “Use the muscles in your back, not your ligaments and tendons, to reach and pull.”

She touched the muscles in the center of his upper back and at his sides in direction. Silco adjusted his technique.

“The arm that is drawing back, bend its elbow more,” she added as he mimed the movement again. “It is called the crawl, yes? Imagine that you actually pulling yourself through something. Like this.”

She turned her back to him and did the stroke into the air, making a point to exaggerate pulling back through her elbows. He watched the slight rotation of her wrists and hands as she went, as if she were pushing material out of the way. He watched the way her back muscles moved. How the band of her brassiere strained under her camisole.

Katya turned to face him again, and gestured for him to try. He obliged and she nodded at his technique. She then explained the breathing pattern for the crawl: to turn his head in the same direction the arm sweeping back.

“Both sides?”

“Typically, yes. But you may find it easier to just turn your head to your dominant side for now. You’ll get a feel for it once you start swimming. You use your left hand, yes?”

Something pleased fluttered inside Silco that she knew that. He nodded.

“Good. Now, I want you to use your arms like that and swim the length of this pool,” she said, walking over to one end.

Silco looked at her, then to the spring’s opposite end. It wasn’t too long; maybe forty feet.

Slowly, he waded across the pool to her side. She gave him an encouraging smile, and he rolled his shoulders before launching forward into the warm water. Shifting the movement he’d just learned to a horizontal position was harder than he anticipated. His arms didn’t feel as strong and his lower body kept sinking, despite kicking furiously. Every time he turned his head to breathe, not only did he get a mouthful of air, but water splashed in, too.

Finally, his fingers scraped against the ledge of the pool’s far side and he stood up, panting. He looked down at the ledge, and then turned to look at Katya at the other end of the pool. The water between them was frothing and choppy, but she gave him an encouraging smile.

“Not bad,” she called. “Now, come back.”

Silco heeded her instruction and attempted the crawl again as he swam back. He was huffing and puffing by the time he returned to Katya’s side.

“I don’t know why,” he gasped, “but I did not think it would be so tiring.”

She smirked up at him. “Swimming is a different beast from roof running. It probably doesn’t help that you smoke, either.”

He recalled her final comment that night he had shown her Zaun.

You shouldn’t smoke, anyway. It’s bad for you, too.

He slyly grinned back at her, and purred, “I am allowed a vice. Piltover has made life hellish enough to deny ourselves any small pleasures. I’m sure once I get this stroke down, I’ll swim just as fast as you. Perhaps faster – “

Katya snorted, throwing her head back. “That sounds like a challenge.”

Silco shrugged cockily before diving back into the water and practicing again. After a few more laps, he began to get a better handle of how to move his arms and neck, his stroke pattern becoming smoother, surer. Slowly, he began cutting through the water instead of splashing against it.

“Very good,” Katya congratulated once he returned to her side again. “I think it is time to talk about hips and legs.” She turned to the pool’s edge and placed her hands on a relatively level slab of rock. “One of the reasons your lower half is sinking is because you are kicking too much with your knees. You will swim faster and more efficiently if you keep your legs straighter and kick from your hips.”

She kept her hands on the rock, and allowed the rest of her body to float up in the water. Her rear breached the surface, and Silco fought not to stare. She made a point to flex and straighten her shapely legs and kicked. Despite the movement, very little water was splashed up. Silco scooted down the edge of the rock a bit to find his own level piece. Once he was set up, he kicked his lower half up to the surface. Very ungracefully. His jaw squeezed and brow furrowed as he did his best to lengthen his legs taut and access his hips.

“It is a balance,” Katya explained, stepping over to him. “Straight legs, yes. But allow there to be a little give in your knees so that they remain soft.”

“So keep my legs straight. But don’t keep my legs straight.”

Katya smirked and shrugged. “Viktor can do it. And his bones are warped. I’m sure you’ll figure it out.”

Silco huffed and tried again. It was challenging, but eventually he got it enough that Katya didn’t need to keep reminding him.

“Do not swish your hips so much,” she said, reaching out and gently touched the top of his hipbone.

The feeling of her fingertips on him caused Silco to jolt and stop swimming. He spun to look at her.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” she gasped, hand pulling back. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”

“It’s okay. I just – I just wasn’t expecting it.” He smiled reassuringly at her. “What did you say?”

“You are rotating through your hips too much. It’ll make you tired. Keep your hips steady. The rotation comes from your back. Remember? From the crawl stroke itself.”

Silco tried again, imagining that an iron beam holding his hips in place. A couple times, Katya reminded him to keep his knees and feet a touch softer. As she watched him, her eyes squinted and she brought the tips of her fingers to her temple.

“What?” he asked, pausing to catching his breath.

“I am trying to think of another way to explain,” she sighed. “Have you ever seen people on the Promenade ride . . . I think they are called Bi-sickles, or something? A metal frame with two wheels on either end?”

“Bicycles. Yeah. I’ve seen them.”

“Okay, well, the leg movement is not dissimilar. Steady hips, strong glutes and thighs propelling the motion, but some soft give from the knees down. Does that make sense?”

Silco pondered for a moment, thinking on the Topside youths he’d seen racing their toys through the Promenade streets. He recalled how their legs pumped their mode of transportation, strong and efficient strokes that powered the bicycle to impressive speeds. He nodded and tried again.

After several minutes, she suggested he put the two together and try swimming another few laps of the pool. Silco rolled his shoulders and shook his legs out a bit before venturing back into the middle of the water and piecing together what he had learned.

Just as before, it took him a couple laps to achieve smooth movements. Once he found a rhythm, he felt like a harpoon slicing through the water, especially compared to how he felt in the Pilt a few days ago. After his tenth lap, he stopped for a break at the far end and turned to look at Katya. His heart tapped firmly against his breastbone to see her beaming at him. Her skin was glistening from the warmth and water, her cheeks rosy. He didn’t think he’d ever seen her so pleased or carefree, and he was excited to think he was the source of her happiness in that moment.

Suddenly, Katya leapt forward and swam towards him, streaking through the water like a waverider. He hadn’t really paid attention the night they jumped from the airship, but she moved seamlessly – as if she became one with the water. It didn’t froth around her limbs, just rippled in smooth wakes. It seemed as easy as breathing for her. Despite the improvements he had made to his own abilities, he knew he floundered like a beached fish in comparison.

She appeared at his side, that sun-bright smile still on her face.

“Race?”

Silco stared at her for a moment, his eyes glancing down to her smile, then his own split across his face. He couldn’t remember the last time he had ‘played’ – had had unproductive fun. He was sure Katya felt the same.

“Prepare to eat my wake, Kat.”

Katya did not eat Silco’s wake. Quite the opposite. He struggled to keep up, but laughed at his own ineptitude in the water. Although, the more and more laps they swam, the surer in his skills he became. Katya told him his slight build would work to his advantage, something he quietly preened at because he never considered his physicality being an advantage for much.

Eventually they tired, and lifted themselves from the pool. They spread their towels over the cave floor and sat, allowing their bodies to rest and dry off. Silco did his best to avoid staring at Katya, at the way her wet clothes had sheered from the water and now clung to her body. A heat that had nothing to do with the hot springs spread through him.

To distract himself, he fished an apple and a small knife from his bag. He cut a slice and handed it to her. Katya stared at the offering for a moment, stunned, before taking it.

“Thank you,” she mumbled, because that it what you said when someone gave you something.

Unsettled warmth bloomed across her chest as she bit down on it in a satisfying crunch. It had been a long while since she had had a bite of apple. It had been a long while that someone had provided for her. She wondered if she would ever get used to being thought of, sought after, taken care of, considered. Silco’s companionship felt as much of a treat like this apple.

The fruit was crisp, juicy, and sweet against her tongue. As it broke down in her mouth, and the sweet sparked into surprising notes of tangy sour, compulsory sadness curled in her stomach; that her experience of the treat was nearing its end. Then her eyes fell onto the fruit by Silco’s pointed knee, and realized she could have more. That one bite was only the first. Her mouth watered and stomach rumbled.

“I brought some bread, too. One of mum’s reject loaves.”

Katya’s eyes flicked up to his face. Why had she gone so long denying herself of company? Denying her own needs? Pointedly skirting the care and lives of others? If she had kept to her solitary way, she would not have this apple, this bread. This man, and his caring mother.

“How is she?”

Silco’s nostrils curled. He cut his own slice of apple and ate it. He shrugged.

“Like she said, it always gets bad this time of year.”

Katya’s eyes softened, empathy and sadness leaching out the joy that had lit them up.

“She is probably due for another vial of medicine,” she said. “I will grab one when I am at the clinic.”

Silco gave her a weak smile and retrieved the lumpy loaf of bread from his bag. He tore a piece off and handed it to her. She took it and held it in her hands, thinking of how she might smooth out the lines that had appeared on Silco’s face at the mention of Enyd. How she might dampen the small flame of ire that had appeared in his eyes, and rekindle the joy that had been there earlier.

“I am glad I got to show you this place,” she decided on, looking up at the stalactites on the cave’s ceiling. “As grateful as I am that only Viktor and I seem to be the ones to ever come here, it’s so beautiful that I feel badly for it that so few people visit. Know about it.”

Silco hummed, biting down on a piece of bread and looking around at the cave. It’s towers and divots. At the lush moss and algae that collected at its mouth, and hung down from its opening like a shredded curtain.

“This is where your parents taught you how to swim?”

Katya shook her head. “No. I learned in the Oases. Like a lot of the children do now. When it came time to teach Viktor, his body did not handle the cool water well, so Papa taught him here. Being in the water also helps relieve some of the chronic aches he has in his body.”

“How did your father find this place?” Silco asked, looking around again.

“I never thought to ask. I wish I had now. He used to talk about taking me and Viktor out on a boat someday. To explore the Conqueror’s Sea.”

“It sounds like he had an affinity for water.”

Katya chuckled and took a bite of bread. “I suppose he did, now that you mention it. One of the books he would read to us most frequently had to do with ocean life. Various habitats, animal and plant life – that sort of thing.” She laughed and said, “My favorite chapter was about the deep sea, and all the monstrous creatures down there. It sort of reminded me of the Undercity. I found it fascinating, but I don’t think Viktor did.”

“How come?”

She shrugged. “He is more interested in building and creating things. He preferred when Papa read about inventions and why they worked. Engineering and chemistry and physics, and those sorts of things. Biology never grabbed him as tightly.”

“But it did you?” Silco asked, taking his knife to the apple again and slicing it twice. He handed one piece to her, and placed his own on his tongue.

Katya shrugged again and bit thoughtfully into the apple’s flesh, Silco’s eyes flicking down to her mouth as she did.

“I do find it interesting,” she said around the fruit in her mouth. “It certainly has served me well with my role at the clinic. And with caring for Viktor. And like I told you, I think I would like to become a doctor once Zaun is free. Once we have the ability to manage such things.”

“That reminds me,” Silco gasped, reaching for his bag. His hand gripped the small satchel of gold within and he drew it out. “Vander and I wanted you to have some of the coin from the airship job. To help with Viktor’s tuition next semester.”

He handed her the purse, and she slowly took it. Her eyes glossed over and became distant as she uncinched the bag’s mouth and peered inside. Gold glittered up at her. Katya sniffed and her throat squeezed tightly. She looked back up at him, and her heart cracked at the soft – almost adoring – smile on his face. She opened her mouth to thank him, but all that came out was a teary choke. Silco scooted over and wrapped his arm around her.

“I got you.”

Katya’s voice failed her again, and she simply leaned against him. She curled against his side; her face pressed into his neck. She nodded against it, overwhelmed and humbled by the sense of gratitude. Her body alight with the feeling of belonging. She felt treasured and valued.

She wasn’t able to speak, but as she closed her eyes and felt Silco’s jugular pulse against her cheek, she thought You have me.

Eventually, when the sun began to fade, they toweled off and redressed, preparing to head home. Katya wrapped the small bag of gold in her towel and shoved it deep within her sack. Despite the extra weight on her back, her heart felt easeful and light. The children that had been at the Oases were gone. Headed home for supper, or for work, or to nothing at all. Silco and Katya hopped onto the bottom step of the incomplete staircase and headed back into Zaun.

The Bridgewaltz was just beginning to brighten and stretch into its evening routine. The chem-bulbs above twinkled various colors, casting rainbow splotches on the pavement and across scattered tables and chairs. A few of the food stalls and kiosks already had customers gnawing at kebabs and drinking whatever brew was offered; the passed-out people Silco and Katya had seen earlier had since woken up and staggered off.

“Would you like me to walk you home?” Silco asked, as they came to a stop.

Katya looked up at him, voice stuck in her throat. The shadows and light did mesmerizing things to the angles of his face, and his pale eyes reflected the flickering magenta, orange, and green lights above.

Would she like? Would she want?

“That’s okay,” she finally answered. Her stomach curled in displeasure at her own words. “You should get home and check on your mother.”

Silco smiled and nodded. He ignored the pang of disappointment that flicked at his heart.

“Right, then,” he said, adjusting his bag. “I’ll see you soon. Yeah?”

Katya beamed up at him. Her milk-colored skin glowed in the colorful light, and Silco’s fingers twitched, fighting the urge to run them down her cheek.

“Yes. I will see you soon.”

“Thank you again for the lessons. For today.”

Something open, vulnerable, and wanting cracked behind Katya’s ribs, and she closed the distance between them, wrapping Silco in a tight embrace. He returned it with an immediacy that left his mind reeling and surprised. She felt warm and solid – not unlike that dream he had had the night he’d fought the enforcers. Turning his head slightly, he nestled his nose into the crook of her neck. The smell of brine, minerals, and warmth from the Springs was stuck to her.

“Thank you for today,” she whispered. “And for everything else.”

Katya gave him one last squeeze and drew back. Silco followed suit, his heart hammering against his chest.

“Walk home safe, Kat.”

“You, too.”

Silco watched her for a moment, before turning himself and walking home.

When he arrived at his and his mother’s apartment, it was quiet except for the warm, prickling drone of the phonograph needle swirling on a record that had finished playing. A singular light from the living room bled into the front hall. Silco quietly removed his boots, and set down his sack by the door before venturing further.

“Mum?” he called quietly, stepping into the living room.

Enyd was propped up in her rocking chair, a sewing project in her lap, her head lolled onto one shoulder, eyes closed. Her breath came in soft, long wheezes as she slept. Silco smiled tenderly at the sight and tip-toed to the phonograph, gently resetting the needle in its bed.

“Mum,” he said again, walking over and placing a hand on her shoulder. “Mum.”

Enyd gently started under his touch and blinked awake.

“Wha? – Oh, Silco. You’re home. I – I didn’t realize that I fell asleep.”

She adjusted in her seat, the chair rocking slightly with her movement, and she peered down at the bundle of thread and fabric in her lap. An amused huff blew from her lips at the sight, and a string of dry coughs followed it. When they passed, she straightened her shoulders and looked up at her son with watery eyes.

“How did it go today?”

“It went well. Kat’s a good teacher. It was nice. Spending time with her. Mum, why don’t you go to bed if you’re tired?”

Enyd batted away his concern with a flick of her thin wrist. “I’m fine. I want to get this done before I turn in anyhow.” She gestured to the sewing project in her lap. “Would you mind starting the record again?”

Silco turned back to the phonograph and reset the needle. Soft, warbly music echoed from the soundhorn and Enyd hummed appreciatively, lifting the needle and thread back up to the light.

“I’m going to take a shower. Do you need anything?”

His mother shook her head. She smiled at him, and said, “I’m glad you got to do something light today. Fun. Joyful.”

Silco’s insides squeezed – with what, he wasn’t entirely certain – and softly smiled in agreement.

“Me too.”

With that, he headed to his bedroom, grabbed his pajamas, and then locked himself up in the bathroom. He turned the water in the tub on, holding one hand under the faucet, waiting for it to turn warm. When it did, he was surprised that he could feel the difference between this warm water and the stuff he’d been swimming in a few hours prior. He didn’t know water could feel different. Pulling the tee diverter, the shower head rumbled and spat to life. He quickly divested himself of his clothes; surprised when a flash of Kat in her wet underthings flickered in his mind. He swallowed, tossed the clothes into the hamper by the toilet, and stepped into the shower.

The warm water sluiced over his frame in vaguely relaxing rivulets. The sensation paled in comparison to the heat and comfort he’d found in the Springs. He’d found in the excited, pleased beam of Kat’s smile. Silco ran his fingers through his hair, unraveling any snags and snares he found. He closed his eyes as water ran down his face. The image behind his eyelids was that of Kat standing in the shallow end of the pool, water to her knees, her underwear, camisole, and brassiere wet and sticking to her body. Her skin glowed and shone with the warm mist of the cave. Silco sighed, and finally allowed himself to ruminate on what he’d seen while he lathered himself up with soap.

Like many trenchers, Katya’s body hungered, but it hadn’t kept her hips and breasts from filling out. His mind’s eye roved over her legs. Stopped, and stared at where her thighs thickened into the swell of her hips and ass. Salivated at how the damp sheerness of her underwear had allowed the suggestion of curls at the crux of her thighs –

Silco gasped as he brought the soap to his groin, and found himself half-hard. Balls beginning to lift and ache. For a moment, he considered turning the water to ice cold, to put a stop to this. But his hand made a cursory sweep down his length and the space behind his navel tightened with anticipation. With a plead.

Silco’s imagination took creative license, and the Kat behind his eyes shifted her expression to something sultrier. Hungrier. Her lashes sat low over her golden eyes – those mesmerizing gold eyes. Silco braced one hand against the shower wall, while the other took hold of him in earnest. Kat bit just the inside of her lower lip, and Silco worked himself to full hardness in steady strokes.

His mind’s eye traveled up the length of her torso, wondering what it would be like to touch (taste?) the delicate flesh that ebbed and flowed into that beautiful hourglass shape. Her breasts – their details and shape brought into stark relief by the wet, clingy fabric – were devastatingly heavy and ample. Her nipples had puckered and lifted. He wanted to touch them. Roll them into impossibly tight, pebbled peaks between his fingers. And then suck and bite at them. How she would writhe beneath his attention –

Silco’s breath hitched as a callous on his palm caught along his frenulum. He bit back a groan, grateful for the noise of the shower and the record playing in the other room. Despite those buffers, he choked back any vocalization that threatened to give him away.

The promising lift behind his navel was intensifying – little shimmers of pleasure licking up his spine. The squeeze of his pumping hand tightened, and the one bracing against the shower wall collapsed to its forearm. Silco’s forehead pressed against the meat of it. His eyes clamped shut as his mind shifted, giving form to tamped down fantasies and maddening questions.

What would those plush thighs feel like wrapped around his waist? Kat’s heels pressing into his tailbone as he fucked her –

A whimper vibrated off his lips. Despite the water, he could tell that his cock was leaking all over his hand.

How would she feel wrapped around him? Glorious, he knew. His fist would never be able to compare. Warm, soft, and slick. And tight. Would they fit together like puzzle pieces?

How would she look beneath him? On top of him? Looking over her shoulder at him? He imagined her mouth hanging open – her dusty pink lips turned red and kiss-swollen. Her intense, expressive brows pitching up in elation as she hurtled toward her release. Pleasure he’d brought her –

Silco’s hips bucked into his hand as his own climax neared. Those little laps and zips of pleasure he’d felt earlier grew into spine arching, toe curling flames as his fist became a blur around his cock.

How would Kat sound? How would that rolling, molasses-sweet accent sound in the throes of ecstasy? Would she mutter in her mother-tongue? Chant his name? Look him in the eye and say “You have me”? –

“Kat!” Silco rasped, unable to keep her name behind his teeth. And he came. Strong, pulsing spurts onto the shower wall that were promptly washed away by the water’s spray. His hand worked himself through each throb of his orgasm, until his body felt blissfully heavy on his skeleton and he leaned against the wall.

He stood there for a moment, the water beating against his back; residual glimmers of ecstasy shivering up and down his spine. He huffed and puffed, heart hammering and lungs swinging. He placed his left hand on his chest, and felt the steady percussive, beat within.

As the gooey, post-orgasm feeling draped over his body, Silco finished cleaning himself. And made a point to make sure the wall and floor of the shower was clean of any ‘sign’ of him, too. He dried off, dressed, brushed his teeth, and went to bed. All the while thinking on what he had done, and whom he’d thought of.

Lying in bed, staring at the ceiling – one hand on his heart; the other tossed over his head – a lonely, wanting, foreign ache pressed into him. The sensation eased as he drifted to sleep and dreamt that Kat was curled against his side.

Katya glided through the dark, star-lit water of her dreamscape. Smooth, warm, and malleable. Like liquid glass. A few easy frog strokes propelled her forward, the water rippling gently. She wondered if she’d ever reach an edge here, if there would ever be something to grab hold of. Something to rest against, in case she ever tired.

“Kat.”

She gasped and sputtered. The water splashed as she spun. She’d never heard anything but her own breath here. The sound of her own body in the water. But now, a few feet behind her, there was a pale figure with lank dark hair and piercing blue eyes.

“Silco?”

He smiled at her. She realized how endearing – almost awkward – the fullness of it made him look. In life, he’d only ever smirked or grinned at her. Expressions that kept his coolness and distant persona intact, kept him at arm’s length from most people.

Now, he was beaming at her, and she was enthralled.

He paddled toward her. “Shall we?”

Katya blinked at him, and then she smiled in return. Laughing, they pressed forward into the endless space. Silco swam just about as well as he had at the Springs – not with the best form, water splattering about him. But neither cared. They moved together, Silco splashing at Katya; Katya dodging his sprays by elegantly flowing around him. Eventually, they tired enough to slow their pace, lazily floating along the surface. The stars sparkled and winked above them.

“Kat.”

This time he said her name softer, his tone lifting as if in question.

Katya stopped, her arms and legs barely needing to tread water to keep her upright. She looked at him, tilting her head in equal curiosity. He fixed her with an intense, earnest look that held her in place. An enticing heat banked behind his eyes, and he closed the small distance between them. One of his hands slipped up from the water and gently cradled her cheek. The etheric nature of the dreamscape made his touch feel ghost-like, a whisper of how his hand had felt in hers, but it made Katya’s breath hitch all the same. His thumb gently pressed against the beauty mark under her eye and dragged down. His blue eyes left her gold ones to flit down to her lips, and then back up. The look, the touch, sent a blaze through her body. As if her insides were a smoldering fire, and he was a great gust of wind, igniting her in a mighty WHOOSH!

Katya’s fiery heart thundered wildly in her chest as she leaned forward and kissed him. The hand on her cheek wrapped to hold the nape of her neck, and Silco’s other hand wound around her waist, drawing her flush against him. She gripped his shoulders and pressed her mouth more firmly against his, annoyed that the sensation of him was gauzy. She wanted to feel him, taste him.

She tilted her head and slid her tongue along the seam of his lips, pleading for access; hoping it would give her something more solid to experience. Silco obliged, his own tongue melding against hers. Katya squeezed her eyes tight as their tongues, teeth, and lips hungrily explored each other. For too brief of a moment, she thought she could taste cigarettes, thought she could smell that citrus tang and deep terra scent that had been on that shirt he’d given her.

Silco surged forward, his kisses a strange combination of intense and distant. Katya gripped at him, fingers digging into the slick and firm muscles of his shoulders and back. She gasped when her own backside pressed against something solid. Somehow, for the first time, she was able to feel an edge to this dreamworld. She couldn’t see it, only feel it. Silco’s right hand pressed into the starry surface next to her head, his breath a mere suggestion against her warm, damp skin. He leaned forward, his lips brushing against hers, the blade of his nose caressing her cheek. The inferno within Katya’s belly blazed for him. Her body ached, breasts heavy and heaving, core throbbing.

“Kat,” Silco breathed, pressing against her.

“Yes.” Katya’s breath came in shaky, pleading huffs.

Her legs lifted in the water and wrapped around his hips, drawing him closer. There was a probing pressure at her aching center and a desperate, excited cry pealed from her throat.

The exclamation woke Katya up. She jerked awake in her bed, back arching, breathing erratic. Initially, she was confused, borderline distraught. As her vision cleared and she took in the dark, empty space of her bedroom, she understood what had happened.

She was home.

Alone.

Disappointment settled in her stomach, lead-heavy and cold. Despite this, the ache between her thighs persisted; annoyed at being left unattended.

Katya steeled her jaw and turned onto her side, eyes closing, determined to just go to bed. She would inspect that dream in the morning. Or maybe she wouldn’t. It was only a dream after all.

However, her body refused to fall into stillness and slumber. Her mind swam with images and sense-memories of Silco. His intense gaze, low, syrupy voice; his lithe frame, how his hands had felt in hers, how his hands might feel on her body. Holding her in place, exploring . . .

Katya grunted and turned again, her core reverberating with a nearly painful, needy pulse. Her nipples were pointed and tight beneath the shirt she wore. His shirt. She laid still for a moment, considering. Finally, her fingers skirted across the gusset of her underwear in an exploratory swipe. Her body shuddered at the light touch and she gasped to find the garment soaked.

She decided to not think too hard about it, nor deny her bodily desire any longer. In quick, furious movements, she stripped her underwear down her legs and kicked them off, sending them somewhere deep within the folds of her blanket. Her hand was quick to cup herself, and an intense and relieved sound was pressed out of her lungs.

Her hips lifted into the heel of her hand as her index and middle fingers swiped lightly through her slit, gathering and coating them in her arousal. Slowly, she dipped them inside. A gasp left her, her back arched, her free hand reached for the pillow above her head and gripped it tightly. She was overwhelmed by how warm, wet, and ready she felt. Burying her fingers inside her felt relieving and maddening. Her body grateful that it was being touched, but desperately wanting more. Needing release.

Her fingers began to pump in and out, the heel of her hand trying to rub against her clit. Pleasure ebbed and swelled inside her, promising tickles fluttering behind her navel, up and down her spine. Images flashing through her mind provided titillating inspiration that drove her further and further into carnal need.

The shape of Silco’s member; she’d sneaked a peek of him when his shorts were wet and clinging to it earlier that day. Her fingers couldn’t compare.

The way Silco’s muscles moved over his body as he swam.

Silco’s head between her thighs, those piercing eyes watching her intently.

Silco’s hands grabbing needily at her thighs and hips as he rut against her.

 Katya’s body shook hopefully at the thought, her fingers pumping faster, the heel of her hand desperately wriggling against her apex. A whimper trickled from her mouth between ragged breaths. Despite the pleasure building within her, entangling her low spine in teasing tendrils, she needed more. The hand gripping the pillow snaked itself under her shirt, squeezing and pinching at the peak of her breast. A hiss whistled through her clenched teeth, her body writhing.

It wasn’t enough.

She rolled onto her stomach, pinning the hand working at her between her soaked sex and the mattress. Her hips humped and ground into her palm. The position, aided by her weight and gravity, offered deeper, sweeter sensations the ability to curl and build. Katya gasped and cried into the pillow, her legs propelling her hips into her hand hurriedly, the movement not dissimilar to the firelight swim stroke.

“Si – Sil – “

Katya’s breath hitched into a new tempo as her body rapidly approached the peak of her climax. Her toes curled, the soles of her feet flexing in anticipation; thighs and hips quivering.

“P-please. Oh, Gods. S – “

She moaned loudly into her pillow as she crested her release; hips pulsing and grinding over her hand of their own volition, chasing her high, squeezing every last drop of pleasure out of it. Eventually the sensation ebbed away, leaving Katya wrung out, and panting. Slowly, she withdrew her hand from herself and carefully stretched her legs out, rocking her hips side-to-side experimentally.

While she felt satisfied on an animalistic level, as the heavy blanket of sleep began to lay over her, the feeling of loneliness crept back in. Into her chest. Into her bed.

The sleep she was granted was dreamless.

Notes: Ahhhhh! These crazy, pining kids! When will they *actually* make it happen?? Soon hopefully 😈 I hope you enjoyed the start of some smutty-smut! I was really happy to finally get to this point in the story 😅 What do you think? Let me know your thoughts! Please comment and reblog ❤️ Til next time, my sweets!

Coming Up Next: Piltover's answer to the Children's declaration, Zaun prepares for the Snowdown holidays, and Kells attempts a monsterous act.

Next Chapter

Taglist: @pinkrose1422 @dreamyonahill @sand-sea-and-fable @truthandadare @altered-delta

If you're interested in being added to the taglist, just message me 😘

#children of zaun #coz #arcane #arcane fanfic #silco #vander #benzo #young silco #young vander #young benzo #original character #silco x oc #silco x katya #silkat #smut #mdni #silco fanfic

[immortalbumblebee]

Chapter 17: Corrosion

I'M SORRY THIS TOOK LIKE 5 MONTHS!!! Tbh this was probably the hardest chapter I've had to write thus far and it was just not working with me. But honestly combined with the new Warwick trailer, and the amount of people flooding into my account and mass-reading my stuff lately??? Thank you so much for the motivation y'all, it really means a lot <3

So without further ago, have this 3k word chapter!

Masterlist

It had taken nearly an hour just to settle the crowds once the officers had left. An entire mob of people, suddenly panicked and in need of a level head to tell them what to do and how to feel. So, by the time Benzo was actually able to walk into the backroom of the arena, the anger that coursed through his veins had (somewhat) been able to cool down, no longer quite boiling over. Now replaced by anxiety that fought with his typically cool-headed mind that was trying to remind him to be rational. The pain in his side wasn’t helping none, of course. His lungs were already shite, but that Enforcer slamming the butt of his gun into his ribs hurt like a bitch… He took a deep, calming breath, ignoring the burning protest of his lungs.

Emotions are never good for business.

“They’ve gone too far this time.” Silco spat, slamming the door as he entered the room behind Benzo. “I mean, storming in here like they own the place, waving their guns around? That’s a new low, even for them.”

“And Min?” Benzo asked, sliding a hand through his thin brown hair, urging his breathing to remain even. Silco nodded, waving his hand as if she were an additional afterthought. Benzo thought about Min getting arrested, the way they threw her to the ground like she was nothing, and suddenly he felt the need to slap Silco upside the head. Bigger fish, he reminded himself. “They’ve never made this much of a show for an arrest before. Grayson knows we’re important down here, and now she’s aiming to take us out of commission.”

“Min’s been arrested just as many times as the rest of us.” Silco argued. “She's strong, she can handle it. Standard protocol; get some bail money together, we run down to the station at first light-” “Are you seriously that petty?” Benzo stepped forward, facing Silco face-on. His tone was careful but carried a weight to it. “This was a godsdamn army, for what? Arresting one lass? This goes beyond your  fucking ‘protocol’!” 

Silco stepped up, meeting Benzo eye-to-eye. Benzo could see the anger in his eyes, flames of passion, he knew the look well amongst his fellow Zaunite revolutionaries. He only wished that he could believe that any of those flames burned for their missing sister-in-arms, but that would be expecting him to put his own anger aside for the good of the cause, for the good of others. And Benzo knew that wasn’t about to happen. 

Taking a deep, attempting-to-be-calming breath, Benzo disengages from Silco’s fury, centring back his focus to address both of them. Noting Vander was still silent, glaring the same hole into the ground.

For fuck’s sake, he thought to himself. 

“You two are the fucking leaders here, aye?” Benzo barked. “So where’s yer fucking plan of attack? What do we do? We’re gonna break her out, right?”

Silco’s the one to speak up, of course, shaking his head aggressively. “Are you kidding me? If we’re caught anywhere near top-side, we’re landing ourselves in a cell right next to her. We’re too conspicuous, too high-profile, and Grayson obviously has her eye on us.” Benzo made a move to fight against Silco, but Vander finally chooses to speak up.

“He’s right. We go running in after her, even all the cogs in the world won’t be able to pay her way out. Odds are, we get clinked too. Then what good are we?”

“Oh give your head a shake!” Benzo exclaims. “We could fucking try!”

Vander’s jaw tenses. “This isn’t a ‘run in half-cocked’ sort of deal.”  Bento scoffs, eyes practically rolling out of his head.

“So…what? We can do…nothing, then? Is that right?”

Vander takes a deep breath, closing his eyes as if he’s focussing on his breath. “Nope. But I think I know who can.”

***

It’s rather unfortunate that, out of all the things you could have inherited from your mother, the recurring habit of getting arrested was one of the more notable.

Also unfortunate that cops are capable of learning.

“Minerva!” Grayson’s voice, practically spitting out your name, had caught you off guard. Your eyes glazed over, looking off to the side. From your spot, seated on the ground with your captured hands sticking out awkwardly in front of you, most of her face hidden by shadows. All the light filtered in through the barred window on the door to your cell, a torch light. The cell was completely lightless, almost a pit of darkness. Dank, dark, and too quiet to be peaceful. But what you could make out from her appearance, you could see wrinkles formed between her eyebrows and a deep sneer. 

“Sorry Commander, I must have dozed off there for a moment.” You finally responded. “Welcome to my humble abode! I’d offer you a drink, but I’m a little…tied up, at the moment.” You lifted your hands, ignoring the cramped feelings in your muscles and joints. The thick metal that encased your hands wore you down, like holding a weight you had no consent in holding, and no ability to put down. 

She didn’t respond to your jest, simply continuing to stare down at you, face like stone but the underlying disgust ever-present. Tough crowd.

“The counsel has been sent the details of your case and are currently discussing further actions.” She explains. “But it’s customary that someone speak with you directly before any major decisions are made.”

“Gonna be a short conversation,” you note, “y’know, on account of the fact that I’ve done nothing wrong. But I suppose everytime something bad happens, us ‘fissure folk’ are to blame, huh?”

She moves on, as if she doesn’t even hear you. “Your nose looks like it hurts.” She notes. Her shoulders are less square than you’ve seen them before, she’s more comfortable here than when you’ve seen her in the Underground. Although you’ve seen her without her helmet before, notably at the apartment when she first introduced herself, seeing her whole face here felt…oddly personal. 

You twitch your nose, feeling the dull pain spike between your eyes. “Pretty, ain’t it?”

“Wanna tell me about the girl who did it? Looked to be a girl by the name of…” she looks down at a file you hadn’t realized she was holding. “Sevika, right?”

Your eyes glance down at the file. Just how many names did they have? “I don’t know, it’s all a little…fuzzy to me. Pretty sure it could have been one of your guys, you know, when they forced me onto the ground and locked up my hands without probable cause.” 

She looks back down at you, eyes cold and unamused. “Are we really going to do this?”

“Do what?” She closes the file and reaches into her pocket. Pulling something out, she shows it off to you with an extended arm. 

“Look familiar?” It’s hard to make out what she’s showing you at first, but slowly you work out the details. A piece of fabric, red cotton. It was wrinkled and stained beyond saving, but there was a darker, fresher stain around most of it that hadn’t been there last you had it. Of course it was familiar, you’d been wearing it-or ones like it-most of your time in the lanes. The bandana that used to be a staple of your wardrobe, now bloody and in the hands of the Chief of Enforcers. 

Your mind flashes to the job just a couple weeks ago, when you’d left the fabric tied around the thigh of that Enforcer you’d attacked. You can feel your heartbeat raise ever so slightly. There’s no way they could have actually linked you to the crime with just your bandana.

“Nope.”

“Really? Cause in all of your mugshots, you’re wearing one just like it in your hair.” She pockets the fabric again. “I notice you’re not wearing one now. Lose it recently?”

You shrug, tilting your head back. “Is changing hairstyles a crime now? I’ll have to let my salon know.”

“Can you account for your whereabouts from three nights ago?”

“You’ll have to ask your mother, I believe I was at her house.”

She rolls her eyes and takes a long, deep sigh. “Minerva,” her tone is calm, but irritable. Like she was scolding a small child. 

You mimic her, rolling your eyes as well, but significantly more dramatic. “Grayson.”

“I am aware that you and your…compatriots may be used to certain lax standards. But I can assure you that physically assaulting one of my officers is not something I intend to easily brush under the rug.” Your hands attempt to fidget within their constraints, your bones buzzing with the need to move them. “I know the man you hurt, he's a good officer. He has a family, a wife and child. Are you really going to allow your anger to blind you so much that you’re willing to take away a child’s father?”

You lean forward, the chains rattling with your movements. “Several of the people your officers pointed a gun at tonight have families too. Those ‘good officers’ you have, they attack and aim firearms at women and children on a daily basis.” Gone was your mocking tone, your light-hearted facade. “You attack our people in our streets, in our businesses, in our homes. But hey, it’s different right? We’re all just fissure-folk trash to you.”

“And that justifies you nearly killing one of my men?” 

You kill hundreds of ours.

Your jaw tightens, biting your tongue. She’s not going to goat you into a confession that easily.

“I didn’t touch ‘your man’.” You finally respond, sitting back against the wall. “And if all you brought me in for was some half-baked story built around a piece of red cloth…well, it’s good to see you’re just as incompetent as your predecessor.”

The room falls silent, both of you glaring daggers at each other. You swear the room grows colder, the cold stone walls looming over you more and more with every passing, silent moment. You tried so hard to focus on the woman in front of you. Maybe if you were more aware, better able to scan her and read her body language, you could find something on her. Find something that you could use against her. But all you could focus on was your bones burning with the urge to use your powers, fanned on by the anger that’s coursing through you. You needed to get out of these damn constraints!

The door to your cell opened again, and another officer poked his head in. This one was much younger, and clearly very nervous. Twitchy eyes looked over from you, to his superior, just as Grayson’s head snapped back to glare at him.

“I gave orders that we weren’t to be disturbed.” Grayson snarled, and you could see the officer practically jump out of his skin in fear.

“Um…I’m sorry Ma’am. But uhh, you see…there’s someone demanding your presence outside.”

“What?” She dug into her pocket, fishing out a silver pocket watch. “It’s not even dawn yet. The doors to the station don’t open for another hour.” 

“There were, um,” his eyes dart over to yours, and the obvious anxiety in his gaze makes you smirk. “Very insistent.”

They? God, please tell me the guys didn’t decide to come…

Grayson lets out a long, heavy sigh of frustration. Stuffing the pocket watch angrily back into her jacket and snapping her folder shut, she begins to storm off out of the room. Just as she grabs onto the heavy metal door, however, her head whips back to stare directly at you. Her eyes, furious.

“We’re not done here, you understand.” It wasn’t a question. 

Lifting your shackled hands to your forehead, you give a mocking-serious face and a curt nod. “Aye aye, cap’n.” 

The door slams behind her, and immediately your mind begins to spiral. The guys can’t have come here, they wouldn’t. Sure, it was basic protocol that all of them would immediately jump to bust the others out of prison whenever one of you got pinched, but this wasn’t your typical riot-crashing or pickpocketing charge. Closing your eyes, you try not to linger on the blurry images of the raid. The white hot shock of fear upon seeing a gun pointed at Narco, Skye, and little baby Vi. The way the frequency of the Enforcer’s guns seemed to scream at you in such large quantities. The fear, all but palpable within the arena as people either were pulled into the fight or ran for their lives. The thought of Benzo being clubbed down, Silco with a knife against his throat and hands raised in surrender, the rage in Vander’s face as they placed you in cuffs. 

This wasn’t like any other run-in with the cops that you’d experienced. This was a whole other level, and you knew that if the guys tried to fight you out or pay anyone off; they’d wind up in cells just like yours. 

You tried not to let your mind linger on that image for too long, either. 

Your throat started to burn with the tears you wouldn’t let yourself shed, your thoughts spinning in and out of control, and you pulled your legs up to your chest, resting your head on your knees. Trying ever so hard to calm your breathing. Please let it not be them out there…

Loud shouting filtered in through the cracks below your cell’s door. You couldn’t make it out, even if you tried, or even how many voices there were, but you could tell it was definitely heated. Were those the guys, fighting tooth-and-nail for your release, only to get shackles placed on them as well? Forced to the ground, kicking and screaming, and arrested in front of a huge crowd with your rage-filled family, forced to watch?

You could only anxiously listen in, your ears straining to hear the muffled sounds as you sat, uselessly, in your stupid little cell. This continues on for what felt like an eternity, but most likely what would have been only half an hour. Until, finally, the door to your cell swings open. On the other side, a very pissed-off Grayson. The flames of her rage practically emanated across the room, getting warmer and warmer as she stormed over to you, keys in hand.

“You got lucky again, Minerva.” She grunts out as she leans down, grabbing your shackles with probably more force than necessary. As she begins to unlock your restraints, your hands slowly begin to regain movement ability, you can feel the energy of your magic slowly flood back into your fingertips. The vibrations of all the metal around you, singing to you like a beautiful orchestra. You could only shut your eyes, the flood of emotions that came with your powers almost overwhelming to your already anxious body. You didn’t even realize that Grayson was still speaking. “-won’t be the last time you’ll be in one of my cells, I can promise you that.”

“What’s going on?” You couldn’t help but ask. You know you sounded pathetic, but this was honestly not how you pictured this going down.

Grayson laughed, but it sounded more like a scoff. “All you Underground folk, all you do is play dirty. Lying and cheating, it comes to you like breathing.”

That didn’t answer your question, but as Grayson slapped a normal pair of handcuffs on you, using them to force you up to your feet, you felt it was better not to ask followup questions. She dragged you by your arm out of your cell and into the all-too familiar main chamber of the Enforcer’s main station. On the other end, however, much to your surprised wasn’t the boys. Rather, two female figures. 

“Minerva!” Not even your mother’s cry was enough to shake you fully out of your shock as she surged forward, throwing her arms around you in a tight embrace. Out of habit, you tried to return your embrace, only to quickly remember your shackles. 

“Mom, what are you doing here?” You asked, quickly pulling away to look down at her with furrowed brows. “You shouldn’t-”

“The boys phoned me!” Her salt-and-pepper hair wasn’t in its usual braid, still down in flowing waves, showing that she had come straight here from bed. Her thick winter coat had been thrown on overtop of her wool nightgown, and her boots were unlaced. 

“They phoned both of us.” The second figure spoke up, Niya’s tone was stern, moreso than you think you’d ever heard from her. Her citrus-coloured hair was messier than how it had been at the arena, and there was a new cut along her lip that she must have gotten during the raid. She looked tired, but more than that, she looked mad. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine…” You looked back down at your mom. “But, why-”

“Your mother and Ms. Niya have negotiated for your release.” Grayson’s words were heavy, and she wasn’t doing a very good job at hiding her snarling face. With begrudging movements, she reached down, unlocking your handcuffs. “You’re free to go.”

Before you really even have a moment to wrap your head around what’s happening, your mother is pulling you away from the captain, all but dragging you towards the door. “Come on,” she whispers to you, “we need to get out of here.” But your eyes are still stuck on Grayson’s, the rage flowing off of her body in waves. 

“I’m sure I’ll be seeing you again soon, Minerva.” She spits.

With all the confusion swimming around in your mind, you try to think of something to say; one last quip to gain the extra hand. You’ve held your ground for so long here, and yet, the only thing you can really think to say is, “looking forward to it.”

#arcane #arcane netflix #arcane league of legends #arcane fanfic #Arcane fanfiction #Vander x Reader #vander arcane #vander x oc #warwick arcane #warwick x reader #warwick x oc #arcane benzo #arcane silco #arcane grayson #young vander #young silco #young benzo #oc fanfic #oc fanfiction #original character #reader insert

[mudd-art]

History rhymes | (Traced from an Arcane Still)

#Arcane #Benzo arcane #vander arcane #silco arcane #young benzo #young vander #young silco #Arcane oc #Phone doodles #'Gill' Gwillian the last gasp #Gill is just 'live creature reaction' at Silco bullying a creature in a cage #Bc I had to make it sad somehow

[conretewings]

Better Left Said (Vander x OC) NSF/W

-Oh hi yes *nervous laugh* Enjoy this random and utterly self-indulgent idea. Featuring younger (early twenties) versions of Vander, Silco and Benzo in the days of building The Lanes as well as Rosemary, who works at both her family's repair business and as a singer at bars and clubs. Lots of banter and spicy flirting. EDIT: Header image by the wonderful @thefutonhermit

-Vander x OC. Alcohol and smoking. Very suggestive content. 18+ only please

"What?" asked Silco, leaning closer to Vander, "I don't remember anything about chips."

Vander pinched his brow and sighed, "No, I said 'shipments'-maybe this wasn't the best place to meet up today..."

Friday nights were always crowded and noisy at Iron Bear, one of the group's favorite taverns. The owners knew them and knew their...illicit business, but didn't care so long as they brought in more coin than trouble. Vander, Silco and Benzo had their usual corner booth, paperwork spread on the table and discreetly arranged so no prying eyes could see the contents. Trying to build a black market empire was a complicated and dangerous affair, but they knew if successful it would be a boon to the Undercity's people...and a critical step toward their ultimate goal.

Benzo cleared his throat, reached forward and ran his finger over a list of figures on one of the pages, "Everythin' looks ta be in order. Those crates of gunpowder and-"

A loud whooping and whistling interrupted him as the three young men quickly hid their papers a little more, then looked up to see the object of the hullabaloo; a woman picked through the crowd, dark chocolate curls bouncing-along with other assets-her denim jacket doing little to cover her low-cut silken green dress that caught the light and cast an almost ethereal halo around her.

Vander found himself staring, an increasingly all-too-familiar warmth blooming in his chest and time seemed to slow as he watched her, all radiant smiles and quick, graceful movements, her curves flawlessly framed by her dress. They'd been friends for a few years now, but more and more he'd been finding himself looking at her through a different lens, one that made his heartbeat kick up a notch or sometimes embarrassingly, other parts very excited.

He gaped stupidly, mouth hung slightly open and Benzo smugly grinned at his friend, who composed himself upon noticing with a growled 'shut it'.

The woman rolled her eyes playfully or laughed with various patrons as she weaved her way to their table and plopped herself next to Benzo with a dramatic exhale, threading her arms through one of his.

"Wooo! I made it!" she beamed at them, hazel eyes bright and full of mischief as she smoothly purred in a well practiced, upper-class lilt, "Hello gentlemen. What must a lady do to get a drink around here?"

"Go order one." replied Silco with a smirk, taking a swig of his own ale.

"Hey Rosemary!" Vander and Benzo greeted in unison, grinning as she stood and rounded the table to lean over and hug Silco around his shoulders from behind.

"Oh, don't be like that Silcy I've missed you lads!" she pouted with mock hurt, snorting as he twisted to glower at her and push her off.

"I told you not to call me that!" he hissed, and this time she raised her hands, "Sorry, sorry. Well now we're even for that comment a moment ago eh?"

Silco shot her a sour look but quickly smiled again and gave an affirming tip of the head. Vander waved a hand to one of the staff, who nodded and went to grab another round, then turned to her as she sat back down, working to ignore the ample bit of visible cleavage, "Haven't seen ya in what? Almost a week? What you been up to Rosie?"

"Rumor has it you been gettin' pretty popular topside." added Benzo.

Rosemary ran a hand through her hair, the bubbly energy starting to fade along with the more 'upper crust' accent she'd been using, "Really now? Well, we got two trucks 'n several smaller projects at the shop ta finish, I've got two-wait...no, bloody hell three gigs comin' up. Tellin' ya the coin is fantastic but they run me ragged sometimes."

"Speaking of, I assume you came straight here from a performance? I couldn't help but notice the dress. Very stylish." Silco cut in.

"Thank ya! Aye, this lil' jazz club along the docks," Rosemary nodded, then bit her lip, "It ain't too much is it?"

"No." all three quickly replied, Vander's face flushed red as his eyes darted away awkwardly and she couldn't hold her brief, coy grin; so she wasn't imagining things. Not being blind nor stupid, she'd been noticing more lately how his gaze would linger on her when he thought she wasn't paying attention, or how he'd react to things she said, those silver-blue eyes holding hints of things that made her core burn and coil in delicious torment. She'd be lying if she denied the thought of being with him-in one form or another-hadn't crossed her daydreams more than once. Maybe tonight she'd work up the courage to say something.

Her gaze flicked to the papers in front of them and lowered her voice, "But enough 'bout me. How's things 'ere?"

There was a pause and muttered thanks as the waiter dropped off their drinks, then Silco leaned in, a cue for them all to follow suit and cracked a wicked smile, bottle-green eyes sharp as the knife he kept on his hip, "Plans have been going splendidly. I feel it's finally safe to say we're making headway..."

-"Come ooooon boys one more round!" cried Rosemary joyfully, her face flushed and beer tankard almost sloshing onto the table as she raised it too fast.

"Oi watch it don't be wastin'-hic-good ale!" Vander huffed with a laugh and a hiccup while Silco rolled his eyes and took a more measured sip of his whiskey as the pair continued to banter.

It was a couple hours-and drinks-later and the group had hashed out a plan for the next few weeks, Rosemary volunteering as always to glean what information she could regarding the movement of goods in and out of Piltover from her more loose-lipped audience members. Business being wrapped up as much as possible for the moment, the group concluded since it was the weekend, a bit of inebriation, chatter and comradery were in order.

"Good ale?! If I wanted that I'd 'a gone somewheres else than this leaky bucket! Only reason I come 'ere is for you lot!" she snickered.

"It's not bad!" Benzo knocked back some more then licked his lips thoughtfully with a shrug, "Ah've had worse."

"Oh I see how it is!" Vander huffed, crossing his thick arms dramatically, "She's gettin' too good for us!"

"Oh Van!" she reached across Benzo and patted his shoulder, giving him a wink and a very good show of that cleavage, "You'll always be perfect for me!"

Vander paused, mouth half open with the smart rebuttal he'd had catching in his throat; something deeply sincere in her green-flecked eyes and gentle smile shot right through to his heart. There it was again, that sweetly torturous heat rising to his chest and spreading outward, and he fumbled for a response until he gave up and simply gave a short bark of a laugh and eyeroll, "Yeah yeah..."

An employee, apparently having overheard Rosemary's outburst and all too happy to oblige, appeared with four more mugs, three of the four being snatched up almost as soon as they were set down. A few moments later a man approached and Benzo did a double-take.

"Rocky! What can I do ya for mate?" he asked cheerfully.

"'Ey Benzo! Wanted to thank you for helpin' me get ahold of the thing I needed. You uh, got any more deals?"

"I might, I might. Why don't we step out for a sec? Hard to hear in here," Benzo stood, Rosemary having to scoot out to let him by, and pointed sternly at his drink as he turned to go, "This better be full when I get back!"

Vander flipped him off with a sarcastic smile and Rosemary gasped in mock disbelief, Silco raising an eyebrow and smirking before going back to the paper in front of him. Rosemary then gulped a bit of her ale, head already swimming pleasantly and body fuzzy-when she realized abruptly there was now nothing between her and Vander but air. She glanced sideways at him, he and Silco studying a couple of the pages and mumbling inaudibly between each other.

She watched him slyly, admiring his handsome face, the scruff growing into a short beard, how his eyebrows would knit together adorably whenever he was concentrating, those gorgeous steel-blue eyes she could lost in, his thick brown hair that just begged for her fingers to run through it, those lips that looked so soft and kissable, how those large hands could hold her so snugly and-shit. She felt the heat rise up her neck to her face; she really was in it.

Vander must have sensed her eyes on him, as he glanced in her direction briefly, doing a brief double-take, brow wrinkled lightly in curiosity.

Then he smiled softly, that goddamn, devilishly charming smile, and any semblance or thread of control or doubt holding her back crumbled.

"Can I help ya?" he pondered, sliding himself closer to her.

"Hmmm..." she mirrored him, moving nearer, "I can think of a few things."

"You gonna tell me 'bout them?" he teased, taking a cigarette from his pocket, lighting it and blowing a wisp skyward before turning to face her more.

Rosemary's heart skipped; that half-lidded, inviting smile gave her both pause and courage. Alright then, she mused after only a moment's hesitancy, if he wants to play this game we'll play.

Resting her chin on her fingers and head tilted upward slightly, she gracefully crossed one leg over the other so her foot was against his leg, "Oh Van...I can see right through you. You're all cool 'n suave when ya wannna be but right now you're runnin' quite hot..."

He froze for a second, not only for how her foot was gingerly rubbing against his calf, this simple contact causing more internal havoc than it had any right to, but also from the warmth and-dare he think-desire pooled in her beautiful eyes. They'd coyly 'flirted' many a time before, making a game of tossing sly double entendres and comments to each other, and he had to admit there were times, especially lately, he wouldn't have minded it going further, but abruptly faced with what he realized was her taking that leap caught him off guard.

"A-ah," Vander stammered, the alcohol coursing through his veins doing him no favors, "Am I n-now? Dunno about that. In fact seems you're the one makin' bedroom eyes at me."

She scooted herself to press right up to him now, laying a hand across his wrist and stroking a line up the stiffened muscle of his arm. It was at this moment he realized other things beginning to stiffen and he swore silently.

Finishing the brief, hushed discussion he'd been having with one of his contacts, Silco turned back around-and wrinkled his nose upon realizing they were shamelessly flirting. He grimaced briefly before going back to the paperwork he'd still been studying and resolving to ignore them. If they wanted to flirt and act like horny teens that was their business. He only prayed not to overhear anything too personal.

Forcing down her trembles, buzzed and high off the adrenaline Rosemary tilted her head , "Know what I think? I think deep down, you'd like it to be more 'n just my eyes. I think, you'd like...all of me in the bedroom..." she licked her thumb suggestively and to his continued stunned surprise, wiped a stray smudge of mud off his cheek, "Dirty man..."

His hand was clenched tightly on the table, heart pounding and he definitely had a raging boner now. He swallowed thickly, scrambling for a response that wasn't an incoherent ramble or direct confirmation of her...irritatingly spot-on comments. Another thought creeped into his lust and beer addled mind; was this just the ale talking? Part of the game? Or did she genuinely want him how, as she deduced, he secretly longed for her?

"So ya th-think ya know what's goin' on in my head eh?" he managed, hoping he didn't sound too worked up and smushing out his cigarette with shaking hands.

She winked, "You're not hidin' it too well love. At this point it's a matter of knowin'. Like how I know you're enjoyin' this. Or how you're definitely picturing what I look like under this dress..." she leaned in to purr in his ear, "And I know it'll be my name on your lips when you're strokin' yourself later-"

At this Vander suddenly stood, so fast and forcibly he bumped the table hard enough to wobble it, their drinks nearly spilling. Before anyone could ask he sputtered out, "Gotta piss sorry-" and stalked away, dodging other people and accidentally bumping some in his haste, including Benzo who tried and failed to ask what the rush was.

Benzo returned to the table and sat heavily, jerking his thumb behind him, "Anyone know what that big lug's issue is?"

Threading his fingers together, Silco cocked an eyebrow and hummed, "Perhaps Rosemary would care to give some insight..."

She, in turn, had slid down somewhat in her seat, as if she could hide from the embarrassment and her scarlet face; oh dear. Perhaps that had been too much.

"Fuck." she mumbled.

-It was a few days later, and murky greenish neon light from outside seeped through the thin curtains of Vander's room, casting a perpetual, dim glow. The numerous noises of the city drowned out the low groaning pants of it's namesake occupant, one hand thrown over his eyes as the other pumped his cock. Of all the sinful thoughts swirling in his mind, one kept snapping back into clearer focus; one particular woman straddling him, rocking her hips in rhythm with his as his hands clutched her ass, her chest, wherever he could reach. He bit his lip hard, imagining her flushed cheeks and mouth half-open as she blissfully rode his dick, moaning his name as she reached climax at the same time he did-

"R-Rosemary! Rosie...oh-!" he stuttered out, gripping the sheet and back arching as he came. He lay there, drifting down like a leaf on a gentle breeze, breath ragged but calming, absorbed in the high before he remembered what she'd said.

"...Fuck..." he grumbled.

@vander-affectionate @barbersjoy @immortalbumblebee @catgoblinchelly

@archerofthemists @prwincessqwin-blog @band--psycho

#vander arcane #vander x oc #arcane vander x oc #vander smut #arcane oc #young vander #silco arcane #young silco #arcane benzo #young benzo #arcane fanfic

[literallyvengeance]

young silco and vander is literally the only thing keeping me alive so i wrote this <3

#arcane #vander #silco league of legends #vander and silco #silco fanfic #vander fanfic #young silco #young vander #one shot #arcane fic #sevika #young sevika #young benzo #pre arcane #arcane origins #gottakillyourmindfics

[simpingforsilco]

Okay, But Where Did Silco Learn To Talk Fancy Like That?

Has he always been like this? Everyone else in The Undercity doesn't seem to care.

Vander: This is my new buddy Silco! I met him in the mines and he wants to help us with our revolution!

Silco, extending his hand: It is my greatest pleasure to be acquainted with a fellow accomplice.

Benzo: Wtf did he just say??

Vander: You get used to it.

#silcoarcane #arcane silco #young silco #text post #original post #arcane #vander #arcane benzo

[gendergenius]

My psych really was like noooo you can't take benzos for your anxiety you'll become dependent :(( and then forced me on a medication that doesn't help and gives extreme withdrawal symptoms (something I know because they have failed to refill the medication after multiple requests from me and the pharmacy— they're just Not Answering)

#she literally super disregarded everything i said because i was young and smoked weed #proof? my mom who is old and smokes weed was prescribed benzos by her #simply because well yes my doctor may hate stoners but if youre older than her i guess you know bettter

[fic-heaven]

CARDIAC ATTACK!

Young! Metalhead! Silco x Fem Artist! Reader

(C.1- Chapter 2. Have you ever been on a pogo? - next)

[Modern Au/ Strong Vander x Reader themes but this story is Silco x Reader aimed]

[fluff/ heavy angst/ jealousy/ use of alcohol and drugs / smut / brats being brats]

C.2 warnings: (toxic relationship/ fat and emo jokes because they be like that/ fake-dating/mention of heavy pollution)

Benzo finally introduces you to the band and you quickly note that the group's laughs and jokes are always cut short when someone makes presence. You make the decision of helping get the band's shine back, and your help is gladly taken.

.

Unsurprisingly your sibling bonding with Benzo did nothing but increase since your first interaction, and obviously your parents noticed and were so excited they quickly suggested a trip to the river so the four of you could spend some quality time together.

Though... much to your surprise Benzo denied claiming you two had already made plans, and after half an hour of pleas from your father and tiny tantrums from your adorable stepmom, they stopped insisting when Benzo loudly played Murmaider from his bedroom's speakers.

You didn't even know what Benzo had planned for the both of you. Were you finally going to meet the band? You hoped so... You were nervous. The anticipation caused you to brush your hair a little harsher and quicker than intended after a shower.

Some time before, Silvia and dad left to do something about some neighbour's birthday, you didn't pay much attention to what they were saying when Benzo looked hilarious covering his eyes and mumbling something the moment he passed your open door after you announced you were going to use the shower.

Said boy knocked on your door and sighed relieved when you opened it fully clothed, to your amusement the metalhead cringed at your hello kitty top causing a chuckle to erupt from your lips.

"(Y/n) for the love of Janna, change and bring a bikini, we're heading to the river after making a quick stop at-"

"The river? I thought we already made plans, should I call dad and Silvia, then?"

Your step brother shivered at the mention of his mother, he then took a step back and shaking his head, Benzo continued.

"Uh, nope. We're going with the boys, Vander texted he wanted to discuss something about the lyrics of the new song we're making, so we all agreed to meet in the river."

"Sounds like a pretty amazing plan, did you tell 'em you are bringing me though...?"

Benzo ruffled your hair and grabbed his backpack from the hall's floor next to your door.

"Of course I did, now go change! There's no way in hell they won't laugh at me the moment you bring that shirt."

"Sorry for hurting your image dummy... It's just a toon."

"I'm JOKING. But seriously..." And with that, the big guy was out of your room.

You huffed of laughter and went to your wardrobe ready to change into something less... Cartoonish, not before making a mental note to wear that top next time you wanted to mess with him.

With all set, you two went outside with your bags and some snacks for later.

You were confused when you rounded the house to enter the park instead of going off the road to his freinds' house. Benzo said it was a shortcut, and a shortcut it was, as soon as you touched grass ten minutes later you were out in front of some house's garage.

The place didn't look much different than yours, only less taken care of from the outside.

Your step brother knocked on the garage's closed door and a grunt from the rusty door startled both of you as it was lifted mechanically.

Awkwardly following behind Benzo you looked around the garage, there was a big working bench neatly organized on the farthest wall of the place next to a door that led inside the house, a line of shelves covered the rest of the wall some of them holding motorcycle parts.. or so you thought they were...

A greeting sounded from the right part of the place where a bearded teen with long chocolate hair and muscles for days sat on a rusty looking couch leaning forwards with both of his elbows resting on a small coffee table at the center. There were cables everywhere and a red guitar laying on his left side, following the cables' path, his hands held two ends and slowly tried attaching them to some short of.... Glob? What?

What the hell was he doing?

"What are you doing, Vander?" Snapped Benzo like he only had read your mind holding the same look of confusion as you.

"Running my guitar through peanut butter... We have been waiting for an hour and a half. I thought I was the one who was supposed to run late every time."

While wondering how the fuck could he play the guitar connecting the poor thing to peanut butter out of anything Benzo spoke.

"Where's Silco lurking at?"

"Top of the fridge, as always" said Vander with a bored tone.

Both metalheads turned to the big fridge from the opposite corner behind you and you followed their gazes. Apparently you guys passed the guy didn't eleven notice.

The other musician sat at the very top of the unplugged fidge, both legs hanging from the edge as his pale slender fingers seemed to be readjusting his bass' strings.

From this angle you couldn't see his face because of the long black hair that cascaded to his shoulders not bothering to spare a glance to you two, seemingly busy with his instrument. Oh and said bass was gorgeous, it was painted in dark greyish blues with a scaly pattern, it has that satisfactory shine that makes it look completely new. You smiled.

Silco took really good care of it, it seemed. Unlike Benzo and Vander who as soon as Silco was done being glanced upon, quickly went back to Vander's extraordinary task of making his abused guitar work with the cheap peanut butter that layed splattered on the small coffee table's counter.

Benzo gently nudged you with his elbow.

"This is the artist I've told ya two about, AND my new step sister, (y/n)."

"Hi!" You chirped.

Vander smiled politely and shook your hand.

"My pleasure! I'm Vander, the handsome one~ And like you may know now, that edgy son of a bitch is our dear bassist Silco- pst! Hey Sil!"

The slender black haired metaller lifted his eyes from the instrument he still held giving Vander a grunt from behind his long locks, at this Vander extended his arm around Benzo's shoulders and with the largest grins they sang in unison...

"CRAAAAWLING IIIIN MY SKIIIN!!"

"SHUT UP BOTH OF YOU, SHUT UP!!!"

You exploded into a fit of laughs with Vander and Benzo at their stupid mockery, luckily you inherited you father's contagious laughter that drove Benzo and Vander to laugh a bit louder. Suddenly you felt your ribs crush under Vander's opposite arm, big built body shaking in shared laughter.

Silco jumped down the fridge and fixed you three with an annoyed squint, where eyes layed on Vander soon turned to hold your gaze for a few seconds before returning to the other teen.

Your breath catched.

He had the most beautiful eyes you had ever seen...

They were this icy bluish green that reminded your of seaweed. You wanted to stare at them for the rest of the day.

Straighten yourself (y/n)...

"You only saw me listening to that bloody song ONCE-" he groaned. God even his voice was delicious.

"Yeah once, ON LOOP" Your Benzo bit back.

"Alright, alright, ladies... Anyway, we were about to go get the two of you out of impatience" Vander smiled.

With a polite one of your own, you replayed "You guys are going to excuse me for not knowing anything about this place... I come from Piltover so..."

Vander and Silco abruptly looked at Benzo with stunned faces who only shrugged in return and while you felt Vander's body stiffen and quickly relax as to not startle you from the suddenly awkward side hug that you two casually broke, he peered down at you with a tight smile and a hair ruffle "welcome to Zaun then! Don't look so spooked, bunny"

That made you realize just how tensed you were as well and chuckled nervously "Yeah! Well thank you! Not planning on coming back there any time soon..."

Silco fixed you an unreadable look. You were well aware of the tension between both cities, dumb of you to drop the bomb like that but, ah well... They were bound to know eventually.

Benzo clapped both hands and cracked his knuckles "You guys are gonna wait on me for a bit. Gotta go to the bathroom before heading to the river."

"You know where it is, help yourself..." Mumbled Silco.

Vander showed you to the couch and Silco joined your opposite side.

You rested your head on the couch's surprisingly comfortable cushions considering how ruined it looked and let the minutes pass by sitting between Silco who was entertaining himself with his phone and... A pair of blue eyes that looked down at you worriedly.

"The nickname didn't bother ya, right?" Softly half whispered Vander.

"Huh?"

Which...? Oh, right.

"Bunny? It's fine, i mean I didn't even notice. I've been called anything and everything because of my facial expressions, bunny is quiet adorable really."

It's true, in school it was a constant thing being teased for being overly expressive. Luckily as you grew up you fixed that "problem" and handled it better but obviously you can't simply always have a stoic face like the man sitting at your left side.

"It's alright to be expressive, it's not an issue unless you are looking to start trouble. We all have our thing, though it's relieving to know that it didn't piss you off. Sometimes i go act without thinking twice..."

Vander was so nice and chill that during a casual chat with him you almost forgot about Silco when he abruptly snatched Vander's phone away as the tall man was about to give you his Instagram.

You both looked at his bored eyes.

"Give her your Instagram, it's all fine and dandy until you-know-who sees you are following a chick and instantly make it the whole group's problem."

What is he talking about?

Vander exhaled soundly.

"Helena won't mind. I just met (y/n), she's Benzo's sis, i doubt she'll snap."

"She will and we both know it. Your girlfriend is crazy, Vander-"

"Don't run your mouth, Silco. She's my girlfriend and a very important member of this band."

They snapped to reality when they took notice of your uncomfortably curled form, wide eyeing their bickering from side to side.

"I... Didn't mean to bring trouble. But, is it that much of an issue to share Instagrams...?"

Silco sighed and handed Vander his phone.

"No it's not. Or it shouldn't be... You didn't do anything wrong and, before we go to the river..." The raven haired bassist leaned closer and you couldn't help but gulp and swallow a tiny blush that threatened to scape.

"Nothing you say or do is a problem, if our other guitarist gets pissed you don't listen to her nor Vander."

Vander stalked your art through your Instagram account in silence forcibly ignoring Silco's words.

"You come to my side and agree with whatever I say, alright?" Silco squeezed your arm comfortingly.

Were they trying to scare you off? Or was Vander really attached to someone obsessed with control and dominance over the young grizzly bear of a guitarist-singer Silco was so adamant to reprimand because of an innocent exchange of social media?

You nodded curtly earning a grunt of agreement from Silco, then your step brother finally appeared closing the door behind him.

B-"Do you guys think I have a beach body now? I think I lost three pounds after the shit i just took."

S-"That's my fucking bathroom you are shitting at, Benzo."

B-"Be thankful I did it inside the bloody toilet.".

Y/n- "Benzo-"

S- "Allow me to finish for you, (y/n). Benzo, tell me you at least opened the bathroom window because you stink."

V-"ALRIIIIIIGHT, RIVER TIME~"

.

.

The walk to the river was alright, Silco's place wasn't as far from your trajectory as you imagined. The four of you engaged on many different conversations at once since the three of them never agreed to a topic and never really intended to. When Benzo spoke you about the new pizza place around your street's corner, Vander talked your ear off about this amazing series called Berserk he was watching with his girlfriend and Silco ,from time to time, asked you a thing or two about your art style and where and when did you find your attraction to art in general. All of that while Vander's phone blasted music from a random slam group you couldn't quiet identify.

Soon the summer air breeze through your group and the sun was starting to make your skin itch due to the sweat.

Luckily when you guys found the place, the band leader claimed to know a calm shaded part of the river where no one but them used to frequent. It took some struggling to not fall and break your neck because of all the rocks and branches everywhere but Silco and Vander made sure you didn't die as Benzo, the heaviest and seemingly clumsiest of them three walked through the rocks and ponds with ease and you were sure Silco and Vander did too if it wasn't because they controlled your moves and balancing, sometimes caging you between them. As much as you mentally slapped yourself for enjoying every moment they placed their hands on you, you hated feeling this clumsy and easily startled.

Benzo made the joke that you looked more like a duckling following mama and papa duck than a bunny. It was such a stupid thing to say, maybe it was your nerves or the hunger or the exhaustion, but you laughed your ass off having all of them waiting on you, soon their chuckles at your drunken-in-exhaustion state joined. And to your surprise even Silco let out a crackle of two that vibrated your body like electricity while he held your sides with both of his hands just in case.

Benzo snapped you out of your trance announcing a sanded place where you guys started placing your towels and accommodated your stuff, careful to not leave anything out in the open in case an animal decided to feast on your snacks.

"Alright, team. Let's wait for 'Lena to arrive so we can discuss the lyrics and-"

"Fuck you, I'm boiling." Silco went to his bag and fished some toiletries that he started applying to his face.

"Janna, Silco. Why did you bring your whole cosmetic bag here you only got your eyes painted." Vander said pulling off his shirt as you and Benzo followed suit.

"Delicate skin. You wouldn't understand."

As quickly as you could you went straight into the water, Vander's loud gasp at the temperature was relatable as fuck, you could feel your nipples pierce through your bikini.

"The ovaries on you, (y/n)." he sighed following you in the water.

The truth is you couldn't even speak because you were holding a scream of pain at your freezing joints. Fuck it was cold.

Benzo cleared his throat now climbing a rock approaching the edge, and with an incredible imitation of one of those narrators from random animal documentaries, high and mighty, he pointed at Silco who was now approaching the shore mindful of the rocks.

"Finally, the bassist took off his make up and swallowed down his normal pills. Now he can go find a loving girlfriend, some sleeves to cover his cuts and become a functional member of society!"

Silco flipped him a finger "Watch where you wander, Benzo. Before you notice, you'll have a group of piltie tourists snatching some pictures of you thinking you are some weird mutant sea cow."

You gasped and covered your mouth earning a chuckle from Vander.

S-"He makes emo jokes, i make fat jokes."

B-"Yeah we bully each other constantly it's no biggie-"

V-"I don't think they would be that surprised to spot a mutated sea cow. This may be the cleanest part of the river but we still live in Zaun guys... All the shit garbage they keep throwing at us will soon create a new bloody ecosystem."

Sad but true.

Silco squinted at the water like it had just kicked a puppy, and that view made you giggle. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm not laughing about the water situation-"

Silco looked up at you and the corner of his lips slightly turned upwards on a discreet smirk like he just caught on on your entrainment of his pale body freezing to death.

At his newfound attention you made a motioning gesture towards your side of the water, and before he could reach to you, Vander jumped on him looking like a wet golden retriever trying to tackle the poor guy into the water, Silco snapped

"YOU FOOL YOU ARE FREEZING -AGH-...STOP STOP!!"

Feeling hopeless of the beast before you, a wave of bravery hit you and impulsed you to aid your falling comrade with a war cry and a jump to the brunette's back, both arms wrapped around Vander's torso in a mockery of an attack as he roared playing his river-monster role when Silco faked to hit him with an uppercut, but the beast wasn't alone...

"CANNONBALL!!!!"

OH GOD

SPLASH!

You saw an enormous shadow before the disaster, as Benzo joined your entangled bodies.

All of you laughed in unison until...

"What the fuck are you doing clinging to my boyfriend!?"

Your heads snapped his head to where you guys left your stuff, a blue haired chick on a pink bikini looked at you with a wild look that honestly scared the shit out of you.

"Honey! We were just playin' around, come here! The water is amazi-"

"Shut up. How dare you!? You bitch you know he has a girlfriend right? See that little bracelet with my fucking name on it on his wrist?"

You slowly let go of Vander still perplexed, looking at Benzo he did nothing but look away.

"I-..."

"Come out. Say whatever you want to say right here."

"She's my girlfriend, you bitch."

What?

Silco was at your side in the blink of an eye, pale arms rounding your middle mouth pouting on a snarl you could spot a like of chipped teeth, green eyes looking at Helena in pure and open distaste.

"Is her? Well tell your girlfriend to not go touching another girl's boyfriend, whatever weird deal is between you two do NOT involve my Vander."

Holly shit...

Now you understood Silco...

But Vander?

He gave you a sneaky apologetic look that spoke a thousand words. And you gave him one of your own... This wasn't okay.

After that temper tantrum Benzo tried to Introduce you to Helena but she seemed adamant on ignoring you. Whatever. That was fine by you... She already met you and was throwing fists just because you guys were literally playing like children.

You could understand that maybe the position she found you in was uncomfortable for her but in truth she wasn't even angry you guys were like that.

She screamed at Vander from the other side of the river while they needed "some time alone" that she was pissed to literally find he "had the balls" to go inside the river with another girl from her same age.

Silco was making eye contact with you during the whole screaming match.

You two needn't say a word.

Benzo started doing laps through the river like this was they day to day.

When they came back, Vander had this forced smile while his loving girlfriend grabbed his arm like a cat in heat. You leaned to Silco's side and he slightly nuzzled your head with his cheek silently comforting you.

Nothing you say or do is a problem, if our other guitarist gets pissed you don't listen to her nor Vander. You come to my side and agree with whatever I say, alright?

You found yourself having to act like you and Silco were dating just so your new friend wouldn't get verbally attacked by his crazy-ass girlfriend for the rest of the fun day at the river.

#arcane #arcane silco #silco #silco arcane #silco x reader #silco x y/n #cardiac attack! #metalhead! benzo #metalhead! vander #metalhead! silco #young silco #young silco x reader

[kikiiswashere]

Children of Zaun - Chapter 11

Pairing: Silco/Fem!OC

Rating: Explicit

Story Warnings: Canon typical violence, drug use/dealing, dark themes, eventual smut

Chapter Summary: The cat jumps outta Silco's bag when Enyd finds Benzo. He and Vander beat up some Enforcers to blow off some steam. Katya has a couple big ol' boo-hoos.

Chapter CW: A character suffers a panic attack; a canon-typical fight occurs

Previous Chapter

Word Count: 7.6K

Awkward silence hung in the air and Vander’s mind raced with equal parts fury, protectiveness, and frenetic overwhelm. He scanned the room and locked eyes with Annie, who was standing off to the side, her tray tucked protectively against her chest. She looked to him for direction. Vander sucked his tongue to the roof of his mouth.

“Sorry ‘bout that, folks,” he finally said. “Next round is on The Drop.”

He winced, internally. That would hurt when it came to reconciling the budget the following month, but he needed to try and restore the bar’s normal energy. To comfort his patrons. And to whisk Katya out of the main room. Vander then looked to Silco, an unspoken conversation fluttering between them.

As cautious, cheerful chatter began to fill the air again, Silco ushered Katya to her feet and Vander turned to Beckett.

“Help Annie, would’ja?”

Beckett nodded and made his way behind the bar as Annie approached, prepared to laden her tray with free beverages.

Vander tossed the towel that was slung over his shoulder under the bar, and swept to the door that led to his apartment. He stepped inside and held it open as Silco, Katya, and Enyd passed the threshold. No sooner had he closed the door, did Katya collapse and crumple to the floor, a choked cry pealing out of her throat.

Silco dove after her, wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her back flush to his chest. He scrabbled and kicked across the floor until his back found the wall of the hallway. Grounded, he readjusted his hold on her, arms enveloping her chest and hands reaching up to grip her shoulders, keeping them pressed back against him. His long legs curled around hers and firmly pulled them in.

“Breathe, Katya,” he whispered in a low, even tone. “You’re safe.”

Vander and Enyd stood watchfully above the pair.  Despite the awfulness of seeing the young woman in such distress, pride could not help but sweep through Enyd’s chest in glossy, warm ribbons. Both she and Vander were familiar with the hold Silco had on her – and chances were, she would’ve been too if she weren’t in a state of terrified shock. It was a technique that miners used on each other to ground and comfort, typically employed after a cave-in, explosion, or avalanche.

Katya’s breath came in shallow, watery sips. Her body quaked and rattled under Silco’s hold. Her teeth chattered together, as if her skeleton was attempting to shake itself loose from the confines of her body.

“Breathe,” Silco said again.

She attempted a deeper gulp, but it quickly morphed into a wailed bark. Hot tears streamed freely down her cheeks. Silco gripped her body tighter.

“Breathe, Katya,” he murmured against her temple. “I know you can. Like this –“

Holding her as still as he could, Silco took a long and wide breath through his nose. His chest and belly inflated, causing her body to gently press forward into his arms.  He exhaled long and slow, and she returned into the sheltered curl of his body. Her teeth clacked together and her fingers gripped at his shirtsleeves.

“Breathe with me,” he offered. “Breathe in,” again, Silco drew in a breath through his nose. Katya did the best she could; her breath coming in shaky and uneven through her trembling lips.

“Good. And out.”

The breath left Silco’s nose in a long, even gust that brushed against the apples of Katya’s wet cheeks. She blew a warbly, hitching exhale out through her lips.

“Very good. Let’s do it again.”

The rounds of breath that followed were shaky, but they improved each time. The inhales became deeper and the exhales slower. Katya’s back began to relax into his chest.

Unable to standby any longer, Enyd dropped to her knees and placed her hands on the top of the girl’s shoes, pressing them down firmly. She gave her what she hoped was an encouraging look. Hazy, amber eyes ghosted across her face. 

“There you are. You’re safe,” Silco said as her last exhale became more of an exhausted sigh. “Now try through your nose. You can do it.”

Together they moved through a few more breaths before Katya’s skeleton seemed to go limp under her muscles, and she rested fully into Silco’s hold. She closed her eyes and lulled her head against his shoulder, exhausted now that the adrenaline had finished coursing through her.

“Excellent work, dear,” Enyd whispered, giving her boots an affectionate squeeze and press. Making to stand, she addressed Vander. “She should have some water. Your kitchen is down the hall, yes?”

Vander nodded and jut his chin toward the innards of his living space. Enyd carefully stepped around her son and the girl cloistered in his arms and began down the hall. She only made it a few feet before a voice called out from behind a closed door she was passing.

“Oi! Vander! That you? Wha’s goin’ on out there?”

Enyd froze. As did Vander. As did Silco, his body tensing beneath Katya’s fatigued weight.

“I heard ya yellin’,” came Benzo’s voice from behind the door. “An’ now some cryin’. Wha’s happenin’?”

Enyd turned to face the unassuming door, her eyes wide with disbelief. With agonizing slowness, her gaze traveled away from the door and landed on the two young men watching her apprehensively. Vander’s face had gone slack, while her son’s – which she knew so well – was pinching in a way that told her his mind was racing to come up with a story.

The sound of a heavy body shifting over a bed snapped Enyd’s attention back to the door, and she wrenched it open. As her eyes took in the sight of Benzo on the bed - leg wrapped up in bandages and lifted high on a stack of pillows, his hands pushing into the bed by his hips in an attempt to lift himself up - a tidal wave of emotions ripped through her, threatening to pull her calm, motherly understanding undertow.

Anger. Confusion. Disappointment. Worry. Back to anger . . .

Benzo blanched at the sight of her.

“Oh . . . Er – h-hey, Ms. E,” he nervously chuckled, settling his body back into the mattress guiltily.

“What happened to you?” she asked, trying to temper the hot fury coursing through her despite the horrid conclusions her mind was making.

“Enyd,” came Vander’s diplomatic plea, “jus’ hold on a sec. We can explain.”

Enyd did not want to ask the next question for fear of the answer, but she stared at his leg and quietly asked, “Were you shot?”

Benzo gawked at her, unsure what to say. His silence only confirmed her hasty suspicion. Anger began to crackle under her skin, like fatback in a frying pan.

“Yes, he was shot,” she heard her son answer.

Enyd snapped her eyes back on him, rage constricting her already ravaged throat. He looked back at her, his gaze steady and firm, but defeated.

Another moment of silence passed before Enyd clenched her jaw and spun on her heel, stomping down the hallway.

“Where are you going?” Silco called.

“To get her some water, like I said,” came the angry reply. “Do not bother coming up with some story while I’m gone. You will tell me what in the name of Janna is going on when I come back.”

Once Enyd disappeared, Vander flexed his hands and turned to his Brother on the floor.

“Wha’do we do?”

Silco sighed, his head shaking minutely. He adjusted his hold on Katya, who was still heavy in his arms.

“We tell her,” he finally relented. “Worst she’ll do is kick me out – “

“She won’ do that, Sil.”

The shake of Silco’s head became a little bigger. He was not as adept at thinking on his feet when his mother was the audience; the heat of her all-knowing-maternal senses evaporating away all manners of lies to get to the gritty, burnt truth.

He didn’t want her to find out like this. He had wanted to wait until . . . until victory was theirs or just about to be theirs. Foolish, perhaps. But that was what he had wanted.

“Katya,” he said quietly. Her head shifted against his shoulder and a low whine in the back of her throat indicated she heard him. “Do you think you can stand?”

She nodded and a hiss that may have been a ‘yes’ wisped between her lips.

“Vander, go get her coat, please,” Silco said as he adjusted himself, readying both of them to stand.

Vander returned to The Drop’s main room, and Silco carefully lifted Katya onto her unsteady feet.

Shame walloped against her as she felt the damp material of her trousers uncomfortably chafe across her inner thigh, groin, and buttocks. Despite feeling so, so cold, her cheeks flushed with hot embarrassment and her eyes welled up again.

Vander returned blissfully fast with the coat, and Katya hurriedly wrapped herself up, thankful for the fact that its length covered most of the dark stain. She allowed herself to be ushered back into Benzo’s room – Silco’s arm wound around her shoulders – and placed back on the stool she had occupied earlier.

“You alright, Lass?” Benzo asked, noting her blotched and tear-stained face.

Thankfully, Katya was relieved of answering by Enyd’s return. She accepted the glass of water with trembling fingertips and took a tentative sip. The mother knelt at her side and place a reassuring hand on the back of her head. Katya fought not to choke on the wave of emotions that stopped up the water’s descent down her throat. Enyd ran her palm down the curve of her skull, and further down her back. Her slender fingers gently waved side-to-side as they traveled.

It was a gesture that struck through Katya with heart-wrenching familiarity. She could remember her papa or mama comforting her with a similar gesture. Her throat squeezed in an emotional hiccup, and she coughed and sputtered into the glass, water spraying back onto her upper lip and dribbling down her chin.

Enyd guided the cup away and rubbed soothing circles into her back, the movement punctuated by occasional soft pats. She murmured encouraging nothings and lifted the glass back to Katya’s lips when she was ready. When the cup was drained, Enyd placed it next to the pitcher on Benzo’s bedside table. Her eyes then turned to her son, her once tender regard turned stony with disappointment.

He had the decency and determination to keep her gaze.

“Well?” she spat when the silence stretched too long for her liking.

For a flash of a moment, she saw the three of them as boys again. Their ages may have determined them to be men in the eyes of society, but their repugnant and scared silence dripped with foolish and timid youth. She could remember similar looks on their faces when they were rounder with adolescence, awkward and gangly limbs fidgeting nervously when she or Benzo’s mother would scold them for pelting pebbles at the back of Enforcer’s helmets.

Her heart strained and raged at the thought.

“What were you thinking?” finally came the angry rasp.

“We were thinking we could help the Undercity,” Silco answered. His stare was even but his words wavered at the edges.

“Help?!” Enyd cried indignantly. “How would trying to steal from a Piltover freight help the Undercity?”

“To get supplies,” Vander said.

“What kind of supplies?”

“Weapons,” Silco admitted.

“Wea-“ Enyd began to repeat, confusion painting her face before a nameless horror began to squeeze at her heart and terrified understanding bled into the fine lines across her face. “Why?”

“We’re rallying the Undercity,” he explained. “To fight for our freedom. To gain independence from Piltover.”

Enyd’s eyes went impossibly wide and her mouth gaped. She looked from one to the other before hanging her head in her trembling hands.

Her boy . . . her perfect . . . foolish, bull-headed boy.

“How long?” she asked from her hands.

“A while.”

“Last night was the first time we – we did anything,” Vander added.

A sharp, derisive laugh burst from Enyd’s throat. “Your first job and one of you got shot.”

She looked over to Benzo and the mountainous man bashfully dropped his eyes to his lap.

Glancing over his leg, she reeled her ire in enough to ask, “Are you okay?”

Benzo nodded. “Nurse says I’ll live.”

He jut his head in Katya’s direction, and she braced herself to also be on the receiving end of Silco’s mother’s wrath. But it didn’t come. A question did instead.

“You’re a nurse?”

Katya cleared her throat and said in a quiet voice, “Not technically, no. But I’m a medic in the mines.”

Enyd’s eyes widened again as another puzzle pieced itself together in her mind. She shot a look back to her son, and the way his eyes briefly averted hers confirmed her suspicion. Her mind spun horrifically in the wake of these revelations. Too many thoughts and emotions colliding within her, battering against her mind and heart with all the turbulence of a hurricane. She felt as if there were no ground beneath her feet. That the Undercity was cracking wider and deeper and swallowing her up. She looked to her son, and for a split second didn’t recognize him. It hurt and scared her. He seemed so far away, even though she could’ve reached out her hand and taken ahold of his.

She couldn’t believe he would do this. Couldn’t believe he’d be so reckless. So short-sighted. So foolhardy. So stupid. So ungrateful.

“What did you say?” Silco asked.

“I said you’re all ungrateful,” Enyd hissed. Her voice was venom, eyes flicking between her son and his two peers. “Reaching for more when you already have so much – “

“So much?!” Silco roared in disbelief. “How is barely scraping together a living so much? How is having our city cloaked in poisonous smog so much? How is having streets lined with homeless people so much? How is being denied access to trade routes so much? What about the exploitive labor? What about being segregated from Topside even though we’re citizens? The lack of schools and institutions? The lack of medical care? We have nothing.”

“It is so much more than I, or any other older Trencher ever had – “

“We deserve more!” Silco countered, eyes flashing wildly. “The whole of the Underground deserves more!”

“We can’ keep cowin’ t’them, Enyd,” Vander added. “They’re frothin’ at the bit, jus’ waitin’ for Bone t’die so things can go back to business as usual.”

Enyd’s mouth snapped shut as her throat tightened and her eyes prickled.

After a moment, she said, “This nonsense will break the Underground. It will only make things harder,” her eyes fell on Benzo’s wounded leg. “Families will be torn apart. People will die.”

“People are dying,” corrected Silco. His mother looked up at him, anger and disappointment doing its best to hide the fear that was clawing under her skin. “And I do not intend to live another day not fighting for the respect and rights Zaun deserves.”

A flicker of confusion flashed over Enyd’s face. Then understanding. Then deep resignation.

Slowly, she made to stand. Her body felt hollow and lead-heavy all at once. She brushed the creases from her skirt and looked between the three men – boys – once more.

“I don’t wish to talk about this anymore,” she said quietly. “Stop this now.”

Silco made to open his mouth, but Enyd held up a hand and her eyes flared in a demanding glower.

“Stop. This. Now.”

Her hand fell to her side and she took a long, grounding breath in. It caught in her throat and she trapped the following string of coughs in the crook of her elbow. She batted Silco away when he stepped forward to help her.

“No,” she wheezed through the last of the coughs, holding a warning finger up. She looked down at Katya, still slouched on the stool. “Take her home.”

Katya blinked and shook her head. “No, it’s alright. I can get home myself.”

“No,” Enyd repeated firmly. “Thanks to all of you, the Lanes are not safe.” Before she could catch her tongue, she added, “And I can’t stand to look at you right now.”

Giving her son one last caustic look, she stalked out of the room.

The shamed silence in the room hung heavy, no one knowing what to say.

“Let’s get you home,” Silco finally spoke, his voice quiet and removed. “We’ll go out the back way.”

Lifting onto shaky feet, Katya rose and bid Benzo good bye. Vander led the pair to the basement, past the secret storage room where the Children of Zaun met, and out the walk-out she and Sevika had used earlier in the week. She winced against the bite of the air as she stepped outside, the temperature having dropped significantly since she first arrived.

“Take care, Sister,” Vander said as she passed him.

Katya opened her mouth to thank him, but her voice got stuck in her throat. Instead, she nodded and tightened her coat around her. Vander’s eyes then landed on Silco. They pinched with worry. His muscular arms twitched, as if he had the urge to reach out for his Brother.

But he anchored them to his sides instead, and said, “I’ll check with you tomorrow, Sil.”

Silco tried to lift the corners of his mouth into a grateful curl, but the best he could manage was a minute nod. Vander returned back into The Drop, and Katya and Silco began the traipse back to her apartment.

The journey through the Lanes and into the derelict streets of the Sump was done in tight silence. Together, they wove in and out of narrow alleyways and clambered down rusted gangways and fire escapes. Wordlessly maneuvering around patrolling Enforcers.

When they arrived at Katya’s apartment door, she hesitated only a moment before reaching for her keys. A gnawing thought scratching at her throat as she unlocked the door gave her pause. She glanced over her shoulder at the man behind her. Silco stood a few feet away, hands tucked deep in his trouser pockets, boney shoulders hunched up to his ears, eyes tilted down to the tips of his boots. Katya suspected his posture had little to do with the sudden chill that had settled into the Undercity.

“She’s scared,” Katya spoke into the silence.

Silco’s head snapped to attention, his piercing eyes meeting hers. A nervous tick deepened the shadow of his left cheek and he pressed his tongue against it to stretch and sooth the muscle. Reluctant understanding rumbled in his throat, and his head gave a small, singular nod.

Spectral tendrils of mist formed around Katya’s mouth as a thin sigh escaped it. Her hand gripped the doorknob, intending to open it and sequester herself inside, but she felt a strange compulsion to stay.

“She’s scared,” she repeated. “She loves you and doesn’t want to lose you.”

Silco’s eyes softened and he nodded again. He turned to leave.

“Good night, Katya.”

“Good night, Silco.”

As quietly as she could, Katya slipped inside the dark apartment. Shrugging off her coat, she glanced through the kitchenette, pleased to see that Viktor had not left his textbook on the table. She crept silently down the hall to his bedroom, wincing with each step. Her damp trousers had chilled throughout the journey home and caused a heated chafed patch on her inner thigh; the fabric of her pants scraping over the stinging skin with each step.

Slowly and silently, she opened Viktor’s bedroom door and tip-toed inside. He was deep in slumber, wheezing breath low, steady, and even. Katya’s heart skipped a beat and she lowered herself onto her knees. Her throat squeezed and the same hot prickle stung behind her eyes. Her fingertips ached to reach out and take hold of the boy before her, but she couldn’t bring herself to risk waking him. Instead, she watched. The steady rise and fall of his body beneath the blanket. The occasional twitch of his feet or hands. The gentle flutter of his eyelids as he dreamed.

Did he dare to dream of a better life? Especially since he had more of a taste of what that life could be like, spending the majority of his time Topside. Did he know he deserved it? Did he know dreams could flourish into possibility? Like a scientific theory made into a universal law by consistent study and observation that affirmed it.

A careful tear ran down Katya’s cheek.

She loved him. And she was scared. And mortified at how she almost blew it at The Drop.

She needed the dream of Zaun to be bigger than her fear. She had to believe in its righteousness.

For Viktor.

For her.

She rose to her feet and softly kissed the top of her brother’s head before leaving his room. Quietly, she closed herself up in the bathroom and peeled off her urine-stained trousers and underwear. She removed her blouse and vest as well before turning on the shower. With a sigh, she gathered her soiled clothes and stepped under the sad, uneven flow of the spigot.

Katya cleaned herself and her clothes with a small bar of old soap that lived in the corner of the shower. She washed over her chafed skin with tender care, and crossly scrubbed at her trousers. It wasn’t long before the warm water ran out, and she hurriedly finished the impromptu laundry. With chattering teeth and shaking hands, she wrung out her hair, pants, and underwear. She wrapped a worn towel around her chilled frame and scurried into the living room, placing her damp clothes in front of the gurgling radiator.

She was distressed by how cold it had gotten since leaving earlier in the evening. Despite it being her own choice, she cursed Benzo for ruining her blanket; she would’ve covered Viktor with it on nights such as this. She plucked her coat from its peg and shuffled to her bedroom.

Divesting herself of the towel, Katya reached for and pulled on the undershirt Silco had given her, and a pair of underwear whose elastic had hardened and snapped, barely staying on her hips. Finally – fucking finally – Katya laid down in her own bed. She drew her knees tightly into her chest and covered as much of herself with the coat as she could. Her ankles and feet still stuck out from under the hem, but it was the best she could manage.

She closed her eyes, trying to ignore her numbing toes and go to sleep.

However, the stillness and absence of tasks proved only to rekindle the fear and shame that had gripped her earlier at The Last Drop. She managed to turn her face into her pillow and muffle the sudden sobs that tore through her. Her exhausted body shook under the coat and her limbs drew closer and tighter to her, looking for some kind of grounding comfort.

She missed her papa.

She missed her mama, even.

She was so scared. Scared of Enforcers. Scared of fucking up and endangering her brother. Scared of the very precarious edge she and he were living on. Scared of Piltover. Scared of herself and her own burgeoning wants. Scared of the realization of her own needs.

She wanted so badly to be held. To be cared for. To have help. To know that it wasn’t only her maneuvering through the shadows of the Undercity.

She wanted at least part of the life she was working so hard to manifest for Viktor.

Years and years of settling into and finding identity in the roles of doting daughter, selfless sister, and crafty caretaker warred against the new, and increasingly insistent, sense that she was so much more. That she could need and want; and could need and want outside of who she was to others.

The revelation that she deserved respect, to be cared for, to be held, wracked her in deep, soul-shattering waves. Katya’s body heaved and shook under her father’s coat. Her pillow became damp with tears and snot under her face as wail after wail ripped through her.

Eventually, her body and mind relented against the emotional onslaught and she tumbled into a heavy and dreamless sleep.

Silco wove aimlessly through the Sump and the Lanes after dropping Katya off at her home. His body thrummed in a strange mix of tingly numb and fiery anger as he walked. His teeth ground and his heart pounded.

He was not surprised that his mother wasn’t happy about what he had to say. However, what did take him aback was her strategy for dissuading him.

Ungrateful . . .

As if he should be sated and at peace with how Piltover treated the people of Zaun. As if he should just accept that their negligence and greed cost the Underground lives – including hers. As if living as second-class citizens was more than enough.

And then . . . not wanting to look at him. A rock, jagged and heavy with shame, dropped into his stomach at her words. They had never spoken to each other about his . . . sire. Although, Silco could remember the first time he had spied Rynweaver and his young mind had made the connection.

He had been seven, and working alongside his mother in the mines. She seemed on edge that day and Silco could not understand why. Worried and disgruntled whispers stirred through the tunnels that the mine’s owner was visiting, leading a gaggle of Piltie shareholders through his underground empire.

He and Vander sneaked away to see if they could spy the highfalutin crowd, to ogle and point at them as if they were zoo animals; to snigger and make rude jokes to each other about their silly, pompous clothes and overdone coifs.

They spied them between a pair of stalactites, and even though they volleyed degrading and childish remarks between each other, the humor couldn’t tamp down the hate gently simmering in Silco’s young belly. He hissed a particularly scathing remark about one person’s choice of jewelry that sent Vander doubling over in a fit of silent laughter. While his friend recovered, Silco peered back to the group and his eyes landed on a tall, thin man clad in understated, but regal, dark clothing. By the way the others addressed and interacted with him, he appeared to be the owner of the mine.

A deep, unfounded knowing settled into Silco’s small body at the sight of him. Maybe it was the texture of his hair, the curl of its tips rebelling against the heavy, shiny pomade slathered through it. It reminded Silco of his own scraggly waves. Or, perhaps, it was in the severe and pronounced cut and hook of his nose. Despite his youth, Silco’s nose was already beginning to develop a similar distinct ridge.

Nothing in that moment confirmed it, but Silco knew.

His mother’s sharp cry for him and Vander to rejoin her pulled him from his complicated epiphany. Both boys scampered back to her side, each getting a swat on the behind when they were within arm’s reach.

He had thought to ask her about it, as a seven-year-old typically does with questions, but when he watched her stiffen as Rynweaver and the group past the mouth of their tunnel, when she adjusted her stance to shield him from their eyes, he knew well enough not to ask.

As he grew older, as his understanding of how the relationship between the Undercity and Piltover worked, Silco learned just how she became to be saddled with him.

Stalking down an alley, he pulled his cigarette tin from his pocket and plucked a pre-rolled one out. He tucked the end between his lips and began to attempt striking a match. He grumbled when it wouldn’t catch after the first couple strikes, and stopped to focus on the task. His teeth clenched the cigarette tighter and tighter as the match refused to light. The head of the matchstick snapped off and so did the rest of Silco’s cool.

He roared and tossed the book of matches at the dumpster to his side, before gripping the rim of its open mouth and viciously kicking it. Over and over again, switching legs when one got tired, the skin of his knuckles stretched white with his iron grip. The dumpster clanged noisily against his assault and he was distantly aware that he was snarling and cursing up a storm. He didn’t care if anyone heard or saw. He was too far gone for opinions.

Suddenly, a hand reached for his shoulder and pulled him away from the bin. Silco growled and flailed at his interrupter.

“Okay, okay. You beat th’dumpster. Ya won,” Vander sighed, lifting the smaller man as easily as a ragdoll.

Silco scrabbled briefly against Vander’s arm before relenting and harshly shrugging out of his hold. Vander huffed a laugh and ducked down to pick up the matchbook and cigarette. Annoyingly, he stuck it between his lips, lit a match in one strike, and lifted the small flame to the cigarette’s end. He took a long drag, the paper and tobacco leaves crackling merrily as the embers ate away at them in a sunset glow. Silco scowled as he blew a plume of smoke into the air above them before handing him the cigarette. He snatched it away and possessively tucked it between his lips.

“What’re you doing here?” Silco snapped, taking a sharp breath of tobacco in. The warm smoke slid intoxicatingly against his insides and loosened the angry knots in his mind. “I thought you were handing out free drinks at The Drop.”

“Annie n’ Becks were doin’ alright on their own,” Vander answered. “I wanted t’come n’ find you. Make sure you were okay.”

“I’m fine,” was the grumbled reply, smoke being shot out like a dart from between thin lips.

Vander’s brows curled up and pinched together. “Sil – “

“It’s fine, Vander,” Silco hissed, voice strained and serrated.

After a beat, when Vander didn’t react or budge, Silco’s shoulders drooped. He took a slower, more thoughtful pull from his cigarette and sighed out the smoke, bringing his fingertips up to massage his forehead.

“It is what it is. We move forward.”

Vander stepped closer, and the arms that had twitched before finally lifted into an embrace. Silco half-heartedly wound his arms around his Brother, lit cigarette gently held between two fingers. He closed his eyes and leaned his head into the firm deltoid as if it were a pillow and Vander gently tightened his hold.

“’M sorry, Sil,” he murmured. “She’s – “

“Just scared,” Silco finished, patting Vander’s back and stepping out of the hug. “I know.”

He took one last drag from the cigarette before flicking it to the ground and stepping on it. Tar-thick disappointment encased his boots, but he still pressed on.

“C’mon. Let’s get back to The Dr – “

As he and Vander turned to continue down the alleyway, three imposing silhouettes greeted them. Enforcers barricaded their path, standing shoulder to shoulder in an intimidating wall of armor and glinting masks. The hair on the back of Silco’s neck stood on end, like the hackles of a cornered cat; Vander’s chest puffed and his back broadened as he stepped forward.

“Somethin’ the matter?” he growled.

“We were not fans of how you spoke to us and the Sheriff,” one of the Enforcers said. With their faces covered it was difficult to determine which of the three spoke.

Vander snorted. “I don’ remember speakin’ t’any of you. D’you, Sil?”

“Not worth the oxygen,” Silco remarked snidely. “Even if it weren’t so precious down here.”

The Enforcers agitatedly shifted on their heavy-soled boots.

“You Sump-rats are all the same,” one of the other Enforcers said. “Just dirty, little things forgetting their place.”

Vander felt Silco tense beside him and quickly threw a thick arm out to keep him from lurching forward. They couldn’t start a physical confrontation.

“So what?” Vander spat. “The Sheriff send you grunts back t’teach us some manners?”

The middle Enforcer took a step forward saying, “No. We’re just going to count this towards our volunteer hours at the E.A.”

“Three Enforcers against two Zaunites?” Silco mused. “Hardly seems fair.”

The two flanking Enforcers followed their peer, batons sizzling at their sides, the pronged tips crackling with blue electricity.

“That’s too bad, Sump – “

“I meant for you.”

Silco jockeyed to the left, spooking the rookie Enforcers and causing them to leap blindly toward him and Vander. The minute the center Enforcer’s hand curled around Vander’s collar, the beast that had strained against its leash in the presence of Sheriff LeDaird broke its chains. He gripped the Enforcer’s wrist and kneed him in the stomach. The man crumpled with a surprise cry, and Vander lifted and hurled him into the dumpster Silco had battled earlier. The Enforcer made to stand and was immediately knocked back into the bail by the heavy metal lid collapsing on top of him.

The right-side Enforcer launched after Silco, brandishing his baton. In a flash, Silco unsheathed the knife tucked into the inside of his waistband and swooped under the Enforcer’s arm. He rammed the hilt of his weapon deep into his assailant’s armpit. He grunted in pain and surprise, dropping his baton. It clattered away, sparks arcing and zapping through the air. Grabbing the Enforcer’s arm, Silco wove around his back and jerked it harshly, simultaneously kicking him behind the knees. There was a sickening pop from the Enforcer’s shoulder and a crack in his shins as he fell to the ground.

The third Enforcer hurdled toward Vander, baton aloft. The tall barman caught their forearm mid-swing and landed a punch in the center of their mask. The metal frame crumpled and the glass shades shattered. A muffled and pained wail mixed with the sound of metallic destruction echoed through the damp alley. Vander yanked their arm up higher and jabbed his fist repeatedly into their abdomen. From behind him, the first Enforcer finally flipped the lid of the dumpster. He threaded his baton around Vander’s neck and pulled back, choking him.

Silco thrusted his heel into the middle of his attacker’s back, effectively slamming the Enforcer to the ground. He leapt toward the loose baton that had rolled down the alley. As his fingers gripped its handle, a gloved hand shot out and grabbed his ankle. Silco tumbled to the ground, snarling and thrashing. He looked behind him and saw the Enforcer trying to clamber their way up his legs. He managed to yank his leg out of the Enforcers grip and kicked the heel of his boot through the left shade of their mask. They screamed and their grip lessened enough to let Silco focus on gripping the baton. Swinging it around, he brought the electrified tip to the open gouge in the mask and thrust it in. Sizzling flesh accompanied the screams. Silco watched in fascination as the threads of electricity rippled over the metal mask. He pulled the weapon back and swung the thick body of it across the Enforcer’s face, sending their mask skittering across the pavement. The Enforcer – a young man – groaned and flopped to the ground, his face blackened and bloodied.

Silco jumped up and drove the flickering end of the baton into the side of the Enforcer choking Vander. They cried out and the distraction was enough for his Brother to wrench free of the strangling hold behind him. Having full control of his body again, Vander put his height and weight to use. Both arms gripped at the Enforcer in front of him, lifting the surprised officer overhead and throwing him into the alley wall. The bricks and mortar cracked and crumbled, raining down on the tossed Enforcer in a dusty flurry.

The Enforcer in the dumpster swung his baton at Silco. The thin man crouched as the weapon whistled over his head. Before he could get away, the Enforcer reached down and took a handful of his hair in a painful grip. Silco waved his knife over his head, stabbing and cutting at the arm that held him. It wasn’t enough to keep the Enforcer from bringing the prongs of his baton to the junction of Silco’s neck and shoulder. He yelled as hot and sharp stabbing currents of electricity ripped through his frame.

It ended as quickly as it started – though the pain hummed through his body even after the prongs were pulled off his shoulder. Vander had swept in in a roaring fury. He shoved Silco aside and charged the last Enforcer. Gripping either side of the Enforcer’s helmet, Vander drove his head through his target’s. The Enforcer sagged in his bruising grip, clearly dazed, and Vander lifted him out of the dumpster and threw him against the same wall. His limp body tumbled on top of his peer and another shower of stone and cement dusted over them.

“Sil! Silco! You alright, mate?”

Vander sunk to his knees and hurriedly looked over his Brother. Silco grumbled and growled, propping himself up against the dumpster.

“I’m fine,” he mumbled, rolling his neck and shoulders.

“Lemme see.”

Vander carefully peeled the collar of his shirt back and inspected the two puncture wounds and the burned flesh around it.

“It’s fine, Vander,” Silco insisted. “Help me up.”

He gripped Vander’s forearms and rose onto unsteady feet. An uncomfortable shiver vibrated through his skeleton and his stomach curdled. He grit his teeth and ignored it. Instead, he turned his attention to the beaten and limp Enforcers.

“Let’s search them over and stack them against the wall.”

Together, they sat the three officers against the bricks. They stripped them of their masks and saw that all three were young cadets. It didn’t surprise either of them; it was an unspoken rite of passage, and a favorite pastime, for rookie officers to jump and beat unsuspecting Undercity dwellers. Any concern Vander or Silco had about them reporting an assault was assuaged by the fact that no cadet in their right mind would admit to losing a tussle to a couple Sump-rats.

They also searched their persons for other valuables. Vander emptied their wallets, and took their badges and batons; Silco stripped them of any personal affects. He was most excited about the small packet of cigars and silver lighter he found on one of them. He thought the scuffle may have been worth the trouble as he tucked his finds into his trouser pocket.

“Good night, gentlemen,” Silco whispered, his tone sickly sweet. He pat the one he stole the cigars from on the cheek. The Enforcer groaned and a bloody string of drool oozed down to his chest.

“’M sure they’ll send someone out t’look for ya,” Vander added cheerily.

Satisfied, the two friends stole into the cold night.

They returned to The Last Drop through the back entrance and deposited their findings (save for the cigars and lighter) in the storage room. They could use the batons and Vander would take the badges to Augmentation Alley and have them smelted down into weapons. He put the coin away in The Drop’s vault.

“I’m going to head home,” Silco said once their boon was stashed away.

Vander was preparing to head back to the bar and finish the night. He looked down at his bruised and swollen knuckles, watching his skin pull and bunch achingly over them as he flexed his fingers.

“Y’can stay here if y’want, Sil.”

A long sigh escaped Silco’s nose and he shook his head.

“I’ll come back if I need to,” he replied quietly. “Spare key in its usual spot?”

Vander nodded and ignored the heavy disappointment in his chest.

“Right, well . . . punch Benzo in his leg for me.”

Vander couldn’t help the small grin that flashed across his face.

The apartment was dark when Silco arrived home, his mother’s bedroom door shut. He felt caught between being relieved that she hadn’t waited up for him and hurt that she was still too angry to talk with him. To look at him.

He trudged towards the bathroom, dipping his head towards her door to listen for the wheezing whistle of her sleeping breath. He heard it, fought the urge to open the door and peek his head inside, and continued to the toilet.

He noticed the vial of medicine sitting on the rim of the sink. A wave of relief washed over him knowing that she had not behaved rashly and dumped it out. He couldn’t stand the thought of asking Katya for more help. Carefully picking the bottle up and holding it to the light, he swished the liquid inside. He didn’t know how many doses were left, hopefully several before he would have to bother the medic with it again. He'd rather his interactions with her didn’t hinge on him repeatedly asking for help.

He'd rather . . . He didn’t know. . . He’d rather just . . . interact with her.

Setting the bottle back down, Silco gently pulled the collar of his shirt down and inspected the welt on his shoulder. It wasn’t too bad. Sore, red, and angry, but if he cleaned it and patched it, it should heal without much fuss. He was pleased that it was far enough down the slope of his shoulder that it could be easily hidden under a shirt. His mother needn’t add this to her list of worries.

After tending to the wound and brushing his teeth, Silco shut himself up in his room. He stored his knives and whet stone away in their floorboard cubby and changed into patched thermals for sleep.

The pack of cigars and the lighter he had pulled from the Enforcer tumbled out of his trouser pocket as he went to fold them. He swiped them up and paused, gently feeling over the soft give of the book and the satisfying heft of the lighter in his hands.

He’d never smoked a cigar before. He had looked upon the few offerings his favorite tobacco shop had with curiosity when he went to restocked his cheap, loose tobacco leaf and papers. Even the ones in the Undercity were too expensive, but he liked how they smelled and his addicted tongue salivated with interest.

Fetching the smallest of his blades back out from their secret case, Silco settled himself in the sill of his bedroom window, Katya’s warning echoing in his ears.

“You may already know this but don’t smoke around your mother. It’s bad for her condition.”

He jostled the window open a sliver and the cold outside wasted no time bleeding the warmth out of his bedroom. Silco ignored it and pulled one of the cigars out of the packet. It was the color of well-lacquered wood and the tightly rolled leaves felt like the pages of an old, dense book. He remembered the tobacco shop proprietor saying that cigar ends needed to be trimmed before lighting. Silco carefully pinched the end between his thumb and small blade, slicing through the soft, dried leaves in a fluttering chunk. The smell that emanated from the cut leaves was pungent and thick. He couldn’t think of any other way to describe it but luxurious.

Tentatively grasping the rolled end between his teeth, Silco took up the lighter and ran his thumb over the spark wheel. A small orange flame flashed into existence with a quiet crackle. Nostrils flaring in disgust, awe, and jealousy he brought the licking, searching fire to the raw edges of the cigar. He was vaguely aware that smoking a cigar was different from smoking a cigarette.

Once the blunt end of it glowed ember warm, he delicately drew the rich smoke back into his mouth in small puffs. The warm spice of the smoke coated his mouth and tongue like a rich, fatty meal. Silco lifted his chin and blew the smoke out through the window. It was thick, dense, and white. It hovered and swirled much longer than the fumes his cigarettes produced. Only a couple times did he drag on the cigar too deeply, causing the smoke to scratch in hot pin-pricks down his trachea. He sputtered, clearing his throat, and readjusted his tactic.

Sitting there, bunched up on a rotting window sill, in his worn and patched pajamas, looking out over Zaun, smoking his first cigar, the steady, insistent feeling of injustice lapped at his insides. The truth that the people of Zaun deserved more than Piltover’s runoff weighed heavy in his heart like a guiding stone. The cigar between his fingers felt like a right – not a prize, not a trophy, not something he had to beat down sniveling Enforcers for. A right, just like he and his people had to clean air and fresh food. He would fight to get them that.

He promised himself that this would be his first of many, many cigars.

“You shouldn’t smoke anyway. It’s bad for you, too.”

Katya’s voice murmured through his head again once half the cigar was gone. He plucked it from his lips and blew the smoke out the window. Silco’s eyes roved over the smoldering roll between his fingers before he gently tamped it out on the outside of the building. He pulled the window shut, hid the cigars and lighter, and went to bed.

He dreamt of Zaun, cigar smoke, and a warm, satisfying weight in his arms.

Notes: Hey you. Thanks for reading :-* Please show this story some love by commenting/reblogging; I really appreciate it!

Message me if you want to be tagged :)

Coming Up Next: Silco and Enyd have a heart-to-heart and there is an accident at the mines.

Next Chapter

Taglist: @pinkrose1422@dreamyonahill@altered-delta

#silco #silco fanfic #arcane #arcane fanfic #young silco #silco x oc #silco x katya #silkat #vander #young vander #benzo #young benzo #my writing #children of zaun #coz

[immortalbumblebee]

Chapter 16: Iron Shackles

Whoops! I forgot to post for a few months again...super long chapter this time, tho! Masterlist

As bright neon cast through your window and into your closed eyes, you couldn’t help but grumble. A truly rude awakening, only worsened as the early-winter cold seeped through your blankets and into your bones, your still-sleeping mind mourning the peaceful slumber you'd been experiencing just moments ago. But there was still hope; a nearby heat source, just to your side. You turned and curled into the warm body next to you, nuzzling your nose into the crook of the person’s neck. In response, a low growl is emitted from the body. “You’re cold…”

“And you’re nice and warm…” You ignored his complaints, tightening your arm around Vander as you cuddled in closer under your patchwork quilt. Your naked bodies seemed to meld together, you sapping his excess warmth in an attempt to fend off the creeping chill. However, as your mind continued to slowly wake up, you remembered that if the neon lights had found their way into your window, that meant it was nearing dusk, and dusk meant that Benzo and Silco would be home soon from work.

Just a couple of moments longer…

Vander’s breathing regulated once more, a low snore coming from his partially open lips, and you giggled a little to yourself at the sound. Feeling his chest rise and fall under you, your fingers began to run up and down his pectorals, combing through his chest hair as you blindly traced the area where you knew one of his tattoos (a hound skull) lay. Even though he needed a shower from your earlier activities, his natural pleasant scent of musk and smoke made you content. A reminder of him. As you placed a small kiss on his jawline, his arm instinctively tightened its hold around you. Damn this man.

After another selfish moment of indulging yourself with cuddles, you began to rouse your body. Your muscles ached as they were hit with the wave of cold, and your joints complained as you moved to stand. Stretching, you tried your best to ease the stiffness and aching feelings, and you thankfully got a couple of ‘pops’ from your joints, but much of the soreness remained. The thrills of adulthood, you supposed.

“Nice bum.” You could hear Vander’s smile even before looking back at him. He patted the spot next to him, the old grey sheets just as much patchwork as the quilt atop it. “You should bring it back here.”

Picking up what you knew to be his shirt, you handed it to him. “We need to get up. You need a shower and I need to start on dinner before Benzo and Silco get home.” You emphasize the guy’s names, hopefully reminding him why there was a certain need for urgency. But he just rolls onto his back, propping his arms under his head.

“You could always join me in the shower..? Save on water and all that, plus you get all this glorious body heat you love so much?” He smirked, and you rolled your eyes. To add insult to injury, you noticed the way he tensed his muscles, showing off the pure muscle that lay under that calloused, tanned skin. Emphasizing the broadness of his shoulders, the bulk of his biceps, his pectorals, his abs. The trick worked for a moment, feeling a familiar heat rise into your ears as your eyes remained trapped on his torso, tracing over every line and scar with detail. But as he began to flex his pecs, bouncing them one at a time, you shook your head in exasperation and began rifling through your drawers trying to find a clean pair of underwear and a semi-clean sports bra. Vander laughed loudly, filling the room with the warmness of his laughter.

“I can’t promise anything fancy for dinner tonight, but I figure we’ll get more food afterwards when we get post-fight drinks anyways.” You explain as you search, ignoring your lover’s immaturity. “Benzo’s got the bill tonight, it’s his turn.”

“Oi. Pretty, naked lady.”

Looking over your shoulder, you find Vander looking back at you. He still hasn’t put on his shirt, but he has crawled over to the other side of the bed so he’s now sitting closer to you, feet planted on your cluttered floor. He’s got an eyebrow raised, and your motions still as you fully turn to face him. His eyes don’t leave yours. “I love you.”

Damn this man, indeed. Damn him and the butterflies he sets free in your stomach.

Taking the single step it takes to get from your dresser to your bed, you sidle back up into Vander’s heat. He welcomes you happily, hands enveloping your waist and lightly pulling you into him. You cup either side of his jaw. This time his eyes do leave yours, taking just a fraction of a second to scan down your body. But they’re back up, holding your gaze before you can say anything. You lean down ever so slightly to take his lips into yours, and you feel his hands tighten around you. It’s a soft kiss, tender; just a simple close-mouthed kiss, but you try ever so hard to press all your feelings into it.

As you pull away, you press one more little peck to his lips. “I love you too.”

He seems content with this, grey eyes sparkling against the neon from outside. “I think some of your clothes are in one of the baskets in the hall.” Kissing him quickly one more time, you thank him before rushing out your door to rifle through the several baskets of forgotten and unfolded, but clean laundry. Amid your digging around, you come across two solid boxing gloves; black, patched in a few places but more evident was the distinct painting of a brown hound on each mitt.

“Oi, Van.” You peek back into your room to see Vander finally standing, stretching. You raise your hands, showing him the mitts and his face immediately breaks out into a toothy grin.

“There they are!!!” He exclaims, speed-walking over and taking the mitts into his own hands. He feels over the worn leather like he’s worshipping them, thumb tracing over the hound printing, matching his tattoo, as if he’s greeting an old friend. Those gloves had been a gift from Mikael on his eighteenth birthday when Vander’s father finally came around and approved of the fights as a way of making more money outside of the mines. “I’ve been looking for these for weeks! Thought someone had pinched them at the ring.”

“They could use some care.” You point to a new rip in one of the seams, your eyes carefully taking note of the gloves. You’d seen them a thousand times over the years, even watched him do repairs on them in the past. But for some reason, there and now, seeing them…your mind began to turn with ideas. “You know…you wouldn’t need to sew them nearly as much if they were metal. Could do some serious damage too, instead of padding your punches. Maybe some cast iron or titanium, y’know, something solid. Something to use in a real fight."

Vander’s eyes only look up for a moment, still intensely focused on the gloves in his hands as he begins to slide them on, stretching his fingers to see that they still fit as perfectly as ever. They do. “Metal’d hurt my hands more, wouldn’t it?”

Your mind is still in engineering mode before you finally turn your attention back to the basket of clothes.

You’ve barely been able to put on some clothes and start throwing together some food when the guys shamble into your shared home, feet heavy against the creaking hardwood floors but chatting casually amongst each other.

“We’re home!” Benzo calls, louder than he needs to.

“How was work?” You ask, barely looking up from the canned peas you were trying to open. They looked exhausted, both with dark circles weighing down their faces. Both had been working the mines today, so were already in fairly tattered clothes, but also displayed the new signs of a long day’s worth of hard work. A thick layer of grime, sweat, and coal dust coated their entire bodies.

Silco grumbled as he kicked off his boots, the thick rubber soles falling to the floor with a loud ‘thunk’. “Fucking awful, as per usual down in that shithole.” He continues on one of his normal tirades about the mines. The dirtbag supervisors, the shitty conditions, the kids sent there who are forced to work just as the three of them had. Benzo only hummed in agreement as he took off his own work shirt and sat at the dinner table, exhaustion evident in his face. But when a rasping cough left Benzo's chest, the sick sound of years' worth of smoke and chemicals exiting his lungs, there was a long pause. Cautious hesitation as the tell-tale miner's cough lingered like a bad omen in the apartment. But after a moment, the three friends resumed casually, trying to ignore the heavy feelings that seemed to consume all their hearts.

“When’s the next mine shift you’ve got, anyways Silco?” You ask, voice cracking ever so slightly. Benzo notices, and sends you a look but you can’t tell if it’s out of guilt, shame or apology.

“Day after tomorrow.” He shrugs, mind obviously only half-interested in the conversation as he shies away from the room. His eyes refuse to meet Benzo, who now only stares down at the wood grain of the table. “I’ve got a messenger shift in the morning, then I’ve got that job at the docks again.”

“Right…” You nod, just as absent-mindedly.

Just as you’re finishing up your concoction of stew, putting together anything in the pantry that would work, Vander stepped out of the bathroom, towel wrapped securely around his waist. Water droplets fall from his soft brown curls, rolling over his cheekbones before falling onto his broad, exposed chest.

“You two look like shit.” Vander’s booming voice laughed. “As per usual.”

“Yeah, laugh it up, big guy.” Silco rolled his eyes, reaching into their shared room to grab his own towel. “See how you look after your fight tonight.”

Benzo drudgingly reaches into his pocket, pulling out his notebook and flipping open to the most recent page. “Speaking of, I checked in today, the odds tonight are in Vander’s favour for his fight, but for Min's…”

“She’s fighting Sevika, who’s two weight classes above her. Not to mention she, like, never wins against her.” Silco noted. “So yeah, I can believe that the bets against her are, to say, not great.”

You feel a small wave of anxiety hit you. “Thanks for the vote of confidence…”

“That’s the point of the underdog, ain’t it?” Vander asks, crossing the apartment to slide in next to you just as you begin spooning bowls. He grabs a bowl from your hands, fingers lingering for just a millisecond longer than needed as they meet. “Coming out on top, despite the odds, and racking in that good money.”

The feeling that swelled up in your chest was nothing short of exhilarating. All but buzzing, and you couldn’t even try to hide the grin that began to break out onto your lips, even with Silco and Benzo around. Memories of your past, long nights of fights where Vander would reprimand you for taking risks and fighting above your class, all feeling just a little farther away now. Now fueled by new-found confidence, your shoulders squared as you quickly filled three other bowls. “It’s still important to side with caution, though.” You nod. “Fight smart, play to my strengths.”

“Atta girl.” He applauds, winking at you before walking away. In your excitement, you don’t notice the cold, bitter look in Silco’s eyes before he ducks into the bathroom but you do hear him shut the door harder than needed, the rusted hinge popping slightly at the force. His reaction catches Vander’s attention more than yours though, and his eyes still on the door for a moment. You set a bowl in front of Benzo, who had been all but ignorant of the conversation, looking over his notebook still.

“I’ve got word on a job top-side in two nights time, could be a decent payout.” He explained, rubbing his face tiredly. You take his book out of his hands, pocketing it as you hand him a spoon instead.

“Benz, you’re exhausted.” You explain. “Quit working for two seconds and eat dinner before we have to drag your ugly mug to see the doc, aye?” For a moment, he looks like he’s about to fight you on this, but he eventually sighs and nods, grabbing the spoon.

***

The chime of the bell is a shrill sound, screeching over the cheers from the audience. They all sounded faded to you as you raised your fists again, ignoring the pulsing pain emanating from your right ass cheek. The dreaded score floating around stubbornly in your mind.

Sevika: 1

Minerva: 0

Your eyes hardened on the woman in front of you, her smirk showing off her crooked teeth. Her dark, shoulder-length hair was tied in a loose ponytail with strands falling out to her face.

“It's no fun fighting you without your magic, Minerva!” She called out. “Like fighting half a woman.”

You huffed out an empty laugh, hopping up on the balls of your feet. “What can I say, you could use the handicap advantage.”

Her smirk deepens, and she steadies for a moment. Tell-tale sign. She pauses, crouches, then explodes; lunging herself at you with her left arm curling upwards in a scythe-like motion. You side-step her body, using the height difference to your advantage as you duck under her arm only to bounce back up on the other side. She stops short, heavier momentum making her slower as she whirls around back at you. Same move, a swing of her arm, you sidestep and duck. But she’s not dumb, she knows you’re evasive manouvers and her hand opens over you. Before you have time to react, she’s grabbed your face and is throwing you back into the ropes.

Crap.

You bounce off the rubber barriers, trying to steady yourself you turn on your heel. But the loss of balance throws off your normally very fluid motions. You're distracted. She sees this, it’s what she banks on, and she’s already lunging. This time, her punch lands, and next thing you know your already-crooked nose flashes with pain as it directly connects with her padded fists.

Ouch

You don’t quite lose balance but are just barely able to duck under her. She pulls back again, but you're able to slide under her and dodge to the other side of the ring. You can already feel the damage to your cartilage, the smarting only barely dulled by your adrenaline as the familiar coppery scent of blood fills your nose. You’re definitely going to have a black eye in the morning. Sevika uses the moment to right herself too, straightening her shoulders as she faces you again. You stare at her dead-on.

Think Minerva. What is her body language saying?

She swarms you again, using her size to trap you into the corner. But your fist goes up before she meets you, swinging up and connecting square with her jaw. It’s not a dead-on hit, but it’s enough to throw off her heavy-fighter attack and provides just enough time to swing out of her way, behind her so you land an elbow to her left kidney. She stumbles forward, and you speed back towards her as her back faces you. Grappling her shoulder, you manage to land a couple more hits before she steadies herself enough to shove you off. She throws you like you weigh next to nothing, but she’s been stunned so you manage to catch yourself and fall only a couple of feet away. You land, semi-steadily, on your knee as your hand slides back to catch your fall. A drop of blood falls from your nose and onto the ring below, the surface already covered in several layers of dried crimson.

One of Sevika’s knees gives out, probably from the jab to her kidney, and she needs to steady herself before she can do anything else. But once she’s facing you again, you’re pushing off on the ball of your foot and slamming your knee into the front of her face. There's a definite 'crack' from her nose, and you feel something shift under your knee just as she crumples down to the floor.

The ref is running in to separate the two of you, but you’re already backing off, letting him count. 1…2…3…She’s still down.

His whistle blows. The round is over.

Your point.

You’re howling in victory, fist up in the air as the audience reacts. Mostly in loud groans, unhappy patrons who bet against you. Their loss, you’re making fucking bank tonight.

Set aside from the groans are the cries of excitement, and you make out your boys’ faces in the back. Benzo and Vander are howling in cheers, as is Niya who’s got one of Benzo’s arms wrapped around her shoulders. Even Silco’s giving you a round of applause. Next to him, you spot Skye and Narco, with little Violet in her father’s arms. She's got a pair of fluffy earmuffs over her ears, poking out from the mop of bright pink hair. When you meet eyes with the young girl, she cheers louder, arms up in the air and the biggest, cutest smile on her face.

Oh yeah, you think, this fight is yours.

After a few minutes of rest time, the ref is calling for the next round and you immediately turn to face Sevika again. She’s already standing, tightening the wrist of her gloves with her teeth. She doesn’t look mad, or even disappointed. In fact, she’s smiling.

“Lucky shot, islander.” She barks to you. It’s tough talk, but you see the adrenaline in her eyes. You two have been sparring for years, two of the most well-known female fighters in the Underground's league despite being of completely different weight classes and specializations. She was just as loyal to the revolution as you were, had been to just as many rallies, and had even once started a small strike in the mines a couple of years ago; you were friends. She knew this was a victory for you, and she was proud of you. “Let’s see you try that again without dodging like a pussy this time, yeah?”

You wipe at your nose, smearing the partially dried blood onto your hand wrappings. “Depends, you going to stop fighting like a rhino and actually switch it up on me?”

She chuckles, but only for a moment. She lunges faster this time, which surprises you. But you’re too hyped up on adrenaline and courage from your win, you stay your ground and ball your fists. You try for another uppercut. Wrong choice. She latches onto your arm, grabbing ahold of it from under her and immediately throwing you to the ground.

Okay, not your smartest moment.

You try and scramble up, try and get the floor back under your feet, but she’s on you before you can. Straddling your chest, fists already coming down. She cracks your face, connecting to your cheekbone. Another, the other side, this time your jaw. Your mind is already getting a little dizzy, but you manage to buck your hips up, knocking her off balance just enough to squeeze your knees out from under her and tucking them into your chest. Balls of your feet to her chest, kick, push. It takes a couple tries, but she’s eventually knocked off you and you spring back, a little wobbly, onto your feet. Thankfully, it takes her longer to stand than it takes you, and you're able to deliver your kneecap swiftly to her nose. She dodges, making you hit her temple instead. Less effective, but still disorients her a little. But it also knocks you off balance, your mind still reeling from her last attack, and you have to stumble before you can right yourself properly. She stands back up.

“Very sloppy, ‘nerva!” She calls, still smirking but this time not out of kindness. “Here I thought you were the smart one.”

You brush off the insult, it’s mostly for show anyway, and plant your feet more firmly in place. Let’s try this again, shall we?

She’s too close to properly lunge at you, but her fist still comes down in that arching strike. You swing your arm out, momentum stopping her attack if just barely. She’s taller than you, but you’re still able to hook your arm around hers, pinning it to your side as you punch back up, this time your uppercut actually landing. She steps back, but your firm footing keeps you both right there. You hit her again, this time a hook to her eye, then another. Landing hits as fast as you can before elbowing her in the jaw and letting go of her arm. She stumbles back, suddenly falling victim to her own gravity and the force of your hit. She’s holding her jaw, which will likely bruise quite well. You look forward to poking that bruise later tonight at the bar.

“Better for you, Sev?” You chime over the screaming crowd. Your head is still ringing, and that tangy copper aroma is thick in your nose and mouth. But you’re still standing. You go to lunge at her this time, maybe even jump at her if you can get the leverage. But something’s wrong. Something changes in the air.

A familiar vibration, your magic picking up on a metallic thrum. Thick, deep, like a low bass note. It doesn’t belong here, it’s not like any of the metal vibrations you feel around the Underground. But you know that you’ve worked on it in the past, you know its inner workings. You’ve felt it move under your touch.

On the factory floor.

When you fight enforcers.

Their muskets.

It clicks in your mind. Exactly what Morichi’s factory produced, exactly what the metal you were working with was being used for.

And you could feel them around you. Like mosquitoes.

Your mouth is calling out before your mind is even aware your lips are moving.

“Enforcers!”

It’s too late. They’re already storming into the building, the doors of the arena slamming open. A small army of enforcers, fully armed, swarm into the space. Their guns are out, pointing around the once-cheering crowds. People begin to scream, many people running every which way towards various exits. Other people, including you, Sevika, and the guys are running up towards the guards. Vander’s already got one, slamming his bare fist into the guy’s metal mask hard enough that with a loud ‘thwunk’, the guy collapses. Similar to Sevika, who hops the ropes to slam her full bodyweight onto one enforcer in particular, grabbing another one to slam his head into the exterior wall of the ring. You’re about to hop down yourself when a flash of pink catches your eye, and you zero in on one enforcer in particular who has his gun pointed straight at Narco, who’s shielding his wife and daughter, bare-fisted and staring the officer down.

You don’t even think twice. Dashing toward them, hand out, you latch your magic onto that Enforcer’s gun and snatch it over to you. The moment it lands into your hands your over the ropes and down next to Narco, slamming the butt of the rifle straight into the Enforcer’s shoulder. Red fills the corners of your vision as you use your free hand to latch onto the guy’s chest plate, lifting him with ease and flinging him across the room like a ragdoll. You shove the gun into Narco’s empty hands, grabbing hold of another officer’s nearby, grabbing the firearm for yourself. You’re about to aim it when the air shatters like glass, a shot rings through the arena. Immediately, the entire space goes from pure mayhem to dead silent, enough to hear your own heart beating, thudding like it wanted to spring out of your chest.

The whole room freezes as Captain Grayson walks in through the busted door, pistol held high with a thin trail of smoke emitting out of the barrel.

You could drown in the silence of that room it was so heavy. The whole world seemed to stand still as all eyes fell on the female chief, not a single soul of the Underground even dared to breathe as she lowered her gun and holstered it. Then she spoke, her voice projected loud enough that it seemed to echo like the bullet from her gun.

“Ladies and gentlemen of the Fissures,” She announces, “apologies for the interruption.” Her eyes are searching, scanning the crowds. Your eyes dart to your friends, Silco’s got a knife held up against the throat of the Enforcer he has pinned up against the stands, and Vander’s got one under each arm, and another under his boot. But Benzo’s openly holding his side as he stands at the receiving end of one of the damned metal barrels. You’re too busy focusing on them, and on that frequency that the metal guns give off, that you don’t even notice when Grayson’s eyes land on you. She points. 

“Her.”

One of the Enforcers behind you grabs your arm, making you drop the gun. Immediately, you fight back, landing your elbow to his helm. But it only knocks him back an inch. You turn and grab his chest plate like you had the other guy, but before you can throw him, one of his comrades manages to swat you, pushing you onto the floor, barely being able to catch yourself on your hands. You hear a couple of people shout out your name before you feel a heavy metal leg pressing down onto your back, pinning you to the ground. They move, straddling your body and catching your hands, pinning them uncomfortably behind you. You can’t move them. No hands, no magic. Shit.

“Let me g-!” You scream, but the person on top of you grabs your head and slams it into the hard concrete. The world gets a lot more dizzy.

“Minerva, you’re being arrested for the physical assault and attempted murder of Officer Grant Thompson-” “Who?!” You’re ignored, and you feel the cold metal of handcuffs being shackled onto your wrists. “You will be taken into police custody until an official preliminary decision is made by the council…” He goes on for a while, but your mind is spinning too quickly to listen to him clearly. Heavy boots walk towards you, and you’re barely able to strain your eyes up enough to see Grayson towering up over you. She hands something to the man on top of you, it looks like a roll of thick tape.

“Wrap her hands. She can’t be able to move them.”

The officer only pulls you up once your hands are completely mummified in the thick, sticky material. Even if your head was clear enough for you to focus on your magic, your hands were literally stuck together. Around you, everyone; Vander, Benzo, Silco, even Sevika, Narco, and Skye. All of them are held at gunpoint as they try and wrestle towards you. Violet’s crying out in loud sobs. Your eyes meet Vander’s, and you swear you’ve never seen his eyes so full of rage. You want to call out to him, but Grayson’s hands grab your jaw and force your head to face her.

“I promised you there would be consequences to your actions.”

You can’t think of what to say. Your head hurts too much. So you spit on her boots, a giant glob of saliva and blood. She stares down at it, apathetically, then waves her hand. The man tightly holding your cuffs pushes you towards the door. You try and fight back, stumbling up to him with a snarl, but he lands a firm right hook to your face, which sends you collapsing onto the ground. Distantly, you hear Vander’s voice call out to you again.

Too bad you couldn’t have dodged him like Sevika.

You’re forced to your feet again, and this time all but carried out the door. You can't move enough to fight back and aren't really even sure which direction you're heading. Everything is so woozy... As you descend into the darkness of the night, you hear Grayson’s voice address the crowds once more.

“Apologies again for the interruption. You all have a good night.

#arcane #arcane netflix #arcane fanfic #arcane fanfiction #arcane league of legends #vander arcane #vander x reader #Vander x OC #arcane vi #arcane silco #arcane vander #arcane benzo #arcane sevika #young silco #young benzo #young vander #oc fanfic #original character #reader insert

[cocklessboy]

The biggest male privilege I have so far encountered is going to the doctor.

I lived as a woman for 35 years. I have a lifetime of chronic health issues including chronic pain, chronic fatigue, respiratory issues, and neurodivergence (autistic + ADHD). There's so much wrong with my body and brain that I have never dared to make a single list of it to show a doctor because I was so sure I would be sent directly to a psychologist specializing in hypochondria (sorry, "anxiety") without getting a single test done.

And I was right. Anytime I ever tried to bring up even one of my health issues, every doctor's initial reaction was, at best, to look at me with doubt. A raised eyebrow. A seemingly casual, offhand question about whether I'd ever been diagnosed with an anxiety disorder. Even female doctors!

We're not talking about super rare symptoms here either. Joint pain. Chronic joint pain since I was about 19 years old. Back pain. Trouble breathing. Allergy-like reactions to things that aren't typically allergens. Headaches. Brain fog. Severe insomnia. Sensitivity to cold and heat.

There's a lot more going on than that, but those were the things I thought I might be able to at least get some acknowledgement of. Some tests, at least. But 90% of the time I was told to go home, rest, take a few days off work, take some benzos (which they'd throw at me without hesitation), just chill out a bit, you'll be fine. Anxiety can cause all kinds of odd symptoms.

Anyone female-presenting reading this is surely nodding along. Yup, that's just how doctors are.

Except...

I started transitioning about 2.5 years ago. At this point I have a beard, male pattern baldness, a deep voice, and a flat chest. All of my doctors know that I'm trans because I still haven't managed to get all the paperwork legally changed, but when they look at me, even if they knew me as female at first, they see a man.

I knew men didn't face the same hurdles when it came to health care, but I had no idea it was this different.

The last time I saw my GP (a man, fairly young, 30s or so), I mentioned chronic pain, and he was concerned to see that it wasn't represented in my file. Previous doctors hadn't even bothered to write it down. He pushed his next appointment back to spend nearly an hour with me going through my entire body while I described every type of chronic pain I had, how long I'd had it, what causes I was aware of. He asked me if I had any theories as to why I had so much pain and looked at me with concerned expectation, hoping I might have a starting point for him. He immediately drew up referrals for pain specialists (a profession I didn't even know existed till that moment) and physical therapy. He said depending on how it goes, he may need to help me get on some degree of disability assistance from the government, since I obviously shouldn't be trying to work full-time under these circumstances.

Never a glimmer of doubt in his eye. Never did he so much as mention the word "anxiety".

There's also my psychiatrist. He diagnosed me with ADHD last year (meeting me as a man from the start, though he knew I was trans). He never doubted my symptoms or medical history. He also took my pain and sleep issues seriously from the start and has been trying to help me find medications to help both those things while I go through the long process of seeing other specialists. I've had bad reactions to almost everything I've tried, because that's what always happens. Sometimes it seems like I'm allergic to the whole world.

And then, just a few days ago, the most shocking thing happened. I'd been wondering for a while if I might have a mast cell condition like MCAS, having read a lot of informative posts by @thebibliosphere which sounded a little too relatable. Another friend suggested it might explain some of my problems, so I decided to mention it to the psychiatrist, fully prepared to laugh it off. Yeah, a friend thinks I might have it, I'm not convinced though.

His response? That's an interesting theory. It would be difficult to test for especially in this country, but that's no reason not to try treatments and see if they are helpful. He adjusted his medication recommendations immediately based on this suggestion. He's researching an elimination diet to diagnose my food sensitivities.

I casually mentioned MCAS, something routinely dismissed by doctors with female patients, and he instantly took the possibility seriously.

That's it. I've reached peak male privilege. There is nothing else that could happen that could be more insane than that.

I literally keep having to hold myself back from apologizing or hedging or trying to frame my theories as someone else's idea lest I be dismissed as a hypochondriac. I told the doctor I'd like to make a big list of every health issue I have, diagnosed and undiagnosed, every theory I've been given or come up with myself, and every medication I've tried and my reactions to it - something I've never done because I knew for a fact no doctor would take me seriously if they saw such a list all at once. He said it was a good idea and could be very helpful.

Female-presenting people are of course not going to be surprised by any of this, but in my experience, male-presenting people often are. When you've never had a doctor scoff at you, laugh at you, literally say "I won't consider that possibility until you've been cleared by a psychologist" for the most mundane of health problems, it might be hard to imagine just how demoralizing it is. How scary it becomes going to the doctor. How you can internalize the idea that you're just imagining things, making a big deal out of nothing.

Now that I'm visibly a man, all of my doctors are suddenly very concerned about the fact that I've been simply living like this for nearly four decades with no help. And I know how many women will have to go their whole lives never getting that help simply because of sexism in the medical field.

If you know a doctor, show them this story. Even if they are female. Even if they consider themselves leftists and feminists and allies. Ask them to really, truly, deep down, consider whether they really treat their male and female patients the same. Suggest that the next time they hear a valid complaint from a male patient, imagine they were a woman and consider whether you'd take it seriously. The next time they hear a frivolous-sounding complaint from a female patient, imagine they were a man and consider whether it would sound more credible.

It's hard to unlearn these biases. But it simply has to be done. I've lived both sides of this issue. And every doctor insists they treat their male and female patients the same. But some of the doctors astonished that I didn't get better care in the past are the same doctors who dismissed me before.

I'm glad I'm getting the care I need, even if it is several decades late. And I'm angry that it took so long. And I'm furious that most female-presenting people will never have this chance.

#transgender #queer #transmasc #lgbtqia+ #trans man #sexism #medical sexism #feminism #male privilege

[conretewings]

A little snippet of the story I'm currently working on for my lovely followers. As a treat.

@archerofthemists @barbersjoy @vander-affectionate @immortalbumblebee @catgoblinchelly @band--psycho

#arcane fanfic #fic wip #arcane vander #young vander #arcane benzo #young benzo #arcane silco #young silco #arcane oc #arcane vander x oc #I'm really happy with this one so far

[wu-sisyphus-gang]

Winter: What all is your boyfriend on?

Weiss: Antipsychotics and amphetamines and weed and opioid painkillers and he sometimes drops acid and benzos and alcohol.

Winter: And that’s okay. You’re okay with that.

Weiss: It’s so high functioning what can I say?

Winter: No. You can say no.

Weiss: But he’s so normal. It’s like he’s not shaking his brain up.

Winter: But he is.

Weiss: But. Okay. Jaune has problems. But he’s honest and kind and he’s handling our profession well. Who am I to really say that it’s wrong.

Winter: Even if he’s destroying himself.

Weiss: Yes! Right? Like he’s coping. In a profession most hunters die young often. And he’s coping. How can I really say what he’s doing is wrong?

#winter schnee #rwby #rwby incorrect quotes #jaune arc #weiss schnee #whiteknight #white knight #tw drugs

[redrum-alice]

TimeBomb ⏳️💣✨️ Tangled AU headcanons again because why not---

May or may not include repeated hcs bc i domt read them after theyre posted lololol---

Ekko HCs

Instead of his nose, piltover enforcers kept getting Ekko's face mark wrong on his wanted posters (they either put apple, unicorn, heart, or a d*ck on his face-)

Ladies Man: Every girl and young woman who happens to come across his posters or who have heard of him have been fawning over him; they have this notion that if they leave a science book or a trinket on their window at night, he'll come visit and sweep them off their feet...of course that doesn't happen and there's only a 50% chance he'll pick it up or not (probs bc he already stole a copy of that book or that the trinket doesn't interest him).

He's the big brother (along with Scar) of their community called "Firelights" where most refugees reside. He gets along with kids a lot and invite him to play Tag with them when he's not busy. (Bonus: he babysits Scar's baby when he's away)

Short Lore: Ekko was orphaned at a very young age and was left to fend for himself as a pick pocket along with other kids. By the time he was old enough to pick up a book, Benzo adopted him and made him as his apprentice at the age of 9. It all ended when Enforcers and Chembarons terrorized Zaun due to Shimmer. Scar eventually found him and became his big brother. Rest is history of them building a sanctuary for people in need.

Ekko is pretty much a book worm. Unlike kids his age when he was young, he would steal more books than money resulting Scar sharing his rations to feed him. He's reckless, but eventually learned how to survive.

Kids in the Firelight sanctuary are inspired and are as curious as Ekko is in the field of science and mathematics. Parents encourage them to hang out with their big brother in hopes they can be educated just like him

His parents did want him to attend piltover academy for a brighter future, but unfortunately the war happened :')

Because of the unfortunate events happening in his life, he starts to fantasize about building a time machine to see his family again. Jayce's hexgem only amplified his ambitions of building his impossible project.

Another one of his ambitions is to make a better place for people to live in...and others in Zaun have mocked him for it (apart for the firelights, they look up to him)

Scar kept telling him to find a partner because he's gonna grow old and lonely if he doesnt. Ekko ofc ignores this and thinks he doesnt need it when he's got his books.

Ekko is also responsible for adding flora in their community. His mom once owned a tiny garden she used to tend to. Ekko plants his mother's favorite flowers to honor both his parents. It was fairly easy to grow them since natural light shines in the community.

Jinx HCs

Silco bought a casual outfit and two dresses from piltover for Jinx, but she only wears one dress and out grew her casual outfit. She saves the other dress for when she leaves the tower (for good).

She altered her dress to fit her tastes; piltover fashion is bonkers she says.

He also brings her self-care products especially for her hair, but never buys her hair accessories...says its too tacky for her (and it reminds him too much of her mother lmao)

Jinx doesn't allow anyone to come near her (especially her hair) upon Silco's orders unless told otherwise. It's usually him or Sevika who brushes her hair.

When Silco is busy, he sends Sevika instead to tend to Jinx (much to each other's dismay). She doesn't like how rough Sevika is brushing her hair (though she's still careful because she gets paid)

The tower usually gets cold in the winter and people sometimes forget to send wood for her fireplace, so wraps up herself in her hair and several blankets so she wouldn't freeze. She's used to it and doesn't mention it to Silco despite him saying she can call to him whenever she needs something

One could guess that not heating up her tower in the winter is probably an experiment conducted by Singed indirectly to see if she can endure bitter cold all while Silco allows it and doesn't tell his daughter. It's one of the cruel ways to test her mutation.

Another way of testing her is having her live in a dark place; the tower is located within the dark forest where no light can reach it. Jinx's eyes became more adjusted in the dark that she can read three books with a small candle light or a neon light stick that barely illuminates the whole room.

Unbeknownst to them, her brilliant mind comes up with several ways to live (or survive) in the tower with what minimal tools she has.

Yes, she has a crossbow but prefers to use her custom-made pistol

Of course, she has nightmares: it often involves the voices in pain she has heard echoing below when there's "shimmer business" going on. Sometimes it about being abandoned by her father and being lied to. She gets the feeling that someone out there is finding her, but they have long abandoned her.

Her pet crow is mischievious as well as its smart; it often brings her materials she needed for her projects Silco asked her to do. It sometimes bring her trinkets she find cute and fascinating

She read about bugs that glow called "firelights" and wishes to see them herself. Shes fascinated that such creatures can glow and float around naturally (unlike the neon lights she sees workers use. She likes them, but she wanted to see what natural light is)

General HCs

When Ekko met Jinx in her tower while hiding, he thought he saw a ghost bc of her long hair and pale skin (and wearing white modest undergarments at that time-- she knocked him out before he can see full view lol)

Jinx was unconsciously transparent about being naive about the world and only knows a portion of it. Ekko couldn't bring himself to leave her in that tower alone now that she's old enough to explore the world.

The Deal: Jinx keeps the stone hidden until Ekko takes her outside and see firelights or whatever she wants. If he fails to do so, she'll tell on him and she gets to use the hexgem to power her weapon and destroy whatever her father tells her to.

After their deal, Ekko took Jinx to a local bar called "The Last Drop" in Zaun. It wasn't the same place he remembered, but he hopes they still serve the same menu there. The problem is Jinx recognized some of the men there who work for Silco lol

Ekko is weirded out by Jinx's hair length, but soon comes to appreciate it. When asked why she cant cut, she'll only answer her father doesn't want to

He thinks her hair color became even brighter when she was outside-- not to mention she's even more radiant than before :3

When Jinx was washing her hands, her sleeves were rolled up exposing syringe marks on her skin. Ekko gently asked Jinx about and she answered "father and this doctor wanted to keep my health in check" despite being fairly healthy. He's sensing something is very wrong

On their way to the Firelight sanctuary, Jinx marveled at the flowers and the light emitting from the sky above them. Ekko enjoys the smile on her face, even letting her pick flowers she likes as long as she doesnt destroy his work 🥲

Both of them got along pretty well seeing that they enjoy reading and tinkering (Scar even teased Ekko for bringing in a lady friend over)

Ekko presented Jinx the option to stay with him if she wants, seeing that she was much more happier here than being trapped in her tower for so long...maybe one day she'll consider breaking out of her own prison.

Been a while since I wrote something here. Had some personal life problems that hinder me from creating something + my works aren't as engaging as before (grateful to those who still appreciate them tho 💖)

Also dedicati g this to @starry-nights12 bc they've been feeding me so much TB content for the past few weeks now TvT 💖✨️

#ekkojinx #arcane #timebomb #jinxarcane #ekko league of legends #league of legends #ekko x jinx #ekko arcane #tangled au #tangled #jinx as rapunzel #ekko as flynn rider #jinx x ekko

[space-blue]

Hi, I love a lot of your meta and analyses. Especially for Arcane. One thing that's bothering me is what exactly was Silco's reputation among the Lanes in act 1? It's odd how Vander seems to say he's worse than enforcers, and Benzo even calls him an animal and immediately tries to charge at Silco after Grayson's death. But we know that Silco only became this ruthless AFTER his attempted murder by Vander. So during the old times when Vander and Benzo knew him, Silco was apparently a "weak man" who wasn't nearly as violent as Vander. So what gives?

Sure, the "animal" line could just be because of the brutal way he killed Grayson and the enforcers, but idk, the way he immediately charges Silco no questions asked seems to indicate something deeper. It's funny too, because Silco murdered only the enforcers that were arresting Vander, and didn't even want to kill Vander until he rejected Silco's plan and refused to join him. So if Benzo just stayed calm and kept his hands to himself Silco would've probably kidnapped them both. Hell, without Benzo's murder hanging over Vander's head, maybe he could've even be persuaded to rejoin Silco for another try at revolution? But the story needs him to refuse, so ofc Benzo had to die.

I'm just wondering why exactly, if Silco was known as the less violent one before Vander tried to kill him, then why do Benzo and Vander in act 1 treat him like he's been a devil the whole time. Did they maybe catch wind of his unpleasant activities while he was underground and building his revolution plans?

Hi Anon! What a great ask! And thank you, you make me blush. It's nice that my horrendous Arcane brain rot actually serves some purpose somehow x'D

This is a very good question and a difficult one—because of the writers. I'm not sure if they really know or care to make sense of Silco and Vander's past. The timeline is shaky and vague. I think they were happy to leave things quite mysterious. Some of us desperately try to unravel it, but the bulk of viewers took it all at face value and concluded that Silco is a horrible man who did horrible things.

This is not me bashing other fans, all theories are valid, but I must admit sometimes I wonder if the Arcane writers managed to convey their point across. Because I've seen quite a few people theorise that Silco did something truly horrible and 'deserved' to be killed by Vander, despite the lack of evidence or accusation, or the show going to great length to harp about Vander's potential for change, of his "monster within" who caves in skulls with his fists.

(Not to mention the casual fans who thought the sun shone out of Vander's ass because they couldn't see past Vi's pov and didn't do dozens of obsessive rewatches like yours truly).

My point is that their relationship is pretty complicated and there are plenty of dissenting theories. And I think a lot of people go one way or the other precisely around those moments you mention. I'm going to give you my theory, but it's very fanon. I'm genuinely a lot less certain about this than some of my other meta. It's just what gels for me considering how I interpret the rest of the show.

I'm going to put this under a cut, because there's a lot!

What exactly was Silco's reputation among the Lanes in act 1?

I don't think Silco was weak. That's him reframing his trauma. Not just weak physically (like obviously he could never fight Vander off fairly), but for having trusted him. Weak for not seeing the betrayal coming, and not coming on top of that conflict. He calls his old self weak because he must believe in his own progress, his own resurrection into a being who can enact his plans at last. 

I think Silco was a beacon of hope and zealotry. I think he was a propaganda machine. Young Silco united a lot of Zaun under the banner of his dream. He probably worked hard, and led the movement. From the way their dialogue goes, the accusation of betrayal, saying "I trusted you", and the manner of Silco's attitude around Vander, I'm of the (generally not that popular) sentiment that Silco was the leader of the early rebellion, and that Vander was his follower. Most likely his right hand man.

In fic I've theorised that Vander, who tells Vi he used to always be so angry and violent, didn't have a channel for said violence until Silco gave him structure and a purpose. Directed that violence at Piltover, at creating (read, carving out) the Lanes.

Which, FYI, are NEVER clarified. We don't know if it's a business model or a territory or both. Writers truly don't care to explain it.

Anyway, Silco speaks of "our dream" and then uses "brother" with a LOT of irony laced in, in reply to Vander's own use of the term. They used to be brothers in arms and Vander believed in that dream. We also know that Vander used to fight for the cause and claims he's "not that man anymore".

He basically was fighting for team Silco—team Zaun—right until the day of the betrayal.

Then we're told by Vander that Silco had his respect, the Lanes' respect, "but that... was never enough for you". We're also told by Sevika that Vander created the Lanes.

This suggests to me that Silco and Vander created the Lanes together. 

I assume that over time Vander started seeing Silco's plans as too greedy, while leading the Lanes seemed ideal. 'Good enough', if you will. Vander is small minded where Silco is aiming for the sun. One wants too little and the other too much. Silco says they 'shared a vision, dreams of freedom, not just for the Lanes but for the whole of the Underground, united as One'. They used to dream of Zaun together... And then Vander realised Silco would tear the Lanes apart if it would serve his purpose (to attack Piltover). 

I think he didn't believe it'd work (and given what we see of Piltover vs. Zaun before shimmer, it might not have), and realised he wanted to rule the Lanes. Vander would now see Silco's dreams as too dangerous.

I know some people in the Zaundads community who theorised that Vander was influenced in turning on Silco by Benzo or others. It's not my prefered theory.

I think Vander wanted the Lanes for himself, and knew that Silco was too zealous to ever stop. We don't know why he got so (intimately) violent. Why they were in the Pilt. We see Vander first very cold, slowly drowning Silco, then very hot and brutal, once he's been hurt. I think he was very different indeed from the genial Vander we know in arc 1. Young Vander is the guy who carved the Lanes with his fists. The guy who built the reputation old Vander still coasts on. A guy known by foreigners! In short, it doesn't really help to look at him through the old Vander lens. He did what he did..

And THEN, he hid the (most likely black and contaminated) wound from Silco's knife. While Silco wears his scar unashamed for what must be a decade or two, Vander has his arm constantly covered. This speaks of shame to me. We know he had regrets too :

Truly a young, impulsive, violent man, who rushed into a bad decision and has regretted it since. I can picture a young Vander missing his best friend, his guiding light, and yet finally becoming the leader he wanted to be. Curtailing Silco's uprising entirely and settling, at least until his own revolt. 

We know there was only one time where the rebellion went ahead, and that was well after Silco left. Vander, to the assembled Lanes people, says "we crossed that bridge once before". It's the era where he still had Silco's respect, but was immediately followed by his pact with Grayson. Which Silco knew of.

Sorry... I'm rambling to try and get all the details in... Almost there.

Finally we come to Vander holding his (shamefully hidden) wound and saying "there's worse things than enforcers out there, we both know that."

And I'm not sure WHAT HE MEANS!! Like, this is not proof he knows Silco is alive. My personal feeling is that Vander believes there's a chance Silco might be alive, but he's not actively taking precautions like that's a possibility. Silco's attack wouldn't have come out of left field and taken them so completely by surprise otherwise.

There are plenty of things worse than enforcers. Including himself!! He could mean competing chembarons. He could mean someone wanting his seat. He could mean anything, it's infuriating. 

Anyway, I think Vander came back from the Pilt with a bad stab wound and a story. I think he told everyone that Silco attacked him and died. That he turned traitor. Or any other bullshit story. But I believe he did what any new illegitimate ruler does, and shat all over Silco's reputation. Or else cried some crocodile tears over him and called him dead. But Silco never stepped back into the open, so Vander making him persona non grata is more likely. 

Whatever the case, Vander had completely taken over the Lanes by the time Silco was in good enough health to show up.

Did they run into each other? Did Vander scare him off again? I'm not sure, but I don't think so. Vander looks way too shocked when he realises who's showing up at the murder party. This isn't the expression of someone who is used to thwarting schemes. This isn't the Batman's face when the Joker appears with mischief around a street corner.

Meanwhile, why would Benzo react so negatively to Silco? The well respected man who was betrayed (a fact Vander owns up to and APOLOGISES for), who was half drowned and mutilated by Vander's hand... Yet Benzo immediately calls him an animal (which, you're right, could be in reaction to stepping into a mass killing—which, fair), and tells him to "crawl back into whatever hole he came out of."

I feel like this is the reaction of someone who thinks "wow, it's the cunt who harmed my bestie 20 years ago and (insert Vander's lies about him). Who knew he was still alive?"

Meanwhile, Vander looks like it's judgement day. I think he has excellent reasons to be afraid. He stole the Lanes, destroyed Silco's dreams, ruined his rep, drove him out of the Underground... and somehow Silco stayed under the radar all this time? And now he's got killer monsters? Of course he'd be scared. Vander knows how intense Silco used to be, and knows how guilty he himself is. I think he believes all bets are off. Precisely because Silco never had a reputation as a weak man. 

I mean, consider! If Vander was mega violent under Silco's guidance... If they built the Lanes together... If Silco was the leader who helped Vander redirect his rage... Then Silco clearly didn't mind being extremely violent. He didn't mind unleashing "the Hound" on the people who stood in the way of Zaun. 

((I think Silco's "weak" narrative is a self soothing framing device. That he's recontextualising himself, making a philosophy of life. After all, he tries to use these same terms to speak to Jinx about her own trauma, while failing to grasp that while he was at his weakest, Powder was at her strongest. His personal motto of letting the weak die doesn't work for Jinx.))

It's very revealing that Vander says "Benzo stay back!" and Silco says "you never did know when to walk away." Like if he'd stayed back and then walked away, he'd have been fine. I fully agree that this tells us that Vander thinks Silco is only after him. That he wouldn't kill Benzo needlessly. Needless deaths were probably never Silco's style, as someone wanting to 'unite' the Underground. And after all, he's not even here to kill Vander, but to recruit him.

So, yeah... In conclusion (at last lol) 

Silco was never weak, simply too big a dreamer, someone who wouldn't surrender his lofty ideals for the reality of being one of the most powerful men in the Undercity. Ultimately he got in young Vander's way. Vander impulsively sacrificed Silco for his own desire to rule the Lanes. Then he turned around, shameful and regretful, and lied to everyone about it as he usurped Silco's place and became the Lanes' sole leader. 

(I personally theorised in several fics that the last Drop was actually Silco's, and that Vander took over it after the betrayal, partially explaining why Silco never leaves the place after his own takeover. Complicated feelings + it was his and fuck Vander lol)

I don't believe Benzo or Vander have any clue about Silco's plans, and simply react based on what they know and imagine (Benzo based on whatever Vander told him, and Vander based on how fucked he has to be and how insanely dedicated Silco must still be). I believe Vander has a lot of double agents in his midst (Sevika, Syd), and people who've been keeping tabs on him for years. 

Counter-argument : Marcus says he spoke to one of Vander's "old friends" and that he "wasn't always so peaceful". You could think this may have tipped Vander off... But how many people did he leave behind or crush when creating the Lanes? How many people hate him for leading the failed uprising? I think it's still plausible that Vander doesn't suspect Silco's involvement. 

Vander just lacks cunning. Another final argument for him being totally clueless is that he had a direct line to Grayson, and a quick, 'Hey, okay I'll tell you who stole your stuff' pointing fingers towards Silco would have entirely solved the situation for him.

Yet he never is shown to consider it. 

PHEW. I think that covers it?? I think I covered every point? At least that's how I interpret this situation, even though it relies heavily on my own fanon readings of the timeline and a lot of other details. 

If anyone disagrees with this, or wants to double down, as always go crazy. I love me a meta pile on. 

#arcane #arcane netflix #arcane meta #meta #silco #vander #vanco #zaundads #benzo #arcane silco #arcane vander #arcane benzo #arcane marcus #grayson #jinx #anon ask #meta ask #thanks for the ask anon

[the-dumpster-fire-of-life]

(Hey! This was a request on my wattpad so here ya go!)

EKKO, VI, CAITLYN & VIKTORS S/O HAVING AMNESIA

EKKO

he doesn't know how it happened or why

He just gets angry though

Not at you, at himself and the universe

How could this happen to you?

And why you out of everyone?

He loved you and I think he somehow blames himself

He'll try to hell and back to get your memories back

He's heartbroken when you woke up and asked the dreaded question

"Who are you?"

He felt like his entire heart cracked and his stomach just dropped

It was you but not you at the same time

You didn't remember him or anything

He tries to help you or be around you without being sad but its hard

He'll help you around and help you with things you struggle with

Eventually when you get better at things he'll be happy

Still sad though

One way he tried to help you regain your memories would be showing you places and things

He would tell you stories from when you guys were kids, how you met

How you got together, about your family

Anything really, just hoping you would remember

Hell, he told you about Powder, your childhood best friend he never spoke of

Benzo, Vander, Vi, Mylo, Claggor, anyone he tries to help you remember them

It hurt though more than anything when he showed you a picture of y'all on your first date

He told the whole story, getting so in detail and deep into it

But when he looked up, you looked sad, confused and apolgised because...you just couldn't recall anything

He felt his heart crack even more, if possible

He starts losing some hope but refuses to fully give up

And one day he just finds you and you look so happy

He was confused until you told him you remembered everything

It was after you found a gift he had given you when you guys were kids

It was accompanied by a photo of you two as kids

It felt like everything snapped into place

He swore he felt like he was about to pass out

He hugged you so tight you felt like you were about to pass out

Shed some tears shamelessly

He was so happy he had you back

Please never scare him like that again

VI

She was extremely confused

When you woke up and asked her 

"Who are you?"

She thought it was a joke

Kept telling you

"I'm Vi, you're girlfriend?"

She felt like her world crashed down

She only had you left, you couldn't just lose your memory just like that

When she found out for sure you had amnesia, she had no clue what to do

One thing she wanted to do was comfort you

But you didn't know who she was

And that crushed her, you had been stuck by the hip since you were young

Everything felt wrong without having you by her side

She helps you with things, doesn't want you to get worse

She gets to know you as you are now

It's painful more than comforting

You don't remember her, how you met, your friends or anything

She feels like something is always missing

She subconsciously does things that remind her of you or sometimes forgets you have amnesia

And when she remembers it feels like she heard that dreaded question over and over in her head

And one day she was just sitting around and you came running over

You then hugged her, she of course hugged you back but she was confused

Until you told her you were you again

She froze for a second before practically picking you off your feet entirely

She felt like crying out of relief

She had you back

And you in whole

She felt whole again, please, never ever do that again

CAITLYN

She's shocked

She's scared at the same time

Could you get worse? Could something else happen to you?

"Who are you?"

Her smile slowly faded from her face as she held your hand after you had woken up

She had waited hours or even days or weeks for you to wake up

She thought she would feel over the moon but you looked at her confused

Like you had never met her before

And it rocked her to her core

As the doctor explained you had amnesia she had to leave the room for a bit

Not gonna lie, she cried

It felt like you had died and someone had replaced you

She wanted to hug you but was afraid you would be uncomfortable

When she helped you, she reminded you of things you used to do or things you guys loved doing together

She then would look at your face as you just looked confused

It felt like her world went quiet all over again

You didn't remember things you always used to do

Or places you went or dates

It felt like someone was in your body or your memory haunted her

It overwhelmed her

And it wasn't on purpose, but she ended up avoiding you entirely

Felt guilty when she realized it but it was to painful

One day you were somewhere you guys loved

Maybe the park, a cafe you frequented or a library

It felt like everything snapped in and the memories flooded in

You went running to her and when you found her you cried

She thought you were hurt and forgot about the amnesia for a minute

You kept blurting out random things but she just got that you remembered

And she remembered the amnesia, but you remembered now

She felt so relieved

She almost cried right there and then

She did cry

She was probably on the job

But who cares?

She hugged you back so tight

She made a promise to herself never to lose you again

And to protect you so that it never happened again

VIKTOR

He didn't want to believe it

He had health issues himself

But for you to have this happen to you?

No

You didn't deserve that

Wanted to crawl into a hole right there and then when you woke up

"Who are you?"

Your question rang in his ear every second of every day after it happened

He avoided you, he didn't even know it though 

he spent all his time in the lab once again

You never really saw him after that day when the doctor told you both you had amnesia

He grew more determined over time to maybe find something to help you remember

He wanted you back

It was like you were a shell of yourself

You weren't you, the person he loved and the one that helped him through everything

He was so fucking desperate to get you back

He even resorted to finding Singed once again

Eventually he was in the lab one day and you came barreling in the door

He jumped as you hugged him

You blurted out you remembered

He froze and stood still, even when he began to cry

You even checked on him to see if he was okay

He didn't answer, he just hugged you back and cried silently into your shoulder

He had you back

You weren't gone forever

He didn't lose you

#arcane #arcane ekko #ekko arcane #arcane violet #vi arcane #arcane caitlyn #arcane x reader #vi x reader #caitlyn x reader #ekko x reader #arcane viktor #viktor x reader #vi x y/n #viktor x y/n #ekko x y/n #caitlyn x you