its so sad when a post starts in a way that seems like its not going to be abt penetrative sex for once then sharply adds a line at the end with the implication the reader has a vagina that they are about to/want to penetratively bottom with 😮💨
tags: sfw, drama-ish, reader is new to zaun, still a newish and secret relationship, you don’t see silco but he mad, sevika and jinx are here, idk what else im terrible at tags
a/n: ao3 link. been working on this for too long so breaking it to in to chapters. idk about the title but whatever. still don't know what i'm doing and i'm still doin' it. don't know where i'm going with it either. let's just pretend this is set not long after this one. also, still struggling with what to do about jinx so mostly just ignoring that for now till it comes to me.
////////// ch. 1 //////////
This night, enveloped in the tranquility of solitude, you stood on the balcony of your flat, gazing out at the pulsating life of Zaun. The city unfolded below like a living organism, its veins aglow with neon lights that traced the jagged contours of buildings and snaking pipelines. The streets thrummed with a chaotic symphony of sounds: the clanking of machinery, the distant shouts of vendors, and the indefinable hum of a city that never truly slept. Here, beauty and decay coexisted in an uneasy dance; for every dark alley shrouded in mystery, there was a vibrant market alive with color and life.
However, Silco's absence left a palpable void. The city's energy felt oddly hollow as he was away on what he'd ambiguously termed a 'necessary endeavor' for the future of Zaun. His parting words, ‘…I’ll think of you, my Dove…,’ echoed in your thoughts, a tender promise from the long night you spent together before his departure. His two-toned eyes, usually so piercing and decisive, had held a fleeting softness as you were tangled together under the sheets, arms and legs laced over each other in a moment of precious intimacy.
Despite the grime and danger lurking in the shadows, Zaun’s raw energy coursed with an undeniable allure, a canvas of infinite possibilities that beckoned you to delve deeper into its secrets. The Last Drop, your local haunt where the city’s hum could envelop you, called out — a poor, yet necessary, substitute for the warmth now missing.
In the mellow light of your room, you perused your wardrobe, seeking the perfect balance of practicality and understated style suitable for a night out. Your fingers brushed over the fabrics, finally settling on attire that blended seamlessly with the Lanes shadowy contours. Slipping into a dark outfit with a form-fitting jacket, you felt its familiar weight settle comfortably on your shoulders, the material tough yet flexible, ready for whatever the evening might hold.
Next, you chose sturdy boots, their soles worn from countless wanderings, but reliable and silent as a whisper. Each piece you donned was a subtle testament to your life here, chosen not just for aesthetics but for survival and discretion.
Standing before the mirror, you adjusted the collar of your jacket, the reflection staring back at you a blend of the person you once were, and the one the Undercity was shaping you to become. Your reflection gave a small yet confident smile, a silent acknowledgement of the transformation. With a final nod to your mirrored counterpart, you shouldered a small bag and turned away, ready to step out into the unpredictable streets that now called to you with an almost magnetic pull.
As you made your way through the dimly lit pathways towards the Drop, the acrid smell of chem-tech and refuse wafted on the breeze, a constant reminder of the city's ever-churning underbelly. The itch in your lungs had subsided substantially since you first stepped on to these streets – however your tolerance for the air was still developing and you had to stifle the urge to cough. To keep it at bay, you focus on your boots as they tapped a steady rhythm on the cobblestones, each step echoing softly in the narrow alleyways that snaked towards your destination.
The club loomed ahead, its structure an eclectic mix of old brick and patched-up metalwork, bathed in the harsh light of luminous, electric green hues. As you approached, something unexpected caught your gaze — a light on in Silco’s office window, cutting through the darkness like a beacon. 'He wasn’t supposed to be back yet,' you consider, an impulsive intrigue stirring within. As you beheld the sight, your steps hastened, an invisible force pulling you forward. The large neon eye atop the Last Drop regarded you with an almost sentient vigilance, akin to a predator stirring to awareness, its gaze urging you further inside.
Pushing open the heavy door, you stepped into the fluorescent radiance of the bar. The scene unfolded with the usual mix of sounds and sensations: the music from the juke box rumbled with a constant beat, intertwining with the clink of glasses and the mixing of liquid vices. Yet… As you moved further inside, a sense of unease crept in. You peered around the darkened lair, an intangible tension that seemed thicker than usual permeating the air. The lights cast long, dancing shadows that twisted and turned with the rhythm of the music, while the patrons, a collection of Zaun's most colorful and hardened characters, seemed unusually on edge. Their typical revelries replaced by furtive glances and hushed whispers, their laughter a little too sharp, a little too forced.
Your thoughts raced — something was off, and you could tell. Approaching the stairway at the back of the club, this feeling intensified, a knot forming in the pit of your stomach. Suddenly, a deafening crash from above disrupted the chaotic harmony, followed by a roar of rage so fierce it seemed to shake the very foundations.
“OUT!” The command was sharp and furious, the voice unmistakably his.
Your heartbeat spiked, thumping erratically against your ribs as the abrupt sound of a door being flung open echoed down the stairwell. Instinctively, you pressed yourself against the wall, your breath shallow, trying to meld with the shadows. From this hidden vantage point, your eyes watched the scene unfold as several heavy sets of steps made their way down, steps creaking along the way.
A group of hardened thugs you recognized as Silco's less savory associates staggered out of the stairwell. Their steps were uneven, their bodies silhouetted against the light spilling from the bar. Most looked bruised, beaten, and bloodied… Recently bloodied. The smell of sweat, defeat, and something metallic filled the air, a reflection of recent violence. They grumbled and cursed under their breath, too preoccupied with their wounds to notice you. You remained motionless, barely daring to breathe as the last of them disappeared from view, their footsteps eventually fading into the background noise of the club.
BOOM!
Another crash resounds from the stairwell, sounding like something large thrown against a wall with formidable force. This noise stirs a flicker of apprehension within you, second-guessing your impulsive visit. However, your concern keeps you from leaving. You've seen hints of Silco’s temper, but this feels different — more raw and wild, hinting at a ferocity rarely seen. Following this, a muffled yet forceful yell shakes the walls, further intensifying the charged atmosphere.
The door above opened and closed again, heralding the descent of two distinctly different sets of footsteps. First came light, almost erratic steps, each one a burst of chaotic energy, as if someone was skipping down the stairs. A momentary pause gripped you by the throat as you realized who it might be… Jinx. A proper introduction had not yet been made, something Silco had consistently avoided despite his unwavering trust in her. ‘…When the time is right…’, he would mutter when you asked, then instruct you to steer clear of her in the same breath. In stark contrast, the sound of Sevika’s approach was unmistakable, her footsteps measured and authoritative, echoing with the weight of her controlled, deliberate presence.
You moved to retreat to the safety of the bar, but it was too late. The blue-haired whirlwind didn’t just alight; she crashed onto the landing, her gaze darting around before locking onto you with an intense, unsettling focus. Her iconic braids, more like live wires, swung wildly as she moved. Her expression flickered, a shadow of frustration lurking in her eyes. “Well, well, well,” she trilled, voice lilting in a sing-song manner before dropping to a sinister whisper, “What’s this? A little spy?”
A cold knot of apprehension tightened in your stomach, yet you fought to keep your breathing steady and calm. Before you could muster a response, Sevika stepped down onto the landing. She was a formidable figure, tall and broad-shouldered, her muscular frame honed through countless battles also bore fresh signs of conflict. Minor bruises shadowed her knuckles, and a few scuffs marred her attire, suggesting she'd also recently been in a skirmish. Her eyes, a piercing shade of gray, darted between Jinx and you as she realized what situation was unfolding. “They’re here for me,” she stated firmly, her deep voice resonating with authority and a sharp edge that left little room for interpretation.
“Right…” you finally mutter as you quickly find your words from the spot you now feel frozen in, unable to run and certainly unable to fight. “… just got the message you sent and came straight here.” The fabrication feels flat, but you hold your tone steady as your eyes flick between the two.
Jinx cocked her head, her gaze still locked on you, curiosity piqued. “A new lackey for Sevika? Did she finally get tired of the old ones?” she remarked, her tone shifting to playfully inquisitive as her hands toyed absentmindedly with a round metallic object that cleaned in her hands, the outer casing haphazardly painted with erratic, jagged lines, and mismatched colors.
Maintaining her stoic demeanor, Sevika tersely corrected, "No. I… hired a new runner," her voice rumbling with an unmistakable note of authority that brooked no indication of the lie nor desire to provide any further details.
Jinx’s lips curled into a sly, knowing smile, her attention returning to her father’s Second-in-Command. “Oooh, keeping secrets, Sevika? No need to hide your little romances from me,” she taunted, the challenge in her words clear. “Besides,” her voice dropped to a hush, her eyes narrowing back on you as she suddenly stepped closer, threatening to invade your personal space, “I need to keep my eyes on the newbies. Can’t have them stealing my explosives… or worse, my spotlight.”
Her words tied to her movements ping your internal threat radar and you tense up, slowly raising your hands, palms forward, as if to show her they are very empty. “I’m not here to steal anything – just to uh… get paid, alright?” The words rattle out of your mouth as if trying to keep up with the ruse, and you feign indifference as best as you can.
Sevika’s posture remains unyielding, a statue of composure amidst the mayhem the Loose Cannon tries to stir. “Jinx,” she begins, her voice steady yet with an annoyed bite, “We don’t have time for games. Not after tonight.” She takes a deliberate step forward, as if ready to jump between the two of you – and leading you to feel the smallest hint of relief. “And as for the ‘newbie’,” her gaze briefly flicks to you, an unreadable expression in her eyes, “they ought to know better than to cross me or you.”
With this – you shake your head eagerly, both playing along and agreeing strongly.
Jinx’s eyes widen for a moment, a flicker of irritation or perhaps amusement crossing her features. She leans back, regarding Sevika with a tilted head and a mockingly contemplative expression. “Oooh, so serious,” she sing-songs, her voice dripping with sarcasm. Then, with an exaggerated roll of her eyes, she steps back, her movements theatrical. “Fine, fine, keep your secrets and your boring runner. I’ve got better things to do than babysit anyway.”
With a sudden burst of laughter, Jinx turns on her heel, her braids whipping through the air. As she retreats, she continues to fiddle with the odd-looking device in her hands, turning the various screws. “Don’t have too much fun without me!” Jinx calls over her shoulder without looking back.
… Both you and Sevika watch Jinx depart for a spare few moments before another crash resounds from above, drawing an exhausted sigh from Sevika as she turned to you. “What the hell are you doing here?” she hisses, her voice a controlled whisper. This time, it’s her figure that looms over you, a chemtech-enhanced finger jabbing accusingly in your direction.
Swallowing hard, you muster your courage, your mind spinning with the rush of events – particularly the regret over the spot you had chosen for your hiding place… “I—I saw the light on. I didn't think you'd be back until tomorrow, so I thought I might surpris--” you stammer, your concern pushing past the fear of Sevika's intensity.
“Surprise him?” Sevika interrupts, her eyes rolling with a mix of frustration and disbelief. “He’s already dealing with enough surprises!” Her words are heavy with implications, suggesting a situation far worse than you realize.
… Or… that you were just an additional complication…
Another thunderous crash from above leads you to flinch involuntarily before your concern grows. The sound is so close, so violent, it's as if the turmoil is just a few inches away. You should be there, your thoughts echo accusingly, regardless of how out of place you feel. “But what happened?” you press, unable to contain your concern. “Can I help?”
Sevika’s gaze on you is piercing, assessing. “He’s dealing with a situation. Something went... sideways,” she admits reluctantly, her tone suggesting it's all she's willing to reveal. “And no, you can’t help. This is for us to handle, not you.”
The realization that you're powerless to assist, that you're being kept in the dark, ignites a mix of frustration and helplessness within you. Every fiber of your being urges you to rush to him, to provide a calm to his wrath. Yet, the recognition that you won’t win this battle settles heavily over you. "… Understood," you concede, taking a brief pause to gather your thoughts before sidestepping past Sevika.
The sound of shattering glass from above punctuated the tense silence, jarring you from your thoughts. You couldn’t help but look upwards, your expression softening with worry, his agitation palpable even from this distance. Sevika caught the change in your demeanor and her rigid posture eased, if only slightly.
“Listen,” she began, her tone less harsh. “You need to trust me – Silco wouldn’t want you to see him like this.” The features of her face relaxed slightly, revealing the weariness from the past few day’s events. Slowly unclenching her fists, she fished out a small bag of coins and tossed it to you. “Go on, get a drink or something. Just... let me handle this and come back later.”
With the weight of the coins in your hand, a symbol of your forced departure, you held them for a moment longer than necessary, feeling their cold, hard edges press into your palm through the thin fabric. Reluctantly, and with a deep, measured breath, you tucked the bag away, each movement deliberate, almost resistant. Sevika’s words, though commanding, carried an underlying current of sincerity that was hard to dismiss. Yet, the feeling of being pushed to the sidelines, of having to wait when all you wanted was to help, left a bitter taste in your mouth that no amount of swallowing could wash away.
“… Fine,” is all you could muster in response after several long, heavy beats, your voice barely above a whisper. Your eyes lingered on the stairwell, tracing the path you wished you could take. Then, with a resigned sigh, you pivoted towards the door on your heel, each step a small battle between desire and defeat.
The funny thing is that, you can break your fucking neck and back trying to support someone with everything you have in you and they still won’t have the decency to give you that same courtesy back. 🙃🙃
