#past vanco
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here's my piece for the zaundads zine! make sure to check out the whole thing [HERE]!
#silco#vander#vanco#zaundads#arcane#silco arcane#vander arcane#arcane fanart#silco/vander#sirren draws#fanart#zaundads zine#been waiting to post this since september#worked my ass off to get everything right#lifeguard!vander#this right here is why i didn't post much over the past few months lmao
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I Found You
Summary: After an argument left Silco apart from his partner, he is left to reflect on his mistake. A song at Jinx's wedding causes him to make a realization about his relationship and pushes him to fix things before it's too late.
Pairing: Silco/GN!Reader
A/N: This is belated birthday gift for my friend @deny-the-issue 💜 love you lots Jasper!
Tags/Warnings: Fighting/Making Up, Wedding Planning/Weddings, Modern AU, Fluff, Slight Angst, Song Fic, Background Timebomb, Past Vanco mention
Song: Until I Found You by Stephen Sanchez (edited to make it GN)
AO3 Link
Silco stared out the window of his office, letting the lights of the city outside fade in and out of focus as he contemplated what the next day held for him. Tonight had been a disaster, not that he had expected anything different from the situation. The only thing that seemed to have gone well was that Jinx had enjoyed the evening, which he supposed was the most important thing. He didn’t have a lot of experience with weddings, but he thought that they were generally a happy event, even with family drama. Namely drama between a parent of the bride and his partner.
The empty seat beside him at the table tonight spoke loud and clear. You were still upset with him and hadn’t even bothered to put up a happy front and deal with him for an evening, not even for Jinx. Then again, you were still present, just seated somewhere else; so he supposed you had chosen to support Jinx at her rehearsal dinner after all. He had only gotten a glimpse of you as you pushed past him on your way out of the hall, never getting the chance to even speak with you.
“Dad?” a quiet voice asked from behind him, interrupting his inner turmoil.
Silco turned his chair around from the window to face his darkened office. Light from the hallway spilled in through the open door, where Jinx was standing. Even in the dark, he could see the sparkles on her blue dress winking at him. Jinx had a concerned expression covering her features, and at the confirmation that he was in his office, she stepped in and closed the door behind her.
“Are you okay? You left early.”
Silco sighed and stood from his office chair, circling around the desk to meet his daughter in the middle of the room.
“I’m fine, Pumpkin,” he said, reaching out with his thumb to smooth the worry lines between her eyebrows. “Just tired.”
The comforting motion was something you always did for him when he was stressed. It seemed he had picked up one of your habits during your relationship. He wondered if he would ever feel your soothing touch again. Jinx wrapped her arms around his midsection in a tight embrace, grounding him.
“I’m sorry,” she said softly.
Silco pulled back from her embrace to look down at her in confusion.
“Whatever for? If anything, I should be apologizing to you. This is your weekend, you don’t need to worry about what’s going on with me.”
“I know the fight was my fault,” Jinx said, averting her gaze. “If I hadn’t gotten so upset about what happened, they wouldn’t have spoken up and you guys wouldn’t have fought.”
Silco pulled Jinx back into his embrace and placed a soft kiss on the top of her head, swaying her back and forth gently to soothe her. She had been doing so well lately, apart from the outburst of a few days ago. He would do anything in his power to help her maintain the blissful state of mind she had been enjoying.
“Don’t even think about it like that, Jinx. What happened wasn’t anyone’s fault but my own. I shouldn’t have snapped at them like I did. I caused the fight, not you.”
“Are you sure?”
“One hundred percent.”
Jinx pulled away from the embrace and stared up at him. Her bright blue eyes narrowed as she pointed one of her manicured fingers at his face.
“You better be in a good mood tomorrow. If you spoil things, you know Vi won’t be happy.”
Silco rolled his good eye at her threat. He couldn’t think of a time her older sister was happy with him, even when she was a child. He didn’t blame her, as she had been raised exclusively by Vander, along with her and Jinx’s brothers. He doubted there had ever been a good thing said about him in that household.
At least he had Jinx.
“I promise I’ll be on my best behavior tomorrow,” he said, placing a kiss on his daughter’s forehead. “I won’t let anything ruin your special day. Not even me.”
Jinx lowered her accusatory finger and beamed up at him. She hugged him one final time before turning and exiting his office, leaving him alone with his thoughts once again.
Jinx paced wildly back and forth across their living room, her long blue hair streaming behind her. Silco sat patiently in his arm chair, waiting for her to tell her what had upset her so badly. So far, all he had gleaned from her muttering was “who does she think she is” and “stupid Piltie”, which gave him absolutely no context.
Jinx finally stopped in front of him and threw her hands up in the air for a moment before angrily throwing them back down to her sides.
“What am I supposed to do?!” she cried.
Silco leaned forward in his chair, taking her hands in his.
“About what, Pumpkin?”
Jinx started ranting about how one of her bridesmaids, a girl she knew from art school, had mono and wouldn’t be able to be at the wedding. In an attempt to smooth over the situation, apparently Vander had suggested that Jinx have Caitlyn, Violet’s girlfriend, step in to fill the empty spot at her side.
Silco cringed as Jinx told him about Vander’s suggestion, which Violet had supported. Jinx had walked in on the girl trying on the dress meant for the missing bridesmaid to see if it would fit or need some last minute alterations. He knew his daughter was not fond of her sister’s girlfriend, and the thought of her inserting herself into her special day must have triggered this reaction.
“Would you rather have someone else step in?” he asked her.
He mentioned your name, saying that you could wear the outfit already chosen for you. Jinx replied that you would already be stepping in for a different part of the wedding at the reception and would likely feel uncomfortable being involved in the ceremony as well.
“You can always ask them,” he suggested.
“Ask who what?” came a voice from the door.
Silco and Jinx both looked up at the sound of the voice to see you entering the room. Jinx released her grip on his hands and threw herself in your direction, nearly knocking you over. Silco sighed as he heard her start to ramble on once again about the bridesmaid situation.
“Would it be easier to only have one?” you asked.
“But both Claggor and Mylo will be standing up for Ekko, so one of them will be without a partner!” Jinx shouted, releasing her grip on you to return to pacing.
Silco watched as you furrowed your brow in concern at his daughter. You looked over at him and caught his eye, which he responded to with a shrug. His involvement in this wedding had been mostly financial, as he made more money than Vander and Benzo combined. He had agreed to walk Jinx down the aisle, as was his duty as a father. Since he shared that role with Vander, the dance went to the other man. He hadn’t planned on participating much more than what he needed to.
After a few more minutes of aggravated pacing, Jinx stopped in front of his chair again. She looked at him with pleading eyes, tears forming at the corners. He knew what that look meant. She wanted him to fix her problems for her.
“Jinx, this is something you need to deal with,” he said. “This wedding is your responsibility. I can’t fix it for you.”
The only response he got was a pout, followed by loud stomping as she left the room. The sound of a slamming door upstairs made him flinch. Silco sighed heavily and rubbed his good eye with his hand. Soft footsteps approached him and before long, he felt your fingers smoothing the lines of his furrowed brow. He glanced up to meet your gaze, seeking the warmth of your affection. He was surprised to find a look of disappointment on your face.
“What?”
“Nothing,” you murmured before looking away.
“Out with it.”
“You’re her father, Silco. Your advice on what to do about a stressful situation means the world to her.”
Silco huffed in response. It didn’t surprise him that you were in Jinx’s corner. You always worked hard to smooth things over whenever he had an argument with his daughter. Usually in her favor rather than his own. It was something he loved about you, even if you weren’t on his side most of the time.
“She doesn’t want my advice. She wants me to fix it for her so she doesn’t have to do anything herself. She’s getting married, so she’ll have to learn how to do things without my help.”
“You don’t stop being a parent just because your kid gets married, Silco.”
Silco scowled and shook his head. He had already had enough stress revolving around this blasted wedding, and he was ready for it to be done. It was bad enough having to deal with Vander’s constant involvement, the last thing he needed was an argument with you.
“I know I don’t know much about raising children…” you started.
“That’s right. You don’t.”
Silco heard the words leave his lips before he could stop them. They had also come out much harsher than intended. He felt you flinch away at his tone.
“I only meant…” you started again quietly.
Silco waved a hand at you impatiently.
“Just go up and talk to her, since you seem to know what’s best,” he snapped.
The expression that covered your face was a mixture of surprise and hurt. Silco instantly regretted his words and wished he could take them back. He inwardly cursed his temper and stressed mind.
As he thought over the following argument between the two of you, Silco kept picturing your hurt expression. You had eventually left, heading back to your own place, leaving him to deal with Jinx on his own.
He should have called you the following morning to apologize, but he hadn’t. His foul mood had followed him into the next day, his pride keeping him from taking the steps needed to fix things. How was he supposed to fix Jinx’s problems when he couldn’t even solve his own?
The situation that had caused the problem in the first place had been dealt with. Jinx had agreed to let Caitlyn step in as her bridesmaid after a lengthy conversation with Violet over the phone. She hadn’t needed his help in the end, solving the problem on her own as he had advised.
Silco wasn’t sure if that counted as a win or not.
A few days had passed before he had heard from you again, and then it was only in the form of a voicemail. You had said that you wanted some time apart from him. When he had tried to call you back, you hadn’t answered.
He had hoped to talk to you this evening, but that had not worked out. He had been distracted and hadn’t been able to speak with you. When he asked her about it, Jinx had informed him that you were still coming to the wedding, but had asked to be seated apart from him. Something Vander had noticed, leading to their argument in the hall, which had been his distraction. By the time he had returned from his scolding, you had disappeared without a word.
He was providing quite the scandal. Father of the bride with not only one ex-partner present at the wedding, but two. At least that’s where it looked like things were heading.
Silco sat alone in the corner of the reception hall sipping on his drink, trying to tune out the loud obnoxious song playing over the speakers. One would think that the owner of a nightclub would be used to loud music, but for some reason, this time it was getting on his nerves.
He could see Jinx and Ekko jumping up and down along with their guests in the middle of the dance floor, Jinx’s long blue hair flopping carelessly around her as she danced. She looked like she was having the time of her life, which lessened his sour mood the tiniest amount. Her happiness was all that mattered today. That was enough to get him through the evening.
When the loud music came to a halt, Silco muttered a quiet thank you to whatever deity had heard his prayers for it to end its onslaught of his ears. The DJ announced that it was time for the happy couple to have their dance to their chosen song. Silco threw back the rest of his drink, ready to go get another from the bar. He could see his daughter’s dance just as well from there.
As he waited for his fresh drink, the song Jinx had chosen began to play. A spotlight was pointed at the couple as they swayed back and forth in time with the music. Silco hadn’t known what song she had ended up choosing, but based on the rhythm of the music, he felt she had made a good choice. He stood leaning against the bar listening closely as the lyrics began, tapping his foot along with the beat. The first few lines passed over him but when it reached the part he guessed was the beginning of the chorus, he felt his heart lurch in his chest.
“I would never fall in love again until I found you.
I said, ‘I would never fall unless it’s you I fall into.’
I was lost within the darkness, but then I found you.
I found you.”
Silco had never been one for sentimental feelings, especially in songs, but something about the lyrics hit him like a truck. He had never heard something so accurately describe how he felt about someone. How he felt about you. After things had ended so badly between himself and Vander, he hadn’t thought love would be possible for him again. That had all changed when he met you. Now he had screwed that up as well, leaving him in the ‘darkness’ once again.
As the song continued to play, his gaze drifted over the crowd until it settled on a form at the edge of the dance floor. You were standing there, looking spectacular in the outfit Jinx had designed for you. Silco watched as you swayed in place to the rhythm of the song, a small smile on your lips as you watched the happy couple in the center.
The song came to an end with a final reprise of the chorus that had touched his heart so deeply, the music slowly fading away. The gathered crowd clapped as Jinx and Ekko left the dance floor hand in hand. Silco could still see you through the dispersing crowd, as you had remained in your spot to talk to someone near you. This was likely the best chance he would have to try and get your attention so he could talk to you.
Abandoning his half finished drink, Silco pushed through the throng of people, keeping you in his sights at all times. He eventually reached your side and came to a stop next to the person you were speaking with. He cleared his throat to grab your attention, which caused you to switch your focus from your conversation to him.
“Excuse the interruption,” he said, trying to maintain a polite facade. “But could I steal you for a moment?”
You gave the other person a smile before nodding to him. He held out his hand for you, and you surprised him by placing your hand in his. He gently pulled you to a door that led outside the reception hall so you could talk privately. The cool breeze of the night air blew through the loose parts of both your outfits, but Silco felt it was refreshing after the stuffy heat of the hall. Once the door closed behind the pair of you, Silco felt you pull your hand from his. The loss stung, but he made sure to not show it in any way.
“The event has been lovely,” you said, taking a few steps away from him. “Jinx looks really happy.”
“Indeed she does. I’m glad things worked out in the end and have gone smoothly with no further problems.”
Silco hadn’t brought you out for small talk, but he wasn’t sure where to begin. He figured an apology was a good starting point. He said your name softly to refocus your attention, which made you turn towards him.
“I wanted to apologize for my behavior. I should not have said the things I did to you, and I should have called you as soon as possible to set things right.”
Silco looked in your eyes as he spoke, so he could see your expression soften as he was speaking, which he hoped was a sign that you would be able to forgive him.
“I know you said you wanted some space, which I will respect,” he continued. “But I wanted to at least try to make some kind of amends. I also wanted to make sure that you knew that I love you.”
Your eyes widened at his words, likely in surprise. Silco had expected that reaction, as it was the first time he had said those words to you, at least directly.
“I don’t say this to manipulate you in any way or to pressure you into forgiving me. It just seemed like something you should know.”
His heart pounding in his chest, Silco turned away from you and started back towards the door. A soft call of his name stopped him in his tracks, but he didn’t turn. He heard the clicking of your shoes on the pavement as you closed the distance between the two of you, followed by the gentle touch of your hand at his elbow.
“You tell me you love me for the first time and then you walk away?” you asked as you came around to stand in front of him. “Not even giving me the chance to say it back?”
Silco inhaled sharply at your second question. Did you intend to return his sentiment?
“You didn’t need to pressure me into forgiving you, Silco. I already have. Do you know why?”
Silco shook his head and avoided your intense gaze. Out of the corner of his field of vision, he saw you raising your hand in the direction of his forehead, no doubt to smooth the wrinkle between his brows. He made no effort to stop you, leaning into your gentle touch when your fingertips touched his skin. After removing your thumb from his face, you leaned in to place your forehead against his.
“Because I love you too, Silco.”
It was said so quietly that he almost didn’t believe he had actually heard it. Regardless, the words sent a beam of light straight to his heart, chasing away the impending darkness that he had feared would consume him once again. A snippet of the song that had pushed him in this direction flowed through his mind, leading him to a solid conclusion.
“I asked to love you once again.
You fell, I caught you.
I’ll never let you go again like I did.”
A/N: Give this a like, comment, and reblog and let me know what you think!
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My entry into @aromansoul’s Boxer!Silco AU
TW: Blood, Injury, Graphic description of violence, angst, whump
My entry, or an attempt on thereof, is set about a week or two after Arcane episode 3, so it features Act 1 Silco, Powder, and Sevika, as well as mentions of Vander and vague hints on Vanco.
I also focused on bare knuckle fighting instead of straight up boxing.
PART ONE HERE
This is part 2/5
'Til I’m laughing alone - ROUND 1
They tap their wrapped fists together in the center, their eyes meeting, studiously observing each other. Kassal doesn’t seem like the typical brawler Silco would meet here during his active years. There’s intelligence in his dark eyes, not yet fogged by multiple concussions. He doesn’t look Silco up and down ostentatiously, doesn’t curve his lips in a cruel manner to belittle his opponent with his unbeatable confidence.
Kassal is respectful, purposeful. His sight travels to Silco’s destroyed eye, clearly calculating if he can see with it.
The answer a decade ago would be ‘very well’, the answer today is ‘poorly’, but Kassal doesn’t need to know that.
Silco doesn’t waste this short moment pondering. He takes into account Kassal's nose, which has clearly been broken recently.
Good. If it has been a recent injury, it will still be tender. No swelling, but there is a yellow outline around the bridge and in the corners of both his eyes. It has been broken alright. About two weeks ago. That will come in handy.
As they separate to step into respectful distance, Silco quickly travels his sight over Kassal’s body, searching for more target spots. A greenish line of bruising on the left side of his ribcage close to the stomach is one. The second would be his left shoulder, which doesn’t roll with ease, and he keeps it lower - it might have been dislocated or the clavicle has been broken in the past.
It's the clavicle. There is a slight bump close to the shoulder that isn't present on the opposite side. It has been fractured and mended poorly.
That’s it. That’s all he gets. Three places that can be his means to victory and a few dirty tricks he’s learned in the past. He would pull those if the referee is prone to turn a blind eye. Silco would test it soon enough.
It isn’t much but it’s better than nothing at all.
The bell rings.
Silco takes a stance. Right foot forward, left back, both hands balled in fists high to defend the face, right shoulder towards the opponent slightly. He bounces, only a little bit, keeping the blood flowing, breathing a bit shallow.
And this is when his first advantage gets thrown out of the window.
Kassal smiles almost apologetically, and takes the exact same stance.
Silco grits his teeth. His opponent is a leftie as well.
No matter.
They circle in the opening dance, testing, building up, launching forwards, stepping back, swift jab kisses the opponent's defense just to be swatted away. A turn, switch of legs, heels barely touching the floor, eyes fixed on the other. The sounds of the crowd are gone, the rest of the room dips into darkness and all they have is this foreplay under the flickering light.
There is intimacy in that shared moment. A twisted one, granted, but still - what they share now is a tension of the unknown. Soon, they will share pain, sweat, and blood.
The years between them might mean everything or nothing. Their reasons for this meeting make them strangers. A push and a pull, all at the same time until one of them strikes.
Silco leaves the honors to Kassal. He was always the one to draw the first contact but today is different. He won't be the one to initiate. All he wants from this night is to either drown or become stronger again.
Kassal tests the ground with a sudden jab aimed for the center of Silco's face.
Silco blocks, feels the swish of a low hook and pain explodes in his right side.
He steps back, huffs a breath. Kassal moves into a right hook, Silco leans back to dodge it, the fist swishes an inch or two from his nose. A step back, he switches his legs and springs forwards.
Chest to chest, he clinches Kassal, turns them from the referee, and draws a half circle with his left elbow, the sharp bone crashing into Kassal's jaw.
His opponent gasps, the crowd screams at the foul move.
The referee doesn't call him out, making Silco smirk. It's one of those refs, one that will overlook an illegal move to rile up the crowd, as long as they're not too ostentatious.
The soles of their boots squeak on the varnished floor as they separate.
Kassal is blinking out sweat, frowning in pain. His hand jumps briefly to his cheekbone, marked red by Silco's elbow.
Silco feels his mouth stretching into a grin, this is what he hoped for. If he can fight dirty, his advantages are back up by one. It's only fair, given the size and weight of his much younger opponent.
Kassal's hands go up in defense as he advances again.
Silco blocks both left and right hooks to the side of his face, raising his shoulders and tucking his head between them. He steps back, retaliates with a right uppercut and misses.
A fist flies into the opening he offers, a strong hook on the cheek.
The strength of the impact snaps his head to the side and his defense falters for a second.
Hook to the scarred cheekbone followed by an uppercut to the ribs.
It punches the air out of his lungs and forces him another two steps back. In the daze, Silco feels cold, metal bars on his back.
Damnit.
He raises his guard right in time as Kassal swarms him with continuous hits. Silco keeps his head protected, his opponents wrapped knuckles connect with anything and everything, left and right. Shoulders, upper arms, unguarded sides, ribs, pressing him into the bars.
Silco clinches him, arms around Kassal's upper body, in desperate urge to disengage them.
He turns them, spins them around to get away from the bars, and as he lets go, his opponent sends a jab into Silco's face.
The knuckles crush his upper lip to the canine, and hot blood fills Silco's mouth.
He staggers and spits, grimacing.
The sight of the first blood makes the crowd explode in delight.
There's no time for Silco to recuperate from the impact still vibrating through his teeth. He only manages to partially attempt to raise his guard.
Not high enough, Kassal's dominant hand swings a hook into Silco's right cheekbone, spinning him to the side.
His shoulder collides with metal and he's back exactly where he tried so hard not to be, on the bars.
Silco is disoriented, dazed. He doesn’t even see Kassal approach with the uppercut to his chin, much less the headbutt to his forehead that follows.
*
The bell saves him.
He lowers, hands on his knees and head hanging. He doesn’t hear over the high pitched buzzing in his ears, much less comprehend the strong arm that roughly grabs his shoulder and shoves him towards the corner and onto a chair.
“What the fuck, Silco?”
A familiar voice brings him back into full consciousness. He lifts his head, it feels like it’s wobbling on his neck but it just might be the vertigo. Sevika looks half furious, half concerned, her lips are peeling in a grimace as she forces Silco’s face upwards so she can wipe the blood off of his mouth with a wet towel in her remaining hand.
“Sevika? What…”
“The dumb kid followed you so I followed her.” She nods below the stage. This snaps Silco back fully, eyes wide, he glances down, where Jinx holds on the lowest bar by both hands, looking up at him with something like guilt.
“I just wanted to know where’re you going…” She mutters defensively.
Sevika dismisses her with an eyeroll.
“No time for chit-chatting,” she turns to Silco, holding his chin and turning his face to see the damage, “This was incredibly stupid. End it.”
“No. I need this..” he swats her hand away, grabbing the towel from her to wipe his face.
“Take Jinx home. Now.”
“I don’t wanna go!”
“He’s gonna kill you.” Sevika ignores the child’s plea, “look at you, round one and you’re barely standing up.”
Silco grits his teeth. He tries to blink the sweat away, it stings in his left eye, but that isn’t what bothers him - it’s the throbbing pain in the right, the way he can see the edge of his cheekbone when he looks straight. It’s clearly swelling up. Not the best start to the match. His opponent being left handed is a serious problem - Silco has very little vision left in the left eye, most of the nerves on that side are dead too - an orthodox fighter would aim their best hits precisely there, meanwhile a leftie will leave more damage to the good part of Silco’s face. With his right eye, the one that he actually needs, swelling up already, he might never make it through the match. Three more well measured hits and it could close, leaving him with nothing but a red tinted blur of lights and shadows.
“Get some ice for the next bell.” He utters, standing up as the break is over. He would love to just order Sevika to take Jinx and go, leave him to this, but they are already here and with the way the situation is evolving, he might actually need help.
Sevika turns after him.
“What should I do with the kid?”
“Don’t lose her.” he shrugs.
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Just imagining someone saying "Eat my fucking ass Silco!" and his response is just "Okay. Bend over."
Anon you got a big brain. Also I'm sure you meant Silco/Reader but uhhh wrote Vanco instead
Silco/Vander - MDNI/NSFW
Tags: Rimming, Blowjobs, Anal Fingering, Top Silco, Bottom Vander
2k Words
"This is what's needed for the job, Vander."
"And you're asking for too much, Silco. We're running thin in the Lanes as it is." Vander runs a hand through his locks, sighing and trying to stop his nostrils from flaring. Ever since he had agreed to work with the other man again, it had been nothing but arguments and headaches.
"It's only a dozen more men at the harbor, Vander." Silco doesn't even look up from his spot on Vander’s couch, ledgers and censuses before him on the coffee table. He always loved to be sure about everything, never one to make a mistake even in their relatively calm meetings. Most of the time. "I've already stationed some of Smeech's people there. Yours will only be for backup."
"I'm telling you, we barely have enough of the people in the Lanes as it is. I can't assign the shopkeepers next."
"Can't you?" Blue and red eyes burn into Vander, a fire brimming beneath the surface. "Aren't you their leader, Vander?"
"It's not that simple."
Silco’s lips twitch turn downwards. "Do I have to give you a lesson on leadership?"
Vander glares at him then, fists curling. He was done with this meeting. "Eat my entire fucking ass, Silco."
The blue eye widens marginally and he drops his pen onto the coffee table. "Excuse me?"
"Oh, I'm sorry, was I not clear enough?" Vander leans over his desk with a sneer. "Eat my ass, Silco."
The man looks stunned for a moment, blue eye blinking before it all begins to harden. And Vander feels a moment of panic when Silco stands. Despite the size difference, Vander knows that Silco had spent most of the past decade apart as a ruthless killer. Vander’s muscles were from lifting heavy crates now, not from hitting any enforcers.
Silco makes his approach slow, moving to stand in front of Vanderr's desk. Both hands are behind his back, and he glances down at the desk before raising to the larger man's gaze and holding it. "Get on the desk then."
Vander blinks. "What?" He winces afterward because it sounds almost idiotic with how it falls out of his mouth. Not that Silco seems to care. Not with how his eyes keep burning into Vander.
"You heard me. Get on the desk and take your pants off."
Silco's tone suggests no room for argument, but Vander still sits where he is, a little stunned. "Silco I-"
"This was probably bound to happen sooner or later." He rounds the desk next, coming up right beside Vander. "It's best to get it out of the way now, and we can have a proper discussion afterwards like adults." He bends down, close enough that his lips almost brush against Vander's ear. "So get on the desk or tell me to leave."
Vander rises after that, halfway undoing his belt slowly, brow furrowing. Silco dominating him with just his gaze, the cold fire of those mismatched eyes encouraging him to continue to strip, and then again with a slow careful touch along his back.
It was the opposite of how they had done things when they were younger, not that Vander minded at all at how commanding Silco sounded now. Still, he wanted to be sure. "Are you sure you don't want me to-"
"I know exactly what I want." The touch dips down, fingers dragging along an old scar. Silco had been the one to stitch it. "And what I want is: you laid out before me, Vander."
Well-
Fuck.
Vander is kicking off his boots and pants next, and after a moment of hesitation, decides to say 'fuck it' and his shirt is gone too. Just the brace is left when he climbs onto the desk, laying back on it. It's not entirely comfortable, but there's a flare in his veins when Silco gazes at him, that helps him ignore it.
There's a nudge to one leg and Vander spreads them, letting Silco stand between them. One hand brushes over his inner thigh and Vander tries to hide the tremble it causes, but from how Silco's lips twitch, the other man was enjoying it. "If I had known it was so easy to get you to follow orders, I would've done this months ago."
Silco's fingers are long and cold, and Vander shivers as they run up his thighs. "Probably wouldn't have worked months ago."
"No, probably not. You needed some time and patience and to be a little worked up." Silco presses his fingers against the meat of his thighs, watching enraptured over Vander's face, like he’s taking not of every twitch or squirm.
It's a horribly hot sight, that has the heat rising on the larger man's cheeks. And something else rising as well he notices after a moment. Blushing terribly, he meets Silco's stare, fingers fidgeting against the wood of the desk. "Maybe."
The shorter man smiles then, the first real one of the evening and it makes Vander's heart leap. And then start beating far too fast, when Silco sinks onto his knees. "Well, I shouldn't keep you waiting after such patience."
Warmed fingers are soon spreading him wide, and Vander can feel his face going even redder as Silco just stares at him, taking in the sight for a moment. "You don't have to memorize it, ya know."
The real, elegant eyebrow raises. "Are you suggesting this becomes a regular thing?"
Janna, he hopes so. "It can be. If you want."
"We'll see if I do."
The conversation dies when Silco leans forward. A kiss to a cheek first before scraping chipped teeth against it, creating a nice bruise that will bloom later. Lips drag along the skin, until they finally reach his hole, before moving an inch below. Which has Vander wondering what the fuck he was doing before he felt it. "Oh. Oh, fuck."
Silco drags the flat of his tongue upwards, lapping over Vander's asshole three times before pulling back. Fingers dig into his skin before he feels the sudden wetness against his hole and Silco is lapping at him again, much more smoothly.
He had spit on him. Vander probably should've taken offense to it, but all he wanted was for Silco to spit on him again. His legs shift, lifting slightly to give the other man more room. "Silco." It comes out as a moan.
The shorter man pulls back, just a little, smirking when the larger man groans above him. "I've barely started, Vander."
"Then don’t stop. Please."
"Keep your hands to yourself. Behave. And I won't stop." Then he's diving in again, nose pressing against the skin just beneath his balls while his tongue works over his hole once more. Lapping a few more times, before the tip of his tongue works over the ring of muscle.
Vander has never felt anything like this. Literally, no one had ever put their tongue on him like this before. He was always meant to be the one to take care of other people.
But now he can't stop himself from whining as Silco dips his tongue in a little, back arching and cock straining against his stomach. He grips the desk and not Silco, just as the other man instructed, panting and trying to gaze down to just see the wisps of dark and silver locks.
Okay, maybe he liked being taken care of too. Just a little bit.
Silco's tongue flicks, and he's realizing he might like being played with a lot more than he ever thought he might. Vander can't help it, not as the other man's name slips from his mouth.
And then Silco's lips leave him, a final kiss. Then there's the sound of spitting but Vander can't feel it and that’s more alarming. "Silco?"
Blue and red meet silver eyes. "Do you trust me, Vander?"
Vander takes only a moment to respond. "Yes."
Wet fingers brush over his asshole next, and he tenses, an automatic response to the new pressure. Silco's other hand brushes over his thigh, soothingly before his mouth moves to press a kiss onto his balls and has him relaxing enough for a digit to circle the ring of muscle just as Silco's tongue did.
But unlike Silco's tongue, it's a lot longer. It slides in easily, and Vander's gasping at the feeling. It touches him somewhere deep, curling, and his cock jump. "Fuck, Silco. That's so good."
The other man answers with his lips pressing upward, a series of kisses running up his shaft. Eyes meet as Silco drags his lips back downwards, moving in time with his finger.
When Silco rises, his mouth moves to enclose around the tip of his cock, and a second finger presses against him too. When it presses in, Silco swallows him down to the base in one smooth movement that has Vander shouting.
Silco's head bobs in time with his fingers thrusts, tongue curling against the underside of Vander's dick. Fuck, it's too good. It's too much. Vander's never had this much stimulation before, and his fingers dig into the desk hard enough to dent it. "Silco, I'm gonna cum. Please. Please!"
The shorter man only continues his movements, and when Vander’s balls tighten, his back strains in a way that will leave him aching tomorrow, Silco takes everything Vander can give him and swallows it down.
Mouth and fingers part from him next, spreading him while his legs were still shaking, checking on his hole to make sure he was okay before Silco rises. He stretches across the desk, pressing his body to Vander’s and takes the larger man’s face in hand. Lips brush over his jaw while he grinds his hard cock against Vander’s hip. Giving him a few minutes to recover before one hand moves to his hair and sharply pulls “Get on your knees.”
Vander does so, slipping from the desk and settling onto his knees just as Silco slips off of him. Naked while Silco was still fully dressed, though with four snaps of buttons a familiar part of him is soon also exposed.
“Open, Vander.” When he does, Silco sinks the tip of his cock into his mouth. There’s a coo above him, as both hands run into the brown locks. “Good boy. Relax.”
Lips part wider, letting Silco have more room. Fingers grip into Vander’s hair, and he moves to grip his own knees, doing his best to relax. He knows what’s about to happen, he doesn’t try to stop it. And when Silco starts to fuck his mouth, Vander realizes how much he likes it. A little too much if he’s honest, with how hot it has him feeling.
It doesn’t help that Silco can never keep quiet, even while he’s fucking Vander’s face.
“That’s it. Look at how well you’re taking my cock.” He holds Vander’s head in place, thrusting in and out. Going a little deeper after each couple of thrusts, until Vander gags on him. The blue eye rolls back at the sensation, and soon is thrusting back onto it. “That’s it. Gag on it, like the whore you are.”
With watering eyes, he moans around it instead, and Silco’s eyes snap down onto his. “Oh? You like being my whore?” Another moan, and Silco’s grabbing his hair even tighter, balling it into his fists as he sinks in even deeper. “Hound of the underworld, but that was never right was it? When you’re more like a bitch in heat. Angry and spitting until someone fucks you right.”
Vander’s dick gives a small twitch, not enough to get hard again so quickly, but the interest is plain to him. Even as tears begin to roll down his cheeks, drool pooling past his chin as Silco fucks his mouth so roughly, he still wants more. Wants to be filled in new ways.
Though from how his back and jaw are already aching, perhaps not filled in new ways today.
Silco pushes fully into him and Vander chokes around his dick, throat straining to take him. And then the other man pulls out entirely, and Vander leaves his mouth open while he pants and cries.
One hand leaves his hair to jerk off his cock, only take a few flicks of his wrist before Vander’s face gets streaks of warmth onto it. He moans, eyes fluttering, before both of them pant.
When fingers untangle from his hair, they don’t move to wipe the cum off of his face. Carefully avoiding it to cup his cheek, tilting his head upwards so they can view each other.
It’s almost unfair how not wrecked Silco looks, just a few hairs out of place and a slight shine on his forehead. Otherwise, he’s still perfectly put together. But there’s a smile there now, softer and tender.
Both slow-moving, Silco helps him rise, to settle back into his chair, still naked. There’s no energy to put his clothes back on yet. “So,” Vander starts, voice hoarse, “That was fun.”
“Quite.” Fingers gently brush through his hair, rubbing over the sore spots from where he had been grabbing it. “A better way to end the meeting, I think.”
Vander hums in agreement, leaning into the other man’s touch. It grows quiet, neither needing to speak for a few minutes, basking in the soft and tender afterglow.
Silco breaks it, as his habit. “Vander?”
“Hmm?”
There’s a pause. “I want this to be a regular occurrence.”
Vander smiles. “Well, isn’t that a romantic way of putting it.”
Silco’s eyes roll, but he leans down to capture Vander’s lips in a kiss that’s almost hilariously chaste after what they had just done. Pulling back, his lips curl into a bladed smirk. “Would you prefer I go find a poem to recite to you? I’m sure there are some good ones at the library-”
“This is fine enough.”
“That’s what I thought.” Silco huffs but doesn’t move far, lips pressing against Vander’s ear. “I missed you.”
Something tight breaks in Vander’s chest, and the tears that are starting to break through are very different than the ones from before. “I missed you too, Silco.”
Another pause and the lips curl against him. “I’m still taking those men.”
Vander rolls watery eyes, dragging Silco in close to him.
“Fine.”
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Ignis Fatuus (Foolish Flame)
Chapter 4
Read here on AO3
Her visit with Mulder was a blur. He was irritable and tired. Mulder isn’t the type of person who is comfortable sitting still and resting. She knows this from his prolonged rehabilitation after taking a slug to the femoral artery during their first year working together. She had played a naive Clarice Starling to a psychopath and it had ended with Mulder nearly bleeding to death on a dock. She remembers that feeling of dread when she couldn’t assess his blood loss because it was pouring through the decking into the water below.
He had overextended himself today. Of that she is certain. It is a sobering thought. That a short walk to purchase some groceries is still too much for him in his current state. Open brain surgery is brutal requiring a six-week minimum recovery. That is when they know exactly what was done. The upside is there appeared to be minimal violence to his parietal bone considering he had endured an unscheduled craniotomy.
His vitals were normal. Blood pressure and pulse textbook but a little higher than normal for a man in his level of physical fitness. He tersely answered her uncomfortable questions. His breath sounds were normal. Her fears of a pulmonary embolism or massive infection were allayed.
It wasn’t until she removed his bandage that she began to worry again. Of course, this was itchy. He has the beginnings of a localized infection around his sutures. She had slammed her eyes closed worried that getting him to agree to another hospital visit would be nearly impossible.
When she opened her eyes he was watching her face intently.
“It looks like you have a small infection starting around your sutures. If this surgical site were anywhere else I would bring you oral antibiotics. I don’t want to take any chances with this. I think you need IV vancomycin.” She said in the calmest voice she could produce.
To his credit, he didn't argue but disappointment and frustration were written on his face. She would have been more comforted if he had lodged a campaign to avoid the hospital. It took a few minutes to get a fresh bandage applied and they were out the door, Mulder in sweats and a ripped Brooklyn Dodgers T-shirt. Her stomach is sour with worry.
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It’s 2 am by the time she leaves him sleeping, doped to the gills with Benzos and fluids going into one arm and full-strength Vanco into the other. She is almost as punch drunk as he is having flown a badly routed connecting flight from Chicago less than 24 hours ago. She takes a moment to close her eyes, jolting awake when headlights fly past her in the Georgetown medical parking garage.
She urges herself into action and pulls her car out onto the empty streets of Georgetown pointing towards the Richmond suburbs yet again with a piece of Mulder’s bandage securely in her pocket.
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She wakes up slowly on a thread-bare couch. She smells garlic and coffee and sees a sunbeam traveling from a high transom window to the wall above her. She stretches and sits up slowly. One of the gunmen has delivered her coffee and next to it sits a bakery bag bulging with bagels.
Thank god for these wonderful nerds
She is finishing adding cream to her coffee when she hears a quiet knock on the door a pause and then Byers sneaking a look around the door to see if she is awake.
“Oh hi, Agent Scully. I took a guess and toasted an everything bagel for you.” He says politely as he sets a plate down on the coffee table. He is already in a suit and she wonders if he slept in it or if it's just later in the morning than she had intended to rest. “Frohike is ready to talk with you in the lab.”
“Thank you.” She sighs trying to pull herself together a bit.
She meets Frohike in an alcove towards the back of their offices. She can see the rest of the space from where she sits. Byers has started to fidget with some hardware, glancing up at her every few minutes looking like an overgrown owl. She is fairly certain she can’t be heard from where they are.
Frohike wastes no time before launching into their reason for meeting.
“Anna Walsh… thought to be 35 years old. Her birthdate is listed as September 17th, 1965. Her fingerprints are on record in the state of Illinois as a requirement for employment working with kids. The earliest records I can find of her is that she passed a GED exam in 1984, after that I have a lot of work history. The state of Illinois Department of Revenue has two unclaimed paychecks on file totaling $367, one from an after-school coordinator job at the YMCA and the other from a bar in the Polish downtown area of Chicago. She has no arrest record that I can find; however, there are two incidents where she was detained briefly and released. I would guess that she was involved in some way with the guilty party in both cases, either riding in the car or sharing a living space. Both instances were drug-related.”
He pauses to see Scully’s reaction to that. Scully listens intently, sipping her coffee. Her expression is tight, mulling over each bit of detail Frohike supplies.
“She moves to the suburbs at some point. The first address tied to her that I can find is a small apartment near a mall in Naperville in 1989. The lease was in her name only. After that, I didn’t see any rental records until the past two years in Mount Carol where she cosigned on a house rental with a woman named Maya Williams who appears to have also been in foster care and is close to the same age as Anna.
When Frohike pauses she waits.
“That’s what I have. She doesn’t appear to have a driver's license. The DNA was difficult. My lab contact says that the sample is degraded. He hopes it will be enough to show a relationship but he isn’t confident.”
Scully stands and looks around. Byers seems to have found a task interesting enough to occupy him. Langly is sitting on the couch playing a video game with headphones on. It’s all so overwhelming, each tidbit of information swirling in her mind to create an image of who this woman is. It’s also quite underwhelming. This will not be definitive. There is so much more information she will need before going to Mulder.
She feels herself sag, the emotions of the past two days catching up with her. It must be evident on her face. Frohike looks apologetic and concerned.
“I hate to admit this but I would know a lot more if I could widen our circle a bit here. Langly could get into the adoption records. I fear that if I try I will send up a flag on our activity. Don't ever tell him that I said that.”
Scully chuffs a small laugh and reluctantly agrees. “Her juvenile files must be sealed,” She says.
“I believe it’s the case for all members of the foster care system in this state. Without any idea of how she came to be in Chicago and at what age we really can’t make any headway. We need to know how this happened to gauge whether she is safe.” He levels her with a serious look. “Let me bring Byers and Langly in to find her childhood records. I won't tell them your suspicions or the DNA tests.”
She thanks Byers for the bagel and takes what is left of her coffee with her into the early morning air. The circle is widening. The wider it gets before she talks to Mulder the more uncomfortable she gets.
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When he wakes up she is there beside him, dozing in a chair with her head on the bed next to his hip. She has changed and showered. He can smell her fresh flowery shampoo. It seems that she has brought him coffee.
Despite his recent discontent with being infirm and dependent, Mulder feels better than he has in the two weeks since he last woke up in a hospital. The difference between waking up to her then versus now is heartening. She isn’t radiating fear for his life. He isn’t in any pain. This was only a precaution she had assured him. The doctors had been in at the crack of dawn to inform him that his blood tests looked good and that the antibiotics were doing their job.
She looks peaceful in her uncomfortable position just like the million times she's fallen asleep on planes, in cars on stakeouts… just like this waiting on him to wake up in the hospital. Her hand is slightly curved and he thinks she might have been holding his hand at some point. He marvels at how she manages to sleep anywhere as he starts in on the coffee she brought. It's from a cafe near her apartment that she knows he likes. It’s not fully cooled so he figures she must have gotten here recently. He squints at her watch. It’s already 9:30 in the morning.
A nurse bustles in and halts when she sees Scully asleep. She quietly goes about her tasks placing discharge paperwork on his table and removing his IVs. He holds his right arm over his body so she can take out both from one side of the bed. “I’ll come back for those papers after the neurologist comes and gives you your instructions. You should be able to leave within the hour.” She says in a hushed warm tone and leaves with a friendly smile.
He doesn’t want to wake her. He tries to remember the last time she has been at peace in his presence and struggles to do so. It must have been Vegas. By the time he had arrived, she had already roundly shamed the Lone Gunmen for luring her under false pretenses. She had been nursing a protracted but manageable medication-induced hangover and let him treat her to lunch at a burger stand loved by the locals and a walk through an old graveyard of historic neon signs. He had been in such a good mood he even dropped a 10 into the collection tin with the sign saying “Help us get plugged in, Donations Encouraged.”
Something about watching her eat unreserved always puts him in a better mood, especially in the past 2 years. She had scarfed down a huge burger and almost all of their shared fries. “I don’t get why they didn’t just ask for my help.” She stated around a mouth full of French fries. She washed them down with a swig of beer. “I’m not that difficult to approach. Why all the subterfuge?” She said leaning forward on her elbows and regarding him seriously.
He had thought it better to keep his response to himself and chose that moment to take a long pull from his beer. “Hhm, the guys just prefer to operate on subterfuge. I think they get off on it.” He said following it up with the most charming smile he could come up with.
He could tell she had been feeling better and her eyes sparkled with a bit of mischief. The tilt of her lips had him suspecting that she was considering pushing the issue further but instead, she surprised him by suggesting they try their hands at some poker before catching their flight that evening.
Then the next two months happened. They had quarreled in a way they hadn’t since right before their unexpected trip to Antarctica. Only this time it was he who suggested that her contribution to their work was trivial. He regretted it and she knew that. They had barely gotten their feet under them when the artifact showed up.
In the space of two weeks, she had been to Africa and the American Southwest in search of answers to save his life. When she arrived at his side desperate to communicate with him she was still fighting for his life. There was nothing trivial about what this woman adds to his life.
Now months later she is dozing peacefully. He hopes that he can figure out a way to allow her to keep this peace for a little while. It’s the least he could do. Finally, he reaches out and tucks her hair behind her ear and she stirs, waking slowly and then suddenly all at once. When she fixes her eyes on him she gives him a warm sleepy smile. He swallows what feels like a giant lump in his chest as she reaches for his arm turning it over and running her fingers over the bandage left behind from his recently removed IV. She glances at his other arm and then into his eyes.
“It looks like I’m ok to go home.” He says his voice slightly thick. He clears his throat. “Just waiting on a final visit from the doctor.”
“Good.” She says, still holding his arm. Her fingers are rubbing a light circle around the underside of his forearm. “I’ll get the paperwork to the nurse,” she says reluctantly letting him go.”
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So I got puked on in the middle of the night by a (cousin’s) kid so instead of filling prompts I was inspired to write Silco and Vander dealing with Powder turning up in the room sick in the middle of the night.
This is basically a continuation of this one I wrote some months back but is completely stand-alone so you don’t need to read it (but also if you like worried!dads Vanco with Powder than I suggest reading it).
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Silco wakes when the bedroom door opens.
In the past he would have reached for the blade he keeps on the bedside draw, assuming it is someone come to try and kill him or Vander or at try and steal what they have built for themselves.
Now he assumes it’s one of the kids.
Sure enough when he looks over its Powder’s tiny frame blocking the light coming in the door. Her shoulders shaking from muffled sobs.
“What happened?” Silco asks, getting up and out of bed to go to the girl as Vander wakes from his own slumber next to him mumbling a she alright?
“I puked,” Powder says. And sure enough as Silco’s eyes adjust to the limited light coming from the hallway he sees the vomit now covering the front of the girl’s nightdress. Her long hair plastered to her face and neck.
It at least explains why she was out of sorts at dinner, having to be carried to bed and falling asleep nearly right away.
“I’ll get a bucket,” Vander says, rolling out of bed to do so as Silco kneels to the girl’s height.
“Are you feeling better now?” Silco asks, silently hoping it was just a one off vomit in the night. He pushes blue hair from the girls face, confirming she managed to get vomit in there too.
Powder shakes her head and that is all the warning Silco gets before she’s vomiting again. This time over the front of his own night-shirt.
“I’m sorry!” Powder sobs before vomiting on him again. Vander really needing to hurry up with the bucket.
Silco forces his face to relax from the scowl he knows has settled on it. Powder can hardly be blamed for getting sick and clothes can be washed.
“It’s alright,” Silco assures her as the girl lets out hiccupping sobs.
Vander returns just in time before she vomits again. Shoving the bucket under her face as she starts to gag and heave. He hands it over so Silco can sit on the floor with Powder settled in his lap, the bucket under her. Vander looking down at it all with sympathetic eyes, thankfully not making comment on how Silco’s covered in vomit as well now.
“I’ll start pouring a bath,” Vander says.
“Get me a hair tie first,” Silco orders. “And a cloth.”
Vander nods at it and gets the requested items before once again staring over them uselessly.
“Do you need anything else or am I good to go start the bath?” he asks after a second or two of it.
“That’s it,” Silco says, starting to braid Powder’s hair. They will have to wash it to get the vomit out but at least it won’t keep falling over her face as she’s bent over the bucket. Silco wiping off the worst of the vomit from himself and her with the cloth.
“Call if you need me,” Vander says before leaving. Allowing Silco to give his full attention to their youngest.
“That’s it – just get it all out,” Silco tells the sobbing, hurling girl. Rubbing along her back to try and sooth her. Her skin feels warm under his touch and her nightdress is sticking along her back from where she’s sweat through it. She no doubt has a high temperature.
“I’m sorry,” She mumbles again between hurls. “I got you gross.”
“You don’t need to apologize,” Silco assures her. “It will wash off.”
The girl makes a bubbling strangled noise that Silco doesn’t know if it is acknowledgement of what he said or just a sound of her misery.
“How’s she doing?” Vander asks when he returns to the room. He kneels next to Silco and rubs at Powder’s shoulders as she continues to bring up everything she had had for dinner.
Silco just raises his brow at Vander because how does he think she’s doing?
Vander sighs.
“Poor little one. I got the bath running Powder, why don’t you get into it and see if that makes you feel a bit better?”
Powder weakly nods at the suggestion.
“Do you want me to carry you?” Vander asks.
Powder shakes her head at that, slumping against Silco’s shoulder.
“How about Silco carry you then?” Vander asks and Powder gives a weak nod at that. “You good to take her love?”
Silco doesn’t say anything just adjusts the girl’s weight in his arms so she can pick her up. Vander taking the bucket to make it easy, following behind as Silco carries her to the bathroom where the tub is slowly filing up with water. The whole building being plumbed is one of the advantages of living beneath a bar.
Silco holds Powder balanced as Vander tugs her night dress off her and then transfers her into the bath that she slumps into.
“I’ll go strip her bed,” Vander says. “Do you need the bucket Powder?”
She shakes her head.
“In that case I’ll empty it out and bring it back first,” Vander says, which earns him a weak nod from the girl.
He gives Silco a worried glance before leaving. Powder never this flat and even knowing the reason they still can’t help but worry.
Silco works on undoing Powder’s hair again. Turning off the taps once the tub is full enough.
Vander returns with the bucket as well as a glass of juice and a bread-roll.
“In case she feels up to it,” he says in explanation before heading off again.
Silco returns to cleaning the vomit off Powder as she stays slumped against the edge of the bath. Wiping her face with the cloth drenched in the bath water and lathering her hair up with shampoo.
“I need to dunk your head,” Silco tells her waiting for the nod until he does. Washing out all the suds and chunks of brought-up food as quickly as he can.
She still comes up spluttering and gagging. Reaching for the bucket that Silco quickly helps her get under face for her to dry heave over. Nothing left in her stomach to bring up.
“This sucks,” she moans after coughing and dropping the bucket back to the ground. Leaning against the edge of the bath again.
“Let’s hope it’s just a 24-hour bug,” Silco says earning him a sleepy hum in agreement. “Do you want something to eat?”
Powder shakes her head.
“To drink?”
A second passes and she nods.
Silco holds the glass as she ships at the juice Vander brought. Putting it back up once she’s finished.
“I brought some new clothes for her,” Vander says when he returns. “And a change of shirt for you. I’ll watch her for a minute so you can clean yourself up.”
“Are you okay with that Powder?” Silco asks, waiting for the nod before he trades with Vander. Using the damp washcloth to wipe the vomit on his skin at the bathroom sink off before changing shirts.
He can take a proper bath himself tomorrow.
Right now it’s more important they get the girl settled.
Vander’s helping Powder out of the bath when he returns. Toweling her off before getting her dressed into her fresh nightdress.
“How about you sleep with us tonight?” Vander asks her, earning a nod.
Vander carries her back to bed, Silco following with the bucket and cloth in case they are required later in the night. They can deal with the rest in the morning, right now they just need to get what sleep they can.
Vander puts Powder down on the middle of the bed and she immediately reaches out towards Silco, cuddling against him when he slips into his side after putting the bucket and cloth onto the bedside draws. Vander settling in on his own side and rubbing along Powder’s back for a little before settling in to sleep.
Silco’s aware it’s him who is in the line of fire should the girl vomit again before morning. But he supposes that’s just part of being a parent.
#Vanco#Zaun Dads#Vander Arcane#Silco Arcane#Powder Arcane#I accidently a ficlet#Zaun Family#(in the I will want to find it in that tag sense)#Arcane
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Vanco? Are we getting past vanco??
Hahaha could you imagine? Vander shows up like the jealous ex lover in a telenovela, slaps reader for stealing his man and pulls a gun on Silco demanding he come home and be a father to their girls?
…wait 👀
TIME FOR A REWRITE
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Vanco is like when someone is your biggest enemy and you hate them but they are also so vastly important in your life that you can’t live without them. Also giving each other gifts on their birthday after trying to kill each other maybe
YEAH YEAH YEAH they are literally each others toxic homoerotic friendship from high school, like you will always be a part of each other because they've seen you become the person you are, they made you become the person you are and you can reconcile with who they are not but the past and the love is still there, it's just not enough to make up for everything between you
also it always makes me laugh that they literally share a daughter hdhdjdjdjjdjd who does it like toxic middle aged men who are obsessed with each other, no one. they communicate through jinx drawing pictures because they refuse to speak to each other when they do exchanges between weekends in a parking lot per the custody agreement
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A break from my current Top Gun ramblings, but I read “First Heat Negotiations” by @goddessofroyalty three days ago and I haven’t stopped thinking about it since. Its an Omegaverse for Arcane with Vander and Silco. I’ve read it over and over again over the past three days (in addition to their work Wet Nurse.) So now I am just desperate for all the Vanco/Zaundads content I can find. 10000/10 would recommend.
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1k followers prompt fic! Silco + comfort food
Silco discovers that a staple food of his youth, long thought to have disappeared from Zaun, is back on the streets. He has to share this with Powder and Vi, both born too late to have ever tried it.
Thank you to those who voted, and thanks as well to all of you for tagging along to this oddball writer blog. You're appreciated, even if you only came in for the dinosaur gifs and are very confused rn.
(๑❛ω❛๑)♥
#Silco#Sevika#arcane vi#powder#jinx#arcane#arcane fanfic#arcane jinx#past vanco#comfort food#food#f&d#Silco's A+ Parenting#fanfic#1k followers#1k celebration#Silco & Vi#Silco & Jinx#Silco & Sevika#one shot
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“Fear Haunts Us All” sketch (2022)
Follow me @msmagicmane on Instagram!!!
#arcane#league of legends#silco#arcane show#silco fanart#get jinxed#jinx#cartoon#shadow#silhouette#vander x silco#vander#vanco#fear#past#ghosts#caricature#sketch#arcane fanart
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'Til I'm laughing alone - INTRO
My entry into @aromansoul's Boxer!Silco AU
TW: Blood, Injury, Graphic description of violence, angst, whump
My entry, or an attempt on thereof, is set about a week or two after Arcane episode 3, so it features Act 1 Silco, Powder, and Sevika, as well as mentions of Vander and vague hints on Vanco.
I also focused on bare knuckle fighting instead of straight up boxing.
This is part 1/5
PART2 | PART3
'Til I'm laughing alone
Sometimes it can seem like a merciless dream
And I'm falling with nothing to hold
Sometimes I get flustered and beaten and blistered
Abandoned outside in the cold
I’m Gonna Win - by Rob Cantor
It's been years.
Silco feels it too, when the knuckles, wrapped in leather, clip him on the chin, sending his head skyward. He can see a spray of his own blood against the flickering, yellow light on the low ceiling.
In his twenties, he would have dodged this one; stepped to the right to get an opening for a left hook into the opponent’s stomach.
In his early thirties, he would have taken it, though it wouldn’t phase him. His head would snap right back and, while his opponent’s left arm is still withdrawing back, Silco would clench him, turning them both away from the referee so he could ram his fist into the man’s kidney without being penalized.
Today, biting the early numbers of forty, he can feel his mind swim from that uppercut. His head slowly lolls back down, straight in the hands of his opponent. His face is the last thing Silco sees for this round too, because before his eyes even adjust to the view, the man launches forward forehead first and its top part crashes into Silco’s own.
He loses his vision in an explosion of reds and yellows, then stumbles backward until his bare back impacts the rattling cage.
A bell rings as Silco slumps forwards, hands on his knees and head hanging. Vertigo tells him that up is right, left is green, and down is twenty two. When Sevika grabs his shoulders and pushes him towards a chair, he’s still seeing double.
And this was just Round 1.
*
“This needs to stop.”
Silco narrows his eyes, scowling. He slowly looks up, lips parted. It isn’t often that Sevika uses this tone with him.
They have a rather clear employer-employee relationship most of the time, though that dynamic would be untrue as well. Silco doesn’t pay her, and she isn’t obligated to follow him. Their bond is the future she trusts he can provide. This is why she supports and follows him. It’s much the same with the rest of the group. The little money they used to make behind the Hound’s back was just enough to cover their expenses, most was poured into Singed’s resources, and the rest invested into sharp eyes and ears out there in the Lanes.
Silco is the leader but not the boss.
Now that the Hound is dead, all of this could change, and they know it too. There is a future ahead of them. Perhaps it will be dark for a while, lined with corpses and corruption, but there will be light soon. Just as soon as they gather enough to make the topsiders really worried - enough to withdraw their well-manicured fingers from Zaun and hand over that Decree of Independence.
But first, Silco would have to start doing something. And of course, the past week and a half, he has been doing very much nothing but sitting at the bar of the dark and empty Last Drop and pouring himself drink after drink from quickly disappearing bottles. Of course, occasionally, he would drag his feet to Vander’s former room above the bar, the one with that large, circular window, and lock himself in there for hours.
He needs time. Time to swallow all that happened. Vander’s death most of all.
And clearly, Sevika is here to tell him this mourning time is over. He watches her from underneath the heavy eyelid of his good eye as she stands behind the bar he was the sole patron of at the moment. Sevika’s left arm is gone, amputated at the shoulder and bandaged heavily. He already has some good artificers working on an enhanced arm for her. She is still in recovery, or should be, the pain must be incredible. However, that clearly doesn't stop her from pushing him out of his welcoming despair.
"Shouldn't you be resting?" Silco asks slowly. The way his voice slurs startles him a bit. Perhaps he had one too many.
And perhaps not, he thinks defiantly as he brings the glass to his lips again.
It never reaches there. Sevika's good arm swats it out of his hand. His eyes widen at the sound of the shattering glass but Sevika doesn’t give him any time to react. Her hand grabs the undone front of his vest and drags him forward until their noses nearly touch.
“I would LOVE to rest, but I was just clearly promoted to someone’s mom.”
The level of impertinence makes Silco grit his teeth. He opens his mouth to answer but Sevika doesn’t give him the chance.
“I followed you for years. The things we had to all sacrifice to get where we are now… I lost my ARM protecting you. Our friends are dead. And we are good with all that but you gotta do what you promised!” She lets go and Silco has to hold on to the bar to keep himself steady.
“Look, I get it. You thought the thing with Vander was gonna go differently,” she grabs the bottle standing open at the bar and takes a swig straight out of it, “Well, shit. It didn’t. And it’s probably for the best. You needed to mourn? Fine. You did. You were moping here for a week, not talking to anyone, drunk morning to night, listening to some ghosts of the past - good. Now it’s time to pull yourself together. We have plans, remember?”
Sevika looks at him sharply. Silco stares into the hardwood of the bar. Getting scolded by a comrade isn’t something he would bite on a good day, and this certainly isn’t a good day at all, but they are alone, and Sevika is right. He knows she is. He doesn’t answer at first, gathering his words.
“Your insufferable impudence aside, I won’t deny that you’re correct. I…slacked. It has been hard for us all, Sevika.”
“No shit,” she scoffs and shakes her head, “But we can’t stop now, Silco. Vander has already stopped you once. You gonna let him do it when he’s dead too?”
He looks at her, eyes wide. She sniffles and takes another swig from the bottle.
“Mek and Ran are taking care of that kid you so graciously adopted. She needs you too, you promised her you’ll take care of her.” She sets the bottle down and turns to leave.
Silco freezes for a moment, then looks up.
"Sevika."
She turns.
He wants to ask her if this was all a mistake. If taking that heartbroken, weeping child in was the right step. He wants to tell her that he's thankful that she saved his life, and that he's sorry.
But he can't.
Sevika sighs.
"Sleep it off. In bed for once."
*
Silco’s head feels clearer after a week of regular work. The hangover after his talk with Sevika mostly prevents him from planning the next day, so he utilizes the time to resolve the most pressing issues. He visits Singed, who seems unaffected by his terrible burns, sets another meeting with Marcus, informs several leaders of smuggling chains who is in charge now, and meets up with Babette. No better way to control the Lanes than through the local brothel.
He visits the girl. He has barely spoken to her since that night. He learns her name is Jinx, or so she chooses to be called. She made sure to scratch over the brightly painted ‘Powder’ on the door to her and her sister’s room (completely blacking out the other name), and on the head of her bed.
He doesn’t argue. Jinx is a nice name. It has a beat to it. Sometimes, one is what they choose to be, not what others tell them they are. Silco would know a thing or two about it.
She asks about Vi. He tells her the truth and then holds her when she cries. He doesn’t know how to comfort a child so he just listens. It seems to be enough.
Jinx tells him about her nightmares. Asks if they’ll stop. He tells her they won’t. She needs to get used to them, then they won’t hurt as much. He would know about that too.
It dawns on him, suddenly, that they have much in common, and the thought that taking her in was a mistake leaves his mind, never to return.
At the end of the week, they seem to be back on track. Vander’s followers are either bought off, killed, or talked into alliances. The production of Shimmer is renewed. Silco has picked candidates for the individual business branches. The Last Drop is being refurbished into his headquarters; he claims Vander’s room as his office.
And yet, something is amiss.
No matter how much he works, Silco feels empty. Everything is as if he was under water. The meetings are dull, the progress is insignificant, the revenue means nothing.
He forgets to inject with Shimmer once or twice. The migraine the next day reminds him. He almost passes out one morning, then realizes he’s skipped food the previous day.
Vander had drowned him once before, but that time, Silco resurfaced, found his way out, and became stronger for it.
This time, Vander had drowned him thoroughly.
He knows he needs to resurface, fight his way out of this river of depression that is filling his lungs again, this time not with toxins but with despair and misery.
*
“How old are you even?”
The rude question raises Silco’s brow and makes him pause. He’s wrapping his right hand in thick strips of leather with a trained motion. He’s not done this for a decade, it’s just muscle memory and he’s satisfied with how well he remembers.
“Is there an age limit now? That’s news to me.”
“Nah, just…you’re gonna die man.” the supervisor scoffs. He’s supposed to oversee that Silco doesn’t cheat - brass knuckles or stripes of metal covered by the bandages, hidden weapons in boots or pockets, things that would render the match unfair.
“Unlikely.”
“You a southpaw?”
Silco doesn’t reply, he finds it rather apparent. The supervisor grabs the other roll of leather and gestures to Silco to give him his left hand.
“Guess you have that goin’ for ya. You ever done this? Never seen you here.”
“No, you wouldn’t, you’re too young.” Silco sighs, watching the other man wrapping his left hand firmly.
“Hah, so you did. Took a break for a couple years?”
“I no longer needed it.” It was true.
The supervisor steps back and nods his head.
“A’right, stand up, let me check you real quick.”
Silco lifts his arms slightly to allow the man to check around his waist and down his thighs. The hard hands are tapping first one leg, then the other all the way down to his socked feet, then he checks each of his boots individually before handing them back.
“Okay, all clear, now, I just gotta tell you the rules, I don’t care if you know them already.” The supervisor blabbers off while Silco sits down and pulls his boots back on.
The rules didn’t change. Bare knuckle fight in Zaun was always the same. No eye gouging, no grabbing of genitals. No hits below the waist. No weapons. When the opponent is down, no touching. No kicking, no stomping on feet.
Hits are allowed with a closed fist only. Headbutts are allowed. The target is anywhere above the navel. Fight stops if one is unconscious, dead, or unable to continue.
There are four rounds.
The only thing that changed is the admission fee.
"Got a corner man?"
The question tears Silco out of his thoughts. He's on edge.
"What? No." Clearly. The supervisor sighs.
"Alright, I'll get you someone."
He says it as though it's a problem. That much has not changed. Fighting tooth and nail for a pitiful price to entertain a crowd of drunk sailors and miners alike, only to be seen as an animal. The reward was rarely worth it.
But Silco isn't here for the money.
*
The supervisor leads him into the arena. It's overwhelming even after all those years. The dark hall filled with a mass of bodies stinking of cheap alcohol and sweat, the only light shining way too bright into the center, on a cage made of scrap metal. The shoulder-high railing serves instead of ropes and one has to either crawl between the horizontal bars or climb over. The floor of the arena is a platform of hardwood, soaked with blood where the varnish chipped off.
Silco feels his guts clench at the smell and sound, the dozens of drunken voices screaming over one another, all asking for blood. It brings back memories.
Another person grabs Silco's upper arm by the entrance, a tough-looking woman much younger than him. She seems unimpressed.
"I'm gonna be your corner man." She informs him.
He blocks out the screaming crowd and climbs over the bars.
His opponent makes the entrance after his announcement. Silco missed if he had been announced or not, he wasn't paying attention. All he catches is the man's name.
Kassal.
Silco feels out of shape compared to this man. He must be a decade or so younger, thirty maybe, and he has good five or six inches in height on Silco.
None of that is an issue. The real problem is their weight difference.
Kassal must weigh at least 80 pounds more than Silco, and most of it seems to be centered in muscle.
Silco kept himself fit for all these years. The fact that his little pack sometimes had to decide between investment and food helped. He’s still as lithe, still as fit. He has never been muscular, not in the traditional way. His body seems to be carved of stone and hard ropes of tendons.
He will be likely faster than his opponent, though not as much, he might be more flexible, if it wasn’t for his age.
The one thing he has going for him is that he’s left handed.
However, it’s painfully obvious who has the advantages here.
“Good luck,” Silco’s corner girl says with a smile, “but I think you ain’t gonna win.”
Silco doesn’t think so either. But then again, he didn’t come here with a drive to win.
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if you've read this fic at all, then you know it's strictly silco/reader.
originally, it was written with vanco having been a thing in the past, and i removed that before posting, but every time I read it over after the fact it feels strange and unfinished.
so anyway, here's the original beginning that maybe explains why silco is characterized in the way that he is. it's largely the same so it's not the end of the world if you don't read this.
---
As a child growing up in less than ideal circumstances into a young man in downright abhorrent circumstances, Silco had accrued a fair amount of subtle-but-useful skills that served to keep him alive thus far. The things Silco had seen and done in his lifetime were numerous, stacking on top of one another to create the man that stood in the center of his bar and stared at the floor in a way that no one else seemed to understand - or even notice, if he were being honest.
It doesn’t catch his attention at first, if only because others just like it were ingrained into the very foundation of the building in ways that could never be removed. It’s not until the neon lights above catch it just right that it becomes clear the little droplets of blood trailing through the bar are fresh enough to still be tacky when the patrons walk over them.
Blood on the floor of The Last Drop, even fresh blood, is still not enough to catch his attention so thoroughly. It’s the way it meanders in a wobbling line from the front door to the bar, pausing long enough to leave more than a few in the same locale. They linger before beginning their trek once more to the side door that leads to the back rooms reserved for his trusted employees - not even those who worked in the bar frequented those rooms.
But Silco remembers them vividly, maybe too vividly. In another life, he’d walked this same trail before - sometimes alone, sometimes with another. A different man leaned on the bar to catch his breath and regain his balance, left a bloody fingerprint just on the edge of the bar in almost the exact same place. Stumbled on wobbling knees along the wall until he got to the doors that would take him to the very rear of the bar that held a secluded bathroom where he could manage his wounds in peace. Where no one would hear the sounds ripping through clenched teeth.
Colored curious, Silco follows that trail, uncaring of the stickiness that traps in the soles of his boots as he follows their footsteps to the letter. As his hand curls on the bar, thumb hovering over where the lost lamb’s mark lay, he can see flashes of a hand in the past, covered in fewer scars than it is now, its nails dirtier and its tendons stretching taut against skin that’s too thin to have eaten more than a single meal in days.
It’s a poor memory, one he no longer wishes to entertain, and his hand slides along the bar with more meat on his bones and a bit more backbone than he’d once had. More pride. That man is dead and gone, and in his place is one that clawed from the earth that had been thrown over his body to bury him. The grave wasn’t quite six feet, and the job had been done poorly.
There’s another thumb print on the handle of the door, smudged by Silco’s palm as he passes through the doorway and locks it firmly behind himself. No one would bother to cross this point, but there’s an old, ingrained habit inside of him that even after its owner is dead he cannot shake it.
In the distance, there’s the sound of running water rumbling through pipes that shouldn’t still work after so long. Silco no longer follows the trail when his legs know the exact number of footsteps it takes to get to the end of the narrow hallway - twenty-three - and how many doors to the left there are before reaching the bathroom he remembered so fondly - two. With his hand on the wall just out of sight from the occupant, Silco counts the seconds with his heartbeat.
Four seconds, and the light flickers. Twenty-five more seconds, and it flickers again. The same as his eyes remember, and he subconsciously times the blinking of his one good eye with the familiar beat of the lightbulb’s failing lifespan. It’s a wonder it still works, after all these years.
The sound of a grunt, and then a hiss as the sound of metal hits the floor. There’s a liminal feeling in the air, almost as if he’s dreaming - every sound is so familiar, every flicker of the bulb, every thud of the ancient pipes spitting water out. In the past, large hands would have braced on the tile with a laugh rather than a wince, as smaller, thinner ones picked and pulled and stitched and smoothed along tensed muscles. Lips would follow in their wake.
Silco often dreamed of the man that came before him, when he was young and a fool and something like love had been worn like a second skin, but never to this intensity.
Never this palpable.
A curse now, ground out between teeth before the sound of flesh hitting tile. Silco knows who this is, who is licking their wounds in the darkest corner of his bar, and the liminal feeling dissipates like he’s climbed from the river once more - less frantic, less violent. The ache in his chest is there, but its sharp edges have been ground down by the passing of time - but even a dull knife hurts when used with enough force, and tonight aims to kill.
Rounding the corner, Silco holds onto the doorway and watches as you stand beneath the running water and struggle with little grunts to reach over your shoulder at the gunshot wound that continues to weep in red rivulets even now. Again, you drop the knife in your hand and it rings sharp against the tile almost in time with your forehead thudding against the wall.
The form is smaller than who had used this room before - decades, maybe? Another detail lost to time that should be important but had been deemed unworthy. Like a phantom, rising from the grout, Silco sees broad shoulders overtop your smaller ones. Do you understand the weight you’re carrying at this moment, how heavy that ghost truly is?
Silco knows intimately - painfully - and doesn’t want you to shoulder it. Even he, the man who has seen it in the corner of his eyes and felt it in the moments where he’s blissfully alone, still isn’t used to how harsh it presses into his bones. Silco can hear it - the moment that thought passes through his head he hears the laughter and jeers of his counterpart on how harsh the lines of his body are.
Followed by the sensation of featherlight touches on the very parts of him that had been in suspect. Soothing subdermal wounds that had been caused by words, breaking him down and building him back up again in a vicious cycle that ended in the worst way of all. The thought of the circle beginning again makes his blood run cold, even in the humid air of the shower room.
You’re breathing heavily - great, heaving things that do nothing to help the stretch and relax of your injured shoulder. It’s a simple enough fix, if one has a second pair of hands. If not, the best way to remove it on your own is you brace your opposite elbow against the wall and lean against-
The thought is pushed away as soon as it comes. There’s no space for it here, not when Silco is watching the trail of crimson flowing along the line of your spine, the curves of your backside, down your legs to the drain and swirling amongst the rest. It’s beautiful in its own way, and Silco marks it as a boon to have been able to see it at least once, despite the connotations of it all.
Once upon a time, his fingers would have itched just as much to follow that path on muscles more defined, a body as familiar as his own. You're softer, smaller, more forgiving than the other. Silco finds that he prefers it far more.
#silco#silco x reader#vanco#please don't follow my blog expecting more vanco though i'm sorry#it just fit the vibe i'd created when i first wrote the original story#this is probably the only vanco i'll write
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Vanco headcanons (NSFW, pre-betrayal, mostly soft but some ominous)
Because I cannot get Vander and Silco out of my tiny mind...
My Vanco explicit-rated fic recommendations are sweet-sad Push and pull by Rimeko, hilarious-with-feelings comic Two DILFs locked in a lab by benni, Zaundads bdsm chemsex Night Business by spicedrobot, and slightly dubcon Work and Play by Miao93.
My headcanons:
- Silco really enjoys surrendering control during sex and is a born bottom. Vander enjoys having control and is a born top. They do sometimes switch it up, but usually this dynamic just works for them.
- Vander is fairly vanilla (mostly rough and enthusiastic for whatever gets him and his partner off), but he does like persuading a reluctant Silco to do something that turns out to leave Silco trembling with pleasure. Silco knows this and sometimes overplays reluctance or tiredness just so Vander can coax him past it and feel smug when he comes apart completely under Vander's attentions.
- Vander also likes messing his (in his opinion) always far-too-smartly-dressed partner up. He's a little turned on whenever Silco tries a disguise that involves dressing down, because he strongly associates dishevelled Silco with sexual satisfaction.
- Silco has far less experience of sex for mutual pleasure than Vander (quite possibly none pre-Vander). He honestly doesn't understand his own feelings at all, but he does know he likes it and therefore keeps turning up at The Last Drop like an alleycat in heat. He doesn't invite Vander into his own life/ crashpads much, mainly because they are deeply depressing. Vander's associates are aware of, and amused by, Vander's little boyfriend's obvious thirst for him whenever he shows up. (Except Benzo, who knows Silco a little better and thinks he should have been drowned at birth, to Vander's dismay).
- Vander sometimes hurts Silco by accident during sex. Silco would not, in a million years, let him know he had. This is partly because Silco has a genuine masochistic streak, but also because Silco doesn't want him to stop or feel he has to hold back even if it's really too much for Silco. Vander knows only that Silco can take it pretty rough (which is true).
- The popular Silco/chemsex fan headcanon is true, and he rather likes at least the buzz of an alcoholic drink for sex (though Vander disapproves and he does not insist). He likes the additional relaxation, the slight blurring of reality and being able to pretend that the world is a less harsh place than it is while he gets fucked. Post-Drowning it's possible Silco does hire someone to fuck him while he's absolutely out of his mind on something, this being the only way he could imagine enjoying sex again. It does not work.
- Silco really likes the warmth of Vander's body on a cold night, and having his neck very gently kissed up and down. Vander knows about the neck thing and deploys it at every opportunity. Silco has a private fantasy of Vander coming into his office unscheduled, at which point he'd send his henchpeople away, and Vander bending him back in the office chair and kissing his neck intensely, before making him completely Vander's. Silco never requests this, because he really does not want Vander to look around his office in detail.
- Most onlookers would say that Vander is very clearly the leader, with Silco always behind him in group situations, saying little. Vander considers himself in charge of the two of them. Silco does not resent this at all, but Vander is a component in his plans far more than vice versa.
- Vander tells Silco everything. Silco tells Vander everything that won't worry him. Vander carefully does not ask too much about what Silco is doing all day off somewhere else in Zaun, because Silco would tell him in all blue-eyed innocence, and it might be horrible.
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Vanco, prompt 74 :)
I’m so so sorry this took me forever to post. I actually wrote this all out awhile ago, but got stuck with writer’s block on it and blah blah yeah, anyway hahahaha so it’s not technically a finished story, and idk if I ever will finish it, but at least hopefully you can enjoy this small portion of it.
I needed to at least post what I had, before the guilt consumed me entirely.
Masquerade
Vander x Silco
Rating: Teen and up
Words: 1.9k
Summary: Silco and Vander have to pretend they are a couple at the council’s masquerade party. Story was based off the prompt: “You don’t need to feel sorry for this.”
"To what do I owe the pleasure," Vander wiped the bar down with a rag, looking at his uninvited guest. The thin angry man sat at the end of the bar covered in darkness. Even through the shadows, Vander knew at once who it was.
He grabbed a rocks glass and began filling it with Silco's drink, working on muscle memory alone. Vander slid it down the bar to Silco.
"I have a proposition for you," Silco grabbed the drink, rolling it around in his hand, the ice clinking against the sides.
"Is that so? What this time, a knife to my back?" Vander's eyes narrowed on his old friend.
"Isn't that lavish coming from you," Silco sipped on the drink.
Vander chuckled and poured himself a drink. Somehow he knew he was going to need it.
"Well, Silco, I'm here, and I'm all yours," he gestured to the empty bar. It was well past closing time, in the early morning hours.
'Believe me; this benefits us both. I have no ill will towards you. At least not today."
Vander leaned back against the bar, looking to Silco with an impatient glare.
"I need you to go to the council's masquerade party with me."
Vander could have raised his eyebrows through the roof had his face allowed it.
"And…why would I do that?"
"Because it's the key to everything. They're detailing the city's budget for the year, and we can finally get our answers to everything. We'll know what the enforcers are planning, what their new weapons are, everything."
"I mean, that's great and all, but why me? Why not the doctor? Or one of your goons?"
"Vander, please, this is serious. I need someone who can at least act with a modicum of class."
Silco thinks I'm classy; Vander had to laugh inside his head about that one. Vander stroked his beard in thought, trying to foresee how Silco could manipulate this into only benefiting himself. Somehow he'd screw over Vander and The Last Drop, he feared.
"No ulterior motives," Silco put his hands up as if to surrender. "You can use the information we glean how you choose once we get back, and I'll leave you alone if you leave me alone."
"Hmph," Vander half laughed. They'd always had a way of reading the other's mind. "Fine. Why not?" He sighed with the tiredness of a long day at work. Now coupled with seeing him, it was exhausting.
"I'll meet you here tomorrow, and we'll leave together." Silco finished his drink and, with a swoosh of his coat, disappeared back into the undercity.
Vander stood at the bar in shocked silence. What had he agreed to?
~~~~~~~
The upper city night air was so clean and crisp. Had it not been for all his layers, Vander was sure he'd feel a shiver coming on. He stopped to adjust his suit as they walked towards the event.
"What are you doing? You look fine, stop fidgeting, or you'll give us away." Silco snapped at him. He leaned on his cane to stop and glower at Vander.
"Listen, I'm doing you a favor here," Vander spat back. "Not all of us are used to wearing waistcoats and whatever the hell else you've adorned me with."
Silco rolled his eye and put on his half-animal mask of a fox. It covered the top portion of his face, hiding his distinguishing scar.
"Put your mask on, and walk with me arm in arm," Silco demanded.
Vander sighed but obeyed, tying on the half-wolf mask to his head, also covering the top of his face. Vander hooked his arm out and waited for Silco to grab it before they walked around the corner and arrived at the entrance of the party.
The soft sounds of music and voices carried out into the street. A butler in a tuxedo and plain black eye mask stood at the entrance greeting guests as they arrived and checking invites.
"Good evening, gentlemen," the butler held his white-gloved hand out for their invites, and Silco provided him with it from inside his jacket. He scanned it with a discriminating look but opened the door and welcomed them in.
The interior hall was dark. Their fancy dress shoes clicked against the reflective black and white checkered tile floor. They walked towards the sounds of the party, still arm in arm.
"Seems kinda dark for a party," Vander whispered down to Silco.
"The wealthy here are morons," Silco whispered back, and they both laughed. Vander was thankful for his mask, knowing damn well he was blushing, and for what, some stupid joke. Of course, it wasn't about the quip. It was about being near him again, having his arm nestled neatly against his own. It was being close enough to smell his cologne. The warm sweet spices and tobacco that used to drive Vander wild. He wondered if Silco remembered that. If he specifically wore it again because of him. Probably not. He was a man of habit and routine. That had to be the only reason he still wore that cologne.
They followed the sounds of muffled music and voices until they approached a giant set of doors and two butlers standing outside.
"Gentlemen," one of the butlers bowed his head to greet them, "Please enjoy yourselves."
The doors opened in for them, with a sonorous click and boom, revealing a grand ballroom light shining bright all around, reflecting all the gold-trimmed everything around them. Vander tried to keep his jaw from hitting the floor. Never had he seen so much wealth on display like this. A fraction of the wealth here could feed everyone in the undercity for months, probably years. And for what? A masquerade? He felt sick to his stomach.
"Act natural," Silco whispered.
"uhh, I. Is…" Vander stammered, staring around at all the opulent guests and ornamentations, "Is there a bar?"
Silco shook his head with a laugh, "Yes, of course."
The band played an uptempo song, and a few couples swung each other around on the dance floor. Vander stood in stunned silence while Silco ordered them drinks.
"Here," Silco shoved the drink in Vander's hand, "Will you please start acting natural now?"
"How can you be so comfortable here? You were raised… I mean, we were both raised with nothing," Vander spoke in low tones, careful not to let anyone hear them. Though no one seemed that interested in them, too focused on their worlds, it seemed.
"The benefit to never being comfortable, I suppose," Silco sipped his drink. "Anyway, it's called acting Vander. I had to learn to act if I wanted anyone to do anything for me after you…. after we…. What I mean is not everyone has natural charisma, bone-shattering fists, and rugged, handsome looks to fall back on."
"Aww, did you just call me handsome," Vander pressed Silco into himself with a half hug.
"Of course not," Silco put his arm up against the wall of Vander's torso and pushed himself back. "I only meant, some may say that of you, but I do not have the luxury of anyone excusing my behavior due to them finding me handsome."
Vander pulled Silco back into him, "Careful, we can't fake being a couple if you're pushing me away." Vander whispered in Silco's ear. Silco's posture remained rigid, but he didn't pull away. "And for what it's worth, you are handsome."
Silco scoffed and slammed down the rest of his drink.
"I'm getting another drink."
Vander sipped his drink, watching Silco walk back to the bar. He didn't expect to be having this much fun. How easy it was for them to talk and tease one another. Everything that had happened between them all seemed so rotten and poisonous. He'd forgotten the good parts.
Before he knew it, Silco was back at his side with a new drink. He set his cane against a decorative railing that flanked that large ballroom.
"How'd you find out about this party anyway?" Vander asked, scanning over the room again.
"Never mind that we need to see about infiltrating the finance meeting," Silco whispered.
"Ah yes, ignoring my questions, it really is just like the old days." Vander finished the rest of his drink and walked toward the bar.
"Will you stop being so dramatic," Silco hissed, grabbing Vander's arm to stop him.
Vander snapped his arm back, "Why can't you ever answer my questions? And I mean with full honesty. I don't even know what your end goal is here. How am I supposed to help?"
"My end goal," Silco pressed into Vander, "has been the same as it ever was. To free the sons and daughters of Zaun. You may have forgotten what the fight was about, but I never have. I never will."
Vander growled, wanting to raise his voice but dialing himself back. Oh yeah, it was all fun and games until it wasn't. The memories of their toxicity came flooding back. What was he thinking coming along for this?
Vander pointed a finger into Silco's chest, hissing under his breath, "You know I have never forgotten that. I fight to put food on the table for my kids every day-"
"Hors d'oeuvres for the gentlemen?" a calm voice interrupted them. Vander backed off Silco and looked over at the server carrying a tray of small foods.
Vander scooped it all up with his big hands.
"Thanks!" He shoved several bite-sized snacks into his mouth.
The waiter stammered in bewilderment before rushing off.
Silco shook his head, "you're only supposed to grab one."
"Well then, why were there so many?" he asked, mouth full of food. He swallowed before continuing, "So, how do we find this meeting anyway?"
"Don't look now, but there is a small congregation of folks filing into a room behind you."
Vander immediately turned to look, "Where?!"
"I said not to look now!!" Silco hissed.
"Will you calm down? No one even notices us here. Pilties are too obsessed with themselves to notice anyone else around them."
"Let's check it out," Silco said. Without waiting for Vander to respond, he grabbed his cane and walked in that direction. They cut through the dance floor, where couples twirled each other around on the shiny wooden floor.
A hand grabbed Silco's shoulder, and he turned, expecting to see Vander. Instead, it was a man with a lizard mask with bright orange and yellow scaling.
"Sorry, gentlemen, but once you enter the dance floor, you can't leave without doing at least one dance."
"Fine," Silco sighed and grabbed Vander's hand, now standing next to him.
Vander wrapped his arm around Silco's middle, and Silco reached his other hand up to Vander's shoulders. It felt like they were young again like everything was fresh, new, and exciting. They moved in rhythm to the music, Vander pulling Silco closer into his body.
"Vander, please," Silco huffed, "You don't need to be so territorial of me."
Vander loosened his grip, "Er, I'm sorry," he whispered back.
A pause while they danced, "You don't need to feel sorry," Silco moved his hands up Vander's back, "it's just, we aren't kids anymore. You don't need to protect me like you used to."
Vander stiffened in his posture, unsure now of his boundaries and motive. It had all seemed like some fun game before, albeit an odd one, but he had tried to go along with it as best he could. To save face, to, to save himself. He looked down at Silco, face half-covered by the ridiculous fox mask. Gold metal wires painted black in the area matching his scar.
He didn't mean it, his hand curling around Silco's middle. It was all too familiar territory while his mind wandered, and he contemplated his motives. Silco shuddered into him, wrapping his arms tighter around his midsection. Vander breathed in his scent, that cologne, mixed with his pheromones. It had been so long; he'd almost forgotten the notes of cardamon that pulled it all together.
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let me know what you think and maybe I’ll try to finish this out if anyone seems interested in it. thanks for reading! and thank you @alishatheninth for requesting something from me :D
#vander#silco#vanco#vilco#zaundads#masquerade ball#fake dating#flirting#bickering#grumpy old men#zaun#piltover#arcane lol#arcane fanfic#league of legends#wip stuff#vander x silco#silco x vander#lovers to enemies to questionable
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Hello again, hope life’s been good~
Anyway about Marcus’s daughter, I’m not sure if you remember but I’m sure a past comment brought up the idea that if Marcus was to die then his daughter (does she have a name??~) could be adopted by Silco (+Vander~) and be their 6th child, round out the 3 bio boys with dark hair and 3 adoptive girls with bright hair colours?~
It didn’t go any further than that but if Silco did adopt her (Idk how, maybe Marcus dies in front of her and Silco’s the only one there so she clings to her dad’s “friend” like a life line, and Silco’s just like ‘Ah shit’ cause now he can’t not adopt her~) what would that relationship with and the family be like, especially if she ever found out what her dad’s (Marcus) situation was actually like with Silco?~
(They wouldn’t be able to hide the whole ‘Eye of Zaun’ thing from her if she living with them, but that Marcus was Silco’s b*tch?~ Probably~)
Google to the rescue - her name's Ren.
I do wonder how easily Silco would be able to adopt her (as immediately bonded as he might be with her depending on the circumstances of her father's death). Only because she is the daughter of an important(ish) Piltite and Silco is still from (and living in) Zaun. You can definitively write it that Silco could (there's no other family around and Silco has the paperwork filed and signed off before anyone else starts to wonder what happened with Marcus' daughter?) but would it be that easy or would there be some pushback because we don't want her living down there in the filth of the Undercity. That's wondering off topic though.
There's obviously going to be a transition period because Ren goes from the only child to a (wealthish) Piltite to one of 6 to a (still wealthy) Zaunite. Like she's going from a house that is probably quiet most of the time with some staff doing the housework to the rowdiness of Vanco kids and being given (age appropriate) chores to help out with. Yes everyone in the family is at least trying to be welcoming to her and not overwhelm her but it's still a big adjustment. She would adjust but those first few days I can see being spent very wide-eyed on her part.
Finding out the actual relationship between Marcus and Silco would be a blow. And it's probably something she finds out quite late (being mostly told "they worked together" with no elaboration until finally one day someone goes "worked together? Ha! Silco told your original dad what to do and he had to do it, still don't know what Silco had on him to keep him that under his thumb").
She probably splits from the family and tries to do what her father had been trying - take Silco down. But, well, she's going to hit the same wall Marcus did there are enough people in the right positions who don't want Silco gone (because he's got blackmail on them, they see him as a necessary evil, or are now married to one of his kids). She's lucky that Silco can never hate his kids and he probably straight up tells her "you can hate me but I will always protect you". Which just makes the internal conflict worse.
#Arcane#Zaun Family#Ren Arcane#Marcus Arcane#Silco Arcane#Ramblings of the Goddess#Q and A with the Goddess#Anon question
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