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ace-of-zaun · 4 months

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It’s Because:

Silco x gn!reader - 1k words - SFW

cw: fluff, angst, pining, denial of feelings, falling in love, brief mentions of death, injury, and trauma, happy ending

summary: Silco is not in love. At least, that’s what he tells himself.

a/n: i’ve never written anything like this before, i hope it works!! (it really hurt to type as well but my physio told me i had to.) inspired by the song i’m not in love by 10cc

Silco is not in love.

Unequivocally, categorically not in love.

He doesn’t even know what love is when he meets you as a jaded, starving teenager, too busy trying to make ends meet to even think about something as trivial as love. But he does know that the easy way you smile when you meet his eyes makes his day just that little bit brighter.

He’s not in love when he spots you a few years later, standing quietly amongst the meagre crowd in the bar, listening to his rallying speech of change and independence. Although, the spark in your eyes as you watch him is like a match to the burning in his chest, and for once in his life, it makes him feel alive.

Silco isn’t in love when he accompanies you on mission after mission, learning to trust one another as he watches your back and you watch his in return, securing resources, and medicine, and meals for the starving children of his city. It’s just the adrenaline from the sprint back home, as you both narrowly escape the Enforcer’s clutches, that sets his heart racing to the dozen.

He can’t be in love when he watches you from across the bar, laughing, and singing, and dancing along to the jukebox, unaware of how effortlessly you light up the room. And so what if deep down he wants to join you and bathe in that light, soaking you in until you're his? It’s not like it means anything anyway.

There’s no such thing as love on his birthday when he refuses to tell anyone the significance of the day, instead scowling down at yet another shipping manifest. Except, when you hand him a cupcake and kiss his cheek as you walk through the bar on your way to the market, he hopes the red of his ears and the longing expression isn’t too noticeable.

Love isn’t present on the night you cry in his arms, heaving sobs that wrack your body as you mourn those lost in the fight, yet more casualties in this never ending fight for freedom. It’s simply the right thing to do when he lulls you to sleep, shushing your cries until your breathing slowly evens and your heart beats sync up with his.

Silco tells himself he isn’t in love when you sit side by side, legs dangling off the little bridge that crosses the river as he gifts you a starburst necklace that once was his mother’s. And it certainly doesn’t mean anything when you gaze up at him with the softest smile, intertwining your fingers with his while you gently rest your head on his shoulder.

He is not in love the day you stand with him in the little alcove across the street from the bar, sheltering from the rain that drips down to form galaxies of puddles along the square floor. You’re up on your tip-toes, his arm is around your waist, and when your nose bumps against his, his heart beats so loud he’s sure you can hear it-

But then his brother is suddenly there, pulling him away from you as he insists he goes for a walk with him, and Silco makes the worst decision of his life and agrees.

In thunder and rain, Silco knows that love ends in nothing but betrayal when he is forced to disappear, body pulsing with pain, mind in tatters. He’s hurting, and angry, and beyond scared. But weaved in between it all, he thinks of you and pictures the way you looked and felt beneath his fingertips, and thinks that maybe it’s not all bad.

There’s no time to think of love when, years later, he finally gets his revenge and reclaims his bar, his home; a second chance at raising the city his people deserve. Though, it’s almost like serendipity when he happens to take a break from arranging his schedule to look through the window down into the square, and there you are, standing in the middle of the street silently watching his workers carry in new furniture.

He isn’t in love when he runs down to you, nearly tripping down the stairs in his haste, pushing through the doors until you’re right there in front of him, the only place he truly feels safe. But when you don’t scream or slap him or curse him for leaving you, instead striding across the distance to throw your arms around him in a tight embrace, he forces himself to choke back his tears and allows yours to soak into his shoulder instead.

Silco continues to remind himself that he’s not in love in the coming months, while you sit beside him day after day, helping him put his plans into motion, listening to every word, every worry, every whisper. Really, who can even tell that his heart skips a beat when he spots that you’re still wearing his mother’s necklace, still so mirandous even after all this time?

He’s not in love the evening you sit atop the bar, laughing as you retell a story from your youth, caught delightfully off-guard when he can’t help but surge forward, capturing your lips while his hands cup your heated cheeks. It’s just one of those things, he supposes, to finally feel content standing between your legs, your own lips pressed in a smile against his, in a way that kick starts his once dead heart.

But now, nearly two decades after he’d first laid eyes on you as a naïve boy, he lays next to you in bed and watches you sleep peacefully, tangled in the sheets the same way you’ve weaved yourself into his heart. And in the quiet lull of the night, he runs his fingers over a shiny, jewelled ring, custom-forged to match his mother’s necklace that still rests around your neck.

He thinks of easy mornings and four-word questions, and for the first time in his life, allows himself to simply feel.

Maybe, just maybe, Silco is in love.

#silco x reader #silco x you #silco x gn!reader #silco x f!reader #silco x m!reader #silco #silco fic #silco arcane #one shot

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constantfragmentation · 3 months

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TWO MASKS

Okay kids. Here it is.

Regency Silco One-shot request by @popoisatan

TWO MASKS on AO3

Rating: Explicit

Silco/Reader Silco/You

Regency Silco AU

You are the daughter of a wealthy councilman. A bookworm and blue-stocking that isn't interested in marrying or interacting with the dull and pretentious people in Piltover society. Your father unable to marry you in the past two seasons, decides to throw a masquerade ball, looking for a husband for his only child.

The problem is, she meets a shadowy figure from the Underground and everything changes.

Here is a quick snippet:

A low chuckle emanated from the shadows and forced a little yelp from your throat as you lost your balance and gripped the stone to keep from falling over the edge. The moon's rays outlined a man leaning against the corner of the balcony.

He looked like the devil himself, draped in black from head to toe. Beneath the mask, one of his eyes glowed, and you wondered if he wasn't a demon sent to punish you for defying your father.

Pushing yourself back, forgetting about the dance card sticking out of the plant, the ribbons swaying in the breeze, you found your footing once more.

"Declare yourself, sir," your voice attempting some self-preservation.

The man smirked, striking a match to light a cigar. The embers flamed until he drew in the smoke, letting it billow in the hazy light. Long, slender fingers elegantly twirled the tobacco as your eyes followed the glowing tip until it raised to his mouth again.

Straightening your shoulders, your chin jutted in authority. You might not be the lady of the house, but it was still yours, and this man was a guest intruding on your privacy.

"I must ask you to leave, sir."

"Why? I was here first," he replied. "You leave."

The arrogance! You gestured him to the french doors.

"I came out here for some privacy if you don't mind."

"Ah, so did I," he remarked, a smile threatening to emerge. "And, I do mind."

#silco #silco & you #silco reader #silco one shot #silco fanfiction #regency silco

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linesfromzaun · 2 years

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Palms (Silco x Gen!Reader)

Rating: G

Tags: fluff, INNOCENT HAND COMPARING (u nasties 😤), cuddling, Smoking Silco, playing with Silco’s hands :’0)

A/N: I overworked myself today at work and needed some Silco fluff. Shout out to @purpurniymstitel for her post here, I haven’t stopped thinking about this because I need him spiritually, carnally, and physically, I am depraved 😔💔

“Darling, I’ve noticed something quite interesting,” Silco exhales the cigar smoke as he talks. You both are relaxing on the red sofa in his office, he sits upright, slightly reclined. You’re draped across his lap, looking up into the decorated rafters.

“And what’s that, hm?” You give an amused smile to match the tone of your voice. Silco holds his free hand up, fingers pointing to the ceiling.

“Place your hand against mine.” You feel a schoolgirl blush creep across your cheeks. You’ve known Silco for a while now, yet you’ve only recently become an item. You place your palm against his, and he lines his fingers up with yours. “I’ve noticed your hands are alarmingly small.”

“Alarmingly? What, like a bad thing?” You giggle as he playfully rolls his eyes.

“Not a bad thing, however I think it would be rather difficult to live with such small hands. How do you wield a dagger?” You huff in feigned annoyance and lace your fingers around his.

“Same as you, have you ever thought about the fact that you might just have really large hands? Your hands are double the size of mine.” You pull the hand that hold yours closer, and begin moving around his fingers lightly.

“Perhaps you just have very tiny hands. It seems to me my hands would be normal size for a man my height.” You give a sarcastic “mhm” and his laughter rumbles in his chest. You continue playing with his hand. Seeing how far they naturally spread out, placing his fingers in different positions. You try to sneak what it would look like if Silco gave the bird and his fingers stiffen. “Are you seriously trying to get me to flip someone off?”

“Just yourself.” You laugh at his blank expression and kiss his knuckles. He holds your fingers in the palm of his hand, swiping his thumb across the little knuckles. “Whatcha thinkin’ about?” His thumb caresses your skin once more. His lips lifting into a gentle smile.

“I should buy you a ring, your hands are very adorable.” Oh, he made you melt. He always had the sweetest things to say about you in the safety of privacy. “I’m thinking gold, a little blue or red gem. Simple, but with a statement.”

“Already trying to claim me as yours, I see.” Silco chuckles and his lips press against the skin of your fingers.

“Can’t have anyone getting ideas about you, now can I?” You laugh as he snubs out his cigar in the ash tray, and his now freed arm pulls you into him.

“I suppose not, oh how you woo me, Eye of Zaun.” A kiss on your lips has you humming, the taste of spiced tobacco has you dizzy in love.

“It’s a natural talent, something I pride myself in. Especially since I have you to call mine.” You’re pulled to rest against his chest, and he joins you in lying down on the couch. You both sigh as he pulls the blanket over you both. His hand previously holding yours cards in your hair, the other rubs soothingly along your back.

“I wish we could stay like this forever, just block out the world. Have it just be us and Jinx.” A chaste kiss is pressed to your temple and his nose rests against your skin, feeling his breath breeze against you.

“Me too, my dove, me too.”

#silco #arcane silco #silco my beloved #silco x reader #silco fanfic #silco x female reader #silco x y/n #silco one shot #arcane #silco x gender neutral reader #silco x male reader #silco fluff

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sivyera · 2 years

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Arcane characters as Disney couple.

ft. vi, jinx, ekko, silco, caitlyn, vander, sevika, cassandra, viktor, jayce

WARNINGS: bad grammar

CONTAINS: fluff

SONG: Rosyln - Bon Iver

photos are not mine

Jinx - Anna and Kristoff

You as Kristoff - Jinx as Anna Jinx is very hyperactive as Anna. She is also very funny and can fall in love easily. Jinx wants everything good for you and she will make you little surprise. She will make sure she's never out off line and that she give you all her time. Your relationship is like roller coaster. Once you are high which is unicorns and rainbows, but there is a fall and that comes when she needs your help. With her conditions like panic attacks, schizophrenia, PTSD, etc...

Ekko - Pocahontas and John Smith

You as Pocahontas - Ekko as John Smith You would die for each other. Protecting each other with your lives. Traveling around the world. Having very domestic relationship and fully trust each other. You're from Piltover and Ekko is from Zaun. You can only imagine how Piltover people are reacting on it but be honest, you don't care. You love Ekko most than anything and you don't care if he's from Piltover or Zaun. He does the same but sometimes he think that you deserve someone rich and someone with whom the relationship would not be life-threatening.

Vi - Mr. Incredible and Elastigirl

You as Elastigirl - Vi as Mr. Incredible Vi is very stubborn like Bob so she hate see you fight with someone. She just scared, she can't lose you. She can't live without you. But she is proud of you as well. She know that you're strong and you can protect yourself. But it become her instinct. When she hear you say 'ouch' she's next to you in a second. She is very protective. You're calmer and more reasonable in this relationship. Very powerful couple. She would do anything for you. And if someone wants to stole you away, she won't hesitate a second to beat the person up.

Viktor - Tarzan and Jane

You as Tarzan - Viktor as Jane I don't mean it like you are some wild animal or something, no, no. But Viktor is very smart just like Jane. Viktor likes learning new things but because of his sick leg he can't do sports or any other strenuous activities. So he appreciate when you describe him those things. Like running for example. He likes to see the world by your eyes. He loves reading you books and overall just talk to you about everything. He think you deserve someone better than him so reassure him that he's enough for you.

Caitlyn - Lady and Tramp

You as Tramp - Caitlyn as Lady I think we all can agree on that Cait is Lady. She is from rich family and from Piltover. Otherwise you just want to enjoy your life so you don't care where you are. You just want to explore every crevice. You can teach her how to make her life more exciting. You bring happiness in her life. She is very grateful to you for that. She would take you on fancy dinners and after dinner you would go watch fireworks. You also help her solve problems because you know probably everything and everyone in Piltover and Zaun. She often stare at you. She is just admiring you, let her stare in peace.

Jayce - Cinderella and prince Charming

You as Cinderella - Jayce as prince Charming You're his princess and no one can change his mind. All his life he wanted someone like you. You care for him so much. And he likes the feeling of warm you give him. When he's frustrated or sad he reach you, wrap his arms and don't let you go for hours. He would do anything for you. Lots of PDA. He loves the jealous mens/womans give him when they see that you are already taken. And he spoils you a lot.

Cassandra Kiramman - Mulan and Shang

You as Mulan - Cassandra as Shang She is more dominant in this relationship. But she never yell at you or makes you feel uncomfortable. You two are exactly like Yin and Yang. You are not meant to be perfect, you are meant to be whole. You complete each other even in simple things. You are both very strong womans. You also know everything about each other. Favourite tea/coffee, food, colour etc.. She can't imagine her life without you. You came to her life so randomly. She is not willing to give you to anyone else. You are hers and she is yours.

Silco - Belle and The Beast

You as Belle - Silco as the Beast/prince Adam Silco is king of Zaun. He have power and almost everything he ever wanted. Key word 'almost'. I feel like before he get into that fight with Vander he wanted someone who will complete him. He feels empty, he needs a charge to life. And the charge is you. You are the one who saved him, who make him feel like a person again. It's very hard to find a rose in Zaun so he always send Sevika or Jinx to bring him the reddest rose they can find in Piltover. He always leave the rose with little note when he have to leave before you wake up.

Sevika - Hercules and Meg

You as Meg - Sevika as Hercules You are more cunning and flexible than Sevika. Otherwise she is more stronger and tough. Still she have a huge soft spot for you. She maybe don't seem like it. She would kill for you without hesitation. She likes to show you off. She likes trying new drinks and food with you. She stare at people who are flirting with you or making you uncomfortable. After you go away she makes sure that the person wouldn't be able to move for a months. And when she is in bad mood, the people probably won't survive.

Vander - Snow white and The Prince

You as Snow white - Vander as The Prince we are not gonna talk about this huge age difference between these two

Vander is a huge guy so that means cuddles all the time. He likes picking you up on a princess style. You are so tiny compered to him so he calls you cutie. In his eyes everything you do is cute. He likes stroke you on your head. Every time when you are sad or insecure he kiss your whole body. From head to toes. And between each kiss he tells you how beautiful you are. Beautiful *kiss* perfect *kiss* amazing *kiss* cute *kiss* Relationship with him is like being wrapped in cotton candy.

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kikiiswashere · 2 years

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Hi! If you’re taking requests could I please request a oneshot for sleepy mornings with Silco? Thank you!

You bet! I hope you enjoy!!

Between Lightning and Thunder

Pairing: Silco/GN!Reader

Summary: Rainy season shuts down Zaun. You and Silco try to take advantage of the lazy mornings.

Warnings: SFW, None (technically one lil' mention of naughtiness, but its brief)

WC: 2.2K

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It wasn’t often that the Undercity was ground to a halt because of weather. When the atmosphere was already thick with toxic fumes things like precipitation and temperature didn’t often sway people from living their lives.

But this was . . . not typical.

Summer had suddenly concluded and the rainy season fell upon Zaun and Piltover in buckets and waves. Small hurricanes kept battering against the cities’ shorelines; the Pilt swelled up so high that the smallest wave crests licked the underside of the bridges; the streets of the lowest districts in Piltover transformed into babbling brooks and the deepest parts of the Sump filled with the onslaught of rain water.

The Storm of Our Time they were calling it . . .

A dramatic name for a dramatic time. But it wasn’t all bad . . . not as far as you were concerned.

The rain steadily beating against the bedroom window once again pulled you sweetly from sleep. It had been your wakeup call for the past three weeks since the first of the storms rolled in. The sound comforted you, though not nearly as much as the feeling of the warm chest under your cheek.

This was the reason you couldn’t be bothered to be too upset by the bombardment of inclement weather.

The basement of The Last Drop flooded in the first couple days of the rainy season. Then the streets outside did, prompting Silco to close the bar and have sandbags stacked around the establishment’s perimeter. All employees were sent out. Whether they went home, to a brothel, or to a drug den, Silco didn’t care. He just didn’t want them underfoot if there was nothing for them to do.

Singed’s lab flooded at the end of the first week. The damage was immense. Shimmer samples and shipments diluted beyond saving; other personal projects of Singed’s were ruined and washed away. The usually unflappable scientist was beside himself, and it had been the only time he demanded Silco to get out of his lab.

With no one to do business for or with, Silco’s tasks soon dried up. Which meant no need for late nights (all-nighters, really) or accidentally falling asleep in his desk chair or on his office couch. He actually came to bed. Which meant you actually got to wake up with him.

Your head slowly rose up and down to the tempo of Silco’s sleepy breathing. The soft percussive beat of his heart thumping against your cheek made your lips pull into a gooey smile. The arm you had slung over his torso flexed and you snuggled closer to his side. Like a wandering vine, your leg and ankle coiled further around his. Sharing a bed was so rare now, waking up before he did was even rarer, and you planned to enjoy every moment.

Rainy season could last for another three months for all you cared. The water could flood all the way up to your living quarters above The Drop, and even then you weren’t sure if it would bother you.

Silco shifted under your hold, a sleepy grumble rattling at the base of his throat. The arm he had wrapped around your waist slid up until his hand could curl around your shoulder and pulled you closer. Your smile widened enough to let your teeth graze against his sleepshirt and you made your own pleased, dreamy sound, nuzzling closer.

Lazily, you tilted your head to peer up at him through your lashes. His sea-green eye was closed, the ember-orange one was hidden behind the soft-shell eyepatch he wore for sleep . . . when he remembered it. His jet hair was a soft, tousled mess atop his head. Having no meetings, not venturing out of The Drop, meant Silco hadn’t felt a need to pomade his coif into its usual slicked back style. Absent of product, his hair was fluffy, waving and kinking like it had when you were both young revolutionaries. You hadn’t really realized how much you missed it until he let it dry naturally after the first shower he took once The Drop was closed down to wait out the storms.

Jinx was obsessed with it.

She touched it, ran her fingers through it any chance she could. When he read to her before bed, she had taken to sitting higher up in the crook of his arm so she could easily twirl the soft strands absent mindedly around her small fingers. You could hardly blame her. His hair was very soft, the twists and turns of his waves sliding satisfyingly around interested fingers.

It took a great amount of will power to not stretch your hand up and tangle it in Silco’s bedhead now. It was so very tempting. The only thing that stopped you was the lax, peaceful expression that sleep offered your partner. The long lines of his face were softened by rest, wrinkles less deep. Even the scarring on the left side seemed less severe at rest, despite not being covered up. It was so very rare for him to look so . . . peaceful. Even if he was pleased when awake, Silco’s face was always a little tight, perpetually set in expressions that commanded and set others on edge.

Much like the natural state of his hair, the softness of his face was familiar to you, too. Warmth bloomed inside of your chest. You wondered if he could feel it against his abdomen.

Gods, you adored him.

“Go back to sleep.”

The tired mumble broke you from your reverie. You blinked and went to lift your head. The movement was quickly thwarted by Silco placing a firm hand against your skull, holding your head to his chest.

“Sleep,” he repeated.

You snickered and muscled your way out of his grip, sliding up his chest into the crook of his neck. Your nose slotted into that delicious spot where Silco’s jaw hinged behind his ear and you took a deep breath in. He smelled sweet and deep; like sleep, Shimmer, and smoke.

“It’s morning,” you murmured into his neck before sucking a drowsy, open-mouthed kiss against his jugular.

He hummed and nestled his jaw against the crown of your head. “It’s still raining. There’s no need to get up right now.” Silco tilted his head enough to kiss your hairline, “Go back to sleep.”

“Hmph,” you huffed. “Says the man who won’t get a regular night’s rest even if I ask him.” You kissed the same spot, sucking a little harder this time. Silco gave a hissy grunt and his legs gently squirmed in the grip you had on him.

“Lovely, I’m here now,” he insisted. You didn’t need to look at him to know there was a small smile curling the corners of his mouth. “I know you don’t think it crosses my mind, but I do realize we don’t have the opportunity for many moments like this anymore. So, please, let’s just rest. Let me just have you here.”

You slid your body the rest of the way up so you could stare down at him. Silco’s good eye was open, the other remained covered. His expression was soft, much like the hand that was slowly grazing up and down your spine. Finally surrendering to the urge, your free hand carded over the longer locks on top of his head before sliding down to softly scratch through the shorter strands of his undercut. Silco’s eye fluttered shut and he groaned appreciatively, his head lulling and pressing into your hand.

You smirked. If Vander had been the Hound, Silco was the Feline. Not that you’d ever actually say such a thing out loud.

Your fingers wound to the back of Silco’s head and you dipped your head down to plant a kiss on his mouth. His lips had slightly parted during your ministrations, and your upper lip easily took up residence in the juncture. Silco groaned again – sounding much more like a purr now that your lips muffled his noises – and his left hand slid up to weave his fingers in your sleep-mussed hair while his right continued to run up and down your spine.

The kiss was deep, but not hungry nor heated. Lips slowly rolled together, tongue tips occasionally glancing over each other. A kiss for the sake of kissing with no other goal in mind. In so many ways so much more intimate and personal than Silco burying himself to the hilt inside of you.

Not that you minded that. Maybe later today . . . if you could busy Jinx with some menial task.

For now, this was perfect. You placed a final, firm peck against Silco’s scarred mouth before pulling away. Before he could grumble about your absence, you ran your nails through his hair again. Just like before, he hummed and his head followed your hand.

“I hope you know,” you said, “that I don’t say those things to nag you. I just worry. And I miss you. I miss this, too.”

The sea-green eye opened again, looking at you meaningfully. Silco firmed his palm against the back of your head and pulled you in for another kiss.

“I know,” he whispered as your lips parted.

You softly smiled and moved your fingers from the back of his head to sweep down the grooves on the left side of his face. Your thumb swept along the apple of his sharp cheekbone as you leaned in to kiss the corner of his mouth, where his scars met his upper lip.

“I love you,” you cooed, settling back down against Silco’s chest.

“I love you, too, my Lovely,” Silco replied, wriggling his body deeper into the bed and adjusting the hold he had on you. Your limbs were now so knotted together you weren’t entirely sure where you stopped and Silco began.

You loved it.

Silco’s chest puffed and a long yawn blew from his mouth. “Now let’s rest. We’ll get up when Jinx comes looking for us.”

Neither one of you fell fully back asleep. Silco’s fingers lazily swept up and down your back and arms, his blunt nails leaving tingly trails on your skin. Your hands gently massaged and rubbed loose circles across his chest and back. You both listened to the rain patter and pound against the bedroom window. Occasionally, thunder would rumble and lightening would crack. Inconsistent but easy conversations about nothing were mumbled between the two of you.

It had never rained so hard, but you were reminded of moments early in your relationship. Lazy mornings spent together, tangled on a cot, tucked underneath a ragged blanket, thoroughly wrapped up in each other. In the starts of the revolution, before Vander’s betrayal, when things were simpler, lighter. Although, it hadn’t seemed like it at the time.

Hindsight was 20/20, you supposed.

Never the matter. You had it again now. Except now your bed was spacious and the blankets were warm.

You hadn’t bothered to look at the time when you first woke, so you weren’t sure how long you and Silco simply laid there holding each other before the ‘morning’ insisted on starting.

The morning for the last three weeks, since the start of the torrential rainy season, had come in the form of a wriggly, blue-haired gremlin. Jinx either barreled into the bedroom or crept in. There was no in-between. Today you and Silco were bum-rushed by a small, blue cannon-ball.

Jinx hurled herself onto the bed, stuffed bunny tucked under her arm. Her loose hair was a tangled rat’s nest of clips and hair ties.

“MOR-NING!” she sang. “Up! Up! Time to get up!”

Jinx crawled over to Silco and lifted the eyepatch off his ember eye. “Siiiiilllcooooooo!”

You snorted into Silco’s chest

“We’ve talked about this, child,” Silco huffed. “Knock and wait to be invited in.”

“I’ve been up for hooourrsss!” Jinx exclaimed, flopping onto the pillow next to Silco’s head. As you anticipated, her hands wove their way into his hair. “I’m bored. Let’s get up and do things already.”

“Jinx,” you called from your spot on Silco’s chest, “do you know how to figure out the distance of lightning strikes?”

The girl peered down at you, eyes wide and fingers dancing through Silco’s hair. She shook her head.

“You count the number of seconds between a flash of lightning and the sound of thunder that follows it, and then divide that number by five.”

Jinx’s lips made a perfect ‘o’ and she shuffled to prop herself against the bed’s headboard, fingers never leaving Silco’s crown. Her gaze fixed to the bedroom window and she – you all – waited. Eventually, lightning flashed behind the glass and Jinx began counting under her breath.

“One Shimmer shipment, Two Shimmer shipments . . .”

Thunder clashed when she reached ten. Both your and Silco’s eyes tilted up to her, waiting. Jinx’s brow furrowed and her lips pursed in thought.

“Two! The lightning is two miles away!”

“Very good,” Silco said.

“Nice math, pumpkin,” you yawned.

Jinx beamed under the praise and watched the window again.

Before long, all three of you were softly counting the space between lightning and thunder together.

“One Shimmer shipment, two Shimmer shipments, three Shimmer shipments . . . “

Yes. The storms could keep rolling in as far as you were concerned.

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Notes: Thank you for reading! Be sure to brush your teeth after that fluff! If you enjoyed, please comment and reblog :)

And, yes, my asks are open <3 Take care you beautiful people!

#silco #silco x reader #silco arcane #arcane fanfic #silco fanfic #silco one shot #soft silco #arcane #jinx #good parent silco #soft fluffy mornings please #fluffy like silco's hair

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a-gal-with-taste · 2 years

Text

Bad Habits (NSFW)

Summary: There's a bar, not the Last Drop, that Silco visits infrequently. There's a reason he doesn't stop-by more often... and coincidently, that reason is also why he keeps finding his way back.

W/C: 3.6K

Warnings: NSFW|MDNI Background revolutionary-shenannigans, one-night-stand (multiple-times), first-meets, banter, pre-established relationship, strangers/friends-with-benefits, P in V, rough sex, fingering, oral (M & F), semi-public, some-angst, open-ended

The first time he came, he admittedly came out of spite.

Petty, childish spite, but the Children of Zaun earned their name for many reasons - primarily on the undeniable hope and passionate drive of the youth, but also because their juvenile-behavior could not be understated.

Silco didn't engage in acting-out often. Simply, he couldn't afford to.

And yet there he was: storming to a bar he didn't know, sitting next to a woman he certainly would've remembered meeting prior, and soon enough, ending up in a bed, in an apartment that he had no idea the address to.

From spite alone, a bad habit was formed.

"F-fuck, sweetheart," Gods, that voice could ruin a man, but Silco was already halfway there as he thrusted harsh enough for your next breath to border on a sob, hands twisting into the sheets beneath you. The fact that you were so forthcoming with unrestrained reaction to pleasure was a pleasant surprise... but then again, Silco had certainly not been expecting you, nor the trajectory of the evening's events, but it was a very pleasant surprise nonetheless.

A roguish grin creeped into place, in time with hands sliding up, from thighs to clamp calloused fingers down on hips. It's not difficult imagined the bruises left there would be quite a lasting-memory come morning... not to mention the rough-fucking he was also adding to your future state of limping.

Your face crumbled in pleasure, your hair wild on the pillow beneath you, and the way you moaned out your words, voice breaking with every roll of his hips, "N-next time..."

"Thinking ahead, sweetheart?" The borderline mockery doesn't dissuade you - in fact, the endearment only makes your hands flash out, gripping him tightly wherever you could reach in oder to hold him.

"Next time... y-your place?"

The question was quickly aligned in-time with a near-scream, your cunt tightening like a vice in time with your undoing. A clumsy collision of lips and teeth also coincide with his cock burying deep within you, and as a deep growl sounds with his quick-climax, one thought is on his mind.

He shouldn't, but Silco rather likes the sound of next time.

Next time, as it turned out, came quite soon.

"Looking for a distraction, sweetheart?" You taunted, breathless but that devilish coy still clear in your voice. "You...missed me that much?"

"Needed the distraction." His tone is just as much a tease as his hand is, fingers curling to press deep into your walls, thumb swiping fast enough to have your eyes rolling in your damn head. If not for his long-limbs caging you to the alleywall, your legs would likely have given out. "Don't lie - it's incredibly obvious you missed some parts of me as well."

"Fuck you." Venomless, not to mention the moan that's nearly dragged from you with a pointed curl of his fingers, makes it hard to take seriously.

In fact, Silco chuckles as your faux-glare melts in time with pointed-circling of his thumb. Your legs weak, you go from slumping against the chilled metal to reaching up with arms wounding around his shoulders, and nails digging through the fabric of his shirt.

Vander already had his suspicious last-time he returned, significantly more chipper then when he had stormed out.

This will only fuel the suspicions, and add kindling to the inescapable taunts and jeers, but Silco finds he doesn't quite care. In fact, he only drives his fingers deeper into you, thrusting faster while your ragged breathing warms his collarbone in short-pants, sprinkled with incoherent praise and pleas.

Then, in between a whimper and another curse, your hips roll in time with a quick, offhanded offering in the form of your name.

"Silco," He offers in kind, equating the level of respect, just as the first time, where names weren't necessarily a requirement.

This time, it feels like a necessity. Especially when his fingers press deep against the spot deep within you, causing you to whine out his name so sweetly.

Only the first time you'd be groaning out his name that night.

A Child of Zaun has several places to call home... or rather, the place one sleeps in and feels comfortable enough to lower their guard by a small increment.

They're dotted along the Lanes, some even along the Promenade and Alcoves, safehouses that, true to name, provide a level of protection for the Sons and Daughters of Zaun that for a moment, they can almost pretend it's actually a home.

Still, it's not typically a place to recieve visitors. That's mostly why Silco stops dead in his tracks, when he sees you huffing a cigarette as lean by the front-entrance of the building.

Alarm-bells in his mind start rising in their ringing, the moment you catch sight of him, and toss the still-lit cigarette aside to stride over towards him, determination and fury in every-step.

...he's prepared for the blow, not your hands coming up to either side of his face, and dragging him in for a kiss.

Eyes shoot wide open, but then they settle, and slip close the moment you nip at his bottom lip. Silco hums in surprise, but certainly not displeasure, as it deepens, your tongue growing eager in a wrestle with his the moment his lips part, the remnants of your smoke curling into his mouth...

You pop off just as quickly as you had latched on, a line of spit between the short proximity between holding, before snapping. "Are you busy?" You ask, breathless, and still fuming.

But since it's not necessarily directed at him, it's far more attractive than it should be. The way your eyes narrowed and sparked with rage, nails already curled and digging though his clothes as energy practically crackles from your form...

Hell, even if you were angry at him, Silco isn't sure if he'd be more terrified, or more attracted.

"Are you busy, Silco?" You ask again, and he blinks, slow, one brow already raised high on his forehead raising higher at such a question.

"Do... do you want me to be busy-?"

"I need you."

That shuts him up quickly, and he looks at you closer.

Rage, and annoyance - that's all your body language suggested, but none of it directed to him. He gazes deeper at you, searching for some sign of sadness, bitterness, heartbreak, even... "What happened?" Eyes sharpening, the Son of Zaun adds curtly, "If there's someone you need required to have a little chat..."

"The only one who requires anything is me, and I need you," Your hands tug deeper at the folded lapels of his shirt, white-knuckles stark on the red collar. "My day has been shit, and the only thing thats kept me from losing it, was the idea of you."

Blinking, Silco clarifies, perplexed, "Me?"

"You and me, Silco," You clarify, one hand sneaking down. Traveling over his chest, it presses enough on the fabric to feel the lean muscles beneath, causing a small, involuntary shudder to run through him under your touch. "I don't want to think about today. I don't want to talk about how shit my day was... I don't want that. I want to forget, and I want you."

Distraction.

That's what you're looking for, as you step closer, chest brushing against his as one hand drags up over his chest, and the other travels far, far lower.

Seems you are both far more alike than he gives you credit for. Had he not met you under similar pretenses?

There's a faltering in your eyes, and your palm settles a bit more hesitantly over your hips. That burning rage in your eyes is dying, cooling, and Silco is foolish enough to be sad to see it go. "If... if you're busy, I can just leave... sorry, I just-"

"There's no need, I have nothing planned," Assurance earns a flicker of surprise - as done the long-arm reaching to wrap around her waist. Pulling her flush to him, he breathed in the small gasp she gave at such an forward-movement. It was joined by an even smaller, longer exhale as he leaned close, long dark hair brushing her cheek as his words brushed hotly over her face.

"If you want to forget about your bad day... I can give you something far more sweeter to remember."

The hand traveling down, brushing lightly along his thighs in time with her wolfish grin, was more than enough of a 'yes' for him.

"That's it? Ya just gonna leave?"

"Yep."

Both brows shoot up over grey eyes at the deliberate, and unheard of pop at the end of his shirt-replay, and the disbelieving stare follows the fellow Son of Zaun all the way out the door, as does his words, "Where do you even go?"

Silco doesn't truly know - still hasn't taken a moment to read the address, or as the name of the bar. His feet automatically lead him there, lead him to slapping a two coins on the counter, and after downing it in a single swallow, his feet automatically lead him to the small booth in the back.

It's semi-blocked by the jukebox. And one side is already occupied, and the moment your eyes meet with his, just as tired, nearly as irate from your own ordeals of the day, it's clear that you both require some form of distraction.

And maybe you've missed each-other too.

But the desire for a distraction is far greater, and with that in mind, your eyes never leaving his, you slip under the table.

Your name slips out in a low murmur between thin lips, but not in a warning, but in quiet encouragement. You have your own form of encouragement, in the way of your fingers trailing from knees, tracing mindless shapes up his thighs, and a thumb flicks sharply against the button holding back already-straining pants.

Silco knows full-well he should've stayed at The Last Drop.

No, he and Vander were not likely to get further in the discussion, and the beginnings of a quarrel would've delved into a full-squabble sooner than later... but it was still a poor-decision to walk out, leaving without at least attempting to find some common ground.

He can't find himself too worked up over it, not as you work his cock from the confines of his pants. A low-hum rumbles from his chest as eager-fingers take him, stroking and exploring, soon with teeth biting harsh on the inside of his cheek as gathered-spit soon dribbles onto the head of his cock, followed by a tongue...

It's becoming habit. Perhaps a bad one.

Again, Silco finds he can't be too concerned by it, as your lips wrap around the head of his cock, and suck him in the back-corner of a bar he doesn't know, all for the sake of providing mutual distraction.

"You want to talk about it?"

A pause, then green-blue eyes gaze up at you, brows raised high enough for the unimpressed, and bemused glint in his eyes to catch the light, "You want me to focus on talking now?"

Your hips jerk as his breath washes over you, and fingers dig into the sheets beneath as he takes the moment to flick his tongue out, barely brushing against your folds.

"... n-not really." There's a 'but' left unspoken in that shaky sentence, but when you don't elaborate in the moment of silence he offers - and instead raise your hips in an invitation - Silco takes the initiate to forgo words for a moment, and use his mouth for another purpose.

You don't seem to mind though, as his mouth sloppily closes over you with the intent to devour, tongue quick to find the bundle of nerves that already causes your thighs to quake around his head, "Fuck, Silco-"

Your name, still new on your lips, only encourages him more. Closing around your clit, his lips sucking with fingers making quick use of filling you as his tongue swirls.

The repeated matra, prayer of his name doesnt take long to evolve into a near wail as his fingers press and thrust deeper and deeper, eyes slipping shut as he relently works you through the harsh orgasm he all but pulls from you.

Panting is harsh on both ends by the time his mouth pops off - your small wince earning a breathless chuckle before he wipes across his mouth with a forearm, lapping up whatever remnants are closest to his mouth. Eyes-hooded, you stare up at the ceiling, long after your chest rises and falls with a smoother rhythm, and even longer after he settles beside you.

Then, quietly, "Does it help?"

Silco thinks for only a moment, and answers with a question of his own. "Does it help you?"

"Yes, it..." You pause, then shrug, albeit weakly as strength hasn't made a full-revival. "You know how it can be sometimes, out-there... life's shit. Gonna find something that makes it a little less-so... or at least help you forget about it for a minute."

Humming understandingly, seagreen eyes flicker over the dark ceiling ahead, streaked by cracks in the curtains from the neon-lighting outside, a florescent aurora that can only be found in the Underground.

"... it does help. A bit," His eyes flicker to the side, catching you watching the same thing. There's a fondness in your eyes, one he knows you both must share - the Undercity has it's own form of beauty. It's often modified, twisted, perhaps even made in mockery of the natural-wonders of the world above, but it's uniquely Zaun.

It helps, not just to be with you, but to know you hold that same admiration.

"... we could keep helping each other." The offer is made with a brush of fingers against yours. You don't lull away, and so Silco chances to curl and entwine those same fingers around your own. "Perhaps a little less physically-" "A little less?"

The smile can't resist curling at the corners of his lips, along with his eyeroll. "Perhaps not a little... but a bit more frequently. Steady, if you will."

There's silent, save for soft, gentle breathing that's slowly beginning to warm him as much as your fingers holding onto his do.

And then, those fingers slip away.

"We're already making this into a series of bad-habits," You murmur as you sit up, knees shaky, but managing to turn and look at him... or, not exactly. You won't directly meet his gaze, as you say with confidence he can't quite believe, "I don't know... how we could make something permanent out of a bad-habit."

"Can't know if we refuse to try." It's not desperate, but it isn't an immediate surrender. He doesn't quite know why it isn't. You're correct, for the large part. You had both met with a need, not necessarily for one-another, but for what you could offer each other. Distraction, respite, pleasure...

It's selfish, and maybe it's even irresponsible, to want more of it.

And you voice as much, even as you lean closer, lips brushing against his cheek with a quiet murmur, "Habits aren't meant to last, sweetheart."

Correct as you are, that doesn't stop the roll of bitterness in his gut as you pull away, and start reaching for clothes, scattered, ripped or even partially ruined, around his bedroom.

And because you are correct, Silco doesn't stop you from quietly leaving.

Out of repeated habit, he stops by the bar again, the next time a breather is needed.

When the weight of levels above him, and below, feel like crushing him to pulp in-between, he goes to that same bar, and isn't surprised to find you not there. Silco isn't foolish enough to chance going to knock at your door, not when a boundary as clear as this has been established... not to mention, like an idiot worthy of being a part of the Children of Zaun, he never figured out that damn address.

Still, he finally figured out the name of the bar he infrequently visited, and upon hearing it's title, he had to laugh:

Distraction.

Again, Zaun held it's own form of beauty, often in shapes made of mockery - apparently, the universe is having quite a laugh over his situation. And it is, somewhat comical - to press for more, when he had been seeking the bare-minimum in the first place, sounds like the beginnings of a joke upon which Silco himself would laugh about, in the face of anothers misfortune.

But he doesn't laugh much after that. Can't seem to find it in him... for even as he tries, and largely fails to purge the thoughts of you from mind, that doesn't stop the rest of his problems from clouding any other free-space left in his head.

And it's not comical.

Not even bitterly so.

It's not comical in the slightest, how quickly the turn starts, and by the time it's being acknowledged, Silco knows there's no potential to even attempt to swerve back around.

The Children of Zaun are on a one-way track, and the only thing ahead, as more are arrested, killed or missing, is failure.

Failure is not an option. Failure has never been an option, not for the future of the Nation, and distraction quickly takes the farthest-backseat in his mind, as the only thing that matters is realigning the movement back to the path to success...

Until, one day, it doesn't.

Until one terrible, rainy day, when blood and river-water cling to him despite the drizzle, distraction suddenly becomes the only thing Silco wholly, desperately needs.

Because it's all he has left.

The bartenders eyebrows shoot up, and is already-pushing napkins aplenty to him the moment he stumbles in. Throat ironically too dry - and far, far too damaged - to thank her, he manages a curt nod before turning.

How he makes it to the table, is an unknown miracle. Almost collapsing the moment he is seated, exhaustion saps at what remains of his strength, but for the first time, paranoia is not the forefront of his mind.

For all the pestering and curious questioning the man who used to be his Brother asked, Silco never offered an explanation, nor even a general location. This was a safe-spot, one Vander had no knowledge of, and one that no-one who knew him would expect to find him here...

"Silco?"

Save for you.

You have this neat trick, of making almost anything sound good... even a horrified whisper of his name, from your lips, almost sounds sweet.

A smile touches his face as you let out an utterly vile swear, before crossing from the front of the establishment to his side. The moment your hand touch his face, he jerks, but quickly leans into it, exhaustion and need winning out over any recent behaviors that could be seen in wounded animals, or betrayed men.

"Hey, sweetheart," His voice is slurred, making your eyes widen, before your shuffling out of the raincoat fast enough that his vision - whatever's left of it - blurs. "Miss me?"

"Holy shit... did you not go to a doctor?"

"No. No, I did not," Humming when your coat comes over his shoulders - not a perfect fit, but the faint traces of perfume are a better comfort - Silco allows his head to be tilted for you to see the full-extent of the damage.

It's bad. He knows it is, and judging by how pale, and slightly green you get, you know it's bad as well.

"Needed a... bit of a distraction. H-hoping you could provide?"

"Idiot," You say, half-reflexively, arm coming around to tug at his shoulders, and out of the booth. "You... not even a medic, but instead you came running to me?"

"Crawled part of the way, if I'm honest." He had been running for a very, very long time.

"Shut up, I can't believe you..."

Guiding the way out of the bar - Silco blinks his remaining eye, and they're already nearing the residence area, familiar enough that he can start considering himself safe again. The deposed Son of Zaun leans against you, but you seem to take his weight in stride, cursing his name all the way in short, panicked tones.

Everything is hell.

His brain seems to have halted its process of delivering stabs of pain - perhaps too horrified, or too tired to truly react to the amount of agony that has become one half of his face.

Thoughts of... what happened at the river, have also gone quiet. Again, maybe that's a final defense of his mind, to shield him, even temporarily, of what occurred in those toxic waters before they drive him to madness. Driving him into insanity with both pain, and memories.

"Silco?"

... it's not all in his head though. It's you, as well. When he blinks, there's you, leaning over him with a rag wet with blood and water, concern in your voice as you lean over him on the couch.

"You'll be okay," You promise, in a quiet whisper. "You'll... I'll make sure you are okay."

"Keep talking."

Your brows furrow, and you go to object, but feeling the darkness closing in on the remains of his vision, long fingers reach up, loosely and weakly grasping at your wrist. You jerk from the fever of his skin, but Silco holds on - holds on to all he has left, and yet still pleads for more, "Keep talking."

"O-okay... okay," Another task to sooth your own thoughts, keep you busy from what Silco can only assume was the farthest from what you had expected to be doing day - tending to the toxic, scarring wounds of an infrequent sex-partner.

"Have... have I ever told you where I work? It's a level-up the Lanes, but based on the attitudes there, you... heh, you'd never know the difference..." It steadies you, talking. And as your hands, gentle and growing more confident as you work on cleaning the blood from his face, Silco finds the distraction helps him too...

To the sound of your voice, and the warmth of your presence, it's almost a welcome to fall deep, deep into darkness with you at his side.

[Taglist: @sweatandwoe @lackofhonor @betasuppe @ironandglass @soullessbody @syx-00 @bb-8 @bloodmoon-bites @zillahvathek @my-awakened-ghost @agoutighost @shuttlelauncher81 @stabmemaybe @rosmariner @intpthinkinginquiet @atalldrinkofcaprisun @ladykatakuri @littledollll @of-the-argonath @mazikomo @dropssofjupitter @boredanimatr @gooseberries88 @yes-these-obsessions-are-healthy @cat-shapedgoo @watercolourdreamer @meimayooo @constant-fragmentation @masterjedilenaaa @callistotml @foppishish @dad-dumpster @nyx2021 @beef-bakery @jennithejester @the-lake-is-calling @ariaud ]

#silco x reader #arcane silco #silco #arcane fanfic #fanfic #mdni #18+#silco smut #writing #fanfiction #one shot #young silco #female reader

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silcoitus · 5 months

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Thank you for 1,000 followers! <3

(Dang, y'all work quick. I posted that teaser and immediately got 3 more followers, just pushing me over the finish line! Thank you!)

As promised, I bring you some Silco/reader smut in the form of soft Silco and virgin reader. I cannot believe I have hit this milestone and I am thankful for every single one of y'all. I'm so glad that I took that leap last year, sharing my writing online for the first time ever.

Practice & Patience

Rating: Explicit—Minors DNI

Silco x f!reader, Smut, virgin!reader, first time, vaginal fingering, mirror sex, soft silco, ending left open for a possible part two!

Word count: 5.5k

You admit to Silco that he's your first. He responds just as well as you could have ever hoped he could.

Read on AO3

A/N: There's certainly room for more to this! Plenty that reader hasn't done yet. Let me know if you'd be interested in more!

I wrote a part 2!

Taglist: @averagecrastinator @mazikomo @writingmysanity @insult-2-injury @ariaud @jennrosefx @ins0mniac-whack @steponmesilco @sherwood-forests @leave-me-alone-silco @givemebeansnow @aeryntheofficial @dreamyonahill @lostbunn @eurydicethesage @thepineapplesimp @whatisafandom @violet-19999 @juicboxd @sageandberries-png @delta-is-here @beardedladyqueen @mutedwordz @fly-like-egyptian-musk @jennithejester @mrsdelirium @witheringblooddemon

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#silcoitus #silcoitus writing #silco fanfic #silco x you #silco #silco x reader #arcane silco #silco smut #silco simp #silco one-shot

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ace-of-zaun · 6 months

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Don't Go (One-shot):

young!silco x gn!reader - 3.6k words - SFW

cw: angst, fluff, breakup conversations, happy ending, reconciliation, arguments, silco struggling with his emotions, little bit possessive, soft silco, suggestive ending (this one is pretty angsty but don’t worry, it all works out in the end!)

summary: Silco, your long time boyfriend, does something you’d begged him not to, so you regretfully decide that you need a break from him. Silco has other plans.

You didn't want to go. Not really.

But after Vander’s revelation, you felt like you had no choice.

Silco had been all fired up the night before, ranting and raving about his latest (and quite frankly terrible) plan of breaking into the Sheriff’s office Topside to gain information about any upcoming raids in your neighbourhood.

The surprise Enforcer raids had been hitting businesses across Zaun at random, an M.O of storming in and ransacking each place with no clear means or motive, and definitely without any warning.

Understandably then, Vander, Silco, and you had been particularly concerned that a raid would hit The Last Drop any day now, and despite every effort to hide anything that could give you away, there was a real fear that your revolutionary group would be discovered and brutally dismantled.

But the idea of breaking into the Sheriff’s office of all places was beyond dangerous and to your frustration, you just couldn’t get Silco to listen to reason.

You’d pleaded with him not to do something so risky. You’d tried to calm down, told him to just wait until you could all discuss it together as a group and come up with a plan that wasn’t so grandiose, and in your view, completely and utterly stupid.

Eventually, Silco had gotten frustrated and rolled his eyes, grumbling that he wouldn’t go as he’d slunk off downstairs to no doubt drink the night away in the bar.

This morning you’d woken with him fast asleep by the side of you in bed and, assuming he’d wasted the evening drinking himself dry, you thought nothing of it until later this afternoon when you’d found out the truth from Vander.

Silco had gone Topside to scout out the building that housed the Sheriff’s office.

Vander had desperately tried to reassure you that Silco wouldn’t have done anything stupid but it had done absolutely nothing to douse the flames of anger and hurt spreading through you.

The damage was done.

Now, salty tears finally drying on your cheeks, you stand in your shared bedroom packing your belongings into the rucksack laid out on your bed.

Silco is still out running errands so there's a note placed carefully on the desk in your bedroom. It's not ideal, but it's for the best.

However cowardly it makes you feel to reduce your breakup to a measly note, you're too emotionally drained to even think about having another argument with him.

You just can’t deal with it right now.

Planning to stay with a friend until you found somewhere you could afford by yourself, you convince yourself that if he truly wants you back, if he truly wants to fix things, he’ll come and find you.

You’ve already packed the easy things, like most of your clothes and your toiletries from the bathroom. The real challenge now it would seem is the more sentimental items, like the pile of gifts currently lined up on the bed that you’d received from Silco over the years.

The little toy poro he'd scrimped and saved to buy you for your birthday that one year. Or the matching sunglasses he'd stolen as a little souvenir from your third date.

As you stare down at the gifts on the bed wondering if you’ll have enough room to bring them all, the door opens behind you.

You freeze, knowing exactly who it is before he’s even spoken.

"There you are," Silco announces, his voice clearly tired but still laced with a hint of relief. "Vander said you were-"

He cuts himself off as he undoubtedly takes in the state of the bedroom before speaking again in a tone of pure shock.

"What are you doing?"

You can’t bring yourself to answer so instead busy yourself with shoving all of the gifts into your bag before he can see them.

"No," he breathes out from the doorway as it dawns on him.

It sends a horrible pang of hurt ringing in your chest, only made worse when he pleadingly says your name.

"Please don't do this."

"I have to, Silco," you sigh, trying to keep your heart as closed off as you can. It hurts enough as it is without you letting your emotions run wild.

"You don't,” he says. “You don't have to."

You stop answering because you can tell this particular line of conversation will just go in circles.

Behind you, he shuts the door with a click and it irritates you into shoving more into the bag, no longer caring about being neat or if you should leave anything behind.

"Is this because of what happened last week? I already told you that wasn't my fault," Silco continues when you don’t respond or turn to face him.

He's referring to the incident where he almost got shot after taunting some enforcers for no good reason.

Truth be told, that incident had absolutely terrified you, but it was just one of the many reasons why you couldn’t keep doing this.

"No, it isn't because of that," you say flatly.

"Then why?"

You finally turn to look at him, the first time since he’d left the bar this morning. (He looks gorgeous and like he's on the verge of heartbreak and you hate that you still love him despite it all.)

"Where did you go last night?" you ask flatly, looking him square in the eyes.

As expected his expression instantly turns stony, but after years of learning and reading his tells, you can see the twitches of regret in his eyes.

A few beats of silence pass and you know he’s too stubborn to admit it out loud.

Your response is quiet. Resigned.

"That's why."

Turning back round to face the bed, you begin to shove down all your belongings as far down into the bag as they can go, making sure you have enough room for the last bits that you know are in the wardrobe.

"Look, I'm sorry for doing it behind your back, but I had to go," he starts, and it feels like the beginning of the heated argument that you were so desperately hoping to avoid.

Your cool facade broken, you whirl round to face him straight on, built-up ire finally pouring out of you in reams.

"No, you didn't have to go! You went because you wanted to and you went even though I asked you- no, begged you not to," you yell at him.

He flinches minutely at the sudden raise in volume, but keeps his own voice calm and steady when he crafts his response.

"You don't understand, this is important," he emphasises. "They cannot find out what we’re doing to fight against them, not when we’re this close to finally having the lives we deserve, that all of us deserve.”

It takes all your strength not to give in to his words and continue the argument with an incredulous scoff.

As if you don’t know all that. As if you didn’t spend your days fighting for Zaun as well.

As if you didn’t fight every second for him.

You shut it down immediately, twisting back round to face the bed.

"I'm not doing this," you say blankly.

"What?" he replies, clearly stunned.

"I'm not arguing with you, Silco. I'm leaving."

It breaks your heart to say it, but in this moment, you see no other way forward. Not if he’s going to keep on like this.

Silco says nothing as you pack away the rest of your belongings into your bag, briefly recalling that you still have a few last bits in the wardrobe. You're almost certain that his anger is charging up in the silence, readying himself to launch into a whole speech about how wrong you are.

But when he does speak again, the sound of his choked-up voice feels like a shot directly to your heart.

"You can't leave."

Your heart sinks into your stomach and everything within you practically screams to cross the room and hug him, but you know that if you even look at him you’ll end up changing your mind. So, you move over to the wardrobe instead and pull open the doors to ensure he’s not in your line of sight.

Silco says your name in that horribly soft timbre he only uses when he’s desperate and even though it pretty much tears you apart to ignore him, you focus on pulling the rest of your clothes from the closet.

He speaks your name again, this time even more desperately and you suddenly find yourself biting back tears.

Fuck, why did he have to come home early? Why couldn't you just have some time to grieve by yourself?

"Silco, it's over," you bite out, just wanting this horrible situation to be done with so you can work on healing.

Finally moving into the room, you hear his footsteps creak on the old wooden floorboards behind you.

You brace yourself for him to take your hand or wrap his arms around you but to your confusion, his footsteps halt in the centre of the room and you hear an unexpected rustling sound instead.

Spinning around, you find Silco holding your backpack upside down in the air, emptying the contents back onto the bed with vigorous shakes. Your belongings drop onto the sheets in a crumpled mess, undoing all your work to get them all into the rucksack.

Silco glares at the bag with tight-lipped hatred, as if it’s the reason you’re leaving, the longer strands of his hair falling down and bouncing with each rough movement of his arms.

You stare at him in disbelief, your jaw slack until you find the words to confront him.

"What the fuck, Silco? Put them back!"

He grips the bag even tighter.

"No."

And just like that, your astonishment slides into anger.

"Silco," you warn, eyes narrowing dangerously. "Put. Them. Back."

"Not if it means you'll stay," he replies obstinately.

He continues to shake the bag but, ever the impatient boy, gets too frustrated and decides to drop the bag onto the bed. Rapidly taking out handfuls of your belongings until the backpack is empty, he then throws it at the wall furthest from you with a grunt.

Silco’s gaze slides to look at you from across the room and you both stare at each other breathlessly, chests borderline heaving.

A clear challenge.

Unfortunately for Silco, you can be stubborn too.

Without another word, you reach into the wardrobe and pull out his backpack, moving over to the other side of the bed to restart your packing.

This time, Silco rushes around the bed to you and tries to grab your hand, but you pull it away, taking a step back.

"Just stop-"

"Please don't leave me," he pleads in the most heartbreaking, riven timbre you’ve ever heard him speak in and your heart wrenches.

He sounds like the little boy you’d met all that time ago in those dark mines, the one who was so desperate to no longer be alone.

"I'll do anything, I can't do this without you," he begs.

"Do what without me?"

"Any of it," he blurts out, running a distressed hand through his hair. "Some days, the only thing that gets me through the day is knowing that you'll be here when I get home."

Your insides jolt at such a vulnerable confession from such a headstrong man, but it’s nothing compared to the feeling you get when he suddenly drops to one knee in front of you, taking one of your hands in both of his.

Heart racing ten to the dozen, you watch in horror as he glances up at you.

He’d better not be doing what you think he’s doing…

"Silco-"

"I love you," he says. "I love you more than anything in the world."

You watch as tears line his lashes and soon find yourself matching.

Fuck, you were expecting yelling and anger, not this.

You’ve never seen him like this before.

"Please," he repeats and it cracks your mask in two.

Your knees give out and you let yourself sink down onto the floor with him.

Silco immediately throws his arms around you, only just stopping you from falling back with how quickly he presses his body against yours, burying his head in the crook of your neck.

On instinct, you wrap your arms around his frame, one hand rubbing his back whilst the other cards through his inky strands as he rocks you gently from side to side.

Little whispers of “Don't go,” and “I need you,” are mumbled into your hair, and you’re almost certain the wetness on your neck is from those tears that had been threatening to break free. You kindly decide not to mention it.

Eventually, you sigh and rest your forehead on his shoulder, squeezing your eyes shut in a pitiful attempt to ease the difficult conversation up ahead.

"Sil, I can't keep doing this."

He sniffles a little and pulls back to look at you but doesn’t let go. (He never lets go.)

"Doing what?" he asks, brows furrowing in that cute little way he does when he’s confused about something.

"Watching you destroy yourself."

"I'm not-"

"You are, Silco, and it's hurting me," you enunciate, holding his cheeks to force his gaze on you. He needs to understand how serious you are about this.

The horrified expression on his face instinctively causes you to brush some of his hair back tenderly while he processes your words.

"I want a better Zaun too, but not at the cost of you sacrificing yourself," you continue, keeping your voice quiet but firm.

He’s clearly overwhelmed, seafoam eyes so wide and trenched in deep-rooted panic. But with a lack of response to distract you, you’re forced to take notice of the pain spreading through your back and legs at the awkward sitting position you’re in.

You shift your body, pulling away from him to situate yourself in a comfier position, but the second you loosen your arms from his thin frame, his hand desperately grip you even tighter, clutching onto you like a child to their mother’s leg.

"No, I-"

"I'm not going anywhere, I just need to move before my legs go numb," you’re quick to reassure him.

At this, Silco relaxes slightly, allowing you to move so your back is resting against the side of the bed. His fingers clasp onto your shirt the entire time and the very second you’re planted in a spot that doesn’t completely ruin your spine, he pulls you against him once more.

"What- What can I do to make you stay?" he says between a harsh swallow.

You sigh, swiping a hand across your face tiredly.

"I need you to stop this ridiculous crusade you're on. Or," you add when he goes to protest, "at the very least, include the rest of us in it."

He bites the inside of his lip and entwines his fingers with yours.

"You can't keep making reckless decisions by yourself, Sil. It affects all of us. Especially me."

Silco keeps quiet for a few moments, so you give him time to think while his thumb rhythmically traces your knuckles back and forth.

This can’t be easy for him. He’s pretty independent by nature (most Undercity kids are), but Silco is especially so when it comes to the fight for Zaun’s freedom.

But if he wants you to stay, you’re going to need some compromise.

"Okay," he eventually says, breaking the silence to gaze at you with muted hope.

You’re not letting him off that easily.

"Okay what?" you say expectantly.

He sighs and suddenly he’s transformed into that petulant little boy again.

"Okay, I'll run things by you and Vander before making any big decisions," Silco heaves, like it physically pains him to say.

"And?" you prompt with a raised eyebrow.

Silco stares at you with a look of disbelief, but his lip is curled in clear disgust.

"There's no way I'm running anything by Benzo," he scoffs. "It'd be more useful talking to a brick wall."

You slap his arm half heartedly and bite back a laugh.

"No! I meant, are you going to stop throwing yourself into stupid situations for no reason?"

"I knew you were still upset about last week," Silco replies, a knowing expression melting across his features.

"Of course I'm upset about it! They almost shot you!" you fire back with indignation.

As if you wouldn’t be horrified at the idea of your boyfriend getting seriously hurt and potentially arrested just for being an idiot.

Silco gently combs his fingers through your hair, eyes tracing your features as that smug little smirk you secretly adore colours his lips.

"The key word in that sentence is almost, my lovely."

The glare you level him with is met by a crooked grin, but it’s soon wiped off his face when you jab his stomach with your elbow, ignoring the “Oof,” in favour of cuddling up to him even closer.

Silco lets out a sigh of relief and rests his head against yours whilst one hand sneaks up behind you to surreptitiously wipe his eyes dry with his sleeve.

You allow yourself to relax for a few quiet moments, slowly calming each other down with soft touches until your breathing syncs up with the boy holding you close to his chest.

Silco soon murmurs into your hair, hand smoothing along your waist.

"So you'll stay?"

"Yes, I'll stay," you reply softly, nestling into the crook of his neck.

It’s seemingly not enough to soothe his nerves because he leans back and tilts your chin up with one finger until you meet his anxious gaze.

"You promise?"

"I promise, Silco."

Relief melts through his whole body, but with it brings a cool wash of physical and emotional exhaustion that you wish you could wipe clean.

"You know you can always talk to me, right?” you tell him gently, pinky finger delicately tracing along one eyebrow until the lines of his face relax. “I know you're always so busy trying to keep us afloat but you don't have to do it all alone. You can tell me when things are bothering you, it doesn’t make you weak or ‘less of a man’."

He gazes at you in profound wonder before lightly cupping one side of your face with his hand.

"I really do love you," he whispers, tenderly tracing one thumb down your cheek.

It feels like the weight of your near-breakup is lifted off your shoulders when you finally say it back.

"I love you too, Sil."

He leans down to kiss your head and you find yourself desperately hoping that he keeps his promise. You never want to have to go through this again.

But for now, graced with another chance to stay with the only person you’ve ever loved, you focus on the present, needing to change the heavy atmosphere stifling the room. Your tone shifts into a light, coy thing that immediately grabs his attention.

"You know, if you hadn't rushed in all guns blazing last night you'd have had the chance to listen to my plan for getting the info we need," you tell him. "Y'know, one that wouldn't get you thrown in Stillwater."

Silco stares at you with a frown and you struggle to keep in the smile that threatens to break.

"What plan?"

"The one where I seduce a poor, unsuspecting enforcer and use a bit of good old-fashioned lip service to get what we need," you say coquettishly, batting your eyelashes at him innocently despite the clear innuendo lacing your words.

Instantly, (brilliantly), his seafoam eyes darken with a delicious combination of jealousy and lust, sending a spark of hot desire through your body.

"Not in a million years," he says gruffly, pulling you even closer to him.

You twirl a playful finger through your hair.

"I don't know, I think it's a great plan if you ask me," you reply with an air of teasing nonchalance.

"I wouldn't let you anywhere near them,” his grip tightens on the fabric by your waist. “You're mine.”

Leaning forward, you whisper in his ear, knowing exactly what it does to him.

"Prove it."

There’s a beat of electrified silence before Silco abruptly stands, pulling you up with him until you’re both on your feet.

He smoothly coils one arm around your waist, the other snaking around the nape of your neck until his lips hover tantalisingly above yours. And just when you think he’s about to finally close the gap, he pauses.

You frown, chest flooding with anxiety that you’ve done something wrong, or he’s changed his mind, or-

Silco removes the hand resting behind your head and before you can voice your concerns, he suddenly grabs the bed sheet, ripping it off the bed in a move that sends the mess of your once-packed belongings tumbling to the floor in a cacophony.

"Silco!" you admonish him, already envisioning the amount of time and effort it would take to pick everything up and put it back in its rightful place.

"What?” he says, like butter wouldn’t melt. “We can put it back in the morning."

Then, he swiftly picks you up and tosses you onto the mattress, making you squeal in surprise.

Silco kneels onto the bed and climbs until his body is hovering over yours, arms caging you in as you heat up, warmth flooding downwards in anticipation.

"Now, I think it's time I make it up to you, sweetheart," he purrs, leaning down to hotly trace your ear with his lips. “I’m going to make sure you never want to leave this bed again.”

- A/N: don’t mind me, just casually obsessed with the idea of silco emptying out your bag to desperately stop you from leaving and then frenziedly trying to propose to you when he doesn’t know to deal with his emotions 💁‍♀️

#silco x reader #silco x you #silco x gn!reader #silco x f!reader #silco x m!reader #silco #silco fic #silco arcane #one shot

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constantfragmentation · 3 months

Text

@popoisatan you and @missygoesmeow inspired me and I have a Regency Silco One-Shot I'm writing right now.

I'm at 976 words already. So, of course, I'll be long-winded as usual.

A snippet:

“Declare yourself, sir,” your voice attempting some self-preservation.

Straightening your shoulders, your chin lifted in authority. You might not be the lady of the house but it was still yours and this man was a guest intruding on your privacy.

“I must ask you to leave, sir.”

“Why? I was here first,” he replied. “You leave.”

The arrogance! You gestured him to the french doors.

“I came out here for some privacy, if you don’t mind.”

“Ah, so did I,” he remarked, a smile threatening to emerge. “And, I do mind.”

#regency silco #silco fanfic #silco one shot

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linesfromzaun · 2 years

Note

For the dialogue thing:

"Will you please desist with the Old Man thing? I'm only 41 for pity's sake."

Ooh I love this thank you for sending this in!!!

Rating: G

Tags: calling Silco and old man, fluff, cuddling

You both were too exhausted to make it to your shared bedroom. After an eventful, yet successful mission, you both finished your reports and collapsed on the worn out sofa in Silco’s office. Silco had managed to rest his head on your chest, and was listening to your heartbeat. You were becoming sleepy incredibly fast, feeling Silco’s dexterous digits glide comforting patterns on your exposed skin. Your fingers card in his peppered locks, and you subconsciously hum to yourself.

“My little lovely old man.”

You feel Silco’s head turn to look at you, and he gives your sides a squeeze. “Will you please desist with the “Old Man” thing? I’m only 41 for pity’s sake.” You heavy eyelids flutter open and you pull him closer to you.

“‘S not a bad thing to get old, Sil. You’re pretty like this.” Your eyes close once more and you feel him slightly crawl up your body.

“You think I’m… pretty because I am old?” Your eyes lock on his, and he sees the admiration in your eyes.

“You’ll always be handsome, beautiful, pretty, or, gorgeous to me.” You pull him back to your tired form, giving his head a few kisses. “I love you the way you are and what you’ll look like years from now, white hair or just more streaks of it.” You feel Silco’s arms wrap around you and sigh softly. “I love you, Silco, goodnight.”

“I love you too, my darling.”

#thought abt the new edits of him being completely white haired #also I just woke up so I’m in a soft mood.#silco #arcane silco #silco my beloved #silco x reader #silco fanfic #silco x female reader #silco x y/n #silco one shot #arcane #silco x gender neutral reader #silco x male reader

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sweatandwoe · 1 year

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wait the Marcus x Silco stuff wasn't a joke 😰😟

Absolutely fucking not. Shipping these two unironically, they'd hate fuck

Rewatch those scenes of Silco and Marcus interacting and they wanna fuck. No way Marcus would let this bossy lil rat man say and do all that shit to him if he didn't like it a little.

He's just such a stressed out busy man. He's running the enforcers,dealing with the council. So maybe he gets a reprieve because Silco is actually the easiest to deal with in comparison. Silco just straight up tells him what to do, in a condescending way that gets under his skin. Because God he hates him, he hates him so much he can't stop thinking about him. Stares at his mouth when he gets berated next time because he wants to punch out those crooked teeth, not because he wants to kiss him. He hates him so much. God he can't stop coming back, getting Silco to order him around, and he really wishes Silco would order him to do something fucked up because Marcus has no idea how to ask him to kiss him, to tell him he thinks about him all the time, how he imagines how they're both single fathers who lost the one person who meant the most to them, that he wonders if Silco gets lonely to, and he hates him, he hates him, he hates him, he loves-

Anyway yeah, normal about these two

#tempted to make a serious canon somewhat compliant one shot about these two #just titling it: marcus discovers bottoming and has a crisis #silco x marcus #sweaty asks

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space-blue · 2 years

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Sigh... OK I want to try and write a small zaundads/vanco piece... I'm open to suggestions and ideas. I'm low on inspiration and have little time to get started.

Any of you want to see a scenario in particular, hit me up. May not do it, but I need to kick-start my muse.

#arcane #Zaundads #Vanco #Silco #Vander #Fanfic #One shot

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gh0stchoir · 1 year

Text

Arcane AU Tao gets abandoned by his mom after she doesn't pay up from her deal of getting shimmer. She gets taken because she now has to pay up her debt.

#I'm brainstorming okay #thinking Tao one day a few years later steals a fruit and gets chased down by the owner #the owner also happens to be wanted by Silco #Tao gets cornered by the owner and before anything can happen he gets shot #I think that's how silco and Tao will meet #he's like 'where tf is your parents'

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a-gal-with-taste · 2 years

Note

https://twitter.com/witchy_writes_s/status/1524318871888539648

I feel like this would be right up your alley

Oh, Okay. I see you, reawakening my love for the enemies-to-lovers troupe~

Warnings: SFW. Language, enemies-to-Lovers, Firelight!Reader (plagiarizing a bit from @chickenparm, go read Squeeze so I don’t get sued), canon-typical violence/injuries, banter, a Slow-Burn on fast-forward mode

The first, immediate reaction, is to laugh. Hysterically, maddeningly so, for such an offer is nothing short of pure absurdity. But it's just too absurd for you to even commit to your instantaneous reaction, and instead you just let out a barking sound that's somewhere between a chortle, and a wet, sticky cough, "What?"

"It's cliché, I'm know." Silco is at least honest about it, though he doesn't look you in the eyes as he focuses on his hands, keeping the blood-stained bandage to your torso. Not as much red as when first applied, but enough that made even his non-existent brow furrow, in a rare show of perturbation, daresay concern. Apparently your luck was so shit, you didn't even have to move all that much for the stitches to reopen...

Your musings are cut short, when his eyes dart up to yours once more. As if the second spent from them was too long. "But however predictable my offer may seem, it is an offer I mean, as sincerely as you believe-me capable of. Without strings, or less-than-desirable motives you may accuse me of... I simply ask one thing of you..."

Join me.

If he had said that, the very first time you had been face to face with him, you wouldn’t have even given the time to cackle at the absurdity of being offered a position at the side of the Eye of Zaun. No, you probably would’ve grabbed the mask he had knocked-off your face, and smashed it into his stupid face over and over until it became mush.

It’s what any other Firelight would’ve done. It’s what you should’ve done, as you had scrambled back up to your feet, all under the hawk-like glare of Silco. Unmatching-eyes never wavered from your face, of which he seemed to be committing every detail of into his very-memory, as your hand frantically reached for a knife that - of course - had fallen during the unfortunate hoverboard crash. Knifeless, every nerve in your body was in preparations to lunge when Silco, the overlord and Shimmer tyrant of Zaun himself, tilted his chin up, looked you dead in the eyes and said, “You are far too old to be playing dress-up. Playing babysitter, then?”

Your mask was in his long-fingered hand.

It was a sight that should’ve filled you with far more disgust, but instead, you only felt annoyed at the most evil man in the Undercity, swiping your tongue around your mouth and spitting down far-too close to his boots. “I want that back.”

“Very well.” He didn’t hand it to you. Not immediately. “Most of the Firelights are little more than children. I wasn’t aware they had a babysitter.” “And I wasn’t aware you conduct interrogations like they’re idle conversation,” You counter back, shifting on the balls of your feet. To lunge at him, end his reign and secure freedom and victory for Firelights, and Undercity alike, or to turn and run; you aren’t sure. The sounds of ambush on the shimmer-shipment are still going strong, but the weight of Silco’s unyielding gaze on you is even stronger.

Your body doesn’t know what to do; fulfill the mission by taking out the head of the snake, or allow yourself to be charmed by the serpent.

It’s decided against your will, when you storm a couple steps forward with a snarl on your lips and a panic in your step as you reach out, swiping at the mask yourself. Gloved fingers pinch the edge of your mask tighter and come up to pinch around your wrist as well, tight and as unyielding as his gaze as you glare up at him with plenty of fury, and no small amount of sudden-dread.

Silco continues to look down at you, seemingly unbothered that a quarter of his shipment has been ravaged, all his men are engaged in violent fisticuffs with a gang seeming hellbent to tear his operation down, and one Firelight, within striking - killing distance, gazing up at him. He’s unbothered by all of this, almost lazy in the way his gaze drifts down from your face, to your uniform, and his fingers wrapped around your wrist. He hums, dangerously-thoughtful, and meets your eyes again with a simple question on his lips, “What’s your name?”

It’s not the only question on his face, but you decide to ignore the one in his eyes, and respond to the one from his mouth with a definitive, instant, “Fuck you.”

With the loosening of his fingers on both your mask and wrist, you snatch yourself away with both still in-tact, turning with your swift retreat and barreling away from the unlucky sidelines where you had crashed, back towards the sound of battle. Sounds which, even with the bitter call of retreat soon following, are far sweeter sounds than that of the faintest chuckle of bemusement that carry in the wind behind you, and the unspoken question in the Eye of Zauns gaze.

It’s a question that’s silently repeated the next time he corners you.

Or rather, sits beside you. Taverns are your weakness, one that you indulge with the recent defeat, and other budding developments - specifically, ones that have to do with the man reflected in the half-full glass you bring up to your lips, to empty completely. Hands freeze like the blood in your veins, but you don’t turn to watch the rest of his approach, nor the soft hum as he settles onto the stool beside him.

Instead, as the now ungloved-hand raises in a silent order for a drink of his own, you complete your mission and bring the rest of your bourbon to your lips, suffering the burn in silence when he begins to speak. “This was quite risky... The common belief is that the Lanes have Eyes, or so I hear.”

“And the best booze in the Undercity. Thought it’d be worth it.”

You try to convince yourself that’s not a laugh you hear, but it’s a sound that’s too low to be the tinkering of ice-cubes clinking in the glass placed before Silco. Silence reigns shortly after the not-laugh that slips from his mouth, and as he pleasures himself with taking a tip of the finest the bar has to offer, you chance a glance over your shoulder, attempting to see if you can spot the very gang-member who is going to break through the crowd at Silco’s orders to haul you off to Gods-know what kind of fate.

“Is it?”

“Hm?”

“Is it worth it? Trapezing about in a mask, risking death and embarrassment, all for the sake of... what? Shattering a handful of Shimmer vials with rebellious teenagers?" You bristle at such a plain dismissal of the cause - the Firelights weren't just some petty streetgang, looking to get rid of the higher-competition. You tell him as much, tone rather curt as you turn to him. "This might shock you, but eliminating your drugs from further damaging our streets isn’t just a pass-time of ours,” You snap coolly, bringing your quietly refilled glass back to your lips, and ignoring his eyes that follow the movement. “We’re fighting to free the Lanes, to keep them safe and protected-”

“Several-thousand in property damages, fighting openly in the streets and sapping at the most profitable business Underground, means ‘safe and protected?’” He sounded more curious than anything, but Silco was clearly unafraid of the glower you gave him in response to that shred of bemusement in his tone. “It’s better,” You hiss through your teeth. “Then doing nothing, and leaving the Undercity to rot while you line your pockets.”

“The pragmatism, I can appreciate. There’s a necessity for there to be a base amount of violence and destruction, in order to inspire change," Silco smiles as if he has any idea how it feels, and catches your glare with a glint of his own mix-matched eyes as he brings his glass to his lips. Cool amber slips past them, and he hums at the flavor on his tongue, with eyes that never leave yours and...

You hate it.

You hate being under the attention of the Eye, not just because it's wrong in every sense, not only because nearly every muscle in your body is yelling, screaming for you to turn and run from his attention...

But there's a tiny, slim, speck of a part of you, that wants to stay right where you are, and stay in his gaze forever.

"And what would you know about inspiring change?" You whisper quietly, and Silco let's out a scoff thats far too bemused. "Except for the fact that Shimmer-overdoses certainly weren't the norm around here in the years past, I doubt you and your goons have been as inspiring as you like to think you-"

"What was the last Enforcer raid? The last time Topsiders paraded our streets like a source of oddities to gawk at? Can you remember the last time you remembered a Topsider being amongst our streets, at all?"

You hate the fact that not only he says these calmly and matter-of-factly, but the fact that you can't actually recall. Silco continues on, after admiring your frustration for a beat as he swirls his glass in hand, "I admit, it's crude and often distasteful methods that win-wars, allowing circulation of drugs to bring strength to even the lowest among us... but in these years, I find myself enjoying victory over vials and papers, in compared to over bodies."

"Yes, because Shimmer is devoid of a body-count."

"Its not perfect," Silco readily admits, with something almost akin to apologetic in the way he shrugs one shoulder. "Additional research is always needed. Alternative options are consistently debated, however, outside perspective would benefit in easing out the more negative-effects that Zaun seems to naturally draw onto itself..."

"You think you can talk your way out of the mess you've created?" You sputter, and immediately grow quiet when he chuckles. A low, rolling sound that slips smoothly through the air - it's thin enough to wrap around your own attention, and commanding enough to hold on tight.

You're going to be hearing that sound for days in your mind.

"With the boy? No, he seems more inclined to silence me than to hear me... and he's not the one I would wish to converse with, in the journey to find a middle-ground."

Glass hits the table - not cracking it, but firmly left on the countertop, and left unfinished as you move off your stool. Silco watched, amused, and once more his fingers come up to lock your wrist like a shackle... a warm cuff, for you realize, suddenly, that he came ungloved. "It's not impractical," He comments to your stiff-form. "Wars have been resolved with much less than polite conversation. And in any case, you've sat here and listened to me for several minutes already..."

Eyes stubbornly fixed towards the exit, flicking instinctively to the scattered patrons for those that are just waiting for Silco's order, and you are so focused that you nearly miss the soft breeze of warm air brushing the shell of your ear when he leans close.

"Imagine how much we could talk though, if we spent not a handful of moments, but an entire evening? I believe we would get much done, don't you?"

There's another question there, beneath his words and, if you turned, you would see it in his eyes. But you don't entertain it, not with the one he whispered screeching your mind to a halt, and keeping it prone and useless when his thumb, warm and calloused, rubs a slow line over the pule-point on your wrist.

Up. And then down. Slow, methodical, and with care.

"We shouldn't."

"We shouldn't." Silco agrees in a low murmur. "But we could."

"... I can't."

That laugh is going to be the death of you - the laugh, or the feel of his breath tickling the skin behind your ear, you offhandedly acknowledge that one of those two things will be your undoing. "Somehow I doubt there's a force-alive that can stop you at anything you want to truly do." Silco muses, at the same time his fingers slip from your wrist, with one final, trailing touch along your veins. "You can. And if you decide that you do, you'll know where to find me."

You're released, freed, and give no opportunities for him to take hold of you again, darting from your barstool like life and sanity depends on it.

Despite being the improv drinking-partner of the Eye of Zaun with you as a Firelight, somehow, you know your life is still assured. Perhaps even protected.

Your sanity, however, seems to be something Silco relishes in breaking apart every time you meet. Whether by design or by coincidence, every part of you that vehemently, totally and utterly has resigned to loathing every-part about his existence, is left frayed at the seams every time you find yourself at his side again with every meeting.

And you met him again. Many, many times after that.

The bar is a favored place of yours, but never your regular - a Firelight is always ever adapting, always prepared to be on the move, never settling, and yet you find yourself making something of a third-home at that same counter. First once, than twice, and then more times than you can recall. But what you can recall, is that every time, Silco is there. Seated right beside your own, a glass already in hand, with a drink already fresh at the counter.

He swears he wasn't waiting. And after one of your many visits, you swear you weren't arrive early because you want to.

"Just like you aren't showing up at the same bar for the pleasure of my company?"

His quiet chuckles break you every time. The low-mirth in his smiles when you remember who he is, what he is, and make no attempt to hide the scorn in your tone.

"Exactly."

“I see.”

You hate the fact that he only smiles, truly smiles, when your speech dips from conversation to rhetoric, from cautiously treading the line between critique and rhetoric against the Eye. You loath the idea that he finds your impassioned hisses and glowers amusing, and you hate the fact that, slowly, with every passing visit, those feelings of scorn and words of hatred start to fade.

The words and feelings fade, but the way Silco smiles at you never does.

And you hate it, you swear you do. Or, at the very least, you know you should. But for whatever reason, you don't.

You could blame the liquor or the situation. You can blame the way he seems to have you charmed, how Silco's low words and smooth smiles have done their duty in wavering your loyalty to the point that it's shaken. You even try to blame your fading loathing for the Eye of Zaun, on the fact that there dares to be improvement on the streets.

Shimmer is being diluted. Excessive dosage is becoming rarer by the days, and weeks that follow the meets you share with him. Some Firelights even claim, bewildered and suspicious, that sales are being moderated almost carefully.

When you had stormed into the bar that night, snarls and accusations on your lips, with fury in your eyes, Silco didn't break your sanity with a smile, not this time. He broke it with an ungloved hand, sliding over yours and squeezing, once. "I told you. We could get much done between us, if we only talked."

You knew, one way or another, that simply talking with the Eye was going to destroy you, one way or another. And when he succeeds in it, Silco doesn't win with a knife jammed into your heart, like you had always suspected.

He wins, by simply gazing at you with that ever-present question in his eye, as he raises your hand to brush his lips along your always-bruised knuckles.

Join me.

It's a question you always see, rather than hear. He never says it, but it's spoken in his eyes all the same. With every smile he shows as he silently files one of your complaints for later uses, with every press on his fingers brushing, resting along your skin, and eventually, becoming a constant that warms your skin every time you sit at the bar, a single palm flat on the counter, with his own coming up to cover it with his own.

Joined, rather minimally, by body. But with every passing meeting, every glance you spare out of the corner of your eye to him between conversations of work, of the Undercity, of histories, of yourself and than one-another, you know what Silco’s asking.

He wants you to join him, and with every passing meeting, you’re finding it harder and harder for your own eyes to keep telling him no.

Unfortunately, you’re so worried about the conversation going on between your gazes, that you neglect the fact that Silco is not the only Eye in the Lanes, and that the Firelights have some of their own.

There’s no warning, and like you and Silco, that rather important conversation is not spoken through words, but fists, and the venom-filled look that’s given to your crumpled, broken and dangerously-prone body in the alleyway, before you are left for crows.

“Nngh... g-gotta give them props,” You manage between red-lined teeth, swallowing back another whimper at the delay of local-anesthesia as a needle works to stitch up the brand-new slashes that will leave scars on your side. Diluted or not, assurances that it was wholly medical and not the recreational brand, you’d rather bleed-out than take the Shimmer. “They... they didn’t waste much time.”

“No, they didn’t,” Silco murmurs, green and red following the doctors hands as he works. The flight to the metal-table, or even the discovery of your body in the alley, is something you can barely recall as you struggle just to keep your eyes open. What you do recall, is that you were only about an hour later than the silently-agreed upon meeting time at the bar.

It should infuriate you, that Silco so-clearly assumed that you would always be there, to arrive at his side so readily, when in reality you owed him nothing.

There’s a warmth instead, in your chest and around one of your hands as you watch Silco’s expression. Natural-brow furrowed, face stony and unreadable, save for eyes that flicker to watch every movement of the doctor’s work. Eyes that are barely shielding the unspoken emotions finally glance up to you, and that curtain fades to show his dark-rage, fury, promise and...

Yes, and worry. Worry for you, and you know there’s little point in denying or admonishing him for showing you such weakness.

Instead, you simply croak out one request. “Don’t.”

His jaw twitches with the way his teeth grind in seething fury, before motion stills entirely from him as you squeeze his hand, not entirely out of pain as a needle digs into your skin to close the gap in your side. “Silco,” You murmur, voice growing weaker, and also stronger, with how apt his attention is fully-directed onto you. “Please. Spare them.”

“I should. It would send a message.”

“Exactly, you wanna... p-paint bigger target on my back?”

You held his hand until darkness at your vision blurred and faded him from sight entirely. But though he says nothing, the small, tiny points of seagreen and red remain in your sight long after blackness fills it’s edges, and the words in them say more than enough for you to slip into slumber without fear for your now ex-comrades.

There’s also that familiar question in his eyes. It seems ever-present now, from the moment you awaken in a bed far too fine, in a location far too panic-inducing that you instinctively reached out, and wrap tightly around an awaiting hand of the man at your side.

From that moment, the moment he guided you up to limp your sore, aching body into sitting up, and soon standing. A question radiates in his gaze, with every moment you spend in the snake’s den, and every moment where instead of restoring your demolished honor with the Firelights by ending him, you stay close to the side of the serpent.

And like any other charmer, Silco speaks in words swear and alluring, unhelped by hands easing away the pain of re-opened stitches. “We could do well, together. We are well together.”

“Could name a few that don’t think so. Think you might know them, kicked my ass a few times for that very reason that we were seen together?” Your sarcasm is unappreciated, but you are only admonished with the pressure of his hand squeezing around yours as he raises a brow. Your voice catches, because while he also looks unimpressed, Silco also looks firm in his conviction, making your own waver.

“We... I shouldn’t.”

Your voice is growing weaker. Resolves are crumbling quickly, as Silco only continues to stroke his thumb over the edge of your lip, and gaze down into your eyes with that same, ever-present, never spoken question.

“We can. You can.” A beat, and then he leans down, hand slipping from over your side, your body, until it’s soon tracing the contours of your face. A face you know he’s memorized in it’s entirely, but his eyes drop briefly from yours as his thumb, ungloved, traces along your bottom-lip. Taking in the sight of them parting, before his eyes jump back to yours, only that one question in his eyes as he murmurs quietly, “Look how far we’ve gotten already just by talking. Imagine how much more we could achieve.”

You swallow. His fingers don’t leave your bottom lip and chin. “You... Shimmer’s always going to be a problem.”

“Undoubtly.”

“My... The Firelights...”

And then, with the quietest breath of your name, washing over your face in a warm breeze, he simply asks it:

“Join me.”

He speaks with his mouth; finally giving voice to the question he’s been asking for a long, long time with his eyes. Eyes that have never wavered in his conviction, not from the moment he saw the willing-nature you showed, and the willingness you showed to talk.

It’s not enough, what he’s done already. It’s different, but you know it’s not nearly enough for what the Undercity needs. Silco on his own is not enough to inspire change, but, selfishly, you’ve started to believe that perhaps the two of you together, can make a better effort.

You also have selfish reasons. It’d be silly to lie and pretend they were all noble and thinking only of Zaun’s best-interests, and not just what you want.

From there, it’s an easy decision, and one you don’t verbally respond to. Instead, you answer the once-silent question with a silent-action of your own, and you push yourself up onto your elbows, matching his hand on your face with one of yours on his own.

In the end, you imagine a verbal-response is unnecessary. Silco can surely hear the yes, in the way you kiss him then.

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