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grugruel · 6 months

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The Game

Pairing: Silco x f!reader

Masterlist

Summary: You and Silco like to keep things interesting by playing a game. Its your turn now, heat flares and tempers rise.

Word count: 2.7k

Warnings: Established relationship, hints of smut, brief choking, mentioned degrading, tension? Elutions to sub!dom!silco towards the end.

I throw the doors to The Last Drop open, making my grand entrance.

Smoke billows out through the opening, it curls around my vision as it mixes with the impure air of Zaun and all heads in the club turn toward me.

An uscher of whispers rumble through the crowd and the music suddenly halts. A mans low whistle can be heard ringing out through the crowd, aswell as the consequent "ow" and "hush" as the man next to him elbows him in the side, giving him a stern look in warning.

I was off limits to everyone but one man, and that was considered common knowledge in Zaun.

I take a step inside, smiling devilishly, approving of the general public reaction.

I let the doors slam shut behind me, welcoming the familiar embrace of the murky, green tinted darkness of the club as it envelopes me. I gaze around the room, searching for him.

I am counting on him to be in his office already, as It was a crucial part of my plan for dramatic effect. And when married to a man like him, one couldnt help but look for him in every room you enter.

All that im met with though, is an array of mixed emotions, smiles, glances and a bunch of wide eyed men and women. The crowd was divided between those who, had they not know was good for them, would hollar and applaud my confidence or those who would be scared half to death and couldnt even dare throw a glance my way.

Most bastards, however. Had already let their slack-jawed chins hit the floor at the first sight of me, and oh . . . was I a vision to behold.

Everyone already knew who I was of course, my antics were not news to them, neither were the fact that I am wife to the infamouse Eye of Zaun.

So to explain the situation, Silco and I ha'd been playing a fun little game for some time, just to spice things up. We set two rules of outmost importance, no matter what, we had to follow them.

1. Prizes asked for must be given.

2. Revenge is always permitted.

Meaning whoever manages to outdo the others previous actions in boldness, audacity, mischief etc, wins whatever prize they desire from the other and whatever we did to challenge the other, we could always retaliate however we wanted and those asks had to be met

Usually when it was Silcos turn, he'd experiment, try something new, take me in the hall, in an alley, where anyone could see. Just for the thrill if it, because we can, because who would question him?

But as of late, work has been stressing him and hes been using me. He makes a public display out of me, showing everyone just who I belong to. A power play, of course, reinforcing his claim on me and putting on a show of his brazen nature as for Zaun not to forget who he is.

And he'd do it all with a ravenous gleam in his eye, enjoying every second of my embaressment. But god help any man who makes a remark or even looks at you the wrong way.

And since he has a reputation to uphold, an image to keep clean, being the crimeboss that he is, I had never been allowed to play our game in any type of crowded setting. He needed to be respected and more imporantly, feared. Meaning he could not be put into conpromising positions publicly. Privately was a whole nother situation.

But today, that would be coming to an end. I'd been forced to accept the situation since this whole thing came about, but he needed a reminder of who he married. Although I do not have as important of a position as him, my life did not begin when we married. I was someone before him and I am my own person still.

Blinded by love, and lust. I've let him do whatever he wants to me and although that can be a welcome notion betwix the sheets, it is not when he needs to make an example of someone, not anymore.

Sevika stood leaned against the stairrailings, watching my plan unfold, eyes wide. She sprung into action, ripping the jacket off the shoulders from the unsuspecting man next to her and rushes to cover me up.

She knows you're not the kind of woman who listens to anyone who tells you what to do, with the exception being Silco. And knowing she'd get hell from the man himself if she did anything else than try, she tries.

I reject the jacket of course, gently pushing her away from me. I clasp my hands behind me back and walk slowly towards the bar with her shadowing closely behind me in hope of hiding something from the crowd.

She lowers her head to my height, leaning closer to my ear, a shudder runs through me "He wont be happy" she snarles.

"I know" I answer nonchalantly. And a ghost of a smile flashes over her lips as she shakes her head and turns around, sighing.

I sit down on one of the stools by the bar, watching her as she makes her way upstairs. I order a whiskey and take a look around the room once again, noting all the stares.

"Cmon folks, he'll be down in a minute and you know better than to stare. Get back to it." I say in a low chuckle and they do just that, knowing the truth of my words.

Minutes later Sevika comes back down, she throws me a warning glance that tells me "not in the mood" and a new feeling begins to fester within me, uncertainty. I already knew he'd be cross when I schemed my little plan up, that was foreseen. But now?

I had no time to think of the consequences, because another set of footsteps could be heard a few paces behind her, slow and deliberate. He was already punishing me and I've yet to lay my eyes on him. My stumache flitters despite myself, longing to see how this plays out. Turbulence was to be excpected, but the rewards would be gratifying.

The crowd seems to have heard the destinctive sounds of Silcos footsteps aswell, as their attention turn toward the stairs.

Through the gloom of the lowly lit, smoke filled room, the glowing red of his cigar lights up his features, giving an earie glow to his eye. He looks mightly unimpressed, inhaling a puff of smoke his eyes scan the crowd, eventually settling on my form. Clad in nothing more than the crimson red lingerie that he bought me. He was already incredibly annoyed that you would compromise him like this, but seeing you in the set that he stressed were for his eyes only truly set him ablaze on the inside.

I swiwel the barstool so that I face him completley, the bartender slides my drink toward me and I grab it as I lean back against the bar, forearms supporting me. A pleased expressions washes over my face, this was a serious matter. But I should gloat whilst I still can.

He glares at me for a minute, the club is so silent you could hear peoples breathing, very shallow, careful breaths as they try to avoid catching his attention and possibly turning his displeasure onto themselves.

He takes in my appearance, looking me up and down. Sevika had not known the ordeal of this specific set of lingerie, so she had not conveyed its importance to him.

His patience usually wears thin, but seeing me in the lingerie he clearly told me were for him makes his blood boil.

Turbulence stirs within him, feeling incredible annoyance at your clear disobediance, but also a tinge of impatience to punish you especially since you did look brutally ravishing.

And as if his hair sences his stress, a greying strand of his magnificent hair falls over his eye. He sighs deeply, gathering himself before taking action, he catches the runaway strand by combing his free hand through his hair, placing it perfectly back with the rest.

He moves the hand holding his cigar, wafting it back and forth dismissively as he turns toward the people, adressing them "Avert you eyes ladies and gentlemen, that is my wife." he orders.

"Go ahead, leave, scram, flee." He makes a dramatic shooing gesture and announciates the last word, then taking another drag of his cigar.

He turns to Sevika "Make sure they understand that they did not see anything, then leave you too. No one is to be let in." she nods and posts herself by the door.

The people flock toward the exit, creating a bottleneck effect. Carefully, eagerly even, they follow Silcos directions reinforced by Sevika. They did not need to be told twice, they had already forcibly forgotten the incident and had no intention on stickning around to challenge his temper.

As the last of the crowd have left and the doors slam shut behind Sevika, its only the two of us left, so I stand to make my way to him.

"Stay." Silco says coldly, eyes snapping to me. A shiver runs through my body, I sit back down, crossing my legs, anticipation lining my senses as I smile at him.

We hold eachothers gaze "I missed you" I say.

"So I see" he responds, striding closer, one painstakingly slow step at a time and when hes finally close enough to touch I reach out to him, taking the lining of his tie between my fingers, softly tracing it down his chest, stopping at his vest button to undo it.

He snatches my wrist, holding it closer to him, inhaling the scent of my perfume, loving the way it mixes with the cigar smoke. He kisses my wrist before pinning it to the bar-counter behind me.

Not so easily discouraged, I lean closer to him in an atempt to steal a kiss off of those ruthless lips. I let my eyes fall shut and lean further in until I feel his breath on my skin as I've done so many times before. Heat flashes through me as I imagine the taste of him being less than a mere second away, but my expectations fall short as im met by the the savour of his cigar instead.

"Tsk tsk tsk" he shakes his head "Surely you wouldnt dream it to be this easy my dear?" His tone mocking.

I scoff in pretend defeat as I take the cigar from him, taking a drag and leaning back against the counter again. "I was only teaching you a lesson, husband." I sigh.

"Oh" he exclaims, his demeanor unclear. A mix of entertainment and frustration evidens in his voice "You're teaching me a lesson hmm?" His gaze hardens and an frustrated smile forms on his lips as he awaits my response.

"Naturally."

A gleam of irritation lights in his eye, he takes the whiskey from my hand, studying it carefully as if planning his next move. He takes a slow sip, "So.." he begins, carefully phrasing his words, "Would you like to tell me how come? Because frankly, my dear. Im at a loss here." Agitation evident in his tone.

"Truly?" I question, not sure if he actually wants me to answer that. "I love this little game of ours, it can be... Oh so thrilling" I sigh in reminiscence, thinking back to past adventurez when we've enjoyed eachothers rueful challenges.

"But I do not enjoy to be used as someones puppet, not even yours. You've turned this wonderful game of ours into a show of your power, using me. So, I wanted to teach you a lesson." I repeated myself, nonchalantly.

His gaze bores into my own, furious at your choice of handling the situation, but even more so because theres truth in your words. "I have a reputation." He spits the last word, "How will I be respected if I cannot controll my own woman?" He asks, frustrated.

I sneer, "You forget yourself Silco." Theres venom in my tone, "I may not be known as "The Industrialist" but I have a reputation of my own and it is time I reminded you of it. Zaun will not respect you more for treating me like shit, and your blatant audacity to feel bad for yourself is sickening." I state coldly, and he knows your right, yet he cannot help how your words irk him. His face burns hot with shame.

"Ive let you degrade me in front of thousands of people, just for you to earn your power." I spit back.

"But truth be told, husband. Youre not a king, nor a god, and people will understand that you cannot control me. Ive never been know as conceded woman and I believe I have made that clear today." I fix my gaze sternly on his, making sure hes understood. He glares back, nodding.

Certain hes seen my point, I ease up. Work has taken a toll on him as of late, thats not his fault, but how he chose to counteract it is.

I lean forward again, softening my gaze as I carefully stroke his scar and whisper "You might have chosen me as your bride, but I also chose you, you know."

He sighs, closing his eyes, the anger melting away from him as he remebers you when you first met, and thinks of the woman before him now. Hes loved every version of you that hes had to pleasure to know and hes been incredibly stupid to put you in such positions for his own gain, he will simply find others to make examples of. He meets your gaze again, defeated "Im afraid my dear girl, that you're right, my behavior towards you have been appaling. You win, this time." A releaved expression covers my face as I've gotten my point across.

"However," he says soflty placing both hands on either side of my face, cupping it "That wont stop me from earning my retribution, game rules." He points out, pressing a soft kiss to my lips as a hand slides one hand to the back of my head, grabbing a fistful of my hair, earning him a moan from me.

He strokes my cheek gently with the back of his free hand, then tracing his index finger along my jaw and ending it with a tap at the sharpest point under my ear, "Everything." He says concurrently with the tap.

He strokes a strand of hair behind my ear before continuing to trace his finger down my neck, following it with his gaze, he grabs my throat, squeezing lightly as he carefully yamks me closer to him, making me gasp, "Has." he punctuates, finger tapping again, this time on my artery.

He lets go of my throat an continues to trace his finger outward along my collarbone, stopping at my shoulder, "A." He taps again. Silent anticipation linger between us, as I wonder where this'll end.

He takes the crimson brastrap between his fingers, slowly sliding it off my shoulder as he traces it down to the cup, "Price." He ends, the tension between us culminating, as he taps one last time at the soft flesh of my breast.%I shiver runs along my spine, I lean into again, his lips a ghost on mine.

"Naturally" I whisper against his lips, feeling him smile.

His hands continue downward, coming to a stop at my hips, holding me in place as if I'd ever wish to be anywhere else and melting me completely with his sudden tenderness. But his grip hardens, ready to take what is his. And as much as I would love just that, I was not done and he knew it.

"But, I've yet to claim my price. Game rules." I state, he steps back, knowing that he has to abide by the rules. His eyes shift to mine, pleading and lust battling for controll. "Cruel, cruel woman" he whimpers.

One side of him is itching to do whatever he wants to you and the other begging for you to let him touch you. And you're about to make him beg for it.

#arcane silco #silco fic #silco x reader #silco fanfic #silco #silco x you #arcane #silco smut #silco league of legends #silco imagine #arcane smut #arcane imagine #league of legends smut

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khaotic-neutrxl · 4 months

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OH GREAT HEAVENS

#silco #you'd think i'm stupid and it's actually his hand #but no...#that's LITERALLY his schlong #watch the clip 😭#MY MOUTH IS WATERING #MEOWWWW MEOWWWWW MEOWWWWWWW #HES MAKING ME GO FERAL #i want to know who in fortiche animated this #thank you fortiche #for feeding us #OH GREAT HEAVENS #silco arcane #arcane silco #silco league of legends #silco lol #silco x you #silco smut #making me purr FOR REALLL

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cognacandlilac · 9 months

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To the Depths - Part Six - NSFW

(Pirate!Silco x F!Reader) Promises and Pomegranates

AO3 - Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3.1 - Part 3.2 - Part 4 - Part 5

Rating: Explicit/MDNI Chapter Summary: You come face to face against an impossible creature and it royally screws with your understanding of reality. Will Silco help you? Chapter Warnings/Tags: this chapter is SFW. Don't you worry, more smut is coming <3 A/N: Not beta'd because I'm trying to feed my momentum monster. She's starving and she's mean.

You stand in place, still staring up at the towering monster of living water. A part of your mind understands that it is about to snap at the ship like a wild animal but the thought is simply too impossible to comprehend.

“Torches!” Sevika shouts sharply enough to drag your attention back to the deck and crew. You are not the only one frozen with fear and disbelief. Most of the crew cannot seem to believe their eyes either.

“Torches!” Sevika snarls and shoves the nearest crewmember. This sends them scurrying off to illuminate the ship as much as possible. Your gaze drags back up the column of water to the beastly head and glowing eyes. Its neck reminds you somewhat of a snake, coiled to strike.

When its head darts forward toward the deck, you at least have the good sense to brace yourself. The beast thuds against the ship as though it is made of pure, solid matter. You are knocked clean off your feet, unable to stop yourself from colliding with the railing. Breath leaves your lungs in a sharp gust just in time for a rush of water to slam against your body.

Gasping, sputtering, and dazed, the only thing you can think to do is look for Silco but you don’t see him. An unexpected stab of pain blooms in your chest that has nothing to do with the physical blows your body just experienced.

He left you to fend for yourself.

You should not be surprised. Why would you expect anything different? So what if he danced with you and briefly participated in a conversation that didn’t consist of throwing insults at each other? That does not change the fact that you are a prisoner. Less than that, even. You’re a stolen commodity.

A lump rises in your throat and you tell yourself it’s because the pain in your right side is growing more intense by the moment. No other reason.

You know why you are here. You know where you stand.

The water creature lets out another shrill roar as its glowing eyes scan the deck. Your eyes follow the serpentine curve of its neck to where its body meets the deck and continues, rising over the railing, not unlike the way a snake’s body slides over a branch. Yet, as water pours off of its form, it never changes size.

It strikes again, aiming at Locke who manages to dive out of the way. Like before, the brace of its impact rocks the ship. This time, you are able to see the way water bursts from its body and rolls across the deck the way a rogue wave would roll across a calm sea.

What in the hell is it?

“Princess, you either need to get moving or get fighting. I don’t care which one you do. Just don’t get in the way.” Sevika brushes by you with a vicious look in her eyes as she attaches what looks to be some kind of miniature harpoon to the end of her mechanical arm.

You nod, though Sevika has already moved her attention back to the water creature.

“Bring its head down!” She barks at whoever is within earshot.

You try to make yourself move in any direction for any purpose but you simply can’t. Your mind is racing and grappling with the reality in front of you, leaving your body stuck in a state of awe and terror. It is only when a crewmate, the same one who nearly came to blows with Locke, crashes against the deck in front of you.

“Fuckin’ waterwyrms,” he grumbles as he scrambles to his feet just in time to avoid another wave rolling off the body of the beast.

A waterwyrm. An apt name that scratches along the outer edge of your frazzled memory. You cannot chase after it just now.

The clatter of metal pulls your attention and you realize a thick dagger has fallen from the belt of the swearing crewmate. You call out for him, realizing too late that you never learned his name. Not that it matters. You can’t see him anymore.

You reach for the dagger, figuring it’s better to arm yourself in one way or another while you decide what you’re going to do.

The storm the other day was frightening but familiar. You’d sailed through storms before. You knew what to do, to an extent and if you didn’t, the crew was there to set you right. But that isn’t the case now.

Only a handful of the crewmates crisscrossing the deck seem to know what they’re dealing with. The rest wear expressions you imagine are similar to the one on your face right now. You are not the only one out of your depth with this.

The dagger is heavier than you expected and, truth be told, you do not know how to wield it. The closest thing you’ve held to this is an engraved letter opener that you keep on your bedside table at home, just in case.

You struggle to decide whether or not to keep the dagger or discard it but you cannot remain rooted in place like this. You are completely unprotected. Once you find a bit of shelter, you can organize your thoughts, and pull yourself together.

A flickering instinct tugs at your mind. It whispers to you, urging you to find Captain Silco. He’s supposed to keep you from harm until you are returned safely to your father and fiance. That was the agreement.

A cruel stab of logic reminds you that not even Silco could offer absolute protection against a creature of myth and magic, especially not one that is determined to flood the ship with its watery form. Besides, Silco did not hesitate to abandon you once the waterwyrm rose from the black sea.

Another flash of hurt sears into your chest and you quickly replace the hurt with anger, unwilling to allow your ego to be bruised by that man more than it already has. Enough is enough. The familiar clarity of anger awakens the part of your mind that had gone hazy with shock at the sight of the waterwyrm.

You need to get to a safe place. Quickly. You flee, heading toward the stern, nearly tripping with every step as you do so. As much as you do not want to look at it, you keep your eyes fixed on the waterwyrm. Perhaps, if you were seeing it in a painting or sketch, you would find it beautiful but not here. Not when it’s real and dangerous and hell-bent on fracturing your reality. Things like this only exist in stories.

Then again, you thought Silco only existed in stories, and look how that has panned out for you.

With a soft groan, you keep moving forward. Even in the most dire of situations, the Captain still manages to snake his way to the forefront of your mind. The thought stokes your anger and you cling to it as you navigate around the scrambling crewmates and thrashing waterwyrm. It has slithered around to the port side of the ship, an equal distance from the bow and stern. This would be a good thing if you didn’t feel a spray of water coming from behind you. You look over your shoulder to see its watery, snake-like tail rising on the opposite side of the ship.

You’ve seen plenty of sketches of mythical krakens wrapping their tentacles around ships to squeeze them into splitters. Could a waterwyrm do such a thing?

The tail swings like a whip, heading right toward you. You dive forward, evading the tail but you’ve realized you’re now scrambling to find your footing right beside the great neck of the beast. You gaze up, tipping your face all the way back to look at its head. Its attention is drawn elsewhere, for the moment. Instead of moving away, you feel the weight of the dagger in your hand.

You look at the rippling, translucent body of the waterwyrm. Surely, if it is solid enough to perch on the deck as it wreaks havoc, it is solid enough to feel the pierce of a blade. Without thinking twice, you lift the dagger and stab it into the side of the waterwyrm. The dagger pieces its watery hide like a hot knife through butter.

It does…nothing.

No, that isn’t true. It’s done something. It’s gotten the beast's attention. The waterwyrm’s serpentine neck swivels and bends, bringing its head down until it is looking you right in the eye. Those blue orbs glow and shine like fire. It has no pupils but you know it’s looking right at you, into you.

With a low, gurgling hiss, it opens its mouth.

The anger that propelled you forward evaporates, leaving you with nothing but a cold, hollow sense of fear. You cannot move. You are vaguely aware that the dagger has slipped from your hand and has clattered onto the deck.

Every inch of your skin, every drop of blood, every bone screams at you to run but you can’t. You can’t look away from the waterwyrm’s eyes. Now you see the beauty of such a creature, though the notion is far from soothing.

You will be swallowed up by its hungry maw.

You wonder if it will kill you by drowning or if its teeth are more solid than they appear. You wonder which you’d prefer. Probably the latter. You’ve never seen someone drown, but enough of your father’s men have had close enough brushes with such a watery death that you know it’s unpleasant.

It occurs to you that this is the first time you’ve pondered your own death. It always seemed like such a faraway thing. An inevitable thing, like a candle blowing out. You would be here and then you would be gone. You never gave much thought to what happened in between. The act of dying itself.

A crack rings out and it doesn’t fully register with you that something has happened before the waterwyrm’s head reels back. It snarls and snaps, howling with rage. Something bright and sparkling falls in front of your face.

“Yes!” Jinx’s delighted laugh is out of place with everything happening around you as she appears by your side. She scoops up the bright, shining thing. With a slow blink, you realize it’s one of the waterwyrm’s eyes. She slips it into her pocket. Its glow is so intense it shines through the fabric of her pants.

“You should probably move,” Jinx says, putting a hand on your shoulder and tugging you back toward the weather deck. “I just made that thing really angry and I still need the other eye.”

She turns you a little and gives you a small shove in the direction of the weather deck. There, at the top of the steps, you see Silco with a rifle in hand. As always, he looks eerily still amongst the chaos. His ocean eye is bright and focused as he watches the waterwyrm.

You dart forward and start to climb the stairs, but your legs have gone wobbly. You stumble near the top, reaching out and catching yourself on his leg to keep yourself from sliding down the steep steps.

“You’re alright, treasure.” You feel a large, gentle hand on the back of your head. “Stay right there. This will be over and done with soon.”

Several words leap into your mouth but none of them make it past your tongue. You find that you can do nothing but cling to his leg and hope his words ring true.

“Line it up for me, minnow,” Silco orders. You see a flash of blue as Jinx scrambles up the nearest mast and begins to wave and shout at the waterwyrm. The half-blind beast whips its head around, teeth bared and snarling with fury. You close your eyes, not wanting to look upon it anymore but that is worse. The moment you close your eyes, all you see is the waterwyrm bearing down on you, ready to devour you. Your eyes snap back open just as the waterwyrm strikes at Jinx. Its head moves into the perfect position for Silco to take the shot, and he does. Another crack rings out, shooting right into your bones. The second glowing eye comes loose. This time, Jinx is able to catch it before it hits the deck.

And then, you aren’t fully sure what happens. The waterwyrm moans weakly, its head swaying as it struggles to keep itself upright. It begins to collapse, as though it’s been mortally wounded rather than blinded. You cling harder to Silco’s leg, bracing for an impact that could be severe enough to damage the ship. Just before the waterwyrm’s limp body hits the deck, it melts into water. Thick droplets of seawater smash into the surface of the deck like a vicious rain, but that’s all that happens.

Your brow furrows with confusion before you look up at Silco. He sets the rifle aside before reaching down to help you to your feet. Around you, the crew checks for damage to the ship. Some look exhausted and annoyed. Most look as confused as you feel. Sevika looks as though she’s just eaten a whole lemon. You briefly wonder what she must have seen in her life for something like the waterwyrm to be considered little more than an inconvenience.

“Those glowing stones gave life to the water,” Silco explains, his voice gentle and filled with patience that makes something hurt inside of your chest. “Remove the stones, remove the problem. The stones are very valuable as well, as you can probably imagine.”

You nod, though it’s a jerky, automatic response to his words. You hear them. You know what you saw. But your mind just refuses to accept that something like that can exist in your world.

“Are you hurt?” Silco keeps speaking to you in that low, gentle voice. You hate it. You don’t want to see that softness in him. You don’t want it to steady you or soothe you.

“I’m fine,” you manage, though you’re not certain that’s the truth. You feel like you are going to keel over at any second.

“You’re bleeding.” Jinx glides up to your side, ever the helpful little wraith, and lightly touches your arm. Sure enough, there is a gash stretching nearly from elbow to wrist on the underside of your forearm. You can’t even feel it, though you decide that’s a good thing for now.

“Get her down to the doctor, minnow.” Silco’s good eye fills with something you refuse to acknowledge as regret, possibly even worry, when he looks at the wound on your arm.

“So much for not allowing damage to your cargo,” you mutter as you let Jinx lead you below deck. She takes you to the bottom level of the ship. You pass dozens of hammocks strung up and layered over each other as well as an assortment of trunks and personal belongings.

“Do you sleep down here?” You ask her.

“I bunk on my own,” Jinx explains, but does not offer more details.

You pass three iron cells, each fitted with several pairs of shackles. They are all empty and, thankfully, look as though they’ve been empty for a while. You briefly wonder if you were meant to occupy one of the cells. Why did Silco insist on watching over you so closely when he could have thrown you down here and been done with it?

Just past the cells is a solid wall made from spare bits of wood. Though it looks sturdy enough, it’s quite slapdash. Gaps between planks allow you to see glimpses into the room beyond. The wood bulges and indents in strange ways. With a small start, you realize the wall is made of pieces of other ships. Perhaps, ships the Zaun’s Revenge attacked and scuttled while looking for goods.

There are two crude doors set into the makeshift wall.

“I sleep there.” Jinx points to one of the doors. Its placement against the wall implies that it’s the smaller of the two rooms. She points to the other door. “That leads to the laboratory. It’s best if you wait for me or the Captain to bring you down here if you ever have a need to see the doctor.”

“Oh?”

“He’s nice, usually,” Jinx shrugs. “But he gets very annoyed if his work is interrupted. He’ll always help you if you need it, though.”

Jinx raps her knuckles against the door. Through the gaps in the slats, you see warm candlelight but also some kind of glowing, purplish light you cannot envision a source for. There is no answer from inside the laboratory but that doesn’t stop Jinx from pushing in.

The room is small, though the curved hull of the ship that makes up one wall allows for a little extra space. All manner of indistinguishable items have been cleverly stored where the room comes together to form the underside of the bow.

Tucked against the curved wall is a desk cast in shadow by a tall, thin figure whose black coat seems to eat the light around him. Shelves fitted to the curve of the hull contain jar after jar of that strange purple powder. The jars glow faintly in the darkness of the room.

The man does not look up from his desk nor does he acknowledge the presence of two new people in the cramped space.

“This is where I work on projects.” Jinx taps a cluttered workbench stocked to the point of overflowing with metal bits and bobs, screws, nuts, bolts, and plenty more objects that you can’t identify. The walls around her workbench are covered in sketches and schematics, designs of a mechanical nature. You spot a page with the words ‘MAGNETIC CANNONBALL’ scrawled across the top in big, messy letters surrounded by complex equations you can’t ever hope to untangle. The sight makes you smile a little.

“Mr. Doctor, we are in need of your assistance,” Jinx chirps and taps on the bony shoulder of the man. He glances back at her with a foggy look that is somehow both dazed and focused. He wears a cloth tied around the lower half of his face in some kind of makeshift mask.

“Hm,” he grunts softly before turning around to face you fully. You bite the inside of your cheek so you do not react to the severe burns covering the previously hidden side of his face. His other eye is surrounded by scar tissue so thick he can barely open it, which doesn’t seem to matter since the eye itself is a pale, milky color. Despite that, you can still make out dark hollows under both of his eyes.

His functional eye quickly examines your body, spotting the laceration on your arm.

“What happened there?”

You open your mouth to explain, but you aren’t actually sure how you injured yourself. “I’m not sure. I fell a few times during the waterwyrm’s attack.”

The doctor’s nonexistent eyebrows shift upward. “Waterwyrm?”

“Yes, one just gave us a hell of a fight.” Jinx’s eyes spark with pride. “Nothing we couldn’t handle though. It looks like everything held up in here just fine.”

She looks toward the shelves and she’s right. Despite the viciousness of the waterwyrm’s attack, not even a single pen looks as if it’s rolled out of place.

“Good, good,” he nods, taking a step forward on spindly legs. “Come into the light, please.”

You do as you are asked, holding out your arm for him to examine. His long fingers wrap around your wrist and put the icy grip of the reaper to shame with their coldness.

“You truly did not notice that the ship was under attack Mr…Doctor?”

“I have learned how to maintain focus in even the most unlikely situations. Besides, the Captain and crew are more than capable of handling any dangers the sea flings at us.” He chuckles softly, the sound reminiscent of scraping bones, before speaking again. “Singed. Only the little one calls me Mr. Doctor.”

Singed. Surely, that is not his true name. You find yourself staring at the ruin of his face until you remember yourself and force your eyes down.

“It’s quite alright,” Singed says as he moves to one of the heavily stocked shelves and retrieves squares of pristine white cloth and two glass vials each the size of your thumb. “For all of my faults, vanity was never one of them.”

He holds up the first vial filled with clear liquid. “Clean your wound with this first and wait for the bleeding to stop.” He holds up the second vial, half filled with liquid the same vibrant purple as the powder. “This will encourage healing. I suggest you ask the Captain for assistance. It is most potent in its liquid form.”

“But what is it?” You ask softly, taking both of the vials as well as the scraps of clean cloth.

“Have you received advanced education in biology, chemistry, anatomy, pathology, and alchemy?”

Your eyes widen. “I have not.”

“Then all you need to know is that this is something that will help you.” There is a slightly condescending tone in the doctor’s voice but you don’t have the energy to let it pinch your pride.

“We call it shimmer,” Jinx says with a helpful smile.

“You call it shimmer,” Singed corrects, turning his attention back to his desk. “That is an inaccurate and purely cosmetic name.”

“It’s catching on with the crew so you should get used to it,” Jinx shrugs before ushering you out of the cramped laboratory.

“Thank you,” you call over your shoulder but Singed is already engrossed in his work once more. You follow Jinx above deck, staring at the little vial of glowing purple liquid. The crew has largely recovered from dealing with the waterwyrm. Considering the violence of the attack, it did little damage to the ship.

“Oh, rats!” Jinx groans softly, lightly placing her fingers over the glowing stones in her pocket. “I forgot to give these to Mr. Doctor.” She hurries back below deck, leaving you alone. You aren’t sure if you’re grateful for the solitude or not.

Your mind still feels caught, stretched thin over the gap between what you thought you knew and what you now know to be true. You move toward the Captain’s cabin without thinking about it.

There are stones that somehow bring water to life. You grew up listening to myths and legends from all corners of the world. While many were soaked in magic and impossibility, you also knew the ocean still held many secrets and mysteries. You just didn’t think the secrets would be so close to the myths.

Desperate for something to occupy your mind, you dig through your memories for scraps of any myth containing the waterwyrm. Nothing comes to mind. Frustrated, you push into the Captain’s cabin to find it empty. Both relief and disappointment settle like stones on your chest. You toss the stone of disappointment away and will yourself to be happy for a moment to tend to your wounds alone.

While the bed looks welcoming, you choose to perch on the desk instead. You briefly consider sitting in Silco’s chair but you can’t bring yourself to do it.

It’s…his. Somehow, sitting in that chair feels more intimate than sharing a bed.

You place the vials and the cloth on an empty part of the desk.

Heat rushes to your cheeks as the image of your hands intertwined with his, bent over the desk, as he took you from behind fills your mind. Something tugs low in your belly as the need for a distraction attempts to disguise itself as desire.

Your upper lip curls in forced disgust, but you cannot summon any anger behind the motion. You call your anger over and over, wishing to wrap yourself in it to shield yourself from the strange feelings fighting to form within you. It does not come.

With a slow, deep breath, you turn your attention to the clean cloth squares and the first vial of clear liquid. You open it and take a sniff. It’s nothing more than a simple disinfectant if your nose is to be trusted.

Singed instructed you to ask the Captain for help with the shimmer. Even if the idea of asking Silco for help was palatable, you aren’t sure you want to put shimmer anywhere near an open wound without a better understanding of what it is.

You soak one of the cloths in a small amount of disinfectant and brace yourself as you press it to your wound. The stinging pain rips through you, far worse than the pain of the injury itself.

Tears prick at the backs of your eyes and you go stone still, keeping the cloth pressed to your wound. The threat of tears has allowed a tiny spark of anger to rise. You clutch those sparks hard and throw them against the feeling your tears wish to bring forth. The sting grows until you can’t stand it anymore.

Just as you remove the cloth from your wound with a small sound of frustration and anguish, the cabin door opens.

“There you are.” Silco steps into the room and lets the door swing shut behind him. He locks it with mindless movements as his eye focuses on the sight of you sitting on the edge of his desk. Worry flickers behind his ocean eye. “What are you doing?”

“The kind doctor gave me something to patch myself up with.” You hold up the cloth as though it’s obvious. “The experience has been less than pleasant.”

“Have you ever had to tend to a wound like that before?” He asks, that horrible softness returning to his voice as he approaches you.

“I think you know the answer to that.” You try to put a little bite in your voice but fail to do so.

“Perhaps, but I’ve learned several times now that underestimating you is a foolish thing to do.” He takes the cloth from your hand without a word and frowns. “Did you dilute this at all?”

Your cheeks feel hot. “The doctor didn’t mention that I’d need to do so.”

Silco removes the seal on the water pitcher near the vanity and wets the cloth before adding a drop or two of the disinfectant. “This will get the job done and sting far, far less.”

You hold out your hand to take the cloth but he ignores it. He moves close once more and holds your injured arm in his free hand before gently cleaning the rest of the gash. The sting is still there, but its bite is far less vicious. You find that you are able to breathe with some normalcy again, though something heavy still sits on your chest.

“Ah,” Silco murmurs as he spots the vial of shimmer. “Excellent.”

“I don’t want…whatever that is,” you say quickly.

“It’s perfectly safe when administered correctly, I assure you.” He opens the vial and the cabin is soon filled with a sweet, medicinal scent that makes your nose tingle. “I use it every day.”

You tilt your head. “You do?”

He meets your gaze before bringing his fingertips to the scars around his ruined eye. “It is the only thing that keeps the infection from progressing. It dulls the pain as well. I wouldn’t be fit to man a rowboat let alone captain a vessel without it.”

“Oh.” Your gaze dips to the vial in his hand before falling silent.

Silco leans forward, bending down a little so his face is level with yours. “What, no quips? Surely, you can think of some remark to make about such a substance turning me inhuman.”

You say nothing.

“Not even a little jab at my charming personality and wonderful temperament?” There is a teasing lilt to his voice but that softness still remains.

You shake your head. You aren’t in the mood to trade barbed remarks, not that your mind would cooperate with you if you were.

Silco sighs softly and returns his attention to the shimmer vial. He moves away from you for a moment to fish something out of one of the desk drawers. You hear something clinking and glance over from the corner of your eye. He holds a small glass eyedropper, which he cleans thoroughly with the remaining disinfectant.

“This will make it easier,” he explains. “You really won’t need more than a drop or two.”

“Will…?” You start to ask but you swallow your question down, hoping he’ll be gracious enough to pretend you hadn’t spoken at all.

“Will what, treasure?” He finishes cleaning the eyedropper and dries it off before giving you an expectant look.

“Will it hurt?” The sting of the disinfectant nearly brought you to tears. Another strike of pain would be too much for you to fight through and you were not going to cry. Certainly, not in front of Silco.

“Yes, but it’s an unusual sort of pain,” he explains. “It’s intense, but it’s quick. A bit like someone flashing a bright light in your eyes unexpectedly. Your senses will feel scrambled but, like I said, it’s quick.”

He loads up the eyedropper with just two drops of the violent purple liquid and takes hold of your arm once more. He looks at you, waiting for permission. You nod.

A single shining drop falls from the end of the eyedropper onto your wound. You feel a tingling sensation for a fraction of a moment before something unlike anything you’ve ever felt before wracks through your body. Too much air is crammed into your lungs yet it also feels as though the wind has been knocked from your chest. Your veins feel as though they widening and narrowing, wriggling beneath your skin. It’s unbearable.

And then it’s gone.

You gasp hard and brace on the desk.

“Easy, treasure,” Silco’s voice tethers you to reality.

Your mind scrambles to right itself. You feel exposed, vulnerable. Your anger has failed you so you fight to call forth anything else that will shield you from the terrible weight on your chest and the tightness in your throat.

His quick hands wrap your forearm in soft, clean bandages before you have a chance to see what your wound looks like now. Already, you note the absence of physical pain.

“That wasn’t so bad, was it?” His hand comes to rest in the middle of your back. You feel the warmth of his skin through the fabric of your shirt. Tears spring forth but you quickly scoot off the desk to stand in the middle of the room, out of his reach.

“I’m rather tired.” You keep your back to him as you blink and blink and blink.

“I imagine so.” His boots thud against the wooden floor as he moves to stand behind you but he does not try to touch you again. “You’ve had quite a fright.”

Once again, you feel a tiny spark of your anger ignite but it’s not enough to catch fire and burn away the terrible feeling that creeps in around you. You are not yet in control of your emotions enough to speak, to deny his words.

“Most of the crew is in the same boat as you are, so to speak,” he says. “Waterwyrms are incredibly rare. I’ve only seen three, myself. Seeing something like that for the first time can be rattling.”

“I am not rattled,” you hiss. You clench your hands into fists to hide how much they shake as you move toward the bed. You sit down and fumble with the lacings of your boots until you’re able to shuck them off. “I’m tired.”

For a moment, Silco looks as though he’s going to press the matter. A small part of you, one that you’d like to squash beneath your heel, wishes he would.

He takes a half step back and nods. “Get some sleep, then. You’ve earned it.”

He takes a seat at his desk and goes through the motions of clipping and lighting a fresh cigar. The warm, spiced smell of it banishes the lingering scent of disinfectant and shimmer from the cabin. Something in your chest loosens, but you’re not sure if it’s a good thing.

You slip out of your breeches and crawl under the covers, pressing yourself as close to the wall as you can with your back to Silco. The only sounds in the room are the faint scratching of his pen across parchment and his soft exhales whenever he takes a puff of his cigar. It’s not enough to hold your focus.

Your mind begins to spin again. Your heart slams against your ribs but you tell yourself it’s nothing more than your body responding to the shimmer.

You are not rattled. You are not frightened. You can handle this. You have handled everything life has flung cruelly into your path and you will continue to do so. You will remain in control, just as you always have.

But you know that’s not true. The words float through your mind like a lullaby despite the threat they pose to your quickly fracturing resolve. It’s never been true.

It becomes harder to keep your breathing slow and even. That horrible feeling continues to tighten its grip around your throat, growing stronger and stronger until you fear you won’t be able to break loose. You won’t be able to keep it at bay. You’ll have to feel it and know the truth of it.

You are not rattled. You are not frightened.

You’re terrified.

And the moment you let yourself feel that terror, you’ll be lost.

Fear claws at your throat and sits on your chest, prepared to suffocate you. Already, you can feel it seeping through your skin and stealing your breath.

Fear has come for you before, but you fought it off. It pounced on you the day your mother died but you evaded it, letting grief shield you. It tried to ambush you again the day your father abandoned you at the family estate but your anger was so great and so fierce that fear could not touch you.

Now, your grief was a quiet, content creature resting near your heart alongside the memory of your mother. And your anger…where was it? How could it have abandoned you and left you so vulnerable?

There had to be something you could do. Fear would not reach you this time. It never had and it never will.

Not true. Not true. Not true. The words skitter across your brain, less gentle than they were before.

You fight the urge to scream, choosing to bite the inside of your cheek instead. It's no use. The truth has started to seep through the cracks of your mind and you have nowhere left to run. No place to hide.

How close will you allow yourself to come to madness for the sake of clinging to such a fragile illusion?

You only believed yourself to be capable because you had never faced a true challenge. Now that you had, now that you stared the waterwyrm in the eyes and saw death, you can no longer hide from what you are. A small, scared, stupid girl who doesn’t know a single thing about the world.

You do not have the strength or skills to survive on your own without your father’s money and protection. If you fled your engagement, you might as well forfeit your life. If you allowed yourself to be caged within the gilded bars of marriage and societal expectations, you would never feel alive again.

One way or another, death surrounds you. It does not matter if it’s a death of your body or a death of your spirit. Both are equally devastating in your eyes. There is no escape.

You bite the inside of your cheek hard enough to taste blood as you keep fighting the cold sense of fear that tries to wrap you in its embrace. You can’t give in to it. You can’t allow yourself to feel it. You’d never be able to pull yourself out if you did. You don’t bother trying to call on your anger to help you keep fear at bay. You realize now that it did not abandon you. You’ve simply burned it all up.

Only the faintest scrap of pride allows you to hold yourself together. If you are going to fall apart, it will not be on this damn ship surrounded by these damn pirates.

You are so caught up in your own mind that you do not realize Silco has moved until you feel the bed shift beside you. You stay still, pretending to be asleep, not that it matters. Aside from your failed attempt to bring yourself some relief last night, Silco keeps his distance from you in bed.

He shifts and rolls a bit before he seems to settle. Thinking he has fallen asleep, you allow your mind to resume its heavy task of stopping your fears from consuming you.

A hand presses against your back. Your breath catches in your throat and it takes every bit of your frayed self-control to keep up the act of pretending to sleep.

“Brave girl,” comes Silco’s soft whisper, so quiet you are unsure if you were meant to hear those words or not.

Warmth spreads across your back, radiating from his palm. If you focus, you can feel the shape of every long, thin finger. It may be exhaustion, the shimmer, or the fact that you had your toe over the line of madness just a moment ago but you swear you feel him pressing against your back with every breath you take. His movements, if he’s moving at all, are slow and faint. When you feel him press, you extend your exhale. When he lightens the pressure, you inhale. Over and over until your breathing slows and your heart calms.

The urge to check if he’s awake or say his name gently pulls at you, but you let it pass. The peace of this moment is a fragile, hard-won thing that you aren’t ready to give up. Besides, if he actually is asleep and this is all in your head, you’d rather keep that to yourself. You continue to breathe slowly, focused on the way his hand feels against your back, and eventually allow sleep to take you.

********

When you wake, you roll over to find an empty bed. You open your eyes, expecting to see Silco sitting at his desk like he usually does but he isn’t there. A small amount of relief fills you. You’re spared from confronting him after…whatever that was last night.

Maybe you sent yourself into such a deep state of distress that you imagined it. But then that means that you imagined him for comfort, which might be worse.

Your mind still feels clouded and sluggish as you dress and leave the cabin. Above deck, the air is still and there is not a cloud in the sky. The Zaun’s Revenge bobs gently on a calm sea. To the west, you spot a strip of land but no distinguishing landmarks that might tell you where you are. Your eyes scan the deck for Silco, but you do not see him. There does not seem to be any work to be done so you head below deck to the galley.

Arlo has already started preparing for the evening meal, causing you to realize just how late you’ve slept in. You offer to help, he accepts. Soon, you are chopping onions. Your eyes burn and your mincing skills leave much to be desired, but your mind is occupied. Plus, you are learning something new. That always makes you feel better, more in control of yourself.

“You seem a bit out of sorts,” Arlo says. “Something on your mind?”

“That waterwyrm has rudely forced me to reexamine my understanding of the world and my place in it,” you answer. “It’s been horribly inconvenient.” “Oh, I see. That happened to me the first time I saw something like that. It wasn’t a waterwyrm, though. The carcass of an ushkya floated to the surface. I couldn’t believe my eyes.”

“A what?” You hope you won’t regret asking.

“An ushkya. Merfolk use them similar to the way humans use horses. They’re actually quite gentle by nature. I’ve seen a few wild ones before. Their fangs make them look scarier than they are. I’d go as far as to say they’re more docile than horses.”

Your mouth drops open. You regret asking. “I am not in a position to take in that information.”

“Fair. How are you getting along with those onions?”

“Badly, I’m afraid.” You dab at your onion tears with the back of your hand. “I hope you like a bit of a rough chop.”

“It’ll do just fine. You aren’t cooking for the Council,” he chuckles and rests an affirming hand on your shoulder. “Keep at it. I have plenty of work for you when you’re done.”

Time ticks by in the kitchen as you and Arlo take turns teaching each other things. It will be a while before he can read properly, but he knows how certain words look written down, which is an excellent start. The two of you make a plan to redo all of the labels in the scullery. Having a plan like that makes you smile. It’ll keep you occupied during the days and will hopefully make your imprisonment pass quicker.

“Ah, so is this where I can expect to find you when you vanish from the cabin?” At the sound of Silco’s voice, you are flooded with memories of his hand on your back. You can feel the pressure between your shoulders as you turn around to face him.

“If I say yes, does that mean the longboats will be left unattended?” You fire back.

“Glad to see the stress of last night has not dulled your wit. You’re going to need it.”

“Why?”

“We’re going ashore. I have to meet with an associate of mine and I know better than to leave you to your own devices.” A small smirk twitches in the corner of his mouth but it is not accompanied by the usual mean glint in his eye.

“Scared I’ll ambush you with another oar attack, pirate?” You say, moving out of the kitchen with an indifferent look though you are glad to be back in the familiar territory of banter and quick remarks.

“If I remember correctly, I was the one who snuck up on you,” he says.

“But my first instinct was still to give you a good whack,” you point out, earning a quiet chuckle from him.

“True.”

Silco starts to lead you out of the galley but you pause and look over your shoulder.

“Will you get on without me, Arlo?” you ask.

“I’ll be fine. We can start our labeling project when you return if you’re up for it.” Arlo’s gaze darts to Silco and his face pales a little bit. “With the Captain’s permission, of course.”

You turn your head and look up at Silco, arching a brow.

“Hm,” he mutters before ushering you above deck. He lowers his head so his mouth is close to your ear. “Should I be concerned by how well you are ingratiating yourself with my crew?”

“Probably,” you shrug. “Do I need to put on that beloved harlot costume again?”

“Beloved indeed,” he chuckles lowly. “But no. Port Squawkfeather is not quite as…colorful as Port Fairna. You are perfectly fine as you are. Unless, of course, you secretly liked playing the harlot and wish to do so again.”

“Hold your breath and find out.” You smile sweetly before turning your attention to the port in question.

“Ever the charmer.” Silco stands by your side as the Zaun’s Revenge docks and the gangplank is lowered.

Despite its unusual name, Port Squawkfeather looks orderly and clean for a pirate haven. From what you can see, there is some form of authority patrolling the docks and the shore. They bear a discreet insignia that looks strikingly similar to a waterwyrm.

The small port town is clustered on a spit of land between a narrow, pebbly beach and sandstone rock formations that vary in height. A few structures stand on plateaus scattered across the cliff faces, but most of the buildings appear to be concentrated around the mouth of the port.

“What business do you have here?” You ask, glancing at Silco from the corner of your eye. You don’t expect an answer but you can’t help but ask. Silco is certainly making quite a few stops for someone with a valuable hostage underfoot.

“I’m sure you recall the blue stones that served as the waterwyrm’s eyes. I plan to sell them. They are extremely valuable,” he replies. “Even more valuable than you.”

“I am worth less than a pair of glowing rocks?” You scoff.

“These are not just rocks. The power they contain is unlike anything else in the world. Those stones contain pure arcane energy.”

“And you would sell them to the highest bidder?” You arch a brow.

“Of course. I do not have the resources to harness their power myself so I may as well make a profit from them.”

He offers his arm, which you take, and the two of you disembark.

“Are you going to make me sit in your lap in a dingy tavern again?” You ask.

“No,” he replies. “You aren’t wearing a skirt. I won’t be able to have any fun.”

His words bring a hot blush to your cheeks. You fix your gaze straight ahead and hope he does not notice. Once more, you feel the ghost of his hand on your back, guiding you through your breaths.

The entrance of the docks feeds into a well-maintained dirt road that leads right to a lively market. Instead of walking down that road, Silco cuts to the left and walks along the shore for a time.

“I hope you can handle a small climb, treasure,” he says before turning off the path onto a thin trail that snakes up the side of a sandstone formation. “I won’t carry you if you feel faint.”

“I’d rather be left in the dust than rely on you to carry me,” you reply, though a touch of worry reaches your heart. You nibbled on a few things while assisting Arlo, but you haven’t had a proper meal since last night’s dinner.

The trail isn’t steep but it snakes back and forth along the side of the cliff, carrying you higher and higher with each twist. The trail dips into a valley dotted with scraggly bushes before traveling up the side of another sandstone formation.

Sweat breaks out across your forehead and your throat feels scratchy and dry, but you don’t say anything. Silco doesn’t seem to be any worse for wear. It’s unlikely he has anything on his person that can relieve your discomfort so there is no point in opening yourself up to ridicule, especially after he saw you in such a vulnerable state last night.

It is a hot day and the air is dry. Your legs ache from walking at an incline for so long. As much as you want to ask Silco for a moment to stop and catch your breath, you push onward.

Each step gives you a frail sense of reassurance.

You aren’t weak. You aren’t helpless. You’re capable.

Even as your lungs burn and sparks tease the corners of your vision, you take comfort in your ability to keep pushing.

You are resilient.

The panic brought on by the waterwyrm was a fluke. A perfectly reasonable lapse in judgment, all things considered.

You are fine. You have always been fine. You will continue to be fine.

Is there not something better than fine? That wicked little voice whispers to you but you shut it out. Now is not the time. You must focus all of your energy on not collapsing on this forsaken trail.

“Steady now, treasure. Our destination is atop the plateau, just there.” Silco seems a little out of breath himself when he gestures to where the path curves just up ahead.

“I’m perfectly fine,” you reply, ignoring the slight wheeze in your voice as you speak. If Silco noticed, he has enough grace to refrain from commenting on it.

You round the bend and the land flattens. Straight ahead, the path extends into a flat stretch that overlooks the port below and the ocean beyond. To the left, there is a small, slapdash house that looks to be made of driftwood, thatch, and other salvaged materials but that isn’t what captures your attention. The trees surrounding the home are filled with brilliant-colored parrots. Their feathers are a deep ruby shade that almost seems unnatural. They chitter and squawk as you and Silco approach. They fix you in their beady gazes but do nothing.

Now you know how Port Squawkfeather got its name.

“Who, exactly, are we meeting?” You ask, moving a little closer to Silco.

“An old associate of mine,” Silco says.

Just before he knocks on the door, another parrot flutters over and perches on a specially-made stand near the door. Unlike the others, this parrot is a deep azure, blue as the sea.

“Oooh, visitors!” It screeches as it flaps its wings. “Get your ass out here, ya drunk!”

“Good heavens,” you chuckle softly at the bird. “I wonder where he learned to say such a thing.”

“You’re about to find out, treasure.”

The door to the driftwood cabin flings open and in the doorway stands the oddest man you have ever seen. Spindly legs support a bloated belly that leads to narrow shoulders and skinny arms. He wears a shirt of bold coral splashed with an assortment of random, vibrant colors that resemble tropical blooms. A hat of woven straw sits atop his head, blocking the sun from a leathery face and brilliant blue eyes that are almost white. He also wears trousers shorn choppily to knee-length. On his feet are sandals that look to be made of the same material as his hat.

“Captain Jimmy,” Silco says with a sense of familiarity and a warm smile. “You haven’t aged a day.”

“Damn right, I haven’t!” The man cackles. When Silco extends his hand for a shake, Captain Jimmy pulls him into a tight hug. “Glad to see you aren’t dead, my lad!”

You bite back a laugh at the display. Silco looks like a cat that has just been doused with cold water.

“I could say the same to you.” His discomfort is palpable and you see no reason to intervene. The azure parrot makes a squawking noise that sounds like a human chuckle. You glance at the bird with a fond smile. It gazes back at you as if it can read your thoughts. Its gaze is so intense that you find yourself looking away.

Silco has managed to extract himself from the eccentric man’s embrace. “I’m not here on a social call, I’m afraid. I have something for you.”

“Oh?” Captain Jimmy raises a bushy grey brow before sliding his gaze over to you. “Well, she’s pretty but I don’t deal in that sort of trade. You know that.”

“Oh! No,” Silco shakes his head and stammers. “Not her. She’s a different sort of investment.”

You huff with indignation at his choice of words but say nothing.

“I’d prefer to discuss this inside,” Silco presses.

“Shady deal! Shady deal!” The azure parrot screeches.

“Hush now, Barnaby!” Captain Jimmy snaps. “I know damn well Captain Silco brings me nothing but shady deals. You needn’t insult me by stating the obvious.”

The parrot looks abashed. You did not know a parrot could convey such an expression.

“Come in,” Captain Jimmy steps to the side and ushers you and Silco into his home.

The inside of the small home reminds you of Silco’s cabin. It is crammed to the gills with interesting baubles, trinkets, and artifacts.

You try to hide your surprise when Captain Jimmy waits for the blue parrot, Barnaby, to fly into the sitting room. The parrot settles on a perch in the corner of the room.

“You look thirsty, lass,” Captain Jimmy says to you. “May I offer you a refreshment?”

“That would be lovely, thank you,” you say, summoning your most charming smile. Once Captain Jimmy has moved out of sight, you turn to Silco. “You should take notes in regards to manners.”

“Oh, I think I’ve been more than generous with you, treasure,” he murmurs with a glimmer in his eye. “At least, that’s the impression I got when you screamed my name-”

“Hush!” You snap just before Captain Jimmy returns carrying two hollowed-out coconuts.

“One for you and one for me, lass,” he grins, showing off several missing teeth.

“You’re too kind,” you say as you take in the fruity fragrances of the drink he offered. You take a sip and can’t help but sigh at the sensation of sweet flavors exploding on your tongue. “Oh, this is lovely! What is it?”

“A carefully curated and blended assortment of fruit juices from the surrounding land. Though it looks rather barren, this place is a treasure trove of natural wonder.” “Oh, I’m sure,” you nod as you take another deep sip of the delicious juice. “I can’t imagine those parrots would stick around otherwise.” Through the window, you can see clusters of ruby-red parrots chirping at each other and fluttering their striking wings.

“True enough!” Captain Jimmy cackles. “Shame I can’t get rid of this one.” He jerks a thumb toward Barnaby, who fluffs up his feathers as though he’s heard every word.

“Old bastard,” Barnaby croaks.

“Waste of poultry,” Captain Jimmy fires back.

Before you can comment on the odd exchange, Silco speaks up.

“As much as I’d like to chat, I am here for a reason.” He reaches into his coat pocket and produces a pouch. You recognize the faint blue glow bleeding through the fabric. “What sort of trouble have you brought me now?” Captain Jimmy grumbles as he sets down his hollow coconut. You sip at your drink while Silco spills the two glowing blue stones into his palm.

“We ran into a waterwyrm and got these for our trouble,” he says. “Any chance you can give me gold in exchange for them?”

Captain Jimmy thinks for a moment before shaking his head. “No gold but I have a decent trade, I believe. Let me see.” He gets to his feet and walks toward an empty wall before pulling down a sheet of canvas covered in writing. There is so much information and you struggle to understand what you read.

You see a list of creatures listed out in a neat collum, the waterwyrm among them. When it is all laid out in front of you, you understand. The night in the tavern at Port Fairna, you believed Silco and his associates to be speaking in code. Now, you realize you were mistaken. Every mythical creature you heard mentioned that night is plastered on the canvas in front of you. If the waterwyrm is real, you cannot deny that the others must be real, too.

So, what does that make Silco? Is he a pirate? Does he poach creatures of myth for money? Is he more than that? Is he less than that?

“They’re all real?” You murmur softly, more to yourself than either of the men as you take another refreshing sip of the sweet juice.

“All these?” Captain Jimmy responds, rapping his bony knuckles against the canvas sheet. “Of course!” He shoots Silco a withering look. “Have you taught her nothing?”

“She has a talent for learning things on her own,” Silco replies.

You are too caught up in reading the list of creatures to throw a verbal barb back at Silco. At first, you’re pleased that you recognize most of the creatures listed from studying various mythologies but you quickly withdraw your enthusiasm.

After witnessing the waterwyrm, nothing should give you much of a shock but seeing just how many fairytales are actually true makes you feel uneasy. That horrible feeling of uncertainty and imbalance squeezes at your throat again. Your breath comes a little quicker but you hide it by taking quick sips of your drink. You feel lightheaded but you are determined to breathe through it.

“Would you like another drink, lass?” Captain Jimmy offers.

“Yes, thank you,” you say. “It is quite a trek to get to your hidden abode.”

Captain Jimmy takes your hollow coconut to refill it. When he’s out of sight, Silco places his hand over yours.

“Are you alright?” He asks.

“Just tired. Out of breath. I’m not used to walking over such challenging terrain,” you say. Silco’s good eye narrows just a touch and you can tell he doesn’t fully believe you. Before he can press the matter, Captain Jimmy returns.

“Here you are, lass. Careful now,” he cautions. “Few can handle more than three servings of my juice.”

“Why is that?” You ask before taking a long sip, allowing the sweetness to settle your nerves.

“Well, I mix it with the most potent rum found west of Ionia,” he replies. “It’s not for the faint of heart nor drink.”

You swallow your last swig and summon a smile. “Is that so? I can’t taste anything other than fruit juice.”

“That’s the trick of it,” Captain Jimmy lets out a wheezing laugh. “It sneaks up on you.”

“May we return to business, please?” Silco cuts in, a soft snarl in his voice. You fall silent, more than happy to let the attention move away from you.

Barnaby flutters over, his wings creating small gusts that send your loose hair flying.

“Drink up, pretty one,” he chitters. “Drink up!”

“You are a very clever bird,” you murmur to him. “Do you like to be pet?”

“Pretty lady pet pretty bird.”

“Oh, I see,” you chuckle softly and run a fingertip over Barnaby’s sapphire head. He rumbles softly as you lavish affection upon him.

“I don’t have enough gold to buy a mermaid’s wish, but I can arrange a trade.”

At the word mermaid, you return your attention to the conversation between Captain Jimmy and Silco. Silco’s upper lip twitches as he shakes his head.

“I need gold, Jimmy. I can’t go through the trouble of trade after trade,” he says.

Captain Jimmy frowns. “Then I can’t help you today, old friend. I can check up on some old contacts but you know that will take time.”

Silco goes silent for a moment. He looks at his hands as he appears to be lost in thought. After a while, he looks up. “No trades, but I will leave one wish with you and see if I can’t put the other to use.”

“Wish?” You blurt without thinking.

Silco turns to you with an expression of annoyance. “I’ll explain it later, treasure. Finish your drink. There is no reason to linger here.”

“Are you sure?” Captain Jimmy says. “You look like you could use a drink, Silco.”

“You aren’t wrong, but now that you’ve given my companion two servings of your special juice, I need to ensure she gets back to the ship safely.”

“I’m fine!” You protest with a frown.

“Oh? Stand up for me,” Silco challenges.

With a haughty sigh, you do as he asks. The moment you are standing tall, the world spins. You wobble and make several futile attempts to right yourself before Silco reaches out to steady you.

You are thoroughly drunk. That damn juice was more deceptive than your captor.

“What is it with pirates and their inability to offer any drinks that aren’t spiked with something or other?” You grumble as you finish off the last of your drink. You’re already sauced. There is no sense in letting it go to waste. You do not wish to be a rude guest.

“Why do you keep drinking things without checking to see what’s in them? That seems like the better question from where I stand,” Silco says.

“I never had to think about that until now,” you huff.

“She’s a bit of a mess, isn’t she?” Barnaby asks, looking at Captain Jimmy with an almost human level of intelligence.

“What did that bird just say?” you whisper to Silco. The rum obviously had more of an effect on you than you realized.

“You’re a mess,” the blue parrot repeats.

“Now, see here-”

“Treasure, you do realize you’re about to argue with a parrot, right?” Silco gently takes hold of your chin and redirects your gaze so you are looking into his eyes.

“Right,” you stammer, giving your head a little shake. “You’re right. I apologize.”

“You’re fine, lass. The rum is strong and Barnaby likes to provoke,” Captain Jimmy says before turning to Silco. “I’ll contact you if I get any gold for your mermaid’s wish. Don’t hold your breath, though. Very few have that kind of gold.”

“You know me, Jimmy. I always have to try,” Silco says. “Besides, I still have the other one. I can make something of this.”

“If anyone can, it’s you. Heading out, I suppose?”

“I should get this one to a place where she can’t get into trouble,” Silco says, giving you a gentle nudge.

“Let the pretty mess stay,” Barnaby squawks before landing close to you. You reach out and gently pet his head. He blinks slowly and leans into your touch.

“We have to catch the tide,” Silco says. “I’ll be in touch, Captain.”

“Of course!”

Captain Jimmy waves you off with a flourish as Silco helps you down the trail leading away from the slapdash homestead.

“Is it just me or is something off about that parrot?” You whisper as you lean on Silco, allowing him to guide you.

He looks over his shoulder and takes a few more steps before whispering back to you, “just between you and me, I think Barnaby is a man trapped in a parrot’s body.”

You look up at him with wide eyes. “You’re joking, surely.”

“He’s always been more vocal than the other parrots and he doesn’t seem to mimic phrases. Captain Jimmy specializes in trading rare goods. A parrot with the intelligence of a man would fall into that category.”

“Oh, that makes me uneasy.”

The sandstone landscape pitches and you cling to Silco to keep yourself upright. “Why didn’t you warn me about the juice?”

“Honestly? I figured you needed a drink after your ordeal last night. I didn’t think you’d gulp it down and asked for seconds. That’s not very heiress-like of you.”

“I was parched after the trek up here!” You protest. “Of course, I was thirsty.”

Silco chuckles and shakes his head. “You’re right. I miscalculated. I should have said something. But how do you feel?”

You go still and pay attention to your body. Your limbs feel loose and your mind is pleasantly fuzzy. You know there are many things you should feel stressed about but you can’t bring yourself to care.

“This is a nice respite from coherent thought, I won’t lie,” you admit.

It is later in the day that you initially realized. The late afternoon sun has broken through a thin patch of clouds and now shines on the ocean, turning the water into liquid gold. You move toward the light, forcing Silco to follow you. You do not even notice the edge of the plateau until he prevents you from moving forward and pulls you closer to him.

“I would prefer it if you didn’t fall to your death, treasure,” he says, his voice low and velvety.

“How gallant,” you murmur back. Your gaze settles on the dark silhouette of the Zaun’s Revenge, bobbing peacefully against the dock. “Can I ask you something?”

“Of course.”

“Are you sure? Last time I brought up this particular subject I’m certain you envisioned all the ways you could end my life.”

“Now you’ve made me truly curious. Out with it.”

What you thought was a confident question evaporates on your tongue and you’re left scrambling for words through a fruity rum haze.

“The life you’ve given Jinx is a life I would kill to have. You, and those serving on your ship, have the freedom that so many dream of. Why would you work against that in search of what you think is a real home?”

Silco stiffens at your words and you worry you’ve pinched a nerve but he eventually lets out a long sigh.

“Why do you think we are free?” He asks.

“I spent many years at sea with my father. During those years, I felt the most free. I felt like my true self.”

“But during those years, did you not have an estate you could return to whenever you pleased?”

“Well, yes,” you answer. “But I do not like the family estate.”

“Whether you like it or not is irrelevant.” A sharp edge sneaks into his voice. “When you played at being a seafarer, there was always a safe option. You could return to a plush home filled with luxuries.”

“But I didn’t want to,” you reiterate.

“But you were also never in real danger,” Silco points out. “Jinx has no other home. She has nowhere to flee if things become too dangerous. If something happens to me, no one will go out of their way to make sure she’s okay. We need to have a place away from the ship, away from everything we do. I need to give her a home that can never be taken from her, even if something happens to me.”

A horrible sense of guilt fills you. Shame colors your cheeks as you watch the golden water dance.

“I didn’t think of it that way. I’m sorry,” you say. When Silco says nothing for a long while, a horrible feeling makes your stomach twist up in knots. “It’s good of you to want Jinx to have a safe haven to flee to. Will my ransom go toward that?”

Your question seems to catch him off guard.

“In a way,” he answers. “There are some debts to be paid and some investments to be made, but yes. Your ransom will put us closer to a safe home.”

“And the stone eye from the waterwyrm? What will that do for you?” You ask.

“Eventually, Captain Jimmy will find someone prepared to pay its worth in gold. I expect that will take months, even years. But those profits will go towards making a safe haven for me and mine.”

“But there are two stones. What will you do with the other one?”

Silco looks down at you with a faint smile. “I think you’ve had a little bit too much rum to worry about my trade. We need to head back to the ship. We already docked far later in the day than I would have liked.”

“You’re avoiding my question.”

“Yes, I am,” he grins as he guides you back down the trail. He keeps you close as you navigate the winding path, hugging the sandstone formation. You wobble and trip over your own feet often but he never gives you grief for it. At most, he chuckles and tucks you under his arm more securely.

“Why did you call those glowing stones mermaid’s wishes?” You ask.

“Just focus on putting one foot in front of the other, treasure,” Silco urges. “I can’t have you tumbling down a canyon. It’s bad enough you were injured when the waterwyrm made its appearance.”

“Oh, do you care about me, pirate?” You taunt.

“If I have to trek through a valley to find you when you fall victim to your carelessness, I’ll have to carry you back to the ship. If I have to do that, I’ll miss the opportunity to scope the market. That’s bad for business. I dislike practices that are bad for business.”

“Lucky for you, I enjoy exploring markets more than I enjoy falling into valleys,” you say, though you need his constant support as you navigate the thin trail toward Port Squawkfeather.

The sun is just barely kissing the horizon when you and Silco reach the market. He browses silently with a look of deep concentration nestled between his furrowed brows. You stay quiet, not wishing to interrupt him as you take in your surroundings.

As you pass a table filled with exotic fruits, Silco stops. He picks up a pomegranate and inspects it as though he were assessing a diamond.

“One crate, please,” he says to the shopkeeper, who looks both shocked and delighted at such a request. They quickly set about packaging an entire crate of pomegranates while you stare at the one Silco holds in his hand.

Pomegranates are your favorite. Your rum-addled mind can’t conjure a more enticing prize.

“Here, treasure.” Silco tosses the pomegranate to you and you manage to catch it. You bring it to your chest like some greedy little scavenger as he gives the vendor the information they need.

You marvel at the color of the fruit like it’s some kind of precious jewel. You are so absorbed in your examination that your mind barely registers the flash of pink in the corner of your eye.

You go still. You lift your gaze. You turn your head slowly until you spot someone familiar.

Violet. Captain Vander’s first mate. You recognize her hair and her steely demeanor. She does not face you directly, but she is clearly searching the market for signs of you. She must have seen the Zaun’s Revenge docked and idle.

Beside her is a slender young woman with a shiny sheet of deep blue hair. She clutches a pristine rifle in her hands as she scans the market with sharp eyes.

For a split second, you prepare to call out to them. They can take you back to Vander, back to your father. But the words get stuck in your throat.

You look at Silco as he arranges for the crate of pomegranates to be delivered to his ship. You hear his words about wanting a safe place for Jinx echo through your mind. Your ransom will help with that.

“Captain,” you murmur softly. Your tongue feels like lead as you tug on his sleeve.

“Treasure?” He looks at you, arching a brow.

“I…feel ill from that juice. I’d like to return to the ship, please.”

His ocean eye fills with sympathy before he gives you a quick nod. He gives instructions to the fruit seller before tucking you under his arm and guiding you back toward the docks.

“I shouldn’t have let you have that second drink,” he says quietly.

“I’m sure I’ll be fine,” you say. “Perhaps Arlo can funnel some solid food into my system and give me some water.”

“I’m sure he can,” Silco nods.

You are returned to the ship and quickly disappear below deck. You flee to the galley under the guise of helping Arlo, as you promised. You do just that, but as you work on making new labels for everything in the scullery, you can’t help but wonder if you made a mistake not seizing your chance to escape. Worse than that, you wonder why you didn’t want to seize such a chance in the first place.

#silco #arcane #silco x reader #arcane silco #silco arcane #silco fanfic #pirate!silco #silco fic #to the depths #silco smut

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angelltheninth · 2 years

Text

Divine Desire

Pairing: Silco x Fem!Reader

Tags: nsfw, smut, blowjobs, dirty talk, office sex, chair sex, Shimmer use, dominant Silco

Word count: 1.5k

Ao3

A/N: Time for Silco smut!

As soon as you entered Silco's office you took a look around and above, scanning the room for Jinx. As grown up as she might be you really don't want to expose her to anything you're planning on doing with her dad right now. Once you confirmed that the coast was clear you clicked the door and locked it behind you.

Silco, sitting back in his chair, with a cigar in one hand and a paper in the other craned his head, looked at you from the corner of the paper and arched an eyebrow in mild confusion, "May I help you darling?"

You grinned, walking towards him with a deliberate sway of your hips, "Depends."

A small smile pulled on the corner of his lips, "On what?"

"On how much time you've got." You leaned down, your lip inches from his and pushed on his chest to make room for yourself between him and his desk.

"For you? All the time you want." He lets the papers fall on the desk, reaching down to pet your head as he takes a drag of his cigar before putting it out, "What prompted this? Did I leave you unsatisfied this morning?"

"Not at all. You did such a good job with me that you left me no time to take care of you." You remembered the way he dismissed your offer when he realized what time it was. It was only natural that you wanted to return the favor, "What kind of future wife would I be if I didn't give you everything that you give to me?" You pushed your knee onto the chair and between Silco's legs, against his groin.

He hissed and closed his eyes for a brief moment. "I can see why you'd think so, but you already gave me more than I could ask for. You don't need to-" His next words became a strained moan as he watched you get down on your knees and start to unbuckle his belt.

"I don't need to. I want to. Don't you?" You could see by the lust expressed in his eyes, and the subtle but definitely there throbbing of his dick when you palmed at it through his underwear, that he more than wanted it. "How do you want me then? Tell me." You offered yourself to him fully, ready to do whatever he asked. It felt nice, to be able to let go when you're usually trying to rein in the patrons of the Last Drop.

"You can start by putting that mouth to a good use." The shift in his tone and expression was almost chilling, it would be if you didn't know him so well. From warmth and comfort to cold, hard and commanding. "After all, I'd be very rude for me to refuse when you went out of your way to do this for me."

You smile up at him, your eyes half hooded and dark as you take his cock out, wrapping your hand around the base and pumping upwards slowly, gradually getting him to full hardness while never breaking eye contact with him. His hands grip the hand rests when you lick along the length, coming up the tip and giving it a small, brief suck.

You kept your tongue on his cock, alternating between licking and flicking at the tip. Silco groaned, his hand guiding your head further down, not all the way but enough for a good part of his length to be enveloped in wet warmth of your mouth.

With your hand you worked him up and down while keeping most of your attention on the cockhead, licking up any pre that made it's way onto your tongue.

Even though it was a little awkward with just one hand you managed to unbutton your pants and slip your hand into your panties. It didn't leave you much room to move but it was more than enough to get you worked up, to get you ready for him.

"You say you're doing this for me, but you want it just as much don't you?" You hummed in agreement, slowly bobbing your head, making sure to suck hard on the tip whenever you pulled up. "Well I certainly appreciate the honesty darling. Just for that I'll give you my cum in two holes." Just him saying that made more of his cum flow, smearing on your tongue, "Lean your head back and keep your mouth open."

With a tiny noise of complaint you pulled away, licking the tip one more time for good measure. His eyes found yours, a hand joining yours as you jerked him off until his climax sent white hot cum across your tongue and face. You opened and closes your mouth for a second to lick it up but more kept coming.

"I can never get enough of seeing covered in my cum. You wear it so beautifully." His thumb pressed against the corner of your lips, wiping the cum and pushing it inside your mouth. You latched into his finger immediately, sucking hard and fast, bobbing your head faster than when you sucked his dick.

"I can wear it in other places too." Just showed him your slick fingers. Silco smirked and leaned in, mimicking you, suck your fingers free of your cum, spreading your fingers in a V shape with his tongue and licking in between them.

"You can indeed. Why don't we see how well." He pulls you up, tugging your shirt upwards to press little, almost ticklish kisses across your stomach while his hands pull your pants and panties down, thumbs and fingers pressing into your hips and easing you into his lap. His mouth goes upwards to your neck, your cheek, your mouth. "Shimmer?" He offers as he reaches for a vile of glowing purple liquid stashed away in the stacks of paper and books littering his desk.

You looked at the vile and placed it between the two of you, "We can share." Silco chuckled. Of course, he loved sharing with you, especially when you told him your preferred method of doing so.

While he fidgeted with the cap in the vile you eased yourself on his dick, sighing from the pleasant stretch of your cunt, bending your knees around his sides. He was just about to take a sip when you bottomed out on him, "Don't make me drop this all over my shoes or I'll make you lick it off."

"Doesn't sound bad to me." As a show of that you rolled your hips right as he tried to drink the Shimmer again. You could barely stifle a laugh when he sighed, "It's fun to mess with you sometimes, I can't help myself." You shrugged and this time held totally still, even as Silco kept glancing over at you while he leaned his head back and emptied the vile into his mouth.

The vile was dropped after that, clanking onto the floor as he cupped your face and brought you in for a kiss. Greedily you drank the Shimmer he shared with you, feeling it coursing through your body like fire and thunder. You held onto each other as you felt the inevitable hit shake you to your cores, with Silco drilling his hips into yours to dull the pain.

Your head spun as he gripped your ass tight, further driving you downwards to slam onto his cock. You held onto his shoulders, shaking with both pleasure from him ramming himself inside you at increasingly rapid speed and from the dull but still persistence ache of the Shimmer running through you.

"Very good sweetheart, you're doing so good. Just a little more, I want to feel you, fuck, hold on to me." Silco grunted and heaved you both forward, pushing you on your back on his desk, filling the room with sounds of your combined moans. With one last thrust he went still, then rigid on top of you as he let his cum flow into your cunt, filling you up. Your own climax came only moments after, crashing and blending in with Silco's.

"Shit. Should have thought this through. I don't think I can pull out right now." All of his unread papers were right under you. "Fuck."

You cupped his face and laughed at the frown forming on his face, "Never a dull moment with you is there?"

"I certainly hope not." He leaned back in a gave you a slew of little kisses on your neck, jaw, all the way up to your forehead where his lips lingered., "I think I needed this to clear my head." Well with everything seemingly going wrong out of nowhere all of a sudden you're really not surprised.

A minute goes by in silence, with the two of you exchanging soft touches, looks and kisses.

"Are you two done being gross in there?!" Jinx's voiced pierced through the bubble of comfort you've built like a knife, "Seriously I need my blueprints!"

You sighed while Silco only laughed, "Your daughter is an odd one."

"She'll be your daughter too someday soon. Better get used to it. Now let's make ourselves presentable before she decides to blast through the door. Again." No one ever said that marrying Silco wouldn't come with it's own kind of craziness, but that only reaffirmed what you already knew. Never a dull moment with that man.

#arcane #arcane x reader #silco #silco x reader #silco smut #league of legends #arcane fanfic #silco fanfic #arcane smut #league of legends fanfiction #league of legends smut #silco x female reader

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margoisthemoon2 · 9 months

Text

Uhhhhh here is the 🌽 Masterlist of the smuts i wrote… ENJOY!!!!

18+ MINORS DENIED 🔞🔞

HOBIE🇬🇧

https://twitter.com/

MIGUEL O’HARA 😈

https://twitter.

SILCO 👁️

https://twitter.com/

VIKTOR🩼

https://twitter.com/

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silcoitus · 6 months

Text

Bricked Up

Rating: Explicit—Minors DNI

Silco x f!reader, Smut, reader is stuck in a wall, blowjob, fingering (female receiving), sex as payment,

Word count: 4.4k

Based on this gorgeous art by @ivyunleashed

No betas, we die like reader's dignity

After managing to escape a group of Firelights, you find yourself stuck. In a wall, to be precise. And who is it that finds you in such a vulnerable position but your boss, Silco?

Read on AO3

A/N: If there's enough interest, I've certainly left it open for a part two. Maybe some hurt/comfort for Reader's cuts? And some Silco cock with prolonged eye contact???

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

Join my taglist!

#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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medic-simp · 8 months

Text

Subby!Silco Headcannons 😋

Content Warnings: Subby!Silco, GN!Reader, oral (reader receiving), oral (male receiving), fingering (reader receiving), p in v/a sex, begging, dom/sub, edging, pegging/Silco getting fucked, cum permission

Obviously NSFW below the cut!!

• To cut to the chase, giving head is undeniably one of his his favorites, there's nothing quite like it.

• Your ass hanging off his desk and his head buried between your thighs, he'll stay there for hours.

• Orgasm after orgasm he begs you to let him keep going, to taste you more.

• "Please, sweetheart, one more. Please please please, I know you're so tired but I just need more of you, this is the last one. Mmm, god, you taste so good..."

• His hands are busy as they'll ever be, one holding your thigh and the other making quick work of his cock as he edges himself through the whole thing, not cumming until after he's done with you and you tell him he can.

• He'll beg for that too.

• "Please, let me cum, please, oh- fuck! I'm so close, I did so well, will you let me cum?"

• He loves to finger you, to watch you squirm when he crooks his fingers just the right way; he certainly loves hearing you call out his name and praise him for his work.

• Sex leaves him fucked-out and it's beautiful, watching how disheveled and utterly speechless he is as you ride the life out of him or as he fucks his cum into you.

• Will beg for you to ride him, and he takes full advantage of the perks when you do, holding your chest and touching you constantly.

• Fucking him (w/ dick or strap) is a surreal experience, seeing such a strong pillar of Zaun leadership reduced to a twitching, horny puddle that will do anything for you to fuck him until he can't think.

• He squirms a lot, readjusting his grip on anything he can find, rutting his hips against you, there's too much energy in it for him to stop moving.

• The noises he makes are completely insane, nothing one could ever imagine coming from Zaun's Kingpin Industrialist.

• Moans and gasps, sometimes whines and higher-pitched cries, feral sobs and babblings of your name to not stop, go faster, harder...

• "Oh my god oh my godohmygod! Keep going please oh my god keep going! Just like that, make me cum, please- ah!"

• Will do anything to have your mouth on his cock, but he almost never asks for it, it's always a reward, but he loves the feeling.

• Will throat fuck you if you let him and despite the control you give him in doing so, he still only cums with permission.

• "Thank you, oh my god thank you. Ha! Do that again with your tongue p-please- oh my- fuck!"

• Calling him "good boy" induces a surprisingly physical reaction along with likely a whimper or moan, but he won't say he's your good boy.

#silco #arcane #arcane silco #silco smut #smut #headcannons #subby silco #bottom silco #sub silco

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ughthisisntright · 9 months

Text

Scandalous | Silco x Reader

Summary: Written for a prompt from @saviourofzaun

Warnings: NSFW, MDNI, 18+, p in v sex, general awfulness.

Word Count: 1,127

Heat.

Wet.

Breathing.

That’s your entire world as Silco’s lips travel down your abdomen, licking and biting and sucking seemingly every inch of your skin. All it feels like to you is fire. Little pinpricks of flame blooming everywhere, dripping down and pooling in your core. Silco knows what he's doing to you.

The shower water runs cooler as the time passes, water dripping down each of your tired, aching bodies. You’d each finished the process of cleaning yourselves and soon got lost in the sensations of your pruney fingers against each other’s skin. Your desperate whines and his soothing hums of approval echoed in the small shower stall you both occupied.

You tangle your fingers in his hair, whimpering at every connection of his lips to your smooth skin. The scar on his lip drags deliciously across your stomach. His calloused fingers dig into the flesh of your hips, pulling you down further and coaxing more delectable noises from your throat.

You feel his hard cock running against your thigh as he maneuvers your body. He returns his lips to yours in a biting kiss. Teeth and tongue. Spit and desperate gasps as his hips rut against yours for the sweet relief that the friction can bring. He moves in circles, grunting like an animal in heat as he rubs his cock against your depraved clit.

And yet, the friction isn’t enough for you.

You feel the weight of him shift off you and your eyes fly open. He brushes the hairs from his face, abdomen seemingly rippling with each wave of water that falls over him. You rake your eyes from his proud and erect cock all the way up to his one, piercing teal eye. The pupil of which was blown wide with lust. He almost seems entirely demonic with the darkness of his eyes now. A shudder of excitement shakes your body.

He wraps a hand around himself and pumps a few times, licking his lips before tilting his head back to lean against the tile of the shower. He lets out a strangled groan as his hand works over the sensitive head, thumb swiping over the very tip and then caressing back down the length. You watch as he twitches in his own hand. He then pushed himself to the hilt through the grip of his hand, his cock fully unsheathed and painfully hard.

He finally brings himself back to the moment, looking at you with a mischievous glint in his eyes. Your hunger and burning ache between your legs cause a ringing in your ears as he speaks, but you still catch the words as they drip from his lips.

“Touch yourself for me,” he breathed.

You drop to the tile just to the side of the water’s spray. You spread your legs wide, planting your feet on the floor of the shower. You spread your pussy lips wide for him. He looks down on you with his mouth agape and chipped teeth bared ever so slightly. You slide two delicate fingers over your sensitive slit, letting out a short whimper. You dip your fingers into the slick of your weeping hole and drag it up and over your clit.

The whole time, Silco is gripping his cock with a concerning amount of force. You notice how his jaw clenches and releases every so often. Almost in time with the small circles you draw on your clit. You look up at him, eyes lidded with pleasure, and bite your lip sensually. Shit, you look straight out of a porno.

Your nipples stiffened to little peaks, chest heaving, and fingers working diligently and delicately over your cunt. You grunt and whine as you pick up the pace slightly. You know he wants you to cum for him like this. And you know he’s going to cum for you like that. It’s all a lustful dance you’re doing.

You’re the one to let out the first cry of pleasure. Silco had been holding back since your first swipe over your folds. He chuckles darkly in response to your outburst. You can only feel the bass of his voice reverberating off the walls of the shower, the deep tone making even the slightest bit of vibration for your throbbing pussy. You whimper softly and very aggressively plunge two fingers inside yourself.

“Holy shit,” you gasp.

“Just like that, my lovely,” he coaxes. “I love watching you fuck yourself.”

You can feel your end rapidly approaching. You always know how you want it, after all. Both hands working inside of you and your clit, you bump your head back against the wall and let out another unbridled cry of ecstasy. Silco has taken to pumping himself aggressively, fucking his fist more than he was jerking himself off.

Silco’s ragged breaths can be heard now over the running of the water. You can feel the little synapses of pleasure beginning to fire off. Heat gets closer and closer to the tip of your fingers. Silco’s hips snap sharply against his hand. You’re both close.

But at the last second, a move you don’t expect, he drops down to his knees. The water beats against his back as he flips you onto your knees. Your fingers leave your cunt and are quickly replaced by his aching cock.

He grips your hips tightly, setting a relentless pace as he fucks into you from behind. On all fours in the shower, you’re no good for anything except bumping back against his hips as he ruins you. You then feel him bend over your back, a hand snaking around to rub and pinch at your clit. At the new sensation, you shriek in pleasure. Your release comes tumbling ever nearer, slick walls squeezing his cock with every drag.

His breath hitches, his hips stutter, and his grip falters as he thrusts inside you one last time, buried to the bottom, and shoots thick, hot spurts of his cum deep inside you. You cum as he pulses inside you, shuddering and whining as wave after wave of pleasure wash over your still-tired body. White-hot pleasure clouds your vision as your arms give out. Silco is quick to respond, catching you before you fall face-first against the tiles.

And then, it’s all soft towels, warm blankets, and cold water to drink. The tender way which Silco held you in bed is perfectly juxtaposed with the possessive way he looked at you in the shower. You count the circles he drew on your skin, make note of the other shapes he draws, and feel the rise and fall of his chest against your head as it lays there. You can’t remember a better feeling.

And you’d chase it as long as you lived.

#silco imagine #silco arcane #silco fanfic #lol silco #silco x reader #silco x reader smut #silco smut #arcane smut #league of legends #silco fluff #silco #silco simp #silco brain rot goes brrrr

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lullabyes22-blog · 2 months

Note

May we know Silco's approach to sex? Stroke game, technique, and so on? Love your headcanons!

We're talking swimming strokes, yes?

:')

A wise murderer once said, "There's peace in water."

He also said, "The flow is key."

NSFW

More Arcane headcanons: Here.

"Lesson the first: Variety matters."

"You aren't a piston in a well-oiled machine. You're flesh and bone. And that bone, tragically, can only take so much abuse before it deflates. So make the most of it. Start with small staccato movements, focusing on small points inside your playmate. Friction only matters on the surface. Beneath, it's all about the pressure. It's not a basic equation of in and out: it's figure eights, it's ripples, it's whorls. Gradually, as their breathing deepens, lengthen your movements. Let them move with you. Let them show you how they want it. Let them teach you what they need. They'll tell you everything necessary for their undoing. Provided you pay attention."

"Lesson the second: Speed is the enemy."

"Unless there's a fitting at the tailor's you forgot to mention, the only place speed belongs is in your knife-hand. Go slow. It's the best revenge for all the times they've left you wanting. Take their pleasure like a gift. Then peel it back, inch by inch. Tease them, just enough. Give them a taste of everything, then nothing. If you're patient, you'll strip away all their pretenses. You'll learn exactly where they live. You'll be able to touch the very heart of them. And, if they're lucky, you'll decide to leave it beating."

"Lesson the third: Be unpredictable."

"Change the mood. Change the pace. Change the game entirely. Start sweet, then turn nasty. Repeat what serves, then let it ebb into something softer. Keep them guessing; keep them coming back. Then shock them all over again. The moment their brain thinks it's getting what it wants, shake it all up. Don't ever give them what they think they want. Only what they never knew they needed. Always, always, stay two steps ahead."

"Lesson the fourth: Always get what you want."

"And always make it seem like a favor. It's the simplest way to build a sense of debt. If they can't be honest with you, they can't trust you. And without trust, you've got no leverage. So build trust like it's the bedrock of the earth, and use it. Be the good listener they've never had before. Be the person who understands them best. The one who knows their favorite food, their fears, their foibles. The more you see past their boundaries into what they hide - the more porous those boundaries become. The more they think they can depend on you, the deeper they'll let you in. Then once you're inside, once they've dropped their guard, once they can't imagine their life without you - that's when you make them give you whatever you want. All you have to do is ask. Just be sure to phrase it as a question."

"Lesson the fifth: Be present."

"You're a deep diver, remember? Pay attention to the currents. Watch the way their face contorts. Feel the way their skin shivers. Listen to the rhythm of their breaths. The body is a sea, and everything is connected. Every ripple begets a riptide, and so on. It's all a matter of reading the signs. A subtle tightening, a flicker of an eyelid, a thigh trembling - these are your treasure map. X-marks-the-spot. Follow the clues, and you'll learn to anticipate what comes next. You'll find that thing they're trying to hide, even from themselves. And once you have it, you'll know exactly what will send them over the edge. The right word, the right touch, the right thrust - and they'll come apart, utterly."

"Lesson the six: Don't be afraid to get your hands dirty."

"Or any other part of you, for that matter. Prudishness is a roadblock. Your target will never feel at ease if you act as if you're above the mess of their bodies, their fluids, their needs. You are not their Warden - there to police what's allowed or not. You're not their conscience - there to judge what's vice or virtue. You're their release. Their salvation. Their guide into the depths. And that means everything they are, you're going to get all over yourself. Their filth is the evidence of your success. Wear it proudly. Let them see how their darkness becomes your light. How their sin becomes your purity. That's what they crave, what no one else will give. They'll never feel so understood as when they're looking at you, smeared in the proof of how you've made them come apart. And then, and only then, will you take them deeper. Deeper into their desires. Deeper into their depravity. Deeper, and deeper still, until they can no longer resurface."

"Lesson the seventh: Say their name."

It's the smallest sound, and yet the most powerful. No one ever feels known, not completely. Not until they hear their own name in a lover's voice. It's what lets them inhabit the present. It's the key to their being. It's the way they'll know you've claimed their whole self, in every way. And there's an art to the way you say it. There are all kinds of voices you can use: breathy, husky, sharp, soft. Start by using it slowly. Sparingly. Wait for the exact moment their eyes glaze over, their mouth drops open, and their hips begin to shudder. Then whisper their name like it's a secret only they can know. Like you've been dying to tell them, and they're the only one who can hear. As the moment peaks, draw it out as if from the deepest, darkest well. Turn every syllable into a breath for more. Like the air itself is a blessing. The next time, they'll be the ones who beg for it. Who pray for it. They'll forget every name they've ever been called. Every name - except yours."

"Here's the eighth, and final lesson: Don't forget who you are."

"If you forget, the tide will turn against you. You're not their lover. You're not their confidant. You're not their friend. You're the water itself. It's you they're immersed in. It's you they're at the mercy of. They may try to cling to the surface. They may struggle against the waves. They may even call out for help. But it's only once they're all the way down that they'll truly let go. And, once they do, you'll be the only thing left. It's not a matter of love. It's the simple fact of gravity. Down, is where they belong."

A small smile.

"Down, where the monsters are."

#arcane #arcane league of legends #arcane silco #asks #silco #forward but never forget/xoxo #forward (never forget)/xoxo #silco headcanons #silco meta #silco headcanon #arcane headcanon #arcane headcanons #silco x reader #silco smut

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a-gal-with-taste · 2 years

Text

Busy (NSFW)

Summary: Lording over an entire underground nation can be time-consuming - you know this.

Still, you hope that Silco has enough free-time on his plate, to enjoy a little surprise you have in store.

Warnings: NSFW|MDNI. Suggested boss/employee relationship, established-relationship, nudity, wearing-nothing-under-coat, misunderstandings, groping/fondling, light fingering, Sinday is back!

Climbing up the stairs was a risk. Calculated, but you still tugged the thick fur coat tighter around you, forcing it to hug your body... and you took the last few steps double-at-a-time, just in case.

Thankfully, there were no hoots, or low whistles from any potential up-lookers on busy dancefloor below, and you were grateful.

Because there was only one reaction you wanted, and nerves faded as the grin spread across your face, when you thought of the expression he would have when he realized you came in a coat and heels...

And only, a coat and heels.

Knocking wasn't really required anymore, not for you. Though, you still tilted your ear close to the door to listen for any undesired second-party. Sevika would be a mortifying possibility, since she could see through any attempt at a poker-face, and you'd turn right back around if you heard Jinx spending time with her father.

Cold or not, you'd march straight back home if either were the case.

Only the sounds of pen scratching on paper in a curt, sharp pace was heard. And after letting out a small, sharp breath to calm any remaining nerves at what could be one of your more embarrassing ideas, you opened the door, walked in, and-

"I'm busy."

The door closed behind you, and you blinked at the sound, and at Silco. Who didn't even look up... who wasn't even wearing makeup.

You'd seen Silco without it before, but the sight still halted you more than his sharp two-word greeting did. The scars, dark and striking in the pale evening-lighting gave his face a more severe and yet vulnerable look - this wasn't a sight permitted for many, and it stunned you that he allowed you to see this.

But then his red and teal gaze snapped up to glare, and fix you with a look you imagined everyone had been victim to. "I'm busy," He said, low and stressing the word in a way that made you shiver - even though it was warmer than it was outside.

"I heard you," You confirmed, reaching back to silently flicked the lock to avoid visitors, before your heels clicked on the wooden floor as you stepped forward towards him. A small smile crossed your freshly-painted lips, and your fingers came up to brush the clasps of your coat as you stepped closer, "However... I thought that, perhaps, you wouldn't mind a break-"

"If I want something, it would be here when I require it," Silco says, voice frosty enough that you're chilled into standing in place, frozen. "I don't recall requesting your presence, nor do I require it... you may leave."

Silco always had a way with words - and you knew full-well that that 'may' was actually a 'will.'

"What happened?" You said, frowning as you stepped forward, not so much prowling seductively as it was to see what was the matter with the man. "Is there anything I can do-?"

"Yes, you can find the door," Silco snapped hotly, pen held tight between white-knuckled fingers. Your gaze darts from it, back to his gaze... one heartbeat. Then a second, third passes, before that burning iron in his gaze softened, more like hot-stones, but an improvement nonetheless.

"Is... is it the trades? Poor profits?"

"Worse - a buisness-meeting."

The pen makes an audible click when Silco sets it down, before he lets out a long-sigh as he reaches up, cradling his forehead with his fingers as a migraine announced it's arrival inside his head. "Short-notice, as well... if it wasn't something that could directly provide consequence to your other guesses, I'd be insulted it was even brought to my attention. Alas, it does require it."

"Oh," You breathed, trying not to feel disappointed... it was no secret the Eye not only watched all, but usually had hand in-all that occurred in Zaun. A full-schedule wasn't, shouldn't be much of a surprise...

Still, as you tugged the coat tight enough around you that it squeezed at the round of your bare hips, you really, really weren't looking forward to going back in the chilly night-air. "So... you really want me to go?"

The question, meant to be casual but coming out wary, caused the glowing-ember of an obsidian eye to flick between the gaps of fingers, looking at you. Again, there was a softening when he gazed as you - stone to a weaker-copper, perhaps. "Not my preference... not at all, but a necessity," Silco did sound apologetic, and firm in his more gentle dismissal, but you still felt a bit sluggish as you stepped back from the desk, dejected.

And then stepped to the side, walking around the desk towards him. There's a fiery-spark of irritation in both eyes at the clear disobedience, the green and the red, but only the green widens when your hand reached out, pressing and kneading at his shoulder gently.

Silco didn't so much soften as well as he melted at your touch, and it was only thanks to practice that you didn't immediately smile or chuckle at the sight of Silco, Eye and unofficial King of the Undercity, practically reduced to a puddle by a massaging of one shoulder - not even both.

"I hope it goes by quick, smoothly..."

"Doubtful... but your words and well-wishes are appreciated." So was your touch, you noted, as his remaining eye faltered shut and there was the faintest hum from his chest. It was a pity to have to pull away, but, slowly retracting and dragging your fingers, you made to move back... but out of habit or some touch-starved instinct, Silco's fingers snapped up to curl around your wrist.

More specifically, curling around the sleeve covering your wrist.

And that, combined with the step you had taken back and away from him, triggered a two-step chain-reaction that led to your completely bare shoulder bare to see. Which, honestly, wouldn't be so scandalous... except your face immediately heated up to the point of burning, and you scrambled to step back and fix your sleeve.

Obviously, this caught the Eye's attention.

"Is something the matter?" Silco say in an innocent tone that immediately put you on edge. "You look... ruffled." His index finger unfurled around your wrist, and shifted slightly in order to stroke the fur of your coat in emphasis, though his eyes never left yours.

"Just... it's chilly-" "I have a thicker coat you can borrow, then. Though, I imagined the one you wear now had it's uses."

Your breath, and whatever hope you had of replying, shudders in time with his fingers dragging in order to skim between the line of clothing and skin - his fingers scorched as much as your face burned, but his eyes were the worst of it. Impassive, carefully neutral, yet they were quickly melting you in place.

"Perhaps you should take this one off, dear," He mused quietly. You weren't surprise he had put two & two together, coming up with the fact that you weren't subtle, but it still sent an embarrassed flush to your already blushing-dark cheeks.

"I-i... I wouldn't want to bother, you seem busy-"

"I have time. Take it off."

Compliance, unfortunately, was a skill you possessed that Silco loved to use to the fullest extent. He didn't even have to use a commanding voice with the order - the man simply had to look at you, and say it so casually, that you didn't realize your hands were already pulling the fold of your coat apart until there was a silent, but sharp inhale from the kingpin watching.

He's, obviously, seen you nude before. Probably memorized everything there was to see, but the two-coloured gaze still dropped to rove over the skin you were exposing as you slowly peeled the coat from your form - stopping when it was just-barely off your shoulders.

Not because Silco ordered you to, but the subtle flexing of his throat when he swallowed dry at the sight, was enough to stop you still.

"... this is a surprise."

"If I known you were busy, I wouldn't have-"

"Where did you put the rest of your clothes?"

Someone probably could cook an omlette on your forehead, your face never blushed so hard as you whispered, "I... there wasn't any. I came here like this."

A thoughtful hum breaks the too-long pause, and he stands. Your hands fall limp at your sides at the first step he makes towards you, and it only takes another step before his own hands come up, long fingers replacing yours on the hem of your coat. "You seem quite mortified for someone who planned this well in-advance," He comments in a conversational tone, all the while you're struggling jot to tremble as his knuckles graze your skin, and the coat is ushered further, and further down from your body...

"Though," Warm breath tickles at your hairline - it's somehow hotter than your body has become. "I fail to see why you have any reason to be embarrassed... and I am seeing much."

The coat crumbles to the ground in a heap around your ankles, and palms are quick to replace it along your body.

Searing, burning palms that graze with biting nails - you're left gasping, but not long on air. His mouth comes up quick to replace oxygen, and even quicker to mute your squeal when his fingers find your ass as squeeze.

"You walked through the Lanes, with so much as a stitch beneath a flimsy coat. How filthy," He snarls into your mouth with a wolfish grin, one that would have your legs weak if... they suddenly weren't off the ground.

"Silco-" You gasped, legs wrapping around his waist as you were lifted, tucking your head against his shoulder with another surprise squeak as his nails digged-in your skin, before he propped you atop the desk.

"Your meeting-" "Can wait," Murmuring quietly against the shell of your ear, his faint chuckle seemed to echo in your head when you whimpered. His hands seemed eager to map out skin he already knew by-heart, palm coming up to cup your chest and knead, while long fingers took time to trace down every vertebre of your spine. "Paitence can be mastered, and perhaps this could be considered a first-lesson for my buisness partner. It can wait."

Silco, however, could not.

This is proven by how quickly, and smoothing, his hand comes to trace around your hip, and begin to dip between your thighs. This earns another shaking rasp, one that is soothed to a whimper with a kiss along your jawline, as his fingers dip and start to tease along your already wet slit-

There's a knock.

One that makes you jump, and start to slip from the desk, but both Silco's arm around your waist, and the finger dipping between to graze along your clit, forces you to remain against him as he growls, "What?"

"He's here," Sevika's voice drawls, clearly bored and a bit miffed at being intruppted from her card-game downstairs. Considering what you're doing now, you can sympathize. "Not looking happy about waiting either..."

"A pity." Silco's quiet words indeed make you sympathize with Sevika's plight of being taken from her source of enjoyment, as you imagine you're about to be in the same boat. You can't fault him from it, but as you go to creep away, you can't help but feel a spark of dejection-

A spark, that erupts into flame when he pushes his finger through your folds, curling into your pussy. Only to the first knuckle, but it's enough to make you understand that it's not a pity you have to leave - but that his buisness meeting is going to be very, very delayed.

Silco's unyielding and fiery gaze, fingers slowly beginning to pump in, out of your tight wetness, and his next words, were enough to make you whimper again as heat flashed through you:

"Tell him I'm busy."

[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 @marina-and-the-memes @masterjedilenaaa @callistotml @foppishish @dad-dumpster @nyx2021 @beef-bakery @jennithejester @the-lake-is-calling @ariaud ]

#silco x reader #arcane silco #arcane #silco #arcane fanfic #fanfic #mdni #18+#silco smut #writing #fanfiction #oneshot #drabble

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khaotic-neutrxl · 4 months

Text

wish he'd take this type of anger out on my meow meow

#release me #i want him #MEEEEOOOOWWWWW MEEEEOOWWWWW MEEEEOOOOWWWWW #he's so ugly i love him #the hand over his hair GODDDDDDDDDD #crucify me #he's so babygirl #silco #arcane silco #silco arcane #silco smut #silco x you #silco lol #silco league of legends #league of legends #he's so precious #would whoop my ass #and i'd say thank you

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cognacandlilac · 9 months

Text

To the Depths - Part Five - NSFW

(Pirate!Silco x F!Reader) The Pirate's Waltz

AO3 - Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3.1 - Part 3.2 - Part 4

Rating: Explicit/MDNI Chapter Summary: You struggle with the terms of your punishment even as you begin to win over the crew. For a moment, all is well even though you are technically a prisoner. Will the sea allow a moment of peace? Chapter Tags/Warnings: def a little nsfw but not nearly as much as other parts, nothing that hasn't been in past parts. Not beta'd bc I was too impatient to get the update posted lol *edited on 8/5 to fix mistakes that would have been caught with beta reading. There is a lesson here...*

You flee the cabin immediately without another word. Your entire body hums, rages, cries, and begs for release and you know you will not find it in that room. Something stings and burns in your chest, wrapping around your heart and squeezing tight. You’re reminded of Silco’s sea serpent tattoo but immediately shake the thought away. His body is the last thing you want to think about right now.

Especially since the ache between your legs only grows with each step. You briefly entertain the idea of finding a dark, shadowy corner of the ship to bring the relief denied you, but that thought flies out of your mind the moment you see the crew standing idle on the deck, their faces all turned toward the short stairwell you’ve just climbed. You freeze on the last step.

Before Silco dragged you back down to the cabin, you’d passionately declared for all to hear that you were the reason they had to spend the night fighting a violent storm and why thick pools of drying blood now stain the deck. No doubt you’ve made an enemy of yourself to every single person staring at you now.

You could return to the cabin but the thought of being enclosed with Silco is unbearable. You are caught between the devil and the deep blue sea. Almost literally.

Luckily, you aren’t trapped in your frozen state for long. Jinx darts into your field of vision, her eyes wide and frantic.

“You look awful ,” she says, cupping your face in her dainty hands. The coolness of her skin alerts you to just how scorching your face is. No doubt flushed, too. “I hope he wasn’t too harsh with you.”

Harsh certainly isn’t the word you’d choose to describe what just happened in his cabin. “I received the punishment I deserved for my error,” You say, hoping to avoid bringing up any particulars of that punishment, not when your ass still stung in the shape of his hand. Before Jinx can ask another question, you make your way across the deck to the poor crewmate you tricked.

“I owe you an apology.” You speak to him with the same grace and dignity you would reserve for a noble. “Tricking you wasn’t just wrong, it was cruel. If I thought for even one minute that things would turn out the way they did, I never would have done it but that does not make it acceptable.”

You bow your head and sink into a half-curtsy.

“Please, accept my sincerest apologies.”

The walleyed crewmember says nothing at first. Your cheeks grow red from embarrassment as you try to figure out what you ought to do next. He saves you from your discomfort when he lets out a loud, cawing laugh.

“All those fancy words for me, miss?” He guffaws. “In all me days I never thought a lady would speak so pretty to me.” He throws an arm around you in a friendly, but rough, manner and you straighten up to avoid falling over altogether. “So, am I forgiven?”

“Ya ran a bad scheme and it bit us all in the ass. We’ve all done it,” he assures her. “But it’s nice to know you aren’t too high and mighty to take the consequences.” Relief floods you as the other crewmates circle around. They give you approving nods, though you won’t go as far as to say they look upon you with trust or friendliness.

“Surely, the Captain requested more than just an apology,” Sevika says with a suspicious glint in her eyes.

“The apology was my own doing,” you say as you approach her. “His punishment dictates that I am to report to you. I am to clean the deck.�� Her eyebrows twitch as the corners of her mouth quiver like she’s trying not to laugh.

“I wouldn’t trust someone so soft-handed with the care of my deck but if the Captain insists…”

She trails off as she walks away. You realize you are meant to follow and hurry after her. She doesn’t offer anything by way of instruction. She tosses a bucket and a thick bristled brush towards you, which you fail to catch. The items clatter onto the floor. Your cheeks burn when you hear chuckles behind you. “Get to it,” Sevika grunts. You look at the empty bucket, noticing that it’s…well, empty.

“Where would I find water?” As soon as the words are out of your mouth, you realize your mistake. Everyone who heard begins to laugh.

“I think you can figure that one out on your own, princess,” Sevika smirks before heading below deck.

Jinx appears at your side, silent as a ghost but with the energy of a toddler who has had nothing but sweets all day.

“I rigged up a pulley system so you can fill your bucket. I’ll show you.”

She loops her arm through yours and pulls you across the deck. You fill your bucket with saltwater and approach one of the more gruesome remnants of the morning’s violence. Your stomach heaves as you spot something that might very well be a skull fragment.

Determined not to look foolish or weak, you get on your knees and scrub. You work diligently and without complaint, even when your arms start to ache and the wood remains stained despite your efforts.

It isn’t the approval of the crew you want, exactly. But you are going to be trapped on this ship for two weeks. While you aren’t looking to make friends with your captors, you also don’t want to find your throat slit in a moment of anger.

“How long are you going to keep doing that?” Jinx materializes by your side. Her braids fall into the puddle you’ve created with your scrubbing efforts. She doesn't seem to mind that she might be getting blood in her long hair.

“Is this a trick question?”

“No.”

You lift your head to find wide blue eyes staring at you with curiosity.

“I will keep doing this until the deck is clean.”

She barks out a laugh. “You’re never going to remove all the gross stuff with just water. Didn’t you know that?”

“I don’t often find myself in positions where I am scrubbing up gross stuff ,” you reply. “What else am I supposed to use?”

“Did Sevika not tell you?” Her brows knit together in a mix of concern and confusion.

“Tell me what?”

Jinx studies you for a moment longer before giggling. “Oh, I get it. Sevika’s having a go at you. Don’t worry. Everyone knows you’ll work without kicking up a fuss. I’ll be right back.”

She bounds off, leaving you confused. You take a moment to give your aching arms a break. You are aware of eyes on you, though the crewmates scattered around the deck do a decent job of not staring at you directly. You know this is some kind of test, one you’re determined to pass with flying colors even if the reward is earning the respect of pirates.

Jinx returns with a small tin.

“Watch this.” With a grin, she opens the tin to reveal vibrant purple powder. She sprinkles a little over the blood-soaked wood. “Pour a little water on that.”

You do as she instructs. With wide eyes, you watch the water hiss and bubble. It takes on a pale purple hue as it spreads. It eats away at the blood but leaves the wood unblemished.

“More water,” Jinx instructs. You comply. The bubbles wash away leaving behind smooth, clean wood.

“What is that?” You ask, eyeing the purple power.

“We’re still working on a name. I have several ideas but they always get shot down,” she says as she replaces the lid and tucks the tin into one of her many pockets.

“We?”

“The ship’s doctor. He likes to experiment.”

“This is the same doctor you got that strange drink from before, when I was first brought aboard?” You press.

“Yup!” Jinx beams.

“Well, the Captain tore that drink from my hands and threw it overboard before giving me water. What was wrong with it?” You shudder at the thought of drinking a substance that is capable of dissolving blood and chunks of brain matter being served to you in a cup.

“Nothing!” Jinx raises her hands, palms facing you. “Sometimes it has side effects, but usually it’s completely safe.”

“Usually?” You arch a brow.

“Sometimes it makes your veins swell and glow and you can occasionally develop abnormal growths on your body,” she explains. “But that’s only if the batch is made wrong or you take way too much.”

“None of the words coming from your mouth are bringing me comfort.”

“It’s science! It’s all about trial and error,” she shrugs. “If I thought it would hurt you I wouldn’t have given it to you.”

Despite everything, you believe her. You haven’t seen a hint of malice in her since you were brought aboard.

“But you still haven’t told me what it is,” you press.

“It’s…a tool,” she says with thoughtful consideration. “Depending on how we process it, it can do a lot of things. It can be medicine and poison at the same time. It can clean wood with gentle precision but also dissolve bone. A tricky thing, it is. Truly fascinating.”

“Interesting,” you murmur as your mind wanders to a person who possesses that same versatility. Another tricky thing.

You see Silco’s face in your mind’s eye but quickly shake his image away. You don’t want to think about the Captain right now. You’re still cross from the way he teased you and denied you. You’re even more cross knowing how much you would have begged for your pleasure had he not chosen to punish you the way he did. “Thank you for the help. Can I have some of that powder to help me clean?”

Jinx almost seems like she’s going to agree but she holds back. “I’ll just stay with you. We can talk and I’ll sprinkle a little whenever you need it.”

“That works for me.” You offer her a warm smile, a genuine one. She smiles back and settles between two crates to keep you company as you clean. ******** Though you finish cleaning the blood and gore from the deck the very day they were spilled, Sevika isn’t shy about giving you extra tasks. She never gives you anything too difficult though you know it’s not out of consideration for you, but for the ship.

You’ve scrubbed the deck twice a day for three days. When you aren’t scrubbing, you put your sewing skills to use mending sails. The thick material is hard to work with and the needles are little more than scraps of half-rusted metal but you make do.

With the help of quick hands, fast learning, and the strange purple powder Jinx offers you soon have far too much idle time on your hands.

You aren’t particularly fond of aimlessly pacing the deck. The Captain’s cabin is always open to you, but you spend as little time there as you can manage.

Despite Captain Silco’s demanding schedule, he always manages to be in the cabin whenever you are. The room is small enough as it is, but when you are in there together, the very air seems to struggle for space. You don’t speak to him. You don’t look at him unless you can help it. Yet, he never misses a chance to brush close to you. You feel his eyes on you, always. Even when you sleep.

Sharing his bed is a necessity but you keep your limbs tucked close to you and your body curled toward the cabin wall. He never touches you, which brings both relief and unimaginable frustration.

On the third night, you lay wide awake. Your entire body hums with pressure from the release that was denied days ago. The longing never went away but tonight it’s nearly unbearable.

You listen in the dark. Silco sleeps beside you. His breathing is deep and even. Though there is a soft glow from the ember of his ruined eye, you know he’s asleep. Slowly, very slowly, you shift onto your back. You wear only a borrowed shirt to sleep in. Your legs are left bare and your undergarments never recovered from your unexpected dip in the ocean. Tonight, it’s an advantage.

With great care, you slowly lift the long hem of your shirt until you feel the skin of your lower belly. You part your legs only an inch or two before letting your hand slowly wander between your legs beneath the shared blankets.

You listen intently as you move. Silco’s breathing never changes and you keep the rustling of bedsheets to a minimum.

You find it safe to assume that Silco is a heavy sleeper. Between the winds and rocking of the ship, it would be difficult for a finicky sleeper to find peace here. At least, that’s what you tell yourself. As sound as your logic may be, logic is not what drives you at this moment.

The sensation of your fingertips against your skin is enough to make you shiver. You freeze, silently admonishing your lack of self-control before making another attempt. You don’t need much. Just a few light, indulgent touches. Just enough to remove the biting edge of desire that has taken up permanent residence in the back of your mind since Silco bent you over his knee. The pad of a single fingertip brushes against that sensitive, soaked bundle of nerves at the apex of your thighs. Your teeth sink into your bottom lip, hard enough to hurt. The pain is necessary if it keeps you from making even the softest of sounds.

You wait for a moment, listening to Silco’s breathing. When you are certain there is no change, you allow another slow drag of your fingertip. Then another. And another. Pleasure spins through your mind and soothes the needy ache you’ve carried in your core for days.

Fragmented images from the night of the storm slip through your mind. The memory of Silco’s soft groan when you rode him so slowly sends another ripple of warmth through your body. You can recall the exact sensation of his tongue as he teased your nipples. You can feel the way he throbbed inside of you when you drove each other to maddening releases.

Yet, somehow, you manage to keep your movements minimal, discrete, and silent. Even as your blood heats up and your heart pounds, you have enough self-control to keep yourself quiet as you relieve your desires.

An intoxicating sense of smugness adds another layer to your pleasure. Though it was memories of Silco that fueled that pleasure, he remains asleep beside you. Completely oblivious.

His ability to consistently underestimate you was truly something-

“What do we have here?” His velvet voice slides through the darkness and wraps around you as his hand finds yours. You’re grateful for the pitch blackness of the cabin so he cannot see the redness of your cheeks. Your mind, still caught in the haze of pleasure from your fingertip, struggles to come up with any sort of explanation.

There is nothing you can say for yourself. You’ve been caught.

His hand, still covering your hand, moves. He presses down on your fingers, forcing you to tease yourself. You push your hips down into the mattress to avoid the pressure of your own touch. “Oh, now you wish to follow the rules?” He taunts lightly.

You roll so that your back is to him. You tell yourself that you remain silent because you will not sink so low as to dignify his taunts with a response. Yet, deep in your belly where that spring of desire sits tightly coiled, you know that you cannot trust your own tongue right now. If you open your mouth to slice him with scathing words, there is a chance you’ll simply end up begging for pleasure.

Hatred blooms within the blush on your cheeks. How dare he toy with you in such a way? How dare you struggle so much to keep yourself in control around him? What happened that night, within the violence of the storm, was about control more than it was about pleasure.

But now? You have your hand between your legs, sneaking pleasure when you’ve always been able to go without when it suited you.

He’s made you desperate.

You remove your hand from between your legs and tuck both arms against your chest. You clamp your thighs together and pray that the sweet ache between them fades soon.

“If I catch you doing that again, I will not hesitate to bind your hands behind your back.” Silco’s voice comes through the darkness once more before he falls silent. You continue to say nothing. When the sun rises, you dress as quickly as you can and flee the cabin. Silco sits at his desk and you do not even have to look at him to know there is a smug smile on his mouth. Embarrassment and irritation propel you through your daily tasks in record time. It is not yet midday when you find that you have nothing to do.

The rest of the crew mill about at a comfortable pace. They don’t seem to be in any particular rush. Jinx is nowhere to be found. You assume she’s below decks with the strange doctor you have yet to meet. Disappointment flutters in your chest. As strange as it is, your favorite parts of the past few days were when she would perch near you ask you worked, and ramble on about everything and nothing. She often jumped from topic to topic without rhyme or reason and rarely bothered to make sure you had the proper context to understand anything she said, but you enjoyed listening. She helped you keep your mind busy.

When your mind is not busy, even for the briefest of moments, your thoughts always turn to Silco. More specifically Silcos’s hands. Or his mouth. Or his voice or his cock or his insufferable personality. Without care, it’s so easy for you to lose yourself in a whirlpool of obsessive, never-ending thoughts about that ridiculous, despicable, revolting pirate bastard.

Prickles of pure fury ripple over your skin. With a soft snarl of annoyance, you scan the deck for Sevika. You find her near the bow, watching the calm sea.

“I need something else to do,” you say.

She initially seems as though she does not hear you, but you’ve come to realize that it’s part of the game she plays. She makes you wait before turning slowly and looking at you as though you’re a piece of flotsam.

“Mend the sails,” she says.

“They’re all mended.” Despite their somewhat worn-down appearance, the sails are of remarkable quality. Even after that vicious beast of a storm, little mending was needed.

“And the deck?”

“As spotless as it can be with all of the wood rot.”

“And the spare line?”

“In perfect condition. It may as well be coils of silk.”

“How many pickled eggs are in the barrel?”

“Two-hundred and seventy-three.”

Her thick, dark brows shoot up. “You’re kidding.”

“If you want to double-check, you’re more than welcome but please give me something to do first before I throw myself overboard.”

Several emotions fight for dominance on Sevika’s stern face. You see flashes of surprise, humor, annoyance, and perhaps a little bit of respect though that might have been a trick of the light.

“Arlo is doing one of his big cooking hauls today,” Sevika says. “I’m sure he can use an extra set of hands.”

You had yet to venture below deck to meet the ship’s cook and see the mess deck. Jinx preferred to eat in the open air and had taken it upon herself to bring an extra serving for you at mealtimes.

You find the meal offerings of the Zaun’s Revenge to be, frankly, repulsive. At first, you assumed it was because your palate was used to Piltover’s fresh vegetables, vibrant spices, and choice cuts of meat. But you’d seen the way others look at their meals with disgust and longing and you knew you weren’t alone in your dislike of the cuisine.

Of course, could you truly expect to find something tasty aboard a pirate’s ship?

Sevika does not wait for you to answer. She turns away as though you are not there and focuses her gaze on the sea once more. You wonder if she’s looking for something or simply pondering. It’s not hard to imagine that those aboard this ship have had difficult lives filled with strife. You have more than most ever will, despite your losses, and you often need to take a moment to deal with the weight of it all by gazing at a soothing view. It clears the mind.

You make your way below deck, passing the crammed tables of the mess deck.

Arlo isn’t difficult to find. The mess deck and the kitchen are one and the same. A heavy-set man covered in a light sheen of sweat frantically tosses…something in a wide pan over a massive flame. The air carries a scent of burnt food and vinegar. Arlo watches the pan as though he believes the contents will jump out and bite him. To be fair, that doesn’t seem impossible.

“Hello?” You call softly, over the violent sizzle of the ill-fated meal.

Arlo looks over his shoulder and sets the pan aside, looking relieved to do so before a stern expression overtakes his somewhat doughy features. You can’t help but notice the red tinge to his watery grey eyes, irritated by the fumes of cooking such a creation.

“No early meals. You should know the rules by now, princess.”

“Oh, no,” you shake your head. “I’m not here to beg for food. Sevika suggested you might need an extra hand. She said you were doing some kind of…food haul?” While you understand what each of those words mean separately, you are unsure of the combined meaning of them in this context.

“Aye?” He sniffs as he brings the corner of his apron up to rub at his eyes. “I like to cook big batches of things all at once and preserve them so it is easy to handle mealtimes. This lot is hard to feed.”

“Preserve them?” You ask. “You have enough salt for such a task?”

“Of a sort,” he says. “The good doctor below decks whipped up a preserving powder that works wonders. It tastes like nothing.”

Arlo jerks his chin towards a bowl sitting on one of the stained, cluttered counters. The bowl is filled with a grainy substance the same vibrant shade of purple as the powder that helped you get blood out of the deck.

“What is it?” You ask, leaning forward just a little.

“Beats me,” Arlo shrugs. “It’s not my place to ask questions, especially not when I’m given something helpful for free.”

“I can understand that,” you nod. “Do you need help with your food haul?”

“I won’t say no. Can you cook?”

You hesitate for a moment. “No. But if you have a recipe I can look at, I can surely figure it out.” You’ve always been a quick learner. And so many people know how to cook so how hard can it truly be? You doubt whatever concoctions Arlo makes take much skill.

“I don’t waste my time with recipes.”

“Then how do you cook?” You ask, unsure if you want to know the answer.

“I do what feels right.”

What feels right often leads to grey foods that are both mushy and crunchy at the same time.

“Did you study somewhere to become a cook?” Your training in polite conversation rears its head before you can stop it. Of course, he didn’t train anywhere. He’s a bloody pirate.

“People are trained to be cooks?” He looks at you with utter confusion.

“They prefer to be called chefs, but yes.”

“Ach,” he waves her off. “I’m no chef and I do not pretend to be. I just do my best to use whatever isn’t rotting or foul to keep the crew fed.”

Well, at least Arlo seems to have some sort of self-awareness. “Were you not able to gather more ingredients when we stopped at Port Fairna?” You ask. You vividly remember plenty of spice sellers and bakers lining the dirt streets.

“No,” Arlo answers sharply. “I do not mess about with such things.”

You tilt your head in confusion. “You do not manage your own stock?”

“No.” Came another curt reply. The cook avoids your gaze, choosing instead to look at his own hands.

You decide not to push the matter and instead, turn your attention to the shelves of the well-stocked scullery. Unfortunately, your confusion only deepens. The shelves are lined with rich spices from all over the world that look untouched. You spy garlic, onions, potatoes, carrots, and all manner of staple ingredients labeled and stored with heaps of the purple preservative.

“What are all of these?” You ask.

Arlo looks at the shelves you point to but quickly looks away. “Don’t know. Never seen ‘em before. Don’t know how to cook with ‘em so I don’t use them.”

“But it says what they are right on the containers,” you point out. “Surely, you’ve heard of garlic and potatoes even if you’ve never had them. Right?”

Arlo goes quiet for a moment and you briefly wonder if you’ve made some unforgivable error in an innocent question. “Aye. Yes, I’ve heard of them but I did not know we had them.”

“But they’re labeled. Did you not label them yourself?” He controls the kitchen, does he not?

Arlo’s cheeks turn a patchy red color that is not from the fumes or heat. “No, no I didn’t. I…can’t.”

You stare in confusion before shame and embarrassment creep into your gut. “You do not know how to write?”

“Or read.”

Arlo can’t meet your gaze. He seems frozen in place. Though he is nearly the side of the large, tattooed crewmember that once pulled you from the sea, he looks like a small child.

“Oh,” you say softly. It’s clearly a point of tenderness for Arlo. You don’t wish to upset him even more. “Well, then this seems like a perfect arrangement.”

He lifts his head and looks at you with a quizzical expression. “What?”

“I can read but I cannot cook. You can cook but cannot read. It seems like an ideal pairing to me.” You offer him a smile.

For a brief moment, you wonder at your own actions. You’d never go out of your way to be unkind to someone who did not deserve it and you always try to do what’s right, but you know yourself. You have a temper and a spiteful streak that prevent you from ever calling yourself a nice person, though you like to think you are kind in all of the ways that matter.. Arlo is a pirate. Arlo likely knew of the plan to kidnap you and hold you for ransom. Arlo is one of Silco’s men and, therefore, cannot possibly be a good person.

Yet, you find it easy to be nice to him. Natural, even. He doesn’t seem like a scowling, sneering member of a villainous pirate crew determined to put you through hell before returning you to your father and fiance.

He’s just…a person.

So is Jinx.

You are surrounded by people. Just people.

You shake away the thought. Yes, the crew of the Zaun’s Revenge are people but they are people who willingly follow a terrible man capable of terrible things. There are no innocent people aboard this ship and you cannot allow sentimentality and loneliness to cloud that fact.

Still, if a little teamwork can yield some decent food, you’re willing to give it a go.

With Arlo’s approving nod, you push into the scullery and examine what you have to work with. The stock aboard this half-rotted ship rivals your larder back home. You gather up ingredients you know work well together and read the labels to Arlo. His eyes light up with inspiration.

“If I had known we had such things, I would have used them ages ago,” he says with an excited smile.

“No one helped you until now?” You press.

“In case you haven’t noticed, we’re not exactly a helpful bunch. We handle our own responsibilities and we don’t gripe to anyone else. No one wants to be seen as a weak link in the chainmail. Weak links don’t last long. Asking for help would mean dumping some of my responsibilities on someone else’s lap. It’s just not done, you see?”

“No, not really,” you answer. “Asking for help is not a weakness.”

“We can agree to disagree on that but let me ask you something.” Arlo took a head of garlic and began peeling and mincing the cloves with speed and precision. “When was the last time you answered a call for help?”

You open your mouth to answer but falter. You cannot remember a time you were last approached by someone in need of help.

“Well, no one has asked me for help in recent memory so I cannot say,” you answer.

“And that automatically means that no one around you needed help?”

“I-” you stammer. “I don’t know.”

“I bet you live in a big, fancy house. Yeah?”

“Yes,” you say, your cheeks coloring with embarrassment as you pass a vial of dried green herbs to Arlo.

“And lots of people get paid to be in that house and make your life easier?”

“Yes,” you repeat.

“And you don’t think those people have struggles that you could probably help with?”

You want to say no. You want to believe that everyone working for your family is happy and content with their job as well as their personal lives but you are not that naive.

Except…perhaps, you are.

“I never thought about it,” you admit.

“And they never asked because that’s not how it’s done. Their burdens are their own. My burdens are my own. It is the way of things.”

You let his words sit heavy on your chest as you rummage through the scullery. You’re almost grateful when you smell the thick stench of rot from ingredients kept too long. You clear out everything that doesn’t look right and shove it into a bin to be disposed of later.

You think of your lady’s maid and realize you know little about her. You do not know if she has siblings, a lover, a best friend, or even if her parents are alive. You have no idea why she applied for a position with your family. As much as you’d like to think your family are good employers, you know it’s foolish to believe her greatest joy in life is tightening your corset and brushing your hair.

“Would this be a tasty addition?” Arlo calls, bringing you out of your thoughts as he holds up a jar of dried peppers. You read the label and wince.

“Are spicy dishes popular among the crew?” You ask. “Just one of those would set your mouth on fire.”

“Better leave it for another day, then,” he shrugs. “I don’t want to overwhelm anyone with too many new flavors.”

Though Arlo never had any training, his instincts as a cook come to life the moment he fully realizes just what he has to take advantage of. Vegetables are minced and sauteed quickly. You find some bone broth tucked away in the scullery. There is no shortage of fishmeat to choose from. You read the labels to Arlo who looks on in wonder.

“I thought this was bass and this was carp,” he says, pointing to two containers of preserved fishmeat. “I never knew that was eel. It all looks so different when it’s sliced up and skinned.”

“Who does the fishing?”

“A few crewmembers have a knack for it. All of Sevika’s gadgets make her the obvious choice for skinning, deboning, and filleting,” Arlo explains. “It’s brought to me all packaged up like this.”

It seems odd to you that the systems around food are so sloppy, especially since Silco seems to thrive on order. Upon further reflection, you realize you haven’t actually seen him eat. He left his plate untouched at the tavern. He let you eat his bread and potatoes. You saw him drink from his tankard but you cannot recall him taking a bite of his food.

Surely, he must eat. Though he is a pirate, he’s displayed a sense of elegance and taste on more than one occasion. You simply cannot see him eating the food prepared by his illiterate cook.

But why does it matter to you? He’s obviously eating enough to keep himself alive. Why would you care what he eats?

You don’t care. And you don’t want to think about him. You have an important task on hand that is, truthfully, quite fun. You’ve come across many of the spices and herbs stored in the scullery during your travels. Smelling them brings pleasant memories. While you do not know how to cook, you know how to describe what things taste like. In the event Arlo knows nothing about an ingredient, you are sometimes able to provide some knowledge. It’s a strange system, but it somehow works.

Arlo keeps your mind busy. He even teaches you how to chop a few things. Your hands are clumsy but you make it work. Within an hour, you are dutifully stirring a massive pot of fish stew. While it’s not something you’d choose for yourself, it’s an improvement on whatever Arlo made before. “It’s strange to be a cook on a pirate ship in the middle of the ocean and have access to things I never even knew existed growing up,” Arlo says, holding a potato in his hands.

“You never had a potato until joining this crew?” You itch to ask why he joined in the first place but you allow him to reveal information about himself at his own pace.

“Potatoes grow from the earth, yeah?” He asks. You nod. “Which means they need something in order to grow.” He gives you an expectant look. You know you’re being tested again but potatoes are a safer topic than the unknown personal lives of your staff. “Sunshine, water, and fertilizer, I presume.”

“There is no sunshine where I come from,” Arlo says. “Water can’t be wasted on plants but even if it could, there is no earth. You can’t grow something of the earth if there is no earth for growing.”

“Oh,” you murmur softly. “You’re from the Undercity, then?”

“Almost all of us are,” Arlo says. “I’m surprised you didn’t know that.”

“Well, I haven’t been in a very social mood as of late. Being kidnapped tends to do that.” You offer a small smirk, which Arlo returns.

“Fair enough,” he nods. “You seem like a decent sort for a spoiled heiress.”

“You seem like a decent sort for a pirate who can’t read.”

Arlo barks out a laugh. “Perhaps, your ransom money will buy me a tutor.”

You can’t help but laugh at that as you continue to stir the stew. With a little thrill of accomplishment, you realize that you’ve not only assisted in the preparation of a meal but you’ve done so without thinking of Silco for more than a few moments. He’s hardly entered your mind at all.

Footfalls thump on the wooden stairs leading to the deck. You spot tall, well-kept boots wrapped around slender legs.

It is as if your thoughts - or lack thereof - summoned him like some kind of devilish moth to a flame that would prefer to be left unbothered. “Ah, there you are,” Silco says as he enters the mess deck. “What on earth are you doing?”

“Working,” you reply, keeping your eyes on the stew.

“I did not assign you to the kitchen.”

“You told me to take orders from Sevika. Sevika sent me here. Arlo and I are getting along brilliantly, aren’t we?” You look over your shoulder at the cook who glances between you and Silco with a look of panicked confusion. Eventually, his gaze stops on Silco.

“I didn’t know you didn’t want her working in the kitchen, Captain,” he says quickly. His voice trembles with nerves and you feel anger flickering to life in your stomach.

“I should warn you, Arlo,” Silco speaks as though the cook said nothing. “Our prisoner does not have a talent for following directions. She can be sneaky and disobedient if she believes she can get away with it.”

Your cheeks burn as you understand exactly what he means.

Before you can stop yourself, you pull the wooden spoon from the stew and chuck it at Silco. He dodges, but barely. His good eye widens in surprise as you search for something else to launch at him. Perhaps a nice sharp butcher’s knife. Instead, you find a whisk. You throw it without hesitation.

“Have you gone mad?” Silco snaps, dodging the second projectile. How can someone with one working eye be so good at dodging and judging distance? Although, you don’t know for certain if the ruined eye still has a vision. Could that be possible?

You let out a frustrated groan as your mind tries to give in to your curiosity about the infuriating pirate before you.

“Oh, I see,” Silco chuckles. “You’re just upset I won’t let you cu-”

He is silenced by a spatula spinning through the air as it hurtles toward him. He dodges once more.

“I have plenty of things to throw at you,” you warn him. “And if I have gone mad, it’s entirely your fault so I will not feel bad if I crack your nose with a rolling pin.”

“I don’t have one of those,” Arlo murmurs softly.

“Temper, temper,” Silco tuts before backing up toward the stairs. “Don’t let her poison me, Arlo. I don’t put it past her to try.”

Arlo gives you a concerned look as Silco vanishes.

“Don’t worry,” you say with a bitter note in your voice. “I won’t poison anyone.”

“It’s not that, though I’m glad to hear it,” he said. “But you just threw things at the Captain. Have you lost your bleeding senses, woman?”

“Most likely.” You find another spoon to stir the stew with and continue on as though Silco did not interrupt your work.

“Just be careful,” Arlo warns. “The Captain is not to be trifled with.”

“Neither am I.” ******** The stew is well received, but that’s not a surprise. Even if it still tastes off to you, it’s a massive improvement. The mess deck is packed with crewmembers licking their bowls clean and sniffing out second helpings. You and Arlo made enough stew to last several meals but it is all gone in the span of an hour. Arlo frets about rationing ingredients but his worries are soon put to rest from an overflow of praise. Even Sevika cracks a smile as she sips her broth.

Silco does not eat with the crew, but that doesn’t surprise you. A spiteful part of you is glad that he will miss out on such a delightful meal. It serves him right for being so…so… Him.

As night falls, the crew settles into a leisurely state.

You get to work scrubbing the dirty dishes, eager to have a task that will keep you out of the Captain’s chambers for as long as possible.

“Ach, leave it to me,” Arlo says. “You’ve done enough.”

“I don’t mind,” you protest, even though dishwashing is not an appealing task after seeing the way the pirates eat. “I should be helping.”

“Come have a drink with us,” comes the deep voice of the tattoo-covered man. After listening to the conversation during mealtimes, you gleaned that his name is Locke.

“Oh, I-” You stammer, surprised by the invitation. A slender crewmember with dark choppy hair moves to Locke’s side. You’re fairly certain they go by Ran.

“Come on,” they urge. “You’ve worked hard enough. And none of us have given you proper credit for taking Walley’s punishment the other day. It took nerve to speak up like that. Most of us wouldn’t have done that.”

You look back at Arlo, who gives a nod of approval. Your gaze returns to Locke and Ran. Though they do not look as intimidating as they did when you first came aboard, you wouldn’t call their demeanors friendly, either but that’s something you’ve come to expect. Everyone on this ship comes from a rough place. It makes sense that even kindness looks abrasive in your eyes. “Okay,” you nod. A part of your mind begins to scheme. If you can befriend some of the crew, perhaps you can pull off an escape after all. The other part of your mind is simply glad you have a reason to stay out of the Captain’s cabin. Besides, it will surely irritate Silco that his crew is being so welcoming to you. That’s a lovely bonus to this situation.

You follow Locke and Ran to the main deck where quite a few members of the crew including Jinx and Sevika stand around a cluster of torches bound together in a damp barrel. It doesn’t seem like the safest arrangement, but you don’t say as much. You move to Jinx’s side. She beams when she sees you and throws a playful, but rough, arm over your shoulder.

“It’s about time you started being social,” she says with a glint of mischief in her eyes. You almost want to remind her that you are a prisoner, a captive. Socializing is not a priority. You decide against it. She’s just a kid. She’s happy and she’s aware of the situation. You’ll leave well enough alone.

“Here, princess.” Sevika presses a tin into your hand. You can smell the alcohol even though the tin is nowhere near your face.

“What is it?” You ask.

“The finest vintage imported from uppityland courtesy of Star Crossed Shipping,” Sevika snorts before taking a gulp of her own drink. You try not to bristle at the mention of your father’s company.

“Seriously, what is it?” You whisper to Jinx.

“I don’t know. I only drink coralberry juice,” she shrugs. “Nothing else is sweet enough.”

You’ve never heard of coralberries or their juice. It’s entirely possible that Jinx is making up a random drink for the fun of it. Either way, your cup is filled with something dark and pungent. It is only when you notice that many crewmembers are watching you with curious and expectant looks that you realize they’re waiting for you to drink. They probably expect you to choke and sputter, proving that you’re too soft and fragile compared to them.

You don’t know why the idea bothers you, but it does. You brace yourself and take a drink.

And it is awful.

If you had to guess, you’d say it was some kind of spiced rum but that doesn’t make the burn any easier to bear as you swallow it down. Your eyes water so much that everyone blurs together in a smudgy mess. For a moment, you think you’re going to be sick. Or that your skin is going to melt off. It’s hard to know for sure.

Even when you swallow the liquid down and the feeling passes, your tongue feels numb. Surely, that’s nothing to worry about. Right?

You are rewarded with approving glances but never any outright praise. Not that it matters. Why would you want the praise of a bunch of pirates? Why would you want praise for choking down something that tastes like it was made in a boot?

You shudder as you realize that it likely was made in a boot or something equally foul.

Thankfully, attention moves away from you as everyone settles down to swap stories. Jinx pulls two crates together and urges you to sit on one.

“Every word of these stories is utter shit, but they’re entertaining,” Jinx whispers to you. “I hope Locke tells about the time he caught a deep sea spineshark with nothing more than a stick and some fishing line.”

You listen to the stories and Jinx’s words ring true. It quickly becomes clear that the purpose is not to share experiences, but to outdo each other with fictional feats of glory. Though, when Sevika speaks of punching a ravenous whale right in the eye, you feel as though there is a measure of truth in her words. Especially if that punch was done by her three-pronged attachment.

“I wonder who is going shout liar first,” Jinx murmurs as her eyes scan the faces of those around her.

“What?” You ask.

“Eventually, someone tells a story that’s so impossible, so unbelievable, that someone else calls them a lair. Then they fight over it.”

“Fight? As in, fight ?” You shake your head. How is this considered a fun activity?

“Yup!” Jinx’s eyes sparkle with excitement. “It’s the best part.”

“If you say so,” you shrug and continue to listen.

Sure enough, a skinny sailor with sunken eyes and a permanent scowl tells a tale that is just a little bit too farfetched and it sends Locke over the edge.

“Lair!” Locke booms, spilling some of his drink.

“You wouldn’t know the truth if it bit you in the ass,” the other sailor snarls.

“This is going to be a boring fight,” Jinx mumbles. “No one will throw a punch at Locke and Locke is too honorable to punch someone smaller than him.”

Never in a thousand years would you have looked at Locke and thought the word honorable applies to him. But Jinx’s prediction rings true. The two sailors shout and swear at each other for a little while but they do not come to blows.

“At least I am a decent shot,” Locke grumbles as the argument reaches its head.

“My nan is a better shot than you are and she’s fuckin’ blind,” the other man snarls, earning a round of snickers from the rest of the crew.

“Your nan died three years ago, you twat.”

“Yeah! And she can’t see for shit!”

You nearly spit out your tentative sip of likely-rum at that. You try to rein in your laughter when you realize everyone else is doing the opposite, especially Jinx.

“Bring me a rifle,” Locke snaps. “We’ll settle this now.”

“You don’t have any targets to aim for, you buffoon,” Ran quips as they drain their cup.

“That don’t matter,” the skinny sailor says with a dismissive wave. “I’m so drunk I can see just about as well as my nan.”

“Then how are we going to settle our little disagreement?” Locke demands. “By proxy?”

“Sure, I’ll choose a proxy to defend my honor,” the sailor scoffs. His bleary eyes scan his surroundings before his gaze lands on you. “I bet the little heiress can outshoot you.”

Locke rolls his eyes and your cheeks flush red.

“I’ll bet my life’s earning she’s never even held a firearm before,” Locke mutters.

“Yet she can still outshoot you,” the sailor slurs.

Your apprehension melts away as you realize everything is said in good fun. For reasons you are unsure of, you decide to join in.

“I’ve never held a firearm but I’m certain Locke has never danced a waltz,” you say.

Locke levels you with a hard stare, one brow arched. “Who needs waltzing?”

“Who needs to be a good shot in alone in the middle of the ocean?” You point out.

“Good marksmanship is very useful in piracy,” Locke says. “Waltzing is not.”

“Waltzing requires grace, balance, self-awareness, spatial awareness, and the ability to read those around you. You don’t have only your partner to worry about but other pairs around you. Can the same be said for shooting?”

“Yes!” Jinx exclaims. “Well, maybe not the bit about a partner but that’s all true.”

“What a load of shit,” Locke grumbles.

“It’s true,” Sevika chimes in. Her word seems to make all the difference even if she only speaks up for the sake of her own entertainment.

You look at Locke who still seems to be struggling with the idea that a waltz and a rifleman use the same skillset. “I propose a challenge.”

That gets everyone’s attention.

“If I can shoot better than Locke can waltz, I win,” you say.

“Win what?” Locke asks.

“Bragging rights?” You suggest. You don’t want to trade away any chores since you need them in order to avoid being alone with Silco.

“Done,” Locke nods with a smirk. Despite his menacing appearance, he looks almost…giddy. Like he’s happy to take part in something that’s truly ridiculous. “Come take your shot.”

You stand and approach Locke as Ran brings a rifle to him.

“Do you have any idea how to shoot this at all?” Locke asks.

“Nope,” you admit.

“In the spirit of good sportsmanship, I’ll show you just enough to keep you from hurting yourself,” he says.

“How gallant.”

He shows you how to hold the rifle, which is far heavier than you imagined. As per instruction, you keep the barrel pointed toward the open ocean at all times. As you hold it, your arms start to tremble. Locke prepares the rifle for firing and you suspect he’s taking longer than necessary just to see you struggle.

“If there is no target, how can we know whether I’ve made a good shot or not?” You ask.

“Don’t worry. That won’t matter.”

“But my part of the challenge is a test of marksmanship,” you protest only to be met with a chuckle.

“Okay, princess. Go ahead and fire.” Locke gives you a nod and you gently tap your finger against the trigger. Aiming at the endless, empty expanse of the black ocean, you pull the trigger fully. You expect the loud boom but you do not expect to feel the entire rifle revolt against your grip, slamming into your shoulder. You stumble back with a small yelp, much to the enjoyment of the spectators around you.

Locke tosses his head back and laughs, his shoulders shaking.

“What the hell was that?” You stammer. Ran takes the rifle from you, freeing your hands to rub at your shoulder.

“Recoil. To be honest, I expected to you land on your ass,” Locke chuckles.

“You might have given me some warning.”

“Where is the fun in that?” The pirate says.

“Well, once I confirm that my shoulder hasn’t been launched from its socket, I’m going to make you waltz and we’ll see how you do,” You mutter, still testing the soreness in your arm and shoulder. “If you complete the waltz without tripping, you’ll win. Is that fair?” That seems fair to you since Locke expected the rifle’s recoil to send you to the ground.

“Easy enough,” he agrees.

“Good. Stand here.” You direct him to stand in front of you. “Watch my feet.”

With a phantom partner, you demonstrate the basic steps of a waltz before returning to Locke.

“Got it?” You ask.

“Yes,” Locke nods though he does not seem very confident.

“Good. Remember, if you trip, I win.” You place his hands in the correct positions and do the same for yourself. He’s much taller and broader than anyone you’ve ever danced with. Your arms feel suspended in an awkward way that almost makes you laugh.

“I don’t suppose we have any music?”

“Depends. Can one play a waltz on the side of a barrel?” Jinx asks.

“Likely not,” you chuckle. “It’s no matter. I will count out the beat. That won’t be too difficult for you, will it?” You taunt Locke who only nods.

You begin to count, but nothing happens. Locke stands stock still.

“You’re the man. You’re supposed to lead,” you prompt him.

“Right. Naturally,” he grumbles and waits for you to begin your count. When you do, he steps forward instead of backward, trampling your foot. You hold in your laughter as you shake your head.

“I didn’t think you’d stumble on the very first step,” you tease. “Had I known such a game would be so easy to win I would have joined the fun sooner.”

“I’ve never done any of that fancy Piltover dancing before. Let me try again,” Locke mutters. “It’s a stupid dance. It’s not that hard.”

“If you say so,” you shrug before taking up position again. You begin to count once more. To Locke’s credit, he manages two steps before stumbling, earning a round of laughter from the crew.

“What is the meaning of this?” A voice like a burst of cold wind blew over the deck. Silco stood at the top of the stairs leading to his cabin. The laughter amongst the crew faded into nothing. Only Jinx looked unaffected by the Captain’s sudden presence.

“A friendly challenge,” you explain. “Nothing more.”

“I can see that,” Silco says as he steps closer to the cluster of burning torches. The firelight casts his face in harsh shadows that make him look even more inhuman than he already does. “But I cannot allow the crew of the Zaun’s Revenge to look incompetent. Locke, step aside.”

“Aye, Captain.” The confusion is clear in his voice as he stumbles back. You are unable to fully hide your confusion as well, especially when Silco steps before you and takes your hand.

“The honor of the Zaun’s Revenge is at stake. You will not leave this ship under the misbelief that no one here can execute a decent waltz.”

Well, that’s an unexpected development.

“Do what you are able,” you reply with a note of challenge in your voice that does not go unnoticed by your new partner. You bring your hand to rest on his shoulder as you prepare to dance. “One more thing,” he says before looking to his crew. “Walley, do you still have that old fiddle?”

“Aye, Captain.”

“Fetch it.”

The crewmember scurried away and quickly returned with the promised fiddle.

“Play Across a Sea so Clear and Blue, ” Silco orders before looking down at you. “I doubt you know it but it will suffice for a waltz. Surely, you can adapt.”

“Surely,” you bristle.

Walley beings to play his fiddle. Though you do not know the song, the time signature is well-suited for a waltz. You wait for Silco to lead you into the dance, expecting him to miscount or falter but he doesn’t. The pair of you move across the deck as though you’ve done this a hundred times before and plan to do it a hundred times more.

You quickly adjust to each other’s movements and soon he leaves room for you to add flourishes to the simple steps, which you do without hesitation. Your movements are slow and precise. As you dance with him, you cannot help but think of how different this is from the passion you shared during the storm. Silco leads you through the dance expertly, trusting you to be a competent partner. This isn’t a show of dominance or power but a display of grace and unity. Two bodies moving as one to create something elegant and lovely.

The song ends far too soon, as does the dance. You feel breathless even though the dance was not at all physically demanding. You’re speechless even as your body moves you through the motions of curtsying to your partner.

Thankfully, Jinx appears at your side. She’s nearly vibrating with excitement.

“How did you do that? You looked like you were floating!” She says, looking between you and Silco. Her question is a good one.

Where does a pirate learn how to waltz, let alone waltz so well?

“I…” You start only to trail off. “I need a drink.”

You move away from Silco, back to your abandoned cup. You force yourself to take a sip and you are grateful that it goes down easier this time. The alcohol settles in your belly and dulls the unwanted feelings swirling through you.

Jinx joins you soon and within minutes, the crew is back to swapping stories and boasting as though the waltz never happened.

Your gaze wanders to the bow. Though that part of the ship is kept in darkness, Silco’s figure is even darker and you can see him easily.

Curiosity and something deeper that you do not wish to think about tugs at you. You do your best to ignore it for as long as you are able, but it’s like a persistent buzzing fly hovering around your head.

With a resigned sigh, you get up and move toward the bow. No one stops you or questions you.

You reach Silco’s side and stand quietly in the darkness for a moment. You can hear the gentle lap of the water against the ship’s hull and you can see the sparkling array of stars above, but everything else is black.

“If you’ve come to beg for another dance, I’m afraid I will disappoint you,” Silco says, his voice softer than you’ve ever heard it, as though he does not wish the stars to overhear him.

“I wasn’t going to,” you say. “But I was going to ask where you learned to dance like that.”

“It does not take much to learn how to waltz,” he says. Though you cannot see his face, save for the glow of his ruined eye, you get the sense that he’s avoiding something.

“It’s not just that,” you say. “You dance like a gentleman. You carry yourself like a gentleman. You speak like a gentleman, for the most part. Yet, you’re…”

“A pirate? A sea hound? A scoundrel? A criminal?”

“You could have stopped at pirate but yes,” you nod, earning a soft chuckle from Silco. “But even still, you’re nothing like the pirates my father has encountered.”

“I’ll admit to that,” he says. “I am not like any other pirate roaming the seas. I have no wish to scavenge from trade ships. If I wished to fight for scraps with a thousand other desperate fools, I would have stayed in the Undercity.”

Silco does not need to see your face to know his words have thrown you.

“Is it more believable that a pirate can carry himself well than it is to believe a gutter rat can do the same?”

“I have not known what to believe for several days now,” you say. “I’d be willing to believe almost anything.”

The chuckle that leaves Silco’s throat is dry and humorless. “The Piltover Naval Academy loves bottomfeeders with a sad story.”

Your eyes widen in the darkness.

Of course, that makes perfect sense. He wasn’t daunted by the storm. He runs his ship with precision and discipline one would not attribute to ordinary pirates. He’s managed to instill a sense of both fear and loyalty in his crew. And those who attend the academy are taught etiquette, dance, deportment, and anything else that can shape them into shining jewels of society.

Your mind snaps back to the day you were kidnapped, before everything went to hell. Captain Vander spoke of the academy briefly. There was a moment when a shadow fell over his features as he spoke of his past. And he knew Silco. As did Quartermaster Benzo.

“Did you know Captain Vander?” You ask softly, unsure if you wish to know the answer or not.

Silence stretches out between you and Silco. Even though you are within arms reach of him, you feel as though you may as well be an ocean away.

“Yes.” His voice is soft yet somehow still harsh. Bitter but sad.

“Were you…close?” you ask, unsure if there is a better way to phrase it. The way Captain Vander looked at Silco aboard The Hound went beyond normal anger. There was history there.

“For a time,” Silco replies.

You’re shocked that he gave you any kind of real answer.

“What happened?” You press, wanting to see how far you can take your questions.

“Professional differences,” Silco mutters. “It doesn’t matter.”

“I think it does.”

Silco turns to look at you as silence falls once more. Though you can barely make out his features, you can see he is fighting some kind of war within himself. You are about to take the high road and apologize for prying, as the rules of polite conversation demand, when the ship suddenly heaves hard to one side.

Unable to right yourself in time, you start to fall. Silco’s arm snakes around your waist as he pulls you to him, allowing you to use his body to steady yourself. Farther down the deck, the crew voices their confusion amongst themselves, unsettled by the sudden jolt.

“What was that?” You ask, turning your gaze to the sky as though you expect another terrible storm to blow in out of nowhere. But the skies are perfectly clear and the wind is calm. The ocean, however, tells a different story. The faint light of the torches reaches the water closest to the ship. Instead of the calm, docile sea, the Zaun’s Revenge glided on only moments ago, the water was as violent as a bubbling cauldron.

“Get back,” Silco urges, guiding you away from the railing.

“What is it?” You repeat.

Silco does not get a chance to answer. In the blink of an eye, the sea erupts. At first, you fear the ship has nudged some kind of explosive. You can think of nothing else that would explain the towering column of water rising just off the starboard bow.

The water crashes back down to the ocean’s surface except that it doesn’t. Water rolls off the form of something huge, something that also looks like water. You blink over and over, trying to make sense of what you are seeing.

You spot two glowing orbs that shine brilliant blue, brighter than any star in the sky. They look like glowing stones that are somehow perfectly round. Your stomach drops as the crew leaps to action around you and more torches are quickly illuminated. The glowing stones are not stones at all.

They are eyes.

Glowing, unnatural eyes deeply set into a massive head made entirely of living water. The head boasts a long snout. Water vapor floated like smoke from what you believe to be nostrils. Its long, curving neck ripples as the water that made up its body somehow managed to keep its shape. Its serpentine body vanishes into the sea as its proud head takes in the sight of the ship. Its watery jaw opens revealing long, sharp teeth that look deadly despite also being made of water.

The creature let out a shriek that makes your vision go blurry for a moment. Your mind still grapples with what your eyes attempt to understand but there is one thing you know for certain. You are not safe.

The water monster shrieks once more and dives toward the deck with open jaws.

#silco #arcane #silco x reader #arcane silco #silco arcane #pirate!silco #silco fanfic #silco fic #silco smut #to the depths

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