#soft drunk silco
Note
Thank you so much for commenting on my post, first and foremost! ❤️
One of the ideas I have, that I hope you're up for writing, is along these lines...
Reader w/ a temper, but it only shows when she's in a fight, or if someone insults anybody she's fond of. She has had horrid prior relationships and fears ever trying again, so she tends to just stick to being alone outside of working as an assistant for Silco.
While she's intoxicated, she overhears a patron (rather boldly) badmouthing Silco in his very establishment, and decides to get into a brawl with the patron. That's when she realizes that she's developed some strong feelings for her boss, and ultimately, she ends up having to explain herself directly to Silco, including why the fight started in the first place.
If possible, a resolution/response with Silco after her drunk admission to feelings would be so awesome. ;-; I'm always down for angst, too.
I'd love to see it written, but again, only if you're up for it! Thanks again! ❤️
Thank you for your patience with this, Love! Thank you for letting me breath a little life into your OC/Reader-insert.
I hope you like it <3
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Recover
Summary: See Ask
Warnings: None/SFW, canon typical violence, drunken confessions, a lil' bit of vomit
WC: 5.6K
Notes: Silco x Reader . . . ? Maybe??
Free drinks were one of the perks of your job.
It made the sting of working as Silco’s assistant mellow just a tad.
You knew most would assume that the sting came from the kingpin’s turbulent temper, his meticulous micro-managing, or his insatiable appetite for power. And while each of those attributes could be challenging at times, none of them actually got under your skin. On the contrary, they were traits you admired: his passion, his vision, his drive.
Admired . . . yes, that was the word. You would entertain nothing else.
There was no point to anything else.
A sardonic huff burst through your lips, sending the bourbon beneath them rippling in the glass. Knocking back the last of your drink, you set the tumbler on the bar top with a hefty, slightly careless thunk. Thieram looked up from the glass he was drying, brow furrowing.
“Another, please, Thieram.” You tapped the bar for good measure.
Thieram gave the glass in his hand a couple more squeaky wipes before setting it down and turning to the wall of liquor behind him. As he fetched the expensive bottle from the top shelf (if all your drinks were free, why not lean in?) your eyes slid around The Last Drop. While it was late, it wasn’t quite late enough for the bar to be in its infamous, full, raucous swing. Older, tired Trenchers (people left over from Vander’s days) sat heavily at the bar around you; small huddles of weary faces sat shoulder-to-shoulder at tables; a small group played a relatively quiet game of billiards over at the large, felted table.
As Thieram returned and poured another two fingers-worth into your glass, your eyes spied Sevika at the far end of the room. A murky plume of smoke rising above her and the two men she was currently swindling in cards. Her full lips hooked in an insufferable grin around her cigarillo as her playthings upped their antes. The next thing your eyes meandered to were the stairs that led to The Drop’s upper levels. To the club’s balcony. And then the private quarters. To Silco’s office. Where you had left him after he thanked and dismissed you for the day.
A perfunctory thanks mumbled from your mouth as you lifted your freshened drink to your lips. The liquor burned delicious and warm down your gullet, grateful for the way it soothed your tired body, relaxed your tangled mind, and numbed your aching heart.
Placing the drink down, your hand swiveled the bottom of the glass against the lacquered bar top, watching as the liquor within spin in a small whirlpool. You didn’t want them to, but your eyes lifted to the neon clock above Thieram’s head. In about an hour’s time, you knew, the club would fill with younger, louder Zaunites and the more rambunctious of Silco’s goons. The lights would pulse. The music would rattle the bar’s foundation. Cheap liquor would flow. Shimmer would be smoked. Gambling. Soliciting. Probably at least one fight.
And he would be there.
You hated that you knew that. Hated that you still knew your ex’s schedule. Hated that he didn’t have the decency to frequent a different club, knowing that this was the one you worked in. He had been the one to break up with you, so his insistence on showing his stupid face was aggravating and spiteful.
You’d be loathe to admit it, but it hurt you.
And it hurt that he knew that, but he still came to The Last Drop like clockwork. Like the time you spent together was some sort of meaningless joke.
Asshole.
At least he hadn’t been as bad as . . .
You stopped that thought in its tracks and knocked the rest of your drink back. A mistake, you quickly realized, as your esophagus rebelled against the onslaught of liquid fire trying to surge its way to your stomach. Catching the cough behind your teeth, some of the beverage rose back up into your mouth where it found refuge in the rounded bubbles of your cheeks.
Luckily, no one but Thieram seemed to notice.
“Smooth.”
Wrestling down the wayward booze, you sneered at him. “Swallowed wrong.”
“Uh-huh,” he grunted. “That stuff isn’t meant to be shot. Didn’t the boss explain that when he first let you taste it?”
Another unwelcome, unfounded zing scratched across your heart.
You bit the inside of your cheek and glared at the bartender. After a beat, you pushed the empty tumbler across the bar toward him and firmly tapped the space next to it. Thieram’s deep set eyes fell to the glass, unimpressed.
“Don’t waste it this time,” he warned, snatching the heavy ornate glass bottle back off the shelf. He poured a finger’s worth and turned to put the bottle back.
“Hey!” you cried. Thieram stopped and looked back at the incredulous expression on your face. Gesturing to the too-empty glass, you said, “What gives?”
His fingers tightened almost protectively around the neck of the bottle.
“I don’t want you wasting it,” he answered. “I don’t need Silco asking me why the books aren’t adding up at the end of the month.”
Your eyes rolled so far back that you thought you might’ve glimpsed your brain.
“Free drinks are part of my compensation, Chuck.” A thrilling, warm tingle shivered under your skin as you watched him flinch at the nickname. “Silco allows me that bourbon. Pour me that bourbon.”
Thieram hesitated a moment more before he stepped back up to the bar and tipped an additional splash into your tumbler. Holding his gaze, you brought the glass to your lips – pinky up! – and took an exaggeratedly small sip. He pursed his lips and rehomed the bottle on the top shelf, surreptitiously nudging it a little farther back than its neighbors, before tending to other patrons at the bar.
With the barman’s attention gone, your hackles drooped and a heavy, lonely feeling pressed under your skin. You took another sip of your drink, relishing the warmth wrapping you up from the inside out. As you continued to nurse and appreciate the fine liquor, the unwelcome sense of being watched interrupted your balmy journey into inebriation.
You may ‘only’ be Silco’s assistant, working relatively safely within the confines of his office . . . and at his side –
That weird little zing ricocheted behind your ribs again, like a little bird beating its wings against its cage, trying furiously to free itself. You cleared your throat and your mind of the previous thought.
You may ‘only’ be Silco’s assistant, doing paperwork and pushing pencils, but you had worked for him long enough, lived in Zaun long enough to know when you were being eyeballed.
The rim of the tumbler rested on your lower lip again, and while you took another smooth sip your hooded eyes nonchalantly skirted the bar. No one seemed to be paying you any mind, instead favoring shoulder-cramping hunches that kept their eyes in their drinks. Setting your glass down, you swallowed and casually turned right and left on your stool, miming a search for your bag. As you did so, your eyes briefly lifted to the patrons who were closest to your sides.
Bingo.
A stool down from you to your right, some old codger kept sneering at you and then muttering into his beverage. Continuing your charade, you turned your attention back to your drink. Your elbows rested steadily on the bar top and your hands gently cupped your glass. The amber liquor within wavered a bit, the surface catching and flashing the bar lights prettily. A too-steady calm grounded your bones. You waited and listened.
“What was that?” you asked suddenly and sharply, snapping your head in the man’s direction.
The man jerked in his seat, his drink sloshing a bit over the rim of his tankard. Grumbling, he snatched up a bar napkin and wiped away the small spill. He looked over at you.
“What?”
“That’s what I asked you,” you said, voice steady and cold. “Did you say something to me?”
“For Janna’s sake,” he muttered dabbing the napkin against his scraggly mustache and beard. “I didn’ say nuffin’ to you.”
“Oh? You keep staring at me and then mumbling into your ale. You sure you don’t have anything to say to me?”
The liquor in your veins began to bubble with stupid courage. Normally, you would ignore such a person. Tonight, however, the combination of booze, an aching heart, and a weary mind was sending a confrontational itch under your skin. You spun your body on your stool to face the man and sneered at him. Booze streaming hot reactivity through your body swiftly washed away the thought that this might not be a wise idea.
The man glowered back at you, his teeth grinding together. You prayed he took the bait.
After a moment, he clucked his tongue against the back of his teeth and answered your prayer.
“I ‘s just musin’,” he began, bleary eyes falling back to his mug, “how it is tha’ Silco,” he said the name as if it were a rotten, dirty thing to be spat into the dirt, and it made your temper flare, “can afford t’ stock the bar wif that fancy dreck – which I ain’ never seen an’one but you drink, by the way – but apparently don’ave the coin to fix th’mess he’s made.”
Your fingers tightened around your glass. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
The man scoffed and took another sloppy swig of his beer.
“The Drop ain’ what’t used t’be,” he slurred, almost nostalgically. “Vander’d blow ‘is lid if he could see the place now.”
“Vander betrayed us,” you spat, putting the same emphasis around The Hound’s name as the man had around Silco’s. “He made deals with Topside that kept Zaun from progressing.” You licked your lips, deciding whether or not to delve this argument further into the murk with another controversial topic. Taking the plunge, you added, “And then he abandoned the Lanes with his kids when they screwed up. Silco came in and cleaned his mess up.”
The man’s eyes lit up with a fire that almost took you aback. “Abandoned us, did’e? Naw, girl. I’m no fool. Vander was’n trouble, but he’d never skulk off wiff his tail ‘tween his legs. Not The Hound. I know tha’s the lie you n’ the rest o’ his lot try’n tell us, but I’ll lick Heimerdinger’s boot a’fore’ll believe he left wiff’is kids to leave the Lanes in the slimy hands o’ that rat-faced bastard.”
He took another swig of his ale, half of which dribbled down his chin.
“’Sides,” he continued, “Vander didn’ take all them chitlers wiff ‘im, did’e?” His eyes slid upward to the balcony above you.
Against your better judgement, your head turned and tilted up. A scrawny leg with a too-big shoe dangled from the edge of the upper-level, gently swaying off-beat to the jangly music that filled The Drop. Jinx didn’t seem to be paying attention to anything but the small handful of metal scraps between her fingers. A screwdriver was tucked between her lips and her brow was crunched in concentration as she fiddled with her contraption. She was allowed to meander around The Drop until night fully fell and the club became rowdy with debauchery. At that point she was sequestered back in her and Silco’s living quarters an additional floor up.
“Even though that one’s always been a’bit of’n . . . odd duck,” he continued, “Vander wouldn’t’ve left her.”
“Leave her out of this,” you warned through grit teeth. You’d taken a shine to the young girl Silco brought back from the cannery and your protectiveness of her was only rivaled by that of Silco’s.
The drunk huffed a wheezy laugh. “Oh yeah, wouldn’ wanna bad talk the great Eye of Zaun’s crazy new toy.”
Your fingers squeezed so tightly around your glass that you were surprised it hadn’t shattered.
“I worked wiff’im, Lass,” he slurred, leaning in with a condescending sneer etching his face in deep, craggy channels, “in the mines. Him n’ Vander. Was always a selfish, meddlin’, no-good pipsqueak. Always tailin’ after Vander, ridin’ his coattails. Even now, tha’s what he’s doin’. Vander did all the hard work t’get The Lanes steady n’ then that opportunistic rat scurried in with his mindless, spineless goons n’ did ‘im in. Silco don’ care a lick for t’Undercity. He’s an ugly, schemin’, chinless, buck-toothed – “
You were not in control of what happened next. Even though you were the one who reacted. In a flash, your drink – your expensive drink – was thrown into the man’s face. He cried out and squeezed his eyes tightly as the alcohol burned them. Next, you smashed your tumbler over his skull. The glass shattered and he wailed, toppling off his barstool.
Blood pounded in your ears. Your vision tunneled in on the man scrambling off of the floor. Your arms and legs tingled with adrenaline and fire, rage curdling your blood, as you launched to your feet. Swiping the man’s tankard from the bar and hurling it in his direction. So blinded by your fury, so intent on beating the bastard to a pulp, you didn’t hear or see the bar’s reaction to the sudden fight.
Thieram had yelped and dropped the bottle he was pouring from. The other patrons at the bar jerked their attention away from nursing their drinks; some even backed up and away from your fray. One of the people at the billiards table jumped and scratched a jagged hole in the table’s felt top. The two men playing cards with Sevika spun in their seats, and the Lieutenant herself dropped the cards she was shuffling. Jinx’s body jolted and she tucked her legs up into her chest, big, dewy eyes wide with fear as she watched you attack the man. After a moment, she leapt to her feet and ran upstairs.
The man managed to throw an arm up that prevented the mug of ale from clocking him in the temple. The beer spilled across the floor and the stein bounced and rolled away under a table. Grabbing the man by the collar, you hauled him to his feet, intent on smashing his stupid face into the bar railing. However, as you lifted him (with strength you didn’t know you had) his hand swept across the bar, grabbed a dirty glass and cracked it across your face.
Yelling, you stumbled back, bumping into your stool. One of your hands cupped your numb cheek and felt wetness beneath your palm. He lunged at you, crashing his head into your ribs and wrapping his arms around your middle, causing you both to tumble back.
You hit the floor. Hard. Your spine spasmed and what air was left in your lungs was forcefully pushed out in a stinging wheeze. Your hand wrapped around the leg of a barstool and pulled, crashing it onto your assailant’s back. Something cracked. He roared. Hooking your legs around his waist, you squeezed and rolled the two of you over. Now on top, you bared your teeth and pummeled his face with alternating punches.
Too soon for your liking, a large metal hand grasped the back of your neck and lifted you off the man’s chest. Hissing and kicking, you did your damnedest to try and break free from Sevika’s grip. She was saying something to you – dressing you down – but you couldn’t hear it through the mighty pumping of your vengeful heart. To your abject horror and disgust the man clambered to his feet and spat some teeth onto the floor. He fixed his eyes on you, hot and furious, and took a step towards you and your keeper.
“Back off, buddy. It’s over,” you managed to hear Sevika say.
Over? Over? Like hell it was over! The idea of letting this ass-hat walk out of here after bad-mouthing Silco and Jinx renewed your need to fight. The idea of having to return to your melancholy mind sent destructive fear through your veins. Wriggling under Sevika’s iron grasp, you managed a lucky kick to her groin. She gasped and buckled forward, dropping you.
Freedom sent adrenaline surging through your veins and you launched yourself back at the drunk, fists thumping against his ribs. He coughed and sputtered, staggering back. Clawing at your shirt, he immobilized you enough to jut his knee up into your stomach. A choked cry tore from your bloody mouth and you fell. Before his boot found your hand or head, you scurried back, grabbing a pool cue someone had dropped. The cue extended your arm enough that is it swept through the air it caught your adversary behind the knees. He buckled and crashed to the ground with an outraged wail. As you rose to your feet, you thrust the cue in Sevika’s direction as she made another grab at your shirt. The larger woman snarled, but you didn’t care.
The cue smacked and cracked against the floor as you tried to deliver a blow to the fallen man, but he rolled out of the way and used a grip of the bar railing to clamber to his feet. Abandoning your broken weapon, your hand found a tight grip in the man’s dirty hair and you bashed his face against the bar top. Once again, you failed to notice his wandering hand and he spun back, clocking you across the face with a liquor bottle.
You screamed and reeled back into Sevika’s arms. Before your attacker could hurl himself back at you, bottle in hand, his eyes suddenly went wide and he screamed in agony. You were confused until you saw a familiar, lanky, red, coal, and gold figure in your wavering periphery.
The man was stopped in his tracks by the knife Silco had speared through his free hand, pinning him to the bar. The Eye of Zaun’s lips curled in a bone chilling sneer and he yanked the bottle from the drunk’s hand. To his credit the bloodied and beaten man did not cower in Silco’s presence, despite the Eye’s imposing figure and the blade skewering his hand. The two men stared at each other; Silco’s chin held high, glaring down his nose at the drunk. The drunk huffed breaths through swollen and bloody lips, his eyes bulging with hate as he looked up into Silco’s face before spitting into it.
Without missing a beat, the kingpin cracked the bottle across the drunk’s temple. His eyes rolled back and he collapsed, slumping against the bar, the knife tearing into his hand as the weight of his body heaved to the floor.
“Back upstairs, Jinx,” Silco barked as he took a pocket square from his waistcoat and wiped the saliva from his scarred cheek.
Your eyes jumped over to the stairs and you saw the young girl watching all of you with wide, scared, but interested eyes. Her hands fidgeted and tugged at her shirt’s hem and her bottom lip was tucked safely behind her top teeth. She looked to Silco and then to you, her eyebrows ticking up behind her jagged bangs.
“Jinx,” Silco insisted, firmly yet kindly.
Her eyes went back to him before turning heel and pattering back upstairs.
The Eye of Zaun turned back to the bar, his eyes landing on you, still slumped in Sevika’s arms. Since his appearance, your wrath had ebbed, replaced by a sense of embarrassment and . . . something else. He looked down at you, taking in your injuries with practiced neutrality. Perhaps you wished it, but you thought something flickered behind his eyes.
It couldn’t be worry, could it?
Before you could search for the look again, he turned his attention to the unconscious man at his feet. His lips curled.
“Get him out of here,” he ordered Thieram. “Tell Lock and Jasper he is not allowed back on the premises. Sevika, take her up to my office.”
An annoyed groan rumbled through the Lieutenant’s arms as she hauled the both of you to your feet. Now that your adrenaline had time to wear off, physical pain was beginning to creep its way into your consciousness. A weak, protesting garble slurred past your swollen lips as Sevika lifted you into her arms. She ignored it, as well as the weak wiggle you gave, and followed Silco back upstairs.
Once in his office, Silco strode to his grand desk.
“Put her on the couch,” he said as he began sifting through the desk’s drawers.
Sevika did so, probably with more care than she wanted to do. Your bottom melted into the couch’s cushions and your spine heaved against the tufted back. Now that your head was back over your shoulders, your vision swam and your brain throbbed.
“You’re dismissed,” came Silco’s voice.
Sevika’s fuzzy form hesitated only for a moment before stalking out of the office, slamming the door behind her. You couldn’t bring yourself to turn your head to look at Silco. Partly out of self-consciousness, partly because your stomach was beginning to curdle and squeeze and you feared you may vomit all over your employer’s furnishings.
As if sensing your thoughts, Silco appeared in front of you, a garbage pail in one hand, a cloth and bottle in the other. He set the trash can next to your knee and sat himself down on the coffee table across from the couch. You made a point to stare at the spot above his head.
“What’s your name?” he asked.
You scoffed, protecting your ego from the ridiculous question. Even though it did take you a beat to remember it. You heard yourself finally answer. Silco nodded as he uncorked the bottle.
“Do you know my name?”
“Silco.” That one was easier.
“Do you know where you are?”
“In your office . . . in The Last Drop.”
“What nation do you live in?”
“Zaun.”
A more satisfied nod bobbled Silco’s head as he dampened the cloth with liquid from the bottle. It smelled strongly of astringent. Too strong. Your stomach roiled, sending you pitching over your lap and vomiting into the wastebin. Silco set the antiseptic and cloth down and reached forward to pull your hair away from your face.
Once your throat was raw and your cheeks streaked with tears, you carefully sat back up, Silco’s hands on your shoulders, gently guiding you back. Once you were propped up, he returned to dosing the cloth.
“What happened?” he asked, leaning forward and pressing the saturated cloth to your cheek.
You hissed at the sting and squeezed your eyes shut. An action that sent another almighty throb through your skull.
“I fought a guy.”
“Yes, that’s what Jinx told me,” he said patiently, dabbing blood off your cheek. “What led you to assault a customer?”
Your now empty stomach dipped. Was he angry? Disappointed? Were you about to be fired? Your jaw moved side to side and you chewed on your tongue, not realizing you didn’t answer his question.
Silco’s dual-colored eyes searched your distant face as he continued to wipe it clean.
“I’m wondering if I hired you for the wrong position,” he quipped. Your breathing stilled as you looked at him. Silco didn’t smile, so you assumed your rattled brain was imagining the small tilt of his lips. “I didn’t know you were so quick on your feet or ferocious in a fight. Perhaps your skills are wasted being my assistant – “
“I like being your assistant.”
The words flew from your mouth before you could stop them, much less think about them. Silco stilled in his attentions and your face flushed horribly. Embarrassment bolstered by liquor coursing just under your skin in cherry red splotches.
Silco’s face softened, as did his voice. “I like you as my assistant, as well.”
Your heart fluttered something horribly wonderful behind your ribs. The flush of your cheeks deepened.
“That doesn’t answer my question, though,” Silco said, tone back to something commanding. “What cause did you have to fight that man?”
Once again, you averted your gaze, dropping your eyes down to your cracked, bruised, and bloodied knuckles.
“He . . . he,” you stammered, unwilling to admit what had sent you into such a blind rage.
The sound of Silco saying your name pulled you from your whirling mind. You bashfully looked to him, seeing his aqua and red eye fixed on you.
He really does have lovely eyes, the liquor in your blood whispered.
Silco spoke before any other intrusive thoughts could sing under your skin.
“You know I value loyalty above all else,” he said. “Honesty is a tenant of loyalty. Now tell me, why were you fighting that man?”
“Because he was speaking poorly of you,” you admitted, your eyes darting away from his.
Silco’s hand paused in its cleaning of your face. You felt his eyes on you in a meaningful way. He let out a small sigh before taking up one of your hands and began to tend to your knuckles.
“There are plenty of Zaunites who do not agree with my leadership,” he mused and you watched his fingers tend to your own.
He held your hand so, so softly. Not as if he were fearful of hurting you, nor as if he didn’t want to touch you. He held it reverently. You couldn’t remember anyone ever touching you in such a way.
“Even the Chem-Barons have their qualms about me,” Silco continued. “For the most part it is petty jealousy parading as gossip. Childish, but benign and meaningless. I will not spare my thoughts or energy on those who do not like me. I am only interested in freeing Zaun.”
Well, I’m interested in you, the booze swimming in your head countered. You hiccupped as a means to stop that thought from coming out of your mouth.
“Why do you give your attention to such people?” he asked, switching the hand he was working on.
“Because everyone should understand and respect how hard you’re working,” you mumbled through swollen lips. “They should be grateful for your passion.”
His thumb swept affectionately over the top of your hand as he cleaned your knuckles. It was the action that proved to be your undoing. Sighing, you allowed your careful mind to rest and let the looseness of liquor coat your insides. Your fingers curled gently, awkwardly around Silco’s hand. It was very warm. Soft in some places, but firm in others where chronic calluses used to blossom and build. His hand stilled in your own, but he made no attempt to pull away. You weren’t certain, but he may have even firmed up his own grip.
“I am grateful for your passion, Silco,” you murmured. Finally, you lifted your gaze to his. “I like being your assistant because I get to see you up close. Your passion, your vision, your drive. It inspires me. I’ve never seen anything like it. I wouldn’t want to work the streets because I wouldn’t get to be with you.”
Silco’s lips parted infinitesimally, and his blue eye widened a touch. He reached his free hand up and gently touched your sore and swollen cheek. An unbidden hiss swept through your teeth and the swell of your cheek rose up in a wince. The little wonder left Silco’s face, his brow furrowed and hand dropped away.
“No!” you cried, vocal cords cracking under the sudden explosion of sound.
Your body leaned forward to chase his hand, but the bourbon and fight made you body sloppy and heavy. The lean veered over to the right, and you would’ve toppled ass-over-tea-kettle if Silco hadn’t caught you, his large hands cupping each shoulder blade. The plump cushion of your cheek smashed against his chest and your leadened arms looped around his thin waist.
“You smell good,” came the drunken mumble from your lips, voice muffled by the silken fabric of his waistcoat.
Silco’s ribcage spasmed in a huff. You weren’t sure if it was amusement or disgust. However, as his hands pressed into your back and held you closer, your foolish heart leapt, fueled by disbelief and hope. The warmth brushed against the scarred wounds etched in the organ, and your logical brain surged back on line. But before you pressed yourself away from his chest, Silco rested his cheek against your hair.
“Thank you,” he whispered, “for your fierce and unwavering loyalty. For me and Jinx. For Zaun.”
Like a switch, your brain flipped back off and your drunk heart melted further against his. After some time, Silco carefully lifted you up, his hands shifting to hold the fronts of your shoulders. Your watery gaze slid up to his. Once again, he went to brush his thumb against your bruised cheek.
“This cut is very deep. I’m wondering if – “
Silco’s wonder was cut off by the press of your mouth on his. A most un-kingpinly squeak peeped out from him, but he didn’t pull away. He tasted like cigars, Shimmer, and warmth. And home.
With a loud smack! you broke away from him and flopped onto the couch.
“I like you, Silco,” you slurred, eyelids and head growing heavy.
Your feet shifted against the rug, knees knocking in together as you considered standing.
“I should go,” you yawned. Your legs didn’t move. “Am I walking to the door yet?”
“No,” came Silco’s voice. A combination of something amused and baffled. “You’re not leaving, anyhow.”
“No, no. I can’t stay. You’ve already done enough – “
“Nonsense. You’re concussed. And drunk. You’re staying.”
Silco rose to his feet, cupping the back of your legs, gently spinning you on your seat until you were horizontal on the couch. He propped your head and back up with several cushions and retrieved a blanket from the steam trunk behind the couch, covering your body.
“Silco, you don’t have to do this,” you grumbled, although you did nothing to stop him.
“Shush. The Brothers and Sisters of Zaun are loyal to each other. I will work and keep an eye on you,” he murmured, brushing the hair out of your face.
“Are you doing this just because I said I liked you?” The question mumbled through your lips, as you rubbed your face snuggly into the back of the couch.
“No,” he answered. You were on the fringes of a drunk sleep, so you weren’t sure if you imagined him saying, “I’m doing this because I like you, too.”
It felt like you slept a thousand years. At least, you felt like you were a thousand years old as you awoke the following morning. Your body ached, but it was nothing to how your head throbbed and pounded. The bed beneath you felt strange and stiff. Perhaps because it wasn’t a bed at all, you realized, but a couch. You dared to crack your eyes open and you saw red upholstery. Then you smelled . . . cigars.
Your body jerked and jolted up. An action you quickly regretted as the column of your spine spasmed and skull exploded. Groaning, your arms gathered around your knees and dropped your forehead to them. As quickly as your addled brain could piece thoughts together, the previous night swam up in wavering ripples and puddles.
You nursing a chronically aching heart with the expensive bourbon Silco allowed you.
Listening to some twat talk out his ass.
Knocking said twat on his ass.
But he got a few hits in, too, remembering a glass and bottle to your dome.
Silco stopped him before he could rattle you any further.
Silco tended to your wounds. He pulled the hair from your face when you threw up.
Cautiously glancing down at the floor, you spied a clean waste basket. On the coffee table there was a tray that held a silver pitcher and a waiting glass. And a bottle of painkillers.
Your stomach reeled, but not from your aching head. How you had behaved, what you had said, what you did flooded your mind. The blood and warmth drained from your hungover face. Nervously, your eyes peered over your shoulder.
Thank Janna.
He was not at his desk. You might still be able to get out of here with what was left of your dignity. Gingerly, your feet found the floor and your toes flexed inside your boots. Gripping the seat cushion, you prepared to haul yourself onto your woozy legs, but your eyes got stuck on the tray of water and medicine in front of you. Where he had sat.
Silco tended to your wounds. Held your hair from your face. Held you to him when you tumbled forward. He didn’t pull away when you kissed him – GODS! You couldn’t believe you did that! You knew better! Professionally and personally. He didn’t rebuke your drunken . . . confession . . .
The ground felt like it crumbled beneath your feet. Your insides went cold.
You liked him. Not just admired. Liked. Crushed. Infatuated.
Despite the fact that prior relationships had taught you better, you fell again. For your boss.
For the Eye of Zaun.
You were screwed. You’d never recover from this.
The office door opened and you jumped.
“You’re awake,” Silco noted, closing the door behind him.
He was dressed just in his trousers and button-up shirt. His hair wasn’t quite coifed yet and his scar laid bare. The green light streaming in from the window beyond his desk bathed him in an eerily beautiful light. The picture of Zaun itself.
His face was soft in the morning and its light. He smiled.
“May we talk?”
Maybe you wouldn’t want to recover from this.
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Notes: Thank you for reading this too long one-shot! If you liked it, please comment/reblog :)
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Tired: Silco’s nickname when he was young being ‘Sil’ (which is still a cute nickname anyway)
Wired: Silco’s nickname when he was young being ‘Coco’
#aksjfhlsdkfjhgjh#this is what happens when i don't sleep#Just#Vander being all soft#'Howzit goin Coco?'#'Don't call me that'#AUGGGGGHHHHH#I hope people agree with me#also it kinda goes along with the whole Pow Pow nickname?#idk#i just think its cute#Silco#Vander#Arcane#Thoughts of a drunk disaster
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Snippet - Tipping Point - Forward, but Never Forget/XOXO
Silco forces Vander's hand beyond all recourse.
Forward but Never Forget/XOXO
Snippet:
"They're like a cult," Vander said, their last night together.
Silco didn't glance up. He'd been sitting at the Drop's table, hands laced under his chin, poring over a map. Black ink, red ink. Blue strings running in between, like the veins in a corpse. He'd been at it all evening, and his eyeballs vibrated. So did the rest of him.
Usually, he'd take the percolating mania and channel it into Sevika. She was a solid presence: always available, always hungry. By now, he'd all but moved into hers and Nandi's flat. There was gossip, as there was bound to be. Neither he nor Sevika gave a toss.
Nandi was gone, and he couldn't shake her loss.
But at least he could fuck his way out of the grief.
That's what he and Sevika did, most nights: fucked, then slept, then fucked again. Mornings, they'd wake with sour mouths, and sour moods. He'd brew her tea, and she'd suck his cock under the table. Afterward, they'd share a plateful of sump-vole fritters, and plot the day's course. Then she'd leave for her patrol, and he'd go to work at the Drop. Evenings, they'd rendezvous at Jericho's. A little more planning, a little more fucking. She'd rub his shoulders, or he'd knead her calf-muscles. She'd feed him bits of smoked sardines, and he'd eat her out until her toes curled. Then, after the drinks were drunk and the dishes were washed, they'd fall into bed again.
Rinse, lather, repeat.
It wasn't love—neither of them was ready for that. But it was easy. It was enough. A rhythm he could fall into; a routine she could count on. Sevika wasn't Nandi. Everything about her was a fraction heavier, harder, coarser. She wasn't soft; she wasn't sweet. But her body was a good one, and her mind a keen one. Her temper could flare; but her humor could cut.
And her laugh, though rare, chased all the shadows out of the gloom.
He could live with that. Hell, he could live for it. Even—love it? In time. When Zaun was theirs, and the dead laid to rest.
Not that night.
That night, the maps wouldn't stop jittering. His mind kept running in circles. Sevika wasn't due till late. There was only Vander.
Only Vander, and his looming shadow.
And Silco's own: darkening the map.
"A cult, you say?" he said. A fortnight, he thought. The time's nearly up. "That's high praise."
"Is it?" Vander's chin jerked towards the flapping door, where a pair of scrappers had just slunk out. "That lot were practically beggin' for commands. Looked at you like you were a bloody god." He grimaced. "Makes my skin crawl."
"They're useful." Silco stirred the page with a fingertip. "Steady hands."
"An' sharp knives." Vander's brows bristled. "I ain't seen a lick of their faces, but I bet they're young. Too young for this kind of job."
"We were all too young."
"And look what happened." Vander crossed his arms over his chest, his face granite except for the vein throbbing in his temple. His jowls were furred with stubble; all attempts at grooming had ceased the past few weeks. "The Lanes are crawlin' with their sort lately. They'd kill their own mothers for coin. An' you've got a talent for pickin' the worst."
"Perhaps," Silco rejoined, "I prefer company with an ounce of ambition."
"Ambition's the least of their bloody traits!"
"Vander, use your thick head. We're at war." Silco tapped the maps with an idleness that belied his irritation. "And war needs more than soldiers and stalwart hearts. It needs spies and saboteurs. People who'll do the dirty work without compromising the cause. I have my contacts, and they have theirs. If it weren't for them, we'd have no way to ship our goods."
"We wouldn't have a bunch of cutthroats loose in the Lanes, neither."
"We've always had cutthroats."
"Not this many!" Vander's fist slammed against the table, rattling the glassware. Once, Silco would've jerked. Now, his body-language betrayed nothing. Passions were a volatile commodity; a good leader could ill-afford to succumb to his own. He'd learnt the hard way and meant to profit from the lesson. "They're a fuckin' infestation! Eyes like dead things an' smiles like wolves. They've got no limits. All they want is blood."
"The world's made them that way."
"An' you're the one exploiting 'em."
"I'm offering them a choice."
"Are you?" Vander glowered, looming into his space. "What are their options, huh? Down the gutter, or up the river? They're not loyal, Silco. They're fanatical. To you."
"To us," Silco corrected.
"I didn't ask for a cult!"
"Then maybe you should!"
Their eyes locked from across a flashpoint of inches. In their debates, as a rule, Silco weighed Vander's words before his own. It was a practice borne of equity: no partnership comes without compromise. Lately, though, they never debated. He'd get an earful of strident moralism.
Tonight he'd had enough.
"Right now, our plans are only partially done,” he said. “But unless we get every cutthroat, snitch and sneak-thief on our side, they'll be undone. The Wardens will kill us all. You. Me. Sevika. Benzo. They'll raze the Lanes to the ground, and salt the ashes. And when the smoke clears, the soft ones—the ones like Nandi, like Lika and her girls, like your two boys—will be put to work. All our children will die before they've a chance to live. Is that what you want?"
"Don't make this somethin' it's not." Vander's jaw jutted. "You think I don't want Topside's boot off our necks? You think I wouldn't give anything to make sure our kids breathe easy? You think I don't think back on Bloody Sunday every single damn day? What was lost? What you—" Silco's head tilted, a basilisk lifting, and Vander backed off just enough to avoid his stare. "...what we could've done."
"Could've. Would've. Should've." Silco's eyes descended to subzero. "All excuses for a failure to act now. Or maybe the Hound's losing his teeth?"
Vander's nostrils flared. He unbent to his full height stepped around the counter, a slow, lumbering turn. His shadow engulfed Silco like a fist.
"If you had any idea," he said, a whiskey-waft of heat. "Any. How much I'd like to—"
"To what?" Silco challenged. "Discipline? Force me to obey? Do try. I could use a spot of fun."
Vander seized a fistful of his shirtfront. The next moment, Silco found himself being dragged across the countertop. The whiskey glasses toppled to the floorboards. The ledgers and maps scattered. He was half-slung through the air, the room upside-down before the breath was knocked out of him.
His spine hit the wall, legs dangling. A fist pinned him in place.
Vander's features were contorted, a red-hot fury at once leashed and explosive. His fingers closed around Silco's throat. He didn't squeeze. Not yet. But the threat was there.
"D'you even listen to yourself?" he gritted. "D'you have a shred of decency left? Or did Nandi's death knock it all outta you? She'd be ashamed. To see you. To see what you're doin'!"
Silco let one corner of his mouth curl. "What am I doing?"
"You know damnwell what!"
The nights, he meant.
The plainclothesmen gutted in the shadows. Their bodies left in the open where everyone could see. The edge of Silco's knife never clean when he came home.
"It's not the way," Vander said, a hairline crack in his voice. "You know it isn't."
"You haven't stopped me."
"Stopped you?" Vander's knuckles flexed. "I've tried. Every day since you started. I thought...you'd get it out of your system. You'd snap out of it. But you haven't. You won't. You've gotten a taste for it."
"I have a taste for keeping us alive."
"You have a taste for murder!" Vander shook him. "An' I can't keep turnin' a blind eye. You're the best thing that's happened to the Lanes, Blut. If the Undercity had to choose, they'd have my back. But we'd all be six feet under without you! That's why you need to get your shit together. Because when this is over, I won't let you walk away."
"Threats, Vander?"
"This has gone far enough." Vander's pitch dropped. The Hound's warning rumble. "If you cross the line again, I won't hesitate."
"You won't have to."
"What?"
"The Sheriff has issued a search warrant. In a fortnight, the Enforcers will crack down." Silco's eyes went past Vander's shoulder, where the maps had fallen. "A citywide sweep. We'll lose the advantage. Our networks, our stockpiles. Everything. Unless—"
Vander's hold on his neck tightened. "Unless what?"
"We strike first."
"First." Vander's grip stayed immobile. But his stare was no longer a blister. It was a burn: eating Silco alive. "Fuck. This is what you've been planning."
"A smokescreen."
Silco's fingers folded around Vander's wrist. It didn't budge. Vander was strong; the strongest he'd ever known. Struggling was besides the point. Part of him was already prepared to go all the way. To let go and take Vander with him into the freefall of blackness.
"The Enforcers bodies will divert Topside's attention," Silco went on. "Their patrols will be spread thin. The bodies were all near the Canal Zone. They'll believe our operation was concentrated there. Meanwhile, the guardposts at Bridgeside will be understaffed. We'll deploy the squads to transport the ammo. If everything goes as planned, the Lanes will have the full arsenal by tomorrow night. Then, the real war will begin."
"Blut..."
"Think. You'll have everything. A force. Firepower. Enough to drive Topside out of our streets for good."
Vander's fist clenched and unclenched. His eyes roved the room, the empty stools, the felled glasses, the scattered plans. His shoulders caved inward.
It wasn't surrender. It was a man, bracing himself against a massing storm.
"How could you?" he rasped. "Silco, how could you?"
"There is no other way."
"Sevika... she knows about this?"
"We had a talk."
"A talk," Vander repeated flatly. "Of course. You're her damned messiah now. That girl was always prowlin' for someone to take her old man's place. Someone who'd give her orders. Who'd make her feel strong. I told you not to play games with her. To not lead her on. To not—do this!"
With renewed disgust, Vander shoved him away. Silco swayed but kept his balance. Vander's fingerprints burned around his throat.
"That's why you chose her, isn't it?” Vander went on. “Her gang's the most coordinated in the Lanes. The most ruthless. Our folks respect 'em, but they fear 'em, too. They're perfect for what you've got planned." When Silco stayed silent, he shook his head. "For Janna's sake, Blut. She's barely twenty-two. You were supposed to be her family. Her mentor. Not the person who puts the goddamn matches in her hand!"
Silco snapped. Low-blows made for the deepest cuts.
"You used me first, remember? When I was sixteen and you were twenty-one. You knew I'd do anything for you. You knew I'd follow you to the ends of the earth. You've always known, and still you've never had the guts to do what should be done. So I have. Because someone has to. Someone with a spine, and the balls to take what's theirs."
"Fuckin' hell." Vander's face had changed. The lines carved deep, shadows in the hollows of his cheekbones. He looked both worn to the bone, and blasted open. "All these years. All these years... an' you never let it go. Why couldn't you let it go? Why couldn't you forgive me?"
"Why couldn't you?!"
The air was charged with currents. Silco's body sang. Like a sea-change: skin sloughing off, and something raw and primal birthing itself. Something he'd known was always inside him, and was now in its last throes of transformation. He had no name for it but he knew its shape.
It was a part of him. A monster. Same as Vander's.
"I'm not asking for forgiveness," Silco said softly. "Nor am I giving it. But I am asking you to do what's necessary. For us."
"Us," Vander repeated, the word scraped raw.
"Our city. Because Zaun will die if we don't do this, Vander. So will everyone we love." Silco took a step towards him. Vander shuddered. He felt the tremor. Felt the monster behind it. The two of them: feeding off each other. A decades-long twining of call-and-response. "We can't keep on like this. You. Me. Sevika. Benzo. Lika. We've been fighting our fates since we were children. Now it's time to take the fight to Topside."
"Blut..."
"We can win this. We have the weapons. We have the people. We have the resolve. We just need you."
“Me?”
"You're the Hound of the Underground. Our champion. Because that's not me, Vander. It will never be me. No matter what those scrappers, or Sevika, or you, or anyone says. That's not who I am."
#arcane#arcane league of legends#arcane silco#silco#forward (never forget)/xoxo#forward but never forget/xoxo#arcane vander#vander#arcane sevika#sevika#arcane zaun#zaun#vanco#vander x silco#snippet#sevilco#silco x sevika
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sev having a crush on you, like so shy ( similar to tatto sevika yk) like reader seems a fuckgirl ( shes not) and for that sev see them like 0 chances ( but is a mutual crush)
that makes sense?
hope youre alright, love your writtingg
this is soooo cute ty for this idea anon!!
men and minors dni
you're a part-time bartender at the last drop, working slow afternoons on the weekdays for some extra cash.
you come in when the bar opens at three, and leave at six when theriam comes in to take over the rowdier night crowd.
beyond pouring drinks, your job mostly consists of listening to loyal patrons bitch and moan. you're a friendly person, people feel naturally drawn to you, and with a few drinks in their system, a friendly face is all the invitation they need to pour their souls out to you.
it's fine by you, you like the job, and silco pays generously.
your favorite part of the job is sevika.
the woman has a lot of downtime between her assignments and meetings with silco, and in the lull between day and night on weekdays, she can almost always be found sitting at the edge of the bar-top, sipping on a whiskey and watching you work.
you guys become fast friends, always laughing together at the stories other patrons tell you from across the bar.
sevika drinks for free as silco's right hand, but she always leaves you a hefty tip, bigger than what her tab would be.
you have a crush on the woman-- how could you not? but you keep it to yourself, well aware of the many lovers sevika has.
sevika's oblivious to her feelings toward you until she saddles up at her usual stool one afternoon after a meeting gone bad, eager to get drunk and forget her whole day.
her eyes land on you, drying glasses and listening to old teddy complain about his bum knee. you laugh, shaking your head at his antics.
you look up briefly, your eyes catching on sevika, and the glass you're polishing slips between your fingers with a crash when you see her.
you rush over to her, stepping over the glass, reaching over the bar to take her chin in your hands. "fuck happened to you?!" you exclaim.
sevika is suddenly unable to speak. she tries to recall if she's ever touched you before, if you've always been this warm. she comes up with nothing. she can't think about much else besides your face, the color of your eyes, and how soft your lips look.
"sevika?" you ask, worried she's got a concussion. she blinks at you.
"uh. got in a fight." she chokes out. you laugh and shake your head, letting her chin go and turning around to pour a drink.
sevika thinks that's the end of it until you slide her whiskey toward her, followed by the bottle. you hold up your finger to say 'one second' and you disappear to sweep up the glass you'd broken and refill empty glasses. she's not sure what to expect-- but it certainly isn't you suddenly rounding the bar with a first aid kit in your hands.
for the second time that night, you've rendered sevika speechless.
you don't notice this time, simply getting to work disinfecting and bandaging the scrapes on her face, a look of concentration on on your face as you gently press and dab up the dried blood on her skin.
"just your face?" you ask. she blinks up at you, clueless. "did you hit your head or something?" you ask, concerned. sevika snaps back to life.
"no." she says, clearing her throat. "no, nothing else."
she spends the rest of the afternoon drinking and watching you, completely unaware of the chatter surrounding her, only focused on you.
have you always been this beautiful? has your laugh always made her feel-- fluttery? what the fuck was happening to her?
it's a crush. it's a fucking crush.
for the first time in her adult life, sevika has a crush on someone. and its you. the person she sees every single fucking day. the only person she'd consider calling a friend. she hates herself for it.
especially because you're so clearly uninterested in her.
you're just doing your job when you talk to her. just being friendly. and of course you're especially friendly with her, she's basically your boss.
plus, sevika sees the way you talk to ran. ran who's younger and friendlier than she is. ran who you laugh with constantly. ran who you light up when you see, running around the bar to hug them.
she keeps it to herself. it's the smartest move, she thinks. she wouldn't even know how to approach you romantically, wouldn't know where to take you out. she only ever goes home and to work-- and occasionally babettes-- something she realized she stopped doing around the same time you started working for the last drop.
god she's fucked.
so instead of doing anything about her feelings, she just enjoys the few hours a day she gets to spend with you.
she memorizes your face, catalogues all your expressions. she watches you pour drinks and silently daydreams about kissing you-- or fucking you, depending on how many drinks shes had.
for months she simply sits and watches. she laughs at your jokes, shakes her head at the crazy patrons, and on the occasion that you pass her a glass and your fingers brush, she bites her lip to keep from smiling.
it comes to a head on a monday. sevika storms into the last drop, pissed from a shitty meeting she'd just finished, only to see you jumping for joy and wrapping ran up in a massive hug. she freezes in the doorway.
something's... wrong with her. she's suddenly cold, all through her body. her throat feels tight, and her eyes feel tingly and oh fuck. she was not going to fucking cry.
she turns around and storms back out of the bar, wandering the streets until your shift's done and it's safe to head back in.
you don't see sevika that night. it's not unusual for you to go a day or two without seeing her, so you're not concerned.
but when thursday rolls around and you still haven't seen her, you start asking around.
ran shrugs, says that sevika's been coming into work all week. you frown.
when you're switching shifts with theriam, he tells you that sevika's been coming in every night, like usual. this makes you pause.
was sevika avoiding you? no, there's no fucking way. sevika's a grown woman whose never had a problem speaking her mind. if she had a problem with you, she'd tell you...
unless she realized you were crushing on her. you haven't been subtle about it, flirting with her, wearing low cut shirts and bending over in front of her, always sneaking glances when you think she's distracted. a pit forms in your stomach.
oh shit. sevika was totally avoiding you. she'd figured you out. fuck.
you don't see sevika again until the following wednesday. after work, you stay at the bar, drinking away your sorrows, chatting with patrons.
it's like you have a sixth sense, something tickling the back of your neck, forcing you to look up at the exact second sevika descends the main stairs into the club. for a moment, you're shocked at how fucking beautiful she is. you hadn't seen her in a week and a half, and you'd managed to forget.
suddenly all the liquor you'd had that night catches up to you. a mixture of rage, impulse, and stupidity overtakes you as you stand from the bar and march up to sevika, furious.
she sees you approach her, and her face drops. you're shocked when sevika-- big bad scary lady sevika-- turns on her heel and marches right out of the bar. you blink, then run after her.
"what the fuck, sevika?" you shout, stumbling out of the last drop and into the cold night air. she freezes, her shoulders coming up to her ears as you approach her from behind.
"leave me alone." she grumbles. you scoff.
"oh, fuck you!" you shout. she turns around, a shocked expression on her face. you laugh, choking on tears. "fuck you sevika." you spit. "so what-- you figure me out and now you won't even fucking talk to me? do i disgust you that much?" she blinks-- her shock melting into confusion. "i thought we were fucking friends!" you shout. sevika blinks at you.
"what are you talking about?" she asks, baffled. you scoff and wipe your tears away.
"i get that you're a fuckin' player, or whatever, and i understand i had a snowball's chance in hell with you-- but i thought you'd be a decent fucking friend, at least." you mumble. you turn to storm back into the bar but are stopped when sevika's hand clamps on your shoulder.
she spins you around and you gasp. "what are you talking about?" she asks again. you blink.
"...you don't know?" you ask hesitantly.
"i don't know what?" she says.
"that i-- wait. if you didn't figure it out then why are you avoiding me?" you ask.
"figure what out?"
"answer my question first." you demand. sevika cringes.
"i-- i'm just being a bitch." she mumbles. you laugh.
"well yeah, i got that, but why?"
"'cause i fuckin--!" sevika starts with a shout, pauses and takes a deep breath. "i have... feelings for you." she whispers. "and i know you're with ran so i just--"
"wait." you say, holding a hand up. you feel dizzy. "wait." you repeat. "what about me and ran?" you ask.
"i-- i saw you guys last monday. you were all over them. i won't tell anyone if that's what you're worr--"
"sevika," you butt in, "ran and i are not together." she blinks at you.
"but--"
"ran's engaged." you say. sevika's jaw drops. "to my cousin." you add on. her hand comes up to cover her mouth. "that's why i was 'all over them' on monday. they'd gotten engaged over the weekend." you say.
suddenly, you register the rest of what she'd said. a hesitant smile starts forming on your lips.
"shit." sevika grunts behind her hand.
"wait... what kind of feelings do you have for me, exactly?" you ask.
"no that's not how this works! i answered your question so you gotta answer mine." she says, a blush forming on her cheeks. for the first time in a week and a half, you feel like you can breathe clearly.
"okay." you say, your smile growing.
"so?" she asks. you blink up at her. "what did you think i figured out?"
"the huge fuckin' crush i have on you." you whisper. a white hot flash of anxiety shoots through your body for a split second but before you can freak out, a big smile is breaking across sevika's face. it's the biggest you've ever seen her smile.
oh. you think.
"oh." sevika says. "are... are you sure?" she asks. you snort. "i mean... i'm not good at romance. and you're so... pretty and friendly and everyone likes you, and i'm..."
"you're gorgeous and smart and funny even if you think you aren't, and you've been the only person i think about since the day i met you, and i've wanted to kiss you for fuckin-mmph!" you're cut off by sevika's lips pressing against yours.
you melt against her, winding your arms around her neck and pulling her closer as she snakes her arms around your waist. she sighs into your mouth and you shudder.
behind you, ran walks out of the bar and catches sight of you kissing the woman you've been lusting after for months. they cheer.
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@lesbeaniegreenie @fyeahnix
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☆ | — TREASURE
c/w: none, just fluff & cute.
w/c: 2.6k
a/n: still getting use to writing fics, pls.
Nights like these you hated. You hated them with a passion. Not because of how they went, it's because of how you went. You hated these feelings. You hated waking up at such stupid times in the night, all because of your emotions, your feelings, and these stupid cramps. Some nights you didn't even sleep, worried the pain would become too unbearable. Looking over your shoulder slowly, you hold back a soft sigh when spotting your wife. Sevika. wrapped up under the blankets, hair covering her face, fast asleep. Her quiet yet beautiful light snores filled your ears and you tried so hard to hold back the other sigh that was scratching at your throat, begging to come out.
It failed.
The next thing you knew, a dip in the mattress was felt behind you. And the sudden urge to cry your heart out came quickly when her fingers brushed your hair to the side of your neck. "Baby, what's the matter?" her voice raspy, gruff from sleep.
"My stomach hurts" you mutter, eyes welling up with tears when Sevika rests her chin on your shoulder comfortably. "And I can't sleep.."
"Do you have cramps?"
Nodding slowly, you could have easily wept when the beautiful woman behind you already shifted around in the bed, almost stumbling from it to kneel in front of you. She wasn't one to talk about her emotions, her feelings but she trusted you. She cared about you, and she loved you. Even if she didn't say it as often as she should. Your arms were quick to wrap around her neck and your legs around her waist, while hers wrapped around you carefully, picking you up. The coldness of her metal arm brushed across your soft skin.
When you first got hired by Silco, Sevika hated you. She refused to even talk to you. She would do her job, smoke and play cards. She never had time to put up with your bratty attitude or even your stupid jokes, and questions. She just didn't. When you first started your job in the Last Drop, she still hated you but you were tolerable. She found enjoyment in annoying the shit out of you, and you couldn't do anything. It was Sevika for god sake! she could kill you without hesitation. Yet you just loved annoying the fuck out of her. When she lost her arm, she refused to let anyone take care of her. Of course, you being you, got drunk and stumbled to her bedroom and pretty much shouted at her, cried at her, yelled, screamed and everything you could think of because you cared and wanted her to be safe.
You saw a side of her no one else saw, but she also saw a side of you. The side that she wanted to protect.
"I'll be back okay? Just wait until the water is done then you can relax. I just need to get something" Sevika mutters, pressing a soft kiss on the back of your neck. The scent of cigarettes and Whiskey clashed together in her mouth and you felt so lost in her smell. "I'll be back in a minute my love"
"Okay," You mumble, trying your best to hold back the shy smile on your face when she places a final kiss on your temple, stroking the side of your face with her metal fingers slowly. "Will you bring me the blanket that's still on the couch?"
"Of course baby"
Getting to know the scary woman of Zaun was yes, nerve-wracking. Mainly because you didn't want to piss her off. You didn't want to say the wrong thing and have her trying to kill you next. Of course she found your stuttering and fumbling amusing. Would sit there, a small smirk on her lips while her eyes bored into the cards. She found you amusingly adorable.
You were still shy and embarrassed over the night you shouted at her, that you were in love with her. That memory will never leave you, and she refuses to let it. She will bring it up any time she can, just to see you blushing. The sudden closing of the bathroom door caused you to look up and find Sevika looking at you, a soft smile on her lips, a glass of water, and a snack in her hand. "You've not drank or eaten anything since last night. I know it's disgusting to eat food in the bathroom of all places, but it's small and you need to eat before taking the tablets" She mutters, lips quirked up in a light smile.
"Thank you Vika.." your voice was scratchy but that's okay, she understood you weren't feeling yourself. rubbing harshly at your eyes, a pout forms on your lips when Sevika pulls your hand away just as fast, no words followed. "I didn't mean to wake you up, i know you got home late.."
"Don't apologise, Sweetheart. You being okay is important" the Brute smiles lightly, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. "Drink this, and i will check the water"
It didn't take you long to eat the small snack that she had given you, and taken the medication to help with your cramps while your eyes bored into the Brute, still kneeling down trying to get the water just the way you like it, the way she knows you like it. That hard stoned, aggressive, closed off woman knew things you liked. And that made you happy. Happy knowing she knew you more than anyone else. "Babe!"
Blinking, you look up the find Sevika looking at you with an unreadable expression across her faceand you could barely stop that fuckin blush appearing on your cheeks when her fingers grip your chin gently, "Sorry.. what were you saying?"
"I asked if you were ready. Water is warm, and ready for you"
"Oh.. uh yeah im ready, sorry i zoned out"
Sometimes Sevika didn't need to say anything. Just her being around you made you comfortable, safe and protected. She would do anything for you. She would kill someone if they even looked at you the wrong way. She would ruin their day if she caught someone hurting you or being rude. "You've been zoning out a lot more. What else is bothering you?" She was quiet but that was just Sevika sometimes, ghostly running her fingers up and down your back slowly.
"Am i good enough?" You confess softly, slightly praying she didn't hear you. You didn't want her to get angry, nor did you want her to be hurt and make her think you were over it. Sadly, Sevika had hawk hearing and never really missed anything you ever said. So when she rests her chin on your shoulder, you almost choke out another sob.
"You've always been more than enough. I really hate when you tell me you're lucky to have me. Im the one who is lucky to have you. You're actually the first person to call me a bitch in front of most of Zaun. So i will give you that. But you're you, you're amazing. Even if i don't talk about my feelings, you listen. You're there whenever i don't feel okay. You take care of me, even if i refuse to let you sometimes. Because i really hate when people ruin their life for me" Sevika scoffs with a dry laugh. "With you, it's not so bad though"
"I am lucky to have you though.. you could have picked anyone in Zaun and yet here we are.."
"I picked you, because i love you" Sevika growls, pressing her face more into your neck, resting comfortably. "I could have picked any of them yes, but i fell in love with you. My wife. I would choose you over any of them, every single time i would chose you. Now relax, we can cuddle after okay?"
"Okay Vika"
Even if Sevika acted like you were annoying. To her, you weren't. She did small things for you that slowly melted your heart whenever you saw it. Some mornings she would trace your back with her fingers, because she knew you liked closeness. Sometimes she would wrap you up in her arms when you woke up from having yet another nightmare, because she knew you loved her hugs and you loved her warmth. Sevika loved you, and she would do anything to help you. You were brought out of your trance, your thoughts when feeling her long fingers brushing through your hair, "You don't have to wash my hair.."
"Yes i do. You're not feeling okay and i like helping you"
Sevika didn't trust anyone, but she trusted you. She knew she could go to you if she wasn't okay. She was aware you were there, even just to listen or hold her. She loved you because you cared, but she adored you because you loved her. You loved her for who she is. "When did you realise you didn't find me annoying anymore?"
"I think you're getting confused, i still find you annoying but a good annoying" Sevika chuckles pressing her lips into the spot where your shoulder and neck meet. Her being this close, always comforted you. She was never the one to be gushy, but with you she would. Sevika also hated affection and comfort but if it's with you, she loved it. would never outright tell you that, but the small smirk and smile she gave you, told you your answer.
"That's mean.. i've never been annoying" You lie easily which causes the Brute to hum deeply into your skin. "Not once.."
"You were" Sevika growls, threading her fingers lightly through your now wet hair as you blush deeply at the sound. "But you were tolerable"
For the rest of the time you spent in the bath. Sevika spent most of that time washing your hair and making sure you were okay every 5 or 10 minutes. Your cramps became unbearable sometimes, and she didn't like to see you hurting. The last thing she wanted was, for you to be in any sort of pain. She hated when you were in pain. She might not show it sometimes, but deep down she worried sickly about you.
The feeling of her fingers running through your hair was always something that made you more tired. You didn't like when her metal arm was near water, knowing anything could happen and if it happens then it will break so you always made sure she didn't use that one. It was something that she spent a long time working on and you weren't selfish. The feel over her metal fingers running down your back caused you to flinch suddenly. "Sweetness? did i hurt you?"
"No, i was falling asleep and your fingers are cold.." You chuckle tiredly as you lean more into her body. She always smelt good, and you struggled to let her go in the mornings when she had to leave to work with Silco. "I missed you.."
"I've been here Sugar" She chuckles deeply against your ear. The sound to you, was always beautiful and sometimes you hated that Sevika didn't like compliments most of the time, you could say she was cute and the woman would look at you blankly, sometimes a scowl.
"I know.. i just.. i don't know"
Yours eyes widen but you're blush deeply when with her metal hand grips your chin tightly. A scowl on her face, Sevika dug the metal into your skin softly. "I always miss you" She admits softly, her metal thumb swiping across your bottom lip. "Hurry up, you're going to get cold, then you're going to get sick, and we can't have that, Sweetheart"
Sevika hated cuddling. Frankly she hated anything to do with that, but since falling in love with you. It's something she looked forward to. She looked forward to you being wrapped up in her arm, slumped against her side on her chest while she protected you and kept you safe. "Vika?" You mutter rubbing at your eyes gently while she places a kiss on your temple.
"Yeah sweetness?"
The Brute looked at you unamused when you held your hands up. You knew she was already fighting a battle in her head on whether or not to pick you up. She knew you were in pain, and taking away your pain the best way she could, was the only thing she wanted to do. So when she wrapped her much larger arm, and metal one around your waist you couldn't help but blush, wrapping your legs around hers tightly, and your arms around her neck carefully. Resting your head on her shoulder, you absentmindedly fumble with the small strands of her hair on the back of her neck.
There was something about your wife being so incredibly warm that you couldn't get over. Her body was like a fucking furnace and half the time, you refused to let her body go. Of course Sevika sometimes had to literally get one of your friends to pull you off her, just so she could go to work. That made you emotional, but she always made it up to you when she got home.
Her human hand, and her metal hand gripped your hips as you slumped your legs either side of her body. "Vika?" You mutter picking up the very cold hand carefully. Already feeling her body tense beneath you, a soft smile appears across your lips when you brush them over the palm slowly. "You're beautiful Sev.."
The smile that Sevika had on her face dropped and your heart race picked up, praying and hoping she wasn't mad at the compliment. "Really.. you're so beautiful and it breaks my heart that you don't like me telling you that.." You admit quietly into the cold metal. "You're perfect the way you are.."
"Im getting used to it" She mumbles in a growl as her eyes watch your movement slowly. Almost weeping at the way you lean into her touch when she cups your cheek. She always loved to see you smile, even if she acted like it was so damn annoying. She loved that she was the reason you smiled. "I'm going to be home later tomorrow"
"Can we cuddle again after..?"
The hesitation was back in her head, already fighting with herself once more and it was really hard for her to say fucking no, especially with the way you were looking down at her. Those doe, pretty eyes were so hard to say no to. Wrapping both her arms around your waist gently, Sevika breaths deeply into your neck. "If you want to Sugar" She hums, pressing a kiss onto your skin.
Sevika was quick to look at you the minute you cup her face with one of your smaller, softer hands abruptly and her grey eyes bored into your ones. Your pretty eyes as she calls them. She had to many names for you, you loved them all because you were obsessed with her. "I know i can be an asshole and im sorry.."
"You are not" Sevika growls almost knocking the breath from your body as her arms tighten around you. "You're never an asshole. What have i told you?"
"Not to apologise.." You murmur against her neck which earns you a small, quiet hum from her in response.
In the arms of the woman you loved, it didn't really take you that long to fall asleep again. Sevika barely slept and yes it always broke your heart because she deserved to sleep. The main reason, was to make sure you were safe, and nothing could happen to you. Flinching suddenly, the Brute looks down at you when a sudden grunt falls from your lips, and her body goes rigid again when she feels you absentmindedly pulling her metal arm, more around your body. She always tried her best to hide it, so it wouldn't hurt you but watching you wanting it closer almost made her sink into the fucking bed.
Carefully, Sevika pushes her metal fingers into your hair, slowly yet carefully scratching at your scalp. The way she knew you liked. You loved everything she did, but she was always worried you would get hurt. "Vika.."
"Yes Sweetheart?" She hums into your hair.
"I love you.."
"I love you"
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Drunk Silco, Viktor Headcanons
Request: “hcs for how silco & viktor act drunk?👀”
While sober Silco is still passionate about everything he cares about, whether it be his work to gain control and independence for Zaun or his beloved partner, he’s still quite stiff and cold about it
Not that he doesn’t want to be openly passionate, he just shows it in a different way than most people
From an outsider’s perspective he may even seem dismissive of his partner, though in actuality he’s the farthest from it
He just shows his care and affection in his own way that might only make sense to him and his partner
However
When he’s drunk, any sense of restraint or decorum just escapes him
He becomes so openly affectionate towards his partner than it’s almost sickeningly sweet
Drunk Silco gives Gomez Addams vibes
Passionate, Affectionate, traditionally romantic
openly simping for his partner
will spontaneously pull you into him and kiss up your arm while telling you how you take his breath away before wanting you to dance with him
surprisingly good at dancing too despite being completely wasted
Silco can never focus on work after he’s been drinking, because he just doesn’t want to
He wants to have you in his arms, his fingers in your hair, and your arms around his torso
You’re already on his mind 24/7 but when he’s drunk he can’t resist the urge to focus solely on you anymore
Silco knows how sentimental he gets when he drinks a lot so he doesn’t have more than a drink or two unless you two are completely alone
It’s not that he’s ashamed of his feelings for you, he just prefers to keep that side of him reserved for you and you alone
He’s so rigid when sober, pls just let him cling to you while he’s drunk bc you’re all he can think about
Viktor actually finds drinking to be pretty enjoyable
he doesn’t overdo it or anything, just enough to lessen his chronic pain
he wants to be responsible with it of course, and he also finds that drinking too much stops him from being able to competently work
he doesn’t get fully drunk very often, usually just a bit tipsy
but when he does get drunk, he becomes an absolute puppy of a man
Viktor is affectionate in general, not having any reserves when it comes to wrapping an arm around your waist or giving you a soft forehead kiss
so when he’s actually drunk he’s all over you
he not only wants to endlessly express how much he adores you, he wants your constant reassurance and praise of how much you love him too
almost always ends up lying with his head in your lap, looking up at you with these lovesick puppy eyes that are only ever given to you
please play with his hair or caress his cheek while he does, it’ll make him openly giddy
on a different note though, Viktor has a tendency to get a bit chaotic as well
he’ll have all of these ‘scientific breakthroughs’ and ‘brilliant discoveries’ that are actually him just explaining already understood scientific concepts
he’s frantically scribbling something on a chalkboard while babbling
“so what if instead of being an invisible force, it’s actually a bending of space, that’s why bigger objects have a greater pull- this is incredible, this could change everything!”
“Baby, that’s just the Theory of Relativity. Einstein already proposed that.”
“… what?”
“You’re very smart for coming to that conclusion on your own though!”
just support him, he’ll figure things out i swear
he really is a genius, just
not so much when he’s drunk
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The Wrong Place at the Wrong Time: Pt. 7
Silco x f!reader - 8k words - SFW
cw: fluff, soft silco, jealous/possessive silco, kissing, tiny bit of angst, suggestive themes, innuendos, self doubt, the author is an idiot
a/n: how has it been eight months? What the heck have i been doing for eight months??? i genuinely thought it’d been like four months since i last updated this fic, i am so sorry. To make up for it, please take a very indulgent, fluffy chapter featuring a whole lotta kissing with our favourite rat man ♡
PART 1 | PART 2 | PART 3 | PART 4 | PART 5 | PART 6 | PART 8
It’s just shy of a week later when you find yourself in Silco’s office, sitting beside the man himself, resisting the urge to play a cheeky game of footsie with him as your legs share the space beneath his desk.
Neither one of you have labelled whatever this new development in your relationship is, but given that you spend a considerable amount of time kissing each other until you’re both breathless, you’re not in any particular rush to hurry things along.
You’re just happy that you can finally taste those luscious lips on a daily basis.
Having just finished a tear-jerkingly boring meeting with a client who had droned on and on in the most monotone voice you’ve ever had the displeasure of hearing, you’re more than happy to escort him out of the office.
Silco saunters after you, following your tense form as you all but shove the client out the door, ensuring you keep your tried-and-tested ‘customer service smile’ plastered across your face.
Whilst you might want to wring the client’s neck for torturing you with boredom, it would probably be bad for business if you actually did… Then again, you’re pretty sure Silco wouldn’t mind. In fact, if he was as bored as he seemed for the whole meeting, you think he might even endorse it.
What’s the point of being king anyway if you’re not going to make it illegal to bore you to death?
The door is finally shut with a resounding click and you’re given approximately three seconds to turn back to face the stained glass window, before you’re being pushed up against the door, Silco’s lips moulding to yours instantly.
You’re startled for a very brief moment, but you soon find yourself sighing into the kiss, instinctively winding your arms up and around his neck until you can gently tug at the ends of his slicked-back hair with each movement of his lips.
At this point, you think you might be addicted to the way Silco kisses you like he’s trying to devour you. Every single time. Without fail.
His fingertips deftly move from your hair down to your waist, roaming your body as if he can’t decide his favourite way to hold you.
Far too soon (although, some might argue not soon enough by the way you’re starting to feel dizzy from rapidly running out of breath), Silco reluctantly pulls himself from your lips, resting his forehead against yours.
His good eye flutters shut whilst the corrupted one is trained on where his arm is snaked around your waist, holding your body firmly against his. It’s like he’s utterly drunk on you, breathless from your scent.
“I wish we could do this forever,” you whisper happily, using your thumbs to lightly trace circles on the delicate skin behind his ear.
Silco smiles for a brief moment before he dips his head down to give you another quick peck on the lips. He stays close to your lips, almost as if they’re magnetised.
“As do I, my darling,” he murmurs, his other hand coming up to rest on your hip bone. “Unfortunately I must attend to an incident at one of the docks. Would you mind taking care of this afternoon’s meeting for me?”
Immediately, you tense up at the mention of going to a meeting alone, a flood of anxiety rushing through your body.
“Um, actually, I can’t,” you say nervously, your eyes dropping down to your shoes.
Silco lifts his head and pulls back slightly. You can feel him looking down at you with a confused frown.
“You can’t?” he repeats.
“Nope. Sorry, I’m super busy,” you emphasise, looking absolutely anywhere but his face.
You know that if you even glance at those beautiful eyes for just one sliver of a second, you’ll crumble.
“Busy with what?” he probes, undoubtedly giving you The Look, as his voice drops to a concerned rumble.
You employ the classic hide-and-seek technique and refuse to meet his gaze. You can’t see me if I can’t see you.
“I’ve got to see a man about a dog!” you blurt out in response, your panicked mind spitting out a ridiculous phrase instead of an actual reason.
“I beg your pardon?” Silco asks incredulously.
“Yep. And now that I think about it, I’m starting to feel a bit sick, so actually I might have to go lie down for a bit. You know, before I go see the man about the dog,” you ramble, your brain switching off in the face of panic.
Then, you subtly attempt to wiggle out of his hold, planning to flee into the streets of Zaun in the hopes that you’ll somehow end up at a pet shop, (the idea of getting a dog incredibly appealing at this particular moment in time), but find it a difficult task given how Silco is currently pressing you into the door, hips pressed solidly against yours.
He gently grasps your chin between his fingers and pulls you into meeting his gaze. His eyes search your face intently. Then, only a few moments later, he appears to have found something because suddenly he is taking your hand in his and wordlessly leading you over to the couch.
You allow yourself to be herded over to the plush seat and resign yourself to your fate when he sits you down and moulds you into his side.
A large hand soothingly runs up and down your waist. You melt into him, pulling your legs up so your knees rest on his thighs.
“Why are you trying to avoid this meeting?” he asks, his voice low and soft.
Of course, your first instinct is to lie. But you’d promised to tell him the truth about your worries all that time ago on the pier and you weren’t in the business of going back on your word.
You sigh heavily and begin to fiddle with one of the buttons on his waistcoat.
“I’ve just… I’ve been really nervous about going to meetings again,” you admit, fidgeting to hide your embarrassment. “I mean, this is twice now a client has tried to kill me and, I don’t know… I’m just worried one day they’ll succeed.”
Part of you feels ridiculous.
He’s a crime lord, for Janna’s sake. He runs a cut-throat, criminal enterprise - what were you expecting; sunshine and roses?
Silco is clearly upset by your confession given the way he sighs and holds you tighter, his arms wrapping protectively around your frame.
“Oh sweetheart,” he mumbles into your hair. “I should have prepared you better.”
It sends a pang ringing through your chest. You didn’t mean to make him feel bad.
“It’s fine, Sil. Honestly,” you insist, wrapping your own arms around his waist.
Silco pulls back from the hug and looks down at you, his brow furrowed.
“It’s not fine, darling. You have every right to feel worried.”
One hand lets go of you to snake up your body until he’s holding your cheek, thumb tracing your cheekbone in a gentle caress.
“I promise I will keep you safe," he tells you, and you completely believe him. “And I will see to it that I personally train you in the basics of defence."
You throw your arms around him again, squeezing him tightly as you press your face into his chest, inhaling his scent.
“Okay,” you nod against his chest.
Honestly, some training sounds like a great idea. You’re not quite sure how you’ve gotten this far in living in Zaun without knowing at least some basic defence moves. Your tactic so far has just been to, you know… run.
Which had honestly worked a treat right up until the point you were hit on the back of the head with a shovel and tied to a chair…
But, then again look how that turned out. Working with and kissing the cutest crime lord in the whole of Zaun? What more could a girl ask for?
Well, now that you’re asking, maybe a-
Zaun’s-Cutest-Crime-Lord breaks your train of thought before it can run away from you entirely.
“I won’t force you to go to this afternoon’s meeting; Sevika can cover for you.”
“No, no, I can do it,” you say, sitting up to look at him once more.
He appears unsure, his eyes narrowing slightly as if it’ll help him suss out any lies.
“I’ll be alright,” you reassure him. “I just need to channel my inner you and stare at them menacingly until they spontaneously combust.”
You even give him a demonstration to further ease his concern.
Silco rolls his eyes dramatically, but his fingers betray his true feelings because they begin to trace worried little patterns on your knee.
Your heart aches for how caring this man can be (if, and only if, you’re an ex-kitchen-utensil-salesperson or a sweet little girl with blue hair and a morbid fascination with weapons).
Completely unbidden, a cheeky little idea pops into your head and you find yourself purposefully putting on a serious face.
“But now that I’m thinking about it… I guess there is one more thing that you could do, you know, to help me feel better about the meeting,” you say in a small voice, goading him into turning to face you fully.
“Anything, my dove,” he answers solemnly, his brows furrowed in concentration.
You climb into his lap and weave your fingers through the dark strands of his hair.
“This.”
Your lips crash into his for the umpteenth time this morning.
And boy, does it make you feel better about your meeting.
-
Surprisingly, the meeting goes better than expected, with no obvious hitches and definitely no murder attempts (from either party). Maybe your newfound meeting success is due to you finally perfecting Silco’s trademark death stare after practising it in the mirror for a whole two minutes.
Or maybe it’s because you’d had your best buddy Sevika standing just over your shoulder the entire time. And whilst her style may be different from your lovable rat man’s, there’s no doubt that Sevika can be intimidating.
Perhaps you should be learning from her instead of Silco…
Is it all in the dangerous glare?
Or is it all in the cloak?
You make a mental note to ask her the next time you spot her in the bar.
Before you know it, the week has flown by, and you’re almost back into the groove of things. Sure, meetings still make your stomach feel like it’s on the world’s longest rollercoaster. But you’re definitely gaining a bit more confidence with each one.
Just before leaving for today’s meeting, you’d kissed Silco at his desk, biting down a smile when he leant forward slightly in his chair in an attempt to chase your lips when you pulled away.
It had almost felt… domestic. Like you’re an old, married couple (without the constant bickering, of course). But you’re none of those things. You’re definitely not married, not really an official couple, and even though Silco might be an old codger, you’re not going to be the one to tell him.
And you don’t want to potentially ruin things by asking him to put a label on your relationship if he isn’t comfortable with that.
Besides, you know right now you need to focus on your work, not the intricacies of your relationship status.
When discussing the newest client with Silco, you had learned that he was a businessman named Isaac and that he was looking to become another distributor of Shimmer. And your job was to find out exactly what he wanted out of this deal, so you could begin to draw up a contract that benefited both parties.
Isaac had requested a specific address for you to meet which Silco had recognised as a café along the Promenade, one he’d visited before with Jinx. And since neither your partner-in-crime or your best buddy could join you on this outing (both being called to deal with another ‘meeting’), you immediately felt better that you’d be in a public place rather than a shady warehouse or dock.
Even better, the Promenade’s closer to the bridge, which meant you were less likely to run into any questionable individuals or people who might wrongfully mistake your identity, knock you out, and tie you to a chair.
Of course, you’re beyond nervous about going to your first meeting alone since the knife incident. But you’ll have guards with you and plenty of witnesses in a busy café on the off-chance that anything does go wrong.
But when you finally arrive at the pre-arranged address, you’re surprised to find a large building that is clearly undergoing renovation, instead of a bustling café. The sign has been removed and the large windows are covered with big cloth sheets, likely protecting them from the fresh coat of paint on the walls surrounding them.
Before you can question whether your driver has gotten lost, you spot a finely dressed gentleman outside the building, looking down at his pocket watch, one hand leaning on an intricately designed cane.
He’s definitely older than Silco, given that his hair is more salt than pepper. And there’s a sharp look about him. Like he’s constantly evaluating and making mental calculations on how he can use any and every piece of information to benefit him.
With the carriage parked further down the street, you approach the man with your guards trailing behind you, studying him as much as you can to gather any clues about him. It never hurts to have a little profile on exactly who you’re going to be dealing with.
“Isaac?” you say, when you get close enough for him to hear.
The man turns to look at you, his eyes trailing up and down your frame like he’s drinking in every single detail. Truthfully, it’s a bit unnerving. Like he can see into your mind.
(You hope he can’t. It’s filled with Silco’s thighs, pizza wheels, and the constant question of who would win in a fight between a bear and a shark.)
“You’re the delegate sent by Silco?” he responds with one eyebrow raised, his voice smooth and low.
By now, you’re used to people being surprised that you work for Silco. You still don’t really give off that scary crime lord vibe that he seems to exude so effortlessly.
You look down at yourself and then back up at him, smiling just a touch too brightly.
“Yep! Last time I checked.”
Isaac gazes at you in amusement until you tell him your name and hold your hand out for him to shake.
Instead, he smirks and takes your hand, only to bend down to kiss your knuckles.
“Enchanted,” he says. The low, smooth tone coils around you, making you shudder slightly.
Honestly, it makes you feel a little bit gross considering you don’t know him, but you reason that he’s probably just doing it to raise his margin of profit. Besides, it’s better to play along and get on his good side, if only for the sake of the deal.
Plus, it sure as hell beats people trying to stab you in lieu of a proper greeting.
“Likewise,” you respond.
“I hope you don’t mind if my fan club quickly checks you for any weapons,” you tell him, gesturing to the three guards standing by you. “We’ve had some trouble in the past.”
“Of course,” Isaac responds, with a graceful nod of his head.
And while the guards search him, you suddenly realise that the building before you is definitely not open to the public. If you go inside with this man, you’ll have no witnesses like you were hoping. But you do have three massive bodyguards, which ought to be enough.
Right?
Once the guards give Isaac the all clear, you glance up at the building in front of you.
“I was under the impression we would be meeting at a cafe,” you say, trying to keep your tone even to hide your nerves. “My-”
You catch yourself, unsure of how you were going to complete that sentence.
Your what, exactly?
Boss? Boyfriend?
Man-you-annoy-on-a-daily-basis-until-he-kisses-you-just-to-get-you-to-shut-up?
(Only 2/3 of those are correct and you categorically refuse to acknowledge which one is untrue.)
“Silco told me he’s visited before,” you settle on.
“Ah, yes. I believe the previous owners used the space for that purpose,” Isaac replies, following your gaze.
That catches you by surprise.
“Oh, you own the building now?”
“And the one next door,” he says with a look that borders on smug. “I’m in the process of joining the two spaces to create a luxury lounge bar for exclusive clientele.”
Now, that is not what you were expecting. A luxury lounge bar sounds far too fancy for Zaun. An establishment much more suited to the residents of Piltover.
Your astonishment must be evident in your expression because Isaac chuckles, low and full of mischief.
“Would you care for a quick tour before we begin?” he asks, holding out his arm for you to take.
You glance up at his inviting expression and decide that you wouldn’t mind a quick tour, if only because you’re damn curious how a street café is going to be transformed into a high class lounge bar.
A polite smile crosses your face.
“Sounds lovely, lead the way.”
True to his word, Isaac had given you a brief tour of the newly joined building, showing you the main bar lounge as well as the myriad little side rooms that you can just picture housing rustic leather sofas and antique fireplaces.
Isaac had continued his flirty demeanour throughout, offering you an exclusive, black card membership when the bar’s ready to open, drinks on the house every time you visit - the lot.
Of course you’d humbly refused it all, but you kept playing along, allowing him to lead you from room to room with your guards silently following after you, sizing up each room and Isaac’s every action.
Now, sitting in the main lounge at a table that is half booth seating, half chairs, (no prizes for guessing where you’d chosen to sit), you begin to discuss the arrangements of a contract.
Isaac tells you that he’s looking to sell high grade Shimmer in his bar, all the while making slightly passive aggressive and insulting comments about night clubs, including, but not limited to, the very one you call home.
You’re just about to ask him about the number of clientele he’s expecting to handle each week when a commotion at the door causes you to look across the room, only to find yourself looking at a very familiar face, standing with his hands clasped behind his back.
You struggle not to grin at the sight of him, and though his own face remains passive, you can spot the slight changes in his body language that reveals how pleased he is to see you again.
Gods, is this boy obsessed with you or what? Mans follows you about like a lost puppy.
“I hope you’re treating my negotiator well,” Silco says, his voice a rumble that makes your stomach do flips no matter how many times you hear it. “She’s a very valuable…asset.”
A glare is shot his way for having the nerve to call you an asset, but Silco ignores it. No matter, you’ll get him back for it later.
Luckily, Isaac appears to be unperturbed by the intrusion.
“I can assure you, she’s been treated like royalty,” he says, a little hint of… something in his voice. You can’t quite tell.
Silco joins you at the table, sliding in beside you on the plush booth seat, making sure your thigh rests flush alongside his.
Assuming he finished his meeting much more quickly than expected and wanted to make sure your own meeting was going well, you continue discussing the contract with Isaac as you had been before.
And Isaac continues to make casual flirty comments, which you laugh along with to maintain the banter and rapport you’d already build up over the course of the meeting. You don’t mean anything by it, but sometimes a bit of flattery is beneficial in this business.
So you laugh at Isaac’s jokes and you smile at every over-the-top compliment.
In fact, you barely even notice the man beside you (who has been uncharacteristically quiet since crashing the meeting), until you make the mistake of leaning across the table to casually touch Isaac’s arm.
All of a sudden, Silco’s hand grips your thigh under the table, not too tight for it to hurt, but tight enough for you to snap your head to look at him in shock.
But he doesn’t even glance at you, his piercing eyes glued onto Isaac.
You immediately worry you’ve done something wrong and you’re about to ask his input on the deal when Silco speaks, his voice far more steady than you were expecting given his intense demeanour.
“I apologise for the interruption, but I require a moment alone with my negotiator.”
Isaac appears just as surprised as you are, but he recovers quickly and clears his throat.
“Of course. You’re more than welcome to talk in the room next door, if you wish.”
He gestures to a door that you remember leads to a little side room.
Silco nods and quickly slides out of the seat to stand. You follow him, sending a quick, apologetic smile to Isaac in an attempt to hide your concern.
Once you’re standing, Silco turns to acknowledge the man still seated at the table.
“Do excuse us,” he says courteously.
Isaac nods and with that, you’re being gently herded to the door, your anxiety increasing with each step.
Did you say something wrong?
You enter the sparse room, going to stand by one of the tables that is covered in a dust sheet.
Silco shuts the door behind you (waving off the guards who try to follow) and you worry that he’s upset with the way the deal is going, even though from your perspective, it had been going quite well until Silco had interrupted.
You turn to face him with a worried frown.
“Are you not happy with the terms?” you ask him gravely. “I know we didn’t really-”
Silco crosses the room in a few, long strides and grabs you by the waist, picking you up so he can seat you atop the nearest table.
You gasp in surprise and Silco’s lips collide with yours.
He kisses you with a searing amount of passion, standing between your legs until there’s barely any space between your bodies. His hands switch from running through your hair to grasping at your waist and when his teeth nip at your bottom lip, you cry out, allowing him to slip his tongue into your mouth.
You match his movements eagerly, if not a little bit bewilderedly.
When he finally pulls back for breath, the both of you stare at one another, panting.
“What was that for?” you say breathlessly, your chest heaving against his.
“You’re mine,” he responds in a low rumble that shoots heat straight through you.
He begins to trail wet kisses across your neck and you struggle to think straight with your heart pounding.
What does he mean? Of course you’re his, why is he-
It suddenly dawns on you the reason for this sudden bout of possessiveness.
He’s jealous.
You place your hands on his chest, trying to stop him for a moment.
“Wait. Do you think I’m flirting with this guy?”
“You are flirting with him,” Silco all but growls, his hands landing on your lower back where he jerks you forward on the table until you’re flush with him.
“To get a good deal!” you protest. “I’m just preten-”
A sloppy kiss on your neck makes you jump when his teeth sink into your skin, surely leaving an obvious bruise.
“Silco!” you cry out, trying to keep your volume as quiet as possible.
“Pretend or not,” he grumbles against your neck. “I don’t share.”
You breath catches and Silco leans away from you just enough to look you in the eyes, a delicious hint of lust betraying his intense expression.
“I want you to be mine and mine alone.”
Your eyes widen when your distracted brain finally catches his meaning.
“You- you want to be with me? In a relationship?” you ask in a daze.
Part of you feels silly for asking but you need to be sure.
“Yes.” he replies emphatically, returning to his previous ministrations of kissing along your collarbone. “If it were up to me, you’d never leave my side again.”
You think your heart might have just filled up and popped like a balloon.
He wants you to be his girlfriend.
Those pesky feelings are bubbling away inside you, almost to the point of being overwhelmed, so you resort to your tried and true method of coping.
Being a shitlord.
You gasp dramatically, tightening your grip on the strap at the back of his waistcoat, reaching up under his coat. Then, you let your voice drop to a hushed, conspiratorial whisper.
“Does this mean what I think it means?”
Silco slowly leans back and narrows his eyes at you in suspicion.
“Dare I even ask what you think it means?” he inquires sceptically.
“Are you asking me to… be more than just your kitchen utensil salesperson?”
The change in emotion is rapid and entirely theatrical. Silco rolls his eyes and sighs heavily, his whole body joining in the motion.
“I think I’ve changed my mind,” he comments flippantly.
Despite your grin, you grip onto him even tighter and wrap your legs around him like a koala.
“Nuh-uh, mister, no takesie backsies,” you say, smushing your face into his chest.
Silco’s head drops back to look at the ceiling, his hands falling to his sides in mock exasperation.
“Dear Janna, I fear I’ve made a grave mistake-” he begins.
“Oh?” you interrupt loudly. “Well, in that case, I think my new friend Isaac is more than up for a little bit of lip service.”
You let go of him and start to shuffle away from him so you can climb down from the table, but Silco immediately grabs onto you again and pulls you back against him, effectively trapping you in.
“Not on my watch,” he grunts in your ear, the delicious rumble going straight from his chest into yours.
Truth be told, you’re not entirely sure who initiates the next kiss, but before you know it, Silco has his hands in your hair again and is surely bruising your lips with how hard he kisses you.
Eventually, (reluctantly), you manage to convince him you need to finish the meeting, but with the promise that you can continue your endeavours the very minute you get home. Silco only agrees after you seal the deal with another quick kiss.
Finally straightening each other up until you’re more presentable, and with a lot of reassurance from Silco that no-one will be able to tell that you’ve basically spent the past five minutes snogging each other, you return back to the main lounge where Isaac is patiently waiting.
Isaac makes no mention of your extended ‘chat’ and you get right back into the meeting, this time with a much happier kingpin by your side.
It’s incredibly difficult not to show how giddy you are for the rest of the meeting. And it definitely doesn’t help that Silco decides to deliberately stroke up and down your thigh the whole time.
But you finish the meeting, promise Isaac you will send him a draft contract to review, and just about refrain from skipping out the door to the carriage where home and Silco’s gorgeous lips await you.
-
Once you’d finally arrived back home, your plans had been slightly waylaid by the fact that Jinx wanted to spend the rest of the evening with you both, which meant you’d had to postpone any plans made in Isaac’s bar.
Of course, you’d enjoyed the evening, as you always enjoyed spending time with Jinx and Silco. But you were also secretly pleased when Jinx had finally dropped to sleep in her bed after reading her no less than nine stories from her storybook.
The child had far too much energy.
On the way back to Silco’s office, you had quickly stopped by your bedroom, brushing your teeth and getting changed into your pyjamas so you could relax after such an exhausting day.
By the time you’d reached his office, Silco was already lounging on the sofa, his waistcoat and tie gone, looking just as tired as you felt.
But neither of you had wanted the evening to end just yet, so you’d climbed onto his lap and kissed him so gently, he couldn’t help but let out a content little sigh.
The two of you had quietly talked, with Silco’s long fingers softly carding through your hair until you’d found yourself falling asleep against him. Somewhere in the haze between sleep and awake, Silco had murmured that you should sleep in his bed, mumbling something about not wanting you to wake yourself up by walking back to your own bedroom.
You’d sleepily agreed, allowing him to gather you up in his arms and carry you to his bedroom (pointedly ignoring the fact that if he was going to carry you anyway, he could have just carried you down the hall to your own bedroom…)
But you much preferred the alternative.
Silco had laid you down on the soft sheets of his bed, disappearing for a few minutes to get himself washed and changed, and reappearing just as quickly to join you under the covers.
In the darkness of the room, Silco holding you in his arms like you were the most precious person in the whole world, you’d kissed slowly and deeply, like two lovers discovering each other for the first time.
Relying only on the feel of Silco’s lips and the quiet sighs brushing your cheek, you’d kissed him until you felt your body pulling you under, down into the murky depths of sleep.
He must have been able to tell that you were fighting it, because soon enough, he’d rested his forehead against yours, breaths intermingling in the tiny space between your lips, and whispered into the darkness of the room.
“Sleep, my lovely. I’ll still be here when you wake up.”
For the first time in your life, you fell asleep with a tiny smile on your face, wrapped in the arms of a man you adored with your whole heart.
It was the best sleep you’d ever had.
But now, as low streaks of light begin to pour through the windows, you feel your body awakening, a slight ache in your limbs from your extended rest.
You blink yourself properly awake and soon become aware of the position you’re in. Silco is pressed with his chest against your back, a strong forearm slung around your waist, holding your body close to his.
Your legs are tangled together and you can feel each warm exhale of his breath on the back of your neck, tickling the fine hairs on your nape.
Still asleep.
Carefully turning in his hold until you’re facing each other, you admire how beautiful Silco looks when he’s asleep, all the tension that usually lines his face completely melted away.
If only he could be this relaxed all the time. It suits him.
You lean forward and delicately kiss his cheek, causing him to sigh and hold you even tighter.
Gods, you could honestly stay here forever.
Eventually, the bathroom calls, and you manage to pry yourself from his arms without waking him, completing your morning ritual in the little ensuite and even finding a spare toothbrush in the cupboards to freshen your mouth.
When you return to his bedroom, your feet padding softly against the wooden floorboards, you find him flat out on his back, snoring lightly with his mouth hanging open.
You grin and resist the urge to fetch a camera, instead picking the slightly less evil option of snooping around his bedroom.
Predictably, the furniture is dark and woodsy. And everything is neat enough. But not too neat that it doesn’t look lived in.
But the one thing that immediately draws your eye is the little writing desk placed in front of a tiny, stained glass window that looks out on the streets of Zaun.
You approach the desk quietly, your eyes ticking over the myriad little trinkets that are dotted over the surface.
Of course, there’s some notebooks, and fountain pens, and bottles of ink. But there’s also a few little boxes filled with their own treasures.
One contains a pair of reading glasses that almost make you squeal on the spot. (You are definitely forcing him to wear these at some point.)
Another houses lots of little curios that you’re certain will all have a story attached to them if you were to ask. Some pretty shells, a broken little toy, a stamped coin you don’t recognise.
But when your eyes land on the smallest trinket box, you don’t even look inside because you’re completely distracted by the items that lay beside it.
A pizza wheel and a set of measuring spoons.
Your heart nearly bursts in happiness when you recognise them as the ones you’d sold to him from your stall all that time ago.
He hadn’t thrown them away like you’d thought when you couldn’t find them in the kitchen. He’d kept them in his bedroom. With the rest of the items he treasures.
Clutching your hands to your chest to stop yourself from breaking out into song, you look up, and as if you thought your heart couldn’t be anymore full, you spot the portrait of him that you’d painted in the Topside art studio resting against the sil of the window.
Your hands drop at the same time your expression does when your eyes jump from the kitchen utensils to the painting in repeated succession…
He has a shrine to you in his bedroom.
He has a shrine to you… in his bedroom!!!
Your hands slap over your mouth in giddy joy and you giggle as silently as you can, dropping down onto the little seat in front of the writing desk, not caring for one second that they’re still your mortal enemies.
You carefully pick up a notebook, checking that the pages are easy to rip out and won’t ruin the notebook if you do. Turning to a fresh page, you grab a pen and begin to write a silly little limerick about you and Silco, the words coming to you surprisingly easy as you write.
there once was a kitchen utensil seller,
who fell in love with a silly, old fella-
The moment you read back the words on the page you freeze in horror.
You’ve just written down that you’ve fallen in love with Silco… in one of his own notebooks.
Your heart begins to race as you descend into panic.
Fuck.
Fuck!
What are you going to do? He can’t see this!
This can’t be the way he finds out how you feel about him. What if he doesn’t feel like that yet? What if it’s too early?
Shit. Are you in love with him? You’ve only just officially started dating. Literally, yesterday.
Your mind becomes a whirl of spiralling thoughts and in your panic, you look down at the notebook and start to make a plan that, almost concerningly, resembles a murder cover-up.
First and foremost, you need to get rid of the evidence. Then you need to get an alibi. Then-
Before you can even think about running to your bedroom to hide the notebook - Sod’s law - you nearly jump out of your seat when a gravelly, morning voice speaks from behind you.
“Whilst I treasure waking up to this view, sweetheart, I must admit,” Silco’s voice somehow drops even lower, almost tantalisingly so. “I’d much prefer for you to come back to bed.”
You freeze for a second, resisting the urge to snap the notebook shut in fear of looking too suspicious, and take a moment to clear your face before turning to look at him over your shoulder.
The smile that pulls your lips is automatic as you observe him lying in bed, propped up on one elbow as he gazes at you hungrily, his dark hair all tousled and his lips dry.
Gods, he’s honestly never looked better.
You bite your lip and Silco smirks, a devilish little thing, as he crooks one finger to summon you back to bed.
But you can’t go back to bed, you have to cover up your crime before he can notice what you’ve done.
So you decide to grill him on his obsession with you.
“But if I come back to bed, how am I supposed to admire your shrine to me?” you ask in a way that you hope sounds innocent (but in all honesty doesn’t at all), vaguely gesturing to the kitchen utensils and painting behind you.
Silco heaves a dramatic, heavy sigh like you’re the most exhausting person ever.
“Of course you think it’s a shrine,” he grumbles under his breath.
He throws back the covers and starts to get out of bed, and now you do slam the notebook shut as your eyes widen. Luckily, Silco takes no notice and saunters into the bathroom, leaving the door open as he disappears through it.
You jump at the opportunity to grab the notebook and shove it behind his dresser, along with the pen you used and all his pencils, because in your paranoia, you assume he knows how to dust for fingerprints and will no doubt use the pencil trick if you just rip the page from the notebook.
By the time he returns, you’re sitting back down at the desk, mindlessly spinning the blade of the pizza wheel, trying to look like a picture of perfect innocence and not like you’d just stolen half of the stationery from his writing desk.
Silco glances over at you in surprise when he finds you in the same place he left you (and pointedly, not back in bed) and strides over to you with purpose.
You look up at him with wide eyes until he reaches your side. He carefully plucks the pizza wheel from your hands so you won’t hurt yourself on the blade, and suddenly picks you up, throwing you over his shoulder with ease.
You squeal in surprise and start to wiggle on his shoulder as he carries you across the room and over to the bed.
“Help! I’m being kidnapped by the Eye of Zaun!” you jokingly cry out.
Silco gently chucks you onto the bed and you wriggle away from him until your head hits the pillows, unable to hold back a smile the entire time.
He crawls onto the bed after you and cages you in with his arms, leaning down to whisper in your ear once he hovers atop you.
“Now be a good girl and behave.”
His lips descend on yours and you easily melt into the kiss, wrapping your arms up and around his shoulders, pulling him even closer to you.
When both of your lungs are burning from the lack of air, Silco regretfully pulls back and rests his head in the crook of your neck. Your hands run up and down his spine for a few blissful moments until you finally break the peace.
“Sil, we need to get up for work.”
“No we don’t,” he instantly mumbles back, lips resting against your neck with every word.
You smile up at the ceiling before gently pulling on the back of his loose shirt.
“We do.”
Silco ignores you completely, lifting his head to place a series of kisses along your neck. You drop your shoulders and relax into it completely, up until the moment that you feel him start to suck a bruise into your skin.
“Oi!” you say, weaving your hands into his hair to pull him away from you. “Stop it, you’re going to get me in trouble with my boss.”
At this, Silco leans back up until he’s hovering over your lips, his eyes full of mischief.
“Oh, darling, I’m afraid you’re already in deep trouble with him.”
You can’t help grinning at him as he dips down to kiss you again, making you even more late for work.
-
It’s early evening when Silco lets out a deep, heady groan, the sound reverberating around the tall, empty space above his office.
“Yes, right there, darling,” he says, his timbre making it sound like he’s experiencing nirvana.
So, you concentrate on that place and bite back a grin when he stifles another, whinier moan.
Currently, Silco is lying flat out on the floor, his face smushed into the rug as you try to get the knots out of his old, decrepit body with a back massage.
Honestly, how many times have you warned him that hunching over his desk all day and night will give him terrible back pain? You think you’ve lost count at this point.
Still, you’re kind enough to help out your little himbo even when he doesn’t follow your advice.
“Why can’t you get a chiropractor to do this?” you ask, straddling his back as you try your best to ease some of his pain, rubbing your hands into the space just below his shoulders.
“Because you are far less expensive,” he mumbles gruffly into the rug.
You smack his clothed arm and glare down at the back of his head.
“Wrong answer.”
“Because you’re the only person I want touching me, darling,” Silco tries again, this time in a much sweeter voice.
He’s probably realising that it might not be such a good idea to offend the person currently trying to help him.
“That’s what I thought you said,” you say, digging into his back a little bit harder.
You continue to massage his back, following his directions of which areas to focus on, all the time wondering why the richest man in Zaun doesn’t just hire an actual professional, instead of getting you to give him a massage.
Is it just because he’s a stubborn old man? Or does he actually not trust anybody else to touch him like this?
Now that you know more of Silco’s past, you wouldn’t be surprised if he has difficulties with touch. But apart from that first time you’d tried to hold his hand in the warehouse, he’s never seemed reluctant to touch you.
Maybe he-
In the middle of your internal debate, two things happen at once.
First, you clearly hit a sweet spot in your massage because Silco groans in pure relief. Loudly.
And second, Sevika walks in through the office door completely unannounced.
There’s a millisecond of a pause before she scoffs.
“Fucking hell. Can’t you two do that somewhere else?”
Your head pops up over the desk in surprise, only to find her grimacing, looking up at the ceiling in disgust.
Your eyebrows burrow in confusion, wondering why Silco’s office would be an inappropriate place for a back massage when you suddenly realise what she thinks is happening.
“Wait, no! We weren’t doing that!” you call across the room in horror. “I was just giving him a massage!”
“Gross, I don’t wanna hear the details, just lock the door next time,” she groans, sounding like she wishes she was anywhere else but here.
Immediately your eyes widen as you realise your accidental double entendre.
“Wait, I didn’t mean-”
But she’s gone before you can finish your sentence, the door slamming behind her.
You sit for a moment in shell shock before glancing back down at Silco, who has turned his head sideways to look at you, his face resting on the backs of his hands.
“You don’t think she’s gonna tell people that we were… you know…” you trail off, making a vague, indecipherable gesture with one hand.
“Sevika’s not one to gossip,” Silco reassures you.
You inhale and exhale, pushing yourself up so you can go and lock the door, not wanting any more interruptions.
By the time you’ve made your way back to the desk, Silco is already sitting in his chair, facing towards you in a clear invitation to sit in his lap.
You don’t.
Instead, you plonk yourself down on the edge of the desk, facing towards the window, and bite your lip, painfully aware of Silco staring at you from the corner of your eye.
He waits a few more moments before rolling his chair closer to you and taking your hands in his.
“If you’re truly worried about it, I can speak to Sevika for you,” he says gently, trying to catch your gaze.
“No, it’s not that, it’s just…” you finally meet his eyes, worry painting your expression. “I have a feeling you don’t want to tell anyone.”
He sighs quietly and of course, you hate making him upset, but it’s something that needs to be addressed.
“For your safety, my dove,” he says pleadingly.
“I know,” you agree fervently. “I understand, Silco.”
It makes complete sense that he doesn’t want anyone to know. Anyone known to be close to the Eye of Zaun is much more likely to become a target than someone who just works for him.
But it still hurts.
You want to tell everyone. The whole world!
You want to tell your old boss at the stall down in the market.
You want to tell the old lady you used to live next door to.
Hell, you even want to tell the man who served you at the coffee shop everyday for three years, and every single day called you by the wrong name, until the day he visited your stall and saw your name badge, forcing you to find a new place to get your drinks from…
Then again, maybe not him.
“I just wish I could show you off. Have my own little stall in the market,” you tell Silco, nervously playing with his hands. “Maybe you could have a kissing booth… except I’m the only one who gets to kiss you,” you add with a frown, eyes snapping up to make sure he knows how serious you are.
Silco chuckles and his lips pull into a mischievous smirk.
“Do you think I’d get many customers?”
You stare at him hard.
He would.
“I’ve changed my mind,” you say, pulling on his hands so he rolls forward in his chair, closer and closer to you. “I’m going to keep you locked up in this office forever. These lips are mine.”
Your fingers raise to slowly trace his lips, forcing Silco’s own hands up since they’re still entwined with yours. You watch in fascination as his eyes darken until he suddenly pulls you downwards, landing heavily in his lap.
He lets go of your hands and manoeuvres your body until you’re straddling him, his lips resting on the shell of your ear.
“The rest is yours, too.”
You gasp as a shudder rolls down your spine, allowing him to grab your waist as your own fingers slide into his hair, bringing your lips together in a heated kiss.
You’re just starting to feel flushed at the promiscuous position and the heat flooding through your body when a loud bang echoes from behind you.
You scream and nearly headbutt Silco, who is forced to grip onto you tightly to stop you from toppling off the chair.
Whipping your head around, you’re met with the sight of Jinx, standing right in the middle of Silco’s desk like she’s just dropped down from the ceiling.
Since when did she start doing that?!
“I knew it!” she yells excitedly, her face lit up as she points at the two of you. “I knew you were secretly doing the kissing thing!”
Both you and Silco groan in tandem, and you can’t help but slump forward to rest your head on his shoulder, exhausted from Jinx’s grand entrance.
Well, so much for keeping it a secret.
PART 8
a/n: y’all better believe the next chapter will include silco-training-reader-how-to-defend-herself shenanigans 😈
-
Taglist: @htmlbitxh @pinkrose1422 @jennithejester @wondermia69 @redskull199987 @paradoxdraggon @ariaud @ruthdied
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Fugging fugg it.
Silco x Genderfluid!Sex Worker Reader WIP
———-
Tell me, is there a specific impetus that determines whether you present as a boy or a girl?'
You glance up from the bowtie you're making with the drawstrings to your pants. His slender fingers, the fingers that were wrapped around your cock only minutes before, splay like a divided fan to frame his face. Two fingers the vertical span of his cheek, the others curled beneath his lower lip. Thoughtful as he studies you.
It is impossible to beat the feeling back--your chest flutters with something light. Gratified. That dangerous, dangerous thing that can lead people off a cliff and into hell if one isn't careful. That thing that you know he can *see* that you have strung between the both of you with an invisible cord, your heart to his eyes, his mouth. That *predictable* sentiment, the hollow, pathetic hunger for affirmation that is far more perilous to possess in the Undercity than recklessness, greed, or sheer stupidity.
He knows, and he sits, a spider balanced on a splay of silk you have woven for him. Enthusiastic, willing pawn that you are. A hint of interest, and you are running.
You wonder if he can read the conflict that roils in your heart, the survivalist’s battle with this embarrassingly predictable nature that plagues the scores of mensch that tread the earth of Runeterra. Brotherhood. Freedom. Power. Does he know how greatly you struggle to remain able in his presence, how small you are made to feel despite his trust in your capacity as a courier and a reconnaisseur?
An obedient peon when necessary, of course, always obedient, but a person yet still, an individual. He must see you struggle. Does it amuse him to see you endeavor not to unravel? Does he recognize your efforts, and how? A mark of hubris, or tenacity? A bug pinned under glass, or a child fumbling toward freedom.
'Or both.' Your tone is dry, bordering on sarcastic. You have faced this line of questioning countless times from people too stupid or too insincere to understand. But as soon as the words leave your lips, you regret them. This was not some alley drunk foreign to the concept of an engaging personality.
To your immediate relief, however, his chest hitches, the most imperceptible exhalation of air let through his nose. His eye flickers off to the side before returning to you. A finger taps his cheekbone. Amusing. ‘Or both.' He echoes.
'We've slept together quite a few times, and never once have you asked me such a thing. Why the sudden interest, sir?' You deliberately add the moniker out of habit, and self-preservation. Let it never be said that you *deliberately* mouthed off to *the* Silco. Post-sex murder is an anticlimactic way to go.
Another soft hum, the note round and warm in the middle. 'Idle curiosity.'
You raise an eyebrow. It's not that you don't believe him, but it's clear that there's more to it. You tell him as much. Politely, of course.
The thread of uncertainty fades. He seems receptive to your reporte today, or perhaps he thinks offering up his motivations will result in a reciprocity that he'd otherwise glean with subterfuge and verbal acrobatics. He pulls back from his desk and opens a drawer by his knee to retrieve a leather book, and beckons you over with a lift of his chin. You tighten the strings to your pants and do as he bids.
It's an almanac for this year. Odd thing for him to have, you think. He seemed more like a newspaper man. Splaying it open on the desk before him, he flicks to the section laying out the calendar months and slides it over to you while pointing at the month of April. If you recalled correctly, you started sleeping together around the end of that month...
At first you don't know what you're looking at. Certain days are marked with a single dot, all through the past few months. Blue, green, and red dots. It takes you a moment to parse out the data, but:
'You've been tracking my gender every time we've slept together?'
'I thought it..interesting. At first there seemed to be a pattern, but by July my working theory was in shambles.' He tilts his head to give you an appraising look. 'You are woefully inconsistent, boy.'
You can’t help it, you bark out a laugh.
He tsks, good eye narrowing in a baleful glare, yet his lips twisted in a way that betrayed his lack of genuine offense toward your outburst. 'I'm glad my confusion is so amusing to you.'
'Ahah, sorry, I just didn't expect this...' you gesture to the book, '..social studies project.' Without asking, you pick it up and run your finger over the neat printed columns. You glance over at him and find him fishing out another cigar from his humidor. Turning back, you shrug. 'You could've just asked.'
There is the familiar sound of the cutter. Snip. 'I believe this would fall more under 'psychiker medicine'.' The cutter lands on the desk with a metal clunk, and then the telltale click-and-flick of the lighter.
Your smile turns sly, and you lean forward, pressing your arms on either side of your chest to push what little flesh existed there into a tiny facsimile of cleavage. 'Would you like me to be a girl next time, daddy~?'
Rolling his eyes mid-inhale, Silco takes the cigar from his mouth and allows a waterfall of smoke to billow from his nose. He flits his occupied hand at your chest as if to say 'put those away'.
You playfully stick out your tongue, clipping it between your teeth, and give a little shimmy before straightening to resume getting dressed. You feel his gaze on your back as you round the desk to retrieve your shirt.
'It would behoove you to watch your cheek where I'm concerned, Darling.’
——-
Uh, these people liked a post I made a long time ago asking if anyone was interested in this idea so you quite literally asked for it.
@spoczkot , @spooklia , @rockz-in-a-box , @fluffydogboo13 , @aftonsfatnuts , @jas-mjp
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Denial and Ruin (Silco x F!Reader)
Rating: E (MDNI)
Tags: orgasm denial, overstimulation, ruined orgasm, consent checks, p in v, vaginal fingering, some titty sucking, biting, praise link, dirty talk
A/N: based off of @dad-dumpster ‘s art of ruined orgasm Silco (pictured here and below.) I’ve been meaning to write this for a while lol
Silco’s hands were the first thing on your body. Soothing all the right spots, caressing you on the most sensitive areas, leaving trails of heat and goosebumps in their wake.
Silco had been depraved of your skin for days now, practically starving for it. Long days in that disorganized office did not help his craving for your presence, damn near drove him mad. The only thing that bore him through those dreadfully prolonged hours was his imagination, memories, and straight up want.
You had a difficult week, jobs on the side, dealing with some of Silco’s trade imports, handling bar business, and dealing with some irritating personalities that Silco calls “employees.” You were desperate for his contact again, as if his touch was an oasis in a desert. His hands on you brought a massive rush of relief, and desire.
You were practically gasping for breath as he massaged your body, succumbing to his pliable touch.
Once he knew he had your submission, he asked for your safe words.
Red? Stop.
Yellow? Slow down or needing a break.
Green? Yes.
It was the only system you two used, making sure consent and communication was clear.
He begins to kiss you tantalizingly slow, and you whine. Getting so worked up over a kiss, and he had barely done anything. His hands slowly slide up your waist and cup your breasts, giving firm pressure. Groaning into his mouth, your back arches into his hands.
Gods you are perfect, so wanting, so desperate, needing him this badly to satisfy your deepest desires.
As his mouth begins to make a trail down your jaw and neck, your hands grab his. He gives a rumbled chuckle from his chest, and his hands leave your body.
A struggled “please” leaves the very depths of your shaking form.
Placing your hands above your head, he gives a gentle reminder for you to behave, that he will take care of you.
You had no patience to wait, you needed him to touch you now.
Open mouthed kisses and marks are left on your soft skin, making you as his once more. A firm bite is left on your collar bone, surely leaving a dark mark for the days to come.
You were practically squirming, hips undulating as the throb between your thighs grows in intensity.
Reaching the soft mound on your chest, he drags his teeth in a tease. An animalistic moan leaves you that shoots through his body.
Oh, how he loves the noises you make, your pleas and cries forever bring him closer to that maddening edge. He would love to keep them in a little safe, for him alone to have and hear.
As one hand pinches a nipple softly, his tongue gives a light flick of the other. A shudder races through you and he smiles into your supple skin. Once his lips latch over the hardened bud, you begin to let out a series of keen whines and moans. Your hands struggle above you, pulling at the sheets with white knuckles that will surely be stiff the next day.
He wants you to have constant reminders of the pleasure he gives you, having you blush in public as the memories hit you.
The arch in your back grows higher as he switches from one sore nipple to the either. Prayers of his name leave you in rough tones and he shudders, his name on your lips is divine.
His lips begin to leave a trail once again, navigating south to your navel. Your lip is bitten between teeth, your eyes glazed over in ecstasy.
You were cock drunk off his touch, desperate for anything he gave you.
He pauses and a hand travels up your thigh, the muscles twitch under his grasp. Pausing just below the apex of thighs, he looks to you.
Giving the green, his hand travel north.
He pulls your puffy lips apart with two fingers, seeing the evidence of how worked up you are for him.
He could bury his face between your legs and feast off that beautiful cunt for hours.
However, today isn’t about your instant gratification.
He wants you to forget, to have your mind go numb and know only pleasure, and the pain of pleasure.
His other hand glides through your wet inner lips and your head is thrown back.
Such a good girl, getting this wet for only him.
As his fingers glide through your slick cunt, his index bumps into your clit. Your hips jump, thighs trembling as you get the smallest taste of direct contact. You look as if you’re ready to beg for him to continue touching there, to ease the pressure.
His index continues circling it, not giving you what you need. His thumb brushes over your hole, and he feels you clench.
Needy little thing, aren’t you?
His middle finally begins circling your swollen clit, and your legs strain to stay open.
Every breath is laced with a moan from you, and it causes his cock to harden. While you are lost in his gift of pleasure, he was becoming drunk off your desire. The way you affected him was infectious, and he could never have enough.
Continuing his ministrations, another set of fingers circled your entrance. His name leaves you in a cry, and fingers press forwards.
Your wet heat around his slim fingers as him breathless, his mind flashing with memories of being inside you; how you felt around his cock.
He contains a groan as his fingers begin to pump and curl into you, instantly finding that spongy spot inside you.
You were putty under his touch, molding you to forever be his.
Your walls begin to tighten around his fingers, and he picks up the pace. Your wails begin to echo off the walls as your body begins to stiffen.
You were right there, about to see stars.
His fingers halt and a loud sob escapes you. Your thighs close around his arms, hips jumping as you’re denied your orgasm.
Silco gives an amused hum and his elbows spread you back open. Once your breath began to slow, his pace returned.
Every muscle in your body began to twitch, as if you had been shocked. Your mouth opening in a silent “o.” Your whole body was flushed, face completely reddened, and your eyes screwed shut.
Coming dangerously close once again, his fingers leave your heat.
The noises that left you could only be described as sub-human, and tears pricked your unfocused eyes. His lips were on you once more, kissing your breast bone and up your neck. Your hands let go of the sheets and gripped his hair, his moan leaving him in breath. The kiss you two shared was messy, sloppy, but passionate. You were taking any part him to soothe the increasing need flowing through you.
“Please, Silco, please I need you,” Silco teeth bared a smile against your kiss swollen lips.
“Already so desperate for my cock, beg for it.” Silco pulled his face from yours, looking into your pleasure-ridden eyes.
“Please, Silco, I need you inside me, please I can’t take it,” Silco’s face hovers over yours and a slanted smirk appears on scarred lips.
“Good girl.”
Silco positions himself between your thighs, and uses the wetness on his hands to prep himself. The head of his cock presses against your hole and your nails take down his back. He teases you with it, sliding it between your lips and you beg once more. Rewarding your good behavior, he slides home in a slow thrust inwards.
Fuck, you feel so good around him.
He missed you.
He needs you.
Looking to you with one last check of confirmation, you give him the green.
Shallow thrusts aimed perfectly at that spot deep within you have you loudly crying his name once more. His heavy pants leave in clenched teeth. You were so close already, your legs are pulled to his hips and he drives into you more. A last snap of his hips has your walls fluttering and you giving breathy moans. Keeping himself stilled within you, your arms wrap around his back.
“Did you feel anything?” Your brows furrow and a whine leaves you.
“No.” A smug smile creeps on his face.
“Good,” Oh, he was going to ruin you.
His thrusts pick up in tempo, your face twisting in overstimulated pleasure.
“That’s it, my girl, taking everything I give you. Such a good girl letting me use your pretty little pussy like this.” His words are absolute filth that has you milking his cock once more.
“Please, Silco, please let me cum!” It leaves you in a shriek, and he thrusts harder.
“Cum for me, let me feel you.” Your cunt flutters once more and you scream.
Your spasming walls and shrieks are the end of his, throwing him over the edge.
He pulses inside you as his cum fills you, groaning your name as his head raises to the ceiling.
Both of your highs cause you to crash, and Silco collapses beside you. Watching your body twitch with aftershocks, he cups your face, “Breathe, dove, I’m right here.”
Slowly the intense waves of your orgasm recede, and he pulls you into his chest.
“Are you alright?” You nod and press into him more. “Words, are you okay?”
“I’m okay.” He praises you and kisses your forehead, sweeping away and hair clinging to your dampened skin. “Silco?” You get a hum of a reply and you smile warmly, “Thank you.”
Arms wrap around you tighter and a kiss is pressed to your lips. “You’re very welcome.”
#this is the smuttiest thing I’ve written lol#silco#arcane silco#silco x female reader#silco smut#silco my beloved#silco x reader#silco x y/n#silco one shot#silco fanfic
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To the Depths - Part 3.2 (NSFW)
(Pirate!Silco x F!Reader)
Damned and Double Damned
Part One - Part Two - Part 3.1
AO3
A/N: the rest of part three. Enjoy ;)
Rating: Explicit, MDNI
Summary: You accompany Silco to Port Fairna and play your part beautifully. Too beautifully.
Chapter Tags: suggestive content, teasing, grinding, dirty talk, stabbing (not the fun kind), drunk and disorderly conduct, semi-public sexy shenanigans.
Word Count: 6.4k
It’s late afternoon when the barking of voices rouses you from sleep. Golden-green light fills the room, more vibrant than its meek morning counterpart.
Silco still sits behind his desk, engrossed in a leger.
You stretch, a soft sigh escaping you before you can catch it.
Silco’s head snaps up.
“Ah.” He closes the leger with a thump and pushes away from the desk. “I was just about to wake you.”
You slide your legs off the side of the bed. Your bare feet come to rest on the wooden floor.
“I need shoes,” you say through a yawn.
Silco moves to the door and bends down before chucking one boot toward you, followed by its twin. Knee-high, made of worn black leather that has certainly seen a fair share of rough going, and about your size.
“What would possess a whore to leave her shoes behind?” You ask. “Besides your general countenance, of course.”
“Charming even after a nap, I see,” he replies. “Jinx was kind enough to lend you a pair she no longer likes. She thinks they’re too plain.”
You shove your feet into the boots. It’s a tight fit, but you’ve worn enough pinching heels that the discomfort doesn’t faze you.
You stand to give your clothing one final inspection only to realize with a sharp gasp that in the rich light, your shirt is nearly transparent. You slap a hand over your chest, cheeks burning.
“Is something the matter?” There’s that stupid little head tilt and barely-there smirk once again.
“I require a shawl.” You try not to grit your teeth.
“Unfortunately, I’m unable to accommodate that request.”
“A coat, then.”
“Impossible, I’m afraid.”
“A scarf.”
“What use do pirates have for scarves?” He turns away from you to open his wardrobe. At first, you think he’ll pull out a solution to your indecency. Instead, he makes a point of examining not one but three coats. He selects the simplest one, charcoal gray and frayed around the cuffs and hem. The other two are much finer. Fine enough to wear in many of Piltover’s respected establishments.
“A coat is an impossibility?” You press.
“If someone spots a harlot wearing a gentleman’s coat, she’ll be presumed a thief,” he explains. “That’s not a risk I’m willing to take on.”
“Yet, you’re willing to take me off the ship where I can scream for help the moment I spot a port authority?”
“You won’t be doing anything of the sort.” It’s not a threat, but a statement. The sky is blue. The ocean is deep. You won’t scream for help.
You bite back a retort. His certainty that you won’t act out can only help you.
The ship rocks as it bumps against a dock.
Silco secures a belt around his waist before selecting a rapier and two pistols. Once weapons are sheathed and holstered, he tugs on the coat. “Ready, treasure?”
You nod, keeping your gaze on the floor as you approach him. He unlocks the cabin door and opens it for you. You step onto the deck, folding your arms across your chest, and hunching forward to make yourself look as small as possible.
Silco moves ahead of you and you follow him to the gangplank. You even take his offered hand as you disembark.
As soon as you set foot on the dock, his arm snakes around the small of your back.
“What are you doing?” You ask, your voice barely more than a whisper.
“Playing the part,” he says. “You’re meant to be my purchased travel companion. I ought to look like I enjoy your company.”
“Oh.”
You feel his eye studying you. Rather than meet his gaze head-on, like every nerve in your body urges you to do, you stare at your skirts. You close your eyes and take a deep breath, hoping you convey the right image.
Demure. Compliant. Resigned. You’ve surrendered to your circumstances. You won’t cause trouble. When Silco looks away with a quiet grunt, you think you’ve pulled it off. Now, you just have to keep it up until you can flag down some help or slip away.
Now that exhaustion no longer clouds your mind, you can accurately assess the opportunity you’ve been presented with. You can enact your last resort plan now. Sneak away, disappear. Hide until you find work. Start a new life.
Guilt twists in your stomach right alongside a flutter of anticipation.
You don’t want to believe severing yourself from your family is the only solution. But what if this is the best chance you’re ever going to get to live your life on your own terms?
You walk in quiet contemplation, willing to let Silco guide you through the bustling dock. When wood gives way to dirt paths, you look up. Something isn’t right. Yes, you were deep in thought but not deep enough to miss the expected exchange with a dockmaster.
You glance over your shoulder. There is no one at the entrance to the dock. Not a single person looks to be in a position of authority.
Port Fairna. You wrack your brain for any information you can dreg up. During your years at sea, you visited nearly every port between Targon and Ionia, but Port Fairna doesn’t sound familiar at all.
You look around, determined to keep your breathing even and your expression placid. There isn’t a single flag. No sign of allegiance to any nation. No official presence of any government.
The pieces click together in your mind.
A free port. A pirate haven. No wonder he was so certain you wouldn’t call for help. There is no help to be found here.
“There it is,” Silco’s mouth is at your ear, his voice light and taunting. “I was wondering when you’d figure it out.”
“Figure what out?” Your attempt at ignorance is far from convincing as your mind struggles to rearrange your plans under new circumstances.
“Did you honestly think I’d fall for your little act?” The tip of his nose brushes your temple. “So subdued and helpless. A perfect damsel in need of a rescuer. You’ll find no such thing here.”
You remain silent, jaw clenched as you’re ushered up the dirt road. Bustling establishments line the street, glowing from within with warm light. Scents of spices, perfume, fried dough, and woodsmoke fill the air, all layered over a persistent sourness. Rot, piss, and poverty. Laughter and music float through the air as well as shouts and arguments.
Brilliant bolts of brightly dyed fabrics stretch between buildings, creating a sort of tunnel over the street. Lanterns of blown glass in an array of colors hang from walls and are suspended from wires overhead.
You’d like to take in the sights, always thrilled by the prospect of a new place despite the danger, but Silco isn’t finished taunting you.
“Not a bad performance, I’ll admit. That little charade would have fooled a lesser man.”
“Is there a lesser man than you?” You peer up at him, brows drawn and eyes wide. Mockingly innocent.
Instead of frowning or glaring, he smiles and brings his face closer to yours.
“Oh, yes. There are many of them. They’re here tonight, pulling whores into dark alleys, pissing in the streets, and spitting out bloody teeth. No doubt, they’re looking at you now.” He brings his free hand up to tug at a loose strand of your hair. “Such a pretty face. Much fairer than anything they’ve seen in weeks. Months, maybe. Do you know what they want to do to a beauty like you?”
You jerk away from his touch, refusing to show the fear his words have injected into your blood. He’s only trying to scare you into behaving. Nothing more.
“I am your safety in a place like this, treasure. If you decide to forget that, all of the ransom money in the world won’t be able to save you.”
He straightens up to his full height but keeps his arm around you.
As you walk, your glance darts between every person you pass on the street. Most are too drunk or drugged to know where they are - let alone take notice of you - but you see enough leering smiles and violent gazes to understand Silco wasn’t just trying to scare you.
He leads you through the swinging doors of a tavern. Bodies press together around the bar, shouting for drinks. Too many tables are crammed into the poorly lit space and every seat is filled. You can’t take a step without the risk of tripping over limbs or stepping on toes.
Silco never moves his arm from your back, even when he pauses to greet others. The spaces between the tables are both highways for serving wenches to deliver food and drink as well as alleys for dancing. Women glide through the room, blouses pulled low and corsets pulled tight to display assets.
You glance at your own outfit. You’d fit right in amongst their ranks.
Silco moves to an empty wooden booth at the back of the tavern, half bathed in shadow.
You find it odd it’s been left unoccupied even though plenty of patrons appear to be waiting for a place to sit. Has this booth been left open for him, specifically?
He takes a seat near the opening of the booth. You move to slide in from the other opening, but a hand around your wrists stops you.
“Your seat is right here.” He pats his thigh.
“You’ve lost your mind.”
“Look around,” he glances around the room. “Tell me what you see the other working girls doing.”
He keeps his hand around your wrist as you do so. It doesn’t take long for a pattern to emerge. If a girl is on her feet, she’s searching. As soon as she’s found a potential cull for the evening, she settles into their lap even if there is an open seat available.
“I’m not sitting in your lap,” you hiss.
“Suit yourself.” He releases you and turns his attention to the room. Before you can say anything, a sweaty man reeking of every sort of vile thing stumbles over to you. He doesn’t say hello. He doesn’t say anything as his hand darts forward to grab a fistful of your ass through your skirts.
“How dare you?” You shriek, your hand flying on its own accord and colliding with the man’s bristly cheek. He stumbles back, confused but his brain is too addled with drink to fully understand what’s just happened to him.
Beside you, Silco chuckles.
Not to be deterred, the man comes toward you again.
“Ugh. Fine.” You plop yourself into Silco’s lap before the stranger can make another grab.
“Hey! Thassnot fair. I saw ‘er first,” he slurs.
“The lady is engaged for the evening. I suggest you find your thrills elsewhere.” Silco’s voice is calm, almost pleasant but the threat beneath his words ripples through the air so strongly, even the drunken fool before you can’t ignore it. He stumbles away, muttering incoherently.
You wrestle with the sense of gratitude bubbling in your chest. As you try to find the right words, Silco turns to you.
“Did we learn a valuable lesson, treasure?”
And, just like that, any inkling of gratitude is gone.
“I’m not trying to learn anything about how to be a convincing harlot in a pirate’s port,” you bristle, earning a low chuckle from him. You take the opportunity to make yourself comfortable, ensuring you bump and elbow him as much as you can in the process.
You sit sideways in his lap. He sits forward, facing the table. Your shoulder presses against his chest, facing toward the crowded tavern, your knees pointed toward the entrance.
When you’ve landed enough little blows to make yourself feel better, you go still. You’re not comfortable at all, but you’ll deal with it. Then, Silco shifts under you. It’s a small movement, little more than a bump, but somehow it slots your body against his like a lock clicking into place. Every curve somehow fits against him. One arm wraps around your back, supporting you. The other reaches forward to rest on the table, creating a barrier between yourself and the rest of the tavern.
A flick of his wrist summons a serving girl. The moment she sees him, she nods with understanding and rushes off. Within five minutes, two plates are placed before you along with two tankards. You don’t touch the tankard, but you eagerly devour the roasted potatoes and bread on your plate. You don’t even mind having to eat with your hands.
There is some kind of fatty meat as well, but you can’t identify it. You decide to leave it alone.
Silco eats slowly, barely making a dent in his meal. He pushes his untouched bread to your plate and you don’t hesitate to bite into it. He sips from his tankard and watches the people flooding in and out.
You aren’t sure what he’s looking for until two men enter the tavern. They approach the booth, ignoring the temptations of food, music, and women.
“Gentlemen,” Silco nods as they slip into the booth. The conversation that ensues is difficult to follow. They speak of places you’ve never heard of and reference myths and legends as though they are fact. It quickly becomes clear they speak in code to prevent eavesdropping, so you let your attention wander until you realize you’re the object of conversation.
“And she won’t say a word?” One of the men asks, his voice gruff and his gaze like flint.
“Her?” Silco’s voice goes soft as he tightens his grip around you. “She’s the sweetest thing under the sun. She’d never hurt a fly, let alone spill secrets that could get someone killed.”
You nearly laugh at the description. No doubt, Silco chose his words to deliver a little dig at you in secret. What you don’t expect is to feel his forehead come to rest against your temple, to feel his nose nudge against your cheek.
“Isn’t that right, treasure?” He prompts.
You think quickly and elect to play the fool.
“Hm?” You sit up a little straighter and stifle a false giggle. “I’m sorry, I wasn’t paying attention. I was listening to the music.”
“Were you?” His laugh is as forced as your own, but the men across the table seem to buy it. “It’s rather lively, isn’t it? Perhaps, we’ll find a dance hall when I’m finished here. Would you like that?”
The thought of Silco dancing elicits a laugh you can pass off as one of delight. “I would.”
“Where’d you find one like that?” The second man asks. He does not attempt to hide the way he sizes up your body. “She’s high quality.”
“I found her in Piltover, believe it or not,” Silco says. You go tense against him only to feel his fingers press into your back in warning.
“Piltover?” The first man chuckles. “That’s too rich for my blood. I’m not putting down a month’s wages for a night of fun.”
“I prefer to think of her as an investment.” Silco trails his fingers up your arm. You swallow hard as you fight off the urge to break his fingers. “Besides, Piltover girls are so desperately underfucked they pay for themselves within a week.”
That pulls a belly laugh from both men as your cheeks burn. You’re doing all you can to keep a leash on your temper when you hear Silco whisper, “isn’t that right?”
You don’t say anything. You don’t need to. The men have shifted their attention away from you and back to business. Their conversation quickly concludes and the men see themselves out.
Once you’re sure you won’t be overhead, you look at Silco. “Underfucked? How dare you?”
“I need to sell a story to explain your presence. Forgive me, if I pull from reality to make it more believable.” He’s baiting you. You know it and you refuse to take it. Instead, you pluck a few potatoes from his plate and stew in silence. When you’re thirsty enough, you take a sip from your tankard.
Low-quality beer. What else did you expect?
What you wouldn’t give for a glass of sparkling wine or even a sip of rich bourbon.
The night continues in a similar fashion. Rough-looking men and women slide into the booth to speak with Silco. They speak in code so you quickly give up trying to make heads or tails of what they discuss. Any time your presence is met with suspicion, Silco turns into a most doting keeper, praising your sweetness and your discretion.
You decide it’s in your best interest to play along. When he nuzzles into your hair, you nuzzle back. If he trails fingers up your arm, you trace mindless patterns over the back of his hand.
It’s a funny little game of give and take, but it results in a convincing performance.
“Only one more meeting left,” he says after the booth is vacated once again. You can’t help but notice that he sounds tired. Or, at least, disinterested.
Before you can say anything, that same stupid drunk from earlier wobbles up to the table.
“You’ve had ‘er all night and y’haven’t even fucked ‘er.” If possible, he’s even more in his cups than he was before. “Give someone else a turn.”
You shrink away from the drunk, pushing yourself deeper against Silco. His hand splays across your back, his thumb moving in tiny, reassuring strokes.
“As I said before, the lady is engaged for the evening.”
The drunk pauses, working quite hard to process Silco’s words before shaking his head. “Let her engage in this cock and then you can have her back.”
He juts his hips forward, his shins brushing against your knees. You recoil, tucking your legs under the table.
The movement sets the drunk off balance. He stumbles forward, catching himself with a splayed hand on your table.
In a blink, Silco produces a dagger. From where you aren’t certain. You don’t recall him strapping a dagger to his person before you departed the Zaun’s Revenge. You expect Silco to use the knife to emphasize another threat. Instead, Silco plunges the dagger through the drunkard's hand, pinning him to the table.
The drunkard wails and thrashes, which only makes the wound worse. Blood bubbles up where blade meets skin, spilling onto the table’s surface, less than a foot from you.
This is far from ideal.
“Do you want to make your request again?” Silco’s voice is as sharp as his blade.
“N-no,” the drunk whimpers.
“Do you want to apologize to my companion?”
“Sorry.” It’s barely audible through his slurring and sobbing.
“Look her in the eye,” Silco demands.
Slowly, the drunk drags his gaze to meet yours. Sick satisfaction coils in your stomach, purring and pleased with the scene playing out before you. For the first time this evening, your smile is genuine.
“Apologize,” Silco growls.
“I’m sorry!” The man’s voice is pleading, desperate.
Good.
“Do you forgive him, treasure?”
You cock your head to the side and take a long moment to consider. After an appropriate amount of time, you shrug as though you couldn’t care less. As though the man’s suffering barely registers in your mind.
You look over your shoulder at Silco only to find him watching you rather than the man he has pinned. For a split second, you wonder how far you can push this. That pulsing, hot desire to unleash years worth of rage upon the drunken bastard battles against your morals. Your morals win out in the end. Barely.
“Will you please remove your blade from the poor drunk’s hand?” You ask.
“Feeling sorry for the lout, treasure?”
“Not at all.” Your upper lip twitches in disgust. “I just don’t care to have him pinned so close to me. Wasn’t the goal to drive him away?”
“Good point.” With a sharp twist, the knife is removed from the blubbering man’s hand. As soon as he’s no longer pinned in place, you kick out with one leg. You misjudge the distance. What you wished to be a solid kick square to the chest is little more than a tap, but it’s enough to set him off balance. Clutching his hand to his chest, his back crashes into the dirty tavern floor. He’s too drunk and in too much pain to right himself, so he crawls away like the pathetic dog he is.
“My, my,” Silco’s voice is like a velvet-wrapped blade in your ear. “Does your fiancé know you have a taste for violence?”
“No.” You turn your head toward him causing his nose to brush against the cut of your cheekbone. Why is he always so close? “I didn’t know I had such a taste until I met you.”
It’s meant to be a scathing insult, but your voice can’t quite summon its usual edge. You hear it. More importantly, he hears it.
You turn away sharply so you can watch the drunkard’s equally drunken mates attempt to drag him off the floor. The last thing you expect is the gentle brush of Silco’s fingers as he pushes your hair over your shoulder to expose the nape of your neck. A shiver glides over your skin and you suck in a breath to hide it.
“I didn’t realize I had such an effect on you.” His breath tickles your skin as his fingertips trace a lazy path from the base of your skull, down the curve of your neck, to your shoulder. You fight through another shiver but can do nothing about the goosebumps that spread down your arms.
“You don’t.” It takes all of your self-control to keep your voice even and unaffected.
“Oh?” His fingers move in gentle circles around your shoulder. You hone in on the sensation only to be caught off guard when his mouth presses into the sensitive spot behind your ear.
You can’t stop the way your breath hitches in your chest nor can you stop the soft sigh that escapes your lips.
“Are you certain of that?”
Insufferable, smug bastard.
You lean forward and force your back to go ramrod straight.
“Absolutely,” you bristle, cheeks burning. You pray the low lighting of the tavern hides the worst of your blush.
Then, an idea strikes you.
Admittedly, it’s a stupid idea. A terrible idea, even. But you can’t resist the chance to give him a taste of his own medicine.
You pretend to notice something amiss with your borrowed boots and lean forward until your chest presses into your thighs. You pretend to correct the imaginary problem, doing all you can to ignore his hand as he grips the soft flesh above your hip.
Once you’ve spent enough time solving your imagined boot issue, you straighten up again, rolling your hips as you do so. Silco goes stone still. You’re not even sure he’s breathing. Believing you’ve caught him off guard, you roll your hips again.
Quick as a viper, the hand at your side snakes around your middle and pulls you in tight, locking you in place. That wicked, wicked mouth brushes against your ear.
“What do you think you’re doing?”
“Finishing what you started.” The words are out of your mouth before you can stop them. You feel his chuckle more than you hear it.
“Considering the circumstances under which we met, I’m beginning to think you enjoy having me behind you.”
Oh, damn him.
“I-” you start but your voice fails you as his tongue traces a faint line from the base of your neck to your jaw. Beneath your borrowed shirt, your nipples tighten into sensitive peaks. Every time you draw breath, the fabric brushes against you, only heightening the sensation.
“What’s that, treasure?” The arm around your middle retracts just enough for his hand to splay partway between your hip and your lower belly. His fingers press into you as his grip tightens, urging you to move against him. “Something about finishing what I started?”
The mocking lilt in his voice stokes something molten deep in your core. You plant a hand on the table, careful to avoid the blood, to push yourself up and away from him. You’d rather walk back to the Zaun’s Revenge alone, dressed like a harlot than admit Silco has the upper hand.
Before you can even get into a half-seat, slender fingers wrap around your neck while the arm across your middle pulls you back into his lap.
“What’s the matter? I thought you wanted to play.” When his lips press into your neck once more, you feel the scrape of chipped teeth against your skin. Your body, the traitorous thing, moves of its own accord. Your hips roll again. This time, you feel something pressing into the bottom curve of your ass.
Now it’s your turn to be smug. You’re getting to him just as much as he’s getting to you. You shift in his lap, just a fraction. When you rock your hips again, you press against him fully. Now, it’s his turn to fail at hiding the hitch in his breath.
You keep going, rocking back against him as he presses into you. You bite down hard on your bottom lip to suppress a sigh. He’s hard beneath you and you can feel every inch of his length.
The shatter of breaking glass draws your attention away from your ruinous behavior. You glance around the tavern, terrified you’ll be spotted and branded as a fallen woman but no one pays you any mind. You and Silco may as well be in another realm. No one cares what you’re doing in your shadowy booth in the back of the tavern.
You let the din surrounding you fade into the back of your mind and allow yourself to relish in the sensation of Silco’s cock rubbing against you through your skirts.
“I don’t want to play.” You turn your head to whisper in his ear. “I want to win.”
His hand slides from your neck to your sternum. “I’d like to see you try.”
You continue to rock against him, shifting in his lap to ensure you feel as much of him as you can.
The hand on your chest dips lower, slipping beneath the billowy fabric of your shirt. He cups one breast, thumb grazing over your nipple in a fleeting, teasing movement.
You swallow your sigh, hoping he’ll try again. No doubt he wants a reaction out of you as much as you want a slower, firmer touch. More kisses are pressed into your neck as his thumb finds your nipple once again. This time, he lingers, swirling gentle circles over the stiff peak.
Now, you let your sigh escape as your head drops back.
“Look at you,” he murmurs. “So quick to give in. You want to be obedient, don’t you?”
“It’s not in my nature.”
“Yet, here you are.” He slides his hand over your hip. “Do all of Piltiover’s prized virgins know how to move their hips in such a way?”
“I wouldn’t know. I’m not among their numbers.”
“Oh?” He pushes up against you. “Has Vander had a taste of his sweet fiancée?”
“Don’t be absurd,” you snap, instantly disappointed in yourself for letting a genuine emotion slip in the middle of your game.
“Ah.” The rumble of his laughter hums through your bones. “Who has been tasting your honey, if not your fiancé, treasure?”
“How is that any of your business, pirate?” You still your rocking hips only to feel him pull against you in an effort to keep the pressure of your backside against his cock. Warm satisfaction spreads through you as you relish the tiny shred of power you wield over him. A simple, primal power won without skill or strategy, but power nonetheless. “No doubt you’re the sort that believes a woman’s value decreases if she’s been with anyone but her husband.”
“Not at all.” A forefinger joins his thumb to lightly pinch your nipple, pulling a hiss from your mouth. “I care not for being the first. I prefer to dedicate my efforts to being the best.”
“Congratulations. You’re the best pirate to ever grope me in a piss-soaked tavern. How proud you must be.”
“Don’t act all high and mighty, not when we both know what’s to be found beneath those skirts.” The gentle pinch grows to a soft twist before the hand retracts. You nearly whine from the lack of contact, but you’re spared that embarrassment when he moves to your neglected breast, thumb taking up those slow, gentle circles once more.
“Your arrogance is unmatched.”
The hand on your hip slides to the exposed slice of your leg.
“Perhaps, I am arrogant,” he murmurs. “But that doesn’t mean I’m wrong.”
As his hand moves to your inner thigh, you consider pulling away. The fact you’ve allowed this to go so far is ridiculous. You should stop.
Then, this stubborn little voice rises inside of you. How many things have you done because it’s what you should do? When was the last time you did something because you wanted to?
You can’t remember. Knowing it’s only because you shouldn’t want this, you part your legs just a little more. A small rebellion.
His fingers drag higher before he comes to an abrupt halt. You recall your earlier choice to forgo any kind of undergarment and you’re willing to bet he’s just noticed.
“The Piltlie princess is naughtier than I realized.” His voice is a warm rumble against your neck and his touch slips higher. A thousand sharp remarks and insults fight for dominance on the tip of your tongue but they scatter and fizzle into nothing the moment the tip of his finger drags up the length of your slit.
You know he feels how wet you are. There’s no denying it’s his doing. When he moans into your hair, you respond by grinding your ass against his cock.
“Not just naughty,” he groans. “Dirty.”
He makes another long, slow stroke up your center, pulling a shiver from you. You eagerly wait for another, but something has caught his attention. His hand retracts from both your skirt and your top. You bite back a whimper. As much as you wish for the contact to return, you don’t want to be pathetic about it.
You pull yourself from the haze of your arousal just as two more men settle into the booth across from you. You don’t bother trying to pay attention to the conversation that ensues. You won’t understand a word of it anyway. Silco has made sure of that.
Instead, you focus on getting yourself back under control. You’ve had your fun, but enough is enough. You can’t seriously allow yourself to entertain the notion of…
No, you can’t even bring yourself to think about it.
You’ve played the part assigned to you. That’s all.
Business concludes between the three men. When the two strangers leave, you half expect Silco to return his attention to you, but he doesn’t. He signals to the serving wench once more. Moments later, she appears with a paper box. Before you can ask what it contains, a bump of his hip urges you onto your feet. He slides out of the booth and wraps an arm around your waist before leading you out of the tavern.
Night has fallen and the streets have only grown rowdier.
“Is that all?” You ask.
“Do you want more?” His voice is dark and dangerous, almost enough to make you forget yourself all over again.
“I’m asking if you’re finished conducting business for the evening if you can even call it that.”
“I am,” he says. “But we both know that’s not what you were asking.”
You say nothing, unwilling to give him even the tiniest inch of satisfaction as he steers you back to the docks. A small part of you wishes to explore the port. To taste the foods hawked by street vendors and dance to music that seems to be interwoven into the very air. But you know it’s not safe to do so in a port like this.
You’re ushered onto the Zaun’s Revenge. Jinx appears at your side with a hopeful look in her eye.
“How’d it go?” She asks Silco.
“Very well,” he replies.
“Anything…interesting?” She leans forward just a touch.
“Interesting?” He feigns confusion. “I don’t know about that, but I did find this.” He holds out the paper box for her, which she quickly plucks from his hand. She nearly shreds it to ribbons in her eagerness to open it, revealing a cluster of sugared sweets that look like little jewels.
“I haven’t had these in ages,” she sighs, leaning her cheek into his shoulder. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome, minnow,” he says with an indulgent smile.
Something strange tugs at your heart as Jinx hurries away with her prize.
As soon as the gangplank is lifted, cutting off any escape you might have had the mind to make, Silco’s arm retracts from your waist. He moves up the deck, issuing commands as his crew hurries to unfurl sails and get underway.
You make your way to the weather deck in order to get the best view of the port before the Zaun’s Revenge pulls away. It’s a lovely sight from this vantage point, away from the stench and unpleasantness. The streets remind you of stained glass with all of their colored lights.
The ship pulls away from the dock. You don’t hear Silco approach. He simply appears beside you.
“You behaved well,” he says. “I’m going to retire to my cabin. You’re welcome to join me or you can remain on deck.”
“You aren’t going to keep an eye on me?” You taunt.
“Everyone aboard this ship knows to keep an eye on you after last night’s ill-fated escape plan,” he says. “Don’t think you can get away with anything like that again.”
“Does that mean I win?”
He tilts his head. “Do you think our little game is over?”
“Isn’t it?” You say. “I’m not retiring to your cabin until I intend to sleep. You lose.”
“Oh, how sweet.” He takes a half step closer. “Tell me, what do you think I’d consider a victory?”
You have an answer, but you can’t bring yourself to say it. Fortunately - or unfortunately, you aren’t sure - he answers for you.
“Just because I’m not carrying you into my cabin to spread your legs, doesn’t mean I’ve lost.”
“Isn’t that exactly what it means?” You match his matter-of-fact tone, holding his gaze.
“Not at all.” He leans closer. “Perhaps, I won’t get to sink into that eager cunt I felt back
at the tavern. The real victory is knowing how badly you wanted it.”
You pull away from him, an indignant flush heating your face.
“Don’t deny it, treasure. I felt the proof myself.” With a wink, he leaves you at the bow positively fuming.
That arrogant, spiteful, infuriating, ridiculous man. You wish you had something to lob at his retreating back.
Fine, your body may have responded to his touch in a certain way but you felt how hard he was beneath you. He doesn't have the upper hand here. If anything, you’re both humans that enjoy specific aspects of human contact. You can come to terms with that.
But the fact he thinks he’s won something? Unacceptable.
You might just sleep on the deck just to make him doubt himself.
The Zaun’s Revenge drifts out to sea. The lights of Port Fairna fade away within the hour. You look up at the night sky, easily finding Eiredus amongst the glittering pinpricks of light.
“I ask for help and you give me this?” You mutter.
“Who are you talking to?”
You turn to find a sailor stationed at the helm watching you with bleary eyes that point in slightly different directions.
“The stars,” you answer honestly.
“Do…do they talk back?”
“I don’t think so.”
“That’s too bad. I get bored up here by myself.”
You scan the deck and masts, spotting one crew member up in the crow’s nest and a few clustered together near the bow, deep in conversation.
“You look tired.” You conjure your softest, tenderest voice. “Have you slept lately?”
“I didn’t sleep well last night. It’s getting to me now.” He yawns as he speaks.
“Why don’t you take a little nap?” You offer.
“I have to tend the helm.”
“Is the heading changing anytime soon?” You ask.
He hesitates for a moment before shaking his head.
“Take a little nap,” you urge. “I’m not going anywhere for a while. I can handle keeping the wheel straight while you get a little shut-eye.”
“I shouldn’t,” he mumbles, shifting from foot to foot as he fights another yawn.
“Take half an hour,” you say. “You can’t do your job properly if you’re too tired to see straight.” You wince the second the words are out of your mouth, but the crewmate doesn’t notice your blunder.
“Good point,” he nods. “Okay. I’ll be right back. Just half an hour.”
“I’ve sailed before,” you assure him. “I know what I’m doing.”
He leaves you in charge. No one clustered at the bow notices the switch.
You decide to act quickly, just in case someone spots you. You grasp the wheel and turn the ship ever so slightly. You don’t cause a dramatic shift in movement. All you want to do is throw the Zaun’s Revenge off course, just slightly. Just to be petty. Just to create a headache for Silco in a few hours when he realizes his ship isn’t where he wants it to be. A little victory of your own.
A half-hour passes, and the crewmate returns to the helm. He notices nothing out of the ordinary and thanks you for helping him out. With a smile, you take your leave and make your way to the Captain’s cabin.
Silco sits at his desk, the space illuminated by a single lantern.
You don’t look at him as you remove your borrowed corset and climb into his bed.
You aren’t sure how long it’s been when you’re startled awake by a violent boom of thunder and a harsh rock of the ship. Before you can sit up, the ship rocks again, nearly spilling you onto the floor. You look through the window as lightning flashes. The Zaun’s Revenge has been swallowed by a vicious storm.
********
big thank you to @sherwood-forests @silcoitus and @ilikemymendarkandfictional for beta-reading. Drink up me hearties, yo ho!
#silco x reader#silco x you#silco fanfic#silco arcane#pirate!silco#silco pirate au#arcane pirate au#silco#arcane silco#mdni#to the depths
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Vampire AU - Part II
Silco x Fem!Reader
Warnings: Drinking
WC: 3720
Chapter II: An Unexpected Welcome
Part I here!
Sky came with you to clean out your office the next afternoon, which was fortunate because you promised yourself you would cut Jayce down to size if you saw him. Potential verbal slander aside, you were actually in a decent mood while packing up your things together, the possibility of a new job opportunity left a bubbly feeling in your gut. Not to mention, that voice on the other end of the phone left a very different feeling in your head.
The two of you got back to your apartment before the sun set, and Sky went to hop in the shower. Your nail-biting anticipation got the better of you, and you booted up your laptop to check on your application. You opened your email first.
Your heart paused in your ribcage as you refreshed the screen once, twice. The email read similarly to the job posting. Blunt. To the point. Still, it filled you with joy all the same as you clung to every word:
𝗬/𝗡,
𝗪𝗲 𝗮𝗿𝗲 𝗽𝗹𝗲𝗮𝘀𝗲𝗱 𝘁𝗼 𝗼𝗳𝗳𝗲𝗿 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗽𝗼𝘀𝗶𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻 𝗮𝘀 𝗮 𝗣𝗿𝗶𝘃𝗮𝘁𝗲 𝗧𝘂𝘁𝗼𝗿. 𝗬𝗼𝘂 𝘄𝗶𝗹𝗹 𝗳𝗶𝗻𝗱 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗮𝗱𝗱𝗿𝗲𝘀𝘀 𝗯𝗲𝗹𝗼𝘄. 𝗔𝗿𝗿𝗶𝘃𝗲 𝗼𝗻 𝗦𝘂𝗻𝗱𝗮𝘆 𝗮𝘁 𝗻𝗼𝗼𝗻 𝘀𝗵𝗮𝗿𝗽. 𝗬𝗼𝘂 𝘄𝗶𝗹𝗹 𝗯𝗲 𝗽𝗿𝗼𝘃𝗶𝗱𝗲𝗱 𝘄𝗶𝘁𝗵 𝗹𝗶𝘃𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗾𝘂𝗮𝗿𝘁𝗲𝗿𝘀, 𝗺𝗲𝗮𝗹𝘀, 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝘆𝗼𝘂𝗿 𝗰𝗼𝗺𝗽𝗲𝗻𝘀𝗮𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻 𝘄𝗶𝗹𝗹 𝗯𝗲 𝗽𝗮𝗶𝗱 𝗯𝘆 𝗰𝗵𝗲𝗰𝗸.
𝗜𝘁 𝘄𝗶𝗹𝗹 𝗽𝗹𝗲𝗮𝘀𝗲 𝘂𝘀 𝗴𝗿𝗲𝗮𝘁𝗹𝘆 𝘁𝗼 𝗵𝗼𝘀𝘁 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗮𝘁 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗺𝗮𝗻𝗼𝗿 𝗳𝗼𝗿 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗻𝗲𝘅𝘁 𝗳𝗲𝘄 𝗺𝗼𝗻𝘁𝗵𝘀.
𝗥𝗲𝗴𝗮𝗿𝗱𝘀.
𝟭𝟭𝟯𝟰 𝗡 𝗟𝗜𝗩𝗘𝗗 𝗟𝗔𝗡𝗘, 𝗭𝗔𝗨𝗡
“Hey Sky!” You called, drawing her name out over a couple seconds to get her attention.
“What is it?” She pops out of the bathroom with a face mask and a towel covering her soft body, steam billowing into the hallway.
“You’re going to have this place all to yourself for a little while, because I got the job!” You shouted with glee.
“That’s amazing!” She joined you in jumping up and down, “We are going to celebrate tonight, obviously, hurry up and get ready!”
-
Your bar of choice, nestled right in the heart of the Piltover City Arts district was buzzing with patrons, yourself and your best friend blurring into a seemingly endless sea of faces. You bravely stalked over to the bar, hand in hand with Sky, shepherding her through the packed bar. You were taller than her, and with heels, you were a towering statue carved of the finest stone. One of the bartenders caught your eye immediately, her striking neon green hair done up in braids laced like a crown on her head. She checked the both of you out as you laid your hands on the sticky, glowing bar top.
“Two espresso martinis please!” You gave the green-haired beauty your card.
“And two shots of tequila!” She gave you that look with her eyebrows. “We’re celebrating, aren’t we?”
“Celebrating? Yes. Getting drunk the night before I have to start a new job though? I might have to pass.” Your words didn’t even convince yourself, let alone your friend who knows you better than you do.
You smile your thanks once more at the bartender before picking up your shot glass. “Bottoms up!” You clink your glass with Sky and down the hatch it goes. The burn from the alcohol, like Silco’s pronunciation of your name, warming your ears down to your toes.
-
Several drinks later, Sky had wandered off to hypnotize an unsuspecting handsome man with her sweet charms no doubt, and your advances at the green-haired bartender were being returned. Your mind felt blissfully cloudy like fairy floss.
A shove on your shoulder leaves you stumbling a step to the side. Flames coming from your ears you whip around, ‘Excuse you!”
“It’s me you goof!” Sky shoves you playfully again, “I have been trying to get your attention, but it seems like your own name doesn’t even register with you, have you seen the place that you’ll be going to tomorrow?”
Your buzz fizzled out, that same feet-kicking excitement you felt last night on the phone replacing the booze. “No, why?”
“Okay, well, I can’t have you going somewhere that I’m not familiar with.” She paused, making sure you were following, “So I looked up the address, and you have got to check these pictures out.” She held up her phone for you to see what she was looking at.
You were awestruck, sure enough, the address was that of a manor, but like, one from an old-timey film or something. The photos showed a wrought iron gate with a grey brick driveway up to the home. The home looked spectacular and looming. Lovely and terrifying all the same.
“You think that’s good? Wait ‘till I show you the lord of the manor.” Sky grabbed her phone back and opened another tab. “There is only one single photo I could find, but here.” She handed it back to you.
You beheld a black and white photo of, what you could only describe as, a man from another time. He looked regal, poised like a king as the camera had captured his right side profile. His nose was long and straight, his eye was an emerald mixed with aquamarine, and the way he was looking down made you feel like a peasant just for glimpsing an eclipse of his strong, hard features. He was terrifying and handsome.
-
You roll out of bed to your alarm, get ready in a hurry, and toss your suitcases in the back of Sky’s coupe. It’s nothing short of a miracle that you’re not hungover from your drinking last night. The two of you stop for drinks at the nearest coffee shop and are on your merry - not so merry since neither of you are a morning person - way out of Piltover City.
Sky passes you the aux and you put on your favorite playlist to pass the time while mindlessly chattering. Several hours later, the morning clouds had cleared and left a gorgeous, sunny sky above. Perfect driving weather.
The road turned from paved concrete to cobblestone as you turned off the long road and into the town of Zaun. The car went up and over a hill and you sucked in a sharp breath as you beheld the view. A picturesque town lay in the middle of a clearing surrounded by trees of every height and shade of green. A small river drifted along on the north side of the town. Wildflowers and lush grasses gently swayed in the breeze, beckoning you forth. Slate-colored and classic red bricks made up the majority of the houses and shops, with rooftops which made the homes look like they were covered in a sea of reds, browns, and oranges. A clock tower in the dead center of the village chimed loudly, a swarm of black and grey birds fleeing from the nearby roof shingles and the bells rang out.
Time slowed as you continued onward, and you felt unnerved suddenly. There was no one out and about even though the weather was perfect. Weird. Not only could you not see anyone, but when you rolled down your window and paused the music, you couldn’t hear anyone either. The town was silent barring the sound of the tires rolling over the ground and the birds singing in the air.
“Okay, do you feel like we entered a different time period, or is it just me?” Sky sounded truly baffled, exactly matching how you felt inside. “I almost feel guilty driving my car along these old roads, I hope I’m not causing any damage to the town's history or anything like that.”
You agreed with her, “It’s like we stepped in a time machine or something. But don’t worry about the roads, the history of this town lies in its historical figures and legends, not their architecture. I mean, homes and small buildings like these haven’t been replicated in centuries, this town is old old.”
Sky’s navigation system led you through the narrow, winding streets of the town, finally straightening out and turning into a dirt road leading into a dark forest. It continued for about half a mile, well enough away from the town that if you weren’t on a well-traveled path you would certainly not know which direction to go. The trees grew closely together and blocked out the sun above. Someone likes their privacy, you thought.
Finally, you saw the blue sky again from between a break in the trees not too far up. You both blinked in astonishment at the land that laid out in front of you. A massive green grassy lawn sprawled as far as the eye could see on each side of the path, which turned from dirt into grey and red brick. Small shrubs and hedges lined the edge of the road as you continued at a slug's pace. In front of you stood the absolutely massive manor. It could have been a castle; it was so big.
You had gone to parties and events in Piltover penthouses, but you had no idea someone’s house could be so big. The front of the home was made up of smooth rock, pieced together like a beautiful mosaic of grey. Long arms of ivy trailed up and wrapped the pillars and front archway in thick, lush green leaves and vines. Wrought-iron framed windows glinted in the mid-afternoon sun. Slate tiles on the roof were interrupted at uneven intervals with chimneys reaching up towards the heavens. Smoke could be seen emanating from half of them, the grey and white vapor dissipating in the blue sky above.
The vast front doors had wrought iron handles, and intricate stained glass twin windows depicting a scene befitting an old church. It looked like a sacrifice of an animal or something. You didn’t get a full look before the right door clicked twice from the inside and swung open with a well-oiled, near-silent creak. The dim interior lit the silhouette of the tall person in the doorway, but you could make out her strong arms, stiff posture, and complete scowl on her face. She had a scar in a thin line underneath her left eye, trailing down the deep brown skin of her cheek and to her neck. She wore a uniform made up of a brown leather jacket with a neatly folded collar and lapels. The black button-down shirt underneath was tucked neatly into her crisply pressed brown trousers and held up with a gold-buckled belt. Even her shoes were shined to perfection, the leather reflected the daylight behind you even though she didn’t step a single foot beyond the threshold.
“You must be Y/N.” The tall woman said plainly.
You instantly recognized the deadpan voice from over the phone, “Yes, that’s me, and you are?”
“Sevika.” A one-worded answer, the shorter the conversation the better it seemed. But you couldn’t help but ask one more thing.
“What do you do here, if you don’t mind me asking?”
“I am the head of security.” She delivered only what you asked, no more, no less.
“Well, it is a pleasure to meet you, Sevika. This is my friend, Sky, she is one of my teaching colleagues and she drove me here.”
“Pleasure.” The word didn’t match her still-stoic expression. Sevika then turned to you and said, “Someone will be along in a moment to assist you with your bags.” She turned on her heel and walked away, leaving the door open.
“I can manage -” you spoke too late, Sevika either didn’t hear you or didn’t care. Or both.
Sky looked at you and you looked back at her and shrugged. You studied the myriad of emotions dancing across your friend’s face before she opened her mouth to scoff, “What’s with the stick up her a-”
“Okay! That's enough,” you replied quickly, cutting her off just in case Sevika was secretly listening, “I’ll call you later, alright?”
“Alright,” she hugged you tightly, “tell me immediately if you need me to come get you, promise?”
“I promise.”
You watched Sky get back in her car and pull away, just as she almost disappeared from view with you waving, you heard someone, a man, clear their throat behind you.
The excitement that you’d be meeting the lord of the manor so soon left you as soon as it came on, as a bald-headed, thin, white man stood and gestured to your suitcases. “May I?” Was all he said in a gravelly voice.
“Yes please, thank you very much.” You allowed him to take your bags from you, save for your purse which was strapped to your body. The man held the door open for you, allowing you to step through the doors.
The first thing to hit you once you stepped inside was the cold, stale air. Like a mausoleum. The shiver that skittered up your back stopped halfway, giving way to the sudden sense of calm at the scents of oak, mahogany, and, you took a deep breath, leather.
The finest room you could ever dream would have come up short to the grand entryway surrounding you. The floor was made up of dark, polished wood cut in a herringbone pattern, darting back and forth towards the center of the room, which interrupted the pattern with a medallion inlay of a starburst. The gold in it glittered. A traditional brass chandelier glowed directly above the starburst, illuminating the room with a gentle, flickering candlelight cast from ivory candles of varying heights. Directly ahead was a wooden staircase, leading up to a mid-level, then splitting off towards the two upper wings of the mansion. A thick, deep red carpet ran the length of the stairs, and other carpets of varying dark colors lay around the floor, dressed with long-backed armchairs, settees, coffee and end tables, and stone sculptures.
The man closed the door roughly behind you, making you jump at the sudden sound. He beckoned silently with his white-gloved hand, and you followed him. Your casual shoes squeaked across the floor, then settled softly into the carpet as you ascended the stairs, going up and to the left. He led you down a wide hallway, lit dimly with yellow sconces. The navy blue carpet soaked up the light, and so did the dark mahogany trim on the walls. You squinted as you passed two, three, then four closed doors, pausing in front of the fifth door. The man turned the brass knob and it let out a small click. Just like at the front door, he gestured to have you go ahead.
You walked in and had to hold your breath so you didn’t scream with excitement. The Victorian-style bedroom was grand, to say the very least. A magnificently large four-poster bed lay in the middle of the back wall, covered in a thick, plush cream colored duvet crowded with a multitude of ornate decorative golden and sage green pillows of varying sizes. A large oak wood armoire stood politely off to the right side, with a matching vanity nearby. The set was complete with a wooden vanity chair tufted with a velveteen cushion which sat upon a fluffy circular rug. A personal sitting area was to your immediate left, containing two sage green armchairs with a pinstripe pattern and an oval shaped coffee table. A desk, grander than any desk you ever had at university, was backed against the wall and filled with writing utensils and numerous drawers for storage. Lastly, a great window was on the far left side of the room, the heavy forest-green curtains open wide and tied each with a golden sash. It cast a beautiful glow in the room, as it faced the western skies and let in plenty of afternoon light. A cushioned bench completed the window, topped with a single cylindrical pillow, perfect for an afternoon of writing, drawing, or anything.
You were in disbelief at first. “Is this where I’ll be staying?”
“Is it to your satisfaction?” He asked earnestly.
“Uh, yeah, it’s amazing!” You turned around to see him lay out your suitcases, starting to open them for you. “That’s okay, I can take care of those myself.”
He straightened, placed his gloved hands at his sides, gave a brief nod, and walked towards the door. He placed his hand on the handle and said, “If there is anything that you need, please let one of the staff know.” With that he closed the door, the handle clicking once more.
You couldn’t help yourself but flop down on the lavish bed, letting out a sigh at the feel of the comfortable blankets. You didn’t let yourself lay around too much, so you texted Sky:
𝗝𝘂𝘀𝘁 𝘀𝗲𝘁𝘁𝗹𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗶𝗻 𝗻𝗼𝘄! 𝗧𝗵𝗲 𝗿𝗼𝗼𝗺 𝗶𝘀 𝗮𝗺𝗮𝘇𝗶𝗻𝗴! 𝗣𝗹𝗲𝗮𝘀𝗲 𝗱𝗿𝗶𝘃𝗲 𝘀𝗮𝗳𝗲𝗹𝘆!
You rose from the bed, tossing your phone down on the comforter and walking over to your suitcases. You opened the large mahogany armoire and started putting away your clothes, relishing in the excitement flooding through you. Once you were finished hanging up your clothes, you went to work setting out your teaching supplies.
Your second of the two suitcases weighed so much you honestly couldn’t believe you had hauled it into Sky’s car on your own. You also could not believe that the frail-looking old dude had hoisted that and your clothing suitcase up the stairs with no effort. Maybe there’s a gym in this huge place and the guy is jacked underneath those long sleeves.
Unzipping the giant suitcase, you started to take stock of your inventory. You had brought with you numerous books, for academic purposes to assess the student’s reading level, history textbooks, and books to read for pleasure. You had packed binders stuffed with sheet music for piano, though you didn’t see one downstairs so you felt a little sheepish for assuming they’d have one. You brought sketchbooks and plenty of watercolors, charcoal, and colored pencils. You also had various crafting tools, odds and ends, bits and baubles. Miscellaneous items were always a favorite of yours, you never knew what you could turn into something useful. You laid it all out in a neat fashion on the coffee table and on the desk, mind eagerly playing over what you could start with tomorrow. The excitement of teaching and meeting your new student thrummed in your heart, giving you that bubbly feeling down in your toes. You stepped back, satisfied, brushing imaginary dust from your hands. With a hum to yourself you decided to take a self-guided tour of the rest of the mansion. With luck, you’d come across an art studio or a grand piano to utilize tomorrow. Or maybe the gym where the butler works out, you joked to yourself, snickering as you opened your door and started down the hall.
Walking with purpose, you checked each of the four doors back down the hallway you were in. Three of the four doors were, to your disgruntlement, locked. But the one closest to your room was open, a bathroom. You only peered in it briefly, noticing a door inside the bathroom that shared a wall with the room you were staying in. Makes sense. You briefly noted the black and white diamond-shaped tiled floor, simple toilet, claw-foot bathtub, and the ivory sink, complete with golden fixtures. Fresh towels were laid out in a lovely sage green color. The soap was a honeysuckle scent which matched the single unlit candle. The single yellow light above the sink lit the room nicely. After doing a quick once-over in the mirror, you continued down the rest of the hall until you reached the main landing.
Pausing, you considered your options, one, you could go down the stairs. Two, you could cross the landing and go towards the right side of the immense second floor. You chose the path of least resistance, in this case, the latter. Your footsteps were muffled by the carpeting lining the floor and you paused once again to look over your right shoulder. You observed the utter silence in the house below, the glow of the chandelier, the inside of the foyer that took your breath away not but an hour ago. Imagine greeting guests like this, like a king observing your peasants.
You didn’t hold the fantasy too long, as your curiosity got the best of you and pulled you by an invisible string down the hall. You tried two doors before the third one’s handle clicked and gave way. You hesitated, the feeling that you were intruding overcame you, but only for a moment, as you gently pushed the door open wide enough to peer your head in.
The room was a vast office. The far wall was covered in heavy, forest green velvet curtains pulled tightly together. You blinked as your eyes adjusted, stepping one foot in, the only light source at the desk. A small but effective bulb covered by a thick green shade. It cast a sickly glow on the back of a deep blood red upholstered office chair that faced away from you at the door, clearly empty. The desk was darker than the rest of the mahogany wood making up the bookshelves lining both walls of the room, and it had golden inlay detailing on it. There was an enormous black fur rug on the floor, made of a beast you couldn’t imagine could be anything other than what was once a bear. You stepped another foot inside, wondering what kinds of books lay collecting dust on the ceiling-height shelves. You reached for the nearest light to gain better visibility, pulling the first and then the second strands of the floor lamp resting in the corner.
Just as you did, you heard a shuffle, the moving of papers or something. You whirled around to see that tall-backed chair behind the desk swiveling around and the world seemed to move in slow motion.
The right side of the man’s side profile struck you through your chest, and you instantly recalled back to last night, the sight in front of you matching that photo that Sky had showed you. He stopped there, not letting you glimpse the rest of his face. A chill rushed up your spine as his visible right eye fixed itself on you. You were trapped in that blue-green lake, floating or drowning, you couldn’t yet tell. You let your eyes fall to his lips as he parted them to speak.
“By all means, come in uninvited.”
-
Part III
#silco x reader#silco/reader#silco imagine#silco x y/n#silco arcane#Arcane#arcane x reader#arcane x y/n#arcane x female reader#silco
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Silco never learned how to kiss with tongue. He just jams it in there like a freak. -simpfiles 💕
Send me a HC and I’ll write 5 sentences about it 💖
Cute one for my fav silco bully 😙💞
SFW, Silco being adorkable:
Silco slots his mouth against yours so hard his chipped tooth pinches your lip, his wet tongue slithering into your mouth and writhing around like some kind of drunk boa constrictor. You hold still and let whatever this is happen for a few long seconds but when the situation doesn’t improve you cup his face and pull him off of you.
“Not like…that,” you say gently as his brows knit together into an expression of adorable confusion. You card your fingers through his soft hair, then abruptly tighten them around his roots, yanking his head back so you can kiss your way up the curve of his neck. His jaw drops open with a tiny gasp and you take full advantage, murmuring against his lips, “Let me show you how it’s done.”
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for the requests - Silco x Lil fluff 👀
Thanks for the request Jasper! Here's some Young!Silco x Lil fluff for you! 💜
Tags: Drunk Silco, Fluff
Rain always chased people away. Nobody wanted to venture out, even if they were desperate for a drink. Which meant bad business for the Drop. She had served three people, one of which was Silco, who was currently sitting at the bar with his head resting on the scratched wooden surface of the bartop.
Lil had cut him off after his third drink, stating that he didn’t have enough body fat to hold anymore alcohol in his system. He had protested loudly for a few minutes, trying to persuade her to give him more every time she came near him. Eventually, he had given up and assumed his current position.
Lil sighed as she placed the last clean glass back on the shelf. Even if he was a skinny beanpole, he wasn’t exactly light. If she had to drag him back up to his room, she was going to have quite the task in front of her. She wiped her hands on her apron and walked over to where he was resting. She rapped her knuckles on the wooden surface beside his head, which earned her a pained groan.
“Rise and shine.”
A muffled grumble was the only response she got.
“Didn’t quite catch that, please repeat.”
Silco turned his head so the side was resting on the bartop rather than his forehead.
“I’m all shined out and I have no desire to rise,” he said.
“Are you planning on spending the night at the counter?”
Silco opened one teal eye to look at her.
“Will you be joining me?”
Lil snorted at his question, shaking her head.
“No thanks. I have a bed to get home to. But I need to clean up your puddle of drool first, which means you need to remove your face from it.”
Silco’s other eye opened and he scowled at her before lifting his head off the bartop. He ran his hand through his mop of dark hair as he moved his head around in an effort to work out the kink in his neck he had no doubt given himself by staying in that position for so long.
“Can you walk up to your room or do you need help?” Lil asked.
Silco gave her another scowl as he moved to stand from his seat. It deepened into a frustrated frown when his first attempt was not successful. After the third attempt, he let out an annoyed huff and looked at her again, this time with a pout.
“I may need assistance.”
Lil rolled her eyes and moved around to the other side of the bar to help him. Pulling one of his arms over her shoulder, she began walking him in the direction of the stairs. She had no idea how she was going to get him up the stairs by herself. Luckily, Silco seemed to have enough stability to help her, and they made it up with only a few stumbles.
Eventually, they made it to his doorway. Lil pushed the door open and guided him inside in the direction of his bed. When she tried to ease him away from her, he unceremoniously plopped down onto the soft surface, landing in a twisted position. Lil shuffled his long, gangly limbs and pulled at him until he was in a decent position to sleep off his drinks. As she looked down at him, she wondered if he would be alright if left alone.
“Do you think you can manage to not get sick if I leave you unattended for a little bit? I’m going down to finished closing everything up.”
Silco let out an unintelligible grunt.
“I’m going to take that as a yes,” Lil said before leaving the room and its occupant.
She headed back down to the bar and cleaned up the last of the small mess for the night. She made sure everything was locked up and turned off the lights before heading back up to Silco’s room. When she arrived, she placed a glass of water down on the table beside his bed and looked over at Silco.
He had turned over onto his stomach and was hugging his pillow tightly against him, a dopey smile on his lips. Lil figured he was going to be alright, but she wanted to stay with him, at least until Vander and Benzo returned from their run. She turned away from the bed to grab the rickety chair from the corner of Silco’s room, hoping to at least have a place to sit while she watched over him. A gentle touch at her wrist caused her to pause and turn back toward the bed.
“Silco? Are you okay?”
“Please stay…” he said quietly.
“Don’t worry, I’m not going anywhere. I just want to get the chair.”
The light grasp he had on her wrist tightened as he wrapped his fingers around it. He pulled on her hand until she was standing right up against the bed. Silco had turned onto his side and was looking up at her with a sleepy smile.
“Do you know how wonderful you are?” he asked, his words slurring together as he spoke. “Wonderful and beautiful and kind and beautiful…”
“You said beautiful twice.”
Silco blinked at her and his smile widened into a toothy grin. His chipped front teeth made the expression even more ridiculous.
“That’s because you are very beautiful!” he said, every word louder than the one before.
Lil pulled her wrist from his grasp and tucked his hand back onto the bed.
“And you are very drunk.”
“So? That doesn’t change anything.”
Lil laughed softly and leaned over him to pull the blanket up to cover his body.
“Drunk people think everyone is beautiful,” she said.
“Not Benzo. He’s still ugly,” Silco stated, firm in his opinion.
Lil smiled at him, which only made him grin again.
“I’ll be sure to let him know you think so,” she said as she moved to straighten up again.
Silco reached up and touched the side of her face, causing her to pause in her ascent. His grin had disappeared, replaced by a much softer expression. His glazed eyes roamed her face as his thumb passed over her cheek.
“I really mean it, Lil. You are beautiful.”
Neither of them moved for a few moments, their eyes never breaking contact as silence filled the room. Lil could feel her heart pounding in her chest, sure that Silco could hear it too. He had never said anything like that before, so she wasn’t sure if he was truly being honest or if it was just the alcohol talking.
She reached up and grabbed his hand, removing it from her face. She held it in her own for a few seconds before guiding it back to rest on the bed beside him. Having removed herself from his grasp, she was finally able to grab the chair she had been trying to get before, pulling it to the side of the bed and sitting down.
“Get some sleep, Silco. I’ll stay here until the guys come back.”
“Can I have a goodnight kiss?” he asked.
Lil raised an eyebrow in response to his question. He sure was being bold tonight. She leaned in and placed a soft kiss on his forehead, right between his eyebrows.
“Now, go to sleep.”
Silco’s dopey smile returned and he closed his eyes, burying his face into the pillow once more. Lil could feel her own lips lifting into a smile as she watched his breaths even out, indicating he had finally fallen asleep. She wasn’t sure if he would remember this when he woke up the next morning, but she would never forget the tenderness in his eyes when he called her beautiful.
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‘I love him’ (One-shot):
Silco x gn!reader - SFW
CW: drunk!reader, fluff, confessions, self-doubt/low self-esteem, swears, established relationship, soft silco my beloved, silco POV
1.8k words
Summary: Silco can’t quite believe his eyes when you stumble into his office at the end of the evening, drunk out of your mind. But as he worriedly helps you get into bed, it’s your drunken confession that truly astounds the disconcerted kingpin.
A/N: anyone else in need of some silco fluff with an extra dose of softness?? -elsie x
-
Of all the ways Silco had expected the evening to end, you stumbling into his office in the drunkest state he’d ever seen you in, would not have been his first guess. Or his second. Or third. Or even fourth, considering you’d told him you were going down to the club to double-check the stockroom matched the inventory list, filled out by the bar staff the night before.
Evidently, you had gotten side-tracked, (or perhaps indulged in most of said stock, he mused), as you pushed open the door to his office two hours later, putting far too much of your weight onto it and nearly tripping yourself up in the process.
You looked an absolute mess. Your hair was tussled, your eyes were bloodshot, and your jaw lay slack as you gazed blankly at the large, ornate window behind his desk.
Silco thinks he’s in shock. In fact, he’s so astonished at the spectacle before him that for the first time in years, he can’t produce a single word in response to the situation. Instead, his eyes widen in disbelief as he watches you stumble your way towards him, your head lulling as you try not to trip over the edges of the rug.
His pen and paperwork now entirely forgotten, Silco quickly pushes himself to stand as you unsteadily approach the desk, ready to rush to your side if you were to fall. But instead, you by-pass his desk entirely and make your way towards the door to your shared bedroom, wobbling the whole of the (admittedly short) journey.
What?
Okay, now Silco is confused. His mismatched eyes follow you in disbelief as you shuffle away from him and into the bedroom. And it was only as your unstable form disappeared into the darkness of the room, that he realised you hadn’t even looked at him once since entering his office.
Silco frowns. Were you mad at him? He hopes not. He doesn’t think he could handle you being upset with him, even if he was certain he hadn’t done anything wrong (well, to you, that is).
You’d only been dating for just short of a year, but Silco knew without a shadow of a doubt that he absolutely adored you. You were sweet, kind, and infinitely understanding, but also passionate, and willing to fight for what you believed was right. Everything he’d been missing in his life.
He is pretty sure he’d do anything for you at this point. And honestly, it terrified him.
At the sound of the wardrobe door being slammed open, and a grumbled curse following shortly after, Silco rushes into the room to find you miserably failing to wrestle your shirt off of your torso.
“Darling?” he asks quietly.
You put one finger up to your lips, swaying unsteadily on your feet as you whisper in his general direction.
“Shhhhhh, Silco is working and I don’t want to disturb him.”
Oh. So that’s why you hadn’t looked or spoken to him on your way through his office. You weren’t mad at him; you were so drunk you thought he hadn’t seen you.
Part of him is quietly amused at your disorderly conduct, but the other part of him is really quite concerned. You’d never got yourself in such a state that you could barely make out your surroundings. Frankly, Silco is relieved you managed to get yourself up to his office in one piece.
“Here, let me help you,” he says, moving swiftly across the room to where you were clutching onto the wardrobe door.
He helps you pull a large, comfy shirt over your head and sighs deeply when you get trapped in it. Is this what it was like when he got drunk?
No. Not only could he hold his liquor better than you, there was no way he’d require this level of babysitting. And even if he did, he’d fervently deny it the next morning.
Pyjamas on, Silco decides to do some detective work as he leads you over to the bed. He gently holds your body close as you walk and to his quiet delight, you automatically lean into the motion, like you were inexplicably drawn to him.
“Why are you so intoxicated, my lovely? I thought you were supposed to be doing an inventory check,” Silco asks.
“I was, but I bumped into Sevika…and she convinced me to, uh… to take a shot everytime she got a woman to sit on her lap,” you grind out. It’s slow and slurred and takes a bit of effort to understand.
Silco rolls his eyes. Of course this was Sevika’s doing.
“And how many did she… manage to convince?”
“Uh… I lost count.”
He exhales through his nose sharply, owing to his steadily growing exasperation.
Silco manages to pull back the covers and help you into bed, but not before you gracelessly smack your head into his shoulder. Ouch. If it had hurt you as much as it hurt him, you don’t seem to notice.
“I think she must have paid some of them, nobody can be that attractive,” you mumble, mostly to yourself, as you slump down onto the bed, laying on your side.
‘You are’ Silco thinks automatically, but thankfully holds it back before he can voice it outloud. Truthfully, he doesn’t like you being in the bar during opening hours because he’s worried that you’ll catch the wrong person’s attention. Or worse, (and it's this thought he always squashes down the instant it pops into his head), they’ll catch yours.
Silco makes a mental note to reprimand Sevika later for leaving you by yourself in such a state, but for now, he’s preoccupied with making sure you’re safe and sound in your shared bed.
Finally under the covers, Silco feels content enough to leave your side just long enough to fetch you a glass of water from the adjoining bathroom, and a bucket to place at the side of the bed. Despite the mountain of work he knows he should be doing, Silco has already resigned himself to the fact that he’ll be watching over you for most of the night. He doesn’t really mind.
When he returns to you a few minutes later, you’re quietly mumbling to yourself.
“...just wish…. so goddamn… deserves a break… gorgeous little…”
It’s really rather endearing. Silco can’t help but smile as he gazes down at the sight of you, his sweetheart, all soft and sleepy in his bed.
He sits down beside you and reaches out to gently smooth your hair down from its unruly condition.
“Get some sleep, my love,” Silco croons, openly admiring your flushed face, as his thumb trails lightly across your cheekbone.
And it’s as he’s pulling the covers to fit more snugly over your shoulders that you mumble something that makes his blood run cold.
“I love him.”
Silco’s face drops.
What did you just say?
He’s lost for words yet again. It’s almost scary how easily you can halt him in his tracks. Silco had never struggled to know what to say in a tricky situation, that is, of course, until he’d met you.
Despite him not saying anything in response to your statement, you continue on as if he had.
“You don’t understand, I really love him,” you emphasise, your voice thick with a mixture of sleep and liquor.
Silco is really frowning now. Who the hell were you talking about? It ignites a rage within him. A terrible, ugly, green monster that is threatening to burst out at any moment. He doesn’t think he can handle the thought of you loving someone else. It would irrevocably break his already fragile heart. Even thinking that your love could be held by another makes him irrationally grief-stricken.
His face and voice hardens as he quietly demands his next question.
“Who?”
Your response is so quick and certain, it could only be the gods’ honest truth.
“Silco.”
He feels like he’s just been shocked. Electrocuted. Eliminated. His pupils widen in pure amazement.
This was the first time either of you had ever used that word before. Silco can’t quite remember the last time someone had used it in reference to him.
But he’d be damned if it didn’t feel right.
The feeling that is rapidly flooding his chest is entirely foreign to him. Entirely too much and yet surprisingly not enough at the very same time.
“Really?” he asks, his voice low and almost embarrassingly full of hope.
“Yeah, I mean, have you seen him? He’s absolutely fucking adorable,” you begin to ramble, “I know everyone thinks he’s this super scary villain guy, but he’s so sweet and protective and so goddamn hot.”
A blush settles across Silco’s cheeks and ears.
As he’s still processing your many, many words, you pull your hand from under the warmth of the covers and reach out towards him. Unfortunately, you’re still not really able to focus on anything properly, so Silco has to grab your hand, just in time to stop you from accidentally smacking him in the face.
“You have to promise me you won’t tell him though, he’ll get all huffy about it,” you say emphatically.
Huffy? … Huffy??
What are you talking about? He’s always perfectly lovely, and never huffy, he thinks with a hint of offence. Honestly, the cheek.
Silco raises an eyebrow.
“Will he now?”
“Yeah, and I don’t want to ruin everything with him, you know? He means the world to me.”
Silco doesn’t know how to respond (yet again), so he favours tracing the outline of your delicate features with his eyes. He’d be lying if he said he was disappointed that this was the way he’d found out you loved him, because he honestly never expected you to say it in the first place.
After everything that had happened, Silco had resigned himself to the fact that he was unlovable many years ago. And he certainly didn’t feel like he deserved your love. Your unending, ethereal love.
But maybe it was enough to heal his cold, broken heart.
You finish your impassioned speech while Silco carefully puts your hand back under the covers.
“I know we haven’t been dating that long, but gods, I fucking love him.”
He stares down at you in pure disbelief, only broken out of his reverie when your eyelids finally stop fluttering as they close fully. You’re exhausted.
Silco strokes your hair, as if you were the most precious thing in the world, and leans over you.
A quiet, questioning breath of your name dances across your cheek.
“Mhmm?” you vocalise so reticently, he almost misses it.
“He loves you too,” Silco tells you quietly, in the softest voice he’s ever spoken in.
Then, he kisses your forehead before sitting back up to watch you slowly drift into a peaceful sleep.
Silco knows that when you wake, you’ll have an interesting conversation ahead of you, depending on just how much you remember from the night before.
But for now, he’s more than comfortable just basking in the knowledge that you love him and he desperately loves you, because you’re by far the best thing that has ever happened to him. And he wouldn’t trade you for the world.
-
A/N:
reader: i love him
Silco: *gasp* they loooove me so, that funny honey of miiiine
#silco#silco x reader#silco x you#silco x gn!reader#silco x f!reader#silco x m!reader#silco fic#silco arcane#one shot
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Main Masterlist (as of 07/20/2022)
Per an anon ask, I have best compiled all of the inbox request and or prompts I have received from over a while. Hence all the updated hyper links and lists of fandoms down below. I will also post this on my main pinned post as well.
Edit (7/20/2022): so apparently there’s a link limit, so I’ll make a second composite masterlist to add on some remaining ones from my blog. As of now, here’s what is compiled so far. 💕
Ao3
Ao3 link above👆is a Hodgepodge of other fics, drabbles, fan weeks, fandoms and series/WIP’s
Kinktober 2022
LINK TBA
Final Fantasy - Sephiroth
Critical Role
Vox Machina - don’t you break my heart // the princess // dating hc’s // swan princess // baby VM // baby VM2 // falling // soft Percy // baby VM girl // first steps // guardian Vax // gods and glory // baby VM angst // poly vaxleth // angry hc’s // mirajane reader // love potion // shy with kisses // cool but fierce // bonded for life // holding hands // Snow White sleep // Percy romance // sweet scanlan // “arranged marriage”angst // under pressure // magic tattoos // Mother’s Day // powerful witch // Percy soulmate // tragic past //
The Mighty Nein - crush hugs with VM // angst // Caleb writing prompt //
Bell’s Hells and Crown Keepers - nicknames with VM // kissing prompts with Percy //
EXU: Calamity - loquacious HC’s // leaving Avalir angst //
Genshin Impact - red panda // love goddess
Arcane and League of Legends - I wrote and write for Viego // Viktor, Jayce, and Silco
Love Languages
Assassin’s Creed - Arno // Ezio // feat multifandom // multifan tea hc’s //
Pirates of the Caribbean - James Norrington
Marvel/DC - I have drabbles and stories for Loki, Jotun Loki, Thor: Love and Thunder (WIP), Aquaman, Superman, and The Batman (Battinson) and many more on my Ao3
nightcrawler
Monster Fics - These are either centric to my OC (Hazel) or are Reader-centric
Curtain call
Star Wars - There’s also some Darth Maul, Boba Fett, and Mandolorian stuff on my ao3 well
Castlevania - artsy love // beach day with CR // multi boys love hc’s // shy kiss // music hc’s // holding hands // I forgot a kiss with CR // wolfwalker HC’s // parent headcanons // linking pinkies // painful past //
Alucard - hit for Alucard // bath hc’s // dragon love // dragon love 2 // lounging love // hesitant, shy reader // cowboy alucard // sequel spin-off // prompt 50 kiss // prompt 8 kiss // hollow knight // prompt 38 i love you // prompt 39, 17 kiss // caring for sick // magician love // expressive love // wearing his coat // affectionate one //
Isaac, Hector - family HC’s (with trev and Al) // Disney princess w/ Trio and VM // hector 16 prompt kiss //
Trevor, Sypha - artsy love
Greta - artsy love // poly with OT3 // poly with Alucard
Dracula - taking a hit w+ Trevor, Hector and Isaac // multi boys love hc’s // shy kiss // Lisa apprentice //
Dragon Age - Wolfwalkers
Hellboy/Hellboy II
Baldur’s Gate - Astarion
The Witcher - Geralt
Blood of Zeus
bikini beach // drunk with CV // seraphim smut and angst
Stranger Things
Eddie Munson - blackbird /// i need a hero
Steve and Eddie poly smut
#critical role#dragon age#pirates of the caribbean#stranger things#writing masterlist#writing masterpost#tlovm#vox machina#boz#blood of zeus#castlevania#baldur's gate 3#the witcher#fanfic#writeblr#hellboy#hellboy ii: the golden army#exophilia#long post#the arcana#marvel#Star Wars#dc#multi fandom#assassin’s creed#genshin impact#arcane league of legends#final fantasy#smut
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Smokestacks
YA!Silco/f!oc | smoking | drunkeness | surprise kiss | inhuman bodyparts
Teen Silco & Gill sitting on a roof, Silco is blitzed. This is their first open conversation since Gill joined the children of Zaun.
Silco takes a drag from his cigarette, he mulls over all Gill's weird behavior, in his drunken state he gets stuck on her name.
"Why the name Gill." he says into the air more than to her, voice thick with alcohol.
Gill shifts & considers something before replying "... because I have gills."
Silco lets out a small hum.
"Can I see?" He thinks she's joking but the booze just wants to see her bare neck, she's always so covered up.
Gill turns to look down at the reclining man, her expression conflicted between flustered & scared.
"D'you promise not to call me a freak & push me off the roof?"
Silco snorts incredulously but when he looks up to see her expression is more scared now. "Never." he quickly reassures, with no room for doubt, almost sober sounding.
Gill quietly moves closer, leaning over & shifting her collar down. Silco's eyes cling to her steadily revealing skin.
Silco slowly sits up as soon as he sees the opalescent lines across her neck, they look initially like scars.
A hand half out, cigarette hanging from his lips.
He realises time is passing when Gill swallows nervously, eyes flicking to her bobbing throat then up to her face. Her eyebrows pinched as if expecting a blow. He chews his cigarette berating himself.
"May I?" he mutters out, earnestly holding her gaze as he flexes his fingers that are still held between them.
Gill winces in confusion but nods, as soon as his fingers graze her neck she averts her eyes.
"They functional?"
"...yeah"
He lightly runs a thumb across one gill, noticing how the collapsed frill is stiff & concertinaed, but still gives somewhat under his touch, revealing pink skin underneath.
He swallows absentmindedly.
Again forgetting time passes for other people.
"...I can show you a trick, if you like?" her voice surprises Silco, he looks back to her eyes, Gill is smiling nervously but still facing away.
"By all means." Silco manages not to stumble over these simple words.
Gill takes the cigarette from Silco's mouth & takes a slow draw, eyes flicking back to him as she holds her breath.
As she exhales it's not through her mouth or nose but the gills relax & the smoke files out of all four slits.
Her eyes half closed, she looks almost relaxed.
"Doesn't it burn?"
She chuckles out the last of the now fresh smelling smoke "I can filter toxins into clean air with these, a cigarette doesn't even tickle."
Silco takes the cigarette back carefully & imagines it tastes sweeter now. He takes another drag as the pieces click together.
"Good." he says with all the soft awe in the world.
Another long period of silence as Silco returns to his thoughts, alcohol flooding back into his system.
Gill begins to shrink back. "Rethinking the roof thing?"
"The opposite in fact." Silco draws deep.
Before she can ask Silco pulls her in & connects their lips, blowing smoke inside her mouth as he kisses her.
Smoke billowing around them from her neck Gill's face boils.
"I don't plan to let you go at all." his smile breaks their impromptu kiss.
In the next moment when Gill catches her breath, Silco's eyes wander across her. She thinks he's about to explain himself until he just slumps over.
Panic
Panic. All colour drains from her face. She's poisoned him, all those times hearing what undercity folk say about her kind, maybe it's true, maybe she's coated in poison.
Silco's peaceful snores break the silence, his pulse is steady, no fever.
Gill exhales through her gritted teeth.
Where's Benzo.
#canon x oc#silco x oc#Silco x female oc#young silco#Is this drabble??#Arcane#Silco arcane#Arcane oc#'Gill' Gwillian the last gasp
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