#Silco fic

[juniper-sunny]

The Art in the Heart* - Chapter 22 (End)

Silco is about to give you everything you've ever wanted...

Happy Ending AU | Silco x Reader | Young!Silco | F!Reader | No [Y/N] | Slow Burn | Romance | Smut | Fluff | Angst | Hurt/Comfort | Fix-It || NSFW | P in V Sex, Breeding Kink | WC: 4.02k

beta reader: @silcoitus <3!

ao3 || Masterlist || Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10 | Chapter 11 | Chapter 12 | Chapter 13 | Chapter 14 || Chapter 15 | Chapter 16 | Chapter 17 | Chapter 18 | Chapter 19 | Chapter 20 | Chapter 21

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Several Years Later

Powder and her friend Ekko always insist that they don’t need to be escorted to Piltover. They’re teenagers now, old enough to navigate the Undercity on their own, both smart and strong enough to take care of themselves. It doesn’t hurt that they’ve become great fighters under Vi’s tutelage, and Vi herself would bring hell down on anyone who tried to hurt her loved ones. But you still don’t like the idea of them walking alone through the Lanes, even if the Undercity has become a much safer place. You override their protests with the simple fact that they’ll be safer with adult chaperones.

Especially if one of them is the newly minted Councilor of the Undercity.

Your partner, Silco.

The teenagers wave goodbye to you and Silco as they dash into Midtown Piltover, expertly dodging disgruntled passerby in their rush to get to class. Powder’s bright blue hair stands out defiantly against the darker, more somber cobalt rooftops of Topside, a promise to her former oppressors that her spirit will never be broken by them. Your heart aches with nostalgia as you sigh, your hand rising unconsciously to your chest to rub your sternum. Vividly remembering when they were still small enough to climb up your legs like monkeys, asking for candy with wide eyes and innocent grins. 

Silco turns to look at you with a soft smile, eyes crinkling in amusement. “Need I remind you we’re having dinner with them tonight?”

“I know,” you sigh heavily. “They just grow up so fast, you know?”

He nods in understanding as he offers you his elbow. You slip your hand around it as he leads you towards Piltover Bridge. Out of the corner of your eye, you admire his striking, carved profile against the clear skies. His hair is still long on the top of his head, combed back in a neat crest that he styles with gel every morning. You miss his old hairstyle sometimes, but his undercut is so dashing. It’s fun to rub him behind his ears, as you enjoy the fuzziness of his hair shorn close to his skin. Gray has seeped into the hair around his temples, along with a wide, dandy streak above his left eye. Age and stress have begun etching long lines in his face, but they only make him more handsome and distinguished than ever. 

“Shall we pay them a visit at the Academy?” he asks. 

“No, it’s fine. I asked Viktor to meet up with them at lunch. He’ll look out for them,” you say, more as a reminder to yourself than to Silco. 

You don’t talk about how worried you are for the teenagers; the coursework will be easy for them, but you hope they won’t be bullied at the Academy. Even though Piltover has officially recognized the Undercity as an independent nation, Topside’s bigotry towards Zaun still persists. It’s not going to disappear in your generation, or Powder’s, or maybe even the generation after. New policies have been implemented to make education more accessible to Zaunite youth, but the Academy’s gates might as well be shark’s jaws, considering how Powder and Ekko will be rubbing shoulders with Piltover’s most sheltered and narrow-minded. There’s only so much protection that anti-bullying rules can offer. 

“They’re strong. They’re more than capable of holding their own,” Silco reassures you, as if he could read your mind. “The Topsiders should be grateful to count Powder and Ekko among their peers.”

He comes to a stop in the middle of the bridge, and you let go of him as he leans on the railing. His gaze towards the Undercity is serene, a gentle smile still lingering on his face. In his youth, his passion for the Nation of Zaun roared like a fiery inferno. Now, over a decade later, he nurtures it like a lit hearth, with careful and persistent attention so it doesn’t burn out when there’s still so much work to do. 

“I know their parents have thanked you already but… thank you, Silco,” you tell him. You fold your arms as you lean on the railing, the metal cool and smooth against your elbows. “Powder and Ekko wouldn’t have gotten in without your help.”

“It was a simple matter of opportunity. I merely opened the doors; it was the children who walked through them,” he says. “The Topsiders have denied us for too long. It’s about time we seized it all for ourselves.” 

His grip tightens around the railing, the leather of his gloves stretching around his knuckles. Even though Piltover is finally being held accountable for their mistreatment of the Undercity, you doubt that Silco’s anger will ever fade away. He’s certainly not going to forgive them just because they gave him a seat at the table. You can’t imagine how hard it must have been for him these past few months as a Councilor, holding his temper around his colleagues as they flaunted their so-called generosity. If you were in his shoes, you would probably shout at the other Councilors every day.   

Just as you brace yourself for another monologue, Silco abruptly lets go of the handrail and extends his hand out to you. 

“It’s too beautiful a day to speak anymore of Topside,” he says airily, his smile widening. It never fails to warm your heart even after all these years together. “I made reservations for lunch. I hope you don’t mind.” 

“Oh! Great,” you say, pleasantly surprised. You take his hand, squeezing it as you resume your stroll into the Undercity. “You’ll have to let me treat you next time.”

“Whatever on earth for?” he asks, curious. 

“Are you kidding me?” You come to a halt, sweeping your hand at the streets before you. 

Silco tilts his head quizzically at you as you savor the weather. Just a few years ago, the fissure folk were still choking on smog and vapors, forced to go aboveground if they wanted to enjoy the fresh air and sunshine. But today is a beautiful spring day, not too cool and not too warm, a gentle breeze tickling the hem of your skirt and rolling through the scattered clouds and the baby-blue sky. You can’t help but feel a swell of pride when you spot a small garden filled with delicate, yellow flowers, its large petals reaching for the sky; it’s a special hybrid cultivated by young Zaunite scientists that feeds off the fissure gasses. Combined with Silco’s stricter anti-pollution regulations, these efforts have immensely improved living conditions in the underground. 

And the passerby are happy—smiling freely at each other; walking at a slow, relaxed pace; and calling out enthusiastically to their Councilor, greeting him as an old friend. Rowdy children run through the streets, shrieking mischievously, the first generation to have the privilege of growing up in an independent Undercity. 

“If it weren’t for you and the rest of the Children, we’d still be living like gutter rats. We get to live in the Nation of Zaun now. That’s because of your dream—your vision,” you point out.  

“And yet, I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t have you,” Silco says smoothly without dropping a beat. “None of this would have come to pass without your aid.” 

“I didn’t do anything!” you protest.

“Few others could match your dedication to the cause. If there were more like you, the underground would have seized independence a long time ago.” 

“That’s not true—”

“The Nation of Zaun needed the whole of the underground to unite as one. You took on more than your fair share of the labor.” He steps closer to you, his arms sliding around your waist. Your hands automatically rise to his chest, your fingers tracing the sharp point of his wide collar. 

“...Maybe,” you concede, not because he’s right, but because you don’t feel like arguing with him. Especially when he’s holding you in his arms. 

“It’s true, my lovely,” he says warmly. He plants a soft kiss on your forehead. 

You stand on tiptoe to peck his cheek before pulling away. He continues smiling at you as you take his hand again. 

“So you won’t mind if I pick dessert, then? Since I’ve done so much for the Nation of Zaun,” you say cheerfully. 

“Of course.” 

“Where’d you make reservations, anyway?” 

“They won’t be expecting us for another hour,” he says. “I thought we could visit the mural in the meantime; I’m rather nostalgic for it.”

“Sure!” You slip your hand around his elbow again, squeezing it affectionately as you both walk off. 

It’s a short, leisurely stroll to the mural. You try to make casual conversation with Silco, but you’re frequently interrupted by fellow Zaunites who greet him as they pass by. In his short tenure as Councilor, your partner has developed an automatic reflex for greeting his constituents politely; paired with his impeccable memory for names and faces, he has no problem stopping to make small talk with them. You chime in whenever you can, conscientious of your role as his long-term partner. You’re determined to show your fellow trenchers that you care about them too. 

After countless stops and starts, you finally arrive at the mural. Silco comes to an abrupt halt, his eyes darting from window to window. You watch him curiously as he cranes his neck to scrutinize the other buildings instead of the artwork. Your hand is pressed tightly against his body as his arm tenses underneath his sleeve. 

“Good afternoon, milady,” you address the mural with excessive pompousness, a deliberately poor imitation of Piltie gentry. You step away from Silco to bow exaggeratedly at your painting. “I do believe an expression of gratitude is in order for your services rendered.”

Silco’s gaze snaps towards you as he raises a bemused eyebrow.

“We never would’ve met if it weren’t for her,” you laugh, speaking normally now. “If she were a real person, I’d owe her everything.”

“What a curious sentiment,” Silco muses. “And yet I can’t bring myself to disagree with it.”

You blow a cheeky kiss at the painted woman. If you didn’t know any better, you could believe that she’s winking back at you, given the low angle you’re viewing her from. The mural has received several refresher coats of paint in the past few years, but the memory still feels more vibrant than its physical presence in front of you. 

Before you can lose yourself in nostalgia, you turn to Silco. You had hoped that your joke would gently bring him back to earth and remind him that you’re his partner, always ready to listen to him whenever he needs to talk. It seems to have done the trick, as he stares unblinkingly at you now and clears his throat. 

“I’d like to visit our rooftop, if you’re amenable,” he says casually, but your eyes are drawn to the twitch in his jaw as he bites his cheek. He extends his hand out to you again, his eyes boring into you with quiet determination. “I have something I’d like to show you.” 

You can’t help but smile at the phrase “our rooftop”. Neither of you own real estate in the area, but it still feels right to claim the spot as yours and Silco’s. “Only if you tell me what’s on your mind.”

“I will,” he promises. He steps closer to you now, hand still reaching for you in earnest. 

The leather of his glove is warm as you take his hand. Silco leads you to a nearby fire escape, the ladder already lowered to the ground. He ascends first and waits patiently for you to follow. When he offers you his hand again, you take it, squeezing it reassuringly as he leads you up the stairs in silence. 

After climbing the ledge, you can’t help but turn away from Silco to appreciate the vista, as it’s more beautiful than you remember: Topside in the distance, all pointed marble and gold, matching the bright sun and puffy clouds. The sky and river divided by a long, elegant bridge of polished steel. Zaun’s colorful rooftops look so small from this height, a scattering of rainbow confetti on the ground. 

You’ve wished for Zaun to become free and independent your whole life. A decade ago, that hope felt like a delusion, a drunken wish made by insane trenchers who spent too much time with their heads in the clouds when they should have been looking at the ground. Now, looking out at the two cities, you’re filled with a wordless, irrepressible joy. It’s hard to believe you’ve lived long enough to see your dream come true.  

A deep inhale fills your lungs with fresh air. Reinvigorated, you spin around to tell Silco you wish you had your camera with you.

Only to find him down on one knee. 

Holding open a small, black box with a ring inside. 

“Silco??” you squeak out, shocked. 

He looks up at you with an earnest but nervous smile, his lips pressed together in a thin line. Adoration shines in his eyes as he clears his throat.

“Before we met, I believed I had to dedicate the whole of my being to the Nation of Zaun,” he says slowly. “For the Undercity to flourish, I would have given everything, including my life. And then I fell in love with you. 

“At first, I was afraid I could not devote myself to you. There was too much work to be done. And then the most curious thing happened.” He swallows hard, his tongue darting out to wet his lips. The tips of his fingers turn white as his grip on the box tightens. 

You’ve never seen Silco this anxious before, even during his many presentations to the Council in their dark, intimidating chambers where they held the very fate of the Undercity in their hands. And somehow, despite being the one standing over him, you feel so small and overwhelmed, pinned by his gaze and hypnotized by his speech. Breathing no longer comes consciously to you, and forcing yourself to take in air almost distracts you from his words.

“You understood me. You have never, ever made me choose between you and the underground. On too many occasions, you put the Undercity’s needs above your own. I suppose, in that sense, we are very much the same,” he adds with a thoughtful chuckle. “No one could blame you if you wanted more for yourself. To find another who would have you—and only you—in their heart. And yet…”

The soft, hopeful smile on his face is full of anticipation. 

You find your body moving on its own, feet carrying you forward to stand in front of him. Just like all those years ago when you felt compelled to approach this very same rooftop, to speak to the man now kneeling down in front of you. 

“I cannot begin to describe how much I need you by my side, for as long as you’ll have me,” Silco continues. “As my one and only, my lovely… my wife.

“Will you marry me?”

“Yes!!” you squeal excitedly.

You grab the oversized collar of Silco’s coat, bringing him crashing into your lips as he awkwardly stumbles to his feet. He gasps out your name in between kisses and laughter, careful to hold onto the box even as his free arm winds around your waist. 

You reluctantly step back to take a good look at the ring. It’s a thin band of pale gold with a cool silver undertone, forged in the Zaunite tradition of melting together scrap metal and gold coins, a symbolic vow of everlasting love persisting through times of poverty and wealth. As Silco picks it up gingerly, it gleams in the sun, a promise of a bright future with him as he slides it onto your finger. The ring is cool and smooth against your skin, a perfect fit as you admire it delightfully. Most Topsiders would scoff at how plain the ring is, but to you, it’s the most beautiful piece of jewelry in Runeterra.

In all respects that matter, nothing has changed in your relationship with Silco. The two of you made a tacit agreement that you were committed to each other for the rest of your lives, proven over and over again throughout years of bliss and strife. That you would stay by each other's side through everything, as surely as the Undercity sleeps underneath Piltover's shadow. You’ve lost track of the countless times you declared your love for him, and vice versa; trying to determine the exact number would be harder than convincing the Council to grant Zaun a seat at their table. And yet the thrill of the promise exhilarates you like nothing else. 

Your heart soars above the clouds as you pull Silco into another kiss, the pulse point on his throat drumming away under your fingertips as you stroke his neck. His hand drags against your leg, fingers curling into claws as he pulls up your skirt. Fabric bunches between his fingers as he slots his thigh between your legs. You melt into him as he moves to kiss your cheek. 

“A thousand times I’ve imagined this moment…” Silco pants, breath already ragged with need. “I’ve wanted to fuck you on this rooftop for years now.” 

So overcome with a desperate, aching want, your hands move on their own, reaching to unbutton his pants. It’s all the approval he needs to hike your skirt up to your waist, revealing your already soaking wet panties underneath. In a blur of flying fingers, your cunt is bared and Silco’s cock is freed. He lands heavily on the ground, swiftly tucking your underwear in his coat pocket as he crosses his legs. You grab the broad shelf of his shoulders as he reaches out for you, his hands holding your elbows to guide you. His eyes gleam with excitement as you lower yourself onto his already erect cock. 

If you were any less wet and ready, the stretch of your walls might have been too much. As it is, you sink onto him easily, your groans harmonizing with Silco’s as you settle in his lap. The pleasure-pain of being split open by him is a thrill you savor every single time you make love, and today, it’s more exciting than ever. He hugs you tight as you tuck your legs around his waist, his hand sweeping up and down your back before he takes hold of your hips. Your hearts beat madly against each other, yearning to be even closer.  

You are so, so warm, full of love and sunlight and happiness. A hearth flickering in your core as Silco finally begins to rock slowly into you. Your walls flutter around him as you try to catch your breath. 

“C-Careful—Councilor,” you gasp, trying to tease him even as air is knocked out of you with every one of Silco’s driving thrusts. “The Council will strip you o-of your seat—if they ever find out how bad you are.” 

“They can all burn,” he grunts, voice thick with desire. His grip digs into you, the sharp cut of his fingernails blunted by your skirt. “I have no need—for anything else—that would distract me from my new purpose in life.” 

“And w–what’s that—?” you stutter before he kisses you, his tongue filling your mouth, another delirious spike of heat flaring as he seeks to fill you completely.

“I would build a house for us—as luxurious as you deserve.” He pulls you down onto him, his hands pressing against the bones of your hips. You yelp as his cock hits deeper inside you, sparks dancing in your eyes as your head is thrown back. Pleasure burning even higher as he bites down on your exposed throat. Silco hums in delight as he sucks, overjoyed at leaving his mark on you. 

“There will be many rooms—as many as we need—for our children—” Silco rambles. “You will spread your legs for me and I will fill you every day—endlessly—you will take every last drop until you are overflowing—as many times as it takes—”

“You sound like—you’re going to be a busy man.” You grin against Silco’s cheek, excited at the prospect of being bred by him. He abruptly sinks his teeth into your shoulder, a sharp bite coinciding with a particularly brutal lunge into you. Yelping, you cling to him for dear life as his movements ramp up in ferocity. It’s all you can do as you’re bounced on his cock, a band straining tight in your abdomen, so taut that you almost choke. Struggling to keep your eyes open, so intoxicated on the bliss that Silco inflicts on you, your hands scrambling for purchase on his chest. Crumpling the edges of his collar in your fists as you shove your face in the crook of his neck, smothering your mewls.

“How could I not be? When your cunt feels this exquisite,” he purrs. He slips one hand between your bodies, rubbing your clit with a furious speed that has your walls clenching around his cock. A pure, concentrated flare that he stokes expertly with his fingertips, you whine as it burns hot, almost too hot for you to endure. He presses his knife blade of a nose to your cheekbone, warm breath billowing against your skin as he pours praise into your ear, “So wet and tight—always ready for me—your body is such a gift, my lovely—it’s only right that I cherish it until you bear the proof of my appreciation.” 

His lips land on yours again, depriving you of your response as he kisses you harshly. Breaking off to growl, “It would be my duty to bring you to ruin—to show the world that you are mine and mine alone—my lovely, my heart, my wife—” 

Silco punctuates the last word with his deepest thrust yet, finally igniting your orgasm. Waves of rapture rolling over you endlessly, somehow burning and drowning you simultaneously in an all-consuming tempest. Feeling more than hearing your wails tear themselves from your throat. 

All you can see and feel is Silco, his hands on your body and his cock moving inside you, bringing you to ruin just as he promised.

You hang onto him with what little strength you have left, focusing on clenching your walls while he continues fucking you, until one last slam into your pussy has him cumming, pumping hot and hard deep inside you. Elongating your ecstasy as surely as the fluttering of your walls prolongs his. You scream again as his hands brand themselves onto your hips and bud, grounding points of touch that anchor you. One last groan rumbling out of his chest and into yours as he buries his face in your shoulder, his lap soaking in your combined releases. 

Silco pants hard, his long, shuddering breaths ghosting against your nape. When he rasps out your name, it sounds low and reverential, a prayer to his goddess. “I love you.” 

“I love you too, Silco,” you whisper weakly. You slump into the crook of his neck, enjoying the heady scent of his body and cologne mingling with his sweat. Your head is heavy when you pull back to look him in the eyes. 

His beautiful, ocean eyes. 

Heavy-lidded and hazy, but still locked onto you. Gaze boring deeply into you. Seeing into your soul like no one else ever has. 

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs, worry creeping into the edges of his voice. He swallows thickly before continuing, “I know it’s been some time since we last discussed having children. If that is something you no longer desire—”

“Silco… it’s okay.” You raise a trembling hand to stroke his cheek, and he leans into it, pressing his lips into your palm. He turns to kiss you again, sweet and loving, much gentler than his earlier claim on your body. Your heart trembles with joy as you say softly, “That kind of life sounds amazing… I would love to have that with you.

“We’ve worked so hard for the future of Zaun… we can take some time to think about ours.” 

The End

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Thanks of course to @silcoitus, the smartest, kindest, most reliable beta reader anyone could ever hope to have. I have been so lucky for you to join me on this journey, and knowing that you've enjoyed this fic has been so encouraging. I've learned so much from your feedback, and if I've improved as a writer at all over the course of this fic, then that's all because of you fr <3

And thank you thank you THANK YOU, if you're still reading this. Every like, comment, reblog, and kudos helped carry me through dark times and writer's block. Being reincarnated as the Reader of this fic (specifically my OC "Iris") and isekai'd into this story is one of my deepest desires, so like... for anyone still reading this, ya'll know me better than some of my irl friends and family do, even if we've never met or spoken directly. And being seen and appreciated for that is just... so healing. I really wish I could describe it better. But it cheers me up so much whenever I see other people enjoying my writing. I lowkey wish I could show my fic to a therapist so they could figure out what's wrong with me, but ya'll reading my fic is the next best thing LOLOL

Please take care of yourselves. And thanks again, so much. Love you <333

[kirammansbow]

—“I NEVER WOULD HAVE GIVEN YOU TO THEM. NOT FOR ANYTHING. DON’T CRY, YOU’RE PERFECT.”

[ink-and-dagger]

What if Astrid find a pic of young Silco by accident hehhehehehhehehehehhe

Snapshot

A Drink With Me ficlet

870 words || Established relationship || Silco x Astrid (but can be read as gen f!reader) || SFW but suggestive || MDNI

“Oh my Gods.”

“What?”

“Oh. My Gods.”

Time has stripped the photograph between your fingers of its glossy sheen and has left the edges blunt and frayed, but you would recognise those features anywhere; no less sharp nor striking through the faded sepia.

“This is you.”

It had slipped from between two ledgers as you’d perused Silco’s bookshelves – an activity more to entertain your idle hands than a genuine search for reading material. The image itself is simple and candid: A young man, seemingly oblivious to the fact his portrait is being taken, sat at a familiar bar, with eyes downcast toward a spread of papers.

That same man looks up at you now from a very similar spread of papers. “What is?”

“This.” You drift over to his desk and perch on its edge, all the while unable to tear your gaze from the photo in your hands. The pitch dark hair swept back into a low bun. The familiar strays – the same ones that even now will always be the first to escape any styling under the combing of agitated fingers – falling forward into his face, only far longer and thicker than you’re used to. His skin, unblemished and smooth, save for the chronic furrow between his brows – etched there long before time and tragedy ravaged the rest.

Silco hums absently; an indication that he acknowledges your discovery but finds little interest in it. You can imagine the man in the photograph making the exact same noise, were someone to distract him from his paperwork for a reason he deemed benign. You flip the photo over. No date.

“How old are you here?”

Silco exhales through his nose, places his pen down with a pointed clack, and extends his hand wordlessly toward you.

“Hah! Do you think I’m wet behind the ears?” you hold the photograph out of his reach, “You can tell just fine from over there thank you very much.”

He cuts you a scathing glance, before leaning forward in his chair with a foreboding creak to peer more closely at the image. His scarred lips purse slightly in thought.

“Mid–late twenties. I can’t say for certain.”

“You were hot.”

“Were?”

“Were and are,” you coo, reclining backwards over the desk into his space, one elbow pitched on his paperwork to hold your weight whilst you flap the photograph in front of his face, “Can I keep this?”

“For what reason?”

“Dirty ones.”

“Hardly necessary,” Silco says, the very corner of his mouth creasing upwards as he catches your wrist to halt your photo-flapping, “You have access to the real thing.”

“True, true, and you can be sure I’ll continue taking advantage of that.” You grin, shoving your captured, photo-wielding arm a little closer to him in emphasis, “But right now I’m talking about some alone time with this guy.”

Silco scoffs under his breath and releases your wrist. You twist onto your front, weight propped on both elbows as you admire the photograph in your grip. You trace a finger down the slender throat of the man in the photo, over the generous wedge of chest exposed by his open crimson collar.

“D’you think he’d notice me? If I came into that bar?”

“Oh I’m certain he would.”

“Yeah?” You lift your gaze from the man in the photo to the one before you – as equally breathtaking. More so. You catch your lower lip between your teeth. “What line would he use?”

Silco hums, low and thoughtful, leaning forward in his chair, closing in on your space. He picks up his abandoned pen, briefly twirling the implement until it’s poised between his elegant fingers like a cigarette. Nib safely facing his own palm.

“After downing the dregs of his drink for courage... he would have approached you.”

With sensual tenderness, he brushes the barrel of his pen along your cheek, warmed metal against warmer skin. Catching at the curve of your jawline, and tracing over your pulse in a way that makes it fumble a beat.

“Cast his gaze over each of your pretty, pretty features. One by one,” he murmurs, slowly drawing the end of the pen down your jugular, down the slope of your collar bone, to leisurely trail through the cut of your cleavage. The corner of your mouth hooks up. The warmth low in your belly coils a little tighter.

“He would have leaned in close,” Silco whispers, demonstrating just so, “Close enough that you’d almost taste the whiskey on his breath.”

Blunt metal drags a purposeful line up your throat, and your lips part softly as he tilts your face toward his with the barrel of his pen flat and firm beneath your chin.

“And asked you – very nicely – to stop leaning on his paperwork.”

You press your tongue against the inside of your cheek while Silco’s dual eyes sizzle with smug mirth. It’d be unthinkable, really – to forfeit either one for the sake of a matching pair.

You straighten and push off his desk, hips swaying as you saunter over to the bedroom with the photograph in hand.

“Well,” you say, pausing in the threshold and turning to him with a smirk, “If you need us, you know where we’ll be.”

[ace-of-zaun]

Kiss Me More. pt 2:

silco x f!reader - 1.8k words - SFW

series summary: “Whatever, all I’m saying is, I can teach you how to kiss,” Silco insists, before adding just a little too nonchalantly, “You know, if you want to.”

cw: first dates, jealous silco, silco is a little shit, silco causing problems on purpose, mild angst, mild sexual references, fluff, friends to lovers, young silco

PART 1 | PART 3 | PART 4

-

One agonising, excruciatingly long week later and neither you nor Silco have mentioned the kiss again. In fact, Silco has been so weird, (well, weirder than he normally is anyhow) that you’re genuinely starting to worry you accidentally damaged some of his brain cells when you pulled on his hair. 

He holds himself all weirdly now, like he’s forgotten how sitting or standing works. And he stares and stares and stares at you, and then scowls when you look back or ask him what’s wrong. 

You even catch him just standing staring at your bedroom door one day, smack bang in the middle of the corridor, but when you question what he’s doing he just grunts at you and slams into his own bedroom, the tips of his ears flushed crimson.

This, frankly unhinged, behaviour continues right up until you’re leaving for your date with Seven. 

Vander, the wonderful, had said you looked lovely, and Silco, the prat, had just scowled at your outfit and crossed his arms in a huff.

Not wanting to spend the whole of your first ever date giving a rage-fuelled rant about your idiot best friend, you’d taken a deep breath and magnanimously chosen to just roll your eyes at him, instead of picking a fight. 

You can get him back later by unpicking the seams of his favourite shirt, anyway. That’ll show him. 

But as you’d looked over your shoulder to say goodbye to the boys, fingertips hanging loosely off the door handle, you’d caught Silco surreptitiously looking you up and down with a surprisingly soft look on his face. 

It had thrown you for a bit of a loop, the little motion and facial expression re-playing in your head over and over again as you’d walked through the streets of Zaun…

But then there’s no time to think of it anymore because you’re suddenly on your date with Seven - who you think you like. It’s a bit difficult to tell, honestly. 

The date goes well (you guess, you’ve never been on one before, so there’s nothing to really compare it to). He’d taken you to dinner at one of the local food stalls because the restaurants on The Promenade are far, far too expensive, but at least the food had been familiar. 

Plus, it was way nicer than any of Sil’s burnt, home-made meals… Probably. (Okay, maybe you’ve grown a little bit fond of them after all this time.)

You and Seven had talked for most of the date. And you’d gotten to know each other a little bit better. Well, you’d got to know Seven better; you didn’t really get much of a chance to talk about yourself, in between his monologues. 

And sure, you didn’t kiss, but he did hold your hand on the way home. 

Now, as you reach your apartment building, Seven insists on walking you up to your flat, even gesturing for you to climb the stairs before him with a sweep of his arm. And when you finally arrive outside your apartment door, he turns to you with a strange, smug look on his face. 

“Well, I suppose this brings an end to our evening,” he says, voice dropping in a way that you assume is meant to be seductive, but honestly just makes him sound like he needs a cough drop. “But there is one more thing I want to do before I leave.”

Before you even have a chance to respond, Seven is backing you up against the door, arms slithering around you until they rest low around your waist (a little too low if you’re being honest). An uncomfortable feeling settles in your chest but then he’s leaning down and lining his lips up with yours and-

Shit, this is it. He’s going to kiss you. 

You heave a sharp intake of breath and desperately try to remember everything Silco had told you during your little practice session, but it’s currently quite difficult to think properly when your heart is drumming in your chest and your hands are shaking. 

Of course, thinking about Silco must summon him because instead of feeling the sensation of lips on lips, you’re suddenly experiencing the sensation of falling, as the door opens behind you. 

Without the solid, wooden surface holding your upper back in place, you tip backwards with a squeal, only saved from falling flat on your arse by Seven tightening his arms around you and setting you back on your feet. 

Instantly, you want his suffocating arms off of you, so you subtly shove him away as you turn to face the culprit of the opening door. 

“Silco!”

“Hey, you’re back,” he announces, a little too casually. It doesn’t match his bizarre, half-amused, half-something-else expression at all. Or the death grip he has on the door frame. “Great, we need to change the bed sheets.” 

You almost sputter at the choice of phrasing. Not his bed sheets, the bed sheets, like there’s only one bed in the apartment, and needing to change them implies…

Before you can clarify, because you don’t want your date getting the wrong idea, Silco turns to look at Seven, eyes narrowing dangerously. 

Uh, oh. You know that look. That’s his ‘I’m going to make your life a fucking misery’ look. 

“Oh, who’s your little friend?” Silco asks, voice deceptively sweet. 

“Seven,” he responds, holding a hand out for Sil to shake, which he promptly ignores. “And you are?”

“Really, very busy right now, so if you’ll just excuse us.” Silco dismisses him, resting one hand on the small of your back as he tries to herd you through the doorway and into the flat. 

You squirm out of his grasp, annoyance levels rising until they’re practically reaching Piltover. 

“Silco, just get the stuff out the airing cupboard and I’ll be with you in a min-"

“It’s okay, baby girl, I’d best be going anyway.” Seven interrupts you, stepping even closer to you. His voice does that stuffy, flu thing again, and he acts like he’s speaking only to you, but it’s definitely loud enough for Silco to hear. “I had a great time this evening.”

“Me too.” You smile at him with tight lips, despite it being a bit of a lie. It just feels like it’s something you’re supposed to say at the end of a date. 

“I’d love to do it again sometime,” he continues, voice taking on an overly suggestive tone. “I’ll see you at the shop? We can arrange another date… maybe some late night swimming?”

You feel your face heat up at the thought, and it certainly doesn’t help that Silco is a foot away, burning a hole into the side of your skull. 

Janna, you really hope Seven doesn’t try to kiss you again in front of Sil, you think you might die of embarrassment. You pretend to scratch at your nose, subtly covering your mouth, just in case he tries again. 

“Uh, I'll see you later,” you say noncommittally. “Goodnight, Seven.”

Except, it doesn’t seem to work because he just grabs the hand covering your face and brings it up to his lips, pressing a rough kiss against your fingers. It’s an effort not to squirm. 

“Goodnight, princess,” he drawls, winking when you just stare at him.

Then, he finally notices the intense death stare Silco is sending his way, dropping your hand to shoot daggers back at your best friend before turning on his heel and sauntering down the stairs. 

With Seven gone, a weird sense of relief floods through you, but it quickly dissipates, leaving you with nothing but the urge to smack Silco round the back of his stupidly beautiful head. You don’t, though. 

Instead, you march back inside the flat, hackles raised as Silco closes the door behind you and leans back on it. He dusts his hands off with two wide sweeps up and down like the dramatic idiot he is. 

“And good riddance.”

Slowly, you turn to face him fully, carefully watching his eyes widen slightly in mild alarm. 

“What the hell was that?”

“What?” he asks, really, genuinely confused. 

You could throttle him. 

“That!” 

“I’m afraid I don’t quite know what you mean,” Silco replies. 

“You were so rude to him!” you explode. “And you…” 

You want to say that he implied that the two of you share a bed, but you can’t bring yourself to say it. Hell, you know your cheeks are absolutely burning at just the thought of it. (And not even just the usual things you think of when sharing a bed with someone, but even just the thought of waking up next to him, seeing him when he’s all relaxed and soft in the morning. It hurts to even picture it.)

“Yeah, well, I don’t like him.” Silco interrupts your runaway daydream. 

“Why? You don't even know him!” you protest. 

“I just don’t like the look of him.”

“Silco!" 

“What? I don’t think he’s right for you. I mean, did you hear him? I had a lovely evening, princess, why don’t we go skinny dipping for our next date, doll.” The mocking accent he puts on is far from flattering. “Ugh, what a slimeball.”

“He doesn’t even sound like that!” You don’t know why you even bother protesting, he’s clearly on a roll. 

“And what kind of a name is Seven, anyway? Do you think his parents hated him too? Do you think that’s why he’s such a prick?”

You sigh heavily. 

“I’m going to bed,” you announce, turning away from him to walk through the living room and towards your bedroom. 

Except you don’t get very far because Silco catches your hand and gently pulls you back to him, until you’re stood holding hands in the middle of the room. 

“Wait, I actually need your help making my bed,” he says, face and voice melting into something genuine (and irritatingly endearing). 

But not endearing enough after all the shit he’s been putting you through this last week. 

You pull your fingers out of his grip and slap at his hand when he tries to grab them again. 

“Get Vander to do it,” you snap, perhaps a little too harshly. 

“But he’s still at work!” He’s borderline pleading now. 

“Well, you’ll just have to sleep in dirty sheets then, won’t you?” You say, muttering a sardonic little, “Twat,” under your breath as you finally walk away. 

Predictably, Silco is in a massive sulk for a ridiculous amount of time after that.

He doesn’t even stop when you finally offer to help him change his bed sheets, watching him messily tucking the corners of the bed sheets under his threadbare mattress in silence, until you bat his hands away and show him how to do it properly (honestly, the boy is useless without you). 

By the end of the week, you decide that you just don’t understand him and probably never will. (It still doesn’t stop you from thinking about him every second of every day, though.)

-

PART 3

-

super secret taglist: @oceansssblue @inolaphoenix @holographicgarden

[local-crying-boy]

🅂🄸🄻🄲🄾

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

𝕠𝕦𝕣 𝕝𝕠𝕧𝕖, 𝕕𝕖𝕖𝕡𝕖𝕣 𝕥𝕙𝕖𝕟 𝕒𝕟𝕪 𝕠𝕔𝕖𝕒𝕟

𝙿𝚊𝚒𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐: 𝙿𝚊𝚜𝚝!𝚂𝚒𝚕𝚌𝚘 𝚇 𝙵𝚎𝚖!𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛

𝙶𝚎𝚗𝚛𝚎: 𝙾𝚗𝚎-𝚜𝚑𝚘𝚝, 𝚖𝚘𝚛𝚎 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚊 𝚕𝚒𝚝𝚝𝚕𝚎 𝚍𝚛𝚊𝚋𝚋𝚕𝚎/𝚒𝚖𝚊𝚐𝚒𝚗𝚎, 𝚜𝚎𝚌𝚛𝚎𝚝 𝚙𝚒𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚏𝚛𝚘𝚖 𝚂𝚒𝚕𝚌𝚘, 𝚞𝚗𝚎𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚋𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚑𝚎𝚍 𝚛𝚎𝚕𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜𝚑𝚒𝚙

𝚆𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜: 𝚜𝚑𝚘𝚛𝚝!!! 𝚂𝙿𝙾𝙻𝙸𝙴𝚁𝚂 𝙵𝙾𝚁 𝙰𝚁𝙲𝙰𝙽𝙴 𝚂𝙴𝙰𝚂𝙾𝙽 2 𝙰𝙲𝚃 2

𝚂𝚞𝚖𝚖𝚊𝚛𝚢: 𝙸𝚝'𝚜 𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚊𝚗𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚗𝚐𝚒𝚑𝚝 𝚊𝚝 𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝙻𝚊𝚜𝚝 𝙳𝚛𝚘𝚙, 𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 <<𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛>>, 𝚂𝚒𝚕𝚌𝚘, 𝚅𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝙵𝚎𝚕𝚒𝚌𝚒𝚊 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚐𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚘𝚞𝚝. 𝚆𝚑𝚎𝚗 𝙵𝚎𝚕𝚒𝚌𝚒𝚊 𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚗𝚜 𝚘𝚗 𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚜𝚒𝚐𝚗𝚒𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚎 𝚜𝚘𝚗𝚐 <<𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛>> 𝚌𝚊𝚗'𝚝 𝚑𝚎𝚕𝚙 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚑𝚞𝚖 𝚊𝚕𝚘𝚗𝚐, 𝚠𝚑𝚒𝚌𝚑 𝚘𝚗𝚕𝚢 𝚌𝚊𝚞𝚜𝚎𝚜 𝚂𝚒𝚕𝚌𝚘 𝚝𝚘 𝚜𝚒𝚕𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚕𝚢 𝚜𝚒𝚝 𝚒𝚗 𝚊𝚠𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚘𝚖𝚊𝚗 𝚑𝚎 𝚑𝚊𝚜 𝚜𝚙𝚎𝚗𝚝 𝚜𝚘 𝚖𝚞𝚌𝚑 𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚎 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑.

𝚆𝚘𝚛𝚍 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚝: 359

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

The faint, familiar sound of a certain song echoed throughout The Last Drop, the stillness of the room having shifted into a more light-hearted one with the music that was now playing.

There was a small laugh from Vander, who had been cleaning up the bar, a small shake of his head once he had realised what song was playing, again. Silco didn't have much of a reaction, apart from the subtle uplift of his lips, however, it had mostly been hidden from the fact that he was looking down at his notebook. Whereas, you had become so fond of the song that you couldn't help but leisurely swing your head side to side.

The blue haired woman was standing over at the jukebox, freely swaying her body in tune with the music. Her movements were both carefree and (almost) elegant, it could've looked like Felicia was attempting to replicate more of the sophisticated dancing in Topside, but the three of you knew she was just going with whatever she came up with in the moment.

A soft hum alongside the music blended in soon enough, Silco's eyes glancing up and over at you, who was mindlessly nodding your head along to the music - lost in your own world, no doubt.

A doting smile pulled on the man's lips, Vander noticing from his place behind the bar, as he looked over at your relaxed figure. He couldn't help it, he swore, you looked so untroubled in that mind, like the place the four of you called home wasn't such a shit-hole, like there was actually good in this hell.

The way your eyes sometimes shut when you got to a certain part in the song, or when you messed up your whole body would still until you could continue and get it right, that was when his heart was flutter in his chest.

The moment didn't last long, however, he heard the faint, amused breath from Vander, which quickly caused Silco to shake his head and keep his gaze down at his notebook in front of him, shaking his pen in his hand as if he was thinking about what he was writing.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Masterlist

[gingernut1314]

The Water's Cold Embrace Masterlist

Summary: You were born for a reason unknown to you. A reason Janna thinks is important. A reason you couldn't care less about. All you care about is surviving and causing as much chaos to the uppity people of Piltover as you can. You want to see it all burn down as you laugh in their faces and on a night you are causing such mischievous chaos, you run into a Silco who, though more calculating, is just like you.

Content: Female reader x Silco, pre-Arcane season 1, will go into season 1 but much later, young Silco, Vander, Sevika, Felicia, Connol, & baby Viktor, Vi, Powder, Viktor's parents, canon typical descriptions of violence & death, reader has water manipulation powers, sex (further warning in individual part), drugs, smoking, revolution, unrequited love...or is it???, friends to lovers, slow burn, slight Arcane season 2/League of Legends spoiler (Janna, Felicia/Connol)

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Setlist: (Full Playlist)

Blood//Water

Love and War

Living in the Shadows

Snakes

Mermaids

The Angry River

Start a War

The Water's Cold Embrace:

Prologue:

ᥫ᭡ Chapter 1: The Winds of the Undercity {1.2K}

Act 1:

ᥫ᭡ Chapter 2: Turkey and Cheese {2.7K}

ᥫ᭡ Chapter 3: Sack of Potatoes {2.9K}

ᥫ᭡ Chapter 4: Just a Bedtime Story {3.7K}

Act 2:

ᥫ᭡ Chapter 5: Don't Jinx It {4.5K}

ᥫ᭡ Chapter 6: Bit of Friendly Banter {4.1K}

ᥫ᭡ Chapter 7: The Water's Embrace {5.9K}

ᥫ᭡ Chapter 8: Head On {7.6K}

Act 3:

ᥫ᭡ Chapter 9: Like Seahorses Do {8.9K}

ᥫ᭡ Chapter 10: The Siren of the Undercity -COMING SOON

ᥫ᭡ Chapter 11: -COMING SOON

ᥫ᭡ Chapter 12: -COMING SOON

Act 4:

ᥫ᭡ Chapter 13: Wailing Sea Witch -COMING SOON

ᥫ᭡ Chapter 14: -COMING SOON

ᥫ᭡ Chapter 15: -COMING SOON

ᥫ᭡ Chapter 16: -COMING SOON

Epilogue:

ᥫ᭡ Chapter 17: The Waters of Zuan -COMING SOON

[jinxesgvn]

[mybelovedfleur]

,,𝐵𝑒𝓁𝓁𝒶𝒹𝑜𝓃𝓃𝒶" 𝒞𝒽𝒶𝓅𝓉𝑒𝓇 𝐼

(Yandere!Silco x Amnesiac!Fem!Reader)

─ ⊹ ⊱ -'♡'- ⊰ ⊹ ─

!TW! FantasyAU! Heavy Yandere Themes, Silco is ooc for sure, vomiting, sick!reader, violence, mention of death, I will tag every chapter seperately! :)

Description: ,, A series of unfortunate events causes you to completely lose your memory. Now, you find yourself thrust into the role of the Duchess of Zaun, married to a man you don’t recognize. But was this ever truly your life? And why does the scent of blood cling to you, no matter where you go? "

Note: english is NOT my first language, I am very much open for critique and suggestions but pls be nice and respectful :c

Also a big ty and ily to @ink-and-dagger because DWM is the best fic on the internet and you should read it immediatelly! They're the main reason for me coming back to writing after YEARS, yes it is that good C: GO READ IT NOW OR REREAD IT IDC

─ ⊹ ⊱ -'♡'- ⊰ ⊹ ─

A violent cough escaped your lips, food remains mixed with blood landed on the undoubtedly expensive silverware before you. A warm hand found its way to your back, moving in soothing circles, while you tried to catch your breath. You frowned at the mess you made, tears slowly clouding your vision.

,,I'm so sorry" you whispered in embarrassment, looking down at your weak, trembling hands.

"Don’t," Silco muttered, his brow furrowed as he wiped your face gently. "I shouldn’t have let you eat at the table. You’re too weak, my love." His tone was firm, but the action was oddly tender. It felt as though you were a child being cared for by a doting mother. But the difference was evident - you were a grown woman, and he was your husband, at least that’s what he told you.

"We're going back to bed now, that's enough stress for you today, beloved," he said without a second's hesitation, immediately picking you up and heading towards the bedroom as you whimpered in his hold. It was the first time Silco had allowed you to be anywhere beyond your bedroom or the bathroom. Sitting at the table, rather than being spoon fed by him while lying in bed felt strangely liberating, a brief moment of freedom you hadn’t realized you craved so much. 

,,It's morning" you were certain he heard your complaints, yet he chose to ignore them as he tucked you under the covers of an annoyingly comfortable bed. You felt like you had explored every nook and cranny of that room a hundred times, and stepping outside of it felt like a trip to an amusement park.

The matress beside you dipped under his weight, while his hand started to softly carress your hair

,,I'll bring you your medicine, you'll feel better then, alright?" his touch traveled over your temple, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear ,, I'll be right next to you, I'll read the reports and you'll fall asleep cuddled up to me, warm and soft" a delicate kiss landed on your head "Just like you used to"

It's been 2 weeks since you woke up. A dense fog shrouded your mind, obscuring everything. Who are you? What is your name? These seemingly simple questions only deepened the ache in your head. The pain had been unbearable then - every little movement was difficult. Your body felt exhausted and weak, as if it was pushing against the limits of its own capabilities.

It felt as though you had been dragged through hell and back—there was no other way to explain the state you were in. For the first few days, you burned with fever, teetering on the edge of consciousness, struggling to hold on to even a fleeting sense of reality.

In those brief moments when you managed to grasp even a sliver of reality around you, there was always that one hand gently touching your forehead, that one voice soothing your nerves, whispering sweet words of comfort.

You felt then as if some higher power took pity on your tormented soul, sending you an angel who became your only anchor in all this madness, his presence was like a silent ray of light piercing through the thick fog of pain. Every time his presence was felt, your whole body seemed to cry out for his touch, as if he was the only cure for the pain, the only being who could heal you. You were sure that if only you could, you would pull him to you, locking him in a strong embrace.

The reality turned out to be much more bitter than you expected.

When you first saw his face, a crushing feeling of terror ran through your body, unable to move on your own, completely at the mercy of this strange man. Your body trembled on its own with his every touch, almost trying desperately to scream for you to run away, the complete opposite of your imaginary savior. 

At first you thought it was just his appearance that made you so terrified, and you couldn't help but feel disgusted with yourself.

Yet despite his terrifying, almost inhuman eye and wounded face, the fear you felt ran deeper. It was some intangible, subconscious force that told you to stay away, as if something in his presence dangerously shook your intuition.

At first glance, you could already tell that he was an extremely elegant and wealthy man. His clothes were woven with gold and silver threads, perfectly fitting his figure, as if it was an indispensable part of him.

You were convinced that this place belonged to him. The opulence and grandeur of this bedroom made you feel almost alien, like you had no right to be there, like all this luxury didn't suit you in any way.

But the way he looked at you made you feel like you were a priceless treasure, a million times more valuable and beautiful than anything he ever owned. Only then did you begin to consider that it was the same person who had been standing by your bed all those days. His face immediately softened when he noticed you were no longer desperately trying to get away from him.

He told you everything, not taking his eyes off your face, as if he was looking for any reaction in it, as if each of your glances could reveal something he hadn't said yet. "I am Silco, Duke of Zaun, you are (Y/N), my only, dearest wife" the way he said it, as if it was a sacred thing, known to the world for centuries. He knelt down in front of your bedside, took your cold hand in his and gave it a kiss that involuntarily made everything inside you instantly quiet, your fear, the trembling of your body, the accelerated heartbeat audible in your ears, and probably your common sense.

A month ago, when your carriage was attacked by his enemies, their goal was him - but fate would have it that he wasn't with you in that moment. Against all odds, despite your wounds, you managed to escape, the only survivor. Amidst the raging storm, you wandered breathlessly through the forest, with every moment your wounds were deepening, and your strength was fading. Surely at some point you had to fall, the doctors said that the wound on the back of your head was critical.

You felt the internal pain that he must have experienced, almost spilling over to you. Every word he spoke carried pain and indescribable sadness, as if what he was telling was not only a story but also a painful memory that would not give him peace.

You sat there, legs pulled up to your chest, heart beating at an accelerated pace. Although you tried to make a sound, the words died in your throat, and the huge lump that was stuck there prevented you from saying anything. Finally, unable to contain your emotions, tears began to flow, silently running down your cheeks. 

The moment he pulled you to him and locked you in a tight embrace you were unable to resist , or tell if his embrace was a gesture of a  savior or the bonds of an executioner. 

You closed your eyes and gave yourself into his hands

You wouldn't get an answer.

─ ⊹ ⊱ -'♡'- ⊰ ⊹ ─

A terrible coldness took over your body, you opened your eyes the moment an icy gust of wind touched your face. You groggily sat up, to your surprise the door to Silco's office was wide open, compared to the darkness of the bedroom, a faint glow of a dancing candle flame was emerging from that room. Your feet touched the cold floorboards, and the sound of your own breathing seemed exaggeratedly loud

And it was only when the door handle was within reach of your hand that you realized you were able to move without Silco's help. Your legs no longer seemed to disobey you, standing no longer made you nauseous, and the inevitable headache disappeared.

The office was shrouded in mist, and its humidity made you slowly squint. The candle flame seemed to shimmer more and more intensely in your eyes, its light reflecting aggressively on the dark walls. Could it be smoke and not mist? Surely such a small candle couldn't do that, a fire had to start somewhere. As soon as that thought crossed your mind, you felt it,

As soon as that thought crossed your mind, you felt it - the sharp smell of burning forcefully entered your lungs. Choking, ragged breaths spasmed from your throat. As you grabbed your neck, and tried to back away to the bedroom, only a blank wall stood where the door had been, as if it had never been there.

"Ṣ̷͇͓͚̓̍a̶̭͒v̷͉̹̦̊̋̿ẻ̷̳ ̵̪͔̭̓̿͑͝ư̸̖ͅs̸̻͚̯͐" a desperate cry echoed in your ears, your eyes wandering around the room in panic. But the blinding glow of the candle flames made everything around them merge into one, as if time and space had ceased to exist.

"I̷͗͐͜t̷̢͇̪͗͆͝'̸̘̟̕s̶͈̘͝ ̶̺̞͈͓͆̒̓͘h̷̜̥̙͚̄͐̏̕ì̷̟̙͇̭̐̑̕s̶̢͖̏ ̶͇͝f̵͓͋ą̸̘͔̤͐̍̌ú̵̹̕l̵̨͎̈́̒̓́t̴͉̬͒̍.̷̡̣̭́.̵̡̯̠̋̓.̸̩̭͍͎̈́͊́͐" screams, sobs, dying breaths, desperate attempts to catch even a moment of respite. In the background, that terrifying, constant sound of burning wood, as if the world was about to fall to pieces.

"Y̴̜̎̔͛͂o̴͔̎ṵ̷̾͆̊̈r̴̟̜͚͂͌͘ ̵̢̖͙̫́̄f̵̰̚a̷͈̽͋̀͝ủ̵͙͑̕l̷̹̳̻͖̈͝ţ̸̐͋"

[velvetvampyric]

First chapter of my Witch x Silco fic is up!

Hardest of Hearts

Chapter 1: The Raven

(Note)

Both this one and my ‘Darling my heart loved you from the start.’ Fic are inspired and titled from the song hardest of hearts by Florence + the machine I adore that song so much and think it fits with Silco fics

[cornykrameri]

Silco x Female POV Snippet Tags: Switch Silco, Power Play, Smoking, Light Bondage, Brat Taming, some-kinky-shit

— What’s taking so long? Never tied someone up before?

His voice was melodic, laced with mockery, and I felt heat rush to my cheeks. But I recovered quickly, shooting him a sharp look as I pulled the knot tight.

— Not someone as stubborn as you, — I shot back, tugging on the loose end of the tie.

He leaned forward, his face so close to mine that I almost gave in and kissed him again. Instead, my hand reached for the cigar box on the table.

Silco watched as I took one, placed it between my lips, and lit it on the second try.

— Bold, aren’t you? — his voice played like a melody, both mocking and intrigued.

I met his gaze, inhaling the heavy smoke.

— You have no idea, — I murmured lowly.

Clenching the cigar between my teeth, I pulled the tie’s loose end upward, forcing his hands higher. His wrists tensed, but he didn’t resist. With my free hand, I grabbed the end of the tie behind his back and pulled it downward, locking his hands behind his head. His eyes were sharp, studying me with playful, defiant attention. It wasn’t a submissive gaze—it was a challenge. And it thrilled me. I wanted to see how far he would let me go.

Taking the cigar in my left hand, I pressed against his chest, pinning him against the back of the couch.

— We’ve got some problems, — I began in an even tone, feeling the nicotine-induced lightheadedness creeping in. — But I’m just a person with pain, — I continued, swinging a leg over to straddle him, keeping his bound hands above his head. — And I want to take yours away, — I whispered.

He smirked, watching as I slowly drew on the cigar and released the smoke, tilting my head back. Pressing down harder on his lap, I extended the cigar toward his lips, offering him the chance to take a drag.

Silco stared at me for a long moment before tilting his head slightly to the side, rejecting my offer.

— Do you really think you can control me so easily? — he asked, his tone brimming with defiance.

What a stubborn man.

— I think I can, — I replied, pulling the cigar back and leaning in close. — Don’t pretend you don’t want this. Don’t act like you don’t crave giving me your soul and losing control just once in your life. — My voice was steady as I stared into his eyes, feeling every beat of my pulse echoing in the air between us.

I looked straight at him, wanting him to understand that I could see deeper than he allowed. Something shifted in his expression. His lips parted slightly, and I took it as an invitation. Slowly, I brought the cigar close again, leaving only a fraction of space between its tip and his mouth.

— Then admit you want it, — I said calmly.

His gaze darkened, and with a quick motion, he snatched the cigar from my hand with his teeth, taking a long drag.

— No, — I cut him off sharply, immediately taking the cigar back.

I pressed my lips to his, drawing the smoke from his mouth and throat. It pleased me that he let me do it—it meant he was playing along, teasing me, but it only made me more determined.

Pulling back, I exhaled the smoke, my head spinning and an unfamiliar, exhilarating sensation blooming in my chest. I looked at him—his hands tied above his head, his steady, confident gaze meeting mine. That feeling was turning me inside out, twisting in the most intoxicating way. It was the thrill of power. How long would he last before he gave in? What would it take to make him surrender?

— Shall we try again? — I asked calmly, looking him over from head to toe as I brought the cigar close to his lips, so close that he could snatch it back if he wanted to.

He studied something in my eyes, his gaze tinged with doubt. For a moment, he glanced at the cigar before locking eyes with me again. His mouth parted ever so slightly, but instead of speaking, he clenched his jaw, refusing to give in so easily.

— Ask me for it, — I added, tilting my head slightly as I tugged his hands bound by the tie a little farther. — You won’t get it unless you just ask.

I saw something shift within him. Silco swallowed, his chest freezing for a brief moment as though he were wrestling with the decision. That tension was mesmerizing: he was trying to hold firm, but I caught the subtle cracks in his armor. Finally, he looked up at me and, in a quiet, raspy voice, said:

— Would you be so kind as to let me smoke?

Those words were clearly a struggle for him. My lips curved into a smile. I had succeeded: I had pushed him somewhere he hadn’t been before, and it intoxicated me more than the alcohol coursing through my veins.

— Anything for you, — I said, allowing him to close his lips around the cigar as I pressed closer to him.

He inhaled slowly, deliberately avoiding my gaze. It was endearing, his attempt to hold on to some scrap of control when I knew I was already winning. I felt his breath grow heavier, his body warm beneath mine. Moving the cigar away so he could exhale, I added softly:

— That must’ve been hard for you—saying it out loud, wasn’t it? — My words cut through the tension like a blade. — But see, the result was worth it, and nothing terrible happened.

He stayed silent, but I felt his bound hands twitch against the tie as if testing the knot. I didn’t waver; I observed him, soaking in the emotions he tried to hide. This was a moment of truth: he wasn’t surrendering all at once but step by step, allowing me to push further and torment us both. His vulnerability felt unnatural, but he permitted himself to show it in my presence, and that made my heart ache with contradictions.

— I know you’re scared. You are pins, — I whispered, taking a slow drag from the cigar before exhaling heavily. — Let me be your needles.

I leaned closer, my lips nearly brushing his, feeling his breath mix with mine, his body tensing beneath me. His intoxicating scent, that teasing look in his eye—I wasn’t sure how much longer I could hold out, but I wasn’t ready to give everything away just yet. My tongue traced the scar at the corner of his lips, sliding to the middle of his cheek, and I felt him freeze under my touch.

[icequeenlila]

Silco x Vander Part2

(Link to first part at the end)

“On second thought”, Silco muttered when he watched one of the girls get up as if to come over. Her fellow friends cheered her on. “Take me home.”

Vander raised his eyebrows. “Huh?”

Silco turned to face him, holding out one of his hands. “I’ve had enough drinks. Take me home.”

And there was something in his eyes; Vander couldn’t quite put a finger on it, but it was there. Something heavy, something … intense.

He swallowed and his throat felt like a dry wasteland. The world seemed to blur around him; the hustling masses turned into vague silhouettes, the music fading into one single tune, the dim light of the bar turning everything golden and warm and fuzzy.

And in the middle of this swimming sea stood Silco; his eyes blue and sharp and the very anker of Vander’s perception.

He looked up at his best friend, his partner in crime, and he felt his heart skip a beat, felt it pick back up its rhythm way too fast, too strong. Felt it force hot blood through his veins until he could hear it pumping inside his ears, until he could feel it burning on his face.

Silco quirked one brow at him and Vander was transfixed by it.

His whole attention, his whole mind was on Silco and nothing else. He didn’t notice the music turning louder around them, didn’t notice the people passing them to get to the dance floor.

There was just Silco and his piercing blue eyes. Only Silco and his cute little frown as he turned his head, glaring at – What was he glaring at?

Vander followed his gaze and found a woman smiling down at him. He blinked in confusion.

The woman was looking at him as if waiting for an answer. Had she asked him a question? Vander hadn’t even noticed her approaching.

“Huh?”, he asked, the world slowly shifting back into place, now that he wasn’t staring at Silco anymore.

The woman – blonde, tall, pretty – laughed as if he’d said something funny. Vander wished she would go away.

He looked back at Silco and found him staring daggers at her. He had redrawn the hand he’d held out for him. Vander didn’t like that.

“I asked if you would like to dance”, the woman called over the loud music.

But Vander wasn’t even looking at her anymore. His entire attention was on Silco and the way his lips formed into an angered pout. He watched Silco move as if to cross his arms, but before he could do so, Vander reached out to him, taking hold of his wrist.

Silco didn’t fight him, only looked at him with a perplexed expression.

They stared at each other, their eyes locked, and finally, it clicked.

“Sorry”, Vander said in the girl’s direction without really looking at her. “I’m here with him.”

Silco’s eyes widened, but not by much, his brows wandering up and a tiny smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

‘So you do get what I meant’, his eyes seemed to say, and Vander could only smile back at him.

He really could be dense sometimes.

“Oh!”, the girl called, covering her mouth. “I’m so sorry, I should’ve known.” She gave them each an apologizing smile, tugging a strand of hair behind her ear. “Really guys, sorry. I hope you have a nice evening. Bye now!”

And then she turned to hurry back to her group of friends, who welcomed her back with nervous laughter and pitiful looks.

Silco and Vander both looked after her with irritated expressions on their faces.

“So”, Silco said after a while, turning back to face him. “You’re here with me?”

He gently tugged at Vander’s hand, urging him to stand, and Vander obliged with a low chuckle rumbling in his chest.

“I was here with you”, he teased, now looking down at Silco. “I was under the impression that we’re about to leave.”

Silco had to tip his head back to be able to look at him. He didn’t say anything, only studied Vander’s face, searching for something there. His pupils were wide and dark, indicating that his friend was still very drunk.

When Silco kept silently staring up at him, Vander began to doubt himself.

“Sorry, I thought I understood what you’d meant earlier, but if I’m wrong just tell- mmmhh.”

The alcohol also made him slow. One moment he’d been rambling, and in the other Silco had pulled him down by the neck, pressing their lips together in a quick kiss.

It was only a short moment of lips touching lips, but it was enough to get the point across.

When Silco pulled away, Vander had to blink against the dizziness inside his head. He found that he had his arms slung around Silco’s waist out of reflex. He felt him shift in his hold, a grin tugging at his lips, when he realized that Silco had been standing on his tippy-toes in order to reach up to him.

“I thought you’d never get it”, Silco said, a tipsy smile on his lips. “I swear I had to stop Felicia from screaming it into your face. Our girl was frustrated.”

Vander laughed at mental image.

“You should’ve let her”, he said, tightening his hold around Silco, pulling him closer. “Could’ve done this sooner.”

He touched his forehead to Silco’s, closing his eyes, happy to just hold him like this. Vander was still a bit drunk, his whole body buzzing with booze and butterflies, music thrumming in his ears.

He felt Silco’s huffed laugh on his lips from how close they were. Vander smiled when he felt Silco rub his nose against his, cuddling him without shame, like nobody was watching.

“Let’s get out of here”, Silco murmured, his warm breath hitting Vander’s lips, their mouths never quite touching. “Take me home, Vander.”

Vander dug his fingers into Silco’s hips, satisfied when he felt him flinch in his hold.

“Are you sure?”, he asked, his lips nibbling on Silco’s earlobe.

He couldn’t help the evil little grin spreading on his lips when he felt the man shiver against him.

“Very”, came Silco’s strangled response.

He pulled away from Vander’s embrace, instead entangling their fingers and tugging at him. Silco looked up at him with a promising smile on his lips, and Vander knew he’d follow him everywhere.

“Let’s find Felicia”, Silco said, his eyes never leaving Vander’s. “Tell her we’re leaving.”

Vander chuckled at that. “If she hasn’t left with someone else already.”

Silco shrugged his shoulders. “If she did, it means all three of us are getting lucky tonight.”

“Guess it does”, Vander replied with a grin.

They made their way through the masses with Silco leading the way. He was holding Vander’s hand as he navigated them towards the dance floor and Vander noticed that Silco was guiding his hand dangerously close to his lower back where his top was riding up, revealing a beautiful patch of smooth skin.

Silco moved so Vander’s knuckles would graze him there briefly, with every step he made.

Tease, Vander thought to himself, a knowing smirk on his lips.

Suddenly, Silco stopped and let go of Vander’s hand. Instead he reached up both his arms, waving them around.

“Felicia!”, he called with all his chest, still too drunk to worry about his appearance. “Felicia! Over here!”

“Wooooooooooh!”, a loud voice answered from the dancing crowd. “Silco! Vander! Heyyyyyyyy!”

Vander spotted her in the middle of the dance floor, one arm slung around someone’s neck and the other excessively waving back at them.

“Wait, we’ll come over!”, she called, dragging her flirt along.

“Guess, she’s found someone”, Vander chuckled. “Poor Connol.”

Silco shrugged his shoulders. “His fault for being so boring.”

Vander laughed. 

He felt so good! Silco had kissed him and they were going home together. Silco had kissed him! God, he felt like a girl with a crush.

Silco was still scanning the crowd for their friend, so Vander had the opportunity to stare at him unbothered. And by Janna, he was beautiful.

Vander could get lost in those blue eyes; which had happened many times before. His fingers tingled with the urge to run them along the sharp lines of Silco’s cheekbones, the edge of his nose, along his expressive eyebrows and over his soft, soft lips.

He knew for a fact that they were soft, because he’d felt them on his own only moments ago. Vander felt his heart pick up at the memory of it alone. God, he was lost.

“I think I lost her”, Silco said, stretching his neck to see better. He even got onto his tippy-toes, without much avail.

Vander smiled at the sight. He opened his mouth to say something when he was rudely interrupted.

“Hey, baby”, some guy slurred, throwing an arm around Silco’s shoulders. “Wanna come home with me?”

Vander saw red. His hands pulled into fists, adrenalin flooding his system. He moved almost instantly, ready to deck the man into the head, but Silco held him back with a hand to his chest.

Pulling free from the guy’s grasp Silco positioned himself between him and Vander, hands on his hips and looking up at the stranger unimpressed.

“Look at me”, he said, gesturing along his body. His voice sounded unbothered, bored even.

The guy let his eyes wander down Silco’s body with a disgusting smirk on his lips. “Oh, I’m looking, baby”, he said with a suggestive tone in his voice, stepping closer, invading Silco’s space.

Oh, Vander wanted to strangle him, wrap his fingers around his throat and smash him into the next best wall. But Silco wouldn’t let him.

“Now tell me”, Silco said. “In what kind of universe do you believe this is gonna happen?”

He stared the guy dead in the eyes, not blinking once, seemingly unbothered by the foul breath of the other.

Vander watched with delight as the rejection seemed to dawn on the man. The guy’s features went from perplexed to ashamed to angry really quickly.

“And who do you think you are, huh?”, the man slurred, moving as if to grab Silco by the collar. “You little bitch!”

Vander moved out of instinct, pulling Silco back by the shoulder and shielding him with his own body.

The guy looked up at him and immediately went white in the face, his mouth the shape of an ‘o’.

“Touch him and I’ll rip off that hand of yours”, Vander growled.

The guy audibly gulped, nodding his head. Vander wouldn’t be surprised if the guy just pissed himself. 

The man pulled up his shoulders, about to flee the scene when Silco slipped past Vander, a vicious grin on his lips.

Vander watched with wide surprise as Silco grabbed the man by his crotch, grip so tight his knuckles turned white.

The man screamed in pure agony, trying to get away from Silco and only screaming louder when Silco twisted his hand on him.

“Call me bitch one more time, and it won’t just be your hand I’ll rip from your pathetic, disgusting body!”, Silco hissed into the guy’s face, a grimace of a grin on his lips and cold glee inside his eyes. “Got it?”

“Yes!”, the guy wailed, his eyes shining with tears.

Silco cocked his head at him, staring a little longer. “Good”, he said as he watched the first pained tear roll down the man’s cheek.

He let go.

The guy immediately stumbled backwards, body curled and bent over. He looked up at them one final time, a look of raw horror on his face, before fleeing into the crowd.

Vander stared at Silco in shocked awe.

Silco simply straightened his back, blowing a strand of hair out of his face.

“Told you”, he said, turning to face Vander. “Got the suitors lining up.”

+

First Part

Still not finished. I'll probably fix some things while editing. I'll let you know when it's up on ao3.✨

[juniper-sunny]

The Art in the Heart* - Chapter 16

New developments in your career and relationship unfold simultaneously, while Silco deals with troubles above and belowground...

Happy Ending AU | Silco x Reader | Young!Silco | F!Reader | No [Y/N] | Slow Burn | Romance | Smut | Fluff | Angst | Hurt/Comfort | Fix-It || NSFW | P in V Sex, Oral Sex | WC: 5.3k

beta readers: @silcoitus @medic-simp <333

ao3 || Masterlist || Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10 | Chapter 11 | Chapter 12 | Chapter 13 | Chapter 14 || Chapter 15

───────────────── ●◉◎◈◎◉● ─────────────────

True to his word, Silco stayed as busy as ever. But at least you got to see him every day, as you both meticulously arranged a schedule that didn’t interfere with each other’s calendars. The only concession you forced Silco to make was for him to have breakfast with you every morning, either at your apartment or the Embrace. You were appalled to discover that he normally skipped that meal entirely, except for a singular cup of coffee. It explained why he was so skinny.

He insisted that he didn’t need to eat, but he quickly came around to enjoying these mornings with you, especially if he stayed the night before. If neither of you had plans later that day, he would fuck you slow and hard, thrusting deep into you as the morning sun’s gentle rays embraced you both. Losing track of time as Silco buried his cock in you over and over again, ravenously addicted to you as you were to him. Burning up in sweet, fiery rapture, reveling in Silco’s touch all over your body. Afterwards, you would make him do most of the heavy lifting when it came to cooking lunch. He was helpful in the kitchen, even as he smirked at the way your legs trembled with effort to keep you standing after so much sex.

Your place became Silco’s home away from home, as he came to appreciate the quiet and privacy your room offered away from The Last Drop. On busy nights when he needed to work, he would sit at your table with his notebook, writing intently with a furrowed brow, gazing into the distance as he planned for Zaun’s future.

On the rare occasion that you didn’t have a commission to work on, these moments were great opportunities to sneakily sketch him, perfecting the low arch of his brow, the pointed tip of his nose, the strong edge of his shoulders… loose and candid drawings that you almost never finished before the building, burning ache between your legs grew too hot to ignore, a depthless, aching want for Silco’s skin against yours.

Conscientious of not interrupting him, you would leave tiny, surreptitious invitations for him: leaving the door open as you showered, bending over further than necessary as you poured him tea to show off your lack of underwear, letting your hands linger tantalizingly on his shoulders after you finished massaging his back. Silco would turn his hands on you, his cock already hard as he grinded against you, growling at the audacity of your teasing in between rough and sloppy kisses. As if he wasn’t the devil himself when he brought you to the edge, withdrawing the sweet punishment of his mouth, fingers, or cock at the last second, turning you into a writhing, begging mess as he bared his teeth in a roguish grin, watching you struggle helplessly above or below him. Only for him to dissolve into incoherent praise as he finally relented, allowing you to chase your release as he rapidly approached his own. Then you’d both fall into a tangle of limbs and sweet nothings, declarations of love spilled on your bed, floor, walls, or furniture.

Gradually, you started spending more nights at The Last Drop. At first, you only stayed once a week, not wanting to impose on Vander. But he always greeted you warmly whenever you arrived, as welcoming now as he was the first day you met him. He only became more enthusiastic when you made it a point to start helping him make breakfast in the mornings, supplying the revolutionaries with fresh groceries and tasty coffee beans from Topside. Silco was helpless at cooking anything besides seafood, so he was always relegated to dishwashing duty. These cozy mornings were so delightful, your heart filling with a fuzzy warmth as you bumped elbows with the two brothers in their tiny kitchen. Soon enough, you became good friends with the bartender, his sister in the burgeoning revolution.

You met the other Children of Zaun purely by accident. Despite Silco and Vander’s insistence that their doors were open to you anytime, you always felt awkward visiting their home without checking in with them first. You hadn’t mustered up the courage to use the key that Silco had gifted you until a month later. When you finally did, you regretted it almost immediately, mortified to find yourself interrupting the Children in a private meeting. They had seemed like a motley gathering of Zaunites, a common sight on any other evening. But if the locked door wasn’t already a hint that the pub wasn’t open to the general public, the fact that nobody was drinking yet should have tipped you off as well.

Silco had walked over to you excitedly before you could slip away. He was so happy that you came, you didn’t want to disappoint him by leaving early. So you tucked yourself away in a private booth, feeling out of place and hoping that no one would call on you to speak up.

But your self-consciousness fell away when Silco strode over to the bar, taking his place next to Vander to give a rousing speech about the Undercity’s future. He painted a vibrant picture of a free and thriving Zaun, where its citizens could walk freely above and belowground without fear of being terrorized by Enforcers; where laborers could bring home a fair, living wage instead of mere coins; where the skies and waters were clear of Topside’s pollution. He was a captivating speaker with boundless, infectious energy; you’d heard snippets of his speeches before, and his earnestness entranced you even when the two of you were alone.

But in front of a larger audience, his charisma evolved into a force of nature. Your eyes were locked onto his every movement: the rise and fall of his lips as he enunciated, the grand sweeping of his hand at imaginary vistas and battlefields. He absorbed all the light in the room to return it a hundred times over, a glowing beacon to guide the Nation of Zaun’s inevitable progress. It was such an inspiring speech that it had you jumping to your feet and clapping when he finished, as his fellow Children cheered him on and pumped their fists in the air.

You made an effort to visit every meeting after that. There wasn’t much you could do to help with the Children’s schemes, but you brought medical supplies and homemade snacks every time you visited. After every successful mission, you pitched in to buy everyone a round of drinks. Soon enough, the revolutionaries came to see you as a friend and honorary member of their organization. You’re happy to contribute to the cause in whatever way you can, not just as Silco’s girlfriend, but as a proud Zaunite.

As your life became more entwined with Silco’s, your days were busier than ever. But it was the most fulfilling work you’ve ever done, to care for a partner and a community you love. It enhanced your enjoyment of your own career, as you took money from Topsiders and poured it back into the Undercity. You’ve always donated a share of your profits to the Embrace, but you donate to the Children now too. It amuses you to imagine Piltover’s elite funding Zaun’s rise to power.

After all, they can barely stand the sight of a gutter rat. It’ll be all the more satisfying when one of your own is finally granted a seat at the table.

________________________________________

Your footsteps in the stony hallways of Piltover Academy are loud, reverberating off marble tile and gilded pillars before they fade away. You step onto the campus’ main square, nodding politely at students and faculty as you pass by them.

Today’s destination is another monument to Topside’s arrogance: an exquisitely carved marble fountain at the center of the plaza. Assorted statues of great scholars stand with hands raised and mouths open in spirited debate, different species all assembled in various poses on a raised platform. Stacks of books and scientific equipment spout sparkling clear water, overflowing to fill a circular basin, a literal depiction of a fountain of knowledge. Still, it’s an incredible feat of sculpting, with layered hair, wrinkled clothing, and delicate paper pages rendered so finely that their true texture deceives the eye.

Your lip twitches involuntarily as you try not to scowl at the fountain. It’s such an ostentatious display of Piltover’s wealth, squandered on unnecessarily beautifying this one school when it could have been shared with the fissure folk. The waste of clean water is obvious, but the cost of importing marble from abroad infuriates you, too. Another frivolous expense—

“Fountains… what a curious structure,” a high-pitched, lilting voice pipes up by your knee. “It’s not right to classify them purely as art, but their practicalities are hard to define. They’re a source of noise, water, decoration, and entertainment, engaging multiple senses all at once. How do you quantify such factors when determining the nature of such a structure? I do love a good conundrum.”

You look down to see Professor Heimerdinger standing next to you, his fluffy white mustache curling upwards in a pensive expression.

“I can’t speak for the sculptor, but as an artist, I’m just happy whenever anyone enjoys my work,” you say matter-of-factly.

“But you engage in the pursuit of answers whenever you make art, young lady,” he titters. “You must have some insight into questions like this. I’m curious as to what they might be.”

“To be honest, professor, I like to leave the philosophy to other people.” It takes effort to not roll your eyes at the yordle. He’s just as long-winded as Silco, maybe even more so, but much less interesting to listen to. The councilor is just as pretentious as his colleagues, even if he doesn’t demonstrate the same self-centered vanity. His neglect of the Undercity isn’t born out of hate, but apathy and forgetfulness. He prefers to lose himself in his ivory tower with his head high in the clouds. Zaun’s existence is just a footnote to him, a piece of trivia in the scholarship students’ backstories. His carefree attitude makes you want to beat him up and drag him to the underground, to make him see with his own eyes how your people have suffered under his rule for so long.

“You’d be surprised at how many of Runeterra’s greatest artists and philosophers are one and the same,” he says, blissfully ignorant of your dislike of him. “In fact, the work I have for you might be more relevant to philosophy.”

The professor gestures at the fountain. “Our archives are filled with documents from deceased scientists, writers, and philosophers. They’ve provided invaluable knowledge from times past that we still utilize to this day. I’ve never understood why the Academy doesn’t extend these conservation efforts towards every facet of education. The arts may not be as structured as the sciences, but we must study them thoroughly. After all, the insights they provide are just as useful.”

Now he’s speaking your language. You nod along patiently, waiting for him to get to the point.

“This has been in the works for quite some time,” Heimerdinger says, his chest puffing up with pride. “The Academy has finally created a position dedicated solely to the preservation of art from ages past—a Restoration Artist.”

“That sounds great!” you say sincerely.

He smiles at you. “We were hoping to offer this esteemed position to you, young lady.”

His offer is quite the surprise, and you can’t help but feel a little flattered by his acknowledgment of your hard work. Working at the Academy definitely has its own appeal, but the glimmer in Heimerdinger’s eye is too hopeful, almost expectant.

“The Piltover Galleria would like their collection restored in time for a new exhibition opening next season. Under better circumstances, you’d have more time to consider this decision, but I’m afraid I must have an answer before the end of the month,” the yordle continues apologetically.

“Wait, would I be working for the Galleria or the Academy?” you ask, confused.

“The position is contracted with the Academy, but you would be working to aid both institutions,” Heimerdinger clarifies. “As leading figures of knowledge in Piltover, it’s only right that we circulate art in as many places as we can.”

You bite your lip, stopping yourself from asking why Topsiders never share their art belowground. Instead, you hum in thought, buying yourself time to consider your reply.

“Professor… I’m so honored you thought of me for the position,” you say carefully. “I can’t give you an answer right now, but I’ll let you know as soon as possible.”

“I do hope you’ll accept,” he beams at you.

After discussing the job’s logistics and conditions, you part ways with the professor. You reach the Piltover Bridge as the sun sets, drenching the sky in rich, blended streaks of orange and red. The sun dips into the river, a golden disc staining the dark waters before it sinks below the surface.

The dark silhouette of a tall, thin man leaning on the bridge’s railing stands out in stark contrast to the warm skies. You hurry towards him, excitement climbing in your heart. Silco’s attention seems focused on something beyond the horizon, but he glances towards you at the sound of your footsteps. His smile spurs you into a run, igniting your determination to close the distance between you even faster.

“Hi,” you grin at him, skidding to a stop at his feet.

“Hello, my lovely,” he says warmly.

He leans down to kiss your forehead, but you step back to scrutinize him: his face is bruised dark red and purple, a fresh swelling on the shelf of his cheekbone. Dried blood crusts at the corner of his lips.

“Are you okay?!” you ask, worried.

“Oh, this?” he asks nonchalantly. “This is nothing.”

“Does it hurt? What happened??”

“Just a chance encounter with some Enforcers. It’s nothing to worry about,” he says dismissively.

You can’t help but grimace in concern as you scan his injuries, reaching out to carefully wipe his mouth clean. “I hope you kicked their butts.”

“Of course,” he says, amused. He takes your hand, and you squeeze it before you start walking towards Zaun. “A good beating is no less than they deserve.”

“Are they still looking for you?” you ask, surreptitiously glancing around. The bridge is crowded with Topsiders and Zaunites alike, but there are no Enforcers in sight.

“Perhaps,” Silco says. “A gutter rat running circles around Piltover’s finest is quite a blow to their pride, after all.”

You laugh, even as you quicken your pace towards the elevators. “Have I ever told you that you’re my hero?”

He chuckles. “That’s the sweetest thing you’ve ever said, my lovely.”

“Do you still want to go to Powder’s birthday party tomorrow? If you want to skip—”

“These wounds aren’t enough to incapacitate me,” he says, but he furrows his brow as he ponders aloud. “Will she be put off by my injuries? I wouldn’t want to frighten her.”

“Silco, she’s a ‘gutter rat’ too,” you point out. “She’s probably seen a lot worse.”

He smiles in relief. “Then I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

It warms your heart to hear Silco being so protective of the little girl. Most adults in Zaun make little to no effort to protect children from witnessing violence, as it would do more harm than good to shield them from the harsh realities of living in the Undercity. But he’s grown to care for Powder, hoping to build a safer, better world for her to grow up in.

“I left my present for her at your home,” he continues. “I must thank you, once again, for holding onto it for me.”

“It’s no problem,” you say cheerfully. “What did you end up getting her?”

“A paintball gun.”

You laugh loudly at the thought of the little girl making a mess of her room. “Felicia and Connol are going to love that.”

“It’s about time she learned how to defend herself,” Silco says, but his grin is mischievous. His eyes are gleeful, twinkling with sparks of amusement as bright as birthday candles. “I intend to teach her how to shoot as well. Free of charge, of course. Her parents should be thanking me for my generosity.”

“They’ll thank you by asking you to babysit,” you chuckle. “Honestly, though, that’s a great gift. She’s going to love it.”

“I’ll come early to help set up the festivities,” he promises. “How did your meeting with the councilor go?”

“It was… good,” you say hesitantly. “He offered me a job.”

“Oh?” Silco raises an eyebrow.

“I’d be restoring old paintings for the Academy and Galleria… but I’m not sure I want to do it.”

“That’s quite the opportunity,” he says neutrally, biting the inside of his cheek. “What are your reservations?”

You groan when you recall the details the professor shared with you. “I wouldn’t be able to set my own hours, the pay isn’t much better, and they want me to move into Academy housing for some reason.”

“That seems excessive,” he frowns.

“Yeah,” you roll your eyes. “I just need to think of a polite way to turn it down… Oh, how’s this: ‘I’m more interested in working to improve the future of the Undercity than in preserving Piltover’s past’?”

“Well put,” he says with a darkly ironic laugh. “If the councilor asks you to elaborate, I could share some words with him as well.”

“I’ll bet you could,” you say cheekily.

You listen patiently during the elevator ride down into the Lanes as he launches into a monologue about how the people of the Undercity deserve better schooling and easier access to higher education. When you disembark, you take his hand and gently squeeze it, a silent reminder for him to lower his voice. Even as you try to focus on your surroundings, you can’t help but be entranced by the gravel of his voice, how it curls like smoke in your ear, how his words fill you with hope and fury in equal measure.

The two of you reach the end of the street when you hear it:

The menacing, familiar stomp of heavy-duty boots.

You catch a glimpse of four blue and gold uniforms as you grab Silco’s arm and drag him into an alleyway.

“What—?” he starts.

You pull him past a dumpster and carefully steer him backwards into a brick wall. Just as an Enforcer turns to look at you, you stand on tiptoe and kiss your boyfriend, eyes closed in fervent passion as you fist the collar of his jacket. Silco’s muffled noises of confusion turn to a moan as you flick your tongue into his mouth, tracing the edge of his chipped teeth. His hands pull you close, your waist pressed up against his ribs as he kisses you back. Not stopping even when the Enforcers’ footsteps fade away. You shrug your bag off your shoulders, dropping it carelessly to the ground.

“I know we’re having dinner later, but…” you say breathlessly, moving to kiss his neck. “…I kind of want dessert right now.”

“What did you have in mind?” Silco asks, swallowing hard as you gently nibble his earlobe.

Arousal curls in between your legs as you unbuckle Silco’s belt. You kiss his throat as you pull down his pants, his pulse hammering away under your lips. His cock springs free, already hard and twitching. You palm the flat planes of his chest as you sink to your knees, kissing the seam where his groin meets his thigh. You nuzzle there, deeply inhaling his sweat and musk, the thick and masculine scent intoxicating you. Placing your hands on his hips to hold him steady.

Silco’s breath stutters, his chest rising and falling erratically as you press light kisses to his balls. They hang heavy and pink, and you tease them with gentle kitten licks. His skin is smooth, almost succulent as you lavish him. Licking long, dripping strokes on the drooping shape of him before you latch onto his left ball and suck. He curses under his breath as he grabs your hair painfully, pulling at your roots. You nip him disapprovingly and he relents even as his thigh jolts at your ministrations. Satisfied, you move to his right and take him in your mouth, his ball laying gently on the flat of your tongue.

“Fuck!” he mutters above you.

You turn your eyes upwards at him, raising your eyebrows. Trying to remind him to stay quiet even as your own thighs clench involuntarily. His fingers twitch against your scalp when you take his shaft in your hand. Just letting your fingers curl around the base as you suck hard, careful to not let your teeth cut into him.

He whines out your name, his voice uncharacteristically high-pitched and pathetic. The sound thrills you as you pop off him and scoot back to readjust your position. His hips arch off the wall as his cock twitches, chasing the wet and warmth of your mouth. You take a moment to admire the desperate reddening of his cock, the tip leaking a long pearl of precum. The taste is salty as you lick it off, a delicious ambrosia that has you hungry for more.

You trace the shape of his tip with your tongue, licking under the ridge where it meets his shaft. Pressing another, gentle kiss to his dripping head before you latch on, then slide your lips down his shaft, taking more of him into your mouth. You try not to gag as he bumps against the roof of your mouth, breathing slow and deep through your nose as he slides down your throat. When he fists your hair again, you let him, a small generosity on your part as you swallow around him. Your nose presses against his core, his pelvic hair tickling your lip.

“Gods—please—” he pants out frantically. Your name stumbles from his lips, somehow reverential in his carelessness, pleading for mercy as his hold on his sanity slips. “Please let me fuck your mouth—”

You hum affirmatively. It breaks the last of his self-restraint and he thrusts excitedly into your mouth. Your eyes water as you fight off the urge to gag, holding your breath as his stutters above you. The raging, feral light in his eyes delights you as he bares his teeth, brows furrowed in a deep V as he uses you. Your hands fly to his hips again as you cling to him. Fighting to stay upright as his pale body blurs in your vision, still sucking hard on him all the while. 

Silco slams into you one last time before he cums, his cock pulsing against your throat, pouring molten salt that turns thick and bitter. You let go of his legs to massage his balls, encouraging him to empty himself entirely. Gratified to hear a deep, shuddering groan peel itself from the depths of his chest. Not stopping until his cock finally stills, softening in your mouth.

You swallow gratefully, slowly pulling off him. His cock drops out of your mouth to hang loosely between his legs. He catches himself on the wall before he sluggishly pulls his clothes back on, watching you with hazy, half-lidded eyes as you slowly get to your feet and wipe off your mouth.

The abrasive discomfort in your kneecaps has you leaning over to massage them, standing up only when Silco steps closer to you. His hands wind lazily around your waist as he pulls you close.

“Gods, you’re perfect,” he whispers, still out of breath. Kissing you indulgently, relishing in the taste of himself still lingering on your lips.

Your heart jumps in anticipation when his fingers slip underneath the waistband of your panties, your skin heating at his touch—

The dumpster scrapes loudly against the ground as something collides with it. Startled, you jump away from Silco and turn to look down the alley.

A man with rumpled hair and a stained shirt props himself up drunkenly on the dumpster’s lid. He swings a bottle of alcohol at you both, a sloppy toast as he pushes his glasses up his nose.

“Don’ stop on m’account,” the stranger slurs, laughing groggily at his own words.

Silco grabs your hand protectively and swipes your bag. He passes it to you as he walks swiftly out of the alley, pulling you close behind him. The stranger’s unintelligible protests dribble off as you hurry away.

“I’ll be sure to return the favor,” your boyfriend whispers to you.

Grinning, you sling your bag over your shoulder. Excitement rises in your heart at his promise as you squeeze his hand.

But your smile fades as you finally approach The Last Drop. Even though the pub should be open by now, the electric sign is shut off, a gray and dim void in the bustling Lanes. Fragments of broken glass are scattered by the entrance, a sharp and dangerous omen. One of the thin, rectangular panes matches a hole in the front door, having seemingly been knocked out.

“Fuck!” Silco curses. He lets go of your hand, striding forward to shove the door open, carelessly crushing the glass under his boots. You step carefully around the shards, pushing the door open hesitantly as fear drags your limbs to slowness.

You let out a sigh of relief when you see that the pub is only in mild disarray. Some furniture has been overturned, and several billiard balls have rolled into the far corners of the room, but that seems to be the full extent of the mess. The front door suffered a worse fate than anything else in the bar.

Silco paces the room impatiently, scanning the room to assess the damage. He’s much more agitated compared to his friends: Sevika sits in her usual booth with a cigarette between her lips, scowling at her lighter as it refuses to ignite. Vander mechanically sweeps up more broken glass. Benzo gingerly picks up a fallen chair. He sets it down, frowning as he shakes it. The shopkeeper sighs when one of the chair’s legs snaps in half, the furniture clattering to the floor.

“This chair’s done for,” Benzo calls out to the bartender. He waves a hand in greeting at you and Silco.

“What happened? Are you guys okay??” you ask, concerned.

“You should have sent for me,” Silco spits out angrily before anyone can answer your question.

“We’re alright, thanks,” Vander says calmly. “They roughed Sevika up, but they didn’t find anything. They never do.”

“Enforcers were here! Enforcers!” Silco yells, his fury searing the air. “You should have waited for us!”

Frightened, you take an involuntary step back from him. You’ve seen him angry before, but never at this volcanic temperature. Even when raging against Topside, he controls himself with a precisely sharpened discipline to turn himself into a weapon.

But now, he seems more animal than human.

Vander looks up at Silco, his gray eyes cool against his friend’s ire. “It was just another raid. This will blow over.”

“Don’t get your knickers in a twist, Silco,” Benzo says breezily. “Wouldn’t have made a difference if you were here.”

Your boyfriend turns to the shopkeeper, his lips peeling back in a snarl. “At least I know how to put up a fight.”

The larger man stands up and stomps over to Silco, getting in his face with an angry retort. The two men launch vitriol at each other, cutting words flying between them like hornets. Vander places a hand on your shoulder before you can intervene.

“I’ll handle this,” he says quietly, setting his broom against the bar.

You nod at Vander. He walks over to his friends, trying to quell their tempers.

A deep breath helps settle your nerves. You try to ignore the argument as you make your way to Sevika. She’s tucked herself deep into her usual booth, leaning against the wall. When you get a better look at her, she seems worse for wear, with rumpled clothing and disheveled hair falling in her face. Her cigarette illuminates a blooming bruise on her cheek.

“Are you okay?” you ask her quietly.

“Could use a drink,” she grunts out.

The twitch of her lips is subtle, almost imperceptible as she suppresses a wince. You look down to see her leg outstretched on the red cushion of the seat.

“Do you need ice?” You point to her leg, making sure she knows you’re not talking about the drink.

Sevika glares at you, daring you to fuss over her like any other wounded mercenary you’ve tended to after the Children’s meetings.

You hold her gaze steadily and cross your arms. 

She slumps back against the wall, dropping the facade as she lets out a pained hiss. “…yeah.”

You dart behind the bar and grab some ice cubes, placing them in a towel before you rush back to Sevika’s side. She takes the makeshift ice pack from you as you carefully undo her boots and pull off her sock. Her foot is bruised, an angry black and purple ring circling all the way around her ankle, puffy and swelling.

“It looks like a sprained ankle,” you muse. “Keep it iced and elevated. I’ll get you some painkillers—”

“Piss off,” Sevika says darkly.

You stick your tongue out at her as you pull a roll of bandages out of your bag. Despite her attitude, Sevika doesn’t protest as you wrap her ankle snugly, making sure it compresses the injury without being too tight.

“Have you eaten yet?” you ask Sevika.

She shakes her head as she ices her ankle, the grimace on her face lessening as she tends her injury. When you tell her that you’ll cook up her favorite for tonight’s dinner, she rolls her eyes. After glancing back at the men to see that they’re still arguing, you quietly slip away to the kitchen. 

As you begin prepping ingredients, you hope that your friends will join you soon. But almost half an hour passes before the growing rumble of footsteps and voices approaches the door. You turn to find Benzo holding the door open for Vander as he helps Sevika down the stairs.

“Where’s Silco?” you ask.

“He took off,” says Benzo.

“Where??”

“Not sure,” Vander says.

“Why was he so mad?” 

“We get raided every now and then,” Vander says. “Nothing to do but ride it out. Silco’s never missed one before, though.” 

You bite your lip, concerned. Knowing Silco, he’s probably at the river. As much as you want to drop everything and run to him, the clock on the wall tells you that the hour is late. It might be too dangerous to leave—

“He’s alright,” Vander says as he carefully lowers Sevika onto the couch. She grimaces as he lifts her ankle, draping it on the armrest. “Just needs to cool off.”

“You can keep his bed warm in the meantime,” Benzo chuckles.

“Speaking of beds, who was that lady you met yesterday?” you ask innocently.

Benzo throws up his hands defensively, saying loudly, “How was I supposed to know she was Sevika’s? Didn’t know she could pull a bird that pretty.”

“If you talk to ‘that bird’ again, I’ll kill you,” Sevika says vehemently.

Vander laughs heartily. He walks over to the stove to help you prepare the meal. Even without Silco’s company, you find yourself having a good time with your friends. You can’t help but worry about him, of course, but it’s only a small, gnawing kernel in your chest, easily ignored as you laugh at the men’s jokes and warn Sevika about the dangers of overexertion. When you crawl into Silco’s bed alone, you hold onto the hope that you’ll wake up in his arms.

A part of you regrets not going out to find him. But maybe the thing he needs right now is space from everyone. 

Hopefully he’ll be in a better mood tomorrow.

Unfortunately, he isn’t. 

───────────────── ●◉◎◈◎◉● ─────────────────

If you liked this fic, please reblog and/or leave a comment! My inbox is also open to requests for both sketches and drabbles, or just to chat. Feel free to say hi :3c

Chapter 17

[kirammansbow]

[ink-and-dagger]

do you have any silco x reader fic recs? both on ao3 and tumblr?

Oh boy do I.

I have zero time for reading these days (sob sob) so I'm sadly not at all familiar with any new fics post S2 being aired. But let me lay before you a sumptuous feast; lovingly prepared by the old guard of the Silco fucker society.

Reader's responsibility applies - please check tags etc etc..

Flawless - @a-gal-with-taste

An apt title, for Gal's writing is, indeed, flawless. Silco x Sex Worker!Reader. Absolutely brutal and beautiful - to me, Gal is the Angela Carter of the Silco fandom.

Here be Dragons // Hic Sunt Dracones - @sherwood-forests

This will always be one of my top recommends for a Silco x Reader fic. It's unlike anything else that I've seen in the fandom, and it reminds me of one of my favourite books Uprooted by Naomi Novik. Gives me the cosy feels.

Penance - @astudyincontrasts

Hands down the hottest, sexiest Silco fic in my opinion. If you enjoyed Fleabag or want to bang that priest from Midnight Mass then you need to get on this fic ASAP. To this day I cannot set foot in a church without getting horny. Thanks Study.

Secret Ingredient - @sweatandwoe

This is the Silco fic that made me want to write my own. DWM exists because of Sweaty. Domestic romance and drama of the absolute best kind.

Come Morning - @chickenparm

Parm has so many Silco fics and they are all incredible and required reading for the fandom. But I've chosen this one because it's so incredibly real and human, and will rip your heart to shreds.

Swapped - @silcoitus

I love seeing my blorbos in Situations™ and this is one hell of a Situation™ to find oneself in. Fun, funny, and full of tension. I get the pleasure of beta-reading this one, and I always have the best time squawking at Coi in the comments bar on google docs.

Go, Team! - @vasiktomis

This is actually Marcus x Reader x Silco and it's fucking genius. Vas is a genius and a pervert and I love them and they're my role model. Everyone absolutely has the right not to engage with content that they're not interested in but also if you don't read this fic then you're a coward.

Bend But Not Break - @constantfragmentation

This is a Jane Eyre retelling in the form of a Silco x Reader fic. Yeah that's right. Regency Silco. Emotional constipation cranked up to the max and coats with tails? Yes please. Ensure that you're near a fainting couch whilst reading because you will swoon.

Art in the Heart - @juniper-sunny

Juni was out here giving Young Revolutionary Silco his time in the spotlight long before he was ever animated. If you're a new to the fandom and have come here specifically because of young Silco then AITH is required reading. Head over to Juni's you'll be fed good.

To The Depths - @cognacandlilac

Full disclosure, I haven't actually had the chance to read this fic yet. But it has been on my TBR for an embarrassingly long time and every time I see a snippet I'm like "hot damn I need to get on this pronto" because I just know I'm going to be totally obsessed and consumed by it.

I've only picked one fic for each of the above but I would honestly recommend just tearing through the entirety of their fic lists because there are some absolute masterpieces in there. This is also far from an extensive list - there are so many incredible writers in the fandom and I'm so sorry for anyone I've missed off. I say this with my whole heart - the Silco fandom is easily one of the most talented and skilled corners of the internet. We may be fairly small in numbers compared to other characters/fandoms, but by God the art and stories we have are platinum quality.

[ace-of-zaun]

Kiss Me More. Pt 3:

silco x f!reader - 2.8k words - SFW

cw: angst, Silco being the most clueless mf to ever live (but he’s also a sweetheart, so we’ll forgive him just this once), fluff, Vander being lovely, mentions of poverty, arguments, references to sex, Seven is the actual worst, kind of an angsty end to the chapter (thought i'd mention it just in case)

PART 1 | PART 2 | PART 4

-

Silco has mentioned Seven and your date with him that many times in the past week, you’re genuinely starting to worry he’s got an unhealthy obsession with the boy. 

In fact, he’s brought it up so often, you can tell just by the way Silco takes a breath that he's going to start yet another rant about your situationship, prompting you to scuttle away from him the second he opens his mouth to speak. 

It doesn’t put you off going on your date. If anything, it makes you even more determined to push back against Silco and prove to him that you can do this, with or without his support.

So, you go on your second date with Seven. 

He’d somehow managed to visit you every single day at work following your first date, which caused a giddy, cherished sort of feeling the first two times it happened, but now kind of irritates you after eight consecutive days of it. 

Now, it just feels clingy and suffocating, and you’re getting slightly worried your boss is going to get mad at you for wasting time at work. 

Luckily, Seven hadn’t asked you to go swimming on your date, (or, skinny dipping, as Silco had told you was his actual meaning, approximately six thousand times). Instead, he’d walked you to one of the little piers overlooking the river, where you’d sat side by side and shared a simple picnic. 

It was nice. Mostly. 

Seven had pretty much just talked about himself the entire time (again), and had even interrupted you the one time you tried to tell him about the new vinyl you’d excitedly bought on sale at the market. (So what if you can’t play it or listen to it just yet, Seven, you’ll be able to afford a phonograph one day, and you can just admire the sleeve artwork until then!)

Towards the end of the date, he’d finally kissed you, softer than you were expecting after the bold way he’d previously tried to kiss you outside your apartment.

But there hadn’t been any butterflies, or that wonderful, little spark you’ve often heard people describing when they speak of their first kisses. (Kinda, sorta like the way you felt when you’d kissed Silco…)

Kissing Seven, you hadn’t really felt anything at all, except, slightly icky and a little bit disappointed.

So now, you arrive home from the pier on your own (Seven had apparently been too busy to walk you back this time) with a strange sort of empty feeling emanating from your chest. Like someone has stolen a couple of your ribs while you weren’t looking. 

But a warm sense of relief and delight quickly replaces that feeling when you spot Vander sprawled out on the sofa, arms spread out across the back, head tilted up to the ceiling. 

It’s rare to see him at home, what with his long hours down the mine and evenings tending the bar. And it shows. Tired eyes and limbs betraying just how shattered he must be after all those hours of work. 

You’re desperate to tell him to give up the extra shifts at the bar. But you’re genuinely not sure if the three of you would be able to stay together without it. Maybe you should ask if you could pick up some of his shifts instead, give him a few nights off. Janna knows he deserves it.

Vander looks up when you gently click the front door closed, sitting up properly while you toe off your shoes to join the line along the wall. 

“Hey, you’re home,” you say. 

“I am,” he replies, easy smile to mask his exhaustion. “How was your date?”

Part of you had hoped he’d forgotten so you wouldn’t have to talk about it. But Vander’s far too thoughtful for that. 

“Ah, you know…” you say, looking down at your feet bashfully. 

“That bad?”

“I wouldn't say bad.” You sigh, dropping down next to him on the sofa.

You rest your head against his shoulder, tucking your feet under your legs in an attempt to get comfortable. Vander places his arm around your shoulder and gently pulls you towards him, until you’re leaning against his side.

You’ve always secretly thought of him as your wise, older brother. The one who always knows what to say and how to say it. The person you can always rely on.

"But not good?" he asks, genuinely. 

This time, the sigh you give feels like it radiates from your whole body. 

“It’s just…I didn’t expect any of it to feel like this, I thought I was supposed to feel…”

You don’t really know, to be honest. You’ve only ever heard people describe their experiences with love or dating, so you’re not completely sure what you’re supposed to feel. 

But something deep down is telling you, ‘not like this’.

“Feel what, lass?” Vander prods gently. 

“I don’t know,” you finally admit. 

Van nods in understanding, gently tapping your bicep twice before rubbing up and down your arm soothingly. 

“Maybe you just need a bit more time to get to know him,” he says, offering you the advice you’d been too nervous to ask for. “D’ya think you’ll see him again?”

You tilt your head to the side, worrying your lip with your pointer finger and thumb. 

“He asked me to go on another date with him tomorrow,” you say, pushing down the fact it feels like a shameful confession. “I said yes but-”

And then Silco storms into the room, looking like he’s spitting nails. 

“You're not seriously going on another date with that greasy-haired freak?" he demands, apropos of absolutely nothing. 

Immediately, you push yourself from Vander’s embrace to sit up and glare at him. Trust Silco to ruin the nice moment you were having. 

“Seriously, what have you got against him?”

Silco ignores you, clearly on a rampage that could only be fuelled by pure insanity. 

“You can't go on another date with him,” he announces firmly. 

"What? Why?" 

You wait, with a truly impressive amount of patience if you do say so yourself, for Silco to explain himself. To present his infallible, incredibly coherent, astonishingly well-thought out argument as to why you can’t go on another date with the person you are currently dating. 

"Because he's gross,” he says. 

You could really, honestly smack him. 

"No, he's not." 

"I don't think you should see him anymore," he continues. 

“Silco. I’m not a child, you can’t just tell me what to do,” you say, feeling the anger beginning to bubble away inside you. Silco knows exactly how to push your buttons and he knows it. 

“Yes, I can,” he argues, arms crossed against his chest. 

You narrow your eyes dangerously. 

“No, you can’t.” 

“Alright, that’s enough, you two,” Vander interrupts before one of you tackles the other and turns the argument into a childish scrap in the middle of the room.

Sil huffs dramatically and uncrosses his arms. Then, clearly not knowing what to do with them as they hang awkwardly by his side, he decides to cross them again. 

“Fine. I wasn't going to say anything, but I spoke to a guy at the mines who knows him and he's… got a bit of a reputation."

"What do you mean, ‘reputation’?"

"I mean, he's dated just about every girl in the Undercity," Silco stresses.

You frown at this new information, but honestly, deep down, you don’t really care. Even the mental image of Seven kissing other people doesn’t spark that jealousy in you that it did when you’d pictured Silco experiencing his first kiss. 

But admitting that to him feels like defeat so instead you say, "Well, maybe he just hasn't found the one yet." 

Silco scoffs obnoxiously.

"What, and you think you're the one?" he says sarcastically. His tone is a little bit on the mean side. Like he’s implying that you’re not good enough for Seven.

And honestly, it stings. It hurts and it makes you angry. You thought after all these years that Silco cared about you, that he wanted the best for you. 

But all he’s done for the past few weeks is question you constantly when all you needed was just a little support from your best friend.

And, gods, you know that you don’t really mean any of it, but there’s a burning, horrible impulse to hurt Silco like he’s been hurting you, so you stand up to face him square on.

"And what if I am, huh?” you begin.

Of course, Silco immediately goes to interrupt, but you steamroll ahead. 

“You know what, Silco, maybe I’ll just go and stay with him if you’re that wound up about it. Actually, yeah.” You purse your lips and shrug your shoulders nonchalantly, before looking him dead in the eye. “No need to wait up for me after my date tomorrow, I’ll just stay at his for the night.”

Silco looks absolutely horrified, face draining at the implication (that you don’t mean at all, honestly, you can’t think of anything worse than spending the night with Seven). 

But Silco doesn’t have to know that.

He steps forward a little and says your name, really quite desperately.

“Wait-”

There’s no way you’re letting him get the last word, so you stalk out the living room and into your bedroom without a backward glance, slamming the door shut behind you for good measure.

You drop onto your bed, desperately trying not to cry as you slap your hands over your face, like it’ll hold everything in. 

You just don’t get why Silco is acting like this. 

And the more time you spend with Seven, the more sure you are that he’s actually quite a repulsive, self-centered person. But you don’t know how to fix any of this mess you’ve gotten yourself into and all you really want is your best friend back. 

You just want everything to go back to the way it was.

Is that too much to ask? 

-

You haven’t spoken a word to Silco since your argument. Even after Vander had carefully explained that Silco probably didn’t mean what he’d said, you don’t want to hear it. The hurt is still too raw to forgive him yet. 

Everything has changed since you kissed. Now, your heart does this breathtaking little flip in your chest every time you see him, and all you can think about is kissing him again. But you're dating Seven and it's not like Silco likes you anyway, so there’s no point in entertaining it. 

Gods, you wish you could just stop feeling like this. 

You force yourself to go on another date with Seven, even though you had originally been planning on cancelling when you were talking about it to Vander. Now, you’re going just to spite Silco. 

So that’s how you find yourself walking through the city’s sprawling market stalls with Seven, kinda wishing you were anywhere else. You’re not really buying any of the products for sale because neither of you can afford much of anything at the moment, which just makes you feel all deflated. 

And Seven is holding your hand as you stroll along, but honestly, you wish he wasn’t. His hands are a bit sweaty and he’s gripping your knuckles just a bit too tightly for comfort. You have to keep letting go to wipe your hand on your leg and it’s starting to get really quite embarrassing. 

Just as you’re on the cusp of deciding whether to fake some kind of horrific illness or whether it’d be too dramatic to just flee Zaun and adopt a whole new identity, you’re saved by a tall figure stumbling into your side.

You only just manage to stop yourself from tripping to the ground, thankfully righting yourself before you can fall, just to look up in confusion at-

Silco. Who looks down at you with the most unapologetic expression you’ve ever seen in your life.

It’s clear he’s followed you because why else would he be in the market, he hates the market when it’s busy. He once said he’d rather run naked through the streets of Piltover in front of the Council building than risk the ‘throngs of dawdling idiots’ on a busy market day. 

"Hey, fancy bumping into you!” Silco acts surprised, completely over the top and almost embarrassingly unconvincing. He’s not getting a job in the Piltie theatre anytime soon, that’s for sure. 

Then, his expression drops when he glances at Seven, like there’s suddenly a bitter, bitter taste in his mouth. “Oh. What’s he doing here?”

You resist the urge to scream, finally letting go of Seven’s hand to step away from him.

"Silco-" 

"We're on a date." Seven finally speaks, looking thoroughly annoyed at the interruption. Even more annoyed than when Silco was rude to him outside your apartment. 

"Really?" Silco questions. He looks pointedly at the distance between the two of you and then stares obstinately at Seven. "Doesn't look like it to me." 

"Look, mate-" 

Silco cuts him off with deadly sharp precision. 

"You know, Six, I think we have a mutual acquaintance," he says, timbre turning positively dangerous. "Her name’s Lia. Works at the mines? That ring any bells in your dense, little head?" 

At this, Seven’s face pales. Rapidly. 

"Never heard of her," he insists, far too quickly to be anything but a lie. 

Then, he turns to you, snatching up your hand again. 

"Let's go, doll, we don’t have to put up with this." 

Silco’s expression darkens immeasurably, clenching his fists by his sides as he steps forward, but you beat him to the punch, ripping your hand out of Seven’s grasp. 

Fuck this. 

"You know what, I've just remembered that there's something that I need to do," you snap, borderline shouting over them when they both jump to speak. "Alone." 

Turning on your heel, you stalk off in the opposite direction, automatically heading towards the River without even really thinking about it. It’s the place you usually end up when you need to clear your head, and right now, you just need some peace and quiet.

You’re only a few streets away from the market when you hear Silco following you, knowing after all these years the loping strides of his gait by heart. When he makes no sign of stopping, you take a deep breath and turn to face him. 

"Please don’t." 

He says your name pleadingly but you shake your head. 

"I don't want to hear it, Silco," you say, a wave of exhaustion sweeping your bones.  

You’re far, far too tired for this.

"But he's-" 

"Why are you going out of your way to sabotage this for me?" you ask, absolutely detesting the way your voice wobbles on the last few words. 

Silco’s expression flickers, clearly torn between giving you space and stepping forward to comfort you. He ends up shoving his hands into his pockets defensively, but not without inching just that little bit closer to you. 

"I'm not trying to sabotage anything, I'm just trying to protect you," he replies, tone soft. An attempt at reassurance. 

"From what?" you ask.

"From getting hurt.”

He bites his lip, determined and desperately worried all at once. 

You sigh heavily, scrubbing a hand over your face.  

"I just don't get it, Sil, I don't get why you're doing all this," you say, letting your arms drop wearily by your side. 

He seems almost startled by your need for an explanation, uncharacteristically sheepish for the briefest moment as you watch him expectantly. 

"I… I just…" 

And then, as you continue to wait, his expression shutters, turning stony and closed off, and you know you’re not going to get anything from him now. Certainly not anything honest or in the least bit vulnerable. 

You bite your lip hard to stop the burning tears from falling. 

"Just go home, Silco," you say. You sniff back the tears, dejected but accepting. "I'll see you later.”

It breaks your heart to watch the way his shoulders slump but his expression still doesn’t crack. And he still doesn’t say a word when you slowly turn and walk away from him. He doesn’t stop you. 

The next few days feel like a haze of misery; a looping, unfathomable rhythm of going to work and returning home in silence, trying to ignore the way he watches you walk through the flat with a terribly lost expression, like you’ve slipped from his grasp.

You can’t bring yourself to talk to him, even though it physically hurts you to ignore him like this, the irony of not being able to talk to the one person who you can always go to. 

And with Vander gone so often, you’re left to just sit silently in your bedroom, staring at the cracks in the ceiling, wondering where the hell it all went wrong. 

PART 4

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a/n: I’m sorry for such an angsty end to this chapter, lots of fluff and comfort in the next one, i promise!! (and this story will def have a happy ending, i think i’m physically incapable of writing sad endings, it’s just not in my dna)

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super secret taglist 😎: @oceansssblue, @inolaphoenix , @holographicgarden , @darlingimafangirl , @rainyforest777 , @kikiiswashere , @deviantgamergirl , @miffysoo , @eternallyvenus

[local-crying-boy]

Hiii!! and would you write Silco x reader who’s really affectionate? I hope you have a wonderful day!!!

🅂🄸🄻🄲🄾

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𝙿𝚊𝚒𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐: 𝙿𝚊𝚜𝚝!𝚂𝚒𝚕𝚌𝚘/ 𝚙𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚎𝚗𝚝!𝚂𝚒𝚕𝚌𝚘 𝚇 𝙶𝚎𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛 𝙽𝚎𝚞𝚝𝚛𝚊𝚕!𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛

𝙶𝚎𝚗𝚛𝚎: 𝙷𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚌𝚊𝚗𝚗𝚘𝚗𝚜 + 𝙾𝚗𝚎-𝚜𝚑𝚘𝚝, 𝚎𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚋𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚑𝚎𝚍 𝚛𝚎𝚕𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜𝚑𝚒𝚙

𝚆𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜: 𝚗𝚘𝚗𝚎

𝚆𝚘𝚛𝚍 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚝: 1.1k

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When Silco was younger, before Felicia and Connel's death and before he and Vander went their separate ways, he was more reciprocal towards your affections.

At this point of his life he was, mostly, spared from the true horrors of betreyal and loss so he, really, had no reason to deny your affections.

In public, he was less 'touchy-feely', he made it known that he wasn't one for PDA

However around your little group of friends he was more inclined to hold hands with you, put an arm around your shoulder, a hand on our thigh or knee.

Then there was how he acted behind closed doors, he matched your affectionate nature almost ten fold.

While you were known to be the affectionate one, there was the odd time where he would subtly go and initiate the affection. However, most times, it went unnoticed by the others and you were truly the only one who knew that he did, in fact, like the physical touch.

The faint sound of music echoed throughout the bar, a familiar night to all five of the adults. You and Silco were sitting by the bar, he was writing wordlessly in his journal while you listened into the conversation that Felicia, Connol and Vander were having. Vander was behind the bar, having just finished pouring drinks for the group, an arm leaning on the counter, while Felicia and Connol were a few seats away from you and Silco. The three of them were indulged in a conversation, one of which Silco was not that focused on. Your arms were leaning on the part of the counter that was in front of you, eyes taking in the cosy sight of your group talking and hanging out without, seemingly, a care in the world. It was a frequent sight, yes, but one that always made your brain spur with Dopamine. Your hand inched its way closer to Silco's, your pinkie just barely brushing against his. He didn't fully turn to look, but you could see how his eyes glanced over for a split second, even with the long, strand of his hair covered the side of his face. His hand moved a little closer to yours, allowing you to interlock both of your smaller fingers together. Your head soon found itself tilting to the side of you where Silco just so happened to be sitting, shifting your position once you felt it gently land on his shoulder. You heard the barely audible, amused breath that escaped his lips, but the man made no effort to move you off of him. "Comfortable there?" He asked, his voiced laced with a teasing tone. You hummed happily, watching as he continued scribbling in the book that you were beginning to see everyday. "Very." "You cannot last two minutes without coming up close to me," He scoffed faintly, but there was no true malice in his words. "Can you?" "Don't act like you don't enjoy it." You chuckled out, head moving ever so slightly to look up at him, even though you couldn't exactly see his face from where you laid your head. His eyes moved from his book to fixated on yours, a smirk pulling on his lips. "I never said I didn't." The two of you fell silent, the perfect time for you to lean up and plant a soft kiss upon his lips, which he happily returned once he felt it.

Although, all good things come to an end eventually, of course.

When Vander attempted (and almost succeeded) killing Silco, he started to become more closed off then he usually was, even behind closed doors.

Consumed by the thought that the people he trusted ended up betraying him, and by the fact that any last piece of innocence he was able to retain even from living in the Undercity was gone, he was cold. Distant. Alone, it seemed.

He would really only reciprocate your affection with a gentle touch that lasted too short.

However, it did not mean he didn't not like your affectionate nature. It was quite the opposite, actually.

Silco was oftentimes cooped up in his office, it was a normal occurrence, and one that you had come quickly acquainted with. He was a busy man, and you had your own business to attend to, regardless. The time the two of you were able to spend together only grew less and less over the years, however, that was just how things turned out and there was not much to be done about it. You made your way to his office, it was late, but you knew that he was still going to be there, he usually was after all. You gave a quick knock on the door, before opening it up and poking your head through. “What is it?” He asked, his tone harsh and cold, not lifting his head up to look at you when the door creeeeaked open. You put your hands up in a mock surrender, a little chuckle escaping your lips. “Only me.” He paused for a moment, the pen in his hand halting from its writing before he looked up at you. “It’s late, what are you doing here?” You gave him a small shrug, walking further into the room after you shut the door, making your way over to his desk. “I haven’t seen you all day.” "I've been busy." The seated man simply said, his eyes falling back down to what he was writing. You said nothing in reply, there wasn't much you could say in response to that - it was a fact that he was busy, and you knew there was little you could do to help said fact. Instead of speaking, you made your way over to his desk, then behind and beside where he sat. You looked over what he was doing, but did not bother to pretend to know exactly what he was doing. He had both his arms leaning on the desk in front of him, which allowed you to slowly move onto the arm rest on his chair, sitting on it. It was not all that comfortable, but you were only planning to stay there for a few moments. Like a hundred times before, you side leaned into his, head resting on the back of his chair. You expected little to none reciprocation of your affection since you noticed that frustrated furrow in his brow, one that was a clear sign to you that he was just trying to finish his work. However, with your eyes fixated on some random detail in his office, you felt one of his hands lightly touch your knee. One of the most forms of affection you found yourself getting these days.

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