#Silco fic

[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

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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. 

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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

[gingernut1314]

Like Seahorses Do ch. 9

Summary: Silco comes up with a plan to bring Viktor's father back home. A plan that goes wrong.

Content: female reader, gendered terms, pre-season 1 arcane, young Vander, young Silco, young Sevika, young reader, young Felicia, young Connol, baby Vi, Nadia & Nikolai are Viktor's parents, canon typical violence (lots of fighting in this one), guns/blood, more feelings confessing, reader has water manipulation, smoking, slight Arcane season 2/League of Legends spoiler (Janna, Felicia & Connol)

Word Count: 8.9K

Tag List: @miffysoo , @teriyakiitae , @locinne , @equaniimouxx , @cipher-nine

@shi-toshi , @sebastianlover

A/N: ....heyyy....so....it's been a mintue...sorry...life is been a bit crazy and the fandom hopping, I can't help it 😭 buutt have an extra long chapter as my apology!! I hope you all enjoy!

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Act 3

“We’ve gone on more dangerous jobs Topside than finding and bringing back poor Nikolai.” Silco huffed from where he stood before the bar at The Last Drop the next night. Connol and Felicia stood on his left side, while you and Sevika stood on the other, all huddled up tight as you tried to come up with a plan to get Nikolai back to the Lanes without paying that damn toll. “We’d be in and out before the sun even rose.” 

“I know we’ve been on more dangerous jobs. I know it’d be quick. But that’s it--we. Not you two alone.” Vander huffed right back at him as he mixed up a drink. Benzo, who was also working behind the bar, reached across Vander to grab a whiskey bottle. 

“I don’t know, Vander. Maybe it’s for the best they go it alone.” Benzo started as he reached with his other hand for three shot glasses. “Better only two get sent to Stillwater than all of us.” Benzo teased, making Silco frown deeply his way.

“How ‘bout you shut your gob and pass me one of those.” You insisted, stretching passed Silco to lean on the bar top, holding a hand of wiggling fingers out for Benzo to do as you said. But Benzo did the exact opposite of handing you a shot and began to laugh his ass off at you.

“Gob? You call that an insult?” You furrowed your brows at him.

“It’s--yes.” You hissed. “Gob like a mouth like--” You glanced towards Felicia for help but she had turned her eyes towards where Vi was rushing about the bar, causing chaos that most didn’t seem to mind. 

Connol was the one who caught your eye, rubbing a hand over his short-cropped hair a few times as he shrugged.

“That's not half bad. You know why, Zozo.” Connol started, a bit of playfulness shining in his eyes you all rarely saw. He was more the stoic type, but Felicia had seemed to soften his rugged edges a bit. 

Benzo made a greatly displeased face at Connol. “Zozo, aw gods that horr--” 

“Cause in the mining world a gob is where we put all the extra waste.” Connol chuckled an airy thing. You cracked a wicked grin, a high laugh on your lips.

“Agreed. Stop spewing such utter waste about the plan and focus.” Silco coldly shot Benzo’s way, the man seeming to have traded his smile for Silco’s frown. 

“Zozo, don’t let them get to you.” Felicia butted in, taking her eyes off Vi for a moment to throw Benzo a kind smile. 

“Gods, Zozo again!” Benzo groaned, passing the shots to the three awaiting customers. Felicia shook her head with a smirk as she looked back towards the rest of you all. 

“No one’s getting thrown into Stillwater though. I think--” The sound of shattering glass, a sharp hey!, and a very angry toddler’s babish, yet strangely mean words cut Felicia off. “Oh! Ah! Sorry! Vi. No, no!” She rushed off towards her now screeching three-year-old, Connol watching the whole scene in amusement. 

“Can we focus?” Sevika hissed, blowing a stream of smoke from her lungs. “I’ll go with them. How about that?” She huffed Vander’s way, who was still looking all too concerned about this small little trip. 

“I guess--”

“No,” Silco cut his brother off, making a spark of that wolfish anger flash through Vander’s eyes. “Sevika is to go speak with her father. Gather him and his men to our cause. We need the muscle.” 

“No fucking way I’m going to speak with that old bastard.” Sevika slammed her fist on the bar top beside where you had been leaning your hands. She bent down to all but grit her teeth in your face. “Just cause you two are back to being joined at the lips doesn’t mean you can go around tellin’ him my personal shit.” She hissed in your face, the remaining smoke from her lungs blowing into your face.

“I told him when you told me years ago. I didn’t know what a secret was then, Vika.” You bit back.

“And that’s supposed to make it any better?” She pulled away with a shake of her head. “Good fucking grief, guppy.” 

“Wait--lips?” Felicia popcorned back in, a fighting and red-faced Vi in her arms. “You two kissed? Again? No fight after? When?” She demanded, passing Vi off to Connol who got a cubby little fist to the jaw.

You thought back to how he’d kissed you last night. How he’d held your jaw so gently. How his lips had fit so perfectly against yours. Too perfectly. How he’d kissed you before saying goodnight and how he’d kissed you after he’d come back from work this morning. How he’d taken your hand and pulled you around the corner to kiss you before you two had joined the group in here.

“Uh--” You stammered, brain buzzing in the memory of them all. “We--the plan. We need to refocus on the plan.” You managed, glancing up at Silco to find that a dusting of pink had spread over his cheeks. Seafoam eyes looked over your face. Eyes that lingered ever so slightly on your lips.

Gods. You almost grabbed him then to give him an even closer view.

“I agr--” Silco could hardly finish his word before Sevika was speaking again.

“Just last night. Heard her telling Nadia all the hot and heavy details.” Sevika smirked making your heart spike sharply in your chest in slight panic. Felicia gave a delighted gasp, eyes glancing between the two of you.

“Tell me, tell me please.” She reached across the way to grab your hand and give it a little tug. 

“Sevika is overexaggerating it.” You grit, shooing Felicia’s hand away. “It wasn’t--well it was hot but I wouldn’t say it was heavy,” Felicia giggled and you couldn’t help but let your fluttering stomach pull one from you too. Silco said your name exasperated. “Oh--sorry.” You gave Silco a little apologetic shrug. “I still don’t think I’m very good at keeping secrets.” 

“It’s not a secret.” Silco huffed, wrapping his arm around your shoulders so that he could pull your back flush against his chest. You wrapped your hand around his wrist as your stomach gave a giddy little flutter. 

Not a secret. 

It was a sentiment that made you feel all warm inside.

“But what we do is none of you nitwits concern.” Silco hissed it around the small huddle of your friends, who all wore various different looks of amusement. “Besides, it’s only been a day.” 

“How long have you two known each other?” Sevika sounded like she’d grown bored of this conversion, but one look at her face showed the mischief still raging in her eyes. 

“Ten years.” You and Silco both responded without so much as a moment of hesitation. It only made Felicia’s smile wider. 

“Ten years of friendship and annoyingly pining over each other. I’d say it’s reason enough to fuck.” Sevika very bluntly said. A bluntness that had your face feeling like you’d shove it into a pot of boiling water and Silco’s grip around you tightened the slightest bit.

“You’re godsdamn lucky Nadia isn’t here to scold you.” You hissed, giving her a shove that didn’t even move a single hair on her head. 

“It’s good to go slow.” Felicia chimed in, dodging another flying fist from her kid. “Otherwise you might end up with a perfect little boxer.” She grabbed Vi’s chubby cheeks and littered it with kisses. Vi complained but held still to receive the affection. 

Your heart hallowed out enough it loosened your hold on that nagging voice in the back of your mind.

You had slept with people you had had zero feelings for outside of an appreciation of their looks. You knew Silco had too so you couldn’t help but think should you have? 

There was no question in your mind about whether or not you wanted to. You did. Oh gods you did but a relationship like this with your good friend and someone you’d liked for such a long time was different. You didn’t know a single thing about being in a serious relationship.

Was this serious?

Was this--

“Again,” Silco began, his thumb rubbing over your exposed collarbone in a way that had you forgetting about that nagging little voice. “It is none of your concern.” He leveled Sevika with a threat-filled glare she gruffed at but lowered her gaze to. 

“Well--all I’ll say is it's about damn time.” Benzo chimed in, a friendly smile on his face. “Better than you two squabbling all the time.” He slid a shot down the way for you, just as you had asked moments ago. 

“Now,” Vander spoke once more, a happy little smile on his lips and a gleeful sparkle in his eyes that had quelled the wolf altogether. “Silco, rework the plan. You two won’t go alone but we do need to get Nikolai.” Silco huffed at this. 

“If we send Sevika, Connol, and Benzo to meet with Sevkia’s father--” Sevika cut Silco off with a growl.

“I said I’m not gonna mee--”

“I don’t wish to make ya go meet with him, Sevika, but we need all the support we can get.” Vander started, beginning to make a fresh drink. “The situation at the border is only going to get worse. We all know that. Would you like me to go instead?” Sevika watched him for a long moment, gray eyes hard and top lip twitching in her anger. 

“No. He won’t speak with you.” She took a long, deep drag of her blunt. “Fuck it. Whatever. Next part of the plan.” 

“We three can go find Nikolai.” Silco gestured to Vander, you, and himself. “Nadia said their friend's home is one street up from the northernmost bridge. We’ll have to cross the river and hope Nikolai stays put.” 

“And how are we gonna get ‘cross the river?” Vander asked, placing a little flower on the top of the drink he had just made before passing it to a girl down the way. He came back over, a few coins in hand. 

Silco looked to you and you to him. 

You were the plan to get across the river. You were going to use your magic to create a small bubble of air for Silco so that you could swim him across under the water. That way no one would see you.

But now, with the added mix of Vander who knew nothing of your powers, would complicate things. You hadn’t really ever planned on telling him of them. Telling any of your friends about them. Magic wasn’t something people tended to think fondly of. 

“We’ll swim across of course.” Vander raised a brow at Silco’s almost too-cocky words. 

“You can’t swim.” Silco shrugged. 

“She’s been teaching me.” Vander continued to watch you both with an “I’m not believing this for two seconds” look. “It’ll be fine. Just go with it.” 

“What about me?” Felicia asked. “I want to be involved too. I can still kick ass with a baby strapped to my chest. She’ll help too.” Silco looked to Vander who both then looked to Felicia. 

“Well, the plan was you would go stay with Nadia.” This only earned Silco a sharp glare. 

“So I’m stuck on babysitting duty?” Felicia snapped. 

“It is your ankle bitter.” This only earned you an equally as sharp glare. 

“It’s not just my ankle bitter.” Felicia shoved her pink-painted pointer finger into Connol’s shoulder, pulling a small ow from his lips. “Why don’t you stay on babysitting duty, huh?” 

“Babe, I would much rather watch Vi then go meet with Sevika’s papa.” Connol readjusted his grip on his kid, who was now trying to throw herself backward out of his arms. 

“Alright then. Change the plan.” Felicia gestured to Silco to do so.

“This is the last time I am involving you all in the creation of any plan. I am the plan maker. I make the plans.” Silco gruffed her way, but Felicia only threw him a wink. “Fine. Connol will stay with Nadia and Vi and Felicia will go with Sevika and Benzo. There. Do we all agree on the plan?” Everyone in the group gave a round of nods and sounds of agreement. 

“I still would like to know how we’re going to get ‘cross the river,” Vander said. You grabbed for the shot Benzo had given you and held it up his way.

“You’ll like it. It’ll be fun.” And you downed the burning liquid in one go.

“All this talk of crossing rivers reminds me of this old song my mom used to sing to me before bed…oh how did it go.” Felicia mused, looking over her daughter's face in thought. A soft, not very in-tune hum sounded from Connol, pulling Felicia’s eyes to him. 

“That one?” Felicia beamed up at him with a nod. “Popular amongst our parents huh?” 

“What else is there to do besides get crafty when Topside locks you completely out?” Felicia muttered, eyes squinting a bit in further thought before her whole face lit up once more on a small gasp. “Oh! Got it!” And she began singing the lyrics to the tune Connol had started. Her voice was beautiful and instantly caught the attention of Vi, who was rightfully transfixed with it. 

A deep, buried part of you knew you’d heard it before. A deep part of you that didn’t even feel like it was supposed to be you, but it was there nonetheless. It remembered you of that tugging, calling you’d followed to save all those kids years ago. 

It was something that scared you. That made you feel--other. Other than human. Other than a living breathing being and more like a cold, watery thing that was called around by the arcane.

You instantly snuggled deeper into Silco’s chest, needing to be reminded that you were in fact, standing there with him. To feel him hold your physical body that was breathing. That was living. 

Silco was glad to hold you closer. Glad to move his hand around to find yours, intertwining his long fingers with yours. 

“Lullabies get you nowhere.” Sevika hissed, stubbing out the small bit of her blunt left in the ashtray before her. “Our parents were cowards.” 

“Good thing we aren’t.” Silco gave your hand a squeeze. 

Your grip on Silco’s hand tightened as you yanked him sharply behind a few stacked crates on the Undercity’s side of the river. It seemed that blocking the bridges off hadn’t been enough, they had needed to send enforcers patrolling the wharf as large spotlights illuminated the surrounding areas in search of any that might be trying to cross.

You two had expected there might be a stray enforcer or two. That you would have to work fast as soon as Vander joined you to get across in case someone spotted you. 

But this many enforcers--it was as if you had kicked a bee hive and sent all their drones on high alert. 

You hadn’t expected this and Silco definitely hadn’t, otherwise it would have been put into his plan. A plan that was currently going way off course. So off course it had made Silco’s caltualting brain freeze, nearly getting him spotted by one of those enforcers had you not dragged him back here. 

You’d known Silco to freeze up like this before. Mainly during jobs you two and Vander did Topside that didn’t go as planned. 

He froze when he was scared too. Vander had told you of his worry about it a while ago. How it’d almost gotten him killed down in the mines during cave-ins. 

You thought it was cute. Gave you something you could do for him. Had let you get close to him before you two caved to your feelings.

“Gods--” Silco gave a frustrated little sound as you slowly peeked around the crates, finding a group of three enforcers had stopped just a little ways away from you. “I--sorry.” You waved the apology off as one of the enforcers started complaining about how she was going to miss the game tonight cause she was stationed here.

“Ugh--I’ll never get over how fucking dull Pilties are.” You murmured, pulling back to a crouch before Silco, who you’d all but thrown against the crates, long legs sprawled to the sides and hair scrunched against the salt-stained wood. “It’s like they’re programmed to all think and talk about the same shit. Oh yes, let's go toss that egg-shaped ball and give each other concussions. Or, or! The spouse is nagged at me to lose some weight again. And blah, blah, blah.” You gave a goofy smile Silco’s way, to which he only continued to stare up at you nearly dumbfounded. 

“I--you know I almost just got us caught right?” Silco pulled himself up a bit from his thrown position. “I froze.” You shrugged.

“And? It would have been fun, huh?” You shuffled closer so that you could lean closer to him. “High stakes. Fast chase. We would have beat them obviously.” The corner of Silco’s lips pulled upward. A small tug that pulled into that easy smile you liked to see him look at you with.

He dug his hand into the inside pocket of his jacket and as he pulled it out, the smallest flash of gold caught your eye. 

You thought for a moment he had pulled the flask you had given him out, but what he held was too small and easily concealed within his palm. 

“What do you have?” You asked, shuffling ever closer. “Something shiny.” Silco gave a small exhale of amused air.

“How did you even see that?” You shrugged.

“I like gold. I like shiny. I like shiny gold. I’ve trained my eyes to spot it.” Silco gave another small chuckle.

“You remember the second time you, me, and Vander snuck our way Topside? Back when we were kids?” You nodded, eyeing up his fist to try and spy what he held within it one last time. 

“You convinced Vander that going to the beach was a risk worth taking after the job we pulled.” You mused and you thought of those beaches. How clean they had been. How the waters, even though they were connected to the same grand sea, had sported not a single speck of trash. How the sands had been yellow-white and full of the most gorgeous shells you had ever seen. 

It was found memory for you, being able to see such beautiful waters, but a memory tinted in bitterness towards the people who wished to rule over you all completely. 

Your beaches and waters were nothing like theirs, even when they were so close. Even when they were made from the same lands and waters. Yet yours were full of toxins so potent it left stains on a person if left in them too long. That corrupted one's body--ate away at it. Toxins so strong they had left the sandy beaches a pitch black. 

You loved your waters, but seeing how--natural everything was Topside had left a sour taste in your mouth.

“And you remember that small sand dollar you found and I foolishly broke?” The anger at Piltover simmered in the background of your mind as Silco continued to recount the trip. “Instead of getting upset, you gave me a half. Said it would be a physical showing of our friendship.” 

“I do remember.” You nodded, though your heart sank a small bit. “I--Silco, I lost my half.”

“No, you didn’t.” You blinked at him. Then again. 

“How would you--”

“I might have snuck into your apartment…took it off your bedside table.” You gapped at him. 

“How--Sevkia would have killed you if she had seen you break in.” Silco tossed you a cocky little smirk. 

“You two don’t get off work till seven. I get off at five. I had time. And you really should change the hiding place for your spare key. Very obvious.” You rolled your eyes and gave his shoulder a small shove. 

“You gonna give me my half back?” You held your hand out, palm side up as you gave your fingers a little wiggle. 

Silco opened his hand to reveal what he had been hiding from you. It was the two halves of sand dollar, but small, delicate holes had been made to the tops to fit a gold bail in each. Brown leather had been threaded through that to create a pair of matching necklaces. And to top it all off, small, golden charms had been added as well. Two seahorses. 

“Nikolai put them together for me. Made the charms.” You ran your fingertip gently over the half you knew to be yours. 

“And did Nadia know?” You found Silco’s eyes again, but he shook his head.

“Nearly killed the man trying to keep it a secret from his wife…but we all know Nadia is worse at keeping secrets than even you.” He teased. 

“I only don’t keep them from you. Never felt right.” Silco’s seafoam eyes filled in that warm softness he only ever showed you. 

“I wanted to give this to you earlier in apology for my behavior but…I was--nervous.” You nodded in agreement knowing you had felt those very same overwhelming nerves too. You ran your fingers from the rough sea dollars to feel over the heel of his palm. “I am glad you broke our silence. It was eating me alive.” 

“I’m sorry I didn’t break it sooner. I was nervous too.” Silco gave you a smile that was just as warm as his eyes were. A smile, though not toothy as others might give, was the most breathtaking smile you had ever seen. Would ever see.

“I was thinking you’d wear my half and I’d wear yours.” He started, grabbing up the half that was his. A half that was a bit more jagged and held a long, oval hole in its side. “In way of showing our friendship, yes, but also in promise we’ll be there for each other. You once told me seahorses mate for life…” You nodded as he reached to clasp the necklace around your neck. “Well…I wish that for us. For us to be together. Side by side. For as long as you’ll have me.” 

His words hit you like a brick. Words that filled your chest in such excitement and warmth you didn’t know what to do with it all. A happiness that made your cheeks sting from the wide smile your lips refused to let go of. 

“I’ll have you.” You took your side of the necklace from Silco’s palm, seafoam eyes tracking your every move as you clasped it around his own neck. “I’ll have you for a long, long time. Till we’re old and wrinkled and can’t make it down the stairs.” You pulled a small chuckle from Silco as you let your fingers trace the skin of his collarbone, right where the sand dollar lay. 

“I was miserable when we fought.” You continued, “All I wanted to do was talk with you. Be with you. I don’t see that changing any time soon. You make me happy. I want to be by your side for a long, long time. I hope we can hold on to each other like seahorses do against rough currents.” 

Silco’s fingers brushed over your cheek, holding it so tenderly in his palm as he looked at you like you were some rare gem hidden amongst dull rock and coal. 

“I’ll hold on. Face whatever is to come as long as I have you by my side.” You nodded in utter agreement as he pulled you ever closer. 

“Head on, right?” The pointed tip of Silco’s nose fluttered over yours, an amused huff of air puffing against your skin.

“Yes, head on. Together.” Slightly caped lips pressed sweetly against yours. Lips that moved against yours, turning your mind to pleasant mush in your skull. Lips that swept the whole world away like some storming sea. Lips you thought about so much, it might have become an addiction.

“Boy, am I glad you two are finally together.” You and Silco jumped at the deep voice that sounded hushly in your ears. 

Teeth clanked and noses squished together in both your startled natures, faces whipping around to find the larger form of your friend kneeling there beside you two.

“What in--how long have you been there?” Silco venomously hissed at Vander who kept on watching you with an all-too-happy grin on his lips.

“Just got here.” He sounded not at all bothered by the bite in Silco’s tone. Though you knew Vander was more than used to the sharp way his brother spoke. “Ya know, from the moment Silco rushed to save you from those carp-brained idiots from the docks, I knew he was smitten with you. Could tell you’d been smitten with him long before that.” You couldn’t help the giddy little laugh that spilled from your lips.

“I mean--how couldn’t I have been?” You grabbed Silco’s nose gently between your index and middle finger, giving it a small shake. “Look at him. I was a goner as soon as I laid eyes on him.” Silco huffed grumpily, shooing your hand away as that dusting of pink you loved made another appearance. A dusting that turned into a splash of red when Vander gave a little too loud a laugh for your surroundings. 

You three tensed at the sound of voicing of too-close enforcers. Before any officers could come to snoop around the crates you were heading behind, you three slipped through the long shadows the spotlights cast around and found cover behind a dumpster in a smelly alleyway. 

“Place is with swarming with bucket heads, huh?” Vander voiced as Silco peeked his head around a bag of trash. 

“They’re taking what happened at the bridge more seriously than I originally thought they would,” Silco mumbled, tracking a pair of enforcers that walked past the alley. 

“Who knows what they told their fancy pants council.” You hissed, “Probably tried to cover their asses. Tell them we took the first shot.” 

“Once Nikolai is outta there and safely back down here, then we’ll push them back Topside,” Vander said. That’s when you noticed what he’d been carrying around with him. What he had taken so long to get before meeting you two here. 

His pair of mining gauntlets. 

He was ready to fight. Oh he was more than ready. The wolf had overtaken his gentle eyes. Eye now fully committed and bloodthirsty to the revolution you all had been dreaming about. 

“How are we gettin’ across, sweetheart?” You glanced back to Silco who was already looking back to you. He gave you a small, steadfast nod in reassurance. 

“Okay--promise not to freak out?” You started as you began unscrewing the top of the canteen of water you kept attached to your belt. Vander’s brows furrowed in confusion at your words. 

“Freak out? What would I freak out about?” You sighed dramatically. 

“Just promise.” You insisted, a flicker of amusement pulling at Vander’s features. 

“Okay, okay. I promise.” You watched him for a second longer before grabbing for the water within the canteen with your magic. You pulled a flowing line of water from its metal confines, letting it twirl and twist around in the space between you and Vander. 

And Vander looked--pale. Like he was gonna freak out. 

“Oh--shit.” He muttered. 

“You promised not to freak out.” Your heart hallowed out as he continued to look so utterly shell-shocked. You unconsciously pulled your waters closer, allowing them to snake around your fingers. 

“I’m not.” 

“Are too.” You quickly shot back. 

“Did--Silco knew?” Vander asked, looking towards his brother who had pressed his shoulder against yours.

“Of course I knew.” Silco sounded almost proud of this fact. That he had been the only one to know for so long. 

“He stumbled upon me throwing those carp-brain idiots into the harbor with it. I probably wouldn’t have told him if he hadn’t seen me do it. People and the arcane don’t like to mix.” Vander continued to watch you. Watch the waters you were nervously pressing into a ball between your hands. “Are you--scared? Do you--I wish you would say something.”

“Sorry--I--sorry. It’s just--no. No, I’m not scared.” Vander started, though it did nothing to help ease your fears. “I’m shocked is all. This is--you don’t see this every day.” You nodded in understanding. 

Something like two pieces of a puzzle seemed to click together in his mind. “You--when that pipe burst in the Drop but the water somehow found a way to stay in a nice pool instead of flooding the whole place. That was you?” 

“Yep.” Vander’s face finally broke from that stillness and a cheery smile pulled to his lips. 

“Damn, sweetheart. You saved our asses that night. Wish I could have thanked you.” You shrugged.

“Just wanted to get back to sleep.” Vander gave a chuckle.

“Did you also explode that drink in Benzo’s hand when he wouldn’t lay off the shit?” You gave a mischievous little smirk. 

“Guilty.” Vander shook his head, recognition catching on to another memory.

“You did the same thing to Felicia too, huh? When she--” You quickly shot the water in your command at Vander’s face, keeping him from going on about that night. 

Only the second night Felicia had hung around your group. Another night she and Slico couldn’t seem to stop their endless flirting together. You didn’t think the sip or two left in her cup would ruin anyone’s night completely if it was shot all over her face. 

“Alrighty. We’ve wasted enough time going on and on about memories.” Vander pulled a hand from one of his gauntlets to wipe the water you splashed in his face off. He gave you an all too cheeky look, telling you he knew exactly why you wanted to keep him quiet about it around Silco. 

“Alright, alright. Lay it on me.” He chuckled. 

You and Silco laid the plan out for him carefully before you three were starting for the river once more. 

“And they were roommates.”

“Gods--they were roommates?” A pair of enforcers gossiped from where they stood by a street lamp, guns lowered as they gossiped about whatever Piltie drama they had going on. 

Just as a beam of light from one of the spotlights up on the bridge moved past them, you collected another ball of water from your canteen and sent it hurtling towards some fish crates further away. The wood crashed to the ground, sending the enforcers rushing off to investigate. 

You three were quick to rush for the waters, you sprinting ahead so you would be in the water to catch your friends when they jumped in themselves. 

When your feet hit the edge of the wharf, you pushed your body out and downward in a nice, streamline dive. Air rushed around your skin before being replaced with cold water that flowed around you as you curved your body around and back upward. 

Just as you broke the surface, you heard a shout. A shout that did not belong to either Silco or Vander and definitely belonged to an enforcer. One that had spotted the two men just as they were jumping off the edge. 

One enforcer turned into two that turned into a whole horde rushing about on land, calling at you three. Commanding you to stop. To come back inland. 

Vander was the first to hit the water, his large form and gauntlets making a huge splash that sprayed back up at the enforcers who’d just made it to the edge. 

Silco hit the water, seafoam eyes catching yours and showing you the trust he held in you just before he vanished beneath the surface. 

The sound of guns being cocked and warnings to come back before they would fire rang through your ears. 

A spotlight found you and the sinking boys as guns rose a bit higher. 

You summoned your magic to dance through your veins and over your fingertips. Felt the waters around you flow faster and faster as you smiled wickedly up at the enfocers watching you. 

Water rose on your command, roaring around you as it grew and grew into a wave much larger than any river could have created on its own. Just as you sent it hurtling toward the now screaming and terrified enforcers, you dove into the depths of after your friends. 

You found Vander had grabbed hold of Silco, both trying to swim back to the surface but failing horribly. Even though you had taught Vander to swim, he still wasn’t strong enough to carry a whole other person and support himself in the water.

You sent your magic to flow around them both, holding them in a gentle cradle before beginning to quickly pull them further down and across the river. 

You shot through the water with ease after them, catching up to Silco first. He grabbed hold of your wrist as you created a small air bubble around his head. A bubble that funneled thinly upwards to provide fresh air for him to breathe the whole way. 

Silco gave a deep inhale of air, eyes wide and scanning over your face as he pulled you closer. You allowed it, quickly dipping your face into his bubble to rest your forehead against his. 

“Okay?” You asked as Silco nodded against your skin.

“Yes.” You titled your face so that you could place a small kiss to the tip of his nose.

You pulled away from him then, gliding the sort distance to Vander who was looking a little more panicked than Silco had been. You made quick work of creating his air bubble, Vander giving a sharp curse as he gulped down air. With a sheepish little sorry face and a pair of thumbs up, you swam away, body moving through the water like a human-shaped dolphin. 

Your magic kept Silco and Vander close by as you swam them across the river. Fish drew to you like you were a magnate, which was a typical occurrence when you were within or sailing on a larger body of water like this. They came and tickled at your cheeks as they brushed against you in their way of a hug. 

“Are you a mermaid?” Vander asked from just a little bit behind you. You found him watching you in stunned curiosity, while Silco was watching you in that warmly soft way he often did. A way that made your stomach flutter like a group of minnows had swum within its lining. You created a small air bubble for yourself so that you could respond.

“Ha. No. I wish. I’d get a kick-ass tail if I was.” You grazed your fingers over a gray-scaled fish, it moving closer as if it was some waterbond cat. 

“Then--what are you?” He asked as a look filled his eyes. A looked those kids you had saved years ago had given you too. A look filled with awe. In wonder. In a yearning for something beyond comprehension. 

It was a look that made you feel not human. 

You instantly regretted showing him your magic. Instantly wished to dive deeper into the depth just to get away from that look.

“She’s human, Vander. A born mage.” Silco spoke, coming to your defense and taking that look from Vander’s eyes. 

“Oh--yeah. Of course. Just curious.” You gave him a small smile in understanding. One that turned into that of utter gratefulness as you looked back to Silco. He smiled gently for you, fingers moving within the small current your magic was creating as if he might reach for you. You almost reached for him too, but you kept swimming onward.

The other side of the river came upon you in the passing of a few more minutes. You surfaced, leaving the boys below in case of an ambush. 

It was quiet Topside. Not a single enforcer marching up and down the wharf. No spotlights or gates. The bridge seemed to have been unattended this side of the river. All you found was a sleepy stretch of cobblestone and buildings far nicer than anything the fissures had to offer. 

It made you worry. 

You had made a show of using your power against those enforcers. A mistake in using them so blatantly, but you knew if you hadn’t, those guns would have been fired and they would have hit you or worse--your friends. 

The enforcers should have been on high alert over here in anticipation of your arrival…

Maybe they just believed you drowned in that wave. Maybe they thought it had been a natural occurrence and you’d been swept away in it. That the boys had sunk to the bottom of the river never to see the sky again.

You glanced over your shoulder back towards your stretch of home. 

Spotlights still roamed the land and waters. You could just vaguely make out enforcers rushing about over there, still in a panic over you three slipping past. 

Maybe they just haven’t had time to get over here yet and in that case, you all needed to move fast. 

You pulled the boys to the surface, keeping them cradled in your waters until you had placed their feet on the ground Topside. Using your magic to push you onto land, you were quick to grab for Silco’s hand. He grabbed it back just as you were opening your mouth to tell them of your thoughts when light blinded you. 

The sound of armor clanking and voices shouting filled your ears and you knew instantly you had led your friends into an ambush. You knew just how foolish you had been in thinking they wouldn’t have alerted their people over here. 

“Put your weapons down and your hands in the air. Slowly.” Your eyes adjusted to the light to find you had been surrounded by enforcers, guns aimed straight at you all. 

Silco’s hand was tight in yours. A tightness that became slightly tugging, like we was trying to slowly bring you behind him.

Vander’s gray eyes found yours. Then they found Silcos.

Hard eyes. Determined eyes. Eyes that seemed to be begging for a fight.

“I said--” A blur shot at the head enforcer. Metal slammed into his face so hard, you saw teeth and blood fly. 

Vander had been that blur. Those gauntlets of his looking more wicked than any knife or gun the way he was attacking. Attacking any and all enforcers that he laid eyes on.

A gun booming to life and the heated air of a buttle narrowly missing your face spurred you into action. Silco let go of your hand just as you let go of his, the both of you grabbing for the knives strapped to your sides and hurling yourself into the fray.

Your body twisted and weaved and sliced through an enforcer. 

Then another and another and--

A gun was slammed sideways into your face, pain screaming through your nose as it gave a sickening crunch. Pain that you snarled and bit back against before you were cutting down that enforcer. 

Your fist slammed into another oncoming enforcer's jaw just as a body slammed into yours. 

Skin broke upon impact with the cobblestone. A fist pounded into your temple, momentarily turning your vision blurry as you roared and reached blinding for the body on top of yours. You grabbed a fist full of hair and pulled with all your strength, causing the enforcer to shout.

Another wild fist hit you in the shoulder as you yanked her downwards, rolling so you could jam a knee into her stomach to keep her pinned down. 

You had just raised your fist to attack when a gun was pressed against your throat, yanking you back and off of the enforcer, the tightness enough to sharply cut your air supply off. 

You gagged and gasped, fingers fumbling to try and alleviate the pressure when your eyes caught sight of Vander. 

An enforcers had jumped onto his back. Then another. And another and another until Vander was brought to his knees under the weight of them all. A new wave of enforcers appeared to point their guns at him, shouting commands and threats his way. 

You found Silco a little ways away, sprawled on his back, blood trickling from a cut on his forehead as two enforcers pointed their guns directly at his heart. 

Their fingers tightened on their triggers. 

Their eyes--they were getting ready to fire. 

Seafoam's eyes frantically glanced around the wharf. Eyes that found yours. Eyes that were--remorseful. Apologetic and full of the gentle softness he only ever showed you.

And you knew then he knew there was little to no chance of escape from the guns pointed at him. 

You sucked in as much air as you could around the pressure against your throat and gave a ragged scream into the night air. 

You felt the waters in the river roar in answer. Felt the waters between the cobblestone cracks answer. The water in the pipes and fountains answers. Felt them begin to swirl and rise and rage. 

Your blood boiled. 

Your vision blurred. 

Your ears filled with ringing so loud it drowned out your friends and the enforcers before you. 

Seaform eyes smiled.

Silence washed through your ears--through your being. 

Ba-dum…ba-dum…ba-dum…

A heartbeat rang through your mind. A fastened one. One that was beating heavily against the activity it was doing.

It was a sound your magic cocked its head at in curiosity. A sound that faded out into soft roaring…like a flowing river. 

Water.

It was water you were hearing. Water that called to you to take and command. Water you did just that too. 

The enforcer behind you gave a pained sound. A sound that spurred you to push those strange waters harder. To make them rise and rise until the enforcer was dropping their gun to the ground. 

You found them on the ground, clawing at their throat as they gasped for air. Found their eyes watering and pooling over. Waters that bubbled from their nose and ears and mouth. Waters that ran red.

And you pushed it higher until they slumped over, the light having left their eyes. 

“What the fuck!” An enforcer nearby shouted. “Holy shit! By the gods! You--You’re a frea--” You grabbed hold of the strange waters flowing within his veins. Watched him panic at the relation that he was next. Watched him run and scream in pain and trip over his own feet.

You watched as those waters poured out of him in the same manner as his comrade.

You watched him drown on dry land. 

And you should have found it sickening. The hollowness gnawing at your senses should have told you that. The warning bells that rang through your mind. 

These were not your waters to command.

These waters belonged to those enforcers and those enforcers alone. Just as Nadia’s blood you had struggled to control had been hers.

It was something you were never supposed to have power over. 

It wasn’t a part of you. 

Not like how the waters in the river were a part of you. In the streams and pipes. 

It wasn’t you.

That chilling hollowness pushed your body forward. Had your powers latching onto the two enforcers who had been a hairs width away from ending Silco’s life. You commanded these dark waters once more with little care about whether they were yours or not. Not when these people were trying to kill your family. 

You raised your other hand towards the enforcers holding Vander down as the two began to drown before Silco’s eyes. You commanded their waters and watched them claw and cry and scramble before they joined their comrades. 

Vander was quick to his feet, eyes wide as he gazed upon you. 

Fear. 

That hollowness hardly let you register it though. Not when your magic felt more enforcers rushing your way. Enforcers you stopped in their tracks with a daggered glare their way. 

You felt--powerful. 

More powerful than you’d ever felt.

It felt sinnful but gods it was near addicting. An addiction you wanted to cave into as you set your sights onto the bridge just a few feet away. 

You felt as if you could go up there and end it all. 

Felt as if you were strong enough to march through the streets of Piltover, find their foolish councilmen and just end their terrible reign.

That hallowness laughed in agreement with you. It egged you on. Told you to take that first step. Had your feet moving towards the bridge. Moving past Silco who was still sat, watching you slinetly. 

He called your name quietly as the winds blew through the streets. 

He called your name as the winds rushed around you.

He called your name and The Winds called it too. 

“Stop.” The Winds commanded. 

Your feet kept moving. Your veins boiled and pounded screaming out for more, more, more.

The Winds whipped around you like a tempest. 

Your vision blurred and black dots danced in their corners. 

When had it gotten so hard to breathe? You wondered and yet that dark energy kept pushing and pushing until those dots overtook you.

“You don’t know what you’ve meddled in, little one.” 

Your eyes flew wide at the voice. One you hadn’t heard for years. One you thought abandoned you and everyone in the Lanes.

You stood and you felt your throat tightened. 

You were no longer on the wharf. 

You were no longer in reality. 

Endless sky. 

Endless night. 

Stars twinkled and galaxies bloomed silently before, upbove, and below you. 

And you--you weren’t you--

Your waters whirled over your skin. Was your skin--your body. 

A strangled sound pulled from whatever strange mouth you possessed in the horror of it all. 

You were--you must be dead. That was the only explanation for this all. 

“You have not died.” That voice spoke again. You snapped around to find your guardian and--terror gripped your soul. 

A begin made of gold and white and wind floated before you. One with wings sprouting from its arms and hips. One with bird's feet and clawed hands. One whose face was smooth gold with a halo of that same gold circling over its head to match. 

“You’re--you’re an angel.” You croaked out in horror. The angel shook its featureless head, gliding closer to you.

“I am Janna. As you know…though--also as you don’t.” Her wings gave a ruffle as if saying you’d never seen her this way. 

“Janna--no--I--where are we?” You were beginning to panic. To freak out. 

“Do not be afraid.” She tried to soothe. 

“Fuck--FUCK! Don’t be afraid? What the hell am I supposed to feel?” The being--Janna--gave another ruffle of her wings. 

“Feelings have little to do with this. You have touched powers that do not belong to you.” You’re throat only continued to tighten. It was so tight you thought you might suffocate right then and there. “Those souls were not yours to take.” 

“Souls--you mean those enforcers?” Janna didn’t move. You would have said she was just watching you if she had had any eyes to watch you with. “The ones that had been trying to kill me? Kill Silco and Vander? I was protecting the people I love.” Janna again was silent. Was again unmoving. 

You gave a frustrated growl, whatever fists you had balling. 

You’re fear--oh, it was turning into anger. An anger Janna and Janna alone could only ever bring out in you.

“You know what--screw this. Where the hell have you been? It’s been four years.” Your waters flared around in answer to your rising emotions.

“It’s been…four years?” Janna repeated slowly. “Truly?”

“Fuck!” You hissed. “You are meant to protect us! You. And you can’t even bother to know how long you’ve been gone!” You took a step closer to the floating spirit who looked more like a god in that moment. “Where have you been? Why have you been gone?” 

“I’ve been guiding the heart and mind of an interesting young woman. One whose battle with the Gray aligns with my own. I’ve been overseeing her progress.” You scoffed. Scoffed and couldn’t help the pinch your heart gave. 

Some young woman? Some random girl? Someone who wasn’t you? You were Janna’s ward.

“If you can’t get rid of the Gray, no one can.”

“She will keep it at bay within these…vents as she calls them.” You just watched her in utter--shock. In anger and rage and wrath. Oh you were pissed. 

“Let me out.” Janna’s feathers ruffled. “Let me out of whatever fucked up purgatory you have me in right now,” Janna said your name like a warning. 

“I brought you here because you went beyond your realm’s limits.” 

“I don’t give a shit. Let me out!” Your waters began to swarm around you. Faster and faster they whirl. 

Wind whipped after it. Wind that tried to grab hold of you and keep you in this horrid place. 

“The Arcane is our master. We are not masters of it. You challenge it, it will destroy you.” Janna called around the roar of wind and water. 

Stars began to move. 

Galaxies. 

Everything was swirling wildly around in the tornado the Winds and Waters created. 

“You hurt another creature we are meant to preside over,” Janna continued, “and I will stop you.” 

And there she was. 

The Janna you had known your whole life. The strange, wispy elven being who had raised you. Whose glowing eyes seemed to--no…no you’re mind was play tricks on you but…they looked to be begging you to stop. To forget the dark power you had tipped your toes into. 

It was emotion in her glowing eyes. Emotion she could not and had not ever shown you before. 

“Do not make me go against you.” She all too calmly spoke. 

Light cracked through the starry sky like the shattering of a mirror. Light that spread and spread till it began to engulf you and Janna whole. 

“You will not win.” 

It was dark. Dark and…smelled like a homemade meal. 

The ground beneath you was carpeted. Soft. 

There was something solid next to you. A body. A body that’d slung an arm around your waist to keep you down. You felt your body tense at the realization. That you didn’t know where you were or who was caging you in place. 

You readied yourself for a fight. To get up quickly when a sleep-filled voice you knew in seconds spoke, “You’re awake.” Silco’s voice instantly had you relaxing into his hold. Relaxing and realizing just how much pain you were in. 

The fight on the wharf. You’d been beaten. Bad and your body was definitely feeling it.

“Where are we?” You whispered back. Silco shuffled closer to you, nuzzling his face against your head. 

“We found Nikolai and his friend was kind enough to let us lay low here for the night.” You made a small hum at his words but said nothing further. You couldn’t. Because past the pain roaming through your body, you felt--numb. Strange. Different. 

“Are you in pain?” Silco asked. 

“Yes.” You felt his body ready to get up, but you were quick to grab hold of his arm, keeping him down. “Just--it’s okay…can you just…hold me.” Silco hesitated at your request. “Please?” You breathed. 

Silco gave a small sigh from his nose but settled back against you, his arm now holding you very so gingerly.

You two lay in the dark for a long moment. You listened to his even breaths in your ear. Enjoyed the warmth of it over your skin. Tried to let it take that strange…nothingness ringing in your chest away but…but it was stuck there. Stuck like it was held there with super glue.

Silco whispered your name in question against the shell of your ear. You nodded in answer. 

“Are…are you okay?” 

Janna’s words rang in your mind. Her promises of fighting you and of her sureness in winning. 

You thought of that emotion that had broken over her ever-emotionless face. 

She--she had been scared. Saddened and disappointed all in one.  

And it rattled you more than you had expected. Left you wondering if you should listen. If that taste of power you had felt was worth making her look like that.

If that taste of power was worth this strange numb feeling in your chest. Worth feeling less than human. 

But that power…gods had it felt good. 

Too good. 

“I…don’t know.” You answered honestly, finally moving to turn your face into his chest despite your body barking at you in pain. Silco held you tightly, fingers moving over your back in soothing circles. “Are…” You swallowed sharply against the tightness that seemed to have carried over from that strange world. “Are you scared of me?” The question was hardly even a whisper. A breathy thing. A scared thing. 

You didn’t want him to fear you. Didn’t want him to look at you like those enforcers had. Like Vander had.

“No.” Silco quickly said. So quickly it had almost overpowered your own words. “I would never be scared of you.” 

You laid still in his arms for a long moment. Let his firm, unwavering words settle over you. Let them help carry that numbness away…try to carry it away. “Seahorses… remember.” You nodded once more as he kissed the top of your head.

“Seahorses.”

Previous | Next

[kirammansbow]

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

[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 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

-

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]

🅂🄸🄻🄲🄾

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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.

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Masterlist

[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"

[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.

[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

[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.✨

[grugruel]

The Game

Pairing: Silco x f!reader

Masterlist

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

Word count: 2.7k

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

1. Prizes asked for must be given.

2. Revenge is always permitted.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Naturally."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[juniper-sunny]

The Art in the Heart* - Chapter 14

A long-awaited confrontation brings back unwanted reminders of the past…

Happy Ending AU | Silco x Reader | Young!Silco | F!Reader | No [Y/N] | Slow Burn | Romance | Smut | Fluff | Angst | Hurt/Comfort | Fix-It || SFW | TW: Stalking | WC: 4.0k

beta reader: @silcoitus

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

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

For as long as you can remember, the Undercity has been covered from top to bottom in graffiti, oozing and dripping bright colors everywhere. The strong, artificially fresh smells of paint and aerosols are just as prevalent as the smoke and fog, weaving their way through the Lanes, heavy and thick enough to grab with your fist.

Most painters take it upon themselves to learn some form of martial arts; it’s a useful skill to have if they want to encroach on someone else’s territory. After all, most artists aren’t going to give up good real estate without a fight. You’ve gotten into scuffles before in your youth, protecting your art from being vandalized by an older boy who backed off only when you bit deep into his wrist, drawing crimson blood richer than any artificially created color.

You don’t miss that aspect of your childhood at all.

One alternative is to climb or crawl somewhere remote and difficult to reach. The challenge in these instances is to successfully navigate Zaun’s crumbling infrastructure without falling to your death. Cracked ledges, shabby roofs, dislodged pipes, and shoddy scaffolding could all fall to pieces with the lightest of touches.

After securing a good spot, you can’t even dedicate your full attention to whatever you’re working on. After all, your back is exposed and you still have to stand guard over your supplies. Your fellow Zaunites are nothing if not bold enough to try stealing your property from right under your nose.

You purposefully ignore all your hard-won wisdom as you stroll leisurely into a dead-end alleyway, whistling loudly as you drop your bag of painting supplies with a loud thud. You kick an empty beer bottle out of the way, and it clatters noisily against the ground. The crumbling brick wall is dusty but sturdy, the stone rough and bumpy under your fingertips as you sweep your hand across it. You pull out your sketchbook and flip through it dramatically. The crisp snapping of the pages echoes loudly through the air.

Every instinct in your body is screaming at you to stop being so obvious. To drop everything and run away as fast as you can.

But you can’t. Because you’re not going to be the victim tonight.

Tonight, you’re the bait.

It takes every ounce of your willpower to stay rooted in the alleyway. Every second that drags on is torture, the longest ten minutes of your life where electric panic fries every nerve in your spine. As if being stuck in a dead end with only one exit wasn’t bad enough, the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end as a stinging, unbearable pain stabs at your temples. Your skin prickles as if it were desperate to escape as well.

You lean over your bag and pull out a spray paint can with trembling hands. Gripping it tightly for dear life.

Your heartbeat is thumping so loud in your ears that you almost miss it:

A quiet, low shuffling, at the other end of the alley.

You force yourself to keep looking forward. To not turn towards them even as hesitant footsteps approach you.

They’re slow, at first.

Picking up speed, growing louder and louder as they rush towards you.

Something sharp and pointy glints brightly out of the corner of your eye—

High-pitched yelling breaks out on your left. It’s much more juvenile sounding than you anticipated, but it sounds just like the children at the orphanage when they’re playing during recess, if their playtime involved ripping each other’s hair out by the fistful. Something metallic clatters to the ground, and you finally turn to look at them properly.

Silco has a little girl pinned down, his knee on her back as he ties her wrists with rope. Her feet flail wildly in the air, kicking up clouds of dirt. He manhandles her roughly before picking her up with ease as if she weighed nothing. She’s reminiscent of a stray cat as she swears at Silco, hissing and writhing furiously to no avail. An old but highly polished knife lies on the ground underneath her feet.

Cold fury burns in Silco’s eyes as he mutters to her, his teeth bared and eyebrows furrowed at the girl as he strides towards you. His words are too low for you to hear, but she responds with a vitriolic string of curses that he doesn’t flinch at. He drops her unceremoniously at your feet.

“OWW!!” the girl yells as her chin collides with the hard ground.

You frown at Silco. “What happened to not hurting them?”

“It’s no less than they deserve,” he says dismissively.

You sigh but bite your tongue, not wanting to argue with him in front of a stranger. Cautiously, you lower yourself inch by inch into a crouch, scooting closer to the child as you set your paint can down.

She scrambles to sit upright, glaring at you.

Silco’s shoulders stiffen as he steps closer, hovering behind her ominously. He makes a point to pick up the fallen knife and tuck it into his own belt, resting his hand on the hilt. Ready to unsheathe it at a moment’s notice.

But he doesn’t try to keep you away from her. Just like you made him promise earlier.

“Hi there,” you say gently. “What’s your name?”

She spits angrily at your feet.

Silco raises a booted foot, ready to kick her over. You raise a placating hand, scrutinizing the kid.

It’s always hard to tell with Sumpsnipes, but she looks barely older than Vi, just approaching the cusp of teenagerhood. She’s lean but not emaciated, with a halo of soft, curly gray hair above emerald-green eyes. Her blazing, angry eyes are smudged with dirt, but not dark circles of sleeplessness or stress. When you glance at her clothes, they don’t have any holes, patches, or loose stitches. In fact, they look clean and fresh, maybe even brand new.

You furrow your brow, thinking hard. Whoever this kid is, she’s living better than the average gutter rat.

Slowly, you settle on your knees and reach for your bag. Her eyes track your hands as you pull out a tin lunchbox and a flask.

“Have you eaten today?” you ask. You unscrew the flask and hold it out to her.

She doesn’t answer, but her eyes widen with surprise. Then she turns from you forcefully even as her stomach rumbles loudly.

“It’s not poisoned,” you promise her. You take a sip first, making sure that she’s watching. 

When you hold the canteen out to her again, she inches forward warily, licking her lips. She opens her mouth wide, and you carefully tilt your flask, making sure not to pour too much water too fast. You ignore Silco as he folds his arms in disapproval.

The girl smacks her lips as you put your half-empty canteen back in your bag. Her eyes dart to your lunchbox as you open it to pull out a sandwich wrapped with paper. You peel the wrapping off carefully, revealing an overstuffed sandwich with grainy bread slices, large lettuce leaves, juicy tomato discs, a deep yellow square of cheese, and peppered cuts of dark pink meat.

“We’re going to untie you so you can eat this,” you say calmly. You grab your lunchbox and close it with your free hand, placing it in front of the girl to act as a makeshift plate. Carefully, you place the food on the container, as if you were a waiter presenting a gourmet dessert. “You can leave after you’re done, but I’d like to talk to you, if that’s okay.”

Her eyes flick down to the food, then back up at you, studying your face carefully. She nods just once, still stoic and ornery.

You nod at Silco. He frowns, displeased, but still leans down to untie the child. The girl snatches the sandwich as soon as her wrists are freed. She snarfs it down messily, crumbs flying everywhere as she chews with an open mouth.

“If I had known your pursuer was a wild Poro, I would have brought proper wrangling equipment,” Silco snorts.

“Slow down, or you’ll choke,” you warn the girl.

She glares at you, but then starts hacking and coughing. You quickly grab your flask again and open it, holding it out to her.

“Slow sips,” you instruct her.

She swipes the canteen from you. She closes her eyes as she glugs, a trickle of water spilling over her chin. You sit patiently as she returns her attention to the sandwich. The girl starts chewing much more carefully this time. When you offer her a napkin, she takes it without reservation. Her eyes are no longer hostile, but curious now, wide with wonder as she wipes her mouth.

You tell her your name and hold out your hand. She doesn’t take it, but hands the canteen back to you.

“What’s your name?” you ask again as you put the flask away.

“…Leksy,” she grunts out.

“Hi, Leksy,” you say as warmly as you can, trying to stay calm. The months of resentment for your stalker are slowly dissolving, replaced by a nagging inquisitiveness. The stalker’s youth goes a long way towards making you less scared of her. Besides, she reminds you too much of every other unruly kid you’ve taken care of at the orphanage. More often than not, they just need a safe place and a helping hand.

This kid might just be another one of those orphans. 

“Do you have parents?” you ask.

Leksy nods before licking her fingers clean.

“Where are they?”

“Dad’s at work,” the little girl says. She crumples up the napkin and tosses it over her shoulder. It misses Silco’s leg by inches.  

“Is it just the two of you?”

“No. Mom’s at home.”  

“Why don’t we walk you home? You’ll be safer with us,” you offer. You don’t have to look at Silco to know that he’s rolling his eyes.

“I can’t,” she says curtly.

“Why not?”

She glances away again, eyes downcast with shame. “I’ll get in trouble.”

You glance at Silco, worried. His expression is impassive as he stares down his nose at her.

“Is there someone at home hurting you?” you ask quietly.

Leksy shakes her head vigorously, her hair bouncing everywhere.

“What’s wrong, then?”

The girl looks down, mumbling, “Mom said to leave you alone.”

Confused, you look up at Silco, wondering if he heard Leksy’s answer. He raises an eyebrow, sharing in your bewilderment.

You ask her, “Did she tell you to take pictures of me?”

“No.” Leksy’s eyes bore into a small rock on the ground.

“Who’s your mom?”

“She’s actually my stepmom,” Leksy clarifies, still avoiding your gaze.

“What’s her name?” you ask patiently.

“…Nyle,” the girl finally mutters.

You sit there, stunned into silence as your heart seizes. Your hands clench into fists involuntarily. Anger seeps through your veins as the memories of everything Nyle did to you come rushing back.

Some of your fury must be leaking into your face as Leksy scoots away from you, eyes wide, looking truly afraid for the first time that night. Silco says your name in worry as he steps around the girl to reach out for you.

“I’m okay,” you say automatically, flat and mechanical. You ignore Silco’s hand and get to your feet unsteadily, almost stumbling to the ground again. Still seeing red when you turn around and close your eyes, trying to take deep, calming breaths.

Unreasonable as it is, a part of you still feels guilty for letting Nyle down. Guilty for being inadequate and incompetent. Guilty for not living up to her expectations. And regret for things turning out the way they did. Regret that you lost her because you still miss her so much. All coiling together with a desire for revenge, to hurt her as badly as she hurt you. Twisted up against a strange happiness for her, happy that she found new people to love who seemingly love her back. Only to crash against a fury that she found happiness at all. That she had the audacity to move on and leave you behind.

Silco’s voice calls out your name again, echoing faintly as if he were far away. But his hand lands on your shoulder, bringing you back down to earth.

You jerk your head as if you could physically dislodge your feelings from your body.

“I’m okay,” you say again, letting out a deep breath. It’s a smaller lie this time, as you feel better just looking at the man standing next to you. His brow is pinched with concern.

You might not have Nyle anymore, but you have Silco now.

And you know which companion is superior.

You take Silco’s other hand and squeeze it reassuringly before turning to Leksy. “What did she tell you about me?”

“She said you work for Pilties. You must be rich, right?” Leksy asks, her fear forgotten as her eyes shine with eagerness.

So there it is: the real reason why this little girl has been stalking you. The same thing that tore you and Nyle apart is what brought Leksy into your life. You hold back a snort at the irony.

“Your dad works, right? Doesn’t he have money?” you counter Leksy’s question with your own.

“We need more money,” she says, agitated. “Mom can’t work anymore. She got hurt.”

“What happened?”

“She fucked up her wrist.”

As if the maelstrom of emotions in your stomach wasn’t overwhelming enough, that part of you that still cares for Nyle is now worried about her. If her injury is severe enough to affect her livelihood, then she’s suffering in more ways than one. But another part of you crows with delight at her getting what she deserves.

Silco turns to tower menacingly over the little girl, uncaring of how she leans away from him. “So you’re a cutpurse looking to make up for your mother’s lost income. You should have chosen better.”

The girl glares back at him in defiance. You can’t help but admire her spirit.

“Did Nyle ask you to do this?” you ask, heart breaking a little at your own question, a shallow but piercing stab into your sternum. Even if Nyle had told Leksy to leave you alone, you still need clarification on her part in all this, to find out if she has something more insidious planned for you.

And, of all things, hope takes root in your chest, a creeping tendril worming its way through your ribs to your heart. Hope born from the optimistic—or more likely, naïve and misguided—part of you that still clutches onto the fragments of your shattered friendship with Nyle. A nostalgia for memories of better times that weren’t ruined beyond repair. The belief that one day, the two of you might be able to pick up where you left off.

“No,” Leksy answers. “She grounded me when she found out.”

A revelation. You wonder if Nyle is trying to prevent Leksy from making the same mistake that she did, feeling entitled to money that isn’t hers. Maybe your former friend is trying to repent in her own way.

As you mull over Leksy’s words, Silco glowers at her.

“And yet, here you are,” he snarls. “Too greedy to understand that you should have kept your hands to yourself.”

“I’m hungry!” shouts Leksy. “We need money!”

She flinches again when Silco reaches for the rope. He grabs one end and whips it forcefully against the ground, a harsh slap on stone.

“Run home, little Sumpsnipe,” he rasps through bared teeth, a low whisper of violence like a promise made to keep a secret. “And tell your mother—”

Silco cuts himself off when you gently but firmly take hold of his wrist. Reminding him silently of his promise that he’d let you take care of this. He tears his gaze away from the girl to lock onto you, his boiling rage still simmering as you look at him with determination.

You crouch down again next to Leksy. Her eyes are wary as she scoots away, afraid you might lash out at her, too.

She flinches as you raise your hand.

But you bring it down slowly, patting her tenderly on the head. Her hair is soft and bouncy, and you fight off the temptation to poke your finger through the corkscrew curls and play with them.

Whatever Nyle’s faults are, it’s clear she cares for Leksy very much. And your former friend seems to be a great parent, if she’s inspired Leksy to take such drastic measures. When you remember how Nyle let herself go hungry to feed you, it’s easy to imagine her doing the same for this little girl.

And you knew what you needed to do for Leksy as soon as you first laid eyes on her.

It doesn’t matter who her parents are.

“I get it,” you say softly. “You just want some food, right? Maybe feed your mom and dad, too?”

Leksy nods energetically. “When Mom got hurt, her boss let her take a break… but her wrist got worse and she got fired…”

“It’s going to be okay,” you reassure her. You turn around and kneel next to your bag, pulling out your leather coin purse. Silco grinds his teeth, imploding with disapproval as you place it on the ground in front of the kid.

“That’s for you. If you take the elevators up to Lower Piltover, go to Janna’s Embrace. You and your parents can get food there,” you tell Leksy. “And… tell your mom… that she can eat as much as she wants.”

The Sumpsnipe’s eyes narrow with suspicion. She swipes the money and turns away from you. Her eyes widen with relief, not greed, when she opens the purse, the gold reflecting brightly in her eyes.

You topple backwards as Leksy throws herself forcefully at you, her small hands clinging around your neck in a tight hug. Your butt collides painfully with the hard ground, but the child’s muffled thanks warms your heart.

“Are you sure you don’t need us to walk you home?” you ask.

She nods excitedly. The joy on her face turns to spite when she turns to Silco. Quick as a flash, she kicks him in the shin and yanks her knife out of his belt when he doubles over, swearing.

As his knees collide with the ground, Leksy dashes away, yelling over her shoulder. “Your girlfriend deserves better!!”

You quickly get to your feet, reaching out to take Silco’s shoulders even as you try your best not to laugh. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” he spits out through gritted teeth, rubbing his shin with one hand. He takes your wrist gently to stop you from rummaging in your bag for your first-aid kit. “I should ask the same of you.”

“I’m—” you start, but panic surges in your chest.

If Nyle is going with her family to the Embrace, that means you might see her there. And you’re not sure if you’re ready to face her.

But at least you don’t have to face her alone.

When Silco stands to his fullest height, you hug him, burying your face in his chest. His arms immediately wrap around you as your eyes well with tears. So overwhelmed that you crumple into him for support, the full force of your emotions battering you.

“It’s okay,” he whispers. “Let it out.”

You shake your head, wiping your tears on his vest as a giddy laugh rises out of you like bubbles in a fizzy drink. So exhilarated at finally being able to put this whole ordeal behind you. It’s almost funny that such a small child gave you such a hard time for so long. 

But now, a weight has fallen off your shoulders. You feel so light you wouldn’t be surprised if you started floating off the ground. All of it is too much to contain as you keep giggling. 

Concerned, Silco lets go of you to hold your face in his hands.  

“Silco… thank you,” you say breathlessly before he can speak. When he cups your cheek, you lean into his hand, taking deep breaths to settle your nerves. “I couldn’t have done this without you.”

You’re not just talking about needing his help with wrangling the little girl. His companionship and support helped you put an end to this once and for all. Seeing him stand up fearlessly to Piltover’s countless injustices inspires you every day; if he can fight back against a colossus, then surely you can confront one individual.

His love for Zaun is so similar to your own. It reminds you of the most important thing of all:

That nobody in the Undercity deserves to go hungry.

“That was all you, my lovely,” he murmurs. Silco’s eyes dart between yours as he studies your face. “You were too kind to the child. She needed to be taught a lesson.”

“Leksy’s just a kid,” you say, frowning.

“All our enemies were children once. The only way to defeat them is to stop at nothing,” he says grimly. But his arms fall to your sides, holding you tenderly in a loose embrace.

“She’s not my enemy,” you say with a chuckle. “You’re just mad that she’s faster than you.”

“…Perhaps,” he admits reluctantly. “But I will never forgive her for what she put you through.”

“She’s just a hungry little girl. There are hundreds of them like her down here,” you point out. “Hell, I used to be one, too. Can you honestly tell me you wouldn’t have done the same in her shoes?”

“Of course not—”

“Really? Even if we didn’t know each other?” You pull back from him, raising a skeptical eyebrow. “Pretend that the only thing you know about me is that I’m rich. What about then?”

“No riches in the world could compare to the joy of having you by my side,” he answers without dropping a beat.

“Yeah, yeah, I know I’m great,” you laugh at the smoothness of his delivery. “But that’s not an answer.”

He sighs and pulls you into his chest, hugging you tight. Not out of concern, this time, but to comfort you. The musk of his cologne and cigarette smoke fills your nostrils as you plant a kiss underneath his collarbone.

“You may be right,” he grumbles. “What about the mother?”

“What about her?”

“Is she your enemy?” he asks quietly.

“I—I don’t know… I don’t know if I’ll ever forgive her…” you admit. There’s too much to untangle, and you’re not quite ready to start. “Does that make me a bad person?”

“Not at all. You have every right to keep her at arm’s length,” Silco answers immediately. “Your offer of charity is more than she deserves.”

“It was the right thing to do,” you murmur. You nuzzle into him, his heartbeat a soothing metronome in your ear.

“That’s my girl,” he whispers proudly.

Your heart stutters at his words and you can’t help but blush. Still, you bite your lip, fisting his shirt as your frustration rises to the surface again.

“So… I’m ‘your girl’, now?” you ask, trying to keep your voice as neutral as possible.

Silco stiffens, his arms tensing around you. He pulls away slowly, stepping backwards to look at you. His expression is stoic, but a tiny notch between his eyebrows betrays his hurt. You rub your arms as you keenly feel the loss of his embrace.

“Am I wrong to hope you feel the same way?” he asks in a low, flat voice.

“No!” you answer immediately. “But…”

It hurts you to hear Silco speak with that tone. You’ve always tried your best to be a safe space for him to express himself, to listen with empathy and compassion whenever he told you about his fears and insecurities. Not to mention the countless times you’ve patched him up, whether it’s wrapping his bloody knuckles or holding ice to his bruises.

But you’ve never been the one to hurt his feelings before.

And you almost hate yourself for it.

You take another deep breath, forcing yourself to slow down and choose your words carefully. “Silco… I can never thank you enough for all your help today, and these past few months… but…

“We need to talk.” 

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

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 15

[gingernut1314]

The Water's Cold Embrace Masterlist

Content: Female reader x Slico, 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)

A/N: since season 2 came out I was reminded that I had some bits and pieces of this story I made while watching season 1 and thought, hey, now is a good time as any to put them out there into the world. I wanted to write for the characters pre-season 1 cause how fun would it be to write for all their interactions before everything went to complete shit? It's so much fun and thus this fic was born lol. I hope you all enjoy!

↞ to Masterlists | Request Rules | Blog Navigation ↠

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: -COMING SOON

ᥫ᭡ Chapter 11: -COMING SOON

ᥫ᭡ Chapter 12: -COMING SOON

Act 4: -COMING SOON

ᥫ᭡ Chapter 13: Wailing Sea Witch

ᥫ᭡ Chapter 14: ....

ᥫ᭡ Chapter 15: ...

ᥫ᭡ Chapter 16:

Epilogue: -COMING SOON

ᥫ᭡ Chapter 17: The Waters of Zuan

[cognacandlilac]

To the Depths - Part Six - NSFW

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He left you to fend for yourself. 

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

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

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

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

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

What in the hell is it? 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It does…nothing. 

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

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

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

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

You will be swallowed up by its hungry maw. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

There are two crude doors set into the makeshift wall. 

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

“Oh?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What happened there?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your eyes widen. “I have not.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You tilt your head. “You do?”

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

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

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

You say nothing. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And then it’s gone. 

You gasp hard and brace on the desk. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You are not rattled. You are not frightened. 

You’re terrified. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

********

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Why?”

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

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

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

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

“True.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Each step gives you a frail sense of reassurance. 

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

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

You are resilient. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

Now you know how Port Squawkfeather got its name.

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

“An old associate of mine,” Silco says. 

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

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

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

“You’re about to find out, treasure.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Old bastard,” Barnaby croaks. 

“Waste of poultry,” Captain Jimmy fires back. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Are you alright?” He asks. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Pretty lady pet pretty bird.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Wish?” You blurt without thinking. 

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

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

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

“I’m fine!” You protest with a frown. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Now, see here-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Of course!”

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh, that makes me uneasy.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Of course.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your question seems to catch him off guard. 

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re avoiding my question.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m sure he can,” Silco nods.

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

[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 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

-

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. 

-

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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