#Silco fic

[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.”

[echos-scomplink]

I want this tattooed on my eyelids

Don't Go (One-shot):

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

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

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

You didn't want to go. Not really. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The damage was done. 

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

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

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

You just can’t deal with it right now. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"What are you doing?" 

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

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

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

"Please don't do this." 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Then why?" 

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

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

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

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

Your response is quiet. Resigned. 

"That's why."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"What?" he replies, clearly stunned. 

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

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

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

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

"You can't leave." 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He grips the bag even tighter. 

"No." 

And just like that, your astonishment slides into anger. 

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

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

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

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

A clear challenge. 

Unfortunately for Silco, you can be stubborn too. 

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

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

"Just stop-" 

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

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

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

"Do what without me?" 

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

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

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

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

"Silco-" 

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

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

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

You’ve never seen him like this before. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Watching you destroy yourself." 

"I'm not-" 

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

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

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

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

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

"No, I-"

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

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

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

 You sigh, swiping a hand across your face tiredly. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You’re not letting him off that easily. 

"Okay what?" you say expectantly. 

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

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

"And?" you prompt with a raised eyebrow. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"So you'll stay?" 

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

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

"You promise?" 

"I promise, Silco." 

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

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

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

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

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

"I love you too, Sil." 

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

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

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

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

"What plan?" 

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

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

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

You twirl a playful finger through your hair. 

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

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

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

"Prove it." 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[gingernut1314]

The Water's Embrace ch. 7

Summary: You and Silco talk about recent events happening within your friend group before one simple act has everything exploding in your faces.

Content: female reader, gendered terms, pre-season 1 arcane, young Vander, young Silco, young Sevika, young reader, young Felicia, young Connol, Nadia & Nikolai are Viktor's parents, silco POV, fear of rejection/ruining friendship, rejection, reader has water manipulation, smoking, slight Arcane season 2/League of Legends spoiler (Janna, Felicia & Connol)

Word Count: 5.9K

Tag List: @miffysoo , @teriyakiitae

A/N: So.....that series finale.....how we feeling about it? I'm feeling unwell SOB. Anywayy here is the next chapter and I hope you all enjoy!!

↞ to The Water's Cold Embrace Masterlist | Arcane Masterlist | Request Rules | Blog Navigation ↠

Three years later

“Felicia’s pregnant!” You gaped at Silco from where he sat on the edge of the small pool of water you swam in. It was a pool located in the cave you once called home, though nothing but a rotting, makeshift bed remained of that past. Even Janna had left this place.

You had noticed she hadn’t been around much for a year. A long time for her to be away at sea…if she was even out at sea at all. 

To say her disappearance didn’t worry you would be a lie. She may be an emotionless wind spirit but she was still the thing that had raised you. You still found love for her in your heart. 

You ducked under the surface of the inky black waters, swimming forward till you popped up at the edge of the pool. Silco unbent his legs from his chest only to criss cross them, making it easier to lean closer to you and your utter shock. 

“Shocking, right?” Silco's seafoam eyes tracked you as you placed your arms on the stone floor beside him. 

“Shocking is quite the understatement.” You let your feet kick aimlessly through the waters, enjoying the feel against your skin. It’d been too long since you’d been swimming like this. “She--with who? Connol?” Silco nodded. 

“It would seem.”

“Damn… damn .” Silco nodded in agreement. “What--I mean--I’m happy for her.” Silco raised an eyebrow at you. 

“Are you?” He teased. 

“ Yes .” You huffed back. “I’m just…worried.” Silco again nodded.

“Yes…as am I.” You scooted closer to him then. “She made us promise to make Zaun a reality for her child.” 

“And it will become reality.” You confirmed only for Silco to sigh deeply. 

“It’s been years .” He murmured. “We’ve continued to let Piltover stomp all over us. We are no closer to freedom let alone Zuan.” 

“You’re giving up?” Silco leveled you with a fierce look. 

“Hardly. I’m just tired of waiting and waiting for the “right moment”.” You hesitated before placing your hand on his knee, rubbing your thumb over the fabric. Silco’s eyes tracked the touch before they found yours again.

“I know we’ve all been patient for a long while, but I think we need to be patient a bit longer. Especially now that Felicia is expecting.” Your mind went down a dark train of thought. Of the reality that pregnancies down here so rarely made it to full term. To the reality that, even if her child was born safe and sound, it could kill her. To the reality of just how little food there truly was to go around and how babies were such fragile things that had a tendency to die before they reached the age of one. “We don’t want to stress her more than I’m sure she is now.” 

Silco nodded, eyes darkening in those very same thoughts you had just had. He placed his hand over yours, turning it so that it would rest in his palm. 

“Do you--” Silco began but seemed to think better of it. You gave his hand a squeeze, pulling yourself further on land to peer more closely into his eyes. 

“Do I…? Come on, don’t hold back on me now.” Silco looked over your face slowly. A slowness he had been doing a lot��more recently. Not that you minded. You quite liked his attention but it still didn’t help you in your mission to keep your feelings for him smothered. 

“Do you wish for children?” You blinked up at him. And blinked again. And again.

“Me? Have…a kid?” Silco shrugged. 

“Just curious. We’ve never talked about such things before.” A pinkish hue began to spread over his cheeks. A pinkish color you had missed seeing on him. 

“Well, I’ve never really thought about it before. I…really didn’t think I’d make it this far in my life.” Silco smoothed his thumb over the back of your hand in a comforting manner that had you fluttering your feet in the water a bit more. “And not to mention I would be a horrid mother.” Silco scoffed. 

“Hardly. You are great with kids.” 

“What kids have you seen me interact with?” 

“Those kids you helped get away from those enforcers.” You thought back to that day which had happened a year ago. All because a few of them had stolen something for some Topside douchebag. It seemed to give those enforcers some grand idea to not only ruin a perfectly nice day, but to invade the stream and connecting lake kids went to swim around in and use unnecessary force to find the little thieves. 

You had been working when it started. Had only showed up because you had been… called there by some tug you still didn’t know what it was. Some tug that felt too much like magic. You’d gotten there just in time to find enforcers trying to drown some of them, others getting dragged away and beaten up, and others trembling in fear looking like they were praying to some god that you knew wouldn’t show up to help them.

You just assumed it had something to do with your magic and their connection to the waters the enforcers were using to try to harm the children with, so you stepped in and ended it.

Of course, you didn’t tell any of your friends that.

Not even Silco, who knew of your magic and who you practically told everything to. 

You just told them you had left work early because you were feeling unwell and stumbled upon the scene by accident. 

You tried to call out to Janna afterward to see if she knew what that--that calling had been but she had never shown and was nowhere to be found. It was then you first figured out she was missing. Had been missing for a while before.

“They don’t count.” You quickly said.

“Why?”

“Because I hardly even spoke to them,” A lie. They had tried to talk your ear off afterward about your magic, but Silco didn’t need to know that. “And because I said so.” Silco huffed.

“Fine. It doesn’t matter because I’ve seen you interact with Viktor and you do so very well.” You chuckled, a smile blooming at the thought of that kid. 

“Viktor is a sweet thing. Only reason I’m good with him. Most kids are like you and I were. Bad-mouthed little ankle biters.” A smile pulled at Silco’s lips. 

“I suppose you're right.” You both huffed and chuckled at the thought of your younger years. 

“What about you?” You asked as your amusement died out. “Do you want a kid?” Silco fell quiet for a long while. You saw a thousand and one thoughts rush behind his seafoam eyes. 

“You have.” You beamed, pulling your hand from his only so you could plant it on the ground, pulling yourself further upward, now at eye level with the very much blushing Silco. “Oh tell me about it, pretty please.” Silco almost seemed to lean away from your eagerness, eyes scanning and scanning over your face as if he couldn’t get enough of it. 

“There’s--nothing to tell.” You rolled your eyes on a groan. 

“I told you what my opinion on the matter was.” 

“Your opinion was hardly a true answer.” You huffed. 

“Fine. No. I don’t think I will have kids. There. Now tell me what you’ve thought of.” A heaviness filled his eyes. A heaviness you’d also been seeing him show more and more often. Always when watching you. Always when you said something to him. You thought maybe you had upset him somehow but he was always quick to speak and shove the look away. 

“I’ve just thought about it since Felicia’s going to have her own.”

“And…?” You egged him on. 

“And I don’t think it could ever become a reality.” You watched him closely. Watched that heaviness flicker through his eyes again.

What was he thinking about? What was he feeling to make his eyes look like that?

“But you would want one? In an ideal world. In Zaun?” Silco watched you just as closely back.  

“I…suppose.” You grinned up at him, legs kicking upward and making the water splash about. 

“I think you would be a good father.” Silco rolled his eyes. 

“Are you just saying that because I said it about you?” You shook your head. 

“Nope. You also are good with Viktor.” Silco gave a small huff in amusement. 

“Well, Viktor is the ideal child. Very sweet. Doesn’t steal flasks from random strangers off the street and explode them before their very eyes.” Your grin only grew wider as he spoke of your very first meeting. 

“Well, I also don’t think he would beat other children up and then refuse help for his boo-boos.” Silco narrowed his eyes, leaning ever closer to you. 

“I didn’t get any boo-boos and I won those fights fair and square.” 

“And I did go through all that trouble to replace your flask with a much nicer one.” You responded, bringing a finger up to tap at the flask which sat in a pocket on the inside lining of his jacket. 

“It is very nice.” You smirked. 

“You’re very welcome.” Silco gave another small laugh, lips relaxing into an easy smile. His seafoam eyes started up their scanning of your face all over again. A scan that made your heart beat painfully against the cage you had trapped it in to ward it against whatever deeper feelings you had for him. 

Your breath lodged itself in your throat when he brought his hand up to brush away a droplet of water from your cheek. And then to do it again closer to your lips. 

You--you didn’t know what to do. Didn’t know whether to pull even closer so that your noses might brush or jump back into the inky waters to disappear from view. 

But what you did know is you liked the touch. You wanted it to keep going on and on despite your struggle to fight back your feelings. 

Silco said your name softly in question and you thought shit was this--was he going to lean in closer?

“Are you…are you human?” The question took you off guard. Made quickly reel back all those feelings you had stupidly let slip from your iron hold of them. 

“What kind of a question is that?” You huffed, letting your body dip back into the waters, your hands the only thing still holding you to the surface. “Of course I am.” But Silco continued to watch you too carefully. “Why did you even ask me that?”

“Because…you feel different somehow.” Silco shrugged like you weren’t talking about the one topic you avoided speaking of like the plague.

“Are you trying to piss me off?” Silco sighed your name.

“I’m serious. Magic is rare.” 

“You know I don’t like talking about it.” You fully let go of the pool edge then, making to disappear like you had first thought until Silco’s hand shot downward, grabbing hold of your wrist. The action nearly had your heart stopping in your chest.

“You once told me you trusted me enough to tell me those things. That you wanted me to know.” That pink cross over his cheeks once more, burning brighter than before. “It's…just me.” 

Even when you wished to forget about your feelings for him, even when you wished to not talk of your magic, you knew you couldn’t deny him. 

Not ever. 

It was a flaw. Something that should have been corrected a long time ago but was left to fester and grow within you like a fungus. 

“I…know I was born. Only humans are born, right?”

“Magic is mysterious.” You huffed. 

“You don’t need to tell me that.” You thought of Janna. Of all the things she had told you in your youth. 

You thought of that calling . Of how those kids had been praying for help before you had arrived. 

“Maybe…maybe I am but I’m…not?” Silco blinked at you, looking just as confused as you felt. “You remember I told you how my guardian found me, yes?” Silco nodded. 

“When you were small. In the water.” You nodded back at him.

“She’s…well she’s not human.” Silco's eyes sparked at this. 

“Truly?” 

“Annoyingly so. Her “human” body isn’t even human. It’s more elven and even then you can tell she’s other.” Silco gently pulled you back towards the edge of the pool as you spoke and you let him without any fuss. “She spends most of her time as The Winds. She’s old. Came here when The Gray first came to be.” 

“Winds… your guardian is--she’s real?” Of course, he knew of Janna. Most miners did. She uses most of her energy trying to keep them safe from the choking smog that seeped through the tunnels they were forced to work in; it was only natural for them to appreciate her, even when some didn’t believe.

“Yes, but she’s a lot more irritating than you all give her credit for.” Silco chuckled then. 

“She took you in because of your magic?” You nodded. 

“She says our magic was what led her to me. I don’t know much else besides that.” You answered, worrying your lip between your teeth. “You said I feel different? Like in a bad way?” 

“What? No. Like--other. Like…you’ve always given me the feel of the sea, even when I’ve never been sailing out on it. Like if I were to close my eyes right now, you might melt into the very waters you are in.” He paused for a moment, eyes flickering over your features once more. Something like…worry? Nervousness growing at what he was about to say. “When you hold me, I feel as if I am in the water's embrace.” 

“And…is that a bad feeling? Feeling like water has hold of you--like it might drag you under?” You asked, voice coming out low as if scared of the answer. 

“No. Never.” He spoke quickly. “I find…peace.” Your heart beat just a bit faster then.

“You don’t let me hug you often. How can I believe you?” You asked, partially teasing so that you could try to regain some semblance of control over yourself. You thought, almost hoped , he would tease you back, but what you hadn’t expected was him to stand and begin pulling his jacket off. “W-what are you doing?” Your eyes flew wide as he kicked his shoes off, leaving him in his patched-up socks. 

Your eyes only grew wider when he pulled his shirt off. The first grayish-white layer came off, followed quickly by his bright red shirt, giving you a full view of that thin, yet undoubtedly strong body he typically kept hidden beneath it all. 

You weren’t completely unfamiliar with seeing him shirtless. You had once lived at The Last Drop and the boys had a tendency to sleep in nothing but their boxers. 

But it didn’t matter because you hadn’t seen him in such a way in years . And you couldn’t help yourself as you looked over every inch of exposed skin. Drank in every scar, bruise, and lean plain he was made up of. Drank in that blush that grew richer and spread down the sides of his neck.

Couldn’t help but feel yourself grow restless at the sight of him.  

“Silco, what are--what are you doing? ” You repeated, not knowing what else to say in that moment. 

“I can’t swim.” And before you could ask another question or shout at him to stop, he was cannonballing into your pool. You panicked at his warning, diving instantly after him. 

It didn’t take you long to find him, your magic helping you feel for him in the darkness. You quickly grabbed and yanked him back to the surface, where he gave a gasp for air. 

“What the fuck!” You hissed, struggling a bit to keep both of you above the surface. To ease the struggle you commanded the waters to flow beneath him to keep him up. But he didn’t seem at all bothered by this, because the sound of his laughter filled your ears. 

Laugher that had your annoyance dissipating nearly all at once.

“Since when can you not swim?” You shouted as you began to swim him across the small pool till your feet found the sandy bottom in the shallows. You watched him move a bit of his long hair that had fallen out of his bun behind his ear as he found his footing. 

A loose bit of hair your fingers itched in their want to move for him.

“Since forever.” He spoke between his dying laughter. 

“Well get ready 'cause I’m going to teach you. Ridiculous.” You huffed with a playful shake of your head. You knew he was stubborn and hesitant to ask for anything for himself but this was something you could have taught him a long time ago. 

You had taught Sevika to swim so she wouldn’t be so nervous to sail on your Boss’ ship. Taught Vander and even helped teach Viktor, despite his leg. 

Swimming was essential. It could make the difference between life and death. Especially since your friend group was always messing around on the docks. 

You went to pull your arm away from where you had it wrapped around his waist, but Silco grabbed your forearm, stopping you. Your skin began to burn so hot you thought it might evaporate the water clinging to it. 

“If you insist.” His voice came out softer than you would have thought it would. 

Why was--you were again confused. 

Confused about him jumping into your pool and about why he was trying to be so…so close to you all of a sudden. 

“Yeah. I do.” You playfully snapped back. Silco’s lips pulled into an easy smile, his fingers drawing lazy circles over your skin that was making your brain buzz loudly . Making you feel all fidgety on the inside. 

Making you suddenly remember he was shirtless. That you were practically shirtless except for the ratty sports bra you typically wore to swim. 

“But…why?” Silco’s seafoam eyes glanced towards your lips as you spoke. 

“To show you.” He simply said. Words that only further confused you. 

“I--show me what?” Silco chuckled, bringing his other hand up to brush more water off your cheek. To hold it. To make your mind switch off and leave you only able to think about him touching your face and arm. At how close he was. 

“To show you that I don’t think anything about you is a bad thing.” Your lips parted on the slightest shuddering inhale. “That I would willingly slip away in your waters because I would be surrounded by you. Because it's you.” 

“Silco--I--” You didn’t know what to say. What to do . Could hardly even think past the pounding in your ears. Not when he was coming closer . 

How was he getting that close? 

Why ? 

“I don’t--I don’t know what to say to that.” You managed to breathe out, eyes flickering from his thin lips to his seafoam eyes which were full of that--that heavy look again. 

A look that, now that you were so close, made you think it was longing . 

Longing for--for you?

“You don’t have to say anything if you don’t wish.” You swallowed the growing dryness in your mouth back, only for your lips to all but gasp back open when you felt the tip of his nose brush against yours. 

“What…what are you doing?” You whispered, fingertips digging lightly into the skin of his side as if to ground yourself. To make sure that this was real. That this wasn’t some messed up dream. 

“Showing you.” He whispered right back, breath ghosting over your lips. 

He inched closer ever slowly. So slow as if to give you a moment to say something more. To push him away. To stop him. 

Lips brush against your lips, sending a shock through your spine. A tingling warmth that stuck to your lips and pressed closer till he was kissing you. 

This…this was happening. 

It was finally happening after years of pining after him. After dreaming of this very moment.

It was-- intoxicating . 

Driving you to seek more to sate that drug-like addiction his lips were poured into you. A rough yet gentle hand moved over your skin to find rest on your back. A hand that guided you ever closer . 

And yet--yet even though you finally had it, your brain began shouting at you. 

Why?

Why now? 

Why when he had never once tried before? 

Why on some random Wednesday? 

Why when just last Wednesday you had seen him with another girl? A girl Benzo had laughingly congratulated him on finally winning over. 

Why when he had been pining after someone else?

Why, why, why?

You shoved abruptly away, water sloshing at your legs as if to try and soothe your hurt. 

“Are--” Silco started, breath heavy on his lips from the recent lack of it. “Are you alright?” He sounded almost--nervous. Anxious as you continued to place distance between you and him. 

Game . 

He likes to play the game. You’ve seen it multiple times before. 

He’s bored. He got bored and wanted a challenge. Or maybe he thought he could win the game against you easily? 

You didn’t want to play. Not when you truly had feelings for him. Not when playing would only get your feelings hurt.

Your eyes burned as you started out of the water, grabbing for your bag which held your overlayers. 

“I should get back.” You somehow managed to get out past your tightening throat.

“Back? Get back where?” The sound of the water moving alerted you to Silco’s exiting the pool. You quickly tugged the dress you had packed on over your soaked skin and clothes. 

“I--uh--Sevika. She’s waiting for me.” You pressed your fingers into your right eyelid, trying to rub away that burning. 

“Sevika--wait a moment.” But you didn’t wait. You slung your tote over your shoulder and started for the cave mouth. “Wait--” Silco grabbed your wrist in his hand, fingers feeling even colder thanks to the chill air and their dampness from the water. “I--are you not going to look at me?” You ran your free hand over your mouth to keep him from hearing your elevated and shaky breath. “I didn’t mean--I’m sorry if I overstepped. I just--well I thought…” His voice died out then, leaving his words hanging in the air. 

“It’s okay.” You schooled your face as best you could into that of its normal easy-going features before you turned to face him. His face was in that same calm it usually sat but his eyes--his eyes were raging like a stormy sea. So many emotions flashing through those eyes you could hardly even pick up on one of them. 

“No. No, it’s not. I--I overstepped. I can see I’ve upset you.” You shook your head, all but yanking a smile to your lips. 

“It’s okay. Really. I just--I have to get going.” Silco watched you for a moment longer. A moment when that heaviness returned to wrestle with the rest of those emotions in his eyes. 

“I--why do I feel like you are?” He asked softly. And just as softly you pulled your wrist from his hand. A hand whose fingers dragged along your own as if to weakly try to keep you there. 

“I’m fine.” You held your hand to your chest as if his touch had burned you. As if to keep your heart shielded. “I’ll…I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?” Silco watched you as you began to back away again. 

“Okay.” You gave him one last, all too forced smile before rushing from the cave. A rush that grew into a run as your eyes blurred and your mind screamed at you for letting him get so close. Screamed at you for being such a coward.

Silco stood in that dank cave for a while. Just staring at the exit which you had rushed out of. Just thinking and thinking and thinking about what had gone wrong? About why the hell he had tried to kiss you in the first place when you didn’t want to. 

He thought you wanted to. He thought he finally saw that you might want to…with him . 

He was wrong. 

Very much wrong and now he had upset you. 

Very much so. 

Silco pulled his clothes back on and made his way out of your childhood home. 

Why had he done that?

It was so stupid. So, so stu--

Gods but he had wanted to. Had wanted to ever since you had saved him from that gang on the docks when you were teens. Had wanted to ever since you had told him you wouldn’t tell Vander of his failure and meant it. 

He’d chased many girls before. Had caught many of them too, but you-- you …he didn’t want to chase them like he wanted to chase you. You who he would risk drowning in the sea if it meant he could be by your side. 

But…you didn’t want that. Obviously, you didn’t want that. He was just trying to figure out why he had been so stupid in his thinking you might want to chase him back.

The Last Drop was rather packed for a Wednesday night. Though, he guessed it made sense, wanting to have a little fun and drink your sorrows away when cave-ins had started to become more frequent. When enforcers were marching through the streets looking for blood anywhere they could get it. 

Silco glanced towards the table he and his friends usually occupied and instantly regarded doing so. Regretted it because Sevika sat there, blunt between her lips as she smirked triumphantly at an easy win against Connol and Felicia. 

You were nowhere in sight. He scanned over the entirety of the bar to make sure of it. 

“Did she come find you?” Silco couldn’t have stopped his feet and mouth from moving even if he had wanted to. Sevika hardly glanced up at him as Connol began to deal out more cards for a new game. 

“Who?” A frustrated hiss shot from Silco’s grit teeth at Sevika’s words, hand all but slamming down on the table before her. Sevika blinked slowly at this. Blink slowly, leaning back in her seat to look at him near bored.

“Who else would I be looking for?” Sevika pulled her blunt from her lips, blowing a line of smoke into his face he only narrowed his gaze at. 

“I don’t know, Silco. You go lookin’ around for lots of girls.” Silco gruffed, pulling away from the table. 

You hadn’t come to find her. You would be by her side trying and failing to win the game if you had. 

He couldn’t help the small hurt that flashed through his chest at the lie you had given him. At your…your rejection of him. 

His eyes snagged on Felicia then, who was giving Silco an almost knowing smile. Caught on her pink painted fingernails running through Connol’s short cropped hair. 

A small touch. One Silco ached to feel from you. 

“You okay?” Felicia asked, pulling Silco from his hurt-filled thoughts. 

“I’m fine.” Felicia hummed, looking like she didn’t believe him at all.

“You two got into a fight huh?” Silco narrowed his eyes down at his friend. 

“Hardly.” She gave another hum, keeping that amused disbelief plastered on her face.

“Really? She is the only one who gets you all fussy like this.” Normally, Silco would laugh and play along but--but not now. Not tonight. 

“Keep your nose out of it. It’s none of your concern.” Silco snapped too harshly. A harshness Felicia only shrugged at but one that pulled Connol’s rust-colored eyes to look up at him. 

“No need to take it out on Felicia, yeah?” He spoke calmly. A calm that carried a very loud warning to back off within it.

“You heard the guy. Nothing to take out. She’s not bothering him. He’s unbothered.” Sevika chimed in, only making Silco’s mood worse. Felicia rolled her eyes, patting Connol’s shoulder as she started to stand. 

“Let’s talk, Silco.” Felicia nodded towards the bar.

“There is nothing to talk about.” He tried to keep the bite from his voice, but it slashed through his words regardless. “There was no fight. There was nothing. Nothing--” 

You came through the doors then, dripping water everywhere. More water than you had left the cave with.

He knew instantly you must have run to the docks and dove into the waters there. 

“Here we go,” Sevika muttered, only adding fuel to the fire burning in Silco’s belly. 

You caught sight of him and almost paled . Like you thought he wouldn’t be here. Of course, he would be here. He lived here. 

“Go for a swim?” Silco couldn’t stop the words from spilling from his lips as you came closer. 

“Uh--yeah.” You spoke as you came to a stop before him and the table. 

“You said you needed to go find Sevika.” You glanced Sevika’s way like she might give you an answer. An answer Silco knew she wouldn’t provide just by the sound of her shuffling cards. 

“I can’t go swim?” 

“You had just come from a swim.” He could see your frustration beginning to boil in your eyes. Could see he was toeing a very dangerous line and he knew he shouldn’t be this--this hurt. Knew he was only lashing out to lash out but he just couldn’t stop himself. 

Why couldn’t he stop? 

Why couldn’t he just walk away ?

“What does it matter to you?” You quickly questioned back. 

“It matters because you lied .” He responded just as fast. You rolled your eyes at him.

“I’m not in the mood for this.” You huffed, but Silco wasn’t done. 

“If you lied about such a simple thing as going to see a friend, then how do I know you aren’t lying about other things?” Stop . He needed to stop but his hurt was too strong. Was awakening his anger which he had been trying to keep under control ever since he was a kid.

“What--” You have a huff in your own anger. “If I lied then you lied.” 

“There was no lie.” You watched him for a long moment. A moment that had your own hurt flash through your eyes. A hurt he had seen flashing through them when you had left earlier. 

“I am not in the mood for your game, Silco. Never have been.” You all but hissed at him. Game? What game? He didn’t know what you were talking about. “But there are plenty here that might want to give it a go.” Silco pulled closer so that he could lean down to catch your eyes fully. 

He thought of your lips. Of how soft they had felt against his. How they held a bit of salt from the waters you both had just swam through. How you had kissed him back .

Why had you kissed him back? Why did you run away?

“And what is that supposed to mean?” You bore your dagger-sharp anger right back into his eyes. 

“It means go find someone to fuck and leave me be.” Silco felt those daggers skewer right through him at your words. 

“Maybe I will.” Again that hurt flashed through your eyes. Hurt you quickly masked with anger. 

“Go do it then.” You shot back. 

“Fine.” Silco shrugged. 

“Fine.” You mimicked. Neither of you moved. Not until Vander’s voice filled the space between you.

“What’s goin’ on you two?” You were the first to look away. He watched your eyes shift when they fell onto Vander. Soften.

Oh , it made his blood boil. Made his fists clenched so tight his fingernails dug into his palms.

“I was just leaving.” You pulled a half smile to your lips that had Vander sighing.

“You just got here, sweethea--”

“Don’t call her that.” Silco snapped before he could even think. Vander turned his cool, gray eyes onto him then, a frown pulling deeply at his lips.

A finger was shoved into Silco’s chest, a small pain blooming there. It was you and you looked very much over his poor behavior. 

“He can call me whatever the fuck he wants to call me.” You bit, pressing your finger harder into him. “You don’t get any say in that.” 

“Oh yes, I--”

“ Enough ,” Vander commanded, cutting Silco off from saying anything further. “What the hell’s got you two like this now?” 

“Nothing!” You and Silco both hissed. You both turned to find the other's eye again. 

Hurt . That’s all he saw in your eyes. 

Gods Silco was an ass. Gods Silco had messed up. 

“Nothing happened.” You spoke in a too- quiet voice. Said it like you were speaking directly to Silco. Your finger fell away from his chest then. He wanted to grab your wrist to keep it there, but his body couldn’t seem to move. “I just came to say hi. I’m…busy.” Vander sighed through his nose at your words, but nodded. 

“Alright, sweetheart.” The nickname had always grated at Silco’s nerves, but it shredded at them tonight. 

Silco watched you walk back through the bar. Watched you slam open the doors and let them slam shut behind you. 

He almost ran after you. He should have run after you but…he was still too angry. Too hurt. Too stubborn .

Felicia gave Connol another loving pat on the shoulder before rushing after you herself, not sparing him a single glance as she left. Sevika grumbled at this, throwing the cards back into the table. 

“What happened?” Vander asked again, voice more stern then it had been with you around. Silco waved him off. 

“You heard her. Nothing.” He made to walk past Vander to head to his room, but his brother grabbed his arm and pulled him to a stop. 

“You two butt heads a lot. Enough I can see this was different.” Silco yanked his arm from Vander’s hold on a scoff.

“Leave out of it.” 

“You made a move on her?” Silco leveled Vander with a look that had made many before turn tails and beat it. But not him. Not his brother. 

The worst part was that Vander had always hit the nail on the head when it came to Silco’s feelings for you. 

“Just talk to her. Tell her what you're feeling . ” Vander had told Silco many many times over the span of time they’d known you. Silco had always brushed his brother off. Always denied his feelings for you. But Vander was no fool. He knew. 

“Nothing happened.” Silco insisted, though his voice having lost a bit of its bite was a sure give away that something did . 

“I hope to the gods you meant it. She’s our family . Not someone you can have your fun with and leave.” He let go of Silco’s arm then. 

He wanted to hiss sharp words at his brother. Wanted to use the man as his own personal punching bag, but Silco’s feet were moving before they even caught up with his brain. 

They brought him up the stairs, down the small hallways, and up onto the roof where he fit a cigarette between his lips and watched as you marched off back through the dark streets. 

His lips itched to call out for you to come and have a smoke with him. To come sit with him and talk about anything . 

But again, he didn’t. Just watched and willed the heavy smoke filling his lungs to ease the onslaught of thoughts and feelings rushing through him.

Nothing.

There has always been nothing.

Though it didn’t hurt any less, knowing he could never have you.

Previous | Next

[local-crying-boy]

🅂🄸🄻🄲🄾

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

"𝕀'𝕞 𝕜𝕟𝕠𝕔𝕜𝕖𝕕 𝕦𝕡"

𝙿𝚊𝚒𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐:𝙿𝚊𝚜𝚝!𝚂𝚒𝚕𝚌𝚘 𝚇 𝙾𝙲

𝙶𝚎𝚗𝚛𝚎: 𝙾𝚗𝚎-𝚜𝚑𝚘𝚝,

𝚆𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜: 𝚂𝙿𝙾𝙻𝙸𝙴���𝚂 𝙵𝙾𝚁 𝙰𝚁𝙲𝙰𝙽𝙴 𝚂𝙴𝙰𝚂𝙾𝙽 2 𝙰𝙲𝚃 2

𝚂𝚞𝚖𝚖𝚊𝚛𝚢: 𝚁𝚊𝚖𝚊𝚗𝚝𝚒, 𝙵𝚎𝚕𝚒𝚌𝚒𝚊, 𝚂𝚒𝚕𝚌𝚘 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚅𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛 𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚛𝚎𝚕𝚊𝚡 𝚒𝚗 𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝙻𝚊𝚜𝚝 𝙳𝚛𝚘𝚙, 𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝙵𝚎𝚕𝚒𝚌𝚒𝚊 𝚜𝚞𝚍𝚍𝚎𝚗𝚕𝚢 𝚍𝚛𝚘𝚙𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚗𝚎𝚠𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚜𝚑𝚎 𝚒𝚜 𝚙𝚛𝚎𝚐𝚗𝚊𝚗𝚝. 𝙰𝚏𝚝𝚎𝚛, 𝚁𝚊𝚖𝚊𝚗𝚝𝚒 𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚗𝚜 𝚝𝚘 𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚋𝚘𝚢𝚏𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚗𝚍, 𝚂𝚒𝚕𝚌𝚘, 𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚢 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚊𝚕𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚍𝚛𝚘𝚙 𝚜𝚒𝚖𝚒𝚕𝚊𝚛 𝚗𝚎𝚠𝚜.

𝚆𝚘𝚛𝚍 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚝: 1.8k

𝙰/𝚗: 𝚙𝚘𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚋𝚕𝚎 𝚒𝚗𝚜𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚘 𝚊 𝚏𝚞𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚎 𝙰𝚛𝚌𝚊𝚗𝚎 𝙾𝙲?

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

The slow, familiar music that started playing on the jukebox filled Ramanti's ears, causing a small smile to pull on her lips. Her green eyes fell over to her boyfriend, then her close friend who was cleaning a cup, but they quickly fell down to her sketch again.

"What's the occasion?" Vander asked, looking over at Felicia who was slowly starting to sway with her hands on the edges of the old jukebox.

"Hmm." She hummed first. "Can't a lady just be in the mood for a familiar song?"

A smirk pulled at the corner of Vander's mouth when he heard the blue haired woman speak, a chuckle was heard and he swung the cloth over his shoulder. "Not this lady, and not this song."

"Leave the woman alone, Vander." Ramanti laughed out, glancing over he shoulder to look at Felicia, who was now taking her time to walk over to the bar with her arms moving in time with the music. "Good music is good music."

Vander was smiling down at himself at Felicia's dancing, while Silco was focused on his writing. Gods, it was rough to wonder what was going through that min, he couldn't seem to turn off politics and business even when the four of them were meant to be relaxing.

Felicia's dancing ceased when she got close to the bar, her arms dropping so she could lean them against the counter, a hand holding the drink that Vander poured for the four of them.

"Tonight a hare-brained scheme these two bozos," The grey eyed woman looked up at her bartender friend, Silco had paused in his writing and Ramanti's head tilted up to smile over at the two men. ",cooked up to turn a dank crank in the earth into a thriving, healthy community, became a reality."

Vander and Felicia's glasses clung against each other's, while Silco didn't move with his and the sketching woman was left to hold her glass up to the air.

"Tonight, eh?" Vander questioned. "You hear that Bozo 2? We made it, we're done."

"Oh, you're sadly mistaken." Silco said, picking up his drink he had from before Vander's pouring of the alcoholic beverage, motioning it around while he held it. "I'm Bozo 1."

"A night of revelations." Vander responded before downing his drink.

Ramanti chuckled faintly to herself, stuck staring at the red liquid in her glass, swirling it around as she moved her wrist. "He fooled me."

Silco and Felicia held their drinks to one another, the blue haired woman only staring at hers, similar to Ramanti, as Vander placed his empty glass on the counter and as Silco drank his beverage.

"I'm knocked up." Felicia said rather suddenly, her glass now placed on the counter as well, her words causing the other three to completely growing silent.

The three shared quick glances with one another as Felicia's gaze was fixated on the bar counter, her chin resting on her palm. Vander was quick to change her alcoholic beverage with an orange juice, sticking a straw in the cup before Felicia moved to pull it closer to her.

“Well, shit.” Ramanti breathed out, a surprised, breathless laugh escaping her lips.

"A girl." She simply spoke, taking the straw and bringing it to her mouth.

"How do you know." Vander questioned, his arms crossed over the counter, pushing his weight purely on his arms.

Felicia shrugged after taking her sip of juice, "Wasn't really part of my plan, but guess that's everything when you're living week to week."

Silco closed his book, grabbing his glass that Vander poured him and walked closer towards Vander and Felicia. Ramanti scooted up from her place sitting on top of the counter, manoeuvring so that she didn't knock off anything that was already placed on top of it.

“What did Connol say?” Vander pressed, his hand grasping what would have been Felicia’s drink.

“I haven’t told him.” She paused for a moment, taking a small breath before continuing. “Working up the nerve.”

“Ah, so we’re the favourites?” Ramanti asked with a grin, crossing her legs and leaning both elbows on each of her knees. “Does that mean one of us are the Godparents?”

Felicia rolled her eyes at her old friend’s jokes, scoffing quietly and waving Ramanti off with a wave of the hand. Silco’s hand lightly moved up and patted the redhead’s knees, a mock at comforting the light and silent dismissal.

She rested her head on her palm again, she almost looked… defeated. “I don’t know anything about kids, I get sweaty being alone with one.”

“Hey, you’re going to be a great mother.” Vander reassured, his gaze never faltering from Felicia’s face.

“Shut up, I’m not ready for that” through her rude tone, there was a hint of playfulness in her words, a small smile subtly pulling at her lips.

She started swirling her orange juice with the straw she was given, starting to rant. “I started trying to come up with a name, then it hits me that this one word is a division she’s going to live with her whole life.”

“I can’t protect her from all the shit down here and work out how to be a parent at the same time.” She removed her hand from the straw, crossing her arms over the counter and looking up and Vander again, smirking. “Then I realised, I don’t have to.”

“Huh, why’s that?” Vander questioned.

“Because the second I told you, I put you on the hook.” Felicia wandered, glancing over at Silco, moving to rest her chin on the back of her finger. “You two are going to figure this Zaun thing out.”

She pointed her index finger at Vander, then at Silco.“I don’t care if you have to carve it out the bedrock, covered in blisters.”

“You not allowed to fail anymore. For her. For me.”

“What’s the point if we can’t raise an ankle biter or two?” Vander asked rhetorically, glancing over at Silco, eyes wondering to Ramanti with a suggestive grin.

“Shove it, Vander.” The redhead quickly said, but gave a small nod to Felicia. “Trust these two knuckleheads to sort out Zaun, though.”

“To Zaun then.” Silco said after chuckling, holding his drink to the other three.“Blisters and bedrock.”

“Blisters and bedrock.” Vander and Ramanti said in unison, all four clinking their drinks together.

There was a moment of silence again, the song died out when it finished and the four sipped from each of their cups.

Then, Vander spoke up.“I’ve always liked the name Violet.”

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

It was starting to get late, even for the undercity’s slums. The lights at The Last Drop were slowly getting turned off and Vander was starting to make subtle jabs at the three others to get them to leave soon.

Ramanti had news to share too, but she needed a good moment and she wasn’t about to let her friends be the first ones to know instead of her own boyfriend. She wondered if she should tell Vander at the same time, Silco and Vander were like brothers and they were a package deal.

Vander could already tell something was wrong, Ramanti was starting to get antsy ever since Felicia revealed she was pregnant.

“Silco.” Ramanti called out eventually, he was packing up his stuff.

Vander’s eyes glanced up when he heard his friend’s name, curiously gauging what was going on. The skinner brunette looked up and over to his partner, a quizzical look on his face.

“Can we talk?” She asked, her voice quieter than before, but when Silco motioned as if to say ‘we are now’, Ramanti glanced at Vander then back at Silco. “Alone?”

There was a flash look of concern on Silco's face, his eyes lingered on Vander's for a moment as if to question if he knew what was going on - even though Silco knew that the odds of Vander knowing what you wanted to talk about was slim - and the man was met with a simple shrug of the larger man's shoulders.

Silco turned back to his love, he was almost hesitant to answer. Almost. "Okay."

The two went to a more private area, they both stilled in the location and Ramanti's hands found Silco's, wrapping her long fingers around his palms. However, the action only caused the taller man's brow to furrow, he was looking down at their hands, noticing how the curly haired woman's grasp tightened around his hands.

"What's going on?" He asked, though, the question subconsciously came out as more of a demand, like he was commanding her to tell him what was going on, what caused her to act like this.

"Silco," She started softly, a certain type of smile on her face that would usually warm Silco's heart to the core with one glance. "My dear."

"You're being sentimental." He observed quietly, one his hands parting from her smaller ones to cup her cheek delicately, his thumb slowly caressing her skin. "And you're stalling."

"I am." She confirmed with a small laugh, her gaze falling.

However, her eyes didn't linger on the ground for long, Silco was quick to make her look back up. "Why?"

"I need to tell you something." Ramanti spoke, her voice so faint that Silco struggled to hear it.

A quick laugh escaped his lips. "Well, that much I gathered."

There was stillness once more between the two lovers, Silco didn't like it one bit.

"Tell me." He requested softly, the few times he honestly let his voice drop down to the level of calmness, reserved only for Ramanti.

Ramanti took a deep breath, she was sure if she wasn't having the closeness of Silco's hand on her, she wouldn't be able to tell him outright. Hell, she was wondering if she was able to do it without downing several shots of anything she could get her hands on.

"I'm knocked up too." She blurted out swiftly, she couldn't help but keep her eyes fixated on her boyfriend's, trying to gauge out his reaction.

Unfortunately for Ramanti, Silco was completely and utterly frozen. If she had decided to take a step back, Silco's hand would have been suspended in mid-air where he would have been previously holding her cheek.

"Silco." She called, her voice wavering with uncertainty. "Silco, did you hear me?"

"I heard you." He confirmed with an unnatural silent-like octave. "I heard you."

"Are you going to say something, or are you just going to look at me like a lost puppy?" The woman questioned, forcing an amused laugh out of her mouth to try and cover up the nerves that pooled in the bottom of her stomach.

"You're pregnant." He muttered softly, his eyes falling down to Ramanti's stomach. before finding her eyes again.

He had a blank expression on his face, but it swift to uplift into a bright grin. His arms quick to embrace the smaller woman as disbelieving laughter bubbled out of him, beyond his control.

"Bloody-" Ramanti squealed out when she felt Silco overcome with such happiness, but she, too, ended up in a fit of laughter soon after he started to pepper her face with kisses.

“You’re pregnant.” He repeated, both of his hands holding on each side of Ramanti’s face. There was this stupid grin on his face, one that only encouraged the redhead’s smile to widen.

“Yes, I am.” She whispered.

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

Masterlist

[silcoitus]

WAT IF srry caps wat if reader/y/n has to seduce someone for a mission (she works for silco) but silco yknow is jealous (also srry I put she it can be gn) love ya.

-JL

Thank you for this request, JL! This was fun to write. Also if Hoskel sounds ooc, it's cause I didn't care enough about him to do more research on him lmaoooooo

Honeypot

Rating: Explicit—Minors DNI

Word count: 3.2k

Beta reader: @medic-simp

Tags: silco x f!reader, jealous silco, possessive silco, sevika, councilor hoskel, rough sex, penis in vagina sex, left open for a second part because i can’t help myself apparently,

It's been decided that you will seduce Councilor Hoskel in order to give Sevika and her team enough time to secure an important document from inside his estate. The only complication? Your boyfriend Silco is not enthused about the idea of watching you flirt with another man.

Read on AO3

A/N: In classic me fashion, I left an opening for a second part. Gotta go on the opera "date" to finish the mission!

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

Join my taglist!

[velvetvampyric]

Chapter 9 “developed a taste for you.”

Is posted! Hope yous enjoy! <3

[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.

[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. 

[nausicaaandhermouth]

Like A Bird To You — One

masterlist

victorian!silco x f!oc [6.9k] [1/12] [AO3]

cw: i give silco a last name

summary: Escaping an oppressive marriage and family, Selene Shrike finds herself turning to East Piltover’s de-facto leader, believing him to be the only one with sufficient power to grant her autonomy and retribution against her family.

story tags: victorian themes, f!oc, politics, slow burn, marriage of convenience, age-gap, yearning, sexual tension, eventual romance, silco & oc flirt through ideology convos, oc is morally dubious, eventual smut, implied/referenced/attempted rape, slightly angsty, not betad

a/n short-form multi-chap incoming! been playing around with writing styles and this was one of the outcomes, so here ya go. set in piltover still, but some aspects of victorian england are present. this is basically a songfic, shoutout hozier's 'shrike' and 'be' for inspiring this mess

felt so pretentious while writing this but to fuck with that!! it was fun to write, it's like being possessed by an ancient spirit telling me to write sexual tension and smut for fictional characters.

i dedicate this to the merriam-webster dictionary website. learnt fuckton words just to write this.

requests are open & lmk if you want to join my taglist and for which kind (silco/viktor/a specific story/etc)

How readily the heart, when imperilled, warms to the notion of murder. Such was the lamentable case for one Selene Shrike. It must be noted that she was not, by nature, of a particularly homicidal character—quite the contrary; even in her manner of dress, she bore a striking resemblance to a librarian whose deity was routine, rather than a miscreant of the criminal persuasion.

However, it came to pass that the most unfortunate of circumstances (her husband, Leonard) had befallen (returned from his daily labours) to her immediate vicinity (within the confines of her kitchen) whilst she found herself in a most precarious state of mind (consumed by a scarlet madness so profound that even the most vibrant rose might have cause to envy her).

Selene had been engaged in the preparation of the evening's repast, deftly wielding a carving knife, when she was confronted by her unsuspecting spouse. He, with little wit (and indeed, he had never been blessed with an abundance of it to begin with), proceeded with a shocking lack of caution to inquire as to why she had not instructed the household staff to make haste with the supper preparations.

It was, as fate would have it, the singular day when the domestic help had been granted leave of absence—a fact which Leonard, in his perpetual state of forgetfulness (that is if it was committed to memory in the first place), had failed to recall. Thus, the responsibility of serving the evening meal had fallen squarely upon Selene's shoulders.

Leonard stood in such tantalising proximity, with an air of nonchalance, as if beseeching the embrace of her blade. His very demeanour seemed to wave the crimson flag of incompetence before Selene’s eyes, as though she were a raging bull provoked beyond measure. Her grip upon the implement had whitened in a most alarming fashion, her molars grinding against one another with a ferocity that threatened to shatter the enamel, and every muscle in her being was clenched as though she were a coiled spring.

She envisioned the terrible arc of her arm as it might plunge the blade into his chest—that ghastly crack of bone, that gush of crimson—but no. It was a notion most abhorrent. It was, indeed, a contemplation of utmost wickedness. And what would become of her should she succumb to such base instincts? Her father, that loathsome creature, would undoubtedly lay claim to her person once more. Her financial autonomy (which, in truth, was never hers to begin with, but Leonard was exceptionally susceptible to her honeyed words, such that it was as though she possessed her own fortune) would slip from her grasp. Moreover, she would be compelled to face the even more abominable horrors that lurked beneath her father's oppressive roof.

Thus, in a moment of agonising clarity, Selene found herself opting for a fate far worse. Something along the lines of vengeance: a notion most unbecoming of a lady of her station, which she would have undoubtedly realised had she afforded herself but a minute more of contemplation before hastily departing her domicile.

Alas, Selene Shrike was, much to her detriment, of hare-brained inclinations. This characteristic, while occasionally lending a certain vivacity to her demeanour, more often than not led her into circumstances of a most precarious nature. This particular occasion was, to more rational mind: ill-advised at best, and utterly ruinous at worst.

She had travelled for hours, traversing treacherous landscape by hired hoof then her own foot beneath a most tempestuous storm. Her parasol, that delicate accoutrement so essential to a lady's outdoor attire, had long since been torn from her grasp by the merciless winds. Wherever it decided to flee, it fled with greatest haste and grace as it billowed frantically. But in its stead, she was compelled to employ a coat she had fortuitously packed as a makeshift cloak, shielding both her person and her valise from the relentless onslaught of the elements.

Consequently, upon her arrival at the Vonharker Manor, she presented a most bedraggled spectacle. Her attire, once the epitome of refinement, now hung wind-licked and storm-slopped, darkening their meticulously polished floors with each puddle-forming step she took. Yet, despite their reputation for harsh dealings, the staff had shown a modicum of grace (in the parts where it mattered, anyway. And she did not deem it ‘matter’ enough that they did not smile nor offer conversation), sharing with her a warm cup of tea before ushering her to her desired appointment.

“Good evening, Vonharker, Sir,” she intoned, bowing her head briefly in a gesture of forced deference. Her gaze, however, could not help but drift from the gentleman's paper-littered desk to survey the chaotic scene before her. The state of disarray was positively shocking. She found herself utterly incapable of comprehending how one could function, particularly in a position of such importance, amidst such disorder.

Even the air was stifling; thick, swampy smoke clogged the airways, casting a grey pall over the entire room and obscuring one's vision most dreadfully. Disorganised piles of documents clothed every surface, each stack a veritable tower of Babel threatening to topple at any moment, their contents ready to be misunderstood, lost, or misplaced at the slightest provocation. Even the illumination was offensively inadequate, the dim light casting long shadows that seemed to mock the very notion of clarity—as if the lightbulb itself was refusing to achieve its base purpose.

The gentleman seated behind the desk deigned to raise his gaze towards her, instead proffering a languid gesture of his hand. “Just Silco,” he uttered with an air of indifference.

Selene, with admirable patience, tarried a moment longer, anticipating that he might decide to bestow her the courtesy of his attention, thus allowing her to present herself in the manner she deemed most fitting. However, as the seconds ticked by with agonising slowness upon the mantle clock, the gentleman remained steadfastly engrossed in his correspondence and papers, as though expecting her to simply state her business without the benefit of proper introduction.

This flagrant disregard for niceties rather vexed her, and a slight furrow appeared upon her brow, betraying her indignation at such impropriety. How, she pondered, could a man of such repute and standing in society ascend to such heights when he appeared wholly ignorant of the most basic tenets of polite discourse? It was as though she were naught but a wisp of smoke, utterly beneath his notice.

“It is most discourteous to deny one's guest the common civility of the merest degree of attentiveness,” Selene observed, tone didactic and almost patronising, for which she did not hold back on and deemed necessary in this case. “Sir,”

This utterance appeared to draw his eyes towards her—or rather, one eye, for the other was concealed beneath a sable patch connected to thin leather around his head. The free eye was frigid blue, penetrating the tobacco haze, and showing inscrutable sentiment to which Selene found herself quite at a loss to respond. “Might I be so bold as to remind you, Madam, that it was your good self who so vehemently… banged on the office doors demanding upon an audience with my person, when you had provided neither intimation of your impending arrival nor expressed any prior desire for such a meeting,” he gestured with a flourish towards the documents strewn before him. “And thus, most unexpectedly, I find myself obliged to attend to two matters simultaneously,”

Selene's features momentarily betrayed her astonishment (whether it was his remarkably forthright manner of discourse, especially at a lady, or the smoke-clothed timbre of his voice that so gently lilted in the air—she knew not which, for both were equally unanticipated), her lips parting in a most unbecoming manner as the veracity of his statement dawned on her. However, she swiftly regained her composure, assuming once more the mien of a proper lady, and offered a slight inclination of her head in acknowledgment. “But is it sufficient justification for a want of common courtesies?” she maintained her resolve, observing as he tilted his head ever so slightly, his countenance remaining stone impassive. It was at this juncture that her gaze alighted upon a most grievous disfigurement beneath the his eye patch—a scar that marred one side of his face, as though some feral beast had struck him with its talons, leaving a wound that time neglected to mend.

Once more, and so curiously, she thought, he gave another tilt of the head, the blue eye traversing the contours of her face in such intense study that bordered upon unseemly. “So you have come with the express purpose of delivering a lecture on my want of propriety?”

A satisfied hum escaped her, finding light jest in his riposte. “As well as such an endeavour appears to be at present, unfortunately not, but perhaps we may revisit it at a later date,” she flashed a small smile and shook her head, advancing towards his writing desk and assuming a seat.

Silco’s gaze followed her closely without movement, and she found herself wondering as to the nature of his thoughts at that precise moment—as was the harmony of things, she’d noted, that the less revealed was the more desired.

“I come to offer you my services,” Selene declared, steeling herself for the customary reactions she had grown accustomed to encountering: a derisive chortle, a mocking sneer, or perhaps a narrowing of the eyes that bespoke a profound disbelief in her capabilities. Such responses never failed to elicit a most disagreeable tempest within her chest. However, Silco offered naught but a single arched brow, denoting a measure of interest that she found most unexpected. How very peculiar indeed, she mused, finding herself quite at a loss to interpret his unorthodox demeanour.

“And what precisely is it that you offer?” his voice was laden with a most palpable scepticism, a ghost drifting towards Selene. His singular eye, keen as rapier, scrutinised her with an intensity that might have caused lesser individuals to wilt.

Selene squared her shoulders. “Instruction, Sir,”

“Instruction?” Silco echoed, tone betraying intrigue.

She inclined her head in affirmation. “Indeed. It is my understanding that you wish to better the lives of the impoverished denizens of East Piltover—Zaun, I believe you have christened it?”

He gave a light nod, silently encouraging her.

“And while you have undoubtedly achieved remarkable success in numerous spheres—governance, sustenance, and the like—there appears to be a most lamentable… deficiency in the realm of education. It is precisely this void that I propose to fill. I am not merely educated; I am impassioned. I can bestow upon your… establishment a wealth of knowledge,” she pursed her lips, ‘establishment’ feeling rather inadequate, but she pressed on. “Moreover, I can instruct others in this noble pursuit, so that they, in turn, may do the same. I would posit that it is precisely this that your enterprise lacks and why it may be stalling as of late,”

Silco’s hand ascended swiftly, a wordless command that would have silenced many a valiant soul. However, Selene, steadfast in her resolve, was not to be deterred. She leaned and interlocked her gaze with his—perhaps challenging, perhaps duelling, or perhaps merely an attempt to better discern the soft crystal blue half-lidded in thought.

“I do not come before you as a supplicant seeking employment,” she persisted, though her words belied the truth of her circumstances. In point of fact, her need for gainful occupation was most pressing, as the state of her purse was a lamentable and barren sight, devoid of coin. “Rather, I present to you an opportunity of considerable merit. Your endeavour, as it pertains to this domain, is woefully, and I must confess, surprisingly insufficient,”

A flicker of something—perhaps indignation, or respect—flit across Silco’s features. “Insufficient?” he mused. “A most audacious assertion,”

Selene offered a slight shrug. “Mere astute observation,” she rejoined, punctuating her words with a decorous nod. “Sir,”

He reclined in his chair, lips pursed in a manner that bespoke contemplation upon her proposition .

Selene observed in silence, her hands delicately interlaced in anticipation, gaze floating the expanse of his writing desk. Her attention was suddenly arrested by an ashtray, upon which she discerned the faintest hint of pink pigment adorning one side, as though it had been deliberately turned away from prying eyes. A child, perhaps? Her gaze returned to the gentleman as he sank deeper into his ruminations.

In truth, he bore not the slightest resemblance to a paternal figure—no warmth, no welcoming demeanour that might indicate even a passing acquaintance with such sentiments. One could only surmise that either he maintained a most rigorous separation between the spheres of his existence, or that the child in question was suffering a most deplorable neglect.

“You may take your leave," Silco pronounced with a dismissive wave of his hand as he returned his attention to the documents before him.

Brows rose in astonishment. “I beg your pardon?”

He cast a fleeting glance in her direction, hand once more finding purchase upon his quill, poised in the midst of committing thoughts to parchment. “I reiterate, you may take your leave. It is not my desire to subject you to the tedium of awaiting in this silence,”

Selene regarded him with a studious gaze, her face betraying a thread of uncertainty.

“I concede there is…. truth in your assertions—indeed, I’ve not allocated sufficient resources towards the pursuit of education, a matter which is undoubtedly in dire need of attention,”

She nodded, hope seeping into her posture, pushing her shoulders upwards.

“However, the question of your employment is a separate consideration upon which I must further deliberate,” he set aside his quill and interlaced his fingers. “Pray, enlighten me as to the nature of your background,” he inquired, eye briefly flicking upon her hands before returning to meet her face.

Selene could not figure what it was that was dancing in her chest at the behest of his speech, his voice—perhaps the nerves of conversing with a stranger? “I am... my father is a man of grand operation, not unlike yourself,” she pursed her lips, careful not to utter lies, though curbing the concise truth because, yes, by ‘grand operation’ she meant ‘My father is a part of the council’. “And my siblings and I have been afforded the privilege of a most comprehensive education throughout our formative years,” she swallowed, words plucked from the air with great deliberation. “I harbour profound interests in the realms of language, music, and have had the pleasure of instructing my siblings in both disciplines. I consider myself sufficiently well-versed to undertake the role of an educator, though I must… I must confess a desire to further refine my skills, should such opportunities present themselves,”

His shoulders quivered momentarily, mouth twisting as if holding back an expression. “And what—is this your grand design? Cultivate a society of authors and minstrels?”

It was evident that this image amused him, as if such an outcome were most improbable or undesirable.

“Wherefore not?” she riposted, earnest demeanour swiftly dispelling his comedy. “Is it not the hallmark of a thriving populace?”

He tilted his head, his gaze wandering in contemplation. “You fancy yourself a nation of poets, Ms. Shrike,” he delivered his words with an air of amusement, the idea ticking his lips to a strange smiling curve that denoted his disbelief or disapproval.

Selene shrugged. “Should that be our trajectory, then so shall we proceed,”

“You posit that triumphant uprisings beget poets?”

She tsked. “I contend that triumphant uprisings beget liberty,”

His attention returned to her, one eyebrow arching in curiosity. “And this liberty, in turn, engenders poetry?”

“It engenders art, that is certain,” affirming, she bobbed her head gently, mind awash with the image of a nation of authors and musicians. “One generation toils in politics so that their progeny might revel in science, so that their progeny might revel in artistic expression,”

Her words appeared to seep into the depths of his rumination, causing his attention to drift once more. She pondered which aspect of her discourse had stirred his thoughts so. “Only so slightly naive, and full-heartedly romantical. Then what transpires thereafter?”

To this, Selene found herself bereft of a ready answer. Thus, she offered a subtle shake of her head. “That… remains to be seen,"

He seemed to take this in, eye narrowing almost imperceptibly. “And your husband granted his consent for you to seek employment?”

“My h—” she faltered, composure stuttering and momentarily deserting her. She arched a brow at him, who appeared to derive a slight of satisfaction from having caught her in such an unguarded state. Had she made mention of a husband? She was quite certain she had not. The notion that Leonard should become a topic of discourse was utterly bewildering to her, and she had no intention of divulging her marital status.

Silco inclined his head towards her hand.

Selene's gaze was drawn downwards, her eyes cast upon the subtle pale and smooth line on her finger where her ring had once resided. How had he managed to discern such a minute detail? She found herself wishing he had not, for now it seemed as though he had gained some manner of advantage over her. She raised her eyes to meet his once more, striving to conceal the faintest hint of discomfiture that threatened to betray her.

“Mere astute observation,” he remarked with cool detachment, shoulders rising in the slightest of shrugs.

She found herself grasping for the composure she had maintained earlier in their discourse, squaring her shoulders as if such a gesture might undo his observation. “He and I are estranged," she declared with resolute dignity.

“Then, perhaps, your father," Silco continued, as though consulting some invisible ledger of propriety. “Has he gran—"

“No. He has not," she interjected, eyelids fluttering momentarily as she summoned every ounce of self-possession to maintain a countenance as impassive as his own. “And I should not think it a matter of consequence, at least not as it pertains to your good self,"

He tilted his head, entire being now focused upon her with a burn that had heretofore been absent—his form, his face, his singular eye all fixed upon her person. “And what leads you to such a conclusion?"

Selene offered a slight shrug of her shoulders. “That you do not hold such matters in high regard," she remarked, nudging her head towards the door through which she had entered. “While I acknowledge that such considerations are customary in polite society, I doubt that you subscribe to these… particular notions,"

“And what notions do you believe me to disregard? In exact?" he inquired, rising from his seat behind the escritoire, his palms resting upon its surface as he gazed downward with an air of keen interest.

Selene observed as the gentleman made his languid progression around, his movements as fluid as the wisps of smoke that permeated the chamber. “I do not believe that you harbour any particular concern as to whether a woman’s husband or father has granted their permission for employment,”

“Hm—indeed?” he had now fully circumnavigated the table to stand before her, one hip inclined in a manner that might be deemed informal in more genteel company.

Selene found herself compelled to raise her gaze, silently pondering the necessity of his current position. Was it not sufficient to regard her with disdain from across the expanse of his desk? “I surmise that you are a gentleman of... fervent aspirations. ‘Zaun’ is merely one proof. That you may be one who would not hesitate to employ whatever means necessary to achieve his ends. And to seek permission would be, perhaps, incongruous with such a disposition. Am I correct in this assessment?”

A cock of his head. “Am I thus?”

“Incongruous,” one shoulder nudged up. “With such a disposition,”

He appeared to linger upon her inquiry, his singular eye seeming to bore into her very being, as though he were at that very moment arriving at some momentous decision. What intricate machinations were at work within his mind? What unspoken questions did he harbour that she found herself unable to discern through mere gaze? What further revelations might yet be forthcoming?

Selene's thoughts turned to the ashtray and its curious adornment of pink pigment.

“And I must say," she continued. “That were I to be blessed with a daughter of my own, I should desire nothing less than to bestow upon her the entirety of the world,” she observed him with keen interest as he, in turn, observed her, her mind awhirl with speculation as to whether her words had inadvertently struck upon some particular chord of significance within him. “To grant her the liberty to pursue her heart's truest inclinations—science, art, or otherwise—to traverse life unencumbered by..." a sardonic laugh escaped her, unbidden, as the faces of Leonard and her father materialised in her mind. “Men, and whatever other doors the world deems fit to be opened solely by their hands," her eyes draped down and up his figure as if in slight accusation and jest.

She rose from her seat, positioning herself just shy of his direct line of sight. Yet, she stood close enough to issue a silent challenge to that studious look in his uncovered eye. From this vantage, she could truly discern the pale azure of his gaze, exerting considerable effort to avoid casting her eyes upon the other side of his face.

“And I scarcely think," her voice had diminished to a near whisper, seemingly against her own volition. “That strict adherence to social proprieties is how you hope to win this revolution," Especially against my father.

“Am I to understand that you shall refrain from… chastising me for my apparent lack of social graces?"

A delicate smile played upon the corners of Selene's lips. “We shall see," she replied, attaching a touch of coyness.

He appeared to contemplate her words, his singular eye darting betwixt her left and right, as though perusing some invisible text she held aloft. In truth, Selene's knowledge of this enigmatic figure was limited to the scant reports in the broadsheets and the vitriolic mutterings of her father. The damned snake, corrupt hands, dirty rat, eye of Zaun, he would oft proclaim in fits of indignation.

It was rumoured that Silco held considerable sway over the Eastern district of Piltover, effectively bisecting the state—a feat most impressive, Selene mused, for he appeared to reign supreme in comparison to the seven councillors governing the Western realm. She had, on numerous occasions, lingered within earshot during her father's assemblies, acutely aware of the thick unease that permeated the council chambers, particularly her father's, regarding this man's iron grip on that portion of the nation.

It made her wonder just how much she could prod until an outburst—employment under Silco himself being a fine needle against the pane of glass, testing resilience, and peering near to the precise moment it might finally yield to the pressure and shatter.

The man’s slightest shift caught her attention and she looked up. He had extended his hand towards her in a gesture of formal introduction.

“I believe we must make our acquaintance if we are to engage in business together,” he pronounced.

Blinking in momentary surprise, Selene raised her own hand to meet his, allowing him to execute a brief handshake. “Selene Shrike,”

“Silco Vonharker,” he acknowledged her with a curt nod before relinquishing her hand and taking a step backwards. As he made his way towards the chamber doors, he spoke once more. “I shall see to the arrangement of your accommodations. Would it be agreeable to you to convene later this evening? I will hear your ideas in full and tomorrow meet with the board of barons,”

Selene felt her breath catch in her throat, the opportunity having been granted with such unexpected ease that she found herself nearly pierced with tears. While it had not been without its share of persuasion, it had proven far less arduous than many of her past endeavours. She offered Silco a gracious nod and moved towards the door, pausing at the threshold to address him once more. “Sir,"

He returned the gesture with equal brevity. “Madam," he replied.

With that, Miss Selene took her leave, finding herself once more in the presence of the same woman who had proffered her a cup of tea upon her initial arrival.

Selene endeavoured, with all the fortitude she could muster, to reconcile herself to the altered state of her circumstances. No longer would she find herself ensconced in the luxurious trappings of her former life—exquisite raiment, sumptuous furnishings, and ever-present retinue of servants anticipating her every whim. Though she was well aware that such a life of self-reliance was, indeed, the lot of the majority, it remained foreign to her genteel upbringing.

The privileged existence hitherto afforded to her had (she ruefully acknowledged) shielded her from the exertions common to those of lesser means. Effort. This realisation elicited within her a twinge of remorse, fearing this might be construed as a mark of inadequacy or incompetence—qualities against which she had ever striven to guard herself, in all aspects of her life.

Thus, with a resolute heart, she welcomed the moderate appointments of her new abode: one bed in a room of five. While she could not, in all honesty, describe her lodgings as wholly neglectful��for they did, after all, boast four walls, a ceiling, and modest sheets—neither could she deny that they paled in comparison to the spacious apartments to which she had resided in for three and twenty years.

The woman who had ministered to her needs with an offered cup of tea—Sevika by name, Silco's right-hand, as Selene had come to learn—became an object of intense fascination to the young lady. This curious individual eschewed the traditional attire of her sex, adorning herself instead in a manner more befitting a man of service: trousers, flat boots, and form unencumbered by the constraints of a corset. Even more striking was the maroon fabric draped across her bosom, lending her an air of masculine practicality.

She would avert her eyes from Selene's inquisitive gaze that lingered overlong upon the unconventional appearance—her shorn hair pulled severely away from her face, the perpetual furrow of her brow, and most notably, the pair of remarkably captivating pale eyes. And, to Selene’s dismay, no friendship budded between as Sevika walked her to the opposite wing of the estate.

Vonharker Manor, in all its grandeur, could scarcely be described as quaint. To Selene's discerning eye, the estate appeared to be neatly bisected: the western wing devoted to the accommodation of staff and the provision of entertainment chambers, while the eastern wing was reserved for matters of business, the nature of which remained a mystery to her. Beyond the stately edifice stretched a verdant expanse of cultivated land, its monotony interrupted by dots  of crimson, amber, and golden hues—fruits and vegetation, though too distant for her to ascertain their precise nature.

In her room, she had set about the task of drying those garments which had fallen victim to the storm. She attired herself in whatever dry vestments were at her disposal, making do with the limited space afforded her.

It became apparent that she was to share quarters with four other individuals, their berths in various states of disarray, yet still bearing a lived-in comfort that she found oddly reassuring.

As the evening drew nigh, and the last vestiges of daylight faded from the windowpane, she sought solace upon her own bed. With quill in hand she found herself in the most peculiar of predicaments.

She diligently inscribed within the pages of a work of fiction (the only paper she had thought to bring) the salient points she intended to raise during the impending assembly. As she scribbled betwixt lines of flowery prose and passionate declarations, she mused that should her notes be discovered, future readers might believe she had penned the most nonsensical romance novel in all of Piltover—one in which the dashing hero inexplicably expounded upon the merits of educational reform and the intricacies of educational curriculums.

The clanging of a bell from the yard withdrew Selene's attention, and she found herself peering through the window to observe the day's conclusion. A procession of weary souls, shoulders bent with the weight of honest toil, made their way towards the manor house as lamps within were kindled against the encroaching darkness.

She remained diligently hunched over her tome and writing implement, quill scratching across the page with a fervour born of urgency and inspiration. But her solitude was interrupted by a sharp rapping upon the chamber door. Upon glancing back, she beheld Sevika's figure standing beneath the door frame, posture rigid and unyielding.

Understanding, Selene, with graceful haste, gathered her book and followed Sevika's retreating form into the warmly lit corridor beyond.

“I am Selene, if you please," the young lady offered her hand towards the stoic woman, though her gesture of civility remained unreciprocated. “It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance,”

The taciturn Sevika deigned only to offer a curt nod of acknowledgement, resolute in her silence. Selene, ever the model of decorum, returned the nod with gracious understanding.

The elder of the pair, Sevika, led the way eastward through the grand corridors of Vonharker Manor. The silence that might have reigned between them was mercifully dispelled by the distant strains of lively conversation and melodious tunes, their origin a mystery to the newly arrived lady. She found herself quite intrigued by these sounds of gaiety, so at odds with the sombre demeanour of her guide.

Upon reaching their destination, Sevika, with a practised efficiency that spoke of long years in service, drew open a heavy chamber door. The oak yielded without creak. And a gesture as economical as it was unambiguous, she bade the other girl enter.

Selene crossed the threshold, skirts rustling softly with each step.

She found herself quite overcome by the grandeur of the chamber that lay before her. It was, without doubt, a study of the most magnificent order, a sanctuary of learning and refinement that would not have been out of place in the finest homes of West Piltover. Indeed, she mused, it rather put her father's modest library to shame

One entire wall of this chamber was adorned from floor to ceiling with a tapestry of leather-bound books, a sight that nearly caused her to almost swoon. The shelves, crafted from the seeming finest mahogany and polished to a lustrous sheen, did not even bend beneath the weight of countless volumes, the gilt-edged spines glinting in the warm light like so many jewels. Selene could not help but marvel at the breadth contained within these hallowed walls, fingers fairly itching to caress their spines.

At the very heart of the oasis was a grand piano, ebony surface gleaming like a dark mirror. Undoubtedly Ionian of the highest calibre, seemed to Selene as a sleeping giant, waiting only for the touch of a skilled hand to awaken its voice. She likened it to the one her father had gifted her—how much more marvellous this one felt.

Adjacent to the literary wall, a sumptuous sofa in deep burgundy leather invited repose and contemplation; then at the far end of the chamber, commanding a view of the entire room, stood a desk, standing as if in authority over the room.

The entire study was suffused with a warm, soft radiance that seemed to emanate from every surface. Lamps, flames dancing behind etched glass shades, played upon the polished wood and leather, and cast a golden glow that softened every edge and lent an air of elegance to the scene.

“Good evening, Ms. Shrike,” came the sonorous tones of Silco, his figure materialising from a doorway previously unnoticed by Selene. “What have you to present?”

The young lady inclined her head in acknowledgment, drawing nearer as she unfurled the pages of her rather unorthodox notebook. “Good evening, Sir. I have... one moment, if you please. I have devised some proposals for the implementation of educational programmes in Z—”

“What, may I inquire, is that peculiar thing?” he interjected, his piercing furrow fixed upon the tome in Selene's shuffling hands.

The lady paused, her lips parting in momentary bewilderment as she followed his line of sight. “M… oh, my notations?”

Silco's brow furrowed in puzzlement. “Whispers of Passion?” he read aloud, his voice tinged with incredulity.

A most unbecoming flush suffused Selene's face, her hand instinctively moving to conceal the offending title. “That is—no, I assure you, this was the only... that is to say, the only parchment at my disposal. However, I can attest that my notes are indeed contained within,” she lifted the pages. “See, I—mm, no,” she withdrew it as quickly, offering a sheepish smile instead as she smoothed the pages, having at last located the appropriate section pertaining to her strategies. “If we might proceed—I have formulated some comprehensive strategies for the implementation of educational programmes in Zaun,”

Silco rapped his knuckles upon the polished surface of the mahogany table, gesturing her forward with a slight inclination of his head as he lowered himself into his seat and arranged before him a mountain of parchment. “What else?”

Selene approached and gracefully took her place in the chair. Her gaze fell upon him as he commenced his scribblings with practised speed. After a moment's hesitation, she ventured to speak, her voice soft yet resolute. “If I may, regarding the matter of resource allocation, I find myself curious. Was the apparent dearth of funds directed towards educational pursuits a consequence of limited means, or perhaps a reflection of a certain... indifference towards the subject?"

Though her inquiry had been born of genuine interest and good intentions, Selene could not help but notice a shadow pass over Silco's face, his expression souring ever so slightly.

He fixed her with a look of mild displeasure, eyes drooping in an unmistakable display of vexation. “I assure you, Ms. Shrike, it is neither,” he declared, resuming his writing with renewed vigour. “We possess ample resources, and I hold education in the highest regard,” he continued, casting her a fleeting glance that spoke volumes. “I have simply found myself overwhelmed by the myriad responsibilities that demand my attention. You must understand, there are countless matters regarding—”

“Indeed,” Selene interjected, a small smile playing at the corners of her mouth. “And I have the matter of curriculum development to attend to,” her smile only broadened at Silco's look of barely concealed exasperation, brought about by her rather bold interruption.

He was not, by any measure, a disagreeable companion. She had long been accustomed to Leonard's incessant ramblings about his daily affairs, grievances concerning colleagues, or his fleeting ponderings to which he expected Selene to be attentive, whilst never once deigning to inquire about her own day—it was this as a daily occurrence which made an impression on Selene as though she existed only when he looked at her, talk to her, and that little else outside of him mattered. Now, as she found herself seated beside this man, she came to the profound realisation of how deeply she cherished silence. Save for the gentle rustle of parchment and the occasional soft exhalation, they occupied the space without encroaching upon one another's solitude.

There existed a curious liberty in his company, she felt, that caused a peculiar tightening in her chest, akin to a slight discomfort. He did not second-guess her assertions, nor did he question her intellectual faculties. When she ventured to offer an opinion, he neither dismissed it nor addressed her in a patronising manner, but rather considered each word with the gravity one might afford a fellow gentleman. His inquiries, when they arose, pertained solely to matters of logical inconsistency or strategic criticism, rather than directing any aspersions towards her person. Indeed, never once did he indicate that such a thought had even crossed his mind.

The effect of this unexpected treatment was such that Selene found herself, from time to time, casting furtive glances in his direction. Her mind, much like a boisterous child, raced with fervent activity, pondering what manner of upbringing could have possibly moulded him into such an individual. Perhaps, a mother who had instilled in him such graces? A sister? Lover?

“It is discourteous to subject one’s companion to the common incivility of an unrelenting gaze,” Silco muttered, finger sliding against the side of a page before he flicked his eyes up to Selene’s.

The lady’s eyes narrowed at her own gaze echoed back, then glanced away towards the timepiece, jaw tightening perceptibly. “And what of the common civility of serving dinner to one's guest? The hour approaches five and twenty past eleven,” she remarked, her tone betraying a hint of exasperation.

He, in no shortage of that air of indifference, turned a page of his document, casting a brief glance in her direction. “Was the supper at seven o'clock too provincial for your western sensibilities?” he inquired half-heartedly.

Selene blinked in evident confusion. She had arrived at the manor around the late hour of five. When, she pondered, had dinner been announced?

Silco, seeming to sense the perplexity in her silence, looked up from his papers and rested them upon the table, gaze meeting hers. “The bell rings routinely at fifty minutes past six—did you not take notice of it?” his brow furrowed slightly.

Realisation clapped  upon Selene at last, and her eyebrows rose in a telling manner. “Ah, I see. That was the significance,” she murmured, lightly laughing to herself at the recollection.

But the man’s countenance melted from incredulity to apparent annoyance. “And you had not thought to inform anyone of your oversight? Opting to starve?” he inquired, beckoning to a servant who had been standing dutifully by the doors.

“Was I to comprehend, in immediate effect, the intricacies of your manor's routine?” Selene responded, waving her hand dismissively. “A mere bell ringing scarcely conveys the message ‘dinner is served', I should think,” she added, her voice betraying a mixture of defensiveness and mild embarrassment at her faux pas.

Disregarding her protestations, he turned his attention to the approaching servant. “Pray, bring Ms. Shrike a plate and whatever was prepared for dinner,” he instructed, dismissing the lad with a wave of his hand. He then addressed Selene once more, “If be it left-overs, you shall not complain as this was your oversight. But I trust you partook of luncheon, I presume?”

Selene shrugged, reclining in her chair with nonchalance. “A luncheon of storm rain, indeed. I was most diligently occupied with the conquest of the road on my journey hither,” she replied, the hint of mirth overtaken by a yawn.

The gentleman shook his head, brows rising in evident disbelief as he busied himself with the arrangement of his documents. “Am I to understand that you have not taken sustenance since breakfast? And travelled for hours thereafter? Were you intending to be accompanied by Death himself on your journey?”

A most unladylike snort escaped the woman, hastily stifled by the swift application of her hand to her mouth. “If such were to be my fate, alas," she shrugged with feigned indifference. ���And no, I do not believe I... no, I last ate on the evening prior. I commenced my journey before dawn's first light. Scarcely any time before my flight and—” she paused, breath catching on a memory. “M’yeah,”

Upon casting her gaze towards Silco, Selene found herself subject to the most impassive countenance she had ever beheld, if indeed such were possible. She could sense a contemplation so intense behind his eye as it bore into her without respite, as though he were attempting to fathom the depths of her imprudence, and she wondered if this was what his documents felt beneath his hands when he was at work. She imagined herself bursting into flames, his gaze match and strike enough to accomplish such a feat.

Finally, he shook his head with a sigh and arranged his papers into orderly stacks. “Bear in mind, for future occasions, the tolling of the bells—I find myself rather partial to my employees remaining on the land of the living. I trust you are not afflicted with an inability to partake in meal-times?”

“How exceedingly considerate,” Selene remarked wryly, eyes following his face as gathered his work and rose to his feet. “Are you not staying?”

He passed her a mildly curious look, though half drenched in impassivity. “Are you also afflicted with an inability to feed yourself?”

Selene’s lips parted then closed, a half-smile threatening to grace her lips. Was that a joke?

With measured steps, he made his way towards the side door. “You may, if you wish, remain here to have your supper. I will take my work to my personal study. Tomorrow, I shall see what I can do regarding your propositions,”

Acquiescing with a graceful nod, Selene commenced the arrangement of her own papers to accommodate the forthcoming meal. “I am most grateful,”

He paused, one last time, his figure half-enshrouded in the penumbra of the adjoining chamber. He refrained from turning, his gaze averted, yet his head shifted such that Selene caught a fleeting glimpse of his profile—how shark-like it seemed, too, gliding betwixt shadow and illumination. With the slightest inclination of his head, he appeared to acknowledge her expression of gratitude. “Do not stain the carpeting,” a nod, then, “Madam,”

She nodded back. “Sir,”

Thereupon, he crossed the threshold into the adjacent chamber and sealed the door behind him, leaving Selene to her solitude.

[a-gal-with-taste]

What Is Seen (Oneshot)

Summary: The scars are not all you see, when you look at him. And in this moment of peace, warmth and closeness, you take the time to study them... and perhaps, finally, tell the Eye of Zaun what you truly see, when you see him.

Tags: Winter/Holiday Fic, cuddling, mentions of hurt/comfort, romance, some humor, established relationship, tooth-rotting fluff because I said so, sleepy kissing, Happy Holidays!

Silco X GN!Reader | 1397 Words | AO3

Too many gave too much attention to his scars, in your humble opinion. 

Admittedly, you had been the same when hired. Momentarily frozen under the sight of crackled-gray, fitted with blood red enveloped in pitch-black. 

It had struck you, haunted you long-after that first meeting, and lingered in your mind. Standing out as a permanent fixture in your thoughts, for days to come, until your next meeting. 

The meeting following after that meeting, you stopped paying attention to the scars. And, though he'd never truly admit it, you imagined that's when Silco began to pay attention to you as well. 

Love didn't come quickly, but the attraction certainly did. Magnetic forces brought together under the guise of business as he built-up his empire, and you eased-in the supplies with a finesse he quietly appreciated. 

But it wasn't your tactics and reliability that made him call you back, and likewise, it wasn't his scars that drew you in. 

Many claim his ruin-eye to be one of fire. True, but also nonsense; the green is far more in its bare intensity, often barely holding back tides of pure, raw thoughts and emotion in that seagreen gaze. 

It was that seagreen that drew you in, lost you in its depths, again and again, until you forgot the scars entirely. 

Forgot who Silco was sometimes, even. The danger of the sea didn't scare you, after your presence became something more than occasional - in fact, a part of you welcomed the drowning. 

And when at last, talks of business ceased, soon with all attempts at speaking failing as your lips found his, you indeed found the drowning delectable, addictive, and magnetic... 

You were more than happy to drown, again and again. 

Silco, though he never said it aloud, was more than pleased you were so-willing to fall to the depths with him. 

And so, you forget the scars. Quite impossible, yet so simple to cast them from your mind as time goes by, as brushes of skin and lips become more frequent, and less hidden. They simply didn't matter, and you so rarely took notice of them when his low-words and expert hands were far, far more all-encompassing. 

Which is why, in this moment of peace, you study your love - and more importantly, those scars everyone seems to fixate on. 

The fire before you both no-longer roars, but exhibits a heat that has long-since sent the Industrialist in a sleep, one that is much needed. You have no doubt your own body, and the comforter you both share, helped get him to such a relaxed state. 

Head tilting-back on the couch, jaw slackened to let soft little breaths whistle through chipped-teeth in his snores, it's a herculean task not to smooth back the ruffled dark-hairs that have fallen askew over forehead and temple. A task failing quick, as your hands begin to ghost up from its placement along the steady, rhythmic beating of his heart, and coasting further up to gently shuffle those dark locks back.

His breathing hitches, and your own stills.

When it resumes, you draw your hand away, tucking it back beneath the blacket, and against Silco’s chest with a tenderness that still, after all this time, feels unreal. It feels unreal, that you are capable of being this close to the man, and likewise, that he remains so close and so trusting to you.

It feels impossible to think a man like Silco can learn to trust again, when you give attention to the scars.

Guessing his weariness would be long lasting, the patch was placed on to hide away the toxified-eye in his rest, but it does nothing to hide the scars you trace with your eyes. Scars that define him. That changed him, fundamentally and morally, into the Eye of Zaun the Undercity knows of today. A man of ruthless and unapologetic nature, a creature of spite and maliciousness, taken human-form…

Others would flinch. 

You simply lean up to brush your lips against the blackened-grooves, the rigid flesh of his marred cheekbone.

It causes Silco’s breath to hitch, and return from the depths of snoring he had fallen into. You say nothing as he awakens with your name on his lips, only traveling your own to follow the line of his cheekbone beneath ruined skin, layering another slow kiss there, as he lets out a dry sigh.

“You realize, the nerves there are mostly dead,” Silco murmurs, in a perplexed question of sleepy affection, masked as dry sarcasm as he fights back a yawn. “I can neither feel nor sense you there, not in the correct capacity. It’s all… muted.”

“Even when I do this?” Another kiss, this one delivered closer to the hollow of his angular cheek, rather than the sharp-bone beneath. The action only earns you a hum, and the arm slung around your hip tightening.

“How about this?” Closer, edging-along the patch that hides his eye. Silco doesn’t even attempt to struggle back the deep yawn this time, but ends it with a tired sound of your name, that you know is secretly amused beneath the exhaustion.

Traveling your mouth closer to the lobe of his ear, you murmur in that honey-sweet, low pitch that you know has him shuddering. “And this-?”

Lips barely make it there, before he is turning, and capturing your lips with his own. 

You melt into him, and it’s not because of the fireplace that lays before you both. The warmth that spreads through your body, at the simple, nearly chaste kiss he offers, is not one that can be born out of such a physical-element as fire. Rather, it originates from something stronger, more heated and powerful, all encompassing, and burning in your veins, through your heart…

Enough to keep you warm, long after he pulls away to lean his forehead on yours. 

“Amusing yourself with my battle scars?” He questioned, more curious than hostile, but the green-gaze of his flickers over your face regardless. Largely from the force of habit, which you don’t blame him for.

“Not exactly,” You murmur, sliding your hand up once more, to cup the unscarred cheek. “Studying, more like.”

“Indeed?”

“Yep.”

“Care to share your findings?”

A smile dances on your lips, shadowed in the dancing of the flames, as you lean closer to murmur against his mouth once-more with hooded eyes. “They aren’t all that scary.”

“Ha.” Silco rolls the singular eye that remains. “I beg you don’t tell the populace. Or else, I may have to find a new career.”

“I could sponsor you.”

“And I would bleed-you dry,” He says in a dark-sweetness akin to bitter honey, as he nips at your bottom lip in a way that has you squeaking, biting back your own grin in an attempt to stay serious.

“I mean it. I don’t normally take notice of them… don’t normally see them, to be honest.” His brow raises, and you shrug, speaking your truth simply. “They aren’t the features I think of most, when I think of you. Not the focal point, and not what I see, when I think of you.”

“What do you see, then…?” His question grows quiet, as your hands travel up to cup at either-side of his face. Angular, sharp, and rough against one of your palms… but you hold his face with all the tenderness that comes when holding something precious, and gazing at him, as though he is indeed something precious to behold.

“What do you think, Silco?” You murmur simply, hand sliding further upward to push away the patch and returning to his cheek the moment it’s off. “What do you think I see?”

Slower, mismatched eyes flick between your own - from habit, ever-assessing, even with you. It’s not one you would fault him for, and you do not fault him now. Only smile, thumb brushing along the rough ridge of skin beneath the infamous eye, as you look at him. 

Look at the man you love. The man you’re happy to drown into, with those seagreen eyes, and happy to burn for, as you hold one-another close before the flames, and all-knowing he would do the very same...

Love. That’s what you see.

Silco never ends up answering your question.

But you think the long kiss he offers you next, as you lay together in the warmth of a crackling fire, says more than enough.

[ink-and-dagger]

Remember in Drink With Me Chapter 9 when they get hammered and Silco smiles at Astrid?

Yeah. That’s the one.

🖤

[ace-of-zaun]

Kiss Me More. Pt. 1

silco x f!reader - 4.1k words - SFW

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 kiss, practice kissing, mild angst, fluff, jealous silco, first love, falling in love, friends to lovers, soft silco my beloved, young silco

-

You can always tell if Silco is home by the level of carnage that your living room is currently exuding. 

Honestly, it’s like the boy arrives home from work, stands smack-bang in the middle of the room, and shakes off all his belongings like a dog caught in the rain. In fact, you wouldn’t be surprised if he did exactly that.

Vander, on the other hand, is at least a little bit more tidy. A little bit less chaotic. 

For example, you can tell that Vander isn’t home right now because his shoes aren’t lined up neatly next to the door (unless, of course, he’s come home barefoot which has happened before).

But, you know for a fact that Silco is home because his backpack is currently strewn across the sofa, his coat is somehow hanging off the lamp, and his shoes are leading an obvious trail through the room; one behind the other, like some abstract art of an invisible man walking. 

Oh, and also because you can hear him loudly cooking dinner in the kitchen. 

“Sil, I’m home!” you call out, toeing your shoes off and pushing them up against the wall by the front door with your feet.

“Hey! Just making us something to eat!” he shouts back.

Setting down your bag next to your shoes, you allow yourself to drop just as heavily onto the sofa, only pausing once to chuck Silco’s bag over the back of it, just so you can laugh at him when he can’t find it later.

A long day at work means you’re that kind of tired where you can’t quite tell whether it’s your muscles that are aching or your bones themselves. 

You’re completely still - head resting back, eyes glazed at the ceiling… for approximately two seconds before you realise your foot is tapping anxiously against the floor. It’s not long before your whole leg is jiggling, nervous energy building up until-

“Hey, Silco?” 

“Yeah?” he calls back, still in the kitchen. 

“How do people know how to kiss? Like how are you supposed to know what to do?” you ask, both still shouting somewhat to hear one another. 

There’s a pause. Then an incredulous-

“What?”

You’re not quite sure if Silco didn’t understand the question or whether he just didn’t hear you properly, so you ignore him until he finally pops his head around the open doorway of the kitchen to look at you.

His jet hair is mussed and a little wavy, probably from running his hand through it too much, and there’s a little streak of coal dust on his jaw. The thought of getting up and gently wiping it away for him flits through your mind but is forgotten entirely when he clears his throat, startling you back to his expectant expression. 

“I said, what do you think is the proper way to kiss someone? You know, so it feels… uh, good and stuff?”

Silco screws up his face in confusion.

“What the fuck are you talking about?” 

You huff a breath of annoyance and tiredly run a hand through your hair.

“It’s just…” you begin, trailing off as embarrassment begins to heat your cheeks. But it’s only Silco. You’ve known each other for forever, so you power through in hopes of getting the answers you want. 

“It’s just that I’ve never kissed anybody before and I don’t want to mess it up.”

You’d been asked out on your very first proper date today and out of all the things you’re nervous about, kissing is, without a doubt, at the very top of that list. 

So what if people might think you’re a late bloomer - you’ve just never gotten round to it before! You’ve been far too busy working your arse off to make sure you and the boys could keep the home you’d all worked so hard to afford, let alone keep putting food on the table.

Plus, growing up and living with two ridiculous boys of your own had put you off wanting to spend time with any more for a good number of your teenage years (seriously, do all their bedrooms smell that bad?)

But today a boy you’d met a few times in the shop you worked in had asked you out on a date.

And maybe it was because he’d looked at you in a way that no-one else ever had before (in a way that made you feel like the only girl on Runeterra), or maybe it was because you felt like it was high-time you started thinking of yourself for once, but whatever the motive, you’d said yes.

Which had promptly led you to this current dilemma: One, what if he wants to kiss me? And two, how do I kiss?

Hoping Silco had heard some tricks from some of his friends at the mine, you thought he’d at least respond with some useful advice. You’re decidedly not expecting him to gawp at you like he used to do at the fish in the Undercity’s scuffed aquarium (also known as, sneaking into the underground factories at night to see the big glass windows lining the river). 

“You’ve never kissed anyone before?” 

A jerk of your head up to stare at him… 

He has?

“Wait, you’ve already had your first kiss?” you squeak, hopelessly trying to keep the wobble out of your voice.

He’s definitely never talked about having his first kiss before. Why wouldn't he tell you something like that? (And why is thinking about all of this making you feel so uneasy?)

Silco pushes off the doorway he’s leaning on and crosses into the living room, choosing to perch on the arm of the sofa next to you. He’s still holding a spatula in his hand, which you would have normally teased him for if you weren’t so caught up having a crisis over Silco’s apparent love life. 

“Yeah, when I was like, thirteen,” he answers flippantly, as if it’s common knowledge. Old news. Last week’s gossip. 

“What?”

You’re aghast. Stranded out in an ocean with no lifeboat.

There’s this weird feeling bubbling up inside of you and for some reason your brain is hissing the word jealousjealousjealous like a wretched, little goblin, but you’re not jealous, you have no reason to be jealous. 

Gods, it’s not like you and Silco even like each other, you’re best friends, always have been, always will be. 

“With who?” you demand, crossing your arms across your chest and then promptly uncrossing them when you feel ridiculous. 

“Gods, I don’t remember, it was ages ago,” he says, pure indifference just oozing from him. 

“Wow,” you exclaim flatly, your sarcasm nearly reaching slow-clapping levels at his gross attitude. “Woooow.” 

“What? I’m supposed to remember every single kiss I’ve ever had?” he retorts with a roll of his eyes. 

You think you might have pulled a kidney. Or maybe your ribs have come loose. 

There’s been more than one kiss? Too many to remember or even bother to keep count? 

You can’t help but fall silent, staring at the ground as a sick, uneasy feeling spreads through you at a rate you can’t even hope to control. 

Oblivious as ever, Silco doesn’t even notice your internal spiral. 

“Wait, why do you want to know how to kiss? Who are you planning on kissing?” he all but demands, concern creeping into his tone.

It’s matched by the frown that paints his features when you finally drag your gaze back up to his face. 

“Seven,” you tell him before mumbling shyly, more to yourself than to him. “And I don’t know for sure if we’re gonna kiss.” 

Now it’s Silco’s turn to blanch. 

“Who?”

“You know, that boy who comes into the shop sometimes,” you huff in annoyance. 

Janna, he never listens to you.

His reaction is to grimace and you’re not entirely sure why it warrants such a visceral reaction. 

“I thought you found him annoying,” he points out (rather unhelpfully, if you do say so yourself).

Okay, technically, you had said that. At first you’d found his hovering a bit stifling, especially when you were trying to work. But now that he’d asked you out, you think he can’t be all that bad. 

“Well, yeah, at first, but he’s kinda sweet when you get to know him,” you explain, unable to hold back the little smile that crosses your lips when you think about the moment he’d gently tucked a piece of your hair behind your ear. It was probably the most romantic thing anyone’s ever done for you. 

Beside you, Silco pretends to gag loudly. He’s gross. 

You’re just about to punch his leg as hard as you can in retaliation, but the exact moment you do, he reaches up to nervously push a hand through his hair. Except, he’s forgotten that he’s still holding the spatula, so instead he comically smacks himself in the face with it. 

Silco jolts backwards briefly before looking down at the utensil in his hand and you can just see the moment he remembers the food-

“Shit!”

He scrambles off the sofa and back into the kitchen, almost slipping on one of his own shoes in the process. 

“Idiot,” you mumble under your breath when he finally disappears from your line of sight. 

You cross your arms and slump back against the sofa, half in denial of the pout you know you’re sporting. That bone tiredness has been swiftly replaced with a strange, confusing feeling that you cannot for the life of you put a name to. 

Why would Silco care about who you go on a date with? If anything, you thought he’d be happy that you’re finally putting yourself out there. You know, exploring, having fun - something that isn’t just working and sleeping and yelling at Silco when he steals your tweezers. 

The sounds from the kitchen all cease in abrupt succession, silence ringing out when he finally steps back into the living room. 

His arms hang down awkwardly by his sides and he avoids eye contact with you, choosing instead to stare at the stain on the wall by the door. 

“Burnt it,” he announces sheepishly.

“Siiiiil,” you groan dramatically, throwing your head back to look at the ceiling as your arms drop heavily down against your thighs. “We can barely afford food as it is!”

“Oh, be quiet,” he hushes with a sneer. “I’ll give it to Vander when he gets back home and I’ll make us something else in a minute.”

Vander had been doing extra shifts in a pub most evenings, just to make sure you guys stayed in the green and didn’t lose the apartment or miss any unnecessary meals. Honestly, you have no idea how he does it after working all day in the mines. 

You roll your eyes at Silco but can’t find it in yourself to be truly mad. 

Instead of starting dinner again like he said he would, Silco carefully sits next to you on the sofa. You can tell he’s staring at you but you ignore him, keeping your gaze fixed on the window, eyes unfocused enough that all the neon lights blend together in a colourful swirl. 

It’s quiet for a little bit, bar the usual noise of the apartment building and Silco noisily fiddling with a clasp on his shirt, before he abruptly says out of the blue-

“You know, if you’re worried about not knowing how to kiss, you could always practise on me.”

A beat. Then you slowly tip your head sideways to look at him.

“What?”

“Well, you know what they say, practice makes perfect,” he begins, making brief eye contact before darting away like he’s been caught. “And if you want to impress this Six guy-”

“Seven."

“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.”

If you weren’t so tired, you might have laughed at him. Or smacked him up the head. 

But you must really be exhausted because you do neither of those things, instead squinting at him as the cogs turn sluggishly in your brain.

He’s not… wrong, per se. Practising would make you feel more prepared for it if it happens on your date. 

“I mean, I guess so,” you admit to him slowly. 

You shift your body to the side and really, properly consider him for the first time, trying to imagine yourself kissing Silco. 

And just like that, your stomach erupts into butterflies and you suddenly have no idea what to do with your hands. (Funny, you didn’t feel like this earlier when you thought about kissing Seven…)

To his credit, Silco allows you to consider his offer in silence as you try to figure out what you want to do.

You can’t really argue with his logic. It would be good to know what you’re doing beforehand so you can impress Seven, or at the very least avoid embarrassing yourself.

And Silco is safe. You’ve known him practically your whole life and he’s never truly let you down yet. 

The more you think about it, the more it feels like a good idea. (And it seems to pass you by that by kissing Silco as a practice for your first kiss, Silco himself will be your first kiss…)

You shift your body to face him a bit more, smiling up at him. 

“Yeah,” you say with a croak, before clearing your throat and speaking again just a little more confidently. “Okay.”

“Yeah?” he asks, searching your expression for any sign of hesitance. 

But you’re not hesitant. A little nervous, sure, but this is new, it’s normal to be nervous. 

You throw him a big smile hoping he understands. 

"Yep!" 

Silco offers you one of the softest smiles you’ve ever seen from him and it makes your chest feel all fluttery and nice. 

Then, he slides closer to you and gently takes your cheek in his hand. 

“What, l-like, right now?” you stutter, eyes nervously darting up to meet his. 

Silco freezes and his gaze flickers between your eyes and your lips. 

“I mean, there’s no time like the present, right?” he says, waiting for your confirmation before moving any further. 

He just caught you off-guard, that’s all. It’s not everyday you kiss your best friend as practice for when you kiss your first ever boyfriend. 

“Yeah, I guess.”

You take roughly five seconds to fully prepare yourself - yes, this is actually going to happen - before shifting yourself to face him properly. 

“Okay. Ready now?” he asks, unable to hide the little smile working its way onto his lips. 

“Yep, ready,” you confirm, smiling back up at him as your heart begins to beat rapidly in your chest.

Silco leans down slowly, his hand still gently cupping your face, and your eyes close instinctively, suddenly giddy as his nose brushes your cheek.

Then, he closes the gap and presses his lips to yours.

For a second or two, you just get used to the feeling of him. How his lips are somehow dry and soft at the same time. How he tastes of peppermint gum laced faintly with cigarette smoke, even though you’ve told him repeatedly that he should stop and who the hell’s he trying to impress anyway?

You only just have the presence of mind to purse your own lips against his when he pulls back from you (and you force yourself to ignore the disappointment of that being it).

Luckily for you, that is not it. 

“Okay, not bad, now I need you to move with me,” he says, licking his lips and pushing back his hair only for it to flop back to the exact same spot.

Huh?  

“Move… with you?” you ask as if you’re in a daze. 

“Yeah, like, move your head and lips a bit more. Just follow my lead,” he explains confidently, almost indifferently. “And you can use your hands if you want.”

“What?” 

Okay, you’re baffled now. What do hands have to do with kissing?

“You could put them around my shoulders, or… or in my hair,” Silco tells you, briefly avoiding eye contact as he mumbles out the latter. 

The bashful way he says it makes you think that’s what he prefers. 

“Okay,” you nod slowly, trying to take it all in. "Move my head and lips, use my hands. Got it." 

This time you're the one to move closer to him, leaning up to place your hand along his jaw.

Silco joins you halfway, meeting your lips once more with a slow, chaste peck before he dives back in for more, this time a little bit deeper. 

He tilts his head a little and oh wow, that feels even better. 

You try to heed his advice, this time actively moving your lips against his. Silco must notice the change because he kisses you even harder, pressing forward until you sway back with the motion. 

A hand snakes around the nape of your neck, pulling you back to him and you think your heart swoops in your chest as he does. That same hand travels lightly down your spine, fingertips dancing along the back of your shirt, bringing out the most delightful shiver.

Fuck, you get it now.

Your own hands trail up from his jaw and slide smoothly into his hair, until your fingers accidentally get caught on a little knot in the strands, causing a rough little tug against his scalp.

And Silco groans, travelling from the back of his throat into your lips and it makes you jump back in surprise.

But he doesn’t let you go far, one hand darting to the back of your head to keep you close.

His lips brush against yours as you both breathe heavily, neither one of you wanting to move away. 

“Do you want to stop?” he says, voice husky and low.

A half second to catch your breath before a vehement- 

“No.”

And then he’s right back at it, kissing you even harder. Even more urgently. 

Now, his hands snake into your hair, tugging gently until you gasp at the pleasurable sensation spreading through you. 

Silco takes the opportunity to slide his tongue into your mouth and you’re immediately overwhelmed by the heat that floods your body. 

It feels like your hands have a mind of their own because without even telling them to, they’re suddenly gripping at Silco’s shoulders, then his cheeks, and then yanking the short hairs at the back of his head. 

The noise Silco makes this time can only be described as a moan, low and throaty, and just when you think you couldn’t feel any hotter, Silco grabs your waist with both hands and pulls you towards his lap. 

You straddle one of his thighs, knees pressing into the sofa, hovering slightly above him as you continue to kiss, an ache building within you every passing moment. 

Gods, what is this feeling? You swear you’ve never felt like this before, like you could keep kissing him forever. 

But you don’t because suddenly Silco’s hand moves up the back of your shirt to land on the small of your back, and the feeling of his hot skin on yours makes you squirm in his grasp, breaking your kiss once and for all.

You lean back to stare at him, jaw slack. 

Did that really all just happen? Did you really just kiss your best friend and like it so badly that you want to do it again?

You’re both breathless, chests heaving like you’ve just run a marathon. And while your jaw may be slack, Silco’s is actually slightly agape, his eyes half-lidded as he stares at you. 

Heart racing, it takes you a few seconds to realise that you have no idea what he’s thinking right now. 

You’ve never seen him look like this before and you’re a bit scared to know what that means. It’s like he’s never seen you before. 

Of course, that’s when the panic starts to set in because, what if you’ve upset him? What if you’ve ruined everything? 

Physically unable to stand the thought, you begin to clamber up from where you’re still straddling his thigh when his hands instinctively dart out to grab your waist, keeping you in place above him. 

You look down in shock and only then does he let you go, almost as quickly as he’d latched on.

Dropping down heavily onto the sofa, you make an attempt to get your breath back, but don’t quite manage to calm your racing heart as you stare at the floor, hands curled around the edge of the cushion below you. 

Usually, round about now, Silco would say something witty, or make fun of you, but instead he’s eerily silent, avoiding eye contact like it’s the plague. 

Why isn’t he saying anything? 

Fuck, you can’t take it anymore. 

“Well, uh, thanks for the lesson,” you say awkwardly, shuffling off the couch and standing up. 

You need to go for a shower or maybe scream into your pillow for a bit. But Silco stops you in your tracks, grabbing your hand before you can barely take a step. 

“I don’t think you should go on your date,” he blurts out, the first thing he’s said in nearly a whole minute. 

Your head swivels to look down at him. 

“What? Why?”

Silco dares to look at you for a scant second before his eyes dart away like he’s embarrassed. He drops your hand, clasping his hands together as if your touch burned him. 

“Uh, ‘cause I need your help putting that shelf up.” 

He nods to the piece of wood currently lying up against the wall across the room, where it’s been for the last six months. 

“And someone needs to be here in case our parcel gets delivered,” he continues. You think he might be trying to look casual, but honestly, the way he keeps running his hands through his hair makes him look more insane by the second. 

You’re so distracted by it, you forget to point out that you haven’t even told him what day you were planning to go on your date. 

“Silco,” you huff, frustrated. “Vander can help you with the shelf and Mrs Oliver can take the parcel if no-one is in.”

You’ve never seen the old lady next door leave the apartment once in your entire time living here. 

“I still think you should stay in,” Silco insists. 

“You’re being ridiculous,” you exclaim, throwing your arms in the air. “Putting up a shelf and taking in a parcel doesn’t take a whole evening!”

His whole body language shifts as he changes tack. 

“Where’s he taking you anyway?” 

“I don’t know, he said it’s a surprise.”

Silco’s response is immediate. 

“That sounds really dodgy,” he exaggerates. “Maybe I should come with you just to be safe.”  

Okay, maybe that’s what this is all about. Maybe he’s just being overprotective and trying to look out for you. You can deal with that. 

“Silco, I’ll be fine, I know how to look after myself,” you try to reassure him. 

“Yeah, but I don’t like the thought of you going somewhere I don’t know with a complete stranger. It’ll be safer if I come as a chaperone, I know how to handle things,” he tries to say wisely. It comes across a little bit smug.  

“You can’t even cook dinner without burning it to a crisp,” you point out. 

“It isn’t burnt to a crisp,” he hisses. “And that was your fault anyway for distracting me.”

Alright, that’s it. 

You put your hands on the back of the sofa and lean over him slowly, Silco mirrors the action as he leans back with you, his eyes widening as his hand clutch the sides of his trousers until his knuckles turn bone white. 

Your voice drops, low and (hopefully) threatening.

“Silco. I don’t care what you say, I’m going on my date. Alone,” you say defiantly. There’s a brief pause where you realise that statement is nonsensical, so you add, “With Seven.”

His awestruck expression melts into a scowl, but you don’t wait for his rebuttal, pushing yourself off the sofa back and straightening up, ready to walk out the room. 

“Where are you going?” Silco calls, slightly breathless for some reason.

“For a shower,” you throw over your shoulder. 

“I used up all the hot water,” he says back. 

You’re far too frustrated to think of a reply so instead you just huff and stomp out of the room, leaving him to stare after you, as you wonder what the hell just happened.

[gingernut1314]

Bit of Friendly Banter ch. 6

Summary: Everyone is hanging out at The Last Drop when unwelcomed guests show up baring bad news that only continues to spark tensions between the Undercity and Piltover.

Content: female reader, gendered terms, pre-season 1 arcane, young Vander, young Silco, young Sevkia, young reader, young Benzo, young Felicia, pre-Sheriff Grayson, baby Viktor, Nadia & Nikolai are Viktor's parents, unrequited love, fear of rejection/ruining friendship, smoking, slight Arcane season 2/League of Legends spoiler (Janna, Felicia & Connol)

Word Count: 4.1K

↞ to The Water's Cold Embrace Masterlist | Arcane Masterlist | Request Rules | Blog Navigation ↠

“You should choose that one.” You spoke from where you leaned against Silco's back, reaching over his shoulder to tap at the cards in his hand. Silco hummed around his cigarette, smoke puffing from between his thin lips as he ran his fingertips over the worn cards. 

His fingers hovered over the one you had pointed at, seeming as if he was going to choose it, but they grabbed for the card next to it, placing it gently on the table’s surface. Sevika scowled at the card, nearly biting her blunt in half. 

“If you wanted to play,” Silco started, pulling his cigarette from his mouth to offer it to you. You took it, fingertips brushing as you did and sending your nerves standing on end. “You should have done so.” 

“And lose more coin? I’m okay.” You huffed, fitting the cigarette between your lips and pulling the thick, nicotine-riddled smoke into your lungs. Silco’s lips pulled in amusement, seafoam eyes watching as Nadia’s husband, Nikolai, slowly pulled a card from the selection in his hand. 

Nikolai was as equally tall, lanky, and pale as Nadia. His eyes, a near-black brown, were framed by deep bags that made him look as if he never slept. It was something Nadia confirmed, having told you many times of her husband's unhealthy habit of staying up well past his bedtime to finish working on a sculpture for some Piltie snob. 

You turned your gaze slightly to spot his wife over by the jukebox, their equally as tall, lanky, and pale son, Viktor, on her hip. Viktor looked like a mini copy of Nikolai, with his sharp cheekbones, nose, and mane of brown hair. Nadia’s genres had stood no chance against her husbands, except for one. His eyes, which were that same bright, burnt gold color.

The six-year-old watched the jukebox's arm come to life after the choosing of a new song, those eyes watching closely as if taking down notes on how it worked.

Probably was taking mental notes, the damn smart kid. 

You were still waiting on him to build you that mini-fridge to put in the small-ass apartment Sevika and you shared. 

“We could have played a non-betting game.” Silco reached for the cigarette still between your lips. You let him grab it, the fleeting feel of his skin against your lips sending your brain buzzing more than any drink or smoke or drug could ever hope to achieve. 

“Yeah right.” Silco’s eyes turned onto you then, watching your lips as you blew the remaining smoke from your lungs. You felt your skin burn at the attention. “Like Sevika would let us.” He chuckled. 

“Oh I’m sure we could convince her…might have to bet her though.” You chuckled at how true he was. Sevika was very betting originated. If there was a gamble to be had you were sure to find her in the middle of it.

“Hey,” Sevika hissed from her place directly across from you two. “How about you two stop eye fucking and take your turn, weasel.” Your skin burned in something other than Silco’s attention. 

“You’re quite the piss poor loser.” Silco smoothly said. He leaned back in his chair, a cocky look on his face.

“The game has ended?” Nikolai asked, his confused voice sporting the same accent as his wife, both having run away from their war-torn homeland years ago.

“No.” Sevika snapped. Nikolai’s lips formed a small ‘O’, eyes turning right back to the cards in his hands, which lay at different skewed angles. “I’m not losing this time, asshole.” She bit once more at Silco who gave her an unbelieving smirk. 

“Maybe if you wish on it hard enough.” Silco shrugged. Sevika went to open her mouth again but was cut off by a low groan from the other player at the table.

“I only agreed to take Benzo's spot because you two promised me it would be a friendly game.” Felicia, dark blue-haired and stunningly beautiful, said. You watched her place her cards face down on the table, replacing them with her half-drank cocktail, which she playfully smirked behind. 

You had disliked Felicia as soon as you laid eyes on her three years ago. 

It was a dislike you knew was irrational. One that truly had no backing to it but one you held regardless. 

And it didn’t help that everyone else in your group adored her. 

She was fun and beautiful. She knew how to talk to people in a way that left them hanging off her every word. She worked in the mines with Vander, Silco, and Benzo, so she understood the struggle of that life and had instantly been as taken with the idea of Zaun as you all had been. 

And, worst of all, she was a flirt. 

A huge flirt. 

“She’d flirt with the damn wind if it rustled a bit of paper in her direction.” Sevika had chuckled to you once. 

Yeah, Felicia would definitely flirt with Janna if the Winds showed her face around her and it was just another thing that pissed you off. 

Felicia flirted with Sevika. With Benzo, Vander, and even Nadia and Nikolai, the couple growing all flustered and blushy each time. 

She flirted with Silco too. 

And Silco flirted back. 

It was expected. Silco was just as much a flirt as Felicia. Maybe she liked the game just as much as Silco. Maybe that’s why they got along so well.

Whatever it was you hated it. 

“It’s just a bit of friendly banter.” Silco matched her playful smirk. Felicia pulled forward, getting close to Silco but not close enough to peek at his cards. You watched her hold her free hand out and wiggle her fingers in his direction. Silco handed her the cigarette without any hesitation. 

You watched their fingers brush. 

Watched their fingers linger.

“You promise?” She asked, bringing the cigarette to her lips. 

“Pinky promise.” She laughed at Silco, smoke puffing from her lungs. 

“Oh yeah?” Silco reached his hand back out, raising his pinky for her to take. You saw her muscles move as she started to reach back for Silco and that’s when you shoved off Silco’s back. Silco grunted as his ribs hit the edge of the table a little harder than you had intended. 

“The hel--What was that for?” Silco gruffed at you. Though you had been “cured” of your struggle to understand other’s emotions, you still struggled with understanding and controlling your own. 

Mainly, you struggled to not show every little thing you felt on your face. 

And right now you were pissed.

“What’s the matter with you?” Silco watched you narrowly, definitely taking notice of your change in mood.

“Nothing.” You practically grit out. “Getting a drink.” Sevika was chuckling at your outburst. Chuckles that grew into a bellow when you snatched Silco’s box of cigarettes, pulled a fresh one out, and stormed off.

You weaved around tables full of laughing patrons of The Last Drop, making it to the bar where a few people lent, waiting for their drink. 

Benzo was behind the bar tonight, helping Vander mix drinks up, which he was doing for a trio of men you now stood beside. One of which had decided to lean in closer to you. 

“Can I buy ya--” 

“No.” You hardly let him finish his sentence, not in the mood to deal with it.

“Oh come on. We can take a shot--” You snapped to bore your smoldering gaze into him. 

“I’ll give you to the count of three before I break your nose.” The man narrowed his gaze down on you, not getting the hint that you really would. 

Benzo handed the men their drinks, ushering them away before you could release your brewing anger upon him. 

“Uh oh. Somethin’ awoke the slumberin’ sea beast.” Benzo spoke, a smirk on his lips.

“Just get me a drink, Benzo.” You huffed, turning your pissed-off gaze onto him. 

“Didn’t we jus’ see the beast a week ago?” He asked, still finding your mood all too amusing. “Silco again?” You reached behind the bar to snag the box of matches you knew Vander kept there.

They did see the “beast” as Benzo called your anger. Last week when Silco had been flirting with a girl in this very bar. Flirting with some random person when it had meant to be a night you two hung out together. 

You’d just let your anger about that go three days ago. 

“Not everything is about Silco, asshole.” You bit, shoving the cigarette between your lips and flicking the match against the ridged side of the box, letting the fire bring the butt of the cigarette to a smolder. You inhaled deeply, willing the heavy smoke to cloud your mind and help you forget about the person Benzo knew you were pissed at. 

“Want’d he do this time?” Benzo pushed. 

“I’m gonna slap that damn smirk off your face if don’t shut the hell up.” You hissed loud enough it caught Vander’s attention. Benzo had just opened his mouth to continue when he came over, clapping Benzo on the shoulder. 

“How ‘bout you go take care of those two down there for me, yeah?” He instructed with a too-kind smile.

“Careful, Vander. This one's got teeth tonight.” He laughed before going to do as Vander asked. Vander watched him go before turning to look at you, a knowing gleam in his eyes. 

“Ya got teeth tonight?” You took another deep drag, fixing Vander with your burning gaze. 

“Razor sharp.” You spoke on an exhale of smoke. 

“Ah, I see.” He mused, beginning to scoop ice into a shaker. You two stood in silence for a long moment as you watched Vander work. You could tell he was making something sweet but held a hidden bite within it. A perfect drink, in your opinion. 

The muscles in Vander’s arms flexed the slightest bit as he shook the liquids together before straining it into a cup. He placed a little decorative flower on top before presenting it to you. You gratefully took the glass from him, exhaling yet another drag of smoke before taking a sip. 

Just how you liked it. Sweet but strong. 

“So what’s got you baring your fangs tonight, sweetheart?” He asked, lending his hands on the bar before him. You swallowed sharply. 

“Nothing. I just needed a drink.” Vander gave a known nod, thumb tapping lightly against the wooden bartop. His eyes turned from you to look towards the table full of his friends who had resumed their game. 

“Those two are just having a laugh.” You knew you were being foolish. Being unfairly angry at him, but you truly did not need to be reminded.

“I know.” You bit. Vander gave another small nod. 

“Why haven’t you talked with him yet?” You snapped your eyes up at Vander. He suggested you talk to Silco many times before about how you feel. Suggested it last week too. And every time you gave him a simple, bullshitted answer as to why you wouldn’t.

“Busy.” Vander leveled you with a look that almost made you squirm. 

“Life’s busy. How it goes. Doesn’t mean you can keep using it as an excuse.” 

“I don’t want to talk to him.” 

“Well, then, don’t” He pushed off the bar top, taking his matches with him. “Can I let you in on a little bit of a secret though?” You watched him carefully as he grabbed for his metal pipe. “Felicia’s set her sights on a new guy we work with. Connol. She’s never quite enjoyed someone as much as I’ve seen her enjoy that one. Silco’s never been that to her in the slightest.”  

“Doesn’t mean she hasn’t been that for him.” You murmured before you could stop yourself. Vander gave you a small smile, lighting his pipe and taking a pull from it. 

“Like I said, sweetheart. It’s just for a laugh.” You opened your mouth to say something more, but the doors to The Last Drop Swung open and all noise ceased. 

You spun around, finding a large group of enforcers marching in, armor gleaming and masks looking devilish in the dim light. 

People around the bar stood, readying for a fight if needed. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Sevika grab hold of Nikolai, keeping him from rushing across the bar towards Nadia, who holding onto Viktor tightly. They both watched each other, fear and panic clear in their eyes for the other. 

Vander had just begun rounding the bar when someone pressed their side against your own. You knew instantly who it was, not needing to look up to find Silco standing there. 

“How can I help you?” Vander asked, breaking the silence that had washed over his bar. The leading enforcer grabbed for their mask, pulling it off to reveal Sergent Grayson, who steadied Vander with a near-pitying gaze.

“Forgive me for the intrusion.” She began, voice smooth yet carried a rasp to it. “Do you own this establishment?” Vander gave her a nod, bringing his pipe to his lips. Grayson held her hand out, another, still masked, enforcer rushed forward to place a roll of paper in her gloved hand. “The council has made a few changes you should be aware of.” A murmur rose among the crowd as she passed the paper to Vander. 

He took it, fire sparking in his eyes. A deep fire he very rarely let show as such. 

Vander was the peacekeeper. The one who kept relationships within your group of friends stable. The one you would turn to if you needed advice or someone who would listen. The one who stopped the group and even others outside of it from blindly attacking when there was other ways to solve a problem. 

But that didn’t mean he wasn’t just as angry as you all were. Just as bloodthirsty for the rights you all deserved. 

He was the true slumbering beast. 

A wolf kept chained back until nothing and no one could stop it from bursting to life. 

You’d only ever seen the wolf twice. Once when they announced the mines reopening, and the second time when his father had been killed by an enforcer. 

And you saw that wolf again, pacing restlessly back and further looking for the right moment to strike.

“They’re still hungry for more, huh?” Vander mused, breaking the seal on the paper and unrolling it. 

“I have just come as a messenger. Please read it over. The changes will be enacted within the week.” She gave him one last, pitying smile before pulling her mask back into her face. 

As the enforcers left, people hissed and cursed them. Spit on them. 

Grayson seemed to feel the tension growing between her enforcers and the people within the bar and hung back, watching her officers and snapping at them if they got too close to an Undercitian as they left. 

As soon as the last of her enforcers left, she followed after, letting the door swing shut behind her and washing the bar in deathly silence once more. 

Dread. 

Hopelessness. 

Anger. 

Those were the things that hung heavy in the air as everyone watched Vander read over the paper, the edges getting crushed between his fingers the longer he did. 

Nikolai was the first to move, all but sprinting over to Nadia who held fearful tears in her eyes and was edger to be wrapped up in her husband's arms. 

Silco was the second to move, rushing to his brother’s side to peer at the paper he’d been given. His bared teeth were telling enough of what bullshit was written there. 

The next to move was Felicia, who made her way over to the jukebox. She pressed a few buttons before it whirled to life, an upbeat song beginning to play which she let carry her back through the crowd of patrons. 

“You heard her. We don’t need to worry about it just this moment.” She smiled brightly their way, trying to further distract them. 

“Fuck that. How dare they come in here and--” It was the guy who had tried to hit on you earlier, but Felicia grabbed hold of his hand and pulled him sharply away from his chair. 

“Ah, ah, ah. Come on. Vander will let us know what's up later.” She began to sway with the music again, pulling the guy closer and closer. “I wanna dance. And I wanna dance with you, handsome.” She purred up at him. The guy opened and closed his mouth like a fish, glancing back to his friends who had seemed to forget about the events that had just happened and were beginning to grin like goofy kids. 

And just like that, the room filled with voices and the clicking of glasses once more as if snapped from a daze. 

Vander too, seemed to be snapped back from the unfair reality thrust into his hands. A reality he shoved into his back pocket to be forgotten for now. 

And once more you found you couldn’t stand Felicia. 

You were grateful for her, yes. Happy she had been able to lift everyone's spirits but you wished you could do that. Wished you had the same playful way with people she so effortlessly showcased and used to her advantage. 

When she found you watching, she flashed you a charming smile and a playful wink. A smile that could never possibly hope to fully hide the same angry look in her eyes. The same anger you and everyone else felt every day--felt even more now. You gave her a steady nod back before she twirled away. 

Seaform eyes were the next to find your gaze. Eyes that rushed towards you in seconds. 

Silco grabbed hold of your hand and led you through The Last Drop. Past Nadia and her family, who Vander had found and was now speaking lively to Viktor, who shyly peeked up at him. Past Benzo who was heading back behind the bar and a few people who followed, edger for a drink. 

He dragged you up step after step into the upper levels of the place he called home. You passed a door that led to Vander’s office, a place you once made home within when Silco found out you had been living in a cave, though now that you had moved out, Vander had moved in. You passed by Silco and Benzo’s shared room and past the broom closest before making it to the ladder at the end of the hall. 

Silco let go of your hand only so he could climb, throwing the hatch open and disappearing up onto the roof. You quickly followed, finding him standing there waiting for you. As soon as you were securely up, he shut the hatch and rushed towards the roof edge to look over the streets below. 

You came up to his side, brushing your shoulder against his as you quickly spotted the horde of enforcers marching through the night.

“They are closing the distillery,” He spoke after watching the enforcers enter a diner that was open 24/7. One of you and Silco’s favorite spots to hit up after a long night of drinking. You pressed closer to him as your dread grew. “And the brew house. Deemed them “not up to code”.” 

“Fuck.” You hissed, “Mean’s we’re only gonna be able to get our drink from Piltover.” Silco nodded, eyes finding yours once more. 

“And you know how they love their taxes.” He said in utter disgust. “We can’t take this lying down. It may just be alcohol but what is stopping them from deeming our docks “not up to code”? Our water sources? We won’t survive it.” 

You thought of Felicia then. Of how she had so quickly swooped in and calmed everyone's rage for the night. Because what could they do then? Nothing. 

They needed a plan. Something solid that might possibly stand a chance against Piltover.

“We need to take action and we need to do it--” You cut Silco off with a simple grab of his hands and a soft smile. 

“Let's have a smoke, okay?” He started saying your name but you pressed a finger to your lips, shushing him. “I agree…but we’ll discuss it all tomorrow. We won’t take it lying down. We’ll fight,” Silco’s lips thinned as he listened to you, hands holding yours tighter. “But it's a nice night out. I want to smoke with you.” He watched you for a long moment, looking like he might try to keep talking of action but he gave you a nod. 

“Please.” He breathed. You guided him to sit down on the ledge, one leg dangling off either side. You watched him pull his box of cigarettes and lighter out from his pocket, a cigarette extended towards you as he placed one between his lips. 

His gaze never once left yours as he lit both cigarettes, the light dancing within his eyes in a physical showing of his burning desire for freedom. A desire you felt too--ached more for when you were around him.

You two sat in easy silence for a while, watching each other and only looking away when the enforcers came marching back out of the 24/7 diner. You watched them disappear into the night before Silco’s foot tapping your own caught your attention once more. 

“Why were you so pissed early?” He asked on an exhale of smoke. You did the opposite, filling your lungs with the heavy, warm smoke so you could prolong an answer. 

“Wasn’t.” Silco gave you a look that told you he didn’t believe you one bit. You shrugged. “Really.” 

“Really?” He repeated. You nodded on a popping yep. “Well, I really find that hard to believe. I could see your blood boiling.” 

“My blood was very much at a normal boil.” You pulled in more fogging smoke. 

“I think that’s something you should have checked out. Your boiling blood.” You kicked his foot only for him to quickly kick it back. “Just tell me. Was it something I did?” 

“Just talk to him. Tell him what you're feeling.” Vander’s past words rang through your mind. 

Tell him your feelings. 

It couldn’t be that hard. You certainly weren’t busy right now. It would be a perfect time to do it. 

But the longer you looked over his face, the longer you thought about how he never looked at you how he looked at other girls, had you pushing those thoughts way down. 

“Sevkia pissed me off.” You lied. Well, it was partially true. You hated how she always found ways to try to embarrass and upset you when she herself was pissed off during a game.

So you went that route. 

Silco watched you for a moment, all-seeing eyes all but digging into the depth of your soul to figure out if that was the true reason. 

You willed yourself to believe it. To make him believe you believed it. 

“About what she said about us?” You nodded, taking another drag. 

“It was stupid. She says stupid shit all the time, need to not get so worked up over it.” Silco took another drag himself, something heaving growing in his eyes. A heaviness you couldn’t quite figure out. 

“You’re right. She’s awfully stupid.” He joked. You kicked his foot again and he kicked you right back. “Why do I feel like that’s not really why you were upset? You shoved me remember? Not Sevkia.” You gave an overly loud groan. 

“What is this? If I wanted to get interrogated, I’d go find those bucket heads.” Silco shook his head at your dramatics. 

“I’m not interrogating you.” He huffed, giving your foot another swift kick which you, just as swiftly, dealt back. “You just…used to talk more freely with me. Told me exactly why and how I had pissed you off.” His voice came out a bit softer then. A softness that pulled at your heart in a way you hadn’t expected it to. 

You missed that too…but you couldn’t go around telling him you were--were jealous of the people he flirted with. Whether that be play or real flirting. It would ruin everything between you two. 

You two were friends. 

Strictly.

And you had to keep it that way. Because not only would it throw a wrench in your friendship, but you would only become another conquest in his game. 

You didn’t want to just be another girl as stupid and cliche as you felt thinking it. You wanted him to want you fully, just as you wanted him. 

“Didn’t give a shit about my shitty social skills back then. No one was safe.” Silco chuckled at this, a look in his eyes like he was remembering back to the beginning days of your friendship. 

“You still have pretty shitty social skills.” You gave a gasp, kicking his foot a little harder at that. He kicked you just as hard back.

Previous | Next

[local-crying-boy]

HEY ITS YOU KNOW WHO!! Please can you write a fic for young Silco and reader who are pining desperately for each other but despite how obvious it is to everyone else (especially Vander and Felicia who have to put up with their lovesick shenanigans) they are still oblivious to the others feelings??? Please also have a fluffy conclusion where they confess I beg THANK YEWWW

🅂🄸🄻🄲🄾

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

𝕆𝕙, 𝕞𝕪 𝕝𝕠𝕧𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕙𝕖𝕒𝕣𝕥

𝙿𝚊𝚒𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐: 𝙿𝚊𝚜𝚝!𝚂𝚒𝚕𝚌𝚘 𝚇 𝙵𝚎𝚖!𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛

𝙶𝚎𝚗𝚛𝚎: 𝙾𝚗𝚎-𝚜𝚑𝚘𝚝, 𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚏𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚏𝚒𝚌, 𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚍 𝚘𝚏 𝚊𝚗𝚐𝚜𝚝𝚢

𝚆𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜: 𝚂𝙿𝙾𝙻𝙸𝙴𝚁𝚂 𝙵𝙾𝚁 𝙰𝚁𝙲𝙰𝙽𝙴 𝚂𝙴𝙰𝚂𝙾𝙽 2 𝙰𝙲𝚃 2, 𝚜𝚒𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝚂𝚒𝚕𝚌𝚘 𝚋𝚎𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚓𝚎𝚊𝚕𝚘𝚞𝚜 𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚅𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛 𝚊𝚗𝚍 <<𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛'𝚜>> 𝚛𝚎𝚕𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜𝚑𝚒𝚙, 𝚊𝚗𝚐𝚜𝚝𝚢 ( 𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚍 𝚘𝚏 ? )

𝚂𝚞𝚖𝚖𝚊𝚛𝚢: 𝙵𝚎𝚕𝚒𝚌𝚒𝚊 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚅𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚋𝚘𝚝𝚑 𝚏𝚎𝚍 𝚞𝚙 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚝𝚑𝚎 *𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚜𝚘* 𝚜𝚞𝚋𝚝𝚕𝚎 𝚙𝚒𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚂𝚒𝚕𝚌𝚘 𝚊𝚗𝚍 <<𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛>> 𝚌𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚕𝚢 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚝𝚘𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚍𝚜 𝚎𝚊𝚌𝚑 𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛, 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚗𝚘𝚗-𝚜𝚝𝚘𝚙 𝚛𝚊𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊𝚋𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚎𝚊𝚌𝚑 𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚋𝚎𝚐𝚒𝚗𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚘 𝚜𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚍 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚊 𝚋𝚛𝚘𝚔𝚎𝚗 𝚛𝚎𝚌𝚘𝚛𝚍. 𝚅𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝙵𝚎𝚕𝚒𝚌𝚒𝚊 𝚍𝚎𝚌𝚒𝚍𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚊 𝚕𝚒𝚝𝚝𝚕𝚎 𝚖𝚎𝚍𝚍𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚒𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚘𝚗𝚕𝚢 𝚠𝚊𝚢 𝚝𝚘 𝚜𝚘𝚕𝚟𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚙𝚛𝚘𝚋𝚕𝚎𝚖, 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚖𝚎𝚍𝚍𝚕𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚢 𝚍𝚘.

𝚆𝚘𝚛𝚍 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚝: 4.4𝚔

𝙰/𝚗: 𝙲𝚊𝚖𝚎 𝚞𝚙 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚊𝚏𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚊 𝚢𝚊𝚙 𝚜𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚊𝚋𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚐 𝚂𝚒𝚕𝚌𝚘 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚊 𝚖𝚊𝚝𝚎 𝚒𝚗 𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚖 (𝚊𝚕𝚠𝚊𝚢𝚜 𝚊 𝚐𝚘𝚘𝚍 𝚜𝚒𝚐𝚗 𝚝𝚘 𝚋𝚎 𝚝𝚊𝚕𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊𝚋𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚂𝚒𝚕𝚌𝚘 𝚊𝚝 8𝚊𝚖 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚖𝚘𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐)

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

"I swear if I have to hear <<Reader>> swoon over Silco again!" A particular royal blue haired woman groaned out, her head thrown back for a moment before she slumped against the bar counter. "Honestly, does that woman have nothing else to talk about?

There was a rough and low chuckle heard, a large, muscular man setting out drinks for himself and his friend. "You should hear Silco talk about her."

The slouched woman spoke up again. "You know what she did the other day? Vander, not even a 'hello' or ' how are you', straight to 'Felicia, you'll never guess what Silco said to me today!'. I had to listen to her bloody rant for half an hour!"

"I'll tell you what's worse, yeah?" Vander said with an amused scoff, his forearm leaning against the counter as he looked down at Felicia. "Silco's poor attempts at covering any liking towards <<Reader>> ."

That gained a spit of laughter from the woman, she shook her head while she straightened herself up. "God, Silco loves to try and make out he doesn't have any emotions like the rest of us, doesn't he?"

Vander gave a small tilt of the head, almost a nod, but almost like he was shrugging his shoulders. "Can you really blame him? How much has he and <<Reader>> been through together?

She grew silent for a couple of short moments, before she gave a quick nod of acknowledgement as a sigh escaped her lips.

"You seriously don't think either of them are going to risk throwing that away?" The bigger man asked, while his words held their own weight to them, he held a small smirk on his face - as if the fear the two held were amusing to him - though it had faded quick. "Neither of them want to lose each other, admit it or not, they rely on each other like they do with air."

"But that only makes them work better together!" Felicia was quick to perk up, throwing her hands out in exaggeration. "They are more on the same page then you and Silco! It's like.... like they move in sync, like they read each other's mind!"

"I'm not denying that." Vander laughed out, holding a hand up in surrender, as he poured himself and the blue haired woman each a drink, placing the bottle down beside the two glasses. "But, you have to admit, you'd be scared of losing a connection like that, right?"

She sighed, shrugging her shoulders lightly. She grasped her drink and brought the glass to her mouth, and she did not respond.

A smug, victorious grin pulled on Vander's lips, but he covered it up as he, too, brought his drink to his lips.

∘₊✧──────────────── ✧₊∘

It was another cold, dark night in the Undercity and Silco, Vander and Felicia were all inside the *somewhat* warm bar. For the hundredth time, Felicia was standing near the jukebox, deciding on what song to play, while Vander was stuck cleaning up The Last Drop.

Silco, however, was as silent as a mouse, scribbling away in his notebook. He wasn't exactly focused on his two friends in the room with him, no, no, he was more so waiting for another familiar face he'd found growing himself attached to.

Whatever the man was thinking of, whether it be that one familiar face or the work he found himself constantly drowning in, he was too lost in thought, too much in his 'own world'. He didn't even realize as footsteps neared from behind, and as mischievous giggles were heard.

Rather suddenly, a pair of hands planted themselves firmly on each of the now startled man's shoulders with a loud 'rah!' sound, causing him to flinch and swiftly snap his head round to see who the hell decided to ambush him like that.

"What are you-" He immediately went to bark out, but when he was met with your innocent laughter, he couldn't help but soften his tone. " <<Reader>> ."

"That's me!" You said with a toothy grin, moving to slump down onto the bar stool beside him.

Silco faintly chuckled to himself, how absurd that he had gotten so startled from you of all people. He shook his head lightly, letting out a small tut while he turned back to his endless writing.

"You're stuck in your head too much." You declared with a huff, leaning your elbow on the counter and resting your chin on the palm of your hand. "You didn't even hear me come in!"

"I've got work to do, <<Reader>>." Silco mused gently, looking up for a moment with a grin on his face, his hand waving around subtly, but you really only noticed how quickly he had picked up his pen to continue his seemingly never ending work.

"Ah, yes," You rolled your eyes, though you weren't able to deny the little pit in your stomach when you realised that he was, in fact, a busy man. "Your work."

You turned your head to Vander who was already shaking his head at the absurdity of Silco never taking a break, this time you tutted, muttering under your breath to the man on the other side of the counter. "Work, work, work."

"Leave the man to his rambles, if that's what he wants so badly." Vander teased, which only caused Silco to shoot him a glare, not that Vander cared all that much. He only looked back at you. "Want anything?"

"You're telling me you don't know my usual yet?" You joked, spinning your head to look over at him, head still resting in your palm.

From anyone outside of your inner circle, you almost looked... enamoured by Vander, with your chin propped up comfortably by your hand and a bright grin plastering your face. Damn, the sight made Silco force his head away with a scowl he couldn't be bothered to hide away. He had to fight an audible scoff escaping his lips, he didn't want you to look back at him though, not when you obviously so busy talking with Vander.

You noticed the little side eye from Vander, no doubt checking on what Silco was doing after your attention diverted from him. Though, Vander couldn't help but letting out an entertained snigger as he poured out your usual drink. You didn't head much attention to it, assuming that it was just to check up on what he was doing.

Vander's eyes moved away once he had pushed the drink closer to you, looking over at Felicia who had been staring from across the room. The both of them could only share a certain look to the other, Silco, as much as he may deny it, was not good at keeping his emotions at bay when it came to you and it was safe to say that the two were starting to get bored of it.

As amusing as it was, and it was very amusing, Silco was becoming repetitive in his behaviour. He'd brush off any interaction with you and claim he was 'busy' with 'work', his face would contort into a scowl if Vander every talked to you - made you laugh, then he'd be in a mood until you spoke to him again, but, in truth, it was all just an endless cycle.

The whole endeavour was extremely confusing, for everyone involved! You were stuck believing Silco never had time for you, Vander was stuck believing that he was simply too afraid to lose you to let you in and Felicia was stuck believing that the two of you were just two annoying lovebirds who needed to rip the band aid off.

Then there was Silco.

Well, Silco was... who can really say what Silco was? He was a closed of man to everyone, just not so much to his three closest friends. Regardless of being close or not, it took too much observation to actually realise what Silco wanted to say - especially when it came down to confessing this new-found love for you.

And, really, who really had the time to look so deeply into Silco’s true character?

A familiar song started to echo throughout the room, a faint chuckle escaping Vander as he lightly shook his head. Felicia and ‘her’ song.

You turned your head, you had your own smirk on your face as you glanced over at the blue haired woman who was now swaying in her place. This whole scenario seemed to happen a lot of late, with Vander and Silco constantly trying to find ways to improve the Undercity, the for of you found yourselves in The Last Drop frequently.

"Again, 'Licia?" You asked with a laugh, turning your seat so that your back was leaning against the bar counter. "I basically know this song off by heart because of you!"

She shrugged light, swinging her arms and hips in tune to the music, eyes closed as if she was losing herself in the beat of it. You couldn't help yourself, she was having so much fun, so you pushed yourself off the bar stool and started to dance alongside her.

Her eyes had opened when she heard you laughter, somewhat matching her movements, which only caused her to start laughing alongside with you. She eventually grabbed your hands and started to jump around together.

"Why are you in a mood?" Vander asked Silco when you had moved away from the two men. "You were fine two seconds ago, then <<Reader>> comes over and you have that stupid scowl on your face again."

The seated man only let out a breath, rolling his eyes as he shook his head from side to side for a couple moments. "I am not in a mood."

Vander only laughed for a moment, leaning his hands on the counter. "Yes, you are."

"I am not." Silco repeated, refusing to look up at the ignorant grin that he knew that Vander would have.

"You are."

Now, that earned a deathly glare.

"For the love of-" Silco groaned, tutting under his breath once more, but this time it seemed out of genuine irritation - unlike when he was interacting with you. "I am not in a mood."

"Say what you will-" Vander said with a shrug of his shoulders, but was quickly cut off by Silco.

"You mean the truth?"

Vander ignored his old friend's comment and continued. "Say what you will, you're upset now. Why?"

Silco shook his head again, a soft sigh escaping his lips as he brought a hand to his face and rubbed the side of his head. It wasn't long before he was subconsciously looking bad at you, dancing along with the royal blue haired, music obsessed woman.

"You like her." Vander stated, it wasn't a question he needed answered, he would be able to see it even if he lost his sight.

Silco turned back, tutting again, as if the whole idea was a ludicrous idea, he picked up his pen again, looking down at his notebook - usually it was a sign to back off and leave him be. "I don't know what you're talking about, Vander."

"Yes, you do." Vander said, scoffing.

"I'm not playing this back-and-forth game again." Silco frowned over at Vander, his eyebrows furrowing in frustration.

"Of course, of course." Vander laughed lowly, putting his hands up in a mock surrender. "But, you're lying to me. Again."

The smaller man didn't reply this time, he couldn't be bothered to continue this unbelievable conversation. You were you, and he was him. There was no you and him, not in the way that Vander was talking about, and there never would be. Silco had to be focused on the future of Zaun because, if he didn't, what would be the point in even attempting to live in the shit-hole?

The silence that Vander got only caused him to sigh in defeat, he leaned both his forearms against the counter, trying to look at Silco's face, even when it was faced downwards. "Fine, you don't know what I'm talking about, but if you keep acting distant towards <<Reader>>, she's going to move on from you."

"Not a problem." Silco spoke with an almost cold tone. "She doesn't like me in the way you're suggesting, so, there's no moving on to do.

Vander didn't have much to say in response because, really, Silco thought that?

Over on the other side of the room, similar to the conversation Vander had with Silco, Felicia was planning to talk to you about your, not so, subtle attraction towards your mutual friend.

"Sooo..." The blue haired woman started in the midst of your dancing. "What's going on, hm? You and Silco?"

"What about me and Silco?" You asked, your movements faltered slightly, but you didn't want the two men by the bar to notice your change in demeanour.

Felicia laughed out faintly, shaking her head. "Don't play stupid now, what just happened? Scaring him like that?"

You rolled your eyes at her clear suggestion, it was harmless fun, a small trick to scare him for a moment while he was off in his own thoughts. You couldn't let it be anything more than that. "I just scared him?"

She made a noise that was clear that she disagreed with your statement. "C'mon! You don't seriously think you're going to convince me that that's true."

"C'mon, 'licia, there isn't anything between me and Silco, you know that." You said with a small sigh, shaking your head, you had completely stopped moving now.

Felicia raised her eyebrows, she still wasn't buying it, she couldn't - she wouldn't.

"Seriously." You sternly spoke, crossing your arms over your chest. "Don't you see he's too busy for me?"

The navy haired woman's eyes narrowed at that, she was sure she didn't hear you correctly. He... didn't have time for you? Since when? From her perspective, he was constantly looking over his shoulder to check up on you, sure, you didn't see it all the time, but it was happening.

"Too busy? What the hell are you on about?" She quickly said, her tone a little harsher than she intended, but that was purely because of how taken aback she was from your statement.

"The fuck you mean, what am I on about?" You tutted quietly, a hand going up to your face to pinch the bridge of your nose. "It's pretty clear, no? He cares too much about Zaun. Rightfully so, of course, but..."

You cut yourself off with a sigh, moving your hands back to cross over your chest, but it was different from before. The time before felt like a protective shield, whereas, this time, it was almost like a comforting sort of action.

Your friend in front of you didn't push you to explain further, she never needed to previously, but when you didn't continue on with your sentence she started to speak.

"<<Reader>>..." She spoke softly, her tone gentle and welcoming to you so that you would actually speak your mind.

"Oh, leave it." You hissed, you head snapping up to meet her grey eyes.

She was stunned. She could only stare at your for a few silent moments, where did that anger and aggression come from? Why did it rise so suddenly from the topic of Silco? Surely it would be the opposite, you like him, she and Vander could see it and, yet, you voice had turned as cold as ice.

"What's goin-" Felicia tried, but was quickly cut off again.

"I said leave it!" You snapped, your voice was raised and you felt all three pairs of eyes on you, which caused you to sink a little n your stance.

You glanced back over at the two men who were staring at you, soon shaking your head as your eyes fixated on your boots. You didn't remain standing there, you couldn't face those confused stares from Silco and Vander and that pitiful, sorrowful look on Felicia's face.

"Whatever." You muttered.

With that, you turned and walked away from Felicia, heading straight for the door to leave.

You swung open the door and breathed in, the Undercity's heavy air filling your lungs, but the suffocating feeling was nothing new and your version of fresh air, one that had started to become comforting when you got out of heated situations.

You were planning on walking home, going straight to bed or to the bottle - whichever called your name first when you walked into the comfort of your house.

However, just as your turned into one of the many dreary, notorious alleyways in the Undercity, you heard quickly paced footsteps from behind.

You were in no mood for one of your three friends to come running after you, so you ignored it, head down - like you would usually do when passing a stranger in the streets, pretending like you could easily slip away into the shadows.

"<<Reader>>!" You heard a familiar voice yell.

For fuck's sake, your heart swelled at his voice. Silco.

"Silco, I'm not in the mood." You called out from behind, you should have known that, out of everyone there, Silco would be the one to run after you.

He would never let you slip away into the shadows.

Never.

"Wait." He groaned in frustration, jogging up next to you so he could grab your arm. "Wait."

"Leave me alone, Silco." You hissed, giving a poor attempt at pulling your arm away from his grasp.

"If you really wanted me to leave you alone," He started, his fingers tightening around the skin on your arm. "You would've gotten me off you.

You scoffed, this time ripping your arm away from his grasp. "How about now? You think I want you to leave me alone now?"

His face contorted into a look of confusion, eyes narrowing as if he was prying into your soul to get some sort of wordless answer. Then he finally spoke up. "What is going on with you?"

"Nothing." You quickly said, crossing your arms over your chest again.

Ah, there goes that protective shield again. Silco would be able to recognise that anywhere, but he couldn't pinpoint why the hell you thought you needed to keep up with defensive nature when it was him.

"Stop lying." He huffed, his eyes didn't falter from staring deep into yours, but you weren't about to look away from his disturbing gaze - you weren't about to lose to the man who clearly implied to you that he had no time of day for you.

You should have been able to lower you guard with him, like you had done every single day before this. You were being to clear, transparent. He was going to start putting things together and you couldn't lose him, just like he couldn't lose you because Vander was correct, he always was.

You rely on each other like you do with air.

"Talk to me." Silco commanded.

No, he didn't command. There was a hint of... desperation in his tone, like he was begging you to talk to him, explain what was going on like you used to do so often.

"Now you have time for me?" You spitefully laughed, your hands moving to rest on your hips. "Now you can talk to me?"

Silco's eyes narrowed further, what the fuck were you going on about?

"What do you mean by that?" He asked slowly. Warily.

"You know what I mean by that."

Did he? Because he was sitting there with a look on his face that infuriated you, or was that because he thought that he could get away with playing dumb? You knew that he was a smart man, he knew it and he knew that you knew it, so why even attempt it?

"You act as if you're too busy for me!" You quickly called out, your arms extending outwards to empathise your statement. "Always scribbling away in that notebook, never even looking at me- at... at us when we talk to you!"

This time, Silco's face changed from the confused puppy look. His brows furrowed, his lips turning downwards into a frown.

You've triggered something.

"Oh, I haven't got time for you?" He questioned, taking a step towards you - something he would do to intimate others, but to you? It meant nothing. "What about how you always seem so focused on Vander, huh?"

Now it was your turn, face contorting into one of your own confused expressions, your hands dropping to your sides. You stared at him silence for a couple of seconds, just as he had done for you.

"You know how that feels?" Silco continued, holding at hand near his chest before extending over to where The Last Drop was. "Watching as you laugh and joke with him, right next to me?"

"What?" You breathed out, your voice thick with utter and sharp confusion. "What do you mean by that?"

The man's face softened, but not really into an expression of caring towards you, he was simply mirroring your bewildered look. The two of you were stuck staring at each other, both trying to pull out answers from the silences shared.

"Why are you being so strange?" You asked, shoving your hands into your pockets now.

"I could ask you the same thing." He quickly retorted.

He got you there, you couldn't lie now. You could lie about the feelings you ahd towards Silco, about how every time you saw him checking up on you over your shoulder sent butterflies in your stomach, about how every time his fingers glided over yours when passing your something it sent shivers down your spine.

But this? Yeah, no, he got you stumped.

A grin pulled at your lips finally, looking down for a moment as you shook your head. "Damn you."

"Are you going to tell me what's going on now?" He asked, his tone a lot more gentler now that you weren't in such a downer mood. "Or am I going to have to start guessing?"

You made a small face, eyes squinting as your nose scrunched up. "I just told you what's wrong."

"No, you didn't." Silco argued, crossing his arms over his chest again. "You just accused me of not talking to you."

"Because you're not." You scoffed.

"I am-!" He groaned out, his voice getting a little louder, before he took a deep breath and lowered his voice. "I am talking to you, what are you on about?"

You looked away for a moment, you didn't know to phrase it without seeming like a complete jerk who didn't care about his dream to better Zaun. "You.. you're focused on Zaun, an-and I can admire that, really, I can. but... Silco, I've been trying to-"

You cut yourself off, you noticed that intensive look he had, hanging onto every word you said, as if he was trying to memorise what you were saying as you said it. "I've been trying to show you that..."

Dear Janna, you couldn't do it.

"What?" He aske, he took another step forwards, it was different than before, his mannerisms more personalised for you - reserved for you. "What have you been trying to show me?"

You shook your head, moving your arms to hug your abdomen, looking down at the ground. You were behaving like a little child at this point, refusing to tell their parent something in fear of getting lectured at.

Before your eyes could even focus on what he was doing, his hands reached out your your arms, long fingers trailing down your arm to grasp your hands and bring them outwards. The action, catching you off guard, caused you to swiftly move your head upwards, eyes locking with his green ones.

"Talk to me." This time there was no mistaking this with a command, he was aching for you to speak up, his heart was racing in his chest so fast simply because he was scared for once in his life.

"Silco..." You whispered faintly, he could see the look of hurt in your eyes, fear, almost.

"<<Reader>>..." He responded with, his voice as quiet as yours. "Come on, please."

"You don't like me as I like you." You finally said, your voice barely over a whisper, barely even audible to Silco's ears and he was standing a few inches away from you.

One of his hands withdrew from yours, leisurely moving up to the side of your face. Your head slowly moved up in time with his hand when you realised what he was doing, shivers going down your spine as he pushed a strand of your hair behind your ear.

But it didn't end there.

Your heart pounded in your chest so much so that you were sure that your breathing was picking up, his hand cupped the side of your face, thumb delicately caressing your skin as if you were a fragile piece of glass - any touch too hard would shatter you.

Even this was too hard though, you could feel yourself breaking down every second he remained with his hand cupping your face.

He was breaking you.

"Now where did you get that impression, hm?" He spoke in a hushed tone, his head moving down slightly so that he was more level to yours.

Your eyes were locked onto his like some sort of hypnotising spiral that was forced into your eyesight, one that you were forced to stare at until your got dizzy.

He was careful in his movement, calculating. His eyes darted down to your lips, then up to your eyes, then back down to your damned lips. You could feel his breath hitting your skin, even his breath was picking up. The slow pace was killing you, but you knew he wasn't going to move in fully until he was certain that you were going to as well.

So you did.

You felt your body, even if it was a subconscious decision, lean a little closer to his, your head tilting upwards so that he didn't have to lean down anymore than he already was.

The breath from your lungs disappeared the moment your felt his lips touch yours, eyes snappy to close. His lips pressed against yours for a somewhat brief kiss, before he pulled away quickly. Too quickly.

His eyes were wrapped up in your tranquil gape, but his was far away still, stuck with searching for answers. Why couldn't he just see you wanted him more?

This time, you leaned up, ramming your lips into his. The unexpected action caught him in surprise, a shocked hum being muffled by your kiss, but he was quick to return the affection. His eyes closing while his hand on your cheek got a little more possessive, his other hand moving to your waist to pull your closer into his body. Instinctively, your hand moved to his shoulder, just barely on the crook of his neck while the other firmly planted itself on his chest.

When the two of you parted from the kiss, your faces remained close together, his nose brushing against yours, half-lidded eyes still eyeing your lips.

"You have no idea how long I've wanted to do that..." He finally whispered against your lips. "And, here you are, thinking I have no time for you."

"And here you were thinking I was trying to get with Vander." You muttered back, a faint laugh coming from you.

You could hear Silco huff. "Don't ruin this now."

You rolled your eyes a little at that, but you didn't move away. You'd let him have the last word, you got the last kiss, after all.

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

Masterlist

[silcoitus]

Hiiiii! I absolutely love your work (as you may have noticed, but idk if I was vocal enough about it 🤔).

I saw you were answering asks with scenarios with Silco and I was thinking...I've been kind of down in the dumps lately and I'm really interested in your take how Silco would confort his s/o in such a situation. I live for hurt/comfort and it helps me tremendously and I feel like there is a criminak lack of such fics with Silco, but if you don't feel inspired, that's completely ok! Again, I really love everything you write, have a great day!

Thank you, Robin, for the request! And thank you for all your kind words today in my DMs. My heart is overflowing with all the love and support I've received today.

To be loved

Rating: Mature

Word count: 1.8k

Beta reader: none

Tags: Silco x gn!reader, soft Silco, established relationship, depression, fluff, hurt/comfort, emotional hurt/comfort, angst, angsty with a happy ending

One more bad day after a series of bad days leaves you feeling numb and dejected. Getting out of bed seems an impossible task. But thankfully, your partner Silco knows exactly what you need to get you out of your funk.

Read on AO3

A/N: I have written so much smut lately, writing hurt/comfort is so refreshing. Also ngl I made myself tear up a bit while writing this and getting into the reader headspace. As a depression girlie myself, I've def had these sorts of days.

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

Join my taglist!

[velvetvampyric]

Where she owns a herbal medicinal kinda shop and meets him thru that? With maybe some soulmate or fated union?

———

Poll is done, I will be making a Silco x witch reader fic in the near future! I already have lots of moments and rough drafts in mind for it, so I will begin writing them down.

<3