#dwm drabble

[starryhazerry]

[syrupsyche]

Is Marius in the teacher au? :0 👀

HI EMILE!! Indeed he is!:

before DWM exchange happened, Marius was meant to be the "first" story of the AU: he comes in as a trainee teacher for a few months! Some details from that:

He is assigned English and Languages and thus shadows Courfeyrac (English) and Prouvaire (Languages) in their lessons. Courf is, as we can see, very happy.

Marius is quite young here; about 22-23? And he's so baby-faced that he could probably pass for a senior in school (if not for his incredibly tall height)

When a student first asked him his name, he panicked and said Marius so he's now just. Mr Marius instead of Mr Pontmercy 😭

Georges Pontmercy was a teacher too before he passed away; Gillenormand had looked down on the career and so in a fit of not-so-teenage rebellion, Marius abandoned Gillenormand's plans for him to inherit their old family business and instead, tried to do what his father did and become a teacher himself. Whether or not he stays in this career is yet to be seen....

Hopefully if the motivation persists, I'll write a little drabble fic of Marius' time at the school! I think regardless whether or not he stays, he would enjoy it very very much :33

[vampstel]

I feel like I should infodump whenever I introduce a new OC so here we goooo let’s talk about Allison!! This is mainly going to be focusing on her relationship with Lawrence, afterall he’s our main character :P

I mentioned her briefly in the last DWM episode so you might know her as Lawrence’s sister. She’s the youngest out of the 3 Winters siblings, only being 24. As a comparison, she and Lawrence have an 11 year age gap. However, the two are very close!! Afterall, Lawrence took care of her when she was 10 after the death of their mother.

I won’t go too in-depth about this, but Lawrence helped Allison a lot during this time. From coping with the loss of their mom, helping with school work, puberty, etc. Lawrence took care of both of his siblings but especially paid attention to her since she was young. He’s extremely overprotective of her and sometimes it pisses Allison off to no end. (But obviously she won’t be mad at him for too long. She knows he’s only looking out for her. They argue a lot, but they always reconcile in the end.)

They often bicker and tease each other whenever they can, especially in relation to love since the two of them are both hopeless romantics. Lawrence brings Rei up A LOT during conversation and Allison always teases him about it. Oh, and she randomly texts him things like “How’s your boyfriend?” and other things to the point Lawrence blocked her number for weeks LOL

Allison is a lesbian and she easily gets flustered by pretty women. Like, she is pathetic when it comes to girls. She’s an extrovert, she’s great at conversing but oh man… a pretty girl? Expect her to stumble over her words as Lawrence tries his best not to laugh at her.

The easiest way I can describe her personality is that she’s the exact opposite of her brother. She’s very open, kind, and energetic. But she shares one trait with Lawrence and that’s being stubborn in every sense of the word. This is why they argue a lot and poor Matthew (the middle sibling, their other brother) just has to endure it in the background. I’ll talk about Mattie some other day.

And also, as of present, she gets along with Rei well. She’s like the extroverted version of him so…

Before I finish, here’s a lightning round:

She’s very interested in fashion and dreams to be a model someday

I haven’t figured out her exact birthday, but I believe the sign Aries fits her best and her MBTI is ENFP

She’s 165 cm (or 5’5”). She got most of her features from her mother

May or may not have undiagnosed ADHD. It isn’t a big part of her overall story but it’s definitely noticeable in some of the drabbles I’ve written of her

And that’s all!! I love her a lot,, she’s just a silly girlboss who likes to harass her big brother and I’m fully supportive of that

[cutelilcurtain]

prompt: late night conversations while baby Scully-Mulder keeps getting out of his/hers (whatever you prefer) crib. Loved your last fic btw 😍

you ANGEL, thank you for the prompt and the love. Let’s pretend that everything was on the up and up after season 8 and none of the runaway silliness of season 9 happened. Only happy endings for my FBI agents and their son. I may try an honest long-form drabble style for this, so bear with me.

“Goodnight, William. Go to sleep for mommy, please.”

It’s been nearly forty-five minutes of wrangling the boy into bed, fighting over which toy to take to bed, which story to hear, how to brush his teeth, why he can’t sleep on the couch in the living room. Mommy and Daddy are tired. Your nightlight is just as bright as it was last night, honey. It’s time for bed.

It was time for everyone’s bed about an hour ago.

Mulder and Scully had both faced long workdays as of late, and with William at four months shy of two years old, they’d been testing out a new preschool near the apartment in Georgetown. It meant that he’d picked up on some new habits, courtesy of his more rambunctious peers. “No” had become a new favorite retort. He’d spilled his food across the table with much too much premeditation to be an accident, not to mention he squealed in delight with every new mess he made. And now, the icing on the cake, he’d begun refusing to go to bed when asked.

A giggle betrays William’s true intentions as he bids his mother goodnight.

"Night night, mama.”

Scully flicks the light switch off and lets the swirling glow of his starlight projector nightlight fill the room. Closing the door behind her, Scully heaves a sigh and trudges into the bedroom.

Mulder has a mouthful of toothpaste, and he manages to speak around it before spitting.

"B’by go dwm?”

Scully laughs and crawls onto her side of the bed.

“Yes, Stallone, the baby went down just fine. Finally.”

Mulder cleans his face and shuts the bathroom light off, padding around to the other side of the bed, sitting and pressing a kiss to Scully’s cheek. It earns him a smile as the redhead settles back on her pillows, eyes closing softly. Mulder picks up his book from his end table and begins to turn the pages, bookmark falling to his bare chest. Scully breaks the silence gently.

“Did you pick up your dry cleaning today?”

“No, there was a detour for construction and I didn’t feel like going to the trouble.”

“Give me the tag, I’ll pick it up tomorrow. I’ve got to pick up my mom's ring from the jeweler anyway. It was being cleaned.”

“Alright. I’m working a little later tomorrow, I’m having the brakes checked on my car in the morning.”

“Oh, I need to-”

A distinct thud sounds from the room down the hall, and Scully sits up.

“What was that?”

She gets up and moves to the hall. From William’s bedroom, she can hear him laughing, whispering to himself. She swings the door open, much to William’s delight, and he jumps up from his newly made pile of toys and tries to run away from her. Scooping him into her arms, Scully sighs.

“William. If I catch you out of bed one more time, you’re in big trouble- got it?”

William simply laughs and wriggles around as Scully lays him down to sleep again. Scully turns to leave again.

“Go to sleep, please, Will.”

Scully goes back to her side of the bed as Mulder chuckles to himself.

“He’s too clever,” Mulder chortles.

Scully is quick to fire back. “He’s your son.”

Silence settles again, broken only by the turning of Mulder’s pages when the thud sounds from William’s bedroom again.

“Mulder.”

“I got him.”

Mulder rises from the bed, book face down on the duvet. He walks to William’s door and snaps it open with a sharp hey! Scully can hear the toddler’s laughs, followed by Mulder’s firm come on now buddy. It’s time for bed. No more games.

The door closed, Mulder settles back in bed with his book once more, laughing softly. He gives Scully a sideways glance.

“He’s got my height, I knew that crib wasn’t going to last.”

“I suppose we’ll need to look at some toddler beds, but that won’t stop him from getting out in the middle of the night.”

“He’ll get tired eventually.”

The thud sounds again, and as Mulder goes to stand, Scully waves him off.

“Wait, wait. I want to see what he does.”

Their bedroom door is still slightly ajar, and through the darkness of the hallway, Scully watches as William’s doorknob turns, unlatches, and squeaks open. The toddler steps out, nothing but a little t-shirt and his diaper on, but his eyes mischievous as ever. He toddles down the hall, not knowing his mother is watching closely.

She steps to the door, hands on her hips.

“William James Scully, what did I just tell you?”

The little boy jumps and spins around to face his mother, bottom lip instantly quivering. He bursts into tears, melting into a tantrum on the floor.

Scully facepalms, muttering to herself. “Oh, Christ.”

She turns back to Mulder, who can’t help but laugh, shrugging.

“Is now a bad time to say I’ve been thinking about more kids?”

[starryhazerry]

[starryhazerry]

[starryhazerry]

[ink-and-dagger]

Hii, idk is this a weird request but. Silcos s/o fainting.

SO I got the idea 15 minutes ago when I got up too quick and just bam, lights out. My first thoughts waking up on the floor was just 1. Wtf 2. Wouldn't it be hilarious if my fav villain was looking at me confused af rn.

So like. They've just been discussing something, maybe the s/o was sitting on his couch while Silco got some paperwork done and then like

Silco: dear, could you fetch me the last weeks reports from downstairs(or sumn)

S/o. Ye. *gets up and BAM*

YUH UH. LOVE YE BYE

It isn't a weird request at all, and even if it was I love being sent weird shit. I realise that this ask is nearly 3 months old but I hope you're okay💜

I've actually had this half written for a while, but realistically I can’t see myself finding anymore time to extend or finesse it, so I’m just gonna post it as is. It's short and pretty rough, but I hope you enjoy all the same!

Also I hope you don't mind but I've used Astrid as the reader because this is just very in-character for her🥲

Silco x Reader || Silco x Astrid || Fainting || Unedited drabble

The toes of your boots tap absently together high above you - perched as they are atop the back of the crimson chaise in Silco’s office. The rest of you sprawled in a diagonal swoon across the seat cushions.

“You’re doing it again,” Silco chides beneath his breath ­- a mockingly melodic baritone from his seat at his desk, eyes not lifting from the papers in front of him.

Your boots halt their tapping, and you drop your book page down upon your chest in a huff.

“Bored,” you complain.

“Yes, you’ve already mentioned,” he responds patiently, “Which is why I suggested some quiet reading.”

You pull a face and discard the book on the coffee table, “Can’t get into it. Feel restless.”

A lengthy exhale hisses from his nose, and his gaze ticks upwards to meet yours. Long, unimpressed face upside down in your vision from your position upon the sofa.

“If you’re feeling restless then you can make yourself useful,” his attention drops back to his work, and he gestures towards his bookshelves with a flick of his pen, “Fetch me the profit ledger for this quarter. Bottom shelf.”

“What’s the magic word?”

“Now.”

You roll your eyes and swing your legs off the back of the sofa in a single dramatic swoop to spring to your—

“Sweetheart?”

The voice swims and warps at the edges of your mind. Loud and distant all at once. The surface beneath your spine is hard and coarse. Your vision remains obscured by a fluttering curtain of darkness which slowly recedes to the outer edges in swirling patterns of dappled red and chem-green.

A face above yours. Eyes that don’t match beneath dark, pinched brows. Mouth drawn tight and age lines deep with apprehension. Cute though.

Your mouth quirks into a dopey smile.

“Hey there handsome,” you trill.

Concern darkens to irritation, “I’ve told you not to lie upside down on the sofa like that. You’re as bad as Jinx. At least she has the excuse of adolescence.”

“S’comfy.”

“Be that as it may, you—don’t even think about it,” Silco growls, pressing firmly on your sternum to force you back down to the rug when you attempt to shift up onto your elbows.

“I’m fine Silco. Just stood up too fast is all.”

“And do you think repeating that mistake is the best course of action? Lay still.”

“Cluck cluck mother hen,” you grumble. But your complaint goes ignored. Silco shifts from his haunches to sit properly at your side, and his arm snakes beneath your knees to lift them, gathering them in a bundle up onto his shoulder.

“Not now Silco. Not in the mood.”

He offers you a slow, unimpressed blink, “It’s to help the blood flow back to your brain. I shouldn’t think it will take all that long to fill up again.”

You flip him the middle finger and his annoyance chips away just a crack, allowing through a tiniest of smirks.

[ink-and-dagger]

Wait Inky ! A mini mini mini mini fic about Astrid simping about Silco’s hair and calling him a silver fox please I beg on my knees🧎‍♀️🧎‍♀️🧎‍♀️🧎‍♀️🧎‍♀️🧎‍♀️🧎‍♀️🧎‍♀️🧎‍♀️🧎‍♀️🧎‍♀️🧎‍♀️

Well... since you're on your knees and all...

SILVER FOX

Silco x Reader || Silco x Astrid || Post DWM || Established Relationship || SFW but a tad suggestive || wc: 900~ || AO3

“I just figured out something that’s been bugging me.”

An absent hum is Silco’s only response – an automatic sound, not one of interest or enquiry. His gaze doesn’t lift from the papers in front of him, and the scratch of his pen doesn’t cease its rhythmic flow.

You roll your eyes and sit up from your horizontal recline along the length of the crimson sofa, discarding your book onto the coffee table as you do. It’s not like you’ve even been reading it for the past ten minutes. The leather-bound hardback has instead provided the perfect cover for your surreptitious spying – a wall of paper propped on your chest over which to peek and observe your crime lord boyfriend hard at work.

You’ve found yourself completely taken by the way the nimbus of light from his desk lamp touches the high points of his cheek bones. What a contrast the soft amber glow is to the stern features it illuminates; striking lines etched in a habitual scowl of concentration.

“It’s been on the tip of my brain ever since I returned from my undue banishment,” you lament, swinging your boots off the arm of the sofa to stand. You stroll towards the desk, fingers walking over the various piled items as you round the edge, “Never quite managed to pin the thought down though… until now.”

Another hum, delayed by half a beat this time, and veined with splinters of annoyance. He should really know by now that such things only spur you on.

You slip into the narrow gap between his desk and chair, and pluck his pen straight from his fingers, tucking it behind your ear for safe keeping. Silco’s jaw tightens immediately, and flashing, ire-filled eyes snap up to meet yours. But you’re quick to pull the plug on his rising anger – irritation shifts to begrudging appeasement as you kneel up onto his chair, straddling his hips to settle down into his lap.

“Don’t you want to hear about what I realised?”

“I’ve the distinct feeling you’ll be informing me regardless,” Silco mutters darkly.

“Your hair,” you skim your fingertips over the long styled strands atop his head. More specifically the silvering band which cuts through the sea of pitch dark, extending back from the left side of his brow half-way towards the crown, “You didn’t have this streak before I left. It’s new.”

“Mm. Oddly enough I’ve been greying a lot faster since you came into my life.”

“Seems to me like not being in your life kickstarted this fancy little stripe here,” you retort with a cocky smirk.

The click of his tongue accompanies the fleeting, skyward roll of his eyes, even as his hands drop from the armrests to alight on your thighs and smooth affectionately up towards your hips.

“Is this you hinting that I should start dyeing my hair?”

“Gods no,” you splutter upon a horrified chuckle, “I love the grey.”

“You do, hm?”

“Oh absolutely,” you run your fingers through the cropped salt and pepper strands either side of his head, “I think it’s very refined.”

“Refined?”

You confirm with a hum, nails scraping lightly as you drag them back against the grain towards his temples, leaving ruffled hair in your wake, “Very dashing.”

“Dashing,” he repeats; the single word a vague murmur beneath his breath. 

His seafoam eye becomes half hidden beneath its drooping lid thanks to the languid patterns you trace into his scalp, hitting all the spots you know he likes best. You press yourself closer, arching your spine until your chest presses flush against his, and all it takes is the tilt of your chin to brush your lips in a sensual tease against his.

“Very sexy,” you whisper.

You receive a throaty rumble in response, and your knees slide against the leather seat of Silco’s chair as he drags you even closer by the hips. He attempts to steal a kiss but you pull back just a little, leaving him chasing your lips as you delve your fingers deep into the thick hair atop his head, no longer caring for the integrity of his careful styling as you comb it into a dishevelled mess.

“You’re a total silver fox.”

The curl of his mouth is both amused and pleased. His heavily lidded gaze remains on you, even as his skull rolls and sways atop his spine; puppeted by the pampering knead of your hands.

He indulges himself a little longer before speaking. The words a smooth, low roll over his tongue, “Do you honestly believe that flattery is going to save you?”

Your fingers still, “Save me?”

Your stomach swoops as the world around you pitches. Papers rustle and crumple beneath your spine as your back makes heavy contact with the surface of Silco’s desk, the man himself caging you in from above. Dark, predatorial eyes snatch all the air from your lungs, and the hubristic hook of his lips ignites a molten fire in the depths of your gut.

His hands curl around the edge of the desk either side of your head, wood creaking as he lowers himself until his face hovers bare inches above yours. Tousled hairs of both black and silver falling forward to tickle your brow.

“It’s high time you learn what happens to impertinent little vixens who interrupt my work.”

[ink-and-dagger]

we need Astrid to make a bracelet for Silco

I agree Anon. Super quick little drabble off the top of my brain for you 😘 💜🖤💙

You bound up to the desk and round it, plopping yourself down into Silco’s lap with an excited grin.

“I have a surprise for you.”

His mouth and eyebrow twitch in unison, a sound of enquiry vibrating from his throat.

Your grin widens, “Hold out your hand, close your eye… and like… cover the other one or something.”

Silco chuckles, but does as he’s told.

You ignore the upturned palm, and instead tie the gift directly around his wrist. A home-made bracelet — thin leather cords of black, red, and gold, plaited together with a single gold coin charm hanging from it.

“Okay - open!”

Silco opens his eye and uncovers the other, inspecting the gift around his wrist as a small smile touches his lips.

“Very stylish indeed.”

“Jinx and I made them today,” you explain, holding up your own wrist to display a similar bracelet of purple, black, and gold, “She braided up to the charm, and I braided the other half. We all match. Hers is pink, blue, and purple - in case you were wondering.”

He chuckles again, and leans forward to press a kiss to your lips, “We’ll be the envy of all the Lanes. Thank you, Love.”

You capture his face when he pulls away, and steal another chaste kiss. Before smiling softly at him.

“Don’t worry, I won’t force you to wear it.”

“No coercion necessary. It goes with my outfit perfectly.”

You huff a quiet laugh and plant another kiss to his mouth, sweeping your thumb against his cheek, “I mean it. We won’t be offended if you take it off.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” Silco says sincerely, twisting his wrist so that the charm catches the lamp light.

“It won’t get in the way?”

“I’m certain it won’t,” he says gently, twining your fingers together and holding up your joined hands to inspect the matching bracelets side-by-side, “And if it does, I’ll simply tuck it inside my sleeve.”

[ink-and-dagger]

May I gift you a prompt that I thought of while thinking about silcos face.

Astrid/reader: “I came up here to ask you a question but you look so good in this light I forgot and have decided to just stand here and gaze at you lovingly”

Yes you may gift me with the prompt. May I gift you with a quick Astro drabble?

Admin 📑💜

Silco x Astrid || SFW || Romance over paperwork

You frown down at the papers spread across your lap; cross-legged as you are upon one of Silco’s spare chairs beside him. The wood bites into your ankle bone a little, but the position is still more comfortable than sitting ’pRopErLy’ as your mum would say.

You’ve sorted this quarter’s purchase orders into the months they were raised, but you aren’t sure if he’d prefer them sub-filed withinthose months chronologically or by value.

“Silco?”

“Hm?” He looks up from his own work to meet your gaze.

The neon haze filtering through the full-moon window at his back catches within his green eye and sets it winking like a shard of raw aquamarine. From this angle the light deepens the shadows cast by sharp features and marbled scar-tissue; intensifying his ominous beauty in a way that snatches your breath and scatters your thoughts.

“Did you have a question?”

You blink.

Silco arches a single brow.

“Y'know…” you begin, a warm smile spreading slow and wide across your face, “I completely forgot what I was going to ask.”

“Have you suffered a recent blow to the head?”

“Nuh-uh,” you shake, propping an elbow on your knee and resting your cheek in the cup of your palm, “You’re just too pretty is all.”

He scoffs quietly, but the tiny upwards twitch at the corner of his lip gives him away, “If anyone in this room is guilty of being too pretty, it would be you.”

“No you,” you coo, giving his shoulder a flirtatious shove for good measure.

He snatches your retreating wrist; halting it in the air between you. Silco doesn’t move a muscle more �� it’s the tug of his ineffable gravity that has you leaning slowly into his space, ribbons of heat unfurling through you.

“Oh sweetheart,” he chides in a rumbling purr, cocking his head a scant fraction, “Surely you should know better by now than to disagree with me.”

You bite your lip to catch your smirk. Your gaze drags over his face, only an inch or two away from yours now.

“Mm, you’d think,” you concede in a low murmur, drawing the tip of your nose up the side of his in a teasing graze, “Maybe all my rational thoughts have been scrambled up by how pretty you are.”

Despite the half-lidded insolence of his expression, you spot his amusement in the tell-tale press of his tongue against the inside of his cheek.

“Pretty, pretty, pretty,” you sing-song beneath your breath, free hand rising to drum your fingertips up his jawline. You reach the fringes of his scar, where the skin darkens and the lines deepen. Your chest floods with the kind of affection that bruises your heart, and your touch softens; flipping to brush the backs of your knuckles up his cheekbone.

“My most beautiful monster,” you whisper.

And you can see the ache that fills his chest too at your words. A vulnerable yearning for something that a small and broken part of him still at times forgets already belongs to him.

So you offer a gentle reminder in the form of a kiss; pressed warm and deep upon his lips.

He remembers then —all the way down to the lingering scars inside himself— and you open in willing surrender to the slow and sensual siege of his mouth. His tongue and hands and body heat.

The papers slide from your lap and scatter across the floor completely out of order; chronological or otherwise.

[ink-and-dagger]

I just wanna grab a hairbrush and comb Silco's hair, is that too much to ask 😔

No sweetheart, that isn’t too much to ask at all 🖤

“This wasn’t the agreement.”

You ignore the man sat in the wooden chair in front of you, and continue to drag the brush through his pomaded hair, ensuring it lays nice and flat either side of the crisp centre parting you’ve created.

“Darling,” the baritone of Silco’s voice contains a warning not dissimilar to a distant roll of thunder. A classic Eye of Zaun technique that’s unrivalled in its effectiveness at striking ice cold fear into the hearts of anyone unlucky enough to be on the receiving end.

Except you. Naturally.

“Need I remind you that I have an important Baron meeting today?”

“No, you need not remind me. I’m well aware. All the more reason for you to look smart—”

Your voice pitches into a squeak and you clamp your quivering lips together to trap the giggles which threaten to escape. Silco glowers at you in the mirror from beneath the flattened dark curtains of hair. The entire effect is spectacular. Like a petulant Piltovian school boy.

“Suits you,” you cheep.

His expression darkens even further.

You lean down and rest your forearms upon his shoulders, meeting his gaze in the mirror as his knee begins to bounce an irritated rhythm.

“You should have known better than to let me do your hair.”

“I do know better,” his green eye narrows, “But seeing as you held every brush I own hostage until I agreed to your demand, I was left with no choice.”

You pull a face and shrug as if to say Eh - what can ya do?

Silco’s boot heel ceases its impatient tapping, and he fixes you with a stern look.

“You’ve had your fun,” he reasons calmly, “Now, would you be so kind as to fix the mess you’ve created?”

“Fine,” you concede, straightening once more, “we’ll have you looking snazzy for your big meeting in just a jiffy.”

He looks placated enough as you sweep the soft bristles through his hair from brow to crown a few times to undo the centre part, before tucking the brush up under your arm and using your fingers to delve deep into the roots and manipulate the long strands up into an impressive spike.

“How about a mohawk instead?”

Silco closes his eye, and empties his lungs in a long-suffering sigh.

[ink-and-dagger]

I found this and instantly thought of Astrid and Silco. She would 100% buy these for their weekly drinking sessions. ALSO THIS FANFICTION HAS DESTROYED ME EMOTIONALLY AND RUINED ME FOR ANY OTHER SILCO PORTRAYAL THIS WILL ALWAYS BE T H E BEST ONE FOR ME

Silco’s lip curls in a show of distaste as he lays a single, dexterous finger upon the rim of one of the new tumblers you’ve proudly set out upon the desk, and tips it towards the light.

“… It’s rainbow.”

“It’s pretty,” you coo dreamily.

“I’m not having these on display.”

“And why not?”

“It doesn’t fit my aesthetic.”

“But it does fit mine,” you counter sagely.

His gaze ticks up to you from beneath his brow, “I’m unsure how you can even begin to consider that a valid argument, considering this is my office.”

You suck your teeth a moment in faux consideration, before leaning your hands forward onto the desk in a very business-like manner, “Fine. A compromise.”

A single dark brow arches upwards as he waits for elaboration.

“Agree to keep two tumblers here in your desk drawer. And we’ll alternate each week between using your boring old man glasses and my super cool rainbow ones - deal?”

Scarred lips purse ever so slightly.

“Please? It would make me happy.”

A few beats pass, before Silco admits defeat via the click of his tongue and the brief roll of his eyes.

“Very well.”

Your victorious grin is reflected back at you in the iridescent surface of the nearest tumbler.

[ink-and-dagger]

Whiskers cameo in a future dwm chapter? 🐈

Silco blocks out the incessant thump of the tuneless rubbish that blasts through the club, intent only on getting upstairs to where his bourbon and humidor awaits, along with the promise of relative peace and quiet.

He peers briefly over the balcony as he rounds it, as is becoming his habit. You’re bobbing your head along to the music as you pull a pint, completely lost in your own little world. The corner of his mouth twitches of its own accord, but he quickly intercepts.

Silco takes the first few steps up his stairwell before his brain fully registers what he’s just seen.

He pauses, before slowly backing down the stairs and casting his gaze over Vill.

The man is as expressionless as always. Still as a statue, hands folded at his front, staring dead ahead, guarding his post studiously.

The picture of hulking intimidation.

Were it not for the tiny cream and peaches head poking out from his shirt pocket. A kitten, too young to have been suitably weened from its mother. Fuzzed chin resting on the hem of the fabric, and pink nose in the air; fast asleep despite the noise of the club.

Silco raises an eyebrow, gaze flicking up to his henchman.

Vill doesn’t pull his attention away from the middle distance.

“Found her abandoned on the street, Sir. Too little to leave alone.”

Always succinct when he does bother to speak.

Silco considers the picture before him a few seconds longer, before allowing it with a small Hm.

“Don’t let Jinx see it,” is his only request, before he leaves the man alone with his pet.

[click here if you have no clue what I’m on about]

[ink-and-dagger]

Thank you for silver fox Silco fic, I love u so much 🥺🥺❤️❤️

You are so welcome my love. It was a pleasure 🦊🖤

Link for anyone who missed it 👉🏼 Silver Fox Ficlet

[ink-and-dagger]

Inky, may we please get a drabble about Astrid’s inability to behave when Silco wears his readers, I am on my knees begging 🙏🏼😖

Reading Glasses 👓

Silco x Reader || Silco x Astrid || Post DWM || Established Relationship || Silco in glasses || SFW but suggestive || wc: 800~ || AO3

Make sure you read til the end for a special surprise 😘

Water and toothpaste swirl in lazy spirals around the sink drain as you rinse out your mouth and plop your toothbrush back into the holder beside Silco’s.

Your toothbrush and Silco’s toothbrush. Just… sitting together in the same little pot.

A giddy flutter tickles behind your sternum, and you catch sight of your reflection’s lips twisting into a small, unbidden smile. You wipe your hands dry on your sleep shorts and press the cool skin of your knuckles to your flushing cheeks.

Ridiculous.

These dizzy, adolescent spells that are brought on by the simplest, most mundane of things. You swear you never got this flustered before you were together.

Well… perhaps that isn’t strictly true. But it’s completely different now. The things that flustered you back then were totally normal ‘fluster-able’ things. All the flirting and innuendos. Cigar smoke blown between mouths. Being pinned beneath his weight against the wall…

Not getting damn heart palpitations from secretly watching Silco work at his desk. Or blushing when he brings you morning coffee in bed on the days you stay over. Or getting light-headed at the shared proximity of your bloody oral hygiene implements. 

It’s embarrassing; what he does to you.

And you wouldn’t change it for anything.

You tuck your hair behind your ears and allow the full potential of your smile to blossom in time with the warmth inside your chest. After all, why shouldn’t you? Being happy is no crime. You’ve earned this peace. You both have. And if the past couple of weeks at Silco's side have taught you anything, it’s that it truly is miraculous how much more in love a person can fall when they stop fighting the pull of gravity.

Seems every day with him is a new lesson; filled with small revelations that always seem to appear when you least expect them.

You flip the bathroom light off as you open the ensuite door, “Hey Silco? Don’t you think it’s stupid that the plural for toothbrush isn’t teethbrush? 'Toothbrushes' just sounds plain wrong—”

You freeze on the threshold, lips parting with a small pop as your jaw slackens. Suddenly very hard to draw breath. Suddenly very warm beneath your nightwear.

Silco looks up at you from his relaxed position on the bed; reclined atop the covers with a single knee bent upwards and bare shoulders propped against the headboard. His rose tattoos peek above the soft dark fabric of his sleep-bottoms, and the glow from the bedside lamp not only illuminates the pages of the book he has resting upon his thigh, but also further accentuates his whip-lean physique.

It isn’t a new sight.

What is new are the reading spectacles; perched perfectly upon the bridge of his nose. Round lenses set within thin, black wire.

His natural brow arches elegantly above the frame.

“I have to admit, Darling, I don’t spend much time pondering the etymology of the word ‘toothbrush'—”

Silco’s response is cut short by the sound of fabric hitting the floor.

You step free of your shorts and underwear as you stride swiftly towards the foot of the bed, propelled by a gut-deep, primal need that wraps red-hot around your insides like a flaming whip. Silco’s sea-foam eye widens in instinctual alarm behind the round lens at the intensity and speed with which you clamber onto the bed and crawl your way up his body to straddle his hips. You snatch the book straight from his hands and fling it blindly away a split second before crashing your lips to his.

He grunts in surprise at the impact – ferocious enough to knock his glasses completely askew – but quickly matches your hunger. Large hands pawing their way up your thighs and over your hips until his arms are wrapped tightly around your waist, dragging you closer as he sits up fully. So eager that he briefly overshoots, the solid bar of his forearms the only thing keeping you from tumbling backwards onto his thighs as he folds at the hip, before righting himself and pulling you with him.

Your fingers rake and tug through Silco’s hair. Mouths locking in rough, messy kisses. Teeth clacking, tongues delving, desperately seeking more. Lips parting only out of necessity to grab the hem of your camisole and rip it off over your head, chucking it across the room as Silco reaches up to remove his glasses—

“No,” you snatch his wrist and shove him backwards, pinning his hands into the pillow either side of his head and lacing your fingers together.

Silco blinks up at you, startled and dazed behind the round, lopsided frames. Sore lips parting in stupefied silence as you press your face up close to his.

And perhaps you’re spending far too much time with the mighty Eye of Zaun – because your husky demand is snarled through bared teeth in a bestial growl.

“Keep them on.”