#gimme that soft crime family vibe goddamit

[a-gal-with-taste]

Okay but I’ve been thinking a lot about Silco working closely with someone else as like a partner in crime and fellow revolutionary in plotting to get Zaun’s independence and them falling for each other and becoming the power couple of the undercity while working to burn Piltover to the ground. If you’re talking requests I’d love to see your take on something like that 👀.

Y'all are ROCKING with these requests, so THANK. YOU! I literally have two different ideas from this one prompt, but for now, take this one and keep an eye out for another in the future 😉

Pairing: GN!Reader X Silco

Wordcount: 1.8k+

Warnings: Language, angst, hurt/comfort, blood/descriptions of injuries, dubious/dark-morals, canon-typical violence, canonical deaths mentioned/implied. (Promise it's fluffier than I'm making it sound, it ends in the softest of smoochin' while plotting out their reign of questionable-morality, I swear...)

Before you had everything. And before you began to reach for anything.

Before Jinx.

Before the empire. Before the barons before the Shimmer, before Sevika...

There was you. Holding the muzzle of your pistol to Vander's face, teeth gritting, fury pouring off you like the rains and the river that splashes around you in the torrent downpour pounding the harbor waters. You want to shake him, yell, scream, cry, sob and wail. 'How could you. How dare you.'

You don't ask any of those things. You don't even open your mouth, you don't trust your voice to let a single sound through.

You just start pulling the trigger, the click of the trigger as loud as lightning and he stumbles, nearly falling back into the river, as if shot.

But you know better, you know the sludge of this toxic waterway has clogged the bullets in the chamber; probably broken your weapon all together. That doesn't stop you from pulling the trigger, all six times, for each round, as if each bullet was perfectly aligned, and still usable, to end him.

The heartache would've been immeasurable if it had.

But not as much as what you just witnessed. And so, you don't glance back once as you turn and trudge from the waters. Benzo is charging down the dockway after you've pulled yourself onto the dock, and there's a brief betrayal in his eyes too, as you raise the weapon again when he reaches for you. He too staggers back, and you take the opening to dart around him, and run.

Vander and Benzo know you don't miss. Every bit of ammo precious, you've trained yourself not to, and everytime you line your shot, you don't intend to miss. You never pull a trigger, with an intention to waste a shot.

You leave them, then. Energy crackling through every atom, you ignore the calls, the roars for your name behind you. Musing darkly as you plunge back into the city, wondering if Vander screams your name like that, in anger, in pain, too. Or as a call for your head, now that you've chosen sides.

Now that you've picked who it'll be, who it will always be now...

"You." You murmur soothingly, and fiercely, arms tight around his. You feel the knife dig deeper into your abdomen, dangerously close to piercing skin and it's shaking at your every word. He thought you had come to finish Vander's job. He really thought you'd come to finish it. An idea that would make you laugh if everything didn't hurt as rawly as it did... "...Me and you, Sil. Me and you, okay? That's all we need, just me. Just you. We can do it, we can figure it out, together..."

You feel something hot and wet dripping onto your shoulder. The knife clatters harmlessly as his legs give out, arms now unmoving steel bands as they cling to you. You lower yourself down with him, murmuring promises, assurances and vows as broken sounds drag from his torn and strangled vocals, nearly as loud as the thunder that rages high above you.

"It's okay... we'll show them..."

-

"...we will show them all."

At that, you finally, and for the final time, turn your gaze from the remains of what was Vander, and to the little girl that clings to Silco. Those were your words, you process distantly. It doesn't even feel like a lifetime ago, you've changed so much. It feels like eons.

He doesn't move from where the girl holds him captive in her white-fisted grip. His head only slightly raises, and Silco's duel colored-gaze meets yours with a silent question, seeking confirmation. 'The sister?

You only closed your eyes. He never asked again.

Rarely making demands, only accepting whatever he felt needed to be done, and offering input when you felt it needed, he had gone quiet at your one, single demand in this entire situation. "Vander is already dead to me," You said bluntly. "He breaths, yes, and he will still be... himself during the process, but I already consiter him gone, Silco." A pause, then you reached over to him, squeezing his palm lightly as you slid his grasp in yours. "... His kids are alive."

Silco didn't blink. Didn't look up from the cracked, blood-speckled glass of the containment area. "Let me send them out of here. Out of this city. Out of our Nation of Zaun."

The grip flexes in yours. You lean even closer, whispering, "I don't want to spill the blood of Vander's children to reach our vision. We're spilling enough of it already, and that is a stain I don't want to spend my life scrubbing out." Death was not a rarity anymore. Not with what you were doing, and you'd both long-since passed the point of flinching from it. But you were doing all of this for the children, the kids, the future of Zaun.

Those who have been born, grown and died a million times in darkness, that you and he now work to show them a glimpse of the sun.

Even Vander's children. Maybe especially his... you wouldn't have gotten this far without his depravity against Silco, after all. It wasn't a perfect thank-you, but you could see how Vander would appreciate a lifetime for his children in Stillwater, over becoming unfortunate, yet soon-forgotten, collateral.

Silco turned then, finally meeting your gaze. A gaze that had seen you do terrible, terrible things to get to this point. You meet it unflichingly with your own, eyes that have seen him do horrible, horrible things.

You could drown for an eternity, just staring into those eyes.

"Make sure they never return to the Undercity again."

But there's still work to be done.

In the present, you turn, feeling the rain sting your eyes as you observe what remains of your men. There's not many. Enough, but not many. "Singed?" There's only startled, unsure glances amongst them, and you sigh, glancing at Sevika. You're used to blood, but the bile rises as you see what remains of her arm...

"...If Singed lives, tell him to get to the city-center safehouse. Keep her alive. I don't care if you have to burn what remains to keep her from bleeding out, she stays alive." If the gang fears Silco, they respect you. Whether it's a byproduct of their fear of the former, it doesn't matter. They dissipate without a word, leaving you, Silco, and the last of Vander's children alone in the wreckage of the warehouse.

You kneel beside them, soft as the rain slows from a downpour to a pattering. A gasp, and a flash of blue from behind even bluer hair that you softly rest your hand on. Her owlish gaze flashes to your right cheek, then to your eyes and you know a part of you is forever hers, in that moment. "Hey there. What's your name?"

Fresh tears well up in her eyes, pouring down a tearstained face, and a bruised cheek. "I-i... imma jinx."

You smile, and sooth your hand down the azure locks. "Jinx... It's a pretty name. Strong too. It suits you." The little girl in Silco's arms raises her head fully to stare up at you, as you smile gently at her.

She never corrects you, merely throwing an arm over to tug you closer, her head tucking in between the two of you at a fresh round of sobbing. It's not as anguished anymore.

It takes a moment, but you feel one arm slipping from the around the girl, before it reaches to wrap around your shoulder.

-

You had asked Jinx where she wanted to go. She said home, and after a brief, silent look at Silco, he'd nodded once.

The Last Drop still reeked of Vander, but, for the first time in years, it was welcomed. Possibly because it was already a fleeting sensation, as the ghost of your old friend was already fading, but the bar had it's benefits. It finally put the little girl in your arms to rest, which was much needed as the rest of the gang came tumbling in shortly after, setting-up shop with equipment and smuggled-supplies from the safehouse. And barricading the door as soon as Singed finally stumbled in.

"She lives." You parroted the order firmly as you observed the mostly lucid, though partially stumbling scientist, who had the worse of his injuries hidden under a hastily-grabbed scarf. You are fairly certain that the fabric wasn't stained red, and particular shades of violet, before the destruction of the warehouse, but the man is still moving and able to work, so you turn away from the makeshift surgery-table the barcounter has become, to Silco.

Gods. You both look like death.

The hand wrapping around your wrist is silent after a moment of staring, and after gesturing the rest of your men to keep at it, get stationed here at The Last Drop, the two of you silently withdraw.

Feet somehow carrying both you and him up the stairs without falling over, you're soon sitting upright as Silco returns with the small aid-kit he'd located, sitting beside you on the bed. The four deep gashes in your right cheek have stopped bleeding, most of the caked blood having been washed away in the rain.

"Parting gift from Van," You comment quietly as his calm hand smoothly slides the wet rag across your ravaged skin. You don't need to ask, you know you're carry these claw-marks for the rest of your life. "... I get the feeling he was annoyed at the bullets." You pause, eyes flitting close as he starts working gauze over it.

The kit is put away. As soon as he returns to sitting beside you, on the edge of the bed of your now-dead friend, you let out a small sigh. Leaning back, you bounce slightly on the huge mattress and stare up at the ceiling for several long, silent beats. This deep in the undercity, the dying rain is barely heard outside the window, peering out into the dimly lit neon streets.

A flick of a lighter, and you close your eyes as the smell of smoke he's gotten used to reaches your nose. The bed dips a bit as he joins you.

You give him a moment, then silently open your mouth. After another exhale, you feel the press of the cigar at the tip of your tongue. You bite down on the dents his teeth have already imprinted into stick, and take a deep, shaking inhale to fill your lungs with the spice.

"... we have so much work to do in the morning." You murmur after a few rounds of that, cracking open your eyes as you hear his rasping breathes, labored with the bruises on his neck, and the smoke he's halfway-chugging. "We have... so, so much to work back. But we did it once, with even less likely odds. We'll be experts at this by the time we're done..."

Silco doesn't say a word. You see the ring of smoke pool into the air, and fall apart before it makes it halfway to the ceiling.

"... Heh. I thought you were the monologue-one, why are you letting me do all the talking...?" There's a warm touch at your bandaged cheek, and he silently turns your face towards him. The green eye is exhausted while the other looks at you with fire, hotter than the ones at the ruins of the warehouse, but the touch of his lips is the softest thing you've ever felt in your life.

It's chaste, but long. Innocent, but saying a million and one things.

It's the first, and after everything, you aren't surprised in the slightest. You still ask, though. Why. Why now.

"... I didn't think we would do it." The admittance is something he trusts you with, and you alone. "You doubted?" "No, never. I've trusted your abilities for much, much longer than I've trusted anyone before."

"... but you still had doubts." You point out quietly, and Silco closes his mortal-eye, so still you think he's fallen asleep. "I thought we would die before we saw a glimpse of our vision. Before we saw our efforts finally begin to step into the light." Again, another confessional he never wants to have out in the open. Another sin only the two of would you ever dare share to one another; uncertainty. "You really think I'd stand by and watch Vander kill you a second time?"

A small huff of air at his lips, where the spice is the strongest, and you can't help it. Leaning closer, once again the closest thing to innocent you know anymore, you press a kiss to the corner of his mouth. "... No." He murmurs, and you feel his mouth move against your touch. "But I didn't expect to get this... this close. Not in our lifetime."

"But we did."

"Yes. We did."

Turning on your side to face him proper, you feel his hand sliding up, lazily drifting into your hair. His hums in tandem with your arm sliding over to lay across his waist, you lifting your head slightly to rest your forehead to his.

"... we lost so much shit today." "That... that we did."

A beat. Then you find each other, and it takes a while for you both to find words again as you become lost. It never goes beyond the ridiculously decorus carting though hair, or the hilariously, ironically, innocent hands smoothing over clothes, unable to pull away even if recently-dead, very irate ghosts bursted into the room to try.

You hope, for Silco's case, he doesn't share the same sentiment. But this moment feels like drowning.

Drowning in the thickest, warmest of waters as you trace fingers over scars. Inhaling every extended breath that brushes against your skin. Suffocating, on the long presses of lips along your jaw, chin, finally trailing over your lips in a way that makes you never want to resurface.

Again, you hope Silco is looking at this a different way.

"... are you okay?" You murmur between breathes, and again go under the waves as a ragged chuckle sounds from throat, vibrating softly along your skin as he firmly presses just above your bandaged cheek. His admittance as casual as possible, for a man who just ended his brother. "Never."

As the one who helped him do it, whose helped him do all of this, you can only smile, whispering just as hoarsely, brokenly, "Me neither."

He reels you back to floating beneath the surface with a hand though your hair, the other coming to hold you under as he runs fingers along the parts of your face where his mouth isn't touching.

"Tomorrow... we're gonna get up, and we're going to own this town," You breathe as his lips pass over yours. Strands of his hair brush your forehead as he nods, thumb caressing your cheek as he moves down to worship your jawline as he agrees, "Begin reassembling the market... grow our influence. Get some power-hungry fools under our thumb. Enforcers are going to be scared witless, need to... gather our forces together before they come sniffing back around."

"We'll need to reach out to the mines again..." The little, open-mouth rasp that leaves him as you run both hands through his still rain-soaked hair, is going to be the death of you, you decide. You repeat the motion, just to die a second time. "... shimmer production. Get it back up to speed, find a new warehouse..."

"... the girl. She stays." It's not a question, even if he sounds unsure. Your lips press a little firmer on his nose, in agreement, and in understanding. "She stays."

"We stay here." "You want to bartend?" "Gods no. But it'll bring in morale."

A hum, as he grows tired, physically and in terms of the eternity you two are sharing, as his lips press a bit firmer against yours as your bodies get ever closer, ever more wanting, needing of the other.

You and him. Him and you. Just like you said, all those years ago, when the words became fact in the wake of betrayal. Speaking of... "You owe me so, so much, for waiting until now." Silco huffs against your lips, pulling back to show the amusement in his eye as noses brush against each other. "Am I not making up for it now?"

"Not even close enough yet."

"I'm sorry." The teasing brush against your mouth shows he's anything but. "I wanted to have this moment, when we have it all. And now we do, it's within our grasp... we only now need to reach." And so were you, goes unsaid as his arm squeezes minutely at your waist, and you can't fault him terribly for waiting.

What better triumph is there, after taking it all for yourself, before taking the one that stood beside you through it all?

It's something you can relate to.

Your hands slide from his hair to hold his face, leaning back far enough to gaze over the face of the man you have given up everything for, that you have done unspeakable things for, that you have betrayed for. That you have stood beside, from the moment you saw him thrust under the waves of a river at his brothers hand, to right here, right now.

"Tomorrow," You murmur softly, watching Silco's eye take every syllable through your lips as gospel. "Tomorrow, we rebuild. And then we reach. And then we show these people our vision... our dream. The nation of Zaun." Those arms move up, and you already feel sleep filter into your mind as he presses you to his chest, snug, and not going anywhere.

"And after?"

You smile, closing your eyes to that perfect, perfect vision you share with Silco, and lean forward. Dipping back beneath waves, which taste faintly of a smoke similar on your own tongue. "And after that... we give back everything they dealt us. And bring Piltover to their fucking knees."

"Me and you."

"You and me. We'll show them..."

A forehead against yours; the blazing eye of Zaun embedded in your gaze as, though you don't know it this far underground, the sun is rising. The first day of Zaun has begun, as you lay there...

"We will show them all."

Together.