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sstardow · 2 months ago

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A Study of the Arcane [Arcane Hogwarts AU] Chapter 3

Summary: Jinx and Vi reunite. Viktor and Jayce work on a new type of magic, and Caitlyn runs into a new student.

Jinx sat cross-legged on her green dorm bed, surrounded by the usual hustle and bustle of the Slytherin dormitory. It was louder than normal, likely due to the influx of new students excited about their first day of classes. Hopping out of bed, Jinx prepared for the day ahead. Her hair was a tangled mess from sleeping on her braids, but she couldn't be bothered to redo them today. Instead, she simply fixed the strands framing her face and deemed it good enough.

Afterward, she slipped into her new green robes. Looking in the mirror, she noticed how different she appeared in the robes. They were much nicer than most of the clothes she had access to in the undercity.

Jinx wandered around the Slytherin dormitory while she waited for classes to start. The atmosphere oddly reminded her of Silco's study back in the Last Drop, with its dark greens, greys, and silvers. The decor had a moody yet regal feel to it, which made it no surprise that Silco was the head of Slytherin House. Jinx knew she would most likely run into him soon.

Vi paced around the Gryffindor dormitory, deep in thought. "Should I go look for her before class?" she asked Ekko, spinning on her heel.

"Honestly, Vi, I'm not sure," Ekko replied with a shrug. "I don't think there will ever be a perfect time to do it. You just have to hope for the best. Do you want me to come with you?"

"No... No. This is something I should do alone. But thanks," Vi said as she grabbed her robe and draped it over her shoulders.

"By the way, Ekko, make sure to pay attention in flying class today. I think you'd make a great addition to the Quidditch team when you're ready," Vi added as she walked toward the exit.

"Thanks, Captain," Ekko joked back with a smile.

Vi entered the long Hogwarts hallways. She went downstairs as fast as she could to around where the Slytherin dorms were. She hoped to catch Jinx before classes started.

Jinx left the dorms, bored with exploring. She wandered through the lower hallways and made her way up the staircases to the main floor of the school. Near the courtyard, she spotted her—the pink-haired girl who looked a little too healthy. A bitter taste filled Jinx's mouth as she laid eyes on Vi.

"Powder!" Vi exclaimed, losing her composure at the sight of Jinx. She reached out to hug her, but Jinx swiftly dodged the embrace.

"Powder..." Vi repeated with a sad expression on her face. Jinx furrowed her brows at Vi.

"Sorry, sister. I'm not really in a hugging mood right now," she replied sharply.

"Powder, I am so sorry. I don't know where to start—" Vi began, but Jinx cut her off.

"Start with why you left me," Jinx said flatly. Vi flinched at the words.

"I know I walked away from you in that forest. I shouldn't have; I was just so angry. But I promise I looked for you. I never stopped looking for you, Powpow." Vi pleaded.

Jinx simply laughed in response. "Enough with the 'Powder this' and 'blablablah'," Jinx said, making a mouth gesture with her hand. "And, It's Jinx now..." Jinx said awkwardly.

"Jinx? Is this cause of Silco? Cause I swear he had something to do with-" Vi was cut off sharply.

"Silco wasn't the one who made Jinx. You did that." Jinx snapped at Vi. She turned her nose away from Vi, getting ready to walk away but Vi blocked her path.

"Please, Please just hear me out," Vi begged. Jinx stood still, head turned down. "When I lost Vander, and then you... I had no clue what I'd do with myself. There has not been a moment I didn't regret that night. Every minute since then I've wished I could turn time back." Vi explained, extending a hand to place on Jinx's shoulder.

The sound of shoes clicking echoed behind Vi. Jinx turned to see who it was. "I hope you both start heading to your classes soon. You don't want to be late," Professor Silco said, his voice slicing through the air.

Vi grimaced, her eyes pleading as she looked at Jinx. Jinx's gaze was cold and calculated, but for a brief moment, Vi could have sworn she saw Powder in her eyes—a look that signaled she didn't want to leave, not yet. But it was gone in a brief flash. Jinx turned away from Vi, eyes meeting Silco's. And walked off without another word toward her class.

In another part of the school, Jayce was in the Ravenclaw dorm. He grabbed his coat from the rack and quickly put it on as he sprinted out the door. As he hurried down the winding staircase of the Astronomy Tower, he reached the bottom and saw Viktor leaning against a wall.

"Took you long enough," Viktor said, pushing himself off the wall with his cane for support.

"You're up early," Jayce remarked as he walked alongside him toward Heimerdinger's office.

"Unfortunately, humans are not equally equipped to navigate stairs this steep, so I made sure to get down here a little early. " Viktor replied.

Jayce managed a slightly awkward smile. He knew Viktor was joking, but there was truth in the struggles Viktor faced. Jayce couldn’t deny it made him feel a bit frustrated that Viktor had to go through it. "You'd think that for the 'most prestigious school of witchcraft and wizardry,' they'd be a little more accessible," Jayce commented.

Viktor shrugged. "You'd think." he agreed.

The two men arrived at the door to Heimerdinger's private study. It was the room they'd been secretly working in for the past few months. The only people who knew about their work were themselves, Caitlyn, and Heimerdinger himself.

Viktor rummaged for the key which was in his pocket, pulling out the golden key he fit it in the lock and twisted it. Jayce's arm pushed the door open and they both walked inside.

Caitlyn walked the halls of Hogwarts with an elegant speed. She was on her way to her History of Magic class. She decided to get there a little early so she could knock out some of today's homework. As she strutted she noticed something weird. A pink and a blue-haired girl were talking, and the conversation sounded a little emotional. "I know I walked away from you in that forest. I shouldn't have; I was just so angry. But I promise I looked for you. I never stopped looking for you, Powpow." Vi pleaded to Jinx. "It's Jinx now." Jinx snapped.

Caitlyn remained silent, aware that this conversation was meant to be private. She retreated to a corner and pressed her back against the wall as she listened intently. She might have felt guilty for eavesdropping if she hadn’t heard the girl reveal her name: Jinx. It was the same name mentioned by the gossipers the day before, the girl who was supposedly responsible for blowing up a building.

The sound of clicking shoes echoed behind the girl with pink hair. Jinx turned to see who it was. "I hope you both start heading to your classes soon. You don't want to be late," Professor Silco said, his voice cutting through the air. Caitlyn's mouth formed a thin line. From this encounter and the rumors she had heard last night, she deduced that Silco and Jinx must have some kind of relationship. Nothing good could come from it. Silco had a reputation as a ruthless professor, and Caitlyn was shocked he would tolerate a student with a track record like Jinx's.

Caitlyn heard no other words, just the shuffling of feet going in different directions. Peeking her head around the corner, she saw they had left, and continued on her walk to class. Still pondering what was really going on.

As Caitlyn passed the spot where Jinx and the pink-haired girl were talking, her heart skipped a beat when a girl in a green robe suddenly appeared around the corner. "Isn't it curious that a student like Jinx was allowed into Hogwarts?" she said. Caitlyn's breath caught in her throat as she looked at the girl: she had dark skin, a striking face, golden makeup, and her hair was styled in an intricate bun.

"Mel Medarda. A pleasure to meet you," the girl introduced herself, extending her hand for Caitlyn to shake.

"Caitlyn Kiramman," Caitlyn replied as she shook Mel's hand. "So, you also know about Jinx's alleged past?" Caitlyn asked, trying to confirm her suspicions.

"Let’s just say it’s not just an allegation. I happened to see it," Mel said, looking intently at Caitlyn.

"See it?" Caitlyn echoed, her curiosity piqued.

"It wasn't just any building that she blew up. It belonged to one of the council members. Fortunately, it was only a holiday home. But I doubt Jinx knew that," Mel explained.

"But wouldn’t that be considered attempted murder? How is she not in Stillwater right now?" Caitlyn questioned.

"Her father is an important figure in the undercity. He managed to convince the judge that it was an accident caused by one of her inventions. Quite the stretch, isn’t it?" Mel elaborated. "Didn't look like an accident to me though." She added.

"Mel Medarda... Wait, you're that Medarda?" Caitlyn asked, her realization dawning. Her mother, Cassandra, had made her study other wizarding schools, and she remembered that Ambessa Medarda was the headmaster of Durmstrang.

"That would be the name, yes. I presume you know my mother?" Mel replied.

"Yes, well, I suppose I more know of her," Caitlyn said. "You must be a transfer student, then? I don't recall seeing you here before." She studied Mel's face closely.

"I am. With the Triwizard Competition approaching, wizarding schools tend to see more transfers," Mel explained.

"Fascinating! Though I must admit, I'm surprised you chose to come to Hogwarts, given your mother being headmaster and all. You're brave," Caitlyn admitted, feeling a tinge of envy. Sometimes, she wished she had chosen to transfer too, but she stayed because of her mother.

The two of them approached Heimerdinger's office. "Isn't that the Talis boy?" Mel asked, her eyes focused on him.

"Um, yes it is. Do you know Jayce?" Caitlyn replied, glancing between Mel and Jayce, who was currently unlocking a door.

"I know of him," Mel said, playfully mimicking Caitlyn's earlier words, which earned a small chuckle from Caitlyn.

"I heard through the grapevine that he’s one of the smartest students here," Mel continued. "He's pretty cute too," she added with a smile.

Caitlyn chuckled awkwardly. "Jayce and Viktor are among the smartest here. They're quite impressive," she said, trying to hide her jealousy. She felt overlooked, as Mel acknowledged they were top students but not that herself was too.

"Isn’t that the headmaster’s office? Why are they unlocking it?” Mel asked, taking a few steps forward. Caitlyn froze, unsure whether to yell at Jayce to stop opening the door or to quickly grab Mel. But Jayce, oblivious to the girl approaching behind him, swung the door open. Mel peered out from behind Jayce and Viktor, her eyes landing right on the hexcore in the center of the room.

Oh shit, Caitlyn thought.

#arcane hogwarts au #arcane #arcane fanfic #caitlyn arcane #hogwarts au #caitvi #jayvik #timebomb #vi arcane #viktor arcane

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badpersonboogie · 14 days ago

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arranged marriage au? ok

a noble child of piltover, a son of house talis, is set to marry someone from zaun. he's expecting one of the hound's daughters but instead they offer their herald. the saint of the lost, of companionship and devotion, of healing and bringer of yellow flowers.

when the herald arrives in piltover to walk to the altar, he doesn't look human. so tall with seemingly metal skin and a mask from a split in his face. but then he changes form into a man with long brown hair and golden eyes. jayce is struck speechless, why is this being so beautiful in both forms?

(silco wanted the wedding to be held in zaun, to show the houses of piltover what zaun has and maybe even to make the groom wear zaunian green. but viktor suggested the wedding be held in piltover instead. the same outcome but in the sunlight. silco is delighted and agrees)

#jayvik #arcane #my aus

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lbulldesigns · 8 months ago

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JinxTheLooseCannon: I wouldn't mind being front and center, but being the scary, unknown thing in the dark is a lot more fun at the moment.

JinxTheLooseCannon: I have a few more audio files for you, but think this one from the late king might be more tasty.

jarvaniii_mageseekers.audio

TWINKletoes: Oh, this is going to be awkward for J4.

JinxTheLooseCannon: I also have these for you.

mageseekerbribes.pdf

TWINKletoes: Do you think this would be enough to force the royal family to ease up or stop what they're doing altogether? Beacuse if so, we should be sending this out.

JinxTheLooseCannon: My uncle knows what he's doing.

JinxTheLooseCannon: Let's worry about meeting up first. I'm done re-disguising myself and have done what I can to disguise the little Embre Cub. I've changed my eyes to green, and my hair is now a platinum blonde done up in a high ponytail. I'll be carrying Embre Cub in my arms, she'll be wearing a dark blue coat, her head will be covered by a hood and she'll be pretending to sleep. I'm also going to be wearing my earpiece, the one that looks like a hearing aid, I'll pretend to be deaf so that people won't question me (hopefully) when you see us just text me, and the text will be read out to me through the earpiece. I estimate that the two of us should be at the emergency meet-up in about 10 minutes, I'm setting up various Mockingjays throughout the tunnels, they'll be blasting Tibber's roar and hopefully confuse the search parties out looking for us long enough for us to sneak past.

JinxTheLooseCannon: Embre Cub's name is Annie Hastur and her teddy's name is Tibbers, they're from Noxius. I think Tibbers might actually be a demon, which is pretty rad.

JinxTheLooseCannon: Uncle Silco, I have to bring the little girl with me to Zaun. Her parents are gone and I have reason to believe that her stepmother sent her to Demacia knowing that she's a mage. And for obvious reasons, I cannot leave her here.

JinxTheLooseCannon: When we get to the safe house, I'll download everything that I've collected so far from the Mageseekers database. I don't know how long Diggy (the virus in the Mageseekers database) will be operational after we leave Demacia, but I receive all files found automatically anyway so hopefully we'll have more information as we sail away from here.

JinxTheLooseCannon: How's Flashlight doing?

JinxTheLooseCannon: Ez?

JinxTheLoosecannon: EZ?! OMG ARE YOU GUYS IN A PRIVATE CHAT RIGHT NOW?!?!?

TWINKletoes: Sorry, sorry. Lux is doing okay, she saw he brother and thought he was going to approach us. She panicked and made herself throw up, which surprisingly made her brother back up, but we had to quickly come up with a reason why she threw up and I may or may not have said that she had morning sickness. On one hand, that reason got us a gaggle of old ladies as human shields, on the other hand, Lux is really not impressed T.T

JinxTheLooseCannon:

JinxTheLooseCannon: Okie Dokie, meet up with you soon. Just try not to marry her until we are officially divorced okay. BYE UNCLE SILCO TALK TO YOU SOON LOVE YOU <3 <3 <3 XOXO

JinxTheLooseCannon has left the chat.

[Pivate chat between TWINKletoes and The_Eye_Of_Zaun]

TWINKletoes: With all due respect sir. I am capable enough to provide for myself, that selling out anyone let alone my best friend is unnecessary.

[Jinx drops the bombshell that she and Ezreal are technically married]

TWINKletoes: ...

TWINKletoes: I can explain....

Text message between Jinx and Silco (PART 2, right after BREAKING NEWS: NOXIAN ATTACK WITHIN DEMACIA!)

This is an interactive fanfiction. Nobody else responds, except @lullabyes22-blog who is playing Silco.

JinxTheLooseCannon: EPEPEPEPEPEPEPEPEPEPEPEPEP!!!!

#silco #jinx #ezreal #AITAH Arcane AU #deep breaths Silco DEEP BREATHS!!!#Just Jinx casually adopting a child and then equally casually announcing her divorce #poor Ezreal #Annie Hastur #Luxanne Crownsguard

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aidemint · 3 years ago

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Eclipse, A Faithful Pass | Like Real People Do: Part 3 | Silco

part one | part two | part three

summary: yearning bleeds into reality. light and darkness finally meet, and destiny is fulfilled.

word count: 5.7k+

pairing: Silco/GN!Reader, Silco x GN!Reader

warnings: canon-level violence

notes: the final part to the soulmate au i’ve toiled for months on! our dearest reader and silco finally meet, and everything unfolds. i hope you enjoy :)

dedicated to the lovely @chickenparm , @simpfiles , and @arcanescribbles because jesus fucking christ have you seen their silco works???

“Jericho, I’m really starting to think that you don’t have my best interests in mind.”

The roll of gauze in your left hand is nearly emptied when you look up at the chef with a raised brow. Rows of blisters dot your right hand, scorched into existence by an untimely grab at the side of a pan. The chef on your left chortles, voice muddled as he gargles his response.

“What do you mean ‘I do, sometimes?’ It’s supposed to be all the time!” you fume, ripping off a small piece of packaging tape and sticking it to the end of the gauze ribbon, “Don’t I do all the hard work for ya? I thought my efforts would be appreciated a little bit more.” Jericho grumbles a compromise and you ease a bit, interest piqued.

“Okay, but you’re paying.” He garbles his agreement, and you’re soon back on your feet, chopping vegetables for the next customer at the stand. Muffled chatter plays in the background as the stove burns, alive with fire and oil, grilling cubed onions to top off a fried dish. Over the roar of the flames, you happen to overhear a conversation between two people sitting closest to you.

“Did you hear about what happened during the shimmer raid this afternoon?” one figure mumbles with a mouthful of kebab, “Fuckin’ green bugs burned everything that was goin’ on a shipment ‘cross the river.” His friend looks nervous, poking the end of his skewer against the counter.

“You think the boss’s gonna be mad?” The man beside him shoots him a look, brows raised in disbelief, lips parted enough so that bites of unswallowed meat fall out between them. You look away, wincing at the saliva-covered particles.

“Entire shipment of cargo got trashed.” He scoops up the fallen bits and shoves them back into his mouth. “What do you goddamn think?” A shrug comes as a response.

“Dunno. I ain’t really met the guy yet, but I heard his daughter was kinda looney, maybe he’s the same.” You hear the other customer scoff while biting off the last of his meat-on-a-stick.

“You right about the kid, girl’s a fuckin’ lunatic.” He sighs, setting his foodless kebab on an empty plate. “But Silco ain’t gonna be happy ‘bout the yield, that’s for sure.”

Silco.

Mindlessly piling the caramelized onions onto a plate of messily battered fish and assorted slaw, you test the way his name rolls off your tongue, mouthing the syllables. You ring the bell at the front, slide the dish in hand to its customer, then check the next ticket with him still on your mind.

You’d only heard rumors about him, much like this one, never having seen the man with your own eye before. It seems that, with the amount of suspicions and gossip floating around the undercity, even the Lanes, you’re not alone in this. But from what you’ve gathered, working on the main street, he’s lanky, semi-proportioned with a tall nose and thin lips, and charming when he needs to be.

Others say that his most defining feature is his left eye—an eclipse-like iris surrounded by the blackness of space, unblinking. Petrifying. Enchanting. Terrifying.

Some say that all it takes is one look at it and you’re dead—it’s a grossly exaggerated story, but you laugh at the idea of a skinny man with snakes for hair, in accordance with an old Ionian legend.

Zaunian society has different opinions of him, regarding his leadership and means of assuming it, but it collectively recognizes him as the Kingpin. His title is power and prestige recognized into a position that allows for him to control the masses despite not housing the physical capacity to bend the city to his will.

Tiana’s voice rings inside your head when you’re tossing a batch of minced tentacles in sauce with furrowed eyebrows.

Hatred isn’t the right word.

It’s more like fear. Fear or admiration, often a mix of both. It’s his tenacity and striking perseverance in the face of seemingly unconquerable feats, his dream of Zaun, his ambitions to guide his people to independence that brings about submission.

There’s the shimmer, too. You watch a puff of purple come out from the mouth of one of the diners and cringe at how it sparkles.

Shimmer runs rampant in the underground and you know that everything leads back to him. All rivers of communication, all dealings, all markets.

The thought instills a bit of apprehension within your bones, but also a shred of hope—because if there’s anyone that knows anything about who your soulmate is, you suspect that it’s Silco, given his reach.

Your gaze flits over to the neon green eye at the end of the street.

The thought of being so close to an answer sends chills down your spine.

“Graghogarpogoh pgroda!” Jericho’s gruff shout yanks you from your fantasies and puts your mind and body back behind the stall. He shoves your shoulder and gives you a disapproving look after he stares at an unfinished ticket hanging in front of you. “Gangomo, donokha.”

“Yeah, yeah, I gotcha big man,” you grumble, getting to work on the last of the dishes before the final bunch of customers flock in, “Just a little lost in my head.”

The rest of your shift is spent cooking wordlessly, spare the few exchanges you have with Jericho, who wonders what you were thinking about.

When you’re at the back, scraping gunk off of dishes, he moves closer to you and gibbers quietly, a small question. You smile softly and scrub harder at the plate in your hand.

“I’ll tell ya later, I promise. It’s about that soulmate stuff again.” He groans and does what you think is an eye roll, which you chuckle at. “Look, I just think I got a lead. That’s it.” His tone is somewhere in between sarcastic and disbelieving when he mumbles a response and gets back to tending to the grill.

Soon, once the last of the food is served and the customers leave, the fire is shut off and everything’s packaged and placed where it needs to be. Jericho takes his wooden arm board off, putting it on a stand, hanging his apron on a knife’s handle before taking yours when you gratefully place it in his open hand.

“Where do you wanna go tonight?” you ask, staring at the man in front of you, “We got a lot of time on our hands, so.” Jericho thinks for a moment, fingers scratching the top of his parted lips spread over pointed teeth. A few names come and go in mumbles until he mentions one that livens your eyes.

“Grigandho domokoyee gahgraboragah?” A word of confirmation. You nod.

“That sounds great.” Jericho’s grin gets just a little wider when he beckons you to follow him.

“It’s like I know the answer is staring me in the face, I know it.” You down the rest of your whiskey with a groan, wincing at how the alcohol burns the fine lining of your throat. “I don’t know why I haven’t fucking found them yet. I really don’t. I haven’t seen anyone with this damn scar in my entire life.”

Jericho offers a gurgle of pity, a large hand patting your shoulder. You sigh, appreciating the sentiment but too tipsy and frustrated to really make sense of it.

“I know I’ll find them eventually, but just— after all this time I just want an answer. Something to go off of so I don’t drive myself off the fucking edge.” You pause, biting the inside of your cheek. “Maybe I can find some help elsewhere.” The man beside you makes a startled noise, yellow eyes widening when he garbles in protest. You laugh at his alarm, punching his shoulder playfully.

“I’m not going to leave you Jericho, so don’t worry—not done repaying you for everything you’ve done for me just yet.” He shudders in relief, shoulders untensing enough to allow him three shots, which he throws back with ease.

“Gorbhajagomgrahkgograhgagpago. Pego.” The chef raises two fingers after he wipes his mouth and walks them along the countertop until they stop at your empty glass. “Braheo, drejogahagoeugaega. Gra, gro, gra.” A giggle erupts from your throat when Jericho taps on the cup with a nail to mimic knocking.

“It can’t be that easy.” You turn to face him, laughter dying down when he shows no sign of joking. “Can it?” He only shrugs in response, a half-hearted you decide coming from him before he orders another round for the both of you.

“Wait but if you know so much why didn’t you tell me until now?” you say when Jericho receives his rum and slides you a Bloody Mary, “I’ve already opened up about this whole soulmate biz, you coulda at least given me some tips.” The man beside you babbles a reply, tipping his glass in your direction. You think you can detect sass in his voice, but it’s quickly covered up by the bubbling of alcohol.

“I mean— Okay, yeah. You know what? That’s fair.” A sigh leaves your lips. “But do you really think I can just waltz in there? Without… ever having been to the Last Drop before? Knock on his door like that?” Jericho mumbles something and you stare reluctantly at him.

“You sure? You’ve seen people turn out good?” He gurgles something else to combat your hesitancy, and you finally cave. “Never hurts to try, I guess.” Sipping somewhat bitterly at your Bloody Mary, your eyebrows furrow at the thought.

Jericho doesn’t leave much time for brooding, as he smiles and gives you a pat on the back, a sign of reassurance, then a hum after your submission. You’re slow to grin back but do it anyhow, appreciation illuminating your bright irises.

“Thanks, Jerry.”

You think that the air stings your lungs a bit more when you take in a sharp breath as you draw nearer to the Last Drop. It bites your insides, acidic yet addictive, reminiscent of Zaun but different enough to remind you that you’re in new territory. It’s a warning.

But you continue to move, breaths coming steadily, chest rising and falling with each.

Clenching your hand around a sack of coins in your fist, your fingers tighten around the drawstring as you march forwards, gaze pinned on a heavy-set man guarding the entrance. He’s supposed to look unapproachable, intimidating, dangerous to dissuade any wayward wanderer, but after so many years of working with Jericho, you think that your definition of “scary” has shifted a bit.

You tilt the tip of your raised hood upwards and adjust your jacket to a more open position.

When you’re at the front, you’re met with a smirk and a look up and down, no words exchanged. The bouncer’s eyes are all you need to see to know that you’re not welcome.

“Whaddya want?” he grunts, “Got the wrong address or somethin’?” You shoot him a glare.

“I have business with Silco.”

“I don’t remember the boss needin’ ta meet with a street food vendor.”

“Well now I know you’re not just fucked in the face, your head’s a problem too.” Your voice is icy, sharp and demanding. “Let me in.” The doorman scoffs, lips twisting into a sneer at your insistence.

“Fucked in the head, huh?” he growls, stepping towards you, “I’ll fuck up your head real soon if you keep that up.”

You roll your eye at his tone, bringing up the pouch of coins clutched in your hand to hover it above his.

“Maybe this will suffice as necessary persuasion.” You press the medium-sized sack of gold into his palm as gently as possible, the satchel clicking when you set it in his grip. “It seems to do wonders universally.”

The doorman looks incredulous, words suddenly stuck in his throat, unable to get through a thickened lumen. You try to not enjoy the way his eyes bug out in disbelief, but you bite the inside of your cheek to suppress a smile when your gaze settles on his loose jaw and flared nostrils.

He glances at the sack hesitantly as if to reason with himself on whether or not accepting the bribe is okay. Pausing for a moment, he flits his eyes upwards to regard you with detestation, forcing as much of it as possible into a single glance, but eventually relents and allows you access to the room behind him with the grumble. When you walk by, he gives you a small card—a pass, of sorts. A green eye stares upward at you from the piece of cardstock and you tilt your head at the odd piece of imagery.

The Eye of Zaun. How ironic.

You keep your stare trained on it as you walk through the mob, a hand covering your mouth in an attempt to inhale the least amount of secondhand shimmer possible. Creeping through the main lounge, you eventually emerge into a subsection of the club, a small, concrete pavilion of sorts with a rickety table set up in the middle. There, two men groan and throw their cards down on the surface, cursing as a woman smirks in front of them.

“Bad luck, boys.”

She matches the description that Jericho gave you—tall, dark-skinned, bulky, hair half-up, half-down, a purple cloth draped over her left arm—and you can only hope that she knows a way to Silco. As you step into the yard, you feel several pairs of eyes bearing deep holes into your figure, laser-precise and trained on the part of your hood you keep lowered.

“Sevika?”

“Who’s asking?” Her voice is gruff, indicative of the irritation lining the edges of her irises.

“Someone that wants to speak to you,” you respond calmly, turning to the two men accompanying her, “Alone.”

The three of them exchange looks before the other two gather what’s left of their meager winnings, and exit the room. Their jeering expressions point back at you for a moment, just before they disappear into the raging horde inside the Last Drop.

“Guessing you didn’t come here to fight.” Sevika’s still sat in her chair, clicking a cigar back to life with a metal lighter. You smile, but it doesn’t reach your eye.

“You’re stating the obvious here.” She scoffs at the comment, taking a drag before replying.

“We don’t give shimmer handouts.”

“That’s not what I want. I need help to find somebody.” Her brow raises, face maintaining an unamused expression.

“You got the wrong place if you’re looking for a detective,” she grumbles, a puff of smoke blowing past her lips, “The undercity might be an enterprise, but it’s not the kind you're looking for.”

“I’m not asking you to hunt down a person.”

“Stop with the details and just get to the point,” she groans, “I know a damn person asking for a handout when I see one. You’re wasting my time.” Your eyes narrow, semi-slitted, as you raise a hand to clutch the thin fabric of your jacket, patience wearing thin.

“I just was wondering if you’ve ever seen someone that looks like me.”

Nimble fingers pull off your hood to showcase your scar, raw and untouched. You look at her, head tilted downwards, and you watch her eyes widen. After a brief glance at your hands and arms and a little time to think, Sevika blinks a few times, processing your request with something new in mind. Your appearance seems to have struck something—a personal memory, perhaps.

“I’m not guaranteeing anything,” she says slowly after a period of thought, “So don’t get your hopes up.” At least it sounds like an agreement, so you nod in understanding and follow her after she gets up with a grunt.

The two of you swiftly thread through the mob, spare a few malice-laced glances that slow your step. However, they’re quick to depart, wiped from certain faces just as fast as they came, ultimately shut down by a glare from Sevika. Though you find it weird as to what prompted her sudden attitude change, you don’t question it, as you’re soon ascending a flight of stairs to an overhead lounging area—a place built to emulate an apartment, but doubles as a headquarters of some sort.

Staring at the worn floor, you notice how the wood creaks with every step, the smell of dust and old air rising instead of fog clogged by thickened shimmer. It’s oddly refreshing (as refreshing as the undercity can be, anyways).

“You’re only getting one chance.” Sevika comes to a stop at the wooden door at the end of the hallway. “Nothing else I can do if it doesn’t work out.”

“That’s alright,” you reply, “Thank you.” She tears her gaze away from you with a sigh, eyebrows arched when she turns to knock at the door.

The silence is meant to be a quiet, wordless existence in the presence of tension, but the world fills with the sound of rushing blood as it blows past your ears, heart rapidly thundering in your chest. It crashes against your ribcage with heavy thuds, the pace elevating as it continues to pulse faster. The quietness gives way to an opportunity to properly process all that has happened.

You’re overwhelmed, an influx of feeling, sensation, building up until you feel like you might burst—is it excitement, anger, or anxiety? It seizes you, swinging your consciousness into an ever-growing loop that pulls you in for more.

It persists until someone on the other side speaks a phrase that grants Sevika permission to enter.

“Come in.”

The voice is masculine, muffled enough so you can’t really tell who it is, but you hope that it’s the person you’re looking for. Sevika doesn’t regard you when she goes in and you think nothing of it at first. Coming in without a bribe was a fuckup, plain and simple, but when you look at her, you notice that her eyes are averted almost forcibly—as if she doesn’t want to look at you.

“Someone’s asking for you.” The door shuts behind her, muting the last half of her sentence, and you frown.

You can listen to her steps echo, the sound growing fainter and fainter. When she’s far enough away, you press your ear against the door, hoping to listen in on the conversation.

A small scuffling inside acts like radio static, messy and unclear, but you’re able to tune in without a problem seconds later.

“Get to the point.” You freeze, breath hitching, tongue suddenly caught in your throat.

It’s a voice—his voice. Commanding, clear, with a powerful presence that cuts through the air without difficulty. The pads of your fingers push further against the wood of the door in anxiety.

Sevika’s next comment is muffled due to a loud clunk coming from somewhere in the vents, but the conversation resumes fine without it.

“Where are they now?”

“Waiting to be let in.”

Screwing your eyes shut tight, you pray that he, who you presume to be Silco, doesn’t disregard you, a kind of desperate hope surfacing when you listen to him sigh.

“Then let them in. And close the door on your way out.” Your heart nearly jumps out of your mouth when heavy footsteps draw nearer, pacing towards your direction. Quickly moving away from the entrance, you clasp your hands out in front of you and wait patiently, as if you’d been in the same position all this time, not snooping where you shouldn’t be.

The outline of Sevika’s boots pool into two shadows at the crack at the bottom of the door and you can almost feel the weight of her hand on the knob.

“Good luck.” There’s no time to whisper your thanks before you’re ushered into the room by a small twitch of Sevika’s fingers, quickly shedding your jacket as you approach the space.

The slight separation between the door and wall gives you the view of a couch on the left side of Silco’s office—red, puffed, and regal. It’s studded with matching velvet button pins, matte and consistently placed over the surface. As the gap widens, you’re given a clearer look at the object, the piece of furniture growing longer, more detail embroidered into its fabric and carved into its wooden base, twisting and turning with shocking preciseness—

—until you lose sight of it completely, and all you can see is a blazing, crimson iris.

And the scar that surrounds it.

For just a moment, the world goes silent.

The blemish is muted, smudged over with concealer that doesn’t match his skin tone, an eyebrow drawn on top of the coverup job. Though it’s barely noticeable, how it fades from his left side to his right, after so many years of staring at your own deformity, you’d recognize it in a heartbeat.

And you notice how he looks at yours. Your left is raw, uncovered, perhaps even somewhat proudly displayed. Deep red lines and pink flesh hardened by time split your cheek and dig deep into the soft crevice of where your eye originally laid. His gaze traces over the sight, running a familiar path down a blackened cleft that meets the rich tone of your skin.

Silco’s stare holds an indecipherable emotion—his pupils are blown wide, but within his clouded irises there’s conflict. Even the bright vermillion eye seems to dim when taking a moment to study your features. Stone-faced and unreadable, he sits with a soft frown at the cushy chair behind his desk, regarding you as you peer at him cautiously.

No judgement lies behind those eyes—blazing crimson and deep black with dirty white and brilliant blue—despite all that remains unknown about what swirls around inside his head. You know, and you feel your chest tighten at the realization.

“Would you like to sit down?” Silco asks smoothly, voice silky. Your approach is less graceful than his invitation, as you hesitate before slowly nodding and easing onto the couch on his right, posture rigid, spine straight, still occupied by the reveal.

You hear the uncorking of a whiskey bottle, then a soft pouring sound as the liquor hits the inside of a clean glass.

“This must be a very shocking turn of events for you,” he hums, threading his fingers through his hair, “After everything.” Slowly, you nod after what feels like forever.

“Yeah.” Your throat bobs when you swallow, mouth dry and tongue cemented to the floor. “It’s just… I can’t believe…”

“Believe what?” Silco chuckles, taking careful sips of whiskey, “I can’t know anything if you don’t tell me.” His multi-colored irises stare pointedly at you, expecting.

“It’s you.” You feel tears brim your eyes, the whites surrounding your irises growing hot at the moisture. “I just can’t believe that it’s you. After all this time.” The man to your left takes upon a wistful expression, lips gently pursing and gaze far-off, in deep thought.

“What exactly is so hard to believe?” he muses, “Never expected a fellow, humble servant of Zaun to be connected to you?”

You’re about to respond with a curt objection, some kind of phrase that indicates your Piltoverian background, his misconception, but you catch the subtle glint in his eye first. Digging your thumbnail into the pad of your index finger, you keep quiet.

Of course he knew. How could he not? This was some kind of test, it had to be.

“I— I—” you stammer, the right words dying on your tongue, “It’s not… hard.” You cringe at the crude phrasing of what you want to say, but you find that it’s all you can muster. Silco gazes tauntingly at you.

“Then what is it?”

You don’t need to look at him to know that there’s likely a smirk on his face. Or so you think.

“Is it so impossible to understand,” you breathe, “That the introduction of you has resolved quite possibly most of my problems in my life?” A period of silence proceeds the comment, allowing for thought to happen, guiding the moment forward with shaking pushes.

“I’m afraid that I don’t quite follow,” Silco hums, finally breaking the stillness, “Could you elaborate?” You know better than anyone that he needs no elaboration. He simply craves the story.

You wonder if it’s some kind of twisted powerplay, but continue anyhow.

“You may know of my history, from the lap of luxury in a respectable house from the upper city to the Lanes,” you say, running your tongue along your bottom lip, “I… never really had any problems during my time in Piltover, at least for the half of it. There was always enough food to eat, plenty of lavish goods, and I had the privilege of knowing exactly what my future held.”

“But then…” You gesture to your scar with a slight, sad smile. “This happened. And within a week I was homeless and abandoned, beaten to shame. I’m sure you know too much about that.” Lifting your chin, you turn to Silco for an answer, but he retains his neutral expression. You sigh.

“In the end, I was abandoned because of my scar.” My scar. Silco’s head tilts to his right ever so slightly, and you notice with a flicker of your eye in his direction. “But I’m sure there are other questions you’d like to ask, Silco.”

You give him time to speak.

“Why did you come here?” comes out of his mouth when the waiting period ends. “Even the worst life in Piltover is better than what’s best here.”

A breathy laugh brushes past your lips, features shifting to reflect a sense of bittersweetness, perhaps longing or regret—culminating into pity, for someone, someplace, for yourself or others.

“I would rather live the life nobody in Piltover wants than die at their hands.”

The Kingpin’s lips quirk upwards as a silent shiver trickles down his spine. A sudden warmth blooms in his chest, pulsating fervorously to shoot a clementine high through his system. Despite this, he does his best to maintain his neutral facade, though you realize that he’s sitting a little straighter than before.

“Death? I didn’t know that was a concept people considered on the topside.”

“Admittedly, most don’t,” you say, “Not before others find out that they don’t belong, anyway.”

“Don’t belong?” Inflections of curiosity cross his tone when he raises the question.

“It seems that there are even things that you don’t know about Piltover, huh?” Silco remains silent, and you take it as a cue to go on. “Don’t be blindsided by its reputation. It’s divided amongst itself, even without the concept of Zaun. They forgo humanity in the pursuit of progress and in turn drive their own out because of trivial differences that’ll hinder its role in the economy. It’s a multi-faceted establishment. Not a city, not a community.

“I think you can guess what that means for people like me.” You give him a moment to ponder the possibilities.

“I’m not aware of a steady stream of immigrants from the topside to Zaun,” Silco muses, “If I was, I don’t believe I’d be surprised by your presence.” Silence takes the place of an amused chuckle, your eye remaining dark when met with his perspective.

“That’s because they don’t immigrate. They can’t move.” A chill settles deep inside your bones, making a home for itself in blood-bound marrow when you swallow the lump in your throat.

“They die.”

Silco looks unfazed, but seems to beckon you to continue—which you do, braving the topic.

“Many were driven to suicide. Other deaths were the result of mob violence. Lynchings. Arson. Murders. Public executions. All done under the veil of secrecy, gone before dawn. The darkest side of a radical society in Runeterra.

“For those forgone by their home, their graves are hidden away on the outskirts nobody tends to or touches. It’s the only way I know that they’ll be safe, finally at peace after everything, despite it all.”

Your hands curl into fist, balling atop your lap, clutching the fabric of your pants. Silco’s drawl enters your ears from an unfortunate memory and you grit your teeth, jaw clenched, joint protruding.

“And when you ask me why, why I came here and stooped so low for some stupid purpose, this is why. I would have died sooner or later. Whether it be by my own volition or the doing of somebody else. It was considered a type of mercy to some, remaining untarnished until the bitter end. I saw what lay in front of me and despised it, and subsequently did whatever I could to avoid it.

“And if I couldn’t pursue what I’d yearned for for so long I saw no purpose in remaining.” Your words run out, and you’re left sitting there, a whirlwind of thought blowing through your tundra of a mind. “So I came. To find you.”

“Hm.” A low, rumbling hum comes from the man across the table when he finishes listening, setting down his glass of whiskey. “Is that the truth?”

“Excuse me?”

“I asked you if that was the truth,” Silco repeats, voice somehow softer, more relenting, “But that’s not all, is it?” Fear suddenly hauls you into stillness, grips your shoulders until they fold in on themselves, bones cracking under the pressure. Your brows furrow as your face contorts into something desperate.

You can’t bring yourself to look at him when you shake your head.

And he says nothing.

Silco just remains, patient, staring at you until you gather yourself.

“I was lucky enough to find kindness in Piltover.” You tug your bottom lip in between your teeth and shake away the memory of refuge. “Someone that cared, loved me not for my name. A person kind enough to— A person— A… A person kind enough.”

Your voice breaks in the middle, a pathetic lilt taking over what little stability you have left. The acridness of bile nips at the back of your throat, forcing you to bring a hand up to your lips, stomach twisting in knots at the sensation.

“Then the explosion happened, and everything fell apart.” It comes as a whisper, barely a breath exhaled in the midst of certain devastation. “I wanted an escape, a way to dream. So to Zaun I went, and in Zaun I stayed. To find my soulmate. To find you. The bane of my existence and the light of my life all the same.”

A heavy breath rattles your frame, knuckles turning white as you cling harder onto the cloth of your pants for stability. Bit by bit, you attempt to turn your head, averting your eyes from the lavish paintings hung on the wall across from you to gaze at the figure who you’re supposed to be speaking to.

“We… We all deserve a chance at love, right?”

You pause to swallow, still daring to speak despite your tongue sticking to the roof of your mouth, dry.

“To love. To be loved. Why else would we have this fate? To share each other’s pains, to mourn the loss of flesh and bone as if the injuries were our own, as if another’s life was our responsibility?”

The ground distorts as your vision fogs up, blurred with tears that you desperately try to blink back.

“Or maybe I’m just selfish. And I don’t want to feel alone anymore.” Your eye closes and a stream of tears follow, drawing thin, colorless lines down the bridge of your nose, dripping onto the floor when the collective drop gets too heavy. Taking the inside of your cheek in between your teeth, you bite back a sob as your shoulders begin to tremble.

It’s pathetic; you feel pathetic and lost, coming undone like a sad piece of twine, unraveling completely at the mercy of the hand that pulls you loose.

“Nobody wishes for loneliness, my dear.” Silco’s voice suddenly draws your eye open. “You forget that I have also awaited your arrival, just as you have anticipated mine.”

At this, you finally look at him, and you’re met with a softened expression, not one of scorn or displeasure, but sentiment, welcoming in every wrinkle and sharp turn of his angular face. He seems gentle, despite his blazing orange eye, the same that could glare and paralyze, maim and destroy; he seems capable of love, of adoring and receiving that same, simple kindness.

Silco looks human.

Then his arms part just a little and his fingers lay flat against his desk, a small movement, but it’s enough.

Your heart clenches as you stand, legs threatening to give in, but you start to walk towards him.

As you approach Silco’s desk, he makes no move to run, no move to go, and simply stays, frozen in place—perhaps awaiting your eventual arrival. Your steps grow smaller as you near his figure, stopping only inches away from the wooden table.

Lifting your chin and mustering all your courage into a trembling arm, you reach out—

—and take his hand, fingers loosely intertwined with his.

Your bottom lip starts to tremble when you find that the action meets no resistance, but instead a gentle squeeze that tightens the hold. You clench your jaw and furrow your brows, a soft sob leaving your lips when he slowly gets up and embraces you with a sigh, chin resting at the crook of your neck.

“I have waited so long to find you.” The murmur rumbles through his chest, the surface vibrating against your own when he holds you closer. “Seeing that every minute spent waiting was worth it, I am grateful that I did.”

“Silco,” you whimper, “Oh God, this still feels like I’m dreaming. Just to hold you, to love you like this, it seems so unreal. Please don’t let this be a dream.” The Kingpin chuckles, pressing a soft kiss on your forehead.

“I can assure you that I’m very much real, my lovely.” His hand comes up, threading his fingers through your hair, cradling your skull. “What I’m hoping is that you can tell me you are too.” You laugh, joyous and real and ever-present.

“I am,” you say with a smile, “I am.”

“Seems as if both of our fears were irrational, then,” he responds, “But I’m glad.”

“I don’t think I need to say anything to tell you how I feel.” Your grip against the middle of his back tightens and you feel him stiffen, skin steadily growing in heat. Silco swallows slowly when you shift against him.

“No,” he says, breathing out steadily, “You don’t.”

You smile. “Thank you.”

Then, you think that you’re enough.

#silco #silco x reader #silco/reader #silco arcane #arcane #arcane silco #silco x you #silco/you #league of legends #arcane league of legends #lol #angst #happy endings #x reader #zaun

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crimedaddysimp · 3 years ago

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Hullo.

This is my very first fic ever so please be nice and I hope you like it. I wrote it kinda fast so everything is probably done wrong 🙃

Summary: It starts off as just a job. You meet, you please him, you leave. You never thought that it would turn in to something so much more.

Silco/fem reader

Multi-chapter: SFW in the first one but will get NASTY FAST. Please leave a heart if you liked the read :)

First chapert: A SIMPLE TOUCH

You had worked in a brothel for some time now. One of the more vetted girls. A high request for you almost each night. You were known throughout the lanes even. A high price to pay for your services but those who paid, paid well.

You had your own quarters there for bringing such good money in. Treated better than most of the other girls. Allowed more privileges. As you sat in your room at your vanity getting ready for a regular night, you had no idea the customer you would soon be getting and how it would effect and change your whole life, forever.

You didn't love your job. An act every night to keep food in your belly and a roof over your head. Minus a day off here and there, yet you lived better than most in the undercity and after the years it became like breathing to you. Something that just was. You had what you needed at least and that kept you going.

Having no family of your own and on the streets as a young girl. The head Mistress felt pity as she saw you eating from the brothel's trash bins each night and took you in. She was good to you and after you got older she put you to work. Over the years you became more popular and brought more money in. You climbed up to be one of her most requested girls for the house quickly.

On this particular night, it's started out like any other. The sun had set and the city night lights came on, green filling your windows and the buz of night life filled the streets as you got ready like any other night. Your best dress, hair done, touching up your makeup.

Suddenly the door to your quarters burst open with a bang that startled you so much you almost dragged your lipstick across your face. You heard your name be called in a high pitched gleeful sound of a voice.

Her name was Honey, one of the other girls you worked with who had become a close friend. You weren't close to many, but she was always there for you. Having been on the streets her self as a small child. You both related to one another and became close over the years. Like sisters.

"Have you heard!?" she gleefully said with a hurried stride across the room to kneel beside you at your vanity. Eyes beaming up at you.

"Gods Honey! I almost ran my lipstick." You huffed and leaned in closer to your mirror to correct any that may have missplaced.

"Girl! Sevika came in tonight! She requested you personally!" she elated. Claping her hands together and staring at you with a grin.

"And?" you huffed again "she's a regular here.. though she has never requested for me before she has her regular girl she sees.. She probably just wants something dif-"

"Oh its not for her." Honey cuts off, A sly look went across her face as you finally looked at her after examining yourself once more.

"It's for Silco!!" and she proceeded to scream with giddy delight and bounce back up on her feet pulling you up with her.

"W-what? The Silco?" your words slightly catching in your throat.

"The eye of Zaun himself! Oh I'm so terribly jealous!" Honey sighed as she hugged herself lost in thought. Unaware of how shocked you actually were.

You couldn't believe what she had said. It took you a minute to process the thought. Silco has never come to the brothel. Or A brothel for that matter. Seemingly too busy and or impossibly important to do such a thing. Hearing rumors of how the kingpin dealt business and ran the undercity, you'd never imagine he would require a service from such a place, let alone a request for you.

"but, why me?" you softly spoke out from shock.

"Why you? You are the most popular and requested girl in the lanes! How could he not find out about you?!" she said and crossed her arms and staired at you with a smile. Then came closer and touched her hands to both your shoulders

"You are about to make SO much money! You MUST tell me all about it after!" she beemed and turned abruptly and hurried out your room and down the hall. No doubt to tell the others.

You stood there for a moment to try and make since of what Honey just told you, when another figure walked in the door. It was the head Mistress of the house.

"Darling, you've got a big night tonight. I'm sure Honey has told you." she said and took a drag of her cigarette she held. Smoke swirling around her face "Get yourself together and come down stairs." she said cooly and walked right back out.

You had been doing this for years now. It was nothing new to play with big game before, but never this big. Never Silco himself. A wave of nervousness and fear suddenly washed over you and you felt a pit form in your stomach and your knees buckled. It took all you could to hold yourself up. Leaning a hand on your vanity for stability. This could be dangerous. You let a moment pass, checked yourself in the mirror once more, and talked yourself on to try and calm the pumping of your heart in your throat.

"It's ok. You have done this many times. You'll be ok" you swallowed.

Straightening your dark emerald green velvet dress that reached the floor and grabbing a small handbag to match. Adjusting the gold chain straps to hang on your shoulders just right, you turned and walked out of your room. Down the hall and down the stairs to the front. You see Sevika and your Mistress at the front bar and desk. Waiting. Nerves and heartbeat back in your throat at once at the sight.

You hear your name called and walk over. You gather yourself and remembered this is your job. You can't act like this. You are a vet, you must uphold yourself.

"Hello Mistress. Miss Sevika." You sweetly approach with poise and charm. A slight alluring smile on your face. You know the act well by now. Even if you slightly trembled.

"Sevika here has said you are requested for Silco himself tonight. He will not be coming here but you there, at The Last Drop. You are to listen to all Sevika says about the matter. Understood?"

"Yes ma'am" you chime and small head bow in Sevika's direction. She looked over you hard and then to your Mistress and smirked out.

"Don't worry. I'll be sure to bring your best girl back in once piece." she chuckled and went to turn for the door. You stepped to follow her but felt a small tug on your elbow and turned. It was Mistress and she looked at you with a soft caring in her eyes.

"Don't worry girl, be sure to listen and do your best." she softly said and slid a hand on your cheek and looked you in the eyes and smiled tenderly at you.

"You'll be alright dear. Go." You smile lightly back at her and then with a light push on your lower back she sent you out the door with Sevika. To The Last Drop. To Silco. The thought put butterflies in your stomach and a fearful thought in your head. You followed Sevika through the night streets lit with green and crowded with people. You stuck close to her but you trailed behind just by a few steps.

You couldn't help but think about the situation you found yourself in. It scared you. You knew who Silco was but never met the man. Seen what some of his men had looked like walking the streets. Heard the girls whisper of the death he carried in his wake at anyone who over stepped or crossed him. This was not a regular job. Not like one of your normal nights at all and you were rightfully nervous as hell.

You thought about the money he possessed then, and how any girl would have a hefty pay out if ever they had this chance. This thought suddenly kept you going and you composed yourself once more. This was not your first time. This could changed things. You remembered yourself and tried to calm down and the reminder of how you wanted to save up as much as you could for years now and one day leave the brothel. Have a real life for once. It gave you back your nerve. This was just like any other job, right?

Suddenly Sevika stopped and you had to make sure you didn't all but run into the back if her. You looked up and didn't realize you had already reached your destination. The Last Drop. You swallowed hard. You both stood by the front doors and she all but looked at the bouncers and they both opened the doors to the club without so much as a look at you. Music blaring from inside. Sevika stepped through the doors first and you followed behind hastily.

It was mildly crowded. A bit early in the night. Sevika crossed the floor and headed to the stairs and quickly you followed her. Only taking in a bit of your surroundings. It was your first time here but you hadn't the time. You both climed the stairs and then rounded a corner, passing a few closed doors. The smell of smoke and alcohol lightly in the air from the club below. She stopped at a closed door at the end of the hall and abruptly turned to face you. Towering. Hard staring and taking a serious aura.

"A few things before you enter this room." She sternly said and you straighting up and shiverd at the burn from her eyes, but listened intently and obediently.

"Silco is expecteing you now but did not request you, I did." Your eyes widened, and a pit formed in your stomach again. You knew it was an odd request from the beginning.

"He has had a particularly rough few weeks and it's honestly insufferable. I thought maybe this interaction could.. alleviate.. the stress" she emphasized. You swallowed hard.

"Do not talk unless spoken too. Do not touch him unless asked too, and do not try anything funny," she leaned down closer to your face and the glow of purple light and a hiss from her coverd arm warned. "or you will have consequences."

"Y-yes. Of course." You gulped. You dare not to ever cross a line. Not here. You didn't want death apon you.

She straighten back up and looked you over once more then turned to the door. Knocked and then just swung the door open.

"Go on in."

#fanfic #silco #arcane #arcane silco #daddy silco #silco x reader #eventual smut

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witchypandamonium · 3 years ago

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It’s All a Performance (Silco/f!OC)

Post-Act 1 Silco/f!OC Chapter 11 of ? 2,277 words, SFW No warnings

AO3 link

The first thing Amara noticed was the smell—heady cologne, the hint of spicy smoke, and something clean and… green? So very different from the smell of her room she’d long ago grown nose-blind to. As a dull, satisfying soreness rose to her senses next, she realized where she was; remembered what had happened last night. It brought a smile to her face just thinking about it. If the gala was a dream, what did that make what they shared in this very bed?

She cracked her eyes open to the characteristic dim Zaun sunlight, soft and tinged with green, glowing from behind the curtained window and streaming from an open door on the far side of the room. Soft music, a sort of casual jazzy swing that she remembered used to thrive in the Undercity when she was a little girl, played from this mysterious room—seemed a clear invitation to her. Sitting up, Amara found her gown hanging neatly in the sparse closet and Silco’s folded neatly on a nearby chaise. In a bit of mischief she decided to put on the Chem-Baron’s burgundy dress shirt (and nothing else, as she hadn’t worn any underwear) and pad barefoot up the small set of stairs behind the open door.

At the top of the steps she found a lovingly-crafted Cultivair. She had wondered what the dome of glass at the top of the Last Drop was, but most Cultivairs were higher up, in the Entresol, so she hadn’t expected one here in the Sump. It was clear a lot of care and effort went into this private garden, every shrub, vine, and blossom thriving in the slightly humid air, perfuming it with the sweet smell of flowers. A small record player sat on the far wall, and not too far away Silco was tending to a large night-blooming shrub of some sort. His mutated left eye swiveled to her first, its monstrous appearance so out-of-place in a little pocket of paradise. He straightened slightly, sharp inhale through his nose almost inaudible, as he recognized what she was wearing (it wasn’t as oversized on her as would be ideal, but it at least gave her some modesty ending just a few inches past her butt).

“Morning,” she murmured with a smile, walking to one of the few flowers that was still open—a lovely dark purple bloom.

“I’m going to have to order another one of those,” he replied, eyes roving her body, simmering with the beginnings of that burning hunger from the night before. He moved to stand behind her, arms wrapping around her waist as he rested his chin on her shoulder, purring into her ear, “because that looks far too good on you. If I had my way you’d wear nothing else here.”

Feeling the color rise to her cheeks, she rested her hands on his and leaned back into him. “Good, because I’m not giving it back,” she laughed. A low chuckle rumbled in his chest, sending a shiver down her spine. “Can I wear underwear next time, at least?”

“Hmm, I’ll take it into consideration.” A soft, chaste kiss was placed on her cheek, his prominent nose tickling her skin. “Which reminds me, where were you keeping that knife?”

“My coat sleeve. Why?”

“Because I’m struck by the urge to get you a garter holster.”

“You know I can’t resist gifts from you.”

“Such as a place in my home and in my bed?”

That stilled her tongue, knowing he felt her stiffen against him. “Are you asking me to move in?”

His hands drew comforting little circles along her sternum, his nose brushing her shoulder as he began trailing kisses down her arm. “After denying myself for so long I’ll do it no longer. I never want to let you out of my sights.”

“I’ll… have to think about it,” she answered honestly, adding quickly, “not because I don’t want to. It’s just… my family’s house has a lot of memories tied to it. I don’t know if I can just let it all go.”

Silco hummed in response, lifting her arm by the wrist so he could continue his path past her elbow. “Understandable. I’m not asking you to get rid of it—I’ll even take care of the rent if that’s what you need. But you are welcome here as much as you desire.” His trail ended at her hand, a kiss placed on her palm before he drew it to cup his unscarred cheek. “Perhaps acquiring a few changes of clothing to start? I can have Sevika take care of it.”

“As long as I can go with.” Her smile gained a wry tilt as she gave his cheek an affectionate pat. “I have a feeling you’d specifically tell her not to grab any underwear.”

She could feel the rumble of his chuckle with his chest pressed as it was against her back, teeth nipping the skin of her palm. “I will neither confirm nor deny.” He began to press more insistently, more intentionally, against her, hand at her waist sliding down to tickle the skin of her tight that lay exposed just under the hem of his shirt.

“Dad?”

They moved in unison, jumping as though struck by an Enforcer’s stun baton, Silco spinning to block her with his body while facing their little visitor, Amara pulling down the shirt as low as it would go as she darted behind him.

It was the little girl with the blue hair again.

“Good morning, Jinx,” Silco said in that soft voice that seemed so alien to him given his appearance. So her name was Jinx; a bit odd, but not terribly so—the nicknames some trenchers went by were sometimes even stranger. Still, she wondered if there was a story behind that.

“Is that the fairy lady?”

Oh shit. Hands still holding the shirt down over her modesty, Amara slowly slid from behind Silco and tried to keep her nervousness from showing in her smile. Just act normal, and maybe she wouldn’t notice. “Good morning. It’s nice to see you again,” she said in a sing-song voice. “I don’t think we were properly introduced—my name’s Amara.”

“I’m Jinx,” she replied shyly, eyes elusively drifting around the Cultivair, never fully rising to meet hers. “I knew you weren’t really a fairy.” There was a touch of stubbornness in her soft tone, as kids did when they needed to prove they were smarter and more grown up.

Amara shrugged, carefully kneeling in such a way that she wouldn’t expose herself. “Sometimes we all need to pretend things are a bit more magical to make things a little easier. We all deserve a little wonder, don’t you think?”

The girl hummed, finally finding the courage to look her in the eye. “I guess.”

“When I’m not pretending to be a fairy, I’m a singer. I make some gadgets to make my concerts more magical—if I remember right, you make gadgets too, right?”

That got her attention, eyes lighting up. “Yeah!”

“I have to go home really quickly to get a few things. Would you like to show me some of them when I get back?”

“Can you show me some of yours, too?”

“Sure,” she nodded. “I have a few things I can grab.”

“Why don’t you go get your new testing area ready, pumpkin?” Silco crooned, ruffling the girl’s already sleep-mussed hair.

“Okay!” And with a big grin she was off, running in that awkward way that kids who’d just hit their growth spurt and were still getting used to their gangly limbs did.

Only standing once they were alone again, Amara sighed in relief, leaning into the Chem-Baron as he wrapped an arm around her shoulders.

“Underwear?”

“Underwear,” he confirmed. “I’ll have Sevika get you something for the jaunt to your house.”

“Thanks,” she hummed, turning to peck a kiss to his scarred cheek.

“Feel free to bring anything you need to be comfortable,” he replied, chasing her to touch their foreheads together. “Anything else you need, I’ll provide—it’s no imposition.”

“Moving fast, aren’t we?”

“Is that a problem?” He tilted her chin up with a single finger, a glimmer of vulnerability shining in his gaze. In that moment she swore she saw a young boy with two seafoam eyes, not yet beaten down by life into the man who would make Enforcers scared to venture into the Undercity. He was so beautiful, but so was the complex man before her now—hardened, yet possessing of a secret softness that she was fortunate enough to see. Songs swam in her head, vying for her attention, begging to be written.

“No,” she smiled and shook her head, hand carding through his hair, freshly washed and styled (albeit with less product), as she moved to kiss the corner of his mouth. “Part of me just has a hard time believing this is real. Things so rarely go right here…”

He pulled her fully into his arms, slanting his lips to hers, swallowing her sighs as his large, willowy hands caressed her curves. “Oh, it’s real,” he purred. “No performance.” Then, with playful roughness, he thrust her an arm’s-reach away. “Now, while I can still restrain myself, let me see about getting you some pants.”

•••

Ran had delivered her a pair of their pants with a knowing smirk and a cocked eyebow, calling her “Fancypants” and instructing her to keep them for the show they’d be attending together next week. “Clearly you don’t have the right wardrobe—boss’d kill me if you get hurt standing out at Trapp’s on my watch.”

Amara made a note to prove quite the contrary to her when the time came, but otherwise simply took them with a sarcastic “Thank you.” If they thought she was some debutante from the Fringes, they were going to eat their words.

Sevika, meanwhile, was oddly quiet, loading whatever she was handed into the carriage waiting in the alley out the back door. Only when they arrived back at the Drop, the doors still locked and the bodyguard unmoving, did she finally speak up.

“He’s never opened up, even this little bit, for anyone before.” Her voice was dark and monotone, every word filled with weighty severity.

Part of her wanted to scoff. This was a little bit? But she knew better than to interrupt Sevika. And she was his right hand—if she had advice, Amara would take it without question or complaint.

“You may have an idea what happened to him before, but I guarantee you it was five times worse. But he pieced himself back together, and he’s the only hope we have of getting out from under Piltover’s boot.” Slowly she looked at her from over her shoulder in the driver’s seat, gray eyes intense, but unreadable—if Amara had to guess, she was conflicted and refused to let it show. “So tread lightly. While I want him to be happy—Gods know he deserves it after the shit he went through—I will not let you hurt the cause. If you do anything—to him or otherwise—to hurt the future of Zaun, I will remove you; most likely on his orders. You seem like a nice girl, I like you. I don’t want to have to do that.”

Taking a deep breath while she collected her thoughts, teeth worrying her bottom lip, she looked at the carriage floor as though the fibers would form into a secret script that would satisfy Sevika. “I won’t lie and say I know what I’m doing…” her fingers fidgeted with each other on her lap, “and yeah, this certainly is going fast, but…” Slowly she lifted her gaze, meeting the steely gray eyes currently scrutinizing her, letting the street tough see past the pretty mask to the uncertainty and optimism she was feeling. “I’ve never been this genuinely happy before, and it’s specifically because of what he’s doing for the Undercity. That I can be a part of that… that I can be there for him when the weight of it all seems too much… it’s all I want.”

“You don’t know what you’re getting into by associating with him.”

“You’re right, I don’t.”

The right hand of Silco blinked, seeming struck by her honestly.

“But if there’s one thing I am more than passionate, it’s stubborn.”

Her eyes narrowed, and then, after a beat of silence, Sevika laughed. Not a large thing, just a single huff, but it dissolved the tension that’d been growing within the carriage nonetheless. The doors unlocked. “Well, you’ve survived this long. At least you’re not a Piltie.”

Shrugging, Amara chuckled and climbed out, helping unload the few bags and boxes she’d packed for the initial stay—including the handful of devices and projects to show Jinx. She was returning the contents of one box that had tipped during a sharp turn when a commotion just at the end of the Drop’s back alley to her right that drew her attention.

It looked like a Shimmer deal gone sour, with the grungy buyer screaming insults at the seller and growing more and more aggressive by the minute. Wait, was that Brod? She couldn’t quite confirm, as a moment later one of the massive bouncers had thrown the man far out the alley, but those screams sounded very familiar. Had his addiction really gotten that bad?

“Something up?”

Putting the last flung scrap into the box and handing it to the inquiring Sevika, Amara shook her head. “No, nothing.”

You couldn’t help those who didn’t want to be helped, after all.

#arcane #league of legends #silco #silco/oc #f!oc #eventual smut #sfw #it's all a performance #sevika #jinx

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jayktoralldaylong · 3 years ago

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"Good night, Jinx," Silco having finally been able to tuck the cute energetic little thing into bed.

Jinx was all curled up in her bed, holding her favourite stuffed animal to her chests. There were nights when she preferred to sleep in his room but sometimes she'd stay in her room when she was feeling safe. She'd had a fun day so she looked happy as her sleepy eyes fluttered close.

"Good night, Dad."

Silco barely caught the word. By the time he realised what she'd said Jinx was already buried underneath her covers. A part of his heart, that he didn't know still existed, melted. He didn't know what to do. Had she made a mistake? Did she miss her real parents?

He shut the door gently.

Would she keep calling him dad? Would he prefer if she kept calling him dad? He hadn't signed up to be a father. Would he mind being a father....?

His mind couldn't stop working, even as he sat at his desk listening to Sevika. Pretending to listen to Sevika. There was a lot of work to be done and he finally had time to do it.

'Good night, Dad. Good night, Dad. Good night, Dad. Good night, Dad. Good night, Dad. Good night, Dad. Good night, Dad.'

Silco couldn't care less about work right now. He couldn't get his mind off what she'd said.

"Silco? Can you hear me?" Sevika asked. Why wasn't he responding? Why was he staring at her like she wasn't even there? Was it the ghost of Vander....again?

"Silco?" Sevika asked a little concerned now. When he was having his Vander moments it was best not to get too close or it would set him off. "Are you okay? Do you want to do this another day?"

"Have you ever.....missed your father?"

"What?"

Sevika was stunned. This was new. This had never happened with the Vander episodes before. Were they becoming worse now?

"Have you ever....no nevermind," Silco said. "It's nothing. What did you say? Let me see those documents."

He tried to act like everything was fine but it wasn't fine. He kept staring into space. Sevika thought he was tired but the next day he was still staring into space. His little hellion of a daughter was colouring in her room so at least she was out of the way, but something was haunting Silco. Whatever it was, Sevika had to deal with it right away. They needed their leader to at least pretend to have his shit together.

"Silco, if there is something on your mind you know I will take care of it. An uprising, a rebellion, anything bothering you. Just let me handle it," she offered.

"Has Jinx ever called you Mum, before?"

"I would hope she never does," Sevika said blankly without missing a beat. The girl didn't have a good track record with parents. At least she knew the issue was about Jinx now. She should have known. "Did she say something?"

"She....," Silco's eyes glanced at her hesitant, red and green meeting hers before looking away as if hesitant or shy. He scowled and slammed his hand on the table hating to appear weak. "Back to work."

"She called you, Dad?" Sevika couldn't let this slide. They needed to do this now.

Silco groaned his face falling into his hands. "I don't know if I should discourage it. What if it brings up more traumatising memories for her. Things are already so hard."

I'm glad he's at least not going insane, he's just worried about the mental patient living in our house, Sevika thought. Sorry, the _other_ mental patient.

"Let her call you whatever she wants," Sevika said going for the tough way to deal with things. Giving Silco hard facts instead of false words of comfort. "Some people use that to cope with trauma. As long as she's not calling you anything insulting it should be fine."

"Right....," Silco said relaxing at that. It in fact should be fine. Jinx could call him.... anything she liked.

Sevika smiled to see her boss become once again at peace with himself. Silco was an exceptional ingenious man. A little bit crazy but still functional.

"Mr. Silco."

"Yes, Jinx?" Silco replied automatically. He noticed the name shift and seemed to calm even more. "What is it?"

"I made this for you," Jinx grinned. The little bluette set down a card she'd spent all morning colouring. It looked just as creative as all of Jinx's other haphazard projects but it brought a smile to Silco's face.

"This looks lovely dear. How's target practice?" Silco asked as he examined the card. There seemed to be a figure of him holding hands with Jinx at the front. Cute.

"It's going well," Jinx grinned and ran off. "I'm going to practice more."

"On dummys not people this time!" Sevika yelled after her.

The card was folded so Silco opened it to see Jinx had scrawled something inside with crayon. It said:

'World's best Dad'

Silco nearly had a heart attack from all of the feels that assaulted him at once. He nearly fell right of his chair. Sevika whipped around in shock then groaned when she saw the card.

"Damn, Jinx!"

Undoing all her hard work.

i keep seeing posts where baby jinx calls silco “mr. silco” so now im thinking about how she called him mr. silco until one day she called him dad and then silco didn’t stop thinking about it all day and sevika thought he was going (even more) crazy

#jinx #silco #dad silco #arcane #arcane headcanon #sevika #silco and jinx #silco and vander #my very first arcane fic #i saw the post and couldn't resist #how did i do?

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foxychaosstarlight · 3 years ago

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Beauty and the Beast. Chapter 2.

Vampire!Silco x Fem!Original character - NSFW! | MDN

Warnings: relationship development, age gap, attempted rape, virginity loss, peeping, gentle sex, blow job, hand job, bloodplay, bites kink, daddy kink, loud sex, unprotected sex, sex with a pregnant woman, alcohol, smoking, death of animals.

Chapter 1 here.

Ch. 2 sub-chapter 1, 2, 3, 4, 5

Gina woke up from the warm tickle of a mischievous sunbeam, which, having found a crack in the loosely drawn curtain and having passed the translucent canopy, now slid across the girl's face. Gina, feeling the weight of the blanket and feeling the soft bed under her, woke up completely. The last thing she remembered was sitting in the living room with Singed, in the owner's chair. The raven flew down on her lap and she stroked him... and the heat of the hearth seemed to make them both fall asleep. Yes, that's right, she didn't wait for Silco and most likely fell asleep right in his chair. So it was he who brought her here…Gina gasped and looked under the blanket. The sheer fabric that slightly covered her nakedness was still on her and looked untouched. "He didn't touch me... he didn't even take off that curtain," - the girl thought with relief and embarrassment. Of course, it was dangerous to fall asleep so carelessly in an unfamiliar castle without really recognizing the man who is next to you. But Gina was so tired that her eyes closed by themselves and she slept in someone else's bed all night without even moving. And besides, it wasn't that Silco didn't look dangerous – he inexplicably inspired Gina with a certain confidence.

The girl, slightly relaxed, yawned and rubbed her sleepy eyes, then began to examine the room. Cozy. The bedroom was quite small, but it was even better this way. Anyway, it's bigger than her room at Rose's. The thought of her stepmother made the girl smile bitterly. Surely she wasn't even thinking of looking for her missing stepdaughter, Gina could have sworn. If wolves had eaten her, Rose would have danced on her bones. Remembering the house, the girl blinked sadly. Without her father, everything changed, everything went wrong, and her house ceased to belong to her, ceased to be her home. Living with Rose, she didn’t feel the old warmth in the walls of the dwelling. She didn't want to go home from school, her legs themselves were slower, stretching the way. Gina didn’t leave only because her proud and wayward nature didn’t allow her to give this evil b!tch, who had profited from her father's death, also his house. And now... here, in this cold old castle, thanks to Silco, she felt much more at home than in her own dwelling. She was taken care of here…

The girl, thinking about her father and Silco, suddenly remembered how she felt this night that she was being carried in arms. It was Silco, right? Who else. So the five-year-old Gina, who had fallen asleep, was picked up by her father with his strong hands from the floor where she was playing and carefully carried his daughter into the bedroom. Silco's hands resembled her father's. The same strong and gentle…

Gina, still holding her green makeshift toga, got out of bed. "Are you suggesting that I walk around the castle LIKE THIS?" - the girl, throwing her dried hair forward again, firmly intended to go and ask Silco for some clothes. She was aware that he must have seen all the most interesting things while carrying her. So, she has nothing to be ashamed of anymore. "This is stupid! Stop blushing at last!" - Gina mentally barked at herself, feeling the color of shame flood her cheeks again. She has nothing to be ashamed of! "Shame is not on the one who dances, but on the one who watches" - this ancient Indian saying, read by Gina as a child, surfaced in her red head. And it should be a shame for the owner of the house, who didn’t even provide a guest with a bathrobe! If she assume that yesterday he wasn’t ready for the appearance of an unexpected guest and forgot to hang towels and a bathrobe in the bathroom, then now, when he was carrying an almost naked girl into the bedroom, he had to remember that she had no suitable clothes, since she had to wrap herself in this rag!

And as soon as the angry and embarrassed Gina, blushing to the roots of her hair, was resolutely thinking of going and finding the owner to tell him everything, her gaze fell on a low chair next to the bed. It was hanging a large man's shirt made of maroon silk. Oh, so Silco had thought of her after all. The girl felt her face burning again, but not from anger. He really thought of her.

Quickly throwing off the annoying rag, Gina threw on the man's shirt, hastily buttoning up a buttons. The bloody silk shimmered under the fingers, coolly caressed the skin, flowing around the contours of the girl's body like water. Gina glanced at herself in the antique mirror on the floor. Her shoulders were much narrower than the shirt suggested, so Gina could safely hide her hands in the hanging sleeves. This didn’t cause problems, because the girl didn’t fasten the wide slits on them and her hands were free. The dark red fabric reached just above the middle of her thigh. Yes, it will be embarrassing to bend over in this outfit. But what worried Gina most of all – the dark smooth silk emphasized everything that a decent girl would like to hide, no worse than the unfortunate curtain lying at her feet. Yes, the opaque silk cloth hid her skin... but the rounded outlines of her breasts, the noticeable bumps of her nipples, the curves of her slim waist, stomach and hips, the slippery soft fabric clung to her as if a brilliant sculptor had thrown garnet silk over a sculpture that he had been lovingly grinding for a long time, and now the fabric flowed like a dark fiery river through smooth curves, not missing not one. It was beautiful, however…Gina, in her opinion, wasn’t in the status to walk around someone else's house in his master's shirt on her naked body. Or doesn't Silco think so? Maybe he just doesn't have any other clothes that would fit her…

Gina has turned on herself again – she blames Silco, and it was she herself who so absentmindedly drenched her clothes with water yesterday! Silco didn’t rudely wake her up when he saw her in his chair, carefully carried her to the bedroom, didn’t take advantage of a good situation and didn’t attack her like nasty Michael, although Silco clearly saw more. He didn't even have the discourtesy to take off her clothes…Gina felt a warm wave spreading in her chest. No man had ever behaved with her so... respectfully. "Maybe he's a really good person," the girl decided and, pulling her shirt down a little more, left the bedroom.

Silco, with his hands behind his back, stood in the dining room, looking out the high window. The morning was just coming into its own, the soft golden sun rays were in a hurry to shed its grace on the world: on the dark fir trees frozen in anticipation, on the grass sparkling with dew, on the damp stones and the deathly cold palms of his dying roses. A gentle warmth of the morning erased what happened under the cover of night: after placing the seductively naked red-haired guest for the night, the vampire, again feeling the bloodlust tearing to shreds, caught a fat gray rat in a dark corner of the stone corridor and, quickly twisting her neck, greedily bit into her soft side. Having slightly satisfied his hunger with living blood, Silco took the body that had satiated him to the garden and buried it under a large bush of crimson roses. He respected those who gave him food. But he hasn't eaten rats since the Black Death raged in the middle of the 14th century. The vampire sighed. What is this girl doing to him…It seems that he has never woken up so hungry and has never fasted so long after his special sleep. The man stood over the small hillock, frowning, and, as if remembering something, suddenly turned abruptly and walked back to the castle.

When he got to the bathroom where his guest was spending time, he found what he expected to see – wet clothes on the floor and the absence of a curtain on the now bare window. Silco chuckled. The girl bared the window to cover her own nakedness…Ironic. The man picked up the things that had fallen into disrepair from the floor and left the bathroom. Having entered the living room so hot that there was practically nothing to breathe in the room, and from the wax candles there were only stubs crying from the heat killing them, Silco resolutely threw the girl's clothes into the greedy mouth of the fireplace. The wet cloth was engulfed in fire in the blink of an eye, finally only hissing pitifully softly. The tall black figure of a man, illuminated by the sated flame, left the hall.

Silco snapped out all the candles in his bedroom with a snap of his fingers, sat down in complete darkness on a huge, simply royal-sized bed and took out white women's panties hidden deep in the pocket of his coat. Having given the coveted guest's clothes to the greedy flame, he couldn’t help but take her underwear for himself. The wet, water-soaked fabric didn’t hide the delicious smell of the girl, which Silco enjoyed in the bathroom and while carrying the young hot body into the bedroom. The man carefully put the panties on the pillow next to him, starting to undress. He wasn't in a hurry now, like when he was in the bathroom. Slowly taking off his suit, Silco put on his night trousers and went to bed, closing his eyes. The exciting smell of the girl hovered very close and the man could imagine that she was lying next to him, so beautiful, tender, naked – the way he saw her in the bathroom. His hand slid down his stomach to where the tensed cock was literally whining, asking for attention. Silco finally free the hot trunk and, spitting on his palm, wrapped his fingers around the hard flesh. Furrowing his brows and tightly closing his eyes from the long-awaited touch to the aching erection, Silco began to slowly move his palm up and down the excited length. His hands were cool, always cool, unlike a hot cock, and now it made it difficult to imagine that he was in the hands of his beloved red-haired beauty. Usually Silco used a warming lubricant if the desire was too great, but now he was so eager to touch himself that he forgot about it. Moving his hand faster and faster, the man moaned softly, touching the sensitive head more often as he approached the peak. Shutting his eyes tightly and clenching his teeth, Silco imagined how a small thin hand gently and clumsily caressed his big cock, how Gina's hot, ragged breath touched the arousal head, how her long fiery hair enveloped his thighs and lower abdomen, so warm… Silco, feeling that the peak of pleasure was near, turned on his side, without stopping rapid movements, buried himself in panties on the pillow and, with a muffled groan, poured out abundantly on the white sheets. Inhaling the beautiful fragrance of his girl and feeling the waves of pleasure gradually subsiding, rolling through his body, he tried to catch his breath. Gently kissing the thin fabric of the underwear, the man relaxed back on the pillows, reaching out to the bedside table in search of napkins.

Remembering his nocturnal temptation, the vampire stood in the rays of light, waiting for the guest who probably had already woken up. The sound of timid bare footsteps didn’t take long to wait. Gina, guided by the delicious smell of breakfast, easily found the dining room. The girl tried to slip unnoticed to the table, but Silco turned around, not giving her such an opportunity and smiling affably.

- Good morning, Gina! I hope you slept well? - looking at the small figure in his shirt, the man continued. – I don’t know if I have the right to ask your forgiveness for being so careless yesterday and forcing you to wrap yourself in a curtain... I will try to compensate for your suffering, I promise.

Gina, quickly crossing her slender legs and squeezing the edge of shirt with her fingers, trying to pull it as low as possible, listened to the man's speech. - I think I have no right to ask you for more, you have already done a lot for me. I’ll forgive you if you will at least provide me with trousers.…

Silco, offering the girl, who frozen in place, a chair where she instantly ducked, tucking her tense legs, took a seat opposite and smiled at her with only his eyes. - My dear, sweet Gina. I would be happy to give you at least all my trousers, if its fit you in size. Unfortunately, or maybe fortunately, its will all be too narrow for you, and I don't have women's clothes.

- And my clothes from yesterday…I think its stayed in the bathroom.

Silco pretended not to understand what she was talking about. Thoughtfully watching the raven, who was having a good breakfast with a fair amount of raw meat, the man calmly replied: - I think it has fallen into disrepair. Most likely, it is. Castle dampness, you know... if you don't hang things in time in a closet protected from moisture, it will be covered with mold, I assure you.

Gina, eyes wide, listened to this utter nonsense, taking it at face value.

Naive little girl. Proud, you can see it right away, but so naive…A completely pure soul.

Silco, looking at the girl, noticed how good she was in his shirt. Just illegally good. Criminally. Sparkling like polished copper, freshly washed slightly curly hair fell carelessly and freely over her shoulders, chest and back. The dark garnet finest expensive silk surprisingly suited her satin milky peach skin, the bright fire of her hair and accentuated her green eyes. Softly shimmering with each breath of the girl, the fabric deliciously clung to the beautiful curves of her body. Silco could see her breasts swaying under the thin, blood-shining silk. The realization that his babe was without underwear made the man remember last night again. Her panties were in his pocket right now, but he wouldn't give them away.

- As far as this color suits you, dear. It’s one hundred percent yours. We are dressed in the same color scheme today. - Silco said, tearing his gaze away from the tender neck at the moment when Gina looked up at him. – This is the only shirt in my wardrobe that is at least slightly decent for you in length. I don’t hope that you will forgive me for this, but after breakfast I intend to buy you new clothes, especially since I’m indirectly responsible for the loss of your own things.

Gina, sliding her bare buttocks on the velvet chair’s seat, tried to calm the rapid heartbeat. New clothes? Does she have the right to do that? Will he spend money on her? Will she owe Silco? All these questions were swarming restlessly in her head and, apparently, reflected on her face, because the owner immediately hurried to explain: - Don't worry, Gina, you will owe me absolutely nothing. On the contrary, it’s my fault that you have been forced to walk like this for the second day. And I will redeem it. Now let's start to breakfast, do you mind?

The girl hesitated and nodded. Silco didn’t devour her with his eyes, didn’t reproach her with anything and didn’t try to touch her when she was in an inappropriate view. He was still friendly and caring, as if she was sitting in front of him wrapped up to the neck in a cloth and it wasn't her bare ass that was trying to slide off the chair right now.

There were few new clothes in Gina's life. The stepmother never bought her things, spending everything on herself, the girl learned to save honestly earned money to buy herself at least something inexpensive. To refuse outright from Silco's generous offer now was simply stupid – she literally had nothing to walk around his possessions in. Moreover, he seems really happy to host her, since he doesn’t kick her to the city in the morning. Silco knows where it is, right? Gina, on the one hand, was embarrassed to abuse the hospitality of the overly kind person, but, on the other hand, she wanted to return to her stepmother's house even less... "I will stay here for one more day, then I will ask Silco to take me to the city, I promise, I will do it," - Gina mentally vowed to herself.

Taking a small sip from an elegant cup of tea, the girl said: - You're so kind to me, Silco. I'm not sure if I deserve it. Broke into your house at night looking, forced to feed, give your clothes…Thank you, really, thank you!

Silco suddenly looked at his guest sternly. - Gina! Stop blaming yourself. I repeat once again – you didn’t embarrass me in any way. I’m really glad to see you here, at home, believe me and finally stop making excuses. Softening his tone, the man added: - Dear child…You just brightened up my life. Don't you dare reproach yourself anymore for getting lost in the woods, hiding from people who hurt you. By the way... I hope you will tell me more about this in the evening, if it doesn't bother you.

The girl smiled and nodded. Singed, who had finished its portion long ago and was looking sideways at the owner's, croaked contentedly, deciding that all the conflicts between the two had apparently been resolved and now it could get close to the untouched ham on Silco's plate. Breakfast continued.

#silco fic #vampire silco #silco x oc #silco #arcane

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foxychaosstarlight · 3 years ago

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Beauty and the Beast

Vampire!Silco x Fem!Original character - NSFW! | MDN

Sub-chapters 1, 2 Sub-chapter 3 Sub-chapter 4

Gina wiped a sweat from her forehead, rested her chin on the mop's top and looked wearily at the results of her work. Well, the house sparkled like a freshly cut diamond, which Gina had never seen, but she assumed that if a diamond should sparkle, it would only be the way the house she had licked clean shone now.

It was getting close to lunch and the girl, who had a snack in the morning only with a sour green apple, decided to cook herself at least something to eat. She put the mop and bucket away in a small storage room under the stairs and once again looked at the results of her hard work with satisfaction. Gina, working with a mop like a real sailor, knocked out of her head all the nonsense and anger that came over her in the morning because of a seemingly routine quarrel with her stepmother - and it helped. Let Rose not appreciate it – she doesn't care. And the girl, having dusted off her hands and tucked in a red strand that had escaped from the disheveled long braid, went to cook pasta.

After hastily taking a shower, combing her hair and changing into an apple-green tight-fitting thin knitted blouse and high pale blue jeans with a dark beige leather belt that accentuated her slim waist, Gina put a large plate of steaming pasta on the table and was just reaching for a fork when the door suddenly opened and something loaded flew into the house branded packages from head to toe. The girl raised an eyebrow skeptically, looking at the out-of-breath stepmother.

- I see you haven't even cleaned up yet, and you're already eating?! – shooting a prickly look at Gina, the woman hissed, but her angry expression immediately changed to such a sweet one that the girl blinked in bewilderment.

And she immediately realized what was the matter. Following the stepmother came a tall blond man in a blue fitted suit with wide shoulder pads, under which a dazzling white shirt was visible, and the polished black shoes on his feet shone almost more than the floor that had just been washed by Gina.

In appearance, the young man was no more than 28 years old. The blonde man with a brisk glance of transparent light blue eyes ran through the furnishings of the house and stopped at Gina, who was frozen with a fork in her hand. While Rose was busy with bags with a bunch of freshly bought clothes, the young man cheekily winked at the girl, who immediately made a frowning, displeased grimace, and began courting Rose, who instantly melted away from his attention.

- This is Michael, dear, meet him. – the stepmother sang in a sugary voice, addressing Gina.

- It's a pleasure, Gina, I've heard a lot about you. – the blond man came up to the table and hovered over the girl, who was dumbfounded by such an invasion of her personal space.

"Has he heard about me? Surely Rose lied to him about what a good mother she is!" - thought Gina, frowning with displeasure.

- It's nice to meet you too, Michael ... - the girl, still sitting on the chair, tried to move away, which didn’t escape the man's gaze. Nevertheless, when Rose invited him to sit down, he took a chair and sat next to Gina almost closely.

- Well, I see our lunch is ready! – the stepmother purred in the same sweet voice and snatched the plate of pasta right from under the nose of the amazed girl, putting it in front of her boyfriend.

Gina defiantly, with a loud clink, put the fork that hadn't yet tasted lunch on the table, to which the woman didn't seem to pay any attention, watching the blonde man with affection. The young man was also in no hurry to eat, having started some kind of abstract conversation, in which Rose readily began to participate, from time to time emitting such languid high sighs that Gina winced.

The girl didn't take part at all in a meaningless conversation that didn't interest her, so she turned away and looked out the window at the lawn flooded with the afternoon sun, dreaming of being there, not here. And suddenly she felt a tickle on her jeans-covered knee. And this tickle cheekily rose higher and higher... Again! Gina jumped up abruptly, throwing off the impudent hand of the blonde man, who at the same time didn't even look in her direction, maintaining eye contact of innocent blue eyes with Rose.

The girl felt the color of anger and shame flooding her face, it was probably already the same color as the fiery roots of her hair. She quickly flew up the stairs to the second floor and leaned against the wall. The stepmother and this pervert didn't seem to notice her absence. How long can she put up with it! How many have been exactly the same, ten, fifteen?! And everyone has been trying to paw her under the table since she turned 13! That's enough!

Gina clenched her fists and went to the bathroom to wash her burning face. She leaned over the sink, rinsed her face with cool water, feeling the color gradually fade and her cheeks stop burning. She opened her eyes, reached for a towel, glanced briefly in the mirror and... what she saw there made her shudder.

In the doorway stood the viciously grinning blond man, already without a jacket, wearing only a snow-white shirt rolled up to the elbows. Gina whirled around to face him.

- Why did you run away, beauty? We got along so wonderfully. - Michael said softly and threateningly.

- Isn't Rose enough for you? Don't come near me, otherwise you'll regret it! – the girl hissed angrily, feeling a strong internal tremor.

It was the first time she was in such a situation, no one had the audacity to stalk her into the house. Panic was growing, but Gina understood that now, in a narrow, cramped bathroom on the second floor, when Rose, deceived by the scoundrel, was probably on the ground floor, no one would help her. Except for herself.

The man smirked, eagerly searching with transparent eyes for the girl's breasts covered with a thin blouse. He took a smooth step towards her, feeling like a predator chasing a trembling doe, obviously knowing that Gina had nowhere to retreat. The girl hissed furiously, leaning against the edge of the sink, trying to avoid contact, while her trembling hands fumbled behind in panic, trying to find at least something with which to defend herself.

The blond man grinned, revealing small teeth, and grabbed Gina by the arm, trying to turn her back to him. She tried to push against his chest with her free hand, but the man was clearly stronger. And when he had almost bent the writhing girl over the sink...

- RED-HAIRED WHORE!!! - Rose was standing in the doorway, blazing with rage. – I always knew how slutty you are! I hate you!!

Michael released the girl almost as soon as he heard Rose's angry scream and stepped aside, trying to pretend that he had nothing to do with what had happened. It seems that he even looked at the drawing on the tile, it would have been completely comical if Gina hadn't been shivering violently, threatening to turn into hysteria.

- You ... look at this... - Gina found the strength to raise her hand, gripping the heavy soap dish with a death grip, which she grabbed a second ago, intending to decorate the blond bastard as much as she could.

- SLUT!! Get out! I don't want to see you! - the stepmother screamed, spluttering.

And Gina, as if in slow motion, saw her hand fly up, from which she had no strength to evade. The suddenly heavy palm slapped loudly on the stepdaughter's cheek so that the girl's head abruptly flew sideways. Gina never let anyone beat her. She would have clung to the hair of this toad-swollen fury, but now…She was so scared, shocked and broken that she could only sob and, pressing her palm to her burning cheek, run out of the bathroom. She stormed down the stairs, yanked open the front door and rushed into the woods as fast as she could.

#silco fic #vampire silco #silco x oc #silco #arcane

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