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silcodependent · 5 months ago

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Sway Chapter 12 Silco x Fem!Reader 7.9K Words - SFW (Mature)

The days passed in a hurried haze filled with rehearsals, costume fittings, prop building, and rebuilding of the Royale Sweet. It kept you moving nearly to the point of exhaustion. Finally rehearsals had moved into the club that was transforming, growing, changing and taking shape before your very eyes. So too was your show, more grand than anything you had worked on before. You could hardly believe how far you’d come from your first meeting with the band. From the first time you had moved across this stage. From the first time those eyes of fire and ice had captivated yours.

The slam of the stage door pulled your attention back to the stage you stood on alone. You were the last here for the third night in a row. Glancing at the clock on the wall, you could hardly believe it when both the hour and minute hand stood together in solidarity over the Twelve. Midnight. Your favorite time of day, but it had snuck up on you as you busied yourself with preparations for reopening in two weeks. Tonight you felt every hour you had worked this past week. Time to go home.

Outside closing the beautiful gold filigree doors that had been installed earlier that week, your key twisted in the lock easily as you made sure it was secure. It certainly painted a pretty picture. Through these new front doors Piltover would find adventure and delight unlike anything they’d ever seen. You’d make sure of it.

A loud crash and the accompanying groan interrupted your thoughts. Turning to see the source of such commotion, you spied a pair of feet hanging out of one the gondolas meant to ferry the Pilties into the Undercity in style. That idea looked to be abandoned by the state of them now. And it definitely wasn’t a Piltie at this hour.

The familiar sound of the groan beckoned you closer for a look.

“Nox?” You inquired from above him, watching his eyes roll in his skull until he found the source of your voice.

He was splayed out on the floor of the gondola, drunk and moaning from his most recent bout with gravity. He had lost. From the state of things he’d been fumbling around inside this gondola for a while now, too inebriated to figure out how to make it go.

“Irene!” He exclaimed with a start before his body betrayed him and gravity took hold again.

“My angel” He slurred quietly to the floor his face was pressed to. This was the worst you’d seen him by far.

“Having a fun night?” You tried your best to suppress the laughter in your voice. Nox was sweet and he played the part of the jester well. That’s why Silco’s comment had come as such a surprise. What did he see in him that you didn’t? Surely he was wrong--

“A PRODUCTIVE night!” Nox nearly shouted from the dirty diamond plate floor.

“So productive you can’t find your way home?”

Nox didn’t bother answering your question, if he even heard it at all. Instead he muttered to himself as you pulled his feet inside the carriage and closed the door after you. You couldn’t leave him here like this. You at least had to get him to the Undercity Proper where his brothers could find him. They were no doubt already looking. Stepping over Nox, you heaved a sigh and the grubby metal lever that caused the gondola to lurch to life to the sound of metallic screams.

Nox stirred at the sound, pulling himself into a sitting position with tremendous effort. His head lolled back on the seat behind him as he peered at you from beneath sagging eyelids.

“Thanks toots, knew you were sweet on me.” His slurring gave way to a snaggle toothed smile, one that couldn’t help but warm your heart. A glint of gold caught your eye from the right side of his mouth. A gold tooth--no a fang. Well that was certainly new. New and expensive.

“I’m worried about you. Don’t go getting any ideas.” You teased. You couldn’t help but to enjoy Nox, in spite of himself.

“No need to worry, doll. Once I get this formula right everything’s gonna change.” His voice had started to lower as though he was fighting back sleep. The rock of the carriage was soothing as you descended from the still light of the stars on the Promenade into the humming glow of the Undercity that welcomed you.

“What formula is that? Vodka and whatever else made it into your glass tonight?”

“I’m not drunk.” he said as he shook his head and released a loud belch, further undermining his statement.

“Of course you’re not.”

The buildings, streets, sidewalks and pathways of the Undercity were in various states of disrepair made more obvious by the close proximity of the gondola scraping by. Yet, somehow the neon lights painted them to be stately monuments protruding from the deep valleys of the mines themselves, reaching up towards the sky like twisted bones of fingers long forgotten. The desperate reach of its people.

The carriage came to a sudden halt causing you to swing back and forth uncomfortably before it slowed enough to dismount. You wretched open the gate before turning to Nox and offering your hand. He would need two and all your strength to pull him off the floor. He bumped into you harshly and the momentum knocked you both out of the gondola and on to the path, kicking dirt up in your attempt to hold him steady. Nox gave you a lazy smile that made you roll your eyes. He was slower than usual but not totally vacant. You had seen him drunk a hundred times at the club, but this felt more centered somehow.

The thought of Nox ‘centered’ caused you to snort a laugh that mostly went unnoticed. You draped his left arm over your shoulders in a sad attempt to help stabilize the both of you. However, this was not his read on the situation.

“Trying to get close, doll? You shoulda just said so.” Nox declared turning on what he believed to be smooth charm. In actuality it was little more than drunk delusion.

“How could I do that when you leave me speechless?” You weren’t sure that the feined sweetness and sarcasm could break through the muddle of his mind in this state but you didn’t have to worry about it for long. A call of Nox’s name pulled both of your attention to two figures coming over the hill ahead. With a wave of relief you realized it was Lucas and Gabe.

“Heyyyyyy!” Nox erupted beside you so loudly you nearly dropped him.

“Nox--” Gabe sighed with exasperation before he was interrupted by his brother.

“Where the hell have you been? You left the lab a mess, a disaster-” Gabe put a hand on Lucas’ shoulder causing him to swallow his rage for the moment.

“Are you alright?” Gabe asked in a focused deliberate voice that confused you. Gabe had always looked after his brothers, took on the role of their leader and keeper but you had never heard him like this.

“I’m grand! I’ve almost cracked it! Too many downers in this batch but if I add in the stim-”

“Enough, Nox.” Gabe cut him off sternly, “Let’s get you home.”

Gabe’s eyes turned to you for the first time during this exchange and his face softened. He seemed tired, something confirmed by exasperated lines that deepened on his face as you handed a muttering Nox off to the caple hands of Lucas, who began roughly pulling him down the street.

“I didn’t think the Princess came down this far” Lucas uttered under his breath.

“It’s cause she wants me. I told you!” Nox proclaimed proudly to the eyerolls of everyone around him.

It was a perfect portrait of the Kane brothers. Nox causing both chaos and problems, Lucas responding with his hot temper and barely constrained rage, Gabriel exhausted by caring for both of them, attempting to rein them in while solving the next problem with a cool head. The bond of their love for eachother the only thing holding them together tightly in this unlikely menagerie.

Gabe placed a light hand on your shoulder, “Thank you for looking after him. I doubt he would have made it back this far without you.”

“Definitely not from what I saw.” You joked, causing both of you to chuckle in the quiet of the night. You didn’t know it was ever this quiet in the Undercity. A familiar comfort settled in between the two of you. He withdrew his hand a little slower, a little softer down your arm before giving you a gentle smile.

As Gabriel turned to leave, you called after him, “I was sorry that I didn’t see you at the meeting a couple weeks ago.”

This stopped him in his tracks. He paused for a moment before turning back to you, his lips in a tight line. It was painful seeing him this way.

“Irene-”

You took a step closer wanting to say something but the words never came. Just more pain and the stilted silence of truths unspoken.

“It’s nothing personal. It’s just--”

“Business.” You interrupted, finishing the phrase you knew all too well. Your eyes traced broken lines on the concrete beneath your feet as you searched for the right thing to say. This wounded you in a way you couldn’t quite understand. Perhaps you missed your front row regulars more than you realized. Perhaps you resented other people's actions and alliances destroying the relationships you’d crafted and created with each night of your time here. Both parties were guilty, but at least Silco was trying. From what you could tell, Silco might have been the only one trying.

Gabe heaved a heavy sigh, his eyes still lingering on you.

“Silco-” He started.

“It’s nothing personal.” You interrupted, frustration tickling the edge of your voice, “It’s just business.”

Your eyes met, an equal exchange of frustration and hurt in each. Gabriel silently nodded, turned and disappeared after his brothers without so much as another word.

You thought about your conversation the whole ride back to the promenade. You could have cried, if you cried. But the tears didn’t come anymore, just haunted thoughts of ‘I told you so’ and ‘you knew better’ and a weight in your chest.

The ache lingered. This is why you had rules. No attachments.

Which made the sight at the top of the platform so bittersweet. Silco.

You’re just happy to see a friendly face, you lied to yourself.

You recomposed your features, tucking in the cracks from tonight's adventures to be dealt with when you were alone with practiced ease. When you could collapse onto your bed under the weight of all this and lick your wounds in private. Now it was time to use the mask you crafted so well.

When the carriage came to a stop you were able to see the slight smile that tugged at the corner of Silco’s lips. His regal countenance at odds with the frame of the gondola you were viewing him from.

“Midnight ride?”

“It occurs to me that I’ve never taken the gondola into the Undercity before.”

Could Silco see the way these last couple weeks had gotten under your skin?

“And?”

“My life has been changed forever. I don’t know how I survived without it.” You wielded your hollow charm and wit in a meager effort to keep the pain at bay.

Was it politeness or preparation that kept him from commenting on your crumbling facade? Or perhaps worst of all he was giving you exactly what you wanted, distance. The easy detachment you yearned for from cities past had abandoned you, and you found yourself craving the soothing comfort of hands that truly knew you. But the castle you’ve built inside your heart was made to keep such things away. Perhaps it had done its job too well.

You cast a fleeting glance down the ravine into the undercity as you stepped on the crunch of gravel on the promenade. Gabe’s words replayed in your mind with the familiar pangs that followed them.

“Rough night with Kanes?”

How?

You turned to him, eyes wide. Did he see you? Such surprise could easily be an overreaction but something about the comment unsettled you. You were only able to stare back into eyes fixed and cold. Not the Silco you were used to. Your mind fumbled for words but the night had taken its toll and though your mouth opened no words came.

“No need to waste a perfectly good lie.” Silco responded to your clumsy speechlessness with an air of authority and a voice filled with soothing certainty. It felt like the stab of a needle in between your ribs. It felt like thinly veiled spite. And after the night you’d had, it was the last thing you needed.

A harsh sardonic laugh left your lips unbidden before you heard yourself saying, “Why bother?” with a sneer that didn’t hide the vitriol he had brought out in you.

You were usually so well measured, witty, charming, smooth. In control. But tonight there was a crack in your armor that left you equally worried about what would get out as what would get in. Nothing good would come of this.

You brushed past Silco roughly but felt a strong hand catch your wrist before you had even made it two steps. Silco held fast to your arm as he swung you back toward him with enough force to knock you to the ground upon collision. But no fall came, your sharp gasp as you felt a firm hand on your lower back pressing you tightly against him and holding you in place.

Silco’s face was as unbothered as if you were simply dancing. His eyes washed over your face taking in your alarmed expression.

“I beg your pardon, that was unspeakably rude of me. I shouldn’t pry. May I?” He spoke low and sweetly in a voice as dark as the deepest waters. Brilliant eyes of fire and water searched your face for an answer but all you were able to manage were short shallow breaths. The press of his long fingers lightened but still held you tightly. This was the closest you’d ever been to Silco.

You should hate it. You should shove him off. Squirm out of his grip. Slap him across the face and tell him where to stick it. But you didn’t. You stayed there, in his arms in perfect stillness, trying to fight the thrill your proximity gave you, but you had so little fight left in you.

“You’re right, you shouldn’t pry.” You replied tursely, unable to meet his eyes.

“But…” You added in a voice so soft you weren’t sure if you had said the word aloud or in your mind.

“But fortunately there’s nothing to pry into.” Heat rose to your cheeks as you felt Silco’s eyes on you, staring into you. It made you flush.

Silco hummed his response, his hands lightly caressing your arm and back. It was soft, and gentle, and warm. And you were so, so tired.

“Are they hurting you?” Silco asked quietly.

Your eyes jumped to meet his in complete surprise. The intensity you had seen there earlier had returned.

“Who? The Kane Brothers?” You asked, confusion making its way into the tone of your voice.

Silco nodded, watching your reaction for a tell, for anything you weren’t saying.

“No! I-I don’t even…” You couldn’t help but look away, searching the ground next to you for the answers you didn’t have.

The smell of leather tickled your nostrils and you felt a smooth gloved finger slide under your chin as Silco turned your face back to his. And you knew instantly when his eyes of fire and ice met yours that he’d found the answer you couldn’t voice. He could see you. Not just read you. It was more than that. It was entirely singular. It terrified you and captivated you. It made you melt.

You stayed frozen in that moment for what felt like an age. But the small tug at the corners of his lips broke your concentration and you were lost to something else completely. Silco hummed his response, idly nodding his head, his hand still lingering on your jawline.

The silence that hung in the air between you was desperate to be broken.

“It’s beautiful at night.” You whispered softly in the small space between your faces. Silco raised a curious eyebrow at you.

“The Undercity,” You clarified, “It’s beautiful at night. I didn’t know it ever got so quiet.”

You watched the warmth in his face grow and spread. First in his eyes, then from his eyes to his lips as his small smile widened into something gentle and warm and rare.

“There’s a lot people don’t know about the Undercity” He replied.

“Tell me about it?” You asked in earnest. The sincerity took Silco back a bit, both of his eyebrows raising at your request. He finally released you. You were immediately struck by the brisk air around you and missed…

You shook your head at the thought. The spell was broken. The pain from earlier returned but it was lighter now, more manageable.

Manageable. You nearly laughed. Manageable trouble was now an optimistic look at whatever was between the two of you. But it didn’t escape your notice that Silco was often either the cause or the cure of most of your torment. Sometimes both.

“Tell you? What do you want to know?” Silco looked at you quizzically but there was a small smile tucked into the corners of his lips. A smile so small it would be easy to miss it if you weren’t looking. But that was the trouble, you couldn’t stop looking.

You held each other's gaze for a long moment, painted in the neon light from the undercity below and the white of the street lights above. Like you were standing on the edge of something big, but you could only see a few feet in front of you. You could only see each other. You could only see him.

“Walk me home.” It was both a command and a question.

His eyes evaluated you again before giving you a single nod and offering you his arm. An unnatural silence accompanied your first steps, feeling each other's presence pressing closely in on one another. You both were dancing on the precipice of an inaudible vulnerability. An understanding that could be measured in each of your breaths, in your steps, in your gait, in the way your hand twisted in his arm, in the way his muscles tensed against your fingers. The silence of yearning. The nervous quiet that signaled the beginning of something. A quiet unquiet.

The crunch of gravel beneath your feet turned to the soft clacks of hard soled shoes on the pavement as you made your way toward your apartment.

“What’s your favorite part of the Undercity? Where’s your favorite place to go?” You resumed tenderly, turning to see his reaction as you continued on. His face was as serene as ever, even with the scars and lidless eye closest to you. He smirked in response to such a question, pulling at the scars and the skin around it.

“Those are two different questions” He responded, his eyes languidly catching yours.

“Fine. Where’s your favorite place to go?” You repeated, your smile creeping helplessly back into your voice.

Silco was quiet, so much so that you started to think that perhaps he hadn’t heard you.

“The Cannery.” He muttered, as if he had a distaste of talking about himself.

“It used to be, anyhow. Before…” He trailed off, eyes tracing the rooftops below as you continued your walk.

“What happened to it?” you asked, breaking his reverie. His eyes snapped back to yours, appraising you again. Deciding how much of himself to share.

“It was destroyed. Blown up.” This time his eyes did not meet yours.

“That’s awful. It’s terrible to lose something you love.” Your heart seemed to break for Silco every time you learned more about him. He hummed his agreement beside you.

“I like to think that I gained more than I lost that day.” He reassured you, the orange of his affected eye swirling brighter with this comment.

“By the docks, underneath all that rumble, there’s a window that looks into the water. Hundreds of feet below the surface, you can see an entire world that no one knows is there. Life, flora and fauna, the most exquisite creatures with power and strength most humans will never understand, existing idly and almost completely unknown. It was beautiful.” Silco’s passion painted a picture that took your breath away, leaving you to wonder if it was the art or the artist that truly moved you.

“And it’s gone now?”

“Only my access to it. That world under water still exists, even when we can’t observe it. Like many worlds, it lives and thrives independently from those around it. Co-existing with us in the place we fish, and pull our boats in, and dump our toxins. ”

It was a dumb question you regretted immediately but his answer made you wonder if you were still talking about the Cannery.

“That sounds like a metaphor.” You replied.

This made him smile.

“Clever girl.” He retorted. You couldn’t help the blush that rose to your cheeks and you hoped the dark of night was enough to conceal it.

“You asked what my favorite part of the Undercity was. It’s Zaun.”

“Zaun?” That was familiar. You had heard that name before, once before. Collapsing balconies and white marble stained with soot flashed before your eyes. That day in the dilapidated theatre when you first heard him speak of revolution and its cost, that’s where you heard it.

“What you, Piltover, and the rest of the world call the ‘Undercity’. I call it the nation of Zaun. Where others see slums and crime and poverty, I see our people. A people that is strong, determined, passionate in spite of the indignities they have suffered at the hands of the ruling class who have no idea what it takes to survive outside their little bubble of protection and privilege. I see innovation in the face of hardship, challenges, and defeat. A true testament to the grit of the soul with each person you pass on the street. I see a nation of people that have thrived under adversity and would reach unforetold heights if Piltover would remove its foot from our neck. If we were free. The free nation of Zaun. Everything I do is in service of that fight. A dream I once shared with many others.” Silco slowed to look out over the neon city below, the nation he was fighting for.

In it contained multitudes you had never experienced, lives you would never know. Hardship was no stranger to you but not like this. Not like the picture he brought to life with his words that left you breathless and in awe. It was rare that you were left speechless but Silco found a way to weave his words under your skin and into your lungs, stealing away all the oxygen it found there. He had made it a habit. He made it look effortless.

You stood there for a moment in the silence, staring down at the buildings in various states of disrepair piercing through the cloud of smog and haze set a glow from the lights below. You wondered what he saw as he gazed down at the same sight. Was it hope? Hope in a place like this?

The impossible, surviving against all odds. There was an unspeakable beauty to it all.

“A dream you once shared?” You repeated curiously, knowing exactly what it meant but not why. Another flash of young Silco facing off with Enforcers on the bridge plagued your imagination and ripped at something inside of you.

“Once, a long time ago. Before Piltover beat its people back into their place with no concern for the lives they took. The lives they ruined. For their people. Many found the price of our freedom too high a cost. They were unwilling to keep fighting to pay it, knowing it would come at personal sacrifice. The blood toll would be theirs or the ones they loved. So many gave up the fight for a better future, for their humanity-- for the relative safety of their own enslavement.” He sighed heavily, eyes still cast over his nation Zaun, a twinge of pain hidden beneath the surface.

You were no longer looking out at the view below. You were looking at him. You couldn’t take your eyes off of him.

“But not you?” You inquired, the reverence in your tone communicated more than how impressed you were at his resolve.

“Not me.” He replied with the hint of a smile tucked into the corners of his lips. He finally pulled his gaze away from Zaun, turning those orbs of fire and ice on you.

It struck you all at once. Why you found his eyes so captivating. They were just like him. The metaphor of Silco’s duality made flesh. The passion, the pain, the scars, the price. And the frigid waters, elegant, and unpredictable. One of his eyes permanently open to the truth of this world, the other heavily lidded with the weight of the hard and cold. It made perfect sense now. What you saw reflected there was undeniably him.

“For better or for worse, I never gave up that fight and I don’t intend to. I also realized what our freedom would cost, sacrifice. It would require getting your hands dirty. It would require blood. The things we do in service of a better tomorrow demand destruction and make monsters out of us all. But there is no freedom, no future without those who are willing to pay that price. Regardless of how much they hate you for it.” He continued on as you resumed your walk, this time at a more languid pace.

The Kane brothers.

Could that be who he meant? Is that what Gabrial had opened his mouth to tell, maybe even warn, you about? You had never heard about the hatred Silco talked about, but you were all too familiar with his reputation. Perhaps fear and hate were not too far apart.

“So that’s why the Kane brothers hate you?” You asked, in spite of your better judgment.

“Perhaps,” Silco chuckled at this. “They are seeking prosperity, a better life for themselves but they fail to see the big picture. Naturally, anything that poses a threat, or hindrance rather, to the work I’m doing to create a better future can’t be allowed to continue.”

“I fail to see how they are a thr--hindrance”, you corrected yourself.

“Do you know what they are making?”

“No,” Your brow furrowed at this question. You had heard snippets of it here and there, mostly in the form hardly coherent rambling from Nox.

Silco hummed his response but didn’t elaborate.

“How I plan to attain my goals may be unorthodox, but there is method in my madness.” He added cavalierly. “I’ll leave it at that to maintain your neutrality.”

His tone undercut his sentiment but you appreciated it nonetheless.

“What a gentleman.” Your feigned sweetness was met with a dark chuckle.

“I’ve extended them far more kindness and courtesy than I’m accustomed to. Far more than they deserve. You think that would mean something. Ungrateful children.” Silco muttered under his breath, talking more to himself than to you. You even caught a glimpse of an eyeroll out of the corner of your eye.

It wasn’t like Silco to hold back, or tolerate any kind competition. You had heard one disturbing rumor after another about what Silco was willing to do to accomplish his ‘goals’. But surely those must be exaggerations. Why else would the Kane Brothers still be operating whatever business they had? Why else would they still be alive?

The last thought forced you to swallow thickly. Silco’s arm was warm wrapped neatly around yours. It was hard to imagine that this enchanting man was the most feared person in the Undercity. It was hard to imagine that he was dangerous. But perhaps that was another trick of his. You knew he was, even if moments like this made you doubt yourself. Rumors aside, you had seen it in small flashes in the expression on his face, or in his eyes. Hell, in the way he grabbed you tonight. That sent a shiver down your spine.

“Cold?” He looked at you slyly out of the corner of his eye. Did he know?

No. How could he know? Impossible.

“Perhaps just a little”, You replied sheepishly. A deflection.

The outline of a light smirk settled into the lines on Silco’s face as he wrapped his arm around you, pulling you closer into him. You couldn’t help the small gasp that escaped you, you just prayed that Silco didn’t hear it. If he had, he made no move to tease you for it. This certainly wasn’t what you had in mind. For the second time tonight you found yourself wrapped tightly in Silcos’ arms. This should make you panic. This should make you squirm. But you didn’t. All you could think about was how warm he was against you and how delightful the light smell of his cologne musk was. Unbidden you laid your head on his shoulder like it was the most natural thing in the world. That was the problem, it was natural.

“Why have you given the Kane Brothers so many chances if they are such problems for you?” It was a question you had been considering for sometime before tonight.

Silco’s eyes cast an amused look down at you as his smirk grew. Was the answer that obvious? Were you missing something?

“Is that a trick question?”

“No…” Your brows furrowed in response. He admitted it was out of character for him. Perhaps you had overstepped? No that couldn’t be it.

You crossed the street closing the distance between you and your apartment building with every step. Your window was closing. The answer to this question would come now or never.

Lifting your head you gave him a look that conveyed how truly lost you were. Silco let out a heavy sigh.

“I have allowed the Kane’s to continue because you are fond of them and want neutrality in your club. I don’t want any action to jeopardize that on my part.” His tone was flat and nearly exasperated. He didn’t even look at you as he said it.

For you?

Inside your chest, you feel your heart skip a beat, mouth hung open in silence. Speechless again. You were only feet from your door now and still words refused to come to you.

“I--” lips moving in a desperate attempt to say something, but still nothing came.

Silco loosened his hold on you as you approached the side of the building, tucking into the alleyway.

No, no, no. You wanted his arm back. You wanted to think of the right thing to say. You wanted more time.

He turned to you in silence. This is where you said goodnight. The panic swelled inside of you as you searched his eyes for the words to capture your thoughts and feelings.

“W-what? Me?” Was all you were able to come up with. Silco must have found your struggle entertaining because took pity on you.

“There are other reasons. Gabriel and I have personal history. But the only one that gave pause was the effect it might have on you.” His eyes cast curiously down on you. There was an unspoken question in his words.

“Thank you. I’m not involved with the Kane Brothers outside of the club but it’s kind of you to consider me at all.”

Silco simply nodded before placing his hand against the wall behind you to lean on.

“Of course not,” He bent his head down to you, nearly whispering in your ear, “No attachments”.

His voice was dark and stirring. The closeness of his body a tease as he caged you in with long, sturdy arms. Silco washed away your resolve bit by bit every time your eyes met. Would there be any left by the time you stumbled back into your apartment?

“It’s never been this hard.” The words slide from your lips before you know that you’ve said them.

Silco’s eyes pressed into you intently, searching, excavating some hidden truth. More noticeably, they were glowing. You were pulled from that thought at the soft sensation of gloved leather on your jaw. It was warm.

His hands suited him perfectly; long, lean, powerful, as you had found out tonight when he was able to pull you into him by the wrist alone. But you’d be lying if you said this was the first time you had thought about his hands. Since that first night at the club when he traced abstract shapes on your skin with the lightest of touch, you’d been curious about what more they could do. Your eyes fluttered closed at the thought, giving into the gentle caress on your face.

It felt divine. No. It felt forbidden. It felt like there was a string inside of you pulling and pulling and you were doing your best to push all your weight against it. Not to be pulled off your feet. Not to be dragged.

“And why is that, I wonder?” His words snap you back to reality. You can’t look at him, though you can feel the heat from his unblinking gaze tickle the skin of your cheek. Those eyes, fire and fury, dissecting you; each look another slice of his scalpel until you were laid bare before him, helpless but to squirm under the horrifying ordeal of being seen.

And yet…

There was a stillness, a steadiness, to him that was hypnotizing. Silco wanted more of you, of that much you were sure. But to what end? Was this the way the spider ensnared the fly?

“I’ve always…I’ve never put down roots completely. I’ve never had a home before”, You gave your answer to the lapels of his coat. Easier, safer, than returning whatever look he was giving that caused goosebumps to appear on your neck.

“Even before…you chose this line of work?” Silco chose his words even more carefully than usual.

“Yes, even when I spent almost all my time fully clothed” Your smile and easy manner at such a question won you a laugh that felt like a symphony. It mercifully broke the tension and you were finally able to meet Silco’s eyes.

They were warm and gentle.

Somewhere in your mind you knew how wrong that should feel. How strange. How impossible. But instead it felt right. You knew exactly who and what Silco was, but not with you. Just like you knew exactly who and what you were with everyone else. But between the two of you there was no denying the natural ease of it all.

“My family traveled constantly for work. I’m not sure we ever had a house, but perhaps I was just too young to remember. And after--” You swallowed around the painful memory.

“Then I lived with my guardian. I had a room there but it was never a home. He immediately sent me off to boarding school, so I only spent a couple of months there out of the year anyhow. Then I graduated and--”

“Moved to Volitord, where you met Remy.” Silco finished your sentence for you. Even in this abbreviated version there were parts of this story that were hard to tell. Silco saw that and swiftly moved you through your own minefields.

“It was easier then. When you moved on so quickly there was little to get attached to.”

“Even in Volitord?” Your eyes snapped to Silco’s, panic beginning to rise in you.

Perhaps Silco knew more about you than he let on. How much more?

The danger of this situation came rushing back to you.

“Volitord was a mistake,” You blurted out harsher than you meant to. You forced a deep breath before you continued in a more even tone, “There were mistakes I made during my time there that I will not allow myself to make again.”

Silco studied your reaction, unflinching in spite of your small outburst.

“Your rules,” He hummed idly. You truly were something on a slab for him to pull apart piece by piece for his own understanding. You were going to be sick.

“Yes-” You went to move towards the door but Silco didn’t give an inch keeping you in his cage.

“What makes the Undercity different?”

Was this some sort of standoff? The brick bit into your back as you pressed against it to get a good look at Silco. Silco, who was capable of being alluring, charming, warm, and terrifying all within the same breath. Even with his touch vanished, he had you locked in place, but for what?

Silco inclined his head at your silence. Had you imagined that warmth or had it actually disappeared that quickly? You closed your eyes and rested your head against the wall behind you. He wasn’t going to let you go without an answer.

“A lot of things”, the desire to lie was strong, but what was the point?

“Everything about this place is different.” You whispered breathlessly into the night. The returning warmth on your cheek caused your eyes to flutter open. Silco was still studying you intently, but now his thumb caressed your cheek bone. You hated the way it made you melt inside. Gods, he was scary.

“Remy told me that you lived in Volitord for a couple of years before he met you.”

Remy. Of course it was Remy. Hell they might have had this conversation before you had ever met Silco. Still, something in you felt that this was not the whole truth. But you were overreacting. Utterly paranoid. Probably because he caused you to let your guard down so much. So easily.

“I’m sorry to hear that you had to spend so much time in a place that held nothing for you.” The tone of his voice was gentle but still you couldn’t look at him. The tops of your ears were pink with embarrassment.

“But I’m glad to know that Zaun, the Undercity, is different. Despite the challenges it may cause to your rules.” The hint of smile in his voice was confirmed as your eyes met his. Captivating.

“The company is certainly better,” You returned his smile with your own, his hand still blessedly warm on your cheek.

“Did you grow up here?” You asked as your heart rate settled from your previous conversation.

Silco nodded, “My whole life has taken place in these streets.”

A concept entirely foreign to you. How could you ask a question about something you couldn’t begin to understand? If only that quelled your curiosity.

“You get to know people when you spend your whole life in one place. Most of the people of the Undercity don’t have a choice. Poverty keeps them there.”

Of course. You silently cursed yourself for not seeing it sooner. Privilege had blinded you to the notion that many people could barely make ends meet with the way Piltover hoarded all their resources, let alone escape to a better life. Or even a nicer part of town. How ignorant.

“That’s how I met Gabriel.” Silco added causally. That broke you from your stupor. The wide eye stare you gave him must have asked the question you had in your head because Silco went on.

“We both worked in the mines together. A place no one would go unless they absolutely have to. Most people found work there. There weren’t many options. There wasn’t much of a choice.”

Silco didn’t mean for that last part to sting but you felt the sharpness of your own stupidity stab at you.

“He was just a kid when started working there. A child. You’re more likely to find kids in the mines than in a classroom here, it’s disgraceful. The danger alone-- None of us should have been there at the age we were. We were all too young, but Gabe--” He shook his head and sighed.

“He could barely lift a pickaxe. I had to steal towels from the resource room just so we could pad his helmet enough to keep it out of his eyes.”

He called him Gabe. The images of a young Silco and child Gabriel overtook you. Every time he let slip something about his past, you felt another sliver of your heart shatter. Now, to know they were friends. That Silco looked out for Gabe.

“What happened?” You could scarcely believe the sound of your voice as your thought escaped your lips.

“Time mostly. I left the mines to work on a free Zaun. He didn’t. He stayed. He had two brothers to look after. Our paths parted. By the time they came together again Gabriel had his hands in a bit of everything, desperate to find an endeavor that kept his brothers fed and out of the same dangers he was forced into.”

“But--Why--?” The question hung in the air despite your inability to complete it.

“Why didn’t he work for me?”

You nodded weakly. This story, this night, this man had truly taken it out of you.

“I did offer him a job after I took the Underground. But he declined. I suspect it has something to do with the deadweight he insists on toting around everywhere he goes.” Silco didn’t elaborate. He didn’t need to. Nox and Lucas.

The more you considered it, the more you realized how right Silco was. You hated to admit it but Gabriel was the only one of them with any real potential. Lucas was a hard enough worker and certainly strong enough to make a name for himself in the mines, but not anywhere else. Nox was a fuck up from start to finish, loveable as he may be. If his brothers hadn’t kept such a close eye on him he would have ended up in Stillwater or worse by now. They each had endearing qualities you had enjoyed but Gabriel was the only one that was employable. The idea of Nox as one of Silco’s goons nearly made you laugh. He wouldn’t last the week. He might not live through the week.

That thought stole the laughter from your throat. Silco was dangerous and he didn’t tolerate nonsense. The details he had given you tonight painted a portrait completed now by the flushing hues and shadows of his relationship to the Kanes.

“But Gabriel’s latest endeavor,” Silco continued, “could have grievous effects on the Undercity. On the cause. That’s not a risk I’m willing to take.”

His eyes regarded yours meaningfully in an apology he would never make. I’m sorry for what I might have to do.

“I am fond of them,” You stated, finally finding your voice. “I have enjoyed them in my club. They have always treated me well, they are great audience members, and I find them amusing. I wish to see no ill come to them. But that is where my investment, my attachment to them ends.”

“Hmm, if not them-- then what are all these rule breaking attachments you’ve alluded to tonight? I wonder…”

Oh he knew damn well. How you wished you hated him for it. The spark ignited again and the dance continues.

“It’s never been this hard…” He quotes your word back to you. Bastard.

“It must be the climate,” You tease in response to him toying with you, “The weather here is just so temperate, who wouldn’t get attached?” You smile sharply. Two could play this game.

“Somehow I doubt that” he said with a light chuckle. “It’s the creativity.”

The creativity. Gods he was right. Your days and nights spent working on your shows flashed before your eyes. The hours you spent with Remy designing the club, creating the business plan. That very first night where you had converted first timers into believers, then into full time members of your congregation. Your ability to create something here, something entirely your own gave you the attachment you had so feared. Your head was the last to get the memo, as your heart had begun weeks ago, perhaps with the first time you witnessed that volcanic eye and its power to see right through you.

“It’s the creativity,” You nodded. “I’ve created something here, something singular, given it life, given it my blood and watched it flourish. And the Undercity gave me the opportunity to do so. Me and its people have watered and cared for my creation and now it’s grown roots. And I’m so grateful.”

Silco’s gaze softened by the smallest fraction at your words, struck by the sentiment.

There was an understanding. An understanding between the city’s most unknowable. Could it be?

His hand still held your face and it took everything in you not to give into his touch. Your hand flexed at your side. You wanted to reach for him. To trace the scars on his face with your fingers. Feel his warmth and the softness of his perfectly kept hair. But you knew where that would lead. Images of your touch on his face gave way to his lips on yours. To your back pressed against the biting brick of the building. The two of you moving together in the darkness of an alley over the Undercity. Tawdry and desperate and beautiful.

A temptation you had to resist with your entire being. You had broken enough of your rules to know that trouble was already close at hand without courting it.

Your eyes fluttered open to find his dual color eyes set on you with placid interest. Where would this lead?

Where could this lead?

“Thank you.” you exhaled gently, raising your hand to his to remove it. But not before another urge overtook you.

Your lips pressed a soft kiss to the inside of his wrist with all the tenderness of this night together. Your eyes flickered to his as he took you in. Your lips igniting something burning tightly behind his eyes as he regarded you curiously as you lowered his hand away from your face.

“I appreciate your respect for my neutrality. And my rules.”

That earned you a dark chuckle. Silco sized you up as he took a step back, giving you enough space to escape.

“And for walking me home. This has been lovely.” You couldn’t fight the sweetness in your eyes as you took in Silco’s lithe form before you.

He hummed his agreement without sparing a word. Your eyes locked on one another. Both wanting more.

“But now all I can think about is getting in my bed,” Your excuse made.

“Funny,” he retorted, looking you up and down, “That’s all I’m thinking about too.”

Heat rose to your face and spread across your chest as your breath hitched in your lungs. You caught his meaning, alright. And you couldn’t resist the smile that splayed itself from one side of your face to the other. Flirt.

Laughter escaped your lips as you shook your head, beginning toward the door of your building pausing only to whisper sweetly into Silco’s ear as you passed by.

“Well in that case, sweet dreams.”

#silco #silco x reader #silco x you #arcane #slow burn #eventual smut #burlesque #arcane league of legends #undercity #silco smut #sway

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fireya-x · 6 months ago

Text

luna sanguinis // CHAPTER I: nox fatalis

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John isn't the party type. But a Halloween invitation to a secluded manor and an encounter with the alluring Victoria prove to be a temptation he can’t resist.

[4k words]

cw: blood, violence

nox fatalis

“Oi, cowboy!” A way too enthusiastic voice boomed from his right, and John Price looked up to see Soap approaching. He blinked, almost rubbing his eyes to fully take in the costume his comrade was wearing.

“Soap, are you wearing a bloody skirt ?” another voice beat John to it. He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose before reaching into his jacket pocket to retrieve a cigar. Why did he agree to go to a Halloween party, of all places?

“It’s a kilt, you fuckin’ uncultured dog,” Soap shot back, his Scottish accent thick, turning to face Gaz. “What are you supposed to be? The saddest vampire in town?”

“Dracula,” Gaz flashed his fake plastic dentures with a smirk. “Isn’t that obvious?”

“Sorry, the runny eyeliner threw me off. It makes you look miserable, not threatening.” Johnny laughed, then turned to John, giving him a once-over. “Nice costume, cowboy.”

“Gunslinger,” Price corrected, his voice flat.

“What?” Gaz asked, looking confused.

“Not a cowboy,” John repeated.

“Practically the same thing,” a low, raspy voice joined them, and John rolled his eyes.

He turned to see Ghost approaching, clad all in black, his skull balaclava and skeleton gloves the only concession to the holiday. “The dress code was Halloween costume, Simon, in case you missed the cue.”

Ghost gestured to his face. “This has to do. I scared enough kids on the way.”

Price sighed audibly. “I need a fucking drink if I am supposed to survive this. Y’all owe me for dragging me here.”

“Oh come on, it will be fun. Snacks, drinks and maybe some lovely women - what’s not to love?” Gaz clapped a hand on Price’s shoulder, always the optimist.

“Is that a skirt, Johnny?” Ghost’s voice rasped through the chatter of nearby partygoers, catching their attention.

“Fuck all of you,” Soap replied, holding his finger up to point at each of them in turn. Then, turning to Ghost, he added, "At least I put some effort into this."

Ghost just huffed and grabbed an envelope that Gaz held out. “How’d you get invitations anyway?”

Gaz flashed his fake teeth in a dramatic grin. “I know some people who know some people. This is the most prestigious party in the country, you should be grateful.”

“I am so grateful,” Price muttered sarcastically, taking a long drag of his cigar before discarding the butt and grinding it out with his boot. “Let’s go before I change my mind.”

They turned toward the imposing front gate of the mansion. It was an old, stately building, quintessentially English, with a rose garden stretching out to either side. Price had expected over-the-top Halloween decorations, but the decor was surprisingly tasteful. Candles flickered in ornate lanterns, eerily realistic skulls were perched on stone pillars, and real ravens perched on the wrought iron fence, their caws echoing through the driveway that circled a towering willow tree.

He had to admit, there was a certain prestige, a sense of history, that hung about the place. Why he’d agreed to come, he still didn’t know. He would have much preferred mission reports, a good whiskey, and a cigar in the quiet of his office. He was lucky he’d even found this old outfit buried in the back of his closet - leather jacket, fake revolvers, cowboy hat, and boots that were more for show than practicality these days.

The mansion seemed to loom over them, its dark windows like watchful eyes. Soap was openly gawking, while Gaz wore a knowing smirk that suggested he’d been here before. They climbed the short flight of steps leading to the massive oak double doors, flanked by two imposing figures in black suits who were checking invitations.

“Maybe if we’re lucky, we’ll get to chat with the hostess,” Gaz murmured, handing his envelope to one of the men who barely glanced at it before nodding curtly, granting him entrance. “She’s a bloody smoke show,” he added in a low voice, earning a dramatic eye roll from Price.

John handed his own invitation over, meeting the guard's gaze with his usual intensity. The man’s eyes flicked to the revolvers in Price's holsters. “They’re fake,” Price said, already reaching for them and offering them to the guard for inspection.

To his surprise, the man just grunted and nodded, gesturing for Price to enter. Holstering his weapons, Price stepped inside, following Gaz into the grand foyer. He paused, taking in the opulent surroundings. It was a strange mix of old-world elegance and modern sophistication. Centuries-old tapestries hung alongside abstract art, and antique furniture was arranged with an eye for minimalist design. It felt surprisingly welcoming, despite the sheer size of the place.

After everyone was admitted inside, they all headed straight for the bar, dying to have drinks for the night. Price needed something stronger than the lukewarm champagne being offered on silver trays by circulating waiters.

“Whiskey, neat.” He barked the order to the bartender, a pale, skinny man with nervous eyes, who hurried to pour him a generous measure.

“Never been to one of these fancy dos before, eh?” Gaz asked, leaning against the bar.

“Can’t say I make a habit of it.” Price replied, downing half his whiskey in one long swallow, letting the familiar burn settle in his chest.

“You’d be surprised,” Gaz said with a wink. “There’s more to these high-society types than meets the eye.”

Soap had been quiet, his eyes wide as he took in the entirety of the place. “Aye, and some right mental costumes.” He jerked his head towards a group of guests dressed as mythical creatures, their outfits more resembling something out of a fever dream than a Halloween party.

Ghost, as always the silent observer, was leaning against a pillar, his skull balaclava a stark contrast to the brightly coloured masks and outlandish outfits surrounding him. He watched the crowd with a predator's intensity, his gaze missing nothing.

While his comrades continued chatting about all the costumes, his eyes followed the impressive staircase that separated the main foyer from the second level, until they landed on her .

She was standing at the top of the grand staircase, her figure framed by the golden glow of the crystal chandelier. Her gown, a deep red that seemed to absorb the light, clung to her curves, accentuating the slimness of her waist and the fullness of her hips. Her dark hair cascaded down her back like a waterfall of ink, and her skin – so pale it seemed to glow in the dim light – was flawless, spared by the passing of time. She wasn’t wearing a costume, not really, she didn’t need to. She didn’t need the theatrics; she was the spectacle.

Price felt his breath catch in his throat. Time seemed to stop. The noise of the party, the chatter of the guests, the music, all faded away, leaving only the steady thump of his own heart.

“Bloody hell,” he muttered, unable to tear his eyes away.

“Told you she was a smokeshow,” Gaz leaned in, a smug grin on his face.

Price ignored him, his gaze fixated on the woman on the stairs. It was more than just her beauty, though, that alone was enough to stop a man in his tracks. There was something else about her, something that drew him to her like a moth to a flame. A power, an intensity, that he’d never encountered before. It was more than just physical attraction; it was a pull, a magnetic force that went straight to his bones.

He cleared his throat. “Who is she?”

“Victoria Di Corvo. The hostess. She owns the place.”

The conversation, though spoken in hushed tones, drifted towards you above the noise of the party. You followed the direction of it, and turned your head to find the source. And that’s when his scent hit you, too – it was like it suddenly called out to you. Primal, spicy, wild, full of strength. Raw and untamed like the deepest, darkest corners of your soul.

You felt a jolt of excitement, a thrill that sent a shiver down your spine. It had been centuries since you'd felt such a powerful pull, such an undeniable connection.

He stood by the bar, tall and broad-shouldered, his black pants and gray leather jacket doing little to conceal the power of his frame. His cowboy hat shadowed his eyes, giving him an air of quiet danger that made your heart skip a beat.

“Never seen her before.” The man’s voice was rough with an undertone of curiosity.

“She’s not the most social one, it is said.” His friend said, with an easy charm, which seemed like a gift that gave him the ability to slip into conversations easily, blending into the crowd.

You raised a hand, a small, elegant gesture that summoned your closest companion and most loyal servant, Beth, to your side. She moved with a grace born of centuries of service, her eyes never leaving yours.

“Yes, my lady?” she asked, her voice a soft murmur.

“Spare his friends, tonight,” you instructed, your gaze never leaving Price.

“Do you think –” Beth began, her voice hushed.

“I don’t know,” you cut her off, your voice laced with a hint of weariness. “And I don’t want to get my hopes up.”

“I’m sorry, my lady. I didn’t mean to assume,” Beth murmured apologetically.

You sighed. “Just make sure his friends are safe. They may live, if he lives. They seem important to him.”

“Of course, your majesty,” Beth bowed her head.

Your gaze returned to Price. He was watching you, his eyes locked on yours. It was as if you could taste him with a single glance, the intensity of his presence overwhelming. His scent was more potent, more exquisite than any of the other humans in the room. Their scents, while intoxicating in their own way, were sweet and naive. His was something else entirely.

Hope, a dangerous, forbidden thing, flickered within you. Was it wrong to have hope? Probably.

But you couldn’t afford to be wrong anymore. The curse that bound you, the curse that made you queen of all creatures, living and dead, was a double-edged sword. It gave you power, immortality, but it came at a terrible price. Your life was tied to the Blood Moon, and each year, it demanded a sacrifice to maintain its power. A sacrifice of blood.

For centuries, you’d endured this burden, keeping the balance between the human and vampire worlds. A balance that prevented chaos, that kept the darkness at bay. But with each passing Blood Moon, the curse grew stronger, the hunger more intense.

The lavish party, the carefully crafted disguise for the brutal ritual to come – it was all a desperate attempt to cling to life, to maintain an equilibrium. One that only you could uphold. You were its core, the nexus point between light and darkness.

Watching every guest dance, celebrate, feast, and drink, oblivious to their fate, filled you with a melancholy that had become as familiar as your own heartbeat. They didn’t know that, either way, their lives were in your hands.

If you fell, the world would fall with you.

But if you could find your king, your mate, to rule at your side – your strength would be bound, the need for sacrifice eliminated. But every time you'd sensed a possibility, a flicker of hope in the blood of a human male, he'd failed the test. Each failure, each death, had chipped away at your hope, leaving you weary and vulnerable.

Your gaze remained locked on Price. He was still watching you, his eyes holding yours with a steady intensity that both intrigued and excited you. He smirked and raised his glass to you before taking a sip of his drink. The simple act, the way his throat moved as he swallowed, was strangely sensual. Your fangs ached, calling to the predator within you.

Leaning further over the railing, you smiled back at him, a slow, deliberate curve of your lips. You knew you held a certain power over human men. It was one of the many gifts that came with your lineage.

Without breaking eye contact, you turned and walked towards the gardens.

He followed. Of course, he did. You didn’t even have to try. You heard his footsteps, the faint, steady beat of his heart behind you, as you stepped out onto the terrace and leaned against the railing, overlooking the moonlit expanse of the garden.

“Enjoying the party, cowboy?” you asked, your voice low and smooth as velvet.

“Gunslinger, actually, ma’am,” he corrected, his voice a deep rumble.

“Oh?” you tilted your head, intrigued. “And what makes a gunslinger different from a cowboy?” You knew the answer, obviously, being alive during the wild times you spent at countless saloons, but you wanted to hear it from him, anyway.

“A gunslinger is more precise. More deadly. Very skilled with firearms,” he explained. “I like to keep people informed.” His accent intrigued you. And the way he corrected you, it wasn’t meant to be demeaning. Simply informative. It was refreshing.

“Is that just part of the costume, or are you actually skilled with guns?”

“I’m a Captain in the military. SAS, to be precise. John Price,” he said, stepping closer.

He couldn’t know why he told you the truth. He simply felt compelled to. It was so easy to sway a human’s mind, to make them reveal their secrets. But with him, it felt different. You didn’t even have to try. As if he wanted to tell you, wanted to offer himself to you.

“You’ve never been here before,” you stated. It wasn’t a question, it was a fact. You could sense it in the way he moved, the way he looked at everything with a mix of curiosity and caution.

“I’m not the party type,” he admitted.

“Yet you seem to be enjoying yourself a lot.”

He chuckled, a low, rumbling sound. “If you can call sipping a drink and watching ridiculous costumes enjoyment, sure.” You noticed the wrinkles that formed at his eyes when he smiled.

He joined you at the railing, his presence beside you so incredibly livid. You could hear the steady beat of his heart, a rhythm that seemed to echo in your own chest. The scent of him was so intoxicating – cedarwood and tobacco, but beneath that, a primal musk that spoke of strength and untamed desire. It was a scent that resonated deep within you, awakening something ancient and powerful.

Something you hadn’t felt in centuries.

“Are you not enjoying your own party?”

You turned to face him, and the world tilted on its axis.

His eyes, as blue as a winter sky, locked onto yours, and a shock of recognition, as sharp and undeniable as a lightning strike, went through you. This was him. Yours. Your mate.

It was written in the depths of his eyes, in the way his scent wrapped around you like a promise, in the very essence of his being. The one you’d waited centuries for, the one who would complete you, who would make you whole.

He was here.

Your breath caught in your throat. You couldn't tear your gaze away. It was as if you were seeing him for the first time, seeing through the layers of his human facade to the soul that mirrored your own. A soul that had been searching for you, just as you had been searching for it, across lifetimes and continents.

A wave of possessive joy surged through you, so fierce it made your heart ache.

You shook your head. Despite all the feelings and signs the universe seemed to give you, you couldn’t be too sure, he had to prove himself worthy first.

“It’s complicated,” you finally managed to say, your voice husky with emotion.

He frowned slightly, his gaze searching yours as if trying to unravel the mystery you presented. He was so close now, you could feel the heat radiating from his body, smell the faint sweetness of his breath. His hand brushed yours as he shifted his weight, leaving a trail of elecrictiy on your skin.

His gaze flickered to your lips, and you saw a flash of desire in his eyes, a hunger that mirrored your own. He leaned in, and for a moment, you thought he was going to kiss you.

Then, just as quickly, he pulled back, his expression clouded with confusion.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled, shaking his head as if trying to clear it. “I don’t know why I feel so…” He trailed off, his breath coming in short, sharp gasps. His hands were fisted at his sides, his chest rising and falling rapidly.

He was fighting it, you realized. Fighting the pull, the connection that he couldn't understand.

You stepped back from him, breaking the spell that had held you both captive. “So, you’re a skilled fighter?”

“You could probably say that,” he replied, his gaze sharpening. “Why do you ask?”

You’d have to risk it. 678 years and no chance, what could be one more year added to the pile? It would be a shame if your assumptions were wrong yet again, but what did it matter? Humans would die that night either way, it would just be a shame that he would be among them. You’d like to get to know him a little better, his eyes told you more than he could have in a matter of a few seconds. He probably had stories to tell that could keep you entertained for a while. His scent was exciting, a strong mix that you longed to breathe in, to savour. And the way he’d looked at you, the hunger in his eyes – you'd imagine he’d be more than inclined to kiss you. It would indeed be a shame to lose it all, simply because you dared to believe for yet another chance.

But did you have a choice? Not really. It was the cruel irony of the curse – your survival demanded sacrifice. Was it selfish? Incredibly so. But the cost of your demise would be far greater. You had to be selfish, not just for yourself, but for everyone.

You couldn’t tell him the truth. With a subtle gesture, you raised a hand, signalling to your guards who were hidden in the shadows of the garden. They emerged silently, moving with an unnatural grace that hinted at something other than human.

Price, ever alert, noticed their approach immediately. “Did I say something to offend you?” he asked, his brow furrowing slightly.

You froze, stunned by his reaction. That was his first thought? Not that he was surrounded by creatures , but that he might have said something wrong? You met his gaze, and saw genuine concern in those blue eyes.

The pang of regret was almost unbearable. It had been so long since you’d encountered such genuine concern, such selfless care.

It had been forever since you felt this honest care for you, this genuine concern for your feelings. It had always been just a quick encounter for their pleasure, for their needs. Nobody had asked about yours, absolutely genuinely so, in decades.

“I’m sorry.” You whispered, before taking a step back from the railing, and turned away. It was barely audible in the music filled air, but Price heard it — a hint of regret in that tone sent a chill down his spine, as he tried to rationalize the sudden shift in your demeanour. It didn’t match the heat that had been building between you just moments ago.

If he really was the one, he’d have to survive.

If he really was a fighter, he would.

Or at least that was what you told yourself.

You stepped even further away, putting more distance between you and him. He watched, confused, as he was circled by shadowy figures. They moved with unnatural grace, and their eyes were glowing with a hunger that made him be fully alert in a split second.

“What the hell —?” he muttered, his glass slipping from his grasp and shattering against the stone patio. He didn’t have time to process the situation before they were upon him.

As the guards attacked, a surge of power, raw and untamed, pulsed through your veins. It was his power, his life force, echoing through the bond that was already forming between you. It was unlike anything you’d ever felt before.

You looked up at the moon as it began to shift, a slow bleed of crimson spreading across its silver face.

As soon as you had given the silent command with the raise of your hand, the true night had begun.

Inside the mansion, Beth glided through the throngs of guests, a phantom in a sea of revellers. She found Price’s friends – Soap, still boisterous in his kilt, Gaz, charming his way through a group of costumed women, and Ghost, a silent observer at the edge of the crowd – and, with a few carefully chosen words, lured them away. An exclusive after-party, she’d hinted, just for them and their cowboy friend. They followed willingly, oblivious to the darkness gathering outside.

But you had no interest in them as the other creatures began to feast.

Your gaze was fixated on the man in front of you. He had faced many impossible odds, and he noticed quickly that the men surrounding him weren’t ordinary men.

Moving with the precision of a soldier, his body was a weapon honed by years of training. He didn’t need guns, he fought with his hands that spoke of deadly efficiency, every blow calculated to maximize damage. He was fighting for his life, as was the purpose of this test.

He wasn’t even panicking, just confused, as you saw in his eyes as he took in the situation. It was as if you could read his mind as it went through quick calculations and assessments to analyse threats and exploiting weaknesses.

One of your guards lunged, fangs glinting in the red shimmering moonlight, and John met the attack head-on. He didn’t even flinch from the creature's superhuman strength but used his own weight to his advantage, pivoting on his heel and sending the attacker crashing into the marble ground.

A smile of fascination played on your lips, the sound of the fight was music to your ears, especially the rush of blood in his human flesh. Surviving the attack of one vampire was already a promise more than anyone had withstood before him.

Two more came at him, and he met them equally with a ruthless grace that made your blood sing. He ducked under the blows, his fist connected with a crack against a jaw. He made quick work of the other one, too, using the guard's own momentum to send him over the railing.

With each passing moment, the connection between you intensified. You could feel his pain, his determination, the surge of adrenaline coursing through his veins. And the scent of his blood – oh, it was intoxicating. Like the finest wine and the most potent drug. The spice of it shot through your system like a wildfire, it felt almost too strong, too overwhelming — yet so incredibly intimate and familiar, even though you had never met this man before in your life.

But also, his blood reminded you that he was still just human, after all. Now that it was running free, as he used his last strength to fight against more of your guards, it was mingling with the scent of cigars and the whiskey that he drank, and turned it into an irresistable concoction. The more he fought, the more you realized he was everything you craved, everything you needed — strong, defiant — as if he was singing a siren song to your soul.

With every drop of his blood that spilled onto the moonlit marble, the ground of your home, the connection between you sparked, and you were absolutely, undeniably sure.

Price staggered, his vision blurring. He’d taken down at least four of them now, but he was wounded, fatigued and dying. His clothes were torn, his cowboy hat long gone, and blood soaked his shirt. And as he felt a sharp sting of pain in his side, he knew he was losing too much blood. That was it. Whatever it was. He came here not really expecting a good time, but dying here, in some English garden of a lavish mansion, surely hadn’t been among the plan.

Just as he braced himself for the final blow, as he felt hot breath on his neck, a strong commanding voice, your voice, cut through the night.

“Enough!” You shouted, at the attacking guard's side in a flash, your movements a blur, as your hand closed around the guards' throat in a grip that could crush stone. You’d stopped him from biting him at the last second, with a surge of possessive fury that you had never felt before.

“He’s mine.” You hissed, your eyes blazing, and fear shot through the poor young vampire's face. “Nobody has his blood but me .”

The guard whimpered, and you released him with a shove. He scrambled back, taking an exaggerated bow as he did.

“Leave us. Make sure you feed to survive the night.” You commanded the remaining of them, and with sharp bows of their heads, they joined the rest of your court inside the mansion.

Price collapsed to his knees, gasping for air, his body screaming in pain. His chest was slowly rising and falling in shallow breaths, but his pulse still beat. You were suddenly there, kneeling in front of him, your fingers lightly tracing the line of his jaw, running through the blood soaked beard.

He looked at you, and you expected fear in his eyes, but there was nothing of that sort. There was a soft gaze as his eyes found yours, he was staring at you almost admiringly, and you knew.

He really must have felt it too. The connection. The pull.

The strength he displayed against superhuman creatures wasn’t bestowed upon just anyone.

He was it.

He was both your greatest hope and only salvation.

He was your king.

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aziraphales-library · 6 months ago

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Lost Fic #204

1. I’ve been struggling to find a fic I read in the last month or two. It was on AO3 and I believe multiple chapters where Crowley was captured and made into a caged roadside attraction as a “beast with yellow eyes”. Aziraphale ends up seeing fliers or posters about the new local attraction and buys a ticket to come and check if it really is Crowley. I remember an overall happy ending with Aziraphale bringing Crowley home. Also, the captor kept control of Crowley with some metal rod and he might have summoned Crowley - I’m not certain. I could’ve sworn I found this fic through the blog’s kidnapping tag but had no luck. Any help would be appreciated - thank you for your work! - anon

2. Hello! first of all I just wanted to say the work y'all do is amazing, insanely helpful for the community and new fans. anyways I'm hoping to get some help to find a lost work, tried every single tag possible but I can't find it, I have a good description so if anyone knows this one pls lmk It's explicit (E), not a human au, Aziraphale and Crowley bump into each other a costume party, C is dressed as an angel and A as an demon. C stole aziraphale's halo to use on his costume and A stole C's demon trident (I think) for his costume. They banter and bicker a bit and then have sex. also aziraphale is using a demon tail plug. these are the only things I remember, most tags I try I couldn't find it so I think it might not be properly tagged. Thank you!!! - anon

3. Hey!! I love your guys blog. I lost a fic I really enjoyed. Aziraphale and Crowley hung out together starting from Eden. Were really close with Adam and Eve and were coming to town for eves birthday. They had a house on the outskirts of town that was built after they scared the population threatening some rapist. The children call crolwey moon mother. The kids were pretty sure Aziraphale and Crowley were married. Thank you for everything you do! - @azariah-z-fell

4. hello, I'm looking for an aziracrow fic, I don't remember the title or the author name but I have this blurb: "“For a long time,” Aziraphale admitted. “Everything we’ve done, we’ve done for a long time,” Crowley said. “Like loving you, I’ve done for as long as I’ve known you.” Aziraphale kissed him a second time." And "Aziraphale healed him miraculously, even as he held Crowley tight and pressed a kiss to his back in relief." It's like a 5+1 fic in which they show Crowley giving azi kisses through the eras but never on the lips and then azi kisses crowley on the mouth. Thank you - @leith-428

5. Thank you so much for all your hard work mods!! I can't seem to find a ficlet I read a while ago [between first and second season being released] on Tumblr. It was of Crowley reacting to Aziraphale's death and focusing on the bit with how powerful his imagination is. He just couldn't imagine a world without Aziraphale and so reality kept shuddering, almost breaking, until God sighed and said "fine, just this once" and brought Aziraphale back to life. - @nova-nox

If you know any of these fics please include the number in your reply! Thank you :)

- Mod D

#good omens #lost fic #ineffable husbands #mod d

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morikorii · 5 months ago

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inkycap costume for Nox

#my art #ocs #nox

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alicethekindone · 5 months ago

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Make way for the biggest Ice cream!

I'm the silliest costume in this party!

@james-the-amazing-potter @lilyevansoffical @pandoras-nox @siriuslynotadog @lifeofthe-barty @little-king-official @wormy-loves-ch33se @marls-mckinn0n @severusprince-snape

#marauders roleplay #florence fortescute ice cream parlour #no I'm not on the menu

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james-the-amazing-potter · 5 months ago

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Change of costume!

Thoughts hoes? @hjonesworld @lilyevansoffical @lifeofthe-barty @little-king-official @alicethekindone @pandoras-nox @marls-mckinn0n @cas-not-the-band @wormy-loves-ch33se @siriuslynotadog @xeno-graphical @mystical-magical-me

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haveyouseenthisskeleton · 1 year ago

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So I saw this https://www.tiktok.com/t/ZT8SQNPe9/

And was wondering what would the skellys reaction to this happening to them (a one time thievery)

A link straight to the video!

Undertale Sans - He's not even mad. He can't believe his eyes and just laughs about it. He will for sure be the one who shares it on social media. That's comedy gold. He's still teleporting to the neighbor's house to get his package back. There are like three houses in the street and it's clearly not the old grandma who did it. Nice try though

Undertale Papyrus - ??????? He's so confused. He got the notification at work, way too late to stop the robber, but he certainly didn't expect to see this as a recording. He completely forgets the robbery, he needs to share this with Undyne.

Underswap Sans - Hell no! He jumps by the window straight on the man who screams in fear as Blue tries to snatch his package out of the robber's hands. He doesn't care about the disguise, his police officer instincts are too strong for you.

Underswap Papyrus - Hum... He's unsure about this. It's annoying, because his new video game console was in that package, but at the same time he's a bit scared to run after a cone. He's not even sure who's hiding under it! What if they're stronger than him? By the time he finally decides to do something, the robber is far away.

Underfell Sans - He growls and runs outside to fetch his package. Both the cone and the skeleton start to play tug-of-war with the package, hoping the other one will give up. However, Red is a dirty cheater and won't hesitate one second to suddenly send a bunch of bones into their legs. He's clever!

Underfell Papyrus - Not on his watch. He runs at full speed behind the cone, eyes injected with determination. The cone thought it was fun at first, but not anymore. That skeleton is crazy and throwing blasters at them! The poor guy hiding under the cone is now running for their life, screaming for help so someone frees them from Edge's murderous chase.

Horrortale Sans - He smiles creepily at the thief, then opens the portal of the farm. 20 very pissed-off roosters in heat start to chase the cone and attack their legs. Oak calmly walks to them to get the package back, then lets them to their fate as they're begging to be saved.

Horrortale Papyrus - Since you're looking at the floor, you didn't see he was literally standing there. The protective cone above your head suddenly... disappears. Willow picked it up. Busted. The thief is a little too impressed by the size of the skeleton and gives him back his package. They're not leaving before a two hours long lecture though.

Swapfell Sans - Lol. He grabs the guy by the soul and brings them back to him. He gets rid of their costume and politely asks for his package. The man obeys. Nox carefully puts the package down at his entrance. He then walks to the thief and kicks them in the knees. That's what you deserve.

Swapfell Papyrus - The guy thinks they're safe after a few minutes and puts the package down. Suddenly, Rus, disguised into a bush, runs to the package, absorbs it with his bush and runs back home with it. The thief is so confused about what just happened.

Fellswap Gold Sans - Lol. A bone flies through the cone's shoulder, pinning them against a wall. As the poor guy cries in fear and pain, Wine picks his package up again, calls the police, and leaves, letting them here. Good luck with that.

Fellswap Gold Papyrus - :( But his art supplies... He's sad. He's not fast enough to catch them. He lays on his back on the front step and whines pitifully until Wine notices him and decides to save his art supplies. Yeah! Coffee is back on his feet in seconds!

#undertale #underswap #underfell #horrortale #swapfell #fellswap gold #sans #papyrus #undertale ask blog #undertale asks #undertale imagines #undertale headcanons

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silcodependent · 2 months ago

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Sway Chapter 16

Silco x Fem!Reader

4K Words - NSFW (18+ Violence) Warning: Violence, Sexual Assault, Attempted Rape

If you would like to skip potentially triggering content stop reading at the line: “They threw me--ME--out! Bullshit! I told them--you were mine but they didn’t listen. I told them. I told them you were mine.” Nox spoke quickly and quietly, in looping phrases. Was he talking to you or to himself? And pick up at the last 2 lines of this chapter.

The audience was a live wire and so were you. The audible gasps of the crowd reached your ears in the rafters as you were lowered in bit by sparkling bit, seated elegantly on a life-size crescent moon. The notes rang out from the piano casting a spell of silence throughout the room. The overture gave way to beginning notes of the melody, breathing life back into those who looked on struck with awe. The familiar tune of Only a Paper Moon started quietly on the piano, the two of you alone in front of the masses. Your sweeping movements atop your celestial chariot was reminiscent of something ancient and divine. A presence both fully forgotten and intrinsically recognized in the collective memory of those looking on.

The soft notes of the piano gave way to the surging energy and sound of the rest of the band unveiled by the drawing of scarlet velvet curtains. The music moved from verse to pre-chorus to chorus as you proceeded to perform, to swing, to strip from your perch sending glittering pieces of your costume raining down on the audience below. The bellowing cheers that greeted you nearly drowned out the band. A pity really, the music was truly beautiful and adapted for a full band just for tonight. They had been practicing for weeks. But it was hard to complain looking down at the faces below thoroughly immersed in the world you had created.

The house was packed. Sold out according to Remy and looking out over the full seats below, you believed it. Every seat filled, every table and booth spoken for, and every spot someone could stand was crammed with bodies, Undercity pressed into the sides and shoulders of Piltover’s elite. The sight had you smiling from ear to ear. You needed the encouragement on a night like tonight, Silco’s absence still haunting a hidden piece of you.

But you were a professional, a true and dedicated artist who would not look back. And once you began, you found it shockingly easy to push the evening's earlier events from your mind as you focused solely on the performance. The conversation with the audience. And my, how they spoke back. It was the loudest you had ever heard them and that was saying something. You had missed them in a way you hadn’t understood over the last month, and they made it clear they missed you too.

As good as you were at staying present, there were a few moments that you were unable to keep those striking eyes of fire and ice from your mind. The first had come during your second number, placed intentionally at the top of the show for him as much for you. A tribute and thank you for all he had done for the Royale Sweet, which now felt wasted. There had been a faint tremble in your breath and in the right arm of your first arabesque when the music had begun. This dance inspired by Silco, written after your morning together, a daring blend of Ballet and Burlesque. Would anyone else understand or appreciate something so outside the realm of your typical performance?

Once you had forced that shuddering breath from your lungs, you forced out all other thoughts too, losing yourself to the complete focus of the dance. Pirouettes, Grand Jetes, Sissonnes, and Sissonne Attitudes executed with deft and joyful precision. It surprised you just how much of Ballet’s storytelling lent itself to burlesque in the quiet smaller moments. Casting a coy look over your shoulder during a perfectly placed Derriere. Untying the ribbon to your wrap during Shenae Turns across the stage. The way your breasts would bounce just so as you went on pointe. The way your pasties gleamed under the stage lights as you moved through your Port de Bras circle. You loved the impressive moves but the simpler ones seemed to be key to engaging in the conversation of Burlesque. The softness in your hands and shoulders at each reveal. The audience seemed to hold their breath as they watched you. As you finished the final phrase of the dance, holding your pose to your dismay and delight you could see patrons jumping to their feet with their applause. A standing ovation. It left you in awe. Enough to soothe some of the pain of who this dance had been for. A gentle salve to knowing that the eyes this had been meant for would never see it. A welcome reminder that this art was wonderful, beautiful and worth it--no matter where the inspiration had come from.

The second time Silco entered your mind that night was during one of your final acts, one that had been built around audience participation. You had planned to give it to him. To find him in the audience, mark him as your victim and give him every bit of your special attention. That plan in tatters, you eyed row after row for another victim.

You certainly had extra time, you had planned your beats with time to get to Silco in one of the back booths but with him gone you could take in all that the room had to offer. You spotted a rowdy group from the Academy three rows back, all loud and obnoxious, save one man that looked wholly out of place. A small uncomfortable smile lingered on his soulful features yet he appeared happy to be here, taken by the show and glamor of the evening. His large brown eyes glistened with curiosity but there was a sorrow that seemed to contour his handsome countenance. To his left you noticed a cane. A mantra rang in your head, learned from long ago: An outsider recognizes an outsider. You had found your victim.

Making your way to him through the mass of people, the men to his left only got louder with your proximity. The man seated beside him was rather beautiful, and he seemed to know it, flattening his broad shoulders against the back of the banquette with the expectation of your approach. A devilish grin spread across your lips as you locked eyes with his, a bright hazel that stood out against his olive skin and dark hair. He smiled wide, a heat now burning behind his gaze that quickly transformed into confusion as you stopped squarely in front of his friend. The man before you was nearly his friend's opposite; pale, slight, longer well kept chestnut hair, large features-- but damn if he wasn’t just as beautiful in a way that pulled at your heart. There was a quiet melancholy that surrounded him, telling you a story of a life of being unseen and passed over. Not tonight. You would make sure of it.

You sat on the table in front of him, notably free of any drinks or glasses, earning you loud cheers and gasps from the audience as well as a wide-eyed stare from your victim. You kicked a leg over him in an impressive display of your flexibility and pressed your heel into the banquette just beside his head, moving your other leg to mirror it, giving him a private view of the area between your legs with both of your legs spread framing his face. His blush was impossible not to notice, but you found it endearing. Breaking from your script you reached forward to caress his cheek, his jaw. Another display of your flexibility. His amber eyes met yours in an intimacy that surprised you. Something indescribable in the connection found in them, in the way they saw you. It felt rare and raw and fully enchanting. Like making love. Something you could get lost in with no desire to be found.

You forced yourself back to your practiced choreography, playing with the gossamer fabric panel of your skirt that hung between your legs, the only bit of modesty provided in your positioning. Casting the fabric over his face, its drawn out airy descent gave him a slow sizzling peek at what lay beneath. The shouts from the other men at the table were deafening. The friend to his right had forgotten his disappointment and had instead moved to delight at watching his friend alternating between cheers and staring in slack-jawed amazement. You laid back on the table, with a slight arch to your back, moving your hands slowly down your body in time with the music. Those large golden eyes felt like the languid touch of a lover as you felt them follow your every move. Your hand was his soft and tantalizing, dragging down your neck, your clavicle, your breast, your ribs, your stomach laden with intent. Finally your fingers reached the apex of your thighs and tugged the panel of your skirt free, lifting yourself off the table with the extreme arch in your back. The crowd went wild at this move, just as you had planned. Drawing your head back up to meet his gaze you were greeted with the sight of those big brown eyes with their pupils nearly blown out at the sight of you. Gods help you, you loved it. Teeth pressed into your lower lip you leaned forward, wrapping the panel of your skirt around his shoulder like a scarf before kicking off the wall into a slow controlled flip into a standing position. This nearly brought the house down and you still had a bra to take off.

You sauntered back towards the stage reveling in the roar of the crowd, leaving your victim behind to the hollering and congratulatory claps on the back from his friends. From the look on your victim’s face, he could hardly believe what had just happened himself. You were happy it had been him. Happy you could give him the attention that made him like he belonged here. He did. Everyone belonged here. But you couldn’t help but think of how you had planned those moves, that moment for someone else. Imagining the hungry look you had wished to see on Silco’s face brought a heat to your chest. A thought you forced down with the final reveal of your pasties.

The music built to its final crescendo as you shimmied, twirling your tassels, each crystal catching the light and dancing in it. For a single suspended moment you were the tantalizing, glittering fantasy. But moments like that were never long enough. As the horns eked out their ending notes, your eyes caught the movement at the edge of stage right. A figure, a man, attempting to climb on stage? Colored splotches swam in your vision from the stage lights as you tried to make out what was happening between moves as the song drew to a close.

The clapping covered the sound of raised voices at the foot of the stage as you quickly made your exit, ducking behind a curtain backstage to get a better view of what exactly was happening.

Nox. It was always Nox.

Had he been here the whole time? It was surprising to see him here after the falling out with Gabriel, although you supposed it shouldn’t be. When had Nox let anything get in the way of his good time, friends or family be damned. The sharp sound of angry voices came a split second before the sound of falling glasses and a toppling table. What was Nox doing? Drunk no doubt, but you’d never seen him violent. But there was no denying it as you watched this stranger from the safety of the dark. His hands on one of the bouncers, shoving, screaming, raising to hit him. A gasp broke through your lips. Who was this man? Not the Nox you knew. Not the goofy guy who had closed the bar down with you all summer long. Not sweetheart with a snaggle-toothed smile that had asked you to marry him a dozen times and meant every one. You didn’t know this man at all.

His words came to you distantly, as though there was a part of you that refused to hear them.

“She’s mine! That was supposed to be me- Move! She wants me-- she’s mine!”

Nox was down before he landed a single blow. A hard hit across his face and he crumpled to the ground. You weren’t sure he was still conscious when the bouncer dragged him towards the door. Nox… It made you sick. But there was no time for the sorrow and disgust you swallowed. The show must go on and with one more number before the finale it certainly would.

Before you knew it, you were giving your final wave goodbye from your signature martini glass, which had been modified into a champagne coupe for the evening to celebrate the reopening, and watching as the curtain fell on your most momentous performance to date. The crowd had been incredible, better than you could have ever asked for. All your hard work had paid off and every nerve in your body vibrated with elation. Joy and relief washed over you as you basked in your glass, in no hurry to rush this moment. You had no idea how truly tense you had been and now that it was over--you could finally breathe. And that’s just what you did. Tossing your head over the back of the bowl you filled your lungs with a deep breath through your nose, holding it a beat before releasing it slowly into the air above you. A small moment out of time. A quiet pause at the foot of chaos. A gentle appreciation of now.

It wasn’t long before you were toweled off and redressed to meet your public in a favorite costume of yours, an ensemble of shimmering emerald from your garters to the extravagant necklace you wore and everywhere in between. The time flew by in a dizzied blur meeting each of the patrons that lingered after the show. Incredibly kind as they were, you were slightly disappointed to see who wasn’t among them. Silco was nowhere to be found and neither was the gentleman you had used earlier in the evening. As the adrenaline of the night wore off, you found yourself desperate for your bed.

“Congratulations to the Princess of Piltover!” Remy exclaimed, pulling you into a warm embrace.

“I hope that’s not a title that sticks.” You mumbled into his chest.

“There’s never been anything like you and there never will be. Tonight’s show was proof of that. They adored you! More than I even thought possible!” Remy’s words were sincere, even if the champagne seemed to lead the conversation.

“Thank you.” You said looking up into his warm honey-brown eyes. He truly was dashing. It made you wonder why he wasn’t sharing this evening with a special someone.

“You have a lot to be proud of.” He added with a gentleness that was at odds with the kind of celebration that surrounded you.

“So do you.”

“This is just the beginning, kid. The sky's the limit!” Remy said, raising his glass and finally releasing you. It made you realize how cold you were. How utterly tired.

“Well for tonight, it’s the end. I’m exhausted.” You tossed over your shoulder as you pulled on your coat. You loved this coat. It was an outfit unto itself and made the cold weather more enjoyable just by the wearing of it.

“Headed home already? You haven’t even touched the champagne!”

“Tomorrow!” You called back to him as you made your way to the stage door.

“Sleep well! You deserve it!” Remy shouted over the chattering sounds of the bar determined to drown him out. It was nice to see the place lively after a show, even with only a handful of people lingering, speaking excitedly as the staff cleaned and closed around them. It felt like you had truly built something and you had.

Still, you welcomed the quiet and the cold air on your face stepping through the stage door into the stillness of the night. The alleyway and loading dock cut into the hillside provided you a perfect reprieve from the eyes of patrons. From the eyes of anyone really. The stage door was little more than a light at the end of a dingy tunnel where you loaded in most of your props and the club unloaded most of its trash. For all the glamor of a place like this, sometimes you felt more at home beside the dirt and dumpsters. There was something unpretentious and fully necessary that you couldn’t quite put your finger on but you found it comforting.

“There you are!” Rasped a voice from behind you.

Whirling, you turned to see Nox pushing off the brick wall of the club, his face cut and swollen from his fight with the bouncer. It made you wince just to see it.

“Nox--”

“They threw me out! Can you believe that?” Nox said just a bit too loudly. Something was off. That uncanny feeling from earlier returned as you studied him carefully.

“They threw me--ME--out! Bullshit! I told them--you were mine but they didn’t listen. I told them. I told them you were mine.” Nox spoke quickly and quietly, in looping phrases. Was he talking to you or to himself?

She is mine. His words from earlier rung in your head, now with the show behind you you were able to fully absorb them.

“Nox--” You repeated forcing a hard swallow.

“How could you touch that guy like that? HOW?” The harsh echo of his voice bounced off the bricks lining the alley.

“Nox I didn’t--”

“It should have been me! All this time, Irene. You know it. You know it! We’ve been doing this dance for months.” He was closer to you now, something strange and staccato in his movements that made your hair stand on end.

“Nox I was glad to see you--”

“I know! I know!” He interrupted, “But you still let it happen. You let them. You let him--” His words descended into frantic rambling more and more with each sentence.

“I don’t know what you're talking about, Nox.” The exhaustion of the night creeping into your voice. Whatever this was, this wasn’t drunk. You’d seen him drunk a hundred times, but this, this frightened you. Scared you stiff and left you frozen in place.

“It’s obvious. So obvious. But you--you just won’t let it be. You’re mine, doll. Always have been. Why can’t you see that…” His voice was almost a whisper now as he leaned into you, taking your face in his hands.

The warmth of Nox’s breath washed over your face and you took in his glowing yellow eyes. His hands were sticky on your skin and made your skin crawl. His face drew closer to yours and suddenly your stupor was broken as you pressed your hands into his chest and pushed him away with all your force.

Nox stumbled several steps back but managed to keep his footing. He lifted his head slowly to drink you in and the expression of rage carved into his features stole the breath from your lungs. Trembling you began back away, one shaky step at a time.

“Enough!” He growled.

He was on you in a flash. Arms and hands harshly gripped every part of you in an endless array you couldn’t escape from. Your limbs were not your own as you pressed and scraped and fought. His lips on yours drowned out the sound of your cries. Nox’s desperation evident as he forced open your lips, strangling the sounds of your protest with lips and teeth. Suddenly Nox hissed and you stumbled out of his arms onto uneven concrete. He was bleeding, a thin scratch below his cheek bone shone under the single street light. Quickly you looked down at your hand finding a matching hue coating the tip of your finger.

“You’re mine.” He growled again, charging toward you. Hands and feet uselessly scraped the ground as you tried to back away only to collide with the dumpster behind you. Strong rough hands grabbed your thighs and pulled you forward in one harsh motion. You let out a small yelp as your head hit the ground from the force. Nox was strong, stronger than he looked and with spots dancing in your vision your stomach churned with the realization of just how helpless you were.

“Nox, please--!”

“You’ll see. You’ll see, Irene. We’re meant to be. You’ll see.” He repeated like a frantic mantra as he pawed at your clothes, lifting your coat and fumbling for your garter belt. You screamed. You kicked. You flailed your arms wildly past the point of any formulated plan, just one desperate shot in the dark after another.

“Nox stop!” You shouted, “Don’t-” Your words were interrupted by the feeling of a hand in your hair pulling your head cruelly off the ground before slamming it back into concrete with a force that stopped the words in your mouth and replaced them with an agonizing groan.

Your head was warm and wet and darkness came in clouds at the edge of your vision. A dream, surely. This couldn’t be happening. This couldn’t be real. The weight of your head lolled to one side and you watched as Nox ripped your underwear, unable to summon the strength to move.

“Nox…” Your voice was a hoarse whisper.

No. No.

Your breath came in short bursts as you tried to move your twitching fingers. As your brain screamed to you useless body to move, to do something, anything.

Nox’s hands were at his belt and he was muttering all the while.

“You’ll see, you’ll see. You’re mine Irene. You’ll see.”

A feeble whimper forced its way past your lips, willing all your strength into your legs, a last ditch attempt to get away. But it was futile. Nox pressed himself on top of you repeating the same sick phrase again and again.

“You’re mine, you’re mine, you’re mine.”

A distant part of you hoped that your injuries, that this darkness would take you before you could feel him force himself inside you. That same part of you wondered if you’d live through this, wondered if you wanted to.

This wasn’t Nox, this was some monster. Some yellow-eyed demon who had devoured the man you knew and was going to do the same to you. He was going to eat you alive.

In the darkness above you there was a glint of silver that arched through your vision like a shooting star and in that millisecond you made a wish. Help.

Then it was warm, terribly warm and wet. Eyes flitting to the source you saw Nox’s head lowered, reaching, reaching, clutching. He looked up at you desperately, eyes wide, grabbing at the collar of your coat, revealing the crimson cascade that flowed rhythmically from his throat as his hot blood spilled over you, the evidence of a life extinguished. Your eyes locked with his as you watched the life retreat from them. Nox was dead, his lifeless body draped over you as you looked on unable to move. Then there was a heavy shift as his body was rolled off you and onto the ground beside you with the kick and prod of a metal toed boot.

Snapping to your senses you scrambled back as far as you could before you met the familiar cold metal behind you. Trembling, you forced in a shaky breath watching a tall dark figure wipe the scarlet from his blade on the fabric of Nox’s shirt, returning it to the shining silver you had wished upon moments before. Straightening to his full height, he seemed to grow impossibly taller and taller still, his face finaling turning from Nox’s lifeless body towards you, still half cloaked in shadow. The unmistakable light of a red orange orb, a glow in the darkness.

Silco pocketed his knife and extended a hand to you.

“Sorry I’m late.”

#silco #silco x reader #silco x you #arcane #slow burn #eventual smut #burlesque #arcane league of legends #undercity #silco smut

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