#silco x me x bedroom

[havikshoochiemama]

MY WIFE HOW I MISS YOU 🥹

HE LOOKS SO GOOD 😭😭

[fr3sh-tragedies]

Good Luck Charm

[Arcane] Jinx x Female Reader

Summary: Jinx has been told she's a mistake and a...well, a jinx her whole life, which is why it's such a surprise when you tell her she's your good luck charm.

Word Count: 3.09k Content Warnings: A small breakdown Category: Angst + Heavy fluff || Oneshot

[A/N]: Not proofread. Just wanted a quick break in between characters again. I couldn't stop myself from writing for this dork, especially after seeing the teaser for season two.

Enjoy!

 “Alrighty, toots, I think I’m gonna head to bed. You wanna come with, or you gonna stay up a bit longer?” You turned your head over to glance at Jinx, watching as she repeatedly turned her chair partially back and forth with her eyes fixed on you. Smiling warmly, you shrugged. “Well, I’m not tired just yet, and I wanted to finish this book,” you started, watching from the corner of your eye as she seemed to slump down at your words already. “But I can just keep reading in bed.”

Jinx stood and let out a small cheer, trotting over to you and gently taking ahold of your wrist to tug you toward the bedroom you often crashed in. Ever since you had grown close to the “loose cannon” of the undercity, things in your life had rapidly changed. It started off simple – you would spend far more time hanging out with her than anyone else. Then, as things started to develop between the two of you, you began staying the night almost every night with Jinx cuddled up against you as you slept. Even when she couldn’t sleep, you could feel her arms wrapped around your shoulders while she traced random patterns against your skin.

When Jinx had told Silco of your relationship, you feared the worst, already preparing to write your will or find a way to escape his wrath. Surprisingly, though, he was rather accepting. When you asked Jinx about it in private, she told you she believed it was because he had seen how happy she had been ever since you showed up. A few days later, her theory was confirmed when Silco had called you into his office to set rules about dealing with Jinx and her issues with trust.

He warned you that Jinx could get extremely clingy and would get overprotective of you, which you had already noticed she had begun to do, so you simply nodded. He continued to speak of things such as her hallucinations and wish to keep her past a secret. You agreed to all of the terms he had set to be with his daughter, unaware of the figure stationed above you on her usual platform. Her eyes were trained solely on you, legs swinging back and forth as she let herself rest on her stomach. With her head cradled in her palms, a wide grin made its way to her lips as you calmly agreed to take care of her.

It seemed, however, that she had done the opposite, meaning she seemed to take care of you more than the other way around. More often than not, if you were outside of her hideout, it would come across more as possessive than anything. She’d blurt out insults and impulsively pick fights with people who threatened or flirted with you.

Once they realized who they were dealing with, they backed off instantly. The few poor souls who decided to test their luck suddenly went missing, as well as Jinx for a short time, and then were never seen or heard from again. You had learned to come to terms with her reckless and apathetic behavior towards outsiders rather quickly.

“Trinket? Hello? You in there, or… did ya leave this planet?” You blinked, glancing back over at the blue-haired girl as she waved her hand in your face.

“Hm? Oh, sorry. I was just thinking about what’s going on in my book. I’m near the end, so everything is getting chaotic.” She snickered and hooked her arm around your shoulders as she led you into the bedroom. “Ah, then you’ll have to let me borrow that book sometime. You know I love a bit of chaos. Or a lot of it.” You smiled at her and rolled your eyes, playfully bumping against her and earning another chuckle.

As she plopped down to sit in her spot on the bed, she watched you silently while you flipped your book back open and sat on the other side of the mattress. Once you had leaned back against the pillows, it didn’t take long before you felt a head land gently on your shoulder. A quick look down let you know Jinx had already bundled up under the covers and shuffled over to cuddle against you for the night. With weary eyes, she peered down at the pages of your book, briefly skimming over the short excerpt of the story she could see.

Soon after, she let out a yawn and tucked her head further against your neck. “G’night, sweets. Love you.” You beamed down at her and pressed a small kiss to the top of her head. “Love you too, hun. Sleep well.”

By the time you had finally woken back up the next day, Jinx had already been up for a few hours. She hadn’t left the bed, but she was tracing patterns and words into your arms and back. When you shifted and yawned, she smiled and perked up rather quickly, sitting up in her spot and peeking down at you. Once you had rolled over to look her in the eye, her grin only grew. “Mornin’, toots. Did you sleep well?” You nodded and sat up, yawning again.

“Yeah, what about you?” She shrugged and toyed with the hem of your sleeve. “Eh, I slept okay. I got kinda restless after a while and woke up, and then I couldn’t go back to sleep.”

You nodded at her words. After a while of you trying to keep your eyes open, you felt Jinx lean against you and tug you close. “I don’t wanna leave to go work on those stupid experiments,” she confessed with a frown. “I just want to stay in here with you. I wish I could come down with you to your job instead.” With a small smirk, you raised a brow and glared over at her. “Oh? And why’s that?” She smirked back at you and slipped her hand down to lace your fingers with her own. “‘Cause I could keep you safe. I could beat up all the pervs that keep trying to get their nasty paws on you.”

A gentle chuckle escaped you as you pulled her further into your side. “Yeah, that’s what makes you my good luck charm. Nothing seems to go wrong for me when you’re near.” You had expected another teasing remark of some kind, though nothing came. Instead, you were greeted with silence. After a while of not receiving any kind of acknowledgment of what you had said, you looked down at Jinx. You blinked in surprise when you saw her gazing right back up at you, eyes filled with a concoction of emotions that couldn’t seem to even out.

Her brows furrowed together. One moment, she seemed confused, and the next, she seemed upset or in disbelief. Similarly to her eyes, her eyebrows couldn’t focus on which emotion to express.

“Uh, hun? You okay?”

“What’d you call me?”

“What?”

“What did you call me?”

You continued to stare at her, unsure of what you were supposed to say. “I called you ‘hun.’” She shook her head and lifted it from your shoulder to be eye level with you. “No, before that. What did you call me before that?” It took a moment for you to recall what you had said a mere moment ago. The confusion of the new situation had made it hard to wrack your memory. “‘My good luck charm?’”

She was silent for a few minutes, which felt like hours with how thick the tension had grown.

“You think I’m lucky? That I’m a lucky charm to you? Do you really think that?”

An uneasy smile and chuckle left your lips. “Well, yeah, of course I do. I mean, I always love being around you, and because of all you do for me, everything seems to go right when you’re around. You really are like a being of good luck to me.”

She seemed troubled at that, which certainly was not what you had expected. Tears welled up in her eyes and prompted them to grow glossy, though she fought them back. “But – no, I’m not lucky. I’m, I mean, my name is “Jinx” for goodness sake! I’m not good. I’m a horrible person. I mess everything up. How could you possibly believe that I’m a good luck charm? I don’t understand.” You felt your nerves spike, recognizing that she was at the beginning stages of another episode. “Woah, hey,” you whispered, placing a hand softly on her shoulder in an attempt to ground her back into reality before she could fly too far away from the present.

“No, I’m not lucky, I’m a Jinx. I’m the opposite of lucky – I’m unlucky. I didn’t – no, please, I’m not. No, shut up! She’s not trying to – stop it already!” Unintentionally, you leaned back, making sure to keep your hand in place. It seemed like Mylo had taken over again, throwing insult after insult at her and flooding her mind with false realities.

“Love, I’m sorry,” you murmured. “I didn’t mean to upset you.” She glared at you, eyes fixed on you in front of her, though she seemed to be staring so far away. Her eyes flickered as though she were reading some sort of script, incoherent mumbles rolling off her tongue. “No, you shouldn’t be… you didn’t – shut up! You shouldn’t be the one apologizing!”

You remained silent, waiting for the right time to chime in as Mylo continued to torment her. Although you had no idea what he was telling her, you could get a general idea based on the few words you could make out in her sputtering.

It took forever, but she ultimately calmed down, panting for breath and clutching handfuls of hair. When she came back to her senses, she found you holding both of her hands to prevent her from tearing her strands out again. Sometime in between her episode and her break into reality, she had begun copying your breathing the way you had helped her practice each time she had gone through it in the past. At length, she sighed and let her eyes bore down into her lap.

“I’m sorry,” she whimpered.

Softly, you cupped her face in your hands and lifted her head up to look her in the eye. She shifted her focus away from you, unable to meet your gaze. “It’s okay, I promise. I’m not mad.” The feeling of the pads of your thumbs grazing across her cheeks to wipe her tears away brought her a feeling of relief. Her tense shoulders drooped down after she sighed once again.

Moments passed. She finally forced herself to meet your eye. “Did you really mean it?” She whispered with a broken tone. “That you think I’m lucky?” You nodded with a weak grin. Again, tears pricked her eyes, though she leaned forward and buried her face in your shoulder before they could fall. Her arms lifted from her sides, hands grasping at the back of your shirt as she sucked in multiple shaky breaths.

“I’ve always thought you were lucky.”

Weeks had passed since you had started referring to Jinx as your good luck charm, then it shifted into months, and your list of nicknames began to grow. It became a common occurrence for her to hear you call her “lucky charm,” “charmer,” or even “bluebird.” It seemed as though you were shifting to just focus on positive nicknames instead of entirely pinpointing each play on the words “good luck charm,” though she wasn’t complaining.

She certainly wasn’t used to all of the compliments and the nice names. After all, she had been referred to as a jinx, a screwup, and essentially a burden her entire life up until she met Silco. It would take a while for her to accept what you said as truth, but she had started to come around to the loving nicknames. After a while, she even began to look forward to what you would call her for the day. She had started rubbing off on you in terms of nicknames as well. “Trinket” and “sweets” began to creep into your vocabulary, and she adored the way it sounded rolling off your tongue when it was directed at her.

Soon enough, the positivity had worn down part of her insecurity, so long as she was around you. You made her feel safe and secure, which wasn’t something she was used to either. Often, she could be seen practically bouncing down the halls with a cheesy grin plastered on her face, even if she had just left Silco’s office. Silco and Sevika had definitely taken notice of her sudden shift, and although Sevika didn’t understand why she was so much livelier than normal, Silco found himself smiling more often at the sight of Jinx when she’d suddenly remember the nickname you had chosen for her for the day.

When she’d sit up top on her makeshift platform in Silco’s office, she had to be given reminders in between meetings to settle down. Her legs would swing over the edge and kick at the air rhythmically, and her hands would pat randomly at the wooden planks.

She loved the nicknames, to put it bluntly. She absolutely adored them. Since that night, not once had you referred to her as Jinx. Somehow, even though everyone else called her by her known name, the mere mention of what you were calling her for the day gave her a boost of confidence. Whenever a mission would go wrong, she’d come straight to you to talk about it, then listen with a soft smile as you told her repeatedly how things would be okay and how she’s still your lucky charm.

With how suddenly all the flurry of names were thrown at her, she struggled to pick a favorite. Even so, her energy and overall glee grew daily, even beginning to show in her work. Weapons were crafted more cautiously, produced quicker, and had more expressive markings made by her oil crayons. Sevika didn’t enjoy the increase in enthusiasm, Silco certainly appreciated everything.

He still didn’t fully trust you, though it was growing increasingly obvious to him that you weren’t a threat, and in his eyes, you were there for a reason. You made Jinx happy, and that was all he really wanted in the end. As far as he was concerned, you had his blessing. He knew things could change, but after seeing how you treated her during every emotion she expressed, he figured that was a slim possibility.

As he sat in his office one day, he sighed and ran a hand down his face. The door had closed only a moment ago, and still he could hear the tapping and swaying above him. Leaning back in his chair, he gazed up at Jinx sitting on her small platform, biting back a small smile when he saw her grinning gleefully. “Jinx,” he called out just loud enough for her to hear. She finally turned her attention to him curiously. “Hm?”

“You know you need to be quiet when I have people in here. It’s very distracting with you shuffling around up there.” Jinx chuckled nervously. “Sorry.” He finally allowed himself to smile, catching Sevika off guard from her spot on the sofa. “Why don’t you spend the rest of the day with [Y/N]? You’ve earned a break, both of you.”

Instantly, Jinx dropped from her spot above and landed on Silco’s desk. She crouched down and looked him in the eye. “Really? You’re okay with that?” He nodded. “So long as you two don’t cause any major problems,” he added. She beamed brightly at his words and her eyes lit up. “Thanks!” Within an instant, she turned on her heel and hopped off the desk, already out the door and skipping down the hall to find you.

Silco grinned softly with a small shake of his head. He leaned forward again and motioned for Sevika to shut the door as he picked up a few papers to straighten them.

When Sevika returned to her spot on the sofa, she huffed out a heavy sigh and pinched the bridge of her nose. She bit her tongue with what she wanted to say, but a look of warning from Silco made her waver. “What are you breathing so heavily for?” She waited, trying to rephrase her words before speaking them, but ultimately gave up.

“It’s nothing against either of you. I’ve just never seen her this energetic before, and I’ve seen her get energetic in the past.” To her relief, Silco hummed and smiled. “Yes, she’s certainly been in a better mood as of lately. It’s refreshing, in a way.”

Sevika waited momentarily, unsure of what to say. “You think that girl is the reason she’s been so cheery?” “I know she is. Her name is [Y/N]. She’s known Jinx for a couple of years now, and the two of them have grown quite close in such a short amount of time. I don’t entirely approve of that girl, but Jinx has taken a liking to her, and I’d be a fool to take that away from her.”

Even with her disliking of  the blue-haired girl, Sevika couldn’t help but grin at his words. “Yeah, it is nice to see she’s stable with someone. I was worried she’d drive someone away. [Y/N], was it? She’s patient, and that’s definitely good for someone like Jinx. To be honest, I’m glad they met.”

“Yes, I am as well. I suppose I should include a few of the names [Y/N] has been using to refer to Jinx as when speaking to her. It seems to put her in a better mood, as you’ve said, and I’ve noticed an improvement in her crafts and missions.” A chuckle slipped from Sevika before she could stop it. “Yeah, she hasn’t screwed up another task in a while.”

“Pardon?”

Sevika swallowed and cleared her throat. “Sorry, sir. It was nothing.”

All the while, as they chatted away about her improvement, Jinx trailed down the hallway and all the way to her hideout. When she saw you there, sitting comfortably by her desk in the extra chair she had pulled into the room to have you nearby while she worked, she couldn’t help the smile that stretched across her lips from ear to ear. As she grew closer, she wondered what you would refer to her as that day.

[dantent]

Day 2 of ARCANEWEEN

Prompt: FANGS AND CLAWS

Characters: Young Silco, Young Vander, Reader 

Relationship: Young Silco x Reader

Timeline: Pre-Arcane

Words: 3923

Warnings: None

Sharing an apartment with Silco and Vander was not the worst idea you’ve ever had. Silco usually cooked for the three of you, while Vander took care of most of the cleaning up. Not to mention the price of living with two others. It was always split and eventually you could save up some of your money to buy some things for yourself. That came at the cost of two of you working two jobs at the same time. Vander and you had both worked hard to keep up this state of living, while Silco handled the finances at home. 

But life wasn’t always easy with them either. They bickered like brothers on most days, and quite honestly it could truly get under your skin. Just this day you were lying on the couch, a book in your hand, and enjoying your leisure time before you had to get to your second job. The apartment wasn’t big, so the kitchen and the living room were opened into each other to give space to the two bedrooms and one bathroom. Which is why you heard Silco and Vander’s bickering loud and clear as they were making dinner. 

“Come on, it would be fun!” Vander nagged the boy for the one hundredth time.

“More like humiliating.” Silco scoffed at him. “I’m not dressing up to your stupid Halloween party.”

“I already bought your costume!” he whined.

You sighed to yourself before closing the book. With raised brows you turned your head to the boys. Silco waved a spatula in his hand while talking to Vander, who was wearing an apron. Sometimes they looked like an old married couple who couldn’t decide if they still loved each other or wanted to poison the other one’s drink. 

“What are you two arguing about again?” you yawned. “Some of us would like to rest, you know.”

“Tell that to Silco!” Vander turned around. 

“Why is this my fault?” Silco whipped around as well. “This knucklehead wants me to wear a cat costume to his boss’ Halloween party!”

You burst out laughing at the image of Silco wearing a tail and cat ears. The bar - The Last Drop - Vander worked at organized a whole party for tomorrow night and everyone attending must be wearing some sort of costume. You have been invited as well but sadly you couldn’t go, as you had to work that night. 

“No, no, I wanna see that.” you managed to say. 

“Well, I wanted to get three matching costumes but since you can’t come I can only match with Silco.” Vander crossed his arms. 

“So if he is a cat will you be… a mouse?” you smirked. 

Silco snickered under his nose, before turning back to the food they were making. The taller boy sent him a death stare before rushing to his room. You were left alone with Silco, who gently turned off the stove. Before you could go over to him to help with the food though, Vander burst from their shared bedroom with ears clipped to his hair and a short tail tucked into his pants. 

“Woof.” he said with the most serious tone ever. 

You and Silco stared at him for a moment before you both started to holler at how stupid he looked. Vander scoffed at your reaction, especially when you fell off the couch and continued to scream on the floor. Silco wasn’t in a much better position either, as he sat on the floor and each time he looked at the other boy, he just started laughing louder and louder. 

“This isn’t funny!” Vander finally screamed at the both of you. 

“Woof.” Silco wheezed. “He said woof!”

“I can’t… breathe.” you said while coughing from all the laughing. 

“I fucking hate you.” He walked back to his room. 

You and Silco were left alone again. After the laughing died down and you were able to stand up, you walked over to the stove and helped Silco make portions for you all. Vander soon joined you and the dinner began. After dinner, you helped Vander wash the dishes because Silco had gone to sleep early, as he had to go to the mines earlier tomorrow morning to be able to attend Vander’s party. 

“Are you sure you can’t come?” the boy next to you whispered as he washed another plate. 

“Nah, you know I can’t leave my job.” you sighed. 

“I wish you could come.” he shook his head. “Silco really wanted to drink with you too.”

“Did he say that or are you trying to make me feel bad?” you smiled at him. 

Vander chuckled. “Guilty.”

You shook your head at the boy. “I’ll see if I can get there before the party is over. But I won’t promise anything.” 

“If you manage to come, you could wear the cat costume.” he shrugged. 

“Vander.” you sighed. “Hell no.”

“It’s a good costume!” 

That morning, right after your night shift,  you went to sleep a little disappointed that you can’t spend the night with your favorite boys. As much as they could annoy you, they were the closest friends you ever made. Silco was your first friend ever, in fact. But your relationship with him was more complicated than that. You never missed the shared glances, the subtle but intimate touches and the flirty banter between you two. Alas, Silco wasn’t the type of person who wanted anything serious, and you weren’t going to ruin your friendship with your feelings, so everything between you two was left unsaid. Before you could overthink it more though, you drifted off to sleep. 

You woke up sometime in the afternoon, two hours before you had to go to work. A loud crash rang through the apartment and you jumped out of your bed. It only took half a second and you were already out the door with a pocket knife in your hand, only to see Silco hunched over a broken plate to gather the pieces. 

“Fuck’s sake Silco.” you sighed. 

His attention turned to you. “Morning.”

Silco’s greeting only made your eyes roll as you walked over to the kitchen counter to see what you could eat before going to work. Sadly there wasn’t much left, which meant you would have to get some groceries soon. With a sigh, you went to open more cabinets. That was until you felt Silco gently press against your back. From behind you, he reached for the cabinet and opened it with those long arms of his. 

“I can make some eggs for you.” he whispered against you. 

You could feel your face heat up from the pressure against your back. But it didn’t last long, as Silco already stepped away to prepare your breakfast on the stove. You cleared your throat before speaking. 

“Thanks.” you managed to say. 

“Best I can do after I broke the plate.” he just shrugged without looking at you. “Should’ve been more careful.”

“It’s fine.” you shook your head. “I appreciate the compensation, though.”

He huffed a laugh as he broke the eggs into the pan. You all have been eating eggs for breakfast for two weeks now. It was better than nothing but you were slowly getting sick of it. Still, the memories of going to sleep without food in your childhood made you push those negative feelings away. At least you had food everyday. That’s nice. 

“It's nothing.” Silco hummed. 

You fell into silence as you watched him cook. His hair was put in a bun, as it so often was after work. There were still some smears of coal on his cheek that just emphasized his sunken face. No matter how much you have fed that boy, he stayed just as lean. Sometimes you wondered what he looked like under all that clothing. You have seen him naked before, but you were children back then. Since you both have reached puberty though, only the people Silco seeked out in the brothel have seen him naked. Speaking of which, that reminded you of a topic you wanted to discuss with Silco. 

“I wanna find a partner.” you started. “Long term.”

Silco only looked at you from the corner of his eye. 

“Why?” he asked. 

“It’s just… stability, I guess.” you shrugged. “I know I have other things to worry about, but having a partner I could rely on sounds good, you know.”

“I don't think you should do it.” Silco looked away, his attention on the eggs again. “You have me and Vander anyway.”

You sighed. Of course Silco didn’t get it. In a better life, a better world, you would’ve chosen Silco. But finding truly romantic partners in Zaun was rare, which made it all the more intriguing. You also would’ve lied if you said the piltie romance books you’ve been reading lately didn’t have anything to do with your opinion. 

“I know.” you nodded. “But it’s not the same! I want to go to sleep with someone on my side.”

“Pfff, I can go over to your room if you want that so much.” the boy shrugged. 

“Silco, you’re not hearing me!” you groaned. 

“All I’m saying is,” he fully turned to you, “that you can do all that shit with me and Vander.”

“Like kissing and sex?” you raised a brow sarcastically.

Silco’s face darkened with a hue of red before turning away from you. He just stared at the stove with furrowed brows, no doubt thinking what he could say next to change your mind. But you were faster than him. 

“Maybe I could have my own place with my partner, and you could get your own room instead of sharing one with Vander.” you shrugged.

“And how do you think we would pay for this apartment without you?” Silco turned to you with anger in his eyes. 

“Right, I didn’t think about that.” you nodded. “Well, I could bring them here.”

“Absolutely not.” he sounded offended. “I won’t live with someone I don’t know.”

“Well, you could meet them.” you raised a brow at his reaction. 

He slammed his hands down on the counter. “Just why aren’t I enough for you? Or Vander?”

Your eyes widened at the desperation in his eyes. Silco never acted like this before. Even in the worst scenarios, he was the one with the brains who got your little group out of trouble. Were it not for his calmness in risky situations, all of you would be behind bars by now. 

“It’s not that you aren’t enough for me, Silco.” you reached for his hand to calm him down. “You are the best thing that happened to me, and I will always cherish us.”

He squeezed your hand at those words. You felt like you finally understood what the problem was. Silco must’ve felt like you were replacing him with someone new, just because he couldn’t give you the romance you wished for.  

“No one can come between us.” you shook your head. “If I had to choose between finding someone, or keeping you, I’ll always choose you, Silco.”

You offered him a smile and before you could react, he pulled you into a hug. As much as he tried to deny it, he was a sucker for physical affection. You hugged him back with a huff, rubbing his back. 

“I know you want to have that perfect romance like in your books,” he whispered against your ear, “but it’s rare here. I’m saying all of this for your own sake.”

“I know, Sil.” you nodded. 

After a few seconds passed, you broke the hug. With a smile, you reached for his face and gently caressed him. Silco softly sighed and closed his eyes while enjoying your affection. A thought crossed your mind - to kiss him. But that was quickly discarded when you remembered the eggs still left on the stove. 

“The eggs will-” you started but couldn’t finish.

Silco’s eyes opened wide and he quickly turned around. “Shit!”

Thankfully he got the eggs off the stove just in time. Silco grabbed a plate and served you the eggs. You both sat down in the living room and Silco took his notebook out to calculate all that the household needed to spend in the upcoming weeks. He always tried to minimize the amount spent, so you and Vander just left this to him. That reminded you…

“Where’s Vander?” you asked between two bites. 

Silco answered without looking up. “At the Drop.”

“Already?” you sighed. “He’s working too hard.”

He just hummed. Just from that, you knew he had something on his mind. Silco didn’t make eye contact, was playing with the pen in his hand and slowly bit away his lips. All of these were things he did when keeping a secret from you. 

“Spit it out, Sil.” you groaned. 

He finally looked up at you. “I’m quitting.”

You almost spit the eggs out. “What?”

“I got offered a job at The Last Drop to cover all the financial stuff.” he shrugged. “Payment is better and it’s less exhausting.”

You smiled at him. “I’m happy for you. Sounds like a way better job.”

“It is.” he nodded. “Thanks.”

After you ate your breakfast you got ready to leave the house. Silco wished you a good shift before you left, then went on to get ready for the Halloween party. Whereas you imagined the boys had a blast at the party tonight, you were stuck in a shop selling scraps and tools to all the lonely bastards who weren’t able to attend any parties. The customers had a way to make their bitterness known to you by all but spitting on you. So to put things simply, your shift was going horribly. 

You were sitting behind the counter, playing with the lone coins in your hand. No one had stepped into the shop for about an hour now. And all your thoughts were on the Halloween party where all of your friends were currently. Vander, Silco, Benzo and all the others. You wished you could simply just leave, alas it wasn’t much of an option. Your shift still lasted for hours. If you ran fast enough though, you might be able to catch the end of the party. 

After about another half hour went by, your boss appeared in the shop. His graying hair all but glowed under the neon lights of the Undercity. With a cough, he walked inside and closed the door behind him. The old man greeted you with a wave, as he walked over to the counter. You raised a brow at him, surprised to see him in the shop so late. Usually he would leave the keys with you and leave at the beginning of the shift. 

“Did you forget something?” you asked on instinct. 

“Just because I’m old my memory isn’t shit.” he waved his hand dismissively. 

“Then what-”

“One of your friends was practically begging on his knees in front of my door to let you go tonight.” he huffed a laugh. “Slim boy he was, yes.”

“Silco?” you wondered out loud. 

He shrugged. “Didn’t catch his name. He asked for you to go to a party, though.”

“Oh, yeah.” you nodded. “My roommate's boss is making one and I was invited.”

“Well, go then!” he tried to push you away from the counter. 

“Really?” your eyes widened, standing up to leave. 

“Before I change my mind!” 

“Thank you so much!”

You all but ran out of the shop. The old man grumbled something under his nose but you were in too much of a rush to catch any of his words. Not many people were on the streets that night, but you still managed to bump into a few as you rushed to your apartment. It didn’t take a lot of time to get home, as the shop was pretty close to it, but you still coughed like crazy after all that running - a byproduct of living in constant toxic air. You dropped your keys before you could open the door so you cursed under your breath before you practically broke into your apartment. 

No one was inside, just as you expected. What surprised you however, was the little note placed on the cat costume. In Silco’s handwriting you read “For tonight”. You sighed, shaking your head at the boy. Clearly he had been planning this, and you wondered whether or not Vander was in on it too. Though, their argument seemed genuine so you supposed he was just a victim of Silco’s scheming as well. 

Without a spare costume, you had to comply with Silco's wishes, and put on the cat ears and tail. It looked utterly ridiculous on you, probably because it was made out of very cheap material. But there was no other thing you could wear, so you left the house in this. The Drop wasn’t too far away from the apartment either, albeit it was in the other direction. It took about the same amount of time to get to it like it took to walk to the shop. 

Once there, you opened the heavy doors of the bar, only to be met with unusual neon lighting inside. Usually it was warm and welcoming, but now mostly younger folks partied to loud music. You walked inside trying to find a familiar face. Vander was behind the counter, serving drinks to everyone. He looked comical with the dog ears on, but he seemed to enjoy it so you weren’t going to judge him. 

“I wasn’t aware the bar accepted strays.” a familiar voice came from behind you. 

You turned around with a smile, only to be met with Silco dressed fancily, with ruffles on his shirt and a swept back hair. As he smirked at you, fake fangs became visible, that were attached to his teeth. 

“And what are you dressed as?” you laughed at him. “A leech?” 

He rolled his eyes. “So your boss really let you go.”

“Well, after someone begged him for it.” you walked over to him and booped his nose. “Thank you, Sil.”

Silco smiled, before he looked down on what you were wearing. That’s when he noticed you were wearing his oversized sweater. 

“And wouldn’t you see.” he groaned. “I believe that’s mine, sweetheart.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” you quipped back. 

“Oh, you absolutely-”

Before he could finish it, you made a run for it. There were enough people around you to blend into the crowd, and Silco’s voice started to fade. You giggled to yourself as you turned to a corridor just behind the stairs. Most people didn’t know how to navigate through this place, but you, Silco and Vander did. That’s why you knew you would have some alone time with him. 

It didn’t take long for Silco to catch up to you and when he did, he pinned you against the wall. His grip was loose and if you wanted to, you could easily escape. Silco wanted to seem serious but he simply couldn’t help but smile when he heard you giggle at his antics. 

“You got me.” you grinned. 

“Fantastic observation.” he whispered. 

“If I were you, I would look out for my claws.” with delicate movement, you scratched Silco’s hand. 

“Oh no, I’m so scared.” Silco huffed a laugh. “All I wanted was to talk, and you attacked me like this.”

“Oopsie.” you shrugged. “Tell me what ails your heart, my dear vampire.”

He shook his head at your dramatic tone. “I’ve been thinking about what you said to me earlier. About a partner.”

Silco looked at you with half lidded eyes, his face inching closer as he spoke. You could feel the heat rise to your face but you didn’t let your emotions show. 

“Really?” you asked. 

“Mhm,” he nodded, “and I came to realize I also feel like such.”

Your heart sank for a moment. “And you have your eyes set on someone?”

It wouldn’t be too far of a stretch, after all Silco was dressed especially nicely. You weren’t even sure where he got these clothes from. The most likely answer was that he stole it from a piltie’s closet, but you still couldn’t imagine how he would’ve possibly come to know of such clothing. And it definitely wasn’t in his closet before either, you would know since you always go through both his and Vander’s stuff when your clothes aren’t clean and you don’t feel like washing them. 

“I have, in fact.” he looked deeply into your eyes. “And I don’t plan to share that person with anyone else.”

“Aren’t they just the luckiest?” you chuckled. 

Silco hummed as his gaze slowly traveled to your lips. All signs pointed to you. The way he acted, how he spoke, the fact that he dressed up nice; it all seemed like he wanted you. And this closeness just proved even further. You wanted him just as much.

“Well, why don’t you take your first bite then, fangs?” you whispered.

Silco’s eyes widened for just a second before leaning in. He stopped just before he could reach your lips and traveled down to your jaw. You could feel his lips press against it for a moment. Then you felt him fully at your neck. He started biting and sucking it greedily, like anyone would steal you from him. You ripped one of your hands from his grasp and grabbed his hair to hold into as Silco pressed against you. He groaned when your hand pulled on his hair and started sucking on your neck even stronger. You gulped at the sensation. 

Before he could draw blood, he left your neck and came face to face with you again. His breath softly hitched as you firmly pressed your lips against his. Then he made a noise you could die for - he moaned into the kiss. That alone sent a shiver down your spine. However, this wasn’t the place for anything more than a kiss, so you soon broke it. You two were panting against each other as he planted a gentle kiss on your lips once more before fully pulling away. 

“I’ve wanted this for so long.” he sighed. 

“So have I.” you gently caressed his face. “I never want to leave your side again.”

He grinned at that. “That’s something I could definitely get used to.” 

Silco grabbed your hand and started dragging you upstairs. You yelped at the sudden force but went with him anyway.

“Come on, I have to show you off to everyone.” he looked back at you with a grin. 

“Wait.” you stopped him for just a moment.

His enthusiasm broke for a second, but he still listened to what you had to say. 

“I love you, Sil.” you finally confessed what you’ve been holding in. 

Silco’s eyes widened, and he opened his mouth to say something back. But no words came. It was okay, you knew how hard admitting his feelings were to him, and you weren’t going to push him past his limits. 

“You don’t have to say it back.” you smiled. “Just being with you is enough.” 

He sighed and pulled you in for a kiss. It was much more gentle than the previous one, and once he pulled away, he inched to your ear. 

“I love you too.” 

It was a whisper so quiet not one person could ever hear it besides you. Silco’s love wasn’t meant for anyone but you, and that made you the happiest person in the world.

[nausicaaandhermouth]

A Kiss For Loyalty

masterlist

young!silco x gn!reader [1.2k][AO3]

summary: You find him after the attack on the bridge, and you're left to figure out how to tread the fragile state of him.

tags: young silco, a few hours after vander tries to drown him, angst, established relationship, hurt silco, not betad

a/n: mid-lecture we were looking at photos of gash wounds and i couldn't help but think of young silco's face fresh after the drowning, so ofc i had to write a comfort fic for him. kinda comfort. it's mostly angst.

Vander couldn’t look you in the eye, couldn’t form a single word. And at first, worry was what overtook you—Silco hadn’t survived, lost in the fight. But the more you looked at the larger man who had returned, the more you recognised something else: the aftereffect when he’d had too much to drink, had raised his voice, had felt guilty. Regret.

You find Silco in your bedroom, curled up on the worn mattress that had held you both some countless nights. It had overheard the visions for your new nation, the sloppy passion of drunken evenings, the quiet rise and fall of breaths during winter. Now it’s witnessing something new.

You’ve never heard Silco cry. Your bedroom shrinks at the sound of it, as if the corners darken and round themselves to hold and hush him. It’s a sharp sting, an undeniably pained cry bleeding into his palm, cupped around his mouth.

When you approach, you’re silent—assessing, investigating, worrying if this isn’t something you can fix. He’s never been so evidently broken. You’re not sure whether it’s about Vander or at the failure of their uprising, both of which had taken a large portion of his heart.

“Silco?” you whisper, taking another step forward.

“Don’t,” he manages, his sobs becoming quieter, but affecting his breath, bubbling out of him in squeaks and chokes. “Please,”

You shake your head, keeping your ground but keeping your eyes on him. He’s refusing to remove his reddened hands from his face, his hair curtaining over his left side, black, wet strings.

“You’re hurt,” you furrow, focusing on the blood down his hand. You rush forward, chest attempting to wrangle in a frenzied heart. “Show me, hey, S—”

“Stop!” he inches away from you, a childlike recoil that makes you freeze.

It’s a foreign behaviour, a desperation he’s never worn, never come close to mimicking. As far as you’ve known him he’s been the opposite. Even in pain, he stitched together a composure so convincing it made others doubt he could ever truly feel the hurt he was raised around.

You suppose that it’s something he’s worked on, refined throughout the years after taking on the responsibility of becoming Zaun’s face, alongside Vander. His ideologies had spilled straight from his heart into your ear. You understood why he worked so hard to maintain a strong face.

That man was gone; he hadn't entered the room this time.

He’s hiding, you see, shielding his face from you. This, you understand, is something he thinks may spare you from even a fraction of the pain he must be feeling. He’s always been so. To hoard the suffering and smile.

“You don’t want me to see you?” you ask, kneeling by the bed and retracting your hands.

Silco doesn’t answer, the chokes of suppressed sobs the only sound from him.

“It’s alright,” with a shake of your head, you turn around, facing the other way and leaning against the bed. “I don’t have to see you. Just… just talk to me,”

You wait a beat, then another, waiting for his voice, willing his voice to regard you again. Anything with a meaning that you could warp into a sign of hope.

“Please,” you add. It’s unintentionally desperate, pleading, giving him the power of controlling where the conversation goes. Something he needs, you suppose, something he’s certain is still predictable.

You hear a sharp breath behind you, then the shuffle of your bedsheets. Your eyes slide the farthest they can without turning your head, attempting to see any glimpse of him.

Then his hand enters your periphery, pale skin against scarlet, fingers twitching and shaking as his forearm rests on your shoulder.

You take gentle hold of his hand, turning it this way and that in search for wounds. But nothing. “Who…” your breath escapes, “Is this your blood?”

“Yes,” he responds, a word that pricks at your lungs sharply.

You see the moment clearer now. A wound so deep that to reveal it is its own pain.

You recall Vander’s face. The shame that distorted his features, how ugly it becomes as you try to piece together the fragmented pieces. 

“Vander did something,” you surmise. Your breath quickens, a sneer creating brackets around your flared nostrils. “Did Vander do something?”

You feel Silco’s breath near the top of your head, but before you’re able to turn, a weight settles over you. Momentarily, you hold, letting the firmness of his muscles process on your body, around your shoulders, his other arm snaking over your bones and holding you backwards to him.

You hear his soft sniffs over your head and slightly to one side, the bone of his cheek pressing against your crown.

There it is again. It’s a spear through your body, the sound of him. It strikes a fissure along your lungs, each sudden inhale a crack veining in your airways, each tremoring breath he takes an earthquake on your skull. Vander, what have you done?

You take his hand and hold it to your cheek, the cool back of his hand against the warm apple of your face. You interlace your fingers, a familiar practice, just as fluid as the locking of legs in the night, or the pressing of palms for a prayer.

Next was the chaste kiss on his index knuckle, for loyalty. Then on the middle knuckle, for liberty. Another on the ring knuckle, for luck. And lastly, a kiss on the pinky knuckle, for love.

It was a silent conversation he and you had made, meeting mouth to bone always easier than devoting a voice to each word.

His other hand wrapped around your wrist, bringing your arm upwards and over your head, your own knuckles meeting his familiar lips. But they tremble.

He breathes a kiss, gentle, on your index knuckle, starting, then failing. His breath falls jagged on your skin.

For a moment he restarts, the warmth of his air hovering over your knuckle. But again he fails.

Your frown deepens. Even more so when he moves your hand and skips to your pinky knuckle, the only promise fulfilled.

“How bad is it?” your voice slightly muffles against his hand near your mouth.

He swallows, clearing his throat. “At the… we were at the river, he—” he grips your hand slightly tighter.

“It’s still hurting?”

His clothes shuffle. “Yeah,”

“Let me look?”

Silence.

You start to think he’ll reject you again, not yet prepared to face you in whatever shape Vander had left him. But he loosens his arm around your shoulders and moves away, his presence at your back fading.

Your other hand remains in his, the anchor, as you shift on the floor and turn.

You look up and your eyes meet. No. One eye meets yours.

You sense his panic by how the one remaining blue jumps between your eyes, tips of his mouth downwards. He brushes aside his wet hair.

The left side of his face had been marred, a trench of exposed muscle, skin, and blood bared at you. The blackened sclera is haunting, a flame moving in tandem with the watery blue of his other eye.

You’re more than certain there’s nothing but indignation gushing through your veins. Yet, Silco remains beautiful. You realised a long time ago it was difficult for him to not be, no matter the state of him. And still now, left eye diseased with the molten of betrayal, mouth frowned by grief, fear in his good eye.

“It’s not over,” he whispers, leaning forward as you reach up and cup the unmarred side of him. “We’ll take back Zaun,”

There he is. No man, no river, could ever kill him. “You’ll show them,” you press a kiss to his index knuckle.

[ace-of-zaun]

Pas de Deux Pt. 10: 

Silco x f!reader, 4.6k words, NSFW(ish)

cw: (please see chapter 1 for full series warnings) angst, fluff, sexual tension, references to masturbation and sex

also, the story rating is going up to explicit from here on out, but i’ll keep including individual chapter warnings so you can decide if that’s your vibe or not :)

PART 1 | PART 2 | PART 3 | PART 4 | PART 5 | PART 6 | PART 7 | PART 8 | PART 9

It really shouldn’t be a surprise when Silco reverts to his overprotective ways after the Jinx incident, where you’d been tied to your bed and interrogated by his surrogate daughter. And having been followed by the bar incident, in which you’d been held hostage in the middle of The Drop with a broken bottle to your neck, it's no wonder he’s acting like you’re a porcelain doll. 

But you’d grown so used to even just that sliver of freedom, the speed in which he’d torn it from your grasp quite honestly stings. 

Oddly enough, the thing that hurts more is that after the harsh reprimanding he’d given his staff for letting someone get to you, practically nobody but Silco will make eye contact with you anymore. It’s not like you’re allowed to go anywhere by yourself, but you’re pretty sure that if you were to wave a flag and scream in Thieram’s face, he wouldn’t even look you in the eyes. 

So, alone again. 

Again. 

Well, alone except for Silco, who not only won’t let you go down into the bar by yourself, but also insists on having you escorted to and from his office, and even to your studio. What’s worse, he’s reverted to wanting you by his side all hours of the day and most of the evening, as if you’ll slip through his fingers the very moment you’re out of his sight. 

Of course, protesting is no use. 

The times you’d asked why you needed a babysitter all day everyday, and why you couldn’t just go back to the one guard instead of a ridiculous three, his dismissive, drawling responses of, “I cannot take any precautions with your safety, you are too important to me,” and, "I need to protect you, my lovely," had awakened a deep urge to scream until your throat burned out.

You never do scream, of course. And since you categorically refuse to plead with him, after only three days of letting him shepherd you around, you resort to the only method that will get through to such a petty soul.

Sulking. 

So, as you sit on your bed, arms crossed petulantly, you futilely contemplate the odds of being able to smash the window, jump to the nearest rooftop, and just run until you reach people that have never even heard of Zaun, all without being noticed.

The newest guard, who’d made the mistake of infuriating you when he’d looked over your shoulder instead of at your face like a decent human being, had tried to escort you to Silco’s office, to which you’d responded rather emphatically, “Tell Silco I’d rather gargle water from the River Pilt and spit it in his face.”

By the time Silco arrives at your still-open bedroom door, a brief glance at the worried look etched upon his face indicates that the guard may have told him something slightly different. 

“Are you not feeling well, darling?” Silco asks, lithe fingers curling around the wooden frame. 

“I'm fine,” is your short response. You continue to stare blankly at the empty space of wall above your dresser.

“Why don’t we go to my office? Lunch should be ready soon,” he tries again, far more patient than you’d ever expected a crime lord could be. 

“I'm not hungry.”

“Sweetheart,” he breathes out in a tone that’s so soft, you practically feel your heart clench at the unfairness of it all. 

“Just put it on a tray and slide it through the door,” you bite out, building your walls even higher with every sarcastic word. “May as well, since you insist on treating me like a prisoner.”

Across the room, the door shuts with a loud, forceful click, and your head whips over to it, alarms instinctually raised. 

Your eyes widen at the sight of him stiffly leaning back against the closed door, his expression unreadable and hands clenched behind him. A part of you automatically panics that he’s going to get mad and turn this against you. But his promise rings in the back of your mind. 

“You truly think of yourself as a prisoner?” he asks, voice tender but thankfully filled more with frustration than anger. 

You sigh, immediately backtracking. 

Perhaps you were too harsh. He’s only trying to help. 

Elbows digging into your thighs, you allow your head to drop into your hands in defeat. 

“I just feel like you don’t trust me, Sil,” you tell him. (He shouldn’t, but that’s besides the point.)

Silco traipses over to you, carefully kneeling down between your legs as one hand links with yours, the other resting soothingly on the top of your thigh. Now face to face, he searches your expression. 

“Why won’t you let me do anything by myself?” you continue before he can suggest anything that will make you want to knee him in the stomach. "I don't understand what I've done wrong."

"You haven't done anything wrong, my love," he says, the fingers on your thigh squeezing gently. 

“Then why won’t you let me do anything anymore?”

You’re toeing the line of pleading, but won’t allow yourself to cross it. Not this time. 

He sighs and shuffles closer, strong arms wrapping around your waist until you can rest your forehead on his shoulder, a dance that almost feels natural at this point. 

“To keep you s-”

You cut him off by digging your nails into his lower back. 

“Silco. If you tell me one more time that you’re doing it to keep me safe, I’m going to spray perfume in your eye while you’re sleeping.”

He huffs a breath of air, pulling back ever so slightly to peer at you down his nose. His expression is entirely too cheeky and it makes you wonder just what ridiculous thought he’s entertaining.

“Your perfume or mine?” he asks playfully. 

You glare at him, clearly unamused by his antics, so he decides to clarify with a languid sweep of his hand up and down your spine. 

“I wouldn’t necessarily object to being reminded of your gorgeous scent every once in a while, even if it may bring some slight discomfort.”

The rolling of your eyes is accompanied by a muttering of freak under your breath, which only serves to bring out that crooked grin of his, much to your dismay. 

Silco reaches up to tuck a stray section of your hair behind your ear, letting his fingers rest delicately on your cheek as he looks into your eyes, expression suddenly grave. 

“I’m afraid I cannot let you wander about by yourself, my love, not after you were put in such an egregious amount of danger,” he tells you solemnly.

You have to physically hold in the bark of laughter that threatens to erupt from you. 

Egregious amount of danger? Did he even grow up in the same Zaun as you? 

It’s probably not the best course of action, but you can’t help your response. 

“Then, I’m afraid I can’t join you for lunch or dinner anymore,” you bite back, a little bit childishly if you’re being truly honest with yourself. 

Right on cue, Silco’s good eye narrows, his lip twitching in indignation as his hand drops once more to your thigh. 

“Darling, do you not think you’re being a tad unreasonable?” he asks, clearly trying to keep a lid on it. “Can I really be blamed for wanting to keep the ones I love close to me?”

You practically blanch at the gall. 

“I’m being unreasonable?” you gape at him. “You’re the one who’s trying to keep me locked up forever!”

“I am not trying to lock you up,” he snipes back before huffing out a sigh, running a frustrated hand through his hair. “All of this is for you, my darling. I brought you home from that wretched city and its people. I commissioned you a custom-built studio. I have spent hours upon hours ensuring your safety.”

You really could scream now. You never asked him to do any of this, never wanted this. 

Recognising that you’re about three seconds away from completely exploding, you try to remove yourself from the situation before you do something you’ll regret. 

“I’m not doing this-”

You push on his shoulders lightly, attempting to shuffle yourself backwards on the bed and decidedly away from him. 

Unfortunately, Silco tries to stop you.

“Sweetheart-”

One hand darts around to the small of your back whilst the other hooks underneath your knee, and in one smooth move, he pulls you towards him until you’re flush against him.

And your body floods with heat completely against your will, partly in awe of the pure strength needed to manoeuvre you so effortlessly, and partly because in doing so, the angle and position has pressed his broad chest and waistcoat buttons up against the most sensitive part of you. 

You jolt in surprise, a stuttered gasp escaping your mouth as your brain suddenly conjures the sordid image of your legs wrapped around his sinful waist, the look of shock he’s currently sporting twisted in your brain to fit an expression of pure ecstasy. 

And just as soon as it happened, it’s over. 

Silco immediately lets go, allowing you to shuffle back on the bed, but only far enough that you can hug your knees to your chest, as if it would hide your now racing heart and burning cheeks. 

“I-”

You cut him off before he can voice even one more word. You do not want to discuss it (and you’re already blaming it on the raised adrenaline levels from your argument).

“You said you want to keep your loved ones close to you but you let Jinx go wherever she wants.”

Luckily, Silco also appears to be amenable to moving on without acknowledging what just happened.

“Jinx grew up here, sweetheart,” he says after swallowing hard, hiding his unease about as well as you probably are. “She can handle herself.”

Well, you can’t really argue that point without revealing yourself to him, so you’re forced to accept defeat on that line of defence. 

A wave of exhaustion sweeps through you, legs dropping into a cross whilst your forehead drops into the hand propped up against your knee. 

It’s only in the silence that you realise just how heavily you’re both breathing. A cursory glance at the man still kneeling in front of you reveals just how torn he looks, and for some reason, it puts you on the verge of frustrated tears.

He clearly wants to comfort you. 

Slowly, a hand reaches out to rest gingerly against your knee, giving you plenty of time to reject him if you wanted to.

You don’t. 

In fact, against all better judgement, you press his hand firmer against your knee with your own fingers just to show him that it’s okay. 

“I know you don’t trust me,” you repeat softly.

And if he didn’t look heartbroken before, now, it’s practically radiating from him. 

“It’s not you that I lack trust in, darling, it’s everyone else.”

You sigh, flexing your fingers over the top of his. 

“I want to be more for you, Silco. But I just can’t like this. Not when I feel like a bird trapped in a cage,” you say with as much sincerity as you can muster. 

That seems to do the trick, his hand flipping over to entwine his fingers with yours as the other reaches to absentmindedly tug your shirt collar back into place. 

“I’m afraid I’ll have to keep the security for now, but I will… endeavour to find safe ways to help you feel less restricted,” Silco says gracefully. 

You try not to focus on the fact that you’re a million steps back and try to focus on the single step forward. As if this dance couldn’t get any more complicated. 

You achieved partial freedom before, you can get it again. 

“That would make me feel a lot better,” you say, hoping you sound grateful as you shakily climb onto your knees on the mattress. “Thank you.”

Arms encircling him, you feel the moment Silco relaxes in your hold, and you hate how much relief it brings you.

It’s quiet for a moment, the two of you lost in thought while Silco traces patterns on your back until he speaks over your shoulder, asking if you want to accompany him on one of his factory rounds, to see his ‘empire’.

Of course, there’s a list of rules and considerations he insists that he must put in place before you go, but in truth, you barely pay attention to it when you nod your assent. 

All you can think is that maybe there can be some compromise in this fucked-up situation you’ve found yourself in. Maybe this doesn’t have to be all bad. 

-

Almost a full week later, after Silco had meticulously planned out every single detail regarding this trip, you’re finally en route to the factory he’d chosen for your visit. 

Of course, one of the stipulations you’d agreed to whilst blissfully tuned out during Silco’s monologue was that you’d wear a face mask on your trip with him to the factory, one that obscured most of your features.

To protect you from the fumes, he’d said…

His levels of delusion are genuinely astounding at this point. Honestly, you should write a book about him, the real him. You could probably fix Zaun’s economy solely with descriptions of his insanity. 

You’re still fiddling with the edges of the mask by the time the carriage arrives at the large building, drawing to a stop in the darkened alleyway. 

Silco immediately exits the car without a word, and it’s his hand that is waiting to help you out and to swiftly escort you into the monstrosity that is one of his many Shimmer factories. 

At first, you’re not entirely sure how you feel about it all. 

Obviously, the conditions aren’t great. It’s hot, and noisy, and all the oversized pipes, vats, and crates filled with vials of Shimmer make the whole place feel far more cramped than it probably is. It’s like walking into the belly of the beast. 

But then again, you’d struggle to find a job in Zaun that was luxurious or even particularly nice, for that matter.

Silco meanders across the main floor with your hand tucked closely into the crook of his elbow, overseeing the nervous workers who scuttle about completing their jobs, all whilst trying to avoid eye contact with their stoic employer. 

Honestly, you’re unsure why he even suggested bringing you here, given that there’s nothing to really look at and you’re pretty sure half of his working policies aren’t even legal. 

That is, you’re unsure up until he begins yet another monologue. Except this time, you find yourself oddly captivated by his words.

He tells you in low, dulcet tones of his humble beginnings; how he started with nothing, much like the majority of Zaunites. He briefly describes the time he nearly lost his life as a young adult which prompted him to build all of this. How he plans to bring Zaun the independence and prosperity its people deserve, have always deserved. 

And by the time he’s finished speaking and has stopped for a moment to check in with one of the floor managers, you can’t help but stare at him, watching each careful movement and microexpression. 

Here is a man who’d had almost virtually the same start as you, who’d used every last shred of his resources to build himself an empire, all with the goal of elevating his city. 

Of seeking justice.

Silco returns to you after only a few minutes, where you instinctively reach to take hold of his arm again as he continues to walk. You let him lead. 

“Who will they think I am?” you ask when he offers you nothing more than a curious glance, nodding to the workers who keep shooting anxious glances at the both of you as you pass by. 

They definitely can’t see your face with the mask, but by your proximity to their boss, they must presume you’re somebody important.

“I suspect they’ll think you’re a potential business partner,” Silco responds diplomatically. To anyone else, he would appear just as impassive as ever. But you’re able to spot the twitch in his lips that tells you he’s holding back a smirk. 

You huff a short, sharp breath of air in amusement. 

“Do you have many of those?”

He finally comes to a stop at the bottom of a metal, spiral staircase, turning his head to glance down at you as he purses his lips. 

“None as beautiful as you.”

The roll of your eyes is thankfully covered by the mask. 

Now out of view from prying eyes, Silco delivers that smug little smirk he’s been holding back, almost as if he already knows your reaction, before elegantly gesturing with one sweep of his hand to allow you to climb the stairs before him.

And as you climb up and away from the toils of labour, you allow yourself to run away with the idea. 

If you’d met Silco in another life, one where’d you’d never conned your way into a privileged, Piltovian home, perhaps you could have worked your way into owning a large, successful business in Zaun. One that would have brought you into Silco’s world in an entirely different way.

You might’ve even been his equal, a chem-baron with almost as much power as the megalomaniac behind you. 

It’s this thought that inches you one step closer to the dangerous line you’ve been toeing, increases the pressure by just a notch. 

“I don’t think I’m entirely convinced that I should invest in this so-called business of yours anyway, Mr. Eye of Zaun,” you say coquettishly, adopting the air of an entrepreneur with unwavering confidence. 

“Well, that won’t do at all,” Silco drawls, clearly amused enough to entertain your antics. “What must I do to convince you otherwise?”

Perhaps it’s the fact that you’re not facing him that propels you to push it just that little bit further, just a little bit flirtier. 

“I can think of a few things.”

“Oh?” he intones, almost innocently. “Perhaps you’d like to share your thoughts so I can… accommodate.”

The heat that’s rapidly spreading through you must be from the factory machines, the cramped conditions. It must be. 

Reaching the top of the stairs, you find a darkened corridor lined with what must be office doors and for some gods-forsaken reason, it sends a thrill down your spine. 

Turning to face him, you walk backwards a few steps, letting him catch up to you in that slow, smooth saunter. And without thinking, you reach up to undo your mask, letting it drop to the ground as you take in Silco’s heated gaze, catching the way the pupil of his seafoam eye dilates in hunger. 

You allow him to come to a stop in front of you, but he doesn’t stray any farther. He seems hesitant, almost like he’s waiting for your next move, so you carefully loop your arms up and around him, forearms resting on his shoulders, hands clasped at his nape. 

“Hmm, in that case,” you tilt your head to the side, a tap to his shoulder blade with every demand. “I’ll take your crown, and your throne, and all your precious little treasures.” 

Then, you can’t help but lean forward ever so slightly, looking directly into those devastating eyes as you whisper.

“I want it all.”

It’s like watching an eclipse, the rapid darkening of his gaze an abyss, as the hands you’ve watched choke out a man come to rest oh so lightly against your waist. 

“And what would you give in exchange?” Silco asks with a rough swallow. The bob of his throat is simply captivating. 

“What do you want?”

“You know what I want,” he bites back, low growl a dichotomy to the gentle fingers tracing your sides. 

“Do I?”

Your attempt at coyness is met with a spine-tingling amount of conviction. Like he’s never been so sure of anything in his life. 

“I want you.”

Your legs guide him to slowly walk you backwards until your back hits the wood of the door behind you, your arms still looped around him whilst Silco’s hover nervously above your hips. 

He stares down at them, almost as if he desperately wants to but something is holding him back. 

His eyes dart up to yours in a brief look of trepidation, a question in his pointed gaze. So you nod once and resolutely ignore the voice screaming at you to just wait a minute, to stop playing with fire for just one moment. 

Silco’s hands finally press into your hips sending a jolt of fire racing up your spine. He stands between your spread legs, revelling in the proximity. 

“How much?” you ask. Silco only tilts his head in response, eyes distracted by the grip he has on your hips, so you grace him with clarification. “How much do you want me?”

That catches his attention, gaze snapping up to meet yours. 

And gods, you’re suddenly in need of air when Silco finally closes the distance, slowly leaning down to deliver his gravelly response directly against the shell of your ear.

“More than the body needs blood.”

Your hands instinctively reach up to thread into his hair, and Silco hips pitch forward into your own, a gasp escaping your lips at the joint sensation of his warm breath on your neck and the feeling of his arousal pressed firmly up against you. 

“Silco.”

“That’s sir to you,” he commands, scarred lips trailing down your jaw until they finally rest against your neck, pulse beating double time. 

Fuck, why can’t you think? Why can you only focus on the feeling of him pressed up against you?

“Yes, sir,” you repeat, forcing yourself to take a deep breath, in and out. 

He chuckles darkly against your skin as long fingers begin to slowly trail down your body, the other hand briefly snaking up into your hair, as if he just wanted to give it a short tug, just to see what it feels like.

You shiver bodily when that same hand travels back down to cup your jaw, his nose falling into place alongside yours, impossibly close now. 

Silco’s lips hover tantalisingly above yours, barely grazing them as he begins to speak again, tone low and rough. 

“Good g-”

He’s interrupted by an indignant voice from a little ways down the hall. 

“Excuse me.”

It’s like being startled awake - ripped from a dream - the way your body freezes in shock. 

Your hands drop to your sides as Silco inhales deeply, placing one hand flat against the wall next to your head. 

Slowly, he turns to look over his shoulder with a deadly precision and you watch as the worker’s blood drains from his body. It must be his office door that you’re currently blocking and in the darkened corridor, he must not have recognised the back of his boss’ head. 

For a brief moment you worry that Silco is going to literally drain the blood from his body right in front of you, but to your relief, he simply issues a sharp, cold command.

“Go. Away.”

The poor man practically scrambles away without another word, his footsteps tapping back down the metal stairs at a, frankly, quite alarming pace. 

Alone once more, Silco twists back around to face you, seemingly content to continue where you’d left off if his fervid expression is anything to go by. 

But you gently stop him with a hand splayed on his chest. 

The moment is broken, and there’s one thought ringing through your brain over and over again - what the actual fuck are you doing?

“We should get back home,” you tell him, watching as disappointment floods his features. “The fumes are giving me a bit of a headache.”

He pauses, just for a moment, as if he’s considering a counter-argument, but instead he just nods, accepting your lie at face value. 

“Alright, my love,” he says, carefully taking your hand in his and pressing a chaste kiss to your knuckles, not entirely dissimilar to the way he did when you were first brought to his office, all that time ago. 

Then, Silco wordlessly leads you through the winding maze of the factory and out to the carriage, where you begin the journey back home, the silence charged with something entirely different to the one you’d shared on the way there. 

-

It isn’t the first time Silco has laid flat out on your bed, legs crossed at the ankle with his hand linked atop his stomach. And it’s unlikely to be the last. 

He stares at the plaster on the ceiling above your bed, mentally replaying that delectable little gasp you’d made the moment he’d pushed himself up against you. 

For months now, all he’d craved was just a little taste. Just a little sample to tide him over. 

But now that he’d finally experienced the sensation of your lips grazing his, of your waist under his fingers, he wants more. He wants everything. 

And it was that everything he’d been imagining just minutes before in his shower, until he’d finished with one shaky hand on the tiles holding him up, head hung low, his panting breaths slowing down incrementally until he’d finally had the strength to turn off the water.

At first, he’d simply recalled the delectable feeling of your body pressed against his. Then, it had devolved into a sordid little fantasy of what could have happened. 

Perhaps one of you would have dropped to your knees right there and then. 

Or maybe you’d have dragged him through the office door you were blocking and he could have scratched the wooden floor beneath the desk and left a bouquet of bruises on your hips all in one go. 

It had all come to a crescendo quite soon after that particular image had graced his thoughts and once he’d dried and dressed, Silco had found himself wandering over to your bedroom before he was truly conscious of what he was doing. 

And now, as you bathe, completely unaware of his presence in the adjacent room, he lays on your bed and thinks. 

Of course, when he envisions you in the bath, some part of him naturally thinks of going for another round, this time surrounded by your heady scent, your clothes held against him. And if he were a younger man, he might’ve done just that, a race to finish before you discovered him. But now, he knows that his body is too tired to keep up with his overactive brain. 

Instead, Silco placates himself by turning his head to inhale deeply against your pillow. 

The fact of the matter is, he wants you. Badly. 

But he’d never forgive himself if he hurt you again or pushed you too far. 

Now that the bliss is beginning to fade, he realises that whilst it may be an incredibly arousing situation, he decidedly does not want your first time together to happen on a dusty old desk in one of his factories. 

He wants it to be absolutely perfect. And for that, he needs your full, unadulterated trust and love.

The sound of you rising from the bathwater next door jolts him from his daydream, and as the water rushing down the drain covers his swift exit from your bedroom, Silco shelves his fantasies for now and focuses his mind on the next problem to be solved. 

It’s only a matter of time now until he wins you over. He’s sure of it. 

-

a/n: hello everyone, i somehow managed to convince myself this was the worst story ever and had a whole-arse crisis about it, but we’re finally back on and i’m gonna continue to wrestle my demons in a boxing ring until this story is finished 🥊

Also, thank you so much to everyone who has left such lovely comments since i posted the previous chapter, I genuinely appreciate all of you so much <3 

[kitty-kitty-boomba]

Hi Honey! Welcome home!

omogomgomgomgomg-

AMAB! Sevika x Reader- BUT IN REVERSE

JUST HEAR ME OUT-

Also- this shit is long as hell. Like, I'm actually so sorry. P.S- I ran out of steam after I explain the situation, so respectfully? Writing is a tinie bit trash- But just a little! Also, no rlly proof-read sorryyyy

18+! MDNI

Please enjoy and let me know your thoughts!

Sevika and you have been married for four years now- and today would be your anniversary. You were actually celebrating being together for 10 yrs, your argument being that knowing each other as friends still counts. Sevika didn't care so as long as she had you, so she was all gun-ho for whatever you wanted as long as she got her "alone" time with you. Point is, you been planning for this day a lot. Like- for two weeks straight- a lot. Honestly, planning has never been this hard for you. Which is funny, because planning a wedding and the fattest after-party is no joke. For other people, what you were doing is arguably too much. But there is no such thing when it comes to your lil' mamma [i'm srry].

To break it down, you were going to spoil her like she spoils you. And thanks to her Ovulation days starting right in the first two days before the anniversary- you weren't going to have an issue fucking her stupid and taking charge for the night. That was your ultimate goal out of everything- but nobody knew that but you. [lies- Sevika knows. we'll get back to that.]

1st: You would start with Breakfast in bed and kisses. Give a massage if she likes. Really just seduce her, and mayybe give her a baby edible so she's near putty because otherwise, she'd spoil it for herself. After she got her mandatory cuddle session, you'd tell her you have to give your mom something. You'd send her off to hang with the kids a bit before stealing her- promising you wouldn't pass 5 o'clock because duh.

2nd: Literally everything else.

Thankfully, the two weeks was just you trying to see what Sevika wanted as a meal and not you picking out a theme to decorate with. Decoration was easy: Dim lighting via the fancy light switches you had Sevika install years ago, fake rose petals, real roses for the vases, regular candles for the dinning table, and a few vanilla scented candles for the bedroom. [your like for vanilla rubbed off on her. you didn't want kill more roses. you love roses, you like flowers in ur in vases and said vases are empty. you will be too busy fucking, you aren't burning the house down with candles]

Sevika- like the little shit she is- tried her damnedest to distract you from your spoiling mission, because of course she is. She acted all seductive and fucked you anywhere-anytime so you'd forget about whatever you had planned. The only way you got your answer was letting her fuck you until she collapsed. She could barley think straight, and while you weren't any better, you mumbled the ask just for her to say the dish you both have been eyeing for a while. You figured she'd want that, but you still wanted to make sure.

Secretly- at least that's what you thought, we'll get 2 that too- You shopped all the ingredients for it two days before. [You hid it in the Last Drop's fridge for a day before taking it back home. Vander, Silco, and Ran were Angels- Helping you by getting the kids to not mention the weird selection of groceries and keeping Sevika from opening it herself]

You also planned to get the homemade chocolate from her grandma's, Amelia: Yours and Sevika's favorite sweets of all time.

The last thing was dress up, which again, also wasn't hard. Sevika always dressed nice because she knows how much the little things mean to you. It was you who was freaking out on what to wear. You took to your mom, asking to get dressed at her house because you were worried Sevika would find the clothes. You wouldn't be wearing them long, but this was a semi-surprise so you were doing the grand reveal bit. You were torn between a dress like usual, or spicing things up and surprising your wife by matching her style a bit and wearing a suit. Ultimately- your mom silenced your worries by saying that Sevika would love to see you with a tailored suit on. She got you one as her anniversary gift. You just about cried.

3rd: Execute said planned and get fucked. That's it. Your not sure way you wrote that in the list- that's something that's literally impossible to not do with Sevika as your wife... But who cares?

During the planning, you were buttering Sevika up. From high-end Whiskey and Scotch, to flowers and chocolate, you were laying it on thick. You know it takes Sevika a minute to warm up to pampering- even if the minute was just her trying to distract you- so you happily continued and waited until she gave you nothing but a whine when you dissolved her into putty.

On the night before though- you had a mini-break down.

You did a facetime call with Amelia and your mom, out on your balcony trying to stop tearing up and keep your voice down as you voiced how nervous you were. Would the food come out good? Would it even come out at all? Would you burn it- or maybe do something else to mess it up? Could you even decorate and get dressed in time? Did you have to do hair, make up, and clothes before hand to cut down time? What if you sweat it all of or smell like steak! What if-!

They silence you quickly. They're helping you with the little things, so why not a bit more? They don't have nothing important for that day besides sending little gifts with you. So, you all agree to take a job. The food is meant to be cooked closer to when Sevika expected to be home, but if you got nervous, you could cook and Amelia would bud if you needed her and put everything in the oven to keep them fresh until they had to leave. Your mom would help decorate if necessary, and your hair will be the first thing done and pinned up in pin-curls so it would beautiful after you get dressed. Easy peasy- and if not- they'll make it happen for their favorite girl.

That helped more than you could ever say, and you slept real nice that night thanking the powers that the sleep aids you gave Sevika kept her sleepy so she wouldn't spoil anything. Little did you know, they weren't working for you.

Sevika had both them, Vander, Silco, and Ran recruited to keep you thinking you were being slick. She tricked you and picked the dish you wanted almost since the month started because she wanted you to enjoy the meal too- plus, that steak looked freaking amazing in the cookbook picture. The whole resistance to your pampering was Sevika being her beautiful self. She allows tons of things, but that type of love is hard for her to receive. So on top of watching you, she pampered you her own way by loving on you a lot more and giving you cash to spend. You kept saying you don't need it, but that shy smile and the blush blooming all over you was more than enough to keep it coming.

The smug sex-distraction part was improvised at first, because there was no way she could keep her hands off you for more than two seconds. But after it became clear it was working- Who is she to not take advantage?

So, as you planned- she planned.

She'd let you take it away, whatever decore you wanted, and anything else. She felt a bit bad for going behind your back after you spent time trying to make things perfect, so she transferred money into you account everyday and kept saying it was her "early anniversary gift". She didn't hear the conversation, but they called and told her the morning of that you were very excited, aka their way of saying her poor baby is stressed out. She was ready to tell everyone to spill the beans- but after all you've done, she really wanted to treat you.

And treat you she did.

Come the morning of, she lets do your thing, it was hard not too.

But after you do your whole spiel and send her off- both plans go into motion.

She did her everything shower, oiled up, and scented herself to the gods with that smokey, musky, amber/vanilla date-night scent you adore on her. After, she went to The Last Drop. Ran did Sevika's hair, nails [prosthetic too], and makeup, shit-talking and drinking with their best friend to calm her nerves. They even helped attach the new "skin" Sevika made for her arm, The smooth arm-like copper remined them of the one she made for her wedding day, just a bit less ornate. This is the most she's done since her wedding day, and a part of her felt completely ridiculous because she's long since forgotten how getting extra dressy felt. She doesn't understand what's become of her right now, but she feels to giddy to crush her sparking confidence- these red little almond nails looked too good.

She looked too good. If she says so herself.

Silco kept the kids upstairs with cartoon and an excessive amount of Amelia's chocolates- so it was up to Vander and Ran to keep that fire going and have their friend strut her shit for her special day. The eggs are taking over though, because while they give her a pep-talk that woman is thinking of all the positions to get that baby [lil' shit] that you've both wanted desperately [as of two months now].

A once over and Ran sends her off, telling another crappy joke and telling her not to forget to fluff her hair after she takes the rollers out. Sevika had two cups a liquid audacity that was more than enough to have her strutting the streets with her silk scarf covered head and her painted face. Everyone is looking at her in awe- only looking away when they realize that they're not worthy. If you were here with her, you'd stare at whoever even dared to look at her extremely wrong. She laughs to herself at that, causing some to flinch and scurry back to their little corner.

Because she timed it [and cus Amelia told her so], she went home to cook her gal a meal with an extra dessert planned...

She's shocked when the food comes banger and smells absolutely devine. You would love this, you'd be so proud- that's what she muses with, and her cunt certainly agrees if that clench was anything to go by. When she finishes frosting the cake, your mom calls her, letting her know that your dress and on your way. She laugh too herself for a good 2 mins, the idea of you dress up and fighting the steak hilarious to her. Thanking her for the heads-up, Sevika ends the call -covers the cake- and puts on the lace number, her thigh-highs and garter, and the dress.

Yes. A dress.

And fuck did she look smoking.

She did a once-over and applied more lipstick and perfume, before speeding back to the kitchen to grab the fancy bucket Silco gifted her on her wedding day. The champagne and towel looked professional, and she's three steps away from the table to finish setting it-

Then the door jingles.

She's about cumbusts right there on the damn spot [get it? I'm srry again]. Almost tossing the thing on the table and throwing herself to you- but she rehearsed this- she knows what to do.

Fucking focus Sevika Lanes!

You open the door and drop both the keys and chocolate on the little table by the door. She sauntered over so fucking proud, a nervous flash making your diamond nibble her lips before letting go. A sultry tone nearly silence by your horniess.

"Welcome home doll."

Holy. Fucking. Shit.

Your eyes are everywhere. Where can you pick when everything's fucking delicious?

A black get up, there's no color besides a blood red on her lips. A fifties old money heart-throb is what your diamond is. Her hair falling just like that pretty hairstyle you see in the stereotypes, the one with a side part and covering her eye? Yeah. And the short hair was making things extra tempting. You smell her from here, you catch the teardrop pearl earrings and matching necklace you bought her decorating her skin. But that dress. The thing itself is velvet, a deep sweetheart with semi-thin halter strap making those pretty tits even more plush. You make her do a little spin, and it's low cut-out back too, the most sinful thing. The bottom of the dress is a problem. There's a slit, ending right atop her hip, the floor-length skirt making those legs damn delectable in your eyes. Fuck- is she using a garter belt to hold the tights? Oh shit, an actual- fuck- a garter touching your shit. Oh- heels.

You don't know you moved impossibly closer to her until Sevika nervously asks: "Uh- D-doll? Are y-you ok?"

Oh you just about take her on the damn door, but your nose catches something real nice behind her. Fuck- answer her!

"Oh. O-oh honey. Oh yes."

Your voice isn't above a whisper, your too in love to properly voice all the emotions you feel right now. All of them putting joy to shame. You hear her deflate almost, leaning into your open arms with a sigh, sucking in your scent when she realized you wore your signature: A soft floral scent, a bit of fruity coming through the hints of amber. It sound weird to say out loud to anyone- but it's so unequivocally you.

"Oh gods, good. I thought you'd be mad at me after all the work you went through to make things perfect..."

Her voice is shaky, not with tears thankfully, but with relief. She just keeps huffing you, just like she does when she needs to ground herself . You on the other hand? You are doing nothing wholesome, nor are you thinking it. You are acting very un-lady like, groping her ass and sniffing that scent that has you complete drugged. There's no way you could go through with this, not when her boobs touch your face. Not when she smell like this. Not when her hormones beg for your love. Not when-

"Doll- I want you to see something. Keep it in you pants a little longer? For me- MÍ Amor?"

This is when it clicks that's it taking everything in her to shimmy out of your grip. When you register that the thing your smelling is food and not only her arousal- You quickly nod your head and briskly let go like she burned you. It's that or your taking that slutty dress off. Mrs. Rabbit who?

She backs up, fixes herself and re-adjusts her hair, and takes you by the hand.

Oh gods: how beautiful she set this table. It looked fantastic.

You hoped you expressed as much as your mouth hung open in disbelief, then Sevika had the gall to hold her hands together Infront of her, nervous. How could she be nervous? Still, she nibbled on her lip waiting for you to say something.

And how she'd take anything to silence the ache in her chest. Gods, you looked entirely to good in that suit for her to continue with this dinner. Why do you always want to do these nice things? She needs to get railed ri-

"Diamond... This is beautiful. You did all of this?"

She give a little nod, her proud feeling making her all giddy and having her stand taller like she needed to correct her posture. You had a ridiculous smile probably, but you were so fucking amazed and proud of her, you didn't dare school your joy.

"Thihis is amazing love! Look at you being a lil' chef! You telling me you could do this all along?!"

She snorts a laugh, fully relieved that your happy and not disappointed that she ruined your surprised- but with relief comes something darker that's clouding 90% of her vison. You both know it.

Dinner's here- you're just missing the show. To redeem yourself you pull out her chair and have her sit down, pushing her in before running to your seat. Once your settled, you pour the champagne and give her the flute: Then she says, "Bueno Amor, open it. I hope you like it, I think I might have put bit to much pepper..."

=======

Anddd skiping to a blip of smut, I can't think rn- to much flustered. But know this- she brutal on the other side of the table and teasing you to no end. Horny she is- but she's making sure it ur problem. P.S- Sevika is bra-less, and ur telling me "girl- duh" but you don't get it. there's no pasties either, just pretty tities with nipples poking right through.

===SMUT====

Sevika doesn't know when you ever fucked her this hard. You're practically growling, and animalistic need taking you as you rail her harder each time like your thick 9 inches isn't stretching her to the brink of insanity. Oh- and how incredible that would be. Sevika can't fight it, she lost her ordering rights when she pushed you too far at the table. Even if you let her have a few seconds of control at the beginning. She's left trying to crawl away just for you to pull her back telling the nastiest thing in her ear.

"You think y' so fukin' funny huh? Wearing that skimpy thing, being a good lil' -hah- M-my good housewife 'nd not have may baby? But y' want that no? y'a want a lil' cake in there. Ya?"

And all she could do is sob through a moan, a babble trying to cuss you out as she begs you for more.

She gets that baby that night, but you make sure the next morning.

@archangeldyke-all- Hope you like?😭can't write rn- but hopfully you can do the dinner and the smut better?

Hopfully y'all enjoy too!!

kisssessssss

[novasdrabbles]

A Break from it All

Sevika deserves a little TLC and you’re more than happy to provide.

Im still trying to get used to writing smut 😭

NSFW ahead, 1.2k words, x-reader

When Sevika had returned to your shared apartment, it was already growing dark outside. One look was all it took for you to know her talk with Jinx hadn’t gone too well. Now, she’d have to face the crowd at the rally tomorrow alone. And without the Undercity's new ‘hero’ at that.

You’d be there beside her, of course. But it wouldn’t be the same without Jinx and you both knew that. So, when you finally entered your bedroom to turn in for the night, it didn’t surprise you that she was still wide awake, pinching the bridge of her nose with a small groan.

You crawled in beside her, your hand gently settling atop hers and pulling it away from her face. You pressed a kiss to her knuckles, holding her gaze the whole while. Her own eyes softened at the feel of your lips against her skin, but she couldn’t help but scoff at the knowing look you gave her.

“Don’t look at me like that,” she muttered. Her fingers intertwined with yours, and she shook her head. “I’m okay.”

It was your turn to scoff, and you did just that with a raise of your brow. “You don’t look okay. You look exhausted.”

Even in the dim light of the bedroom you could see that familiar set to her jaw, a tension to her shoulders and the crease between her brows. After Silco’s death Sevika had been the only one to step up and try to pull the Undercity together.

She’d been the one to bring the Chembarons together in an attempt to unify them. She was the one who stood by Jinx despite every ‘disagreement’ they’d had in the past. She protected those unjustly targeted by the enforcers and Noxian soldiers that had flooded the streets. No matter what, Sevika kept fighting.

And it was all weighing on her.

“I’ll be fine,” she said, carefully tugging her fingers from your own. She blew out a sigh, her forearm draping over her eyes. “I just need some rest.”

Oh, please, you thought as you resisted the urge to roll your eyes. You sat up a bit straighter, pressing yourself closer to her side. “If you say so,” you mumbled, sounding wholly unconvinced. You eyed her for a moment, mind whirring, before finally settling on an idea.

You leaned in, pressing a kiss to her jaw. She only grunted, but made no move to stop you. A smile lifted your lips and you shifted in order to kiss along the shimmering scar trailing from her cheek to her chest. You carried on, your hand running along the exposed skin of her waist, relishing in the pleased sigh you heard above you.

You nipped at her clavicle as your hand found purchase underneath her cropped shirt. You moved to straddle her, your knee gently nudging her legs apart to give you more space. Sevika relented, far too used to the random bouts of physical affection you’d drop on her.

It was only when she felt the bed dip at her waist did she move. Sevika lifted her arm from her eyes, staring down at you with a newfound interest. “Yeah?” She said, voice low as your fingers purposefully trailed along the top of her thighs.

“Oh, yeah. You need a break, Sevika,” you said matter-of-factly as you shifted to rest between her legs. “But, I know you won’t take one, so I’ll clearly have to help you relax in a different way.”

Her lips pursed, but she said nothing and you took that as your cue to continue. You kissed her torso, before dragging your lips down to the waistband of her pants. You could hear her breathing getting faster, and you bit back a prideful grin as you got to work tugging her pants off.

You could feel your own pulse quickening as you selfishly stared at the sight before you, your breath coming out in shorts puffs against her cunt. She was already more worked up than you thought, a clear sheen of arousal present. A thousand quips came to mind, but you decided to save the teasing for another day. Especially when she was gazing at you like that.

“You always work so hard, Sevika,” you murmured, pressing a kiss to the junction between her pelvis and her thigh. “Let me work for you tonight, okay? You gonna let me make you feel good?”

Sevika’s jaw ticked, this side of yours never failing to shut her up. Her tongue felt heavy in her mouth, and she barely managed out a quiet, “Yes.”

That was all you needed to hear. You hummed and leaned in, pressing your tongue flat against her entrance before dragging it up to her clit. The sound Sevika made was nothing short of guttural as she tossed her head against the pillows and you felt your own stomach clench in turn.

You set a slower pace, your hands gently spreading her thighs further apart. You wanted her to enjoy herself after all. You teased her entrance, tongue dipping in and out of her steadily. Sevika panted above you, a deep groan rumbling in her throat as your lips wrapped around her clit and sucked.

You weren’t surprised when her hand flew to your head, holding you in place as her hips rocked against your face. You groaned in response, letting her use you as your hands went up to squeeze her breasts.

Sevika’s hips jerked and slowed, a jolt of pleasure coursing through her. “Oh, fuck,” she huffed and you quickly took over at the desperation lacing her voice.

“That’s it, baby. Come on my face,” you encouraged softly, your fingers sinfully circling her clit before parting her folds and adding your tongue back into the mix, pushing into her entrance with short and deep licks.

That was all it took for Sevika to come with a deep groan, grinding hard against your face as her fingers tightened in your hair. You drank up every drop, helping her ride out her orgasm.

When Sevika’s rapid breathing slowed to heavy pants, she was practically dragging you up towards her, her lips clashing into yours in a messy kiss as she tasted herself on your tongue.

You moaned, indulging her for as long as you could before pulling away to suck in a breath. She gazed up at you lovingly, her thumb brushing along your lower lip that glistened with her essence.

“Feel better?” You asked and delighted in the scoff you got in response.

“Much better,” Sevika said with a nod before rolling her eyes at the smug little grin on your face. Her hand dipped, tugging at your pants and you bit back at a laugh at the resulting frown she gave when you stopped her.

“You don’t want me to—” she began and you quickly shook your head.

“I’m fine. Tonight was all about you, remember?” You said, finger tapping against her cheek.

Sevika’s brows furrowed together in that way you knew she was trying to decide whether to be stubborn or relent. Eventually, she sighed and kissed you again, much softer and deeper this time.

“Fine. I’m making it up to you in the morning, though,” she replied resolutely.

You only laughed, pressing swift kisses to her nose and cheek as she grumbled. “I’ll be sure to hold you to that then.”

[abitohoney]

Don't Trust Dustin

Sevika x female reader

Rating: Mature/borderline Explicit, MDNI, NSFW

Tags: Sevika/Reader, strap-ons, spanking, humor, CRACK

Word Count: 1.1k

Summary: I'm 100% calling out @master-sass-blast for this. She held me at gunpoint and threatened to cease creating Sevika and Grayson content if I didn't write this. (Not really, but she asked me to so ofc I'll do this for her. <3) Inspired by this stupid post. Followers, please avert your eyes, this is a CRACK fic, and I take no responsibility for any damage this causes. I promise to return to normal posts after this.

Sevika drags her tired feet through the front door to her home. The home she shares with you. It has been one of those days. Dealing with the aftermath of Jinx’s shenanigans. Being chastised for complaining to Silco about the little shit. The only silver lining to an otherwise shitty day is that she’s coming home to you.

A heavy sigh fills the otherwise quiet entryway while Sevika kicks off her boots. Light shines through the crack in the door leading to the bedroom, and she realizes you must still be up despite the late hours. The tiniest hint of a grin pulls at one corner of her mouth as she makes her way quietly toward the light.

Curious as to what you're up to, she slowly pushes the door open. She finds you, back facing her, donning one of her t-shirts. Nothing odd about that. But when Sevika's gaze drops lower she spots the harness- her harness- wrapped around your sleep shorts. Now that is odd.

"Babe… what are you doing?" Sevika asks suspiciously as she steps into the room.

Lost in what you were doing, you had failed to notice Sevika's return home. You release a startled yelp and drop the bottle of glue you'd had in your hand. But you quickly forget about it, thrilled to see your girlfriend.

With a devious smirk you can't quite disguise, you peer over your shoulder at Sevika as she cautiously approaches you.

"Babe…" she repeats, gray eyes narrowing at the sight of your cheesy smile.

"Hi, Sev," you say sweetly.

Too sweetly, Sevika thinks.

Sevika's attention drops to the glue on the floor, then back up to you as she cocks a brow.

"Why aren't you answering me?" She asks as she slowly stalks around to your front.

"I- uh- I got something for you," you reply with a huge grin.

"Yeah? And what's tha-" Sevika's question falls short the moment she discovers the answer herself. She stands facing you, but she's staring blankly at the silicone toy attached to the front of your harness.

But it's not just a dildo. You enhanced it.

It takes Sevika a solid eight seconds to fully process the googly eyes, smile, and paper crown currently glued to her favorite purple dildo.

Ever so slowly, Sevika raises her eyes to look at your beaming face. Her expression is a mixture of disbelief, exhaustion, and just downright done-with-you.

"This is Sir Bartholomew Penetrator Master of the Thickwood Kingdom, and he wants a nice, sloppy kiss from you," you exclaim, completely undeterred by your girlfriend's obvious lack of enthusiasm for your creation. "From both pairs of lips, if you know what I mean," you add with a waggle of your eyebrows.

Sevika releases a long, deep sigh as she shakes her head. "Are you high?"

Brows furrowed in offense, you shake your head. "No! I'm fine!" Your chipper smile returns and you shake your hips to make the toy dance. Dropping your voice in a pathetic attempt to sound more ‘manly’, you make the toy talk to Sevika, "I just want a kiss from Zaun's scary lady."

Sevika stares at you deadpan. "You were out with Ran and Dustin weren't you?"

"Yeah, but I-"

"And you left your drink unattended, didn't you?"

Your excited expression drops to that of disappointment. Why does she always have to be such a party pooper?

"I had to go to the bathro-"

"What did I tell you about that?"

Now it's your turn to release the long sigh. "Don't leave any food or drink unattended around Dustin. Don't trust Dustin," you answer in a mocking tone while rolling your eyes. "But I'm fine!" You insist. But you aren't. You don't even notice how your words are starting to slur together. Or how you're swaying in your spot. Or how you're still making the strap bob and shake as you move your hips erratically.

But Sevika notices. And she's not amused in the least.

"So you're just naturally this stupid?" Sevika sneers. A smirk starts to pull at her lips as she lets her eyes wander down over your bare legs. "You're lucky you're so damn hot or I'd choke you out right here and now."

"I don't mind being choked," you reply with a sly smile, then make the faux cock add, "Me either!"

You're met with another stony look from your girlfriend, but it doesn't phase you. You're high as a kite and don't even know it.

Done with your games, Sevika grasps the silicone toy by its base and rips it from the harness with enough force to have you toppling forward into her chest. She chucks it across the room, brows furrowed when you peer up at her with a pout.

"Why'd you have to go and do that to poor Sir Barthol-"

"Shut your mouth. Strip. And get your ass on the bed," Sevika demands. "I'm going to fuck the stupid out of you," she murmurs more to herself than to you as she steps away to fetch another harness and undecorated dildo.

You do as you're told, more than eager to let her have her way with you. In record time you've disposed of the harness, her t-shirt, and your shorts. But before you can toss your panties aside, Sevika is there grabbing them from your hands. You peer up at her in confusion.

"Open your mouth," she grunts.

Being the obedient girlfriend you are, you do just that. Only to have it immediately stuffed with your underwear.

"Bed. Now," she demands.

You give her a muffled affirmative and quickly crawl onto the mattress on your hands and knees, squealing like a damn pig when she gives your ass a firm slap with her flesh hand. The deep, sinister chuckle that echoes from behind you is enough to make you momentarily forget the pain. At least until she gets her metal hand on the other cheek.

Sevika's not sure if she's managed to fuck the stupid out of you. Not when you're lying limp with your ass up, wet thighs spread, and ass bright red with hand prints. Nor when your mouth lies slack, cheeks pressed against the sheets soaked by your drool. And definitely not when your eyes are rolled so far back behind your drooping lids that she's certain you must see just how empty your head is.

But, as she removes her strap to clean it, she thinks, at least you shut the fuck up about that damn dildo.

[prettyinpikk]

Ain't nobody

♡This is a Chaka Khan inspired fem!black reader x Sevika ♡

Mind yall this my first time writing a fic so give grace to me but I hope you enjoy part 2 is going to come out when I think of something to write. 😭✊🏽

Silco closed the last drop to renovate it for a couple of months. The new edition to the bar was astonishing. There was a more open sitting area; he even added a second floor, but the main attraction was the added stage in the bar area. Then there's you, the main singer with a matching two-piece bell bottom pants set. It was red with rhinestones decorating each inch of it, and your hair rested in its big fro style.

As you sing and dance around the stage, Sevika walks in just coming from a mission Slico gave to her. Now this is her first time seeing you perform without having to rush off to do Gods know what, so she takes the time to sit at one of the corner booths and observe you carefully. She looks over your body first from head to toe, then she takes in the beautiful head of hair that frames your face so prettily, then finally your face that has turned many heads with those gorgeous brown eyes. One thing Sevika can say is that you are very much an eye candy with the way you move your body so effortlessly with the tone of the music and the prettiest smile on your face she might have thought she was in heaven for a second if it wasn't for Slico calling to her.

Later that night, the Last Drop was closing, and the only people in there were the Slico's employees and you. You were sitting at the bar top, relaxing your throat after a long night of performing. That's when you felt someone behind you. "Can I help you, honey?"

"Maybe it depends on if you want company."

Fully turning around to face the person behind you, you see Sevika standing there tall and confident with a cloak one over her left arm covering the bronze prosthetic recognizing her from around the Last Drop as one of Slicos goons.

"I don't mind, you seem like somebody interesting, Sevika right?"

She gives a stern nod to confirm as she sits down on the bar stool next to you.

"So you're the famous y/n l/n huh?"

"That is me, it seems we have some knowledge of each other, but I hardly see you around Slico must have you working a lot, I presume?”

Sighing, Sevika lights one of her pre rolled blunts. “Always work and no play most days. I guess the same for you?”

“Well I would like to say I'm luckier than you, but having a voice like mine people constantly want to hear it even on days off.”

“Well, we can't have a pretty lady like yourself over work now can we? How bout on your day off I'll help you relax.”

“Relax how?” Now looking at her as if she was about to suggest the most foul thing ever. “I hope you are not trying to work your way into my bedroom Ms.Sevika because I would hate to leave you disappointed.” You say in a stern voice.

Huffing out a small chuckle, Sevika removes her blunt out of her mouth shaking her head. “Nah pretty thing, not at least before taking you out on a date first. I meant more of this you know, just chatting is all nothing more and plus, if I wanted to be in your bedroom I would have already been there.” Sending you that charming ass smirk that always me people quake where they stand or make them beg for more.

“Well ain't you something.” Feeling a small tingle sensation in your stomach, you take a sip of the drink you had been nursing since you ordered it. “But sure, I'll like to get to know the scary lady herself.” Sending her a smirk back.

“Well I have to get back home to my little boy. He gets fussy when I'm not home.”

That stops Sevika in her tracks for a second. Did you just say you have a kid? She didn't take you as a mom type tho nothing is wrong with that it just caught her off guard.

“Huh?”

Laughing at the slightly shocked face she made you move to leave the bar. “Maybe I'll explain tomorrow if you're still interested but good night for now Sevika.” Walking out the door leaving a curious and confused Sevika.

“That woman.”

[ink-and-dagger]

Happy Valentine’s Silco, Sweetie ♥️ 🥃

Silco x fem!reader || Silco x Astrid || Lingerie || semi-NSFW || MDNI || 2k

Lingerie and rose petals was the winning option in Astrid’s poll. So that’s exactly what we’re serving. Drink up simps. Oh, and Happy Valentine’s Day 💜🥃

“I am the all-mighty Eye of ZAUN!”

Your dramatic statement booms around the empty office. 

You snicker. Feels cool.

You pop the crimson lined collar of Silco’s coat a touch higher (to ensure you look as imposing as possible), and kick off the desk to send his high-backed throne (and thusly you) spinning around in a single circle.

“Bow before me! Peasant swine,” you sneer down your nose at the rug. And when it doesn’t heed your command you scribble a quick note on a nearby pad of paper – ‘Have Sevika murder office rug for insubordination.’

You wonder if Silco ever does any of this when he’s alone. He must do. How else would he have gotten so good at being scary?

The wall clock taunts you with its slow percussive song; marking the dragging passage of time. You sigh. It had taken all your wheedling skills to convince Sevika to help you out. All you’d asked was for her to lure Silco away from the office and keep him distracted for half an hour – something she already does most days anyway.

It’s been a whole forty minutes now, and you just know she’s doing it out of spite. She's fully aware how antsy you get whenever you’re forced to wait for anything. 

You scribble another note beneath your first on Silco’s pad, and underline it several times, ‘No tequila for Sevika for a week.’

The pen skitters across the desk as you flick it away in a huff, and comes to a stop beside Silco’s humidor. You eye the glossy wooden box, fingers drumming a restless rhythm on the arms of his chair. You’re already in his coat. And at his desk. Might as well go full hog.

You crack the lid and take a moment to inhale the rich tobacco aroma rising from the neatly lined cigars, before selecting one that takes your particular fancy. You slice and light it just as you’ve been taught, and sink back into the leather chair with an indulgent drag — so distracted by the coiling patterns within the smoke unspooling from between your lips that you hardly notice the office door open and close.

“I don’t think those belong to you.”

The wry comment comes from a lithe, shadowed figure standing across the room – towards whom you puff a near perfect ring of thick smoke.

“Thirty-seven.”

“Pardon?”

“Thirty-seven,” you repeat, gesturing blithely with the smouldering cigar, “That’s how many cigarettes you’ve bummed off me since we first met. I’m merely taking what I’m owed.”

The forge-fire orange of Silco’s eye right stokes bright with silent amusement.

“And the coat?” He enquires.

You shrug, “Goes so nicely with my outfit today that I just couldn’t resist.”

“I’ll have to take your word for it,” he drawls, eyeing the fully buttoned garment, “However, given that it was custom made for me, I would argue that it suits my wardrobe best.”

You purse your lips in thought, reaching for his ashtray to stub out your stolen cigar. The worn-leather of Silco’s chair creaks as you rise and saunter lazily around the desk, thumbing open the coat buttons as you do and relishing the prickling heat of Silco’s attention.

You come to a stop in front of the desk, leaning your hips back against its gilded edge and allowing the coat to fall open. You cock your head coyly.

“Are you sure about that?” You ask.

Even from across the office you're able to fully witness his pupils swelling like spilt pools of ink.

Damn right too. Even you had stopped dead in your tracks to admire your reflection in the full length mirror on your way out of the bedroom. You’re groomed to perfection; hair and makeup just right, skin polished to a glowing lustre, and moisturised to delectable softness. After all, it would be a crime not to pull out all the stops given the sublime artistry of the lingerie set Max has so generously crafted for you.

The balcony bra and high-cut panties embrace your curves like a second skin, and the garter belt which cinches your waist and holds up a pair of silk-spun stockings ties the whole ensemble together flawlessly. Exquisite, charcoal lace trimmings sit against your exposed flesh like mink eyelashes, and frame tantalising panels of sheer burgundy that leave little to the imagination. And if the colour scheme weren’t already enough to stoke the fires of Silco’s highly possessive nature, then no doubt the ornamental golden finishes which so closely resemble those on his very own waistcoat will cinch the deal.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, Silco, sweetie,” you purr.

It pleases you greatly to note the slight tremor in the long, heavy exhale which follows your felicitation. And his low murmured response is dark and thick as treacle, “Oh you wicked little thing.”

The coat shrugs free of your shoulders, and with it you drop all pretence of innocence. Your lips sweep into a devilish smirk; the finishing brushstroke to your lascivious portrait.

Silco stares at you the same way a starved man might a steaming banquet table; overwrought with desire and paralysed by choice. The deep lines on his face slackened with awe, and his two-toned gaze bright with barely contained frenzy. Those long fingers of his twitch down at his sides with the unconscious itch to touch, and the movement draws your gaze to the front of his pants, and the steadily thickening outline which disrupts the neat tailoring.

You peer up at him through your lashes, and crook a single finger. Your silent request breaks his trance, and he prowls across the room towards you with his typical long-legged swagger, clearly trying to remain cool calm and collected. But his impatience bleeds into the speed of his gait. Eager though he may be, Silco’s penchant for self-control is unwavering, and so it doesn’t surprise you in the least that he doesn’t immediately pounce. You know him to be the sort of predator who likes to play with his food first.

Still, he stops close enough for you to bask in his body heat, radiating into the narrow gap left between you, and his shallow breaths fan warm over your skin, as featherlight and tantalising as his skimming fingertips. He traces the shapes in the lace, follows their delicate tracks over the swell of your cleavage, sweeps the backs of his knuckles beneath your breasts in a way that has them growing heavy with desire, the gauzy cups thin enough to tent with your hardening peaks.

Silco’s expression is one of complete enthralment, and it makes you feel unspeakably beautiful.

Heat mounts in your veins, and slides south; journeying alongside the teasing scrape of Silco's blunt fingernails, dragging down the skin of your stomach on their way to toy with your garter belt. Every nerve in your body thrums with hot, electric anticipation. But you know better than to rush him, no matter how maddening the unsated throb between your legs becomes.

You grip the edge of the desk either side of your hips a little tighter, battling the urge to reach out and touch. An impressive feat of restraint, given that the front of his trousers now strains hard enough for the tented fabric to almost brush your hip.

Your gaze flits up and down, switching between the hungry burn of his eyes and the elegant fingers which trail down the lines of your garters. He slips a forefinger beneath one strap and runs the satin-wrapped elastic between his pad and thumb, knuckle grazing the skin of your thigh. You suck in a sharp breath, and hold it high in your lungs when he draws the strap abruptly away from your leg, and keeps it poised and taut above your bare thigh like the string of a loaded longbow.

Your eyes lock.

And you search the flame and ocean depths of his gaze for any clue as to when he’ll let go. 

The scar on his lip shifts as the corner of his mouth hooks into a sinful little smirk.

The seconds pass in charged silence. Your breath bated until a prickling flush creeps up over your chest and into your cheeks. Your nerves squeeze tighter and tighter until you can hardly bear the anticipation any longer.

Only then does he release.

The garter snaps against your skin like the crack of a whip, sending a stinging burst of exquisite pain racing straight up your spine, and your mouth falls open with a gasping little squeak.

The pleased crease at the edge of Silco’s lips deepens, and he begins plucking delicately at the opposite garter, playing it like a harp string, sending the strap pinging lightly against your thigh over and over. The repeated stimulation of the same spot, no matter how softly, mounts in intensity until you’re squirming, and biting your lower lip to keep from whimpering.

He finally grants mercy with an arrogant little chuckle, and his broad palms smooth up over your hips to grip your waist. He takes the final step into your space, and gazes straight into your soul.

“You are the most divine thing I have ever laid eyes upon,” he murmurs, dark and gravelled, but so emphatically sincere that his words embed straight into the walls of your heart.

He leans close, but bypasses your lips in favour of grazing the sharp blade of his nose up your cheekbone, down over the hinge of your jaw, and lower still to nudge at your thrumming pulse point.

“You like your present, then?”

A rumbling hum is your answer, and a soft press of lips against your throat sends your head tipping back, eyelashes fluttering in bliss.

“I do, sweetheart, very much so. It almost seems a shame to unwrap it.”

You smirk to yourself, running your palms up his burgundy shirtsleeves whilst he continues to plant slow, sensual kisses upon your neck. You bring your lips to the shell of his ear.

“So don’t,” you whisper, nipping at his lobe, “The panties are crotchless.”

Gods the noise he makes against your skin at that is one you’ll spend your life replaying the memory of. Half ragged moan, half animalistic growl, embellished by the clatter of pens and paper as he pushes himself insistently against you, hard enough to rattle the entire desk.

Seems the limit on his control has been reached.

His hands drag and paw and squeeze over soft swells of flesh, and he attacks your throat in a hot, wet frenzy that makes your knees buckle and your head spin. You cup the back of his skull, fingers burying between the short dark strands to dig into his scalp. Unable to help the way you arch your body into him. Salivating at the thick, hard press of his clothed cock into your belly.

“You can’t have me here,” you pant, tugging at his hair.

He pulls back slowly, eyes glittering dark and dangerous, “Can’t?” The word slinks from his mouth in a way that suggests he knows of its meaning, but he does not accept that it could apply to him.

“Can’t,” you confirm with an impish smirk, brave enough to touch the tip of your nose lovingly to his even as he bares his teeth in a low snarl like some ridiculous man-dog, “You can have me on the bed, because that is where I scattered all the rose petals.”

“Rose petals?” The beast recedes just a touch and he arches a single, dark brow.

“That’s right.” Your voice drips with honey, thick and sultry, and you run indulgent palms over the lean lines of his torso, “A nice big bed, covered in rose petals, upon which I plan to romance you thoroughly,” you tip your face towards his to whisper against his lips, “and worship you the way you deserve.”

His chest brushes against yours with each of his shallow inhales, and his lust-heavy gaze is dark and ravenous. Your mouth pulls into a slow, wide grin, still half-pressed against his.

“What say you, handsome? Do we have a deal?”

“In essence,” Silco murmurs.

You yelp in surprise when he lifts you suddenly, grabbing his shoulders and instinctively wrapping your legs around his waist. His fingers sink into the giving flesh of your buttocks, and he strides towards the bedroom with you in his arms.

“However, darling, I think you’ll find that I will be the one doing the worshipping.”

[dissapointu]

ARCANE characters x Innocent S/O headcannons

____________________________________________

Jinx

• Playful Corruption: Jinx lives for how easily you blush or get flustered. She’ll drop the wildest innuendos just to watch your face turn bright red. “What? Did I say something wrong?” she teases with a mischievous grin.

• Childlike Chaos: Your innocence balances her chaotic energy perfectly. She adores your wholesome reactions to her antics and will sometimes soften her usual mischief just to make you smile.

• Bedroom Teasing: In intimate moments, Jinx is both playful and surprisingly attentive. She loves guiding you through new experiences, her hands ghosting over your skin as she whispers, “Don’t worry, doll. I’ll show you how it’s done.”

Vi

• Protective Big Sister Vibes: Your innocence brings out Vi’s protective side. She’ll shield you from Zaun’s darker realities and anyone who tries to take advantage of your trusting nature. “Don’t worry, babe. No one’s messing with you while I’m around.”

• Loves to Tease: Vi can’t resist playfully poking at your naivety, but it’s always affectionate. “You seriously didn’t get that joke? Oh, babe, you’re too pure for this world,” she says with a laugh, pulling you in for a hug.

• Gentle Passion: In private, Vi is surprisingly tender. She takes her time, guiding you through every touch and kiss. “You okay? Just say the word, and I’ll stop,” she murmurs, her voice full of care.

Sevika

• Smirking All the Time: Sevika finds your innocence endlessly amusing and lowkey endearing. She loves dropping suggestive comments just to see you fumble for a response.

• Teaches You the Ropes: Whether it’s poker, drinking games, or…other activities, Sevika loves showing you the darker, more thrilling sides of Zaun. “Stick with me, sweetheart. I’ll take good care of you.”

• Domineering in the Bedroom: When it comes to intimacy, Sevika takes full control. She loves guiding you step by step, her deep voice soothing yet commanding. “Relax, baby. Let me show you how it’s done.”

Silco

• Fatherly Patience: Silco appreciates your innocence as a rarity in his gritty world. He admires how you see things with such optimism and takes his time explaining the harsh realities in a way that won’t break your spirit.

• Subtle Seduction: Silco enjoys using his smooth, persuasive tone to draw you out of your shell. “Come now, my dear. Let me teach you the ways of the world,” he says, his gaze intense but tender.

• Slow and Intentional: In intimate moments, Silco is precise and patient. He takes his time exploring what makes you tick, savoring every sound and reaction you give him. “You’re exquisite, my love. Absolutely exquisite.”

Vander

• Protective & Gentle: Vander treasures your innocence, seeing it as a breath of fresh air in his rough life. He’s fiercely protective of you and goes out of his way to ensure you’re safe and happy.

• Big Softie Energy: He loves your wholesome nature and enjoys simple moments with you, like teaching you how to pull a perfect pint or listening to you ramble about something you’re passionate about.

• Intimate Tenderness: Vander is incredibly soft and gentle in the bedroom. His large hands cradle you carefully as he murmurs sweet reassurances. “Just tell me if it’s too much, love. I want this to be perfect for you.”

Ekko

• Adorable Duo: Ekko thinks your innocence is absolutely adorable and finds your reactions to his jokes or compliments hilarious. He’ll often say something flirty just to see you squirm.

• Patient Teacher: Whether he’s showing you around Zaun or teaching you new skills, Ekko is incredibly patient and encouraging. “You’ve got this, babe. Just take it one step at a time.”

• Playful Yet Caring: In intimate moments, Ekko keeps things light and fun, easing your nerves with jokes and soft kisses. “Don’t worry, sweetheart. We’ve got all the time in the world.”

Jayce

• Golden Retriever Boyfriend: Jayce loves your innocent nature and often acts like your personal cheerleader. He’s always there to hype you up or explain something you don’t understand without making you feel silly.

• Big on Reassurance: He constantly tells you how amazing you are, especially if you’re feeling overwhelmed. “You don’t have to know everything, babe. Just be yourself—that’s more than enough.”

• Loving Exploration: Jayce is incredibly affectionate and patient when it comes to intimacy. He takes his time, kissing every inch of you and making sure you’re comfortable every step of the way.

Viktor

• Gentle Curiosity: Viktor finds your innocence fascinating and refreshing. He loves explaining complex ideas to you and is always amazed by how quickly you pick things up.

• Soft Protectiveness: Viktor has a quiet but strong desire to protect you from the darker sides of Piltover and Zaun. He’s always looking out for you, whether it’s offering his arm while walking or pulling you closer during tense moments.

• Tender & Thoughtful: Intimacy with Viktor is full of soft touches and whispered reassurances. “You’re so beautiful, my love. There’s no rush—we’ll take this as slow as you need.”

Caitlyn

• Gentle Encourager: Caitlyn adores your innocence and often takes on the role of your guide in Piltover’s social scene. She’s patient and kind, never making you feel out of place.

• Sweet & Supportive: Caitlyn is incredibly affectionate, always finding small ways to reassure you—whether it’s holding your hand in public or giving you soft kisses when you’re flustered.

• Soft Yet Passionate: In private, Caitlyn’s love shines through in every touch. She’s gentle yet firm, always focused on making you feel cherished. “You’re perfect, darling. Let me show you just how much you mean to me.”

[sadplaguedoctor]

grief

⤷ silco x fem!reader

summary: you’ve been taking silco’s death rather hard and found yourself doing almost anything to remember him, even if that means masturbating in his chair.

tags: solo masturbation, referenced major character death, scent kink, grief, angst, hurt no comfort, you are going slightly mad

It’s been two months. Two whole months since Silco had gone and died and left you here alone to fend for yourself— something you had gotten used to not having to do after so many years of being with him.

His office was quieter than before, and cold. So very cold. You no longer had the option of pushing yourself up next to him despite his grumbles about “distraction” and “important business”. You no longer felt his arms wrapped around your body late at night. The rise and fall of his chest was now forgotten.

Though, you were determined to keep him alive in any way you could. You slept in his bed, wore some old jewelry of his, wrapped yourself up in the clothes he had gifted you time and time again. Even sprayed yourself with his cologne— just a bit, making sure to get it mostly on his clothes that were saved for bedtime.

His pillows still faintly smelled of him. The amount of times you had turned your head to shove your nose into the fabric all while burying your fingers within yourself was lost to you.

Sometimes, you would cry. Cry because your fingers weren’t his and would never be his again. They didn’t reach the areas that he touched with so much grace, nor were they as rough. It was a reminder of the empty husk he had left you to wallow in.

“I still feel your presence,” you spoke quietly, talking to a figment of the past as you dragged your fingertips across Silco’s desk. “I still see you. In the dark, in our bed.”

There was no doubt that your sanity had been slipping ever since the incident. You would hear his voice speaking to you and guiding you throughout your day. Sometimes, you’d see him duck behind alleys or stand silently in the corner of his bedroom. You often found yourself fighting the urge to follow these hallucinations, but then with one simple blink, he disappeared.

“Jinx tells me I’m going crazy, but I see it in her eyes. She feels the same. We all do.”

It broke you to see the distant look in Jinx’s eyes when she thought no one was looking— but it hurt even more to see the rabid, pure unadulterated fury in them. Sure, you both got to see and feel different versions of Silco, but the pain of loosing him was similar. It was sorrow, it was dejection, it was rage.

But, truly, what good did crying do? It wouldn’t bring him back. No matter how many times you screamed into his pillow, begging for one little sign that he was still watching over you. You remained cold.

His chair still felt the same against your body, the softness of the plush leather stuck to your skin the same way it used to. It kept you warm during nights spent staring off into space, reminiscing on old memories you could never experience again.

Though, you were weak. You could only spend so much time inhaling his scent without becoming eager and internally frustrated.

One arm rest dug into your back as your legs draped over the other— head turned so your nose could press against the back of the chair, taking in as much of his lingering scent as you could without having to gasp for air.

Jeans pooled at your ankles and your legs shook, fingers hurriedly pumping in and out of your cunt while you wriggled and writhed on the leather.

“You were always so desperate with me. I must say, I’m quite pleased to see that spark never dulled.”

You could hear him. His voice echoed in your mind like his lips hovered by your ear, taunting you.

“Damn you,” you whispered, closing your mouth quickly after to muffle any sounds of pleasure that dared to escape you. “Damn you for leaving me.”

A jolt shot through your body and your thighs clenched tightly around your wrist, head thrown back as you choked on your own breath. Your movements were feral, unhinged and like he said, desperate. So were the tears that cascaded down your cheeks, pooling at the corners of your lips which began to part and make way for broken sobs and groans.

When you came, you kept your fingers tucked inside you— not ready to get rid of that stretch, that sensation of being full and his. Silco’s name bubbled up in your throat and died on your tongue, the taste sour and grey.

“Good girl,” he whispered once more, a light pressure pushing against your temple. You clung to that. Clung to the phantom kiss that would fuel your desires and delusions for days to come.

He was gone, you knew that. But the figure that vanished the moment you opened your eyes, promised otherwise.

Even in death, he haunted you.

i wrote this the very moment i woke up this morning and posted it an hour after. this wasn’t the first and will not be the last time i wake up to the thought of silco.

[sweatandwoe]

131 with Silco?? pretty please 🙏

Listing the prompt because it's not words: Hands firm on their thighs, keeping them from snapping them shut. You got it anon

MDNI - From Smut Prompt List

Tags: Silco x F!Reader, Breeding Kink, P in V sex, Creampie.

-

Silco had a tendency to put his all into everything. A man of passion that extended to all corners of his life, especially in the bedroom.

Legs and arms curl around him while he leaves only one hand on your hip, the other on the small of your back. The heel of your foot presses against his ass, while his hips snap against your own. Teeth graze over your neck. "Touch yourself, sweetheart." He's panting and you know he's close himself just from the breaths he's taking but his gaze is stern. "I want to hear you scream when you cum."

The order is followed easily, hand slipping from where it had been clawing at his back to your clit and rubbing in quick circles. Getting you to gasp. It has his head lifting, watching your face for any subtle movements while he continues to thrust.

"Tell me how good it is. Let me hear you scream, darling." There are a few slower, harsh thrusts next to emphasize his point before he falls back to the old pace. "Then I'm going to finish right here, inside of you. And I'll keep doing it until it takes." Even his teal eye is firey while he stares at you. "Going to make sure everyone knows you're mine."

The back of your head presses against the pillow it's against while your back arches. Thighs shake, while he fucks you through your orgasm, laughing lowly while you scream his name.

"Good girl," the praise is dripping with heat, and he moves both hands to your hips. Your pleasure sated, he only chases his own now. Thrusting hard and fast until they grow erratic and his words slur and stutter. When he cums, it's with his hips pressed against your own, buried deep within you, and groaning against the crook of your neck.

You both lay there for a few moments, panting and taking in your breath. Sweat-slick skin pressing against one another, while hands drag slowly down as the cloudy haze of pleasure slowly lifts from your minds.

He moves first, and you think he's about to slip from you, grab a towel or something to clean you both up with. So you move your legs, bringing your thighs together. Or trying to, before firm hands rest on your thighs, holding them apart.

"Darling," his voice is deep, ragged with what you had both just done. One of his hands begins to rub circles on your skin, the mismatched gaze staring down at you has not lost any of its heat. "I believe I said, 'Until it takes'. I doubt once would be enough."

He smirks, giving a small thrust, churning the warmth you can start to feel leaking out. The man is pressing it back in, and he moves to brush his lips against your own, in something far more tender and featherlight than what was going on with the lower half of your bodies. "And have I ever been one to leave a job unfinished?"

You know that's a rarity, not that you can voice, while his mouth claims yours again. But you know what you're in for now.

Silco won't stop, not until the job is done.

[moonlightshaiku]

To Get Rid Of

Gaster x Grillby x Reader

Word Count: 866

Warnings: panic attacks

Ao3: here!

Notes:

There's another part to this? But its late and I dont wanna post it?

Also I have a bunch of silco shit because my taste is men alone could get me a grippy sock vaycay

Tag List:

You knew it was coming. Perhaps the fact that it was gradual was why it hurt more. Would it have hurt this much if you'd just ripped the bandaid off? Were you perhaps just back to your old habits? Staying so long that it was joy they left, because of all the time they had to hurt you?

You truly didn't know.

He'd been coming by your apartment more often, Gaster was still stuck there. They would sit on the couch and talk.

At first, it was sweet. Old lovers. Then you felt more like a child at the adults table.

At first you'd simply excuse yourself to the bathroom. Fifteen minutes later, when you would show back up, they wouldn't say a word. None of Gaster's sarcastic, "drown in there?" Quips. You'd slowly backed further and further away, hurt that they'd not noticed, and confused as to why you kept on hurting yourself with the knowledge.

Slowly the bathroom trios were bedroom trips. Kitchen trips, too. Thirty minutes, then an hour.

Gaster had just requested you give Grillby the spare key. You obliged.

Now you sit at a café. It had started as trips to the corner store. Grabbing drinks for you and Gaster, snacks for you all.

You hadn't even bothered to go home yet. You knew you would before Grillby left. Just to see if they noticed. And surely they would this time, but you're sure you'll just lie.

You can't quite keep away. It hurts, but a quick ruffle of your hair from Gaster has those feelings sinking away. They come back moments later, as he excuses himself to the couch, but at least they leave.

You wouldn't call it a drug. Not at all. The weed in your drawers is more pleasant. It doesn't hurt when you don't smoke it. Nor does the nicotine.

You run each moment over and over again in your mind. Before you knew Grillby existed, before you had entered his restaurant. Before you had hesitantly told the bartender that Gaster had shown up in your closet, and couldn't leave. Before you invited the man of fire over.

You knew about his "fear of touch" before you'd met the elemental. Gaster had explained in a long, drawn-out retelling of their "love story" how Grillby was afraid. Losing his temper meant losing control of his temperature. That slip in control could hurt more than his countertops. And it had.

You hadn't expected touch, but perhaps you had hoped for it. Even more so when you saw the way he clung to Gaster.

It had never happened. It never will. As soon as Gaster fully fades into existence, and is no longer attached to your apartment, they'll both leave you. Gaster will live at Grillby's, and you'll never visit the restaurant again.

Except, one part of you fears, they'll know where you live. You don't know about Grillby, but Gaster is determined (and a tad paranoid). A few missed calls and ignored texts, and he'll be at your door.

And then you'll somehow have to explain the obvious.

"Yes Gaster. You kissing me, confiding in me and then just leaving? Fucking hurt, dude."

And maybe he'd bring Grillby. And that information would make Grillby upset, wouldn't it? Not to mention, it's just an awkward thing to say with company. So maybe you wouldn't say it.

Maybe you could close the door in his face? But that's too dramatic. And lying to him would hurt, but you're not out of the practice by any means.

You'd just tell him you're okay. Busy. Promotion. Moving out soon.

And maybe you would move. Maybe you wouldn't.

Back to your hometown. Not quite a small one. Not quite a city either. All the teens know each other, but not an adult has a clue. 

You zone back in momentarily. At the shaking of your hands and the jerking of your chest, you try to zone out again. Thinking about it is easier than feeling it.

And you're in a public place.

But tears are blurring your vision, your coffee liquefied and white in your eyes. 

Each breath comes out ragged and short.

Your chest keeps jerking with every breath.

You so desperately want to end it, but crying feels more freeing.

You make your way to stand up. There's a bathroom.

Your leg catches on the seat of the booth, making a sound.

It sounds loud, you're not sure if it is.

It feels like everyone is staring. You don't know if they are.

Everything's a hot blur as you walk, coming to your senses as you close and lock the door.

Stuck in a decorated box, you wheeze for air.

It's too loud, and so are your sobs.

You want to sit on the ground. It's cold, hard. It's refreshing.

And it's probably covered in piss.

You lean in a corner and hug yourself instead. It offers little-to-no comfort. The floor looks so nice.

But instead, you choke on your tears. No form of comfort to give yourself.

Gaster was comforting. 

But he didn't want you, he needed you, and he doesn't need you anymore.

And you don't want to walk away.

Reply to feed papa

[ace-of-zaun]

Pas de Deux pt. 9:

Silco x f!reader, 11k words, SFW

CW: obsessive silco, kidnapping (please see part 1 for the full series warnings!) 

Chapter warnings: canon-typical violence, assault, threats, arguments, angst, drugging, unresolved sexual tension, hurt/comfort, fluff, (also, this chapter is quite long, around 11k words!)  

PART 1 | PART 2 | PART 3 | PART 4 | PART 5 | PART 6 | PART 7 | PART 8 | PART 10

A dulled click followed by a series of light footsteps across your bedroom floor is what rouses you from your slumber, as you disconcertingly try to blink away the headache forming behind your skull. 

It’s still pitch black in your room, so you surmise it must be the middle of the night, or at the very least, early morning. One hand covers your forehead as you squint into the darkness, pushing up on one elbow to get a better look at the shadows of your room. 

“Silco?” you whisper, your throat dry and scratchy. 

In your post-sleep daze, you assume that he’s either entered your room to look through your belongings while you sleep or maybe tonight’s the night he’s finally decided to try to sneak into bed with you. 

You squeeze your eyes shut in an attempt to clear the last remnants of sleep from them when suddenly a wet cloth is shoved against your face, completely covering your mouth and nose. Instinctually, you try to gasp, but in doing so you almost inhale some of the wet cloth into your mouth causing you to splutter against it. 

Wrenching your eyes open, you try to get a glimpse of your assailant but before you can another hand is slapped over your eyes, violently forcing your head to bounce back down against the pillow below you. 

The mattress beside you dips as your attacker climbs onto the bed with you and your whole body thrashes against them until a knee is abruptly jammed into your stomach, knocking all the breath from your rapidly constricting lungs. 

With your vision blocked and senses disoriented, you desperately try to claw at the hands covering your face as your nasal passage quickly becomes overwhelmed by a sickeningly sweet odour. And despite the pure panic flooding through your heart, your limbs soon begin to feel numb and heavy, no longer responding to your brain’s signals to fight. 

Fuck. Fuck, why can’t you move your arms?

You need to get away from this person, you need to fight. 

In a last ditch attempt to save yourself, you try with all your might to scream Silco’s name, but instead it comes out as a soft, slurred mumble against the cloth, your mind becoming foggier and foggier with each passing second. 

“S…Sil…” you mutter incoherently, practically tasting defeat as you succumb to the murky depths of sleep.

And just before unconsciousness reclaims your exhausted body, you find yourself thinking of Silco, delusionally hoping that he can somehow hear your desperate, internal pleas to… just… 

save… me… 

please…

…

You’re jolted back into consciousness when a cupful of water is thrown onto your face sending a violent shudder through your freezing body. It’s not enough water to soak you completely, but it is enough to startle you, leaving you gasping for air in shock. 

It takes a second too long for you to catch your breath, only adding to your confusion as you try to figure what the hell is happening to you. 

For the second time in a night, you peel open your sore eyes, blanching at the sudden light that assaults your senses. You scrunch your nose up and release a pained groan as you try to lift your aching arms. 

It’s not until they won’t budge that you realise they’re tied somewhere above you whilst your legs are tied down. 

The next thing that you realise is that you’re lying flat out on a soft surface… 

…no, a bed. 

A confused blink down at the bedsheets leads you to slowly recognise them as your own bedsheets…

You’re still on your bed.

Great, the sarcastic part of your brain supplies, at least you’ve not been kidnapped from your kidnapper. 

“Rise and shine, sleepyhead,” a purposefully trill voice calls from your side that instantly annoys you before your sluggish mind has even identified its owner. 

Being the only part of your body that you can currently move, you swivel your head to the side, only to find Jinx lounging in your chair, staring down at you with her usual pissed off expression. 

You frown in confusion despite it absolutely killing your head to do so. 

Why isn’t she helping you? Or at the very least, why hasn’t she run to get Silco?

You’ve been attacked, you need-

It dawns on you far too late and it coincides with an impossibly smug look bleeding across her features. She’s the one who knocked you out and tied you up. That’s why she’s not rushing to get you help.

Jinx is the one who did this to you.

White hot rage blasts through your veins like heat rushing through the corridors of an exploding building.

“You little shit,” you snarl at her, struggling against the ropes around your wrists and ankles. “Untie me. Right now.”

The sardonic expression slowly curls into a dangerous smirk.

“Flattery won’t get you anywhere,” she says, leaning forward almost conspiratorially, as if she’s telling you a secret. “Now, you’re going to answer my questions or I’m going to start removing fingers.” 

A quick spin of her pistol on her lithe fingers has your stomach dropping in spite of the murderous look you’re sending her. 

It strikes you that she’s acting far older and far more powerful than she actually is, which makes you wonder if this demeanour and these overly dramatic words are something she’s learned from Silco.

You really wouldn’t put it past him to teach her the fundamentals of torture. Real Father of the Year material…

Speaking of, you know just the thing to stop this outrageous behaviour. 

“Silco!” you abruptly scream at the top of your lungs, despite the pain in your throat making it feel like it’s been scratched into ribbons.

Jinx’s face drops in panic as she lunges off the chair towards you, grabbing a cloth from the bedside table and shoving it into your open mouth. You automatically grimace at the disgusting, sodden flavour that hits your taste buds. 

“Shut up!” she hisses.

You shake your head from side to side, trying to spit out or dislodge the cloth from your mouth, but you soon realise that it’s utterly futile, so you let your head fall back on the pillow. Your eyes slowly blink to look up at her, casually mumbling against the cloth until she gets visibly annoyed and promptly rips it back out. 

Now it’s your turn to adopt her favoured smug expression as you employ an awful, sickly-sweet tone of voice to match. 

“And how, pray tell, am I supposed to answer your questions with my mouth covered?” 

Her face tightens in irritation, revealing her youth and completely betraying her previous attempts to act like a ruthless chem-baron. She ignores your sardonic question and launches into her own line of interrogation. 

“Who are you? What does Silco want with you?”

You roll your eyes dramatically to mask how shaken up you actually are. 

“I thought we’d already had this conversation,” you say monotonously, as if you’ve never been more bored in your life. 

Jinx ignores you and continues her questioning. 

“Who do you work for? Who sent you here?” she demands. 

You splay your hands in surrender until you feel the ropes beginning to burn into your skin. 

“Alright, you got me,” you tell her with an exaggerated sigh. “I was sent by the council to spy on your father.” 

Her hand darts out to slap you across the face and you almost gasp in shock.

The stunned reaction quickly develops into pure ire as your anger returns tenfold, practically spitting nails as you swivel your head back to face her. 

It’s on the tip of your tongue to hiss that you’re her new mother and that you and Silco don’t want her anymore when the door to your bedroom abruptly slams open.

You jump as far as your bonds will allow you as both yours and Jinx’s heads snap over to the open doorway, revealing an out-of-breath Silco clutching onto the wood like it’s a lifeline. 

It completely passes you by how easily your body floods with relief at the mere sight of him. 

You take in the way he just stares at you, his mouth actually hanging open a little as his eyes trail up and down your body. It’s difficult to tell from across the room, but you’re pretty sure he looks flushed…

He instantly snaps out of it when Jinx huffs loudly beside you. 

Silco storms over to you in a few, determined strides, calling your name in a worried tone. 

And in true Jinx fashion, she angrily mumbles something under her breath before flouncing out of the room, breezing past Silco in a blur of blue and purple. He pays her no mind, his focus solely on you. 

“Are you alright, darling?” he asks, voice rough and low.

"Not really," you reply, as Silco gently rests a hand on your cheek.

He takes a moment to quickly scan over your supine form, eyes darting over each part of you in a way that you’re not entirely sure is solely in concern, before he reaches down to untie the ropes holding your ankles to the bed. 

"What happened? Are you hurt?"

You scoff. 

"Your daughter drugged me, tied me up, assaulted me, and interrogated me like a common criminal," you say haughtily, despising the way you sound like those snooty Pilties you always hated when you were living Topside. 

But it serves its purpose because Silco’s expression immediately hardens in response. 

Having released your ankles, he moves up the bed to undo the ropes around your wrists, allowing you to heave a sigh of relief when you’re finally free to prop yourself up against the headboard. 

Silco sinks down onto the bed, pushing his hair back with his own sigh, except his is borne out of frustration and worry. 

You realise in this moment, as the dull morning light mixed with the faux neon bathes his features in a diluted green hue, just how tired he looks. You force yourself to ignore the pang it sends through your chest. 

"I apologise for her behaviour,” he says carefully, like he’s searching for the correct words. "She has… difficulties trusting new people." 

It takes every little piece of energy you have left not to say something sarcastic. 

Receiving no response from you, Silco gently takes your face in both his hands, tilting your head up so he can search your eyes with his own in quick, flitting motions. 

You shuffle uncomfortably a little when you become aware of how close he is to you after you’ve basically just woken up. You haven’t washed or brushed your teeth since last night, and your hair must look a sight after having water thrown all over it.

Truthfully, you can’t remember the last time somebody saw you looking this vulnerable. 

But Silco doesn’t seem to mind, even tracing his thumb soothingly across your cheek to settle your nerves. 

"You said she drugged you?" he asks when you still don’t respond, too bewildered by his acceptance of you to even think about it. 

His words seem to snap you back into your role, the cogs in your brain slowly grinding again as you consider how you can use this to your advantage. 

Well, right off the bat, you should probably pretend that you have no idea what chloroform is. Whilst an ex-revolutionary from Zaun might know about the properties and uses of such a compound, a Piltie ballerina probably wouldn’t. 

And if you can somehow turn this so that Silco finally gets Jinx off your back, then even better. 

"Well, I think she did," you begin, purposefully making your voice sound small and confused as you explain what happened. "She put this wet cloth on my face and it made me fall unconscious." 

Silco’s lips thin in anger.

"I will send for the doctor to check you over," he informs you, words precise and neat. 

Your mind flashes back to that horrible examination you experienced all that time ago, when you’d pretended to be sick in an attempt to gather some chemical weapons. Even thinking about that torture chamber of a room sends a shiver down your spine, let alone the way Singed had examined you like a zoo animal. 

"No, it's fine," you interject quickly. "I'm fine." 

Of course, Silco looks entirely unconvinced by your sudden protests so you set about trying to reassure him, one hand placed on his arm. 

"I promise, Sil. I think it just shook me up, is all." 

He immediately stares at the way your fingers rest against him before taking both of your hands in his, turning your palms over to inspect the faint marks caused by the ropes Jinx had tied you up with.

You’ve honestly never seen him look so torn and you jump at the opportunity like you’re being handed a free meal. 

"I just don't understand why she hates me," you tell him dejectedly, trying to look as deflated as you possibly can. "I don't know what I've done to upset her. I'm trying my best, but I feel like she just has it out for me." 

There’s a brief pause where he’s undoubtedly considering the best way to fix all of this and you let him sit in it all, offering no more words of encouragement. 

"I will speak to her, my lovely," he eventually says.

You wait patiently for him to elaborate on just what exactly he’ll say to her but instead Silco leans forward to rest his forehead against yours, slowly placing and holding your hand against his chest until your palm is flat and your fingers are splayed underneath his. 

It’s not until you’ve felt a few, errant heartbeats that you realise he’s not quite fully dressed. Donned in only his shirt, trousers, and socks, your partner looks strangely domestic, especially without the usual amount of pomade keeping his jet hair slicked back. 

"No rehearsals today; you need to rest," he murmurs, good eye now closed. 

You pull back to look at him with a frown, for some reason, completely lost for words. 

"Give me a moment to speak to Jinx and then I'll take you to my office," he continues, placing a kiss on the hand that was previously held to his chest. "What do you say to some breakfast?" 

"Okay," you agree absentmindedly, finding yourself in a strange daze.

It must be the crazy morning you’ve just had. Anyone would be jarred if their ‘step-daughter’ had just snuck into their room and knocked them out. 

Silco gazes at you with an unreadable expression and you briefly wonder how he’s feeling. How he views this whole messed up situation. 

He speaks before you can even think about voicing that particular thought.  

"Don't worry, darling. I will fix this for you." 

And with that, Silco kisses your forehead ardently, gets up from the bed, and crosses the room to leave, the door quietly clicking shut behind him. 

You vaguely hear him speaking to the guard outside your door, but you don’t bother to listen in. Truthfully, you don’t think you have the energy. 

Instead, you lean back against the headboard and close your eyes. 

- 

Silco marches down the corridor towards Jinx’s bedroom, frustration coursing through him as he ponders his next move. Every attempt at mollifying Jinx thus far had been completely and utterly disastrous. 

Directly after he’d revealed his love for you the evening before, Jinx had stared at him intensely for a brief few seconds in a way that he’d never seen from his surrogate daughter. Then, she’d roughly grabbed his face with one hand and practically slammed the injector in place against the socket of his eye, pressing the button down so the medicated needle lanced his corrupted pupil before he could react.

Silco had grunted in pain, his limbs seizing for a millisecond at the unexpected agony rushing through his bloodstream. 

Unable to do anything but hunch over, he’d been powerless to stop her when Jinx had  dropped the injector on his desk and slunk out of his office, refusing to wait when he called out for her in a strained voice.

By the time his body had relaxed enough so that he could move, Silco was exhausted and Jinx was no doubt already halfway to her workshop. So, with a heavy sigh, he’d decided to give her some space, all the while ignoring the quiet, little voice in the back of his head that persistently worried he was losing his daughter. 

Now, Silco wishes he’d have made the trip to her workshop last night. Maybe then he would have had the opportunity to talk to her about the whole situation, perhaps even stopping her violent plan before it could be put into motion.

Silco finally reaches her bedroom door, pausing for a moment to gather himself and ensure he’s in the right state of mind for this conversation. Unfortunately for him, his mind is still locked on the image of you tied to your bed, a picture his fantasies had been supplying him for quite some time now, since the very first time he’d set eyes on you back in that gallery. 

And to actually see you in such a position? Lying prone and all breathless for him? Gods, it had felt like he was living in a wild dream, a wave of desire immediately washing over his stiff body at the sight. 

But right now he needs to focus on how he can fix this conflict between the two most important people in his life, not on his need for you. 

Silco takes a deep breath, and upon finding the door left open, raps his knuckles on the wood twice before pushing it. 

Over the years, Jinx had made it clear that a closed door meant knock and wait, whereas an open door meant that he was welcome to step inside the room. Regardless, Silco still preferred to knock, if only to announce his presence. 

He locates her immediately, sprawled on a bean bag chair between her bed and a chest of drawers, lollipop in mouth, nonchalantly lounging like she hasn’t just drugged you and tied you up so she could interrogate you.

The careless indifference instantly riles him up, undoing the precise steps he’d taken to approach her in a calm manner as his anger levels begin to rise once more. 

She’s not even sorry that she just attacked the woman he loves. 

“Jinx,” he barks, stepping further into the room once she acknowledges his presence with the tiniest inhale of breath. “Explain.”

“Explain what?” she asks, her voice dripping with faux innocence, still not looking at him.

“Why would you do such a thing?” Silco demands. 

She shrugs, her lips turning down exaggeratedly, head cocking to the side with the gesture.  

“Where did you get the chloroform? The ropes?”

“Stole them,” she replies, holding the lollipop up to the light, pretending to inspect it thoroughly. “I wouldn’t spend money on her.”

Silco’s fists clench tightly at the sides of his legs. 

"Jinx!" 

Finally snapping her head to look across at him, she mimics his sharp timbre, “What? I don’t get why you’re so worked up about it. She deserved it.”

Silco’s blood is slowly beginning to boil as the flames of his anger lick at his insides. As usual, Jinx barely even notices. 

“This has gone too far, you will-”

“If you ask me, it hasn’t gone far enough,” Jinx interrupts, shuffling in the bean bag chair to sit up slightly. “She’s hiding something.”

Silco huffs loudly at the sheer audacity. 

“Jinx, child. We are all hiding something.”

She rolls her eyes and tilts her head up to glare at him, rudely pointing the lollipop at his chest. 

“Yeah, but I think she’s trying to hurt you.”

He forces himself to take yet another moment to get his breathing under control before he accidentally lashes out and does something stupid like kick her wardrobe. 

Once he’s a fraction calmer, Silco makes a conscious decision to actually listen to her. Not because he believes her outlandish theories, but for the simple reason that it must be incredibly frustrating to have her father constantly dismiss her concerns. 

When he speaks again, the tone of his voice is much, much softer. 

“Why would you think that?”

“I just think there’s more going on with her, y’know?” she explains emphatically. “Like, there’s something… off about her.”

He sighs, coming to a crouch in front of her so he’s no longer towering over his daughter, finally able to look her in the eye. 

Silco needs her to understand. 

“Jinx. I assure you, she is not a threat,” he says in the most soothing voice he can. 

“You still haven’t told me why she’s even here,” she stresses when it looks like he’s not going to believe her. “If you’re ‘in love’, or whatever, then why doesn’t she sleep in your bedroom? Why don’t you let her leave the bar?”

“I-” 

Silco manages to cut himself off before he can launch into a rant about how he does let you leave and that he desperately wants you in his bed. More than anything at this point in time. 

Instead, he settles on a calmer, more careful explanation.

“She is… not like you and I, Jinx. She cannot take care of herself, especially not on our streets.”

It doesn’t really have the intended effect, leaving Jinx looking up at him with obvious confusion. 

He takes it upon himself to clarify before she can even ask. “She is from Piltover.”

Jinx scoffs loudly and pushes herself up from the bean bag chair with a scary amount of force, nearly knocking Silco over in the process. And when he tries to follow her, he has to fight to hide the grunt of pain that lingers behind his lips when his knees click loudly. 

As Jinx turns to storm out of her room, she mutters something under her breath that Silco can’t quite hear (naturally, he always blames it on the attempted drowning), but the way she says it with such vitriol leads him to suspect that it was something derogatory. 

Before she can stomp all the way out of her room, he catches her wrist lightly, allowing her to easily break free if she wants, pulling her to a stop. 

“Jinx, wait.” 

Surprisingly, she doesn’t try to shake him off. But she does grant him a half turn to look back at him, paired with an incredibly unimpressed expression, one that only a teenage girl can truly master. 

“I know this is difficult, and I know that it will take some time to get used to all these changes,” he begins, borderline pleading with her to stop this attack on you. “But I need you to promise me that you won’t hurt her.”

Her features twist in a look of uncertainty, biting her lip at his unusual display of vulnerability. Silco takes the opportunity to take a step closer to her, gently rubbing soothing circles on her outer wrist, like he used to when she was a child. 

“Please, pumpkin,” he says, voice dropping even lower. “You are both incredibly important to me.”

He holds his breath as Jinx falters, looking up at him with wide, wobbly eyes that remind him of that brave, little girl who’d tackled him into a hug outside his exploded factory all that time ago. Then, gone as quickly as it had come, she sighs heavily, gaze dropping down to the floor. 

“Fine,” she acquiesces. “But if she does anything that is even remotely sus, I’ll do much worse than tie her up.”

The threat obviously doesn’t sit well with him but Silco knows that’s probably the best he’s going to get out of her. 

“Thank you,” he tells her sincerely. “May I visit you in your workshop later? I’m eager to see what new inventions that brilliant mind of yours has conjured up.”

He thoroughly expects at least a half-smile at the compliment given how readily she usually eats up his rare compliments, but today she weakly shrugs, prompting Silco to let go of her wrist as she continues to avoid his gaze.

No longer in his grasp, Jinx continues her exit, suddenly appearing preoccupied as she puts the lollipop back into her mouth. Silco fights the automatic urge to tell her not to walk and eat, recognising that she’s no longer a child and that she definitely wouldn’t appreciate the concern. 

“Yeah, sure, whatever,” she tosses the comment over her shoulder, before adding as an afterthought, “Bring Jericho’s.”

And then she’s gone, more than likely disappearing to her lab to work on her latest projects, a hobby that was bordering on hyperfixation with the amount of time she’s spending there lately. 

Silco looks up at the ceiling and sighs for what feels like the hundredth time today, despite it still being so early in the morning. He resolves to fetch some of the aforementioned food, and perhaps some of those new materials she’s been asking for, and to visit her when he’s not busy taking care of you.

He knows that he needs to spend more time with his daughter, especially if he doesn’t want her to slip even further away from him than she currently is. But how can he simultaneously tend to you and ensure that he maintains a relationship with his only child with this unnecessary conflict shadowing everything?

Silco puts his hands on his hips and tips his head back to the ceiling. If only he had more time on his hands. 

-

It takes a few days for Silco to ease up slightly on the overprotection, finally agreeing to let you sit in the bar for a quick drink since he’s busy with work and you’re bored of just sitting around after your morning rehearsal. 

Of course, it’s under the strict conditions that it be during the early afternoon, before the bar is open to anyone not under Silco’s employ. In other words, all people you’ve encountered before. 

But it’s something. 

Making a slow descent down the stairs that lead you onto the bar floor, your mind flashes back to the last time you did this; desperately trying to shake off your bodyguard so you could get some resemblance of normalcy in your new, abnormal life. Back then, you’d had to fight your way through a bustling crowd, shouting over the pounding music to try and get a drink. 

This time the bar is practically, and almost startlingly, empty. To be fair, you do eye a couple of Silco’s goons drinking in the corner of the bar but the very moment they catch sight of you, they down their drinks and scarper before your feet can even touch the ground. 

You roll your eyes and scoff quietly. 

If only you could scare everyone else away with just your presence. 

As you reach the bar you spot the same bartender who ignored you that night you made your mad dash through the crowd. Funnily enough, he’s almost in the exact same position, back partially turned to you so he can put away some glasses below the bar.

You approach the nearest bar stool and place yourself on it, the squeak causing Thieram’s head to snap up, his whole body jerking a little as he momentarily looks absolutely terrified. And even after the shock has worn off, when you expect the fearful look to dissipate, for some reason he still looks just as panicked. 

Hmm. Interesting. 

“Hey,” you smile at him, trying to look as warm and non-threatening as you can. 

“Uh, hi,” he says, stumbling over your name for a second. “What can I, uh- what can I get for you?”

He tries to look nonchalant and overly casual but if you squint hard enough, it kind of looks like he’s about to burst into tears… or maybe it’s just the smudged eyeliner beneath his tearline. It’s hard to tell. 

“Just a soft drink,” you say, not really caring which one. If they’re made in Zaun, they’ll all taste the same anyway. 

“Good choice- no, great choice!” Thieram declares, smiling in such a way that you’re not entirely sure if he’s smiling or actually just grimacing. 

Then, he glances at you sheepishly before dashing beneath the bar to grab a glass. 

You press your lips together and stare at him in perplexity.

Maybe Silco has heavily briefed him about not upsetting you and therefore he’s terrified of saying the wrong thing to you? Or maybe he’s just nervous around women?

Either way, you need him to chill out if you’re going to make him your ally and potentially even your means of escape. 

“It’s Thieram, right?” you ask when he places the glass of lemonade in front of you, and miraculously, he doesn’t spill a drop even though his entire body looks like it’s being continuously electrified at a low voltage. 

You’re not sure you’ve ever seen someone look so stiff and awkward, despite the rugged features that make his Zaunite origins undoubtable. 

“Uh, yeah, th-that’s me!” he replies, pausing for an uncomfortable second before starting to nervously ramble. “Jinx always calls me Chuck even though I’ve told her my name is Thieram, but it must just be her sense of humour because she still… calls it me…”

His words trail off at the scowl that automatically crosses your face upon hearing Jinx’s name, and he looks as if he’s gone through the five stages of grief and gloomily accepted his own execution in just a split second. 

You let yourself be engulfed in bitterness for a few moments before suddenly realising what this means for you.

Thieram might be your key in learning enough information to get yourself out of here. 

What is it that people say? Bartenders hear everything?

Slowly, your demeanour changes, forcing your body to relax under Thieram’s petrified gaze. 

“Do you know Jinx well?” you ask, taking a quick sip of your drink. 

“Um… not… not really,” Thieram says, still noticeably on edge. 

You sigh. 

“Me neither,” you tell him, propping your elbow on the bar so you can lean your cheek against your palm. “I keep trying to connect with her, but she acts like I’m the evil step-mother,” you laugh dejectedly. 

He chuckles nervously like he’s afraid to show the wrong reaction. 

“Yeah, she’s…uh…” he begins, pausing for a second to choose his words before finally settling on, “hard to get to know.”

“Do you know anything about her? I mean, does she have any hobbies? Or friends?”

“Uh… well…” Thieram replies, looking upwards as he scratches his jaw.

For a second, you’re convinced he’s going to make some excuse, but he pleasantly surprises you when he eventually responds, saying, “I think she likes, um, inventing things. You know… building things.”

“What kind of things?” you ask, not daring to question the haunted look that sinks into his features. 

“Like, um… weapons,” he completes with an almost-whisper. 

“Weapons?” you repeat incredulously, although you’re not actually surprised at this point. 

“Yeah, like bombs, and guns, and um… stuff,” Thieram continues. “In fact, Silco once asked her to-”

The way he abruptly cuts himself off as his gaze reaches up and out towards the mezzanine is almost comical, his expression dropping into an exhausted sort of horror.

You turn, following his line of sight, fully expecting to see your partner glaring daggers into him, but there’s no-one there. 

Is this guy okay? Has something happened to him that’s made him this jittery?

“Asked her to what?” you say, swivelling yourself back round to face him. 

“Nothing,” he replies, far too quickly to be anything but a lie. “I don’t really know, nobody tells me much of anything.”

Now that’s a lie if you’ve ever heard one. 

As a bartender, Thieram definitely knows more than he’s letting on. 

Oh, the things you could learn as a fly on the wall at The Last Drop. 

His reluctance to share anything useful is honestly a bit frustrating, especially with the ever-present performance looming in the back of your mind, but at least he’s willing to talk to you. You can work with that. Besides, it’s a far sight better than everyone else in this damned building who all appear to have had their mouths zipped shut by the king of the Undercity. 

You make the decision not to push it, changing the subject to avoid breaking him entirely and accidentally closing him off to you completely. For all you know, Silco could be asking him to report back the details of your conversation. 

Hoping you’ve successfully masked your complicated thoughts, you nod your head in understanding and take another sip of your drink. 

“So, Thieram,” you begin, drawing his attention away from the glass he’s nervously cleaning and back up to you. “What do you do for fun?”

“Oh, uh, you know,” he says, trying his hardest to sound relaxed. “The usual.”

And it’s that tiny, completely nonsensical answer that unlocks a part of you that you haven’t explored in a long, long time. Mischief.

It’s something you used to do when the posh, stuck-up housewives of Piltover were driving you bananas and you almost relish in the feeling of being able to mess with someone again. 

You twirl the straw in your drink, trying your damnedest to hide the smirk that threatens to overtake your lips. 

“So, stealing people’s shoes so you can sniff them when they’re not looking?” 

Thieram’s head snaps up to look at you in pure shock before he sees your teasing grin and appears to understand that you’re joking. 

He still feels the need to protest it anyway. 

“What? No!” he exclaims, placing the glass down on the counter before he drops it. 

“Honestly, I’m not judging, Thieram,” you continue to tease him, offering a nonchalant shrug of your shoulders. “I’m not here to yuck your yum and if that’s what you’re into, then that’s what you’re into.”

You can’t help but let out a giggle of your own when Thieram begins to laugh. Loudly. He takes a few gasping breaths in between laughs and tries to speak, but everytime he does, he devolves into more laughter. 

Eventually, he manages a croaky, “I’m not!” but the strangled way he yells it makes the guard waiting by the door frown at you both in clear disapproval. 

Thieram immediately notices and his lips slam shut, expression dropping as the tops of his cheeks become dusted with light pink. It feels like all the fun has been sucked out of the air as he fumbles for something to do, like he’s going to be killed for enjoying your company too much. You honestly wouldn’t be surprised if Silco had threatened him against getting too close to you. 

The drop in mood affects you more than you expect it to. 

You just want a normal conversation for once. Is that such an unreasonable thing to ask?

Raising yourself slightly off the bar stool, you lean over the bar to gently touch Thieram’s arm. He flinches at first, but tentatively allows you to keep it there. 

“Hey. It’s okay, I’m not going to let Silco hurt you. You’re not doing anything wrong,” you tell him softly. 

Thieram opens his mouth to speak but then promptly shuts it, choosing instead to nod his head. 

“I mean it. I’m not about to let my only friend in this place be offed by the Eye of Zaun.”

The corners of his lips quirk up at the word friend, nodding again, this time more confidently. 

“Okay,” he says with a tight, but grateful smile. “Thanks.”

You nod once and sit back down on your seat.

“No problem.”

And for the rest of your visit to the bar, Thieram asks a few questions about you, his anxiety slowly lessening the longer you both talk. 

You tell him about your life in Piltover (all the nice, fake bits) and how you were a ballerina (leaving out all the gory details) and most importantly, you carefully ensure that everything you say is in line with what Silco already knows about you, just in case Thieram is not the only one listening in. 

It’s nice. Regardless of the fact that you still need to think about what you’re saying and you still need to act, it’s nice. 

It’s been far too long since you had any real friends, and although you know you can never actually be Thieram’s friend, it’s nice to pretend. Even just for a bit. 

-

A mere few hours later, you find yourself back on the sofa in Silco’s office, tucked into his side as he reads over the never-ending pile of documents that seem to continuously overwhelm his desk. 

Book in hand, you’re supposed to be reading while you wait for Silco to finish his work, but as usual, your mind has wandered to thoughts of how you might be able to prevent Jinx from convincing Silco that you’re a threat.

She’s clearly sceptical of you and whilst you’d managed to shake her off this time, there’s no telling how far she’ll go to turn Silco against you. 

You trace the faint, barely-there lines at the bottom of your left hand, where the rope had grazed your skin after being tied to the bed. It doesn’t hurt. But it does remind you of just how dangerous the girl could be.

What if she-

A finger is placed underneath your chin, gently guiding you to look up until you meet Silco’s concerned gaze in front of you. 

“Darling…” he says, voice tinged in uncertainty.

You peer at him more closely recognising hints of guilt laced in his tight-lipped facial expression. 

A strange pinch catches in your chest as you try to picture all this from his perspective. His adopted daughter attempting to hurt and discredit his new girlfriend, who in turn is currently refusing to even kiss him, let alone sleep with him. 

No wonder the guy’s starting to get grey hairs. 

“It’s fine, Sil, honestly,” you tell him, putting on your best impression of somebody who’s trying to be reassuring but obviously isn’t telling the truth. 

Silco opens his mouth to respond but you jump in before he can. 

“You said you’d tell me more about her?” you say, grabbing the hand still holding your chin up and entwining it with yours on your lap. “You know, when she raided my bedroom that one time?”

For a split second, he seems perplexed at your statement before slowly dropping into recognition. 

“I did say that, didn’t I?”

You nod, gently discarding your book on the floor next to the sofa. You even try cuddling up to him a bit more. 

You know, just to get him talking… It usually does the trick. 

And even as you feel the warmth of his body seeping into yours, you force yourself to pay attention on the off-chance that you might learn something either to use against her, or to turn her to your side. 

It takes a little while, but you listen attentively as Silco tells you the story of how he met Jinx. How, growing up, her siblings mistreated her and then eventually abandoned her when an unfortunate accident killed the rest of her family. That this is the reason she’s so insecure and defensive. 

He explains how he adopted her in the aftermath of the explosion, taking her in and raising her as his own, slowly preparing her to eventually take over as the successor of his empire. That he relies on her just as much as she relies on him. He reveals just how protective she is of him and why she feels so threatened by you. 

It’s a lot to take in but it definitely puts some things into context. 

“Thank you for telling me, Silco,” you say when he’s finished, pressing a quick kiss to his jaw without even really thinking about it. 

He looks down at you fondly, reaching over to take your cheek in his free hand, the pad of his thumb carefully tracing a line across your cheekbone. 

“You and Jinx are the two most important people in my life; my beautiful, beautiful girls,” he says, voice dropping to a low, husky timbre. 

Eyes widening and heart slowly beginning to race, your gaze quickly darts over to the coffee table, looking for a way to remove yourself from the situation before he can notice that you’re blushing. 

Your eyes land on his nearly empty drink and you fold, practically throwing your cards down at this point. 

“Let me get you a new drink, dear,” you say, desperately trying to hide the slight shake in your voice as you extract yourself from his hold. 

And despite you ignoring his compliment, he practically beams at you. In his own Silco way, of course. 

You hurry over to the drinks cart, taking the time to calm yourself down a bit, (why are you so hot all of a sudden?) and pressing reset on yourself as you pour Silco’s usual drink into one of his favourite glasses. 

A quick glance over and you can just tell by the way that Silco is looking at you that he wants to devour you.

Fuck. 

“You’re out of ice-cubes,” you announce, prolonging the moment so you won’t have to go back over to him just yet.

But your plan is thwarted the moment that Silco responds, “They’re kept in the stockroom of the bar. I’ll send for some more when we order dinner.”

So, with no excuse to continue lingering by the drinks cart, you reluctantly make your way back over to the couch, handing Silco his drink and pointedly ignoring the way his fingers purposefully drag across yours. 

He doesn’t even bother taking a sip, placing the glass straight down onto the coffee table, where your book and his work are now conveniently resting out of the way. 

You take a seat on the couch again, this time a little bit further away from him, but Silco is apparently having none of it, pulling you by the waist until you’re pretty much sitting on his lap. 

He leans forward, lips touching the shell of your ear as his voice drops an octave. 

“My sweet, perfect, gorgeous girl.” 

Your breath catches in your throat when his fingertips begin to gently run up and down your thigh, slowly (almost as if he’s asking permission) inching further and further inwards each time, enough to send heat flooding down your body. 

You can’t bring yourself to stop him.

You don’t want to stop him.  

Silco’s teeth graze your ear lobe for just a scant second, the rough of his voice sending shivers through your blood. You grab onto his waistcoat for support. 

“I cannot wait to see you… perform for me again,” he rumbles, breath hot on your neck. “Just think, in only two weeks time I will be able to watch you dance in front of my subordinates, all the while knowing that you, my little ballerina, are mine and only mine.”

And those two little words roughly snap you out of the trance, turning to stare up at him in shock. 

“Two weeks?”

Silco pulls back a little, glancing down at you. There’s still a hint of lust in his voice, but it’s diluted by your reaction.

“Did I forget to mention that a date has been set?” he asks with genuine concern, now soothingly caressing your arm instead of your inner thigh, as if he senses your panic. 

“Yeah, I think you did,” you remark blandly, though not completely devoid of sarcasm. “I… I just didn’t think it would be so soon…”

“Is your choreography not completed? I was under the impression that you were simply rehearsing a finished routine,” Silco counters, seemingly a little confused by your distress. 

Perhaps you should lie but right this second, you’re far too busy panicking and desperately trying to come up with a plan to even think about what you’re saying to him.

“No… it’s… it’s done…” you trail off, urgently needing to put some space between you and his distracting self. 

“And with your costume finished, I see no reason to delay any further,” he continues, pausing for a moment to assess your distraught body language before his timbre drops into one of comfort. “There’s no need to be anxious, my lovely, I will be there the whole time.”

He doesn’t give you even a second to process this and you nearly snap, feeling an urge to just grab his face and shove it away from you.

You need to think and he won’t fucking shut up. 

The performance is in two weeks and you have no plan, no allies, no weapons, and absolutely nothing to help you escape this stupid prison. 

Fuck. You need to think of something now. 

Could you get in contact with one of the chem-barons before then? Would you have time?

What about Otto? Is he going to be there?

Could you lurk outside Silco’s office until he’s here for another meeting?

But what if he doesn’t show up before then? What if Silco sends him away again?

Or could you somehow get to Otto?

What if you convince Silco to-

“Will you take me to one of your meetings?” you blurt out suddenly, having the sense to tack on a reason before he even has the chance to ask. “I’ve never been to one before, I just want to know what I’m in for.”

Silco looks utterly bewildered. He considers your request for a grand total of three seconds, but does have the decency to respond with at least some level of kindness. 

“No, darling.”

“Why not?” you retort, your tone bordering the line of demanding.

“I made a promise to myself to keep you safe, sweetheart,” he says, frowning at your attitude. “Besides, none of the insolent rats I have the misfortune of working with are aware of your existence, so to abruptly take you along to a business meeting for no given reason would put you in an immeasurable amount of danger.” 

You just can’t help yourself from pushing back against him. 

“Otto knows I exist. Why don’t you let me sit in on a meeting with him?”

The look in his mismatched eyes immediately darkens as his timbre becomes edged with a glint of sharp silver. 

“He does not know who you are to me, and he will not.”

“But he’s going to when I dance at this meeting with the rest of the chem-barons, isn’t he?”  You’re a runaway train now, unable to stop yourself even if you wanted to. “They’re all going to know who I am.”

Silco stares at you hard, his expression difficult to read. 

“You think I would reveal our relationship to a group of power-hungry mongrels, who are not only out for my blood and my throne, but would practically leap at the opportunity to harm the ones I love?”

Is he fucking serious? 

You’re a respected professional, not some foolish amateur. You’ve worked hard to make a name for yourself in your field, just like he has. 

“So, what? You’re just going to pretend I’m some random ballerina?” you scoff. “You’re not even going to introduce me?”

He has the gall to look at you with incredulity and it sends your heart racing into an anger-fuelled sprint. 

“After all the work I’ve put in to make sure your move to Zaun is not tracked, you really think I would be so careless as to announce not only your name, but the nature of our intimate relationship?”

You want to scream. 

Intimate fucking relationship? He kidnapped you and forced you to act like his girlfriend, how is that an intimate relationship? 

He doesn’t respect you enough to let you go anywhere by yourself and now he’s just revealed that he thinks so little of you, he doesn’t even recognise the career you’ve built for yourself. 

The sting of it hurts more than you expect it to, so you roughly push yourself away from him, standing up from the couch to look down at his enraged face. 

“So, that’s it, huh?” you ask sardonically. “I’m just a fucking toy for you to wheel out and show off to all your pathetic little friends so you can just put me back on the shelf when you’re done with me?”

For a split second, he opens his mouth with indignation, but his expression soon melts into regret when your explanation finally sinks in. 

You couldn’t care less. You don’t want to be anywhere near the man right now. 

Silco says your name pleadingly, softness flooding his tone as he tries to take your hand in his but you rip it from his embrace, needing to get out of the room. 

“I’ll get you some more ice, sir,” you spit out, marching towards the office door as you mutter under your breath, definitely still loud enough for him to hear, “Since that’s all I’m fucking good for, apparently.” 

“Darling, wait-”

Silco calls after you but you ignore him, slamming the door behind you with a loud bang. 

You stomp all the way through the corridors and down the stairs to the bar, blood rushing in your ears as the features of the club blur around you, far too angry to focus on anything. Your attention briefly flits across some of Silco’s goons dotted around the club, but you barely pay them any mind. 

Reaching the empty bar, you spot the door that leads to the backroom hanging open slightly, so you presume that Thieram has just stepped away for a second and will be back in a moment. 

Hands clench onto the lip of the bar to stop yourself from throwing a bar stool across the club as you replay the argument in your head, anger flowing afresh. 

Why did you even come down here? It’s not like you’re going to deliver the ice to Silco once Thieram is finished in the back. 

You loosen your grip from the bar, trying to force yourself to relax, but the very moment you do, a sudden sense of déjà vu floods through your body when a hand lands roughly on your shoulder.

Except this time, it’s definitely not Sevika because before you can even think about turning, the hand swiftly wraps around your sternum, violently pulling you back against a large, flat chest. 

Oh, shit. 

You stumble backwards as your captor’s other hand snakes across your waist, holding you firmly to him, close enough that you can smell the putrid scent of cheap alcohol on his breath.

He begins to yell incoherently, something about Shimmer and the Eye of Zaun, tugging you backwards with each step until you’re in the centre of the room. 

Nah, fuck this. 

You brace yourself to break out of his hold, a valuable skill learnt as a young teen on the streets of Zaun, about to take your opportunity as he makes the mistake of removing his hand briefly from your waist…

Only for you to freeze.

He’s pressing a broken bottle against your throat. 

Your heart rate skyrockets as you try to keep yourself as calm and still as possible; there’s not much you can do from this position without accidentally getting yourself hurt. 

Before you can come up with another way out of this mess, Sevika’s voice abruptly cuts in from somewhere off to your side, causing the man to turn sharply towards her, superficially nicking you in the neck with the bottle as he pulls you with him.

You cry out at the slight sting, desperately trying to keep him from moving anymore when, seemingly out of nowhere, a flash of silver slices through the air. 

The man screams, letting you go and dropping the bottle to the floor with a smash, allowing you to stumble away as Sevika rushes towards him. But in your panic to get away, you trip and fall backwards, landing on the club floor with a dull thud. 

It’s completely on instinct for you to scramble away as Sevika easily tackles the man to the ground, your heart beating in your ears when someone grabs you from behind, roughly scooping their arms under yours.

You shriek, thrashing against their hold until a smooth voice fills your senses. 

“It’s me, sweetheart, it’s just me.”

Silco gently pulls you backwards until he can lift you to sit on the bottom step of the stairs, moving in front of you to block the view of the one-sided fight happening across the room. His hand rubs little circles on your lower back, gently guiding you to focus on him instead.

And by the time your breathing has returned to normal, Sevika has knocked the man unconscious in a matter of seconds, drawing Silco’s attention over to him.

He stands up and you watch in muted detachment as he begins to bark out orders to the goons that have now jumped to attention. 

Truthfully, his words seem to cut in and out, unable to bring yourself to listen to all the rapidfire orders.

“-will take him downstairs and wait until I arrive,” you vaguely hear Silco command before sharply turning on his heel to face the bar. “Thieram!”

The poor bartender finally emerges from the backroom, a dishcloth clutched to his abdomen. 

“Upstairs with me,” Silco orders with unquestionable authority.

Then, he kneels back down in front of you, voice instantly dropping both in volume and intensity, so only you can hear his gentle question. 

“Are you hurt, darling?”

“No, I’m okay,” you tell him quietly. 

“Can you walk?”

“Yeah, I can walk.” 

You’re just repeating him really, still a little bit in shock over the rollercoaster of events that you’ve just experienced. 

He carefully helps you stand and keeps a hold of your elbow as you both ascend the stairs, Thieram in tow. 

“That’s it, sweetheart, you’re doing brilliantly,” he whispers assurances the entire way.

The shock wears off surprisingly quickly, although, it shouldn’t be a surprise at all given your childhood years in Zaun. It’s just been a while since you’ve been grabbed and threatened like that. 

Maybe you’ve gone soft after your extended time living in Piltover, you internally scoff. 

By the time you reach Silco’s office, you’re pretty much back to normal.

But, of course, Silco doesn’t need to know that. By now, the one thing you’ve learnt is that it’ll be far easier to take advantage of his emotions if he thinks you’re relying on him. 

He leads you to sit back down on the couch that you’d stormed away from not minutes before, although it feels like a lifetime ago since you’d argued with him and slammed the door in his face. 

Silco kneels in front of you again, holding your cheeks to ensure your attention is solely on him. 

“Are you sure you’re okay, my sweet?”

You nod. 

“Will you be alright if I go downstairs for a moment?” he asks, nodding behind him to the nervous bartender waiting on the opposite side of the office. “Thieram will stay here with you and there are multiple guards outside the office.”

“Yeah, I’ll be fine,” you reaffirm, hoping you sound like you’re putting on a brave face for him. 

Silco scans your countenance for a second longer before suddenly darting to place a kiss on your head.

He stands, striding out of the room with a pointed glare to Thieram, who honestly looks like he’s seen a ghost. Either that, or he’s seeing visions of his own ghost when Silco kills him for not saving you.

“Hey,” you jump up and pace over to him, feeling slightly awkward as you try to comfort him. “Hey… it’s alright, Thieram, I’m okay.”

He looks at you, unconvinced. 

“Y-yeah?”

You grab his arm and lead him to the sofa, a close mimicry of the way Silco had just done with you, sitting him in the exact same place you’ve just left. 

“Here, have some water,” you tell him, grabbing a glass from the drinks cart. 

Thieram takes the glass when you hand it to him, but he still has the look of someone who’s just convinced themselves that they’ve completely and irreversibly fucked up their entire life. 

“Sorry we’re out of ice,” you say with a slightly amused, slightly apologetic smile. 

“Th-that’s alright…I don’t like ice anyway,” he replies, clearly still haunted by the uncertainty of his own future.

You sit down next to him and awkwardly put a hand on his shoulder. 

The simple touch seems to jolt him into remembering that not only does he work for the most infamous crime lord in the Undercity, but that same crime lord gave him a very specific job to do mere minutes ago. 

Thieram puts the glass of water down and turns to stare at you in concern. 

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

You drop your hand to wrap your arms around your middle, curling in on yourself as you avoid his gaze. You’re meant to be a sheltered ballerina from Piltover, not an ex-revolutionary who grew up in the violence of Zaun. 

You’re meant to be at least a little bit traumatised after being held hostage. 

“Yeah, I think so,” you tell him shakily. “I mean, it all just happened so quickly, I didn’t know what to do.”

Thieram shuffles closer to you until you’re practically side by side. 

“Hey, it’s- it’s okay. You’re safe now,” he says.

And then he wraps an arm around your shoulders. 

You stiffen, dread flowing through you at the unexpected touch. 

Shit, you really hope Thieram doesn’t see you in that way…

You dare to glance up at him, finding him smiling at you nervously. He opens his mouth, taking a short intake of breath as if he’s about to speak when the door to the office swings open. 

Silco traipses into the room, stopping short at the view of Thieram with his arm around you, mismatched eyes narrowing at the sight. 

Your heart feels like it’s falling through your chest (why do you feel so guilty?) as Thieram quickly scrambles away from you.

There’s a part of you that’s worried Silco is going to absolutely lose it, but you’re relieved when his tone adopts that imposing, authoritative quality instead. 

“You’re dismissed,” he grunts, glaring at Thieram with a sharpness that is almost cutting. “The bar is closed for the night, you may return home.”

The poor guy practically leaps up from the couch, a stoic, hardened expression on his face.

“Yes, sir.”

Thieram exits the room as quickly as he can without outright running, eyes glued to the floor and no doubt panicking that he’s either getting fired or killed in his sleep. You stand, itching to tell him thank you for trying to comfort you, but you’re pretty sure that Silco will read it wrong, so you keep your mouth shut.

You’ll have to do some clean-up work at a later date. Showing Thieram your appreciation whilst not under Silco’s watchful eyes, and convincing your partner that the bartender does not deserve to be harmed for simply being nice to you. 

Once he’s gone, Silco immediately paces over to you, pulling you into a tight hug against his hard chest. You’re startled when he quickly jolts back, methodically checking you over as if he’s scanning you for injuries.

It doesn’t take him long to notice the little scratch on your neck and you swear you can see his eyes darken, hands squeezing your biceps just a bit too harshly in his anger.

You yelp, attempting to squirm out of his grip when he releases his hold and strokes your arms soothingly, as if in apology. 

“Sorry, my lovely,” he murmurs.

And then, he’s picking you up without any warning, his strength completely stunning you as he carries you over to his desk and places you on it like you’re lighter than a feather. 

He leaves you for a brief few moments to fetch the first aid kit from a drawer in his desk, but before you know it, he’s back in front of you, standing between your legs and carefully cleaning up the scratch. 

You can barely keep up with him as he thoroughly cleans and bandages the tiny wound, finishing by pressing a gentle kiss to the bandage that your traitorous body completely misinterprets. 

Luckily, your brain is fixated on the way that Silco is not really looking at you, gazing off into the distance beyond your shoulder. He’s probably imagining the thousand ways that the whole situation down in the bar could have gone wrong and you need to stop it before he does something drastic like decide you can never leave his office again. 

“Sil, I’m fine,” you say, cupping his cheeks to bring his gaze back to you. “It’s just a scratch.”

“It could have been worse. It could have-”

“But it wasn’t…” you cut him off, somehow only just realising that it must have been him that threw the knife at your attacker. You stare at him in confusion, your brows furrowing. “...Because of you.”

He says your name, a little unsteadily, and begins to trace slow circles up and down your waist. 

“I would do anything to ensure your safety,” Silco whispers, staring at you like you’re the ninth wonder.

You think you catch his meaning and it fills you with a weird mix of feelings. Dread, and awe, and utter drowning. 

He would kill for you. 

This man would hurt anyone and anything to make sure you were okay.

How many people could truly say they have that? 

Silco wraps his arms around you once more, holding you to him like he’s never going to see you again and you can just feel the way he slowly sinks into your warmth, clearly exhausted both physically and emotionally. 

You let him rest there for a brief moment before managing to lead him over to the couch where he immediately re-attaches himself to you, sweeping his hands up and down your back and through your hair over and over again, all the while mumbling into your hair. 

You can’t quite tell what he’s saying, but you think he’s reassuring both you and him. Truthfully, you don’t have the energy to listen, hugging him back until your eyelids begin to droop… letting your body succumb to the sweet lull of sleep…

When you wake up, you find that you’ve both shifted positions in your sleep, and you’re now lying pretty much on top of him, his back against the armrest with your head against his chest. You’re lying in between his legs with his arms still around you, both stretched out along the length of the couch. 

Did Silco move you? Or did you both just naturally drift into this position? 

Groggily, you stare up at him, feeling his chest move up and down underneath you with each slow intake and exhale of breath. 

He’s still asleep.

You take the rare opportunity to just stare at him unabashedly, without having to control your expression or think about how you can manipulate him. In fact, you don’t think you’ve ever seen him asleep before; he’s always woken up before you. 

Janna, he looks so… peaceful. 

All those worry lines have faded and his mouth is slightly agape, snoring softly under the cool, green glow. 

Without thinking, you carefully reach up to smooth back the loose strands of hair that have fallen down onto his forehead, slowly and tenderly sweeping them back with the rest of the dark strands, never once taking your eyes off the swirling iris of his corrupted eye.

You push up slightly to stretch your aching joints, hands splayed on the sofa below you with your arms straightening until your elbows pop. 

Gingerly, you crane your neck from side to side before trailing your eyes down Silco’s body, brushing over the most obvious places until your gaze lands on something that makes you pause.

The knife that Silco keeps in one of his boots is poking out, the silver glimmering in the neon light that pours through the stained-glass window. 

Oh. 

Quietly staring at it, you tilt your head to one side. 

Then, your eyes slowly climb all the way back up to Silco’s unconscious face. 

You hover above him, studying his face with a calm intensity. 

…Do you really need to kill him? 

Sure, he’s no saint. But he’s also not entirely evil, is he?

He saved your life tonight. 

And he’s gone out of his way to protect and care for you in a way that no-one in your life ever has before…

You can still escape. You can still get your life in Piltover back.

But maybe you don’t have to kill him in order to get there. 

You know, if only to thank him for saving your life when he could have easily let it be thrown away. 

There’s got to be some honour among thieves, right? 

Beneath you, Silco stirs a little and you freeze, holding your breath in anticipation of him waking up. But it doesn’t happen, so instead you carefully place your head back against his warm chest, subconsciously snuggling up to him when his arms tighten around you in his sleep.

Perhaps if it was any other day, you might force yourself to stay awake and think of a plan to get out of your eccentric prison.

But right now, wrapped up in Silco’s secure embrace, you choose to go back to sleep.

After everything you’ve been through, you deserve that much.

Don’t you? 

PART 10

a/n: Is Thieram ooc in this chapter? Probably. Did I have entirely too much fun making him a complete nervous wreck regardless? Appolutely &lt;3

-

Taglist: @pinkrose1422 @ursawastricked @astralkiss @breadsticks2004  

[viktorshands]

Vampire AU - Part I

Silco x Fem!Reader 

Warnings: Language (seriously, that’s it... for now... o.o)

WC: 1370

Chapter I:  An Unexpected Setback

You were an Arts professor at Piltover Academy, teaching students the pleasures of history, music, and art. You loved your job, for as long as you could remember you were always told that you would make an amazing teacher. Unsurprisingly, you did. Coincidentally, so did your best friend, Sky. The two of you were as thick as thieves as two young women could be. You both enjoyed the nightlife of Piltover City, sometimes a little too much, but could always count on each other for everything. 

You stroll up the front steps at Piltover Academy at a leisurely pace, humming to yourself. Only faculty was permitted in the classrooms at this time, with only a couple of days before the fall semester classes started. You nod politely at the other professors as you walk down the spacious hallway until you finally reach your office. You reach for your key to open the door, but before you can open it, you hear someone clear their throat behind you.

You turn, only to see Administrator Jayce Talis standing there, his hands in his pockets and a solemn look on his normally cheery face. 

“Hi, Y/N,” he stared at the floor as if there were something interesting beneath your feet, “do you have a few minutes? I need to speak to you, privately.”

You felt uneasy, a bad feeling twisting in the pit of your stomach, but still you nodded at him and opened the door, letting him into your office ahead of you.

-

“Fired? How? What?” Sky’s voice was at a higher pitch than the rooftops as you sat on the olive green couch in your shared apartment. “I literally just saw him today as I went in to set up my classroom. No wonder he couldn’t look me in the eye.” Her angry growl could be heard from the kitchen across the room, “Men are such cowards! Ugh! Okay, tell me exactly what he said just once more.”

“He said that the Academy was making cuts, unfortunately that included my program. They are centering their priorities in science; hence, the arts are not an ‘ideal expenditure’ according to the board of directors.” You exhaled, defeated, putting your face in your hands. “Oh Sky, what the hell am I going to do?”

Her soft footfalls approached, she put one hand on your shoulder and reached to hand you a warm mug of mint tea. “Y/N, I’m so sorry.” She sat down next to you, “Hey, we can search for jobs together if you want?” 

The two of you scrolled online for what felt like hours, the morning sun dipping late into the afternoon now. It seemed like all of the jobs out there were either for someone more qualified than yourself or for much less pay than you would be able to accept. Feeling put-out, Sky got on her computer to order take-out for the both of you - Thai food could always brighten your day.

You came across an ad on a small website for a private tutor. The pay immediately caught your eye.

𝗣𝗿𝗶𝘃𝗮𝘁𝗲 𝗧𝘂𝘁𝗼𝗿 𝗡𝗲𝗲𝗱𝗲𝗱. $𝟳𝟱/𝗵𝗼𝘂𝗿 𝗣𝗹𝗲𝗮𝘀𝗲 𝗮𝗽𝗽𝗹𝘆 𝘄𝗶𝘁𝗵 𝘆𝗼𝘂𝗿 𝗰𝗼𝗻𝘁𝗮𝗰𝘁 𝗶𝗻𝗳𝗼𝗿𝗺𝗮𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝗲𝗺𝗽𝗹𝗼𝘆𝗺𝗲𝗻𝘁 𝗵𝗶𝘀𝘁𝗼𝗿𝘆 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝘄𝗲 𝘄𝗶𝗹𝗹 𝗴𝗶𝘃𝗲 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗮 𝗰𝗮𝗹𝗹.

Hm, could be interesting, but why are there like, no details? Still, I could do worse. You uploaded your resume, your email address, phone number, and hit “Apply”. 

The evening passes quickly. You turn off the TV, uninterested in finishing the episode of Love Island without Sky, who has long since passed out on the couch beside you. You get up and yawn, stretching like a cat before seeing your phone screen light up. As you grab it, you see that an unknown number is calling. At ten o’clock? Scam alert!

You walk to your bedroom and answer anyway, ready to prank the scammer on the other line, “Hello?” You do your best Kermit the Frog impression.

“Miss L/N? This is a call in response to your job application to be a private tutor?” A strong, female voice spoke on the other end of the call.

Dread and embarrassment washed over you like a downpour. Are you fucking kidding me? You chastised yourself.

“Hello?” The woman spoke again.

“Hi!” Now you sounded too overzealous. Tone it down. “Hello, yes, this is Y/N. I apologize, I needed to clear my throat.”

“No trouble at all. I will connect you with the master.” Her voice was deadpan. You heard her quietly say, “fucking hell.” The line went silent for a moment, and your pulse quickened. The what?

“Ah, Miss L/N.” The male voice on the other end purred, sending a shiver up your spine.

“Um, Y/N is just fine, thank you.” You were almost tripping over your words and started to pace your room. “I - I’m sorry, um, what is your name? I am afraid that I don’t know who you, or your school or company is at all. There was barely any information on the application.” You slapped a hand over your mouth and internally screamed at yourself. For the love of crackers and cheese stop talking now before you say anything else offensive.

“Y/N.” He repeated your name, and you froze in place. That voice. “You may call me Silco.” He sounded like honey and whiskey, sweet on the tongue and a burn in your throat to wash it down. He continued, “Let me ask since you brought up the application: What made you interested in this position?”

The money, obviously. “I thought it would be a unique opportunity for myself in my career, and a perfect fit for myself. I have been teaching at the Piltover Academy of Arts and Sciences, well, now just Sciences actually.” Your voice trailed off. “Sorry, I’ve been teaching for three years since I graduated at the top of my class. I have experience with art, history, and music, all of which I think are vital for a student to learn. How old is the student that is requiring the lessons? I only ask because it will be easier to craft lessons depending on their grade level.”

“She is eighteen.” He paused, “I agree that the arts are an essential part of one’s education. Tell me, Y/N, have you ever been to Zaun?”

“Zaun?” You didn’t mean for your confusion to come across so loudly so you covered your tracks, “I have never been but I know that it is a small town, a population under 500 and well-known for their folklore, as well as the birthplace of General Vander who was said to have raised a legion of wolves to fight in the Great War over six hundred years ago.”

“Ah, I see.” He sounded pleased, or strained, if that was possible to detect, “You’re familiar with our quaint town? That is where we are located. My manor is just outside of the town.”

“Oh,” You furrowed your brow, “I am partially familiar, but I am afraid that it would be quite a far drive for me to come all the way out there every day. You see, I live in Piltover City.”

A pause on the other end. You held your breath in anticipation for his response and started mentally backtracking through your other job options. 

“I see, well, we expected that. We are prepared to have you stay on the grounds. Your meals and everything else will be provided for in addition to your flat-rate compensation.”

You couldn’t hide the excitement from your voice and you said happily, “That would be amazing.”

“You’ll hear from us soon, thank you for your time, Y/N,” He said softly, “It has been a pleasure to speak with you.”

“The pleasure was mine, thank you for your consideration, Silco.” It felt strange to say his name aloud, too informal. Before you could say anything else, the line clicked in your ear, startling you back to reality.

You started your nightly routine, though trying to get your heartrate back to resting was more difficult than taming a beast. Still, you fell asleep with your imagination running wild to piece together a picture of the man that is connected to such a sensual voice.

-

Part II