Silco X Reader - Tumblr Posts

☆Arcane Masterlist☆

Vi

Silence/Vi

Caitlyn

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Sevika

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Silco

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Viktor

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Jinx

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Ekko

ᴀᴍᴏʀ ꜱᴜᴇÑᴏ/ ᴇᴋᴋᴏ

Scar

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Vander

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Grayson

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Cassandra kiramman

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Ambessa Medarda

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ʚ♡ɞ Headcanons ʚ♡ɞ

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ʚ♡ɞ Series ʚ♡ɞ

ᴀᴍᴏʀ ꜱᴜᴇÑᴏ/ ᴇᴋᴋᴏ

BLACKLIST

Jayce

Marcus

(I'm srry but yall...I just can't stand them 💀)

© 2023 lunerenzo, please don’t plagiarize work.

Yk now that I think about it...

I haven't seen anyone do a swap au where Sevika and Silco witch roles 👁️👁️

And all I'm saying is

Sevika with the eye scar

And Silco wit a mech arm

Seems... Like a cool freaking idea

(as a bi sexual in pride month, I'm going to start manifesting)

FANFIC WRITER HEAR A SISTA OUT RQ :D

so we got a nice like group of uh... Silco, Sevika, and Renata

Prompt is?

Reader (or whoever) is working for Silco/Renata and meets the other (any of the three) at a meeting

And then boom! Y'all can take it from there cuz I can already guess what half of y'all are thinking at this point 💀

That's me right now ⬆️⬆️

No but seriously this was so beautiful and nice and calm and just so, so true. The part with the intrusive thoughts??? Oh I felt that.

Thank you so so much for this, you have no idea how much this means to me <333

Hello! Could I maybe get some Silco x reader hurt/comfort fic? Maybe the reader is struggling mentally and Silco tries to help them? It doesn't need to be anything too heavy, I've kust been dealing with some self destructive urges and depressive thoughts lately and I'd appreciate the comfort <3 You absolutely don't have to write this if it makes you feel uncomfortable though, just let me know if you decide to not write it, so I don't expect anything. Thank you so much!

Sorry this took so long. I hope you're doing alright and this might help a little. We've all been there. This is heavily based on my own experiences so I hope that's okay <3

Warnings: Depressive thoughts

You’re numb again.

It’s cold. Dark.

You ever get the feeling the world is too much? Like life is passing you by too fast and you don’t know where it’s going. Or where you’re gonna end up? What’s going to happen next?

Will today be like yesterday?

What about tomorrow?

You feel lost.

Left behind.

It’s all too much.

So you stay in bed, waiting. Doing absolutely nothing because anything feels like it’s too much. Until…

The hand that touches your shoulder is warm. It moves down your side to then rub circles around the small of your back. Breathing comes easier now.

“Silco,” his name is just a quiet whisper on your lips and yet, he still hears you.

“I’m here, my love,” he says.

His hand strokes down your arm, fingers tangle themselves between your own. He squeezes gently.

You feel grounded. Secure. Safe.

He scoots in under the covers behind you. You feel his chest press against your back, and his nose pokes your neck as he shuffles closer.

“Those thoughts haunting you again, my dear?” he asks. He knows you may not have the strength to answer.

But you manage a small nod. And that’s plenty enough for him to understand.

He presses a kiss behind your ear, and then another to your neck. “I’ve got you. I’m here.”

A smile flickers on your face for just a moment.

You take a deep breath; finding some small urge of strength you roll over to face him.

Not a word uttered between you. You stare into each other's eyes, longingly. You can just make out the blue in the dim light of the room, swirls of sky and ocean turquoise merging together. The red flickering brightly, almost looking like a small flame, guiding you towards it.

You reach your free hand up, running it back through his hair and then down to the nape of his neck. His blue eye closes slowly and he hums quietly in response. You watched intently as the pupil of the red dilates, shrinking down the ring of fire that surrounds it.

“You have beautiful eyes, Silco.” Your voice was weak.

A soft chuckle left him as he opened his blue eye to meet your gaze.

“As do you, my dear.” He leans close to press a chaste kiss to your lips.

The tips of your fingers brush lightly at the back of his neck, just below his hairline.

You open your mouth to speak, but the words are stuck in your throat. You hate this. It shouldn’t be like this, he does so much for you but what-

“Focus on me. I’m right here. You’re stronger than you think.” He knew you so well. Always knew how to pull you away from those thoughts.

“I’m sorry. I’m really sorry. I’m so useless. I don’t pull my weight around here-”

“Hush now. That’s nonsense.” He squeezes your hand again. The other moves up to cup your cheek and his thumb traces over your lips lightly. “You do plenty for me with just your presence, my love. I don’t need anything else from you. Just having you here is enough.”

He kisses you again, but deeper, more passionately than before, as if to emphasise the meaning of his words. Tender and slow. As though the Eye of Zaun — a man who was always busy — had all the time in the world. He was sure to always make time for you.

“I love you,” he says, tightening his grip on your hand. “You’re mine. Always mine. No matter what.”

You smile — a genuine smile; one that reaches your eyes and makes the corner of your eyes crease. It stays. “I love you too.”

“Good.” He brushes the back of his hand down along your cheek. “Because I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Thank you so much for commenting on my post, first and foremost! ❤️

One of the ideas I have, that I hope you're up for writing, is along these lines...

Reader w/ a temper, but it only shows when she's in a fight, or if someone insults anybody she's fond of. She has had horrid prior relationships and fears ever trying again, so she tends to just stick to being alone outside of working as an assistant for Silco.

While she's intoxicated, she overhears a patron (rather boldly) badmouthing Silco in his very establishment, and decides to get into a brawl with the patron. That's when she realizes that she's developed some strong feelings for her boss, and ultimately, she ends up having to explain herself directly to Silco, including why the fight started in the first place.

If possible, a resolution/response with Silco after her drunk admission to feelings would be so awesome. ;-; I'm always down for angst, too.

I'd love to see it written, but again, only if you're up for it! Thanks again! ❤️

Thank you for your patience with this, Love! Thank you for letting me breath a little life into your OC/Reader-insert.

I hope you like it <3

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Recover

Summary: See Ask

Warnings: None/SFW, canon typical violence, drunken confessions, a lil' bit of vomit

WC: 5.6K

Notes: Silco x Reader . . . ? Maybe??

Free drinks were one of the perks of your job.

It made the sting of working as Silco’s assistant mellow just a tad.

You knew most would assume that the sting came from the kingpin’s turbulent temper, his meticulous micro-managing, or his insatiable appetite for power. And while each of those attributes could be challenging at times, none of them actually got under your skin. On the contrary, they were traits you admired: his passion, his vision, his drive.

Admired . . . yes, that was the word. You would entertain nothing else.

There was no point to anything else.

A sardonic huff burst through your lips, sending the bourbon beneath them rippling in the glass. Knocking back the last of your drink, you set the tumbler on the bar top with a hefty, slightly careless thunk. Thieram looked up from the glass he was drying, brow furrowing.

“Another, please, Thieram.” You tapped the bar for good measure.

Thieram gave the glass in his hand a couple more squeaky wipes before setting it down and turning to the wall of liquor behind him. As he fetched the expensive bottle from the top shelf (if all your drinks were free, why not lean in?) your eyes slid around The Last Drop. While it was late, it wasn’t quite late enough for the bar to be in its infamous, full, raucous swing. Older, tired Trenchers (people left over from Vander’s days) sat heavily at the bar around you; small huddles of weary faces sat shoulder-to-shoulder at tables; a small group played a relatively quiet game of billiards over at the large, felted table.

As Thieram returned and poured another two fingers-worth into your glass, your eyes spied Sevika at the far end of the room. A murky plume of smoke rising above her and the two men she was currently swindling in cards. Her full lips hooked in an insufferable grin around her cigarillo as her playthings upped their antes. The next thing your eyes meandered to were the stairs that led to The Drop’s upper levels. To the club’s balcony. And then the private quarters. To Silco’s office. Where you had left him after he thanked and dismissed you for the day.

A perfunctory thanks mumbled from your mouth as you lifted your freshened drink to your lips. The liquor burned delicious and warm down your gullet, grateful for the way it soothed your tired body, relaxed your tangled mind, and numbed your aching heart.

Placing the drink down, your hand swiveled the bottom of the glass against the lacquered bar top, watching as the liquor within spin in a small whirlpool. You didn’t want them to, but your eyes lifted to the neon clock above Thieram’s head. In about an hour’s time, you knew, the club would fill with younger, louder Zaunites and the more rambunctious of Silco’s goons. The lights would pulse. The music would rattle the bar’s foundation. Cheap liquor would flow. Shimmer would be smoked. Gambling. Soliciting. Probably at least one fight.

And he would be there.

You hated that you knew that. Hated that you still knew your ex’s schedule. Hated that he didn’t have the decency to frequent a different club, knowing that this was the one you worked in. He had been the one to break up with you, so his insistence on showing his stupid face was aggravating and spiteful.

You’d be loathe to admit it, but it hurt you.

And it hurt that he knew that, but he still came to The Last Drop like clockwork. Like the time you spent together was some sort of meaningless joke.

Asshole.

At least he hadn’t been as bad as . . .

You stopped that thought in its tracks and knocked the rest of your drink back. A mistake, you quickly realized, as your esophagus rebelled against the onslaught of liquid fire trying to surge its way to your stomach. Catching the cough behind your teeth, some of the beverage rose back up into your mouth where it found refuge in the rounded bubbles of your cheeks.

Luckily, no one but Thieram seemed to notice.

“Smooth.”

Wrestling down the wayward booze, you sneered at him. “Swallowed wrong.”

“Uh-huh,” he grunted. “That stuff isn’t meant to be shot. Didn’t the boss explain that when he first let you taste it?”

Another unwelcome, unfounded zing scratched across your heart.

You bit the inside of your cheek and glared at the bartender. After a beat, you pushed the empty tumbler across the bar toward him and firmly tapped the space next to it. Thieram’s deep set eyes fell to the glass, unimpressed.

“Don’t waste it this time,” he warned, snatching the heavy ornate glass bottle back off the shelf. He poured a finger’s worth and turned to put the bottle back.

“Hey!” you cried. Thieram stopped and looked back at the incredulous expression on your face. Gesturing to the too-empty glass, you said, “What gives?”

His fingers tightened almost protectively around the neck of the bottle.

“I don’t want you wasting it,” he answered. “I don’t need Silco asking me why the books aren’t adding up at the end of the month.”

Your eyes rolled so far back that you thought you might’ve glimpsed your brain.

“Free drinks are part of my compensation, Chuck.” A thrilling, warm tingle shivered under your skin as you watched him flinch at the nickname. “Silco allows me that bourbon. Pour me that bourbon.”

Thieram hesitated a moment more before he stepped back up to the bar and tipped an additional splash into your tumbler. Holding his gaze, you brought the glass to your lips – pinky up! – and took an exaggeratedly small sip. He pursed his lips and rehomed the bottle on the top shelf, surreptitiously nudging it a little farther back than its neighbors, before tending to other patrons at the bar.

With the barman’s attention gone, your hackles drooped and a heavy, lonely feeling pressed under your skin. You took another sip of your drink, relishing the warmth wrapping you up from the inside out. As you continued to nurse and appreciate the fine liquor, the unwelcome sense of being watched interrupted your balmy journey into inebriation.

You may ‘only’ be Silco’s assistant, working relatively safely within the confines of his office . . .  and at his side –

That weird little zing ricocheted behind your ribs again, like a little bird beating its wings against its cage, trying furiously to free itself. You cleared your throat and your mind of the previous thought.

You may ‘only’ be Silco’s assistant, doing paperwork and pushing pencils, but you had worked for him long enough, lived in Zaun long enough to know when you were being eyeballed.

The rim of the tumbler rested on your lower lip again, and while you took another smooth sip your hooded eyes nonchalantly skirted the bar. No one seemed to be paying you any mind, instead favoring shoulder-cramping hunches that kept their eyes in their drinks. Setting your glass down, you swallowed and casually turned right and left on your stool, miming a search for your bag. As you did so, your eyes briefly lifted to the patrons who were closest to your sides.

Bingo.

A stool down from you to your right, some old codger kept sneering at you and then muttering into his beverage. Continuing your charade, you turned your attention back to your drink. Your elbows rested steadily on the bar top and your hands gently cupped your glass. The amber liquor within wavered a bit, the surface catching and flashing the bar lights prettily. A too-steady calm grounded your bones. You waited and listened.

“What was that?” you asked suddenly and sharply, snapping your head in the man’s direction.

The man jerked in his seat, his drink sloshing a bit over the rim of his tankard. Grumbling, he snatched up a bar napkin and wiped away the small spill. He looked over at you.

“What?”

“That’s what I asked you,” you said, voice steady and cold. “Did you say something to me?”

“For Janna’s sake,” he muttered dabbing the napkin against his scraggly mustache and beard. “I didn’ say nuffin’ to you.”

“Oh? You keep staring at me and then mumbling into your ale. You sure you don’t have anything to say to me?”

The liquor in your veins began to bubble with stupid courage. Normally, you would ignore such a person. Tonight, however, the combination of booze, an aching heart, and a weary mind was sending a confrontational itch under your skin. You spun your body on your stool to face the man and sneered at him. Booze streaming hot reactivity through your body swiftly washed away the thought that this might not be a wise idea.

The man glowered back at you, his teeth grinding together. You prayed he took the bait.

After a moment, he clucked his tongue against the back of his teeth and answered your prayer.

“I ‘s just musin’,” he began, bleary eyes falling back to his mug, “how it is tha’ Silco,” he said the name as if it were a rotten, dirty thing to be spat into the dirt, and it made your temper flare, “can afford t’ stock the bar wif that fancy dreck – which I ain’ never seen an’one but you drink, by the way – but apparently don’ave the coin to fix th’mess he’s made.”

Your fingers tightened around your glass. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

The man scoffed and took another sloppy swig of his beer.

“The Drop ain’ what’t used t’be,” he slurred, almost nostalgically. “Vander’d blow ‘is lid if he could see the place now.”

“Vander betrayed us,” you spat, putting the same emphasis around The Hound’s name as the man had around Silco’s. “He made deals with Topside that kept Zaun from progressing.” You licked your lips, deciding whether or not to delve this argument further into the murk with another controversial topic. Taking the plunge, you added, “And then he abandoned the Lanes with his kids when they screwed up. Silco came in and cleaned his mess up.”

The man’s eyes lit up with a fire that almost took you aback. “Abandoned us, did’e? Naw, girl. I’m no fool. Vander was’n trouble, but he’d never skulk off wiff his tail ‘tween his legs. Not The Hound. I know tha’s the lie you n’ the rest o’ his lot try’n tell us, but I’ll lick Heimerdinger’s boot a’fore’ll believe he left wiff’is kids to leave the Lanes in the slimy hands o’ that rat-faced bastard.”

He took another swig of his ale, half of which dribbled down his chin.

“’Sides,” he continued, “Vander didn’ take all them chitlers wiff ‘im, did’e?” His eyes slid upward to the balcony above you.

Against your better judgement, your head turned and tilted up. A scrawny leg with a too-big shoe dangled from the edge of the upper-level, gently swaying off-beat to the jangly music that filled The Drop. Jinx didn’t seem to be paying attention to anything but the small handful of metal scraps between her fingers. A screwdriver was tucked between her lips and her brow was crunched in concentration as she fiddled with her contraption. She was allowed to meander around The Drop until night fully fell and the club became rowdy with debauchery. At that point she was sequestered back in her and Silco’s living quarters an additional floor up.

“Even though that one’s always been a’bit of’n . . . odd duck,” he continued, “Vander wouldn’t’ve left her.”

“Leave her out of this,” you warned through grit teeth. You’d taken a shine to the young girl Silco brought back from the cannery and your protectiveness of her was only rivaled by that of Silco’s.

The drunk huffed a wheezy laugh. “Oh yeah, wouldn’ wanna bad talk the great Eye of Zaun’s crazy new toy.”

Your fingers squeezed so tightly around your glass that you were surprised it hadn’t shattered.

“I worked wiff’im, Lass,” he slurred, leaning in with a condescending sneer etching his face in deep, craggy channels, “in the mines. Him n’ Vander. Was always a selfish, meddlin’, no-good pipsqueak. Always tailin’ after Vander, ridin’ his coattails. Even now, tha’s what he’s doin’. Vander did all the hard work t’get The Lanes steady n’ then that opportunistic rat scurried in with his mindless, spineless goons n’ did ‘im in. Silco don’ care a lick for t’Undercity. He’s an ugly, schemin’, chinless, buck-toothed – “

You were not in control of what happened next. Even though you were the one who reacted. In a flash, your drink – your expensive drink – was thrown into the man’s face. He cried out and squeezed his eyes tightly as the alcohol burned them. Next, you smashed your tumbler over his skull. The glass shattered and he wailed, toppling off his barstool.

Blood pounded in your ears. Your vision tunneled in on the man scrambling off of the floor. Your arms and legs tingled with adrenaline and fire, rage curdling your blood, as you launched to your feet. Swiping the man’s tankard from the bar and hurling it in his direction. So blinded by your fury, so intent on beating the bastard to a pulp, you didn’t hear or see the bar’s reaction to the sudden fight.

Thieram had yelped and dropped the bottle he was pouring from. The other patrons at the bar jerked their attention away from nursing their drinks; some even backed up and away from your fray. One of the people at the billiards table jumped and scratched a jagged hole in the table’s felt top. The two men playing cards with Sevika spun in their seats, and the Lieutenant herself dropped the cards she was shuffling. Jinx’s body jolted and she tucked her legs up into her chest, big, dewy eyes wide with fear as she watched you attack the man. After a moment, she leapt to her feet and ran upstairs.

The man managed to throw an arm up that prevented the mug of ale from clocking him in the temple. The beer spilled across the floor and the stein bounced and rolled away under a table. Grabbing the man by the collar, you hauled him to his feet, intent on smashing his stupid face into the bar railing. However, as you lifted him (with strength you didn’t know you had) his hand swept across the bar, grabbed a dirty glass and cracked it across your face.

Yelling, you stumbled back, bumping into your stool. One of your hands cupped your numb cheek and felt wetness beneath your palm. He lunged at you, crashing his head into your ribs and wrapping his arms around your middle, causing you both to tumble back.

You hit the floor. Hard. Your spine spasmed and what air was left in your lungs was forcefully pushed out in a stinging wheeze. Your hand wrapped around the leg of a barstool and pulled, crashing it onto your assailant’s back. Something cracked. He roared. Hooking your legs around his waist, you squeezed and rolled the two of you over. Now on top, you bared your teeth and pummeled his face with alternating punches.

Too soon for your liking, a large metal hand grasped the back of your neck and lifted you off the man’s chest. Hissing and kicking, you did your damnedest to try and break free from Sevika’s grip. She was saying something to you – dressing you down – but you couldn’t hear it through the mighty pumping of your vengeful heart. To your abject horror and disgust the man clambered to his feet and spat some teeth onto the floor. He fixed his eyes on you, hot and furious, and took a step towards you and your keeper.

“Back off, buddy. It’s over,” you managed to hear Sevika say.

Over? Over? Like hell it was over! The idea of letting this ass-hat walk out of here after bad-mouthing Silco and Jinx renewed your need to fight. The idea of having to return to your melancholy mind sent destructive fear through your veins. Wriggling under Sevika’s iron grasp, you managed a lucky kick to her groin. She gasped and buckled forward, dropping you.

Freedom sent adrenaline surging through your veins and you launched yourself back at the drunk, fists thumping against his ribs. He coughed and sputtered, staggering back. Clawing at your shirt, he immobilized you enough to jut his knee up into your stomach. A choked cry tore from your bloody mouth and you fell. Before his boot found your hand or head, you scurried back, grabbing a pool cue someone had dropped. The cue extended your arm enough that is it swept through the air it caught your adversary behind the knees. He buckled and crashed to the ground with an outraged wail. As you rose to your feet, you thrust the cue in Sevika’s direction as she made another grab at your shirt. The larger woman snarled, but you didn’t care.

The cue smacked and cracked against the floor as you tried to deliver a blow to the fallen man, but he rolled out of the way and used a grip of the bar railing to clamber to his feet. Abandoning your broken weapon, your hand found a tight grip in the man’s dirty hair and you bashed his face against the bar top. Once again, you failed to notice his wandering hand and he spun back, clocking you across the face with a liquor bottle.

You screamed and reeled back into Sevika’s arms. Before your attacker could hurl himself back at you, bottle in hand, his eyes suddenly went wide and he screamed in agony. You were confused until you saw a familiar, lanky, red, coal, and gold figure in your wavering periphery.

The man was stopped in his tracks by the knife Silco had speared through his free hand, pinning him to the bar. The Eye of Zaun’s lips curled in a bone chilling sneer and he yanked the bottle from the drunk’s hand. To his credit the bloodied and beaten man did not cower in Silco’s presence, despite the Eye’s imposing figure and the blade skewering his hand. The two men stared at each other; Silco’s chin held high, glaring down his nose at the drunk. The drunk huffed breaths through swollen and bloody lips, his eyes bulging with hate as he looked up into Silco’s face before spitting into it.

Without missing a beat, the kingpin cracked the bottle across the drunk’s temple. His eyes rolled back and he collapsed, slumping against the bar, the knife tearing into his hand as the weight of his body heaved to the floor.

“Back upstairs, Jinx,” Silco barked as he took a pocket square from his waistcoat and wiped the saliva from his scarred cheek.

Your eyes jumped over to the stairs and you saw the young girl watching all of you with wide, scared, but interested eyes. Her hands fidgeted and tugged at her shirt’s hem and her bottom lip was tucked safely behind her top teeth. She looked to Silco and then to you, her eyebrows ticking up behind her jagged bangs.

“Jinx,” Silco insisted, firmly yet kindly.

Her eyes went back to him before turning heel and pattering back upstairs.

The Eye of Zaun turned back to the bar, his eyes landing on you, still slumped in Sevika’s arms. Since his appearance, your wrath had ebbed, replaced by a sense of embarrassment and . . . something else. He looked down at you, taking in your injuries with practiced neutrality. Perhaps you wished it, but you thought something flickered behind his eyes.

It couldn’t be worry, could it?

Before you could search for the look again, he turned his attention to the unconscious man at his feet. His lips curled.

“Get him out of here,” he ordered Thieram. “Tell Lock and Jasper he is not allowed back on the premises. Sevika, take her up to my office.”

An annoyed groan rumbled through the Lieutenant’s arms as she hauled the both of you to your feet. Now that your adrenaline had time to wear off, physical pain was beginning to creep its way into your consciousness. A weak, protesting garble slurred past your swollen lips as Sevika lifted you into her arms. She ignored it, as well as the weak wiggle you gave, and followed Silco back upstairs.

Once in his office, Silco strode to his grand desk.

“Put her on the couch,” he said as he began sifting through the desk’s drawers.

Sevika did so, probably with more care than she wanted to do. Your bottom melted into the couch’s cushions and your spine heaved against the tufted back. Now that your head was back over your shoulders, your vision swam and your brain throbbed.

“You’re dismissed,” came Silco’s voice.

Sevika’s fuzzy form hesitated only for a moment before stalking out of the office, slamming the door behind her. You couldn’t bring yourself to turn your head to look at Silco. Partly out of self-consciousness, partly because your stomach was beginning to curdle and squeeze and you feared you may vomit all over your employer’s furnishings.

As if sensing your thoughts, Silco appeared in front of you, a garbage pail in one hand, a cloth and bottle in the other. He set the trash can next to your knee and sat himself down on the coffee table across from the couch. You made a point to stare at the spot above his head.

“What’s your name?” he asked.

You scoffed, protecting your ego from the ridiculous question. Even though it did take you a beat to remember it. You heard yourself finally answer. Silco nodded as he uncorked the bottle.

“Do you know my name?”

“Silco.” That one was easier.

“Do you know where you are?”

“In your office . . . in The Last Drop.”

“What nation do you live in?”

“Zaun.”

A more satisfied nod bobbled Silco’s head as he dampened the cloth with liquid from the bottle. It smelled strongly of astringent. Too strong. Your stomach roiled, sending you pitching over your lap and vomiting into the wastebin. Silco set the antiseptic and cloth down and reached forward to pull your hair away from your face.

Once your throat was raw and your cheeks streaked with tears, you carefully sat back up, Silco’s hands on your shoulders, gently guiding you back. Once you were propped up, he returned to dosing the cloth.

“What happened?” he asked, leaning forward and pressing the saturated cloth to your cheek.

You hissed at the sting and squeezed your eyes shut. An action that sent another almighty throb through your skull.

“I fought a guy.”

“Yes, that’s what Jinx told me,” he said patiently, dabbing blood off your cheek. “What led you to assault a customer?”

Your now empty stomach dipped. Was he angry? Disappointed? Were you about to be fired? Your jaw moved side to side and you chewed on your tongue, not realizing you didn’t answer his question.

Silco’s dual-colored eyes searched your distant face as he continued to wipe it clean.

“I’m wondering if I hired you for the wrong position,” he quipped. Your breathing stilled as you looked at him. Silco didn’t smile, so you assumed your rattled brain was imagining the small tilt of his lips. “I didn’t know you were so quick on your feet or ferocious in a fight. Perhaps your skills are wasted being my assistant – “

“I like being your assistant.”

The words flew from your mouth before you could stop them, much less think about them. Silco stilled in his attentions and your face flushed horribly. Embarrassment bolstered by liquor coursing just under your skin in cherry red splotches.

Silco’s face softened, as did his voice. “I like you as my assistant, as well.”

Your heart fluttered something horribly wonderful behind your ribs. The flush of your cheeks deepened.

“That doesn’t answer my question, though,” Silco said, tone back to something commanding. “What cause did you have to fight that man?”

Once again, you averted your gaze, dropping your eyes down to your cracked, bruised, and bloodied knuckles.

“He . . . he,” you stammered, unwilling to admit what had sent you into such a blind rage.

The sound of Silco saying your name pulled you from your whirling mind. You bashfully looked to him, seeing his aqua and red eye fixed on you.

He really does have lovely eyes, the liquor in your blood whispered.

Silco spoke before any other intrusive thoughts could sing under your skin.

“You know I value loyalty above all else,” he said. “Honesty is a tenant of loyalty. Now tell me, why were you fighting that man?”

“Because he was speaking poorly of you,” you admitted, your eyes darting away from his.

Silco’s hand paused in its cleaning of your face. You felt his eyes on you in a meaningful way. He let out a small sigh before taking up one of your hands and began to tend to your knuckles.

“There are plenty of Zaunites who do not agree with my leadership,” he mused and you watched his fingers tend to your own.

He held your hand so, so softly. Not as if he were fearful of hurting you, nor as if he didn’t want to touch you. He held it reverently. You couldn’t remember anyone ever touching you in such a way.

“Even the Chem-Barons have their qualms about me,” Silco continued. “For the most part it is petty jealousy parading as gossip. Childish, but benign and meaningless. I will not spare my thoughts or energy on those who do not like me. I am only interested in freeing Zaun.”

Well, I’m interested in you, the booze swimming in your head countered. You hiccupped as a means to stop that thought from coming out of your mouth.

“Why do you give your attention to such people?” he asked, switching the hand he was working on.

“Because everyone should understand and respect how hard you’re working,” you mumbled through swollen lips. “They should be grateful for your passion.”

His thumb swept affectionately over the top of your hand as he cleaned your knuckles. It was the action that proved to be your undoing. Sighing, you allowed your careful mind to rest and let the looseness of liquor coat your insides. Your fingers curled gently, awkwardly around Silco’s hand. It was very warm. Soft in some places, but firm in others where chronic calluses used to blossom and build. His hand stilled in your own, but he made no attempt to pull away. You weren’t certain, but he may have even firmed up his own grip.

“I am grateful for your passion, Silco,” you murmured. Finally, you lifted your gaze to his. “I like being your assistant because I get to see you up close. Your passion, your vision, your drive. It inspires me. I’ve never seen anything like it. I wouldn’t want to work the streets because I wouldn’t get to be with you.”

Silco’s lips parted infinitesimally, and his blue eye widened a touch. He reached his free hand up and gently touched your sore and swollen cheek. An unbidden hiss swept through your teeth and the swell of your cheek rose up in a wince. The little wonder left Silco’s face, his brow furrowed and hand dropped away.

“No!” you cried, vocal cords cracking under the sudden explosion of sound.

Your body leaned forward to chase his hand, but the bourbon and fight made you body sloppy and heavy. The lean veered over to the right, and you would’ve toppled ass-over-tea-kettle if Silco hadn’t caught you, his large hands cupping each shoulder blade. The plump cushion of your cheek smashed against his chest and your leadened arms looped around his thin waist.

“You smell good,” came the drunken mumble from your lips, voice muffled by the silken fabric of his waistcoat.

Silco’s ribcage spasmed in a huff. You weren’t sure if it was amusement or disgust. However, as his hands pressed into your back and held you closer, your foolish heart leapt, fueled by disbelief and hope. The warmth brushed against the scarred wounds etched in the organ, and your logical brain surged back on line. But before you pressed yourself away from his chest, Silco rested his cheek against your hair.

“Thank you,” he whispered, “for your fierce and unwavering loyalty. For me and Jinx. For Zaun.”

Like a switch, your brain flipped back off and your drunk heart melted further against his. After some time, Silco carefully lifted you up, his hands shifting to hold the fronts of your shoulders. Your watery gaze slid up to his. Once again, he went to brush his thumb against your bruised cheek.

“This cut is very deep. I’m wondering if – “

Silco’s wonder was cut off by the press of your mouth on his. A most un-kingpinly squeak peeped out from him, but he didn’t pull away. He tasted like cigars, Shimmer, and warmth. And home.

With a loud smack! you broke away from him and flopped onto the couch.

“I like you, Silco,” you slurred, eyelids and head growing heavy.

 Your feet shifted against the rug, knees knocking in together as you considered standing.

“I should go,” you yawned. Your legs didn’t move. “Am I walking to the door yet?”

“No,” came Silco’s voice. A combination of something amused and baffled. “You’re not leaving, anyhow.”

“No, no. I can’t stay. You’ve already done enough – “

“Nonsense. You’re concussed. And drunk. You’re staying.”

Silco rose to his feet, cupping the back of your legs, gently spinning you on your seat until you were horizontal on the couch. He propped your head and back up with several cushions and retrieved a blanket from the steam trunk behind the couch, covering your body.

“Silco, you don’t have to do this,” you grumbled, although you did nothing to stop him.

“Shush. The Brothers and Sisters of Zaun are loyal to each other. I will work and keep an eye on you,” he murmured, brushing the hair out of your face.

“Are you doing this just because I said I liked you?” The question mumbled through your lips, as you rubbed your face snuggly into the back of the couch.

“No,” he answered. You were on the fringes of a drunk sleep, so you weren’t sure if you imagined him saying, “I’m doing this because I like you, too.”

It felt like you slept a thousand years. At least, you felt like you were a thousand years old as you awoke the following morning. Your body ached, but it was nothing to how your head throbbed and pounded. The bed beneath you felt strange and stiff. Perhaps because it wasn’t a bed at all, you realized, but a couch. You dared to crack your eyes open and you saw red upholstery. Then you smelled . . . cigars.

Your body jerked and jolted up. An action you quickly regretted as the column of your spine spasmed and skull exploded. Groaning, your arms gathered around your knees and dropped your forehead to them. As quickly as your addled brain could piece thoughts together, the previous night swam up in wavering ripples and puddles.

You nursing a chronically aching heart with the expensive bourbon Silco allowed you.

Listening to some twat talk out his ass.

Knocking said twat on his ass.

But he got a few hits in, too, remembering a glass and bottle to your dome.

Silco stopped him before he could rattle you any further.

Silco tended to your wounds. He pulled the hair from your face when you threw up.

Cautiously glancing down at the floor, you spied a clean waste basket. On the coffee table there was a tray that held a silver pitcher and a waiting glass. And a bottle of painkillers.

Your stomach reeled, but not from your aching head. How you had behaved, what you had said, what you did flooded your mind. The blood and warmth drained from your hungover face. Nervously, your eyes peered over your shoulder.

Thank Janna.

He was not at his desk. You might still be able to get out of here with what was left of your dignity. Gingerly, your feet found the floor and your toes flexed inside your boots. Gripping the seat cushion, you prepared to haul yourself onto your woozy legs, but your eyes got stuck on the tray of water and medicine in front of you. Where he had sat.

Silco tended to your wounds. Held your hair from your face. Held you to him when you tumbled forward. He didn’t pull away when you kissed him – GODS! You couldn’t believe you did that! You knew better! Professionally and personally. He didn’t rebuke your drunken . . . confession . . .

The ground felt like it crumbled beneath your feet. Your insides went cold.

You liked him. Not just admired. Liked. Crushed. Infatuated.

Despite the fact that prior relationships had taught you better, you fell again. For your boss.

For the Eye of Zaun.

You were screwed. You’d never recover from this.

The office door opened and you jumped.

“You’re awake,” Silco noted, closing the door behind him.

He was dressed just in his trousers and button-up shirt. His hair wasn’t quite coifed yet and his scar laid bare. The green light streaming in from the window beyond his desk bathed him in an eerily beautiful light. The picture of Zaun itself.

His face was soft in the morning and its light. He smiled.

“May we talk?”

Maybe you wouldn’t want to recover from this.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Notes: Thank you for reading this too long one-shot! If you liked it, please comment/reblog :)

If the effects of the flower last for only seconds in mammals...then those rats must've really liked each other...

Also, I can't help but imagine Singed coming back to the lab and finding the vials and stuff broken on the floor and like: "What happened here?" And the reader, immediately embarassed and trying not to show it: "Umm...I fell"

Taking Risks

[Explicit] AO3

Silco x f!reader, smut, sex pollen, workplace sex, handjob, penis in vagina sex

Word count: 4.3k

Posting a few hours early because why not! I've never been good about waiting until Christmas day to give gifts.

As one of Silco's scientists, it's up to you to research the local flora and fauna for anything that could be useful for the Eye of Zaun. When a mysterious red flower blossoms outside of Singed's cave, Silco gives you one week to find out what it can do. Against all better judgement and laboratory safety protocol, you personally find out the effects of the flower's pollen.

A bead of sweat trickles down your forehead into your furrowed eyebrows, your eyes unblinking as you concentrate on your task, hands shaking all the while. The small, delicate red flower in your hand flutters with each quiver of your hands, its petals bouncing along as if dancing with you. 

Almost… almost…

Finally, you manage to transfer the plant to its new home, a larger pot with more enriched soil. But you don't dare relax yet, not until you can get it into its glass case.

Once the clear door swings shut, you finally breathe a sigh of relief, your hands quick to remove the mask from your face. Your gloves are piled on top of your respirator as you slump into your chair.

You and Singed had discovered this new flora popping up around the cave. Despite all your studies, you know nothing about it. There is no literature on it, leading you and Singed to take a few samples to research.

Safety is paramount. Given some of the more… exciting plantlife that can be found in the Undercity, Singed stressed above all else protecting your lungs and your skin. So every time you've handled the crimson red flower, you've donned both a respirator and heavy duty gloves. 

You look up from your desk when you hear booted footsteps approaching the cave. The steady cadence is familiar and you rise to your feet, bringing both hands behind you as you wait for your employer. When he reaches the mouth of the cave, his form is cast in shadow, the afternoon sun backlighting him so that he's merely a silhouette. 

All except for his demon eye.

Swirling lava in a bed of obsidian, his left eye glows as he looks at you. As he steps further into the cave, you can make out more of his appearance, though you can easily predict what that would be, given his penchant for wearing the same outfit as if it were a uniform. Long, dark charcoal coat with gold trim and maroon lining; matching vest with intricate detailing; dark slacks with maroon along the sides. It's an ensemble you and the rest of the Lanes are familiar with.

“Good afternoon, Silco,” you greet warmly.

He nods to you, a subtle but unmistakable smile on his lips as he says your name.

“Afternoon.”

“Are you here for your medicine?”

“I am,” he replies, mismatched eyes scanning the cave. When his gaze comes across the crimson flower in its glass enclosure, he pauses, his good eyebrow ticking up in silent question.

“New flora that we discovered. We're trying to figure out what we can derive from it,” you explain.

He nods, lips pressed together.

“And?”

“Nothing yet, sir.”

His eyes track down the flower, studying it. Continuing their journey, his gaze lands on your workstation, ocean green and volcanic orange settling on the small pile of protective gear on your table.

“Better safe than sorry,” you offer.

He turns to you.

“Singed's idea?”

“Yes.”

A short exhale puffs out Silco's nostrils as the scarred corner of his lips curl up.

“He's always been so protective of you,” Silco hums. He steps closer to the glass, looking down his nose at the specimen. “It's likely why you haven't immediately figured out what this can do.”

Your eyebrows furrow.

“Sir?”

He chuckles.

“The good doctor has grown soft. Before you arrived, he would've already had this tested on multiple human subjects by now. Science is about taking risks.”

“That's reckless; taking precautions isn't ‘growing soft,’” you're quick to defend. “Until we know exactly what this plant is capable of, we have to treat it as if it is lethal. It very well could be.”

Silco turns to you, only his corrupted profile visible to you. The soft light from the flower’s tank somehow manages to smooth his rough features, the deep cuts along his cheek shallower and less pronounced than before. Finally, he nods.

His eyes linger on yours, waiting.

“Oh, right!”

You leap from your spot toward the back of the cave. After retrieving the small wooden box that houses Silco's medicine, you rush back.

“Here you go! Should last you another week.”

Silco takes it from you before slipping it into a hidden pocket in the lining of his coat. He gives a small, subtle nod in thanks before turning to the mouth of the cave.

His booted footsteps echo off the stone walls as he departs. Just as he reaches the entrance, he turns over his shoulder.

“I expect an update on this flower when I return.”

His footsteps continue on, softer and softer until you can no longer hear them.

You turn back to the flower in question, one of its stems raised up as if waving to you.

One week to figure this thing out.

Shit.

You spend the next two days going through your usual set of tests. All of them are inconclusive. As your deadline draws ever closer, your mind replays Silco's words.

“Science is about taking risks.”

You shake your head, waving your hand at the voice as if dispelling smoke. 

I'm not going to get myself killed just for some plant and arbitrary deadline.

And yet, you feel yourself drawn to the flower. It taunts you from its glass case, its deep red petals begging to be touched. 

You can run all the tests you want, but there's no denying that they can't replace the human experience.

What does the flower smell like?

How soft and delicate are its petals?

You let out a groan. There's no use asking such useless questions. Not when you still have so much work to do.

The next day, you start to grow more desperate. Singed has been busy with other projects, leaving this flower entirely in your hands. 

You grab your gloves and mask, leaving the cave for a change of scenery. Donning your protective gear, you trek to the small patch of grass where you had first discovered the plant. Perhaps studying its surroundings can prove beneficial.

When you arrive, you're stunned to find the makings of far more flowers than were there previously. Smaller buds rise up from the soil all around the original flower. 

Your eyes dart around the area, checking for any signs of animal interaction with the plant: a bite mark, a paw print, anything to let you know if another creature has been close to the flower and lived. Your lips purse together as you search, half expecting to find a half-eaten flower and a small corpse next to it, signaling to you that this plant is lethal.

But you find none.

In fact, the area surrounding the flower seems more full of life than before. Bees hover and buzz around the flowers, their little fuzzy legs dotted with the flower’s pollen. A few small, furry critters chatter and squeak excitedly behind a nearby bush. You crouch down to get a better look to find two wharf rats procreating rather enthusiastically.

You straighten back up, eyes narrowing.

Seeing such a display in your research is far from out of the ordinary, but what was odd was the manner in which they were mating. Most mating rituals between mammals of that type are very methodical. Get through it quickly, pass down their genes from their generation to the next, nothing more, nothing less.

You crouch back down, your curiosity getting the better of you. The two wharf rats are still going at it, and not only that, their pace is more languid, more deliberate than you're used to seeing in this species. A word whispers in your ears that you've never used to describe mating rituals in all your years of science.

Sensual.

You leap back to your feet, cheeks flushed with heat. Eyes wide and darting, you quickly make your way back to the cave and attempt to rid your mind of what you just saw.

The day before Silco's arrival, you cannot put it off any longer. There were no signs of death, decay, or sickness around the flowerbed. So the likelihood that this plant is lethal are low.

Silco's voice remains a taunting spectre, whispering in your ear as you stare at the flower that continues to elude you.

The small specs of yellow pollen that dot its stamen seem to glow, they twinkle in the soft light like little gems. The warm hue of the petals looks so inviting, such a beautiful color that you cannot tear your eyes away from. 

You feel a pull, a strong sense of yearning as you lean closer to the glass. All thought leaves you, replaced entirely by instinct, your body moving as if puppeted by an invisible hand. Your gloves fall to the floor, your respirator quick to follow. Hands reach out, delicate fingers wrapping around the small brass knob and pulling.

The aroma is instant, its scent intoxicating and irresistible. Like the sweetest of honeys.

You step closer, your hands a soft trace along a crimson petal. The second your skin makes contact with it, you feel a satisfying thrum shoot from your hand, up your arm, and down into your navel. When you bring your face to hover above the welcoming crown of petals, you take a deep breath in through your nose and are immediately met with warmth coursing through your veins. Your eyes flutter closed as you drink in the scent, allowing it to surround you. Warmth pools in your belly as your heart rate climbs, your chest heaving as your breathing grows shallow.

All thoughts of safety and protocol left you as soon as you had reached for that handle.

You're so enraptured by the aroma that you don't notice the sound of booted footsteps as they approach. It's not until Silco calls out your name that you jump out of your skin and turn to face him.

He smirks wickedly at you.

“Silco!” You shut the glass case behind you. “You're a day early!”

“And yet, it would seem not a moment too soon,” he quips, his stride a predatory, graceful pace as he closes the distance between your bodies. “Am I to witness the first human trial?”

He stops a few feet from you, his eyes raking over your body. All at once, you feel naked under his gaze and the sensation sends molten lava to settle between your legs.

“I…” You struggle to get the words out. “I don't know what came over me.”

“Not to worry,” Silco says as he brings Singed's stool around and makes himself comfortable in it in one smooth motion. “I can monitor you. Administer first aid if necessary.”

With his chin tilted up at you, you can see the long column of his neck peeking out from the collar of his shirt. Your eyes seem capable of seeing much more than before, pupils quick to catch the subtle pulsing of his heartbeat underneath his skin. Your heart beats in time with it, as if synchronizing with it. Eyes flick up to Silco's and your throat bobs when you see he's studying you just as closely.

“What do you feel?” He hums.

“I feel…” You let out a shaky exhale, your skin on fire underneath your clothes. You take a deep breath in and suddenly become acutely aware of the rise and fall of your chest and the way your nipples harden beneath your bra. “I feel… too hot and too cold.” Your throat bobs. “Like I have a fever.”

Silco's eyebrows pinch minutely as he rises to his feet. Without warning, he brings the back of his hand to your forehead. His skin is cool to the touch and you can't help the way your eyes flutter closed at the sensation, a feeling of relief like a cold drink on a hot summer day.

“Mmm,” he hums. “Yes, you are warm.” He pulls his hand away and you resist the urge to chase it. “Any other symptoms?”

“My… my mouth feels dry and my heart is racing.”

You can feel the heat of his body as he stands in front of you, warm and foreboding. He brings one hand up to your neck, fingertips pressing into your pulse point. 

As you stand like this, you can smell every bit of him: his oak cologne, the remnants of a rich cigar lingering on the fabric of his clothes, the faintest hint of his sweat underneath his many layers of garments. You feel drunk off his scent and all at once remember what you witnessed the day prior.

“Oh gods,” you whisper to yourself.

“What is it?” Concern paints the features of Silco's face as his hand leaves you. “Are you okay?”

“I know what the flower is,” you say, less spoken and more breathed out, voice like smoke rising to the ceiling.

Silco's eyes search yours, his head ticking to the side.

“It's an aphrodisiac,” you finally conclude, pupils blown out as they meet Silco's two-toned eyes.

Silco's eyebrows lift, his lips coming together in a curious pout. Your eyes track the movement, lingering on his mouth. Without thinking, you wet your lips with your tongue.

But then he's saying your name again and you're snapping out of it.

“Did I hear you correctly?”

You nod.

“You said it's an aphrodisiac.”

You nod again.

He steps closer to you and you can't help but step back, your back hitting the flower's glass case.

“Are you sure?”

Your eyes widen as you nod once again, as if the flower is equal parts truth serum, as if opening your mouth to speak will spill all your thoughts and feelings and wants and needs.

Like the impossibly strong need to feel the weight of Silco's body on you, to taste his lips, to caress his skin, to ride his co—

Silco's hand comes up, holding your jawline as he inspects your face. Your breath gets caught in your throat as he turns you this way and that, studying you. There's a burning fire under your skin where Silco's hand touches you, more heat rushing to pool at the apex of your legs.

He lets go of your face and you let out a shaky exhale.

“What aren't you telling me?”

Your eyes dart to the side, avoiding his.

“I… I can't.”

“And why not?”

“It's… it's just the pollen. I can't say it. It wouldn't be appropriate.”

His good eyebrow ticks up.

“Tell me.” His voice is a haunting melody, an enchanting song that you want to get lost in. “I won't hold it against you. After all, this is all in the name of science.”

I want to kiss you.

I want to feel you.

I want you to make love to me.

I want you to fuck me.

Your mind races through each desire. Somehow, even in your delirious state, you manage to keep the worst of it to yourself.

“I want to kiss you.”

“Oh?”

You nod, quick to add conditionals. “Like I said, that's the pollen talking.”

He takes a step back and you hold back a whine at the loss of his body heat. His lips turn downward into a small frown.

“I'm hurt. Am I so undesirable that only an aphrodisiac can make a kiss from me appealing?”

“What? No! Of course not!” You rush to reassure him. “I think you're a very attractive man—”

He smirks.

“Very attractive?” He repeats wickedly.

“Silco, please—” you breathe out, defeated.

“Please, what?” He steps back into your space and you feel lightheaded from his towering presence. His eyes track down your face, leaving small fires in their wake on your skin. His gaze lingers on your mouth, which has fallen open against your will. “Should I put you out of your misery?”

He slots himself between your legs and you let out a small whimper when you feel his clothed erection against your core.

“For science, of course,” he adds, voice dark and teasing. He rolls his hips against you and you let out a pathetic gasp as lightning shoots through you.

The pollen has worked itself so thoroughly into your system, replacing all your inhibitions with carnal, animalistic needs. All thoughts of professional, social, and emotional ramifications out the window as you fist Silco's vest in your hands, clinging to him. 

Your eyes dart between ocean green and volcanic orange to find that both his pupils are blown out, a dark abyss in his eyes that you find yourself willingly tumbling face first into.

The last of your reserve snaps and you crash your lips into his in a messy, frenzied kiss. He answers back in kind, his arms wrapping around your waist to pull you closer as he takes charge of the kiss. His tongue a needy press to the part of your lips, quick to claim yours as his own. He tastes of cigars and top-shelf liquor.

It's not enough.

You push him forward, your hands moving to rid him of his coat. Without breaking off the kiss, he shrugs out of the sleeves, letting the fabric pool onto the stone floor as you both stumble through the cave. Your hands grab at him, tugging on the fabric of his shirt to untuck it from his pants as his slide over the swell of your ass. He lifts you and you're quick to wrap your legs around his waist, content to let him carry you to your workstation. Vials and supplies fall to the floor and shatter as he swipes one arm across the desktop to make room, planting you on the edge of the cold metal surface.

Foreheads pressed together, you break off the kiss as you both work frantically to rid each other of your clothes; your hands shaking as you unbutton the four gold buttons at the front of his pants while his hands yank your underwear down from under your skirt. There's the sound of tearing as he pulls the damp fabric off you, exposing your core to the chill air of the cave.

His hands tuck underneath your knees as he pulls you forward, your ass hovering over the edge of the table. You somehow manage to undo his pants without looking, your hand wrapping around his naked erection, a sigh leaving your lips as you feel the weight of him in the palm of your hand.

He lets out a groan as you do one experimental stroke from his shaft to his reddened head. And when you do it again, you're rewarded with the slick of precum dripping from the tip.

As you continue to work him, Silco buries his face in the crook of your neck, his breath hot as he sucks a mark into your skin, claiming you. Your wanton moan bounces off the stone walls, filling the air.

Then, Silco's hands are at your blouse, pushing the hem up to expose your stomach and then your bra. The fabric bunches at your collarbone as he plants a series of hungry kisses along the top swell of your breast, mere inches from where you need him most. Then, as if reading your mind, he tugs the fabric of your bra down to wrap his teeth around your hardened nub. You let out a cry when he bites down on your nipple, your hand stilling its ministrations as you're overcome with a wave of pleasure, enhanced by the flower’s pollen coursing through your nervous system.

“Silco!” You cry out when you feel his hand at your core, long fingers massaging your glistening entrance as he gathers your arousal. Slick fingers glide through your folds before swirling a tantalizing circle into your clit, forcing a low moan out of your throat. But your relief is short-lived as Silco's hand leaves your core. Your eyes widen when he brings it to his lips, licking a long stripe along his fingers.

“Is that all for me? Or just from the pollen?” He asks, voice ragged.

You huff out a small laugh.

“Can it be both?”

He hums, bringing his hand back to the apex of your legs.

You continue to work each other, chests heaving, breaths mixing in the middle. It's not at all the sensual love-making you would have liked, but you can't complain, not when his fingers are massaging your clit so perfectly. 

It's still not enough.

“Silco— I need you,” you manage to get out between gasps. “Please.”

He lets out a low growl, teeth bared as he smiles down at you.

“Well, since you begged so sweetly.”

One hand wrapped around your lower back while the other holds his shaft, he presses his head against your entrance. You let out a whimper as he teases you open more and more. Then, with a rock of his hips, he presses into you, stretching your walls as he sheathes himself inside you. Your nails dig into the fabric of his shirt as you're overcome by the stretch of him, his girth alone almost sending you over the edge.

You feel so full and yet it's still not enough. You need more. The pollen in your veins insatiable as you roll your hips against him.

“Ah!” Your clit rubs against his pelvis as he rocks his hips up, sending lightning to shoot from your core outwards. You can feel it buzzing and humming in the soles of your feet and each of your fingertips.

One hand planted on the metal tabletop, the other tangling into your hair, Silco continues to fuck up into you, a low hum at his throat with each thrust. Your hands find their way to his ass and you let out a whine at the way his body seems to roll with each piston of his hips, the erotic movement of his body against yours sending more warmth to your core.

Your breath is hot on his neck, coming out in short puffs with each thrust. You've lost all semblance of modesty or shame as you lose yourself to Silco's movements, a slow, sensual rhythm that's equal parts erotic and carnal.

Your blood feels like it's on fire in your veins and as you feel your pleasure building with every roll of Silco's hips, every grunted breath against your ear, your eyes widen. This climax threatens to be the most powerful one you've ever experienced, one so strong you're not sure you can survive it. Will the pollen that's in your system burn you from the inside out the instant you reach your peak? Will you simply collapse into a heap after you know relief?

As Silco continues to fuck up into you, you find you don't care.

If this is how I die, so be it.

You drag your nails into the fabric at Silco's back, rolling your hips to match his rhythm.

There are worse ways to go.

Silco's hips stutter and you can feel him getting impossibly harder within you. As your cries grow in pitch and volume, Silco's muffled groans and grunts get louder as well. The sensuality of your union giving way to that visceral, carnal animal act. 

Just a little more.

You grind your clit against his pelvis, mouth hanging open as incoherent sounds leave you.

More.

Silco's lips are back on your neck, tongue a warm press against your pulse point, his breath hot on your skin.

His voice is ragged when he speaks and you can tell from the way his hips almost vibrate that he's getting close to his release as well.

“I should've— planted those flowers—ngh!—much sooner.”

Your eyes fly open.

“What?! You knew what they were?”

“I know everything, darling,” he growls, his pace picking up, threatening to send you over the edge. “I know the effects they have on mammals.”

A sharp thrust that leaves you sighing.

“I know they trigger arousal.”

Another thrust, sending stars to dot your vision.

“And I know that their effects only last for mere seconds.”

“Seconds?” you gasp out, holding onto Silco for dear life as he continues to fuck up into you. “So that means —”

“Yes, dear,” he purrs. “Everything else is simply your attraction to me.”

You want to be angry. To be insulted. But as you both charge at full speed to your peak, the only thing you feel with absolute certainty is alive.

You let out a cry as your walls flutter around him, you climax washing over you in a torrential wave. Clinging to him, you gasp through your orgasm as you feel overcome with pleasure throughout your entire body. As you come undone around him, he thrusts once more, as deep as your entangled bodies will allow, his hips stilling and his release following hot on the heels of yours. You can feel his cock pulsing while you ride out your high, stunned by the magnitude of your climax and Silco's revelation.

You find you don't have the energy to care at his subterfuge, not when you're so fuckdrunk off him that you can't remember your own name. As the last of your climax subsides, you feel every muscle in your body relaxing, the burning sensation under your skin finally cooling back to calmer waters.

You slump into Silco, your arms tucked to your chest as you cling to the fabric of his vest. His arms envelope you, holding you close as both your chests heave, your breathing ragged and labored.

When finally you regain your breath, you look up at Silco with half-lidded eyes.

“I can't believe you planted those just to get me to have sex with you.”

His good eyebrow lifts in response.

“No one forced you to smell them,” he counters.

You narrow your eyes at him but have no energy left to offer a rebuttal. He continues to hold you to his chest before chuckling. You look up at him, eyebrows furrowed.

“How do you think these flowers would look on my nightstand?”

You let out a soft, tired laugh.

“I don't know. Only one way to find out.”

A/N: I finally wrote a sex pollen fic! I wanted reader to be under the effects of it rather than Silco.

Taglist: @averagecrastinator @mazikomo @writingmysanity @insult-2-injury @ariaud @jennrosefx @ins0mniac-whack @steponmesilco  @sherwood-forests @leave-me-alone-silco @givemebeansnow @aeryntheofficial @dreamyonahill @lostbunn @eurydicethesage @thepineapplesimp @whatisafandom @violet-19999 @juicboxd @sageandberries-png @delta-is-here @beardedladyqueen @mutedwordz @fly-like-egyptian-musk @jennithejester @mrsdelirium @witheringblooddemon

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OH. MY. FUCKING. GODS.

A day hasn't passed where I wouldn't think about this series. I already spewed so many times how much I love your portraytion of Silco and this chapter only made my obsession with your works stronger.

I loved all the fluff in this, the soothing, the emotions, everything. It was a perfect thing to end my day after my nightshift ^w^

But one thing stood out to me. I know you said you wanted this series to be loaded with other relationships/subpllts tham just focusing on Silco and the reader. And you really did it beautifully! The way Sevica admits she's glad the reader is okay might not seem like much, but if you know her, it means so fucking much. She's not one to voice ger emotions often, so for her to admit that, even if it was to affirm Silco in that "argument" of theirs, she wouldn't lie. And she still said it, which means the wlrry she must have felt was way bigger for her to admit it like that, so easily, for lack of a better word.

And Zane??? It had me cljtching my heart, what he did for the reader. The soup moment was so sweet, because not only did the reader manage to get close to Silco, she also gained friends. Something she thought she would never have again adter everything she lost in her life.

You're...you're fucking perfect. Never stop what you do (I'll fucking lerish if you do)

The Mad Scientist's Assistant - Chp 27

Chapter 27—Bit by Bit, Piece by Piece (AO3)

Full TMSA masterlist

Previous Chapter: Chapter 26

Rating: Explicit. Minors DNI 

Chapter Tags: Silco x Fem!Reader, Reader-Insert, some short-term amnesia

Chapter word count: 8.4k

Chapter Beta Readers: Thank you as always @purplefangirl42

Total word count: 172k

Darkness.

In the darkness, there's no pain, no guilt, no anger, no longing.

Only darkness.

Both weightless and untethered, yet unable to move. Suspended in both space and time.

No light can enter. No sound. No smell. No taste. 

How much time has passed? Has it even passed at all? Seconds, minutes, hours, days. None of it matters in this limbo between waking and dreaming. Then—

Something manages to slip past the barrier. A sound. It's hushed and broken, yet familiar. It grows stronger and louder, the unintelligible hums become more refined, more crisp until words can be parsed. They drift in and out, simultaneously so close yet so far away.

You hear a word, repeated over and over. It sounds so familiar. 

Why does it sound so familiar?

There's something important about this word. Something you can't quite place. Like it's been with you forever. Like it's accompanied you through everything you've ever known.

You cling to it, focus in on it, listening for more. 

Is it… is it your name?

Yes! That word, that sound; it's you! It's your name!

Your ears prick with every broken whisper of your name, with every shaking prayer.

You try to call out to it, your lips forming another word. It feels harsh on your tongue. Bittersweet. Like you've had so much of it that you can't take anymore. And yet you want more. 

What is that word?

It's a dew drop on your tongue, a melody in your voice. 

A name. 

Bit by bit, you piece yourself together, using the murmured hums and gentle touches from the other side as a guide.

First, your ears, honing in on the sounds around you.

Then, your hand, as something warm envelopes it, squeezing it tightly.

Your nose. The scent of gunpowder, river sludge, Shimmer, and something else. Something also familiar. Tobacco.

Your mouth. The taste of iron.

Your torso. A dull ache, a tightness that seems to wrap around you.

Slowly, painstakingly, each part of you pulls out from underneath the heavy veil of unconsciousness. With every piece of you, you relearn what it is to be human.

To feel alive.

Your eyes are the last to awaken. With each flutter of your eyelids, you feel the weight of them as they sink back down. Heavy, so heavy.

Was it always this hard? 

A soft orange glow, a beacon. A lamp? No. The sun? 

Your eyes drift closed again but you fight them, focusing all your energy to open them once more. When that proves too difficult, you turn your attention elsewhere, honing in on a sensation.

Warmth and weight on your hand.

Experimentally, you wiggle your fingers. There's resistance and pressure as the pads of your fingers press against something. You do it again, a little harder, until you're squeezing your fingers around it.

You sense something move in front of you, startled. There's pressure on your face as something warm yet rough presses against your jawline, something caressing your cheek.

Your ears pick up a sound. It sounds like your name. Your lips move to respond to it.

“Silco?”

Your throat is scratchy, your voice hoarse.

More feelings. More sensations.

Every part of you cries out in discomfort, a deep ache all over your body that won't go away.

But the hand in yours is soft and warm. As is the voice that says your name.

You squeeze the hand.

It squeezes back.

Your eyes open.

That soft orange glow. That light in the darkness. It shines before you now, ever present, unblinking. Your eyes focus, your vision growing more refined by the second until you can clearly see the beacon that guides you home.

Silco's corrupted eye.

The veil falls away until it feels like a distant memory, a hazy dream, leaving only…

“Silco.”

The man lays in front of you in bed, one hand in yours while his other tenderly strokes your cheek. His mismatched eyes swim as they take in your tired, confused face.

His lips are parted in awe, his eyebrows curled inwards in disbelief. 

He says your name again.

It sends warmth to your chest.

Slowly, and with great effort, you take in your surroundings. You're on a bed of some sort, somewhere dark except for the faint green light from somewhere further away. As your eyes adjust to the darkness, you're able to take in a little more. 

“Your—” he whispers, blinking. It's as if he has a thousand things to say and doesn't know in what order he should do so. “It… it worked.”

You feel as if you've joined a conversation mid-sentence.

“What worked?” You croak out, your throat burning.

A smile spreads across his face. It crinkles at his eyes and makes him look a decade younger. It's the happiest you've seen him since you've met him. 

“Your cure.” He presses his forehead to yours, his good eye closing. “Your cure worked.”

You're not entirely sure what he's talking about, your mind unable to recall anything before this very moment. But you can tell from Silco's expression that this is good news, so you try to humor him.

Your lips pull into a smile, but it's crooked with the way your face presses into the pillow. It doesn't quite reach your eyes, limited by the exhaustion that continues to grip you.

“Yay…” you let out a small, pathetic whisper of an exclamation, pulling a soft chuckle from the man across from you.

As a bit more energy returns to you, you shift in the bed. Pressing off your arms, you grunt as you raise yourself up to sit. Silco follows suit, a look of concern on his face.

You suck air through your teeth as a sharp bolt of pain shoots through you from your shoulder, across your spine, and down to your hip. Squeezing your eyes shut, you ride out the pain, your breath hitching.

“Take it slow. You suffered a major injury,” Silco coos. “Breathe.”

You nod, taking a deep breath in through your nose before pushing it out your mouth. The sting eases slightly.

Another breath.

You open your eyes, relieved.

Looking around, you realize you're in Singed's cave. And not only that, you're in his bed.

I knew he had a room in here…

The blanket on you falls away and you look down to see that your entire torso has been wrapped in gauze.

You turn to your bedmate, confused.

“Why am I wrapped like a mummy?”

Silco lets out a soft chuckle.

“That's a long story. One I can tell you after you've had some time.”

He tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, gazing into your eyes.

“All you need to know for now is: you're okay. Everyone's okay.” 

You feel as if a weight has been lifted off your shoulders. But even as that relief settles in, your body cries out, already desperate for a break.

Slowly, you sink back down on the bed into the same position as before.

The mattress groans as Silco's weight leaves it.

“Get some rest. I'll have food waiting for you when you wake.”

He starts to leave, but your hand reaches out instinctively to grab his wrist.

“Silco?”

He pauses.

“Thank you.”He gives you a soft smile in response. “By all accounts,” he hums, “I should be thanking you.”

The next time you wake, Silco brings you a tray with a bowl of stew. As you sit up in bed, content to let the hot soup soothe your scratchy throat, Silco recounts everything that happened after leaving his office.

As he talks, you struggle to recall the memories of what he's telling you. The images and sounds are hazy and muddled at best. You suspect your brain is trying to protect you from the trauma your body just went through.

Four days.

You were out for four days.

You certainly feel like it, your body aching all over as if you'd been run over by a Chemtank. 

“What happens now?” 

“All that's left is meeting with the Chembarons to divy up Finn's territory.”

You roll your eyes. “Something tells me none of them will be that heartbroken at his passing.”

Silco smirks, but adds nothing.

After a moment, you see him do something he's never done before. You blink as you watch, a smile curling on your lips.

He yawns.

“I think it's the Eye of Zaun’s bedtime,” you laugh.

He shoots you a look, equal parts annoyance and amusement. But then you find yourself yawning as well, your eyelids growing heavier by the second.

“Yours as well,” he hums.

He stands, removing the tray and empty bowl from your lap.

“Thank you.”

“Don't thank me. The stew was all Zane's doing.”

You blink.

“Really?”

He hums in confirmation, using his free hand to adjust the sheets for you.

“Get some rest. I'll be here when you wake.”

You stir out of sleep at the sound of two voices speaking in hushed tones. Too tired to open your eyes, you're content to simply lay and just listen. After a while, you realize the voice that accompanies Silco's is Sevika's. The pair seem to be talking at the entrance to Singed’s room, if you could call it that.

“How long are you going to play nurse? We need you back.”

“You've managed fine without me—”

“Any longer and you risk a coup. The Chembarons will sniff out and exploit any weakness—”

“I just got rid of their biggest headache,” Silco shoots back, voice straining to stay quiet and hold back its edge. “They won't try anything so foolish.”

“You've been gone—”

“I've been right here—”

“No! You haven't!”

Sevika's voice rings out through the cave, dancing and bouncing off the stone walls. You realize in this moment that you've been holding your breath as you listen, your hands clinging to the sheets next to you.

There's a pregnant pause and you can hear Sevika take a deep breath in, gathering herself before she lowers her voice. You have to strain your ears to hear her.

“Ever since you fired her, your mind has been elsewhere.”

Your throat bobs.

“I don't know what happened between you two—and I don't want to know—but whatever it is, you need to sort it out. And fast. Before you drag us all down with you.”

You can sense Silco's agitation in the way his breaths come whistling out his nostrils, as if his lips are pinched into a tight line. When he doesn't speak, his second-in-command continues, her voice hushed but a fire in every syllable.

“Finn is gone; we saw to that. And now, it's time for you to make good on a promise you made me years ago.”

You can hear a subtle sound of metal on metal and suspect Sevika is rolling out her chemtech arm. When she speaks, her voice is low and gruff.

“An Independent Zaun.”

A pause.

There's nothing but the sound of bubbles in the various tanks throughout the lab. That and the occasional sound of tinkling glass as Singed works somewhere within the stone walls. Tentatively, you open your eyes. Your back to the pair, all you can see are their shadows ahead of you, their forms illuminated by the soft green light from the various tanks. You watch, attempting to read their body language as much as their hazy silhouettes along the cave wall will allow.

“Silco.” There's a warmth in Sevika's voice. The same you had witnessed when she was at your apartment. “You said yourself: the longer we wait, the more—”

“I know what I said,” he snarls back. 

Then, the sound of booted footsteps as he walks toward your bed, his shadow growing larger in front of you. Quickly, you shut your eyes, pretending to sleep. 

You can feel his presence and sense that he’s standing behind you, hovering. You keep your eyes shut, straining to not move a single muscle.

When Silco speaks, there’s a heaviness to each word; his tone informed by years of battles won and lost.

“There is no reason to leap into the next fray until after we've recovered from this one.”

More footsteps. They don’t quite reach your bed, Sevika standing somewhere between the entrance to Singed’s quarters and Silco.

“How long?” she calls to him.

A pause.

“How long do you need to lick your wounds?” She clarifies. “Topside’s not going to wait for us to be ready.” Creaking of leather as Sevika shifts her weight. “In fact, I heard as soon as two weeks from now, they’re meeting to decide our fate.”

The silence that stretches out is stifling. It goes on for so long, you wonder if Sevika has already left. But then, there's shuffling followed by Sevika's voice, all the bite behind her words gone, replaced with quiet sincerity.

“I am glad she's okay.”

Another pause.

Then, an equally quiet, equally sincere:

“Me too.”

Your hands tighten their grip on the sheets, your lips pressed together.

Silence falls on the cave again. After a few quiet moments, you hear Sevika’s echoed footsteps as she exits the lab. Silco remains at your bedside, deathly still.

You’re about to turn over, pretend like you had just woken up. But then Silco’s voice cuts through the quiet, just barely above a whisper.

“I can’t do it.” 

A pause.

“Not yet.”

A long, shaky inhale followed by a broken exhale.

“Not without her.”

You awaken on your back and are surprised to feel no pain as you do so. There's a lingering ache, but the sharp pain that shot through you before has diminished.

There's something on your chest on top of your bandaging. By no means heavy, it's small and strangely comforting. When finally you open your heavy eyelids, you're greeted with something purple and tentacled.

“Ah!” 

You bolt up, hands quick to shove the thing away from you. As soon as you do, you hear cackling coming from beside you. Turning, you see one blue-haired menace.

“Jinx!”

She continues to wheeze and howl at your expense, holding her stomach as she no doubt succumbs to stitches in her side, slapping her knee all the while.

When finally she gets up from the stool, she wipes a tear away from her eye as she walks to the foot of your bed where you had thrown her octopus plush.

“What did Ms. Inky ever do to you?” She admonishes as she delicately lifts the purple plush by two of its soft tentacles, dancing it toward you like a marionette on a string. The longer you look at the stuffed animal, the more you start to remember. Slowly, your mind pieces together memories from before your run-in with Finn’s crew.

“A lot, actually,” you reply with a laugh. “You know this by now.”

“I do,” she says with a cheeky smile.

“What are you two going on about?”

Your head whips around at the familiar voice and you immediately wince as a now familiar sharp pain shoots through your back. By the grace of Janna, the pain leaves just as quickly as it came.

No sudden movements. Got it.

“Nothing!” You and Jinx answer Silco in unison. When his attention is elsewhere, you both share a knowing look and a silent giggle.

Jinx continues to hold up the plush in front of you, jostling it with each little dance of her hands. Laughing, you reach out for it. Jinx sits at the foot of your bed cross-legged while her father takes her old spot on the stool next to you.

“I guess I can't stay mad at Ms. Inky. She saved my life after all,” you say, one finger tracing the stitching over the space where its missing limb used to be. “Even if she did try to kill me first.”

You can feel the heat of Silco's gaze on you and turn to find furrowed eyebrows, one dark while the other is slightly smeared. You can tell from glancing at his face that his makeup job was rushed whenever he had last applied it; you can see small traces of his scarring beneath the foundation, peeking through like sunlight through a thick forest.

“What are you talking about?” he asks, tone neutral.

Your hands fidget with the soft plush, fingers expelling the sudden nervous energy within you. You just know Silco won't approve of the way you had gone about finding his cure, but you also don't want to lie to him.

“Singed managed to replicate my formula, right?”

“Correct.”

“And… you know all the ingredients for it…”

“Yes.”

“Well…” You chew the inside of your mouth. “How do you think I got that in the first place?”

His good eye narrows; it's such a small movement that you almost miss it. 

“Jericho's.”

You shake your head.

His eye narrows further, suspicion on his face but it's clear that he's not putting the pieces together.

“When I needed to make more cure, I sourced from Jericho's… but what led me to the creature in the first place was…”

You watch as it finally clicks, realization spreading across his face.

“You did not.”

You hum, nodding your head.

“Do not tell me…” he leans forward, bringing his elbows to his knees while his thumb and forefinger pinch the bridge of his nose. “You went into the river to get its blood.”

“I didn't! I mean… I did,” you correct yourself. “But I didn't go in the river with the intention of getting its blood.”

He shoots you a look and you stumble through an explanation, more and more of your memory clearing up as you speak.

“So Singed gave me a couple bags of your blood, right? So I could test and research it to find your cure. But it wasn't enough and I knew I needed a sample of the toxins that did this to you, so I went in to get a few vial's worth. But—” you let out a nervous chuckle, looking down at Ms. Inky in your hands. “But I got pulled under by the big octopus creature.”

When you work the nerve up to look Silco in the face, you're surprised to see his good eye widened. Not in anger or surprise, but fear.

“Yeah, I… it grabbed me by the leg. I managed to get away after cutting off its tentacle. On a whim, I took it home. And, what do ya know, its blood held the key to our cure.”

Jinx sits uncharacteristically silent at the foot of the bed, content to watch the conversation unfold, blue eyes darting between you and Silco.

“... When you say ‘our cure’...” His voice is low, a deep rumble.

Your throat bobs.

“I mean…” you look up at Jinx. She offers you the smallest of nods. 

No use keeping it from him.

“I mean I already needed the cure before the greenhouse.” You wet your lips. “When I got pulled under, the toxins got in my eyes. I umm… I almost went blind.”

His eyes lock with yours, a look of almost panic written into his features: the inward curl of his eyebrows, the slight part of his lips. But then, he seems to look through you, his eyes unfocusing as if watching some other scene play out in his mind. Finally, his good eye flutters closed, a sigh at his lips.

“That's why you couldn't see me,” he whispers.

Now it's your turn to be confused.

“What?”

But he elaborates no further, leaving you in the dark as he shakes his head.

“You just can’t help yourself, can you?” There’s an airiness to his voice, like he’s laughing at a joke only he understands. “Always finding trouble.”

You chuckle. “I think in this case, trouble most certainly found me.”

He hums at that, eyes never leaving you. His expression is unreadable, but you can’t help but notice there’s a hint of something behind his gaze. A sadness. Is it guilt?

But then he’s turning away from you and addressing his daughter.

“Jinx, fetch her things. She'll be returning home today.”

Jinx leaps off the bed. There's the sound of rustling and clanging as she throws things into a large black bag.

“I am?” You straighten up.

He hums.

“The doctor says you're safe to return home. Your stitches will dissolve in about a week. In the meantime, you'll need someone to redress your bandaging every two days.”

“I can do it!” Jinx pipes up as she plops the bag onto the foot of your bed.

Silco offers her a soft smile.

“It seems we have a volunteer.”

“Oh! Wait!” Jinx buries her nose in the bag as her painted fingertips shove things around. “I brought you a shirt since yours got all ruined and junk.” 

She pulls out a large oversized shirt, tan in color. Your eyebrows furrow and you blink, staring at it.

“One of Vander’s…” she mutters in explanation. 

“Oh…”

You lock eyes briefly with Silco and his gaze darts away. Meanwhile, Jinx is scrunching up the fabric, ready to pull it over your head.

“Here, lemme help.”

Maneuvering with your entire torso bandaged proves awkward, but with Jinx’s assistance, you manage to get the shirt on. You’re absolutely swimming in it; it hangs off one of your shoulders and you’re almost certain it’ll reach your thighs when you stand up. But the fabric is soft, softer than the sheets you sit under.

Jinx helps you with your boots before hopping onto the bed, sitting next to you.

“So!” she exclaims, “when are you coming back to work?”

“Jinx!” You and Silco cry out in unison. 

“Whaaaat?” She whines. “You two keep tiptoeing around it, I thought I’d nudge you in the right direction.” 

You and Silco share another look and this time you’re the one to break it off first. You chew on the inside of your mouth, heart too full of irreconcilable, inexplicable feelings tied to conflicting—yet incomplete—memories. 

Azure eyes dart back and forth between you and Silco, waiting for an answer. When one doesn’t come, she crosses her arms, letting out an exasperated huff through pouting lips, blowing the long blue fringe of her hair that’s draped over her face.

“I still don’t understand why you were fired in the first place,” she mutters.

“Jinx…” Silco warns.

She rolls her eyes.

Silco rises to his feet, plucking the bag by its strap from the edge of the bed and holding it up silently in instruction to his daughter. She lets out a groan and puts both her hands out, a soft grunt leaving her as her father drops the bag into her arms.

“Bring that to Dax. We’ll be up soon.”

“Okay…” she groans, hoisting the bag over her shoulder. She’s about to start for the cave’s exit when she turns back around and wraps her arms around your shoulders. Immediately, you melt into the embrace.

“Welcome back,” she whispers.

You feel a slight sting behind your eyes.

“Thank you.”

Jinx hops away, leaving just you and Silco in Singed’s quarters.

Silco stands with his hand outstretched in offering. Tentatively, you take it and—very slowly and very carefully—start to lower yourself off the bed.

You pitch forward when your boots touch the stone floor, your legs giving out almost immediately. Silco is quick to catch you, his hands grabbing your upper arms to hold you steady just as yours reach out to cling to the lapel of his coat. When you lift your chin, you’re surprised to find Silco’s face mere inches from yours, your breaths mixing in the middle. Eyes dart between cooling green and warming orange irises. Your throat bobs.

“Thanks.”

He straightens up and you follow.

“Of course.”

The two of you stand like that for a moment, still clinging to each other. There’s a familiarity to it, but you get this nagging feeling at the back of your head that you’ve forgotten something.

“I…” You wet your lips. “I don’t remember much of what happened with Finn, even after you told me.”

“That’s perfectly normal,” he hums.

“But that’s not all…” you say, more to yourself than to him. “I feel like…” you close your eyes, pinching your eyebrows together as you try to will the memories back. “I feel like I should be… mad at you?” You shake your head, as if it’ll knock the memories loose. “But I don’t remember why.”

When you open your eyes, you’re met with a stunned expression.

“You don’t… remember.”

You shake your head again.

“I vaguely remember being fired, but I don’t remember how it happened.”

Silco loosens his grip on your arms. You pull back, too.

“Do you remember why you were fired?”

You scrunch your face up as you try to think. “Kind of? Something with… the Hextech?”

His lips press into a thin line.

“Perhaps,” he starts, “it’s best if you try not to think of that right now. Focus on getting better. We can discuss your employment at a later date.”

After a moment, you nod.

Arm outstretched, he gestures toward the front of the cave. The climb up to the street level proves difficult on your wobbly legs, but Silco guides you the entire way, one arm barred around your shoulders to keep you from falling backward while the other holds your hand steady.

A black carriage awaits you on the street, Dax in the driver seat. You feel a strange sense like you had been here before when you climb in. As you scoot toward the middle of the seat, you notice a reddened stain on the carpet.

Is that my blood?

Silco climbs in after you, closing the door behind him.

Or Silco’s?

The car ride to your apartment passes in silence. You watch as the Undercity whizzes past your window, on occasion you steal glances at the man next to you. Only his unmarred side is visible as he stares straight ahead, expression unreadable. 

The carriage slows to a halt. After opening the door and stepping out, Silco turns to you, hand outstretched in offering.

“Oh, thanks,” you mutter under your breath as you take his hand and allow yourself to be guided out the car.

“Wait here,” Silco instructs Dax before making his way toward the back of the carriage, popping the trunk, and pulling out your bag.

“Oh, Silco, you don’t have to do that—”

“Doctor’s orders. You’re not to lift anything until your sutures have dissolved.”

You let out a sigh.

“Okay.”

When you get to your door, you realize you don’t have your satchel on you. Stepping aside, you watch as Silco pulls your keys out of his pocket.

“The contents of your satchel—as well as the now ruined satchel itself—are in this bag,” he explains as he unlocks and then opens the door. 

“Oh, right,” you mutter to yourself. 

Silco had told you about the warehouse, how your bag had been torn to shreds in the ensuing gunfire. You feel a slight pang in your chest, knowing it’s forever ruined.

My mom left me that bag…

Taking a step back, Silco offers you your keys. You realize at this moment that Silco has never been inside your apartment. You cross the threshold as you chew your bottom lip, preparing for the worst.

Your eyes widen when you take in the sight of your living room. Someone had cleaned it in your absence. Your blanket neatly folded on the couch, all the trash and bottles you had accumulated during your sleepless nights of work thrown away, even the dirty dishes in the sink are nowhere to be found, presumably cleaned and put away.

Silco follows you inside, setting the bag of supplies down next to the couch. You turn to him, surprised.

“Was this you?” You ask, unable to hide your smile.

“I’m afraid I cannot take credit for this,” he says. 

You walk into your kitchen, marveling at the pristine countertops as Silco follows you.

“In my defense, I never left your bedside.”

You laugh.

“I wasn’t going to complain, Silco.”

He shifts, bringing his hands to clasp behind his back. “I must apologize, however.”

You turn to him, confused.

“I may have… borrowed your key out of what was left of your bag to allow them to do this.”

Your eyebrows lift and you cross your arms.

“I put it right back,” he adds defensively.

You roll your eyes, taking in the sight of your spotless kitchen. Then, you see something on the fridge that wasn’t there before and realize someone had left a note. The handwriting looks unfamiliar. Plucking the paper from underneath a magnet, you read.

This food should last you a couple of days. It’s not Jericho’s, but it’s the best I could do.

— Zane

P.S Not judging, but I also cleaned a little.Maybe don’t let it get this bad againif you don’t want rats.

You feel a tinge of embarrassment, knowing Zane had seen your depression-fueled mess. But the embarrassment is quickly overridden by the warmth that settles in your chest, overwhelming and unexpected. 

What did I ever do to deserve a colleague like this?

When you turn back to Silco, you see he’s pointedly avoiding your gaze. 

“I feel as if… I should have done more,” he says softly, a hint of regret in his voice. 

"No, Silco, it's fine. You’ve already done plenty.”

Silence stretches between you.

With so many blank spaces in your memory, it’s impossible to tell where you and Silco stand. After a few minutes of internal wrestling, you put your hand out toward him.

“Thank you.”

He takes your hand and gives it one good shake.

“Thank you. With your cure, maybe I’ll get to see an independent Zaun in my lifetime after all.”

He releases your hand and you feel as if he’s taken a part of you with him as he does. 

Why does this feel like goodbye?

Ocean green and volcanic orange eyes hold your gaze as scarred lips tug upward into a soft smile, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. There’s something else behind his two-toned look, a deep sadness that sends an arrow to your chest.

Then, wordlessly, he starts for the door. He’s a few steps away from it when he pauses. You watch as he reaches into the lining of his coat pocket before placing a small white envelope onto your kitchen island. Turning over his shoulder, he addresses you.

“Perhaps this will jog your memory.”

Your eyebrows furrow. Before you have a chance to question him, he’s walking out the door.

Your eyes dart back and forth between the closed door and the envelope. You’re half tempted to run after him, but the curiosity of the contents of that envelope is too strong. Finally, you tear the seal off, hands shaking all the while. 

In it is a letter in Silco’s pristine, slanted handwriting. Your eyes dart back and forth as you take in every word, your eyebrows curling inward with each line. As you read, images fill your mind, scenes you had forgotten resurfacing.

By the time you reach the end of the letter, a tear falls from your eye to land on the kitchen tile. Mouth agape, you blink as you take in everything you just read, as you’re left to process all the memories that came rushing back to you like a torrential flood.

That night in Silco’s office, his eyes boring into you.

His hands as they trail down your face over your neck.

But then—

Silco’s voice.

Hushed and broken. 

"It's me. I'm the one who should be sorry."

Pleading with you. 

"Stay with me."

Pleading with the gods.

“Kindred, please… not yet.”

And not only that—

“And if you'll forgive a foolish, old man… you have me.”

The letter falls to the ground as your feet lift off, carrying you forward to sprint out your apartment door. Ignoring the tightness in your chest, you throw yourself down the stairs two steps at a time before putting all your weight into the door that’ll take you to the street. Eyes wide, heart racing, lungs burning, you scan for the black carriage that had taken you home.

“Silco!” You yell out as you start to race toward the vehicle that is driving away, getting smaller and smaller by the second. “Silco! Wait—”

Your words are cut short by the wheezing cough that rips through you. You double over, pain tearing through your throat as you continue to cough. One hand clutching your chest as the other clings to your knee, your eyes squeeze shut.

Fuck! I’m still recovering.

You hang your head.

Straightening up, you try to catch your breath. Bringing your hands behind your head, face turned up to the heavens, you take a deep inhale through your mouth, trying to get as much air as you can into your lungs before pushing it out. The breath comes out ragged, but you start to feel a little better. After doing that a few more times, you lower your chin and open your eyes.

To see a black carriage pulling up in front of you.

The back window lowers, revealing Silco.

“What were you thinking?” he asks with furrowed eyebrows. “I saw what you just did; you’ll rip open your—”

Hands reach through the window, grabbing Silco by the lapel. His good eye widens as you pull him forward before crashing your lips into his. He makes a small startled sound as you press your mouth to his, your eyes squeezed shut. After a stunned second, his hands come up to cradle your face as he returns the kiss in kind. 

You cling to his coat, certain that if you let go, your feet will leave the ground and you’ll never be able to come back down. When finally you both part, Silco considers you with a shocked expression, eyes wide, lips parted.

“What are you—”

“I remember, Silco.”

He stares at you.

“I remember everything.” 

You feel out of breath again. You don’t know if it’s from your brief sprint, the kiss, the flood of emotions that’s coursing through your system, or the adrenaline. 

Or perhaps all of the above.

He continues to stare at you wordlessly. Then, his expression shifts, eyes darting to either side of you as he grabs the door handle. You take a step back as he opens the door, his hand quick to find yours, wrapping his long fingers around your wrist. The carriage door slams behind him as he quickly tugs you along, staccato footsteps on the pavement as he leads you back to your apartment. You’ve no choice but to be pulled along. When finally you find yourself back inside your apartment, you close the door behind you. 

You watch as Silco crouches down, picking up his letter from the floor. He straightens up, standing with his back to you, only the marred side of his face visible as he looks at you over his shoulder.

“You remember everything?”

You nod, taking a step toward him. “Yes.”

His abyss eye casts down to the floor, the hand not holding the letter curled into a fist.

“Then…” He pinches his lips together, eyebrows curling inward. “Why did you kiss me?”

The orange iris of his ruined eye lifts back up to your face, but he still doesn’t bring himself to turn fully toward you. He shakes the letter in his hand.

“After what I did to you?”

You take another step, as if approaching a cornered animal. Tentatively, you lift your hand, reaching for his. You wet your lips and take a steadying breath, before wrapping your fingers around his closed fist. You feel his muscles twitch at the contact, but he remains still.

“I remember what you did to me,” you say, voice barely above a whisper. “But—more than that—I remember what you did for me.”

That gets his attention.

He turns over his shoulder a fraction, just enough for you to see the rest of his face. Softly, you continue.

“I heard everything. Everything you said when I was asleep. I…” You let out a nervous laugh. “I thought maybe it was just a dream. That I had hallucinated it while I was unconscious. But after reading your letter, I know it was real.”

His fist relaxes, but the rest of him stays frozen to the spot.

“I heard your apology. I heard your encouragement, your praise, your prayers. You…” You feel a sting forming behind your eyes and a lump growing in your throat. “You guided me home.”

Silco turns around.

With the ways his shoulders hunch forward, you’ve never seen him look so small. He adjusts his hand to hold yours. You reach out for his other hand and he takes it, the letter falling back down to the floor between you. As you stare into his eyes, you’re met with the most broken expression you’ve ever seen on the man.

“I thought I lost you,” he whispers.

You let out a small puff of air out your nostrils.

“In more ways than one, you almost did.”

The pair of you stand like this for a few moments, simply staring into each other’s eyes as your hands are intertwined between you.

“Is it true?” you finally break the silence. “You can’t see a life in Zaun without me?”

He presses his lips together. And maybe it’s just a trick of the light, but you could swear you almost see his throat bob.

“Yes.” He nods his head. “It’s true.”

“So…” You pull your lips through your teeth. “What you said after Sevika left…”

His good eye flutters closed as he lets out a short chuckle.

“You heard that?”

You shrug. “Like I said: I heard ‘everything.’”

He opens his good eye, his gaze on your interlocked hands. His thumb rubs a tender line back and forth on your hand. His eyebrows lift a little as he takes a deep breath in through his mouth. When he lets it out, you can feel it brush over your skin.

“That, too, is true.” He lifts his eyes up to yours. “I cannot march on Piltover if it’s without you. If you’re not by my side.” 

He wets his lips with his tongue, uncharacteristically unsure.

“The truth is…”

His eyes cast to the side, unable to meet your gaze. For once, you’re content to just listen, your mouth sealed shut as you wait.

“I left something out of that letter.”

His eyes flick down to the folded paper on the hardwood before slowly, painstakingly, lifting back up to your eyes.

“I…”

His throat bobs, his eyebrows pinch together. When he speaks, there’s a subtle uncertainty to his voice, like he’s never said it before and doesn’t know if he’s pronouncing it correctly. 

“I love you.”

Your eyes widen, your heart stopping in its tracks. You feel as if all the air has left your lungs as you stare into Silco’s two-toned eyes, searching them for any trace of sarcasm or jest. When you find none, you blink, unable to keep your mouth from hanging open.

Perhaps you misheard him.

Surely, he said something else.

Finally, you find your voice.

“You what? Are you sure?”

He lets out a soft chuckle, a small smile tugging at his scarred lips.

“I’m sorry,” he says, shaking his head. “I know I didn’t exactly say it with the most confiden—”

“No. I mean— Why?”

His head tilts.

“Are you asking why I love you?”

Hearing him say the phrase again jumpstarts your heart. Where once it had stopped entirely, now it beats too quickly. All at once, you feel dizzy. 

Silco’s eyes dart back and forth between yours, quick to catch the way your eyelids start to flutter. In an instant, his arms wrap around you as your body pitches forward, your face pressing into his shoulder as your limbs fall slack.

Somehow, by the grace of Janna, you remain conscious enough to mutter out apologies.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry—”

He chuckles above you, quick to scoop you up in his arms and carry you to the couch. He gently places you down on it, crouching down next to you. His hand comes up to tuck a stray tendril of hair behind your ear.

“You’re like one of those fainting poros,” he jokes.

You laugh, swatting your hand at him.

“It’s your fault; I’m still recovering. You can’t be dropping bombs on me like that.”

“You must have me confused with my daughter. I don’t drop bombs,” he quips.

“No, you just give injured women heart attacks.”

His lips curl into a smile and he laughs.

Not a chuckle. Not a snicker.

Not a short bark or a startled reflex.

Not the sadistic, sinister laugh you heard at the warehouse.

It’s warm and rich, complex and beautiful. It’s so unmistakably Silco that it makes your heart sing. You’ve never heard a more perfect sound. And if that wasn’t enough, there’s a glow in his eyes unlike you’ve ever seen.

It’s all too much.

Too much for your exhausted body.

Too much whiplash for what had been your broken heart.

Unbidden, tears start to run down your cheeks.

It wipes the glee clean off Silco’s face. Quickly, his hands reach out, crading your jawline as his thumbs swipe away your tears.

“I’m sorry. I should not have laughed.”

“No, it’s not that,” you whimper pathetically. “I missed you. I missed this.”

Silco’s lips pinch into a line, a now familiar look of guilt on his face.

You sniffle your nose, unable to keep the tears from flowing.

“All I wanted was for you to apologize and for us to go back to how we were. I know we both fucked up, but I wasn’t ready for it to be the end.”

He nods in agreement, his throat bobbing as his good eye flutters closed.

“It’s my fault.” His voice comes out ragged, like the words are tearing themselves past his throat. “I acted rashly. I cast you aside not once but twice.”

When he opens his good eye, you can see the unmistakable warning signs of a tear forming on the ocean green surface.

“I sent you home after making you read that letter because…”

His hands at your face shift, his shoulders come up in a small shrug.

“I didn’t know what to do.”

He takes in one steadying breath through his nose.

“I’ve made my living as the man in the shadows, doing my work from the dark. I grew accustomed to everyone keeping their distance from me.” He chuckles. “With the sole exception of Jinx.”

He shakes his head, laughing to himself.

“So you’ll have to forgive me. Your declaration of love caught me completely off guard.”

You sniffle your nose and lift your eyebrows.

“Are you saying I managed to disarm the Eye of Zaun?”

He leans forward, nodding his head. One of his hands tangles into your hair as he brings his forehead to rest on yours.

“Yes,” he whispers into the small space between you, that one tear in his ocean green eye falling to land on his unmarred cheek. “You absolutely did.”

And then he’s capturing your lips in a kiss, more tender than you’ve ever known. Without missing a beat, you wrap your arms around his shoulders, pulling him closer as you let your eyes flutter closed, surrendering yourself to his touch. It’s warm and familiar and home.

It’s not long until the familiar sensation of his mouth on yours awakens a deep need in you, a heat pooling in your belly.

You start to straighten up on the couch, still connected to Silco at the lips. He follows your movements, crouching over you as his tongue teases the part of your mouth. You readily accept his request, allowing him to roll his tongue over yours as you start to get to your feet and—

“Ah! Fuck!”

You break off this kiss and fall back to the couch as pain surges through your back in a flash. The sensation only lasts for a few brief seconds, but it’s enough to have you gasping for air.

“Perhaps that’s…” Silco moves to sit next to you, “Enough excitement for one day.”

You nod, energy completely drained from you.

Silco puts his hand out on his lap, his palm turned up to the ceiling, fingers spread in invitation. You lace your fingers through his before letting your head flop onto his shoulder. He chuckles softly under his breath, squeezing your hand.

“Take some time,” he hums. “Take the week to recover. If Singed is correct, you should be good as new in just a few days.”

Your eyes flutter closed, exhaustion overtaking you.

“I can’t…” you hum. “I have to give notice to Thalia…”

“Who’s Thalia?” he asks gently.

“My boss.”

You don’t have to see his face to know that his good eyebrow is ticking upwards in curiosity. You don’t wait for his question before answering.

“I got a job at a tailor shop.”

He hums.

“I thought you said you were ‘useless with thread and needle.’” 

You internally roll your eyes.

“I mostly swept and did inventory.”

You sit like that for a few moments, content to stay in each other’s company again. After a while—and still much too soon—Silco rises to his feet. You mirror his movements, looking up at him.

“I know that Jinx already offered to help you with your bandaging, but if you want… I could—”

“No, Silco, don’t. You’re so busy,” you insist. “Please, don’t worry about me.”

“That’s impossible,” he says dryly, but you can hear the hint of humor behind his voice.

“You have so much on your plate with Piltover. You really don’t have to waste your time with—”

“I want to,” he says, voice firm. “Take it as my penance for all my wrongdoing.”

You stare into his ocean green and volcanic eyes to see a profound sincerity. As if he’s pleading with his eyes.

Let me make it up to you.

Let me prove myself to you.

Finally, you nod.

“But only if it wouldn’t interfere with all your work.”

“Of course.” He smiles. “I can spare an hour every couple days for my brilliant scientist.”

You smile back to him.

“I’m not yours just yet,” you jest. 

He looks back at you stunned, not in on the joke. 

“I have to finish out my work for Thalia first,” you clarify.

Realization dons on his face and you see his shoulders relax.

“So,” he starts, “am I to assume you're accepting my offer?”

You reply by smiling and nodding to him.

“And… the conditions?” he asks, voice unsure.

You pinch your lips together, shaking your head. 

“Those shouldn't be necessary.”

His shoulders relax further, like a heavy weight had been lifted off them.

You walk him to the front door, arms wrapped around your middle. 

“Get some rest,” he says in the doorway. “I’ll be back in two days to do your bandages.”

You nod and smile at him.

“See you then.”

He starts to leave but pauses, turning back around to kiss you softly on your cheek. It sends warmth to your face, a quiet flutter of firelights beating behind your ribs.

“Two days,” he repeats.

“Two days,” you echo.

He turns, heading down the hallway. You close the door behind him, letting out a soft sigh.

Just as you’re about to retreat to your bedroom, there’s a knock at the door. Your eyebrows furrow and you make a face when you find Silco standing at your doorway again.

“You miss me that much?” you tease.

“Yes and no,” he replies, grinning. “This tailor shop you work at. Where is it?”

You cross your arms.

“Why? If you’re thinking of doing something to Thalia—”

“I’m hurt,” he pouts. “Wounded even.”

“Then why do you want to know?”

He crosses his arms, mirroring you.

“Do you trust me?”

It takes you a moment to respond. 

After everything the two of you have been through, after everything he had done specifically to you, could you trust him again?

It’s a question you’ve asked yourself countless times.

And call it naivete, or idealism, or plain stupidity.

But, deep within your heart, behind the cage of your ribs, buried under years of hurt, there’s a small part of you that clings to hope. 

And second chances.

You nod.

He smiles, waiting.

“Oh, right,” you recover, remembering his question. You use your hand to point to the space behind him. “You just go down this street and it’s the fourth shop on the right. You can’t miss it.”

“Thank you,” he says softly, bringing one hand up to stroke your cheek, as if he needed to check you were real one last time before leaving. He says your name gently before adding a soft “good night.”

“Good night, Silco.”

My brilliant scientist,

There is nothing I can say to undo the hurt I caused you. The pain I inflicted upon you with my own two hands. For all my influence, all my power, I cannot turn back time. No matter how much I wish to. The only thing I can do is accept the consequences of my actions and move forward.

But I can't.

I'm stuck in a loop of my own making, playing the same scene over and over again. Asking myself: Why? Why did I do that to you?

No answer suffices. The truth is: what I did to you was inexcusable. Unforgivable.

No matter the perceived slight you may have made against me, it pales to the monstrous sin I committed against you. By allowing my emotions to get the better of me, I became a mirror to your demons. Demons that you had entrusted to me. Demons that had plagued you long before me. And now I am just another nightmare for you to overcome.

For that, I am deeply sorry.

That night, I did two things: I nearly took your life and I fired you. One cannot ever be taken back, but the other I do have the power to rectify. 

It is a meager consolation, a pathetic offering. One I do not suspect you will readily take. 

But, if you wish to return, you would have a place waiting for you in Singed’s lab. You would answer only to him. You would never have to see or speak to me, if that is what you desire. If that is what it takes to ensure your peace of mind.

I almost took your life. The least I can do is offer you back your livelihood.

Yours, if you’ll have me,

Silco

Stay tuned for Chapter 28! The final chapter!

A/N: You didn't think I'd leave you hanging and not show you his letter, did you? ALSO HE SAID IT. HE SAID IT AND THEY RECONCILED. T^T But we still have one more chapter???

As we reach the very end of this fic, I cannot thank you enough for all your support. The comments and reblogs keep me going and I could not have made it this far without all my amazing, loyal readers. Thank you so much. I promise I read every comment and they all bring such warmth to my heart. Truly. Thank you.

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Not you posting this just as I forced myself to study for an upcoming exam...

I was so giddy to read this, I keot putting it further and further away, because I had things to do, but I couldn't stop the anticipation in me.

And oh my god, I loved this so much. My eyes sting as well now, good lord. The reader's thoughts are something I am very very familiar with, as well as the lack of motivation to even seem ok enough to communicate properly with anyone. The doubt of deserving Silco's affection hit especially hard.

And the way he is firm in his gentle words and affirmations? Telling the reader the awful thoughts produced by their mind are just lies, leaving no room for discussion? The way he does so much to help with so little words and few actions? The little teasing jokes towards the end, the way he doesn't hesitate to keep them close at their worst? Now I'm just making myself emotional thinking about it, fucking hell.

I loved this. And I can jever thank you enough for this, I never would have expected you to post this the same day I sent in the ask. But thank you, so much. You have no idea how much it helped. I really needed something like this.

Hiiiii! I absolutely love your work (as you may have noticed, but idk if I was vocal enough about it 🤔).

I saw you were answering asks with scenarios with Silco and I was thinking...I've been kind of down in the dumps lately and I'm really interested in your take how Silco would confort his s/o in such a situation. I live for hurt/comfort and it helps me tremendously and I feel like there is a criminak lack of such fics with Silco, but if you don't feel inspired, that's completely ok! Again, I really love everything you write, have a great day!

Thank you, Robin, for the request! And thank you for all your kind words today in my DMs. My heart is overflowing with all the love and support I've received today.

To be loved

AO3 link

Word count: 1.8k

Beta reader: none

Tags: Silco x gn!reader, soft Silco, established relationship, depression, fluff, hurt/comfort, emotional hurt/comfort, angst, angsty with a happy ending

One more bad day after a series of bad days leaves you feeling numb and dejected. Getting out of bed seems an impossible task. But thankfully, your partner Silco knows exactly what you need to get you out of your funk.

You lay in bed, staring at the clock on your nightstand. You’ve been awake for almost an hour, but haven’t worked up the nerve to get out from underneath the covers. The long nights and cold temperatures have been doing a number on your mood, making it harder and harder for you to find the will to do anything.

Your partner stirs behind you, lifting the sheets off himself as he gets out of bed before gently placing them back down to start his routine. The man is a machine; awake and up, ready to start the day without so much as a stretch or a yawn. More and more, you find yourself growing envious of his ability to get going so easily while your mood continues to plummet with each passing week.

Silco makes his way around the bed. On his way to the bathroom, he crosses your line of vision just as a sigh pushes its way out of your mouth. He pauses, turning to find you awake.

“Morning,” he hums.

“Mmm,” you hum back noncommittally. 

Immediately, his brow furrows and concern paints his features. He moves to sit next to you, a hand draped gently over your shoulder.

“Everything okay, love?”

His voice is so soft. 

Why is it so soft? And for whom? You?

You bury your head in your pillow, hiding your face, feeling undeserving of the gentleness Silco has shown—and continues to show—you.

His thumb rubs a tender line along your arm. When he speaks, his voice is filled with understanding, a familiarity that only comes from knowing someone deeply—intimately—for a long time.

“Another down day?”

You nod your head, face still buried in the pillow.

He shifts on the bed to get closer to you, bringing his hand up to your head. Long fingers work themselves into your hair, pads of his fingers gently massaging your scalp in small circles.

“Do you want your usual?”

You turn your head, one eye looking at him through your periphery before meekly whispering into the pillow, “Yes, please.”

He continues to stroke your hair, looking at you with those beautiful mismatched eyes.

“Can you wait a moment while I get ready?”

You offer the smallest of nods. He offers you the softest of smiles.

“Okay.” He leans down, bringing his lips to the crown of your head before speaking into your hair. “I won’t be long.”

The mattress squeaks as his weight leaves it. You bury your face into the pillow again and listen to the sound of the bathroom door opening then closing. As Silco starts to take a shower, you turn to face his side of the bed, scooting into the middle to chase the remnants of warmth he had left in his stead.

Has it always been this hard?

You curl in on yourself, pulling the sheets around you like a cocoon. As if it will envelope and surround you, as if it could protect you from everything. 

Could everything just… please… slow down?

If the world could just pause, give you a chance to catch up. If time could still so you could get your bearings. It would be so nice.

But living in Runeterra—and especially in the Undercity—doesn’t afford anyone that luxury. It’s always go, go, go. Don’t stop. Don’t slow down. Don’t look back. Just keep moving forward.

It’s exhausting.

You don’t know how long you lay in bed as Silco finishes his shower, your thoughts crawling along as if wading through drying cement. You briefly drift back to sleep for a bit before the sound of the bedroom door opening stirs you from your restless slumber. When you turn to the source of the sound, you find Silco—makeup done, hair styled, and neatly dressed as usual—standing in the doorway holding a tray.

“Here,” he says before making his way to you.

With a grunt, you sit up just as Silco places the tray over your lap, the small wooden legs on either side of you. On it is a mug of hot tea and a plate of leftover Poro Snax from the night before. 

“Thank you,” you whisper, taking the mug and cradling it in your hands, bringing it up so that the warmth from the tea kisses your face. You take a sip and hum in approval, the honey a welcomed sweetness on your tongue. And sweeter still is Silco, moving to sit next to you, one arm wrapping around your shoulders to pull you to himself.

“Take as long as you need,” he whispers, squeezing your shoulder. “And if that means all day, that’s fine, too.”

You set the mug down and give Silco a tired smile, but it doesn’t quite reach your eyes. Still, it’s the most you can offer him in your current state. He leans down and kisses your forehead before cradling your jawline with his hand. 

“I’ll be right through there—” his eyes flick to the office door and back, “if you need anything.”

You nod but can’t help the long sigh that escapes through your nose.

Eyes cast down to the tray below you, your vision blurry as your eyes unfocus. Your eyes flutter closed as you try—you really do try—to get a grip.

But it’s too hard.

Everything’s too hard.

Just being is too hard right now.

You sit like this for a moment, stuck in time. Feeling too much and not enough all at once. Feeling like you’re spiraling out of control and yet unable to move. Then—

Silco shifts beside you, taking the pillow from behind you and tossing it to his side of the bed before taking its place. Long legs come around your hips as he slots himself behind you, his chest pressed into your back as his arms move to wrap around your middle in an embrace.

Ruined cheek pressed to your temple, you can hear his soft breaths in your ear, feel his steady heartbeat against your back. You melt into the touch, sagging into the mattress and him as you cross your arms over his, fingers quick to find his and lace together.

“I love you,” he hums into your hair. “Good day. Bad day. I will always love you.” He gently squeezes your middle. “You know that, right?”

You take in a deep breath and feel a familiar sting behind your eyes. Throat bobbing, you nod once.

“This is just a moment in time,” he whispers, bringing his chin up to rest on your head. “It will pass. Like it always does.”

He leans to the side to better look into your face. You turn toward him, feeling on the verge of tears; a strange mixture of despair and relief welling within you. As you look into the sincere eyes of your partner, you wonder how you ever got so lucky.

To be loved.

And not just by anyone, but by Silco.

“You’re strong,” he whispers into the space between you. “I know it doesn’t feel like it right now, but you are.”

Your eyes flutter and your mouth presses together as the first tear trickles down your cheek. Without missing a beat, Silco’s hand is wiping it away.

“You are beautiful. And clever. And a brilliant light to everyone around you.” His eyebrows curl inward and he shakes his head. “And don’t you dare think for a second you are anything but.”

“But—” you croak out, choking down a sob.

Silco’s quick to cut you off, bringing both hands to cradle your face, willing you to look at him.

“Shhhh, no, no, no.” 

The ocean green and volcanic orange of his gaze is almost overwhelming, piercing into not just your eyes but into your very being. You’ve never met someone who so thoroughly sees you. 

“I know what is going through that head of yours and they’re all lies.” 

He presses his forehead into yours, his good eye closing. 

“You are not a burden. You do deserve every bit of affection I give you.”

His good eye opens, staring intently at you.

“Trust me and listen to me when I say: you’re going to be okay.”

You squeeze your eyes shut, forcing more tears out. Mouth a thin line, you’re helpless to stop the broken sob as it rips itself from your throat.

“Come here,” Silco coos as he wraps his arms around your shoulders.

You turn toward him, pressing your face into the crook of his neck as his hands smooth down your back, rubbing up and down your spine. Clinging to his vest, you let out a cry that was weeks in the making. 

You had held it in for so long. You thought that you had powered through it, pushed it down deep enough that it wouldn’t come back. But as Silco continues to hold you and your throat begins to burn from your pathetic wails, you know that this moment—this breakdown—was inevitable. It wasn’t a matter of if, but when.

You’re just thankful you have Silco to guide you through it.

As your tears slow and your breathing steadies, you feel a sense of relief wash over you. While the numbness you had been feeling recently still lingers, you feel as if a little bit of the weight has lifted. 

You pull back, bringing one hand up to wipe your eyes as you laugh pathetically.

“I probably look like such a mess.”

Silco shrugs.

“A bit,” he teases before reaching into his back pocket for a handkerchief to wipe your face. “But you’re my mess.”

That gets a small giggle out of you and you melt back into his arms, sighing.

“Thank you, Silco.”

He presses a kiss to your head, stroking your back.

“Any time, my love.”

Rejuvenated, you turn back to your breakfast. Silco carefully untangles himself from you, looking down at his ensemble as he gets to his feet.

“I’m impressed. You managed to not get a single tear on me.”

You take a bite out of the now-cold pastry, shrugging. “I try.”

He leans down for one more kiss, a small peck on your lips. 

“Take your time,” he hums, making his way to the door that leads to his office. With a nod, he gestures to the food in your hand. “And you better eat every last bite of that.”

You roll your eyes, smiling. Alone with your thoughts and your Poro Snax, you take a deep steadying breath.

Yesterday sucked. And the day before it sucked. And the day before it.

You take another bite, savoring the sweet flavor. Warmth blossoms in your chest, one you hadn't felt in a while. You take one more deep breath, eyes turning to the large window overlooking the Lanes. 

But I have a better feeling about today.

A/N: I have written so much smut lately, writing hurt/comfort is so refreshing. Also ngl I made myself tear up a bit while writing this and getting into the reader headspace. As a depression girlie myself, I've def had these sorts of days.

Taglist: @averagecrastinator @mazikomo @writingmysanity @insult-2-injury @ariaud @jennrosefx @ins0mniac-whack @steponmesilco  @sherwood-forests @leave-me-alone-silco @givemebeansnow @aeryntheofficial @dreamyonahill @lostbunn @eurydicethesage @thepineapplesimp @whatisafandom @violet-19999 @juicboxd @sageandberries-png @delta-is-here @mutedwordz @fly-like-egyptian-musk @jennithejester @mrsdelirium @witheringblooddemon

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Letters from Silco

In classic me fashion, I have discovered a new hyperfixation within my Silco brainrot and that is writing letters from Silco by hand. I started it with the letter found in TMSA 27 and now I've written one for all Silco simps to enjoy.

A Reminder

Word count: 250

Tags: Silco x gn!reader, established relationship, short-term long distance, soft Silco, horny Silco, suggestive language but no actual smut

My dearest,

I regret that my work has pulled me from you for this long. You can be certain that the person responsible for the mishap—for extending the need for my presence—will be facing serious consequences. This project becomes a larger headache by the day and I must face it without you by my side. But I take comfort knowing that I will be seeing you soon.

I cannot wait to hold you against me again. To look into your eyes and press my lips to yours. I fear, in our time apart, my tongue has forgotten your taste; I'm in desperate need of a reminder. I crave you, need you as a fire needs oxygen.

I have not known relief since leaving your side and I must apologize for the manner in which I intend to reclaim you as mine upon my return. The fervor with which I will devour every last bit of you. I will reacquaint myself with every curve of your body, every exquisite, supple inch of your flesh. I will leave no trace of you untouched, no part of you unworshipped. 

You will not leave my sight for a full day.

I will make sure of it.

But until then, I must work swiftly to get our efforts back on track. The sooner this error has been corrected, the sooner I can come home to you.

Wait for me, my beloved, and I will make up for every day lost. I promise you.

Yours,

Silco

If you would like a (digital copy) of a Silco letter of your own, check out this post for details on how to request one!

Taglist: @averagecrastinator @mazikomo @writingmysanity @insult-2-injury @ariaud @jennrosefx @ins0mniac-whack @steponmesilco  @sherwood-forests @leave-me-alone-silco @givemebeansnow @aeryntheofficial @dreamyonahill @lostbunn @eurydicethesage @thepineapplesimp @whatisafandom @violet-19999 @juicboxd @sageandberries-png @delta-is-here @beardedladyqueen @sirenofzaun

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I've said this before, but I wish I could make a folder on tumblr where I would stash fics like this one when I need comfort.

It would certwinly fix at least one of my problems.

As Long As It Takes

Masterlist

AO3 link

Rating: Mature 

Tags: Silco x gn!reader, soft Silco, depression, grief, hurt/comfort, emotional hurt/comfort

Word count: 705

Beta Readers: none. we die like my will to do anything

Silco notices that you've been off. He comes to quietly reassure you as you rest.

A/N: Sorry for the absence. Let's just say the reader in this one-shot is semi-autobiographical. This one's short enough that I'm just going to post the whole thing here.

You've been sleeping a lot more.

You tell yourself it's just from overworking. That it's natural for you to sleep more when you're this drained. You're working longer, harder hours.

But you know that isn't it.

You nap more frequently, for longer periods of time.

You go to bed sooner.

Wake up later.

It's becoming a pattern.

And despite your best efforts to hide it, Silco—your partner—has noticed.

You're in his room, on his bed. The bed you've shared together since you started seeing each other. You still have your own apartment, but you stay at The Last Drop more often than not. 

This is where he finds you, laying on your side, your back to the door.

You hear the soft creak of the door’s hinges before a gentle, booted footstep. Then, another step before the door closes.

Silco says your name, voice barely above a whisper, not wanting to wake you if you're still asleep.

Your fingers cling to the pillow as you close your eyes, pretending to sleep. 

There's more footsteps as your partner makes his way around the bed, followed by the mattress groaning as he sits. You feel his weight sinking the bed next to you and keep your eyes closed.

Gently, he places his palm on your hip before letting out a deep exhale. 

“I won't pretend to know exactly what's going on,” he starts, “Nor that I have all the answers.”

You keep your eyes closed, focusing on his voice.

“But I know something is wrong,” he continues. “Don't think I haven't noticed—the way you retreat here immediately after your shift. The way you've stopped going out.”

He lets out another sigh. When he speaks, his voice seems a little further away, like he's turned his face away from you to look at the wall.

“I could lie to you: tell you it'll get better. But the truth is… sometimes it doesn't.”

Your lips pinch into a line as you feel a familiar sting growing behind your eyes. 

“It never really goes away. Grief. Depression. We don't… conquer it, so much as learn to live with it.”

You hear him shift and feel his gaze on your face without seeing it. 

“But just know—you don't have to go through this alone. I'll be here to listen when you're ready.”

The both of you stay like this for a moment. You, laying on your side, eyes resolutely shut. Silco, with his hand resting on your hip, mismatched eyes tracking across your face.

After a beat, the mattress squeaks as his weight leaves it. You feel his hand start to leave you and, in an instant, give yourself away as you grab his wrist.

He gives a small startled sound and you turn to look up at him.

“Please don't go,” you whisper, a tear forcing its way past your defenses. “Please stay.”

He looks at you with gentle eyes and gives you a small nod before sitting back down. As he does, both your hands move, fingers lacing together.

Your throat bobs and your eyes turn down, looking at the sheets to avoid his gaze.

“I'm not ready.”

When you dare look up at him, he answers by simply shaking his head.

“It's okay.” 

He leans down and brings his scarred lips to your temple. You melt a little into the touch, eyes fluttering closed at the warm contact. When he pulls away, it's a mere inch, his breath still in your hair as he whispers.

“I'll wait as long as it takes.”

You pinch your lips together, eyes still closed tight as you nod. 

At that, Silco shifts to move behind you. He maneuvers his way under the sheets, his arm wrapping around your waist. You feel him slot himself behind you, his chest pressed into your back as his legs perfectly fit behind yours. You cling to his arm, pulling him closer. 

He buries his face in your neck, taking in a deep breath before kissing you gently there.

And as you both drift off to sleep, you feel just a little bit more hopeful.

Maybe tomorrow will be a little bit better.

How bad could it really be?

When you have Silco?

Taglist: @averagecrastinator @mazikomo @writingmysanity @insult-2-injury @ariaud @jennrosefx @ins0mniac-whack @steponmesilco  @sherwood-forests @leave-me-alone-silco @givemebeansnow @aeryntheofficial @dreamyonahill @lostbunn @whatisafandom @violet-19999 @juicboxd @sageandberries-png @sirenofzaun @blissfulip @mutedwordz @fly-like-egyptian-musk @jennithejester @mrsdelirium @witheringblooddemon

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Omg, thos was so cute! I usually don't enjoy modern AUs, because writers often discard the places, the plot and just put characters in our regular world, so your spin on it is awesome, even though the modern aspect isn't really discussed (still the details like Silco still being The eye of Zaun and Zaun existing in general, are very nice). And I loved the detail about transactional love and being scared of accepting help from others! I felt hat so much ugh, that was such a callout XD

I loved the dialogue between Silco and the reader, it was so cute! I imagine the reader sobering up from the anesthesia and being like "I'm so sorry you had to see that Sil, that was so embarassing..." while he's like "I'm so glad I went with you." XDDDD

Oh and after they come back from the clinic and reader "meeting" Jinx? How funny would that be?? "What's wrong with them?" "They're on strong meds, so they're a little out of it." Meanwhile the reader's like "Your hair is so pretty...Who are you?" "I'm your daughter!" And reader turns to Silco like "WE HAVE A CHILD??" Omg the chaos would be awful XD

Hi, hello! Do you know those cute videos where couples interact while one of them is on hard pain meds after stuff like getting wisdom teeth removed? Well, I would like to request a Silco x gn!reader who had to undergo a procedure like that and Silco visits them afterwards, but they're still zooted on the meds and they don't exactly remember who he is or that they're together, but they do know (and are not afraid to tell him) that he is very handsome. Just completely at aw about him. And when he tells them they're actually together?? The pure adoration from the reader?? The idea is too cute, I'm sorry. Just something fluffy and fun. But if that is not your cup of tea, that is completely fine too. Thank you!

This premise is so stinking cute! Thank you, Robin!

Foreign but Familiar

Masterlist | AO3 link

Rating: Teen. 

Tags: Silco x gn!reader, fluff, domestic fluff, modern au, anesthesia, established relationship, feminine-style engagement ring but only because I like the thought of of Silco proposing with an emerald

Word count: 1,2k

Silco escorts you to get your wisdom teeth removed and is rewarded with a very loopy partner who doesn't remember becoming engaged to him.

“You promise you don't mind? I can get one of my friends to take me—”

“It's fine—”

“I just feel bad cause it's gonna be for a few hours and you're so busy. I don't want to pull you away—”

“I said it's fine—”

“Maybe I could call—”

Silco cuts you off with a stern call of your name. You blink, silenced.

“I told you I would take you, so that’s exactly what I’m doing,” your partner says, voice low. His mismatched eyes lock with yours, rooting you to the spot. 

It almost sounds like a threat, but you suppose that’s to be expected; you’ve never been good at accepting help from others. Your entire life, good deeds in your favor have been used as bargaining chips. Love was transactional, attached with strings. So it’s understandable that you have a hard time breaking those old habits, even when the person offering them is the Eye of Zaun. (Or perhaps because he’s the Eye of Zaun). 

The drive to the dentist is painfully quiet, allowing your mind to turn over anxious thoughts. You’d never been under anesthesia before. Your brain conjures up all possible scenarios—none of them good.

Silco must have sensed your unease because soon his hand is reaching past the gear shift toward you, palm warm against your knee.

“It’s going to be okay,” he coos, eyes focused ahead on the road. “It’s a standard procedure.”

You nod, lips pinched tight.

You put off having your wisdom teeth removed for far too long precisely because of your fear. It wasn’t until Silco encouraged you to finally get it over with that you made the appointment.

Everything goes by in a blur. Various people in scrubs give you forms to sign and tell you everything you need to know as far as the procedure itself as well as aftercare. You can barely hear them over the rushing sound in your eardrums, like an ocean wave that threatens to pull you under. You thank your lucky stars that Silco is there with you, nodding all the while as he listens intently, asking questions on occasion when he needs clarification.

Before you know it, you’re lying in the dentist chair, the bright yellow overhead light hitting your eyes. You squint and hear a calming voice next to you.

There’s a needle prick.

A few minutes of bated breathing.

Then sleep overtakes you.

When you awaken, you feel as if your body is weightless, like you’ll drift off and float to the sky if you’re not careful. Your face feels funny and your mouth feels full and dry. Groaning, you slowly take in the world around you. 

Everything is a blur of bright white walls and yellow lights, with the occasional blob of blue scrubs in your periphery. There’s shuffling and chatter around you, the dentist office busily moving along its day. 

You hear a voice somewhere to your right. It’s a low hum and strangely familiar, almost comforting. A soft (slightly loopy) smile on your lips, you lean toward the sound.

“Mmm…” you hum as you enjoy the melody of the voice next to you.

There’s a small chuckle at that as well as a call of your name and it sends you giggling.

“That’s me,” you say, grinning. “That’s my name.”

You lift your eyes to a blurry image of a face. Head tilting as you take it in, you see an ocean green eye on one side and a dark obsidian black eye on the other. Your eyebrows lift in curiosity as the figure comes more into focus.

Blush settles in your cheeks as you take in more of this stranger’s form. Deep valleys of scars along one side of his face, from his temple to his lips. 

His lips…

Without thinking, you lick yours before lifting your eyes to his, taking in the mismatched gaze.

“Ooooh…” you coo softly to yourself, your attention grabbed by the glowing orange of his corrupted eye. It swirls and dances, mesmerizing in its fluidity. You’re completely transfixed by it, unable to tear your eyes away in your drugged state.  “So pretty…”

The man calls your names and it startles you a little, breaking you out of your trance. 

“Hmm?”

He says something. You can’t quite hear it.

“What?”

He says it again. You can just barely make it out.

“How are you feeling?”

You offer the handsome man a wide cotton ball filled grin. “I’m feeling great.”

You hear giggling behind you from someone in a blue scrub. 

“It’s time to go home,” the man says. “Let’s go.”

Your eyebrows furrow as your head pulls back into your neck.

“Why would I… go home with you?” You squint your eyes at him. “I just met you.” You pout your lips, thinking as hard as the drugs will allow you. 

The man chuckles softly.

“I don’t care how handsome you are, you can’t kidnap me,” you mutter to yourself, but it’s much louder than you ever intended; volume control isn’t exactly one of the first things you regain after waking up. 

The man laughs at that one before reaching for your hand.

“Hey! What are you—”

“Do you remember when I gave you this?” the man asks, lifting your hand so that you see a beautiful ring on your ring finger, gold with a large emerald. It catches the light and shines in a way you’ve never seen before.

“Wow…” you breathe out, moving your hand this way and that so that it sparkles. 

You lift your eyes back to him, the gears in your foggy brain slowly churning. Looking back and forth between him and the ring, you manage to piece it together.

Though, not all of it.

Blush rushes to your cheeks and you bring both hands up to cover them, eyes wide.

“We’re married?!”

He shakes his head, laughing.

“Not yet, darling,” he coos. “But very soon.”

He lifts your hand again, his long fingers warm as they wrap around the tips of yours.

“I gave you this as a promise that we would.”

Your mouth hangs open.

“Well?” you ask. “What’s taking so long?”

He lets out a loud laugh at that one. You feel something warm within your chest at the sound. It feels both foreign yet comforting. Like it’s something precious and rare. Like it’s something only meant for your ears.

“You’re the one who set the date so far,” he explains.

You squint your eyes, unconvinced.

A beat.

“Actually, that does kind of sound like me…” you relent.

You find yourself in the passenger seat of a car, with absolutely no recollection of how or when you got there. Turning, you see that same man from before in the driver’s seat.

“Wait…” Your brain starts to slowly awaken, but not quite enough. “How am I supposed to marry you if I don’t even know your name?”

He chuckles, slowing the car down to a stop before turning to you. He smiles and it makes the lines in his scarred face seem shallower, his entire demeanor shifting to something softer.

“Silco.”

You blink.

“Silco…” you hum to yourself. 

Your mouth pulls into a small grin, secretive and giddy, as you allow your body to sink into the carseat. You repeat the name once more, liking the way it feels on your tongue. 

“Silco.”

Taglist: @averagecrastinator @mazikomo @writingmysanity @insult-2-injury @ariaud @jennrosefx @ins0mniac-whack @steponmesilco  @sherwood-forests @leave-me-alone-silco @givemebeansnow @aeryntheofficial @dreamyonahill @lostbunn @whatisafandom @violet-19999 @juicboxd @sageandberries-png @sirenofzaun @blissfulip @mutedwordz @fly-like-egyptian-musk @jennithejester @mrsdelirium @witheringblooddemon

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If evil, Why hot?

Broken dear - Silco

Masterlist

Wordcount: 2.8K

Warnings: Spoilers arc 1! Established Vander x reader! Yandere Silco*

A/N:  * Tbh how I see Silco he is on thin line between being himself and being a yandere so…. read this how you like.

Keep reading

How do you think silco would react to someone who is sensitive and innocent but extremely naughty in the bedroom?

okay shit i had to answer this right away because i think about this all the damn time

(nsfw below the cut)

listen, listen. silco finds your innocence extremely endearing. his life has always been fucked up because of his harsh upbringing in zaun, so when you come into his life you're quite literally a breath of fresh air. you're like the one soft part in his life and he likes you more than he'll let himself admit. how could he not though? you're so damn sweet to him despite the fact that he is the devil of the lanes and he doesn't think he deserves it.

that's why it takes him so long to admit that he has feelings for you and wants you, because he doesn't think he deserves you. he doesn't want to dirty you with his sins. however...the wicked voice in his head that tells him "corrupt her, ruin her for anyone else" eventually wins out.

fuck, you're so precious, so innocent, your kisses so tentative and you look at him with doe eyes so filled with unabashed affection that he thinks he might melt into a fucking puddle, it was pathetic, really. he tries to be gentle with you, taking things slow, but then you push him back into his chair and drop to your knees.

he's intrigued, but when you take his cock out of his pants without even batting an eye and give him the best fucking blowjob he's ever had in his life he feels like the world has tipped on its fucking axis. where did this come from?

he's even more surprised when you're both finally naked and you climb on top of him on the bed, hold his wrists down, and ride him within an inch of his life. you eventually crawl off him and position yourself on your hands and knees with your ass in the air, presenting yourself to him and begging him to fuck you from behind. you've got him wrapped around your naughty little finger so who is he to say no? he obeys without a word.

it's you who starts referring to yourself as his little whore, his cumslut, and he's pretty sure he cums so hard he fucking blacks out.

afterwards, you're back to your sweet, sensitive self and hum happily as you cuddle up to him and fall asleep on his chest, meanwhile silco doesn't sleep a fucking wink because he can't entirely believe what just happened.

AJMDIWBDUQMDHKWBDIWJGOS

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Silco Master List

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All That’s Left AU Master List

𝐇𝐢𝐬 𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐝 {𝐒𝐢𝐥𝐜𝐨 𝐱 𝐅!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫}

Warning: the reader is an adult!! around the 30s (I'm sorry!!), kidnapping, blood, injury, heartbreak, swearing kinda angsty but fluff at the end, slight mention of smoking, kissing, nothing is happening btw Vander and Silco (I'm sorry again) and the reader is a mother figure to Jinx and Vi<3...

Okay I wrote this out of nowhere, it's shit but hey I am in love with Silco and Arcane is one of my fav show, so I'm sorry cause this is shitty asf :/

 She was Silco's right hand, he needs someone to be tracked? she was there, needs some information? she's there so is Jinx.

She was very hyperactive and a tough woman who can be very dangerous and would do anything for something she wants and loves, walking inside Vander's bar she grinned immediately hearing everyone go quiet, "oh come on~ am I not allowed to have one drink?" she chuckled before sitting on one of the chairs.

Vander raised an eyebrow walking towards the woman who sighed heavily and threw her head on the table, "what happened again?" he asked handing her the best strong drink for a moment like this, she took a sip, "he is calling me a friend once again, I'm tired of getting friend zoned, Vander!" she exclaimed chugging the drink in one go.

Wincing at the burning and cold drink rushing down her throat.

Vi suddenly walked in with her arms wrapped around Jinx's neck, the girls frowned and made their way towards her, "Damn, you look.. fucked up." spoke Vi sliding down another drink towards her, Y/N took it and held the glass watching as the drink danced with each move, "shut up pinky." she spoke.

"Silco brushed her off once again." whispered Jinx to her sister who raised an eyebrow, "he didn't brush me off- he just.. needed some time alone. he has enemies everywhere."  

Vi looked at Vander who only shrugged in response, the H/C-haired woman looked at her glass before getting up with a sigh, "guess I'm just being ridiculous, that's all." she said with a scoff before handing the man the money who shook his head and pushed her hand away, "it's okay, you just go home and rest." smiling softly she walked away lazily.

Jinx ran to stand beside her watching as she stopped dead in her track and look at the blue-haired girl, "what are you doing?" she asked the girl who rolled her eyes, "we live together, duh~" replied Jinx sarcastically, "I know that, but I told you that you're staying with your sister, didn't I?" said the woman with a cocked eyebrow watching as Jinx's eyes slightly widened happily, "really?" she asked not quite sure about what she just heard.

"do you want me to change my mind?" Jinx shook her head hurriedly, "good. see ya soon, kid." ruffling the young girl's hair she watched as she smile brightly before throwing herself on her, taken back by the sudden hug she wrapped her arms around her waist slightly.

"Okay, thanks Y/N, love ya!" with that she ran towards her sister who gave her a thankful nod, Y/N waved them off lazily before replying, "yeah yeah, you are a pain in the ass sometimes but I love ya too." with that she walked out of the bar.

Vi turned to look at Vander for the third time who was staring at the door with a frown, "it's like something happened that made her so mad or something..." she said, "she has been really tired these days." Vander replied, Vi was always close to Y/N, she was like an older sister o her and a mother figure to Jinx, and both the girls loved her with their entire hearts.

Y/N spent the night drinking, dancing around, cleaning her weapons, and zoning off and staring at the ceiling, did he really not once notice her feelings for him? sighing she threw herself on the bed staring at the multicolor drawings Jinx did on her ceiling and all around the place, mostly skulls.

****

Silco expected her this morning in his office just like she always does but she was nowhere to be seen, Y/N was always there the moment the sun comes up, sneaking in by the window and sitting on his chair or his desk, the way she would appear saying "hello there boss~" every morning in a childish and with the most beautiful grin made him feel warm inside.

But today, no singsong "hello there boss" or her hanging up in the rafters in the ceiling just like she always does with Jinx, their special spot in his office.

Just emptiness, pure silence not one thing could be heard, he frowned looking up and around, but nothing.

It was terrifying.

what he did notice for the next hours was the way his ears would start ringing randomly and out of nowhere, the silence was way too scary and painful, and he despised it.

He got up grabbed his coat and walked towards the door calling for his men, "look for, Y/N." he ordered coldly, it has been 6 hours and she didn't once show up, and worry started eating him alive, what if something happened to her? what if she's dying? or worse, what if she's dead?

The last time he saw her, both of them got into an argument leading him to call her a no-one and that she only works for him, and seeing her expression full of nothing but pain and shock made his heart drop but before he could even apologize, she walked away in rage with a clenched jaw and bawled fists by her side ignoring his calls.

And the thought of her probably dead disturbed him and haunted him.

That was the last thing he ever thought would happen.

2 DAYS:

It has been 48 hours since the disappearance of the woman, his men looked everywhere for her, he looked in every spot she liked and went to a lot, Vi and Jinx were also looking for her.

Nothing.

No one dared to speak to their boss, he was way too angry and the last thing they want was to die in the hands of Silco, the eye of Zaun. Jinx shed some tears and looked everywhere, especially the spots where both mostly hung out together, their secret ones, Vi was worried sick and asked Ekko for help.

Here sat Silco in the middle of the night with his head in his hands, rage overtook him like hellfire, he missed her, he couldn't sleep for 3 whole days, the days she went missing and the night they fought, he missed her so fucking much, her laughter, her smile, her taking care of him, taking his cigar and throwing it out with a harsh glare, her kisses on his cheek, her injecting his medicine while sitting on his lap, her voice.

Her. her. her.

he needed her, he wanted her.

He clenched his jaw trying to fight the urge of punching someone, himself mostly, the silence was suddenly cut off by the sound of the window behind his chair opening, he turned around expecting it to be Jinx but his eyes widened.

There she stood stumbling inside the room with raspy breathes and painful winces as she held her side, her H/C hair messy, her hands bloody as she clenched her side with tears covering her eyes, her hair covering her face but he could see blood splattered all over her face, she looked fucked up.

"hello there boss..." she greeted between gasps trying to catch her breath and that was the only thing she needed to say before he pulled her to his embrace, tightly hugging her.

She froze, he did not just hug her, she must be dreaming right? the familiar scent of rich leather and tobacco scent brainwashed her as she immediately reddened, eyes watering.

Even with her body aching everywhere she hugged back melting against his hold, letting the tears finally race down her cheeks as she stepped closer, nuzzling in his arms and shakingly wrapping her arms tighter around his waist.

"I thought you died, oh my love." he sighed wiping her tears and kissing her forehead lovingly, "let's get you cleaned up, yeah?" but she didn't move instead just reached up to cup his cheek, her thumb brushing over his scar softly, "I thought I lost you.." 

the sound of her voice full of pain was as if someone was stabbing him repeatedly in the heart, "you won't lose me, I will always be there for you, now come on sweetheart, let's get you cleaned up?" she nodded, her head was spinning as she suddenly grabbed his arm trying not to trip.

His hand immediately went to wrap around her waist as he immediately picked her up like a bride, she was losing consciousness, "stay awake from me, Y/N. stay awake." he ordered watching as she chuckled trying not to fall asleep cause who knows if she might never wake up.

"ordering me around when I'm dying, wow.." she spoke looking up at him with half-awake eyes, "you know, you have very attractive eyes..." Silco scoffed with a small laugh, "you sound drunk." he placed her on the couch and immediately got rid of her top ignoring how soft her skin looked.

"We gotta stitch it up..." he said grabbing the supplies, she winced and gestured for him to just get it over with, after cleaning the wound and needle he pressed it on her wound making her cry out in pain, her fingers scratched against the couch as she tried to grab hold of it, her hand on her mouth to stop herself from screaming.

Once he finished she gasped for breaths, wrapping the bandage around her waist he got up, cleaning his hands before helping her up she leaned against him and walked trying not to wince with each move. Silco sat on his chair and gestured her to sit on his lap, she did as told, her legs hanging off the arm and her head on the manchette.

Feeling his fingers run through her hair she sighed softly letting her eyes close, his other hand was running up and down her thigh, "who did this to you?" he asked watching as she opened her eyes staring into his, "doesn't matter anymore, I killed them all."

"Who fucking is it?"

"that guy who wanted to take your spot." she replied hand reaching up to brush the few strands that fell in front of his eyes before cupping his cheek, feeling him lean a little bit, "you have such beautiful eyes..." with that she closed her eyes once again.

No one ever called him beautiful, not with heavy scarring on the left side of his face and a left eye with an orange iris and black sclera, "darling? would you mind?" he asked the woman handing her the syringe for his eye which mostly looked like a needle gun, it's a micro-dosing shimmer to heal it or at least stabilize it which she hated.

Strengthening her posture she sat on his lap, his hand on her waist as she got the syringe ready, "you ready?" she asked softly watching as he nodded throwing his head back, his other hand sliding to her thigh, counting in a whisper she injected it watching as he grunted and pain and tightened his grip on her thigh making her grab his cheek softly.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry."

He looked deep into her eyes panting heavily and without a thought, he pressed his lips against hers making her gasp and freeze in place. her lips were so soft and perfect against his just as he was about to pull away she chased his lips once again.

He leaned more against the chair relaxing, she was here with him, and he can finally rest, she pulled away and went back to the way she was before, his hand on her H/C hair and the other checking other wounds.

"I'm alright, you can rest." with that, she closed her eyes letting the sleep consume her after 48 hours of being kidnapped and treated like shit, she was finally resting on her so-called boss's lap who was supposed to be her lover after their kiss.

Robotic failure Silco x Gn!Reader

Alright, this came to me because I was making my oc for arcane and I just had to write it done for you guys to enjoy.

You have a Robotic arm, leg, and spine. There will be nudity and a little bit of spice! so enjoy! 18+

Sorry if there are any mistakes!

----------

A small pained sigh left your mouth, rubbing at the place that metal meets skin. Usually, you never take off your prosthetics feeling vulnerable without them. Nowhere to run or to fight, just a leg and arm to keep you 'save'. Small hands took hold of the one rubbing at the skin, Jinx hanging from the ceiling, before dropping to sit next to you. Looking over the skin, fully pushing off the jacket that was hanging from your shoulders, letting it fall to the couch.

"You will just rub your skin raw."

a small laugh left your mouth. "I know, but it seems that the phantom pains are at their worst today."

She nods, leaning her body against you, her cold hand wrapping around your bicep, cooling down the skin. Leaning your head on hers, she hummed, talking about her day to you. Her new bombs, annoying Sevika, and missing Silco who was out for a job. Not to worry he would be returning tonight, you were here in his office to look over some paperwork and keep an eye on Jinx. Not that she was going to do much, with you she would rather cuddle and tell you about the voices, helping her deal with them. A sharp hiss let your mouth, pain now also shooting up your leg, so knowing jinx was here, you reached down unclipping part of your pants.

Jinx quickly helped you out of the pants leg, revealing the robotic leg, scars running along your skin. Slightly turning the leg, hearing it click out, you put the leg away on the table. Feeling Jinx unhinge your arm, placing it next to the leg, she slide over to sit on the ground, looking your prosthetics over. Leaning back, you let the pain wash over you, closing your eyes to focus on letting out any pained sounds. The door opening didn't reach your ears, the sad smile jinx gave the man that was standing in the doorway was something you missed as well.

With a soft wave of his hand, jinx grinned, hopping up and out of the office with a quick side hug the red-eyed crime lord. stalking over to the young person sitting on the couch, his eyes flicking over to his desk, seeing that all the paperwork was done and sorted. A small shack of his head, he took a seat next to you, looking you over. The pained expression told him enough, the ghost pains were pulling at your mind. He had seen it on Sevika, and on himself, his eyes still did hurt, something he might never get rid of.

"You got to relax your shoulders, my dear. Otherwise, they might lock up."

His words were spoken in a soft tone, opening your eyes to shift them over to him, a tired smile on your face to tell him it was alright.

"Says the one who works 24/7 and never takes a break for himself."

A small chuckle, as he moved to pick you up, walking over to his chair, taking a seat, and putting you on his lap. Pushing your face into his neck, he pulled himself closer to the desk. Ghosting his fingers over your spine he began to push on to your spine. Small clicks were heard in the empty room, hand gripping his waistcoat, his other hand running through your hair. Pushing the last part of your neck, a small sigh left your mouth, kissing his neck with a thank you following right behind it. A soft hum is all you got back, so with a shift, you were now looking down at him, hand resting on his shoulder.

Leaning down, lips touching, hands sliding along your back, your own now in his hair. With a pull on the back of his head, his head fell back with a gasp, a grin pulled at your lips. Ghosting your lips over his neck, whispering against his skin how much he meant to you. Kissing where his neck met his shoulders, hands gripping your waist, pulling back looking down at him. Hair all over the place, a small blush on his cheeks, and god his despread eyes, like you were the only thing that was keeping him grounded. Taking his chin between your fingers, pull him close before pressing your lips back together. With a small shift on his part, you felt his hard-on against your own, a small groan leaving his lips.

Deepening the kiss, tongues fighting over who would win, a small whine leaving his lips as you slightly lean more over him, winning the battle. With a gasp, he lifted you onto his desk, standing in between your legs, hands pushing open your legs, bodies pressed together. Lips now find your neck, leaving no part untouched, feeding off your small whimpers and moans. A harsh bite to your neck makes you grind into him, hands tightening around your waist, trying to pull you impossibly close. Slipping his hands under your shirt, quickly lifting it over your head, admiring your body, holding down your hand as it was trying to cover up.

Kissing you again, hands exploring your chest, a moan leaving your lips as he brushed over your nipples. The cold air in the room not stopping them from hardening, your own hand now trying to get him out of his clothing. Only going so far as to get his waistcoat and a few buttons undone of his blouse before he dived down to your neck again, marking you up without a thought in his mind. Slipping your hand down to his crotch, rubbing his dick through his pants, ripping a deep moan from his lips, resting his head on your shoulder. undoing his pants, pulling it down enough for his cock to spring free, wrapping your hand around it. A bite to your neck, made you slightly jump, a groan leaving your mouth before a bruising kiss was pushed against them. His hand wrapped around yours pulling it away from his cock, pushing you to lay down on the table.

nock, nock

A loud growl left his throat, as he pulled you back up, onto his lap, wrapping his coat around you pushing you into his chest, your head resting on his shoulder. with an enter, the door opened, Sevika stepping through. Seeing me, a small smile crept up on her face, but Silco was quickly to ask what she wanted when it dawned on you. Feeling his cock still rubbing against your belly and your exposed upper body being kept warm by his coat, a heavy blush set itself on your face. So with a small shift, you pushed your face into his neck, hoping this talk would soon pass, and you could pick back up where you left off.

Robotic failure Silco x Gn!Reader

Alright, this came to me because I was making my oc for arcane and I just had to write it done for you guys to enjoy.

You have a Robotic arm, leg, and spine. There will be nudity and a little bit of spice! so enjoy! 18+

Sorry if there are any mistakes!

----------

A small pained sigh left your mouth, rubbing at the place that metal meets skin. Usually, you never take off your prosthetics feeling vulnerable without them. Nowhere to run or to fight, just a leg and arm to keep you 'save'. Small hands took hold of the one rubbing at the skin, Jinx hanging from the ceiling, before dropping to sit next to you. Looking over the skin, fully pushing off the jacket that was hanging from your shoulders, letting it fall to the couch.

"You will just rub your skin raw."

a small laugh left your mouth. "I know, but it seems that the phantom pains are at their worst today."

She nods, leaning her body against you, her cold hand wrapping around your bicep, cooling down the skin. Leaning your head on hers, she hummed, talking about her day to you. Her new bombs, annoying Sevika, and missing Silco who was out for a job. Not to worry he would be returning tonight, you were here in his office to look over some paperwork and keep an eye on Jinx. Not that she was going to do much, with you she would rather cuddle and tell you about the voices, helping her deal with them. A sharp hiss let your mouth, pain now also shooting up your leg, so knowing jinx was here, you reached down unclipping part of your pants.

Jinx quickly helped you out of the pants leg, revealing the robotic leg, scars running along your skin. Slightly turning the leg, hearing it click out, you put the leg away on the table. Feeling Jinx unhinge your arm, placing it next to the leg, she slide over to sit on the ground, looking your prosthetics over. Leaning back, you let the pain wash over you, closing your eyes to focus on letting out any pained sounds. The door opening didn't reach your ears, the sad smile jinx gave the man that was standing in the doorway was something you missed as well.

With a soft wave of his hand, jinx grinned, hopping up and out of the office with a quick side hug the red-eyed crime lord. stalking over to the young person sitting on the couch, his eyes flicking over to his desk, seeing that all the paperwork was done and sorted. A small shack of his head, he took a seat next to you, looking you over. The pained expression told him enough, the ghost pains were pulling at your mind. He had seen it on Sevika, and on himself, his eyes still did hurt, something he might never get rid of.

"You got to relax your shoulders, my dear. Otherwise, they might lock up."

His words were spoken in a soft tone, opening your eyes to shift them over to him, a tired smile on your face to tell him it was alright.

"Says the one who works 24/7 and never takes a break for himself."

A small chuckle, as he moved to pick you up, walking over to his chair, taking a seat, and putting you on his lap. Pushing your face into his neck, he pulled himself closer to the desk. Ghosting his fingers over your spine he began to push on to your spine. Small clicks were heard in the empty room, hand gripping his waistcoat, his other hand running through your hair. Pushing the last part of your neck, a small sigh left your mouth, kissing his neck with a thank you following right behind it. A soft hum is all you got back, so with a shift, you were now looking down at him, hand resting on his shoulder.

Leaning down, lips touching, hands sliding along your back, your own now in his hair. With a pull on the back of his head, his head fell back with a gasp, a grin pulled at your lips. Ghosting your lips over his neck, whispering against his skin how much he meant to you. Kissing where his neck met his shoulders, hands gripping your waist, pulling back looking down at him. Hair all over the place, a small blush on his cheeks, and god his despread eyes, like you were the only thing that was keeping him grounded. Taking his chin between your fingers, pull him close before pressing your lips back together. With a small shift on his part, you felt his hard-on against your own, a small groan leaving his lips.

Deepening the kiss, tongues fighting over who would win, a small whine leaving his lips as you slightly lean more over him, winning the battle. With a gasp, he lifted you onto his desk, standing in between your legs, hands pushing open your legs, bodies pressed together. Lips now find your neck, leaving no part untouched, feeding off your small whimpers and moans. A harsh bite to your neck makes you grind into him, hands tightening around your waist, trying to pull you impossibly close. Slipping his hands under your shirt, quickly lifting it over your head, admiring your body, holding down your hand as it was trying to cover up.

Kissing you again, hands exploring your chest, a moan leaving your lips as he brushed over your nipples. The cold air in the room not stopping them from hardening, your own hand now trying to get him out of his clothing. Only going so far as to get his waistcoat and a few buttons undone of his blouse before he dived down to your neck again, marking you up without a thought in his mind. Slipping your hand down to his crotch, rubbing his dick through his pants, ripping a deep moan from his lips, resting his head on your shoulder. undoing his pants, pulling it down enough for his cock to spring free, wrapping your hand around it. A bite to your neck, made you slightly jump, a groan leaving your mouth before a bruising kiss was pushed against them. His hand wrapped around yours pulling it away from his cock, pushing you to lay down on the table.

nock, nock

A loud growl left his throat, as he pulled you back up, onto his lap, wrapping his coat around you pushing you into his chest, your head resting on his shoulder. with an enter, the door opened, Sevika stepping through. Seeing me, a small smile crept up on her face, but Silco was quickly to ask what she wanted when it dawned on you. Feeling his cock still rubbing against your belly and your exposed upper body being kept warm by his coat, a heavy blush set itself on your face. So with a small shift, you pushed your face into his neck, hoping this talk would soon pass, and you could pick back up where you left off.

Hi, uh, yeah I really liked Silco ever since my first watch but here I am - 2 years late to the Silco Simp Stampede. I don't even know where my resurfaced Arcane brainrot came from, but now I'm adding a third villain to my list T_T

PS: The braid and the prosthetic are already from a fic - I'll give it a post soon : )