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ace-of-zaun · 2 months

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The Wrong Place at the Wrong Time: Pt. 8

Silco x f!reader - 7.6k words - SFW

cw: fluff, angst, anxiety/dread, injury, medical anxiety, health and illness, taking care of people, talk about self-defence and physical assault, get your seatbelts on lads we’ve got another emotional rollercoaster chapter, but with a fluffy ending bc it’s me

If someone had told kitchen-utensil-salesperson you that one day you’d be having to bribe the Eye of Zaun’s daughter, to keep her quiet about your relationship with said kingpin, you’d have laughed in their faces and told them to get lost.

But alas, here you were.

You’d had a long chat with Jinx about why you weren’t telling people and why she couldn’t tell anyone either. And after surprisingly little convincing from the two of you, Jinx had agreed to keep your secret… for a price. Sweets once a week for every week she kept it a secret.

Dear Janna, was this girl Silco’s daughter.

She’d also sweetened the deal by throwing in a few extra game nights every month, so that’s how you find yourself sitting at Silco’s desk, Jinx on your lap in the chair opposite his, as you play yet another round of Gun Bun.

Silco is, rather annoyingly, picking incredibly obnoxious words on purpose when it’s his turn, (seriously, how many nine-year-olds know the word egregious?) so you decide that this is the perfect opportunity to mess with him.

At first, you simply decide to spell all of your words wrong, irritating him just a little bit more with every line drawn as he fails to guess the correct letters.

Once he cottons on to that, correcting your spelling like a disappointed teacher, you move onto the next level…

You start making words up.

Jinx giggles and squirms about in your lap when you whisper your nefarious plan to her, earning a narrowed look of suspicion from your criminal(ly gorgeous) boyfriend.

Unfortunately, this tactic only works for one round, because when you finally complete the drawing of Mr. Bunny shooting a gun (complete with the obligatory BANG!) and Silco still hasn’t guessed all the letters, Jinx reveals the word with a menacing glee.

And Silco loses it.

“That is not a word,” he says, immediately glaring at you since you’re the obvious instigator.

He looks so grumpy and so adorably exasperated, you just want to kiss him until he forgets both his own name and just how difficult you like to make his life.

“It is!” you argue, staring at him whilst you valiantly battle against the urge to smile, before revealing, “I just made it up.”

His whole expression drops into the most incredulous deadpan.

“Darling.”

“What?” you counter. “All words are made up! It’s not my fault you can’t keep up with me.”

There’s a pause where Silco just stares at you, mismatched eyes glimmering with something just on the edge of dangerous.

You stare back, raising one cheeky eyebrow in challenge. That does it.

“I think it is best we retire for the evening,” he says, tone clipped and impatient, though his eyes never once leave yours.

Jinx whines in disappointment, climbing from your lap onto the desk just so she can launch herself into Silco’s lap. She clings to him like a kitten until he finally gives in to her and agrees to one more game, as long as it doesn’t involve any words.

Which of course means your absolute favourite activity in the whole, wide world. Drawing!

You teach them both a game you played as a child, one where a piece of paper is folded three times, in a way where you can only see one section at a time.

The first person secretly draws the head and shoulders, with some lines over the fold into the next section so the second person can join it up. They then flip it over to the next section, where the second person draws the torso and arms, while the last person then draws legs and feet, making sure to keep your separate drawings hidden until the very end, where you reveal the character you’ve all made together.

You go first to demonstrate, drawing the head of a smiling girl that looks a little bit like Jinx (you know, if Jinx were a squiggly, blue doodle).

After Jinx and Silco have both drawn their sections, you open up the paper and spread it flat on the desk, revealing, to Jinx’s delight, an absolute monstrosity of a character.

Underneath your smiling face, Jinx has doodled a thin torso with long spaghetti arms that loop round and round until their hands rest on their hips. But it’s nothing compared to Silco drawing his own boots and somehow forgetting that he needed to draw legs as well.

You play this game for a few rounds, until it’s Silco’s turn to draw first. Except he takes a millennium, sketching with his pen like he’s in the middle of an art class. But it’s only when you spot him gently rocking the chair from side to side, almost imperceptible to the untrained eye, that you realise he’s trying to lull Jinx to sleep.

And surprisingly, it works, humming quietly under his breath until she falls asleep in his lap, adorably curled up with her face against his chest.

Once he’s certain that she’s fast asleep, he lifts his head to give you a knowing look before carefully lifting her and carrying her back to her bedroom. You take the look to mean that you should get changed into your pyjamas so you can both cuddle up when he returns from putting her to bed.

But when you stand up from your chair, groaning as you stretch your tired body towards the rafters, you take a moment to peek at Silco’s drawing, sliding the paper over the varnished wood until you can finally see.

And you swear your heart melts in your chest when you look down at it. A portrait of you, looking happier than you’ve ever seen yourself looking. At least, up until you’d moved in with Silco. Now, you’re pretty sure you look like this most of the time.

You’ve begun to stay in his bedroom a few nights a week, usually when he doesn’t stay up working until dawn like a madman.

Your (imaginary) spy training has gotten a real workout every morning, ensuring no-one sees you make the dash back to your own bedroom, then getting dressed to go and meet Silco in his office like you hadn’t spent the whole night in his bed.

Honestly, part of you wonders if it would just be easier to move some of your clothes into his bedroom, but you’re not sure if he’d want that. The man does have a lot more clothes than you do.

And what if he’s not ready for you to both officially move in together? How would you even approach asking? Should you just do it and blame the goblins when he asks if you put them there? (They’re cheeky little bastards, you know, they’ve stolen enough of your socks from the washing machine.)

You’re just preparing to leave the office, peering around the corner of the doorway to make sure there’s no-one in sight. You’d left the kingpin snoring in his bed just moments ago, and it’s far too early for Sevika to be anywhere near The Drop, so you’re pretty confident you’re not gonna be caught.

Crouching down a little feels like a good, sneaky spy move, so you bend your knees slightly, duck your head, and begin to tip-toe down the hallway as quietly as you can.

And honestly, even after only a few steps in, you’re genuinely starting to feel like you could break into one of those fancy art museums Topside and complete the heist of the century. That is, until a low voice calls out behind you.

“What in Janna’s name are you doing?”

Janna herself would be proud of the way you hold in the blood-curdling scream that threatens to erupt from your vocal folds.

Instead of waking up everyone in the entirety of Zaun and probably some of Piltover, you clutch your chest and hiss out a wheezing, “Holy fucking fuck-”

You spin around to glare at Silco who is standing in the doorway to his office, coffee cup in hand as he leans nonchalantly against the frame.

How didn’t you hear him sneak up? And how the hell did he manage to wake up from being borderline comatose AND make himself a coffee in such a short amount of time?

You squint at him suspiciously as if that’ll make him reveal all his secrets. Maybe he should be the spy…

Silco looks rather amused as he watches you.

“Has anyone ever informed you that you possess quite the potty mouth?” he asks, in that raspy morning voice that is far too hot for its own good.

“Has anyone ever informed you that it’s rude to try to give your girlfriend a heart attack on purpose?” you shoot back.

He holds his free hand to his t-shirt clad chest in mock offence.

“I can assure you, my love, I was attempting no such thing,” he protests with the guiltiest look you’ve ever seen in your whole entire existence.

You point at him as a threat.

“Boy, don’t test me. I’ll take you out of my will.”

Silco’s face drops into a faux upset, slapping one hand against his cheek dramatically.

“Oh no, whatever will I do without your collection of novelty ice-cream scoops?” he questions sardonically.

You return it with an overexaggerated gasp, (but deep down you’re secretly pleased he’s starting to play along with your melodrama; oh how the turn tables).

“How dare you!” you exclaim, throwing both hands up to cage your poor, shattered heart, before you turn your nose up to sniff haughtily. “That’s it, I’m breaking up with you.”

Silco swiftly downs the last of his coffee and then tosses the mug onto the sofa behind him blindly, instantly changing your mind on what you just said.

How the fuck did he do that without it breaking into a million pieces? And more importantly, how is he easily the hottest man in the world?

“I think not,” he practically growls, stepping forward into the corridor.

“You can’t stop me,” you announce loftily. “Me and the Scoop Troop are outta here.”

He advances on you slowly until he’s leaning down to speak into your ear, the roughness in his timbre sending a shiver down your spine.

“Then I suppose I shall have to convince you to stay.”

Abruptly, Silco leans down to pick you up, deftly swinging you up into a bridal carry, forcing you to try your best not to squeal and accidentally wake everybody up.

Then, he turns on his heel and carries you back in his office, kicking the door shut behind you as you giggle breathlessly into his chest.

Maybe the reason you look so much happier now after moving in with Silco, is because you are.

Of course, spy training in the mornings is not the only kind of training you embark on.

True to his word, Silco begins to teach you self-defence after the multiple attacks you’ve endured since accepting the job as his negotiator. (To be fair, you’d endured some during your time at the market stall too, but that had been at a significantly lower danger level compared to this.)

So you’re in the bar one early afternoon, a few of the tables pushed out of the way to give you room to properly move about. Silco has given strict orders that no-one is to enter the bar until you’re finished, which had earned a huff of annoyance from Sevika, who would be forced to take the long-winding emergency exit in and out of the building.

Standing across from Silco in the cleared space, you ready yourself to learn some basic defence, hoping it’ll trump your current tactic of just running away really, really fast… (okay, fine, a moderate jog at best).

You’d hoped to learn how to properly use the knife Silco had gifted you in the market, excitedly bringing it along in the hopes that he’ll show you some cool moves.

But he’d confiscated it the very second you’d taken it out of the box and nearly dropped it on your own foot, blade down.

So… self-defence it is, for now.

Your boyfriend (smoking hot; an utter bitch; an absolute icon) stands opposite you, hands clasped behind his back as he talks.

“Today I will show you some basic movements that will allow you to disengage if an attacker were to grab onto you,” he explains, reminding you of your old geography teacher (who was also your everything-teacher because, you know, Zaun). “Then, depending on how well you-”

Silco continues to tell you his lesson plan in detail, but honestly, you stop listening the second you notice that his shirt sleeves are rolled up. And he’s wearing a different waistcoat. It looks a little older than the usual ones he wears, but it’s still hot. Really accentuates his slutty little waist.

Your cheeks get warm just thinking about it.

Is it hot in here or is it just you?

And gods, isn’t he pretty with his hair a little bit messy, those dark waves just the tiniest bit mussed up. And wouldn’t he look even prettier if you ran your hands through it and maybe put your lips on-

“Are you listening?” Silco cuts in.

Your head snaps up to meet his gaze, positively startled at the interruption.

“Yes, sir,” you blurt out.

He smirks in response which does not help your predicament in the slightest.

“Very well,” he nods, bringing both hands to rest on his hips. “We will begin by learning a disengagement technique that would be useful if somebody were to-”

You swear you’re trying to listen.

Honestly.

But that voice. And the way his lips move when he talks.

And fuck, it’s hot when his throat bobs when he swallows and-

“Are you ready?”

Uh oh, you did it again.

“Huh?” you mutter, dragging your gaze away from his throat.

“I said, are you ready to try the movements I just explained?” Silco asks, raising one eyebrow expectantly.

“Of course I am,” you scoff confidently, despite having not listened to a single word he’s just said. “I’m practically a cage fighter at this point. I could take you down faster than you could say 2-in-1 decarboxylator and herb infuser.”

He doesn’t ask. In fact, he’s stopped asking what the hell you’re talking about when you’re both busy because it more often than not just leads to a twenty minute monologue, which he’s more than happy to listen to as you lie in bed together. But not when you’re about to learn important skills like how to defend yourself in a fight.

“Alright then, show me,” Silco responds, stepping closer to you to do whatever the hell he’s been talking about for the last five minutes.

Suddenly, he reaches out and grabs a handful of your shirt with one hand, scrunching it up right next to your collarbone.

Your body jolts forward slightly with the motion, eyes flicking up to gawp at him in alarm.

But instead of flipping you over his shoulder and breaking your spine (you assume that was the intent), Silco just looks down at you, waiting patiently for you to make your move.

Of course, you have no idea what you’re doing (ever), so you just stand there like a rat in headlights, staring up at him in awe.

“Grab onto your shirt like I told you, darling,” he instructs softly when you still don’t do anything.

“It’s okay, you can have it if you want,” you whisper back in a daze.

“No, grasp the fabric with this hand,” he says, gently guiding your hand to fist the material, right next to where his hand is still holding onto it. “And then grab onto my wrist with your other hand.”

You do and suddenly, you feel like you’re in a sauna.

Why’s he grabbing your shirt like that? And how in the actual fuck can somebody’s wrist be so goddamn hot?

“Now pull your shirt away from me with your hand and push my wrist away with the other,” Silco continues, seemingly unaware of how flustered you are.

Oh, so that’s what he’s trying to get you to do.

You hesitate for a moment, blankly staring at his arm. Only then does Silco notice your reticence, but he must put it down to nerves because the grip on your shirt lessens slightly.

“It’s alright, my love, just try your best,” he tells you soothingly.

You smile up at him, utterly dazzled by his… him-ness.

“Okay.”

You just want to impress him. To make your silly little guy as proud of you as you are of him.

So you try your best…

Which of course means putting way too much power into it.

With absolutely zero warning, you shove him away from you at the same time as you rip your shirt from his grasp, the force causing you to stumble and trip yourself up on your feet. Instinctively, you reach out and grab onto Silco’s waistcoat, pulling him down with you.

He just about manages to catch the back of your head before it smacks against the floor, but can’t save himself from crashing down on top of you.

Your fingers stay latched onto him as he leans up to check on you, hand still cupping the back of your head protectively.

“Are you alright?” he asks frantically, rapidly looking over you for any injuries.

Your brain must have short-circuited because in lieu of answering, you simply gaze up at him in shock.

The fall appears to have knocked some of his hair loose, now hanging down over his forehead in strands, and sweet Janna, this should be a crime.

It’s not fair. How are you supposed to do anything or even think straight with this?

Silco cups your cheek and calls your name, clearly panicked.

“Can you hear me?”

It’s too much for your poor heart, so give you in and press your lips against his in a passionate kiss.

Silco freezes for a split second before letting out a startled, hmpf!

He moves back, breaking the kiss to hold both of your hands against the floor to stop you from leaning up.

“Darling, this is serious! You cannot kiss me in the middle of training,” he huffs, exasperated.

You hope the puppy-dog eyes will earn you your forgiveness.

“But you’re just so cute.”

He sighs, head hanging down low for a brief second before he meets your gaze again.

“Are you injured?”

“No. Are you?”

Silco appears to be relieved, but also a little perplexed.

“I’m fine, darling. How did you lose your balance so easily?” he asks. “It was supposed to be a simple manoeuvre.”

“I uh… I got distracted,” you say bashfully.

Please don’t read my mind. Please don’t read my mind. Please don’t read my mind.

Luckily, he just runs a hand through his hair, trying to put it back in place. He fails spectacularly.

“You cannot get distracted in a fight, you must be vigilant at all times,” he tells you, like he’s trying to be stern.

You take no notice.

“Even if the person I'm fighting is ridiculously hot?”

Silco ignores the question (despite the fact that the tips of his ears are turning the loveliest shade of red) and continues pretending to be strict.

“Let’s try getting out of this hold,” he says. “What do you think would be the best way to escape from this position?”

You don’t even bother looking for a way to escape, still too focused on giving some love to your mans.

Leaning up as far as you can, you deliver a quick kiss to his nose, which, to your absolute delight, only makes him blush even more.

He says your name as a scold.

“What did I just say?”

You toss your head to the side and whine, rumbling your legs a little against the floor like a child.

“Why can’t I just do this if someone attacks me? I feel like it’s kinda working.”

“Do what?” Silco asks with a frown.

“Kiss them.”

And gods, you swear the noise that emanates from his chest is a growl.

“Absolutely not,” he grunts, pressing himself slightly closer to you until you involuntarily squeak.

Silco releases his grip on your hands and climbs off of you, helping you to stand up so he can dust off your trousers.

Over the course of the next hour, he does actually teach you one or two methods to escape someone’s grasp, but perhaps more usefully, he explains that it’s better to focus on prevention of attacks, rather than relying on moves that you’re probably going to forget when filled with adrenaline.

But just knowing that you’ll have both a slew of bodyguards and a little bit of knowledge in self-defence makes you feel a bit more confident, which was probably the only reason you agreed to learn in the first place.

Of course, the impromptu lesson ends when you trip again and nearly break your nose falling into a table, this time when you’re only trying to get a glass of water.

Being led carefully back upstairs by Silco, he exhaustedly suggests that training takes place in his office from now on, to which you ask if you can be wrapped up entirely in bubble wrap in what you would call your Safety Suit.

You get no response, which in your books is not strictly a no, so you make a mental note to add an industrial amount of bubble wrap to the next product order you fill out.

Lacing your fingers with his, you give him the biggest, most affectionate smile as you follow him upstairs to the shower, wondering just how in the hell you got so lucky.

It’s only a few weeks later that Jinx gets sick, somehow catching a head cold that thankfully isn’t too concerning, just a bit of a temperature that puts her in bed for a few days.

Although, much like her father, she's incredibly demanding. Which of course only multiplies tenfold the second she starts to feel under the weather, insisting either you or Silco be with her all day every day. So the two of you take shifts, juggling paperwork, meetings, and spending time with Jinx, as well as trying to look after yourselves.

It works for a few days, distracting Jinx when she gets bored or frustrated, coercing her to eat and drink, the three of you even spending time together to discuss her new invention ideas while she’s stuck in bed.

Then, it all goes downhill from there.

You’re on Jinx duty one afternoon, down in the kitchen and in the middle of making her a warm drink when a loud commotion erupts from the bar. Your head pops curiously around the door frame only to be greeted with the sight of utter chaos; a slew of the club’s bouncers and Silco’s usual bodyguards frantically rushing through the club.

For a brief second, you wonder if there’s a security convention happening that you hadn’t been made aware of.

But the moment you spot the Doctor slinking through doors and up the stairs towards Silco’s office, your heart drops in your chest.

He’s supposed to be at a meeting right now with Sevika, across town.

Or will it have finished by now? Would he have had time to walk all the way back to The Drop?

Fuck, what if something happened during the meeting?

Desperately trying to keep the panic at bay, you slip through the crowd and up the stairs, all the while hoping you’ll find your boyfriend in his office as normal, pacing in front of the window like he usually does when there’s been a hitch in the plans.

But when you reach the doors, you find two more burly guards blocking the entrance.

You suck in a breath of air and take measured steps down the corridor until you’re standing in front of them.

“Hey guys, I need to talk to Silco,” you say as calmly as possible, pointing to the door behind them.

“Sorry, can’t let you in,” one of them says, barely even sparing you a glance.

You frown.

“Why? What’s happened?” you ask, trying to hide the wobble in your voice. Then, at the risk of sounding too involved, “Is he okay?”

“There’s been an incident,” the other grunts.

You hold in the urge to scream and respond as courteously as you can given the situation.

“Yes, I gathered that, but it’s really important that I talk to him.”

The guards barely look at you, as if you’re just a fly buzzing in front of them.

“Sorry. Protocol.”

Your fists clench at your sides.

He’s your partner, for Janna’s sake!

For all you know, something terrible could’ve happened and these two chumps are treating you like you’re the maid! As a matter of fact, you’re pretty sure you rank higher than these two in the pecking order anyway.

You put on your meanest face and glare up at them, channelling all your Eye of Zaun energy.

“Look, I don’t give a rat’s arse about protocol, I need to see him right-”

Even just the mention of protocol reminds you of Jinx, who you’d completely forgotten about in all the hubbub.

Your mouth drops open and you spin on your heel mid-sentence, racing down the corridor to her bedroom. Footsteps land heavily on the floor until you’re bursting through into her room the instant your fingers grasp the handle.

Jinx is completely fine, albeit a little startled at your dramatic entrance, sitting up in bed where you’d left her. You almost collapse in relief.

“You were gone for ages!” she complains with a huff, until her eyes land on your empty hands and her face screws up, whining, “Hey, where’s my hot choccy milk?”

You rush to her side, gently soothing back the sweaty hair from her forehead with your hand.

“I’m sorry, pumpkin, I forgot,” you attempt to placate her. “I’ll make one for you in a little bit.”

Her annoyance fades and you just see the worry overtake her expression as she examines you, eerily similar to her father.

“What’s wrong?” she asks.

“Nothing’s wrong, sweetheart.”

She isn’t buying it.

“Yeah there is,” Jinx scowls, even crossing her arms against her chest to show you she really means business. “Don’t lie to me, I’m not a little kid anymore.”

You sigh. What the hell are you meant to tell her? You don’t even know what’s going on.

“There’s just been… a little bit of an incident, but it’s nothing for you to worry about. We’re safe here,” you try to say reassuringly.

“Where’s Dad?”

“He’s just trying to sort everything out,” you reply. “I’m sure he won’t be long.”

Gods, you hope that’s the case.

Honestly, you feel awful lying to her, but you have no idea what’s happening yourself. So right now, you both need to stay as calm as possible.

You sit with her for however long, keeping both Jinx and yourself distracted with a game while you internally battle with yourself to stop the worry from overtaking you.

It’s probably only a few minutes, but it feels like it’s been hours when the door finally opens and Sevika enters, automatically throwing a grimace towards Jinx.

Of course, Jinx isn’t Sevika’s greatest friend on the best of days, but now that she’s sick, it’s entirely worse. She throws the covers over her head and groans in retaliation.

“Boss wants to see you,” Sevika announces, looking directly at you, thankfully ignoring Jinx’s outburst.

Hope flutters in your chest for a split second. If he wants to see you, that means he’s awake and more than likely talking.

But you can’t really ask the six million questions that are running through your brain with Jinx here listening. And you also can’t really leave her with Sevika, unless you want the entire room to be destroyed.

“Can you fetch Ran for me?” you ask, begging the woman with your eyes whilst keeping your tone neutral. “I can’t leave Jinx on her own.”

Sevika sneers, clearly annoyed.

Then, you watch as she considers Jinx (still hiding under the covers), and probably considers being the one to watch over her for the foreseeable.

Without another word, she promptly turns on her heel and walks out the room.

The whole time you’re waiting for her return, Jinx pesters you to let her see her Dad, but you make her promise that she’ll stay in bed until he gives the okay.

Luckily, Sevika is back within minutes, Ran in tow, who silently reclines in the furthest chair from her bed. You explain to Jinx that you’ll be back soon, and encourage her to tell Ran about all her new invention ideas.

And the very moment you’ve shut the door to her bedroom, Sevika pauses outside, presumably to update you on the situation.

But your anxiety immediately gets the better of you and you sprint down the hall like a madman, too nervous to even wait a few seconds.

Vaguely, you hear Sevika mutter, “Don’t know why I fucking bother,” as you speed away, but you’ll have to apologise to her later.

You need to see him now.

When you arrive at Silco’s office, the guards move to the side in preparation, although they do manage to look the tiniest bit alarmed when you burst through the doors yelling, “I just really love paperwork!” and kick the door shut behind you.

Hopefully that’ll quench any suspicions they might have.

Silco is clearly not in his office, so the next port of call is his bedroom, of which you slam the door open and tumble into the room, hanging onto the door knob for dear life when the motion threatens to send you sprawling across the floor.

From his bed where he’s laid out, Silco’s eyes widen in bewilderment, jolting back against the pillows his head is propped up on.

Your fingers grip the door handle while your eyes fill with tears, gasping at the sight of him.

It’s hard not to miss the stained bandage around his thigh, missing waistcoat, and filthy, rumpled clothes. And the fact that he’s much paler than usual.

You feel sick.

“Sil…”

“I’m fine, darling,” he attempts to mollify you, shifting about as he tries to sit up.

“No, no, don’t move,” you choke out.

You rush over to him, uncaring of the way your knees crack against the ground when you heavily drop beside his bed.

“What-” you swallow the knot in your throat, shakily willing the tears away. “What happened?”

A hand reaches out to comfort him, but you hesitate, hovering above his arm.

The last thing you want to do is accidentally hurt him.

Silco grasps your hand with his, firmly intertwining your fingers together. But you beat him to it, bringing his hand to your mouth to gently kiss his knuckles.

“An individual attacked us on our way back to the club,” he explains, two-toned eyes focused on where your mouth rests on the skin of his hand.

You look up at him, brow furrowed.

“An individual? Did you see what they looked like?”

“No, they were masked and escaped before Sevika or I could apprehend them,” he replies, voice clearly tired and groggy.

You want to ask why the hell they were alone without any guards, but you know he’ll just get huffy about it. Something about being able to look after himself.

Your hand runs over your face as you sigh.

“Do you think it was one of the gangs?”

That’d be the most obvious set of culprits.

“It could be, or it could be a lone fanatic who disagrees with my policies,” Silco replies. “We will conduct a thorough investigation and in the meantime security measures will be tripled, you and Jinx included.”

“What did the Doctor say?”

“The usual,” he says, avoiding eye contact as his gaze trails to your clasped hands once more. If there’s one thing that Silco hates, it’s talking about his own health and wellbeing. “The Shimmer injections should speed things along.”

He doesn’t give you a chance to respond before cutting in with a question of his own.

“How is Jinx?”

“She’s fine, worried about you,” you tell him, squeezing his hand in comfort.

Suddenly, your eyes meet his, filling with tears once more as your mind begins to spiral.

What if-

You cut off that train of thought immediately, letting go of his hand and leaning forward to lightly rest your forehead against his side.

“Oh, Sil,” you mumble shakily into the creased fabric of his shirt.

“Come here, darling,” he says, gently pushing you to sit back up.

You look up to see him patting the space beside him, the side you usually sleep on.

“But I don’t want to hurt you,” you protest weakly.

“You won’t,” he says with resolve.

You only hesitate for a moment longer before standing up and making your way around the bed, gingerly climbing onto your side.

Silco quickly reaches for you and pulls you over to him, laying your head against his chest and wrapping his arms around you. You’re careful not to lean on him too heavily.

And gods dammit, as you lie there cocooned in his arms, those tears slowly and silently leak out against your will, soaking into his burgundy shirt.

“I was so worried,” you begin, hoping he can’t detect the wobble in your voice. “I… I thought…”

“Shh, my love,” he hums into your hair. “I’m here now.”

You allow yourself to relax in his presence, beyond thankful that he’s here and he’s alive, even if he’s injured.

You’ll take care of him every single day until he’s better. And even after that too. For as long as he wants you.

But as much as you want to stay in his arms right now, reassuring yourself with each inhale and exhale of breath that levers your head on his chest, you have to get up.

“Where are you going?” Silco protests when his arms slip away from you.

“I need to check on Jinx,” you explain, reluctantly climbing off the bed with a sniff. “Plus, it might look a bit suspicious if I spend too long in here. Might start a few rumours.”

Silco frowns when you stand at the foot of the bed and straighten your clothes, scrubbing a hand over your face to wipe away the tears.

“Bring Jinx here, then you can stay as long as you like,” he says, almost with a pout.

You try not to smile at the way he sounds like a little boy trying to get out of bedtime

“She’s still in bed,” you explain. “Plus, she’ll get upset if she sees that you’re hurt. I’ll send Sevika back in to watch over you.”

Silco doesn’t look convinced, so you wander over to his side again.

“Don’t worry, I’ll come back later,” you say, kissing his forehead tenderly.

He catches your hand before you can leave, smirking a little.

“Why can’t you tell everyone you’re my nurse?” he asks, that mischief still lurking despite the exhaustion. “Then you could spend the night here, no questions asked.”

You tug your hand out of his grasp, glaring down at him in faux annoyance.

“If you weren’t already injured, I would actually smack you right now,” you threaten.

“Sounds lovely,” he grins, reaching for your hand until you dance out of his reach with a yelp.

You begin to walk towards the door.

“Stay in bed, you menace. And don’t do anything I would do!” you call out over your shoulder as you leave, exiting the room before you do anything stupid (like offering to give him a sponge bath just because you want to take his shirt off).

And as you go, you pray to Janna that this period of recovery with Silco’s injury is not going to be a trial. The last thing you need right now is any more stress.

The period of recovery is a trial.

But did you honestly expect anything less with Silco as your patient?

Luckily, his leg begins to heal fairly quickly, no doubt thanks to the Shimmer injections. But it still takes a bit of time until he can get back to work as normal.

After checking up on Jinx, you find out from Sevika that the Doctor had actually ordered bed rest until he gives the okay. Which is a relief at first because it means that you can bully Silco into properly resting for once in his life.

Except, that means you have to take over the brunt of the meetings and paperwork.

Between the worry about both Jinx and Silco’s recoveries, and having to carry most of the business, you think you’re losing your mind.

You continue to take care of Jinx, as well as Silco, who are both the whiniest, most demanding two people you’ve ever met when they’re sick.

Jinx hates that she can’t visit Silco in case she gives him an infection and bugs you constantly about going to see him. And Silco borderline whines every time you stop him from getting out of bed to ‘just smoke one cigar and fill in one shipping manifest at his desk’.

Yeah, no.

More often than not, you’re running between the two of them, perpetually washing your hands and making sure your mask is secure on your face.

Sometimes you’ll briefly stop on the way to inhale a snack. Sometimes you’ll shove your face under the sink taps and get both a drink and a wash at the same time. Other times you try not to scream into the nearest pillow or cushion in fear of accidentally losing your voice.

This time, you’ve just finished putting Jinx to bed (a battle far more ferocious than probably any battle in history, ever), and you’re now on your way to check on Silco, ready for his new evening routine.

Check stitches. Clean wound. Re-bandage. Give medicine. Give food. Check he’s actually taken medicine. Give drink. Find a new book for him to read because he’s bored, darling.

But instead of finding him laying in bed, plucking his comb like it’s a musical instrument, he’s standing up (barely) and clutching to the dresser.

You watch incredulously as he attempts to tug his trousers over his injured leg, sweating, pale, and clearly out of breath.

“Are you serious right now?”

He looks up, lips pulling into the tiniest smile at the sight of you.

“Hello, sweetheart,” he greets warmly, before going back to the task at hand.

You think your head is going to explode.

“What are you doing?” you ask dumbly.

The tray of his food and meds are placed on the bedside table, while Silco continues to wrestle with his trousers. Frankly, he looks ridiculous, pyjama top still on, trousers halfway up one leg as the other gets stuck on his ankle over and over again.

“I have a meeting,” he informs you, as if that’s an explanation.

You look up to the ceiling like you’ll find a piece of your sanity on it. There’s definitely no meetings scheduled in the diary.

Dear gods, if he’s got a fever now and is hallucinating, you think you might just evaporate.

“What meeting?”

Silco decides not to give you any details and instead just calmly states,

“It is very important. I must attend.”

Then, he carries on trying to get dressed like he wasn’t stabbed in the leg only a week earlier.

You can almost visualise the stress levels rising in your body; the jug about to overflow and spill out of you.

What you should probably do right now is carefully help him back into bed and fetch Sevika so you can all decide on the best solution to this dilemma.

But you’re human, so you let your emotions get the better of you instead.

“No.”

Silco has the gall to look surprised.

“I beg your pardon?” he asks, genuinely shocked at your directness.

“I said no, now get back in bed,” you say, moving over to him to help him take off those stupid trousers and put his pyjamas back on.

He must not understand how serious you are right now because he continues to gently protest.

“Darling, I appreciate-”

“Silco,” you cut him off, tears filling your eyes as you arrive in front of him, looking him dead in the eye. Your voice is shockingly quiet and precise. “I need you to get back in bed or I think I am actually, seriously going to lose it.”

He looks startled, shuffling forward to comfort you.

“Sweetheart-”

“Please, Silco,” you cut him off, your voice cracking with the words.

Silco appraises you for a moment, watching your tense body and distraught face.

Finally, he speaks.

“Alright,” he concedes quietly, mismatched eyes full of concern.

He manages to step out of his trousers and you help him hobble back over to the bed, pulling up the covers so he can get under the sheets.

And once he’s comfortably sat up against the headboard, he opens his mouth to speak again, eyes watching you carefully the whole time.

You don’t let him.

You lean forward, kiss his cheek, and then step away.

“Please eat this,” you say, nodding to the tray on his bedside table. “I’m going to check on Jinx and then I will be back to change your bandage.”

Your footsteps out the room are measured and by the time he calls your name, asking you to wait, you’re already out the door. But you can’t stop walking because if you do, you’ll burst into tears…

Which is exactly what happens after you check on Jinx.

You’re just on your way back to Silco’s bedroom when one of the employees stops you in the corridor to say that a warehouse has been raided, meaning a bunch of stock has been stolen.

You politely thank her for letting you know, ask her to inform Sevika, take a sharp turn into your bedroom, and break down sobbing.

Truthfully, you’re not sure how long you spend kneeling on the floor next to your bed, face down as you cry into the sheets.

But it must be long enough because the door opens and a set of limping footsteps shuffle towards you.

He sits down on the bed and gently - soothingly - runs his fingers through your hair.

There’s a sharp intake of breath between each word, but you somehow manage to heave out, “You… should… be… in… bed,” sobbing the last word until it’s completely unintelligible.

“I know, my love, I know,” Silco consoles you.

He delicately encourages you to get up and get into bed, following you under the covers despite there barely being enough room for the both of you.

Once he’s reassured you that you’re not hurting his leg, you let him hold you in his arms, rubbing your back until you stop crying.

You have a killer headache. And a big part of you feels bad for letting him comfort you when it should be the other way round.

“Do you know why I gave you this bedroom when I first asked you to work and live here?” he eventually mumbles into your hair.

You sniffle. “No, why?”

“It’s the only one with a single bed.”

Slowly, you pull back to look at him in disbelief.

“What?”

“I wanted to make sure you didn’t invite anyone over,” he explains nonchalantly, like any sane person would invite you to live with them and give you the tiniest bed ever, just because he was jealous of even the thought of you having a partner.

You huff a laugh and his lips quirk into a smile in response.

“There was never anyone to invite over,” you say. “Plus, it doesn’t really make sense to invite someone over when they already live with you.”

Silco watches you affectionately. He cups your cheeks and leans forward to capture your lips in the slowest, most tender kiss.

Your eyes flutter closed and you whisper against him, “You’re injured.”

“My lips are perfectly fine,” he mumbles back.

You gently whack him on the arm.

“Silly boy.”

He smirks (the one that still gives you butterflies) and steals another kiss before cuddling up to you again.

“Thank you for looking after everything for me,” he says over your shoulder. “In truth, I am not quite sure what I would do without you.”

“I don’t know how you do it all, I feel like one of those stretchy dolls being pulled in every direction until they snap,” you snort, scrubbing a hand over your face.

“You’re doing wonderfully, my sweetheart. I am continually astounded by your unwavering strength and compassion,” Silco tells you.

Then, he blows an amused breath of air out of his nose, like he can’t quite believe whatever he’s thinking. “It’s no wonder I-”

He pauses, whole body suddenly tense in your arms.

You wait patiently for him to continue, squeezing him a little bit tighter in reassurance.

“Hmm?”

Silco eventually lets out a shaky exhale, simultaneously relaxing into your touch, almost like he’s melting into your warmth.

“I know that you will be just fine. We will be just fine,” he says.

You hum again, feeling yourself drifting off to sleep with each looping circle traced on your skin.

Deep down, you know you’ll have to go fetch him some water and his first aid supplies when you wake. You’ll sit in your armchair beside your own bed until he wakes up from some much needed rest.

But he’s worth it. He’s worth the crick in your neck, and the reduced hours of sleep, and the overwhelming stress.

He’s worth it all.

Because you love him.

a/n: did anyone else play the folded paper drawing game or was it just me??

edit: i just googled it and the game is called Exquisite Corpse 😭

edit edit: so i’m currently trying to plot out the rest of this story so there’ll hopefully be fewer breaks between chapters (it was only meant to be a one-shot lmao), wish me luck my lieges 🙏 if you’re still reading this daft story after all this time, ily. if you’re new, welcome ily

#silco #silco x reader #silco x f!reader #silco x you #silco fic #silco arcane #part 8

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ace-of-zaun · 2 months

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aaaaaaaaaaa i love it so much!! thank you, i genuinely feel so honoured! 😭 twirling my hair, kicking my legs at this!!

i love the colour scheme and the art style - i can just imagine it lying on a street in Zaun, waiting for someone to pick it up!

funnily enough, my username is partly based on a deck of cards, specifically the ace cards, so i was very pleasantly surprised that you interpreted it the same way!

thank you again!! sending you hugs ❤️

Name it and Draw it

@ace-of-zaun ILY so much and ngl I feel like I did u dirty w this doodle 😭

Ace-of-zaun makes me think of an ace card that is really popular in zaun for some reason-

maybe ppl even praise it too-

Ace-of-zaun I'm not tryna diss on you ILY 😭

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ace-of-zaun · 3 months

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You (And I):

Silco x f!reader - 2.6k words - SFW

cw: best friend!silco, fluff, banter, mutual pining, idiots in love, mentions of cat-calling and harassment (not silco), mentions of poverty, soft silco my beloved, a little bit of angst in the form of reader being anxious about not knowing who is climbing through the window, but it's just the boy

summary: Your best friend misses you, so the only logical solution is for him to climb through your bedroom window at three in the morning, without telling you beforehand… It’s a good thing that you love him (and it’s an even better thing that he loves you too).

It’s taking you a little bit longer than usual to drop off to sleep as you lie in bed, curled up under the covers, trying to keep as much warmth in as possible. Your room is right at the very top of your parents’ bar, The Last Drop, which is also where you’ve just started to work full-time instead of just the odd job you’d helped out with growing up.

But now, with money for food tight and the threat of closure even tighter, you’ve found yourself doing pretty much anything to help keep the bar afloat, from running errands and setting up during the day to serving customers all evening and cleaning up after a long night.

Your first proper job; you’d think with how exhausted you were you’d drop to sleep the very second your head hit the pillow.

Not tonight, it would seem. Tonight your mind appears to be far too preoccupied to let your body relax.

Your train of thought easily wanders to what you’d usually be doing on a Friday evening. More often than not you’d be holed up in the corner of a tiny café, trying to read your book while Silco asked your opinion on every little detail of whatever scheme he was working on at the time.

Or you’d be forcing Silco to give you a piggyback through the streets after raiding the market for the cheapest items you can find, Vander in tow carrying all the loot.

You can’t help but smile at the memories, a fuzzy, warm feeling spreading through you at the recollection of your best friend. Just the thought of him calms you; your lighthouse even in absentia.

And it seems to do the trick, eyelids just starting to feel too heavy to keep open, a sure indicator of incoming sleep, when a scrabbling noise outside your window causes you to frown.

…you really hope you don’t have rats again.

Of course, the sensible thing to do would be to get up and investigate. But you’ve only just gotten warm and sleepy, and not only is the window on the other side of the room, but you’re laying on your side with your back to the glass, and honestly who in their right mind would want to get up in the freezing cold just to have a staring contest with some rats?

Scrunching your eyelids even tighter closed, as if it would block out the sound, you attempt to lull yourself back into that bliss you were so close to achieving, vowing to deal with the little rodents in the morning.

Almost like magic, the scrabbling stops and you sigh in relief.

Until you hear the unmistakable sound of the window creaking open.

Your eyes shoot open and your blood begins to pump urgently around your body.

Fuck, why didn’t you lock the window before getting into bed? You must’ve forgotten in your sleep deprived state.

One hand slowly inches towards the knife you keep under your pillow as two, almost-silent thuds resonate across the floorboards.

Your heart practically leaps in your chest when you hear a series of soft footsteps approaching your bed, but you manage to keep yourself as still as possible, your only movement hidden beneath your pillow as you grip the knife handle tight.

A beat. Then another, as you wait for the exact right moment with bated breath.

The intruder pauses by your bed and you inhale sharply, preparing yourself to strike.

Without warning, you abruptly swing your body around, throwing off the covers as you blindly leap towards them.

But they’re faster, shoving you back down against the bed with their lithe body and clapping a hand over your mouth before you can even think to scream out.

The knife slips from your hand, leaving it to clatter to the floor while you thrash about in your assailant’s grasp.

“Stop it, it’s just me!” a familiar voice hisses down at you, halting your movements instantly.

You gaze up at the figure in bewilderment, slowly but surely recognising those jet black waves and hooked nose with every rapid heartbeat.

It’s just Silco.

He must spot the very moment that recognition sparks in your eyes because he’s soon grinning down at you, boyish, slightly crooked, and entirely too cheeky for his own good.

“Hey,” he says smoothly.

You push him off you with an unamused scoff, aiming to send him tumbling off the bed as you sit up and try to calm your erratic breathing.

No such luck though, he just stumbles to his feet and quickly drops down next to you on the bed while you plant your feet on the cold wooden boards, running your hands through your bedraggled hair.

Silco’s hand rests gently against your lower back and you glance up at him from your hunched up position of elbows on knees, palms against your forehead.

You’re filled with the sudden urge to yell at him. Loudly.

But your parents are asleep and they’ll be positively furious if they discover Silco in your bedroom in the middle of the night, so you settle for hissing at the ridiculous boy like an angry cat.

“What the fuck are you doing climbing through my bedroom window at half three in the morning?”

Silco appears completely unfazed.

“I left my lockpick at home, so I couldn't get in through the front door,” he replies, swiftly dodging the smack you try to deliver to his arm and instead catching your hand to press a chaste kiss to your knuckles. “And I missed you.”

You roll your eyes and snatch your hand back, but you’re unable to prevent your heart from swelling in your chest at his sweet words. Damn that natural charm of his.

Luckily, a glance down at the knife by your feet distracts your wandering heart.

“Why didn’t you say anything? I could’ve stabbed you.”

“Nah, you couldn’t,” he says dismissively until you shoot him a murderous glare. He returns it with a nonchalant shrug. “Thought you were asleep.”

“So why even bother climbing in?” you ask with a frown.

And then, from the corner of your eye, he begins to look the tiniest bit bashful, gaze dropping to the floor as he starts to draw random shapes on the material of his trousers with his nails.

“I, uh… I was gonna wake you up and ask if you wanted to go skip stones in the river.”

Your expression drops as you slowly turn to stare at him, which he meets with a dorky little grin. You groan and flop back down onto your bed, swinging your feet up so you can lay your head against the pillow, completely and utterly exasperated.

Your best friend has been possessed by a five-year-old boy, you’re sure of it.

Silco watches your dramatic display with clear amusement.

“I’m gonna take that as a no, then?” he asks.

“How do you have so much energy?” you whine, throwing your arm up to hide your face in the crook of your elbow. “Didn’t you have work today?”

“I had some work today,” he says, eyes quickly darting away from you. “Just not at the mines.”

Now this causes you to frown, peering over your arm at his trying-too-hard-to-look-relaxed body language.

“What kind of work?” you question, which he promptly ignores, so nudge him with your foot, concern growing by the second. “Sil… what kind of work?”

He lays down next to you, propped up on his side with one elbow, and starts absentmindedly playing with your hair.

“So, how was your day? You didn’t get any creeps trying to feel you up again, did you?”

You sigh heavily, knowing you’re not going to get an answer to your question. To be honest, you wish you didn’t have to give one to his.

It had only happened once or twice since you’d started working late shifts in the bar, and it hadn’t been as bad since your parents had begun to shut it down everytime a patron got a bit too touchy.

But it still didn’t make it right.

“No, just the odd comment,” you reply, suddenly overly-interested in your nails.

Silco wraps his arm around you and pulls you onto your side so he can hold you against his chest, chin resting on the crown of your head.

“I’ll hang around during your next shift and kill anyone who even looks your way,” he declares, with a ridiculous amount of conviction.

You roll your eyes even though he can’t see. Dramatic boy.

“Don’t be stupid,” you say, lightly tapping your palm once against his back as a half-hearted scold.

“You’re right,” he agrees with a resolute nod. “I’ll let you kill them yourself, you deserve it.”

Your sigh is laced with exasperation but you still shift to cuddle him properly, arms wrapped around his midsection. You just want to enjoy his presence while you have it, even if he is a pain in your ass.

“I missed you too,” you say quietly after a peaceful silence, recalling his words from earlier. “It sucks working so much, I feel like I never see you anymore.”

“I know,” he hums soothingly, hand now rubbing tiny circles into the small of your back. “Just means we gotta make the most of the times we do.”

Snuggling him even tighter feels like the only appropriate response, so that’s what you do.

You could honestly stay here forever. No responsibilities, no stress, just Silco.

“You free tomorrow lunch? We could grab something to eat and then climb up to the roof of that factory by the river, if you want?” Silco asks.

A warm smile tugs at your lips.

“Yeah, I’m free.”

Your parents had been kind enough to give you the afternoon off tomorrow, but you were still expected to help out in the morning and evening as usual.

“Is Vander coming too?” you ask.

Silco shakes his head above you.

“Nah.”

“Oh,” you respond, surprised the third member of your ragtag trio won’t be joining you. “Why not?”

“I thought it could just be a you and me thing, you know?” Silco reasons confidently, although you do spot just a hint of insecurity in his voice, like he’s nervous you’ll interrogate him further.

Butterflies twirl through your stomach at the phrasing. You and him. You and Silco. A duet in this city of lonely hearts.

“Okay. That sounds nice,” you say, trying to keep the smile out of your voice.

He squeezes you once before he sits up a little, twisting around to pick the duvet up from off the floor. The covers are soon pulled over you both, where he tries to wrap his arms around you once more only to be met with you aiming little kicks at his legs.

“Oi, shoes off, you heathen,” you demand, ripping the duvet away from him. “I just washed these.”

Seriously, you didn’t spend all morning washing, drying, and ironing all your clothes and bedding just for him to muddy them with his filthy shoes. Janna knows where he’s been in them or what he might’ve stepped in (especially considering you’ve never seen him clean them in all the years you’ve known him).

“Alright, alright,” he grumbles, muttering a sardonic little,“Bossy boots,” under his breath.

Surprisingly, he does actually take the time to unlace them and even places them carefully under the bed, instead of just lobbing them across the room like you expect him to.

Only then do you allow him back under the covers, shifting about until you’re both comfortable in each other’s arms, legs tangled together to ensure you’re as close as possible.

“You know, you should really lock your bedroom window,” Silco comments after a few moments. “You never know who could be lurking about this time of night.”

You huff an amused breath through your nose.

“What, like you?”

“No, like some weirdo with nefarious ideas,” he insists, annoyed that you’re not taking him seriously.

You pull back in his arms to look him square in the face.

“...so, you?”

Silco pouts so adorably, you have to hold yourself back from just kissing him right there and then.

“You’re mean,” he says, looking like a little boy who has just had one of his toys stolen in the playground.

In lieu of kissing him, you boop him on the nose with your finger and give him a cheeky, affectionate grin.

“You love it.”

But your heart sinks in your chest when Silco’s face drops, gazing at you intently as if he’s searching for something. Then his gaze darts away, the tips of his ears turning red, and you start to panic that you’ve said or done the wrong thing.

Instinctively, your hands hold him a little bit tighter, scared that he’ll just get up and go.

“You know, my parents are going to kill me if they see us in bed like this,” you whisper over his shoulder, desperately trying to lighten the mood before he scarpers.

“Well, as long as they don’t kill me, then that’s fine,” he whispers back, and you can tell by his timbre that he’s smiling through the words.

You smack his shoulder, relief flooding through you in abundance.

“Idiot.”

There’s a pause.

Then, he says tenderly, (almost too tenderly for your poor heart).

“...Yes, but I’m your idiot.”

Patterns are happily traced against his back until you finally notice just how tired you are, leaning back to twist your head away from him so you can yawn into your hand.

Silco watches you quietly, stroking your cheek with his thumb like a slow, soothing metronome.

“You should get some sleep,” he says softly, his expression etched in quiet adoration.

Your eyebrows lift at the sheer audacity.

“Bitch, you’re the one who woke me up,” you protest sleepily.

He makes a show of turning to look over his shoulder and then back at you, pointing at his sternum with a quizzical frown.

“Who? Me?”

So, you sneak your cold hands up against the back of his warm neck until he yelps. Silco wrestles your hands off his neck, clasping them in between his palms until he lets you tiredly wrestle them back and smoosh your face into his chest, giggling into the front of his shirt.

He gently runs his hands through your hair as you both settle down once more, his own quiet laughter feeling like a blessing.

You almost don’t want to sleep now. You don’t want to miss any more time with him.

“Sil?” you murmur.

“Yeah, Squidge?” he replies.

Your nickname, from the time he threw a leftover tentacle at you from Jericho’s, named after the absolutely ridiculous noise it made when it slapped against your face. You love to hate it, which of course only makes Silco love it more.

“We’re always gonna be best friends, right? No matter what?” you say, deep down hoping you don’t sound too clingy.

You just can’t bear the thought of drifting apart from him. You honestly don’t know what you’d do without him.

Luckily, he soothes your worries without even a hint of the usual teasing.

“Absolutely,” he affirms, carefully running his nails along your scalp in a calming, repetitive motion. “You’re stuck with me now, come rain or smog.”

“Good,” you nod happily. “Just checking.”

Basked in Silco’s warmth, you’re far too exhausted and cosy to fight against closing your eyes, drifting off to sleep while the boy presses a delicate kiss to your head.

And right before you fall, he mumbles, oh so gently, into your hair.

“As if I’d want to be anywhere in this world except right here next to you, my perfect girl.” What a coincidence. There’s nowhere you’d rather be than right here, next to him.

#silco x reader #silco x you #silco x f!reader #silco #silco fic #silco arcane #one shot

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ace-of-zaun · 3 months

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#op you are SO talented #this is beautiful #the shading #and the red #and the EYE #just wonderful

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ace-of-zaun · 3 months

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It’s Because:

Silco x gn!reader - 1k words - SFW

cw: fluff, angst, pining, denial of feelings, falling in love, brief mentions of death, injury, and trauma, happy ending

summary: Silco is not in love. At least, that’s what he tells himself.

a/n: i’ve never written anything like this before, i hope it works!! (it really hurt to type as well but my physio told me i had to.) inspired by the song i’m not in love by 10cc

Silco is not in love.

Unequivocally, categorically not in love.

He doesn’t even know what love is when he meets you as a jaded, starving teenager, too busy trying to make ends meet to even think about something as trivial as love. But he does know that the easy way you smile when you meet his eyes makes his day just that little bit brighter.

He’s not in love when he spots you a few years later, standing quietly amongst the meagre crowd in the bar, listening to his rallying speech of change and independence. Although, the spark in your eyes as you watch him is like a match to the burning in his chest, and for once in his life, it makes him feel alive.

Silco isn’t in love when he accompanies you on mission after mission, learning to trust one another as he watches your back and you watch his in return, securing resources, and medicine, and meals for the starving children of his city. It’s just the adrenaline from the sprint back home, as you both narrowly escape the Enforcer’s clutches, that sets his heart racing to the dozen.

He can’t be in love when he watches you from across the bar, laughing, and singing, and dancing along to the jukebox, unaware of how effortlessly you light up the room. And so what if deep down he wants to join you and bathe in that light, soaking you in until you're his? It’s not like it means anything anyway.

There’s no such thing as love on his birthday when he refuses to tell anyone the significance of the day, instead scowling down at yet another shipping manifest. Except, when you hand him a cupcake and kiss his cheek as you walk through the bar on your way to the market, he hopes the red of his ears and the longing expression isn’t too noticeable.

Love isn’t present on the night you cry in his arms, heaving sobs that wrack your body as you mourn those lost in the fight, yet more casualties in this never ending fight for freedom. It’s simply the right thing to do when he lulls you to sleep, shushing your cries until your breathing slowly evens and your heart beats sync up with his.

Silco tells himself he isn’t in love when you sit side by side, legs dangling off the little bridge that crosses the river as he gifts you a starburst necklace that once was his mother’s. And it certainly doesn’t mean anything when you gaze up at him with the softest smile, intertwining your fingers with his while you gently rest your head on his shoulder.

He is not in love the day you stand with him in the little alcove across the street from the bar, sheltering from the rain that drips down to form galaxies of puddles along the square floor. You’re up on your tip-toes, his arm is around your waist, and when your nose bumps against his, his heart beats so loud he’s sure you can hear it-

But then his brother is suddenly there, pulling him away from you as he insists he goes for a walk with him, and Silco makes the worst decision of his life and agrees.

In thunder and rain, Silco knows that love ends in nothing but betrayal when he is forced to disappear, body pulsing with pain, mind in tatters. He’s hurting, and angry, and beyond scared. But weaved in between it all, he thinks of you and pictures the way you looked and felt beneath his fingertips, and thinks that maybe it’s not all bad.

There’s no time to think of love when, years later, he finally gets his revenge and reclaims his bar, his home; a second chance at raising the city his people deserve. Though, it’s almost like serendipity when he happens to take a break from arranging his schedule to look through the window down into the square, and there you are, standing in the middle of the street silently watching his workers carry in new furniture.

He isn’t in love when he runs down to you, nearly tripping down the stairs in his haste, pushing through the doors until you’re right there in front of him, the only place he truly feels safe. But when you don’t scream or slap him or curse him for leaving you, instead striding across the distance to throw your arms around him in a tight embrace, he forces himself to choke back his tears and allows yours to soak into his shoulder instead.

Silco continues to remind himself that he’s not in love in the coming months, while you sit beside him day after day, helping him put his plans into motion, listening to every word, every worry, every whisper. Really, who can even tell that his heart skips a beat when he spots that you’re still wearing his mother’s necklace, still so mirandous even after all this time?

He’s not in love the evening you sit atop the bar, laughing as you retell a story from your youth, caught delightfully off-guard when he can’t help but surge forward, capturing your lips while his hands cup your heated cheeks. It’s just one of those things, he supposes, to finally feel content standing between your legs, your own lips pressed in a smile against his, in a way that kick starts his once dead heart.

But now, nearly two decades after he’d first laid eyes on you as a naïve boy, he lays next to you in bed and watches you sleep peacefully, tangled in the sheets the same way you’ve weaved yourself into his heart. And in the quiet lull of the night, he runs his fingers over a shiny, jewelled ring, custom-forged to match his mother’s necklace that still rests around your neck.

He thinks of easy mornings and four-word questions, and for the first time in his life, allows himself to simply feel.

Maybe, just maybe, Silco is in love.

#silco x reader #silco x you #silco x gn!reader #silco x f!reader #silco x m!reader #silco #silco fic #silco arcane #one shot

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ace-of-zaun · 3 months

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Silco, shadow studies with a reference

#this is beautiful #genuinely stunning

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ace-of-zaun · 3 months

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Pumpkin Powered

In honor of fall (and late for Halloween), please have a fluffy AU for my main fic, Children of Zaun.

Summary: Silco and Viktor bring a pumpkin home. Katya is confused. Then charmed.

Warnings: None/SFW

Word Count: 1.1K

Notes: Silco x F!OC (Katya), cute unfinished doodle at the end of the drabble

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Katya had just finished drying the final glass. Carefully, she tucked it away in the cupboard with the rest of its kin. Sighing, she flung the damp tea towel over her shoulder and checked the time on her pocket watch.

Silco was cutting it very close to Viktor’s curfew. He had promised Katya he would not be late with the boy; had insisted that she could trust him with her greatest treasure. Silco had never given her reason not to believe him, so when he had offered to take Viktor to the Springs – just the two of them; ‘the boys’ – she had kneaded her lower lip with her teeth only a moment before she conceded.

She trusted Silco with her life – with her heart – so surely, she could count on him to watch over her brother.

Katya’s eyes drifted to the apartment’s murky window, her stomach giving an unwelcome swoop downwards. With the arrival of fall came the short life of the sun, the Lanes darkening even quicker than usual. And risks liked to lurk in the darkness. Thick brows knitting together, she contemplated slipping her boots and coat on to go look for them.

Before Katya could step away from the sink, the door’s locks rattled loose and it swung open, Silco and Viktor staggering in. Her brother’s uneven steps were, of course, due to his limp. Silco’s was a surprise, but his gait was quickly explained by the large pumpkin looped up in his arms. He stumbled through the kitchenette and hauled the large gourd onto the table.

“It’s a pumpkin!” Viktor trilled; voice high with excitement.

“I see that,” Katya said, confusion layered thickly over her words.

“I’m going to go get my things!” Viktor cried over his shoulder, thunking his way to his bedroom. He did not explain what ‘things’, nor what the pumpkin had to do with them.

Silco wiped his hands on his pants, letting a deep, satisfied sigh tumble through his grinning lips. Katya was about to ask why and how they came home with a pumpkin in tow when Silco strode back to her. One large hand wrapped around the back of her neck and head and pulled her into a firm kiss.

“Hello, my Lovely,” he said as he broke away, teal eyes glittering. His cheekbones and the tip of his nose were still flushed pink from the chill outside. “How was your afternoon?”

Instead of answering him, Katya’s gaze traveled to the comically large pumpkin now perched on her kitchen table. “Where did you get that?”

A throaty chuckle blossomed from Silco’s chest. “There was a vendor on the way back from The Springs – “

“Silco, you didn’t need to spend your money – “

He waved away her concern. “They are very useful. Once Viktor is done with it, you can break it apart. Bake the seeds, make soup, bread, pies from the meat . . . Mum probably has a few recipes, if you would like.”

Katya relaxed against the kitchen counter, her hips settling against it. Fingers of one hand wove their way through one of Silco’s belt loops, drawing him closer, while the other picked a dry leaf out of his scraggly, windblown hair.

“What did Viktor want with a pumpkin?” she asked, holding the fragile brown leaf gingerly in her fingers.

“I want to see if I can make it light up this chem-bulb!” Viktor answered, limping back into the kitchen.

A strange contraption was tucked under his free arm, the glass globe of a chem-light sheltered in his armpit. Wires sprang from its base wildly, some of them dragging across the floor. He placed the apparatus on the table next to the pumpkin and clambered onto his seat. He babbled excitedly about scientific reasons as to why he thought the large gourd was supposed to work as a power source for the light.

Katya stepped over to the table and proudly watched as Viktor mapped the wires around the pumpkin, puncturing its firm flesh with metal pins. Behind them, Silco readied the kettle for some tea.

Sitting next to her brother, Katya sorely wished she could follow his line of thinking and long-winded explanations better. She loved seeing him like this – tittering with excitement about what interested him – and she couldn’t bring herself to interrupt his cascade of babble to explain it to her further.

Viktor propped himself on his knees in his chair’s seat, and used his new height to leverage the last metal prong deep into the pumpkin. He sat back on his heels and drew the base with the chem-bulb closer to him. With his tongue poking out from between his teeth, his fingers pressed a large, flat button on the workface repeatedly. He had to prime the circuitry, he explained.

Silco placed a steaming mug in front of Katya. She thanked him, and they watched as the button’s give stiffened under Viktor’s fingers. Satisfied, he nodded to himself and pinched his fingers around the switch on the bulb’s opposite side.

“Silco, can you turn off the lights, please?” Viktor asked, his amber eyes wide with excitement as they flicked between the pumpkin and the chem-light.

Obligingly, Silco stepped away from his spot behind Katya’s chair and hit the light switch on the wall. The apartment went dark, save for the distant, eerie glow of the neon lights out on the streets.

“Ready?” Viktor called, his voice vibrating with anticipation.

“Ready,” Katya replied.

“Ready,” followed Silco.

“Okay,” Viktor muttered and he blew a nervous exhale through his lips.

He flipped the switch and held his breath. When the bulb remained dark, his stomach dipped in embarrassment and his heart pattered. Then it began. The coiled filaments within the globe started to glow and the distinct hum of electricity sang within the glass.

Viktor gasped and whooped when the light grew steadily brighter, washing the small space around the table in warm, flickering light. It wasn’t bright enough to properly light the apartment, but it was enough to highlight Viktor’s unbridled joy. Katya smiled warmly and rested her head in her hand as her brother launched into further elucidations as to why the pumpkin was able to power the chem-light.

When his attention was focused on explaining the wires attached to the gourd, Katya’s eyes drifted over to Silco, who was still leaning against the wall by the light switch. She smiled at him and mouthed ‘thank you’. Silco smiled back and shrugged before stepping over to the table to take up the seat between sister and brother.

In the dim wash of the pumpkin-powered light, Viktor carried on, skinny arms gesticulating wildly and bobbling in his seat. Silco’s hand slide in the pumpkin’s shadow and found Katya’s. The pair entwined their fingers and took in the rest of the lecture.

Notes: I don't think pumpkins can work the same way potatoes do in generating energy for a light bulb, but Viktor's a genius so I'm sure his science is sound.

Thank you for reading and indulging me in this cute AU. If you enjoyed, please comment/reblog! Have a lovely weekend my dears!!!

#AAAAAAAAAAAAAA #🥺🥺🥺#it’s too cute i’m going to explode #THE KISS #THE GENTLENESS #THE CASUAL DISPLAYS OF AFFECTION #SILCO GETTING ALONG WITH VIKTOR #kiki this is criminally adorable #like i genuinely have butterflies #AND THE DRAWING #the talent is unreal #beautiful work #i loved this so much <3

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ace-of-zaun · 4 months

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Little update

Hello lovely people,

I hope you’re all doing okay!

Just a little update on stuffs, (I know I never do these but I feel like I have a few things I need to explain).

(tw: health talk, medical talk, mental health, op being inherently annoying)

So, I’m really struggling at the moment. My physical health is not great and my mental health is even worse.

I won’t list everything, but one of the biggest things I wanted to mention (bc it affects writing and drawing stuffs) is that I dislocated and now have tendonitis in both my thumbs, so typing is incredibly difficult for me at the moment. I can’t really walk very well either and I’ve just had an awful sickness bug, so as you can imagine, I’m feeling pretty low and anxious.

If you have sent me a message or left me a comment, I apologise deeply for not being able to reply just yet (I struggle with replies anyway, but please know I am trying my best). I genuinely appreciate every single message and I will try my best to get back to you soon.

I also wanted to say that nothing writing-wise is abandoned. I know I take forever to write anyway so I genuinely feel awful that it’s taking me even longer at the moment because of my health.

But none of the multi-chapters or requests I’ve started are abandoned, and I have so many new WIP ideas, so if you still love Silco just as much as I do, please be reassured that I will continue writing for him. (I am actively trying to work on things, it just might be a little slow at the moment.)

Also, I’m fairly close to a followers milestone so I thought I might do a little poll soon so people can choose what they’d like to see. There’s a whole range of ideas I’ve either started or planned out, including fluff, angst, crack treated seriously, and a whole new multi-chapter series!

Anyway, I hope you’re all having a lovely holiday season and I hope to deliver some more Silco content asap!

Lots of love, el x

(tl;dr - i'm sick, i'm slow, but i'm still a sucker for silco (and i'm still writing for him))

#update

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ace-of-zaun · 6 months

Note

I dont know if it was intentional but my HEART hurt even more with the dialogue parallels to Powder in Dont Go?? “Dont leave me”, “i need you”?? Sorry I love both Silco and Jinx/Powder as characters so I’m always drawing parallels and thinking about their dynamic :’) great work!

aaaaa that was genuinely a coincidence! It’s been so long since I last watched Arcane, I’d completely forgotten that’s what Powder said!!

Don’t worry, I also enjoy comparing Jinx and Silco, they’re both such an interesting duo! It reminds me of this post I really liked about Jinx being forged in fire and Silco being forged in water. It's such a beautiful analysis of their characters, much more succinct than I could ever be!

Thank you so much! And thank you for your message!! I hope you’re having a lovely day ❤️

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ace-of-zaun · 6 months

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Last Line Challenge

Tagged by: @medic-simp and @nyx--knacks (Thank you!! 🥰 I loved both of your excerpts, I’m looking forward to reading them in full!)

I’m currently in planning mode so there’s not many actual lines written, but here’s a potential line of dialogue from PDD pt 10:

“Tell Silco I’d rather gargle water from the River Pilt and spit it in his face.”

…😈

Tagging: @kikiiswashere (no pressure though!! ❤️) and anyone else who would like to play!!

#tag game

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ace-of-zaun · 6 months

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Don't Go (One-shot):

young!silco x gn!reader - 3.6k words - SFW

cw: angst, fluff, breakup conversations, happy ending, reconciliation, arguments, silco struggling with his emotions, little bit possessive, soft silco, suggestive ending (this one is pretty angsty but don’t worry, it all works out in the end!)

summary: Silco, your long time boyfriend, does something you’d begged him not to, so you regretfully decide that you need a break from him. Silco has other plans.

You didn't want to go. Not really.

But after Vander’s revelation, you felt like you had no choice.

Silco had been all fired up the night before, ranting and raving about his latest (and quite frankly terrible) plan of breaking into the Sheriff’s office Topside to gain information about any upcoming raids in your neighbourhood.

The surprise Enforcer raids had been hitting businesses across Zaun at random, an M.O of storming in and ransacking each place with no clear means or motive, and definitely without any warning.

Understandably then, Vander, Silco, and you had been particularly concerned that a raid would hit The Last Drop any day now, and despite every effort to hide anything that could give you away, there was a real fear that your revolutionary group would be discovered and brutally dismantled.

But the idea of breaking into the Sheriff’s office of all places was beyond dangerous and to your frustration, you just couldn’t get Silco to listen to reason.

You’d pleaded with him not to do something so risky. You’d tried to calm down, told him to just wait until you could all discuss it together as a group and come up with a plan that wasn’t so grandiose, and in your view, completely and utterly stupid.

Eventually, Silco had gotten frustrated and rolled his eyes, grumbling that he wouldn’t go as he’d slunk off downstairs to no doubt drink the night away in the bar.

This morning you’d woken with him fast asleep by the side of you in bed and, assuming he’d wasted the evening drinking himself dry, you thought nothing of it until later this afternoon when you’d found out the truth from Vander.

Silco had gone Topside to scout out the building that housed the Sheriff’s office.

Vander had desperately tried to reassure you that Silco wouldn’t have done anything stupid but it had done absolutely nothing to douse the flames of anger and hurt spreading through you.

The damage was done.

Now, salty tears finally drying on your cheeks, you stand in your shared bedroom packing your belongings into the rucksack laid out on your bed.

Silco is still out running errands so there's a note placed carefully on the desk in your bedroom. It's not ideal, but it's for the best.

However cowardly it makes you feel to reduce your breakup to a measly note, you're too emotionally drained to even think about having another argument with him.

You just can’t deal with it right now.

Planning to stay with a friend until you found somewhere you could afford by yourself, you convince yourself that if he truly wants you back, if he truly wants to fix things, he’ll come and find you.

You’ve already packed the easy things, like most of your clothes and your toiletries from the bathroom. The real challenge now it would seem is the more sentimental items, like the pile of gifts currently lined up on the bed that you’d received from Silco over the years.

The little toy poro he'd scrimped and saved to buy you for your birthday that one year. Or the matching sunglasses he'd stolen as a little souvenir from your third date.

As you stare down at the gifts on the bed wondering if you’ll have enough room to bring them all, the door opens behind you.

You freeze, knowing exactly who it is before he’s even spoken.

"There you are," Silco announces, his voice clearly tired but still laced with a hint of relief. "Vander said you were-"

He cuts himself off as he undoubtedly takes in the state of the bedroom before speaking again in a tone of pure shock.

"What are you doing?"

You can’t bring yourself to answer so instead busy yourself with shoving all of the gifts into your bag before he can see them.

"No," he breathes out from the doorway as it dawns on him.

It sends a horrible pang of hurt ringing in your chest, only made worse when he pleadingly says your name.

"Please don't do this."

"I have to, Silco," you sigh, trying to keep your heart as closed off as you can. It hurts enough as it is without you letting your emotions run wild.

"You don't,” he says. “You don't have to."

You stop answering because you can tell this particular line of conversation will just go in circles.

Behind you, he shuts the door with a click and it irritates you into shoving more into the bag, no longer caring about being neat or if you should leave anything behind.

"Is this because of what happened last week? I already told you that wasn't my fault," Silco continues when you don’t respond or turn to face him.

He's referring to the incident where he almost got shot after taunting some enforcers for no good reason.

Truth be told, that incident had absolutely terrified you, but it was just one of the many reasons why you couldn’t keep doing this.

"No, it isn't because of that," you say flatly.

"Then why?"

You finally turn to look at him, the first time since he’d left the bar this morning. (He looks gorgeous and like he's on the verge of heartbreak and you hate that you still love him despite it all.)

"Where did you go last night?" you ask flatly, looking him square in the eyes.

As expected his expression instantly turns stony, but after years of learning and reading his tells, you can see the twitches of regret in his eyes.

A few beats of silence pass and you know he’s too stubborn to admit it out loud.

Your response is quiet. Resigned.

"That's why."

Turning back round to face the bed, you begin to shove down all your belongings as far down into the bag as they can go, making sure you have enough room for the last bits that you know are in the wardrobe.

"Look, I'm sorry for doing it behind your back, but I had to go," he starts, and it feels like the beginning of the heated argument that you were so desperately hoping to avoid.

Your cool facade broken, you whirl round to face him straight on, built-up ire finally pouring out of you in reams.

"No, you didn't have to go! You went because you wanted to and you went even though I asked you- no, begged you not to," you yell at him.

He flinches minutely at the sudden raise in volume, but keeps his own voice calm and steady when he crafts his response.

"You don't understand, this is important," he emphasises. "They cannot find out what we’re doing to fight against them, not when we’re this close to finally having the lives we deserve, that all of us deserve.”

It takes all your strength not to give in to his words and continue the argument with an incredulous scoff.

As if you don’t know all that. As if you didn’t spend your days fighting for Zaun as well.

As if you didn’t fight every second for him.

You shut it down immediately, twisting back round to face the bed.

"I'm not doing this," you say blankly.

"What?" he replies, clearly stunned.

"I'm not arguing with you, Silco. I'm leaving."

It breaks your heart to say it, but in this moment, you see no other way forward. Not if he’s going to keep on like this.

Silco says nothing as you pack away the rest of your belongings into your bag, briefly recalling that you still have a few last bits in the wardrobe. You're almost certain that his anger is charging up in the silence, readying himself to launch into a whole speech about how wrong you are.

But when he does speak again, the sound of his choked-up voice feels like a shot directly to your heart.

"You can't leave."

Your heart sinks into your stomach and everything within you practically screams to cross the room and hug him, but you know that if you even look at him you’ll end up changing your mind. So, you move over to the wardrobe instead and pull open the doors to ensure he’s not in your line of sight.

Silco says your name in that horribly soft timbre he only uses when he’s desperate and even though it pretty much tears you apart to ignore him, you focus on pulling the rest of your clothes from the closet.

He speaks your name again, this time even more desperately and you suddenly find yourself biting back tears.

Fuck, why did he have to come home early? Why couldn't you just have some time to grieve by yourself?

"Silco, it's over," you bite out, just wanting this horrible situation to be done with so you can work on healing.

Finally moving into the room, you hear his footsteps creak on the old wooden floorboards behind you.

You brace yourself for him to take your hand or wrap his arms around you but to your confusion, his footsteps halt in the centre of the room and you hear an unexpected rustling sound instead.

Spinning around, you find Silco holding your backpack upside down in the air, emptying the contents back onto the bed with vigorous shakes. Your belongings drop onto the sheets in a crumpled mess, undoing all your work to get them all into the rucksack.

Silco glares at the bag with tight-lipped hatred, as if it’s the reason you’re leaving, the longer strands of his hair falling down and bouncing with each rough movement of his arms.

You stare at him in disbelief, your jaw slack until you find the words to confront him.

"What the fuck, Silco? Put them back!"

He grips the bag even tighter.

"No."

And just like that, your astonishment slides into anger.

"Silco," you warn, eyes narrowing dangerously. "Put. Them. Back."

"Not if it means you'll stay," he replies obstinately.

He continues to shake the bag but, ever the impatient boy, gets too frustrated and decides to drop the bag onto the bed. Rapidly taking out handfuls of your belongings until the backpack is empty, he then throws it at the wall furthest from you with a grunt.

Silco’s gaze slides to look at you from across the room and you both stare at each other breathlessly, chests borderline heaving.

A clear challenge.

Unfortunately for Silco, you can be stubborn too.

Without another word, you reach into the wardrobe and pull out his backpack, moving over to the other side of the bed to restart your packing.

This time, Silco rushes around the bed to you and tries to grab your hand, but you pull it away, taking a step back.

"Just stop-"

"Please don't leave me," he pleads in the most heartbreaking, riven timbre you’ve ever heard him speak in and your heart wrenches.

He sounds like the little boy you’d met all that time ago in those dark mines, the one who was so desperate to no longer be alone.

"I'll do anything, I can't do this without you," he begs.

"Do what without me?"

"Any of it," he blurts out, running a distressed hand through his hair. "Some days, the only thing that gets me through the day is knowing that you'll be here when I get home."

Your insides jolt at such a vulnerable confession from such a headstrong man, but it’s nothing compared to the feeling you get when he suddenly drops to one knee in front of you, taking one of your hands in both of his.

Heart racing ten to the dozen, you watch in horror as he glances up at you.

He’d better not be doing what you think he’s doing…

"Silco-"

"I love you," he says. "I love you more than anything in the world."

You watch as tears line his lashes and soon find yourself matching.

Fuck, you were expecting yelling and anger, not this.

You’ve never seen him like this before.

"Please," he repeats and it cracks your mask in two.

Your knees give out and you let yourself sink down onto the floor with him.

Silco immediately throws his arms around you, only just stopping you from falling back with how quickly he presses his body against yours, burying his head in the crook of your neck.

On instinct, you wrap your arms around his frame, one hand rubbing his back whilst the other cards through his inky strands as he rocks you gently from side to side.

Little whispers of “Don't go,” and “I need you,” are mumbled into your hair, and you’re almost certain the wetness on your neck is from those tears that had been threatening to break free. You kindly decide not to mention it.

Eventually, you sigh and rest your forehead on his shoulder, squeezing your eyes shut in a pitiful attempt to ease the difficult conversation up ahead.

"Sil, I can't keep doing this."

He sniffles a little and pulls back to look at you but doesn’t let go. (He never lets go.)

"Doing what?" he asks, brows furrowing in that cute little way he does when he’s confused about something.

"Watching you destroy yourself."

"I'm not-"

"You are, Silco, and it's hurting me," you enunciate, holding his cheeks to force his gaze on you. He needs to understand how serious you are about this.

The horrified expression on his face instinctively causes you to brush some of his hair back tenderly while he processes your words.

"I want a better Zaun too, but not at the cost of you sacrificing yourself," you continue, keeping your voice quiet but firm.

He’s clearly overwhelmed, seafoam eyes so wide and trenched in deep-rooted panic. But with a lack of response to distract you, you’re forced to take notice of the pain spreading through your back and legs at the awkward sitting position you’re in.

You shift your body, pulling away from him to situate yourself in a comfier position, but the second you loosen your arms from his thin frame, his hand desperately grip you even tighter, clutching onto you like a child to their mother’s leg.

"No, I-"

"I'm not going anywhere, I just need to move before my legs go numb," you’re quick to reassure him.

At this, Silco relaxes slightly, allowing you to move so your back is resting against the side of the bed. His fingers clasp onto your shirt the entire time and the very second you’re planted in a spot that doesn’t completely ruin your spine, he pulls you against him once more.

"What- What can I do to make you stay?" he says between a harsh swallow.

You sigh, swiping a hand across your face tiredly.

"I need you to stop this ridiculous crusade you're on. Or," you add when he goes to protest, "at the very least, include the rest of us in it."

He bites the inside of his lip and entwines his fingers with yours.

"You can't keep making reckless decisions by yourself, Sil. It affects all of us. Especially me."

Silco keeps quiet for a few moments, so you give him time to think while his thumb rhythmically traces your knuckles back and forth.

This can’t be easy for him. He’s pretty independent by nature (most Undercity kids are), but Silco is especially so when it comes to the fight for Zaun’s freedom.

But if he wants you to stay, you’re going to need some compromise.

"Okay," he eventually says, breaking the silence to gaze at you with muted hope.

You’re not letting him off that easily.

"Okay what?" you say expectantly.

He sighs and suddenly he’s transformed into that petulant little boy again.

"Okay, I'll run things by you and Vander before making any big decisions," Silco heaves, like it physically pains him to say.

"And?" you prompt with a raised eyebrow.

Silco stares at you with a look of disbelief, but his lip is curled in clear disgust.

"There's no way I'm running anything by Benzo," he scoffs. "It'd be more useful talking to a brick wall."

You slap his arm half heartedly and bite back a laugh.

"No! I meant, are you going to stop throwing yourself into stupid situations for no reason?"

"I knew you were still upset about last week," Silco replies, a knowing expression melting across his features.

"Of course I'm upset about it! They almost shot you!" you fire back with indignation.

As if you wouldn’t be horrified at the idea of your boyfriend getting seriously hurt and potentially arrested just for being an idiot.

Silco gently combs his fingers through your hair, eyes tracing your features as that smug little smirk you secretly adore colours his lips.

"The key word in that sentence is almost, my lovely."

The glare you level him with is met by a crooked grin, but it’s soon wiped off his face when you jab his stomach with your elbow, ignoring the “Oof,” in favour of cuddling up to him even closer.

Silco lets out a sigh of relief and rests his head against yours whilst one hand sneaks up behind you to surreptitiously wipe his eyes dry with his sleeve.

You allow yourself to relax for a few quiet moments, slowly calming each other down with soft touches until your breathing syncs up with the boy holding you close to his chest.

Silco soon murmurs into your hair, hand smoothing along your waist.

"So you'll stay?"

"Yes, I'll stay," you reply softly, nestling into the crook of his neck.

It’s seemingly not enough to soothe his nerves because he leans back and tilts your chin up with one finger until you meet his anxious gaze.

"You promise?"

"I promise, Silco."

Relief melts through his whole body, but with it brings a cool wash of physical and emotional exhaustion that you wish you could wipe clean.

"You know you can always talk to me, right?” you tell him gently, pinky finger delicately tracing along one eyebrow until the lines of his face relax. “I know you're always so busy trying to keep us afloat but you don't have to do it all alone. You can tell me when things are bothering you, it doesn’t make you weak or ‘less of a man’."

He gazes at you in profound wonder before lightly cupping one side of your face with his hand.

"I really do love you," he whispers, tenderly tracing one thumb down your cheek.

It feels like the weight of your near-breakup is lifted off your shoulders when you finally say it back.

"I love you too, Sil."

He leans down to kiss your head and you find yourself desperately hoping that he keeps his promise. You never want to have to go through this again.

But for now, graced with another chance to stay with the only person you’ve ever loved, you focus on the present, needing to change the heavy atmosphere stifling the room. Your tone shifts into a light, coy thing that immediately grabs his attention.

"You know, if you hadn't rushed in all guns blazing last night you'd have had the chance to listen to my plan for getting the info we need," you tell him. "Y'know, one that wouldn't get you thrown in Stillwater."

Silco stares at you with a frown and you struggle to keep in the smile that threatens to break.

"What plan?"

"The one where I seduce a poor, unsuspecting enforcer and use a bit of good old-fashioned lip service to get what we need," you say coquettishly, batting your eyelashes at him innocently despite the clear innuendo lacing your words.

Instantly, (brilliantly), his seafoam eyes darken with a delicious combination of jealousy and lust, sending a spark of hot desire through your body.

"Not in a million years," he says gruffly, pulling you even closer to him.

You twirl a playful finger through your hair.

"I don't know, I think it's a great plan if you ask me," you reply with an air of teasing nonchalance.

"I wouldn't let you anywhere near them,” his grip tightens on the fabric by your waist. “You're mine.”

Leaning forward, you whisper in his ear, knowing exactly what it does to him.

"Prove it."

There’s a beat of electrified silence before Silco abruptly stands, pulling you up with him until you’re both on your feet.

He smoothly coils one arm around your waist, the other snaking around the nape of your neck until his lips hover tantalisingly above yours. And just when you think he’s about to finally close the gap, he pauses.

You frown, chest flooding with anxiety that you’ve done something wrong, or he’s changed his mind, or-

Silco removes the hand resting behind your head and before you can voice your concerns, he suddenly grabs the bed sheet, ripping it off the bed in a move that sends the mess of your once-packed belongings tumbling to the floor in a cacophony.

"Silco!" you admonish him, already envisioning the amount of time and effort it would take to pick everything up and put it back in its rightful place.

"What?” he says, like butter wouldn’t melt. “We can put it back in the morning."

Then, he swiftly picks you up and tosses you onto the mattress, making you squeal in surprise.

Silco kneels onto the bed and climbs until his body is hovering over yours, arms caging you in as you heat up, warmth flooding downwards in anticipation.

"Now, I think it's time I make it up to you, sweetheart," he purrs, leaning down to hotly trace your ear with his lips. “I’m going to make sure you never want to leave this bed again.”

- A/N: don’t mind me, just casually obsessed with the idea of silco emptying out your bag to desperately stop you from leaving and then frenziedly trying to propose to you when he doesn’t know to deal with his emotions 💁‍♀️

#silco x reader #silco x you #silco x gn!reader #silco x f!reader #silco x m!reader #silco #silco fic #silco arcane #one shot

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