ace-of-zaun

[ace-of-zaun]

Kiss Me More. Pt 4:

silco x f!reader - 2.4k words - SFW

cw: fluff, angst, emotional hurt/comfort, break-ups, self-doubt, emotions, silco is a lovely boy

PART 1 | PART 2 | PART 3

-

Only a few days after Silco had crashed your date, Seven turns up at your work and invites you to a run-down café during your lunch break, where he rather efficiently ‘breaks up’ with you. 

It’s quite a curt speech, all in all. Very straight to the point and surprisingly only includes one, extremely cliché, it's not you it’s me, that he doesn’t even really sound that sorry about. 

You’re mostly too stunned by the sheer audacity to respond to a single word he says. 

And then, to add insult to injury, the lunch ends quite abruptly with Seven pushing back his chair with a scrape and exiting the café (conveniently forgetting to pay for the large lunch and three drinks he’d greedily consumed whilst talking), where he promptly begins to flirt with a girl playing the guitar on the other side of the street. 

You go back to work in a daze. 

Truthfully, you’re a little bit relieved that it’s finally over and that you weren’t the one to have to do the ‘breaking up’ in the end. 

But even though you never really liked him, and even though you think it won’t be enough if you never see his arrogant mug ever again, you still feel that inevitable ache of rejection. The kind which unfortunately hits you right in the middle of your afternoon shift at work, where you almost start blubbering on a customer who innocently asks if you have any vintage picnic baskets. (How could they be so insensitive, don’t they know you went on a picnic for your second date?!)

And after an agonising rest of the afternoon, hating everyone for carrying on as normal as if life isn’t just a cesspit of cruelty, you finally return home from work emotionally exhausted, and desperate to just crawl into bed and hide under the covers forever, until the end of time, please and thank you. 

Except, fate must have it in for you because the very second you make it through the front door, Silco is waiting for you on the sofa.

He jumps to his feet the moment he sees you, looking strangely nervous as he shuffles from one foot to the other. You close the door behind you slowly, eyeing him up like he’s a rabid bunny about to chomp at your ankles. 

It’s tempting to just make a run for it and never look back. But he’s clearly been waiting for you, made doubly obvious by the fact that Vander is watching from the kitchen doorway, leaning casually against the frame with his arms crossed. 

Silco says your name cautiously, drawing your gaze back to him. 

You blink at him slowly which he must take as his cue to start speaking.

"Hey, uh, look," he begins, fidgeting with the hem of his shirt, clearly struggling to make eye contact. "I just wanted to apologise for upsetting you the other day. And I didn't mean to imply that you would never be good enough for someone, of course I don't think that." 

"The opposite really…" he then mumbles under his breath.

Vander clears his throat loudly and Silco darts a glance over his shoulder at him. From this angle, you can’t see the face Silco pulls but you can clearly see the pointed look Vander gives him in return. 

Then, just as quickly, Silco swivels back round to face you before awkwardly adding, "And, uh, I'm sorry for crashing your date. It won't happen again. Promise." 

If you weren’t feeling so despondent, you’d have laughed at the irony. No, Silco, you definitely won’t be crashing any more dates. 

You take a deep breath, conscious of his poorly hidden apprehension while he waits for your response. 

"Well, thanks for the apology, Silco, but it really doesn't matter anymore," you say, finding it difficult to inject any kind of warmth or enthusiasm into your timbre. 

But instead of the look of relief you expected, you find yourself confused at the expression of absolute horror that suddenly paints itself across Silco’s face. 

"What." 

"He broke up with me," you clarify with a frown. 

You’re certain that the carousel of emotions that play out across Silco’s face would be thoroughly entertaining at any other time. Starting with pure surprise, that then shifts to guilty relief, before landing on a look that can only be described as torn. 

"Oh," he says, before his features finally, finally drop into concern. "Oh."

You’re not sure what prompts you to do it because it’s definitely not a conscious decision, but all of a sudden you find yourself walking silently to your bedroom like you’re stuck on tracks. You think Silco might call your name behind you, but you can’t respond, stuck in your own little bubble of despair.

And before you know it, you’re getting into bed and hugging a pillow to your body as you begin to cry. 

It’s all a confusing mess of pressure that sits right in your chest; the disappointment, and sense of abandonment, and that awful, desperate hope for a new chance at what you’d hoped might eventually become love. 

You have no idea how long you stay curled up in your bed, but at some point, the sobs  eventually recede into a quiet stream of tears, salting your cheeks. 

In fact, you’re only brought back to the real world when a knock sounds on your bedroom door. 

You ignore it, which only proves futile because a few seconds later the door pushes open anyway, revealing a fuzzy, tear-blurred Silco. 

You watch him silently, blinking the tears out of your sore eyes. Normally, you’d be shouting at him for not respecting your boundaries, but just now, you have no energy to do anything but sniffle and stare. 

"I brought you some tea," he announces, terribly, heart-breakingly soft.

Silco places the tray down on your bedside cabinet with a carefulness you rarely see from the lanky boy, much more accustomed to the rough, slightly clumsy way that he usually trips through life.

But when you finally get a glimpse of the tray, you find that he hasn’t just brought you tea, but also the small box of chocolates you’d spent months scrimping and saving for, just to give to him on his birthday.

Your heart pangs at the thoughtfulness and almost threatens to set you off crying again. 

"Those are yours," you croak out, throat sore and just that little bit swollen. 

His expression crumples into concern at the sound, but he manages to keep that soft, soothing timbre that’s held you together through countless bad nights at this point.

"You deserve them more than I do." 

Your bottom lip juts out in protest against the tears that begin to flow again, entirely without your permission. 

Silco carefully sits down on the edge of the mattress, reaching out with his thumb to gently brush the tears off your cheeks, one side then the other. 

You look up at him and there’s a moment where you wish you could become stuck in time, stay in this bittersweet moment forever, just the two of you. 

"I really am sorry," he murmurs.

"No, you're not," you mumble back, without heat. 

You’re not angry. Gods, you’re far too tired to even think about being angry right now. If anything, you’re just being honest. 

"Okay, well I'm not sorry that you're not seeing that scumbag anymore," he replies, and you can’t help but huff an amused breath through your nose at his candour. "But I am sorry for being an asshole,” he finishes. 

Then, his tone drops right back into that gentleness as he wipes the tears from your face once more. 

"And I'm sorry for making you cry.”

There’s a million things you could say to that, but none of them will really solve anything, so instead you just sniff once and shrug your shoulders the best you can whilst lying on your side, arms still wrapped tightly around your pillow. 

Besides, it wouldn’t be very accurate to say that you’re crying because of anything Silco said, or even because of Seven. 

If anything, if you really think about it, you’re mostly upset because you have a sneaking suspicion you’re in love with your best friend, and if that wasn’t confusing and overwhelming as it is, then you don’t even want to consider what would happen if he didn’t feel the same…

Oh, gods, what if he doesn’t feel the same?

Your expression crumples at the thought of Silco rejecting you, so you shove your face into your pillow as a fresh wave of sobs break through you. 

At this, Silco makes an upset noise from above you, lifting the covers and shuffling to lie next to you in bed. 

He wraps his arms around you, but with the pillow squishing between your bodies it just feels ridiculous, so you tug the pillow from your front and throw it over his shoulder, off the bed, closing the gap to hug him properly.

Silco’s arms engulf you like a lock fitting in a key, your face pressed into his sternum as your arms hug tight around his waist whilst he holds you to his body, one hand cradling the back of your head whilst the other strokes soothingly up and down your back. 

"I'm sorry, sweetheart," he whispers into your hair. "I'm really sorry." 

It takes a few more moments for you to stop sobbing, but you force yourself to push through it. You have to let him know that this isn’t what he thinks it is. 

"It's fine, Silco," you say through gulps of air. "I… I didn't really like him anyway." 

"You didn't?" he says, just a little bit too far on the side of hopeful as he delicately threads his fingers into your hair. 

"No. He was a dick,” you say bluntly. "And he… sometimes made me feel kind of uncomfortable.”

Part of you feels a little bit foolish for allowing yourself to spend so much time with such an insipid person. But this was only your first foray into the world of dating. Who can blame you for hoping it would all get better with time? 

Silco stiffens in your arms, pulling back just enough so that he can look you in the eye. 

"He what?" 

You're genuinely surprised at the venom in his tone. 

"I'm going to fucking kill him," he seethes, fingers tightening ever-so-slightly until he’s gripping the back of your shirt in his fingers. "Did he hurt you?" 

"No, no, nothing like that.” You’re quick to reassure him before he gets the wrong idea. "I just didn't really like it when he tried to kiss me or hold my hand. He was just a bit… I don’t know… gross?"

Silco calms down marginally, to your relief, but a layer of hurt still resides. 

"I can still kill him," he offers darkly. 

"Shut up, you idiot," you chide, but find yourself helpless to the smile that tugs at your lips. 

You pull him back into a proper hug to hide it. Honestly, the last thing this ridiculous boy needs is to be encouraged.

It’s comfortably quiet for a few minutes, and Silco returns to gently carding his fingers through your hair. This is how everything should be. This is how it should feel. 

"Do you think it was my fault?" you blurt out, entirely against your will. 

"What? No. None of it was your fault," Silco insists. "He was the one who messed you about." 

"No, not that, I mean…" you begin, trailing off until you can put it into words. "I just mean, it didn't feel like what I thought a relationship should feel like, you know?" 

Silco shuffles back slightly, close enough that you’re still holding onto one another, but far enough so that he can lay his head on the one remaining pillow you’re currently sharing. 

From here, you can see his emotion-tired expression, faces close like when you were little and Sil would climb into your bed after a particularly harrowing nightmare, telling you stories and nonsense ramblings until you eventually felt safe enough to go back to sleep. 

Except now, there’s something more. Something charged, connecting you in a way that is much deeper and much more rousing than when you were children. 

"How should it feel?" he asks, voice low. 

"I don't know…" you say, considering. "I think… I think you should feel comfortable with your partner, and not nervous all the time." 

He nods, ink hair slowly becoming messier against the pillow. 

"Like you're at home with them," Silco adds. 

"Yeah," you reply, surprised he understands you so well. "And you should want to be around them, not wishing they’d just leave you alone."

The little smile he gives spurs you on. 

"And- and when you kiss, it should feel like nothing or no-one else in the world exists in that moment. Like the only thing that matters is you and them."

Silco carefully tucks a piece of hair behind your ear, the pads of his fingers trailing softly down your jaw, as he looks at you in a way no-one ever has before.

"And you didn't feel any of that with him?" 

A brief pause, as you genuinely, truly contemplate it. 

"No." 

But I did with you. 

"Well, then. He clearly didn't deserve you if he didn’t make you feel any of that," Silco decides, with an air of finality. Like he’s putting Seven to rest. Done and dusted. 

“Yeah, I guess…” you say, cheeks burning a little pink at the compliment. It was probably unintentional, knowing Silco. 

But then, he says your name, expression turned serious, almost startlingly so. 

“Yeah?” you ask, slowly and nervously. 

Silco’s mouth opens for a moment before it falls shut again and he draws you into his embrace once more, hiding his face against the side of your neck. His warm breath tickles your skin and you can’t help but feel that this hug means something, something more than the previous ones did. 

You’re too scared of accidentally ruining the moment to ask.

The two of you lay in each other’s arms for a long while, long enough that you completely forget about the cup of tea steadily cooling on the bedside cabinet. Long enough that you slowly drift to sleep in his warmth, exhausted but for the first time in a long time, comfortable. 

Maybe if you can find a way to stay like this forever, everything will turn out alright. 

-

a/n: there’s no unrequited love in this house by the way, all will be well, reader’s just going through it a bit at the moment… and we would have gotten away with it if it weren’t for them meddling emotions!!!

-

super secret taglist 🤠: @oceansssblue , @inolaphoenix , @holographicgarden , @darlingimafangirl , @rainyforest777 , @kikiiswashere , @deviantgamergirl , @miffysoo , @eternallyvenus , @forcrybaby , @laurazuko6 , @kakashiislut , @aws4blood

[ace-of-zaun]

(2022) Silco from Arcane

[ace-of-zaun]

Kiss Me More. Pt 3:

silco x f!reader - 2.8k words - SFW

cw: angst, Silco being the most clueless mf to ever live (but he’s also a sweetheart, so we’ll forgive him just this once), fluff, Vander being lovely, mentions of poverty, arguments, references to sex, Seven is the actual worst, kind of an angsty end to the chapter (thought i'd mention it just in case)

PART 1 | PART 2 | PART 4

-

Silco has mentioned Seven and your date with him that many times in the past week, you’re genuinely starting to worry he’s got an unhealthy obsession with the boy. 

In fact, he’s brought it up so often, you can tell just by the way Silco takes a breath that he's going to start yet another rant about your situationship, prompting you to scuttle away from him the second he opens his mouth to speak. 

It doesn’t put you off going on your date. If anything, it makes you even more determined to push back against Silco and prove to him that you can do this, with or without his support.

So, you go on your second date with Seven. 

He’d somehow managed to visit you every single day at work following your first date, which caused a giddy, cherished sort of feeling the first two times it happened, but now kind of irritates you after eight consecutive days of it. 

Now, it just feels clingy and suffocating, and you’re getting slightly worried your boss is going to get mad at you for wasting time at work. 

Luckily, Seven hadn’t asked you to go swimming on your date, (or, skinny dipping, as Silco had told you was his actual meaning, approximately six thousand times). Instead, he’d walked you to one of the little piers overlooking the river, where you’d sat side by side and shared a simple picnic. 

It was nice. Mostly. 

Seven had pretty much just talked about himself the entire time (again), and had even interrupted you the one time you tried to tell him about the new vinyl you’d excitedly bought on sale at the market. (So what if you can’t play it or listen to it just yet, Seven, you’ll be able to afford a phonograph one day, and you can just admire the sleeve artwork until then!)

Towards the end of the date, he’d finally kissed you, softer than you were expecting after the bold way he’d previously tried to kiss you outside your apartment.

But there hadn’t been any butterflies, or that wonderful, little spark you’ve often heard people describing when they speak of their first kisses. (Kinda, sorta like the way you felt when you’d kissed Silco…)

Kissing Seven, you hadn’t really felt anything at all, except, slightly icky and a little bit disappointed.

So now, you arrive home from the pier on your own (Seven had apparently been too busy to walk you back this time) with a strange sort of empty feeling emanating from your chest. Like someone has stolen a couple of your ribs while you weren’t looking. 

But a warm sense of relief and delight quickly replaces that feeling when you spot Vander sprawled out on the sofa, arms spread out across the back, head tilted up to the ceiling. 

It’s rare to see him at home, what with his long hours down the mine and evenings tending the bar. And it shows. Tired eyes and limbs betraying just how shattered he must be after all those hours of work. 

You’re desperate to tell him to give up the extra shifts at the bar. But you’re genuinely not sure if the three of you would be able to stay together without it. Maybe you should ask if you could pick up some of his shifts instead, give him a few nights off. Janna knows he deserves it.

Vander looks up when you gently click the front door closed, sitting up properly while you toe off your shoes to join the line along the wall. 

“Hey, you’re home,” you say. 

“I am,” he replies, easy smile to mask his exhaustion. “How was your date?”

Part of you had hoped he’d forgotten so you wouldn’t have to talk about it. But Vander’s far too thoughtful for that. 

“Ah, you know…” you say, looking down at your feet bashfully. 

“That bad?”

“I wouldn't say bad.” You sigh, dropping down next to him on the sofa.

You rest your head against his shoulder, tucking your feet under your legs in an attempt to get comfortable. Vander places his arm around your shoulder and gently pulls you towards him, until you’re leaning against his side.

You’ve always secretly thought of him as your wise, older brother. The one who always knows what to say and how to say it. The person you can always rely on.

"But not good?" he asks, genuinely. 

This time, the sigh you give feels like it radiates from your whole body. 

“It’s just…I didn’t expect any of it to feel like this, I thought I was supposed to feel…”

You don’t really know, to be honest. You’ve only ever heard people describe their experiences with love or dating, so you’re not completely sure what you’re supposed to feel. 

But something deep down is telling you, ‘not like this’.

“Feel what, lass?” Vander prods gently. 

“I don’t know,” you finally admit. 

Van nods in understanding, gently tapping your bicep twice before rubbing up and down your arm soothingly. 

“Maybe you just need a bit more time to get to know him,” he says, offering you the advice you’d been too nervous to ask for. “D’ya think you’ll see him again?”

You tilt your head to the side, worrying your lip with your pointer finger and thumb. 

“He asked me to go on another date with him tomorrow,” you say, pushing down the fact it feels like a shameful confession. “I said yes but-”

And then Silco storms into the room, looking like he’s spitting nails. 

“You're not seriously going on another date with that greasy-haired freak?" he demands, apropos of absolutely nothing. 

Immediately, you push yourself from Vander’s embrace to sit up and glare at him. Trust Silco to ruin the nice moment you were having. 

“Seriously, what have you got against him?”

Silco ignores you, clearly on a rampage that could only be fuelled by pure insanity. 

“You can't go on another date with him,” he announces firmly. 

"What? Why?" 

You wait, with a truly impressive amount of patience if you do say so yourself, for Silco to explain himself. To present his infallible, incredibly coherent, astonishingly well-thought out argument as to why you can’t go on another date with the person you are currently dating. 

"Because he's gross,” he says. 

You could really, honestly smack him. 

"No, he's not." 

"I don't think you should see him anymore," he continues. 

“Silco. I’m not a child, you can’t just tell me what to do,” you say, feeling the anger beginning to bubble away inside you. Silco knows exactly how to push your buttons and he knows it. 

“Yes, I can,” he argues, arms crossed against his chest. 

You narrow your eyes dangerously. 

“No, you can’t.” 

“Alright, that’s enough, you two,” Vander interrupts before one of you tackles the other and turns the argument into a childish scrap in the middle of the room.

Sil huffs dramatically and uncrosses his arms. Then, clearly not knowing what to do with them as they hang awkwardly by his side, he decides to cross them again. 

“Fine. I wasn't going to say anything, but I spoke to a guy at the mines who knows him and he's… got a bit of a reputation."

"What do you mean, ‘reputation’?"

"I mean, he's dated just about every girl in the Undercity," Silco stresses.

You frown at this new information, but honestly, deep down, you don’t really care. Even the mental image of Seven kissing other people doesn’t spark that jealousy in you that it did when you’d pictured Silco experiencing his first kiss. 

But admitting that to him feels like defeat so instead you say, "Well, maybe he just hasn't found the one yet." 

Silco scoffs obnoxiously.

"What, and you think you're the one?" he says sarcastically. His tone is a little bit on the mean side. Like he’s implying that you’re not good enough for Seven.

And honestly, it stings. It hurts and it makes you angry. You thought after all these years that Silco cared about you, that he wanted the best for you. 

But all he’s done for the past few weeks is question you constantly when all you needed was just a little support from your best friend.

And, gods, you know that you don’t really mean any of it, but there’s a burning, horrible impulse to hurt Silco like he’s been hurting you, so you stand up to face him square on.

"And what if I am, huh?” you begin.

Of course, Silco immediately goes to interrupt, but you steamroll ahead. 

“You know what, Silco, maybe I’ll just go and stay with him if you’re that wound up about it. Actually, yeah.” You purse your lips and shrug your shoulders nonchalantly, before looking him dead in the eye. “No need to wait up for me after my date tomorrow, I’ll just stay at his for the night.”

Silco looks absolutely horrified, face draining at the implication (that you don’t mean at all, honestly, you can’t think of anything worse than spending the night with Seven). 

But Silco doesn’t have to know that.

He steps forward a little and says your name, really quite desperately.

“Wait-”

There’s no way you’re letting him get the last word, so you stalk out the living room and into your bedroom without a backward glance, slamming the door shut behind you for good measure.

You drop onto your bed, desperately trying not to cry as you slap your hands over your face, like it’ll hold everything in. 

You just don’t get why Silco is acting like this. 

And the more time you spend with Seven, the more sure you are that he’s actually quite a repulsive, self-centered person. But you don’t know how to fix any of this mess you’ve gotten yourself into and all you really want is your best friend back. 

You just want everything to go back to the way it was.

Is that too much to ask? 

-

You haven’t spoken a word to Silco since your argument. Even after Vander had carefully explained that Silco probably didn’t mean what he’d said, you don’t want to hear it. The hurt is still too raw to forgive him yet. 

Everything has changed since you kissed. Now, your heart does this breathtaking little flip in your chest every time you see him, and all you can think about is kissing him again. But you're dating Seven and it's not like Silco likes you anyway, so there’s no point in entertaining it. 

Gods, you wish you could just stop feeling like this. 

You force yourself to go on another date with Seven, even though you had originally been planning on cancelling when you were talking about it to Vander. Now, you’re going just to spite Silco. 

So that’s how you find yourself walking through the city’s sprawling market stalls with Seven, kinda wishing you were anywhere else. You’re not really buying any of the products for sale because neither of you can afford much of anything at the moment, which just makes you feel all deflated. 

And Seven is holding your hand as you stroll along, but honestly, you wish he wasn’t. His hands are a bit sweaty and he’s gripping your knuckles just a bit too tightly for comfort. You have to keep letting go to wipe your hand on your leg and it’s starting to get really quite embarrassing. 

Just as you’re on the cusp of deciding whether to fake some kind of horrific illness or whether it’d be too dramatic to just flee Zaun and adopt a whole new identity, you’re saved by a tall figure stumbling into your side.

You only just manage to stop yourself from tripping to the ground, thankfully righting yourself before you can fall, just to look up in confusion at-

Silco. Who looks down at you with the most unapologetic expression you’ve ever seen in your life.

It’s clear he’s followed you because why else would he be in the market, he hates the market when it’s busy. He once said he’d rather run naked through the streets of Piltover in front of the Council building than risk the ‘throngs of dawdling idiots’ on a busy market day. 

"Hey, fancy bumping into you!” Silco acts surprised, completely over the top and almost embarrassingly unconvincing. He’s not getting a job in the Piltie theatre anytime soon, that’s for sure. 

Then, his expression drops when he glances at Seven, like there’s suddenly a bitter, bitter taste in his mouth. “Oh. What’s he doing here?”

You resist the urge to scream, finally letting go of Seven’s hand to step away from him.

"Silco-" 

"We're on a date." Seven finally speaks, looking thoroughly annoyed at the interruption. Even more annoyed than when Silco was rude to him outside your apartment. 

"Really?" Silco questions. He looks pointedly at the distance between the two of you and then stares obstinately at Seven. "Doesn't look like it to me." 

"Look, mate-" 

Silco cuts him off with deadly sharp precision. 

"You know, Six, I think we have a mutual acquaintance," he says, timbre turning positively dangerous. "Her name’s Lia. Works at the mines? That ring any bells in your dense, little head?" 

At this, Seven’s face pales. Rapidly. 

"Never heard of her," he insists, far too quickly to be anything but a lie. 

Then, he turns to you, snatching up your hand again. 

"Let's go, doll, we don’t have to put up with this." 

Silco’s expression darkens immeasurably, clenching his fists by his sides as he steps forward, but you beat him to the punch, ripping your hand out of Seven’s grasp. 

Fuck this. 

"You know what, I've just remembered that there's something that I need to do," you snap, borderline shouting over them when they both jump to speak. "Alone." 

Turning on your heel, you stalk off in the opposite direction, automatically heading towards the River without even really thinking about it. It’s the place you usually end up when you need to clear your head, and right now, you just need some peace and quiet.

You’re only a few streets away from the market when you hear Silco following you, knowing after all these years the loping strides of his gait by heart. When he makes no sign of stopping, you take a deep breath and turn to face him. 

"Please don’t." 

He says your name pleadingly but you shake your head. 

"I don't want to hear it, Silco," you say, a wave of exhaustion sweeping your bones.  

You’re far, far too tired for this.

"But he's-" 

"Why are you going out of your way to sabotage this for me?" you ask, absolutely detesting the way your voice wobbles on the last few words. 

Silco’s expression flickers, clearly torn between giving you space and stepping forward to comfort you. He ends up shoving his hands into his pockets defensively, but not without inching just that little bit closer to you. 

"I'm not trying to sabotage anything, I'm just trying to protect you," he replies, tone soft. An attempt at reassurance. 

"From what?" you ask.

"From getting hurt.”

He bites his lip, determined and desperately worried all at once. 

You sigh heavily, scrubbing a hand over your face.  

"I just don't get it, Sil, I don't get why you're doing all this," you say, letting your arms drop wearily by your side. 

He seems almost startled by your need for an explanation, uncharacteristically sheepish for the briefest moment as you watch him expectantly. 

"I… I just…" 

And then, as you continue to wait, his expression shutters, turning stony and closed off, and you know you’re not going to get anything from him now. Certainly not anything honest or in the least bit vulnerable. 

You bite your lip hard to stop the burning tears from falling. 

"Just go home, Silco," you say. You sniff back the tears, dejected but accepting. "I'll see you later.”

It breaks your heart to watch the way his shoulders slump but his expression still doesn’t crack. And he still doesn’t say a word when you slowly turn and walk away from him. He doesn’t stop you. 

The next few days feel like a haze of misery; a looping, unfathomable rhythm of going to work and returning home in silence, trying to ignore the way he watches you walk through the flat with a terribly lost expression, like you’ve slipped from his grasp.

You can’t bring yourself to talk to him, even though it physically hurts you to ignore him like this, the irony of not being able to talk to the one person who you can always go to. 

And with Vander gone so often, you’re left to just sit silently in your bedroom, staring at the cracks in the ceiling, wondering where the hell it all went wrong. 

PART 4

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a/n: I’m sorry for such an angsty end to this chapter, lots of fluff and comfort in the next one, i promise!! (and this story will def have a happy ending, i think i’m physically incapable of writing sad endings, it’s just not in my dna)

-

super secret taglist 😎: @oceansssblue, @inolaphoenix , @holographicgarden , @darlingimafangirl , @rainyforest777 , @kikiiswashere , @deviantgamergirl , @miffysoo , @eternallyvenus

[ace-of-zaun]

Please please please make part three of kiss me more! (I love your writing)

No rush though, please take your time. (Also happy new year)

Thank you!! I’m just about to post part three 😊 (Although, I will say that it is on the angstier side, so hopefully it won’t upset anybody!) 

And part four is nearly finished as well (which is much fluffier), so hopefully won’t be long before I can post that as well!

Happy New Year and I hope you’re having a lovely day <3

[ace-of-zaun]

No pressure whatsoever, you do you, but if you do end up updating Pas de Deux, my life is yours.

I will definitely be continuing with Pas de Deux - I’m currently trying to write the next two chapters, which is one of the reasons it’s taking a little bit longer, but I have no plans to abandon it (I will finish this fic if it’s the last thing I do!! 😅)

[ace-of-zaun]

Little Silco WIP since I'm still in my Arcane feels.

[ace-of-zaun]

QUEEN!!!!111 SEASON 2 IS OUT, FEED US PAS DE DEUX ALREADY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

aaaaaaa I promise I’m working on it! I’m trying to write the next two chapters so there’ll be more to feast on when they’re finally done! :D

[ace-of-zaun]

please LORDDD kiss me more is fantastic, will pay you to finish it

aaaaa thank you! I’m just about to upload another chapter and the one after that is well on the way to being done! <3

[ace-of-zaun]

Babe are u going to write 3 part of Intertwined? I'm starved of young silco and this story is amazing

Thank you, I’m really glad you like it! :D

I definitely want to finish Intertwined (it’s been on my to write list for so long!)

When I first planned the third chapter I wasn’t really very happy with it and couldn’t figure out how to fix it for so long, but I’ve just been looking at it again and think I might have some ideas on how to make it a bit better  I will try my best to write it for you and hopefully it’ll be a satisfying end to the fic! 🤞

[ace-of-zaun]

painting i did a while ago of silco's iconic window...because simping over the man was not enough i guess

also jinx got a hold of my easel i totally didn't spend a day painting it

[ace-of-zaun]

Hi! I just want to say that I discovered both your blog and your AO3 and your work is AMAZING!! I especially love Kiss Me More and Pas de Daux 🥺🫶 wishing you all the best and your work is amazing! 🫶

Hello! Aw, thank you so much, this made my day!! 

I’m really glad you enjoyed both of them, they’ve been some of my favourite to write so far (even though they’re both very different in tone and style!)

I hope you’re having a lovely day and thank you again <3

[ace-of-zaun]

Babe can u do some more young silco fic? I love your work and there is so little of him as young

Thank you!

And I’m definitely going to write more young Silco, I’ve got lots of little ideas written down for him, he’s just so fun to write! 😊

[ace-of-zaun]

Kiss Me More. pt 2:

silco x f!reader - 1.8k words - SFW

series summary: “Whatever, all I’m saying is, I can teach you how to kiss,” Silco insists, before adding just a little too nonchalantly, “You know, if you want to.”

cw: first dates, jealous silco, silco is a little shit, silco causing problems on purpose, mild angst, mild sexual references, fluff, friends to lovers, young silco

PART 1 | PART 3 | PART 4

-

One agonising, excruciatingly long week later and neither you nor Silco have mentioned the kiss again. In fact, Silco has been so weird, (well, weirder than he normally is anyhow) that you’re genuinely starting to worry you accidentally damaged some of his brain cells when you pulled on his hair. 

He holds himself all weirdly now, like he’s forgotten how sitting or standing works. And he stares and stares and stares at you, and then scowls when you look back or ask him what’s wrong. 

You even catch him just standing staring at your bedroom door one day, smack bang in the middle of the corridor, but when you question what he’s doing he just grunts at you and slams into his own bedroom, the tips of his ears flushed crimson.

This, frankly unhinged, behaviour continues right up until you’re leaving for your date with Seven. 

Vander, the wonderful, had said you looked lovely, and Silco, the prat, had just scowled at your outfit and crossed his arms in a huff.

Not wanting to spend the whole of your first ever date giving a rage-fuelled rant about your idiot best friend, you’d taken a deep breath and magnanimously chosen to just roll your eyes at him, instead of picking a fight. 

You can get him back later by unpicking the seams of his favourite shirt, anyway. That’ll show him. 

But as you’d looked over your shoulder to say goodbye to the boys, fingertips hanging loosely off the door handle, you’d caught Silco surreptitiously looking you up and down with a surprisingly soft look on his face. 

It had thrown you for a bit of a loop, the little motion and facial expression re-playing in your head over and over again as you’d walked through the streets of Zaun…

But then there’s no time to think of it anymore because you’re suddenly on your date with Seven - who you think you like. It’s a bit difficult to tell, honestly. 

The date goes well (you guess, you’ve never been on one before, so there’s nothing to really compare it to). He’d taken you to dinner at one of the local food stalls because the restaurants on The Promenade are far, far too expensive, but at least the food had been familiar. 

Plus, it was way nicer than any of Sil’s burnt, home-made meals… Probably. (Okay, maybe you’ve grown a little bit fond of them after all this time.)

You and Seven had talked for most of the date. And you’d gotten to know each other a little bit better. Well, you’d got to know Seven better; you didn’t really get much of a chance to talk about yourself, in between his monologues. 

And sure, you didn’t kiss, but he did hold your hand on the way home. 

Now, as you reach your apartment building, Seven insists on walking you up to your flat, even gesturing for you to climb the stairs before him with a sweep of his arm. And when you finally arrive outside your apartment door, he turns to you with a strange, smug look on his face. 

“Well, I suppose this brings an end to our evening,” he says, voice dropping in a way that you assume is meant to be seductive, but honestly just makes him sound like he needs a cough drop. “But there is one more thing I want to do before I leave.”

Before you even have a chance to respond, Seven is backing you up against the door, arms slithering around you until they rest low around your waist (a little too low if you’re being honest). An uncomfortable feeling settles in your chest but then he’s leaning down and lining his lips up with yours and-

Shit, this is it. He’s going to kiss you. 

You heave a sharp intake of breath and desperately try to remember everything Silco had told you during your little practice session, but it’s currently quite difficult to think properly when your heart is drumming in your chest and your hands are shaking. 

Of course, thinking about Silco must summon him because instead of feeling the sensation of lips on lips, you’re suddenly experiencing the sensation of falling, as the door opens behind you. 

Without the solid, wooden surface holding your upper back in place, you tip backwards with a squeal, only saved from falling flat on your arse by Seven tightening his arms around you and setting you back on your feet. 

Instantly, you want his suffocating arms off of you, so you subtly shove him away as you turn to face the culprit of the opening door. 

“Silco!”

“Hey, you’re back,” he announces, a little too casually. It doesn’t match his bizarre, half-amused, half-something-else expression at all. Or the death grip he has on the door frame. “Great, we need to change the bed sheets.” 

You almost sputter at the choice of phrasing. Not his bed sheets, the bed sheets, like there’s only one bed in the apartment, and needing to change them implies…

Before you can clarify, because you don’t want your date getting the wrong idea, Silco turns to look at Seven, eyes narrowing dangerously. 

Uh, oh. You know that look. That’s his ‘I’m going to make your life a fucking misery’ look. 

“Oh, who’s your little friend?” Silco asks, voice deceptively sweet. 

“Seven,” he responds, holding a hand out for Sil to shake, which he promptly ignores. “And you are?”

“Really, very busy right now, so if you’ll just excuse us.” Silco dismisses him, resting one hand on the small of your back as he tries to herd you through the doorway and into the flat. 

You squirm out of his grasp, annoyance levels rising until they’re practically reaching Piltover. 

“Silco, just get the stuff out the airing cupboard and I’ll be with you in a min-"

“It’s okay, baby girl, I’d best be going anyway.” Seven interrupts you, stepping even closer to you. His voice does that stuffy, flu thing again, and he acts like he’s speaking only to you, but it’s definitely loud enough for Silco to hear. “I had a great time this evening.”

“Me too.” You smile at him with tight lips, despite it being a bit of a lie. It just feels like it’s something you’re supposed to say at the end of a date. 

“I’d love to do it again sometime,” he continues, voice taking on an overly suggestive tone. “I’ll see you at the shop? We can arrange another date… maybe some late night swimming?”

You feel your face heat up at the thought, and it certainly doesn’t help that Silco is a foot away, burning a hole into the side of your skull. 

Janna, you really hope Seven doesn’t try to kiss you again in front of Sil, you think you might die of embarrassment. You pretend to scratch at your nose, subtly covering your mouth, just in case he tries again. 

“Uh, I'll see you later,” you say noncommittally. “Goodnight, Seven.”

Except, it doesn’t seem to work because he just grabs the hand covering your face and brings it up to his lips, pressing a rough kiss against your fingers. It’s an effort not to squirm. 

“Goodnight, princess,” he drawls, winking when you just stare at him.

Then, he finally notices the intense death stare Silco is sending his way, dropping your hand to shoot daggers back at your best friend before turning on his heel and sauntering down the stairs. 

With Seven gone, a weird sense of relief floods through you, but it quickly dissipates, leaving you with nothing but the urge to smack Silco round the back of his stupidly beautiful head. You don’t, though. 

Instead, you march back inside the flat, hackles raised as Silco closes the door behind you and leans back on it. He dusts his hands off with two wide sweeps up and down like the dramatic idiot he is. 

“And good riddance.”

Slowly, you turn to face him fully, carefully watching his eyes widen slightly in mild alarm. 

“What the hell was that?”

“What?” he asks, really, genuinely confused. 

You could throttle him. 

“That!” 

“I’m afraid I don’t quite know what you mean,” Silco replies. 

“You were so rude to him!” you explode. “And you…” 

You want to say that he implied that the two of you share a bed, but you can’t bring yourself to say it. Hell, you know your cheeks are absolutely burning at just the thought of it. (And not even just the usual things you think of when sharing a bed with someone, but even just the thought of waking up next to him, seeing him when he’s all relaxed and soft in the morning. It hurts to even picture it.)

“Yeah, well, I don’t like him.” Silco interrupts your runaway daydream. 

“Why? You don't even know him!” you protest. 

“I just don’t like the look of him.”

“Silco!" 

“What? I don’t think he’s right for you. I mean, did you hear him? I had a lovely evening, princess, why don’t we go skinny dipping for our next date, doll.” The mocking accent he puts on is far from flattering. “Ugh, what a slimeball.”

“He doesn’t even sound like that!” You don’t know why you even bother protesting, he’s clearly on a roll. 

“And what kind of a name is Seven, anyway? Do you think his parents hated him too? Do you think that’s why he’s such a prick?”

You sigh heavily. 

“I’m going to bed,” you announce, turning away from him to walk through the living room and towards your bedroom. 

Except you don’t get very far because Silco catches your hand and gently pulls you back to him, until you’re stood holding hands in the middle of the room. 

“Wait, I actually need your help making my bed,” he says, face and voice melting into something genuine (and irritatingly endearing). 

But not endearing enough after all the shit he’s been putting you through this last week. 

You pull your fingers out of his grip and slap at his hand when he tries to grab them again. 

“Get Vander to do it,” you snap, perhaps a little too harshly. 

“But he’s still at work!” He’s borderline pleading now. 

“Well, you’ll just have to sleep in dirty sheets then, won’t you?” You say, muttering a sardonic little, “Twat,” under your breath as you finally walk away. 

Predictably, Silco is in a massive sulk for a ridiculous amount of time after that.

He doesn’t even stop when you finally offer to help him change his bed sheets, watching him messily tucking the corners of the bed sheets under his threadbare mattress in silence, until you bat his hands away and show him how to do it properly (honestly, the boy is useless without you). 

By the end of the week, you decide that you just don’t understand him and probably never will. (It still doesn’t stop you from thinking about him every second of every day, though.)

-

PART 3

-

super secret taglist: @oceansssblue @inolaphoenix @holographicgarden

[ace-of-zaun]

kiss me more is so good omgggg T_T

aaaaa thank you so much!! I’m really glad you’re enjoying it so far <3 

it’s been rattling around in my brain for a little while now and I can’t wait to get stuck into the next few chapters

[ace-of-zaun]

Kiss Me More. Pt. 1

silco x f!reader - 4.1k words - SFW

summary: “Whatever, all I’m saying is, I can teach you how to kiss,” Silco insists, before adding just a little too nonchalantly, “You know, if you want to.”

cw: first kiss, practice kissing, mild angst, fluff, jealous silco, first love, falling in love, friends to lovers, soft silco my beloved, young silco

PART 2 | PART 3 | PART 4

-

You can always tell if Silco is home by the level of carnage that your living room is currently exuding. 

Honestly, it’s like the boy arrives home from work, stands smack-bang in the middle of the room, and shakes off all his belongings like a dog caught in the rain. In fact, you wouldn’t be surprised if he did exactly that.

Vander, on the other hand, is at least a little bit more tidy. A little bit less chaotic. 

For example, you can tell that Vander isn’t home right now because his shoes aren’t lined up neatly next to the door (unless, of course, he’s come home barefoot which has happened before).

But, you know for a fact that Silco is home because his backpack is currently strewn across the sofa, his coat is somehow hanging off the lamp, and his shoes are leading an obvious trail through the room; one behind the other, like some abstract art of an invisible man walking. 

Oh, and also because you can hear him loudly cooking dinner in the kitchen. 

“Sil, I’m home!” you call out, toeing your shoes off and pushing them up against the wall by the front door with your feet.

“Hey! Just making us something to eat!” he shouts back.

Setting down your bag next to your shoes, you allow yourself to drop just as heavily onto the sofa, only pausing once to chuck Silco’s bag over the back of it, just so you can laugh at him when he can’t find it later.

A long day at work means you’re that kind of tired where you can’t quite tell whether it’s your muscles that are aching or your bones themselves. 

You’re completely still - head resting back, eyes glazed at the ceiling… for approximately two seconds before you realise your foot is tapping anxiously against the floor. It’s not long before your whole leg is jiggling, nervous energy building up until-

“Hey, Silco?” 

“Yeah?” he calls back, still in the kitchen. 

“How do people know how to kiss? Like how are you supposed to know what to do?” you ask, both still shouting somewhat to hear one another. 

There’s a pause. Then an incredulous-

“What?”

You’re not quite sure if Silco didn’t understand the question or whether he just didn’t hear you properly, so you ignore him until he finally pops his head around the open doorway of the kitchen to look at you.

His jet hair is mussed and a little wavy, probably from running his hand through it too much, and there’s a little streak of coal dust on his jaw. The thought of getting up and gently wiping it away for him flits through your mind but is forgotten entirely when he clears his throat, startling you back to his expectant expression. 

“I said, what do you think is the proper way to kiss someone? You know, so it feels… uh, good and stuff?”

Silco screws up his face in confusion.

“What the fuck are you talking about?” 

You huff a breath of annoyance and tiredly run a hand through your hair.

“It’s just…” you begin, trailing off as embarrassment begins to heat your cheeks. But it’s only Silco. You’ve known each other for forever, so you power through in hopes of getting the answers you want. 

“It’s just that I’ve never kissed anybody before and I don’t want to mess it up.”

You’d been asked out on your very first proper date today and out of all the things you’re nervous about, kissing is, without a doubt, at the very top of that list. 

So what if people might think you’re a late bloomer - you’ve just never gotten round to it before! You’ve been far too busy working your arse off to make sure you and the boys could keep the home you’d all worked so hard to afford, let alone keep putting food on the table.

Plus, growing up and living with two ridiculous boys of your own had put you off wanting to spend time with any more for a good number of your teenage years (seriously, do all their bedrooms smell that bad?)

But today a boy you’d met a few times in the shop you worked in had asked you out on a date.

And maybe it was because he’d looked at you in a way that no-one else ever had before (in a way that made you feel like the only girl on Runeterra), or maybe it was because you felt like it was high-time you started thinking of yourself for once, but whatever the motive, you’d said yes.

Which had promptly led you to this current dilemma: One, what if he wants to kiss me? And two, how do I kiss?

Hoping Silco had heard some tricks from some of his friends at the mine, you thought he’d at least respond with some useful advice. You’re decidedly not expecting him to gawp at you like he used to do at the fish in the Undercity’s scuffed aquarium (also known as, sneaking into the underground factories at night to see the big glass windows lining the river). 

“You’ve never kissed anyone before?” 

A jerk of your head up to stare at him… 

He has?

“Wait, you’ve already had your first kiss?” you squeak, hopelessly trying to keep the wobble out of your voice.

He’s definitely never talked about having his first kiss before. Why wouldn't he tell you something like that? (And why is thinking about all of this making you feel so uneasy?)

Silco pushes off the doorway he’s leaning on and crosses into the living room, choosing to perch on the arm of the sofa next to you. He’s still holding a spatula in his hand, which you would have normally teased him for if you weren’t so caught up having a crisis over Silco’s apparent love life. 

“Yeah, when I was like, thirteen,” he answers flippantly, as if it’s common knowledge. Old news. Last week’s gossip. 

“What?”

You’re aghast. Stranded out in an ocean with no lifeboat.

There’s this weird feeling bubbling up inside of you and for some reason your brain is hissing the word jealousjealousjealous like a wretched, little goblin, but you’re not jealous, you have no reason to be jealous. 

Gods, it’s not like you and Silco even like each other, you’re best friends, always have been, always will be. 

“With who?” you demand, crossing your arms across your chest and then promptly uncrossing them when you feel ridiculous. 

“Gods, I don’t remember, it was ages ago,” he says, pure indifference just oozing from him. 

“Wow,” you exclaim flatly, your sarcasm nearly reaching slow-clapping levels at his gross attitude. “Woooow.” 

“What? I’m supposed to remember every single kiss I’ve ever had?” he retorts with a roll of his eyes. 

You think you might have pulled a kidney. Or maybe your ribs have come loose. 

There’s been more than one kiss? Too many to remember or even bother to keep count? 

You can’t help but fall silent, staring at the ground as a sick, uneasy feeling spreads through you at a rate you can’t even hope to control. 

Oblivious as ever, Silco doesn’t even notice your internal spiral. 

“Wait, why do you want to know how to kiss? Who are you planning on kissing?” he all but demands, concern creeping into his tone.

It’s matched by the frown that paints his features when you finally drag your gaze back up to his face. 

“Seven,” you tell him before mumbling shyly, more to yourself than to him. “And I don’t know for sure if we’re gonna kiss.” 

Now it’s Silco’s turn to blanch. 

“Who?”

“You know, that boy who comes into the shop sometimes,” you huff in annoyance. 

Janna, he never listens to you.

His reaction is to grimace and you’re not entirely sure why it warrants such a visceral reaction. 

“I thought you found him annoying,” he points out (rather unhelpfully, if you do say so yourself).

Okay, technically, you had said that. At first you’d found his hovering a bit stifling, especially when you were trying to work. But now that he’d asked you out, you think he can’t be all that bad. 

“Well, yeah, at first, but he’s kinda sweet when you get to know him,” you explain, unable to hold back the little smile that crosses your lips when you think about the moment he’d gently tucked a piece of your hair behind your ear. It was probably the most romantic thing anyone’s ever done for you. 

Beside you, Silco pretends to gag loudly. He’s gross. 

You’re just about to punch his leg as hard as you can in retaliation, but the exact moment you do, he reaches up to nervously push a hand through his hair. Except, he’s forgotten that he’s still holding the spatula, so instead he comically smacks himself in the face with it. 

Silco jolts backwards briefly before looking down at the utensil in his hand and you can just see the moment he remembers the food-

“Shit!”

He scrambles off the sofa and back into the kitchen, almost slipping on one of his own shoes in the process. 

“Idiot,” you mumble under your breath when he finally disappears from your line of sight. 

You cross your arms and slump back against the sofa, half in denial of the pout you know you’re sporting. That bone tiredness has been swiftly replaced with a strange, confusing feeling that you cannot for the life of you put a name to. 

Why would Silco care about who you go on a date with? If anything, you thought he’d be happy that you’re finally putting yourself out there. You know, exploring, having fun - something that isn’t just working and sleeping and yelling at Silco when he steals your tweezers. 

The sounds from the kitchen all cease in abrupt succession, silence ringing out when he finally steps back into the living room. 

His arms hang down awkwardly by his sides and he avoids eye contact with you, choosing instead to stare at the stain on the wall by the door. 

“Burnt it,” he announces sheepishly.

“Siiiiil,” you groan dramatically, throwing your head back to look at the ceiling as your arms drop heavily down against your thighs. “We can barely afford food as it is!”

“Oh, be quiet,” he hushes with a sneer. “I’ll give it to Vander when he gets back home and I’ll make us something else in a minute.”

Vander had been doing extra shifts in a pub most evenings, just to make sure you guys stayed in the green and didn’t lose the apartment or miss any unnecessary meals. Honestly, you have no idea how he does it after working all day in the mines. 

You roll your eyes at Silco but can’t find it in yourself to be truly mad. 

Instead of starting dinner again like he said he would, Silco carefully sits next to you on the sofa. You can tell he’s staring at you but you ignore him, keeping your gaze fixed on the window, eyes unfocused enough that all the neon lights blend together in a colourful swirl. 

It’s quiet for a little bit, bar the usual noise of the apartment building and Silco noisily fiddling with a clasp on his shirt, before he abruptly says out of the blue-

“You know, if you’re worried about not knowing how to kiss, you could always practise on me.”

A beat. Then you slowly tip your head sideways to look at him.

“What?”

“Well, you know what they say, practice makes perfect,” he begins, making brief eye contact before darting away like he’s been caught. “And if you want to impress this Six guy-”

“Seven."

“Whatever, all I’m saying is, I can teach you how to kiss,” Silco insists, before adding just a little too nonchalantly, “You know, if you want to.”

If you weren’t so tired, you might have laughed at him. Or smacked him up the head. 

But you must really be exhausted because you do neither of those things, instead squinting at him as the cogs turn sluggishly in your brain.

He’s not… wrong, per se. Practising would make you feel more prepared for it if it happens on your date. 

“I mean, I guess so,” you admit to him slowly. 

You shift your body to the side and really, properly consider him for the first time, trying to imagine yourself kissing Silco. 

And just like that, your stomach erupts into butterflies and you suddenly have no idea what to do with your hands. (Funny, you didn’t feel like this earlier when you thought about kissing Seven…)

To his credit, Silco allows you to consider his offer in silence as you try to figure out what you want to do.

You can’t really argue with his logic. It would be good to know what you’re doing beforehand so you can impress Seven, or at the very least avoid embarrassing yourself.

And Silco is safe. You’ve known him practically your whole life and he’s never truly let you down yet. 

The more you think about it, the more it feels like a good idea. (And it seems to pass you by that by kissing Silco as a practice for your first kiss, Silco himself will be your first kiss…)

You shift your body to face him a bit more, smiling up at him. 

“Yeah,” you say with a croak, before clearing your throat and speaking again just a little more confidently. “Okay.”

“Yeah?” he asks, searching your expression for any sign of hesitance. 

But you’re not hesitant. A little nervous, sure, but this is new, it’s normal to be nervous. 

You throw him a big smile hoping he understands. 

"Yep!" 

Silco offers you one of the softest smiles you’ve ever seen from him and it makes your chest feel all fluttery and nice. 

Then, he slides closer to you and gently takes your cheek in his hand. 

“What, l-like, right now?” you stutter, eyes nervously darting up to meet his. 

Silco freezes and his gaze flickers between your eyes and your lips. 

“I mean, there’s no time like the present, right?” he says, waiting for your confirmation before moving any further. 

He just caught you off-guard, that’s all. It’s not everyday you kiss your best friend as practice for when you kiss your first ever boyfriend. 

“Yeah, I guess.”

You take roughly five seconds to fully prepare yourself - yes, this is actually going to happen - before shifting yourself to face him properly. 

“Okay. Ready now?” he asks, unable to hide the little smile working its way onto his lips. 

“Yep, ready,” you confirm, smiling back up at him as your heart begins to beat rapidly in your chest.

Silco leans down slowly, his hand still gently cupping your face, and your eyes close instinctively, suddenly giddy as his nose brushes your cheek.

Then, he closes the gap and presses his lips to yours.

For a second or two, you just get used to the feeling of him. How his lips are somehow dry and soft at the same time. How he tastes of peppermint gum laced faintly with cigarette smoke, even though you’ve told him repeatedly that he should stop and who the hell’s he trying to impress anyway?

You only just have the presence of mind to purse your own lips against his when he pulls back from you (and you force yourself to ignore the disappointment of that being it).

Luckily for you, that is not it. 

“Okay, not bad, now I need you to move with me,” he says, licking his lips and pushing back his hair only for it to flop back to the exact same spot.

Huh?  

“Move… with you?” you ask as if you’re in a daze. 

“Yeah, like, move your head and lips a bit more. Just follow my lead,” he explains confidently, almost indifferently. “And you can use your hands if you want.”

“What?” 

Okay, you’re baffled now. What do hands have to do with kissing?

“You could put them around my shoulders, or… or in my hair,” Silco tells you, briefly avoiding eye contact as he mumbles out the latter. 

The bashful way he says it makes you think that’s what he prefers. 

“Okay,” you nod slowly, trying to take it all in. "Move my head and lips, use my hands. Got it." 

This time you're the one to move closer to him, leaning up to place your hand along his jaw.

Silco joins you halfway, meeting your lips once more with a slow, chaste peck before he dives back in for more, this time a little bit deeper. 

He tilts his head a little and oh wow, that feels even better. 

You try to heed his advice, this time actively moving your lips against his. Silco must notice the change because he kisses you even harder, pressing forward until you sway back with the motion. 

A hand snakes around the nape of your neck, pulling you back to him and you think your heart swoops in your chest as he does. That same hand travels lightly down your spine, fingertips dancing along the back of your shirt, bringing out the most delightful shiver.

Fuck, you get it now.

Your own hands trail up from his jaw and slide smoothly into his hair, until your fingers accidentally get caught on a little knot in the strands, causing a rough little tug against his scalp.

And Silco groans, travelling from the back of his throat into your lips and it makes you jump back in surprise.

But he doesn’t let you go far, one hand darting to the back of your head to keep you close.

His lips brush against yours as you both breathe heavily, neither one of you wanting to move away. 

“Do you want to stop?” he says, voice husky and low.

A half second to catch your breath before a vehement- 

“No.”

And then he’s right back at it, kissing you even harder. Even more urgently. 

Now, his hands snake into your hair, tugging gently until you gasp at the pleasurable sensation spreading through you. 

Silco takes the opportunity to slide his tongue into your mouth and you’re immediately overwhelmed by the heat that floods your body. 

It feels like your hands have a mind of their own because without even telling them to, they’re suddenly gripping at Silco’s shoulders, then his cheeks, and then yanking the short hairs at the back of his head. 

The noise Silco makes this time can only be described as a moan, low and throaty, and just when you think you couldn’t feel any hotter, Silco grabs your waist with both hands and pulls you towards his lap. 

You straddle one of his thighs, knees pressing into the sofa, hovering slightly above him as you continue to kiss, an ache building within you every passing moment. 

Gods, what is this feeling? You swear you’ve never felt like this before, like you could keep kissing him forever. 

But you don’t because suddenly Silco’s hand moves up the back of your shirt to land on the small of your back, and the feeling of his hot skin on yours makes you squirm in his grasp, breaking your kiss once and for all.

You lean back to stare at him, jaw slack. 

Did that really all just happen? Did you really just kiss your best friend and like it so badly that you want to do it again?

You’re both breathless, chests heaving like you’ve just run a marathon. And while your jaw may be slack, Silco’s is actually slightly agape, his eyes half-lidded as he stares at you. 

Heart racing, it takes you a few seconds to realise that you have no idea what he’s thinking right now. 

You’ve never seen him look like this before and you’re a bit scared to know what that means. It’s like he’s never seen you before. 

Of course, that’s when the panic starts to set in because, what if you’ve upset him? What if you’ve ruined everything? 

Physically unable to stand the thought, you begin to clamber up from where you’re still straddling his thigh when his hands instinctively dart out to grab your waist, keeping you in place above him. 

You look down in shock and only then does he let you go, almost as quickly as he’d latched on.

Dropping down heavily onto the sofa, you make an attempt to get your breath back, but don’t quite manage to calm your racing heart as you stare at the floor, hands curled around the edge of the cushion below you. 

Usually, round about now, Silco would say something witty, or make fun of you, but instead he’s eerily silent, avoiding eye contact like it’s the plague. 

Why isn’t he saying anything? 

Fuck, you can’t take it anymore. 

“Well, uh, thanks for the lesson,” you say awkwardly, shuffling off the couch and standing up. 

You need to go for a shower or maybe scream into your pillow for a bit. But Silco stops you in your tracks, grabbing your hand before you can barely take a step. 

“I don’t think you should go on your date,” he blurts out, the first thing he’s said in nearly a whole minute. 

Your head swivels to look down at him. 

“What? Why?”

Silco dares to look at you for a scant second before his eyes dart away like he’s embarrassed. He drops your hand, clasping his hands together as if your touch burned him. 

“Uh, ‘cause I need your help putting that shelf up.” 

He nods to the piece of wood currently lying up against the wall across the room, where it’s been for the last six months. 

“And someone needs to be here in case our parcel gets delivered,” he continues. You think he might be trying to look casual, but honestly, the way he keeps running his hands through his hair makes him look more insane by the second. 

You’re so distracted by it, you forget to point out that you haven’t even told him what day you were planning to go on your date. 

“Silco,” you huff, frustrated. “Vander can help you with the shelf and Mrs Oliver can take the parcel if no-one is in.”

You’ve never seen the old lady next door leave the apartment once in your entire time living here. 

“I still think you should stay in,” Silco insists. 

“You’re being ridiculous,” you exclaim, throwing your arms in the air. “Putting up a shelf and taking in a parcel doesn’t take a whole evening!”

His whole body language shifts as he changes tack. 

“Where’s he taking you anyway?” 

“I don’t know, he said it’s a surprise.”

Silco’s response is immediate. 

“That sounds really dodgy,” he exaggerates. “Maybe I should come with you just to be safe.”  

Okay, maybe that’s what this is all about. Maybe he’s just being overprotective and trying to look out for you. You can deal with that. 

“Silco, I’ll be fine, I know how to look after myself,” you try to reassure him. 

“Yeah, but I don’t like the thought of you going somewhere I don’t know with a complete stranger. It’ll be safer if I come as a chaperone, I know how to handle things,” he tries to say wisely. It comes across a little bit smug.  

“You can’t even cook dinner without burning it to a crisp,” you point out. 

“It isn’t burnt to a crisp,” he hisses. “And that was your fault anyway for distracting me.”

Alright, that’s it. 

You put your hands on the back of the sofa and lean over him slowly, Silco mirrors the action as he leans back with you, his eyes widening as his hand clutch the sides of his trousers until his knuckles turn bone white. 

Your voice drops, low and (hopefully) threatening.

“Silco. I don’t care what you say, I’m going on my date. Alone,” you say defiantly. There’s a brief pause where you realise that statement is nonsensical, so you add, “With Seven.”

His awestruck expression melts into a scowl, but you don’t wait for his rebuttal, pushing yourself off the sofa back and straightening up, ready to walk out the room. 

“Where are you going?” Silco calls, slightly breathless for some reason.

“For a shower,” you throw over your shoulder. 

“I used up all the hot water,” he says back. 

You’re far too frustrated to think of a reply so instead you just huff and stomp out of the room, leaving him to stare after you, as you wonder what the hell just happened.

-

PART 2

[ace-of-zaun]

just wanted to say that Pas de Deux is one of the BEST (if not the very best) arcane fics i have ever read... i am genuinely enamored with the entire series as a whole. you are very very talented !

I think this is one of the nicest things anyone’s ever said to me, thank you so much for your kind words!! 🥺 When I started writing Pas de Deux, I genuinely thought nobody would want to read it, so I’m positively overwhelmed that so many lovely people such as yourself are still enjoying it! 

I hope you’re having a wonderful day, anon 💜 (and thank you again!)

[ace-of-zaun]

Pas de Deux Pt. 10: 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

So, alone again. 

Again. 

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

Of course, protesting is no use. 

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

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

Sulking. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I'm not hungry.”

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

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

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

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

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

You sigh, immediately backtracking. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“To keep you s-”

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

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

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

“Your perfume or mine?” he asks playfully. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You practically blanch at the gall. 

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

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

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

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

“I’m not doing this-”

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

Unfortunately, Silco tries to stop you.

“Sweetheart-”

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

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

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

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

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

“I-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He clearly wants to comfort you. 

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

You don’t. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Of seeking justice.

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

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

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

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

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

“Do you have many of those?”

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

“None as beautiful as you.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I can think of a few things.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I want it all.”

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

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

“What do you want?”

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

“Do I?”

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

“I want you.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“More than the body needs blood.”

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

“Silco.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Good g-”

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

“Excuse me.”

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

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

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

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

“Go. Away.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

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