axkirak

[axkirak]

Quick update : Putting "By Order of the Eye of Zaun" on hold (indefinitely)

This isn’t great news, and I hate to say it, but I have to let you know that I’m putting By Order of the Eye of Zaun on indefinite hiatus.

I still have so many ideas I wanted to write, so much I wanted to tell with this fic. But recently, my confidence got completely crushed. I’ve really tried to let it go and come back for the sake of everyone who’s been waiting, but every time I try to write, I keep thinking over and over again that my writing is terrible.

I love everything I’ve written, and I’m proud of my work. But dealing with this kind of feeling has completely thrown me off. To be honest, I’m not strong enough to just shrug it off and pretend I’m fine.

I don’t know when I’ll be in the right headspace again. It might take longer than I hoped. It might never fully go away. Or I might end up losing confidence so badly that I just can’t write anymore. (God, I really hope it doesn’t get that bad.)

I just want to say sorry from the bottom of my heart. I feel really bad that I can’t keep updating By Order of the Eye of Zaun, especially since I love this fic so much and really wanted to finish it.

I’m going to take some time to heal and try to get my mind back on track. I can’t promise I’ll return to this fic, but I’ll try. I really don’t want to abandon it. But right now, I just can’t write it. I hope one day I’ll feel confident enough to come back to it.

If things don’t get better and I really can’t finish it, I’ll still come back and post a full spoiler summary (from beginning to end) I don’t want to leave you hanging, even if I can’t complete the story.

Thanks so much for sticking with me. And I’m really sorry I couldn’t be the writer I wanted to be.

[axkirak]

We were still going strong

I never did you wrong

Until the new me came along

Just a linework and measurements study of his poster. Sort of a mix of Viktors, of his duality - his humanity and arcane selves. This song has been in my braincell ever since I saw an amazing animatic with it. ;.;

[axkirak]

By Order of the Eye of Zaun

(𝐒𝐢𝐥𝐜𝐨 𝐱 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫) Peaky Blinders AU

Third : A Family Matter

Read in Ao3 : here

Pairings:  Silco x f!reader

Fandom : Arcane (TV Series)

Themes : Peaky Blinders AU

Status : WIP (Weekly Update) This is a long fic, probably over 20 chapters.

Summary :  Rumors about you and Silco secretly being together (which isn’t true) are spreading all over Zaun. At the same time, you find out that Jinx, your student and Silco’s adopted daughter, is starting to follow in her father’s footsteps. You’ll do whatever it takes to stop her and pull her out of that life, even if it means going against Silco.

A/N : In this fic, I made Jinx younger, like 15-16 years old, and tweaked her character a bit. I didn’t want her to be too aggressive or harsh, but more like a teenager who's just figuring life out and making mistakes. (it’s kinda hard to fit her into a Peaky Blinders AU because canon Jinx has a very unique personality, so I had to tone her down a little to make her vibe with the theme.)

Masterlist

➡  Previous│Next (Soon!)

It was hard to keep secrets in a small town where everyone knew one another, especially when the name Silco was involved—a man whose influence reached into nearly every corner of Zaun.

Something felt off. You sensed it in your bones, even if no one dared to say it aloud.

Wherever you went, whether at school or elsewhere, whispers followed you like shadows. No matter how you tried to make casual conversation, people responded with clipped, cautious words. Even simple questions like "How are you today?" were met with guarded tones, eyes avoiding yours unless they thought you weren’t looking. Then you would always feel their watchful gazes on you.

They might have believed you hadn’t noticed, but you always did. The only thing you didn’t know was why everyone had started acting so strangely.

That question stayed with you until a few weeks later, when it was finally answered on a late Tuesday afternoon after class. One straightforward question from one of your female students caught you so off guard that you nearly spilled coffee on her homework.

"Are you Silco's woman, Miss?"

You quickly set the cup down, needing a moment to steady yourself before responding. “Where did you hear that, Barbara?”

"Oh, come on, Miss. This town’s too small for secrets. News spreads fast," she said, leaning in and lowering her voice like she was sharing forbidden gossip. "Someone said they saw you leaving his house."

You remembered the last time you had seen Silco. You had spent the entire night at his home, and he had walked you to the door himself at dawn. If anyone happened to witness that moment, it wouldn’t have been hard to draw the wrong conclusion.

But this was not a scandal you could afford. Not as a respected teacher, and certainly not when the man in question was the notorious crime lord everyone feared. Being tied to someone like Silco was bound to bring trouble sooner or later.

"That’s not true. And if I find out who’s spreading these rumors, I’ll start docking their grades," you said, though you knew your students had never really been afraid of you. That was the downside of being young and too friendly. Sometimes they overstepped and treated you more like a peer than a teacher. "Alright, anything else you need to tell me?"

Barbara shrugged, still clearly amused, as teenage girls often were when gossiping. "Do you remember Jinx?"

You nodded.

Everyone knew Jinx. She was Silco’s adopted daughter, the one who rarely attended classes and caused more headaches than you could count. Plenty of students hoping to join the Eye of Zaun always tried to get close to her, which made her the unofficial ringleader of Zaun’s delinquent youth. She constantly led her little gang into trouble that sometimes ended with police arrests, and it was always you who had to bail them out.

But Jinx always walked free. Not once had she spent a night in a cell. That was the kind of untouchable status Silco’s influence afforded her. No one could lay a hand on his precious daughter, not the police, not even other teachers.

"Jinx just shared something with her friends recently," Barbara continued. "It’s some kind of substance they call Shimmer. They say it makes you feel energetic and euphoric, but it just sounds scary to me."

You froze, unable to hide the shock on your face. "You shouldn’t make such serious accusations without proof, Barbara."

"I’m not accusing! Everybody knows about it."

Barbara's insistence only deepened your concern.

You knew exactly what Shimmer was. You had once been involved in the underworld yourself. It was a powerful drug, a synthetic stimulant that had been spreading through Zaun’s slums for some time now, produced and distributed by the Eye of Zaun.

Silco. Silco. Silco. Why did every terrible thing always lead back to him?

You sighed, exhausted by the weight of it all. You had to admit, you hated him. Not in some detached, objective way, but personally. He reminded you too much of your own family back in Piltover, an old mafia clan that had built its power through both legal and illegal means: lending, extortion, robbery, and murder. Not so different from what the Eye of Zaun had done to Zaun.

As the illegitimate daughter of the Ferros Clan, you grow up surrounded by crime. You witness and learn things no ordinary girl should ever know, from smoking weed to firing your first gun at thirteen, all under your father’s ruthless training. He expects every Ferros child, no matter their background, to be strong and merciless enough to carry on the family legacy.

Being a bastard meant you had to work twice as hard as anyone else. But even your patience had limits. That limit came the day you saw your mother shot dead right before your eyes, leaving you to survive alone for years in a world that had never been kind. That moment marked your decision to escape your father’s grip and swear never to return to Piltover.

Deep down, you knew you were part of the darkness too, even if you refused to admit it. The guilt stayed with you. Running away from the polished world of Topside and becoming a teacher for underprivileged students here was your way to atone for your past as a member of the Ferros clan.

As a teacher and someone seeking redemption, you were well aware that you could no longer stand by and let this happen right under your nose.

You had to do something.

And you knew exactly who you had to face to put an end to it.

The sweltering air had left the skin beneath your dark long-sleeved shirt drenched in sweat as you had waited in front of the massive teak door for more than ten minutes. The gold-engraved nameplate read Silco, glinting under the dim lights of The Last Drop's upper floor.

You forced yourself to stay calm while the armed guards kept their eyes locked on you, suspicion clear on their faces. You knew that even the slightest wrong move would give them an excuse to shoot you without hesitation.

Finally, the door opened and a tall, muscular woman stepped out. She towered over you, wearing a black vest with gold accents. Her short, center-parted black hair framed a face marked with scars of varying depths scattered across her dark skin. But what stood out most was her left arm, a mechanical limb made of strange-colored metal that added to her already intimidating presence.

You recognized her immediately. Sevika. One of Silco’s most trusted subordinates. Despite her fearsome appearance, she had always treated you more civilly than anyone else here. Her gray eyes scanned you from head to toe, and after a brief pause, her lips curled into a small smile as she nodded. "Boss says you can go in."

She didn’t follow. Instead, she held the door open and gestured for you to step inside.

The strong scent of cigar smoke hit your nose the moment you entered. Silco sat behind his desk, reclined in a padded leather chair, a cigar between his fingers and a glass of scotch beside him. His eyebrows rose slightly at the sight of you, but he motioned for you to take the seat across from him.

"Well, well. My favorite teacher," he said. "Have you finally decided to work with me? Is that why you’re back?"

"That’s not why I’m here," you answered, clearing your throat and keeping your voice polite and steady. You didn’t like Silco, but you also didn’t want to make him your enemy. "I need to speak with you about your daughter. About Jinx."

Silco held your gaze, his expression unreadable. "What kind of trouble has she caused this time?"

"I’ve heard Jinx is distributing Shimmer at school. And frankly, I’m deeply concerned, Mr. Silco. I don’t want any Zaunite youth getting involved with drugs." You kept your tone firm. "And that’s not even mentioning the violence and criminal activities she pulls others into. As her guardian, I believe you should be paying closer attention to her. You need to be stricter with her."

A faint smile touched his lips, like your words amused him. "You know how teenage girls are. They like a little mischief now and then. What can I do? I can’t stop her from having some fun."

"But she’s your daughter. And what she’s doing could put her in serious danger." You hesitated, realizing you might have pushed too far. Silco’s gaze turned cold, his displeasure plain. But instead of backing down, a stubborn defiance rose inside you. You had said nothing untrue, and you refused to apologize.

You straightened your back, lifted your chin slightly, and met his eyes without flinching.

Your stance seemed to make him abandon any attempt at intimidation. He shook his head and tapped the ash from his cigar into the tray. "I don’t understand why you care so much about Jinx."

"I care because she’s my student," you said firmly, your voice unwavering. "I worry about her. And I believe you do too." Your tone softened, but your words remained steady and sincere.

For a moment, Silco seemed caught off guard. You caught something fleeting in his eyes, a weariness that cut through his usual cruelty, but it vanished almost immediately. He turned away and stood to his full height.

"This is a family matter. It’s none of your concern. You may leave."

You knew you had failed. He wasn’t interested in addressing a problem that directly involved him. You hadn’t expected much compassion from a man like Silco, but disappointment still gnawed at you.

And that disappointment quickly curdled into frustration.

Fine, you thought. If he won’t do anything, then you’ll handle it yourself.

All of this had brought you here, to a run-down house on the outskirts of town, surrounded by endless stretches of dry, barren land. You had found out (with the help of some friendly police officers) that this place served as a gathering spot for the younger, lower-ranking members of The Eye of Zaun.

When you pushed open the door and stepped inside, you found over seven teenagers, both boys and girls, gathered together. They were scrawny, dressed in worn-out clothes, but each held a gleaming, brand-new handgun. Every pair of eyes turned toward you at once, and for a moment, you were fairly certain that someone had nearly drawn their weapon to shoot. But once they realized you were just an unarmed woman, they exchanged amused glances instead.

"Hey, whose mom just showed up?"

Laughter erupted among them, but you ignored it. Your attention shifted to the glowing pink substance sealed inside glass vials, neatly lined across the wooden table and stacked inside countless old crates crammed into every corner of the room. It was only then that you fully realized where you had ended up, standing inside one of The Eye of Zaun’s stash houses, a place you should have stayed far away from if you valued your life.

This was far too dangerous. A part of you wanted to turn and run, knowing that what you had seen could cost you your life. But you couldn’t leave, not before meeting the person you had come for.

And then, she appeared.

Jinx walked into the room, her long blue hair braided into twin plaits that fell to her waist, a cigarette dangling loosely from her lips, and a gun tucked into the waistband of her pants. At first, she didn’t notice you. But when her eyes finally met yours, they widened in shock. Her mouth fell open, and the cigarette slipped from her lips to the floor.

"Hey, Teach! What are you doing here?!"

You didn’t answer. Instead, you reached out, grabbed her ear, and yanked her toward the door. Jinx let out a sharp yelp, while the others burst into louder laughter, finding the sight thoroughly entertaining. Their laughter only fueled your anger.

You were furious with Silco. You were furious with those damn kids. But most of all, you were furious with Jinx.

Once you pulled her outside, you finally released her ear. Jinx rubbed it irritably and shot you a glare. “What the hell was that for?”

You placed your hands on your hips and drew a deep breath, struggling to hold back the storm inside you. Beneath your anger lay a sharp, bitter disappointment. You had fought so hard to keep your students away from crime, to save them from the dark path you once walked yourself. Joining The Eye of Zaun was the last thing you wanted for any of them. You knew too well how dangerous the underworld was, how many young lives were destroyed by stepping into it, and how many dangers waited for those who refused to walk away.

You were deeply disappointed in Jinx, but even more so, you were disappointed in yourself for failing her as a teacher.

“So this is what you want? To be like them? To be a thug?”

Jinx froze at your shout, then scowled.

“Why do you even care? It’s my life,” she snapped, trying to push past you to go back inside. But you stepped in front of her, blocking her way.

“Because I care, that’s why!” you said, breathing heavily as the weight of your anger pressed down on your chest. “I came all this way, risking my life just to make sure nothing bad happens to you!”

She made the same face Silco once made when you said those words. For a moment, confusion and something else flickered in her eyes before she looked away and spat on the ground.

“I didn’t ask you to care. It’s my life. I can do whatever the hell I want. Mind your own damn business.”

It’s my life—the classic excuse every reckless teenager uses whenever they decided to create trouble or behave like fools.

Your gaze drifted to the gleaming silver handgun tucked into Jinx’s waistband. It looked new, barely used. You pressed your lips together as a dark thought rose. It was a method your father had once used on you. It wasn’t exactly appropriate for teaching, but it was the only thing you could think of right now.

"Answer me honestly. Have you ever killed anyone?"

Jinx flinched slightly at the question but answered quietly, “Yeah.”

You knew she was lying. She avoided your eyes, and her nervous fidgeting didn’t escape your notice. Taking advantage of her hesitation, you snatched the gun from her waistband. Jinx cursed immediately.

“What the hell, Teach?” She lunged to grab the gun back. but it wouldn’t be easy. You weren’t just any woman who had never fought before.

You handled the revolver smoothly; the Colt .38 Special fit perfectly in your grip and was fully loaded. Cocking the hammer with your thumb, you raised Jinx’s hand and placed the gun firmly in her palm, pointing the barrel at your own temple.

“You said it’s your life. You can do whatever you want, right?” Your voice dropped into a low, dangerous growl as you stared into her wide, terrified eyes. “Then shoot me. Because I won’t stop interfering with your life until one of us is dead.”

Her trembling hand pressed the cold barrel against your temple. Sweat dripped down her fingers, soaking the metal. She was terrified; you saw it in her eyes. But you weren’t. You stared back, challenging her, a slow, mocking smile creeping across your lips.

The tension thickened until you finally shouted,

“What are you waiting for? Pull the trigger!”

You knew she wouldn’t. You had been in her shoes once and hadn’t pulled the trigger, no matter how badly you wanted to.

You were too young and scared back then. So was Jinx.

She flung the gun to the ground, muttering curses under her breath. "This is insane! Are you out of your mind?" she shouted at you, fury blazing in her voice. Yet, despite the anger, fear still flickered in her eyes. You remained silent, allowing her to vent her rage until she finally calmed down. Only then did you bend down and pick up the gun from the ground.

"You know," you said quietly, "I used to be just like you."

Jinx frowned, staring at you as if she didn’t understand, though she clearly did. And in that brief moment, you pulled her closer, wrapping your arm tightly around her neck to keep her from escaping. Before pressed the gun against her temple, 

“You think living above the law is cool? Then listen carefully, because this is what you’ll face one day.” You whispered into her ear, slow and deliberate, making sure each word etched itself into her memory. “Lesson one: never trust anyone. Not even me. One mistake, and those you call friends will kill you without hesitation. You'll live your whole life in paranoia, always wondering who you need to kill and who’s trying to kill you. Is that really the life you want?"

Jinx shook her head violently, tears brimming in her wide pink eyes. Her pale face flushed as her shoulders trembled with each sob.

When you were sure the lesson had sunk in, you loosened your grip, unloaded the revolver, and handed it back to her. Watching her cry stirred a pang of guilt in you. Gently, you pulled her into an embrace, rubbing her back softly.

"Do you want to come back with me? I’ll buy you a drink. Okay?"

Jinx didn’t answer but gave a small nod. After being thoroughly intimidated, the fierce rebel had suddenly become much more compliant. You couldn’t help but wonder if the rest of your troublemaking students might respond the same way. But if that were ever to happen, you would probably have to threaten each of them at gunpoint first, and that was something neither you nor the school wanted to see.

You glanced down at your hands, still feeling the weight of the gun. Closing your eyes for a moment, a wave of emotional exhaustion washed over you.

That day, you made a vow: it would be the last time you ever held a gun.

Never realizing that you would soon break that promise.

[axkirak]

Time to start a New playthrough of BG3 again lol

My Arcane Viktor sculpt for BG3 (WIP)

[axkirak]

Are you thinking of having Jinx in your peaky blinders inspired silco fic?

[axkirak]

I've said it before and I'll say it again: fanfiction-writing is about the author, not the reader

Writing a fanfic story in order to share it should always be secondary. Primarily the desire to write a fanfic should stem from the writer's desire to bring into existence an au they want their faves to be in.

Don't get me wrong: having lovely and enthusiastic readers is something I'll always be grateful for because they allow me to enjoy the beauty of sharing my stories, getting sweet compliments for my writing and learning from their feedback/constructive critiscm.

But, there is no part of the fanfic-writing process where a writer should put the readers first. Unless you receive a prompt from a reader or payment from them, you should only have in mind the story you want to tell, how you want to tell that story, the characters in it, your vision, ho and your passion for writing.

Even at the point when you post your story, it's still all about you as the writer. You shouldn't be anxious about the comments, hits and kudos you'll get. It should be about you merely sharing a story you wrote for yourself, a story you want to bring into existence, a story you want to read.

You have every right not to post the story if you want. That's how much control you have as a writer.

I hope this message helps my fellow fanfic writers do away with making their writing all about numbers, and about others(readers), instead of about themselves.

[axkirak]

I won't stop saying it: in fanfic-writing, you make your own rules. Write whatever the fuck you want to write

Sometimes it's that you haven't written that fanfic of that genre yet because you don't have confidence in your writing talents, or you have some learning and improving to do in your writing, or you're afraid of the audience reception.

Sometimes it's also just that the said genre is not for you. Write what you're confident in and what makes you happy. It's okay to leave the rest alone.

Unless you're receiving payment to diversify and to be more creative and to "impress", you have every right to stick to your comfort zone.

Write the same fanfic five times with five different endings. Write one genre of fanfics. Write all genres ever known to man. Write for 75 fandoms. Write for one fandom. Update once a year. Update every hour. Write only 200-chaptered stories. Write only drabbles. Write the tamest stuff. Write the kinkiest stuff(tags exist for a reason). Write different love stories for one character you love. Use the same lines or words.

Do anything and everything as long as you're happy and having fun. If there are too many negative emotions(fear, self-doubt, mental stress, worry, anxiety, overthinking, etc.) attached to your writing, then you're probably taking it too seriously.

Nobody has the right to shake your fanfic-writing peace and make you doubt how great of a writer you are, not even YOURSELF or YOUR READERS. This shit is free and meant to be for fun and relaxation.

[axkirak]

Now I know you keep saying you aren't thinking of a part 2 for old dog...BUT the way you wrote the ending was just SO making it seem like there would be😭

Tbh. I’m not really sure what kind of answer you were looking for. Like, “Oh, you’re right, I was actually planning a part two but just kept it quiet” or “Sorry the ending wasn’t great and made you think there should be more.”

From the start, I made it clear that Old Dog is just a "short fic" I wrote after watching Arcane because I felt like writing something and wanted to share a story as a writer. That’s all.

Also, both Kiss and Make Up and Old Dog were meant to have open endings, to leave space for readers to imagine what happens next however they want. That kind of ending isn’t new or unusual. Lots of writers do it, not just me. (and if you look at both fic, they end kinda the same way—with the male lead left thinking about what to do next.)

What I’m saying is, I meant for it to end like that. I never planned to write a sequel for either story. Using open endings is just the style I went for, and it’s not something only I do. Many people write like this.

That said, I’m not shutting the door on maybe continuing Old Dog someday, especially since a lot of people liked it. Maybe I’ll come back to it, maybe not. Just like how I decided the ending the way I did. That’s my call as the writer. I wrote this story with love and passion, not for anything else.

Thanks a lot for liking my story. Hope you understand and respect how I wrote it. tyvm💖

[axkirak]

it would seem that The Last of Us has nothing to do with it👀

Heck, I have no ideas

[axkirak]

A Silcoed Jinx and a Jinxed Silco

[axkirak]

Old Dog chapter 2 idea:

Silco tells an enforcer to follow/stalk reader… but like, the enforcer didn't fully understand Silco's instructions & so something unexpected happens…?

Idk, I just need more chapters for Old Dog 'cause it's so good!!!

Why are so many anons in my inbox asking about chapter 2 of Old Dog?

Alright, alright, I get it. You guys really love that fic lol. I love your ideas though. I’ll see what I can do with them. No promises on a part 2, but I might try... since you guys keep nudging me about it. 🤣🤣🤣🤣

[axkirak]

By Order of the Eye of Zaun (Masterlist)

(𝐒𝐢𝐥𝐜𝐨 𝐱 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫) Peaky Blinders AU

And this story began with the sound of a gun.

It all started when you met him, 

on the day of the first gunshot that rang out in front of your own house.

Read in Ao3 : here

Pairings:  Silco x f!reader

Fandom : Arcane (TV Series)

Themes : Peaky Blinders AU

Status : WIP (Weekly Update) This is a long fic, probably over 20 chapters.

Content waring : Mentions of Domestic Abuse/Drug/Murder, References to Kidnapping, Gang Violence, Death, Injury, PTSD, Racial Slur, Bad Language, Manipulate, Arranged Marriage, Dub-con, Smoking a bit too much.

Tags : Partners in Crime, Strangers to Lovers, Slow Burn, what's it called when you can't stand the person you're sleeping with?

Summary :  In 1920, Zaun is under the rule of the Eye of Zaun, the alias of Silco, a ruthless and cunning crime lord who will do anything for the city's gain and his own, no matter the cost. His ambition to expand his influence into Piltover leads him to you, the key to either his rise or his downfall. This is a story of power, survival, and the underworld, where the last one standing could be the victor or lose everything.

A/N : It’s a Peaky Blinders AU, so it doesn’t follow Arcane canon at all. Some characters are tweaked to fit the vibe, a bit of OOC yeah, but I try to keep Silco as close to canon as I can.

I’m not sure how long this fic will be, maybe around 20 chapters or more. I’ll update every week as long as people are still reading. Don’t worry, I’m not going MIA. I’ll definitely finish it.

Masterlist

Prologue : How I Met Your Father?

First : Gunshot

Second : Whiskey neat

Third : A Family Matter

Fourth : (Soon)

Fifth : (Soon)

Sixth : (Soon)

Seventh : (Soon)

Eighth : (Soon)

Ninth : (Soon)

Tenth : (Soon)

Eleventh : (Soon)

Twelfth : (Soon)

Thirteenth : (Soon)

Fourteenth : (Soon)

Fifteenth : (Soon)

Sixteenth : (Soon)

Seventeenth : (Soon)

Eighteenth : (Soon)

Nineteenth : (Soon)

Twentieth : (Soon)

[axkirak]

By Order of the Eye of Zaun

(𝐒𝐢𝐥𝐜𝐨 𝐱 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫) Peaky Blinders AU

Second : Whiskey neat

Read in Ao3 : here

Pairings:  Silco x f!reader

Fandom : Arcane (TV Series)

Themes : Peaky Blinders AU

Status : WIP (Weekly Update) This is a long fic, probably over 20 chapters.

Summary :  It’s been two months since you saved a mysterious man who was shot in front of your house. You think nothing can surprise you anymore until you walk into The Last Drop and see him again. This time, he comes back with your secret and an offer you can’t refuse.

Masterlist

➡  Previous│Next

The man was gone by the next morning.

What he left behind was a mess of bloodstains scattered across the floor. Those marks took far too long to scrub away. But more than that, he left behind a deep-rooted paranoia that refused to fade.

You could still remember his sharply drawn features, the cold air of distrust that clung to him, and those strange, mismatched eyes. For quite some time, you were haunted by nightmares of a man whose name you didn’t even know. Even in broad daylight, you lived with a constant sense of dread.

Eventually, you came to realize that every corner of Zaun, from the shops and markets to the churches where you once found solace, was shrouded in a shadow you had never noticed before. And anything could happen at any moment, like gunfire, or a stranger soaked in blood.

You never contacted the police about what had happened. Not because of a promise you made, but because of a fear that gnawed quietly at the back of your mind. If you said anything, that man and his gun might return for you at any time. You had known it the moment your eyes met his. He could have killed you without hesitation, and you wouldn’t even have seen it coming. The only reason you were still alive was because he chose to spare you.

It felt like your life had slipped completely out of your hands, as if there was nothing left you could do.

It felt like your life had suddenly slipped out of your control, as if there was nothing you could do anymore.

You didn’t want to be involved in anything like that ever again. Least of all with that man. Seeing him once had already been far too much.

You truly believed your life would return to normal, never realizing that this was only the beginning of a long trail of problems waiting just ahead.

It was a Saturday night when you decided to stop by The Last Drop, a local pub tucked away in the alleys of Zaun. There, you met Scar, a burly Chirean bartender who was just a few years younger than you. The two of you had known each other for a while now, and as always, he greeted you with the same familiar line he used every time you showed up for a drink.

“Well, well. What brings you here tonight?”

Without needing to ask, he slid a glass of whiskey across the counter toward you.

“Whiskey neat,” Scar said knowingly to his regular Piltovan customer, who had dropped by often enough to almost count as a friend. “Haven’t seen you in a while. Been busy teaching school or something?”

Two months, you thought. Two months since that night. The night you found yourself digging a bullet out of a stranger’s bleeding body.

You let out a heavy sigh and knocked the whiskey back in a single gulp. The bitter heat clawed its way down your throat, making you wince. You lifted the empty glass again, a wordless signal for another.

Scar chuckled and refilled it without hesitation. “You don’t have to rush it. If you drink like that, you’re going to regret it when you wake up with a hangover.”

You ignored the warning. All you wanted tonight was to get drunk as fast as possible, drag yourself home, and collapse into your own bed. You didn’t want to worry about someone showing up at your door soaked in blood again.

“If I’m too out of it to walk home, you’ll just have to carry me back,” you muttered.

The young bartender shook his head with an amused smile. He grabbed a nearby empty glass and wiped it half-heartedly with a bar towel. “If I didn’t already know you, I’d think you were trying to make a move on me.”

He was clearly joking, but you didn’t laugh. Your thoughts were too wrapped up in what had happened two months ago. You took a slow sip of whiskey, letting the burn dull your senses

You stayed buried in your own thoughts, completely unaware of when the mood inside the pub began to shift. You only realized something was wrong when you noticed every pair of eyes turning toward the entrance. Even Scar was staring in that direction, his lips moving with a quiet curse.

“Shit.”

Then he looked at you, as if silently warning you not to turn around.

But curiosity is never easy to silence. The urge to look surged up inside you, and you turned your head before you could stop yourself.

You regretted it immediately.

There was a man stood in the doorway, dressed in a finely tailored crimson suit worn over a black vest trimmed with gold, strikingly different from the rugged workwear common in Zaun. But what drew the eye most, though, was the pistol holstered at his hip.

He stepped inside slowly, and the pub fell into an unnerving silence. Removing his hat, he revealed a stern face with a scar stretching across half of it. Sharp eyes beneath slanted brows scanned the room one person at a time, scrutinizing each face with unsettling precision.

Then his mismatched eyes landed on you.

Recognition sparked instantly.

Your gaze snapped away, heart pounding in your chest, even though you knew it was already too late. He had seen you.

There was no way you could forget that face. And you were certain he hadn’t forgotten yours.

He was the man whose life you had saved just two months ago.

Scar noticed everything, but he was sharp enough to know when to speak and when to stay silent. The air around you grew thick with tension, heavy enough that the sound of approaching footsteps behind you rang out sharp and clear. The bitter scent of cigar hit your nose the moment someone settled into the empty stool beside you.

You pressed your lips together and downed the rest of your whiskey in one go, letting the burn of the alcohol rush through your veins before reluctantly turning to face him.

His sharp eyes stared at you, It’s the same look he gave you the first time you met. His thin lips curl into a faint smile, one that feels far too intimate to be casual.

“It’s been a while. I didn’t expect to see you again.”

You glanced briefly at Scar, who was now pouring you another drink with a stiffness that betrayed the tension he was trying to hide. The rest of the bar seemed to carry on as usual, yet you could feel the curiosity in the sidelong glances they kept casting your way.

You haven’t lived in this city for long, but you’ve lived here long enough to know: everyone knows this man.—and feared him.

“I wasn’t expecting to see you either,” you replied with a careful smile. “What brings you here?”

“Just tying up a few loose ends from two months ago.”

His tone was light, almost offhand, as though he was talking about some mundane errand. But you knew better. It wasn’t difficult to guess what he meant, especially when you noticed the faint drops of blood staining the cuff of his pants and the tips of his polished shoes.

It was safer to pretend you hadn’t seen them. So you turned your gaze away with composed calm and took another slow sip of your whiskey. A faint flush began to rise in your cheeks, stirred by the alcohol.

“Oh, I never did introduce myself, did I?” he said, his voice smooth as he extended a hand toward you. “Silco.”

Silco. That was the name you’d learned that night.

And if you'd had the choice, you would’ve rather never known it at all.

You took his hand. His grip was steady and assured. Coupled with the alcohol already in your veins, it sent your pulse into a subtle quicken. You pulled away a second too fast, as if his touch had seared your skin. It might have seemed rude, but Silco didn’t seem to mind. He turned to the bartender and gave his order with casual ease.

“Rum for me. And get the lady whatever she’s having. It’s on me.”

Your glass was refilled almost immediately, followed closely by a fresh pour of rum set beside it. Scar’s hands moved swiftly behind the wooden counter, his jaw clenched tight.

Silco lifted his glass and gave a slight tilt, a gesture of toast paired with a smile that hovered somewhere between charm and danger.

You wanted nothing more than to leave. But there was only one thing left to do. You raised your glass, tapped it lightly against his, and took another sip, already knowing deep in your chest that you wouldn't be going home anytime soon.

You woke to the morning light spilling across your face, its brightness nudging your eyes open. A dull ache pulsed at your temples, the familiar sting of a hangover settling in fast. For a long moment, you lay still, disoriented, until the truth began to sink in. This wasn’t your home.

The room was far too spacious, the sheets far too soft, and the silk beneath your fingers felt needlessly luxurious. Even the furniture, which you took in at a glance, spoke of wealth that didn’t belong to your cramped rental. The contrast was disorienting. You sat in silence for a while before slowly getting out of bed, your thoughts still thick with fog.

What the hell happened?

Despite the tension creeping through your chest, you moved ahead quietly, every step cautious as you explored the unfamiliar surroundings. Eventually, you reached what appeared to be a large kitchen. That was when you stopped abruptly, caught off guard by the sight of someone already there.

Silco. The man from the bar.

He was seated alone, sipping black coffee and reading the newspaper as if nothing were out of place.

Fragments of last night began to surface. You remembered drinking with him, though the rest felt like a blank page with nothing written on it.

Silco looked up, as if sensing your stare. A faint smile played on his lips as he gestured to the chair across from him.

"Awake already? Come, sit. Would you like some coffee?"

His voice was calm and courteous, every bit the gentleman. But you remained where you were, unmoving.

"What happened last night?"

He raises an eyebrow. “Don’t remember a thing? What a shame.” He takes another sip of coffee and gives a casual shrug. “Nothing much. We just had sex last night, that’s all.”

Whatever trace of the gentleman he carried vanished with that single line. You froze, the words hitting you like a slap. Then he let out a soft chuckle, clearly entertained by your reaction.

“I’m just joking,” he said. “But really, are you planning to stand there all morning?”

A part of you wanted to lash out at him. But before you could, you noticed the shift in his expression.

Silco now rested his chin on his folded hands, his gaze fixed squarely on yours. There was something sharp and deliberate in the way he looked at you. It was as if he was seeing straight through every layer you’d built, cutting right to the truths you’d tried to bury.

You hesitated, caught in the gravity of that stare. There was a weight in it that was hard to ignore.

Eventually, with a quiet breath, you gave in. You stepped forward and lowered yourself into the chair opposite him, doing your best to hide the unease on your face.

Silco slid a plate of sandwiches and a steaming cup of coffee toward you, but you didn’t touch either. Instead, you kept your eyes on him and spoke in a calm, flat tone.

“You already know who I am. So don’t dance around it. What do you want?”

He paused, as though momentarily caught off guard by your directness. Then, slowly, that same faint smile returned, touched with both surprise and amusement.

“Well,” he began, “word was, you were something of a local favorite. A kind-hearted Piltie who’d been living in Zaun for over two years. Clean record. Upstanding. Sounded ideal, didn’t it? But I’ve never trusted Pilties. Not a single one. So I did a little digging... and found something rather interesting.”

Your stomach clenched.

You felt it the moment his eyes locked onto yours, the quiet menace behind that stare.

Whatever he found couldn’t be good.

Silco picked up a folder and placed it on the table. Your breath caught the moment you saw the name printed in dark ink on its cover: Clan Ferros.

“Ah, Clan Ferros. An ancient noble bloodline from Piltover, powerful and influential. They are both a leading trade house and a mafia syndicate.” He flipped the folder open and skimmed through the pages with bored detachment. “The current head is Rhodri. One son, two daughters. I heard the younger daughter vanished mysteriously just over two years ago.” Silco lifted his gaze to meet yours. “So, tell me. Why did the daughter of Clan Ferros end up here? And more importantly, should I be concerned?”

Your heart sank, a familiar dread curling deep in your chest. You had prepared yourself for this possibility, but you never expected it to come so soon.

“An illegitimate child. That’s all,” you said, pressing your lips together and gripping your trembling hands tightly. You lifted your chin. “Rhodri acknowledged me legally later, yes. But beyond that, we have no ties. Whatever happens with Ferros has nothing to do with me.”

“Don’t worry. We don’t have a problem with Ferros. At least, not yet.” Silco leaned forward, his presence suddenly too close, the pressure in his gaze unmistakable. “I just wonder if we can trust a woman who hides herself so well to live freely in our territory. What exactly are you planning?”

You knew what he was searching for. Fear. Panic. That flicker in your eyes betraying a secret kept hidden. It was the reaction most people gave when their secrets were dragged into the light.

But all he got from you was a gaze cold and detached as ice.

“Whatever I’m planning, it’s none of your concern,” you said. Your voice was sharper than ever: firm and unwavering. “I have no interest in The Eye of Zaun’s affairs, and I suggest you stay out of mine. It would be better for both of us if we simply kept to our own paths.”

The Eye of Zaun—the infamous title belonged to the man sitting before you. A name every Zaunite knew well. He was the hand behind nearly every illegal operation in the city, ruling the criminal underworld with absolute power as the leader of the Chem-Barons.

Silco. To the public, an industrialist. But beneath that mask, he was Zaun’s crime lord. Ruthless. Brilliant. Charismatic.

He wasn’t the only one who had done some digging on you. You had looked into him as well.

The tension between you grew heavier with every passing second, neither of you willing to yield. At last, Silco leaned back and broke the silence with a broad, affable smile.

“I must admit, I rather like you,” he said. It didn’t sound like flattery. In fact, it was one of those rare moments when Silco seemed to speak with genuine candor. For a fleeting second, something unreadable flickered in his lone blue eye as he studied your face. “Perhaps I can help you stay hidden from your charming little family drama.”

Your breath caught, brows knitting slightly. “You already knew?”

“It wasn’t hard to guess. “Rhodri is gravely ill, and now Stevan and Camille, your half-siblings, are clawing at each other to take control. I imagine they don’t think very highly of a bastard daughter. And Zaun, which happens to be my territory, is a convenient place to escape the reach of the great Clan Ferros. Am I wrong?”

There was something in his eyes you didn’t like at all. A softness that borders on pity. Or worse, sympathy.

"Close enough, but not entirely," you nodded slowly, seeing no point in hiding anything from this man. "I understand now why they made you the leader of the Chem-Barons."

“If you were mine, you wouldn't have to worry about Ferros meddling in your life again.”

“You mean you want me to be your whore?”

Silco shook his head and gave a half-shrug. “That hadn’t crossed my mind, but I wouldn’t say no to it either.” A sly, amused smile curved his lips. “The truth is, we’ve been planning to expand our trade operations into Topside. Having a lovely Piltovan lady who is well acquainted with that place on our side would be quite useful.”

You weren’t foolish enough to fall for flattery. You knew exactly how much value your Ferros name held for him.

He wanted inside knowledge of the various factions in Piltover, especially the noble houses. More than that, he intended to use you as a key to the city’s trade. The people of Piltover would never conduct business with Zaunite criminals—not directly. But with you as part of his organization, the gates of the market might open just a little easier.

That was what Silco wanted. But it wasn’t what you wanted. Not in the slightest.

“I remember you once said you didn’t like Pilties.”

“And I remember making an exception just for you.”

This didn’t feel like a negotiation at all. It was more like a familiar argument between two people who had known each other too well. And you know Silco sensed it too, from a subtle smile tugging at the corner of his lips. Luckily, he wasn’t offended. That gave you enough courage to stand your ground and refuse him properly.

“I appreciate the offer, but I still think it’s wiser if we stay out of each other’s way.”

You sighed softly and gave him a small, polite smile before lifting the now-cold coffee to your lips. At least the bitterness helped dull the lingering effects of your hangover. You stood to your full height and extended your hand. "I suppose that wraps things up, then."

Silco didn’t take your hand immediately. He studied you with an unreadable gaze before rising and finally accepting your handshake. “I’ll walk you out.”

You didn’t get the chance to agree or refuse. Silco placed a hand on your back and guided you forward with calm precision. Together, you passed through a series of spacious, elegant rooms, each one eerily empty and echoing a strange loneliness. You wondered why he isolated himself like this but decided it was best not to ask.

At the wrought-iron gate in front of the estate, Silco took your hand again in farewell.

"Until next time," he said.

Not a chance, you thought, though you didn’t say it. You simply smiled politely, then turned to leave without looking back. Even so, you could feel his sharp gaze following you until you vanished from sight.

At the time, you didn’t think much of it, only relief that you’d escaped that strange encounter.

But if you had paid more attention to his parting words, you might have been more cautious.

Because no one dares say no to the Kingpin and get away with it.. That was a truth you would come to understand deeply later.

『• • • ✎Footnotes • • •』

(For anyone who doesn’t play LoL) Clan Ferros is actually real in the lore. They’re one of Piltover’s oldest mercantile clans. Since Ferros sounds Italian, I made them an Italian mafia family in my fic.

Ps. It’s a Peaky Blinders AU, so it doesn’t follow Arcane canon at all. Some characters are tweaked to fit the vibe, kind of OOC yeah, but I try to keep Silco as close to canon as I can.

[axkirak]

for all the writers out there, no matter where you are in your journey🤍

[axkirak]

Just finished reading Old Dog, and MY. GOD. 👁️👄👁️ reading it was like a delicacy, it was beautiful. The tension between them, especially post sex when they realized it was more than just sex ugh it tugged at my heart strings. Seeing Silco vulnerable for that short moment was delicious. If you do plan to write a second chapter I will definitely be around to read it 😭 thank you for writing this!

Thank you so much. I kept rereading your message with a smile on my face😆

I didn’t think anyone would like Old Dog this much, to be honest.

I’m usually not that confident about my writing. Posting the Silco fic was kinda scary for me. Back when I wrote the Viktor fic (Kiss and Make Up), I got harassed really badly, and it honestly made me scared to post anything after that. I kept worrying maybe I didn’t write Silco Character well enough, or that people wouldn’t like it. But turns out a lot of people liked this one. And the support from Anons like you really helped. It made me feel a lot better about writing.

You’re the third person asking about Chapter 2 of Old Dog, lol. Honestly, I don’t really know. It was meant to be just a one-shot, and I didn’t expect so many people to ask for more.

I’m not sure I could write a second part that’s as good as the first, And I don’t have any ideas right now. But I’m not saying no either. I just… haven’t figured out how to continue it😂😂😂 If you have any ideas for Chapter 2, feel free to send them to my inbox. I’m open to anything.

P.S. I was surprised when I opened my inbox and saw messages from so many Anons talking about Old Dog I don’t know if someone shared it somewhere, but thank you so much for the support. This is the first time anyone’s shown this much love for something I wrote. Usually, no one really pays attention. It always feels like I’m writing for myself, 😢 Your message really means a lot to me.

[axkirak]

Did you know Silco runs a cosmetics line as well as a drug cartel?

[axkirak]

omgggg, I just read Old Dog & it was absolutely immaculate!! ❣️❣️❣️

I love how your writing style made me feel like I was actually in the moment, experiencing heartbreak and having those moments with Silco!!

I would love a 2nd chapter & probably more, (no pressure though) it's a really reallyyy great story!!! 100/10 because you're not like other fic writers, I think you literally have your own level & it really left me (maybe others also) wanting more ❣️❣️❣️

Wow, this is honestly the nicest compliment I’ve ever gotten about my writing. thank you sm

I’m really glad you liked my writing style. English isn’t my first language, so writing something this long has always been a challenge for me.

TBH, Old Dog was never meant to be a long fic. actually, I planned for it to be much shorter, lol.

But I tend to get carried away with long writing. Because when I write, I don’t think in words. I see full scenes in my head(probably because I studied film.🎥 )That’s why my writing style leans into visual storytelling and character expressions. I want readers to see what I see in my head.

So yeah, Old Dog ended up way longer than I expected. and I was honestly a bit worried it might be too rambly, but your feedback really gave me a confidence boost.😭💖

As for Chapter 2, I can’t promise anything yet since I didn’t plan a long-term plot(Old Dog was meant to be a one-short fic) Still, I’m not against continuing it, especially since a lot of people seem to like it.

The only problem is I still have no idea what to write next, 😅😅

Well, If you have any fun or interesting ideas for where the story could go, feel free to share with me. I’m totally open to it.