fictionandfixation - Tumblr blog

fictionandfixation · 1 year

Note

astro rug sex plzzzz

Me? Inky-Slowpoke-Dagger churning out a fic request just two days after it was sent in? It's a bloody Christmas miracle. Also yeah the title's a carpet pun. Sue me.

Shag Rug

Silco x Reader || Silco x Astrid || Established Relationship || NSFW || MDNI || Messy passionate floor sex || Oral [m!receiving] || Two horny idiots in love || Carpet burns || Wc: 1.9K

Written for Astro but can be read as general AFAB!Reader

Drink With Me Masterlist🥃

It’s a wonder you even made it into the office.

With how carelessly you’d rushed up the stairwell with Silco – far more concerned with ensuring your mouths remained connected than with maintaining safe footing on the steps. And with how you’d ricocheted down the hallway together like a horny pinball. Rattling the hanging decor as you crashed into the walls again and again, hopelessly entangled, tearing at each other with hands and lips and teeth.

And so it doesn’t surprise you in the least that you never make it to the bedroom.

Silco’s shoulders hit the office door hard, and it slams shut beneath your combined weight; pressed as you are against his front with your hands fisted in the lapels of his coat. Your teeth clack against his with the ferocity of your kiss, and he repays in kind by shoving his tongue at least two-thirds of the way down your throat.

Janna you love it when he gets messy. Such a change from his usual pristine control.

Although it hardly seems fair that he remains fully dressed (still in his outerwear, no less) whilst you yourself appear to have misplaced a shoe, and your top is clinging on for dear life after the loss of several buttons. But neither of you currently possesses the patience to achieve full nakedness. So you prioritise.

The crack of your knees hitting the floor is softened somewhat by the rug, and though your hands fumble in your urgency, you’ve done this enough times now that you’ve mastered the puzzle box that is Silco’s trousers.

You tear the fabric down around his thighs and his cock springs free. You had other plans in mind, but the temptation you’re faced with now is too great to overcome.

“Fuck,” the crown of Silco’s head thuds back against the door as you clumsily capture the bobbing head of his cock between your swollen lips and set to lavishing it. Whatever you lack in finesse, you make up for in wet frenzy.

He watches you beneath lust heavy lashes as you tongue and suck his glans until it’s as flushed and glistening as his parted, kiss-marred lips. Fingers tangle in your hair, tightening with a rough groan from above as you take him properly into your mouth, cheeks hollowing to glide hot and tight down his shaft.

Silco’s hips buck as he bumps the back of your throat, and you let out a needy whine, hand snaking between your own legs to palm your clothed crotch in a bid for friction. The fingers in your hair twist and pull, delicious pain blooming across your scalp as Silco yanks you off his cock, leaving you connected only by a thick string of saliva.

“Need you. Now,” he pants, chipped teeth and mismatched eyes flashing with a lawless, desperate hunger.

For the most part your communication with Silco is excellent. You’re in-tune with each other to a point that transcends verbal interaction. But it seems those unseen radio frequencies are currently scrambled by a swarm of hormones – because while you make to stand, Silco makes to kneel.

You crash into each other, losing your balance entirely and tumbling backwards into a tangled heap on the rug.

But Sump-Rats are hardly known for their decorum.

Between two pairs of scrabbling hands your trousers and remaining boot are cast aside, and then he’s swooping down upon you, his high collared coat fanning out to shroud you both like some vampiric cloak. And you’re so damn worked up that he sinks inside you with no resistance.

Your mouth falls open in an embarrassingly wanton moan at the brisk pace Silco sets. Each thrust culminating in a lewd slap of skin that gradually worsens with how your slick begins to coat your thighs. You cross your ankles within the crimson-lined cavern of his coat, pressing your heels into his lower back and rolling your hips up to match his feverish rutting. Baring your throat to accept each glistening jewel he sucks into your skin. Combing fingers through salt and pepper strands, twisting, tugging. Keeping his body pressed flush against yours. Ignoring the coarse fibres beneath your back, even as your shirt bunches up to your waist.

Completely, utterly lost within this incendiary cyclone of passion you’ve both conjured.

“Will you ever. learn. to behave?” Silco growls, punctuating each word with a snap of his hips.

Well that’s hardly fair. What were you supposed to do when he returned to the club from his dockside meeting? Just ignore the fact that he looked so yummy with sea-breeze mussed hair? You’re only human.

Besides. He didn’t have to come over to the bar when you gestured. Nor take a seat. Nor accept your offer for a cocktail. But he did, and you were therefore well within your rights to use the cover of passing him his glass to quietly inform him just how fuckable he looked.

He'd even responded with a dirty remark of his own, low enough not to be overheard by any loitering clubbers. And really he should know by now that you never back down from a challenge. He's just as much to blame as you for the resulting volley of surreptitious comments that had passed between you, each filthier than the last, until he'd snapped. Storming behind the bar and snatching your wrist, frogmarching you through the club and up to the balcony – the wrathful Eye of Zaun dealing with an unruly employee in the eyes of those who'd turned to watch your journey.

“Is that re-eally want you want? For me to start –ughn– behaving?” You clench your core around him to prove your point, and his brow twists.

“No,” the single word is closer to a whine than anything else.

“G-good. It’s much more fu–uhn misbehaving.”

“Brat,” he growls, more gristle than voice, “Beautiful. Insufferable. Brat.”

His lips crash into yours in a flaming kiss, capturing and swallowing the ragged whine which pushes from your throat as his quick thrusts morph into indulgently deep grinds.

“But you’re mine. My-ngh beautiful brat,” he babbles against your mouth between desperate kisses and rasping grunts, “You drive me m-mad. You—Intolerable. Hngh. Menance— Gods I love you—”

His words set you alight like an oil soaked wick and leave you burning. You’re never in doubt of Silco’s feelings for you, but he’s a man much more comfortable expressing himself through action. It’s a rarity to hear him voice his affections so plainly; those three words usually only reserved for moments of particular sentimentality, or instances of uncontrolled passion, such as now.

“S-Silc-oh,” you mewl, feeling for all the world like you truly are aflame. Driven closer to ultimate rhapsody by each rolling drive of his hips; both carnal and sensual all at once.

His fingertips drag clumsily over your features, “I adore these eyes. These lips—”

Your skin is on fire—

“Your heart—”

Like. Actually on fire.

“Hot ass,” you gasp.

Silco smirks, “That too.”

“No – I mean my ass— C-carpet burn.”

He stills instantly, right eye widening as he makes to pull out—

“Nononono,” you beg, locking your ankles and grabbing at his sleeves, “Don’t stop. Just— lift.” You lift your bottom a touch and he catches on, hooking his arms beneath your thighs, gripping your hips, and rising fully onto his knees.

The relief is immediate – your buttocks and most of your spine now elevated right off the rug. Half of you misses the intimate press of his body, but the other half of you thrums at this bizarrely hot bridge pose you find yourself in. The way you can look right up the length of your own arched torso to where he’s buried inside you. The way the position grinds his cock against your sweet spot just so.

“Yes— yes!—” your ragged chant rings out in approval as he picks up his sinful rhythm once more. Watching you greedily; how prone and lewd you are stretched beneath him. Long thumbs pressing into your hip bones, fingers digging into flesh, your legs squeezing tighter and tighter around him as your pleasure begins to mount—

—and slip away with the swiftly worsening burn of your shoulder blades; now bearing the brunt of your weight and offered little-to-no protection from the spiteful fibres of the rug by your flimsy shirt.

“No— no—” you whimper, flinging your arm over your face to hide your sulking pout.

But Silco is always your salvation. Silly of you to forget that irrefutable fact, really.

His grip on you shifts, tightens, and your vision darkens beneath his looming shadow only momentarily before you’re rolling. You come to a halt neatly straddled atop him.

“Your back—”

“Don’t worry about my back darling,” he insists, flattening out his coat beneath your knees to protect them from the rug, “I’m wearing more layers than you are.” He grabs your waist then, deepening the upward buck of his hips, “A-and I’m close.”

“Mmmn, my hero,” you swoon, leaning down to kiss him deeply, your pelvis rolling a passionate tempo that has you both breathing heavy, heady little sighs and moans into each other’s open mouths. Your fingers delve into the sea-salt-mussed locks that had lured you into this situation in the first place, messing the dark waves even further, “My handsome, magnificent hero. Love of my life.”

His green eye swirls liquid jade beneath a fan of lashes, the other molten amber in an obsidian sea, but both shine with an adoration that breaks your heart so beautifully.

“I would do anything – anything for you,” you vow between messy kisses, palms framing the narrow cut of his jaw, “Anything Silco. I’m yours – so completely.”

“Will you come for me sweetheart? Let me f-feel you. See you.”

There’s no need to confirm your answer, not when you’ve just promised him the world.

You steal one more bruising kiss, and your hands drag down Silco’s golden gilded torso as you straighten. Your thighs tremble not only from exertion, but from the explicit backbend you arch into, seeking to replicate the mind-blowing angle from before, reaching back to brace your hands upon his shins.

The snarl of approval Silco makes is more beast than man, and its rumblings spur you on. Fingers drilling into trousered flesh. Hips grinding in quick, feverish rolls. Chest pressing proudly outwards as his hand reaches up to splay upon your sternum, dragging down, down, until his thumb lands on your clit.

He doesn’t even need to move it. Your own rocking pelvis causes his pad to press and circle once, twice, three-times; and that is all that’s needed to send you flying.

You cry out your ecstasy, fingers drilling into his shins as you ride and grind your way through throbbing bursts of pleasure, each one battering your body like some tropical storm. Leaving you rain-drenched, exhilarated, howling euphoric laughter up to the thundering heavens.

But your true paradise lays below.

It’s in the elegant hands which wrap around your waist. The chipped pearls which peek between parted, kiss-stained lips. The eyes which in themselves contain full treasuries: emeralds and jade and turquoise, sun stones and garnets and onyx.

Paradise is in your name; uttered like a broken prayer as Silco finds his own paradise in you.

His warmth floods you, pulsing gushes between your thighs that have you sighing breathless praises. Telling him how beautiful he looks, with his hair all a mess and his face twisted in orgasmic ruin beneath you. So beautiful.

“Beautiful,” you whisper, finally collapsing atop his heaving chest.

His arms wind around you tight, holding you quietly close whilst you both catch your breath.

“Does it hurt?” Silco asks after a time, sliding a hand down your spine to stroke lightly over the smarting-raw skin of your backside.

“Mm just a little,” you hum, pressing up on his chest to drop three lazy kisses upon his lips between your words, “But I’m certain my hero will rub lotion on it for me.”

Silco’s mouth curls up at the corner, “Yes,” he chuckles, “I’m certain he will.”

230 notes · View notes

fictionandfixation · 1 year

Text

Gatsby Silco 🖤

265 notes · View notes

fictionandfixation · 1 year

Text

Tailor-Made (Chp 9)

Chapter 9—Haute Couture (AO3)

Previous chapter: Chapter 8

Tailor-Made Masterlist

Rating: Explicit. Minors DNI

Chapter tags: Silco x Fem!Reader, Reader-Insert, Eventual Smut, Eventual Romance, Slow Burn, Set between Acts 1 and 2 of Arcane;

Chapter word count: 5.2k

Chapter Beta Reader: @deny-the-issue

Total word count: 25.7k

Series summary:

Sewing has always had a way of stilling your anxious heart and nervous mind. But with a lull in customers, you worry you may have to close up your shop or find another means of income. Until the day a mysterious man and his young daughter step through your front door and into your life.

Thursday morning, after stopping briefly by Faye’s bakery with Griff for some breakfast, you return to the shop. Your son sits in the back room reading, still unaware of the tutoring arrangement you and Silco had established. You thought to tell him sooner but wanted to talk to Faye first before you did. After dealing with the morning rush, Faye steps away from the bakery for a few minutes to chat, excited to hear how it went with Griff’s future tutor.

"Do you remember Em? From way back?" you ask as you sweep loose thread and dust off the floor.

"Em…" Faye ponders, head tilted up to the ceiling, eyes squinting.

"Parents ran a shop across from the bakery,” you add, trying to jog her memory. “They sold like… knick-knacks and toys. Shop was only there for like a few years before they went out of business."

At that, Faye’s eyes light up as they meet yours, a wide smile spreading across her face as she snaps her fingers.

"Oh yeah! Em!” Her face shifts back to one of deep thought. “I wonder what he's up to…"

You chuckle as you crouch down to pick up the dustpan. After dumping its contents into a nearby trash can, you wipe off the dust from your hands with a few claps and straighten up.

"Well, she's a tutor."

Faye turns to you, eyebrows raised. "What? No way!"

You nod.

“She’s a tutor?” Faye repeats.

“Yes,” you answer, your smile growing wider.

Faye's lips come to a pout as she nods her head sagely. She mumbles something under her breath, clearly meant just for herself but you catch it.

“Good for her…”

Em had always been a little bit different from the other kids you knew growing up. A little shy, a little quiet; nothing like the loud and rambunctious Faye. For the short time you knew Em, she always seemed so unsure of her place in the Undercity, like she was trying out different things and coming up empty. But after seeing her at The Last Drop, you could see that she had figured out exactly who she was and where she belonged. It made your heart fill with such joy knowing she had not only come out of her shell but seemed to be positively thriving.

You put the broom away in the closet, returning to the register. Faye jumps up from the stool, offering it to you before jumping to sit on the counter. You watch her face, gears slowly turning in her head as you take a seat.

"Wait….” Puzzle pieces come together. “As in Silco's daughter's tutor?"

“Yup,” you say, a small laugh on your lips.

"Oh wow, what are the chances of that?" she says, voice soft with incredulity.

"I know! She goes by Emerald now,” you add. “Also still goes by Em, so that makes it even easier."

"Yeah, no kidding,” Faye says, grabbing a donut hole from the large bag she had brought from the bakery for you and Griff. “That's amazing! So… I assume it went well?"

You cast your eyes down towards the counter, lips curling up at the edges. "It did."

"You sound almost surprised."

“No, it’s just…” You feel a flush creeping into your cheeks.

“What?” Faye asks around another donut hole.

“Something else happened.”

Faye’s eyes widen and she swallows down her bite quickly to yell, “What?!”

“I’m…” the rest of your words come out as a quiet muffle.

“Come again?”

“I’m having lunch with Silco tomorrow.”

Faye’s eyes now the size of saucers, her mouth open in the biggest grin you’ve ever seen, she grabs you by the shoulder and shakes.

“Oh! My! Fucking! Gods!” She emphasizes each word with a shake.

“Faye! Language!” you exclaim, eyes darting to the back room. “Griff is here!” you say through clenched teeth.

“Oh, sorry!” she whispers, eyes still alight with joy. For a second, she’s speechless. Her mouth opens and closes as she tries to put into words what she’s feeling. “How? How did it happen? Details!”

“Well…”

You launch into a retelling of the previous day’s events, from meeting Emerald to watching her and Jinx’s lesson. You describe the classroom and how you had been worried about it being at the bar, but with the locked back entrance and the guard posted at the end of the hallway, there really is no reason to suspect Griff would come into contact with any of the bar’s unruly patrons. As you talk, Faye listens attentively, nodding her head silently. You decide to leave out the part where Silco whispered into your ear to meet him upstairs, for fear of how Faye might spontaneously combust upon hearing such a detail.

“We talked in his office and he offered me lunch, but I said no.”

Faye’s eyes squint disapprovingly.

“But!” you rush to defend yourself. “I then… I then said maybe he could come by Friday while Jinx and Griff are in class and he could get me lunch then...” Your voice trails off and your eyes pointedly avoid Faye’s burning gaze.

You finally turn back to your best friend to see the most wicked grin across her face. It’s dark and sinister. One of her eyebrows cocks upwards teasingly.

“So he’ll be here tomorrow?”

“Faye, please—”

“As in if I stop in for a bit, I could maybe get a little peek at this mysterious handsome stranger that has stolen your heart?”

“Faye, oh my gods, no,” you hide your face behind your hands, shaking your head, regretting ever telling Faye anything at all. “Please, don’t. I would not be able to handle it.”

She pouts but concedes.

“Fine.” She crosses her legs, leaning back as her hands rest on the countertop. “First date. I’ll let you have your privacy.”

For once, you don’t correct her about it being a date because, deep down, you sincerely hope it is.

“Thank you, Faye.”

She smiles in return before plopping the last of the donut holes in her mouth.

“But if you two go on another date, you have to stop by the bakery so I can meet him.”

You roll your eyes, letting out a deep sigh.

“Fine.”

Faye grins triumphantly.

Friday morning, you walk with Griff to The Last Drop. He skips next to you, his large backpack bouncing with each step. Unsure of what to bring for him since you'd never hired a tutor before, you had packed some pencils, crayons, the new notebook you had promised him, and his lunch. As you get closer to the bar, doubt starts to seep in.

You've never been apart from Griff for more than a couple of hours, always just within reach.

Maybe this was a bad idea. What if something happens to him?

Looking down at your son, you suspect you're much more nervous for his first day of school than he is.

First day of school.

You remember hearing about Pilty parents crying their eyes out sending their children off to the first day of school. How their school weeks spanned five days rather than just three. Topside parents could afford to not only pay for that much schooling but also afford not to have their children working. Zaunite kids learn early that they have to help in some form or fashion. The idea of focusing solely on schoolwork is very much a Piltover practice that you admit you had instilled in your son.

Because one day I want him to get the hell out of here.

You arrive at the back alley and hit the call button. There's a buzz, then static.

"What's your business?"

"Here for tutoring."

Buzz. Click.

Walking down the hallway, you see the door to the classroom already open. Emerald stands at her desk, pulling out supplies from her bag. You look around. No Jinx yet.

Emerald spots you, eyes immediately darting down to your son.

"This must be Griff!" she says, smiling widely.

Griff's demeanor shifts immediately from excitement to shyness, his wide smile tensing into a thin line. You laugh.

She disarms everyone.

Emerald crouches down to get eye level with him, offering a hand. He takes it in a loose handshake.

"Morning," he greets the floor.

You look up to see that a second desk has been brought in right next to Jinx's. There's a small sheet of blue paper on it, splattered with pink paint. Coming closer, you see it says "Welcome, Griff!" In big letters.

"Jinx made that for him," Em explains, just as the blue-haired girl walks through the door, her adoptive father close behind.

Griff and Jinx lock eyes just as you and Silco do. The kids share wide grins while parents exchange a more subdued smile.

"Morning, Silco."

"Morning," he says, followed by your name.

Your heart skips a beat and you turn your attention back to your son to hide the flush growing on your face.

"Okay, Griff, be good. Listen to your teacher. I know Jinx is here but remember: you're here to learn."

"Mooooom," he whines. "You make it sound so boring."

Emerald laughs behind you.

"Don't worry. I keep it fun." She turns to her other pupil. "Don't I, Jinx?"

The blue-haired girl nods enthusiastically.

As Silco holds the door open, waiting, you feel like you haven't said everything you want to say to your son. How proud you are of him, how worried you are for him, how he needs to make sure he pays attention so that his future can be as bright as he is. Eyes stinging, desperate to cling to this moment, you wrap your arms around Griff, before he gets the chance to sit at his desk.

"Mooooom!"

"I love you," you say, planting a kiss on his temple. “Be good,” you repeat.

You straighten up, looking between Emerald standing at her desk and Silco waiting at the door.

"Sorry, sorry. Okay, I'm going now."

You back out of the classroom towards the door, giving a frantic goodbye wave to your son, Emerald, and Jinx. Silco holds the door open for you, closing it and blocking the classroom from view after you step over the threshold.

In the hallway, you take a deep breath in, letting it out in a ragged exhale through your lips, eyes closing. You feel the warmth on your back and open your eyes to the sight of Silco looking at you with a soft expression.

“He’ll be okay,” he says, rubbing one small circle on your back before removing it. “He’s in good hands with Emerald.”

You nod silently, lips pursed in a thin line. After one more deep breath, you square your shoulders.

“Thank you,” you say, turning towards the back door. “I should get back to the shop.”

“Of course,” he says, walking with you. With a nod, he opens the door for you. “See you soon,” he says with a smile.

You dart through the crowd back to the shop, trying and failing to hide the blush on your cheeks.

You don’t get the opportunity to sew for yourself much, always putting off the simplest of projects like hemming a pair of pants or fixing a button for later but never quite finding the time or energy for it. For whatever reason, sewing outside of the business—even when it’s for yourself—feels daunting. You wonder if Faye ever feels the same way about her bakery.

However, a few months before meeting Silco, you did decide to take on a little project for yourself. You hadn’t planned on it initially, but after finding such a beautiful material, you couldn’t help but put some fabric aside for a dress.

On a trip to get more supplies for the shop, you found the most beautiful peau de soie fabric in magenta. In certain lights, it looked almost red; the color and hue seemed to shift based on what angle you looked at it. While you knew that this type of fabric was more difficult to work with, you fell in love with it. Sure, the price was a little expensive, but quality material always was. And what’s a little splurging every now and then?

As soon as you got the fabric and enough free time, you started to design the dress. Patterning the pieces by draping the gorgeous material on your dress form, you allowed it to flow and fall naturally, making note of how it wanted to behave on the mannequin. Once happy with all the pinning work, it was time for construction.

It was at this juncture that life interrupted your progress. You knew you wanted to add a touch of Piltie haute couture to it before construction by adding some hand-stitched elements to it, but then life got in the way. Work picked up, Griff had an accident that put him in a leg cast for eight weeks, and the dress stayed in storage.

You forgot all about it.

Once back at the shop, you busy yourself with cleaning to pass the time, your eyes darting to the clock every few minutes as you do. After the third time, you find yourself missing your son’s company. Having Griff in the shop always made the hours seem to fly by. You look around the shop, running out of ideas of what to do with yourself until Silco’s arrival.

I just need something to do with my hands.

You wander to the back room, absentmindedly straightening things on shelves, when you come across a bin you had forgotten about. Pulling it out, you open it to find magenta fabric staring back at you.

You poke your head out to check the clock again.

Eleven o’clock.

You chew the inside of your mouth.

We didn’t really set a time for lunch. I would assume somewhere around noon. Plenty of time to start this.

Grabbing an embroidery hoop and some white embroidery floss, you get settled behind the register. It’s been a while since you’ve done any embellishments like this; most Zaunite clientele want garments that could easily be washed and survive a little wear and tear. Embroidery is very much a Piltie practice. Nevertheless, you find yourself easing into the work, hands working diligently and precisely.

For your dress, you decide on a simple floral design to adorn the sleeve and skirt hems of the dress; nothing too extravagant.

The longer you sew, the more relaxed you feel. By the time the bell at the front door rings, you’ve already managed to finish one sleeve’s design. You hold it up in front of you, pleased with the work before setting it down and turning your attention to your customer.

Silco stands at the door in his signature waistcoat and burgundy shirt, hands behind his back as usual. He’s wearing the same dark coat you had seen him in on Wednesday along with his newly repaired pants. While you consider him, a small smile playing on your lips, you can’t help but feel that something is off. Something doesn’t quite fit.

It’s the coat.

His long dark gray coat with its frayed edges looks out of place with his practically-brand-new waistcoat and updated pants. It’s the one thing keeping him looking very much like a Zaunite and not a Piltie (not that you mind). Your eyes lift to the clock along the wall to see it’s exactly noon.

“Afternoon, Silco,” you greet, throwing away the loose embroidery floss and standing.

“Afternoon,” he replies, voice velvet as ever as he saunters to the counter. His orange and green eyes cast downwards, spotting the embroidery hoop on the counter. His good eyebrow quirks upwards curiously. “What’s this?”

“Oh,” you tuck the embroidery under the counter. “That’s just a little side project.”

He hums, a smile playing on his lips. His gaze meets yours and there’s something behind his eyes you can’t quite identify. Perhaps excitement?

“I brought you something,” he says, voice hushed.

“Oh really?” you ask coyly.

“Well,” he corrects himself, “it’s really more for both you and Griff.”

It’s your turn for your eyebrows to lift.

He brings one of his hands around to show you what looks like two small tickets, but you can’t tell what it is for. He answers your unspoken question.

“There is a fair of sorts happening across the river in two weeks’ time. I managed to secure some tickets.” He slides them both on the counter towards you. “I thought perhaps you and Griff would like to accompany Jinx and me for the day.”

We haven’t even had lunch yet and already he’s planning another outing?

Before you have time to analyze it further, Silco interrupts your thoughts.

“You can have the tickets regardless of whether or not you would like company. I understand it’s a little forward, given we haven’t even had lunch yet, but the fair will only be around for a couple of weeks. I thought Griff would enjoy it.”

You pluck the tickets from the counter, holding them up in the light. It’s a Piltover fair, if the ticket design itself is any indication. All golds and silvers, elegant fonts, and line art. It looks less like a ticket for a fair and more for a snooty gala. Regardless, you can’t help but smile at the thought.

You’ve never actually been Topside before. The closest you ever got was the Promenade level of Zaun and that was to get materials for the shop. Your mind wanders to the vision of visiting one of the many fashion districts in Piltover, a sight you’ve always wanted to see but have never been able to do. Maybe you could have before having Griff, but after he was born, visiting Topside became a pipedream.

Turning back to Silco, you can’t hide your surprise. Eyebrows raised, mouth a little agape, you laugh.

“Wow umm… Thank you, Silco,” you say, tucking a rogue strand of hair behind your ear. “I… don’t know what to say.”

“Say ‘yes,’” he smirks.

Heat immediately flushes to your cheeks at his forwardness and you break eye contact with him to stare down at your hands.

After straightening your skirt, you manage to compose yourself long enough to formulate a response.

“Impress me with lunch first, then we’ll see.”

“That is fair.” Silco nods, conceding. “Speaking of…”

It’s at this point that he removes his other hand from behind his back to reveal a small woven basket. It looks old and rough around the edges, darkened in spots and frayed in others. He places it gently on the counter between you. Tilting your head in question, you look from the basket up to his face, a smile spreading across your face.

“Is this a picnic basket?” you ask, laughing.

“You sounded concerned about going out for lunch and leaving the shop unattended. So, I thought you might like lunch coming to you.”

You pull back the lid to see a few sandwiches, some containers of fruit, a block of cheese, some crackers, and what looks like some jam pastries. Lifting the other side, you see two glasses and a bottle of what looks like Noxus wine.

“Quite the spread,” you say, impressed.

“Thank you. The jam pastries were Jinx’s idea.”

You look back up to see him grinning.

“She has good taste.”

Silco clasps both hands together, chin lifting as he surveys the shop. “Where would you like us to set up our picnic?”

Your eyes dart around the space, thankful that you had cleaned before his arrival. The cutting counter is clear but the thought of getting food on it and potentially ruining it worries you. There’s another counter with your machines, but clearing it off to make room for the food would take too long. The counter you’re currently standing at is clear enough but there’s only one stool. The chair for customers in the lobby wouldn’t be high enough to reach.

“Maybe just here?” you say, looking at the cash register counter. “I can grab a stool from upstairs so you can sit.”

“That won’t be necessary; I can stand.”

“No, no, no, I couldn’t have you do that. I’ll be right back, it’ll only be a minute.” You rush through the back room before turning back quickly to add, “You can hang your coat on the rack if you want! I won’t be long.”

As quickly as you can, you run up the stairs to your apartment. Grabbing the stool from the kitchen island, you hurry back down the stairs awkwardly clutching it to your chest. You almost miss the last step on the landing but manage to catch yourself, a small squeal escaping your lips as you do.

“Are you okay?” Silco calls out from the front room.

Heart racing and breath shaky, you find your voice. “I’m okay! Miscounted the steps.”

When you step out of the back room, you find Silco walking past the register to meet you, arms outstretched. He’s no longer wearing his coat and he’s rolled his shirt sleeves up to his elbows.

“Here, allow me.”

Your hands touch briefly as he takes the stool from you, carrying it to the opposite side of the counter.

With a flourish, Silco drapes a tablecloth you hadn’t noticed in the basket over the counter before setting each of the basket’s contents down for each of you. When he gets to the wine, his shoulders tense.

Is he nervous?

“I’m told this is one of the best wines but I’ve never been much of a wine drinker,” he says, eyes on the bottle.

“What do you like to drink?” you ask, bringing your elbow to rest on the tabletop.

“Bourbon.”

You hum, smiling.

“What is it?” he asks, tone wary.

“Oh, nothing. I—”

His eyebrows lift. Your chuckle nervously.

“It just seems very you is all,” you finally manage to get out meekly.

The edges of his lips curl upward.

“Oh?” He leans forward, bringing his elbows to rest on the counter between you, hands clasped, long fingers laced together. “You think you know me?”

You get a waft of what must be his cologne, sending warmth under your collar. Silco’s eyes hold yours and you cast your gaze downwards as you fidget with your hands.

“I don’t know, I can guess…”

“Please do,” he beckons.

“Well…” you help yourself to a grape from the basket. “You’re a businessman who works odd hours, with a young girl you just adopted.” You find a knife in the basket and start to carve off a slice of cheese for yourself to pair with a cracker. “You enjoy finer things like cigars and tailored clothing, so it would stand to reason you would like finer liquor.” You chew contentedly, covering your mouth as you finish your bite, laughing. “I can’t imagine you drinking beer, for instance.”

Silco tilts his head, seemingly agreeing with you.

“No, not anymore.” He plucks a grape from the vine, rolling it around his thumb and forefinger as he considers it. “I need something… faster,” he says before tossing the grape into his mouth.

“And what about you?” he asks, offering you a sandwich.

“What about me?” you ask as you peel back part of the napkin.

“Was I correct to assume you enjoy wine?”

You smile, dimples forming on your cheeks. “Guilty.”

Taking that as his cue, Silco pulls out a bottle opener from one of his pockets and pops open the bottle, pouring you each a glass. You nod in thanks as you take a small bite of the sandwich, eyes widening at the flavor. You look at Silco, then down at the sandwich, and then back to Silco.

“Is that?”

Silco nods.

“Where did you find it?” you ask before taking a much larger bite.

“I have my methods,” he says, popping another grape into his mouth.

You take another hungry mouthful, almost completely forgetting your manners. “I can’t remember the last time I had real butter. Probably not since I was a kid. That’s amazing!”

Silco lets out a short exhale from his nose, clearly amused at your reaction.

“It’s all about who you know.”

You cover your mouth as you finish your bite, eyes fixed on the man in front of you.

“Are you not going to have any?”

Silco leans back, hands coming to rest in his lap. “I couldn’t. This is for you.”

“Silco,” you say sternly, unintentionally using the mom voice usually reserved for Griff. “I wanted to have lunch with you. Don’t make me eat alone.”

He looks up at you, lips a thin line. You hold his gaze, narrowing your eyes. After a few moments, Silco’s shoulders sag slightly and he reaches forward, grabbing a sandwich. You beam triumphantly. Silco takes a bite, pointedly avoiding your gaze.

For some reason, you get the feeling Silco doesn’t share meals with many people. Or maybe he doesn’t regularly eat meals at all.

No wonder he’s so skinny.

Your eyes rake up his bare forearms and your throat bobs.

Not skinny. That’s not the right word. Svelte.

You reach for the glass of wine, trying to hide the blush creeping into your cheeks at your thoughts. But Silco’s two-toned eyes are too quick, catching you.

“Something the matter?”

You shake your head vigorously.

“Are you sure?”

“Mmhmm! I’m fine!” you squeak out, setting the glass back down shakily. The glass tips over, sending wine cascading onto the tablecloths, some of it running down the edges of the counter. You both leap to your feet and you start to stammer through apologies.

“Oh my gods, I don’t know what’s come over me. Let me go fetch some towels.”

You’re about to run upstairs when you see Silco, calm as ever, reach into the basket and pull out a couple of cloth napkins, coming around to your side of the counter to wipe what the tablecloth didn’t catch. He crouches down to get the sides of the counter before the wine can reach the floor.

“Oh! Thank you,” you mumble, surprised by his quick reflexes.

He straightens up, shaking his head.

“I’m afraid you’ll be left with some stains,” he says, motioning towards the counter. Three small, faint purple lines streak down the counter. “Did you get any on you?” he asks, stepping forward, his eyes raking over your form.

“No, I think I’m okay.”

Silco takes another step forward, his head tilted down as he looks at your skirt. His voice is soft when he speaks.

“There.”

His touch is so gentle you almost don’t feel it as he lifts the fabric of your apron at your thigh to pull it closer to him, revealing a small stained circle about an inch wide.

“Oh, that’s nothing. It’s fine. This apron has seen so many messes.”

“Shhh,” he hushes you, grinning as he brings the cloth to press into the stain. “Please, allow me.”

You stand like that for a moment as he dabs the wine off your apron. Your eyes can’t help but linger on his face as he does, his good eye squinting in concentration.

“I imagine we’re both used to messes,” he muses. “There, that’s better. Not perfect, but better.”

The stain is still there but not nearly as dark. You’re lucky your apron is already of a red hue that the wine almost blends in with it. Silco’s fingers absentmindedly rub small circles into the maroon fabric in his fingertips.

“Did you make this?” he asks softly.

You shift your weight. “I did.”

He lifts his chin and his eyes lock with yours, the glow of his orange eye warming your cheeks.

“It suits you.” His fingers lightly glide up the apron’s skirt. “Very flattering.”

Your words come out breathlessly as firelights infiltrate your stomach. “Thank you.”

“Is this new?” Silco’s fingertips gently touch the gold trim at the apron’s waistband, following the line toward your side. It sends a tingle up your spine.

“Do you like it?” you ask, fighting every urge to step forward and closer into his space. “I had leftover trim from your waistcoat. I thought it would look nice.”

“I do and it does,” he almost whispers, hand now stilling to hold your waist, a soft smile tugging at his lips. “Does this mean we match now?”

You cut off a smile, curling your lips between your teeth before whispering back, “I suppose it does.”

Without thinking, your hand mirrors his to lightly ghost over the gold trim of his refurbished waistcoat. You follow the edges of his lapels until your hand is resting on his shoulder. Your eyes meet his and maybe it’s the little bit of wine, or the proximity, or the fact that you haven’t been touched like this in a literal decade, but you can’t help holding your breath. Silco’s eyes dip to your lips before returning to your eyes. You try to get a read on him and get the feeling he’s doing the same with you.

Holding each other’s gaze, time seems to still.

Silco’s eyes flick down to your lips again, lingering there for a moment before he speaks softly, his breath soft on your skin.

“You’ve got a little on you.”

You blink, confused, a hand shooting up to wipe your cheek. He lets out a low laugh, shaking his head as he brings a hand up.

“Here.”

The tips of his fingers rest on your neck as he brings his thumb up to swipe gently at the corner of your mouth. Before you even have a chance to protest, he’s already pulling his hand away, bringing his thumb up to his mouth to suck away the small remnant of red wine off the pad of his finger. Your throat bobs at the display and Silco tilts his head towards the counter, back to your picnic.

“Jinx would be very upset if you did not get to try the pastry,” he offers.

Blinking away the flush creeping under your collar, you nod. “Of course.”

As you sit, Silco offers you one of the desserts. Looking in the basket, you see there’s only one more left. You start to reach for the butter knife.

“I should save some for Griff so he can try it,” you say as you start to cut it in half.

“Nonsense,” Silco says, nodding towards the remaining pastry. “That one is for him.”

“Then what about you?”

He waves his hands. “I’ve had plenty.”

“Come on,” you say, offering up the other half of yours. “I already finished cutting it.”

Again, you lock eyes with him in silent instruction. A grin forms on your lips as you get the feeling Silco rarely ever takes orders like these, let alone twice in a single day. But you decide to push your luck, curious.

Ocean green and volcanic orange eyes peer down at the little baked good in your hand and back up to your face before he lets out a resigned sigh and plucks it from your palm.

“You…” he says, resting his elbow on the countertop as he brings the pastry to his mouth, “seem incapable of taking ‘no’ for an answer.”

“I’m a mom,” you reply, mirroring his pose. “Comes with the territory,”

He chuckles before straightening up, lifting his chest, chin, and dessert in a mock toast. “To the children.”

You smile widely at that, bringing your pastry up to tap lightly against his.

“To the children.”

Stay tuned for Chapter 10!

A/N: Bit of a longer chapter! Eeeeeeee! Some physical closeness??? Silco already seemingly planning a second date with the fair?? MATCHING GOLD TRIM??? I've outdone myself bwahaha

Taglist: @averagecrastinator @mazikomo @writingmysanity @insult-2-injury @constant-fragmentation @ariaud @jennrosefx @ins0mniac-whack @steponmesilco @wonderwoman292 @sherwood-forests @leave-me-alone-silco @givemebeansnow @aeryntheofficial @dreamyonahill @lostbunn @eurydicethesage @thepineapplesimp @whatisafandom @redflag666 @violet-19999 @juicboxd @sageandberries-png @you-never-talk @noposwe @delta-is-here @toripandashady @ruthdied @MedievalPersephone @ice-queen-of-music @tasmanianlorikisser @rhynestonez @0muzzle0mutt0 @glitterandgoldfinds @pinkrose1422 @asterisms-room @cloudroomblog @jennithejester @dad-dumpster

Join my taglist!

88 notes · View notes

fictionandfixation · 2 years

Text

Welcome to the Lanes page 2

107 notes · View notes

fictionandfixation · 2 years

Photo

Just a quick nibble before dessert

392 notes · View notes

fictionandfixation · 2 years

Note

GIVE ME MORE VIKTOR X READER ANGST!!!! 😭 YOU WRITE IT SO WELL!! can I get something where he's being cold and distant to his s/o and not spending time with them at all even tho they are trying to do things with him, and then BOOM one day he notices another person trying to warm up his s/o and get to them ?? Perhaps a happy ending happens after a few misunderstandings and viktor finally being soft and spending time with them PLLEASEE AND THANK YOU

The Green Eyed Demon

Summary: After so long in your relationship trying to bite your tongue, it takes a green eyed demon to finally get the two of you to talk about the things you needed to.

Word Count : 4.5 K

From the start, your relationship with the inventor was anything but normal. Dating wasn’t really something that the two of you did, mostly spending time with each other when it had something to do with your shared interests.

Seminars on recent scientific discoveries, workshops on how to use new equipment, and the almost daily coffee breaks were the closest things to ‘dates’ you would imagine.

And it had been perfect, well perfectly acceptable. Yes, you were a romantic at heart and you had hoped that maybe Viktor would have spent a little bit of time when it came to holidays. However, after not doing anything with you on the first couple of them that came around during your time together, you were just going to have to swallow the fact that Viktor did not view them the same way you did.

So you dealt with it, watched as couples would exchange gifts and chocolate, how some would surprise their lovers with flowers or little treats. All the while Viktor never really seemed to want any of those things. Even when you yourself had tried to be the one to give him gifts, you found that it had only been a bother.

You had spent far longer at the flower shop than you had wanted to, but after allowing the store owner to explain that the flowers had certain meanings you had wanted to create a bouquet that would tell the man of your feelings correctly.

The flowers were to try and brighten his workspace, knowing that he had been working like crazy to finish before a deadline. Since you knew that your time together wouldn’t be possible, you had hoped that maybe seeing something that both reminded him of you and your belief in him would help.

So you had gotten hydrangeas for good luck, chamomile for patience in adversity, clematis for mental beauty, goldenrod for encouragement and finally a single red rose for love.

You knew that he probably wouldn’t know a single thing about flowers, but it was a secret message for you to know about. So as you slipped into the lab, finding him hunched over his desk, you softly placed the vase on a free part in the corner.

“Why are you putting that nonsense on my workstation?”

Well, that wasn’t what you were expecting to be his greeting. The tiredness was clear from his voice but that didn’t help you keep the hurt from creeping in. He was just blunt when he was tired, he wasn’t really meaning that your actions were nonsense.

“Ah, well, I wanted to brighten up your lab. I know we can’t spend much time together-”

“So you interrupt to have this conversation on flowers?” He interrupted, still not having looked up from the paper that he was quickly scribbling on. “I do believe I told you about the deadline and that I wouldn’t have time for your distractions.”

“...you said we wouldn’t have time for dates…not distractions..” You mumbled softly, Viktor’s eyes snapping up to yours with irritation at the sass that you had responded with. Instantly, you wanted to crawl under the desk and hide, it not being often that you earned his ire.

“So you’ve come not only to disrupt my work, to waste space on my desk with useless plants, but now you also want to start an argument over the specifics of wording?” There was a heavy sigh, his hand coming up to rub at his temple. “Just get out, before you make things worse, just go”

And so you had. With your metaphorical tail between your legs, you headed for the door. Glancing back, you wondered if Viktor could glance your way, but your heart broke instead. He was up, carrying the flowers to the trash bin only a few feet away from him before returning to his desk. His eyes not even flicking your way for a moment as you stood in the doorway watching.

So from then on, you hadn’t wasted your time on trying to be romantic. And as much as it killed you every time to see couples across campus doing the things that you wished you could do yourself, you continued to tell yourself that you were happy.

Once the deadline for the project had passed, Viktor had been so sweet and kind. He had apologized for his harshness and had made an effort to make it up to you for the weeks after. However, he also quickly would fall back into his old patterns.

Every time there was a project deadline, founders day, an important presentation, everytime he would become distant and harsh. At first it was only a few times a year, around the time that everyone was a little hostile as they dealt with finals. However, as soon as he got into working with Hextech and Jayce, he almost always had a project that he was working on.

Instead of having weeks of the Viktor you had fallen in love with, you would get days…if that.

Slowly, it had started to feel like you were dating in name alone. It just felt weird to say that you were Viktor’s partner at the galas he would bring you too, having not even remembered the last time the two of you had spent time alone together.

Everyone had found it adorable that the two of you had come to the party with your colors matching, you being the only one to know that it was because Viktor had sent you to the store with his money and instructions to have the two of you match. It wasn’t romantic like they seemed to believe, and even though you had wished to have these moments…it didn’t feel the same knowing that he was simply doing it so Jayce would get off his back.

As the gala went on, you found yourself silently watching the dancers as you stood alone. Just like every gala before.

It was always the same, the four of you would arrive. Jayce with Mel, and you with Viktor. The two men would go off and talk to investors and patrons, before Jayce would go enjoy the party with Mel and Viktor snuck off to head back to the lab.

As you sipped from your champagne, you watched as Jayce and Mel danced, smiling at each other with clear affection that you couldn’t remember the last time feeling. Quickly downing the glass, you had been about to just call it a night and head home alone as you always did. However, as you went to turn, you found yourself nearly running into someone who had been moments away from speaking to you.

“Oh, I’m so sorry”

The man hastily maneuvered the two drinks he had been holding out of the way, making sure that the little drops of liquid that escaped wouldn’t end up on your dress. And as he looked over you to make sure that he hadn’t spilled any, you couldn’t help but look him over as well.

Soft brunette hair, freckles painted across his cheeks, and bright green eyes. There were aspects of him that reminded you of the man who had abandoned you that evening, but of the version that you had met at the beginning of your relationship. The nervous energy he had as he held out the drink to you, not seeming to really know what to say at first. It was so similar to how Viktor used to approach you all those years ago.

“I..I uh, I saw that you were almost done with your glass.” He mumbled, gesturing towards the empty one you were holding. It was then that he seemed to remember that he had never introduced himself, giving a hasty bow before clearing his throat.

“Apologies, I am Philip Ferros, it is a pleasure to finally speak with you” As he bowed, you couldn’t help feeling a little nervous as well from the last name. Anyone in Piltover knew about the higher families, so to have one of them speaking with you was a little nerve wracking.

“The pleasure is all mine” Introducing yourself, you couldn’t help the heat that rose to your cheeks as he repeated it with a smile. When was the last time that you’d blushed?

As the two of you stood to the side, you quickly found your nervousness melt away to a friendly conversation. Finding that when you went home that night, that the small bit of kindness that was shared with you was enough to hold back the pain of finding your bed empty once more.

Every few months when there was another gala, the two of you would meet. The conversations were light, mostly to allow the two of you to be doing something other than just silently standing and watching. But over time even he had noticed how you always came together with Viktor to only end up leaving alone.

“So, who is the fellow you come here with, the one with the cane?” He had asked suddenly, nearly causing you to choke on the drink that you had been sipping from.

“W-What? Oh, that would be Viktor. He…well, I am sure you know of Hextech” You asked, seeing him nod. “Well, he is the other half of the partnership and isn't the best with large crowds.” You had started before smiling a little as Philip simply allowed you the space to speak what you wished.

“But you wouldn’t believe how smart he is. I’ve never seen anyone able to work as hard as he does, to be so dedicated to his work, to helping people. I’ve known him for years and even back then it was clear he would do big things.”

There was a soft hum from the man beside you, seeing how you lit up the moment the conversation was about the man.

“And yet, you always leave alone?”

Even if his words had been said in a soft way, they didn’t hurt any less, something that he must have realized as he continued.

“Not that it is any of my business, you don’t need to answer that if you don’t want to. I apologize”

“No…no” You started, not wanting him to feel bad about speaking a simple fact. “You have nothing to apologize for”

Silently, the two of you watched the dancing, it not being till three songs later that you finally spoke.

“Viktor has always been rather single minded. When he is dedicated to something, that thing is the only thing on his mind till he completes it.” You knew that Philip was looking at you now, but you couldn’t get yourself to meet his gaze, knowing that if you did you might just start to cry.

“In the beginning of our relationship, there were days I felt what it was like to be the thing in his mind. He would make little gadgets to brighten my day or bring me lunch from my favorite cafe. Which, since he has the cane, made it all the more special as walking is not really something he likes to do.”

You chuckled at the memory, thinking back to how he had been so nervous about the food being cold since he had needed to take breaks on his way back. How Viktor had needed to sit down for a while after he had gotten there as his leg was throbbing in pain. It had been one of the sweetest things he had ever done for you.

“But he doesn’t do those things anymore, does he?”

Once again, his question cut through your like a knife through butter. This time, the tears you had been keeping inside for months now finally breaking free. Not even explaining yourself or wishing the man a good evening, you were out the door to return home.

After that, you had made sure to avoid going to the galas. You would feign sick whenever they would come. Viktor had noticed, but hadn’t voiced any concern about it, always just wishing that you felt better before heading out for the evening.

You didn’t want to hear anymore from Philip about your relationship. You had been trying your hardest to not allow Viktor’s complete disregard for you to heart. However, you knew that if Philip brought it up, it would just shatter what was left of your heart.

Though as the next founders day was coming up, Viktor had asked specifically if you could do your best to attend. Because of this, you couldn’t bring yourself to fake being sick again, heading to the event with nervousness.

Everything seemed to be going the same, the inventions being presented, Viktor and Jayce heading off to talk to the people they needed too. However, when you suddenly found a hand slip around your waist, you nearly screamed as you turned to find Viktor.

“Ah, apologies. I didn’t mean to frighten you” The man softly spoke, giving a lopsided smile before placing a kiss on your temple.

It was a little jarring to have him there, but in a good way. And as you leaned into his touch, you finally felt at home. This was what you had been missing for so long and as you soaked in his affection, he only pulled you closer.

“I’ve missed you…so much, Solnyshko.”

“Oh, so this must be the ever absent Viktor?”

Philip’s voice sent dread through your spine, normally at this point of the party, the two of you would meet to idly chat, but for once Viktor hadn’t slipped away like he normally did. Like always, two glasses were in Philip’s hands, having been about to hand you one of them before Viktor reached out to snatch it first.

“And you must not be relevant enough to mention as they have never spoken about you” As he spoke, he placed the glass on one of the trays a server was carrying, effectively getting rid of the offending offering.

“It’s no doubt you haven’t heard about me.” Philip muttered, taking a sip from his drink as his eyes narrowed. “That would have required talking with them, a thing they’ve said hasn’t really happened all that often.”

You could feel Viktor’s hand on your waist tense up, his eyes flickering to you as Philip downed the rest of his own glass.

“But no matter, Philip Ferros, I would say it is a pleasure to meet you but I’ve found it rather rude to lie” You watched as Viktor’s jaw tightened with anger, no doubt debating on just how much he would be willing to ruin Hextech’s future by insulting someone from a prominent family.

“Philip…that’s enough..” Your words fell on deaf ears, the man only smiling as he gestured towards you.

“It has been a great honor to have spent the previous events with your partner. When they stopped coming I couldn’t help but grow worried for my friend, which I am sure you are aware of”

There seemed to be so much information that the two of them were aware of that you hadn’t the clue about. But from what Philip was saying, something clicked in Viktor’s mind.

“So, that was why Jayce had been so insistent..” He mumbled softly to himself, his grip on your waist tightening as he pulled you closer to himself.

“I asked my father to put in a request to Mr.Talis for them to be present and it seems like that request was honored. After all, he does donate a great deal to your work.”

Philip’s words chilled you to the bone, reminding you of just who you had been talking to when you had divulged your worries and concerns. You wished to end this conversation, not liking the tone that the man was directing towards your lover.

“However, now that you are present as well, I can finally ask if it would be agreeable for your partner and I to have a dance”

It seemed that was the final bit of pushing that Viktor just wasn’t going to take. To hell with the money that they were receiving, he wouldn’t take a single coin if that meant having to stand aside.

“It is not agreeable and you will not be dancing with them” He hissed, his hand moving from your waist down to your hand, already moving to lead you away from the man.

“Then I guess they will never be able to dance at one of these events, seeing as you never will. Chem-stunted gutter rat”

You had been about to turn and snap at the man, whatever friendship the two of you had shared was ruined by the disrespect being shown. However, instead of responding like you had expected, Viktor only smiled over at you, letting go of your hand to hold out his arm for you to take instead.

“Would you do the honor of dancing with me?”

You were a blushing mess as you allowed yourself to be led out onto the dance floor. Even seeing Jayce look over at the two of you with a look of excitement.

As the music started, you were surprised to find how well Viktor was at the steps, leaving you feeling like you were floating around the room as he carefully led you. It had felt like a dream until you caught sight of Philip, your anger returning.

“Don’t pay any mind to him.”

“And why shouldn’t I? After what he said to you”

“Because he is inconsequential. Many won’t like me, that doesn’t change anything for me…unless it does for you?” He asked softly, throwing you for a loop as to why he was asking that.

“Why would that change anything for me?”

“Come now, I know of your….involvement with him. You didn’t really try to hide it, though before you think I am upset, I trusted you to know where the line was between friendship and something inappropriate. I never once was worried about your actions, it was his that were, well, unpredictable.” As the song ended, you had expected him to lead the two of you off the dance floor, only for him to give you a small smile as he led you into the next dance.

“When he put in the request for you to partake, using his influence in the hopes of you being here, I felt I needed to step in”

Sighing, you finally answered his question from before, resting your head on his shoulder as the two of you danced slowly to the song being played.

“Then, yes, it did bother me. I thought we could have been friends, I enjoyed having someone to talk with when here…I know you hate these events so I didn’t want to make you feel bad for leaving early”

There was a soft hum from the man, it only being once the song was about over that he asked the question he had been slowly stewing on.

“How often do you push down your feelings and desires in the hopes of not bothering me?”

Pulling away to look up at him. You only saw kindness and love on his face when you had expected to see him upset. And even though you had been about to deny it, as you felt a kiss being placed to your forehead you couldn’t find it in you to lie to him.

“...everyday…”

Even though the song was still going, dancers all around you both, Viktor came to a sudden halt as he took in exactly what that meant.

“E-Everyday?”

His tone was panicked, even if he also had a look like when he had a breakthrough when dealing with his own inventions.

“I’m sorry to cut tonight short, darling” He whispered, already starting to lead you out and away from any prying eyes and ears that might want to snoop into the conversation you would about to have.

It was only once you two had returned home, once the door was locked behind you both that the man broke.

“Why didn’t you say anything?! For weeks, no, months I have been thinking that you were slowly growing out of love for me! You hardly come to the lab anymore and if you do you never seem to truly be happy to be there!”

You watched as he was soon pacing back and forth, his voice raising not because he was yelling at you but because of the onslaught of emotions that he was going through. However, it was almost funny to hear how he thought you were falling out of love with him when he had been the one pulling away for so long.

“And why would I have been happy to be at your lab, hearing how often I was in the way or that the gifts I brought to you were annoyances.” At your words he paused, able to name all the times you had come in excited with something for him only for him to disregard it…or even complain about it.

“I invited you multiple times on dates and every time you shot them down. So I stopped asking, I tried to do things for the holidays and you always had a reason as to why my idea was silly, a waste of time. So I stopped.” You could feel the tears building, trying as hard as you could to keep them down.

“I have wanted so much from you, yet every time I hinted at it, you would push me away. So I stopped asking, I stopped hoping…”

The tears ended up slipping free anyway, unable to see just how distraught Viktor looked as he watched you break in front of him.

“I know you love me. I do. When you have the time and energy to spend with me, you are nothing but perfect and sweet. You are the most giving in bed and I feel safest when I am in your arms…but those moments are so rare. I knew getting with you that you would be busy, you have always been busy. I just…” You sniffed, hand coming up to try and soak up the tears spilling from your eyes.

“I just wish I didn’t want so much. If I could just be fine with what you were offering me, we would be perfectly happy…”

“Stop that, don’t you dare blame yourself for this” Viktor cut in. You felt the gentle touch of warm cloth against your cheeks. Peering through your tears, you saw that Viktor had pulled out the handkerchief from his breast pocket and was trying to help with your tears.

“Your needs are not something to be apologizing for. Yes, I wish you had told me sooner…but I am at fault for not being able to take care of your emotional needs.” As he helped clean your face, he gave you such a sad smile. This was why you hadn’t wanted to tell him what he was doing wasn’t enough, Viktor always felt like he wasn’t enough and now you were just making his assumption correct. And damn it, did it break your heart.

“A fine lover I turned out to be, my partner not ever feeling able to tell me that they're unhappy…”

“I didn’t tell you because I knew you would blame yourself”

“So instead of us talking about it, figuring out a system that would make us both happy, you decided to be miserable all by yourself?!”

The tears that had been slowly stopping on hit once more, this time actually having Viktor yelling at you.

“...I-I’m sorry…I just didn’t know what else to do. I didn’t tell you at first because it was the beginning of our relationship and I didn’t want you to break up with me for being needy…and then as time went on…I couldn’t tell you, since that was how things had always been”

Gently shushing you, the inventor pulled you in, wrapping his arms tightly around you. He wasn’t going to say a word, not until you were a bit calming so that he wasn’t triggering you again.

“Alright, so dates? Holidays…and what else was it?” He asked softly, leaning over slightly so that he could look you in the eyes.

“....I’m not asking you to change, you don’t need t-…”

“I wasn’t asking if I needed too, I am asking what else you need from me. And you aren’t asking, I’m offering.”

Slowly, with constant reassurances, Viktor was able to pull out all the things that you had been wanting from him. Some of which, you came to discover he had wanted to do but had been too nervous that you wouldn’t like it.

Dates between the two of you became a weekly scheduled thing, Jayce still finding it entertaining to hear Viktor saying that he had to leave early for ‘date night’. He made an effort to be as friendly and welcoming when you visited, even when he was exhausted, and above all, he never left any of the events early anymore.

However, on the morning of your birthday you found that he wasn’t in bed like you had expected. As you glanced around the room, you couldn’t help the disappointment that ate away at you as it was clear that Viktor hadn’t done anything.

Slowly you got ready, opting to skip breakfast as you just didn’t think you could keep it down with the sick feeling you were experiencing.

The walk to your job was slow, truly not wanting to go through another birthday where your co-workers would ask what Viktor had done…only for you to have to make up some lie so that they didn’t worry about your relationship.

As you entered, you found the whole place dark, confused as to why you were there before anyone else. And as you turned on the lights, you were met with the one person you were not expecting to see.

In the middle of the room, holding a cake that clearly looked like it had been made by the man who was holding it…seeing as his clothes had cake batter and icing in places and…was that icing in his hair?

“H-Happy Birthday” He stuttered, looking second away from dropping the cake in his hands from sheer nerves as he stood there. “I wasn’t sure if this was…well…good enough. I have gifts, mostly ones that I made…but I didn’t think that would sufficient”

In a few quick strides you nearly sprinted the space between the two of you, taking the cake and setting it down on the nearest table so that you could kiss the living daylights out of this adorable man.

As you pulled away, finding him looking completely dazed, a soft chuckle bubbled forth as it had indeed been frosting in his hair.

“Viktor, this was perfect. You are perfect"

358 notes · View notes

fictionandfixation · 2 years

Text

Just One Bite - Part 1

After having the misfortune of being bitten by a vampire, there are only two options left for you: accept becoming an undead creature of the night or die. You've made your choice, and you're ready to accept the consequences of it.

Unfortunately, the man who had bitten you has far more control than any other vampire. And far too much power to leave the decision up to your own making.

Vampire!Silco x F!Reader Warnings: MDNI, Cannibalism Mention, Gore, Violence, Vampires being weird, Vaginal Fingering, Lots of thinking about death 4.8k Words

Happy Halloween!

Here is part 1 of Vampire Silco! Thank you to everyone who donated during the live stream charity, we got 480 dollars donated! Thank you to everyone who donated <3 <3 <3 Part 2 of this fic will be uploaded on Friday. I hope you enjoy

Ao3 Link!

There is something beautiful in death.

There is a softness to the bone and a dullness to the tissue that creates a drip of petals on the pale floor tiles. Petals that will stain to a brown that the owner of the establishment will lie and say was coffee if anyone else were to ask.

But you know what it truly was; the last signs of a struggle.

“Is there a reason for the rush order today?”

Singed is smoking, a rarity for him but not uncommon with Zaunites even if he was an adopted one. The cigarette hangs from one of the lipless sections of his mouth, held between crooked canines. “Silco wants something fresh for tonight.”

Your eyes dart to the man on the table, now hooked up to tubes that are draining him while he wriggles in what is left of death throes. No noises leave him now, lips blue and eyes drawing back, into bloodshot pale dots. Singed will eat those later, after you’ve left, along with probably most of the man’s organs. He had always been the type to prefer to chew rather than drink.

It was lucky your skills were considered invaluable to him, and that he was well-fed. “I’m surprised he didn’t select someone.”

“He did.” Singed’s sharp fingers grow red as he presses down onto the man’s chest cavity, shirt gone and mismatched eyes gazing over the bruised chest. A finger traces just over the sternum. “Luckily for you, I told him no.”

You roll your eyes, offering him a scalpel, that he doesn’t take with a small shake of his head. “Not like I’ll be mortal for much longer anyways.”

There’s a pause from the older man, before he draws a sharp nail, a claw really, over the skin of the dying man’s chest. It’s a sight you’re used to enough, moving your hands to hold back the flaps of skin when Singed creates them, which he gives a small thank you for. The man is beginning to pass out, eyes drawing back and whimpering quietly.

“Slap him.”

You do so, and the man jolts and Singed purrs, both hands wrapping around the sternum bone. Pressing down with his palms, hooking his fingers under it, until it breaks. Not very cleanly, but enough that most of the bone is now out of the way from the prize of his heart. He sets down the bone on a table nearby, red splashing along the sides of it, and coating the bottom like red on fresh snow.

The doctor snubs out his cigarette in it, turning the bloody bone over like an ashtray. “If Silco asks for you, it means he plans on killing you. Not turning you.”

You frown, pinning the flaps of skin out of the way before moving to discard your gloves. The scar on your neck is tingling. “He’s drank from me before-”

“That was a different situation. One where he managed to maintain control. Thanks to certain parties present.” Singed strolls back over, and draws some muscle and tissue away, to a faintly beating heart. It stops moving when clawed fingers grab it, easily ripping it away with a wet tear. “I believe if I hadn’t been there to watch, you would most likely be dead.” And Singed offers a rare smile, one that makes his good eye crinkle. “And I rather like you alive. Or undead. Far more useful.”

You reach over, easily grabbing another cigarette from the loose jacket he always wore, knowing he kept his extras in the top left pocket. Familiar enough to get close to a vampire, without real fear of his teeth or claws. In fact, Singed only hums in amusement when you pluck the joint between your lips.

“You know, studies have shown the effects of those,” a bloody finger gestures to the cigarette while you draw out a lighter, “may kill you even faster than he would.”

You flick the lighter and take a deep inhale, shoving the metal back into your pocket before speaking. “I think cancer takes a few years, Doctor.”

“And Silco has taken almost two with you already if I’m not mistaken, he could lose to it by this point.” Singed smiles, but it’s not kind. There are no teeth and his eye isn’t crinkling now. “He drank from you two years ago. Vampires aren’t known for that usual level of patience with their prey..”

That was true. Usually, if you were bit by a vampire it was a matter of time. Death or the turning was the calling because your blood would sing to the vampire. Usually, a vampire would take a year to kill someone at most, the thirst, and the calling would be far too much. Humans were not like other mindless prey, and leaving them alive seemed to drive the immortals to a point of insanity. But so far Silco had retained his own, while not even dipping his fangs once more against your skin. Though you weren’t sure if you would’ve objected to that familiar bite.

Glancing at the calendar, the current month holding a silly picture of a Kitten with drawn-on details by Jinx, it would be two years to the day in just one week.

Two years ago, when you found him on a night when a fire burned blue and Zaun’s air was filled with ash instead of fog.

The fangs are still in your neck, whenever you think about it. A feeling that never truly goes away; the feeling of being eaten alive, of your blood draining out of you, of your nails scraping along his skin, and the soft whimpers that draw from your lips until he finally opens his eyes and finally, truly sees you.

You blink the memory away, the smell of your cigarette suddenly burning at your nose. Drawing it away from your lips, you instead stare at the clock, watching as the seconds tick by. “Almost dinner time?”

Singed hums, drifting closer to the corpse now, heart still in hand. Kind enough to wait for you to leave before he’ll bite into it, but the way his eyes are darkening, he’s clearly hungry. “Yes, I don’t think there’s anything left for today. The blood will be processed and I’ll have someone else send for it.”

You don’t linger, moving away with a soft goodbye that he returns, and you ignore the wet tearing noises you hear the moment the door starts to close behind you. Singed held a level of patience that could’ve rivaled Silco, but you’re also certain that comes with the fact that you’ve worked with him for the past two years now. You had certainly seen what he had done to strangers before, or anyone who tried to steal Shimmer’s formula. It was why your walk out is empty; no need for guards when the scientist was the true man to fear here.

Your thoughts drift in about vampires once more as you make your way down the stone halls of the laboratory. When you’d be turned, you’d be a drinker, you had decided that. It might be less fresh, but at least it wasn’t as disgusting as the noises that were echoing in the hall as you left.

The cigarette is snubbed once you’re outside the lab, and there’s a car coming down. Probably whoever was there to pick up the blood supply, and you only give a small wave that is acknowledged back, before you cross the street and begin to wander. It was late, but you didn’t want to go home yet. There was still a bit of daylight, though it was disappearing as you left the emptiness of where the lab was and into the deeper trenches of the city.

Since Vander had died, the Underworld had grown louder and far more colorful. Beautiful, even with people that had lilac or violet eyes roaming the streets, slack-jawed and easy targets for those with sharp teeth. Crime had been rampant before Silco had taken over the Undercity, it was just not as blatant due to Vander’s control and weak stomach for the sight of it, hidden behind closed doors from the Hound of the Undercity. That same weakness was one of the reasons he lost control, and died.

Though Singed was working on bringing him back, a special side project to try and create some other version of undeath than a vampire. Something that involved you picking up a lot of deliveries for dead canines, and when he was annoyed, he’d have you skin them too for whatever skin he was making for his monster.

He really was a dick sometimes. Luckily, that was the worst he made you do, you hadn’t annoyed him to the point of him strapping you to the red-stained gurney. At least so far.

The air warms the deeper you go, and the more people with purple eyes appear. Some have obvious bite marks along their throat or arms and you pass a body slumped over with several sets of different-sized bites. There even appears to be a few chunks of flesh missing.

It’s easy to look away after so long, to ignore the problem and continue forth until you find yourself on Drop Street.

It has your scar tingling, and there is a burn that rolls through your throat. Fangs in your throat, desperation runs through you, a familiar panic that has your heart jumping. But for the past few times you’ve ended up on Drop Street, you’re still not sure what you’re so desperate for.

Eyes flick over the buildings as you continue to wander down the street. Torgen’s shop still has its lights on, with the scent of leather oils perforating from it. Heather’s Laundry is also still open, though it seems the hours have extended since the window had been broken into. But your feet carry you to the sound of the thumping music, to flashing lights and a sense of familiarity makes you feel safe.

The two bouncers only nod, recognizing you or at least the pin in the shape of an eye on your coat. They step aside to let you in ahead of a few junkies who scowl and yell but are easily ignored once you’re in the club. The music is loud, pumping life through the crowd and also vibrations through the floorboards. Similar enough to a heartbeat that you wonder if Silco simply had a sick sense of humor.

Probably, in the interactions you had with him, he did have a quick wit. And he seemed to enjoy making people around him laugh, or making fun of his enemies.

The bar is crowded, but you wait your turn by people watching briefly, eyeing a couple who seem to have little shame in one corner right next to the dance floor. You drag your eyes away to a person dancing, whose connected long neon lines of ribbon from their wrists. The original color of them is unrecognizable, but the long ribbons have a glowing effect of a soft teal.

Like blood in a blacklight. Or Silco’s good eye.

You really needed to stop bringing everything back to him. It’s making your scar ache almost painfully.

Once you can, you lean against the bar and give Thierem your best smile. “Can I get a-”

“No.” His arms cross, and his mouth is a thin line. It looks awkward on the young man, who you had never seen look so stern before. “Sevika said if you’re in here, to bring you straight to her.”

That has you blinking. “What the fuck? Since when?”

“Since she saw you come in five minutes ago. She’s pissed.”

“What the fuck did I do?”

A cold grip lands on your shoulder and it sends a chill down your spine like you were splashed with freezing water. The claws of metal are sharp, grazing over the meat of the joint. “You came here tonight.”

Sevika is kind enough to not drag you out of the bar, but simply into the back, ignoring any employees you pass, who in turn dutifully ignore the two of you. It's a saving grace for a lot of embarrassment, even when she shoves you into the pantry of The Last Drop kitchen, a can lands beside you and opens up to what you can only assume is some sort of gourd filling. The tall woman ignores it, in favor of glaring at you, silver eyes are cold but not terribly unamused. “What the hell were you thinking?”

You stare at her, the truth is too heavy and the lie slides out easier. “I wanted a drink?”

Not even a twitch of a smile. Shit. “You know he put out a rush order today. And you came back here anyways.”

“Not like I’m going upstairs to see him-”

“Do you understand the risk you’re putting yourself under?” Silver eyes narrow, and both flesh and metal limbs cross. “The risk you’re putting him under? All of us?”

Gingerly you tap your foot against the floor, feeling like a scolded child under Sevika’s gaze. “Singed mentioned he asked for me.”

“The doctor lied or you misread because he did not ask for you. Silco only wanted a rush order. If Silco wanted you, he wouldn’t just ask you to meet here, he’d make sure someone gets you here.” At your wince, she frowns. “You should know that. And you should be grateful for all the precautions we have to take that you’re not dead.”

Hands twist in your pockets, feeling for your lighter. Tracing your thumb over the familiar engravings on it. “He wouldn’t kill me.” And you wince after saying it, realizing it does sound like a dumb childish thing out of your head. To believe you wouldn’t die at the second bite.

Maybe because you knew how Silco could maintain control. You were a testament to that, with a scar on your neck as a constant reminder, with meetings and interactions with the man an even further display of control. Fingers leave your pocket, moving up to touch your neck, and you swallow before correcting yourself. “I don’t think he’d try to kill me. On purpose.”

“So you’d risk him doing it on accident?”

“Sevika, I get it.” You sigh, feeling a sharp twist in your stomach at her words. He could do something by accident, that was how the first bite had happened, but it still stings. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have come.”

“If he wants you, he will call for you.” Sevika re-affirms, moving forward. “He doesn’t want you dead. He’s taken precautions so he won’t kill you. Try to respect that.”

You want to, you really do want to and you really want to tell Sevika that, but you let go of the lighter in your pocket to cross your fingers when you nod. “I’ll try.”

“You will.” Silver eyes narrow again, but this time her brows knit with it. The gaze draws over your forehead, then your neck.“You alright? You’re starting to sweat.” A pause before she adds on for more clarity, “A lot.”

“Just a headache, probably getting a cold.” You blink, trying to smile. “Maybe that’s why my head hasn’t been on right lately.”

Because how do you explain the addiction to something you’ve felt once? The feeling? The way you dreamed of fangs in your neck, draining you, and if he did end up draining you to the point of no return, it would be fine so long as it was him.

What you craved was insanity, one you hoped Silco would one day give you exactly what you wanted. Just hopefully he’d have more control then too because you certainly would not.

Sevika leaves shortly after that, the boss’s true meal being delivered now and she goes to help take it up to him. And you leave out the back way, heading to a cut-off alley that is an over-glorified smoke area for all of Silco’s workers.

There’s no one else when you exit the building and you’re thankful for that. Taking a spare cigarette from your jacket pocket, and move your lighter up to it. In the faint green and golden lights of Zaun, you can see the metal along the lighter. The soft engravings along each side, are wavy and intricate. The flame it gives is dulling, a signal for another refill soon, but it still manages to light the cig well enough to flick it close.

Smoking helps with the thoughts, distracting you with memories that you don’t like remembering, but it clears your head. The smell of smoke, the shattering of glass, clawed hands around your waist, teeth in your throat, the crying of a little girl.

You wonder where Jinx is tonight.

“Is that my lighter?”

Your eyes shoot upwards, staring at the man who has consumed many of your thoughts of late, before glancing back down to the lighter. Then your eyes glance back up to him, feeling beads of sweat roll down the small of your back. “Yep.”

Silco’s lips twitch, leaning on the back balcony with a cigar, and his own lighter. He drags it between the chipped front teeth, holding it perfectly outside of the fangs’ reach. It’s hard not to swallow at the sight of them, already feeling an itch on your neck, right over your scar. “You kept it?”

You frown, rolling your shoulders to try and contain the itch in your neck before leaning back against the wall and trying not to stare at him. Trying to stop the spread of warmth you’re already feeling in your veins just from the sight of him. “It’s a nice lighter.”

“There are others that are far nicer than that.”

“None in my pay range. I was using matches before I started working for you.”

“I think a match might be better than that old thing.”

You narrow your gaze, glancing up briefly to see him take a drag of his cigar, before flicking it back down. “It still works very well, despite it’s age. Do you want it back or something?”

There’s a chuckle above you, but you keep your eyes straight forward, trying to ignore the heat flooding your stomach at the amused noise. “I don’t want it back.”

Unable to resist it anymore, you drag your eyes back to the man above you, to really look at him. He’s staring out into the city, and you can just barely see his good eye from this angle. The slight breeze curls the loose ends at the back of his head, silver streaks dragging through black. There’s no hint of any scars or anything wrong, and he’d almost pass for human. But then he turns his head, revealing the scar and the fiery eye, and the hint of a fang that always protruded from that side of his mouth.

It appears more when he smirks. “Your devotion to my lighter is most admirable.”

It’s easy to scowl, pretend to be more annoyed at his remarks, and ignore the spreading warmth going lower, beyond your abdomen. “Sevika gave me shit for coming here tonight.”

The smirk disappears easily at your remark. “Why?”

“Said you were hungry and didn’t want you to do something stupid.”

He huffs, glaring out across the city. “I think I rarely do anything stupid.”

“Yeah, I know, but I create a flight risk around you. From what everyone says anyway.”

This wasn’t your first one-on-one interaction with the Eye of Zaun since he had bitten you, and in none of them had he made you feel unsafe. But you were a symbol of his control now, the fact that you stood here, alive for two years after being bitten, no one doubted the amount of control Silco possessed. Even if he were to kill you as Sevika feared, it was probably more about if he did it publicly and made a mess.

But he wouldn’t do that because you knew he had hardly made a mess the first time. Red-stained lips and teeth were what you could remember.

Silence hangs heavy in the air for a moment, and you swear you can hear the bending of metal from where one of his hands lays on the railing. Turning your gaze away, you just sigh, ready to leave before you do something or say something stupid. But when you turn to glance back, to say goodbye, you can just see him leap over the railing.

Landing right in front of you, gravel sprays up beneath his boots, but only to your knees. And then he’s staring at you, directly at you.

The cigar is still between his teeth, though he’s moved it to his molars now before he raises two fingers to hold it instead. His bad eye glows, but in this light, so does the teal one. “You don’t create any risk.” His voice is low and measured but smooth enough to draw your focus to only him. You stare at him, and he crosses his arms. “If there was a true risk, you wouldn’t be alive by now.”

“Everyone else doesn’t think like that.”

A line appears on his brow and he takes one step forward. “Do you think I’d hurt you?” He’s in front of you quickly, inhumanly so, and your heart leaps. Mismatched eyes turn to gaze at your throat before he raises his free hand and your gaze follows as it moves to your neck. Fingers trace over the mark, and you shudder involuntarily before his thumb grazes over the column of your throat.

It’s here you realize how tall he is in comparison to yourself, how sharp his fingers are, and how easily he could rip out your throat. But part of you wants him to but not with his hands. To watch him lower his head, to feel his brush of fangs, his fingers holding your body close to his own-

“Your pulse is jumping.” Fingers brush over the scar, dragging the edge of the digits slowly, enough to have you shiver. Enough for him to ask, “Are you scared?”

“No!” Wincing at how defensive you realize that sounded, you blink, taking a moment while he takes a step back, hand still on your neck. “Just remembering… the last time.”

Silco’s lips twitch, and his fingers trace over the indents of his teeth once more, before drawing away. “I don’t believe I held your throat last time.”

“No, you did. Just not with your hands.”

He raises the real eyebrow. “So much cheek today. I would have men fired if not killed for that on a bad day.”

Your brow furrows, staring right at him, trying to ignore the tingle along your neck. “This is a good day for you? Needing a drink so badly you have to rush order it? That’s your definition of a good day?”

His smirk this time is soft, something you’d almost consider a smile if you didn’t know him better, “A vampire never has a good day.”

You roll your eyes, and it only widens his almost smile, threatening to be real but given his nature and reputation, could never be so. It’s almost odd seeing him like this, being so comfortable and easily amused, but you guess it happens more frequently when he’s alone and doesn’t need to put on the boss routine. Even if he is your boss, even if it’s a distant connection. “How about a good night then? What’s the definition of a vampire’s good night.”

The smile slowly falls, like rain starting to drop. A slow start, before his lips deepen into a frown, the first sign of thunder before he’ll be a storm no doubt. “One where the thirst doesn’t leave you feeling like you’re drowning.”

You frown, feeling your scar burn at the word ‘thirst’. “I’m sorry-”

“Don’t be. You’ll be like this too.” There’s a pause, eyes darting away from your own when you light up with that information. “Soon enough.”

You frown. “Been two years. Most vampires don’t make it a month.” Slowly you raise the corners of your mouth, a bit forcefully. “Surprised we’ve lasted this long.”

He smirks, far more cruelly than the softer appearances earlier. “I believe I have been gifted the power of restraint.”

“You couldn’t have gotten the one where it makes you sparkle? Or is that a Piltover exclusive trait?”

“I can still bite you again and this time drain you properly.”

The words shoot right into your core, and his eyes run along your neck again, following your pulse point. His eyes grow dark, nostrils flare and his lips curl slightly, revealing more of those perfectly crooked fangs, gleaming in Zaun’s lights. But he takes a step back, pulling away completely, distancing himself from you. And it makes you whimper when he does, causing mismatched, glowing eyes to flash back onto you, and more sweat starts to drip down. Something he doesn’t comment on.

What the fuck was wrong with you? “I think I need to go home.”

He nods, moving to bring his cigar and your cigarette to the ground. Snubbing them both out with the heel of his intricate boot. “I’ll walk you.”

There’s no choice in the matter, Silco had a habit of this, to the point you had been expecting it. He tended to like to walk you home if you came to the Drop. Sometimes if he came by the lab too. Perhaps he just liked your scent in your nose, perhaps he did have the same bond that you felt. Or perhaps he was always debating about taking another bite, while you were alone and no one would be able to catch him in the act.

Despite the danger, his company wasn’t unwelcome. Though today, when he presses a hand to the small of your back to help guide you back through the door, more heat spreads through you and you jerk away. A quick lie, an apology falls from your lips, saying simply that you had lifted too many things in the lab. It works as a good excuse as to why you were so off today as well. Just having some back issues and totally not about being weirdly horny about his teeth.

He only nods and keeps his hands to himself while he escorts you home in an odd silence. It’s thick but you’re not sure how to break through it, and in the end, you only can by wishing him good night.

But once that door shuts, your back is pressing against it. One hand shoves down into your pants, the other helping to tug them down just enough. Fingers run quickly along your already-soaked slit, before slipping two in and curling them just so perfectly. Pretending how his long fingers would be even deeper inside of you, and it has you clenching around your own digits already.

In the privacy of your home, you don’t have to pretend over what you want. You don’t have to lie. Here you can moan Silco’s name wantonly, touch over your scar with your free hand, while your hips grind down into the palm of your other. Here, you don’t have to care about how messy that potentially could be. How fucked it would be, to beg him to fuck you while he kills you.

But if he were to eat your heart, the least he could do would be to eat you out first.

You fuck yourself, back slick and pressed against the wall, thumbing the bitemarks. “Silco, please.” It’s easy to beg this fake, imaginary Silco, who is the one curling his fingers into you in your mind’s eye. Carrying more of those almost smiles, and a softer kiss to your forehead, before he’ll set you down on his cock, and bury his teeth into your neck while he fucks you until he’s filled you. Until you’re his completely.

There’s a crashing noise somewhere in the street below you, what you’ll find tomorrow to be a garbage can destroyed by probably some whumps, but you only register it for a second. To caught up in your own pleasure, too busy crashing down at the thought of his tongue working over you, his fangs just peeking out of his mouth. The grin when he gets you to whimper for him.

Too much.

You finish and slide down the door, until you’re sitting on the door, stars in your eyes and slickness down your inner thighs.

Clarity comes minutes afterward, realizing how it wasn’t normal to be this deep into a crush, to become turned on this easily. And that has you considering how vampirism is also not normal, maybe none of this is truly normal for even vampires, and maybe Singed kept you around for so long not to help with the experiments, but because you were one.

You were going to get answers, even if Singed didn’t like the questions.

267 notes · View notes