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writingseaslugs · 2 years

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Jade Leech: After Hours

Hey everyone! So this piece is actually a collab with @twistedchatterbox and they did the morning scenario while this is the night scenario. Hope you enjoy! It’s mainly SFW but there is some slight touching and making out, but I don’t dub that as nsfw.

Disclaimer: All characters in this series are aged up. For more information about my version of this world and the type of reader you can expect, please click the “Au Information” below!

Request Information | Masterlist | Au Information

Jade Leech: After Hours

The lounge was finally closed down, the bustling of the night finally depleting. You were tired after helping out with serving tables and you wanted nothing more than to crumble into bed and fall asleep. You rubbed your eyes and let out a small yawn, trying to cover your mouth for the last bit so you wouldn’t get any comments. Floyd was long gone at this point, having ditched midway through his shift, and Azul was still in his office. There wasn’t much else to do other than find Jade.

Thankfully it was an easy enough task, walking over to the bar where he was cleaning up. He was polishing off some of the glasses to put away when he noticed the way your feet sounded as you approached. They dragged ever so slightly from exhaustion as you slowly approached where he was, feeling the slight sting. Even with the classical jazz music that was filtering through the lounge at this hour, he would always be able to tell it was you.

“Was the shift that tiring?” he asked, a sly smile on his lips as he finally glanced up at you. You let out a small, amused huff as you leaned your upper body onto the counter. You scanned over the contents of the bar, taking in how almost everything was already in its place and neatly organized. Jade really did work fast when it came to cleaning up; you had a small inkling he was just lingering around and waiting for you to finally come over.

“Yes, it was.” You said and noticed Jade had come closer. He leaned in and placed a quick kiss on your lips and smiled against you. You went to chase his lips before stopping yourself, and you could see the teasing smirk at your natural reaction to him kissing you. A natural pout was already playing on your lips at him, which Jade found to be adorable, but he wouldn’t give into whatever you wanted that easily.

“Would you like me to make you a drink?” He asked, already going to grab a freshly cleaned cocktail shaker. He seemed like he was already planning on it as he scooped up some ice into the tumbler and began looking for things.

“Only if you add double shots to it.” You said, making the eel raise a singular eyebrow. You watched him turn on the coffee pot and you were about to ask what he was doing when he was already beginning to turn around. The sound of the coffee brewing made you curious if he was making some coffee for himself, or if he’d be using it in your drink.

“That bad?” He asked and you hummed. You watched him take off his gloves and roll his sleeves up to his elbows as he got ready. You couldn’t help but let your eye wander across the expanse of his chest, tempted to just unbutton a few and feel his skin against your own. You shook the thought away, reminding yourself that you were in a public venue, even if it was past closing and nobody would be coming in. It really had been a long day if your mind was dancing in the gutter at such a simple action like him rolling his sleeves. You were almost embarrassed for yourself.

Jade seemed to dance as he walked around the bar, grabbing the proper liqueurs and syrups for your drink. You didn’t know what he was making but it flowed so perfectly, not missing a single step. Every action was deliberate and you watched him measure everything with expert precision. You could see him grabbing some of the coffee and adding it to the fray as he finished mixing everything.

He poured it into a rather tall yet thin glass…you think he once called it a zombie glass. It was frosted slightly on the bottom and it made the opaque brown liquid stand out more. Finally he grabbed from one of the bowls next to him and placed a burnt orange peel right on top before sliding it over to you.

“You seem distracted, pearl.” He noted, watching as you slowly picked up the glass. You hummed as you swirled the drink in the glass, looking it over. It looked amazing and smelled like coffee and oranges and your mouth was watering. You knew it had alcohol in it, but you wondered if you’d even be able to taste it with everything else he put inside it.

“I’m not distracted…I just had a few things on my mind is all.” You admitted, looking over the cup one more time before sipping on it. The coffee taste wasn’t actually that strong and you noted a bit of mint in there as well…almost pepperminty. The glass certainly didn’t taste like it had any alcohol in it, but you had watched with your own eyes as he poured it in. Jade managed to snap you out of your stupor as he got in front of you.

“What is this?” You asked, knowing it wasn’t an espresso martini. He normally served those in martini glasses and it was something he refused to compromise with. Jade chuckled as he grabbed the drink and took a small sip of it as well, smacking his lips a bit as he got a good note of the flavors.

“We got a new coffee liquor that I wanted to try out.” He said, “It’s a peppermint liqueur coffee. I think I recall you once telling me about something called an “Irish Coffee”, so I wanted to try something similar.” He explained and it seemed solid. It did have the essence of an irish coffee, but the ones you knew were made by people in their kitchen early in the morning who just poured irish cream into their morning brew because they didn’t want to face the day completely sober.

“So you’re giving me coffee at this hour?” You joked and his smile seemed to spread as he nodded. You paused after taking another sip and ended up putting it down on the table. What was that smile for? That was the smile he had whenever he was getting up to something, which only ended up well for you eighty percent of the time. “Are you trying to keep me awake for a reason?”

“Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten?” He said, placing a hand over his heart, “To think you’d forget such an occasion.” Ah there it goes, the confusion has now set in. Jade was always doing his best to throw you off guard at every possible chance he could get, and today was no exception.

“What’s the occasion?” You asked as he walked from behind the bar and over to where you were leaning. He held out a hand for you and you were more than happy to hold onto it, though your mind screamed you should at least hesitate when he’s in one of these moods. He helped drag you away and you barely had time to put down your half finished drink. He clasped one of your hands in his own, the other being placed in your hip.

Then he danced with you, a slow sway to the jazz music that echoed in the lounge. The movements were subtle and he made sure there wasn’t much footwork since he knew you must be sore from running about all day. It was gentle and intoxicating, staring into his eyes as he looked over at you with adoring eyes that always made you melt.

“You gonna tell me the occasion, or do I have to guess?” You asked, putting your free hand on his shoulder and getting comfortable. It wasn’t a birthday of anyone, nor a holiday. Your anniversary wasn’t for another few months, so why is he so intent on it being a celebration? Perhaps it was a holiday in this world that you weren’t aware of?

“It’s our two year, eight month, and five day anniversary today, my love.” He said, swaying you a bit and you actually laughed at him.

“Have you been counting every day?” You asked, curious for his response.

“Would you be surprised if I said yes?” He asked and you hummed. Honestly, it wouldn’t have been a shocker in the slightest. He always did pick and choose what he decided to remember. He memorized every mushroom in the books, so remembering something as simple as a date shouldn’t be too hard. Honestly it was endearing that he’d remember all of that; you were happy you were able to recall your anniversary with how chaotic your life was.

“I wouldn’t, however you’re off by a day.” You said and now Jade looked confused, “Look at the time.” He turned to see the clock was just a minute past midnight, “It’s our two year, eight month, and six day anniversary.”

“You’re very correct in that, how did I not realize how late it had become?” He said as he slowly took you back over to the bar. He picked you up and sat you down on the counter, handing you your drink.

“You seemed a bit…preoccupied.” You said, right before taking a longer sip of the drink. It melted on your tongue and you savored the flavor before setting it down. He really did know how to make some of the best drinks known to man.

“It’s easy to be distracted by you.” He commented, “Now you should finish that, after all, you’ll need the energy.”

“Oh, I’ll need the energy?” You asked, “Are we going to be up all night watching movies, maybe going for a midnight stroll? You have to tell me, I’m on the edge of my seat.” You said, already having a hunch as to why you’d need the energy. You still craved to hear the words from him, and knew if you teased him enough he might be willing to indulge you.

“It means you won’t be able to walk tomorrow if I can help it.” He said and you groaned at the thought.

“Are we going to go on that long of a walk?” You said before feeling him placing a hand on your thigh and squeezing it.

“Not a walk.”

“A swim?”

“Well it can be done in the water if you’d prefer to have me that way.” Now that got your attention. The thought of his tail wrapped around you while he…your mind was already thrown directly into the gutter at everything you wanted him to do to you.

“Oh, and what does this imply?” You teased, kicking your feet a bit. Jade smirked as he leaned closer and cupped your chin. He dragged you in for a kiss, his hot lips pressing against your own. His sharp teeth grazing gently on your lower lip, never enough to cut but enough to know the danger always lingered.

You didn’t need to be asked twice as you opened your mouth, letting his long tongue explore your mouth. You groaned into the kiss, threading your hands through his hair as you tugged him even closer. He took a step forward and caged you in with his arms by your sides, leaning in until he was towering over you. You felt him groaning against your mouth as your grip on his hair tightened with another small tug.

He took another step closer until you were spreading your legs enough for him to slot himself between them. He finally let you go, watching as you panted and tried to steady your breathing. His eyes were half lidded as he licked his swollen lips, savoring the taste of the cocktail on your tongue. His hands found their way to your thighs as he dragged you to the edge of the counter and your legs were able to wrap around his hips.

“What do you think it implies?” He asked and you shivered at his voice. His mouth was right against your ear, the sharp teeth barely touching them.

“I think it implies I should finish this drink.” You chuckled in response. “And we should definitely go for that swim.”

“Of course.” He said, leaning close and kissing your neck. He peppered the kisses up to your jawline before giving you a quick peck on the lips, “Now hurry up, I’m feeling rather impatient tonight.”

Are you a fan of Diasomnia like me? I bet you are if you read my content (we love the boys in this household). Want to support a visual novel that will feature Diasomnia dorm, has multiple routes and endings, as well as some spicy visual scenes? Check out @twstfournights and if you want info, check out their announcement post!

#Twisted Wonderland #Twisted Wonderland x Reader #TWST #TWST x Reader #TWST Wonderland #Twisted Wonderland Disney #TWST Disney #Jade Leech #Jade Leech x Reader #Jade x Reader #TWST Jade #Twisted Wonderland Jade Leech #TWST Jade Leech #Twisted Wonderland Jade

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applesontheground · 2 years

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I honestly can’t remember if I’ve actually written out this ask before and either deleted it or sent it out into the universe, but can you write how the Sinclair brothers would react (or just bo😉) to seeing their clumsy s/o try to fix something on a rooftop and accidentally slipping off. Reader laughs it off or maybe they’re slightly hurt and the brothers are like 😑😠 they thought you were hurt! You could have been hurt! I just love that kind of drama lol

oh, i’m a clumsy critter through and through so i feel this one a little too personally. i’d love to indulge it with some sinclair love! ❤ (also, i used the initial prompt for bo’s drabble, but threw in some diff ideas for vin & les! they’re partially anecdotal because as i’ve said, i get myself in jackassery on a weekly basis lol!)

the sinclair brothers & clumsy S/O 🕯️ (gn reader)

SFW | Word Count: 1,495 | The Sinclair Brothers x GN Reader (separate drabbles at ~400-600 words)

It was one drip spattering against your head too many. The remnant of yesterday’s rainstorm making its way through the shingles of the roof where it felt as though it had just done it to irritate you was enough to make you proactive, dropping what you were doing and heading for the back of the house.

You waited until dusk crept its way under the skin of the town and wake its glimmering façade to step out onto the back porch of the Sinclair home with the ladder. Vincent had rummaged it out of the garage without so much else besides an unwaivered stare when you explained what you were planning on doing.

He helped get you going because you weren’t his worry per se. You were Bo’s, which was more insisted on by the latter than something Vincent really agreed to. It was almost scarier than the fact you were about to get up on the roof without running it by him first.

You had just gotten your bearings, clambering up the cold and dusty metal rungs and flattening out against the shingles on your stomach, when you heard the door swing open and the familiar voice start talking, not yet aware there was no one inside to listen to him. You pushed up to stand, the rough slats enough for your soles to find a grip. Still, as you stood upright, your entire frame couldn’t help but rock a little as you felt for your bearings.

Of course, that was what the man had made his way through the house just in time to see when he stepped outside, hearing the scrabbling above his head and half believing he was hearing things before realizing you were in fact up there.

“Hey! Nuh uh!” Bo stepped back, getting a better view at what you were doing. He snapped his fingers to make you look before pointing to the porch in a vicious movement, “Get the fuck down, [Y/N]! The hell’re you doin’?” You paused, finally fumbling back onto your knees and replied, “The roof’s leaking.” You tried to push up to stand again, but the unsure noise soon had the ladder shifting as Bo took matters into his own hands, one foot on the first rung in a matter of seconds.

“Bo, it’s okay-“ You began, but he interrupted in a voice that somehow got meaner as he repeated himself, “[Y/N], said get down, damn it!”

The tone was enough to make you slide towards the gutter, rolling your eyes at first and expecting to be grabbed by him like some sort of unruly pet rather than a [boyfriend/girlfriend/partner]. It was the lack of tugging – rather, the firm settling of his palm against your hip as you started to step down the ladder – that made your attitude fizzle.

“I’ve seen stupid, and I’ve seen clumsy,” Bo muttered, not looking you in the eye but still keeping a hand on your lower back, “But a combination of the two? Lookin’ for a broken leg.” You paused, staring at the side of his face until he finally stopped minding the way you were climbing to look you back in the eye. When one foot touched the porch, he snaked his arm around one of your hips, hoisting you away from the ladder and muttering, “Now don’t give me that, I’m not sayin’ I don’t trust you.”

You scoffed, “Oh, what? Gonna tell me you don’t trust the roof? The ladder?” He froze, and ended the conversation by spinning on his heels, taking your feet off the ground again and making you squeal in surprised laughter. “If anyone’s doin’ that kind of work, it’s me. Got that?”

When he set you on your feet your knees suddenly buckled. He watched in bemusement as you stumbled forward when he let go, and when you only had an embarrassed glance over your shoulder, he muttered, “Yeah. Yeah, that wouldn’t have ended well for anyone around here.” He laughed to himself with another shake of his head, turning away from you.

“Vincent, look at what I found at the flea market. Some-“ You turned away from where your eyes had caught onto the wall, stuck to some well-formed facial structure protruding in a lunge of wax, and were face to face with the back of an unfamiliar head.

“WHOOP-“ You let out an involuntary noise, your entire body flinching out of the way and in a twist of an ankle becoming parallel to the ground. You grasped the cassettes that you had brought to show Vincent for dear life as you went knee-first into the ground, making another silly noise as the air was knocked from you and the rest of your body hitting the floor in a solid thud.

The initial impact was still coursing through you, a prick of agony in your leg as you heard something drop against Vincent’s work desk. He put his hand on the desk, the visible eye straining at you. It maybe took a few good seconds before you noticed the slight wobbling of his sturdy frame, and the quiet snort that he quickly tried to muffle with an arm over his stone still mouth. Your jaw dropped in an exaggerated gesture, elbows pushing up to support you better as you jutted your neck at him and asked, “Are you laughing at me?”

He shook his head, turning away from you to get his bearings before doing anything else. You scoffed, slapping your hand against the floor in a one-armed shrug. “Hey, it was either that or I mess up your hard work.” You then gave a forlorn glance to the…person standing beside you.

He finally turned back around, sauntering over to hold his hand down. At a closer range, you could hear the quiet giggles from behind the mask. “Yeah, yeah. Laugh at your clown.” You muttered, and he finally paused to dust your shoulder off.

“…That it?” You asked, and even with the ingrained moment’s hesitation before doing it, he then pushed the delicate edge of his own mask up before giving you a peck on the cheek, a hand finally starting to move, you put on a great show here and again.

The second noise of exasperation just broke the giggles out a second time, its own encore as he wrapped his arms around you, finally noticing what you had dropped and nodding at them in a mute question.

“Oh, yeah!” You grinned, “Those!”

It wasn’t until you were well in the middle of the stream, water dappling your exposed ankles as it trickled past, that you wondered if there was a reason in particular Lester had sent you to cross the wash-out first today.

“Mind the water now, rose overnight. Makes the rocks slippery as shit.” He called, but just as you had registered what he had said you took another step on a promising rock, and your heel skidded out from under you. Lester gasped as you fell back first into the water, the world falling silent and murky as even your head was pulled under.

Just as soon as it happened, you were finding your bearings and immediately pushing back out over the surface, arms flailing as you regained balance. “I’m okay!” You hollered, turning to stand in the rushing water on your knees, uncaring to the way your entire outfit was now soaked and you had to be at an angle alongside the current. You heaved yourself up, and what seemed like an entire pitcher’s worth of water came up with you in the form of soaked clothes and hair as you beamed in a dopey manner to the man still on land, not sure whether to laugh or scold you.

“The hell you are. Didn’t ya hear me?” He finally decided on the latter, throwing his hands up at the display in front of him. You replied with an exasperated strain to your voice, “Sure, but you forget I’m not a good listener.” He neared the shore as you waded closer, helping pull the sopping mess back to his side of the wash-out.

“Well. Think it’s more of a luck thing than a stupid thing.” He began, but as you gave him a daring glance he corrected himself, “Not sayin’ anything, now let me help ya out.” He took both of your wrists as you broke from the current, stumbling onto the land and bracing his own forearms to steady yourself.

“First person that makes bein’ a dope look cute.” He commented as you stood a little straighter, but when you only gave him another astounded expression he muttered, “Gon’ be quiet for a little bit.”

You scoffed at that, careening into him and making him flinch from the cold water soaking into his shirt as you lassoed your arms around his torso. “Never want you to be quiet.” You murmured, giving him a kiss as he finally figured a little water wouldn’t kill him.

#bo sinclair x reader #vincent sinclair x reader #lester sinclair x reader #slasher x reader #requests #slasher requests #slasher fanfiction #✏️#🕯️#anon corner #THIS WAS SO FUN I MISSED MY BOYS

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ao3feed-tf2ships · 1 year

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Sleepy Time Courage

read it on the AO3 at https://archiveofourown.org/works/49298914 by ThatRadFailure Sniper and Pyro are getting to sleep for the night, but Sniper has a little request. Through a bit of couples chatting, Pyro gets brave enough to try something new. (Get your mind out of the gutter this is a completely SFW fic.) Words: 741, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Fandoms: Team Fortress 2

Rating: General Audiences

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories: F/M

Characters: Pyro (Team Fortress 2), Sniper (Team Fortress 2)

Relationships: Pyro/Sniper (Team Fortress 2)

Additional Tags: Sleepy Cuddles, Fluff, Domestic Fluff, Domestic, Pyro's gender is a confusion to everyone who ain't Pyro, Sniper just happens to see Pyro as a she/her but like. In a gay way, As usual I am. Absolutely awful at tagging

read it on the AO3 at https://archiveofourown.org/works/49298914

#TF2 Pyro #TF2 Sniper #PyroSniper #TF2 Bushfire

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drunklander · 6 years

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Me in Pictures

I was tagged by @caitbalfes and @fuckyeahclairebeauchamp to describe myself with pictures I had in my camera roll, without using pictures of myself.

Please play along if you haven’t been tagged already!

#i literally just picked the photos i took that i really like #plus a couple random ones to represent the stuff that isn’t included in the ones i like always pick as my faves #my camera roll is a weird place #but in a sfw way #get your minds out of the gutter #two are rad murals that i love from places i go for work #one is my work neighborhood #one is from the art scene where i live #two are from places i go for fun #two are places i liked going where i used to live because they were peaceful #one is my alma mater and i’m still rull involved with it #and one is #persephone the cat #personal #dear der #*

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i23kazu · 2 years

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I DRESS UP JUST TO GET UNDRESSED

warnings – suggestive. characters – zhongli, childe, xiao, ayato, diluc x gn!reader. genre – romantic fluff. a/n – undressing them (more sfw!) !! | please reblog!! it rly helps me >< sorry for the inconsistent formatting :(

[zhongli.]

you’re pulling the man closer by his tie, and before he knows it — he’s right in front of you

he wants to wink, smirk, do anything to assure you that he’s not flustered

but the blush on his face says otherwise ;)

his breathing is composed but we all know he’s good at faking it

zhongli’s breath shudders as you smirk at his flusteredness — he’s never seen this side of you before

he’s inwardly gasping as you move your hands to caress the side of his neck, daintily unbuttoning the top of his collared shirt

[childe.]

he’s excited to see this side of you ;)

gets slightly flustered, but not too much. he’s enjoying the show

you can hear him shudder

your fingers move up the side of his neck and you plant a kiss on his cheek

right before you unbutton the top of his shirt

he feels tingles down his spine as you make your way down, unbuttoning each one

revealing a white undershirt

he loves this so much please always do it for him

[xiao.]

definitely one to bat your hand away, saying that he doesn’t like it

(he does)

complains about how you’re too slow

so you tease him

“my prince just can’t wait for me, hm~?”

you can feel him stiffen up, shoulders tightening as you lean against his frame

help him to let loose by giving him kisses on his cheek <3

you gently take off his blazer and suddenly everything feels a lot colder

then you unbutton his dress shirt slowly ;)

[ayato.]

gets teasy when you do it to him

then gets flustered when you tease him back

he CANNOT take what he dishes out i am sorry

cuddle him closer, run your fingers through his hair before you start to take it off

whisper sweet nothings to him while you unbutton his outerwear

and watch him blush like a madman

ayato loves it when you do that though. he enjoys how bold you are when you pin him to the wall and do it

hehehheheheehhe

pls do it to him more often

[thoma.] - oooooh boy - he gets SO flustered he actually cannot keep his composure - blushing like crazy, stuttering all about, trying to keep his act up - but we all know underneath that “tough” exterior is a man who loves how you do that so confidently - honestly, its nice to see someone else take charge ;) -get your mind out of the gutter. - tease him gently!!! hes sensitive (although he loves it) - press kisses on his cheek as you unbutton his dress shirt

[diluc.]

hehe

ragnvindr loves it

gets a lil blushy a lil stuttery a lil bit of a nervous mess

pin him gently against the wall, and watch his breath hitch in excitement

his stomach feels all fluttery when you do it and he looooooves it

undress him gently, continue to kiss him as you do so

tease him ;)

its always fun to watch his reaction

like ayato, he CANNOT take what he dishes out

he gets so embarrassed

but its so cute :(

taglist: @tiredsleep @loptido @raincxtter @infinn-toru @ladyadii @soulsanta @pluvioprinz @sheiiy

please reblog if you liked it!! consider following me for more hehe

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ace-of-zaun · 2 years

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The Wrong Place at the Wrong Time: pt. 2

Silco x f!reader - SFW

CW: swears, injury, non-consensual medicinal drug use, some angst

6.2k words

Summary: After your less-than-ideal first meeting with the kingpin, you find yourself waking up once more in unfamiliar territory. Luckily for you, that means you have another opportunity to get to know the one person you should not be this attracted to.

A/N: this idea was originally meant to be a one-shot, but just like when Dorothy and Toto met the flying monkeys in the Wizard of Oz… I got a little bit carried away. Hope you enjoy!! -elsie x

Also, there’s a cheeky little reference to ch11 of @x-amount-verbs work A Helping Hand in this one. If you’re not already obsessed with it like I am, please go read it!! I also highly recommend their wonderful one-shot Show A Little Skin, too (NSFW) (I hope you don’t me tagging you x)

Waking up after passing out felt like falling in love; gradually and then… still pretty darn slow to be honest. I mean, you had just experienced a head trauma and you’d be damned if it didn’t feel like someone had jam packed it full of cotton wool. It felt like an eternity had passed before you could even begin to open your eyes, but once you were there, it only took a few blinks until your vision cleared up from its blurry state. Thank Janna for that.

Strangely enough, the first thing you remembered from your rather eventful Tuesday evening was the feeling of Silco brushing his fingers against yours when you were tied up back-to-back, and again when he’d held you just before you collapsed onto him. You sighed softly at the memory before your brain clicked into gear and you realised just what that meant. Silco. You’d met the King of the Undercity last night. Mr Danger himself. Oh, shit.

Like pieces of a puzzle being slotted back into place, your mind sorted through your memories of the whole experience and you found yourself cringing at everything you’d said and done. Calling him rude and snarky, trying to comfort him when you thought he was hurting, taking over the whole situation by pretending to be his employee when he could have easily handled it by himself. But then you remembered how gently he’d held you and how soft his expression had been when he looked down at you, and you felt all cosy again. And then, of course, you entered self-sabotage mode and recalled the final thing you’d said to him before you’d blacked out. You’d told him you thought his hands were lovely.

…Fuuuuuuck.

Trying to draw shutters down over your embarrassing memories, as if it would make it so they had never happened, you turned your attention to the world around you, instead of the one in your head. Naturally, you expected to be lying in your apartment, since that was the only place you ever found yourself waking up in, but alas, you were not in your apartment. Instead, you were in a small, bland room, with little to no decoration. Your head hurt too much to move it and look at any place other than the patch of ceiling above you, so you continued to do just that. Yes, it concerned you that you had absolutely no clue where you were, but you didn’t have enough energy yet to fully panic about it. Besides, you weren’t one to look a gift horse in the mouth.

“Well, at least I’m not in a gutter,” you spoke aloud, in an (oh so alluringly) scratchy voice, thanks to your parched throat.

“Why would you be in a gutter?”

This routine of you waking up, speaking your first ridiculous thought, and then being terrorised by a previously unknown presence was beginning to feel unnervingly familiar to you. It only felt right to react in the exact same way you had done when you’d met Silco. You screamed. Only this time it sounded more like the noise a strangled cat would make, due to your dry throat.

Despite the pain it caused, your head snapped up to the source of the intruder and you were baffled by the sight of a young, blue-haired girl sat cross-legged atop the dresser. Her stare was eerily similar to, but not quite as intense as, the man who’d gazed down at you last night when you were curled up against the warehouse floor. Furrowing your brow and consequently deepening your headache, you hoped to Janna that you hadn’t accidentally adopted a child while you were blacked out. You wouldn’t put it past yourself.

“Who am I? Where are you?” you babble accusingly at her.

There was a brief pause as you realised the jumbled nature of your words and she looked at you with wide, amused eyes.

“Wait, no, that’s not right. I meant, who are you? Where am I?” you try again.

The young girl giggles playfully at your confusion and you stare back at her suspiciously. Pulling yourself to sit up so your back is against the headboard, you try to get a better look at the room you’ve found yourself in and the young girl who seems to be haunting it. She couldn’t be much older than 12, you noted, wincing as your aching body screamed at you for moving from your previous position.

“You’re funny.”

“You haven’t answered my questions,” you inform her gently. The last thing you wanted after the whole ordeal you’d just been through was to make a poor child cry.

“I don’t think I’m allowed to tell you. Silco said I have to let you rest but he didn’t say I couldn’t look at you or talk to you,” she told you brusquely, as if you were thinking of snitching on her for finding a loophole in his instruction.

Wait. This little girl knew Silco? Now that you were properly awake, your brain ignored the fact she’d just told you that Silco wanted you to rest and instead decided to panic about the fact you were somehow still involved with the kingpin. As the blood drained from your face, it was that very same feeling of panic that prompted you to speak to her again in a low, worried tone.

“Am I a prisoner?”

“I don’t think so, the door was unlocked when I came in. Plus, prisoners usually live in the basement and we’re not in the basement, so…”

You skipped over registering just what that comment meant in favour of asking a question you were sure you already knew the answer to.

“Is he going to kill me?”

She rolled her eyes at that.

“Nah, he’d have already killed you by now if he wanted you dead.”

Oh. Well. That’s good, then…Right?

“Will you draw with me?” she interrupted your disorganised ruminations, her legs now dangling over the side of the drawers as she looked at you expectantly.

You were taken aback by the question. To be honest, you were taken aback by every aspect of your reality at that point, but this was not the time to argue semantics with yourself. You were so bewildered and tired and stressed by the whole situation that you really couldn’t see any other option.

“Uh, yeah, sure.”

The girl lets out an excited squeal as she drops off the furniture with a heavy thud, mumbles something about waiting there, and races out the door before you could even yell to ask if she was okay. Left alone in sudden silence, you place your aching head in your hands and sigh deeply. Okay. You need to figure out what the hell is happening.

You knew that wherever you were, it had something to do with Silco. It didn’t take long for you to recall the order he’d given to the woman who’d come to your rescue during last night’s debacle. We’ll take her back to the Drop.

The Drop? It was common knowledge that Silco ran his base of operations out of The Last Drop, a bar you’d never even dared step foot in before due to its reputation for serving some rather unseemly patrons. No, it had never sounded very appealing to your tastes. You felt much more at home using your powers of persuasion on unsuspecting shoppers at the market than being surrounded by intoxicated shimmer-heads.

Was that where you were then? The Last Drop? You couldn’t hear any music or other sounds that might indicate you were in a bar. Looking around the sparse bedroom, your mind struggled to accept the idea that anyone could be living at the most infamous bar in the Lanes, let alone housing children, and the one you’d just met seemed very comfortable dashing about the place as if she owned it. Turning your head to the side, you spot a cup of water sitting on the bedside cabinet and take a large swig of it, until you have the sense to think you should probably double check it definitely was water you were drinking. Too late now, considering you’d chugged down most of it in that one gulp.

Before you could even begin to panic about what could have possibly been in the drink now sitting in your stomach, the girl returned and shut the door behind her with a click. She grins at you, holding a wad of paper in one hand and a handful of crayons in the other. For a brief moment, you think she’s going to climb onto the bed and shove some paper into your face, but instead she stops in the middle of the floor and plonks herself down rather unceremoniously.

It takes a few moments of you staring at her, dumbfounded, before she meets your gaze and lifts one eyebrow expectantly. Well, what are you waiting for? You wondered where she learned how to command such authority with just a single expression, and even considered asking her to teach you. It seemed like a handy trick to have when your job involved copious amounts of persuasion and cajoling. It hadn’t escaped your mind that you probably should be at work right now and your boss would no likely be wondering where you were, but your brain was too addled to really care. Besides, you were far too busy trying to appease your new friend.

You pushed the blanket off your body (finding yourself in the same clothes you were wearing when you were kidnapped) and slowly manoeuvred yourself down so you were sitting on the floor, your back against the side of the bed. It took all your effort not to wince at the pain that shot through your aching body as you did, but you managed it. Luckily, the young girl didn’t notice your discomfort, far too preoccupied with scribbling furiously on the paper in front of her.

You slowly reached for the nearest crayon and began doodling, hoping it would somehow help you make sense of whatever the heck your life had turned into.

“What’s your name?” she asks, thoughtfully.

You tell her and watch her repeat it to herself slowly, like she’s memorising it.

“What about you? What’s your name?”

“I can’t tell you. I don’t want Silco to be mad with me.”

You frown at that.

“Why would he be mad?” you inquire softly.

“Because I’m not meant to reveal information to people I don’t know very well.”

It sounded like a quote, likely one she’d heard many times, as if it had been drilled into her. You take another look at the crayons sprawled across the floor and suddenly remember Silco telling you he had a daughter, just before you’d decided to caress his lovely hands. You’re certain you’ll never be able to recall that little mishap without your face flushing in embarrassment each time.

“Is Silco your dad?”

“Uh… kinda… I guess,” she mumbles, not looking up from her drawing. Her little brow furrows and the scribbling motion she’s making becomes much more focused as she presses down hard onto the paper, enough to make an imprint of the floorboards on the page.

She doesn’t speak again and you decide not to tell her that Silco had referred to her as his daughter when you’d inquired about the crayons on his coat. Whatever had happened to her, you didn’t feel like it was your place to pry. Most people you knew wouldn’t have cared one iota about the wellbeing of a little girl, not when it was so difficult to take care of your own wellbeing as a resident of Zaun. But, you weren’t most people. And just like you did for her father, you felt a sudden urge to make her feel better.

You pointed to one of her doodles and smiled at her warmly.

“Hey, this is brilliant. You’re a great artist!”

“You really think so?”

“Absolutely. If you ask me, it belongs in an art gallery. In fact, I’d buy it myself and put it up on my wall at home.”

She giggles and the sound makes your chest feel like it’s been lit up.

“How much do you think it’s worth?” she asks.

“Oh, at least one million hexes.”

“Alright then,” she looks at you dead in the eye, with the most serious expression you have ever seen.

Your face drops in horror. What? Shirley she couldn’t be serious. Oh no. You’ve done it again, haven’t you? You and your big mouth. You clearly don’t have a million hexes. If you did, there’s no way you’d be living in a dusty, old apartment, slaving away at a market stall six days a week just to afford rent and a decent-ish meal twice a day.

You begin to stutter out a measly excuse, trying to find the best way to let this poor girl down gently, when you notice her mouth pull into a wide grin. She’s joking.

“Geez, don’t do that!” you admonish her, chucking a crayon her way but purposefully avoiding hitting her.

“You shoulda seen your face! As if you have a million hexes!” she howls, clutching her stomach as she laughs at you falling for her trick. It should annoy you, but instead it instantly makes you feel better after unintentionally upsetting her earlier.

You both go back to colouring, you with an expression of mock annoyance and her with a grin that never fades back to neutrality, always haunted with the ghost of a smile. She begins to ask you questions and you answer them all honestly. I mean, at this point, what have you got to lose? You’d already survived a kidnapping and facing the most terrifying man in all of Zaun, surely no harm could come from opening up to a sweet, young girl.

She asks where you live, what you do for a living, what your favourite colour is, what your favourite game to play is, if you know how to re-wire a smoke bomb. Wait, what was that last one? You brush past it quickly, bringing her attention once again to one of her colourful doodles.

And truthfully, you were having such a lovely time colouring with your new friend, you’d almost completely forgotten the trauma you’d experienced the night before, just as the door opened to reveal a strikingly familiar face. Except this time it wasn’t as blurry in your vision and seemed much more steely and unreadable as he took in the sight in front of him. You take a sharp inhale of air and instantly stop drawing, staring blankly at Silco like a deer in the headlights.

All of a sudden, your chest aches with a mixture of emotions. You’re scared of what might happen to you next, embarrassed at your actions from the night before, confused at your relief from being able to see him again, attracted by the sight of him out of his coat with rolled up shirt-sleeves… all in all, you’re a mess. Noticing the way he looked between you and the girl, it dawned on you that not once had you stopped to consider the potential consequences of fraternising with Silco’s daughter. A person you didn’t realise had existed before today and probably for good reason, given the numerous possibilities for blackmail if anyone were to understand that Silco cared for her.

Silco quickly glances at you before crossing the room to kneel down next to the girl opposite you.

“Jinx, I told you she needed to rest,” he says to her, in that soft tone you’d heard for a only brief moment whilst tied to the chair.

Ah, so her name was Jinx.

“I didn’t tell her anything, I promise!” she protests innocently, staring up at him with wide eyes.

“I’m sure you didn’t, pumpkin, but she’s not supposed to be out of bed yet, she was injured yesterday.”

Jinx tells him your name and some of the details you’d told her during your one-sided game of twenty questions and he looks up at you for a moment, meeting your wide eyes with a searching gaze. You don’t have the chance to figure out what that means before his attention is drawn back to Jinx, who is pointing to one of your doodles on the page.

“She’s nice but she’s terrible at drawing,” she openly tells him as if you weren’t in the room, “Look at that one, I don’t even know what that’s meant to be!”

You’re not really offended. You knew deep down in your heart that art had never been your strong suit, but it didn’t stop you from scoffing in mock offense at the girl’s blunt assessment of your work.

“Well, cheers, I didn’t realise I was trying to impress a pair of art critics,” you drawl, allowing your words to drip with heavy sarcasm.

Both sets of eyes snap up to your face and instantly soften at your shit-eating grin. And then it happens. Something you’d never expected to hear in a million years. Silco laughs. It’s more of a huff than a proper expression of joy, but the amusement laced in the little noise can’t be denied. You’d made Silco laugh.

Jinx’s laughter is much louder and brighter and it fills the room like a thousand fireflies lighting up all at the same time. It’s a sound you’ve missed, you note with no small amount of melancholy. At the arrival of that particularly sombre thought, you barely register Silco standing and helping Jinx gather up the paper and crayons, before telling her to go and wash her hands for lunch. She moves to the doorway reluctantly and stops, turning to face you.

You can’t help but smile warmly at her, which she happily rewards with her own heartfelt grin before dashing off down the hallway. There’s no time to reflect on how much you already liked the girl because your attention is drawn to the looming presence above you, looking down at you with rapt interest. Silco. You gape back up at him.

He repeats your name in a questioning tone and it’s clear he’s asking you to clarify that Jinx had told it to him correctly.

“Yes, sir” you answer meekly.

It’s not until the words leave your mouth that you realise just how awkward of a position you’re currently in. You’re practically kneeling at his feet. ...Oops. Silco must realise it too because the corner of his mouth twitches and he inhales sharply before taking a step back. In turn, you scramble to get up and seat yourself once again on the bed, your back resting against the headboard.

You take the opportunity to fully admire him now that you’re alone together. He looks infinitely more composed than he did in the warehouse, with not a single hair out of place. His outfit appears to be almost exactly the same in style, just minus the coat. A deep burgundy shirt hidden under an intricately designed vest and a cream tie to contrast the darker colours of his outfit. It’s a well thought-out look. One that oozes affluence and power. And it’s this very observation that halts you in your tracks. Oh no. You should not be finding a literal crime lord this attractive.

But you do, gods you do. It’s all you can do but scramble to push the shameful thoughts into a tiny little box in your brain, mentally lobbing the key into a labyrinth to make sure it couldn’t be found again. So, it wasn’t just the concussion that had planted those thoughts in your head when he was holding you. Honestly… Trust you to have a crush on the most unavailable man in the Undercity.

“Despite your apparent ease in impersonating one of my employees, you don’t have to call me sir,” he informs you, his voice returning to its smooth timbre. It’s noticeably different to the soft quality it had held when he was talking to Jinx and you feel a flicker of disappointment at that revelation.

Then you feel your heart stop as you register his words. A tiny (foolish) part of you had hoped he would somehow forget to bring up everything you’d said and done in response to finding yourself in a situation that seemingly promised your death. You can’t help but default to rambling again as your blood ran cold.

“Listen, I’m really sorry about all of that, you know, the whole snapping at you and pretending that I worked for you and speaking for you and complimenting your hands and, you know, just being an absolute eejit in general and-”

“How are you feeling?” he cuts you off.

It’s enough to throw you even more off-kilter, which you honestly didn’t think was possible, but alas, here you were. Since it couldn’t have been the concussion this time around, it must have been the water you’d drank from the bedside table, you decide.

“Like I want to do a belly flop into the River Pilt” you respond automatically.

His brow tightens a miniscule amount and he blinks once.

Shit. Wrong answer.

“Uh, I mean, I’ve still got a bit of a headache and I’m quite tired. How long have I been asleep?” you try to recover, hoping he’ll miraculously forget your odd confession.

“About 30 hours, give or take.”

What.

You watch as he pulls a chair from the corner of the room closer to your bed and sits down, one leg crossed over the other with his hands folded in his lap. Part of you is surprised he wants to sit in a wooden chair after being unwillingly tied to one for so long. You’re certain you don’t ever want to sit in one again, but you reason with yourself that it may be an impractical mindset to take, given society’s penchant for the little wooden bastards.

“You did wake up momentarily during your medical treatment, but I suspect your body was too tired to acknowledge it.”

“What kind of treatment?”

“A healing solution my doctor developed a number of years ago. It appears to have eased the marks from your bindings,” he gestures to your wrists and you suddenly notice there are no marks there at all.

“Oh.”

A quick glance down at your ankles reveals no signs of injury there either. You didn’t know what to say. You have no idea what kind of medicine could just erase that kind of discolouration almost overnight. There should have at least been some bruises or burns there, given how tightly the ropes had been around them.

“Well, thanks for getting me a doctor and for letting me sleep here, I really do appreciate it. I should, um, probably get out of your hair, shouldn’t I? You must be a very busy man,” you mumble as you shuffle your body forward into the middle of the bed, swinging your legs over the side.

“I do require you to remain here.”

Oh. So, you are a prisoner. You should have known better than to take Jinx’s word for it. You peer openly at him, now facing each other head on, as you perch halfway off the bed. The antithesis to the position you’d been in when you’d first met.

“One of the fools who kidnapped you managed to escape and has no doubt returned to his employer and informed him of the situation. Since he will now be able to identify you, it would be best if you completed the rest of your recovery here.”

One of the goons escaped? You didn’t dare ask what had happened to the other one, although you think you can guess. Silco must be able to read your hesitance because his tone softens slightly, as does his facial expression.

“I assure you, once Hendrick and his pathetic little gang have been eliminated, you will be free to leave.”

“Good. I’m already sick of staying in a room that looks like it was designed by the Mother Superior of a convent.”

Oh, fuck. Why did you say that?? After he so graciously allowed you to live AND got you medical attention and let you stay somewhere safe. He’s going to change his mind and kill you now. You just know it. You’d taken such a risk to save yourself from being killed and less than 48 hours later, you’d ruined it by (once again) insulting the literal Eye of Zaun.

To your surprise, he just laughs. You flinch at the unexpected sound.

“I apologise if the décor does not meet your standards.”

“Uh, that’s okay,” you tell him quietly, your face flushed with humiliation.

“I must confess, I did my research on you while you were out. I was surprised to learn that you’re a civilian. Where did you learn to talk your way out of situations like that?”

“I’m just used to convincing customers to buy stuff from the market stall I work at.”

He nods thoughtfully.

“I was impressed by your ability to persuade them to untie us, given your complete lack of experience in this world of mine,” he gestures vaguely around him, evidently unwilling to say the words ‘criminal empire’ outright.

“Why didn’t you say anything to them? I mean, you’re pretty well-known for your ability to negotiate.”

“I could barely get a word in edgeways. Besides, I knew my right-hand would find me, sooner or later,” Silco replies in a cocky manner.

Now that you’re less afraid he’s going to kill you for your insolence (after repeated offences with no consequences as of yet), you begin to settle comfortably into your preferred means of communication.

“Ah, so your tactic was to just wait there like a damsel in distress? Smart.”

He snorts and you revel in your astonishing ability to make the kingpin laugh. But there’s an observation you feel compelled to make, so you skip the opportunity to hear the sound again in favour of asking something serious. Something that’s been niggling at you throughout the whole conversation.

“Honestly, I expected you to leave me at the warehouse,” you tell him, your face dropping from its amused expression to one of sincerity, “I don’t understand what I did to deserve such kindness from you.”

“You risked your life to protect me, it’s only pertinent that I return the favour,” Silco answers without any hint of sarcasm or condescension.

You don’t know what to say to that and you can’t read his expression when he looks you in the eye. By the way his own eyes flicker between yours, you think he might be hiding something, but you’re not sure you want to find out. He inhales and exhales deeply, breaking the moment you were sharing.

“Sevika, my right-hand, will bring you some food up momentarily. Tell her if you require any more painkillers.”

With that, he stands and carefully places the chair back in the corner. You’re just able to mumble out a quiet breath of thanks as he crosses the room, opens the door, and stops in the doorway. His fingers grasp the door handle and his eyes meet yours, searching your gaze again as if he’s trying to figure something out. Silco nods once and gently closes the door, leaving you alone in your convent cell.

There’s no other way to say it. You’re utterly confused. Not only had he made sure you saw a doctor after your injuries, he’d gone as far as to give you a room to stay in, and even brought you under his protection, ensuring your safety from any potential gang threats. The only question on your mind was: why?

You flip through your options going forward. You could just leave. You doubt he’d put up much of a fuss if you just found the exit to the building and made your way back home. But a part of you just doesn’t want to. And for some reason, that terrifies you. How had you gone from fearing the King of the Lanes, like any other resident of Zaun who had some sense, to actively wanting to stay within his grasp?

You lie down sideways across the bed, your feet still dangling off the edge, and ponder this new dilemma you’d found yourself in, that was somehow more unsettling than the last.

You stay at The Last Drop for two more nights. In that time, your life seems to have altered so suddenly, that ‘past you’ would have cackled with laughter at the mere suggestion you would effectively be living with the Eye of Zaun. Not only are you brought food, Sevika also brings you a change of clothes and shows you where the shared bathroom is. And despite your stay being a very short one, you begin to slip into a little routine that you can’t help but enjoy.

During the daytime, you find yourself dragged down to the empty bar by Jinx, who directs you in playing games with her, watching her take apart little machines she’s put together, and scribbling some more doodles, despite how brutally she’d criticised your first ones. You’ve even begun to put up some of the artwork she makes you in the little room you’ve been allowed to stay in, with tape you’re almost certain Jinx has stolen from Silco’s office. You hope he doesn’t mind.

At one point, Silco catches you both pretending to have a pirate-themed sword fight with two umbrellas you’d found abandoned in a store cupboard. You spot him up on the balcony smirking down at you both, as you try to dodge her attacks, and the temporary distraction earns you a whack on the stomach from Jinx, who promptly forces you to walk the plank.

On your second evening, Jinx demands that you join her and Silco for dinner, and you’re surprised when Silco agrees, inviting you up to his office for the most luxurious meal you’ve ever had. He still wears his carefully cultivated mask, but you can tell it’s starting to crack with each little interaction the two of you share. Truth be told, you begin to treasure the moments of smooth banter between you both, the way you’re able to trade quips in rapid succession, the shared laughter as Jinx attempts to steal both of your desserts. You feel like you’re floating in outer space by the time you go to bed that evening.

By the third morning, you’re summoned to Silco’s office again. After being bid entry, you find yourself rooted on the spot by the door, your nerves starting to get the better of you as you’re unsure of the purpose of this meeting. Seated behind his desk, he politely tells you to sit down and you can’t help the affronted glare you give the wooden chair placed in front of his desk, as if by staring at it so intensely, you might be able to make it catch fire. Little bastard. Silco notices and waves his hand in the direction of the sofa, and you sit, but not before you spot the slight lift of his lips in response to your, quite frankly, ridiculous new vendetta.

“Hendrick is dead.”

“Oh, right,” you reply awkwardly, “did you kill him?”

“Yes.”

“Nice.”

Silco frowns. You hope he doesn’t think you’re being sarcastic this time. You’re not. You just don’t really know how to respond to a guy telling you he just killed someone, in all honesty. It should disgust you, make you want to run screaming from him. But it doesn’t. And that might be the most concerning part of this dangerous little dance you’ve become embroiled in.

“What about the other goon who kidnapped us?”

“Also dead. And the rest of the gang appear to have disbanded following the removal of their leader, so you don’t have to worry about one of them hunting you down.”

“Thank you. I really appreciate everything you’ve done for me,” you tell him sincerely. He nods and the action causes a sinking feeling in your stomach. Truthfully, you’re missing the playful banter that’s usually present in your conversations with the man. There’s something about the drowning tone this discussion is taking that makes you feel like your forced vacation is coming to an end. You desperately don’t want it to.

“Since there is nothing keeping you here now, it is safe for you to leave.”

Now, that’s not strictly true. You could think of a few things that could keep you here. Your mind skips through those very reasons like you’re playing hopscotch across stepping stones in a brook. It wasn’t all just about his looks or his poise. Since you’d been given the tiniest window into the true nature of the man behind all the scary titles, you’d begun to admire how he acted behind closed doors. The way he treated Jinx with more reverence and love than you’d seen in a long time. The way he’d made sure you were taken care of, despite having no real obligation to do so. The undeniable way you both seemed to click, in a manner you never had with another person.

But you couldn’t say all that out loud because really, you’d only just met the man. Instead, you nod sadly, hoping he couldn’t identify the sheer amount of disappointment that drags through you like a sinking stone.

“I appreciate you spending time with Jinx; she will certainly miss you,” Silco says in a way that places a deeper emphasis on those last words, as if it has a double meaning that he’s not quite willing to admit.

“I’ll miss her too, she’s a great kid. Whereabouts is she? I want to say bye to her before I go.”

“I’m afraid she’s out with Sevika.”

What? What does he mean she’s gone out? He must have killed Hendrick last night and so he must have known he was going to inform you of the news this morning. So why would he send Jinx away? You have a strange, horrible feeling that he’d done it on purpose, but for the life of you, you can’t figure out why. It didn’t make sense to deny you a goodbye to your new friend but you choose not to say anything to him. It’s not your place to dictate how he parents.

As you turn to face him, you’re stunned by how perplexed Silco looks as he openly studies your face. What the hell is going on in his pretty little head of his? There’s an elongated silence as you stare at each other, neither one backing down from this challenge you’ve found yourself in. You think he’s going to say something as his lips part, but he doesn’t, instead somehow looking even more conflicted than he already was. You concede the battle and speak first.

“Oh, right, you’ll have to tell her I said goodbye then. Well I guess I’d better be off. I should probably go and see if I still have a job.”

You stand from the sofa and cross over to the door, missing the way Silco’s eyes follow you every inch of the way. Maybe you’ve already become too accustomed to their mannerisms because you find yourself lingering in the doorway, fingers lightly grasping the doorhandle in a direct mirror to the way both father and daughter had done a few days before. You find the troubled look on his face to be so heart-breaking, it makes your stomach twist and you’re sure by this point it must have tied itself in a knot. You decide to break the tension the only way you know how. Some good, old fashioned torment.

“Don’t get kidnapped again anytime soon, I’ll be too busy begging for my job back to come running to your rescue, princess.”

He smirks.

“I’ll cancel the plans I’d made for next Tuesday then.”

Good. The ice is unbroken after its temporary freeze-over. All is well again.

As you’re walking away through the corridors of The Last Drop, you wonder if you’ll be able to see him again soon. But you can’t think of any legitimate reason to, bar from the fact that you just want to. You briefly consider if a career change might bring you closer to the kingpin. You could become a bartender? But you can barely walk from your sink to your kitchen table without dropping a glass, so that wouldn’t work. You could train to become a deadly assassin that he trusts with the most dangerous of missions? …Nah.

None of your fanciful plans to keep the man within arm’s reach seem to fit. Maybe you’re just The Wrong Person for him, you deliberate, with no small amount of disappointment. But gods, you wish you were the right one.

Your final thought on the matter as you make your way through the Lanes and back to your apartment is that maybe he’d be kind enough to just let you visit once in a while. If not to work for him, maybe just to visit Jinx and keep her company. Regardless of how you manage to wriggle your way back into his world, you hope deep down in your heart that this isn’t the last time you cross paths with the King of the Undercity.

PART 3

A/N: Cut to Silco playing Crush by Tessa Violet alone in his office after reader has left. Sorry if this one was a bit rambly. Also, the ending was more bittersweet than I’d originally planned but don’t worry bc there will be a part 3, so the angst won’t last forever! Okay, hope you enjoy the rest of your day/night!!

Tag list: @htmlbitxh

#silco #silco x reader #silco x f!reader #silco fic #silco arcane #silco x you #part 2

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brainrotcharacters · 2 years

Text

With me, sweetheart

ship: Marc x reader

a/n: catch me wishing I have this sort of support when the local municipal office contacted me. the government (derogatory)

summary: if your body is tired, you can’t think, right?... right?

tags: comfort can’t happen without the non-comfort bullshit. sfw. Gender neutral reader. if I want to mix my love for marc with my love for arnis in the same petri dish, I will. established relationship. marc’s love language is actually sparring.

Maintain the flow.

The bandages around your hands scraped against your flushed skin as your hits kept landing. Left side, right side, up, down, dodge, your footwork allowed you to burn through the numerous wooden dummies around you. Even as you reached a pair of nunchucks and later traded it for a toy gun, the opponents that you visualized attacked you relentlessly.

And then your next swing was stuck.

Marc gripped your wrist firmly. "You're getting distracted."

You pull away from him. "Actually, I never felt more focused."

He smacked a sore spot in your arm, causing you to flinch. "Leave me alone!"

"Oh, I'm sorry," he began sarcastically. "Were you hoping not to feel that until you were done destroying the place?"

Something like that. You turned your face away from him to see that he used the correct term. Pieces of the wooden dummies littered the floor alongside batons and blades, overused in some form or another under your chaotic touch. If you looked long enough, the mess reflected your current state of mind.

"Look, you have one of the quickest minds I've ever known. Why go through the trouble of exhausting your body to stop yourself from thinking?"

You whirled around to face him. "I'm not...!"

Marc leveled a look at you. It takes one to know one.

Your shoulders deflated, tongue pushing into the inside of your cheek. Fine. "I don't want to hear myself think."

He crossed his arms over his chest, waiting.

You gulped, noticing the love for you behind the hardness in his eyes.

"I have a situation, and I worry about what can happen. I figured if I did something familiar first, I can let the bullshit," you vaguely motioned to your head. "breathe for a second, and I'll be practical. I'm not... there yet."

Marc hated how your expression guttered when you said that, and took a steadying breath. "What can I do?"

While he can't influence your situation directly, he's still your boyfriend. There were a number of privileges attached to the title.

You tossed a pair of wooden batons towards him, and he caught them beside his head with a scowl. This is Steven's thing.

His expression made you chuckle. "I don't think it's Steven's thing, no. He just prefers the weapon."

Sighing to himself, Marc moved into position, one baton over the back of his right shoulder and the other across his right side. "Do you wanna keep it flowing?"

"Yes, please." you lifted your own batons.

Sparring with Marc as his partner felt correct and grounded, primarily because both of you know when the other is checking you out. When doing that actually earned him a punch to the face, and earned you a kick to the gut, you figured out new ways to flirt with each other in a fight.

It was easier to utilize during one-on-one. As you followed Marc's footwork, he returned the weight of your swings, eyes bright with admiration across the escrima sticks.

"This does it for you, huh?" his voice floated under the sound of wood clacking against wood.

"Please." You bit back.

Marc smiled wider. "That's the second 'please' you've given me unprompted, sweetheart."

Realizing his set up, you visibly cringed, interrupting the flow of your weapons with a stronger swing.

Marc giggled, spreading his arms in a mock challenge. "Come on. That's all it took?"

You reached the blunt knife you've been subtly beelining towards, and swung it in an arc back towards your boyfriend. Marc flinched into motion, dodging it with a shaky laugh. "You cheater...!"

With your hands to his jaw and his abdomen, you curled a foot around his opposite knee to take him to the floor. Marc managed to angle his body so that when he pushed a hand against your side, he pins you below him.

You were giggling on your way down. Marc considered his job fulfilled.

His smile softens. "Fear is good for one thing: it makes you ready. Doesn't matter what you do to be ready. You just have to get there and do what needs to be done."

"You're telling me I should keep my emotions out of it."

"If that's what it takes."

A sigh escapes your lips as you hold his gaze. "You're the same way."

Marc slowly nods, and moved to lean in. You meet him halfway, melting into his kiss and the intent it held to support you. You could keep your emotions out of it, and wait until you're together again to process them more easily. That way, there would be no room for either of you to feel alone (and do something stupid because of it).

Marc pulls away, propping his elbows against the floor to run his hands across your hair. He spoke quietly against your lips. "I think it's unfair that you're copying my techniques, but I like you, so I'll let it slide."

"You like me? That's embarrassing."

"You asked me out!"

You pecked his lips again. "So I did."

#marc spector x reader #marc spector #moon knight x reader #moon knight #moon knight x gender neutral reader #marc spector x gender neutral reader

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pastafossa · 3 years

Text

Flufftober 2021, Day 24 - Caught in the Rain

You can track my progress here on my Flufftober list, and you can find the official flufftober tumblr here! Anyone who’s read my TRT series knows how much we love some Hide-and-Seek/Devil-Hunt with the Devil, so I figured even the non-TRT readers deserved some, too! Also Matt is in the black suit because Matt + black suit + rain is a combo I can’t resist.

Ship: Matt Murdock x Reader Rating: SFW Wordcount: 1,080 Warnings: some sexy kissing because it’s required for rain scenes ok I don’t make the rules

When it started to rain, you almost called the game off.

You played Devil-hunt, this wild version of hide-and-seek, often enough that it wouldn’t have been some great loss if you’d both decided to stay in for the night instead. You’d have missed the fun of it, of course—there was something about hunting for a good hiding place in the entirety of Hell’s Kitchen, knowing Matt would use every last one of his heightened senses to track you down, that left you eager and breathless. Besides, a light rain could actually help him as he hunted for you—something about it, he’d told you, helped stir up scent, making it easier for him to follow a trail.

You’d decided against it. You were already wet by that point, soaked by the rain, and there was still a chance you’d chosen a decent hiding place. Tonight you’d chosen the inner courtyard of a small, empty apartment building under construction. Though you hadn’t been able to get into the building itself—instead using the fire escape outside to climb up to the roof, cross over, and then clamber down the scaffolding—you’d hoped the surrounding walls of concrete and wood might help block your scent and your sound, muffling the signals your body gave off. You were out of the way, and suitably hidden.

You should have known he’d find you anyway.

Fortunately for you, that was also the moment the light rain became a downpour, the heavens above opening wide. And that seemed to throw him off.

You forced your breathing to flow slowly and calmly, remaining as still as possible as he swept the courtyard, hunting for you. He tilted his head, moving like liquid shadow and huffing at the air in great exhalations of steam, the image calling to mind an ancient predator, hungry and wanting. He was searching for your scent, you knew—a scent now struck from the air, drenched and splattered down across the cracked flagstones by the flood of water. You had at least three minutes left on your timer, and the amount of rain coming down was only increasing, pouring from the sky in great, heavy buckets. It rattled and rang along the metal scaffolding around you, poured from half-built gutters to spatter loudly onto the ground. It was just enough noise to hide the racing of your heart and the unsteadiness of your breathing. But this kind of disguise would only work if you stayed calm and didn’t make any more noise than you were right now.

He prowled past you, coming with inches, a heat you could feel as he moved by. You didn’t turn your head, didn’t dare move a muscle to keep him in sight when the creak of bone and sinew might give you away. You’d even flattened your hands against your thighs so the water that trailed down your arms transferred to your legs rather than dripping off the tips of your fingers.

He circled the courtyard again, hunting endlessly.

I’ve got him this time.

He stopped, maybe ten feet in front of you, tipping his head back to inhale slowly. He hadn’t replaced his ruined red Daredevil suit yet, which meant he was once more in sleek, form-fitting black cloth. In the rain, that fabric hugged him even more tightly, clinging to each and every muscle. That definition was only enhanced by the way he was standing—legs apart, his head back as if he were simply enjoying the rain, his powerful, broad chest expanding on a deep inhale before he breathed out a swirling trail of steam. Running hot, even in the rain.

God, your Devil was beautiful. Part of you wanted him to catch you just so you could kiss him in the rain when he was like this, primal and wild and somehow, all yours.

And that was enough to give you away.

The tiniest shiver ran down your spine. That motion was enough to stir up the droplets that had collected on your skin, sending a fresh shower of water falling to the ground. That, combined with the heavy skip of your heart, produced more noise than the surrounding rain. It wouldn’t have been enough for anyone else, but this wasn’t anyone else.

Matt’s lips curled up as he slowly rolled his head back down to face you. The mask might have hidden most of his face, but you knew his blank eyes were staring right at you.

You tried to run, you did, but you didn’t get far. He skidded through the puddles, sliding across wet stone until he was in front of you. He growled playfully, snapping his teeth as you yelped and tore off in the opposite direction, your breath caught in your throat, your adrenaline surging. It was instinctive to run, not because you were afraid but just because, just to see if you could, just because it was fun to see how far you could get when you had the Devil at your heels.

There was no outrunning him. Not here.

You didn’t get more than two steps before he had you. Powerful arms snaked around you and promptly scooped you up off your feet with ease, despite your struggling, his voice low and warm as he laughed in your ear. “Mm-mm, found you.” He swung you around in a circle, raindrops scattering as your alarm went off and you let out your own laugh. “Found you, sweetheart. All mine, now.”

You squirmed around to face him, wrapping your arms around his broad shoulders and getting your legs around his waist, soaking in the rasp of stubble as he kissed and nuzzled at your throat with a satisfied purr, lapping away the droplets of rainwater, drinking from your skin. You tugged on the end of his mask until he willingly tipped his head back, chuckling warmly as you kissed him. You pushed in closer, nudged and nipped until he parted his lips for you with a quiet hum, letting you in. He tasted like rainwater and cinnamon, tinges of burning, molten copper on his tongue. You sighed happily, pulling back until you could breathe against his lips, one of his hands sliding up under the back of your shirt so he could stroke the back of his fingers fondly down your spine. Like this, your clothes both soaked, your bodies pressed close, he somehow felt warmer, the lack of space between you all the more intimate.

“My Devil,” you murmured, kissing him again as he held you tighter. “I’m gonna beat you at this, one day.”

“I’m looking forward to it.”

-x-

Tagging 🔥The Church of Saint Murdock🔥 taglist (to be added, click here): @thenerdlordparade @nurisiliel @psychedelic-star @weeb-verine @acrabbybish @nostalgicslumbers @shadows-echoes @the-bluest-hour @tashas-cauldron-of-tomato-soup @coolhairdocroissantpickle @andthewishingwell@juniebugg. @starry-ocean-floor.@strawb3rrydr3ss@bohemianrhapsody86@moonyinthestars @caswinchester2000@thequeenofthefallen @elementec @phantomkindalikejaiden@greatmoonchild @lov3vivian @mackycat11 @ownerofthehighground @melodicmel @vx-vexedvixen @bellamy-barnes @junipermurdock @claire-of-asgard @tripletstephaniescp @fanfictionreblogs @smemento @coldwetbasementnoodles @fuckingcams @pantaeudaimonia @janesofia7 @catsnow14@navs-bhat @hopplessdreamer @onemarvelouscleric @fulloffeels @belladonichaze39 @theheartshaker @lady-loves-a-lot @somanyyumypeoplejustletmehave1 @janesofia7 @aquamarinerose @youcandalekmyballs @shen-hongzi @pastamomma @lykaiosmedia @glxwingrxse @inaretuza @scorpiowidow @theoneonly-huntress @elizabeth-or-lily @untraveled-road @lavenderluna10 @shoppingcartlover69 @stardust-galaxies

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braindeadmaggot · 2 years

Note

For the sfw ship ask game... ZoSan please? (the nsfw is fine too if you want to do both or either)

I'll do both

SFW version (specify for which version you send the ship

1. Who is the grumpiest in the morning

ZORO - He wakes up around 10am so anything earlier than that is just a pain in the ass [can relate]

2. Who worries more when the other is sick/hurt

SANJI - he worries about everyone but especially so with Zoro, he doesn’t like to show it because Zoro gets mad about being coddled so Sanji does his best to take care of him silently without being too bothersome, usually just leaving his favorite meals in little tupperware in the fridge for when Zoro’s built an appetite or leaves medicine and water on Zoro’s nightstand for when he wakes up in the middle of the night. This is their love language.

3. Who plays pranks on the other

SANJI - fueled more so by Usopp, Zoro acts like he minds but he has fun with it too. Especially since only 14% of Sanji’s pranks actually work lol

4. Who is always the first to suggest cuddling on the sofa

ZORO - They usually cuddle without any engagement, they just sit together and it flows into a cuddle naturally, but on days where Sanji is hyper-stressed and panicky, Zoro will drag him over to sit and hug out his frustrations

5. Who insists on creating nicknames for the other

SANJI - Sanji insists on pet names and Zoro insists on calling him adulterated versions like booby/boob instead of baby/babe, dartboard instead of darling, shitty instead of sweetie, horny instead of honey, etc etc. Sanji hates it but sometimes he likes it cuz at least the dumbass is doing SOMETHING amirite?

6. Who says ‘I love you’ first

ZORO - during a particularly dull day when they’re just hanging out and yeah maybe it’s kinda boring and Sanji doesn’t look particularly happy but still very relaxed, Zoro looks over at him and feels all the content and peace he could ever hope for and just says it out loud. The abruptness of it all shocks Sanji but he absolutely swoons. Nothing makes him happier than knowing that Zoro said it first

7. Who’s the messiest one

ZORO - ”It’s called organized chaos, cook. Do not touch my stuff”

8. Who feels the most uncomfortable about PDA

SANJI - he’ll flirt in public, he’ll fight in public, but holding hands and kissing his man for all to see makes his heart flutter and his breath catch and he’s so bashful he freezes in a panic. If Sanji is going to kiss or touch Zoro in any way, he’s gonna go all the way. Can’t do that in public

9. Who’s the funniest drunk

SANJI - He thinks he can dance when he’s drunk and proves himself wrong every time

10. Who texts the most

BOTH - Sanji likes to text sweet nothings, Zoro likes to send memes

11. Who has the most embarrassing taste in music

NEITHER - okay maybe Zoro, but that’s only because Perona added a bunch of music to his phone without his permission that one time. Also, he likes Nickelback. I like Nickelback. Fuck you all, we don’t need your approval

12. Who reads the most

BOTH - Sanji reads biographical cookbooks, and travel and food blogs. Zoro reads motorcycle magazines and reddit. I read fanfiction, not that anyone asked lol

13. Who’s better with kids

ZORO - he has the patience for it and always instills discipline in naughty brats. Sanji has no patience for kids, is always ready to bro down with a 3rd grader, and will tell dirty jokes and trip them while they walk. Sanji is a prick but he would make a good dad. That is until their kids become teenagers.

14. Who’s the one that fixes things around the house

ZORO - Zoro can fix a leaky faucet, realign gutters and Spackle a wall. He may not be able to build anything like Franky but minor repairs are easy. He can however rebuild a car engine.

15. Who cooks and who cleans up

BOTH - Sanji may be the chef in the relationship but his job can be taxing so Zoro takes charge in the kitchen every once in a while. During their first month together, Sanji came home really late to find Zoro had made stew and was impressed by how good it was. “I can make this much, ya know. It’s just meat and veg in a pot; what’s difficult?” Zoro has always been able to cook basic meals and Sanji loves it when he’s being taken care of. Chores are done when they are noticed; whoever is available does it. It’s an unspoken agreement they have. You see something, you have free time; just do it.

#this is my longest one yet #I have many ZoSan opinions #BrainDeadAnswers #anon #ZoSan #ship meme #op headcanons #op ship meme

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doctormacchiato · 2 years

Text

Drawn to the Surface - Part 4

Inspired by @six-feet-sleep’s art of tattooed Silco that you can see here. Don’t try to tell me that man isn’t completely tatted up under those fancy shirts and vests.

Continued thanks to @of-the-argonath. Honestly, the best. Don’t where what I’d do without you.

AO3

Prev. Part. Next Part

Summary: Reader tattoos Silco and it’s the catalyst he needs to go from a young man betrayed to the Crime Lord we know and love.

Silco x Tattoo Artist!Reader SFW Words: 5758

“Come, there’s something I want you to see!”

With your tattoo kit tucked away carefully, you don’t hesitate to take Silco’s hand.

A kind smile is offered to him as your fingers meet. It’s quickly replaced with surprise, however, as he yanks you up. Flung forward, you stagger on your feet, clumsily catching yourself on the wooden pillar beside the booth.

“Silco, take it easy!” You say with a laugh. “I didn’t just spend two hours tattooing those vines for you to blow my lines out on the first day!”

But Silco is already out the door, hair streaming behind him, the door swinging wildly on its hinges.

You jog out behind him. Though it’s still relatively early in the evening, the light of the sun doesn’t quite manage to filter this far down into the Fissure.

“What’re you still doing down there?”

You look up. Of course, he’s already fifteen feet up on some precipice, feet dangling over.

Leaping up onto a beam, you swing your legs over before twisting yourself upright. With well- practiced balance, you tiptoe across and jump up to grab a pole directly below him. It’s just close enough that you can stretch up to grab onto Silco’s waiting hand.

He hoists you up beside him.

“I’m impressed. When’d you turn into such an acrobat?” He asks.

“When I had to learn how to keep up with you.” You’re already striding past him, poised to leap onto the neighboring rooftop.

Silco chuckles. “Actually, it’s this way.”

You roll your eyes, turning back to him. “The only thing in that direction is Topside,” you argue.

“Exactly.”

“I—” you start, although the expression on Silco’s face tells you that his mind is already made up. It doesn’t hurt to try. “What about what happened to Kerrill last week? That Enforcer broke her nose without even asking questions first.”

Silco ignores you, tilting his head up to a platform high above you. “If we take the lift from there, it’ll land us just a few blocks from a bridge. They’re doing maintenance and I know one of the guys. It’ll be easy to get through.”

“Silco, Vander said—“

“Vander’s not my keeper.” Silco cuts you off. “And you haven’t joined yet. What do you care what Vander says?”

“I just don’t want to go looking for trouble.”

Silco snorts. “Did Kerrill also tell you about the stolen bracelet that was stashed in her pocket?”

You shake your head. No, she hadn’t.

“We’ll be careful.” One side of Silco’s lips flicks up in that characteristic, roguish smirk of his. The one that you find yourself having a harder and harder time saying no to. He bends down, weaving his fingers together as a platform for your boot.

“Trust me.”

“Fine,” you concede, placing your foot in his hands and your hand on his shoulder. “But this is a terrible idea.”

Silco’s only answer is to heave you forward. There’s a moment in which you’re suspended midair, weightless, before your fingers latch onto the gutter above you and you pull yourself up.

Reaching back, you offer your hand in turn. Silco doesn’t need it, of course, with his added height. But as he retreats a few steps for a running start and surges forward, leaping, a foot pushing off the wall besides him, a hand reaching for the same gutter, the other still reaches for you.

You pull him up with more effort than you want to admit and as Silco comes over the ledge you lose your balance, falling backwards.

Suddenly Silco is looming over you, trapping you between his hands and knees. His loose hair dangles over you both, shielding you away from the world. He has that look in his eyes. Mischief. Sentimentality. More fondness than you know what to do with.

“Don’t you love those? Bad ideas?”

You look up at him, still breathless, losing yourself in the aquamarine blue of his gaze. The light pink of his thin, slightly parted lips. The way his throat bobs just slightly before he leans in—

“You need a haircut,” you say dryly before rolling sideways, pushing through the barrier of Silco’s arm so he collapses to the ground.

You stand quickly, brushing the Undercity’s grime from your clothes. You glance down to where Silco is still prone.

“What’re you still doing down there?” you ask, pointing your thumb over your shoulder. “Lift’s this way.”

Silco glares up at you.

“Oh, you’re going to pay for that,” he threatens, hoisting himself to his feet. That characteristic smirk still residing upon his lips, however, makes it quite difficult to feel intimidated.

________

Silco is correct in that your trip across the bridge is uninterrupted, passing through with only a quick wave to one of the laborers tending to the stonework.

It’s not that those from the Undercity are forbidden from crossing into Piltover. It’s the suspicious frowns and pointed questions that quickly grow tiresome, knowing that you are unwelcome. It’s like they can smell the Undercity on you. Ever since you could remember, they’ve treated you like

second-class citizens, as if the air you breath is tainted the moment it leaves your mouth. Eventually, one finds that it is much simpler to avoid Topside altogether.

With the construction limiting traffic, this part of the city is unusually quiet, consisting mostly of apartments and a few vendors packing up their wares. The summer’s late sun has perhaps an hour before it drifts below the horizon.

You quietly follow behind Silco as he sticks to back alleys.

“So,” you start, nearly jogging to keep up with Silco’s long strides. “What was it you wanted to show me?”

“It’s a surprise.”

It’s several more minutes before you hear the distant shouts of excited children. As you near, the ruckus grows louder and is soon accompanied by spritely music and the metallic whirrs of carnival rides.

Soon, the smells of sweet, fried treats and sugary candies drift towards you.

Your mouth waters, a childish excitement welling inside you. Silco turns back, bright mischief shining in his gaze.

Turning the corner, you’re assaulted with the flashing lights and colors of games and decorations. There’s a stand selling some sort of colored ice concoction and another with candied meats. You don’t think you’ve ever seen so many children in one place, dashing from one corner to the next.

You shimmy closer to Silco, speaking loud enough to overcome the festive music. “But it’s not anytime close to Progress Day?”

Silco shrugs. “Heard a tip that it’s some council member’s kid’s third birthday and they were throwing a street party. Thought it’d be fun for us to see what the big deal was.”

“It’s a lot for a toddler.”

Bright signs over a booth advertise fried dough, covered with your choice of colored powdered sugar and topped with fresh fruit. You can’t remember the last time you’d eaten a piece of fruit that you hadn’t had to carve the moldy, rotten bits from.

“That’s Topside for you,” Silco says. He must have followed your gaze, because he then continues with, “you want one?”

You shake your head. “I’m not going to let you spend a day’s wage on a dessert.”

Silco shrugs. “More like half a day’s.”

“Really, Silco, you don’t have t—“

“Wait here.”

You don’t have the opportunity to argue further as Silco slips through the crowd. After waiting several minutes, he returns with your treat in hand and ushers you to a small bench. Sitting down, you can feel your heart quicken in your chest as Silco places the steaming dough in front of you.

“Dig in.”

It looks even more delicious up close than you could have even imagined. A nest of golden, fried dough sprinkled with interchanging swaths of blue and pink powdered sugar. Atop it lies an assortment of berries, delicate orbs of red, blue, and purple. Each is perfectly plump, glistening with fine sheens of moisture.

It’s so beautiful that all you can do is stare as the warm, buttery scent fills your nostrils. You lick your lips in anticipation, but every time you reach up to tear a piece off, you hesitate. It feels almost wrong to consume something that looks so delectable.

Finally, you pull a small piece from the edge, plucking a small berry to accompany it.

“Okay, you enjoy. I’ll be back soon,” Silco says just as you place the flaky dough upon your tongue. The sweet taste is nearly enough to distract you from the thought of him abandoning you.

“Wait, what?!” You mumble around the food as Silco tries to retreat. You swallow hard, not even able to savor it. “You’re leaving? Where are you going? Don’t you want any?”

“It’s for you. I have a bit of business to attend to. I’ll be back in ten minutes.”

“Really?” You lower your voice. “You’re meeting up with a contact here? Now?”

Silco nods. “Couldn’t be helped.”

You sigh. Of course, a street carnival would be the perfect distraction for Silco to sweet talk his way through some deal. He’s quite literally buttered you up so that you have no room to argue. You stare down at the treat in front of you, feeling your appetite evaporate.

“I get it,” you say, failing to keep the disappointment from your tone, “Two birds with one stone, or something like that. But I’m going with you.”

“No need. You enjoy that. I’ll be back in ten minutes. No more than twenty.” Silco reaches into his pocket, pulling out a few tokens before placing them on the table. “Go have fun with one of those games over there. I expect you to win one of those overly large stuffed creatures before I get back.”

“No more than twenty minutes?” You ask, pocketing the change.

“I wouldn’t bring you all the way out here just to abandon you. I’ll be quick.”

You nod before gesturing to the dough, “At least try it. It’ll be cold when you get back.”

Silco nods and pulls off a small edge of the dough before tossing it in his mouth. You can tell he’s trying to keep a straight face, but you don’t miss the slight dilation of his pupils or how he takes extra long to chew, savoring it before he swallows.

“Happy now?” He asks.

“Yes.” You smile, before reaching up to squeeze his shoulder. “Now don’t do anything stupid.”

“It’s like you don’t even know me.” Silco winks as he rises, stealing another piece of the dough. Your hand falls off his shoulder as he leaves.

You follow his tall, dark head as it weaves among the crowds and tents and then slips from sight.

Finishing about a third of the fried dough before you can’t stomach another bite, you pick though the rest of the berries instead. Though it seems a waste to throw the rest away, it doesn’t taste quite as sweet without someone to share it with.

As Silco had suggested, you waste your time with pointless carnival games. Some test sharp- shooting skills, others the pitch of your throwing arm. You decide on a luck-based game where one tosses a small rubber ball at a field of vases. Where it falls determines the prize.

The first three tries win you little more than consolation prizes. A small piece of candy, a tiny spinning top, even a cheap woven bracelet. On your fourth, however, the little ball ricochets off the side. You nearly sigh in defeat before it bounces back and forth and then settles in the center vessel.

“Yes!”

You jump as a loud, congratulatory bell sounds over you and the vendor points wildly to the ceiling above you, demanding you choose your reward. You settle on a cute, purple shark, nearly as plump as those berries, with tiny fins and large, pointy teeth.

It’s only when your arms squeeze around your new ward, that you realize that Silco’s twenty minutes are more than up. You glance around, thinking maybe he’s having a hard time finding you in the crowd, but he is nowhere to be found.

What catches your eye, however, is a distressed Enforcer on the opposite side of the square. You watch as he abandons his post, pace quickening as he pulls out a weapon. You begin to follow, and are halfway across the street, when you hear a distant shout.

The crowd freezes then parts before you like a school of fish. And there, dashing between them, is the subject of your ire. Face bloodied, limbs discoordinated, Enforcers scrambling at his heels. Yanking on a vendor’s stand, tropical fruits fly in every direction as Silco leaps over a fallen crate. He’s nearly free until another Enforcer intercepts him.

Silco dodges in one direction, but as he swerves past the armored man, the Enforcer snatches onto his hood.

You gasp as Silco is caught and swung into the ground, a heavy punch thrown into his temple, swiftly followed by another to his jaw. There’s a moment of struggle and you start to sprint across the street until Silco grabs onto a handful of dirt and throws it into the Enforcer’s face. Momentarily blinded, he loosens his grip and Silco wrests himself free. Staggering to his feet, he throws his own fist into his attacker’s nose.

It only takes a moment before Silco is upon you, wrapping his split-knuckled fist around your upper arms. Despite his pursuers, he pauses just for a second as he sees the stuffed shark in your arms, a look of near-pride upon his bloodied face.

“Run!”

It takes only that single word to kick your feet into gear and suddenly you’re running as fast as you can, slowed only slightly by having your arms so full. Silco trails just behind you as you race towards the direction of the bridge.

You emerge onto the main road and cringe as you crash straight into an old woman walking two small dogs. Her screeches are nearly as strident as those coming from the small furry creatures beside her.

“Sorry!” You exclaim, but you don’t have time for more apologies as you glance back. You’ve gained a little bit of a buffer, but multiple Enforcers are still hot on your trail. You whip down a side alley, hoping to lose them.

“Don’t look back!” Silco warns as he follows behind you.

His warning is just a second too late, however, as you suddenly trip, knees scraping against the pavement as your shoulder dives into the ground. You don’t feel pain. Only fear as the Enforcers near ever closer.

Silco yanks up on your jacket, momentum never stopping as you find your feet. You scramble, finding it difficult to right yourself with your arms full. But you refuse to abandon the large plush.

Silco tears it from your grasp, stowing it under his arm as he continues to sprint forward, pulling you with him.

“Come on!”

There’s no time to look back to see how close the Enforcers are, focused only on getting to the bridge as quickly as you can.

You ignore the shouts behind you telling you both to stop, far too close to comfort. You can feel the burning in your knees and the streaming drips of blood down your shins. Your lungs are screaming at you, begging you to stop.

You can’t.

Finally, you’re across the bridge, muscling past the confused stoneworkers. Dashing down now- familiar streets, you run several blocks before you climb onto a nearby rooftop, leaping from building to building until the burn in your arms matches that in your legs.

You’ve lost them.

You brace yourself against the crumbling facade of a nearby wall, desperately trying to control your breathing. Knees giving out, you sag against the brick, sliding until you hit the ground beneath you.

“What happened?” You ask, voice cracking as Silco kneels down beside you.

“Are you okay?” He asks, examining your knees, sanguine messes of dirt and blood.

You look up at him. He’s just had the shit beat out of him, and he’s asking about you? Already, his face is swelling. Shades of black and blue are developing around the orbit of his eye as blood swells from the deep split over his upper lip. And despite him leading you to this predicament, you can’t even blame him.

“Yeah, I think they’re just scratched.” You grimace as you bend one to examine the damage more closely. “And a bit bruised.”

“I’m sorry.” Silco winces as he turns and sits, head leaning against your shoulder. Luckily, it’s the one that hadn’t been well-acquainted with the ground.

“Was it a setup?” You question between gasps of breath.

“Maybe.” Silco mumbles. “I was waiting for the contact. Vander said it was just a simple drop. Never saw him before I was being swarmed by Enforcers.”

Silco pulls the stuffed shark, battered and dirty, from beneath his arm, placing it upon your lap. “Sorry about your little friend,” he says tiredly.

You stare down at the plush. It’s filthy from your fall during your mad dash and a little deflated from being held so tight. Looking at it, you’re suddenly filled with a sense of clarity and anger.

“I’m doing it,” you say.

“What?”

“I’m joining. The Sons and Daughters of Zaun.”

Silco turns towards you, a look of shocked disbelief upon his face. “But you said—

You shake your head, taking in a deep breath. “I... I can’t do it anymore. Stand by while they expect us to roll over like dogs. I’m tired of sitting down and shutting up. For fuck’s sake, they’re throwing a freaking festival for a toddler and yet we’re the ones scolded for wanting more? Because we happened to be born on this side of the river?”

You rise, unable to contain the fury that sweeps through you. You toss the stuffed shark to the ground, unable to stomach even looking upon it.

“Because we’re sick of choking down their scraps? Because we refuse to die in their mines? I... I thought if i just carved out a little bit of a life for myself, that I could be content, but I can’t . I’m tired of running. I can’t watch you get hurt anymore. You deserve more. We deserve more. We need to show them that we are here. That we refuse to break. I need to do more than just—“

You don’t know when Silco had risen, but as you turn around, you are cut off with the soft sensation of lips upon yours.

Shocked, you nearly pull away, but are anchored by the tight fist buried in the lapel of your jacket. But as your surprise fades, you realize that you can’t get enough.

Your hand wraps around the back of his neck to draw him closer. The passion of your tirade fuels the fury with which you meld your lips with his. It’s everything you never knew you needed, his hand upon your back, the other raking through your hair.

You part, breathless for an entirely different reason. The fading taste of blood and sweat lingers on your tongue, sweeter than you had ever thought possible.

“It’s your decision,” Silco says, foreheads pressed together, breath mingling. “It’s always been your decision.”

You pause. You’ve been dancing around this for months, ever since that drunken revolutionist had first sauntered into your life.

You answer by wrapping your arms around Silco’s slim torso, pressing your face into the crook of his neck.

“I want this.”

Silco’s arms squeeze tighter around you as he leans down, pressing another kiss to the top of your head.

You’ve never wanted anything more.

__________

“Come, there’s something I want you to see.”

As your memory fades, it surprises you, the ease with which you reach up to take Silco’s hand, as you had a thousand times before. You can’t forget the pain that still lingers. Not yet. But it would be so simple to fall back into comfortable familiarity.

If not for the shorn sides of his hair and the blazing left eye, you could almost pretend that he’d never been gone at all. That he is the same reckless revolutionist. The one that had once made you feel more hope than fear for your future.

You can see how desperate he is to be the man you remember, with his quick quips and gentle touches. You know he isn’t. There’s more pain, more anger, the depths of which you cannot even begin to fathom. The unblinking eye is stark proof of it.

But the man before you isn’t asking you to join a rebellion. And he’s not asking you to fix him. He’s asking you to take his hand, to trust him, and let him lead you wherever he may. As Silco stares down at you with all the gentle earnestness that one can muster, you decide that you don’t have to forgive him— not yet— to place your palm in his.

“I assume you are now quite recovered from our first jaunt across the city,” Silco says as he pulls you forward with a familiar weight.

“And what if I say no?” You challenge as you rise.

Silco lets out a snort as he releases your hold, retrieving a pair of overcoats that hang on the banister of the staircase. He drops a coat into your arms as he leans down to your ear, tone low.

“Then perhaps it is time to push the limits of what we find comfortable.”

There’s a beat in which you forget what you are supposed to do with the swath of cloth and leather. It’s not until you see Silco place his own upon his shoulders that your mind comes back to you and you slip your arms into the sleeves.

“Stole that from a slightly younger and slightly slimmer Topsider last night,” Silco admits. Adorning his shoulders is the old, tattered coat you’re familiar with.

You examine the dark, maroon-trimmed leather of your stolen garment, deciding you won’t question its origin.

The leather is rather stiff, though still comfortable with its soft, woolen interior lining. “It’s nice. A little big for me. Odd for a Piltovian, though.”

“Looks better on you than it ever did on him.”

____________

Exiting the Cannery, you glance over to the old docks and water’s edge. The very last of twilight’s golden rays dance upon the serene surface. It’s deceptively peaceful, for what lurks not so far beneath.

“This way,” Silco says softly, leading towards the city center. You have to jog slightly to keep up with his long strides. Soon, the streets narrow to tight alleyways as buildings begin to loom high above.

It’s a busier locale, nearing the markets and business districts, coming to life as night takes its hold. Silco slows only to pull up the hood of his jacket and you do the same.

“Did you know you have an odd habit of taking me places without telling me where we’re going?” You say as he nears a ladder. It scales an apartment complex, leading to a maze of balconies above. You look up skeptically, spying several rungs that have rusted away from the Undercity’s ever-present haze.

“Patience,” Silco answers, stretching up to yank at the side of the ladder. It remains surprisingly intact, and with a slight jostle, rattles down the side of the building. Silco perches his foot against the bottom rung, stabilizing it.

“Well, that seems safe,” you droll.

Silco shrugs, gesturing upward. “Ladies first.”

You ignore every logical bone in your body as you mount the ladder. Avoiding the obviously rusted rungs, the rest feel deceptively solid beneath you. Each step is placed tenderly, anticipating any give that suggests that you’re about to fall to an untimely doom.

Luckily, the climb is relatively short. The ladder, however, is missing several rungs at the top and you have to scramble over the railing of the balcony. It appears fairly abandoned, dark behind the cracked, stained window.

Silco manages much better than you did with his height, gracefully joining you upon the balcony. After quickly brushing off his front and readjusting his hood, he reaches towards the doorknob.

“Silco!” You scold. “You can’t just—“

He brings a finger up to his lips in the universal gesture to be quiet, stopping just short of actually shushing you.

The lock is already broken and the door swings silently open in its hinges with only a slight nudge. The apartment is indeed abandoned, a thick layer of dust coating the floor and the few neglected pieces of furniture. It’s been months, if not years, since anybody occupied the space.

The thuds of footsteps above you, however, indicate that the building still harbors some form of life.

“Come,” Silco whispers as he moves towards the entryway and lifts the deadbolt. The door opens to a dimly lit hallway. Stepping through, you’re accosted with the odor of mildew and rat droppings from the obviously soiled carpet beneath your feet.

The stairwell smells somehow worse than the hallway, with the added stench of urine. You don’t question it, but avoid using the handrail as you climb multiple stories to the roof.

Opening the hatch, you’re grateful for the relatively fresh air to soothe your aching lungs. You really do need to get out more, if half a dozen flights of stairs has you gasping like this.

The rooftop is perched along the edge of a Fissure, buildings lining the crevice below. There isn’t an obvious route away from the rooftop and you’re suddenly hoping that Silco isn’t planning to descend.

After securing the hatch, Silco walks up to you and lightly squeezes your shoulder before striding past.

“Remember what I said about testing limits?”

Without warning, Silco breaks into a jog and, reaching the edge, leaps across. He lands with all the grace of a panther on the neighboring rooftop and turns back, beckoning you to follow.

Your eyes widen at the considerable gap that now lies between you. Glancing down, there’s at least eight stories to the bottom.

“Don’t think so much,” Silco says. “It’s closer than it looks.”

You shake your head, “Yeah, maybe for you, but some of us actually have normally sized limbs and a functional sense of self preservation!”

“Trust me.”

This is a terrible idea.

But at his reassurance, you collect your nerves and back up several steps. With a final, deep breath, you run as fast as you can and launch yourself across the gap.

It’s a little overkill. Your momentum carries you a bit too far, causing you to lose your balance. You’re about to fall forward until a strong arm wraps around your waist, gone as soon as you find your feet.

“I told you it wasn’t that far.”

And that is how your journey continues. Sliding down rooftops, jumping from balcony to balcony, swinging across beams and ducking under bridges. At every misstep, Silco is there to reassure your balance and soon your confidence grows.

Somewhere along the way, it gets easier. Your leaps become more measured and your fear is replaced by exhilaration.

Your chest heaves as you finally find yourself at the edge of a relatively affluent residential center closest to the Promenade. The haze so prevalent near the Fissures isn’t quite so thick here. The facades of the buildings no longer look like they are going to crumble beneath the weight of the structures above them.

“I knew you still had it in you,” Silco says as he drops down to your side. Even his breathing is slightly labored as he pushes back several stray strands of hair.

“You were right.” Laughing between breaths, you nudge him with your elbow. “It was fun.”

Silco stiffens for just a moment before he looks down at you, right eye softening, contrasted with the transfixed fire of his left. The sharpness of his cheeks and nose mellowed by the light of the moon, you’re reminded of that different time, upon a different rooftop.

Your laughter fades with the sudden, familiar fluttering in your stomach. Before you even realize what you are doing, your chin tilts up just slightly.

You have no idea what you wanted, yet feel strangely disappointed when Silco moves his head away from you, pointing to the tall building looming above you.

“Ready for a little more breaking and entering?”

_________

“So this is what you wanted me to see?”

You’ve never been to the top of the Promenade. It’s cold here, the winds unbuffered by the open air around you. It’s clear enough this far above the Fissures that you can see the Council Building far across the Pilt. It doesn’t seem so far.

“You said you wanted inspiration.” Silco says, leaning against a spire. “Look up.” Above you, tiny glimmers of light dot the sky.

“We traveled halfway across the Undercity and up a skyscraper to look at the sky?” You ask, slightly confused. “I’ve seen stars before, Silco.”

“On this side of the river?”

You think for a moment, realizing that he’s right. “I guess not.”

“Exactly. But how many can you count?”

You take a minute to study the night’s sky. There’s only a few, the biggest and brightest shining through. Even at this height, most are still masked by the fumes of the city. “I don’t know. Maybe a couple dozen?”

“There should be thousands.”

“Yeah,” You sigh, shivering despite the heavy jacket upon your shoulders. “I’ve read about them.”

“I’ve seen them.”

You look to Silco, seeking an explanation, but can’t make out anything but the glow of his eye amongst his silhouette.

“Where?” You ask, wary of prying.

“Far from here.”

“How very descriptive.”

“It doesn’t matter where,” Silco says, now an edge to his tone. He pushes off from the spire and strides across to the edge of the roof, staring over the city. “What matters is that I stared up at those stars and realized that it was never wrong.”

“What?” You ask softly.

“Wanting more.”

As his voice falls, it takes all the self control you can muster not to stride over to Silco and wrap your arms around his thin torso. Instead, you stare back up at the sky, to those few, barely visible stars studded around a waxing moon.

“I will alter the design,” you start, understanding dawning upon you.

“Hmm?”

“I drew the creature leaping around the sun,” you explain. “Towards the light. But I realize now that was never what we were reaching for. That’s not what Zaun is.”

“And what is Zaun?”

Without your expressed consent, your feet carry you to Silco’s side, shoulders nearly close enough to touch. The thoughts rise easily to your mind.

Beautiful. Broken. But something that you are still proud to call yours.

“You tell me.”

There’s a long pause between you, swathed in darkness.

“After the...”Silco hesitates, collecting himself. “When I left, I told myself that I would never return. I couldn’t. Zaun was dead. Nothing more than a fantasy that I was foolish enough to believe in.”

You shake your head, recognizing the lie in Silco’s statement.

“Then why did you come back?”

“Because it wasn’t Zaun that died that night.”

The implications of Silco’s words aren’t lost on you, even as he speaks them without inflection. As if he no longer has the capacity for the emotions that spurs them.

It breaks you.

“I won’t ask you what happened,” You start, careful with your choice of words, even if all you wish to do is throw your arms around his lithe frame. “Not yet. But I want to help you.”

“...I won’t let you be my martyr.”

“I’m not being a martyr!” You exclaim, trying to rein in your anger. “But I need to know what you want from me. What you want. I can keep this professional. But if you want this, if you want to fight for what we deserve, like I think you do, there are still people willing to fight! Good people that will fight with you . Vander really doesn’t have as tight of a grip on the lanes as he thinks.”

You stop as Silco tears himself away from you, breathing heavily.

“I am fighting! Every day I’m fighting. To be stronger. To take back what he stole from me. Zaun. The Lanes. You.”

“He never stole me, Silco.” The words leave your mouth before you are able to stop them, those feelings of pain and regret fueling you.

But you can tell he’s reached his limit, and so you don’t press any further. There’s nothing to be won from it. So it surprises you when he continues, tone dead.

“I know that I haven’t been fair to you. I want to tell you. But I... I can’t. Not when I still, not when... not when every breath that I take feels like I’m... like I’m—“

“Drowning,” you finish.

Even in the darkness of the night, you can see his shoulders sag. You can hear him struggle to control his breathing. And even as the details trickle, it feels like a breakthrough.

You go up to him, the darkness makes it that much easier to gather your courage. You reach towards his downcast jaw. Forcing Silco to look at you, you don’t comment on the slight dampness you feel as you bring it forward.

“I meant it when I said that you don’t have to tell me. But I’ll always be here. You never lost me,” you say, telling him what you know he needs to hear. And you realize your anger was never directed at him.

You don’t hesitate this time to wrap your arms around his torso, keeping them there even as he stiffens. Even as he attempts to pull away. Even as you feel the slight tremble of his shoulders.

Finally, he relaxes, raising his own arms to wrap around you.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to– I truly only wished to show you the stars. For inspiration.” Silco whispers into your ear, head pressed against yours. “To have you see Zaun as I do. As I still do.”

“Don’t apologize,” you say. “And I already do.”

You stand there for several more moments before Silco pulls away though his hands remain cemented on your hips. He stares down at you with that uneven gaze.

“And how is that?”

“Beautiful,” you say, echoing your thoughts from before. “Broken,” you continue. “As something that doesn’t need to be saved, but deserves a champion nonetheless.”

#Silco #Silco x Reader #Silco x You #TattooArtist!Reader #Fanfiction #Drawn to the Surface #DttS

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