#silco/gn!reader

[fanged-fanfics]

☆ "You Can Have My Last Name" — Zaunites x GN Reader ☆

Genre: Fluff || they/them pronouns for reader || No warnings needed

A/N: I'm pretty sure this idea is like. Everywhere by now. But people from Zaun/the Undercity don't really have surnames so plot is basically what if Reader offered up theirs. Simple and cute type stuff idk I wanted some fluff

──────.𖥔 ݁ ˖˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ──────

Viktor

ᯓᡣ𐭩 Mentioned the nature of his lack of a surname rather casually, while venting about how Piltover kept trying to say his paperwork was 'invalid' for lacking one. He explained to you that it was common for anyone in the Undercity, and that most from there didn't have one at all

ᯓᡣ𐭩 More confused than anything when you offer yours, or he at least pretends to be. The truth is the idea flustered him coming from you so casually, so to cope he acted like he didn't know what you were implying

ᯓᡣ𐭩 Thinks about it for several weeks afterwards, subconsciously mulls over how your name would sound paired with his in his mind. He writes it down a few times too, just to test it out. Finds out pretty quickly that he likes the sound of it

Vi

ᯓᡣ𐭩 Doesn't miss the implications a bit, as a matter of fact she IMMEDIATELY flirts back by asking if you'd really give your precious name to any pretty face you come across

ᯓᡣ𐭩 Teases you about the idea relentlessly any time the subject of names is brought up, or in any way she can really. Often makes jokes that she's gonna make a fool out of the name

ᯓᡣ𐭩 Secretly actually very honored that you'd offer it up to her but she doesn't feel like admitting that yet, you're gonna have to deal with jokey teasing for a good while first

Jinx

ᯓᡣ𐭩 Snarkily says she wouldn't be a good fit for your name to hide the fact that she really doesn't think she deserves to be considered a part of your life

ᯓᡣ𐭩 "Ohh, you might be crazy too if you're gonna give it to someone like me"

ᯓᡣ𐭩 Feels kinda bad that she wouldn't have anything like that to offer you in return. She loves the idea of having a family to belong to again, but her own self doubt gets in the way of admitting that to herself

Ekko

ᯓᡣ𐭩 "Oh- uh- what??"

ᯓᡣ𐭩 Genuinely very caught off guard. Not at all in a bad way, he just doesn't know how to respond to such a sudden and blatant flirt. Quickly tries to think of something to say as you're chuckling and reassuring him it's okay

ᯓᡣ𐭩 He ends up telling you through his fluster that it's not really gonna bring you any good to proudly announce a Zaunite as part of your family name. But in the end, he gives you a soft smile and says it's a nice thought he isn't against

Sevika

ᯓᡣ𐭩 "Is that so?"

ᯓᡣ𐭩 More keen on the idea than you'd might think- tells you it wouldn't be such a bad idea, but you'd have to prove it's a name worth adopting first, teasingly daring you to make it a name you'd both be proud to wear

ᯓᡣ𐭩 Tells you to reconsider once or twice, but mostly because she loves seeing how determined you get when defending her right to bear your name

Silco

ᯓᡣ𐭩 Doesn't pick up on what you're implying at first at all, simply tells you that isn't how that works and you're talking nonsense

ᯓᡣ𐭩 You have to prod into the implications a little more to get him to finally register what you're actually trying to say. It takes him a moment, but when he catches on he falls silent for a while

ᯓᡣ𐭩 Ends up mildly tripping over his words while telling you he's not really someone to give such an important thing to, and that you should get a better head on your shoulders and keep focused (largely to hide the fact that the offer genuinely caught him off guard. He's never gonna stop thinking about it)

Vander

ᯓᡣ𐭩 Actually not against the idea. Seems to chuckle it off at first, but once he realizes you're being serious he fondly mulls over the idea with you while cleaning up for the night

ᯓᡣ𐭩 Recognizes the idea might not be very feasible, but hey, what's wrong with having hope? Everyone's allowed to have dreams to chase, right? No harm in chasing this one together, then

ᯓᡣ𐭩 Promises that once things are settled down enough that he'll try to make it happen with you. As long as the kids he takes in are all alright with you, of course

[op1umeyes]

“Come to bed.”

Silco had been so consumed with the paperwork in front of him, he hadn’t heard you open the door and pad over beside him. His already drooping, soft eyes warmed when he leaned back in his seat. “Sit with me, darling,” he cooed in that raspy tome of his. “Then we can go.”

You ungracefully straddled Silco’s lap. His nimble finger rubbed your back through one of the fuzzy blanket you’d acquired. The clock struck one in the morning when you finally stumbled out of bed in search of your love.

A barely audible hum escaped Silco’s throat. “You’re so good to me,” he mutters absently. A sleepy sigh heaves your body as you curl into him. You say nothing.

“Come to bed, Sil,” you say again- this time with a yawn. When Silco finally rises- with you in his arms- you smile lethargically as he shuts the lights off and closes the office door.

[nausicaaandhermouth]

A Kiss For Loyalty

masterlist

young!silco x gn!reader [1.2k][AO3]

summary: You find him after the attack on the bridge, and you're left to figure out how to tread the fragile state of him.

tags: young silco, a few hours after vander tries to drown him, angst, established relationship, hurt silco, not betad

a/n: mid-lecture we were looking at photos of gash wounds and i couldn't help but think of young silco's face fresh after the drowning, so ofc i had to write a comfort fic for him. kinda comfort. it's mostly angst.

Vander couldn’t look you in the eye, couldn’t form a single word. And at first, worry was what overtook you—Silco hadn’t survived, lost in the fight. But the more you looked at the larger man who had returned, the more you recognised something else: the aftereffect when he’d had too much to drink, had raised his voice, had felt guilty. Regret.

You find Silco in your bedroom, curled up on the worn mattress that had held you both some countless nights. It had overheard the visions for your new nation, the sloppy passion of drunken evenings, the quiet rise and fall of breaths during winter. Now it’s witnessing something new.

You’ve never heard Silco cry. Your bedroom shrinks at the sound of it, as if the corners darken and round themselves to hold and hush him. It’s a sharp sting, an undeniably pained cry bleeding into his palm, cupped around his mouth.

When you approach, you’re silent—assessing, investigating, worrying if this isn’t something you can fix. He’s never been so evidently broken. You’re not sure whether it’s about Vander or at the failure of their uprising, both of which had taken a large portion of his heart.

“Silco?” you whisper, taking another step forward.

“Don’t,” he manages, his sobs becoming quieter, but affecting his breath, bubbling out of him in squeaks and chokes. “Please,”

You shake your head, keeping your ground but keeping your eyes on him. He’s refusing to remove his reddened hands from his face, his hair curtaining over his left side, black, wet strings.

“You’re hurt,” you furrow, focusing on the blood down his hand. You rush forward, chest attempting to wrangle in a frenzied heart. “Show me, hey, S—”

“Stop!” he inches away from you, a childlike recoil that makes you freeze.

It’s a foreign behaviour, a desperation he’s never worn, never come close to mimicking. As far as you’ve known him he’s been the opposite. Even in pain, he stitched together a composure so convincing it made others doubt he could ever truly feel the hurt he was raised around.

You suppose that it’s something he’s worked on, refined throughout the years after taking on the responsibility of becoming Zaun’s face, alongside Vander. His ideologies had spilled straight from his heart into your ear. You understood why he worked so hard to maintain a strong face.

That man was gone; he hadn't entered the room this time.

He’s hiding, you see, shielding his face from you. This, you understand, is something he thinks may spare you from even a fraction of the pain he must be feeling. He’s always been so. To hoard the suffering and smile.

“You don’t want me to see you?” you ask, kneeling by the bed and retracting your hands.

Silco doesn’t answer, the chokes of suppressed sobs the only sound from him.

“It’s alright,” with a shake of your head, you turn around, facing the other way and leaning against the bed. “I don’t have to see you. Just… just talk to me,”

You wait a beat, then another, waiting for his voice, willing his voice to regard you again. Anything with a meaning that you could warp into a sign of hope.

“Please,” you add. It’s unintentionally desperate, pleading, giving him the power of controlling where the conversation goes. Something he needs, you suppose, something he’s certain is still predictable.

You hear a sharp breath behind you, then the shuffle of your bedsheets. Your eyes slide the farthest they can without turning your head, attempting to see any glimpse of him.

Then his hand enters your periphery, pale skin against scarlet, fingers twitching and shaking as his forearm rests on your shoulder.

You take gentle hold of his hand, turning it this way and that in search for wounds. But nothing. “Who…” your breath escapes, “Is this your blood?”

“Yes,” he responds, a word that pricks at your lungs sharply.

You see the moment clearer now. A wound so deep that to reveal it is its own pain.

You recall Vander’s face. The shame that distorted his features, how ugly it becomes as you try to piece together the fragmented pieces. 

“Vander did something,” you surmise. Your breath quickens, a sneer creating brackets around your flared nostrils. “Did Vander do something?”

You feel Silco’s breath near the top of your head, but before you’re able to turn, a weight settles over you. Momentarily, you hold, letting the firmness of his muscles process on your body, around your shoulders, his other arm snaking over your bones and holding you backwards to him.

You hear his soft sniffs over your head and slightly to one side, the bone of his cheek pressing against your crown.

There it is again. It’s a spear through your body, the sound of him. It strikes a fissure along your lungs, each sudden inhale a crack veining in your airways, each tremoring breath he takes an earthquake on your skull. Vander, what have you done?

You take his hand and hold it to your cheek, the cool back of his hand against the warm apple of your face. You interlace your fingers, a familiar practice, just as fluid as the locking of legs in the night, or the pressing of palms for a prayer.

Next was the chaste kiss on his index knuckle, for loyalty. Then on the middle knuckle, for liberty. Another on the ring knuckle, for luck. And lastly, a kiss on the pinky knuckle, for love.

It was a silent conversation he and you had made, meeting mouth to bone always easier than devoting a voice to each word.

His other hand wrapped around your wrist, bringing your arm upwards and over your head, your own knuckles meeting his familiar lips. But they tremble.

He breathes a kiss, gentle, on your index knuckle, starting, then failing. His breath falls jagged on your skin.

For a moment he restarts, the warmth of his air hovering over your knuckle. But again he fails.

Your frown deepens. Even more so when he moves your hand and skips to your pinky knuckle, the only promise fulfilled.

“How bad is it?” your voice slightly muffles against his hand near your mouth.

He swallows, clearing his throat. “At the… we were at the river, he—” he grips your hand slightly tighter.

“It’s still hurting?”

His clothes shuffle. “Yeah,”

“Let me look?”

Silence.

You start to think he’ll reject you again, not yet prepared to face you in whatever shape Vander had left him. But he loosens his arm around your shoulders and moves away, his presence at your back fading.

Your other hand remains in his, the anchor, as you shift on the floor and turn.

You look up and your eyes meet. No. One eye meets yours.

You sense his panic by how the one remaining blue jumps between your eyes, tips of his mouth downwards. He brushes aside his wet hair.

The left side of his face had been marred, a trench of exposed muscle, skin, and blood bared at you. The blackened sclera is haunting, a flame moving in tandem with the watery blue of his other eye.

You’re more than certain there’s nothing but indignation gushing through your veins. Yet, Silco remains beautiful. You realised a long time ago it was difficult for him to not be, no matter the state of him. And still now, left eye diseased with the molten of betrayal, mouth frowned by grief, fear in his good eye.

“It’s not over,” he whispers, leaning forward as you reach up and cup the unmarred side of him. “We’ll take back Zaun,”

There he is. No man, no river, could ever kill him. “You’ll show them,” you press a kiss to his index knuckle.

[stillnotyourmusebitch]

Late night thoughts....

Imagine finding younger pictures of Silco and him trying to puck the photo from your hands but you just say.

"Damn so it is true."

He grabs the photo to lock it away. But asks what you meant.

You walk over to him lifting his chin to look at you.

"Men do get finer with age."

Then you lean down and kiss his goofy lil smile.

(The things I would do to this man are unreal. Get that boy moaning like a wanton whore)

[shimmerandink]

NSF(W)Dom! Silco headcanons

NSF(W)

Tags: Silco x reader, nsfw, ownership, marking, possessiveness, control, dirty talk, choking, begging

Minors don’t interact!

Note: Hello! I really enjoy writing for you guys! Based on all you answers on mu poll yesterday I figured out you were both interested in Silco following with you shopping and Nsfw headcanons! Majority wanted some nsfw so that’s what I will give you first! I hope you enjoy these nsft headcanons with our dearest Silco!

Masterlist

~ Silco doesn’t just fuck you. He owns you. And he wants you to know it.

~ He doesn’t share. He doesn’t care if someone so much as looked at you the wrong way that day, by the time he’s done, you’ll be marked and ruined beyond recognition.

~ He likes seeing his bruises on your body, scratches down your thighs, bite marks where no one else can see.

~ If he suspects you’re teasing him or being bratty? He’ll grab your chin, force you to look him in the eye, and demand you explain yourself.

~ Silco thrives on control. He decides when, how, and if you get what you want.

~ He’ll make you beg, not because he needs it, but because he loves watching you break.

~“Look at you. So desperate. So pathetic. And yet, you’re still mine.”

~ But just as easily, he flips to praise, whispering filth in your ear about how you belong to him, how perfect you feel, how you were made for him.

~If he’s really lost in it, his voice turns low and breathless,a stark contrast to his usual control.

~ If you’ve pushed him too far, expect him to take it out on you.

~ He doesn’t stop after one round, he keeps pushing, fucking, overstimulating until you’re sobbing into the sheets.

~ Gloved fingers around your throat, whispering threats in your ear about how he’s not done yet.

~ “What’s wrong? You can take one more. You want to be good for me, don’t you?”

~ When you’re a shaking mess, completely spent, he finally stops, pulling you close, his grip still firm, his voice still dangerous. “Next time, don’t test me.”

~ If you’re innocent, shy, or hesitant, Silco takes it as a personal challenge to break you.

~ He’s slow, methodical, whispering every filthy thing he wants to do to you until you’re begging for it.

~ “You don’t even realize what you’re asking for, do you? I should make you beg louder.”

[eatmyheartoutjpg]

ARM'S LENGTH // Previous: Oh Shit ;; Rom! Soulmates AU. Insight with your dynamic with Silco, your unlikely soulmate.

12.10.24 Masterlist

Your soulmate being the kingpin of Zaun? It was the last thing you’d ever expect. Out of the billions of people in the world, fate had tied you to him. The Eye of Zaun. The man whispered about in fear and reverence across the undercity. The mere thought was enough to make your head spin.

You often wondered how you ended up here, standing at the entrance of a world you had no business being part of. One moment, you were navigating the gritty streets of Zaun, trying to avoid drawing attention to yourself. The next, you were tethered to one of the most dangerous figures in the city.

Since the fateful moment you exchanged words, your life had been flipped belly up. Silco—your… soulmate—had insisted you stay by his side. It wasn’t a request. It was a command, one delivered with the same authority that made lesser men crumble.

At first, you were reluctant. Terrified, even. You wanted no part of his life, knowing full well the danger and depravity that came with it. Yet, when faced with the alternative—remaining vulnerable and exposed in a city teeming with threats—you reluctantly agreed. Not because you trusted him, but because you didn’t trust anyone else. You knew that if word got out about your connection to Silco, your head would have a price on it by sunrise.

Still, you couldn’t shake the feeling that he resented your very presence. Soulmates or not, it was clear that Silco didn’t want you here. He didn’t need you. To him, your bond wasn’t a blessing; it was an inconvenience.

He treated your connection as a mere obstacle, something to be tolerated rather than cherished. While you stayed in his line of sight, he hardly acknowledged you unless absolutely necessary (which was slim to never). Conversations were curt, directives delivered without room for discussion.

You were certain he saw you as an object—something fate had saddled him with. An obligation to manage, a liability to his empire of power.

He's discovered the end of the rope that tied you to him and now he's done with it.

And in some ways, you couldn’t blame him. He was a man with a singular vision, a relentless drive to shape Zaun’s future. In his world, attachments were a weakness. Trust was a currency he didn’t spend lightly. And you? You were the unwelcome variable in his otherwise carefully calculated plans.

He kept you close. Too close.

Silco’s insistence on your presence was suffocating. You could feel the atmosphere and his intentions, it wasn’t out of affection—there was no warmth in the way he spoke to you or the sharp glances he threw your way when you stepped even slightly out of line.

What unsettled you most was the secrecy. Despite your proximity to him, he hadn’t introduced you to anyone—not his workers, not his chem-barons, not even the bartenders at The Last Drop, where his office was directly above, where he conducts his business.

The only person you’d made any sort of contact with was Sevika, his right hand and infamous powerhouse. You’d seen her often enough to recognize her effortlessly intimidating presence, the way she carried herself with confidence was all from countless battles won. Sevika wasn’t someone to cross, not unless you had a death wish.

Her reputation preceded her: a woman known for getting tasks done with brutal efficiency and unapologetic force. The whispers about her around Zaun painted her as unshakable, her loyalty to Silco as steadfast as her punches were devastating.

And you? You were thoroughly intimidated.

Sevika never spoke to you. Not a word about your sudden and constant presence at Silco’s side. Not about the obvious tension hanging in the air whenever she entered the same room. She didn’t even spare you a questioning glance. If she had thoughts about the situation—or about you—she kept them buried beneath her cold exterior.

Whenever she passed you, her gaze remained straight ahead, her indifference as sharp as ever. She didn’t so much as glance in your direction, as though acknowledging you might disrupt some delicate, unspoken balance.

At first, her silence was almost a relief. You weren’t sure what you would have said if she’d confronted you, weren’t sure if you could withstand the force of her scrutiny. But over time, her indifference began to grate on you. You couldn’t decide what was worse—the way Silco scrutinized you like a puzzle he couldn’t solve, or the way Sevika ignored you entirely, as though you didn’t even belong in the equation.

You often wondered what she thought of you. Did she resent your presence? Did she know the truth about your connection to Silco? Or did she simply not care, too focused on her own responsibilities to spare you a second thought?

Whatever the answer, her silence only deepened your sense of isolation.

In a world where alliances were everything, you had none. Silco kept you close, but not close enough to trust. Sevika barely acknowledged your existence. And the rest of his network? You were just another shadow trailing behind their leader.

“What are you thinking about?” Silco’s voice cut through the heavy silence of the room, flat and devoid of warmth. It wasn’t curiosity that drove his question but rather an obligatory check-in, as though he were asking a subordinate for an written report.

You didn’t answer right away. Sprawled on the leather couch in his office, you lay there with an almost detached stillness, your gaze fixed on the cracked ceiling above. The faint smell of tobacco lingered in the air, mixing with the faint metallic smell of Zaun’s pollution that seeped through every corner of the undercity—though it was stronger the closer to the center of Zaun's underground you got.

Your body felt heavy, the kind of weight born not just of physical exhaustion but a deeper, lingering weariness. You slowly turned your head toward him, your movements sluggish, as though even this small effort was a monumental task.

He was seated at his desk, the usual mountain of papers and reports spread out before him in a disorganized sprawl. A cigar burned lazily in the ashtray nearby, its smoke curling upward in thin, ghostly tendrils. It was clear he hadn’t bothered to put it out; maybe he enjoyed the reminder of its presence, or maybe he simply didn’t care.

For once, Silco wasn’t hunched over his desk in the midst of his tireless work. Instead, he was leaning back in his chair, arms resting on the armrests, his pen abandoned beside the document he had been signing. His mismatched eyes were fixed on you, their gaze as impassive as ever.

He looked at you like he might glance at a stray dog lingering too close—an idle sort of indifference, mixed with vague curiosity but devoid of any real emotion. It was a look you were used to by now, one that never failed to make you feel even smaller in his presence.

“Well?” he prompted again, his voice as dull and unhurried as before.

For a moment, you held his gaze, meeting his detached expression with one of your own. Then, slowly, you turned away, breaking the silence with nothing more than the soft rustle of your clothes against the leather couch.

The ceiling reclaimed your attention, its worn and water-stained surface more comforting than the man sitting across from you. What could you possibly say to him?

"'Oh shit,'" you mumbled under your breath, almost as if testing the weight of the words on your tongue. They felt foreign now, despite having tumbled out so naturally when you’d first met him. “I can’t believe that’s it.”

The words hung in the air, awkward and unpolished, just like the first time they’d been uttered.

There was another lingering pause.

Silco didn’t immediately reply, his eyes fixed on you as he leaned further back in his chair with composed authority. The silence wasn’t uncomfortable—at least not for him. For you, however, it pressed down like a weight, making your chest tighten as you waited for his reaction.

He finally hummed, the sound low and almost dismissive, as though your musings barely warranted a response.

“It’s undignified,” he said, his tone carrying that familiar edge of disapproval.

You didn’t flinch at the criticism; you’d grown used to it by now. He had made no effort to hide his disdain for the phrase since the moment it became clear you were his soulmate. The phrase on his wrist—the one you’d unknowingly delivered in that fateful moment—had been etched into his very being for years, and it was abundantly clear he hated every letter of it.

“You’ve mentioned that before,” you replied, keeping your tone even. It wasn’t worth snapping back.

His lips twitched into the barest hint of a smirk, though it lacked humor. “Because it bears repeating.”

You sighed softly, slightly adjusting to make yourself more comfortable, as if trying to retreat from his judgment. “It’s not like I chose it. If anyone should be offended, it’s me. Who greets their soulmate with ‘Don’t move,’ anyway?”

Silco’s gaze sharpened slightly, though his posture remained relaxed. “It was a pragmatic response to the situation.”

You arched a brow as you turned back to face him, meeting his expecting gaze, the faintest flicker of a smile tugging at the corner of your lips despite yourself. “Pragmatic? That’s what you’re calling it?”

He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the desk as he clasped his hands together. “Would you have preferred I be poetic while you stumbled out of an alley, ready to flee?”

You opened your mouth to retort but stopped, realizing you didn’t really have a better answer. You shook your head.

“Fate has a terrible sense of humor,” you muttered, slowly pulling yourself to sit up.

Silco didn’t immediately respond. When he did speak, his voice was quieter, though no less measured.

“Fate,” he repeated, the word rolling off his tongue with a hint of distaste. “I don’t put much faith in it. Fate is… inconvenient.”

“And yet, here we are.” You murmured, barely loud enough for him to catch.

He held your gaze for a moment, something unreadable flickering behind his eyes. Then, without another word, he leaned back in his chair again, reaching for the cigar that had been forgotten in the ashtray.

tgs ;; @trixie541 @90s-slasher-seji @miffysoo @sevikashimmerstrap @magicaltigerking

[marksbear2]

SILCO X ENFORCER MALE READER

I’m not even gonna lie…this is straight angst💔. This is my first time writing for arcane so let me know what you guys think about it.

⚠️Warnings!- forbidden love, angest, sex mentioned, love reciprocated to late, reader dies, fatal gunshot, doomed mlm.⚠️

Fallen Flame

The undercity of Zaun had a pulse all its own. The flickering lights, the low hum of machinery, the scent of oil and metal. It was a world that lived and breathed in chaos. Among its many streets and alleys, two men stood on opposite sides—one an enforcer, the other a master of control and manipulation. But fate, cruel as it was, had a way of binding their lives together in ways neither could foresee.

You were an enforcer—a soldier in the fight for Piltover's clean streets. The job was simple in theory: uphold order, ensure the laws were followed, and stop people like Silco. It had become your mission to rid the undercity of his influence, to shut down his criminal empire once and for all. But somewhere along the way, things had begun to blur.

Months of chasing shadows had brought you here—into his web. You’d grown obsessed with taking him down, the infamous leader of Zaun's underworld. He was dangerous, manipulative, and infuriatingly elusive. But behind the venomous words and cruel exterior, there was something that drew you in—a deep fire of conviction, one you couldn't help but admire despite yourself.

And you hated him for it.

But then... you’d hated him for so many things.

It started with stolen glances during interrogations. Heated arguments in dimly lit alleys. A desperate, feral kiss exchanged one fateful night when hatred boiled over into something raw and unspeakable. You hated how your body betrayed you. Hated how he kissed you back, biting and brutal, until you couldn’t breathe.

For months, your meetings had been like this—barbs traded like weapons, insults masking the fragile truth neither of you dared to say aloud. You hated him for what he stood for. He hated you for everything you represented. And yet, the tension between you wasn’t just hatred. It was something more dangerous. More intoxicating. It was why you kept coming back, why he kept letting you.

Yet the clandestine meetings continued, each one a powder keg of tension and desire. Every argument left scars—both physical and emotional. And every time you found yourself in his arms, it became harder to pretend this was anything but an addiction. But neither of you admitted the truth. That would’ve been weakness, and neither of you could afford that.

He hated it too, but no matter how hard he tried your touch was engraved into his skin. The sound of your voice was better than any song he heard. Your scent was better than any candle or flower. The way you kissed and made love with him, it was different. You were different…

The night it all ended was suffocatingly humid, the undercity choking on the fumes of industry. You’d received intel of a weapons shipment in the docks, one you knew would solidify Silco’s stranglehold on Zaun.

You weren’t going to let that happen.

The ambush was chaotic. Gunfire erupted, smoke filling the air. Your squad was outnumbered, overwhelmed. But you fought through the chaos, determined to find him. And you did. Silco stood at the edge of the pier, his silhouette illuminated by flickering flames. His men lay scattered, defeated, and his sharp gaze met yours as you leveled your gun at him.

“Don’t move.”

He tilted his head, a faint smirk playing on his lips despite the blood on his temple. “You won’t shoot me.”

Your hands trembled. You wanted to prove him wrong. You wanted to hate him enough to pull the trigger. But you couldn’t. "Why?" The word tore from your throat, a desperate plea. "Why does it have to be this way?"

Silco stepped closer, his voice calm, almost tender. "Because the system you serve will never let us be free. And you... you were never meant to understand that." His hand moved to his coat, and instinct took over. You fired.

The sound was deafening.

But when the smoke cleared, it wasn’t Silco who fell.

Pain exploded in your chest. You looked down, stunned to see the crimson stain blooming across your uniform. One of his men, barely conscious, had fired the shot.

Silco’s face twisted in something unreadable as you dropped to your knees.

The world blurred as he knelt beside you, his hands pressing against the wound.

"You idiot," he snarled, but his voice cracked. "Why didn’t you walk away? You could’ve left this behind." You tried to speak, but the words came out as a cough, blood staining your lips.

"Don’t... don’t act like you care now," you rasped.

His grip tightened, desperation flickering in his eyes. "I don’t."

"Liar."

Silco’s jaw clenched. For once, he didn’t have a sharp retort.

The pain was fading now, replaced by a strange, numbing warmth. Your vision dimmed, but you forced yourself to meet his gaze one last time.

“I—” you started, but the words caught in your throat.

He leaned closer, his voice barely above a whisper. “Don’t. Don’t say it.”

But it was too late. “I loved you,” you murmured, the truth spilling out with your final breath.

Silco froze, his hand still pressed against your chest as your body went limp. The weight of your words hung heavy in the air, shattering whatever armor he had left. For a moment, he stayed there, staring at your lifeless form. Then, slowly, he stood, his face a mask of cold fury and unbearable loss.

The enforcer who had dared to challenge him, who had been both his greatest rival and his deepest regret, was gone. And for the first time in years, Silco felt truly alone.

In the weeks that followed, whispers spread through Zaun. The enforcer who had dared to defy Silco was dead. But what they didn’t know—what Silco would never admit—was that he’d lost far more than just an enemy that night. He’d lost the only person who had ever truly saw him.

THE END

[marcyvamp1re-blog]

✧. . . NO DAWN TOMORROW ─── Arcane

Coming Soon ! ! !

「 you're far away from here

but you're alived in so many places 」

☆ . . . The days pass like blank pages, and my heart, weary, has stopped searching for reasons to keep beating. If I ever loved or was loved in past lives, those memories have lost their warmth. What once were feelings are now only pain.

Their icy blue eyes looked at me with sorrow as my body crumbled in their hands. I caressed their cheeks, so beautiful, painted with pure scarlet that mingled with crystalline, salty tears, burning my pale, cracked face, scarred by my greatest mistake.

I cried and suffered in their arms while everyone watched.

There was no reason, no justification for what they did, beyond greed. The fear faded from their eyes, but betrayal lingered in mine.

I could hate them, of course I could. But deep down, I only wish to see them again someday, to meet them once more, perhaps under different circumstances... Maybe when we are all children again.

Even though I know we are different, I swore to protect them.

You may kill me over and over, as many times as you wish. But a king is always there to protect those who cannot protect themselves.

No matter how much they hurt me, no matter how much they break me, my heart keeps finding a way to love them, because the pain has never been stronger than what I feel for them.

█║▌│║▌║▌│█│▌║│█║█║│▌║│█║▌

Yandere! Arcane x Reincarnated! Reader

I want to include this text in future fanfics, but I feel that both this and other projects need a separate introduction before I publish them. I want them to have the proper context and truly reflect what I want to convey. I’m not sure if I was under some kind of intense inspiration when I wrote this (or maybe my blood sugar just dropped!), but I’m so eager to start giving it shape. Plus, I finally created an account on Ao3 (at last!), which makes me even more excited to share these stories with you all. I know it’ll be a challenge, but I’m ready to let these ideas come to life. I hope you enjoy them as much as I’m excited to write them

Ao3 User → @MarcyVamp1re

marcyvamp1re-blog © 2025 !

[ethnicallymoral]

Hey, so, do you think his precum is pink with shimmer?

Just a thought (read: begging) for ao3 authors and fan artists to consider.

Sorry, I’m ovulating.

[honey-tongued-devil]

Messy

Another WIP—consider this an incentive to let you know that there are about five more fully rendered Silco drawings coming soon, both as fanart and potentially as prints on my INPRNT (CLICK HERE).

A huge thank you to everyone who started following me, commented on my post, and even went to read and comment on my ongoing fanfiction (Younger Silco x GN Reader, alternative timeline). You’re absolute gems, I swear your support means the world to me.

For anyone interested, CLICK HERE to go straight to the story on AO3!

[mirapril]

help how did i already read all the new arcane fics

[stillnotyourmusebitch]

Young at Heart - Alternate!Silco x GN!Reader

This all came about from a 'Late Night Thought' I had last week and i didn't think it would have any traction and it seemed to take off. So, I wrote the fic. (The poll wanted it the Alternate timeline Silco. This is my first time writing this version of him)

((Fluff, humour and established relationship) with a suggestive ending)

When Silco asked me to drop everything and meet him in the upstairs office ASAP. You know I threw my bar rag a little too hard in the direction of my co-worker, hitting him square in the face, declaring I was taking my break early. I couldn’t even hear their disgruntled profanity ridden response. As I was already hopping up the staircase, taking some of the steps two at a time. When I burst through the door, my excitement instantly vanished.  

“When did a bomb go off in here?” I chuckle dryly as I try to edge my way into the office to get a better look. Papers were strewn about all over the floor, boxes overflowing with files and receipts that surround a rather dishevelled looking SIlco who was sat in the center of the explosion.  

“Ah, you’re finally here. You can start over that side of the room.” Not even looking up from his mismatched pile of papers, he waved off in the general direction he wanted me to be. 

“Ya knooooow. When you told me to drop everything, this was not what I had in mind.” I sighed as I slowly manoeuvre my way, without slipping, through piles of documents and files to the far corner where he wanted me to begin. “Why are you needing my help exactly?” I ask flicking the lid off a box stuffed with all sorts of crap I couldn’t care less about. 

“I’m trying to find certain set of files that I need to update the agreement we have on the bar but as you can see from the mess around you that the filing system I had perfectly in place was not up to standard and I'm needing to go through everything again because ‘some’ people did not see fit to follow my system.” 

I can hear the exasperation laced in his voice.  

“Where is Vander and why isn’t he helping you with this?” I turn to face Silco, he meets my eye. 

“He is out trying to buy me the time to find said files. It’s the least he can do after this.” He gestured to the mess around the room. “He thought he knew exactly where the files were and . . .” He imitates an explosion sound throwing some of the papers he held to get his point across. I wince at the realisation of it all. 

“How long have you been going at this? I feel like I haven’t seen you in ages” I lean gently against the bookshelf as to not upset any boxes nearby. 

“Hours have become days and I'll be damned if it becomes weeks.” He throws the last of the papers in his hand down onto a makeshift pile that collapses under its own weight. “Urgh, fuck me!” he rubs at the bridge of his nose.  

“If I'm honest I thought that’s why you called for me.” I smirk at his gently reddening cheeks. Choosing to change the subject matter I ask. “What do these files actually look like? I might be able to help you better knowing what I'm trying to find.” 

Silco realising his basic error, begins to explain what I needed to assist him in recovering before we settle back into the search again. 

----- 

The task carries on for a few more hours in a comfortable silence. I had to ask if someone could talk to my coworker about my elongated break. When SIlco requires my presence most of the time he calls me away from work it's for a brief yet hot and handsy make out session that leaves me flustered when I go back to my post. Our relationship was known only to a few close friends and family. But I’m pretty sure everyone knows now because he and I aren’t quiet by any means. Yet nobody says anything about it to protect his professional image. 

“AHA!” Silco exclaims aloud as he stands up from the desk chair, a few precious papers clutched in hand. 

“Found them I see.” I glance over my shoulder briefly at his gleeful face. 

“Yes, finally.” He lets out a sigh in relief, looking over to where I was preoccupied with a box that he didn’t realise was accessible to me. “Please stay out of that one. It's labelled private for a reason.” His voice catches when he saw what I held. 

“Daaaaamn, so it is true.” I turn waltzing over to him, being careful of the still very messy floor, I flip the photo over in my fingers so he can see better. 

“Give me that.” When I get close enough, he reaches out for worn item in my hand. I lift it just out of reach above my head, playing a little game of keep away with his beloved memory. He steps nearer to me, so our chests are touching. 

“Oooo, so close.” I change hands quickly keeping the photograph away from his long fingers. “Come on you can do better than that sweetheart.” I smirk booping his nose quickly with the corner of the photograph before pulling my hand away again. His left arm snakes around my waist turning us around enough so he can push me backwards onto the desk with him almost straddling my right thigh. 

“Well now” I wiggle my brows suggestively, making sure the photograph is still too far away to grab in our new position. 

“Get your mind out of the gutter.” He rolls his eyes at me as he leans closer for the photograph. 

“Funny you say that as it’s normally you dragging me down with you.” I lift my knee grazing his inner thigh causing him pause. 

He says my name in a warning way. 

“Okay Mr Serious pants.” I reply in a mocking tone. 

He manages to finally grab the photo from me, checking it for rips or tears before pulling away and walking back to place it safely back into the box of memories. I follow behind him, wrapping my arms around his waist, resting my chin on his shoulder. 

“Next time you see a something marked private. I expect you to respect my privacy.” He places a one hand on top of the box of memories and the other rests atop my crossed arms. He sighs again.  

“Maybe you can grow it out again.” I let my inner thoughts be known. 

“What are you talking about?” He turns his head to the side to look at me. I pull one arm away so I can thread my fingers through his much shorter hair, scratching lazily at his scalp. Pulling a low moan from his throat. 

“Your hair darling, that picture proved you can rock the style, plus we know how much of a whore you can be when I do this.” I pull lightly on his hair making him gasp. 

“Don’t you think I’m too old for that style.” His breathing was ragged as he tries to remain calm. I chuckle darkly at my flustered partner, with practiced ease I spin him so I loom above him, lifting his chin with a single finger. 

“Of course, darling.” I lean down our lips graze with my words. “You’re just proof that men get finer with age.” He smiles at my words as I steal his response away with a soft kiss.  

-----

I really enjoyed writing this. I hope you enjoy reading it

[eatmyheartoutjpg]

ACCIDENTAL ;; In which you work as Silco's second-in-command and seem menacing to everyone, but you're actually a super anxious, awkward person with no fighting skills whatsoever.. but you have sheer luck!

04.04.25 Masterlist

You were second in command, one of the most feared individuals in the entire underworld of Zaun. You never asked for it. You didn’t want it. But you had it. And you had no idea how to get out of it.

It wasn’t that you didn’t know how to do your job. You did your job just fine. Or at least, that’s what everyone else thought. In reality, you had no fighting skills to speak of. Absolutely none. You had somehow earned a reputation as an exceptional bodyguard and an untouchable fighter, but that was all a misunderstanding.

The truth? You were a walking disaster.

It all started with your tendency to come off as intimidating without meaning to. You weren’t a loud person. You rarely spoke at all. In fact, when you did, your voice came out as a low, monotone hum, often so soft that people had to strain to hear you.

And yet... they feared you. Even Silco, your boss, who was terrifying in his own right, never quite seemed to know what to make of you. He trusted you completely, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that you might accidentally upset him one day.

The rest of the crew feared you too. But it wasn’t your fault. You had this... aura about you. Your tense posture, your twitching hands, the way your eyes darted around the room as if you were constantly on the verge of a panic attack—it all gave off the impression that you were a time bomb ready to go off, itching for a fight. And every time someone bumped into you or said something mildly threatening, you do in fact, get into one.

The problem? You had no idea how to fight.

Take the time you were in the middle of an argument (one sided lecture) with a local merchant who had failed to deliver a shipment on time. The guy was loud, demanding an apology from Silco himself, and you were standing in the corner and back against the wall. You wish you could be the wall so the man would stop his tangent. You really wish you could go home.

Your hands were twitching, a nervous habit you couldn’t control. The merchant sneered at you and took another step forward, pointing a jarring finger at you. He was ready to berate you face-to-face.

You wanted to back into the wall even further, your feet shuffling a couple inches backwards, but that’s when your foot slipped on the wet floor. You stumbled, pushing yourself off the wall in a panic, but your arm flung out to steady yourself—and the merchant happened to be in the way. You hit him square in the jaw with an elbow that sent him flying backward into a stack of crates. The crates toppled, and the merchant was knocked unconscious from the impact as blood began to trickle down the back of his head from hitting the crates.

You froze. Everyone in the room stared at you.

You were standing, tall and looming over a downed, bleeding man. You were silent with your hands curled into fists, you were twitching as if you wanted anyone else to try lecturing you.

It was intimidating to everyone.

Your heart pounded in your chest as you felt everyone's gaze on you.

The next thing you knew, the crew was cheering. "Good one, second in command!" someone shouted. They had no idea you had just slipped and accidentally knocked the guy out. They thought it was just your patience thinning. They thought you meant to do that out of anger and exhaustion.

Sevika, your terrifying, scarred colleague, watched the scene unfold with a raised eyebrow. “Contain yourself next time,” she reminded, You blinked, still frozen in place, not quite sure what to do.

Everyone believed you hated being talked down to, that you don't tolerate anything unless it was your boss, Silco. You only have loyalty pledged to him, not to Zaun. You were a powerhouse.

And that was the moment you realized: no one knew you couldn’t fight. Not even Sevika. Not Silco. Not Jinx.

Jinx.

She was another source of anxiety. Jinx, the unpredictable, chaotic force of nature. She loved to hang around you. You didn’t mind. You liked her in your own awkward way. She never judged you for your silence, for your strange tendency to go from zero to “fight-or-flight mode” in a matter of seconds. She just liked to talk—endlessly. And you, too scared to tell her you didn’t really want to be involved, just listened. You listened as she ranted about explosives, the latest scheme, or what color she should paint her hair next.

You were too scared to tell her to go away, so you didn’t.

“I was thinking,” Jinx said one day, practically bouncing off the walls, “that maybe we could rig the whole building to explode. I mean, not like in a bad way, but in a cool way. Like, surprise the enemies with a big kaboom!”

You nodded slowly, unable to form anything more than a soft grunt.

“That’s what I thought!” Jinx exclaimed. “You get it! I knew you’d get it, second in command! You’re so strong and smart and, like, so unstoppable!”

You winced at her words. No one knew that you were the furthest thing from unstoppable. You could barely stand up without tripping over your own feet. But instead of running away, you just stood there, nodding silently, hands twitching at your sides. Jinx didn’t seem to notice your discomfort, though. She was too caught up in her excitement.

“Don’t worry, second in command,” she said, throwing her arm around your shoulders like you were best friends. “I totally got your back!”

You wish people said your name, but then again, you don't think you could handle it.

People just called you second in command, while it could be seen as disrespect, it's actually out of acknowledgement and admiration about your prowess and status in the Undercity.

You flinched, but nodded again. It was fine. You could deal with Jinx. You could barely breathe around Sevika, but Jinx? Jinx was just... too wild to be as scary as Sevika or Silco.

And yet, somehow, her enthusiasm pushed you into even more ridiculous situations. A few days after her explosive idea, you found yourself standing in front of a rival gang’s hideout, the crew surrounding you. Sevika was giving orders, her usual growl of authority ringing through the air, but she kept glancing at you. Her face softened just a little, as if expecting you to do... something.

"Well?" she asked, crossing her arms. "You ready, second in command? We could use your 'skills' here."

Your hands twitched uncontrollably. You had no idea what you were supposed to do. A gang of armed men stood across from you, glaring in your direction. You had no idea how you were supposed to fight them. But you were standing there, shaking, trying to appear confident.

Then the unthinkable happened. You accidentally bumped into Sevika, causing her to stumble forward right into one of the gang members, knocking him out cold. Without realizing it, you grabbed a loose piece of metal from the ground and swung it in what looked like a perfectly executed defensive maneuver. The rival gang member ducked, but you barely grazed him, sending him tumbling into another. They both hit the ground with a satisfying thud.

The crew gasped. “See? Second in command is untouchable!” someone shouted.

Sevika blinked in surprise. “Not bad,” she muttered, though you could hear the underlying amusement in her tone. “Maybe I’ll have you handle the next few meetings.”

Handle the meetings? You panicked. You hadn’t planned for any of this. You didn’t know what you were doing. You just wanted to disappear back into the shadows.

As the rest of the crew celebrated, you retreated to a corner, hands twitching violently as your heart raced in your chest. You never wanted to fight again. But the more you stood there, the more people believed in you.

Eventually, Silco came over to congratulate you. “Good work. You’ve outdone yourself.”

You couldn’t help but smile nervously, the tension in your body so thick you were afraid you’d pass out. “Thank you,” you responded, hoping your trembling voice wasn’t giving you away.

“You’re an important part of this operation,” Silco said, a rare note of pride in his voice. “I’ll be counting on you even more.”

And there it was: you, second in command, trusted and relied upon by the most dangerous people in Zaun, all because of a series of mistakes and clumsy accidents. No one knew the truth—that you were just a shy, awkward mess who was constantly waiting for everything to fall apart.

But you didn’t mind. Not when they all thought you were a badass.

You just kept your head down, kept pretending to be strong. After all, who needed fighting skills when you had luck on your side?

A/N ;; This was in the drafts for 4 months.. my bad!

[jellyfishthingblog]

𖥨᩠ׄ݁ NSFW Alphabet: Silco 𖥨᩠ׄ݁

Disclaimer: This is an 18+ blog, so if you're a minor please click off! If you feel uncomfortable reading this at any point, you are more than welcome to click off too!

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Depends on who they are. If it's after hate fucking, he doesn't care too much apart from maybe making sure they aren't hurt too bad. If it's a good lover, he will make them comfortable, maybe bring you some water at the minimum.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

This man is a thigh man, if you got chub, he's into that too. Argue with the wall. He doesn't have a favourite part of himself, but will agree with whatever his partner likes about him most.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

Colour is #ECDBDD, thick and definitely not small loads, but not exactly big loads either.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Deffo has thoughts about fucking his partner out in the bar with people around.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Have you seen him when he was younger? He seemed like he would have a lot. But no, he doesn't. He maybe had up to five, but wasn't into it as he was busy with Zaun and mining.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

He wants to see their face. Mating press probably.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Serious, but will tease here and there.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Somewhat trimmed at the minimum, and of course the colour is the same as his hair.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Tease. Although, he does reassure them.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

He doesn't do it often, doesn't feel the need to. But if he's really desperate, he smells his partners clothes if he doesn't have a picture of them somewhere.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Scent. Perhaps praise too, both giving and receiving.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

The bedroom. Second favourite is his office.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Seeing his partner walk around at his base in little clothing, mostly just a robe or anything that shows their thighs.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Being degraded (I just don't see him enjoying it).

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

He doesn't mind receiving, he prefers giving. And, god, is he good at it.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Not rough, but somewhat fast.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Hates quickies unless the partner needs it.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

He wouldn't mind a little voyeurism. He's mostly vanilla, but if it's not too extreme, willing to experiment.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

He can last about 4-7 rounds, depending on the day.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

He doesn't want to use toys on himself, but would use a vibrator on his partner.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

A lot.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Grunts if topping, small whimpers if bottoming.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

Has accidentally thought about overstimulating both himself and his partner at the same time. He can't seem to take his mind off of it.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Length is 5.2in/13.2cm soft, 5.5in/13.9cm hard, uncut, slight curve upwards, two visible veins on the underside. Length is #D8AB8C, tip is #D88C96.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Not too high, he's an old man after all. Probably struggles a little bit trying to keep up with a younger person.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

He doesn't. Makes sure his partners all good before doing anything else.

Author's Note: Thank you for reading! Just a quick disclaimer, these are my headcanons, you do not have to agree with me.

[theapollochronicles]

Silco x Vastaya reader 🥺👉👈 pretty pls ty

didn’t give me much to work with but hope you enjoy! you’re one of my firsts requests :D @theberserkerwithin

𝐄𝐚𝐭 𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐠 | 𝐒𝐢𝐥𝐜𝐨

“You can't buy this fineness

Let me see the heat get to it

Let me watch the dressing start to peel

It's a kindness, Highness

Crumbs enough for everyone

Old and young are welcome to the meal,”

pairing: silco x gn!vastaya!reader

summary: silco was a promising man with a demanding position in the undercity, but he had a hard time showing his true emotions to the people around him.

warnings: teen!jinx x reader (platonic), takes place before season one, mentions of violence (if you squint), smoking, some fluff & angst.

The hum of the fish tank filled Silco’s office, blending with the quiet creak of wooden beams overhead. You leaned casually against the desk, arms crossed, while Silco sat in his chair, reviewing a pile of reports. Your cat-like ears twitched as a faint creak sounded above you—a familiar presence settling into the wooden beams that crisscrossed the ceiling, but neither of you acknowledged her yet.

“She’s been up there for the past ten minutes,” you said under your breath, glancing upward.

“I’m aware,” Silco replied without looking up from his papers. “She likes to imagine she’s invisible.”

“I am invisible!” Jinx’s voice rang out, cutting through the stillness. Her legs dangled into view from the wooden pillars above, her tone both playful and defensive.

“You’re as invisible as Sevika’s temper,” you retorted, earning a low chuckle from Silco.

Jinx groaned, leaning down further so her head peeked into view. Her light blue eyes gleamed with mischief, but there was an underlying earnestness to her gaze. “I’m observing. That’s important, right? You always say I need to pay attention.”

Silco’s pen paused mid-stroke, his mismatched eyes shifting to the girl above. “Paying attention doesn’t mean lurking, Jinx. If you have something to say, come down and say it.”

She hesitated for a moment before swinging down, landing lightly on her feet. Straightening up, she adjusted her posture, trying to appear taller, older. “I’m not a kid anymore, you know. I can handle the serious stuff.”

“You’re growing up,” you agreed, your tone gentle. “But that doesn’t mean you can skip steps. You have to earn trust if you want to take on more responsibility.”

“I can earn it,” she insisted, her voice firm but laced with vulnerability. She looked between you and Silco, seeking approval. “You and Silco trust me, don’t you?”

Silco leaned back in his chair, studying her. “Trust is not a gift, Jinx. It’s a currency. And like any currency, it must be guarded carefully. You’ve proven yourself before, but you’ve also been reckless.”

Her expression faltered briefly, but she quickly masked it with a grin. “That’s because being careful is boring. And boring doesn’t get results.”

“Recklessness doesn’t either,” you countered. “Look, you’re creative. Smarter than most people give you credit for. But you have to show them you can channel that energy the right way.”

Jinx shifted, crossing her arms. “You sound like her.”

The room fell silent at her words, the weight of the unspoken name heavy in the air.

“Vi isn’t here,” Silco said evenly, his voice a quiet warning.

“I know that!” Jinx snapped, her expression a mix of frustration and hurt. “I don’t need her! I’ve got you. I’ve got Y/N.” She turned to you, her voice softening. “Right?”

You stepped closer, crouching slightly to meet her gaze. “You have us,” you said gently. “But you don’t have to prove anything to us, Jinx. We already see how much you’ve grown.”

Her shoulders relaxed slightly, but her gaze remained determined. “I want more than that. I want everyone else to see it too.”

“They will,” you assured her. “In time.”

Silco watched the exchange in silence, his expression unreadable. Finally, he spoke, his tone measured. “If you want to be taken seriously, start by handling smaller tasks without complaint. Prove you can follow through, and I’ll consider giving you more.”

Jinx blinked, surprised, but nodded. “Okay! Deal.”

“Good.” Silco leaned forward, returning his attention to the papers on his desk. “Now go. Sevika is waiting for you.”

Jinx wrinkled her nose. “She’s so bossy.”

“She’s capable,” Silco corrected, not looking up.

Jinx muttered something under her breath but gave you a quick smile before heading for the door. As she reached it, she paused, glancing back. “Thanks, Y/N.”

“Always,” you said with a small smile.

Once the door closed behind her, the room fell quiet again. Your ears straightened, turning to face Silco.

“You were a bit soft on her,” you teased lightly, crossing your arms.

“She’s determined to grow up too quickly,” he said simply, though his voice softened just slightly. “I won’t push her, but I also won’t let her stay a child forever.”

“She doesn’t have to stay a child,” you replied, moving to lean against the desk again. “But she needs to feel safe enough to grow.”

Silco didn’t respond, but his gaze lingered on you for a long moment before he returned to his work, the faintest smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

The air in the Chem-Barons’ meeting room was heavy with tension and smoke. Silco sat at the head of the table, his usual composed demeanor a stark contrast to the chaotic personalities around him. You stood to his left, leaning casually against the wall with your arms crossed, your large, cat-like ears twitching occasionally as you listened to the barons’ chatter. Sevika stood on Silco’s other side, her imposing figure a silent warning to anyone who might think to challenge him.

The Chem-Barons discussed logistics, turf disputes, and shipments of shimmer, but the underlying current of mistrust was palpable.

“I’ve got to ask, Silco,” Finn finally spoke, leaning back in his chair with an exaggerated smirk. His tone was as casual as his words were calculated. “Why bring your lackeys here?” He gestured lazily at you and Sevika. “Do you need them to hold your hand, or are you just showing off?”

The room fell silent. Sevika’s jaw tightened, her cybernetic arm whirring faintly as her fingers flexed. Your ears flicked toward Finn, though you didn’t move from your spot against the wall.

Silco didn’t respond immediately. He leaned back in his chair, tapping his fingers rhythmically against the armrest as his mismatched eyes fixed on Finn.

“Careful, Finn,” he said at last, his voice calm but laced with venom. “You’re beginning to sound like someone who thinks they’re irreplaceable.”

Finn chuckled, clearly trying to play off the tension. “Oh, come on. I’m just saying, it’s interesting, isn’t it? You trust them enough to bring them into our space, but not enough to speak for themselves.”

Before Sevika could step forward, you placed a hand on her shoulder, a silent gesture to keep her in check. Your sharp gaze locked onto Finn, your cat-like eyes narrowing.

“They don’t speak because they don’t need to,” Silco said, his voice dropping to a dangerous low. “When they act, they leave no room for discussion. You’d do well to remember that, Finn.”

Finn’s smirk faltered, the weight of Silco’s words settling over the room.

“Let’s move on,” Silco said curtly, dismissing the conversation and returning his focus to the papers in front of him.

The rest of the meeting continued without further incident, though the tension remained thick in the air.

Later, back at the Last Drop, the silence in Silco’s office was almost deafening. You leaned against his desk, arms crossed, watching him as he stood by the fish tank, the dim light casting long shadows across the room.

“Finn shouldn’t have tried anything,” Silco said suddenly, breaking the silence. His voice was quiet, but there was an edge to it that you recognized all too well. “The man has a penchant for testing boundaries, but that was… reckless.”

You tilted your head slightly, your ears flicking as you regarded him. “You handled it.”

“Not as much as I wanted to,” he admitted, turning to face you. “I could’ve said worse. Should’ve, perhaps. But meetings like that require… restraint.” He spat the last word like it was poison.

You smirked faintly, the tip of your tail curling as you watched him pace. “That restraint is what keeps the Chem-Barons in line. Finn likes to provoke, but he doesn’t understand the cost of pushing too far. You do.”

Silco stopped pacing, his gaze settling on you. For a moment, the tension in his shoulders eased, and the sharpness in his expression softened just slightly. “And yet, I find myself tempted to forget that cost when it comes to you.”

The admission hung in the air, heavier than the silence that followed. You blinked, your ears lowering slightly as you processed his words.

“I can take care of myself, you know,” you said, your voice softer now.

“I know,” he replied, his tone uncharacteristically warm. His gaze flickered to your ears, his mismatched eyes briefly betraying something deeper. “But I won’t tolerate anyone disrespecting what’s mine.”

The room seemed smaller in that moment, the space between you shrinking despite neither of you moving. You held his gaze, your tail flicking absently.

“Yours, huh?” you said lightly, trying to cut the tension.

He smirked, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “In every way that matters.”

You allowed yourself a small smile, stepping away from the desk and brushing past him toward the door. “Good thing I don’t need you to fight my battles. But… I don’t mind you trying.”

His gaze lingered on you as you left the room, the faintest trace of a smile on his lips. Once the door clicked shut behind you, Silco returned to his desk, his composure restored, though his thoughts remained far from the shimmer trade.

[ethnicallymoral]

Help me find it pls

there was a really hot Silco fanfic where a piltie girl takes him on a tour through an art museum. she can’t focus because she’s so flustered by him. he takes her to the bathroom and uh, keeps the gloves on, saying that he’s surprised she’d let him fuck her in this way, never had a piltie before, etc. then he takes her to dinner.

Feel free to reply with ANY fanfics of Silco keeping his gloves on, though. #needthat