#silco/reader

[beskars]

undisclosed desires; a silco x reader fic

rating: explicit word count: 3.7k warnings: shameless smut, porn without plot, jealousy, resolved sexual tension, dirty talk, oral sex (fem receiving), possessiveness, subby silco if you squint, 'good girl' + other pet names. no use of y/n [ao3]

“Is that what you wanted?” he questioned, his voice dropping lower as he crowded you against his office door, “To make me watch while you let that worthless nobody touch what’s mine?”

The admission hung in the air between you as his gaze burned into you, demanding an answer.

“Yours?” you challenged softly, “that’s interesting, considering how deliberately you’ve been pushing me away all this time.”

He reached for you then, his hand dropping to his side before it found you, clenching into a fist.

“Pushing you away?” he murmured, a short, bitter laugh punctuating his response. “No. On the contrary, I have let you get closer—far closer than I ever should have. Do you have any idea how hard I’ve fought to maintain what precious distance I am able to keep from you?”

undisclosed desires

You’d chosen your outfit for the evening carefully, selecting an ensemble that would draw his attention without being too obvious in its intention. A part of you felt slightly embarrassed that you’d resorted to such measures, but after months of subtle attempts to convey how you felt about him had been met with that same practiced distance he maintained with everyone, you had grown almost desperate in your need to provoke a reaction from him. Even contempt would be better than indifference.

The Last Drop was crowded tonight, the thrumming bassline vibrating the floor beneath your boots as you wove through a mass of bodies to position yourself just below the balcony he often occupied. You resisted the urge to look up, but you could feel his presence — could picture him standing there, hands folded behind his back as he surveyed the scene below. How many times you had stood beside him, the distance between you a fathomless chasm, cataloguing the elegant lines of his profile. Hoping he wouldn’t catch you staring. Hoping even more that he would.

There was nothing especially memorable about the man who approached you, though he was handsome enough in a plain way. What he lacked in looks he made up for in enthusiasm, eagerly drawing your back against his chest as you undulated to the pulse of the music. His hands gripped your waist, pulling you even closer, and you tried to ignore that the shape of them was all wrong, the fingers too broad as they dug into your skin. Nothing like the fine-boned hands of the man watching you from above, whose stare was now too heavy to ignore. 

Tipping your head back against the shoulder of your nameless partner, you caught a groan escape from his lips as you rolled your hips back.

“Fuck, you’re so hot,” the man breathed out, and you forced a smile, willing yourself to keep up the false display for your audience of one. 

Unable to stop yourself from glancing up, you caught sight of Silco’s jaw tightening for the briefest of moments before his usual placid expression slid back into place. He held your gaze for a beat, his face betraying nothing, before he turned and strode in the direction of his office, disappearing from your line of vision. You tried to swallow around the lump in your throat, but found yourself unable to, suddenly suffocated by the closeness of the man behind you and the heat of his breath on your neck. 

“I’ll be right back,” you told him, disentangling yourself before he could ask where you were going, pushing through the crowd toward the bar. 

You were stopped in your tracks by one of Silco’s employees, his hand wrapping around your bicep firmly but carefully as he guided you through the club.

“You’re wanted upstairs,” he said by way of explanation, only relinquishing his grip once you reached the bottom of the steps. 

The walk to his office felt longer than usual, anticipation and dread building in equal measure with each stride you took. He was standing at the window when you entered, the angularity of his face thrown into even deeper contrast by the sickly glow of the city lights behind him. He was silent for several long moments, giving you ample time to take in the rigidity of his posture, the displeasure pulling down the corners of his mouth.

“Would you care to explain,” he began, a dangerous edge to his silky voice, “what little game you think you’re playing?”

“I’m not sure how what I do in my free time is any of your concern,” you replied, watching his features go taut at your insolence.

“No?” he asked, moving toward you with a predatory grace that made you shiver. “Then perhaps you’d like to explain why you were watching so closely for my reaction when that man had his hands all over you.”

Your pulse quickened as he all but closed the distance between you, fighting to maintain your defiant expression.

“Maybe I wanted you to watch,” you told him, the words slipping out before you could trap them behind your teeth.

“Is that what you wanted?” he questioned, his voice dropping lower as he crowded you against his office door, “To make me watch while you let that worthless nobody touch what’s mine?”

The admission hung in the air between you as his gaze burned into you, demanding an answer.

“Yours?” you challenged softly, “that’s interesting, considering how deliberately you’ve been pushing me away all this time.”

He reached for you then, his hand dropping to his side before it found you, clenching into a fist.

“Pushing you away?” he murmured, a short, bitter laugh punctuating his response. “No. On the contrary, I have let you get closer—far closer than I ever should have. Do you have any idea how hard I’ve fought to maintain what precious distance I am able to keep from you?”

“No, I don’t,” you snapped, unable to keep the hurt from seeping into your voice. “It doesn’t seem to be hard for you at all.”

He let out an uncharacteristically frustrated exhalation, his good eye fluttering closed.

“Then know this,” he said, his gaze snapping back to yours, “I have lain awake every night for months , replaying every single touch, every lingering glance you’ve given me. I have spent so long trying to convince myself that keeping you at arms length was the right choice, the rational choice, only for my resolve to crumble within seconds of being in your presence.”

Your breath caught, heart beating wildly in your chest as you watched him.

“If that’s how you feel, then why—” you started.

“Because everyone I allow close becomes a weakness,” he gritted out, “because watching you dance with that man tonight made me want to tear him apart with my bare hands. Because the way you make me feel, the things you make me want—that loss of control will be my undoing. You will be my undoing—”

He stopped, seemingly struggling for words, before reaching for you, his hands cradling your face tenderly even as his lips met yours with bruising intensity.

“Tell me what I make you want,” you whispered against his mouth when you finally broke apart, your fingers threading through the hair at the nape of his neck.

“Everything,” he admitted roughly, pressing a kiss to your jaw. “Anything you’ll give me.”

“Silco,” you breathed, reveling in the almost pained groan he let out against your skin, “it’s all yours. I’m all yours, have been for so long—”

He drew back to look at you, his composure beautifully disheveled, chest rising and falling rapidly as he caged you against the door within his arms.

“Do you have any idea what it did to me,” he murmured, “watching you touch him like that? Knowing you were doing it to deliberately provoke me?”

His fingers found your waist as he bowed his forehead against yours, silent for a moment as he attempted to steady himself.

“I could see it in every movement,” he continued, “the way you glanced up, hoping I was watching— knowing I was watching—”

“Yes,” you admitted quietly, “I just wanted to know you felt something for me, anything—”

“I feel everything for you,” he told you, the words scraped from somewhere deep within him as he clutched at you tighter, “every moment of the day, wanting you, needing you…”

He trailed off, his hands slipping beneath the revealing top you’d chosen so carefully, his thumbs tracing possessive patterns against your sternum. 

“And then you show up here, dressed like this…” he paused, his eye fluttering closed as you shivered beneath his touch, “knowing exactly what you’re doing to my control, knowing I couldn’t bear the sight of someone else touching you like this—”

You hummed in agreement, arching into the warmth of his hands.

“Yes,” you whispered, “wanted you to stop being so fucking careful and just give in.”

Tilting your head, you pressed an open-mouthed kiss to the side of his neck, inhaling the scent of cardamom and tobacco, tasting the salt of his skin.

“Fuck,” he exhaled, the uncharacteristic loss of eloquence causing scintillas of heat to race up your spine. “Getting exactly what you wanted, aren’t you?”

You nodded, trailing kisses down the column of his throat until you were hindered by his shirt collar, letting out a frustrated sound as you tried to undo his tie with trembling fingers. 

“I shouldn’t reward such behavior,” he told you darkly, “shouldn’t give in to you like this when you behaved so wickedly downstairs, making me watch the way you pressed against him like he was the one you wanted—”

His hands stilled and you whimpered in protest, cupping his jaw desperately. 

“You’re the only one I want,” you promised, pressing a kiss to his lips before continuing, “the only one I’ve ever wanted like this. Gods, if you knew the things I think about you…”

You trailed off, tracing his lower lip with your thumb, heart fluttering as he kissed the tip of it with unexpected tenderness.

“Tell me,” he commanded, his hands continuing their exploration of your torso, leaving your skin flushed and aching in his wake. “Make me believe you want this as badly as I do.”

Drawing in an unsteady breath, you leaned into him, your breath fluttering against his ear.

“I’ve lain awake at night thinking of you, too,” you whispered, a heat rising in your cheeks as you continued, “imagining us here, in your office, sitting on your desk while you kiss me, your hand between my legs so you can feel how wet I am for you…”

“Fuck,” he breathed out, his voice hoarse with desire, clutching at your hips.

“Pretending my hands are yours while I touch myself,” you went on, tracing the shell of his ear with your tongue, “not letting myself come until I imagine you giving me permission to—”

He sucked in a breath at your admission, turning his head to capture your lips in a dizzying kiss.

“The mouth on you, sweetheart—” he choked out, “saying things that make me want to—”

“To what?” you challenged, watching his control unravel bit by bit, “show me. Show me exactly what I make you want. Show me who I belong to.”

With that, his composure finally snapped, his mouth claiming yours in fierce, possessive kisses as he pushed your top up before finally lifting it over your head and discarding it.

“Mine,” he murmured, kissing his way down your neck, licking into the hollow of your throat as your fingers carded through his hair. “Mine to touch. Mine to taste. Only mine.”

“Silco,” you keened, clutching just tightly enough for him to exhale shakily against your stomach. 

Dropping to his knees, his hands skated down your sides to stop at your waist, holding you exactly where the stranger had earlier. 

“Mark me,” you begged, unable to stop yourself. “Make me forget anyone else has ever touched me, please—”

Letting out a quiet, desperate curse, he acquiesced, pressing heated kisses to your skin, erasing the memory of each point of contact from earlier with his mouth. He glanced up at you, a question in his gaze, and you nodded, gasping as his teeth sank into sensitive flesh. Each mark he placed was careful, deliberate, his tongue tenderly laving each bruise before he moved on, leaving you a trembling mess. 

“Perfect,” he breathed, leaning back on his heels to admire his work, his fingertips tracing the blooms on your skin. “You’re so perfect like this, so beautiful.”

You barely had time to bask in the adoration in his voice before he was reaching for your remaining clothes, hesitating at your zipper as if waiting for permission before you urged him on with a whispered plea. With painstaking slowness he dragged the garments down your legs until you could step out of them, kicking them to the side to join the rest of your outfit. Silently, reverently, he lifted one of your legs to hitch it over his shoulder, turning to the side to press a line of kisses to the inside of your thigh.

“Tell me you want this,” he urged you, looking up pleadingly. “Tell me I can have you—”

You nodded frantically, nearly sobbing with need.

“You can have me,” you babbled hoarsely, “you can have all of me, I’m yours, only yours—have been for so long—”

He let out a gratified curse, leaning forward and engulfing you in the heat of his mouth, moaning at the taste of the arousal gathered there. Your hips jolted forward at the contact, and you let out a soft cry as his tongue flattened against your clit. The sound seemed to bring him back to himself, pulling away and getting to his feet even as you whimpered in protest at the loss of his touch.

“Need you in my bed,” he told you, grabbing your waist and drawing you flush against him, “need to know that I’m the only one who gets to hear those pretty little sounds you’re making.”

His hand slipped between your legs, fingertips brushing against you teasingly before he covered your mouth with his, swallowing your moan. He walked you into his bedroom, his thumb tracing achingly light patterns against your clit all the while, stopping only to lock the door behind him. It was quieter here, the pounding bassline of the club a dull muffle beneath your feet as you watched him, your trembling breath audible above the faint music. When he reached for you again, you caught his wrist, giving a single shake of your head.

“Get undressed,” you said, somewhere between a request and a demand, and he halted momentarily, a vulnerable look flashing across his face. “Please,” you added, finding the fastenings of his vest, “let me see you.”

He nodded, his hands covering yours as you started on his tie, gently guiding your movements until you could pull it from his collar and let it drop to the floor, where it was soon joined by his vest. Slowly, deliberately, you began undoing the buttons of his shirt, covering every inch of skin in kisses as it was revealed to you. A tremor ran through him as you pressed a kiss to his sternum before taking a step back, pushing his shirt open to expose the lean, elegant lines of his torso. 

“Gorgeous,” you breathed out, reveling in the sight of the corded muscles of his forearms, the map of silvery scars that adorned the left side of his body, the tributary of dark hair that began beneath his navel and disappeared into his waistband.

You circled him slowly, your hand anchored on his narrow waist, leaning up to whisper in his ear.

“Do you have any idea how beautiful you are?” you asked, inhaling the scent of spiced cologne and pomade mixed with the lingering cigar smoke that clung to his skin. “How perfect?”

He didn’t answer but you felt him shiver as you placed a tender kiss between his sharp shoulder blades, your hand slipping down into the front of his trousers. 

“Take these off for me,” you murmured, kissing the nape of his neck once before he acquiesced, shucking off the remainder of his clothes and turning to face you. 

Cupping your jaw in his hands, he kissed you slowly, licking into your mouth as the warmth of his skin seeped into you, stoking your burning need into an inferno.

“Silco,” you pleaded against his lips, arching into him.

“Say it again,” he commanded, walking you backwards toward his bed, lifting you onto the edge of the mattress and fitting a hand back between your legs.

You obliged, watching his face transform with something like wonder.

“Again,” he breathed against your mouth, his fingertips sliding through your slick heat as you shifted beneath him, desperate for more. “Keep saying it. Let me hear how my name sounds when you’re completely undone.”

You bit back a sob as one of his fingers sunk into you, his thumb drawing insistent circles against your clit.

“Silco–” you cried out, an incoherent mixture of curses and pleas falling from your lips as a second finger joined the first, beckoning at something deep within you. 

Kneeling beside the bed, he bowed his head between your thighs as if in prayer, his tongue replacing his thumb, licking at the most sensitive part of you as you clenched around him. His moans vibrated against your core as he devoured you, letting out soft sounds of need that seemed beyond his control to contain. When your fingers tangled in his hair, tugging him even closer, his efforts intensified, each touch intent on making you fall apart for him. 

“Baby, please—” you gasped, the endearment earning a desperate groan from him, his gaze lifting up to meet yours. “Don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t stop—” you urged, a telling heat creeping up your chest as you felt yourself go taut. 

When you came with his name on your lips, he made a sound that was almost broken with need, working you through it slowly and methodically, pressing soft kisses to your aching flesh. Overwhelmed, you stifled a sob into the back of your hand, squeezing your eyes shut as tears began to well up. In an instant, he was there, wiping the salt from your skin with his thumbs, capturing your cries in his mouth.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured soothingly, “so perfect. The way you look when you fall apart for me…the sounds you make…the way you taste—” he broke off, bringing his fingers to his mouth to suck them clean of your arousal. 

“Fuck,” you whimpered, the ache between your legs already returning as you watched him, “come here, please—wanna feel you, all of you—”

Pushing yourself back to make room for him, you pulled him down beside you, gasping as he slotted his thigh between your legs, giving you something to grind down on as he kissed you.

“That’s right,” he murmured approvingly against your mouth, “take what you need, sweetheart.”

He pulled back slightly, groaning at the sight of you undulating against him, before looking back at you, a possessiveness in his gaze that made you tremble. His thigh flexed against your sensitive flesh and you whined, leaning into his touch as he cupped your face with one hand. The pad of his thumb traced your lower lip, and you opened for him instinctively, moaning as he pressed down on your tongue.

“Oh, good girl,” he praised softly, the words pulling a muffled whimper from deep within you as you ground your hips against him, seeking the friction you needed to ease the throb between your legs. 

It was too much and not enough all at once, the feeling of him everywhere but where you desired him most. Carefully, you shifted your positions so that you were straddling him as he pushed himself back against the pillows. As he pulled his thumb from between your lips, you caught his wrist, pressing a tender kiss to his palm before pinning both his wrists over his head. 

“What are you doing?” he asked, shifting beneath you as you bent down to kiss him.

“Taking what I need,” you whispered in response, sinking down onto him inch by inch, so full of him it forced the air from your lungs.

“Fuck,” he gritted out, throwing his head back, exposing the column of his throat as you began to move. “Gods, you feel perfect. Like you were fucking made for me—”

“I was,” you murmured, slowly circling your hips down as you pressed open-mouthed kisses along his sharp jawline. 

He arched up into you, breathing out your name with a reverence that made your heart stutter.

“Let me touch you,” he begged, whining in protest when you shook your head and adding, “ please—”

“Not yet,” you told him, “I want you like this a while longer. You look so fucking perfect like this,” you continued, and though he let out a frustrated curse, he relented, his hands unclenching from where you had bound them over his head. 

You slowed your movements, watching as he surrendered to you, a beautiful flush rising in his chest. His lips were kiss-swollen and indented where he had worried at them with his teeth, errant locks of dark hair falling across his forehead, every shred of his usual composure gone. In its place was Silco as only you would ever see him, completely and utterly wrecked, gazing up at you with unabashed devotion.

“So good for me,” you praised, delighting in the shiver that ran through him at your words. “Making me feel so fucking good—”

He let out a sharp exhalation, straining against you once more.

“I can make it even better for you,” he gasped, “just let me touch you, I’ll make it so fucking good for you, please— please let me touch you—”

Your resolve crumbled. 

“Yes,” you breathed, relinquishing your hold on him, “touch me—”

He complied without a moment’s hesitation, one hand reaching for the place where your bodies met, the other curling around your hip, both working in tandem to bring you closer to the edge.

“Silco, Silco, Silco,” you whimpered, any semblance of coherent speech now gone, his name the only word you could conjure. 

“That’s it,” he murmured, his brow furrowed intently, focused entirely on your pleasure, “just like that. Let go for me.”

With one last cry of his name, you did. Trembling, you grabbed his hand as he slowly withdrew it from between your thighs, interlacing your fingers with his as he sought his own release. When he came, your name a broken plea on his lips, you brought his knuckles to your mouth, softly kissing each one before bending down to rest your forehead against his. You stayed there a moment, listening as his breathing slowed before pressing a gentle kiss to his lips and whispering,

“Yours.”

You felt his mouth curve into a small smile as he repeated the word back to you.

“Yours.”

[kaminocasey]

Hey! I'm gonna take advantage of your charity and incredible talent and ask me some Silco stuff, and I will make it very personal.

Im just a sucker for angsty fluff, so I was thinking something in the lines of reader works either in some restaurant where Silco goes or actually works in the last drop. And she's just having a rough couple of days and Silco finds out about it and just wants to help (maybe he gets frustrated because of it all, and goes all Silco, you know what I mean? Damn I'm gonna shut up now). But we all know Silco is not the most affectionate man, or at least shows it in weird (?) ways. I feel like it would be better (?) if they didn't have a relationship yet. But I'll leave it to your brilliance to do as you please, I have complete trust in your skills.

But remember, you don't have to do this if you don't feel like it of course.

Anyway, to much information already. So good luck, love your work, that brain of yours and you in general ❤️💙💛🤍

PS- do not allow me to make more requests, I will make them long, weird and I'll keep remembering more stuff to add and the next thing you know it's a full blown fic 🤣

Take All Your Sins

A/N: Thank you so much for your request, love!!! I was excited to do this one!!! This is going to be a two parter or MORE for SURE. <3 ilysm thank you again for your trust in me!!!

Summary: You work in the Last Drop and very close to Vander. What happens if Silco comes along and ruins that?

Pairing: Silco x Reader

WC: 1.4k

Warnings: Angst, sweet Silco, protective Vander, alcohol

Taglist Form | Arcane Masterlist

“If you have something else to do, I can finish those.” You come into the doorway of the kitchen, nodding toward the dishes that he’s doing. 

“I got ‘em. Almost done.” The older man smiles at you.

A few years ago, Vander gave you a place to stay when he found you out on the streets and ever since then, you were basically inseparable. His kids were like your own. 

“Rough night, huh?” Vander asks as you lean in the doorway, keeping an eye on the place in case more patrons came in. 

The Last Drop is usually busy this time of night, especially on this day of the week. But it’s like a ghost town right now and you can’t seem to figure out why.

“Rough week.” You sigh, crossing your arms. 

“Do you need a couple days off?” Vander asks, genuinely.

He always made sure you were taken care of, which you appreciate, but sometimes it feels like he does too much for others, and never lets anyone do anything for him. You’re bound to change that though. His birthday is coming up and you’ve been saving up for something special that will be from you and the kids. 

“Nah, I’m-” You start but hear the door open.

“You got it?” Vander asks and you nod with a grin and turn around to greet the customer, letting the kitchen door swing shut.

“What can I get ya?” You smile at the older man, who makes you do a subtle double take.

“Whiskey. Neat, please.” He smiles. 

He’s got dark hair, a partially scarred face, one blue eye and the other dark black with an orange iris that makes him look incredibly menacing. He’s wearing an open, fancy peacoat with a buttoned vest and tie. Who the hell is this guy?

His eyes rake over you as you approach the bar where he sits. 

“Haven’t seen you before.” You smile, politely. 

“I don’t get out much.” He takes his coat off and sits it down on the stool next to him. “I… work a lot.” 

His voice is silky and you can’t help but want to hear him say more. 

“What do you do?” You ask as you pour his drink. 

“I own my own business.” He tells you and takes the drink when you slide it to him. 

The way he says it, makes you think he doesn’t want to answer anymore questions about himself. 

“What’s your name?” He asks softly. 

You tell him and he takes a sip, keeping his blue eye on you. You smile softly, unsure of what to say.

“Pretty name.” He tells you, after he finishes off his drink. 

You go to pour him another but he puts his hand over his drink and shakes his head.

“Thanks.” You put the bottle back down and then take the empty glass from him, sitting it in the sink. “What’s yours?” 

“Silco. Do you like working here?” He asks, not missing a beat. 

You nod. “Yeah, I do.” 

“And you like Vander?” 

You nod. “Who doesn’t?” 

He chuckles, glancing around subtly. “Who doesn’t, indeed?”

“What are you doing after work?” He asks. 

Oh… of course. He thinks you’re going to put out- 

“I’m not trying to fuck you.” He tells you, as if he can read your mind while he stands up and puts his coat back on.

“You’re not?” You narrow your eyes at him.

“I mean, I wouldn’t say no if you wanted to, but that’s not why I asked.” He smirks.

You both stare at each other for a moment. His eyes fall to your lips before coming back up to your eyes.

“So… the real reason is?” You cross your arms.

“I think you’re beautiful and I’ve not been on a proper date in years.” Silco shrugs, placing a hand on the back of the barstool. 

You go warm in the face before looking down at his slender fingers and immediately can’t help but wonder what they’d feel like inside-

“I’ll be by at 11.” He tells you, snapping your thoughts back to the present as he places a few cogs onto the bar. 

“Um. Alright.” You nod, giving a kind smile. 

He stares at you for another short moment before giving you a smile back and then leaving. Just as the door closes, Vander walks out and sees you staring at the door, breaking you out of the trance that Silco seemed to have put you in.

“Everything okay?” He asks, placing a hand on your shoulder.

You look up at him, smiling a little dreamily. It’s not something you’re used to. Normally, when customers ask you out, you brush them off and pay them no mind. But Silco… he managed to get you to pay attention. 

“All good. Um… I have a date after work.” You go warm in the face at the word ‘date’. 

It’s not like you don’t date… you do… just not consistently. The last date you went on was a year ago. It didn’t go well so you decided to just focus on work.

“With the customer that just came in? Who is he?” Vander’s eyebrows raise in surprise, knowing that you haven’t gone out with someone in a long time.

“Just… some guy.” You shrug, starting to wipe down the bar. 

Vander chuckles. “Alright. Keep your secrets. I was young once, too.”

You laugh with him, your thoughts immediately going back to Silco’s unmatching eyes and the way they softened at the sight of you. 

“You can go get ready if you want. I can finish here.” Vander smirks. 

You roll your eyes. “Thanks. I owe you.” 

“Nah. Get outta here.” He nods toward the door that leads to the upstairs. 

You pat him on the shoulder as you walk past him, heading upstairs to go shower. You look at the clock and see that it reads 9:30. That should give you plenty of time to get ready. You don’t take particularly long showers. 

As you turn on the water, you climb into the shower, letting the water flow over your body as you stand there for a moment before starting to wash your body and hair. You still can’t stop thinking about the older man. He had to be about Vander’s age, right? You wonder if they know each other. Perhaps after you get to know Silco a little more, you’ll introduce them. 

After your shower, you dry your hair the best you can and then settle on a dress that you’d saved up forever to buy just because. What better excuse to wear it than on a date with an extremely attractive, slightly intimidating, man? 

At ten til 11, you make your way back down to the bar. Vander and Benzo both let out a whistle at the sight of you.

“Don’t you clean up nice?” Vander grins. 

You shrug, going warm in the face from the attention. “I guess.” 

You sit up on the bar stool next to Benzo. You glance over at the door and then back at Vander. 

“Do you want something to loosen your nerves?” Vander teases. 

“I’m alright, thanks.” You roll your eyes, amused.

“Who’s this hot date with?” Benzo nudges you with his elbow. 

You go warm in the face all over again, thinking about Silco. “Just some older guy… he’ll be here any minute.” 

They accept that answer and continue their conversation from before about business stuff that you don’t really mind yourself with. You pretty much just show up and do your job and do exactly what Vander tells you to do and then go back upstairs and sleep. And then repeat. 

The door opens moments later, and the three of you look up to find Silco walking in. You can’t help but give him a sweet smile. He smirks at you and pauses by the door.

“Are you ready-” He starts.

“Silco.” Vander growls. 

“Hello, Vander.” Silco’s eyes fall past you to the man behind you. “Lovely establishment you have here.”

You turn to Vander, confused. “You know each other?”

“Oh yes, we do.” Silco walks toward you, wrapping an arm around your lower back, looking you up and down. “You look beautiful, darling.” 

“She’s not going anywhere with you.” Vander comes around the bar and starts toward Silco but Benzo gets up quickly from the stool and stops him. 

You look between Silco and Vander, still confused.

“I think that’s for her to decide.” Silco smirks up at Vander who stands almost a foot above him.

You turn to Vander, with furrowed brows. This man is the one who gave you life again, the man who is like a father to you. The man you owe your life to. If he says you shouldn’t go… then shouldn’t you listen to him?

[oceansssblue]

Silco x Male Reader, Silco hires him as a bar assistant, after a while he can't imagine life without him

Not a lot of Silco x male character out there, so happy to do this request! Mentions of reader having "messy" hair and big eyes (otherwise neutral). This is just a little cute one!

Xx, Blue.

"EXTRA ICE" – SILCO/MALE READER 💖

WARNINGS: mentions of poverty and alcohol. this one is mainly fluffy.

It's winter. It should be cold as fuck this far down the Underground; and yet, the green, toxic fumes makes the air feel warm and charged.

You try to take the minimum breaths necessary while you walk through this part of Zaun. You've got your bandana drapped over your nose and mouth, knot tightened up at the base of your head. Though you're aware it won't save you from one type of lung afliction or another in the long run, you'd like to delay it as much as possible. You'd like the chance of growing old.

The Last Drop feels almost as a relief by now. The floors are somewhat sticky, the wooden countertop and the few chairs scarced around creak an old tune, and every once in a while a few unsavory incidents happen here and there; but with Silco's goons around it's a safe place as any, and the work brings you money –more than you've ever earned in the Underground–.

You're used to the rutine by now. You've been working as a bartender in The Drop for a year now; quickly adjusting to your new job without flinching, knowing this kind of oportunity only comes once in a while. You'd ducked your face down, focusing on the cleaning-serving drinks part of the job and ignoring the rumours and fights that seemed to become inherent to the place. It's not your business –rather Silco's–, and you better not get involved in that. For your sake.

You serve drink after drink for hours with little rest. Your own throat feels dehidrated; your hands are stinging with the effort of too many glasses cleaned, skin raw. It's almost sunset; almost time to make the finest whisky with extra ice.

You shoot more tired smiles and toss comments here and there and signal Thieram you're going up after a while. He nods and you leave him at the bar, making your way through the stairs onto the second floor. The private one. Silco's.

The guards outside don't even bother asking and they step aside. They know your rutine by now as well.

You step inside, humming lost in thoughts at the sight of small scraps of metal and wood scarced inf the floor by the sofa. Looks like Jinx has been entertaining herself here. Between that and the hundred things on Silco's desk, the place is a bit of a mess.

You set things into order in a handfull of minutes. You organize Jinx's stuff into neat piles, depending on the material or it's function, putting everything in a box and leaving it back in the floor for her. You take special caution with the desk; making sure no paper is altered in its order and just cleaning a bit around. You make space for the alcohol; and you make your way down again with two empty glasses in hand and a bag of garbage to get rid off.

You give Thieram a pat on the shoulder to let him know you're back and get back to bartending. Your individual private task of the day is done, and soon, you'll be heading home.

You welcome the night with a big, tired smile on your face. Your hands and lower back hurt, your mouth feels dry and you're plainly exhausted. Your stomach has been making noises for quite a while too; reminding you that you can't go on and on without eating something. Gaining some strength back.

The bar is almost empty by now; just a few regulars lingering around. Thieram is the one tasked with closing this month, though; so you say your goodbye and walk out of The Drop.

It's nice to breathe "fresh" air now, after hours spent inside the bar. You close your eyes and take a few seconds to relax.

The voice by your side almost makes you jump.

After a stressfull afternoon –he never would have guessed being a crime lord would mean dealing with this many problems– Silco's hair is untidy, just like the way he left his desk. His desk is surprisingly organised and clean now, though; which can only mean the new bartender had been here.

Silco calls him "new" in his head because he's still not used to him. He's still searching for him every time he enteres the room as if it were the first day. He still finds himself surprised when he sees he's still there, soldiering through the long hours and the dirty fights and the dangerous stories. He had given him a month max.

Yet, you had done everything right. You didn't complain, didn't pry, just sid your job precisely like you should and left. On and on and on for daya that turned into weeks that turned into months. At some point, you had started to do all this little –but heartwarming– details for him –the organising, cleaning, bringing something to eat, or even things for Jinx to built with–; and now... Now it was not "new", because Silco had definitly grown used to them, but not to his feelings for you.

You were a simple guy. And perhaps that was what made you special; you hold no lies, he felt safe around you, no need to pretend or shield himself. No more than he did unconsciously, at least. Although you could hold yourself on a fight –he had watched that unfortunate incident happen twice–, you weren't violent, or cruel, or any of the things most of the zaunites had been forced to fall in shape with. You weren't naive, but you were... That, normal. A good guy with a good heart and just the necessary touch of Underground sharpness.

Silco blows the smoke of his cigar away, studying the way you close your eyes and drop your head back to close your eyes at the –very far away– sky. You seem relieved now that the day is over; probably glad to be able to go back home and get some well deserved rest. Silco knows where you live –too close to the Lanes to his liking–; it's still quite of a walk from here.

He doesn't want you to go yet.

"How do you memorize every single order?" He asks, hiding his amused smile at the way your body tenses in surprise, at how your big eyes widen even further.

"Shit, you scared me boss" you chuckles, bringing a hand to your chest and shooting him a bright smile –is someone ever that happy to see him, besides Jinx?–. "I give funny names to the patreons, so it's easier to associate it with their drink".

You don't seem to be too fased to know that this question means Silco has been watching you. Paying attention.

Silco wonders if you like that attention.

"For example" you continue. "The old guy with the gap between his teeth?"

Silco nods quietly, and you grin proudly.

"I call him Whistle".

The way you proclaim it almost makes Silco laugh, but instead, he smiles. A side one, a small tug of the corner of his lips that seem to make you even prouder.

You chuckle and shake your head, making the mess of your hair even messier. He likes that about you too, the way each strand seem to follow it's own direction. It's kind of endearing, he thinks. He has never told you anything similar.

"What did you name me to remember my order, then?" he asks, somewhat curious, yet somehow fearing the answer.

You take a few seconds too long to respond, which makes Silco think it is nothing but a lie.

"I didn't... You're the boss, and whisky is pretty simple to remember, so..." you shrug, smiling hesitantly.

Silco can see through your nervousness easily.

"I sugest you try again, with the truth this time" he gives him another chance, taking another breath from his cigar.

You sigh in defeat, smiling apologetically.

"I, uh... Icy Fire. You know, because of the extra ice to your whisky and..."

"The red eye" Silco ends for him.

You must interpret his silence for discomfort or anger, because you quickly jump to excuse yourself.

"I promiss yours is not a mocking name though, boss! I actually like the dual eye thing, you know..."

"Ah, you do..."

He could stop you now, but it's fun to watch you squirm.

"Yeah, yes, I mean, it's kinda' scary but hot at the same time" you blurt out, insisting inmediately, just before realising what exactly have you said out loud.

Silco chuckles this time, he can't help it. The wide eye expresion on your face... Priceless.

"Tell me" he takes a few steps towards you, before you're able to try to make your way out of it. "Is it just the eye you find hot about your boss?"

Your jaw drops, probably not expecting the seductive tone on his voice, the intention hiding beneath it. You doubt, not sure if you want a real answer or if this is all a joke, a way of having a laugh at your comment. You answer, however, if still unsure.

"I, uh... Nah, boss, your fine all around".

This time Silco is the one surprised. He hadn't expected you to give in; to tell him that plainly and directly. You seem hesitant, wary if you had over stepped or not; but he just hums pleasantly.

Ah, so he really does have a chance with you.

Silco stands closer and carefully drapes your well-used bandana over your nose, caressing the skin on the way. Studying the way you seem to tremble at the touch.

Perhaps he'd get the chance to see more of that soon.

"The next time you bring me my drink, stay".

He's back inside The Drop before he has given you time to answer.

He can't imagine his days without you by now... but perhaps he could start with a small personal conversation first.

THE END.

Hey, two in a row! I just got one more silco x male request and I'll jump back to star wars clones. See ya around!

[alisscared]

Something Wretched, Something Beautiful (and everything in between) - Chapter One

Familiar Faces | ao3

Chapter tags: Silco/Reader, Silco, Alternate universe Silco, Reader-insert, reader works for Silco in original universe, Vander, Jinx, Powder, Mylo, Claggor, slowburn, friends to lover, but also don’t really like each other to lovers, depends on the universe, eventual romance, alternate universe (s02e07), reader is transported to the alternate universe and is really confused, flashbacks, dubious hexcore usage, writer has a poor grasp on the science and magic system, just go along with it, no use of y/n, implied older man/younger reader, gender-neutral pronouns Cw: canon-typical violence, eventual smut (maybe??) bugs (kind of, reader uses the descriptor of something feeling like maggots in their skin)

Rating: Mature, possibly explicit in the future, 18+ minors dni

Chapter word count: 5.6k

Banner from cafekitsune

You weren’t exactly sure how you ended up here. One minute you were walking into Jinx’s workshop while she was working on a weapon with the Hex crystal she procured, and then next, you were here. You’re not quite sure what went wrong, maybe you scared her and she connected a wrong wire or she dropped something, but whatever happened caused a loud, blinding flash and you landed here. Wherever here was. You thought at first, you had passed out from the explosion. Your head tucked into your arms that rested on a cool, sturdy surface.

“You know,” a gruff voice spoke your name. “If I was really boring you that much you could’ve just told me.” You felt the vibration of a deep, hearty chuckle.

You slowly and cautiously lifted your head. It took a moment for your eyes to focus in on the large figure in front of you, your brain throbbing in your skull, but then as if a cold bucket of ice water was dumped upon you, your spine straightened and your eyes widened. A shock ran through you, leaving your mouth to go dry.

“Vander?” you managed out a quiet rasp that almost came out entirely cracked.

You watched the man in front of you chuckle once again as he finished cleaning a glass before whipping a towel over his shoulder. “The one and only.”

‘Alright,’ you thought as you looked at the man, completely dumbfounded ‘this is the most real feeling dream I’ve ever had.’ Promptly, you brought a hand up to painfully connect it to your cheek in a loud smack.

This earned another chuckle from Vander, though it was paired with a concerned look this time. “Doing alright there?”

You moved your head around slowly to take in your surroundings. Illuminated by the warm lighting you found yourself sitting on a stool at a bar. Around you was cheerful hustle and bustle. In one corner, there was a group of friends drinking merrily as they all participated in a card game, in another, there’s a couple on what looks to be a date. Your bleary eyes then roamed to the next table and you felt a shudder like no other crawl up your spine. Jinx and three other boys sat at a table, happily conversing with each other. You couldn’t place the feeling that crept through you like maggots in your skin when you realized that the two boys strongly resembled the handmade dolls Jinx had kept in her workshop. The ones she had never explained to you who they were but left you assuming the worst.

The Jinx you observed in front of you was vastly different from the one you knew, yet still very clearly her. She looked younger, softer. Her two long, wild braids were traded for choppy short hair that was put into two buns on the top of her head. Her face wasn’t long and hallowed, cheeks filled out, proof of eating fulfilling meals. Yet, the most striking difference you noticed was her eyes. Her eyes were still a dusty blue, but what caught you off guard was the joy you saw behind them, the contentment. It was a look you had only truly seen a handful of times from her but even then, it was never this pure. ‘That isn’t Jinx’ you thought, at least not the one you knew. You overheard one of the boys call her ‘Powder’. You furrowed your eyebrows as you thought back to the few times you’d witnessed Jinx talk to herself. There were 4 names you often heard: ‘Violet’, ‘Mylo’, ‘Claggor’ and ‘Powder’. That must’ve been who she was before Jinx. The revelation hit you like a brick to the face, your mind scrambling for any explanation as the original thought that this was just a dream started to become more distant because this just felt too real.

Just when you thought it couldn’t get any worse, you heard yet another voice, it was deep and silken, one you would recognize anywhere as it called your name in an attempt to pull you out of whatever trance you were in. “What’s going on with her?” the voice spoke again.

Your blood turned to ice, fighting to push through your very veins as you slowly turned your head back to look at the person who had joined Vander behind the bar. You couldn’t hide the look of horror etched onto your face.

Silco.

He called your name out once again, waving a hand in front of your face causing you to squeeze your eyes shut and shake your head, shedding off your trance-like state. “Are you feeling alright? Do you need anything?” His tone was concerned, caring. His eyebrows were furrowed as he examined your face with worry.

Your eyes darted all over his face, taking in every detail. The differences weren’t as overt as Jinx’s but they were there. The scar was still there, creased into his face but his eye wasn’t widened and red. Unpoked and un-prodded by Shimmer-filled syringes. Instead, there was a hazy grey that covered over his iris like a thin veil. His usual slicked-back hair was traded for a more casual, loose look that let it fall naturally.

“Yeah,” you took in a deep breath before stumbling out of your seat, using the bar to support your arms as you stood up. “I just-“ your eyes moved from Silco to Vander, then to Jinx, and finally landed on the door “I just need to get some air.” You stagger over to the door, your head dizzying from the bizarre environment. As your hand pressed the cool surface of the door to push it open, you hoped to find some odd solace and normality in the smoky, neon light filled undercity.

Solace and normality were not what you felt as you took in the outside surroundings. Instead of neon lights, the night was illuminated by soft, colorful lanterns. Instead of the smoky air, there was the smell of freshly made food coming from multiple vendor stands. It was beautiful, but it was not what you knew, not even close. For a minute, you just stood there, taking in the beauty of this unfamiliar Zaun. The sun had set, yet children were running around, innocently playing. People strolled about in Piltover-like garb. The sounds of children’s laughter and adults joyously chatting filled your ears. You stumbled over to the nearest bench to plop yourself onto before you toppled over from the sheer shock and confusion. As a gentle breeze washed over you, you heard the faint rustling of some papers. You turned your attention to the space next to you, occupied by a newspaper. You reached out to grab it, your eyes immediately landing on the date. It was 2 years in the future. Your eyes frantically looked up to survey the area around you once again. No, no, it was just too different. There’s no way you were only transported to the future, this had to be an alternate timeline as well.

You were so focused on the city in front of you that you didn’t notice a figure coming to sit next to you. You’re snapped out of it when you hear the sound of ice clinking as a cup is held out in front of you. Your eyes land on the drink and trail the arm handing it out to you up to meet the face of Silco.

He let out a small chuckle “It’s only water. I figured you’re not much in the drinking mood.”

Your eyes moved back to the cup being held in front of you as you slowly reached for it, your fingertips lightly brushing his as you took the water. You brought the cool, refreshing liquid to your lips before speaking again. “Do you ever feel like you woke up in the wrong universe?” You could feel his eyes on you, but you didn’t meet them as you continued to look over the city around you.

It’s silent for a moment as his eyes finally leave the profile of your face to look in the same direction as you. “All the time.” he spoke deeply, quietly. “Every time I wake up I wonder how I was so blessed to be in a universe where everything worked out.” he let out a breath. “I think of all the ways this all could’ve turned out and I can’t help but shudder at the thought of what could’ve been, what I could’ve been.”

You responded only with a nod. The way he spoke sent shivers down your spine. He said he shuddered at the thought of what could’ve been, without knowing you’ve shuddered at the thought of what has been, what he has been.

You were there at the fall of Vander. Well, you weren’t actually there where it happened, but you witnessed the aftermath all around you. You weren’t close with him, sure you knew him, everyone in the lanes did, but he was more of an acquaintance. You visited The Last Drop a few times, had some fun nights, exchanged a few drunken words, but that was the extent of your relationship with him. Compared to now, you were such a kid back then. Sure, you were technically an adult but you were still so green, so hopeful for the future. Everything fell apart when he died. It wasn’t until Silco had risen from the shadows when everything was pieced back together again. Sort of. He took control of the lanes. Took control of The Last Drop. Maintained some kind of order amidst the chaos. Downtrodden, dying Zaunites clawed their way for just a drop of Shimmer. It was disgusting. What he did was disgusting. Sure, he was fighting for the independence of Zaun, but in doing so he had used and discarded the very people he was fighting for.

That’s why you didn’t necessarily want to work for him. You didn’t respect him. But you did, however, respect the cause. The end goal. And as far as you were concerned, no one was as close to achieving it as he was.

You never approached him at first, though, and neither was it vice versa. It was Jinx who discovered you.

You see, living in Zaun wasn’t exactly a walk in the park. You had to fight and occasionally… okay very regularly steal. You didn’t enjoy it per se, but you were very good at it and it was very satisfying at times, especially when you had nicked something off from some good-for-nothing bozo. You never took from anyone in a less fortunate position than you, it just wasn’t in your morals. But pricks, specifically drunken ones that hung around The Last Drop, that was more your style.

One night, during a particularly bountiful harvest, as you slunk around the club pickpocketing from every poor soul around you as you blended in with the dancing and flashing neon lights, little did you know that a certain blue-haired teenager was watching you with excited curiosity from the bar. It happened all at once, this little blur of blue forced herself into your life and convinced you to work for The Eye of Zaun himself. Of course, he didn’t agree to it immediately.

“Look at them!” Jinx presented you in front of Silco, gesturing her arms out over you. “They probably stole everything those poor suckers down there are worth without them even noticing!”

You remember as you stood there in his office for the first time as he sat at his desk, his cold eyes, one a pale blue and the other a dark red surrounded by a void of black, looked over you with scrutiny. It seemed his face had a permanent grimace etched into it. He wasn’t a very physically imposing man, he didn’t appear to have the musculature of the usual Zaunite man, though it was hard to tell because of the elegant, collared coat he wore that appeared as if it were to swallow him whole. He dressed almost as if he were from Piltover but his face clearly indicated he was a Zaunite, through and through. It wasn’t just the scar that made it apparent. It was the crookedness of his front teeth, the weary lines creased upon his face, and the sharpness of his features. No, he was a child born from Zaun and no amount of fancy clothing or slicked-back hair could hide it.

“So,” his silken, indifferent voice began as his eyes continued to relentlessly scan over you. “You stole from my patrons? Most of whom work for me?”

“Well,” you drew out guiltily as you felt the pace of your heartbeat pick up. Unable to think of an excuse you press your lips into a thin line before opening them with a small click of your tongue. “Yes, pretty much.”

His face remained indifferent. He could’ve killed you right then and there, and most likely, was going to. But, maybe, you thought, he was refreshed with your blatant honesty.

After much convincing from Jinx he eventually relented into what you could’ve only described as an interview. You sat there in his dimly lit office, the only light in the room emanating off the small warm-toned lamp on his desk, and the neon lights of the night from outside the large circular window behind him. He had dismissed Jinx so it was just the two of you. You sat in a plain, hard wooden chair, your head having to tilt slightly up to meet his face as he sat cross-legged in his plush, maroon, button-tufted one. He sat high, his eyes narrowing down to look at you. Like a king on his throne looking down at a subject. You try not to be obvious about the indignant scrunch of your nose.

It felt like eons of silent scrutiny, his eyes hovering over you before he finally spoke, swirling a short glass of whisky in his hand. “Family?”

“Dead” you answered, your face and tone dispassionate. It wasn’t the most uncommon answer for a Zaunite, in fact, it was probably more common to have your whole family dead than alive. You were just lucky you were old enough to take care of yourself by the time your parents died. You didn’t have any siblings to worry about. It was just you. Of course, you were sorrowful over the loss of your parent, they will forever be a scar scorched upon your weary heart. But Zaunites didn’t have time to grieve. It had been years since you lost them during the failed uprising. You didn’t allow yourself to get choked up about it anymore. Only allowing it to pass through your thoughts during late hours when you couldn’t sleep.

“Lover?”

The blunt questioning caught you off guard for a split second before you let out a breathy, sardonic chuckle, amused at the idea “No,” you answer “It’s just me if that’s where this line of questioning is going.” You looked down in thought “I imagine whatever I am will die with me.” The words came out more candidly than you intended, more despondent than humorous.

He regarded you coldly, his eyes slowly scanning over your face. He remained emotionless but you could see the cogs in his head turning, looking over you as if you were a puzzle to solve “No” he spoke, his voice low and honeyed “I believe, in joining me, you would die with having much more purpose” His eyes met yours in a cool gaze, the eyebrow on his good side raising a little while the other, drawn on one, stayed frozen “Or, if you’re lucky, perhaps live with that purpose”

You let out a short chuckle through your nose “Well, at least you’re honest about my prospects,” Feeling a little bold, you raised a subtle, inquisitive brow “And what about you? Do you plan to live or die for the cause?”

You swear you saw the smallest, amused smirk on his face before he took a sip of his whiskey, placing the glass down on the wooden desk with a soft thud. “I do not have plans on sacrificing myself anytime soon if that is what you’re asking. I plan to see the great Nation of Zaun come to fruition,” his finger played around the rim of his glass “I would however, still die for the cause if need be.” he trained his eyes back on you “Would you?”

There was a palpable tension in the air as you sat with the question, but it didn’t take you long to produce your answer “No.” Sure you could’ve lied, cried out with bleeding heart passion ‘Yes, of course, I would give my life for Zaun!’ But what would the point be? Whether he hired you or not was relatively inconsequential to you. “I would do a lot to help make Zaun a better place for people, but I am no saint and I don’t want to be mistaken for one. If you’re looking for a martyr, that’s not me”

He offered you no emotion as he considered your response. It was frustrating. The only expressions he’s shown you being a quirk of his brow or a tilt of the corner of his lips. If you had half a mind you would grasp the man by his shoulders and shake him until he made a different expression. “No,” he finally spoke “I wouldn’t say ‘martyr’ is exactly what I’m looking for.” he took in a breath through his nose, leaning back into his chair “You can start tomorrow. Your honesty has a… refreshing quality to it” he admitted “Do try not to get too comfortable, though. Honesty is a fickle thing. In this line of work, it can often get you killed.” His cold voice came out as a warning. You knew this wasn’t just advice in regards to interacting with other people in this work but for him. He was telling you he would value honesty but only to an extent, and you’d be wise to heed his warning.

You felt a shiver run down your spine before giving a firm nod of understanding.

“Good,” he spoke lowly before looking down at the paperwork on his desk, picking up his pencil, indicating that the discussion was over. “You may leave.”

It wasn’t long before you had learned what his relationship with Jinx was. He trusted her and she was something of a daughter to him. She didn’t talk about it much to you, the whole story seemingly too traumatic to retell, clearly not having fully processed whatever had happened. But, what you were able to piece together from vague, sometimes crazed comments and context clues, you understood that she was abandoned by her sister at a young age and Silco took her in. You knew it wasn’t the full story, maybe not even the true one, but you didn’t have a death wish so you weren’t going to ask either one of them.

Despite Silco’s reluctance to hire you at first, you proved yourself to be useful. Part of it was out of spite towards him. You wanted to prove his lack of faith in you wrong. Some may have viewed your hard work as seeking his approval, but no, you and he both understood the true purpose behind your industriousness and grit. He saw it in your eyes every time you would go up to report a completed task to him, your eyes didn’t search his face like a puppy waiting to be called a ‘good boy’ like most of his other workers. You stood there reserved and indifferent, your eyes never moving from the same spot on his face. Of course, he would never say it, but you could tell he formed some sort of begrudging respect for you, or at least for the way you carried yourself.

Now, there you sat on a bench in what you can only assume was an alternate universe, side by side with your boss or apparently in this universe, your friend.

You took another sip of your water as you gave him an acknowledging hum. You brought the cup down holding it with both hands to rest it atop your thighs. You didn’t dare to look at him, to meet the hauntingly familiar face of this Silco. You’re not sure what you’d find there. You’re not sure what you’d feel. Your body felt tense, your muscles so stiff you feared if you moved they might creak.

You chose to train your eyes on the drink in your lap even as you felt him turning his head to look at you. “Remind me,” you start as the question creeps into your head, making its way to your tongue “How long have we been friends again?”

He let out a small, breathy chuckle as he turned his head back out to look at Zaun “Almost 6 months,” he answered with no hesitation. Your eyes dared to flicker up to look at his side profile and you noticed the small, content smile on his face. “Almost 6 months since Powder brought you in, insisting Vander hire you”

It was your turn to smile now, you couldn’t help it as it crept onto your face. Of course, even in this universe, it was her who got you a job. Your mind wandered as you thought about your life here. How did you meet Powder in this universe? Did she find you like she did in your universe? What were you doing before? And most importantly, were you a bartender now?

You let out a soft chuckle “She’s a force to be reckoned with.” Which earned a small laugh from him as well. Your ears perked up. You’d never heard him laugh or chuckle, or make any joyous noise before. It was breathy, deep, and reserved. You found yourself enjoying the unfamiliar sound.

After a beat of silence, he let out a sigh and put a hand on top of your thigh. You suppressed the surprised breath that wanted to leave your lips. You expected the touch to make your blood run cold but instead, you were greeted with a strange warmth. His touch was hesitant and gentle. He didn’t squeeze or let the weight of his hand press down on you. He was trying to comfort you. “Truly though, are you well?” He turned his head once more and this time instead of seeing your head turned down to look at your glass, he met you face to face. His eyes searched yours. “I don’t recall ever seeing you so.. distant”

For a few seconds, you could only look into his eyes as well.

You recalled the handful of times you had looked into his eyes. It was a rare occurrence. Sure, he had no problem looking at you, either scrutinizing you with his gaze or showing a silent, almost pleased regard to a job well done. Though, every time you strained your eyes up to look back at him he would only allow the contact for a fleeting moment before directing his eyes elsewhere and dismissing you. The last time he had ever looked you in the eyes was the last time you saw him before being transported to this strange, blissful universe. His eyes had been full of rage, a streak of purple dribbling out of his scarred eye exhibiting that he had just gotten his shot. You had just gotten back from a particularly dangerous assignment, one that did not go according to plan in the slightest.

You were tasked with sneaking into a rival chem barons warehouse and extracting some valuable equipment. In a move that was entirely unlike you, you had accidentally kicked a glass vial as you crept, immediately alerting warehouse guards of your presence. It was a nasty scuffle, as you booked it for the nearest exit, bullets whizzing past you, one grazing your shoulder. You let out a yelp of pain as a large warehouse guard pinned you against the wall, your torn shoulder hitting the cold metal behind you. You wriggled under his grasp, one hand pressing your shoulder back and the other reaching up to grasp your neck. Your fingertips wiggled as they grazed against the knife in your holster. Your hands finally tightened around the blade and you brought it up to stab the man in the neck. He collapsed before you, your vision was blurry as you looked down at your bloodied hands. Before you were able to process anything, you heard the sound of gunshots once again. Clumsily you found your footing and started running again. You’re not sure how you escaped, your vision hazy and your ears ringing, but you found yourself leaning on a wall in an alleyway, clutching your shoulder as you took in a ragged breath.

By the time you had gotten back, he had already heard what had happened. His worker had started a scene at a warehouse, and now his name was plastered all over the event.

The moment you walked in he had flung out of his seat, loudly hissing “How could you be so brainless?”

You had stood there as still as a soldier, your back straightened and you kept your eyes trained in front of you, not moving, not following his figure as he walked around his desk. “I made a mistake.” You felt the blood from your wound trickle down your arm, pooling at your fingertips, mixing with the blood of the man you killed, and dripping on the floor. “It won’t happen again.”

He let out a singular breathy, irate laugh “You’re certainly right it won’t happen again.” He crept toward you, as a predator would to its prey “I should have you killed for this.”

Your neck tensed at the words, the tendons slightly stretching out, still, you stood there stoically, your eyes refusing to look at him. “Are you not?” You inquired through a breath. “Or am I to be fired? Banished from the lanes perhaps?” Against your better judgment, the words came out as a slight scoff.

You failed to keep in a small gasp as he reached his hand up to you, his fingertips lightly pressing into the sides of your cheeks as he guided your head up to look at him. His gaze was wild and intense. You couldn’t decipher what it was if it was intense anger, judgment, or maybe even concern. You didn’t know and you didn’t want to know. You imagine you probably looked like a scared, wide-eyed creature, caught under blinding lights.

“Banish you from the lanes?” He let out a low, sardonic chuckle as his face inched ever so closer, stopping just before your noses could touch. You swear, that for a split second his eyes flickered down to your lips before his low, velvety voice spoke. “No, I don’t imagine there is any dark corner of Zaun you could flee to that would relieve me of the knowledge of your existence” He released your face to slowly trail his hand down to your shoulder, letting his thumb graze over the wound. It wasn’t a hard touch, but it was enough to make you wince and hiss slightly in pain. “This should be lesson enough”

There you were now, sitting on a bench looking into those very same eyes, but this time they were attached to someone who was almost completely different. Your mouth slightly parted as you analyzed the Silco in front of you. There was such tenderness and care in the eyes you had grown to know as cold and callous. You let out a breath and softly shook your head as you collected your thoughts. “I think I just need to get some sleep.” You paused as you looked up to the sky “It’s been a.. weird day for me.”

“Right,” his hand abruptly left your thigh, as if he just then realized what he had been doing. “Of course.” He stood up and gave you a faint, sweet smile, offering his hand to help you up.

You didn’t fail to notice the light blush dusting over his cheeks. You found it embarrassing how you internally reveled at the sight. When working for him, the thought had passed by you sometimes, that he was a beautiful, wretched thing. The thought was always fleeting but left destruction in its wake. When reporting back to him, you would sometimes find your eyes trailing the lines of his scars, your fingers tingling at the thought of what it would be like to feel them, rough and rigid in all of their wicked glory. You wondered how he would respond to the touch. Would he flinch? Would his eyes flutter shut as he leaned into your touch? Would he too revel in your soft flesh meeting his timeworn face? You knew the story of how the river toxins ate through his face and corroded his nerves. You wondered if he couldn’t feel anything there at all now, or if perhaps instead, he was extra sensitive there, the nerves not completely wasted away, just there under a thin layer of skin waiting to be touched. You always had to shake the thought from your head. Snuff it out before the flame grew. You knew it would only leave you as nothing but a charred pile of bones in the end. He was not a man to be loved. He was not a man that wanted it. You were so sure of it. But as you looked up at the man in front of you, offering his hand in support as a light pink painted over his pale cheeks, you wondered if you were perhaps wrong. You knew you were staring at that point. Taking in the details of his face. He was entirely different yet somehow, wholly the same. The Silco before you seemed to be entirely made for love and you were afraid you were starting to believe that the Silco you knew had a part of him that was made for it too.

You see him start to shrink under your prolonged gaze, his hand faltering. But before you let him drop it to his side you offered him a soft smile before placing your hand on top of his palm. You wondered if he too felt the subtle spark emanating off of the touch. You wondered how often he touched you like this in this universe. Was it a common occurrence? Simple, genial touches exchanged between two friends? Were they ever perhaps something more? You were only left to wonder as he helped you to your feet, his hand releasing yours as soon as you found your footing.

He pulled open the doors of the bar, holding them open and allowing you to go in before following. The kind gesture almost seemed to be second nature for him. He looked a little confused when you sputtered out a “Thanks,” as you walked past him as if he didn’t know why he was being thanked.

“Ah, there she is.” You hear Vander’s hearty voice exclaim as he propped his elbows on the counter. “How are you feelin’, lass?”

You gave a weak smile as you approached. Your eyes darting to Powder who was now at the bar as well, two elbows leaning on to it to prop herself up as she stood cool and casually. “I’m uh… I’m doing alright.” you sputter out “I think I just need to go home, get some rest.” you then immediately realized that you were not quite sure where ‘home’ here was. Was it the same place as your original universe or somewhere entirely different? “Home…” you muttered the word to yourself “Speaking of, can somebody walk me home? I just don’t think I’m in any state to get there by myself.” you let out a weak and breathy chuckle, hoping that excuse was believable enough.

You noticed a small, mischievous smirk play on Powder's lips as she looked between you and Silco, her face quickly dropping to appear casual as she pushed herself off the bar “Well, I have to meet up with Ekko to discuss what we’re doing for the innovator's competition” she then leaned slightly over the bar to put a hand on Vander’s shoulder “And Dad here has to close up the bar, so that leaves…” her eyes trailed to the man standing next to you as she donned a cheerful face “Uncle Silco! Be a gentleman and walk the girl home, would ya?”

All eyes fell onto him. His own eyes propped open a bit in a silent surprise before he cleared his throat and answered “Oh uh yes, of course.”

“You gonna be good to come in tomorrow?” Vander chimed in with the question.

You nodded, your eyebrows and the corners of your mouth downturned in a determined expression “Yes,” the answer came out weakly so you cleared your throat before speaking again “Yes, I’ll be fine. What time am I coming in?” your eyebrow raised slightly as you asked.

Vander let out a deep chuckle as he ran a rag over the surface of the bar “Jeez, you must be really out of it. 4 o’clock as always”

You awkwardly chuckled “Ah right, of course,” you spoke as if you were suddenly remembering, tapping the side of your head to indicate being a ditz “Silly me.” They all looked at you silently, one of Powder’s eyebrows raised in amusement and confusion. You just blinked and cleared your throat again before turning around “Right then, let’s go.”

Silco walked slightly ahead of you, pushing the door open for you yet again. As you walked out of the bar you heard the faint voice of Vander as he talked to Powder, the low rumble of a chuckle coming out of him “You’re gonna give that poor man a heart attack one day.”

a/n: Hiiiiii, this is my first time really writing a fanfiction and posting it anywhere. I originally intended this to be a one-shot but 6000 words in and I'm not even close to being done. Thanks to everyone who gave me advice on if I should just post it as a multi-chapter fic! I'm not sure how long I'm planning for this to be so just bear with me. Anyways, any feedback is appreciated! Is the shift between flashback and present clear? Lmk! Also, let me know if there are any warnings or tags that I missed! I'm also not familiar with how to format fanfics on here but i tried my best, anyways, kiss mwuah

[th3h0nkz]

Some x Reader fanfics plots for my favorite milfs/dilf from Arcane part 3

Part 1 and Part 2 for those who are intrested

A plot that I miss seeing in fanfics is the whole "I used to hate you, but one day I woke up and we were married", that's so much angst there to explore that it feels like a waste not to write it. I can see this plot happening either to Sevika or Ambessa.

For Sevika, I can see Reader being someone from a rich family from Piltolver and them both end up meeting because Silco and Readers parents became associates so they have to deal with each other daily, till one day, at a fancy gala both Sevika and Reader end up fighting again so reader decides to drink till they can't remember anything but, at the next day, they woke up in a bed that is not theirs and with Sevikas arm around them.

With Ambessa I see more them being "forced" to marry each other as a political move, but Reader is obviously against the idea since they know Ambessa's fame between.... everyone practically, so they made sure to make Ambessa's life a living hell so she would give up on the wedding idea but, one day while trying to run away from the Medarda's palace, Reader end up hurting themselves and the next day wake up on Ambessa's bed thinking this is all a punishment from Janna herself for trying to make the wedding not happen.

Another plot that I think is kinda cute is the "they're the babysitter of my kid so I've to keep myself professional", and obviously this plot is perfect for both Silco and Grayson

For Silco i can see the typical "you save my daughters life and now she wants you on her life forever" BUT with a twist, this hole time saving Jinx life was part of the plan to destroy Silco reign, unfortunally, Reader ends up falling in love with Silco and gets attached to Jinx and now they have to choose between helping the rebellion or leaving everything behinde to keep living their with their "perfect" little family

Now, with Grayson is more of the whole cliche of the plot, Reader is hired by the Kirammans and since Caitlyn is begining her shooting clasess and Cassandra is still against it, it kinda becomes Reader jobs to find any excuse so Caitlyn dosen't take the classes anymore but, obviusly, they end up falling for Grayson at first sight I might add so things end up complicated because they don't want to loose their job as much as they want to spend the most time with Grayson as possible.

And that's it :), if you guys ever write any of the things i post please tag me or send me the link ;)

[artistsfuneral]

You're the drummer of a fairly popular Zaunite band. You and your band mates get the chance of your lives, playing in The Last Drop for Jinx' birthday. Daughter of the Eye of Zaun.

The place is packed, neon lights flickering through the dark. Smoke, sparks and steam cloud the air into a thick fog-like substance that is more intoxicating than any drug. You've long since lost yourself to the rhythm of your drums. Your whole body moves with every beat. Your friend's voice rises high over the crowd and you open your own mouth, ready to join in the chorus with a practiced, hoarse scream, when your eyes lock with the father of the birthday girl. Despite the oppressing heat in the club, a shiver runs down your spine.

Silco grins at you and you're swept away by the music.

[mindthewitch]

Hey so, there's this arcane silco/reader fic that's absolutely captivated me so far by @thisishwrworld and you should definitely read it

(BTW it doesn't use Y/N which is something that often drives me away from reader fics)

Summary below the cut!

A certain bright and brilliant Undercity girl dreams of becoming a Piltover Academy Lecturer. Alas she has yet to reach such a status.

Working part-time at the Academy doesn't pay enough to support a life in Piltover, so what else is there to do with one's smart mind than educate others. From happenstance or maybe fate, this aspiring lecturer meets a man in search of a competent tutor for his daughter. That man is Silco, Eye of Zaun, and industrialist of the Undercity.

Just how will our heroine navigate a career in the City of Progress while still living and perhaps even thriving in the Undercity with all its quirks?

Set two years after Silco takes Jinx in. POV Second Person. x Reader with no use of Y/N. Features friendship with Viktor.

This is a multi-chapter fic that is IN PROGRESS. I have the story outlined, but not an exact chapter count. The romance will be slow burn though, you have been warned.

[avarkriss]

not yet

for @beskars (sorry for edging u while i was hungover)

vanco/reader. 2k-ish. edging. afab receiving oral (like a lot of it); dirty talk; orgasm denial; delayed satisfaction; they're both meanies in this idk i was possessed when i wrote this at like.... 3am. (no y/n, no she/her, but this reader has female anatomy). unedited as per usual if you see mistakes: no you don't.

stop looking at me like that.

You barely have time to breathe before you feel it - Vander’s mouth, low and open and reverent, just as Silco shifts to sprawl across you, pinning you down with his weight and heat.

They don’t speak. They consume.

Vander licks a slow, flat line up the seam of your cunt like he’s worshipping at an altar, savoring every drop. His hands slide beneath your thighs, holding you open with a gentleness that only makes the hunger in his touch burn hotter. Above, Silco leans in - kissing Vander over you, tongues brushing through your slick, lips meeting at your center like they’ve done this before. Like they dreamed of this.

You choke on a sound - half gasp, half moan - as your spine arches, hips caught between them.

Silco groans into the kiss, one hand spreading you wider so Vander can lick deeper, slower, more precise. Vander hums low, the vibration sinking into your bones as his tongue circles, flicks, worships - tracing you like a map he intends to memorize.

It’s too much. Too good. Not enough.

You writhe, hands clutching the sheets, mouth open in a silent cry as heat coils tighter in your belly. Every time Silco rolls your clit, Vander follows with a slow, grounding drag of his tongue just below - and then they meet again, mouths brushing, tongues tangled, like they’re sharing the sweetest thing they’ve ever tasted.

“Please,” you gasp, breath caught somewhere too high to reach. “Please, I - I need -”

Vander lifts his head, voice wrecked. “Need what, honey?”

Silco licks his lips, grinning into your thigh. “You gotta say it.”

Your answer comes out as a whimper, too ragged to shape into words.

But that only makes them smile.

Silco trails two fingers up your trembling stomach, slow enough to be cruel. “Poor thing,” he murmurs, voice thick with mock-pity. “So close you can't even speak.”

Vander chuckles, deep and dark, and licks another stripe up your cunt, leisurely, like he has all the time in the world. “We could let you come,” he murmurs, tongue circling your entrance, breath hot against your slick skin. “But where’s the fun in that?”

You sob, hips lifting in search of pressure, friction, anything - but Silco pins you easily, shifting just enough to trap you beneath him while his fingers toy with your clit in slow, teasing circles. 

“Not yet,” he says, and it’s not a suggestion.

You feel Vander’s breath catch, just before he mouths at you again - sloppy now, greedy, as though your desperation is making him drunk. His tongue presses deeper, curling inside while his thumb brushes the edge of your rim, teasing, never pushing. Every lick is patient torment, every motion deliberate.

They know what they’re doing.

They want you like this - panting, shaking, hot from throat to thighs with the ache of almost.

Silco leans down, mouth brushing your hip as he whispers, “Not yet.”

Then he bites you - just a scrape, just enough to make you arch - and Vander moans against your cunt, the vibration sending you hurtling right up to the edge again.

Close. So close.

But they don’t let you come. 

Not yet.

Slowly, he shifts - his weight dragging across your chest, heat trailing in his wake as he slides down to lie beside you. One hand drapes casually across your stomach, fingers still slick from your cunt. The other slips between your legs again, spreading you open with lazy precision as he leans in close.

He brushes his lips against your cheek, breath hot.

“Tell me what you want,” he murmurs. “Use that needy little voice. Or are you too fucked out to think?”

His fingers glide through your wetness, teasing, circling - then tapping your clit in a slow, rhythmic beat that makes your thighs jerk.

“Still can’t answer?” he mocks softly, tilting his head. “Tsk. Maybe they don’t really want it.”

Vander growls low against your inner thigh, his breath molten. “I think they do want it. Just need a little help asking.”

Silco clicks his tongue, dragging his fingers back down and letting them hover - so close to your clit it makes your whole body flinch.

“C’mon,” he says, soft and cruel. “Tell us. What do you want, sweetheart?”

You try to answer, but it comes out a shudder, a sound more like need than language.

Vander presses a kiss just beside your cunt, close enough to feel, not close enough to satisfy. “Want our mouths?” he murmurs. “Want me to tongue-fuck you until you shake? Want Silco to suck your pretty clit until you cry for him?”

You nod, frantic, desperate - but it isn’t enough.

“Say it,” Silco demands, voice sharp. “No more wriggling. No more whining. Use your words.”

You moan, breath catching hard in your chest. “I - I want -”

Silco’s fingers pause mid-circle. “Start with who,” he prompts, slow and deliberate. “Who do you want first?”

Your face burns. “Vander,” you whisper. “I want Vander’s mouth inside me. His tongue.”

“Where?” Vander’s voice is rough, already wrecked from holding back.

“My - my cunt,” you gasp. “I want you to fuck me with your tongue. Hard. Please.”

Silco smirks, lips brushing your ear. “Good.” He drags one finger down the length of your slit, gathering slick. “And what about me?”

You tremble, thighs trying to close, but Vander’s hands keep them spread.

“You,” you breathe, wrecked. “I want you on my clit. Sucking it. Using your mouth until I can’t see straight.”

Silco groans like he’s been waiting to hear that all night. “That’s better.”

Vander bites a kiss into your thigh. “Let’s give them what they asked for.” 

He moves first, slides his hands under your thighs again, settling between your legs like he belongs there (and he does) then licks one long, deep stroke from your dripping entrance to your clit, groaning into the taste like it’s his reward too. When he starts to fuck you with his tongue, it’s just like you asked - slow and thick, obscene with every stroke, pushing in deep enough to make your hips buck.

Above you, Silco smiles against your cheek. “Good little mess,” he murmurs, almost fond. “So polite when you’re desperate.”

He lowers his mouth and takes your clit between his lips, hot and slick, sucking softly at first, then harder when you cry out, rolling his tongue in maddening circles as your body starts to tremble.

Everything tightens.

Your legs, your gut, your throat - you’re right there, teetering on the edge, the pleasure spiraling into something huge and shattering -

And then they stop.

Both of them.

Vander pulls back, licking his lips, chest heaving. Silco lifts his head with a low, satisfied hum, wiping his mouth on the inside of your thigh like he knows it's his.

You sob, trembling, the denial hitting so hard it’s dizzying.

“You didn’t think we’d let you come that easily, did you?” Silco purrs, the edge of his voice cruel and smoother than silk. 

Vander kisses your hip, breath warm and smug. “You asked so pretty, honey. But I think we want to hear you beg.”

You can’t stop the sound that escapes, half sob, half growl of frustration, as your hips twitch upward, empty and aching, your whole body vibrating with their denial.

Silco leans in close, mouth brushing the shell of your ear. “You said please,” he murmurs, fingers teasing circles against your thigh, maddeningly close. “But I think you can do better.”

Vander's voice is deeper now, rougher. “You want us to let you come? Say it. Show us how much you need it.”

You gasp, wrecked and still wanting, the words trying to catch behind your teeth.

Silco tilts your face toward him again. “Don’t go shy now,” he says, cloyingly sweet. “Tell me how much you love our mouths. Tell me how close you were. How good it felt when I sucked your clit like I owned it.”

Vander kisses the inside of your thigh, slow and wet. “Tell me how deep you want my tongue inside you. How you need it. How you’ll do anything if we just let you come.”

Your whole body trembles. “Please -” you gasp. “I’ll say anything, I’ll - I need it, please - your mouths, your tongues, I need it back - need you back -”

“That’s not good enough,” Silco whispers, biting down gently on your jaw. “Get specific again. Like before. But now I want you to whine.”

You whimper, fingers clawing into the sheets. “Vander - fuck me with your tongue again. Deep. Don’t stop this time. I want to feel it - feel you - until I come on your face.”

Vander groans, the sound low and hungry. “Fuck. That’s it.”

You turn your head, panting against Silco’s mouth. “And you. Silco, please, put your mouth back on my clit - suck it, don’t stop, don’t tease - make me scream for you.”

Silco’s eyes flash with heat. “Good.” A pause. “One more.”

“One more?” you sob.

Silco smiles, slow and sharp. “Beg to be ruined.”

Your voice breaks on a sob. “Please. Ruin me.”

It slips out like a prayer; wrecked, raw, and undeniable. For a moment, there’s silence. 

Then they move.

Vander growls like he’s been unleashed, dragging you down onto his mouth as his tongue plunges back inside, harder this time, deeper, grinding into you with a rhythm that says mine.

Silco doesn’t bother with teasing anymore - he drops between your legs and devours your clit, lips sealing over it, tongue lashing as he moans into you like he’s drunk on your taste.

The pleasure hits like lightning, sharp and sudden, pleasure crashing through your body with every flick of Silco’s tongue, every thick thrust of Vander’s. Your hands scrabble uselessly for something to hold, legs shaking, your spine arched clean off the bed.

“Come on,” Silco growls into your skin. “Come for us.”

Vander hums his agreement, the sound vibrating inside you - and that’s what shatters it.

You break like a wave, like a dam bursting - eyes squeezed shut, mouth open in a silent scream as your body locks and lets go. Pleasure crests and curls and keeps going, keeps taking you with it, because they don’t stop, not even as you come, not even as you cry out, not until you’re twitching and trembling and collapsing between them, every nerve lit up and singing.

Vander pulls back first, breath hot against your slick skin, his voice low and reverent. “Fucking beautiful.”

Silco licks one slow circle around your clit, just to hear the way you whimper. Then he kisses your thigh, sharp and claiming. “Ruined. Just like you asked.”

You can’t move. Not really.

Every part of you is loose, trembling, slick with sweat and come and spit. Your limbs feel like liquid, nerves still sparking from the aftershocks as you collapse back into the bed, gasping for air.

Silco doesn’t give you space. He never does - not when he’s like this.

He slinks up your body, slow and dangerous, until his chest presses against yours and his hand finds your jaw. He tilts your head until your eyes meet his, even though they’re barely open.

“Look at you,” he murmurs, voice molten. “Fucked dumb by our mouths. You begged so sweetly. Said you wanted to be ruined.” He leans down, lips brushing yours - soft, almost loving. “Now you are.”

Vander settles beside you, big hands stroking gently over your hips, your thighs, your stomach - everywhere, like he can’t stop touching you. His voice is quiet, rough with heat and awe.

“You’re perfect like this. Messy. Wrung out. Ours.”

You make a soft, choked sound, too wrecked to form words, and Vander just smiles, leaning in to kiss your shoulder, slow and lingering.

Silco’s thumb strokes along your bottom lip. “You should see yourself, sweetheart. Spilled open like this.”

“You took it,” Vander adds, his hand ghosting down to the slick between your legs again, not with hunger this time, but reverence. “Everything we gave you. You gave it right back.”

Silco hums, pleased. “Didn’t even come until we told you to. Such a good little thing.”

You whimper, body twitching under their praise, still wrung out and open and aching.

Vander pulls you into his chest, his arms curling around you like shelter. “We’re not done,” he murmurs into your hair, soft and dark. “Not even close.”

Silco kisses the corner of your mouth. “But we’ll go slow next. You’ve earned it.”

They hold you between them, comforted yet still drenched in want, and you swear you could fall apart all over again just from the way they talk.

[x-amount-verbs]

Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers. Let’s spread the self-love 💗

Oh man. I could never pick just five, tbh. Here’s some that I reread frequently though, sorted by fandom rather than ranking.

Arcane:

A Helping Hand (30/? chapters posted, silco/f!reader; occasionally smutty/explicit, but mostly heavy on the tension/slow burn) Duh! Of course I rec my longest but still unfinished multichap! A story of recovery and personal growth mixed in with some weird bdsm kink stuff? Come on, it's fun! And its reverse POVs! Can be found both here on tumblr and over on AO3.

Dead by Daylight:

Unwilling Survivor (33/? chapters posted, legion/f!OC; rated M for graphic violence, mentions of suicide, sexual themes; enemies to enemies to enemies to lovers) I fucking love my OC Sam, okay?? I love her so dearly, and this was her first debut in this universe, one which I have since written her in a LOT through RP and projects with friends. Some of my favorite writing is Sam stuff, I love my suicidal final girl and the untapped rage in her, she's fantastic. Please read this.

Oxenfree:

So It Goes (21/21 chapters, complete and posted, Jonas/Alex; rated M for themes, but no graphic content; time loop angst and warning for stepcest) Possibly the only multichap I've ever completed, thanks to Hammie as a cowriter. Loved writing Jonas for this one, with his intense guilt and strong sense of responsibility, and the delicious angst the canon setting brings. Also had so much fun making mood boards for every single chapter. Hop on over to AO3.

Holy Spirits (25/? chapters posted, Jonas/Alex bi4bi m/f alternate future fic that is so far from the source material it's practically contemporary romcom; rated M for sexual themes and some violence; annoyance to friends to Complicated) I love love love everything I ever wrote with my friend Hammie for Oxenfree, and this is no exception. So much fun to write Alex, especially with the amazingly silly banter these two get up to, highly recommend. It's over on AO3.

Original Works?:

Okay so technically this is an AU of Holy Spirits, lmao, but if you like one you'll hopefully enjoy the other! Lucky In Love (36/? chapters and still occasionally updating; bi4bi m/f reality tv romance (cameraman/contestant); rated M for sexual content; another annoyances to friends to lovers story, because that shit is my drug) Basically the same backstory as Holy Spirits, and even steals some of the OCs from that story, but instead Alex is a contestant on a dating show and Jonas is a cameraman who's growing a conscience. If you like reality tv drama of the 2010s era, this has it. Over on AO3.

[ayehliwrites]

Silco fluff!

Hiya, I hardly ever post here anymore but have some Silco/Reader fluff and smut! https://archiveofourown.org/works/61307545

[beskars]

anthesis: a chef! silco x reader fic

pairing: silco x reader, she/her pronouns, no use of y/n rating: explicit summary: Even having never met him, you knew immediately who he was. The head chef moved with deliberate purpose, his lean frame accentuated by his chef’s coat—not the traditional white that dominated Piltover kitchens, but a sharp black with asymmetrical copper buttons that caught the light as he moved. The garment was impeccably tailored to his form, sleeves rolled precisely to mid-forearm, revealing the deft strength of his hands. A pair of culinary tweezers protruded from his breast pocket—a subtle signal of his exacting standards and the meticulous plating for which Crucible had already become known.

beta: @avarkriss

[chef silco / fic cover by @dreadfulmallow] [chef silco by @averagesilcoenjoyer] [chef silco by @yubikyu] chapter one; carefully arranged constellation

chapter two; not a flaw, but a signature

chapter three; the original architect of the concept

chapter four; when potential becomes realization

chapter five; memory preserved, then elevated

chapter six; a deliberate disruption of expectations

chapter seven; the illusion of intentionality

chapter eight; indifferent to memory, resistant to significance

chapter nine; a space briefly occupied by something unnamed

chapter ten; the small flame between you chapter eleven; with such obvious familiarity

chapter twelve; when the world is breathlessly poised

[h2pinky]

i just read someone on twitter saying that sevika met silco because she thought he was a lesbian and tried to flirt with him at the last drop years ago i think im gonna piss myself

[caitlynbuceta]

ᓚ₍ ^. .^₎

[alisscared]

Something Wretched, Something Beautiful (and everything in between) - Chapter Two

Muscle Memory | ao3

Chapter tags: Silco/Reader, Silco, Alternate universe Silco, Reader-insert, reader works for Silco in original universe, Vander, Jinx, Powder, Ekko slowburn, friends to lover, but also don’t really like each other to lovers, depends on the universe, eventual romance, alternate universe (s02e07), no use of y/n, implied older man/younger reader, gender-neutral pronouns, sexual tension, like a lot of it, sexually charged dart match Chapter CW: Vomiting (Only in the first paragraph), mentions of nausea

Rating: Mature, possibly explicit in the future, 18+ minors dni

Chapter word count: 7k

Taglist: @karolinda007-blog

Banner from @cafekitsune

You felt yourself cocooned inside a soft blanket, your body sinking into the firm mattress. You struggled to peel your eyes open, feeling a deep pit of nausea crawling up your chest. Rolling over to the side of your bed, you expel mostly water. A bead of sweat trickled down the side of your face making a soft patter as it hit the floor. With a groan, you rolled back onto your back, staring at the ceiling. You pried your hands from the comfort of your blanket to rub your eyes. Looking back at you was a ceiling that was no longer riddled with damp spots and cracks filled with crudely made drywall mud. You blinked the bleariness from your eyes as you remembered.

Right.

Alternate Universe.

Silco.

Bartender.

4 o’clock.

You craned your neck to the left, the side of your face sinking into the pillow as you looked at the small clock on the bedside table.

2:30.

You huffed, it wasn’t often you let yourself have the privilege of sleeping in this late, but you supposed it could be excused in this… less than average situation. You unraveled yourself from the blankets, the cool air hitting your skin immediately causing goosebumps that woke you up completely. You yawned as you sat up, swinging your legs off the side of your bed. Two feet met the cool, wooden floor beneath you. You wiggled your toes at the sensation. It was cold but not nearly as cold as the cement floor you were used to. 

For a few minutes, you just sat there reflecting on the events of last night. 

After you had walked out of the bar, Silco and you walked side by side as if it were a normal occurrence. Sometimes he would turn at a street corner, expecting you to turn at the same time, but not knowing where you were going, you kept on walking, nearly tripping over yourself when you realized he had turned. By the third time he caught you off guard with a turn you weren’t expecting, he just started to lightly grasp your upper arm whenever he was about to turn to make sure you followed. You knew, to him, you probably just seemed so out of it you couldn’t remember how to get home, but in reality, you just had absolutely zero clue where you were headed. The streets of Zaun were so different that even if your apartment was in the same spot as your universe, you doubted you would’ve been able to navigate yourself there. You took in the environment around you, the cleanly bricked streets illuminated by string lights. Buildings were whole and decorated rather than falling apart. There were no newspapers and tape covering windows or wooden panels covering holes in roofs. The night sky was clear with stars instead of the thick blanket of smog that you were used to covering the city like a permanent rain cloud.

“When did everything get so beautiful?” you questioned softly as you looked around in quiet awe.

Silco had let out a soft chuckle beside you “I ask myself the same question sometimes” his head turned up to look at the stars as you walked in tandem “Sometimes, it feels like it happened all at once” he then tilted his head back down to return his gaze in front of him. His voice softened ever so slightly as he continued “And other times, it feels as if it was a painstakingly slow process.”

The irony was not lost on you as you visualized what was the current state of your Zaun. You couldn’t help the way your mouth contorted into a tiny, bitter smirk “I know the feeling” you quietly concurred.

At that moment, a part of you wanted to scream. You wanted to cry. You didn’t know what this was. Or why you were brought here. You just knew that you would now be forever cursed with knowledge of how good things could’ve been. That this future was so close and yet just out of reach for your universe. How could you ever possibly go back after seeing this? But how could you possibly stay? You weren’t sure if you even had the privilege to choose. Part of that realization relieved you, that you didn’t have control over that. But you would’ve been lying if you said it didn’t awaken a simmering anger deep in your chest, being so helpless. Being left to the whims of the arcane. You didn’t, however, scream and cry at that moment. You just continued to walk in silent resignation. Letting the sound of your congruent footsteps, soles meeting brick, rhythm in your ears.

“Am I a good bartender?” You had abruptly asked, forcing the topic of the conversation to be changed. 

Silco let out an amused hum, a smirk playing on his lips as his eyes moved to look at you from the side “Feeling doubtful of our skills, are we?” His tone was light and teasing.

The playful roll of your eyes came to you so naturally. As if you two had danced this dance many times before. 

It would’ve been so easy to think that this could’ve never occurred with the Silco you knew. That he was too rigid, too mean, to have ever let an interaction like that occur. And the truth was, he was rigid and he was mean but he wasn’t soulless. A memory flashed through your head, projecting over the Silco next to you. You were back in your Zaun again, back with your Silco. His arm was slung over you as he drooped weakly. You think you were walking down the very same street except going toward The Last Drop rather than away. His other arm clutched to his side, his hand covering the edge of his abdomen. He had just been shot. A meeting had gone wrong, people scattered everywhere. You remembered how he froze as the gun was pulled out, as the trigger was squeezed, as he then stood there with the bullet in his skin. Sevika had been on the culprit in an instant and you didn’t know why, but your first instinct was to run over to Silco before he could topple over. Sevika had stayed behind to fight, allowing Silco and you to make your escape.

Your eyes glanced over to him as you supported him. His jaw tensing and his scowl deepening by the second. You could tell he absolutely despised being seen like this, being so vulnerable. His silence lingered thick in the air. His mind had always possessed more fortitude than his body. He wasn’t weak by any means, his multitude of scars demonstrating that, but still, he was not the type to just walk a bullet wound off. You practically felt the ire simmering off his body. You still don't know what possibly possessed you to break the silence, but you did.

“How are you holding up?” The question came out slightly heaved as you took on some of his body weight.

“I’ve just been shot” he hissed out, the words causing spit to fly through the air “How do you think?”

“Right,” You let out an exasperated exhale through your nose, you weren’t able to stop the slight roll of your eyes. You’d been shot before, you knew it wasn’t pleasant in the slightest, but you also knew that the bullet didn’t hit any organs, he wasn’t dying and his passionate anger sure attested to it. “Just thought I should ask.” The two of you continued to walk in limped steps. His entire body weight wasn’t leaned onto you, he still had some strength, you were mostly there to keep him steady. “You know, you could be a little nicer to the person literally helping you to safety right now” You don’t know what emboldened you to say that but the words had already left your mouth.

He let out a scoff in response “I’ll consider it when we actually make it to safety”

You had two options at this point. Continue with your audaciousness or relent. Unfortunately for you, it wasn’t like you to back down. “Or I could just leave you here.” you threatened in an almost teasing tone, clearly not being serious considering you were still walking with his arm slung over your shoulder.

“You do that, and I can guarantee you won’t live to see tomorrow.” His voice was a threatening growl, but you could feel his body tensing, his breath becoming more ragged. He knew he was at your mercy.

“Relax” you puffed some air through your nose. His arm was starting to slide off you so you readjusted yourselves pulling his arm tighter around your shoulders “I would never actually do that” Your arm then instinctively moved down behind him, your hand landing on his hip bone to keep him steady. You felt his body tense faintly under your touch and you ignored the swirling feeling in your stomach.

Hunched over as he continued to walk in tandem with you, his eyes had to turn upward to look at your face. You saw his head slightly turned to your direction through your peripheral as you kept your eyes straight ahead. You basically sensed the lightest smirk on his face, it was condescending, satisfied, and teasing all at once. You wondered how he was always able to convey so many meanings in just one gesture. “I’m sure you’re tempted, though” his voice was low and gravelly.

You remembered how you let a soft, breathy chuckle out at that. Maybe it was because of his sheer audacity, maybe it was just the whole situation, but either way, you just did. “And you’d be right” 

You flung the memory from your mind with a squeeze of your eyes and a slight shake of your head. No, it was much harder to think about how this kind of banter had happened before, because that made him human to you, it had made him more than The Eye of Zaun, and it had made him too similar to this Silco you were growing fond of. 

“No, I’m just curious what you think” you replied as the memory faded from your thoughts.

“Well I think” he started “that Vander wouldn’t have hired you if you weren’t good”

You laughed at that “I don’t know, Powder can be pretty convincing”

“That is true” he stopped to look at you “but I don’t think anyone would ever need to be convinced of your talents”

The way he looked at you made you queasy,  a subtle nausea that crawled up through your chest. Like he would personally pluck the stars from the sky for you if you had asked. Like there was something he wanted to say constantly hanging on the end of his tongue but refusing to leave his mouth. Like that night you had carried him home, you ignored that swirling feeling in your stomach. It was soon after that you had arrived to your place. Sure, enough, it was the same apartment from your universe only… much more renovated.

You sat on the edge of your bed letting out a frustrated groan as you thought about it, running your fingers through your hair. Being stuck in an alternate universe was challenging enough. But having to deal with him? The way he looked at you? The way he spoke to you so softly? That was a completely different challenge in itself.

Your knees wavered at first as you stood up, still adjusting to the new universe. You stumbled your way over to the full-length mirror that rested against your wall. Like Silco and Jinx, there were subtle differences about you. Your hair was a bit longer and your body was softer. You lifted your baggy shirt up to look at your stomach, it was pliant and scarless. Your hand ran over your new body grabbing parts of the tender flesh. The change wasn’t too drastic but it was evident you weren’t running anymore, weren’t fighting, weren’t just surviving. You took a step closer to analyze your face. Your cheeks were more filled out and the dark circles under your eyes were lighter. You tested out a smile in the mirror to see how it looked, it felt so natural to do, you must’ve been happy here.

The afternoon was filled with several more surprises as you looked through your apartment. It almost felt like you were snooping, the way you were looking through drawers and cabinets, opening journals and books, trying to see what little pieces of your other self's life you could put together. You pulled some clothes out of the dresser chuckling a little as you looked at the material. It is exactly the kind of clothes you had always imagined yourself wearing if you had the privilege. Still matching to your original style but neater and more put together. 

As 4 o’clock neared you started retracing your steps from last night back to the last drop. It was much easier to navigate in the daylight. The city was bustling, street vendor shops open and busy, children running through the streets, and the sunlight shining down from the clear sky. Your hair is blown forward from the breeze of a monocycle whizzing past you. A profound joy bubbles up inside of you as you walk through the city in all its glory.

Your steps faltered as you approached The Last Drop, your eyes scanning over the exterior of the building. You hadn’t truly had the opportunity to look at it the night before. No longer was there the blindingly green neon lights arranged to look like an eye. The building itself was a pleasant mixture of mint green and brick red, its signature sign in the same place it had always been. That was the one constant of the building, you noticed. In your timeline, even when Silco had taken over the sign remained as the iris of the bar's signature green eye. You never understood why he kept the name, kept the sign. But you had your theories. Perhaps it was his way of conquering it, mocking Vander, saying ‘It’s mine now, I’ve corrupted it and you aren’t here to do anything about it” or maybe, a part of you thought, it was his deranged way of keeping an old friend’s memory.

Your knowledge of Silco and Vander’s relationship was limited. It was kind of an open secret in The Lanes, that they used to be friends so close they would call each other ‘brother’. You didn’t know the full story, but you knew that the two had a falling out at some point during the failed uprising, and the next time Silco was seen, he had that scar. When Vander died and Silco took over, you would hear hushed voices of the older Zaunites discussing it. Eventually, though, the whispering stopped, afraid of inciting his rage. 

You were pulled from your thoughts when you felt a hand connect to your shoulder in a friendly smack “Look who it is!” The voice of a young man exclaimed cheerfully “Powder told me you weren’t feeling well last night, how are you doing?” 

Your head whips to see a young man at your eye level, wearing a pale green blazer with a white shirt and vest. His stark white locs were pulled back into a ponytail and small gold earrings on each lobe reflected off of the sun. You didn’t recognize him but there was something familiar about him you couldn’t quite put your finger on. Your mind scrambled to remember something Powder had said last night.

“I have to meet up with Ekko to discuss what we’re doing for the innovator's competition”

“Ekko!” you tried to match his cheer, your eyebrows raising a bit as you tested the name, hoping you were right that this was who she was referring to. When you’re not met with confusion, you continue “Yeah, yeah, I’m feeling a lot better” It wasn’t completely a lie, you were feeling better, the pounding in your head dulled and the nausea was subsiding. Still, you weren’t exactly feeling great.

“That’s good, see you inside.” He offered you a friendly smile and patted your shoulder as he walked past you making his way into the building.

You followed soon after, laying your hand flat against the door as you pushed it open. The vibrant aura immediately flooded your senses. You were able to get a much better view of the interior when you weren’t still completely reeling from your interdimensional travel. Your eyes scanned across the room. Ekko, Powder, Mylo, and Claggor were all sitting in booths at a table, merrily talking to each other. On the other side of the room, you see a few guests pulling levers on rudimentary arcade games. The room was bright, light spilling in through windows and the detailed glass surroundings of the door. As you walked in, you noticed a dartboard hanging on the wall. Underneath were papers taped onto the wall, all doodles from Powder you assumed. Some were scores of past games, but one you noticed was an ongoing tally of games won. You fondly smiled as you looked at the scoreboards she drew, one of them containing drawings of Silco, Vander, a man who could only assume was Benzo, and you. You eyed the scores, Benzo far in first, Silco and you tied for second, and Vander in last. The scores between Silco and you caught your eye, you wondered if there was an ongoing competitiveness between the two of you. It sure sounded like you. And it sure sounded like him.

You turn around as you hear Vander call your name “Hey, you turned up!” He heartily exclaimed as he poured a drink for a customer  “How are you feeling, lass?”

You warmly smile as you walk up to the bar “I told you I would,” you rest both your elbows on the bar “And I’m doing alright”

He chuckled as he placed the glass he filled and slid it to the customer “Well what are you just standin’ there for? Start pouring some drinks.”

That’s when you visibly froze. You didn’t actually know how to bartend, that was a skill that was completely original to your alternate universe self “Right,” you nervously chuckled as you pushed your elbows off the table “Pour some drinks.” you repeated as you hesitantly walked behind the bar.

The moment you got behind the bar, Vander finished up a drink he was pouring and took the towel off his shoulder, softly whipping it over yours “I got some crates in the back alley from a shipment this morning, take care of things while I bring them in, would ya’?” 

It was more of an instruction than a question as he started walking away before you were even able to answer. You felt sweat collect on your brow as you internally panicked, hoping the raw fear wasn’t visible on your face.

You looked around at the various taps and barrels, at least they were all labeled. Maybe this wouldn’t be so hard, maybe people would come in and simply order whatever was on tap. You squeezed your eyes shut as if to reset yourself and took a deep breath. You literally worked for Silco, you’ve done countless dangerous jobs, surely you could handle bartending. 

When you opened your eyes, a young man was sitting at the bar, you put on the most polite smile you could muster up and went up to him “What can I get for ya?” You hoped that came out like it was normal.

You simply nodded as he ordered a Whiskey Sour, the smile stuck on your face with blank eyes. The second you turned around your smile dropped. Whiskey Sour? That was just whiskey and lemon, right? But how much? You internally panicked as you reached for the bottle of whiskey under the bar. As you started pouring it into a glass your muscles suddenly moved on their own, turning the bottle up before you could pour too much in. You could’ve cried out of relief.

Thank Janna, this body had muscle memory.

You still had to think though, the cogs in your head turning every time a drink that consisted of more than one ingredient was ordered as you tried to figure out what was in it. You continued to make drinks as the sun started to set, the golden light cascading in through the windows. You were so caught up in the drink-making frenzy that you didn’t notice someone standing behind you “Need a hand?” You jolted in surprise, your hand jerking the glass up causing the ice to jump out and part of the drink to splash onto your shirt. You turned around to see Silco, his face being shocked as well at first but soon melting into a gentle chuckle. You placed a hand on your chest as you regained your breath from the scare. “I’m sorry, I thought you knew I was there,” he spoke between his low, soft laughter.

Just as you thought you were snapping out of your shock from the dichotomy of the two timelines, he had to let that joyous sound fall from his lips again. Like a stricken chord from an unfamiliar song, causing goosebumps to crawl up your arms and a strange feeling to settle in your chest. You tried to ignore the quick palpitation of your heart. If his smile was like a knife to your gut, his laugh was like the knife being twisted. Your jaw tensed as you resisted the urge to become slack-jawed. Quickly composing yourself, you straightened your back and swatted his shoulder before turning back to the bar, continuing the drink. “When did you even get here? I didn’t see you come in.”

“From the back, I was helping Vander with the shipment” His head gestured towards the back door.

You shook the drink in a shaker, keeping your body turned away from him “Where is Vander anyway?”

You heard him start to move behind you, picking up a towel from under the counter “I believe Powder and Ekko stole him away. No doubt making him listen to their ramblings over the innovator’s competition” his rich voice spoke with a hint of amusement.

You gave him an acknowledging hum in response as you poured the drink into a short glass. You swiveled on your heels to turn around and walked up to the front of the bar, placing the drink down for the customer. You spoke again as you turned around, resting your palms on the edge bar as you leaned back. “I should be fine here, I don’t need any help” you hoped that was convincing enough.

The truth was, you probably did need the help but there was something in your gut telling you to keep your distance from this Silco. Whatever was happening between him and your other self was something you didn’t have the heart to look into. If you thought too deeply about it, you might find something there. You didn’t know what the probability of getting back to your original timeline was, but in the event that you did, you were already going to have a hard enough time interacting with Silco again, you didn’t want to make it even harder for yourself.

He let out a small chuckle as he walked up next to you “You, my friend, have always been a bad liar,” he then leaned slightly over the counter, speaking to a customer that had just walked up “What can I get you?”

Right, of course, he wasn’t going to take no for an answer. It may have been an alternate universe, but it was still Silco. You let out an exasperated sigh as you turned around to face the bar, standing parallel to him “I am not” you let out defensively.

He gave a short, playful scoff, his head turning to look at you before bending down to get a bottle of ale “Whatever helps you sleep at night, darling”

Your heart stuttered at the nickname. It rolled off his tongue so smoothly, so casually and he didn’t seem phased by it at all. Sure, it was playful and teasing, no real weight being held in its usage, but the endearment was still jarring. As every interaction with him had left you so far, you were asking yourself if this behavior was normal between the two of you.

Yet another thing for you to ignore.

 ─── ⋆⋅⋅⋆ ───

An hour went by as the two of you worked in tandem, shoulders sometimes brushing lightly as you passed each other. You tried to maintain the wall you decided to put up, but it soon proved to be much more difficult than you thought it would be. Your responses to his quips and comments spilled out of your mouth naturally and unwittingly. The two of you conversed as if it was a well-practiced waltz. The banter, the teasing, the small smiles you saw creased into his face as you would pass each other. It was almost too much, you had felt yourself dizzying slightly. He was spinning you too much in this dance. 

As the bar started to settle down, Powder and Ekko emerged from another room, planting themselves on stools at the bar.

“Well, we’re utterly doomed.” Powder's raspy voice spoke as she laid her head on the table in exasperation.

Ekko sighed as he placed a hand on her back “Oh come on, we’ll figure it out,” he comforted her “We still have plenty of time.”

“Are the geniuses having doubts?” Silco turned around as he cleaned the inside of a glass

Powder let out a muffled “Yes” at the same time Ekko confidently spoke “No”

“We’re just” Ekko started, squinting a little as he articulated his thoughts “Lacking inspiration on what to make for the competition is all”

Facing away from them, you looked up in thought, recalling a sweet drink that you saw Jinx sometimes get when she was lost in her woes. You poured out a carbonated lemon-lime drink and mixed it with a sugary pomegranate syrup. You spun around and placed the glass down with a soft thud, causing Powder to lift her head slowly from the table. You popped a metal straw in the drink. Her face softened as she looked between you and the drink. 

“Thanks,” she quietly muttered with a smile hinting on the corners of her lips as she went in for a sip.

Behind you, you heard the thunk of a door closing which was soon followed by Vander’s hulking figure behind Silco and you. He clasped two study hands, one on your right shoulder and one on Silco’s left. Vander’s face turned slightly to regard Silco “You’re not scheduled today, what’re you doin’ behind the bar?” 

A small teasing smirk rose on the corner of Silco’s mouth “Our little star bartender needed the help,” 

“Ah right,” Vander’s robust voice spoke with a smile as he patted Silco’s shoulder “Cause you’re so selfless” he quipped, causing Silco to raise his good eyebrow up in mock offense. He released your shoulders “Well, about time to close up, Powder, Ekko, want to help two old men and a tired bartender out?”

The four of you then began to clean, Powder sweeping the floors, Silco cleaning glasses, Vander cleaning the bar, and Ekko and you splitting up cleaning the tables. Cheerful chatter broke out as you all worked, Powder and Ekko spitballing ideas for the competition and talking about their day and Vander enthusiastically responding. Silco, who even in this universe wasn’t the biggest conversationalist, would occasionally chime in with a few comments and quips. You, for the most part, stayed quiet, both from not knowing how to participate and from just wanting to listen to them all interact. You reached a table pressed up against the wall, next to it was the dartboard you noticed earlier. Your strokes over the wooden table with your damp, soapy rag became weaker as you fixated on the board and the scores. 

Clearly lost in thought, you were snapped out of it by Silco’s playfully goading voice from across the room “Contemplating our next match?”

You covered up your distracted mind with a playful snort “Yeah, just coming up with all the ways I can beat you” 

“Then I don’t suppose you’d be opposed to a match when we’re finished up here?” He raised his good eyebrow “We need to break our tie after all.” 

The way he spoke was reminiscent of the Silco you knew but just in an entirely different context. This wasn’t charged with ire and power, this was playful, over something trivial, but still low and velvety. You’d be lying if you didn’t say it didn’t stir something deep within you, a warm queasiness settling low in your stomach like molten hot butterflies. 

“Fine then,” You tried to retain an entirely blasé look on your face as you turned back to continue wiping down the table “You’re on.”

It wasn’t long after that you all were finished. Powder lazily slung an arm around Ekko “I’m gonna walk boy genius over here back to Benzo’s” 

Vander’s head perked up lightly “Mind if I join? I got some business to do with him”

Powder enthusiastically agreed as if this had been rehearsed, the three sharing a look between each other like they knew something Silco and you didn’t. You watched the confident smirk that was on Silco’s face falter, his good eye suddenly looking nervous at the prospect of being alone with you.

‘Ah,’ you thought as a realization dawned on you ‘he’s all bark and no bite’

When people were around he was smug, he was witty but you had seen him yesterday when you were alone. You saw the nervous fidget of his hands, the blush sweeping across his face after he realized he was touching you, his small silences as he chose what to say next. There was something there, something real, something raw.

And something that was entirely too much for you to think about at that moment.

Ekko bade farewell to you two and Powder and Ekko did the same in case you were gone by the time they got back.

You were the first one to walk over to the dart board, a mixture of enthusiasm and pure, unadulterated dread. 

“Eager, are we?” The tease fell from his lips. You could basically feel the expression he was making behind you as he followed. A small smirk twisted from the scarred side of his face. 

You didn’t turn around. You walked up to the board and plucked the blue darts from it, zeroing in your focus on the approaching game and nothing else. “I can’t wait to watch that smug look fall from your face when you get your ass handed to you” you quipped at him, allowing your eyes to fall on him for a split second to drive the point home, You stepped back with the darts in hand, your eyes following Silco as he went to collect his darts. 

He walked back and got up onto a table in a half sit, his legs long enough to be firmly planted on the ground, mostly using the table to lean back on. One hand laid flat on the table behind him to keep him propped up. His other hand holding his red darts. With the same expression on his face, he simply raised an arm up towards the board, gesturing for you to go.

You felt like you wanted to crawl out of your skin from the way he observed you. It felt downright libidinous how his eyes traced over you as you held your first dart up. You saw him in the corner of your eye, leaning onto the table in a blasé manner, his good eye half-lidded, and his fingers splayed out atop the table. 

Maybe this dart match wasn’t a good idea. 

You tried to block him out of your peripheral as you kept your eyes trained on the darts, biting the inside of your cheek as you focused. One round, the two you had agreed on. One round to break the current tie. You could do this. You brought your arm lightly back and propelled the dart forward. With a satisfying thud against the cork, your dart pierced the middle double ring under the 18. Not exactly where you were aiming but still a nice 36 points. You suck in a deep breath as you prepare your next dart, gliding off your fingers it lands on another double, 28 points. You couldn’t help the small, proud smile that graced your face. Your dart skills here clearly outweighed the ones from your timelines. Your eyes flickered to the side to glance at Silco, his eyes still trained on you, focusing on you like you were focusing on the dart board. “Feeling nervous?” You teased.

He let out a soft chuckle “I’ll let you know after you throw your last dart”

You shook your head with a smile as you focused back on the board.

Breathe in

Relax wrist

Pull back

Throw

The dart hit the board, delivering a satisfying thud. A wide smile slowly spreads across your face as your eyes narrow onto the dart's location.

Bullseye.

You couldn’t help the way you clasped your hands together and gave a little victory jump. Practically beaming. “Ha!” You exclaimed excitedly as you pointed to the dart “Look at that!”.

Lost in your celebration you didn’t notice the genuine smile perking up on the corner of Silco’s lips as he looked at you with the most ardent endearment.

Reeling from that high you composed yourself, pressing your lips together as you tried to suppress your smile. You stepped back, gesturing your hands to your spot with a bow, playfully inviting him to take his turn. With a curl of his lips, he pushed himself off the table and strode over.  

“Nervous yet?” You continued your light ribbing.

“If you think that scared me,” he started, glancing back at you with the corner of his lip curling up into a slight grin “you’re sorely mistaken” he spoke low and smoothly before training his eyes back on the board and throwing his first dart with a quick flick of his wrist.

You rolled your eyes playfully as you relaxed yourself on the table he was previously on, 

crossing your arms over your chest. With a precision that almost makes you jump up, he hits the same spot you did on your first try. 36 points.

His lips crooked into a wry smile. “Only 118 points,” he spoke to himself with a quick cock of his head, the smile unmoving from his face “That should certainly be doable”

You lightly scoffed, lolling your head back in exasperation.

You could tell he was pleased with your annoyed reaction, his back straightening a little. He was like a bird showing off his feathers, putting his ego out on full display. Whether it was just to get a rise out of you or to impress you, you didn’t know. But you think it was probably both.

He lifts his arm back up again for his second throw. Another sound of a dart hitting cork filling your ears. 

Bullseye.

He didn’t turn to face you but you could feel the cocky grin basically radiating off of him. “Are you going to perhaps ask again if I’m feeling nervous?”

You leaned your hips against the end of the table as you eyed the man with contempt. He gave a slight chuckle at your charged silence as he raised his final dart up.

He trained his eyes on the board, his hand slightly teetering back and forth as he calculated his precision. His cocky expression never wiped from his face. As he moved his hand back one more time, ready to launch the dart. You spoke.

You quite don’t know what emboldened you, you probably were just fed up and wanted to see that smile wipe off of his face. But perhaps, something deep inside of you just wanted to see him blush again “I could give you something to feel nervous about” you spoke in an almost annoyed mutter, just loud enough for him to hear.

The dart released from his hand.

4 points.

His shot was thrown off.

You didn't have the time to process what you just said as you jumped up in elation. You raised your arms and let out a triumphant  “Ha!” You strode over the scoreboard and scratched a tally next to the drawing of your face.  You were practically beaming as you turned back around to him, approaching him to gloat. In other situations, you would’ve been a humble winner, but with him, he released a feral competitiveness inside you. In the midst of your jubilant and prideful celebration, you didn’t notice how close you had gotten to him. The realization only hit you like a cold splash of water when you saw that beautiful sanguine color splashed across his pallid face. You weren’t paying attention to know if it bloomed from your little comment or your closeness.  It had only just donned on you then that his scar was on full display, uncovered by any makeup. In your universe, that was a rare sight. Here, it appeared to be the norm. It had never occurred to you as to why your Silco covered his scar up. 

You noticed how he would avoid his reflection. Most people, when they walk past a reflective surface like a dark window or a shiny glass, can’t help but take a peek at how they look at that moment. But whenever Silco passed one, he wouldn’t even move his eyes to take a glance, avoiding it like a plague. He kept his eyes trained forward, stoic, and unyielding to the vainness of the rest of humanity. But perhaps it wasn’t vainness he was avoiding, but shame. 

You’d seen him bare-faced, rarely, but you have. You never thought it affected his face too terribly. You could clearly picture his face without the scar carved into him. No, whatever it was from the scar that truly affected him ran more than skin deep. His shame, his agony, his rage burrowed itself into his heart. Each aortic pulse pushing those feelings fervently through his veins like the molten lava seeping from a volcano. 

It was a constant reminder of the betrayal. A constant reminder of the weakness he felt that day. A constant reminder of everything he left in the past. 

His head turned downwards to look at you. Eyes flickering across your face, his good eye wide. Eyes, lips, eyes and then settling in on the spot in between your eyebrows to feign eye contact. You felt the heat of his breath mist over your nose. You quickly sobered your expression up and cleared your throat, stepping away as you felt a heat bloom in your cheeks. You extended your hand out to be shaken. “Good game, good game” you awkwardly spoke as you nodded your head.

He cleared his throat as well, his face quickly morphing into nonchalance as he reciprocated the handshake. “That was unfair, you know.” He spoke lowly and mirthfully. His grip around your hand was tight, nothing painful, but firm.

You looked up to the ceiling, feigning innocence “I haven’t the faintest idea what you’re talking about” 

Your eyes look back down to meet his as the two of you entwined your hands for a period of time that was entirely too long to be considered a brief handshake. Slowly, he released his hand, his thumb grazing over your knuckle as he retracted. “I’m sure you don’t,” he spoke with a curl of his lips. He gave you a quick bow of his head “I suppose you’re officially our second-place dart player. Now you just need to worry about Benzo.”

You let out a singular breathy laugh “Right, it’s about time someone new took on the mantle of ‘resident dart master’.” The two of you shared a dry chuckle before falling into a short silence. Feeling your eyelids grow heavy, you broke it the silence by dismissing yourself “well, I better get home.” You point both thumbs over your shoulder towards the door.

“Right, of course” he nodded before he raised his good eyebrow “Remember the way?”

You pressed your lips together and nodded. You weren’t sure you could spend another minute with this man without doing something you might regret later. You bade each other a good night before turning around to walk to the door. As your hand wrapped around the handle, you thought aloud to yourself “Shouldn’t Vander and Powder be back by now?” 

Your question was answered as you pulled open the door, Vander and Powder scrambling to look like they were just about to walk in. 

“Oh would you look at that,” Powder exclaimed with a sheepish smile “You’re leaving just as we were coming in,” she snapped her fingers in feigned disappointment “And here I was hoping to catch the match.”

Vander just nodded in agreement, mumbling something along the lines of “Oh, yes.”

The door was way too far from the dart board for them to have been eavesdropping. Were they waiting out here while you two played? You banished the thought from your head. You were beginning to pile up on things you should ignore. You chuckled and shook your head in disbelief as you walked past them. “I’ll see you tomorrow, you guys.”

As you waved to them, walking away, Vander called out “Who won?”

“Ask him,” you gestured your head to the establishment with a proud smile before turning back around “Goodnight!”

That night, as you curled up into the comfort of your bed, your dreams were full of him, but which one of him you could not recall.

Maybe one of them dreamed of you too.

a/n:

Well, this certainly is a chapter that exists. I’m not sure if anyone was actually waiting with bated breath for the next chapter of this fic but if you were IM SORRY it took so long. I lost motivation when it got to the dart scene because I didn’t know how to write a dart scene because I do not in fact know how to actually play darts. So apologies if the writing quality drastically went down during that. Anyways, if anyone has any good writing tips for stuff I could use instead of repeating shit like “he grinned” or “she chuckled” that would be much obliged.

And yes, I do in fact headcanon that Jinx/Powder would FIEND for a good shirley temple.

Anyways, thanks for reading xoxox kiss kiss mwuah.

[honey-tongued-devil]

▶[Arcane preference] reacting to you wearing their clothes [Jayce, Viktor, Ekko, Vander, Silco, Jinx, Vi, Caitlyn, Mel, Sevika, ]

If you know me, hello little deers, I'm back! If you don’t know me, welcome! Just a heads-up that I don’t use "Y/N," but rather the impersonal "you," and even though I talk about clothes, no sizes or weight are involved. Enjoy the read!

Jayce:

  - It’s not that rare when you’re together; he’s a real gentleman through and through. If it’s cold, he’ll give you his jacket, his scarf, anything to keep you warm  

  - But when you’re the one taking his clothes, it’s different  

  - When he sees you walking around the room in his shirt, just after waking up, something in his brain malfunctions  

  - It’s how it fits you, no matter how big or long it is, it seems like it was made just for you, to give you that look  

  - And to him, it feels like some kind of subliminal ad, as if the universe is making you so attractive in the simplicity of that gesture just to tell him he needs to hurry up and put a ring on your finger so he can enjoy that sight every day  

  - It’s hard for you to get anything done in the morning when he wakes up with those thoughts  

  - Those are the days when you stay in bed, cuddling under the covers, with him looking at you, hand on his cheek, getting more lost in you by the second  

Viktor:

  - For Viktor, the idea of a “little thief stealing his clothes” is an interesting one  

  - He’s never been a fan of tight-fitting clothes, plus, with his physique, it’s rare for anything to fit snugly anyway  

  - That’s why, except for his Academy uniform, the rest of his clothes are comfortable and at least two sizes too big for him, without mentioning Jayce's oversize ones in his closet  

  - What Viktor didn’t expect was that, once you started liking them, you’d just take them straight out of his drawer  

  - The first time he knocked on your door to ask if you’d seen his shirt —the very one you were wearing— he first stopped, confused, wondering how it had ended up on you  

  - And then, though he didn’t show it, he paused to notice with satisfaction how well it wrapped around your body  

  - Sometimes he pretends to forget his clothes at your place, just to see them on you, and to get them back with your scent on them  

  - For the nights when he feels lonelier  

Ekko: 

  - Communism  

  - There’s not really a strong sense of what belongs to whom at the Tree, although some clothes (jackets in particular) eventually get so personalized that no one dares to take them anymore  

  - The first time you grabbed Ekko’s jacket, it was simply because you were freezing, it was really cold, and he was resting, so he didn’t need it  

  - But when he saw you wearing it, his pupils dilated so much you could notice it despite his very dark eyes  

  - Ever since then, it’s him who gives it to you and insists that you wear it, because he likes it: there’s something extremely intimate and deeply personal about walking around with you in his jacket  

  - It’s like marking you as his, but really, also reminding himself of it  

  - And Ekko may be proud, but one thing you quickly and painfully learn in the alleys is to say ‘I love you’ before it’s too late, and that small possessive gesture makes him feel fulfilled because it’s like he’s telling everyone that he couldn’t live without you 

 

Vander:

  - Vander’s clothes have this super-secret ability to change depending on who’s wearing them. For example, what are shirts on him turn into dresses on you  

  - When you put them on, even just for the sake of convenience, you find yourself laughing in front of every mirror you pass by  

  - And if he notices, he can’t help but hug you from behind, leaning down to rub his nose against your neck, smiling against your skin  

  - “You know,” he says every single time, “it looks better on you than it does on me,” and no matter how false it might be, in his eyes, it’s truer than almost anything else  

  - After seeing you a few times in his grown-up man's clothes, he decided to dig through an old box to find the clothes from when he was younger and mend them before leaving them folded on your side of the bed, like a little gift  

Silco:

  - Silco’s strangest habit was the connection he had with his clothes: they looked like Piltover garments, except for the boots and the shirt under the velvet vest, yet they were torn, poorly mended, and worn out in several places  

  - Despite being the richest man in the undercity, he never changed them  

  - The only newer piece in his wardrobe that he used to wear was his coat, which was in perfect condition, scented with cologne, and lined with soft velvet that followed the direction of your fingers when you touched it  

  - Sure, there were ceremonial outfits, pajamas, and something comfortable yet always elegant, but he had worn them so little that they almost didn’t seem like his  

  - That’s why one day you simply decided you were bored, and while he was in a meeting, you could take the opportunity to try on the ones that fit you  

  - But that little fashion show from his wardrobe to the mirror probably took longer than expected, and definitely you were too focused, because you didn’t notice the tall figure watching you, leaning against the doorframe  

  - “Don’t take that off, I’ve got an idea or two,” his voice broke the silence, making you jump  

Jinx:

  - Her clothes are more like a flea market than a wardrobe: there are men’s clothes, women’s clothes, from Piltover and Zaun, intact, held together by metal staples, clean, splattered with paint, torn from explosions, some so small you wonder who they could even fit, and some so large that you and at least four of her father’s henchmen could comfortably fit in them with room to spare  

  - She’s the one who tells you to grab something from the pile the first time you ask to help her with her calculations and experiments, and in the end, you choose something comfortable rather than something intact or clean  

  - It took her a good half hour to notice, and then another hour to stop talking about it  

  - It was something she hadn’t done since she had a family, sharing clothes with someone else, and suddenly she realized just how much she missed it  

  - Every now and then, she’d give you oversized shirts on purpose, just to disappear under the fabric and snuggle up to you, where she felt sheltered enough to feel less vulnerable  

Vi:

  - Vi’s mentality was interesting because, by accident, if she noticed you were eyeing someone’s clothes with interest, somehow the next day those clothes would end up on your bed  

  - Vi would do anything for you; if it were up to her, you’d be dressed in pearls and gold, but neither the place nor her situation allowed it  

  - That’s why she never offered you her clothes: the older ones were tattered, barely definable as rags, which she stubbornly patched up every month  

  - The new ones were stolen, spoils from street fights, but they always came in looking battered and worn, or worse, stained with blood or strange substances, so they weren’t good for you  

  - When she saw you wearing a sweater from her wardrobe, stained and burned in spots, the first thing she felt was guilt  

  - She hated not being able to treat you the way she wanted to  

  - But from that day on, she made sure to at least wash her clothes before putting them away, and slowly she learned to love the clothes you stole a little more than the others  

  - That sweater, for example, she would defend it with her life  

Caitlyn:

  - Whenever you stayed over at her place, she always made sure to provide everything for you: slippers, socks, pajamas, anything you might need  

  - And it was always the highest quality you had ever seen  

  - So seeing you in her clothes wasn’t new, although she sometimes liked to have you try on things she didn’t wear anymore, partly because she couldn’t due to her important name, and partly because she spent half her time in uniform  

  - Those little fashion shows almost always ended with her on top of you, while you are very busy figuring out how to stay quiet so none of the servants, or worse, her parents, would catch you  

  - It didn’t matter if the clothes didn’t suit you, being able to see you in so many different lights made her fall even more in love with everything about you  

  - The final blow? One day she decided to look through the enforcers’ uniforms to find one that would fit you, and for the first time, she saw you in clothes that matched hers  

  - There was something about it that made her hope that uniform would change the chemistry of your brain too and make you join the force, just so she could spend more time with you, just so she could see you like that more often  

Mel:

  - For Mel, it wasn’t an event: she was used to everything, mastering her emotions, and seeing you wearing something of hers had only left her confused for a second, from which she quickly recovered, smiling at you  

  - “It looks really good on you, you know?” she had asked  

  - It didn’t bother her. Objectively, you seemed stupid borrowing those elegant clothes tailored exactly to her body  

  - It almost felt like heresy to wear the clothes of a goddess-like figure. But the goddess had sensed something, and she began buying and commissioning outfits for both you and her, matching, so you wouldn’t feel like you were missing something  

  - But there was one moment, a specific one, where seeing you in one of her dresses had left her speechless  

  - When you told her that the sweater was so beautiful it was almost a shame knowing she couldn’t wear it on the day you’d marry her  

  - And Mel Medarda came from a land of war, where it was hard to get attached to people, let alone objects  

  - Yet from that day, that piece of clothing became a constant for her, even if it meant layering or pulling it down to keep her shoulders bare  

  - Because it no longer just warmed her skin; it began to warm something deeper, something she hadn’t even realized she had  

Sevika:

  - Her clothes reflected her line of work: dirty, unpleasant, dangerous  

  - But despite that, she would drape them over you herself, no matter how worn they were: if she thought you might be cold, without a word, you’d find a sweater or hoodie on your shoulders  

  - And even though she’d glance at you from the corner of her eye, she wouldn’t stop watching you for a single moment when you wore something of hers  

  - It was a matter of homeland—there was no ownership in Zaun, not even last names, as even the family you belonged to was irrelevant compared to what you could do  

  - And the gangs, thugs, and troublemakers wouldn’t hesitate to steal what was yours  

  - But you were hers, and you couldn’t be stolen. And that shirt was hers, but she didn’t feel mutilated, like she normally would, when you wore it  

  - In fact, she loved it, opening her arms to invite you to snuggle up, holding you carefully so the prosthetic wouldn’t bother you, adjusting the clothing on you ten, a hundred times, almost unconsciously  

  - And when you wore her clothes, it felt like for a little while, you could wear her skin too, to understand her better, and she suddenly seemed more vulnerable  

[narxcisse]

★ — Leaving them hickeys

With: Viktor, Jayce, Mel, Vi, Caitlyn, Ambessa, Silco, Vander and Sevika

CW: suggestive, hickeys, s1

English isn't my native language / Reverse Ver.!

— VIKTOR

He is a mix of bashful and pleased. When you kiss and nip at his neck, he goes still, cheeks flushed as a soft, breathy chuckle escapes.

"You...really like marking me, don't you?" He tries to act unfazed, but when he looks in a mirror later and spots the darkening bruise, his fingers ghost over it.

He'd cover it with a scarf or high collar in public but secretly loves that you left your mark. It's a rare indulgence that makes him feel wanted.

— JAYCE

He leans into it and lets you do whatever you want, practically purring under your touch.

"You just can't keep your hands off me, huh?" He smirks, wrapping an arm around your waist as you kiss him.

He flaunts the marks with pride. If someone notices, he grins wider. "Oh, that? Yeah, my partner's got good aim."

— MEL

She doesn't stop you; she tilts her head to give you better access, enjoying the sensation as your lips press against her golden skin.

"Careful, darling," she murmurs, her voice smooth as silk. "You'll leave evidence of your affection."

She wears her hickeys like jewelry, unbothered by anyone's reactions, because who would dare question her?

— VI

She pretends to complain. She'll huff as your teeth scrape her skin, but she's grinning the whole time.

"Really? You're leaving me looking like I lost a fight?" She teases but tilts her head anyway.

She wears the marks like trophies. "Yeah, my partner did that. What about it?" If someone stares too long, they might catch her smirking.

— CAITLYN

She gets flustered. She tries to keep her composure as you kiss along her neck, but her blush gives her away.

"Are you... trying to make this harder to hide?" She scolds, though her voice is shaky.

Later, she's wearing a high collar. When Vi notices and teases her, Caitlyn glares but secretly feels proud.

— AMBESSA

She chuckles lowly, utterly amused by your boldness. She lets you have your way, resting a heavy hand on your back.

"Is this your way of staking a claim?" she asks with a smirk, tilting her neck for better access.

She wears the marks unapologetically, daring anyone to comment. She admires your daring streak and rewards you for it later.

— SILCO

His sharp intake of breath is the only indication you've caught him off guard. He doesn't stop you, but his hand tightens on your hip.

"Bold," he mutters, his gravelly voice filled with amusement. "Do you think this will deter anyone?"

He hides the marks beneath his collar but touches them absently, conflicted between annoyance and smug satisfaction.

— VANDER

He laughs softly, a warm rumble from deep in his chest as you leave your mark on him.

"You're enjoying this a little too much," he teases, cupping your face to kiss you.

He's not embarrassed about the marks and won't bother covering them. If someone comments, he just grins. "What can I say? My partner's passionate."

— SEVIKA

She smirks, tugging you closer as your lips graze her neck.

"Careful, sweetheart," she growls softly. "I might start thinking you're obsessed with me."

She doesn't cover the marks, wearing them like a badge of honor. If anyone so much as raises an eyebrow, she gives them a warning glare.