#silco/viktor

[goorehound]

Silco x Viktor -Hypoxic

Warning : PTSD, drowning

Rating : 18+

When reminiscing, Silco liked to think of the peace that water brought. Of the death and rebirth, the weightlessness. It was an optimistic perspective he had taken to dull the gritty truth of the matter. It was a way to wrap it up in a neat little package, to frame it as an experience that shaped him into who he was.

It was an easy way to shy away from the abject terror.

The desperation that came with looking into the face of one you had cherished most in the world, and knowing if you did not run you would cease to exist. There was a specific brand of dread that had sewn itself into his very being when he’d fought against the current, throwing all his worth into his attempt to flee. Frozen in horror when a large hand grasped him firmly, and he realized he was outmatched.

He could not run. He had naught the strength to fight back. There was no moment to even speak, just a split second where eyes met and he pleaded silently. The world was swiftly muffled, blurred before him. Calloused palms scrambled around his shoulders until they found a hold around his neck, and no amount of thrashing could knock them off.

No kicking, no clawing, no prying. They held steadfast. And there was this nagging disbelief, for long and drawn out moments. His brain failing to accept the reality of the situation for what it was. His body was convulsing in a disorganized rhythm, now.

Just fight a little harder, his brain informed him calmly. You will be fine, you just have to fight a little harder.

He did. He fought. Nothing changed, he was growing weaker, but his brain persisted on and on. All he had to do was muster his strength, and he was going to be fine. Just a little harder, just one last burst of energy and he would break free.

He didn’t.

That certainty vanished as quickly as it had appeared, and his thoughts were scrambling faster than he could cling to them. His vision was hazing around the edges, and Vander was going to kill him if he did not act quickly. The cold was seeping in, deep within his bones. He was cold in a way he had never once been before.

An idea sprung, if he went still the hands would relent. If he played along, if he faked unconsciousness, he would have a moment to reach for the knife that Vander always kept in the same spot. In a list ditch effort, that is what he did.

His body went limp, waiting just a moment before his fingers stretched almost past their limits, reaching for the handle.

It wasn’t there. Why wasn’t it there? Where was the knife? Why was Vander not letting go? Where was the fucking knife?

The panic set in earnestly, hands coming to grab and pry at Vander’s wrists, staring up through the muggy water at the visage of his friend. With weak and shaking hands, he tapped at the large hands around his throat. Tap, tap, tapping away, as if professing that he gave up. That he was too weak. Vander won.

Please. You’ve won. Please, let me up. Pull me up. I can’t breathe. Not you, please, don’t let it be you.

But they did not relent. They did not loosen. And he was dying. He would not change, he would not be reborn, he would die at the hands of his most trusted. And he would never get a chance at revenge.

Then, all at once, he was pushing himself above the surface. Disoriented and gasping for air, flailing to remove the hands that - well. That had apparently disappeared, that were no longer pinning him down. Lungs heaved in in gulps, attempting to provide his brain with enough oxygen that the world would stop spinning around him. He tried to get his wits about him, blinking through the darkness.

He was alive. He was cold. He was shaking. But, he was not drenched. His fingers still prickled and tingled, along with his face, from a lack of breathing - yet he was alive. Where was Vander?

At that moment, a hand reached out to his bicep to curl around it. In his alarm, he jerked back to put some space between himself and the offending grasp, snarling and braced to protect his life.

But he was met with honey eyes filled with a blatant concern, a mess of brown hair and a crooked, thin nose. Nothing like the big brute who had just - who had..

Oh, Janna, he’d had a nightmare.

With that, he behaved like a puppet with all its strings snapped. Slumping and dropping his head to continue steadying his breath, his body still quaked and twitched but he was no longer on the defensive. No longer anticipating big hands appearing out of the darkness of his room.

Because he was in his bedroom, Vander was dead. The only hands that would dare to reach for him were Viktor’s, ever gentle Viktor. Thin and nimble grip, and never oppressive. Silco was a changed man, he had been reborn, he kept a close eye on Viktor. The man could not overpower him.

“Silco?”

He wished the room had remained silent. “My apologies.” The breathless tone of his voice was pathetic. “Did I wake you?”

“No, no. You did not wake me.” Viktor leaned to sit up properly, but did not attempt to bridge the gap between them any further. He made a valiant effort to pretend he was not eyeing Silco like some unpredictable street mutt, who may snap off a finger if Viktor approached incorrectly.

It would be amusing, tomorrow.

Tonight, he stared unblinkingly at that expression. “Liar.” He accused without malice, trailing a slow eye over the dim details of Viktor’s face. The silence was thick between them for a long while, until Silco’s chest began to rise in fall at an average pace. The sweat began to dry on his skin.

Quietly, slowly, he cradled Viktor’s hands in his own. Fingers roaming over knuckles, smoothing across palms, closing around his wrists in a loose grip. He brought those delicate, kind, loving hands upwards. Around his throat, in a sick recreation of the last hands he had allowed himself to trust.

This was a challenge that Viktor was ill-equipped for, looking as lost as Silco looked determined.

Viktor was not a fool. The half asleep mumbling, the urgency in which Silco had grasped his own throat after bolting awake, the context clues were glaring. He did not know for sure, but he did not think that dream had been conjured from anything but memories.

“I wouldn’t.” Viktor spoke quietly, and Silco pushed his wrists more insistently against his throat. Enough that Viktor felt some give beneath his palms, and he flinched back when the pulse point beneath them started clenching faster and faster. But Silco did not give in, holding Viktor’s hands steadfast against his throat.

“You would.” Silco leaned closer, cataloguing him carefully. To Viktor, he looked almost undone. “If I gave you reason.”

At that, Viktor’s eyes softened greatly. Using the position to his advantage, he started to stroke delicately along the skin beneath his fingers, thumbs using Silco’s jaw to guide their path. “You wouldn’t.” He told Silco with such a certainty, gaze holding him in place before their foreheads were rested together.

The exhaustion caught up with Silco in that moment, a comfort he didn’t know he had been asking for washing over him in a soothing wave. He clung to Viktor’s frame, reeling him in until they were curled around each other, entangled in the sheets.

A dangerous thought sprout up.

Viktor wouldn’t. Anybody else could, but him? He wouldn’t do that to Silco, even if the opportunity was given on a silver platter.

[theofaron]

Sometimes you can just fuck a guy in the arcane and thats all he needs

[vale-river]

Some notes I'd like to add to my "sex worker Viktor" au that I wrote (linked in my previous post if anyone's interested and hasn't seen it), because as much as I like it, I don't think I'll write more for it. If anything, I'll write a second part in Viktor's POV, but that's it.

Anyone can go ahead and use these ideas if they'd like to add to this au, I made it for fun, not to hoard it, lol.

-~-~-~-~-

- I firmly believe that Viktor has decent upper body strength to help him as a disabled person navigating the maze that is Zaun, and pole dancing probably really helps with that, he’s just really lean and doesn’t look muscley at all.

- Maybe the added exercise could even benefit his health a bit? Who knows.

- He started working at Babette’s to help save up and pay for Academy tuition, and loved the work enough to continue working there even after getting into school.

- Margot buys him (Timeline-wise, around when he starts working as Heimerdinger’s assistant maybe?) and works out a deal with him so he can still attend the Academy, but he works for her on weekends.

- He prefers private dances and normal sex work, but Margot has him do stage performances.

- He’s good at it, he just doesn’t like it.

- Silco and Viktor are obsessed with one another after their first meeting.

- Silco buys Viktor strictly because he doesn’t want anyone else touching him, and when Viktor isn’t at the Academy, he’s always in Silco’s line of sight.

- Viktor probably still works for Margot under Silco's supervision, maybe, he’s just only allowed to be touched by Silco.

- Viktor gets to work on inventions that benefit Zaun with Silco, so he considers the whole arrangement a luxury.

- When Silco takes in Jinx, she and Viktor get along well.

- She follows him around like a little duckling.

- Viktor teaches her sciencey stuff and helps her with her inventions.

- He also teaches her how to pole dance, not in a sexual way, but as a form of stress relief or something along those lines.

Songs that remind me of Silco and Viktor so far in this:

- Porn Star Dancing - My Darkest Days

- Stuck - 30 Seconds to Mars

- I Wanna Be Your Slave - Måneskin (My absolute favorite!)

[adactaaries]

Okay let me add my five cents to the Zaunite au, where Viktor didn’t make it to the academy and remained in Zaun.

He was trying to invent on his own, but he desperately needed money for his research. And that’s when Silco appeared…

[her-soliloquies]

They really gave us everything though: old gay dads, cool straight (?) couple, badass lesbians, gay (temporary) rivals

+

bonus: jayvik together for eternity

I would be beaming from ear to ear if I wasn't so depressed about arcane being over for good

[floelu]

love this show

[scampdoodle]

Some Zaunite Viktor and academy Jayce

[murffish]

they were a family your honour

[tiredcupofangry]

Yes hurt me more....

I think I need a month out of work for this to sink in...

[bluestrawberry7]

I will not be taking criticism thanks

[goorehound]

Viktor / Silco - Glow

ao3

Rating: 18+. Not explicit but hinted NSFW.

warning: description of Viktor’s body may be uncomfortable for those with body image issues, it is described to emphasize his illness. But please take care of yourself and don’t read on if that could be upsetting <3

Summary:

Silco’s early morning contemplating while Viktor sleeps on.

The light peeking through opened curtains, speckled with dust, poured over the slumbering figure across from him. Silco dared not move lest he disturb the glow casting across the pale expanse of skin, illuminating the harsh edges of a too thin frame. The curve of a small waist, a knobbed and crooked spine. Breaths shallow and occasionally halting, ribs inflating to offer extra space for battered lungs to draw in the air. He seemed fragile in this lighting, frail in a way Silco knew he would be ashamed of.

When he reached up to allow himself a touch he was given pause, the stark dichotomy between the shadow of his hand and the ethereal form it leaked upon. The illumination interrupted, unkind hands polluting the beautiful scene before him. He was overcome with the want to wrap Viktor further up in the shadows, cover him until every inch was shielded from the sun and replaced by a Silco’s vast darkness. To refuse to acknowledge how strongly Viktor belonged to the light, to drag him down into the depths alongside. To hold him. To keep him. To dig his nails in like some snarling, feral thing that did not want to share its capture.

Perhaps, if he shrouded Viktor in the shadows, he may forget the touch of the sun. He may be happy to fester beside him, until their inevitable ends. Perhaps he could keep this glow all to himself, and cradle it in his filthy, greedy palms. And perhaps, when he woke, Viktor would not venture back up above the smog to continue his life beneath the rays.

How poetic, Silco mused to himself as he finally closed the distance. Tips of fingers tracing lightly over those dastardly vertebrae, watching the body shift underneath the ghostly touches as he moved his outstretched hand along the length of Viktor’s side. Their destination ending to perfectly slot against light, finger shaped bruises around his hip. A brush of lips over a sharp shoulder blade in apology, only to be met with a resounding sigh.

“It is early.” A muffled voice complained, and Silco was helpless to resist a smile when the lithe body squirmed back to meet him. “Go to sleep.”

Silco gathered Viktor in his arms, now that it had been silently demanded of him, something pleased unfurling in his chest as he blocked the warm lighting from meeting that skin any longer. And it had been at Viktor’s insistence. He offered an appeasing hum, even as he propped himself further up on an elbow. With one arm supporting his weight, the other continued its exploration, starting at the worryingly concave space below where ribs met. Then, upwards, to rest over a beating heart.

Silco’s crooked nose ended up behind a soft ear, but was slowly dislodged as the man beneath him turned. Bleary eyes wavered on Silco’s face, ever the slowest to wake up. Groggy, comfortable, sated. It was a pleasing sight, even as those arched brows furrowed up at him.

“You are thinking too much.” Viktor insisted hoarsely, nimble hand stroking over a scarred cheek in an attempt to draw him down into a chaste kiss. And who was Silco to deny? Especially when his lips met a pliant mouth, still sluggish from his slumber. They may have been kissing for mere moments, perhaps hours, it was impossible to tell. But they did eventually part in spite of Silco’s reluctance, and Viktor shoved his head forcefully into his collarbone. Enough to convince him to lay on his back so he could be clung to, receiving the treatment of a living body pillow.

“Sleep.” Viktor commanded, and it could have held much more weight had his mouth not been smothered awkwardly against Silco’s chest. He did not call him on it, and let his eyes slide shut to avoid any further nagging - content to bask in the moment until sleep did eventually come to claim him as well. Soothed by the gentle snores that had started up beneath his chin, lulled into a light nap.

[theofaron]

working on some refs for viktor and Silco in our au

they hold hands

[vale-river]

Any SilVik fans out there? I wrote a little something for you guys 😉

-~-~-~-~-~-

Porn Star Dancing

Viktor is a new worker at Margot's new strip club and Silco's lucky enough to watch him dance.

-~-~-~-~-~-

Inspired by Porn Star Dancing by My Darkest Days. While writing I realized Stuck by Thirty Seconds to Mars kinda fits the vibes too.

Posted anonymously because I'm a coward 👌

[caitlynbuceta]

ᓚ₍ ^. .^₎

[instantchaossweets]

[phantom-palace]

sitting here… mute as fuck..