The water quietly coated your body in a warm embrace, the sound of it fluttering and whispering comfort to your drained flesh. The pure drips shaded by your blood, furious red slipping into the poise bath like sour wine. With your eyelashes low, you gaped absently at the water with your mind numb and your senses tamed into an awake slumber. Your body was heavy and floated at the bottom of the bathtub’s curve as a gentle hand lifted your still arm over the edge. Frigid fingertips brushed over your skin in a breath of a touch as he slowly glided a soaked cloth over your wounds.
“You fought well.” his voice rolled in your ears as a soft lullaby, consoling yet unbelievable.
“Not well enough.” you whispered with your mouth too slothful to move, cuts stinging deep inside the sensitive flesh.
Silco’s brows pinched together as his gaze lifted upon your face, his gleaming eye breaking through the dim and stiff light.
“Pity won’t bring relief.” he nearly scolded, but his tone remained mild, quiet, only for you.
He continued cleaning your arm with careful gestures, blood smearing and staining your skin to then slowly fade into the cloth, absorbing your pain.
“I’m hideous now.” the words pushed past your teeth almost as a cry, the sight of your body clothed in wounds, bruises and blood repulsing you.
“You’re not.” he replied while his slim hands wandered to your face, fingers tilting your chin towards him as he slowly cleaned the path of blood sinking down from your temple. A wince tugged on your features when the cloth stung the vulnerable blotch, and he cooed through his lips in consolation.
“Scars never punish us.”
His eyes locked on yours with his face engraved by cruel blemishes.
You sighed and looked down while his hands slid to your bare back, slowly posing you up with a murmur of water swirling around you. He stared at your glistening skin drenched by drops and the dark shadows of your bruises, seeing the pain left in your body, his face tightened in loathing at the thought of someone harming you.
He smoothly led the cloth over your body, stroking your back up and down to the base of it underwater, letting his hand and the sleeve of his shirt get wet. His touch remained gentle, his hands almost hovering over you as he didn't want to hurt you. His touch felt caring, kind and healing as if he wanted to ensure that you knew nothing but love.
The cloth travelled to your shoulders, washing your flesh from the damage and marks left by filthy hands that didn't belong to him, that didn't touch you with the devotion you deserved. The sigh you let out, along with your body easing, let him understand that it was working. With a subtle curl of his thin lips, his gaze trailed over your naked form, appreciation and adoration waking on his face. The cloth he held rolled over the rest of your body, touching your neck, chest, thighs, arms, everything he could reach, enjoying the softness and tenderness of your flesh along with the quiet peals you let out under his touch, your breaths and the way your body curved into him.
He put the cloth away, his hands craving to feel you raw. His fingers cradled your cheeks with care that wouldn't belong to a man like him. Yet, it felt wrong to touch you in any other way. Your fatigued yet loving eyes settled on his face, making his heart tremble as he caught the lingering bruises visible. His sharp thumb brushed against your flush, innocent skin in a cautious caress. Your eyelashes fell closed, and you leaned more into his trace like the wounded pup you were.
“You’re beautiful.” he whispered into the silent air as his lips inched closer and bestowed yours a delicate kiss.
Summary: Silco, the Eye of Zaun, the Industrialist, was first and foremost a son of Zaun who wanted his motherland free. After an altercation in which his adopted daughter shot him in a fit of rage, he is left dying while the world goes on without him. His life's work and ideals soon trampled to nothing as his memory fades from the world. But what if he was saved?
Warnings: Violence, spoilers for Arcane season 2
Fix it fic following Canon! Silco x Reader who saves him from imminent death
(Still taking silco requests, really easy rules in my profile)
PANTIE THIEF – SILCO/READER
WARNINGS: SILCO STEALING UNDERWARE LIKE A CREEP, ALCOHOL. 💖
Silco would'nt indulge anyone else like this. He would'nt allow any of his men the pleasure of getting wasted at the expense of his alcohol; and he wouldn't have the decency to take care of anyone else but you. Like Jinx, you had managed to slip undetected through his carefully constructed defenses all the way into his heart; and now, Silco finds himself carrying an armfull of a very drunk woman up the stairs towards his bedroom.
The two of you aren't together. Yet. Though Silco is perfectly aware of his feelings towards you, and he trusts you as much as he thinks he is able to trust anyone at this point in his life, he is still somewhat hesitant to make a move. Both because he isn't sure about your own feelings towards him and because he doesn't really... He doesn't really do this. Date –more than a casual fuck–. Have a partner. He doesn't like stepping into the unknown; so he's got no rush.
It's still clear the relationship between you isn't exactly just friendly. There's this energy simmering below the surface; this... carefull expectancy. Rumours, too; as Silco's behaviour around you hasn't been unnoticed either. It can't be; for the second time this month, he's carrying you like a ragdoll up to his bedroom, grunting under his breath at the effort of climbing the creaky stairs with the aditional weight on his knees.
As soon as he sets you down on his bed, you start clawing your clothes off; a task amusingly difficult for your half sleeping, half drunk state. Silco tries not to watch your grumpy effort to get under the soft covers; but it's not an easy thing to do. He's hard –the first glimpse of your smooth naked skin already enough– and he's atracted to you. And you're now completely naked in his bed, twisting around so that you can sink your face into the pillow and inhale. You mumble and sigh, muscles relaxing under the covers, and Silco throbs at the knowledge that is his scent what caused that. Or a promise of a good night's rest.
You fall asleep, and Silco lingers in the bedroom picking up the disaray of your clothes from the floor and putting them into a pile to ease the headache you'll surely have tomorrow. He hovers in place when his fingers close around a black, lacy, pantie; groaning at the thought of seeing you in it. It's almost too pretty to belong to the Underground. He wonders if you only use it on special ocasions –he doubts it's comfortable to wear in any of your spy misions–; and if that's the case, why is he the only man to be lucky to see it. Perhaps you really weren't waiting for anyone else.
He's not proud of it –he doesn't feel guilty either, though, after all, you're invading his space– but he takes it. He pushes it into the safe private darkness of his pocket and leaves the room, resigned to spend the night twisting around in the sofa of his office.
The pounding headache you wake up with the next day quickly reminds you of the –admitedly– too large amount of alcohol you had ingested the night before. You groan all the way through getting dressed, frowning at not finding your underware but too tired to worry about it. You exchange a few words with Silco on your way out –relieved and gratefull that he had been considerate enough to let you crash in his private rooms once again and mortified at the same time–, and return home to shower and go about your day.
You find out all about the dissapearance of the one particular item of your clothing a few days after that. It's just another working day, and you're leaving a stack of business papers on the drawer of Silco's desk when a bunch of suspicously familiar lace calls your attention. Surprised and confused, you grab the fabric and examin it; confirming your initial suspition. It is your pantie. What the hell is Silco doing with this?
As if summoned by your thoughts, Silco chooses that exact moment to pop out of his bedroom, walking down the stairs towards his office in a dark wine red shirt that makes your mouth water. His eyes –still holding a trace of sleep–, inmediately fall upon you; eyebrow silently arching in question at your unexpected visit.
You raise up your hand to show him your discovery with an expectant pop of your hip to the side. Silco's expresion morphs from surprise to recognition to a sort of careless guiltiness. He shrugs as if this were a daily occurence –and a totally normal thing– and you can't help but laugh.
"You fuckin' sociopath" you chuckle while he approaches you. "I was wondering where the hell did my underware go".
Silco stops right in front of you and hums uncomitedly.
"You have a tendency of getting naked when drunk, it seems" he replies with a deep, calm tone.
You tilt your head to study him.
"If you liked me, you could have just told me, you know" you decide to risk it, though you hate to be vulnerable. "Surely it isn't a secret I have a crush on you by now".
Silco can't mask the sincere surprise that travels through his face quick enough. He smirks, then, a single side tug of his lips that shouldn't look that attractive –but it does–.
"I see" his eyes roam through your figure in a sugestive way with undeniable interest. "Come back to my office after work then, darling, and I shall compensate you for my cruel robbery".
The promise of a good time with this man sends a rush of excitement through your veins; and you give him a single firm nod with a victorious grin on your face.
If you prefer to read on Ao3, you can find the fic here!
Word Count: 8k
Summary: In Zaun, it’s kill or be killed. Take or be taken from. Get up or stay down and expect to die. But for some reason, the brothers working The Last Drop aren’t like the rest of the city, and you don’t understand why.
Reader uses they/them pronouns.
The bones of your knuckles jerked painfully when they collided hard with the Enforcer’s jaw. You heard and felt the hinge of his jaw joint crack and pop as the blow dislocated it. The man howled, hands dropping his gun to fly up to cradle his limply hanging mouth.
He left his side open, so you took the opportunity and drove your knee up and into it. The breath punched from his lungs. His lower jaw swung up from the force of the blow and slammed his teeth deep into his tongue. Blood sprayed across the alley wall.
He dropped to his knees, wheezing and groaning, beside his companions. Two more Enforcers, bleeding out from stab wounds, one with your knife still driven deep into his belly. Leaving it embedded there would give him more time to be saved. But your own world was also spinning too fast for you to stoop and tug it free.
Across from you, Sevika finished up with her own Enforcer, and annoyingly looked to be in much better shape than you. That was probably because she did the whole fighting thing as a job, whilst you merely stumbled through poorly memorised moves in a desperate attempt to keep on breathing.
“You good over there, Runt?” She called, before spitting out a glob of red phlegm.
You wrinkled your nose at her. “Fine.” You returned simply, refusing to admit that your stomach was killing you. The moment the last Enforcer had gone down, you’d wrapped your arm tightly across it, feeling the familiar burn of a stab wound shift under the pressure. The blade hadn’t been very long, so you were fairly certain you’d be fine anyway.
“Good.” Sevika continued, “I don’t want to waste time dragging you to a healer.” She glanced up and down the alley for effect. “This was fun, same time next week?”
“Only if we meet somewhere warm where Enforcers won’t decide to take a swing at us.” You argued, to which she huffed a humourless laugh out of her nose.
Where Sevika revelled in violence, you preferred to avoid it where you could. Medical supplies were expensive, even on this side of the river after all; crappy as they were.
“Noted. See you around, Runt.” She saluted you, before she turned sharply on her heel and began striding away. “Don’t linger.” She added over her shoulder, “when they don’t return home on time, more will come.”
“I know!” You snapped back, but she was already gone.
Huffing out a tired breath, you turned to take the opposite exit out of the alleyway. Every step was agony, but you were of the stubborn sort. And dying here wasn’t an option.
The streets passed by in a blur of green lights and quiet chatter once you slipped out of the alley. It was late enough that all but the red light district were beginning to close their storefronts for the night.
You tried to straighten up once you entered your neighbourhood. Aware of the thugs that lurked around these parts. Any signs of injury or weakness, was a sure fire way to end up backed into a second alley to be shaken down of anything valuable.
You were planning to return to your place, tucked above the sushi bar. To the quiet, one room apartment that housed your mattress on the floor and a small box of personal items. But then you caught a whiff of something delicious smelling wafting out of the ajar door of The Last Drop, and all thoughts of sleep and patching yourself up swiftly took a backseat. There was nothing more miserable than laying in bed, injured and hungry after all.
The establishment was quiet at this time of night, but no less welcoming. Vander just had that effect on people though. He was an oddity in Zaun. Kind, where most were brittle and suspicious. Warm, where he should be defensive and distant.
Despite hardly knowing you outside of a strict bartender and client relationship, he always welcomed you into his establishment regardless of the hour or the state you were in. It was almost guaranteed that he would offer up a warm bowl of leftovers from the kitchen, regardless of if you had coin on you or not.
So yeah, Vander was an oddity down here on this side of the river, but he was also a god sent.
Shouldering open the heavy door, the warmth of the quiet bar washed over you, like a tender hand pushing your hair back from your face. For one blissful moment, the pain of your stomach and throbbing knuckles ebbed away to make room for the quiet lul of ‘Our Love’ playing softly on the jukebox in the back, and the smell of something hearty and homey drifting through the air, with only a slight undertone of stale alcohol.
Vander’s soothing voice called your name from behind the bar, a hand raised in greeting as if you wouldn’t see him amongst the empty tables and chairs and only two other people in the building. Backlit by the yellow overhead light, he looked genuinely happy to see you, which was also odd.
“About time you showed up,” Vander continued to speak in a cheerful tone, “I was beginning to think you’d finally curled up in an alley somewhere to die.”
You snorted, the sound obnoxious and loud against the soft melody of the music. Oh how close he was to being right.
“You wish.” You returned good naturedly. Arm still wrapped tightly over your bleeding stomach, you strode towards the bar.
Silco had his back to you as he scribbled in one of his notebooks, a sweating glass spreading condensation on the countertop before him. Whilst Felicia turned on her elbow to grin at you over her shoulder, her purple braid sliding off of her shoulder to hang down her back.
The sparkle in her eye had your hackles raising as they often did around her. She was a playful spirit, eager to poke and prod the bear to see how far she could push it before it snapped. It was unfortunate that more often than not you were the bear in almost every scenario.
“Oh great, your stray cat decided to wander home for dinner, Vander.” She mused, tone light and jolly despite her choice of words. “I hope you’ve got something left over.”
You felt your expression tighten ever so subtly at the light jab. “Fuck you, Felicia.” You ground out with no real bite. A reflexive greeting at this point.
Her grin only grew, eyes practically lighting up with mirth.
“But you are kind of like a cat, aren’t you? Mangy little thing like you. Always getting into fights and hiding in dark corners. Sweet on one person in particular, or the guy offering you food.”
Okay, ouch, that was slightly sharper than usual.
And to top it off, Vander was merely watching the pair of you interact instead of playing referee like he usually would. Whereas Silco hadn’t even looked up from his notebook, his pencil still scratching away at whatever he was working on.
You fixed Felicia with an unimpressed glare, “you’re in a pleasant mood this evening? Something unpleasant crawl up your ass by any chance?”
With great care, you pulled the stool beside her out from under the counter, and clambered up onto it. The movement pulled at the split skin of your stomach and made the wound ooze, but you’d wandered around with worse in the past. This wasn’t the kind of injury that would knock you out any time soon, it was bleeding too sluggishly, and so long as you didn’t do anything stupid like running, it would keep until you trundled home with a full belly.
Felicia wrinkled her nose as you sat, eyes tracking your careful movements, but she did not comment. Stood behind her own stool, twirling the straw of a cup of orange juice, she suddenly broke eye contact.
Her previous bravado spluttered out as she absently muttered under her breath, “oh nothing. I just found out I’m pregnant is all.”
Your eyes promptly bugged out of your head at the casual admission. Any thoughts of wounds, and food promptly took a backseat, as you spun your stool to study your friend, and only then did you see the slant of her shoulders, the bravado that was just a touch too strong to be real.
“Oh shit-!” you blurted out, before the words promptly failed you. Scrambling for support, your eyes jumped across the bar, only to find that Vander had suddenly vanished into the back, and then to Silco at the other end of the counter, who was calmly sipping at his drink, expression carefully blank. Something about his calmness struck a nerve in you.
“You knew!?” You accused sharply, and his eyes widened in shock at suddenly being addressed.
He recovered quickly. “Oh don’t play up the wounded party, she told us just moments before you stumbled in the door.” He dropped his gaze, and began to stare at his notebook again. He didn’t pick up his pencil again, nor did he really begin reading over his notes. His eyes were stuck at one point on the page, instead of tracking along the lines of messy handwriting. Guilty. The actions read, and you felt yourself frown.
Felicia was back to grinning when you snapped your head back to her. “How far along are you?” You blurted. You didn’t know anything about kids, and had never been around a pregnant person before. Didn’t she need to sit down? Were pregnant people allowed to drink juice? Why wasn’t anyone freaking out?
Felicia snorted outright at your expression then, the sound helping to ground you.
“A couple of weeks, I think.” She said simply, “I was late this month, and low and behold, this is why.”
“Okay.” You said, and then blurted, like an idiot. “Are we keeping it?”
Felicia’s grin morphed into something gleeful and predatory. “We?” She parrotted back.
You backtracked like your life depended on it. “You!” You corrected, desperately schooling your expression into something smooth and calm - you knew you were failing. “Are you planning to keep it?”
Felicia’s smile did not change. “Don’t just dart away from that misstep,” she teased, “you do consider yourself our friend after all!”
It was an old argument. One where you stubbornly refused to admit that the trio had grown on you during your evenings spent here in their presence, and one that Felicia reveled in trying to prove you wrong with your own actions.
Like the time Vander cut his arm open on a broken bottle, and you’d stupidly turned up to the bar an hour later with a freshly stolen bottle of disinfectant from across the bridge. The good kind. The one that would’ve cost anyone their month’s salary to obtain.
Or the time, Felicia had fallen ill for several days, and you’d turned up to her door to ensure she hadn’t keeled over and died. To which she had mocked you viciously, between bouts of coughing under her partner’s exasperated gaze.
She was grinning even now as you disregarded her claim, and scrambled for an excuse. “I’m asking because I linger around this place too. And if I’m going to continue to exist in this place nine months from now, I have the right to know if little goblins are going to begin popping out of the woodwork.”
Silco huffed into his drink, but neither of you acknowledged him. Felicia only met your gaze with open fondness in her expression.
“Yes, I think I am keeping her.” She said absently, “though I haven’t told Connol yet.”
“Ah.”
“Yeah.”
The silence that momentarily sizzled between you was heavy. “Do you need some to go with you when you tell him?” You offered, like a dumbass. Stupidly showing your hand to her for the second time in one night.
To your surprise, the offer wasn’t met with amusement or ribbing. Felicia’s smile was suddenly small and genuine. “No, I’ll be okay.” She said simply.
And you nodded, because she would be. She had chosen a good man after all. Connol wouldn’t blow up about something like this. He was the quiet kind. And you knew he genuinely loved Felicia, simply from observing how the pair existed in each other's presence. No, she would be absolutely fine, you knew.
“Okay,” you relented easily, before adding, “but if you need someone to smack him upside the head, you know where to find me.”
She shook her head at that. “Uh, no, I don’t actually, because no one can ever pin you down, unless you’re here. And even then, your visits are too infrequent and far between, for me to predict when you’ll actually show up.”
It was your turn to grin then. “How else do you think I’ve survived this long?”
Vander chose then to duck out of the kitchen, a bowl of something steaming in one hand and a spoon in the other. “I’d like to think my hospitality and good cooking has helped you a little.” He joked, setting the bowl down before you with little flourish.
He must have seen the hunger in your gaze, because he didn’t even make you ask for it or to use your manners tonight. With little fanfare, he pushed the bowl towards you, set the spoon down, and then slid a napkin over.
You thanked him regardless, and eagerly dove in. The soup was warm as it went down, thick and flavourful, with carrot chunks breaking up the thick texture every now and again. The soothed the gnawing of your gut, and the warmth eased some of the pain of your muscles.
You were still bleeding sluggishly, but it didn’t hurt as bad as it had.
Vaguely, you could hear the other three falling back into easy conversation. They’d spent enough time in one another's company for it to be familiar. Between working elbow to elbow in the mines, and wasting their evenings away in the bar, you couldn’t exactly blame them.
Even Silco spoke up every now and again. Chipping in when the conversation lulled to jab playfully at Vander, or correct one of Felicia’s teasing remarks to make it land even a touch more effectively. They had a weird dynamic from an outside perspective, but after being slowly but gradually absorbed into their bubble over the past few months, you could see now how beautifully they worked together.
It kind of made you wonder where you fit into the jigsaw puzzle sometimes. You certainly weren’t around enough to be a reliable friend, which definitely played into Felicia’s stray cat analogy. But when you did turn up, sometimes after days or a week of no contact, they welcomed you back as if you’d never left. As if you just fit.
They were strange people really. And perhaps that was what had initially intrigued you enough to stick around in the beginning.
Your spoon scraped the bottom of the bowl, and you realised with a start that you had already eaten all of it. Gods did Vander make a mean soup, you would’ve gladly eaten another two bowls of it without complaint.
Setting your spoon down in the bowl, you quietly pushed both away, before dabbing at your mouth with the napkin. That too was deposited into the waiting bowl.
The warmth of the food and the calm of the atmosphere was definitely getting to you now. The soothing melody of ‘Our Love’ had trailed off somewhere during your conversation with Felicia, and had morphed into another slow, jazzy number. The combination of the music, the warmth, and the safety of having people you trusted only an arms breadth away, had your eyes dropping and your head slowly but surely dipping lower and lower towards the counter.
The other three were too engrossed in their conversation to pay much mind to you, which worked in your favour. Resting your arm on the counter, you allowed yourself to slowly slump forward, pressing your forehead down into your forearm as a makeshift pillow. Eyes slipping closed, you spared half a thought to tighten your other arm around your belly in a futile attempt to keep more of your blood inside. The pressure from your curled up position should stem the bleeding long enough for you to have a quick power nap, and then you could slip out to patch yourself up and have a proper, long sleep.
It was just too nice of an atmosphere to leave now.
Your eyelids slipped closed. You heard your bowl being taken away, heard glasses clink and the trio lower their voices even more. How considerate.
“Silco, give me your jacket.”
“Why my jacket? Use your jacket?”
A beat of silence.
“Do you see my jacket lying around anywhere?”
Quiet grumbling.
Soft footsteps, the rustling of fabric.
The sound of a boot stepping into a puddle.
The quiet conversation in the background abruptly cut off.
“Did someone spill their beer there earlier?” Vander’s voice filtered in amongst the fuzz of sleep. More rustling, the whisper of a washcloth being picked up.
The sound of boots squelching once more as their owner’s weight shifted. A voice close to your side. “Vander, you didn’t have any orders for cranberry juice tonight, did you?”
“Course not. You know we’re waiting for the next shipment.”
Movement. Skin-warmed leather being placed carefully over your shoulders. Someone crouching down by the foot of your stool.
“It’s blood.” Silco’s voice was weirdly blank.
“Shouldn’t be. There were no fights tonight.” Felicia spoke up.
More silence. And it was so quiet, that you actually heard the sound of a heavy bead of liquid dripping into an existing puddle.
The arm cinched around your waist was numb from the pressure of having your torso curled tightly over it.
“Shit.” Silco swore, voice weirdly weak and breathless. And then hands were on your shoulders, trying to rouse you. You groaned as the movement jolted your stomach, and threatened to pull you out of your pleasant drifting state.
“-fuck off…” you tiredly grumbled, shoving your face further into the warmth and pleasant darkness of your forearm.
“Silco.” Vander began to reprimand, “don’t wake them, I’ll clean it up later-”
“It’s their blood, Vander. They’re bleeding.” Silco sharply returned, and then his shaking became more insistent. You grumbled louder. He didn’t let up.
And then there was a larger hand gently tapping your fingers splayed on the counter. A presence right in front of you. Boxing you in.
Awareness slammed back into you, and you shot upright, hands shooting out to scramble at the bar counter, when you almost launched yourself completely off of your stool. Vander, who had been standing across from you, startled backwards, whilst Silco suddenly appeared at your elbow to steady you. The latter’s hands were slim but firm on your bicep, his jacket sliding off of your shoulders and thudding heavily to the floor.
Felicia hovered on the verge of your vision. Horror painted plainly on her expression as she stared at the counter. Blinking awareness back into your vision, you followed her gaze to find bruising knuckles, and your bloodied hand leaving smears across the freshly cleaned wood. Your sleeve was entirely soaked through with scarlet, <i>so much</i> scarlet, that it had dripped downwards with gravity to drip off your fingertips.
“Shit. Fuck.” You blurted, yanking the hand off the wood to try and stem the mess it was making, only for the evidence of its presence to be plainly left behind. “Sorry, I didn’t think I was bleeding that bad.” You sheepishly chuckled, voice strained and stomach throbbing.
Silco’s hand was still wrapped around your bicep, and didn’t seem to be in a hurry to let go as you glanced down to the floor to see a small puddle of blood at the foot of your stool too. Shit, that was embarrassing. What a mess.
The adrenaline of such an abrupt wake up had completely banished all thoughts of rest and sleep from your face, as you turned back to Vander and very evenly asked for the mop. He stared back at you as if you were an enigma, instead of a patron willingly asking for the tools to clean up their own mess. Honestly, what kind of establishment was he even running here? If you had bled all over the counter at the pub down the road, the owner would be using your face to clean up the spill.
“You’re still fucking bleeding, you idiot!” Felicia barked, promptly shattering whatever weird tension had kept everyone rooted to the spot.
Her sharp tone had your hackles rising like usual. Your eyebrows drew tightly together, as you snapped your attention to her, as she pushed off of the counter and hurriedly rounded the end to stoop for the cupboard Vander kept the first aid kit in - when had you hung around so often that you seemed to just know that anyway?
“Well, I’m sorry.” You snapped back, “if I had known it was this much, I would’ve left right after finishing the food instead of nodding off.” Reeling back in the bite in your tone, you very seriously turned back to Vander, who was staring at you in disbelief. “Sorry again about all this,” you motioned to the blood everywhere with your less bloody hand, “I’ll clean it up before I go, I swear.”
Your words finally snapped Vander out of his stupor. “I’m not mad about the mess.” He said evenly.
Your brows furrowed. “You’re-, not?”
“No.” He said evenly. “But I am royally pissed that you didn’t mention you were injured beforehand.”
Your expression shuttered at that. “Because it’s none of your business.”
Silco sucked in a breath at that. As if you’d said something wrong.
Vander’s expression mirrored your assumption. His brows drawing together, and his arms beginning to cross, as if he was standing firm. “Under my roof,” he began, tone reminiscent of a dad lecturing his unruly child, “your welfare is my business.”
You squinted back at him. “You’re so fucking strange sometimes.” You mumbled.
Vander just shook his head and motioned to Silco. And like clockwork, the pair worked in unison to hoist you off of your bar stool and onto the counter. You yelped at the change of position, at the ease in which Vander lifted you, and the careful way Silco offered back up support.
“I could’ve done it!” You protested, feeling like a reprimanded child now that you were sat on the lip of the counter, legs hanging over the edge.
“Best not to move you too much.” Vander replied evenly, “don’t want anything tearing because you can’t swallow your pride.”
You glared down at him, as Felicia returned with the first aid kit, her own expression stern as she came to stand on the side of the bar Vander was on.
Behind you, you heard Silco redirecting his attention to his fallen jacket, whilst the duo before you levelled you with a look that had every instinct within you wanting to shrivel up and hide.
“Don’t look at me like that,” Felicia snapped, her expression screaming ‘I’m mad at you’.
“Like what?” You bit back.
“Like you’re going to bolt.”
You raised your eyebrows challengingly, but Vander set his heavy hand on your knee before you could so much as shift. “Ignore her, she’s just worried.” He soothed, his deep voice level and stern. “Now, show me where you’re bleeding.”
It wasn’t a request.
Expression set into a scowl, you carefully pulled your jacket open, to display the blood stain gradually spreading across the front of your threadbare shirt. Huh, that was a lot more blood than you’d been expecting. Earlier, it had only been a line of red, and now most of your stomach was sticky from the shirt clinging to your wet skin.
Felicia sucked in a sharp breath. Vander’s expression didn’t change.
Shrugging off the jacket entirely, you pulled the shirt up next, and let that flop down with a wet splat on the counter beside you. It was just warm enough in the bar for your skin to not break out in goosebumps from the cold. Although you did feel very uncomfortable, being examined by the bartender and a mouthy woman you might decide to call your friend one day, with a third potential friend lingering behind you somewhere.
Behind you, you could hear Silco puttering around the place. Could hear him stride up to the front door of the establishment and flick the lock, before tugging down the blinds.
Your attention was wrestled back to the present when Felicia promptly took the reins. It quickly became apparent that she had more medical knowledge between her and Vander as she began examining and then cleaning your stab wound. Leaning back on your hands to give her more space, you glared up at the ceiling as she worked and Vander assisted her.
The ghost of fingertips on your skin was an odd sensation. It wasn’t violent, or predatory, or unkind, but nor was it soothing or nice. It just felt odd. Unless you were in a fight or stuck in the middle of a crowd, you weren’t touched a lot and certainly not like you were something worth being careful with.
“What happened?” Vander spoke up suddenly, snapping you back to the moment at hand. And unfortunately, drawing your attention to the feeling of a needle dipping into and out of your skin. Your teeth ground together at the pinching sensation, but it was by no means the worse pain you've dealt with tonight.
Resolutely glaring at the ceiling, you kept your response short. “Ran into some blue bellies.”
“Oh.” Vander prompted, encouraging you to elaborate.
“I was with Sevika. They wrongly thought we were the right people to fuck with.” The words came out easily, but felt weird being spoken in the setting of the bar. You didn’t talk about yourself here. You rarely mentioned friends or colleagues to these people. Hardly spoke about yourself at all really, besides the fact that you liked Vander’s cooking and loved to have verbal spars with Felicia regardless of how tired you were.
Vander sighed. “You know this will have repercussions right-?”
“What did you want me to do?” You snapped back, fixing him with a venomous glare. “Let them threaten me with my own knife, whilst I sat still and looked pretty?”
“Of course not-” Vander tried to soothe, only for Silco to reappear out of seemingly nowhere.
He had his jacket back on now, as he strode in from the door that led to the apartment at the back of the establishment. He had a pile of clothes in hand, which he carefully set down on a part of the counter not covered in blood.
“Did you kill them all?” He asked seriously, something sharp entering his voice. If you were delusional, or had lost a little more blood, you might have mistaken the hatred in his tone for protectiveness or concern. But of course you didn’t, because why would anyone feel protective of you?
You tried to imagine it. Someone like Silco, who was lean and easily snappable, going up against armed and trained enforcers in your defence. It was a comical image.
Instead of dwelling on the thought, you allowed your expression to split into a dangerous grin. “None of them will be leaving that alley in a hurry if they did survive.”
Silco nodded once. “Good.” He said, sounding like he meant it.
With a final tug of the medical thread and a smooth snip of scissors, Felicia took a step back to examine your neatly stitched up wound. “That should hold if you’re careful.”
“Thank you.” You returned easily, “just give me a few days, and I can replace the thread-”
“No need.” Vander was quick to reassure. “That’s what it’s there for.”
You frowned. “I don’t recall reading on the door, that stitching up patrons is one of your house policies?”
“Maybe not, but it’s <i>my</i> policy.” Vander said reasonably, “just like I’m going to insist you change into these,” he pushed the clothes towards you, “and stay the night.”
You outright snorted then. “Yeah, no, that’s how people end up dead.”
Vander, like the good man he was, did not take offence to what you were implying. “Somehow, I feel like you’ll be safer staying here for the night, than going back out there like this.” He reasoned sensibly. “You’ll have access to food, and pain medication, and I’ll even upgrade you to the bedroom with the lockable door.”
“Oh how generous.” You drooled back.
“He’s not joking, you know.” Silco spoke up once more from behind you. You glanced back to find he had picked up his notebook and pencil, with the latter now tucked behind his ear. “Until that wound scabs over, you’re not going anywhere.”
You scoffed. “You can’t keep me here.”
“No.” Silco agreed, “but he’s the kind of man to send people out to keep tabs on you if you do disappear.”
You turned back to Vander, expression searching. Unapologetically, he shrugged. “Can’t help that I care about my friends.” He said by way of explanation.
You liked to pretend it was against your will that you did in fact stay the night. You liked to think that you bargained and bitched enough to almost make them relent, but in reality, you were exhausted. The clothes you changed into were a little big on you, but they were warm and clean. And it turned out that the room you were shown to did in fact have a lock on the back, and a comfortable bed.
It had to be one of their rooms, but you were too tired to pick out any personal effects. If anything, you were more amazed that the little room had a window with <i>closable</i> blinds, rather than who it belonged to.
>_<
You knew there was a good reason why you never told Vander who you spent your days with when you weren’t free loading off of his business. You knew it was smarter not to mention anyone outside of the bar. It was a shame you hadn’t stuck to your gut whilst bleeding out that one night.
Sevika’s name had slipped out by accident. And had been such a fleeting moment, you’d assumed he hadn’t really clocked it. Let alone recognise it. But no, you just had to fall in with the nosy sort. And even better, the nosy sort with connections.
Otherwise you wouldn’t be in this situation, having just finished a job with Sevika, knuckles freshly bloodied, and your breath sawing in and out of you, only for your comrade to abruptly turn to you and ask how you knew Vander.
Your heart had just about dropped out of your ass.
“Why are you asking?”
“Because he was asking around for you.” She said simply, as if two worlds had not just collided. As if you hadn’t just had the sickening realisation that somehow Sevika and Vander KNEW each other. Or at least orbited similar enough social circles for their paths to cross.
You had to work very hard to keep your expression neutral as your mind raced and tripped over itself, trying to figure out why Vander would be looking for you of all people.
You hadn’t done anything different. You hadn’t stepped on toes in his area of the neighbourhood. Not to mention, your injury had been weeks ago, the wound neatly scarring. He and Felicia had stopped asking after it a week or so ago. There was no reason for him to be asking after you.
“Did he mention why he was looking for me?” You asked super calmly.
Sevika shook her head. “No, just asked for me to send you his way if I came across you.”
“Okay, that’s weird.” You said, more to yourself than Sevika, who hummed in agreement.
“Very.” Sevika agreed, and then she turned serious “But a word to the wise, don’t keep him waiting if you know what’s good for you. Vander may act like a docile little teddy bear, but he’s still got claws.”
And just like that, you were presented with a glimpse of how the rest of the Undercity viewed Vander. Of his reputation of being that dangerous, over protective kind of guy. The kind of guy that had the Enforcers steering clear of his bar and the streets that coiled around it. It matched up well with the image you’d had of him before you’d gotten to know him.
“Well then, we done here?” You prompted, suddenly anxious to get to the bar and tell Vander to stop spreading your name around. That’s how people get noticed. That’s how people end up with targets on their back.
Sevika made a show of counting out the bills in her hand stolen from some Enforcer’s pocket. It had been a quiet day out in the furthest reaches of the Lanes, fucking with Enforcer patrols to make money and occupy yourselves.
“Yeah, just about.” She agreed, before cleanly splitting the money in two and shoving half of the wad towards you.
“What? Not going to deal me out of a few notes? Take a personal bonus again?” You ribbed before smartly taking the offered cash and promptly tucking it into one of the inner pockets of your jacket.
She snorted. “No. You did good today, Runt.” Was all she said, before pocketing her own cash, and leaving with a quick ruffle of your hair.
You watched her go with a fond wrinkle of your nose. What a strange woman. Yet another oddity living amongst the Lanes of Zaun, but could you really be surprised at this point? It almost felt like you were becoming a magnet for the kinder folks of the city. Odd.
Money safely tucked out of sight, you stuffed your hand into your pockets and headed for the heart of the city, towards the glowing, green sign of The Last Drop. It was perhaps an hour or two before the establishment opened for the night in preparation for the miners who would be crawling out of their work sites, and the more criminal side of the city beginning to awaken.
The door was unlocked when you pushed on it, so you let yourself in.
As it often was at this time of afternoon, the bar within was practically deserted. The tables neatly wiped down, condiments lined up in uniform formation, chairs tucked under tables, the carpet recently cleaned.
A lone figure stood behind the bar, polishing glasses, his back to the door and you, but you knew he’d heard the door open regardless.
“I heard you’re looking for me.” You called, as you strode confidently up to the counter.
Vander turned smoothly on his heel, a grin already tugging at his lip. His five o’clock shadow was beginning to darken his jawline already, which was strange, considering he openly hated the feeling of the tiny bristles beginning to poke through. “Ah good, you’re here.”
“That I am.” You agreed, before pulling out a stool and smoothly dropping into it. It was the same one you usually took, thankfully without the blood splatter today. “Although, I wasn’t expecting to be called to heel like some common dog, want to tell me what that was about?”
At the very least, he had the decency to look guilty. “Yeah, sorry about that. I didn’t know how else to get ahold of you.”
Okay, fair enough. You could give him that. You were a difficult individual to pin down after all. “It’s fine, just don’t make it a habit.” You warned. “But it must have been serious, if you felt the need to invite me in instead of allowing me to make my way over on my own time.”
He shook his head at your theatrics. Then seemed to collect himself. Turning fully towards you, he set down his cleaned glass, tossed his rag over his shoulder, and fixed you with a very serious look that had you instinctively straining in your chair. “Look, you know I love our little social calls, but today I need a favour.”
Oh.
You weren’t entirely sure why that struck a chord in you, but you made sure to cover it up regardless. So today wasn’t going to be fun, that was fine. If Vander finally wanted to make your presence in his establishment useful, who were you to push back.
“I see,” you said evenly, sitting back against the small backrest of the stool before crossing your arms. You tucked the sour feeling in your chest behind an amused smirk. “Oh, please do tell. What exactly could the Hound of the Underground, the Beastly Bartender of The Last Drop, need from little old me.”
Vander huffed quietly and shook his head at you. He stood on his own two feet behind the bar, and yet he still seemed to tower over you. “You’ve done your research.” He commented evenly.
You tipped your head to the side and shrugged noncommittally. “Eh, it’s hard to ignore whispers when they’re directly hissed into your ear.” You dismissed easily, before purposefully catching his gaze. “But seriously, what is it?”
Vander huffed again, this time more heavily. More tiredly. He seemed to gather himself. “It’s about Silco.”
Your breath stuttered on its way into your nose. You felt yourself freeze up as your mind violently thrust you into horrifying scenarios of all the ways said man could have horrendously died in the short time since you’d last seen him.
“Is he okay?” You asked carefully, not entirely sure if you managed to keep all of the panic out of your voice.
Vander’s own expression blanched as he no doubt understood how his phrase had come across. “Yes. Yes! He’s fine! More or less.” He was quick to reassure, almost with a frantic urgency. You found your breath came a little easier with the admission. “A little roughed up from a mine collapsing on us, but he’s okay. I just need someone to watch him.”
You blinked at him.
Vander winced back at you.
You unfolded your arms so that you could rub harshly at the bridge of your nose with a forefinger and thumb. “Vander. Did you cause ripples across town, to get me to come here and babysit your brother?”
Vander smiled shakily. “Uh, friend actually. We’re not blood related.”
“You’re practically family. Even a blind man could see it.” You deadpanned, “now answer my fucking question.”
“Yes, okay? Yes. And look, I <i>know</i> he can be a handful, but that’s why I need your help. I need to work the bar tonight, so I can’t be out back to make sure he’s okay. I’ve already tried to bring in Felicia, but she’s given up on him. He’s mean when he’s in pain, and with her pregnancy symptoms she has no patience to spare for him.”
It’s almost laughable how in character that sounded for Silco.
“Just for tonight?” You checked, and Vander nodded. The crease between his eyebrows had already begun to loosen, as if he already knew your answer. But he didn’t know you that well. Did he?
You pretended to weigh the pros and cons for a few seconds more. Pulling a contemplating and then thoughtful face at random intervals to make Vander snort. To help ease some of the tension out of his shoulders.
Finally, you leant back on your stool once more, and in a very business-like tone you said, “fine, but on one condition.”
Vander played along. With a look of equal intrigue, he leaned on his elbows on the other side of the counter, his head tilting. “I’m listening,” he purred, before adding as an afterthought, “so long as it’s within reason of course.”
You tapped your chin. Once, twice, and then blurted, “I want unmonitored access to the kitchen. Any delicacy you’ve cooked up, I deserve to taste-test it. Understood?”
He almost looked surprised by your ask. As if he had been expecting you to demand something more valuable or difficult to part with. Then a sadder note entered his eyes, and you felt pinned in place. His voice was gentle when he quietly said, “you know you don’t need an excuse for me to feed you right? If you’re hungry, you don’t have to bargain for food, it’s the least I can do.”
“Maybe,” you countered, trying to smoothly wipe that expression off his face. Vander’s soft concern should not be aimed at you at all. Not only do you not need it, but you don’t feel like you really deserve it. “But food willingly given, doesn’t taste as good as when it’s stolen.”
He sighed tiredly. And straightened up, until he was looking down at you once again. His expression clearly said, ‘I don’t understand you, even though I’m trying to’ but he smartly kept any thoughts like that to himself.
“This way then, little thief.” He mused, before turning on his heel to emerge from behind the counter and lead you to one of the side doors that would give you access to the private part of the building.
The little nickname sent a pang through you. Not only was it a little too close to your actual job, but it sounded weirdly fond when Vander said it like that. Shoving all those confusing feelings promptly into a mental box, you pushed back your stool and followed.
Vander led you through the doorway and down a staircase to a set of doors on the level below. One you immediately recognised as the door to the bedroom you’d spent the night in. Whereas the others were unfamiliar.
With confidence, Vander led the way down the hall to one of the end rooms, which opened out into a living room that sat at the foot of a second set of stairs.
The room was on the smaller side, with enough space for a couple of couches, a coffee table and a chest of drawers. A ratty brown rug covered up the cold flagstones under the foot of the coffee table and stretched out towards both couches.
A small fire burned low in the grate at the far end of the room, whilst a figure shrouded in a red blanket sat curled up on the couch closest to the flames. Silco sat back against the arm of the chair with his notebook spread out over his knees, and his left hand was strapped up against his chest. His long, black hair was loose around his shoulders, casting his face in shadows, and yet making his blue eyes glow in the low light.
“Ah Vander, it seems you’ve tracked down a fresh nurse for me to torture.”
“You’re in a better mood than when I walked Felicia out.” Vander countered.
The blanketed man on the couch merely grinned in response, and motioned with his pencil at the glass of water and non-descript pill bottle on the coffee table by his feet. “They finally decided to kick in.”
“Good.” Vander said, and with a searching look over his younger brother, he turned to you, and began listing rapid fire care instruction. “He needs another round of those pills in two hours. You can get water from behind the bar, and I’ll have dinner ready at eight.”
“Noted.” You easily agreed.
“Oh, and if he starts giving you a hard time, just ignore him. He’s a glut for attention.” With that last parting nugget of wisdom, Vander patted your shoulder in camaraderie before turning for the stairs.
Silco glared at his back. “Don’t be giving away all my secrets now.” He drawled like a drama queen, to which Vander took his own advice and ignored him. The click of the door closing behind him settled a stiff tension on the little living room.
You shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot, suddenly unsure of yourself. You were used to existing on the edge of social groups, and had only ever been alone with Vander, and in pairs with the others of the trio. To suddenly be all alone with Silco, was embarrassingly daunting.
The man in question, chose then to sigh obnoxiously, and look up from the notebook he was scribbling in. “Are you just going to stand there all evening?” He demanded.
You made a show of looking around at the empty couches, then threw your hands up as you scrambled for a response.
“Do you need anything?” You asked, like an idiot. Of course he didn’t need anything. His medication had just kicked in.
Silco did not look impressed. “No.” He said flatly.
You nodded, “fine,” before turning and perching your ass on the very edge of the opposite sofa, as far from the fire and Silco as physically possible without sitting on the floor or crawling back up the stairs. You had come down here expecting a mouthy, feverish asshole, not a quiet, bitchy Silco.
Gradually, the sound of pencil scraping across paper and the occasional pop and fizz of the fire allowed your muscles to relax. You found yourself sitting more comfortably on the couch, and taking out one of your knives to sharpen. It was a pretty little thing, with a wickedly sharp blade the length of your forefinger, and a smooth wooden handle, wrapped in medical tape for a stronger grip.
The grinding of the welt stone down the blade didn’t seem to upset Silco, so you kept at it. Sharpening both sides of the blade, before tucking it away in the sheath tucked in the back of your boot, and pulling out its twin to repeat the process. Then when that was done to a satisfying degree, you sat back and pulled your spare out of your overcoat’s inner pocket.
That finally seemed to get a reaction out of your companion.
“How many of those could one person possibly need?”
“More than I have.” You replied without looking up from your task. “There’s nothing worse than being elbow deep in a fight, ready to deal the finishing blow, only to realise you left one knife in the first fucker you stabbed, lost the next down a storm drain, and the last got smacked into the shadows.”
Silco scoffed quietly. “True story by any chance.”
“Embarrassingly true.” You agreed gravely, chancing a glance up at him through your lashes.
He sat more comfortably on his cushion on the opposite couch. Body lounging in a loose sprawl, rather than the uptight posture from before. His notebook had vacated to one knee instead of resting on both, whilst his pencil had been tucked behind his ear again. Had he been watching you?
Feeling caught, you flicked your gaze back down to your hands and finished sharpening your last knife. You could feel his eyes on you now, studying the way you held both knife hilt and whetstone.
The silence had somehow morphed into something comfortable now.
Enough for you to notice another sound entering the atmosphere. Silco’s quiet grumbling as he pushed at his loosely, sprawling hair. It was longer than you were expecting. Coming down to mid-bicep from what you could tell.
“Need a hair tie?”
Silco paused in his irritated fussing, to glare at you. Then he pointedly glanced down to his strapped up arm. “Why yes, I would love for you to find amusement as I struggle to fix my hair one-handed! What a doll you are? Thank you for suggesting such torture!” He bitched.
You rolled your eyes. “Okay okay, you big baby.” You mused, allowing the barb to fall short.
Sliding your knife and whetstone away, you rose from your seat with a groan.
Silco watched you with blatant mistrust in his expression, his body subconsciously leaning back into the couch backrest, away from you.
Ignoring how he shrunk away, you exuded confidence as you strode towards the fireplace and rounded the back of his couch.
“Hairband?”
“What are you doing?” He demanded, turning in place to glare up at you. His hair falling across his shoulders like a sweeping black cloak.
“I’m going to braid it back for you.” You said simply. “Then it’ll be out of your way, and you won’t have to keep redoing it.”
Silco’s scepticism seemed to lose its steam. The knot between his brows began to loosen as he relaxed at the explanation. “Oh.” He said lamely.
You brushed him off by making a grabbing motion. “Hairband?”
Jerkily, he held up his good hand to you, where his sleeve slid back up his arm to reveal two worn leather hair bands. You slid one off his wrist and slid it over your own hand.
“Great. Now just sit still and do whatever you usually do.”
At first, he was stubbornly still under your touch. Barely breathing. Barely moving. As if he was expecting a knife to the back and had to be prepared to to deflect a blow at any movement.
When you proceeded not to try and kill him, or cut off his hair out of spite, he slowly began to unwind.
His long fringe was lengthy enough for you to scrape it back from his face with the rest of his hair, where you neatly separated everything into three even strands, before beginning the braid low on the back of his head. You kept the loops slack so as not to give him a headache, and allow him to sleep on it later.
Silco visibly relaxed under the attention. His head tipped down towards his notebook, his pencil back in hand even though he wasn’t writing anything.
You got so lost in the task at hand, that you didn’t even register the heavenly smell of Vander’s cooking, until the man in question appeared on the other side of the coffee table, carrying two plates of steaming food. Your hands momentarily stalled in their weaving at the sight of beautifully seared meat, what looked like potatoes and some other root vegetable. Just the smell alone was enough to make your mouth begin to water.
Vander set both plates on the table, before straightening up with his hands planted on his hips. “Well, that was fast.” He commented cheerfully, a shit-eating grin splitting his face.
Silco huffed. “What was fast?” Silco parroted, attempting to turn his head, only for you to pause braiding to firmly steer his attention forward once more.
“You’re going to fuck it up by moving.” You complained under your breath, to which he sighed again but stayed put.
Vander’s grin somehow grew even wider. “Well for starters, this morning, you were snapping and spitting at Felicia, and now I walk in on you getting your hair braided.”
“It was being inconvenient,” Silco eloquently corrected.
Vander just shook his head. “I can’t believe I didn’t see this happening.” He lamented to himself.
Silco bristled. “What? What are you on about?”
“Come on-”
You cut in before Vander could get him any more riled up. “Can you tease him after I’m done?”
Silco seemed to preen, whilst Vander obediently shut his mouth on his bubbling comment.
Taking it in stride, you confidently added, “you’re just jealous that your hair is too short for braids, Vander.”
“Yes, that is exactly it.” The older man agreed sarcastically. Before he fixed Silco with a knowing look, which he promptly glared down. You pretended not to notice as you finally ran out of hair and began to neatly tie the braid off at the tail.
>_<
You stopped by the bar the following day to check up on the brothers, and was pleasantly surprised to find Silco in the main room, with his hair still braided up, whilst Felicia stood beside him and merrily declared them hair twins.
You tried not to grin too obviously as you strode forward to join in on the conversation.
Guys, are there any fics with AU Silco(I was able to find only one 😭)? I really want to read something fluffy and warm with him. Or any fic recommendations where he is less intense 🥴 and more caring towards the reader?
Imagine Being an Adoptive Family with Silco for Jinx
Summary: Between late-night tea, quiet reassurances, and unspoken affection, you and Silco learn how to raise the girl neither of you expected to love so deeply.
Pairing: Silco x Reader (adoptive parents)
Word count: ~1,200
Warnings: emotional vulnerability, soft domesticity, found family, mentions of trauma
Jinx doesn’t knock. She never does.
She just throws the door open like a storm and kicks it closed behind her, arms crossed tight, face tense and unreadable.
You’re standing at the counter, already preparing a second cup of tea. You don’t say anything. Just pour the water and set the mug down in front of her usual chair.
Jinx glares at it, then looks at you. “You always make this when I look like crap?”
You raise a brow. “No. I make it when you come home pretending you're fine.”
She flops into the seat with a groan and slouches dramatically. “Why are you always right?”
“Years of practice,” you say, smiling gently.
Silco appears from the hallway a few moments later. His jacket’s off, shirt sleeves rolled up, tired eyes scanning her posture instantly. His voice is low.
“Trouble?”
“Only in her own head,” you reply softly.
Jinx doesn’t argue. That alone says enough.
Fifteen minutes pass before she speaks again. Her hands wrap around the tea like she’s trying to soak in its warmth.
“You ever just… hate your own brain?” she mumbles, voice sharp but shaky.
You move to sit beside her. “More often than I’d like to admit.”
She chews the inside of her cheek. “I keep seeing things. Vi. Powder. I don’t know which one’s me anymore.”
You reach across and gently tuck a strand of her hair behind her ear.
“You’re Jinx,” you say firmly. “And we love her.”
She doesn't cry. Not really. But her shoulders sag and she stares at the mug like it might split open and show her who she’s supposed to be.
You glance at Silco. He doesn’t speak either , just stands behind her, resting a steadying hand on her shoulder.
Later that night, you find her hovering near the living room, arms crossed, shifting from foot to foot like she’s trying to psych herself up.
You’re sitting on the couch with Silco, half-reading a book, the other half listening for her footsteps.
She finally blurts it out. “Can I-can I sit with you guys or whatever?”
You look up and smile gently. “Of course.”
She hesitates again. Then pads across the room and practically flops down on the other side of you. Not touching. Not speaking. Just there.
You wait.
Two minutes later, she leans her head on your shoulder.
Three minutes after that, her hand finds yours.
And when Silco puts down his paper and leans just slightly toward her, she scoots an inch closer to him too not enough to touch, but close enough that if he reached out, he could.
He does.
His hand lands gently on her knee. No words. Just pressure. Reassurance.
She finally exhales.
You can feel it , how hard she tries to be tough all the time. How much she needs softness she doesn’t know how to ask for. How afraid she is to take up space.
You squeeze her hand.
“You’re not too much,” you whisper.
She closes her eyes. Her voice is barely audible.
“Thank you. For not leaving.”
Neither of you says you're welcome. You don’t have to.
The fire crackles. Silco's hand stays steady on her knee.
And for once, Jinx lets herself fall asleep—head against your shoulder, wrapped in the silence of people who won't walk away.
A/N: Here the last one of Silco. Woulld like a second part? Ask Me in private message! Have a good reading! Lot of love !
Don't forget to Like, Share and Subscribe !🩷🩵❤️🩵🩵🩵🩷❤️
summery: The rain was too heavy to return to the house with your husband so you too stayed in The Last Drop and slept together.
Word count : 2.6k
Tags: Fluff, Soft silco , sleeping on the couch , established relationship , artist reader , cuddling ,
It had been a long and dark night in Zaun. The people were bustling towards their houses with umbrellas covering the streets. Space was limited for the many umbrellas poking one other but it protected their heads and children from the pouring rain. Even the runoffs of Piltover’s land above in some areas. All kinds of scraps come down here. Metal , mechanical gears , trash. They washed down here in the fissures. There had been attempts to find a way to get rid of such. But also make it into something greater.
The Last Drop was empty after everybody left. Only you and your few coworkers that had been there. Even Sevika left for the night. Due to it being close to the end of her shift. You sat at the bar with your drink of choice chatting up with the bartender. Since you both work here , though not exactly the same job. The bartender well, worked behind the bar (as in the name). And you worked as Silco’s assistant. You two talked about the lazy night shift that appears once in a lifetime to pass the time.
You thought about getting home but it looked like the rain was far from stopping. It was pouring harshly outside and you didn't have anything to shield off the rain. Not a coat, not an umbrella, no nothing. The lack of protection made you think of staying for the night here. Silco had a built-in room somewhere in this building you could stay in. You and Silco were pretty close together. Even outside of work matters. From being a friend in the mines to the proposal. While eloping you both agreed to it being unknown to anyone. Even to family and friends on both sides.
“Would Silco let me spend the night here ?” You asked casually,
“Here ? Um, No i dont think so- But dont take my word i.. don’t really know the boss that much as well as you do. B..but you can try ..?” Chuck poorly chuckled in nervousness.
Sure you both were work friends but his mind was a constant reminder how high above you were from him. You chuckled when the bartender sheepishly answered.
“ I’ll try my chances”
Before you left you asked Chuck to do another favor,
“Hey before I leave, make me the whiskey that Silco always orders, isn’t whiskey with ice ? ”
“mhm, i’ll start closing after his drink is done”
He poured the liquor into an empty glass as you watched. After he was done, you thanked him for making the drink before you both said your goodbyes. You made your way to Silco’s office through the glowing stairs. As you opened up the door to see Silco behind his desk, hunched over some paper work and a map of the Chembaorens territories. He raised his only eyebrow to you walking into his office without ever knocking.
“What came along for you to stay after hours?”
You walked behind his busy desk where he sat on his chair. His elbows touching the desk as his eyes move where you were at.
“A lack of a coat and an umbrella of course.”
You playfully told him, “It seems it's going to be raining all night sadly.” You took off the
snappy attitude for a second. Letting go of a light sigh of annoyance.
“It seems we’re having similar nights .” He huffed out
“Do you think we’ll stay here all night because of that ?”
“Unfortunately, I’m busy for the time being. ”
Silco went back to the paperwork in front of him. For a second before you placed the cold cup on the “Lanes” portion of the map.
“Cheers to us,”
The condensation of the cup stained the map with a circular spot. The Lanes. Sure the Lanes were no different from the rest in Piltover’s eyes. But there are things that make it separate from the others. Loyalty. You will never see somebody turn a fellow neighbor into any enforcer’s cuffs. You will never see such community in the other parts. So quick you’ll think the two were a zaunite and a piltoverian. So quick to turn the other cheek. Even the leaders are unfaithful to their fellow council.
“I already had mine for the night. And also Chuck is already closing for the night .”
Silco took a slight look at you before taking the cup to his lips. A light smile formed on his face. He thanked you followed by your name. The last thing muttered under his breath before the liquor hit his lips.
“Just say what you want to say dear , no need to be proper. We're out of work hours now.”
A small tease came through your words
“If you insist, my lovely” His voice was a tad bit harsh but still kind. “You may rest on the couch. If I ever need your assistance I’ll call you over.”
“Perfect,”
You walked off to the couch with the decorative coffee table in front. You laid back on the soft, comfortable, maroon colored couch. The couch relaxed your tight muscles as you laid down on the couch. All was quiet but not silent. The rain outside , the soft writing and the occasional light chime of the glass and ice tapping each other. It almost made you fall asleep as you laid on the couch. Questions came into your mind as you were staring off into the void, like if Silco would be bothered if somebody slept on the couch, most likely, but there’s exceptions for anything. Maybe if he slept here before you two got together. A small huff of humor came out as you thought while smiling.
The bitterness and the burning feeling of the whiskey was the only thing that was keeping him awake during this night. Silco had already so little sleep last night with no breaks during the day as much as the tiredness was trying to persuade him. But he needed to make the future plans and operations he was planning on implementing. Many for cooperations and meetings with the other chembarons one-on-one. The papers that he was examining were slowly turning into just a mix of letters and periods together and sloppy ink stains. The relaxing waterdrops dripping down were tempting the act of rest on Silco’s eye lid.
After a while boredom was building in your mind. There were not much of a variety of things you could do while waiting until the rain had stopped. The thought of bothering your husband was tempting but you understood he was busy and not to be bothered. But you could get up and get things , you are his spouse after all, surely he trusts you using stuff that’s his. You got up from the couch and traveled behind his desk for some extra paper and such. Of course a pair of eyes took notice of you walking around. He looked at you from the corners of his eyes before returning back to his slow work.
He could not concentrate, rereading lines, not processing information that was on the papers. Slico needed a break. He quietly raised his eyes against his brows to look at the person on the couch sketching. The artist was focused on sketching on the plank, white paper with a black pen that belonged to him. He was looking for that pen after losing it a few weeks ago. He wondered if you had stolen it since nobody has gotten into his office lately besides Jinx. But no it was just in his lower drawer after all.
“What is my lovely drawing?” He thought.
His mind started to ponder off. In a blur of meaningless, inner monologue he zoning out with his eyelid low. His vision became blurry and limited and his thoughts blank with the natural melody playing outside as background music to consume his mind.
You were sketching little doodles and sketches around the page. Some were little like a simple eight petal flower in the corner. Some were sketches of people, many were the same person over and over again. That person was the man behind the desk on the far left of you. Some of the sketches were mostly off, like his hair wasn't the right shape or his scar wasn’t detailed enough. Maybe you could use the reference again. What's a better reference than the original piece? You decided to take another quick sight at Silco, just a quick look before continuing. When you looked up from your paper again to the left of you, you were automatically met with a pair of mismatched eyes lazily looking at you right back at you.
The almond mismatched eyes look at you with tiredness in them. Like they wanted to be where you were at. Not hunching over a desk planning for shit that's not even going to happen for months. No, a soft surface that he could lay onto. To close his eye and cover his forever opened eye to catch up on the nights where he had ignored meaningful rest. He would finally sleep with you at the same time for this rainy night. Most of the time you were already blissfullying sleeping the time he prepared himself to join you. He quickly realized that the two of you were staring at each other blankly before the both of you started smirking, He finally called you out.
“Admiring me I see,”
“Just needed a reference dear,”
“Having my portrait in the middle of the night ? Even better ,”
He teased, but now curious how the sketches came out. He didn’t notice you looking at him at any other times besides now. But he didn’t have any doubt it was horrible. You were an incredible artist.
“I just needed something to accompany myself with before I dozed off” You playfully responded. If he’s going to respond with sas you're going to reply just as equivalent. You looked around the room for the clock. On the wall the hands were tipping at 2:25. Well over due for your rest for the night.
“Care for me to join you then?”
When you could've spoken he had already got up from his seat. He placed his finished drink down before straightening his back. A few bones popped when he stretched his arms out while walking toward the couch. God his body ached. All of his muscles were knots of his own inactivity. Before he sat down he turned off the brightest lamps. Only leaving the small, low lamps on for sight. Once he was done he dragged himself onto the empty space you left. The seat felt like a relief. The couch had fused itself with his head back against the couch.
A deep grunt escaped from his parting lips with a sigh of relief paired. To Jenna he needed to take more breaks.
“Sleeping on the job is see”
A sharp attitude chimed into your voice. For once Silco was too tired to do anything about it. He’ll let it slide, for now. In the midst of leisure he had slowly reached for the cigar case and his lighter. The couch rubbed against its fabric as he arched . A nice view to see from your end. He lit up one of his cigars, filling the air with smoke with no wind to carry it off.
The smell was a version of a calming scent to you. It reminded you of the mines while you and Silco picked at coal together. The hours of chit-chat Silco and you had. You wondered if the past would accept this way of ruling. You snapped back into the present when Silco leaned on your shoulder. The smoke puffing out of his lips like a breeze in autumn blowing the leaves. His slow moments indicate he was about to sleep in a few short minutes. So slow to puff in a single hit after with his sluggish movements. In your own way you were also slowly drifting into sleep. You close your notebook before handing it towards Silco.
“You were interested in the sketches I did ?”. You yawned before laying on your side with your legs crunched up to your chest. Before you could lay your head down completely, Silco whispered your name before continuing,
“Wait”
He put out his cigar then turned to his side and grabbed one of the couch pillows on his side and tucked it underneath your head when he got up. Instead of sitting back down he went to the closet near his desk and pulled out a black blanket with a red interior. It was definitely wide and thick enough for a blanket to be shared among two people. You had seen that blanket multiple times while on the job but you never saw him use it. The thought of him sleeping in his office was rising again.
“So that’s why you have that big ol’ blanket there just collecting dust for sleeping at the job?” You picked at him.
“Not on the clock, for cases just like these, my lovely”
Despite you trying to get under his skin, his response was soft spoken and smooth like liquids compared to him a few moments ago. Maybe that break gave him peace within himself. He took off his vest and placed it over his chair. Leaving him with a loose tie and a collared shirt. He moped himself back on the couch tucking you in the makeshift bed.
While he was taking off his shoes, you took great notice of his disheveled look. With his tie loosened, his hair sprinkled around his forehead and his half closed eyelid. But tonight wasn’t the time for such, or was it? You motioned fingers at Silco to come with a smirk on your face. Tonight drained him too much for him to care. He scooted himself into your arms of acceptance and covered the two of you with the blanket.
The moment you accepted him, all of his wows blew away in the dust. Silco lets out a low hum of comfort from your acceptance. Like this was his way of saying “thank you.” He traced his digits over yours sides as he bows his head to your chest for warmth. A tired purr was let out as he enfolded further in the cuddle. He coiled himself into your heat.
He hung on to you like you were his last hope. To Jenna, your warmth was an oasis to him. All of his muscles loosen as the rest came ashore. His coldness defrosted by your touch.
“Missed me that badly ?”
Silco nodded his head against your chest with a “hmh” in agreement.
It was funny, he was snarky and sassy only a few minutes ago. Now he craves to be in your arms. To be cooed and be cared for. You're more than happy to give such. You too missed your partner. Even when you two were in the same building.
A hand was placed on the messy slick-back on your chest. Your fingers curled his black and white hairs as you pleased. His hair was smooth and as chilled as the office’s air. The weight from him felt so blissful on your behalf. The feeling of cuddling a cold weighted pillow equates to him. Slowly that “pillow” turns warmer and warmer as he traced his fingers on your sides. Slowly letting his bear hug let loose as the two of you drifted into sleep.
