#bookworm x crimelord?

[a-gal-with-taste]

Goodreads

Summary: You walk into the Undercity's most famous club, and an hour in, immediately sneak off to go immerse yourself in the book you brought. The stranger that joins you at the bar-counter, takes an interest.

Pairing: Silco X GN!Reader

Wordcount: 2.5K+

Warnings: SFW. No real warnings, mostly just two strangers, meeting at a bar, and conversing over books. One just happens to be the most powerful person in Zaun.

Note: Replacement piece for Timer (Pt. 2) (read Pt. 1 here) that I was planning to release tonight. Hoping to release it tomorrow, enjoy this until then!

Part 2

It wasn't that you didn't like clubs. You decided to come to this one after all the begging and whining your friends had given you after your initial decline, after all, so obviously your distaste for the pounding music and sporadic lighting was mild enough for you to enjoy yourself for an hour or two.

Still, after a couple rounds on the dance-floor, you had been quick to remove yourself from your friends to slip over to the open-bar. Bag pulled tight to your side as you made your way towards the more vacant side, taking the forest corner-seat, and pulling out your true source of entertainment for a night after ordering something mild.

The group you had come with had been quick to roll their eyes, some audibly groaning in dismay with one staring at the offending object in a mix of horror, disgust and betrayal, but this was one of your favorites. It was a nice vacation from the flickering sights and sounds of the club, which was apparently the best in the city. It was at least the most well-protected, you mused as you remembered the towering guards at the entrance and the way your other companion had been boasting about getting on the list for the evening.

Personally, while you didn't mind the bursts of partying and letting the music take control, there came a point where you knew you'd find more enjoyment in a book, despite how bizarre the sight must appear to others.

Placing your drink back onto the counter, you were engrossed in the well-worn book laying on the counter as you rested your cheek on your fist, elbow against the counter as you sighed quietly at the ending of the chapter, internally debating on a return to the dance floor. You soon turned to the next page. Out of the corner of your eye, you could see a figure pause briefly at the bar-counter a few seats down to utter something to the tender, words just low-enough under the music you couldn't catch it.

You attention soon fully-diverted back to the book in your hands, you missed the way the figure had paused upon glancing out of the corner of his eye, catching sight of you. You certainly don't miss him when he walks over to smoothly take the empty barstool right next you, leaning close enough to be heard over the music, "Well, this certainly isn't something one sees often in a place like this."

Well... the bonus of the smooth, slightly bemused tone now beside you, was that it didn't sound like a drunk one. Currently being in one of the better chapters of your novel, you really didn't want stop in place to deal with the inebriated. You probably could've ignored him, have him grow bored and let him leave in a huff at your lack of reaction, but you were fairly decent with multi-tasking, so you simply shrugged one shoulder and replied without looking up, "Don't normally go to a place like this."

"Oh?" There was a definitive clink of glass on the counter, placed before the man, before the sound of the bartenders shoes being quick to step away, as if warded off. By bad omen or by order of your visitor, you didn't look up to tell. "Interesting. What brought you here tonight, then?" "Well... I got yanked off the streets, shoved into one of the nicer things in my closet, and then dragged here by my friends."

"Ah; a kidnapping," He hums around the word in understanding, and you snort slightly, flipping to the next page, "Something like that. Although I imagine most victims of abduction don't get to bring reading material."

His turn to scoff lightly in amusement, and you catch a glimpse of dark-burgundy as he reaches an arm over to his drink. You swear you hear him mutter an amused, "No, they do not..." but you find your attention drawn back to the pages in hand, and he allows a comfortable silence between the two of you.

Expecting him to return onto the floor, you're surprised as the man beside you stays. Like how it wasn't often you went out on the town, it was even less common for someone (who wasn't totally shitfaced) to continue sticking around you even after you pulled the classic out. You'd assume it'd be for the alcohol, but besides a few quiet, occasional sips from his glass, the man wasn't rushing for his next shot.

You were curious. So you asked him why he was still sticking around.

"Are you saying you would you like me to leave this establishment?" He asked you, equally curious but also a humored note in his voice, like he was in on some sort of secret joke you weren't aware you were telling. "No, course not, but... you don't have a partner or someone on the dancefloor?"

"Oh no," There's a small hum at the suggestion, and you absently still your eyes on a sentence to reach out, feeling around for your drink. His arm comes directly into your line of vision, and you feel the cup nudged close against your knuckles. A small, sheepish thanks,  before you bring the straw to your lips as he continues. "Typically I don't come down here at all, let alone with company."

"But tonight?"

Another hum, another clink of glass as he takes a drink. "Tonight... paperwork was just a bit too tedious. It usually is, but some nights the thobbing of this terrible music is more agreeable than that of endless reports and records."

"It's not that terrible." There's a pointed silence between the two of you and you slowly add as you flip to the next page, "It... fits the aesthetic."

"Imagine hearing it every night. It stops being an aesthetic, or at least a good one, after the first hundred times." He sighs, and between the beat-drop, you hear him mutter something about 'last time I let her DJ...'

The familiarity of his tone piques your curiosity once again, but you wait until after another paragraph of reading in silence before acting on it, "You live local?" It was mostly a business-district, or at least what counts as 'business' in the Undercity. Again, your response is another chuckle, another joke he's bemused you haven't caught onto yet, but he also asks perplexed without answering, "What exactly are you reading there? I don't believe you've looked up once."

You take a moment to reach out again for your drink, needing to thank him again as he guides the glass to your hand again, before clearing the rest of your glass through your straw. "Just a classic. I've read it before, but it's been a while. It's good."

"Hm... put theirs on my tab," He says off-handedly, and you assume it's the bartender, as your glass is quickly refilled after his generous offer. A small drink from his own refilled glass, before he asked politely, "May I see it?" You hesitate, half because you're nearing the end of the chapter, and half because while this conversation has been interesting, even pleasant so far, you really don't want to lose or have this book ruined in case this guy is more drunk than he sounds.

Chewing on your bottom lip while he patiently waits, you can feel his casual look as you run your gaze over the rest of the page, completing the chapter with a small smile appearing at the familiar words as you go to pick it up off the counter. "I have a knife in my pocket, so don't smudge the pages," it's partially a common Zaunite joke and partially a half-hearted warning, but it earns you a somewhat disbelieving chuckle either way.

"Noted," He said as he smoothly took the book you held out, leaning back in your seat to bring your refilled drink to your mouth to really observe the man who's been keeping you company tonight. And what company he visually-was, curious seafoam eye and a proud hawk-nose peering down at the book in his hands, flipping it carefully to take note of the well-worn cover. "From a family collection?"

You snort, shaking your head, "Street-market a few years back, wanted something to keep me safe and busy inside instead of getting tangled with messes around town." He nods, smoothly flipping to the title page, his brow raising slightly as he adds. "And you're aware this is Piltovian classic?" Suppressing a groan, and subtly brushing your hand to your backpocket, you dryly asked, "Yes. Are you going to chuck it in a fire now?"

"Hardly. It's not like Zaun has a plethora of poets and novelists. And it's hardly a rarity that we get all our things second-handed from those above us." You hum in agreement, surprised to find him mild about the origin of your book. Older generations downright spat on Enforcers and the influence of Piltover, with the youth, angry but still greedy, snatching at the Undercity runoffs with dark scowls at their own weakness.

You didn't allow yourself around the worse of the streets often enough to form a concrete stance. The arts and written words of the Uppercity were the most easily accessible, and in this world where such things were a rarity at best, you took whatever you could get. "Sometimes I wonder if we'll ever get to the point we will have some. Artists, I mean," You add in clarification, your dark-haired companion shrugging as he flipped to the first couple pages, green-blue eye slowly skimming down the page.

"Oh, perhaps in another generation. It takes the youth a moment to find themselves, but there's hardly a shortage of stories to be told in Zaun." "Most will be tragedies," You retort lightly as a joke, the man closing his eyes and ducking his chin slightly with a bemused huff, before looking back up to the book. "Perhaps. I imagine there will be a few hidden gems though, love, glory and other silly things to muse the masses."

Letting out your own small chuckle at the thought, you turn slightly in your seat to glance back towards the club, trying to catch a glimpse of your friends amongst the throngs of dancers. You didn't feel any desire to rejoin them, or leave your interesting companion quite so soon, but you knew of at least two who were well-known for their short tempers, and you didn't exactly want to be dragged out with your drunken, brawling friends by association...

"I recognize the style... Kolet, isn't it?" You immediately turn back in your seat, stunned he recognized it. "Y-yes! It's the only one I have from her, you've read this one before?" Gods knew, a decent conversation at a club was already a rare-find, but someone not slurring or groping, attractive and recognized the writing styles of your favorite author...?

"No, I don't recognize the plot of this one," He commented, turning a few more pages in emphasis. "The first-editions I have of hers, though, I keep for any spare time I have in my office." You stare at him, jaw dropped.

"You're kidding."

"Serious, as the plague."

"I..." You closed your eyes, picturing those books you've only been able to think about, letting out a small laugh as you turn back in your seat, reaching for your drink. "Gods, you must think I'm insane." Another low chuckle reached your ears as you heard a district sound of the book snapping close, nails tapping along the hard-cover, before a small rustling sound. "I actually find it rather... quaint. Most within this city of mine are consumed by a need for many things, many of which are destructive at best, deadly at worst."

You finish your drink, placing the empty glass back on the counter as long-fingers slide the book back over to you atop the counter. A small, freshly folded piece of paper is on top, and you feel a small hum of caution in the back of your head as you note the symbol pre-printed on the folded side of the paper. It's eerily reminiscent of the symbol you had seen outside, just above the entranceway to the club.

"I believe you expressed that don't normally go to clubs like this, correct?" You blink, and turn to him at the calm, considering note in his voice. The hands in your lap stiffen and curl as you realize he's fully facing you for the first time the entire night, and the glowing red eye seems to pierce through you as you can only silently nod. He smiles, knowingly, like he sees the dawning realization finally showing in your eyes as you realize exactly who you've been chit-chatting with for the last hour. "I see. Well, when you find yourself back within the area, show that to my bouncers. They'll escort you through to my office, if you would enjoy conversing about those first-editions?"

You don't comment how he says 'when' and not 'if.' Or the fact that despite most of your good-sense screaming at you, you already know that you'll be back here eventually. "Thank... thank you, sir, I'd be honored." The seafoam eye blinks slowly, before the kingpin chuckles with his mouth closed, a bemused curl on partially-scarred lips. "Sir... how quaint..." He leaned closer and you can only stare as he once more picks up the book, and the invitation, before passing it gently back over into your numb hands, his own brushing against yours as he pulls back slightly.

You can only stare down at the book in your hands as he mutters lowly enough for your ears only, the smell of spiced cigar smoke close enough for you to sense with each inhale, "But you seem like one with a good memory. So, remember to use my name next time we meet, yes?" You feel you head slowly nod without your permission, and he smoothly leans back and turns on his stool. "Enjoy the rest of your night."

Again, you feel your head nod, your mouth also working without your permission to say,  "You too... Silco."

Another pause, and another faint chuckle, before you look up to watch him fade back into the crowd, even the most inebriated getting the subconscious sensation to part and open the way for the man to sink back into the depths of his club. The large woman with a bionic arm, who'd been leaning against the wall behind the two of you in silence, probably also helped to ward off any potential disturbances on the Industrialists walk back.

You find yourself staring into the crowd after him for an additional moment after you lose sight of him, before you turn back on your seat to face the counter again, absently waving away the bartender, slightly less skittish than normal, attempt to refill your drink. Pulling the book back from where you had instinctively clenched it close to your chest, you stare down at the note atop of it, the uniquely elegant red-drawn eye symbol staring up at you in return.

It takes a moment for your racing mind to focus on just one aspect of the enlightening, and wholly insane hour you had just spent with the de-facto leader of Zaun. Out of everything that's happened, and the total-unknown to come, you can't help but find yourself smiling at the idea of those first-editions, and how little you've heard someone use the word 'quaint' in this world.

#bookworm x crimelord? #more likely than you think! #arcane x reader #arcane x you #lol arcane silco #silco #arcane #arcane silco #silco x y/n #silco x you #silco x reader #sevika #The Last Drop #my writing #Goodreads!verse #arcane fluff #i guess? i mean no one died so i guess it fits #gender neutral #gender neutral reader #arcane fanfic #fanfic

[a-gal-with-taste]

Goodreads (Part 3/Finale)

A/N: Feeling like this will be the last part, I feel like I leave it enough on a good note, enough for y'all to fill in the blanks yourself ;^) A fun, flirty 3-parter, that suggests there's more to the story then what we get, but hopefully leaves a satisfying conclusion nonetheless.

Might come back to it one day, happy to do a few requests for it if asked, but for now, I hope you've enjoyed this mini-trilogy! <3

Warnings: Suggestive elements but SFW. Language, flirting, bit of philosophy-flirtations, tension, implied background violence.

WC/Pairing: 3.1K, Silco X GN!Reader

(Part 1, Part 2)

"'Why do men grovel...'" You begin to quote, slipping into your usual seat. He finishes for you, drink already halfway completed by the bartender you smile to in greeting, "'...as if deaf skies hear their pleas?' That's Yuean, yes? We covered his work last week."

"Nope," Holding out a hand, he presses the glass into your palm without further ado, though he does raise his natural brow at your correction. "Deumynon." Silco denies it immediately, "It's not."

"It is."

"Really?"

You hide your growing smirk behind the rim of your glass. "Deumynon... in collaboration with Yuean. 3rd edition, circa 971." The kingpin, and officially-unoffical King of Zaun, returns a small smirk at you, and lets out a chuckle so rare that the bartender can't help but look over with wide eyes.

Wide eyes that immediately, smartly, turn away before Silco can turn to give him a more-familiar sharp look. "You typically quote more alluring phrases. Groveling doesn't typically suit your speech," He notes casually. You hum, feeling the cool alcohol give a sweet, richer burn to your throat than the typical drinks that would be served at the bar to more average patrons. "For me, no, but I've had to deal with groveling the last couple times I've been here, that's why I came early to try and avoid it. Drunken, whining, and annoying groveling for my attention, for that matter." You sigh, turning slightly in your seat to look over the crowd. "Apparently he hasn't gotten the hint from last time."

Fingers go tight on glass next to you. "This has happened more than once?" Your response is replied with in the same, evenly calm tone, "How long?"

-

How long indeed.

It'd been several weeks since that infamous night you openly chatted with the man at the counter, and since you begun to join Silco in his office. It was becoming a routine at this point, arriving after work a few times a week to speed through the floor-level, avoid the raised brows of his goons hanging out in the downstairs area, before heading upstairs into the office.

You weren't blind to what those raised-brows meant. And you had no doubt the answer to the silent question would only raise them even further, in disbelief and incredulousness, but it was true. You and Silco just talked.

Just talked.

That was it. Talked, sometimes sipping a bit, then perhaps more than a bit of liquor as afternoon slipped into evening, cued in not by clocks, but by the dull thrumming of music beneath you. "To be fair, you located your office atop of a bar in the heart of the Undercity," You gently reminded him after he had slipped back to his desk to nurse his thirst. "You can't be that shocked, you decided to come here."

"Not by choice, I assure you. Conveniency is a tempting thing, and the temptation came at quite an... undoing moment for me." Smoothly returning to the couch, you go to lift your legs from they have stretched out over his spot so he could sit back down. Stopped by the touch of a hand at your ankle, you watch with a bit of a dry mouth as he casually slips it under both, raising them slightly so he could slid in between the space of your legs and the couch.

There's a smugness in his smirk as he oh-so-casually plops your legs down, settled across his lap, that had your ears burning.

Managing to work your mouth, you inquire subtly, "Undoing?" Humming in response, he reclined back onto the cushioned back of the couch, dipping his head back as he took a smooth dip into his drink. "Of sorts. A final haunting of old ghosts, an... acquiration of sorts. And a rather useless, destroyed warehouse, meaning a relocation was necessary on short-notice. My acquired had an idea, that benefited my reorganized goals, and so we ended up here."

You hummed, curious for more, but also knowing better than to push, especially on only the fifth or so date. Shuffling slightly to rest your elbows on the couch-arm behind you, though careful not to move your legs off the comfortable position on Silco's lap, you ask curiously, "Did you have another place in mind?"

Bright green glances out of the corner of his eye to you, brow slightly raised as you elaborate. "You seem to be the man-with-the-plan, I'm curious if you had a ending-destination in mind before you wound up here-" "On this couch with a unique, quaint being such as yourself?" The tease is mild, an attempt at innocent, but you catch the smirk he struggles to keep neutral at your deadpan.

"Do you have a plan? For where you're going to end up in life?" There's a beat, then a curious hum, caught between a sip of hard liquor and your unwavering gaze as he thinks. "Who are you asking?

"...You?"

"Hm." Getting the feeling that it's not exactly what he wanted to hear, you go to repeat the question in a more suitable for his inevitable, cryptic monologue, which you have gotten quite familiar with in between long bouts of silence during your read-alouds, but he surprisingly continues. "Personal goals have always been simplistic for me. Live to see another day, then, live to see Piltover begging for mercy. Live to work, live to envision. Live to survive, live to reach that vision. I've never really sat down and gone over the finer details."

"You do for everything else though," You quip, gesturing around the meticulous, carefully put-together office around the two of you, earning a small huff as his eye flickers. "True, but I suppose it's easier to fine-tune the details around your life, rather than your life itself. Also, it's hardly as if such plans would be granted with ease."

"No, the world just isn't that nice to us." You agreed, tapping your nails on the cover of the forgotten book with a hum. A part of you pondered his earlier inquiry, 'who are you asking?' and decided to be more direct. "If that's the answer from Silco, the leader of Zaun, I want to hear what Silco himself has to say."

"And if I don't have an answer for you right now?" A slow blink as you curled your legs slightly on his lap, reaching up to grip the couch-top to leverage up. Avoiding putting access weight on him, you pull yourself up until your within reaching distance of his face, just as he tilts his head to the side to face you fully.

For a beat, there's only a quiet appreciation between the slim space of air between you. Enough space for it to be hard to pass-off as platonic, should someone stride into the room, but enough that it's comfortable. Tension is there, but it buzzes in the background, muted and benign, heightened only when you begin to speak, just low enough for his hearing only, "You want to hear what I have planned?"

The red eye glows right through you as his other eye falters, going hooded as he gives a nod. You let in a small breath as you feel his palm slide back over your ankle, fingers slowly beginning to slide up over your calf as you taste the faint tinge of scotch still on his tongue before you let a quiet sigh back out. You hadn't even heard him put the glass away, but his hand was more preoccupied with slowly rubbing up and down your leg, rather than any fine, high-classed beverage.

"I plan to wake up, and go about my day as normal." The hand stops and a brow raises, but Silco doesn't comment on the lack of originality. He trusts, or at least expects the half-teasing follow-ups at this point from you, and you don't disappoint. "It's an alright existance, but I plan to have more entertainment in my evenings. Wash away the daily routine of day, with the fun of night."

"A rare desire, truly." He comments dryly, but sees the smirk dancing at the corners of your mouth, mirroring the upward tilt on his own. "Enlighten me, will you? What kind of fun do you plan to have?"

"Oh, the usual." You walked your fingers along the couch tops before slowly, sliding your hand over his relaxed one. "Get dragged off to a party or club every couple weeks. Dance a bit, get bored, go hang out at the bar counter with a classic..." With one hand smoothing up to your kneecap, his other turned to catch you hand in his own, palm against palm.

Silco charmed lowly, "You know, I have the very oddest sensation that I've heard this story before. Rather enjoyed it the first time around, wasn't aware there was to be a sequel."

"Hm, maybe just an expansion." You murmured in response, smirk curving your lips as you saw him lean a bit closer to catch your words. "Story about a stranger meeting stranger at a bar... not the most unique tale, but I still think it's enjoyable." There's a small squeeze from both his hands, the one in yours, and the one slowly shifting towards your thigh, thumb pausing to rub along the outer part. "Oh yes, very much so."

"What else," He continues after a minute of your silence and coy smile under his ministrations, hand stilling as you hum consiteringly, tapping your nails on the book cover you have in your lap. "Probably take up his offer of visitations... spend some quality time with a stranger, becoming a little less like strangers with each visit." You and the de facto leader of Zaun have gotten much closer, you realize suddenly. Close enough to see his eyes flicker briefly from your irises to trail down and watch the movement of your mouth, and close enough for you to see almost every miniscule detail as his lips part slightly, tongue slipping out just enough to slick his lips in a slow, methodical fashion...

You realize that you've completely forgotten what page you're on. Or what book you were reading.

"I rather like that plan. I think it's mutually beneficial, and leads to quite agreeable results..." That hand on your thigh begins to snake up along with his words, causing your breath to hit him as you feel his breath along your mouth as he murmurs, "Perhaps we should proceed to executing it?"

You let out an highly intelligent sound, as reflexive as your skill with the written-word, that vaugely resembles a 'uh-huh,' and there's a small chuckle against you as he goes to close the gap...

"Ew, not you kissin' the 'worm!"

The snort of astonishment, shock and bemusement that comes out of you is overshadowed by Silco's long-suffering sigh, mournfully pulling his hand from your leg to tilt his head back and glance up to the ceiling. "An intellectual, Jinx. Not a worm, those reside outside-" "Nah, ya got a right wormy here. Good thing I came along, ya know how fast the tabloids would pick up the story? I could see the headlines now, 'Scariest Old Man in town smooching a Slimy Little Bookworm-!'"

"Slimy?" You flick the book open in your lap and begin to thumb through the pages, pretending you don't hear the small huff that escapes Silco's mouth when you slip your hand from his. There's a blur of blue in your peripheral as Jinx lands from the rafters above, landing couched before bouncing-up on her toes with her arms spread in the air with an enthused 'ta-da!' "When did I get that reputation?"

"I dunno, it's just for the analogy, now scooch!"

You had to bite down hard on your lower lip as you quickly slipped your legs off of their resting place, said resting-place getting little time to complain as Jinx promptly tossed herself into his lap. The extended groan of pain from the father only made the too-old-to-be-doing-this daughter grin more innocently as she got comfortable, "Wasn't interrupting nothing, was I?" "Nothing we can't pick up at a later time," You assured her, again biting down on your lip as you saw a heterochromatic deadpan glare from atop her blue.

Jinx seemed to approve of your newfound, consistent presence in his life, at the very least, and seemed to find amusement in your calm demeanor in the face of her various, long-list of... quirks. This was hardly the first time she'd interrupted a meeting between you and Silco, either to demand attention from the latter, or muse herself with trying to get a rise out of you, the former.

You admit, the needle had been a bit off-putting, but if you could somehow charm the kingpin of the Underworld into wanting to spend time with you, you figured you could work on being at least an acceptable presence in the eyes of Jinx. "Welp, don't keep us waitin', wormy! Else he's gonna be all white come tomorrow... y'know, cause he's old 'n stuff."

"Ha." Silco reached over to grab his glass of scotch again, smoothly keeping it out of reach when his teenager made an attempt to grab at it. Shaking your head with a chuckle at the moment they were allowing you to witness, you finally caught familiar passages in the book, and believing to have found the page, picked up where you had left off...

-

How long days had gone like that, you weren't entirely sure.

The visits seemed to flow from one to another, minor differences not quite highlighting each visit as one would think, not even Jinx nonconsistant visits or interruptions every so open before skipping out.

The only true constant that made the visits pass as they did, was the ever-nearing closeness between you and Silco, gaps that were steadily closing tighter and tighter with each visitation. As it turned out, physical contact was not exactly the rarity one would imagine in the man known as the Eye of Zaun, at least from behind closed doors. Brief touches, longer slips and barely-present holds against you as the two of you simply sat there and just talked.

Honestly, if it weren't for the small annoyance, however humorous, when you caught a glimpse of Silco's reaction at the missed opportunities to cross the line you'd both been toeing, you'd consiter these the best series of dates in a long, long time.

You and a man, not drunken, with fine drinks, a good book and a sense that you were slowly becoming a comforting presence in this world of discomfort?

Yes, you'd consiter these to be dates, and rather very, very good ones at that.

Still, there were some nights you'd wish there was more. Which is why you were rather intrigued, as he took your hand to lead you from the counter, to one of the booths in the back of the establishment as the nightly crowd began to trickle in, in earnest.

Calm and cool since your admittance of a drunken admirer, the facade was clear to you in the way his hand was near-rigid at the small of your back, only releasing so smoothly move to your front, holding out a hand as he guided you into your seat. "Fancy," You piped out, taking note of one of the few booths not stained, or with faint, likely obscene scribblings left behind by drunken would-be artists. "You use this place often?"

"Yes, quite often."

You hum, turning to buff out some faint dust on the headrest of your seat. "I can tell." Silco merely tips the rest of his scotch back, leaving the empty glass on the corner of the table in cue for another. You watch as he does this, feeling his hand smoothly slide behind your back to curl around your waist, palm at your hip.

"'Subtly is not for the faint of heart, nor the faint of the observant,'" You quoted under breath with a small curl at your lips and a flush at your cheeks, directing your attention to the swirling glass in your own hand. "I'm not exactly going for subtly at this point," He informed you under his own breathing, a slow tap of his nails as he watched the bar-goers already taking places on the dancefloor, tables and counter. "Speaking of, let me know when your problem walks in. I believe I could offer a solution."

"I hope you aren't planning to stain the hardwood for me," Commenting with a light frown, the kingpin responds with a quiet chuckle, melting into a distant hum at your hitched breath. "For you? I have many things planned."

The thumb doesn't stop its slow rub along your hip, and you have to set your glass down with a clink on the table, interlocking your fingers to rest your chin on your hands as you rest your elbows on the table.

"Thought you said didn't have any plans..." Another small smirk, and you're caught under bi-colored eyes as he turns to face you fully. "Funny, you're normally rather precise in your quotations. Slipping up for any particular reason, are you?" The innocent squeeze along your hip makes your breath catch again, and you have to turn your gaze forward in order to get any semblance of your thoughts straighten together.

Silco takes advantage of this to lean close, voice breezing past your ear and raising hairs, "I distinctly remember saying I didn't have plans in that moment. Things have changed since then."

For the sake of habit, he gently guides your glass to reaching-distance when you blindly pat the table for your glass. You down half of it, equally blind, until your eyes focus on a newcomer into the establishment, one you're unfortunately familiar with. "Indigo shirt, just walked in," You mutter, and Silco doesn't even question it, raising his free hand to catch the attention of his closest henchman, directing them with a subtle point.

You watch quietly, once again feeling a small shiver up your spine as he leans close to you once more.

"What do you want me to do?"

A part of you realizes he means with the drunken fool who'd been bothering you, but the louder part of you takes note of his tone. It's the sound of someone who would offer you anything, anything at all that you ask for in that given moment, and as someone who had simply walked into this bar, weeks ago, with the intention of simply immerse yourself in a book.

You find that in the present time, your plans have greatly changed, and you close the book laying in front of you on the book-table.

"Kiss me."

Evidently, it seems that his plans have changed, or perhaps, gone-off without a hitch, for he doesn't skip a beat to heed your demand.

#gimme that good kiss-at-the-end before fade to black troupe 👌 #bookworm x crimelord? #it was more likely than you thought! #thanks for reading <3 #silco #arcane #arcane silco #silco x reader #silco x gender neutral reader #fanfic #goodreads!verse #arcane jinx #jinx was a requirement in this chapter #you cannot tell me she would not poke fun at Silco for falling for a nerd #also i have fun writing her #jinx #completed #my writing

[a-gal-with-taste]

Goodreads (Pt 2)

Summary: Countinuation of Goodreads

Warnings: SFW. Language, brief threats/allusions to violence, tension, a bit of exploring/figuring out power-dynamics, but ultimately just two, not-so-strangers, meeting once more.

Pairing: Silco X GN!Reader

Wordcount: 2.4k

Part 3/Finale

Knuckles tightening slightly on the strap of your bag, you resist the urge to squirm under the judgemental glare of the guard standing before you. "...It's legitimate." Your claim, repeated twice now, is once more met with an unimpressed raise of a brow, and swallowing, you attempt to smile, an action that would normally invite a punch, but you hope your cordial tone and open body-langauge spares you from a blow. "He gave it to me himself, last week..."

The brow raises further upwards. "The boss passed you a get-in-free note?"

"Yeah, when we were talking out by the bar, he invited me to come and see his... book... collection..." A loud, painfully loud pause occurs that immediately has your face burning. You close your eyes, reaching up to pinch the bridge of your nose in an effort to resist the strong urge to smack yourself in the face, doing this goon a favor. You can practically hear how it sounds, even in this total-silence of disbelief, 'Why yes, the reigning, drug-peddling overlord of the entire Undercity asked me to come hang out at his place to read. Can you please point me to his door?'

Any nerves you had to even show up here again are quickly fading, and you go to turn on a heel as you mutter an embarrassed 'y'know, never mind-'

Then a metal arm clamps down on your shoulder from behind, and you, wisely, decide not to move another muscle.

"He said he wants this one sent in without any hold-ups." "This one?" You can't help the indignant scoff at the guards equally-indignant tone, and fight the instinctive urge to reach for your knife in defense when he hears it and glares at you. The grip on your shoulder tightens, "Yep, this one. Straight-on through. You want to be the one that goes and tells him no?" The thug's throat goes tight, before he swallow thickly, expression otherwise attempting to remain impassive.

It doesn't relieve you of any of the simmering concern you have for your... gracious host. The man already has half the undercity cowering, but his twice-as-large, thrice as muscular thugs too?

Well, apparently, except for the woman behind you, who gives a not-so gentle shove to her subordinate before urging you forward into the mostly-empty Last Drop. You catch your feet to avoid an embarrassing trip to the floor as you're guided into the building, but you already feel the stares and raised brows of those inside, nursing hangovers or playing cards at the table.

The decision to come in during daytime, you thought, had been a wise one. You imagined that your... unique bar-conversationalist would be the least busy at this time, or, perhaps busy enough that he would merely greet you, before blessedly sending you on your way without further incident. You foolishly forgot to account that he absolutely would keep his henchmen at hand around the clock, even long before the establishments operating hours, and silently pray that your foolish choice to reappear around here, unannounced, isn't going to end on him siccing the lot after you.

You keep your face carefully neutral as you pass the card-players, a life in Zaun having taught you to keep your gaze forward, unprovoking. It doesn't fool everyone though, as the woman behind you scoffs underbreath as you make it to the stairwell in the back, "Think louder, will you? Got half the place shaking with the speed your damn head is going."

"That obvious?" "Damn right it's obvious. Keep it down, or you won't survive."

You let out a small swear as your toe skips on a step up the stairs, catching yourself on the railing before you could go all the way down. Ignoring a snicker from some of the observers at ground level as you turn, facing the taller woman with narrowed brows and a raised chin. You recognized her from where she had stood guard by the bar the week prior, and you recognize that street-tilt in her voice, nearly matching your own, "I grew up right here in the undercity, same as you. I know how to survive, thank you very much." She raises a brow, giving you a slow up-and-down that you refuse to falter from.

"The Lanes? Sure, bet you do, but this-" The bionic arm whirrs quietly, and you inhale sharply as your shoulder is once more captured for her to turn you back around, giving a insistent nudge to continue your climb. "-this is a new kind of playground. So try to keep up."

With those words, you ironically end up stopping in front of the arched, polished-wood door on the second-floor. The two guards posted on either side outside here don't even give you a glance, and after a knock and a final not-shove through the door before it snaps shut behind you, you find yourself into the office of the most powerful person in all the Underground.

And you're not alone, as the man sitting on opposite of the desk immediately shoots to his feet, whirling around with hand launching to an currently-empty holster. You'd laugh, and not take an immediate step back with heart lurching into your throat, if this was anyone else but an Enforcer in front of you.

"My, my... so jumpy, Marcus? And here I thought you'd finally been progressing on growing that nonexistant spine." You flick your eyes from the agitated Topsider to the man of the hour, who's watching with the faintest tilt of his lips, and a darkness in his mortal eye that almost rivals the red one. They equally flick towards you, and after a beat, he offers a single nod, giving you a smooth, "Welcome back." You aren't able to discern anything else in his expression, but then again, you're not able to keep your attention on him long as the armored Enforcer takes a step towards you.

"Whose this? We don't normally have an audience, Silco." The Piltovian doesn't move his gaze from you, even as you snap your gaze back to watch his hand curl into a tight fist, once he realizes his lack of weaponry. He still tries to kill you with his glare. "An insignificance, sheriff, they aren't a bother and they know to keep to themselves..." You find yourself a bit too preoccupied with trying to keep from whipping around and racing out the door, to be offended at the newfound 'insignificance' status. Distantly, a desk-drawer snaps shut, and you're spared from being visually-murdered by the Enforcer sheriff as Silco smoothly cuts in front of him to step up to you.

You raise your gaze to meet the dueling ones almost immediately, taking in the calm, but cool curve of his mouth as he meets your own under a hooded eyelid. You feel something, a book you realize, pressed into your frozen hands before he tilts his head slowly to the left, gaze stuck to yours as he quietly orders, "Go take a seat... get comfortable. I'll be with you in a minute." You realize his fingers are warm against your own as he presses the reading material closer to you to enunciate his wish. You don't need to be told twice, gripping the book lightly before turning to the plush, elegant couch he's directed you too.

Silco turns on a heel and strides with confidence, back to his desk, letting out a small sigh as Marcus hisses, "I don't think we can wrap this up in a minute-" "Try, Marcus. I'm a busy man, you're hardly my sole appointment for the day..."

Attention now diverted from you, you don't dare draw it back by releasing the loud exhale your frozen body demands, instead silently, quickly, taking the seat on the furthest-corner of the couch like you're ducking behind a shield. You tune out the two quickly, redirecting your focus to smoothly slipping your back off your shoulder and lowering it to the floor as quietly as possible, before letting out a silent breath and looking down at the book in your hands.

Your earlier mortification at the front door, the assessment and then the potential of facing down death-via-Enforcer-glare fades immediately as you run your fingertips over the decorative front cover in your hands. The golden-accents border-lining the edges are wore with age, and the spine was loose with usage, but that hardly diminished your eagerness. Any remaining anxiety of where you were, and who you were with faded to the far background as you found yourself flipping the cover open, hungry eyes already skimming over pages.

Familiarizing yourself with a writing-style you already know by heart, you're blind and deaf to the rest of the meeting wrapping up in the room, until you hear another definitive click of a drawer snapping shut, and you look up in time to feel a chill as the Enforcer, Marcus, gets his confiscated gun handed back. Silco is of course unbothered as the man holsters his weapon, taking out a guillotine and a fresh cigar to snip while Marcus turns to you. "I trust we won't have interruptions next we meet?" You quickly drop your gaze down before you can be caught staring, but you feel the glare burn all the same.

"Well, I trust that you'll learn to pay no attention to the... unimportant details. You seem to have this bad habit, nitpicking at the minute and blind to the bigger picture." There's a click of a lighter, and the faint smell of spice in the room gets a bit stronger with a low exhale. "I'd work on that habit. It could make things dangerous for you if you don't." You keep your nose tucked into the book, a life of skimming around tense-situations assisting in keeping your breathing even. You still feel the tightness of the room, only loosening at the muted growl of frustration, then sharp, heavy boots turning and striding out the door, which slams shut after a second.

You keep your breathing carefully even nonetheless. Especially as you hear the smooth sound of steps approaching you.

"You haven't read a thing, have you?" You lower the book and lift your head, and a part of you is relieved that his gaze is still focused on the doorway his meeting-partner had stormed out of. His green eye is impassive, face carved from marble in his neutrality, but you see the tense flex in the grip he has around a cigar. "I've... only gotten a few pages in." You admit, raising the book a bit for emphasis. "It's all new to me, I like to take my time with new things, savor them and all that..." You trail off as he tilts his gaze back to you, ruined eye and non-ruined meeting yours casually, thoughts obscure behind the cool gaze.

After a moment, he hums. "Good call."

The he makes a vauge gesture with his fingers, and he's halfway sitting down beside you before you realize it's a gesture to scooch over, and you immediately shuffle back to further press yourself on the couch. Pretending like you hadn't jumped when his hand, moving to rest on the headrest of the seat, brushes faintly against your neck.

He makes himself at home quick, one leg crossed over the other with both arms spread over the top as he settles in, before pulling one arm back to his face to press the cigar between his lips. You watch as the smoother cheek puffs a bit with his concentrated inhale, the tiny embers at the end of the stick simmering brightly with the long-practiced motions.

As he pulls the cigar away, the silent sigh exhaling the mouthful of smoke, you realize your lips have parted slightly, and are now dry, as you faintly taste the spiced, and oddly sweet, tinge in the air between you.

Silco smoothly turns his head towards your side of the couch and catches your staring immediately, glowing red eye pinning you in place like the couch is now a corkboard.

Your mouth snaps shut, teeth clacking together as you duck your head back to the book in your hands, fingers digging slightly into the pages as a bemused huff sounds. "Caught sight of something you like?"

There's a challange beneath his chuckle, a dare.

Your eyes close briefly, and you take a breath, remembering this is the head of the Undercity, the murderer, kingpin, crimelord, the Eye of Zaun...

Then you smirk and raise your chin back up to meet his own coy, smirking expression full-on. Yes, all those titles are true. But this is also the same man from the bar. "Oh yes,"  You raise the closed book in your hands, tapping your nails along the spine as you present it. "First editions are hard to find in such... great condition." You let your eyes slowly rove over the reclined, suave-posed form of the man. "And I rather like the prose of this one as well... though I haven't had much taste of the infamous monologues yet."

The pointed raised-brow in his direction, along with your smirk, hits home. Your flirtatious joke earns you a wider-smirk on the unscathed side of his face, and a roll of his wrist, smolder curling in the air from the cigar tip at the movement. You smoothly elbow yourself from where you were half-sitting on the armrest, rolling your shoulders back into the cushioned back-rest as you settle in.

If you lean back, and high enough to brush the nape of your neck against his reclined hand behind you, neither of you mention it. "Start from the beginning, it's been a while since I've read." You watch Silco out of the corner of your eye as he his head reclines back, bringing the cigar to his mouth as he closes his eyes. Directing your focus to the book, you hum as you flip back to the first page.

"You got any plans for... after we finish this, or am I just here as a reading-companion?" You muse, before your breath hitches as his fingers smoothly skim on the skin at the back of your neck. You glance back towards Silco, but his eyes remain close as he blows up a circle of smoke up to the ceiling.

"Oh, I quite don't know yet... let's savor this, take our time, and all that..." The words you used earlier being parroted back with a musing tilt to his tone made you swallow but smile, something akin to eagerness and curiosity at the future of your relationship with a stranger at a bar, the Eye of Zaun.

Finding yourself eager to get started, you flip to the first page, settle back on the knuckles that brush casually along your hairline, and began to read.

#again #bookworm x crimelord? #more likely than you think! #arcane #arcane silco #silco x gender neutral reader #silco x y/n #silco x you #arcane sevika #arcane marcus #silco #arcane fanfic #arcane x reader #silco x reader #my writing