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ughthisisntright · 10 months

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Puzzles & Pieces | Silco x Reader | Part 3

Summary: You've turned to a new friend, but Silco may be hot on your tail.

Warnings: NSFW, MDNI, 18+, female masturbation, general Arcane warnings

Word Count: 2,160

Next Part

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Your feet hit the slippery stone walkways as you made your way to the home of your esteemed friend, Jayce Talis. Or, as he was better known now, Councilor Talis. You cringed at the pomp and circumstance of the title. Did the people in Piltover really need all these bells and whistles?

No matter, you were here for a reason. You knocked on the door and were greeted by his lovely mother, smile and all, and a warm hug. A flurry of questions and compliments floated you to the young man’s bedroom where he was sitting at a rickety desk with a pencil in-hand. You knocked gently as his mother walked away, humming a tune. Jayce turned around and smiled immediately upon seeing you.

“Wow, how long has it been?” He stood and gave you a hug, which you graciously returned. He then offered you his chair so you could sit. You sat down and took a deep breath. Seeing the trouble on your face, he immediately changed his demeanor.

“I thought I would let you know… There’s trouble in paradise, Jayce,” you looked up at him with worry written all over your expression. “Silco is planning a revolution of some sort.”

His eyes widened at the mention of a revolution. He leaned back against the wall behind him and put a hand on his face.

“You’re certain?” He questioned. You nodded solemnly. He let out a sigh and ran the hand down his face. He shook his head and appeared to have dived into thought. You sat with him in silence for a while. He always appreciated silence when he was thinking, after all.

“Okay,” he said after a while. “What do you want me to do about that?”

A relieved smile came across your features at this.

______________________________________________________________________

You tapped the end of your pen against the notepad in front of you anxiously, chewing on the inside of your cheek. You had been writing down supply orders for Silco when you’d zoned out completely, thinking about the true intention for the items coming in these shipments. Was he learning to weaponize shimmer? Was he trying to scare them? Or was it something entirely sinister and fuelled by a thirst for power?

Tap tap tap.

Your heart rate picked up at the very thought of war with Piltover. It wasn’t something you’d ever seen, or even thought of occurring in your lifetime.

Tap tap tap.

Jayce’s words bounced in your head as you tried to calm yourself. “I’ll work on the council,”

Tap tap tap.

“You focus on him.” That was the problem - you can’t stop focusing on Silco.

Tap tap tap.

“Are you trying to kill me?” A bored voice sounded from behind you. Directly behind you.

You turned and came face-to-face with Silco. His good eyebrow was cocked curiously and he stared down at you like a parent might stare at their child when scolding them. You shook your head slowly and then realized it was your incessant tapping that pissed him off.

“I-I’m sorry,” you said sheepishly. “I must’ve been lost in my own thoughts.” You set the pen down and looked down at your paper. Nothing telling, fortunately, but Silco could definitely tell that there was something bothering you.

“Try to stay focused on our cause, child,” he all but spat at you. “You know I have no time for daydreaming.” A frantic nod of your head satiated his anger as he was walking away slowly to his desk.

You turned the thought over in your head - was this still your cause, too? You wanted independence, but you weren’t convinced this was the way to go about it. He was hellbent on destroying Piltover. But they were just products of generational oppression. They didn’t create it. At least, not the current council. They certainly don’t do anything to change it, though. But they seem more amenable to talks of peace and independence than the previous council. In all your years of research for Silco, you’d gathered that much.

You turned your attention back to the shipping manifest in front of you. It looked more like supplies for Jinx to make more bombs and other artillery. You sighed heavily and signed off on it before setting it aside. It was going to be a long day.

______________________________________________________________________

Silco called your name, much like he normally does when he’s exhausted. Without even having to say anything, you were up and pouring him a drink. You took out the bottle of whiskey and carefully took the cap off. You grabbed a glass and examined it for any blemishes. You then set an ice cube into the glass carefully before letting the whiskey pour over the frozen chunk, watching it melt ever so slightly.

You walked the glass over to his desk and set it down gently on a coaster in the corner of his desk. You were about to turn to put everything away, though, something new happened today.

Silco grabbed your wrist gently, much unlike the usual way he snatches your hands up in the possessive way he does. You turned to look at him and his face was not scrunched in displeasure, rather, it was calm and content.

“You pour me drinks every day,” he said softly. “You deserve one, too, don’t you think?”

You swallowed hard and let your lips part slightly before you nodded your head slowly. He stood slowly, releasing your wrist, and walked over to the beverage cart. He poured your whiskey for you and came back with the glass in his hand.

“I can’t help but notice you seem out of sorts today, my dear,” he said smoothly. You sipped the whiskey carefully.

“I can’t help but be out of sorts, sir,” you smirked up at him. He took a step closer and tilted his head slightly.

“And why is that?” He challenged.

“Jinx,” you started. “She told me some things about the operation here. Things I’m sure you didn’t want me to know.”

An angry twitch of his eye proved that you were not, in fact, supposed to know. He acted carefully, however. He wouldn’t do anything until he knew your intentions.

“And?”

“I’ve just been thinking about it. What war would look like between us and Piltover,” you continued. “I don’t like the thought but…” You then remembered Jinx’s words - Silco’s words. And just then, you realized exactly what you needed to do.

“These things are necessary for this kind of change, I suppose.”

His lips quirked up into a smirk. He set his glass down and took yours from your hands, setting it down on his desk as well.

“You’re talking like I once did,” he said in a low, hushed tone. “If I didn’t know better I’d say you’re trying to butter me up for something.” His hands trailed up your arms slowly.

You shook your head frantically but remained in place. Your lips parted to say something but he pressed his finger to them gingerly.

“Don’t,” he said softly. “If you are to assist me properly with this cause it’s better for you to understand the motives behind it. Jinx may have let a little too much information slip, but something tells me from the way you constantly observe me that you already had your suspicions.

“I expect you to assist me without hesitation, without question, and without a doubt in your mind that this is what we need to be free.” He leaned in closer to your face, lips simply a breath away from yours. “Do we understand each other?”

You nodded gently, staring into his grand teal eye. He seemed to enjoy seeing you this way, small and completely beholden to him. He slowly gripped your waist, pulling you in flush against his chest.

“Tell me,” he purred. “What else did Jinx tell you?” He pressed the side of his head against yours and spoke directly into your ear. “Did she tell you about all the other dealings I manage? About the dirty deeds I need done?”

“No…” Your voice came out more breathless than you had wanted. “She only told me you planned on freeing Zaun.”

“I see,” he chuckled softly and moved his hands from your hips up your shirt, calloused fingertips grazing the smooth skin of your sides. A shiver ran down your spine, causing you to press further into him.

Not that you minded, anyway.

“So given you haven’t quit,” his fingers brushed the fabric of your thin bra just above where sparks began to fly. “You’ll stick by me, yes?”

“Yes,” you breathed. He slid one hand out from under your shirt and ran his fingers through your hair, gently grabbing a fistful and pulling your head back to look him in the eye. He looked down at you with what could only be described as hunger. You wondered in that moment if he’d been this intimate with someone in the last decade.

“Good,” the word left his lips just before they connected with your neck. He backed you up against the wood of his desk and you hit it with a thud. Shoving you onto the surface, your legs wrapped around his waist as he ravaged your neck. Your shaky hands finally found purchase on his vest, making fumbling movements to unbutton it. He caught you, however, shaking his head and smirking.

“I’m not in that much of a rush, darling,” he mused. “You’ll have to learn to be more patient.” His fingers dipped into the valley between your legs. Rubbing your clothed mound firmly, you found yourself letting out a small moan. Something was lit inside Silco’s body as he reeled back and smacked you there, a shriek escaping your lips.

“I’ll have to teach you,” he cooed. “Good thing you’re my assistant, otherwise this would be even more excruciatingly slow for you.”

“Sil… Silco…” your pitiful whimper was silenced by his finger once again. You shook your head frantically and parted your lips against his digit.

“Ah, ah,” he chuckled softly and pulled you off the desk. “Back to those manifests,” he carefully pulled you off his desk, straightening out your clothes for you, before turning to go back to his chair. You walked in a daze to your seat, running a hand through your hair as you sat down. A shaky breath left your lungs and you pulled that pen back into your hand.

Eyes scanning over the manifests for the rest of the day, the ghost of Silco’s hands tickled your body every so often when you found yourself thinking about what had happened earlier. You hadn’t been so obvious with your staring and observing that he saw what laid beyond those inquisitive glances and eyebrow quirks, have you? You refused to believe you were as desperate as the whores at Babette’s, even if you had been one once before. You could say with confidence that you were once desperate, but now, you had a second chance.

Old habits must really die hard in the Lanes.

Once home, in the quiet confines of your own little apartment, you laid down in your bed and allowed yourself to go over what had happened that day completely. You’d began your plot to free Zaun without violence, you’d connected more dots as to what Silco’s plan was, and then… Silco put his hands on you.

He put his lips on you.

Tingly sensations bloomed from your aching core; he’d really left you high and dry. Chasing a release, even if just for a moment, you found yourself slithering your hand down into your panties. Your middle finger dipped into your entrance to gather some of your warm slick. You dragged it up over your clit and rubbed small, soft circles over it. Teasing. Just like he’d done to you. You closed your eyes and imagined Silco instead of your hand.

His slender fingers curling and uncurling inside your tightness, just as you were doing right now. His tongue licking your clit and lips sealing around it to suck harshly. The thought alone made you moan out loud. You saw the animalistic look in his eye when he’d ad you right where he wanted you. Did he know just how badly you wanted him?

You choked out a moan as your orgasm washed over you. It hit you suddenly, unannounced, but nonetheless blissful and needed. Your breaths came out ragged and you slipped your hand from your panties. Licking yourself off your fingers, you sighed softly at the thought of Silco doing the same. You got up to relieve yourself, washed your hands, and got back into bed, pulling the covers up over yourself and closing your eyes. Silco’s voice sounded in your head, taunting you with his promise of a slow build. How it wouldn’t be too bad, or as excruciating as it could be.

No, you thought. It’s going to be even more painful, now, Silco.

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beef-bakery · 2 years

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Betwixt Fate and Circumstance - Lovelorn 2

Summary: after your less than ideal last encounter, you go to great lengths to avoid Silco. Unfortunately, fate has other plans for you.

Rating: Silco x F!Reader - SFW - 2.7k words

Warnings: drinking, blood and gore (not terribly explicit, but mentioned offhandedly), aftermath of a depressive episode, cliffhanger whoops

Part 1 / Next part

You hadn't gone back to The Last Drop since the incident, your cheeks heating at the mere thought of going back to the crime scene.

You let yourself mope for a while, finally pulling yourself together after the fourth day. You washed away the grime, feeling better with each splash of the water. The refreshing feeling was almost enough to ignore the hollowness that burrowed into the pit of your stomach.

You cleaned up the trash that had accumulated on your apartment floor: empty soup cans, plates you had left dirty in your haste to get back to the comfort of your bed, and used tissues. Dear Janna, there were so many tissues. The first day you had nearly rubbed your eyes raw with them, silently screaming at yourself to quit crying over someone who never wanted you.

You grimaced as you picked them up by the handfuls. You were eager to rid yourself of them: the sooner you could abandon the bad memories they represented, the sooner you could move on.

Cleaning up took a few hours, and by the time you finished, it was nearly 7. And if things were as you remembered, you could clock in for your shift tonight.

You grabbed on your coat from the chair, remembering how you had clutched it to your chest like an anchor that night, weaving through the dispersing crowds at a hasty speed. Your grip around the fabric tightened before burying it in the back of your closet, opting for a different one.

Taking a deep breath, you looked around your apartment before locking the door and heading to The Last Drop.

The Last Drop was nearly empty. Not that you were expecting it to be packed: it was extremely early in the sense of the evening.

Vander was behind the bar when you walked in, drying a glass. His eyes flicked to yours when the bell tinkled, a greeting dying on his lips once he saw you. His eyes widened as he put down the glass, throwing the rag over his shoulder. He said your name almost silently, as if he didn't really believe you were actually there.

“Hey,” you said weakly, expecting him to chide you for blowing off several pre-planned missions. To your surprise, he only enveloped you in a hug.

“So, you're not mad?” you asked him when he finally pulled away.

“Oh, I'm mad,” he said, placing his hands on his hips and doing a fair imitation of what you’d imagine a mother to be. “But I understand, and that's worth more than my anger.”

You nodded, feeling tears well up in your eyes. This time was far different from the last time you cried, full of gratitude and understanding instead of sorrow.

“It's honestly my fault, and I didn't get to apologize.” Vander rubbed the back of his head. “I know I was drunk and all, but it was never my place to-”

“It's okay,” you said suddenly, cutting him off. “I got my answer, and even though it's not what I wanted, I know it now, and it's better to find out this way rather than… I don't know, asking him out with a grand gesture or something.” You were rambling at this point, unsure as to whether or not you were trying to soothe Vander or yourself. You found that there was an unexpected truth in your words: you were, in a way, glad that you had found out. Perhaps you would have preferred something more tactful, but there was no changing what was already done. “My point is, I'm not mad either.”

Vander smiled widely, although there were still hints of concern in his eyes. “Are you here for your shift?”

“Yeah.” You rubbed the back of your head awkwardly. Vander had slipped into his business persona so quickly you hadn't had time to register it.

“Hmm,” Vander rubbed his beard in thought. “We weren't expecting you to come in today so we did schedule another bartender, but I can get someone to notify her.”

You smiled gratefully. “Thanks, it means a lot.”

He nodded absently as he headed to the back, muttering something to himself about whether or not he should send someone or go himself. You breathed a sigh of relief. You hadn’t gotten yelled at and you had a job tonight to keep you from your own thoughts.

Standing at the bar made you remember why you preferred going on missions as opposed to being the barkeep. The bar was in full swing and you were working harder than ever. Sweat had accumulated as a sheen on your forehead as you moved swiftly behind the counter.

“Just a second,” you said hastily to the man standing on the other side, who was trying to occupy himself by looking around. You scooped a sloppy cup of ice, spilling a few cubes on the floor. “Shit,” you whispered under your breath, quickly assembling the drink and pushing it into the man's hand with a quick apology.

You turned around and dropped to your knees, scooping up the ice cubes you had dropped on the floor. Once you had gathered all of them, you got to your feet and promptly dropped all them with a yelp.

Blue eyes bore into yours from across the counter. “Fuck,” you swore, dropping once more to the dirty floor to pick up the melting ice.

“How's the view from down there?” Silco asked cheekily, resting his head on his chin, looking down on you from underneath his long eyelashes.

“Better now that I'm not looking at you,” you muttered, falling into old habits before remembering yourself.

You wiped him from your mind and focused on picking up the cubes one at a time, desperate to avoid eye contact. You knew that if you kept conversing with him like everything was normal, you'd regret it in the morning, when you found yourself falling for him all over again.

He let out a low chuckle that yanked something in your heart. You straightened and dumped the ice into the sink, rubbing the excess water onto your apron before fixing him with what you hoped was a businesslike stare.

“Is there anything I can get you?” you asked, deadpan. His eyes danced with amusement as he observed your change in demeanor.

“So businesslike,” he said, fluttering his eyelashes. You repeated your question, stone-faced. He frowned. Usually his provoking proved successful, you snapping back with a comment, him retorting back, ending with the two of you bantering for hours.

“Uh, I'll have a whisky, neat,” he said, still processing what could've caused your abrupt change in behavior.

You poured two fingers before sliding the cup over to him and helping the next customer. Silco took his drink a couple of chairs over and watched you work, sipping slowly as he pondered what he could've done.

Once Silco was out of your line of sight, you let out a breath of air. It wasn't that looking at him made you cry. It was more so that looking at him reminded you of how you felt, and how he didn't reciprocate the feelings.

Turning to the next customer, you overcompensated, smiling cheerily: “What can I get for you?”

“I'll have a beer.” He smiled at you, showing chipped teeth. You didn't recognize him, so either he’d been recruited within the last four days while you’d been gone, or he wasn’t a member of the Children of Zaun.

You told him the cost and he slipped the amount into your hand, purposefully brushing your fingers. “Keep the change, sweetheart,” he said with a wink.

You smiled at him to cover up the disgust that welled up inside of you. As you grabbed the beer out of the refrigerator you felt a gaze on your ass. You quickly tugged your skirt down. Yes, you’d worn this skirt to get more tips this evening, but it always surprised you how earnest customers were to engage in perverted behaviors.

You turned around, a false smile cemented on your face. You held the drink out for the man, gritting your teeth silently.

“Thanks, love,” he said, making no move to leave. Your eyes unconsciously flicked to Silco, who had his tumbler in a death grip.

You thought you spotted something in his scrutiny. Was it… jealousy? You quickly wiped that thought from your mind. There was no use in making fantasies from unfortunate reality, especially not with him. You had to move on, or, at the very least, keep him at the back of your mind.

“Is there something I can help you with?” you asked, resolve growing thin.

“Yes, actually. Would you like to go out with me sometime?” he asked, flashing you what he probably believed to be a winning smile.

“You're too funny,” you laughed politely, your stomach churning at the thought of going anywhere with this foul man. When he didn't reciprocate, your laughs grew awkward. You switched to your go-to response in this situation. “Actually, um, I'm already spoken for.”

The man’s eyebrows shot up to his forehead. “Oh! I'm so sorry.” You laughed awkwardly again, desperately wanting him to leave. “Yeah, don't worry about it, it actually happens all the time.”

He turned around to walk somewhere far away from you. “Have a nice night!” you called after him.

Feeling another gaze, this time on your neck, you turned around. Silco gave you a pointed look before loudly sipping his drink and spinning around on the barstool.

He kept his distance for a while after that, and you couldn't decide if you were grateful or frustrated. Yes, in the previous situation, you’d been the one doing the avoiding, but now you only felt shittier than ever. It had been a while since you’d last seen him, and you’d been on bartender duty ever since you blew off your missions.

“You need to earn our trust back,” Vander had said with his arms crossed, although there was no malice in his expression.

You supposed it was fair, but it didn't make serving drinks any more exciting. You were closing up when Silco stumbled in.

“Look,” you said, annoyed after a long day of work. “I know you're a Son of Zaun or whatever, but you don't get special treatment unless you want to pour your own drink and clean up after yourself.”

Silco’s eyes flicked up to you, and you could see that he was in no mood for games. “Does it look,” he said through gritted teeth, “like I'm looking for a drink?” Silco moved his hand to the side, revealing a long, bloody gash running down the side of his ribs.

“Holy shit,” you breathed, dropping the rag you were wiping the counter down with and walking briskly toward him. “What happened?”

He collapsed in the nearest chair, wincing as he sat. “I was up in Topside, ran into some enforcers who could tell I was ‘zauntie trash.’ Long story short, they roughed me up in an alleyway and I landed on a rusty… pole? I don't even know what it was.”

“Why would you? Who gets injured and immediately wants to know exactly what kind of rusty material they landed on?” Silco laughed at that but quickly stopped, flinching at the pain it brought.

You helped him take off his coat, taking in a sharp breath when you saw how bad it was.

“Stay right here. I'll go get the first aid kit.” You pushed through the employee’s only door and reached for the first aid kit inside the cabinet. Heading back out, you saw that not only had Silco taken off his coat, but he was beginning to unbutton his shirt. Unsuccessfully, you noted.

“Hey, stop, let me help,” you said, reaching out for him. His fumbling hands relented and allowed you to finish the job.

You finally got his shirt undone, gently slipping it off his injured side. He grimaced and you gave him an apologetic look. “Sorry,” you whispered.

“It's fine,” he grunted out, shifting to his good side.

You observed the wound, lightly running your fingers over it. He took a sharp breath and you stopped, looking up at him. Silco nodded, letting his breath out slowly.

“It was rusty?” you asked, continuing your examination. He nodded. “You know that for sure?” He nodded again. “Alright,” you said, reaching for the bottle of vodka you had snagged on the way back.

Unscrewing the cap, you poured a small amount onto a rag. You looked up at him for confirmation. He nodded, looking away. After a moment, you abandoned the rag and began pouring the alcohol directly into the gash. The wound was deep, after all. Stifling a scream, Silco covered his mouth and twisted in his seat, only furthering his pain.

“Hey, hey, don't move, it's only going to hurt more.” You were going for soothing, only it came out as more of a chide. He glared at you from behind his hand and slowly turned back, vodka and blood oozing from the lesion.

You dabbed at the liquid secreting from the open wound, trying to apply as little pressure as possible. “Stop moving,” you chided as he leaned down and took a swig of the liquor. “Stop that, it's the good stuff.”

“You're really using the ‘good stuff’ on me? I'm touched, truly.” He placed a hand over his heart in mock warmth. You rolled your eyes and threaded a needle. “Hey, hey whoa there, wanna discuss where that needle is going?”

“What's there to be discussed?” you said absently, focusing on the thread. “You're gonna need sutures, and I don't see anyone else around to help.”

Silco huffed. “It still would've been nice if you told me in advance.”

“I did,” you said as you stabbed the needle through his flesh, pulling it out the other side. He flinched away, causing you to grab his good arm and pull him closer to you. You were a breath apart. “Stop moving.” you whispered, trying to pull your gaze away from him. You looked into his eyes as something darker filled them.

His yelp pulled the two of you out of your trance as you looked down and saw that you had pulled the thread too tight. “Fuck, I'm sorry.”

“It's fine,” he said, looking back up at you. You didn't see, focused on stitching him up as quickly as possible. It wasn’t good for you to be in such close proximity to him, especially in such an intimate moment.

“Hey,” he said after a couple moments of silence. “Talk to me.”

“I can't,” you said. “I'm busy trying not to sew your arm to your abdomen.”

“I'm serious.” You paused to look up at him; it looked like he was staring at you with something akin to tenderness. You pushed that thought away. You were definitely imagining things. Maybe you were delirious from something gone rotten over at Jericho’s stall.

“What's there to talk about?” you asked stiffly, avoiding eye contact once more. It was only when your chin was grasped between his forefinger and thumb that you finally looked up.

“You've been avoiding me,” he said plainly. You pulled yourself from his grasp and looked away.

“I really don't want to talk about this.”

“You were gone for four days, and I've tried to give you space, but clearly something is wrong and you need to talk about it.”

“There's nothing to talk about.” You could tell you’d pulled that next stitch a bit too tight from the way he flinched. “Sorry.” you added lamely.

“Look, is this about-”

“No,” you said a bit too quickly. “It doesn't have anything to do with you.” You knotted the thread, getting to the end of the sutures. You cut the thread and stood, stiffly tidying the kit. Silco was silent, observing you. The silence was becoming unbearable.

“Look, I have other people to talk to about this kind of thing,” you said at last.

“Like who?” The words were accusatory, but the delivery was soft, almost caring.

“Vander, Benzo…” you trailed off. Silco opened his mouth. “Regardless, I have people. You don't need to worry about me.”

You got up quickly, leaving him with his words going unsaid.

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