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juniper-sunny · 1 year

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The Art in the Heart - Chapter 11

The completion of the mural steers your relationship with Silco into a new direction…

Everybody Lives AU | Pre-Act 1 | Silco x Reader | Female!Reader | Slow Burn | Eventual Smut | Fluff | Mild Angst || SFW | WC: 2.62k

ao3 || Masterlist || Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 3.5 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 7.5 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10

taglist (open): @sherwood-forests @deny-the-issue @let-the-monster-out @ariaud @joscelyn02 @crunchlite @sheacrowley

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It’s hard to believe that you were ever afraid of Silco leaving you, when he’s on your bed right now, sitting close enough for you to touch him. The fabric of his shirt is soft against your cheek as you lean against his shoulder. You look up at him; he stares out your window, but he wraps an arm casually around you, pulling you in closer.

The worries you had earlier this morning seem so distant now. As if they belonged to another person…

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Silco and you had both continued doing chores at the orphanage, then enjoyed brunch in the cafeteria. Trying not to giggle when the children’s eyes grew wide as Silco walked past their tables. When you were about to admonish them for gawking, he reassured you that he didn’t mind. He even made funny faces back at Powder when she stared straight at him.

When you both finished eating, Teema had then insisted you both leave.

“Our girl here already works too much. Take her out and have some fun, won’t you?” the older woman had directed this question at Silco, failing miserably at giving him a surreptitious wink.

“For once, I agree with Teema,” chuckled Cuny. The two of them had shooed you out the front doors.

You had sheepishly apologized for their behavior again. He had said it was fine, and reiterated that he didn’t have any other plans for the day. Pointedly reminding you that he meant to stay by your side until your stalker was dealt with. So first, you both stopped by your studio, picking up the supplies you used to protect the mural from the weather. It was going to be another rainy night.

On the roof of the mural, you had asked again, “Are you sure you don’t—”

“No, I do not have any other plans. Yes, I do intend to accompany you for as long as you’ll have me,” Silco had recited. “Please don’t ask me again.”

A crazy impulse seized you: to tell him that you’ll have him forever, until the end of your days. You had bitten your tongue hard then, punishing yourself for the outlandish thought.

Then Silco had asked if he could introduce you to another friend of his named Benzo; his shop was in the heart of the Lanes, only a few streets away from The Last Drop. During your trek through the Undercity, Silco was vigilant about staying close to you, and once grabbed your hand when a group of strangers passed by too closely. He hadn’t let go until you arrived at your destination.

Benzo was just as rough around the edges as Silco’s other compatriots, but warmed up to you quickly. When he lamented about a former employee who recently quit, you offered to ask around at the orphanage to see if anyone would be interested in taking the newly vacated position. The shopkeeper needed the help, and some of the older children at Janna’s Hearth were about to finish their education; they’d be looking for a job as long as it was safe and paid well, of course. Benzo was quick to promise you that any employee of his would be compensated fairly, especially if they were a friend of a friend of Silco’s.

The rain started then, a weak drizzle tickling the shop’s windows. After some quick goodbyes, Silco had grabbed your hand again and rushed you out. You were breathless but laughing at the speed with which he pulled you along, as if he were trying to outrun ravenous flesh-eating mites and not some bad weather. He didn’t stop until reaching your Promenade apartment.

By then the rain was coming down in sheets. It took much less effort this time to convince him to stay the night. After you each had showered separately, Silco had taken up residence on your bed. You curled up in your sleeping bag at first, intending to sleep early.

All things considered, the activities of the day hadn’t been that strenuous. It was the emotional exhaustion that was getting to you, though. The catharsis of telling Silco everything was greater than you anticipated, especially when he didn’t run away, as you feared. You could rest easy knowing that Silco was still your friend.

The only unresolved issue was the interrupted moment at the orphanage. If Vi hadn’t come… had Silco wanted to kiss you? If so, then why? You’re not quite ready to believe his reassurances that you weren’t a bad person, but surely you’re not the only woman in his life right now? He had told you that he’s single, but has he had past lovers? What were they like?

These questions and many more had kept you tossing and turning restlessly, until finally, you had let out a quiet huff out of frustration.

“Is something the matter?” Silco had called out to you.

“Can’t sleep,” you had groaned, getting up to look at him.

Silco seemed to have the same problem. He had been sitting with one knee up, back against the wall. He unfolded himself and patted the bed. You had climbed up and settled next to him, keeping a respectable distance at first, but Silco had automatically scooched closer to you.

Your first instinct was to pull away from him. Were you really deserving of his company? But maybe he would have taken it as an insult.

So for the first time in a long while, you allowed yourself to savor the company of a friend, without any guilt or reservations.

And now, he’s still here, his arm around your shoulder, turning to look at you with a kind smile, the rain-dappled moonlight resting against his cheek like a mother’s hand.

You smile back at him, so overcome by gratitude and affection that tears start welling in your eyes again.

“Are you alright?” he asks. His smile falls from his face, replaced by wide eyes of concern.

“I’m okay,” you whisper, pushing the heel of your palm into your eyes. “I’m just really happy that you’re here.” That’s the most honest way of putting it without lying about your feelings for him.

Silco slowly, gently wipes your tears from your eyes. “Am I meant to believe that these are tears of happiness, then?”

You nod, heart fluttering at his touch. Good thing that the darkness of the night hides your blushing face. Hopefully he can’t feel your cheeks heating up though.

He frowns. “I’m not sure I believe you.”

His gaze is intense. You can’t help but try to lean away from him. He doesn’t let you, though. He pulls you into a hug, resting his chin on top of your head.

“If ever your mind is unquiet, or unkind to you,” he murmurs, “you must tell yourself that you deserve to be treated with the same kindness that you have shown to so many others. You do not need to ask for forgiveness, as you have done no wrong that needs forgiving,” Silco speaks his next words directly into your ear, his warm breath providing the same comfort as his arms. “If you are not ready to speak these facts, then I will do it for you.”

You can’t help but sigh at his words, the cracked parts of your heart slowly but surely fusing together again. Your hands hesitantly reach around his back to reciprocate the hug, a deep inhale filling your lungs with his warm scent. “Thank you.”

“There’s no need to thank me for telling the truth,” he laughs, letting go of you to stroke your cheek. You take one of his hands in yours, squeezing tightly.

“Why are you awake?” you ask, leaning back against the wall. Silco mirrors your posture to resume staring out the window.

“I was enjoying the rain,” he says. He looks far off into the distance but rubs his thumb against the back of your hand.

“You like this kind of weather?”

He nods. “There’s peace in water… it holds you, whispering in low tones to let it in… and every problem in the world will fade away,” he takes a long inhale, as if preparing to dive into water at this very moment. “And yet you cannot allow yourself to sink too deeply, or those same waters keeping you afloat will drag you into its depths. It’s a story of opposites that has always fascinated me.”

You frown at him. “You sound like you’ve almost drowned before or something.”

“Not at all; I merely had a few mishaps in my youth.”

You want to ask him to tell you more, but you’re suddenly overcome by a huge yawn. Silco’s presence has been so soothing that drowsiness has crept up on you, ready to pull you into sleep.

He chuckles and lowers his legs, petting his lap for you to rest your head on.

“It’s been a long day, hasn’t it,” he says softly. “Please don’t stay awake on my account. I’ll be here in the morning.”

Even if you weren’t too tired to crawl back into your sleeping bag, you don’t want to give up Silco’s body heat. You lie your head down on his thigh, ear squishing against his pants. Snuggling as close to him as possible. He pulls a blanket over you, humming a lullaby that eases you into slumber.

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The next morning, you make breakfast. Then Silco accompanies you to the mural, where you manage to get in a full day of painting. He never seems to tire of your company, always smiling at you and trying to get you to laugh. Casually touching you at almost every opportunity that presents itself. You worry that he’s spending too much time away from the Children of Zaun, but he assures you that they’ll be fine without him. Then, as the sun sets, he escorts you home, giving you a goodbye hug before he leaves.

Weeks pass by, each almost identical to the last. Silco is a constant in every one of them, a lighthouse in a peaceful, contented blur of time that teases you with what life could be… if Silco decided to stay with you.

It makes your heart ache. His company is so comforting and reliable during the daytime, it’s hard not to take him for granted. In contrast, your nights feel lonelier than ever without him. You cling to your pillows, but they’re a poor substitute for your friend’s presence.

One day, Silco is clambering over rooftops. Your camera is slung around his shoulders, banging against his chest as he pulls himself up pipes and ladders. He reaches a shorter building with a steel roof rusting turquoise not too far from the mural. He snaps several photos, trying to get the best angle where the sunlight highlights the focal points of the completed mural.

You stand on the roof of the mural, pacing erratically. You’ve never felt this much anxiety upon completing a commission before. Sure, there’s always a bit of nervousness before presenting the artwork to a client, but your pride in a job well done has always carried you through.

You feel none of that confidence now when Silco returns the camera to you. He hands you the photos, and you flip through them frantically.

“This is all wrong,” you mutter. “There’s too much empty space. Maybe it could use more birds? Everybody likes birds, right? Or maybe I should start over? I could—”

Silco cuts through your rambling with a murmur of your name.

“It’s perfect,” he says. He places a hand on your shoulder. “It’s one of the most beautiful things I’ve ever seen.”

“No way!” you exclaim, “I— I still have to—”

The artist in you knows that you’re finished with the mural. You can never achieve perfection when it comes to art, but you’ve reached the finish line nonetheless. Adding anything new or taking something out would ruin the whole thing.

And yet there’s a visceral fear twisting your guts, threatening to quash the very air out of your lungs.

The mural is done. But what about your time with Silco? Will he leave you now that you don’t need him anymore?

But… you do need him. And it has nothing to do with him keeping you company at your worksite.

You need him in your life.

“I don’t—” you’re too choked up to finish your sentence.

Silco says your name again. You close your eyes to better relish the sound of it. If it’s the last time you’ll ever hear him say it—

“We should rejoice,” he says deliberately, as if chewing his words carefully before speaking. “This is quite literally the largest piece that you’ve ever completed, is it not? Then it warrants a celebration just as grand.

“Would you allow me to take you to dinner?”

You open your eyes wide. Staring at him.

The two of you have shared plenty of meals together. But the way he asks the question— with a heavy, significant gravity— makes you wonder…

“Silco…” you say slowly. Your next question could make or break the bond you’ve formed with him. But it would kill you not to know.

Especially if he gives you the answer you’re hoping for.

“Yes?” he asks.

“Are you… asking me out on a date?”

The upwards quirk of his lips blooms into a full smile, his large teeth peeking out at you. Shy eyes watching you between the curtains of his hair.

“Yes. Yes I am.”

Your anxiety scatters in the wind like dandelion seeds. Overwhelmed by the jubilation those four words give you, you run towards him and jump, throwing your arms around his neck and burying your face in his chest. The forgotten photos drop to the ground.

Caught by surprise, he stumbles backwards. He hugs you around your waist, laughing. “May I assume that your answer is ‘yes’?”

“Yes!!” you almost shout. Oops, that might have been too loud. You’re up in his face, after all. “I’d like that very much.”

You lean back to meet his eyes. They’re bright and shining.

Still chuckling, Silco lowers his lips. Brushing them against your forehead. His eyes fall half-lidded. Turquoise irises still visible, deep as the sea.

His nose nudges yours. Breath softly fanning your cheeks.

You bump your cheek against his. Then he dips his head.

His mouth opens hesitantly. When you don’t pull away, he leans in.

Kissing you.

Joy bursts inside you. Launching your heart into the heavens, as if it were rising on a scissor lift of its own.

At first, he holds back. Light, grazing kisses that give way to more eager, deeper ones that force you to open your mouth wider. His thin lips are softer than you imagined, but still manage to encompass you entirely, tasting your upper and bottom lip in turn.

Silco lifts you up and off the ground. His arms squeezing you tighter.

The kisses melt into each other. Passion and gratification building up and breaking all at once. Roiling inside you like the abstract, twisting swirls you painted on the mural.

An eternity later, he finally lowers you onto the ground. Breathing heavily as he opens his eyes again. You break free from his lips, but remain standing on tiptoe. Your stance is unbalanced along with your heart. An elated drumbeat that has your pulse hammering loudly in your ears.

He grins at you. “I’ve wanted to do that for so long.”

“Me too,” you whisper, smiling brightly at him. You plant another kiss at the end of his lips. He happily peppers kisses all over your cheek, forehead, and nose before kissing you on your lips again.

Maybe… just maybe… does Silco want you as much as you want him?

Hopefully, the answer is yes.

Chapter 12

#Arcane #Arcane fanfic #Silco #Silco x Reader #Arcane Silco #Silco Arcane #my writing #The Art in the Heart #TAITH

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barkspawn · 1 year

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The Sound of Silence

Prologue: Albert and Amelia

I'm in the midst of writing a Stardew Valley fanfic. I have the link to the Ao3 on another post and below as well. It's been so long since I've written or RP'd. However, I started playing SDV and a certain man and his frogs got me feelin' creative. I am DYING because I am having so much fun writing this and writing little books to @sheacrowley when it comes to ideas. She's the real MVP.

Please give me all of the constructive criticism your heart desires. Or praise, that feels nice too.

The Sound of Silence is a SebastianxFarmer fic with a sprinkle of the other bachelors bc I feel like they're all a lil flirty when you get their hearts up, so everyone is into the farmer (for the most part).

CW: Domestic Violence, Depression, Anxiety, intrusive thoughts, self-depreciation, minor and major injury, self-harm (maybe), drinking and smoking cigarettes. NOTE: These will be updated as the chapters are written

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Amelia Rowe needed to get out of Joja and her relationship.

After an argument, something clicked and she made her escape to the farm that her grandfather left behind close to 20 years ago. She made fast friends with the town doctor and the local goofball, and she was seemingly tolerated by his broody (unfairly attractive) best friend.

Will she be able to start fresh without her past ruining everything? Will she be able to put it all behind her or will she be unable to keep the dark thoughts under control?

****** The prologue can be skipped - it is all backstory and, while helpful, it will not make or break the story. Ao3 link at end*****

Albert Rowe (affectionately called Pop) renamed the farm Stardop Fields after 50 years because he found one of the strange fruit after making it deep into the mines in his search for ore. Upon tasting it, his mind was engulfed in the thoughts of his late wife, Margie.

Previously, Pop worked in a steel mill off on the east coast by the Chesapeake Bay. He grew tired of his life there, the danger and overworking weighing heavily on his soul and his health. He gathered every penny of his savings and bought a plot of land in the Ferngill Republic, quickly falling in love with the life of farming. Soon after, he pursued the heart of Margie (despite the initial reluctance on her part).

Al was 24 when he moved to Stardew Valley and married Margie after just 6 seasons of living there. They were married for 49 years before Margie suffered a stroke and passed away. He quickly took to art in his spare time, drawing and painting anything that took his interest. He loved to draw self-portraits and ads (whether parodies or realistic) for some of his favorite products. He even won a small bit of gold in a contest for a shaving company. Naturally, he had that portrait framed.

Together, they raised two children, both girls that were raised in a home full of love and hard work. Amelia’s mother, Joy, was the younger of the two, being 31 when Amelia was born. She has one older sister, Helen. Her aunt, Janet, was 4 years older with two children, Jane and Eliza.

She didn’t talk to her aunt or cousins very often. She got closer to Eliza when Aunt Jane passed away during an unfortunate complication during surgery. Given that her uncle was estranged and committed, Amelia’s mother adopted Eliza, 13, at the time of her Mother’s death. Amelia was 10. Jane, already 24, had gone off on her own, living in another state with her fiancé. Unfortunately, all contact had been lost.

Amelia’s father was nothing short of abusive toward both Amelia and Helen, though he seemed to take out most of his anger on Helen. Joy had been married to Dan for 10 years before he cheated on her with an employee. Joy found the text messages in a second cell phone he bought without her knowing. She endured most of his verbal abuse, and the infidelity was a welcome out from the marriage.

Amelia immediately became depressed, her grandfather having passed only 2 years prior. He was her hero, introducing her to art. She would spend a week or so every summer in Pelican Town, learning the basics of farming. Her favorite moments were when Pop spent time teaching her to draw and paint.

Within just two years after leaving Dan, Joy had ran in to an old friend, soon rekindling an old friendship that turned into a marriage. Charles was an incredible man, quickly taking the father role for Eliza, Helen, and Amelia. They loved him as such, though he was very clear that while he loved the two of them like his own children, he could never replace their biological fathers. He didn’t want them to think he was trying to assume that role, which Amelia found more than admirable. After 5 years, Amelia worked with her mother to go through an official adoption process with him. He was a large, burly man, but he definitely was a softie at heart. He most certainly shed happy tears on that day.

While Amelia grew up battling depression and anxiety, she managed to get it under control during college. She went to a private college, studying both biology and theater as her majors, the latter to her mother’s disapproval. She had dreams of Broadway or going on tour with a travelling theater. Her mother was a doctor in an emergency room, growing to be an inspiration as well. Joy taught her many things about advanced first aid in hopes that she would follow in her footsteps. Amelia wasn’t so dense as to think that acting was a definite for her career, so she pursued biology as a backup. She fully intended to go forward into medical school, but she found herself overwhelmed with the workload and dropped the major altogether.

Because of this decision, she ended up working for Joja Mart after college. She searched for years for ways to join the actor's equity union or ways to be on stage at all. She acted in community theater productions, but after college, they seemed campy an, for lack of a better word, amateur. She found herself cringing at the basic rules of the art being broken as well as craving the professional part of the life. Unfortunately, she fell back into a depression, feeling discouraged and losing all motivation to do anything but work, eat, and sleep.

At 24, she met Kristoff. They hit it off immediately and fell into a whirlwind romance. Before she knew it, she was living with him. It was four years later and she was deeply unhappy, finding herself in a consistent state of feeling numb. She had stopped doing any performing at all. Behind closed doors, Kristoff was controlling. If there was an argument or something went wrong, it was always her to blame. Kristoff was one of the biggest managers in Joja corp, and yet she was still only an assistant manager in a small, grody store on the west side of Zuzu. In public, he was a model boyfriend. After all, appearances were everything.

She moved to Zuzu city with big dreams. She wanted to sing; if not in the theater, then in some way, shape, or form. Kristoff would never let this happen, though he once told her that maybe she could sing at an upcoming Joja event; She hadn’t been that excited in years. As it turns out, it was a way for Kristoff to discourage her enough to give her whole life to Joja as he had. There were many arguments in the time after that. The more bold Amelia got in defending herself, the more angry Kristoff got. The yelling and throwing things led quickly to him slapping her or grabbing her by the arms, an attempt to shake sense in to her by force. Even their sex life grew violent. He never forced anything on her, but it was as if she became a toy: nothing but something to get him off... and he was rough, which Amelia didn't mind at first. He seemed to like how it felt to express his anger in this way, the shocked, almost scared look in her eyes the first time his fingers found her throat quickly becoming his favorite thing. If he wasn't choking her as he fucked her, she was on her knees with a fistful of her hair in his hand and tears brimming in her eyes from the treatment he gave her throat. She often was bruised; the main place often being her hips or waist. She knew how this would look to someone on the outside looking in, but she never did say no. She didn't stop him. She kissed him back for the fraction of a second he allowed that affection. She even begged when he asked her to. He was always so stressed and she loved him, so she didn't mind helping him release that tension. Even if she had to finish on her own. She was just being there for him, right?

She had become complacent.

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Let me know if this formatting works please. I've never posted directly to Tumblr.

Ao3 Link:

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multi-fandom-imagine · 2 years

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We don’t talk about Bruno ! || Bruno Madrigal ||Pt3

A/n: Annd here is the last part....man I had fun writing this. Some angst { since I’m following the plot of the movie, also I have some of my own things but this one is gonna have a lot of fluff.

A/n2: Also since I never thought that this was going to be popular, I am writing a Prequel type thing { Bruno and the reader during their childhood, him leaving, along with the reader raising Oscar alone up to Antonio’s gift ceremony.

along with me writing a Post story type thing where an outside catches wind of Oscar’s gift and wanting to bring some evil asshole back kidnaps the child.

Warnings: implied sexual contact.

Taggings: onlystarshere || magnificentnachokitten || jordynanderson9 || sheacrowley || smallishboo || oceanspray5 || staradorned || futuremrsgoode || etoura

If I missed anyone let me know

Past moments Italicized

Part 1 || Part 2

Oh no! Oh no no no. This was not good! How stupid could he be?! This is all his fault?! Why did he have to wake you up?!

“Bruno?”

“No…I am not Bruno….you are just sleeping.” All he had to do was to get out of here and forget this happening.

Letting go of his wrist you couldn’t believe he was still here. You thought he was gone, god it was getting harder for you to breath. You took a deep breath in, It felt like the walls were closing in on you, your world crashing down on you then soon you were crying.

Watching you, Bruno’s hands hesitating above the doorknob. Squeezing his eyes shut, while he was scared he knew that he couldn’t leave you like this. Stepping back, he crossed his fingers taking a deep breath as walked over to you. Kneeling down in front of you the man grasped your hand gently.

“I’m sorry…I…I understand if you hate me.” He knew a lot of people hated him but with you he could understand it.

A sob escaped your lips, shaking your head you quickly slipped off the bed wrapping your arms tightly around him. “I could never hate you Bruno. …never. I’m just so happy that you’re here.” You whispered into the man’s neck.

Tensing for a moment he slowly relaxed his body letting his arms wrap around you. His face burying in your neck. It felt so good being in your arms again, it felt so warm.

“I love you.”

Smiling you placed your hand on his cheek. “Can you stay the night?”

“I…”Bruno wasn’t sure how to answer that, he wanted to stay with you but he was worried someone else would see him, he wasn’t ready for that. But seeing you now, it was silly. He could never say no to you. “I’ll stay” Clutching the edge of his poncho he quickly locked the door. Taking a deep breath in he knocked on the wooden door panel.

Chuckling under your breath you walked over to your husband. Leaning in you placed a kiss to his cheek. “I missed that…is that salt.?”

“……yes.?”

“Hm I should start doing that.” Shaking your head you grasped his hand, weaving your fingers through his own. “I….I don’t want to pressure Bruno but I just want you to know that you’re welcome to come in here anytime you want…..this room isn’t only mine, it’s also yours.” Falling back on the bed you let Bruno rest his head on your chest. You would do anything to make sure he felt safe.

“I will always be here for you Bruno.”

Shifting his body, Bruno was now hovering over you. His green eyes boring into your own as cupped your cheeks. “I love you.” Leaning up you felt his lips on your own. It felt so good to kiss him again though you felt a shiver run up your spine when his hand slipped under your night shirt.

Tonight was going to be perfect.

Bruno did his best to stifle his laughter though it was getting harder and harder with each kiss you were giving him. Turning his head he felt you give his cheeks a kiss. While he may not be ready to see his family yet, he was happy he had the courage to see you. He just felt so happy, like he was finally whole again.

“Ah Mi Cielo...it tickles....p-please.”

Pulling back, you gave him a smile placing your hands on either side of his cheeks. “Just one more.” Leaning down you gave him a gentle kiss then rested your head back down on his chest.

Closing his eyes, Bruno let his fingers run down your bare skin. “I...have to go....I have to make things better....for Mirabel...for Oscar....I..I can’t sit around and do nothing.”

Sitting up you gave him a weak smile, letting your fingers slide across his cheek you nodded. “Of course. I’ll be here for you Bruno.”

Giving you one last kiss, Bruno slipped his clothes back on. He could already feel your warmth leaving his body but he knew this feeling wouldn’t last long. “I’ll be home...I promise.” Knocking on the wooden door frame three times the man slipped out of the room and back into the walls.

Mirabel was going to find Bruno today, she was going to save the magic and most importantly she was going to bring her Tío home.

After he talk with her sister and a long talk with her cousin she squeezed her eyes shut. “Please be right Oscar.” She knew the little mentioned where he’d bring the plate of food. Taking a deep breath, she pulled back the frame spotting the whole in the wall. “Okay, you can do this Mirabel.”

Doing her best to psych herself up she slipped into the hole though he never expected to chase after someone. “God, how are you so nimble.” She knew she should have thought about it better though she was grateful for the man saving her.

Grabbing the edge of her dress, Mirabel followed him close. “Wait! Wait.”

“Why did you take the vision?”

Bruno quickened his pace, the man was already regretting leaving your room. Looking around he quickly knocked on all the wooden panels. “ Knock, knock, knock, knock, knock. Knock on wood. “

“What does it mean?” Mirabel couldn’t understand, she was so confused. “ Is it why you came back or…Tío Bruno?”

Passing another wooden panel, Bruno let his knuckles wrap against it. “ Knock, knock, knock, knock, knock. Knock on wood.” Passing by a table he picked up some salt and sugar. “But…A little salt...Sugar. You were never supposed to see that vision. No one was.”

Stopping in her tracks Mirabel glanced at the wall seeing that the former cracks were already patched. “Wait. Have you been in here patching the cracks?”

Bruno’s eyes went wide as he quickly turned to face the young girl. “Oh, that? No, no, no. I’m too scared to go near those things. All the patching’s done by Hernando.”

“Who is Hernando?”

Tugging his hood over his head Bruno deepened his voice. “ I’m Hernando and I’m scared of nothing! “ Pushing the hood off his head, Bruno let out a nervous laugh. “ It’s actually me... I used to say my real Gift was ‘acting’.” Grabbing his the bucket and spackle knife, changing his voice. “ I’m Jorge. I make the spackle. “

Seeing Mirabel's confused expression, Bruno let his shoulders drop. “Y/n would have laughed.”

“ How long have you been back here? “ Though that is when it hit her. “You never left.”

“Well I left my tower, which was, you know, a lot of stairs and here, eh, kitchen adjacent and Ooh, ooh, plus, free entertainment.” Clicking his tongue he quickly moved to his rats placing little cut outs in front of their heads on each thing he asked her. “So, what do you like? You like sports?Game shows? Telenovelas?“

Sighing he shook his head. “Their love could never be.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Well, because she’s his aunt and she has amnesia so she can’t remember that she’s his aunt.It’s like a very forbidden kind of…“

Shaking her head, Mirabel turned to face him. “No. I don’t understand why you left, but didn’t leave.” Did you know? No you couldn’t have, this only made her feel worse.

“Oh, well, because, huh, the mountains around the Encanto are pretty tall.And, uh, like I said, free food and everything.“

“Oscar.”

Bruno gave his niece a weak smile. “Good kid...nothin like his dad.”

Mirabel knew that wasn’t true, she knew about the little comments the boy would make. “I..I know you see him at night...but you can’t let him think your dead...that’s not fair for either of you.”

“...I..I can’t...right now I can’t but back to your problem, my Gift wasn’t helping the family, but, uh, I love my family, you know? I just don’t know how to… I just don’t know how to… Well, anyway, I think you should go, because, um, I don’t really have a good reason, but, if I did, you’d be like, “I should go, because that’s a good reason.”

“Why was I in your vision?Tío Bruno?I just wanted to make the family proud of me.Just once.But if I should stop, if I’m hurting my family, just tell me.“ She didn’t want to be a screw up, she wanted to help, she needed to help.

“ I can’t tell you……because I don’t know.” Bruno started to get nervous again, it was like he was reliving that day again. “I had this vision the night that you didn’t get your Gift.Abuela worried about the magic.So, she begged me to look into the future.See what it meant.And I saw the magic in danger. Our house breaking.” He then turned to face his niece. “And then, and then, and then, I saw you.But the vision was different. It… it would change.And there was no one answer. No clear fate.Like your future was undecided.But I knew how it was gonna look.”

Turning away, he gripped his hair, he hated this, he hated telling her this. “ I knew what everyone would think because I’m Bruno and everyone always assumes the worst, so.”

“You left to protect Mirabel.”

You did your best to be graceful, hell you never meant to follow the girl but you wanted to make sure she would be okay but you didn’t factor in that you weren’t a child anymore since your head slammed against a wooden beam. “Mierda!”

“Tía.” “Y/n!”

“Owe” Rubbing your head you walked towards them. “We have to help her Bruno...I...I can’t sit by anymore.”

Walking past Mirabel, Bruno cupped your cheeks. “You...you shouldn’t be in here.” he didn’t want you to see this.

“Bruno.” You hated seeing this, you never thought that the man would be living like this. Taking a deep breath you pulled your his hands off your face you let your fingers weave through his. “Well I’m here now and...and while it know it’s hard but we have to help her.” Squeezing your eyes shut you were trying to think of a way to word it carefully. “Which is why you need to have another vision.”

“Oh. No, no. See, I don’t do visions anymore.” He tried to pull away, he wanted to run off though Mirabel slipped by your side.

“But you could.”

“But I won’t.”

“You can’t say the weight of the world is on your shoulders. The end.If our fate’s up to me, me says have another vision.Maybe it’ll show me what to do.“ Mirabel puffed out her chest.

“Look, even if I wanted to, which I don’t, you wrecked my vision cave. Which is a problem, ’cause I need a big open space.“

“You wrecked his room?” You turned to look at your niece, you were confused on that whole situation but you knew that you couldn’t worry about that now.

“It’s a long story...but we’ll find one.”

“You can use my room!” All three of you turned to see your son standing behind you. His hand’s clutching the stuffed animal that Mirabel made him. “Abuelo told me everything.” The child seemed all to pleased with himself, he was always smart for a seven year old, even when the boy had help from the spirits he was still to smart.

“Our family needs help, and you need to get outta here.”Mirabel turned to Bruno giving him a smile.

Walking over to his son, Bruno lifted him so he was carrying the child in his arms. “I’m not going to get out of this am I?”

“No” “No” “Nope!”

“Of course.”

It didn’t take long to get to Oscars room, Bruno was always blown away by how it looked. The beautiful colors, trees, small little huts, while the man felt like he was being watched it didn’t feel threating...he felt safe? Just being here reminded him of Día de los Muertos. Shaking his head he cleared out his throat placing his son down. The little boy rushing off to greet someone he couldn’t see.

Mirabel glanced around her cousin’s room, out of all the rooms she’s been in she always felt safe here. “Um...We might wanna hurry.”

Bruno scoffed waving her off seeming to find a good enough spot. “You can’t hurry the future.” Scratching his cheek he then turned to face the young girl. “What if I show you something worse...If I see something that you don’t like, you’re gonna be all, ‘Bruno makes bad things happen. Oh, he’s creepy and his vision killed my goldfish.”

Stepping closer, you grabbed his hands shaking your head. “Bruno, we don’t think you cause bad things to happen and if people truly believe that then they don’t deserve you.”

Nodding her head, Mirabel stepped closer giving her uncle a smile. “You can do this tío”

Smiling at you you placed a kiss to his cheek. “For the nerves.”

Taking a deep breath he stepped away from you both grabbing some sand. “ I can do this. I can do this, I can do this, I can do this.”

You watched as Bruno make a circle around the three of you, you watched as he lit the four piles on fire and you could feel the wind picking up. Mirabel looked around, she never though it would look like this. Feeling a hand in her own she looked up at you surprised to see you standing right beside her yet your gaze was locked onto Bruno’s. Pulling away, you turned to your niece nudging her towards Bruno’s who’s hands were reaching out for her to take.

His eyes were glowing that familiar green you were so used to seeing, then the sand started to pick up around you three. Closing your eyes, you could hear the voices around you though the moment you opened your eyes you saw the vision starting to form. It was the same thing all those years ago, but something had to change, he had to keep it going.

“It’s just the same thing. I gotta stop! “

“Bruno! you can’t...you have to keep going. Their has to bee something that we missed. Something we’re not seeing.”

“There! Over there!” Mirabel let out a short laugh, their was still hope.

“Butterfly! Follow the butterfly!”

You were doing your best to keep up, everything looked out of order. You could see the candle getting brighter, that Mirabel had to embrace someone though once you saw it was Isabela the vision shattered. “Mirabel, I know...you both have your....er differences but she’s still your sister.”

“But it’s Isabela.!”

Glancing at Bruno, you took a deep breath grasping her hand gently. “You are the one that will bring this family back together. I believe in you.”

Turing away, Mirabel frowned. “It’s not gonna work.She won’t hug me ever, okay? She hates me!”

Swallowing thickly Bruno stepped next to you, his hand was shaking though reaching out he grasped your hand gently.“You see, you’re missing the point. The fate of the family, it’s not up to her. It’s up to you. You’re exactly what this family needs. You just have to see it.”

Closing her eyes, Mirabel nodded her head. She could do this, she had to do this. “Okay..I got this...I’ll. I’ll leave you two alone and Tio, After I save the miracle, I’m bringing you home.”

“God what a day.”Bruno rested his head on your shoulder, the man wanted nothing more than to sleep for the next seven years.

“Your a good man Bruno.”

“I.”

“papá“

Turning to face his son, Bruno barley had a chance to react when his son launched himself into his arms. “Ah...I’m sorry Oscar.”

Shaking his head, Oscar buried his face into his fathers chest. “It’s okay papá....I know you love me and mamá...you’re going to stay now right?”

“I...”swallowing thickly, Bruno smiled as he placed a kiss to his son’s head. “Yea, I’m going to stay.”

“Do you feel that?” Though the moment the words left your lips it seemed like everything started to crumble. You watched as the bright colors started to flicker then quickly turn gray. The buildings started to crumble, panicking you grasped Bruno’s poncho tugging him up. “We have to go...we have to go now!”

“Huh?” Standing up, Bruno still holding onto Oscar once he looked at what was happening. “The candle...okay...yes lets go now.”

Running, you pushed yourself to move faster. It felt like the bridge was growing though you felt a sharp pain as you tumble to the ground. You you felt something pull you up, expecting to see Bruno you looked up to see a familiar man staring at you. “Pedro?” He was giving you a sad smile though soon you felt Bruno’s arms wrap around your waist.

“We gotta go y/n!”

Staring over your shoulder, you gave one last look to your step-mothers husband as his spirit vanished in a cloud of smoke just as you and Bruno leapt from the room and soon you both were jumping out the window with your husband cradling his son against his chest.

“Abuelo saved mamás life!” Slipping out of his fathers arms the little boy looked around. Stepping away from a broken building you and Bruno watched as your child speak to what you assume was another spirit. “bisabuelo said that Mirabel ran off...he said that instead of standing around you should go after him.” Nodding his head Oscar grabbed his parents hands. “I know where she is...let’s go!”

“ She didn’t do this!“

Pulling the reins, you flinched as Bruno nearly slipped off the horse. The man’s foot getting caught in the stirrup. “She didn’t do this! I gave her a vision! It was me!I was, like, “Go!” And she was, like…She only wanted to help. I don’t care what you think of me, but if you’re too stubborn to… ”

Watching Bruno, you got off the horse too. Keeping your son by your side, you weren’t sure you can look at the woman. You haven’t spoken to her since the fight you shared in the dinning room. Though you were surprised when the older woman pulled you in for a tight hug. You could feel her tears against your skin, her voice may have been a whisper though what she said made you break down in her arms.

“I am so sorry Y/n...I not only lost a son that day but I also lost a daughter. I should have never pushed you away. Can you ever forgive a foolish old woman?”

Letting a few tears slide down your cheeks you quickly brushed them away. “Of course.”

Turning to Oscar, Alma held out her arms. The little boy rushing into her arms, he did his best to hold onto her. “You don’t have to cry, Abuelo told me how much you love me, Mama and Papa....” He looked up at his grandmother, his small hands placing them on her cheeks. “He wants you know that he still watches over you at night.”

Hugging the child close, Alma pressed a kiss to his head. She would do a better job at protecting him. She would make sure the towns people respected this child like she should have done in the past. “Mi dulce niño.” Turning to face her son she tugged the man in for a hug.

“Brunito.”

“I feel like I missed something important.”

Sighing you rolled your eyes whistling for your own horse, it didn’t take long for the mare to come running to your side. Bruno seeming to have a dream like smile on his face watching you.

“I love my life.”

“Come on Bruno.”

Getting on the horse you tugged the man up on the saddle, his arms quickly wrapping his around your waist. “What… What’s happening? Where are we going?”

“Ah you’ll see.” Glancing at Mirabel you gave the girl a smile, Oscar sitting Infront of his cousin. “Ready?”

“Oh yea”

Nudging the horse, you were all off back to your home, this was going to be an interesting reunion.

It was nice seeing Bruno finally reunite his sisters though you couldn’t help but tear up seeing the family approach Oscar, all of them interacting with the boy. It finally felt like you were a family again. You could hear your son’s laughter as Luisa tossed the little boy in the air to catch him, you honestly wished you could capture that moment. Feeling a tap on your shoulder, you turned to see it was Bruno.

The man nervously playing with with his fingers though he suddenly cleared out his throat as he held out his hand, music playing in the distance. “Dance with me?”

“I’d love too.”

Grabbing the man’s hand he pulled you close to his chest, giving you a twirl as you and Bruno danced with the others.

You were finally a family again, and nothing can take this away.

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girl-next-door-writes · 3 years

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The Demon Drink

Characters: Crowley x reader

Summary: It’s just another day for the King of Hell until he gets a very interesting phone call.

Word Count: 1501 words

Prompt: “You’ve always got me.” “I don’t know if I should feel amazed or concerned.” “I fucking love you.” “Hang up, and tell me this when you’re sober.”

A/N: This prompt was selected by the brilliant @icecream-and-gadreel, @sheacrowley and @raspberrymama for my 2.5k follower celebration.

Reclining on his throne, Crowley swirled the whiskey in his glass as he absentmindedly listened to the proposal before him. Hell certainly ran more efficiently these days, but it also produced so much paperwork. He felt the beginnings of a headache and glanced over at the assembled demons, each waiting for their chance to petition the King. One thing he hadn’t counted on when he took over, was just how monotonous it would be. Did he really need to be bothered by the petty grievances and inane requests? Surely he should be focusing on the big decisions not… well, whatever this idiot in front of him was waffling on about.

The torches flickered, crackling and hissing slightly as Crowley sighed to himself. Was the throne always this uncomfortable? Perhaps more cushions were needed. Then again, if it was more comfortable there was a chance he would fall asleep listening to the deluge of drudgery paraded in front of him. Not that demons needed to sleep, he was just so damned bored!

The Kinks ‘You Really Got Me’ echoed through the chamber, a hush descending from everyone else. With his eyes widening a little, Crowley scrambled to pull his phone from his pocket, answering it immediately, firstly to stop the song and secondly because he knew full well who was calling. The ringtone had started out as a joke, but the more he spent time with you the more apt it appeared to be.

“YOU PICKED UP!!!! Hey, he picked up!” Your tone is almost deafening, and Crowley frowned as he pulled his phone away from his ear a little, until your voice is at a more palatable volume.

“Of course I picked up, kitten. Now, what are you calling for? Are you okay?” He felt eyes watching curiously, and annoyance washed over him. They were wondering why he cared if you were okay, you were just another hunter after all.

“I’m fine. I was just talking to my new friend here, he’s called Burt, and I said that you were a very busy and important guy and he said you wouldn’t pick up because you’re busy and important and I said you would and you did!” There was a triumphant edge to your tone as well as a slight slur to your words that told Crowley you were pretty far from sober. He frowned as he then wondered who this ‘Burt’ was, and what his intensions were in your clearly inebriated state.

“Yes, I did.” He hummed, a strange feeling pressed to his chest, was that jealousy? Concern? Whatever it was, it was unfamiliar. “Was that all?”

There was a pause before you spoke again, and for a moment he wondered if you had put your phone down without hanging up. “I’m sorry. You’re far too busy to be talking to me.” The speed from which you had gone from ecstatic to mournful was almost enough to give the demon whiplash, and he swallowed thickly, guilt settling in his stomach at making you sound so tearful.

“No, not at all, kitten. I always have time for you.” One of his minions smirked until Crowley glared at him.

“No, you don’t. You are always so busy. I’ve not seen you for months and months.” He could practically hear you pouting, and he chuckled to himself as he got up from his throne, turning his back on the gathered demons.

“I dropped by the bunker a few weeks ago. What has got into you?” He asked softly, although he mentally added that ‘what had got into you’ was probably your body weight in booze.

“I just- you work so hard and you don’t have friends or people you just like to hang out with and it must be lonely and so you work more and then it just becomes…” you trailed off and Crowley heard a soft thud.

“Kitten?” There’s a slight panic in his voice, his chest tight as he considered just zapping himself to you.

“I’m okay. I just slipped is all. This floor is comfy.” You giggled and he wondered where Moose and Squirrel were. How could they let you get into this state alone? He was about to offer to come and get you when you begin talking again. “You’ve always got me.”

He was stunned for a moment, had always assumed this ‘friendship’ was one way, like with the Winchesters. “I don’t know if I should feel amazed or concerned.” His eyes narrowed as he played your words over in his mind, trying to decipher your meaning. He always had you?

“Amazed. You should be amazed because I am amazing and you are amazing and we are amazing.” You declared through the phone and Crowley couldn’t help but smile to himself. He agreed, you were amazing. Turning back to his minions, he silently dismissed them. He had no idea how long this conversation would last, and he wanted to explore this idea of ‘always having you’ a little more, without the audience. The large door closed behind the last of the demons and he realised you were still rambling on happily in his ear. “And I want to borrow one of your ties because they are always so expensive looking and soft and must be really strong because they are always so pretty…”

“Darling.” That one word caused your breath to hitch, and Crowley paused.

“Fuck. That was hot.” You sounded a little breathless and he felt heat climbing up the back of his neck.

“What was hot? What’s going on there?” There was a gruffness to his voice, he didn’t feel happy at the thought of you finding some guy in a bar ‘hot’.

“When you say ‘darling’ like that all low and smooth and just, mmmmmmm.” His eyebrows shot up as understanding hit him. You must be really drunk to be talking like this to him, and he grew increasingly concerned, but also a little curious.

“Darling. I think you need to get home and sleep this off.” He smirked, making a mental note to use that endearment more often.

“But I want to talk to you more.” You whined and he took a deep breath, trying to be responsible for once.

“I know you do, kitten, but I want to know you are safe and tucked up in bed.”

“You could always come and tuck me in.” The flirty edge to your voice certainly wasn’t missed by him, and for the briefest of moments he considered doing just that, but then you were drunk, and he didn’t want you to feel he had taken advantage.

“I could, but then you might not appreciate me doing so in the morning.” Leaning against his throne, he attempted to steal his resolve. He wanted you to be safe, but he also wasn’t sure he could walk away once he got you to safety.

“I fucking love you.” You sighed and the world stopped. He had always assumed you tolerated him, were perhaps even a little fond of him at times, but love? Surely you meant as a ‘friend’ or like an acquaintance? But what if it was as more? He hardly dared to hope, but knew it was pointless investigating further in the current circumstances.

“Hang up, and tell me this when you’re sober.” He smiled slightly to himself, wondering if you would even remember this confession when you woke, probably with a huge hangover.

“Oh, Dean is here. Hi Dean, I’m talking to Crowley. He said he will come and tuck me in to make sure I’m safe. What? No! I don’t want-“ He could hear the phone being taken from you and the soft tenderness of your voice was replaced by a familiar gruffness.

“Crowley? Nobody here needs you to save them, okay? You just go do whatever demony thing you do.” Before he could reply, Dean had hung up and Crowley was left in silence.

At least you were safe. Squirrel wouldn’t let anything bad happen to you. Crowley then began to go over your conversation again, wondering if you were telling Dean that you ‘fucking love’ him right now. Maybe it was a drunk thing. Perhaps it was the alcohol talking and you didn’t feel anything towards him, he had just been the voice at the end of the phone. Sitting down heavily, he ran his hand over his face. Emotions were exhausting. He was the King of Hell, for fucks sake, he didn’t need the complications of ‘feelings’. Downing what remained of his drink, he decided a little wander around his domain was in order. What better way to keep you off his mind than by focusing on work, even if it was boring. The problem was, even as he was telling himself this, he knew he would find an excuse to stop by and see you in the morning, the back of his mind already planning on bringing you breakfast to help you alleviate what was sure to be an epic hangover.

#Crowley #a g-n-d-w fic #something I wrote #Crowley x reader

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cookie-dough-lova · 3 years

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lucifer-in-leather · 6 years

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Tag List

Okay, so here’s the thing...

It’s been a while since I’ve written anything... even longer since I’ve updated my taglist. I’m trying to get back into writing, but looking over my taglist... it’s ancient, a bunch of tags don’t even work, and I don’t know who is still interesting in my stuff.

That being said, I’m doing an entirely new taglist. I will tag everyone who is on the current one, and if you want to stay on, please send me an ask, or reply to this post. I will do my best to add everyone who wants to be added. Please do not feel obligated to be on the new one if you were on the old. No harm done, I love you all still.

I write for Supernatural and Stranger Things (basically just Jim Hopper though)

If you only want to be tagged for certain things, please specify.

Tagging everyone below the cut. Please send an ask or reply to this post if you want to be added to the new list.

Thanks guys! <3

@manawhaat, @castiels-ass-butt-1967, @raspberrymama, @sheacrowley, @holding-on-to-francis, @hoppers-eleven, @hellosupernaturaldoctor, @modified-limited-rampage, @thepoet1975, @alahmorah, @ludwigs-a-monster, @alanlizzingtonshore, @nobodys-baby-now, @jobean12-blog, @milliewinchesterodinson1967, @me-perdi-por-ai, @pokadox, @violetmina, @randommotion, @addie-baby, @spn-dean-sam-cas-spn, @xdoggofluffzx,@a-michellerae-things, @kaydens0701, @buckyscrystalqueen, @xmaspumpkin, @ashtheironbat,@thecrazyundead, @kurt-ko-kaine, @velcr0kitty, @emilyymichelle, @casownsmyass, @iheartskyrim, @sama1314, @loverosetyler, @potatoe69fan, @pepperwoodatnight, @superapplepie, @sdavid09, @like-a-bag-of-potatoes, @everyjourneylove, @girl-next-door-writes, @wayward-gabe, @elevenofmages, @dragongirl420, @itschennysunderworld, @thissiteruinsme, @my-little-wolfe, @viddya, @imagine-hopper, @unstableloaf, @mylittlewingedangel, @flowercrownchildren, @releasethefreaks, @davidkharboursex, @alexielwrites, @lefthologramdeer, @ashphoenix105, @devilishcreature, @flames-bring-a-ton-of-ash, @ackleholic96, @andrastesflamingtitties, @angelwriter3895, @ashtheironbat, @authoressskr, @bkwrm523, @boxer-pup, @carry-on-my-fangirl, @castiels-ass-butt-1967, @castielohcastiel, @castielspahdehrah, @chewychum, @jelly-beans-and-gstrings @crowley-trash, @crowleyshellkitten, @crowleysplaythings, @crowleys-prophet, @crowleysqueen88, @deanscherrypie @deansdirtylittlesecretsblog, @deathtonormalcy56, @devils-rival, @ellienovak, @fangirlforever, @flames-bring-a-ton-of-ash, @gadreelsforbiddenfruit, @heavenslittledevil @holdyourselfinmyhands, @icantfindacoolname, @iidreamlessdreamerii, @ilostmyshoe-79, @its-my-perky-nipples, @kazchester-fanfiction, @kelsh13, @killerofthesouth, @kittenofdoomage, @little-adorable-angels, @littlegreenplasticsoldier, @lucibae-is-dancing-in-hell, @mamapeterson, @manawhaat, @moonlitskinwalker, @mrswhozeewhatsis, @nerdwholikesword, @oriona75, @radaknik, @sdavid09, @skybinx-blog, @snickersforangelica, @snow-leopardfetishist, @snpfangirl94, @supernatural-jackles, @the-mrs-deanwinchester, @the-wayward-unicorn, @thewicked-end, @tonifish, @tssweetsfanfic, @winchester-writes, @randomfandomlucineedssomelovin, @fandomwritingismylife, @magpiegirl80, @cemmia, @emilyymichelle, @iowarose, @kitkat1387, @chelsea-winchester, @roxy-davenport, @i-o-u-a-pie, @ichimaruai, @singingflames, @superwholoki, @bloodmachine, @heaven-bound-angel @sheacrowley, @imaginecrowleyspn, @holybee, @louise-specter, @violetmina, @lucifers-bitch, @codename-petrova, @ididn-tknowwhereelsetogo, @atomicdna, @purgatoan, @misguidedconqueress, @whatthefrickcrowley , @bloodstained-porcelain-doll, @streetlightthisdarknight, @unsink-the-titanic, @hunters-requiem @percywinchester27, @yikesifer, @eileenlikesyou-maybe, @mariairwin666, @nicolesyneah25, @lokisangelblade, @kcam1621, @badkitty2142, @curlyxtomato, @supernatural-squadd, @stone-met, @taissahyde, @shititskatelyn, @kandikid55, @afanofmanystuffs, @gizmospacerocket, @intensemindorgasms, @nothin-after-79, @goldenangelbloodcastiel, @kmaie-of-the-night, @a-r-c-h-a-n-g-e-l, @double-skins, @doro7winchester, @themadandthemaverick, @lenawiinchester, @karlamoriarty, @ofdragonsanddreams16, @mylittlewingedangel, @plaidstiel-wormstache, @summer-binging-spn, @casdeservedbetter, @the-ladydragon, @bcr36, @sexyvixen7, @bulletcrossbowpie, @welltheysayimdifferent, @the-latina-trickster, @kdawson36, @shadypeachrunaway, @notreallydeanwinchester, @catlady25me, @thoughtsoftheantagonist, @little-red-83, @nedrapanda, @passionatewriter07, @caffeine-nights, @unstableloaf, @anomiris, @jensen-jarpad, @27bmm, @luciisthebest, @pancakebunny, @raimie77, @captainemwinchester, @dragon-tail, @phantomas67, @lucifersgirl1215, @badsongwinchester, @nesli26, @professsionalsinner, @lillianorchid, @queenofhellwithcrowley, @crowleys-dungeon, @castiel-barnes, @protectivedestiel, @natalie-wheres-the-tampons, @omg-dean-o, @sugaredtrash, @rockfairy, @blackeyedbiatch, @thewhiterabbit42, @spnfangirlforeversammyrules, @morningstarwasteland, @delicrieux, @arlaina28, @curiousforever24, @roxy-davenport, @the-fastest-mutant-sith, @ushallbehugged, @choiyoungjaeisasunshine, @artemisinwonderland, @thepoet1975, @facebokurlbok, @sophiebobzz, @supernaturalzealand, @sent-by-hael, @jack-of-all-arts, @kmcmpmd, @sarcxstic-stilinski, @ora-la-few, @randomfandomsstuff, @mycuddlycorner, @greieba, @missjanellecaroline, @featheredluci, @jaaxsoadeaanspn, @mariasven, @izawrites, @thisisnowmylife-gdi, @scarletts-future-wife, @flowercrownchildren, @releasethefreaks, @bungeewabbit, @quidigladioferit, @modified-limited-rampage, @loverosetyler

#tag list #lucifer-in-leather-writes

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ohshesjustbeingjordan · 3 years

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@sheacrowley @tannerfoustconfessions-blog @fuckyeahtannerfoust-blog @lilmisskelliee-blog

Ray-Ban Sunglasses

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silcoitus · 10 months

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Swapped (Chp 8)

Previous chapter: Chapter 7

Swapped Masterlist

Rating: Explicit. Minors DNI

Chapter tags: Silco x f!reader, bodyswap, eventual smut, no outline, just vibes, inconsistent bodyswap mechanics, idk wtf i'm doing, silco is lactose intolerant, just pretend there's dairy in zaun, that's a thing right? shhhhh

Chapter word count: 4k

Chapter Beta Readers: @ink-and-dagger

Total word count: 30.7k

Series summary:

By some terrible, cosmic force that is surely enjoying your suffering, you and Silco—the Eye of Zaun—swapped bodies. It's a terrible inconvenience.

Chapter 8—Not Just One on AO3

Read Chapter 9 here!

A/N: Will there be consequences to that one bite? Will they ever get their original bodies back? Will I ever be able to write consistently for this fic? Find out next time on dragonball z Swapped.

Taglist: @averagecrastinator @mazikomo @writingmysanity @insult-2-injury @constant-fragmentation @ariaud @jennrosefx @ins0mniac-whack @steponmesilco @wonderwoman292 @sherwood-forests @leave-me-alone-silco @givemebeansnow @aeryntheofficial @dreamyonahill @lostbunn @eurydicethesage @thepineapplesimp @whatisafandom @redflag666 @violet-19999 @juicboxd @sageandberries-png @you-never-talk @noposwe @delta-is-here @toripandashady @ruthdied @MedievalPersephone @ice-queen-of-music @tasmanianlorikisser @ellhd-imagination @defibrillator7 @cyberillusion-li @scarlettmoon98 @jennithejester @ink-and-dagger @Pinkinthenight3 @pushpop-puppy @dad-dumpster @witheringblooddemon @cuthbertimus @sheacrowley

Join my taglist!

#silcoitus #silcoitus writing #swapped #body swap au #body swap #silco fanfic #silco x you #silco x reader #arcane silco #silco simp

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silcoitus · 1 year

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Swapped (Chp 6)

Previous chapter: Chapter 5

Swapped Masterlist

Rating: Explicit. Minors DNI

Chapter tags: Silco x f!reader, bodyswap, eventual smut, no outline, just vibes, inconsistent bodyswap mechanics, idk wtf i'm doing, panic attack

Chapter word count: 4.1k

Chapter Beta Reader: @ink-and-dagger (if I die from a coughing fit, it's because of Inky's hysterical commentary. Say it's their fault on my tombstone)

Total word count: 21.8k

Chapter 6—Reflexes on AO3

Read Chapter 7 here!

A/N: I've been wanting to include a bit about reader experiencing getting hit in the balls since the start lol

Join my taglist!

#silcoitus #silcoitus writing #swapped #body swap au #body swap #silco fanfic #silco x you #silco x reader #arcane silco #panic attacks #silco simp

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silcoitus · 1 year

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Swapped (Chp 7)

Previous chapter: Chapter 6

Swapped Masterlist

Rating: Explicit. Minors DNI

Chapter tags: Silco x f!reader, bodyswap, eventual smut, no outline, just vibes, inconsistent bodyswap mechanics, idk wtf i'm doing, there was only one shower

Chapter word count: 4.8k

Chapter Beta Readers: @ink-and-dagger @juniper-sunny

Total word count: 26.6k

Series summary:

By some terrible, cosmic force that is surely enjoying your suffering, you and Silco—the Eye of Zaun—swapped bodies. It's a terrible inconvenience.

Chapter 7—A Little Help on AO3

Read Chapter 8 here!

A/N: There was only one shower 👀

Join my taglist!

#silcoitus #silcoitus writing #swapped #body swap au #body swap #silco fanfic #silco x you #silco x reader #arcane silco #silco simp

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silcoitus · 1 year

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Swapped (Chp 5)

Previous chapter: Chapter 4

Swapped Masterlist

Rating: Explicit. Minors DNI

Chapter tags: Silco x f!reader, bodyswap, eventual smut, no outline, just vibes, inconsistent bodyswap mechanics, idk wtf i'm doing, nudity!, female masturbation

Chapter word count: 3.6k

Chapter Beta Reader: @ink-and-dagger

Total word count: 17.6k

Chapter 5—Enlightening on AO3

Read Chapter 6 here!

A/N: What a fun chapter to write hehehe

Join my taglist!

#silcoitus #silcoitus writing #swapped #body swap au #body swap #silco fanfic #silco x you #silco smut #silco x reader

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juniper-sunny · 1 year

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The Art in the Heart - Chapter 10

It’s time to tell Silco the whole truth of your history. Who knows if it might scare him off for good…

Everybody Lives AU | Pre-Act I | Silco x Reader | Female!Reader | Slow Burn | Fluff | Mild Angst || SFW | TW: Mentions of Bullying, Mugging, Offscreen Death | WC: 2.27k

ao3 || Masterlist || Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 3.5 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9

taglist: @sherwood-forests @deny-the-issue @let-the-monster-out @ariaud @joscelyn02 @crunchlite @sheacrowley

───────────────── ●◉◎◈◎◉● ─────────────────

This might be the last time you ever get to enjoy Silco’s company, and yet you’re staring at the ground. But maybe it’s better that way; if you look into his seafoam teal eyes, you’re liable to drown. They contain the same passion and intensity as the ocean itself, a force of nature that is at times beautifully tranquil, but can never be tamed or controlled.

You wonder if you’ve studied his face enough by now to be able to depict him accurately in a painting. The soulfulness of his eyes alone would take hours to capture, not to mention mixing countless different paints to get that precise color that’s not quite a true blue or green, but something in between. The complexity of the color matched only by the hidden depths of the man himself.

Will your memories be enough of a reference? If he refuses to pose for a portrait?

You should meet his eyes when you talk to him. It’s the least he deserves. But your neck won’t obey you and your head won’t turn either.

(You don’t deserve to look at him.)

Well, no use in putting this off any longer. Clearing your throat hurts, but you finally begin.

“Do you remember how I started working for Pilties?” You had told him that morning a long time ago, the day after the burglary.

“You were selling paintings at a Progress Day fair, when you were 17 years old,” Silco recalls. “When you were about to be arrested for vending without a permit, a philanthropic Topside merchant came to your rescue. He was so impressed by your skill he declared himself your patron on the spot.”

Despite yourself, you feel a beaming pride at the memory. “He wanted portraits for him and his entire family. He had a wife and four kids, so it was a literal jackpot. It was a pain in the ass getting them to pose, though.”

The lump in your throat returns with a vengeance, a harsh, choking pain. Along with memories and old wounds resurfacing that you normally try to keep at bay. It’s been a long time since you actively recalled them. The act of confession seems to worsen your agony.

“At that time I was still living here, at Janna’s Hearth. Kharon, Teema, and Cuny were happy for me, but the other kids… weren’t,” you say slowly. “They’d say stuff like I was a Piltie bitch, or that I was turning my back on the Undercity. Some said that my real mom was a prostitute and that my dad was a Topsider, so I should just leave the orphanage and go ‘home’.” That one gets a chuckle out of you.

Silco grimaces. “That’s not funny at all.”

You shrug. “It’s just kids talking shit, you know? But then… it started getting worse.”

Telling Silco about the bullying is easier than you thought. It’s been so long now, you suppose it’s a blessing that there are some memories you’re emotionally detached from at all: your paints getting stolen, paintbrushes destroyed, sketchbooks torn up. Some of your already completed canvases had even been burned, forcing you to request a delay in commission deadlines.

(And you deserved every minute of it.)

It doesn’t seem to be easy listening for Silco, though. For all his experience as a revolutionary, you’d think he’d be made of tougher stuff. His face turns stiff as stone, his grave demeanor betrayed only by the trembling of his clenched fists.

“My friends really pulled through for me,” you continue. “Gita and Kai would take turns watching my stuff when I wasn’t around. Nyle beat some of the bullies up too. They were great… and then they started asking for money.

“I was happy to give it to them at first. But Gita and Kai kept asking for more and more, and they didn’t want to hang out unless I had money for them. That’s when I told them to piss off,” you admit. You hope that Silco won’t ask you to go into more detail; part of your ego never healed from the fact that your “friends” wanted you to pay for the pleasure of their company.

You can’t help the way you sound: spoiled by your good luck. Complaining about having more than enough money to help your friends.

(You really do sound like a Piltie bitch right now.)

“What about Nyle?” Silco asks grimly.

“Oh, she was great,” you say with a watery smile. “Never asked for a single coin. We moved in together. She even insisted on splitting all the bills.

“Then one night… I was walking home,” you hunch in on yourself, resting your chin on your knees. Fisting the cuff of your pants until your knuckles turn white. “I had just gotten paid… and someone was following me. I tried to get away, but they caught up to me. I ended up losing all my money that night.”

Silco’s eyebrows shoot up in shock. “What did they do to you??”

“Oh, nothing,” you cringe at the misunderstanding. (Don’t make Silco pity you for something that never happened. Stop trying to make a martyr of yourself.) “They never touched me. I just threw my money at them to get away. But that was my half of rent for the month.

“Nyle lost her shit at me that night. It turned out that Gita and Kai were sharing the money they got from me with her. That way Nyle could play both sides,” Even after all this time, a bitter part of you is still impressed by your former best friend’s duplicity. Part of the guilt in your chest dissolves into an acidic, burning anger. “Apparently she had been making me pay the entirety of the rent without telling me. I don’t know why she didn’t just ask me when we first moved in, I would’ve been fine with it.

“Anyways… She kicked me out that night. I— I didn’t have anywhere else to go. If Kharon hadn’t found me—“ The tightness in your throat intensifies. Your jaw locks and it hurts to swallow.

That night inflicted scars that never quite healed yet. It hurt to be treated so badly.

(But they needed you. You were a bad friend. And you’re a bad person. Does Silco know what a failure you are?)

“I owe Kharon, Teema, and Cuny everything. I actually live and work here when I’m not on a job. I only stay at the Promenade when I have to meet with Topside clients… apparently people who live in the Undercity for too long smell bad,” you roll your eyes.

“Where are they now? Your ‘friends’,” Silco’s voice is hard and cold.

It’s been a long battle, but you finally give up: your vision swims with tears that start pooling in your eyes. With a wobbling voice, you answer mournfully, “Kai died in the mines. Gita’s missing… no one’s been able to track her down for years. I think Nyle’s a tattoo artist in the Lanes.”

You still need to pull yourself together. If Silco hasn’t figured it out by now, there’s still one more thing you need to spell out for him.

It’s the hardest, but most important thing to say. The heartbreak can come later.

“It was all my fault… If I were a better person… I could’ve saved them. I should have saved them. But I was too greedy… I wanted to keep my friends and my money. And now I have money and no friends,” the mirthless sound that escapes you is more of a cough than a laugh. “Do you still want a spoiled, selfish brat like me in the Children?”

Silco pulls you in for a hug before you finish your question. His arms wrap tight around you as you finally succumb to great, heaving sobs.

It’s not just the shame and remorse from past demons that’s tearing your heart apart right now.

Now that Silco knows everything, he’s going to leave you. And that terrifies you.

You’ll never see him again.

As if he can read your thoughts, Silco starts wiping your tears. Pulling you in closer, forcing you to lower your legs so you’re pressed into his torso.

“You are none of those things,” he says softly. “You did no wrong in those terrible circumstances. Listen to me,” he places his hands on the side of your head. Firmly but gently tilting your head up to look him in the eyes. “You must understand this: the ones who dared call themselves your ‘friends’ betrayed you. All they did was take advantage of your generosity.”

“But—”

“You didn’t fail them,” he cuts you off, correctly anticipating your counterargument. “Their well-being was not your responsibility. Even if it were, that would have been too much for any one individual to handle alone.

“You did nothing wrong,” he repeats.

With his hands still holding your face, you can’t turn away. It’s almost disorienting, the effect his words have on you. Warmth and relief are twin arms around your heart. They’re not quite enough to save you from drowning, but they pull a great deal of weight off your shoulders, making it easier for you to swim to the surface.

One of Silco’s hands wraps around the back of your head. The other holds your chin. Directing your gaze upwards as he presses his forehead against yours.

“I will say it as many times as you need to hear it… You’re perfect,” he whispers.

It’s not enough to pull you out of the waters you’ve been treading for years. But in between your sobs, you take a deep, gasping inhale, filling your lungs and body with a renewed vitality.

Your hands rise to touch him. The action is involuntary, but feels perfectly natural. One of your hands falls on the side of his neck. The other rests on his shoulder.

“You’re cute, too,” Silco’s nose touches yours. You hear the smile in his voice more than you see it. He’s so close to you now.

You sniffle and laugh. “I’m surprised you remembered last night.”

(“And I meant it when I said you were cute. You are cute. Feel free to ask me when I’m sober. I’ll tell you again and again, as many times as you need to hear it.”)

“Don’t you know? I always keep my promises,” he says under his breath.

His lips part. The perfect space to fit yours against him.

All you need to do is lean in closer…

And closer…

And—

“Auntie?” Vi’s voice shatters the moment. The little girl stands in the doorway.

You pull back with a gasp. Breaking free from Silco’s hands.

“Hi sweetie!” You squeak out. Jumping to your feet. Almost stepping on Silco in your haste to run to Vi. Silco’s words and the intimate moment have you wound up, your heart hammering erratically and palms sweating.

He scoots backwards. Eyes following your progress across the room.

You crouch down next to the little girl, determinedly fixing your gaze on her. “What’s up?”

“Is my rabbit here?” The little girl asks.

Silco notices the toy. It’s still next to the bed that Powder was hiding under. He picks it up and hands it to you, looking you in the eyes when he does so.

You take it from him without returning his gaze.

“Here you go, Vi,” you tell her. “Have you finished breakfast yet?”

“No.”

“Tell Kharon I said it’s okay for you to have seconds,” you pat her head. “You have to eat a lot so you grow big and strong!” Hopefully the manic energy in your voice comes off as enthusiastic and not panicky.

After receiving another smooch on her forehead, Vi dashes off.

You’re tempted to run after her. But you can't leave Silco behind. You stand and take a deep breath, turning to face him.

“Thank you,” you whisper.

“Whatever on earth for?” Silco asks, getting to his feet. Stepping closer to you.

It’s hard to find the right words. To describe how much Silco means to you. His friendship, his support, his countless kindnesses…

It means everything. So much more than you can say.

Instead of speaking, you hug him. Standing on tiptoe to wrap your arms around his neck.

He reciprocates immediately. Lean but corded arms wrapping around your waist. Nuzzling his cheek against your hair.

He keeps you warm. Not just with how comforting his arms are around you, but also melting the painful frost that’s trapped your heart for so long.

You don’t know how long you both hold each other in silence. It’s nice enough that you want it to last forever. Two moons orbiting each other, unable and unwilling to break free to rejoin the greater galaxy. You press your face into his chest while he strokes your hair.

Silco’s stomach gurgles. Rumbling the moment like shattering glassware.

You wince when you pull away from him. “I’m so sorry, I forgot you haven’t eaten. Why don’t you go and get some—”

“I’m fine,” Silco insists. He looks as chagrined as you feel. “Besides, we have many more rooms to finish.”

“I can take care of it—”

“Please, allow me to help you,” Silco says. “Then perhaps you’d like to join me for brunch?”

You take a moment to ponder his offer. Even if you weren’t starting to get hungry yourself, good food is always more enjoyable in good company.

And Silco is the best company you could ever hope to ask for.

When you tell Silco yes, he beams at you.

Gods, what a beautiful smile. You hope you’ll get the chance to paint it one day.

Chapter 11

#Arcane #Arcane fanfic #Silco #Silco x Reader #Arcane Silco #Silco Arcane #my writing #The Art in the Heart #TAITH #bullying tw #mugging tw #death tw

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juniper-sunny · 1 year

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The Art in the Heart - Chapter 15

A long-awaited confrontation brings back unwanted reminders of the past...

Everybody Lives AU | Pre-Act 1 | Silco x Reader | Female!Reader | Slow Burn | Smut |Fluff | Mild Angst || SFW | TW: Stalking, Mistreatment of Children, Threats of Violence | WC: 3.19k

ao3 || Masterlist || Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 3.5 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 7.5 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10 | Chapter 11 | Chapter 12 | Chapter 13 | Chapter 14

taglist (open): @sherwood-forests @deny-the-issue @let-the-monster-out @ariaud @joscelyn02 @crunchlite @sheacrowley

───────────────── ●◉◎◈◎◉● ─────────────────

Laying down graffiti in the Undercity is an extreme sport. All the good spots have already been tagged, and if you want to claim the territory for yourself you better be prepared to fight for it if the original artist doesn’t appreciate your intrusion. So then you have to climb or crawl your way to find a free place to paint. If you choose somewhere high up, you better watch your footing; the sorry state of Zaun’s infrastructure means that most ledges and rooftops are worn and crumbling, and you could fall to your death if you’re not careful. Then, if you’ve finally secured a good place, you can’t even dedicate your full attention to whatever you’re working on. After all, your back is exposed and you still have to stand guard over your supplies. Zaunites are nothing if not bold enough to try to steal your property from right under your nose.

Most crews are made up of at least three people, but you’re standing by yourself in a dead-end alleyway, studying an old, red brick wall. Your trusty satchel is stuffed full of spray paint cans and a paint roller. You make an exaggerated show of pulling out your sketchbook and flipping through it dramatically, whipping the pages with a snap. Pondering out loud to yourself which one of your sketches to turn into a piece.

You wouldn’t normally be this obvious.

But you’re being watched.

You’re cornered, and it’s terrifying. A sheep being circled by a wolf.

It takes all your strength to stay rooted in the alleyway. As if being walled in with only one exit wasn’t nerve-wracking enough, the hairs standing up on the back of your neck turn into a stinging, painful prickle, as if your own skin was desperate to escape. You pick up one of your cans with trembling hands, gripping it tight to overcompensate for your shaky grip.

It’s okay. Try to stay calm. You just need to throw down some lines.

Your attempts at deep breathing almost drown out the sound of approaching footsteps. They’re shuffling and hesitant, as if your stalker was as afraid of you as you were of them.

You can’t face them. Not yet.

You have to hold on just a little longer.

After all, you’re not the one who’s walking into a trap.

High-pitched yelling breaks out behind you. It’s much more juvenile sounding than you anticipated, but it sounds just like the children at the orphanage when they’re playing during recess. If their playtime involved ripping each others’ hair out by the fistful.

At last, you turn to see a scowling Silco grabbing a little girl by the scruff of her neck. He mutters at her through gritted teeth, too low for you to hear properly. She’s dragged behind Silco like a suitcase before he deposits her unceremoniously at your feet. Her hands are bound with Silco’s belt, but she kicks her feet out wildly, spitting and hissing like an angry cat.

You frown at him. “You said you’d be careful with them.”

“I never said that,” Silco replies. “I only said that I wouldn’t hurt them, nothing more.”

You hold back a sigh as you kneel down to meet the girl’s eye level. Silco tenses next to you, grinding his teeth. He’s clearly unhappy with you sitting so close to your stalker.

But he doesn’t do anything to stop you from talking to her. Just like he promised.

“Hi there,” you say gently. “What’s your name?”

The kid spits at your feet.

“Hey—!” Silco snaps.

You raise a placating hand at him. It’s always hard to tell with Sumpsnipes, but the girl looks barely older than Vi, not even a teenager yet. She’s covered in dirt, her bony thin frame poking sharply out of raggedy clothes that are too large for her. Her blazing, angry eyes are smudged by dark shadows.

You sit down on the ground, pulling a wrapped sandwich and canteen out of your satchel and setting them on your lap.

“Do you want food?” you ask the girl. She still doesn’t answer you, but her eyes widen and her mouth drops open involuntarily. Turning away from you forcefully.

“I’m going to untie you so you can eat this,” you hold the sandwich up to her. “You can leave after you’re done, but I’d like to talk to you, if that’s okay.”

Her eyes dart to you while she stubbornly remains facing away, but her stomach growls loudly, as if agreeing to your request. After a long beat, she nods just once, stoic and ornery. Reminiscent of when Silco agreed days ago to help you with your plan.

You gingerly unwrap the belt from her wrists, shooting Silco a disapproving look. Did he really have to tie up this little girl so roughly? He shrugs at you.

The sandwich is snatched out of your hands so fast, you don’t realize that you’re not holding onto it anymore until your hand closes on air. Crumbs fly everywhere as the Sumpsnipe chows down ferociously.

“If I had known that your pursuer was a wild Poro I would have brought the proper wrangling equipment,” Silco snorts. The kid bares her teeth at him.

“Slow down, or you’ll choke,” you warn the girl lightly.

She just glares at you, but then starts hacking and coughing; her last swallow must have been too fast. Silco rolls his eyes as you lean forward to pat the girl’s back. You hastily open the canteen and hold it out for her.

“Slow sips,” you instruct her.

For the first time tonight, the girl seems to finally listen to you, taking long but slow gulps from the canteen, a trickle of water spilling over her chin. She sets it down after emptying it, snarfing the last few bites of the sandwich. While licking her fingers clean, she looks at you with large, wary eyes.

You tell the girl your name and hold out your hand to shake. She doesn’t take your hand, but just continues staring at you.

“What’s your name?” you ask again.

“...Leksy,” she grunts out.

“Hi Leksy, it’s nice to meet you,” you smile at her. Although your frustration at the past few months hasn’t dissolved upon finally confronting your stalker, Leksy’s youth goes a long way towards making you less scared of her. She seems just like every other unruly kid you’ve taken care of at the orphanage. “Where are your parents?”

“Work.”

“You shouldn’t be out here by yourself,” you say maternally, in a kind but firm tone. It’s a habit you’ve developed from working with children for years. “Do you have a home?”

Leksy nods again, marginally less surly than before.

“Why don’t we walk you home? You’ll be safer with us,” you offer.

“I can’t,” she says curtly.

“Why not?”

“I’ll get in trouble.”

You glance at Silco, worried. He’s smoking a cigarette, not grimacing anymore, but still at attention and ready to spring into action.

“Is there someone at home hurting you?” you ask quietly.

Leksy shakes her head energetically.

“What’s wrong then?”

The girl looks down, squinting at a loose brick on the ground. “...Nyle said to leave you alone.”

Hearing that name throws you into emotional turmoil. Guilt and anger at your former friend’s treatment of you, happiness to hear that she’s still alive, disgust that you’ve bumped into someone acquainted with her. A lump lodges in your throat, solid and painful. You open your mouth to speak, but find that your tongue has become heavy and dry.

“How do you know Nyle?” Silco asks, looking down at Leksy to appraise her properly.

“She’s my stepmom,” Leksy says.

It’s a lot to take in: Nyle got married and now has a stepdaughter. Major life milestones that you would have happily been a part of, if you were still friends.

“Did she tell you about me?” you ask hesitantly.

“She talks about you all the time,” Leksy says. It seems the food did the trick in getting the little girl to talk freely now. “She said you work for Pilties and make art and stuff for them. You must be rich, right?”

So there it is: the real reason why this little girl has been stalking you. The same thing that tore you and Nyle apart is what brought Leksy into your life. You hold back a snort at the irony.

“You said your parents were at work, right? Don’t they make money?” you counter Leksy’s question with your own.

“Dad’s at the mines, but Nyle can’t work anymore,” the little girl says. “She got hurt.”

“What happened?”

“She fucked up her wrist.”

“Language,” the admonishment slips automatically out of you. It’s hard to keep your face stoic with the ongoing onslaught of feelings roiling inside you. Concern. Worry. Confusion. Vindictiveness. You stand up unsteadily, white-knuckle fists at your sides. Arms straining with how tight you’re clenching.

Silco drops his cigarette. It falls with the cold inevitability of a guillotine blade. He strides forward to tower menacingly over the little girl, uncaring of how she flinches away from him. “So you thought you’d become a cutpurse to make up for your mother’s lost income, hmm?”

The girl looks away defiantly, but doesn’t respond.

“Did Nyle ask you to do this?” it hurts you just to ask the question. Because some stubborn, maybe naive part of you still hangs onto the fragments of your shattered friendship with Nyle, a nostalgia for memories of better times that weren’t entirely built on lies. The belief that one day, you and her might pick up where you left off and become companions again.

“No,” Leksy answers. “She actually grounded me the first time I started following you. Said your money was off-limits ‘cause she didn’t want me to make the same mistake she did.”

A revelation. Is Nyle trying to repent for her actions? But Silco cuts in before you can mull over the girl’s words.

“And yet here you are,” he snarls. “Too greedy to understand that you should have stayed home and kept your hands to yourself.”

“I’m hungry!” shouts Leksy. “I just wanna eat!”

Leksy flinches again when she watches Silco reach slowly for his belt. He picks it up and whips it, not hard enough to snap but loud enough to slap against the ground. A quiet, menacing threat where the danger lies in its implications and not a full show of force. “Run home, little girl. And tell your mother—”

He cuts himself off when you take hold of his wrist, gently but firmly. Reminding him silently of his promise that he’d let you take care of this. Silco tears his gaze away from the girl to lock onto you, his boiling rage slowly cooling down again when he sees the determination on your face.

You kneel down again next to Leksy. Her guard is back up again, and she scoots away as if afraid you might lash out too.

“I get it,” you say softly. “You just want some food, right? Maybe feed your mom and dad too?”

The Sumpsnipe nods slowly. “When Nyle got hurt, her boss let her take a break… but her wrist got worse and then she got fired… I’m sorry, we just need some money…”

You can almost hear Silco straining to hold back his protests when you reach into your satchel to grab a handful of coins. Leksy’s eyes shine as bright as the money when she stares at it. It’s hunger, not greed in the little girl’s face as you observe her twitchiness.

If you’re being honest with yourself, you came to this decision as soon as you laid eyes on Leksy. It was your curiosity more than anything that let this encounter drag on for so long. No one could have anticipated your stalker’s relationship with Nyle.

But it doesn’t change what you need to do.

“You can have this,” you gesture for the kid to hold out her hands before slowly pouring the money into her palms. “If you want, you can go to Janna’s Hearth for food anytime. You can even bring your parents.”

Leksy shoves the money into her pockets after you’ve given her every coin. Silco helps you get to your feet, and you hold out a hand to help the girl stand up as well. For the first time that night, Leksy takes your hand. Hers is dirty and rough, but it doesn’t stop you from clasping the little girl’s hand with both of yours.

“Just… make sure you and your mom eat as much as you want, okay? And your dad too,” you reach out and zip Leksy’s jacket up to her chin. “Do you need us to walk you home?”

The Sumpsnipe shakes her head.

“Thanks,” she mutters, looking at her shoes. When she looks back up at you, she gives you a small smile. It turns into a spiteful glare as she kicks Silco in the shins before running away, yelling over her shoulder, “Your girlfriend deserves better!!”

Silco swears and stumbles backwards, catching himself just before he falls on his ass. You clear your throat to cover up your laughter. When you reach out to touch Silco on his shoulder, you can’t help but smile.

It’s over. You’re free. Your stalker was just a hungry little girl from the Undercity. You’ve helped plenty of them before. Hell, you used to be one too. What a relief that it wasn’t someone or something more dangerous. It’s almost funny that such a small child gave you such a hard time for so many months. A hysterical giggle breaks free from your mouth.

“Are you alright??” Silco asks you, concerned. He grabs you by the shoulders.

You nod, laughing harder. Not out of humor but to expel a nervous energy. Because it’s dawning on you that something less funny might happen in the future.

You might bump into Nyle again at the orphanage. Your former best friend who threw you out of her life like trash. Even if you weren’t the one who ruined everything, why do you still feel the urge to run away?

“My lovely… is something the matter?” Silco cups your cheek. You lean into his hand, taking deep breaths to settle your nerves.

“Silco… thank you,” you sigh out, hugging him tightly. “I couldn’t have done this without you.”

And that’s true. The man in front of you helped you find the courage to put an end to this once and for all. And there’s no way you could have wrangled that little girl yourself, even if he did end up manhandling her a little bit.

“I didn’t do anything,” he demurs. He rests his chin on the top of your head and snorts. “If I had it my way I would have preferred to teach her a lesson.”

“You were too harsh on that little girl, don’t you think?” you frown at him.

“Little girl or otherwise, the only way to defeat your enemies is to stop at nothing to become what they fear,” Silco says, unrepentant.

“Leksy’s not my enemy,” you chuckle.

Silco hesitates for a moment before asking quietly, “...and what about Nyle?”

Such a simple question that you don’t have the answer for. For a long beat, you don’t say anything.

“...I don’t know,” you finally admit after a long pause. “But she’s not my friend anymore, either.”

“Have you forgiven her?”

You bury your face into Silco’s chest, savoring his warmth. Then stare over his shoulder at the pattern of broken bricks in the wall behind him as you ponder.

“…no,” you say slowly, “I’m not sure I ever will… does that make me a bad person?”

“Not at all,” Silco immediately answers. “Even if you hadn’t extended an offer of hospitality to her and her family.” He pulls away to look down at you, a puzzled look on his face. “May I ask why you deigned to help her? Please don’t misunderstand— I don’t mean to criticize you, but only to satisfy my own curiosity.”

“Janna’s Hearth has plenty to spare,” you say softly. “And nobody deserves to go hungry.”

“That’s my girl,” Silco leans forward, planting a kiss on your forehead. “I must admit I don’t know if I could have demonstrated the same generosity if I were in your shoes.”

His term of endearment turns your melancholy into excitement. You boop him on the nose, grinning and eager to ask, “So I’m ‘your girl’ now?”

Silco immediately lets go of you. He cringes, his large teeth biting deep into his lower lip. “My apologies, I didn’t mean to— I just—”

“And why did Leksy call me your ‘girlfriend’?” you tease him. Neither of you have discussed labeling your relationship yet, and there’s something funny about a third party doing it for you. Especially when that third party is a kid.

He’s blushing furiously now. “I… may have let that word slip in the heat of the moment when I was— handling her.”

“What did you say to her?”

“Nothing,” Silco says too quickly. He looks away as he starts to stride out of the alleyway, pulling you along. “We should get going, it’ll be dark soon—”

“Silco,” you pout, digging in your heels. You yank on his wrist to pull him to a stop. “Tell me.”

He looks at you, embarrassed. Turning to look at the wall as if it wanted to join your conversation. With a sigh, he says, “I may have asked her… ‘what the hell are you trying to do to my girlfriend?’”

“I knew it!” you exclaim, triumphant and joyful all at once. Overwhelmed by an affection for Silco that reenergizes you, you grab his hands. The urge to hug him is strong, but it’s important to look him in the eyes for your next question. “Do you want me to be your girlfriend?”

Silco raises his eyebrows in surprise, his eyes widening. Then he grins widely, cheeks almost splitting in delight. “Of course.”

You reach for his shoulders while his hands rest on your waist. “Will you be my boyfriend?”

Your heart hammers and you dig your fingers into his shirt. For some reason, there’s a nervous anticipation bursting out of your chest as you await his response.

He tries pulling you into a hug, but you lean back to watch his face carefully. That roguish smirk of his always indicates that he’s up to no good, and in the present circumstances you can’t help but feel apprehensive, even as he says, “I would have thought the answer to your question would be obvious.”

“Well, maybe I want to hear you say it out loud,” you pout. Even if it’s pretty obvious what he’s going to tell you, you want— no, you need to hear his answer. Because Silco has settled in your heart for so long, but you’re still afraid to take him for granted.

So when he leans in to whisper, all adoration and mischief, you almost tell him that he needs to speak up so you can hear him over your heartbeat thundering in your ears:

“I would love to be your boyfriend.”

Chapter 16

#Arcane #Arcane fanfic #Silco #Silco x Reader #Arcane Silco #Silco Arcane #tw stalking #stalking tw #tw threats #threats tw #my writing #The Art in the Heart #TAITH

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juniper-sunny · 1 year

Text

The Art in the Heart - Chapter 12

Silco takes you Topside for your very first date. Then sees more of you than ever before…

Everybody Lives AU | Pre-Act 1 | Silco x Reader | Female!Reader | Slow Burn | Eventual Smut | Fluff | Mild Angst || SFW | WC: 3.47k

ao3 || Masterlist || Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 3.5 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 7.5 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10 | Chapter 11

taglist (open): @sherwood-forests @deny-the-issue @let-the-monster-out @ariaud @joscelyn02 @crunchlite @sheacrowley

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Tonight’s the big night. And you already screwed it up.

You pace back and forth frantically in front of your wardrobe, chewing on your fingernails.

You shouldn’t have kissed Silco before your first date. You’re going to scare him off with how eager— no, with how desperate you were. Everybody knows you don’t kiss until the third date. Or at least, that was what a little girl at Janna’s Hearth had told you. At the ripe old age of nine years, she had spoken with a confident, matter-of-fact tone that conveyed all the wisdom of her life experience. You had listened to her carefully with wide eyes; at that age, it’s important to show children that adults will respect what they have to say and take them seriously.

Maybe you should have paid closer attention to her.

It’s a ridiculous Topside expectation for you to wear a different dress to every single social gathering, as if it were a war crime to wear the same outfit to different parties. Why did Pilties care so much about something so inconsequential? It shouldn’t be such a big deal as long as the dress is clean. Most Zaunites wouldn’t have the money or patience to buy an excessive amount of formalwear, much less keep it in good condition.

You’re grateful right now, though, looking at six of your dresses laid out on your bed. That’s more than enough to choose from. But it also means more time to waste as you put one on, scrutinize yourself in the mirror, take it off, put it back on again, then start all over with a different one. Which do you look best in? What would Silco like?

You look at your clock. Shit, you’re running out of time. He’ll be here soon, and he’s never late. If you pick something now you’ll have just enough time left to do your hair and makeup.

Just as you’re finishing up, someone knocks on your door.

A few deep breaths help calm your rattling nerves. Also, maybe making him wait a little will help you seem more composed, if only to compensate for your earlier overzealousness.

You open the door slowly. Only to be greeted by a breathtaking sight.

The first thing you notice is that Silco has tied his hair back. His brilliant eyes are on full display, as well as a hesitant smile playing around his lips. The setting sun casts shadows on his face that emphasize the sharpness of his high cheekbones now that they’re no longer obscured.

His lithe form is emphasized all over by his outfit, carved and sharp long lines emphasizing his handsome features. A long, smoke black overcoat reaches just above his knees; its inner lining a deep, rich maroon as revealed by the large collar circling his neck. His svelte waist is encased in a close-fitting double-breasted vest, medium gray with a burgundy tint. The vest's wide collar is a darker black that emphasizes the broadness of his shoulders. His formal vermillion shirt and an eggshell white tie complement the vest. His pants and boots are the same deep obsidian as his coat. The coat and vest have matching golden edges, intricately stitched and shining in the last light of the sunset.

All in all, this is the classiest outfit you’ve ever seen him wear.

It’s so different from his more casual tank tops or long-sleeved shirts, but he’s so handsome that you could definitely get used to this look. His clothing could fool the untrained eye into thinking he's wearing Topside attire, but there are mismatched stitches here and there on the seams of his pants, a sure sign that the clothing was repaired in the Undercity and not Topside. Still, Silco is more handsome than any Piltie gentlemen you've ever seen, despite the exorbitant cost of their expensive tuxedos.

Silco shuffles his feet. He opens his mouth to greet you, but a hitch catches in his voice as he stutters. He tries to cover it up by clearing his throat to say, “Hello.”

“Hi,” you smile shyly at him. “You look very dashing.”

“Thank you. I can only hope to imitate the beauty that you depict in so many of your artworks.”

“Yeah, about that. Do you wanna know a secret?” you grin mischievously at Silco.

“Do tell,” his smile settles into an intrigued smirk.

“It’s all in the collars,” you tease, lightly pulling on his coat. “Everybody knows that bigger is better.”

“I did aspire to outshine the average gentleman in that department,” he smirks. He strands straighter, seemingly even taller than usual with how your eyes are dragged up and down his body. You only just now notice the picnic basket he has hooked over one elbow. “But no one could compare with how beautiful you look tonight.”

You blush. Agonizing over your preparations was worth it just to hear that. The dress you’ve opted for tonight is a light lilac wisp of a thing, off the shoulder with short sleeves. The boned corset of the dress cinches almost skintight around your waist. From there, the dress rests close to your body, the night breeze playing with the hemline ending just above your ankles. Your heeled boots are a slightly darker shade of purple, with a tasteful silver thread filigree in the shape of a large bird, wings open midflight.

“Thanks,” you try to say with a nonchalant tone. But as with every compliment and smile he sends your way, it sends a little thrill through your heart that curls inside you like a cat in a sunbeam.

Silco offers you his free arm. You hook your hand around it, enjoying the feel of the soft coat under your hand. When you rub his sleeve, he pulls his elbow close against his body, as if he could feel your touch through the fabric. He sets a leisurely pace that you match, heading towards Piltover.

Your throat is dry. Oh gods— You’ve held plenty of conversations with Silco before— what do you talk about now? How do you talk? The panic makes your tongue heavy in your mouth—

“I hope it’s alright that we’re headed to Topside,” Silco’s voice cuts through the night. He’s trying to sound casual, but his throat bobs as he swallows apprehensively.

“Of course, Silco,” you squeak out. “I’ll go anywhere with you.” (Shit, are you coming on too hard? You shouldn’t have said that.)

“I’ve made us dinner as well,” if he was nervous before, it finally cracks through as his voice trembles. He swallows again before continuing, “It might not compare to your cooking or Kharon’s—”

“Silco,” you interrupt him, letting go of his elbow to instead reach for his hand. You pull at his wrist, and he hesitantly entwines his fingers with yours. “It’s okay. I'm looking forward to it.”

He seems to be missing his usual confidence and self-assuredness, his eyes darting around as if he might find it discarded on the street. If there’s a chance that he’s as on edge as you are tonight, it actually reassures you a little, funnily enough. Even first-date nerves can't keep you from enjoying the comfortable, warm glow that always envelopes you whenever you’re in your friend's presence.

Your conversation falls into an easy rhythm as the pair of you head towards whatever destination Silco leads you to. The evening crowd trickles into the streets, on their way to their nighttime affairs. When he grips your hand tight, it’s not out of a protective instinct but a soothing one. Whether it’s for you or himself, you’re not sure, but you’re happy to be so close to him either way.

Silco points at the end of a large street, its gray cobblestone giving way to looser, dark gravel.

“We’re almost there,” he says. Most other people seem to be leaving the area, deterred by a bright yellow barricade and a sign declaring in bold, black letters: CLOSED FOR REPAIRS. After surreptitiously glancing around to check that no one is looking, he lifts the barrier high enough for you to duck underneath it. You giggle as you do so, exhilarated.

“Have you ever been here before?” Silco whispers. He glances up at the windows of nearby buildings, looking out for observers. The walkway slants downward into a slope, wild stones smoothing out under your feet.

“I don’t think so? Where are we?” Even if it weren’t getting dark, this area of Piltover is unfamiliar. The sound of waves creeps up on you, and your boots begin to sink slightly into sand.

Silco comes to a halt, turning with a flourish.

“May I present one of Topside’s best kept secrets: Midtown Cove,” he states grandly. With a sweep of his arm, he presents a small, cozy beach. The white sand is smooth, disturbed only by errant footprints. Moonlight casts a soft glow, illuminating a dappled stripe on the water. The faraway horizon is dotted with dark islands and distant boats.

Piltover is a beautiful place, but this beach has a wild allure all on its own, almost divorced entirely from the highly engineered and carved out gold and marble aesthetic of the city. No, the landscape here is untouched and untamed.

In that sense, it’s very much like Silco himself.

“This place is beautiful,” you say happily. It’s a lovely sight, straight out of a postcard or one of your own landscape paintings. You turn to him with a delighted grin on your face. “I love it.”

Silco looks relieved to hear you say that. “It’s probably one of the only places in Topside I like to frequent. Not many Topsiders seem to make their way here, so I had hoped this place would be new to you as well.”

“We got lucky that the beach is under repairs,” you then frown in thought. “How do you fix a beach anyways?”

“I placed the barricade there myself,” Silco laughs. He sets the picnic basket down, pulling out a large blanket. You walk forward to help him spread it, but he shoos you away with a wave of his hand. “Just to ensure our complete privacy.”

“I always knew you were a bad boy,” you tease him. “Insurrection, burglary, breaking and entering, and now trespassing? I’m surprised there aren’t wanted posters of you everywhere.”

“What can I say? I’m a man of many talents,” he laughs. When he gestures for you to take a seat, you do so carefully, stretching your legs out and keeping your knees close together.

“Seriously though… thank you,” you smile. It’s been a long time since someone made so much effort to take you out on such a nice date. The anticipation that was building up all day has now turned into a contented gratitude. You couldn’t have asked for a better companion tonight.

“Don’t thank me yet,” he replies with a grimace. He carefully pulls out plates and a thermos from his basket. “I’m sorry I only made sandwiches— I should have ordered takeout from Jericho’s—”

“Stop that,” you scold him gently. You grab a plate and hold it out. “Thank you so much for dinner, Silco. I can’t wait!”

Silco can’t help but smile when he sees how eager you are. He places a wrapped sandwich on your plate before grabbing one for himself, watching you anxiously as you unwrap it.

When you bite down on it, a symphony of flavors bursts in your mouth. Rich, peppered meats, sweet and juicy tomato slices, and a smooth cheese all complement each other in perfect harmony, with a beautifully crusty bread to top it all off. You hum in appreciation.

“This is so good!” you say around a mouthful of sandwich. You swallow hastily. Crap, that wasn’t very ladylike. Even if Zaunites aren’t as concerned with table manners as Topsiders are, you’re still on a date. (Tonight’s goal is to impress him, not scare him off.) “You made these yourself?? This is restaurant quality!”

With a grin, he bites into his own dinner. “Thank you. I had consulted with Kharon on how to pair the ingredients.”

“Really?” you chuckle. “I’m glad she’s warming up to you.”

“I’m not quite sure about that,” he frowns. “It’s difficult to discern what she’s thinking.”

“But she helped you, right? She wouldn’t have bothered at all if she didn’t like you,” you point out.

“Well, when I mentioned that I intended to court you, she may have… expressed her concerns.”

(Uh-oh.) “What did she do??”

“Nothing.”

“Silco…” your annoyed expression at him is somewhat ruined by the fact that your cheeks are full of sandwich.

“She may have… raised her voice at me. Not with words.”

You swallow and sigh. “Sorry about that. Kharon can get pretty overprotective.”

He shakes his head. “There’s no need to apologize on her behalf. I understand where she’s coming from. The desire to protect someone dear to you is perfectly natural... It’s the same way I feel about you.”

You blush and look away. You busy yourself with finishing off the sandwich and brushing crumbs off of your hands.

Silco holds out a napkin for you to use. When you take it from him, you glance at him sideways. There is nothing but care and affection in his gaze.

Soon after, Silco is done eating as well. He hands you the thermos and you drink from it. When you pass it back to him, you’re seized by the impulse to scoot closer to him. As you do so, he automatically raises an arm to drape it around you, his hand coming to rest gently on your shoulder. You let yourself lean into him, his coat rubbing up against your cheek.

Silco is solid and warm next to you. His fingers skim over your skin, playing with the fabric of your sleeve. The smell of his new cologne lingers in the air, a fresh and woodsy aroma that’s not too heavy but still stands out against the saltwater scent of the sea.

The two of you bask in a quiet moment, watching the waves lap at the shore. The moonlight caresses the water, bright coins bobbing and shifting over the surface.

“You were right,” you murmur quietly. “The water really is peaceful.”

Silco hums in amusement. “That’s not quite what I had in mind… would you like to see?”

You nod, curious about his meaning. When he stands up, you feel the loss of his presence keenly. It’s soon overcome by a growing alarm when he takes off his coat and unhooks his vest.

“What are you doing?!” you squeak out, clapping your hands over your eyes. You can’t help but peek between the gaps in your fingers to watch him unbutton his shirt and pull off his tie. Although you’ve fantasized about his body before, you’re wholly unprepared for him actually stripping in front of you. You clamp your eyes shut when he starts pulling down his pants.

“Come swim with me,” Silco says. You can sense him stepping closer to you, gently taking your wrists to pull you to your feet. Your eyes stay closed, though.

“Why don’t you go ahead? I’ll watch the basket,” you squinch your eyes shut tighter.

He slides his hands up your arms to hold the back of your elbows. The blush on your face travels downwards, your chest heating up like a furnace. Before you can turn away, Silco presses his lips against your forehead, softly and sweetly, whispering your name. When you crack open your eyes, he’s staring deep into you, focused and intense. You couldn’t turn away even if you wanted to.

You swallow and whisper, “Okay.”

Your breath hitches when Silco walks away to stand behind you. He slowly ghosts his fingers over the tops of your shoulders. You shiver, hoping he can’t feel the goosebumps forming everywhere he touches you.

His hands drag across your back until he finds what he’s looking for. The zipper on your dress is pulled down, slowly and deliberately. The dress falls open enough for him to place his palms on your back. Warmth blooms wherever his hands make contact: his thumbs gently stroking either side of your spine, then moving to glide over your ribs.

Your blood burns with agitation. The rough calluses on his fingers graze against your skin as he traces every inch of you, igniting fireworks in your veins.

Finally, his hands reach down to your hips and he pushes the dress off you. It falls to the ground and pools around your feet. You hold onto him for balance when you pull off your boots, leaving you only in a strapless bra and panties.

He walks in front of you to take your hands as you step onto the beach. You shyly drop your gaze to the ground, watching the cool and grainy sand sink as you step with your bare feet.

You’ve never been seen or touched like this before; it's nerve-wracking but exciting. You can feel his eyes unabashedly enjoying the sight of you in just your underwear. But you’re not afraid— except for maybe one thing.

(Is now a good time to tell him? But it might kill the mood—)

Silco starts walking backwards into the water, still pulling you along. As your toes touch the waves, the cold startles you, a deep cut to your bones. You flinch and stop walking.

“Sorry, it’s cold,” you apologize. You draw your foot back, digging your heels into the sand.

Silco’s grip on your hands tightens infinitesimally. A mischievous grin plays around his lips, a bright gleam shining in his eyes—

You realize his intentions too late.

The world turns into a blur. Wind whistles through your hair as you’re swept off your feet. You're weightless, flying through the air then crashing into the water. You shriek instinctively. He must have scooped you up and thrown you so rapidly that you barely saw or felt him move.

Your eyes close instinctively as you sink. The water is a crashing, freezing shock to your system, vision filling with white foam. Silco’s feet kick out as he spreads his arms to keep himself floating.

The cold embraces you, a soft ethereal blanket wrapping around you. Bubbles and roiling waves obscuring your vision. A part of you recognizes the truth of what Silco says: there is peace in water, but not when you’re disoriented and fighting the impulse to breathe.

Silco takes hold of your flailing arms. With a gentle grip on your elbows, he pulls you above the surface, laughing while you gasp for air.

“You’re okay,” he says. “I’ve got you.”

His hands drop to your waist. He pulls you close as you rest your hands on his shoulders, both your legs kicking freely.

You headbutt him, not hard enough to hurt, but enough to show your annoyance as you purse your lips at him.

“Dummy,” you scowl. “I could’ve drowned.”

“I would never let that happen,” he vows. “Besides, when getting accustomed to cold waters, I’ve found the best approach is to dive in without hesitation.”

He rests his forehead against yours. Touching noses with you.

His eyes are half-lidded. Even when you’re blinking water out of your eyes, his gaze bores deep into yours. Your lips part and you exhale softly on him.

(He’s not really talking about the water, is he?)

You push your hair out of your eyes. Glancing down at his lips. Raising one hand to touch his face. As your thumb brushes his lower lip, his mouth falls open slightly.

The world stills around you.

There’s only the water, and Silco.

Waiting for you to dive in.

(Then what are you waiting for?)

You lean closer. Enough to smell the salt of the ocean coming off his skin. Tracing the trail of a single drop of water meandering down his cheekbones and falling off his chin.

Finally, you kiss him.

Silco reciprocates eagerly. Mouth wet from both the water and his fervor. Lips tasting as much of you as possible. His arms tighten around your waist at the same time you wrap yours around his neck.

His kisses push deeper into your mouth, and you open wider to make room for his tongue. You gasp as a hot thrill flares inside you. Not just inside your mouth, but between your legs as well.

He pulls you flush against him. The hardness of his cock rubs up against you, barely separated by the thin layer of your and his underwear. You whine into his mouth.

Silco breaks off to press his forehead into yours. The night is dark, but a fire burns in his eyes.

“Can I take you home?” he whispers, voice low and husky.

Such a small question, made up of only five words. There’s only one answer to give:

“Yes.”

Chapter 13

#Arcane #Arcane fanfic #Silco #Silco x Reader #Arcane Silco #Silco Arcane #my writing #The Art in the Heart #TAITH

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juniper-sunny · 1 year

Text

The Art in the Heart - Chapter 18

Bad weather isn’t the only thing that’s about to ruin your day…

Everybody Lives AU | Pre-Act I | Silco x Reader | Female!Reader | Slow Burn | Smut | Fluff | Mild Angst || SFW | WC: 2.91k

taglist (open): @sherwood-forests@deny-the-issue@let-the-monster-out@ariaud@joscelyn02@crunchlite@sheacrowley

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It’s hard not to take Silco’s first broken promise as an ill omen.

But you have enough to worry about at the moment, organizing Powder’s birthday party at the orphanage. Setting up decorations, wrangling children and their presents, making sure there’s enough cake for everyone, telling the kids not to run outside into the toxic rain, grabbing children off of furniture they shouldn’t be climbing on...

Hours into the party, Powder asks where Silco is. He still hasn’t arrived yet, and it’s tricky figuring out what to tell her. He did promise her, after all, that he would get her a special present. It’s hard not to resent him for putting you in a position to lie to the little girl. Besides, you expected him to show up earlier that morning to help with preparations.

Only Janna knows where he is now.

Luckily, Powder is at that age where she’s easily distracted by shiny new presents. The paintball gun does the trick, as she quickly becomes preoccupied with terrorizing her friends, chasing and pretending to shoot them.

All in all, it was a fun and chaotic day.

It would have been a perfect one if your boyfriend were there.

But when you’re tucking the kids into bed, he’s not there.

And he isn’t there the next two days either. Not that you made any concrete plans with him, but it’s unusual for him to not at least check in on you. Even at his busiest, he’s always found time to stop by either the orphanage or your apartment for a quick kiss and hug, a whispered “I love you”, or a promise to share a future meal together.

In fact, the next time you see him is totally by chance. You’re walking through the Lanes on a weekday afternoon, running errands when you spot him. Sitting at Jericho’s stall in the Lanes.

Silco doesn’t look up during your approach. You tap him on the shoulder and grin at him. “Hey!”

He doesn’t respond at first, too concentrated on his conversation with the cook.

Strange… he’s never ignored you before. “Silco?”

“I’m busy,” he says curtly.

“Oh… sorry,” you say, trying not to sound crestfallen. This less-than-warm reception stings a little. The silence is a little awkward, but you wait until Jericho turns away to serve another customer. “You missed Powder’s birthday party, where were you?”

“Is my absence of any importance to the little girl?” he asks dryly. Barely sparing you a sideways glance.

“Well… yeah,” you frown. “You made a promise to her. Don’t you want to give her your present?”

“It’ll be all the same if you give it to her on my behalf,” he says dismissively, before adding, “please.”

“Silco… She likes you. It would mean a lot to her if—”

He sighs and mutters, “I’ve had enough headaches.”

What’s going on with him? “Maybe we could all just get lunch sometime? It’ll be quick.”

Silco sighs through his nose, rubbing his temples. “Alright.”

“Awesome,” you smile brightly at him before taking a seat. “Is everything okay?”

“I’m busy,” he repeats himself, placing some coins on the counter before standing up. Then he strides off. Not bothering to wait for you.

You sit there, stunned, before running off after him. Like a schoolgirl chasing after an unrequited crush, instead of his girlfriend.

“Silco!” you call out, squeezing past other passerby to catch up to him. When you finally do, he doesn’t slow down or apologize.

Why won’t he look at you? You push down the hurt to say, “Can I help you with— whatever it is you’re busy with?”

He shakes his head. Wow, now he’s not even bothering to answer you?

“Well… I’ll see you later then?” you ask. Trying to sound casual and not concerned.

“Goodbye,” he says in the same apathetic tone.

You grab his elbow. This is the least satisfactory interaction with Silco you’ve ever had so far; you’ve had fights with him that were way more passionate and involved than this. It’s clear that he’s preoccupied with something, but that doesn’t mean you appreciate being shut out.

This doesn’t seem like the time or place to bring that up, though. So for now, you tell him, “Good luck. I love you.”

That actually gets him to look at you. The upward motion of his lip in a fleeting smile does little to reassure you that nothing’s wrong.

But he tells you that he loves you too, before walking away.

________________________________________

Another two days pass by without seeing or hearing from Silco.

Where could he be? Has he been hurt? What was he so busy with??

Well, you’ve been together long enough that it’s probably your turn to take the initiative to find him. After packing some food and medical supplies for Sevika, you set out towards The Last Drop.

The rains have been non-stop this past week. Countless heavy, drumming droplets threaten to crumple your umbrella, and forging your way through deep puddles soaks your socks through your knee-length boots. It’s the anxiety of missing your boyfriend that carries you forward, stubborn and determined to weather the storm.

Just seeing him again will make it worth it.

The pub is open but almost empty when you finally arrive. Silco is nowhere to be seen, but you make a beeline for your usual barstool to talk to Vander.

“Hey there, lass,” the bartender greets you cheerily.

“Hey Vander,” you say as you take a seat. “How are you?”

“Grand. Can I get you a drink?”

“I’m good, thanks. Is Silco around?”

“He stepped out for a bit, but he should be back soon.”

You frown. “In this weather? Where did he go?”

“Not sure. He didn’t say.”

That’s strange. Silco does like the rain, but he still knows better than to risk his skin, literally. The Undercity’s chem-choked atmosphere is actively exacerbated by bad weather, soaking the corrosive gasses in the air and turning them into liquid poisons that are harmful to skin. You'll have to check in on him when he comes back.

“What about Sevika? How’s she holding up?” you ask.

“Not great… She won’t take it easy on her leg,” Vander shakes his head in dismay.

“Have you tried bribing her?” you chuckle. “I got more medicine for her, by the way.”

“She already gets free drinks, what else can I bribe her with?” he laughs. “Need me to take that for you?”

“That’d be great, thanks,” you say as you lift your bag onto the counter to pass to Vander, the front door swings open. Out of the corner of your eye, Silco strides directly towards the back of the house without greeting either of you.

Vander chuckles. “Go ahead, lass. See you later?”

“See you!” you tell him, hastily slipping out of your seat.

Silco hadn’t bothered turning on the lights, but you’re familiar enough with the stairs and rooms that you don’t need them to follow him. The light from the pub leaks into the hallways, just enough to illuminate a trail of wet bootprints leading directly to his bedroom.

You’re almost caught up to him when the door slams in your face. The wood is rough under your knuckles when you rap the door softly and call out, “Silco?”

A beat, then the door is yanked open.

He’s there. Tall and dripping wet, angry eyes flashing in the dark that widen in alarm. He mutters your name as a question before asking, “What are you doing here?”

“I wanted to see you,” you say.

Something’s wrong. He’s not happy to see you, or asking you to come in. Instead, he grinds his teeth, muscle twitching in his jaw. He swivels around, striding back into the depths of the darkness.

Well, you didn’t need him to roll out a red carpet for you but a “hello” would have been nice. You step inside and flick the lights on.

“Are you okay?” you reach out to touch him.

“I’m fine,” he mutters, low and exasperated. Stepping out of your reach.

“Did you go out without an umbrella? Is your—”

“I said I’m fine,” he snatches up a cigarette. Tossing his lighter in annoyance when it fails to ignite. It falls with a loud crack onto his dresser.

“Silco… what’s wrong?” you ask worriedly.

He doesn’t answer right away, but instead asks with his back still turned to you, “Do you mind telling me why you left early that night?”

“Huh?”

“That night when Sevika returned from her reconnaissance, injured,” he clarifies.

“Oh, all that stuff with the mission came up, I figured you’d want to deal with it,” you answer matter-of-factly. It seemed like a thoughtful gesture at the time, to give him space and relieve him of the obligation to host you. “How did the mission go?”

“The mission?” Silco snorts. “If you truly cared, you would have stayed.”

“What—” you cut yourself off, taking a deep breath to rein in your mounting confusion. “Silco, whatever it is you’re mad about—”

He turns to face you, finally, with a stony, indifferent mask of a face. A sudden calm draped over him. The coiled, tight energy of his irritation stilling. His tense shoulders are lowering slowly, and he straightens up to stand at his full height. A predator ready to pounce.

“Is there a chance that your answer has changed?” Silco asks coolly.

“My answer?” you ask, bewildered.

“Will you join the Children, and fight for our cause?”

“Silco…” shouldn’t the answer be obvious? He should know by now that you’re not mercenary material. “No, I’m sorry but I don’t want to join the Children. Thank you for—”

“I should have known.”

“Known what?” Gods, tonight is turning out to be—

“I thought we shared a vision… a dream of freedom, for the whole of the underground… and yet you won’t fight for it.” You take an involuntary step back at the accusatory edge in his tone.

“Hey,” you say angrily, “there are other ways to help the Undercity besides fighting Enforcers. Just because we’re doing different things doesn’t mean I’m not dedicated to Zaun. You do your thing, and I’ll do mine.”

“It’s not enough.”

Those three words are a slap to your face. To have him belittle your efforts and achievements after he’s volunteered so much of his own time at the orphanage??

Who is this man standing in front of you now? He’s… wholly unrecognizable.

“The Undercity needs all the help she can get,” you reach out for him. Your frustration is bubbling, a lump in your throat that makes the words hitch before they leave your mouth. But you’re determined to try a pacifist, logical route first. “We’re still a united front, Silco.”

“I expect better from you than excuses.”

“Screw you—” you spit out, losing your patience.

“I’ve been spending too much of my time dealing with distractions,” he states, unruffled by your outburst. “Sevika’s injury will set us back weeks. I can’t let mishaps like that happen again.”

“Okay, sheesh!” you huff out. It’s about time he brought up something concrete the two of you can address. “That’s fine, Silco, we can—”

“I’m afraid those distractions include you.”

The air in the room seems to freeze. His gaze has you pinned, but being on the receiving end this time is far from enjoyable. Your blood crawls under your skin.

“What are you talking about?” you ask. Guilt, confusion, and defiance all exacerbate the lump in your throat. But your hands curl into fists at your sides, shaking slightly.

“This relationship is interfering with our work,” Silco admits. “Perhaps it was naive of me to believe that our freedom could be won with anything less than complete and utter dedication… free from any diversions.”

That last word cuts deeper than any slur or insult he could’ve thrown your way.

“Okay, fine, just— tell me, what is it you need to do?” Trying to match Silco’s calm takes a monumental effort. Holding off shaky breaths and watery eyes as best as you can.

The coldness with which he regards you now is something you’ve only caught glimpses of in the past, and only once has it ever been pointed in your direction. He looks down his long nose at you. Is his incisive gaze the same one he uses to freeze Enforcers in their tracks before he descends upon them with righteous fury?

“The Topsiders are leaving us further and further behind… the Undercity needs the Children’s undivided attention if we’re to stand a chance of gaining our independence,” he states clinically. Sounding practiced and rehearsed with how easily his words unfold.

As if he was telling you about the weather. And not dangerously close to breaking your heart with the conclusions you’re jumping to.

“Silco, you just need to work on your time management,” you say after a hard swallow, finally gathering your wits and trying to steer the conversation into safer waters. Punctuating your statement with a mirthless laugh. “I can help you with that.”

“You can help by leaving,” he states simply.

“But I…” you swallow hard. The pathetic, whiny response is all you can sputter out now. “I… I don’t want to.”

“What you want doesn’t matter,” Silco says. For the first time tonight, his voice is tinged at the edges with something like… regret? Remorse? And his eyes dart away from you, downwards at your feet before meeting your gaze again.

“Don’t… don’t you love me?” you whisper.

“Yes,” his answer comes without hesitation.

But he doesn’t reach out to you. Or try to take you in his arms, or kiss you, or grin and laugh, or admit he was only trying to prank you.

He just stands there. Arms folded, head dipped towards his chest. Lips thinned but gaze still steady, holding onto you.

“So… you love me… but not enough to let me stay…?”

Silco’s eyes widen just the slightest. Maybe he hadn’t been expecting your question. Or maybe he’s finally realizing the consequences of what he’s telling you to do.

Please, please let this all be a bad dream… Your eyes are shuttering, fighting back the tears that threaten to leak down your face.

But the world doesn’t dissolve. The floor you’re staring at is the worn wooden slats of Silco’s bedroom, not the ceramic tile of your apartment.

“I suppose… I don’t,” he answers.

________________________________________

Swinging doors. A falling chair. Vander’s puzzled face.

All impressions— not sights— that you notice out of the corner of your eye. Observing them as if they were happening outside of you, to someone else. Not you.

Then the rain on your face, your skin, your clothing.

No point in going back for your umbrella. Or satchel.

No point in ever going back to The Last Drop again.

The numbness in your chest must be spreading to your arms. The rain is falling on you. But there’s nothing to feel. Not even when red splotches start appearing on your hands.

Where are you going?

Who cares?

Just don’t stop. Can’t stop. Have to keep going.

Or else it’ll catch up with you.

(“So… you love me… but not enough to let me stay…?”

“I suppose… I don’t.”)

Don’t cry. Don’t show weakness in the Lanes. That’s how they get you.

Keep walking keep walking keep walking

Someone bumps into you. Your momentum carries you forward fast enough that you can’t make out what they shout at you.

You should turn around and apologize.

Who cares?

It doesn’t matter.

They grab your hand. That finally gets you to stop in your tracks.

“Hey!” a childish, familiar voice reaches your ears through the thundering rain. You look down to see Leksy, her bright eyes peeking out under her hoodie. She hugs you tightly with one arm, her umbrella bumping into your chest.

You crouch down to meet her eyes and duck under her umbrella. “Hi Leksy— what are you doing here?”

“Just got off work,” she shouts over the rain. “I have to get home— Mom doesn’t want me to get sick.”

“I’ll walk with you,” you offer instinctively. Never mind that you don’t know where she lives— you just need to keep walking.

(Whatever you do, don’t stop.)

Luckily, when you stand to take Leksy’s umbrella, she doesn’t protest. Instead, she slips her hand into yours and squeezes tightly. A small, warm, bright beacon of comfort in the storm. Giving you directions to her home, jumping over puddles and telling you about her new job.

You should be paying attention to her.

But her words are distant, playing on a faraway radio. Fading out before you can grasp them.

All too soon, Leksy is pointing at a ramshackle wooden hut. Letting go of your hand to run towards the front door.

You should tell her not to run in the rain. She might trip and fall. But right before she can grab the handle, the door swings open.

(“…Nyle said to leave you alone.”

“How do you know Nyle?”

“She’s my stepmom.”)

Nyle. Your former best friend and roommate.

Standing on the threshold of Leksy’s home, weighed down by overflowing garbage bags. Dumping them in the small, barren dirt patch of a front yard. Greeting Leksy with a kiss on the forehead before she looks up. And sees you.

Before you can turn around and leave, Nyle calls out your name. “Long time no see.”

Chapter 19

#Arcane #Arcane fanfic #Silco #Silco x Reader #Arcane Silco #Silco Arcane #my writing #The Art in the Heart #TAITH

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