(@chickenparm and I have been sitting on this one for days! I love this moment so much. If you want to know where this leads, just hop on over to ChickP’s blog and look up the latest chapters of What Lurks Below)
Let me wipe the soot off your cheek while you gaze at me lovingly, pls sir
Also miner!Silco content because I haven’t seen anything on that despite it being a huge part of his backstory. I went through several ideas on what he would wear working, but I vetoed a gas mask and any protective gear because I feel like they didn’t care enough to protect the people working
Silco was surprised when you told him how much you enjoyed his voice.
Until that moment, he didn’t pay much attention to it. He wouldn’t ridicule you for it, though - Silco would rather become more aware of various ways to use it for you.
Silco would lean closer to you while speaking. He’d do it on purpose, making sure to brush the hair away from your ear. He’d love the goosebumps running up your neck in response.
Silco would take a lot of satisfaction in observing the way you reacted to him. He loved the quiet intake of breath you took every time he approached you from behind and put his chin on your shoulder. You’d lean back into his embrace and it would feel like everything was right.
Pressed so closely together, you could feel the way Silco’s words reverberated through his chest, especially if he spoke slowly, deepening his voice.
Silco uses a lot of tones depending on who he speaks to. He is aware that when it comes to successfully manipulating people, a plethora of small details must be taken into account.
He wouldn’t call himself the master of reading people, but a lot of Silco’s business depended on being on good terms with difficult ones. During all those years spent at the very bottom of the Lanes, Silco had a lot of time and opportunity to learn and adjust.
He knows when to be silky smooth and alluring, and when to push and threaten and cut off the other party before they grow too sure of themselves. A lot can be forced onto a person if one knows how to play them.
Silco would refrain from using his tricks on you, though, or at least would be incredibly hesitant. A relationship for him equals boundaries to be set and lines not to be crossed - and he’s especially careful about those because of his line of work. There are certain behaviors he has to uphold in the presence of his subjects, but prefers to leave them behind closed doors in private.
Silco has never been the most talkative in bed, but he’d try his best once you admitted how much you loved to hear him.
He’d take him time. If he teased you, it’d be without malice. He’d love to see you flustered, though, and would choose his words carefully.
Silco would also love to praise you, and would be very vocal about the way you felt against him.
Silco has very few people he genuinely cares about.
That means if someone messes up with any of them, Silco will take care of that incident thoroughly enough to make an example of the poor bastard. Silco threads a fine line between being protective and straight up possessive.
His concern isn’t based on viewing you as weak - Silco is fully aware you can protect yourself, and is proud to see you do it. But when he sees such a situation, ice cold rage rises in his chest, along with the urge to snap the neck of whoever put their hands on you. Silco wouldn’t even hide the body - he’d hang it by the Last Drop’s entrance.
Silco is fully aware how little good he has left in his life - how few people make him feel at peace. Even though he wouldn’t admit to it, Silco is afraid that one day you might be taken away or hurt when he couldn’t do anything to stop it. It keeps him up at night sometimes. To imagine his worst fear coming to life and leaving him hopeless.
Silco hates being hopeless.
But he also respects you and your wishes not to send any bodyguards whenever you leave Silco’s sight. Sure, Silco would call them ‘support’ or 'more firepower’ but not every job you had to handle required such excessive 'means’.
A relationship with Silco is based on respect most of all.
He understands his fears and how they might influence his decisions, but he always makes sure to listen to your opinion too. And even though it would pain him, Silco would respect your choice of going alone on the jobs you chose to. He would be tempted to send someone to keep an eye on you from a safe distance, but wouldn’t do it in the end.
Silco can’t stop the relief washing over him every time you come back in (more or less) one piece, marching into his office with a smile upon seeing him. He would never get tired of that sight.
Silco hates seeing you in pain or injured. He’d sit you down in his chair and clean your wounds, taking care to bandage them thoroughly. There was something calming in knowing that you were fine now and close to him, and he could help you. If your injuries were more severe, Silco would waste no time and rush you to Singed. He may be mostly an alchemist, but he knows the workings of flesh well enough to deal with even the most severe injuries.
Silco frets whenever something happens to you, even if it was too small for you to even think twice about it. He wants to know everything.
It’s partly because he enjoys the sound of your voice and learning more about your life or your recent endeavors. When the business is running smoothly and there’s little to worry about, Silco likes to sit with you in his private rooms and just talk through the evening and the night. Companionship for Silco is about something more than simple desire or lust, or even being the most useful pawn in his hands. And he isn’t the one to talk about the appearances either - Silco is fully aware what his face looks like. He wouldn’t push you to change anything about your appearances if you didn’t want to.
True companionship for Silco means mutual understanding and trust. He knows he’s far from perfect, but he doesn’t hide his past or the present and appreciates you being honest and accepting too.
Silco is more relaxed when he’s just with you, somewhere out of view. He often urges you to sit on his lap when there’s only two of you in his office. He wraps his arms around you loosely, enjoying the warmth of your body pressed into his. He smiled the first time you confessed how much you enjoy putting your head on his shoulder or chest and listening to him talk.
Silco trusts you enough to allow you to inject his eye with Shimmer. Your hands are steady and he isn’t always calm enough to do it right himself, but he has another reason to wait for you specifically, although he doesn’t talk about it openly.
The injection is painful and it takes him a few moments to regain his composure. Whenever you are the one doing it, you always hold his face in your hands afterwards, rubbing his cheeks and kissing his forehead. It doesn’t stop the pain, but makes it easier to endure. Silco puts his guard down for those few seconds when the pain is overwhelming, but hidden in your gentle embrace he feels safe.
The kisses you plant over his brow and down his scarred cheek feel like a blessing when he tries to catch his breath. He is usually back to his senses when you venture down his jawline and neck, but never stops you from going as far as you want to.
Silco is a man of focus, commitment and will to sacrifice a lot in pursuit of his goal. He knows half the people of the Lanes and controls a big chunk of the rest, but doesn’t flinch before sacrificing those he considers pawns in order to fulfill his dream. There are very few people he keeps close and shares even a sliver of trust with.
And then you march into his life and refuse to leave.
What confused Silco the most at first is how you seemed to genuinely not want to use him for your own gain. You were involved in freeing the Lanes from the Piltover’s clasp, and you had a decent skill set that came in handy on a few occasions. You slowly worked your way up, started working closer with Silco… and never stabbed him in the back.
That surprised him. Loyalty is hard-earned in the Lanes and you seemed too good to not be an elaborate trap, and yet there you were, standing by his side and looking like you enjoyed the place. Like you wanted to be there.
With him.
It took Silco a while to realize what he felt looking at you was something more than care over a good investment. That the people he sent with you on missions he chose with special interest. That he always wanted you to bring him the reports, to accompany him to meetings, to keep an eye on Jinx when he had to take care of especially gruesome business alone.
It didn’t take Sevika that long to notice. But Sevika didn’t care what was going on in her boss’s private life as long as you were less of a problem than Jinx. And given how you didn’t bite her even once throughout all the time you worked for Silco, she might even like you more than the kid.
Silco tried to move on, to get rid of the feelings he knew would be his weakness in a world where he could afford to show none. But his mind would constantly linger on you, on your smile, on the way you delivered the newest report, the tone of your voice or the small gestures he noticed you made - and knew he couldn’t live like this.
What Silco didn’t know was your side of things. You did allow yourself some freedom in his presence he wouldn’t take from his other goons, but was something more behind it?
Silco tried to be subtle at first and did his best to make hints and figure out your feelings from the reaction to them, but he quickly fell into over analyzing every single word or look you gave him. It led him nowhere and Silco didn’t like that.
The matter of whatever was between you and him was something Silco was extremely sensitive about. He didn’t need half the Lanes learning about his weak spot and using it against him, so whatever rumors would arise, he made Sevika crush before they caught the wind (or your attention). Sevika didn’t mind. She might even enjoy the show and Silco’s rising frustration.
He broke at some point. It was after yet another one of his ploys he thought were smart and direct enough, but still left you oblivious to his true intentions. He appreciated you thinking you were just his extremely trusted assistant, but there was only so much he could take.
So once Silco made sure to be somewhere private and secure with you, he decided to be as blunt as possible and let you decide whether you were interested in him in the same way, or would prefer things to stay on a purely professional level.
He was ready to be rejected (he could think of many reasons behind that), and respected you enough to accept whatever choice you made.
His heart felt like a hammer in his chest when he waited for your answer. He stood tall and confident, even though the hands he clasped behind his back were ice cold.
The smile Silco allowed himself when you accepted him was one of the very few genuine and happy ones you saw him make. By then you could easily tell them apart.
Description: The world begins to topple. All with the stroke of a pen…
It starts with a letter. It comes in the middle of the day with the rest of the daily documents Sevika sets on his desk. He goes through them one by one. There’s the routine number reports. The scout reports from the surface. Accounts of bribes given throughout the day. An enforcer here. A ship captain there. It all adds up. Then he comes to the end of the pile.
He reaches out, picks it up. The envelope is of a finer quality than anything his men would ever use. A cerulean blue seal glints up at him, flecks of gold in the wax. Wasteful. He nearly sneers at the swirling ‘K’ that embosses the seal. But a knife twists in his gut. He tears it open.
Silco’s back is to the door when you stroll into the office, mug of tea in one hand, plate of food in the other. He’s been cooped up in here all day, and if you hadn’t begged him to come to bed, he would have stayed there all night. You bite back a sigh as you work your way around the desk, quietly setting the plate in the center. You silently move to the window, taking a sip of your tea. You release the sigh and close your eyes.
“Feeling better?” Silco’s voice drifts from behind you.
You raise and eyebrow and shrug your shoulders, muscles coiling beneath your skin. “Keep the wastebin handy,” you murmur as you turn around expecting to see a small smile.
But he’s not looking at you. He’s staring at a letter, edges crumpling beneath the pressure of his fingers as his gaze scans each and every word. You hold the tea mug with both hands, heat nearly scalding your skin. But you pay it no mind.
He looks… worried?
“Sil?” you call, and he keeps reading, one line, then another, and then finally he lifts his eyes and his brow smooths, his eyes widen.
You glance at the letter that’s still in his hands, though they fallen to rest in his lap. He follows your gaze. He clears his throat. Then he folds it up, turns in his chair, opens the center drawer of his desk and sets it inside. He pushes it closed and stands, twisting back to you.
“Is everything alright?” you ask.
He nods. “It’s fine. Just work.”
You glance at the desk as he moves towards you. “Are you sure?” you ask hesitantly.
“It’s nothing,” he says again, turning to lean against the window. He tilts his head as his elbow rests on the window sill and his hip juts against the wall. “Your eyes look brighter,” he says.
You roll them as he uncouthly attempts to change the subject. “Thanks,” you drawl, hiding a small smile. You glance at the desk, question growing on your tongue, readying to release.
“We should go somewhere,” Silco says before you have a chance to ask about the letter again. You shut your mouth, eyes darting up to look at him. He raises an eyebrow, knowing full well that he’s caught your full attention. “You could use some clean air.” He sidles forward, setting a hand on your waist. He looks down as his other hand slide down the curve of your belly, still small but definitely noticeable through your dress. “And you shouldn’t be cooped up in here with me. It’s not good for you. Either of you,” he amends, glancing up at you.
Biting the inside of your cheek, you glance out the window, shadows moving up and down the street beneath the neon signs and blinking lights. “You have somewhere in mind?” you ask.
“I do,” he says with a nod. Leaning forward, he presses a chaste kiss to your cheek. You set your mug of tea on the windowsill. “If you could go anywhere, right now, where would it be?” he asks as he pulls back.
“Anywhere?” you ask a suspicious look on your face. Silco nods quickly. “Somewhere with snow,” you sigh, smiling as he bristles.
“Snow,” he repeats after you, unamused, though there’s glint in his eyes.
“Somewhere so cold your nostrils freeze when you breathe in,” you say, biting the tip of your tongue as Silco shakes his head.
“Well,” he scrunches his nose, “you’d go alone then. You know I hate the cold.”
Stepping forward you loop your arms around his neck, craning back to look up at him as his hands fall naturally to your waist. “It’s because you’re nearly skin and bones,” you inform him.
“Is it?”
“Mhmm,” you purse your lips, stopping up a laugh that threatens to spill as he narrows his eyes, fingers digging into the flesh of your hips. “But I’d keep you warm,” you whisper, lowly, ghosting your lips across his jawline. His hold tightens. “And busy.”
“I’m already busy,” he says.
“Well, where would you want to go then?” you ask, with the most dramatic of pouts.
Silco’s teeth glint as he smiles sharply. Your arms fall as he steps to the side, cocking your head as he takes your hand in his. A knowing look is on his face, sharp and mischievous as though he’s on the trail of an idea he knows will lead somewhere interesting. He pulls you behind him by the hand, leading you around the desk and toward the door, only stopping to let you grab your coat off the hook.
“How about I show you?” he asks. “Right now.”
And with that, you leave his office behind along with that letter all the curiosity that came with it.
~~~
Dear Sir,
While my search in Piltover continues, I am finding it increasingly difficult to excuse my wife’s absence to our friends, loved ones and neighbors. I must implore you to hasten all searches within the undercity. She must be found. As this is our third correspondence in the past month with no reply, I find that I must insist upon a meeting, preferably face to face. I know from our previous encounters how much you deplore being ‘summoned’ and therefore, I firmly request that you find the time within your schedule to at the very minimum update me on any leads you have come into the possession of.
Y/N’s safety and that of our unborn child is my utmost concern. I find myself impatient to see their return to our home and should renegotiations of our business arrangement need to be discussed, I would gladly take part in them if such actions are needed.
However, I feel I must inform you that should my wife’s absence continue, there will come a point where I will be compelled to inform and enlist the assistance of the city’s police force. For both you and I, with our inventive partnership, this could prove… uncomfortable.
Your fingers softly rake through black strands of hair. The room is silent, one word reverberating through it.
No.
You smile at the sound, but it’s a sad expression of acceptance and realization. Things won’t be like they were before; though you can’t tell if that means they’ll be for better or for worse.
“You say that so easily,” you whisper. You tilt your head for a moment before your gaze falls to the top button of his vest. “But even if I don’t leave tomorrow, we both know you’ll leave me again,” you say, voice steady as though you’ve just told him what color the sky is. “Even if it’s not by choice.”
Silco’s face morphs into a deep frown. “We all leave at some point,” he says lowly. You shake your head, brow furrowing.
“Don’t make this a philosophical debate, please,” you tell him, eyes hard as you stare up at him. His teeth bite into his cheek before slowly relaxing, his gaze dropping as he nods. “How many times can you leave and still expect me to stay?” you ask and he looks up at you, head jerking up sharply. “I can’t take it. I can’t—” you pause as a lump swells in your throat. You reach up, brushing your fingers against his cheek. “You’re asking me to stay, when I know that if I do, I’ll only be waiting for the moment you disappear. I don’t want to live counting the seconds I get to have with you.”
He tilts his head, a sharp huff of air escaping his lips. “But are you really satisfied living with only the little time we’ve had together up to now?” he leans forward, slipping an arm around your side. “Because I’m not. I want more.” His grip on your waist tightens as he drags out the word.
A sad laugh leaves you as you smile through clenched teeth. You lean forward, bowing your head before turning to the side. Your cheek rests against his chest. He seems to freeze against you in surprise, though you can’t see his face, before he softens, letting you melt into him. His arms maneuver themselves around to hold you. His heartbeat is faster than usual.
“You’ve never known when to stop wanting more,” you tell him quietly. “One day it’s going to get you hurt.”
“Hmmm…” he hums above you, but says nothing substantial in reply. You stand there together for a moment. A gentle sway sends you back and forth, only an inch or so in either direction. The room is silent as you drown yourself in the sound of his heartbeat and breaths and the scent of his cologne mixing with a tinge of cigar smoke.
“Don’t leave me,” he murmurs finally as your eyes begin to close. “Forgive me – just give me more time.”
You breathe in as you straighten up, leaning back as his hands hold fast, not letting you escape, only allowing you to move back far enough that you can crane your head to peer up at him. And in the first moment you look him in the eye, you want to say yes. An immediate, unabashed – fully committed, ‘yes’. But there’s too many questions, too many what if’s and so you go back to the biggest one of all. One you’ve already asked tonight. The one he hasn’t quite given you an answer for yet.
“What about the baby?”
Silco’s mouth thins as your words leave you. He purses his lips and swallows. He weighs the question silently, and you can’t tell which way the scales are leaning. In your favor? Or against? His head bobs a few moments later. “I want you and everything that is yours.”
Wide eyed and speechless you stand frozen, hands still where they land along his upper arms. Your mouth is dry. And you honestly feel sick to your stomach as a whirlwind of feelings seems to rush through your body from the tips of your toes, up to the top of your head in a blinding storm. You’re not sure you know up from down. You’re happy. You’re scared. You feel everything all at once and it’s staggering as your knees seem to want to give out from beneath you.
“Sil,” you whisper and he nods his head as though he knows just what you’re thinking and feeling – as though he feels it all too. “Don’t lie to me,” you tell him.
“I’m not,” he replies.
He ducks down, bringing his lips to yours. The kiss is almost timid as though he’s forgotten how, as though he’s scared you’ll run screaming if he moves too fast. But his arms still hold you tightly and you lean against him your own arms looping around his neck as you return the kiss. Your bend back as he finds his courage as he ventures to tease you with his tongue, quick breaths here and there wherever you both can steal them. You finger the fabric of his tie where it lays loosely beneath his collar. The silk is smooth between your fingers. The feeling is grounding where the headiness of feeling him, tasting him, is overwhelming.
When your muscles begin to object to the angle at which you’re currently pressed, you rise up on your toes, hands cupping his face. He lets you change the pace, quick kisses passing between you before he moves to the side laving along the edge of your jaw and down the line of your neck. His hands bunch up the loose fabric of your night dress, but he makes no move to pull the garment over your head and leave you bare. So you focus on the buttons of his vest, the buttons of his shirt. His pants. You set to peeling them off one by one. The vest falls first. You part the fabric of his shirt, pressing your palm against the center of his chest. Heated skin meets your finger tips and he pulls back from mouthing at your collarbone, and watches as you push his shirt off his shoulders.
He stands still as your let your hand trail down his stomach, only moving when your fingers graze the top button of his trousers. His hand catches yours, squeezing gently as you glance up at him. He gestures behind you with a jut of his chin. “Lay down,” he murmurs. His eyes are dark, voice low and raspy. And you realize this isn’t going to be quick and simple.
You slip your hand from his and turn to the side, fingers gripping at the skirt of your gown, before pulling it up, up, up. It travels over your head, hair mussed in its wake, before you toss it to the side. You look to your right. He’s paused in undoing his pants, only one button left, in favor of watching you and you shiver as his gaze passes over you. Taking a breath, you look away before shuffling out of your underwear and kicking it across the floor to pile with your dress and his shirt and vest.
Then you climb down into the bed, knees pulled up as he follows after you, just as naked, just as bare. It’s like he’s chasing you. You barely have time to settle, to turn before he’s kissing you again, hands slipping through your hair. A gasp leaves you as he guides you back towards the two pillows behind you. Then he moves downwards, lips pressing to your collarbone, your chest. You want to follow him, pull him back up to you. You sit up on your elbows just as he pushes your legs apart. He glances up at you and a sharp smirk grows on his lips before his face disappears and his tongue is on you.
“Silco,” you gasp out his name groaning as he hums back.
He pulls back for a moment, pressing a kiss to the inside of your thigh. “You make the filthiest sounds,” he tells you with a short laugh.
Before you can retort, he’s on you again, sucking and licking and teasing and taking. It’s an onslaught of sensation as though he can’t get enough of you and in between the blank moments where your brain loses all focus, you’re not sure you have enough to give him. His fingers begin to take part, sliding through your slick folds as you whine higher and louder. Your grip on the bedsheets breaks as you reach down raking your nails through his hair and across his scalp. Heat and pressure and tension. It’s the perfect combination as your pleasure climbs until you know you’re nearing the peak, and you’re ready, needy, wanting.
And then he stops.
“Sil,”you whine out, body trembling as he pushes himself up and away from your core, leaving you empty and wet and positively throbbing for him to return.
You reach out as he climbs back over you, his face above yours. You drag your thumb over his mouth, finding a mix of your own wetness and his saliva still on his lips. It’s evidence. You wipe it away before arching your back and bringing yourself up to lick lightly at the corner of his mouth. He catches you then, pushing you down into the mattress, yet keeping you locked in a long kiss, tongues meeting and mingling. He’s nearly laying atop you now, chest to chest and you can feel how you each rise and fall with much needed breaths. He breaks away, taking your hand in his, turning it over palm side up, and leading you down between the two of you.
“Do you feel that?” he murmurs as your hand finds his length, fingers naturally curling around the girth. He’s hot and heavy in your hand. You feel his pulse in your grasp. “I’m desperate for you,” he says, dipping down, and licking a stripe along your collarbone.
“You’re so hard,” you murmur as you close your eyes and feel. You squeeze your hand gently and enjoy the hoarse groan that leave him, the crown of his head pressing into the pillow beneath you. He tries and fails to keep his hips still, a quick reflexive jerk shaking the bed as you keep hold of him.
Panting, he rises up, settling on his hands and knees as he peers down at you. He looks you over, as though he can see every cell that makes you up. “Because you’re mine now,” he tells you. You hand stills before releasing his cock, letting it fall to rest along the line of your hip. He holds himself on one hand and traces the side of your face with the other. “Yes?” he asks. “You’re mine?”
Your lips part in surprise. Tears burn at the corner of your eyes. You nod your head quickly, reaching up. Your fingers run over his scars as he searches your face for any sign of what you’re thinking or feeling.
With a sigh, you sit up slowly as he rises and sits back on his knees. His brow twitches. You lay a hand on the left side of his chest, running the pad of your thumb across of line of freckles beneath his collarbone.
“Y/N?” he murmurs your name, setting a hand on your thigh.
“I’ve always been yours,” you murmur back, glancing up at him holding your breath as his gaze flits down to your stomach for a moment before he forces it back up. You take a breath. “I was never his,” you whisper and he starts to shake his head, eye closing.
“Y/N—”
“It’s the truth,” you say. He glances at you. You lean forward, sliding your hand over his shoulder and up his neck, fingers carding through the hair that brushes over his nape. “So, if I’m yours, if I’ve always been yours… tell me you love me,” you tell him, leaning forward and pressing your lips to his chin before ducking to the side and doing the same to his jaw. It’s half taunt, half request. But it’s been years since he’s said the words explicitly and you’ve waited long enough. You deserve to hear them. You need to hear them.
But Silco bristles. No words come out. A tiny part of you wonders if he can’t say them because he doesn’t want to, because his feelings for you are only surface deep. But the rest you? It’s patient. You know him. You know what you’re asking for.
“I…” his voice cuts off and he clears his throat as you blink up at him with big eyes, lashes slowly fluttering up and down as you peer up at him. “I love you,” he says finally.
“Mmmm,” you hum as you pull back, nose grazing the tip of his own nose. “For how long?”
“What?”
“How long have you loved me?” you rephrase, with a small shrug.
A shadow seems to pass through the room and a near growl leaves him. He leans forward, pressing his brow to yours. “You think I ever stopped?”
You gasp as he nips at the corner of your mouth, and fall backwards, the weight of him following after you. And you’re right back where you started, staring up at him as he leans over you, his body so close, you barely know where he begins and you end. But you could be closer.
“Then you’re mine too?” you whisper.
Silco’s gaze is steadily baring down on you, and it’s like staring at the sun. Blinding. Then it softens. He bows his head, hair falling over his brow like a dark curtain. “I will always be yours, Y/N.” Warm lips meet yours. “Whether you leave tomorrow,” he tilts his head and kisses you again, “or never.”
A blooming feeling twists in your stomach, a mix of giddiness and need that you’ve not felt in a long time. You spread your legs and bend your knees to hook them round his hips, bed jostling beneath you as he raises and eyebrow. You keep his gaze trained on you, fingers soaking up the heat that’s growing where your skin meets his.
“Then show me,” you tell him. And for someone used to giving orders, he takes this one silently and without question.
It takes a few minutes to build back up to that tension you felt earlier. Tongues and fingers and lips and teeth and skin. You can’t touch enough of him and he can’t feel enough of you as you writhe together until you’re finally clenching around his cock and moaning his name.
He pants in your ear as he shimmies closer, thrusting in as far as he can, striving to feel as much of you as you’ll allow. “Fuck,” he hisses as he bottoms out inside you, teeth grazing the skin of your neck as he breathes in and out through clenched teeth.
“Move,” you beg him, eyes closed, heat rising up your spine, hips grinding against him, begging on their own that he do something. Anything. Your nails claw their way across his shoulders as he acquiesces and pulls back, then forces his way back into you.
It’s a mess of limbs and groans and cries. And where you want him to move faster, he takes his time, and where he wants more of you, you give it all. He takes and he takes and he takes. You’re shaking as his fingers tease you. Muscles quake without permission, stomach tumbling as you arch back, baring yourself for him to press in further and harder and faster.
And when it’s finally over, when he collapses next to you, when you turn to one another with tired eyes and breathless sighs, you’re overcome with this unbearable weight of sadness. It chills your skin and bites its way through your spine.
Silco says nothing as that first tear slides down your cheek, as a gasping little sob leaves your body shaking. He lifts the sheet and scoots over, your legs naturally entwining with his. He props himself up on one elbow and peers down at you. Then he wipes your face, the wetness on his finger tips disappearing as he runs a hand through your hair.
He lets you cry. There’s no questions, no interrogation. He simply strokes you still heated skin with his bare hands. And eventually, the sobs slow. The crying stops. And you’re left with exhaustion. Your body is heavy. He lays down, face next to yours, watching silently. His hand travels down to where yours lays, draped over your stomach, palm pressed to your navel.
That flickering gaze returns, flying between where your hands meet and your face. Unsure. Imperceivable. What’s he thinking? You can’t begin to wonder. Because there’s only one sentence repeating in your brain. It’s been there for days, weeks. Nearly a month, but you’ve never been able to say it aloud. You couldn’t.
I wish…
And without thinking, perhaps because your body is out of any energy to stop yourself, you say it out loud, whimpering as fresh tears begin to stream down the side of your face again.
“I wish it was yours,” you rasp, eyes falling from his face to focus on the hollow his throat. He takes a short breath that catches in his throat. You can’t stand to look at him now, too afraid of what you might see. Can’t bear to witness how his eyes are hardening, how he looks at you with exasperation.
And once again he says nothing. But the bed creaks and you close your eyes as he rises up and you ready yourself for him to climb out of the bed, to leave you alone for the rest of the night. For forever.
A hot breath flows over your temple. Warm lips press to your skin. And solid and sure arms wrap around you, pulling you close and holding you tight.
A/N: 900 follower update! Y'all since mid December almost 400 of you hit my follow button. So I assume most of you are Silco readers. I hope you liked this chapter!
Taglist: Please comment to let me know if you would like to be tagged in future updates!
The doubt is always there now. It’s in every conversation, every glance. Something has to give.
“That topside rat really thinks he doesn’t need us, doesn’t he?” Sevika growls out behind him before taking a draft of her cigar.
Silco looks up from the ledger in his hand, the pink light of the shimmer vats glowing in his eyes. Shutting the book, he tucks it beneath his arm and turns to look at her. There’s that visage of doubt. She’s never been an easy read but even Sevika has her moments.
“Desperation makes the man with the most to lose think he has everything to give,” he murmurs. Sevika rolls her eyes, drops her cigar butt and stamps it out beneath the toe of her boot. “We can wait him out.”
Kicking off the wall, she shrugs her shoulders, the sound of metal grating echoes through the causeway. “You’re the boss,” she breathes, moving past him. She looks up at the stalled production line, the normally busy catwalks standing empty. Silco narrows his eyes. “But another week without work, another day without a steady influx of cash and they’re going to call for an assembly.”
He grits his teeth. He’s never been one to hide his expressions from her. There’s no need. She’s not the enemy. And he lets a pure snarl break through. “You’re going somewhere with this, I take it?”
She doesn’t flinch or look away, simply blinks slowly and raises an eyebrow. “We need to get rid of the problem.” She cranes her head as he turns away, breathes in and rakes a hand through his hair. “Waiting longer will only make it worse. And you knew this was never going to end well.”
He’s silent then. The drip of water in some far crevice of the warehouse is all that can be heard as he stares into the pink lit chamber of one of the containers. A thousand thoughts flood his mind and he weighs them all against another, sorting through choice after choice and all the permeating consequences. And Sevika gives him time. She knows better than to break that focus.
Finally, he turns back to face the room, his gaze sliding up to stare at her steadily.
“I want you to handle the job,” he says. “Cleanly. No tracing it back to us.”
Sevika’s head tilts. “I can do that.”
“And I want eyes on them the entire time.”
“Yes, sir.”
She waits a few seconds for any more orders. But no more leave him as he opens his ledger and begins reading and making notes. Reaching up, she pulls her hood over her hair and turns on her heel, heading for the tunnel out to the streets.
“Sevika?”
She stops two steps later and pivots to face him. His back is turned to her now, his nose buried in that book of numbers and names and shipments and dates. His voice is steady, but it’s softer now. Not a good sign.
“I don’t want her harmed. Do what you have to, but I’ll hold you responsible for that.”
Her teeth grind as she narrows her eyes. “Whatever you say, Boss,” she grumbles out before turning and stalking off. Her metal fingers curl into an iron fist.
Author’s note:
Alright, y'all, who is ready for this final arc?! I promise I am done with these transition chapters and the next one will be a doozy as we finally find out just what Silco has planned for Daiden.
BTW I missed you all and I hope you are well. I have posted the taglist below one last time. If you want to stay on it, pls let me know in the comments, otherwise you will be removed for future chapters as I don’t want to spam anyone. <3
Is This Betrayal readers, how we doing? It has been awhile. Will be working on this story this summer. Lemme know if you still want to be tagged in updates. Otherwise I am going to delete the tag list and start from scratch. ❤️
Three months. That’s how long it’s been since he was last forced to sit across from the one surfacer he can’t get rid of. There’s too many strings attached.
Daiden scowls across the table as if the feeling is mutual. “You didn’t respond to my letters,” he says lowly as he chews a piece of steak before reaching down taking his napkin in hand and wiping his mouth. Silco raises an eyebrow but says nothing. “I was beginning to think you had disappeared just the same as Y/N.”
“I had other matters to attend to. Ones that didn’t involve you.”
“And now they do?”
Silco tilts his head and smile sharply before reaching into the inner pocket of his coat. He brings out an envelope and tosses it onto the tabletop. “I need to increase the next shipment’s volume. Since you so kindly cancelled the last two.” He crosses his arms.
“I had to get your attention somehow.”
“You have it now,” Silco replies dryly.
Daiden glances at the parcel but makes no move to take it. “Couldn’t send one of your little errand boys?”
“I imagine you’ve been quite irate at my sudden silence,” Silco shrugs. “It was time we had a chat, a reminder of exactly who we’re both working with.”
“The last chat we had, you promised to find my wife,” Daiden seethes, the cool façade breaking as he leans forward. “I had to tell everyone she’s visiting her family.”
“Your marital problems aren’t mine to fix.”
“Maybe not,” Daiden spits, “but I know I’m the only man in Piltover that can get your goods through the port and with that new contraption – the Hexgate they’re building? I’m standing between you and what could potentially be a very lucrative business. Shipments across the continents in a matter of hours? You need me.”
“No one understands better than I do how deals change, but you’re making a lot of assumptions about how far I’m willing to accommodate you…” Silco breathes, “and your questionablejudgement.”
The feet of Daiden’s chair squeak against the hardwood floor as he stands, and leans over the table, hands molded into fists against its surface. “No shipments, no meetings, nothing until I have my wife back. Find her. Or I’ll go to the enforcers and see if they can and while I’m there, I’ll mention the role the up-and-coming industrialist is playing in the rampant smuggling coming from Piltover’s port.”
Silco stares up at him unblinking, mouth a thin line. His teeth are on edge and he’s weighing the pros and cons of throwing out his own threats and poking holes in Daiden’s. The fool can’t report him without implicating himself. But there’s a wild glint in the man’s eye that keeps him seated. With a sound of disgust, Daiden turns, pulls his coat off the back of his chair and stalks off away from their table.
“Mr. Kaya,” Silco calls softly. Daiden stops. He’s still for a moment then another before he turns. “Think carefully before your next move. Wouldn’t want you to make a mistake you’ll come to regret.”
A sneer slides over Daiden’s face before he shakes his head and turns, walking away. The sound of his footsteps fade and Silco runs a hand through his hair with a ragged breath. Reaching forward, he takes the envelope in one hand and his glass in the other. He slips the paper into his pocket, taking a quick sip, wincing at the sting that laces his tongue. Without a word he sets the glass down and stands, pulling his coat over his shoulders before taking the first step towards the door with a dark glare and a heavy sigh.
It is a silent journey from the lanes to the surface. You’ve left the lifts behind and find yourself walking down a myriad of twists and turns, no true idea where you are. Unlike the lanes, which are alive and bustling right now, the surface streets are silent and still. You’ve been walking for fifteen minutes, and not once have you seen another soul. And the night sky doesn’t help matters. It’s dark and a chilled breeze follows you. Your stomach clenches. You grip the hand in yours tighter, sidling up against the man next to you.
“Where are we going?”
He glances over at you. “It’s a surprise.”
“Silco.”
A soft, questioning, sleepy mumble rises up from beneath the layers of sheets and the duvet. “Mmmm?” You look down over the bed, taking in the form hidden from sight. The slightest movement shifts under the blankets, and warm hands slide over your skin. Lips press against the center of your chest before drifting up to graze your collarbone.
You blink up at the sunlight, bright and sharp glints through the rafters. Your head falls back onto the pillow. You sigh. “How long are we going to stay here?”
Candlelight fills your eyes. “It’s…” your voice dies as you glance over your shoulder. He’s in the doorway, leaning against the frame.
“It’s yours,” he says stepping forward, a soft kick of his heel closes the door behind him.
You frown. “Mine?”
A soft sigh blows over your skin. The bed shifts. The blankets are raised and a pair of mismatched eyes rise and blink down at you.
“However long we want to,” Silco breathes softly. He reaches over, softly raking his fingers through your hair as his gaze drifts. “Sunlight is your color,” he tells you.
“You hate the sun. You’ve always been more a fan of shadows and darkness,” you murmur back. “And red.”
“For myself,” Silco says with a nod. “It’s whereIbelong.” Then his mouth curls into a smile. “But up here…” he glances over his shoulder, blue sky flashing through the window before he turns back, blocking your view. “Where the light meets your skin – it’s stunning.” He bends down, pressing his lips to your temple.
“Is that why we’re here?” you whisper as he pulls away. You open your eyes and find him staring down at you, face impassive. That golden eye of his sends a shiver down your spine as he falls still above you. “Last night…” you swallow, before turning your head, looking out at the room.
It’s simple and so unlike Silco’s room at the Drop. The floors are sturdy, no rotting boards. The paint is solid, unpeeling.
“You bought me an apartment,” you say slowly as Silco walks through the room, eyes scanning. He stops next to the foot of the bed in the corner of the room, his attention focused on the window. Light linen drapes are slowly pulled back as he peers down at the street.
The room is silent for three moments too long before he finally responds. “Yes.”
“Why?”
He turns away from the window, fingers letting the drapes fall back into place. “Because I wanted to,” he says with a shrug.
Your head tilts as you level him with your gaze. “You don’t want me with you.”
“That is the opposite of what I want,” he says back. But his voice is low. His gaze is hard, the light of the lamp by the door glinting in his eyes. He steps across the room until he’s in front of you.
“Then why –?”
His hand cups the back of your head gently, guiding you to look up at him. “It’s just a gift, Y/N. If you don’t like it, I’ll sell it off at a profit.”
“That’s not…” you let out a sigh. You look down focusing on the buttons of his vest. Then slowly you bring your gaze up to meet his. “I’m just trying to figure out where you see yourself in this.”
“Y/N, I—”
“Y/N?”
Mouth gone dry, you turn your head. Silco’s sat up completely, brow furrowed. Raking your hands through your hair, you sit up, pulling the sheets over your chest as your legs pull up, arms wrapping around your knees.
“Last night, when you brought me up here to the surface, I-I thought you were going to leave me.”
He frowns. “I—”
You cut your eyes at him. “And then you brought me here.”
“You’ve barely left the Drop since you came to the undercity,” Silco explains. “I thought this would be good for you, for us.” He leans forward, left hand slipping behind you until his palm is pressed flat against your back. “A place for us, where the air is clean and the building is quiet.” He tilts his head as you blink. “I didn’t get to show you last night, but we’ve been here before.”
You scan the room again, clothes scattered across the floor and the table for two on the far end of the room. “I’m… pretty certain I’d remember if we’d been here before, Sil.”
“Mmm,” he hums as he climbs onto his knees, crawling across the bed, moving towards the edge. He glances your way as he prepares to climb out. Then he leans forward. A quick kiss sends your heart into a hammering beat as he climbs over you before sliding out of bed. You look up as he nips your cheek. “Get dressed and come with me.”
~~~~~~~~~~~
Ahead of you, a towering and shining city stands high, graced with blue skies and accented in gold and white. Clean air that’s never known the decay and rot of chemical runoff and fear. Far below your feet, a buried city chokes on its own death vapors. With one hand clutching the freshly shined metal of the rooftop railing, you peer down at the bridge below.
“Remember now?” a voice croons in your ear.
A breathless laugh leaves you as arms wrap around your middle, the palm of his hand warm against your stomach. You turn your head to the side until you can barely make out the shadow of his face next to yours.
“I thought about it. About coming here,” you tell him. “After you disappeared.”
Silco hums in your ear. “I came back a few times over the years.”
Your eyes widen and you find yourself twisting in his hold. “You did?” you ask and a thousand contemplations of what if flash through your mind. What if you had come here too?
“You wouldn’t have found me,” he says, interrupting your thoughts. His fingers slip beneath your chin. You look up at him, the bright sun shining from behind his head, wreathing him in light. “I wouldn’t have let you.”
Your head falls forward until your brow is pressed into his shoulder. “Why did you bring me here?” you whisper. “Really?”
Fingertips play along your spine as Silco breathes out a sigh. “Daiden wrote me.”
You sit up, eyes wide, panic pinching your ribs together. “When?”
Silco’s head tilts to the side. “Yesterday. It wasn’t the first time. But he’s getting desperate.” He holds you still as you try to back away, the need to pace, to move, to do something, anything tingling through your nerves. “He’s going to have to go to the Enforcers soon.”
“You can handle enforcers,” you say with a frown. “I’ve seen you do it before, that officer comes to you every month.”
“Marcus will be a hand of assistance if it comes to that, but it won’t,” Silco says calmly. “I will handle Daiden. But it’s not safe for you to be in the undercity if he keeps asking the right questions.”
Silco’s arms fall away as you wrestle yourself free, hands flying to the crown of your head as you turn away from him, trying to think. “What do you mean?” you ask over your shoulder as your arms fall, fingers curling around the railing tightly.
“He’s paid off a set of street runners to look for you.” You turn around, questions leaving you but Silco raises his hands. “They came to me and I’ve handled it. Right now, he has no idea where you are, but desperation leads to unpredictable outcomes. You’ll be safer here.” He waves a hand towards the city.
“You’re not leaving me here again,” you warn, turning around.
Silco’s shoulders slump. “Y/N, I—”
“No.”
The pair of you stand off, as you both fall silent. Your hands shake before balling up into fists at your sides. Silco crosses his arms before looking down at his shoes.
“Fine,” he breathes out finally, looking up at you. He lifts his arms before dropping them in a shrug. “Fine, I won’t keep you here.” You lean against the rail with a sigh of relief as he approaches you. He mirrors you, elbow resting on the half wall of railing. You peer at him as he reaches out, dragging his hand up and down the side of your arm. “I didn’t bring you here to scare you.”
“Everything scares me these days,” you reply, looking out over the city.
White gulls swoop this way and that over the harbor. Ships horns echo in the distance. And that breeze that was cool the night before is warm against your cheeks, your skirt fluttering along with it as if it wants to pull you along and lead you somewhere far away.
“Do you ever consider it?” Silco’s voice asks.
Your focus is pulled away from the birds and the shining buildings. You glance at him, his lips in a tight line. “Consider what?”
“Going back to him.”
You blink your eyes as your mind questions exactly what he’s asking. “To Daiden?” you ask, reaching up to pull a wayward strand of hair out of your face. “Of course not.”
Silco’s gaze drifts to the city skyline. “Of course not,” he murmurs. “What about the baby?” he asks, turning back to you.
A shocked huff leaves you. “Silco, what are you—”
“Would you give him your child if he promised to let you go your separate way?”
You stare at him. He stares at you. “How can you even ask me that?”
“You wouldn’t be abandoning them. In comparison to a child of Zaun, they’d be educated, richer than any person has a right to be before they’re even a year old—”
“They’remine,” you all but hiss. Silco falls silent. “It’s my child.”
Silco closes his eye as you fume and bows his head before slowly opening that one blue eye, a sharp breath pulling past his lips. “I know that.”
“Do you?” you whisper, shoulders tensing as you push his hand away where he tries to touch you. “Do you want me to get rid of them? Give them to their monster of a father and pretend they never existed?”
“I want you to be happy,” Silco says sharply, hands grabbing at the air in front of him as he gestures this way and that. “I told you I will handle Daiden and I will but I need to know what I have to work with.”
“Nothing,” you say just as sharply and he blinks at you. “You have nothing to work with, if it means I have to go back to him or lose my baby.”
A tense moment passes between you. Silco’s shoulders square themselves and he clasps his hands behind his back.
“I understand,” he says stiffly.
You step forward, without thought until your face is just inches from his. “Do you?”
His eyes narrow for the shortest of moments. It’s like staring into a midnight storm, black clouds swirling, broken by golden lightning. Then they calm. His shoulders relax and his arms fall forward. “I didn’t mean to upset you – that’s the last thing I want.” He reaches up, fingertips grazing your cheek. “I want to keep you safe. Like I promised.”
Your lips press together tightly. “You can’t trade with Daiden, Silco. He won’t let us go.”
He slides his fingers through your hair and nods. “I know,” he says peering over your head at the city in the distance. “Forget that I even asked such a thing,” he murmurs shaking his head. He looks down at you. “Forgive me?”
You swallow, your own hands rising up to settle over his chest. You look up at him, the slightest of nods leaving you. “Take me home?” you murmur.
A/N: I feel like in this chapter older, logical, devious Silco came out to play for a bit before getting put in time out by Y/N. Beginning of the end anyone??????? Also kinda a big believer in the whole, “the longer you’re with someone, the harder it is for them to hide their true selves.”
Taglist: Please comment to let me know if you would like to be tagged in future updates!
Ever watch a new movie/series or even rewatch sth and realise you understand the Villain’s point of view? I’m currently watching ep.3 of Arcane and I just paused the ep for like 30 minutes to have an existential crisis because Silco started making sense and oh no oh no
