ARCANE | Powder's Hideout Matte Paintings | Melvin Limoge

Stolen Moments

You chose the perfect moment to knock on Silco's office door, finding him in a rare lull between his ceaseless duties.

Pairing: Silco x gn!reader

Words: ~2.3k

Content: mostly fluff, suggestive, some power dynamics, newly established relationship, slow burn, not explicit but i'm gunna say nsfw-ish just to be safe (18+, MDNI)

A/N: Its been a long long while since I've written anything. IDK what I'm doing but I'm doing it.

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“Yes?” Silco's calls out with a hint of weariness, a frown creasing his brow as he anticipates yet another demand on his precious time. The knock on his door came right as the Zaunite leader had pulled a cigar out to enjoy before his next appointment and he was looking forward to a few rare moments of silence to gather his thoughts.

Standing on the other side of the door to his sanctuary, you smirk just before peeking your head in with a small "Hi." Sevika had warned you that he was in a 'mood' before you wandered into The Last Drop, and you hoped to bring him some relief, even if it was temporary.

Any hint of annoyance immediately melts away as his eyes meet yours — a low hum of pleasure escaping him as he waves you in, the freshly rolled tobacco still in hand. You slid into the chamber dressed in your usual attire, albeit with some extra flair... and you sensed that he noticed, just as you hoped he would.

"My little Dove," he purrs affectionately. The nickname sparks a fluttering sensation in your chest. You find yourself momentarily flustered, a light blush tinting your cheeks as you shift ever so slightly under his intense stare. The term manages to stir both a sense of closeness and shyness within you. The Eye of Zaun's gaze then sweeps over you, a mix of appraisal and undisguised interest. His eyes, sharp and calculating, soften momentarily as they trace the contours of your figure, hinting at thoughts kept carefully concealed. "What impeccable timing you have," he adds. His words linger in the air, filled with an unspoken understanding.

You beam at him, a soft chuckle escaping your lips bashfully. "I had a feeling you might be happy to see me." Your steps echo softly as you wander further into the room, your curious eyes scanning the various objects around his office. Each visit reveals something new, offering intriguing insights into the man across the room.

"Indeed, I am — I must admit, it’s not often that someone seeks my company without an agenda. Your presence is more appreciated than you might realize." He leans back in his chair, his orange eye glinting as he watches you intently. "Though my time is a luxury today. Come, let us make it count,” Silco says, his voice a blend of authority with an underlying warmth, instructing you to share in his moment of rest with a sense of urgency.

... And you are more than happy to acquiesce.

With a playful skip, you move around his desk, intending to perch on the corner, careful not to disturb any papers. Before you can settle, Silco reaches out, his fingers wrapping gently but firmly around your wrist. His touch, unexpectedly warm, sends a ripple of excitement through you as he guides you into his lap, his lips crashing into yours with need. You hum in bliss, your hand caressing the edge of his jaw, fingers weaving carefully through his hair, mindful not to dishevel it too much. Under your touch, the Industrialist's shoulders drop, tension melting away — his concerns, momentarily forgotten.

As you both part, Silco reaches for his lighter with deliberate slowness, his movements precise and practiced before spinning his chair to face the large, round window, its eerie green light casting long, undulating shadows across the room. The outside world vanishes, leaving just the two of you in this secluded, spectral sphere -- hiding you from any unexpected intrusions.

"Now, to what do I owe this pleasure, my Dove?" He rumbles, resting his cigar between his chipped teeth, looking up at you with that familiar, two-tone stare.

"I was in the area and... Well, I just wanted to see you,” you admit, the words sheepish yet sincere. “I know you're swamped, but...” Your voice trails off, leaving the sentiment hanging in the air, simple yet profound.

Silco raises a hand, acknowledging and waving away any concerns you might have. “This time, these moments – they’re yours,” he asserts, his tone softening. “Even if it’s just a fleeting respite from the chaos outside, they belong to us.” His words, both reassuring and commanding, further quell your concerns. You savor these rare, quiet interludes, and you're grateful that he does too.

As Silco returns his attention to the cigar, the flicker of his lighter momentarily casts a dancing glow on his face. The flame illuminates the rugged contours of his features, etching shadows that play across his scarred visage. His expression, usually so composed and unreadable, softens in the dim light, revealing a rare vulnerability.

You lean in closer, drawn irresistibly to the dichotomy presented by his hardened exterior and the fleeting glimpses of something more beneath. Each line on his face, each subtle shift in his expression, speaks to a life of resilience and unspoken trials. The green hue of the room bathes him in an almost ethereal light, accentuating the unique blend of strength and weariness that he embodies.

Silco, seemingly aware of your gaze, meets your eyes for a moment. In that brief exchange, a silent conversation unfolds. His eyes, a deep well of uncharted emotions, flicker with a blend of curiosity, caution, and a hint of something warmer. It is a look that speaks of battles fought, both outside and within, and of a guarded heart cautiously navigating the perils of intimacy.

The smoke from his cigar begins to curl upwards, weaving through the air like a sinuous dance. It adds a layer of mystique to the already charged atmosphere, a tangible reminder of the complexities surrounding both of you. Yet, in this shared space, surrounded by the spectral light and the quiet hum of the city beyond, there's a sense of peace.

Your fingers itch to trace the lines of his story, to explore the depths of his character that so few get to see. Throughout this cautious dance of intimacy, you've learned to tread gently, aware that delving too deep too quickly could fray the delicate threads of trust you've painstakingly woven between you. In this moment, under the interplay of light and shadow, you see not just the leader of Zaun, but the man behind the title — enigmatic, profound, and irresistibly human.

Captivated and unable to resist further, you gently trace the scar around his left eye, your touch tender and inquisitive.

"What?" he asks, one brow arching above his sea-foam eye, a hint of suspicion in his tone at the attention being paid to the other.

A pause hangs between you as you ponder your next words. "... You're beautiful," the words escape your lips in a whisper, almost hesitant. You watch as they land on him, seeing the way his eyes widen imperceptibly, a crack in his usual stoic armor.

Silco’s response is a momentary silence, a rare loss for words, before a quiet, almost incredulous chuckle escapes him -- as if to deflect the tender compliment. “That’s a first,” he murmurs, a note of surprise coloring his tone as his eyes scrutinize yours for any hint of insincerity or taunting. But he finds none... just your genuine touch, continuing its exploration in silence.

... He quickly realizes that you mean it, and that unexpected honesty catches him off guard, stirring a tempest of emotions within the hardened leader.

As you pull your hand away, Silco's chest tightens, a storm of conflicting feelings swirling inside. His gaze lingers on you, seeking anchorage in the present amid the tumult of his thoughts. To buy time, he takes a slow, deliberate draw from his cigar, the smoke curling around you both as he processes…

The l u s t -- For the stunning creature in front of him that he snared in his web.

... And an adoration for your willingness to stay that way.

A drop of guilt ... For coveting such a soul like yours.

... But also, an unyielding resolve to never let you go.

The FEAR... For what could be l o s t if he wasn't careful.

... Yet hope for what could be if he was.

Above all, honor — for your choice to be with him, accepting all that he is ...and all that he is not.

Every. Single. Time... So far, anyway.

These emotions swirl within him, a maelstrom of desire, fear, and awe. But then, with a subtle exhale, he releases the smoke, along with the knot of thoughts threatening to draw him away from this moment of connection.

Your face starts to fall, worried you've overstepped, and you part your lips to apologize. But before you can speak, Silco wraps his arm around you, pulling you deeper into his lap.

"You're too pure for this world," he whispers, the warmth of his breath against your skin. His hold tightens, a gesture not just of possession but of deep care. "But don't worry, my Dove," he adds, a sly smirk playing across his lips as he gently rocks his hips, his growing affection evident against you, "...I'll take care of that."

His voice is murmur, a blend of mischief and promise. The intensity in his gaze suggests a longing that goes beyond this stolen moment, restrained only by the call of duty.

And as if on cue, a knock ripples through the tranquility of the office, serving as both a reminder and an interruption. "Boss, your next appointment is ready," Sevika announces from the outside world, her tone carrying the weight of his responsibilities.

A flash of disappointment crosses your face, mirrored subtly in the mismatched eyes that watch you. Silco catches it, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. "… Tell them I'll need a few more minutes," he responds, his voice smooth yet firm as he takes another draw from his cigar. The unspoken words hang in the air between you with the smoke that was slowly dissipating — if not for these duties that bind him, this moment would have stretched into something more.

Sevika's footsteps retreat in silent acknowledgement, granting you both a brief extension of your private world. "A few stolen moments are all we have sometimes," he says softly, the usual hardness in his eyes giving way to a tender sincerity.

You let loose a soft sigh, resisting yet ultimately accepting of the situation. "I'll take whatever I can get," you breath, careful to not disturb the moment too much. His hand, warm against your back, pulls you a fraction closer and you lean forward to rest your forehead against his in quiet gratitude for another few beats.

You can feel the Zaunite shift as the minutes are spent, resisting the return of his hardened facade as the anticipation of his next task intrudes on his fleeting reprieve. "… I'm afraid duty calls," he says, a hint of regret lacing his words. “But trust me, there will come a day,” Silco says, his voice low and laced with a promise, “when I can give you not just moments, but hours, days... uninterrupted. Just be patient with me, my Dove.”

This time, it's you that is caught in a stunned silence. His words, a promise veiled as a whisper. In his embrace, you find a reassurance that goes beyond the confines of time and duty. It's a pledge of more — more time, more often, more of him.

As you reluctantly disentangle from his hold, preparing to step back into the world outside, Silco's gaze lingers on you with an intensity that speaks of future encounters. “This isn't the end, only a pause,” he assures you, his voice low and resonant. He leans forward, the distance closing as his lips brush softly against yours, each second savored.

In those final moments, as the green light bathes you both one last time, you understand the weight of his promise. It's not just words, but a vow — a vow to make up for every second lost to the demands of his world, a vow to explore the depths of what you both could be, when time finally allows.

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As the day finally began to come to a close, Sevika stepped into the dimly lit office and closed the door, her posture rigid with an urgency that commanded attention. Silco, still seated behind his desk, looked up from his paperwork, an air of expectancy in his gaze.

“Boss, we need to talk,” Sevika’s voice was firm, brooking no room for dismissal. “It’s about your most recent muse,” she nodded towards the door you had exited through some time ago, her expression serious.

Silco’s hand paused, the paperwork momentarily forgotten. “Go on,” he prompted, his voice betraying none of his thoughts.

“This relationship, it’s a risk. It makes you vulnerable, and vulnerabilities in our position can be fatal,” Sevika’s tone was unwavering, her concern clear.

Silco regarded her silently for a moment, his eyes reflecting a complex mix of acknowledgment and defiance. “They’re not the first to catch my attention, nor will they be the last...” His voice trailed off, uncharacteristically, as his own words sunk in and stirred a fierce rejection of his own statement.

“Bullshit. I see that look in your eye when they're around. This is different.” Sevika pressed, “And have you considered how Jinx might react to this? She's volatile, and if she senses she's losing your focus, it could lead to trouble. We can’t afford more instability.”

While the turmoil bubbled beneath his skin, Silcos hardened expression remained, unwilling to let Sevika know she's right nor unable to ignore her words of caution. "I'll handle it." He states flatly, returning to the documents on his desk.

Sevika pauses and studies him for several long moments before clenching her fists, sensing Silcos resistance yet knowing the discussion has been concluded. “... Just be careful, Boss. We can’t let our guard down. Not now."

After Sevika left, Silco turned back to the window, his mind a tumult of thoughts. In the reflection, his eyes held a depth of emotion seldom seen — a mix of determination and an unspoken conflict within. This connection with you had indeed become stronger than he expected, and Sevika wasn't wrong…

… This was different.

Check out Drink with Me by InkandDagger 🫶

Silcos tattoo - figuring ojt jiw the hell this mans clothes would work for this was a logistical nightmare

i promised you 🦋

(crossposting from x, bsky, & ig)

ARCANE | Vander's Bar Matte Paintings | Martin Bailly

Made an arcane fan animation hehe

OMG HE’S SO HOT 😩😩😩😩

THANKS ANON here he is without a shirt on 👍👍👍👍

lazy mornings at the Last Drop ☕☀️

I'm gonna be playing devil's (Silco's) advocate for the near-end of the tea party scene because I've been going back and forth on this shit for the past week.

My thoughts: Silco didn't shoot at Vi with intentions to kill her, but rather to make her stop talking.

But wasn't he literally out to kill her before episode 9?? Yes, he was, but that was before Jinx knew she was alive. When she did find out, he gave up the hunt and redirected his focus to his daily routine.

Really, Silco just isn't stupid enough to kill Vi after that, much less in front of Jinx, even if he's high on adrenaline because unlike her, he is not impulsive. He knows Jinx is unpredictable, so there's no telling how she'll react if he did and if he can excuse his way out of it. And thanks to that tea party, he now also knows that there will always be a part of his daughter that yearns for Vi no matter how many baptisms he puts her through, similar to how he kept his respect for Vander.

But I would also like to point out that just like Jinx switching moods, Silco alternates between manipulative rat to protective father in 0.5 seconds. Before Jinx started spiraling, he was persuading her; when she confronted him about Vi, he told her to complete the weapon, etc. Yet the moment she shows signs of being on the verge of a breakdown, he puts her first—shooing her fears and doubts in his own twisted way, and not speaking over Vi's pleas to reach her when he's supposed to be the master of coercion. Instead he yells at Vi to 'shut up' because she has no idea what she was actually doing to her sister.

But Vi keeps going, and Silco desperately tries to break free from his ropes instead of talking—again, his specialty—to Jinx for what I assume is an attempt to go and comfort her (previous episodes suggest physical touch does that well). Unable to do so leaves him one option: the gun.

This is the part that made consider my main point. Before Jinx even fires, Silco aims and shoots.

The bullet goes not even remotely close to Vi's head or torso, but on the far side of her chair. Had she not moved, the most damaged would've been her arm. That shit was a warning shot.

Jinx killed him from a warning shot...