Silco X Reader - Blog Posts

UGHH buying a specially made strap for him😋😋

Subby!Silco Headcannons 😋

Content Warnings: Subby!Silco, GN!Reader, oral (reader receiving), oral (male receiving), fingering (reader receiving), p in v/a sex, begging, dom/sub, edging, pegging/Silco getting fucked, cum permission

Obviously NSFW below the cut!!

• To cut to the chase, giving head is undeniably one of his his favorites, there's nothing quite like it.

• Your ass hanging off his desk and his head buried between your thighs, he'll stay there for hours.

• Orgasm after orgasm he begs you to let him keep going, to taste you more.

• "Please, sweetheart, one more. Please please please, I know you're so tired but I just need more of you, this is the last one. Mmm, god, you taste so good..."

• His hands are busy as they'll ever be, one holding your thigh and the other making quick work of his cock as he edges himself through the whole thing, not cumming until after he's done with you and you tell him he can.

• He'll beg for that too.

• "Please, let me cum, please, oh- fuck! I'm so close, I did so well, will you let me cum?"

• He loves to finger you, to watch you squirm when he crooks his fingers just the right way; he certainly loves hearing you call out his name and praise him for his work.

• Sex leaves him fucked-out and it's beautiful, watching how disheveled and utterly speechless he is as you ride the life out of him or as he fucks his cum into you.

• Will beg for you to ride him, and he takes full advantage of the perks when you do, holding your chest and touching you constantly.

• Fucking him (w/ dick or strap) is a surreal experience, seeing such a strong pillar of Zaun leadership reduced to a twitching, horny puddle that will do anything for you to fuck him until he can't think.

• He squirms a lot, readjusting his grip on anything he can find, rutting his hips against you, there's too much energy in it for him to stop moving.

• The noises he makes are completely insane, nothing one could ever imagine coming from Zaun's Kingpin Industrialist.

• Moans and gasps, sometimes whines and higher-pitched cries, feral sobs and babblings of your name to not stop, go faster, harder...

• "Oh my god oh my godohmygod! Keep going please oh my god keep going! Just like that, make me cum, please- ah!"

• Will do anything to have your mouth on his cock, but he almost never asks for it, it's always a reward, but he loves the feeling.

• Will throat fuck you if you let him and despite the control you give him in doing so, he still only cums with permission.

• "Thank you, oh my god thank you. Ha! Do that again with your tongue p-please- oh my- fuck!"

• Calling him "good boy" induces a surprisingly physical reaction along with likely a whimper or moan, but he won't say he's your good boy.

Coming back to this bc I genuinely fucking heart sub silco sm😍

I WILL fuck that old ass man

                     THE BAAAAD TOUCH!

synopsis. there’s a very thin line between the way animals fuck on the discovery channel and the way you fuck them. featuring shameless, rough sex with the arcane men, and a third secret option at the end. jayce, vander, silco, viktor.

tags. top! reader, sub! jayce, vander, silco, viktor. reader has a cock. rough anal sex, creampie(s), exhibitionism, infidelity, cumslut! jayce, doggy, riding, size difference, huge cock, belly bulge, size queen! viktor, sweat kink, strength kink, breeding kink, implied marathon sex, dirty talk, degradation, praise kink, excessive amounts of manhandling, age difference, established relationships. cock-hungrified men. (lmao)

a/n. inspired by this song from bloodhound gang.

“does she know?” you pant into his ear, grip strong and sweaty on his hips, and jayce feels dirty, the way he’s being mounted like a bitch. “does she know about the way i fuck you? the sounds you make when i fill your pretty hole up?”  

he shudders, shaking his head, nails raking down your biceps as he tries to lift his head, to be less vulnerable in the way you’re taking him, but to no avail. he feels the hot burn of your palm at the back of his neck, and he finds himself back with his cheek pressed against the sheets, back arching with the violence of forcing his body to accommodate both pleasure and pain plowing away at his dignity. 

 “fuck!” he gasps, “let’s not, nnngh! talk about this. not, not right now.” it’s not the first time you’ve brought mel up in a conversation, but hardly ever more than an offhand comment, something to tease, something for fun. this… this was unknown territory. 

“why? you don’t like it?” there’s a strange displacement in your voice, a touch whiny, as though you were pouting at his denial. jayce thinks he’s going insane, because as manipulative as you were, there was no way he could say no to you. not with that look on your face. the one he can’t see but knows it’s there. 

“doesn’t matter,” jayce whispers. “it’s not ri- right.” 

you want to laugh. it’s not right? so it’s all right and just if he sneaks into your bed almost every other night for you to get him off simply because said girlfriend never could—nights of sweat and sinful lovemaking that end with him sneaking out of your room with a limp—but it’s not okay if you want to talk about it? how was that fair? 

“you don’t like her anyway, do you?” you mutter. “you should just get rid of her and be with me.” you tighten your hold on him. you want it to bruise. you want him to go home with your marks on his body. you want mel to ask about them and jayce squirming as he tries to think of a stupid excuse to fool her again. faulty gym equipment. sparring session gone wrong. you know all of his excuses. it’s funny, the way he tries to patch things up. “this is cruel… to the both of us. don’t you wanna get this over with?” 

“it’s- unh, complicated!” jayce moans, but there’s nothing complicated about it, he just doesn’t want to talk. doesn’t want to feel the shame and guilt making his guts tangle and heart pound—the way you fit into him so perfectly, so innately, like you’ve always belonged inside him, a missing piece to his puzzle. 

he bites back a whine as the thick head of your cock pushes against his swollen prostate, and he’s not sure if he can even feel his legs at this point. it’s humiliating, the way you’re cooing nasty words into his ear, handprints branding his hips as you tug him up only to slam downwards against him, pushing him further down into the mattress with every heavy thrust. 

“why? what’s keeping you then? hah. don’t tell me. does she fuck you like this too?” you snarl, sucking hot purple bruises down the column of his neck, salt and iron underneath your tongue making you hungry, and he keens. “so desperate for cock you’d let your girlfriend fuck you, jayce? well? does she fuck you as good as i do?” 

“noo,” jayce slurs, shaking his head, “nothing’s as good. you’re the best. love it. love you.” 

“really?” you bark out a laugh, and he nods dumbly, like his body’s conditioned to respond to your every whim, wanting to please, to serve. “well, i don’t see it at all. only thing you could ever be in love with is my cock.” 

“ah- ah, yeah, that too,” he whines, “love you more.” 

“liar,” you growl, and he sobs out at the way your length drags across his walls, thick and girthy, missing his prostate on purpose. it’s a punishment, jayce knows. he’s sorry. he feels so guilty. “pretty slutty liar. you’ll do anything to get stuffed, won’t you? even if it means cheating on your little girlfriend. you’ll even enjoy it, the moment you break her heart.” 

jayce shakes his head, tears blurring his vision. he can’t even say anything at this point, with the way you’re forcing him to take, fucking the words out of him. he can’t help being addicted to this. it’s too good. mel would understand, wouldn’t she? she would, if only she could have a taste of it. it’s not his fault. not really. 

“you probably think she’ll never know. you probably think she’ll never find out.” you’re talking again, but the sounds buzz by, barely intelligible. jayce swallows, letting your accusation wash over him. he has been careful, hasn’t he. surely she won’t know. surely she can’t know. “the way you start crying when you’re about to cum. you think she’ll never know about that, right?” 

he doesn’t know what you mean, but it’s so hard to think. there’s wetness on his cheeks and the low flame in his belly has blazed into a forest fire. he wants to cum. he needs it. he needs it hard and rough, bruises on his waist and hips and love bites on his collarbones, hard, heavy thrusts that make him feel dizzy and high and stupid, drowning him in the throes of pleasure that only you can give to him. 

“please,” jayce begs, tears streaming down his face. “i want, ngh… ah, want your cum in me.” 

and before he knows it, there’s the rush of hot cum flooding his hole, the sweaty press of your chest against his back, your hips trembling and bucking against his, and it’s so good it makes him see stars. but you don’t stop. it’s messy and filthy, and pure bliss when he feels you snake a hand into his hair and wrench his head up, rough and careless just the way he likes it. 

his eyes roll back before his cock starts helplessly spurting at the sight of mel standing in the doorway, watching him being bred like a whore.

VANDER

. . . vander thinks he maybe maybe made a mistake, telling you to be rough with him. because this is exactly the kind of rough he likes. 

“oh, fuck, sweetness,” he moans, arousal bleeding into his guttural voice as he arches his back and cants his hips backwards to receive your thrusts, taking you deeper inside, his ass bouncing every time you meet his hips with a wet, nasty ‘pap’. “t-thaat’s it, kid. right there, fuck, harder…” 

he’s clutching his pillow tightly, waves of pleasure shackling him to the bed as you’re pounding away at his hole from behind. you’ve snaked a hand into his hair to wrench his head up roughly, and a low whine pushes its way past his lips, punctuated by a sharp, deadly thrust aimed at his prostate. he’s pretty sure his own cock’s rubbed raw against the sheets, spurting so much pre there’s a sticky, slippery pool underneath him—easing the steamy push and glide. 

there are stars bursting at the corners of his eyes, threatening to consume his vision, and he can vaguely feel his toes curl and thighs spasm at every brush of your cock against his bundle of nerves. there’s sweat dripping down his face, a salty tang on his tongue, and he wipes his forehead with the back of his hand, hearing nothing but his own heavy pants and groans, attuned to the rhythm of your thrusts. it’s too good. almost makes him feel young again. he’s halfway through his forties, and yet you’re fucking him like he’s twenty. 

vander can feel your hands all over him, pressing heavy bruises onto the tender fat of his waist and hips, bodily dragging him back onto your cock every time you ram forward, making sure to put your entire weight behind it. the mattress is letting out horrible creaking sounds, the headboard of the bed slamming into the wall in perfect tempo, and the both of you are going to regret this later, but fuck, he doesn’t care. 

it’s addicting. it’s violent. vander shouldn’t be enjoying this, but he is. 

“fuck, love, y’er gonna make me cum already,” he chokes out, and it’s more of a drunken slur, really — there’s something about the way you’re treating him that makes him dizzy and weak at the knees. his fists are clenched, grasping at the bedsheets every time he feels like snaking a hand between his legs and jerking off to your thrusts. he wants to enjoy it, savour it—the way you’re taking him, pressing him into the mattress like you’re trying to break the bed before you break him, gaze hungry enough to swallow him up in your lust. 

“go ahead and cum, vander,” you drawl, grabbing a handful of his ass before sharply spanking him across, the sting rewarding you with a full-body shiver. “i want you to cum like it’s your last night on earth.” 

who the absolute fuck does this kid think he is, vander thinks, and he quickly buries his face back into the pillow because he knows he’s going to get loud. you’re insane. insanely bad at dirty talk, but your hunger makes up for it. he’s never liked dirty talking that much, but fuck, if you weren’t something different. cum like it’s his last night on earth? he really underestimated how greedy you were. 

“cocky,” he wheezes instead, once he’s caught his breath, “y’er gonna, haah, hafta fuck me harder for that to happen.” it’s yet another bad decision, and he’s digging his own grave, he knows it. as if you aren’t already fucking him within an inch of his life—the bulbous shape of your cockhead digging into his prostate with such immaculate precision, pressing the shape of your handprints into his skin as you fuck him with your eyes, your hands and your cock. 

hungry. intense. unforgettable. vander doesn’t think he’ll ever get enough of it. 

before he can even breathe, you’ve hooked one arm under his thigh, tossing him over onto his back like you’re flipping a fucking pancake, and vander’s not a delicate man by all means. without wasting a second, you’re pushing inside him again, groaning shamelessly as his wet, warm cave engulfs you perfectly. vander makes a desperate noise, eyes squeezing shut—there’s no pillow to muffle his cries or hide his expressions from you this time, but he’s far too close to be embarrassed. 

the new position’s got you so deep inside him, and it’s getting harder to breathe, almost as though he could feel you all the way to his throat. it’s uncomfortable and very inconsiderate of his aching back, but the mind-numbing pleasure hammering away at his sweet spot makes up for it. 

“s-so fuckin’ good, kid,” he pants out, arching his back with a moan as you reach down to grope at his tits, the muscles plump and soft with tender age, hole clenching around you tightly every time you tug at his perky nipples. his cock’s all leaky, drooling over his stomach and making a mess, and he’s so aroused it’s almost endearing. “fuck me… god, fuck me.” 

he’s going to cum hands-free, vander thinks, and shit, you’re going to be so smug about this after you’re done with having your way with him. vander sneaks a glance at you—eyelids fluttering, making little grunts of pleasure every time you bully your way into his tight wet warmth. it embarrassingly makes the back of his neck burn, makes him feel all hot and sexy and wanted. 

“yeah? best cock you’ve ever taken, vander?” you purr, and his breath stutters, seizing up with a yell and then he’s fucking cumming with you balls-deep inside him. guess you’ll take that as a yes.

SILCO

silco doesn’t know how long he’s been bent over in that same fucking position, but he doesn’t plan on making you stop anytime soon. 

“darling, not so rough. . .” he gasps out, nails raking down the expensive wood of his office desk while you plow away at him from behind, his hole sopping wet but tight, as though you haven’t cum two times in him already. he can feel his knees knocking into the hard front of the desk with every brutal thrust, the weeping tip of his erection grazing the cool mahogany, the pleasure inside him making his lower belly burn with a flame he hasn’t felt in a long time. 

“why?” you grin, draping yourself over his half-clothed stature, his pants yanked down to his ankles as he’s bent over to take. you shuffle forward, making sure his ass is pressed snugly against your crotch before giving an experimental roll of your hips, always reaching deeper, for more. “worried that they’ll hear?” 

silco presses his lips together in a thin line, tilting his face away from yours, and if you didn’t know any better, you would have thought he were sulking. you laughed. it was just too easy to piss him off sometimes. 

“i’m just playing around, baby. your office is soundproofed, no?” you straightened yourself, running a hand over the smooth, sensitive expanse of his back before returning to your firm grip on his bruised hips. he gave a shuddering sigh, trying to relax as you started to rock into him again with strong, steady thrusts. 

“it doesn’t matter,” he rasps, “we’re, hah, being too loud… sweetheart. s-sevika is right outside.” 

“don’t care,” you mutter. “i’m pent up. ‘least you can do is let me fuck you stupid. you’ll let me, right?” 

silco makes a noise at the back of his throat, half from displeasure, the other half from the sharp curl of arousal in his lower abdomen, making his cock twitch and leak. fuck if it didn’t turn him on when you talked to him like this. he settles for burying his face into his arms, preparing himself for whatever you were going to put him through. 

“be gentle,” he whispers, letting out a shuddering sigh. “i’m not so young anymore.” 

you could feel a grin pulling at the corners of your lips. yeah. sure, you were going to be gentle with him. with him looking like that. 

“hngh, r-right there…” silco mewls out, knees buckling repeatedly as he tries not to think about how loud he’s being. he supposes he could gag himself with something, your fingers, maybe, get them warm and wet for you while you use his face as leverage to fuck him harder, but he knows how much his noises spur you on, and right now he really doesn’t want to piss you off. not when you’re indulging him so well. “that’s it… you’re so good… darling.” 

“not so shy anymore?” you hummed, licking a hot stripe up his neck, his gasp twisting into a whine. “think we can make you louder?” 

“sweetheart,” he sighs as he feels your hand wrap around his throat, and he tilts his head back to let you grip it properly. “you already know what i want.” 

“well, i don’t think so.” you smile, leaning down to press your cheek against his, working away from behind with short, firm thrusts that steal his breath away. “remind me. did we use the magic word yet?” 

but just as he’s about to answer with snark, there’s the rap of fists against his office door, and silco feels his heart plummet. not now, when things were about to get good—this was the worst timing possible. “everything alright, boss?” 

“yes,” silco pants, “fuck… yes.” 

you can feel his nails dig into the back of your thigh, warning you not to pull out. you’re thick and heavy, resting against his stomach, and silco feels so fucking good and full. you can’t stop now. not until he’s had his fill. he can vaguely feel your warm seed trailing its way down his perineum in a slow trickle, and fuck, he wants more. wants to feel stuffed even without you inside him, drowsy and content. 

he blinks, brows furrowing as he catches himself fantasizing about you yet again. should he even be having thoughts like these in his forties? was this healthy? sex with you was life-changingly—and now apparently hormone-alteringly good. 

“sir?” sevika’s growl interrupts his train of thought. and yeah, not to mention—his second-in-command is right outside his office, while all he can think about is cock. shit. your big, leaky cock, buried to the hilt inside his hole. he wonders if it’ll be gaping once you’re done with him. and oh. cum. loads of your cum, filling up every inch of space inside him. making it hard to breathe. making him swel— “is someone in there with you?” 

“yes,” silco wheezes dumbly as you roll your hips against him with meaning, forcing him to take you deeper. he trembles, shifting back slightly to fuck himself on your cock, forcing a sharp inhale from you. “we are busy. you’re, oh… dismissed, sevika.” 

the silence is loud, save for the almost-silent squelches of your cock maneuvering inside him with all the cum stored in his belly. 

you can feel his heart pounding from the way your chest is pressed against his bare back. or maybe it’s your own. his walls squeeze around you, sinfully tight, pulling a muffled moan from where you have your teeth sunken into his shoulder. fuck. he’s—silco’s actually into this. you’d have never guessed he would be such a freak, for lack of a better word, but with how things were going . . . you didn’t mind it. not one bit. it drove you crazy with want, if anything. 

“... if you say so, boss.” the sound of retreating footsteps fills you with both relief and disappointment, but before you could even process what that means, you can feel silco gazing at you through his lashes, low and scrutinizing and something needy. 

“did i say you could stop?” silco grunts. “fuck me.” 

you let out a shaky sigh, hips already bucking back into the warm mould of your cock—and the next sound that drives past his lips is a loud and unabashed sob of your name. 

you think you might have unlocked something new in your lover.

VIKTOR

“it won’t fit,” viktor slurs, moans tumbling out of his mouth as he gives a shaky roll of his hips. he’s not quite there yet, with only the tip sucked in, but he’s making good progress. “i’m terribly s-sorry, dear. your… appendage. it’s too big.” 

his eyes flutter shut at the feeling of your hands forming a ring around his waist, strong and firm, a warm assurance that there was a possibility… although slight, that he’d make it. 

“it’ll fit,” you murmur, kissing the sensitive spot at the back of his ear, the one that makes him suck in a sharp breath and shudder. “you’re doing very good, love. just… a little more, yeah?” 

viktor looks down. it’s nowhere near a little more. you’re barely halfway in and he’s already thinking about quitting—has been, since the stupidly huge head of your cock breached his rim, making him feel a stretch that no amount of fingers or plastic toys could replicate. it was something extraordinary. overwhelmingly so. 

“please,” he mewls, forehead dropping to rest on your shoulder. “t-touch me? i think i’ll probably, hah, ease up a little if you would… oh, yes. thank you, dear. thank you.” 

it’s… in simple words, too much. you’re usually very considerate, taking your time with him with your fingers, rubbing on his tender walls until he loosens enough for you to slip another one in. the night would then end with you fucking his thighs, sticky and slick with his own cum. it’s good. it’s enough. that was until he started having thoughts of what it would feel like if you were inside him. 

but viktor would’ve never imagined it would be like this. the difference in size was just… comical. you were so deep inside him already, the impossible girth forming an obscene bulge over his abdomen, making him whine with the fullness. if this is already what it feels like to have you inside, then just what would it feel like to have you spill inside him?

he can’t lie—he’s spent nights waiting for you to fall asleep first so that he could scoop up some of the cum you had missed on the sheets, quietly fingering himself with the cold slickness. it didn’t feel right, even if it was yours. it just wasn’t the same. he wanted, no, needed to feel it for himself. 

it doesn’t help, the way you’re stroking him, ever so gentle with him. your huge palm covers his entire length without having to move much, huge thumb rubbing at his leaking tip, and viktor’s never been so hard before in his whole life. he’s so close already, hole fluttering around you uncontrollably, and it’s almost cute how it looks like it’s going to swallow you up. maybe it is. 

maybe it’ll fit. 

“last few inches,” you pant, fingers trembling slightly where you’re struggling not to press bruises into the cup of his hips. “can i-? please, vik. it’s so good. you’re so good. i just need a little more. please, baby.” 

“yes,” viktor blurts out, before he realises just what he agreed to—but within the next second he can feel something abnormally large pushing its way past his tight walls, faster and rougher than before, even as he tries to clench and hold still—it’s mean and a little too much, but then the back of his thighs meets hot skin and he nearly blacks out with the stretch of it all. 

“ngh,” viktor keens, trembling with exhaustion as he tries to settle into your lap comfortably with such a large intrusion within him. “soo full…” 

you sigh in pleasure, hands going back to his hips where they belong, pushing him down until you’re satisfied that he’s properly taken everything you’ve given him. it’s not a demand, viktor thinks, more like a comfort. telling him that you’ve always known he would’ve been able to take you in the first place. that this is where he belongs, filled to the brim with you and you only. 

he lets out a shuddering moan when you start to slowly bounce him on your lap, lifting him up with ease a good inch or two, before rolling your hips to meet his, pushing yourself deeper. “shit, vik…” you groan, and he cries out with every brush against his prostate, the sheer size of you making it impossible to miss it. “you’re so tight, baby… so perfect. i’m right here with you, okay? easy now, you’re doing so good.” 

you’re so good to him as always, whispering sweet nothings into his ear, but it’s different this time, and fuuck. viktor thinks he’s dying with how good it feels. he tries to steer his hips, to actually ride you instead of having you manhandling him up and down your cock, but there’s hardly any friction left now that he’s properly stretched, and any attempt results in him collapsing back to his knees, the pleasure making him weak. 

he settles for hanging onto you, arms wrapping around your neck and choking out little whimpers as you rock upwards into his waiting hole again and again, toes curling and nails scratching red trails down your back with the all-consuming pleasure.

it’s driving him crazy, the fullness, the simple thought of you pumping your seed and sperm into him, of making love with you. it’s nothing like the way it was written in the textbooks he had spent nights researching—it’s beyond anything he would have ever imagined. 

“please,” viktor sobs out, feeling strangely empty every time you pull out halfway, as ironic as it was—as though there was a chance you would leave him fully. the thought of it hurt. if only you could fit inside him forever. if only. “stay…” he cries, “cum inside. m-make me yours.” 

you lean forward, pressing your lips against his in a hurried kiss, at the same time grinding so deep viktor thinks, for a split of a second, that that might be you he’s feeling in his stomach. the broken wail he gives is loud and muffled, and you lap up the drool on the side of his face, watching as your lover’s eyes flutter shut at the feeling of being filled, properly this time, to the brink of spilling.

masterlist!

Dom Reader>>>> FOAMING AT THE MOUTH‼️‼️‼️

I love good writing 🤧

                     THE BAAAAD TOUCH!

synopsis. there’s a very thin line between the way animals fuck on the discovery channel and the way you fuck them. featuring shameless, rough sex with the arcane men, and a third secret option at the end. jayce, vander, silco, viktor.

tags. top! reader, sub! jayce, vander, silco, viktor. reader has a cock. rough anal sex, creampie(s), exhibitionism, infidelity, cumslut! jayce, doggy, riding, size difference, huge cock, belly bulge, size queen! viktor, sweat kink, strength kink, breeding kink, implied marathon sex, dirty talk, degradation, praise kink, excessive amounts of manhandling, age difference, established relationships. cock-hungrified men. (lmao)

a/n. inspired by this song from bloodhound gang.

“does she know?” you pant into his ear, grip strong and sweaty on his hips, and jayce feels dirty, the way he’s being mounted like a bitch. “does she know about the way i fuck you? the sounds you make when i fill your pretty hole up?”  

he shudders, shaking his head, nails raking down your biceps as he tries to lift his head, to be less vulnerable in the way you’re taking him, but to no avail. he feels the hot burn of your palm at the back of his neck, and he finds himself back with his cheek pressed against the sheets, back arching with the violence of forcing his body to accommodate both pleasure and pain plowing away at his dignity. 

 “fuck!” he gasps, “let’s not, nnngh! talk about this. not, not right now.” it’s not the first time you’ve brought mel up in a conversation, but hardly ever more than an offhand comment, something to tease, something for fun. this… this was unknown territory. 

“why? you don’t like it?” there’s a strange displacement in your voice, a touch whiny, as though you were pouting at his denial. jayce thinks he’s going insane, because as manipulative as you were, there was no way he could say no to you. not with that look on your face. the one he can’t see but knows it’s there. 

“doesn’t matter,” jayce whispers. “it’s not ri- right.” 

you want to laugh. it’s not right? so it’s all right and just if he sneaks into your bed almost every other night for you to get him off simply because said girlfriend never could—nights of sweat and sinful lovemaking that end with him sneaking out of your room with a limp—but it’s not okay if you want to talk about it? how was that fair? 

“you don’t like her anyway, do you?” you mutter. “you should just get rid of her and be with me.” you tighten your hold on him. you want it to bruise. you want him to go home with your marks on his body. you want mel to ask about them and jayce squirming as he tries to think of a stupid excuse to fool her again. faulty gym equipment. sparring session gone wrong. you know all of his excuses. it’s funny, the way he tries to patch things up. “this is cruel… to the both of us. don’t you wanna get this over with?” 

“it’s- unh, complicated!” jayce moans, but there’s nothing complicated about it, he just doesn’t want to talk. doesn’t want to feel the shame and guilt making his guts tangle and heart pound—the way you fit into him so perfectly, so innately, like you’ve always belonged inside him, a missing piece to his puzzle. 

he bites back a whine as the thick head of your cock pushes against his swollen prostate, and he’s not sure if he can even feel his legs at this point. it’s humiliating, the way you’re cooing nasty words into his ear, handprints branding his hips as you tug him up only to slam downwards against him, pushing him further down into the mattress with every heavy thrust. 

“why? what’s keeping you then? hah. don’t tell me. does she fuck you like this too?” you snarl, sucking hot purple bruises down the column of his neck, salt and iron underneath your tongue making you hungry, and he keens. “so desperate for cock you’d let your girlfriend fuck you, jayce? well? does she fuck you as good as i do?” 

“noo,” jayce slurs, shaking his head, “nothing’s as good. you’re the best. love it. love you.” 

“really?” you bark out a laugh, and he nods dumbly, like his body’s conditioned to respond to your every whim, wanting to please, to serve. “well, i don’t see it at all. only thing you could ever be in love with is my cock.” 

“ah- ah, yeah, that too,” he whines, “love you more.” 

“liar,” you growl, and he sobs out at the way your length drags across his walls, thick and girthy, missing his prostate on purpose. it’s a punishment, jayce knows. he’s sorry. he feels so guilty. “pretty slutty liar. you’ll do anything to get stuffed, won’t you? even if it means cheating on your little girlfriend. you’ll even enjoy it, the moment you break her heart.” 

jayce shakes his head, tears blurring his vision. he can’t even say anything at this point, with the way you’re forcing him to take, fucking the words out of him. he can’t help being addicted to this. it’s too good. mel would understand, wouldn’t she? she would, if only she could have a taste of it. it’s not his fault. not really. 

“you probably think she’ll never know. you probably think she’ll never find out.” you’re talking again, but the sounds buzz by, barely intelligible. jayce swallows, letting your accusation wash over him. he has been careful, hasn’t he. surely she won’t know. surely she can’t know. “the way you start crying when you’re about to cum. you think she’ll never know about that, right?” 

he doesn’t know what you mean, but it’s so hard to think. there’s wetness on his cheeks and the low flame in his belly has blazed into a forest fire. he wants to cum. he needs it. he needs it hard and rough, bruises on his waist and hips and love bites on his collarbones, hard, heavy thrusts that make him feel dizzy and high and stupid, drowning him in the throes of pleasure that only you can give to him. 

“please,” jayce begs, tears streaming down his face. “i want, ngh… ah, want your cum in me.” 

and before he knows it, there’s the rush of hot cum flooding his hole, the sweaty press of your chest against his back, your hips trembling and bucking against his, and it’s so good it makes him see stars. but you don’t stop. it’s messy and filthy, and pure bliss when he feels you snake a hand into his hair and wrench his head up, rough and careless just the way he likes it. 

his eyes roll back before his cock starts helplessly spurting at the sight of mel standing in the doorway, watching him being bred like a whore.

VANDER

. . . vander thinks he maybe maybe made a mistake, telling you to be rough with him. because this is exactly the kind of rough he likes. 

“oh, fuck, sweetness,” he moans, arousal bleeding into his guttural voice as he arches his back and cants his hips backwards to receive your thrusts, taking you deeper inside, his ass bouncing every time you meet his hips with a wet, nasty ‘pap’. “t-thaat’s it, kid. right there, fuck, harder…” 

he’s clutching his pillow tightly, waves of pleasure shackling him to the bed as you’re pounding away at his hole from behind. you’ve snaked a hand into his hair to wrench his head up roughly, and a low whine pushes its way past his lips, punctuated by a sharp, deadly thrust aimed at his prostate. he’s pretty sure his own cock’s rubbed raw against the sheets, spurting so much pre there’s a sticky, slippery pool underneath him—easing the steamy push and glide. 

there are stars bursting at the corners of his eyes, threatening to consume his vision, and he can vaguely feel his toes curl and thighs spasm at every brush of your cock against his bundle of nerves. there’s sweat dripping down his face, a salty tang on his tongue, and he wipes his forehead with the back of his hand, hearing nothing but his own heavy pants and groans, attuned to the rhythm of your thrusts. it’s too good. almost makes him feel young again. he’s halfway through his forties, and yet you’re fucking him like he’s twenty. 

vander can feel your hands all over him, pressing heavy bruises onto the tender fat of his waist and hips, bodily dragging him back onto your cock every time you ram forward, making sure to put your entire weight behind it. the mattress is letting out horrible creaking sounds, the headboard of the bed slamming into the wall in perfect tempo, and the both of you are going to regret this later, but fuck, he doesn’t care. 

it’s addicting. it’s violent. vander shouldn’t be enjoying this, but he is. 

“fuck, love, y’er gonna make me cum already,” he chokes out, and it’s more of a drunken slur, really — there’s something about the way you’re treating him that makes him dizzy and weak at the knees. his fists are clenched, grasping at the bedsheets every time he feels like snaking a hand between his legs and jerking off to your thrusts. he wants to enjoy it, savour it—the way you’re taking him, pressing him into the mattress like you’re trying to break the bed before you break him, gaze hungry enough to swallow him up in your lust. 

“go ahead and cum, vander,” you drawl, grabbing a handful of his ass before sharply spanking him across, the sting rewarding you with a full-body shiver. “i want you to cum like it’s your last night on earth.” 

who the absolute fuck does this kid think he is, vander thinks, and he quickly buries his face back into the pillow because he knows he’s going to get loud. you’re insane. insanely bad at dirty talk, but your hunger makes up for it. he’s never liked dirty talking that much, but fuck, if you weren’t something different. cum like it’s his last night on earth? he really underestimated how greedy you were. 

“cocky,” he wheezes instead, once he’s caught his breath, “y’er gonna, haah, hafta fuck me harder for that to happen.” it’s yet another bad decision, and he’s digging his own grave, he knows it. as if you aren’t already fucking him within an inch of his life—the bulbous shape of your cockhead digging into his prostate with such immaculate precision, pressing the shape of your handprints into his skin as you fuck him with your eyes, your hands and your cock. 

hungry. intense. unforgettable. vander doesn’t think he’ll ever get enough of it. 

before he can even breathe, you’ve hooked one arm under his thigh, tossing him over onto his back like you’re flipping a fucking pancake, and vander’s not a delicate man by all means. without wasting a second, you’re pushing inside him again, groaning shamelessly as his wet, warm cave engulfs you perfectly. vander makes a desperate noise, eyes squeezing shut—there’s no pillow to muffle his cries or hide his expressions from you this time, but he’s far too close to be embarrassed. 

the new position’s got you so deep inside him, and it’s getting harder to breathe, almost as though he could feel you all the way to his throat. it’s uncomfortable and very inconsiderate of his aching back, but the mind-numbing pleasure hammering away at his sweet spot makes up for it. 

“s-so fuckin’ good, kid,” he pants out, arching his back with a moan as you reach down to grope at his tits, the muscles plump and soft with tender age, hole clenching around you tightly every time you tug at his perky nipples. his cock’s all leaky, drooling over his stomach and making a mess, and he’s so aroused it’s almost endearing. “fuck me… god, fuck me.” 

he’s going to cum hands-free, vander thinks, and shit, you’re going to be so smug about this after you’re done with having your way with him. vander sneaks a glance at you—eyelids fluttering, making little grunts of pleasure every time you bully your way into his tight wet warmth. it embarrassingly makes the back of his neck burn, makes him feel all hot and sexy and wanted. 

“yeah? best cock you’ve ever taken, vander?” you purr, and his breath stutters, seizing up with a yell and then he’s fucking cumming with you balls-deep inside him. guess you’ll take that as a yes.

SILCO

silco doesn’t know how long he’s been bent over in that same fucking position, but he doesn’t plan on making you stop anytime soon. 

“darling, not so rough. . .” he gasps out, nails raking down the expensive wood of his office desk while you plow away at him from behind, his hole sopping wet but tight, as though you haven’t cum two times in him already. he can feel his knees knocking into the hard front of the desk with every brutal thrust, the weeping tip of his erection grazing the cool mahogany, the pleasure inside him making his lower belly burn with a flame he hasn’t felt in a long time. 

“why?” you grin, draping yourself over his half-clothed stature, his pants yanked down to his ankles as he’s bent over to take. you shuffle forward, making sure his ass is pressed snugly against your crotch before giving an experimental roll of your hips, always reaching deeper, for more. “worried that they’ll hear?” 

silco presses his lips together in a thin line, tilting his face away from yours, and if you didn’t know any better, you would have thought he were sulking. you laughed. it was just too easy to piss him off sometimes. 

“i’m just playing around, baby. your office is soundproofed, no?” you straightened yourself, running a hand over the smooth, sensitive expanse of his back before returning to your firm grip on his bruised hips. he gave a shuddering sigh, trying to relax as you started to rock into him again with strong, steady thrusts. 

“it doesn’t matter,” he rasps, “we’re, hah, being too loud… sweetheart. s-sevika is right outside.” 

“don’t care,” you mutter. “i’m pent up. ‘least you can do is let me fuck you stupid. you’ll let me, right?” 

silco makes a noise at the back of his throat, half from displeasure, the other half from the sharp curl of arousal in his lower abdomen, making his cock twitch and leak. fuck if it didn’t turn him on when you talked to him like this. he settles for burying his face into his arms, preparing himself for whatever you were going to put him through. 

“be gentle,” he whispers, letting out a shuddering sigh. “i’m not so young anymore.” 

you could feel a grin pulling at the corners of your lips. yeah. sure, you were going to be gentle with him. with him looking like that. 

“hngh, r-right there…” silco mewls out, knees buckling repeatedly as he tries not to think about how loud he’s being. he supposes he could gag himself with something, your fingers, maybe, get them warm and wet for you while you use his face as leverage to fuck him harder, but he knows how much his noises spur you on, and right now he really doesn’t want to piss you off. not when you’re indulging him so well. “that’s it… you’re so good… darling.” 

“not so shy anymore?” you hummed, licking a hot stripe up his neck, his gasp twisting into a whine. “think we can make you louder?” 

“sweetheart,” he sighs as he feels your hand wrap around his throat, and he tilts his head back to let you grip it properly. “you already know what i want.” 

“well, i don’t think so.” you smile, leaning down to press your cheek against his, working away from behind with short, firm thrusts that steal his breath away. “remind me. did we use the magic word yet?” 

but just as he’s about to answer with snark, there’s the rap of fists against his office door, and silco feels his heart plummet. not now, when things were about to get good—this was the worst timing possible. “everything alright, boss?” 

“yes,” silco pants, “fuck… yes.” 

you can feel his nails dig into the back of your thigh, warning you not to pull out. you’re thick and heavy, resting against his stomach, and silco feels so fucking good and full. you can’t stop now. not until he’s had his fill. he can vaguely feel your warm seed trailing its way down his perineum in a slow trickle, and fuck, he wants more. wants to feel stuffed even without you inside him, drowsy and content. 

he blinks, brows furrowing as he catches himself fantasizing about you yet again. should he even be having thoughts like these in his forties? was this healthy? sex with you was life-changingly—and now apparently hormone-alteringly good. 

“sir?” sevika’s growl interrupts his train of thought. and yeah, not to mention—his second-in-command is right outside his office, while all he can think about is cock. shit. your big, leaky cock, buried to the hilt inside his hole. he wonders if it’ll be gaping once you’re done with him. and oh. cum. loads of your cum, filling up every inch of space inside him. making it hard to breathe. making him swel— “is someone in there with you?” 

“yes,” silco wheezes dumbly as you roll your hips against him with meaning, forcing him to take you deeper. he trembles, shifting back slightly to fuck himself on your cock, forcing a sharp inhale from you. “we are busy. you’re, oh… dismissed, sevika.” 

the silence is loud, save for the almost-silent squelches of your cock maneuvering inside him with all the cum stored in his belly. 

you can feel his heart pounding from the way your chest is pressed against his bare back. or maybe it’s your own. his walls squeeze around you, sinfully tight, pulling a muffled moan from where you have your teeth sunken into his shoulder. fuck. he’s—silco’s actually into this. you’d have never guessed he would be such a freak, for lack of a better word, but with how things were going . . . you didn’t mind it. not one bit. it drove you crazy with want, if anything. 

“... if you say so, boss.” the sound of retreating footsteps fills you with both relief and disappointment, but before you could even process what that means, you can feel silco gazing at you through his lashes, low and scrutinizing and something needy. 

“did i say you could stop?” silco grunts. “fuck me.” 

you let out a shaky sigh, hips already bucking back into the warm mould of your cock—and the next sound that drives past his lips is a loud and unabashed sob of your name. 

you think you might have unlocked something new in your lover.

VIKTOR

“it won’t fit,” viktor slurs, moans tumbling out of his mouth as he gives a shaky roll of his hips. he’s not quite there yet, with only the tip sucked in, but he’s making good progress. “i’m terribly s-sorry, dear. your… appendage. it’s too big.” 

his eyes flutter shut at the feeling of your hands forming a ring around his waist, strong and firm, a warm assurance that there was a possibility… although slight, that he’d make it. 

“it’ll fit,” you murmur, kissing the sensitive spot at the back of his ear, the one that makes him suck in a sharp breath and shudder. “you’re doing very good, love. just… a little more, yeah?” 

viktor looks down. it’s nowhere near a little more. you’re barely halfway in and he’s already thinking about quitting—has been, since the stupidly huge head of your cock breached his rim, making him feel a stretch that no amount of fingers or plastic toys could replicate. it was something extraordinary. overwhelmingly so. 

“please,” he mewls, forehead dropping to rest on your shoulder. “t-touch me? i think i’ll probably, hah, ease up a little if you would… oh, yes. thank you, dear. thank you.” 

it’s… in simple words, too much. you’re usually very considerate, taking your time with him with your fingers, rubbing on his tender walls until he loosens enough for you to slip another one in. the night would then end with you fucking his thighs, sticky and slick with his own cum. it’s good. it’s enough. that was until he started having thoughts of what it would feel like if you were inside him. 

but viktor would’ve never imagined it would be like this. the difference in size was just… comical. you were so deep inside him already, the impossible girth forming an obscene bulge over his abdomen, making him whine with the fullness. if this is already what it feels like to have you inside, then just what would it feel like to have you spill inside him?

he can’t lie—he’s spent nights waiting for you to fall asleep first so that he could scoop up some of the cum you had missed on the sheets, quietly fingering himself with the cold slickness. it didn’t feel right, even if it was yours. it just wasn’t the same. he wanted, no, needed to feel it for himself. 

it doesn’t help, the way you’re stroking him, ever so gentle with him. your huge palm covers his entire length without having to move much, huge thumb rubbing at his leaking tip, and viktor’s never been so hard before in his whole life. he’s so close already, hole fluttering around you uncontrollably, and it’s almost cute how it looks like it’s going to swallow you up. maybe it is. 

maybe it’ll fit. 

“last few inches,” you pant, fingers trembling slightly where you’re struggling not to press bruises into the cup of his hips. “can i-? please, vik. it’s so good. you’re so good. i just need a little more. please, baby.” 

“yes,” viktor blurts out, before he realises just what he agreed to—but within the next second he can feel something abnormally large pushing its way past his tight walls, faster and rougher than before, even as he tries to clench and hold still—it’s mean and a little too much, but then the back of his thighs meets hot skin and he nearly blacks out with the stretch of it all. 

“ngh,” viktor keens, trembling with exhaustion as he tries to settle into your lap comfortably with such a large intrusion within him. “soo full…” 

you sigh in pleasure, hands going back to his hips where they belong, pushing him down until you’re satisfied that he’s properly taken everything you’ve given him. it’s not a demand, viktor thinks, more like a comfort. telling him that you’ve always known he would’ve been able to take you in the first place. that this is where he belongs, filled to the brim with you and you only. 

he lets out a shuddering moan when you start to slowly bounce him on your lap, lifting him up with ease a good inch or two, before rolling your hips to meet his, pushing yourself deeper. “shit, vik…” you groan, and he cries out with every brush against his prostate, the sheer size of you making it impossible to miss it. “you’re so tight, baby… so perfect. i’m right here with you, okay? easy now, you’re doing so good.” 

you’re so good to him as always, whispering sweet nothings into his ear, but it’s different this time, and fuuck. viktor thinks he’s dying with how good it feels. he tries to steer his hips, to actually ride you instead of having you manhandling him up and down your cock, but there’s hardly any friction left now that he’s properly stretched, and any attempt results in him collapsing back to his knees, the pleasure making him weak. 

he settles for hanging onto you, arms wrapping around your neck and choking out little whimpers as you rock upwards into his waiting hole again and again, toes curling and nails scratching red trails down your back with the all-consuming pleasure.

it’s driving him crazy, the fullness, the simple thought of you pumping your seed and sperm into him, of making love with you. it’s nothing like the way it was written in the textbooks he had spent nights researching—it’s beyond anything he would have ever imagined. 

“please,” viktor sobs out, feeling strangely empty every time you pull out halfway, as ironic as it was—as though there was a chance you would leave him fully. the thought of it hurt. if only you could fit inside him forever. if only. “stay…” he cries, “cum inside. m-make me yours.” 

you lean forward, pressing your lips against his in a hurried kiss, at the same time grinding so deep viktor thinks, for a split of a second, that that might be you he’s feeling in his stomach. the broken wail he gives is loud and muffled, and you lap up the drool on the side of his face, watching as your lover’s eyes flutter shut at the feeling of being filled, properly this time, to the brink of spilling.

masterlist!

4 times you sit on silco’s lap & the 1 time he pulled you onto his lap

Warnings. Sexual positions. No specific reader gender/genitalia. Impregnation kink (sorry yall its bad again). Not toxic girl dad!Silco. Pet name

1

You and Silco danced around the empty bar, twirling and singing and chasing and slipping out of each other’s fingers. For the past hour the pair of you had been letting the loud music from the jukebox reverberate through your bones as you moved fluidly around the room.

Silco’s silky black hair was pulled back into a tiny bun at the back of his head. Sweat beaded at his hairline. The little droplets grew fat and ran down his cheek bones and disappeared down the sharp edge of his jaw as he chased your laughing body. 

“Crazy,” he mused to himself as the song ended and you finally let him twirl you in by the hand. Silco dipped you, watching your smile widen. He held you there as you examined him through your striking eyelashes. He leaned down slowly, sensually and let his eyes flicker between your eyes and your lips. You were caught in his trap, lips parted as your eyes locked on his lips.

Further, slower, he leaned down until you could feel his gasps of air on your lips. He parted his lips and tilted his head closing the gap between you-

Silco stood up and twirled you again. The sexy smirk on his lips made you forgive him just a little for being the incredible tease he is. “Bastard,” you cursed him with a wicked smile.

“A thirsty bastard,” he corrected smartly. Taking you by the hand, Silco led you to the bar and gestured dramatically to an empty bar stool.

He poured your favorite and slid it to you before making his own drink. Silco rounded the corner and brought the stool next to you closer to yours. He had just put his glass bck on the counter before you slid into to lap, facing him.

“Sly thing,” Silco chided, hands settling on your ass.

“You love it,” you replied. You pulled the hair tie out of Silco’s hair and watched it settle around his features perfectly. “Pretty boy.”

Silco practically purred at your words. He brought a hand up to cup your cheek and placed the other at the back of your neck. “I do love it- love you.”

“I love you too,” Silco repeated, sealing his words with a kiss.

2

“Don’t look at me like that,” Silco muttered, voice raspy with- was it. . . lust? “You know I can’t work with you watching me like that.”

You tilted your head. “Like what?”

“Don’t be coy.”

Silco didn’t look up as you rose from your spot from the couch. You heard his breathing turn shakier as you approached. Chuckling, you pulled the back of his chair until you could grasp Silco by the collar.

He spluttered- an endearingly pathetic noise you’d like to earn from him again- as you tore him from the endless plans, letters, and work sitting on his desk as he prepared for the future of Zaun. Silco didn’t actuallytry to stop you, though, despite his unintelligible grumbling.

You pushed him onto the newly acquired couch. His back hit the cushions and his raven-black hair spread around his head like a halo. Smiled as you committed the imagine of him so off-guard to memory. “You’ve been working so diligently,” you purr, raising on knee to rest between Silco’s hip and the sofa back. “And so hard. . .” You placed your other knee on the sofa and so lightly started grinding on Silco’s boner. “I think you deserve a break.”

Silco was the one watching you through his lashes now. “Is that right?” His heaving chest showed his anticipation despite his usual calm voice.

“Oh yeah,” you reply with a dangerous smile.

3

It was a late night- the crowd at the bar had been rowdy and took a while to herd all the drunkards out, leaving you an exasperated mess. Not to mention the fact that you were dealing with an astounding amount of Enforcers after Jinx had gone and stolen a couple expensive looking watches and necklaces for some reason unknown to you. All in all, you were beat.

After tossing a wad of cash to the other bartender, you bid him goodnight and headed up the stairs.

“I was wondering when you’d be up to see me,” Silco greeted you from his desk. “Come here, my dear.” 

He watches your movements with those sharp eyes of his. You perched yourself on the edge of his desk and let Silco rest his head against your chest. You ran your nails through his hair the way you knew he liked. “We should go get ready for bed,” you murmured, feeling his arms wrap lightly around your waist.

Silco heaved a sigh. “I have work to do.”

It was your turn to sigh as you pushed off the desk. Silco looked up, brow arching, at you. His confusion waned as you straddled him, wrapping your arms around his neck. You felt the man under you shudder as he exhaled, stress slowly easing out of his body as you pressed soft kisses to the oh so fragile skin behind his ear. “You can do your work tomorrow after you get some sleep.”

Clearly your tender embrace had weakened Silco’s resolve because all he did in response to your statment was pull you impossibly closer to him. “I suppose you’re right,” Silco finally muttered into your shoulder.

4

Jinx and Silco were currently in disagreement over who would do Jinx’s hair, when they would be doing it, and the hairstyle Jinx wanted. For an eight year old, the little blue haired girl knew what she wanted. And it was that Sevika stayed as far as humanly possible away from the eight year old.

So that was why Silco had convinced you to go to barber near Benzo’s old shop. Something about ‘not being anle to contain such rage and emotion in such tiny body’ alone.

Truth be told, you weren’t well educated in children handling. Working with Silco and the traitor for most of your life gave you practically no time to interact with people under sixteen. Jinx had taken a liking to you- probably because you were one of the people she saw the most because of your relationship to her adoptive father. (On the certificate, you were also listed as a guardian.) So being able to style the girl’s hair as she liked would be a good skill to add to your already wide-ranging knowledge.

The two of you paid as much attention to the barber as possible. Jinx had selected a simple three strand braid that you got the hang of off the bat. Silco? Not so much, but the effort was there!

When you paid and left, Jinx was so happy with her hair and so convincing that she was given permission to play with the barber’s twin son and daughter. Silco had pressed a handful of coin into Jinx’s hand and told her to be home in two hours.

“You’re going soft,” you mused, jutting your hip into Silco as the two of you left. “It’s endearing.”

Silco recoiled. “I am not. Inconceivable.”

When you scoffed, Silco turned to you with his eyes narrowed. “Something to say, trouble?”

“Nah,” you drawled. “It’s… It’s nice to see this side of you again.”

Your lover wrapped an arm around your waist and led the two of you back home. “I haven’t felt more content in a long time,” he finally admits. Emotion made his voice gravely.

“Yeah.” You continued to walk, falling into silence. 

“I like watching you with her.”

Silco’s glinting eyes are already locked on your gaze when you look up. “Yeah?” You ask, suggesting smile beginning to pull up at the corner of your lips.

“Yeah. It makes me wish I could. . . fuck one into you,” he mutters.

Your eyebrows are higher than your hairline when he speaks. “Sil, you- you know I can’t-“

The dark lust in Silco’s eyes lighten. “That doesn’t mean I can’t fuck you like you could carry my children,” he tells you, an edge of an emotion you can’t quite put a finger on.

Silco pushes open the door to The Last Drop and flicks on one of the light switches. He turns to see you sitting on the table of a booth, watching him with an expression so vacant Silco wonders if this conversation is what finally sends you running. “Talk to me.”

Continuing to say nothing, you pat the table next to you. Silco pulls himself up beside you and examines your face carefully. He is apprehensive as you slide into his lap wordlessly and wrap your legs around his waist. You trace the calloused pad of your thumb from the very bottom of Silco’s scar surrounding his eyes. It’s when you near the tip-top of the marred flesh does Silco grasp your wrist.

“Speak to me, my dear,” Silco repeats. “What are you thinking? What do you want me to do?”

Silco lets your wrist go without much resistance. You tangle your fingers through his short hair. “I want,” you begin slowly, hearing his breathing cease entirely. “You to fuck me like you could knock me up.”

It takes Silco several seconds to compute your statement before leaning in to fucking devour your lips.

5

The bar was booming tonight.

Round after round, table after table, drink after drink. In informal terms: you were fucking slammed and the crowd wasn’t thinning out.

It’d been this busy for at least the past three hours and the pain in your feet and legs had been so God awful that you couldn’t wven feel them anymore. And the poor bartenders could barely open their mouths without someone spitting out orders or tossing coins or just pestering them.

You sighed. Nights like these made you really question your love of the damn building. 

An hour later, you could see a glimpse of the light at the end of the tunnel. With an end to the night in your near future, you found yourself walking a little faster: a little more eager to get the people more drunk and gone.

It was another whole hour before you were almost finished with the cleaning. All you had left to do was wipe down the counter and tables, put the chairs up on the table, and mop.

Silco finally slunk down the stairs to see you and the last, most desperate bartender mopping up. He slid into a booth and rested his head on his palm as he watched you.

When the two of you were officially done cleaning, Silco fished out a bag of coins from one of his pockets. “Here, kid,” he said before tossing the pouch at the awed bartender.

“I- Thank you sir,” the girl said gratefully, eyes flickering between you and Silco. You smiled at her tiredly.

“Good night, Mimi,” you told her.

Silco watched Mimi smile brightly at you- the significantly kinder of the couple- and nod excitedly. “Good night, y/n! Thank you again sir, and good night!”

You came to a stop in front of Silco and tugged your apron off. “How are you?”

Silco heaved a sigh. He reached out to you and turned you away from him. Then Silco pulled you down onto his lap. He comically scooched back until his back was against the wall and his and your legs tangled on the rest of the booth. “Better.”

As Silco wrapped his hands around your waist, you felt your back decompress as you leaned against the love of your life. Your eyes fluttered shut, heavy with sleep. “I love sitting on your lap,” you confess.

Silco hums, amused.

“Best seat in the whole damn house,” you say, yawning.

Before Silco realizes it, you’re asleep. He doesn’t want to get up because theres a chance you’ll wake up, but Silco also wants to get his love to bed.

He just rests his head on your shoulder and lets himself have this moment.

Silco on my mind 24/7🥵

how do we feel about power bottom silco!! i feel like he’s too bratty to fully submit but not bratty enough to fully take control?? or VIRGIN silco 😝😝😝 he’s been on my mind a lot he’s just so nom nom nom

ミ★ 𝐫𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐢𝐭 𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭! — 𝐬𝐢𝐥𝐜𝐨.

ミ★ let me tell you something- LET ME TELL YOU SOMETHING. this man would NEVER submit 100%. he needs the control to some degree. so even if you top him, you can never dom him, you get me?

ミ★ fem!reader, unprotected p in v, dom!silco, d/s undertones, sloppy rough sex, couch sex, cowgirl, language/dirty talk, begging, possessive!silco, mean!silco, dumbification, pure filth (sorry not sorry)

“tired already?”

silco sounds so monotonously bored, thick drawl almost disinterested — your thighs and face burn, both from exertion and indignation.

the plush couch creaks beneath your movements, groaning its distaste at the activity currently taking place on top of it — and you can’t help but feel as worn out as the couch itself.

silco sighs deeply and his long fingers curl around your hips. your heart lodges itself into your throat when he shoves his hips up, bullying himself deep inside you and forcing stars into your eyes.

“weren’t you going to ‘fuck me stupid’?” silco sneers, lidded eyes scrutinizing your fucked out body. “yet here you are. you’re about to crumble.”

you would feel more embarrassed if you weren’t so desperate.

“siiiiil,” you whine, pussy drooling and throbbing, so fucked open yet orgasm so far from your grasp. “please, wan’a cum.”

“think you deserve it, hm?” silco retorts immediately, hips rolling up into yours with wet smacks. “have you earned it?”

your eyes melt into your skull at the constant grind of his cockhead against your cervix — it’s too much yet not enough at the same time; intense pressure but lacking the brutal beating you need to cum.

“please,” you gasp out again, helpless and desperate — you wiggle your hips only for silco to bruise them with his fingertips.

“resorted to begging, have you?” silco hums, the roll of his hips morphing to shallow thrusts. it’s better, makes your pussy cry around him, rubs your walls with such sweet pressure — but it’s still not enough.

one of silco’s hands disappears from your hip and long fingers crawl up your scalp before gripping the hair at the back of your head. silco pulls just enough to expose your neck to him.

rough, chapped lips glide up the skin of your neck, sending shivers down your spine. silco’s breath is hot against your flesh when he murmurs, “beg me better, and i’ll use you like a little fucktoy.”

you swear his words alone are enough to fog your head completely; and you obey without a second thought, pouring all of your desperation and need into your pleas.

“please, sil, please fuck me. fuck me with your cock, i need it so bad, please —!”

teeth scrape against your jugular and silco growls, “better than that. if you want to cum so bad, beg me like you fuckin’ mean it.”

slick slurps and slaps punctuate his thrusts as he fucks inside you a little faster, bullying himself balls deep and slamming his cockhead into your cervix. mewls spill from your lips and your pussy flutters.

not enough. you need it rougher. you need him to use you like a little fucking doll. fuck your brains out of your ears. destroy you completely.

“use me. please, i’m your fucktoy. your little fucktoy. please use me, please, sil, your cock’s so good, fuck me — i’ll be so good, a good girl, please—!”

teeth and nails sink into your skin as silco snarls, balls slapping noisily into the flesh of your ass as his thrusts turn animalistic — he’s completely rough, merciless, uncaring of the way your body rocks and your lungs shrink, or the way he’s blinding you from the painful pleasure.

“oh, fuuuuck,” you mewl, voice spotty from the rabid jerks and throat sore — your pussy drools over him, crying from the dick plunging into it over and over; it feels so good, you swear you won’t last but a few seconds.

“thank you,” you gasp out, eyes rolling back. “than’you s’much, fuck, love it s’much.”

“fuck, babbling like some sort of idiot,” silco hisses, wet tongue laving sloppy over your throat. “so dumb from my cock. helpless, aren’t you?”

you can’t even process his words, but you nod anyway; your brain is melted in your skull, pussy sloppy and used and gut curled up with your building orgasm — you just want to cum all over him, paint his dick with your essence and feel him fuck it all out.

“lucky girl,” silco snarls, hand squeezing your hip tightly. “i’m feeling lenient today. so i’m going to make you cum so hard you faint, hear me?”

if only you could register how fucked you were in that instant.

“please, please! ‘s so good, make me cum, fuck, sil — mmmmm, ‘m close.”

silco’s hips piston into you at an inhuman speed, thick cock splitting you open and slamming your cervix so hard it’s knocking your breath out – but it’s everything you wanted, everything you needed; the very thing you’d been craving since you first sank down on his cock.

“who do you belong to, hm?” silco pants, voice stern and commanding despite its breathy quality. “who owns this sloppy pussy of yours?”

the only sounds you could make were whines, mewls, and moans — your coherency had long since been fucked from you, reducing you to nothing more than some limp cockwhore; and despite feeling lenient, silco wasn’t going to let that go.

“answer me or i’ll fuckin’ stop,” he threatens, kicking your heart into overdrive. “who fuckin’ owns you?”

“you do! you!” you yelp out, fingers scrabbling against his shoulders and hips shaking; your eyes are wet, fat tears teasing at the corners. “y-you own me. i belong to you, silco, please don’t stop, don’t—!”

“good girl,” silco purrs, shooting heat straight to your cunt. “such a good girl. now cum on m’cock, sweetheart. c’mon, make it messy. i know you want to, filthy girl.”

slick slaps and lewd moans, your pussy being split open over and over and cervix beaten in by silco’s cock — you’re so fucking close, you’re about to cum, you’re right fuckin’ there —

the sound that rips from your throat sounds almost inhuman — that coil in your gut snaps without much pre-warning, pussy gushing and fluttering around silco’s cock and waves wracking your entire body and leaving electricity in their wake.

“good fuckin’ girl,” silco coos, hips never slowing in their pace as he fucks you through your orgasm, groaning at the feel of your sloppy walls sucking him in. it was sending him into a frenzy — one that was sadistic and untamed, a fierce storm that demanded he absolutely wreck your body.

“keep coming, that’s it. mess it up f’me, baby. fuck, ‘m going to ruin you. don’t black out yet, dove. i’m just getting started.”

*locks myself back in the cabinet from whence i came* first time writing for silco, please forgive any mistakes 🙏

Silco x reader

Not requested

Takes place in episodes 5 and 6

Corilates with taking powder in

Vi and sevika had a fight.

sevika cane into the office all beat up when she told you and Silco. You were shocked.

Shocked to hear Vi was alive, to hear she was with an enforcer, and to see sevika beaten up so bad.

You wanted to she her again and apologize for what happened that night but thinking of jinx's reaction to it is not good considering.

You were always soft with kids so even if you were with Silco, Vander's kids were always welcomed around you while Silco kept a distance. You hated thinking about how Mylo and claggor died, but at that time you had your own healing to keep your mind busy.

Both of your legs from the knee down had been replaced with simmer powered metal prosthetics.

"Y/n" Silco pulled you out of your thoughts. "What's wrong." It didn't sound much like a question more like a statement.

"Vi is alive." It was the only thing you could say without going into to much detail.

"Knowing you this must make you happy." He got up from his chair and walked over to you putting his hand on your cheek rubbing you face with his done. "But this causes big problems for me. I want you to stay out of this." You wanted to say something but he left knowing you where stubborn and where going to go against him anyway and went off to have a word with Marcus.

While he was gone you went out looking for Vi in all the places you thought she could be.

You heard a lot of noises that sounded like fighting so you followed it.by the time you got there the fighting had stopped and you say jinx breathing heavily slumpted on the ground with her machine gun tossed away from her.

"Jinx are you alright, what's wrong?" You cautiously kneeled down to her and touched her shoulder. She jumped into your arms crying.

"She's alive. Did you know." She mumbled while you wrapped your arms around her patting her head gently.

"No I didn't, just found out today." You had no idea of what else to say. "Did you see her."

She mumbled a yeah. "She told me she never wanted to leave me... I was starting to believe her when- when that enforcer came then the firelights then she was gone." She held you so tight it started to hurt. You could tell she was starting to lose it from how fast she started to talk.

"They took her huh?" You felt her nod. You knew ekko was in the firelights so after getting powder back on her feet you went to see him.

*time skip*

You had a hood on with the shadow covering your face so you would be seen by Silco's people.

When you met up with ekko he immediately recognized you from all the time you had gone to see him.

"Can you believe Vi is really alive." He asked you as he lead you to a darkish room where Vi was. She was sitting with her back turned to you talking to who you assumed was the enforcer.

"Hello Vi." She turned around at the call of her name and was stunned. She got up and walked to you.

At first you thought she was at least a little happy to see you but instead she punched you. My god her punches hurt.

She was always full of surprises.

You stumbled back a bit about to question her she she hugged you. "I missed you ya know." You chuckled not being able to hug back cause she was hugging your arms.

"So have I." You said with a smile resting your head on her chin.

"So much."

can you do a silco x reader where he takes powder in 🥳

"Vi is a strong girl for her age" you mumbled standing next to Silco as Vi fought against men twice her age and size to protect Vander, " And loyal." You added as sevika pushed off the wall she was on ready to join the fight but Silco stopped her.

"Ready to rise to the surface." He said to the boy that previously had his head down. Handing him a glass of simmer.

The poor boy looked at it like a crack addict looks at crack after trying to go sober. You felt bad but there was nothing you could do, the damage had already been done.

You watched as a shakily popped open the bottle and drank it. Crushing it in his hand as his whole body started to mutate into a body builder of steroids.

You turn your attention back over to Vi who had just knocked out the last fighter on the walkway.

You close yours eyes as she rushes towards the beast.

Voice interrupt your attempt to not watch a child get murdered.

"Silco let her go. This is between you and me." You look over to see Vander and Mylo. Mylo was trying his best to set him free.

"You had your chance." Silco yells back as Vi's body being thrown to is in your vision.

All you could do is stand there watching.

You stand with the Nation of Zaun.

You stand with your husband.

But its hard to stay standing when you watch a child give her all to protect her family, crawling to cling to life for her family.

Vi closes the door before the mutation could get to it.

The beast bang on the door and for what feeling like hours nothing happens.

But then the beast stops banging on the door and looks to his side. A little cymbal monkey waddles in emitting a strange blue light.

It stops a little ways away from the mutant.

You lean against the rail squinting to get a better look.

It goes in to bang it cymbals together.

The explosion caught you off guard but Sevika was quick on her feet pushing both you and Silco out of the way but unfortunately she lost her arm and you couldn't feel your legs from the knee down. (sponge bob guy "MY LEGS")

You landed next to Sevika barely awake enough to hear Silco say kill them. Then you black out.

-----------

You wake up to rain falling on your face and the high pitched cries of a child.

"She left me.... She is not my sister anymore." You open your eyes to see little power clinging onto Silco and Vander's body a few feet away.

"Not as loyal as I thought i guess." You croak out causing the person that was holding you to hmm in agreement.

Silco goes to hug the girl while muttering, "Its okay. We'll show them. We will show them all."

And with that little Powder joined the nation of Zaun and your life.

-----------------------

Hope you like it(￣∇￣)

Ok since u guys wanted me to write it, here you go

•You probably know him or work for him, but lets just say you work for him ;)

• Working for him is stressful, but you still manage. If you are new, silco would tell you to do small things (like to give him a drink, or to help him with some files) and over time, he would trust you more to do tasks for him

• Sevika too, she'll not like you at first ( and make you clean the bar) but overtime you'll get to know her more. (As for jinx too)

• You would start to notice how protective silco is of you. He would send Sevika to a random men who keeps making you uncomfortable. You will also start to notice more of his soft side

• He would ask you about your day, and how it was

• (You know things like that)

• HE WOULD HOLD YOUR HAND IF YOUR CLOSE TO HIM

• Just imagine, In a meeting were you were dragged to go there, because Sevika already knows of your crush on her boss, and you would be standing beside him, and while he is talking, you feel him getting closer to youuu

•

•

•

Ok i need to do homework soo, part 2?

I swear im SO close on making a fanfiction out of this guy

Idk if u guys will agree with me but I feel like Silco is simultaneously very straight and very gay but couldn't be further from giving off bisexual vibes. He occupies two opposite ends of the spectrum but avoiding the middle completely.

"Loyalty"

Silcoxf!reader (3k words) - part 1 (part 2 will arrive next week, hopefully)

⚠️ Warnings: mention of blood, cussing and killing, elements of smut

Set during Finn's death scene in Silco's office (episode 1x09, The Monster you created)

Please read the end notes, I have added some picture as references for the rifle

Enjoy the reading 🌟

The feeling of soft silk sheets is the first thing you feel on your bare skin as you slowly open your eyes to greet a new morning. Or afternoon, judging from the hour on the clock on your bedside as you turn the head. You have slept again too much, and the most important part of the day is gone. Might as well just return to sleep and spend the rest of the day sinking in the reddish sheets of his bed. The softness of the pillow embraces your face and covers your sleepy breathing, as you brain activates slowly, still in a dreaming state.

Covering your head with your hands, you try to shield your eyes from the light that comes from the window right in front of you. A hint of sun designs a straight line which ends right into your face, giving you that comforting feel of cuddling heat but blurring your sight at the same time. Letting out a soft sleepy groan, you sit down and uncovered yourself, only to find your naked body hit by the cold air of the room and shivers spreading all over your chest and back.

That is enough reasonable - you think - to return to bed immediately, under the secure covers, fragrant with his body perfume, a mist of tobacco, something strong similar to whisky and a hint of sandalwood. The familiar smell embraces your nose and your senses, immediately relaxing your back and shoulders, while spreading in your lungs.

The red silk is covering your body and hiding from you the sight of your chest and limbs. But anyway, you know that your body is covered in traces left from the past hours, late at night when you and Silco had left yourselves indulge in primal and lascivious actions. Instincts had roamed free, without any type of shame or regret and your sore back and legs are the proofs of what had happened in that bed last night. The feeling of his big hand on your tight, keeping it down and spread open while, without breaking the eye contact, he was tasting you with a primal need and a dedication that made your legs trembling many times, following his finger’s movement inside you and his palm’s, rubbing your clitoris faster and faster until…

“Stop, for Jenna’s sake…I have to contain myself…I can’t think about it as the first thing in the morning” you think to yourself.

Deciding that you are making a fool of yourself, and it is enough, you decide to get out of the bed, even though the chilly air is still there, and your naked back is not so happy about it, sending shivers down your spine. The feel of your bare foot on the ground is the decisive action that brings you fully back on track and your program for the day appears crystal clear in your mind.

But, how fool of you to think that the memory of his body pressed so hard against yours is something that you can discharge that simply. Just a glimpse of your naked body in the vertical mirror near the wardrobe snaps you back to your lustful memories, but this time they hit harder than the first.

Naked skin touching naked skin. The sound of his thrusting inside you from behind and of his low tense belly against your bottom. His firm hand on your hip while the other one kept you neck high, forcing you to look at the two bodies in the mirror. The sounds of you own pleasure filling the room, while the light of some candles was trembling due to the little air that infiltrated though the window. The blurring of your vision underneath your semi-closed and rolled eyes, your mind in a state of ecstasy and guided by the immense pleasure of his movements. The clenching of his teeth on your shoulders and neck while his member was going in and out, trusting harder each time. The soft whispering behind your ear as he touched your clitoris while still being inside…

“You like that, ah? You little slut…admiring you in such a submissive state is something that I find myself eager to see every day. Grant me the honour to fill that pretty hole of yours, sweetheart”, said with a languish and sarcastic tone.

"For fuck’s sake, woman, get a hold on yourself!” you think to yourself, after covering your face with your hands, in order not to see in the mirror the hot redness that has spread all over your cheeks, flushing them hard. Taking the first piece of clothing that was at your sight, you put it on, just to discover it was Silco’s black shirt from last night, thrown on the floor without a care in the world.

Luck is definitely not on your side today, with the smell, all over the shirt, of his body and a hint of sex – your mind still playing jokes on your memories and senses. Not that it is the only cloth in that state. Other items are scattered all over the room: your pants are set on the chair, and you remember the exact moment they went undone and the gaze of Silco’s two-tone eyes as he set them on your panties. With a quick search, you find the latest too, on top of his nightstand, set beside a glass of water with a little note attached.

Hope you have slept well. Lots of meetings today but I should be free for dinner. I’ll wait for you at 20.00 in my office. Use the back exit. – S

The short note is enough to bring a big smile on your face and make you giggle like a little girl. The soft and well cured handwriting of Silco doesn’t let anything out and his instructions are clear. After an intense day of meetings and duties, you company at dinner is one of the few things that Silco indulges into and finds himself waiting to attend to. Evenings and nights, lustful or not, are your favourite part of the day, even though they have become less frequent in the last period because of the numerous tedious problems Silco has to resolve.

Hope you have slept well – you read the first few words a couple of times with a soft giggle and a tender heat in your heart. Silco is not a person that shows his feelings so openly with a lot of people and the rare moments in which he lets himself relax and indulges in feelings are very precious. His face seems to acquire a completely different expression, his tough traits become more tender and his eyes shine with a new light, even the deep orange one.

Silco is more used to let out his affection though actions and not direct words, so the interactions in bed, late at night, when the two of you are still awake are pearls to preserve in your memory. You got used to the feeling of his hand on your low back as he guides you while the two of you are walking, or the thumb that traces circles on your hand while you are reading or resting in bed with him in the evening. Not that these moments are something you would reject or discard, they are still so precious in your heart and every time they let free little butterflies in your stomach, but the quiet moments where he lets his guard down, also just for a little bit, make you feel special and one of the few privileged ones to see his true self.

The feeling of your face on his bare chest, while it goes up and down with a steady rhythm, and soft words escaping from his lips, praising you, while one hand is playing with your hair, relaxing both you and him at the same time.

“When I find myself laying here with you, my love, it seems like the world pause just for a couple of seconds and that’s what I need to keep going”

“I would certain be uncertain with what I would have done if it wasn’t for you presence, sweetheart”

“Don’t worry, love, I won’t go away, I am all yours tonight”

Again, letting butterflies forming in your belly as you think of his soft and loving tone escaping from his lips, a big smile covers your face from one side to another. The instructions on the little note are clear and they give you freedom for the rest couple of hours – it would be a good idea to go home to take some spare clothes for the night and the next day. Taking the panties from his nightstand to put them on, you look around to search for the rest of the clothes, only to find your bra tucked under one of the pillows and your shirt under the bed. While bending to reach it, your eyes glance over the rifle near your nightstand, one of the latest works of Jinx. It was taken from an enforcer, an ‘accidental’ victim of Silco’s attacks of the last period – it is a long but manageable weapon, with a steady rear grip and slim barrel, designed to shoot at long distances but also terribly good at short ones, as you have experienced the rifle’s butt to be a perfect club if needed. The weapon comes in a black colour out of stock, but it is currently decorated with some bright pink and neon blue lines that show its long body, thanks to the hands of Jinx, who was so considerate to also add some optical lenses on the top to help with the aiming. It is one of your most beloved objects and you feel safe just by its presence – also, the commitment of the little girl on it is something that warms your heart every time. Taking the rifle in your hands you notice the signature of a little monkey on the central body, typical of Jinx, this one painted in bright green to show it off.

A tender smile appears on your face as you inspect the arm to see how many bullets are still in the barrel shroud when, all of a sudden, you hear the familiar sound of Silco’s office door and footsteps of someone entering the room. You let the rifle near the door and search once again for your clothes, to be at least a bit presentable in front of the Eye of Zaun, not in a state that tells ‘I actually just got out of bed simply because I had nothing better to do.’ You just want to quickly give him a loving greeting and then go home for a bit, but you have just turned the nob of the bedroom’s door, when the office one is thrown open again, this time with a louder sound and other figures enter the room.

‘I’m busy’ Silco says with an annoyed voice.

After that, you hear the sound of someone’s body plopping on a chair, probably the one in front of the desk, and then a moment of silence. The voice of a certain person that you hate with all of your heart fills the room, setting a tense atmosphere that you can fell through the door.

‘When you took out Vander, - Finn starts saying – I thought, now here’s the man who understands how to run an enterprise. The attitude, the instinct, the eye… the whole package you were – always two steps ahead. But time’s loved you, old man’.

Cold blood starts to flow through your veins at his words, a clear provocation, but you decide anyway to slightly push the door to peek and see the situation for yourself. Silco is seated on his chair, with a glass of what you suppose is his usual whisky in his hand, scanning the room and looking at Finn with a reclined head, glancing in a menacing way in his direction.

‘You with him, are you?’ the rhetorical question of Silco completely ignores Finn and is directed to a person behind him, but they are covered by the bedroom’s door and out of your sight.

‘You screwed up, Silco’ – you know this voice, Renni, one of the chem-barons, not someone to underestimate.

Silco finishes his drink in one sip and sets the empty glass on the desk with a loud thud, before starting speaking with a calm but judging tone.

‘You are too young to remember what the undercity was before it became an enterprise… we had nothing. You know what bore us through those times? Loyalty. Brothers and sisters back-to-back against whatever the world threw at us. Now, I’m forced to share the air with parasites like you, who leech of their legacies’

Finn’s face is just partially visible to you, you are looking at his back mostly, but you can imagine his annoyed and bored expression facing Silco, not grasping a minimal hint from his words. Sevika, on the other hand, in clearly visible to you, standing behind Silco, a strange look on her face like she is battling with something inside her, eyes fixed on a random spot of the desk, lost in her thoughts but paying attention at the atmosphere at the same time.

An intense and cold shiver runs from your neck to the end of your back, travelling thought the spine as you sense that something is terribly wrong with the situation - Silco being so calm but pissed at the same time, Sevika giving mixed signals and Finn being the unpredictable asshole he always is. Without wasting a moment after this realization, you reach for the rifle making the lightest movements as possible to conceal your presence – the weight of the weapon in your hand and on the right shoulder gives you a moment of relief as you prepare yourself near the door, the tip of the barrel just slightly out of the door’s frame.

Situations of distress and danger are common in Zaun, you have never lived an entire day without the strange subtle feeling of constant notice of the surroundings, to catch potential threats, but this is different. Here is Silco the one that finds himself in an uncomfortable and dangerous position – Sevika is battling something inside her and doesn’t seem her usual self, always so strong, so decisive.

 ‘She is with them’

The thought strikes your brain as you are scrutinizing her through the lenses on the rifle – ‘No, impossible, Sevika has always been his right shoulder, his helper, his loyal guard… she would never…’ but a slight reflex of light on something interrupts your trail of thoughts.

Sevika is slowly taking out her sword from her mechanical arm, now covered with a red poncho – the sunlight had hit the weapon, sending its reflex to your direction, revealing her intensions to you.

‘She is going to do that… Sevika is going to kill him for real’

You were going to lose everything… Silco, Jinx, your life and the things you have built in the last months with him… no more kisses, no more soft whispered words at night, no unconscious movements in the night to embrace you in his arms while you are sleeping – nothing. But you are not so prone to lose everything like this, to some stupid and rebellious plan of some insignificant insect like Finn. A new feel grows in your heart, hotter this time, which starts from your low belly – a sense of danger but also of anger at the same time. You do not agree with the decision that those people in the room had taken and you want to change the planned ending of it.

Aiming directly at Sevika’s face, you adjust your position, slightly parting your leg to give you a more stable position, one eye closed to aim better and not miss the shot. The little green monkey is laughing at you from the rifle’s surface and a light smile appears on your face despite the situation because you can fell in the weapon and in you the strength of Jinx.

Looking back at the room, a vision strikes your heart, which starts pumping blood quickly in your body, making your head pulsing from tension.

‘Today is the day you die, Silco’ – Finn spits.

Sevika rises her drawn sword behind Silco, her red poncho opening like a swing and covering the back of Silco – a wild eagle ready to kill her pray from above.

‘That’s a risk I’ve known all my life… but I still believe in loyalty’

The exact moment in which Silco enounces the last word, the sharp blade of Sevika strikes down and you shoot. The familiar recoil of the rifle hits your shoulder, and a shocked and hurt expression appears on Sevika’s face, as your bullet hits her mechanical arm and not her face, the bullet’s trajectory changed by her sudden movement. Liquid shimmer starts to spill from the hole left by the shot and the woman looks in your direction, intercepting the rifle’s tip and locking her eyes with yours. Your face tells anger, delusion, and fear all together, but when you open the door, revealing yourself, what appears in front of you is completely different from what your heart was suffering for.

Finn is holding his throat, suffocated moans escaping from it, while blood spills from his neck, hands trying to stop the red flowing.

Silco is resting his head on one hand, heavy breathing for a moment that let intend his surprise and fear of what could have happened. But it lasts just for a couple of seconds before his two-coloured gaze sets again on Renni, the furious orange and black eye saying that there will be consequences for this.

‘I would have your son killed for this, though I suppose we are ahead on that account’ he says.

Renni doesn’t even bother to look in your direction, too focused on her failed plan and the urgent need to get out of the room as soon as possible – with trembling legs and an uncoordinated little run, she rushes out of the office, leaving a hurt Sevika, Silco and you alone.

You look at Silco, who has his eye fixed on the desk, still processing what has just happened before moving his head towards you. Eyes locking with eyes, emotions and feelings colliding, hearts pumping and sending signals to brains - his blue eye locks on yours, eyebrows raise with a surprised expression while he acknowledge your presence in the room. What strikes him is your position - legs open for stabilization, rifle still in position on your shoulder, aiming at Sevika while looking at him with intense eyes, a veil blurring your vision, anticipating tears of worries.

A soft oh escapes Silco's mouth - he parts his lips to say something but is interrupted by a shout

“WHAT THE FUCK! YOU SHOT ME! ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME!?” - Sevika retreats her sword and spits her words coming near you

“Oh, for Jenna! I am sorry Sevika, I am sorry… I thought you were…were… I mean, I know you would have never but…I mean…”

“I DON'T GIVE A FUCK ABOUT IT! YOU SHOT ME AND YOU WERE AIMING FOR THE FACE! ARE YOU OUT OF YOUR GODDAM MIND!?” Sevika arrives in front of you with heavy steps, eyes filled with range and fury, while holding the injured arm, stopping the shimmer from pouring all over the carpet.

“DON'T YOU DARE FUCKING SHOUT AT ME SEVIKA! I WAS PROTECTING HIM! YOU SHOULD HAVE BEEN MORE CLEAR, NOT RISING YOUR FRICKING SWORD IN THAT WAY!”

“DON'T TELL ME WHAT TO DO!”

Sevika and you are shouting in the middle of the office, right in front of Flinn's dead body, still on the chair, while his blood is clotting on his vest. Sevika is furious, her eyes are burning with hot flames coming straight from her soul.

“Did you really think I would have done something like that to him?! How can you be so stupid, for fuck’s sake”

“I…I'm sorry, but you should have seen your face, Sevika, I am sorry…”

“So, you think you can actually read my goddamn mind with just a simple glance at my face. What are you, a fucking psychic?”

You open your mouth to respond, offended by the woman's words and tone, but a soft paternalistic voice cuts you out.

“Children, quit it, arguing won't clean my office from this incompetent's dead body. Sevika, dispose of him. You stay, - and his eyes sets upon you - we need to have a little chat”

Sevika grunts in your face, fury still surrounding her, before silently carrying Finn’s body on one of her shoulders and out of the room. Once the door is closed behind her, Silco gets up to lock the door - a big red stain can be seen on the chair and little purple lines traces the previous movements of Sevika and her arm.

“I am sorry Silco. I thought you were going towards some serious trouble… I couldn't stand the idea of… I don't know… seeing you injured… or, worse, seeing you de…”

“Shut up” - his words cut your voice. “Sit down” Silco says, pointing his finger in his chair’s direction. His tone is demanding and doesn’t leave any possibility of reply – you proceed to sit on his tall chair, right in front of the greenish window, as Silco positions himself between you and the desk, leaning on the desk. His gaze is pointing, puzzling, set on your face, emotions blocked by his strong self-control.

“Do you understand what you were about to perform? Can you grasp what the consequences of your actions would have been? Shooting Sevika is not something that I would be so eager to experience in my office. Let’s hear what you have to say”

“I was getting ready to go home, before returning for dinner, when I heard some noises and saw what was going on. I relied on my instincts, and I grabbed the rifle – I hold the position but when I saw Sevika, I couldn’t hold myself… I misunderstood the situation… I thought you were in trouble…Silco I…”

“Instincts can be deceiving, sweetheart, and bring us on the wrong path. Allow me to explain the importance of self-control” – Silco stands up from the desk and approach you with a subtle smirk on his face. You tilt you head up to meet his eyes and give him a confused look, not understanding what is happening. Silco looks down and invites you to follow his gaze – still puzzled, you do so just to encounter his crotch right in front of your eyes. There is indeed a bulge forming in his pants.

“You see, sweetheart, what you cause me, appearing in my office with a rifle and nothing but my shirt and little panties on, just to ensure I was all right? I would bend you over right away to give you the punishment you merit for an action like that, making you cry until you come all over my desk, but I am controlling myself because I have something else in mind for you tonight.” – after his words, you actually become aware of you situation – seated on his chair, wearing just his black shirt and underwear, leaving nothing to the imagination while the smell of blood still hovers in the air. But the adrenaline of before still flows in your veins, greedy to find a way out of your body.

“Your self-control is impeccable as always, Sil, but I find myself rather drawn by your proposal of a punishment. I think you own me one, given my out-of-mind actions of before” – you say, imitating his vocal cadence.

“I normally would punish you in another way, but the sight of you all pretty seated on my chair is not something I want to waste today. Let’s say that you can start by taking it in your mouth, then we will see how to proceed”.

A smirk appears on his face, a lascivious blue eye set on your body, semi-exposed by the large shirt – looking at his expression, you find yourself impatience to discover your punishment.

Hi guysss! Hope you have enjoyed the story so far 😊

I leave you here the rifle's picture - it is the same as Caytlin's (love her weapon) but in the story it is a little modified by Jinx.

"Loyalty"

Silco×f!reader - Preview

Hi guys! 🌸

I am currently writing a two part fanfiction because I need to satisfy my monthly writing craving, and Silco is always the first choice obv. The story is set during the scene of Finn's death in Silco's office - the first part goes easy peasy, but I am planning to make the second one a smut.

I want to give you a little peak of the story, stay tuned 🩵

‘She is going to do that… Sevika is going to kill him for real’

You were going to lose everything… Silco, Jinx, your life and the things you have built in the last months with him… no more kisses, no more soft whispered words at night, no unconscious movements in the night to embrace you in his arms while you are sleeping – nothing.

But you are not so prone to lose everything like this, to some stupid and rebellious plan of some insignificant insect like Finn. A new feel grows in your heart, hotter this time, which starts from your low belly – a sense of danger but also of anger at the same time. You do not agree with the decision that those people in the room had taken and you want to change the planned ending of it.

Aiming directly at Sevika’s face, you adjust your position, slightly parting your legs to give you a more stable position, one eye closed to aim better and not miss the shot. The little green monkey is laughing at you from the rifle’s surface and a light smile appears on your face despite the situation because you can fell in the weapon and in you the strength of Jinx.

Looking back at the room, a vision strikes your heart, which starts pumping blood quickly in your body, making your head pulsing from tension.

‘Today is the day you die, Silco’ – Finn spits.

"A needed Relief "

Silcoxf!reader oneshot

Warnings: smut (MDNI), 18+, sex scenes, consensual sex, established relationship.

Summary: After a shitty day and a failed experiment, Silco returns to his office to find a way to release his tension.

3k words

Silco's Pov

Shit, shit, shit. Just mere shit.

That is how Silco would have described the day that's just passed. Nothing went accordingly to the plan and the results left him with a bunch of dead bodies and more problems. The security check of the newest invention of Singed was supposed to go smoothly, the doctor did say to him that the new creature would have been mentally stable, not like the last time. As soon as the beast was released from its cage, it attacked the two guards around the doctor, killing them almost instantly and went straight to Silco. The minimal brutal force of the beast was enough to throw the man on the other side of the room, causing his back to collide with the solid rock wall. The air left his lungs after the impact, his good eye went black for a few seconds and his eyesight was totally compromised.

Silco was used to violence and finding himself in difficult situations has always been part of the routine, since he worked as a miner. His body reacted with automatic and calculated moves, grabbing the gun tied to his thigh and firing at the creature. The bullet went right trought its left eye, but the monster did stop for just a fraction of second before continuing his charge against the man. Silco grabbed the knife as a final decision, if he was going down, he wouldn't have gone without a fight. Moments before the impact, a flash passed before his eyes and an hurting memory was enough to take his feet off the floor and attack the creature with an enormous adrenaline rush. The memory was something distant but beared in his mind in an indelible way, like a large scar inside his heart. Two pair of hands suffocating him, keeping his head under velenous waters, which were already eating alive his damaged left eye. The sight of a friend's face, once so close and so brotherly loved, now transformed into something horrendous and atrocious.

The rush of adrenaline caused by the hurtful memory was the last thing needed by the man to assault the beast with the knife in one hand and the gun in the other, with a scream that contained all his hate and a primal attachment to life, Silco jumped.

The landing was unexpected, given the fact that the man found himself on the floor on the other side of the room. Looking at his left, a surprising yet appreciated vision caused a little satisfied smile to form on his face, glad to see his second in charge doing her job. "And in a wonderful way", he thought.

Sevika was on the beast and her mechanical arm was buzzing, busy with the amputation of the monster's head.

"Thank Janna, she was there..." thought Silco, before turning to Singed.

While in the background some horrendous noises were still going on, Silco kneeled down at the same level of the doctor.

"Next time, make its goddam brain at least a bit normal and manageable... or you'll end up as that mass of shimmer and shit". Singed turned his head to see Sevika, busy getting the violaceus blood off her arm. With a grin, the woman looked at the doctor and pointed her knife at him.

"Let's return to the Last Drop, Sevika. We'll see each other the next week, doctor, and I'll be waiting for better results". Slamming the door behind her, Sevika and Silco left the place.

-------------------------------------------------------

Finding himself outside his office, the man esitates a bit before opening the door, hearing some noise inside the room. Silco grabs the gun with his free hand one more time today, rethinking his life choices for once. With a big sigh, the man opens the door with a kick and points the gun ahead of him, moving his head from left to right to find the intruder.

And then, behind his desk, enlightened by the big greenish window on one side of the room, the chair turns to reveal a sight that immediately relaxes his sore shoulders and makes him drop his arms.

"Hi, why are you here?" Silco says with a tired voice, letting the gun down.

Silco leaves the spot at the door to go near the figure and, as he approach, his lungs fills with her perfume, causing his body to relax as he set his eyes on the girl sitting on the chair. He cannot resist but think how his life has changed since the two of you encountered during his research for the creation of shimmer. Singed was definitely the main author of the project and the drug, but also her contribution had been essential in the creation of the empire of Zaun.

Silco's nights were not anymore hours of interminable pain and regret, or planification for the next attack, the next drug deal, the next money exchange. During the nights in which he let himslef rest for more than a few hours, her company was like fresh air compared to the filthy and toxic one of Zaun. She was his rock, his safe harbour were he could let himself being vulnerable, even though Silco was not used to let himself go off completely, being always alert of every possible problem and danger.

"Is that the way to say that you have missed me, for not having seen me in days?" The girl say with a frown on her face and a slightly hirritated tone. "Thank you so much, Sil".

Hearing her tone and the nickname, a bit of guilt starts to hug the man's heart and with a sigh he places his arms around her chest, leaving the gun on the desk and resting his face in between her head and shoulder.

"Sorry, darling, my day was shitty as hell, and I am not in a good mood. But I am sorry for the way I talked to you." Silco was still learning to control his anger and was trying not to target it against his loved one, being her not responsible for any of his trouble. It was just the hard work of every day and the lack of sleep, probably. "How was your day? Better than mine indeed" says the man, plopping himself on the couch, finding a comfortable position for his sore back.

"Mhhh, I didn't do much today, rest day. But I helped the little Jinx with her project. She goes around and paints everything that comes in her sight. Look what she did for you!" the girl says, handing over to him his ashtray, now coloured in bright pink with blue lines.

"Looks good, darling. Come here, sit with me, please. " Doing as he asks, the obedient girl sits herself near him on the old couch of the office, letting one arm resting on her legs, while with the other one, she starts strocking his hair. "I am so grateful when you help me with the little one, a hand is always useful and I am trying to be the best for her and to teach her the way of the world, but it is not always so easy. This world is a cruel place, and if she doesn't understand her place and gains power, she'll be devoured by the city itself. The meeting today with Singed was shit and everything went wrong. I have to find a solution if the old man doesn't find one." Silco speaks with a low groan in his voice, letting his hand rest on his forehead, sensing the approaching headache that will keep him up all night.

Thanks Janna, there was Sevika saving my ass, but it was something he would never admit to anyone.

"I am sorry, Sil. Do you want me to alleviate the pain a bit?" The girl says, lifting a bit up her figure from the couch. "You know my methods always works with you".

Being in a relatively long relationship, Silco knows what the girl is up to and the mischievous look in her eyes can mean just one thing. Anchoring his multicolored eyes to her face and watching deeply into hers, Silco answers:

"Daddy would be so proud if the little darling would help with the pain"

Without esitation, the girl lifts herself from the couch, sitting right into his lap, legs spread apart and hands on his chest to let an illusion of space between them. Silco is not surprised by the sudden action, his growing desire starts to burn into his chest and without any hesitation, one of his hands goes to rest on the lower back of the girl, while the other one goes for her hair, strocking gently the back of her head.

"Nice initiative, darling. What are you gonna do now that you find yourself in this position?" Silco wasn't so acquainted with being submissive, and the position he was in wasn't helping his frustration and will to have control over something, having just experienced a very shitty day. "I'll let you have five minutes of control, little one, just 'cause I feel generous today. Do your best with the time I give you".

The girl doesn't wait another second and starts to kiss Silco. The encounter of his mouth with hers is the final need of the man before letting it all go, allowing the relax to enter his body and with a deep sigh, he finally feels safe, with tha arms of his darling all around him. The taste of her lips is like liquid honey to him, something one would like to taste all day and all night, but the empire of Zaun won't be build in just one day and the city needs to be guarded and guided by the man. A little sense of what can be similar to sadness starts to arise from his chest, sensing some guilt for the numerous nights in which Silco must work and isn't able to fulfill his duty of boyfriend. The eternal sleepless nights, lived behind piles of papers and letters, while the girl sleeps alone in his bed, is something that hunts him in moments like that, when he can relax.

But Silco is not used to let such emotions take control of his heart, mind and body and the reaction is not late to arrive.

Wanting more from the simple kisses he is giving to her, Silco opens his mouth to let his toungue explore the insides of her mounth, without wasting time asking for the permission. The simple and intimate atmosphere of before suddenly changes and a new wave of heat flows into his body, starting from a much lower place than the chest, this time.

With the new sudden need for more contact, Silco finds a more confortable position on the couch and lets his body get in contact with the one of her, deleting all of the left space between them. The sudden contact of the centre of her spread legs with his crotch, makes him leave out a rough sigh, wanting more than just a simple contact. Without stopping from kissing her, Silco lifts the girl's shirt up, reveling her bare chest without any type of support. Interrupting the kiss just to admire what was already his, throwing her shirt on the floor, the man says:

"Your time is up darling, now Daddy decided what to do with you".

"As you want, Sil. You know I am yours." the girl responds.

Silco doesn't waste any more time and, taking off his shirt, he breaks again the distance between their bodies, melting into the feel of her body's heat against his bare chest. After that, another session of passionate kisses starts and the urging need growing in his pants becomes every minute more and more demanding. He cannot resist to her touch, he cannot resist to her body, he cannot resist to her soul. Silco arises his legs and meets the intimate part of the girl, wanting to provoke her and release a bit of his frustation at the same time. Her reaction his repentine and as soon as he comes in contact with her, the girl starts to mimic his movements, a wetness spreading onto her underwear.

"Sil, please... I can't resist for long". Silco understand the urge of the girl and with a smirk on his face, suddenly the man gets up and, lifting his loved one, goes to the other room. The bedroom is clean, tied up and doesn't seem to be used very much. Silco was using the room as a spare storage for the Last Drop, but things changed once the relationship started to become more serious, and he transformed the room into a bedroom for the girl, if ever she wanted to sleep there.

With one feet, the man opens the door and lays down the girl on the bed, big enough for the both of them. Silco senses the urging need in his pants, so, without waste of time, unbottoms his pants and throws them on the floor, before starting to undress the girl. After having taken her pants and underwear, the vision of her naked body on the bed is something that Silco has missed so much since the last time they have seen each other. Every curve of her body is in the right place, he knows every mark, every scar, every mole on that sweet and delicate skin.

"I have missed this, darling. Remind me to fuck you more often, please". Laughing at his words, the girl opens her arms to embrace him into an intimate hug, resulting in both of them on the bed. Silco embraces her into the hug and kisses her on the cheek, but for just one second before the contact of his lenght encounters her wet spot, sending a rush trought his nervous system.

"Now, let me fuck you, pretty one"

Aligning his tip with her entrance, Silco lets himself inside with a low groan, sending shivers through his spine and a hot pleasure spreads from his member. Feeling her wet, hot spot and the tight pressure on his lenght is something that drives him crazy and, bending down, he bites the girl's shoulder, leaving a visible red mark.

"Now, you are mine"

Starting with a slow piece, the man rises in order to have a complete vision of the mess his lovers is, with her hair spread all over the pillow and a redness on her face that makes her even more beautiful, ready to give all of her to the man. Ready to fulfill all of his desires. Speeding up the peace of his movements, the struggle of Silco starts to rise, looking down at his pleased darling and seeing her in such a position.

"Daddy will make you cum, little one. Don't worry, I got you"

Letting the girl moan in pleasure, Silco trusts himself into her one last time, before exiting without any warning, leaving the girl into a struggling position. Everything in the body of the man is screaming, every bone wants more, every cell wants to let out and his trobbing member reminds him of his pressing needs.

"On top now, darling" , asks the man with a demanding tone.

The girl leaves out a sigh and changes position, finding herself on the top of Silco. Admiring her from above is one of his favourite activities, but the sight of her on top of him is even better. Despite being under, Silco knows he still has the control in the situation and, with one hand on her back and the other one guiding his length, he enters just one more time. The wetness of her insides is enough to let him almost arrive at the end, but with a strong will, Silco imposes to himself and his instincts to let her cum first, being the gentleman that he is.

With a fast pace, Silco starts thrusting into her with his full length, reaching the soft spot at the top of her insides. The girl aches and the sensation given by the sudden change in her position doesn't help Silco with his mission. Feeling her wetness and tightness around him, he thrusts again, lifting his hips from the bed. One, two, three times, while the girl follows his movements.

"Sil, fuck, I cannot resist much more"

"Cum for me, darling, please" asks Silco with the little voice he can retrieve from all the moaning that was going on.

"Fuck, I am gonna cum..." the girl quickens her pace and movements of up and down, back and forth, allowing Silco to feel the rubbing of her clitoris against his lower belly. With a low moan and trembling legs, the girl orgasms and her walls reduce the already small distance with his member, causing an involontary spasm from the man.

"Little one" says Silco with a very demanding voice "resists a bit more, I cannot let you rest now" and, withous waiting for her reply, Silco grabs her hips and thrusts his waist even harder than before inside her, causing the girl to arch again. Every fibre of the man is screaming in pleasure and his throbbing member guides his mind, hastening the pace and drowning into the vision of his darling in such a position.

Feeling a growing urge arising from his lower parts, Silco lifts himself up and creates again a contact between their bodies. At the slightly touch of his chest with her bare breasts and her arms around his body, Silco cums with a low grown, sinking his hands into her hips, feeling his liquid building up and releasing inside of her.

Reducing his movements, Silco lets himself drown in the pillow, while with one hand guides the girl towards his chest, silently asking for contact, once more. Without taking his still pulsing member off, Silco feels the girl laying herself on his chest, while their irregular breathings try to find a shared rhythm.

Everything is peace now, the problems and struggles of the day seems to be something so far away in Silco's mind. The weight of his lover on the chest is a calming sensation, a feeling that the man knows to be a rare treasure he must protect with all of his strength. He is ready to do anything to protect what is under his legacy.

Releasing a sign of relief, gently strocking her hair, the man finally finds peace and, letting himself out and spooning her from behind, Silco falls asleep for once.

-------------------------------------------------------

A/N: I am trying to work on my multi-part fic's, now that I'm mostly caught up with all my requests. I missed writing for Silcooooooo.

Loyalty Cuts Deepest pt.2

Silco x Fem!Reader

pt.1

Warnings: Violence/Combat, Trauma, Imprisonment/Restraint, Explosions/Fire, and Death

Word Count: 5894

Summary: (Y/N) is led through Silco’s factory- alive with shimmer, but hollow with grief. Silco remains tender, pretending nothing’s changed, even as he parades Vander, weak and broken, as a symbol of failed ideals. When Silco offers Vander shimmer in exchange for loyalty, Vander refuses, desperate to protect the children. In a private chamber, (Y/N) finally breaks, confessing she searched for Silco for years. Their reunion is intimate but laced with sorrow. When Vi and the others storm the factory, everything spirals. Silco unleashes his shimmer-mutated monster, and (Y/N), bound by enchanted chains, is forced to watch the chaos unfold. Powder’s bomb kills Mylo and Claggor, devastating (Y/N), who Silco tries- and fails- to console. Vander ends saving Vi, transformed by shimmer into a final act of defiance. Afterward, (Y/N) and Silco find Powder, shattered. (Y/N) cradles her and later, she claims the name “Jinx,” offering unconditional love. Back at The Last Drop, (Y/N) remains shackled but tenderly cares for Jinx. Silco releases her chains, but (Y/N) doesn’t retaliate. Her only focus is Jinx- her “little firecracker”- the last thing worth protecting.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The factory loomed like a carcass on the edge of the Undercity- cold, rusted steel and flickering lights illuminating a world that wasn’t quite dead.

It should’ve been abandoned.

It wasn’t.

Inside, the place was alive with movement- gears turning, people working, machines thundering deep within the structure’s bones. And all of it was for him.

Silco.

He kept his hand wrapped gently around (Y/N)’s as he led her forward, step by step, like they were just walking home. Like none of this had changed.

But her eyes were fixed on the floor. On the trail of oil and soot and blood leading them deeper in.

Her mind buzzed like static- empty and deafening at once. Everything she thought she understood had collapsed in a matter of hours. Grief curled around the edges of her thoughts like smoke, choking out the edges of her reality.

Silco’s thumb brushed along the back of her hand, slow and deliberate. The same way he used to, late at night, when they lay in bed and the world was quiet.

It made her heart ache.

How could she still miss it?

How could that part of her still want to melt into his touch, even now?

“This place is a little crude, I’ll admit,” Silco said, his voice low as they crossed a metal walkway above the factory floor. “The base violence necessary for change... but we both know Topside won’t listen to anything else.”

She didn’t respond. Couldn’t.

Nearby, the man- creature- that had dragged Vander through the streets was deteriorating. No longer monstrous. Just sick. Slumped over the rail, vomiting some viscous, purple substance into the depths.

Another man approached, grabbing Vander roughly and throwing him against the side of the walkway with a clang.

(Y/N) flinched slightly, but Silco’s hand tightened gently around hers, guiding her to a stop.

Vander groaned, coughing, blood splattering the steel beneath him.

And for the first time, he looked up.

Straight at her.

Eyes full of pain- not from the injuries. From her.

(Y/N) didn’t return the look.

She was still watching Silco, eyes wide, almost in a trance, like she was trying to match the man before her to the boy she had once loved.

It wasn’t until Vander spoke that she snapped out of it- his voice ragged, cutting through the fog in her head.

“Even with your monsters,” he rasped, “You won’t win a war against Piltover.”

Silco exhaled a low hum. “I don’t have to. I just need to scare them.”

He turned slightly, reaching out to her again- fingers brushing softly behind her ear, tucking a stray strand of hair away like he used to.

“Piltover won’t dare set foot in the Underground again,” he murmured.

The former monster gagged and groaned again, the sludge he threw up hissing against metal.

Vander didn’t spare him a glance.

“You’ll get people killed,” Vander said, his voice heavy with grief and fury. “For what? Pride?”

Silco’s jaw tightened.

“For respect,” he snapped, turning fully now. “Opportunity. Everything they’ve denied us.”

He released (Y/N)’s hand finally and stepped forward, crouching down to Vander’s level. He stared at him like a blade about to be unsheathed.

Vander glared, breath ragged. “You had my respect. The Lanes’ respect. (Y/N)’s.” He nodded toward her. “But that was never enough for you.”

That struck something.

Silco’s calm shattered in an instant as he stood, pacing a step back with fury rising behind his eyes.

“We shared a vision, Vander. All of us.” His voice rose. “A dream of freedom. Not just for the Lanes, but for the entire Underground. United. One people.”

He turned to (Y/N) then- voice softer, filled with weight.

“The nation of Zaun.”

Then back to Vander, venom lacing each word.

“Do you even remember? I trusted you… and you betrayed me.”

(Y/N)’s eyes finally took in all of him- his ruined cheek, his sunken features, the warped skin trailing from his jaw to the edge of his glowing eye.

The scar where the toxic water had seeped into his skin.

The proof of how far he’d been willing to go.

And how much further he’d fallen to crawl back.

Vander’s breath rattled in his chest as he leaned against the steel railing, blood still wet on his lips. The anger in his eyes had softened into something heavier- regret, shame.

“…What I did to you,” he said, voice low, almost too quiet to hear, “I’ve never forgiven myself.”

He looked up at Silco- truly looked at him.

“You were my brother.”

Silco didn’t respond right away. He stared down at him for a long moment before his gaze slid toward (Y/N), and the edges of his expression flickered with something harder to name.

“No,” he murmured. “You still don’t understand.”

He turned to them both now- his voice rising slightly, almost reverent, almost haunted.

“Can you imagine what it’s like… when your blood mixes with the filth? When the river toxins eat through your nerves, strip away everything soft, everything human?”

He stepped closer to Vander again, looming now, his voice low and trembling- not with weakness, but with conviction.

“Oh, I hated you for what you’d done. Every breath I clawed in was filled with hate. But hate burns fast. And when it fades, it leaves room… for understanding.”

His eyes bore into Vander.

“The only way to defeat a superior enemy… is to stop at nothing. To become what they fear.”

He tilted his head.

“I hated you, Vander. But I still respected you. Until you made peace with them. Until you played lapdog to the people who tried to crush us. After everything we suffered.”

Vander’s jaw clenched, but his voice was tired. “I had no choice.”

“Perhaps,” Silco echoed with a hum. “But now… now you do.”

He reached into his coat, retrieving a small vial- glass, delicate, and filled with a swirling, violet liquid that shimmered even in the dim light.

He knelt again, holding it out between them so both Vander and (Y/N) could see.

“Shimmer.” His voice was soft, full of dark promise. “This is power. This is what they fear.”

He glanced up at (Y/N), then down at Vander.

“We can finally realize our dream. Together... Brother.”

Vander looked from the vial… to Silco… and finally up at (Y/N).

She didn’t say a word. She couldn’t. Her heart beat hollow in her chest, her thoughts knotted beyond reason.

Vander’s eyes turned back to Silco.

“Look at what you’ve done,” he whispered. “Benzo. These kids…”

He shook his head slowly. “In fighting Topside… you’d sacrifice everything that we are. It’s not the way. Can’t you see that? If it has to be me, then fine. Kill me. But please… spare the Lanes.”

Silco’s eyes narrowed, sharp and burning.

“You’d die for the cause,” he spat, “but you won’t fight for one?”

Vander gave a breathy laugh, shaking his head. “I’m just… not that man anymore.”

Silco’s lips curled- not in amusement, but disappointment.

“I’ll show you what you really are,” he muttered.

Then, without another glance at his old friend, he turned and walked toward (Y/N) again.

Her breath caught when he reached for her. He took her hand gently- fingers warm, familiar, haunting... And like something out of a long-forgotten dream, he laced his fingers through hers and led her away down the walkway.

Past the shimmer.

Past the scars.

The room they entered was dim, lit only by flickering industrial lights high in the rafters, casting long shadows against the grimy walls. Vander grunted, still dazed but regaining strength, just in time to be dragged inside by two of Silco’s men. He struggled weakly, but they forced him into a heavy chair bolted to the floor.

Without a word, the men bound his wrists to the armrests with reinforced chains- tight, unforgiving.

(Y/N) watched it all.

She didn’t move.

She just… watched, her heart twisted in knots, as Vander met her gaze with something between understanding and heartbreak. She gave him one last lingering look- long, pained- but didn’t pull away when Silco’s hand gently guided her from the room.

He led her up a flight of grated stairs, each step echoing with the weight of history between them.

At the top of the factory was a room- an old office overlooking the chaos below. Large, reinforced windows gave a full view of the operation, of Vander strapped below, of the quiet power Silco now commanded.

Inside, it was just the two of them.

(Y/N) stood awkwardly at first, eyes scanning the space like she might find an anchor.

She didn’t.

Silco motioned to one of the chairs before his desk. “Sit.”

She did.

He pulled the other chair closer, sitting directly in front of her, his eyes searching her face. He didn’t speak. Not yet. Not while the silence still held its weight.

They sat like that for a while- just breathing, listening to the distant hum of machinery, the ghost of bloodshed still heavy on both of them.

Then (Y/N) spoke.

Her voice cracked.

“I… I looked for you…”

Silco’s jaw twitched.

“For years, I looked,” she whispered, broken and small. “I searched every body on the bridge. Dug through rumors. Lies. Begged for information… anything that would lead me to you.”

She inhaled sharply, her hands shaking.

And then- gently- she reached forward, taking his hand into hers, lifting it slowly, reverently, pressing his palm to her cheek.

As soon as she felt his skin on hers, she nearly sobbed.

Her breath hitched, her face crumpling with the weight of every year she’d spent missing him. She hadn’t let anyone this close since he vanished. Hadn’t let herself feel this deeply. Not with Vander. Not with anyone. Only the children had been allowed into that tender part of her.

But this- this was different.

This was him.

And she’d missed him so much.

Silco stood slowly.

Then, wordlessly, he reached for her- his touch uncharacteristically gentle as he pulled her to her feet, even as she trembled beneath his hands.

She nearly collapsed into him.

But he caught her.

His arms wrapped tight around her small frame, pulling her flush to his chest as she nuzzled into the crook of his neck, her sobs muffled against his collar. She breathed him in like she was afraid it might be the last time.

He still smelled like he always had- warm, sharp, a little like smoke... But now there was something else. Something chemical. Acrid. Lingering under the surface.

It clung to his coat, to his skin.

Shimmer.

She didn’t ask. Not yet. She just held him tighter, her fingers curling into the back of his coat... And Silco closed his eyes.

For the first time in years…

He held her like he’d never let go.

Silco held her until the shaking dulled, until the sobs faded into shallow, trembling breaths. He cupped her face afterward, thumbs brushing away the tears left behind on her cheeks, movements tender in a way that almost didn’t fit the man he'd become.

But then his gaze drifted past her- eyes narrowing toward the window that overlooked the catwalk.

He stilled.

(Y/N) turned, heart clenching.

Outside, darting shapes blurred through the shadows.

Mylo… Claggor. Vi.

Her heart dropped.

She spun back to Silco, panic in her eyes. “Sil- Silco, please- don’t hurt them. Please, don’t kill them. I- They’re just kids. I raised them. I love them. I-”

He leaned down, his hand slipping behind her neck. His lips pressed softly to her forehead.

“Calm down…” he murmured. “I can’t promise anything… I think you’ve figured that out by now.”

Her heart cracked again.

“But,” he added, gently taking her hand, “I will do all I can… Just for you.”

Her breath hitched- part fear, part relief, part dread.

He led her from the office, down toward the walkways that twisted like veins through the heart of the factory. His hand never left hers.

A whistle cut through the air behind them.

Footsteps answered.

Sevika fell in beside them, lifting an eyebrow at the sight of (Y/N) before letting out a sharp sigh and shaking her head.

“Of course,” she muttered.

Another man appeared, stepping forward.

He held chains.

(Y/N)’s stomach turned cold.

She pulled her hand from Silco’s, taking a step back- heart hammering.

Silco’s hand caught her chin gently, tilting her face toward him. His expression was unreadable.

“I have to take precautions,” he said softly. “You understand, don’t you?”

She didn’t have time to answer.

The man with the chains moved in quickly, wrapping them around her wrists and upper arms. As soon as the metal touched her skin, she felt it- pain, sudden and sharp, as the runes engraved in the chain flared to life, cutting off her magic.

Her breath stuttered. Her knees buckled slightly.

He made these… for her.

The realization made her blood run cold.

She struggled on instinct, fire rising in her throat- but Sevika grabbed her from behind, locking an arm around her shoulders to drag her forward.

Silco walked ahead of them all, his voice smooth as he approached the group below.

“Welcome.”

The children turned sharply.

Mylo tensed. Claggor instinctively stepped in front of Powder. Vi’s fists clenched at her sides.

And then they saw her.

Sevika dragged (Y/N) into the open, the chains glowing faintly against her skin.

Their eyes locked with hers.

And (Y/N)’s heart shattered.

Fear. Sadness. Betrayal.

Vi’s voice broke through the silence, small and shaking.

“M-Mom…?”

(Y/N) choked on the lump in her throat, pulling against the chains- only to cry out softly when the runes sparked again.

“I’m okay…” she managed, voice soft and shaking. “Focus on them, alright? Focus on each other.”

She tried to smile, tried to soothe them like she always did.

But her hands were bound. Her power was locked down. And she was being dragged by the man she’d once loved more than anything in the world.

Silco stopped beside her, reaching out to brush her hair back with a tenderness that made her flinch.

“Have you heard the rumor?” he asked the kids, voice light, casual- cruel.

“Vander the coward fled town, left his children behind…”

He paused, eyes glittering with venom.

“…And he was never seen again.”

(Y/N) sucked in a sharp breath, biting her lip to keep from sobbing.

And Vi- her face slowly twisted from fear into rage.

But (Y/N)… she could barely look at them.

Not like this.

Vi didn’t hesitate.

The second she saw (Y/N) like that- bound, chained, magic suppressed- something in her snapped.

“Claggor,” she barked, voice firm. “Find another way out of here.”

Claggor gave a quick nod, already moving, slipping back into the room Vander was in to search for an exit route.

Vander, still slumped in his restraints, his voice raw with emotion, rasped, “You don’t have to do this-”

“Yes, I do,” Vi cut him off, tone solid. Final.

And then one of Silco’s men stepped forward.

A mountain of a man. Thick arms, heavy boots, a massive knife in hand.

The second he approached Vi, (Y/N) instinctively lunged forward- pure panic in her eyes. “No!” she screamed, heart thundering as she tried to reach Vi, tried to protect her babies.

Sevika’s grip tightened around her waist, holding her firm.

(Y/N) fought against the chains anyway, gritting her teeth through the pain, trying to claw her way free.

“Let me go!”

But Sevika didn’t budge.

Vander’s voice broke, more desperate now. “Vi!”

The girl stood tall, squared her shoulders, clenched her fists.

And met the man head-on.

She glanced once- only once- back at Silco, then dropped into a fighting stance, steady and sure.

The man lunged.

He brought the knife down hard, but Vi lifted her arms- Vander’s gauntlets catching the blade with a clang that rang through the entire factory.

The force vibrated down her arms- but she held firm.

Then she struck.

One brutal, upward punch.

Crack.

The man’s head snapped back, blood flying from his mouth along with a tooth. His body flew backwards, crashing to the walkway with a heavy thud.

Out cold.

Silco’s eyes widened just slightly. Not fear. Not quite. But... surprise. He said nothing- just lifted a hand and gave a sharp signal.

Sevika responded immediately, yanking (Y/N) back by the chains, dragging her a step away as more of Silco’s men stepped forward.

(Y/N)’s eyes never left Vi.

Even as she was pulled back, she watched her girl fight.

One after another, they came.

And one by one, Vi dropped them.

A punch to the gut. A backhanded swing to the jaw. A full-force slam that sent one man tumbling off the side of the catwalk, screaming as he fell.

If the situation weren’t so dire, (Y/N) would’ve been bursting with pride.

Even through the fear, through the chains biting into her skin, she felt it rise like warmth in her chest.

Her baby girl was holding her own.

Then… only Sevika remained.

She stepped forward, cracking her knuckles, clearly ready to jump in.

But Silco raised his hand- calm, measured.

“Hold.”

Sevika paused, eyes narrowing. But she obeyed.

Still gripping (Y/N) tightly, keeping her locked in place, but she didn’t move to fight.

Silco stepped forward slowly, watching Vi with a calculating eye.

This wasn’t over.

Not yet.

Silco’s expression was unreadable as his eyes shifted toward the sickly man lingering nearby- the one who had once torn through Enforcers like paper, and now barely looked human at all. Gaunt, twitching, with veins of violet threading beneath his skin.

“Ready to rise to the surface?” Silco asked, his voice deceptively soft.

The man’s eyes flicked to the small, glowing vial in Silco’s hand- a pulsing purple liquid that shimmered with unnatural energy. His gaze grew desperate, wild. He snatched it the second it was offered, uncorking it and downing the contents like it was the only thing keeping him alive.

And then- he screamed.

The transformation was immediate, violent. His spine arched, bones cracking, limbs lengthening, skin distorting. Purple fluid spilled from the corners of his mouth as his body twisted into something monstrous. The shriek that followed rattled the steel beams of the factory.

(Y/N)’s blood ran cold.

“No- no!” she shouted, yanking against the chains as hard as she could. Sevika held her firm, but her grip trembled slightly under the struggle. “Silco!”

Vi didn’t hesitate- she lunged in to strike the creature before it fully stabilized, gauntlets swinging.

But the monster was faster.

It caught her by the throat, lifting her effortlessly off the ground.

“No!” (Y/N) thrashed harder, desperation clawing through her throat. She looked at Silco, eyes wild. “You said you wouldn’t kill them!”

Silco’s jaw clenched. His face flickered with something- guilt, maybe. Regret.

“I said I’d try,” he said quietly.

It wasn’t enough.

Vander roared over the chaos, his voice raw. “Silco! Let her go! This is between you and me!”

Silco’s eyes darkened. His voice was flat- cold. “You had your chance.”

And the monster threw Vi.

She crashed hard into a nearby wall, grunting as she slid across the floor. One of the gauntlets skidded free, clattering loudly across the steel.

(Y/N)’s scream cracked out of her, her knees buckling as she fought harder.

Vi coughed, gasping, barely able to pull herself up. The monster advanced, step by heavy step, dripping shimmer and fury with every movement.

She crawled.

Clawed toward the others.

(Y/N), Vander, Mylo, and Claggor all shouted her name, voices overlapping in a desperate crescendo.

And then- Vi reached the door. With a trembling hand, she slammed it shut- and locked it. The bolt echoed like thunder.

The monster crashed into the other side, but the door held.

Inside, silence reigned for a moment. A breath of reprieve. Of safety.

(Y/N) collapsed to her knees in Sevika’s grip, a sob tearing loose from her throat.

Vi was safe.

For now.

Tears ran down her cheeks as she whispered, “Thank the Gods…”

But her eyes never left Silco.

And her heart had never hurt more.

The creature outside the sealed door snarled and slammed its fists against the metal, again and again. The walkway shook with the force of it, rattling bolts and echoing through the factory like thunder.

Sevika kept her grip on (Y/N), who was breathing hard, her cheeks damp with tears, her arms still trembling from the aftermath.

Silco stood nearby, unmoving- expression unreadable, eyes fixed on the blocked doorway.

(Y/N)’s voice cracked through the din, soft, pleading. “Please… Please, Silco… don’t do this…”

She turned her face toward him, eyes wide, broken. “Let the kids go. Please.”

There was a silence between them.

And then he looked at her.

His gaze softened- just slightly- as he sighed quietly.

“…Fine,” he said after a pause. “Once we get them all gathered again, I’ll let the children go.” His tone stayed firm. “But only the children.”

(Y/N)’s breath hitched, her body sagging in Sevika’s arms as if the tension had suddenly drained all at once. A strangled sob slipped past her lips.

And then- click.

A small sound. Metal ticking softly against the walkway.

(Y/N)’s eyes widened in an instant. “What..?”

Her gaze darted toward the source- a monkey. Small, mechanical, familiar. It shuffled forward, toy-like limbs moving with mechanical innocence.

She recognized it immediately.

Powder’s.

The monkey sat still for a beat, and then-

BOOM.

The explosion ripped through the walkway in a blinding blast of heat and sound.

Silco lunged, pulling (Y/N) into his arms and wrapping himself tightly around her, shielding her body with his own. Sevika threw herself in front of them both- arms outstretched.

The force hit them like a wave.

Smoke. Shrapnel. Flames.

When (Y/N) came to, her ears were ringing. Her limbs heavy.

She blinked hard, vision swimming- and realized Silco was still holding her, arms wrapped tight. Sevika lay sprawled across the walkway ahead of them, unmoving.

Her left arm… was gone.

(Y/N) cried out in horror and pushed away from Silco, slipping from his grip. The chains slowed her, made her stumble, but she didn’t stop.

She crawled, dragging herself across the scorched walkway toward the room where the kids had been.

“No, no, no-” she whispered over and over.

The devastation was unreal.

Pieces of the railing hung loose, sparks flying from destroyed panels.

And in the back of the room-

Claggor.

Still. Lifeless.

Mylo- bloodied, crushed under debris, unmoving.

She fell to her knees in the middle of the walkway, her hands bound, unable to even hold them. She just stared through fresh, silent tears, sobbing until her voice cracked.

Behind her, Silco slowly emerged from the smoke. He stepped around Sevika’s body- limping slightly- and moved to (Y/N)’s side.

He knelt, wordless, placing a hesitant hand on her shoulder.

She shrugged it off.

He didn’t try again.

But when her body gave out, she collapsed against him anyway, no fight left in her. Her sobs echoed against the steel.

From inside the room, Violet’s screams and cires rang out. High, panicked, broken.

(Y/N) closed her eyes and shook her head, lips trembling. “It wasn’t supposed to be like this.”

Then-

Movement.

Vander stumbled from the room, face battered, holding onto the wall for balance. His eyes flicked from (Y/N) to the remaining men around them- and the monster, who was still alive, still looming.

He roared and charged.

Fists flew.

He threw punches with the strength of desperation, slamming into the beast again and again. The creature responded in kind, and the two clashed like titans- blows echoing through the factory.

Then-

The creature landed a blow, sending Vander crashing down onto the walkway.

He groaned, tried to stand-

And from beside (Y/N), Silco rose to his feet. Slowly... Deliberately.

(Y/N) watched, dazed. She didn’t move. Didn’t speak.

Just watched.

Silco stepped up behind Vander- silent as a shadow.

And then… The blade.

In the back.

Vander choked, his body jerking forward. He turned, gasping, and grabbed Silco by the throat.

Silco- eyes fierce, lips curled into something almost mournful- stabbed him again.

Lower.

Vander’s grip weakened. He sagged forward, collapsing against Silco’s chest. The two of them locked eyes, breath labored and pained.

“…I knew you still had it in you,” Silco whispered.

And then he shoved him.

Vander’s body tumbled over the edge- into the boxes of shimmer bwloe, where spilled chemicals, shattered shimmer vials, and fire burned like hell itself.

Everything went quiet.

Except for (Y/N)’s trembling breath, and the sound of Vi sobbing somewhere in the dark.

Silco's steps were measured, calm despite the blood on his hands and the tremor still rolling through the floor beneath them. He approached the shimmer-mutated creature with purpose, voice sharp but steady.

“...Find the girl.”

The monster obeyed, stomping toward the ruined room. Its heavy limbs dragged it forward into the wreckage-strewn room where Violet had been trapped with Mylo and Claggor's fallen bodies.

Vi panicked as the creature loomed over her, its breath huffing like steam, arms rising to grab her-

BOOM.

A massive crashing sound rang through the factory, making the entire structure lurch violently.

(Y/N) stumbled.

The walkway groaned beneath their feet.

And then- a low growl.

Primal. Familiar.

Silco stepped in front of (Y/N) instantly, his arm thrown out to shield her, body still tense from the last fight.

Another figure emerged through the smoke and shadow.

Twisted. Unnatural.

A different kind of monster.

It grabbed Silco’s beast by the throat before anyone could react- crushing, choking- and with a violent twist, snapped its neck like it was nothing more than paper. The limp body was thrown aside, crashing into a wall and slumping into the rubble.

Silco’s jaw tensed as his eyes widened.

He stepped forward and forced (Y/N) up, gripping her arm, steadying her.

She didn’t speak- didn’t move beyond what he guided.

Her eyes were locked on the new creature.

Its eyes met hers- burning, tinged with shimmer.

“...Vander,” she whispered, barely audible.

He had survived.

He had used the shimmer.

And he had changed.

Silco realized it too, the horror evident in the way he slowly stepped back, pulling (Y/N) with him, his body subtly shifting into defense again. Vander snarled- deep and guttural- his distorted voice still capable of forming one clear word:

“Silco.”

(Y/N) tensed as Silco’s grip tightened around her hand.

The building shuddered again- more violently now. Pipes groaned, embers danced across the floor. The fire had spread.

Vander’s monstrous form looked between Silco and the collapsed room behind him- where Violet’s sobs could still faintly be heard.

And then, with a roar, he turned and ran, barreling back through the corridor.

(Y/N) and Silco watched as he scooped up Violet and charged through the broken wall just as the room collapsed around them. The building behind them erupted into flame, collapsing in on itself as embers roared toward the sky.

They stood in silence.

Silco gently tugged (Y/N) forward, guiding her out of the ruin. She didn’t resist, her legs moving on instinct alone. Her face was hollow, her eyes empty. The world around her felt far away.

But she heard it.

Faint, echoing through the smoke:

Vi's screams.

Powder’s cries.

They walked until the sounds grew louder- closer.

Then, voices. Muffled at first.

Powder’s, frantic. “Violet?! Please! Come back! Vi!”

That- that- snapped something in (Y/N).

She yanked free of Silco’s grip, her chains rattling as she stumbled forward.

“Powder!” she gasped.

She ran, her feet carrying her through the scorched earth, eyes scanning desperately- until she saw her.

Powder.

Kneeling in the ash. Shoulders shaking. Her arms wrapped tightly around herself.

“Vi!” she sobbed. “She left me! I didn’t mean to- I didn’t mean to-!”

(Y/N) froze a few steps away.

Her heart shattered all over again.

Powder was curled up so small, so broken.

Tears spilled from (Y/N)’s eyes as she slowly stepped closer.

Powder looked up.

And launched into her.

“Mama-!”

(Y/N) caught her instinctively, knees hitting the ground as she wrapped her arms around the girl- holding her so tightly, like she could piece her back together if she just held on hard enough.

Silco reached them seconds later, catching both of them as they toppled into his legs. He knelt behind them, arms wrapping around them both- sheltering them from what little of the world was left.

(Y/N) glanced around, confused, still dazed and trying to keep her sobbing to a minimum. “Where… Where did Vi go..?”

Powder cried into (Y/N)’s shoulder. “She left me. She’s… Not my sister anymore…”

(Y/N) stroked her hair, sobbing silently, her throat too raw for words.

Silco’s voice was low, gentle- soothing in a way she hadn’t heard in years.

“It’s okay…” he whispered. “We’ll show them.”

His hand brushed through Powder’s hair… then over (Y/N)’s.

“We’ll show them all.”

And in that hollow quiet, surrounded by ash and ruin, (Y/N) clung to Powder.

And Silco clung to them both.

And for better or worse…

This was what remained.

The chains still bound her wrists, biting into her skin, heavy with runes that pulsed faintly against her magic. But (Y/N) didn't care. She held onto Powder as best she could, arms wrapped tight despite the limits, despite the pain. The girl was clinging just as hard- shaking, sobbing, burying her face into (Y/N)’s neck.

They stayed like that for a long while. Just breathing. Just surviving.

Eventually, Silco shifted beside them, his voice low, yet steady.

“Come on,” he said, gently.

He reached down, wrapping an arm around (Y/N)’s shoulders to help her rise. She trembled as she stood, her limbs aching, the chains dragging against her legs. Powder still clung to her, and with no small effort, (Y/N) shifted the girl up into her arms.

It hurt. It was heavy. Her body screamed in protest.

But she carried her anyway.

Silco kept close at her side, his hand never leaving her back as he slowly led them out of the ruins.

Behind them, a few of his surviving men regrouped near what was left of the factory. The fire still burned high in the distance, lighting the skyline like a grim beacon.

Silco glanced over his shoulder, voice firm as he spoke to them.

“Gather everything that’s left. Anything not lost in the blast- documents, weapons, shimmer... all of it.” His eyes narrowed slightly. “We’re done here. We take the bar now.”

There was no discussion.

The men moved quickly.

And Silco turned back to (Y/N), his voice quieter now, meant only for her and Jinx.

“We’ll start again,” he said, more to himself than anyone. “From the ashes.”

As the three of them walked off into the night- (Y/N) carrying Powder, Silco walking protectively at their side- the echoes of everything they’d lost still clung to their heels.

One they got to The Last Drop, Powder sat small and trembling on the bar, legs drawn up, ash smudged across her cheeks and under her eyes like a warpaint she never asked for. (Y/N) moved on instinct- her hands steady despite the shaking in her bones. She soaked the cloth in warm water and gently wiped away the soot, the blood, the smoke. Each stroke soft and methodical.

“There we go, Powpow…” she whispered, voice quiet, mother-soft. “I’ve got you.”

Powder flinched at the name, her lip wobbling. “Jinx…”

(Y/N)’s hands froze, just for a moment.

Powder didn’t look up. Her voice cracked as she repeated it. “I’m a jinx… That’s what I should be called…”

(Y/N) didn’t argue. Didn’t correct her. She just resumed cleaning, her touch never wavering.

“…Okay…” she said softly. “Either way... I’ve got you...”

From the far side of the bar, Silco watched. Silent. Still.

His eyes tracked the chains at (Y/N)’s wrists- the way they pulled at her skin every time she moved to tend to Powder.

He stepped forward slowly, fingers brushing the edge of a small brass key in his coat pocket. When he spoke, his voice was cautious. Careful.

“(Y/N)…?”

She glanced over her shoulder, eyes sharp and cold beneath her exhaustion. She looked like she hadn’t fully come down from the chaos. Like a thread pulled too tight.

Silco held up the key.

“Can I trust you still?”

She scoffed, the sound dry, brittle. “I think that’s my question, Silco.”

He let out a quiet hum. Not a laugh. Not quite.

“I suppose it is.”

He walked closer, holding the key between two fingers. “This is for your chains. If I know you won’t turn on me… I’ll undo them.”

Powder’s- no, Jinx’s- eyes widened as she noticed the chains for the first time. “You’re- You’re chained-?” she gasped, reaching for (Y/N)’s wrists.

(Y/N) didn’t look away from Silco, but her expression softened as Powder pleaded, “L-Let her go… please?”

Silco didn’t move yet.

(Y/N) took a deep breath.

“I won’t attack you,” she said finally, her voice low, calm, resolute. “If that’s what you’re asking.” Her jaw clenched. “Undo them.”

Silco studied her for a moment longer- long enough for the weight of the moment to settle between them.

Then, slowly, he stepped forward… and slid the key into the lock.

The moment the chains hit the floor with a clatter, the magic surged.

Golden marks bloomed like ink across (Y/N)’s skin, glowing softly as they curled up her arms, pulsing with life and power that had been kept caged for far too long. Her eyes lit with the same glow- bright, wild, beautiful- before it all flickered, then faded, like the last flare of a dying star.

She didn’t flinch.

Didn’t revel in the return of her freedom.

She just exhaled quietly… and turned right back to Jinx.

There was no rage. No revenge. Just… care.

She dipped the cloth again, gently cleaning around the girl’s forehead where soot clung to her hairline. Her voice was soft, steady again.

“Almost done, sweetheart…”

Jinx stayed quiet, sniffling now and again, her fingers gripping the edge of the bar tightly.

Silco didn’t speak. He simply watched her- this girl who once burned like fire, now bent over the broken remnants of a child she swore to protect. There was something reverent in the way he looked at her, something unreadable in the way his fingers twitched at his side but never reached out.

(Y/N) gave no further reaction to her magic’s return.

No questions.

No celebration.

She just tucked a lock of Jinx’s hair behind her ear and whispered, “There we go, little firecracker…”

Because for now, she’d take care of her.

And she’d call her by something warm.

Something safe.

Until the world made room for her again.

A/N: This is the sequel to Ember in the Dark! I really enjoy writing for this fic :}

Loyalty Cuts Deepest pt.1

Silco x Fem!Reader

(Ember in the Dark- prequel) pt.1

Warnings: Violence/Gore, Death/Grief, Trauma, Substance Use, War/Revolution Themes.

Word Count: 6110

Summary: After a failed topside heist, the kids return to The Last Drop bruised and reeking of trouble. (Y/N) and Vander quickly realize something went wrong- an explosion, a chase, and Enforcer heat. They soon learn Piltover is demanding someone take the fall. Vander refuses to give up the kids. Just as Grayson arrives, Silco reemerges- changed, vengeful, and flanked by a monstrous ally. He slaughters the Enforcers, kills Benzo, and takes Vander. When Silco turns to (Y/N), she sees a man both familiar and monstrous. Despite everything, she still loves him- and when he asks her to come, she does. They disappear into the shadows, leaving the shattered remnants of their family behind.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The bar had been alive with its usual hum- clinking glasses, laughter a little too loud, the low rhythm of a deal being whispered between regulars at the corner booth. (Y/N) had fallen into the comfort of routine, her hands quick behind the bar, pouring drinks and trading coin, while Vander worked beside Huck a few steps away, smoothing out a supply deal with his usual half-gruff charm.

It had been a good night.

Until the door creaked open, and the kids walked in.

The smell hit first.

Then the bruises.

Then- Powder’s wide eyes, Vi’s split lip, Mylo’s torn sleeve, and Claggor’s slumped shoulders. They looked like they’d crawled through the Undercity’s rot and back again, covered in grime, bruised and battered- and definitely not just from a run through the Lanes.

(Y/N)’s entire body went still.

Vander looked up, went quiet. She caught his eye, and they both moved without a word- leaving one of the bartenders to manage the bar.

They followed the trail of reek and silence down into the back room.

Before they even reached the door, they could hear the muffled voices- Vi’s sharp whisper, Mylo’s whine, Powder’s soft murmur- and something tight curled in (Y/N)’s gut.

She pushed open the door.

There they were- slouched around the coffee table like the ghosts of their younger selves. Vi in the armchair, sitting tall despite the bruises, her arms crossed over her chest like armor. Powder curled up beside her on the couch, her knees to her chest, eyes fixed on the floor. Mylo and Claggor sat opposite, not quite meeting anyone’s gaze.

(Y/N) didn’t speak.

She turned and grabbed a stack of clean cloths from the shelf and tossed them- one to Vi, one to Mylo, one to Claggor. Her way of saying Start cleaning yourselves up before I lose it.

Vander’s voice broke the silence, low and grim.

“Everyone all right?”

Mylo huffed, eyes anywhere but on them. “Never better.”

Vander hummed, slow and deliberate. “Good.”

He stepped forward, hands clasped behind his back, his voice cold enough to silence the whole room.

“I don’t suppose you can explain why we’re hearing about an explosion and a foot chase topside. Four children fleeing the scene.”

(Y/N) moved quietly around the room, ignoring the smell, the grime, the tension in the air. She crouched in front of Vi, gently grabbing her chin, tilting her face side to side to check for broken skin or swelling.

“What the hell were you thinking?” she asked, low and sharp, eyes flicking over the bruises on Vi’s cheek.

Vi rolled her eyes and tried to pull back. “That we can handle a real job?”

Vander’s face hardened instantly.

“A real job?”

Vi straightened, her voice quick now. “We got our own tip. Planned a route. Nobody even saw-”

“You blew up a building,” (Y/N) snapped, grabbing her chin again, giving her a warning look that stopped her cold.

Vi tried to deflect. “That wasn’t-”

“Did you even stop to think,” Vander cut in, “what could’ve happened to you? To them?”

He pointed to each of them, one by one, and they all flinched. Even Mylo stopped pretending to act tough. Vi’s bravado shrank a little, and she looked down, finally letting (Y/N) finish checking her over in silence.

When she was done, (Y/N) moved to Powder, brushing dirt from her temple with gentle fingers. The girl hadn’t said a word yet, just sat curled in on herself, her eyes wide and glassy.

Vander exhaled hard, dragging a hand down his face.

“Where did you even get this tip?”

Silence.

(Y/N) shifted to check Claggor’s arm, noting a deep scrape along his bicep.

Still silence.

Then Powder’s voice came, soft and tired.

“…We just heard it at Benzo’s shop.”

Vander’s brow furrowed. “From?”

“…Little Man,” Powder admitted.

(Y/N) froze just slightly- then closed her eyes and let out a breath, pressing a cloth to Claggor’s arm.

Of course it had been Ekko.

Of course.

Vander muttered a curse under his breath, starting to pace again as the room sat heavy in shame.

(Y/N) didn’t yell. Didn’t need to. She just kept working, her voice calm but cold.

“You’re damn lucky you all made it back,” she said, not looking at any of them. “You’re not invincible. And you’re not ready.”

No one argued.

No one could.

And still, in the back of her mind, a sharp pain echoed through her chest-

We were them once.

And look how that turned out.

The silence in the room following Powder’s confession hung thick- too heavy for the small space, for their small shoulders.

Vander exhaled deeply, weariness settling into his spine like weight he hadn’t shaken in years. He turned to Vi, but she was already standing, her chin tilted up defiantly.

“I took us there,” she said, her voice firm and unflinching. “If you’re gonna be mad, be mad at me. But you’re the one who always says we have to earn our place in the world.”

Vander’s jaw clenched, and he huffed. “I also told you time and time again- the Northside’s off-limits.”

(Y/N), still kneeling by Claggor’s side, looked up, her voice cool. “We stay out of Piltover’s business.”

Vi threw up her hands, talking fast and hot now. “Why? They’ve got plenty, while we’re down here scraping together coins. We’re supposed to just be grateful for scraps?”

She turned her glare to Vander, eyes sharp. “When did you get so comfortable living in someone else’s shadow?”

The words cut through the room like broken glass.

Silence fell.

Even Powder looked up at that, her face unreadable. Mylo’s leg bounced, fast and nervous. Claggor stayed still, not meeting anyone’s eyes.

(Y/N) sighed, slow and heavy, and pushed herself to her feet now that she was sure no one was bleeding out or had a concussion.

She looked at all of them- Vi’s glare, Powder’s clenched hands, Mylo’s sullen posture.

“Right,” she said, with finality. “Everyone out. Come on.”

There was no argument.

They stood, shuffling past her in silence. She guided them out of the room, her hand resting briefly on each shoulder as they passed, quiet reassurance even in her exasperation.

She left Mylo and Claggor in the hallway, watching them both closely for any lingering tension.

Then she followed Powder out the bar's back entrance, lighting a cigarette as the younger girl knelt by one of the bins, digging around with practiced ease.

(Y/N) watched her, blowing out smoke slowly- until Powder paused.

Her hand stilled. She reached into her coat pocket and pulled out something small, bright, and unnaturally blue.

A crystal.

It shimmered faintly even in the low light, and for a heartbeat, Powder just stared at it- eyes wide, breath shallow.

(Y/N) raised an eyebrow. “What’s that?”

But Powder flinched, snapping out of it, and shoved the thing deep into her coat like it might vanish if she just willed it hard enough. Then she bolted back inside without a word.

(Y/N) let it go.

For now.

She dropped her cigarette, crushed it under her boot, and followed after her, heart starting to beat a little faster.

Down the hall, just outside the kids’ room, she heard voices again.

Mylo.

“She's a problem.”

Vi’s voice, quiet. “Mylo, I'm really not-”

“Do you remember what was in that bag?” Mylo snapped. “The biggest payout we’ve ever seen. And she lost it.”

(Y/N) froze outside the door, hand hovering near the handle.

Inside, she heard the soft thunk of a ball bouncing against the wall. Mylo caught it. Threw it again.

“She made a mistake,” Vi said defensively.

“Name one time she hasn’t.”

“She’s young.”

“Don’t bullshit me. You were twice the person at half her age.”

A pause.

Then Vi’s voice, lower now. Bitter.

“You know what, Mylo? You’re right. There’s a bunch of things Powder just can’t do.”

Mylo didn’t hesitate. “You don’t have to tell me twice.”

The words hit harder than they realized.

Because Powder had heard them, too.

She ran past (Y/N) in the hallway, wiping at her face, shoulders shaking.

(Y/N) didn’t say anything- she just followed, quick and quiet, until she found her in the kids’ room, curled up in her little makeshift fort. The same one she used to sleep in after Felicia died. Nestled between blankets and pillows and broken bits of inventions, trying to lose herself in something that wasn’t this.

(Y/N) slipped inside the fort without hesitation, kneeling and gathering Powder into her arms like she’d done a hundred times before.

Like a mother.

Because she was, in all the ways that mattered.

She didn’t say anything- just held her, stroking her hair, pressing a soft kiss to her head like Felicia used to do, like (Y/N) had once wished someone had done for her.

Eventually, Powder’s trembling eased, though she still clutched at (Y/N)’s coat like she was afraid to let go.

Then footsteps.

Vi.

She stood awkwardly in the doorway, a small frown plain on her face.

(Y/N) pressed one more kiss to Powder’s head, then slowly stood. She passed Vi on the way out and didn’t say anything- just reached up, brushed a thumb across her cheek, and kissed her forehead gently, too.

Then she left them alone.

Sisters.

To mend it on their own.

She made her way out of the bar, walking through the Lanes. The air outside Benzo’s was thick with tension, the kind that curled around your ribs and didn’t let go.

(Y/N) spotted Ekko leaning against the wall just outside, trying to look casual but clearly on edge. His arms were crossed tight, eyes sharp as they scanned the alley like he was expecting someone to come flying around the corner.

She softened at the sight of him- such a little thing, trying so hard to act grown.

She ruffled his hair as she passed. “Hey, little man.”

He gave a small, tired smile, but didn’t say much- just gave her a subtle nod before returning to his watch.

Inside, Benzo’s place smelled like oil and metal and something acrid in the walls that never quite went away. Vander was already talking when she stepped in- low, angry tones, his back half-turned to the door.

Benzo caught her eye and gave a slight nod. “She’s here.”

Vander turned, and just the look on his face made her stomach drop.

“They’re blaming us,” he said without any preamble. “Grayson- she says Piltover needs someone to hang it on.”

(Y/N)’s jaw clenched. “Of course they do.”

“She said it came from higher up,” Vander went on. “One of the councilors. Said they can’t afford to ignore this. So they want blood. Names.”

Her arms crossed slowly. “Let me guess- they want our kids.”

Vander nodded grimly.

“They want someone to take the fall for the explosion. For the theft. For trespassing topside.”

(Y/N) didn’t speak right away. She just stared at him.

She knew about the deal- Vander had brokered it years ago, when they were still clawing their way out of the ruins of the bridge. Keep the Undercity quiet, and Piltover wouldn’t look too closely. Keep things calm, and they’d stay out of the Lanes.

It had always felt like a fragile truce. Like balancing a knife on glass.

And now… it was breaking.

“They think you’ll hand over the kids,” she said, flatly.

Vander’s eyes burned. “I won’t.”

Benzo didn’t interrupt. He just watched as Vander pulled a small device from his coat- a metal piece that could be sent topside.

Vander nodded toward it. “Grayson gave the signal. She’s waiting for an answer.”

(Y/N) stared at it, then nodded once.

“We tell her no,” she said. “And we watch everything.”

They made their way back to the bar.

The kids had already scattered down into the arcade on (Y/N)’s word- somewhere out of sight, somewhere quiet. Somewhere that used to be theirs when they were younger, running from the world before the weight of it caught up.

Inside The Last Drop, the mood had shifted.

The usual warmth was still there, but the edges were fraying. People were tense. Voices were low. There were more eyes on the door than there were on drinks.

(Y/N) took her spot behind the bar. Vander leaned against the far end, scanning the crowd, quiet.

They didn’t talk much. Just kept their ears open.

Hours passed like that.

And then-

The kids came back.

One by one, they filed in through the side hallway, muddy boots scuffing softly on the wood. They didn’t say anything, didn’t cause a scene. Just… lingered.

Near the back. Close enough to (Y/N) and Vander to be protected, but not so close they’d be noticed.

Smart kids.

They’d learned to move like shadows.

And for now, that was exactly what they needed to be.

The tension in The Last Drop had become thick enough to choke on. Whispers had turned to murmurs. Murmurs into open frustration. And when Sevika stood from her booth, drink in hand, there was no mistaking the shift in the room.

“We should hit them back,” she said, her voice cutting clean through the chatter. “We’ve got the numbers to best them.”

(Y/N), standing behind the bar with her hands gripping a towel a little too tightly, said nothing. But her chest stirred with reluctant agreement.

She knew Sevika was right.

But she also knew what happened the last time they 'had the numbers.'

So she stayed quiet.

Because following Vander’s lead- whether it sat right or not- was the only thing that had kept the Undercity from burning again.

Vander raised his voice calmly but firmly, pushing off from where he leaned.

“You sure that’s what you want?” he asked, stepping forward slowly. “We crossed that bridge before. And we all know how that ended.”

(Y/N) tensed. She didn’t move, didn’t speak- but the weight of his words hit her like a hammer to the ribs.

Felicia’s hands, cold and bloodied in hers.

Connol’s still body on the ground.

The last time she saw Silco.

She said nothing. Just lit a cigarette and looked away.

Someone else, half-drunk and bitter, chimed in from near the door. “You’re just protecting your kids.”

(Y/N)’s eyes snapped over her shoulder- straight to the back corner, where the kids stood, lingering. They’d kept quiet, kept out of sight, but they were still watching.

Still listening.

Vander didn’t rise to the bait. He stepped in calmly, the firm voice of a man who had earned this room.

“I’m protecting our people,” he said. “I’d do the same for any one of you. We look out for each other. That’s the way it’s always been.”

(Y/N) exhaled slowly, smoke curling from her lips.

“This’ll blow over,” she added, tone even. “We just need to stand together.”

Sevika scoffed, ignoring her entirely. Her eyes were locked on Vander.

“The Vander I knew- the one who built the Undercity- he wouldn’t be afraid to fight.”

The bar hushed again.

Vander stepped toward her slowly, unflinching, until they stood toe-to-toe. He stared her down.

“Do I look afraid?”

Without hesitation, Sevika fired back: “No. You look weak.”

Then she let out a sharp whistle.

Her crew stood up in unison- shoulders squared, weapons at their hips- and one by one, they filed out the bar behind her, Sevika last.

(Y/N) didn’t stop them.

Neither did Vander.

Silence returned.

The kids- still watching- retreated down the hallway toward their room. Not a word. Just quiet understanding.

(Y/N) let out a long sigh and lit another cigarette, taking a slow drag as she leaned against the bar.

Then the door opened again.

Three Enforcers entered.

Not the usual grunts. Higher rank. Clean boots. One of them, Marcus, stepped ahead of the others like he already owned the place.

(Y/N) straightened, flicking her ash but saying nothing.

“We’re looking for some kids,” Marcus said, eyes scanning the room.

Vander didn’t miss a beat. “Bar’s full of ‘em,” he replied casually. “Best be specific.”

As the Enforcers started walking, poking through corners and checking under tables, Vander moved behind the bar. He grabbed a bottle, uncorked it, and offered, “How ‘bout a drink, eh?”

As he poured, his fingers dipped under the counter- click. The emergency switch. A signal to the kids below.

Hide. Now.

Then, Marcus dropped a line that made (Y/N)’s head whip around in alarm.

“Ran into an old friend of yours,” he said to Vander. “Had some stories.”

The bar went still.

Marcus stepped forward and took Vander’s pipe right out of his hand, rolling it between his fingers.

(Y/N)’s body tensed. So did half the bar.

Vander gave a subtle shake of his head- don’t.

Marcus smirked. “You weren’t always the peacekeeper, were you?”

Then, without flinching, he dropped the pipe into the liquor glass. It caught fire instantly.

Flames crackled in the silence.

Vander’s jaw flexed, but his voice stayed even.

“Yeah, well… you can’t escape the past, right?”

He lifted his eyes slowly- toward the wall above the bar.

Toward the gauntlets mounted high.

The ones he hadn’t touched since that night.

“Be a shame if I had to put ’em on again,” he said, voice low. “Cast irons… well. They’re hard to clean.”

The fire between them flickered. The room held its breath.

And every single person in The Last Drop remembered exactly who Vander used to be.

The search didn’t last long. The Enforcers poked through the bar, lifting up old crates, checking behind curtains, pulling up floor panels that had already been repaired twice over. (Y/N) didn’t flinch. Neither did Vander.

Eventually, the other two returned to Marcus.

“All clear.”

Marcus rolled his eyes with a scoff, lips curling into something sharp and cruel. Vander raised an eyebrow, half a shrug in response.

But Marcus wasn’t done.

“You people down here are all the same,” he sneered, turning to face the bar. “Mistaking arrogance for bravery. You think you're standing up for something, but we all know there’s a crime behind every coin that passes through this place.”

He turned to face Vander, stepping in closer, voice dropping low enough to be lethal.

“You’re just a small man in a little hole the world forgot to bury.”

And then, just to twist the knife-

Marcus lifted his baton and slammed it down onto the burning glass of liquor, shattering it across the counter. Fire spilled over the wood, licking up the side of a bottle rack.

“And I’m gonna bury the lot of you.”

Then he turned, shoved through the crowd of tense patrons, and left with his officers in tow, boots echoing against the stone.

The door slammed.

Silence followed.

(Y/N) didn’t waste time. She grabbed a nearby cloth, slammed it over the fire, smothering the flames until the last of the smoke curled up and vanished into the ceiling vents.

Vander stood there, unmoving, jaw locked tight, eyes still on the door. That line had cut, but he wasn’t about to show it.

Once they were sure the Enforcers were gone, the two of them quietly made their way down to the kids’ room. The tension clung to their shoulders as they descended the stairs.

The kids were all there, huddled and tense. Powder had her hands fisted into her sleeves, trying not to shake. Claggor sat stiffly, while Mylo bounced his leg, eyes darting to every sound.

(Y/N) glanced around, making sure no one was more hurt than they already were. “Are you all okay..?”

Vi was the first to speak.

“No, we’re not okay. They almost saw Powder.” Her voice cracked, furious and terrified all at once. “What if they took her?”

Vander stepped forward quickly, firm but calm. “No one is taking any of you.”

(Y/N) nodded, kneeling beside them. “We would never let that happen. Not to any of you.”

But Vi wasn’t comforted. She threw her arm out, motioning toward the others, her voice rising.

“It’s already happening! You heard him- he’s not gonna stop. They’re gonna keep coming. So we need to fight back. And if you two won’t-” her eyes flicked between Vander and (Y/N), “-then I will.”

(Y/N)’s chest went tight.

It reminded her too much of another voice, another pair of burning eyes once full of conviction.

Silco.

Vander heard it too.

His voice was quiet, but laced with weight. “I’ve heard this kind of talk before...”

He gave (Y/N) a look- a heavy one- before gently placing a hand on Vi’s shoulder and guiding her toward the exit.

“Come with me.”

(Y/N) didn’t stop him. Just watched as they disappeared up the stairs, Vi’s shoulders squared with defiance, Vander silent and steady at her side.

She stayed behind with the others, crouching down beside Powder and gently wrapping her in her arms, murmuring softly to calm her trembling hands.

The kids needed someone to stay.

And she always would.

She stayed downstairs with the kids for a long while after Vi left with Vander- running a hand through Powder’s hair, checking Claggor’s bruises, pressing a damp cloth to the scrape across Mylo’s temple. No one said much. They didn’t need to. The air was heavy with all that almost happened.

Eventually, Vi returned. Quiet, but calmer. She nodded to (Y/N), the unspoken signal that she was okay now- enough, at least.

(Y/N) gave her a gentle touch on the shoulder, then stood, smoothing her palms against her thighs as she made her way back upstairs.

The bar was quieter now, most of the patrons long gone after the Enforcers had stormed out. Only a few lingered in corners, keeping their voices down, casting side-glances toward the bar where Vander stood alone.

He didn’t look at her as she approached. Just held up a half-crushed pack of cigarettes, and she took one wordlessly.

They lit up together, just like they used to.

Back before everything fell apart.

Before the bridge.

Before Silco disappeared.

Before Felicia and Connol never came home.

She sat beside him, leaning against the counter, breathing in the smoke.

They didn’t say anything for a long moment.

Then Vander spoke, his voice quieter than she’d ever heard it.

“I’m going to turn myself in.”

The words struck like stone in her gut. She stared at him, cigarette paused halfway to her lips.

“If it gets them off the kids- if it keeps them safe- it’s worth it.”

Her chest tightened, and she felt the burn of tears she refused to let fall. Vander didn’t flinch. He just reached over and pulled her into a hug- tight, grounding, familiar.

“Promise me,” he murmured into her hair. “If I’m gone... you’ll look after them.”

“You know I will,” she whispered, voice shaking.

But before she could pull back, before the weight of goodbye could fully land-

Vander exhaled, slow and bitter.

“There’s something else.”

She stilled.

And then he told her.

What happened the night of the bridge.

How he and Silco had fought after the battle.

How Vander had overpowered him. Dragged him to the river. Held him under.

Cut his face.

Watched the man he’d once called brother claw his way from the edge, stealing Vander’s own blade before vanishing into the darkness.

“I thought he was dead,” Vander said, quietly. “For a while, I hoped he was.”

(Y/N) stepped back, her cigarette trembling in her hand.

“You tried to kill him?” Her voice was soft, but full of a furious disbelief. “You let me think he was gone. You watched me mourn him, and you knew.”

“I didn’t know how to tell you.”

Her jaw clenched, eyes burning. “You didn’t even try.”

He saw it then. The look of hate on her face. Like she didn’t recognize him anymore.

And maybe, for the first time in years- she didn’t.

Vander turned away, jaw tight, reaching beneath the bar for the signal Grayson had left. He figured now was as good a time as any.

But then the stairs creaked.

They both turned.

Powder stood there at the base of the stairwell, her eyes red-rimmed and sad, fingers curled into the hem of her oversized sweater.

Vander hesitated. Slowly straightened.

“…Want something to drink?” he asked, reaching for a bottle and grabbing a small glass- something sweet, the same kind of juice Felicia used to like.

She nodded, sliding onto the stool as Vander poured it and gently nudged it her way. “Cheer up, eh?”

But (Y/N) hadn’t taken her eyes off her.

Not until she saw it- nestled against Powder’s side, sticking out of her bag slightly.

The bunny.

Vi’s old stuffed bunny.

The one Felicia had given her. Years ago.

The one Vi hadn’t touched in ages.

Vander saw it too.

His body went rigid.

“…Powder,” he said, carefully. “Where did you get that?”

But she didn’t answer. Just looked down.

Vander reached under the bar for the signal.

His hand patted around.

And his face dropped.

“…It’s gone.”

They moved fast.

The second (Y/N) realized the signal was missing, her cigarette hit the floor, half-smoked and forgotten. She met Vander’s eyes- no words needed- and they were out the door before Powder could even ask what was wrong.

Benzo was just locking up his shop when they caught him.

“We need you,” Vander said sharply, grabbing the old man’s arm.

Benzo didn’t ask why. He saw their faces and followed without hesitation.

They ran through the alleys, cutting corners and weaving past the confused late-night crowd, boots echoing over cobblestone. (Y/N)’s heart pounded, every step fueled by a sick dread deep in her gut.

She’s going to turn herself in.

Vi already sent the signal.

We’re too late.

They reached the safehouse tucked just outside the Lanes, its rusted door creaking slightly under pressure. Vander pushed it open, and there she was.

Vi stood near the center of the room, her hands wringing nervously. She looked surprised when she saw them, her brow furrowing.

“Why are you-”

“We don’t have much time,” Vander cut in, stepping forward, already out of breath.

Vi blinked. “How did you find me?”

But Vander didn’t answer. Instead, he grabbed her by the shoulders, steadying her, grounding them both.

“I’m proud of you,” he said. “We all are. Always have been.”

Vi leaned into his touch, confused, her voice cracking. “I’m sorry, I… I thought this was the only way to protect the others.”

While they spoke, (Y/N) and Benzo had moved toward the front window, keeping low. She whistled sharply when she spotted movement outside- dark figures, uniforms, the glint of polished boots catching the faint streetlight.

Benzo’s head snapped toward Vander. “Vander…”

But he was already moving.

He cupped Vi’s face in his hands, eyes locked with hers.

“You’ve got a good heart,” he murmured. “Don’t ever lose it. No matter how the world tries to break you. You and (Y/N)… protect the family.”

“What are you-?”

Then Vander shoved her.

Quick. Rough. Out of nowhere.

Vi yelped as she stumbled backward- falling into the room behind her. Before she could get up, before she could reach for the edge, Vander slammed the door shut and twisted the lock.

Vi pounded on the wood.

“No- Vander!”

But it was too late.

She was safe.

And they would face what came next without her.

The banging hadn’t stopped since Vander locked the door- Vi’s muffled voice yelling his name, fists slamming against the wood from behind. It was the sound of desperation. Of betrayal. Of family being torn apart.

(Y/N)’s heart clenched with every hit.

Then the door to the safehouse opened.

Grayson entered first, calm and composed as always. Her eyes swept the room- landed on the sound coming from beheinde them- and she sighed softly.

“I’m guessing that’s for me.”

Before Marcus could take a single step forward, (Y/N) moved- planting herself in front of the door, arms crossed, jaw tight.

Marcus scowled and stepped forward anyway, only to find Vander stepping in front of him, blocking his path.

“You gonna let us make the arrest or not?” Marcus snapped, already gripping his baton.

Vander raised a hand, voice steady. “You’ll oblige a doomed man one last smoke…”

Before the sheriff could reply, (Y/N) already had a cigarette in her fingers, flicked it to life with a spark of a lighter, and placed it gently between Vander’s lips. Her hands trembled slightly, but she didn’t pull away.

Even now… even after what he’d confessed…

He was family.

He had always been family.

Vander took a long drag, the smoke curling slowly from his lips as he exhaled, voice low and rough.

“Won’t you?”

But before Marcus could lunge again, Grayson moved- swiftly stepping in, shoving Marcus aside without even blinking.

“I’m not putting you away, Vander,” she said, looking up at him, her voice tired but sincere.

Vander’s lips twitched in something close to a smile. “The council needs its pound of flesh.”

“Without you down here,” she countered, “it all falls apart.”

Vander shook his head, smoke trailing from his mouth as he gestured toward the others. “Benzo and (Y/N) will handle things. Might not have my devilish charm, but they run a tight ship.”

Grayson’s expression darkened, just slightly. “You won’t be coming back. Not for a long time.”

Vander took one last drag of the cigarette before pressing the cherry into the floor and crushing it under his boot.

Then he held out his wrists to Marcus.

“…I know.”

Grayson looked at him one last time. “Why?”

Vander’s eyes didn’t leave hers.

“It’s the only way.”

Marcus stepped forward, grabbing Vander roughly and binding his wrists. Vander didn’t fight it.

(Y/N) stood frozen as they turned to leave, the air thick with something that felt like grief- but not quite.

She looked back- just once- at the door behind her. She could still hear Vi banging, yelling. Her voice muffled by wood and fate.

And then, with a heavy heart, she followed them out.

The night air outside the safehouse was sharp, unnervingly still. (Y/N)'s boots hit the stone with practiced calm, her eyes scanning the shadows, instinct prickling at the back of her neck.

Something felt wrong.

Then- a blur.

Faster than any of them could react.

A sound like a blade slicing through the air.

And in one sickening swoop, Enforcers dropped like puppets with cut strings- blood spraying across the cobblestones. Limbs twisted. Armor crumpled. The sheriff was the last to fall, her body collapsing with a weighty thud, lifeless eyes staring at the stars.

(Y/N) froze. Vander cursed, stepping back instinctively, placing himself between her and the carnage.

Vander muttered, “What the devil…”

Marcus stumbled back, panic on his face, reaching for a weapon he barely knew how to use.

Benzo was quicker. He snatched up a pipe from the blood-slicked ground, holding it steady in both hands, old soldier instincts kicking in. “Stay close,” he muttered to (Y/N), voice taut.

But (Y/N) wasn’t hiding anymore.

The grief. The rage. The betrayal. It had been simmering under her skin for years- and now, with the taste of death in the air and the weight of fate hanging heavy, she let it burn.

Her hands lit with flame.

Her magic surged, raw and electric, glowing through the veins in her fingers like wildfire. Her eyes blazed with power, bright and defiant, reflecting the fire pooling at her fingertips.

No more hiding.

Vander stepped forward slowly- his eyes locked on something just beyond the smoke and ruin.

And then his face fell.

“…No,” he breathed.

(Y/N) turned, eyes narrowing, senses sharp.

And then she saw it too.

A figure stepped forward from the shadows. Cloaked in smoke, half-silhouetted by the flickering light of burning lamplight. His shoulders were broad. His coat was unfamiliar. But one eye- one eye- glowed an unnatural, searing orange, burning like a dying star.

She didn’t recognize him at first.

Not until Benzo let out a hoarse, broken whisper beside her.

“…Silco?”

The name struck her like lightning.

Her flames faltered for the briefest moment.

That thing- that man standing before them, drenched in shadow and ruin- was Silco.

Her Silco.

But something was wrong.

Something had changed.

And whatever had crawled out of the river that night wasn’t the man who had once held her like she was everything in the world.

But it was him.

And her heart cracked open at the sight.

Benzo was the first to move.

He let out a sharp cry, his pipe raised high as he charged forward- anger flashing in his eyes. “You animal!” he shouted. “Go crawl back into whatever hole you came out of!”

The moment cracked.

Out of instinct- old, ingrained instinct- (Y/N) almost stepped in front of Silco.

Her body remembered before. Before the fire, before the hatred, before the bridge.

Before the man she loved had disappeared beneath the surface.

“Benzo, stay back!” Vander yelled, already lunging forward, hand outstretched.

But it was too late.

Silco tilted his head slightly, his eye never leaving (Y/N). His voice came low, almost amused. “You never did know when to walk away… Benzo.”

And then it happened.

A whip of movement- barely visible, a blur of sinew and shadow- and the creature returned.

The same unnatural beast that had slaughtered the Enforcers moved again, and in the span of a breath, Benzo was gone.

His body hit the ground hard, unmoving.

(Y/N) froze.

Her magic flickered.

Her gaze locked on Benzo’s lifeless frame.

A strangled sound escaped Vander’s throat as he fell to his knees. “No!”

He scrambled toward his old friend, grief crashing through him like a wave.

Silco stood over it all, watching.

His voice was quieter now, maybe even tired. “Stubborn till the end…”

Marcus, pale and shaken, stepped forward slowly, breath ragged. “What the hell have you done? This- this wasn’t the deal!”

Silco turned his head toward him, one hand still clasped neatly behind his back. He walked slowly, deliberately, like the world around him hadn’t just shifted on its axis.

“Deal’s changed,” he said calmly, before tossing a pouch of gold at Marcus’s feet.

It hit the ground with a heavy clink, blood flecking the edge.

Marcus stared at it. But said nothing.

(Y/N) hadn’t moved.

She couldn’t.

She couldn’t tear her eyes away from Benzo.

Not until she felt him approaching.

Silco’s footsteps were soft, measured, until he stood in front of her. The creature behind him moved toward Vander- without a word- and slammed its fist into the side of Vander’s head. The crack of impact echoed in the alley as Vander slumped unconscious.

(Y/N) twitched, but didn’t react.

She couldn’t.

The monster picked Vander up like a ragdoll and disappeared into the shadows.

Silco… stayed.

He turned his full attention to her.

And for the first time in nearly a decade, she looked into both of his eyes.

One glowing bright, unnatural orange.

And one still the same soft, piercing blue she remembered falling in love with.

Even now, with everything burning around them, with blood still warm on the ground, with her magic humming violently at her fingertips-

Her heart ached.

Still.

Silco reached up, slowly, fingers brushing her chin.

His touch was gentle. Too gentle.

“Did you know?” he asked, voice low. Measured.

“…D… Did I know?”

“Of what happened between Vander and I.”

She swallowed hard.

“…Not… until today.”

Silco’s face barely moved, but something behind his eyes flickered—pain, maybe. Memory.

“I don’t wish to hurt you,” he said, quietly. “But you have to come with me.”

(Y/N) didn’t know what she was doing when she nodded.

Her thoughts were gone- ripped out like a tide.

All she could feel was the burn in her chest, the roaring silence in her mind.

She nodded again, slower this time.

And Silco, seeing her surrender, nodded in return.

Then, without a word, he reached down, took her hand into his-

And led her away.

Away from the blood.

Away from the flame.

Away from the person she had become in his absence.

Marcus watched them disappear into the shadows.

And said nothing.

A/N: Hi everybody! This is the last part of my Young Silco fic :} Im am already writing a sequel, and I am excited to keep this story going. I hope you all like it!

Ember in the Dark pt.11

Young!Silco x Fem!Reader

pt.10 - Sequel

pt.1

Warnings: Violence/Physical Assault, Child Endangerment/Trauma, Death/Grief, War/Revolution, Substance Use.

Word Count: 9273

Summary: (Y/N) helps build a fragile life alongside Silco, Vander, Felicia, and Connol, raising Violet and Powder as their found family. After a violent encounter with Enforcers leaves everyone shaken, tensions escalate between Silco and Vander, leading to a planned uprising at the bridge. (Y/N) chooses to stay behind to protect the girls. The revolution ends in disaster- Felicia and Connol are killed, Silco vanishes, and (Y/N) is left to carry the girls to safety. Vander returns alone, claiming Silco abandoned them, but (Y/N) doesn’t believe it. She searches- finds no body, no trace- and quietly holds onto hope. Years pass. Violet and Powder grow. New kids join their family. The Last Drop becomes a haven, and (Y/N) stays at its heart- scarred but steady, protecting what remains. Silco’s name fades from conversation, but not from memory. She never truly lets him go.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The Last Drop was alive with its usual rhythm- voices echoing off brick walls, the low clink of glass, laughter that rang too loud. But the second (Y/N) stepped inside, saying her hello’s, the mood shifted. Not all at once. Just enough to make the air feel different.

Felicia noticed quick. Her head snapped up from where she sat, Violet balanced on her hip. Her smile dropped like a stone. Her eyes narrowed at the sight of blood, the tension in (Y/N)’s shoulders, the way she clutched her bag like it was stitched to her ribs.

“Oh, god…” she breathed, already half on her feet. “Vander-”

Connol moved before she could finish, steadying Violet as Felicia stood. Vander looked up from where he was drying a glass behind the bar, brows drawing tight. He didn’t speak yet.

But Silco didn’t wait for anyone.

His stool scraped back sharply. The half-full glass he’d been nursing tipped and spilled across the bar, forgotten. He was across the room in seconds- quicker than anyone had ever seen him move when it wasn’t life or death.

His hands were on her before she could get another word out. One arm caught her around the waist, steadying her. The other came to her chin, tilting it gently, his fingers cool and trembling. His jaw clenched. Eyes scanned every mark on her face- the cut at her lip, the bruising along her cheekbone, the scraped edge of her brow.

“Who did this?” he asked, voice low and tight, almost quiet enough to miss. Almost.

She winced when his fingers brushed a sore spot, but she didn’t flinch away. Just looked up at him through lashes heavy with exhaustion, a ghost of a smile on her lips. It didn’t land.

“Enforcers,” she muttered. “Just a patrol.”

His expression darkened. He didn’t tighten his grip, but the air around him seemed to shift- an unspoken pressure that made the room hold its breath.

“They searched me,” she added, hoarse. “Didn’t find anything. They just… wanted to make a point.”

His thumb brushed a streak of blood from the corner of her mouth. His hand lingered there, and something flickered in his expression- hurt, maybe.

“You let them?” he rasped.

“I didn’t fight,” she whispered. “If I had… I might’ve hurt them. I didn’t trust myself not to lose control, even… If I can control it more now, than before...”

Silco closed his eyes, jaw tight with restraint.

Behind them, Vander stepped out from behind the bar. “Get her upstairs,” he said, voice low. “We’ll talk after.”

Felicia was already moving again, clutching Violet like a tether. Her face was a storm.

“I’m fine,” (Y/N) tried to say, barely above a whisper.

“No, you’re not,” Silco muttered. He slipped the edge of her cloak back over her shoulders, tightening it around her with careful hands. “Come on.”

He didn’t give her the chance to argue. With an arm secure around her waist, he guided her toward the stairs. His steps were sharp, shoulders taut with silent fury. Not a word was spoken as the door clicked shut behind them.

The quiet in the room was thick- not awkward, just heavy.

Silco didn’t ask her to sit. He simply steered her gently to the bed, helped her lower herself with careful hands, and moved across the room in a blur of precise motion. The tin basin. The pitcher. A cloth. A bottle of disinfectant- stings like hell, but it kept you alive.

He knelt in front of her and tilted her face toward the light. The cloth was warm. Gentle. He wiped the blood away with a steady hand.

She flinched when it passed over the split in her lip. “Sorry,” he murmured, almost too quietly.

“You’re better than they were,” she said, voice barely audible.

His jaw ticked, but he didn’t answer. He reached for the bottle, soaked a clean cloth, and pressed it carefully to her temple. It burned.

She hissed, eyes watering.

“Hold still.”

It wasn’t sharp. Just soft enough to keep her grounded.

He worked in silence. Cleaning every mark. Every bruise. Every scrape. His focus never wavered, but she could see the tension behind it- the way his brows knit together, the way he breathed through his nose like it was the only way to stay calm.

When he reached her hands, he stopped. Just for a moment.

They were torn up. Raw. Stone and dirt ground into her palms, her knuckles purpled from impact.

His thumbs hovered there, then moved with excruciating care, picking away the debris, soaking the cloth again and again. He didn’t speak until the worst of it was done.

“... You should have fought back.” he whispered, voice rough.

“I didn’t want to hurt anyone,” she said. “Not again.”

He said nothing. Just reached for the gauze. Wrapped her hands with the same precision, knotting them tight enough to protect, not tight enough to sting.

When he finished, he lifted her hand to his lips. A kiss to her knuckles, light as air.

“You should’ve called for me,” he said, finally.

Her throat caught. “I didn’t know if you were nearby.”

“I don’t care,” he said, sharper now. “I would’ve burned the streets down to get to you.”

His eyes met hers. They burned- not with blame. But with something colder. Sharper.

“I’ll find them,” he said. “And when I do-”

“Silco.” Her voice was small, but it cut clean through the tension. “I’m okay. You got me. That’s what matters.”

He looked at her for a long moment. Then his shoulders eased, just barely. He brought her hands to his lips again, eyes closed.

“You shouldn’t have to live like this,” he murmured.

“I want this,” she said, forehead pressing gently to his. “I want you.”

That was all it took to make the rage inside him quiet- at least for now.

He held her. Close. Like he could block out the world just by keeping her there.

No more words passed between them for a while. Just the sound of breath, the warmth of quiet touch. She sat on the edge of the bed, hands bandaged, shoulders sagging under the weight of everything she hadn’t said. Silco crouched in front of her still, hands never straying far.

Eventually, Silco helped her up with the same care he’d shown before. Arm around her waist. Not holding her up- just holding her steady.

They moved down the stairs together. Every creak felt too loud. The hum of the bar had returned, but the energy was different. Tense. Quiet.

Felicia still sat in her usual booth, Violet asleep in her arms, a worn blanket draped across them both. Connol was beside her, quiet and still. His eyes found (Y/N) the moment she appeared.

Vander was behind the bar again. Arms crossed. Watching. Measuring. Counting bruises.

Felicia’s eyes widened when she saw her. Relief flooded her face, but it didn’t erase the lingering anger.

“You’re alright,” she said. Like she needed to say it out loud to believe it. “Really alright?”

“I’m fine,” (Y/N) said, voice steadier now. “Just a little beat up.”

Vander exhaled through his nose and turned for a clean glass. “Sit,” he said, gruff but not unkind. “Drink something warm. You’ll feel it more in an hour.”

(Y/N) gave a tired smile. Let Silco guide her to the booth across from Felicia and Connol. She didn’t lean on him. But she didn’t let go either.

Silco didn’t leave her side. He slid into the booth like he belonged there, quiet and sure, his arm settling along the backrest, fingers grazing her shoulder. He didn’t say a word, but his presence was grounding- anchored, solid.

Felicia leaned forward, eyes narrowed as she took in the bruises on (Y/N)’s face. “If I ever see those bastards near here again…” Her voice was tight, sharp.

“Fel,” Connol said softly, placing a steadying hand on her knee.

She didn’t look at him. “No. I mean it. We can’t just keep letting them do this.”

Silco’s jaw tightened, a muscle jumping in his cheek. Still, he stayed silent. Not here. Not yet. Not when the eyes of the bar had already turned toward them. The murmur of conversation had slowed, dulled. Now, even those who tried to act like they weren’t listening… were.

The atmosphere thickened. Simmering tension pooled in the corners of the room- quiet, heavy, waiting for a spark.

Vander stepped in, a steaming mug in his hand. He set it gently in front of (Y/N), then stepped back, arms folding across his chest.

“We take care of our own,” he said. His voice was low, but it carried. “Always have.”

(Y/N) curled her fingers around the mug. Her eyes stayed down, watching steam rise in slow spirals.

Silco’s hand moved to her back, palm warm through the fabric. His thumb pressed slow, steady circles between her shoulder blades. Grounding. Gentle.

The bar’s rhythm resumed in cautious pieces- clinks of glass, low conversation, chairs scraping against wood- but something had shifted. A quiet understanding passed between the walls. One of theirs had been hurt. Again. And the Undercity remembers.

Behind the bar, Vander didn’t move much. But his posture spoke volumes. Hands braced against the counter, shoulders tight with barely restrained fury. He wasn’t pouring drinks. The bottle beside him sat forgotten.

His eyes hadn’t left (Y/N) since she walked in- since he’d seen the bruises blooming across her skin, the blood drying at the corner of her mouth. The way she winced when she shifted. What haunted him most wasn’t the damage.

It was that she hadn’t even fought back.

She hadn’t used magic, hadn’t lashed out, hadn’t screamed. She was just walking. And they jumped her like she was nothing.

His fingers curled into fists. The wood beneath his palms creaked under the strain.

Silco noticed. Of course he did. He always noticed. But he didn’t speak. His attention stayed on her, thumb still tracing circles.

Felicia broke the silence with a venomous whisper. “This city’s rotting from the top down.”

Connol said nothing. His jaw was clenched, hand resting protectively atop Violet’s blanket, as if shielding his newborn daughter from the world.

Vander’s voice, when it came, was quiet- but sharp as a blade. “She didn’t even raise a hand.” His gaze was distant, as though staring through the bar. “Didn’t say a word. Just walked. And they still thought they could beat her bloody.”

His fists trembled on the counter. “That’s the kind of peace they’re offering.”

Silco’s eyes flicked toward him. “Starting to see it, are you?”

Vander didn’t answer. But the silence said enough.

His shoulders sagged slightly, breath shuddering out. “I’ve spent half my life pulling people back from the edge. Telling them to wait. To think. To survive instead of strike.” He looked at (Y/N) then, something pained and heavy flickering behind his eyes. “But what do we do when there’s no fight left to stop? When we keep our heads down, and they still come for us?”

(Y/N) looked up. Her voice was quiet, raw. “I didn’t fight because I didn’t want to hurt anyone. Not because I was scared.”

Her gaze dropped again. “Didn’t matter. They just wanted someone to hurt.”

The weight of her words hung in the air. No one had an answer.

Vander ran a hand across his jaw, slow. “This city’s gonna crack,” he muttered. Then, barely audible- “And I don’t know if I can stop it this time.”

The weight in the room pressed against her skin, heavier than the bruises blooming beneath it. (Y/N) stared down into the mug. Herbal. Faintly sweet. Something Vander probably mixed together himself- pain relief, maybe. Or just something warm to hold. Something that made you feel less hollow.

She took a careful sip. The heat stung against her split lip.

The others were still talking. Still shifting around her like a gathering storm. Silco hadn’t moved. His hand stayed firm against her back. Steady. Present.

But even that comfort felt distant. Sharpened by the silence in her chest.

She didn’t want their fury.

Didn’t want Felicia’s wild-eyed rage, or Vander’s coiled grief. She didn’t want Connol’s quiet worry, or Silco’s unreadable stillness.

She just wanted them to stop looking at her like this was something new.

It wasn’t.

Pain had followed her since childhood- persistent, predictable, a shadow stitched into her every step. There was always someone bigger. Someone crueler. Someone who needed to remind her she didn’t belong.

This wasn’t new. It was just more of the same.

She didn’t want pity. Or promises. Or rage that would burn everything down.

She wanted peace.

She took another sip of her drink, hands trembling slightly, and said nothing.

Silco leaned in, voice low against her ear. “Do you want to go upstairs?”

She didn’t answer right away.

But eventually, she nodded.

He rose first, then reached for her gently, helping her stand without a word. He didn’t hold her- just offered the support, and let her decide how much she needed.

They didn’t look back as they left.

The climb upstairs was slow- not just from pain, though it still lingered with every step- but from the weight in her chest. A hollow sort of gravity.

She didn’t speak. Didn’t lean on him. Just walked.

Silco didn’t press. He kept close. Always within reach. But didn’t touch her unless she faltered. He walked with a kind of quiet restraint, as if every instinct told him to pull her in- but he knew she needed space more than shelter.

The door closed behind them with a soft click.

Inside, the room welcomed them in silence. Dim neon light filtered through worn curtains. The scent of the day- dust from the mines, candle wax, and faint smoke- still clung to the air.

(Y/N) didn’t stop moving. She crossed to the window, cloak slipping from her shoulders and falling where it may.

She didn’t pick it up.

She sank into the window seat, flicked her fingers, and summoned a small flame.

It sparked, sputtered. Her hand trembled.

She clenched her jaw, tried again.

This time, the fire steadied. She lit the cigarette between her lips and leaned back, exhaling smoke toward the cracked pane. The breeze drew it out slowly, like breath finally let go.

Silco stood near the door, watching.

She looked hollow.

Not broken. Not weak. Just… dimmed. Like the fire in her chest had drawn back behind old walls. Her hands trembled around the cigarette. Blood dried like rust along her bandages.

She didn’t try to hide it.

She didn’t say a word.

Silco stepped forward- slowly, deliberately- and knelt beside her, one arm resting on the windowsill. He tilted his head, studying her profile, but didn’t speak right away.

“Talk to me,” he said at last, his voice low, nearly lost beneath the hum of the Undercity outside.

(Y/N) didn’t answer. She kept her gaze fixed on the distant glow bleeding through the cracked glass- the Undercity’s fractured light, flickering like something half-remembered. Smoke curled from the cigarette between her fingers. Her silence stretched, brittle.

“I’m just tired,” she said finally. “Tired of pretending it doesn’t hurt.”

Silco swallowed, jaw tensing. She wasn’t talking about the bruises. Not really.

She drew in another breath of smoke, slower this time. “People always look at me like I’m strong. Like I can take it.” Her voice wavered, then steadied. “And I can. But it’s starting to feel like that’s the only reason I’m still here.”

Her eyes dropped to her bandaged hands, and her voice cracked.

“To take it.”

He didn’t speak. Just reached out, fingers brushing hers as he gently took the cigarette from her grip. She let it go without a word. He crushed the ember into the ashtray, then stood, pulling her carefully to her feet.

She blinked up at him, caught off guard- but didn’t pull away when he wrapped his arms around her. Not tightly. Not to shield or protect. Just close. Like he was anchoring her, grounding her in something real.

“You’re not here just to endure,” he murmured into her hair. “Not to me.”

Her hands gripped the front of his shirt before she could even think of it, her face pressing into the warmth of his chest. His heartbeat, steady beneath her ear, became the only rhythm she could hold onto. The scent of smoke and iron clung to him, familiar, oddly soothing.

Silco said nothing more. He just held her, patient and still, while her body trembled quietly in his arms.

She tried to breathe. Not cry. Not break. But it was hard. The bruises on her ribs and hands still throbbed beneath her skin, but the worst pain lived deeper- in the place that never got the chance to heal.

Her voice, when it came, was almost too quiet to hear.

“I wish it was different.”

His arms tightened, just slightly.

“I know.”

“I wish I didn’t have this magic,” she whispered. “Wish I didn’t have to hide it. Didn’t have to be afraid of it. I wish I could fight back without making things worse. I wish we weren’t always hunted. Like prey in our own streets. I just…”

Her breath hitched. “I just want to live like normal people.”

Silco didn’t respond right away. His thumb moved slowly over her back, quiet and steady.

“Normal’s a lie,” he said eventually, his voice rough. “But freedom? That’s worth everything.”

She gave a shaky exhale, her cheek brushing the warm skin above his collarbone. Her eyes were heavy now.

“Feels like we’ll never have it.”

“We will.” His voice shifted- firmer now. Not idealistic. Certain. “Not tomorrow. Not soon. But one day. I’ll make sure of it.”

She didn’t argue. She didn’t have the strength.

Instead, she let herself lean into him, her body slowly releasing the tension it had carried all day. Her heartbeat slowed, syncing with his. If she couldn’t have peace, at least she had this. Him. The quiet safety of his arms.

The exhaustion caught up all at once. Her breath warmed the hollow of his neck as her grip loosened- not from retreat, but from surrender.

Without a word, Silco shifted, guiding her toward the bed. She didn’t resist. Just followed, limbs heavy with the weight of it all.

They slipped under the thin blanket, the only light coming from the dim Undercity glow through the window. She curled into him instinctively, her head on his chest, her hand tucked between them like she was trying to keep something safe.

Silco wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close until there was no space left between them. His legs tangled with hers, and he rested his chin gently on the top of her head.

It wasn’t the first time they’d fallen asleep like this. But something about tonight felt heavier. Closer.

Not just comfort. Not just need.

Recognition.

He didn’t say it, but she felt it in every breath, every touch, every heartbeat: I see you. I won’t let go.

Her body softened in his arms. Her breathing slowed.

Still scarred. Still whole. Still his.

And in the faint hum of Zaun’s restless night, they drifted off. Two souls bound together in the dark, held fast by something stronger than all the things trying to break them.

Time passed.

Not all at once. Quietly. Gradually.

The bruises faded- from her skin, then from her routine. Her hands healed. The ache in her chest took longer. But even that began to dull- softened by warmth, by routine, by Silco’s constant, quiet presence.

And Violet grew.

From a bundle of soft blankets and curious eyes to a sharp, babbling toddler who could clear a room with a single shriek and charm it again with a crooked grin. She toddled through the bar on unsteady legs, fearless. Felicia stayed one step behind. Connol three steps ahead, trying to catch every fall.

She became The Last Drop’s heartbeat. Even the roughest regulars melted when she approached with sticky hands and wide eyes. No one said no- not even Silco, who would scowl as she climbed into his lap, then let her stay anyway, a hand gently steadying her back.

(Y/N) began working fewer shifts in the mines. At first, it was just a few missed mornings. Then it became habit. She helped Vander behind the bar, swept the floors, restocked the shelves. Quiet work. Grounding work.

She said it was to help out. But they all knew better.

It was the Enforcers. She was avoiding them. Avoiding herself, maybe. The edge of what she could do- what she might do, if pushed too far.

Vander never asked questions. Just passed her a towel and a crate to lift.

And Silco?

He didn’t say much. But he was always near.

She felt it in the way his hand brushed hers when he passed a bottle. The way he leaned in close when the bar was loud, voice low, a flicker of humor in his eyes. How he watched her, always. Not possessive- present.

The world didn’t get easier. But it got smaller. Closer.

The city still tried to claw peace from their hands- but they held onto it anyway. Nights at The Last Drop had quieted. Less yelling now. Fewer brawls breaking out in dark corners. The fire hadn’t gone out, but it burned lower, steadier, like the amber light spilling across the bar’s worn wood.

The Undercity hadn’t changed. It was still raw. Still scarred. But something beneath it had settled.

Maybe it was Violet, growing fast and fierce, commanding a room with just a look- Felicia’s look- while perched on a hip and sucking juice from a chipped cup. Maybe it was the way Vander and Silco had finally stopped talking past each other.

They hadn’t always seen eye to eye. Too many nights had ended with slammed doors and clenched jaws- Silco all edge and conviction, Vander slow-burning with old weight and weary patience. But something had shifted. Not just in the room, but between them.

(Y/N) saw it first.

The way they leaned closer during late-night talks, voices low as the bar emptied out. Vander no longer shutting Silco down the second Piltover came up. Silco, surprisingly, actually listening- pausing, considering. Like he’d finally realized not every battle needed to be waged in fire.

Maybe it was understanding. Or maybe it was, again, Violet.

She’d changed everything.

Hard to talk about revolution when a toddler was dragging around a chewed-up mug, insisting it was “hers.” When her tiny feet echoed across the floorboards, scattering dust motes in the lamplight.

So when Silco spoke of the future now, he didn’t say now. He didn’t say soon.

He said eventually.

And Vander, once immovable in his pacifism, didn’t dismiss it out of hand anymore. Just nodded. Quietly. Said things like, “Maybe. Someday. When she’s old enough to run if she has to.”

(Y/N) had overheard them once- stood in the doorway, unseen, as Vander cleaned out his pipe behind the counter. Silco leaned nearby, arms folded, eyes on the wall.

“We can’t keep takin’ hits like that,” Vander muttered, jaw set. “They come down here like they own the place.”

Silco didn’t bristle. Didn’t grin. Just replied, low and even, “We won’t. Not forever.”

Vander wiped his hands on a bar towel. “I’m not about to light a fire I can’t put out.”

Silco nodded. “I’m not asking you to.”

A beat passed. Then Vander looked at him- really looked at him- and said, “But we’ll be ready when it comes.”

That was all. No shouting. No threats. Just a shared promise, spoken like a quiet oath.

Not today… Not yet. But one day.

(Y/N) stepped back from the doorway, heart heavy in that strange way- full of knowing. Not afraid. Just aware. The world would shift again. That was inevitable.

But not while Violet was still tugging on pant legs and chasing flecks of light like they were treasure. Not while mornings were still soft and slow, Silco brushing past her in the kitchen, his fingers grazing her back, his voice low and familiar.

“Let her be little,” he’d murmur. “Just a while longer.”

And Vander would nod. And they’d wait.

They’d build.

Time, as it does, slipped forward without asking.

Violet turned four. A blur of questions, fast feet, and sharper opinions. She mimicked everyone- Felicia’s sass, Vander’s sighs, even Silco’s scowls (to his quiet dismay). She perched on barstools like she owned the place. Vander even carved her a little wooden step to stand behind the bar, though she mostly used it to sneak sips from mugs when no one was looking.

And then, one morning, Felicia walked into the bar with Connol trailing nervously behind her, hands wringing.

“Well,” she announced, hands on her hips. “Looks like the baby bin wasn’t a waste after all.”

(Y/N) nearly spit out her tea. “You mocked me for keeping that thing.”

Felicia smirked, rubbing a hand over her belly. “Yeah, well. Maybe you’re good for something after all.”

Silco didn’t say much about the news of the new baby.

But he watched.

Watched Felicia move with a kind of defiant ease, even when the weight of it slowed her down. Watched (Y/N) make space again- pulling the bin out of storage, folding tiny clothes with a strange, wistful look in her eye. Watched Violet mimic it all, dragging around a spare bottle like she was training for something.

Spring came fast. And with it- so did the baby.

The bar cleared out quickly. Regulars were shooed off. Towels boiled. Water warmed. Ren showed up right on time, muttering, “You lot breed like rats in winter,” while rolling up her sleeves.

(Y/N) stayed with Felicia through the pain, Connol at her side, Vander hovering in the doorway. Silco didn’t pace this time- just stood by the window, hands behind his back, breathing like it hurt to do it wrong.

And then the cry came.

Sharp. Fragile. Real.

Everyone stilled.

Ren wrapped the baby carefully, then looked around. “Well?” she said. “Who’s first?”

Felicia, exhausted but smiling with that same smug pride, didn’t hesitate. “Give her to Silco.”

Ren raised an eyebrow. “You’re serious?”

“Vander named Violet,” Felicia said, leaning into Connol. “It’s his turn.”

Silco froze. Looked to (Y/N). She gave him the softest nod.

So he stepped forward.

Ren guided his hands under the baby’s head. He held her like she might vanish. Small and warm and impossibly new.

She was wrinkled and red and making soft, wet noises- but her hair…

Silco stared.

Fine, pale fuzz. Blue. So faint it was barely visible. But unmistakable.

“She looks like…” he started, stopped. Swallowed. “Powder.”

Felicia blinked. “You mean the color, or-?”

He didn’t look up. “I don’t know. It just fits.”

(Y/N) leaned close, gazing at the newborn. “It does,” she murmured. “It really does.”

Felicia smiled faintly. “Then Powder it is.”

The name stuck- odd, but perfectly hers.

And life moved on.

When Powder started walking (and then sprinting, and then climbing everything), Felicia and Connol got restless. The bar was safe, yes, but they needed more. The mines, for all their danger, offered steady work.

“We’re not vanishing,” Felicia promised one morning, Powder on her hip, Violet tugging on her coat. “Just a few shifts. Keep things balanced.”

Connol added quickly, “We’ll be around. Just not always underfoot.”

Vander frowned- he always did when someone went underground- but he didn’t stop them. He just nodded.

And that left them- Vander, Silco, and (Y/N)- as the keepers of the Undercity’s most chaotic duo.

Violet, sharp and loud and entirely too clever, claimed a booth as her throne and demanded pastries as taxes.

Powder… Powder was stranger. Quieter. She wandered more. Spoke to herself. Built towers out of bottle caps and knocked them over to study the fall.

And Silco, of all people, shadowed her like a silent guardian. He never said why.

But he always caught her before she fell.

It started gradually.

Silco began keeping her within his line of sight- subtle, instinctive. Even while buried in planning or half-snarled conversations with smugglers, his gaze would flicker toward her. A quiet “no” and a hand on her shoulder was enough to pull her away from dangerous corners. Sometimes, if he was deep in one of his journals, he’d lift her onto the stool beside him without a word. Powder would climb up too, wide-eyed, watching his pen move like it was casting spells.

(Y/N) noticed it first.

The way Powder drifted toward Silco, no matter how crowded the room was. The way she’d tug at his coat until he looked down, then silently lift her arms to be held. And the way Silco- sharp, precise, always in control- would let her crawl into his lap without protest, wrapping one arm around her as she fiddled with the buttons on his vest like they were treasure.

It was disarming. And a little bit adorable.

One afternoon, (Y/N) found him slumped in the back booth of The Last Drop, half-asleep. Powder was curled up against his chest, her small fingers hooked into the edge of his vest. His hand rested over her back, thumb moving slowly in quiet circles. She leaned against the doorframe, watching for a moment before breaking the silence.

“You didn’t cuddle me like that when we were little.”

Silco cracked an eye open, unimpressed and half-drowsy. “You didn’t drool in your sleep.”

(Y/N) snorted and stepped closer, brushing a strand of blue hair out of Powder’s face.

“She’s got you wrapped around her tiny, sticky fingers, y’know.”

“She’s unpredictable,” he muttered. “Like a bomb with a smile.”

“And you love it.”

He didn’t argue. Didn’t even try.

And as (Y/N) watched him shift just enough to pull the blanket a little higher over the girl in his arms, something warm and aching settled deep in her chest.

The Last Drop had always been a place of smoke and whispers- rebels meeting in corners, laughter shared over bruised knuckles and bitter liquor. But lately, the air had started to change. The whispers were louder. Plans took shape in the shadows. Smuggling routes reopened. Piltover shipments vanished, and the Enforcers never knew where to start looking.

The Undercity was stirring.

And at the center of it all stood two men: Vander, still carrying hope like a torch, and Silco, burning with something far more volatile. They didn’t agree on everything- rarely did- but they had found rhythm again, like bones remembering how to move.

(Y/N) watched from the edges.

Because she remembered what came of getting too close to that kind of fire. A sheriff dead. Ten people turned to dust. Her magic crackling out of control. The way the city looked at her afterward- not like a girl, but like a weapon that might go off again.

No one spoke of it anymore. Not Vander. Not Felicia. Not even Silco.

But she hadn’t forgotten.

So while they pushed forward- Vander meeting with people at dawn, Silco vanishing into alleyways and fixer dens- (Y/N) stayed behind.

Not because she was afraid.

Because she couldn’t let herself become that again.

So she looked after the girls.

Violet was seven now- quick-footed and fierce, with scraped knees and a sharp tongue. She climbed faster than most runners, had already started asking questions too big for her age.

Powder, at three, was quieter. Sloppy, brilliant, always tinkering. She'd pull apart broken tech just to rebuild it into something entirely new- and entirely unpredictable. More than once, Vander had flinched when her latest invention sparked to life.

(Y/N) was their constant.

She packed lunches. Cleaned up cuts. Told them stories when the nights grew long. Her rebellion wasn’t with fire and fists anymore. It was in keeping the people she loved intact while the world tried to wear them down.

One night, Silco came home late. His coat was torn at the shoulder, dried blood crusted on the sleeve. He stepped into the bar and stopped.

On the couch, (Y/N) lay curled with both girls half asleep across her- Violet stretched over her legs, Powder tucked under her arm. She looked up, eyes tired but soft.

“Don’t ask,” she said before he could speak. “They ran themselves ragged.”

Silco crossed the room and crouched beside them, his hand brushing over Powder’s hair, then Violet’s arm. His eyes, usually so guarded, flicked to (Y/N), darker than usual.

“You’re keeping them safe.”

“I have to,” she murmured.

He didn’t answer. But the thought hung there between them, heavy and unspoken.

And who’s keeping you safe?

(Y/N) didn’t need him to say it. She just reached out, brushing her fingers along his cheek, whispering- “I’m still here.” before carefully picking up the girls, and making her way up stairs.

The bar was full later that night. Shoulder to shoulder with the ones who mattered- runners, smugglers, chemists, old fighters with iron in their bones. You could feel it in the air. Something was coming.

Upstairs, (Y/N) and Felicia stood over the sleeping girls.

Violet had begged to stay up and “help with planning,” eyes shining. Powder had clung to her half-broken toy like it would anchor her. (Y/N) tucked the blanket in around them both, brushing their hair back with a hand that lingered too long.

“I don’t like this,” she said quietly as they stepped into the hall.

“I know,” Felicia replied.

Downstairs, the tension pressed against the walls like a held breath.

Vander stood tall at the center, arms crossed, jaw set. Silco was beside him, leaning slightly forward, hands clasped behind his back, speaking low.

No heat. No fight.

Just resolve.

When the time came, Vander raised a hand.

The room fell silent.

“We’ve been patient,” he said, voice clear and steady. “We’ve followed their rules. Tried to build something real in the cracks they left us.”

A few voices murmured agreement.

“But patience hasn’t bought us peace. It’s bought bruises. Blood. Fear.”

He swept the room with his gaze.

“And every time we let them walk our streets like they own ‘em, we tell our children this is all they’ll ever have.”

(Y/N) stood at the back with Felicia, arms crossed, shadows curling around her like second skin.

She didn’t speak.

She just listened.

Vander’s voice sharpened.

“So we’re taking it back. No more waiting. No more silence. If they want to walk our streets- they’re gonna have to bleed for it.”

Cheers rippled across the room, building slowly.

Then Silco stepped forward.

His voice was quiet. Precise. Cold.

“We hit them where they’ll feel it. The bridge. That’s where they hold power over us. That’s where they watch us- control us. So that’s where we remind them we’re not beneath them.”

Heads nodded. Plans took root.

And in the flickering light, (Y/N) stood still.

Watching. Remembering. Holding the weight of fire in her chest- and refusing to let it burn her again.

Vander lifted his hand to calm them. “We’ve got numbers. We know that bridge better than anyone. We fight smart. I’ll lead it.”

The bar erupted.

Chairs scraped. Bottles clinked. A half-dozen people surged forward, shouting their loyalty, their hunger for retaliation.

But not (Y/N).

She didn’t move. Not even a twitch. Her arms stayed folded across her chest, lips a thin line. Heart pounding behind her ribs like it was trying to run.

She got it. Really, she did. That righteous fury- they wore it like armor. And part of her wanted it, too. To burn hot. To burn back.

But all she could think about were two small girls asleep in the room upstairs… And the last time she’d let her magic answer violence with more of it.

Felicia stood near the wall, arms crossed, looking worn down to the bone. She glanced over, voice barely a whisper above the chaos. “You good?”

(Y/N) didn’t answer. Her eyes were locked on the center of the room. On Vander, solid as ever, holding the weight of the whole damn Undercity on his back. On Silco- quiet, sharp-eyed, unreadable.

She murmured, more to herself than anyone else, “I don’t know if this is the right way. But I think they’ve already decided.”

The meeting bled into the night, the bar slowly emptying until only low voices and the smoke of half-burned cigarettes remained. A plan had been made. A date.

Three months.

The bridge.

It still felt far.

But not far enough.

(Y/N) sat alone in the booth by the window, untouched drink in front of her, eyes distant as the Undercity’s green glow shimmered through cracked glass. Vander’s voice rumbled somewhere behind the counter. Silco’s lower, quiet, murmuring something to a smuggler near the back.

She barely heard them.

All she could think about… were the girls.

Powder would be four in two weeks. Gods. Four. She used to be a quiet bundle wrapped in a frayed blanket- Silco had held her once, stiff and unsure, like she might shatter. Now she was a walking whirlwind, inventing things from nothing but wires and junk.

And Violet- eight. A spitfire with scraped knees and fire in her veins, fierce as Felicia, stubborn as Vander. She looked at (Y/N) like she hung the stars when she helped her tie her boots or sound out long words in dog-eared books.

They weren’t hers. Not really.

But they were.

And now there was a war coming.

Not a whisper. Not a theory. A date. A choice.

She looked down at her hands. Scarred. Capable. And shaking.

Not from fear. Not exactly.

But because she knew what this path cost.

She heard a chair scrape back and looked up just as Silco approached. His coat was still draped over one shoulder, his expression unreadable, though the shadows beneath his eyes were darker than usual.

“You didn’t say anything,” he said as he slid into the booth across from her.

(Y/N) held his gaze. Steady. “Didn’t seem like there was much room for second thoughts.”

Silco tilted his head, studying her. “You don’t agree?”

“I don’t think it matters,” she said. “You’ve already decided.”

Her voice wasn’t bitter. Just tired.

Silco didn’t argue. Just leaned back, fingers tapping against the table’s edge. “You’re thinking about them.”

“Always.” Her voice softened. “Powder wants a new toolbelt for her birthday. Violet’s been asking for boots like Vander’s.”

She smiled, sad, faint. “They don’t know what’s coming.”

Silco went quiet. Long enough that the silence almost felt like an answer.

“Neither do we,” he said finally. “Not really.”

“But you’ll still go.”

“I have to.”

“I know.”

They sat there, still and silent, the weight of three months stretching out between them like a lit fuse.

Then- “Promise me something,” she said, eyes locked on his.

Silco straightened. “Anything.”

“If this falls apart,” she said, low and sure, “make sure you are safe.”

His eyes darkened- not from coldness, but something heavier. Fiercer. “I will.”

“I’ll stay behind,” she added. “With the kids. I won’t fight. Not this time. I’m not letting them wonder where I went.”

He reached across the table, his fingers brushing hers. “You won’t lose what you built,” he said quietly. “Not if I can stop it.”

She nodded, throat tight. And squeezed his hand back.

Powder’s birthday came faster than expected.

The Last Drop still hummed with the tension of what was coming. But that day… that day, she didn’t let it touch them.

She slipped out early, arms full when she returned- scraps of cloth in soft colors, sweets from the docks, a small mechanical toy she’d bartered for with a vendor who owed Felicia a favor.

Most wouldn’t notice the changes in the bar. But the ones who mattered? They would.

Ribbons of powder blue and pink, twisted with wire, hung along the stair rail. A booth had been cleared- mismatched dishes, a crooked cake Vander swore wasn’t terrible, and two paper signs marked in shaky handwriting: VIOLET and POWDER.

Violet was the first down, barefoot and wide-eyed. “Is that cake?”

“Patience, firecracker,” (Y/N) grinned, scooping her up. “Birthday girl’s not even here yet.”

Felicia followed, Powder half-asleep on her shoulder, hair sticking out like she’d wrestled a static storm. Her fist still gripped a screwdriver.

“Happy birthday, Powpow,” (Y/N) whispered, lifting her carefully.

Powder blinked. “Is that… a cake?”

“Told you!” Violet beamed.

The party was quiet, small, warm. The best kind. Powder opened her little pile of gifts- buttons, gears, a satchel just her size, and a handmade goggle strap from (Y/N) that lit up at the clasp.

“Now you look like a real inventor,” she teased, ruffling her hair.

Powder beamed and threw her arms around her neck.

Across the room, Felicia met her eyes. A look passed between them. Quiet. Thankful.

(Y/N) just nodded and held Powder tighter.

She didn’t forget Violet either- slipping her a box wrapped in old newspaper with boot laces dyed her favorite color.

“Not your birthday,” she said with a smirk, “but being a big sister’s hard work.”

Violet grinned, tackled her in a hug.

The day passed in soft bursts of joy- chalk drawings on the bar walls, Powder tinkering with her new tools, Violet staging wild games in the back room.

For just a while, nothing else existed.

No war. No countdown. Just them.

Later, when the girls were asleep upstairs- bellies full, faces sticky with frosting- Felicia pulled her into a long hug.

“You’re too good to us,” she murmured.

“You’re my family,” (Y/N) whispered back. “I’d do it all again.”

Felicia sniffed. Laughed softly. “Don’t say that too loud. Might end up with another kid.”

“God, no.”

But she laughed too.

It was Powder’s day.

And (Y/N) made sure it was a good one.

Even with the clock still ticking.

The days had started to blur. Since Powder’s birthday, time had shifted- tilted on its axis. What used to feel like months now passed in weeks. Weeks collapsed into days. Now, the revolution was close enough to taste, and (Y/N) felt every second of it like a noose pulling tighter around her throat.

She kept moving. That’s how she managed it.

She cleaned up after the girls, swept the bar floors, restocked shelves, re-fastened loose nails. She fixed Violet’s boots in the mornings, helped Powder organize her new toolbelt, double-checked the locks at night. Always busy. Always doing. Because the moment she stopped- even for a breath- something in her chest cracked open.

She avoided Silco more than she wanted to. Slipped out of the room when he came in. Kept her replies short when he asked questions, her gaze lowered, never lingering. It wasn’t anger. It wasn’t distance. She loved him- god, she loved him. But something in her gut had gone wrong. A slow, sick churn that wouldn’t leave her.

It was the same feeling she’d had before the last sheriff fell. Before every loss she hadn’t seen coming.

Everyone else seemed ready. The Undercity buzzed with tension, with quiet coordination. Weapons hidden. Escape routes mapped. Vander kept a layout of the city splayed across the back room table. Silco paced over it with sharp eyes, memorizing the paths like scripture. They were prepared. They believed.

And she wanted to believe with them.

She knew their reasons were real. She knew they were fighting for something better. But that didn’t stop the pit in her stomach from growing each time she walked past Vander bent over plans, or Silco murmuring to the others, fire catching behind his words.

At night, when the bar quieted, she sit awake in the dark listening to the soft sounds above- Powder’s breathing, Violet’s snoring- and wondered whether she’d ever hear them again once the smoke cleared.

One night, she stood at the window long after the lights were out, arms wrapped tight around herself. The city glowed that familiar, sickly green in the distance.

She didn’t hear him until he spoke.

“You’re avoiding me.”

His voice was soft. Not accusing- just... true.

(Y/N) flinched. Closed her eyes.

“I’m scared,” she admitted, barely a whisper.

Silco stepped closer, not crowding her, but close enough that she could feel the heat of him.

“Of the fight?” he asked.

She shook her head. “Of what it’s going to take.”

Silco was quiet. Then, low and sure- “It’s already taken everything. This is the only way we get it back.”

She didn’t argue. Just turned her gaze back to the window, watching the city pulse.

“I just want them safe,” she murmured. “That’s all I care about now.”

He nodded once. “Then stay with them. No matter what.”

She turned finally, looked at him fully for the first time in days.

“You’ll come back?”

There was a pause. A long one. Then-

“…I’ll try.”

Not a promise. Just a truth.

It had to be enough.

…Dawn came too fast…

The Undercity held its breath beneath the pale, grey light, every alley and window draped in anxious silence. No birds. No whistles. No drunken laughter. Just boots, gear, metal. War at the door.

Inside The Last Drop, the air felt frozen in place. Violet and Powder sat on the stairs, wide-eyed and quiet. Not babies anymore. They understood enough.

(Y/N) knelt in front of them, steadying her voice even though her hands trembled.

“Just another day,” she whispered. “That’s all. You’re staying with me, doors locked, windows tight. We stay quiet, okay?”

Violet nodded slowly. “Is something bad happening?”

(Y/N) smoothed her hair and kissed her brow. “No. Not to you.”

Then came the footsteps.

Silco. Vander. Felicia. Connol. Benzo. Others, too. Armed, armored, resolved.

(Y/N) stood and moved to Felicia first, hugging her tight. “Watch Connol’s back.”

“Always,” Felicia murmured.

She hugged Connol  and Benzo, firm and quick. Then Vander- no words, just a shared embrace, the kind that said everything without needing to speak.

And then Silco.

He stood still, but the moment she reached for him, his arms wrapped around her in an instant. No hesitation. It was the kind of embrace that tried to memorize- her scent, her warmth, the way her magic thrummed just beneath her skin.

She pulled back just enough to look at him, then leaned in, kissing him deep and desperate, her fingers curled in his coat, the other at his jaw. When she broke the kiss, her lips ghosted his ear.

“You better fucking come back.”

His breath hitched. Just a little. Then he rested his forehead against hers.

“I will,” he whispered. “If only so you don’t burn the city down looking for me.”

She huffed a shaky laugh. Didn’t let go until she had to.

And then- like that- they were gone.

She locked the door behind them with trembling fingers and turned back to the girls. Wrapped her arms around them and held on.

Outside, the Undercity marched to war.

Inside, she kept the light on…

The silence was wrong.

It wasn’t peaceful. It was bracing. Even the air held still, like the city was exhaling for the last time.

(Y/N) did everything she could to distract the girls. Old books. Chalk drawings. Gentle songs hummed through clenched teeth. But her hands kept shaking.

And she knew.

Then- the pounding. A heavy, urgent fist at the door.

She ran. Unlocked it.

Benzo stood there, blood on his shirt, breathing ragged, eyes wide with horror.

“They knew,” he gasped. “They were waiting- we walked right into it- too many-”

She didn’t wait to hear the rest.

“Stay with the girls,” she ordered, already pulling on her coat.

“Auntie-!” Violet cried.

“Don’t follow me,” (Y/N) barked. “Stay with Benzo.”

She was gone before they could answer.

Smoke painted the sky as she ran- choking, black smoke that billowed across rooftops. The closer she got to the bridge, the thicker it became.

She arrived to chaos.

Screams. Steel. Bodies. Blood slicking the cobblestones. Enforcers everywhere. Zaunites, too- some fighting, some fallen.

No time to think.

Magic surged to her hands, golden light cracking from her fingers. She fought like she was made for it. Threw herself over downed allies, cast fire toward enemies, keeping them at bay.

Then she saw him- Vander, bloodied and using his gauntlets to fight with every muscle. She cut her way to him. No words. Just movement. Two parts of the same storm.

And then-

“Auntie!!”

The voice cut through everything. High. Familiar. Too close.

She turned, eyes wide.

Violet stood just beyond the fight, Powder clinging to her side.

“Benzo let them leave?” she breathed, fury flashing hot.

She darted to them.

“Where are they?!” Violet sobbed. “Where’s Mama? Dad?!”

(Y/N) looked to Vander.

His eyes dropped- just once- toward a heap of rubble nearby.

And she knew.

She followed his gaze.

Felicia lay crumpled, blood on her temple, Connol’s hand still wrapped around hers. Still. Silent.

Gone.

Violet froze. Shaking.

And everything inside (Y/N) shattered.

Violet threw out an arm, shielding Powders eyes with her fingers. “Don’t look,” she whispered, her voice breaking. Her hands trembled.

(Y/N) was there in an instant, scooping them both into her arms and holding them tight- tighter than she’d ever held anything. Powder buried her face against her collar, breath hitching with quiet sobs. Violet clung to her shirt like it was the only thing keeping her upright. (Y/N)’s knees nearly gave beneath her, but she didn’t fall. Not yet. She took a shaky step back from the wreckage, her eyes stinging, her lungs burning. She couldn’t cry. Not here. Not now.

She held her girls.

Then Vander was beside her, silent for a moment, his hand landing heavy on her back.

“Take them,” he said, his voice raw, thinned by smoke and grief. “Please. Get them home. Somewhere safe.”

She looked at him- just once- and nodded. No argument. No questions. Just turned and carried them away.

One on each hip. Powder crying soft against her neck. Violet stiff and silent, arms locked around her like a vise. The walk back to The Last Drop felt endless. Every step rang in her bones.

She slammed the door shut behind them, bolted it, barred it. Dropped to her knees with both girls still wrapped in her arms. Held them like the world was trying to take them from her.

But in the back of her mind-

Silco.

She hadn’t seen him. Not once.

And the thought of him- alone, somewhere in the smoke, maybe bleeding, maybe worse- was already beginning to split her down the middle.

Vander didn’t return until long after nightfall.

His footsteps dragged through the rear hall like dead weight. His coat was half-burned, his hands red and raw, crusted with blood. The door creaked shut behind him, too final. Like a war had ended, but no one had won.

(Y/N) was on the floor by the hearth, sleeves rolled, hands trembling as she dabbed soot from Powder’s cheek. Violet sat close, arms around her knees, eyes fixed on the door.

Vander stood there, silent.

She looked up at him, heart already sinking. “…Well?”

He didn’t answer right away. Just stared at her. Through her. Like he hadn’t left the bridge at all.

“I couldn’t find him,” he said finally. The words scraped out of him. “He’s gone.”

Her chest tightened.

Vander’s expression twisted. “He disappeared. Coward.”

She flinched.

“He let it all fall apart.” He began to pace- restless, agitated, jaw clenched so tight it looked like it hurt. “I trusted him. And he ran.”

(Y/N)’s hand froze, cloth paused at Powder’s temple. That didn’t sound like Silco. Not the Silco she knew. But she could see it- the rage in Vander’s eyes, the betrayal coiled beneath his skin.

Now wasn’t the time to argue. The smoke was still clinging to them all.

So she said nothing. Just nodded once. Quiet. Then turned back to the girls.

Powder sniffled. Violet leaned closer, a protective arm around her sister’s shoulders.

(Y/N) dipped the cloth again, wiped the soot away gently, one streak at a time. As if she could clean the night from their skin. As if it would undo any of it.

Vander sank into a nearby chair with a heavy groan and didn’t say another word.

The silence that followed didn’t feel like peace. It felt like a wound.

Silco’s name wasn’t spoken again.

Not by Vander. Not by Benzo. Not even by the few who survived and had once stood beside him.

But (Y/N) searched.

She helped move bodies from the bridge- limbs stiff, clothes torn, faces she’d known. She found Connol’s body. Felicia’s. Wrapped them herself. But Silco wasn’t there.

She checked every face, every coat. Her hands shook with each one she turned over. Hoping. Dreading.

He wasn’t dead. Not there. Not anywhere.

He was just- gone.

And somehow, that was worse.

Then, one night-

She was settling the girls into bed. Powder was half-asleep in her lap, Violet rubbing at her eyes and pretending not to yawn.

A slam. The front door.

She flinched, head snapping toward the stairs.

Vander. Soaked through. Water dripped from his hair, his boots. He didn’t say a word. Didn’t even look at her. Just stormed through, fists clenched, leaving muddy footprints in his wake.

She watched him disappear into the back, heart thudding.

She didn’t ask. Not yet.

But something in her chest sparked. A small flame. One that hadn’t burned in a long time.

Weeks passed. Then months… Years…

Life reassembled itself in jagged pieces.

Violet grew louder, bolder, angrier. Powder withdrew into wires and gears, her grief funneled into creation.

Mylo came crashing into their lives a year later- mouthy, reckless, impossible to ignore. Vi challenged him before she even learned his name. Claggor followed soon after, calm and steady, the quiet gravity that kept the chaos from flying apart. And Ekko, sharp and fast, found a home with Benzo. He and Powder bickered constantly, but they always came back to each other.

The family grew. And (Y/N) stayed. Because someone had to.

The Last Drop softened. Fewer fights. More meals. It became a place worth protecting.

But the ache didn’t go.

Silco’s absence lingered in the corners. In the shadowed streets. In the quiet before sleep.

She never stopped loving him. She tried to. But she didn’t.

She stopped asking Vander. The look in his eyes when she did- the guilt, the anger- was enough.

So she let it go.

Or tried to.

The Undercity healed, if slowly. Vander swore off war, true to his word. The bridge remained, scarred and quiet. A marker of what had been lost.

Violet turned sixteen. All fire and fury, taller now, stronger. Protective to a fault.

Powder turned twelve. Brilliant. Strange. Her inventions more creative, even if most didn’t work, her mind was faster than ever. Her little fort in the kids room was a workshop of ideas no one else could follow.

And (Y/N) was still there.

Still waiting.

Still loving someone who might’ve died on a bridge or walked away from everything.

This was their world. Fragile. Messy. Real.

But somehow- it was still theirs.

A/N: Hello everyone! This is the second to last chapter of my Young Silco Fic! I'm going to be making another one after, though. A sequel, that continues the fic. This chapter has smut in it, so ill put some warnings before the smut, so it can be skipped :}

Ember in the Dark pt.10

Young!Silco x Fem!Reader

pt.9 - pt.11

pt.1

Warnings: MDNI 18+, Explicit sexual content, Mild blood and injury, Police brutality/Enforcer violence, Verbal degradation/Humiliation, Emotional vulnerability, Possessive behavior.

Word Count: 9079

Summary: After a quiet moment caring for baby Violet, (Y/N) finds Silco brooding alone, burdened by his fear of breaking the fragile things he’s come to care for. Their emotional connection deepens as (Y/N) reassures him of her love and trust. Back at her room, that tenderness unfolds into their first time together- soft, reverent, and slow, with Silco treating her with overwhelming care. Her magic flares with emotion but stays controlled, mirroring the depth of their bond. In the morning, subtle marks of their night together spark teasing from friends, and Silco's quiet protectiveness becomes even more apparent. The day continues with routine- (Y/N) working in the mines while Silco walks her partway, worried but trusting her strength. But on her way home, (Y/N) is ambushed by Enforcers. Brutalized and humiliated, she chooses not to retaliate with magic, still haunted by what happened the last time. Bloodied and shaken but defiant, she returns to The Last Drop.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The bar was still and quiet again, the low creak of floorboards the only sound as (Y/N) gently patted Violet’s back. The baby let out a small, satisfied burp against her shoulder, then went limp in the way only newborns could- completely trusting, utterly unaware of the chaos and love she’d been born into.

“Alright, little fire cracker,” she murmured softly, brushing her nose against Violet’s forehead. “Let’s get you back to your mom before you start thinking I’m your favorite.”

Felicia was already awake and half-dressed when (Y/N) eased open the door to the guest room. She looked groggy, hair a mess, but her expression softened immediately at the sight of Violet.

“Gimme,” she whispered, arms already outstretched.

(Y/N) chuckled and transferred the baby gently into her waiting hands. “She’s warm, fed, and already burped. I’m spoiling her for you.”

Felicia smirked sleepily. “You’re spoiling me, you mean.” She glanced down at her daughter, cradling her close. “Thanks.”

“Always.”

They shared a quiet look, something warm and wordless passing between them. Then (Y/N) turned, brushing her hands down the front of her borrowed shirt and heading for the door again.

“I’m gonna go find the brooding menace,” she said over her shoulder.

Felicia rolled her eyes. “Tell him if he doesn’t come back soon, I’m making him take a night shift with Violet.”

(Y/N) snorted and slipped out.

The streets of the Undercity were hushed, still heavy with morning fog and the metallic tang of distant factory steam. Most of the Lanes hadn’t stirred yet. There was a kind of peace in it- a rare, stretched-out quiet that blanketed the grime and noise like a breath held just under the surface.

(Y/N) walked with practiced ease through the Undercity, eyes sharp despite the stillness. She knew him. Knew how he vanished when emotions crept too close to the surface. He wouldn’t have gone far. Silco liked proximity- liked to be close enough to protect, even when he needed distance.

She found him on one of the upper walkways that overlooked the Lanes, hands braced on the rusting railing, shoulders hunched against the damp. His vest was still wrinkled from earlier, and his sleeves were rolled to the elbows, catching the pale light.

He didn’t turn when she approached. Didn’t have to.

“You always gonna keep brooding like this,” she said softly, “or is it just when I hand you a baby?”

His shoulders lifted with a slow inhale, then dropped again. “You didn’t just hand me a baby,” he said, voice low.

(Y/N) moved to stand beside him, her fingers curling around the railing. “No?”

“You handed me… innocence,” he said after a moment. “Something soft. Fragile.” He looked down at his hands. “Something I could break.”

She watched him for a beat. “But you didn’t.”

He finally looked at her then. His eyes were tired, but alert. Thoughtful. “Not this time.”

(Y/N) leaned sideways, letting her shoulder brush against his. “You won’t break her. Or me.”

Silco was quiet for a long moment. “You’re good with her.”

“She’s easy to love,” she murmured, then looked up at him. “So are you.”

He gave her a long, unreadable look. His throat bobbed, but no words came.

(Y/N) stepped in front of him, slipping her arms around his waist, fingers gripping the back of his shirt. “You don’t have to say it back,” she whispered, head against his chest. “I know.”

His arms came around her slowly, settling against her back like he’d been holding in the urge. His chin dropped to the top of her head.

“I do love you…” he said quietly. “You just say it better.”

(Y/N) smiled against his chest. “I love you too, Sil.”

His arms tightened.

They stood like that for a while, the silence comfortable, the city still.

Eventually, he pulled back just enough to look at her. “You’re going to ruin me,” he said, a rare softness breaking through the steel of his voice.

“You were already ruined,” she teased gently. “I’m just making you tolerable.”

That earned her a rare, real laugh- quiet and low, but genuine.

He leaned in and kissed her, soft and slow, no urgency- just a kind of reverence, like he didn’t know what he’d done to deserve this moment but wasn’t about to waste it.

When they finally parted, he looked down at her with something close to awe.

“…If I ever lost you,” he murmured, “I don’t know who I’d become.”

(Y/N) reached up, brushing her thumb along his jaw. “You won’t.”

Silco held her gaze for a long time, then nodded once, like he was making a promise to himself more than her.

“Come on,” she said, lacing her fingers through his. “Let’s go home. Felicia said if you don’t show up soon, she’s putting you on night duty.”

He groaned softly, but didn’t protest as she led him back toward the warmth of the bar- of home.

The walk back was quiet.

Not heavy, not tense- just quiet. A kind of hush reserved for early mornings and moments where the world felt like it had stopped turning just for them.

The bar was dim when they returned. A few soft clinks from Vander in the kitchen, the distant creak of Connol’s footsteps above, but otherwise it was still. Home, in all its chaotic, grimy glory, was resting. So were they.

Silco followed her upstairs without a word, his hand loosely in hers.

When they reached her room, (Y/N) pushed open the door, letting the familiar scent of worn linen and smoke-sweet air rush out to greet them. It wasn’t a large space, but it was hers- warm, slightly cluttered, the windows cracked open just enough to let the city’s breath in.

She shrugged off her boots, and climbed into her bed. Silco slid in beside her, his vest undone, sleeves still rolled. Neither of them said much as she pulled a cigarette out, and lit it with a quick flicker of her magic, the faint sulfur glow lighting her features in amber.

She took a slow drag, then passed it to him.

Silco accepted it between two fingers, his hand brushing hers as he inhaled. The smoke curled in the air above them, trailing toward the ceiling like a shared secret.

They lay back on the bed, shoulders just touching, the world outside forgotten for now.

(Y/N) turned her head, watching the lazy way his chest rose and fell. He looked softer like this- less of the sharp angles, less of the weight he wore so carefully. Just Silco. Just hers.

He offered her the cigarette again, and she took it with a small smile, letting the smoke settle into her lungs before passing it back.

“You ever think,” she murmured, voice low, “about how different things could’ve been if we met somewhere else?”

Silco exhaled, slow and quiet. “If we met anywhere else,” he said, voice rough around the edges, “you wouldn’t have stayed.”

(Y/N) arched a brow. “Oh?”

He glanced sideways at her, a ghost of a smirk playing on his lips. “You like things messy.”

She huffed a laugh. “Maybe I just like you messy.”

He let that hang in the air for a second before reaching over to stub out the cigarette in the small dish on her nightstand.

Then, without a word, he shifted closer, wrapping one arm around her waist and pulling her flush against him. His fingers spread wide against her back, warm and grounding. She settled against his chest with a quiet hum, her hand sliding up to cup his face.

Silco leaned into the touch almost imperceptibly, his lashes lowering as she brushed her thumb over his cheekbone.

(Y/N) leaned up slowly, their noses nearly touching, and pressed her forehead to his.

“I really do love you,” she whispered. “You know that, right?”

His breath caught.

He didn’t say it back- not because he didn’t feel it, but because her words settled too deep, cracked something open in him every time. Instead, he kissed her. Soft and slow, a promise more than passion.

When he pulled back, he didn’t go far.

He tucked his face into the crook of her neck, his breath warm against her skin, and just… stayed there. Let himself exist in her space, unguarded.

(Y/N) held him, her fingers tracing lazy lines up and down his back, anchoring him without needing to speak.

The silence between them stretched, comfortable and close. (Y/N)’s fingers stayed tangled in the fabric of his shirt, absently toying with a loose thread while Silco breathed steadily against her throat.

Then, slowly, he began to move.

Soft kisses, barely-there at first, pressed along the curve of her neck. One at the hollow of her throat. Another just beneath her jaw. Gentle, deliberate.

(Y/N) let out a quiet breath, tilting her head slightly, exposing more of her neck without hesitation. Her eyes fluttered shut, lips parting as her body instinctively leaned into him.

Silco smiled against her skin, something slow and unhurried. He didn’t speak- didn’t need to. The way her body responded to him, the quiet hum she made when his lips found the spot just beneath her ear, said more than enough.

His hands began to move too. One slipped up along her waist, fingers tracing the edge of her shirt, while the other settled on the small of her back. His touch wasn’t rushed- it was reverent, like he was committing every inch of her to memory.

His kisses grew bolder, warmer. He nipped lightly at her skin, then soothed the spot with a tender kiss, his hand sliding beneath the hem of her shirt to feel the heat of her skin beneath.

(Y/N)’s breath caught- just for a second- before she exhaled slowly, her hands moving to curl around his shoulders, pulling him closer.

“Silco…” she whispered, barely audible.

He didn’t answer- not with words. Instead, he kissed the spot just below her ear again, then trailed down, slow and deliberate, his fingers drawing lazy circles against the dip of her spine.

Silco’s breath warmed against her skin as his kisses deepened, no longer just soft brushes of affection but something heavier, something hungry. His lips dragged along the slope of her neck, then parted- his tongue flicking against her pulse point before his teeth grazed it.

(Y/N)’s fingers tightened in the back of his shirt, a soft sound escaping her throat.

He latched onto the curve where her neck met her shoulder, sucking gently, then harder, leaving the beginning bloom of a mark beneath his mouth. A low hum of satisfaction vibrated in his chest at the way she melted into him, body pliant and warm.

Her hand slid up into his hair, fingers weaving through the strands at his nape. She gave a slow, deliberate tug- not too hard, just enough to make him groan softly against her throat.

Silco’s grip on her waist tightened in response, pulling her closer, pressing his body flush to hers. He kissed his way down the line of her neck, pausing to nip at her collarbone before soothing the sting with a languid swipe of his tongue.

“Mm…” (Y/N) breathed, head tilting back further, exposing even more of her throat for him without even thinking. “You’re insatiable.”

He smirked against her skin, his voice low and rough. “Only with you.”

His mouth returned to her neck, this time biting a little harder, enough to leave another mark. She gasped softly, her fingers curling tighter in his hair, tugging again. He growled- quiet and pleased- and let his hand wander higher beneath her shirt, splaying wide across her bare back.

(SMUT START)

(Y/N) shifted against him, her thigh brushing his, and the contact sent another ripple of heat through both of them.

She let out a soft whine that filled the quiet space between them- barely audible, but impossible to ignore, a soft plea without words. Silco paused, his breath catching, and pulled back just enough to look at her.

Her eyes were half-lidded, cheeks flushed, lips parted. She looked utterly undone already- and he hadn’t even started yet.

His hand moved slowly to her cheek, thumb brushing her skin, reverent. “Are you sure?” he asked, voice hushed, as though he didn’t want to disturb the stillness of the moment.

(Y/N) nodded, gaze steady despite the heat burning beneath it. “I want you,” she whispered. “I want this.”

And that was all he needed.

He kissed her again, slower this time, lingering- like a promise.

His fingers trembled faintly as he began to undress her, not from fear but from care, from the weight of how much this meant. Every layer peeled away was met with another kiss- her shoulder, the dip beneath her collarbone, the soft line of her stomach. His mouth never strayed far from her skin, like he couldn’t bear to lose contact.

When she was bare before him, he just looked at her for a moment, breath catching. Not with lust- but with awe.

“You’re…” he started, then stopped, shaking his head slightly. “I don’t have the words.”

She reached for him, flustered and shy despite the intimacy, and whispered, “Then don’t speak. Just… Be here with me.”

Silco nodded, and only then did he begin to undress himself, piece by piece, until there was nothing left between them but breath and the quiet hum of wanting.

He leaned over her, one hand cupping her cheek, and began to trail kisses down her body- slow, deliberate, worshipful. Across the hollow of her throat. The curve of her breast. The soft line of her ribs. He kissed every inch of her like she was sacred, like he’d never get another chance.

(Y/N)’s breath hitched, her fingers tangling in the sheets as heat bloomed across her skin. “Silco…” she whispered, voice catching.

He glanced up at her from where he knelt beside her, eyes heavy with affection and something deeper- something tender, trembling, but true.

“I love you,” she said again, voice breathless.

His lips found her sternum, just over her heart. “I know,” he murmured. “I love you too...”

He felt it... How deep their love for one another went.

In the quiet shiver of her breath beneath his touch. In the way her hands reached for him, unsure but eager. In the trembling curve of her mouth as she bit back another whimper.

Every part of her called to him- and he answered not with haste, but with care.

Neither of them had ever done this before- but in that moment, nothing about it felt wrong. It was soft. It was vulnerable. It was theirs.

And he made sure she knew- every kiss, every caress, every breath he gave to her- she mattered.

She always had.

Silco hovered above her, one hand cupping her cheek, the other trailing slowly along her side- just feeling her. His touch was featherlight, reverent, and she leaned into it instinctively, already flushed and trembling beneath him.

Her breath hitched again when his fingers slipped lower, tracing along her inner thigh. He watched her closely, gauging every flicker of emotion in her eyes. He wasn’t in a rush- he wouldn’t be. Not with her.

“You’re alright?” he asked, voice barely more than a whisper, warm and low.

(Y/N) nodded, her hand coming up to curl around his wrist. “Yeah,” she breathed. “Just… nervous.”

He leaned down, kissed the corner of her mouth, her cheek, the hinge of her jaw. “We’ll go slow.”

She relaxed beneath him, her thighs parting just slightly as he moved lower, his fingers brushing carefully against her.

The first touch was gentle- tentative, almost. His fingers explored with a softness that made her shiver, each movement slow and deliberate, designed to learn her. To show her she was safe.

(Y/N) let out a quiet, involuntary gasp, her hips shifting, and he stilled.

“Too much?” he asked, pausing.

She shook her head quickly, breathless. “No- keep… keep going.”

His fingers moved again, this time with more purpose. He circled her slowly, coaxing her open with each careful stroke. She whimpered, her hand fisting in the sheets, the sensation unlike anything she’d ever known. It wasn’t just pleasure- it was trust, devotion, the quiet worship written in every movement of his hand.

She felt her body reacting to it, soft and warm and aching in the best way. He kissed her again- slow and steady- his mouth working to distract her from the tension that was gradually building inside of her.

When she was ready enough, he slid a finger inside her- carefully.

Her breath caught.

Silco immediately slowed, lips against her temple. “Its okay,” he whispered. “Just breathe.”

She did, trembling a little as her body adjusted, the unfamiliar stretch prickling with a sharp edge that quickly faded under his careful pace.

He kissed her through it. Murmured to her. Let her hold onto him as tightly as she needed to.

Another finger followed, gentle and slow, and her body responded- welcoming, shifting, clinging.

“You’re doing so good,” he murmured against her skin, voice raw with sincerity. “So perfect.”

(Y/N) clung to him, gasping softly as the ache turned to heat, as her body melted into the rhythm of his hand and the grounding weight of his touch.

And all the while, Silco stayed close- his forehead pressed to hers, his breath mingling with hers, the only thing on his mind being her and the way she bloomed under his touch.

He’d never known anything like it. Never felt anything like this.

He was falling. Already had. And here, with her, wrapped in the warmth of something slow and sacred, he let himself fall deeper.

She was breathing hard now, her body trembling beneath his, flushed and open. Silco never took his eyes off her- watching the way her lips parted, the way her lashes fluttered, how her hand stayed tangled in his hair like she couldn’t bear to let him go.

He slowly eased his fingers from her, giving her a moment to breathe, and leaned in close again, pappering her face wih soft kisses.

One kiss on her cheek. Another at the bridge of her nose. A third at the corner of her mouth. And then one on her eyelid as she shut her eyes, breath catching like she might cry- not from pain, but from how tender it all was.

She opened her eyes slowly to find him hovering above her, gaze burning but soft. His voice came out lower than before, like he was afraid to break the moment.

“Are you ready for me?” he asked, barely above a whisper, his hand smoothing along her thigh.

Her lips quivered as she nodded. “Yes,” she breathed, her voice broken on a soft whine. “I want you.”

And god, how that undid him.

Not the lust in her voice, but the trust. The way she looked up at him like he was hers- like he’d always been.

Silco leaned in, kissed her again, slower than before, trying to pour everything into it- his nerves, his reverence, his love.

Then, carefully, he positioned himself, hand steadying her hip. He watched her face the entire time, made sure he could see every reaction- every little wince, every breath.

And when he finally began to push in, he did it with excruciating care, like he might break her if he went too fast.

(Y/N)’s breath hitched, her brow furrowing with the unfamiliar pressure, and he paused, stilling instantly.

“Breathe for me,” he murmured, brushing hair from her face. “You’re okay.”

She nodded, eyes glassy. “Just… don’t stop.”

He kissed her again, her temple, her jaw, her lips- anchoring her through every inch. His hand stayed on her hip, the other threading between their bodies to find hers, soothing her, grounding her.

When he was finally fully inside, he didn’t move- not right away. He just held her. Pressed his forehead to hers, hands trembling slightly from how hard it was to stay still.

“You’re mine,” he whispered. “Only mine.”

(Y/N) smiled through a shaky exhale, her arms wrapped tightly around his back.

“I’ve always been yours.”

Silco moved with care- agonizing care.

Every inch of his body was taut with restraint, every thrust slow, shallow, measured. He watched her face the entire time, searching for the smallest hint of pain, of discomfort, but all he found was her- flushed and gasping, her lashes damp, her mouth trembling as she tried to hold herself together.

He was trying too.

It took everything in him to keep his pace slow, his grip gentle. His instincts begged him to lose himself in her completely, but she came first. Always. Especially now.

“You’re okay?” he asked again, his voice low and hoarse, forehead pressed to hers.

(Y/N) nodded, breathless. “Yes- yes, I’m okay.”

Her voice cracked with the pleasure beginning to bloom beneath the ache, her arms tightening around his back. She shifted slightly, hips rising to meet his, and a small, broken moan slipped from her lips.

That was when it happened.

The first spark.

Tiny, harmless, but unmistakable- like static dancing across her skin. Silco stilled instantly, his eyes flicking to where her hand had gripped the sheet. The faintest golden light crackled at her fingertips, flickering before vanishing as quickly as it came.

“…(Y/N),” he murmured.

She looked up at him, eyes wide- and glowing, just barely. A soft, otherworldly gold shimmered in her irises, light blooming at the edges. Her magic was responding, pulled to the surface by emotion, sensation, connection.

“I- I’m okay,” she whispered quickly, her voice shaking. “It’s just- just reacting. I’ve got it. I’ve got it.”

He didn’t move, didn’t breathe, his hand brushing gently down her side. “Are you sure?”

She nodded again, more urgently this time, one hand moving up to cradle his face. “I won’t hurt you. I’d never hurt you.”

Her thumb traced his cheek as her power slowly ebbed, the sparks withdrawing, the glow fading from her eyes like the tide pulling back into the sea. She steadied her breathing, grounding herself, and kissed him.

It was messy, half-desperate, but full of control- an anchor for them both.

Silco exhaled shakily against her mouth. “You’re… incredible.”

And then, slowly, he started moving again.

Still gentle, but with more rhythm now, more intent. He kept one hand firmly on her hip, the other laced with hers, grounding her as her magic pulsed just beneath the surface, humming along her skin.

Her moans grew softer, higher, laced with gasps as each movement sank deeper. Her nails dug into his back- not too hard, just enough to feel. Her body was learning the rhythm of him, easing into the heat and stretch with each careful thrust.

Silco leaned down, lips brushing her ear. “You feel like you were made for me.”

(Y/N) whimpered, her eyes fluttering shut. “You’re everything,” she whispered, voice catching.

And in that moment- her body beneath his, her magic singing in the air, her heart laid open and offered without hesitation- Silco knew:

He would burn the world down before he let her go.

The pace between them shifted, gradually, as the room filled with soft, shared breaths and the rustle of linen beneath their tangled bodies. Silco’s self-control was still ironclad, but now it was laced with urgency- a slow build, a deep need tempered by care.

His hips moved with more purpose, each thrust hitting a little deeper, a little harder, but never enough to overwhelm. Just enough to make her arch into him, to make her gasp quietly with every pass of friction, every deliberate roll of his hips against hers.

(Y/N) was losing herself in him- breathless, trembling, overwhelmed in the best way. And god, she wanted to cry out his name. To let the world know who she belonged to, who was unraveling her like this.

But she couldn’t.

They weren’t alone.

A few rooms down, the others were sleeping- or just waking up. And the last thing she wanted was for Felicia or Vander to come knocking because they’d heard too much.

So instead, she wrapped her arms tighter around him, pulling him impossibly closer, and buried her face in the crook of his neck.

Silco faltered just slightly when he felt her breath there- hot and shaky. Then came the bite.

She bit down gently, muffling her moan against his skin, her teeth scraping the sensitive flesh of his throat. He shuddered hard, a growl rumbling low in his chest, barely contained.

His rhythm stuttered for a breath before it resumed- deeper, now, driven by the way her mouth clung to him, the heat of her breath trembling against his pulse.

“You’re going to kill me,” he whispered, voice frayed, lips brushing her ear.

(Y/N) let out a breathless laugh against his throat, the sound soft, shaky. “Then die with me,” she whispered, her voice so quiet it was almost lost in the haze of their shared heat.

Silco kissed her- messy, desperate- and pushed deeper, his movements growing more intense as he lost himself in the sensation of her. Every gasp she swallowed against his neck. Every tremble of her magic just under her skin. Every heartbeat they shared like a drum against their ribs.

They were quiet, but their bodies spoke in ways words never could.

And in the safety of that room, in the hush of a world that had never been kind to either of them, they found something that was.

They were close- so close.

Silco’s restraint had begun to unravel, thread by thread, as her body tightened around him with every desperate, choked whimper she tried to stifle against his skin. His pace had lost its careful rhythm, hips moving rougher now, deeper, driven by something raw and primal and devoted. It wasn’t about control anymore.

It was about need.

He was panting against her neck, the sounds escaping him now- moans, low grunts, broken curses he couldn’t bite back in time. His fingers dug into her hips, holding her steady as he drove into her, their bodies slick with heat, breath tangled, hearts pounding out of sync and then together again.

(Y/N) was shaking beneath him, her thighs trembling around his waist, her magic flickering again at her fingertips as she tried so hard to keep it all contained. Her moans were soft but urgent, desperate, and they only pushed him further.

Then- 

“I- Silco-” she gasped, breath hitching, “I’m close- god, please-”

His head dropped to her shoulder, breath hot and ragged. His pace stuttered, hips rolling faster now, deeper, chasing both of their highs with abandon.

“Where,” he rasped, voice nearly broken, teeth clenched, “where do you want me-?”

He was right on the edge, barely holding on, and her answer- her sweet, gasped whimper- wrecked him.

“Inside,” she breathed. “Want you inside- want all of you- please…”

His body froze for the briefest second, her words crashing through him like fire licking up his spine.

And then something snapped.

A sound rumbled deep in his chest- more growl than breath. Possessive. Claiming. His thrusts turned almost frantic, but never careless, driven now by that single, burning thought: She wanted him. All of him. She chose him.

And his mind flickered- suddenly, violently- to the memory of her earlier that day.

Cradling Violet against her chest. Humming softly, swaying on tired feet, so gentle, so instinctively maternal it had shaken something loose in him. Seeing her like that- his girl holding new life like she was born for it- he hadn’t been able to stop thinking about it.

Now, that image burned in his mind, layered over the sound of her moaning beneath him, the feeling of her nails digging into his back, the pulse of her magic humming against his skin.

And she wanted his seed.

His hips jerked, rhythm faltering as the growl in his chest deepened. “You want that?” he whispered, nearly wrecked. “You want me like that? Want me to fill you?”

“Yes,” she whimpered, her arms clinging around his shoulders, legs tightening around his waist. “Please, Silco- want you- need you-”

That was it.

He buried himself as deep as he could go, his body trembling as he came with a ragged, low moan against her throat- inside her, just as she asked, giving her everything she wanted. Everything he had.

He held her through it, his arms trembling around her, breath broken and uneven. And even as the haze began to settle, his lips found her cheek, her shoulder, her collarbone- pressing shaky, reverent kisses against sweat-damp skin.

“Mine,” he whispered hoarsely. “You’re mine.”

And she was.

She always had been.

The afterglow clung to the room like smoke- warm and quiet, the kind of silence that hummed with meaning. Their breathing was still uneven, the air thick with the heat they’d stirred into existence.

Silco rested against her for just a moment longer, his forehead pressed gently to her temple, his fingers drawing light, shaky patterns on her hip. He didn’t want to move- not yet- but when he finally shifted to pull out, it was careful, slow.

Still, (Y/N) whimpered softly beneath him, the sensation making her whole body twitch with lingering sensitivity.

“I’ve got you,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to her shoulder.

He was already moving- slipping off the bed, reaching for his pants and dragging them on with clumsy fingers. His steps were fast but quiet as he disappeared down the hall, urgency etched into every movement.

She stayed curled on the bed, dazed and flushed, thighs still trembling from how hard it had hit her. Her fingers curled into the sheets, grounding herself, breath still shaky even as her magic pulsed low and quiet under her skin.

(SMUT END)

He returned in what felt like seconds, cloth in hand, and knelt beside the bed. His touch was gentle, reverent as he cleaned her up- careful not to hurt her, never rushing. He soothed his way through it with small kisses to her thigh, to her stomach, murmuring soft things under his breath like he was trying to chase away any trace of discomfort.

When he was finished, he wiped himself down with what was left of the warmth in the cloth, then tossed it aside without a thought. He climbed into bed beside her immediately after, pulling the blanket over them both as he gathered her into his arms like she was something precious. Something breakable.

She didn’t hesitate- her body moved instinctively toward him, curling into his chest, her fingers bunching in the fabric of his waistband as her head tucked beneath his chin. She was still trembling faintly, the edges of her magic flaring and fading like little echoes of everything they’d just shared.

Silco held her tighter.

His fingers pressed trailing up and down her back, grounding her, anchoring her. And his other hand came up to cup the back of her head, fingers weaving into her hair.

He looked down at her with eyes softer than he usually allowed himself to wear. No mask. No posture. Just him, and the way he saw her- his girl, his flame, his constant.

“You’re shaking,” he murmured, lips brushing her hair. “Did I push you too much?”

(Y/N) shook her head against his chest. “No. Just… don’t let go yet.”

“Never,” he said immediately, fiercely. His arms curled tighter around her, and he kissed her forehead, lingering there like he could seal the words into her skin.

They stayed like that for a long time, bodies pressed close, breath syncing again.

(Y/N) had stilled after a while, her breathing growing slow and deep as her body finally gave in to exhaustion. She’d fallen asleep on his chest, completely bare, her arms still loosely wrapped around him, legs tangled with his, her face tucked beneath his jaw like she belonged there.

Silco didn’t move.

Didn’t dare.

His hand drifted slowly up and down her back, just the faintest touch of his fingertips against her skin- memorizing her, grounding himself in the warmth of her body against his. She was soft and warm and real in a way that left him breathless, even now. Her hair was slightly damp against his collarbone, and every exhale from her nose ghosted along the base of his throat, lulling him into something deep and quiet.

It was still early- the sky beyond the window barely touched with gray light, the city not yet awake. The bar was quiet, save for the distant creak of old wood settling and the occasional murmur of wind outside.

He could hear his own heartbeat. Steady. Loud. Content.

(Y/N) shifted slightly in her sleep, pressing even closer, her leg slipping over his hip, her bare chest flush against his. Silco stilled for a moment, his breath catching.

She was so warm. So trusting.

He liked the feeling of her skin against his. He liked the weight of her- unapologetically naked, clinging to him like he was the only solid thing in the world. And maybe, in some small way, he was.

His hand came to rest just beneath her shoulder blade, his thumb brushing slow, aimless circles into her skin. Every so often, she twitched in her sleep- faint, subconscious reactions- and every time she did, he was there, holding her steady, letting her know she was safe.

She had given herself to him. Her body. Her trust. Everything.

And now she slept like she had nothing to fear. Like she knew he’d keep her safe.

Silco tilted his head, pressing a lingering kiss to the top of hers, lips brushing the crown of her hair. He closed his eyes for a long moment, letting the peace settle over him like a second blanket.

He’d never had this before- this quiet, this closeness. No performance. No violence. No deals struck in dark corners.

Just her. And her breathing. And the way she fit perfectly into the curve of his body.

He let himself relax beneath her, his hand never leaving her skin, and whispered so quietly it was barely audible:

“…Mine.”

And with that, he lay still- watching over her until the morning sun crept slow and golden through the cracks in the window.

The hours passed slowly, golden light filtering through the cracked window, warming the tangle of sheets and limbs that lay in its path. The bar downstairs had begun to stir- quiet footsteps, soft conversation, the occasional clink of glass- but none of it reached the sanctuary of (Y/N)’s room.

Silco hadn’t slept, not really. He’d rested, eyes closed, his breath steady, but part of him stayed anchored in the feeling of her curled around him. Still bare, still warm, still tucked into the space between his neck and shoulder like she belonged there.

She shifted slightly as the sun climbed higher in the sky, her fingers flexing against his chest. A low hum escaped her throat, and then her voice, soft and hoarse from sleep:

“…You’re still here.”

Silco smirked, eyes still closed. “Where else would I be?”

She let out a sleepy little laugh, one arm tightening around his waist as she nuzzled deeper against him. “Could’ve vanished like a ghost,” she murmured.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he replied, voice low and sincere.

That made her pause, just long enough to lift her head slightly and press a lazy kiss to his collarbone. Then, still half-asleep, she whispered, “Wanna take a bath with me?”

Silco cracked one eye open, brows lifting ever so slightly. “…Now?”

She nodded against his skin. “Mhm. Don’t want to go alone.”

He let out a soft, amused exhale, brushing a hand down her spine. “You just want an excuse to stay close.”

“Is it working?”

A pause. Then:

“Yes.”

She grinned against him before finally rolling out of bed with a quiet groan, the sheets slipping down her bare back. Silco’s gaze followed her, slow and appreciative, as she stretched lazily, muscles still loose from sleep- and from him.

(Y/N) reached for one of his shirts that had ended up on the floor and tugged it over her head. It hung off her frame, the collar wide and slipping off one shoulder. She didn’t bother with anything else- just padded across the room barefoot before turning to glance at him over her shoulder.

“You coming?”

Silco stood, running a hand through his hair before nodding. “Always.”

They cracked open the door cautiously, peering down the hallway to make sure it was clear. A few voices murmured from downstairs, but no footsteps echoed on the upper floor.

(Y/N) grabbed his hand and tugged him out with her, the two of them slipping quietly down the hall toward the washroom like a pair of teenagers sneaking out after curfew.

She tried to stifle a giggle when his hand settled on her lower back, warm and familiar. He leaned close, lips brushing her ear as they reached the door.

“If Vander catches us, I’m blaming you.”

She grinned. “Please. Vander’s known what this is.”

Silco hummed low in his throat. “Still not interested in the lecture.”

(Y/N) pushed open the washroom door and slipped inside, tugging him in with her before quietly closing it behind them.

“Then let’s not give him anything to talk about.”

Silco raised a brow. “We’re going to be naked and locked in a room together. That ship may have sailed.”

“Mm,” she smirked, stepping toward the tub and turning on the tap. “Then we better make it worth it.”

The bath had been quiet.

Not in a strained way- but in the easy, intimate quiet that followed something sacred. They had slipped into the warm water together, the steam wrapping around them like a blanket, softening the edge of the morning chill. (Y/N) had settled between Silco’s legs, her back to his chest, as he ran a cloth gently along her skin, taking his time. No teasing, no rush. Just care.

She had returned the favor with equal tenderness- fingers threading through his damp hair, cloth gliding along his shoulders, over the lean strength of his arms. The silence between them was filled with nothing but the sound of water and the occasional shift of breath when their hands lingered just a little longer than necessary.

When they finished, they dried off wordlessly- Silco pressing a quick, stolen kiss to her temple before he turned toward the door.

“I’ll see you downstairs,” he murmured, voice still low and warm.

(Y/N) nodded, watching him go before she turned back toward the mirror, wrapping a towel around her body.

She moved to her room with practiced ease- pulling on clean underthings, rummaging through the dresser for clothes, brushing the knots from her damp hair in slow, even strokes. Her body was pleasantly sore in places she hadn’t known could ache, her magic still buzzing low in her chest, like the afterglow hadn’t quite worn off yet.

It wasn’t until she tilted her head to run the brush through the underside of her hair that she caught sight of it in the mirror.

Then another. And another.

“…Oh.”

Her neck- her collarbone, even the top of her chest- was covered in soft, dark bruises. Not harsh. Not angry. But thorough. The ghostly traces of his mouth mapped out across her skin like a constellation only he could read.

She set the brush down slowly, reaching up to gently press her fingers to one of the marks. It didn’t hurt- only made the heat rush back to her face in full force. She had been so swept up in everything that she hadn’t even realized how much of himself Silco had left behind.

The flush on her cheeks deepened, a smile tugging at her lips despite herself.

“Possessive bastard,” she muttered under her breath, but there was no bite to it. None at all.

Her fingertips lingered on one mark, just below her jaw. She stared at it for a long moment, then let out a small breath, lips curling into something soft. Something fond.

She got ready quickly, before making her way down into the bar.

The familiar creak of the stairs gave her away before she even stepped into view, but it was the silence that followed- sharp and sudden- that made (Y/N)’s smirk bloom before she even hit the bottom step.

She’d took care when getting dressed. Her shirt was casual, loose enough to move in, but the collar sat just low enough to give a teasing glimpse of the marks that trailed along her neck and collarbone. Not bold. Not obvious. Just enough.

Enough for him.

When she stepped into the bar, the light caught her just right, and Silco- mid-sip of his coffee- choked.

Not dramatically. Just enough that the mug paused halfway to his mouth and he had to quickly clear his throat, eyes narrowing just slightly as he caught sight of her. His collar was flipped higher than usual, subtly shielding the faint, fading bruises she'd left along the base of his throat.

(Y/N) arched a brow, all innocent as she made her way toward him.

“Morning,” she said smoothly, like nothing had happened, sliding onto a stool at the bar.

Silco didn’t respond right away- just took a deliberately slow sip of his coffee, eyes flicking over her exposed skin with unmistakable heat before settling into something cooler, more composed. But he didn’t fool her.

Not for a second.

His jaw was a little too tight. His eyes lingered a little too long.

She fought the grin tugging at her lips.

Behind the bar, Vander definitely noticed something. He gave them both a side-eye glance over the rim of the glass he was cleaning but didn’t say a word. Yet.

At the booth across the room, Felicia was bouncing Violet gently in her arms, murmuring softly to her as Connol leaned in close, clearly besotted with the baby. Felicia glanced up just in time to catch the very obvious tension simmering between (Y/N) and Silco, and her eyes narrowed.

A slow, knowing smirk tugged at her lips.

“Someone’s walking different,” she said under her breath, mostly to Connol- but loud enough for (Y/N) to hear.

(Y/N) didn’t flinch. She just tilted her head toward Silco, eyes still locked on his.

“Guess you weren’t as subtle as you thought,” she murmured, low and teasing.

Silco’s fingers tightened slightly around his mug, but his expression remained neutral- save for that twitch at the corner of his mouth. “Mm. And here I thought you were the one who enjoyed discretion.”

“Funny,” she said, resting her chin in her hand, her eyes gleaming. “You didn’t seem too concerned with that earlier when you left the marks.”

Vander definitely choked on a laugh this time, turning away before either of them could see his face.

Felicia outright cackled from the booth.

And Silco? Silco just took another slow sip of his coffee.

But the tips of his ears were red.

And (Y/N) sat back in her seat, pleased and glowing, her fingers brushing one of the fading bruises at her throat.

Let them stare.

She had nothing to hide.

The morning settled into its usual rhythm- not without a few lingering smirks and knowing glances, but still familiar. Predictable in the way only chaos can be when wrapped in the comfort of routine.

Felicia shifted Violet from one arm to the other, muttering about leaky bottles and no sleep, while Connol fussed more than necessary, trying to sneak spoonfuls of food toward her between breaths. Vander barked out orders to one of the younger runners, gesturing with a half-eaten piece of bread. The bar was alive again, in its own unique way- half family, half machine.

(Y/N) moved through it like she always did- grabbing her worn satchel, tying her boots, slipping on her usual cloak with practiced ease. The bite of metal, smoke, and earth waited for her in the mines, same as every day. It wasn’t glamorous, but it was hers- her routine, her way to contribute, to stay sharp, to stay moving.

Silco appeared beside her before she could reach the door, already dressed, coat draped casually over one shoulder, his coffee long gone.

“Heading in?” he asked, tone casual- but his eyes were anything but.

She nodded. “Yeah. Just to check in with the others, run inventory. Maybe help the crews down by the collapsed tunnel.” She glanced at him. “I’m not training today.”

His brow ticked slightly. “Everything alright?”

“Yeah,” she said, reaching up to adjust his collar in return- more teasing than necessary. “Just… not in the mood to throw fire around.”

He smirked faintly, but his gaze lingered. “You’ve been pushing yourself hard.”

“I can rest tomorrow,” she said simply, then tilted her head. “Want to come with? Just to walk.”

Silco paused- like the idea surprised him- and then gave a slow nod. “Alright. I’ll walk with you to the office.”

Something warm flickered in her chest at that, and she bumped his arm lightly as they stepped outside together.

The streets of the Undercity were already humming with movement- merchants hauling carts, scavengers bartering loudly in alleyways, children darting between walkways chasing pieces of scrap like treasure. The air was thick with smoke and smog, but it was home.

As they walked, their hands brushed occasionally. Not by accident.

“Y’know,” she said, glancing over at him, “you don’t have to walk me down every time.”

Silco looked at her sidelong, a shadow of a smile playing on his lips. “I know.”

(Y/N) rolled her eyes, but her smile lingered as they turned the corner, the entrance to the mines visible ahead.

Silco walked with her the whole way, boots echoing against the damp stone floor, his sharp eyes scanning the walls like he couldn’t not be on guard.

“You still remember the turns if you end up in the deeper tunnels?” he asked offhandedly.

(Y/N) smirked. “You’re sweet when you’re pretending not to worry.”

“I’m always worrying,” he muttered, but his tone lacked any real sharpness.

They reached the office in no time- an old iron-reinforced room carved into the rock, dimly lit with flickering green and gold lanterns that buzzed faintly. Inside was a scarred desk, stacks of ledgers, worn chairs, and a small iron hook where she always hung her cloak.

She shrugged off her bag and cloak with practiced ease, fingers brushing dust from her sleeves before hanging both neatly in their places. She caught the way Silco watched her in the corner of her eye- how his gaze lingered just a little too long on the exposed curve of her neck now that her cloak was off, on the quiet way she settled into the space like she’d done it a thousand times.

She turned to look at him fully, one brow raised. “You planning on loitering all day?”

Silco stepped forward, closing the distance between them slowly. He didn’t answer right away- just reached out and brushed a strand of hair from her face, his touch warm against her cheek.

Then he leaned down and pressed a soft, steady kiss to her forehead.

It was quick, but it lingered.

Not a promise. Not a goodbye.

Just his way of saying he saw her. Cared for her. Wanted her safe.

When he pulled back, his voice was low but sure. “I’ll see you later.”

(Y/N) nodded, her voice equally soft. “Be careful, yeah?”

He smirked faintly. “Always.”

And just like that, he turned and disappeared down the tunnel, his coat catching the low light before he vanished into the haze of the mines. She watched him go, something warm pulsing beneath her ribs before she turned back to the desk, rolling up her sleeves and getting to work.

The day had begun, it passed in its usual rhythm, familiar in its simplicity.

The mine office was dim and quiet, save for the scratching of her pen across paper and the occasional creak of boots outside the door as workers passed by. (Y/N) checked supply inventories, cross-referenced excavation schedules, marked out the safe zones from the unstable ones. It was tedious work- but necessary. And she liked it. It kept her grounded, kept her from spiraling too deep into the weight of everything else going on above and beneath the surface.

Hours slipped by in the low hum of effort. She fixed a jammed lift schedule, sorted faulty lamp returns, and passed by a collapsed tunnel to give her usual report- though she didn’t go near the deeper parts. Not today. Her magic stayed quiet, humming under her skin, patient.

By the time she finished and looked at the rusted old clock hanging on the wall, it was late. The kind of late where the air in the tunnels started to feel heavier, colder. Most of the crews had already left, the usual noise of hammers and shouting and shifting machinery long since faded.

She let out a soft sigh, rubbing the back of her neck as she stood and stretched. Her muscles ached in familiar places, and a thin layer of dust clung to her pants and sleeves. She grabbed her cloak from the hook by the door, shaking it out with a practiced flick before draping it over her shoulders. Her bag followed- slung across her chest as she ran a hand through her now-tousled hair.

The walk back through the tunnels was quiet. Eerily so. But she was used to it. She made her way toward the entrance of the mines, stepping out into the city. 

The Undercity greeted her like an old friend- distant neon lights glowing in the hazy twilight, the scent of smoke and metal thick in the air. The Lanes buzzed softly in the distance, and as she adjusted her cloak tighter around herself, she found her thoughts drifting forward.

The Last Drop would be warm by now- lit up and alive in its usual gritty way. Violet would probably be asleep upstairs, Felicia most likely slumped in a booth with a drink in hand, and Vander behind the bar telling someone off for trying to cheat at cards.

And Silco…

He’d be there, she was sure of it.

Maybe already sitting at the bar, waiting for her like he did most nights when she came back late. Maybe pretending he wasn’t waiting at all.

A tired smile crept onto her lips as she pushed forward through the streets, heart tugging her home.

Back to the bar.

Back to him.

(Y/N) pulled her cloak tighter, keeping her head down as she moved through the winding streets toward the familiar warmth of The Last Drop. The sound of heavy boots echoed around the corner- Enforcers. Routine, by now. Always watching. Always looking for an excuse.

She didn’t glance up- not really- but one of them caught her gaze anyway. Just a second too long. Just enough.

“Hey!” one of them barked.

She froze.

Four of them broke off from the patrol, boots loud against the cobblestone as they spread out around her, forming a half-circle. Uniforms crisp, expressions smug. The leader- broad, smug, with a baton already half-raised- gestured toward her with a nod.

“Out late, sweetheart?”

(Y/N) didn’t answer. Just lowered her eyes, her jaw tight.

“We’re conducting a search,” another said, already reaching for her bag.

She knew the drill. She didn’t resist. Couldn’t afford to.

She let them pull the bag from her shoulder, dig through it, pat her down with rough, mocking hands. One of them yanked her cloak aside, as if they expected to find contraband hidden in the folds. They didn’t. Of course they didn’t.

Still, it wasn’t enough.

It never was.

“Tsk. Nothing,” the leader said, almost disappointed. “Looks like she’s just another gutter rat wasting our time.”

One of them stepped forward, cracking his knuckles. “Then maybe we remind her who runs these streets.”

She could’ve fought.

Could’ve burned them all down with a flick of her wrist.

But her magic stayed quiet. Her body stayed still. She didn’t move.

She remembered the last time.

The screams. The smoke… 

So she let it happen.

They knocked her down first. A punch to the gut, a boot to her ribs. Her shoulder hit the ground hard, and the stone scraped across her palms when she tried to catch herself. Then the batons came- short, sharp blows meant to bruise more than break, meant to humiliate. Her lip split. Her breath left her in a wheeze.

But she didn’t cry out.

She didn’t give them that.

She curled in on herself, shielded her head, and waited for it to end.

Eventually, it did.

One of them spit at the ground beside her. “Tell your friends in the Lanes to keep their mouths shut.”

They left her there in the alley, blood on her lip, ribs aching, cloak torn at the edge.

For a long moment, she didn’t move.

Then, slowly, she sat up. Her hands shook as she adjusted her bag, slinging it back over her shoulder. She wiped the blood from her mouth with the back of her hand, then pulled her hood up, hiding as much of her face as she could manage.

And then she walked.

Not quickly. Not limping.

Just steady.

Until the glow of The Last Drop came into view.

The noise spilled out into the street, muffled laughter, the low hum of conversation, the scent of smoke and stale beer. Home.

She pushed the door open with one hand, shoulder braced against the frame like her body didn’t want to be held up anymore.

The light hit her first.

Then Silco turned from where he sat at the bar- and froze.

His eyes locked on her.

Blood at the corner of her mouth. Another tear in her cloak. Dirt and ash and bruises painted across her skin.

She stood in the doorway, barely holding herself upright.

“…Hey,” she rasped, like it was nothing. Like she hadn’t just been used as a message.

Ember in the Dark pt.9

Young!Silco x Fem!Reader

pt.8 - pt.10

pt.1

Warnings: Power Imbalance/Oppression, Police Brutality, Mild Violence, Substance use, Pregnancy/Childbirth, Postpartum Exhaustion

Word Count: 7609

Summary: More tensions rise with Piltover as Felicia nears the end of her pregnancy. The group all rally around her, especially when she goes into labor and gives birth to a daughter, Violet. (Y/N) unexpectedly steps into a caretaker role, bonding deeply with Violet and becoming a steady, calming force- especially for Silco, whose growing frustration with the Enforcers is barely contained. As she softens in ways she didn’t expect, Silco begins to see her a bit differently, their relationship deepening through quiet gestures and unspoken trust. With Violet’s arrival, the group finds brief comfort and unity, even as the world outside remains uncertain. Amid it all, (Y/N) and Silco draw closer, finding something worth protecting in each other- and in the fragile new life they’ve all welcomed into Zaun.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The bar had settled into its late-night lull, the hum of conversation reduced to low murmurs and the occasional clink of glass. The air was warm, thick with the scent of cheap whiskey and the faint burn of tobacco.

Felicia sat at the counter, one hand lazily drumming against her stomach. She was showing more now, the curve of her belly undeniable beneath her loose-fitting shirt. Vander stood behind the bar, wiping down the counter with slow, methodical movements, while Silco leaned against the back wall, arms crossed, his ever-watchful gaze fixed on nothing in particular.

(Y/N) slid into the stool next to Felicia, nudging her with her elbow. “Getting real now, huh?”

Felicia huffed, giving a mock glare. “You mean the constant backaches, the swollen feet, or the fact that I can’t even tie my own damn boots anymore?” She sighed, rubbing her temple. “Yeah. It’s real.”

Vander chuckled, setting a glass of water in front of her. “You’re handling it better than most.”

“Handling it,” Felicia repeated dryly. “Sure. Let’s go with that.”

Silco smirked, his fingers tapping idly against his arm. “You say that like it you didnt cause it.”

Felicia rolled her eyes. “Yeah, yeah. Keep being an ass, Silco. We’ll see how smug you are when I make you babysit.”

Silco’s smirk faltered just slightly, and (Y/N) laughed, leaning against the counter. “Oh, that’s happening. No getting out of it.”

Before Silco could formulate a response, the front door swung open, and a few stragglers stumbled out into the street, leaving the place mostly empty aside from their little group. It was quieter than usual- most folks had cleared out early, wary of the increased Enforcer patrols lately.

Vander took a deep breath, tossing the rag over his shoulder. “You all hear what happened in the Lanes today?”

(Y/N) straightened slightly. “What now?”

Vander leaned on the counter, voice dropping just a bit. “Couple of kids got cornered by Enforcers. Supposedly, they were just lifting some food, but instead of scaring them off, the bastards roughed ‘em up. Left one barely able to walk.”

Felicia frowned, shaking her head. “Damn…”

Silco’s jaw tightened, his fingers stilling. “And what did Topside have to say about it?”

Vander sighed. “Same as always. They don’t care. They never have.”

(Y/N) felt the shift in the air, the familiar tension settling over Silco’s shoulders. His frustration had been simmering beneath the surface for months now, each new injustice adding to the weight of it.

Felicia noticed it too. She nudged him lightly with her foot. “Don’t go starting shit, Silco.”

His eyes flicked to her, sharp, but he said nothing.

Vander, watching him closely, exhaled. “Look, I know it ain’t fair. But picking a fight right now? It ain’t the move. We can’t afford trouble.”

Silco scoffed under his breath, but (Y/N) reached out, her fingers brushing against his wrist. It was a small touch, grounding, but enough to make him glance her way. She didn’t say anything, just held his gaze, and after a moment, he exhaled through his nose, tension easing- if only slightly.

Felicia stretched, pushing herself up from her seat. “Well, I don’t know about you all, but I’m heading out before the kid decides to start kicking my ribs in again.”

Vander smirked. “Need help getting to Connol’s?”

Felicia shot him a look. “I’m pregnant, not helpless.”

(Y/N) laughed, and Vander held his hands up in surrender. “Alright, alright.”

Felicia shook her head fondly before heading out, disappearing into the night.

Silco let out a long breath, running a hand through his hair. “One of these days, Vander, your patience with Piltover is going to cost us.”

Vander’s gaze hardened. “And rushing into a fight we can’t win will cost us more.”

The two stared at each other for a long moment, the weight of unspoken arguments lingering between them.

(Y/N), sensing the brewing storm, slid off her stool, looping an arm around Silco’s. “Come on, let’s get some air.”

He hesitated, but eventually let her pull him toward the door, stepping out into the quiet streets of the Undercity- of Zaun. The name still wasn’t fully embraced, but it was catching on. It was something.

(Y/N) leaned against him slightly. “One step at a time, yeah?”

Silco exhaled, his arm tightening around her just slightly. “Yeah,” he murmured. “One step at a time.”

The Lanes were quieter at this hour. The usual chaos had simmered down to a dull murmur, the occasional burst of laughter or clatter of metal breaking the silence. The smell of damp stone, oil, and something vaguely metallic lingered in the air.

(Y/N) walked beside Silco, her fingers slowly sliding down his wrist before settling into his palm. He didn’t pull away. Instead, his grip tightened slightly, grounding himself in the quiet presence of her beside him.

They weren’t heading anywhere in particular, just moving through the Lanes, letting the weight of the conversation in the bar settle.

Silco let out a slow breath, rolling his shoulders. “You ever wonder what it would be like… if Piltover actually gave a damn?”

(Y/N) glanced at him. “Sometimes. But I don’t waste too much time on it.”

Silco scoffed. “Why not?”

She shrugged. “Because it won’t change anything. And thinking about what-ifs just makes it worse.”

He hummed, considering her words. His thumb brushed absentmindedly over her knuckles, though his gaze was distant, fixed on the uneven cobblestone ahead of them. “It’s exhausting. Watching them act like they’re better than us. Letting us scrape by while they thrive off our work. You heard what happened today, and it won’t stop. It never stops.”

(Y/N) squeezed his hand. “I know.”

They walked a bit further in silence, the faint glow of distant street lanterns casting long shadows against the alley walls.

Finally, she spoke again. “You’re not wrong. About any of it.”

Silco glanced at her, waiting.

She met his gaze, eyes steady. “But we both know what happens if you push too soon. We-... I can’t afford to lose you, Silco.”

Something in his expression softened, just barely. He exhaled slowly, dragging his free hand through his hair. “You make it sound like I’m reckless.”

(Y/N) smirked. “Because you are... We all are.”

Silco gave a quiet huff of laughter, shaking his head. “You’re insufferable.”

“And yet, here we are.”

A comfortable silence stretched between them as they continued walking. The Lanes weren’t empty, but the people who still lingered in the streets paid them little mind. A few familiar faces nodded in passing, a silent acknowledgment, before disappearing into the alley’s.

Eventually, they found themselves at one of the higher walkways overlooking the Undercity. From here, they could see the sprawling tangle of buildings, the dim glow of neon signs flickering in the distance. Smoke curled up from the factories, mixing with the ever-present green shimmer of lights.

Silco leaned against the railing, eyes scanning the city below.

“This place deserves better,” he murmured.

(Y/N) rested her arms beside his, close enough for their shoulders to brush. “Then we make it better.”

Silco turned his head toward her, searching her face for something. Eventually, his hand found hers again, intertwining their fingers.

The quiet of the night was interrupted by the rhythmic clatter of heavy boots against the cobblestone.

Silco tensed immediately, fingers twitching against the railing as his sharp gaze flicked toward the source of the sound.

(Y/N) squeezed his hand gently, a silent warning. She pulled a cigarette from her pocket, lighting it with practiced ease before taking a slow drag. The ember flared, casting a brief glow across her face as she exhaled.

“Enforcers,” she muttered under her breath, voice low. “Keep your head down, don’t give them a reason to stop.”

Silco exhaled sharply through his nose, but he gave a subtle nod.

They remained still as the group of Enforcers approached- three of them, two women and a tall man leading the way. Their uniforms were pristine, stark against the grime of the Undercity.

Despite their silence, the Enforcers stopped in front of them anyway.

The man at the front eyed them both, head tilting slightly. “Out late, aren’t we?”

Silco didn’t even try to mask his disdain. “So standing outside is forbidden now too?”

(Y/N) discreetly nudged his side, a subtle reminder not to push too far.

She took another slow drag, exhaling the smoke before responding, “Just out for a smoke.”

The Enforcers didn’t look convinced. One of the women shifted, arms crossing over her chest as she eyed them both.

“Funny,” she said. “Most people down here scatter when they see us coming.”

Silco smirked, voice laced with dry amusement. “And yet, here we are.”

(Y/N) shot him a warning glance.

The tall man studied them a moment longer before stepping closer, looking Silco up and down like he was sizing him up. “Got names?”

(Y/N) rolled her eyes, flicking ash from her cigarette. “Didn’t know names were required to stand in our own city.”

The man scoffed. “Your city?” He glanced at the other two, a smug grin tugging at his lips. “That’s rich.”

Silco’s jaw clenched, but he said nothing. (Y/N) could feel the tension radiating off him, the way his fingers curled slightly against the railing.

The second woman finally spoke up. “We’ll be patrolling this area all night. I suggest you both move along before we find a reason to keep you here.”

(Y/N) nodded, grabbing Silco’s wrist. “Yeah, yeah. We’re going.”

She pulled him away before he could say something that’d make things worse.

The Enforcers watched them for a few more moments before turning and continuing their route, their boots echoing against the stone as they disappeared into the darkness.

Once they were out of earshot, Silco exhaled sharply. “They think they own this place.”

(Y/N) took another drag of her cigarette, her fingers still wrapped around his wrist. “I know.”

Silco glanced down at where she held onto him, his anger still simmering, but beneath it was something else- something quieter.

“…I hate them.” His voice was calm, almost eerily so.

(Y/N) didn’t argue. She just laced her fingers through his again. “I know.”

(Y/N) kept her grip on Silco’s hand as they made their way back toward the bar, her thumb absently brushing against his skin in an attempt to keep him grounded.

“Just let it go for tonight,” she murmured, watching the way his jaw stayed tight, his eyes burning with frustration.

Silco scoffed, shaking his head. “Let it go? You saw them, (Y/N). They stop us for nothing. Just because they can- because no one down here can stop them.” His free hand twitched at his side. “And they think it’s funny.”

(Y/N) sighed, nudging him lightly with her shoulder. “I know. I hate them too, but getting all worked up over it right now isn’t gonna change anything.”

Silco let out a sharp breath through his nose but didn’t argue.

By the time they reached the bar, it was mostly quiet inside- Felicia was gone, and Vander was nowhere in sight. The faint scent of smoke and spilled liquor still lingered in the air, a comforting kind of familiar.

As soon as the door shut behind them, Silco didn’t even hesitate.

He grabbed her wrist and strode toward the bar, tugging her along as he muttered under his breath.

(Y/N) sighed but followed, watching as he grabbed his worn journal from its usual spot behind the counter. He flipped it open, snatching up a pencil before immediately scrawling down his thoughts with quick, sharp strokes.

“They patrol these streets like they’re theirs,” he muttered, writing furiously as he spoke. “They walk through our city and act as if we should be grateful for their presence- like we owe them something.” He scoffed, shaking his head. “Zaun belongs to us, not them. And yet, they still try to keep us beneath their boot.”

(Y/N) leaned against the bar, watching as he continued to scribble down his thoughts. She took another slow drag of her cigarette, letting the moment pass in silence.

Finally, she exhaled, smoke curling between them as she muttered, “You’re gonna run out of pages at this rate.”

Silco paused, glancing up at her. His fingers still gripped the pencil tightly, knuckles faintly white.

“…I need to write it down,” he admitted, voice quieter now. “If I don’t, I feel like I’ll suffocate on it.”

(Y/N) studied him for a moment before nodding, reaching over to grab his half-full glass left on the bar from earlier. She pushed it toward him.

“Then write,” she said simply. “Get it out.”

Silco held her gaze for a long moment before finally relenting. He picked up the glass, took a slow sip, and then returned to his journal.

(Y/N) didn’t push him to stop. She just sat there, finishing her cigarette, keeping him company as he poured his frustration onto the pages.

Vander stepped out from the back, rubbing a towel over his hands, and immediately spotted Silco hunched over the bar, writing furiously. (Y/N) sat beside him, cigarette between her fingers, watching with quiet patience.

Vander sighed. “Alright,” he muttered, tossing the towel onto the counter as he walked over. “What happened this time?”

Silco didn’t look up. “Enforcers,” he said simply, the word laced with venom as he continued writing.

Vander exhaled through his nose, glancing at (Y/N) for clarification.

She rolled her eyes, flicking the ash from her cigarette. “We were just out for a smoke. They decided to stop us and start asking questions.” She shrugged. “Nothing new.”

Silco scoffed, shaking his head. “That’s the problem. It shouldn’t be normal, but it is. They act like they own everything- even the damn streets we stand on.” He jabbed the pencil against the page, underlining something aggressively. “They weren’t even looking for anything. They just wanted to remind us who’s in control.”

Vander frowned, crossing his arms. “You didn’t mouth off too much, did you?”

Silco shot him a look.

Vander sighed again. “I mean it, Silco. We can’t afford to be on their radar right now.”

Silco clenched his jaw but didn’t argue. (Y/N) nudged his foot lightly with hers. “I already got on him about that,” she muttered. “He behaved.”

Vander gave Silco a long, knowing look before shaking his head and grabbing himself a drink. “Good. Let’s keep it that way.”

Silco let out a sharp exhale and finally- finally- set the pencil down. He ran a hand through his hair before rubbing his eyes, the frustration still simmering under his skin.

Vander leaned against the counter, taking a slow sip of his drink. “Look, I get it,” he said after a moment. “I do. But we gotta pick our battles. Fighting every time they piss us off?” He shook his head. “That ain’t winnable.”

Silco muttered something under his breath, but Vander ignored it.

(Y/N) reached over, lightly tapping Silco’s journal with her fingers. “You feel better now?”

Silco studied the pages, his jaw working. After a long pause, he exhaled and gave a small, reluctant nod.

“…Yeah,” he admitted.

(Y/N) smirked, tapping the journal again. “Good. Then drink something and cool off before you start a revolution right here at the bar.”

Vander chuckled at that, though Silco only shot her a dry look before grabbing his glass.

The tension in Silco’s shoulders finally began to ease as he nursed his drink, but (Y/N) could still feel the way his fingers drummed against the bar- a telltale sign that his mind was still running a mile a minute.

Vander watched him for a moment before sighing and rubbing a hand over his face. “Look, I know you hate it, Silco. I do too. But we need to be smart. We can’t afford to stir up trouble, not now.”

Silco scoffed. “Smart would be not letting Piltover walk all over us in the first place.”

(Y/N) shot him a warning look, nudging his thigh with hers. “Silco.”

He exhaled sharply through his nose, but he didn’t push the argument further. Instead, he took another sip of his drink, fingers tightening around the glass.

Vander shook his head, but before he could say anything else, the door to the bar swung open.

Felicia walked in, looking tired but in good spirits, her hand resting on the curve of her growing stomach. She glanced at the three of them, raising an eyebrow. “Why do you all look like you just got chewed up and spit out?”

(Y/N) sighed. “Silco had a run-in with Enforcers.”

Felicia let out a groan, dragging a hand down her face as she made her way over to the bar. “Of course he did.”

“I didn’t do anything,” Silco muttered, though the bitterness was still clear in his voice.

Felicia waved him off. “Yeah, yeah, and I’m sure you were just a ray of sunshine about it.” She lowered herself onto a stool, exhaling. “Connol would have a fit if he knew I came back out here this late, but I needed some air... Snuck back over here after he passed out.”

(Y/N) tilted her head, watching her friend carefully. “Everything okay?”

Felicia hesitated, glancing down as she tapped her fingers against the counter. “Yeah,” she finally said, but her voice lacked its usual energy. “Just… adjusting. It’s all just… A lot. Ya know?”

Vander placed a hand on her shoulder, giving her a reassuring squeeze. “You’re not alone in this, Fel.”

She gave him a tired smile. “I know. That’s why I’m here.”

For a moment, the conversation lulled into a comfortable silence. Silco, having finally calmed down, leaned against (Y/N), resting his chin on his hand as she absentmindedly ran her fingers over the back of his.

Vander took a deep breath, glancing at each of them in turn before speaking. “Look, I know things are changing. For all of us. But we stick together, yeah? No matter what.”

Felicia smiled. “Yeah. No matter what.”

Silco didn’t say anything, but the way his fingers curled around (Y/N)’s told her he was thinking the same thing.

The days started to pass in a blur. The Undercity was alive with its usual chaos, but within the walls of The Last Drop, an anxious energy had settled over their group. Felicia was nearing her due date, and while she was still as sharp-tongued as ever, there was an underlying exhaustion in her movements, a weight to her steps.

(Y/N) found her leaning against the bar one evening, hand resting on the curve of her belly as she sipped at a cup of tea. Vander had all but banned her from drinking anything stronger, and despite her grumbling, she hadn't put up much of a fight.

“You alright?” (Y/N) asked, sliding onto the stool next to her.

Felicia sighed, rubbing a slow hand over her stomach. “Define alright.”

(Y/N) smirked. “Not in immediate distress?”

Felicia let out a tired laugh. “Guess I’m alright, then.” She exhaled sharply, shaking her head. “I just want this kid out already. If I have to waddle up and down those damn stairs one more time, I’m throwing myself off ‘em.”

Silco, seated at the other end of the bar, raised a brow but didn’t comment. He’d taken to watching everything more closely these past few weeks, as if expecting Felicia to suddenly go into labor right in front of them.

Vander, ever the caretaker, appeared from the back with a fresh glass of water, placing it in front of Felicia with a knowing look. “You should be resting.”

Felicia rolled her eyes. “Resting? In this place?” She gestured vaguely to the lively bar, where the usual ruckus of drinkers and gamblers filled the air. “Yeah, sure, let me just take a nap on the damn pool table.”

Vander sighed but didn’t push the issue. Instead, he ruffled her hair- a move that earned him a glare- as he turned to (Y/N). “And you? Keeping this one outta trouble?” He nodded toward Silco, who smirked against the rim of his glass.

(Y/N) let out an exaggerated sigh, resting her chin in her hand. “Trying my best, but you know how he is.”

Silco hummed. “I take offense to that.”

“Do you?” she teased.

“Not enough to stop.”

Before the conversation could continue, Felicia suddenly inhaled sharply, her fingers gripping the edge of the counter. Vander was at her side instantly, concern flashing across his face.

“What is it?”

Felicia clenched her jaw, exhaling through her nose. “What do you think?” she muttered. “Shit. Okay. Yeah. This is happening.”

A brief silence followed before (Y/N) blinked. “Wait- now?”

Felicia shot her a dry look. “No, I just enjoy false alarms.”

Vander’s eyes widened before he sprang into action. “Alright, alright- Silco, go get Connol.”

Silco was already on his feet, moving swiftly toward the door without argument. (Y/N) stood as well, steadying Felicia when she swayed slightly.

“Shit,” Felicia muttered again, gripping (Y/N)’s arm. “This is really happening.”

(Y/N) squeezed her hand. “We got you.”

Vander’s voice was firm as he turned toward one of the regulars. “Go get Ren- the doc down by the Fissures. Tell her we need her now.”

The bar’s usual noise dulled as people began to realize what was happening. Even those deep into their drinks straightened, exchanging glances as Vander helped Felicia toward the back. This was it.

Violet was coming.

Vander and (Y/N) helped Felicia into the back, guiding her toward the large basin they had set up in advance. It wasn’t much, but it was the cleanest and most private place they could manage in The Last Drop. 

“Alright, easy now,” Vander muttered as they eased her down, Felicia gripping his arm in a way that made him wince.

(Y/N) hovered nearby, adjusting the blankets and towels they had stocked up for this exact moment. “See? The baby bin was a good idea,” she quipped, though the grin on her face was half-nervous energy.

Felicia shot her a glare between labored breaths. “Swear to god, (Y/N), if you call it that one more time, I’ll personally haunt you from the grave.”

(Y/N) held up her hands in surrender, but her smirk remained.

Before Felicia could threaten her further, a sharp pain stole her breath, her fingers tightening in Vander’s grip. He murmured something low and reassuring, rubbing slow circles along her back.

The door banged open, and Silco stepped in, Connol right behind him. Connol’s face was paler than usual, his eyes wide as he took in the scene.

“She-?” he started, but Felicia cut him off with a growl.

“No, I just enjoy sitting in a tub for fun. Yes, Connol, she’s coming.”

Connol swallowed hard but nodded, moving quickly to her side. He knelt beside the basin, brushing damp strands of hair from Felicia’s forehead. “I’m here,” he murmured. “I got you.”

Felicia’s gaze softened- just for a moment- before another contraction hit, and she nearly crushed his fingers in hers.

The next few hours blurred into a haze of pain, muttered reassurances, and Felicia cursing like a sailor. Ren, the woman Vander had sent for, arrived quickly, taking charge with a practiced calm. “Alright, breathe, girl. We’re doing this.”

(Y/N) stayed close, offering Felicia sips of water between contractions while Vander kept her steady. Silco stood nearby, arms crossed, eyes sharp as he watched everything unfold. He didn’t speak much, but he didn’t leave either.

At some point, (Y/N) felt a hand brush against hers, and when she glanced up, she saw Silco had moved closer. He didn’t say anything, just gave her fingers a small squeeze before letting go.

And then- after what felt like both forever and no time at all- a sharp, gasping cry filled the room.

Silence fell as Ren caught the tiny, wriggling newborn, carefully cleaning her before wrapping her in one of the blankets (Y/N) had set aside. She turned to Felicia and Connol, a rare smile tugging at her lips.

“It’s a girl.”

Felicia let out something between a laugh and a sob, her head falling back against Vander’s shoulder. Connol was already reaching out, his hands shaking as he took the tiny bundle from Ren.

Vander exhaled, running a hand through his hair. “Shit,” he muttered, but he was smiling.

(Y/N) leaned over, peering at the newborn. “Well, hello there, Violet,” she murmured, smiling softly at the small girl.

Felicia sighed, exhausted but content, as she reached for her daughter. As soon as Violet was in her arms, she quieted, curling up against her mother’s chest.

Silco, standing just behind (Y/N), exhaled softly. “A new addition to Zaun,” he mused.

Vander snorted. “To the Undercity,” he corrected, though there was no real fight behind it.

Silco smirked. “For now.”

(Y/N) rolled her eyes but didn’t comment. Instead, she just leaned against Silco’s side, watching as Felicia and Connol marveled at their daughter.

The Last Drop had always been filled with noise- arguments, laughter, plans whispered in the dark. But tonight, for just a moment, everything felt quieter.

Violet was here. And the world had changed just a little more.

The room slowly settled after the chaos of birth, the sharp edge of urgency fading into something softer. Felicia was exhausted, her head lolling against Connol’s shoulder as he helped her up from the tub. Vander hovered close, just in case she needed more support, but Connol held her steady.

“C’mon, love,” Connol murmured, pressing a kiss to her damp forehead. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”

Felicia barely had the energy to nod, but she leaned into him as he led her upstairs to the washroom. Vander followed them partway before stopping at the base of the stairs, watching until they disappeared.

That left (Y/N) with Violet.

She adjusted her hold on the tiny newborn, cradling her carefully as she made her way to the back booths. The baby was warm, bundled snugly in the softest blanket they could find. Her little fingers twitched, curling slightly in sleep.

Ren, ever the watchful presence, remained nearby, settling in the seat across from (Y/N). She was quiet as she cleaned off her hands, but her sharp gaze stayed on Violet, monitoring every little movement.

(Y/N) shifted slightly, rocking the baby as she let out a tiny whimper. “Hey now, no need for that,” she murmured, voice soft. “You’ve had a big day already.”

Violet let out a tiny, breathy sigh, nuzzling deeper into the blanket.

Ren smirked. “You’ve got the touch,” she commented, leaning back in her seat.

(Y/N) scoffed lightly. “You say that like I haven’t been around babies before.”

Ren shrugged. “Still. She likes you.”

(Y/N) glanced down at the small bundle in her arms, the steady rise and fall of Violet’s tiny chest. A small, unfamiliar warmth bloomed in her chest.

She pressed a finger gently against Violet’s palm, watching as the baby’s tiny fingers curled around it.

“She’s so small,” (Y/N) murmured.

Ren nodded. “They always are.”

A moment of quiet settled between them, only the faint sounds of the bar in the distance filling the space.

(Y/N) exhaled, leaning back slightly in the booth. “You think she’ll be okay here?” she asked, voice low.

Ren studied her for a moment before replying, “She’ll be okay as long as she’s got people who give a damn about her.”

(Y/N) smirked slightly. “Well, then she’s got a damn good start.”

Ren huffed out a small laugh but nodded in agreement.

(Y/N) looked down at Violet again, her thumb tracing slow circles along the baby’s hand. “Welcome to Zaun, little one,” she whispered.

After some time, Connol came back downstairs, looking far more at ease than when he had first gone up. His hair was still slightly damp from where Felicia had likely splashed him in the bath, but there was a softness in his expression that hadn’t been there before.

(Y/N) carefully handed Violet over, watching as Connol took the baby with gentle hands, cradling her close to his chest. For someone who had been panicked about fatherhood, he certainly looked like he had already fallen into the role.

“She’s a quiet one,” (Y/N) mused, stretching slightly as the weight of the baby left her arms.

Connol chuckled, rocking Violet slightly. “Let’s hope she stays that way.” He glanced toward the stairs. “Felicia’s asking for her.”

(Y/N) nodded, watching as he made his way upstairs, disappearing into the guest room Vander had prepared weeks ago. It had been his idea to set up the room, knowing full well that expecting Felicia to go back and forth between Connol’s apartment and the bar after giving birth was ridiculous.

“She’ll be better off here for a bit,” Vander had said, arms crossed as he stood in the doorway, looking over the freshly made bed and the small bassinet tucked in the corner. “Least until she’s ready to be up and about again.”

Vander had been right. Now, with Felicia recovering and Violet so small, it was easier to have them close.

(Y/N) leaned back into the booth with a sigh, rubbing her arms lightly. The warmth of the newborn was already missed, but a dull ache lingered in her shoulders from holding her so long. Ren, still sitting across from her, was watching the stairs before shifting her gaze back to (Y/N).

“You alright?” she asked.

(Y/N) nodded slightly. “Yeah. Just… glad there were no complications…”

Ren hummed in agreement but didn’t press further.

A moment later, Silco appeared, making his way over to their booth with a slow, measured stride. He didn’t say anything as he slid in beside (Y/N), settling in close enough for their legs to brush beneath the table.

(Y/N) glanced at him, arching a brow. “You good?”

Silco exhaled through his nose, leaning his elbow on the table as he studied her. “You were holding the baby for a long time.”

(Y/N) smirked. “What, worried my arms are gonna fall off?”

Silco scoffed lightly, but there was something thoughtful in his expression. “Just didn’t think you were the type to get all soft over a newborn.”

Ren snorted at that. “She was cooing at her.”

(Y/N) rolled her eyes. “Oh, shut up.”

Silco smirked, shifting slightly so his arm draped over the back of the booth behind her. “I suppose it suits you.”

(Y/N) shot him a look, but Silco only grinned, reaching over to steal her cigarette from the ashtray. She let him, shaking her head as he took a slow drag.

The three of them sat there in quiet for a moment, the noise of the bar distant, the air between them easy.

Eventually, Vander’s voice carried over from behind the counter. “You two planning on sitting there all night, or you gonna help me close up?”

(Y/N) sighed dramatically, pushing herself up from the booth. “Yeah, yeah, we’re coming.”

Silco took another lazy drag before finally moving, and Ren stretched before standing, heading out of the bar to leave them to it. The bar was winding down, but the night still had a few hours left in it.

And as they worked together, cleaning up for the night, there was an unspoken understanding between them.

Zaun- their Zaun- had just gained its newest citizen.

After Violet’s birth, time passed in a blur.

Felicia was exhausted, but she was managing. Connol barely left her side, and between (Y/N), Vander, and Silco she always had someone around to help her with Violet. Despite all the teasing about the "baby bin," (Y/N) had taken to the newborn more than anyone expected. Whenever Felicia needed rest, (Y/N) was the first to scoop Violet up, walking her around the bar, humming soft melodies as she cradled her close. Even Silco had been caught watching them with a raised brow, though he never commented on it.

The Undercity had been relatively quiet, though tensions with Piltover never truly faded. Enforcers still patrolled the Lanes, their presence an ever-looming reminder that peace was fragile.

One evening, after the bar had finally emptied out, Vander leaned against the counter, running a rag over a glass before setting it down. “So,” he started, looking toward Felicia, who was sitting with Violet in her arms, slowly rocking her. “You given any thought to when you’re heading back to Connol’s?”

Felicia let out a tired sigh, shifting Violet slightly. “Haven’t really thought about it.” She glanced toward Connol, who was sitting beside her, his hand resting on her knee. “I mean, I know we can’t stay here forever, but-”

“You can stay,” Vander cut in. “Long as you need.”

Felicia gave him a small smile. “Thanks, Vander.”

Time moved strangely in the days that followed- marked less by clocks and more by feedings, naps, and the soft lull of lullabies echoing through the walls. The once-rowdy atmosphere of The Last Drop had softened around the edges. It hadn’t lost its grit, but it had found something gentler nestled in its corners. Slowly, routines formed. Chaos gave way to rhythm. And though everyone knew things couldn’t stay this way forever, no one was in a rush to change it.

Gone were the lazy, whiskey-slow starts. Now, the day often began with the soft, hiccupping cries of Violet filtering down the stairwell, a sound that had somehow become comforting despite the initial panic it caused that first night.

It was still early when (Y/N) padded out of her room, her socks silent on the floorboards. The bar was quiet, save for the faint clink of glass from downstairs- Vander, already up and prepping for the day. She crossed the hall and carefully nudged open the door to the guest room.

Inside, the air was warm and dim. Felicia was curled up in bed, snoring softly, while Connol sat in the rocking chair nearby, shirt half-buttoned and eyes glassy with exhaustion. Violet rested against his shoulder, fussing quietly.

“Tag out,” (Y/N) whispered, stepping fully into the room.

Connol blinked, surprised. “You sure? She’s been fussy all-”

“I got her.” She held out her arms.

He hesitated for only a second before easing Violet into her embrace, careful not to wake her fully. (Y/N) cradled the baby against her chest, rocking her gently as she stepped back toward the hall.

“I’ll take her downstairs. You sleep.”

Connol didn’t argue. The second the door clicked shut, she heard the chair creak as he collapsed into it with a sigh.

Downstairs, the bar was still lit with the soft haze of early morning. Vander glanced up from wiping the counter, a brow raised as he saw her walk in, gently bouncing Violet against her shoulder.

“You’re up early,” he said.

(Y/N) shrugged. “So is she.”

He grinned. “She’s already got you wrapped around her little finger, doesn’t she?”

“Shut up,” (Y/N) muttered, but she didn’t deny it. She moved to the booth by the window, settling Violet into the crook of her arm as she sat. The baby stirred but didn’t cry, instead letting out a soft sigh as she pressed her tiny face against (Y/N)’s collarbone.

Vander brought over a mug of tea, placing it in front of her with a smirk. “Don’t worry. Happens to the best of us.”

She rolled her eyes but accepted the tea, sipping quietly as the morning light crept in through the cracks in the shutters.

By midday, the rest of the gang had trickled in.

Felicia emerged looking like death warmed over, wrapped in a blanket and shuffling toward the bar like a woman possessed. “Coffee,” she croaked.

“Tea,” Vander corrected, placing a steaming mug in front of her.

Felicia stared at it like it had personally wronged her. “This is a hate crime.”

(Y/N) snorted from her seat, Violet still asleep in her arms. “Just drink it, mom.”

Felicia shot her a glare, but the word “mom” clearly hadn’t sunk in yet- it left her blinking, dazed, as she slowly sat down beside her.

Silco showed up not long after, unlit cigarette tucked behind his ear, hair slightly disheveled from sleep. He paused in the doorway when he saw (Y/N) cradling Violet, his expression unreadable for a moment. Then, quietly, he made his way over and leaned against the table.

“She always that quiet for you?” he asked.

(Y/N) shrugged, glancing down at the baby. “She likes me.”

Silco’s eyes flicked between the two of them. “Apparently.”

(Y/N) raised an eyebrow. “You jealous?”

“Of a baby?” he scoffed. “Hardly.”

But she caught the corner of his mouth twitching- just barely- and she smiled to herself.

That evening, the bar was closed early for the first time in weeks. A slow lull settled over the place as everyone found themselves in the common area past the backroom, too tired to talk much, but too content to separate.

Felicia sat curled up on one end of the couch, head in Connol’s lap as he gently played with her hair. Vander had claimed his usual armchair, a bottle of something strong resting on his thigh. Silco leaned against the windowsill, arms crossed as he looked out over the Lanes, but every so often, his gaze flicked back toward (Y/N), who was curled up in the center of the couch with Violet dozing against her chest.

It wasn’t until Violet gave a tiny, hiccuping cry that the whole room stirred. Felicia made a tired sound, but before she could move, (Y/N) was already on her feet, cradling the baby with practiced ease.

“I got her,” she said softly, gently bouncing Violet.

Felicia gave her a look. “You know you’re not obligated, right? We can take care of our own kid.”

(Y/N) smirked. “Yeah, but I want to.”

That caught everyone off guard, if only for a moment. Silco’s eyes narrowed slightly, watching her with a strange intensity. Vander set his drink down.

“She’s really grown on you,” he said, not unkindly.

(Y/N) nodded, her voice quiet. “I didn’t think she would… but she has.”

Violet finally settled again, her tiny fingers curling into the fabric of (Y/N)’s shirt. The whole room seemed to exhale at once.

Felicia tilted her head. “You ever think about having one?”

(Y/N) blinked. “Me? No. Gods, no.”

Felicia smirked. “Could’ve fooled me.”

(Y/N) glanced down at Violet, brushing her knuckles against the baby’s soft cheek. “…Maybe someday. If the world doesn’t burn down first.”

Silco’s voice cut in quietly from the window. “It already is.”

(Y/N) met his gaze, holding it. “Then we make something good in the ashes.”

No one had a response to that. Not right away.

Eventually, Felicia yawned and nudged Connol. “Alright, dad duty. You’re on.”

Connol groaned but stood, taking Violet gently from (Y/N)’s arms. She lingered just a second longer before letting go, fingers brushing the baby’s blanket with a reluctant kind of affection.

Silco watched her the whole time.

As the group slowly dispersed for the night, he hung back until it was just the two of them left in the bar. She was standing by the window now, arms folded as she stared out into the flickering lights of the Undercity.

“You’re acting different,” he said finally, stepping closer.

(Y/N) glanced at him. “That obvious?”

He shrugged. “Maybe not to them. But I notice.”

She was quiet for a moment, then: “I think I’m just… remembering things I didn’t think I still had in me.”

Silco didn’t press. He just stood beside her, their shoulders nearly touching, the silence between them as comfortable as anything else.

Eventually, (Y/N) looked up at him with a tired smile.

“Want to hold her tomorrow when I watch her?”

Silco stared at her, surprised. “…You trust me with her?”

(Y/N) nodded. “I trust you with a lot more than that.”

And for once, Silco didn’t have a sharp reply.

He just nodded, voice quieter than usual. “…Alright.”

The next morning was slow, the kind that crept in through dusty windows and settled over The Last Drop like a warm blanket.

(Y/N) was already awake, wandering barefoot through the bar in one of Silco’s oversized shirts she’d stolen some time ago, sleeves rolled up to her elbows. Her hair was pulled back haphazardly, now that it had grown out a bit. She didn’t care. She’d gotten the baby back to sleep, and in this place, that was a damn victory.

Silco was seated at the counter, watching her.

He didn’t mean to- at least, not like that closely. He’d come down for a quiet drink and maybe a bit of peace before the rest of the world woke up. Instead, he’d walked in to see her cradling Violet in the crook of her arm, bottle in one hand, humming softly under her breath.

And now, she was swaying by the booth with the baby propped on her shoulder, gently patting her back. No fanfare. No dramatics. Just soft, instinctual care.

He watched the way her fingers moved- gentle, practiced, careful. The way she whispered nonsense to Violet, murmuring things like “You’ve got your mother’s glare, you know that?” and “If you scream again, I’m letting Uncle Vander take you for a walk.”

Silco’s throat felt dry. Uncomfortably so.

She caught him staring when she turned, arching a brow but smiling around it. “You watching me or the baby?”

“Yes,” he said before he could stop himself.

(Y/N) snorted. “Charming.”

She moved toward the counter, shifting Violet to her other arm and reaching for the warm bottle she’d left to reheat in a bowl of water. She tested the temperature on the inside of her wrist, nodded to herself, and offered it to the half-sleeping baby. Violet latched without complaint, tiny fingers curling into the fabric of (Y/N)’s shirt.

Silco… swallowed hard.

“You want to hold her?” she asked casually, like it wasn’t the most loaded question in the world.

Silco blinked. “Now?”

She glanced at him. “You said you wanted to. You can back out.”

He narrowed his eyes. “I’m not backing out.”

She grinned, stepping closer. “Alright, then sit up straight. Support her neck. She doesn’t like sudden movements.”

Silco gave her a dry look. “You do remember who you’re talking to, right?”

“You’re not intimidating when you’re being handed a baby,” she deadpanned, then gently passed Violet into his arms.

She adjusted his grip, her fingers brushing against his forearms, and then pulled back just enough to watch.

Violet nestled against him, her tiny fingers fisting in the collar of his vest.

Silco stared down at her like she was a live grenade.

(Y/N) sat beside him, watching the way his entire body tensed. “You look like you’re about to be attacked.”

“She’s… small,” he muttered, eyes locked on Violet’s sleepy face.

“Babies usually are.”

“I could crush her.”

“You won’t.”

There was a pause, quiet save for Violet’s soft sucking noises as she finished the bottle.

“She trusts you,” (Y/N) said softly, watching him. “I do too.”

Silco looked at her then.

Really looked.

She was a mess- hair tousled, skin still glowing faintly from sleep, and bags under her eyes.

She was also… radiant.

Her hands were capable of violence and fury and fire- but now, they were warm and gentle, holding softness like it was the most natural thing in the world.

And something about seeing her like that- still strong, but so tender- it undid something in him.

“…What?” she asked when she noticed him staring.

Silco blinked. “Nothing.”

(Y/N)’s lips curled. “You’ve got that look. The ‘I just had a dark, brooding epiphany’ look.”

“I do not have a look.”

She reached over and tapped between his brows. “This. Right here. You’re doing it.”

He caught her hand, not roughly, but firmly. “I was thinking.”

“Dangerous habit,” She mocked, repeating something he had told her time and time before.

Silco’s thumb brushed along the side of her hand without thinking, lingering longer than necessary.

“I was thinking…” he started, voice low, “...that you’ve changed a bit.”

(Y/N) tilted her head. “Not sure if that’s a compliment.”

“It is,” he said quietly. “You… surprise me.”

(Y/N)’s gaze softened just slightly. “I could say the same about you.”

They stayed there like that for a long moment. Silco still cradling Violet, (Y/N) leaning in a little closer, their forearms brushing on the countertop.

Violet let out a soft gurgle, breaking the silence, and (Y/N) chuckled.

“Alright, time to burp her before she explodes,” she said, reaching for the baby.

But Silco didn’t hand her over right away.

His fingers lingered on the back of Violet’s head for a moment longer, then slowly passed her back with a care that didn’t go unnoticed.

(Y/N) adjusted Violet on her shoulder, gently patting her back. “You did good,” she murmured, half to him, half to the baby.

Silco watched her, then stood, muttering, “I need to get some air.”

He left before she could tease him- but not before she saw the flush climbing up the back of his neck.

Ember in the Dark pt.8

Young!Silco x Fem!Reader

pt.7 - pt.9

pt.1

Warnings: Trauma, Violence/Injury, Self-Isolation/Depression, Malnutrition, Emotional/Physical Exhaustion, Substance Use, Mild Intimacy, pregnancy Discussion, Mild Language.

Word Count: 10115

Summary: After a mission leaves (Y/N) grappling with guilt, she isolates herself, struggling to accept what she has done. Despite her friends' attempts to reach her, it’s Silco’s quiet reassurance that helps her begin to heal. Two weeks later, she reemerges, cutting her hair and returning to work and training, determined to move forward. One night, she confides in Silco, fearing she has become a monster. He reassures her that guilt proves she still has a heart, grounding her in his unwavering support. As life in Zaun stabilizes, the group- Vander, Silco, (Y/N), and Felicia- find comfort in their bond. Together, the group moves forward- not just as friends, but as family.

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The bar was alive with noise- laughter, drunken shouts, the clinking of glasses- but to (Y/N), it all sounded distant. Muted.

She barely noticed the people in her way as she shoved past them, her steps quick, purposeful. Her fingers trembled as she climbed the stairs, her breath unsteady, her mind still caught in the warehouse. Still caught in that moment.

By the time she reached her room, she slammed the door shut and locked it behind her. Only then did she allow herself to exhale.

The room felt suffocating. Her skin felt tainted.

She had done what she needed to do. What they had all agreed had to be done. But the truth settled in her gut like a stone- she wasn’t just the hunted anymore.

She was the hunter.

She had become what they feared.

(Y/N) sat down heavily on the edge of her bed, running a hand over her face. The faint scent of smoke still clung to her fingers, her clothes. She looked down at her hands, staring at them in the dim candlelight. They still held the smallest warmth, a whisper of the magic she had used, a reminder of what she had done.

She clenched her hands into fists, taking a deep breath.

Outside, the bar carried on. Life moved forward, just as it always did.

Silco hadn’t followed her. She was grateful for that. She didn’t want to see the way he looked at her- not with judgment, because he wouldn’t judge her. But maybe with understanding. And that, somehow, was worse.

Because it meant he knew exactly what this felt like.

Downstairs, Silco leaned against the bar, tracing the rim of his glass as Vander and the others waited for him to speak.

“It’s done,” he finally said, his voice even.

Vander exhaled, rubbing his jaw. Benzo gave a small nod, as if he had already expected as much. Felicia shifted uncomfortably, glancing toward the stairs but saying nothing.

No one asked for details. No one needed them.

Silco took a slow sip from his glass, his mind still half elsewhere.

(Y/N) would come to him when she was ready.

Until then, he would wait.

The days blurred together in a haze of smoke and silence.

(Y/N) barely left her room. If she did, it was only for a moment- to grab water, to stare out the window before disappearing again. She barely ate. She barely spoke.

They all tried. Vander knocked first, his voice gentle but firm, asking if she needed anything. She didn’t answer.

Felicia tried next, lingering outside the door, speaking softly, but (Y/N) still said nothing.

Even Benzo made an attempt, though he only sighed when he was met with silence, muttering something about how no one could hide away forever.

Silco was the last to try. He didn’t knock. He simply stood outside her door, silent for a moment, before speaking low enough that only she could hear.

“I’m still here.”

That was all. Then he left.

Still, she didn’t come out.

The bar continued on without her, though an uneasy weight hung over the place. Silco tried to act like it didn’t bother him, but his foot tapped anxiously under the counter, his cigarette burned lower than usual, and the shadows beneath his eyes darkened.

Vander, on the other hand, was dealing with an entirely different shift.

A title had been given to him- The Hound of the Underground.

It spread quickly. People whispered about the job they had pulled, about how the Enforcer captain had vanished without a trace. But more than that, they whispered about Vander.

Vander never wanted to be a leader. That had always seemed more like Silco’s role. But now, people were looking to him- to his strength, to his ability to stand against Piltover’s boot. And, whether he liked it or not, he was stepping into the role.

Silco found it amusing, watching Vander take the spotlight while he worked from the shadows… It had its own benefits.

A new captain had been appointed. A woman named Grayson.

Enforcer patrols had increased tenfold. They were more careful, more disciplined. But they still didn’t have a single lead.

And so, life went on.

For everyone- except (Y/N).

The second week passed, heavy with silence.

But that morning, (Y/N) made a decision.

She rose from bed, the stiffness in her limbs a reminder of how long she had spent lying in one place. The room was dim, the light from the cracked window barely illuminating the space. Slowly, she stepped into the washroom, bracing herself against the sink as she stared into the mirror.

She barely recognized herself.

Her eyes were dull, rimmed with exhaustion. Her skin was more pale, her lips pressed in a thin, tired line. The weight of what she had done clung to her, suffocating, but she wasn’t going to let it keep consuming her.

Not anymore.

(Y/N) opened one of the cabinets, searching until her fingers curled around a pair of old scissors. She exhaled, steadying her grip, and lifted them to her hair.

The first snip was the hardest.

But once she started, she didn’t stop. Strands of hair fell into the sink, a stark contrast against the porcelain, as she cut her way up to her eyes. She let it frame her face, leaving the back a little longer. She had done this before- cut Silco’s hair when they were younger, Vander’s, even Felicia’s once when she had been too impatient to grow it out.

So she wasn’t completely clueless.

She evened out the edges as best as she could, then took a step back to examine herself.

It was different. But maybe different was what she needed.

Once she was done, she swept the fallen hair into a pile, throwing it away before turning toward the bathtub.

She had let herself sit in her own filth for too long.

(Y/N) ran the water hot, stripping off her clothes and stepping in. The heat burned against her skin, but she welcomed it, scrubbing away the grime and sweat that clung to her. Her stitches had healed now- she had torn the thread from her body a few nights prior, biting down on a cloth to muffle the pain.

It was over now.

She let herself sink beneath the water, closing her eyes for a moment before resurfacing.

She was ready.

Ready to move forward.

(Y/N) got dressed, did the routine she had been avoiding for so long, making herself look a bit more presentable. She took a deep breath, before stepping out of her room.

The scent of smoke, cheap liquor, and freshly brewed coffee filled the air as she made her way down the stairs. The usual sounds of the bar hummed softly around her- glasses clinking, quiet conversation, the occasional creak of a chair against the wooden floor.

Vander stood behind the counter, cleaning a glass with slow, methodical movements. Silco sat off to the side, his head bowed over his journal, the tip of his pen scratching against the page. Across the room, Felicia sat with Connol, a cup of coffee in her hands as she spoke with him.

At first, none of them noticed her.

Then Vander looked up, his hands faltering mid-motion. His brows furrowed slightly before his expression softened, a worried but relieved smile tugging at his lips.

Silco, noticing Vander’s pause, raised an eyebrow and followed his gaze. When his eyes landed on (Y/N), his pen stilled. His gaze lingered on her hair, eyes widening just slightly as he took in the change.

Felicia was the last to notice.

Her conversation with Connol cut off as she turned her head, blinking in surprise before realization dawned on her. Without hesitation, she pushed back from her chair and rushed over, her coffee abandoned.

"(Y/N)!"

Before she could react, Felicia grabbed her, pulling her into a tight embrace.

(Y/N) tensed for a second before slowly relaxing into it, exhaling against Felicia’s shoulder.

“You absolute idiot,” Felicia murmured, voice thick with emotion. “You scared the hell out of us.”

(Y/N) swallowed hard, guilt twisting in her gut.

“I know,” she whispered.

Felicia pulled back, placing her hands on (Y/N)’s shoulders as she took a better look at her. “You cut your hair,” she murmured, brushing her fingers lightly against the shorter strands. “It looks good.”

(Y/N) gave a small, tired smile. “Thanks.”

Felicia let out a breath, shaking her head before pulling her in for another quick hug. “Don’t do that again, alright?”

(Y/N) nodded against her shoulder. “I won’t.”

As they stepped apart, (Y/N) glanced over at Vander and Silco.

Vander, still behind the counter, gave her a slow nod, his expression unreadable. “You hungry?” he asked.

(Y/N) hesitated, but after a moment, she nodded. “Yeah.”

Vander’s lips twitched slightly, and without another word, he turned toward the small kitchen in the back.

Silco, still seated, was watching her closely. His expression wasn’t as easy to read as the others. His gaze flickered back to her hair before meeting her eyes.

(Y/N) raised an eyebrow. “What?”

Silco huffed a quiet chuckle, shaking his head. “Nothing.”

He tapped his pen against his journal before flipping it shut and standing. “C’mon,” he said, nodding toward the counter. “Sit down. You look like you could use something stronger than coffee.”

(Y/N) let out a soft laugh. “I think I’ve had enough of that for a while.”

Silco smirked. “We’ll see.”

As she moved toward the counter, the weight in her chest didn’t feel as heavy as before. She wasn’t sure if things would ever go back to normal.

But at least she wasn’t alone.

Instead of reaching for a bottle of whiskey like she normally would, (Y/N) leaned over the bar and grabbed a cup, pouring herself some coffee. The warmth seeped into her hands as she brought it to her lips, sipping slowly.

Felicia, still watching her carefully, grabbed Connol’s hand and tugged him along to sit beside her at the bar. Silco settled next to (Y/N), resting his arms on the counter as he watched her with quiet curiosity.

(Y/N) set her cup down and exhaled. “Alright… I’ve been ignoring everything for a while now. Catch me up. What’s been happening?”

Felicia and Connol exchanged a look before Felicia started.

“Well… for one, the Enforcers are crawling all over the place now. They’ve been patrolling constantly since the captain went missing, but no one’s been caught or questioned.” She leaned on the counter, tilting her head. “Oh, and Vander has a new title now.”

(Y/N) raised an eyebrow. “Oh?”

Silco smirked. “The Hound of the Underground.”

(Y/N) blinked before huffing out a quiet laugh. “That’s a bit dramatic, don’t you think?”

Felicia grinned. “You know how people get. Word spreads fast, and apparently, he’s got a whole reputation now. People are looking up to him, seeing him as a leader.”

(Y/N) stole another sip of coffee, glancing over toward Vander, who was still in the back making food. She knew he never intended for something like that to happen, but she also knew he wouldn’t ignore it. He never could.

“And the new Enforcer captain?” she asked.

Connol spoke up for the first time. “A woman named Grayson. Word is, she’s not like the last guy. Doesn’t take bribes as easily. She’s been trying to keep the other Enforcers from acting like power-hungry thugs.”

(Y/N) scoffed. “Good luck with that.”

“Yeah,” Felicia muttered, taking a sip of her coffee. “We’ll see how long that lasts.”

As they talked, (Y/N) kept having to tug her shirt back over her shoulder, the fabric slipping more than usual. It wasn’t until Silco’s gaze flickered downward that she realized why.

She had thinned out.

Not drastically, but enough to notice. Two weeks of barely eating had taken its toll. Her sleeves felt looser, her frame not as solid as before.

Silco didn’t say anything, but she caught the way his fingers drummed against the counter, a small furrow forming between his brows.

Felicia noticed too. She didn’t comment, but she shifted closer, nudging (Y/N) lightly.

“Vander’s making you food,” she said, as if reading her thoughts. “You’re eating all of it.”

(Y/N) sighed but didn’t argue. She took another sip of coffee instead, letting the warmth settle in her chest.

It didn’t take Vander long to bring out a plate of food, setting it down in front of (Y/N) with a firm look that told her there was no room for argument. She eyed it for a moment before glancing up at him with a smirk.

“So, ‘Hound of the Underground,’ huh?” she teased, picking up her fork.

Vander groaned, rubbing a hand over his face. “Don’t start.”

Felicia snickered. “Too late.”

(Y/N) chuckled, shaking her head as she finally took a bite. It felt like forever since she’d eaten something warm, something made with care. Vander watched her for a second, making sure she actually ate before he went back to his work.

She ate slowly, listening as the conversation around her continued.

“So,” Silco said, leaning on the counter beside her, “now that you’re up and about again… what’s next?”

(Y/N) paused mid-bite, mulling over the question. Truthfully, she hadn’t thought that far. She had spent so long locking herself away, suffocating under the weight of her own mind, that she hadn’t considered what came after.

She chewed, swallowed, and exhaled. “I don’t know yet,” she admitted.

Felicia crossed her arms. “Well, you’re not running off on your own, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

(Y/N) scoffed. “Not planning to.”

Silco watched her, fingers tapping lazily against the counter. “Then you stay here. Lay low. Let things settle.”

(Y/N) nodded. “That’s the plan.”

For now.

She took another bite, keeping her gaze lowered as the others continued talking. Despite everything, despite the weight still lingering in her chest, she felt… lighter.

Not fixed.

Not free.

But present.

As she ate, (Y/N) let her thoughts wander. She needed something to keep her occupied- something that wasn’t drinking herself numb or locking herself away again. She needed routine, structure.

The mines.

It was how they had started, how they had kept themselves afloat when things were uncertain. Hard work, exhausting work, but it kept them out of trouble. At least, most of the time.

She could go back to that. Spend her days in the mines, doing honest work, something that would wear her down in a way that wasn’t guilt or self-loathing. And when she wasn’t in the mines… she could train.

Her magic had changed- not a whole lot, but still… It had grown stronger. She needed to harness it, sharpen it like a blade instead of letting it lash out blindly.

She tapped her fingers against the counter, coming to a decision.

"I think I’m gonna start working in the mines again," she said finally.

Silco turned his head toward her, arching a brow. “Really?”

She nodded. “Yeah. It’ll keep me busy.” She took another sip of coffee before adding, “And when I’m not working… I’m training.”

Felicia tilted her head. “Training?”

(Y/N) met her gaze. “My magic. I need to be better with it.”

Connol, who had been listening from the other side of the bar, crossed his arms. “Not a bad idea.”

Vander sighed, setting down the glass he’d been cleaning. “Just don’t push yourself too hard.”

(Y/N) offered him a tired smirk. “No promises.”

Silco watched her for a moment, then simply nodded. “I’ll help.”

(Y/N) blinked. “With what?”

“Your training.” He leaned back against the bar, shrugging. “It’s not like you’re going to do it alone, are you?”

Felicia grinned. “Looks like you’ve got a training partner.”

(Y/N) huffed a quiet laugh, shaking her head. But she didn’t argue.

Maybe this was what she needed. Something to focus on. Something to move forward with.

(Y/N) finished her food, the warmth of it settling in her stomach in a way that made her realize just how much she had missed eating properly. Pushing her plate aside, she picked it up along with her cup and made her way behind the bar, ignoring Vander’s protests as she rinsed them off and started washing them herself.

Silco watched her from where he sat, tapping his fingers idly against his journal. He didn’t say anything, just observing as she methodically cleaned the dishes, her movements steady and purposeful.

Once she was done, she dried her hands on a nearby rag and turned back toward the others. “I’ll start in the mines tomorrow,” she said simply.

Felicia gave her an approving nod. “Good... If it’ll keep you busy.”

(Y/N) hummed in agreement, then glanced at Silco. “And for training… we’ll do it in the deeper parts of the mines. Like we used to when we were younger.”

Silco’s lips twitched into a small smirk. “Sounds like a plan.”

Vander sighed, shaking his head. “Just… be careful, alright?”

(Y/N) smirked. “Always.”

Silco snorted at that, but didn’t comment.

With that settled, (Y/N) let out a slow breath. Tomorrow, things would return to some semblance of normal. Or at least, as normal as life in the Undercity ever got.

(Y/N) spent the rest of the day in the bar, determined not to retreat back into her room. It was harder than she thought it would be- there was still a part of her that wanted to disappear upstairs, to avoid the noise, the stares, the weight of existing among people again. But she pushed through it.

She stayed in her seat at the bar beside Silco, nursing a cup of coffee instead of whiskey. He occasionally glanced up from his journal, giving her a quiet, knowing look, but he didn’t press her. She appreciated that.

Felicia and Connol had stayed close too, the two of them talking about anything and everything, just to keep conversation flowing. (Y/N) listened, interjecting now and then, but mostly just taking in the atmosphere- the smell of smoke, alcohol, and the faintest hint of whatever Vander had cooked earlier still lingering in the air.

Vander busied himself behind the bar, wiping down the counter, filling drinks, and chatting with patrons. Every now and then, he would glance at her, making sure she was still there, still okay.

At some point, Benzo showed up, sliding into the seat beside her and giving her a once-over. “Glad to see you out of that room,” he muttered, his tone gruff but not unkind.

(Y/N) smirked slightly. “Figured it was time.”

Benzo nodded approvingly before ordering a drink.

Hours passed, and she found herself relaxing, just a little. She even played a few rounds of cards with Felicia, Connol, and a few of the regulars. She wasn’t particularly good at it, but that wasn’t the point. The point was that she was here. Present... Trying.

As the night went on, the bar grew livelier, but she remained where she was, refusing to let the old instinct to retreat take over. Silco stayed close, occasionally passing her a cigarette without a word, and Vander made sure she always had something to sip on, whether it was coffee or water.

By the time the night wound down, she felt exhausted, but in a different way than before. This wasn’t the heavy, crushing exhaustion of grief and regret- this was just the tiredness of a long day spent in the company of people she cared about. She had made it through the entire day without retreating, without shutting herself away, but now, she was ready to sleep.

She hesitated for a moment before turning to Silco, who had been silently watching her from his place beside her at the bar. She met his gaze, her voice softer than usual. “…Come up with me?”

For weeks, she had shut herself away, refusing company, refusing comfort. But she missed this- missed the quiet warmth of his presence, missed how easy it was to breathe when he was next to her.

Silco’s eyes flickered with something unreadable, but he only gave a small nod. “Of course.”

She didn’t say anything else, just turned and made her way toward the stairs, trusting him to follow. She heard his stool scrape against the floor as he stood, his footsteps light behind her as they ascended.

Once inside her room, she exhaled, feeling some of the tension she hadn’t even realized she was holding finally release. She didn’t bother changing out of her clothes- she was too tired for that. Instead, she simply climbed into bed, shifting just enough to make space for him.

Silco settled in beside her without hesitation. It was familiar, easy. He didn’t say anything- he didn’t need to. Instead, he reached out, gently pulling her closer. She let him.

As they lay in the quiet of her room, tangled together in the dim neon lights filtering through the cracks in the curtains, Silco let out a slow breath. His arms were wrapped securely around her, his fingers tracing slow, absentminded patterns along her back. It had been so long since he had held her like this, and he wasn’t sure he ever wanted to let go.

“You worried me,” he murmured after a long stretch of silence, his voice barely above a whisper.

(Y/N) didn’t respond right away, just curled in a little closer, pressing her forehead against his. He felt her tense slightly, like she was debating whether or not to respond.

Silco didn’t push, not yet. He just kept holding her, patient as ever.

After what felt like forever, she finally spoke, her voice quiet, hesitant. “…I felt like I became everything I was afraid of.”

His brows furrowed, but he didn’t interrupt. He let her speak.

“I justified everything they did to my people. I became the reason they hunt us down. The reason they fear us. I- I killed without hesitation, without remorse, because I thought it was what needed to be done.” She exhaled shakily. “And then I locked myself away because I didn’t know how to live with it.”

Silco’s grip on her tightened slightly, but he still said nothing, waiting to make sure she had gotten everything out.

“I felt disgusting,” she admitted, her voice barely a whisper now. “Like I was drowning in what I’d done.”

Silco let out a slow, measured breath before he finally spoke. “You did what you had to.”

She scoffed, shaking her head. “Did I?”

He stared directly into her eyes, refusing to pull away from her gaze, his hands coming up to cradle her face. “Yes,” he said firmly, his thumbs brushing over her cheeks. “You survived. You protected yourself, protected all of us. That was never wrong.”

Her eyes searched his, uncertain. “Then why do I feel like it was?”

Silco didn’t have a perfect answer. He couldn’t magically take away what she felt, couldn’t erase the weight she carried. But he could remind her of the truth.

“Because you still have a heart,” he murmured, leaning up to press a gentle kiss to her forehead. “Because you aren’t like them.”

She let out a shaky breath, eyes slipping shut as she let herself relax against him.

Silco held her closer, his lips brushing against her temple. “You are not a monster, (Y/N). You never were.”

She didn’t respond, but the way she clung to him a little tighter told him enough.

He would remind her every day if he had to. Because he loved her. And he wasn’t going anywhere.

As the night stretched on, the warmth between them remained steady. Silco kept his arms wrapped securely around her, feeling the steady rise and fall of her breathing against his chest. Every now and then, he would press a slow, reassuring kiss against the top of her head, letting her know without words that she was safe, that she was not alone.

Slowly, her grip on him tightened, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt as though afraid he would slip away. Even in sleep, she sought him out. Silco only held her closer in response, his fingers idly tracing along her back in a slow, comforting rhythm.

For the first time in weeks, her sleep was peaceful- no restlessness, no muttered words under her breath, no sudden jolts awake. Just warmth and quiet.

And, for the first time in weeks, Silco allowed himself to relax.

It didn’t take long before his own eyes drifted shut, and he finally followed her into sleep.

The morning came gently. A dim light filtered in through the cracks in the curtains, casting a soft glow over the room. The warmth from the night before remained, (Y/N) still clinging tightly to Silco in her sleep, her face nestled against his chest.

Silco woke first. His mind was slow to shake off the haze of sleep, but he didn’t move- he just lay there, watching her.

She looked peaceful. A stark contrast to the last two weeks of sleepless nights and empty stares.

His fingers instinctively threaded through her short hair, brushing through the strands with deliberate, careful movements. It was still strange to see her like this, but not in a bad way.

She shifted slightly at his touch, letting out a quiet breath but not waking up just yet.

Silco only continued his slow movements, watching the way the soft morning light illuminated her features.

Eventually, (Y/N)’s eyes slowly opened, only to be met with Silco’s soft, tired gaze. She gave him a tired smile, before nuzzling into the crook of his neck, her grip on him tightening.

Just her... Just him.

No weight of the past dragging them both down.

As they both hesitantly pulled themselves from the warmth of the bed, (Y/N) stretched her limbs, rubbing the sleep from her eyes before making her way to the small dresser in the room. She sifted through her clothes, pulling out a worn but sturdy set of work clothes suitable for the mines.

Silco lingered for a moment, watching her silently before exhaling through his nose and heading toward the door. “I’ll be downstairs,” he murmured, giving her one last glance before slipping out of the room.

As he descended the stairs into the bar, the familiar scent of smoke and stale liquor filled the air. It was still early, meaning most of their usual patrons weren’t around just yet. Vander was already behind the counter, cleaning up from the night before.

Silco approached him, leaning casually against the bar. “Make her something to eat?” he said, voice low but firm.

Vander glanced up from the glass he was drying, raising an eyebrow. “She ask for something?”

Silco shook his head. “No. But she needs to eat before heading into the mines.”

Vander studied him for a moment before sighing, setting the glass aside. “Yeah, alright. I’ll get something together for her.” He didn’t argue- it was clear Silco was worried, and truthfully, so was he.

Silco gave a small nod of thanks before moving to his usual seat near the bar, pulling out his journal. He tapped a cigarette from his case but didn’t light it just yet, glancing toward the stairs every now and then, waiting for (Y/N) to come down.

(Y/N) came down the stairs, still adjusting her sleeves as she walked over to the bar. Her steps were slow, weighed down by lingering exhaustion, but she was determined to push through it. Spotting Silco in his usual seat, she made her way over, sinking into the spot beside him.

She let out a quiet yawn before slumping forward, draping herself over Silco without a second thought. “Gotta get used to getting up early again…” she mumbled, voice still heavy with sleep. “Bet the first week of working again is gonna be hell.”

Silco huffed in amusement but didn’t push her away. Instead, he let her rest against him, his hand absentmindedly trailing over the back of hers where it rested on the counter.

Vander, who had just set a plate of food down in front of her, smirked at the sight but didn’t say anything.

Felicia, however, was a different story. She leaned forward, her mug of coffee cradled between her hands as she raised an eyebrow at the two of them. “Are uh… you two..?”

(Y/N) stiffened slightly, her face warming, but she didn’t move away. Silco, on the other hand, just exhaled through his nose, his lips curving into the barest hint of a smirk.

“You make it sound like a dramatic revelation,” he murmured, taking a slow sip from his own cup.

Felicia snorted, giving Connol a knowing look. “I mean, considering how long you two have been dancing around each other, yeah, I’d say it is.”

(Y/N) groaned, pressing her forehead against Silco’s shoulder to hide her face. “Not even five minutes into the day, and you’re already fucking with me…”

Felicia just grinned. “You make it too easy.”

Silco nudged her slightly, motioning toward the plate Vander had set in front of her. It was a silent order, one she knew better than to argue against. With a quiet sigh, she sat up properly and picked up her fork, beginning to eat.

Felicia, still grinning, watched the two of them with amusement. They hadn’t made anything official, hadn’t spoken any words to define what they were, but the fact that Silco hadn’t denied her accusation made it clear where he stood.

As (Y/N) ate, Silco resumed writing in his journal, though his free hand remained close to hers on the counter. Every so often, his fingers would brush against hers, a subtle reassurance that she wasn’t alone.

Once she finished, she reached for her plate, intending to wash it, but Felicia was faster. With a smug smirk, she snatched it up before (Y/N) could protest. “Nope. You’ve got work to get to. I’ll take care of this.”

Shaking her head in amusement, (Y/N) slid off her seat and dusted off her pants. She glanced at Silco, hesitating for just a moment before leaning up and pressing a soft kiss to his cheek.

His fingers twitched slightly, but he didn’t pull away. Instead, he simply turned his head enough to meet her gaze, his eyes calm but unreadable.

Before the others could tease her further, she quickly turned on her heel and made her way toward the door. “I’ll be back later,” she called over her shoulder before heading out, making her way toward the mines.

The Undercity was restless. The increased Enforcer presence was obvious- pairs of them stalked the streets, watching, searching. They knew nothing about her, nothing about what had happened. And yet, every time she saw their armor glinting in the dim light, her stomach twisted with guilt. She kept to the shadows, choosing the quieter routes, the paths less patrolled.

By the time she reached the mines, her chest felt lighter, though her thoughts still clung to her like grime after a long shift. She slipped through the entrance, moving past the few workers already getting to it, and headed straight down to the small office they all used.

The room was the same as always- dusty, cluttered, smelling of sweat and metal. She made her way to her usual spot, placing her things down and rolling her shoulders. It had been a while since she’d worked, and she knew today was going to be rough. But that was the point, wasn’t it? To throw herself into something, to stay busy, to not think.

With that thought in mind, she grabbed her gloves, pulled them on tight, and headed out into the tunnels. Work waited, and she was ready for it.

The day was grueling. Each swing of the pickaxe sent a jolt through her arms, each lift of a crate strained muscles she hadn’t used in weeks. The sweat clung to her skin, her breath heavy from exertion, but she didn’t stop. She pushed through the exhaustion, through the aching burn in her limbs, through the thoughts clawing at the back of her mind.

By the time her shift was over, she felt like she could collapse where she stood. Instead, she grabbed a cigarette from her pocket and stepped outside, lighting it with slightly unsteady hands. She inhaled deeply, letting the nicotine calm her frayed nerves as she leaned against the wall of the office.

After a few minutes, she flicked the half-finished cigarette to the ground, crushing it under her boot before turning on her heel. She had something else to do now- something she hadn’t done in a long time.

She needed to get Silco.

Pushing through her exhaustion, she made her way back to the bar, slipping through the bustling streets, dodging Enforcers when needed. By the time she stepped inside, she was already searching for him. And when her eyes landed on him, sitting in his usual spot with his journal, she exhaled softly and approached.

“Come on,” she muttered, nudging his arm. “We’re training.”

Silco glanced up from his journal, eyes flicking over her appearance. She was still drenched in sweat, streaked with soot, her hair clinging to her skin in places. He could see the exhaustion in the slight slump of her shoulders, but she was determined- he knew better than to try and talk her out of it.

He sighed, closing his journal with a soft thud. “You really sure you want to?” he muttered, standing up.

She shrugged. “Just wanna get it over with.”

Without another word, she turned and started for the door, not bothering to check if he was following. Of course, he was.

The walk back to the mines was quiet, aside from the occasional scrape of her boot against the cobbled streets or the distant murmur of Undercity life around them. Silco didn’t press her to talk. He just walked beside her, hands tucked into his coat pockets, his mind already shifting toward their training.

When they reached the entrance to the mines, she led them deeper, past the active work areas, further into the tunnels they had used before. It was quiet here, the only sound being the occasional drip of water from the ceiling and the faint hum of machinery further in the distance.

She finally stopped, rolling her shoulders and shaking out her hands. “Alright,” she said, exhaling slowly. “Let’s get started.”

She rolled up her sleeves, letting the cool underground air brush against her arms. The soot clinging to her skin didn’t matter- she was too focused on the task at hand. The memory of what she had done two weeks ago lingered in her mind, the way the magic had responded without her even reaching out for it. It had felt different, raw, instinctive. She needed to understand it, to control it.

Reaching up, she unhooked one of the lanterns from the wall, the flame flickering in its glass casing. With a deep breath, she snuffed it out, plunging the space into deeper shadow. The faint glow from the tunnels behind them was enough to see, but here, in the quiet, it felt like she was wrapped in darkness.

She lowered the lantern to the ground and sat next to it, crossing her legs as she exhaled slowly. Silco leaned against the rock wall nearby, watching her intently but saying nothing. He knew better than to interrupt.

Closing her eyes, she reached inward, searching for the pulse of magic that had always been there. Normally, she used her hands, guiding the flow of energy outward like she had taught herself to do long ago. But now… now she wanted to pull from something deeper.

The flame had to return. She just needed to make it happen.

She inhaled deeply, steadying herself as she focused on the golden energy flowing through her veins. It was always there, thrumming beneath the surface, waiting to be called upon. Her fingers twitched, the instinct to reach out nearly overpowering- but she resisted. This time, she needed to let the magic move on its own.

Her breath slowed. The world around her faded away.

A familiar warmth coiled in her chest, spreading outward like sunlight breaking through thick storm clouds. Her eyes fluttered open, now glowing a brilliant gold in the dim underground. The energy pulsed, shifting through her like a heartbeat.

Then, the lantern flickered.

At first, just a spark, weak and fleeting. But then, as she exhaled, willing the magic forward, the flame roared to life, golden and warm, casting long shadows against the rock walls.

Silco watched in quiet awe, his sharp eyes reflecting the light as he studied her. She had done it- without her hands, without a gesture. Just raw, unfiltered power.

The lantern burned steadily, proof that she was growing stronger.

She kept her breathing steady, feeling the warmth of the golden flame as it flickered in front of her. Now that it was lit, the real challenge began- controlling it without any physical movement, relying only on her awareness of the power coursing through her.

She focused, letting herself feel the energy, the way it pulsed in time with her heartbeat. Slowly, she tried to pull back, easing her magic just slightly. The flame responded, shrinking down to a faint ember.

...Good...

Now, she pushed forward, letting a bit more power flow through her. The lantern’s flame grew, dancing with intensity, casting brighter light onto the cavern walls.

She repeated the process- pulling back, pushing forward- adjusting the flame’s size with nothing but her focus. Her hands remained still in her lap, but her eyes glowed as she carefully controlled each shift in power.

Silco stayed quiet beside her, watching intently. He knew this was important for her, a way to regain control after everything that had happened. And from what he could see, she was already getting stronger.

As the golden glow of the flame flickered one last time under her control, (Y/N) exhaled deeply, feeling exhaustion settle into her bones. She had been at this for hours, and while she had made progress, it took everything in her to maintain that level of concentration.

Silco watched as the light in her eyes dimmed, returning to normal as she let go of her magic. He could tell she was worn out, her shoulders slumping slightly as she sat back on her hands.

"That's enough for today," he finally said, standing up and offering her a hand. "You're going to pass out if you push yourself any further."

(Y/N) let out a tired chuckle before grabbing his hand, allowing him to pull her up. "Yeah... I think I’ve had enough of this for one night."

They started making their way back through the mines, the cool underground air a stark contrast to the heat she had been working with. It was quiet between them, but not uncomfortably so. (Y/N) leaned into Silco just slightly as they walked, her exhaustion making her movements sluggish.

By the time they reached the bar, the usual nighttime crowd was already in full swing. Laughter and the clinking of glasses filled the air, the atmosphere lively as people drank away the weight of their own struggles.

(Y/N) barely paid attention as she shoved through the people in her way, making a beeline for the stairs. She was ready for sleep- more than ready.

Silco followed close behind, ensuring she made it upstairs without incident. As she stepped into her room, she glanced back at him, hesitating for a moment before mumbling, "You coming?"

Silco smirked, stepping inside and shutting the door behind him. "You don’t have to ask."

(Y/N) sighed as she stretched her sore muscles, peeling off her sooty work clothes before heading straight for the washroom. The warm water helped ease the ache in her limbs, washing away the grime from the mines and the lingering warmth of her magic. She took her time, letting the steam relax her before finally stepping out, drying off, and slipping into something comfortable.

When she emerged, Silco was already waiting for her, sitting on the edge of her bed, one leg crossed over the other. His sharp eyes followed her as she slumped into the chair by her desk, exhaling tiredly.

Without a word, he pulled out a cigarette, lighting it with a practiced flick. He took a slow drag before holding it out toward her. She hesitated only for a moment before leaning forward, taking it between her fingers and inhaling deeply.

They passed it back and forth in silence, the air between them thick with smoke and quiet understanding. Neither of them needed to speak- this was enough. A moment of peace after everything.

As the cigarette burned down to its final embers, (Y/N) let out a slow sigh, her body finally surrendering to exhaustion. Without a word, she pushed herself up from the chair and made her way to the bed, slipping beneath the blankets. Silco followed shortly after, settling in beside her. They didn’t need to say anything- this had become their routine. She pressed herself close to him, and he wrapped an arm around her waist, his breath warm against her hair as they both drifted off into sleep.

The next few weeks followed the same steady rhythm. (Y/N) would wake early, get ready, and head to the mines to work through the day. She pushed through the exhaustion, the sweat, the grime- anything to keep herself busy. After work, she’d find Silco, and the two of them would slip away into the depths of the mines to train.

She was getting better. At first, controlling the flame without physical gestures had been difficult, but with each session, she grew more confident. She learned to summon her fire at will, to adjust its intensity, and even to move it with nothing but her focus. Silco watched her progress with a quiet intensity, pushing her to go further while always making sure she didn’t push herself too hard.

Meanwhile, the tensions with the Enforcers and Mageseekers slowly faded. The increased patrols had begun to die down, and soon, it was as if everything had returned to normal- or as normal as life in the Undercity could be. The bar was always busy, Felicia and Connol were around often, and Vander continued to build his reputation among the people. Even (Y/N) found herself slipping back into the flow of things, the weight on her chest just a little lighter than before.

The warmth of the bar wrapped around them like an old, familiar embrace. The scent of stew, smoke, and aged whiskey lingered in the air, a comforting mix that felt like home. (Y/N) leaned against the bar, her body still aching from training, but the fatigue was drowned out by the simple pleasure of just being there- just being with them.

Vander, ever the host, tossed a bar towel over his shoulder and leaned against the counter, his sharp eyes sweeping over the three of them. “If you’re all gonna sit there, at least have a drink with me. Feels like it’s been a while since we just sat and talked.”

(Y/N) flicked the last of her cigarette into the ashtray and smirked. “Fine. But you’re taking care of the next round.”

Vander let out a hearty chuckle, shaking his head as he reached for a bottle. “When do I not take care of the rounds?”

For the first time in what felt like forever, there was no tension hanging over them. No talk of Enforcers. No whispers of Mageseekers. Just them, drinks in hand, laughter lingering in the air like an old song.

Then, Felicia got that glint in her eye- the one that spelled trouble.

“Oh no,” (Y/N) muttered, already knowing she was about to regret whatever was coming next.

Felicia slammed her hands on the bar, grinning wide. “You-” she jabbed a finger at (Y/N) “-are coming with me.”

(Y/N) barely had time to react before Felicia grabbed her wrist, yanking her toward the open space near the jukebox.

“Fel- no, wait-”

“Shut up and move,” Felicia shot back, already pulling (Y/N) into the rhythm as the music played.

(Y/N) huffed, but the smirk on her face gave her away. She let herself be dragged into the dance, following Felicia’s lead as the beat pulsed around them. The tension that had been weighing her down for weeks melted away, bit by bit, as they moved. Felicia twirled, laughing, and soon enough, (Y/N) found herself laughing too.

From the bar, Vander and Silco watched the scene unfold with varying levels of amusement.

Vander leaned back with a chuckle, arms crossed. “Didn’t think she’d actually go along with it.”

Silco swirled his drink, smirking. “Oh, she’s got a soft spot for Fel, no doubt about it.”

Vander snorted. “We all do.”

Felicia spun (Y/N) one last time before pulling her into a breathless hug. “See? Told you it wouldn’t kill you.”

(Y/N) rolled her eyes, catching her breath. “Nearly did.”

As they made their way back to the bar, Felicia flopped down first, resting her head on her arms. She glanced between them- Vander, Silco, and (Y/N)- before grinning.

Vander set drinks down in front of them, shaking his head. “What’s the occasion?”

Felicia hummed dramatically, waving a hand lazily. “Can’t a lady just be in the mood to dance with her friend to a familiar song?”

Vander raised a brow. “Not this lady. And not that song.”

Felicia smirked but then softened, leaning on her arms. “Tonight feels perfect… The bar is going good, we haven’t had any trouble in a while, Enforcers are backing off… Who would have thought a few harebrained schemes cooked up by the three of you bozos could turn a dank crack in the earth into a thriving, healthy community… Almost too good to be true.”

Vander let out a quiet laugh, glancing at Silco. “You hear that, Bozo Two? We made it. We’re done.”

Silco tilted his head, giving Vander a small smirk. “Oh, you’re sadly mistaken.” He let his gaze drift toward (Y/N). “I’m Bozo One.”

Vander barked out a laugh. “You said that real quick, like you’ve been waiting your whole life for the title.”

Silco took a slow sip of his drink, completely unfazed. “It’s about time I got the recognition I deserve.”

Felicia cackled, leaning against (Y/N), who shook her head with an amused smirk.

“Then what’s that make me?” (Y/N) asked, raising a brow.

“Bozo Two, obviously,” Felicia said without hesitation. “And Vander’s Bozo Three, because he’s too responsible to be anything else.”

Vander sighed dramatically. “Damn. Stuck with you lot, huh?”

Felicia smirked. “Forever, big guy.”

The four of them sat there, savoring the rare moment of peace, the laughter lingering in the air like an old memory.

But something was off.

Felicia, as usual, had a drink in front of her- but tonight, she hadn’t touched it. Not even once.

(Y/N) leaned her arms against the bar, watching her closely. It wasn’t just the drink. It was the way Felicia held it, fingers barely curled around the rim, as if she didn’t even realize it was there.

“You good?” (Y/N) asked, raising an eyebrow as she took a slow drag from her cigarette.

Felicia snapped out of whatever thoughts had been eating at her, blinking once before glancing toward Silco and Vander. Her fingers tapped against the glass once, twice, before she exhaled sharply and muttered, “Shit.”

Silco’s gaze flicked up from his drink, eyes narrowing slightly. “That bad?”

Felicia let out a humorless chuckle. “Depends on how you look at it,” she muttered, running a hand down her face.

Vander, finally catching onto the shift in the air, leaned against the bar in front of Felicia. His expression softened, concern knitting his brows together. “Alright. Out with it. What’s going on?”

Felicia hesitated. She looked at each of them- Vander, Silco, (Y/N)- before finally sighing.

“I’m knocked up.” She swallowed. “A girl.”

...Silence...

Vander’s eyes widened slightly, but his face remained unreadable. Then, without a word, he reached over, plucked her drink from her hands, and swapped it out with a glass of juice.

Silco, for once, didn’t have anything clever to say. He just blinked, as if waiting for the punchline.

(Y/N) exhaled a slow stream of smoke, tilting her head. “...How do you know?”

Felicia hesitated before answering, rubbing at her temple. “Wasn’t really part of my plan…” she admitted. “But, guess that’s everything when you’re living week to week.”

(Y/N) flicked her cigarette into the ashtray, eyes still studying her. “So… what did Connol say?”

Felicia let out a breath of laughter- small, tired. “Haven’t told him yet. Working up the nerve…” Her fingers drummed absently against the bar. “I don’t know anything about kids- I get sweaty being alone with one.”

Vander reached over, resting a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “Hey,” he said, voice steady, “you’re gonna be a great mother.”

Felicia let out an exhausted laugh, shaking her head as she brushed his hand off. “Shut up… I’m not ready for that.” She sighed, stirring her straw in her untouched drink. “I started trying to come up with a name, and it hit me- this one word is a decision she’s gonna live with her whole life…”

She paused, inhaling deeply before looking at them again. “I can’t protect her from all the shit down here and work out how to be a parent at the same time… Then I realized-” she gave them a small, knowing smile “-I don’t have to.”

(Y/N) hummed, leaning her head against Felicia’s shoulder. “Hmm? Why’s that?”

Felicia smirked. “Because the second I told you, I put you on the hook.”

Vander chuckled.

Felicia didn’t hesitate to continue, looking between them. “You’re not allowed to fail anymore. For her- for me.”

Silco smirked, swirling the last of his drink in his glass. “What’s the point of all this if we can’t raise an ankle biter or two?”

Vander huffed a quiet laugh and lifted his glass. “To Zaun, then.”

They clinked their drinks together.

(Y/N) smirked. “Blisters and bedrock.”

The others echoed the words, their voices carrying softly through the bar.

Vander broke the silence with a thoughtful chuckle. “I’ve always liked the name Violet.”

Felicia laughed softly, something warm settling in her chest. “Guess that’s what it’ll have to be, then, huh?”

The night stretched on, the weight of Felicia’s news lingering in the space she left behind.

Felicia stretched as she stood, smoothing down her shirt with a satisfied sigh. “Well, boys, (Y/N), I think it’s about time I go break the news to Connol.” She grinned, though the flicker of nervous energy behind it didn’t go unnoticed.

Vander gave her a reassuring nod. “You got this, Fel.”

Silco smirked, swirling the last of his drink lazily before taking a sip. “If he’s got half a brain, he’ll be over the moon.”

Felicia huffed out a laugh. “Let’s hope.” She glanced at (Y/N), giving her a light nudge. “And don’t let these two get into any trouble while I’m away.”

(Y/N) rolled her eyes, smirking. “No promises.”

With that, Felicia gave them all one last grin before heading for the door, disappearing into the Undercity night.

That left just the three of them.

The bar was officially closing for the night- chairs stacked on tables, lanterns dimmed, the lively hum of the evening now faded into something softer. The only sounds were the faint echoes of Zaun outside, the distant drip of condensation from the pipes, and the quiet clink of glasses being put away.

(Y/N) leaned back against the booth, drink in hand, as Vander and Silco sat across from her. For a while, none of them spoke. They just sat in easy quiet, letting the weight of everything settle.

Eventually, Vander exhaled deeply, breaking the silence. “Crazy, huh? Feels like just yesterday we were a bunch of reckless kids, and now… a baby.”

Silco scoffed lightly. “Speak for yourself. Some of us are still reckless.”

(Y/N) chuckled into her drink. “Recklessness is a sign of maturity now?”

Silco arched a brow. “Please, I was always the mature one... So of course”

Vander let out a deep laugh, shaking his head. “Oh, that’s rich.”

(Y/N) smirked. “You're just mad Fel called us Bozos.”

Silco took another slow sip of his drink before answering, deadpan, “I earned that title.”

That got a real laugh out of both Vander and (Y/N), the sound of it echoing softly in the near-empty bar.

They stayed like that for a while- drinking, reminiscing, letting the night stretch on. The quiet between them wasn’t heavy, just comfortable. A reminder that, despite everything, they were still here.

Eventually, exhaustion settled in alongside the alcohol, and they made their way upstairs. Vander turned down the hall to his own room with a murmured goodnight, leaving just (Y/N) and Silco lingering at the top of the stairs.

(Y/N) hesitated for a moment before reaching out, fingers brushing against Silco’s. It wasn’t much- just a small, soft touch- but he noticed. He always noticed.

Silco glanced down at their hands before meeting her gaze. His expression was unreadable, but he didn’t pull away.

He let her guide him as she turned, leading him toward her room.

Neither of them spoke as she pushed the door open, stepping inside with him close behind. The familiar space was dimly lit by the streetlights outside, casting long shadows across the walls.

(Y/N) exhaled softly, finally releasing his hand as she ran a hand through her hair.

They didn’t need words. They never really did.

As they lay together, the quiet wrapping around them like a second skin, Silco absently traced patterns along (Y/N)’s back. She was curled up against him, her head resting against his chest, her body still carrying the weight of exhaustion no matter how much she tried to hide it.

Neither of them acknowledged the way they clung to each other.

They just let sleep take them- like most nights.

The dim light of early morning seeped through the cracks in the blinds, casting faint streaks across the worn wooden floor. The air was thick with lingering warmth, the kind that settled into the bones and refused to leave.

(Y/N) slowly blinked awake, her body still heavy with exhaustion. But it wasn’t the usual, aching kind. This was different. This was… grounding. Comforting.

The steady rise and fall of Silco’s chest beneath her cheek, the way his arm was slung around her waist, keeping her close- it was all grounding.

She shifted slightly, testing the space between them, only for Silco’s grip to tighten instinctively, pulling her right back against him.

Still half-asleep, his breathing was slow and steady, fingers twitching slightly against the small of her back.

She tilted her head up slightly, peering at Silco’s face. He looked… calm. Peaceful.

The sharp lines of his face were softened by sleep, his usually narrowed eyes still closed, and for once, there was no tension in his expression.

She smirked slightly. “Didn’t take you for a clingy sleeper,” she murmured, voice still hoarse from sleep.

Silco hummed but didn’t open his eyes. “Didn’t take you for someone who would complain about it,” he shot back, his voice low and rough with sleep.

(Y/N) chuckled, shaking her head before pressing her forehead against his chest. “I’m not.”

Silco let out a quiet breath, finally cracking one eye open to glance down at her. “…You sleep okay?”

(Y/N) thought about it for a moment before nodding. “Yeah,” she admitted. “I did… I like sleeping with you.”

Silco studied her for a second before simply pulling her back down against him. “Good,” he murmured. “Then we’re staying like this a little longer.”

(Y/N) didn’t argue.

She let herself sink back into him, the steady beat of his heart under her ear lulling her into something dangerously close to sleep.

But eventually… they had to get up.

As they got dressed, Silco couldn’t seem to keep his hands to himself.

Every time (Y/N) turned around, he was there- fingers brushing over her arm, his palm pressing against the small of her back, lips ghosting over her shoulder as she adjusted her shirt.

She smirked, glancing at him over her shoulder. “You’re being needy,” she teased.

Silco, utterly unapologetic, hummed as he slid his arms around her waist from behind, pulling her against him. “And?” he murmured, pressing a slow kiss to the side of her neck.

(Y/N) rolled her eyes, but she didn’t push him away.

“And if we don’t get moving, Vander’s gonna come knocking, and I don’t think you want him barging in here.”

Silco huffed against her skin, but didn’t immediately let go. Instead, he turned her around in his arms, leaning in to kiss her properly- slow and deep, fingers tangling in her hair.

By the time he pulled back, (Y/N) was breathless, her grip tightening on his shirt.

“…You’re trying to distract me,” she accused.

Silco smirked. “Is it working?”

(Y/N) narrowed her eyes at him before shoving his chest lightly. “Come on, we’ve got things to do.”

Silco sighed dramatically but finally relented, letting her step away- though not before sneaking in one last kiss to her temple.

“Fine,” he murmured. “But don’t think for a second that I’m done with you.”

(Y/N) shook her head with a chuckle. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

With that, they finally headed downstairs, ready to face the day- though Silco still kept a hand on her, like he wasn’t quite willing to let go just yet.

As they stepped into the main area of the bar, (Y/N) felt the weight of Silco’s hand on the small of her back- a constant, grounding presence. His touch was deliberate, fingers lingering against her skin as he guided her through the space.

Felicia, already at the bar, raised an eyebrow as she caught sight of them.

“Well, well,” she mused, arms crossed. “This is becoming sort of a habit for you two, huh?”

(Y/N) rolled her eyes, playing it off, but Silco only smirked, making no effort to move his hand.

Vander, standing behind the counter, shot them both a knowing look before shaking his head with a chuckle. “You two finally gonna admit whatever this is?”

(Y/N) opened her mouth to respond, but Silco beat her to it.

“We don’t owe anyone an explanation,” he said smoothly, though his fingers absentmindedly traced circles against (Y/N)’s hip.

Felicia snorted. “That’s a fancy way of saying you haven’t figured it out yet.”

(Y/N) took a sip of the drink Vander had just placed in front of her, choosing to ignore the heat creeping up her neck. Because, in truth, they hadn’t talked about it- not really.

What they were. What they meant to each other.

Sure, they had exchanged “I love you’s,” but they had never exactly labeled anything.

But as Silco’s grip subtly tightened, as if silently telling her he wasn’t going anywhere, (Y/N) realized that maybe… they didn’t need to define it. Not yet.

She had just lit her cigarette when, without missing a beat, Silco plucked it from her fingers and took a slow drag, smirking as he exhaled the smoke.

She shot him an unimpressed look. “Really?”

He gave a lazy shrug. “You’ll live.”

Rather than argue, she just leaned against him, reaching up to take it back- but instead of fighting her on it, Silco simply held it between them, offering it up for her to share.

Felicia, watching the exchange, shook her head with a grin. “You two are somethin’ else.”

Vander chuckled, arms crossed as he leaned against the counter. “Alright, enough of that. How’d Connol take the news?”

Felicia sighed, running a hand through her hair before grabbing a glass. “Better than I thought, honestly. He panicked, sure, but not in a bad way. Just- y’know. Like holy shit, this is real kind of panic.” She took a sip of water, shrugging. “But after that, he just held me. Told me we’d figure it out.”

Vander nodded, a small, proud smile tugging at his lips. “Good man.”

Silco, exhaling another stream of smoke before passing the cig back to (Y/N), raised a brow. “You think he’s actually ready?”

Felicia huffed a laugh. “Hell no. But neither am I.” She drummed her fingers against the counter. “But we’ll get there... Eventually.”

(Y/N), taking another drag, studied her friend for a moment before smirking. “You know this means we’re gonna be uncles and an aunt, right?”

Felicia snorted. “Oh, fuck. You three? As family?” She groaned dramatically. “I might’ve made a mistake.”

They all laughed, but (Y/N) could see it- the way Felicia’s shoulders weren’t as tense anymore.

She was nervous, but knowing they had her back? That made all the difference.

Ember in the Dark pt.7

Young!Silco x Fem!Reader

pt.6 - pt.8

pt.1

Warnings: Violence, Threats, Murder, Injury, Moral Dilemmas, Alcohol use, Smoking, Tension/Fear, Kidnapping/Imprisonment, Mild Intimacy/Implied Sexual Content.

Word Count: 7743

Summary: The group gathers at The Last Drop to plan an ambush on Enforcers connected to the Mageseekers. (Y/N) and Felicia gather intel, learning about the Enforcers’ habits, leading to a successful ambush the next night. Captured Enforcers reveal that only their captain knew about (Y/N), sparking a tense debate on whether to release or kill them. (Y/N) ultimately kills them, causing tension within the group. They then plan to abduct the Enforcer captain, with (Y/N) insisting on handling his execution alone, though Silco refuses to leave her side. As Enforcer patrols increase, the group lays low, reopening the bar. (Y/N) struggles with the weight of her actions, finding solace in Silco’s quiet support while the others keep their distance. The group braces for what comes next.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The others were already gathered.

Vander stood behind the bar, pouring drinks, his broad frame a familiar presence in the dimly lit space. Benzo leaned against a chair, speaking quietly with Connol, who had recently shown up. Felicia sat cross-legged on a table, flipping a pencil between her fingers with absentminded ease, her gaze distant as she listened to the low hum of conversation.

Silco was the first to notice (Y/N).

His sharp gaze flickered up from where he stood near Vander, a cigarette between his fingers. For a moment, something softened in his expression- just for a breath, a heartbeat- before it disappeared behind the usual cool detachment he carried in front of the others.

(Y/N) walked over to the bar, planting her hands on the worn wood.

“So,” she said, glancing between them. “Time to find more out about the Enforcers?”

Silco tapped ash from his cigarette, his gaze steady.

“We move out now, get back by mid-day,” he declared. “We'll split up, sort of like we did yesterday. Go to all the normal spots, see if anyone knows their usual schedules or hangouts.”

(Y/N) nodded, ignoring the lingering ache from the fresh scar on her abdomen. She had no time to dwell on it. Not when there was work to do.

“Then let’s get ready,” she said, her tone resolute.

One by one, they gathered their belongings and left the relative safety of the Last Drop. The bar’s heavy wooden door closed behind them, sealing in the group’s secrets and plans as they stepped into the shadowy labyrinth of the Undercity.

(Y/N) was with Felicia this time.

The boys had tried to protest, not wanting the two of them to go off on their own. (Y/N) didn’t like that. Neither did Felicia.

They weren’t weak. They didn’t need men to protect them.

Navigating through the twisting streets of the Undercity, they moved with practiced efficiency. Their destination was one of the more well-known bars, a place with enough reputation that information tended to slip through the cracks if one knew where to listen.

Vander and the owner had a bit of a friendly rivalry, but despite that, the man was still considered a friend- of sorts.

Pushing through the bar’s doors, the two of them stepped inside, their presence drawing a few curious glances before the patrons returned to their drinks. The air was thick with smoke and the scent of cheap liquor.

(Y/N) and Felicia approached the counter, where the owner stood polishing a glass with a rag that had seen better days. His gaze flicked up, landing on them with mild interest.

“Ladies,” he greeted with a slow nod. “What brings you ‘round today?”

“Just a few questions,” Felicia said, tilting her head. “About Enforcers.”

The owner’s expression didn’t change, but there was a pause before he set the glass down.

“Depends on what you’re askin’,” he said.

They asked, and he answered- mostly. Nothing too specific, but enough to give them a few useful pieces of information.

With that, they moved on, slipping back into the streets, their ears open for anything else that might be of use.

By the time they finished checking their designated locations, the weight of exhaustion had begun to creep in, but they didn’t let it slow them. There was no room for weariness, not in this game.

Their feet carried them back to the Last Drop, their minds already sorting through what they had learned.

The scent of smoke and alcohol lingered in the air as (Y/N) and Felicia stepped back into the Last Drop.

Silco was leaning against the bar, cigarette between his fingers, exhaling a slow stream of smoke. His sharp gaze flicked toward them, scanning them over, lingering just a second longer on (Y/N). He didn’t say anything, but the way his posture shifted slightly- shoulders easing just the faintest bit- told her enough.

Benzo and Connol had already settled into their usual spots, while Vander leaned against the bar, arms crossed over his chest. His expression was unreadable, but there was an unmistakable tension in his stance, one that loosened as soon as they walked through the door.

The bar remained closed for now. They had more important matters to attend to.

“Anything?” Silco asked, tapping ash from his cigarette.

Felicia was the first to speak. “The three other Enforcers? They come down into that bar by the edge of the city sometimes,” she said, nodding toward (Y/N) as if to confirm. “Says it’s better to drink in the Undercity- less chance of anyone from Piltover seeing them plastered. That bar’s closer to the bridge than the others, makes it easy for them.”

Silco hummed, considering.

Vander nodded, rubbing a hand over his jaw. “That checks out.”

“We found out about the captain,” Benzo added, glancing toward Connol. “He goes to the brothel near midnight on the weekends. Regular enough that no one questions it.”

(Y/N) crossed her arms, exhaling. “So we take the three from the bar after their patrol tomorrow,” she mused, thinking through the steps. “Then we wait for the weekend… get the captain when he goes to the brothel.”

There was a beat of silence as they all considered it.

“That’s the best way to do it,” Vander agreed. “Separate them, take ‘em out cleanly. No mess.”

Silco took another drag from his cigarette before exhaling slowly. “Then we move tomorrow night,” he said decisively, his gaze flicking between them all. “No mistakes.”

A silent understanding passed between them.

The tension that had gripped them all slowly ebbed away as Vander let out a heavy sigh.

“We use the rest of the night to rest,” he decided, his tone leaving no room for argument. “We’ve got until tomorrow night before we need to act. No point in running ourselves into the ground before then.”

No one disagreed. The weight of their plan lingered, but exhaustion crept in beneath it, a silent acknowledgment that they’d done enough for tonight.

Benzo and Connol were the first to leave, exchanging brief nods before heading out into the streets. Felicia lingered only a moment longer before following, her fingers brushing against Connol’s arm as they disappeared through the door together.

Vander stretched, rolling the stiffness from his shoulders. “I’ll be in the back,” he muttered, already moving toward the storage room. “Still got work to do around here.”

That left only (Y/N) and Silco.

The bar was quiet now, the usual hum of voices replaced by the faint creak of wood settling and the distant echo of the city outside.

(Y/N) took a slow sip from her drink before leaning her head against Silco’s shoulder. His body tensed for the briefest moment before he exhaled, allowing himself to relax. They sat like that, the air between them warmer, softer, now that there was no one around to see.

Their conversation was quiet, words exchanged just above a whisper. Eventually, they both decide to head upstairs. 

Silco’s room was only a few steps down the hall, but neither of them acknowledged the idea of sleeping apart. It had become habit now- something unspoken, something neither of them questioned.

(Y/N) stepped into her closet to changed into a nightgown, a rare choice for her, but the soft fabric didn’t press against her stitches as much as her usual clothes. Silco pulled off his shirt without much thought, disappearing into his room for only a moment before returning in loose-fitting pants.

When they settled into bed, (Y/N) instinctively rested her head against his chest, her fingers tracing idle patterns over his skin. Silco’s arm draped loosely around her, his touch neither possessive nor hesitant- just there, solid, grounding.

For a while, neither of them spoke. The weight of what was coming pressed down on them both, an unspoken tension in the dimly lit room.

Then, finally, Silco broke the silence.

“How do you really feel about it?” he asked, his voice low. “The Enforcers. The Mageseekers. What we might have to do.”

(Y/N) stilled, her fingers pausing against his skin.

She had thought about it, of course. Turned it over and over in her mind until the edges of it became dull. But saying it out loud was something else entirely.

“I don’t want to hurt anyone,” she admitted, voice quiet. “But I’m so tired of running. I’m tired of not being able to fight back.”

Silco hummed, a sound of understanding. He was silent for a moment before he murmured, “I could do it. You shouldn’t have to.”

(Y/N) tilted her head up, meeting his gaze in the dim light. His blue eyes held something unreadable, something heavy. He meant it- he would take that burden if she let him.

But she shook her head.

“No,” she whispered. “This is my problem. My magic caused all of this. I have to end it.”

Silco studied her for a long moment, something shifting in his gaze. Then, slowly, he nodded.

“Alright.”

There was no argument, no trying to convince her otherwise. Just understanding.

(Y/N) exhaled and rested her head back against his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath her ear.

Neither of them slept easily that night, but at least they weren’t alone.

The next day dragged on, tension thick in the air as they prepared for the night ahead. The bar remained closed, its usual noise and movement replaced by a heavy silence. Vander spent most of the afternoon going over the plan, making sure every detail was clear. Silco sat at one of the tables, sharpening his knife with slow, deliberate movements, while (Y/N) paced, the anticipation gnawing at her.

They knew it wouldn’t be easy. Dragging three Enforcers off the streets without attracting attention was a risk, even with the cover of darkness. But it was necessary.

As night fell, the others returned. Felicia, Connol, and Benzo slipped into the bar, their expressions grim but resolved. There was little left to say. They all knew their roles.

Once they were ready, they moved out, silent shadows slipping through the Undercity’s winding streets.

The bar was already alive with noise by the time they reached it. Laughter, shouting, the clatter of mugs against wood. They didn’t dare get too close. Instead, they took up position in an abandoned building across the street, peering through the broken windows, waiting.

Waiting for the Enforcers to stumble out, drunk and unaware of what was coming.

The wait had been long, stretching the nerves of the group thin, but the moment the Enforcers stumbled out of the bar, all tension sharpened into focus. They moved quickly, slipping out of the abandoned building and tailing the men at a distance, keeping to the shadows.

The Enforcers were drunk, careless. Two carried their helmets under their arms, while the third still wore his, though it was tilted slightly, like he hadn’t fastened it properly. They barely looked around as they made their way down the street, laughing among themselves.

As soon as they stepped into a quiet, open alley, the group struck.

Silco and Connol shoved the men forward, sending one sprawling onto the ground while the others stumbled, cursing as they tried to steady themselves. Their sluggish reflexes barely gave them time to register the ambush before they threw up clumsy fists, falling into sloppy defensive stances… It was pathetic, really.

Vander and Benzo didn’t waste time. They surged forward, wrestling the men to the ground with ease. The Enforcers struggled, but their drunken state made it no contest. The ropes were brought out, wrists and ankles bound tight before they even had the chance to fully process what was happening.

Silco knelt, pressing a knife to one of the men’s throats when he started to thrash too much. “Don’t be stupid,” he muttered. The Enforcer stilled.

They worked quickly, each taking hold of one of the prisoners, dragging them through the maze of alleyways toward the warehouse. The Enforcers grunted, groaned, but they were too outnumbered, too tightly restrained to put up a real fight.

By the time they reached the warehouse, the weight of the night settled in. The Mageseekers inside had company now. And soon, the real work would begin.

The Enforcers sat slumped against the far wall of the warehouse, wrists and ankles still bound. Their drunken haze was already wearing off, reality setting in fast as they took in their surroundings. Then their gazes landed on (Y/N), and the tension in the air thickened. Recognition dawned in their eyes, and with it, a flicker of fear.

Silco didn’t hesitate. He stepped forward, his sharp blue eyes narrowing as he looked down at them. The cigarette between his fingers smoldered, the tip glowing faintly in the dim warehouse light. “Let’s make this easy,” he said, voice low, dangerous. “Tell me everything you know about why the Mageseekers want her.”

The Enforcers exchanged glances but stayed silent.

Silco let out a slow exhale, then crouched in front of the closest one. “Do you know what happens to people who don’t answer my questions?” His voice was soft, almost conversational, but there was an unmistakable edge to it. He reached out, grabbing the man’s jaw, forcing him to look up. “Because I can show you.”

The man swallowed hard, but before Silco could take it further, Vander stepped in. “Silco.” His voice was firm, a warning. He grabbed Silco’s shoulder, pulling him back slightly. “Let me handle this.”

Silco tensed, his fingers twitching against the Enforcer’s jaw before he finally let go, standing to the side with a scowl.

Vander crouched in his place, resting his forearms on his knees as he studied the men. “We already know you were the ones who sent the Mageseekers after (Y/N),” he said, his voice even but unyielding. “What we need to know is whether anyone else knows about it.”

The Enforcers hesitated, glancing at one another again. The one with the helmet still on shifted uncomfortably. “No one else knows,” he admitted after a long moment. “Just the Captain. He’s the one who gave the orders, after we told him about the girl…”

Vander studied him for a second, as if weighing whether to believe him. Then he nodded. “That’s all we needed to hear.”

The Captain was the last loose end. They had until the weekend to deal with him.

The group left all nine tied-up men on the far side of the warehouse, their muffled protests and shifting movements the only sounds in the otherwise still air. Connol stayed behind to watch them, leaning against a crate, arms crossed, eyes sharp despite the exhaustion settling into all of them.

The rest moved toward the opposite side of the building, away from prying ears. The moment they were out of earshot, Vander let out a heavy breath. “Alright. What now?”

“We let them go,” Felicia said, crossing her arms. “Once we have the Captain, we send them off on a boat. Make sure they don’t come back.”

“Send them where?” Silco’s voice was flat, unimpressed. “It will only make things worse.”

“They’ll be too scared to come back,” Vander argued. “They got caught once, they won’t risk it again.”

Silco scoffed. “Or they’ll run straight to their superiors, tell them everything, and then we’ll have even more people coming after us.”

Felicia frowned. “Then we make sure they don’t have the option. We send them somewhere far. Somewhere they won’t be able to find their way back from.”

“And what stops them from talking the moment they step foot on land?” Silco countered. His patience was wearing thin. “Or getting picked up by a Piltover patrol before they even leave the docks?”

Vander exhaled sharply, rubbing a hand down his face. “Alright, Silco. You keep shooting down every idea. What do you suggest?”

Silco didn’t hesitate. “We kill them.”

A heavy silence fell over the group.

Benzo shifted, frowning. “Nine people, Silco? You really think that’s the best option?” His voice was hesitant but firm. “Where would we put the bodies? What about the mess? And-” he hesitated, glancing around at the others, “-what about the morality of it all?”

Silco’s jaw tightened. “Morality?” he echoed, voice laced with something cold. “Morality didn’t stop them from coming after (Y/N). It didn’t stop them from dragging Mageseekers into our streets.”

The argument grew from there, voices rising, frustration mounting as each side defended their stance. (Y/N) just stood there, listening, watching as they went back and forth.

Then, without a word, she turned and started walking away.

At first, none of them noticed. But when she didn’t stop, when she kept heading toward the far side of the warehouse- toward the bound men near Connol- one by one, they fell silent.

All eyes followed her.

Their argument halted, replaced by something else. Worry. Curiosity. Unease.

(Y/N) didn’t look back. She didn’t need to. She could feel their gazes on her, feel the weight of their concern pressing down on her shoulders.

And yet, she kept walking.

She knelt down in front of the three Enforcers, her tired eyes studying them as she offered a small, almost sympathetic smile.

“Do I scare you?” she asked, her voice quiet, almost gentle. “Is that why all of this was necessary?”

The men shrunk back, their bodies tensing at her proximity. One of them, the one still wearing his helmet, glared at her. “You have magic. You’re dangerous.”

She hummed, nodding as if he had just made an astute observation. “Yeah… You’re right. I am.”

She let the words settle, then tilted her head. “Wanna see something?”

Slowly, deliberately, she rolled up her sleeves, revealing the golden marks that traced along her skin like veins of liquid fire. The faint shimmer of her magic pulsed beneath her skin, the glow dancing across the worn floor of the warehouse.

“I’ve learned a lot since you three chased me into that alley,” she mused, her voice holding something almost playful. “I can control most of my magic now. Isn’t that fun?”

The men tensed, their eyes flickering between her face and the golden light curling along her forearms.

She flicked her wrist, and a small flame of golden energy ignited in her palm, bathing that side of the building in a brilliant glow. The light danced across the Enforcers’ terrified faces, casting deep shadows against the walls.

“Every time I use my magic,” she murmured, watching the way the flames flickered and pulsed, “it seems to get stronger… I wonder if it will ever have an end.”

She lifted her gaze, staring into the eyes of the Enforcer who had spoken. The fire in her palm pulsed.

“Let’s find out.”

With a simple flick of her wrist, golden fire leapt from her fingers and engulfed the five Mageseekers bound a few feet away.

The flames didn’t spread. They didn’t catch on the wood or crates stacked nearby. The fire remained contained, wrapping itself around the Mageseekers like living threads of gold.

But their screams- those spread.

The men thrashed against their bindings, their voices raw with agony as the fire consumed them. The golden glow reflected in the wide, horrified eyes of the Enforcers still bound before her.

The scent of burning flesh filled the warehouse.

(Y/N) watched, her expression unreadable.

She turned back to the Enforcers, her expression eerily calm despite the agonized screams echoing behind her. The golden fire still flickered at her fingertips, casting an unearthly glow against the cold warehouse walls.

“This is your fault,” she said, her voice quiet but unwavering. “I hope you know that. Not once have I ever intentionally hurt anyone with my magic… until now.”

The three Enforcers remained frozen, eyes wide with terror, the flickering fire reflected in their glossy stares.

She sighed, letting the weight of it settle in her chest, ignoring the way her friends stared at her. She could feel their gazes, the horror, the sadness.

Silco.

He looked at her with something different- worry. He knew she had been the one who wanted to act, who had refused to run any longer. If they had to kill, she had said she would do it.

But this?

He hadn’t expected this.

She dusted her hands against her pants as she stood, shaking off the dirt and dust.

“People like you three,” she continued, her tone still steady, still quiet, “are what make me dangerous.”

She let the words linger in the air.

“You fear what you don’t understand, so you attack it without a second thought.”

The golden light in her irises flared, her expression turning unreadable as she took a slow step back.

“This is the consequence of that.”

Her eyes pulsed, and before the Enforcers could even scream, golden fire erupted around them, swallowing them whole.

She didn’t lift a finger.

She didn’t have to.

She let the fire burn until there was nothing left. No bodies, no bones, not even the metal they had worn. The golden flames consumed it all, leaving behind only dust that drifted in the dim warehouse light.

Silence.

No one spoke.

The air was thick, heavy with something unspoken. Something irreversible.

(Y/N) took a slow breath, watching the last embers flicker out as she let her magic fade. The golden glow in her eyes dimmed, and the warehouse was left in its natural gloom once more.

Still, no one said anything.

She didn’t look at them. Not Silco, not Vander, not Felicia, or Benzo, or Connol.

Without a word, she turned away, her steps measured, deliberate.

She pulled her mother’s cloak tighter around her shoulders as she left, the fabric shielding her from the chill of the Undercity air. But no amount of warmth could shake the weight settling in her chest.

She didn’t stop walking.

She went back to the bar alone.

She made herself comfortable at the bar, settling into one of the stools as she grabbed an already half-empty bottle of whiskey. Without hesitation, she took a swig straight from the bottle, letting the burn settle deep in her chest. She knew they would come back soon. Knew they would want to talk.

And she dreaded it.

She had acted. She had done what needed to be done. There was nothing left to discuss.

Time passed, though she wasn’t sure how long. Eventually, she heard the door creak open, heavy footsteps filling the space as the others returned. She didn’t look up, only swirling the whiskey in the bottle absentmindedly.

She assumed they had taken care of the rest- cleaned up the mess she left behind, though there was little evidence to dispose of. Dust didn’t leave much of a trail.

The air in the room shifted the moment they saw her at the bar. No one said anything right away, but the tension was thick.

Silco was the first to move. He strode forward without hesitation, quickly taking the seat beside her. His presence was steady, unwavering. He already knew- he had already decided. No matter what the others had to say, he was going to defend her.

One by one, the others followed, finding their usual places around the bar. Their gazes lingered on her, some filled with uncertainty, others unreadable.

She took another slow sip from the bottle, waiting for someone to break the silence.

Vander was the one who finally broke the silence.

"We crossed a line tonight."

His voice was steady, but there was something tired in it. A weight that pressed into the words, heavier than the water he was carefully pouring into a glass for Felicia.

"Can’t take that back."

(Y/N) met his gaze, unflinching. "I don’t want to take it back."

Vander sighed, setting down the glass in front of Felicia before rubbing his temple. "That’s what worries me."

Silco scoffed and lit up a cigarette, inhaling deeply before speaking. "Spare us the moralizing, Vander. The Mageseekers were never going to stop. They would’ve killed her. They would’ve killed all of us."

Benzo gave a slow nod. "He’s got a point. We all knew what we were getting into."

Vander shook his head, looking down at the bar. "Doesn’t mean I have to like it."

Felicia leaned forward, setting her glass of water down with a soft clink. "Like it or not, it’s done. And now we need to figure out our next move."

Her gaze flickered toward (Y/N). "The Mageseekers are dead, and so are the three Enforcers. We only have the captain left to deal with."

(Y/N) took a slow sip of her drink, rolling the thought over in her mind. "If we let the captain go back, they’ll come down on us with everything they have…" She set the bottle down with a dull thud. "We need to make sure that doesn’t happen."

Silco flicked ash into the tray beside him. "And that means we need to deal with him the same way we dealt with the others."

Vander grunted. "We started poking at Piltover. That means we’re risking getting all of the Undercity caught in the fire."

(Y/N) met his gaze, her voice calm but firm. "It’s already in the fire, Vander. Most just don’t know it yet."

A tense silence settled over them, thick and suffocating.

Then, Benzo broke it with a tired sigh. "So, what’s the plan?"

(Y/N) tapped her fingers against the bar, considering their options. "I think it’s obvious what I think we should do…"

Felicia sighed, shaking her head. "And if we kill them? What then? We just start killing everyone who gives us a problem? That’s not who we are."

(Y/N) met her gaze, her expression unreadable. "They had no problem wanting to kill us." She then sat back, feeling the burn of whiskey in her throat and the weight of the night settling into her bones.

There was no turning back now. And she wouldn’t have it any other way.

The silence stretched between them, the unspoken heavy in the air. They all knew there was only one path forward.

“We stick to the plan,” Vander finally said, his voice quieter than before. “We take the captain from the brothel on the weekend, bring him to the warehouse.”

The same warehouse where (Y/N) had burned the others to nothing.

She could see the way they looked at her now. Felicia, troubled. Benzo, uncertain. Connol, wary. Even Vander, who had always been steady, seemed to hesitate before meeting her gaze. And Silco- he wasn’t afraid, but there was something else there. Something she couldn’t name.

It was the same look she had always been running from.

She had given them a reason to be scared of her.

Maybe they should be scared.

She was.

Felicia let out a long sigh as she stood, rolling the tension from her shoulders. “We should get some rest while we can. If we're serious about doing this, we're going to need our strength.”

Benzo and Connol muttered in agreement, already heading toward the front door to leave. Vander lingered a little longer. He gave (Y/N) a long, unreadable look before clapping a hand on her shoulder. “Get some sleep. You’ll need it.”

(Y/N) only nodded, watching as he turned and disappeared down the hallway.

That left just her and Silco.

He was still seated at the bar, his sharp eyes flicked toward her, thoughtful. “You made your choice tonight,” he murmured. “No going back from that.”

(Y/N) met his gaze, steady. “I know.”

A flicker of something unreadable crossed his face before he let out a low hum, pushing himself up from his seat. “Then let’s make sure it wasn’t in vain.”

She nodded and stood, heading toward the stairs. But at the base of them, she hesitated. She glanced over her shoulder, watching Silco as he finished the rest of his cigarette, leaning against the bar. He caught her gaze immediately.

(Y/N) shifted, fingers brushing over the edge of her sleeve before she finally spoke, her voice quieter than usual. “Come with me again?”

Silco’s gaze softened just a fraction. He didn’t answer right away, he simply put out his cigarette. Then, without a word, he followed her up the stairs.

Inside her room, she shut the door behind them, leaning against it for a brief moment. The exhaustion from the long day weighed heavy on her shoulders, but there was something else, too- something unspoken lingering between them.

Silco stepped closer, watching her with that same quiet intensity. “You don’t have to keep asking,” he murmured. “I’ll stay as long as you want me to.”

(Y/N) exhaled slowly, then reached for his hand, lacing her fingers with his.

“Then stay.”

…He did…

Silco loosened his vest and unbuttoned his shirt, slipping off his boots before settling onto the bed. (Y/N) did the same, slipping beneath the covers, her body still warm from the long day. The room was dim, only the faint glow of the Undercity’s distant lights filtering in through the window. As soon as they were both settled, (Y/N) instinctively moved closer, and Silco welcomed her into his arms without hesitation. His embrace was firm yet careful, like he was afraid she might slip away. She rested her head against his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat.

Silco exhaled, his fingers tracing slow, absentminded patterns against her back.

“You’re warm,” he muttered, his voice hushed in the quiet of the room.

(Y/N) hummed, pressing closer. “So are you.”

For a long while, neither of them spoke. They simply laid there, holding onto each other, wrapped in the kind of comfort they both rarely allowed themselves. Eventually, Silco whispered,

“Get some rest. I’ll be here when you wake up.”

(Y/N)’s fingers curled slightly against his chest, her eyelids growing heavy.

“Promise?”

Silco pressed a soft kiss to the top of her head.

“Promise.”

And with that, she let herself drift off, safe in the warmth of his arms.

As the morning light seeped through the curtains, (Y/N) stirred first, her body still tangled with Silco’s. She felt the steady rise and fall of his chest beneath her cheek, the warmth of his arm draped loosely around her waist. For a moment, she simply lay there, breathing him in, letting herself enjoy the quiet comfort of waking up beside him.

Silco shifted slightly, a soft sigh escaping him as his fingers instinctively tightened around her. His other hand absentmindedly traced up her spine before his tired voice finally broke the silence.

“Good morning…”

(Y/N) hummed sleepily, tilting her head up to meet his gaze. His blue eyes were still heavy with sleep, his expression softer than she was used to seeing.

“Morning,” she murmured, brushing a hand over his chest before resting it there.

They stayed like that for a while, neither of them in any rush to move. It was strange- being this close, this vulnerable- but it was becoming familiar. Natural.

Silco smirked slightly, his fingers grazing her jaw. “If we keep waking up like this, I might start thinking you enjoy my company.”

(Y/N) rolled her eyes but couldn’t stop the small smile that tugged at her lips. “Maybe I do.”

His smirk softened at that, and without another word, he leaned in, pressing a lingering kiss to her forehead.

“We should probably get up,” (Y/N) murmured after a while, though she made no effort to move just yet.

“Probably,” Silco agreed, but neither of them did. Not for a little while longer.

Eventually, Silco was the first to pull away, stretching with a quiet groan before rolling out of bed. (Y/N) watched him for a moment before forcing herself to do the same, though the lingering warmth of their shared space made it difficult. They moved around each other in comfortable silence as they got dressed, stealing occasional glances but saying little.

(Y/N) pulled her hair back, securing it loosely. Silco buttoned up his shirt, his sharp eyes flicking toward her.

“Ready?”

(Y/N) exhaled, nodding. “Yeah.”

With that, they made their way downstairs into the bar, where the others were already gathering.

The scent of smoke and cheap liquor still clung to the air from the night before, mingling with the smog-filled morning breeze drifting in through the cracked windows. Vander stood behind the counter, talking quietly with Benzo, while Felicia and Connol sat at one of the tables.

Felicia was the first to notice them. She raised an eyebrow but didn’t comment, though the knowing smirk she shot (Y/N) said enough.

“Took your time getting up,” Vander remarked, glancing between the two of them with mild suspicion.

Silco only rolled his eyes, moving past him toward the counter. “Not all of us enjoy waking up at the crack of dawn, Vander.”

Vander sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. “Alright… We need a plan.”

Silco leaned forward, elbows on the counter. “I don’t think it’s that hard. We kill him, simple as that.”

(Y/N) nodded, tapping her fingers against the table. “I can just use my magic again. It’s not like it’s hard anymore…”

Benzo exhaled. “We know that part… I think he meant about after the killing part. Enforcers will be crawling everywhere looking for them. Thankfully, we won’t have any bodies to get rid of since (Y/N)’s magic burns it all… But that doesn’t mean we’re in the clear.”

Felicia looked up from the empy cup she had been playing with. “We need to stay low for a while. No heists, no bad jobs. We work in the mines and in the bar and leave it at that for a while.”

Vander grunted. “It’s not ideal, but we don’t have a choice. We’re running out of options.” He looked at (Y/N). “What do you think?”

(Y/N) met Vander’s gaze, resolve hardening in her chest. “We can all get him, bring him to the warehouse… But after that, I’ll handle it on my own. No need to have everyone see it…”

Silco sighed quietly, as if he expected her answer. “No, you’re not. I’m staying with you.”

Her jaw tightened, and she exhaled through her nose. “I don’t need to be babysat. I’m killing someone, Sil. I already killed nine others… I don’t need you there.”

Silco nodded. “I know. But I want to be there.”

Felicia frowned, worry clear in her eyes, but she didn’t argue. She knew (Y/N) was struggling with the fact that she had hurt people, let alone that many.

Benzo crossed his arms. “It’s best if he goes with you, (Y/N)… We shouldn’t be going many places alone now. Need to lay low, remember?”

(Y/N) glanced at Silco. “Fine…”

He let out a quiet chuckle, though it sounded a bit forced. “So stubborn…”

Vander sighed, rubbing his temple. “This is the last time we do this… No more of this shit…”

Felicia, who had been listening quietly, nodded. “After this, we shouldn’t have any more issues with Enforcers or Mageseekers… We just need to stay hidden, or at least keep (Y/N) hidden…”

Benzo straightened. “Like we said, no more risky jobs, no more picking fights…”

A heavy silence settled between them, the weight of what was to come pressing down like a slow-building storm. None of them liked it. None of them wanted to do this. But they had already crossed the line. There was no turning back now.

The bar had been quiet at first, but as the day dragged on, more familiar faces filtered in, and soon, the place was filled with the low hum of conversation and the occasional clink of glasses. Vander had decided it was as good a day as any to open the doors again. They had three days until the plan was set into motion, and keeping themselves busy was the best way to keep suspicion off their backs.

The Enforcers were already on edge. Three of their own had vanished without a trace, and now patrols were becoming more frequent, their presence lingering like a bad omen in the streets of the Undercity. No one spoke about it outright, but they all felt it. The tension. The way people glanced over their shoulders more often. The way silence stretched a little too long when an Enforcer passed by the bar’s entrance.

But they stuck to the plan. No fighting. No unnecessary risks. Just the bar and the mines.

(Y/N) kept herself close to Silco, and he let her. She barely left his side, though whether it was for her own sake or his, he couldn’t say. Maybe it was both. He knew she was struggling- he could see it in the way she paced when she thought no one was watching, the way her hands trembled slightly as she lit another cigarette, the way she drank just enough to take the edge off but never enough to lose control.

She was trying to reconcile with the fact that when this was over, ten people would be dead by her hands.

So Silco stayed with her. He didn’t try to talk her out of it, didn’t tell her to stop drinking or smoking, didn’t tell her it would get easier. He just sat with her, journal in hand, scribbling down his thoughts while she went through the motions of coping. Every so often, she’d mutter something- an observation about the bar, a sharp remark about the Enforcers, or a question about whatever he was writing.

And every time, he answered.

Sometimes with words. Sometimes with a glance. Sometimes just by setting his journal aside for a while and sitting with her in the quiet.

The others noticed, of course. Vander cast wary glances at the two of them but didn’t say anything. Benzo seemed to understand well enough. Felicia… well, Felicia had always been perceptive, but even she chose to let it be.

The days passed like this, slow and restless, as they waited for the weekend to come. 

Saturday arrived with a heavy sense of inevitability.

No one spoke much that morning. They all knew what had to be done, and there was no use in second-guessing it now. Each of them dressed in dark clothing, blending into the shadows as much as they could. With Enforcers already on high alert, it wasn’t worth taking any unnecessary risks.

The brothel was quieter than usual when they arrived. Babette had done her part, making sure most of the girls were out of the way. They didn’t need to see what was about to happen. They wouldn’t speak of it, either. The Undercity had its own rules, and silence was one of them.

When they asked if the captain had come, Babette confirmed it with a single nod. Even with three of his men missing, he had still come. Arrogant. Reckless. Or maybe just overconfident in his own power.

Either way, it worked in their favor.

This would change things. They all knew it. Taking out an Enforcer captain wasn’t just another job- it was a statement. It was a line drawn in the sand. After tonight, they wouldn’t just have a reputation; they’d have enemies.

But it was too late to back out now.

The six of them moved inside, silent as ghosts. They knew exactly where to go. The captain had been here for a while now, his time nearly up. They had planned it that way- wait until the end of his appointment, when he would be tired, unsuspecting, easier to handle.

(Y/N) could feel her pulse in her throat, her fingers curling into fists at her sides.

She had done this before. It wasn’t new.

Silco walked beside her, his expression unreadable, but she could feel the way he kept close, the way his fingers twitched slightly at his side, as if resisting the urge to reach for her.

They stopped outside the door.

Vander inhaled deeply before exhaling through his nose, his grip tightening around the handle of his weapon. Felicia stood beside Connol, her jaw set, gaze hard. Benzo gave a slow nod.

This was it.

(Y/N) glanced at Silco one last time, and he met her gaze, his blue eyes steadily.

Then, without another word, they stepped inside.

The girl inside the room barely spared them a glance before rushing past, slipping through the door without hesitation. She knew better than to get in the way.

The captain barely had time to react. He had just started buttoning up his pants when they burst in, his face shifting from surprise to anger. But he didn’t get the chance to fight.

They were on him in seconds.

Vander slammed him against the wall, knocking the breath from his lungs. Benzo and Connol grabbed his arms before he could reach for the pistol on the table, twisting them behind his back. Felicia moved swiftly, snatching the weapon and tucking it into her belt. Silco grabbed a strip of fabric from the bedside, shoving it into the captain’s mouth before he could yell.

(Y/N) just watched.

She could hear his muffled shouts, see the wild panic in his eyes as they forced him out the back door of the brothel.

It wasn’t fear yet.

But it would be.

They stuck to the back alleys, moving through the pipes and the narrow paths that only those who knew the Undercity well could navigate. They avoided the Enforcer patrols, keeping to the shadows, moving like predators through the dark.

No one spoke.

The only sound was the captain’s muffled grunts and the occasional scuff of their boots against the damp ground.

It didn’t take long to reach the warehouse.

The place was still marked by the last time (Y/N) had been here. The faint scent of burnt flesh still clung to the air. The dust on the ground had been hastily swept aside, leaving faint streaks where someone had tried to clean up the aftermath.

(Y/N) stepped forward, inhaling slowly.

She knew what needed to be done.

The silence in the warehouse felt heavier than the last time. The air was thick with something unspoken, something final.

Vander hesitantly spoke up, his voice lingering.

"We don’t have to kill him… This is the last chance you have to not do this, (Y/N)..."

But there was no other way.

(Y/N) had already made her choice.

She gave them all a tired, sad smile, shaking her head. "Go open the bar. It'll help keep suspicion off us."

Felicia hesitated, her eyes filled with worry, but she didn’t argue. Benzo was the first to nod, leading the others out one by one. Vander was the last to leave, giving (Y/N) one final look before disappearing through the warehouse doors.

Now, only she, Silco, and the captain remained.

She turned to Silco. "You don’t have to stay, I mean it… You can go if you want."

Silco scoffed, stepping forward without hesitation. His fingers found her chin, tilting her face up until their eyes met.

"Stop it with that," he murmured, his grip firm but not unkind. "I’m not going anywhere."

(Y/N) swallowed, nodding slowly. His presence was grounding, a steady weight that kept her from slipping into the storm raging inside her.

"...Fine."

She pulled away, exhaling deeply before turning toward the man tied up on the ground.

The captain's eyes flicked wildly between them, rage and fear warring in his gaze. He struggled against his bindings, muffled curses escaping through the gag in his mouth.

(Y/N) crouched down in front of him, studying him carefully.

This was it.

Ten men.

Ten lives taken by her hands.

She flexed her fingers, feeling the hum of magic stir beneath her skin. The familiar warmth of it coiled around her like a second pulse, waiting.

She wasn’t running anymore.

The captain glared up at her, his body trembling slightly despite his bravado. He was trying to stay composed, to act unbothered- but she saw the way his eyes darted between her and Silco, looking for an escape that didn’t exist.

Silco stood just behind her, silent, his presence a steady weight in the room.

(Y/N) reached out, gripping the captain’s jaw, forcing him to look at her. “Do you know who I am?” she asked, her voice low, controlled.

The captain sneered, his breath heavy through the gag.

She ripped it away, tossing it aside.

He coughed, spitting onto the ground. “You’re a coward,” he hissed. “You think killing me will change anything? More will come. More Enforcers, more Mageseekers. You’ll never be free.”

(Y/N) let out a slow, humorless laugh. “I was never free to begin with.”

The air around them seemed to grow warmer as her magic built, the faintest shimmer of energy crackling in the dim light. She could feel Silco watching, waiting, but he didn’t interfere. He had promised to stay- just as she had promised to see this through.

The captain’s eyes flickered with something- fear, perhaps, though he masked it well beneath his contempt.

(Y/N) tightened her grip. “You don’t get to threaten me. Not anymore.”

She didn’t hesitate.

The moment her magic touched him, he screamed. The sound echoed through the warehouse, raw and piercing, but it was only them now. No one to stop this. No one to save him.

The magic burned through him swiftly, turning flesh to embers, bone to dust. His body crumbled beneath her hands, vanishing into nothing. No evidence. No trail.

Just like the others.

Silco exhaled softly behind her, the only sound in the now eerily quiet space.

(Y/N) let her hands drop to her sides, staring at the empty ground where the captain had been. She felt lightheaded, the weight in her chest pressing down harder than before.

Ten.

Ten lives.

Ten ghosts to haunt her.

Silco stepped closer, his voice quieter now. “It’s done.”

(Y/N) swallowed hard, nodding. “Yeah.”

But it didn’t feel like it.

Silco studied her, his sharp gaze unreadable. Then, without a word, he reached into his coat pocket, pulled out a cigarette, and held it out to her.

(Y/N) hesitated only for a second before taking it.

Silco lit it for her, watching as she took a slow drag, the smoke curling around her like a shroud.

Neither of them spoke for a long while.

Then Silco tilted his head toward the door. “Come on. Let’s get out of here.”

(Y/N) exhaled, nodding.

She didn’t look back as they left the warehouse.

Ember in the Dark pt.6

Young!Silco x Fem!Reader

pt.5 - pt.7

pt.1

Warnings: Violence and Physical Confrontation, Interrogation, Threats, Mild Gore/Injury, Substance Use, Emotional distress and trauma.

Word Count: 7568

Summary: After learning that Mageseekers are after her, (Y/N) retreats in distress, and Silco follows to offer quiet support. She breaks down, revealing some of her past, while Silco, uncharacteristically vulnerable, admits his care for her. This leads to a tentative but meaningful moment before they rejoin the others, subtly changed. The group discovers that Mageseekers in the Undercity are trying to alert Piltover and decide to intercept them. After capturing and interrogating them, they learn that only four Enforcers know about (Y/N). Instead of killing the Mageseekers outright, Vander chooses to eliminate the Enforcers first. Later, (Y/N) seeks comfort in Silco, and by morning, their deepening connection leads to a slow, powerful moment, solidifying their unspoken bond.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Felicia set a steaming bowl of stew in front of (Y/N) with a quiet thunk, then sat next to her, arms crossed. She didn’t say anything- she didn’t have to. The look on her face said enough: Eat. Or else.

(Y/N) sighed but picked up the spoon, taking a small bite. The warmth settled in her stomach, grounding her more than she cared to admit. Around her, the usual hum of conversation had dulled to a tense silence. They were all waiting for Benzo to return, to see if he had heard anything while at his shop today.

The wait stretched long, the weight of uncertainty pressing down on them. Then, finally, the door swung open, and Benzo stepped inside. He looked a bit nervous as he made his way over to the bar, sighing as he sat down.

“...Apparently someone got some coin for tipping some Enforcers off about (Y/N).” His voice was measured, but there was an edge to it. “The Council doesn’t know yet, but the captain of the Enforcers sent word to Mageseekers in the area. Nothing big, nothing we can’t handle… Technically, the Undercity isn’t part of Piltover, so the Enforcers can’t do much about her. That’s why they told the Mageseekers. They can come down here, arrest us, beat us up, but other than that, it’s not like they can exile her if she’s already not in Piltover.”

Silence followed, heavy and suffocating. It could have been worse, but still- it was enough. If the Mageseekers knew, that meant word could spread. If it reached Demacia… Noxus would follow.

(Y/N)’s hands curled into fists beneath the table, nails biting into her palms. The walls of the room suddenly felt too tight, the air too thick. She needed space. Pushing back her chair a little too quickly, the legs scraped against the wooden floor as she stood.

“I need a minute,” she muttered, barely waiting for a response before turning on her heel and heading for the stairs.

Felicia called after her, but (Y/N) didn’t stop. Her limbs felt too tight, her breath too shallow. The room had felt suffocating, and she wasn’t sure if it was from the conversation or the memories clawing their way to the surface. Each step up to her room felt heavier than the last, her thoughts a spiraling mess. By the time she reached her door, she shut it behind her, bracing her hands against the wooden frame as she inhaled deeply.

It’s fine. You’re fine.

A quiet knock on her door made her shoulders tense. She knew who it was before he even spoke.

“(Y/N).” Silco’s voice was calm, steady. “Let me in.”

For a long moment, she didn’t move. Didn’t respond. Then, slowly, she turned toward the door, letting Silco inside... But she said nothing.

(Y/N) walked away from him and sat on the edge of her bed, staring down at her hands as Silco shut the door behind him. The room felt smaller with him inside, the weight of his presence pressing against the silence that had settled between them. He didn’t say anything. He didn’t need to. His sharp, blue eyes studied her, waiting, watching- like he always did when he knew something was wrong.

And (Y/N)... she couldn’t take it. She exhaled, a sharp, trembling breath, before running a hand through her hair. “Dammit, Sil...” Her voice cracked, betraying her, raw with something she had tried to swallow down. “Why does it have to be like this? Why does it always have to feel like I’m running from something? I didn’t ask for magic, I didn’t ask to be from Ionia. Wish I could just get rid of it...”

(Y/N)’s fingers curled into the fabric of her pants, gripping tightly as she struggled with the storm inside her. She never talked about her past. Not really. Not beyond what little she had been willing to share when they were kids. But Silco had always been the exception. He had always been the one to notice the cracks in her walls, the one who never pushed but always waited- and gods, how she hated him for it sometimes.

Because it worked.

“It’s because of Noxus that I ended up here in the first place,” she admitted, voice quiet, but full of something bitter. She felt, more than saw the way Silco straightened beside her. She could feel the shift in the air, the way his focus sharpened entirely on her.

“They burned my home,” she continued, eyes fixed on the floor, unable to meet his gaze. “They killed my people. They forced my mother to run with nothing but the clothes on her back and me in her arms.” Her breath hitched, and she gritted her teeth. “And now Mageseekers... That means it can all come crashing down on me.”

She let out a short, humorless laugh, shaking her head. “No matter how much I hid, no matter how much I tried to be normal- it’s like I’ll always be something other... Like I’m a curse.”

Her voice wavered. Her hands trembled. She had spent her whole life running, hiding, burying the truth of what she was. And it hadn’t been enough.

Silco watched her for a long moment, his gaze steady, unwavering. Then, without a word, he reached out, covering her shaking hand with his.

(Y/N) sucked in a sharp breath. Silco had never been one for comfort, not in the way Vander or Felicia was... But his grip was firm, grounding. A silent promise.

“They won’t take you,” he said, his voice low, certain.

(Y/N) swallowed hard, her chest tightening. She wanted to believe him- She really did…

(Y/N) clenched her jaw, her chest tightening as the first tear slipped down her cheek. She hated this- hated how weak it made her feel, how exposed. She never cried in front of others. She never let herself.

But she couldn’t stop it.

The tears came anyway, silent and unstoppable, streaming down her face as her body trembled. Her breaths were shallow, uneven, the weight of everything pressing down on her all at once.

Silco didn’t say anything. He didn’t pull away. He just sat there, his hand still over hers, his grip tightening ever so slightly.

It was that- his quiet, unwavering presence- that finally broke her.

A sob wracked through her, sharp and raw, and she turned toward him, pressing her face into his shoulder as her body shook.

Silco stiffened at first, caught off guard. Affection- this kind of closeness- was something neither of them indulged in easily.

But he didn’t pull away.

Slowly, cautiously, he lifted his hand, resting it against her back. His fingers curled slightly, uncertain, but present.

"I-" she choked out, gripping onto his shirt. "I don’t want to run anymore."

Silco’s expression darkened, his jaw clenching at her words.

"You won’t," he murmured. His voice was low, steady- a quiet promise against the storm raging inside her.

They sat there like that for a long time- (Y/N) curled against him, her tears soaking into his shirt, Silco holding her gently, because in this moment, there were no masks, no defenses- just them.

She stayed there, pressed against him, her mind still racing even as her sobs quieted. She felt exhausted, raw, but… safe. Safe in a way she hadn’t let herself feel in a long time.

Her fingers curled against the fabric of his shirt, her heart hammering against her ribs. She could hear his heartbeat too- steady, controlled, though there was something tense about the way he held her, something careful.

This was Silco. The same Silco she had known since they were kids. The one who had found her when she ran, who protected her secrets, who always looked at the world like he wanted to tear it apart and build something better in its place.

This moment… it was quiet, softer than any they’d had before.

(Y/N) took a shaky breath, forcing herself to pull back just enough to meet his eyes. His face was unreadable, the usual sharpness softened just slightly, but still guarded.

She hesitated.

Her fingers clenched in his shirt before she finally forced herself to speak.

“…Silco.”

Her voice was barely above a whisper.

He didn’t look away.

"I-" She exhaled sharply, frustrated with herself, but she pushed through.

"Why do you treat me differently? Why… aren’t you standoffish with me, like how you are with most others?"

The words hung between them, heavy.

Silco’s expression didn’t change- not immediately. His grip on her hand tightened just slightly, his sharp eyes searching hers, looking for something, though she wasn’t sure what.

Then, after what felt like an eternity, he finally spoke.

"(Y/N)…"

His voice was quiet, almost careful in a way he rarely was.

(Y/N) could hear the pounding of her own heart in her ears, could feel her pulse in her fingertips where they still clung to his shirt. Every second that passed without a response made her stomach twist tighter, her breath stuck in her throat.

Then, finally, Silco exhaled, his fingers twitching where they rested against her hand.

"(Y/N)…" He said her name again, softer this time, but still guarded.

His face was unreadable- his usual sharp, calculating expression still there, but underneath it, something else flickered.

Something uncertain.

She searched his face, trying to figure out what he was thinking, trying to prepare herself for whatever he was going to say.

But when he finally spoke, his voice was quieter than she had ever heard it.

"I don’t… know how to do this."

(Y/N) blinked.

Out of everything she had expected- anger, maybe even laughter… she hadn’t expected that.

Silco sighed through his nose, closing his eyes briefly before looking back at her.

"I never… let myself think about this."

His grip on her hand tightened slightly, but not in a way that hurt. Just like he was grounding himself.

"We’ve always had bigger things to worry about. Staying alive. Keeping ahead of everyone who wants us dead. And you…"

His jaw tensed, as if he was holding something back.

"You’re one of the only people I can trust."

(Y/N) swallowed, her throat dry.

"That’s not what I-"

"I care…" He cut her off, shaking his head slightly. "I care about you- more than I should."

Her breath hitched.

Silco’s sharp blue eyes locked onto hers, something intense in them.

"I don’t know how to feel something like this, (Y/N)."

He let out a quiet, humorless chuckle, shaking his head.

"But I care… I’d do anything for you."

The words sent a shiver down her spine.

For a moment, she could only stare at him, her mind catching up to what he had just said.

She let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding, her fingers slowly loosening from his shirt, but not letting go entirely.

"I don’t know how to do this either," she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. "But I want to figure it out."

Silco didn’t speak, but his hand squeezed hers again, his thumb brushing lightly against her knuckles.

She barely had time to react before she felt the warmth of his hand against her cheek.

Her breath caught in her throat.

Silco looked just as startled as she felt, like his body had moved before his mind could catch up. His fingers twitched slightly, as if debating whether to pull away, but instead, he stayed there. She leaned into his touch before she could stop herself, her eyes fluttering shut for just a moment.

When she opened them again, Silco was watching her with something unreadable in his expression- hesitation, curiosity, something softer than she had ever seen before.

"We’re fools," he muttered, shaking his head slightly.

(Y/N) let out a quiet, breathy laugh. "We’ve always been fools."

Silco huffed through his nose, the corner of his mouth twitching just slightly. His thumb brushed against her cheekbone, feather-light.

She wasn’t sure what to do. If she should say something, if she should move, if she should just stay here and let herself drown in the moment.

But then Silco, always the one to plan ahead, always the one to think things through, did something completely reckless.

He leaned in… Just barely. Not quite a kiss, not yet, giving her the chance to pull away.

…She didn’t…

Instead, she closed the distance.

Silco was careful, his hand still resting against her cheek as the kiss deepened. It was hesitant, unpracticed, but it didn’t matter. They weren’t thinking about that- weren’t thinking about anything at all, really.

(Y/N) could feel her heart pounding in her chest, the warmth of his lips against hers making her feel lightheaded. Or maybe that was just the leftover exhaustion and pain. She wasn’t sure.

Silco’s other hand hovered near her side before he caught himself, remembering her injury. Instead, he settled for gently cupping the side of her neck, his touch warm, grounding.

They were slow, careful. Learning.

By the time they finally broke apart, they were both breathing a little heavier, their foreheads almost touching.

Silco swallowed, his thumb still brushing against her skin.

"…Utter fools," he muttered, quieter this time.

(Y/N) let out a breathy laugh, her lips still tingling. "Yeah."

Neither of them moved right away. They just sat there, the weight of the moment settling between them.

For a long moment, neither of them spoke. Then, slowly, Silco reached for her hand, his touch firm but careful. Not leading her- grounding her.

"Come on," he murmured. "They’re waiting."

As they made their way downstairs, there was an unspoken shift between them. Nothing had really changed, and yet… everything had.

(Y/N) stuck close to Silco’s side, though not in a way that would be obvious to anyone else. Just a half-step closer than usual, just a glance in his direction when she thought no one was looking.

And Silco- well, he wasn’t one for public displays of anything, but there was something softer in the way he moved, something more deliberate.

Vander was behind the bar, wiping down glasses while Benzo leaned against the counter, deep in conversation. Felicia was there too, sitting at one of the tables, but when she looked up and saw (Y/N) and Silco, her eyes narrowed slightly.

"You good?" Felicia asked, her voice casual, but the look in her eyes wasn’t.

(Y/N) nodded, clearing her throat. "Yeah. Just needed a breather."

Felicia didn’t look entirely convinced, but she let it go, turning her attention back to the conversation Benzo and Vander were having.

(Y/N) exhaled, slipping into her usual spot at the table. Silco remained standing for a moment before taking a seat beside her- Close. Just enough that their legs brushed under the table.

But as Vander set a drink down in front of her, his brows furrowed slightly.

"You okay, kid? You look…" He hesitated, searching for the right word.

(Y/N) smirked faintly, grabbing the glass. "Tired?"

Vander huffed a laugh, shaking his head. "Something like that."

She quickly downed her drink, ignoring the way Felicia kept sneaking glances at her from across the room. She reached for the bottle before Vander could say anything, pouring herself another drink with slightly unsteady hands. She needed the burn of the liquor, needed something to ground her.

Her mind was too full- of Enforcers, of the Mageseekers, of Silco, who still sat beside her, silent but present.

She could feel his eyes on her as she took a sip, the alcohol stinging down her throat.

Vander let out a sigh, crossing his arms. "You sure that’s a good idea, kid?"

(Y/N) didn’t answer at first, just swirling the whiskey in her glass.

"I’ve had worse ideas."

Felicia scoffed from across the room. "That’s not reassuring."

(Y/N) ignored her. She wasn’t in the mood for a lecture, not tonight. She felt raw, her nerves stretched thin, and drinking was the only thing that felt like it might help.

Silco didn’t stop her- he didn’t say a word, just leaned back slightly in his chair, sipping his own drink. But there was something in the way he watched her, something unreadable in his gaze.

After a moment, Vander exhaled heavily, shaking his head. "Just don’t overdo it," he muttered before turning his attention elsewhere.

(Y/N) didn’t respond, just took another sip of her drink, welcoming the warmth that spread through her chest. But no amount of alcohol could drown out the reality settling in the back of her mind.

The Mageseekers were after her.

The thought sat heavy in her gut, twisting like a knife. They had been too close today. Too damn close. One wrong move, one misstep, and she would have been dragged off to the cells of Piltover- if they didn’t kill her outright.

And now?

Now they wouldn’t stop looking.

Her grip tightened around the glass.

Felicia’s voice cut through her thoughts. "So, what’s the plan?"

(Y/N) blinked, glancing up. "What?"

Felicia sighed, leaning forward. "The Mageseekers. What are we gonna do about them?"

Silco spoke before (Y/N) could. "We lay low. Stick to the shadows. Make sure they don’t catch wind of her again." His voice was steady, certain, but his fingers tapped against his glass- a rare show of nerves.

Felicia frowned. "And how long do you think that’ll work?"

Silco’s eyes flicked toward (Y/N), sharp and considering. "Long enough."

Felicia scoffed. "That’s not a real plan, Silco. We can’t just hide forever."

(Y/N) clenched her jaw, staring into the amber liquid in her glass.

No. They couldn’t.

Because the Mageseekers weren’t the kind of enemy that just… gave up.

They would keep hunting. Keep searching.

And eventually, they would find her.

Unless she found a way to stop them first.

The silence stretched between them, heavy and suffocating.

(Y/N) could feel the tension rolling off Vander and Felicia, the weight of unspoken fears pressing down on all of them.

Then, Silco finally spoke.

"What if we got rid of the Mageseekers before they can send word to anyone higher up?"

His voice was even, calculated- but there was an edge to it, something sharp hidden beneath the surface.

Vander was already shaking his head before Silco even finished. "That’s not the way, Silco."

Felicia crossed her arms. "Killing Enforcers is one thing. The Mageseekers? They’d bring down hell on the Undercity if they thought someone was targeting them."

Silco didn’t react, just leaned forward slightly, his fingers tapping against his glass in slow, measured movements. "They’ll bring down hell anyway, Felicia. The difference is whether or not (Y/N) is alive when they do."

(Y/N) swallowed hard, but she didn’t look away.

Because he was right.

And as much as she knew Vander and Felicia hated the idea, they both knew it too.

She exhaled sharply, forcing herself to sit up straighter. "What other choice do we have?"

Vander’s jaw tensed, his fingers gripping the edge of the counter.

Felicia looked away, scowling.

But neither of them had an answer.

Because there wasn’t one.

After a long, tense pause, Vander let out a slow breath. "We’d need to be careful. Real careful."

Felicia’s mouth pressed into a thin line, but she gave a small nod. "And we’d have to be sure. If word’s already gotten out, then it won’t matter what we do."

Silco’s expression didn’t change, but something in his posture shifted. He had already been thinking the same thing. "Then the first step is finding them. Figuring out how many of them know- and if they’ve already told anyone."

(Y/N) tightened her grip around her glass, nodding.

It was dangerous. Stupid, even.

But it was the only way.

Vander exhaled, running a hand down his face before nodding. “Alright. We don’t have time to waste. We split up, we get information, and we regroup. No one does anything reckless.”

His eyes flickered toward Silco, as if the words were meant for him in particular. Silco didn’t respond- just raised an eyebrow slightly, taking another slow sip of his drink.

Felicia pushed off from the table, already moving. “I’ll get Connol. He knows a few people who move between here and Piltover. If anything’s trickled down, we’ll hear about it.”

Silco finally set his glass down. “Benzo and I will check the deep end of the city. The Mageseekers aren’t above using hired help, and if they were seen, someone down there will know.”

Vander grunted, his fingers tapping against the counter. “(Y/N) and I will stay in the Lanes, listen for any rumors. If someone’s seen them sniffing around, we’ll know soon enough.”

(Y/N) swallowed hard, nodding. Her heart was still pounding, but at least now she had something to focus on. Something that wasn’t the weight of everything pressing down on her chest.

Felicia glanced between them all. “We meet back here in a few hours?”

Vander nodded. “Before dawn. No one goes off alone.”

Silco hummed, already pushing away from the counter. “Then let’s not waste time.”

With that, they each moved, stepping into the cold air of the Undercity, splitting off into the smog filled streets.

Vander and (Y/N) moved through the winding streets of the Lanes, keeping their heads low but their ears open. The brothel was their first stop- Babette knew everything that happened in the Undercity before most people did.

She leaned against the doorframe, watching them with sharp, knowing eyes. “Mageseekers, huh?” she mused, blowing out a slow stream of smoke. “Word is, a few of ‘em came sniffing around the markets earlier. Didn’t stay long, though.”

(Y/N) tensed beside Vander. “Did they ask about anything specific?”

Babette hummed, tapping ash onto the floor. “Not that I heard, but if they were here, they’re looking for something. Or someone.” Her gaze lingered on (Y/N), but she didn’t say anything more.

Vander nodded. “Appreciate it.”

Next, they wove through the market, asking the vendors they trusted most. Some had seen the Mageseekers, but no one knew exactly what they were after.

It wasn’t until they stopped by a small chem den that they got something more useful. A jittery dealer, hands stained with chemicals, muttered that he’d seen them talking to a courier near the border to Piltover. The Mageseekers weren’t just looking around- they were trying to get a message topside.

Vander’s jaw clenched. That wasn’t good. If word got out, they’d have more than just a few enforcers poking around.

“We need to get back,” (Y/N) said, voice tight.

He nodded. “Yeah.”

With that, they headed straight for the bar, the weight of their discovery heavy between them. If the others hadn’t found anything better, they’d have to act fast.

The bar was quiet when Vander and (Y/N) got there, but it didn’t last long.

Felicia and Connol arrived next, both looking tense. Then Silco and Benzo slipped in from the back entrance, shaking off the cold damp from the depths of the Undercity. Everyone looked tired, but there was no time to rest.

They sat around one of the tables, exchanging information quickly.

Felicia and Connol had tracked signs of the Mageseekers moving near the border, just as (Y/N) and Vander had heard. Silco and Benzo, meanwhile, had caught whispers in the fissures- something about outsiders asking the wrong people too many questions.

“They’re trying to send word topside,” Vander said grimly. “We stop that message from getting out, or this gets a hell of a lot worse.”

A silence hung over the table. The Mageseekers were dangerous, but letting them escape would be worse.

“We take them before they get to the bridge,” Silco said, voice sharp, determined. “Grab them, drag them somewhere quiet, make sure we know exactly what they know.” His fingers drummed against the tabletop. “Then we kill them.”

Vander’s expression darkened. “We don’t know that it has to go that far.”

“They came after (Y/N).” Silco’s voice was low but heated. “They would’ve dragged her off and locked her away, or worse. And you’d let them go?”

“I didn’t say that.” Vander let out a slow breath, trying to keep his voice even. “We get the information first. After that… we’ll see.”

Silco’s gaze was sharp, but he didn’t argue. Not yet.

Felicia leaned back, crossing her arms. “So, we intercept them at the bridge. Then what?”

Vander looked around at them all. “Then we take them to one of the old warehouses, out near the factory row. No one’ll hear anything out there.”

Everyone nodded, the plan settling between them. It wasn’t perfect, but it was all they had.

They had a long night ahead.

The night air was thick with the scent of damp stone and oil as they moved into position. The bridge loomed ahead, shrouded in the dim glow of golden lanterns from the upper city. Shadows stretched long against the uneven cobblestone, the sound of distant voices and the occasional scuffle of rats the only noise accompanying them.

They kept to the edges, hiding in the narrow alleys and behind the rusting remains of old pipes. It wasn’t long before they saw them- a small group of five figures making their way toward the bridge. Their robes were discreet, but not enough to fool anyone who knew what to look for. The way they moved, cautious and deliberate, screamed of authority that didn’t belong down here.

Silco’s grip tightened around the knife in his hand. His gaze flicked toward Vander, a silent confirmation passing between them.

Now.

They moved as one.

Felicia and Connol struck first, stepping out from the darkness to cut off their path. Before the Mageseekers could react, Vander and Silco closed in from behind, with (Y/N) and Benzo cutting off any chance of escape.

One of the Mageseekers cursed under his breath, already reaching for a weapon, but Felicia was faster. She slammed her elbow into his gut, knocking the wind out of him before twisting his arm behind his back. Connol drew a blade and leveled it at the others.

“Not a word,” Silco said, his voice low, dangerous.

The Mageseekers hesitated, eyes darting between them, weighing their odds. One of them- the tallest, likely the leader- lifted his chin slightly. “You don’t know who you’re messing with.”

Vander stepped forward, looming. “No, we do. And you’re not going anywhere.”

The leader sneered. “If we report back, more will come.”

Silco tilted his head. “Then it’s a good thing we don’t plan on letting you report back.”

The Mageseekers stiffened, but before any of them could react, Vander gave the signal.

With swift efficiency, they dragged them into the nearest alleyway, keeping them subdued. There was no time to waste. They needed to get them to the warehouse before anyone noticed they were missing.

Inside the warehouse, the air was thick with the stench of dust and rusting metal. The Mageseekers were bound tightly to old pipes, their hands tied behind their backs, their ankles secured. The dim light of a single oil lamp cast long, flickering shadows along the cracked walls, making the entire scene feel even more oppressive.

Vander stood with his arms crossed, his face grim, while Silco leaned against a crate, watching their captives with an unnerving stillness. (Y/N), standing just behind Vander, had her arms wrapped around herself, trying to steady the storm raging in her chest. Felicia and Connol lingered by the door, keeping an eye on the streets outside, while Benzo paced slowly behind the bound prisoners.

The questioning had been straightforward, and the answers had come easier than expected. The five Mageseekers in the room were the only ones who had come to the Undercity. They hadn't managed to send word to their superiors in Demacia yet, nor had they warned the rest of their order. That was something, at least.

Then came the question of the Enforcers.

The Mageseekers hesitated, but after some… encouragement, they admitted the truth. Only four Enforcers knew. The captain and three others. (Y/N) felt her stomach twist at the revelation.

The same three who had caught her all those years ago.

Her breath hitched. She could still remember their faces, their voices. The way they chased her through the streets, the way they forced her to use her magic to run away, the way they looked at her like she was nothing.

She clenched her fists at her sides, her nails digging into her palms.

“We know everything we need,” Silco said after a long silence, his voice quiet but sharp. His gaze flicked to Vander. “Now we decide what to do with them.”

Vander exhaled through his nose, rubbing a hand over his face. “We let them go, they come back with more. Killin’ ‘em, though…” He hesitated. “That’s a line I don’t want to cross unless we have to.”

Silco pushed off the crate, stepping closer to the bound prisoners. “You think they wouldn’t do the same to us? To (Y/N)?” His voice was razor-edged. “They hunt people like her down and toss them in chains. Or worse.” He turned to the others, his eyes dark. “If we let them live, we risk everything.”

Felicia frowned, shifting uncomfortably. “I don’t like the idea of just killing them,” she admitted. “But Silco’s not wrong. If we let them go, they will come back.”

(Y/N) swallowed hard, glancing at Vander. “What choice do we have?” she asked, her voice quiet. “If we let them walk away, we’re as good as dead.”

Vander sighed, his shoulders tense. His hands curled into fists at his sides as he stared at the Mageseekers. They looked back at him, defiant even now, even tied up and helpless.

Finally, he spoke. “…We deal with the Enforcers first.” His voice was heavy. “If we handle them, there’s no one left in Piltover who knows about (Y/N).” He glanced at the prisoners. “Until then, we keep these five locked up. We’ll decide their fate after the Enforcers are taken care of.”

Silco didn’t look satisfied, but he didn’t argue. Not yet.

They had their next move.

Back at the bar, the tension hung heavy between them. The doors were locked, the drinks forgotten, and the usual warmth of the place had been replaced with something colder, sharper. They sat around a table in the back, heads low, voices hushed.

Silco leaned forward, fingers steepled in front of him. “We’ll have to take them out one by one. If we hit them all at once, we risk too much attention.” His eyes flickered toward (Y/N) for the briefest moment before he continued. “The trick will be luring them away without raising suspicion.”

Vander exhaled through his nose, arms crossed over his chest. “It’s not just about takin’ them out, it’s about makin’ sure no one knows why they disappeared. If the Enforcers get wind of what we’re doing, we’re screwed.”

Felicia leaned back in her chair, drumming her fingers against the table. “We could start with the easiest target- the one who strays from the others the most.” She looked at (Y/N). “Do you remember anything about them? Their routines?”

(Y/N) swallowed, trying to push past the nausea curling in her stomach. “The captain… he was always the last to leave the barracks. But the other three…” She shook her head. “I don’t remember much else. Just their faces.”

Benzo, who had been quiet until now, spoke up. “If they’re anything like the Enforcers I used to deal with, they’ll have their vices. Gambling, drinking, a side hustle or two. We just need to figure out what those are.”

Silco nodded. “Then that’s our next step. We dig. We find out where they go when they’re not playing soldier, and we pick them off one at a time.”

Vander let out a heavy sigh, rubbing a hand over his face. “And after that...” His eyes met Silco’s. “We’re gonna have to lay low for a long time. With four of their own missin’, the Enforcers are gonna turn this city upside down lookin’ for answers.”

Silco’s lips curled into something that wasn’t quite a smile. “Then we make sure they don’t find any.”

The plan was reckless. Dangerous. But it was the only choice they had.

The silence in the bar stretched long after the others had left, leaving only the fading scent of smoke and liquor in their wake. The warmth of their presence had disappeared, replaced by an uneasy quiet that settled deep in (Y/N)’s chest. She sat at the table, fingers tracing the rim of her glass, the weight of the night pressing against her like a storm on the horizon.

Across from her, Silco hadn’t moved. He sat half-shrouded in the dim glow of the lantern, watching her with that sharp, knowing gaze. He didn’t push, didn’t speak, just waited. And maybe that was why she found herself breaking the silence, her voice quiet, almost hesitant.

“…Stay with me tonight?”

Silco’s brows lifted slightly, but he didn’t mock her for the request. He simply studied her, as if searching for the meaning beneath her words, then gave a small nod. “Alright.”

Relief washed through her, though she wasn’t sure why. They didn’t say much as they made their way upstairs, slipping into the small, dimly lit room. (Y/N) sat on the edge of the bed, unfastening her boots with slow, exhausted movements. Sleep wouldn’t come easy tonight- not with her thoughts running in endless circles, looping back to the same questions, the same fears.

Silco leaned against the wall, arms crossed, watching her. Then, after a moment, he sighed and sat beside her on the bed. “You think too much,” he muttered.

(Y/N) let out a tired laugh. “Kind of hard not to.”

A beat of silence passed between them. Then, without really thinking, she leaned into him, resting her head against his shoulder. For a second, she thought he might pull away- but he didn’t. He stayed still, quiet, letting her take whatever comfort she needed.

“…You scared?” he asked after a while.

(Y/N) closed her eyes, listening to the steady rhythm of his breathing. “No,” she murmured. “Just… tired.”

Silco hummed softly, a sound of amusement or understanding- maybe both. “Then rest.”

She didn’t remember falling asleep. But when she woke, the dim morning light filtered through the cracks in the curtains, casting a soft glow over the room. She shifted slightly, only to realize she wasn’t alone. Warmth pressed against her, an arm draped over her waist, her hand resting lightly against a familiar chest.

Silco.

Her breath caught as her sleep-fogged mind registered the closeness, the way their legs were loosely tangled, his face just inches from hers. His breathing was slow and even, still deep in sleep. She had never seen him like this before- unguarded, his sharp features softened by unconsciousness. No calculated expression, no sharp words waiting behind his lips. Just… him.

A strange feeling curled in her chest, something warm and terrifying all at once. She should move before he woke, before he turned that piercing gaze on her. But… she didn’t. Instead, she closed her eyes again, listening to the quiet, letting herself stay just a little longer.

Eventually, she felt him shift. His body tensed slightly, adjusting to the unfamiliar warmth beside him. A slow inhale, a flicker of movement.

(Y/N) braced herself, waiting for him to pull away, to make some cutting remark. But when his blue eyes finally opened, still clouded with sleep, he just looked at her. No teasing. No sharp words. Just quiet understanding.

“…Morning,” he murmured, voice rough with sleep.

She swallowed. “Morning.”

Neither of them moved. Neither of them let go.

The air between them was fragile, humming with something neither of them had spoken aloud. Silco’s fingers moved first, threading through (Y/N)’s hair with a touch so careful, so deliberate, it felt as if he was memorizing the feel of her. It was unlike him- unlike the sharp edges, the carefully controlled restraint he carried.

She barely breathed, afraid that any sudden movement would break whatever fragile thing had settled between them.

Then he moved closer.

His fingers traced down to her jaw, featherlight, testing. Seeing if she would pull away.

But she didn’t.

She leaned into his touch, her own hand coming to rest against his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heart beneath her palm. Neither of them spoke.

Silco’s gaze flickered to her lips, hesitation creeping in- but when (Y/N) shifted, closing the last bit of distance between them, the moment cracked open like a flood.

His lips met hers, slow at first, careful- until it wasn’t.

(Y/N) pressed into him, fingers twisting into the fabric of his shirt as he pulled her closer, their bodies molding together as if they had done this a hundred times before. But they hadn’t. And maybe that was what made it all the more intoxicating.

Silco wasn’t rough, wasn’t hurried. He kissed her like he was trying to take his time, like he wanted to make sure this wasn’t just some fleeting moment. And (Y/N) melted into it, into him, into the way his hands traced slow, reverent paths over her skin.

His lips didn’t leave hers for long. He kissed her again, slower this time, as though savoring every second, every soft sigh that left her lips. His fingers trailed along her jaw, tracing the curve of her cheek before tilting her chin just enough to deepen the kiss. Careful. Hesitant, even. But beneath his restraint was something simmering- something intense, something that burned.

When he finally broke away, his lips barely brushed against her skin as he moved lower, trailing soft, lingering kisses down her jaw. Each press of his mouth sent shivers down her spine, her breath catching when he reached the sensitive spot beneath her ear. He lingered there, his lips parting slightly against her pulse, feeling the way it fluttered beneath his touch.

His hands followed, fingertips ghosting down her arms, over the fabric of her clothes. Not rough, not demanding- just exploring. Mapping her. Tracing her like something he never thought he’d be allowed to touch.

His fingers trailed lower, brushing over her waist, then back up, caressing her through the thin fabric with a tenderness that made her heart ache.

(Y/N)’s breath hitched when he pressed a kiss just beneath her ear again, his breath warm, sending a slow, aching warmth curling low in her stomach. She felt his hesitation in the way his hands lingered at her hips, waiting for something- for her.

So she gave it.

Her fingers slid into his hair, tugging him closer, giving him the silent permission he needed.

Silco let out a slow breath against her neck before pressing another kiss there- softer this time, deliberate. Careful, but claiming. A contrast that sent heat spreading through her limbs.

His lips moved lower, down the column of her throat, each kiss leaving a lingering heat in its wake. His hands, once hesitant, grew bolder, smoothing over her back, pulling her closer, but never pushing too far.

He was letting her set the pace. Letting her guide him.

…But Silco’s restraint was slipping. He could feel it in the slight tremble of his fingers against her waist, in the way his breathing deepened as (Y/N)’s hands tangled in his hair.

He wasn’t used to this- wasn’t used to wanting something so badly and having it right in front of him, willingly pressing against him, pulling him closer.

(Y/N)’s breath hitched as his lips traveled lower, pressing against the hollow of her throat before dragging back up to claim her lips again.

This kiss was different.

Less hesitant. More desperate.

It wasn’t just a kiss; it was a confession, a surrender.

Her hands roamed over his back, feeling the tension in his muscles, the way he held himself together even as he unraveled beneath her touch. She whispered his name, soft and breathless, and something inside him broke.

“(Y/N)…” His voice was low, almost shaky.

He pulled back just enough to look at her, his blue eyes burning into hers.

“You don’t know what you do to me.”

But she did. She could feel it in every touch, every kiss, every careful caress.

“I love you,” she murmured, barely above a whisper, but the words sent a shiver through him.

His grip on her tightened, his forehead pressing against hers as he exhaled- long and slow, like he’d been holding his breath for years.

“You don’t have to say that,” he rasped, as if the words were dangerous, as if they might unravel him completely.

“But I do,” she insisted, her fingers tracing over his jaw, grounding him. “I’ve loved you for years…”

A quiet sound left him, something caught between disbelief and longing.

Then he kissed her again, deeper this time, pouring everything he couldn’t say into it. His hands roamed with more certainty now, sliding beneath the fabric of her shirt, feeling the warmth of her skin beneath his palms.

“(Y/N)…” Her name was a whisper against her lips, a prayer.

“If I could love anyone…” He kissed her again, breathing her in, the taste of her, the feel of her. “It would be you.”

The words undid her.

She pulled him closer, hands desperate, bodies pressed flush together as the moment deepened, as the world outside this bed, this room, this morning ceased to matter.

No more hesitation.

No more secrets.

Just whispered names and the feeling of finally being where they belonged.

Silco lingered in bed as (Y/N) slowly moved to sit up, stretching her arms over her head, the morning light filtering through the window casting a soft glow over her skin. He found himself watching her, memorizing the way the light danced over her form before she turned to him with a small, sleepy smile.

“I need a bath,” she murmured, running a hand through her tousled hair. “I’ll meet you downstairs in a bit.”

Silco hummed in response, propping himself up on one elbow as he reached out, trailing his fingers down her arm.

“Don’t take too long,” he muttered, his voice still rough from sleep. “I don’t like waiting.”

She rolled her eyes but smiled, standing to gather fresh clothes before making her way toward the washroom.

Silco watched her go, exhaling slowly as he ran a hand down his face.

Gods.

What had he just done?

This morning…

Everything about it had changed something between them.

They had known how they felt about each other somewhat, but neither had truly acted on it, not like this. It had always been a quiet understanding, a tension that hovered between them, acknowledged but never fully embraced. But now, there was no denying it. No pretending it hadn’t happened.

For the first time in a long while, Silco didn’t feel like he had to be so guarded.

And that terrified him.

But right now, he didn’t have the time to dwell on it.

With a grunt, he pushed himself out of bed, reaching for his shirt. There was work to be done, plans to set in motion. Whatever came next, they would face it together.

Downstairs, the others were waiting, but for now, (Y/N) had a moment to herself- one final bit of peace before the storm that was sure to come.

She stood before the mirror, fingers ghosting over the fresh stitches on her abdomen. The wound was still raw, an aching reminder of how close she had come to death. She traced her fingers just beneath it, absentmindedly, her mind flickering back to everything she had learned in the last few days- the Enforcers, Piltover, the Mageseekers hunting her.

It was overwhelming.

But there was no time to process it fully. Not yet.

She exhaled slowly and let her hands drop to her sides, her gaze drifting over the rest of her body- faint scars from years of fighting, surviving in the Undercity. Each mark told a story, a piece of her past carved into her skin.

Shaking herself from her thoughts, she turned away from the mirror and stepped into the bath, sighing as the warm water enveloped her. She sank down, closing her eyes for a moment, letting herself simply exist in the quiet.

It was rare to have a moment like this- peaceful, still.

She ran her hands through her hair, washing away the remnants of the night before, of the past few days. She moved through the familiar motions of getting ready, her mind still lingering on the weight of everything that had happened.

Brushing through her damp hair, she worked out the knots before twisting it up into a bun, a few loose strands framing her face. Dressing in her usual layers, she adjusted her sleeves, ensuring they covered the faint golden shimmer that sometimes flickered along her skin when her magic stirred.

Once satisfied, she quickly brushed her teeth, rinsing away the last remnants of the night before.

Taking a deep breath, she stepped out of her room, making her way down the creaky wooden steps into the bar.

The familiar scent of smoke, alcohol, and the faintest trace of damp stone greeted her.

Ember in the Dark pt.5

Young!Silco x Fem!Reader

pt.4 - pt.6

pt.1

Warnings: Violence, Combat, Injury, Mild gore, Abduction, Restraint, Death, Hallucinations/Visions, Blood, and Panic/Fear.

Word Count: 6174

Summary: (Y/N) is ambushed by three hooded figures trying to abduct her. She fights back but is restrained until her scream alerts Vander, Silco, and Felicia. A brutal fight ensues, leaving her stabbed before her attackers are defeated or driven off. Silco rushes her home, where Felicia stitches her wound while Vander and Silco struggle to contain her unstable magic. Before losing consciousness, she sees a vision of her mother. Realizing the attack was a targeted abduction, Vander and Silco investigate and learn that the Mageseekers, possibly backed by someone powerful, won’t stop hunting her. Meanwhile, Felicia watches over (Y/N). When she wakes, Silco warns her not to go out alone. Though frustrated, she accepts his help, and in an uncharacteristic moment of tenderness, he washes and combs her hair, revealing his fear. She reassures him, but both know the danger isn’t over. Left alone, (Y/N) struggles to rest, haunted by how close she came to being taken.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The grip on her arm was like iron.

One moment, she was walking behind the others, her steps careful, keeping an eye on the shadows. The next, a rough yank wrenched her off balance, dragging her into the darkness of a narrow alleyway.

She barely had time to react before she was shoved against the damp stone wall, a gloved hand clamping over her mouth. Instinct flared- she thrashed, trying to throw her weight forward, but another force seized her other arm, pinning her in place.

"Quiet." The voice was cold, controlled. A tone that expected obedience.

Three of them. Just like before.

Her heart pounded as she tried to make sense of what was happening. Their clothes were dark, heavy- made for blending in. Beneath their hoods, she caught glimpses of stern faces, sharp eyes that held purpose.

They weren’t just some random thugs looking to mug her.

This was something else.

The man holding her still leaned in slightly, eyes flickering over her face, searching for something. Confirming something.

“She’s the one,” he murmured.

Her blood ran cold.

The second man- broader, his grip bruising her arm- spoke next, voice laced with disdain. “Took us long enough to track her down. She’s been hiding.”

She didn’t understand. Who were these people?

The third figure, standing just behind the others, exhaled sharply. “She doesn’t even know why we’re here...”

She stiffened.

Before she could process that, the first man leaned in closer, his voice quiet but sharp as a blade.

“You’re coming with us.”

No.

She didn’t know who they were or what they wanted, but she knew she couldn’t let them take her.

She jerked against their grip, shoving her weight forward, twisting, trying to rip herself free. The man restraining her hissed in frustration, tightening his hold.

Then, she felt it.

A tingling beneath her skin. A crackling in her bones. A spark, desperate and wild, clawing to the surface.

Her breath came fast, her pulse hammering against her ribs as she fought against the instinct screaming at her to let go. She could- she knew she could- but she wouldn’t. Not here. Not now.

Instead, she did the one thing she avoided at all costs.

She screamed.

A raw, desperate sound tore from her throat, sharp and jagged, cutting through the damp, crowded streets of the Undercity.

The men cursed, reacting instantly. The one holding her mouth recoiled, caught off guard just long enough for her to thrash against his grip. The broader man snarled and clamped down harder on her arm, yanking her back before she could bolt.

“Shut her up,” he snapped.

A gloved hand struck her cheek. The sting was sharp, burning- but she didn’t stop.

She couldn’t stop.

“VANDER! SILCO!!” she screamed again, using every bit of breath in her lungs, hoping- praying- that they heard her before these bastards dragged her away.

Shouting erupted from the streets.

The men tensed.

Her heart soared.

The voices were distant but getting closer- familiar voices.

“(Y/N)?”

Vander.

Then another, sharp and cutting- “Where is she?!”

The hooded figures exchanged looks, calculating.

They had seconds before her people arrived.

The grip on her loosened just slightly- just enough.

And she took her chance.

With everything she had, she drove her knee into the nearest man’s gut, using the momentum to rip her arm free. The other lunged to grab her, but she twisted away, slipping through his fingers just as-

Vander and Silco came crashing into the alley.

Felicia rushed in after, keeping her distance but ready.

Vander was a force of nature, barreling straight for the nearest hooded figure. His sheer presence alone sent the man stumbling back.

Silco was precise, fast, cold- lunging straight for the one who had hit her, a blade flashing in his hand.

Panting, she stumbled back. Felicia was suddenly at her side, gripping her arms, steadying her.

She wasn’t alone... The alley exploded into chaos.

Vander fought like a battering ram, his fists landing like sledgehammers against the people who had been attacking (Y/N). He slammed one against the brick wall, sending the man crumpling to the ground with a sickening crack.

Silco was faster, sharper- his knife found its mark in the shoulder of the second man, twisting with ruthless precision. The man cried out, staggering back, clutching the wound as blood seeped through his cloak.

(Y/N) gasped for breath, pressing a hand to the fresh bruise on her cheek, her heart hammering. She could barely focus as Felicia yanked her further back, shielding her from the fight.

The group was trying to retreat.

They hadn’t expected this.

But just as the last one turned to flee, he moved too fast- too close to her.

It happened in an instant.

A flash of steel.

A searing pain tore through her side.

She sucked in a sharp breath, the world tilting as she looked down.

The blade was small but deep, buried just beneath her ribs. The figure yanked it back, and warmth spread across her torso- blood soaking through the fabric of her cloak.

Felicia screamed.

Silco turned instantly, eyes wide as he saw her sway.

Then, his expression shifted.

Pure, unrelenting rage twisted his features. His hand tightened around his knife.

He didn’t just stab this time- he drove the blade into the man’s gut and twisted it, his face inches from the man’s as he watched the light leave his eyes.

The hooded man gurgled.

Collapsed.

But she barely saw it.

Her knees buckled.

Pain flooded her senses, her breath ragged and shallow. Arms caught her before she hit the ground- Silco, his grip firm but shaking.

“(Y/N)- (Y/N), stay awake.”

Vander was suddenly there, pale-faced, pressing his hands against the wound.

Too much blood.

Felicia hovered, panic tightening her expression. “We need to move. Now.”

The fight was over. The group was either dead or gone.

But (Y/N) was slipping fast.

Silco clenched his jaw, his voice steady but tight. “We’re taking her home.”

Then, without another word, they ran.

Silco didn’t stop.

He couldn’t.

(Y/N)’s blood was everywhere- soaking into his shirt, warm and sticky against his skin as he tightened his grip. She was too still, her head lolling slightly against his shoulder, breath coming in sharp, uneven gasps.

Her eyes- he caught a glimpse of them through her half-lidded stare.

Glowing.

A faint, golden shimmer.

Not now.

Not here.

“Stay with me, (Y/N),” he muttered, barely hearing his own voice over the pounding of his heartbeat. “We’re almost there.”

Vander was at his side, keeping pace despite the panic in his expression. Felicia ran ahead, shoving people out of the way, clearing a path.

The bar was too far.

Too damn far.

Silco’s arms ached, but he didn’t dare let her go.

She stirred slightly, fingers twitching against his chest, lips parting as if to speak. But when she did, it wasn’t words- just a sharp, pained exhale as another jolt of golden light flickered through her hands.

Shit.

They burst through the back entrance of the bar, nearly knocking the door off its hinges.

Benzo took one look at (Y/N), at the blood, at them, and rushed forward.

“Get her upstairs. Now.”

Silco didn’t need to be told twice.

He took the stairs two at a time, Vander right behind him, Felicia on his heels. They reached her room, Silco lowering her onto the bed with a care that felt unnatural for him.

The moment he let go, her body tensed. Her fingers clenched in the sheets as a golden glow crackled up her arms.

She was losing control.

Vander swore. “(Y/N)-”

Silco grabbed her wrist, his grip firm, grounding.

“Breathe,” he ordered, voice sharp, forcing her to look at him.

Her eyes fluttered open- still glowing, but unfocused.

“It... hurts,” she rasped.

“I know.” Silco’s voice softened, but his free hand pressed against her wound, trying to slow the bleeding. “But you need to stay here. You hear me?”

Benzo shoved past Vander, dropping a bowl of water, cloth, and a needle with thread onto the bedside table. “She’s burning up. Someone’s gotta patch her up before she bleeds out.”

Felicia moved first, rolling up her sleeves. “I’ll do it.”

Silco didn’t let go of (Y/N)’s wrist. Vander hovered anxiously at the foot of the bed.

(Y/N)’s breathing was shallow, her hands trembling as golden light flickered along her skin, fading in and out. She was still here, still fighting.

And Silco wasn’t leaving her side.

Felicia’s hands were steady, but her heart pounded in her chest.

(Y/N)’s body was slick with sweat, her magic crackling at her fingertips, sparking against the sheets. It was wild- unstable. Every time she tensed in pain, the light flared, lashing out like a live wire.

“She’s gonna fry me,” Felicia muttered under her breath, threading the needle with shaking fingers.

“Then be quick,” Vander said, his grip tightening on (Y/N)’s shoulders. He and Silco pressed her down to keep her from thrashing.

Silco was still gripping her wrist, his knuckles white. “(Y/N),” he murmured, voice sharp. “You have to stop moving.”

She let out a choked sound- not quite a scream, but damn close. Her body jerked, golden light surging up her arms, singeing the sheets. Small embers hissed against the damp cloth Benzo had thrown over her stomach to catch the blood.

Felicia clenched her jaw. No more hesitating.

“I’m sorry,” she said, and then she pressed the needle into torn skin.

(Y/N) screamed.

Her back arched violently, her arms seizing as another burst of magic crackled out of her. Silco barely flinched as sparks danced up his forearm, burning through his sleeve. Vander gritted his teeth, holding her down as Felicia worked as fast as she could, threading the needle through her flesh, sealing the wound shut.

More sparks. More magic.

(Y/N) convulsed, nails digging into Silco’s arm, breath ragged, uneven.

Felicia’s fingers trembled. The needle was slick with blood. (Y/N)’s blood.

She worked faster.

Silco murmured to her again, voice low, grounding.

(Y/N)’s thrashing slowed.

The light in her hands flickered.

Felicia forced the last stitch through, tying it off with a sharp tug.

“It’s done,” she gasped, pressing a cloth over the wound to stem the bleeding. “She just- she just needs to rest now.”

Silco loosened his grip but didn’t move away. Vander let out a breath, rubbing a hand down his face.

Felicia wiped the sweat from her forehead with a shaky hand.

(Y/N) was barely conscious, her body limp, her breathing shallow. The glow at her fingertips had faded to a dull flicker, no longer sparking against the sheets.

They had stopped the bleeding.

But she had come too close.

Too close to dying.

Too close to losing control.

Felicia swallowed hard. “We can’t let this happen again.”

Vander exhaled. “No. We can’t.”

Silco said nothing. He just stayed where he was, still holding (Y/N)’s wrist, even long after her fingers had gone still.

The world blurred at the edges. The pain in her torso dulled, lost beneath exhaustion and the magic still humming under her skin. Voices murmured in the haze- Silco, firm and steady, grounding her. Vander, heavy with something unspoken. Felicia, exhaling sharply, muttering under her breath. Benzo, chiming in now and then but mostly quiet.

But beyond them, just past the flickering light of the room, stood someone else.

A figure- blurry, shifting, barely tangible.

(Y/N) blinked, her vision hazy, her mind tangled between reality and something else entirely.

The shape before her crackled softly, golden light sparking along its edges.

The same color that bled from her hands when she lost control.

The same magic.

The same blood.

“…Mama?”

The whisper barely left her lips, slipping away into the space between breath and silence.

The figure didn’t speak.

But it watched her.

(Y/N)’s chest tightened. Her fingers twitched, aching to reach forward, to touch what wasn’t really there.

She knew it wasn’t real. Knew it was just her mind playing tricks on her.

Or maybe… something else.

Still.

The golden light crackled again, curling like smoke. And for the briefest moment, she swore she could see her mother’s face- soft, sad, watching her with eyes that held too much.

The same way she had the last time (Y/N) ever saw her awake.

A lump rose in her throat.

“Don’t go,” she murmured.

But her voice barely held weight.

The light flickered- once, twice- before dimming entirely.

The figure was gone.

And (Y/N) finally let herself fall into the dark.

The room was heavy with silence after (Y/N)’s whisper faded. Her outstretched hand fell limply to the mattress, her body finally succumbing to unconsciousness. The faint golden glow at her fingertips flickered out like a dying ember.

Felicia exhaled, shaking out her hands, still stained with (Y/N)’s blood. The stitching was rough, rushed- but it would hold. It had to.

Vander sat heavily on a crate, rubbing his face with both hands, exhaustion clear in the slope of his shoulders.

Silco hadn’t moved. His fingers still rested against (Y/N)’s wrist, checking for a steady pulse. His grip was tight- too tight for someone usually so composed.

Felicia was the first to speak.

“That wasn’t some random street scuffle.” Her voice was quiet, but certain. “That was planned.”

Silco’s jaw tightened. “I know.”

Vander straightened, resting his elbows on his knees. “Did you get a good look at ‘em?”

Silco nodded, eyes dark. “Hooded figures. Armed, coordinated. Not from around here.” His fingers twitched- like he wanted a cigarette- but he didn’t reach for one. “They weren’t just after a payday.”

Felicia swallowed, glancing at (Y/N)’s still form. “They were after her.”

A beat of silence.

Vander let out a long breath. “Then we need to find out who the hell they were.”

Felicia ran a hand through her hair. “If they knew what she is- what she can do this isn’t over.”

Silco’s voice was flat. “She screamed. Drew attention.”

“Good,” Vander said firmly. “Or she’d be dead.”

Felicia shuddered. “And if they’re still watching?”

Silco’s fingers curled into a fist. “Then we make them regret it.”

Vander nodded. “We start asking around. Someone’s bound to know something.” He met Silco’s eyes. “I’ll check the Lanes. See if anyone’s heard about strangers poking around.”

Silco exhaled sharply. “Benzo, you’ll hear more than most at your shop.”

Felicia crossed her arms. “And what about her?” She jerked her chin toward (Y/N). “We can’t leave her alone.”

Silco’s answer was instant. “Then we don’t.”

Vander nodded. “We take shifts.”

Silco looked down at (Y/N), his expression unreadable. “She needs rest.”

Felicia sighed. “We all do.”

But they wouldn’t.

Not tonight.

Tonight, they had work to do.

Benzo left first, pulling his coat tighter around himself before disappearing into the streets. He knew better than to ask too many questions- he’d hear what needed to be heard soon enough.

Felicia sat on the edge of (Y/N)’s bed, arms crossed, watching the slow rise and fall of her friend’s chest. The worst was over, but she still looked pale, her breathing uneven. Felicia reached down, adjusting the blanket over her, though she knew it wouldn’t help much.

“She’ll be fine,” she murmured, more to herself than anyone else.

Silco and Vander stood near the door, preparing to leave. Vander exhaled through his nose, glancing once more at (Y/N). “If anything changes-”

“I’ll come get you,” Felicia finished, giving him a tired look. “I know.”

Silco rolled his shoulders, eyes sharp with something cold. “If she wakes up, don’t let her move. She’ll be stubborn about it.”

Felicia huffed a short, humorless laugh. “No shit.”

Vander placed a hand on Silco’s shoulder, nodding toward the door. “C’mon. The longer we wait, the harder it’ll be to track these bastards down.”

Silco gave (Y/N) one last look before turning sharply and stepping out into the streets. Vander followed, closing the door behind them with a quiet click.

Felicia sighed and leaned back against the wall. “Well, (Y/N),” she muttered, glancing at her unconscious friend. “Looks like you stirred up a real mess this time.” She just hoped they’d be able to clean it up before it got worse.

The Undercity was never quiet, even at night. Vander and Silco moved through the twisting alleyways, boots scuffing against damp stone, the scent of soot and metal thick in the air. They didn’t speak at first- there was no need. Their minds were set on the same goal; finding out who the hell had come after (Y/N).

Vander clenched his fists. “They knew what they were looking for,” he muttered. “Didn’t go after me, didn’t go after you or Felicia. Just her.”

Silco’s jaw tensed. “They knew about her magic.”

Vander shot him a glance. “She’s been careful, Silco. No way word got out just like that.”

Silco exhaled sharply through his nose, sharp eyes scanning the streets ahead. “Doesn’t matter how careful she was. Someone saw something. Someone talked.”

The thought made Vander’s stomach twist. They had spent years making sure (Y/N) kept her secret hidden, had uprooted their lives, moved from place to place, taken jobs in the mines to keep her safe- and still, it wasn’t enough.

They stopped outside a makeshift gambling den wedged between rusted pipes and flickering neon signs. It was one of the places that thrived on knowing things- people paid debts with information as often as they did with coin.

Inside, the air was thick with smoke and tension. Eyes flicked toward them as they stepped inside, taking in their presence but quickly looking away. Vander had a reputation- so did Silco.

They made their way to a table near the back, where a wiry man with thin, calculating eyes was nursing a cheap drink. His name was Lark, and he had a talent for sniffing out whispers in the Undercity.

“Gentlemen,” Lark greeted, his voice smooth, practiced. “Didn’t expect to see you two tonight. What brings you here?”

Silco slid into the seat across from him, Vander standing close behind, arms crossed. “We’re looking for information,” Silco said coolly. “About some hooded bastards prowling the streets. They went after a friend of ours.”

Lark’s lips twitched. “Hooded, huh? That’s not much to go on.”

Vander leaned in, his broad presence casting a shadow over the man. “You know exactly who we’re talking about.”

Lark hesitated, swirling his drink. He measured his words carefully. “You’re talking about the Mageseekers.”

The word hit like a hammer. Silco’s expression remained unreadable, but Vander stiffened slightly.

“Mageseekers?” Vander repeated. “Never heard of ‘em.”

Lark tilted his head. “You wouldn’t have. They don’t come down here often. But when they do, they’re hunting.” He leaned in slightly, voice dropping. “They work for those with money, be it Piltover, Noxus, anyone with the information to give them what they want... Real nasty types. Their job is to sniff out anyone with magic, and when they find ‘em… Well. Let’s just say they don’t send ‘em off with a friendly warning.”

Silco’s fingers drummed once against the table. “Why come all the way down here for one girl?”

Lark gave a loose shrug. “Could be a mistake. Could be she caught their attention somehow. But if the Mageseekers know about her, that means someone up top does too. Piltover doesn’t waste time chasing ghosts…”

Vander exhaled slowly, the weight of the situation settling on his shoulders. This wasn’t just a gang looking for an easy target. This was bigger. More dangerous.

Silco pushed back from the table. “If you hear anything else, you’ll let us know.”

Lark smirked. “Of course. For a price.”

Vander reached into his pocket, tossing a few coins onto the table. Lark scooped them up greedily, nodding in satisfaction.

“Be careful,” Lark said as they turned to leave. “If the Mageseekers have her scent, they won’t stop coming.”

Vander and Silco left the gambling den, stepping back into the cold, oil-slicked streets.

“This is bad,” Vander muttered.

Silco’s gaze was hard, calculating. “We’ll handle it.”

But Vander wasn’t so sure. Because for the first time in a long time, they weren’t just up against the Undercity’s dangers. They were up against Piltover, against Mageseekers… 

The walk back to the bar was silent. Vander and Silco moved with purpose, their minds spinning with what they had just learned. The Mageseekers were bad enough- but the fact that they were sniffing around meant someone in Piltover had taken notice of (Y/N). That alone was enough to make the situation dangerous.

When Vander and Silco reached the bar, the warm glow of the lights was a stark contrast to the cold weight settling in their chests. The place was still closed to the public, but inside, up the stairs, Felicia sat in the same spot she was in before...  On the edge of (Y/N)’s bed, (Y/N) resting beside her.

Felicia looked up as they entered. “Well?” she asked, her voice edged with frustration.

Silco exhaled, running a hand through his dark hair. “Mageseekers,” he said flatly. “They’re sent from Piltover. Hunting people like her.” His gaze flickered to (Y/N), still unconscious, her breathing shallow. “If they found her once, they’ll find her again.”

Felicia’s lips pressed into a thin line. “So what do we do?”

Vander pulled up a chair, resting his forearms on his knees. “We stay close. No more going off alone. No more risks. They’ll come back, and when they do, we’ll be ready.”

Felicia nodded, but something about the way she looked at (Y/N) was uneasy. She knew it wasn’t just about keeping her safe anymore. 

Felicia let out a quiet sigh, rubbing a hand over her tired face. “I’ll go make some food… She will need the energy…” she murmured, though the exhaustion in her voice betrayed her need for a break. She cast one last glance at (Y/N), still motionless on the bed, before rising to her feet.

Vander followed suit, rolling the stiffness from his shoulders. “I’ll be downstairs. Give a shout if anything changes,” he said, though the weight in his tone made it clear he wasn’t expecting good news anytime soon.

Silco remained seated, his sharp eyes never leaving (Y/N). As Vander and Felicia made their way out of the room, the door creaked shut behind them, leaving behind a heavy silence.

For a moment, there was only the dim glow of the bedside lamp, casting flickering shadows across the walls. Silco exhaled slowly, leaning back in his chair, his fingers absently toying with a knife at his belt.

“You really don’t make things easy, do you?” he muttered, watching the slow rise and fall of (Y/N)’s chest.

The Undercity was dangerous enough- but now, with the Mageseekers involved, things had taken a sharp and deadly turn.

(Y/N)'s eyelids fluttered open, the dim glow of the bedside lantern casting soft shadows across the room. Her body felt like it had been dragged across the Undercity’s roughest streets, every movement sending sharp pain through her torso. The wound throbbed, stitched together with Felicia’s quick, practiced hands, but the bruises on her ribs and shoulders made even breathing an effort.

She blinked, disoriented, mind foggy from exhaustion and pain.

Silco was sitting nearby, leaning back in a chair, one leg crossed over the other- his sharp eyes were on her the second she stirred.

“You’re awake.” His voice was quiet, but there was something in it. Relief, maybe. It was hard to tell with Silco sometimes.

(Y/N) groaned, shutting her eyes again. “Unfortunately.”

Silco let out a breath that might’ve been a chuckle. “You had us worried,” he admitted, shifting in his seat.

Her fingers twitched as she tried to push herself up slightly, but pain flared up her side, forcing her back down. She sucked in a breath through her teeth. “Shit.”

“Careful,” Silco warned, watching her struggle. “Felicia stitched you up, but you tear that open, and you’ll be bleeding all over again.”

(Y/N) huffed, frustrated. “Feels like I already am.” She hesitated, eyes flickering to Silco. “What happened?”

He exhaled through his nose, tapping his fingers against his knee. “Mageseekers.”

Her stomach twisted at the name.

Silco’s gaze didn’t waver. “They were following us. They caught you when you strayed too far back. Vander and I got to you before they could take you, but one of them got a lucky hit.”

(Y/N) swallowed hard. “And now?”

Silco leaned forward slightly, resting his elbows on his knees. “Now we wait. See what Benzo finds. But you… you don’t leave the bar. Not alone.”

(Y/N)’s lips pressed into a thin line. She hated being confined. Hated feeling weak. But she wasn’t stupid- she knew this was bad.

Still, something nagged at her. The Mageseekers weren’t usually in the Undercity. They had no reason to be here unless… Unless someone had given them one.

Or unless someone else had sent them.

Her throat felt dry. “…They won’t stop, will they?”

Silco was quiet for a moment. Then, with a voice far softer than she expected, he said, “No. They won’t.”

The weight of that truth settled over her, suffocating.

Outside, the distant hum of the Undercity’s streets carried on, the world moving as if nothing had changed. But for (Y/N), everything had.

Silco hadn’t moved from his seat, his eyes never straying far from her as she sat there, lost in thought. The weight of everything pressed against her ribs, heavy and suffocating. The pain, the attack, the realization that she wasn’t safe- probably never had been.

But what got to her most wasn’t the danger. It wasn’t even the Mageseekers. It was the damn feeling of weakness clawing at her insides.

She felt disgusting. Dried blood clung to her skin, crusted over her stomach where the wound had been stitched. Her clothes were stiff with it, the fabric sticking to her in the worst places. She wanted out of them. She wanted to clean herself up, to not feel like she was still stuck in that alley, surrounded by those hooded bastards.

But moving- hell, even sitting up- wasn’t something she could do on her own.

The realization made her stomach twist. She hated this. Hated asking for help, hated feeling small and pathetic. But she’d rather die than go downstairs like this, looking like something dragged through the Lanes and left to rot.

Her fingers curled into the bedsheets as she debated it, chewing at the inside of her cheek. Silco was still watching her, patient but expectant. He knew she was working through something, but he wasn’t going to pry.

Her throat tightened. She exhaled sharply, barely above a whisper.

“…Can you help me?”

Silco raised an eyebrow. “With?”

She clenched her jaw, looking away. “I need to clean up.”

He didn’t answer right away. Didn’t tease her for the hesitation or draw attention to the shame buried in her voice.

Instead, he just stood.

“Alright.”

Relief flooded through her, though she refused to let it show.

With Silco’s help, she slowly- agonizingly- pushed herself up. Every movement sent fresh spikes of pain through her body, her wound burning, but she bit her tongue and kept quiet. Silco slipped an arm around her waist, careful of the injury, keeping her steady as her legs wobbled beneath her.

“You’re shaking,” he murmured.

“I’ll be fine,” she muttered back, though she wasn’t convinced.

Silco guided her across the room to where the old metal basin sat, a rag and a pitcher of water next to it. It wasn’t much, but it was all they had.

“Sit,” he ordered, helping her onto the stool beside it.

She obeyed, too tired to argue.

The water was cold as she poured some into the basin, soaking the rag before wringing it out. She hissed when the cloth touched her skin, wiping away the dried blood from her stomach. It took more effort than she wanted to admit just to lift the hem of her shirt, exposing the stitches.

Silco watched, arms crossed, but he said nothing.

After a few moments, (Y/N) swallowed her pride again and held the rag out to him.

“…Can you get my back?”

Silco took it without a word.

She sucked in a breath as the cold cloth pressed against her shoulder, dragging down her spine where bruises had already started to form. His movements were precise, careful, but he didn’t hesitate. He never did.

She closed her eyes, letting the silence settle between them.

“…Thank you,” she murmured, voice barely above a breath.

Silco didn’t respond, but he didn’t have to.

Once she was clean, he helped her into fresh clothes, a loose shirt that wouldn’t tug at the stitches, before carefully wrapping a new bandage around her torso. Once done, he carefully brought her back into her room.

(Y/N) sat stiffly on the edge of her bed, still adjusting to the feeling of fresh bandages against her skin. She felt better- cleaner, at least- but the soreness hadn’t faded. Her body ached like hell, but at least she didn’t feel like she was drowning in her own blood anymore.

She thought they were done. Thought Silco would leave her to rest now that she was taken care of.

Instead, he stayed.

She tensed when she felt him move behind her, fingers gathering her tangled hair.

“What are you doing?” she asked, her voice laced with suspicion.

Silco didn’t answer immediately. He took the small comb from her bedside table- one she barely used- and ran it through the strands, carefully working through the knots.

“Your hair’s a mess,” he said simply.

(Y/N) huffed, rolling her eyes. “Yeah, well, getting stabbed tends to make things like brushing my hair less of a priority.”

Silco made a noncommittal sound, focused on his task. He worked in steady strokes, more careful than she expected from someone so sharp-edged. It was… odd.

He was being soft. Unusually so.

(Y/N) didn’t know what to do with that.

She swallowed, staring at her hands in her lap. “…You don’t have to.”

“I know.”

Then why?

The question hung in the air, unspoken.

Silco didn’t answer it, but she could feel it in the way his fingers combed through her hair, untangling the knots with a patience she hadn’t known he possessed.

It wasn’t like him to be openly gentle. But this- this was different.

Maybe he thought she wouldn’t remember. Maybe he assumed the pain, the exhaustion, would dull the weight of this moment. Or maybe he just didn’t care if she noticed.

Either way, she let him do it.

For the first time in a long time, (Y/N) let herself be taken care of.

Silco lingered behind her after tying her hair back, his hands briefly resting on her shoulders before slowly falling away.

He should have left. Should have walked away now that she was taken care of... Instead, he stayed.

(Y/N) sat still, her head slightly bowed, her breathing steady but fragile- like even that took effort. He watched the way her fingers curled into the fabric of her pants, gripping them tightly as if grounding herself.

She had almost died today.

The thought clawed at his mind, tightening in his chest like a vice.

Silco had always understood that death was inevitable in the Undercity. He had seen enough of it to know that anyone could be taken in an instant. But the idea of losing her- of seeing her crumpled in an alley, blood pooling beneath her, magic flickering uncontrollably in her weakened state- was something else entirely.

It was a fear he hadn’t let himself acknowledge.

But now, with her here, still breathing, still alive… He felt it.

(Y/N) exhaled softly, tilting her head slightly, as if sensing the weight of his silence. “You’re still here,” she murmured.

Silco clenched his jaw, steadying himself before responding. “…Yeah.”

A beat of silence stretched between them.

“You’re scared,” she said suddenly.

He stiffened. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

But (Y/N) only gave a tired, knowing smile. “…You are.”

Silco hated that she could see through him.

He hated it even more that she was right.

His hands curled into fists at his sides. “…They almost took you from us.” His voice was low, barely above a whisper, but there was an edge to it- sharp, dangerous, like the promise of a blade in the dark.

(Y/N) swallowed, her fingers loosening their grip on her pants. “But they didn’t,” she reassured, glancing back at him. “I’m still here.”

Silco’s eyes flickered to hers, searching, unreadable.

Still here.

For now.

He let out a slow breath through his nose, his shoulders relaxing just slightly. He reached out without thinking, his fingers brushing against her back lightly- just enough to feel that she was real. That she wasn’t slipping away.

“…Get some rest,” he murmured, finally stepping away.

(Y/N) didn’t stop him this time.

But before he reached the door, she spoke again- soft, but certain.

“…You don’t have to be scared, Sil...”

He didn’t turn around.

Didn’t tell her that it was too late for that.

The room was quiet now, save for the distant hum of the empty bar below and the occasional creak of pipes in the walls. The dim light on the bedside table flickered, casting long shadows across the room.

(Y/N) lay still, her body heavy with exhaustion, but rest wouldn’t come. The dull ache of her wound pulsed in time with her heartbeat, a constant reminder of how close she had come to being taken. She stared at the ceiling, thoughts circling like vultures.

She couldn’t just lie here.

(Y/N) forced herself up with a wince, pressing a hand against her aching side. The stitches pulled uncomfortably, but she had never been the type to stay still for long- especially not now, when there were Mageseekers lurking in the shadows, and questions she desperately needed answers to.

Her boots were quiet against the floor as she made her way down the stairs, the dim glow of the bar’s lanterns casting warm light over the wooden surfaces. The place was still closed, but Vander was behind the counter, cleaning a glass with slow, thoughtful movements.

His gaze flicked up as soon as she reached the bottom step.

“You shouldn’t be up,” he said, his voice edged with something between exasperation and concern.

(Y/N) exhaled, leaning against the counter. “I’d rather be here than lying in bed, thinking too much.”

Vander sighed, setting the glass down. “That wound’s fresh. You push yourself too hard, kid.”

“I’ll live.”

He gave her a look, one that made it very clear he wasn’t amused. “Not if you go tearing your stitches open.”

(Y/N) only offered a faint smirk in return, ignoring the way her body ached as she pulled herself onto one of the barstools. “Benzo back yet?”

Vander shook his head. “Not yet. But I doubt it’ll take long… And Fel is in back cooking...”

She nodded, tapping her fingers against the worn wood of the bar. Silence stretched between them, save for the distant hum of the Undercity beyond the doors.

It was Silco who finally broke it.

“I told you to rest,” he muttered from his seat near the end of the bar, watching her with sharp, unimpressed eyes.

(Y/N) turned to him, raising a brow. “And I told you I’m fine.”

Silco’s gaze flickered to her side, to the way she was ever so slightly favoring it. “…Sure you are.”

She rolled her eyes, but before she could retort, a door swung open at the far end of the room. Felicia emerged from the back, wiping her hands on a rag, her expression set in a tired scowl.

She froze for a second, eyes narrowing as she took in (Y/N), sitting at the bar when she was supposed to be resting. Then, with a sharp exhale, she threw the rag down onto a nearby table.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” she muttered, already storming toward her. “You got stabbed, hours ago, and you’re up and walking around like it’s nothing?”

“I can’t just lay around,” (Y/N) muttered, swaying slightly as she tried to sit up on her stool. “We both know this isn’t over.”

Felicia let out a dry, humorless laugh. “Yeah, no shit. And you bleeding out on the floor is really gonna help, huh?” She sighs, shaking her head. “I made stew. You’re eating, and then you’re resting. Or Ill knock you out myself…”

There was no real threat behind her words, just frustration, worry- the kind that only came from caring too much. But (Y/N) wasn’t sure she had it in her to fight back against that right now.

(Y/N) didn’t argue, she just slowly nodded. She was too tired. And, truth be told… the stew smelled pretty damn good.

“Good,” Felicia muttered. She crossed her arms, shaking her head. “Stubborn idiot.”

(Y/N) smirked faintly. “Takes one to know one.”

Ember in the Dark pt.4

Young!Silco x Fem!Reader

pt.3 - pt.5

pt.1

Warnings: Alcohol consumption, Smoking, and threat/following.

Word Count: 3895

Summary: Drunk and lost in thought, (Y/N) is helped to her room by Silco, who dismisses her drunken compliments about his appearance despite the buried feelings they stir. The next morning, she wakes with a pounding hangover and regret but pushes forward. Down in the bar, she shares a tense yet teasing conversation with Silco about the previous night. After making breakfast for their group, (Y/N), Silco, Vander, and Felicia head out to handle supply shipments. Along the way, (Y/N) notices hooded figures following them. She and Silco silently acknowledge the potential threat, deciding to stay cautious.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The night stretched on, the hum of the Undercity’s distant machinery a lull beneath the quiet of the nearly empty bar.

(Y/N) had long since stopped paying attention to her drink, her fingers still loosely curled around her cigarette, the ember fading to nothing. She slumped against the bar, her head resting on her folded arms, her thoughts drifting somewhere Silco couldn’t follow.

He watched her for a moment, then sighed.

She was a mess. But then again, weren’t they all?

With quiet efficiency, he slid off his stool, stepping around to her side. "Come on," he murmured, voice softened just enough to be different from his usual sharpness.

She barely moved, blinking sluggishly as he pried the cigarette from her fingers, snuffing it out before guiding her up. She was unsteady, the alcohol dragging her limbs down like lead, but she followed his lead without complaint.

He brought her to her room- small, tucked away, but hers. He wasn’t gentle, not exactly, but he was careful as he eased her onto the thin mattress. She flopped onto it with a quiet sigh, her eyes half-lidded, lost somewhere between wakefulness and the pull of exhaustion.

Silco turned to leave.

Then- a hand on his wrist.

Her grip was weak, barely there, but it stopped him nonetheless.

He glanced back.

(Y/N) wasn’t looking at him, her gaze still distant, but her fingers curled slightly, as if to keep him from disappearing like the rest of her thoughts.

For a long moment, Silco just stood there.

Then, with an exhale, he sat down at the edge of the bed.

He wouldn’t stay forever. But for now? He’d stay.

(Y/N) stared up at him, her eyes glassy, unfocused- but still seeing him. Really seeing him.

Silco wasn’t looking at her. He was sitting at the edge of the bed, his elbows resting on his knees, fingers loosely clasped together as he exhaled through his nose. He looked exhausted, always carrying the weight of his thoughts, his ambitions. The dim light filtering through the grimy window cast soft shadows over his face, highlighting sharp angles, tired blue eyes.

Gods, he was pretty.

The thought drifted through her whiskey-soaked mind before she could stop it, her lips parting slightly as if she might say it aloud.

She had fallen in love with him years ago, back when they were younger, when their world had been a little smaller, their dreams a little simpler. She had never said anything, never acted on it. What good would it do? They had always been fighting for survival, struggling to carve out something more in a city that tried to swallow them whole.

But the whiskey made her tongue looser than it should have been.

"You know," she murmured, her voice softer than usual, slightly slurred. "You’re really pretty."

Silco blinked, turning his head to look at her properly.

(Y/N) just smiled lazily, her cheek pressed against the pillow, eyes still locked on his face. "Too pretty, really… s’not fair."

Silco scoffed, shaking his head. "You’re drunk."

She hummed in agreement. "Maybe."

He looked away, rubbing a hand over his face, muttering something under his breath about her being a lightweight.

(Y/N) just kept watching him, her mind a fog of whiskey and years of feelings buried too deep.

"Bet you don’t even realize," she mused, her voice barely above a whisper.

Silco turned back to her, brow furrowed. "Realize what?"

(Y/N) just smiled, slow and lopsided.

"Nothing," she murmured, letting her eyes slip shut. She’d keep her secret, for now.

Sleep took her quickly, pulling her under like the tide. The stress of the day, the weight of unspoken thoughts, and the whiskey swirling in her system all dragged her into the depths of exhaustion.

Silco sat there for a moment longer, watching the slow, steady rise and fall of her breath.

She had always been like this- carrying too much, saying too little. Even now, in her drunken haze, she had stopped herself before saying something real.

With a quiet exhale, he stood, carefully pulling the thin blanket over her.

"Idiot," he muttered, though there was no real bite to the word.

Then, with one last glance at her sleeping form, he turned and left the room, shutting the door softly behind him.

(Y/N) woke with a groan, her head pounding like someone had taken a hammer to the inside of her skull. Her mouth was dry, her stomach twisted in protest, and every little sound outside her room felt like a personal attack.

Shit.

She had done this to herself. Again.

It wasn’t the first time she had woken up feeling like death after drinking too much, and it probably wouldn’t be the last. Still, that didn’t make it any less miserable.

For a moment, she just lay there, her face buried in the pillow, trying to will the world away. But she knew better. The longer she stayed in bed, the worse she’d feel.

With a groan, she forced herself to sit up. The room spun slightly, her stomach lurching in protest, but she swallowed it down, running a hand through her tangled hair.

She needed water. Food, maybe. And a cigarette.

With slow, sluggish movements, she dragged herself out of bed and started getting ready for the day, just like every other morning.

(Y/N) moved through her morning routine on autopilot, every action deliberate and slow to avoid making herself feel worse. Don’t move too fast, don’t think too hard, don’t throw up.

By the time she was dressed, her head still felt like it was stuffed with cotton, and her stomach was a mess of nausea and regret. But she had survived worse.

She made her way downstairs, the air in the bar thick with the lingering scent of old liquor and smoke. It was still early- too early for business. The Last Drop didn’t open until midday, sometimes later, depending on what Vander felt like or how much of a headache they all had to deal with.

The place was quiet, save for the distant hum of the Undercity beyond the walls.

(Y/N) let out a slow breath and leaned against the bar, rubbing at her temple. She needed coffee. Or maybe just another drink to even herself out.

She wasn’t sure which sounded worse.

(Y/N) opted for the easiest solution- whiskey.

With a practiced reach over the bar, she grabbed the bottle and poured herself a glass, the amber liquid sloshing slightly as she tried to be steady. She took a slow sip, wincing as the burn hit her throat. It wasn’t pleasant, but it was better than the headache clawing at her skull.

She was halfway through the glass when she heard footsteps descending the stairs.

Silco.

He stepped into the dimly lit bar, looking as put-together as ever, despite the late night before. His sharp gaze flickered to her, then down to the glass in her hand.

“Whiskey for breakfast?” he asked dryly, his voice laced with amusement.

(Y/N) didn’t bother looking up. “Helps the headache.”

Silco scoffed, moving toward the bar. “It causes the headache.”

She shrugged, taking another sip. “Then I’m just balancing things out.”

He leaned against the counter, watching her for a long moment.

“You remember anything from last night?” he asked, his tone casual- too casual.

That made her pause.

She frowned slightly, her mind sluggish as she tried to recall the details of the night before. She remembered drinking. She remembered feeling heavy- dragged down by old memories and smoke. She remembered Silco bringing her to bed…

And then-

Shit.

She had said something, hadn’t she?

(Y/N) took another sip of whiskey, refusing to meet his gaze.

“Not much,” she muttered. “Just that I drank too much.”

Silco hummed, unconvinced, but he didn’t push.

“Figures,” he said, reaching over to steal the glass from her hand, taking a sip himself.

(Y/N) rolled her eyes but didn’t argue… Maybe it was better if they both let last night go.

(Y/N) exhaled a long breath, pulling out a cigarette and lighting it with steady hands- too steady, considering the storm in her head.

She didn’t want to let it go.

Even if the whiskey had dulled the details, she knew what had been there underneath- the truth of it. It wasn’t some drunken slip, some meaningless flattery. It had been real.

And maybe it was stupid, definitely reckless, but for once, she didn’t want to bite her tongue and bury it.

She watched as Silco took another sip from her glass, his sharp eyes already moving past the conversation, onto something else.

(Y/N) took a slow drag of her cigarette, letting the smoke settle in her lungs before she spoke.

“I meant it.”

Silco raised a brow, setting the glass down with a quiet clink. “Meant what?”

Her fingers tightened slightly around the cigarette. “What I said last night.”

Silco studied her, the amusement from earlier fading into something unreadable.

(Y/N) exhaled smoke, glancing off to the side. “I don’t remember everything, but I know I meant it.” She flicked ash into a nearby tray, her voice lower now. “Still do.”

A beat of silence stretched between them.

Silco leaned forward slightly, his expression unreadable. “You are aware you were completely sloshed, yes?”

(Y/N) scoffed. “Doesn’t mean I was wrong.”

Another silence.

Then, Silco smirked, slow and sharp. “I am quite pretty, aren’t I?”

(Y/N) rolled her eyes but couldn’t stop the slight curve of her lips. “Asshole.”

Silco just chuckled, pushing the whiskey back toward her. “If you’re going to start confessing things, at least wait until you’re not hungover.”

(Y/N) shook her head, taking another sip. Maybe she would, maybe she wouldn’t… But at least she had said something.

(Y/N) downed the last of her drink, stubbing out her cigarette in the ashtray before stretching her arms over her head. The whiskey had dulled the edges of her hangover, at least a little, but it wouldn’t last forever.

Time to get moving.

She pushed off the bar, glancing at Silco, who had already made himself comfortable with her glass of whiskey, refilling it. “You planning on helping, or just sitting there looking pretty?”

Silco smirked. “I think you already established my strengths.”

(Y/N) rolled her eyes and made her way toward the small kitchen in the back. The Last Drop wasn’t exactly known for its fine dining, but they had enough supplies to make something decent- decent meaning anything edible that kept them from starving.

Felicia and Connol usually stopped by around this time, and Benzo wasn’t far behind. It had become something of an unspoken routine, a part of their mornings that had settled naturally into place. And (Y/N)? She was usually the one who ended up making breakfast.

She didn’t mind, though.

It was something normal. A small, steady thing in the chaos of the Undercity.

She gathered what ingredients they had- eggs, some bread that wasn’t too stale, and whatever meat Vander had managed to get his hands on- and started cooking, the familiar sounds of sizzling filling the air as she focused on the simple motions.

Soon, the others would show up. The bar would come alive again, and another day in the Lanes would begin.

(Y/N) carried the plates out to the bar, setting them down so everyone could grab what they wanted when they arrived. The scent of cooked food lingered in the air, mixing with the ever-present smell of smoke and old whiskey.

They still had time before the bar opened for the day, so for now, things were slow- calm, even.

Benzo was the first to arrive, pushing open the door with a casual stride. “Smells good in here,” he commented, tossing a glance toward the food. “Better than whatever the hell that street vendor was sellin’ on my way over.”

(Y/N) smirked as she leaned against the bar. “That’s not exactly a high bar, Benzo.”

He chuckled, grabbing a plate without hesitation. “Hey, food is food.”

Not long after, Felicia and Connol arrived.

Felicia was talking before she even stepped fully inside. “Finally! I was starting to think you forgot about breakfast, (Y/N).”

(Y/N) scoffed. “Like I’d let you starve.”

Connol, quiet as usual, gave a nod in greeting before helping himself to some food. He had been around more lately- a lot more, and while (Y/N) didn’t fully know what to make of him yet, he seemed alright. He made Felicia happy, at least, and that was worth something.

Everyone settled in, eating and talking, the morning taking on the familiar rhythm of their routine. For a little while, it almost felt… normal.

Once breakfast was done and the plates were cleared, (Y/N) wiped her hands on a rag before making her way over to Vander and Silco, who were already deep in conversation near the bar.

Vander had his arms crossed, his usual serious expression in place, while Silco leaned against the counter, flipping through his notebook.

(Y/N) slid into the space between them, raising a brow. “So, what’s the plan for today?”

Vander glanced at her, then exhaled, rubbing a hand over his beard. “Depends.”

Silco, without looking up from his notes, added, “We’ve got some shipments coming in later- nothing major, but enough to keep an eye on.”

Vander nodded. “And I was thinkin’ we might head back to the mines later, put in a few hours. Keep up appearances.”

(Y/N) sighed. They didn’t have to work in the mines as much anymore, not with the Last Drop slowly becoming a more stable source of income, but keeping ties there was still important. “Figures.”

Silco finally shut his notebook, glancing between them. “And, if we have time, I wouldn’t mind checking out a few places in the Lanes. Get a read on things.”

That caught (Y/N)’s attention. “You mean more than just ‘getting a read,’ don’t you?”

Silco smirked. “Always.”

Vander gave him a look but didn’t argue.

(Y/N) crossed her arms, considering. A trip to the Lanes could mean anything- connections, information, or just making sure they weren’t falling behind on what was happening in the Undercity.

“Alright,” she said finally. “Sounds like a full day.”

Vander grunted in agreement, and Silco just gave a knowing tilt of his head. With the plan set, they went over the details quickly.

“Alright,” Vander said, leaning against the bar with his arms crossed. “First, we handle the shipments. Make sure everything’s in order.”

Silco nodded, already thinking ahead. “After that, we move through the Lanes, see what’s stirring. There’s been talk of tensions rising in a few places- I’d rather not be blindsided.”

(Y/N) exhaled, rolling her shoulders. “And then we finish off in the mines.” She smirked. “Saving the best for last.”

Vander chuckled. “We’ll be in and out. Just enough to show our faces.”

Felicia, who had been listening from the side while finishing the last of her drink, stretched her arms over her head. “Sounds like a long day.”

Silco shot her a dry look. “You are still capable of working, yes?”

Felicia smirked. “Oh, don’t worry. I’ll be there. Just don’t expect me to be happy about it.”

With everything decided, they gathered what they needed. (Y/N) grabbed her coat, Silco tucked his notebook away, and Vander made sure the bar was set to be running while they were gone. He had gotten one of his newly hired bartenders to come in, along with asking Benzo to sit around and drink… Just to watch things. 

Then, without wasting any more time, they headed out into the Undercity to start their day.

Felicia lingered by the door, saying a quick goodbye to Connol before he disappeared into the winding streets of the Undercity. Whatever he did during the day was still a bit of a mystery- probably something inventive. He looked like the type to be scientific, always thinking, always watching.

But that wasn’t (Y/N)’s concern right now.

With Connol gone, the four of them set off, making their way through the dimly lit streets toward where the shipments were being delivered. The air was thick with the usual blend of smoke, oil, and the distant hum of machinery. It was a scent that clung to everything in the Undercity.

As they walked, Vander took the lead, his broad frame naturally clearing a path where needed. Silco, as always, kept sharp eyes on their surroundings, his thoughts likely already drifting toward whatever he expected to find in the Lanes later. Felicia walked beside (Y/N), hands in her pockets, a casual bounce in her step despite the rough streets beneath them.

(Y/N) flicked the butt of a cigarette into the gutter as they approached their destination- a tucked-away storage lot run by a man named Harker, a supplier they’d worked with a few times before. The shipments weren’t anything fancy, just supplies for the Last Drop- booze, some preserved goods, and whatever else they needed to keep the place running.

Vander stepped up first, knocking twice on the metal door. It took a moment, but soon enough, they heard the sound of locks shifting before Harker himself pulled the door open.

The man squinted at them, his face rough with age and soot. “You’re early,” he grunted.

Vander shrugged. “You got it ready or not?”

Harker snorted, stepping aside to let them in. “Yeah, yeah. Come on in. Just don’t touch nothin’ that ain’t yours.”

(Y/N) exchanged a glance with Silco before following the others inside. Time to get to work.

(Y/N) adjusted her grip on one of the heavier crates, the weight digging into her arms as she walked alongside the others. The streets of the Undercity were always filled with movement- faces ducking in and out of alleyways, the low hum of machinery echoing in the distance- but something felt different.

She had noticed them the moment they left the Last Drop- a few hooded figures lingering just a little too long in the alleys, their steps just a little too measured. At first, she thought it might be a coincidence, just another group moving through the Undercity like everyone else.

But now, as they neared the bar, she knew they were being followed.

She didn’t say anything at first, choosing instead to glance toward Silco, who was walking slightly ahead of her. His sharp gaze was usually quick to pick up on things like this- he had to have noticed, right?

Felicia, carrying a smaller crate beside her, was too caught up in complaining about the weight to notice anything. “Seriously, why does alcohol have to be so damn heavy? Can’t we start serving something lighter?”

“Like what?” Vander asked dryly, barely breaking stride.

Felicia huffed. “I dunno, something that doesn’t make my arms feel like they’re gonna fall off.”

(Y/N) wasn’t listening. She shifted her hold on the crate, subtly glancing over her shoulder.

The hooded figures were still there. Three of them. Keeping their distance, but staying close enough that it wasn’t natural.

Her pulse quickened, but her expression remained calm.

Silco turned his head slightly- just enough for his eyes to flicker toward her before looking forward again. He had noticed.

Good.

(Y/n) exhaled through her nose, keeping her pace steady. They were close to the bar now, but that didn’t mean they were safe. Whoever these people were, they weren’t just watching- they were waiting.

For what?

And more importantly- why?

As soon as the last crate was set down in the storage room, (Y/N) dusted off her hands and made her way over to Silco. He was already expecting her.

The others were still busy- Vander double-checking the shipments, Felicia stretching her arms and complaining about the heavy lifting. It gave (Y/N) the perfect moment to pull Silco aside, just out of earshot.

“You saw them too,” she muttered, keeping her voice low.

Silco leaned against the wall, arms crossed, his sharp eyes watching her carefully. “Of course I did.” His tone was calm, but there was a knowing edge to it.

(Y/N) exhaled, running a hand through her hair. “They’ve been following us since we left the bar. I didn’t get a good look, but… they weren’t just passing through.”

Silco hummed in agreement. “No. They weren’t.”

That unsettled her. If Silco was concerned, it meant this wasn’t just her overthinking things.

“You think they’re watching us specifically?” she asked.

Silco tilted his head slightly, considering. “Possibly. Could be unrelated, but I doubt it.” He glanced toward the door. “Three of them, moving like they had a purpose. If they wanted to attack, they would’ve done it already. That means they were either scouting us or waiting for something.”

(Y/N) crossed her arms. “And that’s what worries me.”

Silco studied her for a moment before lowering his voice even further. “Did you notice anything about them? Anything off?”

(Y/N) thought back. They moved well, blending into the streets with ease. But something had felt strange about them. “Their movements were too careful,” she muttered. “Like they weren’t just random thugs.”

Silco’s expression didn’t change, but she could see the gears turning in his head. “We’ll have to keep an eye out. If they’re still around by the time we head to the Lanes, we’ll know for sure.”

(Y/N) nodded. “Should we tell Vander and Felicia?”

Silco considered it, then shook his head. “Not yet. No need to spook them if this turns out to be nothing.” (Y/N) hesitated but ultimately agreed. For now, they’d just have to watch their backs.

With the shipments handled and the Last Drop running smoothly for now, the four of them set off once more, weaving through the winding paths of the Undercity. The Lanes were the heart of the Undercity’s chaos- filled with traders, workers, gang members, and those just trying to survive another day. It was where information spread fastest, where rumors carried weight, and where they could keep their fingers on the pulse of the city.

(Y/N) stayed alert, her eyes flickering to the shadows between buildings, the alleys where trouble tended to brew. She hadn’t seen the hooded figures since they returned to the bar, but that didn’t mean they were gone.

Vander led the way, as he often did, his presence alone enough to command respect. People recognized him now- not as some leader, not yet, but as someone reliable, someone who got things done. Silco walked beside him, quiet but watchful, his mind likely still working through the same concerns (Y/N) had.

Felicia, as usual, brought a different kind of energy to the group. “We should get something to eat while we’re out,” she suggested, stretching her arms. “That stew from Elda’s stall? Real good. And I’m starving.”

Vander smirked. “You’re always starving.”

Felicia grinned. “Yeah, well, lifting crates all morning will do that.”

(Y/N) barely heard them, her attention on the movement around them. She caught glimpses of familiar faces- merchants selling scrap, chem-dealers peddling their poisons, Enforcers nowhere to be seen. It was business as usual.

But still… something felt off.

As they rounded a corner near one of the busier market areas, she caught it again- just for a second. A hooded figure, leaning against a wall, just barely in her peripheral vision. By the time she turned her head fully, they were gone.

Her stomach twisted… They were still being watched.

Ember in the Dark pt.3

Young!Silco x Fem!Reader

pt.2 - pt.4

pt.1

Warnings: Survival Struggle, Dark Themes, Alcohol use, Smoking, Themes of oppression and struggle, and Trauma.

Word Count: 2893

Summary: After a failed heist exposes (Y/N)’s magic, she, Vander, Silco, and Felicia lay low by working in the mines. Over the years, they establish themselves in the Undercity, with Vander saving to buy the bar that becomes the "Last Drop." As their influence grows, Silco shares his vision of an independent Zaun, planting the seed of revolution. While Vander is hesitant, (Y/N) listens- intrigued but cautious. Lost in her past, she drowns her thoughts in smoke and whiskey, avoiding what haunts her. Yet, the idea of change lingers, and the path ahead is uncertain.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The weight of (Y/N)’s secret still hung thick in the air, pressing against them like the smog outside their hideout. Now that everyone knew, there was no going back.

She sat cross-legged on the floor, staring at her hands- at the faint traces of magic that still tingled beneath her skin. The others were quiet, each of them lost in their own thoughts.

Silco was the first to break the silence. "We need a plan."

Felicia snorted. "You think?" She gestured vaguely in (Y/N)’s direction. "This isn’t just some petty theft or smuggling job, Silco. She’s a mage. The second the wrong people find out, they’ll be all over us."

Vander leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. His face was grim. "Felicia’s right. The Enforcers will come looking for whoever set off that magic during the heist. We don’t know if anyone saw your face, but if they did…" His jaw tightened. "It won’t just be you they come for, (Y/N). It’ll be all of us."

(Y/N)’s stomach twisted.

She knew. She knew.

She had spent her whole life hiding, knowing that even in the Undercity, where the laws were loose and survival meant everything, people still feared magic. Mages were either used, sold out, or killed.

Silco was watching her again, that calculating look back in his eyes. "Do you know how to control it?"

(Y/N) hesitated.

"Kind of," she admitted. "I’ve had to teach myself, but it’s-" She swallowed. "It’s not perfect. And when I panic, it’s harder to stop."

Felicia let out a long breath. "So if something goes wrong, you might accidentally blow up a building?"

(Y/N) shot her a glare. "I don’t blow things up."

"Could’ve fooled me."

"Felicia," Vander warned, before turning back to (Y/N). "We’ll figure it out," he said, like it was that simple. Like they could just sit down and solve this like any other problem.

(Y/N) wished she could believe that.

Silco leaned against the wall, arms crossed. "You need practice," he said bluntly. "You need to learn how to control it before it controls you."

(Y/N) frowned. "And how exactly do you suggest I do that? I can’t exactly go around throwing magic in the streets."

"Underground," Silco said without hesitation. "There are places in the Lanes where no one asks questions. The lower sectors, the abandoned tunnels- hell, even the Fissures. People go missing down there all the time. No one would notice a few sparks."

Vander didn’t look convinced. "And if someone does see?"

Silco tilted his head, smirking slightly. "Then we make sure they don’t talk."

Felicia groaned. "Great. Now we’re considering murder. Love that."

"We’re not killing anyone," Vander said firmly. "But Silco’s right about one thing- (Y/N) does need to learn how to control it. If the Enforcers come knocking, she needs to be able to hide it. Or fight back."

(Y/N)’s hands curled into fists. "I don’t want to fight."

Vander’s face softened. "I know."

Felicia sighed, rubbing her temples. "Alright. Say we do train her. Say she figures out how to keep her magic in check. What’s the endgame here? We just keep hiding forever?"

The room fell silent again.

Because none of them had an answer.

Eventually, someone would find out. The Undercity thrived on secrets, but it also thrived on selling them. And (Y/N)’s magic was worth more than just coin.

Silco’s gaze flickered toward her. "We don’t have to figure out everything tonight. But the sooner you learn to control it, the safer we all are."

(Y/N) took a slow, shaky breath. She didn’t like it. She didn’t want this.

But what choice did she have?

"Okay," she murmured. "I’ll do it."

Felicia sighed dramatically, throwing up her hands. "Fine. But if you do accidentally blow something up, I’m telling everyone it was Silco’s idea."

Silco smirked. "You say that like it would be the first time."

(Y/N) rolled her eyes, but something in her chest loosened… They weren’t running yet, but they would be ready when the time came.

The decision settled over them like dust, thick and inescapable. If they wanted to keep (Y/N) safe, they needed to stay put. No more bouncing from hideout to hideout, no more risky jobs that put them in Enforcer sights.

For a while now, they had talked about joining the Miners. It wasn’t glamorous work- nothing in the Undercity was- but it was steady, and more importantly, it was a place to disappear.

Felicia was the first to voice it aloud. "We should actually head for the mines, I guess..."

Vander nodded, rubbing his chin. "Yeah. The mines are deep enough that no one asks questions. No Enforcers, no Pilties. Just workers doing what they have to do to survive."

Silco looked less convinced. "It’s miserable work," he pointed out. "Back-breaking, dangerous, and not exactly known for long life expectancy."

"It’s better than getting caught," (Y/N) muttered.

That shut him up.

Felicia huffed, leaning back against the wall. "Besides, people go missing in the mines all the time. If (Y/N) needs a place to train, no one’s going to notice a little flicker of magic in some abandoned tunnel. They’ll just assume it’s fumes or gas leaks."

(Y/N)’s stomach twisted. She didn’t like the idea of being buried underground, of working herself to exhaustion in the mines just to stay invisible. But she liked the alternative even less.

Vander stretched, cracking his neck. "We’ll need to find someone to vouch for us. Miners don’t just take in new hands without a good word."

Silco smirked. "I might know someone."

Felicia raised a brow. "Of course you do."

"I make it a point to know useful people."

(Y/N) exhaled slowly, then nodded. "Okay. If this is what we have to do, then let’s do it."

The decision was made.

Tomorrow, they would start making arrangements. They would lay low, keep (Y/N) hidden, and work in the mines until they figured out their next move.

For now, it was enough to have a plan, it was enough to be together…

The years in the mines had hardened them all, but they had done what they set out to do. (Y/N) could control her magic now, keeping it hidden when needed, calling on it when necessary. She had learned to harness it, to let it flow without losing herself to it.

And more importantly, she had survived.

The four of them still lived together, still watched each other’s backs, but things were changing. They weren’t just desperate kids scrambling to make it through another day. They had goals now, real ones.

Vander had been saving for a while, working longer shifts, cutting corners on meals, taking riskier but better-paying jobs when he could. And now, he had almost enough to buy the old abandoned bar near the Markets.

Felicia had rolled her eyes when he first mentioned it. "You want to be a bartender now?"

Vander had just grinned. "I want to own something. To have a place of our own. A real home."

The idea had stuck.

It would take time, but if they pulled it off, it could be the start of something bigger. A place where they didn’t have to run. A place they could build something for themselves.

Silco had been skeptical at first, but even he had to admit- having a secure location came with its advantages. And Felicia? Well, she liked the idea of a bar because it meant easy access to drinks and a place to keep an eye on the people who owed them favors.

(Y/N)? She just liked the idea of having a home that wasn’t temporary.

They weren’t there yet. But soon, they would be.

And for the first time in a long time, the future felt like something worth looking forward to.

The mines had given them more than just a way to hide- they had given them purpose. Vander and Silco had worked their way up the ranks, gaining respect and authority, while (Y/N) and Felicia put in long hours, their earnings adding to Vander’s growing stash.

The bar was so close to being theirs.

And now, they just had to name it.

"‘The Last Drop,’" Vander mused, leaning back in his chair. "I like it."

Felicia snorted. "Of course, you do. It sounds dramatic enough for you."

(Y/N) smirked. "It is a good name, though. Feels… fitting."

Silco nodded, swirling the cheap liquor in his glass. "A place for the desperate. The ones at the end of their rope. The last refuge before you fall."

Vander grinned. "See? Dramatic. But I like that."

Felicia raised her hands in surrender. "Fine, fine. ‘The Last Drop’ it is."

It felt right… It wasn’t just a name. It was theirs.

It didn't take long to actually achieve it.

After years of scraping by, of moving from place to place, of struggling just to survive, they finally had something permanent…

Vander had stood in the middle of the empty space, hands on his hips, taking it all in with a quiet sense of pride. "Needs work," he had admitted. "But we’ll fix it up."

And they did.

It wasn’t grand, not yet, but it had walls, a roof that mostly kept the rain out, and a counter where drinks could be poured. It had a future.

As Vander and Silco’s reputation grew, so did their network of trusted allies. They weren’t in power- not yet- but they had people who listened when they spoke. People who respected them. And in the Undercity, that was worth more than coin.

One of those people was Benzo, a shop owner they had recently met. His pawn shop sat close to the bar, a place filled with oddities, old weapons, and trinkets that told stories of lives long past. He was sharp, experienced, and- most importantly- he knew things. The kind of man who had eyes and ears in the right places.

And then there was Connol.

Felicia had met him recently, and though she hadn’t shared much about him yet, there was something different in the way she talked about him. A flicker of something new.

The world was shifting around them, and they were finally in a position to shape it instead of just surviving it.

For the first time in years, the future wasn’t just something to fear. It was something to build.

The bar had settled into a comfortable quiet, the kind that only came when the night had dragged on and most of the patrons had stumbled home.

(Y/N) exhaled a slow breath, the ember of her cigarette glowing softly in the dim light. Next to her, Silco leaned over his book, writing with careful strokes, his whiskey glass half-full beside him. Vander stood behind the bar, absentmindedly wiping down the counter, still getting used to the rhythm of tending to the place.

Felicia wasn’t here- she had been disappearing more and more, off doing whatever it was she did with Connol. None of them had asked. Not yet.

Silco turned a page, but his mind wasn’t on the words. It hadn’t been for a while.

He had been thinking- turning an idea over in his mind, letting it take root, letting it grow. The Undercity… It wasn’t just a slum, wasn’t just a place where people survived at the mercy of Piltover’s scraps. It could be more. It should be more.

And maybe- just maybe- they could be the ones to make it happen.

He tapped his pen against the book, then glanced at (Y/N), who was watching him through the smoke curling between them.

"You’ve got that look again," she murmured.

Silco smirked. "What look?"

"The one that means you’re thinking too much."

Vander chuckled from behind the bar. "That is a dangerous thing."

Silco leaned back in his seat, swirling the whiskey in his glass. "Have you ever thought about what the Undercity could be?"

Vander raised a brow. "It is what it is, Silco."

Silco shook his head. "No, it’s what they let it be. Piltover controls everything- our work, our trade, our lives. We live in their shadow, scraping by, pretending that’s all we’ll ever have."

(Y/N) stubbed out her cigarette, watching him closely. "And you think we can change that?"

Silco’s grip tightened around his glass. "I know we can."

Vander sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. "Silco…"

"No, listen," Silco pressed, leaning forward. "We have a foothold now. We have people who trust us, who listen to us. The bar isn’t just a business- it’s a gathering place. A starting point." His eyes gleamed with conviction. "We could be more than this. It could stand on its own. No more crawling to Piltover for scraps. No more living under their rule."

Silco let the words settle between them.

(Y/N) glanced at Vander, who was frowning, thoughtful but hesitant.

"You want to make a war out of this?" Vander finally asked, voice low.

Silco exhaled slowly. "I want to make a home. A real one. One where we don’t have to answer to anyone but ourselves... We can make Zaun..."

(Y/N) was quiet for a long moment. Then, slowly, she reached for another cigarette. "You really think we could pull it off?"

Silco met her gaze, unwavering. "I think if we don’t, no one else ever will."

Vander sighed again, shaking his head- but he didn’t argue.

Because deep down, maybe part of him agreed.

Silco let the idea simmer, allowing Vander and (Y/N) to sit with it, to think about it. He knew better than to push too fast- Vander was cautious, (Y/N) measured. But the seed was planted.

He had spent years thinking about it, turning the idea over in his mind like a gambler weighing his last coin. The Undercity didn’t have to be a gutter for Piltover’s discarded souls. It could be Zaun- not just a slum, not just the shadows beneath the gleaming city above, but a true city. A force of its own.

The mines, the industry, the people- they were the backbone of Piltover’s prosperity. Without them, the Pilties would crumble under the weight of their own arrogance. And yet, the Undercity was treated as a wasteland, a place to be managed rather than respected.

Silco envisioned something greater. A Zaun that stood apart, that no longer bowed to Piltover’s rules. A Zaun where they decided their own future, not one dictated by Piltover’s Enforcers and Council laws.

The bar was quiet now, save for the occasional clink of glass and the low hum of the Undercity’s ever-present machinery beyond its doors. The night stretched on, thick with unspoken thoughts and the weight of Silco’s vision lingering between them.

(Y/N) nursed her drink, her fingers loosely wrapped around the glass as the warmth of it settled in her chest. She was buzzed- definitely buzzed. A lightweight, as always. But that was just how things were down here. You started young, numbing the cold grip of the Undercity however you could.

Vander had stopped trying to stop her a long time ago.

"You’re thinking about it," Silco mused beside her, his voice low and knowing.

(Y/N) smirked lazily, swirling the remnants of her drink. "’Course I am. It’s a lot to think about."

He nodded, taking another sip of his whiskey. "You don’t have to decide anything now."

She snorted. "I know. You’re letting it sit with us, right?"

Silco chuckled, amused. She was sharp, even with alcohol softening the edges of her thoughts. He liked that about her.

She leaned back, exhaling. "Zaun," she murmured, rolling the word on her tongue. "Feels... different. Feels like something real."

Silco glanced at her, studying the way she stared at her drink, thoughtful even through the haze of liquor.

"It will be real," he said, certainty laced in his tone. "Someday."

(Y/N) didn’t argue. Didn’t scoff. She just nodded, because maybe, just maybe, she could see it too.

After some time, Vander started to moved through the bar with practiced ease, cutting people off, sending the last stragglers stumbling toward the door. The place was shutting down for the night. Not that it mattered much to (Y/N) or Silco. They lived here.

Silco sat comfortably, still sipping at his whiskey, but (Y/N)… She had gone quiet.

Her second drink sat half-finished in front of her, her gaze fixed on the worn wood of the bar. The alcohol had softened her edges, but instead of making her talkative, it had drawn her inward.

She was thinking.

Silco knew that look.

(Y/N) didn’t talk much about her past- not beyond the bare bones of it. They all knew about her magic, but her mother? Her life before coming to the Undercity? That was a locked door she never let them open.

Instead, she lit another cigarette, the flicker of flame briefly illuminating her face before she inhaled, filling her lungs with smoke and whiskey, pushing everything else down.

Silco watched her for a moment before breaking the silence.

"Heavy thoughts?"

(Y/N) exhaled, the smoke curling toward the ceiling. "Always."

He hummed, tilting his glass. "Anything worth sharing?"

She smirked, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. "Not tonight."

That was how it always was, so Silco didn’t push.

He just poured himself another drink and stayed beside her, letting the ghosts settle in around them.

Ember in the Dark pt.2

Young!Silco x Fem!Reader

pt.1 - pt.3

Warnings: Violence, Themes of survival, Themes of secrecy and trust., Trauma, and Emotional distess.

Word Count: 2281

Summary: (Y/N) reveals her long-hidden magic to Silco, who, instead of reacting with fear, warns her of the danger if others find out. As they return to their hideout, she struggles with whether to tell Vander and Felicia. Silco advises secrecy, reminding her that once shared, it’s no longer just hers. Before she can decide, an unexpected visitor arrives- Vander and Felicia, worried about her disappearance. Their concern turns to frustration, prompting (Y/N) to make a choice. She reveals her magic, summoning a flicker of golden light. Stunned, Felicia reacts with shock and exasperation, while Vander, though concerned, reassures her that she’s still one of them. Despite their initial frustration, they accept her, and the tension eases.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

(Y/N)’s hand was still in Silco’s as he helped her up, steady despite the grime and damp clinging to her skin. For a second, she just stood there, forcing herself to breathe, to push down the tremors in her limbs.

She had to decide.

She could tell him.

The thought sent a sick kind of fear curling in her gut. For years, she had fought to keep it hidden. She had watched her mother waste away under the weight of survival, all while whispering the same warning over and over: Never let them see. Never let them know.

But Silco had seen something. Maybe he didn’t know exactly what, but she could feel his eyes on her, sharp and calculating even as they started walking back toward Vander and Felicia.

If she told him now, if she trusted him, would he keep it?

Or would he look at her like she was something other?

"You're quiet," Silco muttered as they weaved through the labyrinth of rusted pipes and narrow alleys. "Not like you."

(Y/N) huffed, pulling her cloak tighter around her shoulders. "Almost got caught by enforcers. Guess I’m not in a talking mood."

Silco gave her a sidelong glance. "You weren’t just running from them."

Her throat went dry.

She kept her expression even, but she could feel him watching her. The way he always did when he was picking someone apart, digging beneath the surface until he found the weak spot.

She should lie.

She should.

Instead, she stopped walking.

Silco took a few steps before realizing she wasn’t following. He turned, brow furrowing as she clenched and unclenched her fists at her sides.

"(Y/N)," he said, slower now, careful.

Her chest ached. Say nothing. Swallow it down. Keep it buried.

But she was tired of swallowing it down.

"I have to tell you something," she blurted before she could stop herself.

Silco’s expression didn’t change, but she saw the way he straightened slightly, the way his hands twitched as if bracing for a fight. "Alright," he said, voice measured.

(Y/N)’s heart slammed against her ribs. This was it.

She glanced around, making sure no one was nearby, then took a slow breath.

Her fingers twitched.

And then, with a hesitant, controlled motion, she let the smallest flicker of golden light spark between them.

The glow barely lasted a second, just a tiny crackle of warmth between her fingertips, like the dying ember of a flame.

But Silco saw.

His whole body went rigid.

The silence between them stretched, thick and suffocating.

(Y/N) clenched her jaw, forcing herself to meet his gaze. If he ran- if he flinched- she would bolt and never look back.

But Silco didn’t flinch.

He just stared, something unreadable flickering behind his sharp, dark eyes.

"You’ve been hiding that this whole time," he said at last, his voice disturbingly calm.

(Y/N) swallowed hard. "Yeah."

A long, tense pause.

Then-

"Smart," he murmured.

She blinked. "What?"

Silco tilted his head, watching her like he was seeing something new, something dangerous. "If people knew, you’d be dead."

She exhaled sharply, some part of her unraveling at the words. "I know."

Silco’s gaze didn’t waver. "Does Vander know?"

She shook her head. "Just you."

His lips twitched slightly, not quite a smirk, but something close. "And you trust me with it?"

"Wouldn't have shown you if I didn’t."

Silco was quiet for a moment, eyes flickering with something she couldn’t quite name. Then, to her surprise, he let out a short breath of laughter.

"Well, shit," he muttered, rubbing a hand down his face. "That explains a lot."

(Y/N) frowned. "You’re… not freaking out?"

He looked at her, something sharp in his expression. "Oh, I am," he admitted. "But not because of what you can do." His voice lowered. "Because if the wrong people see, we won’t just be running from Enforcers next time."

(Y/N)’s stomach twisted.

Silco sighed and ran a hand through his dark hair. "Vander and Felicia are still looking for you. We need to go back before they start tearing up the whole damn city."

She hesitated. "And… you’re not going to tell them?"

Silco met her eyes, something dangerous curling at the edges of his smirk. "Your secret, your choice."

(Y/N) felt her chest tighten.

She had always expected fear. Hatred…

But Silco…

Silco just looked at her like she was a puzzle he had finally solved.

Like she was someone important.

Something powerful.

"Come on," he said, turning back toward the hideout. "Wouldn’t want Vander to cry over you."

(Y/N) snorted despite herself. "Yeah, right."

She followed him.

And for the first time in years, she wasn’t running.

The walk back was quieter than (Y/N) expected.

Silco didn’t push her to talk. He didn’t ask questions, didn’t prod at the weight sitting heavy on her chest. He just kept walking, hands tucked into his pockets, his sharp eyes flicking toward her every so often like he was keeping tally of her breaths, making sure she didn’t disappear again.

She should have felt relieved.

Instead, her stomach twisted tighter with every step.

She had told Silco.

The words still rattled in her skull, the image of that tiny spark of magic dancing between her fingers burned into her mind. For years, she had kept it buried so deep it felt like a second skin, an instinct as natural as breathing. But now-

Now, he knew.

And soon, she’d have to decide if Vander and Felicia would too.

The old hideout came into view- a crumbling, half-abandoned space wedged between rusted pipes and makeshift walls of scrap metal. It wasn’t much, just a shelter against the chaos of the Undercity, but it was theirs. A place where they could breathe, even if the air was thick with smog and secrets.

Silco pushed open the creaky door and stepped inside, the dim glow of a stolen lantern casting shadows across the room. (Y/N) hesitated in the doorway, her fingers tightening around the frayed edge of her cloak.

"You coming in, or you planning to stand there all night?" Silco asked, throwing himself onto one of the old crates they used as seats.

She rolled her eyes but stepped inside, kicking the door shut behind her.

The space was eerily quiet without Vander’s gruff voice or Felicia’s sharp, teasing remarks. Their absence made the place feel hollow, like a ribcage missing its heart.

(Y/N) paced.

Sat down.

Got back up again.

Silco watched her, an amused tilt to his expression. "You’re overthinking."

"Shut up," she muttered, dragging a hand through her hair.

Silco didn’t argue. Just leaned back, stretching his legs out in front of him. "You don’t have to tell them," he said after a beat.

(Y/N) froze mid-step. "What?"

"You heard me." He tilted his head, studying her with that sharp, calculating gaze. "It’s your secret. No one else’s."

Her throat tightened. "But if they find out later-"

"They’ll be pissed," Silco finished bluntly. "But that’s a problem for later, isn’t it?"

(Y/N) clenched her jaw. She hated that he was right.

She should tell them. They were family- or as close to it as anyone could get in the Lanes. Vander, with his stupid protective instincts and his too-big heart. Felicia, who could cut with words as easily as with a blade, but always made sure they had food, even if it meant going hungry herself.

She trusted them.

Didn’t she?

"Would you?" she asked suddenly, turning to face Silco.

He raised a brow. "Would I what?"

"Tell them. If you were me."

Silco considered that for a moment, his expression unreadable. Then, he smirked, lazy and sharp. "I would take it to my grave."

(Y/N) groaned, flopping onto a crate beside him. "That’s so helpful, thanks."

Silco shrugged. "I’m just saying. People don’t react well to things they don’t understand. You already know that."

She did.

Gods, she did.

Her fingers curled into her palms.

"Vander’s not like that," she murmured, more to herself than to him.

Silco hummed. "Maybe. Maybe not." He tapped his fingers against his knee. "But once you tell someone a secret, it’s not just yours anymore."

The words settled deep in her ribs, heavy and true.

She hated that.

The handle of the door rattled before she could respond. Silco had locked it when they came inside…

Both of them stiffened.

(Y/N)’s breath caught as she shot a look at Silco. His expression shifted instantly, the easy amusement fading into something sharp and ready.

Then-

"Oi, you in there?"

Vander’s voice, rough and edged with something tight- worry.

(Y/N) exhaled, her pulse still hammering in her throat.

Silco smirked, rolling his eyes. "Took them long enough."

Felicia’s voice cut in, laced with irritation. "If she’s not in there, I swear, I’m-"

(Y/N) pulled the door open before she could finish.

Vander and Felicia stood on the threshold, their expressions a mix of frustration, relief, and exhaustion.

Felicia’s narrowed eyes swept over her. "You little shit-"

(Y/N) barely had time to brace before Felicia yanked her into a tight, bone-crushing hug.

"You scared us," she muttered into (Y/N)’s shoulder, her grip fierce, like she was making sure she was real.

(Y/N) swallowed against the lump in her throat. "Sorry," she mumbled.

Vander crossed his arms, his gaze flicking between her and Silco. "What happened?"

The question lingered in the air, waiting.

(Y/N) felt Silco’s presence beside her, silent but steady.

This was it.

Tell them. Keep it secret. Trust them. Keep them safe.

Her fingers twitched.

She took a breath-

And made her choice.

(Y/N) stepped aside, letting Vander and Felicia into the hideout. Her stomach churned as she shut the door behind them, sealing herself in with the weight of what she was about to do.

Felicia flopped onto a crate with a dramatic sigh, arms crossed tightly over her chest. "Do you have any idea how much time we wasted looking for your ass?" she grumbled. "Vander was ready to bust down half the city."

Vander didn’t deny it. He just gave (Y/N) a long, searching look before sitting down himself. "You alright?"

That was Vander. Not scolding her. Not demanding an explanation right away. Just… asking.

(Y/N) swallowed, nodding stiffly. She wasn’t alright, not really. But she was here. And she had made her choice.

Silco leaned against the wall, arms crossed, watching but not interfering. It was her secret to tell. He’d already said as much.

(Y/N) clenched her hands into fists, then forced herself to relax. Just do it. Before you lose your nerve.

"I need to tell you something," she said, voice tight. "And before I do, I just- I need you to listen. Just listen. Don’t freak out."

Felicia narrowed her eyes. "That’s a terrible way to start a conversation."

Vander frowned. "(Y/N), what’s going on?"

(Y/N) took a deep breath, before raising her hands, steady despite the tremor in her fingers.

A spark of golden light flickered to life. Small, hesitant, barely enough to illuminate the dim space. It crackled like embers, dancing across her fingertips, warm and alive.

The room felt too quiet.

Felicia stiffened. Vander’s eyes widened, his lips parting slightly, but he said nothing.

(Y/N) forced herself to meet their gazes.

"I have magic," she said, barely above a whisper. "I’ve always had it. I just- I never told you because I couldn’t. Because it’s dangerous. Because-" Her throat tightened. "Because I was scared."

The silence stretched.

Felicia blinked. "What the fuck?"

Vander exhaled sharply, rubbing a hand down his face. "Shit."

(Y/N)’s stomach plummeted.

Felicia stood, staring at her like she was seeing her for the first time. "Magic," she repeated, slower this time, like she was still trying to process it. "You’re telling me you’ve had magic this whole time?"

(Y/N) nodded, bracing for the worst. For them to pull away. For them to tell her she wasn’t one of them.

Vander sighed heavily, but his expression wasn’t anger. Just… concern. "How long?"

"Since before I came here," she admitted. "Since I was born."

Felicia let out a sharp breath, raking a hand through her hair. "I don’t- shit, (Y/N), do you know what could’ve happened if someone else found out?"

"Yes," She snapped, frustration bubbling over. "Of course I know. Why do you think I kept it secret?"

Felicia opened her mouth, then shut it again, jaw tightening.

Vander rubbed his temples. "And Silco knew?"

(Y/N) hesitated, but Silco answered for her, his voice calm. "She told me first."

Felicia turned on him, eyes flashing. "And you didn’t think to tell us?"

Silco shrugged, utterly unbothered. "Not my secret."

Felicia made a strangled noise, but Vander put a hand on her shoulder before she could start yelling properly.

"Alright," Vander said, his voice steady in the way that made people listen. "Alright. We… we’ll figure this out." He looked at (Y/N) again, his gaze softer this time. "But you should’ve told us sooner."

(Y/N) swallowed hard. "I know."

Vander sighed, then did something she didn’t expect.

He reached out and put a hand on her head, ruffling her hair the way he always did when he was trying to be reassuring.

"We’re not gonna turn on you, (Y/N)," he said, quiet but firm. "You’re still one of us."

Her throat tightened painfully.

Felicia groaned, throwing herself back onto the crate with a dramatic flop. "Gods, I hate that I’m not mad at you."

(Y/N) let out a breath that was half a laugh, half relief. "Yeah?"

Felicia shot her a glare. "Yeah. Asshole."

Silco smirked from his spot against the wall. "That went better than expected."

...Felicia flipped him off...

Ember in the Dark pt.1

Young!Silco x Fem!Reader

pt.2

Warnings: War, Violence, Death, illness, Grief, Poverty, Persecution, Oppression, and Child neglect/orphanhood.

Word Count: 2914

Summary: Nayesa, a refugee from Ionia, flees to the Undercity with her infant daughter to escape Noxian forces, suppressing her magic to survive. She toils endlessly to keep her child safe, but when the girl unknowingly uses magic, Nayesa realizes their past will always haunt them. She works herself to death, leaving her daughter alone in the unforgiving streets. Forced to survive, the girl joins a group of orphans- Vander, Silco, and Felicia- learning to steal, fight, and conceal her powers.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The putrid scent of burning wood and flesh clung to the air as Nayesa ran, her breath ragged, her muscles screaming for respite. Behind her, the once-pristine forests of Ionia were choked with smoke, their vibrant greens now painted in the sickly fire glow. The rhythmic clang of Noxian steel against Ionian blades still rang in her ears, but she dared not turn back.

Her infant whimpered softly in her arms, her tiny fingers clutching at the fabric of her tattered robes. She adjusted her grip, pressing the baby closer to her chest, shielding her from the cold wind sweeping in from the coast. She couldn't cry- she mustn't cry. If the Noxians heard them, if they saw the faint shimmer of magic that still crackled beneath her fingertips, they would be hunted down.

She had seen it before. A woman who tried to fight back, her magic searing through Noxian armor- only for the warbands to descend upon her like beasts, silencing her screams beneath iron and blood. She had turned away, biting back her own fear, and fled. Magic is a death sentence. That was the one lesson Ionia’s war had taught her.

The boats at the shore were barely visible through the thickening fog. She stumbled onto the dock, her heart hammering as she found an old ferryman willing to take her. He was a man of few words, his face lined with the hardship of someone who had smuggled too many refugees, but his hand was steady as he took her trembling coin. No questions asked. She clutched her daughter tighter as the boat rocked, her gaze fixed on the horizon where The Undercity- dark, industrial, and suffocating- waited.

It was not home. It never would be. But it was safe.

The Undercity embraced the lost, the forsaken, and those with secrets to keep. Here, in the slums where even Piltovan Enforcers feared to tread, they could disappear. She learned to hide in the shadows, to suppress the flicker of magic in her blood, to live as just another nameless refugee in a city built on the bones of the forgotten.

Her baby would grow up not knowing Ionia’s forests, not hearing the songs of the wind dancing through cherry blossoms. But she would live. And for now, that was enough…

Nayesa’s fingers tightened around the threadbare cloak wrapped around her daughter, her mind drifting as the boat rocked gently beneath them. The salt-laden air of the ocean mixed with the acrid scent of smoke still clinging to her skin was a cruel reminder of what she had left behind.

Ionia was gone to her now. The home where she once played among the cherry blossoms, where the rivers whispered songs of old, where the spirits still danced in the wind- lost. She forced herself not to think of the faces she would never see again, the family she had abandoned to the fire and steel of Noxus. Guilt gnawed at the edges of her thoughts, but she buried it deep. She had no choice.

The ferryman, silent as the grave, guided the vessel through the thickening mist. His hands, calloused and cracked from years of toil, moved with mechanical precision as he adjusted the sail. Nayesa knew better than to speak- men like him survived by knowing nothing, saying nothing. Still, when his gaze briefly flickered to the bundle in her arms, there was no malice there, only understanding.

She exhaled, glancing down at her child. Small, fragile, yet warm against her chest. A spark of life amid the ashes of war. She traced a gentle hand over the baby’s cheek, whispering a promise she had no idea how to keep.

By the time they reached the docks, night had swallowed the sky. The towering, rust-streaked structures loomed overhead, their smog-drenched exteriors casting jagged shadows against the dim glow of neon signs. The scent of oil, metal, and damp earth thickened the air, an oppressive contrast to the crisp mountain breezes of Ionia.

She stepped off the boat, her legs weak from exhaustion, and nearly collapsed. The ferryman caught her arm- only for a second before slipping away into the murk, his presence vanishing as quickly as it had come.

Nayesa pulled the hood of her cloak low, blending into the throngs of workers, refugees, and outcasts that moved like restless phantoms through the lower districts. No one spared her a glance. In The Undercity, survival meant minding your own business.

The slums welcomed her with the cold indifference of a city built on desperation. She found shelter in a crumbling tenement, a place where the air was thick with the scent of rust and mildew, where the walls groaned under the weight of their decay. But it was a place to rest, to breathe.

Days blurred into weeks, then months. She worked where she could- scrubbing factory floors, mending torn garments, selling whatever scraps she could barter. She spoke little, kept her head down, and made sure no one saw the shimmer of power that still lived beneath her skin.

Her daughter, whom she named (Y/N), grew into the shadows of the Lanes. She never knew the wind-chimes of Ionia, never saw the blossoms bloom in spring, never ran through the open fields where the spirits once roamed. Instead, she learned the rhythm of the Undercity- the hiss of steam vents, the distant hum of chem-tech engines, the quiet desperation in every hushed conversation.

She would watch her at night, curled up in the dim glow of a flickering light, and wonder what kind of life she had truly given her.

Safe. But at what cost?

One evening, as Nayesa walked home through the winding alleys, she heard a sound that froze her blood.

Laughter.

A child’s laughter, light and unburdened, echoed through the filth and grime of the Undercity’s streets.

She turned the corner and saw (Y/N), no longer a baby but a bright-eyed child, her tiny hands outstretched as small, golden sparks danced at her fingertips. A wonder, a gift- one that could get them both killed.

Nayesa’s heart pounded.

Magic is a death sentence.

The war may have been left behind, but its lessons had not.

She rushed forward, scooping (Y/N) into her arms, extinguishing the light with a whispered hush.

No one could see. No one could know.

She had sacrificed everything for her daughter’s safety.

And now, the Undercity would demand its own price.

It was a city that took as much as it gave, swallowing the desperate and forgotten whole. Nayesa had always known it would come for her too, sooner or later.

For seven years, she scraped by in the underbelly of the city, enduring the choking smog, the filth-ridden streets, and the cold that seeped into her bones. She endured it all for (Y/N). Every coin she earned, every sleepless night, every bruise from the fists of those who thought a refugee woman was an easy target- it was all for her daughter.

(Y/N) was bright and full of wonder despite the bleak world around her. She didn’t remember the war, the flames that consumed their home, or the screams that once haunted Nayesa’s nights. To her, Ionia was nothing more than stories murmured in hushed tones, tales of Magic and rivers that whispered secrets to those who listened. Nayesa never told her the full truth of their exile, only that they had left because it was too dangerous to stay.

But the real danger wasn’t behind them- it was here, in the Lanes, lurking in the shadows, waiting.

Nayesa had felt the sickness creeping into her body long before she admitted it to herself. The air in the lower districts was thick with toxins, a slow, creeping poison that gnawed at her lungs. Every cough was deeper, wetter. Every breath was a struggle. There were chem-doctors in the Lanes who could cure anything- for a price. But Nayesa had no money for miracles.

She worked until she couldn’t stand. Then, she worked more.

She didn’t tell (Y/N). She couldn’t.

But children saw more than adults ever gave them credit for.

"Momma, why are you always so tired?" (Y/N) asked one night, her small fingers tracing the lines of her mother’s weathered hands.

Nayesa smiled, brushing a stray lock of soft hair from her daughter’s face. "Because I have the best little girl in the world to take care of," she said, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "And that’s worth everything."

But love alone wasn’t enough to keep her alive.

One morning, Nayesa didn’t wake up.

(Y/N) shook her at first, small hands gripping the worn fabric of her mother’s cloak. "Momma?" she whispered, her voice uncertain, scared.

She didn’t move.

The room was cold. The single candle by the bedside had long since burned out, leaving only the distant glow of the Undercity’s ever-present green smog filtering through the cracks in the walls.

(Y/N) curled up beside her mother, waiting for her to wake up. She didn’t understand. Not yet.

It wasn’t until hours later, when the gnawing ache of hunger set in, that the truth began to sink in.

Her mother wasn’t waking up.

She was alone.

No one in the Lanes cared about another dead refugee. There were no mourning bells, no neighbors offering condolences. By nightfall, scavengers would come, rifling through their tiny home for anything of value.

(Y/N) didn't wait for them.

She packed what little she could- her mother’s old cloak, a handful of stolen ration bars, a rusty knife too dull to be a real weapon- and ran.

The streets of the Undercity were not kind to the weak.

She learned quickly. How to steal without being seen. How to disappear when Enforcers patrolled too close. How to navigate the tangled maze of pipes, vents, and back alleys that served as the lifeblood of the Undercity.

She was small, fast, invisible. And she was hungry.

The first time she stole from a chem merchant’s stall, she was caught. A rough hand yanked her back, slamming her against a wall.

"Little rat," the man snarled, his breath reeking of grease and sour alcohol. "Think you can take from me?"

(Y/n) trembled, her fingers curling instinctively. A warmth flickered in her palms, tiny sparks of golden light dancing between her fingers.

Magic.

No. No, no, no.

She clenched her fists, forcing it down, burying it deep. Her mother’s warning echoed in her mind.

Magic is a death sentence.

She braced herself for the beating- but it never came.

Instead, another voice cut through the heavy air.

"Let her go."

A boy, older than her, stood in the shadows of the alley. His arms were crossed, his clothes patched and dirt-streaked, but his gaze was sharp, calculating. His black hair covered his eyes a bit, too short to tie back, too long to look completely neat. "She’s with us."

The merchant sneered but let her go with a shove. "Keep your rats on a leash…" he spat before stalking off.

(Y/N) coughed, her ribs aching, but she turned to the boy, confused. "I’m not with you…" she said, wary.

"You are now," he replied simply.

And just like that, (Y/N) found herself among the lost children of the Lanes- the orphans, the runaways, the ones who had no homes… Vander, Silco, and Felicia… They moved like ghosts through the city, stealing to survive, hiding in the forgotten corners where the Enforcers wouldn’t dare to tread.

(Y/N) learned their ways. How to fight, how to climb, how to read the shifting tides of the city’s underworld. But most importantly, how to keep her secret.

She never used her magic. Not once.

Not until the day she had no choice.

It happened during a heist gone wrong- when she was fourteen...

They had planned everything perfectly- distract the shopkeeper, grab the goods, and slip away before anyone noticed. But no plan ever survived the chaos of The Undercity.

The Enforcers came down on them fast, too fast. (Y/N) ran, her breath sharp in her chest, her feet pounding against metal grates and uneven cobblestone. She took a wrong turn- a dead end.

The Enforcers were closing in.

She panicked.

A flicker of warmth ignited in her palm. Then a spark. Then a flame.

Golden light flared to life, illuminating the alleyway in brilliant, searing heat. The Enforcers reeled back, blinded, startled.

And (Y/N) ran.

She ran until her legs gave out, until she collapsed in a forgotten corner of the city, her heart slamming against her ribs.

She had been careful. She had hidden it for years… But now they would come for her. In The Undercity, secrets never stayed hidden for long…

For seven years, she had hidden what she was. Buried it beneath bruised knuckles and nimble fingers, beneath the hunger and the cold, beneath the fight to survive. But now, the secret she had fought to keep was out. Maybe not fully- but it was a crack, and cracks always widened.

The others would know soon enough.

She couldn’t go back. Not yet. Not with the heat still on her.

So, she disappeared into the veins of the Undercity, into the places where the air stank of rot and rust, where even Enforcers hesitated to follow. The tunnels beneath the city were a maze- only those born to the Lanes could navigate them, and (Y/N) had lived here long enough to know every passage, every broken grate, every hidden crawlspace.

She found a hollow space beneath a collapsed structure and curled into it, pressing her back against the damp stone, pulling her knees to her chest. She needed to think. To plan.

But plans meant nothing when Silco was the one sent to find you. Silco moved through the Undercity like a shadow, his sharp eyes scanning every alley, every abandoned structure. He knew how to track a runaway. They all did; life had made them that way.

Felicia had been worried, of course. "She’s been gone too long," she had muttered, arms crossed, trying to mask her concern. "What if the Enforcers-"

"She’s fine," Vander had cut in, though his frown betrayed his doubts. "She’s one of us."

And Silco? He hadn’t said much. He had only grabbed a knife and set out.

(Y/N) was fast. Smart. She knew how to disappear.

But he knew her.

He knew the places she went when she wanted to be alone, the paths she took when she needed to breathe. And more than that- he knew fear.

He had seen it in her when they ran from the heist, when the Enforcers had almost caught them. But there was something else, something deeper in the way she had looked at them before she fled.

Not fear of getting caught.

Fear of being seen.

It gnawed at him as he moved through the city, picking his way through the forgotten tunnels. If she was hurt, if someone else had found her first-

No. He pushed the thought away. He would find her.

The search had fractured them into three silent battalions. Felicia, driven by equal parts concern and duty, combed through the labyrinthine upper corridors where the stale, clinging mist of decay blurred every step. Vander took a divergent route, his methodical pace revealing an unspoken determination as he retraced familiar paths that had once served as escape routes. And then there was Silco- moving like a whisper among the ruins, his focus as sharp as the blade he carried.

In the winding gloom beneath a collapsed structure, Silco’s calculated steps slowed as a fragile form emerged from the darkness.

She was curled up beneath a collapsed structure, half-hidden in the darkness, her body taut with exhaustion. She looked smaller like this, the rough edge she carried worn down by fear and fatigue.

For a moment, he just watched her.

"You gonna come out," he finally said, his voice calm, "or do I have to drag you?"

(Y/N)’s head snapped up, her eyes sharp and alert despite her exhaustion. She hesitated, her muscles coiled like a cornered animal.

"You alone?" she asked, her voice hoarse.

Silco scoffed. "No, I brought a whole damn parade." He stepped forward, crouching slightly so she wouldn’t bolt. "What the hell happened back there, (Y/N)?"

She swallowed, shifting uncomfortably. "We got sloppy."

"Not what I meant." His gaze didn’t waver. "You ran like they were hunting you."

(Y/N) flinched, just slightly, but Silco caught it.

For a long time, neither of them spoke.

Finally, she exhaled, looking away. "I just… I can’t go back yet."

Silco tilted his head, studying her. "Why?"

She bit her lip, hesitating.

Because I have magic. Because I lost control. Because if you knew, you’d never look at me the same way again.

But she couldn’t say that.

So instead, she forced a smirk, weak but convincing. "Didn’t feel like dealing with Vander’s lectures."

Silco snorted, rolling his eyes. "Yeah, well, you’re gonna hear them anyway. So get up."

She didn’t move.

Silco’s smirk faded. He leaned closer, lowering his voice. "You don’t have to tell me, you know. But whatever’s got you scared?" He straightened up, eyes dark. "Don’t let it turn you into prey."

(Y/N) looked at him then, something unspoken passing between them.

Silco had always been sharp, always seeing things others missed. Maybe he didn’t know the truth yet. But he knew something.

And that was dangerous.

Still, she took his outstretched hand...