Latest Posts by deliciousspecimen - Page 2

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.

YAYYY thanks for Kyoko/Celeste/Toko request it was awesome (the inclusion of Jack caught me off guard since I personally don't find her attractive but idm!!! /Gen I should've been more specific whoopsie haha!) very well written, I enjoyed it alot!

Ps. Unfortunately an infamous ableist, homophobic, fatphobic (amongst other awful things) user liked that post :( if you wanted to block them or not M/ommy/hon/da (without the slashes, they search their name up for people talking about them hence the censoring

Oh, my bad about the Jack inclusion! I hope it was okay nonetheless! And yes, I noticed that user, and I already promptly blocked them :}

Thank you for the warning. If you have any more requests, feel free to make them. I'll try to keep it strictly to the characters asked from now on. I consider Jack/Toko sorta the same person (or ya know, two people sharing the same body), which is the only reason why I added them lmao.

[Request]

HH x TOH AU

This one is with Amity and Angel bonding with each other after they both find out that they have similar experiences with abuse.

(WARNING: Mentions of Self Harm, Suicide, both Physical & Psychological Abuse.)

A/N: @beastkeeper91, I love writing for fandom crossovers, so I love how many I've been getting :}

Trust Fall Trauma pt.2

pt.1

Sinner!Amity Blight x Hazbin Hotel.

Warnings: Mentions of Self Harm, Suicide, Physical/Psychological Abuse, Toxic parent-child relationships, Trauma responses, Mild language.

Word Count: 1377

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

It started, as many things at the Hotel did, with chaos.

“WHO put glitter in the toaster?!” Vaggie shrieked from the kitchen, holding up the crime scene with righteous fury.

“That would be me,” Angel Dust said proudly, sipping something fizzy and definitely not Charlie-approved. “I was experimenting.”

“With what? Arson?” Vaggie snapped.

Angel winked. “Domestic sparkle.”

In the corner, Amity bit back a snort. She was draped lazily across the bean bag she’d claimed during the last “team-building” activity (A.K.A the hostage decorating session). A book was open on her lap, mostly ignored.

Charlie breezed in, arms full of new flyers for her “Soulful Sundays” program, handing them out like cursed coupons.

“Angel, Amity- go put these up around town, please!”

“What am I, your poster boy?” Angel asked, examining one with his face doodled onto the logo. “Wait… actually, this is kind of cute. Look at my lashes.”

Amity rolled her eyes but stood. “I swear, if I get stabbed doing this again, I’m charging something next time.”

They were out the door five minutes later, squabbling lightly as they walked through the dim streets of Pentagram City.

“I still don’t get why I have to help,” Amity muttered, clutching her roll of posters.

“Because you have claws and you’re scary and people won’t mess with us?” Angel offered. “And because you secretly like us.”

She snorted. “Keep dreaming, spider.”

They wandered for a while, stapling posters to demon poles and charmingly decrepit walls, dodging the occasional mugging in progress. Eventually, they found themselves on the roof of a low building overlooking the twisted skyline.

Amity sat on the edge, feet dangling. Angel joined her, legs crossed delicately, cigarette in hand. For a while, they just watched the city breathe.

It was surprisingly… peaceful.

“Hey,” Angel said after a beat, glancing at the stripes on her arms. “You always had those?”

Amity tensed, glancing down.

The markings were faint, like natural fur patterns. But they weren’t. Not really... Not to her.

“Yeah,” she said quietly. “I've had them since I got to hell… Had them before too, but uh… They weren't exactly just marks at that time.”

Angel didn't push. He just nodded, taking a drag.

“I got scars, too,” he said after a minute. “...Val made sure of that.”

Amity looked at him sideways. There was something raw in his voice, despite the lightness he tried to fake. The cracks showed through if you knew where to look.

“My mom,” she said slowly, “Didn’t even care that I was hurting myself when she found out. She used to say the pain meant I was being shaped into something ‘worthy.’ That I’d thank her someday…”

Angel scoffed. “Let me guess. You didn’t.”

“I bled out on the floor of my bedroom when I was sixteen,” Amity said flatly. “So, no. I didn’t.”

Silence.

Angel took another drag, then offered the cigarette to her.

To no one's surprise, she declined it.

“Val told me I was nothing without him,” Angel said, voice softer now. “Just a pretty face with a hole to fill. Said I was lucky he kept me.”

“He sounds like Odalia,” Amity muttered, watching the smoke curl up from the cigarette Angel was smoking, into the deep red sky. “Except she preferred emotional evisceration. Less mess.”

“You ever try to fight back?”

“Once,” she said. “Got locked in my closet for a week.”

Angel winced.

They sat there, two ghosts with matching bruises in different shapes, saying nothing for a while.

Eventually, Amity spoke again.

“You ever wonder why the scars aren’t here, but the damage still is?”

“All the time,” Angel said. “I think Hell takes the pain and turns it into something you gotta wear. Like a suit. Or a warning.”

Amity looked down at her arms. The fur shimmered faintly under the lights of Hell.

“Maybe it’s not a punishment,” she said. “Maybe it’s a reminder. That we went through it...”

Angel looked at her then, really looked. The kid who called Charlie "Mom" by accident. The tough girl with the sharp wit and the too-tired eyes.

“You’re alright, Blight,” he said, tapping ashes into the void. “Kinda messed up, but in a way I respect.”

“You too, Angel,” she replied. “Spider freak.”

He grinned. “Trauma twins?”

She held up a fist.

He bumped it.

Eventually, Angel's cigarette burned down, and the chill of the rooftop crept in- not that Hell had real seasons, but the air still found ways to bite… Even with the heat.

Amity stretched, tail flicking lazily behind her. “We should finish the job before Charlie has a meltdown and starts handing out redemption-themed stickers again.”

“God forbid,” Angel groaned. “Last time I found one on my ass.”

They hopped down, finishing their poster rounds with minimal incident- aside from one demon who tried to flirt with Angel and got a mouthful of claws courtesy of Amity’s quick temper.

“Damn, girl,” Angel whistled as they walked away. “Remind me not to piss you off.”

“Good,” she said. “I was gonna put that on a business card.”

By the time they got back to the hotel, the front lobby was quiet, lit only by the warm golden glow of Charlie’s favorite chandelier and the soft flicker of whatever infernal candles Alastor insisted on lighting. The chaotic noise of earlier had faded. For once, things were… calm.

They stood in the doorway for a second. Neither of them moved.

“You ever get that thing,” Angel said, voice oddly gentle, “where you walk back into a place, and it feels like home, but your brain’s still waiting for the other shoe to drop?”

Amity nodded slowly. “All the time.”

They entered together. Quietly. Like if they talked too loud, the spell might break.

Charlie was curled up on a couch in the lounge, half-asleep with a book open across her chest and her hair messed up a bit.

Angel grinned. “Sunshine passed out mid-sentence.”

Amity smiled faintly, something warm flickering behind her ribs. “She does that.”

They didn’t wake her. Just set the last few posters on the coffee table and sank into the nearby beanbags- Angel flopping like he was melting, Amity perching with the caution of a cat ready to bolt.

“You think she really means it?” Amity asked suddenly. “All this redemption stuff?”

“Charlie?” Angel leaned back, arms behind his head. “Yeah. She's nuts, but she means it. I’ve never seen someone try so hard to love everyone. It’s kinda annoying, honestly.”

Amity smirked. “She’s nice to me…”

“She's nice to everyone, but... Yeah, pretty sure she has an extra soft spot for you,” Angel teased. “Especially after the whole 'Mom' thing.”

Amity gave him a half-hearted glare, then sighed. “I didn’t mean to say it.”

“Sure,” he said. “But you felt it.”

She didn’t answer.

Instead, she pulled her knees up to her chest and rested her chin there, eyes tracing the edge of the chandelier above.

“I used to imagine what it would feel like,” she murmured. “To have someone who didn’t hurt me. Someone who stayed. But after a while, it just… felt stupid. Like fairy tales for broken kids.”

Angel was quiet.

Then, softly, “I used to fake voices when I was little. Pretend someone was reading to me at night. Said goodnight. Said I was safe.”

Amity looked at him. “You've never told anyone that, have you?”

“Nope,” he said. “You’re just special.”

She rolled her eyes, but it lacked heat.

A long moment passed. Then she asked:

“What does healing even look like for people like us?”

Angel thought about it.

“Not running,” he said finally. “Not hiding. Laughing more. Flinching less. Waking up and not feeling like the worst version of yourself.”

Amity nodded, quiet. “That sounds… impossible.”

He smiled sadly. “Yeah. But Charlie thinks we can get there. And I guess…” He nudged her foot with his own. “If I’ve gotta stumble toward healing with anyone, I don’t mind if it’s you and the rest of these idiots...”

She didn’t say anything.

But she didn’t pull away either.

Instead, she leaned back into the beanbag and let herself breathe. For the first time in longer than she could remember, Amity didn’t feel like she had to earn the right to just exist…

ITS SO CRISP!!! I want the art book so baddddddd 🥺

Digital Artbook was released in Japan so I found some HD Silco concepts on twitter and upscaled them to an even higher quality

Is there a chance, and this is a crack one-shot, do one of Amity Blight accidently calling Charlie Mom? Its setting takes place during episode 3 of Season 1 with the trust exercises.

Also for an idea, instead of Amity being a witch she can be a Cat Sinner who died in the mid 1980s at 16. Just to make it a bit angsty along with some Odalia bashing.

A/N: LOLOL Sure, @beastkeeper91!!! Its a bit shorter than my normal works, but I figured that was okay, because It was only a silly little crack one-shot.

Trust Fall Trauma pt.1

pt.2

Sinner!Amity Blight x Hazbin Hotel.

Warnings: Toxic parent-child relationships, Trauma responses, Mild language.

Word Count: 1159

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

Charlie sighed, adjusting her clipboard as she rallied her little chaotic crew into the lobby.

“Alright!” she beamed with unnatural optimism. “Today’s team-building exercise is about trust!”

Groans erupted.

Charlie clapped. “It’s called a trust fall. One person falls back, the other catches them. Easy!”

That was when Amity Blight, one of the Hotel’s newer residents, felt her fur bristle.

She crossed her arms, tail flicking sharply. “That sounds like something invented by a corporate psychopath.”

“Exactly!” Charlie chirped. “Now partner up!”

It took some aggressive pairing (and a minor explosion), but soon everyone was reluctantly lined up. Amity ended up with Charlie.

Which… wasn’t terrible. Charlie was weirdly kind for someone born of literal Hell royalty. And she hadn’t yelled at Amity once, unlike what she was used to.

Charlie smiled softly. “You ready?”

“No,” Amity deadpanned. “But fine. Let’s get this over with.”

She turned, arms stiff at her sides, muttering, “If you drop me, I’m going to claw your face off.”

Charlie just laughed. “I got you, I promise.”

Amity hesitated for a moment. Then she let herself fall.

And Charlie caught her.

Effortlessly. Gently. Like she did this every day.

And something inside Amity broke.

A quiet, aching little thing she’d buried decades ago.

Her mouth opened before her brain could stop it.

“…Thanks, Mom.”

Silence.

Angel Dust howled with laughter.

Alastor raised an eyebrow.

Vaggie’s jaw hit the floor.

Charlie blinked. “Wait- did you just-?”

Amity’s ears flattened instantly, her face going crimson. “NO. NOPE. I- That wasn’t- Shut up-”

“Oh my-,” Angel wheezed. “She called Charlie Mom.”

“I am flattered,” Charlie said, cheeks pink.

“I hate all of you,” Amity growled, fur puffed up to max embarrassment mode.

She stormed off to the hallway, heart pounding like a jackhammer.

Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.

She hadn’t called anyone “Mom” since she was alive. And even then- Odalia Blight didn’t count. That woman had been more CEO than mother.

She still remembered the “trust exercises” her mother used to do.

“Trust me, Amity. You’ll be grateful for this training someday.” “Trust me, darling, this pain is for your own good.”

She'd rather rot in Hell (which, technically, she was doing) than ever call Odalia "Mom" again.

But Charlie? Charlie, with her sunshine-and-rainbows smile and the way she caught Amity without hesitation? That moment cracked something fragile wide open.

She leaned against the wall, breathing hard, tail twitching with frustration and… something like grief.

“Hey.”

Charlie’s voice was soft as she walked up, keeping a gentle distance.

“I didn’t mean to embarrass you.”

Amity didn't look at her. “It’s fine. I just… glitched.”

“Everyone has glitches,” Charlie said. “I think that was really brave.”

Amity snorted. “Yeah, well. Don’t get used to it.”

Charlie smiled sadly. “I know what it’s like. To have a mom who doesn’t… feel like a mom.”

That made Amity freeze.

“I just want you to know,” Charlie added, “you’re safe here. No trust fall required.”

And for the first time in a long time, Amity felt something warm bloom behind her ribs.

“Thanks,” she said, quieter this time.

And then:

“But if you ever tell anyone about this, I do have claws.”

Charlie just laughed. “Your secret’s safe with me… kiddo.”

Amity groaned, facepalming. “Don’t push it.”

For the next three days, Amity Blight perfected the ancient art of Avoidance.

She mastered it with the elegance of a cat slipping under a door and the speed of a bat outta Hell.

If anyone walked into a room- she left it.

If Angel Dust started teasing her- she vanished.

If Alastor smiled at her too long- she bolted like someone had lit her tail on fire.

But Charlie?

Somehow, Charlie was the only one Amity didn’t avoid.

Which only made things worse- because now everyone noticed.

Vaggie caught on first.

She cornered Charlie in the kitchen over a burned pot of… Something..? It looked inedible.

“She keeps orbiting you,” Vaggie said, stirring aggressively. “Like a traumatized raccoon. With trust issues.”

Charlie blinked. “She’s just… figuring things out.”

“Yeah, figuring out how to run away like it’s a track meet,” Vaggie muttered.

“She’s trying.”

“She called you Mom, Charlie.”

Charlie smiled faintly. “Yeah. I know.”

Vaggie gave her a look. “Are you okay with that?”

Charlie didn’t answer right away. Then she softly said, “I think she needs someone who doesn’t hurt her just for existing.”

Vaggie’s expression softened. She took over the stirring for Charlie, doing it a little… Less violently than she would have normally.

“Alright. Then we pull her in.”

Charlie tilted her head. “What, like… a redemption intervention?”

Vaggie grinned. “More like forced bonding.”

Amity was tiptoeing down the hallway, tail low, ears back, perfect stealth mode activated-

“AMITY!”

She yelped. Practically jumped out of her own fur.

Charlie was there, all sunshine and way-too-much-energy-for-Hell. Vaggie stood beside her, arms crossed, looking suspiciously like someone who'd just baited a trap.

“Come with us,” Charlie said cheerfully.

Amity narrowed her eyes. “Why?”

“No reason!” Charlie lied terribly. “Just… hanging out.”

“Team-building,” Vaggie added. “Again.”

Amity took a slow, suspicious step back. “Is this another trust fall? Because if so, I swear-”

“Nope,” Charlie beamed. “Today’s activity is… redecorating!”

“Decorating?”

“The hotel,” Charlie said brightly. “You live here now. You should make it feel like home.”

Amity looked between the two of them, eyes narrowing.

“…this is a trap.”

“Obviously,” Vaggie said, grabbing her arm.

They ended up in one of the guest lounges, with buckets of paint, mismatched furniture, and an actual beanbag throne Angel Dust had labeled “KING SHIT ONLY.”

Charlie handed Amity a brush. “You pick the color.”

Amity blinked. “What?”

“This room’s yours to redecorate. Do whatever you want.”

Amity hesitated.

This didn’t feel like a punishment. Or a manipulation. Or one of those “trust me, darling” moments Odalia used to weaponize.

It felt… safe. Real. Like her opinion mattered.

“…Purple,” she muttered. “Midnight violet.”

Charlie grinned. “Classy. I like it.”

As they worked- paint splattering, Angel popping in to offer unhelpful interior design advice (“Have you considered GLITTER VOMIT?”)- Amity started to loosen up.

Just a little.

By the end of the day, the room looked… More her. And Amity felt like maybe- maybe- she didn’t have to hide in the shadows forever.

Later that night, after everyone else drifted off to their chaos or beds, Amity lingered in the lounge, curled in a beanbag with a book she'd found in a forgotten corner.

Charlie poked her head in.

“Hey,” she said. “Can I come in?”

Amity nodded without looking up. “Sure, Mom.”

Silence.

She froze.

Charlie blinked.

“…again?” Vaggie called from the hallway.

“IT WAS A SLIP!” Amity shouted, ears flattening, eyes wide.

But Charlie just smiled, soft and warm. “It’s okay. I really don’t mind.”

“…You should. It’s weird.”

“I think,” Charlie said gently, “it means I’m doing something right.”

Amity looked away, swallowing hard.

She didn’t say thank you. She didn’t cry. But she didn’t run either…

If you're willing do you mind doing that last prompt you did (the one with Mahiru and Kaede, also fuck that Hina guy wtf) but with Kyoko, Celeste and Toko? I really enjoy subby readers and my gay heart is screaming ♥️

A/N: Absolutely! I tried to make it more subby, I hope this is what you wanted :} Also, yeah, I agree. That guy was super fucking weird. Hopefully, it won't be a problem anymore, though.

Journey into Intimacy pt.2

pt.1

Smut Headcanons for Kyoko, Celeste, and Toko (plus Genocide Jack).

18+ MDNI

Warnings: Sexual Content/Intimacy, Light Dom/Sub Dynamics, First times, Split Personality (?)

Word Count: 2098

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

Kyoko:

- The Talk Comes First: Kyoko doesn’t act without knowing the full picture. She’ll sit beside (Y/N), voice calm and soothing, hands gently folded in her lap. “Are you sure you’re ready?” she’ll ask- not to test her, but to assure her she’s not going anywhere if she’s not. The detective always makes sure the emotional groundwork is solid before taking any step forward.

- Subtle Nervousness: She seems composed, but the truth is in the little things: how her fingers linger longer than usual, how she hesitates before speaking, how her eyes flick to (Y/N)’s lips then away again. It’s not fear- it’s hope. Quiet, careful hope that (Y/N) will want this just as much as she does.

- Soft, Private Setting: Kyoko prepares everything in advance: the room is clean, the sheets are freshly changed, the lights are low and warm. Maybe there’s a playlist in the background- instrumental, minimal vocals. She creates an atmosphere that wraps around (Y/N) like a protective spell.

- Guided Reassurance: She reads (Y/N)’s every reaction like she’s solving a case. If her breath catches or her fingers twitch, she slows. “Is this okay?” she murmurs. “We stop the moment you say so.” There is no judgment in her voice, only care.

- Uncharacteristically Soft Words: When the walls fall, they fall completely. “You’re beautiful,” she whispers against (Y/N)’s skin. “I’ve never trusted anyone this much.” Her words are rare gems, only shared when they matter most- raw and real in a way that Kyoko doesn’t allow herself to be often.

- Taking Her Time: She savors every kiss, every brush of skin. Her touches are slow, almost reverent, like she's memorizing the love of her life. She’s not rushing to an end- she’s exploring, mapping, learning. Her pace says ‘you matter to me’.

- Detective Instincts… for Love: If (Y/N) tenses, if her voice falters, if her expression shifts even slightly- she knows. She adjusts instantly. “We don’t have to go further. We can just be here.” Kyoko is attentive in a way that feels like she’s holding your soul in her hands.

- She Makes It About (Y/N): This isn’t about her. Kyoko pays attention to (Y/N)’s sighs, her shivers, her breath. She adapts to what she needs, and finds joy in giving her pleasure- not just physically, but emotionally. She’s endlessly patient, giving without asking for anything back.

- Detective-Level Focus: The way (Y/N)’s back arches? Noted. The little gasp when she kisses a certain spot? Locked in. She pieces it together like evidence, each detail helping her uncover exactly how to make her unravel.

- Hands First, Always Controlled: Kyoko’s fingers are her most precise tools- slender, confident, and deliberate. Even with gloves, she’s devastatingly effective. She doesn’t rush, she doesn’t falter. “I want to feel you come undone for me,” she murmurs, and she does.

- Kisses Between Commands: While her fingers do the work, her mouth follows: trailing kisses down (Y/N)’s neck, teeth nipping her collarbone, lips warm and firm. Her voice is low: “Don’t run. Let it happen.” She grounds her with both command and comfort.

- If She Uses Her Mouth… (Y/N)’s Doomed: Kyoko between her thighs is a study in devotion. She licks with purpose, pressure, and slow-building heat. Her hands keeps (Y/N) open, her eyes locked on hers. Every look says, ‘don’t look away from me’. And (Y/N) can't.

- She Talks (Y/N) Through It: “You’re close.” “That’s it, stay with me.” “I want you to let go.” Her voice alone is enough to push her over. She speaks in that even, warm tone (Y/N) trusts more than anything.

- Body Language Queen: When (Y/N) starts trembling, she grounds her. “Breathe. I’ve got you,” she whispers, and she does. She’s right there, adjusting her pace, never leaving her to ride it out alone. She breaks her down just to hold her through it.

- Finishing: When (Y/N) finally falls apart, she catches every piece. Shes in her arms before she can even think. “You did so well,” she murmurs against her temple. “I’m here. I’ve got you.” Her embrace is firm, warm, and unshakable.

- Gentle Aftercare: Warm water, soft clothes, slow fingers brushing through (Y/N)’s hair- Kyoko takes care of her like it’s second nature. Not for show, not for reward, but because (Y/N)’s hers, and that means everything. She wipes her down, tucks her into bed, kisses her wrist or her knuckles. The silence is not awkward- it’s safe. It’s filled with everything she can’t say aloud yet.

- Protective Instincts: She doesn’t move far. Her arm stays around (Y/N)’s waist, her forehead rests against hers, and she whispers, “I’m proud of you.” Even in sleep, she keeps her close, like she’s guarding something precious.

- And Later, When (Y/N)’s Ready: Kyoko brings it up again, gently. “How did that feel for you?” she asks, genuinely curious. She’s not looking for praise- she’s looking to learn, to understand, to grow. “Tell me everything. I want to know you.”

- A New Level of Bond: Afterwards, something in her softens permanently. She reaches for (Y/N)’s hand more in public, touches her back when she’s nervous, sits a little closer when she’s quiet. Her gestures stay small but deeply meaningful.

Celeste:

- Velvet Patience: Celeste is unnervingly calm, even in the most delicate situations. Her voice is a steady lull, her touch a whisper. She picks up on every nervous glance, every stuttered breath, and treats it not as hesitation- but as precious vulnerability to be cherished, not rushed.

- Curated Intimacy: Every moment is an event to Celeste. She crafts the room like a stage deep crimson sheets, flickering candlelight, the warm scent of roses and cinnamon tea. It's a soft fantasy she’s prepared just for (Y/N)- a world where tension melts away.

- Gentle Consent: Before anything begins, she cups (Y/N)’s cheek and asks, “Are you certain, my dear?” Her tone is so gentle, it borders on reverent. Consent, to her, is sacred. One “stop,” and she’ll halt without hesitation, offering warmth and cuddles instead.

- Experience Without Arrogance: Though she’s clearly confident and well-versed, Celeste never flaunts it. She leads with grace, not dominance. Her touches are exploratory, not possessive. She lets (Y/N) guide the pace, only stepping in to soothe or steady with tender encouragement.

- Laughter in Lace: If things go clumsy, she doesn’t blink. She just smiles, maybe chuckles, and says something like, “Perfection is dull, darling. I much prefer sincerity.” It eases the moment, makes (Y/N) feel seen and safe.

- Emotional First, Physical Second: For Celeste, intimacy without emotional resonance is meaningless. She watches (Y/N)’s face more than anything, whispering things like, “You’re doing beautifully,” or, “You have no idea how radiant you are when you trust me.”

- Slow, Intentional Control: Celeste doesn’t rush pleasure. She draws it out like a skilled gambler playing the long game. Her voice drops, sultry and steady: “Relax, mon amour. I know exactly how to make you tremble.” She plays (Y/N) like a prized deck of cards- every shuffle intentional.

- Bare Devotion: She begins with her hands- every movement is slow, studied, circular. One hand soothes while the other teases. If (Y/N) starts to shake, she holds her steady, whispering praise like silk over skin.

- Sweet Words, Wicked Edges: Celeste’s mouth is poetic even in passion. “You’re already this wet? How delightful…” Her tone stays elegant, teasing, yet never crude. She relishes how (Y/N) blushes, coaxing out gasps with every breathy murmur.

- Worship with Her Mouth: Between (Y/N)’s thighs, Celeste becomes reverent- like a queen worshiping a goddess. She alternates pressure and tempo with the finesse of a maestro. Occasionally, she pauses just to listen to the whimper she elicits, then resumes with a devilish glint in her eyes.

- Gentle Restraint: When things peak, Celeste adds pressure with a steady hand on (Y/N)’s hips. If she tries to squirm away or close her legs, Celeste parts them again, whispering, “No hiding, mon trésor. Let me see all of you.”

- Intuitive as a Card Shark: She reads (Y/N)’s reactions like a pro- breath catches, legs tense, voice cracks. Her every move is adjusted in response, keeping (Y/N) right at the edge until she knows- now. Only then does she let her fall.

- Hidden Softness: Only (Y/N) sees her like this- bare-voiced and slightly trembling when she says, “Thank you… for trusting me with something so precious.” It’s the rare crack in her otherwise theatrical façade, and it makes (Y/N) fall even harder.

- That First Finish- Her True Victory: The moment (Y/N) comes undone, Celeste doesn’t let go immediately. She eases her down slowly, lips softening, drawing out every last tremble. Her reward isn’t the climax itself- it’s the broken, blissful trust in (Y/N)’s voice afterward.

- Post-Climax Bliss: Afterward, Celeste is all silk and silence. She brings tea, tucks (Y/N) into bed, and curls around her like a shield. Her parting whisper? “You did beautifully… I hope I was unforgettable.” (Y/N) clings to her, dazed, and Celeste’s smile lingers in the dark.

- Aftercare Royalty: She doesn’t just do aftercare- she elevates it. Warm tea, gentle cleaning, luxurious sleepwear, and the softest embrace. (Y/N) gets to lie on her chest, feeling her fingertips move slowly through her hair as she whispers, “You are safe. You are adored.”

Toko (plus Jack):

- Nervous to the Core: The moment intimacy even approaches the conversation, Toko’s stammering like her life depends on it. “I-I-I- this is m-m-moving so fast! W-We haven’t even talked about lighting conditions!!”

- Hopeless Romantic: Her ideal “first time” is something out of a tragic Victorian novel- faint candlelight, whispered poetry, trembling confessions. She would kill for rose petals.

- Check-in Queen: “A-Are you okay? Did that hurt? I-I can stop- no really, just say the word!!” She checks in every ten seconds, desperate to get things “right.”

- Overheats Instantly: Compliment her? She short-circuits. “You’re so gentle, Toko.” - Cue wide-eyed stare, open mouth, and total emotional collapse.

- Tactile Panic, But Devotion: Touching (Y/N)? Terrifying. But she still does it, hands shaking, because she wants to. She takes her time, watching her reactions like she's memorizing scripture.

- Sacred Kisses: Every kiss is given with shaking lips and reverence. Like she’s afraid she’ll break the moment if she breathes too hard.

- Miracle Complex: When (Y/N) moans? She looks like she’s seen God. “I-I did that? You… because of me?” It's part pride, part panic, part euphoria. “I n-never thought anyone would… want me… Like that.”

- Taking the Stage-: When things get too intense for Toko- sneeze, slice, cackle- Jack’s on deck with that wild grin- “Well helloooo, lover~”

- Confidence on Fire: Where Toko panics, Jack thrives. She's flirty, bold, and loves teasing (Y/N) just to watch her squirm. Even so, shes weirdly considerate? She knows when to reel it in. If (Y/N)’s nervous, she dials it back (still grinning, of course). “Don’t cry on me now, babe. You’re doing sooo good~”

- Romance, But Make It Unhinged: Kisses (Y/N)’s knuckles while whispering, “You're the only one who makes me wanna play nice.” And she means it.

- Tongue Game- Dangerous: She’s filthy. Loud, wet, teasing- moaning like she’s the one getting off from tasting (Y/N). “Damn, sweetheart, you taste like sin~”

- Edge Queen: She loves dragging it out, edging until (Y/N)’s thighs tremble and she’s breathless. All while praising and taunting in equal measure.

- Orgasm Hunter: When she knows (Y/N)’s close, she gets feral. Eyes wild, tongue relentless, chasing her climax like it’s prey.

- Takes Care Afterwards (Sorta): Gently kisses (Y/N)s thighs, helps her clean up… while making a very inappropriate joke. “Can’t break my toy on the first playdate~”

- Balance of Soft and Savage: Toko builds the emotional intensity, Jack brings the fire. (Y/N) learns which version she wants depending on her mood. Toko starts it, slow and shaky. Jack finishes it, wild and ruthless. Tag-team of the century.

- Loving Navigation: (Y/N) learns how to hold Toko through the panic and keep Jack from going full menace. It's a labor of love- beautiful, weird, messy. Despite all the madness, both parts of Toko genuinely want to love and worship (Y/N)… they just express it very differently.

Drifting Between Worlds pt.2

Hunter x Fem!Reader

pt.1

Warnings: Emotional Abuse/Psychological Manipulation, Panic Attack/Anxiety, Helplessness/Powerlessness, Capital Punishment, Gaslighting.

Word Count: 5579

Summary: After a quiet moment, (Y/N) tends to Hunter’s scar, showing the deep bond they’ve built over two years of protecting each other. That night, Hunter has a panic attack from memories of Belos’s abuse, and (Y/N) comforts him. Their peace ends with a summons from Belos. Hunter is promoted to Golden Guard, and (Y/N) becomes his Onyx- his personal shadow. Framed as a reward, it’s clearly a way to control them. Their mission: observe Lilith’s attempt to capture Eda and monitor a human girl named Luz. During a student tour, (Y/N) notices Luz sneaking off and convinces Hunter to follow instead of reporting her. They witness Lilith capture Luz. Eda storms the castle to save her, losing her magic in the process and getting captured. Kiki announces her public petrification, leaving (Y/N) and Hunter silently preparing to witness the execution- torn between duty and conscience.

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

After their little moment, (Y/N) finally pulled her hand away from Hunter’s face, letting the warmth of her touch settle before shifting gears.

“Alright, Blondie,” she murmured, standing up. “Let’s get that scar taken care of before it starts bothering you.”

Hunter sighed, tilting his head back slightly. “The healer already did what she could.”

“Yeah, well, I’m doing the rest.” She crossed her arms, raising an eyebrow. “Unless you want it to linger.”

Hunter rolled his eyes but didn’t argue.

(Y/N) walked over to the small wooden shelf near their beds, where she kept a few things she had put together over the years- small remedies, basic salves, things she had learned to mix from trial and error, using ingredients she recognized were similar to ones she had in the Human Realm.

She grabbed a small container, then sat back down beside Hunter.

“Hold still,” she muttered.

He huffed but complied, letting her tilt his head slightly to the side so she could work.

The scar was still fresh, the skin bruised and sensitive. Her fingers were steady as she scooped a bit of the ointment onto her fingertips, rubbing it between them to warm it slightly before gently pressing it along the wound.

Hunter tensed at first but didn’t pull away.

“This should help keep it from getting too irritated,” she murmured, focused on her work. “Might help with the scarring too. No promises, though. You might just have to get used to being even more dashing.”

Hunter let out a breath that was almost a chuckle.

She carefully wrapped the bandages around his neck and jaw, making sure they weren’t too tight. When she was satisfied, she tied them off, brushing her hands against her pants as she sat back.

“There.” She smirked. “Good as new. Well... Mostly.”

Hunter lifted a hand, brushing his fingers along the bandage. “…Thanks.”

(Y/N) just shrugged. “Anytime.”

And she meant it.

The weight of the day lingered as (Y/N) and Hunter moved around their room, slipping into their usual nighttime routines. It was almost second nature now- after two years of sharing a space, they had fallen into a rhythm, a quiet understanding of how to exist around each other.

They had made deals early on, back when they first got assigned the same quarters, to avoid unnecessary arguments.

One of the first was changing.

(Y/N), being who she was, had quickly realized that Hunter was the type to get flustered over things like that. And since she wasn’t about to have either of them dealing with awkwardness on a daily basis, she had made a solution.

A makeshift divider.

It wasn’t fancy- just a simple wooden frame she had thrown together with cloth draped over it- but it worked. One side for her, one side for him.

She had always liked making things. Little tools, useful items, balms, salves- things that kept her hands busy, things that kept her mind busy.

It gave her something to control in a world that often felt completely out of her control.

Hunter, for his part, had never complained. He was practical like that.

(Y/N) stepped behind the divider first, tugging her scout uniform off and slipping into something more comfortable- a loose-fitting black shirt and soft pants, simple but effective.

When she finished, she called over. “Alright, Blondie. All yours.”

Hunter let out a quiet breath, stepping past her to take his turn. (Y/N) ran a hand through her hair, sitting cross-legged on her bed, idly tracing the mark on her wrist.

The sigil still felt like nothing to her.

No pain. No restriction.

Belos had wanted to brand her, control her the way he did witches, but it had never worked the way he intended.

She never let on how much that bothered her- she just shook the thought away.

Hunter emerged from behind the divider, dressed in his own sleepwear- a simple tunic and loose pants, nothing out of the ordinary. He ran a hand through his blond hair, sighing as he sat on his bed.

They didn’t talk much after that.

They didn’t need to.

Some nights, after long missions or hard days, they just… existed in the same space, letting the silence settle in.

It was a comfortable kind of quiet.

(Y/N) leaned back against her pillows, watching as Hunter pulled the blanket over himself.

“Get some sleep, Blondie,” she murmured, her voice softer than usual.

Hunter let out a small huff. “Yeah. You too.”

She closed her eyes, her gem humming faintly as she finally let herself relax.

(Y/N) had just started to drift off when Hunter’s voice cut through the quiet, barely more than a whisper.

“Do you think he hates me?”

Her eyes opened.

Hunter’s voice was strained, uncertain.

“Is that why he hurts me?”

(Y/N) didn’t move- she just listened.

“I’m supposed to be the only family he has left… He’s the only family I have left…” Hunter’s voice wavered. He wasn’t even talking to her anymore. He was just talking, letting his thoughts spill out into the darkness.

“I get that he wants me to be strong… that he expects a lot from me. He says the Titan has plans for me. That I’m special.”

A sharp inhale.

“…If I’m special, what’s the point in hurting me?”

(Y/N) sat up immediately.

She didn’t need her Gem’s abilities to know what was happening.

Hunter’s breaths were too quick, too shallow. His body was locked up, stiff under his blankets, his hands gripping the fabric so tightly his knuckles had gone white. His chest rose and fell in uneven, jerky motions.

Panic attack.

Did he even realize?

(Y/N) wasted no time.

She slipped out of her bed and padded across the room. As soon as she reached his bedside, Hunter tensed.

He wasn’t used to being touched when he was like this.

But (Y/N) didn’t care.

She climbed onto his bed without hesitation, slipping under the blanket beside him. She didn’t wait for permission- he wouldn’t have given it anyway. Instead, she reached out and pulled him close, her arms wrapping around him securely.

Hunter froze.

His whole body went rigid, his breath catching in his throat, but (Y/N) just tightened her grip.

“Shhh,” she murmured, her voice warm, soft.

Her gem glowed faintly, sending out the lightest, gentlest pulse of energy- not to control his emotions, not to force him to calm down, but to soothe him. To ease the raw edges, to remind his body that he was safe.

She felt him trembling, the panic still clawing at him, his mind racing in loops he couldn’t break on his own.

She ran a hand over his back, slow, steady, grounding him with touch. “Breathe with me, Hunter,” she cooed, voice low. “Just focus on me, okay?”

A shaky inhale.

A slightly steadier exhale.

Her fingers brushed through his hair, her gem pulsing softly again. “You’re not alone,” she whispered, pressing her forehead lightly against his. “I’ve got you.”

Hunter’s breath hitched.

And then, finally…

He moved.

His shaking hands hesitantly, tentatively, gripped the fabric of her sleeve. His body relaxed just slightly against hers, like he was allowing himself, for just one moment, to be held.

(Y/N) didn’t let go.

She wasn’t going anywhere… 

As (Y/N) held him close, steady and unwavering, Hunter slowly came back down from his panic. Her fingers combed through his hair, gentle and rhythmic, while her other hand rubbed slow, soothing circles against his back. His breathing was still shaky at first, but with every careful stroke, every quiet whisper of reassurance, it evened out little by little.

Hunter hesitated for a long while, his body stiff, uncertain- like he didn’t know how to accept comfort, like he was waiting for her to pull away.

But she didn’t.

She just kept holding him, humming softly under her breath, letting her gem’s faint glow fill the silence with warmth.

Eventually, after what felt like forever, he let out a breath and did something that nearly broke her heart.

He nuzzled into her shoulder.

It was hesitant, barely there, like he was testing whether or not he was allowed to.

(Y/N) didn’t say a word.

She just held him closer.

Time blurred together.

She wasn’t sure how long they stayed like that, tangled in the quiet safety of each other’s presence.

But, at some point, Hunter’s breathing evened out completely. The tension in his body melted away, his fingers loosening their grip on her sleeve.

And, finally, he slept.

(Y/N) sighed softly, resting her chin atop his head, her own exhaustion creeping in now that she knew he was okay.

She had no idea what tomorrow would bring.

But for now, in this moment, she wasn’t going anywhere.

And with that thought, she let herself drift off, still holding him close.

Morning came slowly, the soft glow of the rising sun filtering through the small cracks in their room’s curtains. The usual coldness of the Emperor’s castle didn’t seem as sharp this morning- not when warmth surrounded them.

(Y/N) stirred first, her mind sluggish as she registered the unfamiliar but comfortable weight against her.

Hunter.

They were still tangled together, arms wrapped around each other, legs slightly overlapping. At some point in the night, they had curled closer, holding onto each other in their sleep without even realizing it.

It was the best sleep (Y/N) had gotten since arriving in the Boiling Isles.

And for Hunter… maybe the best sleep he had ever had.

For a moment, she didn’t move. She just lay there, letting the quiet settle, feeling how calm everything was.

But then, Hunter shifted, his breathing changing slightly as he woke.

She could feel the exact moment he realized what had happened.

His whole body went rigid.

(Y/N) smirked before even opening her eyes.

A sharp inhale. A stiffening of shoulders. And then-

A soft, strangled noise of pure mortification.

She cracked one eye open to see him completely frozen, his magenta eyes wide and filled with panic. His face was already turning a deep shade of red, his ears burning as he registered the fact that they were still holding onto each other.

(Y/N) raised an eyebrow, her voice still thick with sleep.

“…Morning, Blondie.”

Hunter flinched.

His brain seemed to shut down for a second before he made a choked, stammering attempt at a response.

“I- uh- what- this- WHY-”

(Y/N) couldn’t help it. She laughed.

“Relax,” she teased, stretching slightly but making no effort to move away. “We just fell asleep. No big deal.”

Hunter opened his mouth, closed it, then covered his face with both hands, groaning. “This is a big deal!”

(Y/N) grinned. “Oh? Why?”

Hunter made a noise.

(Y/N) just shrugged, patting his back lazily. “Hey, at least you slept well.”

That made him pause.

He lowered his hands slightly, blinking at her.

“…Yeah,” he admitted after a long beat, his voice quieter. “I did.”

(Y/N) softened, her teasing smirk fading into something more genuine. “Me too.”

Hunter looked away, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. “W-We should probably… um… get up.”

(Y/N) hummed, still smirking. “You sure? You seem pretty comfy.”

Hunter let out an exasperated groan, shoving his pillow over his face.

(Y/N) just laughed, finally rolling off the bed and stretching with a satisfied sigh.

Yep.

Best sleep she’d had in years.

(Y/N) and Hunter moved through their usual morning routine, getting dressed in their scout uniforms. Despite the way the morning had started- warm, soft, and not entirely unpleasant- they both settled back into their usual rhythm.

Hunter, as always, was methodical about getting ready. Every strap adjusted, every piece of armor aligned perfectly. (Y/N), on the other hand, was a little more relaxed, rolling her shoulders as she buckled her gloves into place.

But before they could leave their room, a sharp knock echoed through the wooden door.

(Y/N) shot Hunter a look before striding over and pulling the door open.

A scout stood at attention, their mask in place, stiff and formal. "You are both requested in the throne room. Immediately."

Hunter straightened beside her, his shoulders tightening. (Y/N) just exhaled through her nose, giving the scout a mock salute. "Oh joy. More quality time with our beloved Emperor."

The scout didn't react, simply stepping aside to let them pass.

The throne room was as cold and imposing as ever.

Belos sat on his high throne, draped in white, his golden mask revealing nothing, like usual. The moment they entered, both Hunter and (Y/N) immediately dropped to one knee- though (Y/N) did so with just a little less enthusiasm.

Belos didn’t acknowledge them right away, letting the weight of his presence settle before finally speaking.

"I have gathered you here because new information has come to my attention."

Hunter remained stiff, his expression unreadable beneath his mask. (Y/N), on the other hand, kept her face neutral but felt the tension radiating off of him.

Belos continued.

"I have confirmed the existence of the human girl. She resides in Bonesborough, under the watch of The Owl Lady."

(Y/N) swallowed hard. There it is.

She knew Belos would find out sooner or later, but hearing him say it made her gut twist.

"As you are aware," Belos said smoothly, "I had sent Lilith to retrieve Eda."

(Y/N)'s mind raced. Lilith Clawthorne. Head of the Emperor's Coven. Eda's sister.

But Belos’s next words sent a cold chill through her spine.

"She has been... lacking."

Hunter’s fingers twitched at his sides.

Belos’s voice remained calm. Too calm.

"That is why I have decided to ensure loyalty where it is most needed."

(Y/N) didn’t like where this was going.

Belos finally turned his gaze to Hunter. "You will be promoted."

Hunter stiffened. "Promoted..?"

"You will become the Golden Guard," Belos said. "A position of authority and privilege, answering only to me. You will command the scouts, oversee operations, and ensure that the Emperor’s will is carried out."

(Y/N)'s breath caught.

She knew Hunter had always strived for this- had pushed himself harder than anyone else, desperate to prove himself.

But something about this felt wrong.

Belos wasn't rewarding Hunter.

He was tightening his leash.

"And as for you," Belos said, finally turning to (Y/N). "You will be assigned as his Onyx."

(Y/N)’s stomach dropped.

The title hit her like a slap, the weight of her own identity twisted into something else.

Onyx. Her Gem, her heritage, a title meant for leaders- for warriors who protected, who stood at the front lines, not at the beck and call of some Emperor.

And yet, Belos was turning it against her.

"You will remain at the Golden Guard’s side at all times," Belos continued. "You will be his personal guard, his enforcer, his shadow. And in this, you will prove your loyalty to me."

(Y/N) felt sick.

This wasn’t a promotion.

It was a collar.

Belos didn’t trust anyone- not Lilith, not his own coven heads.

But now, with this? He was making sure that if Lilith ever did betray him, Hunter and (Y/N) wouldn’t.

Hunter was stiff beside her, but he didn’t hesitate.

He bowed lower. "I will not fail you, Emperor Belos."

(Y/N) clenched her jaw, forcing her head down as well. "Understood."

Belos’s mask gave away nothing, but his voice was smooth. Satisfied.

"You are dismissed."

(Y/N) didn’t hesitate. She turned on her heel and followed Hunter out of the throne room.

But inside?

She was seething.

As soon as Hunter and (Y/N) stepped out of the throne room, they were met by a group of scouts standing at attention. Each one held something in their hands- new uniforms.

Hunter was handed his first.

The Golden Guard uniform.

It was unlike the standard scout attire- more ornate, with a high-collared cloak, armor with gold accents, and a mask that bore the signature sharp, beak-like shape. The uniform had apparently been passed down to him, the title of the Golden Guard now officially his.

Hunter took it with careful hands, his expression unreadable.

Then the scouts turned to (Y/N).

She expected something similar- another standard scout uniform, maybe something slightly adjusted to reflect her new position.

But what they handed her?

It was different.

The fabric was sleek, sharp in design like Hunter’s new uniform, but instead of gold, it was a muted, light pink- the color of her Gem.

Her mask, too, was different.

It wasn’t in the shape of a beak or a traditional scout’s mask. It was round, smooth, completely blank aside from the cutouts for her eyes. It was an eerie thing, unsettling in its simplicity.

She turned it over in her hands, her chest tightening.

It was intentional.

Belos had designed this role for her. He had taken her identity, her Gem, and turned it into a title, something that meant she belonged to him.

He had done the same to Hunter.

The two of them weren’t just scouts anymore. They were weapons.

And they were supposed to wield each other.

(Y/N) clenched her jaw but said nothing as she took the uniform.

One of the scouts stepped forward again, handing them a scroll, sealed with the mark of the Emperor’s Coven.

Hunter took it, breaking the seal and unrolling it. His eyes scanned over the orders inside.

(Y/N) watched as his grip on the paper tightened.

“What is it?” she asked, already dreading the answer.

Hunter exhaled sharply before handing her the scroll.

(Y/N) took it and read-

New Orders: Golden Guard and Onyx. Monitor Lilith Clawthorne closely. She has been ordered to bring in her sister, the wild witch Eda Clawthorne. If she fails, she will be stripped of her title. The human girl from Bonesborough attends a local school in an attempt to become a witch. The school is set to tour the Emperor’s Coven today. Lilith is expected to keep an eye on them. You will ensure she remains loyal. You will not intervene, just report back if anything is to occur.

(Y/N)’s grip on the scroll tightened.

Belos was setting up a trap.

Lilith was running out of time to bring Eda in, and if she failed, she would be punished. And now, they were supposed to watch her, report any hesitation, and make sure she didn’t stray.

And on top of that, the human- the girl (Y/N) had just seen- was going to be in the castle today.

She and Hunter were expected to watch.

To report if things didn’t go the way Belos wanted.

(Y/N)’s stomach twisted.

Hunter swallowed, still staring at the uniform in his hands. He had worked for this moment his whole life.

But now that it was here, she could feel the weight pressing down on him.

She met his gaze.

Neither of them said it.

But they were both thinking the same thing.

How much longer can we keep doing this?

They both headed back to their room, to change, and to start their new mission… As the day went on, it had been uneventful- for the most part.

Hunter and (Y/N) had stayed close to the Hexside students, their orders clear: Watch. Observe. Report if necessary.

(Y/N) had always hated orders like that.

It meant sitting back and watching things unfold, letting the pieces fall into place without interfering. And today?

The pieces were definitely falling.

She had noticed the human girl- Luz- trying to sneak away almost immediately. She wasn’t exactly subtle, tugging on grates, looking around with a suspicious expression despite her attempt to blend in.

Two others- friends, clearly- watched her with amusement.

One was a younger boy, dressed in the blue uniform of the Illusion track. The other was a girl, taller, with cute round glasses. She wore green- Plant track.

They were definitely letting Luz do her own thing, though it was obvious they found her antics entertaining.

(Y/N) shared a glance with Hunter, who simply crossed his arms and sighed. “She’s going to get caught.”

(Y/N) smirked. “Yeah. But it’ll be fun watching her try.”

Hunter huffed but didn’t argue.

As the tour moved into the Old Magic Relic Room, (Y/N)’s interest piqued slightly.

The room was filled with magical artifacts, relics of a time long past- the Green Thumb Gauntlet, the Oracle Sphere, the Healing Hat. There were statues too, high up in the rafters behind white-gold arches, depicting the original coven leaders from when Belos first introduced the system.

(Y/N) wasn’t sure why, but something about the room made her uneasy. Maybe it was the weight of history pressing down on her, the knowledge that all of this- everything- was part of Belos’s legacy of control.

Then, she noticed Lilith heading to the Throne room.

And she wasn’t the only one who noticed.

Luz, ever curious, immediately broke from the group and followed after Lilith.

(Y/N) and Hunter exchanged another look.

Hunter exhaled sharply. “We should report this.”

(Y/N) tilted her head. “Or we could see how this plays out.”

Hunter groaned but reluctantly followed her as they tailed the students a little longer, keeping tabs on everything.

Some time passed, and eventually, Luz returned to the group.

(Y/N) noted that she looked… off. Pale. Uneasy. Like she had seen something that had shaken her to her core.

She didn’t know what, but something had definitely happened while she was gone.

Hunter leaned in slightly, whispering, “Something isn’t right.”

“Yeah, no kidding,” (Y/N) murmured.

The Hexside students started leaving soon after, but Luz stayed behind.

Hunter and (Y/N) followed from a distance, watching as Luz seemed to be setting something up. When Luz peered out the window, checking to make sure no one noticed her absence, she saw-

Herself.

(Y/N)’s eyebrows shot up.

Luz, Willow, and Gus were all leaving with the group.

Except, they weren’t.

Seconds later, Luz was tapped on the shoulder, turning to find the real Willow and Gus standing behind her.

Illusions. Smart.

Hunter raised an eyebrow. “Clever.”

(Y/N) grinned. “I like them.”

Hunter rolled his eyes.

Willow and Gus confronted Luz, holding up notes she had left unattended. As Luz tried to explain, her friends revealed that they already knew about Eda’s curse- and that they wanted to help her steal the Healing Hat.

(Y/N) let out a low whistle. “Oh, this is going to be good.”

Hunter shot her a look. “We’re not supposed to interfere.”

“I know,” (Y/N) said innocently, rocking on her heels. “I’m watching, aren’t I?”

Hunter groaned, rubbing his temples.

They watched as Luz, Willow, and Gus made their way past the guards and into the relic room, sneaking toward the Healing Hat.

For a second, it seemed like they might actually pull it off.

But then-

Lilith appeared.

(Y/N) tensed slightly, watching the scene unfold.

Lilith barely had to try- she easily overpowered Willow and Gus, sending them tumbling aside before capturing Luz in a glowing containment bubble.

And then, without hesitation-

She destroyed the Healing Hat.

(Y/N)’s smirk faded.

Luz’s expression was pure heartbreak as the hat crumbled, all of her hopes for Eda’s curse vanishing in an instant.

Lilith’s face was unreadable, but her voice was cold. "It never would’ve worked anyway."

(Y/N) could feel the moment Lilith realized what she had just been given.

A weakness. A way to exploit Eda.

Lilith ordered Willow and Gus to go to Eda- to tell her that Luz had been captured.

Hunter watched all of this with a carefully neutral expression, his posture stiff, unreadable.

(Y/N), however, exhaled slowly, crossing her arms.

She had a feeling Belos would be pleased.

And that bothered her.

The moment Eda Clawthorne stormed up the castle, magic crackling around her like a living storm, (Y/N) knew- this was unlike anything they had seen before.

Eda wasn’t just powerful.

She was furious.

Even Hunter seemed momentarily stunned as the wild witch thundered through the castle, her very presence warping the air around her. The raw force of her magic sent shockwaves through the halls, setting banners aflame and making stone crack under her feet.

She wasn’t fighting her way in.

She was announcing herself.

She had come for Luz.

And nothing was going to stop her.

(Y/N) and Hunter immediately made their way to Belos.

If Eda was this desperate, this angry, then they needed to be ready for whatever was about to happen.

When they entered the throne room, Belos was already seated, watching everything unfold through the swirling green haze of a viewing spell.

Hunter knelt immediately. “What are your orders, Emperor Belos?”

Belos didn’t turn. He watched Eda’s onslaught unfold before him, completely calm.

Then, after a long pause-

“…Stand aside.”

Hunter stiffened. “But-”

Belos tilted his head, finally looking at them.

“You will keep your roles. You will remain where you are.” His voice was smooth, measured. “But you will do nothing.”

(Y/N) narrowed her eyes. Do nothing?

Something was off.

Belos wanted this to play out.

Hunter didn’t argue further. He simply bowed his head. “Understood.”

(Y/N) clenched her fists but forced herself to nod.

They were playing a role in Belos’s game, whether they liked it or not.

The Duel Begins.

(Y/N) and Hunter watched as Eda and Lilith clashed on the castle’s high bridge, exchanging magic and insults in equal measure.

But then-

Lilith slipped.

In the middle of their heated argument, she accidentally revealed the truth.

"Then why were you so easy to curse?!"

The air went still.

Eda froze, her magic flickering for the briefest moment.

Lilith’s eyes widened- she hadn’t meant to say it.

But it was too late.

Eda snarled, her fury reigniting. The duel escalated dangerously, wild magic tearing through the castle bridge.

And then, amid the chaos-

Luz broke free.

(Y/N) tensed as Luz shattered the containment spell, landing on the bridge with wide eyes, her hands clenched into fists.

But before she could run to Eda, Lilith let out a low, cold chuckle.

“Oh, child,” she said, almost pitying. “That bubble was for your protection.”

Then, without hesitation-

She blasted Luz off the bridge.

(Y/N)’s breath caught.

Hunter flinched beside her.

Luz tumbled backward, her scream echoing as she fell toward the pit of spikes below.

(Y/N)’s body moved before she could think, a pulse of instinct from her Gem telling her to act-

But she didn’t have to.

Because Eda moved first.

With the last of her magic, Eda caught Luz, hurling her to safety.

But at a cost.

Her magic was gone.

The curse took hold instantly, her body convulsing as her form shifted, twisted, morphed.

The Owl Beast emerged.

Luz’s face was filled with pure, heartbreaking terror.

(Y/N) felt it. The shock. The devastation. The helplessness.

Eda, barely able to speak, mustered her final words to Luz.

Then-

She sent Owlbert to carry Luz away.

She saved her.

And in return?

Lilith captured her.

The Owl Beast was restrained, her massive form bound in enchanted chains. Owlbert, too, was seized.

(Y/N) and Hunter stood at a distance, watching.

Doing nothing.

Because that’s what Belos had ordered.

Lilith turned to Luz, her expression unreadable.

“Go back to your world.” Her voice was cool, final.

“This one’s ours.”

Luz’s eyes burned with tears as she was forced to leave.

(Y/N) watched silently, her stomach twisting.

Belos had won.

(Y/N) stood beside Hunter, her body stiff, her mind racing.

"Stay silent."

That was Belos’s order.

She and Hunter were to remain at his side, to be his shadows, to be present in case anything were to happen. They were not to interfere.

And then, as if nothing had happened- as if he hadn’t just watched Lilith betray her own sister, hadn’t orchestrated all of this- Belos praised them.

"You have done a wonderful job," he said smoothly, his voice warm, almost gentle.

He was playing a role, just like he always did.

And she hated that she had to play along.

Still, she dropped her head slightly, pretending to accept the words.

Hunter, beside her, absorbed them like they were air.

Belos placed a hand on Hunter’s shoulder, a sign of trust, of favoritism.

"I am proud of you, my Golden Guard," he murmured.

(Y/N) felt Hunter straighten, saw the way he lit up at those words- just for a moment- before forcing himself back into composure.

But she had felt the flash of emotion from him.

Hope. Relief.

A desperate need for approval.

(Y/N) clenched her jaw but kept quiet.

Belos turned, motioning for them to follow. “Come. We have more to attend to.”

The top floor of the palace was cold, sterile, designed for containment rather than comfort.

(Y/N) and Hunter stood still at Belos’s side as they entered the back room, where Lilith was struggling to restrain the beastly Eda Clawthorne.

The Owl Beast fought against its bindings, snarling, clawing, its massive form twitching and writhing. Lilith stood over it, clearly shaken but trying to keep control.

Belos stepped forward, raising a hand.

With a pulse of sickly green magic, Eda’s body seized, stiffened-

And then…

Her mind returned.

Eda gasped, her human consciousness restored, her beastly features retreating enough for her to think, to speak.

Belos moved closer, his golden mask unreadable.

"You have something that does not belong to you," he said smoothly, his tone almost casual.

Eda blinked, her body still weak, but her glare was unwavering. “And what’s that, Chuckles?”

Belos tilted his head slightly. “The portal door.”

(Y/N) froze.

A portal?

To the Human Realm?

Her hands clenched at her sides, her pulse spiking.

Why hadn’t he said anything before?

Hadn’t that been their deal? If he ever learned about a way home, he was supposed to tell her.

But he had kept it from her.

Because of course he did.

Her eyes flickered toward Hunter, but if he had any reaction, he wasn’t showing it.

Eda, however, laughed.

"Yeah, no. Not happening."

Belos exhaled, as if disappointed. “That is… unfortunate.”

He turned slightly, motioning toward one of the guards. “Then I will simply retrieve it myself. Take her away. She will be dealt with.”

Lilith’s face fell.

“My lord-” she started, stepping forward. “You promised-”

Belos ignored her.

Eda struggled weakly as the guards grabbed her, pulling her toward another chamber. “Hey! HEY! You slimy son of a-”

The door slammed shut.

Lilith stood frozen, eyes wide.

“B-But you said…” she whispered, looking genuinely shaken.

Belos turned his gaze toward her, his voice eerily calm. “I said she would be dealt with.”

(Y/N) watched as something in Lilith cracked.

For the first time, she seemed uncertain, like she had finally realized that her loyalty to Belos wasn’t going to be rewarded the way she had thought.

Belos held out Owlbert, the small staff twitching slightly in his grasp.

He placed it in Lilith’s hands.

“Destroy it.”

Lilith swallowed hard, gripping the staff.

She didn’t argue.

She didn’t refuse.

She just stood there, holding the staff like it was something fragile, something she didn’t want to break.

(Y/N) felt the shift.

Lilith was crumbling.

And Belos knew it.

With that final order, Belos turned and walked away, his white cloak billowing behind him.

(Y/N) and Hunter followed wordlessly, their roles clear.

Stay silent.

Do nothing.

Watch everything unfold.

(Y/N) didn’t look back.

Because if she did-

She wasn’t sure if she could keep pretending.

Neither of them spoke as they returned to their room, both lost in their own thoughts. The moment the door shut behind them, (Y/N) pulled off her mask, setting it down with a quiet thunk on the table.

Hunter did the same, rubbing a hand over his face before sitting heavily on his bed.

The air in their quarters was heavy.

(Y/N), however, wasn’t ready to just sit there.

She walked over to the small crystal ball they had gotten to share, a small luxury she had managed to get for them. It was their equivalent of a TV, the closest thing she had to anything that reminded her of home.

Flipping through the channels, she barely paid attention at first- random shows, puppet theaters, coven announcements-

Until she landed on the news report.

Her fingers froze over the controls.

The screen showed a press conference, the Emperor’s Coven symbol displayed behind the speakers.

And then-

Kikimora.

She stood at the podium, official and composed, her shrill voice sharp as she addressed the crowd.

"The Emperor’s Coven has adjudicated on the matter of the wild witch Eda Clawthorne."

(Y/N)’s stomach tightened.

Hunter, who had been half-distracted, immediately sat up straighter.

"It has been decided that her punishment will be petrification."

The words slammed into the room like a physical force.

(Y/N)’s breath hitched.

"The petrification will occur at sunset."

Silence.

Neither of them moved.

Neither of them breathed.

For a long moment, (Y/N) just stared at the screen, at the smug confidence in Kikimora’s stance, at the casual way she announced Eda’s death like it was just another day at work.

Then, without a word, she turned off the crystal ball.

Hunter was already standing.

“We should be there in person,” he said, his voice unreadable.

(Y/N) exhaled slowly. “Yeah.”

They didn’t need to discuss it.

They didn’t need to argue.

They moved quickly, retrieving their masks, adjusting their uniforms, securing their weapons.

It was a ritual at this point- getting ready, preparing for their roles.

But this time?

It felt different.

This wasn’t just another mission.

This was a death sentence.

And they were going to watch it happen.

THIS!!! THAT WEIRDO WHO THREATENED ME!!!

I posted the dm's they sent me, but beware, it's completely unhinged.

//Hey everyone! OOC speaking

Here's the accounts run by that aoi asahina creep, so you can block them and avoid interacting:

aoisitsonmyface

sweepingstarlight

bonbonpuppet

king-bon-asahina

bonbonpuppet117

glowstone-mod

aoiasahinasboyfriend

Keep in mind they could have more, so if they're still sending you asks or threats just ignore them, and if you know of any other accounts share them with me so I can add them to the list

Had to remake this post, because someone reported it for a symbol on one of the images, (that I didn't see and forgot to sensor, so fair. I respect that.) but I'm posting it again, because I feel like I absolutely need to.

To whoever this person is, I genuinely hope you get help, you freak.

I'm more than likely going to stop writing for this character, because jeez, I do not want to deal with that shit again.

TW: threats under the cut.

I knew the Danganronpa community was ick, but I guess I underestimated how foul some of the people in the community could be. At first I was like "haha, this is cringe, funny." But then the stuff he sent kept getting worse, and worse. THEN he threatened to r@pe me, like it was some fun little thing he could just throw around. As a S/A survivor myself, I think you are absolutely horrendous. You need help.

For Danganronpa, how about some Smut Headcanons for Hina, Mahiru, and Kaede helping their Female S/O to squirt for the first time!

A/N: Of course I can! This is my first time doing Headcanon's, though. I hope this is what you wanted :}

Journey into Intimacy pt.1

pt.2

Smut Headcanons for Hina, Mahiru, and Kaede.

18+ MDNI

Warnings: Sexual Content/Intimacy, Light Dom/Sub Dynamics, First times.

Word Count: 2502

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

Hina:

HAD TO CUT THIS PART BECAUSE SOMEONE LITERALLY FUCKING THREATEDNED ME!!!

Posted what happened, the link is above, but jfc some people are so mentally unwell. Who ever you are, I seriously hope you get the help you need.

Mahiru:

- The Nervous Anticipation: The air between them is different tonight. It’s not the usual playful flirting or casual kisses; it’s thick with something heavier, unspoken, but deeply understood. (Y/N) is fidgeting, her fingers messing with the hem of her shirt, while Mahiru- normally full of sarcastic remarks- finds herself uncharacteristically quiet. They both know where this is heading, but neither of them really knows how to start.

- Awkward Yet Sweet First Steps: Despite her usual confidence, Mahiru is a nervous wreck inside. She wants everything to be perfect, wants (Y/N) to feel safe and cherished, but holy hell, she’s overthinking every move. Meanwhile, (Y/N)- who has literally never done anything like this before- feels her own heartbeat pounding in her ears. Every touch, every shared glance, feels ten times more intense than usual.

- Soft, Slow Exploration: Mahiru takes the lead, but gently. Her fingers trail over (Y/N)’s arms, her waist, tracing slow patterns on her skin as she watches every little reaction. She kisses her everywhere- her cheeks, her forehead, her jaw- until (Y/N) finally lets out a shaky breath, whispering, “I want you.” That’s all it takes for Mahiru’s heart to damn near explode. 

- Mahiru’s Photographer Instinct Kicks In: As things progress, Mahiru can’t help but admire the absolute beauty of the moment. (Y/N) looks so soft, so vulnerable yet trusting, and fuck, she wants to capture this forever. She resists the urge to grab her camera, but at some point, she whispers about how breathtaking (Y/N) looks. (Y/N), flustered as hell, buries her face in Mahiru’s shoulder. 

- Consent Queens: They check in with each other constantly. “Is this okay?” “Do you like this?” It’s sweet, but at some point, (Y/N) laughs between gasps, saying, “Mahiru, if you ask me one more time, I swear to god.” Mahiru chuckles, finally letting go of her nerves a little, before focusing on making her girlfriend fall apart in the best way possible. 

- Mahiru is a Soft Dom???: Mahiru may be a nervous mess internally, but her natural assertiveness doesn’t just disappear. She instinctively takes charge, not in an overbearing way, but in a way that makes (Y/N) feel completely safe and adored. She’s super praise-heavy, whispering how beautiful (Y/N) is, how perfect she is, how much she loves seeing her like this. (Y/N), in return, melts under her touch. 

- Reaching the Peak: It happens so much faster than (Y/N) expected. She barely has time to process it before her whole body goes taut, her fingers digging into Mahiru’s shoulders as she gasps and trembles. It’s overwhelming, electrifying, and so damn intense, she almost can’t believe it’s real. Her breath catches, her back arches, and she lets out a breathless moan, completely lost in the moment. 

- Mahiru is Absolutely Mesmerized: Watching (Y/N) fall apart like this is the most stunning thing she’s ever seen. She never expected to love this side of her girlfriend so much, but fuck, knowing she’s the first person to ever make (Y/N) feel this way? That’s a feeling she never wants to lose. 

- The Immediate Aftermath: (Y/N) is still trembling, barely able to form words, so Mahiru pulls her close, cradling her against her chest. She whispers sweet nothings, pressing soft kisses against (Y/N)’s forehead, cheeks, lips. “You okay?” she murmurs, even though the answer is painfully obvious from the way (Y/N) is still clutching onto her like a lifeline. 

- Soft Aftercare is a Must: Mahiru takes care of (Y/N) afterward, running fingers through her hair, whispering soft reassurances, making sure she’s comfortable and warm. “Need water?” “Need anything?” (Y/N) pretends to protest being babied but secretly loves it. “Mahiru, you’re acting like I just ran a marathon,” she grumbles, but she’s already nuzzling into her anyway. 

- (Y/N)’s Shy Confession: After a few moments of silence, (Y/N) mumbles into Mahiru’s skin, “That was… the best thing I’ve ever felt.” She sounds so damn embarrassed, but Mahiru just grins, pressing another kiss to her temple. “Yeah?” she teases. “Glad I could be the one to show you.” (Y/N) groans, hiding her burning face in Mahiru’s shoulder. 

- Cuddles and Teasing: They stay wrapped up in each other, letting the moment linger, neither wanting to move. (Y/N), still, coming down from the high, lazily traces circles on Mahiru’s back. Eventually, she mutters, “You’re gonna be so fucking smug about this, aren’t you?” Mahiru grins, kissing her neck. “Oh, absolutely.” 

- Their Love Only Gets Stronger: Exploring each other doesn’t change their relationship- it deepens it. They were already so in love, but now there’s a whole new level of trust and closeness between them. They fall asleep wrapped in each other’s arms.

Kaede:

- High School Sweethearts with a Whole Lot of Love: Kaede and (Y/N) have been dating since high school, and from the very beginning, their relationship has been filled with warmth, laughter, and way too many flustered moments. Kaede is very much a romantic, always doing little things like writing (Y/N) piano pieces, sneaking little notes into her bag, and kissing her nose just to make her blush. (Y/N), on the other hand, acts like the smooth one, but the second Kaede even breathes in her direction with a little more affection than usual, she is absolutely doomed.

- Fleeting touches: Holding Hands? Cute. But Holding Hands Under the Covers? Illegal. Even though they’ve been together for years, they are still flustered idiots when it comes to physical affection. (Y/N) still gets butterflies whenever Kaede casually holds her hand, and Kaede still turns bright red whenever (Y/N) kisses her neck- But the moment they start cuddling under the covers, it suddenly feels ten times more intimate, and neither of them knows what the to do about it.

- The Build-Up to Something More: They’ve been thinking about taking things a step further, but neither of them wants to rush. Kaede, being the overachiever she is, researches the hell out of everything. She wants to make sure that she knows how to make (Y/N) feel good without making her uncomfortable. (Y/N), meanwhile, is excited but also lowkey terrified. She knows she wants this with Kaede, but holy hell, the thought of Kaede actually touching her like that makes her whole brain short-circuit.

- The Night Everything Changes: It starts like any other night- just the two of them in Kaede’s room, soft music playing in the background, and a little bit of cuddling… But this time? There’s a different energy in the air. Kaede gently kisses (Y/N) a little deeper, letting her fingers trail along her waist, and (Y/N) suddenly realizes, ‘Oh, we’re really doing this.’ 

- Kaede Takes the Lead (Even Though She’s Shaking Like a Leaf): At first, Kaede is nervous as hell. She’s always been confident when it comes to playing the piano or performing, but when it comes to intimacy? That’s an entirely new stage, but when she hears the way (Y/N) breathes a little heavier every time she touches her, that nervousness slowly turns into determination. Kaede realizes that she wants to be the one to make (Y/N) feel good, to be the one who helps her experience something new and beautiful.

- (Y/N) Falls Apart Instantly: The second Kaede touches her in just the right way, (Y/N) is done for. She thought she could handle it. She really did. But the way Kaede’s soft, delicate hands explore her body makes her entire soul leave her body. She tries so hard to stay quiet, but Kaede sees right through her. “Don’t hold back,” Kaede whispers against her skin, and (Y/N) immediately melts into the sheets.

- Kaede Learns She Loves Being in Control: As Kaede keeps going, she notices every little detail- the way (Y/N)’s breathing changes, the way she grips onto the sheets, the way she softly gasps her name… Something about it makes Kaede feel so… powerful. For once, she’s not just playing an instrument- she’s playing with (Y/N), and every touch, every movement, is making her girlfriend completely fall apart beneath her.

- The First Time (Y/N) Ever Reaches her High: (Y/N) has never felt anything like this before- the slow build-up, the way her body tightens, the overwhelming pleasure that finally crashes over her like a wave. When it happens, she completely forgets how to function. She’s breathless, shaking, gripping onto Kaede like she’s the only thing keeping her tethered to reality. Kaede doesn’t stop holding her for a single second, kissing her forehead, whispering soft reassurances, and just being the absolute best girlfriend in existence.

- (Y/N) Is a Flustered, Speechless Mess Afterwards: After everything, (Y/N) refuses to look Kaede in the eye. Kaede, being smug as hell, just grins and asks, “Was it good?” (Y/N) groans, hides under the blankets, and refuses to answer… But the way she pulls Kaede close and buries her face in her chest says everything Kaede needs to know.

- Morning After Shenanigans: The next morning, they are both grinning like lovesick idiots… Unfortunately, their friends immediately catch on. Shuichi squints at them over breakfast and asks, “Why are you two acting weird?” Miu, being the gremlin she is, immediately puts two and two together. “OH MY GOD, YOU TWO FINALLY FU-” “MIU, SHUT THE HELL UP!”

- A Whole New Level of Intimacy: Their relationship was always full of love, but after that night? It feels even deeper. Kaede can’t stop smiling whenever she looks at (Y/N), knowing she was her first in such a big way. (Y/N), on the other hand, gets flustered way more easily now, especially whenever Kaede touches her in public. “Oh, so now you’re nervous?” Kaede teases, nudging her. “Shut up,” (Y/N) mutters, hiding her face behind her hands.

- Exploring Even More Together: Now that they’ve taken that first step, they get more and more comfortable exploring each other. Kaede still loves teasing (Y/N) just to watch her reactions, and (Y/N) loves learning what makes Kaede weak in return. They take their time, learning and growing together, never rushing, and always making sure they’re both completely comfortable. Because at the end of the day? It’s not just about physical intimacy. It’s about trust, love, and being completely vulnerable with the person who means the most to them.

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.

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

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.

Question: Aside from fanfics, are you open to headcanon requests? If so, do you have any sort of character limit?

Hello, anon! :}

I'm open to doing headcannons, I mean, I basically insert all of my hc's into the stories I write LOL

It might take some getting used to, though! Since I'm so used to writing flowing stories.

As of right now, I don't have a character limit. But be aware, the more that is requested, the longer it might take to write. I usually write every other day, so I have days in between to draw. I'd appreciate if the characters requested are in the same fandoms, though. Unless it's something like a mix of fandoms, like my Hunter x Fem!Reader (which was a mix of TOH and SU) fic that was requested.

Just make sure any requests follow the guidelines on my masterlist, and I'd be more than willing to try!

Thank you for asking!

Hiiii!!!

I absolutely adore your Silco x reader, it's wonderful. Your writing it great 🥺 I was wondering if I could make a request? Okay, so, I love TOH, and SU, and you have both listed on your masterlist, sooooooo I was thinking maybe you could mix them?

Here's my idea, Hunter x reader, but reader is half Gem, like Steven. She somehow finds herself in the Demon realm, and ends up having to join the Coven Scouts, so she can find a way home.

A/N: Hiiii!!! Thank you so much! I can absolutely do that. I also love TOH and SU, so this is awesome. Actually, if it's okay, I'd love to make this into a new series because I had SO much fun writing it! If it's not okay, you can go ahead and send me a dm or another ask, and I won't, but I loved the idea, so I'd be more than willing to.

Drifting Between Worlds pt.1

Hunter x Fem!Reader

pt.2

Warnings: Violence/Physical Abuse, Emotional/Psychological Manipulation, Blood/Injury, Power Imbalance/Authoritarian Abuse, Themes of Control/Oppression

Word Count: 7292

Summary: (Y/N), a half-human, half-Gem, is transported to the Boiling Isles and brought to Belos by his scouts. Forced into the Emperor’s Coven, she trains alongside Hunter, growing close to him while searching for a way home. During a scouting mission, they discover Eda Clawthorne teaching a human girl- Luz. Knowing the danger of this revelation, (Y/N) hesitates to report it, but Hunter insists on following protocol. When they inform Belos, he punishes Hunter, leaving him scarred. Furious but powerless, (Y/N) helps Hunter recover and comforts him, strengthening their bond. However, witnessing Belos’s cruelty sparks (Y/N)’s growing doubts about his rule.

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(Y/N) gasped for air as she broke through the surface of the water, her heart hammering against her ribs. Her entire body ached from the force of being shot through- whatever that was. One second, she was swimming in the ocean back home, and the next, she was being hurled through some kind of portal.

She blinked, disoriented. The sky above her was a deep, unnatural purple, with swirling clouds. Strange, jagged rock formations jutted out of the landscape around her, glowing with eerie light. But the most terrifying thing? The water below her boiled.

(Y/N) barely managed to grab onto a rocky ledge before she slipped back down. Her fingers burned slightly from the heat of the steam rising off the water. Breathing heavily, she pulled herself up, rolling onto her back and staring at the alien sky.

“What the heck,” she muttered, sitting up. She took stock of herself- her bathing suit was intact, even if it wasn’t ideal for whatever situation this was. She patted her collarbone, where the smooth, light pink Onyx was embedded into her skin. At least it wasn't cracked...

She had been through weird situations before- living with Steven and the Crystal Gems meant weird was normal- but this? This was new.

(Y/N) stood, shaking out her limbs and glancing around. The terrain was wild and unfamiliar, filled with crooked trees and strange creatures flitting about in the distance. “Okay,” she said to herself, taking a deep breath. “Step one: find someone in charge. Step two: figure out where I am...”

She moved cautiously, her bare feet brushing against the rough ground. She wasn’t too worried about getting hurt- her being a Gem meant minor scrapes and cuts weren’t a problem- but she didn’t exactly want to go charging into danger.

After what felt like an eternity of wandering, (Y/N) spotted movement- a figure, in uniform, carrying some kind of spear, walking along a worn dirt path.

A guard!

Hope flared in her chest, and she ran toward them. “Hey! Hey, excuse me!”

The guard- a creature with a birdlike mask and a white cloak- whipped around, gripping their spear tighter. “Halt! Who goes there?”

(Y/N) skidded to a stop, holding up her hands. “Whoa, whoa! I don’t mean any harm. I just- I need help. I’m lost. I don’t know how I got here.”

The guard’s head tilted. “You are… human?”

(Y/N) hesitated. “Uh… half?” She tapped her Gem. “Long story. But yeah, mostly human.”

The guard stepped back. “Humans are not meant to be here.”

(Y/N) groaned. “Yeah, I figured. Look, I just need to find someone in charge- some kind of authority? Maybe they can help me figure out how to get home?”

The guard hesitated, then sighed. “You should not be here. But I cannot leave you to wander. Come with me.”

Relieved, (Y/N) followed as the guard led her down the path, her mind racing. She had no idea what world she had stumbled into, but one thing was for sure- she had a long way to go before she found her way home.

(Y/N) followed the masked guard through the bizarre landscape of the Boiling Isles, her bare feet brushing over gnarled roots, uneven stone, and patches of strange, pulsing moss. Everywhere she looked, there were creatures that seemed ripped straight from a fever dream- multi-eyed birds, chimeric beasts with too many limbs, and even a small, scampering thing that looked like a skull with legs.

She tried to keep her face neutral, but every now and then, a shudder ran through her. She had seen weird before- Homeworld’s Gems, corrupted monsters, the things that lurked in Beach City’s more supernatural corners- but this? This was something else entirely.

“Are we almost there?” she asked after what felt like forever.

The guard barely turned their head. “Patience, human.”

She huffed, crossing her arms, but kept walking. Eventually, they emerged onto a wide, towering bridge that stretched over a massive chasm, and beyond it stood an enormous structure.

The castle- or palace- was massive, carved from gleaming white stone with gold accents. Tall spires twisted toward the sky, adorned with massive banners depicting a sigil she didn’t recognize. The entire place had a looming, eerie feel, like it was meant to impress and intimidate.

The guard gestured toward it. “This is Emperor Belos’s Castle. You stand before the heart of the Emperor’s Coven.”

(Y/N) frowned. “Right. And that means…?”

The guard didn’t answer, simply leading her across the bridge.

As they entered the palace, (Y/N) got an even better look at the inside- huge corridors lined with pillars, flickering torches casting long shadows, and walls decorated with more of those same sigils. Guards in similar white masks patrolled, watching her with curiosity- or suspicion.

“Where are we going?” she asked, voice lower now.

“To the Emperor,” the guard replied.

(Y/N) blinked. “Wait, seriously? I was meaning more of like, a local with some sort of knowledge or something… Not your leader or whatever...”

“You wished to meet someone with authority,” the guard said plainly. “There is no higher authority than Emperor Belos.”

Well. That was something.

As they walked deeper into the castle, (Y/N) felt her stomach twist uneasily. She had no idea who this Belos guy was, but something about this place felt… wrong. There was a heaviness in the air, a weight that settled against her skin, making her Gem hum faintly in her chest.

Something was off.

But she had come this far. If this Emperor guy could help her get home, she had to try.

Squaring her shoulders, (Y/N) followed the guard deeper into the palace, toward whatever fate awaited her.

The grand doors to the throne room swung open with an eerie creak, revealing a vast chamber lined with towering pillars. The air was thick with the scent of something old, like parchment and candle wax, but there was an undercurrent of something… darker.

(Y/N) swallowed hard as she stepped forward, her feet hitting the cold stone floor. At the far end of the room, seated atop an imposing throne, was the man she assumed to be Emperor Belos.

His presence filled the room like an unseen weight pressing against her shoulders. He was draped in a flowing white cloak, gold accents catching the dim light, and his face was hidden behind an ornate golden mask. Even though she couldn't see his eyes, she felt his gaze settle on her.

Beside her, the masked guard immediately knelt, lowering their head in reverence.

(Y/N), on the other hand, shifted awkwardly.

Yeah...

She wasn't doing that.

Instead, she let out a nervous laugh and rocked on her heels. “Uh. Hi. I take it you're the guy in charge?”

The guard shot her a look from beneath their mask, but Belos merely tilted his head. His voice, when he spoke, was smooth- calm, but holding a distinct weight to it.

"You are… different.”

(Y/N) blinked. “Uh. Yeah, understatement of the year.” She gestured vaguely to herself. “Human. Or, well, half. Kind of got lost, ended up here. Thought maybe someone in charge could help.”

There was a long pause. The air in the room felt colder.

“Half-human…” Belos murmured, almost as if he was turning the thought over in his mind. He rested his chin on one gloved hand. “How fascinating.”

(Y/N) didn’t like the way he said that.

Her fingers twitched, and instinctively, she reached up to brush her Gem- a small, subconscious action she often did when she was nervous.

Belos’s head moved ever so slightly, like he had noticed.

“You say you arrived here by accident,” he said. “How?”

(Y/N) hesitated. “I, uh… I was swimming. In the ocean. Then, boom- portal. And next thing I know, I’m nearly getting boiled alive.” She gestured vaguely toward the door. “So, if you could help me find a way back to my world, that’d be great.”

Silence.

Belos regarded her for a long moment. Then, slowly, he rose from his throne.

(Y/N) stiffened. She was good at reading emotions- her connection to them ran deeper than most- but right now, standing in front of this man, she felt… nothing. It was like standing in front of a void.

“You wish to return home,” he said, stepping down toward her. “And yet… you are something quite rare. A human in the Demon Realm is already an anomaly. But a half-human with a power I do not yet understand? That is even more intriguing.”

(Y/N) took a step back. “Uh. Cool? I mean, I’m flattered, really, but I kinda just wanna go home.”

Belos stopped a few feet in front of her. He was tall- taller than she expected- and even though she couldn’t see his face, she felt the intensity of his gaze.

“You may yet prove useful, child.”

That set off every alarm in her brain.

“Yeahhh, see, I don’t love being called ‘useful’ by ominous masked guys in creepy castles,” (Y/N) said, forcing a grin. “So, if that’s all, I think I’ll just-”

She turned on her heel, ready to leave, but before she could take another step, a wave of green magic flickered out from Belos’s fingertips.

(Y/N) barely had time to react before the ground beneath her feet locked up, thick green tendrils snapping around her ankles like chains.

Her heart leapt into her throat.

Okay. Not good. Really not good.

Belos tilted his head. “I believe you will stay here a while longer.”

(Y/N) stood frozen, the green bindings around her ankles pulsing faintly with energy. Her mind raced, trying to figure out the best way to not be trapped in this nightmare situation, but Belos spoke before she could act.

“I have made my decision,” he said, voice calm, measured. “You will join my Coven.”

(Y/N)’s stomach dropped. “Wait, what?”

“You will receive the mark of the Emperor’s Coven,” he continued, ignoring her protests. “And you will train to become one of my Scouts. You will learn our ways, our laws, and how magic truly works in this world.”

(Y/N)’s hands clenched into fists. “Yeah, huge problem with that- I don’t do well with being told what to do.”

Belos regarded her, unmoved. “You wish to return home, do you not?”

(Y/N) hesitated.

Belos took a step closer. “There are no known portals back to the Human Realm. None that I know of.” There was something about the way he said it that made her gut twist- like maybe he did know something, and just wasn’t planning on telling her. “But if one were to be discovered…”

(Y/N)’s breath caught.

“I would decide whether or not you needed to know.”

Her fingers twitched toward her Gem, her instincts screaming at her. She could fight him, try to break free- but the room was filled with guards, and she wasn’t exactly at full strength after being thrown into this insane world.

For now, she needed to play along.

She forced her shoulders to relax and exhaled sharply through her nose. “So let me get this straight. I get branded with some magic tattoo, train to be one of your creepy bird-mask guys, and in exchange, you might help me get home?”

Belos tilted his head, as if amused. “That is the arrangement.”

(Y/N) gritted her teeth. The sigil- whatever it was- was meant for witches, right? But she wasn’t a witch. That whole system shouldn’t even apply to her. And yet, he still wanted her branded.

Something about that sat very wrong with her.

But she had no choice.

Not right now.

She forced herself to nod. “Fine.”

Belos lifted his hand, green magic curling around his fingertips. “Then we begin.”

A wave of energy surged forward, striking her wrist like searing hot ink.

(Y/N) clenched her teeth, swallowing down a hiss as the magic carved itself into her skin. The symbol of the Emperor’s Coven flared bright for a moment before settling, leaving behind an eerie, glowing mark embedded into her flesh.

She glared up at Belos, heart pounding.

"Enough of this," Belos said, his voice echoing through the throne room. His tone was final, dismissive. "The decision has been made. Send word to Hunter- she will be joining him in his room. That way, I can ensure the human is kept under watch."

(Y/N) stiffened. Hunter? That name meant nothing to her, but the idea of being shoved into some random room with a complete stranger wasn’t exactly comforting.

Belos turned his gaze toward one of the scouts. "You. Take her to her quarters."

The scout immediately bowed. "Yes, Emperor Belos. It would be my pleasure."

(Y/N) scowled but kept her mouth shut as the scout gestured for her to follow. As much as she wanted to argue, to push back, she knew she had no leverage here. Not yet.

The golden sigil on her wrist still tingled uncomfortably as she was led through the castles halls. The deeper they went, the more she realized just how massive this place was. There were halls lined with banners of the Emperor’s sigil, corridors guarded by silent scouts in their eerie masks, and doors leading to rooms she probably didn’t want to know the purpose of.

She kept her arms crossed over her chest, partly from irritation, partly because she was still just wearing a bathing suit.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, they arrived at a set of large wooden doors. The scout opened one, stepping aside.

"This will be your room," the scout said. "You’ll be sharing it with the Emperor’s nephew, Hunter. He’s also training to become a scout. You’ll receive your uniforms and off-duty clothing shortly."

(Y/N) arched an eyebrow. "The Emperor’s nephew?"

The scout gave a stiff nod. "He is young, but skilled. The Emperor believes it best that he keeps an eye on you."

Of course he does… (Y/N) sighed, rubbing the bridge of her nose. "Great. He's on babysitting duty."

The scout didn’t respond- just motioned for her to step inside.

(Y/N) hesitated before entering. The room wasn’t terrible, but it was nothing fancy either. Two small beds sat on opposite sides of the space, both neatly made. There was a single wardrobe, a desk against the far wall, and a few shelves lined with books, candles, and training manuals.

The room smelled faintly of parchment and dust, mixed with something vaguely metallic- probably from whatever weapons or armor were stored in here.

And then she spotted him.

A boy sat on the edge of one of the beds, hunched over a book. He looked up when she walked in, his bright magenta eyes immediately locking onto her.

He was younger than her- probably twelve, a little shorter than her, with short blond hair that swooped slightly in front of his face. His features were sharp, with a hooked nose and a slight gap between his teeth. He had a small chip in his ear, but other than that, he didn’t seem to have any visible scars.

For a second, they just stared at each other.

Then, (Y/N) sighed dramatically and flopped onto the unoccupied bed.

“So, Hunter, huh?” she said, folding her arms behind her head. “Guess that makes you my new babysitter.”

The boy bristled. “I’m not your babysitter,” he said quickly, his voice carrying the kind of indignant edge only a twelve-year-old could manage. “I’m training to become a scout. I have actual responsibilities.”

(Y/N) smirked. “Uh-huh. Sure. Whatever helps you sleep at night, kid.”

His eyes narrowed. “You’re not much older than me.”

“I’m thirteen.”

“That’s barely a difference.”

“Still older.”

Hunter exhaled sharply through his nose and shut his book with a snap. “Look,” he said, crossing his arms. “I don’t know why my uncle wants me to share a room with you, but just stay out of my way, and we won’t have any problems.”

(Y/N) snorted. “Oh, trust me, staying out of the way is the last thing I plan to do.”

Hunter gave her a long, scrutinizing look.

Before either of them could say anything else, a knock at the door interrupted them.

A scout stepped inside, dropping a neatly folded pile of clothes onto a nearby chair. "These are for you," they said to (Y/N). "Your scout uniforms, a mask, and a few off-duty outfits."

(Y/N) sat up, finally feeling a little relieved. "Awesome. Running around in a bathing suit wasn’t exactly my plan for today."

The scout gave a curt nod before leaving.

(Y/N) picked up one of the uniforms, inspecting it. The material was sturdy but flexible, mostly gray with black accents- same as what she had seen on the others. The off-duty clothes were simpler, mostly dark tones, but comfortable-looking.

Hunter watched her from his bed, arms still crossed.

"So," he said, voice measured. "You’re really human?"

(Y/N) glanced at him, then tapped her collarbone where her Gem gleamed faintly. "Half."

Hunter’s magenta eyes flickered to the gemstone, curiosity flashing across his face.

For a moment, neither of them spoke.

Then, Hunter tilted his head. "Well… at least you’re not completely useless."

(Y/N) snorted. "Not sure if that’s a compliment or an insult, but I’ll take it."

Hunter just hummed, flipping open his book again.

(Y/N) exhaled, rubbing at the fresh sigil on her wrist.

This was her new reality- for now, at least.

But she had no plans to stick around forever.

She just had to play along… until she found a way out.

Two years had passed since (Y/N) had been thrown into the Boiling Isles. Two years since she had been forced into the Emperor’s Coven, branded with a sigil meant for witches- one that, strangely, never seemed to affect her the way it did others.

She had learned a lot in that time.

Magic wasn’t just one thing here- it was divided, structured, controlled. There were different types of magic, and each coven specialized in one: Abominations, Healing, Illusions, Potions, and so on. Every witch was expected to join a coven, to be marked with a sigil that locked them into one type of magic for life. Only the Emperor’s Coven- Belos’s personal force- had the privilege of wielding multiple types of magic.

And anyone who refused to join a coven?

A wild witch.

(Y/N) had heard plenty about them. The Emperor painted them as dangerous, reckless, a threat to the system that kept order in the Isles. But the more she learned, the more she saw how much of it was just control.

She had trained alongside Hunter, learning the ways of the scouts, learning about the world she had been thrown into. And, in that time, she had become something she never expected- a partner.

After their training, they had been officially paired as scouting partners, working together on missions for the Emperor’s Coven. They had been given a slightly larger room than before, though they still shared it- two separate beds, a single wardrobe, and a small desk where Hunter often poured over books late into the night... Plus the little things (Y/N) made, scattered about in some places.

Despite their rocky start, they had grown into a strange, competitive sort of friendship.

Hunter was still Hunter, stubborn, cocky, always trying to prove himself. But over the years, (Y/N) had seen the cracks in his mask. He wasn’t just some power-hungry lackey- he wanted to be something, to prove his worth.

She got that.

And, despite everything, she trusted him more than anyone else in this place.

Not that she’d tell him that.

(Y/N) leaned against the railing of a high balcony overlooking the city of Bonesborough. The sky was dimming, lanterns flickering to life across the streets below. She tugged her gloves higher over her hands, absentmindedly brushing her fingers over the sigil on her wrist.

It still didn’t affect her.

Not the way it did witches. She had seen them struggle when they tried to use magic outside of their coven’s restriction, felt their pain when the sigil burned into them. But her? She could still summon her weapons, still feel the hum of energy in her Gem, still do things no one else here could.

And Belos knew it.

He had never spoken about it directly, but she had seen the way he watched her, the way he monitored her training, like she was an experiment he hadn’t quite figured out yet.

And she hated it.

“(Y/N).”

Hunter’s voice pulled her from her thoughts. She turned to see him approaching, his white Scout cloak swaying with each step. He had gotten taller over the years- not by much, but enough that he was no longer shorter than her. His face had grown sharper, more defined, but his magenta eyes still held that same intense focus.

“Daydreaming again?” he asked, stopping beside her.

(Y/N) smirked. “What can I say? Your Uncle gives us such boring work, Blondie.”

Hunter rolled his eyes. “We have a mission tomorrow. Higher-ups want us scouting near the Knee. We leave at dawn.”

“Right, right,” she said, waving a hand. “Any actual details, or do I have to guess?”

Hunter huffed, crossing his arms. “It’s just recon. There have been rumors of wild witches moving in that area. We’re supposed to investigate, report back if we find anything.”

(Y/N) exhaled through her nose. She knew how this went. If they found wild witches, they were supposed to report them, let the coven take care of it.

The problem was…

She wasn’t so sure she wanted to.

Over the past few months, rumors had been circulating- whispers about wild witches banding together, resisting the coven system. And, more interestingly, there had been talk of something else.

Another human.

(Y/N) had been keeping her ears open, listening for any mention of this mystery person. A human in the Isles? That wasn’t something that happened every day. If there really was someone else from her world here, she needed to find them.

Hunter shifted beside her, his eyes scanning the streets below. “You’re distracted.”

(Y/N) shrugged. “Aren’t I always?”

Hunter frowned but didn’t press. He knew her well enough by now to know when she wasn’t ready to talk. Still, as the sky darkened and the city lights flickered, (Y/N) made a silent decision. If there was another human here… She was going to find them.

After gazing at the area below for a while longer, the two of them head back to the Castle, to rest and prepare for the mission in the morning...

When the time came, the wind howled as (Y/N) and Hunter crouched low behind a jagged rock formation, scanning the Knee for any signs of wild witch activity. The area was desolate- snow-covered ruins and eerie skeletal remains of the Titan’s long-dead body stretched across the landscape. It was cold, but nothing (Y/N) couldn’t handle.

Hunter adjusted his mask, his magenta eyes narrowing as he peered through the holes. “Anything?” he asked.

(Y/N) kept her eyes on the distant figures ahead. “Couple of witchlings,” she muttered. “Nothing worth reporting.”

Hunter sighed. “Great. Another boring recon mission.”

(Y/N) smirked. “You’re the one who wanted to take this seriously, Blondie.”

Hunter shot her a glare, but she ignored him, focusing on the three witches she had spotted earlier.

The Blight kids.

She recognized them from past missions- Edric and Emira, the older twins, and their younger sister, Amity. They weren’t causing any trouble, just training. The twins were helping their sister with a training wand, guiding her as she practiced spells.

It was harmless.

(Y/N) leaned back against the rock. “Nothing to worry about. They’re still in school. Too young to be locked into a coven yet.”

Hunter hummed in agreement, but they both knew that wasn’t always a guarantee. Not many were allowed to join covens as young as they had been, but the Emperor had made exceptions before.

(Y/N) turned her gaze elsewhere, scanning the landscape for anything unusual.

That’s when she saw them.

At first, she thought they were just another pair of witches training in the wilderness. One was tall, wearing a red dress, with a coat over it. She was moving with practiced ease, magic swirling at her fingertips. The other was younger- around twelve, maybe- with a small frame and a hat covering her head.

(Y/N) wouldn’t have thought anything of it… if it weren’t for the way the girl struggled.

The older woman flicked her wrist, effortlessly making a spell circle. The younger girl tried to copy her… but nothing happened. She tried again, waving her hands frantically, but the magic simply wasn’t there.

The girl pouted, stomping her foot in frustration.

(Y/N)’s breath hitched.

That… wasn’t normal. Most witchlings could do at least some magic, even if it was weak, even if it needed assistance. But this girl? Nothing. Her eyes darted back to the older woman. It took her a second to recognize her, but when she did, her stomach twisted.

The Owl Lady.

(Y/N) had heard about her before- Eda Clawthorne. A notorious wild witch, a troublemaker, and someone the Emperor had his eye on.

And she was training a girl who couldn’t use magic.

(Y/N)’s fingers twitched toward her Gem, her mind racing.

A human.

It had to be.

She could feel Hunter shift beside her, his attention also locked onto the scene ahead. “That’s the Owl Lady,” he murmured. “We should report this.”

(Y/N) hesitated. “Should we?”

Hunter turned to her, brow furrowed. “She’s a known wild witch. You know the rules- if we spot her, we report her.”

(Y/N) clenched her jaw. She knew the rules. She had followed them for two years- but this was different. This wasn’t just a wild witch causing trouble. This was another human.

And if Belos found out?

She had no doubt in her mind- this girl wouldn’t get a choice in what happened next.

“…Not yet,” (Y/N) said.

Hunter frowned. “What?”

(Y/N) forced a smirk. “Come on, Blondie. You really think Belos doesn’t already know the Owl Lady’s out here? If we bring him this, he’s just going to say we wasted his time.”

Hunter hesitated, clearly torn.

(Y/N) pressed further. “Let’s keep watching. See what they’re up to. If it’s anything actually dangerous, then we report it.”

Hunter exhaled sharply, rolling his eyes. “Fine. But if we get in trouble for this, I’m blaming you.”

(Y/N) grinned. “Wouldn’t have it any other way.”

She turned her gaze back to the girl.

This was it.

This was her chance to finally get some answers.

(Y/N) moved silently through the snow-covered terrain, crouching low behind the jagged rock formations as she and Hunter edged closer to The Owl Lady and the young girl. The wind howled through the valley, but she barely felt the cold, her entire focus locked onto the scene in front of her.

She needed to be sure- was this girl really human? Or just a witch with some sort of magic-blocking issue?

Hunter followed after her, his arms crossed, clearly annoyed. “This is reckless,” he muttered under his breath. “We should’ve reported this already.”

(Y/N) smirked. “You should’ve reported this already. I never said I was going to.”

Hunter groaned. “This is why I don’t let you plan things.”

(Y/N) ignored him, her eyes fixed on Eda and the girl.

The Owl Lady was… something else.

Instead of teaching the girl proper spells, she was eating snow, explaining the different types as if that had anything to do with magic. The girl- who was bundled up in a coat and hat- looked increasingly frustrated, her arms flailing as she pouted.

(Y/N) raised an eyebrow. What kind of training method is that?

“She’s not even teaching her,” Hunter whispered, unimpressed. “What is this supposed to be?”

“No clue,” (Y/N) muttered, tilting her head as she watched.

The girl huffed, stomping her foot. “Eda! I wanna learn real magic! Not about weird snow flavors!”

Eda licked a bit of snow off her hand, nodding sagely. “That’s exactly what someone who doesnt know what they are doing would say.”

The girl groaned dramatically, throwing her arms up. “Come on! You said you’d teach me properly if I became your apprentice!”

Eda sighed. “And I will! But magic isn’t just about waving your hands around and hoping for the best, kid.” She turned her back for a moment, rummaging through her bag. “You’ve gotta understand it, feel it-”

(Y/N)’s eyes sharpened as the girl suddenly perked up, her expression shifting.

Something mischievous.

She glanced over at where the Blight siblings had been training earlier- where Amity’s training wand still lay abandoned in the snow.

(Y/N)’s stomach clenched as the girl quickly tiptoed over, her boots crunching lightly in the snow.

“Ohhh, here we go,” (Y/N) murmured.

Hunter frowned. “What?”

The girl smirked, crouching down and snatching up the wand before Eda could notice. Her fingers curled around the handle as she straightened up, holding it like it was some kind of trophy.

Then, with a spark of excitement in her eyes, she quickly copied the spell circles Eda had been trying to teach her. Before (Y/N) could see if she could actually cast the spell, Hunter jabbed at her slightly with his elbow, making her glance over at him.

“We need to go back and tell Belos,” Hunter said, his voice tense.

(Y/N) snapped her gaze to him. “Are you kidding me?” she whispered harshly. “We just found another human, and your first thought is to run off and tell him?”

Hunter’s jaw tightened. “That’s what we’re supposed to do.”

(Y/N) scoffed. “Right, because Belos totally won’t just lock her up the second he finds out she exists.”

Hunter exhaled sharply through his nose. “You don’t know that.”

(Y/N) narrowed her eyes. “Yeah? And you do?”

He hesitated. Just for a second. But it was enough.

(Y/N) shook her head. “Come on, Hunter. You know how he is. You know what he does to people who don’t fit into his perfect little system.” She gestured toward the girl. “She’s human! She’s not even a wild witch! What do you think he’s going to do when he finds out she doesn’t belong?”

Hunter’s grip on his staff tightened. “That’s not our call to make.”

(Y/N) stepped closer, lowering her voice. “So what, we just hand her over? Let Belos decide what happens to her? Just like he decided for us?”

Hunter’s eyes narrowed at her slightly. “That’s different.”

(Y/N)’s heart pounded. “How?”

“Because we chose this!” he hissed. “We trained for this! We earned our place in the Emperor’s Coven! She-” He motioned toward the girl. “-She’s just some random kid who got stuck here!”

(Y/N) crossed her arms. “So was I! So why should we turn her in?”

Hunter groaned, running a hand through his hair. “You’re being reckless again.”

“And you’re being blind.”

Hunter whipped toward her, his eyes sharp. “I follow the rules, (Y/N)! That’s what keeps us safe!"

(Y/N) opened her mouth to retort, but before she could, Hunter grabbed her by the shoulders.

She froze.

His grip wasn’t painful, but it was firm. Desperate. His magenta eyes locked onto hers, his expression taut with something almost pleading.

“We need to go back and tell Belos,” he said, his voice quieter now, but more urgent. “You don’t understand- he… We’ve already done too much.”

(Y/N)’s breath hitched.

She did understand.

Hunter wasn’t the Golden Guard yet, but he was striving for it. He wanted to prove himself, to be someone in Belos’s eyes. And he knew- just as well as she did- that they had already gone too far off course.

If they stayed, if they pushed this any further…

There would be consequences.

For both of them.

(Y/N) felt the tension in Hunter’s grip, the slight tremble in his fingers as he held onto her shoulders. She didn’t need to use her Gem’s abilities to feel the desperation radiating from him- his expression said it all.

He was scared.

He was scared of failing.

Scared of what would happen if they made the wrong call.

(Y/N) swallowed hard, her shoulders slowly relaxing under his grip. She had spent two years by his side, training, fighting, surviving in this world. They had started as rivals, as reluctant partners, but now?

He was the only person in this entire place that she trusted.

Her lips curled into a soft, almost resigned smile. It wasn’t her usual cocky smirk, nor the teasing grin she always threw his way.

It was something real… Something gentle.

“Okay,” she said quietly. “We’ll go back.”

Hunter blinked, surprised at her sudden change of tone. He let go of her shoulders, stepping back slightly, as if unsure whether to believe her.

(Y/N) exhaled through her nose, running a hand through her hair. “You’re right,” she admitted, though it pained her to say it. “We’ve already done too much. If we wait any longer, we’ll get in trouble.” She let out a dry chuckle. “And I really don’t feel like getting locked up today.”

Hunter studied her, searching her face for any sign of deception. But there was none.

(Y/N) meant it.

His shoulders lowered slightly, and he nodded. “Good. We’ll report what we saw. Belos needs to know.”

(Y/N) forced herself not to grimace at that part. She just casted a glance toward the girl again, before nodding slowly.

“Alright, Blondie,” she said, rolling her shoulders. “Let’s go.”

With one last look at the wild witches in the distance, (Y/N) turned on her heel and followed Hunter back toward the Emperor’s Coven.

The wind whipped past them as Hunter’s staff soared through the sky, cutting through the dark clouds over the Boiling Isles. (Y/N) held on tightly, her mind racing.

She glanced at Hunter, his face set in a determined, almost grim expression. He believed this was the right thing. He had to. This was his whole life, his whole purpose- following orders, proving himself, earning his place.

And, for better or worse, (Y/N) had chosen to stand beside him.

As the castle loomed ahead, its towering white spires gleaming under the pale light, (Y/N) forced down the unease bubbling in her gut. When they entered the throne room, (Y/N) immediately felt the oppressive weight of Belos’s presence settle over her.

He sat on his throne, his golden mask unreadable, his long cloak draped over his form like a shroud. The air was thick with something dark, something wrong.

(Y/N) and Hunter both dropped to one knee.

No matter how much (Y/N) hated bowing to anyone, she knew better than to test Belos’s patience.

Hunter spoke first, his voice steady- though (Y/N) could hear the faint edge of nerves beneath it.

“We scouted the Knee as ordered,” Hunter reported. “We spotted a few witchlings, nothing of concern… but then we saw The Owl Lady.”

At that, Belos tilted his head slightly. “And you did not return immediately?”

Hunter swallowed. “We wanted to be sure-”

That was the wrong answer.

Before (Y/N) could react, a sickly green tendril of dark, corrupted magic shot from Belos’s fingertips, moving too fast.

It slashed across Hunter’s face and neck.

Hunter choked on a breath, his eyes going wide as pain ripped through him. His body instinctively curled inward, one hand shooting up to press against the fresh wound. Blood dripped between his fingers, staining his gloves.

(Y/N) moved without thinking- she was at his side in an instant, her Gem flaring to life, her eyes burning bright pink.

She glared up at Belos, her fists clenched so tightly that her nails dug into her palms. She could feel everything- the suffocating darkness in the air, the flicker of pain rolling off of Hunter, the twisted amusement buried deep in Belos’s presence.

This wasn’t a lesson.

It was punishment.

Her voice was sharp, shaking with barely contained rage. “What the hell is wrong with you?!”

The room fell into a suffocating silence… Gi didn’t care. She knew she had just crossed a very dangerous line.

But right now?

She didn’t give a damn.

Belos tilted his head slightly, his golden mask betraying nothing. The room still felt suffocating, heavy with his presence.

“This is punishment,” he said calmly, his voice steady, as if explaining something simple to a disobedient child. “For not following orders.”

(Y/N)’s blood boiled, her pink-glowing eyes still locked onto him.

Hunter, still doubled over, sucked in a sharp breath, his fingers pressing against the wound on his cheek and neck. He was trying to keep quiet, trying to stay composed, but (Y/N) could feel his pain like it was her own.

“Next time,” Belos continued, his voice dripping with authority, “maybe you’ll think twice before disobeying.”

(Y/N)’s jaw clenched so hard it hurt.

But she knew better than to push further… Not now.

Belos flicked his wrist dismissively. “Leave me.”

(Y/N) was already moving- she slid an arm around Hunter’s back, careful but firm, helping him stand as his legs wobbled slightly. He still held one hand against his wound, his breaths shallow but controlled.

They didn’t say a word as they left the throne room, moving through the castle halls in tense, heavy silence.

The Healing Wing of the Emperor’s Coven was quiet when they arrived, dim candlelight flickering in glass lanterns along the walls. It was meant for scouts who got injured during missions- but not for those injured in the throne room.

Still, (Y/N) didn’t hesitate. She carefully led Hunter to one of the cots, easing him down before turning to one of the nearby healers. “He needs help. Now.”

The healer, a middle-aged witch from the Healing Coven, raised an eyebrow but quickly got to work, their hands glowing with soft blue light as they approached Hunter.

(Y/N) took a slow breath, crossing her arms tightly over her chest, trying to breathe past the lingering rage still burning inside her. Hunter just sat there, silent as the healer examined his wound, his magenta eyes staring at the floor.

She hated this.

She hated all of this.

But more than anything- more than the mission, more than the punishment, more than Belos- she hated that Hunter wasn’t surprised… Like he had expected this. Like it had happened before.

(Y/N) clenched her fists, her Gem pulsing faintly.

She wasn’t going to forget this- and she sure as hell wasn’t going to forgive it.

The soft glow of healing magic flickered against the dim candlelight as the healer worked on Hunter’s wound. (Y/N) stood off to the side, arms crossed tightly, watching every movement. The healer’s hands glowed a calming blue, slowly sealing the gash, easing the bleeding, knitting the torn skin back together. But even with magic, some things couldn’t be undone.

When the healer finally stepped back, they sighed. “That’s all I can do. The wound is closed, but the scarring… it’ll stay.”

Hunter barely reacted. He just gave a stiff nod, his jaw tight. (Y/N), however, clenched her fists. She knew that. She knew it wasn’t going to disappear entirely. But hearing it made her stomach twist with anger all over again.

The scar ran from the side of Hunter’s neck, up along his jaw, and across his cheek, ending just below his eye. His skin was still bruised around it, tender from the rawness of fresh healing.

Belos had done this to him.

Their own leader had scarred him just for hesitating.

(Y/N) inhaled sharply through her nose and forced herself to swallow the rage bubbling inside her. Now wasn’t the time. She stepped forward, moving to Hunter’s side. He hadn’t spoken much since they left the throne room.

“Come on, Blondie” she murmured, her voice softer than usual. “Let’s get you back to our room.”

Hunter didn’t argue. He stood, stiff but steady, and let (Y/N) guide him out of the healing wing.

The walk back to their shared quarters was quiet… Too quiet.

(Y/N) glanced at Hunter out of the corner of her eye. His expression was unreadable, his gaze fixed straight ahead. But she could feel the way his emotions twisted and churned inside him. She wanted to say something. Anything.

But what was she supposed to say? Sorry our boss is a complete psychopath? Sorry this happened to you? Sorry I dragged this out and made things worse?

None of it would fix this… So she said nothing.

When they finally reached their room, she guided him inside and shut the door behind them. Hunter wordlessly sat on his bed, rubbing a gloved hand over his face before resting his elbows on his knees. He exhaled slowly, staring at the floor.

(Y/N) hesitated, then sat beside him, not too close, but close enough. For a long moment, they just sat there in silence.

Then, finally, Hunter spoke. “I shouldn’t have argued,” he muttered. His voice was hoarse, tired. “I should’ve just… obeyed.”

(Y/N)’s eyes flashed. “No.”

Hunter blinked, looking up at her.

(Y/N) turned to him fully, her (E/C) eyes- still faintly pink from lingering emotion- burning with something fierce. “Don’t do that. Don’t act like this is your fault.”

Hunter frowned, his fingers twitching at his sides. “But I-”

“No.” (Y/N) shook her head. “Belos chose to do this. He didn’t have to, Hunter. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

Hunter swallowed hard, his gaze dropping again. “Doesn’t change anything.”

(Y/N) exhaled, running a hand through her hair. “Maybe not. But it wasn’t your fault.”

She hesitated for a moment, then reached out, gently touching his sleeve, just for a second. A small, silent reassurance… Hunter didn’t pull away. He just sighed and closed his eyes, his shoulders slumping slightly.

She hated seeing him like this.

Carefully, she shifted a little closer, keeping her movements slow, deliberate. Her free hand lifted, hesitating for just a second before cupping the uninjured side of his face.

Hunter stiffened at the contact, his magenta eyes flicking to hers in surprise… But he didn’t pull away. Her thumb brushed against his jaw, slow and soft, a comforting touch rather than anything demanding. She let out a quiet sigh, her Gem glowing faintly in the dim candlelight.

“Hunter,” she murmured.

His throat bobbed slightly as he swallowed, but he stayed quiet.

(Y/N)’s lips curled into a small, knowing smile, her voice dropping to something softer, something teasing. “I am sorry, though.”

Hunter frowned. “For what?”

She tilted her head slightly, her smile turning just a little playful. “For dragging this out. For making things harder. But, y’know…” Her thumb brushed along his cheek again. “You still look just as handsome.”

A slow blink.

Hunter’s ears immediately turned pink.

His mouth opened, then shut. Then opened again, as if he was trying to find words but failing miserably. His usual composure, his sharp retorts and perfectly structured logic- gone.

(Y/N) grinned.

There it was...

A small, flickering moment of something other than pain, than duty, than the crushing weight of what had just happened. Just for a second.

She could do more. She could use her Gem, could ease the tension twisting in his chest, could make him feel lighter, could quiet the storm inside of him.

But she wouldn’t.

Because even though she could sense emotions, even though she could manipulate them if she wanted to… That wasn’t her choice to make. Hunter’s emotions, his pain, his feelings- those belonged to him.

So instead, she just let her hand linger, warm and steady, letting him decide what to do next.

After a moment, Hunter finally managed to find his voice. “You’re ridiculous,” he muttered, his face still lightly flushed.

(Y/N) smirked. “And yet, you’re not denying it.”

Hunter groaned, rolling his eyes, but she could feel the shift- the tiniest, smallest change. The weight of the moment didn’t disappear, but it eased, just a little.

So for my request, can you write a oneshot featuring Yasuhiro Hagakure with chastity please?

In the fic, Ishimaru catches him masturbating in a public bathroom and tries to report him. But after Hagakure begs him not to while vowing to do anything, Ishimaru agrees but on one condition: Hagakure must wear a chastity cage for a whole month while he keeps the key. So Hagakure would have to put up with his new cock cage while trying to find ways to deal with his horniness.

What do you think?

A/N: I can totally do that, @princeasimdiya12! Fair warning, this is the first ever smut I've ever written, but I tried my best! Normally, I stick to x reader fics, but for requests, I'm more than willing to do ships and other stuff.

Locked Tight

Yasuhiro Hagakure (feat. Kiyotaka Ishimaru)

18+ MDNI

Warnings: Masturbation/Sexual Content, Chastity Kink/Denial, Humiliation/Embarrassment.

Word Count: 1950

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

Yasuhiro Hagakure wasn’t exactly known for being careful. Hell, half the time, he wasn’t even known for being aware. But even he had to admit- this? This was a colossal screw-up.

Because right now, standing in front of him, arms crossed and face burning red (from fury or embarrassment, Hiro wasn’t sure), was Kiyotaka Ishimaru.

And Hiro?

Well, Hiro was currently sitting in the boys’ bathroom, pants around his ankles, dick very obviously in hand.

He had been in too much of a rush, too desperate, and had completely failed to lock the door.

This was the consequence of that.

“I-Ishimaru! Hey, uh, good evening? Didn’t hear you knock, man!” Hiro stammered, hurriedly yanking his pants up.

“That’s because I didn’t knock!” Ishimaru snapped, his voice sharp with righteous fury. “And even if I had, it wouldn’t change the fact that you were engaging in highly inappropriate behavior! Do you have no self-control? No shame?”

Hiro winced. Oh, he had plenty of shame- he just had shitty luck and even worse timing.

“Look, man, it’s not what it looks like!”

Ishimaru’s eyes twitched. “Oh? So you weren’t indulging in personal gratification instead of focusing on your academic and moral duties?”

Hiro groaned. “Okay, okay, fine! It is what it looks like! But please, please, don’t tell anyone, man! I can’t have this kind of thing on my rep-”

Ishimaru huffed, eyes narrowing, the fire of justice burning behind them. “Hmph. I should report you. Such behavior is degenerate! A distraction from self-improvement!”

Hiro paled. “Wait, no! Look, I swear I’ll do anything! Just- just don’t make this a whole thing, okay? I’ll owe you big time, man, I promise!”

Ishimaru hesitated, tapping his fingers against his crossed arms, as if weighing a moral dilemma far greater than the situation warranted. Then, finally, his eyes sharpened with conviction.

“Very well,” he said. “I won’t report you. However- you will have to prove that you can control your impulses. That you can rise above your baser urges and show some discipline!”

Hiro gulped. “Uh... What exactly does that mean?”

Ishimaru reached into his pocket, pulled out something small, metallic, and deeply ominous. Hiro’s stomach dropped.

“The hell is that?”

“A chastity device,” Ishimaru said primly. “You will wear it for a full month. I will keep the key. This will teach you true restraint.”

Hiro stared at him, horrified. “Dude. You just carry that around?”

Ishimaru’s cheeks flushed slightly, but his expression remained steadfast. “I practice self-discipline as well! I have my own! This is a tool of self-control, not something to be ashamed of!”

“That’s a cage for my dick, man!” Hiro wailed.

“Yes, and you will wear it, or I will report you.”

Ishimaru folded his arms, looking positively thrilled about this arrangement.

“So? What will it be?”

Hiro groaned, rubbing his face. He had no idea how he was gonna survive this.

“…Fine,” he muttered. “But I swear to god, if you lose that key-”

Ishimaru beamed. “Excellent! Your road to self-discipline begins immediately!”

Hiro gulped.

Yeah. This was gonna be hell.

Hagakure had made a lot of dumb mistakes in his life- falling for scam emails, trusting his own bullshit fortunes, getting stuck in a vending machine trying to grab a bag of chips- but this?

This was next-level self-inflicted misery.

Four days since Ishimaru had locked him up, and Hiro was already losing his goddamn mind.

It wasn’t just the fact that he couldn’t jerk off. It was that now? He wanted to more than ever.

Every little thing was a problem.

His boxers rubbed against it weirdly. His morning wood was absolute agony. Even just sitting wrong made the damn thing pinch.

And the worst part?

Ishimaru was acting like nothing was happening.

Every morning, the bastard would cheerfully stop by Hiro’s room and ask, “How is your self-discipline progressing?”

And Hiro? Hiro had to sit there, stiff as a fucking board (and not in the way he wanted), gritting his teeth and pretending he wasn’t about to explode.

“It’s fine,” he’d growl through clenched teeth.

Ishimaru would beam. “Excellent! Keep it up, and you’ll be a shining example of self-restraint in no time!”

Hiro wanted to die.

By day ten, he cracked.

“Ishimaru, please,” he begged, cornering the other man in the hallway. “I-I get it, okay?! Lesson learned! My self-control is ironclad! You can let me out now, right? RIGHT?”

Ishimaru just raised an eyebrow. “Hagakure, you agreed to one month.”

Hiro whimpered. “I wasn’t thinking straight! I had just been caught with my- you know! I panicked!”

Ishimaru crossed his arms. “And you believe that just ten days of discomfort has proven your growth?”

Hiro nodded so fast he gave himself whiplash. “YES! I have evolved! I have become a new man! A better man!”

Ishimaru hummed, clearly thinking it over. Then, slowly, a small, maddeningly smug smile crept across his face.

“Well, I do admire your enthusiasm, but rules are rules, Hagakure. A promise is a promise.”

Hiro stared at him in horror.

“You sick bastard.”

Ishimaru clapped him on the shoulder. “Stay strong, my friend! Only twenty days to go!”

Hiro slumped against the wall as Ishimaru walked away, whistling.

This was it.

This was how he was gonna die.

Hagakure had been locked up for ten days, and he already felt like he was on the verge of death.

But somehow- somehow- the next twenty were so much worse.

At first, he tried to be subtle about it.

Maybe if he just… rubbed against something, he could get a little relief? Not enough to actually get off, obviously, but just enough to take the edge off.

Big mistake.

The second he tried grinding against his mattress, the cage pinched in the worst way possible, sending a bolt of searing pain straight through him. He yelped, nearly tumbling off the bed.

Okay. New plan.

Pillows? Nope.

Rubbing with his hands? Absolutely not.

At one point, he even tried taking a warm bath, thinking the heat might help relax things-

Only for his body to betray him.

Getting hard inside the cage was a fresh new level of agony.

He almost cried.

Hiro was so desperate that his brain started working against him.

Everything felt suggestive.

The way his belt brushed against his hips? Sinful.

The vibrations of the washing machine when he leaned on it? Dangerously close to making him moan out loud.

And worst of all?

His own goddamn brain was edging him in his sleep.

He’d wake up from the dirtiest, filthiest dreams imaginable, fully straining against the cage, and holy hell, did it hurt.

He’d gasp awake, panting and sweating like he just ran a marathon, only to be left with zero relief.

He was losing his mind.

By the twentieth day, he was desperate. Absolutely feral.

He started trying to bargain with Ishimaru, offering anything to get the damn thing off.

“I’ll clean your room! For a year!”

“No.”

“I-I’ll give up porn forever! Forever, man! Just please!”

Ishimaru simply adjusted his armband, looking smug as hell.

“Discipline isn’t about temporary suffering, Hagakure! You’re making great progress!”

Hiro just threw his arms up in frustration and stormed off.

By now, Hiro had gotten so pent-up that he was at constant risk of embarrassing himself in public.

It was bad.

Anytime someone so much as brushed against him, he had to fight the urge to shudder.

When Asahina gave him a totally normal, friendly hug? He had to bite his tongue so he wouldn’t make a sound.

And when Celeste leaned in just a little too close while asking about his fortune-telling?

He had to physically excuse himself before he humiliated himself in front of everyone.

He was turning into a goddamn animal.

By the last stretch, Hiro was not okay.

He was snappy, jittery, and absolutely obsessed with getting the key back.

It consumed his every waking thought.

He barely functioned like a normal human being anymore- just an overgrown, frustrated mess whose sole purpose in life was getting that damn cage off.

And so, on the final day, he snapped.

Hiro stormed into Ishimaru’s room, slamming the door behind him.

Ishimaru barely had time to look up before Hiro grabbed him by the shoulders.

“Give me the key.”

Ishimaru blinked, completely unbothered. “Now, now, Hagakure, there’s no need for viole-”

Hiro shook him.

“THE KEY, ISHIMARU.”

Ishimaru sighed, tilting his head in mock thought.

“I could let you out, but I must say, your progress has been-”

“I SWEAR TO FUCKING GOD-”

Ishimaru smirked.

That bastard actually smirked.

“Very well,” he said, finally pulling out the key. “I suppose you have shown an admirable amount of restrai-”

Hiro didn’t even wait for him to finish.

The second the key was in his hands, he was gone.

Ishimaru just chuckled, crossing his arms.

“Maybe next time, he’ll thank me for it.”

Hagakure sprinted back to his room like a man possessed.

He didn’t even bother locking the door behind him- he just collapsed onto the bed, fumbling so hard with the tiny key that he almost dropped it.

His hands were shaking.

It took a few tries- his fingers were so clumsy from sheer desperation that he kept missing the lock-

But finally, finally, he heard the soft click.

And then, blessedly, the cage came off.

The sheer relief that flooded through him was indescribable.

He let out a ragged, shuddering breath, head tilting back as he simply existed in this moment of pure, unfiltered freedom.

A month.

A whole damn month.

And now, at last-

He couldn’t waste another second.

His hand was already moving before he even consciously decided to do it.

Hagakure grabbed his cock, shuddering at the feeling of being able to finally have something other than harsh metal against his throbbing length.

He slowly moved his hand up and down his shaft, a broken moan leaving his lips as his head flew back against the bed.

“F-Fuck…”

His hips sputtered upward at the smallest of touches, his body searching for a release to the tension that had been building up for a month.

As his hand pumped faster, his eyes rolled back, a low groan escaping his throat.

“Hnng-”

It hit him like a tidal wave.

His body jerked uncontrollably as he reached his limit, thick ropes of pent-up frustration spilling over his hand and thighs.

He lay there, sprawled across his bed, completely and utterly wrecked.

His brain was fried.

His body felt like it had been through war.

But goddamn, was he satisfied.

The stupid little cage sat on his bedside table, looking small and unassuming, like it hadn’t just put him through a month of absolute hell.

He glared at it.

Never. Again.

A knock sounded at the door.

“Hagakure?” Ishimaru’s voice came through, chipper and righteous as ever. “I trust you’ve learned something valuable from this experience?”

Hagakure groaned into his pillow. “Yeah,” he muttered, voice hoarse from his earlier activities.

“And what is that?” Ishimaru asked expectantly.

Hagakure sighed, dragging a hand down his face.

“…That I never, ever wanna go through that again.”

Ishimaru chuckled. “An admirable conclusion! I’m proud of your growth!”

Hagakure just groaned again, too exhausted to argue.

Ishimaru continued, “Now then! If you ever need assistance maintaining your self-discipline in the future, I’d be happy to-”

Hagakure threw a pillow at the door.

“GO AWAY!”

Ishimaru just laughed as he walked away.

Hagakure sighed, grabbing some tissues, shakily cleaning himself up.

He was so done with this whole ordeal.

He was taking a goddamn nap.

A long, satisfied one.

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.

ׄ 𓈒 ❤︎ 𓈒 ׄ ~~ Masterlist ~~ ׄ 𓈒 ❤︎ 𓈒 ׄ

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

Requests are open! ( ˶ˆ꒳ˆ˵ )

Feel free to use my ask box to request anything, within reason. I am open to adding more fandoms to my list, but only if I've interacted with them, and know the lore of what I am writing is. I am also willing to add more things to the list of stuff I'm willing to write, depending on what is requested. I do not do Art requests, but I am thinking about doing commissions, eventually.

Art posts! ٩(ˊᗜˋ )و

-Older pieces

-Mostly unfinished pieces

-Profile pic redraw

Things I will write ₍ᐢ. .ᐢ₎

One shots

Fluff

Angst

Smut (assume characters involved in mature content are of age, obviously. Also, I don't normally just do smut for smut, I have to have some sort of plot device to keep the story moving.)

Full works

Headcannons

Multi-parts

Things I wont write (·•᷄‎ࡇ•᷅ )

Any type of noncon

Incest

Anything mature involving anyone Underage

Literally anything involving the character Aoi Asahina. (I was threatened, and I do not wish to deal with that shit, at all. Any and all characters I think will put me in danger, expect them to be put on this list.)

Finished Fic's ꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱

-Ember in the Dark: Young!Silco x Fem!Reader (Full Work)

Oneshots ◝(ᵔᗜᵔ)◜

-Locked Tight: Yasuhiro Hagakure feat. Kiyotata Ishamaru (Smut) (Requested)

-Trust Fall Trauma: Sinner!Amity Blight x Hazbin Hotel. (Requested)

Part.1

Part.2

-Hellbound: The Owl House x Hazbin Hotel AU (Requested)

-Where the Hurt Doesn’t Reach: Multifandom x Reader (Requested)

Part.1 (Peko, Mikan, and Tenko x Male!Reader)

Part.2 (Sayaka, Celestia, and Sonia x Male!Reader)

Part.3 (Charlie, Emily, and Verosika x Male!Reader)

Part.4 (Mahiru, Toko/Genocide Jack, and Maki x Female!Reader)

Part.5 (Kyoko, Kaede, and Miu x Male!Reader)

Part.6 (Chiaki, Akane and Junko x Male!Reader)

-Terrible Prank- Better Apology: Demon Slayer x Fem!Reader (Requested)

Part.1 (Tanjiro, Inosuke, Zenitsu, Nezuko, and Genya)

-Ashes of Grace: Sera x Overlord!Male!Reader (Requested)

-Stronger than Chains: Mondo Owada (Requested)

-You Can Be Weak With Me: Inosuke x GN!Reader (Requested)

-Feral Loyalty: Verosika x Fem!Reader (Requested)

Headcanons ＼(^o^)／

-Journey into Intimacy: First time Danganronpa Headcanons (Smut) (Requested)

Part.1 (Mahiru and Kaede)

Part.2 (Kyoko, Celeste, and Toko/Genocide Jack)

-The Softest Spotlight: Sayaka x GN!Reader Fluff Headcannons

-A Little Too Close: Shuichi x GN!Reader Headcannons (Reqested)

-Carnival Hearts: Demon Slayer x Fem!Black!Reader Headcannons (Reqested)

Part.1 (Tanjiro, Inosuke, Zenitsu, Nezuko, and Genya)

-All of Me, All of You: Demon Slayer x GN!Black!Reader

Part.1 (Tanjiro, Inosuke, Zenitsu, Nezuko, and Genya)

-Mine, Loud and Clear: Verosika x Male!Reader (Requested)

-Melt for Me: Sub!Makoto Naegi x Male!Reader (Smut) (Requested)

-Soft Places to Fall: Genya x GN!Reader (Requested)

-Raised by the End of the World: Older-Sister!Reader x The Walking Dead (Requested)

Full works ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა

-Ember in the Dark: Young!Silco x Fem!Reader

Part.1

Part.2

Part.3

Part.4

Part.5

Part.6

Part.7

Part.8

Part. 9

Part.10

Part.11 (Last Part)

-Loyalty Cuts Deepest: Silco x Fem!Reader

Part.1

Part.2

-Drifting Between Worlds: Hunter x Fem!Reader (Requested)

Part.1

Part.2

Different Fandoms I am willing to write for! ♡꒰ᵕ༚ᵕ⑅꒱

Arcane

Attack on Titan

Avatar the Last Air Bender

Adventure Time

Black Butler

Baldur's Gate 3

Creepypasta

DC universe

Death Note

Danganronpa

Detroit: Become Human

Demon Slayer

Hazbin Hotel

Helluva Boss

Homestuck

Marvel

My Hero Acedemia

Naruto

Peaky Blinders

Red Dead Redemption 2

Supernatural

Stranger Things

Sally Face

Soul Eater

Steven Universe

The Owl House

The Walking Dead

The Last of Us

Undertale

I love this 🥺

High-ish quality scans of the Silco & Vander pages from the artbook

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.

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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.

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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...

Art post!

This post has some more recent art, and sketches. My last post had some of my older, finished pieces. Feel free to give me any suggestions, tips, or requests in my asks or dms :}

A lot of these are unfinished, but I do plan on finishing them eventually. As soon as I do, I'll post them on here, and my insta!

Art post!

These are some of my older, finished pieces. Most of my art is posted on insta, but I do have two art books posted ony Wattpad too (both of which are in my bio). I have a lot more of my old art in those, all from the age of like 12, all the way to current time. I won't lie, a lot of it is cringe, but art is a journey. It would be more surprising if I wasn't cringe in my early teens, to be honest.

Anyway, here is my art! It's a bit old, but I will post more recent art in another post :}

Welcome!

I'm Gi, thank you for visiting my profile :}

Okay, so, I'm going to be so honest... I'm not exactly experienced when it comes to Tumblr. I mostly use it to look at art, and read fanfiction. Nonetheless, I want to try! I'm planning on posting my art, along with any fics I decide I want to write. I normally posty art on Insta, and my fics on Wattpad, but I thought it was time for a change, so I migrated here. I don't know what I'm doing exactly, but I would love suggestions on how to make things better, my writing, art, profile, everything! Feel free to give me any tips you want, I'll appreciate anything given to me :}

I'm going to start off with posting some art, just so this isn't my only post. If you like my work, don't hesitate to send me requests or suggestions!