Melt For Me

Hello my friend; I just came across your account so I wanted to say that I love your stories and everything! I also wanted to know if you are doing any stories requests or anything?🌷✨🤗🍒

Hiiii, @lelewright1234!!!! :}

I do indeed take requests! All of my boundaries and fandoms are in my masterlist, feel free to request anything you'd like! I have a few other requests I'm working on currently, but I love writing, I normally I get them done pretty quickly.

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

Loyalty Cuts Deepest pt.2

Silco x Fem!Reader

pt.1

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

Word Count: 5894

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

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

It should’ve been abandoned.

It wasn’t.

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

Silco.

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

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

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

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

It made her heart ache.

How could she still miss it?

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

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

She didn’t respond. Couldn’t.

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

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

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

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

And for the first time, he looked up.

Straight at her.

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

(Y/N) didn’t return the look.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Vander didn’t spare him a glance.

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

Silco’s jaw tightened.

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

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

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

That struck something.

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

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

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

“The nation of Zaun.”

Then back to Vander, venom lacing each word.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He looked up at Silco- truly looked at him.

“You were my brother.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

His eyes bore into Vander.

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

He tilted his head.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Vander’s eyes turned back to Silco.

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

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

Silco’s eyes narrowed, sharp and burning.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Past the shimmer.

Past the scars.

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

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

(Y/N) watched it all.

She didn’t move.

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

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

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

Inside, it was just the two of them.

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

She didn’t.

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

She did.

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

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

Then (Y/N) spoke.

Her voice cracked.

“I… I looked for you…”

Silco’s jaw twitched.

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

She inhaled sharply, her hands shaking.

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

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

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

But this- this was different.

This was him.

And she’d missed him so much.

Silco stood slowly.

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

She nearly collapsed into him.

But he caught her.

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

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

It clung to his coat, to his skin.

Shimmer.

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

For the first time in years…

He held her like he’d never let go.

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

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

He stilled.

(Y/N) turned, heart clenching.

Outside, darting shapes blurred through the shadows.

Mylo… Claggor. Vi.

Her heart dropped.

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

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

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

Her heart cracked again.

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

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

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

A whistle cut through the air behind them.

Footsteps answered.

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

“Of course,” she muttered.

Another man appeared, stepping forward.

He held chains.

(Y/N)’s stomach turned cold.

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

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

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

She didn’t have time to answer.

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

Her breath stuttered. Her knees buckled slightly.

He made these… for her.

The realization made her blood run cold.

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

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

“Welcome.”

The children turned sharply.

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

And then they saw her.

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

Their eyes locked with hers.

And (Y/N)’s heart shattered.

Fear. Sadness. Betrayal.

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

“M-Mom…?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He paused, eyes glittering with venom.

“…And he was never seen again.”

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

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

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

Not like this.

Vi didn’t hesitate.

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

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

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

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

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

And then one of Silco’s men stepped forward.

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

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

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

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

“Let me go!”

But Sevika didn’t budge.

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

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

And met the man head-on.

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

The man lunged.

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

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

Then she struck.

One brutal, upward punch.

Crack.

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

Out cold.

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

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

(Y/N)’s eyes never left Vi.

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

One after another, they came.

And one by one, Vi dropped them.

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

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

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

Her baby girl was holding her own.

Then… only Sevika remained.

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

But Silco raised his hand- calm, measured.

“Hold.”

Sevika paused, eyes narrowing. But she obeyed.

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

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

This wasn’t over.

Not yet.

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

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

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

And then- he screamed.

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

(Y/N)’s blood ran cold.

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

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

But the monster was faster.

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

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

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

“I said I’d try,” he said quietly.

It wasn’t enough.

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

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

And the monster threw Vi.

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

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

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

She crawled.

Clawed toward the others.

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

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

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

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

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

Vi was safe.

For now.

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

But her eyes never left Silco.

And her heart had never hurt more.

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

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

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

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

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

There was a silence between them.

And then he looked at her.

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

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

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

And then- click.

A small sound. Metal ticking softly against the walkway.

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

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

She recognized it immediately.

Powder’s.

The monkey sat still for a beat, and then-

BOOM.

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

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

The force hit them like a wave.

Smoke. Shrapnel. Flames.

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

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

Her left arm… was gone.

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

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

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

The devastation was unreal.

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

And in the back of the room-

Claggor.

Still. Lifeless.

Mylo- bloodied, crushed under debris, unmoving.

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

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

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

She shrugged it off.

He didn’t try again.

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

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

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

Then-

Movement.

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

He roared and charged.

Fists flew.

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

Then-

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

He groaned, tried to stand-

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

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

Just watched.

Silco stepped up behind Vander- silent as a shadow.

And then… The blade.

In the back.

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

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

Lower.

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

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

And then he shoved him.

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

Everything went quiet.

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

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

“...Find the girl.”

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

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

BOOM.

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

(Y/N) stumbled.

The walkway groaned beneath their feet.

And then- a low growl.

Primal. Familiar.

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

Another figure emerged through the smoke and shadow.

Twisted. Unnatural.

A different kind of monster.

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

Silco’s jaw tensed as his eyes widened.

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

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

Her eyes were locked on the new creature.

Its eyes met hers- burning, tinged with shimmer.

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

He had survived.

He had used the shimmer.

And he had changed.

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

“Silco.”

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

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

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

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

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

They stood in silence.

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

But she heard it.

Faint, echoing through the smoke:

Vi's screams.

Powder’s cries.

They walked until the sounds grew louder- closer.

Then, voices. Muffled at first.

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

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

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

“Powder!” she gasped.

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

Powder.

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

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

(Y/N) froze a few steps away.

Her heart shattered all over again.

Powder was curled up so small, so broken.

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

Powder looked up.

And launched into her.

“Mama-!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“We’ll show them all.”

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

And Silco clung to them both.

And for better or worse…

This was what remained.

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

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

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

“Come on,” he said, gently.

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

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

But she carried her anyway.

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

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

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

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

There was no discussion.

The men moved quickly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“(Y/N)…?”

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

Silco held up the key.

“Can I trust you still?”

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

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

“I suppose it is.”

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

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

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

Silco didn’t move yet.

(Y/N) took a deep breath.

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

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

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

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

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

She didn’t flinch.

Didn’t revel in the return of her freedom.

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

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

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

“Almost done, sweetheart…”

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

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

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

No questions.

No celebration.

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

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

And she’d call her by something warm.

Something safe.

Until the world made room for her again.

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.

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!

Another ’’where the hurt doesnt reach’’ with Chinki, akane and junko with male!reader please

A/N: Of course! Pretty sure I've made one of these fic's for most of the girls in the games now. That's fun :}

Where the Hurt Doesn’t Reach pt.6

pt.5 - pt.?

pt.1

Chiaki, Akane and Junko x Male!Reader

Warnings: Themes of Trauma/Abuse, Mentions of Assault/Threats, Mental Health Topics, Sensitive Touch & Boundaries, Social Anxiety/Avoidance

Word Count: 3794

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

Chiaki:

The lights in the classroom flickered softly as the final bell rang. The hallways outside were already emptying, voices and laughter growing fainter with each passing second. But (Y/N) stayed seated at his desk, unmoving, his fingers curled tightly around the hem of his uniform jacket.

He hated this part of the day.

Not because of the classes, not even because of the exhaustion that dragged on his bones like weighted chains. But because eventually, he had to move. He had to walk out there. Past the boys who shouted too loudly, who bumped shoulders too hard, who laughed like threats.

His chest tightened.

"(Y/N)?" a soft voice floated into the room.

He flinched, halfway rising from his chair before registering the owner. Not a threat. Not him. Just... Chiaki…

The quiet girl who always carried her game console in her pocket, eyes half-lidded like she was constantly drifting through dreamy levels. She didn’t talk much, and when she did, it was often in game references and strategy hints. But somehow, she always noticed things no one else did.

Like the way he kept his back to the wall. The way he never raised his voice. The way he flinched when any of the boys clapped a hand on each other’s backs.

"...You didn’t leave with the others," she said, stepping closer, her bag hanging loosely from one shoulder. "Are you... waiting for someone?"

He shook his head silently.

Chiaki tilted her head. "Okay... can I sit here then?"

(Y/N) hesitated, then nodded. She took the seat beside him, setting her console on the desk between them. Her thumbs moved expertly over the buttons as a soft chiptune melody filled the space between them.

“I’m playing River Quest II,” she said, glancing sideways. “It’s about this kid who has to cross a haunted river to find his way home. But the boat he’s using keeps falling apart. So every night, he builds a new one. And even if he sinks, he tries again the next day.”

"...That sounds hard," (Y/N) murmured, voice hoarse.

“Yeah. But... I like it. There’s a lot of failure. But no matter what, the game lets you keep trying. Like... it wants you to win eventually. You just have to survive long enough.”

Her words sank into him slowly. Gentle. Understanding. Not pushing.

She didn’t ask questions like the counselors did. She didn’t talk about “opening up” or “dealing with trauma.” She just sat beside him in the silence, letting him exist.

"...You don’t talk to many people," Chiaki said softly after a while, her eyes still on the game. “Especially not guys.”

He stiffened. Instinctively. Reflexively.

She didn’t apologize. Didn’t backpedal or smother him with concern.

“I just thought you should know,” she continued, “you’re not weird for that.”

He turned to look at her. Her expression was unreadable- but not cold. Just... focused, like she was watching a really important boss fight play out in real time.

"I don’t like loud people either," she added. “Or people who stand too close without asking.”

A breath escaped him- something like a laugh, though it barely had the strength. His shoulders dropped.

"...Thanks," he whispered.

Chiaki gave him a small nod, then paused her game.

“You can play with me... if you want. I can set it to co-op.”

"...What kind of game is it?"

“It’s not about fighting. It’s about surviving. Together.”

She handed him a second controller- one she kept just in case someone needed it. As (Y/N) took it with hesitant fingers, their shoulders barely touched. Just enough to feel that she was real. That she wasn’t going to hurt him. That maybe, just maybe, this was his save point.

Later that evening, they left the classroom together.

The hallways had mostly cleared out, but a few stragglers still lingered- clusters of students chatting near the lockers or at classroom doors. (Y/N) kept close to the wall, his steps quiet, but his eyes wide and alert. Chiaki walked just behind him, humming quietly under her breath. The soft beeps of her handheld console were gone now- packed away- replaced by the dull echo of footsteps and laughter bouncing off the walls.

Then he heard it.

A sharp burst of male laughter up ahead.

He tensed.

There were three boys, loud and animated, joking about something and shoving each other playfully in the corridor. They hadn’t seen him. They weren’t even facing his direction.

But his throat tightened anyway.

His vision blurred.

The sound of their voices grew sharper, more distorted, like a tape warping and speeding up all at once. His legs stuttered to a stop. His chest locked up. His fingers went numb.

And suddenly, he was ten years old again.

Back in that hallway. Back in that house. The smell of beer and smoke choking the air. The sound of his voice- (Y/N)’s knees nearly buckled.

“Hey…” Chiaki’s voice came gently, like a hand through water.

He didn’t respond.

Her hand touched his sleeve. “(Y/N). It’s okay. Breathe.”

His shoulders shook. His eyes locked on the boys ahead, even though they were already walking the other way.

“They’re not looking at you,” Chiaki whispered. “They’re not coming over. You’re safe.”

It was a simple sentence.

But it anchored him.

He sucked in a shaky breath, then another. His heart was still pounding like it wanted to burst out of his chest, but the ringing in his ears began to fade.

Chiaki didn’t say anything else. She didn’t ask what happened. She didn’t need to.

Instead, she stepped in front of him and held out her hand.

“Let’s take the long way back to the gates,” she said quietly. “Less noise. Fewer people.”

He stared at her hand.

It was small, delicate, and open. She wasn’t pushing it into his. She just held it there, offering.

After a moment, his fingers brushed hers- tentative, like he was still afraid he might break something just by being too close.

She gently curled her fingers around his.

Her grip wasn’t tight. It wasn’t controlling.

It was just... steady.

Safe.

They walked the long way around the school, down the side halls that smelled like books and chalk dust, past quiet windows tinted gold with the sunset. She didn’t let go.

At one point, she spoke again. Her voice was softer than before.

“You don’t have to talk about it. Not unless you want to.”

“I don’t know what to say,” he admitted.

“That’s okay. There are other ways to say things.” She gave a small squeeze to his hand. “Like staying. Or listening. Or letting someone walk with you.”

"...Thanks for walking with me."

Chiaki looked up at him, a small smile on her face, serene and real. “Thanks for letting me.”

And for the first time in a very long time...

(Y/N) didn’t feel like he was running.

He felt like he was choosing to walk.

Akane:

The cafeteria buzzed with the easy hum of student life- cliques forming in every corner, laughter and teasing flung across the bright afternoon. (Y/N) kept his head down, stirring the food on his tray without much thought. He sat at the farthest end of the cafeteria, away from the crowd, where the walls at least covered his back. Where he could see if anyone approached.

Most people didn’t. Most people knew he wasn’t exactly friendly.

And frankly, (Y/N) preferred it that way.

Another day where he could sit quietly and get through without an incident was a good day, by his standards. He flinched slightly when a chair scraped loudly against the floor nearby- too loud, too sudden- and his whole body stiffened instinctively.

When he glanced up, his stomach twisted. But then, calmed a bit as soon as his eyes met the scourse of the sound. It was Akane Owari, the wild, carefree Gymnast.

She plopped down into the chair next to him without even a hint of hesitation, swinging one leg over the other, holding a tray piled with food.

(Y/N) blinked in confusion.

"You’re not eating." Akane’s voice was casual but blunt, her brown eyes sharp even as she started shoveling food into her mouth without any embarrassment. "Why not? Food's good here. Kinda boring, but good."

(Y/N) opened his mouth, then shut it again. His throat felt tight. He didn’t know how to explain that sometimes eating was hard when everything inside felt wrong. That sometimes he could barely taste anything through the constant pit in his stomach.

Instead, he just muttered, "Not that hungry."

Akane squinted at him mid-bite. "You’re too scrawny," she said flatly, pointing her fork at him accusingly. "You’ll fall over if the wind blows the wrong way."

(Y/N) flushed and looked away. He wasn’t used to people pointing things out about his body- it made him feel exposed. Like when he was younger. When every flaw, every weakness, got punished.

A quiet panic itched under his skin. She’s too close. She’s loud. She’s noticing me.

But then something strange happened.

Akane... didn’t push. She didn’t laugh, or call attention to his weird reaction. She just kept eating, completely nonchalant, like sitting next to him wasn’t a big deal. Like he wasn’t some kind of freak to be tiptoed around or mocked.

Minutes passed. 

(Y/N) felt himself starting to breathe a little easier.

It wasn’t much. But it was something.

Finally, Akane broke the silence again, her voice softer this time. "You can sit with me at lunch, you know. If you want. ‘Cause... you look like you don’t got anybody."

Her words weren’t pitying. They were just honest.

(Y/N) stared at her, heart thudding painfully.

He wanted to trust her.

He wanted to believe in even a scrap of kindness.

But fear clawed up his throat, memories flashing too vividly- other people pretending to be nice, only to hurt him worse when he let his guard down. His hands trembled slightly under the table.

Akane must have noticed. Because she leaned back in her chair, hands up, palms facing him.

"No touching," she said, like it was a vow. "I don’t like it when people grab me without asking, either. So, uh... promise I won’t touch you unless you say it’s okay."

(Y/N)’s breath hitched.

For a moment, he couldn’t look at her. His eyes burned. He squeezed them shut tight.

When he finally managed to look again, Akane was just sitting there, lazily chewing a piece of chicken, like she hadn’t just casually offered him something he'd been craving for years.

Safety.

Choice.

A promise.

(Y/N) swallowed hard and gave the smallest, almost imperceptible nod.

Akane grinned at him, It wasn’t a teasing grin. It was warm. Friendly.

Like maybe she really meant it.

"Cool," she said. "You’re mine now. My lunch buddy."

And just like that, she went back to eating, talking between bites about all the weird crap she’d seen on TV lately, as if nothing had even happened.

Days bled into each other, and somehow, (Y/N) found himself... used to it. Used to Akane plopping down beside him at lunch. Used to her rambling about whatever crossed her mind- fights she watched, food she wanted, weird dreams she had.

He didn’t have to talk much, she didn’t expect him to.

And when he did say something, she listened like it mattered.

It was easy, in a way nothing else was. Easy enough that sometimes he forgot to be afraid when she sat too close. Easy enough that he didn’t flinch anymore when she burst out laughing or swung her arms wildly mid-story.

Until today.

Today was different.

He didn’t see it coming. 

Didn’t see the group of boys from some other Class rounding the corner, roughhousing like they always did. (Y/N) shrank instinctively when they passed too close, ducking his head, praying they wouldn’t notice him.

But of course- someone did.

One of them, a tall boy with spiked hair and a cocky grin, spotted him instantly.

"Hey," the guy barked, jabbing a finger toward (Y/N). "Didn’t know they let scared little rats into Hope’s Peak."

The group chuckled. (Y/N)’s heart slammed against his ribs. His chest constricted.

He tried to melt into the wall, praying they'd get bored. 

It never worked… It never worked.

"You hear me, freak?" the boy said louder, stepping closer. His shadow loomed over (Y/N). "You think you’re better than us, sittin' all quiet and weird? Huh?"

(Y/N) flinched without meaning to- sharp, instinctive, the way a kicked dog would. His breathing quickened, the old terror clawing at his spine. His palms were sweaty and cold at the same time.

"Leave him alone."

The voice cut through the air, sudden and razor-sharp.

(Y/N) barely had time to blink before Akane was there, standing between him and the guy, arms crossed, eyes narrowed in a way (Y/N) had never seen before. Her whole body radiated tension- an animalistic readiness, like a jungle cat ready to tear into something.

The boy sneered. "Relax... We’re just messing around."

Akane tilted her head, cracking her knuckles one by one. "Yeah? Well, I don’t like it." Her voice was deceptively light, almost lazy. "Pick on someone else. Before I break your jaw."

The guy hesitated- maybe realizing that yeah, Akane could and would break something if she wanted to. He scoffed, tossing his hands up in mock surrender, before shoving past his friends and slinking away.

The group followed quickly, none of them daring to meet her gaze.

As soon as they were gone, Akane turned back to (Y/N).

Her expression softened immediately. No anger, no impatience. Just concern.

"You okay?" she asked simply.

(Y/N) opened his mouth, but no sound came out. He was shaking- trembling- with the aftershocks of it all. But somehow, looking at her, he didn’t feel trapped. He didn’t feel like he was seconds from breaking.

He just felt... Seen. Protected.

(Y/N) squeezed his eyes shut, breathing in deep, trying to steady himself.

Akane didn’t touch him.

She didn’t crowd him.

Instead, she dropped into a crouch right in front of him, balancing easily on the balls of her feet. She tilted her head again, smiling a little, almost sheepishly.

"I’m not good at this, y'know," she said. "The whole 'comforting' thing. But I don’t like seeing you scared."

(Y/N) opened his eyes slowly. His voice was hoarse when he finally whispered, "Thank you."

Akane grinned wide, her nose scrunching up.

"Hey, that’s what you do for the people you care about, right?"

Care…

The word landed heavier than she probably meant it to.

(Y/N) nodded slowly- another tiny, shaky nod- but it was genuine this time.

Akane rocked back on her heels, then stood up and offered him her pinky, wiggling it in front of him like a kid.

"Pinky promise," she said. "If anybody messes with you again, I’ll kick their ass. No questions asked."

(Y/N) stared at her hand for a long moment.

Then, hesitantly, so carefully, he hooked his pinky around hers.

It was the first time in a long time he touched someone and didn’t flinch.

Akane beamed. "Good. Now c’mon. You’re my lunch buddy, and i'm starving.”

Junko:

The world felt too loud for (Y/N).

The clang of lockers, the shrill excitement of new students meeting for the first time, the ever-present hum of fluorescent lights overhead- it all blurred into static in his ears. Hope’s Peak Academy was supposed to be a fresh start, but even walking these polished halls, (Y/N) felt a sinking pit deep in his gut. His scars didn’t show, not the kind that mattered. They throbbed silently beneath his skin, invisible to everyone else.

Everyone except maybe her.

"Ugh, could this place be any more boring?" a voice rang out like a bell, sharp and sugary sweet.

(Y/N) flinched instinctively, his shoulders tensing. He turned his head just slightly, not enough to draw attention. There she was… Junko Enoshima.

The Ultimate Fashionista. Long, wild pigtails, flawless skin, a magnetic presence that seemed to bend the very air around her. She was perfect. Perfect like a mannequin.

But as (Y/N) stared a little longer, he caught it- just a flicker behind those brilliantly blue eyes… Calculation.

He quickly dropped his gaze to the floor, panic prickling at his spine. Men were dangerous. Women... Women could be dangerous too, but less so. Still, people noticing him usually ended badly. He hoped she hadn’t seen him.

Of course she had.

Junko’s smile widened just a fraction as she sauntered closer, balancing on those towering heels like she ruled the world. She leaned down, just a little, to meet his hidden, downward gaze.

"Heyyyy. You're new, huh? What's your name?" Sweet voice. Thick with manufactured innocence.

(Y/N) opened his mouth, but his voice barely made it past his lips, "(Y/N)..."

She tilted her head, feigning a dramatic gasp. "Awww, you're shy! That's soooooo adorable~!" Her words dripped with honey, but her eyes... Her eyes stripped him bare.

It made (Y/N) take a trembling step back, his body recoiling before he could even think. He hated how obvious his fear must have looked.

Something shifted in Junko’s expression- so quick he almost missed it.

Interest.

"Ohhh, I get it," she chirped, standing up straight again, a hand resting lightly on her hip, "You're, like... scared of people, right?"

(Y/N) said nothing… He didn't need to. His silence said it for him.

Junko's gaze sharpened imperceptibly. This wasn't just shyness. This was deep, festering hurt. She knew the signs better than anyone. After all, wasn't she the Ultimate Analyst underneath all this glitter and glam?

"So cuuuute..." she said again, her voice softer this time. Real, almost. 

And dangerous.

Without asking permission, she hooked her arm through his and tugged him along, her perfume clouding around him like a net.

"Don't worry! I'll protect you from all the big, scary boys around here~!" she teased, but there was something underneath the sing-song words. 

A promise. 

A threat.

(Y/N) wanted to pull away. Every instinct screamed for him to. But her hand was firm. Not rough, like others had been. Not yet. And deep down, a pitiful part of him ached- ached for someone to cling to.

Even if it was someone as terrifyingly unreadable as Junko Enoshima.

Days bled into one another like spilled ink.

At Hope’s Peak, (Y/N) learned the art of invisibility. Keep his head down. Hug the walls. Speak only when spoken to, and even then, softly enough to fade into the static. 

But Junko wouldn’t let him disappear.

Every day, without fail, she found him. In the cafeteria, at the library, even once at the back entrance by the vending machines. A flash of blonde hair, a chime of mock surprise- "Omg, you’re here toooo?"- and she was by his side, smiling like they were childhood friends.

She never asked questions he didn't want to answer. Never touched him roughly… But she watched.

Always watching.

(Y/N) didn’t know if it was comfort or terror that curled tighter around his ribs when she was near.

But then… Something happened…

It happened three weeks into the semester.

(Y/N) was carrying a stack of books back to his dorm, arms full, vision half-blocked by the heavy tomes. He was focused only on keeping his breathing steady, moving quick but quiet down the mostly empty hall.

He didn’t see the boy until the shove came.

The books went flying, pages scattering like frightened birds. (Y/N) stumbled back, barely catching himself on the wall.

A tall boy, one of the rougher upperclassmen- he didn't even know his name- loomed over him, smirking.

"Oops. Guess you're just as useless as you look," the guy laughed, his voice a booming, cruel sound that cut into (Y/N)’s gut like a blade.

(Y/N) froze.

No breath. No movement. Like a rabbit in a wolf’s jaws. He barely registered the boy stepping closer, sneering down at him with twisted amusement.

"You even supposed to be here, freak? Weren't you scouted like, super late?" A hand grabbed at the collar of his shirt.

And then- 

Click clack click clack.

The unmistakable rhythm of high heels against tile.

The boy barely had time to turn his head before Junko Enoshima was there, stepping between them like a sudden wildfire.

Her smile was dazzling. 

Deadly.

"Uwaaah~ That’s not very nice of you," she sang sweetly, twirling a strand of her hair. "Picking on poor little (Y/N) like that. Don’t you know he’s, like, mine?"

The hallway seemed to shrink, the air thickening like a storm cloud.

The boy scoffed. "Tch. Whatever. I was just messing around."

Junko’s smile widened, a flash of white teeth. 

Still sugary sweet.

Still ice cold.

"Oh, I know~ You were 'just messing around'," she cooed, voice dripping fake sympathy. "But see, I reeaaaaally hate it when people mess with my stuff. Like, reeeeeally hate it."

Her tone never rose. She didn’t yell, didn’t threaten. She simply existed- so vividly, so suffocatingly- that the boy instinctively stepped back.

Smart boy.

"Don't let me catch you 'messing around' again, 'kay?" she said with a little wink, like they were just two friends sharing a private joke.

The guy muttered something under his breath and stalked off, disappearing around the corner.

(Y/N) was still frozen against the wall, every nerve buzzing.

Junko turned to him then, her expression softening into something almost... human.

"You okay, sweetie?" she asked, crouching down and beginning to gather his scattered books without waiting for him to move.

(Y/N) opened his mouth. Closed it… Nodded once, stiffly.

Junko smiled- really smiled this time- and handed him the top book.

For a moment, their fingers brushed. He flinched, but Junko didn’t push it. Didn’t comment. She simply dusted off his sleeve, brushing off invisible dirt like he was something fragile.

"You know," she said airily as they walked side by side down the hall, "Next time someone tries that? Maybe I'll just break their fingers~."

(Y/N) turned his head, wide-eyed.

She laughed brightly at his expression. "Juuuust kidding!~" she chimed, but her eyes stayed cold and glittering.

Not kidding. 

Not at all.

And somewhere deep in his hollowed-out chest, (Y/N) felt a strange warmth ignite- a tiny, desperate spark. 

Because even if it was twisted- Even if it was dangerous- For the first time in a long, long time, someone had chosen to stand for him.

Even if that someone was Junko Enoshima.

Hello my friend! I have a good funny story request idea that you may like to do! Well I wanted to see you could do a headcanon/ story on the Demon Slayer Au x female!reader where they had a small argument with each other then the reader screams out how there aren’t very funny or loving because there either too serious, sad, rude, airhead or nice which shocks the Demon Slayer character. Then they decide to play a prank on the reader to prove them wrong ( it can be any type of prank from making them food with something their allergic to plus funny ingredients, trying to scare them, dress up in something silly, pretending to have amnesia and etc). But when their prank is over instead of getting a laugh or apologize; the reader would either get hurt/hospitalized (physically or emotionally), angry, cry, annoyed and even threaten to leave them ( is also joking as well) which causes them to feel guilty, like a jerk or beg for forgiveness?!!~ (It’s up to you whether or not they forgive them or not!)🤭😅❤️‍🔥✨

A/N: Of course, @lelewright1234! I made ths one a oneshot, since the other two you requested are headcanons :}

Terrible Prank- Better Apology

Tanjiro, Inosuke, Zenitsu, Nezuko, and Genya x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Physical Injury, Mentions of Leaving/Breakup Threats, and Miscommunication

Word Count: 4767

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

Tanjiro:

The morning sun crept through the paper-paneled windows, the scent of freshly baked bread lingered in the air. Laughter echoed faintly down the hallway as Zenitsu teased Inosuke, and Nezuko hummed while tending to the garden.

But in the center of the house, things weren’t quite so peaceful.

“I’m just saying, Tanjiro,” (Y/N) huffed, crossing her arms as she stood in the kitchen doorway, “you don’t always have to be so perfect all the time.”

Tanjiro blinked, confused, ladle still in hand from making soup. “Perfect? I don’t think I’m-”

“You are!” (Y/N) cut in, voice rising in frustration. “You’re too kind, too polite, too... I don’t know, nice! You’re never mad, never sarcastic, never playful- how do you expect people to relax around you when you’re always one step away from offering a moral lesson?”

The kitchen went silent, save for the gentle bubbling of miso soup.

Tanjiro's eyebrows furrowed. “But… I’m just trying to keep the peace. I like being kind to the people I care about. Especially you.”

(Y/N)’s throat tightened, but she forged on. “I know you care, but it’s like... you never joke with me. You don’t tease, you don’t play around. Sometimes it feels like you're scared to just be real.”

Then she added- too loudly and too emotionally- “You’re not even that funny or loving, honestly!”

As soon as the words left her mouth, she regretted it. Tanjiro’s eyes flickered with something quiet and deep- not anger, but woundedness.

“…I see,” he said softly.

“No- wait, I didn’t mean-” (Y/N) began, but Tanjiro simply nodded, setting the ladle down with a calm gentleness that somehow felt heavier than a slammed door.

That Afternoon, (Y/N) looked around for Tanjiro, but… She couldnt find him, anywhere.

“...He hasn’t said anything to you?” (Y/N) asked Nezuko in a hushed voice as she watered the bonsai plants. Nezuko gave a tiny shake of her head and shrugged.

(Y/N) sighed, heart heavy. The argument had been stupid. She hadn’t meant to accuse him of being unloving- she just wanted to see a messier, funnier side of him. To know he could be silly or imperfect around her.

Just once.

And it seemed, maybe, Tanjiro had taken that challenge to heart… Even so, she kept looking.

“Hey… Inosuke, where’s Tanjiro?” (Y/N) asked, glancing around the dinner table as she sat down. Zenitsu paused with a mouthful of rice halfway to his lips.

“Oh, didn’t you hear?” Zenitsu said, chewing. “He hit his head earlier- fell on a wet step outside.”

(Y/N)’s eyes widened. “What?!”

“Yeah,” Inosuke chimed in, grinning. “And now he doesn’t remember anything. Doesn’t even know who you are.”

(Y/N) bolted from the table, heartbeat pounding.

She found him sitting on the porch, a serene smile on his face, moonlight painting his skin. He turned to them with wide eyes- gentle, unfamiliar.

“Oh. Hello. Are you a friend of the family?”

(Y/N) stopped in her tracks. “…Tanjiro?”

He tilted his head. “I was told that’s my name. You’re… (Y/N), right?”

Her heart twisted. “You don’t remember me?”

Tanjiro smiled sweetly, with not a hint of recognition. “Sorry.”

Days later, the amnesia act continued.

Tanjiro asked the same innocent questions over and over: where they had met, what they meant to each other, what her favorite color was. (Y/N) answered every time with a trembling voice and a forced smile. On the third night, she cried herself to sleep.

Zenitsu started looking guilty. Inosuke avoided her eyes.

By the fourth day, (Y/N) broke.

She stood up from their shared porch bench, voice shaky. “Alright, Tanjiro. You win.”

Tanjiro blinked. “Win what?”

“You’re funny. You’re playful. You got me, okay? Real good prank. Hilarious,” she said, voice cracking. “Except I guess I was wrong when I called you too nice. Because no one that kind would do this to someone they love.”

She turned away, rubbing at her eyes furiously.

“I’m leaving tomorrow. Maybe not forever- but definitely long enough to figure out how I let myself fall for someone who thinks this is funny.”

Her voice dropped, half-joking, half-dead serious:

“…Hope it’s worth it.”

She didn’t wait for a response. She walked inside, quietly shutting the door behind them.

Late that same night, there was a soft knock on her door.

(Y/N) rolled over, wiping dried tears from her cheek. “Go away.”

“It’s me,” Tanjiro’s voice said. And it was his voice- not the stranger from the porch, but the one she knew. Warm, guilt-ridden, real.

The door creaked open. He stepped in, candle in hand, and shut the door behind him.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I thought... maybe if I showed you I could be playful, you'd laugh. And we could make up. I didn’t think it would hurt you like this.”

(Y/N) stayed quiet.

He sank to his knees beside the futon. “I missed you. Even when I was pretending not to know you- I missed the real us. Every time you looked sad, or forced a smile, it made my stomach twist.”

(Y/N)’s voice was soft. “Then why didn’t you stop?”

“I was afraid you wouldn’t forgive me,” he admitted.

There was silence between them.

Finally, (Y/N) sighed. “You’re a dummy, Tanjiro Kamado.”

His lips twitched. “I am.”

“And a bad actor.”

“I know.”

“And I still love you.”

His breath caught. Then he leaned forward, resting his forehead against hers, eyes closed. “I love you too. Always. Even when I’m too nice. Even when I mess up.”

(Y/N) snorted. “You’re allowed to mess up, Tanjiro. Just… not like that again.”

He nodded solemnly. “No more fake amnesia.”

“Good.”

A beat of silence.

“…Unless I need an excuse to get out of helping Inosuke with his… Nature stuff,” he added hopefully.

(Y/N) laughed, smacking his arm.

And just like that, the tension cracked- and love slipped in, soft and sure.

The next morning, Zenitsu glanced up from his tea as (Y/N) entered the kitchen with Tanjiro behind her, arms wrapped around her waist, chin resting on her shoulder.

“…So, did he get his memory back?” Zenitsu asked innocently.

(Y/N) grinned. “Nope. Still thinks he’s hilarious.”

Tanjiro just laughed and kissed her cheek.

Inosuke:

The forest was still, too still for (Y/N)’s liking.

The soft chirps of crickets were the only sounds keeping her company as her walked along the dirt path, surrounded by towering trees and the dim glow of moonlight. The mission was over, the demon slain, and the village safe again. But (Y/N)’s shoulders remained tense- because the most exhausting part of the evening wasn’t the battle.

It was Inosuke.

“Could you please not charge in next time without a plan?” (Y/N) asked, for what felt like the fifth time that day, her arms crossed tight across her chest.

Inosuke grunted in response, leaping over a rock and puffing out his chest like a peacock. “I didn’t need a plan! I WON! HAHA!” he declared, full of pride, his boar mask swinging from one hand. “You’re just mad ‘cause you didn’t get the final hit!”

(Y/N) rolled her eyes so hard it almost gave her a headache. “I’m mad because you almost got your head bitten off, you idiot!”

He turned toward her, that wild, half-mischievous, half-oblivious look on his face. “Then you would’ve been the one crying, huh? All like, ‘Oh nooo, my big strong wild man got himself eaten- waaah!’”

“I’d be crying of relief because I’d finally have some peace and quiet!”

That shut him up- if only for a moment. But when (Y/N) saw him frowning in confusion rather than embarrassment, something inside her snapped.

“You’re-!” she shouted, fists clenching. “You’re not even loving! You’re just... some wild airhead who acts like a rabid raccoon on a sugar rush!”

“HUH?! I’m totally loving!! I let you sleep on my arm that one time, didn’t I?!”

“That’s because you passed out mid-conversation!”

“Well... still counts!”

“No, it doesn’t!”

(Y/N) turned around and stomped off down the trail, fuming, ignoring the way the leaves crunched under her boots. Inosuke stayed back for a second, scratching his head, visibly baffled.

He’d seen her mad before, but never like this.

“Hmph. She thinks I’m not loving?” he muttered to himself, then suddenly smirked. “I’ll show ‘er loving. I’ll love ‘er so much, she’ll scream.”

Inosuke had a plan. A brilliant, perfect plan.

It involved a dead deer skull he’d found earlier, some long branches, a cloak soaked in dark mud, and his natural ability to hide in trees like a very aggressive bird.

He waited until (Y/N) had cooled off and was sitting at their shared campsite, fanning the flames of the small fire with a quiet pout still on her face.

Then- BAM!

A bloodcurdling shriek echoed from the treetops as something monstrous launched from the shadows. Mud, bone, and antlers flashed. (Y/N) screamed and scrambled back, drawing her blade by instinct. Her heart nearly leapt out of her chest.

Then-

The “creature” tripped over a root and faceplanted in front of her.

“HAHA! GOTCHA!” Inosuke leapt up, flinging off the deer skull and mud-caked cloak with a triumphant grin. “See?? Bet your heart’s racing! That’s love, baby!”

(Y/N) just stared at him. No laughter. No playful push. Just silence... and slowly rising anger.

She stood stiffly, brushing leaves and dirt off her clothes with trembling hands.

“You...” she began, voice shaking. “You scared the absolute hell out of me, Inosuke!”

He blinked, grin faltering. “Well, yeah! That was the point! It’s funny, right? Right?”

“You think traumatizing me is funny?!” she snapped, backing away a few steps. “You know what? I’m done. I’m so done. I’m going to pack up my things and leave. You can marry that deer skull and live happily ever after with your mud cloak.”

“Wait- WHAAAT?!”

“I hope you and Mrs. Deer Bone have a great life together.”

Inosuke looked genuinely terrified now. “No no no, wait, wait- (Y/N)! Come on! It was just a joke! You’re not really leaving, are you?!”

(Y/N) turned dramatically, starting to walk away.

Inosuke scrambled after them, dropping to his knees. “Okay, I’m sorry!! Please don’t go! You can punch me in the face! Kick me in the ribs! Stab me in the arm! Wait, no, not the arm, I need that- BUT STILL!! I’M SORRY!!”

(Y/N) stopped.

She turned, arms crossed again, raising a brow. “So now you’re saying sorry?”

“YES! I mean... yeah! I didn’t mean to make you mad, I just...” he fidgeted, looking anywhere but at her. “I thought if I could make you scream and laugh and forget being mad at me, then you’d know I care. But... I guess that wasn’t the smartest way.”

(Y/N) exhaled, finally letting her shoulders drop.

“I was never actually going to leave, you dumb boar,” she said softly. “But gods, Inosuke... you’ve got to learn how to show you care without nearly giving me a heart attack.”

He stood, slowly padding forward with his head low.

“Then... how do I show you?” he asked, for once not shouting or charging. Just curious. Soft.

(Y/N) walked over and gently took his hand, still stained with mud.

“This. Talking. Listening. Just be with me. Not hiding in trees trying to traumatize me.”

“...But trees are so cool, though-”

“Inosuke-”

“Okay! Okay! No more tree-jumping monsters!” He grinned sheepishly. “...Unless you want one.”

(Y/N) snorted, pulling him into a hug. “You’re impossible.”

His arms wrapped around her tightly, face pressed into her shoulder. “Yeah... but I’m your impossible.”

Zenitsu:

The sun filtered gently through the cracks in the wooden shutters, bathing the room in golden light. The safe house was unusually quiet this afternoon- Tanjiro and Inosuke were off training, Nezuko was napping peacefully in her box, and that left just Zenitsu and (Y/N) to occupy the space.

And that… was not going well.

“You always run away!” (Y/N)’s voice cut through the silence, sharp and frustrated.

Zenitsu flinched as if she'd thrown something at him. “I don’t always run away! I-I just... use tactical retreat when necessary!”

“Tactical retreat? You screamed and climbed on my head, Zenitsu!”

“That demon was horrifying!” Zenitsu wailed, gripping his own hair. “It had four arms and teeth where its eyes should be!”

“And I had to take care of it while you were shaking like a leaf behind a bush!” (Y/N) crossed her arms, exasperated. “I’m not saying you’re not brave when it counts, but when you act like this all the time- it doesn’t exactly scream ‘loving and protective boyfriend,’ Zenitsu!”

The words hit him like a slap, his wide amber eyes growing misty. “You don’t think I’m loving?”

(Y/N) sighed, rubbing her forehead. “Zenitsu... I love you. But you’re such a scaredy cat sometimes! And it hurts because I feel like I can’t depend on you unless you’re unconscious and lightning-charged.”

Zenitsu stood there, stunned, lower lip wobbling.

(Y/N) groaned. “I need to go cool off.” She stormed out of the room, sliding the door shut a bit too hard.

Later that day, Zenitsu paced in the hallway with his hands behind his back, muttering to himself.

“Scaredy cat... scaredy cat... I’ll show her scaredy cat... I’m going to prove I can be fun and loving. I’ll do something bold! Something dramatic! Something... memorable!”

It was then that he spotted a costume closet one of the Kakushi used for festivals. His eyes gleamed with mischief. An idea bloomed in his head, outrageous and ridiculous- and perfect.

Later, when (Y/N) returned from a walk, calmer now. Her fingers trailed along the hallway walls, the air carrying the scent of tea and clean wood. She was already planning what to say when she saw Zenitsu again- something like “I’m sorry for being harsh,” or “I know you’re trying.”

But then-

“RAWR!”

A creature leapt from behind a sliding door, arms flailing and covered in bright, ridiculous fabrics. Zenitsu had somehow forced himself into a lion onesie, complete with fuzzy tail and painted whiskers. He charged with a roar that sounded like a cat having a coughing fit.

(Y/N) screamed- not in amusement, but in raw, startled panic.

She tripped over a rock, fell hard on her side, and rolled a bit before groaning in pain.

Zenitsu dropped the fake roar instantly. “(Y/N)!!” He scrambled over in his fuzzy lion getup, paw-gloves flailing. “Oh no oh no oh no-! I didn’t mean to scare you like that!”

(Y/N) sat up, wincing. Her arm was scraped, her knee had caught the worst of the fall, and a forming bruise throbbed under her robes.

“I was trying to make you laugh! I thought-! I just wanted to prove I could be brave and... fun and... romantic and-!” Zenitsu’s bottom lip trembled again, eyes glassy. “I didn’t mean to hurt you…”

(Y/N) blinked at him- at the giant lion suit, the silly little ears, the dumb tail, and his completely crumpled expression.

“I should leave,” she said solemnly.

Zenitsu let out a strangled noise. “NO! Don’t go! Please- I’m sorry- I’ll throw the suit away- I’ll be serious- I’ll go punch a demon in the face right now- I-”

“I meant leave you, not the house,” (Y/N) interrupted, deadpan.

Zenitsu looked like a kicked puppy.

“I’m joking, you ridiculous fuzzy idiot.”

Zenitsu blinked.

Then (Y/N) chuckled softly. “You really thought dressing up like that would make me laugh?”

He nodded sheepishly. “I wanted to be a brave lion boyfriend.”

(Y/N) shook her head, wincing again as she moved. “You’re lucky I love you.”

Zenitsu moved to help her up, all dramatics gone now, just soft and apologetic. “You... do still love me, right?”

She leaned heavily against him, hand resting on his fuzzy chest. “Of course I do. Even if you’re a bit of a coward, even if you’re dramatic... You always try. And that means a lot.”

Zenitsu flushed a deep scarlet, holding her tighter than the lion suit allowed. “I promise I’ll do better. I’ll be there next time- no matter how scary it is.”

(Y/N) smiled against his shoulder. “Just don’t dress like a circus act again, and we’ll be fine.”

“Deal.”

Later that night, Zenitsu sat by the futon, gently dabbing at (Y/N)’s scraped knee with some ointment.

“You’re lucky Tanjiro isn’t here. He’d be so disappointed in me.”

“He would lecture you about safety and emotional responsibility,” (Y/N) mused.

Zenitsu winced dramatically. “Ugh, even worse than fighting a demon.”

(Y/N) reached out and pulled him into bed beside her, sighing contentedly.

“I guess I do have a pretty loving boyfriend,” she mumbled sleepily. “Even if he’s a ridiculous coward.”

Zenitsu blushed as he pulled the blanket over both of them.

“...I love you too, you bruised-up gremlin.”

“Goodnight, lion boy.”

“...Rawr.”

Nezuko:

The sky was pale and overcast when the argument began. Spring usually meant new life, blooming trees, and bright sun filtering through clouds. But today? The wind was a little too sharp, and the air carried a tension that matched the sudden silence in the Kamado household.

"You always act like everything's perfect, Nezuko," (Y/N) snapped, turning away from the young demon-turned-human, arms crossed. "Like nothing ever bothers you. Like... you're always calm. Always sweet. Always too good to be real."

Nezuko stood still, mouth slightly open. Her soft pink eyes blinked once, then twice, hurt flickering across them like a candle guttering in the wind.

"But I am real," she said softly.

"Yeah, and I love you- I do. But sometimes I feel like... you’re not really here. Like you don’t feel the way I do. You’re so perfect all the time that I feel like I’m the only one who's ever angry or jealous or scared. And I hate that! I hate how you never screw up, how you never mess up, never yell- never even sweat under pressure. I hate that I’m the messy one in this-"

(Y/N)'s voice cracked, and she sucked in a breath.

"...I feel like I’m the only one trying sometimes."

Nezuko's lips parted, but no sound came out. Her fingers clenched at her sides, a dozen replies dying in her throat. She didn’t want to cry- not in front of (Y/N), who was already trembling from the weight of their confession.

"I’m not very loving," (Y/N) added bitterly. "Not like you. Because you're... you’re too perfect."

And just like that, she turned and stormed out onto the porch, leaving Nezuko alone in the kitchen, her heart quietly shattering beneath her ribs.

Later that night, Nezuko sat curled up on the tatami mat, frowning into a bowl of ingredients. She didn’t cry- crying wouldn’t fix it. But she was bothered. Maybe she hadn’t realized how distant she'd felt to (Y/N) lately. Maybe her quiet nature- once a comfort- was starting to feel like a wall.

"Too perfect, huh?" she whispered to herself.

A mischievous glint entered her eyes.

"Well... maybe I should show her I’m not that perfect."

She cracked her knuckles, glancing at the small box of dango flour and the recipe for (Y/N)'s favorite sweet- matcha mochi. But this time... she had a special ingredient in mind.

Nezuko grinned as she reached for the spice shelf.

"Wasabi... just a little prank."

The next afternoon, she presented the mochi like it was a peace offering. Green, soft, dusted with rice flour. Perfectly handmade.

(Y/N) was still a little raw from the fight, curled on the edge of the porch with her arms around her knees, watching clouds pass overhead.

"...I made you something," Nezuko said gently, nudging the plate into her view.

(Y/N) looked up, hesitant. "Mochi?"

Nezuko nodded innocently. "Your favorite. Matcha. With extra love."

There was a beat of silence. Then (Y/N) gave a small, lopsided smile. "You’re trying to bribe me with sweets, huh?"

"...Maybe."

She took one without much thought, bit in- and immediately froze.

Nezuko tried not to laugh too soon, but she saw her eyes widen comically and a sputter leave her lips.

"W-What the hell is in this?" (Y/N) gagged. "Is this... is this wasabi?!"

Nezuko burst out laughing, holding her sides. "Got you!"

"You little-" (Y/N) laughed too at first, nervously, wiping her tongue. "Nezuuuko!"

But then she stopped.

And blinked.

Nezuko’s laughter faltered.

"...You okay?"

(Y/N)’s face turned a little red- no, splotchy. She reached toward her throat.

"Shit."

She stood quickly, stumbling. "Nezuko- I-I'm- I'm allergic to wasabi-"

Her eyes went wide in horror.

"What?!"

Nezuko grabbed herinstantly, guiding her back inside. "Why didn’t you tell me?!"

"You’re not supposed to put prank spices in my favorite food!" she croaked, wheezing as she dug into her bag for her emergency medication.

It wasn’t a severe allergy- thankfully. Just enough to make her tongue swell, her face puff slightly, and breathing get mildly tight. But it was enough to scare the hell out of Nezuko.

As she downed the medicine and slumped back into a seated position, fanning her mouth with her hand, she gave Nezuko a sharp side-eye.

"That was evil, Kamado. I’m breaking up with you. I’m going to go find a quiet, boring farmer girl who can cook without trying to kill me."

"...No you're not." Nezuko’s voice cracked, her hands trembling as she tried to steady the cup of water for (Y/N).

"You don’t know that," (Y/N) teased weakly, though she were already leaning into her.

Nezuko placed the cup down, then sat beside her, face pale and tight with guilt.

"...I was trying to be funny. Trying to prove I wasn’t perfect. That I do mess up. But I didn’t want this."

(Y/N) chuckled, still half-wheezing. "Well, you definitely proved it."

Nezuko dropped her face into her hands. "I’m sorry. So, so sorry. I didn’t think- I didn’t even ask-"

(Y/N) leaned into her, resting her head against her shoulder, breath finally starting to come easier.

"I forgive you."

Nezuko looked up slowly, shocked.

(Y/N) gave her a small, crooked grin. "...You were trying to reach me. That’s what matters. Even if you nearly poisoned me doing it."

She let out a weak giggle.

Nezuko blinked a few times, and suddenly threw her arms around them, burying her face in her shoulder.

"You scared me..." she whispered.

"You scared me, too."

Silence fell between them for a moment, but it was warmer now. Closer.

"...Can I still cook for you?" Nezuko murmured after a while.

(Y/N) groaned dramatically. "Only if you promise never to go near wasabi again."

She nodded solemnly. "Deal."

"Also... maybe let’s both stop pretending. You don’t have to be perfect. And I don’t have to be the mess. We’re allowed to meet halfway."

Nezuko smiled into her neck.

"I love you, imperfections and all."

(Y/N) smirked. "Good. ‘Cause this relationship is definitely messy now."

Nezuko giggled, and for the first time that day, (Y/N) genuinely laughed with her.

Genya:

They were in the middle of a quiet clearing, sun filtering through the treetops above them. The scent of pine and moss lingered in the warm breeze, and for a moment, it felt like the world had paused. No demons, no missions, just stillness.

Except… not really.

“You know, you never joke around,” (Y/N) muttered, crouched over the small fire pit she was trying to light. “Always so serious. It's like you’re afraid your face will crack if you smile too hard.”

Genya, sharpening his blade nearby, tensed visibly. “What the hell does that even mean?”

(Y/N) blew at an ember from within the fire and glanced at him. “It means you're not very… loving. You’re all ‘training’ this and ‘focus’ that, but never ‘Hey, (Y/N), I care about you’ or even ‘you look cute today.’ You’re like a really buff rock with a grudge.”

That got him. His eyes flicked up, brows furrowed deep.

“That's not fair,” he muttered. “Just 'cause I don’t say stuff like that doesn't mean I don't care.”

(Y/N) stood up now, hands on her hips. “Then show it once in a while, Genya. I'm not asking for poetry. Just… affection. A little fun. You’re always acting like smiling is illegal.”

Genya stood, jaw clenched, flustered and defensive. “I ain’t unloving! Just ‘cause I ain’t goofy doesn’t mean I don’t-”

But (Y/N) had already walked away, huffing, “Whatever.”

The argument settled into an awkward silence between them for the rest of the evening. But Genya couldn’t get her words out of his head. Too serious. Not loving. That stung. He wasn’t like his brother, sure, but he wasn’t heartless.

So... he got an idea. A stupid idea.

The next morning, (Y/N) woke up to an empty camp. She stretched and yawned, only to find a strange trail of bloodied feathers and ripped fabric leading into the forest. Her heart dropped.

"Genya?!" she called, already grabbing her weapon.

No answer.

Panic rising, she followed the trail- only for a blur to come rushing out of the bushes with a loud screech.

"DEMON!!" she screamed, drawing her blade-

-and immediately tripping over a random stick that was on the ground.

She went down hard, rolling down a small slope, crashing into a fallen log with a sickening crack.

"SHIT- (Y/N)!" Genya's voice cut through the trees as he dropped the silly makeshift costume of torn fabric and fake teeth.

He practically leapt down after her, heart hammering in his throat. (Y/N) groaned, clutching her ankle, which was visibly twisted. Her arm was scraped raw and bleeding, and there were bruises forming fast.

“You absolute jackass,” she hissed, eyes watering from pain and rage. “What the hell kind of prank is that?! I could’ve broken my neck!”

“I-I didn’t think you’d actually fall- shit, I didn’t mean-”

“Oh, don’t give me that face,” she snapped, trying and failing to sit up without wincing. “This was totally uncalled for.”

Genya hovered, guilt flooding every inch of his body. His hand shook as he touched her arm gently.

“I was just… I was tryin’ to show you I could be fun. That I ain’t too serious. I thought… if I could scare you a little, you’d laugh at it after. I was tryin’ to be less stiff for once.”

(Y/N) glared at him, then muttered, “Well, congrats. You broke me instead. Maybe I should leave your ass after all. Find a Hashira with a sense of humor.”

That hit him harder than any demon ever had. His expression crumbled.

“…You don’t mean that,” he said quietly.

She looked at him for a long moment… and then sighed, a small smirk forming despite her pain. “Of course I don’t. Dumbass.”

Genya blinked.

“…Wait, so… you’re not actually leaving?”

“No, Genya,” she said softly. “You’re lucky I love you. Just maybe… stick to jokes that don’t involve fake demon attacks next time?”

He exhaled with a laugh- relieved, guilty, and embarrassed all at once.

“Yeah. Yeah, I get it. I really messed up.”

“You really did.”

He crouched beside her, lifting her injured arm gently and pulling out a small jar of salve. “Let me patch you up. And I’ll carry you back. I owe you.”

(Y/N) leaned into his side a little, her voice softer now. “You know… that was kinda loving. In a Genya sort of way.”

“…Yeah?”

“Yeah. Just don’t do it again, or I’ll punch you.”

He chuckled quietly, resting his forehead against hers for a moment. “Deal.”

Later that night, after she was fully bandaged and resting on a pile of blankets near the fire, he came over with something behind his back.

“…What’s that?” she asked suspiciously.

He revealed a crude bouquet of wildflowers, tied together with some thread. “I… uh… picked these. Earlier. Before the dumb prank. Just didn’t know how to give ‘em to you.”

(Y/N)’s lips twitched into a crooked smile. “You’re seriously trying the soft-boy act now?”

He shrugged, ears turning red. “Just shut up and take the damn flowers.”

And she did- with a smirk, a kiss to his cheek, and a mumbled, “You’re still a dumbass, but you’re my dumbass.”

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.

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!

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.

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.”