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A/N: Hello everyone! This is the second to last chapter of my Young Silco Fic! I'm going to be making another one after, though. A sequel, that continues the fic. This chapter has smut in it, so ill put some warnings before the smut, so it can be skipped :}
pt.1
Summary: After a quiet moment caring for baby Violet, (Y/N) finds Silco brooding alone, burdened by his fear of breaking the fragile things he’s come to care for. Their emotional connection deepens as (Y/N) reassures him of her love and trust. Back at her room, that tenderness unfolds into their first time together- soft, reverent, and slow, with Silco treating her with overwhelming care. Her magic flares with emotion but stays controlled, mirroring the depth of their bond. In the morning, subtle marks of their night together spark teasing from friends, and Silco's quiet protectiveness becomes even more apparent. The day continues with routine- (Y/N) working in the mines while Silco walks her partway, worried but trusting her strength. But on her way home, (Y/N) is ambushed by Enforcers. Brutalized and humiliated, she chooses not to retaliate with magic, still haunted by what happened the last time. Bloodied and shaken but defiant, she returns to The Last Drop.
The bar was still and quiet again, the low creak of floorboards the only sound as (Y/N) gently patted Violet’s back. The baby let out a small, satisfied burp against her shoulder, then went limp in the way only newborns could- completely trusting, utterly unaware of the chaos and love she’d been born into.
“Alright, little fire cracker,” she murmured softly, brushing her nose against Violet’s forehead. “Let’s get you back to your mom before you start thinking I’m your favorite.”
Felicia was already awake and half-dressed when (Y/N) eased open the door to the guest room. She looked groggy, hair a mess, but her expression softened immediately at the sight of Violet.
“Gimme,” she whispered, arms already outstretched.
(Y/N) chuckled and transferred the baby gently into her waiting hands. “She’s warm, fed, and already burped. I’m spoiling her for you.”
Felicia smirked sleepily. “You’re spoiling me, you mean.” She glanced down at her daughter, cradling her close. “Thanks.”
“Always.”
They shared a quiet look, something warm and wordless passing between them. Then (Y/N) turned, brushing her hands down the front of her borrowed shirt and heading for the door again.
“I’m gonna go find the brooding menace,” she said over her shoulder.
Felicia rolled her eyes. “Tell him if he doesn’t come back soon, I’m making him take a night shift with Violet.”
(Y/N) snorted and slipped out.
The streets of the Undercity were hushed, still heavy with morning fog and the metallic tang of distant factory steam. Most of the Lanes hadn’t stirred yet. There was a kind of peace in it- a rare, stretched-out quiet that blanketed the grime and noise like a breath held just under the surface.
(Y/N) walked with practiced ease through the Undercity, eyes sharp despite the stillness. She knew him. Knew how he vanished when emotions crept too close to the surface. He wouldn’t have gone far. Silco liked proximity- liked to be close enough to protect, even when he needed distance.
She found him on one of the upper walkways that overlooked the Lanes, hands braced on the rusting railing, shoulders hunched against the damp. His vest was still wrinkled from earlier, and his sleeves were rolled to the elbows, catching the pale light.
He didn’t turn when she approached. Didn’t have to.
“You always gonna keep brooding like this,” she said softly, “or is it just when I hand you a baby?”
His shoulders lifted with a slow inhale, then dropped again. “You didn’t just hand me a baby,” he said, voice low.
(Y/N) moved to stand beside him, her fingers curling around the railing. “No?”
“You handed me… innocence,” he said after a moment. “Something soft. Fragile.” He looked down at his hands. “Something I could break.”
She watched him for a beat. “But you didn’t.”
He finally looked at her then. His eyes were tired, but alert. Thoughtful. “Not this time.”
(Y/N) leaned sideways, letting her shoulder brush against his. “You won’t break her. Or me.”
Silco was quiet for a long moment. “You’re good with her.”
“She’s easy to love,” she murmured, then looked up at him. “So are you.”
He gave her a long, unreadable look. His throat bobbed, but no words came.
(Y/N) stepped in front of him, slipping her arms around his waist, fingers gripping the back of his shirt. “You don’t have to say it back,” she whispered, head against his chest. “I know.”
His arms came around her slowly, settling against her back like he’d been holding in the urge. His chin dropped to the top of her head.
“I do love you…” he said quietly. “You just say it better.”
(Y/N) smiled against his chest. “I love you too, Sil.”
His arms tightened.
They stood like that for a while, the silence comfortable, the city still.
Eventually, he pulled back just enough to look at her. “You’re going to ruin me,” he said, a rare softness breaking through the steel of his voice.
“You were already ruined,” she teased gently. “I’m just making you tolerable.”
That earned her a rare, real laugh- quiet and low, but genuine.
He leaned in and kissed her, soft and slow, no urgency- just a kind of reverence, like he didn’t know what he’d done to deserve this moment but wasn’t about to waste it.
When they finally parted, he looked down at her with something close to awe.
“…If I ever lost you,” he murmured, “I don’t know who I’d become.”
(Y/N) reached up, brushing her thumb along his jaw. “You won’t.”
Silco held her gaze for a long time, then nodded once, like he was making a promise to himself more than her.
“Come on,” she said, lacing her fingers through his. “Let’s go home. Felicia said if you don’t show up soon, she’s putting you on night duty.”
He groaned softly, but didn’t protest as she led him back toward the warmth of the bar- of home.
The walk back was quiet.
Not heavy, not tense- just quiet. A kind of hush reserved for early mornings and moments where the world felt like it had stopped turning just for them.
The bar was dim when they returned. A few soft clinks from Vander in the kitchen, the distant creak of Connol’s footsteps above, but otherwise it was still. Home, in all its chaotic, grimy glory, was resting. So were they.
Silco followed her upstairs without a word, his hand loosely in hers.
When they reached her room, (Y/N) pushed open the door, letting the familiar scent of worn linen and smoke-sweet air rush out to greet them. It wasn’t a large space, but it was hers- warm, slightly cluttered, the windows cracked open just enough to let the city’s breath in.
She shrugged off her boots, and climbed into her bed. Silco slid in beside her, his vest undone, sleeves still rolled. Neither of them said much as she pulled a cigarette out, and lit it with a quick flicker of her magic, the faint sulfur glow lighting her features in amber.
She took a slow drag, then passed it to him.
Silco accepted it between two fingers, his hand brushing hers as he inhaled. The smoke curled in the air above them, trailing toward the ceiling like a shared secret.
They lay back on the bed, shoulders just touching, the world outside forgotten for now.
(Y/N) turned her head, watching the lazy way his chest rose and fell. He looked softer like this- less of the sharp angles, less of the weight he wore so carefully. Just Silco. Just hers.
He offered her the cigarette again, and she took it with a small smile, letting the smoke settle into her lungs before passing it back.
“You ever think,” she murmured, voice low, “about how different things could’ve been if we met somewhere else?”
Silco exhaled, slow and quiet. “If we met anywhere else,” he said, voice rough around the edges, “you wouldn’t have stayed.”
(Y/N) arched a brow. “Oh?”
He glanced sideways at her, a ghost of a smirk playing on his lips. “You like things messy.”
She huffed a laugh. “Maybe I just like you messy.”
He let that hang in the air for a second before reaching over to stub out the cigarette in the small dish on her nightstand.
Then, without a word, he shifted closer, wrapping one arm around her waist and pulling her flush against him. His fingers spread wide against her back, warm and grounding. She settled against his chest with a quiet hum, her hand sliding up to cup his face.
Silco leaned into the touch almost imperceptibly, his lashes lowering as she brushed her thumb over his cheekbone.
(Y/N) leaned up slowly, their noses nearly touching, and pressed her forehead to his.
“I really do love you,” she whispered. “You know that, right?”
His breath caught.
He didn’t say it back- not because he didn’t feel it, but because her words settled too deep, cracked something open in him every time. Instead, he kissed her. Soft and slow, a promise more than passion.
When he pulled back, he didn’t go far.
He tucked his face into the crook of her neck, his breath warm against her skin, and just… stayed there. Let himself exist in her space, unguarded.
(Y/N) held him, her fingers tracing lazy lines up and down his back, anchoring him without needing to speak.
The silence between them stretched, comfortable and close. (Y/N)’s fingers stayed tangled in the fabric of his shirt, absently toying with a loose thread while Silco breathed steadily against her throat.
Then, slowly, he began to move.
Soft kisses, barely-there at first, pressed along the curve of her neck. One at the hollow of her throat. Another just beneath her jaw. Gentle, deliberate.
(Y/N) let out a quiet breath, tilting her head slightly, exposing more of her neck without hesitation. Her eyes fluttered shut, lips parting as her body instinctively leaned into him.
Silco smiled against her skin, something slow and unhurried. He didn’t speak- didn’t need to. The way her body responded to him, the quiet hum she made when his lips found the spot just beneath her ear, said more than enough.
His hands began to move too. One slipped up along her waist, fingers tracing the edge of her shirt, while the other settled on the small of her back. His touch wasn’t rushed- it was reverent, like he was committing every inch of her to memory.
His kisses grew bolder, warmer. He nipped lightly at her skin, then soothed the spot with a tender kiss, his hand sliding beneath the hem of her shirt to feel the heat of her skin beneath.
(Y/N)’s breath caught- just for a second- before she exhaled slowly, her hands moving to curl around his shoulders, pulling him closer.
“Silco…” she whispered, barely audible.
He didn’t answer- not with words. Instead, he kissed the spot just below her ear again, then trailed down, slow and deliberate, his fingers drawing lazy circles against the dip of her spine.
Silco’s breath warmed against her skin as his kisses deepened, no longer just soft brushes of affection but something heavier, something hungry. His lips dragged along the slope of her neck, then parted- his tongue flicking against her pulse point before his teeth grazed it.
(Y/N)’s fingers tightened in the back of his shirt, a soft sound escaping her throat.
He latched onto the curve where her neck met her shoulder, sucking gently, then harder, leaving the beginning bloom of a mark beneath his mouth. A low hum of satisfaction vibrated in his chest at the way she melted into him, body pliant and warm.
Her hand slid up into his hair, fingers weaving through the strands at his nape. She gave a slow, deliberate tug- not too hard, just enough to make him groan softly against her throat.
Silco’s grip on her waist tightened in response, pulling her closer, pressing his body flush to hers. He kissed his way down the line of her neck, pausing to nip at her collarbone before soothing the sting with a languid swipe of his tongue.
“Mm…” (Y/N) breathed, head tilting back further, exposing even more of her throat for him without even thinking. “You’re insatiable.”
He smirked against her skin, his voice low and rough. “Only with you.”
His mouth returned to her neck, this time biting a little harder, enough to leave another mark. She gasped softly, her fingers curling tighter in his hair, tugging again. He growled- quiet and pleased- and let his hand wander higher beneath her shirt, splaying wide across her bare back.
(Y/N) shifted against him, her thigh brushing his, and the contact sent another ripple of heat through both of them.
She let out a soft whine that filled the quiet space between them- barely audible, but impossible to ignore, a soft plea without words. Silco paused, his breath catching, and pulled back just enough to look at her.
Her eyes were half-lidded, cheeks flushed, lips parted. She looked utterly undone already- and he hadn’t even started yet.
His hand moved slowly to her cheek, thumb brushing her skin, reverent. “Are you sure?” he asked, voice hushed, as though he didn’t want to disturb the stillness of the moment.
(Y/N) nodded, gaze steady despite the heat burning beneath it. “I want you,” she whispered. “I want this.”
And that was all he needed.
He kissed her again, slower this time, lingering- like a promise.
His fingers trembled faintly as he began to undress her, not from fear but from care, from the weight of how much this meant. Every layer peeled away was met with another kiss- her shoulder, the dip beneath her collarbone, the soft line of her stomach. His mouth never strayed far from her skin, like he couldn’t bear to lose contact.
When she was bare before him, he just looked at her for a moment, breath catching. Not with lust- but with awe.
“You’re…” he started, then stopped, shaking his head slightly. “I don’t have the words.”
She reached for him, flustered and shy despite the intimacy, and whispered, “Then don’t speak. Just… Be here with me.”
Silco nodded, and only then did he begin to undress himself, piece by piece, until there was nothing left between them but breath and the quiet hum of wanting.
He leaned over her, one hand cupping her cheek, and began to trail kisses down her body- slow, deliberate, worshipful. Across the hollow of her throat. The curve of her breast. The soft line of her ribs. He kissed every inch of her like she was sacred, like he’d never get another chance.
(Y/N)’s breath hitched, her fingers tangling in the sheets as heat bloomed across her skin. “Silco…” she whispered, voice catching.
He glanced up at her from where he knelt beside her, eyes heavy with affection and something deeper- something tender, trembling, but true.
“I love you,” she said again, voice breathless.
His lips found her sternum, just over her heart. “I know,” he murmured. “I love you too...”
He felt it... How deep their love for one another went.
In the quiet shiver of her breath beneath his touch. In the way her hands reached for him, unsure but eager. In the trembling curve of her mouth as she bit back another whimper.
Every part of her called to him- and he answered not with haste, but with care.
Neither of them had ever done this before- but in that moment, nothing about it felt wrong. It was soft. It was vulnerable. It was theirs.
And he made sure she knew- every kiss, every caress, every breath he gave to her- she mattered.
She always had.
Silco hovered above her, one hand cupping her cheek, the other trailing slowly along her side- just feeling her. His touch was featherlight, reverent, and she leaned into it instinctively, already flushed and trembling beneath him.
Her breath hitched again when his fingers slipped lower, tracing along her inner thigh. He watched her closely, gauging every flicker of emotion in her eyes. He wasn’t in a rush- he wouldn’t be. Not with her.
“You’re alright?” he asked, voice barely more than a whisper, warm and low.
(Y/N) nodded, her hand coming up to curl around his wrist. “Yeah,” she breathed. “Just… nervous.”
He leaned down, kissed the corner of her mouth, her cheek, the hinge of her jaw. “We’ll go slow.”
She relaxed beneath him, her thighs parting just slightly as he moved lower, his fingers brushing carefully against her.
The first touch was gentle- tentative, almost. His fingers explored with a softness that made her shiver, each movement slow and deliberate, designed to learn her. To show her she was safe.
(Y/N) let out a quiet, involuntary gasp, her hips shifting, and he stilled.
“Too much?” he asked, pausing.
She shook her head quickly, breathless. “No- keep… keep going.”
His fingers moved again, this time with more purpose. He circled her slowly, coaxing her open with each careful stroke. She whimpered, her hand fisting in the sheets, the sensation unlike anything she’d ever known. It wasn’t just pleasure- it was trust, devotion, the quiet worship written in every movement of his hand.
She felt her body reacting to it, soft and warm and aching in the best way. He kissed her again- slow and steady- his mouth working to distract her from the tension that was gradually building inside of her.
When she was ready enough, he slid a finger inside her- carefully.
Her breath caught.
Silco immediately slowed, lips against her temple. “Its okay,” he whispered. “Just breathe.”
She did, trembling a little as her body adjusted, the unfamiliar stretch prickling with a sharp edge that quickly faded under his careful pace.
He kissed her through it. Murmured to her. Let her hold onto him as tightly as she needed to.
Another finger followed, gentle and slow, and her body responded- welcoming, shifting, clinging.
“You’re doing so good,” he murmured against her skin, voice raw with sincerity. “So perfect.”
(Y/N) clung to him, gasping softly as the ache turned to heat, as her body melted into the rhythm of his hand and the grounding weight of his touch.
And all the while, Silco stayed close- his forehead pressed to hers, his breath mingling with hers, the only thing on his mind being her and the way she bloomed under his touch.
He’d never known anything like it. Never felt anything like this.
He was falling. Already had. And here, with her, wrapped in the warmth of something slow and sacred, he let himself fall deeper.
She was breathing hard now, her body trembling beneath his, flushed and open. Silco never took his eyes off her- watching the way her lips parted, the way her lashes fluttered, how her hand stayed tangled in his hair like she couldn’t bear to let him go.
He slowly eased his fingers from her, giving her a moment to breathe, and leaned in close again, pappering her face wih soft kisses.
One kiss on her cheek. Another at the bridge of her nose. A third at the corner of her mouth. And then one on her eyelid as she shut her eyes, breath catching like she might cry- not from pain, but from how tender it all was.
She opened her eyes slowly to find him hovering above her, gaze burning but soft. His voice came out lower than before, like he was afraid to break the moment.
“Are you ready for me?” he asked, barely above a whisper, his hand smoothing along her thigh.
Her lips quivered as she nodded. “Yes,” she breathed, her voice broken on a soft whine. “I want you.”
And god, how that undid him.
Not the lust in her voice, but the trust. The way she looked up at him like he was hers- like he’d always been.
Silco leaned in, kissed her again, slower than before, trying to pour everything into it- his nerves, his reverence, his love.
Then, carefully, he positioned himself, hand steadying her hip. He watched her face the entire time, made sure he could see every reaction- every little wince, every breath.
And when he finally began to push in, he did it with excruciating care, like he might break her if he went too fast.
(Y/N)’s breath hitched, her brow furrowing with the unfamiliar pressure, and he paused, stilling instantly.
“Breathe for me,” he murmured, brushing hair from her face. “You’re okay.”
She nodded, eyes glassy. “Just… don’t stop.”
He kissed her again, her temple, her jaw, her lips- anchoring her through every inch. His hand stayed on her hip, the other threading between their bodies to find hers, soothing her, grounding her.
When he was finally fully inside, he didn’t move- not right away. He just held her. Pressed his forehead to hers, hands trembling slightly from how hard it was to stay still.
“You’re mine,” he whispered. “Only mine.”
(Y/N) smiled through a shaky exhale, her arms wrapped tightly around his back.
“I’ve always been yours.”
Silco moved with care- agonizing care.
Every inch of his body was taut with restraint, every thrust slow, shallow, measured. He watched her face the entire time, searching for the smallest hint of pain, of discomfort, but all he found was her- flushed and gasping, her lashes damp, her mouth trembling as she tried to hold herself together.
He was trying too.
It took everything in him to keep his pace slow, his grip gentle. His instincts begged him to lose himself in her completely, but she came first. Always. Especially now.
“You’re okay?” he asked again, his voice low and hoarse, forehead pressed to hers.
(Y/N) nodded, breathless. “Yes- yes, I’m okay.”
Her voice cracked with the pleasure beginning to bloom beneath the ache, her arms tightening around his back. She shifted slightly, hips rising to meet his, and a small, broken moan slipped from her lips.
That was when it happened.
The first spark.
Tiny, harmless, but unmistakable- like static dancing across her skin. Silco stilled instantly, his eyes flicking to where her hand had gripped the sheet. The faintest golden light crackled at her fingertips, flickering before vanishing as quickly as it came.
“…(Y/N),” he murmured.
She looked up at him, eyes wide- and glowing, just barely. A soft, otherworldly gold shimmered in her irises, light blooming at the edges. Her magic was responding, pulled to the surface by emotion, sensation, connection.
“I- I’m okay,” she whispered quickly, her voice shaking. “It’s just- just reacting. I’ve got it. I’ve got it.”
He didn’t move, didn’t breathe, his hand brushing gently down her side. “Are you sure?”
She nodded again, more urgently this time, one hand moving up to cradle his face. “I won’t hurt you. I’d never hurt you.”
Her thumb traced his cheek as her power slowly ebbed, the sparks withdrawing, the glow fading from her eyes like the tide pulling back into the sea. She steadied her breathing, grounding herself, and kissed him.
It was messy, half-desperate, but full of control- an anchor for them both.
Silco exhaled shakily against her mouth. “You’re… incredible.”
And then, slowly, he started moving again.
Still gentle, but with more rhythm now, more intent. He kept one hand firmly on her hip, the other laced with hers, grounding her as her magic pulsed just beneath the surface, humming along her skin.
Her moans grew softer, higher, laced with gasps as each movement sank deeper. Her nails dug into his back- not too hard, just enough to feel. Her body was learning the rhythm of him, easing into the heat and stretch with each careful thrust.
Silco leaned down, lips brushing her ear. “You feel like you were made for me.”
(Y/N) whimpered, her eyes fluttering shut. “You’re everything,” she whispered, voice catching.
And in that moment- her body beneath his, her magic singing in the air, her heart laid open and offered without hesitation- Silco knew:
He would burn the world down before he let her go.
The pace between them shifted, gradually, as the room filled with soft, shared breaths and the rustle of linen beneath their tangled bodies. Silco’s self-control was still ironclad, but now it was laced with urgency- a slow build, a deep need tempered by care.
His hips moved with more purpose, each thrust hitting a little deeper, a little harder, but never enough to overwhelm. Just enough to make her arch into him, to make her gasp quietly with every pass of friction, every deliberate roll of his hips against hers.
(Y/N) was losing herself in him- breathless, trembling, overwhelmed in the best way. And god, she wanted to cry out his name. To let the world know who she belonged to, who was unraveling her like this.
But she couldn’t.
They weren’t alone.
A few rooms down, the others were sleeping- or just waking up. And the last thing she wanted was for Felicia or Vander to come knocking because they’d heard too much.
So instead, she wrapped her arms tighter around him, pulling him impossibly closer, and buried her face in the crook of his neck.
Silco faltered just slightly when he felt her breath there- hot and shaky. Then came the bite.
She bit down gently, muffling her moan against his skin, her teeth scraping the sensitive flesh of his throat. He shuddered hard, a growl rumbling low in his chest, barely contained.
His rhythm stuttered for a breath before it resumed- deeper, now, driven by the way her mouth clung to him, the heat of her breath trembling against his pulse.
“You’re going to kill me,” he whispered, voice frayed, lips brushing her ear.
(Y/N) let out a breathless laugh against his throat, the sound soft, shaky. “Then die with me,” she whispered, her voice so quiet it was almost lost in the haze of their shared heat.
Silco kissed her- messy, desperate- and pushed deeper, his movements growing more intense as he lost himself in the sensation of her. Every gasp she swallowed against his neck. Every tremble of her magic just under her skin. Every heartbeat they shared like a drum against their ribs.
They were quiet, but their bodies spoke in ways words never could.
And in the safety of that room, in the hush of a world that had never been kind to either of them, they found something that was.
They were close- so close.
Silco’s restraint had begun to unravel, thread by thread, as her body tightened around him with every desperate, choked whimper she tried to stifle against his skin. His pace had lost its careful rhythm, hips moving rougher now, deeper, driven by something raw and primal and devoted. It wasn’t about control anymore.
It was about need.
He was panting against her neck, the sounds escaping him now- moans, low grunts, broken curses he couldn’t bite back in time. His fingers dug into her hips, holding her steady as he drove into her, their bodies slick with heat, breath tangled, hearts pounding out of sync and then together again.
(Y/N) was shaking beneath him, her thighs trembling around his waist, her magic flickering again at her fingertips as she tried so hard to keep it all contained. Her moans were soft but urgent, desperate, and they only pushed him further.
Then-
“I- Silco-” she gasped, breath hitching, “I’m close- god, please-”
His head dropped to her shoulder, breath hot and ragged. His pace stuttered, hips rolling faster now, deeper, chasing both of their highs with abandon.
“Where,” he rasped, voice nearly broken, teeth clenched, “where do you want me-?”
He was right on the edge, barely holding on, and her answer- her sweet, gasped whimper- wrecked him.
“Inside,” she breathed. “Want you inside- want all of you- please…”
His body froze for the briefest second, her words crashing through him like fire licking up his spine.
And then something snapped.
A sound rumbled deep in his chest- more growl than breath. Possessive. Claiming. His thrusts turned almost frantic, but never careless, driven now by that single, burning thought: She wanted him. All of him. She chose him.
And his mind flickered- suddenly, violently- to the memory of her earlier that day.
Cradling Violet against her chest. Humming softly, swaying on tired feet, so gentle, so instinctively maternal it had shaken something loose in him. Seeing her like that- his girl holding new life like she was born for it- he hadn’t been able to stop thinking about it.
Now, that image burned in his mind, layered over the sound of her moaning beneath him, the feeling of her nails digging into his back, the pulse of her magic humming against his skin.
And she wanted his seed.
His hips jerked, rhythm faltering as the growl in his chest deepened. “You want that?” he whispered, nearly wrecked. “You want me like that? Want me to fill you?”
“Yes,” she whimpered, her arms clinging around his shoulders, legs tightening around his waist. “Please, Silco- want you- need you-”
That was it.
He buried himself as deep as he could go, his body trembling as he came with a ragged, low moan against her throat- inside her, just as she asked, giving her everything she wanted. Everything he had.
He held her through it, his arms trembling around her, breath broken and uneven. And even as the haze began to settle, his lips found her cheek, her shoulder, her collarbone- pressing shaky, reverent kisses against sweat-damp skin.
“Mine,” he whispered hoarsely. “You’re mine.”
And she was.
She always had been.
The afterglow clung to the room like smoke- warm and quiet, the kind of silence that hummed with meaning. Their breathing was still uneven, the air thick with the heat they’d stirred into existence.
Silco rested against her for just a moment longer, his forehead pressed gently to her temple, his fingers drawing light, shaky patterns on her hip. He didn’t want to move- not yet- but when he finally shifted to pull out, it was careful, slow.
Still, (Y/N) whimpered softly beneath him, the sensation making her whole body twitch with lingering sensitivity.
“I’ve got you,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to her shoulder.
He was already moving- slipping off the bed, reaching for his pants and dragging them on with clumsy fingers. His steps were fast but quiet as he disappeared down the hall, urgency etched into every movement.
She stayed curled on the bed, dazed and flushed, thighs still trembling from how hard it had hit her. Her fingers curled into the sheets, grounding herself, breath still shaky even as her magic pulsed low and quiet under her skin.
He returned in what felt like seconds, cloth in hand, and knelt beside the bed. His touch was gentle, reverent as he cleaned her up- careful not to hurt her, never rushing. He soothed his way through it with small kisses to her thigh, to her stomach, murmuring soft things under his breath like he was trying to chase away any trace of discomfort.
When he was finished, he wiped himself down with what was left of the warmth in the cloth, then tossed it aside without a thought. He climbed into bed beside her immediately after, pulling the blanket over them both as he gathered her into his arms like she was something precious. Something breakable.
She didn’t hesitate- her body moved instinctively toward him, curling into his chest, her fingers bunching in the fabric of his waistband as her head tucked beneath his chin. She was still trembling faintly, the edges of her magic flaring and fading like little echoes of everything they’d just shared.
Silco held her tighter.
His fingers pressed trailing up and down her back, grounding her, anchoring her. And his other hand came up to cup the back of her head, fingers weaving into her hair.
He looked down at her with eyes softer than he usually allowed himself to wear. No mask. No posture. Just him, and the way he saw her- his girl, his flame, his constant.
“You’re shaking,” he murmured, lips brushing her hair. “Did I push you too much?”
(Y/N) shook her head against his chest. “No. Just… don’t let go yet.”
“Never,” he said immediately, fiercely. His arms curled tighter around her, and he kissed her forehead, lingering there like he could seal the words into her skin.
They stayed like that for a long time, bodies pressed close, breath syncing again.
(Y/N) had stilled after a while, her breathing growing slow and deep as her body finally gave in to exhaustion. She’d fallen asleep on his chest, completely bare, her arms still loosely wrapped around him, legs tangled with his, her face tucked beneath his jaw like she belonged there.
Silco didn’t move.
Didn’t dare.
His hand drifted slowly up and down her back, just the faintest touch of his fingertips against her skin- memorizing her, grounding himself in the warmth of her body against his. She was soft and warm and real in a way that left him breathless, even now. Her hair was slightly damp against his collarbone, and every exhale from her nose ghosted along the base of his throat, lulling him into something deep and quiet.
It was still early- the sky beyond the window barely touched with gray light, the city not yet awake. The bar was quiet, save for the distant creak of old wood settling and the occasional murmur of wind outside.
He could hear his own heartbeat. Steady. Loud. Content.
(Y/N) shifted slightly in her sleep, pressing even closer, her leg slipping over his hip, her bare chest flush against his. Silco stilled for a moment, his breath catching.
She was so warm. So trusting.
He liked the feeling of her skin against his. He liked the weight of her- unapologetically naked, clinging to him like he was the only solid thing in the world. And maybe, in some small way, he was.
His hand came to rest just beneath her shoulder blade, his thumb brushing slow, aimless circles into her skin. Every so often, she twitched in her sleep- faint, subconscious reactions- and every time she did, he was there, holding her steady, letting her know she was safe.
She had given herself to him. Her body. Her trust. Everything.
And now she slept like she had nothing to fear. Like she knew he’d keep her safe.
Silco tilted his head, pressing a lingering kiss to the top of hers, lips brushing the crown of her hair. He closed his eyes for a long moment, letting the peace settle over him like a second blanket.
He’d never had this before- this quiet, this closeness. No performance. No violence. No deals struck in dark corners.
Just her. And her breathing. And the way she fit perfectly into the curve of his body.
He let himself relax beneath her, his hand never leaving her skin, and whispered so quietly it was barely audible:
“…Mine.”
And with that, he lay still- watching over her until the morning sun crept slow and golden through the cracks in the window.
The hours passed slowly, golden light filtering through the cracked window, warming the tangle of sheets and limbs that lay in its path. The bar downstairs had begun to stir- quiet footsteps, soft conversation, the occasional clink of glass- but none of it reached the sanctuary of (Y/N)’s room.
Silco hadn’t slept, not really. He’d rested, eyes closed, his breath steady, but part of him stayed anchored in the feeling of her curled around him. Still bare, still warm, still tucked into the space between his neck and shoulder like she belonged there.
She shifted slightly as the sun climbed higher in the sky, her fingers flexing against his chest. A low hum escaped her throat, and then her voice, soft and hoarse from sleep:
“…You’re still here.”
Silco smirked, eyes still closed. “Where else would I be?”
She let out a sleepy little laugh, one arm tightening around his waist as she nuzzled deeper against him. “Could’ve vanished like a ghost,” she murmured.
“I’m not going anywhere,” he replied, voice low and sincere.
That made her pause, just long enough to lift her head slightly and press a lazy kiss to his collarbone. Then, still half-asleep, she whispered, “Wanna take a bath with me?”
Silco cracked one eye open, brows lifting ever so slightly. “…Now?”
She nodded against his skin. “Mhm. Don’t want to go alone.”
He let out a soft, amused exhale, brushing a hand down her spine. “You just want an excuse to stay close.”
“Is it working?”
A pause. Then:
“Yes.”
She grinned against him before finally rolling out of bed with a quiet groan, the sheets slipping down her bare back. Silco’s gaze followed her, slow and appreciative, as she stretched lazily, muscles still loose from sleep- and from him.
(Y/N) reached for one of his shirts that had ended up on the floor and tugged it over her head. It hung off her frame, the collar wide and slipping off one shoulder. She didn’t bother with anything else- just padded across the room barefoot before turning to glance at him over her shoulder.
“You coming?”
Silco stood, running a hand through his hair before nodding. “Always.”
They cracked open the door cautiously, peering down the hallway to make sure it was clear. A few voices murmured from downstairs, but no footsteps echoed on the upper floor.
(Y/N) grabbed his hand and tugged him out with her, the two of them slipping quietly down the hall toward the washroom like a pair of teenagers sneaking out after curfew.
She tried to stifle a giggle when his hand settled on her lower back, warm and familiar. He leaned close, lips brushing her ear as they reached the door.
“If Vander catches us, I’m blaming you.”
She grinned. “Please. Vander’s known what this is.”
Silco hummed low in his throat. “Still not interested in the lecture.”
(Y/N) pushed open the washroom door and slipped inside, tugging him in with her before quietly closing it behind them.
“Then let’s not give him anything to talk about.”
Silco raised a brow. “We’re going to be naked and locked in a room together. That ship may have sailed.”
“Mm,” she smirked, stepping toward the tub and turning on the tap. “Then we better make it worth it.”
The bath had been quiet.
Not in a strained way- but in the easy, intimate quiet that followed something sacred. They had slipped into the warm water together, the steam wrapping around them like a blanket, softening the edge of the morning chill. (Y/N) had settled between Silco’s legs, her back to his chest, as he ran a cloth gently along her skin, taking his time. No teasing, no rush. Just care.
She had returned the favor with equal tenderness- fingers threading through his damp hair, cloth gliding along his shoulders, over the lean strength of his arms. The silence between them was filled with nothing but the sound of water and the occasional shift of breath when their hands lingered just a little longer than necessary.
When they finished, they dried off wordlessly- Silco pressing a quick, stolen kiss to her temple before he turned toward the door.
“I’ll see you downstairs,” he murmured, voice still low and warm.
(Y/N) nodded, watching him go before she turned back toward the mirror, wrapping a towel around her body.
She moved to her room with practiced ease- pulling on clean underthings, rummaging through the dresser for clothes, brushing the knots from her damp hair in slow, even strokes. Her body was pleasantly sore in places she hadn’t known could ache, her magic still buzzing low in her chest, like the afterglow hadn’t quite worn off yet.
It wasn’t until she tilted her head to run the brush through the underside of her hair that she caught sight of it in the mirror.
Then another. And another.
“…Oh.”
Her neck- her collarbone, even the top of her chest- was covered in soft, dark bruises. Not harsh. Not angry. But thorough. The ghostly traces of his mouth mapped out across her skin like a constellation only he could read.
She set the brush down slowly, reaching up to gently press her fingers to one of the marks. It didn’t hurt- only made the heat rush back to her face in full force. She had been so swept up in everything that she hadn’t even realized how much of himself Silco had left behind.
The flush on her cheeks deepened, a smile tugging at her lips despite herself.
“Possessive bastard,” she muttered under her breath, but there was no bite to it. None at all.
Her fingertips lingered on one mark, just below her jaw. She stared at it for a long moment, then let out a small breath, lips curling into something soft. Something fond.
She got ready quickly, before making her way down into the bar.
The familiar creak of the stairs gave her away before she even stepped into view, but it was the silence that followed- sharp and sudden- that made (Y/N)’s smirk bloom before she even hit the bottom step.
She’d took care when getting dressed. Her shirt was casual, loose enough to move in, but the collar sat just low enough to give a teasing glimpse of the marks that trailed along her neck and collarbone. Not bold. Not obvious. Just enough.
Enough for him.
When she stepped into the bar, the light caught her just right, and Silco- mid-sip of his coffee- choked.
Not dramatically. Just enough that the mug paused halfway to his mouth and he had to quickly clear his throat, eyes narrowing just slightly as he caught sight of her. His collar was flipped higher than usual, subtly shielding the faint, fading bruises she'd left along the base of his throat.
(Y/N) arched a brow, all innocent as she made her way toward him.
“Morning,” she said smoothly, like nothing had happened, sliding onto a stool at the bar.
Silco didn’t respond right away- just took a deliberately slow sip of his coffee, eyes flicking over her exposed skin with unmistakable heat before settling into something cooler, more composed. But he didn’t fool her.
Not for a second.
His jaw was a little too tight. His eyes lingered a little too long.
She fought the grin tugging at her lips.
Behind the bar, Vander definitely noticed something. He gave them both a side-eye glance over the rim of the glass he was cleaning but didn’t say a word. Yet.
At the booth across the room, Felicia was bouncing Violet gently in her arms, murmuring softly to her as Connol leaned in close, clearly besotted with the baby. Felicia glanced up just in time to catch the very obvious tension simmering between (Y/N) and Silco, and her eyes narrowed.
A slow, knowing smirk tugged at her lips.
“Someone’s walking different,” she said under her breath, mostly to Connol- but loud enough for (Y/N) to hear.
(Y/N) didn’t flinch. She just tilted her head toward Silco, eyes still locked on his.
“Guess you weren’t as subtle as you thought,” she murmured, low and teasing.
Silco’s fingers tightened slightly around his mug, but his expression remained neutral- save for that twitch at the corner of his mouth. “Mm. And here I thought you were the one who enjoyed discretion.”
“Funny,” she said, resting her chin in her hand, her eyes gleaming. “You didn’t seem too concerned with that earlier when you left the marks.”
Vander definitely choked on a laugh this time, turning away before either of them could see his face.
Felicia outright cackled from the booth.
And Silco? Silco just took another slow sip of his coffee.
But the tips of his ears were red.
And (Y/N) sat back in her seat, pleased and glowing, her fingers brushing one of the fading bruises at her throat.
Let them stare.
She had nothing to hide.
The morning settled into its usual rhythm- not without a few lingering smirks and knowing glances, but still familiar. Predictable in the way only chaos can be when wrapped in the comfort of routine.
Felicia shifted Violet from one arm to the other, muttering about leaky bottles and no sleep, while Connol fussed more than necessary, trying to sneak spoonfuls of food toward her between breaths. Vander barked out orders to one of the younger runners, gesturing with a half-eaten piece of bread. The bar was alive again, in its own unique way- half family, half machine.
(Y/N) moved through it like she always did- grabbing her worn satchel, tying her boots, slipping on her usual cloak with practiced ease. The bite of metal, smoke, and earth waited for her in the mines, same as every day. It wasn’t glamorous, but it was hers- her routine, her way to contribute, to stay sharp, to stay moving.
Silco appeared beside her before she could reach the door, already dressed, coat draped casually over one shoulder, his coffee long gone.
“Heading in?” he asked, tone casual- but his eyes were anything but.
She nodded. “Yeah. Just to check in with the others, run inventory. Maybe help the crews down by the collapsed tunnel.” She glanced at him. “I’m not training today.”
His brow ticked slightly. “Everything alright?”
“Yeah,” she said, reaching up to adjust his collar in return- more teasing than necessary. “Just… not in the mood to throw fire around.”
He smirked faintly, but his gaze lingered. “You’ve been pushing yourself hard.”
“I can rest tomorrow,” she said simply, then tilted her head. “Want to come with? Just to walk.”
Silco paused- like the idea surprised him- and then gave a slow nod. “Alright. I’ll walk with you to the office.”
Something warm flickered in her chest at that, and she bumped his arm lightly as they stepped outside together.
The streets of the Undercity were already humming with movement- merchants hauling carts, scavengers bartering loudly in alleyways, children darting between walkways chasing pieces of scrap like treasure. The air was thick with smoke and smog, but it was home.
As they walked, their hands brushed occasionally. Not by accident.
“Y’know,” she said, glancing over at him, “you don’t have to walk me down every time.”
Silco looked at her sidelong, a shadow of a smile playing on his lips. “I know.”
(Y/N) rolled her eyes, but her smile lingered as they turned the corner, the entrance to the mines visible ahead.
Silco walked with her the whole way, boots echoing against the damp stone floor, his sharp eyes scanning the walls like he couldn’t not be on guard.
“You still remember the turns if you end up in the deeper tunnels?” he asked offhandedly.
(Y/N) smirked. “You’re sweet when you’re pretending not to worry.”
“I’m always worrying,” he muttered, but his tone lacked any real sharpness.
They reached the office in no time- an old iron-reinforced room carved into the rock, dimly lit with flickering green and gold lanterns that buzzed faintly. Inside was a scarred desk, stacks of ledgers, worn chairs, and a small iron hook where she always hung her cloak.
She shrugged off her bag and cloak with practiced ease, fingers brushing dust from her sleeves before hanging both neatly in their places. She caught the way Silco watched her in the corner of her eye- how his gaze lingered just a little too long on the exposed curve of her neck now that her cloak was off, on the quiet way she settled into the space like she’d done it a thousand times.
She turned to look at him fully, one brow raised. “You planning on loitering all day?”
Silco stepped forward, closing the distance between them slowly. He didn’t answer right away- just reached out and brushed a strand of hair from her face, his touch warm against her cheek.
Then he leaned down and pressed a soft, steady kiss to her forehead.
It was quick, but it lingered.
Not a promise. Not a goodbye.
Just his way of saying he saw her. Cared for her. Wanted her safe.
When he pulled back, his voice was low but sure. “I’ll see you later.”
(Y/N) nodded, her voice equally soft. “Be careful, yeah?”
He smirked faintly. “Always.”
And just like that, he turned and disappeared down the tunnel, his coat catching the low light before he vanished into the haze of the mines. She watched him go, something warm pulsing beneath her ribs before she turned back to the desk, rolling up her sleeves and getting to work.
The day had begun, it passed in its usual rhythm, familiar in its simplicity.
The mine office was dim and quiet, save for the scratching of her pen across paper and the occasional creak of boots outside the door as workers passed by. (Y/N) checked supply inventories, cross-referenced excavation schedules, marked out the safe zones from the unstable ones. It was tedious work- but necessary. And she liked it. It kept her grounded, kept her from spiraling too deep into the weight of everything else going on above and beneath the surface.
Hours slipped by in the low hum of effort. She fixed a jammed lift schedule, sorted faulty lamp returns, and passed by a collapsed tunnel to give her usual report- though she didn’t go near the deeper parts. Not today. Her magic stayed quiet, humming under her skin, patient.
By the time she finished and looked at the rusted old clock hanging on the wall, it was late. The kind of late where the air in the tunnels started to feel heavier, colder. Most of the crews had already left, the usual noise of hammers and shouting and shifting machinery long since faded.
She let out a soft sigh, rubbing the back of her neck as she stood and stretched. Her muscles ached in familiar places, and a thin layer of dust clung to her pants and sleeves. She grabbed her cloak from the hook by the door, shaking it out with a practiced flick before draping it over her shoulders. Her bag followed- slung across her chest as she ran a hand through her now-tousled hair.
The walk back through the tunnels was quiet. Eerily so. But she was used to it. She made her way toward the entrance of the mines, stepping out into the city.
The Undercity greeted her like an old friend- distant neon lights glowing in the hazy twilight, the scent of smoke and metal thick in the air. The Lanes buzzed softly in the distance, and as she adjusted her cloak tighter around herself, she found her thoughts drifting forward.
The Last Drop would be warm by now- lit up and alive in its usual gritty way. Violet would probably be asleep upstairs, Felicia most likely slumped in a booth with a drink in hand, and Vander behind the bar telling someone off for trying to cheat at cards.
And Silco…
He’d be there, she was sure of it.
Maybe already sitting at the bar, waiting for her like he did most nights when she came back late. Maybe pretending he wasn’t waiting at all.
A tired smile crept onto her lips as she pushed forward through the streets, heart tugging her home.
Back to the bar.
Back to him.
(Y/N) pulled her cloak tighter, keeping her head down as she moved through the winding streets toward the familiar warmth of The Last Drop. The sound of heavy boots echoed around the corner- Enforcers. Routine, by now. Always watching. Always looking for an excuse.
She didn’t glance up- not really- but one of them caught her gaze anyway. Just a second too long. Just enough.
“Hey!” one of them barked.
She froze.
Four of them broke off from the patrol, boots loud against the cobblestone as they spread out around her, forming a half-circle. Uniforms crisp, expressions smug. The leader- broad, smug, with a baton already half-raised- gestured toward her with a nod.
“Out late, sweetheart?”
(Y/N) didn’t answer. Just lowered her eyes, her jaw tight.
“We’re conducting a search,” another said, already reaching for her bag.
She knew the drill. She didn’t resist. Couldn’t afford to.
She let them pull the bag from her shoulder, dig through it, pat her down with rough, mocking hands. One of them yanked her cloak aside, as if they expected to find contraband hidden in the folds. They didn’t. Of course they didn’t.
Still, it wasn’t enough.
It never was.
“Tsk. Nothing,” the leader said, almost disappointed. “Looks like she’s just another gutter rat wasting our time.”
One of them stepped forward, cracking his knuckles. “Then maybe we remind her who runs these streets.”
She could’ve fought.
Could’ve burned them all down with a flick of her wrist.
But her magic stayed quiet. Her body stayed still. She didn’t move.
She remembered the last time.
The screams. The smoke…
So she let it happen.
They knocked her down first. A punch to the gut, a boot to her ribs. Her shoulder hit the ground hard, and the stone scraped across her palms when she tried to catch herself. Then the batons came- short, sharp blows meant to bruise more than break, meant to humiliate. Her lip split. Her breath left her in a wheeze.
But she didn’t cry out.
She didn’t give them that.
She curled in on herself, shielded her head, and waited for it to end.
Eventually, it did.
One of them spit at the ground beside her. “Tell your friends in the Lanes to keep their mouths shut.”
They left her there in the alley, blood on her lip, ribs aching, cloak torn at the edge.
For a long moment, she didn’t move.
Then, slowly, she sat up. Her hands shook as she adjusted her bag, slinging it back over her shoulder. She wiped the blood from her mouth with the back of her hand, then pulled her hood up, hiding as much of her face as she could manage.
And then she walked.
Not quickly. Not limping.
Just steady.
Until the glow of The Last Drop came into view.
The noise spilled out into the street, muffled laughter, the low hum of conversation, the scent of smoke and stale beer. Home.
She pushed the door open with one hand, shoulder braced against the frame like her body didn’t want to be held up anymore.
The light hit her first.
Then Silco turned from where he sat at the bar- and froze.
His eyes locked on her.
Blood at the corner of her mouth. Another tear in her cloak. Dirt and ash and bruises painted across her skin.
She stood in the doorway, barely holding herself upright.
“…Hey,” she rasped, like it was nothing. Like she hadn’t just been used as a message.