My Darling, My Honey

My Darling, My Honey

Alastor X Fem!Reader (Part 12)

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12

Part 12:

It felt like hours went by, and it looked like your suspicion was correct- as indicated by the deepening red of the skies of Hell, compared to the pale pinkish hue it was when Alastor teleported the two of you up here.

The entire time, Alastor hardly said even a single word- a rare occurrence, knowing his occupation and personal love of hearing himself talk. If anyone ever knew that Alastor just purely listened attentively to you for hours, they'd probably think you're lying.

You told him about how your parents and in-laws treated you like a bargaining chip for their own businesses and social standing to prosper- then for everyone to turn their backs on you as soon as you were married off. You were treated like a circus animal in a cage.

Even after that, he didn't say a word. He just rubbed his thumb across your hands as reassurance before you continued.

When you told him about how your ex-husband used and abused you, but then paraded you around as the trophy wife like nothing was wrong, all Alastor did was tighten his grip on your hands.

As you explain in full detail the emotional and physical distress it all caused you and the impact that meeting Alastor had on your life, which then spurred the meticulously planned murder of your then-husband, you could swear you feel his hands trembling ever so slightly.

Many more tears had fallen from your eyes during this whole process, your throat sore from talking so much at one time.

Then, you looked up at Alastor.

He looked at you with nothing but love and the most gentle smile you had ever seen.

Without saying a word, he stood up and walked over to you, helping you stand up. Then he gave you a warm embrace. You gasped in response. It was very rare for either of you to initiate much physical touch, but it was even less common coming from Alastor.

Not letting this opportunity go by, you wrap your arms around him.

Alastor pulls back from the embrace slowly to gently caress your face and says, "And here I thought I couldn't possibly love you even more, my dear. You're just as perfect to me as the day I first laid eyes on you..."

A chuckle escapes your lips as you lean into his touch.

"My vows still hold true, you know. As I put that ring on your finger that night you left me too early, I said to you...' 'In life and in death, I am forever yours, as you are forever mine. I love you, dear.' with only the moon and stars as my witness."

A huge smile spreads across your face, "Oh Al, honey... Looks like you were right after all, in life and in death, I'm yours". You say as you pull him into a kiss, that he happily obliges to indulge you in.

"My dear, I think we will have to have a proper exchanging of vows soon- one that isn't interrupted by a certain someone- banging on the DOOR!"

You hardly even noticed the muffled yells and banging noises that were present at door that then disappeared with a yelp as Alastor whipped around to unlock and open the door.

"Why Vaggie, to what do I owe the pleasure of a visit from you all the way up here?" He answered the door with a low growl to his voice.

"Alastor! You just up and kidnapped our guest and haven't returned for HOURS! You can't just do that! Especially when you were threatening their life!"

"Ahahaha! Funny thing! Yes, yes I can!"

"Why you... ALAST-"

"Hey, hey! Vaggie, don't worry. I'm okay, we're okay." You quickly shoved yourself between the two of them as you felt the tensions rising.

" (y/n)! What did he do to you?? What's going on here???"

You sheepishly smile as you slink back to Alastor's side and link your arm through his, "Just uh.. reuniting?"

Vaggie took a step back and raised an eyebrow while asking, "Hold on now, what did you just say?"

Alastor clears his throat, "Ahem, why I do believe I owe you and Charlie an apology of sorts! Perhaps a 'thank you' as well for saving the love of my life, my soon-to-be fiancée from when we were still alive!"

"Excuse me- WHAT???"

Tag List:

@mysticwitchcraftco @lil-bexie @lonely-burger @cherry-cola-100 @angelxx7 @mariaclarade-la-cruz1 @avitute @justhellacesome @mcrtrashfan @spookysisters @galaxywing-has-adhd @ggyalruu @trashbin-nie @fudosl @night-shadowblood-writes2 @memospacexx @yuraaahs @completelyshatteredbrokenmschf @ghostdoodlen @moschinski @cannibalcoyote @missam @reader3 @yourworstgf @justaproudslytherpuff @milkspong3 @xdolls-crownx @1potato2rulethemall @1rxsemary1 @xxcrispxx @zardward @robin-the-enby @mylenapony11 @silvermoondarksky @bootylimpics @amarokofficial @euphoricaphrodite @blueyobsessedgirly @need-a-therapist @knifukiller @huayan @hwrimonsjer @no1sillybilly @kimmikreates @icarus-has-falllen @watchinthestarz @lady-lik3r @yunxi-11085 @luzzbuzz @tsukilover11 @plntmxrss @houmi @demoarah @papas-ghoulette @trashbin-nie @d-darlingyourbleeding @hallothankmas

The Blood Runs Thicker (part 14) ~vampire!William Afton x F! Reader~

~*Zombie noises as I crawl from the Christmas grave and back into university*~

Tag-List; @ruh--roh-raggy @randymeeksisafinalgirl @sleepy---head @robin-the-enby @hungrhay @likoplays @slxsher-whxre @nicolezghostz @spiderlilytengu

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* Want more or something different? *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

CW:Minors DNI, (18+ ONLY), Female Reader, legal age gap (Reader- 20's, William - 50's), graphic acts of violence, biting, knife-play, blood, blood-drinking/licking, mention of dead children, anaemia. Mentions of torture. Drama. Possessive behaviour. Very, very heavy smut. Cunnilingus, fingering, riding, mating press.

William pinned you so easily, barely using any strength behind his grip as he felt the already slick fabric of his pants become damper with your friction against his thick thigh, breaking the kiss as he grabbed your wrists and chuckled as you yelped when he wrenched them behind your back, forcing your back to arch into his chest as his head settled into the crook of your neck. Muffling his ragged breath with the warmth against your skin.

His free hand moved up onto one thigh, stroking the warm skin, pausing at the knot of scar tissue he had made before continuing, slipping his rough fingers under the hem of his shirt on your body and groping at your hip, slowing the roll of your hips against his as he planted soft kisses against the delicate skin and fluttering pulse.

Your fingers strained to touch him, touch anything as your heat burned against his thigh, the warmth of his breath against your neck making little whimpers of desperation fall from your lips. Some might have called you a monster for enjoying a murderer in the way you were, but you didn't care. If this was the punishment you received for leading a life to it's end, then you were all too happy to lead more astray and bow your head to the dark. Legs trembling either side of his thigh, you tipped your head back in pleasure as you felt a small knot of pleasure building in your stomach, trembling in his iron grip. There was no doubt that you were at his mercy.

Cold air hit your skin all too fast as it took you a second to register the sound of ripping fabric, gasping as you felt all too hot and freezing all at once as William balled up what was left of his t-shirt and threw it somewhere into the room. His silver eyes scanned you hungrily, drawing lazy lines across your body, watching your chest rise and fall with each shaking breath, the faint flutter of your heart visible above your left breast. He twisted his body to lay you across the bed, his predatory eyes never leaving your body before his hands rested on your thighs, squeezing them tightly as a wicked smile crossed his face.

Your brow furrowed as he planted nipping kisses across your neck and collarbones, kissing down the valley of your sternum and then over each breast, gasping loudly as his teeth found your nipple, biting at the sensitive bud as his thick fingers pushed into your dripping pussy, making your back arch into him as he set a brutal pace after only a short pause to let you adjust to him. His hips rocked against the air slightly as he felt your slick walls clenching around his fingers, the burning heat to rival his own, the lewd sound of him moving your slickness meeting his ears like music as he let out a possessive growl. Making sure that the nipple in his mouth was thoroughly tender and paid attention to before he moved onto the other, eliciting another sweet moan.

William Afton, even in un-life, could never get enough of hearing the sweet noises people made. But this was the best sound he had encountered since his transformation, and he wanted more of it. More of you.

The knot in your stomach grew tighter and tighter as he spread your sensitive walls, only worsened as he used his thumb to bump the sensitive nub of your clit with each curling motion of his fingers, as his trying to meet his fingertips through your body. A whimper of disappointment left your body as he removed them though, and your eyes finally wandered to his smug expression as he sat back on his heels, the bed groaning in protest beneath you as he seemed to inspect the mess you made under the low light before he slowly pushed the digits into his mouth. Moaning loudly as he tasted you against his skin, your cheeks heating up as you watched him clean you off of him with his tongue before his eyes opened again, pupils blown out as smirked at you.

"If I'd realised that something this sweet was in my bed this whole time," he growled, the low tone raising the hair on the back of your neck as you found your gaze glued to him, watching as he practically ripped off his t-shirt and threw in somewhere else. "I might have helped myself sooner."

His broad chest as lined with pink scars, silvery sheen to the new skin as his chest rose and fell with the deep breaths he was taking. The dark hair smattered across his chest tinted with a little grey as your eyes naturally wandered down his body, following the trail across his stomach and following where you imagined it led to as the waistband of his pants got in the way. William chuckled as he realised where you were looking, palming the tent in his pants as your cheeks heated up, looking down at you on display for him.

"You'll get your taste soon enough bunny, I'm not done with you yet."

For a man of his age and stature, such fluid movements shouldn't have been natural, but they were somehow and you found yourself reminded of a big-cat as he hooked his arms around the backs of your thighs, rough fingertips biting into your hips as his tongue licked a stripe up your folds. A drawn out moan escaping you as your hand instinctually moved into his hair, holding him loosely as he hummed against your sensitive skin. Long tongue continuing it's path as he repeatedly warmed your already slick folds with his tongue, making sure to catch your pearl with each motion with the tip of his tongue, enjoying far too much the way that your body jolted with pleasure beneath his ministrations.

With almost feverish abandon, his tongue pressed between your folds and opened your walls for him, making you moan more as his grip on your hips forced your back to arch for him. Wincing as his nails left crescents in your supple skin, matching the bruises he was sure to leave behind as his tongue invaded you. The vibration of his moans moving through his tongue and into you, stoking the fire inside as your fingers curled tighter into his hair, holding William closer as he managed to locate the soft, spongey texture inside where your eyes rolled back and breathing hitch rapidly, only serving to encourage the vampire further as he pressed further into your body. Fangs pressing against your skin and sending a jolt through your body.

The knot wound tighter and tighter, sure that your wetness was spreading over William's lips and into the slightly burning stubble as it rubbed against the inside of your thighs, breathing hard and fast as you chased your high, whimpering William's name as his tongue was joined by one of his thick fingers, focusing on your swollen clit as he used his digits to stretch you open for him. Focused intently on the spots that elicited the whimpers and moans, chasing your high for you.

Coming undone on William's fingers were all too easy, shaking and pulling him close as his name fell from your lips in a prayer-like chant, a thought that amused him greatly as he listened to your pulse pounding through the arteries either side of his head. How easily he would be able to rip life from you in that moment, so vulnerable and weak from your intense orgasm. There was a reason the French name for it translated to 'the little death' after all.

He kept his fingers lazily moving inside you, stroking your clenching, soaked walls as he sat up slightly, licking his lips and your slick off of his face. The smell of you, your taste filled his senses and overwhelmed them as the symphony of your overstimulation filled his ears. Squirming, releasing his hair and gripping the sheets below you as you gazed up at him, eyes welling up with tears as your body tried to squirm away from the pleasure still being forced onto your body, William's predatory grin in the low light sending shivers down to your core.

"William..." You breathed, eliciting a low growl of approval from the man as he slowly pulled his fingers from your trembling body, admiring how your arousal coated them before he reached into his pants, clearly stroking himself under the material and denying you the pleasure of watching him. His breathing turning ragged as his silvery eyes became half-lidded, biting at his own lip for a change as his free hand moved to brush through his salt and pepper hair. Muscles flexing just under the scarred skin.

"Am I going to have to undress myself bunny, or are you going to continue being good for me and touch me?" Voice gravelly and low, dangerous. Full of barely contained nature that could so easily consume you.

You nodded eagerly, shakily bringing yourself onto your knees and trembling fingers struggling with the button and zip of his pants, especially as he continued to stroke himself beneath the taunt material. His breath stirring your hair as your focused on the task before your, roughly shoving them down his hips and your fingers finding the pink scars on his thighs naturally. Raising an eyebrow as William sharply breathed in, his eyes fluttering slightly as you looked up at him. It was your turn to smirk at him, pressing a little closer and letting your stomach brush against his tip, bringing the vampire a small shiver as your warmth was so close to his almost naked body.

"Does it hurt?" You asked, voice laden with lust and watching his gaze turn back to you, lip curling into an animalistic snarl as one hand moved across from his hip, wrapping around his thick, hard cock and replacing his own rough fingers. The softness of your touch, fluttering and light, his cock slicked with your arousal and his own pre-cum making him feel as if his control was slipping more and more by the second. The other touch on his hip pressing and stroking over the sensitive new skin that made your touch feel like it was a deliciously burning fire through him, breathing heavy and ragged as he tried to restrain himself.

"The only thing that hurts right now, little bunny, is how fucking hard I am." he growled, his large hand slowly tracing up the curve of your spine before grabbing the back of your head roughly, making you gasp as you were forced down, no time to breathe and barely enough to brace yourself against his thighs as William shoved his cock into your mouth.

Afton moaned loudly above you, his head tipping back as his hips bucked into your warm mouth. The plush lips wrapped around his shaft felt heavenly, and your tongue exploring him sent spasms of pleasure through his large body. Barely listening to the chokes and slight gags from your smaller, frailer body as he allowed his control to slip slightly, fucking into your mouth with a tight grip on your head, his free hand running back over the curve of your back, rough fingers kneading the flesh of your ass as you struggled to take all of him so suddenly into your mouth. Your soft, muffled, whimpering moans sending tiny vibrations through him and driving him even crazier.

But as sinful and heavenly as your mouth felt, just as you grew used to his taste, the saltiness of his precum coating your tongue as you were pulled free. Silvery strands of saliva connecting his throbbing cock to your puffy lips as he snarled and pressed you back into the mattress, making your yelp as your head was wrenched back and leaving your neck exposed as William crawled ontop of your body. Reaching between you and pressing his cock between your folds, making you whimper and moan as he rutted against you, his tip bumping into your sensitive clit as he used your own arousal as lube to thrust against you. If the image wasn't so ridiculous with a predator about to fuck you, you would have thought of his wild eagerness more like a teenager desperate to fuck his prom-date.

Though all thoughts were quickly wiped from your mind as William roughly shoved his cock into your gummy walls, making your back arch. Your hands finding his back and scratching over the sensitive springlock scars, making William growl as he slowly sunk himself into you, panting with pupils blown out as he looked down at you, the arm supporting his weight by your head trembling slightly with the effort to keep himself above you and not crush you under his larger frame as he hilted himself in your pussy. You could feel how much he throbbed inside of you already, how your walls tugged against him tightly as he rolled his hips into you and felt his tip bumping into your cervix.

"Fuck." He breathed, biting his lip before closed his eyes and hung his head slightly, breathing hard but deeply as he held himself as deeply inside you, trying to reign himself back in as to not break you. "Bunny, I...I'm not sure I am going to last all that long with how you're squeezing me." A dark chuckle falling from him as he managed to bring himself to look at you again, meeting your half-lidded gaze as he held your head back, able to see how your pulse throbbed under the thin skin of your neck, how pleasure had dilated your eyes and turned them into inky, carnal pools.

"Y-You going to give out already, old man?" You teased, earning a growl and a sharp tug on the back of your head as he slowly lowered himself to your body, making you whimper as he stretching you out, somehow cramming more of himself inside of you as his lips skimmed over your neck. Breath burning against you as he brushed his lips against your ear, whispering softly into the shell before his long tongue licked over it and sent a shiver through your body.

"Old man? And here I thought we were being civil, bunny...One might even say I was considering calling you a lover. MY good girl." Thrusting into you sharply and making you gasp as he bumped into you, slowly dragging his length back out of your trembling body, as if threatening to withdraw completely and stop giving you pleasure. Threatening to retie the knot in your stomach, the fire stoked under your skin as you whimpered.

"I'm sorry William, I-I didn't mean....mean to...please don't..." You managed to gasp out, breathing hard and fast as he paused, leaving his tip barely inside your tight, clenching walls. Your body begging him not to leave, to continue stretching and filling you.

"Now that isn't quite a proper apology, is it?"

"I'm sorry Mr. Afton, sir." you breathed, although your regretted it as any breath was knocked from you as William smirked down at you and slammed his hips against yours, hilting himself once more into his prize as his strong arms wrapped around you, holding you close as he rutted into you. Moaning into your ear before his lips found your neck, planting soft, nipping kisses there.

"Good girl. You're mine, bunny. You hear me? Or am I going to fuck you dumb and have to teach you this again?" He asked, though he grinned against you as only his name fell from your lips, mixed in with heavy moans and the sound of shaking, unstable breaths as he claimed you.

The feeling of William stretching your pussy around his thick cock was almost painful, but the pleasure took over your mind and left you gasping as your eyes rolled back into your skull. The lewd sound of him slicking in and out of your wetness filling the room and mixing with your combined moans, your fingers pressing into and scratching at his back, feeling the muscles flex and strain as he fucked you into the motel mattress.

His fangs found your neck, digging in quickly and moaning against your skin as he left your reeling, body shaking as the knot in your stomach tightened again, his fast, deep thrusts hitting all the spots inside you that made you see stars as he sucked on your neck. You swore his teeth scraped against your skin, trying to give you a hickey despite the fact you could feel small pearls of your own blood run from between his lips and down over your shoulder, staining the bedsheet beneath you.

William picked up his pace, feeling how your pussy tightened around him, how hard he was throbbing inside of you already. There was part of him that was glad he was as he was, allowing him a small modicum of control compared to when he had been fully human, although even in his mortality, William Afton had been a very controlled and measured man in most aspects of his life.

The taste of you on his tongue was heady and nothing that he had had before, but something he craved more of whenever he would get the chance. Iron, musk. Blood and sex and salt as your skin was covered in a thin sheen of sweat as he fucked your delicate body. The feeling of your fingers pressing into and touching his back and the scars of the springlocks sending pleasurable shivers through his body, encouraging him to fuck you faster as the force of his hips smacking into yours with the lewd sound of wetness and skin on skin filling the small space and cloying air forcing your legs to raise and hang over his hips. There was part of him that wondered how you'd enjoy feeling him fill you in the mating-press, whether he would even be able to fufill its purpose and there was that dark and twisted part of him, the animalistic side of him that wanted to test it over and over again.

"W-William, sir, I...I'm going to-" A sharp gasp cut through his wandering thoughts, growling against your skin as he rutted into you harder, releasing his grip on your back and your neck and head. Watching the crimson streak against your skin, blooming on the white pillowcase behind your head, hair messily sprawled across it as he snarled. His large hands planting on the back of your thighs and pressing them towards your head, making you gasp and whine as he seemed to plunge deeper into your body. Eyes rolling back and body shaking as your hands relegated themselves to the sheets, unable to focus as your orgasm crept closer and closer as the man above you snapped his hips to yours with an almost animalistic pace.

"Cum for me," He demanded, his forehead wet with effort and focused on watching your expressions and his cock plunging into your depths, angling his hips so that he could hit the spots that made your body spasm and whimper with ecstasy. "Let me fill you up, little bunny."

He growled demands snapped the burning knot in your abdomen, a breathless scream escaping you as your back arched severely. Body spasming and clenching around William, feeling him throb as he fucked you harder through your orgasm, making you see stars and the edges of your vision turn white before he pressed his full weight into you. Growling your name through gritted teeth as he hilted himself inside of you, throbbing hard as he unloaded thick, hot seed deep inside against your bruised and batterer cervix. Hissing, shaking breaths escaping through your gritted teeth, as he felt himself filling you, being milked desperately by your body as your second orgasm ripped through you.

The sudden silence in the room, apart from both your laboured breathing, almost left a ringing in your ears. William being the first to move as he moved his hands from your thighs, wincing slightly although feeling a pang of pride as he saw the fingertip shaped bruises across your delicate skin, planting soft kisses there before he lowered your legs slowly. Feeling how they shook as he lowered himself to you again, remaining inside as he wrapped his arms around you once more, licking up the side of your neck to clean you up and leaving you whimpering softly in the overstimulation of two orgasms and the heady bloodloss.

"You did so good for me bunny...But make an old-man comment like that again and I'll teach you the lesson you deserve." Chuckling darkly as he kissed up your neck and cradled your to him, letting you feel the heat and careful weight of his body as you trembled beneath him.

"I...If that's punishment.. you can punish me anytime." Giggling as he brushed his lips against yours and planted an almost tender kiss there. His grey eyes crinkling slightly as he grinned wickedly.

"Oh, that was far from punishment. That was part of your reward for being such a good little thing for me."

"Part of?"

"I'm more than mortal, bunny," he replied, looking at your raised eyebrow and smiling as he kissed you again, feeling how your lips trembled under his with a sense of primal satisfaction. " and as long as you're good, I plan on giving you far, far more than what we did here."

"Is that a promise or a threat?"

"Can't it be both?"

He remained curled around you as exhaustion hit you, eyes fluttering shut as William buried his face into your neck, breath washing over your skin and his body keeping you warm. Wrapped up in strong arms, knowing that somebody was dead was because of you, and somehow knowing that it was the safest place in the world in that moment in time.

You hoped he wouldn't tired of your own mortality, at least not yet.

---

Not you posting this just as I forced myself to study for an upcoming exam...

I was so giddy to read this, I keot putting it further and further away, because I had things to do, but I couldn't stop the anticipation in me.

And oh my god, I loved this so much. My eyes sting as well now, good lord. The reader's thoughts are something I am very very familiar with, as well as the lack of motivation to even seem ok enough to communicate properly with anyone. The doubt of deserving Silco's affection hit especially hard.

And the way he is firm in his gentle words and affirmations? Telling the reader the awful thoughts produced by their mind are just lies, leaving no room for discussion? The way he does so much to help with so little words and few actions? The little teasing jokes towards the end, the way he doesn't hesitate to keep them close at their worst? Now I'm just making myself emotional thinking about it, fucking hell.

I loved this. And I can jever thank you enough for this, I never would have expected you to post this the same day I sent in the ask. But thank you, so much. You have no idea how much it helped. I really needed something like this.

Hiiiii! I absolutely love your work (as you may have noticed, but idk if I was vocal enough about it 🤔).

I saw you were answering asks with scenarios with Silco and I was thinking...I've been kind of down in the dumps lately and I'm really interested in your take how Silco would confort his s/o in such a situation. I live for hurt/comfort and it helps me tremendously and I feel like there is a criminak lack of such fics with Silco, but if you don't feel inspired, that's completely ok! Again, I really love everything you write, have a great day!

Thank you, Robin, for the request! And thank you for all your kind words today in my DMs. My heart is overflowing with all the love and support I've received today.

To be loved

AO3 link

Word count: 1.8k

Beta reader: none

Tags: Silco x gn!reader, soft Silco, established relationship, depression, fluff, hurt/comfort, emotional hurt/comfort, angst, angsty with a happy ending

One more bad day after a series of bad days leaves you feeling numb and dejected. Getting out of bed seems an impossible task. But thankfully, your partner Silco knows exactly what you need to get you out of your funk.

You lay in bed, staring at the clock on your nightstand. You’ve been awake for almost an hour, but haven’t worked up the nerve to get out from underneath the covers. The long nights and cold temperatures have been doing a number on your mood, making it harder and harder for you to find the will to do anything.

Your partner stirs behind you, lifting the sheets off himself as he gets out of bed before gently placing them back down to start his routine. The man is a machine; awake and up, ready to start the day without so much as a stretch or a yawn. More and more, you find yourself growing envious of his ability to get going so easily while your mood continues to plummet with each passing week.

Silco makes his way around the bed. On his way to the bathroom, he crosses your line of vision just as a sigh pushes its way out of your mouth. He pauses, turning to find you awake.

“Morning,” he hums.

“Mmm,” you hum back noncommittally. 

Immediately, his brow furrows and concern paints his features. He moves to sit next to you, a hand draped gently over your shoulder.

“Everything okay, love?”

His voice is so soft. 

Why is it so soft? And for whom? You?

You bury your head in your pillow, hiding your face, feeling undeserving of the gentleness Silco has shown—and continues to show—you.

His thumb rubs a tender line along your arm. When he speaks, his voice is filled with understanding, a familiarity that only comes from knowing someone deeply—intimately—for a long time.

“Another down day?”

You nod your head, face still buried in the pillow.

He shifts on the bed to get closer to you, bringing his hand up to your head. Long fingers work themselves into your hair, pads of his fingers gently massaging your scalp in small circles.

“Do you want your usual?”

You turn your head, one eye looking at him through your periphery before meekly whispering into the pillow, “Yes, please.”

He continues to stroke your hair, looking at you with those beautiful mismatched eyes.

“Can you wait a moment while I get ready?”

You offer the smallest of nods. He offers you the softest of smiles.

“Okay.” He leans down, bringing his lips to the crown of your head before speaking into your hair. “I won’t be long.”

The mattress squeaks as his weight leaves it. You bury your face into the pillow again and listen to the sound of the bathroom door opening then closing. As Silco starts to take a shower, you turn to face his side of the bed, scooting into the middle to chase the remnants of warmth he had left in his stead.

Has it always been this hard?

You curl in on yourself, pulling the sheets around you like a cocoon. As if it will envelope and surround you, as if it could protect you from everything. 

Could everything just… please… slow down?

If the world could just pause, give you a chance to catch up. If time could still so you could get your bearings. It would be so nice.

But living in Runeterra—and especially in the Undercity—doesn’t afford anyone that luxury. It’s always go, go, go. Don’t stop. Don’t slow down. Don’t look back. Just keep moving forward.

It’s exhausting.

You don’t know how long you lay in bed as Silco finishes his shower, your thoughts crawling along as if wading through drying cement. You briefly drift back to sleep for a bit before the sound of the bedroom door opening stirs you from your restless slumber. When you turn to the source of the sound, you find Silco—makeup done, hair styled, and neatly dressed as usual—standing in the doorway holding a tray.

“Here,” he says before making his way to you.

With a grunt, you sit up just as Silco places the tray over your lap, the small wooden legs on either side of you. On it is a mug of hot tea and a plate of leftover Poro Snax from the night before. 

“Thank you,” you whisper, taking the mug and cradling it in your hands, bringing it up so that the warmth from the tea kisses your face. You take a sip and hum in approval, the honey a welcomed sweetness on your tongue. And sweeter still is Silco, moving to sit next to you, one arm wrapping around your shoulders to pull you to himself.

“Take as long as you need,” he whispers, squeezing your shoulder. “And if that means all day, that’s fine, too.”

You set the mug down and give Silco a tired smile, but it doesn’t quite reach your eyes. Still, it’s the most you can offer him in your current state. He leans down and kisses your forehead before cradling your jawline with his hand. 

“I’ll be right through there—” his eyes flick to the office door and back, “if you need anything.”

You nod but can’t help the long sigh that escapes through your nose.

Eyes cast down to the tray below you, your vision blurry as your eyes unfocus. Your eyes flutter closed as you try—you really do try—to get a grip.

But it’s too hard.

Everything’s too hard.

Just being is too hard right now.

You sit like this for a moment, stuck in time. Feeling too much and not enough all at once. Feeling like you’re spiraling out of control and yet unable to move. Then—

Silco shifts beside you, taking the pillow from behind you and tossing it to his side of the bed before taking its place. Long legs come around your hips as he slots himself behind you, his chest pressed into your back as his arms move to wrap around your middle in an embrace.

Ruined cheek pressed to your temple, you can hear his soft breaths in your ear, feel his steady heartbeat against your back. You melt into the touch, sagging into the mattress and him as you cross your arms over his, fingers quick to find his and lace together.

“I love you,” he hums into your hair. “Good day. Bad day. I will always love you.” He gently squeezes your middle. “You know that, right?”

You take in a deep breath and feel a familiar sting behind your eyes. Throat bobbing, you nod once.

“This is just a moment in time,” he whispers, bringing his chin up to rest on your head. “It will pass. Like it always does.”

He leans to the side to better look into your face. You turn toward him, feeling on the verge of tears; a strange mixture of despair and relief welling within you. As you look into the sincere eyes of your partner, you wonder how you ever got so lucky.

To be loved.

And not just by anyone, but by Silco.

“You’re strong,” he whispers into the space between you. “I know it doesn’t feel like it right now, but you are.”

Your eyes flutter and your mouth presses together as the first tear trickles down your cheek. Without missing a beat, Silco’s hand is wiping it away.

“You are beautiful. And clever. And a brilliant light to everyone around you.” His eyebrows curl inward and he shakes his head. “And don’t you dare think for a second you are anything but.”

“But—” you croak out, choking down a sob.

Silco’s quick to cut you off, bringing both hands to cradle your face, willing you to look at him.

“Shhhh, no, no, no.” 

The ocean green and volcanic orange of his gaze is almost overwhelming, piercing into not just your eyes but into your very being. You’ve never met someone who so thoroughly sees you. 

“I know what is going through that head of yours and they’re all lies.” 

He presses his forehead into yours, his good eye closing. 

“You are not a burden. You do deserve every bit of affection I give you.”

His good eye opens, staring intently at you.

“Trust me and listen to me when I say: you’re going to be okay.”

You squeeze your eyes shut, forcing more tears out. Mouth a thin line, you’re helpless to stop the broken sob as it rips itself from your throat.

“Come here,” Silco coos as he wraps his arms around your shoulders.

You turn toward him, pressing your face into the crook of his neck as his hands smooth down your back, rubbing up and down your spine. Clinging to his vest, you let out a cry that was weeks in the making. 

You had held it in for so long. You thought that you had powered through it, pushed it down deep enough that it wouldn’t come back. But as Silco continues to hold you and your throat begins to burn from your pathetic wails, you know that this moment—this breakdown—was inevitable. It wasn’t a matter of if, but when.

You’re just thankful you have Silco to guide you through it.

As your tears slow and your breathing steadies, you feel a sense of relief wash over you. While the numbness you had been feeling recently still lingers, you feel as if a little bit of the weight has lifted. 

You pull back, bringing one hand up to wipe your eyes as you laugh pathetically.

“I probably look like such a mess.”

Silco shrugs.

“A bit,” he teases before reaching into his back pocket for a handkerchief to wipe your face. “But you’re my mess.”

That gets a small giggle out of you and you melt back into his arms, sighing.

“Thank you, Silco.”

He presses a kiss to your head, stroking your back.

“Any time, my love.”

Rejuvenated, you turn back to your breakfast. Silco carefully untangles himself from you, looking down at his ensemble as he gets to his feet.

“I’m impressed. You managed to not get a single tear on me.”

You take a bite out of the now-cold pastry, shrugging. “I try.”

He leans down for one more kiss, a small peck on your lips. 

“Take your time,” he hums, making his way to the door that leads to his office. With a nod, he gestures to the food in your hand. “And you better eat every last bite of that.”

You roll your eyes, smiling. Alone with your thoughts and your Poro Snax, you take a deep steadying breath.

Yesterday sucked. And the day before it sucked. And the day before it.

You take another bite, savoring the sweet flavor. Warmth blossoms in your chest, one you hadn't felt in a while. You take one more deep breath, eyes turning to the large window overlooking the Lanes. 

But I have a better feeling about today.

A/N: I have written so much smut lately, writing hurt/comfort is so refreshing. Also ngl I made myself tear up a bit while writing this and getting into the reader headspace. As a depression girlie myself, I've def had these sorts of days.

Taglist: @averagecrastinator @mazikomo @writingmysanity @insult-2-injury @ariaud @jennrosefx @ins0mniac-whack @steponmesilco  @sherwood-forests @leave-me-alone-silco @givemebeansnow @aeryntheofficial @dreamyonahill @lostbunn @eurydicethesage @thepineapplesimp @whatisafandom @violet-19999 @juicboxd @sageandberries-png @delta-is-here @mutedwordz @fly-like-egyptian-musk @jennithejester @mrsdelirium @witheringblooddemon

Join my taglist!

---

My Darling, My Honey

Alastor X Fem!Reader (Part 11)

Have a nice big chapter/part for the weekend! :D

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11

Part 11:

Did.. did Charlie just say... Alastor?

You felt someone poke your face, multiple times, all at once, "Hey, Hey, miss bandage face, you good?"

You blink rapidly, being pulled out of your stupor and laugh awkwardly, "Ah haha, uh yeah. Yup, I'm good... Haha, thanks Angel.."

Angel just squints at you, not convinced of your act at all but just sighs and says, "Alright, whatever you say, weirdo.." and then returns back to chatting with Husk.

Vaggie, who was sitting next to you struck up a conversation, "Are you really sure you're okay to be up and around already? You look like you saw a ghost or something."

You briefly glanced at the radio that was sitting on the mantle on the wall before returning your attention to Vaggie, "Yeah, being up was much better than sitting doing nothing, I thought I was going to waste away if I didn't do something."

Vaggie sighs and nods her head, "I know the feeling."

"And.. I swear I thought I heard Charlie mention the name Al-"

"Alastor! You're back! We have a new guest staying at the hotel! Come say hi!" Charlie shot out of her seat as soon as she saw Alastor's shadows start to manifest, signaling his return.

You felt your blood run cold as your suspicions were confirmed. Yes, she just said Alastor. How common could that name be down here? This is just a coincidence, surely- Of all names!

"My, my dear Charlie, you seem quite excited! I haven't seen you bouncing off the walls like this in ages!" Alastor chuckles as he allows Charlie to practically drag him over by the wrist to the group.

He sounds like a radio host...

Your breath starts to quicken as Charlie guides him over to you, his aura feels so oppressive, unlike any Overlord you had ever met before... But what made your hair really stand on the back of your neck was the static noise that filled the air as he got closer. You felt your eyes shake and your gut sink in your stomach.

What was this feeling?

You gulp and look up, eyes wide, looking like a deer in headlights as you make eye contact with this "Alastor".

"Go on! Introduce yourself!" You felt Charlie nudge you excitedly, in an attempt to nudge you out of your frozen state.

On his face, a large, creepy grin/smile- (if you could even call it that) grew even larger on his face - a feat you didn't even know was possible. You felt like you should be scared but then... It dawned on you.

That feeling in your gut dissipated instantly and it felt like a weight got suddenly lifted off your chest.

This was Alastor. This was your Alastor.

Tears start rolling down your face uncontrollably as your body is racked with sobs.

"Heyyy! Hey! It's okay, (y/n)! I know Al can be a wee bit intimidating sometimes but I promise he's not a bad guy! Well... mostly.. haha..." Charlie trails off with a nervous chuckle as she scrambles around the lobby to find you some tissues to dry your tears.

Upon hearing your name said out loud, a loud record scratch filled the air.

"Haha... ha...Charlie, dearest! My, you'd think the years are catching up to me! Was that some sort of joke? Why, I didn't know you wanted to become a comedian! Did you say.. (y/n)? That must be a mistake. I've only ever known one person by that name and they surely couldn't have ended up in Hell of all places!" Alastor chuckles, the laugh track coming from his staff warping as he hovers over Charlie with an intimidating aura- thinking she was playing some sort of sick joke on him.

Charlie whips around to see Alastor up in her face and then she scrambles back, "Woah! What? Alastor! Gods, no, why would I joke about our new guest? That would go against everything i'm trying to do here!"

Alastor's gaze darts over to you, "You see, I think this '(y/n)' and I need to have a chat..." His eyes narrow as he makes quotation marks with his fingers as he says your name.

He walks towards you and grabs your wrist with force, finger like claws starting to dig into your arm- despite protest from Charlie and Vaggie to let you go- to stop harassing their new guest because you were still quite injured and fragile. Even Angel and Husk got up from their seats at the bar after hearing the commotion in the lounge and started yelling at him to stop hurting you because it was very apparent that you were in pain with how rough he was handling you.

Then, with a snap, he teleports you and himself up to his radio tower- away from all the commotion.

Alastor slams the door shut with a fury that you've never seen before, and locks it to make sure you won't even try to make a feeble attempt at an escape.

He was powerful. Alastor knew he didn't really need to lock the door because with his power, he could vaporize you before you even thought of making a dash for the door. He did it as an intimidation tactic because he knew the fear it instilled in his prey.

Now, walking towards you, he pointed his staff at your chest, and leaned in close to your face. Strange static and symbols fill the air as he and his antlers grow in size, towering over you.

"Now... who are you really? You get one chance to make a feeble excuse before I kill you and broadcast your screams for all of Hell to hear, for making a mockery of my dear (y/n) by taking the name of my beloved and masquerading around Hell- thinking you can show up here like this to try and mess with ME- tHe RaDiO DEMON."

You see dark shadows and tentacle-like masses appear, and you stumble backward until your back hits a wall, never breaking eye contact with him- your lip quivering in fear.

"I.. But- It... is me...hun... I missed you so much..." You whisper with a somber smile that's quickly warped into an ugly crying face. The unrelenting tears keep rolling down your face, and your left hand reaches up towards his even more demonically altered form that towers over you in a desperate attempt to get him to recognize you.

Before you can touch his face, one of his hands snatches your wrist and pulls it closer to himself to examine the sparkle that caught his eye as you started to reach out to him, roughly jostling you and lifting you up in the air by your wrist as a result.

You wince briefly at the pain in your wrist and shoulder joints as he examines your hand when you remember you were wearing your ring. You never took it off all these years.

You could hear his breath hitch just ever so slightly over the static as he gently put you down and let your feet touch the floor again.

Alastor realized that the ring on your left ring finger was the exact one he had gotten for you- the one he put on your ring finger right before he buried you right the night you were brutally assaulted and murdered back when he was alive.

He slowly morphed back into his "normal" form. (Normal for Hell, that is, this was an entirely new look for him from what you remembered when he was alive).

The shock dawning on him that it really was you was apparent as he took a few steps back, still holding your hand. He looked at you in disbelief, the look of pure shock was just like how you had looked at him initially in the lobby.

Then suddenly, he pulled you into a warm embrace, "My dearest... I am so sorry for hurting you. My darling... whatever are you doing here? Someone like you doesn't belong here!"

Now, holding your face in both of his hands, he wiped your tears with the most gentle expression on his face, a stark contrast from the nightmarish demonic one just a moment ago. and you could almost swear you could see the slightest traces of a misty look in his eyes as he held you.

His claw-like fingers slightly dug into your face, but not enough to hurt, as he examined your new appearance, his gaze turning from soft into a hardened expression once again. Almost snarling, he began to ask you again, "Tell me, darling, tell me the name of the gods forsaken angel bastard that cast you down from Heaven. I will find a way to make them pay. I'll make them ALL pay for this... NO ONE will ever harm you again..." The strange symbols and glitchy auras were threatening to come out again.

You sniffled, still trying to calm down your tears, which immediately made him halt in his tracks and turn his attention back to you at this moment.

You looked at the ground, and you knew you couldn't avoid this conversation forever, "Hun... I... Before we met... there was something I never told you-" Before you could finish, you felt your legs start to wobble underneath you- the adrenaline was starting to fade and you were starting to feel some of the pain from your previous injuries come back to you.

"Please, my love, take a seat first." He guided you to a set of a table and two chairs. Ever the gentleman, he pulled your chair out for you and helped made sure you were alright before he sat down across the table from you.

You put your hands on the table, a signal he immediately picked up on as a sign to envelop your hands in his. You looked at him in the eyes with a look of shame that scrunched up your face as you prepared to tell him the truth, "Alastor, hun... I never went to Heaven..."

You swore you heard another record scratch before a quiet hum of static filled the air again. Alastor chuckled, "Oh my dear, never lost your sense of humor, I see!"

A look of even deeper shame washes over your face as you break eye contact with him and stare at his hands that held your's on the table, "It's true. Alastor..." You sigh deeply, feeling an aching pain in your chest, not only from your injuries but also from the mental anguish you were dealing with as you shakily begin to explain everything about your past. Your shitty family and messed-up inlaws. Your narcissistic, unloving, and abusive ex-husband that you killed.

You painstakingly revealed every single minute detail. You told him everything.

Tag List:

@mysticwitchcraftco @lil-bexie @lonely-burger @cherry-cola-100 @angelxx7 @mariaclarade-la-cruz1 @avitute @justhellacesome @mcrtrashfan @spookysisters

I know he is the king of softness but how about some 🚨 nasty where abe is dom, like we were teasing him so bad holding his hand all over a meeting and having nasty thoughts of him taking control that after the meeting he show us how rough and dom he can be, that he leaves us not being able to walk. I AM BLUSHING HARD RIGHT NOW THINKING OF IT

dom abe ♡ sends u to the ER?!⁎⁺˳✧༚

I love this prompt because I actually recently got into reading the BPRD comics, and our dearest agent sapien is not as much of an awkward nerdy softie mess in that depiction :’) That man is so FOINE y’all I’m obsessed..

warnings: biting, fingering, ambiguous reader parts lol, pinning reader down, it's pretty feral with a subtle prey/predator undertone, could be read as cnc, lil suggestion of facefucking, and ofc.. I love talking about his cum ♡

So your hand brushes his during the debrief, and he innocently lifts it up to cover yours, lightly going back and forth over your knuckles and the back of your hand. His cold fingers juxtapose your warm skin, but you smile at the subtle gesture of affection. Then, your mind wanders.. to other times when his body temperature juxtaposed yours.

You notice his breathing pause for a moment, out of the corner of your eye, and you actively realize where your mind has wandered to. When he nervously exhales and draws his hand away, you double down and move your hand to his under the table, discreetly. You also lean over to rest your head on his shoulder, casually. It’s not a startling display of affection, especially because it was only HB, Liz, and Johann present at this particular meeting, but it also meant that Abe was unable to move away without drawing more attention to the two of you.

With Johann droning on and on, you let your mind wander, telepathically insisting that Abe not be shy about getting a little rougher with you. You’re an agent of the BPRD, you can handle a bit more forcefulness… To this, his eyes get a little shifty, side-eyeing you the best he can (he is literally fish-eyed) and clearing his throat, before trying to keep up with the topic at hand. He diverts the attention to you, in a vain attempt to put a pause on your dirty thoughts.

“Oh, yeah.. Kraus is onto something with that theory, I think the pieces do fit together into some kind of key,” you pip up, moving your hand off of Abe’s to brush against his bare thigh. He mentally curses himself for not wearing full length pants that day. As you casually draw little circles over the top of his leg, moving ever closer to the inside of his thigh, you continue, “and the key has to fit a lock..” you raise your eyebrow, as you picture a completely different kind of key and lock in your mind.

Abe snorts, sitting upright and putting his hand over yours to stop that incessant caressing, and clears his throat gently before adding his input to the conversation.

With that, your mind goes wild; It’s full of thoughts of him being more stern with you, suggesting that he should leave some marks for you to cover up, maybe putting you in your place so you don’t dare distract him during the next meeting, maybe making it so you are the one that has to hold in your moans this time around, the list goes on and on..

And finally, finally, when the meeting is adjourned, you happily stand and bid the team good evening, walking off down the halls back to your living space, not knowing that you’re in for a long night ahead..

You unwind a little bit, not thinking too much about how badly you teased him. The thought of apologizing for your misbehaviour crosses your mind, and you decide to pay your partner a visit in the library before you turn in for the night. He did furiously avoid your gaze as he left the meeting room, and only nodded politely and agreeably when  you said you’d see him later.

As usual, you knock lightly on the door before entering, and you’re surprised to not see him anywhere. “Abe..?” You call out, walking in slowly, ducking your head between the aisles and shelves to look for him. He’s clearly not in his tank, but you don’t see him anywhere else.

Suddenly, the record player starts up, and you breathe a sigh of relief, “Oh, I was looking for you—OH!” Your brief moment of calm is interrupted by a cold, firm grip around your wrist, as you’re pressed up against the book shelf by none other than your sweet and loving partner.

“What had gotten into you during the debrief? Were you possessed or something?” He starts, incredulously. A jumbled reply falls from your lips, but you’re still in a bit of shock to defend yourself at this point. You manage to stutter a meek, “I’m sorry?” but that’s followed by a sharp gasp as you feel his hands running down your back and groping at your ass, with the other gripping your chin and turning your head to face him.

“I’m afraid that’s not adequate reasoning for such unprofessional behaviour, my dear,” he blinks at you, clicking his tongue in disapproval as he brushes against your sensitive spots harshly. That’s when you realize he’s definitely going to make you regret asking him to be rough with you (he couldn’t if he tried, but anyway…)

"If you're going to act like such a.. brat," he bites down hard at the junction of your neck, and pulls away as you squeal. “Oh?” He would have an eyebrow raised if he had eyebrows, but the tone of his voice says it all. “Going to make a fuss now that I’m testing your bold claims, love?” He frowns, almost mockingly. You feel the heat building in your face, and you fumble your words as you try to explain that you were just messing with him. This doesn’t stop him from shaking his head and pressing you back up against the wall, littering your neck and shoulders with bites and sucking harshly at the surface wounds, licking and lapping at your hot flesh while you squirm and slap a hand over your lips to quiet your sounds.

He will catch on and replace your hand with his, and every delicious little mewl he draws from you reverberates right into his palm, and it nearly sends him into a frenzy. He uses his lanky frame to his advantage as he turns you around and presses himself up against you. “You know well enough what you do to me,” he mumbles, rubbing you through your shorts as one hand brushes up under your shirt to grope at your chest and pinch at your nipples, “and to abuse that power.. oh, your heart is racing,” he notes, almost with a hint of amusement in his tone, as he roughly pulls your shorts down just enough to swipe a finger across your warmth. “and.. so wet, huh?”

He grips your shoulder and forces you to bend over for him as he wets and slips a digit or two inside of you, curling it to brush against your sweet spot. “I guess the feeling is mutual, hm?” He teases as he fingerfucks you while you grip the edge of the bookshelf, biting down on your lip as you struggle to contain your noises.

“Ah ah ah, keep it down.. in the library,” he leans over just to whisper that in your ear, mock scolding you and lifting your shirt up to slip the hem of it between your teeth, punctuating his comment with a soft bite to your earlobe and chuckling when you whine and try to pull away. You’re just showing him how fun you are to play with, and it unlocks a new fascination within him.

You get to decide just how many orgasms he chooses to wring out of you until he deems it appropriate to push your shoulders down and listen to your sweet garbled and muffled begging while he rails you from behind, a few fallen magazines being pushed aside as you shake under him like a thoroughly fucked out mess. It was mind-blowing, simply put.

How do you feel about tasting the mix of you two together? If you’re open to it, and he’s feeling extra offended by what you thought of during the meeting, I hope you enjoy getting held down and facefucked by your darling fishman while he coos and shushes you and praises you for taking it so well. He runs out of degrading words really quickly, actually, and can only continue to praise you because he knows that you’re enjoying the rough treatment, and he thinks it’s incredibly sexy to use you like this. You end up literally covered in his cum, with it leaking out of you and painting your face and chest and lower stomach and back, because he was.. pent up, so to speak, and he feels so guilty after he’s done with you.

“Oh dear.. oh my goodness, are you okay?” He finally asks, full of worry and chest heaving from exertion as he fusses over your limp form. You nod weakly with a content smile, stifling a giggle, your nose scrunching happily as you bask in your afterglow. He's so gentle with you afterwards, apologizing for fear of taking it too far, but you reassure him that you had a great time, despite your protests.

It isn’t until a few hours later (post bath and diligent aftercare, ofc) that you realize you’re sore in places you’ve never been sore before, and he may have bitten harder than he thought in some spots. Needless to say, you refused to pull anything at the next meeting because you were too busy feeling sorry for your poor bruised and bandaged self. It was totally worth it, though.

---

OH. MY. FUCKING. GODS.

A day hasn't passed where I wouldn't think about this series. I already spewed so many times how much I love your portraytion of Silco and this chapter only made my obsession with your works stronger.

I loved all the fluff in this, the soothing, the emotions, everything. It was a perfect thing to end my day after my nightshift ^w^

But one thing stood out to me. I know you said you wanted this series to be loaded with other relationships/subpllts tham just focusing on Silco and the reader. And you really did it beautifully! The way Sevica admits she's glad the reader is okay might not seem like much, but if you know her, it means so fucking much. She's not one to voice ger emotions often, so for her to admit that, even if it was to affirm Silco in that "argument" of theirs, she wouldn't lie. And she still said it, which means the wlrry she must have felt was way bigger for her to admit it like that, so easily, for lack of a better word.

And Zane??? It had me cljtching my heart, what he did for the reader. The soup moment was so sweet, because not only did the reader manage to get close to Silco, she also gained friends. Something she thought she would never have again adter everything she lost in her life.

You're...you're fucking perfect. Never stop what you do (I'll fucking lerish if you do)

The Mad Scientist's Assistant - Chp 27

Chapter 27—Bit by Bit, Piece by Piece (AO3)

Full TMSA masterlist

Previous Chapter: Chapter 26

Rating: Explicit. Minors DNI 

Chapter Tags: Silco x Fem!Reader, Reader-Insert, some short-term amnesia

Chapter word count: 8.4k

Chapter Beta Readers: Thank you as always @purplefangirl42

Total word count: 172k

Darkness.

In the darkness, there's no pain, no guilt, no anger, no longing.

Only darkness.

Both weightless and untethered, yet unable to move. Suspended in both space and time.

No light can enter. No sound. No smell. No taste. 

How much time has passed? Has it even passed at all? Seconds, minutes, hours, days. None of it matters in this limbo between waking and dreaming. Then—

Something manages to slip past the barrier. A sound. It's hushed and broken, yet familiar. It grows stronger and louder, the unintelligible hums become more refined, more crisp until words can be parsed. They drift in and out, simultaneously so close yet so far away.

You hear a word, repeated over and over. It sounds so familiar. 

Why does it sound so familiar?

There's something important about this word. Something you can't quite place. Like it's been with you forever. Like it's accompanied you through everything you've ever known.

You cling to it, focus in on it, listening for more. 

Is it… is it your name?

Yes! That word, that sound; it's you! It's your name!

Your ears prick with every broken whisper of your name, with every shaking prayer.

You try to call out to it, your lips forming another word. It feels harsh on your tongue. Bittersweet. Like you've had so much of it that you can't take anymore. And yet you want more. 

What is that word?

It's a dew drop on your tongue, a melody in your voice. 

A name. 

Bit by bit, you piece yourself together, using the murmured hums and gentle touches from the other side as a guide.

First, your ears, honing in on the sounds around you.

Then, your hand, as something warm envelopes it, squeezing it tightly.

Your nose. The scent of gunpowder, river sludge, Shimmer, and something else. Something also familiar. Tobacco.

Your mouth. The taste of iron.

Your torso. A dull ache, a tightness that seems to wrap around you.

Slowly, painstakingly, each part of you pulls out from underneath the heavy veil of unconsciousness. With every piece of you, you relearn what it is to be human.

To feel alive.

Your eyes are the last to awaken. With each flutter of your eyelids, you feel the weight of them as they sink back down. Heavy, so heavy.

Was it always this hard? 

A soft orange glow, a beacon. A lamp? No. The sun? 

Your eyes drift closed again but you fight them, focusing all your energy to open them once more. When that proves too difficult, you turn your attention elsewhere, honing in on a sensation.

Warmth and weight on your hand.

Experimentally, you wiggle your fingers. There's resistance and pressure as the pads of your fingers press against something. You do it again, a little harder, until you're squeezing your fingers around it.

You sense something move in front of you, startled. There's pressure on your face as something warm yet rough presses against your jawline, something caressing your cheek.

Your ears pick up a sound. It sounds like your name. Your lips move to respond to it.

“Silco?”

Your throat is scratchy, your voice hoarse.

More feelings. More sensations.

Every part of you cries out in discomfort, a deep ache all over your body that won't go away.

But the hand in yours is soft and warm. As is the voice that says your name.

You squeeze the hand.

It squeezes back.

Your eyes open.

That soft orange glow. That light in the darkness. It shines before you now, ever present, unblinking. Your eyes focus, your vision growing more refined by the second until you can clearly see the beacon that guides you home.

Silco's corrupted eye.

The veil falls away until it feels like a distant memory, a hazy dream, leaving only…

“Silco.”

The man lays in front of you in bed, one hand in yours while his other tenderly strokes your cheek. His mismatched eyes swim as they take in your tired, confused face.

His lips are parted in awe, his eyebrows curled inwards in disbelief. 

He says your name again.

It sends warmth to your chest.

Slowly, and with great effort, you take in your surroundings. You're on a bed of some sort, somewhere dark except for the faint green light from somewhere further away. As your eyes adjust to the darkness, you're able to take in a little more. 

“Your—” he whispers, blinking. It's as if he has a thousand things to say and doesn't know in what order he should do so. “It… it worked.”

You feel as if you've joined a conversation mid-sentence.

“What worked?” You croak out, your throat burning.

A smile spreads across his face. It crinkles at his eyes and makes him look a decade younger. It's the happiest you've seen him since you've met him. 

“Your cure.” He presses his forehead to yours, his good eye closing. “Your cure worked.”

You're not entirely sure what he's talking about, your mind unable to recall anything before this very moment. But you can tell from Silco's expression that this is good news, so you try to humor him.

Your lips pull into a smile, but it's crooked with the way your face presses into the pillow. It doesn't quite reach your eyes, limited by the exhaustion that continues to grip you.

“Yay…” you let out a small, pathetic whisper of an exclamation, pulling a soft chuckle from the man across from you.

As a bit more energy returns to you, you shift in the bed. Pressing off your arms, you grunt as you raise yourself up to sit. Silco follows suit, a look of concern on his face.

You suck air through your teeth as a sharp bolt of pain shoots through you from your shoulder, across your spine, and down to your hip. Squeezing your eyes shut, you ride out the pain, your breath hitching.

“Take it slow. You suffered a major injury,” Silco coos. “Breathe.”

You nod, taking a deep breath in through your nose before pushing it out your mouth. The sting eases slightly.

Another breath.

You open your eyes, relieved.

Looking around, you realize you're in Singed's cave. And not only that, you're in his bed.

I knew he had a room in here…

The blanket on you falls away and you look down to see that your entire torso has been wrapped in gauze.

You turn to your bedmate, confused.

“Why am I wrapped like a mummy?”

Silco lets out a soft chuckle.

“That's a long story. One I can tell you after you've had some time.”

He tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, gazing into your eyes.

“All you need to know for now is: you're okay. Everyone's okay.” 

You feel as if a weight has been lifted off your shoulders. But even as that relief settles in, your body cries out, already desperate for a break.

Slowly, you sink back down on the bed into the same position as before.

The mattress groans as Silco's weight leaves it.

“Get some rest. I'll have food waiting for you when you wake.”

He starts to leave, but your hand reaches out instinctively to grab his wrist.

“Silco?”

He pauses.

“Thank you.”He gives you a soft smile in response. “By all accounts,” he hums, “I should be thanking you.”

The next time you wake, Silco brings you a tray with a bowl of stew. As you sit up in bed, content to let the hot soup soothe your scratchy throat, Silco recounts everything that happened after leaving his office.

As he talks, you struggle to recall the memories of what he's telling you. The images and sounds are hazy and muddled at best. You suspect your brain is trying to protect you from the trauma your body just went through.

Four days.

You were out for four days.

You certainly feel like it, your body aching all over as if you'd been run over by a Chemtank. 

“What happens now?” 

“All that's left is meeting with the Chembarons to divy up Finn's territory.”

You roll your eyes. “Something tells me none of them will be that heartbroken at his passing.”

Silco smirks, but adds nothing.

After a moment, you see him do something he's never done before. You blink as you watch, a smile curling on your lips.

He yawns.

“I think it's the Eye of Zaun’s bedtime,” you laugh.

He shoots you a look, equal parts annoyance and amusement. But then you find yourself yawning as well, your eyelids growing heavier by the second.

“Yours as well,” he hums.

He stands, removing the tray and empty bowl from your lap.

“Thank you.”

“Don't thank me. The stew was all Zane's doing.”

You blink.

“Really?”

He hums in confirmation, using his free hand to adjust the sheets for you.

“Get some rest. I'll be here when you wake.”

You stir out of sleep at the sound of two voices speaking in hushed tones. Too tired to open your eyes, you're content to simply lay and just listen. After a while, you realize the voice that accompanies Silco's is Sevika's. The pair seem to be talking at the entrance to Singed’s room, if you could call it that.

“How long are you going to play nurse? We need you back.”

“You've managed fine without me—”

“Any longer and you risk a coup. The Chembarons will sniff out and exploit any weakness—”

“I just got rid of their biggest headache,” Silco shoots back, voice straining to stay quiet and hold back its edge. “They won't try anything so foolish.”

“You've been gone—”

“I've been right here—”

“No! You haven't!”

Sevika's voice rings out through the cave, dancing and bouncing off the stone walls. You realize in this moment that you've been holding your breath as you listen, your hands clinging to the sheets next to you.

There's a pregnant pause and you can hear Sevika take a deep breath in, gathering herself before she lowers her voice. You have to strain your ears to hear her.

“Ever since you fired her, your mind has been elsewhere.”

Your throat bobs.

“I don't know what happened between you two—and I don't want to know—but whatever it is, you need to sort it out. And fast. Before you drag us all down with you.”

You can sense Silco's agitation in the way his breaths come whistling out his nostrils, as if his lips are pinched into a tight line. When he doesn't speak, his second-in-command continues, her voice hushed but a fire in every syllable.

“Finn is gone; we saw to that. And now, it's time for you to make good on a promise you made me years ago.”

You can hear a subtle sound of metal on metal and suspect Sevika is rolling out her chemtech arm. When she speaks, her voice is low and gruff.

“An Independent Zaun.”

A pause.

There's nothing but the sound of bubbles in the various tanks throughout the lab. That and the occasional sound of tinkling glass as Singed works somewhere within the stone walls. Tentatively, you open your eyes. Your back to the pair, all you can see are their shadows ahead of you, their forms illuminated by the soft green light from the various tanks. You watch, attempting to read their body language as much as their hazy silhouettes along the cave wall will allow.

“Silco.” There's a warmth in Sevika's voice. The same you had witnessed when she was at your apartment. “You said yourself: the longer we wait, the more—”

“I know what I said,” he snarls back. 

Then, the sound of booted footsteps as he walks toward your bed, his shadow growing larger in front of you. Quickly, you shut your eyes, pretending to sleep. 

You can feel his presence and sense that he’s standing behind you, hovering. You keep your eyes shut, straining to not move a single muscle.

When Silco speaks, there’s a heaviness to each word; his tone informed by years of battles won and lost.

“There is no reason to leap into the next fray until after we've recovered from this one.”

More footsteps. They don’t quite reach your bed, Sevika standing somewhere between the entrance to Singed’s quarters and Silco.

“How long?” she calls to him.

A pause.

“How long do you need to lick your wounds?” She clarifies. “Topside’s not going to wait for us to be ready.” Creaking of leather as Sevika shifts her weight. “In fact, I heard as soon as two weeks from now, they’re meeting to decide our fate.”

The silence that stretches out is stifling. It goes on for so long, you wonder if Sevika has already left. But then, there's shuffling followed by Sevika's voice, all the bite behind her words gone, replaced with quiet sincerity.

“I am glad she's okay.”

Another pause.

Then, an equally quiet, equally sincere:

“Me too.”

Your hands tighten their grip on the sheets, your lips pressed together.

Silence falls on the cave again. After a few quiet moments, you hear Sevika’s echoed footsteps as she exits the lab. Silco remains at your bedside, deathly still.

You’re about to turn over, pretend like you had just woken up. But then Silco’s voice cuts through the quiet, just barely above a whisper.

“I can’t do it.” 

A pause.

“Not yet.”

A long, shaky inhale followed by a broken exhale.

“Not without her.”

You awaken on your back and are surprised to feel no pain as you do so. There's a lingering ache, but the sharp pain that shot through you before has diminished.

There's something on your chest on top of your bandaging. By no means heavy, it's small and strangely comforting. When finally you open your heavy eyelids, you're greeted with something purple and tentacled.

“Ah!” 

You bolt up, hands quick to shove the thing away from you. As soon as you do, you hear cackling coming from beside you. Turning, you see one blue-haired menace.

“Jinx!”

She continues to wheeze and howl at your expense, holding her stomach as she no doubt succumbs to stitches in her side, slapping her knee all the while.

When finally she gets up from the stool, she wipes a tear away from her eye as she walks to the foot of your bed where you had thrown her octopus plush.

“What did Ms. Inky ever do to you?” She admonishes as she delicately lifts the purple plush by two of its soft tentacles, dancing it toward you like a marionette on a string. The longer you look at the stuffed animal, the more you start to remember. Slowly, your mind pieces together memories from before your run-in with Finn’s crew.

“A lot, actually,” you reply with a laugh. “You know this by now.”

“I do,” she says with a cheeky smile.

“What are you two going on about?”

Your head whips around at the familiar voice and you immediately wince as a now familiar sharp pain shoots through your back. By the grace of Janna, the pain leaves just as quickly as it came.

No sudden movements. Got it.

“Nothing!” You and Jinx answer Silco in unison. When his attention is elsewhere, you both share a knowing look and a silent giggle.

Jinx continues to hold up the plush in front of you, jostling it with each little dance of her hands. Laughing, you reach out for it. Jinx sits at the foot of your bed cross-legged while her father takes her old spot on the stool next to you.

“I guess I can't stay mad at Ms. Inky. She saved my life after all,” you say, one finger tracing the stitching over the space where its missing limb used to be. “Even if she did try to kill me first.”

You can feel the heat of Silco's gaze on you and turn to find furrowed eyebrows, one dark while the other is slightly smeared. You can tell from glancing at his face that his makeup job was rushed whenever he had last applied it; you can see small traces of his scarring beneath the foundation, peeking through like sunlight through a thick forest.

“What are you talking about?” he asks, tone neutral.

Your hands fidget with the soft plush, fingers expelling the sudden nervous energy within you. You just know Silco won't approve of the way you had gone about finding his cure, but you also don't want to lie to him.

“Singed managed to replicate my formula, right?”

“Correct.”

“And… you know all the ingredients for it…”

“Yes.”

“Well…” You chew the inside of your mouth. “How do you think I got that in the first place?”

His good eye narrows; it's such a small movement that you almost miss it. 

“Jericho's.”

You shake your head.

His eye narrows further, suspicion on his face but it's clear that he's not putting the pieces together.

“When I needed to make more cure, I sourced from Jericho's… but what led me to the creature in the first place was…”

You watch as it finally clicks, realization spreading across his face.

“You did not.”

You hum, nodding your head.

“Do not tell me…” he leans forward, bringing his elbows to his knees while his thumb and forefinger pinch the bridge of his nose. “You went into the river to get its blood.”

“I didn't! I mean… I did,” you correct yourself. “But I didn't go in the river with the intention of getting its blood.”

He shoots you a look and you stumble through an explanation, more and more of your memory clearing up as you speak.

“So Singed gave me a couple bags of your blood, right? So I could test and research it to find your cure. But it wasn't enough and I knew I needed a sample of the toxins that did this to you, so I went in to get a few vial's worth. But—” you let out a nervous chuckle, looking down at Ms. Inky in your hands. “But I got pulled under by the big octopus creature.”

When you work the nerve up to look Silco in the face, you're surprised to see his good eye widened. Not in anger or surprise, but fear.

“Yeah, I… it grabbed me by the leg. I managed to get away after cutting off its tentacle. On a whim, I took it home. And, what do ya know, its blood held the key to our cure.”

Jinx sits uncharacteristically silent at the foot of the bed, content to watch the conversation unfold, blue eyes darting between you and Silco.

“... When you say ‘our cure’...” His voice is low, a deep rumble.

Your throat bobs.

“I mean…” you look up at Jinx. She offers you the smallest of nods. 

No use keeping it from him.

“I mean I already needed the cure before the greenhouse.” You wet your lips. “When I got pulled under, the toxins got in my eyes. I umm… I almost went blind.”

His eyes lock with yours, a look of almost panic written into his features: the inward curl of his eyebrows, the slight part of his lips. But then, he seems to look through you, his eyes unfocusing as if watching some other scene play out in his mind. Finally, his good eye flutters closed, a sigh at his lips.

“That's why you couldn't see me,” he whispers.

Now it's your turn to be confused.

“What?”

But he elaborates no further, leaving you in the dark as he shakes his head.

“You just can’t help yourself, can you?” There’s an airiness to his voice, like he’s laughing at a joke only he understands. “Always finding trouble.”

You chuckle. “I think in this case, trouble most certainly found me.”

He hums at that, eyes never leaving you. His expression is unreadable, but you can’t help but notice there’s a hint of something behind his gaze. A sadness. Is it guilt?

But then he’s turning away from you and addressing his daughter.

“Jinx, fetch her things. She'll be returning home today.”

Jinx leaps off the bed. There's the sound of rustling and clanging as she throws things into a large black bag.

“I am?” You straighten up.

He hums.

“The doctor says you're safe to return home. Your stitches will dissolve in about a week. In the meantime, you'll need someone to redress your bandaging every two days.”

“I can do it!” Jinx pipes up as she plops the bag onto the foot of your bed.

Silco offers her a soft smile.

“It seems we have a volunteer.”

“Oh! Wait!” Jinx buries her nose in the bag as her painted fingertips shove things around. “I brought you a shirt since yours got all ruined and junk.” 

She pulls out a large oversized shirt, tan in color. Your eyebrows furrow and you blink, staring at it.

“One of Vander’s…” she mutters in explanation. 

“Oh…”

You lock eyes briefly with Silco and his gaze darts away. Meanwhile, Jinx is scrunching up the fabric, ready to pull it over your head.

“Here, lemme help.”

Maneuvering with your entire torso bandaged proves awkward, but with Jinx’s assistance, you manage to get the shirt on. You’re absolutely swimming in it; it hangs off one of your shoulders and you’re almost certain it’ll reach your thighs when you stand up. But the fabric is soft, softer than the sheets you sit under.

Jinx helps you with your boots before hopping onto the bed, sitting next to you.

“So!” she exclaims, “when are you coming back to work?”

“Jinx!” You and Silco cry out in unison. 

“Whaaaat?” She whines. “You two keep tiptoeing around it, I thought I’d nudge you in the right direction.” 

You and Silco share another look and this time you’re the one to break it off first. You chew on the inside of your mouth, heart too full of irreconcilable, inexplicable feelings tied to conflicting—yet incomplete—memories. 

Azure eyes dart back and forth between you and Silco, waiting for an answer. When one doesn’t come, she crosses her arms, letting out an exasperated huff through pouting lips, blowing the long blue fringe of her hair that’s draped over her face.

“I still don’t understand why you were fired in the first place,” she mutters.

“Jinx…” Silco warns.

She rolls her eyes.

Silco rises to his feet, plucking the bag by its strap from the edge of the bed and holding it up silently in instruction to his daughter. She lets out a groan and puts both her hands out, a soft grunt leaving her as her father drops the bag into her arms.

“Bring that to Dax. We’ll be up soon.”

“Okay…” she groans, hoisting the bag over her shoulder. She’s about to start for the cave’s exit when she turns back around and wraps her arms around your shoulders. Immediately, you melt into the embrace.

“Welcome back,” she whispers.

You feel a slight sting behind your eyes.

“Thank you.”

Jinx hops away, leaving just you and Silco in Singed’s quarters.

Silco stands with his hand outstretched in offering. Tentatively, you take it and—very slowly and very carefully—start to lower yourself off the bed.

You pitch forward when your boots touch the stone floor, your legs giving out almost immediately. Silco is quick to catch you, his hands grabbing your upper arms to hold you steady just as yours reach out to cling to the lapel of his coat. When you lift your chin, you’re surprised to find Silco’s face mere inches from yours, your breaths mixing in the middle. Eyes dart between cooling green and warming orange irises. Your throat bobs.

“Thanks.”

He straightens up and you follow.

“Of course.”

The two of you stand like that for a moment, still clinging to each other. There’s a familiarity to it, but you get this nagging feeling at the back of your head that you’ve forgotten something.

“I…” You wet your lips. “I don’t remember much of what happened with Finn, even after you told me.”

“That’s perfectly normal,” he hums.

“But that’s not all…” you say, more to yourself than to him. “I feel like…” you close your eyes, pinching your eyebrows together as you try to will the memories back. “I feel like I should be… mad at you?” You shake your head, as if it’ll knock the memories loose. “But I don’t remember why.”

When you open your eyes, you’re met with a stunned expression.

“You don’t… remember.”

You shake your head again.

“I vaguely remember being fired, but I don’t remember how it happened.”

Silco loosens his grip on your arms. You pull back, too.

“Do you remember why you were fired?”

You scrunch your face up as you try to think. “Kind of? Something with… the Hextech?”

His lips press into a thin line.

“Perhaps,” he starts, “it’s best if you try not to think of that right now. Focus on getting better. We can discuss your employment at a later date.”

After a moment, you nod.

Arm outstretched, he gestures toward the front of the cave. The climb up to the street level proves difficult on your wobbly legs, but Silco guides you the entire way, one arm barred around your shoulders to keep you from falling backward while the other holds your hand steady.

A black carriage awaits you on the street, Dax in the driver seat. You feel a strange sense like you had been here before when you climb in. As you scoot toward the middle of the seat, you notice a reddened stain on the carpet.

Is that my blood?

Silco climbs in after you, closing the door behind him.

Or Silco’s?

The car ride to your apartment passes in silence. You watch as the Undercity whizzes past your window, on occasion you steal glances at the man next to you. Only his unmarred side is visible as he stares straight ahead, expression unreadable. 

The carriage slows to a halt. After opening the door and stepping out, Silco turns to you, hand outstretched in offering.

“Oh, thanks,” you mutter under your breath as you take his hand and allow yourself to be guided out the car.

“Wait here,” Silco instructs Dax before making his way toward the back of the carriage, popping the trunk, and pulling out your bag.

“Oh, Silco, you don’t have to do that—”

“Doctor’s orders. You’re not to lift anything until your sutures have dissolved.”

You let out a sigh.

“Okay.”

When you get to your door, you realize you don’t have your satchel on you. Stepping aside, you watch as Silco pulls your keys out of his pocket.

“The contents of your satchel—as well as the now ruined satchel itself—are in this bag,” he explains as he unlocks and then opens the door. 

“Oh, right,” you mutter to yourself. 

Silco had told you about the warehouse, how your bag had been torn to shreds in the ensuing gunfire. You feel a slight pang in your chest, knowing it’s forever ruined.

My mom left me that bag…

Taking a step back, Silco offers you your keys. You realize at this moment that Silco has never been inside your apartment. You cross the threshold as you chew your bottom lip, preparing for the worst.

Your eyes widen when you take in the sight of your living room. Someone had cleaned it in your absence. Your blanket neatly folded on the couch, all the trash and bottles you had accumulated during your sleepless nights of work thrown away, even the dirty dishes in the sink are nowhere to be found, presumably cleaned and put away.

Silco follows you inside, setting the bag of supplies down next to the couch. You turn to him, surprised.

“Was this you?” You ask, unable to hide your smile.

“I’m afraid I cannot take credit for this,” he says. 

You walk into your kitchen, marveling at the pristine countertops as Silco follows you.

“In my defense, I never left your bedside.”

You laugh.

“I wasn’t going to complain, Silco.”

He shifts, bringing his hands to clasp behind his back. “I must apologize, however.”

You turn to him, confused.

“I may have… borrowed your key out of what was left of your bag to allow them to do this.”

Your eyebrows lift and you cross your arms.

“I put it right back,” he adds defensively.

You roll your eyes, taking in the sight of your spotless kitchen. Then, you see something on the fridge that wasn’t there before and realize someone had left a note. The handwriting looks unfamiliar. Plucking the paper from underneath a magnet, you read.

This food should last you a couple of days. It’s not Jericho’s, but it’s the best I could do.

— Zane

P.S Not judging, but I also cleaned a little.Maybe don’t let it get this bad againif you don’t want rats.

You feel a tinge of embarrassment, knowing Zane had seen your depression-fueled mess. But the embarrassment is quickly overridden by the warmth that settles in your chest, overwhelming and unexpected. 

What did I ever do to deserve a colleague like this?

When you turn back to Silco, you see he’s pointedly avoiding your gaze. 

“I feel as if… I should have done more,” he says softly, a hint of regret in his voice. 

"No, Silco, it's fine. You’ve already done plenty.”

Silence stretches between you.

With so many blank spaces in your memory, it’s impossible to tell where you and Silco stand. After a few minutes of internal wrestling, you put your hand out toward him.

“Thank you.”

He takes your hand and gives it one good shake.

“Thank you. With your cure, maybe I’ll get to see an independent Zaun in my lifetime after all.”

He releases your hand and you feel as if he’s taken a part of you with him as he does. 

Why does this feel like goodbye?

Ocean green and volcanic orange eyes hold your gaze as scarred lips tug upward into a soft smile, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. There’s something else behind his two-toned look, a deep sadness that sends an arrow to your chest.

Then, wordlessly, he starts for the door. He’s a few steps away from it when he pauses. You watch as he reaches into the lining of his coat pocket before placing a small white envelope onto your kitchen island. Turning over his shoulder, he addresses you.

“Perhaps this will jog your memory.”

Your eyebrows furrow. Before you have a chance to question him, he’s walking out the door.

Your eyes dart back and forth between the closed door and the envelope. You’re half tempted to run after him, but the curiosity of the contents of that envelope is too strong. Finally, you tear the seal off, hands shaking all the while. 

In it is a letter in Silco’s pristine, slanted handwriting. Your eyes dart back and forth as you take in every word, your eyebrows curling inward with each line. As you read, images fill your mind, scenes you had forgotten resurfacing.

By the time you reach the end of the letter, a tear falls from your eye to land on the kitchen tile. Mouth agape, you blink as you take in everything you just read, as you’re left to process all the memories that came rushing back to you like a torrential flood.

That night in Silco’s office, his eyes boring into you.

His hands as they trail down your face over your neck.

But then—

Silco’s voice.

Hushed and broken. 

"It's me. I'm the one who should be sorry."

Pleading with you. 

"Stay with me."

Pleading with the gods.

“Kindred, please… not yet.”

And not only that—

“And if you'll forgive a foolish, old man… you have me.”

The letter falls to the ground as your feet lift off, carrying you forward to sprint out your apartment door. Ignoring the tightness in your chest, you throw yourself down the stairs two steps at a time before putting all your weight into the door that’ll take you to the street. Eyes wide, heart racing, lungs burning, you scan for the black carriage that had taken you home.

“Silco!” You yell out as you start to race toward the vehicle that is driving away, getting smaller and smaller by the second. “Silco! Wait—”

Your words are cut short by the wheezing cough that rips through you. You double over, pain tearing through your throat as you continue to cough. One hand clutching your chest as the other clings to your knee, your eyes squeeze shut.

Fuck! I’m still recovering.

You hang your head.

Straightening up, you try to catch your breath. Bringing your hands behind your head, face turned up to the heavens, you take a deep inhale through your mouth, trying to get as much air as you can into your lungs before pushing it out. The breath comes out ragged, but you start to feel a little better. After doing that a few more times, you lower your chin and open your eyes.

To see a black carriage pulling up in front of you.

The back window lowers, revealing Silco.

“What were you thinking?” he asks with furrowed eyebrows. “I saw what you just did; you’ll rip open your—”

Hands reach through the window, grabbing Silco by the lapel. His good eye widens as you pull him forward before crashing your lips into his. He makes a small startled sound as you press your mouth to his, your eyes squeezed shut. After a stunned second, his hands come up to cradle your face as he returns the kiss in kind. 

You cling to his coat, certain that if you let go, your feet will leave the ground and you’ll never be able to come back down. When finally you both part, Silco considers you with a shocked expression, eyes wide, lips parted.

“What are you—”

“I remember, Silco.”

He stares at you.

“I remember everything.” 

You feel out of breath again. You don’t know if it’s from your brief sprint, the kiss, the flood of emotions that’s coursing through your system, or the adrenaline. 

Or perhaps all of the above.

He continues to stare at you wordlessly. Then, his expression shifts, eyes darting to either side of you as he grabs the door handle. You take a step back as he opens the door, his hand quick to find yours, wrapping his long fingers around your wrist. The carriage door slams behind him as he quickly tugs you along, staccato footsteps on the pavement as he leads you back to your apartment. You’ve no choice but to be pulled along. When finally you find yourself back inside your apartment, you close the door behind you. 

You watch as Silco crouches down, picking up his letter from the floor. He straightens up, standing with his back to you, only the marred side of his face visible as he looks at you over his shoulder.

“You remember everything?”

You nod, taking a step toward him. “Yes.”

His abyss eye casts down to the floor, the hand not holding the letter curled into a fist.

“Then…” He pinches his lips together, eyebrows curling inward. “Why did you kiss me?”

The orange iris of his ruined eye lifts back up to your face, but he still doesn’t bring himself to turn fully toward you. He shakes the letter in his hand.

“After what I did to you?”

You take another step, as if approaching a cornered animal. Tentatively, you lift your hand, reaching for his. You wet your lips and take a steadying breath, before wrapping your fingers around his closed fist. You feel his muscles twitch at the contact, but he remains still.

“I remember what you did to me,” you say, voice barely above a whisper. “But—more than that—I remember what you did for me.”

That gets his attention.

He turns over his shoulder a fraction, just enough for you to see the rest of his face. Softly, you continue.

“I heard everything. Everything you said when I was asleep. I…” You let out a nervous laugh. “I thought maybe it was just a dream. That I had hallucinated it while I was unconscious. But after reading your letter, I know it was real.”

His fist relaxes, but the rest of him stays frozen to the spot.

“I heard your apology. I heard your encouragement, your praise, your prayers. You…” You feel a sting forming behind your eyes and a lump growing in your throat. “You guided me home.”

Silco turns around.

With the ways his shoulders hunch forward, you’ve never seen him look so small. He adjusts his hand to hold yours. You reach out for his other hand and he takes it, the letter falling back down to the floor between you. As you stare into his eyes, you’re met with the most broken expression you’ve ever seen on the man.

“I thought I lost you,” he whispers.

You let out a small puff of air out your nostrils.

“In more ways than one, you almost did.”

The pair of you stand like this for a few moments, simply staring into each other’s eyes as your hands are intertwined between you.

“Is it true?” you finally break the silence. “You can’t see a life in Zaun without me?”

He presses his lips together. And maybe it’s just a trick of the light, but you could swear you almost see his throat bob.

“Yes.” He nods his head. “It’s true.”

“So…” You pull your lips through your teeth. “What you said after Sevika left…”

His good eye flutters closed as he lets out a short chuckle.

“You heard that?”

You shrug. “Like I said: I heard ‘everything.’”

He opens his good eye, his gaze on your interlocked hands. His thumb rubs a tender line back and forth on your hand. His eyebrows lift a little as he takes a deep breath in through his mouth. When he lets it out, you can feel it brush over your skin.

“That, too, is true.” He lifts his eyes up to yours. “I cannot march on Piltover if it’s without you. If you’re not by my side.” 

He wets his lips with his tongue, uncharacteristically unsure.

“The truth is…”

His eyes cast to the side, unable to meet your gaze. For once, you’re content to just listen, your mouth sealed shut as you wait.

“I left something out of that letter.”

His eyes flick down to the folded paper on the hardwood before slowly, painstakingly, lifting back up to your eyes.

“I…”

His throat bobs, his eyebrows pinch together. When he speaks, there’s a subtle uncertainty to his voice, like he’s never said it before and doesn’t know if he’s pronouncing it correctly. 

“I love you.”

Your eyes widen, your heart stopping in its tracks. You feel as if all the air has left your lungs as you stare into Silco’s two-toned eyes, searching them for any trace of sarcasm or jest. When you find none, you blink, unable to keep your mouth from hanging open.

Perhaps you misheard him.

Surely, he said something else.

Finally, you find your voice.

“You what? Are you sure?”

He lets out a soft chuckle, a small smile tugging at his scarred lips.

“I’m sorry,” he says, shaking his head. “I know I didn’t exactly say it with the most confiden—”

“No. I mean— Why?”

His head tilts.

“Are you asking why I love you?”

Hearing him say the phrase again jumpstarts your heart. Where once it had stopped entirely, now it beats too quickly. All at once, you feel dizzy. 

Silco’s eyes dart back and forth between yours, quick to catch the way your eyelids start to flutter. In an instant, his arms wrap around you as your body pitches forward, your face pressing into his shoulder as your limbs fall slack.

Somehow, by the grace of Janna, you remain conscious enough to mutter out apologies.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry—”

He chuckles above you, quick to scoop you up in his arms and carry you to the couch. He gently places you down on it, crouching down next to you. His hand comes up to tuck a stray tendril of hair behind your ear.

“You’re like one of those fainting poros,” he jokes.

You laugh, swatting your hand at him.

“It’s your fault; I’m still recovering. You can’t be dropping bombs on me like that.”

“You must have me confused with my daughter. I don’t drop bombs,” he quips.

“No, you just give injured women heart attacks.”

His lips curl into a smile and he laughs.

Not a chuckle. Not a snicker.

Not a short bark or a startled reflex.

Not the sadistic, sinister laugh you heard at the warehouse.

It’s warm and rich, complex and beautiful. It’s so unmistakably Silco that it makes your heart sing. You’ve never heard a more perfect sound. And if that wasn’t enough, there’s a glow in his eyes unlike you’ve ever seen.

It’s all too much.

Too much for your exhausted body.

Too much whiplash for what had been your broken heart.

Unbidden, tears start to run down your cheeks.

It wipes the glee clean off Silco’s face. Quickly, his hands reach out, crading your jawline as his thumbs swipe away your tears.

“I’m sorry. I should not have laughed.”

“No, it’s not that,” you whimper pathetically. “I missed you. I missed this.”

Silco’s lips pinch into a line, a now familiar look of guilt on his face.

You sniffle your nose, unable to keep the tears from flowing.

“All I wanted was for you to apologize and for us to go back to how we were. I know we both fucked up, but I wasn’t ready for it to be the end.”

He nods in agreement, his throat bobbing as his good eye flutters closed.

“It’s my fault.” His voice comes out ragged, like the words are tearing themselves past his throat. “I acted rashly. I cast you aside not once but twice.”

When he opens his good eye, you can see the unmistakable warning signs of a tear forming on the ocean green surface.

“I sent you home after making you read that letter because…”

His hands at your face shift, his shoulders come up in a small shrug.

“I didn’t know what to do.”

He takes in one steadying breath through his nose.

“I’ve made my living as the man in the shadows, doing my work from the dark. I grew accustomed to everyone keeping their distance from me.” He chuckles. “With the sole exception of Jinx.”

He shakes his head, laughing to himself.

“So you’ll have to forgive me. Your declaration of love caught me completely off guard.”

You sniffle your nose and lift your eyebrows.

“Are you saying I managed to disarm the Eye of Zaun?”

He leans forward, nodding his head. One of his hands tangles into your hair as he brings his forehead to rest on yours.

“Yes,” he whispers into the small space between you, that one tear in his ocean green eye falling to land on his unmarred cheek. “You absolutely did.”

And then he’s capturing your lips in a kiss, more tender than you’ve ever known. Without missing a beat, you wrap your arms around his shoulders, pulling him closer as you let your eyes flutter closed, surrendering yourself to his touch. It’s warm and familiar and home.

It’s not long until the familiar sensation of his mouth on yours awakens a deep need in you, a heat pooling in your belly.

You start to straighten up on the couch, still connected to Silco at the lips. He follows your movements, crouching over you as his tongue teases the part of your mouth. You readily accept his request, allowing him to roll his tongue over yours as you start to get to your feet and—

“Ah! Fuck!”

You break off this kiss and fall back to the couch as pain surges through your back in a flash. The sensation only lasts for a few brief seconds, but it’s enough to have you gasping for air.

“Perhaps that’s…” Silco moves to sit next to you, “Enough excitement for one day.”

You nod, energy completely drained from you.

Silco puts his hand out on his lap, his palm turned up to the ceiling, fingers spread in invitation. You lace your fingers through his before letting your head flop onto his shoulder. He chuckles softly under his breath, squeezing your hand.

“Take some time,” he hums. “Take the week to recover. If Singed is correct, you should be good as new in just a few days.”

Your eyes flutter closed, exhaustion overtaking you.

“I can’t…” you hum. “I have to give notice to Thalia…”

“Who’s Thalia?” he asks gently.

“My boss.”

You don’t have to see his face to know that his good eyebrow is ticking upwards in curiosity. You don’t wait for his question before answering.

“I got a job at a tailor shop.”

He hums.

“I thought you said you were ‘useless with thread and needle.’” 

You internally roll your eyes.

“I mostly swept and did inventory.”

You sit like that for a few moments, content to stay in each other’s company again. After a while—and still much too soon—Silco rises to his feet. You mirror his movements, looking up at him.

“I know that Jinx already offered to help you with your bandaging, but if you want… I could—”

“No, Silco, don’t. You’re so busy,” you insist. “Please, don’t worry about me.”

“That’s impossible,” he says dryly, but you can hear the hint of humor behind his voice.

“You have so much on your plate with Piltover. You really don’t have to waste your time with—”

“I want to,” he says, voice firm. “Take it as my penance for all my wrongdoing.”

You stare into his ocean green and volcanic eyes to see a profound sincerity. As if he’s pleading with his eyes.

Let me make it up to you.

Let me prove myself to you.

Finally, you nod.

“But only if it wouldn’t interfere with all your work.”

“Of course.” He smiles. “I can spare an hour every couple days for my brilliant scientist.”

You smile back to him.

“I’m not yours just yet,” you jest. 

He looks back at you stunned, not in on the joke. 

“I have to finish out my work for Thalia first,” you clarify.

Realization dons on his face and you see his shoulders relax.

“So,” he starts, “am I to assume you're accepting my offer?”

You reply by smiling and nodding to him.

“And… the conditions?” he asks, voice unsure.

You pinch your lips together, shaking your head. 

“Those shouldn't be necessary.”

His shoulders relax further, like a heavy weight had been lifted off them.

You walk him to the front door, arms wrapped around your middle. 

“Get some rest,” he says in the doorway. “I’ll be back in two days to do your bandages.”

You nod and smile at him.

“See you then.”

He starts to leave but pauses, turning back around to kiss you softly on your cheek. It sends warmth to your face, a quiet flutter of firelights beating behind your ribs.

“Two days,” he repeats.

“Two days,” you echo.

He turns, heading down the hallway. You close the door behind him, letting out a soft sigh.

Just as you’re about to retreat to your bedroom, there’s a knock at the door. Your eyebrows furrow and you make a face when you find Silco standing at your doorway again.

“You miss me that much?” you tease.

“Yes and no,” he replies, grinning. “This tailor shop you work at. Where is it?”

You cross your arms.

“Why? If you’re thinking of doing something to Thalia—”

“I’m hurt,” he pouts. “Wounded even.”

“Then why do you want to know?”

He crosses his arms, mirroring you.

“Do you trust me?”

It takes you a moment to respond. 

After everything the two of you have been through, after everything he had done specifically to you, could you trust him again?

It’s a question you’ve asked yourself countless times.

And call it naivete, or idealism, or plain stupidity.

But, deep within your heart, behind the cage of your ribs, buried under years of hurt, there’s a small part of you that clings to hope. 

And second chances.

You nod.

He smiles, waiting.

“Oh, right,” you recover, remembering his question. You use your hand to point to the space behind him. “You just go down this street and it’s the fourth shop on the right. You can’t miss it.”

“Thank you,” he says softly, bringing one hand up to stroke your cheek, as if he needed to check you were real one last time before leaving. He says your name gently before adding a soft “good night.”

“Good night, Silco.”

My brilliant scientist,

There is nothing I can say to undo the hurt I caused you. The pain I inflicted upon you with my own two hands. For all my influence, all my power, I cannot turn back time. No matter how much I wish to. The only thing I can do is accept the consequences of my actions and move forward.

But I can't.

I'm stuck in a loop of my own making, playing the same scene over and over again. Asking myself: Why? Why did I do that to you?

No answer suffices. The truth is: what I did to you was inexcusable. Unforgivable.

No matter the perceived slight you may have made against me, it pales to the monstrous sin I committed against you. By allowing my emotions to get the better of me, I became a mirror to your demons. Demons that you had entrusted to me. Demons that had plagued you long before me. And now I am just another nightmare for you to overcome.

For that, I am deeply sorry.

That night, I did two things: I nearly took your life and I fired you. One cannot ever be taken back, but the other I do have the power to rectify. 

It is a meager consolation, a pathetic offering. One I do not suspect you will readily take. 

But, if you wish to return, you would have a place waiting for you in Singed’s lab. You would answer only to him. You would never have to see or speak to me, if that is what you desire. If that is what it takes to ensure your peace of mind.

I almost took your life. The least I can do is offer you back your livelihood.

Yours, if you’ll have me,

Silco

Stay tuned for Chapter 28! The final chapter!

A/N: You didn't think I'd leave you hanging and not show you his letter, did you? ALSO HE SAID IT. HE SAID IT AND THEY RECONCILED. T^T But we still have one more chapter???

As we reach the very end of this fic, I cannot thank you enough for all your support. The comments and reblogs keep me going and I could not have made it this far without all my amazing, loyal readers. Thank you so much. I promise I read every comment and they all bring such warmth to my heart. Truly. Thank you.

Taglist: @averagecrastinator @mazikomo @writingmysanity @insult-2-injury @ariaud @jennrosefx @ins0mniac-whack @steponmesilco  @sherwood-forests @leave-me-alone-silco @givemebeansnow @aeryntheofficial @dreamyonahill @lostbunn @eurydicethesage @thepineapplesimp @whatisafandom @violet-19999 @juicboxd @sageandberries-png @you-never-talk @delta-is-here @sirenofzaun @weirdhorrorenthusiast @cloudroomblog @dad-dumpster @jennithejester @witheringblooddemon @beardedladyqueen @metaheroi

Join my taglist!

---