Blood Really Doesn't Taste That Bad, At Least Mine Doesn't (don't Act Like You Have Never Put Your Bleeding

Blood really doesn't taste that bad, at least mine doesn't (don't act like you have never put your bleeding finger in your mouth after you cut yourself or something) so I'd try it to see if it tasted any different.

Ok so. I have a question. If there was a full glass of human blood in front of you, and the was absolutely no health risk to drinking it, like, that's not ever a factor, how much of it do you think you would drink? Because I would at least take one solid gulp.

reblog to tell your mutual you’re proud of them and it’ll all work out

Hello! I would like to request Cooper Howard x gn!reader (post war, because...murderous cowboy...hnnngh), where they struggle with mental health issues like depression? I've been in a really tough spot, having no energy or motivation to do anything or really any desire to take care of myself. So I was thinking, maybe the reader's mental health is declining, they're slower and sloppier when it comes to keeping up with Cooper and he's more and more frustrated. Then one day he has enough (maybe the reader is taking too long packing up) and threatens to leave them and they're just...passive, because they really don't care anymore about what happens to them. So he realises they haven't been taking care of themselves properly for a while now and then some soft moments with him? I know this is pretty dark and you can change this however you'd like, but I'm dying for some hurt/comfort with this man 🥺 It's totally cool if it's too much for you, if you decide to not write this, please just let me know, so I don't wait for it. Thank you so much, I love your Cooper fics <3

Cooper Howard | The Ghoul x gn!Reader

Synopsis: You’ve been struggling lately, putting both you and your traveling companion in danger. He was bound to confront you about it eventually. Tags: Prompt Request, Not Beta Read, Gender Neutral Reader, Depression, Mental Health, Mentions of Suicide, Disagreements, Comfort, Lazy Day, Cuddling, Beginning Relationships Author's Note: Trigger warning for topics relating to mental health, such as depression and suicide. Please do not read if you’re not in a good mental space. Take care of yourselves. Also, everyone’s experience with depression and mental health issues differs, so I am writing this story the way I experience it. Also, this was a fun challenge to write. Like how the hell would he approach a topic like this? It’s been fun to explore his character like that, and I hope I did it justice. Thank you so much for the request! <333

You used to be able to keep up with the Ghoul. 

Wherever he went, you followed, tearing through the Wastleland without hindrance. You watched his back, and he yours, a security that was unheard of in this world. It was a trusting friendship, bordering on something else, something that neither of you had crossed yet. You couldn't compete with over a hundred years of experience with a gun, but you were able to hold your own quite well. You were a decent shot and someone who never let anyone get the drop on you, senses always sharp. 

So when you started missing easy targets and found yourself surprised by opponents one too many times, you knew it was a matter of time before the Ghoul started asking questions and not believing the first lie that you said. The first time it had happened, you blamed it on your lack of sleep, and he seemed to buy it. And maybe you convinced yourself it was just a lack of sleep, ignoring the darkness that had begun to emerge in your mind. You just needed to rest, was what you told yourself. 

It happened again a few days later, completely missing a target in front of you. Your reactions had begun to slow down, too, unable to avoid the swing of a blade, cutting across your cheek. It was like your body gave up on wanting to move, an unbearable weariness to your muscles that you were unable to shake. Later, as you bandaged the wound on your cheek, the Ghoul confronted you, demanding to know why you were acting so sloppy. You’d merely shrugged, offering up the idea that you were sick. This time he seemed less convinced, yet he had let the matter go. 

You knew why you were acting the way you were. You weren’t unfamiliar with depression, far from it. It was something you’d dealt with your entire life, coming and going like waves. You’d go days, weeks, months and you’d be fine, but then a flip would switch. You’d lose your energy, your motivation, wanting nothing more than to just lay on the ground and never get back up. You’d stop taking care of your body. You’d lose your appetite. Your thoughts would turn dark, ideations and ideas flashing in your mind, things that you’d never tell another soul. 

For the months you’d been traveling with the Ghoul, you’d been able to keep a reign on your depression. Sure, you had your off days, but nothing like this. It was like the universe was punishing you for having such an excellent past months. 

But how could you explain this to your traveling partner? How could you explain that you didn’t have the energy to continue existing, to continue fighting? He needed you to be alert, to not have your thoughts occupied with something, that in perspective to the Wasteland around you, was trivial. 

So you kept your mouth shut, forcing yourself to appear alert and unaffected. You forced those thoughts to the back of your mind. You forced your body to move, no matter how much it screamed at you to just be still.

But it seemed that all that bottling your thoughts up did was make it worse. As the days dragged on, you stopped talking, only muttering small words whenever the Ghoul asked you a question. You’d normally spend the time traveling conversing, and the Ghoul did try to initiate a conversation with you, but no amount of questions and joking and jabs could get you to break. Eventually, he fell quiet too.

Sleeping became a challenge. You’d think with how exhausted your body felt, you’d be able to sleep easily, but the opposite was true. Hours would tick by, and you’d lie awake, getting up the next morning more exhausted than before you went to bed. Your face, already a bit gaunt from living such a difficult life, had grown even more so, the circles around your eyes darkening and your lips growing more chapped. 

You stopped eating, turning away the food he offered you. After you went a few days without eating more than a bite, he practically forced spoonfuls of food into your mouth, snapping at you the entire time. It was humiliating, but you couldn’t bring yourself to change. You just wanted to be done. 

You could tell that your demeanor was starting to annoy the hell out of the Ghoul, whose words had turned shorter and snappier. If you took too long, he’d grab you by the shoulder and drag you along, like an upset parent with their child. Your cheeks would burn every time, tears pickling your eyes, and you’d hang your head. 

There was a tension growing between you and the Ghoul, your friendship growing thin. His guard was up constantly, unable to trust you any longer to watch his back, which hurt you more than any knife or gun. Soft glances disappeared, his gaze scrutinizing when he looked at you. Light touches from him reserved for when you were at rest were no more, as you chose to keep to yourself every night. Instead of walking side-by-side, you’d linger a few feet behind him. You pretended like it was easier this way, to make him push you away, but it was tearing you apart. 

But eventually, that tension snapped. Too many close calls, too many sluggish movements, too many half-hearted excuses finally made him break. You’d just gotten up for the day, another sleepless night behind you, and you were packing up your few belongings. You must’ve been taking too long, because you heard him sigh audibly, standing in the open doorway of the room you’d sheltered in for the night. “What’s your fuckin’ issue?” He growled, arms crossed tight over his chest.

You looked up, feigning confusion. “I dunno what-”

“Bullshit,” he cut you off. He began to walk towards you, his steps methodical, threatening. “You’ve been actin’ like this for weeks, and you’ve only offered me half-assed excuses.” He was seething, and understandably so. He crouched down in front of you, rendering you unable to escape. “So, you,” he stuck a finger in your chest, barely avoiding hitting you, “are gonna tell me why. And don’t even think ‘bout lyin’, sweetheart.”

You swallowed, heart hammering in your chest at the confrontation. Words flooded your mind, a full explanation on the tip of your tongue, yet you just couldn’t bring yourself to utter it. Your mouth opened and closed, struggling, until you eventually just gave up. Sighing, you just shook your head, which pissed him off even more. 

A disbelieving laugh left him, and he ran a gloved hand over his face. “No? You’re kiddin’ me, right?” He didn’t wait for a response. “Ya know, I’ve tried to be lenient. I bought into your fuckin’ lies that you were ‘just tired’, ‘just sick’. I tried to give ya space, to give ya time to get out of this. But you’re gonna get us both killed if ya don’t fix yourself. I can’t be distracted out there, constantly worried ‘bout you and keepin’ you alive, ‘cause it seems like that’s the last thing on your mind.”

He took a breath, steadying his rising voice. “So I’m gonna give ya one more chance to explain yourself, or else I’m leavin’ without ya.”

“Then leave.” Your response came almost immediately, your voice lacking any inflection. Even though in the back of your mind you were screaming at him not to leave, you kept an air of indifference about you, unable to make yourself care. It would be easier if he just left, wouldn’t it? You wouldn’t be putting anyone else in danger, and you wouldn’t have to deal with the guilt you felt of him worrying about you so much. And it would be so much easier to just disappear if there was no one looking for you.

He wasn’t expecting that as a response if the look on his face told you anything. His brow muscles were raised, leaning back from you in shock. But the way he was watching you, it was like he was observing you in a different light, dots beginning to connect in his mind. “You’ll die out there without me.” 

You merely shrugged your shoulders, glancing down to continue packing your belongings, no longer able to look him in the eye. He didn’t respond, simply standing up with a sigh. You didn’t look up, not even as you heard him walk away, backing towards the entrance of the room. You didn’t look up, even as you heard the surprisingly gentle click of the door as it shut. You didn’t look up, even as the tears that you’d been holding for the past weeks finally fell.

You were alone.

You thought it would make you feel better like there would be a weight lifted off your shoulders. But everything just felt heavier, the thoughts in your mind becoming a tempest, making you physically weak. Expletives tumbled from your lips as you sagged down onto your arms, head hung. Of course, he’d fucking leave, you idiot. No one wants to deal with your moping.

A part of you wanted to chase after him, to beg him to stay, but you already felt pathetic enough. You couldn’t blame him for leaving, not at all. You were weighing him down, putting his life in danger; he said so himself. He could only deal with you for so long. You should be grateful that he didn’t leave sooner.

The sound of rustling fabric made you jump, finally looking up. The Ghoul had taken off his jacket, laying it across the back of the couch he had slept on, never having left the room at all. Stunned, you watched him sit, taking his hat off in the process and setting it on the floor. He finally caught your eye then, a soft look on his face, a look you hadn’t seen in a long while. 

“I thought you left,” you whispered, sitting back upright. Embarrassment warmed your cheeks, and you tried to wipe the tears that had fallen on them. 

“I ain’t leavin’ ya, sweetheart.”

“Why not?”

He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “Do you want me to go?” You’d never shaken your head faster in your life. “Then I’m stayin’.”

“But why?”

He sighed. “‘Cause I care ‘bout you. I… Is that too hard to believe?”

It is. Unable to find words, you just shrugged again. 

Something akin to regret or remorse flashed across his face, and muttering something under his breath he reclined against the couch. He was upset, but even now you could tell it was not because of you, at least not fully. “C’mere,” he murmured, patting the couch beside him. “You look like you’re gonna fuckin’ bolt at any second.”

Taking a steadying breath, you complied, albeit with some difficulty, your legs barely wanting to function. His gaze didn’t leave you once, as much as you wished it would, making you want to collapse in on yourself. The walk to the couch felt like it was miles long, but you eventually made your way over to it and him. 

He rolled his eyes when you just stood there in front of him, unsure of what to do with yourself. “Sit down, I ain’t gonna fuckin’ bite.” In another situation, you knew he’d add some comment like unless ya want me to, but he bit his tongue. The couch groaned as you sat next to the Ghoul, keeping a foot between your bodies. “Talk to me,” he commanded, yet his voice was gentle. “What the hell’s goin’ on?”

You picked at the skin around your nails, no doubt drawing blood. “I’m… I’m not quite sure how to explain it,” you responded, and you expected your words to upset the man even more. But he nodded his head slowly, an almost understanding look on his face. “I’m just… done."

“Done with… what? Bein’ out on the road?” You shook your head. “Travellin’ with me?” You shook your head again, this time more vehemently. “Done with what?” You knew that he knew the answer to his question, but he wanted you to say it.

“I’m done with… with existing. I just can’t bring myself to care anymore. I’m just so tired of it all.” You sagged back against the couch like speaking took a toll on your body. “I’m so tired.”

He didn’t respond for a while, mulling over your words. “That… that explains a lot,” he chuckled humourlessly. “Your mind won’t just leave ya the hell alone, will it? It's like all your mind can focus on are these terrible fuckin’ things, no matter what ya do. And it just weighs on ya, like a million pounds, getting worse with every passin’ day until you just wanna… give up.”

He explained it perfectly, and you cocked your head to the side, a bit confused about how he was able to do so. “I ain’t a stranger to what you’re goin’ through. We’re well fuckin’ acquainted, to say the least. So I shoulda recognized it sooner with ya.” 

He paused, sighing. “Wanna know somethin’?” You nodded. “I was too busy thinkin’ ‘bout what I did to upset ya that I didn’t bother to think of any other possible reason as to why you’re actin’ the way you are. But once I realized it wasn’t my fault, not entirely, instead of bein’ there for ya, I was an ass. I thought, because I’m a damn idiot, that you were just mopin’ around for the hell of it, putting us both in danger simply ‘cause you were tired or some shit. Not once did I stop to think why. And I apologize.”

“You don’t gotta-” He cut you off with a pointed look. “I… I accept your apology, then.”

He nodded slowly, content. “I’d like to help ya, sweetheart. I know nothin’ I say or do is gonna make it go away like that… but I’d like to try. Whatever ya need from me, and you’ve got it.”

“I’m not sure what I need exactly,” you admitted quietly.

“When ya figure it out, will ya let me know?” You nodded.

“Just… be patient. As difficult as that is for you.” You hadn’t meant for the jab to come out, but you weren’t taking it back. Especially when a loud laugh left the Ghoul, making a smile of your own appear on your face. It was faint, yet it was there.

An almost starstruck expression appeared on his face, his laughter dying out. “I missed seein’ ya smile,” he murmured as if it was a subconscious thought.

You ducked your head, making him laugh again. “As for bein’ patient, well, I can be that, if that’s what ya need.”

“It’ll take some time,” you cautioned again, indirectly giving him a chance to back out of this. 

“Time ain’t an issue. I’ll wait as long as it fuckin’ takes.”

“You mean it?” Your voice was so soft, barely audible to either of you. 

You watched as one of his gloved hands inched towards you, palm upturned. Tentatively, you placed your in his, eyes growing wide when he brought your hand to his lips, kissing the back of it gently. “I swear,” he uttered, sealing the promise with another press of his lips.

As you returned your tingling hand to your lap, his eyes scanned over your face, a furrow appearing between his brow. “How long has it been since you’ve eaten somethin’? Somethin’ that I didn’t force ya to eat,” he added when you opened your mouth to respond. 

Your silence said enough, and he leaned down to his bag, which he had placed beside the couch when he sat. After a few moments of rustling through, he handed you a small bag of what appeared to be jerky, as well as a small canteen of water. “It ain’ human,” he added when you eyed the bag suspiciously before taking it.

The jerky was salty and tough when you took a bite, not quite wanting to, but unable to not eat under his gaze. You ate in silence until your stomach was full and your teeth hurt from the tough material. Taking a swig of water, you could feel your eyes growing heavy, eating seemingly draining your energy more than replenishing it. Stifling a yawn, you shoved the canteen back into his hand, and you noticed he had an almost pleased look on his face. 

You were confused, though, when he stood, making his way to the entrance of the room. For a moment, those thoughts flashed in your mind that told you that he was finally leaving, that he realized how pathetic you were. But instead of doing any of those things, you watched as he simply wedged a chair under the handle of the door, like he had done before you went to bed for the night. 

“What’re you doing?”

“We takin’ the day off. Doctor’s orders.”

“But aren’t we supposed to be in Filly in a few days?”

“We’ll be fine. You are gonna spend today catchin’ up on some much-needed rest.” He stood in front of you now, a moth-eaten blanket in his hands. 

“And what are you gonna do?” You asked, and he shrugged. 

“Don’t worry ‘bout me, sweetheart. Go ‘head, lie down.”

Your eyes quickly scanned the couch, and you took a deep breath before speaking again. “The couch is big enough for us both, no?”

For the second time that day, you’d stunned him with your responses. “Is… is that what ya want?”

Encouraged that he hadn’t just outrightly said no, you nodded your head, and a fond look crossed his features. He handed you the blanket before sitting once more, but instead of his back being against the cushions, he rested it against one of the armrests, not before tucking a pillow in front of it. 

Once he was situated, he opened up his arms to you, and you could’ve laughed at how uncertain he looked. Hands rested on your body when you laid down, head on his chest, laying on your stomach, and you made sure the blanket covered both your bodies as best you could. You weren’t too worried about covering all of you, though, with the sheer amount of warmth he was radiating. 

His eyes were already on you when you glanced up, a smile pulling at his lips. “Comfy?”

“Yes.” Your voice was barely audible, but he heard it. 

You felt his fidget with something in his hand behind your back, but you didn’t have to wait long to find out what he was doing. You felt fingers run along your scalp, making you shudder, before combing through any hair there. “Alright?”

You sighed contently, nodding your head before letting it fall back onto his chest. He continued to run his fingers there, his other hand tracing patterns across your shoulders. You hadn’t realized how tired you were until now, finding it hard to keep your eyes open. For the first time in a long time, you felt safe. Safe from the world outside this room. Safe from the thoughts that plagued your mind. Safe from everything. 

He didn’t have to see your face to know that you were struggling to stay awake. “Go to bed. I’ll be here when you wake.”

“Promise?”

“Ain’t fuckin’ like I’m gonna be able to get up,” he chuckled, before taking a more serious tone. “I promise.”

That was all you needed to hear before you finally let the final strings of consciousness leave your grasp. Before you lost control of all your senses, though, you felt him lean down, pressing a barely-there kiss to the top of your head. “You’ll get through this, sweetheart.”

You believed him.

Karl Heisenberg who doesn’t know how to face his feelings and who is unfamiliar with domestic affection so instead of outright telling/showing you how he feels he brings random things to you as an offering, sort of like a cat.

“Heisenberg, what is this?” you ask, staring at what appears to be a roughly shaped swan, made entirely out of metal. to be fair, it looks more like a mutation of the bird but you don’t want to offend him.

“…” he gives you a dead stare and says absolutely nothing and just looks at you, waiting for you to pick it up and take it. once you do he just leaves the room and doesn’t bring it up ever again.

this is different than when he’s showing off his other creations to you because when he’s doing that he’s loudly parading around his factory as he gloats about his genius. but when he’s showing you something specifically made for you he’s dead fucking silent.

Omg, thos was so cute! I usually don't enjoy modern AUs, because writers often discard the places, the plot and just put characters in our regular world, so your spin on it is awesome, even though the modern aspect isn't really discussed (still the details like Silco still being The eye of Zaun and Zaun existing in general, are very nice). And I loved the detail about transactional love and being scared of accepting help from others! I felt hat so much ugh, that was such a callout XD

I loved the dialogue between Silco and the reader, it was so cute! I imagine the reader sobering up from the anesthesia and being like "I'm so sorry you had to see that Sil, that was so embarassing..." while he's like "I'm so glad I went with you." XDDDD

Oh and after they come back from the clinic and reader "meeting" Jinx? How funny would that be?? "What's wrong with them?" "They're on strong meds, so they're a little out of it." Meanwhile the reader's like "Your hair is so pretty...Who are you?" "I'm your daughter!" And reader turns to Silco like "WE HAVE A CHILD??" Omg the chaos would be awful XD

Hi, hello! Do you know those cute videos where couples interact while one of them is on hard pain meds after stuff like getting wisdom teeth removed? Well, I would like to request a Silco x gn!reader who had to undergo a procedure like that and Silco visits them afterwards, but they're still zooted on the meds and they don't exactly remember who he is or that they're together, but they do know (and are not afraid to tell him) that he is very handsome. Just completely at aw about him. And when he tells them they're actually together?? The pure adoration from the reader?? The idea is too cute, I'm sorry. Just something fluffy and fun. But if that is not your cup of tea, that is completely fine too. Thank you!

This premise is so stinking cute! Thank you, Robin!

Foreign but Familiar

Masterlist | AO3 link

Rating: Teen. 

Tags: Silco x gn!reader, fluff, domestic fluff, modern au, anesthesia, established relationship, feminine-style engagement ring but only because I like the thought of of Silco proposing with an emerald

Word count: 1,2k

Silco escorts you to get your wisdom teeth removed and is rewarded with a very loopy partner who doesn't remember becoming engaged to him.

“You promise you don't mind? I can get one of my friends to take me—”

“It's fine—”

“I just feel bad cause it's gonna be for a few hours and you're so busy. I don't want to pull you away—”

“I said it's fine—”

“Maybe I could call—”

Silco cuts you off with a stern call of your name. You blink, silenced.

“I told you I would take you, so that’s exactly what I’m doing,” your partner says, voice low. His mismatched eyes lock with yours, rooting you to the spot. 

It almost sounds like a threat, but you suppose that’s to be expected; you’ve never been good at accepting help from others. Your entire life, good deeds in your favor have been used as bargaining chips. Love was transactional, attached with strings. So it’s understandable that you have a hard time breaking those old habits, even when the person offering them is the Eye of Zaun. (Or perhaps because he’s the Eye of Zaun). 

The drive to the dentist is painfully quiet, allowing your mind to turn over anxious thoughts. You’d never been under anesthesia before. Your brain conjures up all possible scenarios—none of them good.

Silco must have sensed your unease because soon his hand is reaching past the gear shift toward you, palm warm against your knee.

“It’s going to be okay,” he coos, eyes focused ahead on the road. “It’s a standard procedure.”

You nod, lips pinched tight.

You put off having your wisdom teeth removed for far too long precisely because of your fear. It wasn’t until Silco encouraged you to finally get it over with that you made the appointment.

Everything goes by in a blur. Various people in scrubs give you forms to sign and tell you everything you need to know as far as the procedure itself as well as aftercare. You can barely hear them over the rushing sound in your eardrums, like an ocean wave that threatens to pull you under. You thank your lucky stars that Silco is there with you, nodding all the while as he listens intently, asking questions on occasion when he needs clarification.

Before you know it, you’re lying in the dentist chair, the bright yellow overhead light hitting your eyes. You squint and hear a calming voice next to you.

There’s a needle prick.

A few minutes of bated breathing.

Then sleep overtakes you.

When you awaken, you feel as if your body is weightless, like you’ll drift off and float to the sky if you’re not careful. Your face feels funny and your mouth feels full and dry. Groaning, you slowly take in the world around you. 

Everything is a blur of bright white walls and yellow lights, with the occasional blob of blue scrubs in your periphery. There’s shuffling and chatter around you, the dentist office busily moving along its day. 

You hear a voice somewhere to your right. It’s a low hum and strangely familiar, almost comforting. A soft (slightly loopy) smile on your lips, you lean toward the sound.

“Mmm…” you hum as you enjoy the melody of the voice next to you.

There’s a small chuckle at that as well as a call of your name and it sends you giggling.

“That’s me,” you say, grinning. “That’s my name.”

You lift your eyes to a blurry image of a face. Head tilting as you take it in, you see an ocean green eye on one side and a dark obsidian black eye on the other. Your eyebrows lift in curiosity as the figure comes more into focus.

Blush settles in your cheeks as you take in more of this stranger’s form. Deep valleys of scars along one side of his face, from his temple to his lips. 

His lips…

Without thinking, you lick yours before lifting your eyes to his, taking in the mismatched gaze.

“Ooooh…” you coo softly to yourself, your attention grabbed by the glowing orange of his corrupted eye. It swirls and dances, mesmerizing in its fluidity. You’re completely transfixed by it, unable to tear your eyes away in your drugged state.  “So pretty…”

The man calls your names and it startles you a little, breaking you out of your trance. 

“Hmm?”

He says something. You can’t quite hear it.

“What?”

He says it again. You can just barely make it out.

“How are you feeling?”

You offer the handsome man a wide cotton ball filled grin. “I’m feeling great.”

You hear giggling behind you from someone in a blue scrub. 

“It’s time to go home,” the man says. “Let’s go.”

Your eyebrows furrow as your head pulls back into your neck.

“Why would I… go home with you?” You squint your eyes at him. “I just met you.” You pout your lips, thinking as hard as the drugs will allow you. 

The man chuckles softly.

“I don’t care how handsome you are, you can’t kidnap me,” you mutter to yourself, but it’s much louder than you ever intended; volume control isn’t exactly one of the first things you regain after waking up. 

The man laughs at that one before reaching for your hand.

“Hey! What are you—”

“Do you remember when I gave you this?” the man asks, lifting your hand so that you see a beautiful ring on your ring finger, gold with a large emerald. It catches the light and shines in a way you’ve never seen before.

“Wow…” you breathe out, moving your hand this way and that so that it sparkles. 

You lift your eyes back to him, the gears in your foggy brain slowly churning. Looking back and forth between him and the ring, you manage to piece it together.

Though, not all of it.

Blush rushes to your cheeks and you bring both hands up to cover them, eyes wide.

“We’re married?!”

He shakes his head, laughing.

“Not yet, darling,” he coos. “But very soon.”

He lifts your hand again, his long fingers warm as they wrap around the tips of yours.

“I gave you this as a promise that we would.”

Your mouth hangs open.

“Well?” you ask. “What’s taking so long?”

He lets out a loud laugh at that one. You feel something warm within your chest at the sound. It feels both foreign yet comforting. Like it’s something precious and rare. Like it’s something only meant for your ears.

“You’re the one who set the date so far,” he explains.

You squint your eyes, unconvinced.

A beat.

“Actually, that does kind of sound like me…” you relent.

You find yourself in the passenger seat of a car, with absolutely no recollection of how or when you got there. Turning, you see that same man from before in the driver’s seat.

“Wait…” Your brain starts to slowly awaken, but not quite enough. “How am I supposed to marry you if I don’t even know your name?”

He chuckles, slowing the car down to a stop before turning to you. He smiles and it makes the lines in his scarred face seem shallower, his entire demeanor shifting to something softer.

“Silco.”

You blink.

“Silco…” you hum to yourself. 

Your mouth pulls into a small grin, secretive and giddy, as you allow your body to sink into the carseat. You repeat the name once more, liking the way it feels on your tongue. 

“Silco.”

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