Silcoitus - Tumblr Posts
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.
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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
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Letters from Silco
In classic me fashion, I have discovered a new hyperfixation within my Silco brainrot and that is writing letters from Silco by hand. I started it with the letter found in TMSA 27 and now I've written one for all Silco simps to enjoy.
A Reminder
Word count: 250
Tags: Silco x gn!reader, established relationship, short-term long distance, soft Silco, horny Silco, suggestive language but no actual smut
My dearest,
I regret that my work has pulled me from you for this long. You can be certain that the person responsible for the mishap—for extending the need for my presence—will be facing serious consequences. This project becomes a larger headache by the day and I must face it without you by my side. But I take comfort knowing that I will be seeing you soon.
I cannot wait to hold you against me again. To look into your eyes and press my lips to yours. I fear, in our time apart, my tongue has forgotten your taste; I'm in desperate need of a reminder. I crave you, need you as a fire needs oxygen.
I have not known relief since leaving your side and I must apologize for the manner in which I intend to reclaim you as mine upon my return. The fervor with which I will devour every last bit of you. I will reacquaint myself with every curve of your body, every exquisite, supple inch of your flesh. I will leave no trace of you untouched, no part of you unworshipped.
You will not leave my sight for a full day.
I will make sure of it.
But until then, I must work swiftly to get our efforts back on track. The sooner this error has been corrected, the sooner I can come home to you.
Wait for me, my beloved, and I will make up for every day lost. I promise you.
Yours,
Silco
If you would like a (digital copy) of a Silco letter of your own, check out this post for details on how to request one!
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 @beardedladyqueen @sirenofzaun
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I've said this before, but I wish I could make a folder on tumblr where I would stash fics like this one when I need comfort.
It would certwinly fix at least one of my problems.
As Long As It Takes
Masterlist
AO3 link
Rating: Mature
Tags: Silco x gn!reader, soft Silco, depression, grief, hurt/comfort, emotional hurt/comfort
Word count: 705
Beta Readers: none. we die like my will to do anything
Silco notices that you've been off. He comes to quietly reassure you as you rest.
A/N: Sorry for the absence. Let's just say the reader in this one-shot is semi-autobiographical. This one's short enough that I'm just going to post the whole thing here.
You've been sleeping a lot more.
You tell yourself it's just from overworking. That it's natural for you to sleep more when you're this drained. You're working longer, harder hours.
But you know that isn't it.
You nap more frequently, for longer periods of time.
You go to bed sooner.
Wake up later.
It's becoming a pattern.
And despite your best efforts to hide it, Silco—your partner—has noticed.
You're in his room, on his bed. The bed you've shared together since you started seeing each other. You still have your own apartment, but you stay at The Last Drop more often than not.
This is where he finds you, laying on your side, your back to the door.
You hear the soft creak of the door’s hinges before a gentle, booted footstep. Then, another step before the door closes.
Silco says your name, voice barely above a whisper, not wanting to wake you if you're still asleep.
Your fingers cling to the pillow as you close your eyes, pretending to sleep.
There's more footsteps as your partner makes his way around the bed, followed by the mattress groaning as he sits. You feel his weight sinking the bed next to you and keep your eyes closed.
Gently, he places his palm on your hip before letting out a deep exhale.
“I won't pretend to know exactly what's going on,” he starts, “Nor that I have all the answers.”
You keep your eyes closed, focusing on his voice.
“But I know something is wrong,” he continues. “Don't think I haven't noticed—the way you retreat here immediately after your shift. The way you've stopped going out.”
He lets out another sigh. When he speaks, his voice seems a little further away, like he's turned his face away from you to look at the wall.
“I could lie to you: tell you it'll get better. But the truth is… sometimes it doesn't.”
Your lips pinch into a line as you feel a familiar sting growing behind your eyes.
“It never really goes away. Grief. Depression. We don't… conquer it, so much as learn to live with it.”
You hear him shift and feel his gaze on your face without seeing it.
“But just know—you don't have to go through this alone. I'll be here to listen when you're ready.”
The both of you stay like this for a moment. You, laying on your side, eyes resolutely shut. Silco, with his hand resting on your hip, mismatched eyes tracking across your face.
After a beat, the mattress squeaks as his weight leaves it. You feel his hand start to leave you and, in an instant, give yourself away as you grab his wrist.
He gives a small startled sound and you turn to look up at him.
“Please don't go,” you whisper, a tear forcing its way past your defenses. “Please stay.”
He looks at you with gentle eyes and gives you a small nod before sitting back down. As he does, both your hands move, fingers lacing together.
Your throat bobs and your eyes turn down, looking at the sheets to avoid his gaze.
“I'm not ready.”
When you dare look up at him, he answers by simply shaking his head.
“It's okay.”
He leans down and brings his scarred lips to your temple. You melt a little into the touch, eyes fluttering closed at the warm contact. When he pulls away, it's a mere inch, his breath still in your hair as he whispers.
“I'll wait as long as it takes.”
You pinch your lips together, eyes still closed tight as you nod.
At that, Silco shifts to move behind you. He maneuvers his way under the sheets, his arm wrapping around your waist. You feel him slot himself behind you, his chest pressed into your back as his legs perfectly fit behind yours. You cling to his arm, pulling him closer.
He buries his face in your neck, taking in a deep breath before kissing you gently there.
And as you both drift off to sleep, you feel just a little bit more hopeful.
Maybe tomorrow will be a little bit better.
How bad could it really be?
When you have Silco?
Taglist: @averagecrastinator @mazikomo @writingmysanity @insult-2-injury @ariaud @jennrosefx @ins0mniac-whack @steponmesilco @sherwood-forests @leave-me-alone-silco @givemebeansnow @aeryntheofficial @dreamyonahill @lostbunn @whatisafandom @violet-19999 @juicboxd @sageandberries-png @sirenofzaun @blissfulip @mutedwordz @fly-like-egyptian-musk @jennithejester @mrsdelirium @witheringblooddemon
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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.”
Taglist: @averagecrastinator @mazikomo @writingmysanity @insult-2-injury @ariaud @jennrosefx @ins0mniac-whack @steponmesilco @sherwood-forests @leave-me-alone-silco @givemebeansnow @aeryntheofficial @dreamyonahill @lostbunn @whatisafandom @violet-19999 @juicboxd @sageandberries-png @sirenofzaun @blissfulip @mutedwordz @fly-like-egyptian-musk @jennithejester @mrsdelirium @witheringblooddemon
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