Stronger Than Chains

you write for helluva boss?

Yes, I do, @ultimategraffitiguy. I added it to my last of fandoms :}

Ember in the Dark pt.9

Young!Silco x Fem!Reader

pt.8 - pt.10

pt.1

Warnings: Power Imbalance/Oppression, Police Brutality, Mild Violence, Substance use, Pregnancy/Childbirth, Postpartum Exhaustion

Word Count: 7609

Summary: More tensions rise with Piltover as Felicia nears the end of her pregnancy. The group all rally around her, especially when she goes into labor and gives birth to a daughter, Violet. (Y/N) unexpectedly steps into a caretaker role, bonding deeply with Violet and becoming a steady, calming force- especially for Silco, whose growing frustration with the Enforcers is barely contained. As she softens in ways she didn’t expect, Silco begins to see her a bit differently, their relationship deepening through quiet gestures and unspoken trust. With Violet’s arrival, the group finds brief comfort and unity, even as the world outside remains uncertain. Amid it all, (Y/N) and Silco draw closer, finding something worth protecting in each other- and in the fragile new life they’ve all welcomed into Zaun.

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The bar had settled into its late-night lull, the hum of conversation reduced to low murmurs and the occasional clink of glass. The air was warm, thick with the scent of cheap whiskey and the faint burn of tobacco.

Felicia sat at the counter, one hand lazily drumming against her stomach. She was showing more now, the curve of her belly undeniable beneath her loose-fitting shirt. Vander stood behind the bar, wiping down the counter with slow, methodical movements, while Silco leaned against the back wall, arms crossed, his ever-watchful gaze fixed on nothing in particular.

(Y/N) slid into the stool next to Felicia, nudging her with her elbow. “Getting real now, huh?”

Felicia huffed, giving a mock glare. “You mean the constant backaches, the swollen feet, or the fact that I can’t even tie my own damn boots anymore?” She sighed, rubbing her temple. “Yeah. It’s real.”

Vander chuckled, setting a glass of water in front of her. “You’re handling it better than most.”

“Handling it,” Felicia repeated dryly. “Sure. Let’s go with that.”

Silco smirked, his fingers tapping idly against his arm. “You say that like it you didnt cause it.”

Felicia rolled her eyes. “Yeah, yeah. Keep being an ass, Silco. We’ll see how smug you are when I make you babysit.”

Silco’s smirk faltered just slightly, and (Y/N) laughed, leaning against the counter. “Oh, that’s happening. No getting out of it.”

Before Silco could formulate a response, the front door swung open, and a few stragglers stumbled out into the street, leaving the place mostly empty aside from their little group. It was quieter than usual- most folks had cleared out early, wary of the increased Enforcer patrols lately.

Vander took a deep breath, tossing the rag over his shoulder. “You all hear what happened in the Lanes today?”

(Y/N) straightened slightly. “What now?”

Vander leaned on the counter, voice dropping just a bit. “Couple of kids got cornered by Enforcers. Supposedly, they were just lifting some food, but instead of scaring them off, the bastards roughed ‘em up. Left one barely able to walk.”

Felicia frowned, shaking her head. “Damn…”

Silco’s jaw tightened, his fingers stilling. “And what did Topside have to say about it?”

Vander sighed. “Same as always. They don’t care. They never have.”

(Y/N) felt the shift in the air, the familiar tension settling over Silco’s shoulders. His frustration had been simmering beneath the surface for months now, each new injustice adding to the weight of it.

Felicia noticed it too. She nudged him lightly with her foot. “Don’t go starting shit, Silco.”

His eyes flicked to her, sharp, but he said nothing.

Vander, watching him closely, exhaled. “Look, I know it ain’t fair. But picking a fight right now? It ain’t the move. We can’t afford trouble.”

Silco scoffed under his breath, but (Y/N) reached out, her fingers brushing against his wrist. It was a small touch, grounding, but enough to make him glance her way. She didn’t say anything, just held his gaze, and after a moment, he exhaled through his nose, tension easing- if only slightly.

Felicia stretched, pushing herself up from her seat. “Well, I don’t know about you all, but I’m heading out before the kid decides to start kicking my ribs in again.”

Vander smirked. “Need help getting to Connol’s?”

Felicia shot him a look. “I’m pregnant, not helpless.”

(Y/N) laughed, and Vander held his hands up in surrender. “Alright, alright.”

Felicia shook her head fondly before heading out, disappearing into the night.

Silco let out a long breath, running a hand through his hair. “One of these days, Vander, your patience with Piltover is going to cost us.”

Vander’s gaze hardened. “And rushing into a fight we can’t win will cost us more.”

The two stared at each other for a long moment, the weight of unspoken arguments lingering between them.

(Y/N), sensing the brewing storm, slid off her stool, looping an arm around Silco’s. “Come on, let’s get some air.”

He hesitated, but eventually let her pull him toward the door, stepping out into the quiet streets of the Undercity- of Zaun. The name still wasn’t fully embraced, but it was catching on. It was something.

(Y/N) leaned against him slightly. “One step at a time, yeah?”

Silco exhaled, his arm tightening around her just slightly. “Yeah,” he murmured. “One step at a time.”

The Lanes were quieter at this hour. The usual chaos had simmered down to a dull murmur, the occasional burst of laughter or clatter of metal breaking the silence. The smell of damp stone, oil, and something vaguely metallic lingered in the air.

(Y/N) walked beside Silco, her fingers slowly sliding down his wrist before settling into his palm. He didn’t pull away. Instead, his grip tightened slightly, grounding himself in the quiet presence of her beside him.

They weren’t heading anywhere in particular, just moving through the Lanes, letting the weight of the conversation in the bar settle.

Silco let out a slow breath, rolling his shoulders. “You ever wonder what it would be like… if Piltover actually gave a damn?”

(Y/N) glanced at him. “Sometimes. But I don’t waste too much time on it.”

Silco scoffed. “Why not?”

She shrugged. “Because it won’t change anything. And thinking about what-ifs just makes it worse.”

He hummed, considering her words. His thumb brushed absentmindedly over her knuckles, though his gaze was distant, fixed on the uneven cobblestone ahead of them. “It’s exhausting. Watching them act like they’re better than us. Letting us scrape by while they thrive off our work. You heard what happened today, and it won’t stop. It never stops.”

(Y/N) squeezed his hand. “I know.”

They walked a bit further in silence, the faint glow of distant street lanterns casting long shadows against the alley walls.

Finally, she spoke again. “You’re not wrong. About any of it.”

Silco glanced at her, waiting.

She met his gaze, eyes steady. “But we both know what happens if you push too soon. We-... I can’t afford to lose you, Silco.”

Something in his expression softened, just barely. He exhaled slowly, dragging his free hand through his hair. “You make it sound like I’m reckless.”

(Y/N) smirked. “Because you are... We all are.”

Silco gave a quiet huff of laughter, shaking his head. “You’re insufferable.”

“And yet, here we are.”

A comfortable silence stretched between them as they continued walking. The Lanes weren’t empty, but the people who still lingered in the streets paid them little mind. A few familiar faces nodded in passing, a silent acknowledgment, before disappearing into the alley’s.

Eventually, they found themselves at one of the higher walkways overlooking the Undercity. From here, they could see the sprawling tangle of buildings, the dim glow of neon signs flickering in the distance. Smoke curled up from the factories, mixing with the ever-present green shimmer of lights.

Silco leaned against the railing, eyes scanning the city below.

“This place deserves better,” he murmured.

(Y/N) rested her arms beside his, close enough for their shoulders to brush. “Then we make it better.”

Silco turned his head toward her, searching her face for something. Eventually, his hand found hers again, intertwining their fingers.

The quiet of the night was interrupted by the rhythmic clatter of heavy boots against the cobblestone.

Silco tensed immediately, fingers twitching against the railing as his sharp gaze flicked toward the source of the sound.

(Y/N) squeezed his hand gently, a silent warning. She pulled a cigarette from her pocket, lighting it with practiced ease before taking a slow drag. The ember flared, casting a brief glow across her face as she exhaled.

“Enforcers,” she muttered under her breath, voice low. “Keep your head down, don’t give them a reason to stop.”

Silco exhaled sharply through his nose, but he gave a subtle nod.

They remained still as the group of Enforcers approached- three of them, two women and a tall man leading the way. Their uniforms were pristine, stark against the grime of the Undercity.

Despite their silence, the Enforcers stopped in front of them anyway.

The man at the front eyed them both, head tilting slightly. “Out late, aren’t we?”

Silco didn’t even try to mask his disdain. “So standing outside is forbidden now too?”

(Y/N) discreetly nudged his side, a subtle reminder not to push too far.

She took another slow drag, exhaling the smoke before responding, “Just out for a smoke.”

The Enforcers didn’t look convinced. One of the women shifted, arms crossing over her chest as she eyed them both.

“Funny,” she said. “Most people down here scatter when they see us coming.”

Silco smirked, voice laced with dry amusement. “And yet, here we are.”

(Y/N) shot him a warning glance.

The tall man studied them a moment longer before stepping closer, looking Silco up and down like he was sizing him up. “Got names?”

(Y/N) rolled her eyes, flicking ash from her cigarette. “Didn’t know names were required to stand in our own city.”

The man scoffed. “Your city?” He glanced at the other two, a smug grin tugging at his lips. “That’s rich.”

Silco’s jaw clenched, but he said nothing. (Y/N) could feel the tension radiating off him, the way his fingers curled slightly against the railing.

The second woman finally spoke up. “We’ll be patrolling this area all night. I suggest you both move along before we find a reason to keep you here.”

(Y/N) nodded, grabbing Silco’s wrist. “Yeah, yeah. We’re going.”

She pulled him away before he could say something that’d make things worse.

The Enforcers watched them for a few more moments before turning and continuing their route, their boots echoing against the stone as they disappeared into the darkness.

Once they were out of earshot, Silco exhaled sharply. “They think they own this place.”

(Y/N) took another drag of her cigarette, her fingers still wrapped around his wrist. “I know.”

Silco glanced down at where she held onto him, his anger still simmering, but beneath it was something else- something quieter.

“…I hate them.” His voice was calm, almost eerily so.

(Y/N) didn’t argue. She just laced her fingers through his again. “I know.”

(Y/N) kept her grip on Silco’s hand as they made their way back toward the bar, her thumb absently brushing against his skin in an attempt to keep him grounded.

“Just let it go for tonight,” she murmured, watching the way his jaw stayed tight, his eyes burning with frustration.

Silco scoffed, shaking his head. “Let it go? You saw them, (Y/N). They stop us for nothing. Just because they can- because no one down here can stop them.” His free hand twitched at his side. “And they think it’s funny.”

(Y/N) sighed, nudging him lightly with her shoulder. “I know. I hate them too, but getting all worked up over it right now isn’t gonna change anything.”

Silco let out a sharp breath through his nose but didn’t argue.

By the time they reached the bar, it was mostly quiet inside- Felicia was gone, and Vander was nowhere in sight. The faint scent of smoke and spilled liquor still lingered in the air, a comforting kind of familiar.

As soon as the door shut behind them, Silco didn’t even hesitate.

He grabbed her wrist and strode toward the bar, tugging her along as he muttered under his breath.

(Y/N) sighed but followed, watching as he grabbed his worn journal from its usual spot behind the counter. He flipped it open, snatching up a pencil before immediately scrawling down his thoughts with quick, sharp strokes.

“They patrol these streets like they’re theirs,” he muttered, writing furiously as he spoke. “They walk through our city and act as if we should be grateful for their presence- like we owe them something.” He scoffed, shaking his head. “Zaun belongs to us, not them. And yet, they still try to keep us beneath their boot.”

(Y/N) leaned against the bar, watching as he continued to scribble down his thoughts. She took another slow drag of her cigarette, letting the moment pass in silence.

Finally, she exhaled, smoke curling between them as she muttered, “You’re gonna run out of pages at this rate.”

Silco paused, glancing up at her. His fingers still gripped the pencil tightly, knuckles faintly white.

“…I need to write it down,” he admitted, voice quieter now. “If I don’t, I feel like I’ll suffocate on it.”

(Y/N) studied him for a moment before nodding, reaching over to grab his half-full glass left on the bar from earlier. She pushed it toward him.

“Then write,” she said simply. “Get it out.”

Silco held her gaze for a long moment before finally relenting. He picked up the glass, took a slow sip, and then returned to his journal.

(Y/N) didn’t push him to stop. She just sat there, finishing her cigarette, keeping him company as he poured his frustration onto the pages.

Vander stepped out from the back, rubbing a towel over his hands, and immediately spotted Silco hunched over the bar, writing furiously. (Y/N) sat beside him, cigarette between her fingers, watching with quiet patience.

Vander sighed. “Alright,” he muttered, tossing the towel onto the counter as he walked over. “What happened this time?”

Silco didn’t look up. “Enforcers,” he said simply, the word laced with venom as he continued writing.

Vander exhaled through his nose, glancing at (Y/N) for clarification.

She rolled her eyes, flicking the ash from her cigarette. “We were just out for a smoke. They decided to stop us and start asking questions.” She shrugged. “Nothing new.”

Silco scoffed, shaking his head. “That’s the problem. It shouldn’t be normal, but it is. They act like they own everything- even the damn streets we stand on.” He jabbed the pencil against the page, underlining something aggressively. “They weren’t even looking for anything. They just wanted to remind us who’s in control.”

Vander frowned, crossing his arms. “You didn’t mouth off too much, did you?”

Silco shot him a look.

Vander sighed again. “I mean it, Silco. We can’t afford to be on their radar right now.”

Silco clenched his jaw but didn’t argue. (Y/N) nudged his foot lightly with hers. “I already got on him about that,” she muttered. “He behaved.”

Vander gave Silco a long, knowing look before shaking his head and grabbing himself a drink. “Good. Let’s keep it that way.”

Silco let out a sharp exhale and finally- finally- set the pencil down. He ran a hand through his hair before rubbing his eyes, the frustration still simmering under his skin.

Vander leaned against the counter, taking a slow sip of his drink. “Look, I get it,” he said after a moment. “I do. But we gotta pick our battles. Fighting every time they piss us off?” He shook his head. “That ain’t winnable.”

Silco muttered something under his breath, but Vander ignored it.

(Y/N) reached over, lightly tapping Silco’s journal with her fingers. “You feel better now?”

Silco studied the pages, his jaw working. After a long pause, he exhaled and gave a small, reluctant nod.

“…Yeah,” he admitted.

(Y/N) smirked, tapping the journal again. “Good. Then drink something and cool off before you start a revolution right here at the bar.”

Vander chuckled at that, though Silco only shot her a dry look before grabbing his glass.

The tension in Silco’s shoulders finally began to ease as he nursed his drink, but (Y/N) could still feel the way his fingers drummed against the bar- a telltale sign that his mind was still running a mile a minute.

Vander watched him for a moment before sighing and rubbing a hand over his face. “Look, I know you hate it, Silco. I do too. But we need to be smart. We can’t afford to stir up trouble, not now.”

Silco scoffed. “Smart would be not letting Piltover walk all over us in the first place.”

(Y/N) shot him a warning look, nudging his thigh with hers. “Silco.”

He exhaled sharply through his nose, but he didn’t push the argument further. Instead, he took another sip of his drink, fingers tightening around the glass.

Vander shook his head, but before he could say anything else, the door to the bar swung open.

Felicia walked in, looking tired but in good spirits, her hand resting on the curve of her growing stomach. She glanced at the three of them, raising an eyebrow. “Why do you all look like you just got chewed up and spit out?”

(Y/N) sighed. “Silco had a run-in with Enforcers.”

Felicia let out a groan, dragging a hand down her face as she made her way over to the bar. “Of course he did.”

“I didn’t do anything,” Silco muttered, though the bitterness was still clear in his voice.

Felicia waved him off. “Yeah, yeah, and I’m sure you were just a ray of sunshine about it.” She lowered herself onto a stool, exhaling. “Connol would have a fit if he knew I came back out here this late, but I needed some air... Snuck back over here after he passed out.”

(Y/N) tilted her head, watching her friend carefully. “Everything okay?”

Felicia hesitated, glancing down as she tapped her fingers against the counter. “Yeah,” she finally said, but her voice lacked its usual energy. “Just… adjusting. It’s all just… A lot. Ya know?”

Vander placed a hand on her shoulder, giving her a reassuring squeeze. “You’re not alone in this, Fel.”

She gave him a tired smile. “I know. That’s why I’m here.”

For a moment, the conversation lulled into a comfortable silence. Silco, having finally calmed down, leaned against (Y/N), resting his chin on his hand as she absentmindedly ran her fingers over the back of his.

Vander took a deep breath, glancing at each of them in turn before speaking. “Look, I know things are changing. For all of us. But we stick together, yeah? No matter what.”

Felicia smiled. “Yeah. No matter what.”

Silco didn’t say anything, but the way his fingers curled around (Y/N)’s told her he was thinking the same thing.

The days started to pass in a blur. The Undercity was alive with its usual chaos, but within the walls of The Last Drop, an anxious energy had settled over their group. Felicia was nearing her due date, and while she was still as sharp-tongued as ever, there was an underlying exhaustion in her movements, a weight to her steps.

(Y/N) found her leaning against the bar one evening, hand resting on the curve of her belly as she sipped at a cup of tea. Vander had all but banned her from drinking anything stronger, and despite her grumbling, she hadn't put up much of a fight.

“You alright?” (Y/N) asked, sliding onto the stool next to her.

Felicia sighed, rubbing a slow hand over her stomach. “Define alright.”

(Y/N) smirked. “Not in immediate distress?”

Felicia let out a tired laugh. “Guess I’m alright, then.” She exhaled sharply, shaking her head. “I just want this kid out already. If I have to waddle up and down those damn stairs one more time, I’m throwing myself off ‘em.”

Silco, seated at the other end of the bar, raised a brow but didn’t comment. He’d taken to watching everything more closely these past few weeks, as if expecting Felicia to suddenly go into labor right in front of them.

Vander, ever the caretaker, appeared from the back with a fresh glass of water, placing it in front of Felicia with a knowing look. “You should be resting.”

Felicia rolled her eyes. “Resting? In this place?” She gestured vaguely to the lively bar, where the usual ruckus of drinkers and gamblers filled the air. “Yeah, sure, let me just take a nap on the damn pool table.”

Vander sighed but didn’t push the issue. Instead, he ruffled her hair- a move that earned him a glare- as he turned to (Y/N). “And you? Keeping this one outta trouble?” He nodded toward Silco, who smirked against the rim of his glass.

(Y/N) let out an exaggerated sigh, resting her chin in her hand. “Trying my best, but you know how he is.”

Silco hummed. “I take offense to that.”

“Do you?” she teased.

“Not enough to stop.”

Before the conversation could continue, Felicia suddenly inhaled sharply, her fingers gripping the edge of the counter. Vander was at her side instantly, concern flashing across his face.

“What is it?”

Felicia clenched her jaw, exhaling through her nose. “What do you think?” she muttered. “Shit. Okay. Yeah. This is happening.”

A brief silence followed before (Y/N) blinked. “Wait- now?”

Felicia shot her a dry look. “No, I just enjoy false alarms.”

Vander’s eyes widened before he sprang into action. “Alright, alright- Silco, go get Connol.”

Silco was already on his feet, moving swiftly toward the door without argument. (Y/N) stood as well, steadying Felicia when she swayed slightly.

“Shit,” Felicia muttered again, gripping (Y/N)’s arm. “This is really happening.”

(Y/N) squeezed her hand. “We got you.”

Vander’s voice was firm as he turned toward one of the regulars. “Go get Ren- the doc down by the Fissures. Tell her we need her now.”

The bar’s usual noise dulled as people began to realize what was happening. Even those deep into their drinks straightened, exchanging glances as Vander helped Felicia toward the back. This was it.

Violet was coming.

Vander and (Y/N) helped Felicia into the back, guiding her toward the large basin they had set up in advance. It wasn’t much, but it was the cleanest and most private place they could manage in The Last Drop. 

“Alright, easy now,” Vander muttered as they eased her down, Felicia gripping his arm in a way that made him wince.

(Y/N) hovered nearby, adjusting the blankets and towels they had stocked up for this exact moment. “See? The baby bin was a good idea,” she quipped, though the grin on her face was half-nervous energy.

Felicia shot her a glare between labored breaths. “Swear to god, (Y/N), if you call it that one more time, I’ll personally haunt you from the grave.”

(Y/N) held up her hands in surrender, but her smirk remained.

Before Felicia could threaten her further, a sharp pain stole her breath, her fingers tightening in Vander’s grip. He murmured something low and reassuring, rubbing slow circles along her back.

The door banged open, and Silco stepped in, Connol right behind him. Connol’s face was paler than usual, his eyes wide as he took in the scene.

“She-?” he started, but Felicia cut him off with a growl.

“No, I just enjoy sitting in a tub for fun. Yes, Connol, she’s coming.”

Connol swallowed hard but nodded, moving quickly to her side. He knelt beside the basin, brushing damp strands of hair from Felicia’s forehead. “I’m here,” he murmured. “I got you.”

Felicia’s gaze softened- just for a moment- before another contraction hit, and she nearly crushed his fingers in hers.

The next few hours blurred into a haze of pain, muttered reassurances, and Felicia cursing like a sailor. Ren, the woman Vander had sent for, arrived quickly, taking charge with a practiced calm. “Alright, breathe, girl. We’re doing this.”

(Y/N) stayed close, offering Felicia sips of water between contractions while Vander kept her steady. Silco stood nearby, arms crossed, eyes sharp as he watched everything unfold. He didn’t speak much, but he didn’t leave either.

At some point, (Y/N) felt a hand brush against hers, and when she glanced up, she saw Silco had moved closer. He didn’t say anything, just gave her fingers a small squeeze before letting go.

And then- after what felt like both forever and no time at all- a sharp, gasping cry filled the room.

Silence fell as Ren caught the tiny, wriggling newborn, carefully cleaning her before wrapping her in one of the blankets (Y/N) had set aside. She turned to Felicia and Connol, a rare smile tugging at her lips.

“It’s a girl.”

Felicia let out something between a laugh and a sob, her head falling back against Vander’s shoulder. Connol was already reaching out, his hands shaking as he took the tiny bundle from Ren.

Vander exhaled, running a hand through his hair. “Shit,” he muttered, but he was smiling.

(Y/N) leaned over, peering at the newborn. “Well, hello there, Violet,” she murmured, smiling softly at the small girl.

Felicia sighed, exhausted but content, as she reached for her daughter. As soon as Violet was in her arms, she quieted, curling up against her mother’s chest.

Silco, standing just behind (Y/N), exhaled softly. “A new addition to Zaun,” he mused.

Vander snorted. “To the Undercity,” he corrected, though there was no real fight behind it.

Silco smirked. “For now.”

(Y/N) rolled her eyes but didn’t comment. Instead, she just leaned against Silco’s side, watching as Felicia and Connol marveled at their daughter.

The Last Drop had always been filled with noise- arguments, laughter, plans whispered in the dark. But tonight, for just a moment, everything felt quieter.

Violet was here. And the world had changed just a little more.

The room slowly settled after the chaos of birth, the sharp edge of urgency fading into something softer. Felicia was exhausted, her head lolling against Connol’s shoulder as he helped her up from the tub. Vander hovered close, just in case she needed more support, but Connol held her steady.

“C’mon, love,” Connol murmured, pressing a kiss to her damp forehead. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”

Felicia barely had the energy to nod, but she leaned into him as he led her upstairs to the washroom. Vander followed them partway before stopping at the base of the stairs, watching until they disappeared.

That left (Y/N) with Violet.

She adjusted her hold on the tiny newborn, cradling her carefully as she made her way to the back booths. The baby was warm, bundled snugly in the softest blanket they could find. Her little fingers twitched, curling slightly in sleep.

Ren, ever the watchful presence, remained nearby, settling in the seat across from (Y/N). She was quiet as she cleaned off her hands, but her sharp gaze stayed on Violet, monitoring every little movement.

(Y/N) shifted slightly, rocking the baby as she let out a tiny whimper. “Hey now, no need for that,” she murmured, voice soft. “You’ve had a big day already.”

Violet let out a tiny, breathy sigh, nuzzling deeper into the blanket.

Ren smirked. “You’ve got the touch,” she commented, leaning back in her seat.

(Y/N) scoffed lightly. “You say that like I haven’t been around babies before.”

Ren shrugged. “Still. She likes you.”

(Y/N) glanced down at the small bundle in her arms, the steady rise and fall of Violet’s tiny chest. A small, unfamiliar warmth bloomed in her chest.

She pressed a finger gently against Violet’s palm, watching as the baby’s tiny fingers curled around it.

“She’s so small,” (Y/N) murmured.

Ren nodded. “They always are.”

A moment of quiet settled between them, only the faint sounds of the bar in the distance filling the space.

(Y/N) exhaled, leaning back slightly in the booth. “You think she’ll be okay here?” she asked, voice low.

Ren studied her for a moment before replying, “She’ll be okay as long as she’s got people who give a damn about her.”

(Y/N) smirked slightly. “Well, then she’s got a damn good start.”

Ren huffed out a small laugh but nodded in agreement.

(Y/N) looked down at Violet again, her thumb tracing slow circles along the baby’s hand. “Welcome to Zaun, little one,” she whispered.

After some time, Connol came back downstairs, looking far more at ease than when he had first gone up. His hair was still slightly damp from where Felicia had likely splashed him in the bath, but there was a softness in his expression that hadn’t been there before.

(Y/N) carefully handed Violet over, watching as Connol took the baby with gentle hands, cradling her close to his chest. For someone who had been panicked about fatherhood, he certainly looked like he had already fallen into the role.

“She’s a quiet one,” (Y/N) mused, stretching slightly as the weight of the baby left her arms.

Connol chuckled, rocking Violet slightly. “Let’s hope she stays that way.” He glanced toward the stairs. “Felicia’s asking for her.”

(Y/N) nodded, watching as he made his way upstairs, disappearing into the guest room Vander had prepared weeks ago. It had been his idea to set up the room, knowing full well that expecting Felicia to go back and forth between Connol’s apartment and the bar after giving birth was ridiculous.

“She’ll be better off here for a bit,” Vander had said, arms crossed as he stood in the doorway, looking over the freshly made bed and the small bassinet tucked in the corner. “Least until she’s ready to be up and about again.”

Vander had been right. Now, with Felicia recovering and Violet so small, it was easier to have them close.

(Y/N) leaned back into the booth with a sigh, rubbing her arms lightly. The warmth of the newborn was already missed, but a dull ache lingered in her shoulders from holding her so long. Ren, still sitting across from her, was watching the stairs before shifting her gaze back to (Y/N).

“You alright?” she asked.

(Y/N) nodded slightly. “Yeah. Just… glad there were no complications…”

Ren hummed in agreement but didn’t press further.

A moment later, Silco appeared, making his way over to their booth with a slow, measured stride. He didn’t say anything as he slid in beside (Y/N), settling in close enough for their legs to brush beneath the table.

(Y/N) glanced at him, arching a brow. “You good?”

Silco exhaled through his nose, leaning his elbow on the table as he studied her. “You were holding the baby for a long time.”

(Y/N) smirked. “What, worried my arms are gonna fall off?”

Silco scoffed lightly, but there was something thoughtful in his expression. “Just didn’t think you were the type to get all soft over a newborn.”

Ren snorted at that. “She was cooing at her.”

(Y/N) rolled her eyes. “Oh, shut up.”

Silco smirked, shifting slightly so his arm draped over the back of the booth behind her. “I suppose it suits you.”

(Y/N) shot him a look, but Silco only grinned, reaching over to steal her cigarette from the ashtray. She let him, shaking her head as he took a slow drag.

The three of them sat there in quiet for a moment, the noise of the bar distant, the air between them easy.

Eventually, Vander’s voice carried over from behind the counter. “You two planning on sitting there all night, or you gonna help me close up?”

(Y/N) sighed dramatically, pushing herself up from the booth. “Yeah, yeah, we’re coming.”

Silco took another lazy drag before finally moving, and Ren stretched before standing, heading out of the bar to leave them to it. The bar was winding down, but the night still had a few hours left in it.

And as they worked together, cleaning up for the night, there was an unspoken understanding between them.

Zaun- their Zaun- had just gained its newest citizen.

After Violet’s birth, time passed in a blur.

Felicia was exhausted, but she was managing. Connol barely left her side, and between (Y/N), Vander, and Silco she always had someone around to help her with Violet. Despite all the teasing about the "baby bin," (Y/N) had taken to the newborn more than anyone expected. Whenever Felicia needed rest, (Y/N) was the first to scoop Violet up, walking her around the bar, humming soft melodies as she cradled her close. Even Silco had been caught watching them with a raised brow, though he never commented on it.

The Undercity had been relatively quiet, though tensions with Piltover never truly faded. Enforcers still patrolled the Lanes, their presence an ever-looming reminder that peace was fragile.

One evening, after the bar had finally emptied out, Vander leaned against the counter, running a rag over a glass before setting it down. “So,” he started, looking toward Felicia, who was sitting with Violet in her arms, slowly rocking her. “You given any thought to when you’re heading back to Connol’s?”

Felicia let out a tired sigh, shifting Violet slightly. “Haven’t really thought about it.” She glanced toward Connol, who was sitting beside her, his hand resting on her knee. “I mean, I know we can’t stay here forever, but-”

“You can stay,” Vander cut in. “Long as you need.”

Felicia gave him a small smile. “Thanks, Vander.”

Time moved strangely in the days that followed- marked less by clocks and more by feedings, naps, and the soft lull of lullabies echoing through the walls. The once-rowdy atmosphere of The Last Drop had softened around the edges. It hadn’t lost its grit, but it had found something gentler nestled in its corners. Slowly, routines formed. Chaos gave way to rhythm. And though everyone knew things couldn’t stay this way forever, no one was in a rush to change it.

Gone were the lazy, whiskey-slow starts. Now, the day often began with the soft, hiccupping cries of Violet filtering down the stairwell, a sound that had somehow become comforting despite the initial panic it caused that first night.

It was still early when (Y/N) padded out of her room, her socks silent on the floorboards. The bar was quiet, save for the faint clink of glass from downstairs- Vander, already up and prepping for the day. She crossed the hall and carefully nudged open the door to the guest room.

Inside, the air was warm and dim. Felicia was curled up in bed, snoring softly, while Connol sat in the rocking chair nearby, shirt half-buttoned and eyes glassy with exhaustion. Violet rested against his shoulder, fussing quietly.

“Tag out,” (Y/N) whispered, stepping fully into the room.

Connol blinked, surprised. “You sure? She’s been fussy all-”

“I got her.” She held out her arms.

He hesitated for only a second before easing Violet into her embrace, careful not to wake her fully. (Y/N) cradled the baby against her chest, rocking her gently as she stepped back toward the hall.

“I’ll take her downstairs. You sleep.”

Connol didn’t argue. The second the door clicked shut, she heard the chair creak as he collapsed into it with a sigh.

Downstairs, the bar was still lit with the soft haze of early morning. Vander glanced up from wiping the counter, a brow raised as he saw her walk in, gently bouncing Violet against her shoulder.

“You’re up early,” he said.

(Y/N) shrugged. “So is she.”

He grinned. “She’s already got you wrapped around her little finger, doesn’t she?”

“Shut up,” (Y/N) muttered, but she didn’t deny it. She moved to the booth by the window, settling Violet into the crook of her arm as she sat. The baby stirred but didn’t cry, instead letting out a soft sigh as she pressed her tiny face against (Y/N)’s collarbone.

Vander brought over a mug of tea, placing it in front of her with a smirk. “Don’t worry. Happens to the best of us.”

She rolled her eyes but accepted the tea, sipping quietly as the morning light crept in through the cracks in the shutters.

By midday, the rest of the gang had trickled in.

Felicia emerged looking like death warmed over, wrapped in a blanket and shuffling toward the bar like a woman possessed. “Coffee,” she croaked.

“Tea,” Vander corrected, placing a steaming mug in front of her.

Felicia stared at it like it had personally wronged her. “This is a hate crime.”

(Y/N) snorted from her seat, Violet still asleep in her arms. “Just drink it, mom.”

Felicia shot her a glare, but the word “mom” clearly hadn’t sunk in yet- it left her blinking, dazed, as she slowly sat down beside her.

Silco showed up not long after, unlit cigarette tucked behind his ear, hair slightly disheveled from sleep. He paused in the doorway when he saw (Y/N) cradling Violet, his expression unreadable for a moment. Then, quietly, he made his way over and leaned against the table.

“She always that quiet for you?” he asked.

(Y/N) shrugged, glancing down at the baby. “She likes me.”

Silco’s eyes flicked between the two of them. “Apparently.”

(Y/N) raised an eyebrow. “You jealous?”

“Of a baby?” he scoffed. “Hardly.”

But she caught the corner of his mouth twitching- just barely- and she smiled to herself.

That evening, the bar was closed early for the first time in weeks. A slow lull settled over the place as everyone found themselves in the common area past the backroom, too tired to talk much, but too content to separate.

Felicia sat curled up on one end of the couch, head in Connol’s lap as he gently played with her hair. Vander had claimed his usual armchair, a bottle of something strong resting on his thigh. Silco leaned against the windowsill, arms crossed as he looked out over the Lanes, but every so often, his gaze flicked back toward (Y/N), who was curled up in the center of the couch with Violet dozing against her chest.

It wasn’t until Violet gave a tiny, hiccuping cry that the whole room stirred. Felicia made a tired sound, but before she could move, (Y/N) was already on her feet, cradling the baby with practiced ease.

“I got her,” she said softly, gently bouncing Violet.

Felicia gave her a look. “You know you’re not obligated, right? We can take care of our own kid.”

(Y/N) smirked. “Yeah, but I want to.”

That caught everyone off guard, if only for a moment. Silco’s eyes narrowed slightly, watching her with a strange intensity. Vander set his drink down.

“She’s really grown on you,” he said, not unkindly.

(Y/N) nodded, her voice quiet. “I didn’t think she would… but she has.”

Violet finally settled again, her tiny fingers curling into the fabric of (Y/N)’s shirt. The whole room seemed to exhale at once.

Felicia tilted her head. “You ever think about having one?”

(Y/N) blinked. “Me? No. Gods, no.”

Felicia smirked. “Could’ve fooled me.”

(Y/N) glanced down at Violet, brushing her knuckles against the baby’s soft cheek. “…Maybe someday. If the world doesn’t burn down first.”

Silco’s voice cut in quietly from the window. “It already is.”

(Y/N) met his gaze, holding it. “Then we make something good in the ashes.”

No one had a response to that. Not right away.

Eventually, Felicia yawned and nudged Connol. “Alright, dad duty. You’re on.”

Connol groaned but stood, taking Violet gently from (Y/N)’s arms. She lingered just a second longer before letting go, fingers brushing the baby’s blanket with a reluctant kind of affection.

Silco watched her the whole time.

As the group slowly dispersed for the night, he hung back until it was just the two of them left in the bar. She was standing by the window now, arms folded as she stared out into the flickering lights of the Undercity.

“You’re acting different,” he said finally, stepping closer.

(Y/N) glanced at him. “That obvious?”

He shrugged. “Maybe not to them. But I notice.”

She was quiet for a moment, then: “I think I’m just… remembering things I didn’t think I still had in me.”

Silco didn’t press. He just stood beside her, their shoulders nearly touching, the silence between them as comfortable as anything else.

Eventually, (Y/N) looked up at him with a tired smile.

“Want to hold her tomorrow when I watch her?”

Silco stared at her, surprised. “…You trust me with her?”

(Y/N) nodded. “I trust you with a lot more than that.”

And for once, Silco didn’t have a sharp reply.

He just nodded, voice quieter than usual. “…Alright.”

The next morning was slow, the kind that crept in through dusty windows and settled over The Last Drop like a warm blanket.

(Y/N) was already awake, wandering barefoot through the bar in one of Silco’s oversized shirts she’d stolen some time ago, sleeves rolled up to her elbows. Her hair was pulled back haphazardly, now that it had grown out a bit. She didn’t care. She’d gotten the baby back to sleep, and in this place, that was a damn victory.

Silco was seated at the counter, watching her.

He didn’t mean to- at least, not like that closely. He’d come down for a quiet drink and maybe a bit of peace before the rest of the world woke up. Instead, he’d walked in to see her cradling Violet in the crook of her arm, bottle in one hand, humming softly under her breath.

And now, she was swaying by the booth with the baby propped on her shoulder, gently patting her back. No fanfare. No dramatics. Just soft, instinctual care.

He watched the way her fingers moved- gentle, practiced, careful. The way she whispered nonsense to Violet, murmuring things like “You’ve got your mother’s glare, you know that?” and “If you scream again, I’m letting Uncle Vander take you for a walk.”

Silco’s throat felt dry. Uncomfortably so.

She caught him staring when she turned, arching a brow but smiling around it. “You watching me or the baby?”

“Yes,” he said before he could stop himself.

(Y/N) snorted. “Charming.”

She moved toward the counter, shifting Violet to her other arm and reaching for the warm bottle she’d left to reheat in a bowl of water. She tested the temperature on the inside of her wrist, nodded to herself, and offered it to the half-sleeping baby. Violet latched without complaint, tiny fingers curling into the fabric of (Y/N)’s shirt.

Silco… swallowed hard.

“You want to hold her?” she asked casually, like it wasn’t the most loaded question in the world.

Silco blinked. “Now?”

She glanced at him. “You said you wanted to. You can back out.”

He narrowed his eyes. “I’m not backing out.”

She grinned, stepping closer. “Alright, then sit up straight. Support her neck. She doesn’t like sudden movements.”

Silco gave her a dry look. “You do remember who you’re talking to, right?”

“You’re not intimidating when you’re being handed a baby,” she deadpanned, then gently passed Violet into his arms.

She adjusted his grip, her fingers brushing against his forearms, and then pulled back just enough to watch.

Violet nestled against him, her tiny fingers fisting in the collar of his vest.

Silco stared down at her like she was a live grenade.

(Y/N) sat beside him, watching the way his entire body tensed. “You look like you’re about to be attacked.”

“She’s… small,” he muttered, eyes locked on Violet’s sleepy face.

“Babies usually are.”

“I could crush her.”

“You won’t.”

There was a pause, quiet save for Violet’s soft sucking noises as she finished the bottle.

“She trusts you,” (Y/N) said softly, watching him. “I do too.”

Silco looked at her then.

Really looked.

She was a mess- hair tousled, skin still glowing faintly from sleep, and bags under her eyes.

She was also… radiant.

Her hands were capable of violence and fury and fire- but now, they were warm and gentle, holding softness like it was the most natural thing in the world.

And something about seeing her like that- still strong, but so tender- it undid something in him.

“…What?” she asked when she noticed him staring.

Silco blinked. “Nothing.”

(Y/N)’s lips curled. “You’ve got that look. The ‘I just had a dark, brooding epiphany’ look.”

“I do not have a look.”

She reached over and tapped between his brows. “This. Right here. You’re doing it.”

He caught her hand, not roughly, but firmly. “I was thinking.”

“Dangerous habit,” She mocked, repeating something he had told her time and time before.

Silco’s thumb brushed along the side of her hand without thinking, lingering longer than necessary.

“I was thinking…” he started, voice low, “...that you’ve changed a bit.”

(Y/N) tilted her head. “Not sure if that’s a compliment.”

“It is,” he said quietly. “You… surprise me.”

(Y/N)’s gaze softened just slightly. “I could say the same about you.”

They stayed there like that for a long moment. Silco still cradling Violet, (Y/N) leaning in a little closer, their forearms brushing on the countertop.

Violet let out a soft gurgle, breaking the silence, and (Y/N) chuckled.

“Alright, time to burp her before she explodes,” she said, reaching for the baby.

But Silco didn’t hand her over right away.

His fingers lingered on the back of Violet’s head for a moment longer, then slowly passed her back with a care that didn’t go unnoticed.

(Y/N) adjusted Violet on her shoulder, gently patting her back. “You did good,” she murmured, half to him, half to the baby.

Silco watched her, then stood, muttering, “I need to get some air.”

He left before she could tease him- but not before she saw the flush climbing up the back of his neck.

Ember in the Dark pt.6

Young!Silco x Fem!Reader

pt.5 - pt.7

pt.1

Warnings: Violence and Physical Confrontation, Interrogation, Threats, Mild Gore/Injury, Substance Use, Emotional distress and trauma.

Word Count: 7568

Summary: After learning that Mageseekers are after her, (Y/N) retreats in distress, and Silco follows to offer quiet support. She breaks down, revealing some of her past, while Silco, uncharacteristically vulnerable, admits his care for her. This leads to a tentative but meaningful moment before they rejoin the others, subtly changed. The group discovers that Mageseekers in the Undercity are trying to alert Piltover and decide to intercept them. After capturing and interrogating them, they learn that only four Enforcers know about (Y/N). Instead of killing the Mageseekers outright, Vander chooses to eliminate the Enforcers first. Later, (Y/N) seeks comfort in Silco, and by morning, their deepening connection leads to a slow, powerful moment, solidifying their unspoken bond.

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

Felicia set a steaming bowl of stew in front of (Y/N) with a quiet thunk, then sat next to her, arms crossed. She didn’t say anything- she didn’t have to. The look on her face said enough: Eat. Or else.

(Y/N) sighed but picked up the spoon, taking a small bite. The warmth settled in her stomach, grounding her more than she cared to admit. Around her, the usual hum of conversation had dulled to a tense silence. They were all waiting for Benzo to return, to see if he had heard anything while at his shop today.

The wait stretched long, the weight of uncertainty pressing down on them. Then, finally, the door swung open, and Benzo stepped inside. He looked a bit nervous as he made his way over to the bar, sighing as he sat down.

“...Apparently someone got some coin for tipping some Enforcers off about (Y/N).” His voice was measured, but there was an edge to it. “The Council doesn’t know yet, but the captain of the Enforcers sent word to Mageseekers in the area. Nothing big, nothing we can’t handle… Technically, the Undercity isn’t part of Piltover, so the Enforcers can’t do much about her. That’s why they told the Mageseekers. They can come down here, arrest us, beat us up, but other than that, it’s not like they can exile her if she’s already not in Piltover.”

Silence followed, heavy and suffocating. It could have been worse, but still- it was enough. If the Mageseekers knew, that meant word could spread. If it reached Demacia… Noxus would follow.

(Y/N)’s hands curled into fists beneath the table, nails biting into her palms. The walls of the room suddenly felt too tight, the air too thick. She needed space. Pushing back her chair a little too quickly, the legs scraped against the wooden floor as she stood.

“I need a minute,” she muttered, barely waiting for a response before turning on her heel and heading for the stairs.

Felicia called after her, but (Y/N) didn’t stop. Her limbs felt too tight, her breath too shallow. The room had felt suffocating, and she wasn’t sure if it was from the conversation or the memories clawing their way to the surface. Each step up to her room felt heavier than the last, her thoughts a spiraling mess. By the time she reached her door, she shut it behind her, bracing her hands against the wooden frame as she inhaled deeply.

It’s fine. You’re fine.

A quiet knock on her door made her shoulders tense. She knew who it was before he even spoke.

“(Y/N).” Silco’s voice was calm, steady. “Let me in.”

For a long moment, she didn’t move. Didn’t respond. Then, slowly, she turned toward the door, letting Silco inside... But she said nothing.

(Y/N) walked away from him and sat on the edge of her bed, staring down at her hands as Silco shut the door behind him. The room felt smaller with him inside, the weight of his presence pressing against the silence that had settled between them. He didn’t say anything. He didn’t need to. His sharp, blue eyes studied her, waiting, watching- like he always did when he knew something was wrong.

And (Y/N)... she couldn’t take it. She exhaled, a sharp, trembling breath, before running a hand through her hair. “Dammit, Sil...” Her voice cracked, betraying her, raw with something she had tried to swallow down. “Why does it have to be like this? Why does it always have to feel like I’m running from something? I didn’t ask for magic, I didn’t ask to be from Ionia. Wish I could just get rid of it...”

(Y/N)’s fingers curled into the fabric of her pants, gripping tightly as she struggled with the storm inside her. She never talked about her past. Not really. Not beyond what little she had been willing to share when they were kids. But Silco had always been the exception. He had always been the one to notice the cracks in her walls, the one who never pushed but always waited- and gods, how she hated him for it sometimes.

Because it worked.

“It’s because of Noxus that I ended up here in the first place,” she admitted, voice quiet, but full of something bitter. She felt, more than saw the way Silco straightened beside her. She could feel the shift in the air, the way his focus sharpened entirely on her.

“They burned my home,” she continued, eyes fixed on the floor, unable to meet his gaze. “They killed my people. They forced my mother to run with nothing but the clothes on her back and me in her arms.” Her breath hitched, and she gritted her teeth. “And now Mageseekers... That means it can all come crashing down on me.”

She let out a short, humorless laugh, shaking her head. “No matter how much I hid, no matter how much I tried to be normal- it’s like I’ll always be something other... Like I’m a curse.”

Her voice wavered. Her hands trembled. She had spent her whole life running, hiding, burying the truth of what she was. And it hadn’t been enough.

Silco watched her for a long moment, his gaze steady, unwavering. Then, without a word, he reached out, covering her shaking hand with his.

(Y/N) sucked in a sharp breath. Silco had never been one for comfort, not in the way Vander or Felicia was... But his grip was firm, grounding. A silent promise.

“They won’t take you,” he said, his voice low, certain.

(Y/N) swallowed hard, her chest tightening. She wanted to believe him- She really did…

(Y/N) clenched her jaw, her chest tightening as the first tear slipped down her cheek. She hated this- hated how weak it made her feel, how exposed. She never cried in front of others. She never let herself.

But she couldn’t stop it.

The tears came anyway, silent and unstoppable, streaming down her face as her body trembled. Her breaths were shallow, uneven, the weight of everything pressing down on her all at once.

Silco didn’t say anything. He didn’t pull away. He just sat there, his hand still over hers, his grip tightening ever so slightly.

It was that- his quiet, unwavering presence- that finally broke her.

A sob wracked through her, sharp and raw, and she turned toward him, pressing her face into his shoulder as her body shook.

Silco stiffened at first, caught off guard. Affection- this kind of closeness- was something neither of them indulged in easily.

But he didn’t pull away.

Slowly, cautiously, he lifted his hand, resting it against her back. His fingers curled slightly, uncertain, but present.

"I-" she choked out, gripping onto his shirt. "I don’t want to run anymore."

Silco’s expression darkened, his jaw clenching at her words.

"You won’t," he murmured. His voice was low, steady- a quiet promise against the storm raging inside her.

They sat there like that for a long time- (Y/N) curled against him, her tears soaking into his shirt, Silco holding her gently, because in this moment, there were no masks, no defenses- just them.

She stayed there, pressed against him, her mind still racing even as her sobs quieted. She felt exhausted, raw, but… safe. Safe in a way she hadn’t let herself feel in a long time.

Her fingers curled against the fabric of his shirt, her heart hammering against her ribs. She could hear his heartbeat too- steady, controlled, though there was something tense about the way he held her, something careful.

This was Silco. The same Silco she had known since they were kids. The one who had found her when she ran, who protected her secrets, who always looked at the world like he wanted to tear it apart and build something better in its place.

This moment… it was quiet, softer than any they’d had before.

(Y/N) took a shaky breath, forcing herself to pull back just enough to meet his eyes. His face was unreadable, the usual sharpness softened just slightly, but still guarded.

She hesitated.

Her fingers clenched in his shirt before she finally forced herself to speak.

“…Silco.”

Her voice was barely above a whisper.

He didn’t look away.

"I-" She exhaled sharply, frustrated with herself, but she pushed through.

"Why do you treat me differently? Why… aren’t you standoffish with me, like how you are with most others?"

The words hung between them, heavy.

Silco’s expression didn’t change- not immediately. His grip on her hand tightened just slightly, his sharp eyes searching hers, looking for something, though she wasn’t sure what.

Then, after what felt like an eternity, he finally spoke.

"(Y/N)…"

His voice was quiet, almost careful in a way he rarely was.

(Y/N) could hear the pounding of her own heart in her ears, could feel her pulse in her fingertips where they still clung to his shirt. Every second that passed without a response made her stomach twist tighter, her breath stuck in her throat.

Then, finally, Silco exhaled, his fingers twitching where they rested against her hand.

"(Y/N)…" He said her name again, softer this time, but still guarded.

His face was unreadable- his usual sharp, calculating expression still there, but underneath it, something else flickered.

Something uncertain.

She searched his face, trying to figure out what he was thinking, trying to prepare herself for whatever he was going to say.

But when he finally spoke, his voice was quieter than she had ever heard it.

"I don’t… know how to do this."

(Y/N) blinked.

Out of everything she had expected- anger, maybe even laughter… she hadn’t expected that.

Silco sighed through his nose, closing his eyes briefly before looking back at her.

"I never… let myself think about this."

His grip on her hand tightened slightly, but not in a way that hurt. Just like he was grounding himself.

"We’ve always had bigger things to worry about. Staying alive. Keeping ahead of everyone who wants us dead. And you…"

His jaw tensed, as if he was holding something back.

"You’re one of the only people I can trust."

(Y/N) swallowed, her throat dry.

"That’s not what I-"

"I care…" He cut her off, shaking his head slightly. "I care about you- more than I should."

Her breath hitched.

Silco’s sharp blue eyes locked onto hers, something intense in them.

"I don’t know how to feel something like this, (Y/N)."

He let out a quiet, humorless chuckle, shaking his head.

"But I care… I’d do anything for you."

The words sent a shiver down her spine.

For a moment, she could only stare at him, her mind catching up to what he had just said.

She let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding, her fingers slowly loosening from his shirt, but not letting go entirely.

"I don’t know how to do this either," she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. "But I want to figure it out."

Silco didn’t speak, but his hand squeezed hers again, his thumb brushing lightly against her knuckles.

She barely had time to react before she felt the warmth of his hand against her cheek.

Her breath caught in her throat.

Silco looked just as startled as she felt, like his body had moved before his mind could catch up. His fingers twitched slightly, as if debating whether to pull away, but instead, he stayed there. She leaned into his touch before she could stop herself, her eyes fluttering shut for just a moment.

When she opened them again, Silco was watching her with something unreadable in his expression- hesitation, curiosity, something softer than she had ever seen before.

"We’re fools," he muttered, shaking his head slightly.

(Y/N) let out a quiet, breathy laugh. "We’ve always been fools."

Silco huffed through his nose, the corner of his mouth twitching just slightly. His thumb brushed against her cheekbone, feather-light.

She wasn’t sure what to do. If she should say something, if she should move, if she should just stay here and let herself drown in the moment.

But then Silco, always the one to plan ahead, always the one to think things through, did something completely reckless.

He leaned in… Just barely. Not quite a kiss, not yet, giving her the chance to pull away.

…She didn’t…

Instead, she closed the distance.

Silco was careful, his hand still resting against her cheek as the kiss deepened. It was hesitant, unpracticed, but it didn’t matter. They weren’t thinking about that- weren’t thinking about anything at all, really.

(Y/N) could feel her heart pounding in her chest, the warmth of his lips against hers making her feel lightheaded. Or maybe that was just the leftover exhaustion and pain. She wasn’t sure.

Silco’s other hand hovered near her side before he caught himself, remembering her injury. Instead, he settled for gently cupping the side of her neck, his touch warm, grounding.

They were slow, careful. Learning.

By the time they finally broke apart, they were both breathing a little heavier, their foreheads almost touching.

Silco swallowed, his thumb still brushing against her skin.

"…Utter fools," he muttered, quieter this time.

(Y/N) let out a breathy laugh, her lips still tingling. "Yeah."

Neither of them moved right away. They just sat there, the weight of the moment settling between them.

For a long moment, neither of them spoke. Then, slowly, Silco reached for her hand, his touch firm but careful. Not leading her- grounding her.

"Come on," he murmured. "They’re waiting."

As they made their way downstairs, there was an unspoken shift between them. Nothing had really changed, and yet… everything had.

(Y/N) stuck close to Silco’s side, though not in a way that would be obvious to anyone else. Just a half-step closer than usual, just a glance in his direction when she thought no one was looking.

And Silco- well, he wasn’t one for public displays of anything, but there was something softer in the way he moved, something more deliberate.

Vander was behind the bar, wiping down glasses while Benzo leaned against the counter, deep in conversation. Felicia was there too, sitting at one of the tables, but when she looked up and saw (Y/N) and Silco, her eyes narrowed slightly.

"You good?" Felicia asked, her voice casual, but the look in her eyes wasn’t.

(Y/N) nodded, clearing her throat. "Yeah. Just needed a breather."

Felicia didn’t look entirely convinced, but she let it go, turning her attention back to the conversation Benzo and Vander were having.

(Y/N) exhaled, slipping into her usual spot at the table. Silco remained standing for a moment before taking a seat beside her- Close. Just enough that their legs brushed under the table.

But as Vander set a drink down in front of her, his brows furrowed slightly.

"You okay, kid? You look…" He hesitated, searching for the right word.

(Y/N) smirked faintly, grabbing the glass. "Tired?"

Vander huffed a laugh, shaking his head. "Something like that."

She quickly downed her drink, ignoring the way Felicia kept sneaking glances at her from across the room. She reached for the bottle before Vander could say anything, pouring herself another drink with slightly unsteady hands. She needed the burn of the liquor, needed something to ground her.

Her mind was too full- of Enforcers, of the Mageseekers, of Silco, who still sat beside her, silent but present.

She could feel his eyes on her as she took a sip, the alcohol stinging down her throat.

Vander let out a sigh, crossing his arms. "You sure that’s a good idea, kid?"

(Y/N) didn’t answer at first, just swirling the whiskey in her glass.

"I’ve had worse ideas."

Felicia scoffed from across the room. "That’s not reassuring."

(Y/N) ignored her. She wasn’t in the mood for a lecture, not tonight. She felt raw, her nerves stretched thin, and drinking was the only thing that felt like it might help.

Silco didn’t stop her- he didn’t say a word, just leaned back slightly in his chair, sipping his own drink. But there was something in the way he watched her, something unreadable in his gaze.

After a moment, Vander exhaled heavily, shaking his head. "Just don’t overdo it," he muttered before turning his attention elsewhere.

(Y/N) didn’t respond, just took another sip of her drink, welcoming the warmth that spread through her chest. But no amount of alcohol could drown out the reality settling in the back of her mind.

The Mageseekers were after her.

The thought sat heavy in her gut, twisting like a knife. They had been too close today. Too damn close. One wrong move, one misstep, and she would have been dragged off to the cells of Piltover- if they didn’t kill her outright.

And now?

Now they wouldn’t stop looking.

Her grip tightened around the glass.

Felicia’s voice cut through her thoughts. "So, what’s the plan?"

(Y/N) blinked, glancing up. "What?"

Felicia sighed, leaning forward. "The Mageseekers. What are we gonna do about them?"

Silco spoke before (Y/N) could. "We lay low. Stick to the shadows. Make sure they don’t catch wind of her again." His voice was steady, certain, but his fingers tapped against his glass- a rare show of nerves.

Felicia frowned. "And how long do you think that’ll work?"

Silco’s eyes flicked toward (Y/N), sharp and considering. "Long enough."

Felicia scoffed. "That’s not a real plan, Silco. We can’t just hide forever."

(Y/N) clenched her jaw, staring into the amber liquid in her glass.

No. They couldn’t.

Because the Mageseekers weren’t the kind of enemy that just… gave up.

They would keep hunting. Keep searching.

And eventually, they would find her.

Unless she found a way to stop them first.

The silence stretched between them, heavy and suffocating.

(Y/N) could feel the tension rolling off Vander and Felicia, the weight of unspoken fears pressing down on all of them.

Then, Silco finally spoke.

"What if we got rid of the Mageseekers before they can send word to anyone higher up?"

His voice was even, calculated- but there was an edge to it, something sharp hidden beneath the surface.

Vander was already shaking his head before Silco even finished. "That’s not the way, Silco."

Felicia crossed her arms. "Killing Enforcers is one thing. The Mageseekers? They’d bring down hell on the Undercity if they thought someone was targeting them."

Silco didn’t react, just leaned forward slightly, his fingers tapping against his glass in slow, measured movements. "They’ll bring down hell anyway, Felicia. The difference is whether or not (Y/N) is alive when they do."

(Y/N) swallowed hard, but she didn’t look away.

Because he was right.

And as much as she knew Vander and Felicia hated the idea, they both knew it too.

She exhaled sharply, forcing herself to sit up straighter. "What other choice do we have?"

Vander’s jaw tensed, his fingers gripping the edge of the counter.

Felicia looked away, scowling.

But neither of them had an answer.

Because there wasn’t one.

After a long, tense pause, Vander let out a slow breath. "We’d need to be careful. Real careful."

Felicia’s mouth pressed into a thin line, but she gave a small nod. "And we’d have to be sure. If word’s already gotten out, then it won’t matter what we do."

Silco’s expression didn’t change, but something in his posture shifted. He had already been thinking the same thing. "Then the first step is finding them. Figuring out how many of them know- and if they’ve already told anyone."

(Y/N) tightened her grip around her glass, nodding.

It was dangerous. Stupid, even.

But it was the only way.

Vander exhaled, running a hand down his face before nodding. “Alright. We don’t have time to waste. We split up, we get information, and we regroup. No one does anything reckless.”

His eyes flickered toward Silco, as if the words were meant for him in particular. Silco didn’t respond- just raised an eyebrow slightly, taking another slow sip of his drink.

Felicia pushed off from the table, already moving. “I’ll get Connol. He knows a few people who move between here and Piltover. If anything’s trickled down, we’ll hear about it.”

Silco finally set his glass down. “Benzo and I will check the deep end of the city. The Mageseekers aren’t above using hired help, and if they were seen, someone down there will know.”

Vander grunted, his fingers tapping against the counter. “(Y/N) and I will stay in the Lanes, listen for any rumors. If someone’s seen them sniffing around, we’ll know soon enough.”

(Y/N) swallowed hard, nodding. Her heart was still pounding, but at least now she had something to focus on. Something that wasn’t the weight of everything pressing down on her chest.

Felicia glanced between them all. “We meet back here in a few hours?”

Vander nodded. “Before dawn. No one goes off alone.”

Silco hummed, already pushing away from the counter. “Then let’s not waste time.”

With that, they each moved, stepping into the cold air of the Undercity, splitting off into the smog filled streets.

Vander and (Y/N) moved through the winding streets of the Lanes, keeping their heads low but their ears open. The brothel was their first stop- Babette knew everything that happened in the Undercity before most people did.

She leaned against the doorframe, watching them with sharp, knowing eyes. “Mageseekers, huh?” she mused, blowing out a slow stream of smoke. “Word is, a few of ‘em came sniffing around the markets earlier. Didn’t stay long, though.”

(Y/N) tensed beside Vander. “Did they ask about anything specific?”

Babette hummed, tapping ash onto the floor. “Not that I heard, but if they were here, they’re looking for something. Or someone.” Her gaze lingered on (Y/N), but she didn’t say anything more.

Vander nodded. “Appreciate it.”

Next, they wove through the market, asking the vendors they trusted most. Some had seen the Mageseekers, but no one knew exactly what they were after.

It wasn’t until they stopped by a small chem den that they got something more useful. A jittery dealer, hands stained with chemicals, muttered that he’d seen them talking to a courier near the border to Piltover. The Mageseekers weren’t just looking around- they were trying to get a message topside.

Vander’s jaw clenched. That wasn’t good. If word got out, they’d have more than just a few enforcers poking around.

“We need to get back,” (Y/N) said, voice tight.

He nodded. “Yeah.”

With that, they headed straight for the bar, the weight of their discovery heavy between them. If the others hadn’t found anything better, they’d have to act fast.

The bar was quiet when Vander and (Y/N) got there, but it didn’t last long.

Felicia and Connol arrived next, both looking tense. Then Silco and Benzo slipped in from the back entrance, shaking off the cold damp from the depths of the Undercity. Everyone looked tired, but there was no time to rest.

They sat around one of the tables, exchanging information quickly.

Felicia and Connol had tracked signs of the Mageseekers moving near the border, just as (Y/N) and Vander had heard. Silco and Benzo, meanwhile, had caught whispers in the fissures- something about outsiders asking the wrong people too many questions.

“They’re trying to send word topside,” Vander said grimly. “We stop that message from getting out, or this gets a hell of a lot worse.”

A silence hung over the table. The Mageseekers were dangerous, but letting them escape would be worse.

“We take them before they get to the bridge,” Silco said, voice sharp, determined. “Grab them, drag them somewhere quiet, make sure we know exactly what they know.” His fingers drummed against the tabletop. “Then we kill them.”

Vander’s expression darkened. “We don’t know that it has to go that far.”

“They came after (Y/N).” Silco’s voice was low but heated. “They would’ve dragged her off and locked her away, or worse. And you’d let them go?”

“I didn’t say that.” Vander let out a slow breath, trying to keep his voice even. “We get the information first. After that… we’ll see.”

Silco’s gaze was sharp, but he didn’t argue. Not yet.

Felicia leaned back, crossing her arms. “So, we intercept them at the bridge. Then what?”

Vander looked around at them all. “Then we take them to one of the old warehouses, out near the factory row. No one’ll hear anything out there.”

Everyone nodded, the plan settling between them. It wasn’t perfect, but it was all they had.

They had a long night ahead.

The night air was thick with the scent of damp stone and oil as they moved into position. The bridge loomed ahead, shrouded in the dim glow of golden lanterns from the upper city. Shadows stretched long against the uneven cobblestone, the sound of distant voices and the occasional scuffle of rats the only noise accompanying them.

They kept to the edges, hiding in the narrow alleys and behind the rusting remains of old pipes. It wasn’t long before they saw them- a small group of five figures making their way toward the bridge. Their robes were discreet, but not enough to fool anyone who knew what to look for. The way they moved, cautious and deliberate, screamed of authority that didn’t belong down here.

Silco’s grip tightened around the knife in his hand. His gaze flicked toward Vander, a silent confirmation passing between them.

Now.

They moved as one.

Felicia and Connol struck first, stepping out from the darkness to cut off their path. Before the Mageseekers could react, Vander and Silco closed in from behind, with (Y/N) and Benzo cutting off any chance of escape.

One of the Mageseekers cursed under his breath, already reaching for a weapon, but Felicia was faster. She slammed her elbow into his gut, knocking the wind out of him before twisting his arm behind his back. Connol drew a blade and leveled it at the others.

“Not a word,” Silco said, his voice low, dangerous.

The Mageseekers hesitated, eyes darting between them, weighing their odds. One of them- the tallest, likely the leader- lifted his chin slightly. “You don’t know who you’re messing with.”

Vander stepped forward, looming. “No, we do. And you’re not going anywhere.”

The leader sneered. “If we report back, more will come.”

Silco tilted his head. “Then it’s a good thing we don’t plan on letting you report back.”

The Mageseekers stiffened, but before any of them could react, Vander gave the signal.

With swift efficiency, they dragged them into the nearest alleyway, keeping them subdued. There was no time to waste. They needed to get them to the warehouse before anyone noticed they were missing.

Inside the warehouse, the air was thick with the stench of dust and rusting metal. The Mageseekers were bound tightly to old pipes, their hands tied behind their backs, their ankles secured. The dim light of a single oil lamp cast long, flickering shadows along the cracked walls, making the entire scene feel even more oppressive.

Vander stood with his arms crossed, his face grim, while Silco leaned against a crate, watching their captives with an unnerving stillness. (Y/N), standing just behind Vander, had her arms wrapped around herself, trying to steady the storm raging in her chest. Felicia and Connol lingered by the door, keeping an eye on the streets outside, while Benzo paced slowly behind the bound prisoners.

The questioning had been straightforward, and the answers had come easier than expected. The five Mageseekers in the room were the only ones who had come to the Undercity. They hadn't managed to send word to their superiors in Demacia yet, nor had they warned the rest of their order. That was something, at least.

Then came the question of the Enforcers.

The Mageseekers hesitated, but after some… encouragement, they admitted the truth. Only four Enforcers knew. The captain and three others. (Y/N) felt her stomach twist at the revelation.

The same three who had caught her all those years ago.

Her breath hitched. She could still remember their faces, their voices. The way they chased her through the streets, the way they forced her to use her magic to run away, the way they looked at her like she was nothing.

She clenched her fists at her sides, her nails digging into her palms.

“We know everything we need,” Silco said after a long silence, his voice quiet but sharp. His gaze flicked to Vander. “Now we decide what to do with them.”

Vander exhaled through his nose, rubbing a hand over his face. “We let them go, they come back with more. Killin’ ‘em, though…” He hesitated. “That’s a line I don’t want to cross unless we have to.”

Silco pushed off the crate, stepping closer to the bound prisoners. “You think they wouldn’t do the same to us? To (Y/N)?” His voice was razor-edged. “They hunt people like her down and toss them in chains. Or worse.” He turned to the others, his eyes dark. “If we let them live, we risk everything.”

Felicia frowned, shifting uncomfortably. “I don’t like the idea of just killing them,” she admitted. “But Silco’s not wrong. If we let them go, they will come back.”

(Y/N) swallowed hard, glancing at Vander. “What choice do we have?” she asked, her voice quiet. “If we let them walk away, we’re as good as dead.”

Vander sighed, his shoulders tense. His hands curled into fists at his sides as he stared at the Mageseekers. They looked back at him, defiant even now, even tied up and helpless.

Finally, he spoke. “…We deal with the Enforcers first.” His voice was heavy. “If we handle them, there’s no one left in Piltover who knows about (Y/N).” He glanced at the prisoners. “Until then, we keep these five locked up. We’ll decide their fate after the Enforcers are taken care of.”

Silco didn’t look satisfied, but he didn’t argue. Not yet.

They had their next move.

Back at the bar, the tension hung heavy between them. The doors were locked, the drinks forgotten, and the usual warmth of the place had been replaced with something colder, sharper. They sat around a table in the back, heads low, voices hushed.

Silco leaned forward, fingers steepled in front of him. “We’ll have to take them out one by one. If we hit them all at once, we risk too much attention.” His eyes flickered toward (Y/N) for the briefest moment before he continued. “The trick will be luring them away without raising suspicion.”

Vander exhaled through his nose, arms crossed over his chest. “It’s not just about takin’ them out, it’s about makin’ sure no one knows why they disappeared. If the Enforcers get wind of what we’re doing, we’re screwed.”

Felicia leaned back in her chair, drumming her fingers against the table. “We could start with the easiest target- the one who strays from the others the most.” She looked at (Y/N). “Do you remember anything about them? Their routines?”

(Y/N) swallowed, trying to push past the nausea curling in her stomach. “The captain… he was always the last to leave the barracks. But the other three…” She shook her head. “I don’t remember much else. Just their faces.”

Benzo, who had been quiet until now, spoke up. “If they’re anything like the Enforcers I used to deal with, they’ll have their vices. Gambling, drinking, a side hustle or two. We just need to figure out what those are.”

Silco nodded. “Then that’s our next step. We dig. We find out where they go when they’re not playing soldier, and we pick them off one at a time.”

Vander let out a heavy sigh, rubbing a hand over his face. “And after that...” His eyes met Silco’s. “We’re gonna have to lay low for a long time. With four of their own missin’, the Enforcers are gonna turn this city upside down lookin’ for answers.”

Silco’s lips curled into something that wasn’t quite a smile. “Then we make sure they don’t find any.”

The plan was reckless. Dangerous. But it was the only choice they had.

The silence in the bar stretched long after the others had left, leaving only the fading scent of smoke and liquor in their wake. The warmth of their presence had disappeared, replaced by an uneasy quiet that settled deep in (Y/N)’s chest. She sat at the table, fingers tracing the rim of her glass, the weight of the night pressing against her like a storm on the horizon.

Across from her, Silco hadn’t moved. He sat half-shrouded in the dim glow of the lantern, watching her with that sharp, knowing gaze. He didn’t push, didn’t speak, just waited. And maybe that was why she found herself breaking the silence, her voice quiet, almost hesitant.

“…Stay with me tonight?”

Silco’s brows lifted slightly, but he didn’t mock her for the request. He simply studied her, as if searching for the meaning beneath her words, then gave a small nod. “Alright.”

Relief washed through her, though she wasn’t sure why. They didn’t say much as they made their way upstairs, slipping into the small, dimly lit room. (Y/N) sat on the edge of the bed, unfastening her boots with slow, exhausted movements. Sleep wouldn’t come easy tonight- not with her thoughts running in endless circles, looping back to the same questions, the same fears.

Silco leaned against the wall, arms crossed, watching her. Then, after a moment, he sighed and sat beside her on the bed. “You think too much,” he muttered.

(Y/N) let out a tired laugh. “Kind of hard not to.”

A beat of silence passed between them. Then, without really thinking, she leaned into him, resting her head against his shoulder. For a second, she thought he might pull away- but he didn’t. He stayed still, quiet, letting her take whatever comfort she needed.

“…You scared?” he asked after a while.

(Y/N) closed her eyes, listening to the steady rhythm of his breathing. “No,” she murmured. “Just… tired.”

Silco hummed softly, a sound of amusement or understanding- maybe both. “Then rest.”

She didn’t remember falling asleep. But when she woke, the dim morning light filtered through the cracks in the curtains, casting a soft glow over the room. She shifted slightly, only to realize she wasn’t alone. Warmth pressed against her, an arm draped over her waist, her hand resting lightly against a familiar chest.

Silco.

Her breath caught as her sleep-fogged mind registered the closeness, the way their legs were loosely tangled, his face just inches from hers. His breathing was slow and even, still deep in sleep. She had never seen him like this before- unguarded, his sharp features softened by unconsciousness. No calculated expression, no sharp words waiting behind his lips. Just… him.

A strange feeling curled in her chest, something warm and terrifying all at once. She should move before he woke, before he turned that piercing gaze on her. But… she didn’t. Instead, she closed her eyes again, listening to the quiet, letting herself stay just a little longer.

Eventually, she felt him shift. His body tensed slightly, adjusting to the unfamiliar warmth beside him. A slow inhale, a flicker of movement.

(Y/N) braced herself, waiting for him to pull away, to make some cutting remark. But when his blue eyes finally opened, still clouded with sleep, he just looked at her. No teasing. No sharp words. Just quiet understanding.

“…Morning,” he murmured, voice rough with sleep.

She swallowed. “Morning.”

Neither of them moved. Neither of them let go.

The air between them was fragile, humming with something neither of them had spoken aloud. Silco’s fingers moved first, threading through (Y/N)’s hair with a touch so careful, so deliberate, it felt as if he was memorizing the feel of her. It was unlike him- unlike the sharp edges, the carefully controlled restraint he carried.

She barely breathed, afraid that any sudden movement would break whatever fragile thing had settled between them.

Then he moved closer.

His fingers traced down to her jaw, featherlight, testing. Seeing if she would pull away.

But she didn’t.

She leaned into his touch, her own hand coming to rest against his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heart beneath her palm. Neither of them spoke.

Silco’s gaze flickered to her lips, hesitation creeping in- but when (Y/N) shifted, closing the last bit of distance between them, the moment cracked open like a flood.

His lips met hers, slow at first, careful- until it wasn’t.

(Y/N) pressed into him, fingers twisting into the fabric of his shirt as he pulled her closer, their bodies molding together as if they had done this a hundred times before. But they hadn’t. And maybe that was what made it all the more intoxicating.

Silco wasn’t rough, wasn’t hurried. He kissed her like he was trying to take his time, like he wanted to make sure this wasn’t just some fleeting moment. And (Y/N) melted into it, into him, into the way his hands traced slow, reverent paths over her skin.

His lips didn’t leave hers for long. He kissed her again, slower this time, as though savoring every second, every soft sigh that left her lips. His fingers trailed along her jaw, tracing the curve of her cheek before tilting her chin just enough to deepen the kiss. Careful. Hesitant, even. But beneath his restraint was something simmering- something intense, something that burned.

When he finally broke away, his lips barely brushed against her skin as he moved lower, trailing soft, lingering kisses down her jaw. Each press of his mouth sent shivers down her spine, her breath catching when he reached the sensitive spot beneath her ear. He lingered there, his lips parting slightly against her pulse, feeling the way it fluttered beneath his touch.

His hands followed, fingertips ghosting down her arms, over the fabric of her clothes. Not rough, not demanding- just exploring. Mapping her. Tracing her like something he never thought he’d be allowed to touch.

His fingers trailed lower, brushing over her waist, then back up, caressing her through the thin fabric with a tenderness that made her heart ache.

(Y/N)’s breath hitched when he pressed a kiss just beneath her ear again, his breath warm, sending a slow, aching warmth curling low in her stomach. She felt his hesitation in the way his hands lingered at her hips, waiting for something- for her.

So she gave it.

Her fingers slid into his hair, tugging him closer, giving him the silent permission he needed.

Silco let out a slow breath against her neck before pressing another kiss there- softer this time, deliberate. Careful, but claiming. A contrast that sent heat spreading through her limbs.

His lips moved lower, down the column of her throat, each kiss leaving a lingering heat in its wake. His hands, once hesitant, grew bolder, smoothing over her back, pulling her closer, but never pushing too far.

He was letting her set the pace. Letting her guide him.

…But Silco’s restraint was slipping. He could feel it in the slight tremble of his fingers against her waist, in the way his breathing deepened as (Y/N)’s hands tangled in his hair.

He wasn’t used to this- wasn’t used to wanting something so badly and having it right in front of him, willingly pressing against him, pulling him closer.

(Y/N)’s breath hitched as his lips traveled lower, pressing against the hollow of her throat before dragging back up to claim her lips again.

This kiss was different.

Less hesitant. More desperate.

It wasn’t just a kiss; it was a confession, a surrender.

Her hands roamed over his back, feeling the tension in his muscles, the way he held himself together even as he unraveled beneath her touch. She whispered his name, soft and breathless, and something inside him broke.

“(Y/N)…” His voice was low, almost shaky.

He pulled back just enough to look at her, his blue eyes burning into hers.

“You don’t know what you do to me.”

But she did. She could feel it in every touch, every kiss, every careful caress.

“I love you,” she murmured, barely above a whisper, but the words sent a shiver through him.

His grip on her tightened, his forehead pressing against hers as he exhaled- long and slow, like he’d been holding his breath for years.

“You don’t have to say that,” he rasped, as if the words were dangerous, as if they might unravel him completely.

“But I do,” she insisted, her fingers tracing over his jaw, grounding him. “I’ve loved you for years…”

A quiet sound left him, something caught between disbelief and longing.

Then he kissed her again, deeper this time, pouring everything he couldn’t say into it. His hands roamed with more certainty now, sliding beneath the fabric of her shirt, feeling the warmth of her skin beneath his palms.

“(Y/N)…” Her name was a whisper against her lips, a prayer.

“If I could love anyone…” He kissed her again, breathing her in, the taste of her, the feel of her. “It would be you.”

The words undid her.

She pulled him closer, hands desperate, bodies pressed flush together as the moment deepened, as the world outside this bed, this room, this morning ceased to matter.

No more hesitation.

No more secrets.

Just whispered names and the feeling of finally being where they belonged.

Silco lingered in bed as (Y/N) slowly moved to sit up, stretching her arms over her head, the morning light filtering through the window casting a soft glow over her skin. He found himself watching her, memorizing the way the light danced over her form before she turned to him with a small, sleepy smile.

“I need a bath,” she murmured, running a hand through her tousled hair. “I’ll meet you downstairs in a bit.”

Silco hummed in response, propping himself up on one elbow as he reached out, trailing his fingers down her arm.

“Don’t take too long,” he muttered, his voice still rough from sleep. “I don’t like waiting.”

She rolled her eyes but smiled, standing to gather fresh clothes before making her way toward the washroom.

Silco watched her go, exhaling slowly as he ran a hand down his face.

Gods.

What had he just done?

This morning…

Everything about it had changed something between them.

They had known how they felt about each other somewhat, but neither had truly acted on it, not like this. It had always been a quiet understanding, a tension that hovered between them, acknowledged but never fully embraced. But now, there was no denying it. No pretending it hadn’t happened.

For the first time in a long while, Silco didn’t feel like he had to be so guarded.

And that terrified him.

But right now, he didn’t have the time to dwell on it.

With a grunt, he pushed himself out of bed, reaching for his shirt. There was work to be done, plans to set in motion. Whatever came next, they would face it together.

Downstairs, the others were waiting, but for now, (Y/N) had a moment to herself- one final bit of peace before the storm that was sure to come.

She stood before the mirror, fingers ghosting over the fresh stitches on her abdomen. The wound was still raw, an aching reminder of how close she had come to death. She traced her fingers just beneath it, absentmindedly, her mind flickering back to everything she had learned in the last few days- the Enforcers, Piltover, the Mageseekers hunting her.

It was overwhelming.

But there was no time to process it fully. Not yet.

She exhaled slowly and let her hands drop to her sides, her gaze drifting over the rest of her body- faint scars from years of fighting, surviving in the Undercity. Each mark told a story, a piece of her past carved into her skin.

Shaking herself from her thoughts, she turned away from the mirror and stepped into the bath, sighing as the warm water enveloped her. She sank down, closing her eyes for a moment, letting herself simply exist in the quiet.

It was rare to have a moment like this- peaceful, still.

She ran her hands through her hair, washing away the remnants of the night before, of the past few days. She moved through the familiar motions of getting ready, her mind still lingering on the weight of everything that had happened.

Brushing through her damp hair, she worked out the knots before twisting it up into a bun, a few loose strands framing her face. Dressing in her usual layers, she adjusted her sleeves, ensuring they covered the faint golden shimmer that sometimes flickered along her skin when her magic stirred.

Once satisfied, she quickly brushed her teeth, rinsing away the last remnants of the night before.

Taking a deep breath, she stepped out of her room, making her way down the creaky wooden steps into the bar.

The familiar scent of smoke, alcohol, and the faintest trace of damp stone greeted her.

Art post!

This post has some more recent art, and sketches. My last post had some of my older, finished pieces. Feel free to give me any suggestions, tips, or requests in my asks or dms :}

A lot of these are unfinished, but I do plan on finishing them eventually. As soon as I do, I'll post them on here, and my insta!

Can you do Sayaka x reader fluff headcannons?

A/N: Yes, of course, @ultimategraffitiguy! You didn't specify the gender of the reader, so I kept it gender neutral :} Hope that's okay!

The Softest Spotlight

Sayaka x GN!Reader Fluff Headcannons

Warnings: None that I can really see :}

Word Count: 716

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- Constant cheerleader energy: Sayaka thrives on encouragement and gives it in abundance. Whether (Y/N)’s making breakfast or just trying to focus on studying, she’s their  #1 hype girl- "You're doing amazing, sweetheart!" levels of support every day. She believes in destiny, but she also believes in working hard to protect what you have. Even when things get tough, she always says, “As long as we have each other, we’ll be okay.”

- Little love notes everywhere: She leaves (Y/N) sweet notes in the most random places: their notebook, your hoodie pocket, their shoe (once). They're always handwritten with cute little doodles and sparkly stickers.

- Cuddling = therapy: Sayaka is touchy and adores cuddles. Her favorite position is (Y/N) lying on their back with her draped over them like a weighted blanket. She hums her favorite songs softly while tracing patterns on their arm.

- Morning snuggles are a must: She wakes up first just so she can admire (Y/N)’s sleepy face. Her fingers brush their hair from their forehead as she whispers, “You look like a dream.” Then, when they stir, she gently pulls them back into bed- “Five more minutes, please~”

- Loves being the little spoon: Though she’ll happily big spoon too, her favorite thing is curling up in (Y/N)’s arms, her back against their chest, while they wrap their arms around her waist… She kicks her feet a little when she’s extra happy.

- Giggle fits under the blankets: Sometimes she just wants to be silly and soft- she’ll pull the covers over both of them like a little fort, tell (Y/N) jokes, make silly faces in the glow of her phone screen, and end up in a pile of giggles and forehead kisses.

- Soft lullabies as cuddles deepen: When (Y/N) is almost asleep, she hums a soft melody- usually something nostalgic from her younger days. It becomes (Y/N)’s personal lullaby, and now they can’t sleep well unless they hear her voice.

- Secret songs just for (Y/N): Despite being used to crowds, her favorite performances are the ones where it’s just the two of them. She writes lyrics inspired by their relationship, though she keeps some private in her journal. She’s promised- if she ever releases a solo album, (Y/N) will be the muse.

- Surprise back hugs: She always sneaks up behind (Y/N) when they’re doing something mundane- cooking, brushing their teeth, folding laundry- and wraps her arms around their middle, swaying gently with her chin resting on their shoulder. She just wants to be close.

- Blanket thief but in denial: Sayaka always ends up wrapped in the majority of the blanket by morning, yet she insists (Y/N) is the one who hogs it. The solution? (Y/N) ends up getting a bigger blanket just so she can burrito herself and still share with them.

- Loves curling up in your lap: When (Y/N) is sitting on the couch, Sayaka will crawl into their lap like it’s the most natural thing in the world. She’ll curl up there like a cat, cheek pressed to their chest, arms tucked close as they stroke her hair.

- Says “I love you” when she’s half-asleep: When she’s drifting off, in that sleepy-soft voice, she mumbles “I love you” like a mantra. Sometimes it’s three times in a row. Sometimes it’s a barely audible whisper. But always sincere.

- Dates always feel magical: She plans the cutest little dates. Think picnics under fairy lights, karaoke at home in matching pajamas, or dancing around the kitchen with music blasting as they both sing terribly on purpose.

- The queen of matching fits: Sayaka lives for couple aesthetics. Matching accessories? Matching phone charms? She's already bought them. She even customizes (Y/N)’s stuff with their initials + a heart.

-  Protective but soft about it: She gets anxious when (Y/N) is sad or overwhelmed. They’ll catch her sneaking worried glances, always ready with a warm hug, tea, or even calling her manager to cancel practice so she can stay with (Y/N).

- Public affection? Yep: She’ll hold (Y/N)’s hand anywhere, sneak kisses when no one’s looking, and gush about them in interviews (with a shy smile and sparkles in her eyes). Fans adore how much she loves (Y/N).

hi hiii, could I request headcanons or a one shot (completely up to you) that's a shuichi saihara x reader where the reader is kaede's brother/sibling? that whole dynamic?

(if not, feel free to ignore)

thank you <3

A/N: Yes, absolutely! I kept the reader gender neutral, since it wasn't specified. Hope that's okay :}

A Little Too Close

Shuichi x GN!Reader Headcannons

Warnings: Grief/Loss, Trauma, and Nightmares

Word Count: 1527

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-Shuichi's first reaction to meeting (Y/N): He’s startled. Not because they’re intimidating, but because… They look like Kaede. Or maybe it's their energy, their expressions, the way they say his name. It throws him off. He fumbles with his hat almost immediately, tugging it low as he mumbles a polite greeting. “I didn’t know Kaede had a sibling…” (Y/N) smiles. “Guess she didn’t talk about me much, huh?” That makes him nervous. Not because of them- but now he’s overthinking what Kaede did say, and whether it was enough to prepare him for them. Spoiler: It wasn’t.

-They remind him of Kaede… but not quite: There are moments where they laugh or tilt their head just like she used to, and his heart squeezes. But then (Y/N) says something unexpected- sarcastic, bold, or quietly observant- and he realizes: They’re not her. And that’s… oddly comforting. They’re not a walking shadow of Kaede. They’re their own person. It makes him want to understand them more. Quietly. Carefully. Like a case he doesn’t want to mess up.

-Early awkwardness: He doesn’t know how to act around them at first. Should he treat them like Kaede treated him? Should he be distant, out of respect? (Y/N) catches him doing that weird thing where he hovers in a doorway, half-turning like he’s about to leave. They just raise an eyebrow and tell him to sit down. He does. Immediately. No questions asked. (They tease him about that later.)

-Accidental late-night conversations: The first time the two really talk is late- everyone else is asleep or gone, and the only sound is the ticking of a clock and some distant wind. (Y/N) asks him how he’s doing, really. He’s not used to someone asking without a motive. They don’t push, but they stay. That stays with him longer than their words do.

-Soft, silent comfort: He starts to notice how (Y/N) lingers when he’s feeling overwhelmed. How they never force conversation, but they offer it, like an open hand he can take or not. He realizes he likes their silence. It’s not awkward- it’s safe. Sometimes, they’ll just sit nearby with a book, or hum a tune Kaede used to play, and that’s enough to ground him.

-Little moments that get to him: (Y/N) fixes his collar without thinking. He freezes. They just go, “There. It was bugging me.” They bring him tea when he’s deep in notes. He thanks them with pink cheeks and a voice softer than usual. They laugh at one of his rare jokes, and he’s stunned for a second- then shyly smiles. He’s starting to look forward to making them laugh again.

-The turning point: He catches himself watching them one day- not analyzing, not deducing- just watching, with a kind of warmth in his chest that makes him anxious. He blurts out, “You’re… really different from Kaede.” “Yeah? Is that a good thing?” He hesitates. Then nods, voice low. “Yeah. It is.”

-Shuichi starts letting his walls down, little by little: At first, it’s subtle. He actually starts seeking them out instead of waiting for them to bump into him. They’ll catch him standing nearby when they’re talking to someone else, not saying much, just listening. He says it’s “out of habit,” but his eyes keep drifting to (Y/N). They ask if he wants to walk with them somewhere, and he says “Sure,” with this small, surprised smile like he wasn’t expecting to be invited.

-(Y/N) starts understanding his little tells: When he’s anxious, he tugs at his gloves. When he’s genuinely happy, his voice gets a little higher and softer. And when he’s looking at them- really looking- they can feel the intensity, even if he drops his gaze the second they meet it. They pretend not to notice when he stares a little too long, just to see how long it takes for him to turn red. (Spoiler: not long.)

-Domestic softness sneaks in: (Y/N) brings him tea or coffee without him asking now. They even remember how he takes it. Sometimes they sit beside him while he’s writing up notes on a case and rest their chin on his shoulder until he blushes and stiffens like a statue. He starts handing them his jacket on cold days without a word. He says, “You looked cold,” but he’s the one shivering.

-Kaede’s memory brings them together, not apart: One night, they’re both sitting in the music room. The piano sits untouched. (Y/N) says, “She’d hate how quiet it is in here.” Shuichi nods, staring at the keys. “She would’ve played something bright… even if no one was listening.” They play a few notes, a little clumsy at first, but Shuichi closes his eyes and listens. “You sound like her,” he whispers. “But… not.” They smile. “That’s the idea.”

-He confides in (Y/N), finally: He tells them he still has nightmares. About trials, about people he couldn’t save. They don’t try to fix it. They just listen, and then they tell him about their own fears. How losing Kaede still feels unreal. He reaches out, hesitates… then rests his hand lightly on theirs. No words. Just warmth. Just: I’m here.

-The “oh no I like them” moments: He overhears someone flirting with (Y/N) and nearly drops his notebook. He’s not jealous (he tells himself), but he definitely interrupts with something awkward and unnecessary. They ask if he wants to try cooking something together and he agrees way too fast, then spends the whole time pretending to be calm while he burns the rice. They fall asleep next to him during a late night chat. He watches them breathe for a while, then whispers, “I think Kaede would’ve liked this… us.”

-The shift: One day, (Y/N) brushes some hair out of his eyes without thinking. He catches their wrist mid-motion. “You always do that,” he says softly. “Like you’re not even thinking about it.” They shrug. “Maybe I just want an excuse to touch you.” Silence. His ears go red. Then, so quietly it’s barely there: “You don’t need an excuse.”

-The moment it finally clicks, for both of them: It happens quietly. No fireworks. No huge romantic gesture. Maybe they’re both watching the stars one night, side by side, shoulder to shoulder. (Y/N) says something like, “I wish Kaede could’ve seen this.” And Shuichi says, “I think she’d be happy. I mean… that we found each other.” There’s a pause. They both glance at each other. Something in the air changes. It’s not just comfort anymore. It’s something deeper. Something that’s been growing, slowly and patiently, in all the silences and half-smiles and lingering stares.

-Neither of them say it immediately… but it feels different: After that night, the way he looks at (Y/N) is different. More direct. Like he’s not afraid anymore. They catch yourself holding their breath when he leans close to show them something in his notebook. His fingers brush theirs and neither of them pull away this time.

-The first kiss: It’s so painfully gentle. Shuichi is careful, like he’s afraid to break something delicate. He hesitates right before, his lips just a breath away, and whispers, “Is this okay?” (Y/N) nods, heart fluttering, and he finally closes the gap. It’s shy and sweet and makes their knees go weak. When they pull back, they’re both red-faced and smiling like idiots. He covers his face with his hand and just goes, “Wow…” (Y/N) teases him: “What? Solved the case of your own feelings?” “Took me long enough,” he mumbles. 

-The “we’re official” moments: He doesn’t call them his partner right away. He just kind of… sticks closer. Sits next to them every time. Carries two drinks instead of one. He accidentally blurts out “my p- my partner.” in front of someone and then refuses to make eye contact for a whole hour. (Y/N) doesn’t tease him too much. They just take his hand and lace their fingers with his under the table. That shuts down his anxiety real quick.

-Soft, sleepy comfort: They take naps together now. Shuichi’s arms around their waist, his breath slow and steady against the back of their neck. He sleeps better when they're there. No nightmares. No tension in his shoulders. They kiss the top of his head before he falls asleep. He never says anything, but the way he exhales tells them everything.

-Domestic sweetness: He leaves them little notes when he’s busy, “Don’t forget to eat. I left your favorite tea by the kettle.” They write back on the same paper, “You’re cuter when you’re bossy.” He keeps that note in his pocket for weeks.

-The quiet confession (finally said out loud): He says it first. Not in a dramatic moment, but while they’re brushing his hair out of his eyes before bed. “I love you,” he says, barely above a whisper. “I just… I do.” (Y/N) smiles. “I know. I love you too, detective.” He exhales like he’s been holding it in for months. Then he pulls them close and doesn’t let go.

hello, can u make nsfw headcanons for sub!makoto naegi x male reader plisss

A/N: Absolutely! I can do that :}

Melt for Me

Sub!Makoto Naegi x Male!Reader

Warnings: MDNI 18+, Explicit sexual content, Dominance/Submission Dynamics, Praise Kink, Physical Restraints, Orgasm Control/Denial, Overstimulation

Word Count: 645

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- Makoto is a naturally obedient mess: It doesn’t even take (Y/N) raising his voice. A firm look, a subtle command, or even a hand at the back of his neck is enough to have Makoto nodding, face burning, ready to do whatever he's told.

- He craves praise like oxygen: (Y/N) quickly picks up on it- a murmured "good boy" in his ear will have Makoto melting, his knees buckling, his face hiding against (Y/N)'s chest to escape how much he's blushing.

- Makoto has the softest whimpers when (Y/N) pulls his hair: Not rough enough to hurt, but firm enough to guide his head wherever (Y/N) wants it. It makes Makoto shiver- it always leaves him pliant and needy.

- (Y/N) loves the way Makoto fidgets when he’s being teased: Biting his lip, shifting his weight, fists clenching at his sides like he's fighting the urge to beg out loud. Sometimes, (Y/N) will order him to "keep still," just to watch him tremble from the effort.

- Makoto secretly loves being marked: (Y/N) trailing his teeth along his neck, leaving faint bruises hidden under his clothes? It makes Makoto feel claimed. It’s both humiliating and addictive.

- Punishments are almost worse because Makoto likes them: If he slips up- talking back, hesitating too long, or being bratty- (Y/N) makes him kneel, hands behind his back, eyes low. And Makoto aches to be forgiven.

- Makoto is so easy to overwhelm with dirty talk: A few low-spoken threats or promises from (Y/N) and he's a shaking, panting mess, barely able to function. (Y/N) teases him by whispering filth in his ear during normal activities, just to see him choke on his words.

- Makoto is absolutely weak for being pinned: Whether it's pressed up against a wall, pinned to a bed, or trapped on (Y/N)’s lap with no escape, it gets Makoto dizzy and breathless fast. (Y/N) loves using his strength to manhandle him a little, especially when Makoto squirms just to be caught again.

- Overstimulation Games: (Y/N) loves to tie Makoto’s wrists above his head, blindfold him, and just… take his time. Feather-light touches, whispered threats, teasing and denying him until Makoto’s begging- voice cracking- promising he’ll be "so good" if (Y/N) just lets him finish.

- "On Your Knees": Makoto reacts instantly when (Y/N) uses that tone. Doesn’t matter if they’re home, in a hallway, anywhere. His legs give out almost automatically, pupils blown wide, waiting for permission to move any further.

- (Y/N) trains Makoto to ask for what he wants: No more shy hints or hopeful glances- Makoto has to say it, clearly and properly. "Please, touch me." "Please, can I come?" And every time he does, (Y/N) rewards him devastatingly well. No vague whining- full sentences, clear language, desperate voice. "Please, I need you. I need you so bad, I'll do anything, please just-" (Y/N) watches, arms crossed, making him work for every reward.

- Orgasm Control: (Y/N) sometimes forbids Makoto from finishing until he says he can. Makoto's thighs tremble, his whole body tight with the effort to obey. The first time he accidentally came without permission, the punishment was so slow and deliciously cruel that Makoto apologized for days.

- Despite all the heat and dominance, there's a tenderness underneath it: Makoto knows, with unshakable certainty, that (Y/N) treasures him- every trembling, obedient part of him. Makoto gets pulled into (Y/N)'s lap, wrapped up tight, praised sweetly until he’s hiccuping little sobs of gratitude against his chest. - Aftercare Overload: No matter how rough (Y/N) gets, after it’s over, Makoto is tucked into bed, hair stroked, soft kisses pressed against every sore spot. (Y/N) whispers praises into his hair, calling him beautiful, perfect, precious- until Makoto falls asleep blissed out and safe.

Ember in the Dark pt.3

Young!Silco x Fem!Reader

pt.2 - pt.4

pt.1

Warnings: Survival Struggle, Dark Themes, Alcohol use, Smoking, Themes of oppression and struggle, and Trauma.

Word Count: 2893

Summary: After a failed heist exposes (Y/N)’s magic, she, Vander, Silco, and Felicia lay low by working in the mines. Over the years, they establish themselves in the Undercity, with Vander saving to buy the bar that becomes the "Last Drop." As their influence grows, Silco shares his vision of an independent Zaun, planting the seed of revolution. While Vander is hesitant, (Y/N) listens- intrigued but cautious. Lost in her past, she drowns her thoughts in smoke and whiskey, avoiding what haunts her. Yet, the idea of change lingers, and the path ahead is uncertain.

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The weight of (Y/N)’s secret still hung thick in the air, pressing against them like the smog outside their hideout. Now that everyone knew, there was no going back.

She sat cross-legged on the floor, staring at her hands- at the faint traces of magic that still tingled beneath her skin. The others were quiet, each of them lost in their own thoughts.

Silco was the first to break the silence. "We need a plan."

Felicia snorted. "You think?" She gestured vaguely in (Y/N)’s direction. "This isn’t just some petty theft or smuggling job, Silco. She’s a mage. The second the wrong people find out, they’ll be all over us."

Vander leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. His face was grim. "Felicia’s right. The Enforcers will come looking for whoever set off that magic during the heist. We don’t know if anyone saw your face, but if they did…" His jaw tightened. "It won’t just be you they come for, (Y/N). It’ll be all of us."

(Y/N)’s stomach twisted.

She knew. She knew.

She had spent her whole life hiding, knowing that even in the Undercity, where the laws were loose and survival meant everything, people still feared magic. Mages were either used, sold out, or killed.

Silco was watching her again, that calculating look back in his eyes. "Do you know how to control it?"

(Y/N) hesitated.

"Kind of," she admitted. "I’ve had to teach myself, but it’s-" She swallowed. "It’s not perfect. And when I panic, it’s harder to stop."

Felicia let out a long breath. "So if something goes wrong, you might accidentally blow up a building?"

(Y/N) shot her a glare. "I don’t blow things up."

"Could’ve fooled me."

"Felicia," Vander warned, before turning back to (Y/N). "We’ll figure it out," he said, like it was that simple. Like they could just sit down and solve this like any other problem.

(Y/N) wished she could believe that.

Silco leaned against the wall, arms crossed. "You need practice," he said bluntly. "You need to learn how to control it before it controls you."

(Y/N) frowned. "And how exactly do you suggest I do that? I can’t exactly go around throwing magic in the streets."

"Underground," Silco said without hesitation. "There are places in the Lanes where no one asks questions. The lower sectors, the abandoned tunnels- hell, even the Fissures. People go missing down there all the time. No one would notice a few sparks."

Vander didn’t look convinced. "And if someone does see?"

Silco tilted his head, smirking slightly. "Then we make sure they don’t talk."

Felicia groaned. "Great. Now we’re considering murder. Love that."

"We’re not killing anyone," Vander said firmly. "But Silco’s right about one thing- (Y/N) does need to learn how to control it. If the Enforcers come knocking, she needs to be able to hide it. Or fight back."

(Y/N)’s hands curled into fists. "I don’t want to fight."

Vander’s face softened. "I know."

Felicia sighed, rubbing her temples. "Alright. Say we do train her. Say she figures out how to keep her magic in check. What’s the endgame here? We just keep hiding forever?"

The room fell silent again.

Because none of them had an answer.

Eventually, someone would find out. The Undercity thrived on secrets, but it also thrived on selling them. And (Y/N)’s magic was worth more than just coin.

Silco’s gaze flickered toward her. "We don’t have to figure out everything tonight. But the sooner you learn to control it, the safer we all are."

(Y/N) took a slow, shaky breath. She didn’t like it. She didn’t want this.

But what choice did she have?

"Okay," she murmured. "I’ll do it."

Felicia sighed dramatically, throwing up her hands. "Fine. But if you do accidentally blow something up, I’m telling everyone it was Silco’s idea."

Silco smirked. "You say that like it would be the first time."

(Y/N) rolled her eyes, but something in her chest loosened… They weren’t running yet, but they would be ready when the time came.

The decision settled over them like dust, thick and inescapable. If they wanted to keep (Y/N) safe, they needed to stay put. No more bouncing from hideout to hideout, no more risky jobs that put them in Enforcer sights.

For a while now, they had talked about joining the Miners. It wasn’t glamorous work- nothing in the Undercity was- but it was steady, and more importantly, it was a place to disappear.

Felicia was the first to voice it aloud. "We should actually head for the mines, I guess..."

Vander nodded, rubbing his chin. "Yeah. The mines are deep enough that no one asks questions. No Enforcers, no Pilties. Just workers doing what they have to do to survive."

Silco looked less convinced. "It’s miserable work," he pointed out. "Back-breaking, dangerous, and not exactly known for long life expectancy."

"It’s better than getting caught," (Y/N) muttered.

That shut him up.

Felicia huffed, leaning back against the wall. "Besides, people go missing in the mines all the time. If (Y/N) needs a place to train, no one’s going to notice a little flicker of magic in some abandoned tunnel. They’ll just assume it’s fumes or gas leaks."

(Y/N)’s stomach twisted. She didn’t like the idea of being buried underground, of working herself to exhaustion in the mines just to stay invisible. But she liked the alternative even less.

Vander stretched, cracking his neck. "We’ll need to find someone to vouch for us. Miners don’t just take in new hands without a good word."

Silco smirked. "I might know someone."

Felicia raised a brow. "Of course you do."

"I make it a point to know useful people."

(Y/N) exhaled slowly, then nodded. "Okay. If this is what we have to do, then let’s do it."

The decision was made.

Tomorrow, they would start making arrangements. They would lay low, keep (Y/N) hidden, and work in the mines until they figured out their next move.

For now, it was enough to have a plan, it was enough to be together…

The years in the mines had hardened them all, but they had done what they set out to do. (Y/N) could control her magic now, keeping it hidden when needed, calling on it when necessary. She had learned to harness it, to let it flow without losing herself to it.

And more importantly, she had survived.

The four of them still lived together, still watched each other’s backs, but things were changing. They weren’t just desperate kids scrambling to make it through another day. They had goals now, real ones.

Vander had been saving for a while, working longer shifts, cutting corners on meals, taking riskier but better-paying jobs when he could. And now, he had almost enough to buy the old abandoned bar near the Markets.

Felicia had rolled her eyes when he first mentioned it. "You want to be a bartender now?"

Vander had just grinned. "I want to own something. To have a place of our own. A real home."

The idea had stuck.

It would take time, but if they pulled it off, it could be the start of something bigger. A place where they didn’t have to run. A place they could build something for themselves.

Silco had been skeptical at first, but even he had to admit- having a secure location came with its advantages. And Felicia? Well, she liked the idea of a bar because it meant easy access to drinks and a place to keep an eye on the people who owed them favors.

(Y/N)? She just liked the idea of having a home that wasn’t temporary.

They weren’t there yet. But soon, they would be.

And for the first time in a long time, the future felt like something worth looking forward to.

The mines had given them more than just a way to hide- they had given them purpose. Vander and Silco had worked their way up the ranks, gaining respect and authority, while (Y/N) and Felicia put in long hours, their earnings adding to Vander’s growing stash.

The bar was so close to being theirs.

And now, they just had to name it.

"‘The Last Drop,’" Vander mused, leaning back in his chair. "I like it."

Felicia snorted. "Of course, you do. It sounds dramatic enough for you."

(Y/N) smirked. "It is a good name, though. Feels… fitting."

Silco nodded, swirling the cheap liquor in his glass. "A place for the desperate. The ones at the end of their rope. The last refuge before you fall."

Vander grinned. "See? Dramatic. But I like that."

Felicia raised her hands in surrender. "Fine, fine. ‘The Last Drop’ it is."

It felt right… It wasn’t just a name. It was theirs.

It didn't take long to actually achieve it.

After years of scraping by, of moving from place to place, of struggling just to survive, they finally had something permanent…

Vander had stood in the middle of the empty space, hands on his hips, taking it all in with a quiet sense of pride. "Needs work," he had admitted. "But we’ll fix it up."

And they did.

It wasn’t grand, not yet, but it had walls, a roof that mostly kept the rain out, and a counter where drinks could be poured. It had a future.

As Vander and Silco’s reputation grew, so did their network of trusted allies. They weren’t in power- not yet- but they had people who listened when they spoke. People who respected them. And in the Undercity, that was worth more than coin.

One of those people was Benzo, a shop owner they had recently met. His pawn shop sat close to the bar, a place filled with oddities, old weapons, and trinkets that told stories of lives long past. He was sharp, experienced, and- most importantly- he knew things. The kind of man who had eyes and ears in the right places.

And then there was Connol.

Felicia had met him recently, and though she hadn’t shared much about him yet, there was something different in the way she talked about him. A flicker of something new.

The world was shifting around them, and they were finally in a position to shape it instead of just surviving it.

For the first time in years, the future wasn’t just something to fear. It was something to build.

The bar had settled into a comfortable quiet, the kind that only came when the night had dragged on and most of the patrons had stumbled home.

(Y/N) exhaled a slow breath, the ember of her cigarette glowing softly in the dim light. Next to her, Silco leaned over his book, writing with careful strokes, his whiskey glass half-full beside him. Vander stood behind the bar, absentmindedly wiping down the counter, still getting used to the rhythm of tending to the place.

Felicia wasn’t here- she had been disappearing more and more, off doing whatever it was she did with Connol. None of them had asked. Not yet.

Silco turned a page, but his mind wasn’t on the words. It hadn’t been for a while.

He had been thinking- turning an idea over in his mind, letting it take root, letting it grow. The Undercity… It wasn’t just a slum, wasn’t just a place where people survived at the mercy of Piltover’s scraps. It could be more. It should be more.

And maybe- just maybe- they could be the ones to make it happen.

He tapped his pen against the book, then glanced at (Y/N), who was watching him through the smoke curling between them.

"You’ve got that look again," she murmured.

Silco smirked. "What look?"

"The one that means you’re thinking too much."

Vander chuckled from behind the bar. "That is a dangerous thing."

Silco leaned back in his seat, swirling the whiskey in his glass. "Have you ever thought about what the Undercity could be?"

Vander raised a brow. "It is what it is, Silco."

Silco shook his head. "No, it’s what they let it be. Piltover controls everything- our work, our trade, our lives. We live in their shadow, scraping by, pretending that’s all we’ll ever have."

(Y/N) stubbed out her cigarette, watching him closely. "And you think we can change that?"

Silco’s grip tightened around his glass. "I know we can."

Vander sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. "Silco…"

"No, listen," Silco pressed, leaning forward. "We have a foothold now. We have people who trust us, who listen to us. The bar isn’t just a business- it’s a gathering place. A starting point." His eyes gleamed with conviction. "We could be more than this. It could stand on its own. No more crawling to Piltover for scraps. No more living under their rule."

Silco let the words settle between them.

(Y/N) glanced at Vander, who was frowning, thoughtful but hesitant.

"You want to make a war out of this?" Vander finally asked, voice low.

Silco exhaled slowly. "I want to make a home. A real one. One where we don’t have to answer to anyone but ourselves... We can make Zaun..."

(Y/N) was quiet for a long moment. Then, slowly, she reached for another cigarette. "You really think we could pull it off?"

Silco met her gaze, unwavering. "I think if we don’t, no one else ever will."

Vander sighed again, shaking his head- but he didn’t argue.

Because deep down, maybe part of him agreed.

Silco let the idea simmer, allowing Vander and (Y/N) to sit with it, to think about it. He knew better than to push too fast- Vander was cautious, (Y/N) measured. But the seed was planted.

He had spent years thinking about it, turning the idea over in his mind like a gambler weighing his last coin. The Undercity didn’t have to be a gutter for Piltover’s discarded souls. It could be Zaun- not just a slum, not just the shadows beneath the gleaming city above, but a true city. A force of its own.

The mines, the industry, the people- they were the backbone of Piltover’s prosperity. Without them, the Pilties would crumble under the weight of their own arrogance. And yet, the Undercity was treated as a wasteland, a place to be managed rather than respected.

Silco envisioned something greater. A Zaun that stood apart, that no longer bowed to Piltover’s rules. A Zaun where they decided their own future, not one dictated by Piltover’s Enforcers and Council laws.

The bar was quiet now, save for the occasional clink of glass and the low hum of the Undercity’s ever-present machinery beyond its doors. The night stretched on, thick with unspoken thoughts and the weight of Silco’s vision lingering between them.

(Y/N) nursed her drink, her fingers loosely wrapped around the glass as the warmth of it settled in her chest. She was buzzed- definitely buzzed. A lightweight, as always. But that was just how things were down here. You started young, numbing the cold grip of the Undercity however you could.

Vander had stopped trying to stop her a long time ago.

"You’re thinking about it," Silco mused beside her, his voice low and knowing.

(Y/N) smirked lazily, swirling the remnants of her drink. "’Course I am. It’s a lot to think about."

He nodded, taking another sip of his whiskey. "You don’t have to decide anything now."

She snorted. "I know. You’re letting it sit with us, right?"

Silco chuckled, amused. She was sharp, even with alcohol softening the edges of her thoughts. He liked that about her.

She leaned back, exhaling. "Zaun," she murmured, rolling the word on her tongue. "Feels... different. Feels like something real."

Silco glanced at her, studying the way she stared at her drink, thoughtful even through the haze of liquor.

"It will be real," he said, certainty laced in his tone. "Someday."

(Y/N) didn’t argue. Didn’t scoff. She just nodded, because maybe, just maybe, she could see it too.

After some time, Vander started to moved through the bar with practiced ease, cutting people off, sending the last stragglers stumbling toward the door. The place was shutting down for the night. Not that it mattered much to (Y/N) or Silco. They lived here.

Silco sat comfortably, still sipping at his whiskey, but (Y/N)… She had gone quiet.

Her second drink sat half-finished in front of her, her gaze fixed on the worn wood of the bar. The alcohol had softened her edges, but instead of making her talkative, it had drawn her inward.

She was thinking.

Silco knew that look.

(Y/N) didn’t talk much about her past- not beyond the bare bones of it. They all knew about her magic, but her mother? Her life before coming to the Undercity? That was a locked door she never let them open.

Instead, she lit another cigarette, the flicker of flame briefly illuminating her face before she inhaled, filling her lungs with smoke and whiskey, pushing everything else down.

Silco watched her for a moment before breaking the silence.

"Heavy thoughts?"

(Y/N) exhaled, the smoke curling toward the ceiling. "Always."

He hummed, tilting his glass. "Anything worth sharing?"

She smirked, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. "Not tonight."

That was how it always was, so Silco didn’t push.

He just poured himself another drink and stayed beside her, letting the ghosts settle in around them.

Question: Aside from fanfics, are you open to headcanon requests? If so, do you have any sort of character limit?

Hello, anon! :}

I'm open to doing headcannons, I mean, I basically insert all of my hc's into the stories I write LOL

It might take some getting used to, though! Since I'm so used to writing flowing stories.

As of right now, I don't have a character limit. But be aware, the more that is requested, the longer it might take to write. I usually write every other day, so I have days in between to draw. I'd appreciate if the characters requested are in the same fandoms, though. Unless it's something like a mix of fandoms, like my Hunter x Fem!Reader (which was a mix of TOH and SU) fic that was requested.

Just make sure any requests follow the guidelines on my masterlist, and I'd be more than willing to try!

Thank you for asking!

Can you do platonic sera x overlord!reader multipart/fanfction?

The lore: The Y/N is a powerful overlord who own entertainment district of pentangram (he posses velvet tea and Vox souls after they tired to kidnap Charlie, val dies lol) also he’s best friend of alastor and Charlie Morningstar. During one of this meeting with his subordinates vox and velvette they noticed something was fallen from heaven, they goes to check this out only to find out fallen sera and VERY hurt and wounded Emily, after he find out they known Charlie he help takes Emily to hotel, where lucifer helps Emily with her wounds. Y/N calm down sera enough to she could tell what happened in heaven. In heaven after sera approved Charlie plan after extermination, where due to that pentonius reddemed himself, lute somehow thanks to other seraphim’s, which convinced that hell and their allies are the danger managed to overthrow sera and the rest seraphim’s who were on sera and Emily side and she (lute) brought totalitarian rule to heaven.lute kills pentonius for being a “spy” and BRUTTALY injures Emily (she lost wings, right leg, left hand and the right eye) and banish her and sera to hell. She also planned in 6 months organize the final extermination, where he plans to kill all people not only from hell but also on earth.

A/N: Yes, of course! This one took me... Way longer than I thought it would LOL. Got it done though! Gonna start working on my other requests now, since this was the one I was solely focusing on, trying to get it done :} Also, fair warning, I didnt have all the colors I wanted for their dialogue. (Y/N), Charlie, Alastor, Sera, and Emily all have specific colors, buttttt... Everyone else doesn't. Sorry, but I did what I could.

Ashes of Grace

Sera x Overlord!Male!Reader

Warnings: Religious themes, Violence/Body horror, Death, Torture/Enslavement, Corruption of authority, Genocide/Extermination, Substance use

Word Count: 4868

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Pentagram City rarely slept. And neither did its monsters. Between the sleaze and sin, the neon-soaked streets, and the endless echoes of jazz and gunfire, power shifts were as common- and as violent- as the weather.

When Valentino’s body finally hit the floor, burned out and twitching under the weight of a wrath he'd never anticipated, the District changed forever.

At the center of it all stood (Y/N)- a name now spoken in equal parts awe and terror. A new overlord, born not from vanity or greed, but something deeper. Something biblical.

His rise hadn't just been loud; it had been seismic. After Velvette and Vox made the mistake of trying to kidnap Charlie Morningstar- Hell’s favorite princess, and (Y/N)'s dearest friend- (Y/N) retaliated with fire and iron. Velvette and Vox now belonged to him, their souls shackled to his service. Sometimes figuratively, sometimes... not. They wore their chains like tarnished jewelry, reminders of the price of betrayal.

Valentino didn’t get that luxury.

He died.

And with him, the District fell.

What rose from the ashes wasn't just a new territory. It was an empire of creativity, ruthlessness, and control- no longer just a playground for abusers, but a stage for something greater. Alastor, always amused by chaos, had grinned wide at the news. Charlie, overwhelmed, had cried when it was over, throwing her arms around (Y/N)'s shoulders.

"Thank you," she whispered against him, her best friend…

(Y/N) only nodded, hiding the smoldering rage still burning deep in his bones.

A week passed. And inside his repurposed theater, (Y/N) lounged in a battered chair at the head of a heavy oak table, eyeing Vox and Velvette with lazy disinterest.

The two former overlords sat like petulant children, glaring daggers at anything but him.

"Don't act so bitter," (Y/N) drawled, resting his chin in one hand. "You're lucky I didn't turn you into lawn ornaments."

"I'd rather be one," Velvette muttered under her breath. "At least I had free will before."

Before (Y/N) could reply, something flashed through the high, smoke-clogged sky.

Not light. Not in the Hellborn sense.

It was something... higher… And it was falling fast.

Vox stiffened, staring upwards. "...That came from upstairs."

The theater doors slammed open, and they raced outside.

What they found wasn’t a crash site. It was a massacre.

The crater still smoked, shards of shattered halos glittering in the ash. Feathers- too white, too pure- floated like dying fireflies through the air. In the center, two figures lay broken.

One was barely breathing- her right leg severed, her hand gone, one eye torn out, her wings sheared off like scrap paper.

The other, though bleeding and shaking, was already dragging herself upright. Protective. Furious. Radiating raw divinity even through the grime.

(Y/N) approached carefully, his hands open, head tilted like a curious wolf.

"...You're angels," he said slowly. "Do you know Charlie?"

The seraphim’s expression cracked. She nodded, voice raw. "Yes... She's... our friend."

That was all (Y/N) needed.

Without hesitation, he lifted the mutilated one- Emily-into his arms. Gentle, despite the gore. His voice was low, steady.

"Then you're not enemies," he said. "You're survivors."

The Happy Hotel had seen its share of strange guests. But even here, Emily’s condition turned every head.

Charlie gasped the second she saw her, rushing forward to help. Vaggie barked sharp orders at Angel and Husk, clearing the lobby with military precision. Alastor, all false grins and real concern, set up a makeshift recovery area with eerie efficiency.

Then, Lucifer Morningstar himself swept in, as radiant and ridiculous as ever.

"Charlie!" he boomed, voice theatrical. "I came to see if-" His words cut off the second he spotted Emily. “Oh, fuck…”

Then Lucifer dropped to his knees beside her, pressing a glowing hand over Emily’s shattered body. His usual swagger softened into something almost tender.

"Hold on," he murmured. "We can fix you."

Hours later, after Emily stabilized under a blanket of maigc and careful hands, (Y/N) sat across from the still-shaking seraphim- Sera.

She couldn’t sit still. Pacing, flinching at every noise. Until finally, (Y/N) stood and placed a steadying hand on her shoulder.

"Breathe," he said quietly. "You're safe."

Slowly, she exhaled. And spoke.

"After Sir Pentious... After he came to Heaven, some of us began to question things," she said hoarsely. "Charlie’s idea of redemption didn’t seem so crazy anymore. Emily and I... we supported it. We gathered others. We tried to change things from within."

Her voice broke.

"But then came Lute."

The name seemed to leech the warmth from the room.

"After losing her arm in the fight you all had, she twisted everything. She called Charlie a devil. Called the hotel a trap. She rallied the fearful and the bitter... and they listened. Heaven turned into a machine."

Sera’s fists trembled.

"They hunted us. Emily and I were caught trying to flee. She... She ripped Emily apart. Then she banished us here, as a warning."

At the doorway, Charlie stood frozen, fists shaking.

Sera turned to face them fully.

"And it’s worse than that. She’s planning a Final Extermination. In six months. Not just Hell. Not just sinners. Earth, too."

Silence fell like a blade.

(Y/N) straightened, shadows unfurling around his boots. His voice, when it came, was steel.

"Then we’re not just saving Hell anymore," he said. "We’re saving everyone."

...Far above, Heaven's Throne Room had changed...

Where once golden beams warmed marble floors, now the light was colder, harsher, casting long skeletal shadows.

Lute sat perched atop a jagged throne, once a Exterminator- now a Leader.

A trembling seraphim bowed low before her.

"All remaining supporters of Sera have been purged. The rest... converted."

"And the traitors?" Lute asked. Her voice was a metallic hiss.

"Banished or destroyed."

She rose, wings unfolding in sharp, almost mechanical snaps.

"In six months’ time," she declared, "there will be no Hell. No Earth. Only perfection. Heaven will ascend through fire."

The court erupted in cold cheers as the corrupted seraphim spread their wings.

Back in the Happy Hotel, Emily’s eye fluttered open.

She was alive. Battered. Different. But alive.

Charlie was instantly by her side, gripping her hand tightly.

"You’re safe," Charlie whispered. "I promise."

Emily tried to sit up, her body aching with every movement.

"C-Charlie...?"

"Yes, it's me. Don’t worry. We’ve got you."

Lucifer, leaning nearby, flashed a crooked, nervous smile.

"Only because bleeding out on my daughter’s carpet is absolutely unacceptable. Bad for the aesthetic," he said, lightly. Then, more serious, he added, "I healed what I could. Your leg, your hand... But your wings..." He trailed off, frowning. "Those may take more work."

Tears welled in Emily’s remaining eye.

"Sir Pentious... He's really..."

Lucifer’s face darkened... Charlie just hugged her tighter.

Across the room, Sera sat curled at the bar, silent. Husk, uncharacteristically gentle, pushed a mug of something nonalcoholic toward her.

Nearby, Alastor watched with predatory curiosity.

"So," he said brightly. "Heaven’s fallen into the claws of a madwoman. Your friends butchered. Your hopes dashed." He smiled wider. "Welcome to Hell."

Sera flinched.

"We tried," she whispered. "We tried to save them. We believed in Charlie's dream..."

(Y/N) approached quietly, Vox and Velvette trailing behind like resentful ghosts.

"You still believe in it?" he asked.

Sera looked up, tears brimming.

"Yes."

He nodded once, a grim glint in his eye.

"Then we fight."

From the couch, Angel Dust cackled, tossing a grenade from hand to hand.

"About time! I’ve been dying to throw hands with someone uptight!"

It didn't take long for one of the Hotel’s many rooms to be taken, and changed. Celestial maps sprawled across walls and floors. Candles flickered wildly against the cracked stone.

Around a heavy oak table stood Lucifer, Charlie, Alastor, and (Y/N)- each face carved with focus.

"She wants to erase everything," Charlie said, voice tight. "Not just sinners. Everyone."

Alastor chuckled, low and eerie. "An ambitious apocalypse. I almost admire it."

(Y/N) planted his palms on the table, voice low and furious.

"We can't just defend. We strike first."

Charlie nodded fiercely, fire blazing in her eyes.

"We’re going to stop her. We’re going to prove we matter."

Lucifer clapped a proud hand on her shoulder.

"That’s my girl."

The mood was heavy, but not hopeless. A tense undercurrent thrummed through the room, setting everyone on edge. Maps and blueprints lay scattered across the table, papers weighed down with empty mugs and books. Sera stood at the center of it all, tracing a slow line along a map with two fingers, brow furrowed.

Around her, the others listened in silence. Charlie, Lucifer, (Y/N), Alastor, Vaggie, Angel Dust, Husk, and Emily- propped up in a wheelchair and bundled in fresh bandages around her shoulders- watched with focused, anxious attention.

"Most of Heaven’s 'Winners' are still willing to listen," Sera said, voice low but steady. "They aren't like the Angels. They're just... humans. Humans who died and moved on. They remember. They can think for themselves."

Charlie tilted her head thoughtfully. "But what do they have to do with all this?"

"If we’re going to have any support up there, it'll be through them," Sera replied. She glanced around the room. "Lute’s seized control of Heaven’s higher ranks. She's convinced most of the Angels, crowned herself their queen. But the Winners... they’re still undecided."

(Y/N) crossed his arms, the gears already turning behind his narrowed eyes. "We could start a rebellion inside Heaven itself. Get the truth out before Lute locks everything down."

Sera gave a sharp nod. "Exactly. But we don’t have much time. After Emily and I fell, Lute accelerated her plans. She’s preparing the final phase right now."

"Then we don't just defend anymore," Lucifer said, his voice darkening. "We invade."

Sera met his gaze without flinching. "We hit fast. We send the message. And we take Lute out before she can trigger the Final Purge."

As the meeting dissolved into quieter preparations, Angel Dust wheeled Emily back toward her new room, a soft pink guest suite Charlie had thrown together- full of pillows, gauzy curtains, and delicate little touches meant to comfort. Emily was quiet, shrinking into herself, the overwhelming changes of the past days pressing in on her.

Angel, never good with heavy silences, plopped into a chair beside her and swung an arm lazily over the backrest. "So," he drawled, "how’s it feel bein’ the first angel who didn’t try to shank me on sight?"

Emily managed a weak, almost surprised smile. "We were taught that... souls in Hell couldn’t feel... I knew no different until I met Charlie."

He snorted and bumped her elbow with his. "Yeah, well, guess we’re full of surprises down here. Welcome to the club, doll."

She blinked, absorbing that, then tentatively leaned against him. "Thanks... for not being thrown off by me."

"Pfft." Angel waved it off. "Sweetheart, I’ve seen worse. Hell, you look better than half my dates."

"...I’m not sure if that’s comforting."

"It ain’t. But it’s true."

Later that evening, the corridors of the hotel grew quieter. Emily, wrapped in a simple jacket Charlie had picked out for her, made her way slowly down the hall. Every step was stiff, awkward- her balance thrown off.

Pushing through the swinging doors, she made her way to the bar, wincing as she hoisted herself onto a stool. Husk looked up from polishing glasses, one ear twitching as he noticed her.

"Not servin' you liquor, kid," he muttered, voice rough. "Charlie’d have my ass."

"I don't want a drink," Emily said quietly. "I just... wanted noise. Not pity."

Husk grunted, setting the glass down. "You walked pretty far," he said, more observation than praise.

Emily let out a hollow little laugh. "Didn’t want to stay in that room. It's too... Quiet."

She tapped the side of her head lightly. "When it’s that quiet, all I can hear is screaming from outside..."

Husk didn’t flinch. He just leaned his weight against the bar and nodded slightly, like he understood all too well.

They sat in silence for a while, broken only by the low hum of the fridge and the occasional clink of glass against glass.

Eventually, Husk broke the quiet. "Why’d you come down here, really?"

Emily hesitated, looking down at the frayed sleeve covering her wrist. "Because... I think I'm scared." Her voice cracked slightly. "I don't know what I'm supposed to be anymore."

For a moment, Husk simply stared at her. Then, with a grunt, he reached beneath the bar and pulled out a battered, worn playing card- the Queen of Hearts. Its corners were frayed, a small tear across the center.

"My last hand in a real poker game," he said, sliding it across the bar to her. "Lost everything. Still survived."

Emily stared down at the card like it was something sacred.

"You’re giving this to me?"

"Loaning it," Husk corrected. "For luck."

She tucked the card against her chest like armor, tears stinging the corners of her eyes. "Thanks," she whispered.

"Don't thank me. Win the next hand."

Meanwhile, across the hotel, final preparations were underway. In the lounge, Lucifer clapped his hands sharply, drawing everyone's attention.

"Our infiltration team, then," he announced, a glint of theatrical excitement in his eye. "Charlie- the optimist; Sera- the righteous outcast; Emily- our fallen helper; and you, dear (Y/N)- the wildcard’s wildcard."

(Y/N) raised an eyebrow. "You gonna narrate the whole mission?"

"Only the dramatic parts," Lucifer quipped, giving him a large smile.

"...So basically, all of it," (Y/N) muttered.

Charlie, ever the peacemaker, cleared her throat gently. "We have three objectives: reach the Holy Gates, rally the Winners to our side, and remove Lute before she can lead an attack."

Lucifer’s playful air faded slightly, replaced by something colder, sharper. "This isn’t just about Hell anymore. Or Heaven. This is about Earth. About proving redemption isn't some cruel joke."

Sera met his gaze and nodded once, solemn. "Then we strike fast."

At Lucifer’s gesture, a portal shimmered open in the air, unstable and crackling with divine static. It glowed like a tear in reality itself- liquid gold and silver threads of light straining to stay woven together.

Charlie approached the portal first, her hands trembling slightly, though her face was set with determination. Opening a portal to Heaven from Hell was unnatural, dangerous- and it showed. The light bled into the floor, the walls, everything it touched humming unnervingly.

"We don't know how long it'll hold," Lucifer warned. "Maybe a few hours. Maybe less if you screw around too much... Portals like these aren't usually supposed to be opened from this side..."

(Y/N) adjusted his coat, checking the weapons strapped across his hips. Nearby, Vox and Velvette watched, their usual smugness tempered by real worry. Sera tightened her grip on her sword, the blade gleaming faintly. Emily secured Husk’s playing card near her heart, her new sword slung awkwardly across her back.

Together, they looked ready.

Charlie turned back to Lucifer, her eyes fierce. "We’ll be back."

Lucifer smiled- but it was a fragile thing, brittle at the edges. "I know," he said.

Without another word, they stepped through the portal- and into stillness.

The air on the other side was cool, quiet in a way that felt... unnatural, like the whole world was holding its breath.

The gates loomed ahead, bathed in blinding light that offered no warmth. The team emerged slowly, blinking against the unnatural brilliance. Emily exhaled shakily, her hand tightening on her sword.

“The gates aren't usually... empty,” she muttered.

Normally, Saint Peter would have stood watch. Now, there was only silence.

(Y/N) swept his gaze over the endless marble sprawl before them. The architecture was grand, opulent- but it felt hollow, abandoned. Like a stage after the actors had fled mid-performance.

Sera muttered under her breath, voice strained. "This isn't right. Something's wrong."

Charlie tightened her grip on her staff, glancing nervously at the others. "We need to move. Fast."

They slipped forward through the eerie stillness, boots whispering over immaculate stone. Statues of angels lined the path, their faces twisted into expressions that were almost... pained. Not the serene smiles Heaven was famous for.

Emily limped slightly, favoring her newly healed leg, but kept pace grimly, the Queen of Hearts tucked safe against her ribs. She refused to slow them down.

As they neared the first courtyard- a vast open space dominated by a towering monument of silver and gold- (Y/N) raised a hand sharply. "Wait."

Movement… At first, it was just a ripple, like a heat mirage. Then forms began to materialize.

Dozens. No- hundreds.

Figures stepped out from the edges of the courtyard- Winners, eyes shadowed, hesitant. They were armed with angelic weapons- some with swords, others with halberds or spears- but none of them attacked.

Instead, they just... stared.

One woman near the front- a thin, graying soul with sharp cheekbones, hollow eyes, and large bunny ears- took a step forward.

"You're the ones who escaped," she said, voice cracking.

Her gaze landed on Sera, then Emily. "You came back."

Charlie stepped forward quickly, heart hammering in her chest. "Please- we’re not here to fight you. We’re here to stop Lute. To save everyone."

Murmurs rippled through the crowd. Some looked uncertain. Others terrified. A few- a precious few- hopeful.

(Y/N) moved to stand beside Charlie, his voice carrying clean across the courtyard. "You know what she’s planning," he said coldly. "You’ve seen the signs. The exterminations... the disappearances. Heaven isn't salvation anymore. It's a slaughterhouse with a crown."

Silence.

Emily, breathless and shaking, found her voice. "I lost everything because I tried to help," she said, voice trembling but steady. "Sera and I... we saw the truth. If you stand with her, you'll lose yourselves, too."

A long, agonizing pause.

Then- a man near the back threw down his spear.

It clattered against the marble with a ringing finality.

One by one, others followed. Weapons dropped. People stepping out of their neat little lines, their faces raw with emotion.

The graying woman stepped forward again, her hands shaking.

"We follow you now," she whispered

(Y/N) let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding.

Charlie pressed a shaking hand to her mouth, overwhelmed.

Sera looked ready to collapse from relief.

But before anyone could celebrate-

A loud banging sound tore through the air. Mechanical. Shattering. It echoed through the bones of the city like a death knell.

Charlie paled instantly. "She's coming."

From above, like a thundercloud, Lute descended. Around her, Exterminators unfolded from the shadows- sleek, brutal things, all flashing blades, baring their masks.

Lute smiled- a cruel, hateful one. "So this," she hissed, "is your rebellion?"

The newly turned Winners hesitated, fear rippling through their ranks.

(Y/N) stepped forward without hesitation, drawing his blade in one smooth motion, the tip glinting with something darker than metal.

He didn’t need to shout.

His presence alone was command enough.

Emily braced herself, lifting her sword with both hands. Sera set her jaw, raising her blade to guard. Charlie lifted her hands, trembling- but with fire in her eyes.

Lute laughed, the sound hollow and electric. "So be it," she said. "You can all burn together."

The Exterminators surged forward.

And the battle for Heaven began.

Lute met (Y/N)'s charge head-on, screaming a soundless war-cry, her wings flaring out wide like a specter of vengeance.

Their blades collided- but (Y/N) didn’t yield. He pressed forward, every strike hammering her defenses, forcing her back with sheer will. Charlie fought at his side, her eyes glowing with desperate red light, every swing of her claws another prayer hurled like a weapon. Sera drove her blade home again and again, ignoring the golden blood leaking from her side where a blade had caught her earlier. Emily, staggering but unbroken, struck too- a shallow cut, but enough to make Lute snarl and stagger.

The four of them moved like a single force. Hope. Anger. Love. Defiance.

"You're DONE!" (Y/N) bellowed. He struck low- a brutal, gouging slash across her knees.

Sera was already moving, her sword flashing upwards- tearing open Lute’s exposed side. And Emily- battered, exhausted Emily- threw her sword with everything she had.

The blade spun through the air- and punched through Lute’s heart.

The world seemed to stop.

Lute gasped, golden blood streaming from her mouth. Her wings spasmed violently, the corrupted light sputtering. Her eyes, so cold and cruel, flickered- fear flashing through them for the first time.

She fell to her knees.

"You… can’t…" she rasped.

(Y/N) stood over her, breathing hard, the others gathering behind him.

"You already lost," he said, voice quiet and absolute.

Lute tried to lunge one last time- a desperate, broken advance-

(Y/N) drove his blade through her throat.

The light died.

Lute crumpled, falling limp onto the marble. The Exterminators, leaderless, gave in, most either fleeing, or tossing down their weapons in defeat.

Across the courtyard, the everyone fell silent.

The battle was over. For a long moment, none of them moved.

The only sound was the ragged breathing of the survivors.

Then, slowly, Winners who had fought alongside them began to move through the carnage, beginning to clear the battlefield- gathering their fallen, offering silent prayers.

An eerie, heavy silence settled over Heaven’s once-pristine halls.

At the center of it all, (Y/N) stood with Charlie, Sera, and Emily.

Sera wiped her blade on her tattered dress and sheathed it slowly. She walked over, Emily limping close beside her, the two of them visibly shaken but steady.

Sera stopped before them, and for a moment, the words caught in her throat… Then she bowed- a deep, respectful gesture.

"You saved us," Sera said, her voice rough but sure. "You saved Heaven."

Emily offered a trembling smile, her bandaged hand pressed to her heart.

"You saved us," she echoed. "And... maybe yourselves too."

Charlie shook her head, her eyes shining with unshed tears. "We saved each other."

Sera smiled- soft, sad, but real. She looked at the group- at Charlie, at (Y/N), at Vaggie, Angel Dust, Husk, Alastor lingering just out of the bloodstained light.

"I hope," Sera said, "that one day... when your mission fully succeeds... when Hell isn’t just a prison anymore... we’ll see you all again."

She swallowed hard, her hand brushing against her sisters.

"In Heaven."

Emily nodded fiercely, emotion thick in her throat. "You deserve it," she said. "Every one of you."

(Y/N) tilted his head slightly, a faint smile curling the corner of his mouth- something tired, but deeply grateful. "We'll hold you to that," he said.

Behind them, the golden portal by the gates- flickering dangerously now- shuddered violently, cracks spiderwebbing across its edges.

Lucifer’s voice echoed from near the portal, "Time’s up! If you don’t wanna get stuck up here with the corpses, MOVE!"

Charlie turned, urgency snapping her back into motion. She grabbed Vaggie and (Y/N)'s wrist, tugging them toward the portal. Sera and Emily stepped aside, watching them go with solemn pride.

One by one, they sprinted toward the portal, battered and bruised- but alive. Alastor practically skipped through, humming under his breath. Angel Dust threw an exaggerated salute at Emily before diving in backward. Husk grumbled something about Emily keeping the card he gave her under his breath, but followed close behind.

The light swallowed them all.

And then- with a soft shuddering sigh- the portal collapsed, leaving only the broken battlefield and the survivors behind.

Above the battered gates of Heaven, for the first time in what felt like an eternity, the light began to soften. No longer harsh. No longer cruel.

But warm.

Hopeful.

And far below- in a hotel full of sinners and misfits- redemption no longer seemed like just a dream.

The group stumbled out of the collapsing portal like survivors of a storm. They hit the lobby floor hard, some collapsing onto couches, others simply dropping where they stood.

Charlie sagged against the wall, clutching her chest, gasping huge breaths of smoky hotel air like it was the sweetest thing she’d ever tasted. Angel Dust sprawled dramatically across a bench, one leg draped over the backrest. "We’re alive! Suck it, Heaven!" Vaggie just dropped onto a nearby chair, burying her face in her hands with a weak laugh. Husk growled low in his throat, shuffling over to the bar- which Charlie didn’t even bother to scold him for.

(Y/N) stood a little apart from them all, his shoulders tight with exhaustion but his eyes still sharp, scanning every corner like he expected another attack.

Alastor straightened his coat with a little flourish, looking barely ruffled despite the battle they'd just fought. He approached, that permanent sharp-toothed smile a bit softer now- genuine, in its strange, predatory way.

"My, my," Alastor said, voice lilting. "I knew you had potential, but even I didn’t expect that little symphony." He gave (Y/N) a low, mocking bow. "You have my admiration."

(Y/N) snorted quietly. "Coming from you, that's... concerning." But a tiny smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth.

Charlie pushed off the wall, her footsteps slow but determined, and closed the distance between them. She stopped in front of (Y/N), looking up at him with an expression so open, so grateful, it nearly staggered him.

"You didn’t have to do this," she said quietly. "You didn’t have to stay." Her voice wavered, just slightly. "But you did. And you saved so many more lives than just ours."

(Y/N) reached up, brushing his knuckles lightly under her chin, tipping her head just a fraction higher. "You’re my friend," he said simply. "That's all the reason I need."

Charlie’s throat bobbed in a thick swallow. She reached out impulsively- wrapped her arms around him in a tight, fierce hug. For a second (Y/N) froze- then he exhaled, slow and warm, and wrapped his arms back around her, grounding her.

Alastor watched with a faint tilt to his head, the smile on his face unreadable, but his red eyes softened around the edges.

When they finally pulled apart, Charlie’s smile was damp and glowing. "You’re one of us," she said. "No matter what anyone says."

(Y/N) ruffled her hair lightly, making her sputter a weak laugh- before his expression turned a little wry.

"...Speaking of things that belong to others," he muttered, voice dry.

Across the lobby, Vox and Velvette- looking thoroughly miserable- stood awkwardly by the doors. Velvette noticed him looking and made a dramatic gagging motion. Vox simply scowled, his screen flickering with static annoyance.

Charlie giggled nervously at the sight, covering her mouth. Even Alastor chuckled low in his chest, the sound like an old radio popping on.

(Y/N) sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "Yeah. I better get the gremlins back to their cage before they start redecorating."

He turned back to Charlie and Alastor one last time, catching their expressions- tired but proud.

With a mock salute, (Y/N) turned on his heel and strode across the room. He grabbed Vox by the back of his stupid designer jacket and yanked him forward, ignoring the glitchy cursing. Velvette followed, grumbling under her breath.

The front doors of the Hotel creaked open with a slow, eerie groan. (Y/N) paused just once in the doorway- glanced back over his shoulder.

At the threshold, the warm, battered light of the Hotel spilled across the floor behind him. It caught the edges of his coat, the lines of his frame, silhouetting him against the chaos they'd left- and the strange, imperfect hope they'd returned to.

Charlie stood watching him, Vaggie at her side, Angel Dust waving lazily from his perch. Alastor leaned on his cane nearby, grinning wide but... almost actually looking happy, while Husk offered a casual two-fingered salute from the bar.

(Y/N) let the corner of his mouth quirk up- a tired, crooked smile- and gave a simple nod.

Then he turned, dragging his reluctant prisoners with him, disappearing into the neon-drenched night of Pentagram City.

Outside, the air buzzed with tension and distant sirens and screams, the streets littered with scattered debris from the city’s usual violence. But somewhere under all the rot and grime, a pulse beat- faint, stubborn. The pulse of change. Of something new.

Inside the Hotel, Charlie wiped her face quickly, sniffling once before straightening her back.

"We're going to make this work," she said quietly, but with growing conviction. "We're going to fix this. All of it."

Vaggie squeezed her hand tightly. "We will."

Alastor chuckled, adjusting his tie. "The world will never know what hit it."

Angel Dust sprawled further across the bench with a groan. "Wake me up when it’s time for the afterparty."

Husk just muttered into his glass, "We better get a damn good one."