You Write For Helluva Boss?

A/N: This is the sequel to Ember in the Dark! I really enjoy writing for this fic :}

Loyalty Cuts Deepest pt.1

Silco x Fem!Reader

(Ember in the Dark- prequel) pt.1

Warnings: Violence/Gore, Death/Grief, Trauma, Substance Use, War/Revolution Themes.

Word Count: 6110

Summary: After a failed topside heist, the kids return to The Last Drop bruised and reeking of trouble. (Y/N) and Vander quickly realize something went wrong- an explosion, a chase, and Enforcer heat. They soon learn Piltover is demanding someone take the fall. Vander refuses to give up the kids. Just as Grayson arrives, Silco reemerges- changed, vengeful, and flanked by a monstrous ally. He slaughters the Enforcers, kills Benzo, and takes Vander. When Silco turns to (Y/N), she sees a man both familiar and monstrous. Despite everything, she still loves him- and when he asks her to come, she does. They disappear into the shadows, leaving the shattered remnants of their family behind.

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

The bar had been alive with its usual hum- clinking glasses, laughter a little too loud, the low rhythm of a deal being whispered between regulars at the corner booth. (Y/N) had fallen into the comfort of routine, her hands quick behind the bar, pouring drinks and trading coin, while Vander worked beside Huck a few steps away, smoothing out a supply deal with his usual half-gruff charm.

It had been a good night.

Until the door creaked open, and the kids walked in.

The smell hit first.

Then the bruises.

Then- Powder’s wide eyes, Vi’s split lip, Mylo’s torn sleeve, and Claggor’s slumped shoulders. They looked like they’d crawled through the Undercity’s rot and back again, covered in grime, bruised and battered- and definitely not just from a run through the Lanes.

(Y/N)’s entire body went still.

Vander looked up, went quiet. She caught his eye, and they both moved without a word- leaving one of the bartenders to manage the bar.

They followed the trail of reek and silence down into the back room.

Before they even reached the door, they could hear the muffled voices- Vi’s sharp whisper, Mylo’s whine, Powder’s soft murmur- and something tight curled in (Y/N)’s gut.

She pushed open the door.

There they were- slouched around the coffee table like the ghosts of their younger selves. Vi in the armchair, sitting tall despite the bruises, her arms crossed over her chest like armor. Powder curled up beside her on the couch, her knees to her chest, eyes fixed on the floor. Mylo and Claggor sat opposite, not quite meeting anyone’s gaze.

(Y/N) didn’t speak.

She turned and grabbed a stack of clean cloths from the shelf and tossed them- one to Vi, one to Mylo, one to Claggor. Her way of saying Start cleaning yourselves up before I lose it.

Vander’s voice broke the silence, low and grim.

“Everyone all right?”

Mylo huffed, eyes anywhere but on them. “Never better.”

Vander hummed, slow and deliberate. “Good.”

He stepped forward, hands clasped behind his back, his voice cold enough to silence the whole room.

“I don’t suppose you can explain why we’re hearing about an explosion and a foot chase topside. Four children fleeing the scene.”

(Y/N) moved quietly around the room, ignoring the smell, the grime, the tension in the air. She crouched in front of Vi, gently grabbing her chin, tilting her face side to side to check for broken skin or swelling.

“What the hell were you thinking?” she asked, low and sharp, eyes flicking over the bruises on Vi’s cheek.

Vi rolled her eyes and tried to pull back. “That we can handle a real job?”

Vander’s face hardened instantly.

“A real job?”

Vi straightened, her voice quick now. “We got our own tip. Planned a route. Nobody even saw-”

“You blew up a building,” (Y/N) snapped, grabbing her chin again, giving her a warning look that stopped her cold.

Vi tried to deflect. “That wasn’t-”

“Did you even stop to think,” Vander cut in, “what could’ve happened to you? To them?”

He pointed to each of them, one by one, and they all flinched. Even Mylo stopped pretending to act tough. Vi’s bravado shrank a little, and she looked down, finally letting (Y/N) finish checking her over in silence.

When she was done, (Y/N) moved to Powder, brushing dirt from her temple with gentle fingers. The girl hadn’t said a word yet, just sat curled in on herself, her eyes wide and glassy.

Vander exhaled hard, dragging a hand down his face.

“Where did you even get this tip?”

Silence.

(Y/N) shifted to check Claggor’s arm, noting a deep scrape along his bicep.

Still silence.

Then Powder’s voice came, soft and tired.

“…We just heard it at Benzo’s shop.”

Vander’s brow furrowed. “From?”

“…Little Man,” Powder admitted.

(Y/N) froze just slightly- then closed her eyes and let out a breath, pressing a cloth to Claggor’s arm.

Of course it had been Ekko.

Of course.

Vander muttered a curse under his breath, starting to pace again as the room sat heavy in shame.

(Y/N) didn’t yell. Didn’t need to. She just kept working, her voice calm but cold.

“You’re damn lucky you all made it back,” she said, not looking at any of them. “You’re not invincible. And you’re not ready.”

No one argued.

No one could.

And still, in the back of her mind, a sharp pain echoed through her chest-

We were them once.

And look how that turned out.

The silence in the room following Powder’s confession hung thick- too heavy for the small space, for their small shoulders.

Vander exhaled deeply, weariness settling into his spine like weight he hadn’t shaken in years. He turned to Vi, but she was already standing, her chin tilted up defiantly.

“I took us there,” she said, her voice firm and unflinching. “If you’re gonna be mad, be mad at me. But you’re the one who always says we have to earn our place in the world.”

Vander’s jaw clenched, and he huffed. “I also told you time and time again- the Northside’s off-limits.”

(Y/N), still kneeling by Claggor’s side, looked up, her voice cool. “We stay out of Piltover’s business.”

Vi threw up her hands, talking fast and hot now. “Why? They’ve got plenty, while we’re down here scraping together coins. We’re supposed to just be grateful for scraps?”

She turned her glare to Vander, eyes sharp. “When did you get so comfortable living in someone else’s shadow?”

The words cut through the room like broken glass.

Silence fell.

Even Powder looked up at that, her face unreadable. Mylo’s leg bounced, fast and nervous. Claggor stayed still, not meeting anyone’s eyes.

(Y/N) sighed, slow and heavy, and pushed herself to her feet now that she was sure no one was bleeding out or had a concussion.

She looked at all of them- Vi’s glare, Powder’s clenched hands, Mylo’s sullen posture.

“Right,” she said, with finality. “Everyone out. Come on.”

There was no argument.

They stood, shuffling past her in silence. She guided them out of the room, her hand resting briefly on each shoulder as they passed, quiet reassurance even in her exasperation.

She left Mylo and Claggor in the hallway, watching them both closely for any lingering tension.

Then she followed Powder out the bar's back entrance, lighting a cigarette as the younger girl knelt by one of the bins, digging around with practiced ease.

(Y/N) watched her, blowing out smoke slowly- until Powder paused.

Her hand stilled. She reached into her coat pocket and pulled out something small, bright, and unnaturally blue.

A crystal.

It shimmered faintly even in the low light, and for a heartbeat, Powder just stared at it- eyes wide, breath shallow.

(Y/N) raised an eyebrow. “What’s that?”

But Powder flinched, snapping out of it, and shoved the thing deep into her coat like it might vanish if she just willed it hard enough. Then she bolted back inside without a word.

(Y/N) let it go.

For now.

She dropped her cigarette, crushed it under her boot, and followed after her, heart starting to beat a little faster.

Down the hall, just outside the kids’ room, she heard voices again.

Mylo.

“She's a problem.”

Vi’s voice, quiet. “Mylo, I'm really not-”

“Do you remember what was in that bag?” Mylo snapped. “The biggest payout we’ve ever seen. And she lost it.”

(Y/N) froze outside the door, hand hovering near the handle.

Inside, she heard the soft thunk of a ball bouncing against the wall. Mylo caught it. Threw it again.

“She made a mistake,” Vi said defensively.

“Name one time she hasn’t.”

“She’s young.”

“Don’t bullshit me. You were twice the person at half her age.”

A pause.

Then Vi’s voice, lower now. Bitter.

“You know what, Mylo? You’re right. There’s a bunch of things Powder just can’t do.”

Mylo didn’t hesitate. “You don’t have to tell me twice.”

The words hit harder than they realized.

Because Powder had heard them, too.

She ran past (Y/N) in the hallway, wiping at her face, shoulders shaking.

(Y/N) didn’t say anything- she just followed, quick and quiet, until she found her in the kids’ room, curled up in her little makeshift fort. The same one she used to sleep in after Felicia died. Nestled between blankets and pillows and broken bits of inventions, trying to lose herself in something that wasn’t this.

(Y/N) slipped inside the fort without hesitation, kneeling and gathering Powder into her arms like she’d done a hundred times before.

Like a mother.

Because she was, in all the ways that mattered.

She didn’t say anything- just held her, stroking her hair, pressing a soft kiss to her head like Felicia used to do, like (Y/N) had once wished someone had done for her.

Eventually, Powder’s trembling eased, though she still clutched at (Y/N)’s coat like she was afraid to let go.

Then footsteps.

Vi.

She stood awkwardly in the doorway, a small frown plain on her face.

(Y/N) pressed one more kiss to Powder’s head, then slowly stood. She passed Vi on the way out and didn’t say anything- just reached up, brushed a thumb across her cheek, and kissed her forehead gently, too.

Then she left them alone.

Sisters.

To mend it on their own.

She made her way out of the bar, walking through the Lanes. The air outside Benzo’s was thick with tension, the kind that curled around your ribs and didn’t let go.

(Y/N) spotted Ekko leaning against the wall just outside, trying to look casual but clearly on edge. His arms were crossed tight, eyes sharp as they scanned the alley like he was expecting someone to come flying around the corner.

She softened at the sight of him- such a little thing, trying so hard to act grown.

She ruffled his hair as she passed. “Hey, little man.”

He gave a small, tired smile, but didn’t say much- just gave her a subtle nod before returning to his watch.

Inside, Benzo’s place smelled like oil and metal and something acrid in the walls that never quite went away. Vander was already talking when she stepped in- low, angry tones, his back half-turned to the door.

Benzo caught her eye and gave a slight nod. “She’s here.”

Vander turned, and just the look on his face made her stomach drop.

“They’re blaming us,” he said without any preamble. “Grayson- she says Piltover needs someone to hang it on.”

(Y/N)’s jaw clenched. “Of course they do.”

“She said it came from higher up,” Vander went on. “One of the councilors. Said they can’t afford to ignore this. So they want blood. Names.”

Her arms crossed slowly. “Let me guess- they want our kids.”

Vander nodded grimly.

“They want someone to take the fall for the explosion. For the theft. For trespassing topside.”

(Y/N) didn’t speak right away. She just stared at him.

She knew about the deal- Vander had brokered it years ago, when they were still clawing their way out of the ruins of the bridge. Keep the Undercity quiet, and Piltover wouldn’t look too closely. Keep things calm, and they’d stay out of the Lanes.

It had always felt like a fragile truce. Like balancing a knife on glass.

And now… it was breaking.

“They think you’ll hand over the kids,” she said, flatly.

Vander’s eyes burned. “I won’t.”

Benzo didn’t interrupt. He just watched as Vander pulled a small device from his coat- a metal piece that could be sent topside.

Vander nodded toward it. “Grayson gave the signal. She’s waiting for an answer.”

(Y/N) stared at it, then nodded once.

“We tell her no,” she said. “And we watch everything.”

They made their way back to the bar.

The kids had already scattered down into the arcade on (Y/N)’s word- somewhere out of sight, somewhere quiet. Somewhere that used to be theirs when they were younger, running from the world before the weight of it caught up.

Inside The Last Drop, the mood had shifted.

The usual warmth was still there, but the edges were fraying. People were tense. Voices were low. There were more eyes on the door than there were on drinks.

(Y/N) took her spot behind the bar. Vander leaned against the far end, scanning the crowd, quiet.

They didn’t talk much. Just kept their ears open.

Hours passed like that.

And then-

The kids came back.

One by one, they filed in through the side hallway, muddy boots scuffing softly on the wood. They didn’t say anything, didn’t cause a scene. Just… lingered.

Near the back. Close enough to (Y/N) and Vander to be protected, but not so close they’d be noticed.

Smart kids.

They’d learned to move like shadows.

And for now, that was exactly what they needed to be.

The tension in The Last Drop had become thick enough to choke on. Whispers had turned to murmurs. Murmurs into open frustration. And when Sevika stood from her booth, drink in hand, there was no mistaking the shift in the room.

“We should hit them back,” she said, her voice cutting clean through the chatter. “We’ve got the numbers to best them.”

(Y/N), standing behind the bar with her hands gripping a towel a little too tightly, said nothing. But her chest stirred with reluctant agreement.

She knew Sevika was right.

But she also knew what happened the last time they 'had the numbers.'

So she stayed quiet.

Because following Vander’s lead- whether it sat right or not- was the only thing that had kept the Undercity from burning again.

Vander raised his voice calmly but firmly, pushing off from where he leaned.

“You sure that’s what you want?” he asked, stepping forward slowly. “We crossed that bridge before. And we all know how that ended.”

(Y/N) tensed. She didn’t move, didn’t speak- but the weight of his words hit her like a hammer to the ribs.

Felicia’s hands, cold and bloodied in hers.

Connol’s still body on the ground.

The last time she saw Silco.

She said nothing. Just lit a cigarette and looked away.

Someone else, half-drunk and bitter, chimed in from near the door. “You’re just protecting your kids.”

(Y/N)’s eyes snapped over her shoulder- straight to the back corner, where the kids stood, lingering. They’d kept quiet, kept out of sight, but they were still watching.

Still listening.

Vander didn’t rise to the bait. He stepped in calmly, the firm voice of a man who had earned this room.

“I’m protecting our people,” he said. “I’d do the same for any one of you. We look out for each other. That’s the way it’s always been.”

(Y/N) exhaled slowly, smoke curling from her lips.

“This’ll blow over,” she added, tone even. “We just need to stand together.”

Sevika scoffed, ignoring her entirely. Her eyes were locked on Vander.

“The Vander I knew- the one who built the Undercity- he wouldn’t be afraid to fight.”

The bar hushed again.

Vander stepped toward her slowly, unflinching, until they stood toe-to-toe. He stared her down.

“Do I look afraid?”

Without hesitation, Sevika fired back: “No. You look weak.”

Then she let out a sharp whistle.

Her crew stood up in unison- shoulders squared, weapons at their hips- and one by one, they filed out the bar behind her, Sevika last.

(Y/N) didn’t stop them.

Neither did Vander.

Silence returned.

The kids- still watching- retreated down the hallway toward their room. Not a word. Just quiet understanding.

(Y/N) let out a long sigh and lit another cigarette, taking a slow drag as she leaned against the bar.

Then the door opened again.

Three Enforcers entered.

Not the usual grunts. Higher rank. Clean boots. One of them, Marcus, stepped ahead of the others like he already owned the place.

(Y/N) straightened, flicking her ash but saying nothing.

“We’re looking for some kids,” Marcus said, eyes scanning the room.

Vander didn’t miss a beat. “Bar’s full of ‘em,” he replied casually. “Best be specific.”

As the Enforcers started walking, poking through corners and checking under tables, Vander moved behind the bar. He grabbed a bottle, uncorked it, and offered, “How ‘bout a drink, eh?”

As he poured, his fingers dipped under the counter- click. The emergency switch. A signal to the kids below.

Hide. Now.

Then, Marcus dropped a line that made (Y/N)’s head whip around in alarm.

“Ran into an old friend of yours,” he said to Vander. “Had some stories.”

The bar went still.

Marcus stepped forward and took Vander’s pipe right out of his hand, rolling it between his fingers.

(Y/N)’s body tensed. So did half the bar.

Vander gave a subtle shake of his head- don’t.

Marcus smirked. “You weren’t always the peacekeeper, were you?”

Then, without flinching, he dropped the pipe into the liquor glass. It caught fire instantly.

Flames crackled in the silence.

Vander’s jaw flexed, but his voice stayed even.

“Yeah, well… you can’t escape the past, right?”

He lifted his eyes slowly- toward the wall above the bar.

Toward the gauntlets mounted high.

The ones he hadn’t touched since that night.

“Be a shame if I had to put ’em on again,” he said, voice low. “Cast irons… well. They’re hard to clean.”

The fire between them flickered. The room held its breath.

And every single person in The Last Drop remembered exactly who Vander used to be.

The search didn’t last long. The Enforcers poked through the bar, lifting up old crates, checking behind curtains, pulling up floor panels that had already been repaired twice over. (Y/N) didn’t flinch. Neither did Vander.

Eventually, the other two returned to Marcus.

“All clear.”

Marcus rolled his eyes with a scoff, lips curling into something sharp and cruel. Vander raised an eyebrow, half a shrug in response.

But Marcus wasn’t done.

“You people down here are all the same,” he sneered, turning to face the bar. “Mistaking arrogance for bravery. You think you're standing up for something, but we all know there’s a crime behind every coin that passes through this place.”

He turned to face Vander, stepping in closer, voice dropping low enough to be lethal.

“You’re just a small man in a little hole the world forgot to bury.”

And then, just to twist the knife-

Marcus lifted his baton and slammed it down onto the burning glass of liquor, shattering it across the counter. Fire spilled over the wood, licking up the side of a bottle rack.

“And I’m gonna bury the lot of you.”

Then he turned, shoved through the crowd of tense patrons, and left with his officers in tow, boots echoing against the stone.

The door slammed.

Silence followed.

(Y/N) didn’t waste time. She grabbed a nearby cloth, slammed it over the fire, smothering the flames until the last of the smoke curled up and vanished into the ceiling vents.

Vander stood there, unmoving, jaw locked tight, eyes still on the door. That line had cut, but he wasn’t about to show it.

Once they were sure the Enforcers were gone, the two of them quietly made their way down to the kids’ room. The tension clung to their shoulders as they descended the stairs.

The kids were all there, huddled and tense. Powder had her hands fisted into her sleeves, trying not to shake. Claggor sat stiffly, while Mylo bounced his leg, eyes darting to every sound.

(Y/N) glanced around, making sure no one was more hurt than they already were. “Are you all okay..?”

Vi was the first to speak.

“No, we’re not okay. They almost saw Powder.” Her voice cracked, furious and terrified all at once. “What if they took her?”

Vander stepped forward quickly, firm but calm. “No one is taking any of you.”

(Y/N) nodded, kneeling beside them. “We would never let that happen. Not to any of you.”

But Vi wasn’t comforted. She threw her arm out, motioning toward the others, her voice rising.

“It’s already happening! You heard him- he’s not gonna stop. They’re gonna keep coming. So we need to fight back. And if you two won’t-” her eyes flicked between Vander and (Y/N), “-then I will.”

(Y/N)’s chest went tight.

It reminded her too much of another voice, another pair of burning eyes once full of conviction.

Silco.

Vander heard it too.

His voice was quiet, but laced with weight. “I’ve heard this kind of talk before...”

He gave (Y/N) a look- a heavy one- before gently placing a hand on Vi’s shoulder and guiding her toward the exit.

“Come with me.”

(Y/N) didn’t stop him. Just watched as they disappeared up the stairs, Vi’s shoulders squared with defiance, Vander silent and steady at her side.

She stayed behind with the others, crouching down beside Powder and gently wrapping her in her arms, murmuring softly to calm her trembling hands.

The kids needed someone to stay.

And she always would.

She stayed downstairs with the kids for a long while after Vi left with Vander- running a hand through Powder’s hair, checking Claggor’s bruises, pressing a damp cloth to the scrape across Mylo’s temple. No one said much. They didn’t need to. The air was heavy with all that almost happened.

Eventually, Vi returned. Quiet, but calmer. She nodded to (Y/N), the unspoken signal that she was okay now- enough, at least.

(Y/N) gave her a gentle touch on the shoulder, then stood, smoothing her palms against her thighs as she made her way back upstairs.

The bar was quieter now, most of the patrons long gone after the Enforcers had stormed out. Only a few lingered in corners, keeping their voices down, casting side-glances toward the bar where Vander stood alone.

He didn’t look at her as she approached. Just held up a half-crushed pack of cigarettes, and she took one wordlessly.

They lit up together, just like they used to.

Back before everything fell apart.

Before the bridge.

Before Silco disappeared.

Before Felicia and Connol never came home.

She sat beside him, leaning against the counter, breathing in the smoke.

They didn’t say anything for a long moment.

Then Vander spoke, his voice quieter than she’d ever heard it.

“I’m going to turn myself in.”

The words struck like stone in her gut. She stared at him, cigarette paused halfway to her lips.

“If it gets them off the kids- if it keeps them safe- it’s worth it.”

Her chest tightened, and she felt the burn of tears she refused to let fall. Vander didn’t flinch. He just reached over and pulled her into a hug- tight, grounding, familiar.

“Promise me,” he murmured into her hair. “If I’m gone... you’ll look after them.”

“You know I will,” she whispered, voice shaking.

But before she could pull back, before the weight of goodbye could fully land-

Vander exhaled, slow and bitter.

“There’s something else.”

She stilled.

And then he told her.

What happened the night of the bridge.

How he and Silco had fought after the battle.

How Vander had overpowered him. Dragged him to the river. Held him under.

Cut his face.

Watched the man he’d once called brother claw his way from the edge, stealing Vander’s own blade before vanishing into the darkness.

“I thought he was dead,” Vander said, quietly. “For a while, I hoped he was.”

(Y/N) stepped back, her cigarette trembling in her hand.

“You tried to kill him?” Her voice was soft, but full of a furious disbelief. “You let me think he was gone. You watched me mourn him, and you knew.”

“I didn’t know how to tell you.”

Her jaw clenched, eyes burning. “You didn’t even try.”

He saw it then. The look of hate on her face. Like she didn’t recognize him anymore.

And maybe, for the first time in years- she didn’t.

Vander turned away, jaw tight, reaching beneath the bar for the signal Grayson had left. He figured now was as good a time as any.

But then the stairs creaked.

They both turned.

Powder stood there at the base of the stairwell, her eyes red-rimmed and sad, fingers curled into the hem of her oversized sweater.

Vander hesitated. Slowly straightened.

“…Want something to drink?” he asked, reaching for a bottle and grabbing a small glass- something sweet, the same kind of juice Felicia used to like.

She nodded, sliding onto the stool as Vander poured it and gently nudged it her way. “Cheer up, eh?”

But (Y/N) hadn’t taken her eyes off her.

Not until she saw it- nestled against Powder’s side, sticking out of her bag slightly.

The bunny.

Vi’s old stuffed bunny.

The one Felicia had given her. Years ago.

The one Vi hadn’t touched in ages.

Vander saw it too.

His body went rigid.

“…Powder,” he said, carefully. “Where did you get that?”

But she didn’t answer. Just looked down.

Vander reached under the bar for the signal.

His hand patted around.

And his face dropped.

“…It’s gone.”

They moved fast.

The second (Y/N) realized the signal was missing, her cigarette hit the floor, half-smoked and forgotten. She met Vander’s eyes- no words needed- and they were out the door before Powder could even ask what was wrong.

Benzo was just locking up his shop when they caught him.

“We need you,” Vander said sharply, grabbing the old man’s arm.

Benzo didn’t ask why. He saw their faces and followed without hesitation.

They ran through the alleys, cutting corners and weaving past the confused late-night crowd, boots echoing over cobblestone. (Y/N)’s heart pounded, every step fueled by a sick dread deep in her gut.

She’s going to turn herself in.

Vi already sent the signal.

We’re too late.

They reached the safehouse tucked just outside the Lanes, its rusted door creaking slightly under pressure. Vander pushed it open, and there she was.

Vi stood near the center of the room, her hands wringing nervously. She looked surprised when she saw them, her brow furrowing.

“Why are you-”

“We don’t have much time,” Vander cut in, stepping forward, already out of breath.

Vi blinked. “How did you find me?”

But Vander didn’t answer. Instead, he grabbed her by the shoulders, steadying her, grounding them both.

“I’m proud of you,” he said. “We all are. Always have been.”

Vi leaned into his touch, confused, her voice cracking. “I’m sorry, I… I thought this was the only way to protect the others.”

While they spoke, (Y/N) and Benzo had moved toward the front window, keeping low. She whistled sharply when she spotted movement outside- dark figures, uniforms, the glint of polished boots catching the faint streetlight.

Benzo’s head snapped toward Vander. “Vander…”

But he was already moving.

He cupped Vi’s face in his hands, eyes locked with hers.

“You’ve got a good heart,” he murmured. “Don’t ever lose it. No matter how the world tries to break you. You and (Y/N)… protect the family.”

“What are you-?”

Then Vander shoved her.

Quick. Rough. Out of nowhere.

Vi yelped as she stumbled backward- falling into the room behind her. Before she could get up, before she could reach for the edge, Vander slammed the door shut and twisted the lock.

Vi pounded on the wood.

“No- Vander!”

But it was too late.

She was safe.

And they would face what came next without her.

The banging hadn’t stopped since Vander locked the door- Vi’s muffled voice yelling his name, fists slamming against the wood from behind. It was the sound of desperation. Of betrayal. Of family being torn apart.

(Y/N)’s heart clenched with every hit.

Then the door to the safehouse opened.

Grayson entered first, calm and composed as always. Her eyes swept the room- landed on the sound coming from beheinde them- and she sighed softly.

“I’m guessing that’s for me.”

Before Marcus could take a single step forward, (Y/N) moved- planting herself in front of the door, arms crossed, jaw tight.

Marcus scowled and stepped forward anyway, only to find Vander stepping in front of him, blocking his path.

“You gonna let us make the arrest or not?” Marcus snapped, already gripping his baton.

Vander raised a hand, voice steady. “You’ll oblige a doomed man one last smoke…”

Before the sheriff could reply, (Y/N) already had a cigarette in her fingers, flicked it to life with a spark of a lighter, and placed it gently between Vander’s lips. Her hands trembled slightly, but she didn’t pull away.

Even now… even after what he’d confessed…

He was family.

He had always been family.

Vander took a long drag, the smoke curling slowly from his lips as he exhaled, voice low and rough.

“Won’t you?”

But before Marcus could lunge again, Grayson moved- swiftly stepping in, shoving Marcus aside without even blinking.

“I’m not putting you away, Vander,” she said, looking up at him, her voice tired but sincere.

Vander’s lips twitched in something close to a smile. “The council needs its pound of flesh.”

“Without you down here,” she countered, “it all falls apart.”

Vander shook his head, smoke trailing from his mouth as he gestured toward the others. “Benzo and (Y/N) will handle things. Might not have my devilish charm, but they run a tight ship.”

Grayson’s expression darkened, just slightly. “You won’t be coming back. Not for a long time.”

Vander took one last drag of the cigarette before pressing the cherry into the floor and crushing it under his boot.

Then he held out his wrists to Marcus.

“…I know.”

Grayson looked at him one last time. “Why?”

Vander’s eyes didn’t leave hers.

“It’s the only way.”

Marcus stepped forward, grabbing Vander roughly and binding his wrists. Vander didn’t fight it.

(Y/N) stood frozen as they turned to leave, the air thick with something that felt like grief- but not quite.

She looked back- just once- at the door behind her. She could still hear Vi banging, yelling. Her voice muffled by wood and fate.

And then, with a heavy heart, she followed them out.

The night air outside the safehouse was sharp, unnervingly still. (Y/N)'s boots hit the stone with practiced calm, her eyes scanning the shadows, instinct prickling at the back of her neck.

Something felt wrong.

Then- a blur.

Faster than any of them could react.

A sound like a blade slicing through the air.

And in one sickening swoop, Enforcers dropped like puppets with cut strings- blood spraying across the cobblestones. Limbs twisted. Armor crumpled. The sheriff was the last to fall, her body collapsing with a weighty thud, lifeless eyes staring at the stars.

(Y/N) froze. Vander cursed, stepping back instinctively, placing himself between her and the carnage.

Vander muttered, “What the devil…”

Marcus stumbled back, panic on his face, reaching for a weapon he barely knew how to use.

Benzo was quicker. He snatched up a pipe from the blood-slicked ground, holding it steady in both hands, old soldier instincts kicking in. “Stay close,” he muttered to (Y/N), voice taut.

But (Y/N) wasn’t hiding anymore.

The grief. The rage. The betrayal. It had been simmering under her skin for years- and now, with the taste of death in the air and the weight of fate hanging heavy, she let it burn.

Her hands lit with flame.

Her magic surged, raw and electric, glowing through the veins in her fingers like wildfire. Her eyes blazed with power, bright and defiant, reflecting the fire pooling at her fingertips.

No more hiding.

Vander stepped forward slowly- his eyes locked on something just beyond the smoke and ruin.

And then his face fell.

“…No,” he breathed.

(Y/N) turned, eyes narrowing, senses sharp.

And then she saw it too.

A figure stepped forward from the shadows. Cloaked in smoke, half-silhouetted by the flickering light of burning lamplight. His shoulders were broad. His coat was unfamiliar. But one eye- one eye- glowed an unnatural, searing orange, burning like a dying star.

She didn’t recognize him at first.

Not until Benzo let out a hoarse, broken whisper beside her.

“…Silco?”

The name struck her like lightning.

Her flames faltered for the briefest moment.

That thing- that man standing before them, drenched in shadow and ruin- was Silco.

Her Silco.

But something was wrong.

Something had changed.

And whatever had crawled out of the river that night wasn’t the man who had once held her like she was everything in the world.

But it was him.

And her heart cracked open at the sight.

Benzo was the first to move.

He let out a sharp cry, his pipe raised high as he charged forward- anger flashing in his eyes. “You animal!” he shouted. “Go crawl back into whatever hole you came out of!”

The moment cracked.

Out of instinct- old, ingrained instinct- (Y/N) almost stepped in front of Silco.

Her body remembered before. Before the fire, before the hatred, before the bridge.

Before the man she loved had disappeared beneath the surface.

“Benzo, stay back!” Vander yelled, already lunging forward, hand outstretched.

But it was too late.

Silco tilted his head slightly, his eye never leaving (Y/N). His voice came low, almost amused. “You never did know when to walk away… Benzo.”

And then it happened.

A whip of movement- barely visible, a blur of sinew and shadow- and the creature returned.

The same unnatural beast that had slaughtered the Enforcers moved again, and in the span of a breath, Benzo was gone.

His body hit the ground hard, unmoving.

(Y/N) froze.

Her magic flickered.

Her gaze locked on Benzo’s lifeless frame.

A strangled sound escaped Vander’s throat as he fell to his knees. “No!”

He scrambled toward his old friend, grief crashing through him like a wave.

Silco stood over it all, watching.

His voice was quieter now, maybe even tired. “Stubborn till the end…”

Marcus, pale and shaken, stepped forward slowly, breath ragged. “What the hell have you done? This- this wasn’t the deal!”

Silco turned his head toward him, one hand still clasped neatly behind his back. He walked slowly, deliberately, like the world around him hadn’t just shifted on its axis.

“Deal’s changed,” he said calmly, before tossing a pouch of gold at Marcus’s feet.

It hit the ground with a heavy clink, blood flecking the edge.

Marcus stared at it. But said nothing.

(Y/N) hadn’t moved.

She couldn’t.

She couldn’t tear her eyes away from Benzo.

Not until she felt him approaching.

Silco’s footsteps were soft, measured, until he stood in front of her. The creature behind him moved toward Vander- without a word- and slammed its fist into the side of Vander’s head. The crack of impact echoed in the alley as Vander slumped unconscious.

(Y/N) twitched, but didn’t react.

She couldn’t.

The monster picked Vander up like a ragdoll and disappeared into the shadows.

Silco… stayed.

He turned his full attention to her.

And for the first time in nearly a decade, she looked into both of his eyes.

One glowing bright, unnatural orange.

And one still the same soft, piercing blue she remembered falling in love with.

Even now, with everything burning around them, with blood still warm on the ground, with her magic humming violently at her fingertips-

Her heart ached.

Still.

Silco reached up, slowly, fingers brushing her chin.

His touch was gentle. Too gentle.

“Did you know?” he asked, voice low. Measured.

“…D… Did I know?”

“Of what happened between Vander and I.”

She swallowed hard.

“…Not… until today.”

Silco’s face barely moved, but something behind his eyes flickered—pain, maybe. Memory.

“I don’t wish to hurt you,” he said, quietly. “But you have to come with me.”

(Y/N) didn’t know what she was doing when she nodded.

Her thoughts were gone- ripped out like a tide.

All she could feel was the burn in her chest, the roaring silence in her mind.

She nodded again, slower this time.

And Silco, seeing her surrender, nodded in return.

Then, without a word, he reached down, took her hand into his-

And led her away.

Away from the blood.

Away from the flame.

Away from the person she had become in his absence.

Marcus watched them disappear into the shadows.

And said nothing.

Verosika x male!reader dating headcannons please

A/N: Of course, @ultimategraffitiguy! Verosika is one of my favorites :}

Mine, Loud and Clear

Verosika x Male!Reader

Warnings: Sexual themes, Possessiveness/Jealousy, Arguments/Conflict

Word Count: 943

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- Verosika was the one who made the first move: Obviously, she knew what she wanted the second she laid eyes on (Y/N) and didn't waste a second before flirting shamelessly, practically daring him not to fall for her.

- At first, (Y/N) thought he was just another target for her to toy with: But when she started genuinely caring whether he texted her back or if he smiled at her during a date, she realized she was in deeper than she meant to be.

- He surprised her by not being easy to push around: Not hostile, but just solid enough that he didn’t let her walk all over him. That infuriated and attracted her all at once.

- In public, Verosika loves flaunting their relationship: Clinging to his arm, stealing kisses, tracing a claw up his chest with a mischievous smirk while other demons stare. "What? You think I'm gonna hide how hot my man is? Dream on."

- Dates are extravagant if she plans them: Exclusive clubs, private concerts, trips to weird, beautiful corners of Hell- but (Y/N) tends to suggest things like movies, walks through busy streets, or greasy, hole-in-the-wall diners. Somehow, she ends up loving his ideas even more.

- Verosika flirts like breathing: Constantly, effortlessly, shamelessly. She'll whisper dirty things right in (Y/N)'s ear in the middle of a crowded room just to watch him blush and stammer like a fool.

- Her favorite thing? Making him squirm: She’ll drag a finger up his thigh under the table, lean in way too close, brush her fangs against his ear as she pretends to "ask a question"- all while acting totally innocent if anyone notices.

- (Y/N) learned quickly that challenging her only makes her worse: "You’re gonna have to do better than that if you wanna rattle me, babe." Cue Verosika grabbing him by the collar and proving she absolutely can rattle him.

- Possessive as hell… but fun about it: If another demon so much as looks at him the wrong way, she’ll pull him into a kiss so deep and smug it leaves him dizzy. When they pull away, she'll smirk at the onlookers with a "he's mine, back off" kind of look.

- She loves leaving marks: Hickeys low on his neck, nail scratches on his back, lipstick smudges on his mouth- anything to make sure everyone knows who he's with.

- (Y/N) finds out she's extremely physical when she’s really in the mood: grabbing, pinning, climbing into his lap without warning, sitting in his chair and pulling him down into a kiss until he's gasping.

- Dirty talk? Constant. Merciless: "Careful how you look at me, sweetheart... I might have to drag you somewhere private and ruin you." She loves watching his face heat up- it’s almost a game to see how fast she can get him flustered.

- She teases him about his reactions nonstop: "Aww, look at you. All red for me? You're adorable." And if he tries to flip it and tease her? Good luck. Verosika loves a challenge- she'll escalate until he's the one begging for mercy.

- When she’s feeling extra playful, she’ll dress just a little more scandalous if she knows they’re going somewhere public: Tiny skirts, plunging tops, tail flicking at his knees- all so he struggles to keep it together while she acts totally innocent.

- But it’s not just physical: Sometimes, when they're alone and it’s quiet, she’ll crawl into his lap, bury her face against his neck, and mumble soft, sultry promises against his skin. (Y/N) can always tell when it's not just teasing- when it’s real and vulnerable underneath all the heat.

- Verosika loves when he gets bold: If (Y/N) ever turns the tables- like grabbing her waist and pinning her to the wall mid flirt- it drives her crazy. She loves that tiny flash of dominance from him, especially because she knows she’s the only one who gets to see it.

- (Y/N) learned quickly that Verosika is a jealous creature, even if she tries to play it cool: If anyone flirts with him, she immediately stakes her claim- usually with a kiss that leaves him dizzy and the offender looking for the nearest exit.

- But behind closed doors, she softens: She loves sprawling across (Y/N)'s chest after a long day, her wings loosely draped over him, lazily tracing little patterns over his skin with her nails while they talk about absolutely nothing important.

- Verosika secretly treasures the little, normal things he does: Holding the door open for her, tucking her hair behind her ear, bringing her a drink without her asking. She’ll tease him mercilessly about it, but she will have the biggest smile on her face the whole time.

- Whenever she’s stressed or overwhelmed (which happens more than she’ll admit), she finds herself instinctively seeking him out: Even if it's just to sit next to him while she works through her thoughts. He’s one of the only people she trusts enough to see her without all the glamour. No makeup, no elaborate outfits, no show. Just Verosika- tired, gorgeous, and real.

- When they fight (because they do), it's explosive: lots of shouting, dramatic exits, slamming doors- but (Y/N) never lets her go to bed angry. He’ll find a way back to her, even if it’s just leaning against her door and muttering a stubborn, half-sincere "I’m not leaving until you hear me out." - Verosika never thought she'd settle down: She never even amused the idea she would care so much about someone else's happiness, but (Y/N) somehow made it feel easy- normal, even. She still won't admit she's "soft," though. Not yet.

For Danganronpa, how about some Smut Headcanons for Hina, Mahiru, and Kaede helping their Female S/O to squirt for the first time!

A/N: Of course I can! This is my first time doing Headcanon's, though. I hope this is what you wanted :}

Journey into Intimacy pt.1

pt.2

Smut Headcanons for Hina, Mahiru, and Kaede.

18+ MDNI

Warnings: Sexual Content/Intimacy, Light Dom/Sub Dynamics, First times.

Word Count: 2502

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Hina:

HAD TO CUT THIS PART BECAUSE SOMEONE LITERALLY FUCKING THREATEDNED ME!!!

Posted what happened, the link is above, but jfc some people are so mentally unwell. Who ever you are, I seriously hope you get the help you need.

Mahiru:

- The Nervous Anticipation: The air between them is different tonight. It’s not the usual playful flirting or casual kisses; it’s thick with something heavier, unspoken, but deeply understood. (Y/N) is fidgeting, her fingers messing with the hem of her shirt, while Mahiru- normally full of sarcastic remarks- finds herself uncharacteristically quiet. They both know where this is heading, but neither of them really knows how to start.

- Awkward Yet Sweet First Steps: Despite her usual confidence, Mahiru is a nervous wreck inside. She wants everything to be perfect, wants (Y/N) to feel safe and cherished, but holy hell, she’s overthinking every move. Meanwhile, (Y/N)- who has literally never done anything like this before- feels her own heartbeat pounding in her ears. Every touch, every shared glance, feels ten times more intense than usual.

- Soft, Slow Exploration: Mahiru takes the lead, but gently. Her fingers trail over (Y/N)’s arms, her waist, tracing slow patterns on her skin as she watches every little reaction. She kisses her everywhere- her cheeks, her forehead, her jaw- until (Y/N) finally lets out a shaky breath, whispering, “I want you.” That’s all it takes for Mahiru’s heart to damn near explode. 

- Mahiru’s Photographer Instinct Kicks In: As things progress, Mahiru can’t help but admire the absolute beauty of the moment. (Y/N) looks so soft, so vulnerable yet trusting, and fuck, she wants to capture this forever. She resists the urge to grab her camera, but at some point, she whispers about how breathtaking (Y/N) looks. (Y/N), flustered as hell, buries her face in Mahiru’s shoulder. 

- Consent Queens: They check in with each other constantly. “Is this okay?” “Do you like this?” It’s sweet, but at some point, (Y/N) laughs between gasps, saying, “Mahiru, if you ask me one more time, I swear to god.” Mahiru chuckles, finally letting go of her nerves a little, before focusing on making her girlfriend fall apart in the best way possible. 

- Mahiru is a Soft Dom???: Mahiru may be a nervous mess internally, but her natural assertiveness doesn’t just disappear. She instinctively takes charge, not in an overbearing way, but in a way that makes (Y/N) feel completely safe and adored. She’s super praise-heavy, whispering how beautiful (Y/N) is, how perfect she is, how much she loves seeing her like this. (Y/N), in return, melts under her touch. 

- Reaching the Peak: It happens so much faster than (Y/N) expected. She barely has time to process it before her whole body goes taut, her fingers digging into Mahiru’s shoulders as she gasps and trembles. It’s overwhelming, electrifying, and so damn intense, she almost can’t believe it’s real. Her breath catches, her back arches, and she lets out a breathless moan, completely lost in the moment. 

- Mahiru is Absolutely Mesmerized: Watching (Y/N) fall apart like this is the most stunning thing she’s ever seen. She never expected to love this side of her girlfriend so much, but fuck, knowing she’s the first person to ever make (Y/N) feel this way? That’s a feeling she never wants to lose. 

- The Immediate Aftermath: (Y/N) is still trembling, barely able to form words, so Mahiru pulls her close, cradling her against her chest. She whispers sweet nothings, pressing soft kisses against (Y/N)’s forehead, cheeks, lips. “You okay?” she murmurs, even though the answer is painfully obvious from the way (Y/N) is still clutching onto her like a lifeline. 

- Soft Aftercare is a Must: Mahiru takes care of (Y/N) afterward, running fingers through her hair, whispering soft reassurances, making sure she’s comfortable and warm. “Need water?” “Need anything?” (Y/N) pretends to protest being babied but secretly loves it. “Mahiru, you’re acting like I just ran a marathon,” she grumbles, but she’s already nuzzling into her anyway. 

- (Y/N)’s Shy Confession: After a few moments of silence, (Y/N) mumbles into Mahiru’s skin, “That was… the best thing I’ve ever felt.” She sounds so damn embarrassed, but Mahiru just grins, pressing another kiss to her temple. “Yeah?” she teases. “Glad I could be the one to show you.” (Y/N) groans, hiding her burning face in Mahiru’s shoulder. 

- Cuddles and Teasing: They stay wrapped up in each other, letting the moment linger, neither wanting to move. (Y/N), still, coming down from the high, lazily traces circles on Mahiru’s back. Eventually, she mutters, “You’re gonna be so fucking smug about this, aren’t you?” Mahiru grins, kissing her neck. “Oh, absolutely.” 

- Their Love Only Gets Stronger: Exploring each other doesn’t change their relationship- it deepens it. They were already so in love, but now there’s a whole new level of trust and closeness between them. They fall asleep wrapped in each other’s arms.

Kaede:

- High School Sweethearts with a Whole Lot of Love: Kaede and (Y/N) have been dating since high school, and from the very beginning, their relationship has been filled with warmth, laughter, and way too many flustered moments. Kaede is very much a romantic, always doing little things like writing (Y/N) piano pieces, sneaking little notes into her bag, and kissing her nose just to make her blush. (Y/N), on the other hand, acts like the smooth one, but the second Kaede even breathes in her direction with a little more affection than usual, she is absolutely doomed.

- Fleeting touches: Holding Hands? Cute. But Holding Hands Under the Covers? Illegal. Even though they’ve been together for years, they are still flustered idiots when it comes to physical affection. (Y/N) still gets butterflies whenever Kaede casually holds her hand, and Kaede still turns bright red whenever (Y/N) kisses her neck- But the moment they start cuddling under the covers, it suddenly feels ten times more intimate, and neither of them knows what the to do about it.

- The Build-Up to Something More: They’ve been thinking about taking things a step further, but neither of them wants to rush. Kaede, being the overachiever she is, researches the hell out of everything. She wants to make sure that she knows how to make (Y/N) feel good without making her uncomfortable. (Y/N), meanwhile, is excited but also lowkey terrified. She knows she wants this with Kaede, but holy hell, the thought of Kaede actually touching her like that makes her whole brain short-circuit.

- The Night Everything Changes: It starts like any other night- just the two of them in Kaede’s room, soft music playing in the background, and a little bit of cuddling… But this time? There’s a different energy in the air. Kaede gently kisses (Y/N) a little deeper, letting her fingers trail along her waist, and (Y/N) suddenly realizes, ‘Oh, we’re really doing this.’ 

- Kaede Takes the Lead (Even Though She’s Shaking Like a Leaf): At first, Kaede is nervous as hell. She’s always been confident when it comes to playing the piano or performing, but when it comes to intimacy? That’s an entirely new stage, but when she hears the way (Y/N) breathes a little heavier every time she touches her, that nervousness slowly turns into determination. Kaede realizes that she wants to be the one to make (Y/N) feel good, to be the one who helps her experience something new and beautiful.

- (Y/N) Falls Apart Instantly: The second Kaede touches her in just the right way, (Y/N) is done for. She thought she could handle it. She really did. But the way Kaede’s soft, delicate hands explore her body makes her entire soul leave her body. She tries so hard to stay quiet, but Kaede sees right through her. “Don’t hold back,” Kaede whispers against her skin, and (Y/N) immediately melts into the sheets.

- Kaede Learns She Loves Being in Control: As Kaede keeps going, she notices every little detail- the way (Y/N)’s breathing changes, the way she grips onto the sheets, the way she softly gasps her name… Something about it makes Kaede feel so… powerful. For once, she’s not just playing an instrument- she’s playing with (Y/N), and every touch, every movement, is making her girlfriend completely fall apart beneath her.

- The First Time (Y/N) Ever Reaches her High: (Y/N) has never felt anything like this before- the slow build-up, the way her body tightens, the overwhelming pleasure that finally crashes over her like a wave. When it happens, she completely forgets how to function. She’s breathless, shaking, gripping onto Kaede like she’s the only thing keeping her tethered to reality. Kaede doesn’t stop holding her for a single second, kissing her forehead, whispering soft reassurances, and just being the absolute best girlfriend in existence.

- (Y/N) Is a Flustered, Speechless Mess Afterwards: After everything, (Y/N) refuses to look Kaede in the eye. Kaede, being smug as hell, just grins and asks, “Was it good?” (Y/N) groans, hides under the blankets, and refuses to answer… But the way she pulls Kaede close and buries her face in her chest says everything Kaede needs to know.

- Morning After Shenanigans: The next morning, they are both grinning like lovesick idiots… Unfortunately, their friends immediately catch on. Shuichi squints at them over breakfast and asks, “Why are you two acting weird?” Miu, being the gremlin she is, immediately puts two and two together. “OH MY GOD, YOU TWO FINALLY FU-” “MIU, SHUT THE HELL UP!”

- A Whole New Level of Intimacy: Their relationship was always full of love, but after that night? It feels even deeper. Kaede can’t stop smiling whenever she looks at (Y/N), knowing she was her first in such a big way. (Y/N), on the other hand, gets flustered way more easily now, especially whenever Kaede touches her in public. “Oh, so now you’re nervous?” Kaede teases, nudging her. “Shut up,” (Y/N) mutters, hiding her face behind her hands.

- Exploring Even More Together: Now that they’ve taken that first step, they get more and more comfortable exploring each other. Kaede still loves teasing (Y/N) just to watch her reactions, and (Y/N) loves learning what makes Kaede weak in return. They take their time, learning and growing together, never rushing, and always making sure they’re both completely comfortable. Because at the end of the day? It’s not just about physical intimacy. It’s about trust, love, and being completely vulnerable with the person who means the most to them.

A/N: I am trying to work on my multi-part fic's, now that I'm mostly caught up with all my requests. I missed writing for Silcooooooo.

Loyalty Cuts Deepest pt.2

Silco x Fem!Reader

pt.1

Warnings: Violence/Combat, Trauma, Imprisonment/Restraint, Explosions/Fire, and Death

Word Count: 5894

Summary: (Y/N) is led through Silco’s factory- alive with shimmer, but hollow with grief. Silco remains tender, pretending nothing’s changed, even as he parades Vander, weak and broken, as a symbol of failed ideals. When Silco offers Vander shimmer in exchange for loyalty, Vander refuses, desperate to protect the children. In a private chamber, (Y/N) finally breaks, confessing she searched for Silco for years. Their reunion is intimate but laced with sorrow. When Vi and the others storm the factory, everything spirals. Silco unleashes his shimmer-mutated monster, and (Y/N), bound by enchanted chains, is forced to watch the chaos unfold. Powder’s bomb kills Mylo and Claggor, devastating (Y/N), who Silco tries- and fails- to console. Vander ends saving Vi, transformed by shimmer into a final act of defiance. Afterward, (Y/N) and Silco find Powder, shattered. (Y/N) cradles her and later, she claims the name “Jinx,” offering unconditional love. Back at The Last Drop, (Y/N) remains shackled but tenderly cares for Jinx. Silco releases her chains, but (Y/N) doesn’t retaliate. Her only focus is Jinx- her “little firecracker”- the last thing worth protecting.

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The factory loomed like a carcass on the edge of the Undercity- cold, rusted steel and flickering lights illuminating a world that wasn’t quite dead.

It should’ve been abandoned.

It wasn’t.

Inside, the place was alive with movement- gears turning, people working, machines thundering deep within the structure’s bones. And all of it was for him.

Silco.

He kept his hand wrapped gently around (Y/N)’s as he led her forward, step by step, like they were just walking home. Like none of this had changed.

But her eyes were fixed on the floor. On the trail of oil and soot and blood leading them deeper in.

Her mind buzzed like static- empty and deafening at once. Everything she thought she understood had collapsed in a matter of hours. Grief curled around the edges of her thoughts like smoke, choking out the edges of her reality.

Silco’s thumb brushed along the back of her hand, slow and deliberate. The same way he used to, late at night, when they lay in bed and the world was quiet.

It made her heart ache.

How could she still miss it?

How could that part of her still want to melt into his touch, even now?

“This place is a little crude, I’ll admit,” Silco said, his voice low as they crossed a metal walkway above the factory floor. “The base violence necessary for change... but we both know Topside won’t listen to anything else.”

She didn’t respond. Couldn’t.

Nearby, the man- creature- that had dragged Vander through the streets was deteriorating. No longer monstrous. Just sick. Slumped over the rail, vomiting some viscous, purple substance into the depths.

Another man approached, grabbing Vander roughly and throwing him against the side of the walkway with a clang.

(Y/N) flinched slightly, but Silco’s hand tightened gently around hers, guiding her to a stop.

Vander groaned, coughing, blood splattering the steel beneath him.

And for the first time, he looked up.

Straight at her.

Eyes full of pain- not from the injuries. From her.

(Y/N) didn’t return the look.

She was still watching Silco, eyes wide, almost in a trance, like she was trying to match the man before her to the boy she had once loved.

It wasn’t until Vander spoke that she snapped out of it- his voice ragged, cutting through the fog in her head.

“Even with your monsters,” he rasped, “You won’t win a war against Piltover.”

Silco exhaled a low hum. “I don’t have to. I just need to scare them.”

He turned slightly, reaching out to her again- fingers brushing softly behind her ear, tucking a stray strand of hair away like he used to.

“Piltover won’t dare set foot in the Underground again,” he murmured.

The former monster gagged and groaned again, the sludge he threw up hissing against metal.

Vander didn’t spare him a glance.

“You’ll get people killed,” Vander said, his voice heavy with grief and fury. “For what? Pride?”

Silco’s jaw tightened.

“For respect,” he snapped, turning fully now. “Opportunity. Everything they’ve denied us.”

He released (Y/N)’s hand finally and stepped forward, crouching down to Vander’s level. He stared at him like a blade about to be unsheathed.

Vander glared, breath ragged. “You had my respect. The Lanes’ respect. (Y/N)’s.” He nodded toward her. “But that was never enough for you.”

That struck something.

Silco’s calm shattered in an instant as he stood, pacing a step back with fury rising behind his eyes.

“We shared a vision, Vander. All of us.” His voice rose. “A dream of freedom. Not just for the Lanes, but for the entire Underground. United. One people.”

He turned to (Y/N) then- voice softer, filled with weight.

“The nation of Zaun.”

Then back to Vander, venom lacing each word.

“Do you even remember? I trusted you… and you betrayed me.”

(Y/N)’s eyes finally took in all of him- his ruined cheek, his sunken features, the warped skin trailing from his jaw to the edge of his glowing eye.

The scar where the toxic water had seeped into his skin.

The proof of how far he’d been willing to go.

And how much further he’d fallen to crawl back.

Vander’s breath rattled in his chest as he leaned against the steel railing, blood still wet on his lips. The anger in his eyes had softened into something heavier- regret, shame.

“…What I did to you,” he said, voice low, almost too quiet to hear, “I’ve never forgiven myself.”

He looked up at Silco- truly looked at him.

“You were my brother.”

Silco didn’t respond right away. He stared down at him for a long moment before his gaze slid toward (Y/N), and the edges of his expression flickered with something harder to name.

“No,” he murmured. “You still don’t understand.”

He turned to them both now- his voice rising slightly, almost reverent, almost haunted.

“Can you imagine what it’s like… when your blood mixes with the filth? When the river toxins eat through your nerves, strip away everything soft, everything human?”

He stepped closer to Vander again, looming now, his voice low and trembling- not with weakness, but with conviction.

“Oh, I hated you for what you’d done. Every breath I clawed in was filled with hate. But hate burns fast. And when it fades, it leaves room… for understanding.”

His eyes bore into Vander.

“The only way to defeat a superior enemy… is to stop at nothing. To become what they fear.”

He tilted his head.

“I hated you, Vander. But I still respected you. Until you made peace with them. Until you played lapdog to the people who tried to crush us. After everything we suffered.”

Vander’s jaw clenched, but his voice was tired. “I had no choice.”

“Perhaps,” Silco echoed with a hum. “But now… now you do.”

He reached into his coat, retrieving a small vial- glass, delicate, and filled with a swirling, violet liquid that shimmered even in the dim light.

He knelt again, holding it out between them so both Vander and (Y/N) could see.

“Shimmer.” His voice was soft, full of dark promise. “This is power. This is what they fear.”

He glanced up at (Y/N), then down at Vander.

“We can finally realize our dream. Together... Brother.”

Vander looked from the vial… to Silco… and finally up at (Y/N).

She didn’t say a word. She couldn’t. Her heart beat hollow in her chest, her thoughts knotted beyond reason.

Vander’s eyes turned back to Silco.

“Look at what you’ve done,” he whispered. “Benzo. These kids…”

He shook his head slowly. “In fighting Topside… you’d sacrifice everything that we are. It’s not the way. Can’t you see that? If it has to be me, then fine. Kill me. But please… spare the Lanes.”

Silco’s eyes narrowed, sharp and burning.

“You’d die for the cause,” he spat, “but you won’t fight for one?”

Vander gave a breathy laugh, shaking his head. “I’m just… not that man anymore.”

Silco’s lips curled- not in amusement, but disappointment.

“I’ll show you what you really are,” he muttered.

Then, without another glance at his old friend, he turned and walked toward (Y/N) again.

Her breath caught when he reached for her. He took her hand gently- fingers warm, familiar, haunting... And like something out of a long-forgotten dream, he laced his fingers through hers and led her away down the walkway.

Past the shimmer.

Past the scars.

The room they entered was dim, lit only by flickering industrial lights high in the rafters, casting long shadows against the grimy walls. Vander grunted, still dazed but regaining strength, just in time to be dragged inside by two of Silco’s men. He struggled weakly, but they forced him into a heavy chair bolted to the floor.

Without a word, the men bound his wrists to the armrests with reinforced chains- tight, unforgiving.

(Y/N) watched it all.

She didn’t move.

She just… watched, her heart twisted in knots, as Vander met her gaze with something between understanding and heartbreak. She gave him one last lingering look- long, pained- but didn’t pull away when Silco’s hand gently guided her from the room.

He led her up a flight of grated stairs, each step echoing with the weight of history between them.

At the top of the factory was a room- an old office overlooking the chaos below. Large, reinforced windows gave a full view of the operation, of Vander strapped below, of the quiet power Silco now commanded.

Inside, it was just the two of them.

(Y/N) stood awkwardly at first, eyes scanning the space like she might find an anchor.

She didn’t.

Silco motioned to one of the chairs before his desk. “Sit.”

She did.

He pulled the other chair closer, sitting directly in front of her, his eyes searching her face. He didn’t speak. Not yet. Not while the silence still held its weight.

They sat like that for a while- just breathing, listening to the distant hum of machinery, the ghost of bloodshed still heavy on both of them.

Then (Y/N) spoke.

Her voice cracked.

“I… I looked for you…”

Silco’s jaw twitched.

“For years, I looked,” she whispered, broken and small. “I searched every body on the bridge. Dug through rumors. Lies. Begged for information… anything that would lead me to you.”

She inhaled sharply, her hands shaking.

And then- gently- she reached forward, taking his hand into hers, lifting it slowly, reverently, pressing his palm to her cheek.

As soon as she felt his skin on hers, she nearly sobbed.

Her breath hitched, her face crumpling with the weight of every year she’d spent missing him. She hadn’t let anyone this close since he vanished. Hadn’t let herself feel this deeply. Not with Vander. Not with anyone. Only the children had been allowed into that tender part of her.

But this- this was different.

This was him.

And she’d missed him so much.

Silco stood slowly.

Then, wordlessly, he reached for her- his touch uncharacteristically gentle as he pulled her to her feet, even as she trembled beneath his hands.

She nearly collapsed into him.

But he caught her.

His arms wrapped tight around her small frame, pulling her flush to his chest as she nuzzled into the crook of his neck, her sobs muffled against his collar. She breathed him in like she was afraid it might be the last time.

He still smelled like he always had- warm, sharp, a little like smoke... But now there was something else. Something chemical. Acrid. Lingering under the surface.

It clung to his coat, to his skin.

Shimmer.

She didn’t ask. Not yet. She just held him tighter, her fingers curling into the back of his coat... And Silco closed his eyes.

For the first time in years…

He held her like he’d never let go.

Silco held her until the shaking dulled, until the sobs faded into shallow, trembling breaths. He cupped her face afterward, thumbs brushing away the tears left behind on her cheeks, movements tender in a way that almost didn’t fit the man he'd become.

But then his gaze drifted past her- eyes narrowing toward the window that overlooked the catwalk.

He stilled.

(Y/N) turned, heart clenching.

Outside, darting shapes blurred through the shadows.

Mylo… Claggor. Vi.

Her heart dropped.

She spun back to Silco, panic in her eyes. “Sil- Silco, please- don’t hurt them. Please, don’t kill them. I- They’re just kids. I raised them. I love them. I-”

He leaned down, his hand slipping behind her neck. His lips pressed softly to her forehead.

“Calm down…” he murmured. “I can’t promise anything… I think you’ve figured that out by now.”

Her heart cracked again.

“But,” he added, gently taking her hand, “I will do all I can… Just for you.”

Her breath hitched- part fear, part relief, part dread.

He led her from the office, down toward the walkways that twisted like veins through the heart of the factory. His hand never left hers.

A whistle cut through the air behind them.

Footsteps answered.

Sevika fell in beside them, lifting an eyebrow at the sight of (Y/N) before letting out a sharp sigh and shaking her head.

“Of course,” she muttered.

Another man appeared, stepping forward.

He held chains.

(Y/N)’s stomach turned cold.

She pulled her hand from Silco’s, taking a step back- heart hammering.

Silco’s hand caught her chin gently, tilting her face toward him. His expression was unreadable.

“I have to take precautions,” he said softly. “You understand, don’t you?”

She didn’t have time to answer.

The man with the chains moved in quickly, wrapping them around her wrists and upper arms. As soon as the metal touched her skin, she felt it- pain, sudden and sharp, as the runes engraved in the chain flared to life, cutting off her magic.

Her breath stuttered. Her knees buckled slightly.

He made these… for her.

The realization made her blood run cold.

She struggled on instinct, fire rising in her throat- but Sevika grabbed her from behind, locking an arm around her shoulders to drag her forward.

Silco walked ahead of them all, his voice smooth as he approached the group below.

“Welcome.”

The children turned sharply.

Mylo tensed. Claggor instinctively stepped in front of Powder. Vi’s fists clenched at her sides.

And then they saw her.

Sevika dragged (Y/N) into the open, the chains glowing faintly against her skin.

Their eyes locked with hers.

And (Y/N)’s heart shattered.

Fear. Sadness. Betrayal.

Vi’s voice broke through the silence, small and shaking.

“M-Mom…?”

(Y/N) choked on the lump in her throat, pulling against the chains- only to cry out softly when the runes sparked again.

“I’m okay…” she managed, voice soft and shaking. “Focus on them, alright? Focus on each other.”

She tried to smile, tried to soothe them like she always did.

But her hands were bound. Her power was locked down. And she was being dragged by the man she’d once loved more than anything in the world.

Silco stopped beside her, reaching out to brush her hair back with a tenderness that made her flinch.

“Have you heard the rumor?” he asked the kids, voice light, casual- cruel.

“Vander the coward fled town, left his children behind…”

He paused, eyes glittering with venom.

“…And he was never seen again.”

(Y/N) sucked in a sharp breath, biting her lip to keep from sobbing.

And Vi- her face slowly twisted from fear into rage.

But (Y/N)… she could barely look at them.

Not like this.

Vi didn’t hesitate.

The second she saw (Y/N) like that- bound, chained, magic suppressed- something in her snapped.

“Claggor,” she barked, voice firm. “Find another way out of here.”

Claggor gave a quick nod, already moving, slipping back into the room Vander was in to search for an exit route.

Vander, still slumped in his restraints, his voice raw with emotion, rasped, “You don’t have to do this-”

“Yes, I do,” Vi cut him off, tone solid. Final.

And then one of Silco’s men stepped forward.

A mountain of a man. Thick arms, heavy boots, a massive knife in hand.

The second he approached Vi, (Y/N) instinctively lunged forward- pure panic in her eyes. “No!” she screamed, heart thundering as she tried to reach Vi, tried to protect her babies.

Sevika’s grip tightened around her waist, holding her firm.

(Y/N) fought against the chains anyway, gritting her teeth through the pain, trying to claw her way free.

“Let me go!”

But Sevika didn’t budge.

Vander’s voice broke, more desperate now. “Vi!”

The girl stood tall, squared her shoulders, clenched her fists.

And met the man head-on.

She glanced once- only once- back at Silco, then dropped into a fighting stance, steady and sure.

The man lunged.

He brought the knife down hard, but Vi lifted her arms- Vander’s gauntlets catching the blade with a clang that rang through the entire factory.

The force vibrated down her arms- but she held firm.

Then she struck.

One brutal, upward punch.

Crack.

The man’s head snapped back, blood flying from his mouth along with a tooth. His body flew backwards, crashing to the walkway with a heavy thud.

Out cold.

Silco’s eyes widened just slightly. Not fear. Not quite. But... surprise. He said nothing- just lifted a hand and gave a sharp signal.

Sevika responded immediately, yanking (Y/N) back by the chains, dragging her a step away as more of Silco’s men stepped forward.

(Y/N)’s eyes never left Vi.

Even as she was pulled back, she watched her girl fight.

One after another, they came.

And one by one, Vi dropped them.

A punch to the gut. A backhanded swing to the jaw. A full-force slam that sent one man tumbling off the side of the catwalk, screaming as he fell.

If the situation weren’t so dire, (Y/N) would’ve been bursting with pride.

Even through the fear, through the chains biting into her skin, she felt it rise like warmth in her chest.

Her baby girl was holding her own.

Then… only Sevika remained.

She stepped forward, cracking her knuckles, clearly ready to jump in.

But Silco raised his hand- calm, measured.

“Hold.”

Sevika paused, eyes narrowing. But she obeyed.

Still gripping (Y/N) tightly, keeping her locked in place, but she didn’t move to fight.

Silco stepped forward slowly, watching Vi with a calculating eye.

This wasn’t over.

Not yet.

Silco’s expression was unreadable as his eyes shifted toward the sickly man lingering nearby- the one who had once torn through Enforcers like paper, and now barely looked human at all. Gaunt, twitching, with veins of violet threading beneath his skin.

“Ready to rise to the surface?” Silco asked, his voice deceptively soft.

The man’s eyes flicked to the small, glowing vial in Silco’s hand- a pulsing purple liquid that shimmered with unnatural energy. His gaze grew desperate, wild. He snatched it the second it was offered, uncorking it and downing the contents like it was the only thing keeping him alive.

And then- he screamed.

The transformation was immediate, violent. His spine arched, bones cracking, limbs lengthening, skin distorting. Purple fluid spilled from the corners of his mouth as his body twisted into something monstrous. The shriek that followed rattled the steel beams of the factory.

(Y/N)’s blood ran cold.

“No- no!” she shouted, yanking against the chains as hard as she could. Sevika held her firm, but her grip trembled slightly under the struggle. “Silco!”

Vi didn’t hesitate- she lunged in to strike the creature before it fully stabilized, gauntlets swinging.

But the monster was faster.

It caught her by the throat, lifting her effortlessly off the ground.

“No!” (Y/N) thrashed harder, desperation clawing through her throat. She looked at Silco, eyes wild. “You said you wouldn’t kill them!”

Silco’s jaw clenched. His face flickered with something- guilt, maybe. Regret.

“I said I’d try,” he said quietly.

It wasn’t enough.

Vander roared over the chaos, his voice raw. “Silco! Let her go! This is between you and me!”

Silco’s eyes darkened. His voice was flat- cold. “You had your chance.”

And the monster threw Vi.

She crashed hard into a nearby wall, grunting as she slid across the floor. One of the gauntlets skidded free, clattering loudly across the steel.

(Y/N)’s scream cracked out of her, her knees buckling as she fought harder.

Vi coughed, gasping, barely able to pull herself up. The monster advanced, step by heavy step, dripping shimmer and fury with every movement.

She crawled.

Clawed toward the others.

(Y/N), Vander, Mylo, and Claggor all shouted her name, voices overlapping in a desperate crescendo.

And then- Vi reached the door. With a trembling hand, she slammed it shut- and locked it. The bolt echoed like thunder.

The monster crashed into the other side, but the door held.

Inside, silence reigned for a moment. A breath of reprieve. Of safety.

(Y/N) collapsed to her knees in Sevika’s grip, a sob tearing loose from her throat.

Vi was safe.

For now.

Tears ran down her cheeks as she whispered, “Thank the Gods…”

But her eyes never left Silco.

And her heart had never hurt more.

The creature outside the sealed door snarled and slammed its fists against the metal, again and again. The walkway shook with the force of it, rattling bolts and echoing through the factory like thunder.

Sevika kept her grip on (Y/N), who was breathing hard, her cheeks damp with tears, her arms still trembling from the aftermath.

Silco stood nearby, unmoving- expression unreadable, eyes fixed on the blocked doorway.

(Y/N)’s voice cracked through the din, soft, pleading. “Please… Please, Silco… don’t do this…”

She turned her face toward him, eyes wide, broken. “Let the kids go. Please.”

There was a silence between them.

And then he looked at her.

His gaze softened- just slightly- as he sighed quietly.

“…Fine,” he said after a pause. “Once we get them all gathered again, I’ll let the children go.” His tone stayed firm. “But only the children.”

(Y/N)’s breath hitched, her body sagging in Sevika’s arms as if the tension had suddenly drained all at once. A strangled sob slipped past her lips.

And then- click.

A small sound. Metal ticking softly against the walkway.

(Y/N)’s eyes widened in an instant. “What..?”

Her gaze darted toward the source- a monkey. Small, mechanical, familiar. It shuffled forward, toy-like limbs moving with mechanical innocence.

She recognized it immediately.

Powder’s.

The monkey sat still for a beat, and then-

BOOM.

The explosion ripped through the walkway in a blinding blast of heat and sound.

Silco lunged, pulling (Y/N) into his arms and wrapping himself tightly around her, shielding her body with his own. Sevika threw herself in front of them both- arms outstretched.

The force hit them like a wave.

Smoke. Shrapnel. Flames.

When (Y/N) came to, her ears were ringing. Her limbs heavy.

She blinked hard, vision swimming- and realized Silco was still holding her, arms wrapped tight. Sevika lay sprawled across the walkway ahead of them, unmoving.

Her left arm… was gone.

(Y/N) cried out in horror and pushed away from Silco, slipping from his grip. The chains slowed her, made her stumble, but she didn’t stop.

She crawled, dragging herself across the scorched walkway toward the room where the kids had been.

“No, no, no-” she whispered over and over.

The devastation was unreal.

Pieces of the railing hung loose, sparks flying from destroyed panels.

And in the back of the room-

Claggor.

Still. Lifeless.

Mylo- bloodied, crushed under debris, unmoving.

She fell to her knees in the middle of the walkway, her hands bound, unable to even hold them. She just stared through fresh, silent tears, sobbing until her voice cracked.

Behind her, Silco slowly emerged from the smoke. He stepped around Sevika’s body- limping slightly- and moved to (Y/N)’s side.

He knelt, wordless, placing a hesitant hand on her shoulder.

She shrugged it off.

He didn’t try again.

But when her body gave out, she collapsed against him anyway, no fight left in her. Her sobs echoed against the steel.

From inside the room, Violet’s screams and cires rang out. High, panicked, broken.

(Y/N) closed her eyes and shook her head, lips trembling. “It wasn’t supposed to be like this.”

Then-

Movement.

Vander stumbled from the room, face battered, holding onto the wall for balance. His eyes flicked from (Y/N) to the remaining men around them- and the monster, who was still alive, still looming.

He roared and charged.

Fists flew.

He threw punches with the strength of desperation, slamming into the beast again and again. The creature responded in kind, and the two clashed like titans- blows echoing through the factory.

Then-

The creature landed a blow, sending Vander crashing down onto the walkway.

He groaned, tried to stand-

And from beside (Y/N), Silco rose to his feet. Slowly... Deliberately.

(Y/N) watched, dazed. She didn’t move. Didn’t speak.

Just watched.

Silco stepped up behind Vander- silent as a shadow.

And then… The blade.

In the back.

Vander choked, his body jerking forward. He turned, gasping, and grabbed Silco by the throat.

Silco- eyes fierce, lips curled into something almost mournful- stabbed him again.

Lower.

Vander’s grip weakened. He sagged forward, collapsing against Silco’s chest. The two of them locked eyes, breath labored and pained.

“…I knew you still had it in you,” Silco whispered.

And then he shoved him.

Vander’s body tumbled over the edge- into the boxes of shimmer bwloe, where spilled chemicals, shattered shimmer vials, and fire burned like hell itself.

Everything went quiet.

Except for (Y/N)’s trembling breath, and the sound of Vi sobbing somewhere in the dark.

Silco's steps were measured, calm despite the blood on his hands and the tremor still rolling through the floor beneath them. He approached the shimmer-mutated creature with purpose, voice sharp but steady.

“...Find the girl.”

The monster obeyed, stomping toward the ruined room. Its heavy limbs dragged it forward into the wreckage-strewn room where Violet had been trapped with Mylo and Claggor's fallen bodies.

Vi panicked as the creature loomed over her, its breath huffing like steam, arms rising to grab her-

BOOM.

A massive crashing sound rang through the factory, making the entire structure lurch violently.

(Y/N) stumbled.

The walkway groaned beneath their feet.

And then- a low growl.

Primal. Familiar.

Silco stepped in front of (Y/N) instantly, his arm thrown out to shield her, body still tense from the last fight.

Another figure emerged through the smoke and shadow.

Twisted. Unnatural.

A different kind of monster.

It grabbed Silco’s beast by the throat before anyone could react- crushing, choking- and with a violent twist, snapped its neck like it was nothing more than paper. The limp body was thrown aside, crashing into a wall and slumping into the rubble.

Silco’s jaw tensed as his eyes widened.

He stepped forward and forced (Y/N) up, gripping her arm, steadying her.

She didn’t speak- didn’t move beyond what he guided.

Her eyes were locked on the new creature.

Its eyes met hers- burning, tinged with shimmer.

“...Vander,” she whispered, barely audible.

He had survived.

He had used the shimmer.

And he had changed.

Silco realized it too, the horror evident in the way he slowly stepped back, pulling (Y/N) with him, his body subtly shifting into defense again. Vander snarled- deep and guttural- his distorted voice still capable of forming one clear word:

“Silco.”

(Y/N) tensed as Silco’s grip tightened around her hand.

The building shuddered again- more violently now. Pipes groaned, embers danced across the floor. The fire had spread.

Vander’s monstrous form looked between Silco and the collapsed room behind him- where Violet’s sobs could still faintly be heard.

And then, with a roar, he turned and ran, barreling back through the corridor.

(Y/N) and Silco watched as he scooped up Violet and charged through the broken wall just as the room collapsed around them. The building behind them erupted into flame, collapsing in on itself as embers roared toward the sky.

They stood in silence.

Silco gently tugged (Y/N) forward, guiding her out of the ruin. She didn’t resist, her legs moving on instinct alone. Her face was hollow, her eyes empty. The world around her felt far away.

But she heard it.

Faint, echoing through the smoke:

Vi's screams.

Powder’s cries.

They walked until the sounds grew louder- closer.

Then, voices. Muffled at first.

Powder’s, frantic. “Violet?! Please! Come back! Vi!”

That- that- snapped something in (Y/N).

She yanked free of Silco’s grip, her chains rattling as she stumbled forward.

“Powder!” she gasped.

She ran, her feet carrying her through the scorched earth, eyes scanning desperately- until she saw her.

Powder.

Kneeling in the ash. Shoulders shaking. Her arms wrapped tightly around herself.

“Vi!” she sobbed. “She left me! I didn’t mean to- I didn’t mean to-!”

(Y/N) froze a few steps away.

Her heart shattered all over again.

Powder was curled up so small, so broken.

Tears spilled from (Y/N)’s eyes as she slowly stepped closer.

Powder looked up.

And launched into her.

“Mama-!”

(Y/N) caught her instinctively, knees hitting the ground as she wrapped her arms around the girl- holding her so tightly, like she could piece her back together if she just held on hard enough.

Silco reached them seconds later, catching both of them as they toppled into his legs. He knelt behind them, arms wrapping around them both- sheltering them from what little of the world was left.

(Y/N) glanced around, confused, still dazed and trying to keep her sobbing to a minimum. “Where… Where did Vi go..?”

Powder cried into (Y/N)’s shoulder. “She left me. She’s… Not my sister anymore…”

(Y/N) stroked her hair, sobbing silently, her throat too raw for words.

Silco’s voice was low, gentle- soothing in a way she hadn’t heard in years.

“It’s okay…” he whispered. “We’ll show them.”

His hand brushed through Powder’s hair… then over (Y/N)’s.

“We’ll show them all.”

And in that hollow quiet, surrounded by ash and ruin, (Y/N) clung to Powder.

And Silco clung to them both.

And for better or worse…

This was what remained.

The chains still bound her wrists, biting into her skin, heavy with runes that pulsed faintly against her magic. But (Y/N) didn't care. She held onto Powder as best she could, arms wrapped tight despite the limits, despite the pain. The girl was clinging just as hard- shaking, sobbing, burying her face into (Y/N)’s neck.

They stayed like that for a long while. Just breathing. Just surviving.

Eventually, Silco shifted beside them, his voice low, yet steady.

“Come on,” he said, gently.

He reached down, wrapping an arm around (Y/N)’s shoulders to help her rise. She trembled as she stood, her limbs aching, the chains dragging against her legs. Powder still clung to her, and with no small effort, (Y/N) shifted the girl up into her arms.

It hurt. It was heavy. Her body screamed in protest.

But she carried her anyway.

Silco kept close at her side, his hand never leaving her back as he slowly led them out of the ruins.

Behind them, a few of his surviving men regrouped near what was left of the factory. The fire still burned high in the distance, lighting the skyline like a grim beacon.

Silco glanced over his shoulder, voice firm as he spoke to them.

“Gather everything that’s left. Anything not lost in the blast- documents, weapons, shimmer... all of it.” His eyes narrowed slightly. “We’re done here. We take the bar now.”

There was no discussion.

The men moved quickly.

And Silco turned back to (Y/N), his voice quieter now, meant only for her and Jinx.

“We’ll start again,” he said, more to himself than anyone. “From the ashes.”

As the three of them walked off into the night- (Y/N) carrying Powder, Silco walking protectively at their side- the echoes of everything they’d lost still clung to their heels.

One they got to The Last Drop, Powder sat small and trembling on the bar, legs drawn up, ash smudged across her cheeks and under her eyes like a warpaint she never asked for. (Y/N) moved on instinct- her hands steady despite the shaking in her bones. She soaked the cloth in warm water and gently wiped away the soot, the blood, the smoke. Each stroke soft and methodical.

“There we go, Powpow…” she whispered, voice quiet, mother-soft. “I’ve got you.”

Powder flinched at the name, her lip wobbling. “Jinx…”

(Y/N)’s hands froze, just for a moment.

Powder didn’t look up. Her voice cracked as she repeated it. “I’m a jinx… That’s what I should be called…”

(Y/N) didn’t argue. Didn’t correct her. She just resumed cleaning, her touch never wavering.

“…Okay…” she said softly. “Either way... I’ve got you...”

From the far side of the bar, Silco watched. Silent. Still.

His eyes tracked the chains at (Y/N)’s wrists- the way they pulled at her skin every time she moved to tend to Powder.

He stepped forward slowly, fingers brushing the edge of a small brass key in his coat pocket. When he spoke, his voice was cautious. Careful.

“(Y/N)…?”

She glanced over her shoulder, eyes sharp and cold beneath her exhaustion. She looked like she hadn’t fully come down from the chaos. Like a thread pulled too tight.

Silco held up the key.

“Can I trust you still?”

She scoffed, the sound dry, brittle. “I think that’s my question, Silco.”

He let out a quiet hum. Not a laugh. Not quite.

“I suppose it is.”

He walked closer, holding the key between two fingers. “This is for your chains. If I know you won’t turn on me… I’ll undo them.”

Powder’s- no, Jinx’s- eyes widened as she noticed the chains for the first time. “You’re- You’re chained-?” she gasped, reaching for (Y/N)’s wrists.

(Y/N) didn’t look away from Silco, but her expression softened as Powder pleaded, “L-Let her go… please?”

Silco didn’t move yet.

(Y/N) took a deep breath.

“I won’t attack you,” she said finally, her voice low, calm, resolute. “If that’s what you’re asking.” Her jaw clenched. “Undo them.”

Silco studied her for a moment longer- long enough for the weight of the moment to settle between them.

Then, slowly, he stepped forward… and slid the key into the lock.

The moment the chains hit the floor with a clatter, the magic surged.

Golden marks bloomed like ink across (Y/N)’s skin, glowing softly as they curled up her arms, pulsing with life and power that had been kept caged for far too long. Her eyes lit with the same glow- bright, wild, beautiful- before it all flickered, then faded, like the last flare of a dying star.

She didn’t flinch.

Didn’t revel in the return of her freedom.

She just exhaled quietly… and turned right back to Jinx.

There was no rage. No revenge. Just… care.

She dipped the cloth again, gently cleaning around the girl’s forehead where soot clung to her hairline. Her voice was soft, steady again.

“Almost done, sweetheart…”

Jinx stayed quiet, sniffling now and again, her fingers gripping the edge of the bar tightly.

Silco didn’t speak. He simply watched her- this girl who once burned like fire, now bent over the broken remnants of a child she swore to protect. There was something reverent in the way he looked at her, something unreadable in the way his fingers twitched at his side but never reached out.

(Y/N) gave no further reaction to her magic’s return.

No questions.

No celebration.

She just tucked a lock of Jinx’s hair behind her ear and whispered, “There we go, little firecracker…”

Because for now, she’d take care of her.

And she’d call her by something warm.

Something safe.

Until the world made room for her again.

ׄ 𓈒 ❤︎ 𓈒 ׄ ~~ Masterlist ~~ ׄ 𓈒 ❤︎ 𓈒 ׄ

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Requests are open! ( ˶ˆ꒳ˆ˵ )

Feel free to use my ask box to request anything, within reason. I am open to adding more fandoms to my list, but only if I've interacted with them, and know the lore of what I am writing is. I am also willing to add more things to the list of stuff I'm willing to write, depending on what is requested. I do not do Art requests, but I am thinking about doing commissions, eventually.

Art posts! ٩(ˊᗜˋ )و

-Older pieces

-Mostly unfinished pieces

-Profile pic redraw

Things I will write ₍ᐢ. .ᐢ₎

One shots

Fluff

Angst

Smut (assume characters involved in mature content are of age, obviously. Also, I don't normally just do smut for smut, I have to have some sort of plot device to keep the story moving.)

Full works

Headcannons

Multi-parts

Things I wont write (·•᷄‎ࡇ•᷅ )

Any type of noncon

Incest

Anything mature involving anyone Underage

Literally anything involving the character Aoi Asahina. (I was threatened, and I do not wish to deal with that shit, at all. Any and all characters I think will put me in danger, expect them to be put on this list.)

Finished Fic's ꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱

-Ember in the Dark: Young!Silco x Fem!Reader (Full Work)

Oneshots ◝(ᵔᗜᵔ)◜

-Locked Tight: Yasuhiro Hagakure feat. Kiyotata Ishamaru (Smut) (Requested)

-Trust Fall Trauma: Sinner!Amity Blight x Hazbin Hotel. (Requested)

Part.1

Part.2

-Hellbound: The Owl House x Hazbin Hotel AU (Requested)

-Where the Hurt Doesn’t Reach: Multifandom x Reader (Requested)

Part.1 (Peko, Mikan, and Tenko x Male!Reader)

Part.2 (Sayaka, Celestia, and Sonia x Male!Reader)

Part.3 (Charlie, Emily, and Verosika x Male!Reader)

Part.4 (Mahiru, Toko/Genocide Jack, and Maki x Female!Reader)

Part.5 (Kyoko, Kaede, and Miu x Male!Reader)

Part.6 (Chiaki, Akane and Junko x Male!Reader)

-Terrible Prank- Better Apology: Demon Slayer x Fem!Reader (Requested)

Part.1 (Tanjiro, Inosuke, Zenitsu, Nezuko, and Genya)

-Ashes of Grace: Sera x Overlord!Male!Reader (Requested)

-Stronger than Chains: Mondo Owada (Requested)

-You Can Be Weak With Me: Inosuke x GN!Reader (Requested)

-Feral Loyalty: Verosika x Fem!Reader (Requested)

Headcanons ＼(^o^)／

-Journey into Intimacy: First time Danganronpa Headcanons (Smut) (Requested)

Part.1 (Mahiru and Kaede)

Part.2 (Kyoko, Celeste, and Toko/Genocide Jack)

-The Softest Spotlight: Sayaka x GN!Reader Fluff Headcannons

-A Little Too Close: Shuichi x GN!Reader Headcannons (Reqested)

-Carnival Hearts: Demon Slayer x Fem!Black!Reader Headcannons (Reqested)

Part.1 (Tanjiro, Inosuke, Zenitsu, Nezuko, and Genya)

-All of Me, All of You: Demon Slayer x GN!Black!Reader

Part.1 (Tanjiro, Inosuke, Zenitsu, Nezuko, and Genya)

-Mine, Loud and Clear: Verosika x Male!Reader (Requested)

-Melt for Me: Sub!Makoto Naegi x Male!Reader (Smut) (Requested)

-Soft Places to Fall: Genya x GN!Reader (Requested)

-Raised by the End of the World: Older-Sister!Reader x The Walking Dead (Requested)

Full works ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა

-Ember in the Dark: Young!Silco x Fem!Reader

Part.1

Part.2

Part.3

Part.4

Part.5

Part.6

Part.7

Part.8

Part. 9

Part.10

Part.11 (Last Part)

-Loyalty Cuts Deepest: Silco x Fem!Reader

Part.1

Part.2

-Drifting Between Worlds: Hunter x Fem!Reader (Requested)

Part.1

Part.2

Different Fandoms I am willing to write for! ♡꒰ᵕ༚ᵕ⑅꒱

Arcane

Attack on Titan

Avatar the Last Air Bender

Adventure Time

Black Butler

Baldur's Gate 3

Creepypasta

DC universe

Death Note

Danganronpa

Detroit: Become Human

Demon Slayer

Hazbin Hotel

Helluva Boss

Homestuck

Marvel

My Hero Acedemia

Naruto

Peaky Blinders

Red Dead Redemption 2

Supernatural

Stranger Things

Sally Face

Soul Eater

Steven Universe

The Owl House

The Walking Dead

The Last of Us

Undertale

different anon but can you do another part to "where the hurt doesn't reach" but with a female reader? And with Mahiru, Toko and Maki?

Lmao just realised whilst writing that's one girl from each main game

A/N: Of course :} We love some wlw. Just so its made known, though, any time I write for Toko, I am going to add Jack into it as well. Just because there isn't exactly one without the other.

Where the Hurt Doesn’t Reach pt.4

pt.3 - pt.5

pt.1

Mahiru, Toko (Plus Genocide Jack), and Maki x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Themes of Trauma/Abuse, Mentions of Assault/Threats, Mental Health Topics, Sensitive Touch & Boundaries, Self-Harm, Social Anxiety /Avoidance, Mentions of Nightmares/Sleep Issues

Word Count: 3849

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

Mahiru:

The afternoon light poured softly through the old windows of Hope’s Peak’s photography studio, painting the floor in golden strips. Dust hung suspended in the beams, undisturbed until Mahiru Koizumi walked through them, camera slung over her shoulder, her gaze sharp but kind.

She hadn’t expected anyone to be here. The studio was usually empty this time of day- most students preferring the courtyard or their dorms. But as she stepped inside, her eyes caught the figure curled in the corner.

(Y/N) sat on the floor, knees drawn up to her chest, arms wrapped around them like she was holding herself together. She flinched before Mahiru even said a word.

Mahiru stopped. No sudden moves. No loud noises. Just a steady breath, then another.

“I didn’t mean to scare you,” she said gently. “I can leave, if you want.”

(Y/N)’s eyes flicked up. She didn’t speak- just shook her head, barely perceptible. Her gaze was wary, but not unkind.

Mahiru studied her for a moment. (Y/N) had always kept to herself in class. Quiet. Careful. Like she was bracing for something. Mahiru had seen bruises like that before- not the kind on skin, but the kind behind the eyes.

“I just wanted to develop some photos,” Mahiru continued, moving to her usual table. She set down her bag with deliberate softness, not looking at (Y/N) again right away. “You can stay. I don’t mind.”

Silence stretched. A quiet, fragile kind. But Mahiru didn’t try to fill it. She just got to work, letting the scent of developer fluid and the rhythmic motions of her craft fill the room with calm.

A soft voice, almost a whisper “You… take photos of people, right?”

Mahiru turned. (Y/N)’s arms were still wrapped around herself, but her gaze had shifted. Curious. Afraid, but curious.

“Yeah,” Mahiru said. “Not the posed kind, though. I like catching real moments. People being themselves.”

“…Is that hard?”

Mahiru tilted her head. “Sometimes. Depends on the person. Some people put up walls. Some people just… disappear behind a smile.” She paused. “But I think everyone deserves to be seen. Really seen. Not judged. Not used. Just… seen.”

(Y/N) blinked. Her throat moved like she wanted to say something else but couldn’t find the words. Mahiru didn’t push her.

Minutes passed. Then… “Can I see one?”

Mahiru smiled, soft and genuine. She handed over a photo- black and white, grainy but intimate. A girl laughing mid-step, barefoot in the rain. The joy in her eyes was unfiltered. Free.

“She looks happy,” (Y/N) murmured, almost like it hurt to say.

“She was. For a moment.”

“…I don’t think I’ve ever looked like that.”

Something in Mahiru’s chest tugged painfully. She crouched near (Y/N), keeping a careful distance, her voice quieter now.

“Then maybe one day,” she said, “I can take a photo of you like that.”

(Y/N) tensed. She didn’t look up. “I don’t… like cameras.”

Mahiru nodded. “Okay. I won’t take any unless you ask.”

A long silence followed, but it was different now. Less sharp. Less suffocating.

Finally, (Y/N) asked, “Why are you being nice to me?”

Mahiru looked at her, earnest and unwavering. “Because I’ve seen what cruelty does to people. And because being kind… costs nothing. But it means everything.”

(Y/N)’s eyes shimmered, and she wiped at them with the back of her sleeve. Not sobbing. Just letting go, piece by piece.

“Most guys I knew didn’t think that way,” she whispered.

“I’m not most guys,” Mahiru said simply. “And they were wrong. About everything.”

The room felt warmer now. Not fully safe- not yet- but safer than it had been. Mahiru turned back to her photos, giving (Y/N) her space, but the quiet between them no longer felt like a wall.

It felt like a bridge.

The next time Mahiru entered the studio, (Y/N) was already there.

She sat on the windowsill this time, knees tucked up, eyes on the light slanting across the floor. She didn’t look surprised when Mahiru arrived- just quietly acknowledged her with a small nod.

Mahiru smiled softly. “Hey.”

“Hi.”

That was all. No explanations, no apologies for taking up space. Just presence.

Mahiru began setting up her camera again, checking the prints she’d left to dry last time. Her hands worked by muscle memory, but her mind was half on (Y/N). She could feel the quiet shift in the air- not tension, but something fragile trying to grow roots.

“You come here a lot,” (Y/N) said after a while, her voice still soft but a little more open.

Mahiru glanced up. “Yeah. It’s my favorite place. It’s quiet, but not lonely. You know?”

(Y/N) nodded. “I think I do.”

They spent more afternoons like that- saying little, doing even less. Sometimes (Y/N) brought a book. Sometimes she watched Mahiru work in silence, eyes following her movements with a kind of wary fascination.

One day, after Mahiru developed a print and held it up to the light, she felt (Y/N)’s gaze linger a little longer than usual.

“…Can I try?”

Mahiru turned, blinking. “You want to take a photo?”

(Y/N) hesitated, like the offer might collapse if she reached for it. Then she nodded.

“Of something else. Not people. Just… I want to know what you see through the camera.”

Mahiru handed it over gently, careful not to overwhelm her. “It’s all about finding the moment,” she said. “Even if it’s quiet. Especially if it’s quiet.”

(Y/N) moved slowly through the room, camera clutched like something precious. She didn’t raise it to her eye right away. Just observed. Then- click.

A stack of worn books on a shelf… The light catching on Mahiru’s film strips. A photo pinned crookedly on the wall, curling at the edges like it had been there too long.

When she handed the camera back, her hands were shaking just a little. But her eyes were calm.

Mahiru reviewed the shots, brows lifting. “These are good.”

“You’re just saying that.”

“No, I’m not.” Mahiru turned the display toward her. “Look. You’ve got an eye for the quiet things. The things most people overlook. That’s rare.”

Something bloomed faintly in (Y/N)’s chest- small, unfamiliar. Not pride. Something gentler. Like she mattered.

“You’re the only one I like being around,” she admitted quietly. “Everyone else feels… too loud. Too close.”

Mahiru set the camera down, her expression unreadable for a moment. Then she moved to sit near her, again keeping distance but close enough to be felt.

“I’ll never be loud with you,” Mahiru promised. “Not unless you want me to be. And if you ever want space, I’ll give it. You call the shots.”

(Y/N) looked at her- really looked at her- and for the first time, the fear in her eyes wasn’t the strongest thing there.

“…Can I take a photo of you?” she asked. “Just once?”

Mahiru blinked. “Me?”

(Y/N) nodded, already lifting the camera. “You were the first person who made me feel like I wasn’t broken.”

Mahiru didn’t speak- just sat still, the warmth in her expression softening every line of her face.

Click....

(Y/N) lowered the camera. Her hands weren’t shaking anymore.

Toko (and Jack):

(Y/N) kept to the corners of Hope’s Peak like a ghost- silent, untouchable, half-there. Shadows had become home, and solitude, the safest companion. The halls were too loud, the stares too sharp, and worst of all, there were too many boys. Too many broad shoulders, too many lowered voices and sudden movements, too many ways for fear to bloom in their chest like a bruise.

So when Toko Fukawa noticed them- really noticed- it was like the page of a book folding open mid-sentence.

She was used to being invisible, too. Not that she wanted attention. Attention meant judgment. Meant whispers and the gleam of disgust in someone’s eye. But (Y/N) wasn’t disgusted. When she looked at her, it was like she was bracing for a storm that never came. Like she was holding her breath, and still chose to meet her gaze anyway.

It unsettled her. And fascinated her.

One afternoon in the library, the silence between them finally broke. (Y/N) sat at the farthest table, fingers twitching as she turned the same page over and over, unread.

“You’re… uh… you’re not doing it right,” Toko blurted, then flinched at herself. “I mean-! You’ve been on that page for six minutes and thirty-two seconds.”

(Y/N) startled like a deer, flinching before shrinking into herself. Toko nearly apologized- nearly- but the words died in her throat. She saw the fear then, tucked behind her eyes like a broken wing.

“I wasn’t watching you,” she lied, cheeks burning. “Okay, maybe I was, but not in a creepy way, I swear. I just- ugh! I mean-” She groaned, burying her face in her sleeves. “This is why I should just talk to paper…”

“…You’re not scary.”

The voice was so soft, Toko almost didn’t hear it.

(Y/N) was still hunched, but she looked at her with something new: caution, not fear. As if testing the waters of her presence.

“You’re not like them,” she said.

Toko blinked. Then flushed deeper.

“W-Well of course not! I’m disgusting and weird and hideous and- wait, no, that wasn’t the point-!” She slapped a hand over her mouth. “God, I’m screwing this up…”

But (Y/N) wasn’t retreating. Their lips twitched upward- not quite a smile, more like the idea of one.

A beat passed. Then Toko hesitated. “Do you… wanna read with me?”

The next few days were different.

(Y/N) didn’t talk much, but she didn’t have to. Toko would sit across from her in the library, the space between filled with the quiet rustle of pages and the faint tap of pencils. She’d sneak glances when (Y/N) wasn’t looking. Noticed how her shoulders flinched whenever someone loud passed by. How she always kept a wall at her back.

Toko knew trauma. Knew what it was like to live with the ghost of a hand too rough and a voice too loud. It made her stomach twist, thinking of what (Y/N) must’ve endured. But she didn’t ask. Instead, she gave her space- and safety.

At least, until Genocide Jack decided to make an appearance.

(Y/N) had been particularly quiet that day. Paler than usual. The bruise of nightmares still dark under her eyes. Toko barely had time to ask what was wrong before the pressure in her chest burst.

A jolt, a cackle, a sneeze- and she was gone.

In her place stood Genocide Jack, twirling scissors in her hand like they were an extension of her fingers.

“Well, hellooo, cupcake!” she sang, eyes glinting. “Didn’t expect to see such a sad little cutie on this fine, freaky day!”

(Y/N) froze.

Jack noticed.

Her smirk faltered, just a little. She cocked her head, lowering her scissors.

“Hey. Hey, woah. Easy there, sweetheart,” she cooed. “You think I’m gonna hurt you? Nah. You’re not my type.” She winked, but it didn’t carry the same manic glee. More… reassuring. Protective, even.

“You’re shaking,” she said, softer now. “Who did it?”

(Y/N)’s eyes flicked away.

Jack crouched down in front of them, still keeping a careful distance.

“You know, Toko’s real boring about this crap. She’d stammer and flail and write you a sad sonnet or whatever.” She tapped her chin. “But me? I get mad. Real mad. No one- and I mean no one- gets to hurt my little book buddy.”

That surprised (Y/N). “Book… buddy?”

“Damn right,” Jack said, grinning. “You’ve been sharing brain space with Toko. Which means, like it or not, you’ve got me too. Congratulations! You’ve earned a raving lunatic guardian angel.”

It was ridiculous. And terrifying. And oddly… comforting.

When Toko returned, blinking back into herself like a splash of cold water, she gasped. “Did she say something weird? She always says something weird-”

“She called me her book buddy,” (Y/N) murmured.

Toko froze. A flush crept up her face.

“She… she what?!”

(Y/N) chuckled.

It was quiet, fragile- but real. The first sound of real laughter that had left her in weeks.

And in that moment, for the first time in longer than she could remember, she felt safe.

Not because the world was safe.

But because someone saw her. Bruises and all. And stayed.

After that strange, oddly healing moment, something began to shift.

(Y/N) kept coming to the library, but now she didn’t sit across from Toko- she sat beside her. Close enough that their sleeves would sometimes brush. Close enough that when loud footsteps echoed down the hall, (Y/N) would inch a little nearer, and Toko wouldn’t say a word. She’d just keep reading, heart pounding but steady, letting her presence do what words couldn’t.

And sometimes, when things got especially bad- when the nightmares came back, when (Y/N) walked the halls like she was holding back tears with each breath- Genocide Jack would come out, unprompted.

Toko didn’t always understand it, but somehow, (Y/N) liked her.

Her. The maniac. The murderer. The sharp-toothed, unfiltered chaos hiding in her bones.

“You’re not afraid of me,” Jack had said once, tilting her head as she sprawled upside down across the library bench. “Why’s that, huh? You like girls with a little stab in their step?”

(Y/N) gave her a look that was half-smile, half-sigh. “You’re honest,” she said simply. “You never lie about what you are.”

Jack blinked. Then she gave a laugh that wasn’t manic at all- just warm.

“Damn. You’re weird. I like it.”

They became an odd trio, in their way. (Y/N), quiet and ghostlike, Toko with her words and shame and fragile pride, and Jack, blazing through it all like a storm with scissors and sarcasm.

When Toko asked, in one of her rare moments of boldness, why (Y/N) kept showing up, she answered without hesitation:

“Because you make me feel okay… just being here.”

That stayed with Toko. Long after the library closed. Long after (Y/N) had gone.

It haunted her in the best way.

One evening, the library was nearly empty. Toko sat with her knees hugged to her chest, notebook open but untouched. (Y/N) hadn’t said much all day. She was pale again. Too still.

“Bad night?” she asked quietly.

(Y/N) nodded, then hesitated. “He used to bang on the door before coming in. Even now… I flinch when I hear knocking.”

Toko’s hands clenched around her sleeves.

“…I know how that feels.”

She looked up, surprised.

Toko wasn’t looking at her- she was staring at the floor, trembling just slightly.

“I had someone like that… he never knocked, either,” she whispered. “Sometimes I think I still hear his footsteps. I hate it. I hate how my body still remembers even when I try to forget.”

(Y/N) shifted. Slowly, she reached out and placed her hand over Toko’s.

Just that.

Toko froze.

But she didn’t pull away.

Neither of them said anything for a while. The silence wasn’t heavy this time. It was soft. Tentative.

“Do you… wanna stay with me tonight?” (Y/N) asked. “We don’t have to talk. Just… I sleep better when I know someone’s nearby.”

Toko’s breath caught.

Then she nodded.

That night, Toko sat curled in a beanbag in (Y/N)’s dorm room, notebook in her lap, glasses slipping down her nose. (Y/N) was in bed, curled under her blanket, already breathing softly.

Jack didn’t come out. For once, she stayed quiet. Still. Maybe even… at peace.

Toko watched (Y/N) sleep for a while, blinking slowly.

She didn’t understand why she liked being around her- around them- but she felt it. Felt it in the way (Y/N) leaned into her presence. Trusted her. Wanted her there.

It didn’t make her feel disgusting.

It made her feel wanted.

Maki:

It started with a broken cup.

(Y/N) hadn’t meant to drop it- it was just a clumsy twitch of the wrist, a ghost memory of flinching at a voice that wasn’t there. The ceramic shattered on the dormitory floor, echoing far too loud in the quiet of the common room. Her breath caught, eyes wide, body frozen like prey expecting punishment.

Maki Harukawa stepped into the doorway at that exact moment.

Her expression was unreadable, the same quiet storm it always was. Sharp eyes flicked from the broken cup to (Y/N), then to the trembling in her hands.

“I’ll clean it,” (Y/N) said quickly, too quickly. Her voice was thin and shaky, like a thread pulled too tight. “I didn’t mean to- please, don’t-”

“I’m not mad.” Maki’s voice was flat, but not cold. She moved slowly, deliberately, as if approaching a wounded animal. “I’ll get the broom.”

(Y/N) blinked. That was all she said.

Minutes passed. The shards were swept into a dustpan. Maki didn’t ask questions, didn’t press. She simply crouched, scooped the last of the fragments into a bag, and threw it away.

Then silence.

(Y/N) stood awkwardly in the corner, arms wrapped tightly around herself. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“I wanted to.”

“You... wanted to?”

Maki finally looked at her then- really looked. Not with pity, but with a kind of quiet understanding that unnerved and comforted at once.

“I’ve seen that look before,” she said after a pause. “The way you flinched. The way your voice changes around men.”

(Y/N) stiffened.

Maki sat down on the edge of the couch, legs tucked under her. She didn’t ask (Y/N) to join her. She didn’t ask anything at all.

But after a moment, (Y/N) sat too. Not beside her- just near enough to feel the warmth of someone who wasn’t going to hurt her.

“It was my stepfather,” (Y/N) whispered, unsure why the words came out. “He was... angry. A lot. And when I couldn’t be what he wanted, he made sure I understood that.”

Maki didn’t look away. Her face didn’t twist in sympathy. She just listened.

“I’m afraid all the time,” (Y/N) admitted. “Especially around men. I know not everyone’s like him, but my body won’t listen. It freezes. I... freeze.”

“You don’t have to explain yourself to me.” Maki’s tone didn’t change, but there was something soft behind it now. “Fear is how we survive sometimes.”

(Y/N) looked at her- the calm way Maki sat, so still, like a blade sheathed but never dull. She didn’t fidget. She didn’t reach out. She gave them space in a way no one else did.

“You’re the first person who hasn’t tried to fix me,” (Y/N) said, voice barely audible.

“That’s because you’re not broken,” Maki answered. “You’re hurt. There’s a difference.”

Silence wrapped around them again, this time not suffocating, but protective. Like a blanket pulled just high enough to hide behind.

Maki stood after a while, heading for the door. But before she left, she paused.

“I’m in the training room most mornings,” she said. “You don’t have to come. But if you do, I won’t ask why.”

(Y/N) blinked. “Are you... inviting me?”

Her eyes met (Y/N)’s. “I’m saying... it’s easier to fight ghosts when you’re not alone.”

And then she was gone.

But the room didn’t feel empty after.

It felt like the beginning of something quiet and kind.

It took three days for (Y/N) to show up.

She lingered at the edge of the training room, hands in her sleeves, unsure if she was welcome or just tolerated. But Maki didn’t stop mid-punch or raise an eyebrow. She just glanced toward her once, nodded like she’d expected it all along, and kept moving.

The rhythmic sound of fists against the sandbag was oddly soothing. Predictable. Controlled.

Unlike the chaos in (Y/N)’s chest.

“Want to try?” Maki asked without turning around.

(Y/N) hesitated. “I don’t really... fight.”

“That’s fine,” Maki said simply. “You don’t have to be strong like me.”

She offered a pair of gloves anyway, left them on the bench without pressure. (Y/N) didn’t touch them. Not that day.

But she came back. Again and again.

And slowly, something changed.

It wasn’t about the punching bags or the training. It was the routine. The silence. The way Maki didn’t push or prod or fill the air with empty words. She understood the language of people who flinch when spoken to too loudly.

(Y/N) started stretching beside her. Then mimicking the jabs. Then laughing- only once- when she tripped over her own feet, and Maki’s mouth twitched with something dangerously close to a smirk.

She was different when she let her guard down. Her sarcasm was dry and unexpected, her observations razor-sharp but never cruel. And (Y/N) found herself relaxing, just a little, every time she was near.

One morning, (Y/N) came in with a hoodie pulled tight over their head, shoulders hunched. Her eyes were puffy. She didn’t say anything.

Maki didn’t ask.

She just took a water bottle, cracked it open, and handed it over wordlessly.

“I had a nightmare,” (Y/N) whispered after a while. “I woke up and thought I was back there.”

Maki looked at her, silent for a moment. Then she said, “Sometimes I still dream of the first person I had to kill.”

(Y/N)’s breath caught.

“I didn’t want to,” Maki continued. “But I was told it was necessary. That if I didn’t, they’d kill me instead.”

A pause.

Then, gently: “You’re not alone in waking up afraid.”

(Y/N) looked down at her hands. “I hate how weak I feel.”

“You’re not weak. You survived.”

One week later, (Y/N) asked if she could walk with Maki to the courtyard.

It wasn’t much. Just sitting together in the chilly breeze, backs against the wall, sharing a peach Maki had taken from the kitchen like it was nothing.

Maki glanced sideways as (Y/N) chewed in silence. “You don’t have to stay near me just because I make you feel safe.”

(Y/N)’s eyes widened. “That’s not the only reason.”

“Oh?”

“I... like you.” The words stumbled out in a rush. “I mean, not just the way you make me feel calm. I like you. The way you listen. The way you don’t treat me like glass.”

Maki blinked. For a second, she said nothing.

Then: “I like being around you too.”

She didn’t blush. Didn’t fidget. But she let her knee brush against (Y/N)’s, the contact featherlight but real. Present. Intentional.

“I won’t touch you unless you ask,” Maki said quietly. “But if you ever want to be close, I’ll be here.”

And (Y/N), for the first time in years, leaned in just enough to rest her head against her shoulder.

The air smelled like fallen leaves and something new.

Something safe.

For my request, can you write a oneshot featuring Mondo with bondage and gags please? He gets the idea to try escaping bondage to prove how tough he can be. So he instructs his gang members to take him to an abandoned warehouse to shackle his barefeet to a heavy weight, handcuff him and tape gag his mouth.

For a potential angst plot, as Mondo struggles to escape his bonds, he reflects on his worth as a gang leader and if he'll be as good as his late brother. What do you think?

A/N: Sure, @princeasimdiya12! I can do that :}

Stronger than Chains

Mondo Owada Oneshot

Warnings: Physical restraint/bondage, Self-imposed suffering, Blood/Injury, Emotional distress/Self-worth issues

Word Count: 1762

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The clattering of chains echoed through the cold, hollow warehouse. The moonlight slanted through broken windows in thick beams, catching on the dust that hung in the air like fog.

"Alright, you punks," Mondo barked, pacing barefoot across the cracked concrete. His jacket flared out behind him with each swaggering step. "You heard what I said. Lock me down. Tight. I ain't playin'."

The Crazy Diamonds, his loyal gang, exchanged uneasy looks. They'd done a lot for their boss over the years- illegal races, turf fights, even the occasional back-alley brawl- but this was... new.

"Boss... You serious?" Asked Mondo’s right-hand man, scratching the back of his neck. "You want us to actually chain you up like some kinda... prisoner?"

"You deaf or somethin’?" Mondo growled, shooting him a look that could start fires. "Told ya! I gotta prove I ain't weak. No matter what tries to hold me down, I’m stronger. This ain't for you. It's for me."

A few nervous chuckles floated up, but they obeyed. Always did.

Mondo planted himself in the center of the room, arms crossed, head held high. His feet, bare against the freezing floor, shifted slightly as they brought out the iron shackles. Heavy chains linked them to a giant scrap engine block they'd salvaged from a junkyard- easily over 600 pounds. It clanked threateningly as it was dragged closer.

"Do it," he grunted.

The gang worked fast. Cold iron cuffs snapped around his ankles, biting into the skin slightly. The chain dragged heavy across the ground as they locked it securely to the weight. His legs were effectively stuck- he could shuffle maybe an inch at most, if that.

Next, they produced a pair of handcuffs. Mondo smirked through gritted teeth, shoving his arms behind his back himself, daring them to slap them on. They did, clicking tightly around his wrists, the chill of the steel stinging his skin.

"You sure about the last part, boss?" One of his men asked, holding up a roll of thick, industrial duct tape.

"Yeah," Mondo growled low in his throat. "No talkin'. No excuses."

With a nod, the man ripped a length of tape free and slapped it firmly across Mondo’s mouth, smoothing it down so tight it almost molded to the shape of his lips. The adhesive pulled at the stubble on his jaw, and Mondo instinctively let out a rough, muffled grunt-

"Mmph!"

He glared at the gang but nodded approvingly. Good. No backing out now.

The gang stepped back, watching in tense silence as Mondo shifted, testing the bonds. The chains clattered and groaned under the strain as he tugged at them. His muscles flexed, sweat starting to bead at his temples despite the freezing warehouse air.

"Mmphh-!" Mondo grunted fiercely through the gag, struggling harder, jerking his legs in place, but the weight was immovable. His bare feet scraped against the rough concrete, the iron cuffs biting deeper with each pull. He tried wrenching his hands free behind his back- the cuffs clinked mockingly.

He let out another low, furious moan- "Mrghhh...!"

His gang watched in awe. Their boss was thrashing like a wild beast, fighting every inch of steel with the pure stubborn force of will that had made him the most feared biker in the country. His hair clung damply to his forehead, his taped mouth twisting with every muffled snarl and grunt:

"Mmmf- rrmph! Nghhh!"

But no matter how he strained, no matter how violently he jerked against them, the chains held. His knees eventually buckled and he sank slightly, panting heavily through his nose, letting out a shuddering groan,

"Hrrmmphhh..."

Still... he grinned beneath the gag, the edges of his mouth pulling tight under the tape. He hadn’t given up. Not even close.

He was Mondo Owada.

And nothing- not even steel and concrete- was gonna break him.

The Crazy Diamonds hesitated at the edges of the room, exchanging another series of nervous looks.

"Boss said not to let him out 'til he tells us," One muttered, shoving his hands into his jacket pockets. "We better let him... work it out."

"Even if he's stuck like that all night?" another whispered.

There was no answer. He just nodded toward the exit.

One by one, the gang members filed out, boots scuffing against concrete, leaving Mondo alone in the vast, echoing warehouse. The heavy door groaned shut, and with a final clank, it latched.

Silence. Bitter, biting silence.

Mondo jerked his arms, muscles flaring beneath his jacket. The cuffs rattled mockingly. His bare feet strained against the shackles, toes curling against the cold floor as he heaved his body weight forward. The chain dragged maybe an inch, scraping noisily- but that was it. The heavy engine didn't even budge.

"Rrmmphh!" Mondo snarled into the tape gag, furious. Furious at the chains. Furious at himself.

He slumped forward slightly, panting through his nose. The tape clung uncomfortably to his sweaty skin.

Still bound, still gagged, still stuck. He squeezed his eyes shut.

And in that darkness, another weight- heavier than the iron- settled on his chest.

Daiya wouldn't have gotten caught like this, he thought bitterly. My brother... he wouldn't have needed some dumbass stunt to prove he was tough.

Mondo shifted again, writhing against the cuffs until the metal bit deep into his wrists. He groaned low, a strangled noise against the tape, "Mrghhh..."

Daiya had been fearless. Respected. Legendary. When he spoke, the gang moved like a single living creature. When he walked into a room, the air itself seemed to tense.

Mondo? 

Mondo still felt like a damn kid playing dress-up in a dead man's boots.

He growled through the gag, a long, furious noise, yanking so hard against the cuffs his shoulders ached. The cuffs held. The chains held. Nothing broke.

"Nhhrghh-!" he cried, thrashing again. His hair was plastered to his forehead, breath sawing out in desperate, muffled gasps.

He hated this feeling. This helplessness. This weakness.

Was he really just a shadow of his brother? Some reckless idiot who could bark loud but never live up to the legend?

Sweat dripped down the side of his face as he sagged forward, the chain rattling softly with the motion. He stayed there, kneeling on the cold floor, the weight of everything- the chains, the memories, the expectations- crushing him down.

A ragged, barely audible sound escaped him through the gag, "...mrmph..."

He wasn't good enough.

Not yet.

Maybe... maybe not ever.

But he would be. He had to be. For Daiya. For the Crazy Diamonds. For himself.

Slowly, gritting his teeth under the tape, Mondo lifted his head. His muscles burned. His skin stung. His wrists were raw against the cuffs.

Good. Pain meant he was still fighting.

Pain meant he was still alive.

And if he was alive- he could still win.

With a deep, snarling breath, he planted his feet against the concrete, every muscle in his body straining against the chains once more.

The engine didn’t move. The cuffs dug deep. But Mondo Owada-

"MMPH-!!" he roared into the gag, a savage sound of pure, unfiltered will-

Wasn't giving up.

The minutes- or maybe hours dragged by in a haze of agony and fury.

Mondo had no way of keeping time. Just the sound of his ragged, muffled breathing behind the duct tape, the constant clink and scrape of metal against concrete, and the burning fire in his muscles.

He thrashed harder. Again. And again.

The cuffs carved angry red lines into his wrists. His ankles ached from how tightly the iron shackles bit into them, raw and scraped from his jerking struggles. His jaw hurt from straining behind the tape gag, his skin tender and irritated where the adhesive pulled with every grunt and growl.

And yet-

He didn't stop.

"Rrrghh...! Mmmpghh-!" he snarled low in his throat, eyes burning, forehead pressed to the cold floor for a moment as he sucked in furious breaths through his nose.

He refused to let these chains keep him down.

He refused to be weak.

He refused to stay shackled to some damn hunk of scrap metal like a trapped animal.

With a savage roar, Mondo dug deep- deeper than he ever had before- and heaved.

Muscles screaming, he twisted his hands as violently as he could behind his back, wrenching against the handcuffs until-

CLINK- SNAP!

One of the cuffs popped loose with a painful jerk, biting his wrist open in the process. Blood welled up, but Mondo didn’t even flinch.

He staggered forward, dragging the chain still shackling his ankles. Sweat poured from him. His knees buckled. But his grin- God, his grin - split across his face under the tape, wild and triumphant.

He dropped heavily onto his side, forcing his hands in front of him, fumbling to rip at the tape gag with trembling fingers. His fingernails caught the edge of the sticky mess, peeling it painfully from his raw skin.

It felt like ripping off a layer of himself- but he didn’t stop.

"Khh-!" he hissed as the tape tore free, finally letting his bruised lips part. He spat out a heavy breath, his voice hoarse from grunting and growling for so long.

"Hahh... hahhh..." He sucked in deep gulps of air, tasting freedom, tasting victory.

Mondo sat there for a long moment, completely wrecked- wrists bloodied, face red and raw, legs still trapped by the heavy chain- and still, he laughed. A low, raspy chuckle that grew into a full, stubborn, defiant laugh.

"Heh... Heh-heh... Haah...!"

He wiped the back of his hand across his mouth, smearing a bit of blood and sweat, his chest heaving from exertion.

Still shackled to the heavy weight, still hurting all over- but free from the cuffs, free from the gag, free from the worst of it.

And even now, beaten and bruised and practically vibrating from the effort, that same cocky, stubborn smile pulled at the corners of his mouth.

"Tch..." he muttered, dragging himself slowly to his feet despite the heavy chain. "Guess... I ain't such a damn weakling after all, huh, bro?"

He could almost hear Daiya’s voice in the back of his mind- not laughing at him, not mocking him- but proud.

Mondo stood there, broken and bloody and still standing, and for the first time in a long time... he actually believed he was worthy of being the Crazy Diamonds' leader.

And he'd damn well keep proving it- no matter how many times he had to fight. No matter how many times he had to break the chains himself.

Welcome!

I'm Gi, thank you for visiting my profile :}

Okay, so, I'm going to be so honest... I'm not exactly experienced when it comes to Tumblr. I mostly use it to look at art, and read fanfiction. Nonetheless, I want to try! I'm planning on posting my art, along with any fics I decide I want to write. I normally posty art on Insta, and my fics on Wattpad, but I thought it was time for a change, so I migrated here. I don't know what I'm doing exactly, but I would love suggestions on how to make things better, my writing, art, profile, everything! Feel free to give me any tips you want, I'll appreciate anything given to me :}

I'm going to start off with posting some art, just so this isn't my only post. If you like my work, don't hesitate to send me requests or suggestions!

Ember in the Dark pt.2

Young!Silco x Fem!Reader

pt.1 - pt.3

Warnings: Violence, Themes of survival, Themes of secrecy and trust., Trauma, and Emotional distess.

Word Count: 2281

Summary: (Y/N) reveals her long-hidden magic to Silco, who, instead of reacting with fear, warns her of the danger if others find out. As they return to their hideout, she struggles with whether to tell Vander and Felicia. Silco advises secrecy, reminding her that once shared, it’s no longer just hers. Before she can decide, an unexpected visitor arrives- Vander and Felicia, worried about her disappearance. Their concern turns to frustration, prompting (Y/N) to make a choice. She reveals her magic, summoning a flicker of golden light. Stunned, Felicia reacts with shock and exasperation, while Vander, though concerned, reassures her that she’s still one of them. Despite their initial frustration, they accept her, and the tension eases.

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

(Y/N)’s hand was still in Silco’s as he helped her up, steady despite the grime and damp clinging to her skin. For a second, she just stood there, forcing herself to breathe, to push down the tremors in her limbs.

She had to decide.

She could tell him.

The thought sent a sick kind of fear curling in her gut. For years, she had fought to keep it hidden. She had watched her mother waste away under the weight of survival, all while whispering the same warning over and over: Never let them see. Never let them know.

But Silco had seen something. Maybe he didn’t know exactly what, but she could feel his eyes on her, sharp and calculating even as they started walking back toward Vander and Felicia.

If she told him now, if she trusted him, would he keep it?

Or would he look at her like she was something other?

"You're quiet," Silco muttered as they weaved through the labyrinth of rusted pipes and narrow alleys. "Not like you."

(Y/N) huffed, pulling her cloak tighter around her shoulders. "Almost got caught by enforcers. Guess I’m not in a talking mood."

Silco gave her a sidelong glance. "You weren’t just running from them."

Her throat went dry.

She kept her expression even, but she could feel him watching her. The way he always did when he was picking someone apart, digging beneath the surface until he found the weak spot.

She should lie.

She should.

Instead, she stopped walking.

Silco took a few steps before realizing she wasn’t following. He turned, brow furrowing as she clenched and unclenched her fists at her sides.

"(Y/N)," he said, slower now, careful.

Her chest ached. Say nothing. Swallow it down. Keep it buried.

But she was tired of swallowing it down.

"I have to tell you something," she blurted before she could stop herself.

Silco’s expression didn’t change, but she saw the way he straightened slightly, the way his hands twitched as if bracing for a fight. "Alright," he said, voice measured.

(Y/N)’s heart slammed against her ribs. This was it.

She glanced around, making sure no one was nearby, then took a slow breath.

Her fingers twitched.

And then, with a hesitant, controlled motion, she let the smallest flicker of golden light spark between them.

The glow barely lasted a second, just a tiny crackle of warmth between her fingertips, like the dying ember of a flame.

But Silco saw.

His whole body went rigid.

The silence between them stretched, thick and suffocating.

(Y/N) clenched her jaw, forcing herself to meet his gaze. If he ran- if he flinched- she would bolt and never look back.

But Silco didn’t flinch.

He just stared, something unreadable flickering behind his sharp, dark eyes.

"You’ve been hiding that this whole time," he said at last, his voice disturbingly calm.

(Y/N) swallowed hard. "Yeah."

A long, tense pause.

Then-

"Smart," he murmured.

She blinked. "What?"

Silco tilted his head, watching her like he was seeing something new, something dangerous. "If people knew, you’d be dead."

She exhaled sharply, some part of her unraveling at the words. "I know."

Silco’s gaze didn’t waver. "Does Vander know?"

She shook her head. "Just you."

His lips twitched slightly, not quite a smirk, but something close. "And you trust me with it?"

"Wouldn't have shown you if I didn’t."

Silco was quiet for a moment, eyes flickering with something she couldn’t quite name. Then, to her surprise, he let out a short breath of laughter.

"Well, shit," he muttered, rubbing a hand down his face. "That explains a lot."

(Y/N) frowned. "You’re… not freaking out?"

He looked at her, something sharp in his expression. "Oh, I am," he admitted. "But not because of what you can do." His voice lowered. "Because if the wrong people see, we won’t just be running from Enforcers next time."

(Y/N)’s stomach twisted.

Silco sighed and ran a hand through his dark hair. "Vander and Felicia are still looking for you. We need to go back before they start tearing up the whole damn city."

She hesitated. "And… you’re not going to tell them?"

Silco met her eyes, something dangerous curling at the edges of his smirk. "Your secret, your choice."

(Y/N) felt her chest tighten.

She had always expected fear. Hatred…

But Silco…

Silco just looked at her like she was a puzzle he had finally solved.

Like she was someone important.

Something powerful.

"Come on," he said, turning back toward the hideout. "Wouldn’t want Vander to cry over you."

(Y/N) snorted despite herself. "Yeah, right."

She followed him.

And for the first time in years, she wasn’t running.

The walk back was quieter than (Y/N) expected.

Silco didn’t push her to talk. He didn’t ask questions, didn’t prod at the weight sitting heavy on her chest. He just kept walking, hands tucked into his pockets, his sharp eyes flicking toward her every so often like he was keeping tally of her breaths, making sure she didn’t disappear again.

She should have felt relieved.

Instead, her stomach twisted tighter with every step.

She had told Silco.

The words still rattled in her skull, the image of that tiny spark of magic dancing between her fingers burned into her mind. For years, she had kept it buried so deep it felt like a second skin, an instinct as natural as breathing. But now-

Now, he knew.

And soon, she’d have to decide if Vander and Felicia would too.

The old hideout came into view- a crumbling, half-abandoned space wedged between rusted pipes and makeshift walls of scrap metal. It wasn’t much, just a shelter against the chaos of the Undercity, but it was theirs. A place where they could breathe, even if the air was thick with smog and secrets.

Silco pushed open the creaky door and stepped inside, the dim glow of a stolen lantern casting shadows across the room. (Y/N) hesitated in the doorway, her fingers tightening around the frayed edge of her cloak.

"You coming in, or you planning to stand there all night?" Silco asked, throwing himself onto one of the old crates they used as seats.

She rolled her eyes but stepped inside, kicking the door shut behind her.

The space was eerily quiet without Vander’s gruff voice or Felicia’s sharp, teasing remarks. Their absence made the place feel hollow, like a ribcage missing its heart.

(Y/N) paced.

Sat down.

Got back up again.

Silco watched her, an amused tilt to his expression. "You’re overthinking."

"Shut up," she muttered, dragging a hand through her hair.

Silco didn’t argue. Just leaned back, stretching his legs out in front of him. "You don’t have to tell them," he said after a beat.

(Y/N) froze mid-step. "What?"

"You heard me." He tilted his head, studying her with that sharp, calculating gaze. "It’s your secret. No one else’s."

Her throat tightened. "But if they find out later-"

"They’ll be pissed," Silco finished bluntly. "But that’s a problem for later, isn’t it?"

(Y/N) clenched her jaw. She hated that he was right.

She should tell them. They were family- or as close to it as anyone could get in the Lanes. Vander, with his stupid protective instincts and his too-big heart. Felicia, who could cut with words as easily as with a blade, but always made sure they had food, even if it meant going hungry herself.

She trusted them.

Didn’t she?

"Would you?" she asked suddenly, turning to face Silco.

He raised a brow. "Would I what?"

"Tell them. If you were me."

Silco considered that for a moment, his expression unreadable. Then, he smirked, lazy and sharp. "I would take it to my grave."

(Y/N) groaned, flopping onto a crate beside him. "That’s so helpful, thanks."

Silco shrugged. "I’m just saying. People don’t react well to things they don’t understand. You already know that."

She did.

Gods, she did.

Her fingers curled into her palms.

"Vander’s not like that," she murmured, more to herself than to him.

Silco hummed. "Maybe. Maybe not." He tapped his fingers against his knee. "But once you tell someone a secret, it’s not just yours anymore."

The words settled deep in her ribs, heavy and true.

She hated that.

The handle of the door rattled before she could respond. Silco had locked it when they came inside…

Both of them stiffened.

(Y/N)’s breath caught as she shot a look at Silco. His expression shifted instantly, the easy amusement fading into something sharp and ready.

Then-

"Oi, you in there?"

Vander’s voice, rough and edged with something tight- worry.

(Y/N) exhaled, her pulse still hammering in her throat.

Silco smirked, rolling his eyes. "Took them long enough."

Felicia’s voice cut in, laced with irritation. "If she’s not in there, I swear, I’m-"

(Y/N) pulled the door open before she could finish.

Vander and Felicia stood on the threshold, their expressions a mix of frustration, relief, and exhaustion.

Felicia’s narrowed eyes swept over her. "You little shit-"

(Y/N) barely had time to brace before Felicia yanked her into a tight, bone-crushing hug.

"You scared us," she muttered into (Y/N)’s shoulder, her grip fierce, like she was making sure she was real.

(Y/N) swallowed against the lump in her throat. "Sorry," she mumbled.

Vander crossed his arms, his gaze flicking between her and Silco. "What happened?"

The question lingered in the air, waiting.

(Y/N) felt Silco’s presence beside her, silent but steady.

This was it.

Tell them. Keep it secret. Trust them. Keep them safe.

Her fingers twitched.

She took a breath-

And made her choice.

(Y/N) stepped aside, letting Vander and Felicia into the hideout. Her stomach churned as she shut the door behind them, sealing herself in with the weight of what she was about to do.

Felicia flopped onto a crate with a dramatic sigh, arms crossed tightly over her chest. "Do you have any idea how much time we wasted looking for your ass?" she grumbled. "Vander was ready to bust down half the city."

Vander didn’t deny it. He just gave (Y/N) a long, searching look before sitting down himself. "You alright?"

That was Vander. Not scolding her. Not demanding an explanation right away. Just… asking.

(Y/N) swallowed, nodding stiffly. She wasn’t alright, not really. But she was here. And she had made her choice.

Silco leaned against the wall, arms crossed, watching but not interfering. It was her secret to tell. He’d already said as much.

(Y/N) clenched her hands into fists, then forced herself to relax. Just do it. Before you lose your nerve.

"I need to tell you something," she said, voice tight. "And before I do, I just- I need you to listen. Just listen. Don’t freak out."

Felicia narrowed her eyes. "That’s a terrible way to start a conversation."

Vander frowned. "(Y/N), what’s going on?"

(Y/N) took a deep breath, before raising her hands, steady despite the tremor in her fingers.

A spark of golden light flickered to life. Small, hesitant, barely enough to illuminate the dim space. It crackled like embers, dancing across her fingertips, warm and alive.

The room felt too quiet.

Felicia stiffened. Vander’s eyes widened, his lips parting slightly, but he said nothing.

(Y/N) forced herself to meet their gazes.

"I have magic," she said, barely above a whisper. "I’ve always had it. I just- I never told you because I couldn’t. Because it’s dangerous. Because-" Her throat tightened. "Because I was scared."

The silence stretched.

Felicia blinked. "What the fuck?"

Vander exhaled sharply, rubbing a hand down his face. "Shit."

(Y/N)’s stomach plummeted.

Felicia stood, staring at her like she was seeing her for the first time. "Magic," she repeated, slower this time, like she was still trying to process it. "You’re telling me you’ve had magic this whole time?"

(Y/N) nodded, bracing for the worst. For them to pull away. For them to tell her she wasn’t one of them.

Vander sighed heavily, but his expression wasn’t anger. Just… concern. "How long?"

"Since before I came here," she admitted. "Since I was born."

Felicia let out a sharp breath, raking a hand through her hair. "I don’t- shit, (Y/N), do you know what could’ve happened if someone else found out?"

"Yes," She snapped, frustration bubbling over. "Of course I know. Why do you think I kept it secret?"

Felicia opened her mouth, then shut it again, jaw tightening.

Vander rubbed his temples. "And Silco knew?"

(Y/N) hesitated, but Silco answered for her, his voice calm. "She told me first."

Felicia turned on him, eyes flashing. "And you didn’t think to tell us?"

Silco shrugged, utterly unbothered. "Not my secret."

Felicia made a strangled noise, but Vander put a hand on her shoulder before she could start yelling properly.

"Alright," Vander said, his voice steady in the way that made people listen. "Alright. We… we’ll figure this out." He looked at (Y/N) again, his gaze softer this time. "But you should’ve told us sooner."

(Y/N) swallowed hard. "I know."

Vander sighed, then did something she didn’t expect.

He reached out and put a hand on her head, ruffling her hair the way he always did when he was trying to be reassuring.

"We’re not gonna turn on you, (Y/N)," he said, quiet but firm. "You’re still one of us."

Her throat tightened painfully.

Felicia groaned, throwing herself back onto the crate with a dramatic flop. "Gods, I hate that I’m not mad at you."

(Y/N) let out a breath that was half a laugh, half relief. "Yeah?"

Felicia shot her a glare. "Yeah. Asshole."

Silco smirked from his spot against the wall. "That went better than expected."

...Felicia flipped him off...

Art post!

These are some of my older, finished pieces. Most of my art is posted on insta, but I do have two art books posted ony Wattpad too (both of which are in my bio). I have a lot more of my old art in those, all from the age of like 12, all the way to current time. I won't lie, a lot of it is cringe, but art is a journey. It would be more surprising if I wasn't cringe in my early teens, to be honest.

Anyway, here is my art! It's a bit old, but I will post more recent art in another post :}