Silco Fluff - Blog Posts

4 times you sit on silco’s lap & the 1 time he pulled you onto his lap

Warnings. Sexual positions. No specific reader gender/genitalia. Impregnation kink (sorry yall its bad again). Not toxic girl dad!Silco. Pet name

1

You and Silco danced around the empty bar, twirling and singing and chasing and slipping out of each other’s fingers. For the past hour the pair of you had been letting the loud music from the jukebox reverberate through your bones as you moved fluidly around the room.

Silco’s silky black hair was pulled back into a tiny bun at the back of his head. Sweat beaded at his hairline. The little droplets grew fat and ran down his cheek bones and disappeared down the sharp edge of his jaw as he chased your laughing body. 

“Crazy,” he mused to himself as the song ended and you finally let him twirl you in by the hand. Silco dipped you, watching your smile widen. He held you there as you examined him through your striking eyelashes. He leaned down slowly, sensually and let his eyes flicker between your eyes and your lips. You were caught in his trap, lips parted as your eyes locked on his lips.

Further, slower, he leaned down until you could feel his gasps of air on your lips. He parted his lips and tilted his head closing the gap between you-

Silco stood up and twirled you again. The sexy smirk on his lips made you forgive him just a little for being the incredible tease he is. “Bastard,” you cursed him with a wicked smile.

“A thirsty bastard,” he corrected smartly. Taking you by the hand, Silco led you to the bar and gestured dramatically to an empty bar stool.

He poured your favorite and slid it to you before making his own drink. Silco rounded the corner and brought the stool next to you closer to yours. He had just put his glass bck on the counter before you slid into to lap, facing him.

“Sly thing,” Silco chided, hands settling on your ass.

“You love it,” you replied. You pulled the hair tie out of Silco’s hair and watched it settle around his features perfectly. “Pretty boy.”

Silco practically purred at your words. He brought a hand up to cup your cheek and placed the other at the back of your neck. “I do love it- love you.”

“I love you too,” Silco repeated, sealing his words with a kiss.

2

“Don’t look at me like that,” Silco muttered, voice raspy with- was it. . . lust? “You know I can’t work with you watching me like that.”

You tilted your head. “Like what?”

“Don’t be coy.”

Silco didn’t look up as you rose from your spot from the couch. You heard his breathing turn shakier as you approached. Chuckling, you pulled the back of his chair until you could grasp Silco by the collar.

He spluttered- an endearingly pathetic noise you’d like to earn from him again- as you tore him from the endless plans, letters, and work sitting on his desk as he prepared for the future of Zaun. Silco didn’t actuallytry to stop you, though, despite his unintelligible grumbling.

You pushed him onto the newly acquired couch. His back hit the cushions and his raven-black hair spread around his head like a halo. Smiled as you committed the imagine of him so off-guard to memory. “You’ve been working so diligently,” you purr, raising on knee to rest between Silco’s hip and the sofa back. “And so hard. . .” You placed your other knee on the sofa and so lightly started grinding on Silco’s boner. “I think you deserve a break.”

Silco was the one watching you through his lashes now. “Is that right?” His heaving chest showed his anticipation despite his usual calm voice.

“Oh yeah,” you reply with a dangerous smile.

3

It was a late night- the crowd at the bar had been rowdy and took a while to herd all the drunkards out, leaving you an exasperated mess. Not to mention the fact that you were dealing with an astounding amount of Enforcers after Jinx had gone and stolen a couple expensive looking watches and necklaces for some reason unknown to you. All in all, you were beat.

After tossing a wad of cash to the other bartender, you bid him goodnight and headed up the stairs.

“I was wondering when you’d be up to see me,” Silco greeted you from his desk. “Come here, my dear.” 

He watches your movements with those sharp eyes of his. You perched yourself on the edge of his desk and let Silco rest his head against your chest. You ran your nails through his hair the way you knew he liked. “We should go get ready for bed,” you murmured, feeling his arms wrap lightly around your waist.

Silco heaved a sigh. “I have work to do.”

It was your turn to sigh as you pushed off the desk. Silco looked up, brow arching, at you. His confusion waned as you straddled him, wrapping your arms around his neck. You felt the man under you shudder as he exhaled, stress slowly easing out of his body as you pressed soft kisses to the oh so fragile skin behind his ear. “You can do your work tomorrow after you get some sleep.”

Clearly your tender embrace had weakened Silco’s resolve because all he did in response to your statment was pull you impossibly closer to him. “I suppose you’re right,” Silco finally muttered into your shoulder.

4

Jinx and Silco were currently in disagreement over who would do Jinx’s hair, when they would be doing it, and the hairstyle Jinx wanted. For an eight year old, the little blue haired girl knew what she wanted. And it was that Sevika stayed as far as humanly possible away from the eight year old.

So that was why Silco had convinced you to go to barber near Benzo’s old shop. Something about ‘not being anle to contain such rage and emotion in such tiny body’ alone.

Truth be told, you weren’t well educated in children handling. Working with Silco and the traitor for most of your life gave you practically no time to interact with people under sixteen. Jinx had taken a liking to you- probably because you were one of the people she saw the most because of your relationship to her adoptive father. (On the certificate, you were also listed as a guardian.) So being able to style the girl’s hair as she liked would be a good skill to add to your already wide-ranging knowledge.

The two of you paid as much attention to the barber as possible. Jinx had selected a simple three strand braid that you got the hang of off the bat. Silco? Not so much, but the effort was there!

When you paid and left, Jinx was so happy with her hair and so convincing that she was given permission to play with the barber’s twin son and daughter. Silco had pressed a handful of coin into Jinx’s hand and told her to be home in two hours.

“You’re going soft,” you mused, jutting your hip into Silco as the two of you left. “It’s endearing.”

Silco recoiled. “I am not. Inconceivable.”

When you scoffed, Silco turned to you with his eyes narrowed. “Something to say, trouble?”

“Nah,” you drawled. “It’s… It’s nice to see this side of you again.”

Your lover wrapped an arm around your waist and led the two of you back home. “I haven’t felt more content in a long time,” he finally admits. Emotion made his voice gravely.

“Yeah.” You continued to walk, falling into silence. 

“I like watching you with her.”

Silco’s glinting eyes are already locked on your gaze when you look up. “Yeah?” You ask, suggesting smile beginning to pull up at the corner of your lips.

“Yeah. It makes me wish I could. . . fuck one into you,” he mutters.

Your eyebrows are higher than your hairline when he speaks. “Sil, you- you know I can’t-“

The dark lust in Silco’s eyes lighten. “That doesn’t mean I can’t fuck you like you could carry my children,” he tells you, an edge of an emotion you can’t quite put a finger on.

Silco pushes open the door to The Last Drop and flicks on one of the light switches. He turns to see you sitting on the table of a booth, watching him with an expression so vacant Silco wonders if this conversation is what finally sends you running. “Talk to me.”

Continuing to say nothing, you pat the table next to you. Silco pulls himself up beside you and examines your face carefully. He is apprehensive as you slide into his lap wordlessly and wrap your legs around his waist. You trace the calloused pad of your thumb from the very bottom of Silco’s scar surrounding his eyes. It’s when you near the tip-top of the marred flesh does Silco grasp your wrist.

“Speak to me, my dear,” Silco repeats. “What are you thinking? What do you want me to do?”

Silco lets your wrist go without much resistance. You tangle your fingers through his short hair. “I want,” you begin slowly, hearing his breathing cease entirely. “You to fuck me like you could knock me up.”

It takes Silco several seconds to compute your statement before leaning in to fucking devour your lips.

5

The bar was booming tonight.

Round after round, table after table, drink after drink. In informal terms: you were fucking slammed and the crowd wasn’t thinning out.

It’d been this busy for at least the past three hours and the pain in your feet and legs had been so God awful that you couldn’t wven feel them anymore. And the poor bartenders could barely open their mouths without someone spitting out orders or tossing coins or just pestering them.

You sighed. Nights like these made you really question your love of the damn building. 

An hour later, you could see a glimpse of the light at the end of the tunnel. With an end to the night in your near future, you found yourself walking a little faster: a little more eager to get the people more drunk and gone.

It was another whole hour before you were almost finished with the cleaning. All you had left to do was wipe down the counter and tables, put the chairs up on the table, and mop.

Silco finally slunk down the stairs to see you and the last, most desperate bartender mopping up. He slid into a booth and rested his head on his palm as he watched you.

When the two of you were officially done cleaning, Silco fished out a bag of coins from one of his pockets. “Here, kid,” he said before tossing the pouch at the awed bartender.

“I- Thank you sir,” the girl said gratefully, eyes flickering between you and Silco. You smiled at her tiredly.

“Good night, Mimi,” you told her.

Silco watched Mimi smile brightly at you- the significantly kinder of the couple- and nod excitedly. “Good night, y/n! Thank you again sir, and good night!”

You came to a stop in front of Silco and tugged your apron off. “How are you?”

Silco heaved a sigh. He reached out to you and turned you away from him. Then Silco pulled you down onto his lap. He comically scooched back until his back was against the wall and his and your legs tangled on the rest of the booth. “Better.”

As Silco wrapped his hands around your waist, you felt your back decompress as you leaned against the love of your life. Your eyes fluttered shut, heavy with sleep. “I love sitting on your lap,” you confess.

Silco hums, amused.

“Best seat in the whole damn house,” you say, yawning.

Before Silco realizes it, you’re asleep. He doesn’t want to get up because theres a chance you’ll wake up, but Silco also wants to get his love to bed.

He just rests his head on your shoulder and lets himself have this moment.

"dear wife of mine" - Young!Silco x Reader

Notes: This felt so heartwarming to write! Whenever I write young!Silco, I always listen to my young silco playlist, which you can find here, if you are interested Warnings/Rating: mentions of a mine accident, minor injury, one use of y/n, use of the word 'wife' but no physical descriptors, so you could easily swap it out to husband | E for everyone Wordcount: 2.3k Synopsis/Request: can I ask for young silco fluff with that line "do I need to remind you that we're not actually married" where reader and silco are dating for a while now and there were so accident in mile where silco works and reader went to find out what happen but need to lie that they are married to got some information, silco turned to be fine obviously and find out the lie and taste the reader about it and it became their little joke between them and their friends

Masterlist | Dialogue Prompt list

“Let me through!” you struggled against the throngs of people, swinging around wildly, eyes wide with fear as you fought your way to the front of the masses. 

When you had heard there had been another collapse at the mine, your heart had stopped. Now, however, as you squeezed through other desperate friends and family, it hammered against your ribs, your blood rushing so feverishly through your veins that the sound of it blocked out the shouts and cries of people desperate to know if their loved one was one of those being carried out on poor excuses for stretchers. 

You staggered into someone with a clipboard, grasping their shoulders and repeating his name over and over. They were trying to soothe you, you think, one of their hands coming to rest on your shoulder, but you struggled to hear them over the sound of your own heartbeat. 

“Has anyone found him?” you asked, trying to fight down the bile in your throat. 

“Are you his legal next of kin?” they asked irritatingly, as if that really mattered right now.

You dug your nails into the palm of your hand, “He’s my husband,” you lied desperately, shoving your left hand deep in your pocket so they wouldn’t question the lack of a ring. 

They flipped through the tattered sheets on their board, seeming to do so in near slow motion, as you pressed them to hurry up when you heard it – “y/n?” 

You spun around, almost knocking the poor worker over, eyes searching over the heads of the crowd quickly before you spotted him, pushing his way through them all to reach you. Your knees felt like they were about to give way as you tumbled into Silco’s arms, clinging to his jacket tightly, squeezing the fabric between your fingers and burying your cheek into his shoulder, breathing in deeply. “Shh, shh. I am fine, I’m right here,” he soothed you, rubbing soothing trails over your back, but you could feel the tremor in his hands.  

You pulled back, hands coming to cup his cheeks, gently turning his head from side to side and checking him over for damage, eyes widening when you saw the cut slowly dribbling blood down the side of his forehead. He plucked your hands from his face with his own, squeezing them gently as he forced you to meet his gaze – “It’s nothing, I am fine. Me and Vander are both fine,” he repeated for you, helping to ground you in the chaos of it all. 

“Don’t you ever scare me like that again,” you muttered and he chuckled, pressing a lingering kiss to your knuckles. 

“I am glad to see you found your husband, I suggest you both get out of here before it gets even busier.” You jumped slightly at the voice over your shoulder, having forgotten about the poor aid worker entirely. You nodded to them, offering them a meek thank you before turning back to your boyfriend, brows furrowing at his cocked eyebrow and smug smirk. 

“Your husband?” he repeated, the smugness in his voice near impossible to miss. 

You rolled your eyes, fighting the urge to hit his chest given what he had just escaped, “They would only give information to legal next of kin,” you sighed, taking his hand and tugging him gently to follow you away from the masses at the mine entrances. 

“If you say so,” he shrugged as he followed you with little resistance, biting back a laugh when you turned back to him with a look that could kill. 

“Why does Silco look like he’s the cat that got the cream?” Felicia asked, her lips quirking up into a confused smile. 

You turned to follow her eyes, watching as your incredibly smug looking boyfriend swung round the railing at the bottom of the stairs, swaggering over to you. You rolled your eyes and spun back around on your bar stool to ignore him, “Don’t ask,” you warned, sighing. 

“How is my wife feeling this morning?” he purred in your ear as he sidled up to you, hand resting on your lower back as he leaned against the bar beside you. 

Felicia’s eyes widened, pausing mid drink at the pet name, glancing between the two of you like she was watching a tennis match. “I’m sorry,” she coughed a little, putting her orange juice down on the bar and rubbing at her aching stomach, “have I missed a major life update?” 

You sighed, closing your eyes with embarrassment. “No, you have not.” 

“Come on my dear, you seemed so pleased with it yesterday,” Silco pushed with a cocky grin, picking up your drink and taking a sip through your straw, raising his eyebrow in a silent challenge as your eyes flicked upward in annoyance. 

“I think you can let it go now, Sil,” you hummed, snatching your drink from his hands and frowning when you realised he had drunk the last of it. 

“Is this you asking for a divorce?” he feigned hurt, fingers pressing against his chest as he pouted. The mischievous glint in his eyes gave him away, however.

“Do I need to remind you that we are not actually married?” you huffed a laugh, sliding off your stool and ducking out of his reach as you slid around the bar for a refill, topping up Felicia’s at the same time as she watched you both with a satisfied smirk.

“Not yet,” he purred, a sly grin tugging at his lips as you nearly dropped the carton of juice, accidentally spilling some over the edge of your glass. He hummed with satisfaction before pushing away from the bar with a mock salute, “Vander needs me out the back, I shall leave you ladies too it.” He turned and sauntered away, leaving you to roll your eyes at Felicia’s wiggling eyebrows. 

“He has it so bad for you,” she teased, her voice lilting in a playful sing-song tone. 

“Shut up and drink your juice,” you waved her off, failing to hide your smile as she snorted a laugh. 

“Have you and Silco got hitched without telling me?” Vanders rumbling voice in the otherwise empty bar made you jump, and you nearly dropped the glass you were drying.

“Gods, not you as well,” you groaned, putting the glass away and picking up the next one. 

“All he has gone on about all afternoon is “my wife this, and that dear wife of mine that,” he laughed, picking up a towel of his own to help you through the stack ready for opening. “So if you haven’t tied the knot on the sly, he must have someone on the side he is being very sloppy about,” he peered up at you, already knowing the answer. 

“I had to say he was my husband at the mines yesterday to find out where he was, and he won’t let it go,” you sighed as Vander laughed.

“You don’t sound as annoyed about it as you mean to,” he pointed out, smirking as he plucked another glass off the rack. You shot him a confused look and he shrugged nonchalantly. “I think you actually like it,” he teased, his voice dropping so as not to be overheard. He broke into a grin when you tensed up,

“We’ve only been going out a year and a bit,” you countered, eyes avoiding him. 

“Officially,” Vander pointed out, leaning against the bar top and throwing his towel over his shoulder, observing you. “Let’s not forget the dance you two did for a good year before that.” You looked at him disgruntled. “Besides, you’re not denying it.”

You turned away from him, trying to get away from the interrogation as you crouched down to stack the clean glasses beneath the bar. “Maybe I’m not,” you mumbled, “but he’s only doing it to tease me, nothing more.” 

Vander didn’t see your frown as you continued to stack glasses, just as you didn’t see him lean back over the bar to shoot a ‘told you so’ look to Silco as he sat tucked away at the top of the stairs, listening in. 

“I’m giving you the rest of the night off, go dance,” Vander leaned down to call into your ear. 

You looked around confused, the bar was the busiest it had been in a month, and that was saying something. It seemed ready to burst at the seams – people dancing, drinking, celebrating – you put it down to people wanting to shake off yesterday's events. 

“It’s far too busy,” you called back, shaking your head, “you’d be swamped.” As if on queue, Felicia squeezed around he bar,

“I got it!” she called, struggling to tie her apron around her. You shook your head again,

“Absolutely not, you need to sit down, Connol would kill me,” you looked at her seriously, trying to herd her back around and out into a booth. 

“He could damn well try,” she insisted, pushing back against you. “Now, are you really going to fight a pregnant lady?” she raised her eyebrow and you sighed exasperated. 

“I’ll take a 15 minute break, then I’ll be back,” you said pointedly, pulling the apron from around your waist and rolling your eyes as you slid past them both to hang it up

“That should do it,” you thought you heard Felicia mumble, turning back around only to see her serving a patron. You shook it off as you pushed through people to try and find your boyfriend. 

“There you are!” Silco called, beaming as he pulled you into him. “I thought Vander would never set you free.” You leaned to press a kiss to his cheek, and he shifted to wrap an arm around your waist. “Come with me,” he murmured into your ear. 

You cocked your head, confused as he tugged you towards the stairs, missing how Vander’s eyes followed you as you disappeared. 

“I have to go back in 15 minutes, Sil, I don’t have time fo-” 

“Get your head out of the gutter, that isn’t where we’re going,” he stopped you, laughing as he pulled you up the stairs to the roof, letting go of your hand to sit himself down at the edge of the rooftop, long legs dangling over the side as he leaned back on his hands, looking out over the lights of Piltover, where the smog hadn’t quite obscured them. 

You observed him, watching how carefree he looked for just a moment, his chest rising with each deep inhale of marginally cleaner air, drifting to the small bandage that was still stuck to the cut on his head. Your chest clenching as you remembered your dread. 

“I wish we could just stay up here forever,” you muttered as you joined him, leaning into his side. He hummed in agreement. 

“Just think, this will all be ours one day, as free as those across the river” he gestured loosely to the lanes below you and you chuckled. 

“All hail the king of Zaun,” you teased, nudging his shoulder as he snorted a laugh, eyes not quite finding yours. “What’s wrong?” your voice dropped, more seriously, as you searched his face. 

“Yesterday made me realise something,” he started, tongue darting out to wet his lips, “and then I walked out of the rubble to hear myself being called your husband and it cemented it for me.” You stared at him, your thoughts spinning as you tried to connect the dots. He leaned further into you for a moment, fingers fishing into his pocket and pulling out a small peeling, banged up box. Your heart stopped. “Nothing down here is promised, as much as I am trying to change that. And changing it all would mean nothing without having someone to do it all for. Life for us is too short to not take what you want and run with it, so,” he flicked the box open, revealing a simple, gold band. It was well worn, but beautiful, “How would you like me to stop teasing you, and make it proper, dear wife of mine,” he smiled bashfully, his uncharacteristic nerves coming through as he plucked the ring from the cushion and rolled it between his fingers, finally looking up to meet your eyes. 

You simply stared at him for a moment, eyes burning with salty tears before you nodded, resisting the urge to surge forward and kiss him senseless, lest you both fell from the rooftop. “Gods, yes!” 

He visibly relaxed as you choked out your answer, breaking into a wide grin as he reached for your hand, sliding the slightly-too-big ring onto your finger. “It was my parents,” he mumbled quickly, “we can get it adjusted,” he huffed a laugh as you twirled it around the skin, unable to peel your eyes away from it. Finally, you leaned forward pressing your lips against his, cupping his face and pulling you into him. He could feel the cool metal against his skin and grinned, pulling away to press his forehead against yours.

“I think your 15 minutes is nearly up,” he joked and you laughed, a breathy sound that made his heart squeeze. “Come on,” he pushed himself up, offering you his hand to pull you up with him. 

“We will tell everyone once we are closed up,” you murmured to him as you headed back down the stairs, “It’s too rammed to kick up a fuss now.” 

“Oh darling, why do you think everyone is here?” he asked lowly, pulling you into his side as he pushed the door back open. A huge banner with congratulations scrawled across it in Felicia’s artistic style was draped across the bar, everyone waiting with baited breath until Silco nodded subtly beside you, erupting into cheers immediately after. Everyone you knew downing drinks and rushing to hug you as you were swept up in it all. 

“I love you,” you muttered into his ear as you pulled yourself into his side, spinning the metal around your finger absentmindedly. 

“I love you more, wife of mine.” 

Arcane Silco x Reader One-shot - I Trust You

Synopsis: After the incident with Vander, you find what remains of the Silco you left at The Last Drop the night before. Now heart shattered, terrified, and close to death, he grips on tight to the only thing he has left as you try your best to comfort him and aid his wounds.

Young!Silco, Pre S1, Implied Fem!Reader but could be read GN, mentions of injury, blood, typical canon violence, knife mentioned, Hurt/Comfort, angst, established relationship, Medic!Reader

I've been inspired after wasting DAYS reading Silco fics, thank you fellow Arcane fanfic writers ❤️ Maybe I'll write more for the fandom?????

The cracked cobblestone paths of the cramped Undercity clack loudly under the worn soles of your boots. Your medic bag hangs loosely over your shoulder, the parched leather splitting at the seams as you toy with the fraying material between your nails.

You don't need to be told that tonight's highly-anticipated Uprising was a failure. You can judge its success based solely on the amount of rioters you saw in your office today; chipped teeth, brutal burn wounds, broken limbs, concussions. The unrest between Zaun and the ever-oppressive Piltover thickens with each passing minute, Enforcers becoming more violent and Zaunites only more angry.

Tonight's rally was meant to be the turning point, Zaun would fight back and push past the bridge, securing their futures with an iron grip and hearts full of hope. Vander spoke of it just yesterday evening, eyes gleaming with ambition saccharine sweet as he raised his glass of ale high in cheer. Silco, your Silco, with a smile so sure, so wide, you were certain you'd never seen him so excited.

"You're sure you can't make it?" He's asking you, shoulder jostling your own as he slides into the seat beside you at the bar. The cacophony of cheer around the bar following Vander's inspiring speech seems to die down and reduce to a droning chatter of voices and clinking dish ware.

Your eyes peel away from Vander — who is serving patrons left and right with an energy so radiant you can't help but shake your head at him, a small smile gracing your features — to meet Silco's sea-foamy green ones, peering down at you from the slant of his nose.

"You know riots mean people tend to get hurt. I'll be more needed at the med center, that's where I can do my part." You say, and it's true. The Undercity lacks in abundance, especially lacking in individuals with medical knowledge, much less an affordable one, or even a doctor you can trust. You've become an important addition to The Children of Zaun, and even more important to the citizens you look out for.

Silco nods, understanding, albeit disappointed that you won't be by his side. He wraps an arm loosely around your shoulders, pulling you in so he can press a chaste kiss to your temple.

"I know. This will be a big one, an important one. We'll be needing you down here."

You smiled softly, "You'll be careful, won't you?"

"As careful as I always am." Silco smirked.

"Great, so I'll be seeing you tomorrow night in my office is what I'm hearing?"

"Well, when you make it sound so scandalous I couldn't possibly miss out, my dear."

You're rolling your eyes at him, nudging him back with your adjacent shoulder as he chuckles. A peaceful silence overcomes the two of you as you soak in your surroundings at the bustling bar. Felicia is bickering with Vander at the counter, her vibrant purple braid flicked over her shoulder and Vander is laughing at her playful scowl.

"What will you do, if you succeed?" You ask suddenly.

Silco doesn't hesitate a second, "Not if. We will. We must succeed." His brows furrow for a moment, "I don't know what I will do. I'll come back for you, and then I suppose we will figure it out together like we always do. You trust me, don't you?"

You can't help but grin at that, "Of course I trust you."

Trust has always been one of the most important values holding you and Silco together. No matter what, you would always trust each other, to the ends of the earth. And you'd never stop reminding the other.

Your next thought is interrupted by Benzo, at least six ales down.

"There will be celebrations all through Zaun tomorrow night just you wait! In just another twenty four hours we will be commemorating our victories with each and every Zaunite throughout the city!"

But, as you make your way home it becomes blatantly apparent that there are no celebrations raging through Zaun tonight, there was no victory, and instead just an evening full of shattered hearts and broken bones.

Needless to say, Silco never did make it to your office tonight, and now as you walk back home on tired feet in the early hours of the dawn you find yourself wondering what state he could be in.

Silco may not be the strongest, but he's quick, and he's so painfully smart you can bet he hadn't been caught by Enforcers — but then if not carted away to Stillwater, why hadn't you seen him at the med center as you usually do after a riot? The nerves bite at your system, and you can only hope he is safe and sound at The Last Drop where you left him yesterday night, waiting for you to find in a few hours. First, you know you need to sleep off the fatigue of tending to the injured all night long.

You turn right into the alleyway that cuts through the block of stacked houses and cross the street to your home. As the door comes into view it is then that you feel a prickling sensation of unease creeping into your very being. You remove your hood from your head, peering at your surroundings cautiously in an effort to calm yourself. There's no one around. Nothing to explain the worry woven into your deepest instincts as you quicken your steps to the entrance of your abode.

The single key fished from the pocket of your med bag rattles in the rickety doorknob before the lock unlatches. The wood swings open with a creak.

There's water everywhere. Puddles of the polluted brown liquid spreads from the front entrance. It trails through the house where cabinets and drawers are left ajar and furniture lies knocked over on the uneven floor. You freeze in horror at the state of your belongings before spotting the streaks of blood on the floor and the counters of your kitchen. Whoever had trespassed had done it in a panicked struggle, things haphazardly left out all around the property. You huff a swear before dropping your bag as silently as you can at the front door, your tiredness suddenly swept away and replaced with unfiltered adrenaline. Survival-mode kicks in, and you're creeping with predator-like stealth to the kitchen. A peek into the open drawer confirms your suspicions, and whoever had broken in had stolen the large kitchen knife you stored and was likely wielding the weapon somewhere in your home.

You go for the next best thing, a rusted but still sharp pair of cooking scissors which you grasp tight in your palm, blade poised.

Following the trail of blood and water, your head swiveling vigilantly in every which direction, you make your way up the short flight of stairs to the second floor. Your bedroom door is wide open, a handprint of blood smeared across the edge of it in a rush. You take a deep, shuddering breath before slipping through the threshold.

The bed is left tidied and made, moth eaten sheets folded over the top of the frayed duvet and curtains billowing softly from the cold breeze which spills through the crack in the window. It's all in the state that you left it in. Your brows furrow in confusion before spotting the faint light which emanates from the crack under the adjoining bathroom door.

Your hands tremble as you creep towards the door, wondering if what lies behind it is the means to your fateful end. Teeth wearing into the flesh of your bottom lip, you stop and lean against the wall beside the bathroom. You listen, ears straining hard to hear through the barrier before you catch it.

It's the faint sound of someone crying, notable only by the quiet, shuddering breaths and wet sniffling that periodically breaks the whimpering noise.

It's then that you hear the low whisper interrupting the soft sobbing, the voice tinged with abysmal pain and fear, "Fuck—,"

Silco.

You're not even thinking as the scissors fall from your grasp, hitting the floor with a metallic clang before you wrench open the door and burst inside, heart thrumming viscously in the cage of your chest as you recognize your lover's voice.

Your breath catches hard in your throat at the sight before you; Silco, curled tightly in the basin of your bathtub, head to toe in soaking wet clothes stained with blood which drips from his face. His wet black hair hangs disheveled over half of his features, cloaking him in the raven locks. Your missing kitchen knife is clasped rigidly in between both hands, blade sticking straight out and bobbing with his labored breaths. His one visible eye widens in what you think is fear and his whole body freezes up at the sight of you, his legs scramble against the edge of the tub like he's trying to get away from you but all you can think is, he's hurt. You have to fix him.

"Silco," you rasp, reaching for him frantically with tears brimming in your eyes but before you know it he's yelling, pointing the blade of the knife at you and waving it around haphazardly.

"Stop—" He's crying, but the syllable comes out guttural and hoarse, "Don't touch me!"

You freeze, hands up to show you mean no harm and falling back on your knees to be eye level with him.

You swallow before you try to say anything, but the lump in your throat only grows ten-fold.

"Silco," you try, tentatively. "What happened?"

"Felicia's dead." Is what he manages to gasp, teeth gritting hard and eyes squeezing shut, another stray tear falling down his face.

You don't realize you're treating him like a patient until you're halfway done examining him with just a glance. His nails are bent and broken like he had scratched desperately at an unrelenting force, the torn collar of his jacket reveals blooms of a deep purple encompassing the surface of his throat and neck, blood pours from what you could see of his cheek, down his jaw and off the point of his chin. His eyes are swollen and bloodshot and his nose is definitely crooked— likely broken and the bruising is beginning to swell beneath his eyes. It doesn't take a genius to tell he had been asphyxiated, and beaten, hard.

Felicia. Felicia is dead. You're trying to hold onto your resolve, face relaxed as to not alarm him any further but your heart wants to cry out in agony. Another good soul, lost to a helpless cause. Another loved one, gone. You want to ask where Vander is, where Benzo is. Whatever it is that happened at the Uprising has clearly shaken Silco to the core, nearly unrecognizable with fear and shame and you worry that if you break down now nothing will be left to hold the rest of him together.

"I don't know where to go. I don't have anyone else." Silco is rambling now, voice sore and body shaking. "I can't go back. I can't go back, he'll finish me off."

"Silco, who? What's happened to you? I don't understand—" You can feel the tears spilling over and you choke on a sob, terrified for the man you love.

Silco shakes his head rapidly, he opens his mouth like he'll try to explain but is cut off by a cry so anguished you feel your own soul shattering. His shoulders tremble and you realize he must be freezing, his clothes saturated and the chill of the night air permeating his figure.

"I'll be right back. I'm going to get you a blanket and I'll come right back." you say gently.

He nods and hangs his head low, avoiding eye contact.

You retreat to the bedroom and pull your duvet right off the bed, also grabbing the forgotten glass of water left on the nightstand from the night before. You stand at the threshold of the bathroom peering in as non threatening as you can before taking a deep breath.

"I need you to put the knife down." you whisper.

Silco glances at the object in his hand and stares at it in shock for a split second, like he had not even realized he'd armed himself with your household items.

"I would never hurt you, Silco."

He takes a deep breath, and flips the blade before handing it over to you, handle out.

"Thanks," you whisper, placing the knife on the bathroom counter across from you. You trade it for the glass of water. "Here. Can I touch you?"

Silco takes a deep breath, eyes shut before nodding and wiping crudely at his cheek with the back of his hand, the skin pulling away wet with his tears.

You sit at the edge of the tub and pull the thick duvet into the basin, pausing over Silco's soaked figure.

"Do you want to take your clothes off? We can get you dry and warm."

He shakes his head no, but does pull off the bulky jacket, the wet fabric slapping against the surface of the porcelain bathtub. You drape the blanket over his shoulders, wrapping it around to his front and tucking it around him the best you can manage. He takes a long sip of the water, grimacing as he swallows and you try to catch a glimpse of the bruising on his neck.

"It's okay, I got you." You whisper. "It's okay if you don't want to talk about it, but I need to know what's wrong so I can fix it. You can even just point." You say, hand massaging tenderly over his blanketed shoulder.

"I-I can't see out of my left eye," He says, voice low and gravelly, "it hurts."

"Can I look?"

Silco lifts a hand and runs it through his long hair, pushing most of it back out of his face but a few unruly tresses fall back over his forehead. You can't help the gasp that falls from your lips as you survey the gashes running across his eye and mutilating the whole expanse of the area. Blood oozes from the wounds and the flesh swells bright red and pink and you know it's already infected. You can't save the eye, that much is evident.

"I need to clean it before the infection spreads any further, I'm sorry." You cringe, "It's going to hurt but you could die if I don't treat it now."

He nods. Silco seems to be of sounder mind now. Not relaxed by any means, but his breathing is controlled, his good eye is focused and he's understanding you.

You turn around to retrieve your personal medical supplies in the linen closet and find the bottle of antiseptic and gauze, when you turn around you meet Silco's gaze, his brows pressed together with worry and mouth pressed into a deep frown. The blood from his eye drips on the fabric of your blanket and stains it the color of rust.

"It was Vander." he says.

You freeze up, nearly dropping the bottle, "Vander did this to you?" you ask incredulously.

Silco nods. "I didn't mean to get her killed. I didn't mean it, none of this was supposed to happen, I—" he breaks off into silent tears again and you gently hush him.

You've never seen him cry in the many years you've spent together, now to witness it so many times in one night you have no idea how to handle it.

"It's okay, you can explain later. I trust you." You assure.

You tilt his chin to look at you and wipe the tears from his face.

"I trust you." You say again.

"Okay." Silco appeases, "I trust you, too."

It takes nearly an hour to clean out his wounds, by then the sun is beginning to rise, a blue haze filtering in through the windows and casting a glow on everything the light touches. Silco has stripped from his wet clothes and showered, but had asked sweetly if you would wait for him in the bathroom to which you comply.

He changes into dry clothes he had left here ages ago and now lies in your bed, curled up on his side. The blankets are tucked over him and he lays silently beside you while you card your fingers through his hair. His sighs against the skin of your shoulder.

You know he wants to sleep but fears the playback behind his eyes of the events of the failed Uprising, but his body can't physically stand to move anymore. His injured eye is packed under gauze and medical tape and you can only hope you did all that you could.

His eyes flicker up to yours, "I'm sorry," he whispers. "I owe you a proper explanation. Thank you, for caring for me."

"I'll always care for you, Silco. You don't owe me anything, this is what I'm here for. You can tell me when you're ready."

"Okay." He replies, stroking your cheek with the backs of his split knuckles before tangling gently in the hair at the nape of your neck. You lay like that together for a while, you drifting in and out of consciousness as the adrenaline wears off and the chaos of the day becomes a memory. You trace the sharp angular features of Silco's face lovingly, pressing a sleepy kiss to the corner of his mouth. Your mind wanders to Vander, to Felicia, to Felicia's two beautiful children and Benzo and The Last Drop.

You wonder if things will ever be the same again and your heart aches at the silent answer. You know you'll never be able to forgive the man who hurt Silco like this; destroyed him at his very core and you know he will never be the same again.

"We can't trust anyone now. Only each other." Silco says, voice thick with pain.

"I'll always trust you." You reply softly, "Sleep, Silco. You need to rest. We will figure it out in a few hours."

Your eyes drift closed after that, the last of your sentence trailing off as you succumb to your exhaustion. The last thing you see is the pretty green-blue eye of your lover, half lidded and glistening in the light of the sunrise.

"I love you."