Tumgik
sxlco · 1 year
Text
Tumblr media
<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3
1K notes · View notes
sxlco · 1 year
Text
The first drawing in 2023... I drew it while watching the cartoon, to beautiful songs.
Tumblr media
2K notes · View notes
sxlco · 1 year
Photo
Tumblr media Tumblr media
“I will start anew”
I swear, they knew what they were doing with his design in this film and at this point I’m entirely predictable in my interests 😪
Happy Holidays, y'all
2K notes · View notes
sxlco · 1 year
Text
ebenezer scrooge is literally [further statement redacted]
1K notes · View notes
sxlco · 1 year
Photo
Tumblr media
256 notes · View notes
sxlco · 2 years
Text
i’m sure by now a lot of you have seen the jason spisak situation playing out online, and i want to make it clear that i love silco and you can pry him out of my cold, dead hands but you will never catch me supporting jason again.
38 notes · View notes
sxlco · 2 years
Text
Here is a lil WIP to start out your week right
Tumblr media
I was kicking my feet and giggling while I drew this
650 notes · View notes
sxlco · 2 years
Text
Let me wipe the soot off your cheek while you gaze at me lovingly, pls sir
Tumblr media
Also miner!Silco content because I haven’t seen anything on that despite it being a huge part of his backstory. I went through several ideas on what he would wear working, but I vetoed a gas mask and any protective gear because I feel like they didn’t care enough to protect the people working
852 notes · View notes
sxlco · 2 years
Text
Tumblr media
Entrepreneur. This one's for you @chickenparm, for being an amazing person.
3K notes · View notes
sxlco · 2 years
Text
AHHHH THIS IS SO BEAUTIFUL I HAVE BUTTERFLIES
Tumblr media
Jaded (Silco/gn!Reader)
here's a little soulmate morsel for @sxlco that involves having names and also Act 1 Silco when he's at his most-smokin'-hot.
Silco/gn!Reader 2,264 Words - SFW Soulmate AU (Names)
---
The first time you heard the name whispered in the streets was just after you’d reached adulthood and had really begun to make a bit of a name for yourself as hired muscle. Muscle’s a loose term, your real talents shine in moments of subterfuge and silent takedowns, but your pockets are full enough from a steady stream of work that you’re in no way as poor as you’d once been.
It had been mentioned quietly, exchanged between card games consisting of trusted individuals, a vague sort of recruitment that you silently steer away from. Not because you’re uninterested in what’s being offered, but because the name on your wrist matches that of the one leaving the woman’s mouth at the table.
The moment those two syllables leave her lips, and her gray eyes catch you walking closer with the intent to join their game, you veer away and decide that perhaps you’ll frequent a different bar today.
It doesn’t quiet down, but it grows no louder. Over the following weeks, you hear it from multiple angles, with promises of change to the Undercity, the rising of the Nation of Zaun, a way to strike back at Piltover once and for all. You’ve heard it all before, as a child running between the legs of adults as they shouted at two men standing on a rickety platform, both of whom you remember well enough.
Vander and Silco.
You’ve met Vander before. Worked with him, worked for him, taking odd jobs and making sure certain events and business dealings happen without a hitch. It’s a working relationship, one you’d say is rather comfortable. There’s only a single tie that holds you to him, one that’s yet again linked to the name you carry.
Vander had recognized you the moment you gave him your name, you know it just by how he’d said it, but neither of you had broached the subject. What’s done is done, and at that point you’d known for a while that Silco was dead and gone. It was an accepted fact and you’d moved past your mourning in favor of keeping yourself alive in his stead.
And then, as you’re scooping your winnings for the evening into a pouch and waving off the grumbling of the losers, a hand clamps down on your shoulder and squeezes. The voice of the woman is low and deliberate, even as you tie the bag up and refuse to turn to her.
“We need to talk. Alone.”
A business opportunity is how she offers it, but the way her eyes flick to your wrist says infinitely more than her words ever could. It’s presented as recruitment for this new gang, one that seeks to right the wrongs that had been done in the time between the last uprising and the current day. Instead of asking about it, or even telling her an answer, you lean against the alley wall and level her with a scrutinizing eye.
“Does he know?”
“Not yet, but he’ll find out. You’re not an unknown like you think you are.”
Sevika is her name, given to you while she corralled you to this alleyway for this friendly chat. She leans on the opposite wall, cigarette burning in her mouth and arms crossed over her chest. It’s not defensive, you can tell by the lax tapping over her fingers against the opposite bicep. The job offer doesn’t dictate how much longer you’ll live, and that’s why you blow out a long breath and shake your head.
“Not my table, not my game. I don’t want a part of it.”
“At the end of the day, he’s going to ask who I talked to. Your name is going to come up and he’s going to hunt you down, one way or another.”
“What, you think he’s going to kill me?”
Sevika laughs and shakes her head, the ember of her cigarette trailing in the dark with the movement, “Nothing like that. Man seems to covet the name on his wrist like it’s the last coin he’s got. Coming with me will make it easier, but he’s going to be pissed that you turned me down when you know who it’s all for.”
Hearing Silco’s alive should have made you happy, but instead there’s a strange feeling of anticipation in your chest as she gives you a half-hearted wave and walks away. You watch her back shrink, and wonder when it’s going to hit you that your soulmate isn’t as dead as you think he is.
You don’t go home that night, instead opting to pick up a job and work through until the sun rises. Surely he’ll give you a few day’s reprieve before he comes knocking and demanding things of you that you’re not sure you have left to give. So, as the street lights flick on and the neon ones dim, you open the door to your apartment and stare openly at the man sitting languidly on your ragged couch, reading through a book from your shelf with disinterested eyes.
“That didn’t take you long.”
“I make it a point to know things. No piece of information, large or small, is insignificant. So, imagine my surprise when Sevika comes to me and tells me she’s put a feeler out for another recruit for my cause to someone that shares a name with the one I’ve been waiting for. Finding you was simple enough when I knew who to look for.”
Waiting for. Those two words rankle at you, because of course he’s been waiting. You, on the other hand, have had nothing to wait for, and you tell him so with far too much venom in your voice, “At least you had something to look forward to. Vander himself confirmed you were dead.”
“Vander didn’t throw enough dirt into the hole he tried to put me in. All his life, Vander’s been doing things half-assed and poorly planned. Killing me was just another knot on the long string of his failures - and decidedly not the last.”
The book snaps closed, the embossed title showing it to be a history book that you’d kept since you were a child. Silco examines it for a long moment, turning it this way and that to catch the light on the faux gold before he sets it pointedly down on the crate you use for a coffee table.
“You knew she was recruiting for me. Why did you say no?”
It’s a simple enough question, with an equally simple answer. With less finesse than you usually have, you drop to sit on the opposite end of your sofa from him, prop an elbow on the back, and give him all the disinterest you can muster, “Been doing alright without you so far.”
That gives him pause. His fingers barely brush the book that he’s set down, oddly-colored eyes flicking to you. The blue eye is widened almost to the same degree that the red one seems to naturally sit at, and you’d almost think it were comedic if you didn’t recognize the subtle flash of hurt that came with it.
“You’re rather jaded about the whole situation, aren’t you.”
It’s a statement, not question.
“Silco,” You start, propping your cheek on your raised fist and poking your tongue against your cheek to gather your words before you say them, “Put yourself in my boots for a moment, if you’re feeling gracious enough. I was fifteen years old when I got your name, and within weeks I hear you’re dead. Do you know what that does to a kid that dreamed of their soulmate?”
“I don’t,” Silco leans back into the couch, using the crossing of his legs to turn his body toward you and mirror your position with an elbow on the backrest, “As I’m sure I’ve had experiences that you can’t comprehend, either. That’s the human experience - no two are the same. But I will tell you that I’ve waited. There’ve been no others, neither my eyes nor my mind have wandered.”
Your teeth press together, just enough until your jaw muscle aches before you relax it again. Sucking your tongue to your teeth and clicking it, you ask, “What do you want from me, Silco? An employee? Some goon to order around? A partner? Have you even thought about what comes next, or were you just blinded by some name on your skin that links us together.”
And he laughs. Low, rolling, deliberate to the point that it curls around you pleasantly and sinks into your skin as sure as the name on your wrist. There’s a cuff on his left arm, one that’s seen often enough by those who don’t want to show their given name to the world. With a practiced ease, Silco slips it off and turns his wrist to show you what’s there. The skin is lighter than what’s around it, somehow less tanned even if the sun doesn’t reach far enough to cause it.
“That’s you, is it not?” Your name rolls off his tongue so smoothly, like he’s said it a thousand times to himself already, “You think this is some trick, some ploy to recruit you. I assure you, if I truly wanted you in my circle, Sevika would have dragged you back to the base that night.”
“Threatening me isn’t helping your cause, Silco.”
Silco’s eyes roll so hard his whole head rolls with it, and he keeps his gaze focused on the ceiling for a moment as if it’s going to give him the strength he’s beginning to lose. The line of his throat bobs as he swallows, then looks back to you, “It isn’t a threat. I’m willing to be open with you, if you let your guard down for a moment.”
Silence settles, with you looking at him through narrowed, untrusting eyes. Silco’s look impassive, maybe a bit expectant with one brow raised - though with the other brow scarred over, any movement would look like that. Finally, after spending far too long taking in the planes of his feature - admiring, if you’re being honest, he’s rather attractive when you think about it for too long - you nod briefly. Just once, but it’s enough.
You don’t expect him to move closer. Not by much, but he’s enough for him to reach for the cuff around your wrist. Against your better judgment, you let him take it and begin to work on the buckles that hold it tight against your skin. The air is frigid now that it’s uncovered, but you’re more focused on the way Silco slowly turns your wrist over until the five letters of his name are visible.
A hum of interest, one that you question with a tilt of your head. Silco catches the movement and his eyes flick up to you with the smallest of smiles, “In my handwriting, no less. I always wondered what it would look like.”
The response leaves you faster than you can attempt to stop it, “I traced it so many times I could forge your signature perfectly.”
That catches his attention fully, even as his thumb brushes across your skin and leaves goosebumps in his wake, “Did you, now? Secretly a romantic, I see.”
“How could I not be?” The cat’s already out of the bag now, might as well see it through since Silco won’t let it lie, “You are my soulmate. When I was still grieving, I missed you terribly.”
“And you no longer do?” It doesn’t sound hurt, despite how it’s been presented. Silco’s still rubbing lines across your skin, almost as if he’s doing it subconsciously while he watches the changes in your expression. There’s a look on his face that you’ve seen worn by others - children staring through shop windows at shiny toys, dock workers gazing across the river to the gilded city above, the poor woman down on the corner that tortures herself by sitting across the street from a food stall.
It’s pure want. Desire, but not carnally. Like truly, irrevocably, he needs you. His soulmate. It starts to click just then, the moment that realization flickers across your mind, that you’re not as alone as you’d planned to be. Suddenly, the other half of your equation has been filled in, and the end result is satisfying and exciting.
Excitement isn’t something you’ve felt for years.
“I got used to it, but… I’m not upset, if that’s what you’re thinking.”
“Thrown off-balance. Understandable, but-” Silco cuts himself off just for a second, enough to close the gap between you until his knee presses alongside your own. Your nerves sing at the contact, relishing in the warmth seeping through the fabric to bloom against your skin. Silco still holds your wrist in a loose grip, fingers wrapped over the name like it’s a secret only for the two of you.
“I won’t let you stumble. I take care of what’s mine, and perhaps you can find it in you to take care of me, too.”
“Is that what you want? To be taken care of?”
Silco’s lips spread into a smile, crooked and unsure, but it’s genuine enough to make your heart skip a beat at the sight of it. It’s something you’d never expected to see, much less be the one to cause it. A bit of a sly glint enters his blue eye, accentuated by the way his lid lowers and he looks at you through his lashes with nothing but intent.
“You don’t know how long I’ve been waiting for you to ask that.”
324 notes · View notes
sxlco · 2 years
Text
Do you remember the slowest-realized-stop-motion-smooch-session ever?
Tumblr media
It's progressing.
530 notes · View notes
sxlco · 2 years
Text
Tumblr media
There's rosemary; that's for remembrance
Pray you, love, remember
4K notes · View notes
sxlco · 2 years
Note
WE DO NOT DESERVE PARM
hi babes just wanted to drop a note that i had the opportunity to go through quite a bit of your masterlist and it’s just *mwah* excellent 5 stars your contributions to the horny silco cult cannot be understated
your silco soulmate au’s in particular give me physical feelings of warmth and butterflies i just LOVE them and had to let you know ❤️❤️
imma write another one just for you
21 notes · View notes
sxlco · 2 years
Text
Tumblr media
I tried to draw Jinx as well! I hope I did her justice 💜
3K notes · View notes
sxlco · 2 years
Photo
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
SILCO in THE BASE VIOLENCE NECESSARY FOR CHANGE.
Ready to rise to the surface?
2K notes · View notes
sxlco · 2 years
Text
reblogging this again because i need you to understand this physically gave me butterflies like my stomach was in KNOTS i love soulmate au’s 😩😩
The Name of a Dead Man (Silco/Reader) Soulmate AU
so i've been plucking at this one all day as a little celebration for hitting 1k followers and also as a gift for @sweatandwoe because they bullied me into also writing a soulmate au for this stupid rat man.
please enjoy this! i put a lot of angst and sweat and tears into it :^)
Silco/Reader ~6k Words Ao3 Link
---
They say soulmates are the universe’s way of soothing your soul after the brutal misfortune it throws upon you. An olive branch as an apology for wounding you so gravely that it feels impossible to go on.
Some claim it to be a bandage too small for the wound required to receive it, but those who haven’t yet experienced the sensation of relief could never understand it. It’s a topic of contention among those who despise it - that it would require you to have your heart carved away just for there to be enough room for another.
Science was the beacon of truth through it all. Through repeated tests and less-then-ethical trials, it was discovered that the bond was always present. Even though the name isn’t imprinted on your skin, it's still there but latent. You could pass your soulmate a thousand times and never know it because the connection hasn’t been awakened.
And it all comes back to the beginning - the restitution you receive for earth-shattering trauma is the blooming of little letters on your wrist, giving you the only indication of your soulmate.
Maybe you were a hopeless romantic, but despite the immense hardship required to nudge the bond into life you desperately wanted to know the person on the other side of your dormant bond. To know who the universe deemed to be an acceptable gift in the wake of tragedy.
As a child, you wondered who it would be. A man? A woman? Would they be handsome? You hoped so, though you knew you’d love them even at their worst. You only hoped that the feeling would be reciprocated in its truest form, that you’d know the love your parents shared through their completed soul mark.
And so you grew, from an infant to a toddler to a young child. It wasn’t until you stepped into your teenage years at the age of thirteen and had started to lose the rose-tinted glasses that you realized while the name did in fact bloom prettily across your wrist, the sensation it provided was anything but comforting.
Silco had first noticed the searing pain in his wrist while his lungs burned beneath the surface of the river. As Vander curled thick hands around his neck and smothered him until his struggling ceased. Even when he’d caught the knife and cut his way to freedom, his wrist felt like it had been torn just as badly as his eye.
Take stock of injuries later, he told himself. Get to the shore, get away from his so-called brother, get to safety first and ask questions later. His steps were stumbling and unsteady as he followed the toxic shoreline, nearly falling into the water as it turned to a creek that led to his salvation.
Unable to continue, he dropped to his knees in the mud and brought a shaking hand to apply pressure to his eye. It was slick beneath his fingers, only textured by the mangled and hanging skin that would leave him scarred for life. And then there were the cuts on his skin from the struggle, the lines on his neck and shoulders where Vander had dug his fingernails in to find purchase beneath the slick, oily water.
Finally, Silco turned his good eye to the wound on his wrist. Beneath the sheet of blood, he could see no wound. Using the wet fabric of his shirt, he wiped it away and looked at the unfamiliar writing that was coming to existence on his skin. Writing he never thought he’d be allowed to see even after all the hardships he’d faced in his life - if it hadn’t come yet, then what could possibly trigger it?
Betrayal from his only family, apparently.
As his vision started to waver and he found himself prone in the mud, the last thing his remaining eye could focus on was the completion of the name on his skin.
It burned.
Hotter than any oven, more painful than anything you’d ever experienced.
You’d been caught unaware when it happened.
Next to you, your mother hummed as she stirred the pot of stew and waited for you to finish cutting each new addition. Your movements were smooth and sure - cutting food wasn’t the only skill you knew with a knife, and while your mother disliked the knowledge of what you did to help put food on the table, she had her ways of capitalizing on it.
One, two, three cuts through the carrot, then turn it the other way and another one-two-three.
Then, a fourth sensation that sent the knife clattering to the floor as your left hand tensed at the immediate sensation of pain.
“Did you cut yourself?! Let me see,” Your mother reached for you, but you swatted her hands away as you stumbled over yourself and landed on your knees. Curling your hand to your stomach, you hunched over it and could no longer contain your gut reaction of screaming. Like nothing you’d ever felt before.
It felt like someone was carving into you with a red-hot knife, dragging ragged breaths with every pass. Your mother worried over you, looking for blood but seeing none. Having experienced this herself, she caught on immediately and you were instead provided with a cool rag. Unable to do much besides weakly reach for it, she instead pulled your arm from its claw-like position at your stomach and wrapped the soothing cloth around it.
“I know… It’s so painful. It’s meant to be.”
“I-I didn’t think… It’s too much.”
“Imagine what they’re feeling,” Your mother soothed, smoothing her hands across your temples before settling on her knees more comfortably in front of you, “Your soulmate has experienced the worst tragedy of their life, and it’s only amplified by the awakening of the bond.”
“It’s not supposed to be like… this,” You gestured with a twitch of your arm, and your mother’s laugh held no humor in it.
“It’s not supposed to be easy, either. Feeling better?”
“Barely,” You croaked, leaning into her heavily as your skin throbbed in time with a pulse that wasn’t your own. She only pulled away when it was time to finish dinner, the hour you spent on the floor having been more than enough time to ensure the uneven cooking of the vegetables that were on the pot and the counter.
Still, no one complained. Not when your bond finally awoke and you had proof of your other half, the person who was unequivocally made for only you, and vice-versa. As the sun grew lower and the pain started to slowly subside, you allowed your mother to unwrap the fabric across your wrist and show the completed mark, the name you’d forever be chasing.
Your stomach twisted when your eyes fell on the simple signature, the “S” making large swoops compared to the 4 other understated letters. Your mother’s thumb smoothed across it as she read aloud.
“Silco…?”
“You’ve already heard, then?”
Both of you whipped your heads to look at the doorway where your father arrived, coat slightly damp from the steady rain that had been falling throughout the evening. He set his bag on the table before leaning against the back of one chair heavily. It creaked under the strain.
“Silco’s betrayed Vander, everyone’s pretty sure he’s dead.”
The ache in your wrist was nothing compared to the sensation of your heart shuddering to a stop. You only knew of him for mere moments and he’d already slipped through your fingers. As if she sensed your immediate distress, your mother rounded the table to pull you to her chest, smothering your wracking sobs stemming from the loss of a man you’d never met but already could love.
How do you move forward in a world where you have the name of a dead man on your wrist?
You cover it, and you keep your nose in your own business. You don’t let anyone see that you’re branded with a name that was ash on everyone’s tongue in the wake of his betrayal of Vander. You don’t let anyone know that you harbored different thoughts, that maybe the events that passed through the grapevine were not as truthful as everyone seemed to believe.
Something happened that night. Something caused Silco so much distress that it awoke his bond - simply betraying Vander would not be enough to put his name on your skin. Nothing less than absolutely devastating heartbreak could make it happen.
But Vander was the de facto leader of the Lanes, and you had no right nor grounds to accuse him of falsifying events. All you could do was wrap the bandages around your wrist and hold tight to your belief in your heart - Silco hadn’t betrayed Vander. Perhaps… it had been the other way around.
You kept it secret for years at your parent’s insistence. Belonging to Silco would only bring you trouble, even after his death. The wounds were still fresh, despite the steps back that Vander had begun to take with the uprising. No one would think twice about harming a scrawny teenager with such a heavy burden.
As the years ticked on, the name on your wrist became less of a curse and more of a pillar of support. Someone had been made for you, and while you would never get the chance to meet with them, you hoped that he was watching over you somehow as you made a name for yourself in the Lanes.
Even as you did your due diligence and kept your manifested mark a secret… All secrets find their way to the light eventually.
Yours happened to be at the hands of the very man you’d never wanted to know. The one man who you’d harbored a distrust for since that fateful night over three years ago, who you knew in your heart hadn’t been truthful to anyone. Still, as you were dragged into the bar by your newfound comrade, blood from the gash in your side soaking into her shirt and your serrated arm dripping to the floor, you knew you were in trouble.
“Vi, what’s going on here-”
“We got in trouble, please they’re hurt-”
“I can see that. Get them on one of the tables. See if you can’t get their shirts off and I’ll be back with the kit.”
You wanted to fight against being under this roof, being under the care of this man and the girl you hadn’t realized was his daughter. Instead, all you could do was weakly help Vi pull your shirt over your head and watch with muted fear as she pulled the mangled bandages from around your forearm.
The blood covered the name, but you knew it was only a matter of time until the man that returned to stitch you up finished the job that had already been started.
Consciousness came and went with each minute as he worked on you, quiet voice speaking with Vi in tones too quiet for your foggy mind to comprehend. You understood enough that you wouldn’t die of blood loss, or anything else really, but you’d need to take it easy here for a few days before you could return home.
At Vander’s insistence, Vi got your address from you and went to inform your parents of your new home for the next few days until you were safe to move about. The moment the door closed behind her, Vander sat heavily in the chair near your head and reached a hand to rest on your limp forearm, mindful of the stitching he’d just finished.
The blood had been cleaned away, you realized. He knew.
“I’m sorry, kid.”
You said nothing, only looking at him with tired and forlorn eyes. As if he knew what your expression meant, he continued, “What I did to him… I regretted it. I still do. And now that I know about you… Just more sins piled on my back. You never deserved something like that.”
“What… was he like?”
“Smart as a whip,” Vander said quickly, and for the first time you could see a smile on his lips, “Determined. Passionate about his goals to a fault. We didn’t agree on many things, but he was still my brother and I did the unthinkable.”
“I wish I… could have met him. What did he look like?”
“I’m sure I have a picture around here somewhere. Sit tight.”
Vander left your view for maybe a few minutes, maybe a few hours. Time felt like a thick jelly as your mind rolled over the words he’d said. Vander had all but confirmed your suspicions, that he had been the one to betray Silco after all. He’d taken your soulmate from you before you could even know him, but the look of melancholy in his eyes as he returned with the photograph soothed the growing unrest in your heart.
He regretted it. That wouldn’t bring Silco back, but he regretted it.
Vander handed you the photograph, and you took it with your uninjured hand to hover it over your face. Immediately, your heart ached in a way that it hadn’t done for years, since you accepted he was well and truly gone.
Next to Vander he was thin, borne from a life of hardship living in the Undercity. Narrow, severe features with hooded eyes and a fleeting jawline. Despite the scowl on his face, you could see hints of amusement as Vander leaned a heavy arm around his shoulders. Judging by how he stacked up at the larger man’s side, he had to be tall as well. Your fingers ached to run through the dark hair that hung in waves to his shoulders.
“He was very handsome,” You finally said, bringing the photograph to your chest to hold it over your heart. Vander let out a small laugh to your left as he leaned back in the chair.
“His methods weren’t always aligned the same with mine, but he had his soft moments. I think he would’ve given you the world if you asked for it, kid.”
“I don’t want the world,” You chanced a glance at the man in the photograph, your thumb smoothing along the line of his nose, “I only wanted him.”
“I’ll never forgive myself,” Vander’s voice turned severe, and it was enough to make you look at him in shock as he got up from the chair. He took a few steps away, shoulders tight and fists clenched at his sides, “I hurt him… and now I’ve hurt you, too. I don’t have words to describe the regret I feel.”
“I understand,” You said quietly, and his head whipped over his shoulder to look at you with astonishment, “Not entirely, but… If you’re truly sorry, if it’s really eating at you that badly… Then the only thing that can be done is to move on.”
The look of wonder that Vander gave you made the edges of your heart hurt just a bit less. If you couldn’t have your soulmate, perhaps you could stick around and learn everything you could from the man that had called him a brother.
Silco both loved and hated the name on his wrist.
He loved it because it meant that the deepest of his worries had been soothed in a single, burning moment. As a young man, he’d been worried that there was a fluke, a cosmic mishap that left him alone because despite the amount of trauma he suffered in his life alongside Vander and the resistance movement, no name had been branded onto him. No sign of his other half out there in the world waiting for him.
And he hated it, because there was someone out there in the world waiting for him, and someday he’d find himself darkening their doorstep while he looked like this.
Skin marred with scarred, mutated eye that could never close, and irreversibly jaded as he fought tooth and nail to secure his place in the world once more. The doctor that healed him had been so eager to work at his side, and from there he only moved upward with clawing hands and broken fingernails.
And when it felt hopeless, he’d pull back the band on his wrist to trace trembling fingers over the smooth lines of the signature. If he thought about it hard enough while laying awake at night in his bed, he could almost imagine the feeling of a heartbeat through the bond. Imaginary, of course, because communication through the so-called bond wasn’t possible.
Still, it soothed the cracks in his heart to a bearable degree to imagine them alive and well out in the world.
And with every day that turned into months that turned into years, and every successful Shimmer test and every business transaction that came and went, he dragged himself from below the earth toward the light. Toward the figure in his mind that was the eye of his storm.
Vander kept you around, giving you free rein in the bar alongside his gaggle of children. You grew close to them, but you found yourself seeking Vander out on the days when you felt so lonely you could die. Like you needed to be closer to Silco for your heart to be quieted.
And he’d humor you, telling you stories of Silco and the things they’d done, the places they’d seen. The amount of times Silco had saved his skin from a bad decision using only words and a well-placed knife. Vander found more pictures, allowing you to keep each one that he provided.
Your favorite was a picture of Silco alone, hunched over the bar and nursing a glass of something dark. His jaw was bruised and he had a cut under one eye, but he still looked devastatingly handsome with the dark tousle of his hair and the cocked smile on his face. You kept this one on you at all times, tucked into the inner pocket of your jacket so you could pull it out whenever your heart stung a bit too much.
Despite what he’d done, how he’d deprived you of the man you were branded with, you came to an understanding and easy acceptance alongside Vander. His stories were invaluable to you, but his insight on other matters had helped as well. Your father was still alive, but spent many of his waking hours working in the foundries to provide for the family.
Vander was like a second father, maybe closer to a caring uncle that took you under his wing and gave you a place alongside his other children - Vi especially, the two of you becoming thick as thieves as you leaned on one another and raised hell in the Lanes.
One night, when it was too late for you to go home and you instead bunked with Powder and Vi, the two girls finally looked at the name on your wrist. Powder didn’t say much, but surprisingly Vi remembered the man, even faintly.
“He was tall. And skinny, but I watched him pick up a grown man, so I know he was strong.”
And that was all. She’d barely seen him before the incident with Vander, and then he was gone. Powder had been tracing her fingers reverently over the mark, and when silence fell over you she flicked her eyes up to look at you in wonder.
“Will I ever get one?”
You exchanged a look with Vi, and she gave you an unsure look. With a quiet sigh, you leaned forward to press a kiss to Powder’s forehead, “Everyone has one, it’s just not visible. But… for your sake, I hope you never do. It’s only ever caused me pain, and you don’t deserve that.”
Powder’s eyes immediately filled with tears, and she threw herself at you in a hug, “You don’t either!”
As you laid your hand on her hair to smooth the strands down, you exchanged another look with Vi and sighed under your breath.
“But I wouldn’t trade him for anything.”
All at once, Vander forbade you from returning to the bar. He stood in the doorway of your home, filling the entrance as Benzo and a few of the others stood at his back. While you kept it a secret, it became a well-kept secret among the denizens of The Last Drop that you were irrevocably linked to Silco.
Vander’s expression twisted into one of worry, and a heavy hand came to rest on your shoulder, “It’s not safe to talk now, but… You can’t come back. Not until one of us tells you, you understand? It’s for your own safety.”
“Vander, please tell me what’s going on-”
His fingertips tightened around your shoulder, not enough to hurt but they emphasized the gravity of the situation.
“I need you to trust me. No matter what you hear, no matter what happens… You keep that wrist covered up, do you understand? No one else is to know you carry that name.”
Something settled in your gut, ringing through your bones that it was oddly specific of him to mention it now. You brought both of your hands to clench around his forearm, your grip weak with the trembling in your fingers, “Vander… Tell me.”
“There’s no time, we can’t hang ‘round here anymore,” Benzo’s voice called from outside, and with reluctance you let go of Vander’s arm so he could retract it. As a last gesture, he reached for your wrist and laid his palm over the name scrawled there.
“Remember. Don’t say a word about this. You’re a good kid… Silco would’ve loved you. Truly, more than anything.”
Vi came to you next, with Mylo and Claggor in tow. While the two boys weren’t aware of your… condition, Vi had the forethought to know that you needed to be at their side when they went to the cannery. She didn’t give specifics, but the harshness of her voice for you to get your gear and leave with them brokered no room for argument.
Then as the world went up in flames and the man you’d grown so close to was dead on the ground at your feet, you finally understood the magnitude of what Silco had gone through all those years ago. As Vi left the two of you in the blazing heat of the cannery, you rocked Powder in your lap as her wrist burned and burned, unable to be soothed by the wails she smothered against the skin of your collarbone.
“I know, Pow-Pow,” You rocked her as best you could, muttering into the top of her head, “Mine hurt too. It hurt so bad, but then you’ll have your name and it will help. I promise, it will help-”
“It didn’t help you!” Her voice cracked as her fingers dug into your back.
“It helped me be stronger,” You pulled back enough to lift her face and look at the fat tears running down her cheeks, “I was strong for Silco because I needed to be.”
“Strong for me? How touching.”
Despite the heat surrounding you, your blood froze in your veins. You’d never heard that voice before, but you knew it. Knew it as well as your own, as if it was the one in your head giving voice to every thought. The man dropped to a knee next to you, a hand carefully holding something behind his back. You could see the butt of the handle just barely, and you knew it was a knife.
“We’ve never met, but I’m surprised you’d go to such lengths for me.”
“I know you,” Your voice was barely a whisper as you gazed at him, taking in the familiar slope of his nose, the angle of his jaw, the shape of his cheekbones with one marred by scarring. Even his undamaged eye felt like you’d looked into it every day with its familiarity. And truthfully, you had done so with every photograph you kept tucked into the zipped pocket of your coat next to your heart.
“You will, I’m sure,” Silco’s eyes moved to the girl sobbing in your lap, some unreadable emotion there as he seemed to realize that the two of you were short three siblings and a father.
“To your feet now. Both of you. We’re leaving.”
You spent your first days locked in the room provided to you, pacing and panicking and maybe doing a bit of crying at night before you inevitably fell into nightmares. Powder came by a few times, telling you that Silco had been surprisingly kind to her and offered to let her stay here from now on. To provide her a home and stability.
At your desperate behest, you begged Powder not to tell Silco of the name on your wrists. She’d accepted without question, recognizing the desperation in your voice. If you were going to reveal your identity, you’d do it on your own terms.
Instead, you stalled for time and kept yourself occupied by spreading photographs of Silco on the bed to try to reconcile the man of your dreams with the man of your reality. Surprisingly, it wasn’t as difficult as you thought. Though his eye was damaged and his face was scarred, and that hair you’d daydreamed about was shorn off, you still found it easy to recognize the man.
How could you not? He was your soulmate, the one you’d pined after for years. The one you’d mourned and respected and grown to love. The one Vander described to you as willing to give you the world. All you needed to do was open the door and explain to him your identity and everything would be okay.
Then, Vander’s words would echo back to you to keep it covered, to not speak of it. Maybe that was his way of protecting you, from keeping you away from the dangerous man that was suddenly not dead. You realized quickly with everything that happened in the cannery that night - Silco was not a good man. Not anymore.
Maybe it was the trials he’d undergone, or the people he needed to surround himself to survive. You hoped that somewhere under that morbidly interested gaze he’d given you that there was just a piece of that man you’d kept close to your heart.
And suddenly, before you could make the decision yourself, a quiet knock sounded on your door. You wanted to be silent, to turn whoever it was away, but instead you croaked a “Come in.”
And there he was, filling your heart with too many feelings in the span of seconds that you had to fight to keep the tears at bay. You couldn’t help but trace the lines of his frame with your eyes, studying the set of his shoulders and the tense posture that he wore so comfortably.
The door shut quietly behind him and Silco finally turned to you with the eyes you’d fallen for in seconds. “Powder is invited to stay here indefinitely, but as of right now you are not. At least, not until I receive answers.”
“Answers?”
“You know me, you said it yourself,” Silco crossed the room to stand at the foot of the bed you were seated on with one leg over the side. As he approached, his gaze fell to the expanse of bed before you muttered with photographs depicting him. With a look of astonishment, his eyes snapped to yours and pinned you in place, “What is this? Where did you get these?”
“It’s… I ah…” You tore your eyes away to instead start frantically grabbing the pictures. Silco’s hand shot out and grabbed your left, fingers tight against the soiled bandages you still wore to cover the name. His sleeve was tightly buttoned at the wrist, but you knew that if he turned and pulled it up only an inch you’d see your name stark against his skin.
“Can… Can I see it?”
“See what?”
“Your mark,” You said simply, unwilling to look at him in case the expression in his eyes was one of disgust that you’d even ask that of him. Then, his hand released your wrist and his arm turned the smallest amount to reveal the button holding the end of his sleeve closed.
With a dry swallow, you reached forward to release the fabric and drag the cloth up to show what you thought you’d never get the chance to see. Your name on his skin in your familiar handwriting. With a thumb, you smoothed over the letters and let out a shaky sigh. You could swear sparks were under your fingers as you marvelled at the physical proof of your connection.
His fist flexed in your grip and you let him go as if you’d been shocked. Slowly, he sat on the bed in front of you and reached for your arm again. You let him begin the process of unwinding the fabric starting at your elbow, getting closer and closer to the five letters you’d memorized like gospel.
You felt the air leave his lungs as the bandage fluttered to the floor. His fingers brushed over the mark, tracing each letter of his name like you’d done so many times before he covered it with his palm. You placed your other hand over his and finally chanced a glance to his face. Pure awe was the only way you could describe it as he looked at your joined hands.
Finally looking at him was like every problem in your life suddenly didn’t matter. He was older, had been through more trauma and hardships, but this was the man that had provided purpose to your life even from the supposed grave. If he sent you away now, you weren’t sure you’d be able to respect his wishes. You’d fight tooth and nail if it meant never having to leave his side again.
You cleared your throat quietly before speaking, squeezing his hand for emphasis, “I thought you were dead. Everyone said you were. Even… Even Vander.”
“You’ve been with Vander?”
“He let me hang around, told me everything about you because my soulmate was dead and it was the only connection I had,” You let go of his hand to instead reach for his face slowly, giving him time to back away if it made him uncomfortable. Instead, he leaned into the touch of your palm on his jawline. It was surreal to be able to trace the lines of his face in person instead of through an old, worn picture.
His scars were rough under your fingers, but you found that it didn’t detract from his features. And while his damaged eye could be haunting to some, you could find nothing but warmth and tenderness in it as he gazed upon you.
Silco spoke quietly, so low that you barely caught it.
“I apologize. For making you wait.”
“I would have waited forever. I planned on it,” You said fervently, brushing your thumb across his skin, memorizing the feel of his cheekbone, “All I’ve wanted since your name was burned into my wrist was you. And then you were gone before I could even know you. I was a child, terrified with the worst news I could have been given. If you hadn’t already suffered enough for the both of us, I have no doubt it would have caused the bond to awaken.”
Silco let out a long breath, his answer to your words being the slight tilt of his head to press his lips against your palm. Your heart sang at the contact, at his small show of acceptance. Then, his tongue poked his cheek in thought, eyes drifting over your shoulder as he put together his next words in a way that would be coherent.
“You were the light in my darkness all these years. I knew that if I persevered, eventually I could stand at your side and make up for lost time,” Silco’s lips brushed against your palm with every word, snaking goosebumps along your skin, “You’ve meant everything to me from the very beginning.”
You pulled your lip between your teeth to mask the wobble as your fingers trailed from his face to his neck. You could feel his pulse, steady and strong at your touch as if to reassure you that he was here - healthy and well. Pulling together all the courage you could muster, you steadied yourself with a breath and leaned forward to bring your lips to his.
Silco accepted without hesitation, his free hand coming to your leg to hold him steady. At the small sounds you made, you felt the tips of his fingers flex against your thigh as he sighed against your lips in what seemed like relief. Despite everything, kissing Silco felt like you were finally completed - like maybe all the pain and tribulations had finally paid off.
It was short and chaste, though his hand still lingered on your thigh to rub circles with his thumb as he pulled back. His face was close, searching your gaze and only finding the wellspring of feelings you were overflowing with.
“Silco…”
“Yes?”
“I love you,” At your words his expression bloomed into one of awe, his jaw growing slack with every sentence you spoke, “I’ve loved you since your name was on my wrist. With every story Vander would tell me, every piece of information I could twist out of him, every picture he found for me… I fell in love with you even more. I wasn’t lying to you when I said I would have waited the rest of my life.”
“Even though you thought I was dead?”
“Why would I want another when you turned out to be everything I dreamed of?” You tilted your head forward to press your forehead to his. His grip hadn’t lessened on your wrist until just now, and even then his fingertips were running along his name reverently.
“Even from afar you’ve been my inspiration. My support. I couldn’t have done any of this if you hadn’t kept me grounded and sane.”
“Even though you didn’t know me?” You parroted his words with a shaky smile, and your heart skipped at the sight of his small smile, almost sheepish in nature like he was embarrassed to speak on his feelings.
“The thought of seeing you one day is what’s kept me going,” Silco pulled back enough to bring your wrist to his lips for a gentle kiss, and he spoke his next words directly to your skin, “I’ve loved you for just as long.”
At his words you kissed him again, practically throwing yourself in his arms as he barely caught you. Silco’s arms held you tightly to his chest and you’d never felt more complete than you had in that moment, entirely filled with love.
With gentle tugs, you managed to get him to lay with you on the bed and you capitalized on the opportunity to curl at his side and smooth your hand along the fabric of his vest absently. You basked in the moment; The one you never thought you could have.
Silco’s voice rumbled through the ear you had pressed against his chest, his hand on your hip squeezing for emphasis, “Will you stay?”
“As if I could leave you now,” You lifted your head to prop your chin on his chest and look up at him with a smile so wide it almost hurt, “I will never leave you.”
“That’s… good to hear. I worry what you’ll think when you realize the lengths I’ve gone to secure… everything.”
“I will love you just the same,” You promised, shifting up to press a kiss just on the underside of his chin, “I am yours and you are mine.”
Silco looked to the ceiling above, jaw flexing for a moment until a small smile crossed his face.
“I like the sound of that.”
800 notes · View notes
sxlco · 2 years
Note
chickenparm you glorious poet i love soulmate au’s and this one is no different GOD i’m in love
Okay, what about a soulmate au then where either reader or Silco really do not want to have a soulmate but they just can't help but pine and eventually fall for it?
i hope this kinda fits what you were looking for. love you babykins.
Silco/F!Reader 2438 Words - NSFW Thought-Sharing Soulmate AU Phone Sex kind-of? Masturbation, Dirty Talk
The first time you heard his voice in your head, it spooked you into messing up at work and slicing your hand open. Immediately, as you cursed and swore in your head, his voice rang through the newly formed bond with purpose instead of the accidental murmurings that had fallen through the cracks before.
Are you usually this much of an idiot?
Your brain short-circuited as you clenched the rag to your hand and put the pieces together that your soulmate bond had just formed, and apparently you’d gotten stuck with a jerk.
Are you usually an asshole?
Yes. I’ll assume your answer is the same as mine.
And thus started your curse - a running commentary in your head that criticized your thoughts, feelings, and actions. Calling you a fool when you let your thoughts wander too far before you learned to rein them in and keep him from hearing them. Still, he seemed to get sick pleasure from breaking through your control and listening in for himself.
Even if his commentary was frustrating and beat you down on a daily basis, you still kept a secret little thought that his voice was perfect. Smooth, low, articulate, and even-toned. It rarely changed into one of anger or frustration, though you found yourself egging him on sometimes just to hear that edge of anger in his voice when you criticized his own actions.
Or, and this one brought you a sick sense of pleasure, when you’d let your thoughts slip when your eye caught on someone particularly attractive and you let yourself wander to the things you’d like to do to them if given the chance.
You realize I am your soulmate?
Spitefully, as you turned your eyes back forward to continue on your way home for the night, you felt the spite well in your chest. Yes, he was your soulmate, but he’d done a piss-poor job of it from the beginning. Weren’t they supposed to be supportive and loving to one another? As a child you’d been so excited, only for it to come crashing down around you with a spiteful first meeting that spiraled out of control with every exchange.
Visibly sneering, you put as much venom in your thoughts as you shot back at him.
You’re a terrible soulmate. You treat me like shit, you’re rude, you call me names and tell me I’m an idiot. I have no confidence because of you. Can you blame me for looking elsewhere? If you were my boyfriend I would have kicked you to the curb a long time ago.
He did not respond, nor did any of his thoughts slip through for weeks. For the first time in over a year, your mind was your own once more. You kept it on lockdown, always vigilant that none of your thoughts would slip over to your mysterious soulmate. This was for the best, he was a terrible soulmate, and you wondered if maybe the universe lumped you with him because you were the only one that would have tolerated him for this long.
It was usual etiquette for soulmates to meet each other after a year of sharing thoughts and learning about one another, but the thought repulsed you. You had no desire to ever meet him, to give him your name or to learn his. As far as you were concerned, he was dead weight.
Others had felt the same, people who rejected their soulmates or somehow hadn’t received one well past the age when it was normal. You had options, you wouldn’t have to die alone if you even wanted to deal with another person after all this. He’d kind of ruined it for you.
And then, one night - when you were tucked in bed after a frustrating day and taking care of yourself with dipping and curling fingers, brushing your clit with your other hand - that smooth voice curled around every thought in your head like a lover.
Thinking of me?
Your hand stilled and you starfished on the bed with an audible groan of frustration.
No, but now I am, and it’s ruined. Thanks.
Don’t stop on my account.
I’m not masturbating while you listen in. Are you a pervert on top of being an insufferable piece of shit?
I could be a more active participant, then. I’m thinking of you.
The ceiling above was the subject of your blank stare as you processed what he was saying, what he implied with those 4 words. Your breath hitched at that, and your hand inched back to your still-throbbing pussy to cup it with your palm. He was thinking of you?
Don’t go silent on me now. We can help each other and then go back to hating each other in the morning.
Your index finger slid across your opening, not quite entering but helping relieve some pressure so you could respond to him with some sort of coherent thought.
So you’re trying to get a booty call?
If that’s how you want to think about it, but… I want you to be satisfied so your eyes no longer wander.
You paused your gentle ministrations for a brief moment before finally answering him, still suspicious but willing to extend an olive branch if he’d just continue to talk to you in that smooth, measured voice. And maybe you’d get to hear it in other tones.
Fine.
Good. Did you stop?
No, I started again when you said you thought of me.
You’re all I think about when I’m like this. His voice was beginning to lose the careful, even tone he seemed fond of. Tell me what you’re doing.
With an audible hum, you stroked your thumb across your clit and knew he heard the sound of your pleasure in his head before you answered. I’m rubbing my clit, I’m naked and spread out.
For me?
For you.
I wish I could see, I’d spread your thighs open with my hands and watch as you fucked yourself on your fingers just for me. I’m so hard for you right now, sweetheart.
Your nerves sparked at the nickname, and you could practically feel him smile through the bond as he caught the stray thought that fluttered by.
Oh, you like it when I call you that? My sweetheart, my little soulmate with sharp teeth that bites back at me. If you were here I’d put that smart mouth to better use.
Maybe I’ll bite you there, too. You teased him as you slid your middle finger all the way inside, curling it against your g-spot and trembling at the sensation, I bet your cock is so big, bigger than just my fingers inside me.
You’re fingering yourself? Put three inside, that’s how big I am.
You followed his directions, skipping from 1 finger to three with a groan at the fast stretch of your own hand. His voice was encouraging in your mind, That’s it. Stretch yourself for me, you’re doing so well, sweetheart. I bet you’d feel so good around me, tight and wet and beautiful.
I’m soaked for you, even just your voice does things to me.
Yeah? You like it when I tell you what to do? I bet if I said this to you during the day I could have you like putty in my hands.
You could have me in your hands any way you wanted.
I’ll keep that in mind, sweetheart.
His voice urged you on, dictating every curl of your fingers and brush against your swollen clit. You couldn’t bring yourself to go against anything he said, hanging off his every word as he guided you to your orgasm.
I wish I could fuck you, release inside you and fill you up and claim you as mine. I’d give you everything, anything you wanted and give you my cock over and over until it was the only thought in that head of yours.
The thought was jumbled but still coherent, his voice faltering at times as he reached his own peak. You clenched around your fingers as you thought about what his cock looked like, what it would feel like as he filled you and marked you as his. That desperate thought must have slipped through the cracks, because as your eyes rolled back with your own orgasm, you saw it.
Long and thick, thin fingers wrapped around it and pulling back on his foreskin as his stomach glistened with his release, pooling against barely-defined muscles and his bellybutton. As your satisfaction and pleasure shot through the bond, you realized that he’d done that on purpose to show you what he’d all but said belonged to only you.
As the two of you lay silent, catching your breath and basking in the afterglow, his thought drifted through first. It was almost mocking, but maybe not as sharp as it had been before.
Thanks, sweetheart.
Yeah, back to business as usual. Go fuck yourself. Good night.
You didn’t indulge him again.
In fact, you rarely answered him, if ever. As the weeks dragged on after the instant regret of your little tryst with your soulmate, you resolved to keep the bond as limited as possible. One bad decision was enough for you, and you weren’t about to give him the chance to lure you back into making another.
Especially when he seemed so keen on it. When he’d tauntingly speak to you at night, telling you how he squeezed his cock to the thought of fucking you in every way imaginable. In bed, against a wall, bent over, in his lap backwards so he could spread your ass and watch you fuck yourself with him.
You didn’t humor him, and eventually he either lost interest or got the hint that you weren’t interested in obliging his numerous requests to fool around with him. When the morning came, and you remembered exactly how much of an asshole he’d always been, your logic won out, and you chastised yourself for being such a fool in the first place.
There’s an empty void in your head where his presence would usually reside when he’d linger in your thoughts - more often than usual before he’d backed off after his failed attempts to speak with you. It felt strange, like it wasn’t supposed to be there - and you figured it wasn’t, not when it was tailor-made for his presence.
And then suddenly it was filled with an overwhelming presence, screaming and raging in your head in a way that brought you to your knees, fingers digging into your scalp as his panic and terror ripped through the bond like a meteor. You almost wished you knew his name, if only to call it out and try to calm him through the bond.
The attempts you made when completely unnoticed, drowned out by the terror that crushed against your mind and writhed in your skull. As you clenched your eyes shut, all you could see was green, and the shadow of a man with his hands around your neck with a bruising grip. Your own heartbeat raced as your soulmate’s panic became your own.
Then, a knife in hands that didn’t belong to you, sinking between ribs as he finally freed himself to the surface, struggling frantically against the hold of the man before finally stumbling away, knife clutching in trembling fingers as his mind raced with unfiltered thoughts and feelings.
The depth perception was strange as you realized his eye was either gone or damaged, the blood slimy and sticky against his face as he finally made it to shore, and the vision cut out. You were back in your kitchen, curled into the linoleum with your forehead on the cool floor, fingernails scraping against your scalp in the wake of emotions you felt there.
I’m sorry. I’m sorry. Where are you? Come here. Please. I’m sorry. I need you. I need you. Please. I don’t know what to do.
Where?
The doctor on the outskirts, he explained as you suited up with your jacket and meager weapons. His thoughts were frantic and disjointed as more flashes of pain and panic filled your head. His eye, you gathered from his mind’s ramblings. It was being fixed, or at least to the point where he would survive, but more had gone on tonight than just an attack in the river.
You could tell by the heartbreak in his chest, stronger than any other emotion he could feel until you found the cave and burst through the door without a second thought.
Then, washing out that pain was relief as you finally took in the vision of your soulmate, slumped in a chair with bandages around his head and covering his eye. Behind him, the supposed doctor worked on something without even acknowledging your presence.
“You came.”
His voice was as familiar as your own as you crossed the room in quick strides, nearly sliding when you dropped to your knees between his legs and reached for his face. He was still damp, whether from the oily river water or the sweat from his rampaging emotions, you weren’t sure.
“You needed me.”
He laughed, a quiet thing that held no humor, and raked one half-lidded eye across your form. You couldn’t make out the color in the low light, but it was a light enough color that you could read his emotions from it like a book.
“I’ve always needed you, sweetheart. I was just too stubborn to admit it. But… You’re all I have left, now.”
You felt your heart skip at his words, the tenderness in them that you only remembered from that night together where he put aside the act for a single moment. Quietly, you told him your name, and he returned it with his own: Silco.
It suited him, you thought to yourself as you brushed dark matted hair from his forehead and leaned up to kiss his cheek. Silco’s head turned abruptly, catching your lips with his own and sighing in relief. His breath was warm against your lips as you pulled away, searching his expression for any sign of that front he put on for you.
But instead, all you could see was unfiltered love, like he was a man seeing the sun for the first time. As if your mere presence was pushing back the dark thoughts in his head. Silco leaned forward, hands grabbing at you to pull himself closer and closer, clinging to you with trembling fingers and shoulders that shook with the tears that he hid by burying his face into the fabric on your shoulder.
390 notes · View notes