#sky is tired and just wants to write but I can't quit my job and make a living writing fanfic

[skywalking-through-life]

Small vent incoming, please just ignore it if it doesn't resonate with you. I kind of just want to put it into the void, and Tumblr has always been void-y to me, lol.

So: something that no one tells you about adulthood is that it is REALLY HARD to find time for your hobbies, even your most beloved ones that consume all of your spare thoughts.

Like, for example, today. ALL I wanted to do was write, but I barely had time to do anything, much less breathe, much less do what I wanted to do most!

I was up at 7:30AM to handle the dog's breakfast/morning routine because Mr. Sky went into the office early (he usually does this for me when he's home, and I'm grateful to him for that - it lets me get a little more sleep). Then I rushed through my morning routine to try and get to work early for a very dear colleague's goodbye breakfast (her new opportunity is great, but I am SO sad to lose her), but the dog ate a coaster while I was in the shower so I was delayed cleaning that mess and I missed most of it. Then I had a bunch of charts and emails to check and respond to before I got pulled into an interview at 10AM. The interview took an hour, and then I debriefed it with a colleague for another half an hour or so because we don't think the person was a strong candidate - unfortunate, cause we really need to fill this position so that I'm not doing 2 people's jobs. Then there were more emails to respond to. Then, finally, a little bit of time to think! I polled some friends about aesthetics for a scene I'm working on and dashed off a few words of a vibe I wanted to expand on over my lunch break, but by 1PM I had to get back in my car and drive to a other work site 30 minutes away for a 2 hour meeting with a student I'm precepting. The meeting took closer to 2 and half hours because of a situation that popped up when I was at the other site. Then it was 4PM, and the other site is over an hour away from my house, and I had to leave so I could get home with enough time to wash the dog and eat something before a class I'm taking for professional licensure-required contiuing education at 6PM. By the time it was over at 8PM, I realized I had spent a grand total of maybe 10 minutes with Mr. Sky all day, so I got a bowl of ice cream and plopped down on the couch with him. He then needed my help with something, and by the time we were done, it was 9:45, the dog needed her night routine, and then I was too tired to do anything else but collapse into bed and write this post. (And I don't even have kids. That's a whole nother level of tired.)

And the MOST FRUSTRATING thing is, I thought about what I wanted to write ALL DAY and couldn't do it! While I was in the shower this morning, in the car on the way to work, at lunch, on the car on the way to the other site, on my commute home, during my CE class, while helping Mr. Sky, and now! I'm probably going to dream about it! But almost none of those times allowed for actual writing! And now my brain is mush!

I'm just frustrated that that happens more days than not, and I wish I had more hours in the day or more energy/better health (this was a good health day!) or less responsibilities. And I know this is the tale as old as time - nothing is new under the sun - but sometimes I wish the predictably cyclical struggle of life would be just a little less teeth-grindingly constant.

[laiiaaa]

THE PART WHERE YOU KISS ME — JJ MAYBANK

summary: You're stuck with the job of getting a very drunk, very lovesick JJ into bed.

length: 2.4k

contains: tooth-rotting fluff, obsessed boyfriend JJ, soooo touchy he can't keep his hands off of you (can you tell my love language is physical touch lmfao???), mentions of heavy drinking of course, zero plot, he's a flirty little freak and i hate him

note: Not the happiest with this but I haven't posted in a week and I'm in the middle of writing three other pieces right now...so take this as an apology gift for not having the GFAW chapter out yet <3

Driving to the Chateau this late is never ideal, especially when you’re tired and ticked off from a busy shift. Your feet and back ache, your head could use a few Advil, and you would be perfectly happy to stay home and sleep for twelve hours. 

But when Kie calls you, groaning and saying Your boyfriend is wasted and won’t shut up about you and you need to come pull him to bed, you go. It’s as simple as that, really. Partially because JJ is already painfully stubborn when sober and only gets worse as the night goes on (code for: he won’t listen to anyone but you), and partly because you get a sweet kick out of his clinginess and extra loving.

So when you finally pull up and hop out of your car, the sound of Pope sighing Finally doesn’t surprise nor offend you.  Kie and Sarah scurry over, welcoming you with hugs and jokes about how sorry they are they had to call you while John B and Pope still tend to the drunken blonde.

“It’s alright,” you assure them, “I don’t mind.” And you really don’t, not at all, not when he acts all the more helplessly in love with you.

The bonfire still burns on, red-hot embers breaking off into the midnight sky. Pink Floyd’s Dark Side of the Moon plays from a speaker nearby, and beer bottles litter the ground as you approach. The fire’s warmth wraps around you, a handle of Tito’s—only half full—entering your field of vision as you find JJ reclined back on the ground, an arm thrown over his eyes while his other hand taps along to the song. You crouch down next to him and hear him hum in tune.

John B stands behind you, feeling a little helpless. “He’s been talking about you nonstop since he got, like, three shots deep.”

“And as much as we love you guys together,” Sarah adds, leaning into the boy’s side, “He doesn’t listen very well once he gets started.”

You shoot them a smile over your shoulder. “It’s okay, I get it. You guys can head in if you want, this might take a while.” The two lovebirds wave you goodnight as they walk back inside with Kie and Pope, and you turn your attention back to your exceptionally troublesome boy. “JJ? Time to go to bed.”

He grumbles without moving an inch. “I told you to fuck off, Sarah, I just wanna see my girl.”

Your heart flutters at the name—his girl. You’ve never heard him call you that. Does he seriously think you’re Sarah? “Your girl?”

“Yeah, you know the gorgeous one?”

“Might ring a bell.”

“Yeah, well, she’s the most…the most beautiful person in the history of…of forever, and she’s mine, so get outta here n’…go flirt with John B or somethin’.” He lazily waves you off, mumbling something you don’t quite hear.

A smile fights its way to the surface, and you gently place your hand on the smooth plane of his shoulder. “Oh, but I wanted to flirt with you instead. How’s that sound, hm?”

He quickly pushes your touch away. “It sounds like my girl’s gonna kill you any second now, so watch it, Blondie.” He slurs his words as he speaks, pulling giggles from your lips. You gently take his wrist in your hand to remove his arm from his eyes and press a kiss where your fingertips touch him. His eyes stay closed, and he juts his chin in the opposite direction in protest.

“Jay, baby, I’m not killing anyone anytime soon,” you coo, leaning over his chest and face while running a hand through his hair. 

He opens one eye, suspicious of your claims, but quickly realizes it’s you, and turns to look at you like he’ll never get the chance to do it again, his expression swallowed by a smile. “When did you get here, baby?”

“Oh, just now,” you answer, laughter lacing your words, “Kie called me over.” You press a kiss to his forehead before sitting back up, your hand quickly taken by his.

“You should’ve come sooner.” His other hand makes its way to your thigh, smoothing over your skin. “I was waiting for you, all by myself, and—” he abruptly sits up— “there’s something I have to tell you,” he whispers. He casts a glance to the Chateau. “It’s top secret.”

With him this close, you can smell the vodka on his breath. “Yeah? What is it?” You loop your arms around his neck and scratch at the nape of his neck, to which he instinctively responds by wrapping his arms around your waist and rubbing the palms of his hands along your back.

“This is top secret, classified information, princess, you can’t just get it for free. Everything comes with a price.” A sly little grin comes over him, tugging you a little closer.

Knowing JJ, you already know where this is headed. You decide to play along anyway: “Name it, then. I’m sure we can strike a deal somehow.”

He mulls over his words before saying, “Hear me out.”

“I’m listening.”

“You—” he points at your chest— “give me three—no, five kisses for the info up front.” When you raise your eyebrows in suspicion, he continues, “And every follow up question is worth another kiss.”

“This must be very important information.”

“Very.” His hands, still soaking in the feeling of you beneath them, start to play with the hem of your tank top, fingertips slipping beneath the fabric to feel skin. “Better pay up soon.”

You feign a look of shock and place a hand on his chest. “I didn’t even agree yet, don’t get too excited.” 

He pouts with furrowed brows, convinced his offer would be impossible to resist. “Why? Baby, come on,” he urges, holding you tighter, “This is the part where you kiss me.” His eyelids droop with drunkenness and fatigue as he presses his lips to your neck, but you quickly take his jaw in your hand and pull him away. 

“Ah ah ah,” you tease. “You come to bed first, then I’ll give you kisses for your secrets.”

“But I don’t wanna go to bed.” His hands work their way from your waist down to your hips again, soon grazing your thighs the way he knows erupts butterflies in your stomach. “I wanna stay here with you…have you boss me around. You’re very sexy when you do it.” He smirks while looking up at you, and you know for a fact he’s just trying to push your buttons.

You roll your eyes and push his face away as you start to stand up. “You’re a pain in the ass, I hope you know that.” As bitter as you try to sound, you’ll always have a soft spot for him the way he does for you, especially when your bitterness is met with that beautiful smile of his. You hold out both hands, towering over him and urging him to stand. “C’mon, Jay.”

He leans his weight onto his hands, stubborn as always. “Will you stay the night?”

“Not if you keep this up, I won’t.” You lend him a condescending smile. 

“But Baby,” he groans, finally complying now that the stakes have been raised. “I haven’t seen you all day, and I miss you.” He starts to shuffle where he sits, taking hold of your hands as you pull him up, dizziness causing him to stumble into your arms. “Can’t a boy just get some love from his girl?” 

There he goes again—his girl. 

You loop his arm over your shoulder and wrap yours around his waist as you lead him into the Chateau, surrounded by his warmth and the smell that’s so distinctly him: a bit of beachiness, mandarin and musky from his body wash, a hint of marijuana.

“You’re very kind,” he rambles on, “for coming here so late. I missed you.”

“I know, baby. You told me.”

He makes his way up the steps with you, following as you open the door. “Well, I’m making sure you’re sure.”

“I’m sure, love.” You smile to yourself, a little caught off guard with how open he’s become.

“I still have to tell you that top secret information,” he whispers, leaning down to your ear-level. His body wraps around you as you stand in front of him to open the door to his bedroom, his arms start to wrap around your waist again. “And you still owe me kisses for it.”

You usher him into his room, shutting the door behind you. “C’mon, let’s get into bed. That was the rule.”

He does as you wish without complaint for once, though when he does sit at the edge of his bed, he also pulls you to stand in between his legs. “I’m in bed now.”

“I can see that,” you giggle, hands massaging his neck and shoulders.

“Does this mean you’ll give me a kiss now?”

“Not yet.” You tug at the fabric of his shirt. “Take this off, please?” You don’t think much when you say it, but once the words slip out and you see JJ’s brows raise as a cocky smirk crosses his face, you realize you need to cover your tracks.

He bites his tongue to oblige, nabbing the back of his tee before pulling it over his head. Revealed to you are his broad shoulders, his chest, those toned arms that are, admittedly, to die for, though you’d never tell him that directly. 

“You’re trying to undress me, baby?” he asks, too quick for you to correct yourself. His hands take purchase of your hips before taking up your thighs, his hands molding to your curves and getting treacherously close to your inner thighs.

Your face goes hot—why is he so good at this?—but you keep a straight face and grab his face, one hand cupping his jaw while the other supports the back of his head. “Do you want your kiss or not?” 

“Yes ma’am,” he responds, almost immediately. His eyes glaze over, entranced by everything you are. A drunk smile is sent your way, and he can’t really tell whether the tingling all over his body is just from the vodka, or if it’s your hands on his body, your snippy tone that he knows is full of love. He’s sure that no matter how flustered he can make you, it’ll never compare to how you make him feel with even the slightest of touches.

Your grip goes soft, and you rake your hand through his hair, his eyes falling shut and his head gone slack into your hands. “You’re beyond wasted, aren't you?”

He laughs heartily now, eyes still shut as he nods his head. “I can’t keep my eyes open any longer, princess.” Giggles line his words and his face scrunches in a smile, dimple on display.

“How much did you drink?”

“A few beers.”

“And?” You tug lightly on his hair.

“Mm, some vodka, maybe. A few shots.” His hands drag from the backs of your thighs, to your hips, to your waist.

“JJ.” You stare down at his clearly vodka-dazed face. “How many is a few?”

He hums to himself, as deep in thought one can be when wasted. “Maybe seven…or nine…don’t remember,” he mumbles.

You sigh to yourself, not surprised by his recklessness but still not all too happy with it. 

But before you can formulate a single thought, a single articulated response, he starts to pout—eyes still closed of course, because your boy is nothing if not a truth-teller. “You sound mad.” Even when wasted he knows you so well.

“I’m not,” you fib a little, for his own sake. You kiss his forehead, then his cheek before letting go of him entirely to pull back the covers for him. “Come on, time to sleep, yeah?” You give a soft tug on his hand as his body goes pliant.

He slowly but surely crawls properly into bed, giving you a show of his back muscles flexing and relaxing before falling face-first into his pillow with a hmph. You lay down next to him as he lifts his arm with all his might, slowly turning onto his side to make space for you. Legs intertwine without words, the warmth of his body blankets your senses, his weight grounds you.

“You need to hurry, princess. I need to…need to give you the information.” The words are half-muffled by his pillow, and his eyes are still shut. 

“Oh. We’re still doing that?” You’re surprised he even remembers the information at this point—whatever it might be. 

He squeezes you tighter into his body, pulling a smile from you as he groans. “Yes, we’re still doing that…it’s important. You need three more…”

“Okay, okay,” you soothe, and you press a kiss to his shoulder. “Does that count?”

“Mhm, two more.” A stupid, drunk, terribly charming grin crosses his face, and it feels like you’re falling for him all over again, teetering at the edge of a cliff. His arm, still heavy on your waist, shifts a little, and his fingers dance along your back and light fires where they touch.

You curl your hand, gently, along the crook of his neck and kiss his jaw. “And that counts as well?”

With the way you’re whispering your words into his neck, JJ swears he could die happily. “Mm, sure does.”

For the fifth and final kiss, the corner of his mouth. It curls into your kiss like he knew it was coming, and you give him one more just for good measure—and, maybe, because seeing him smile is worth his weight in gold. You brush your hand through his hair before hugging him a little tighter towards your chest, all too aware now that you won’t be getting any information out of him the rest of the night. This minor inconvenience, however, doesn’t seem to compare to having him in your arms, his breath against your neck, his arm wrapped around you to tell you he’s there, and he’s there to stay, and he wants to be there more than anywhere else.

You think that you could play this game a million times over. The part where you kiss him—that is, when his lovely, sweet little smile peeks through that rough shell—will never get old enough to retire.

(But for tonight, you can live without more of his drunken teasing. Just for tonight.)

[c0wb0yenthusiast]

❝Sweet as pie❞

Phillip Graves x Reader

So basically me and @sarahs-secrets2 exchanged ideas and I hope I did it justice!

Summary - you're a waitress and you're dealing with a particularly cocky regular.

✮

The sun was peeking over the horizon, hazy colours still swirling in the sky as you parked outside the café and opened up for the day. It was quiet, except for the sound of cars speeding by. It was only a stop n' go after all.

Buttoning up your uniform and now stepping out to see an array of customers filling up the booths, chattering away as you passed to get your notepad from counter.

That was until you heard a distinct voice.

"Hey, doll."

Your head swivelled around quickly to meet with him.

For the past week, this cocky, smart-mouthed man had sat in the same booth. For the past seven days, playing out the same exact routine.

"God, is it just me or do we keep running into each other?", he smirked, removing his aviators from his face and tucking them into his shirt pocket.

"Hi. Again. Do you want the usual?", you rested your hands on your hips, letting out a sigh. You'd met many douchebags in this café and he wasn't any different from the rest.

"Of course. You know me so well, already. Why don't you sit down and we can get to know each other a little more?", he grinned, batting his lashes innocently up at you.

He's just another country bumpkin who's trying to get laid.

"Honey," you smiled back at him, "I'd love to have coffee and hookup in the back of your lovely little jeep parked outside, but I'm actually quite busy because I have a life. Okay?"

He took a moment to process what he heard, before breaking out into laughter.

"Honey? Oh, girl, you're just adding fuel to the fire."

You didn't respond, tapping away at the tiled floor with the sole of your foot. You wanted to stay longer, but this café, the customers and the overstimulation it brought made you bossy and unsociable.

"Ah, are you alright?", the chuckles died down and he now raised a brow at you.

"I'm fine, I just- I really need to get to work."

"Sure thing, doll. Come talk to me when you're free."

The whole time you rushed from one table to another - he was still there. Sitting idly with his cup of coffee, fumbling with the dog tag hanging around his neck. You could feel his eyes boring into you every time you passed by his booth.

He always ordered the exact same thing: 'A black coffee - and keep em coming, darling.'

After running through the majority of the day around the café, it started to quiet down and people were filing out slowly but surely. Only a couple lingered by the afternoon, including him.

Slowing your steps, you approached his table again, he seemed a little taken aback to see you once more.

"Hey."

"Hi.", you breathed, letting out the pent up air you seemed to be holding in this whole time.

"Take a seat.", he nodded in front of him, to which you obliged and attained yourself not to collapse into the booth.

"What's it like?", you blurted out loud, now setting off a panic in your head yet keeping calm - mainly due to how tired you were at the moment.

"Hm?"

"Not having to run around and serve entitled customers?"

He let out a low chuckle, "It's alright, but I'd rather be here than my job."

"How come?"

He shifted in his seat, making his biceps flex under the short sleeves of his t-shirt.

"I'm going to be deployed soon, so I just thought I might enjoy my last couple of days until work. It's nothing, really." he added, seeing the way your expression softened.

"I can't believe you just told me all that-"

"Well-"

"And I don't even know your name!"

This made him grin, before lifting off his dog tag and sliding it across the table.

You caught it clumsily, eyeing the writing.

"Phillip?"

"Mhm, now what am I supposed to call you?"

You let out a fake gasp, "Did you ever bother to read my name tag? Or were you too busy looking at my tits?"

He shrugged, definitely the second option.

"I don't have to tell you, do I?"

Before he could reply, you leaned over the table and pushed out your chest slightly, your badge shining from the dimmed rays of the sun.

Graves blinked, his eyes widening and now reading the name.

"Y/n. That was a.. forward way to ask for my number.", he now fished in his pocket, bringing out a beaten phone with a car as the background.

You snorted, still practically laying on the table to meet him, "Alright, hand it over. Maybe this will help you when you're lonely at work."

Now tapping in your number, you turned the phone over in your hand. "How come it's so broken? I thought you guys get paid."

"Of course we do, but all of that goes to my other stuff.."

".. Like?"

"I don't know, my car, food, er... My car?", he mumbled hesitantly, now listing things under his breath.

You couldn't help but laugh, "That's nice, at least you're not engrossed in your phone."

"Darling, I only have that thing to call people, I don't need it for anything else."

You weren't focusing on his voice, just now seeing the scar on his cheekbone.

"Mhm.."

He caught your lingering stare, "I'd love to tell you the story, but I think you're too special for the tactics I use on all the other women who flock to me."

You grinned, sliding his phone back at him to which he clumsily caught, "You're the one who came to me."

"Sure, darling, have it your way.", he seemed to relax in his seat, gaze still fixated onto you.

After a small amount of silence, you cocked a brow, "What?"

"hm?"

"Do I have something on my face?"

"No, no.. I was just thinking about something.."

"What is it?"

He let out an amused huff, "Why should I tell you?"

"Because I'm bored."

"Alright.", he put his glasses back on his face, "How about we go for a ride?"

What?

"Excuse me?"

"I mean, you're bored and I've already paid my bill so we're off the hook-"

"But-"

"Don't fret, doll. I'll buy you dinner too, okay?"

That definitely shut you up.

[foaming-sea]

Different people have different thought patterns. This is how I imagine some of them, but I need help/advice.

Person 1: Dark, too dark, need to get out of here, get out get out get out help me no no no don't think like that i'm scared no one will ever find me caves are dumb and scary why why why am i even here i'm dying too wet too damp i'm drowning out of water no no no no no no no…

Person 2: So cool! I love these trees! Blue and yellow birds, what are they called again? I don't remember. I'll look at that bird book again when I get home. SO PRETTY! Bluest sky ever seen, marshmallow clouds. I wonder what's for lunch. I can't believe I've never noticed how much clover there is here before. I'm excited! I'm coming back tomorrow!

Person 3: ...only four stones... ...lucky they're gone or I'd make them leave... ...annoying idiots... ...who cares, anyway, no one knows... ...if they make me eat baloney one more time I will throw up in their faces... ...ha ha ha the look on their faces is priceless... ...the nerve... ...they'll be sorry... ...dumb rooster I'll wring it's neck if it crows one more time... ...no more plates... ...that guy looks ridiculous…

Person 4: This papaya was boring. Just kind of boring all the way through. Normally I like papayas, but this one was boring. Maybe I'll eat another one after this one. But what if that one is boring too? I need a nap. Naps are nice. I'd feel better after a nap. I wouldn't be so sleepy. Naps aren't complicated. Maybe I'll eat another papaya and then take a nap. Maybe this time it won't be boring. I don't want another boring papaya. Maybe it's sweet. I hope it's sweet.

Person 5: That guy looks shy. I glanced at the map earlier, and it said that the trains go northeast. Why is that bird flying so fast? Something must have scared it. I hope the people here like me. Heavy, humid air, it'll rain soon. Hot, itchy. That building needs a new paint job. Person in front of me looks scared, glancing around and trying to look smaller than she is. Up to something? Or shy? Just nervous? Wonder who she is. Blue raincoat, kinda pretty. I like blue. That store over there, I'd better remember that for later. I'm hungry. Pizza place over there, tacos three streets over, or I could go to the grocery store and cook later. I've got 15 dollars to spend. Wet, did it rain earlier? Apartment Stinton Rd, 386. Should be close. Getting nearer to that part of town. Maybe I could see if they have good clothes at the thrift shop, I kinda need some. I only have two outfits, and I need to wash them both. I wish mosquitoes were extinct. Kid looks tired. Nap time? Somebody dropped a penny. Map said go left from Cranberry, I think that's the next street over. I miss home. Too bad, shush, don't think about it, wasn't my fault. If I start crying, I am a baby, a silly baby. I can handle it. Shush. Dark in a couple hours. Pretty trees, they painted it with limestone to keep the bugs from burrowing in it. I wonder if bugs are a problem here. I hope there aren't any termites. Termites are a nuisance. If that person says one more rude word they will be written across his face in blood. Oof, no, don't think like that. I have no right to think that, if I'm the kind of person to want to hurt someone. I should get sandwich stuff, and maybe treat myself to a candy bar. No, I don't deserve a candy bar. There are too many people here. I wonder what it feels like to be a plant trying to grow in a sidewalk crack. Hard enough, and then some dummy steps on you quite frequently. Gotta check my phone when I get home. I hope the plumbing works at the apartment. I want a shower. Avocados a dollar a bag, ok that's worth it. Must be close to expiration. I'll get tomatoes and chips and lemons and make guacamole. Maybe the apartment will have a fridge. Glad this stuff isn't expensive.

Keep in mind that person 5 is thinking all this in the same amount of time as person 4.

Person 6: When I get home, I’m going to write down those ideas. I have to. The sunrise is so pretty. I remember that poem from Robert Frost. Nothing gold can stay. That one. That one has a lot of meaning. I remember reading The Outsiders a while ago. It’s powerful. I’d like to write that powerfully one day. Maybe I could sketch a leaf on the top of the page. I should have brought my notebook. Maybe I could write about a squirrel. They’re so energetic, and fun. Smart, too. Like a hummingbird. Flashes of color, hovering almost like they don’t need wings to fly. How do they hover so steadily while flapping so fast? I could paint one. Bright blues, purple and orange/yellow feathers. Maybe a squirrel in the background.

Person 7: AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!

Person 8: No more, no more, no more. Think of nothing, nothing at all. Go blank. No, calm down. Calm down. Not my fault, no freaking out, just calm down. I got nothing to say, nothing to say, nothing. Time to go away, away, no more of this. No reason, they’re not mad. Look calm, calm, look okay. Just go blank. Nothing, empty, please, just nothing. No reminders. Just hush. Gotta do your math. Math. Focus on math. 2X times -7, gotta know that. 2X times -7. 2X times seven. Fourteen, now make it negative. No, focus. -14X. Focus. Nothing else.

Person 9: ....................................................I kind of have a headache..........................................................I'm tired......................................................hmm, I wonder if I should do something with my life......................................................but what... I don't know what to do........ I'm kinda hungry.......... *spends 45 minutes figuring out what to eat........ spends another 2 hours making it....... why don't I feel good...................................................maybe I'm hungry!......... spends another hour making and prepping food..............................................I'm sad.......................maybe I should do something with my life............................ *finally gets up and does something... this is awesome! The sky is beautiful, I love the way that the clouds frame the sun.... that tree is so elegant... ooh, flowers! Do they smell good? Yes! It's incredible that all of this was made for us, I take it for granted too often...... one hour later................................................. why don't I feel good?............ Maybe I'm hungry?.......................

I'm not sure what you need help with. But this definitely how people think. Different people have different thought patterns. then again, one single person have different thought patterns too. Depends on the situation they are. For an example, I picture my thought pattern as similar to person 5. Sometimes it's like person 6 too, that usually happens when I'm in writing mood. When I'm very panicked over something it's like person 8. So I'd say the way you are imagining these thought patterns are very valid. If you need help or like me to discuss somethings specific about these thought patterns then let me know. This was interesting to read through.

[foggyauthor]

Hello friends. I'm writing this in advance because there's a very good chance that my therapist will decide I'm a danger to myself and therefore have me taken to the mental hospital. ((I am now on the way to the hospital))

Tw suicidal ideation and mental illness

I've been trapped inside a dissociative episode since march 2021, and I am tired. I wrote a song about it to help my family understand my suffering, and I'll share the lyrics with you here.

Got up one morning to everything faded

Stared at the ceiling as I tried to wake up

But that lingering feeling of "am I still dreaming"

It follows me daily, did I ever wake up?

Did I ever wake up?

Something is very wrong with me

I don't see the way I used to (everything looks fake and distorted, as if I'm in a world made up of cardboard cutouts and npcs)

Something is very wrong with me

Someone tell me what I should do

I'm stuck in a dream

In the clouds, can't come down

Wanna put my feet upon the ground

My head's up in space and I can't concentrate

Nothing feels real, no one feels real

Walls don't feel like borders, like my hand can go right through

And standing upon the floorboards, feels like I might just sink right through

I feel like I'm in a snowglobe whenever I look up at the sky

And when they look me in the eye, I can't see anything inside

Empty puppets all around me

Brought to life with cognitive empathy

I'm empty till I'm not

But then I'm just a character

Stuck in a dream

I've lost my grip on reality. It genuinely feels like I'm a character in a video game, and suicide feels as serious as turning the game off. I don't want to play anymore.

My emotions are either overwhelming or nonexistent. I'm either sobbing from helplessness or completely empty inside.

I'm bored of this character named Holly/foggyauthor. If this was a game of skyrim, I would delete the save and start a new character. Personally, I'm looking forward to escaping earth and ascending to the higher realms. Or perhaps there's nothing at all after death, and everything just stops. That'd be okay, too. At least the suffering would be over, and I wouldn't be forced to be a pawn for the elites anymore.

I've been in therapy, I've taken their pills, but nothing helps. My condition is labeled as treatable, but there's no guarantee that I'll ever return to normal.

Time has become meaningless. Days pass, blended together, and I genuinely can't remember when things have happened unless I wrote down a date. How long have I been on medication? Three months? Six? A year? I have no idea. I can have entire conversations with people and have no memory of it, frustrating the people around me.

Half the time I feel like I'm not even actively playing, instead watching a cutscene of my character as it moves through the world. I still see through my own eyes, it's not a third person pov, but I'm not the one choosing what words to say, or what actions to take. I'm just a spectator in my own body.

I've lost the ability to drive because of the vision distortions and hallucinations, but people want me to relearn how to drive anyway. For example, I see shadows of animals and people that aren't there. As a passenger, I thought a black car in the road was a heat shimmer, and had I been driving, I would've hit it at full speed.

I lost my job due to the pandemic, and have recently run out of money, so I can't live on my savings anymore. I desperately don't want to have to work for the rest of my life, selling my labor to a corporation happy to exploit me. Honestly, this is the final straw pushing me toward quitting the game.

There are things I like about this dream, like my animals, my friendships, my family. My music, my writing, my games. But if the trade off is selling my free time to barely have any left for those things... I don't want to do it anymore.

I want out of this hellscape. I don't want to play anymore.

It's frustrating because everyone I've talked to about my feelings tells me I'm thinking too big and it's causing existential dread. It's fine that you can ignore reality enough to survive, but why must you force me to do the same?

Everyone has advice to make my life worth living, but I don't want to be saved. I've given up. I don't care anymore.

I want out.

I didn't choose to be born into a world where I'm destined to be a wage slave. I should at least have the choice to take myself out. My body, my life, my choice. Why am I the crazy one for seeing the world as it is and not wanting to participate anymore?

In a world where the economy is on the brink of collapse, prices only getting higher while wages stay the same, the fucking pandemic. Just let me die, please. Let me out. I want out.

I can logically recognize that there are people who love me and want me to stay alive, but when those people don't feel real... Of course the characters in a dream don't want you to wake up. They'll stop existing if you do. It makes sense. I get it.

I guess I'm selfish because I rank my own feelings above theirs, but isn't it equally selfish to force someone to play a game they can't stand? I don't want my beloved npcs to feel sad because of me, but I feel like I have to make the decision that's best for me.

I want to escape. I want freedom. I want release. I want it to be over.

I'll do what you're never supposed to do when suicidal and be honest with my therapist. It'll probably result in me being locked up for an undetermined amount of time, costing me even more freedom, taking me away from my pets and family and pastimes. I accept the risk. Maybe during my stay they'll legalize assisted suicide for the mentally ill, and I can take that path.

That's how I'd rather go, anyway. No chance of messing up and surviving with severe damage. No one has to deal with the trauma of finding my body. Everyone will see it coming and have time to mentally prepare. It'd be the kind thing to do, but I don't know if I have the patience to wait for that path to become available.

Thank you for reading, and I'll see you when/if they let me out.

[tonberry-yoda]

Early Morning Drive - Present Mic (Hizashi Yamada)

Pairing - Present Mic (Hizashi Yamada) x f!reader

Warnings - none!

Word Count - 668

Notes - I really like Present Mic, like he is so fun to write for oml. This one has such a good aesthetic. Enjoy!

“Babe! Babe, wake up!” Hizashi tried shaking her awake, but she pushed his face away, pulling the sheets over her head. He rolled his eyes and pulled the blanket away, kissing her on the cheek. “Please wake up.” She opened one eye, a small smile creeping onto her lips. “I see that smile.” She pushed his face away again, his glasses pressing against his face. “What do you want, Zashi?” Her voice was sleepy and her eyes did not want to stay open at all. “Can we go on a night drive?” She sighed and picked up her phone, seeing it was four in the morning. “Zashi. Babe. It's-” “I know what you’re about to say, but I just really wanna go for a drive.” “Go by yourself.” She pulled the sheets over her head again and rolled over as he sighed, patting the blanket. “Fine. Just wanted to offer though.” Hizashi sighed and walked down the stairs, grabbing his keys off of their corresponding hook, his smile gone. He stepped out into that beautiful early morning air. No one out. Everyone was asleep. It was his favorite time of day. He loved going for a drive when he had that beautiful nostalgic feeling.

As Hizashi got in the car and started it up, flipping through the radio, he heard a knock on his window. She was standing in front of his door with her blanket wrapped around herself, a small smile on her face. He quickly unlocked the passenger side and she crawled in, immediately getting comfortable. “Seatbelt on, babe. Safety first.” He nearly crawled over her just to get her seatbelt on and she just giggled. “I could’ve gotten that myself, Zashi.” “I know, I know,” he giggled and backed out of their driveway, soft tunes playing in the background. “I just feel bad for waking you up so early.” “Don't feel bad. I love early morning drives with you.” She grabbed the hand that wasn't on the steering wheel and started playing with his fingers, watching the sun trying to fight the darkness of the night sky. “Babe?” “Yes, Mic?” “Uh… deep talk?” She nodded and rolled down her window, the early morning air hitting her tired figure like a brick. A soft, caring brick. “I don't wanna be a hero anymore.” She turned over, a little shocked. “What?” “Yeah. I'm getting tired. I'm only thirty and I feel fifty-eight. Y’know?” She squeezed his hand and he squeezed back, his eyes scanning the road. “I mean, you do have two other jobs, Zashi. You could just quit being a hero.” “It's not that easy,” his voice was shaky, like he could just cry. “If I quit being a hero, I can't do my radio show because that’s pretty much all about me being a hero. And I definitely couldn't teach a hero course,” he blinked away tears, still watching the road. “I'm just… tired. Everyone expects so much out of me. Conventions. Autographs. Podcasts. Interviews. Teaching. Saving the goddamn city. I'm just really tired. I feel like I haven't slept since my first year of high school.” “I know, Zashi. I know.” She leaned over and kissed him on the cheek, cupping the other side of his face. “I wish you could just quit.” “What about you?” He turned to face her as they were at a red light. “You do hero stuff. Isn't it exhausting?” She nodded, a soft giggle following. “Especially when they expect you to work with other heroes. Like that asshat, Hawks.” Mic giggled and started driving again, the sadness and worry fading from his voice. “Maybe I'm worrying too much. I think I'm just gonna keep doin’ what I'm doin’ and see what happens. If I really don't like it, I'll quit.” “Good idea. Though, you should take a vacation in the next two weeks. I think you need it.” He giggled and pulled into a breakfast drive-thru. “I think I will. Now what do you want? It's on me.”

[yanderegrizzsworld]

Yandere Silco & Jinx: Blood is Thicker than Water (Team-up/Platonic Scenario)

TW/CW: Blood, murder, implied stalking/strangulation, use of firearms, bruises & auditory hallucinations

A.N: While on the search for some fitting music for another fic, I end up listening to the Arcane soundtrack which led to me writing this fic. Enjoy.

Running the cloth across the wooden counter, you hum silently to yourself, the scent of liquor lingering in the air as faint music plays from its jukebox. Retrieving the fabric, you crack your knuckles & resume with another sweep as the tune blurs to white noise. "Another tired day?" Thieram nervously chuckled while he simultaneously sluice a mug as he turned to face your back. "Yeah, especially from her..." You face your bar companion, walking over next to him & dipping your hand in the detergent water to rinse the cloth. Feeling the tepid, clear liquid brought you some level of tranquility, especially from the dour streets of Zaun.

"You seem extra exhausted, do you maybe want something to drink? It might help" Thieram rests a hand on your shoulder, eyes meeting he offers a frail smile as he grabs another mug & resumes to cleaning more glass cups. "I'd like a drink, how about it, yeah?" The addition of the playful voice has you tense up, out of the corner of your eye, you notice sky blue hair styled in braids that you know far too well. "J-Jinx! What do you want now? I‐ Um..." Thieram goes mute, staring at the floor before snatching your cloth & scrubs away at the bar counter.

"Well? I'm waiting for my drink. I want my usual, please and thank you!" Jinx giggles as she plays with the ends of her braids like a bored child. You sigh before pouring some grog in a glass cup & adding a straw. Treading her way, you slide the mug at her slowly. As you're about to turn & walk away, a cool chill runs up your arm as you feel whetted nails poke harshly at your skin. "Hey bud, how come you don't hang out with me anymore?" She pouts at your direction while simultaneously playing with the straw, you subtly look at Thieram who is avoiding looking at your direction.

"Do you not like playing with me anymore?" While still having that sad look on her face, there's a faint hint of vemon on her tongue. You swallow hard, you move your hands under the counter to hide their trembling. "I'm... not tired of playing with you. It's just that- You know, working at the Last Drop & having to deal with countless customers and the streets here aren't forgiving so-" Each word fell out your mouth with increasing speed & you felt like you were about run out of breath. You seize a random mug from under the counter in an endeavor to calm your nerves. "hm, why don't you just quit? I'm sure Chuck can handle things by himself, yeah?" She clasps her hands as she takes a few gulps from her drink, sighing & snickering as she parts from the straw.

"H-Hey! It's Thieram, now. Call me Thieram" His words fall on deaf ears as she lifts the straw up from the cup with her mouth & grasps it between her pointer & middle finger, "Chill out Chuck, no harm down" Jinx swirls around, abruptly standing up & making her way over the counter. You struggle against Jinx as she tugs at your arm roughly. "Jinx! I can't just leave, I have to finish up my shift. I can't afford to lose this job!" Her tugging halts, eyes just staring at you but she seems to be lost in her thoughts. You cautiously removed her grasp on you & back away at a turtle's pace, fearing any sudden motions will cause an episode from the lapis haired girl.

Jinx mumbles something incoherent as she hoists her head to stare at the ceiling. After a few seconds of torturous silence, Jinx snatches the cup & drinks the liquor in one gulp. "Thanks for the drink! I appreciate it. I'll see you soon!" She boops your nose as she exits the vacant bar. Your stare remains at the doors as if waiting for her to pop up again to reveal she never left. "You...still need to help close things up..." Thieram rubs the back of his neck avoiding to make eye contact like getting caught telling a lie. You sough, inspecting the counter, "At least she didn't leave a bomb" You hear Thieram sigh in relief just as you snatch a couple mugs & begin to rinse them, allowing the faint tune to ease your mind.

♡♡♡

Each step felt hefty, a cough rising up your throat & escaping you mouth from the amount of smoke from the cigarettes surrounding you. You grip onto the timber handrails, gliding your hand as you tread up towards the second floor. The wallpaper fading off revealing the decayed wall with some patches of coal black. The second floor, while seeming in much better shape than the space below, still had fragments of chipped wallpaper & the smell of rot idled, each step provoked a creak from below with dents visible on the ground.

Standing in front of an entrance, you seize the handle of the door taking a deep breath. Opening the door laggardly, glancing around the room before quietly stepping inside. The scent of smoke, while to a less degree, dawdle in the space nearly provoking another cough if you didn't clasp a hand over lower face. The room was antiseptic, aside from some specks of dust & cobweb in the corners, it had an off sense of comfort from the sullied exterior.

You glance over at the desk ahead with the back of the chair facing you. A tiny tint of light flashes by a small mirror disc accompanied by a low hum. Crimson red can be seen clearly on the mirror glancing at you, "Ah, it's you" A low chuckle emits from the Eye of Zaun, turning to face you, you stand there keeping your arms to your side & peer at the head of the undercity like a deer in headlights. "I suppose everything went well in the Last Drop?" Silco lights a cigar awaiting a response.

You eye around the room debating if you should take a step forward or not. "You don't need to stand so far, you can walk closer if you choose to" Silco hoists his head to stare at the ceiling as clouds of smoke rise before it fades away, you hesitantly inch your way closer to Silco, "Can I...take a seat?" you grasp the chair & lightly pull it back, his gaze meeting yours for a few seconds. "Of course, take a seat. You seem quite tired" He huffs a quiet snicker as you perch yourself down on the seat, "Yeah, lots of customers today and...an unexpected last one that made my shift go longer"

Silco places the cigar into the ashtray before leaning back on his chair, "I see, but you managed. That's much more than I can say about the lost souls on our streets, yes?" Talking with Silco, while something you did quite regularly by either Jinx dragging you her lair to hang out or Silco himself calling you over to discuss, still had you tense fearing that if you don't hold it together you'll never see the light of day again.

"Is something on your mind?" Silco lifts himself of his chair & walks toward you, you subconsciously begin to play with the edges of your clothes, his gaze feeling intense on you. "Is someone bothering you?" Your chair is abruptly turned around & before you know it, you're staring at Silco with his nose scrunched as his red & blue eyes seem to have some fire behind them. "Give me a name and I'll take care of the rest" The feeling of his cold hand land on your arm causes you to jolt, the coolness of his palm feeling like being electrocuted. You've heard of the Eye of Zaun having a cold touch but never realized how chilly it was.

"No! No, nothing's bothering me" You brush your fingers against your arm, feeling the gelid cool of his touch fade. "I actually came here to tell you something that I think you'd be interested in hearing" You reach a hand out slightly but leave it hanging not knowing what to do with it before lowering it back on your lap. "I'm a busy man, but I can spare some time for you" Silco let's out chuckle before returning to his seat & picking up his cigar once more. "You have my fullest attention, my friend"

"Thank you. When I was done with my shift at the Last Drop & was in the Lanes, I noticed something soaring through the sky. It had a green tint and I know I probably shouldn't have but..." you avoid eyeing the man in front of you, already feeling his eyes narrow at you, he raises a brow as he smokes. "Go on" His voice stern, he rests his arms on his desk , returning the cigar in the ashtray. "I followed it to where it went, out of curiosity. I know it was dumb and I could've gotten hurt but I saw that it was a firelight! And it said something about going to one of your factories and when i heard that i thought it'd be smart to tell you" You reluctantly look at Silco, awaiting him to yell or be infuriated by your careless actions, saying how you could've been seen.

Silco remains silent, leaning his head back, seemingly pondering on what you said. "So I have a trail of those pests, hm. I least I'll be preparing now, thank you, my friend. But please do be careful" He looks at you, giving you a faint smile, "Of course, but also, one more thing" You stand up from the seat, hands resting on the head of the chair as your fingers faintly drum on the chair, "I heard them say someone about getting them for the plan but they never said a name. I'm guessing they're going to try and capture one of your workers?" "Probably, but we won't know until it happens. But I'll have preparations ready so dont worry" You hum in approval, the distant sound of chatter ring in your ears. "I request something from you, up in Piltover. I hope it's not much to ask"

♡♡♡

The streets of Piltover were the complete antithesis of those of the Lanes or Zaun. The sun reflecting on the marble ground made the routes appear to glow, buildings standing with pride without a tint of soil as those around you chattered away without a care in the world. Walking up to a local academy, you sigh in relief seeing as no one was out in the halls, speculating all the students were attending their classes now. Strolling through the corridors, the feeling of eyes on you causes you to slouch a bit like a weigh on your shoulders as your steps slowed down, much to your dismay.

The murky hail of footsteps echoed in the corridor, you turn to look behind you but are met with nil, you resume pace until your ears capture giggles. You freeze up as the footsteps get closer, "Hey, I did say I'd see you again, didn't I?" By the tone of her sportful voice, you froze up unable to move like a corpse. "Nice outfit! Really makes you look like you're from Piltover" You began to dash down the halls, panic consuming your train of thought. "Huh? Hey! Where are you going?!" Jinx lays her head on her hands as she crouches down, on any other day yo would've tried to comfort her, but her seemingly following you here caused you to act on your fight or flight response as you kept running through the halls. "They're getting away!... You always scare away those close to you..." Jinx groans, hitting her head with her palms in a pathetic attempt to silence their voices.

"Shut up! I'm not scaring them away!" Jinx glances at you running off, lifting herself from her crouching position, "They just want to play...That's it! They just want to play with me!" Jinx twirls the end of her braids around her finger & without wasting another second, she begins to give chase, her cackling echoing through the corridor giving more reason to continue running, disregarding how tired you're getting. Turning a corner, you quickly hide within a classroom which was thankfully vacant. You press your face against the door as the sounds of rapid footsteps begin to disappear before all you can hear is silence.

You cautiously open the door, eyes widening in realization that if students were to leave their classes at this moment, Jinx without a doubt would decorate the area with her bombs. You hastily make your way through through the halls, listening in for any noise, you enter a random room to discover it to be a cafeteria. Tables neatly aligned with the other with enough room to move around in, you glide your hand on the smooth texture. "Excuse me, do you need any help?" You whip your head to the feminine voice, a girl with golden hair keeps a distance from you as her friend stands behind her with judging eyes. "Oh! um, no I don't. I just- Uh..." As you ponder on what to say, all three of you pick up on the sound of clinking as a small toy monkey lands between you & the girls. Recognizing the design anywhere, your gasp gets got in your throat as you harshly tremble, the girls seem baffled by the thing, just as the girl who called you was about to bent down to retrieve it, you shriek abruptly. "Don't touch it!"

Blue smoke invades the space & clouds your vision as you hide under one of the many tables. You can make out a figure opposite of the girls who were busy coughing up a storm to notice the figure until it spoke. "You aren't Y/N...hm, where are they?" The blue haired girl lifts a finger against her cheek just as one of the girls glance at Jinx as the smoke began to evaporate. "Who are you?!" The blonde girl shrieks as her friend bumps against the edge of a table, briefly groaning. "Did you throw that thing that exploded?!" Jinx perks up at the mention if her invention, her eyes brightening up, "It was cool right!? I'm quite proud of it. I'm sure I heard them here though, I'd love to hear what they would have to sat of it!"

Jinx clasps her hands as she bounces off the heels of her feet, she widens her eyes for a second before shaking her head with a scowl. "They wouldn't say something so terrible! They love my inventions!" Jinx waves her hand around as if shooing someone away. "Are you...?" The blonde ponders on the lapis haired girl in front of her, you hoist your hand up to your mouth in fear of Jinx hearing your breathing. You consider how to exit the space without them noticing you, Jinx snickers while swirling around, the blonde reaches behind her at her friend & snatching something from her. "What are you doing?!" The girl hangs onto the table as to not buckle, the blonde raises a pistol at Jinx, trying not to tremble in fright.

Jinx raises a brow before huffing at her, "I don't have time for a chitchat. I have a game to play with a friend here, now if you'll excuse me-" A shot is fired but misses, Jinx wheezes in amusement raising one hand up while the other reaches behind her. "If you wanted to play, you could've just asked... Shush Mylo, I'm sure they won't mind a little pause in our game" The girl fires again in panic, hitting the floor between Jinx's feet, Jinx lifts her arm to reveal her own firearm which she fires, hitting the other girl's leg.

The girl wails in agony as she collapses onto the floor gripping her leg tightly as she feels her warm blood seep through her fingers as tears begin to stream down her face. Another shot is heard which lightly grazes Jinx's arm, a hot sensation traveled through the braided girl's body as she traces her finger where the heat was, chuckling in merriment. "And here I was thinking you didn't even know how to hold a gun properly!" Jinx fired another shot, hitting the blonde's shoulder causing her to take a few steps back sucking in air through clenched teeth. You slowly crawl out of the table by the opposite side & make your way towards the door as quiet as a mouse.

"I won't let you hurt anyone here you psycho!" The blonde briefly glances at her friend, the girl is crying in pain as she drags herself away at a snail's pace. "You'll pay for hurting her!" The blonde lifts the gun, disregarding the seethes in pain as she fires two more shots. Jinx evades the bullets with ease, yawning in boredom as she twirls her gun around her finger, "Jeez, give me a real challenge here!" The blonde girl struggles to keep her head lifted as the blood loss from her shoulder seep down, forming a small puddle by her. "You've already shot five times, and with that pistol you have only one shot left" Jinx teases with mockery evident in her tone.

The girl feebly aims as Jinx cackles, raising her gun to the girl's friend with her finger ready on the trigger. You're right at the door, staring at the face-off, frozen in place with horror in your eyes fearing the two girl's fate. The girl fires the last bullet as she stumbles back gripping her shoulder & glancing at her friend. Jinx dodges the projectile with it almost hitting her side causing Jinx to silently wince, "Hit her side and you'll win..." She pulls the trigger on her gun with a deranged look on her features. The blonde shrieks in anguish holding her side as she feels her warm blood seeps, another shot is heard accompanied by the girl's friend crying loudly, too busy holding her leg to halt the blood from the other leg. Tears falls down both girl's cheeks as Jinx walks closer to both of them with a vast smile, you quietly exit the room, stumbling your way through the corridor attempting to run off from Jinx.

You stop your running, holding onto the cool wall as to not lose balance, you hear the sound of footsteps approaching but you're too tired at that point to move, waiting for Jinx to pick you up & drag you off. "Hey, are you okay? What's the matter?" A young woman strolls towards you, resting a hand on your cheek. The coolness of her touch feels electrifying, you subconsciously lean into her touch as you breath harshly. "Cafeteria- Two girls...gunshots" You struggle to muse the words above a whisper, the young woman's eyes lock on yours by your words. "Two students? Gunshots?! You stay here, I'll get enforcers!" Before you can respond, the woman runs off & out of your vision, you sigh in annoyance rubbing the bridge of your nose. "I need to get out of here before the enforcers get here" You contemplate getting Jinx but images of Jinx & her little twisted game of russian roulette flash in your skull, making you begin to walk off, hopeful not to get caught in the process.

♡♡♡

Jinx groans as she stretches from hours of being crouched, the lair hued with blues & lavender purples with specks of pink as fragments of creations scattered throughout the floor where, one wrong step & you better pray you end up on the floor of the rotors, music blaring through the record player sending tiny vibrations on the iron ground . Fleeting footsteps echoed as a particular tall man appears in Jinx's burrow as he looks daggers at the blue haired scientist. "Jinx" The girl doesn't acknowledge the presence too busy tinkering away, "Jinx" Still not loud enough, the man turns to the origin of the music & slams his fist on the player, provoking it to screech before silence fills their ears.

Jinx whips her head baffled at what disturbed her tune, "Oh hi Silco! Want something?" Jinx shifts to stand up, lightly stretching as Silco remains mute with a grimace. "Do you mind explaining what on earth you did today?" Silco crosses his arms with a finger tapping hurriedly on his upper arm, Jinx tilts her head with a raised brow, "Mind elaborating? I do plenty of stuff everyday" "A little bird told me that a gunfight occurred at an academy up in Piltover" Silco walks up to Jinx's desk, eyeing the handmade bombs with crayon drawing added, "They found a quite peculiar bomb with a distinct design on it" Silco crashes his palms against the timber table, the handmade items momentarily trembling from the force.

"Two random pupils gunned down, nearly dying of blood loss. What were you doing over there?!" Jinx rocks on her heel bones glancing at her father seemingly pondering on his words. "Well, I was just walking by Piltover and I saw Y/N enter the building and thought, hey, I haven't hung out with them in a long time so I decided to go in! And we finally got to play, but it was short lived though, damn kids ruining my fun" Jinx switches from hyper to somber like a flip of switch, playing with her braid with an exaggerated sigh emitting from her. "Do you have any idea how much damage you've done?! I'm never going to hear the end from Marcus" Silco turns to face Jinx, being met with her fiddling around with a screwdriver with a smile.

"Oh relax, you're the Eye of Zaun, you can handle anything!" Jinx prances around Silco as her titters fill the space around them. Silco seizes his daughter's wrist, hindering her motions, "That doesn't mean that you can get away with anything without consequence" The Eye of Zaun liberates Jinx's wrist as he steps away from her, the blue hues blurring on Silco's crimson collar giving off a tint of deep purple.

"Well, if maybe they didn't have so much work at the Last Drop, I would've have been so bored" Jinx sulks momentarily before a sparkle flashes in her eyes, "Maybe they should work with you personally on a desk job! Or have them be my partner on missions!" Jinx cheers with a large grin like a child getting a new toy. Silco sighs placing his fingers on the bridge of his nose with his other hand on his hips, "If I sent them to work with me from a desk that'll be more work for them to do and if I sent them with you, who knows what dangers you might bring to them. We don't want them dead now, do we?" Silco rests his palms on her shoulders, Jinx eyes the floor, contrition on her face as she lightly kicks her leg against the ground.

"Can you at least give them less shifts?" Jinx wraps her arms around Silco's torso as he remains silent. "I miss them..." Silco wrapped his arms bit by bit, contemplating his daughter's request. "I'll think about it, Jinx"

♡♡♡

The office door swings open, nearly crashing into the wall as Marcus enters the space in with heavy steps. The chair's back faces the Sheriff as a cloud of smoke is briefly visible before evaporating. "Weren't you ever taught to knock before you enter?" The chair swirls so that Silco now faces Marcus, the sheriff snatches the seat in front the desk & sits down, putting his headgear on the edge of the table. "Two girls at an academy were found bleeding profusely on the cafeteria floor with shot wounds" Two other enforcers stood beside the sheriff with some distance between him & the Eye of Zaun.

Silco hums in acknowledgement, laying his cigar in the ashtray & leaning back in his chair. "I'm aware of what has occurred, but don't worry, I'm having that situation sorted out" Marcus grips the the edge of the table, eyes narrowing, "Well, some of my men found this at the scene, and I'm sure you might recognize it" Marcus sets down a fragment of a grenade, some helix drawings of pink & blue scribbled on it. Silco remains quiet, gazing at it before lifting his head slightly to eye Marcus. "Like I said, I'm sorting it out as we speak, Marcus" "Another thing, a young woman claimed to have seen someone supposedly limping on the wall of a corridor, she says that they said gunshots, the girls and the cafeteria but was overall vague"

Marcus gently leans back as Silco raises a hand to his head, the other hand tapping on the desk quietly in rythm. "I see, do we know who this person exactly is?" Silco eyes the sheriff quickly, "No, the person dissapeared before enforcers arrived" Silco retreats his cigar just as he grabs a lighter, "Silco, the people of Piltover need to feel safe" "And do you want me to hand a random soul? Hooked to my shimmer? Barely able to make it pass a day in the Lanes or undercity?" Marcus sighs holding his head in his palms. "Those girls could have died, they might be too scared to attend classes" "Then tell them and all of Piltover that you found the threat and... made sure they'd never hurt anyone ever again, yes?"

Marcus promptly stands up, hands clenching on the desk, knuckles turning white. "I take care of the threat and you make sure the people feel secure, that is the deal" Silco leans forward, elbows resting on the table, the sheriff silently groans & turns around. "Fine, you better keep whoever almost murdered the girls on a leash, got it?" Marcus grabs his headgear as he begins to walk towards the entry, both enforcers trailing behind. "Of course" Silco eyes a drawer, grazing his cool fingers on the handle where his shimmer laid, the Eye of Zaun stares at Marcus briefly before eyeing the ceiling, Jinx's jottings doodled on full display, "Anything to shield those close"

♡♡♡

You don't know what happened. One moment you're walking along the streets of the Lanes & next thing you knew, you were running like hell. Bangs echoed throughout the streets, roaring rings in your ears as you dash around every corner in an attempt to hide from your chaser like a prey running it's predator. The echo of a shot being fired is heard before you collapse on the callous ground, a revolting hotness coursing through your leg. You groan in agony feeling your warm blood form a puddle beneath you, "Finally..." You hear the roaring quiet down & for a second, you presume that they left.

You're all of a sudden grabbed & lifted from the soiled ground & hoisted on someone's shoulder. Panicking, you start kick your chaser but your actions prove futile. "Quit it, unless you want to end up with a broken leg" A deep voice echoes through the avenue, you hear thundering as a tint of green is seen within your vision, "Shit, c'mon work with me..." He sough in chagrin, looking to the side at where the bridge is. "It's close enough, now don't make a noise, unless you want to deal with enforcers" You hang your head low as if in defeat as the man tramps his way towards the bridge.

Each of his steps rang on the bridge as the moonlight made the waters below glow with much beauty. The man holding you on his shoulder strolls by the edge as to not get caught by any of the enforcers. You feel this odd weight on your back but assume it to just be your captor, feeling too tired to fight back. You attempt to hoist your head to gaze at the dark sky, clear with visible beaming stars but out of the corner of your vision, you notice something peculiar, something blue. It vanishes by the time you blink, speculating that you're visualizing things that aren't there.

As you both reach the middle of the bridge, he looks over the concrete rails just as shots echo through the night. You're thrown to the ground feeling the small pebbles against your palms, the man quickly shrieks pressing his gloved hand to his side & retreating it to be met with blood coating his fingertips. Another shot & he turns to face the cause of the shots, blood flowing down his cheek like water in a river. Cackling rings around you two as the occasion hue of blue invades & fades from your vision. "Dammit! I don't have time for this" He motions to take hold of you but a bullet flies between you two, ceasing his movements. Ticking repeats that speeds up violently has you tense, a sudden explosion of smoke engulfs you two.

A dark figure walks up behind you as what seemed to be their hair, that appeared braided, bounced with every step. Before he could open his mouth, the figures dashes in front of him & smacks him with an uppercut with what you think is a heavy gun. "Hey! Are you alright?" the feminine voice rushes to your side cupping your cheeks as her pink eyes show concern within her irises. "Did he hurt you?" "Jinx..." You both hear the man groan as he begins to stand up, Jinx is quick to reveal her handmade pistol & fire at his leg, causing him to collide with the ground once more. "Shut it! I'm trying to protect them!" Jinx waves her hand around the air before letting it rest on the top of her head. The man jabs Jinx to the side as he roughly seizes you once more trying not to buckle from his leg wound, "Guys! I need some help up here!"

Deranged pink eyes stare with rage, Jinx stiffly lifts herself off the floor, "Damn Firelights...Always buzzing around where they shouldn't...!" Three firelights flew above you three momentarily before one, with a what seemed to be a mask in the form of a hummingbird, descend towards the man. "What happened? You got them, let's go" "We can't, not with her ass here" The hummingbird mask draws out a hatchet, the silver shining faintly from the moonlight, "I'll deal with her" The hummingbird mask woman wings towards the blue haired scientist as the man begins to move forward with you held tightly against his shoulder.

"Don't take them away!" Jinx evades the hummingbird's strikes, with aimed precision, Jinx shoots her board & she collapses to the ground with a groan. Jinx shoot the other direction, wail of anguish filling her ears. She walks up to the fallen hummingbird & directs her firearm against the firelights head, "I won't let any of you take them away from me" Jinx glances at her machine gun briefly at the edge of the sidewalk of the bridge, away from sight just as another firelight with an owl mask strives to withdraw Jinx's weapon. Jinx steps away & begins to fire away at those above. You stiffly get back on your feet & cling onto the indurate railings, the stone rubbing roughly against your palm.

In the distance, a few more figures stroll toward the brawl but are barely visible from your head banging harshly against your skull, holding your head in one hand as if suffering from a migraine. The figure in the middle raises its arm as a amethyst gleam emits from the figure on the right. The remaining firelight descends down to also seize Jinx's weapon but is pierced by a metallic arm hued in a purple glow. "Sevika!? How did you-" "You can't go a day without causing trouble, can you?" Sevika pins the remaining firelight by its neck, pressing her robotic arm against their windpipe as they claw at her arm to no avail. Jinx dashes to her machine gun just as the hummingbird woman gets on her board & flies above the two girls.

Jinx rapidly fires at the firelight with an unhinged look in her eyes as the firlight dodges her bullets. You tumble forward seeking not to get caught in the riot, the man seizes your arm abruptly tugging you back violently. You grunt in anguish as you struggle against his grip, the man is shunted against the concrete railings that would surely leave a bruise. A tall figure with purple specks littered throughout its face & neck turns to you & beckons you to ramble towards the figure ahead, gazing at the riot from a secure distance.

You pace towards the lanky figure with uneven steps, your breathing heavy as you hang your head low as to not get hit by Jinx's bullets. You don't look behind you fearing of witnessing the fate of the man who promptly held you hostage as you get closer to the remaining figure. It stood high with its arms behind its back, glancing with multicolored eyes that anyone from the undercity could recognize. Tumbling to the ground, you whip you head to see what was occurring. Flecks of blood painted the stone ground, Sevika was fighting with the firelight with the owl mask, blood running down her nose as she clawed at their face with her shimmered robot arm, leaving fresh marks & cracks on the mask. Jinx, with her machine gun, lands a blow on the board which then causes the firelight to plunge on the bridge.

The hummingbird firelight wouldn't go down without a fight though, they took out a pistol before firing it in Jinx's direction, the shot echoing as Jinx snickers, "You should learn how to aim better" She cackles as she steps near the fallen firelight. Disregarding her larger weapon for a smaller firearm, Jinx directs it on the firelight's head & before they could react, the trigger is pulled as the ringing of the shot fills Jinx's ears, blood splattered across her face with a wicked smile. You groan arching onward as the figure ahead steps forward & kneels in front of you, "I'm sorry I couldn't help you sooner" Silco rests a hand on your shoulder, glancing up to see Jinx walk up to the two of you, Jinx halts in her movements, eyeing you clutch your side as crimson red seeps through your clothes. "Are they alright?!" Jinx rushes to your side, trying to get you to remove you hand from the red spot on your outfit.

As she manages to seize both your hands, Silco gently touches your side, provoking you to wince as blood lightly tinted his fingertips. "It's bleeding slowly, we'll need to bandage them up" Jinx delivering picks you up, guilt on her face as she quietly shakes her head trying to ignore the voices in her head.

♡♡♡

Jinx paces back & forth rambling to herself as Silco leans back eyeing his daughter in distress. "What if shot was too deep? What if they're dying right now? What if-" Silco hoists himself up & treads towards his panicky daughter, resting on hand on her shoulder while the other caresses her cheek soothingly. Jinx grabs onto Silco's wrists, breathing erratically, "It'll be okay, Jinx" Jinx leans her head onto his chest, hugging him as Silco lifts a hand & gently pets her head. Books, papers & chemicals crowded together made the space within feel claustrophobic, essence of chemicals & shimmer lingered in the air as hues of green & purple were practically the only source of light within the area.

A dark cloaked figure appears from the darkness of the room, steps slow yet stern. Silco softly removes Jinx from his chest, purple tints with burn scars littered on the figure's upper face as it covers the lower part with a torn scarf. "How are they?" The figure takes sluggish steps around the two, gliding his hand by the substances before hindering his movements by a giant cylinder with a lizard like creature floating in the liquids, tubes covering its mouth & scattered throughout its body as if to keep it alive. "They'll live, just need to rest" Silco glances at the man before eyeing the dying creature, "The mutation must live on" The man lays his hand on the cylinder, the lukewarm liquid with his chilly touch feeling almost electric. "You understand, don't you?"

Silco waves him away, guiding Jinx with him in the space you're resting in. Your side clothed in bandages, blood sluggishly seeping & painting the bind cherry red. A noticeable contusion on your arm, presumably when the firelight grabbed your arm when attempting to walk away, Silco touches the blemish as tenderly as possible, red with tints of blue & purple color your arm as you slightly flinch by his cold touch.

Jinx leans against the stone wall, eyes examining the room as well as subtly kicking her foot quietly. "Can I take them with me?...With us?" Silco turns his head raising a brow, Jinx pushes herself off the wall & strolls towards the both of you, hair bouncing with each step. "Jinx, we can't just-" "I'll have them in my lair, my room. Practically no one besides you or them knows where it is, don't you think that would be safer? A place no one else knows about beside us?" Silco hums processing her question & statement.

He sees where Jinx is coming from, a place where you can easily rest without distraction & he can visit without the fear of you being hurt. But then that leaves Jinx, unstable mental health & seemingly hears voices in her head of those long gone from when she was Powder. Silco stands up, dusting off his shoulder, "Do you promise not to let harm come to them? Not even by your episodes?" Jinx seizes your hand, thumb rubbing counter clockwise on the back of your hand. "Yes, I promise! I'll make sure they get all the rest they need...Oh! It'll be like playing nurse, how fun!"

Silco eyes those who still have some level of strength in them as two begin a brawl for a tiny tube of shimmer, looking back where he lost saw his daughter Silco then eyes the statue of his old friend who he at a point in his life called a brother. "I'll do anything to liberate Zaun from Piltover" Silco faintly chuckles as he paces towards his daughter's direction, vowing to protect both you & Jinx from the clutches of the city above.

In a heartbeat, Jinx picks you up letting your head rest on her chest & commences her journey to her home. Silco walking out the room, he glances at the man who eyes him in question, the Eye of Zaun merely shrugs as he exits the area & returns on the streets of the undercity. Souls cowering on the streets, fatigued & thirsty as children rummage through trash for something to entertain themselves with. Silco gazes at a pair of blue braids turning the corner before disappearing from his sight.

[rubysunnday]

bloody hands | k.b

A/N: this is my first time writing for ye old kazzle dazzle and i'm terrified, lol (i'm also shit at summaries)

Summary: Kaz never feels the need to explain his entire plan. He knows that, whatever happens, it will inevitably go according to plan. But when his plan goes wrong and Y/N is injured, Kaz is suddenly forced to comprehend with the skeletally hand of death once again.

"So, was the gunfire part of the original plan?"

Kaz shoot Y/N a withering look - one that would have anyone in their right mind turning around and running. Y/N just beamed at him.

"No, it wasn't," Kaz replied, glowering at her. "Jesper shouldn't have started so early."

"He's on time," Y/N reminded him.

"For Jesper that's early."

"True."

Y/N and Kaz ducked back behind the wall as bullets whizzed past them smashing into the houses behind them.

"So, we are being fired at because you couldn't be bothered to explain the full plan," Y/N said, trying not to glare at Kaz.

"No, we're being fired at because Jesper's timing is horrendous," Kaz snapped.

Jesper, as if summoned, suddenly appeared at Y/N's side, sliding to a stop on the slippery cobbles. "Right, that's that, then."

Y/N narrowed her eyes. "What -"

She was cut off being a tremendous explosion from inside the warehouse they'd all just being chased out off. Smoke billowed into the air and flames rolled up into the sky. The men who had been firing at them all exclaimed and ran off to the warehouse, leaving the alley empty.

"Well, you could have done that sooner, Jes," Y/N muttered stepping out from behind the wall.

"Well, of course, but then what's the point, love?" Jesper asked, winking at her,

Y/N began to laugh but was cut off as a more gunshots echoed through the street. She ducked and Jesper pulled her behind a barrel as he fired back at the lone gunman, hitting him in the shoulder as he ran off.

"You alright?" Jesper asked, panting. He glanced at Y/N who was nodding, albeit shakily.

"I'm fine," she said, peeking her head over the top of the barrel and slowly standing up. "Nearly died, but I'm fine."

"You didn't nearly die," Kaz drawled, walking over to them.

"We all nearly died, Kaz, all because you can't explain any plan in full detail!" Y/N yelled. "Inej almost got stabbed!"

"But she didn't," Kaz replied, glancing up at the roofs where Inej was inevitably haunting.

Y/N glanced over at Kaz and let out an exasperated sigh. "Would it kill you to actually explain a plan in whole? It would make our lives so - ah."

She cut herself off with a gasp of pain. Y/N lost her footing as she stumbled forward. and Jesper grabbed her, wrapping one hand around her waist, the other snaking around to rest on her back.

"Hey, you ok?" Jesper asked, his dark eyes full of concern as he supported almost the full weight of Y/N.

Y/N glanced down at her side and noticed a dark patch spreading from just under her right breast, staining her waistcoat. She raised a shaking hand to the blood stain and let out a surprised gasp as her hand came away wet with blood.

"Oh."

The sight of the blood on her hand seemed to push her over the edge and Jesper exclaimed as her legs buckled. His grip tightened as he caught her and gently lowered her to the cobbled street, kneeling down with Y/N and putting her head in his lap.

"Inej!" Jesper yelled, unable to see where the Suli girl had vanished too.

Kaz stared as blood dripped onto the cobble stones. His mind was still watching Y/N yell at him for being him. It wasn't meant to happen like this. His grip on the crow's head of his cane was almost crushing and he could feel the tiny, delicate beak cutting into his hand through his gloves.

Y/N was dying because of him.

If he'd told them what his actual plan was or if he'd just told her.

Y/N's hand was pressing against her right side, Jesper's hand covering hers as he helped put pressure on her side. The blood was seeping over both of their hands, staining them red.

Inej suddenly appeared out of the shadows, hurrying over to Y/N's side in silence. She unwrapped her scarf from around her head and began wapping it around Y/N's side as Jesper moved Y/N's shaking hand away from the wound. Jesper carefully lifted Y/N up as Inej meticulously wrapped it around, trying to slow the bleeding.

"We need Nina," Inej said aloud as she tied her scarf in a knot, securing it around Y/N's side. She looked expectantly over at Kaz.

Kaz was clenching his jaw tightly. He forced himself to swallow the fear and the mental image of Y/N lying next to Jordie on the Reaper's barge. "She's at the White Rose. Bring her to the Slat."

Inej nodded. She cast Y/N a worried glance before she climbed up a drainpipe and vanished into the clouds, leaving no sign she'd ever been there except the now bloody scarf around Y/N's side.

"Jesper, your face looks weird without a smile on it," Y/N said softly, her left hand finding his, their fingers entwining.

Jesper forced himself to smile down at her. He smoothed back her hair from her face, tucking it behind her ear. "Sorry, love."

Y/N's eyes fluttered shut and Jesper moved his bloody hands to either side of her pale face, shaking her as gently as he could.

"Hey, hey, stay with me, love," Jesper said, not so gently, as he tried to keep her conscious.

Y/N blinked her eyes open and looked up at Jesper, the world spinning around her, the buildings around them looking even drunker than usual. "Hey."

"Hey, beautiful," Jesper replied, stroking her cheek with his thumb, both of them choosing to ignore the fact that Y/N's blood was all over Jesper's hands and was now on her face.

Kaz felt a pang of jealously rush through him. Jesper could comfort her and carry her to safety. Inej could hold her hand and hug her. Nina could heal her and touch her without feeling like she was about to pass out.

Kaz wanted to run to Y/N. He wanted to kneel down next to her and hold her hand. But he couldn't. He physically could not force himself to.

As he stared at her, at the woman he'd taken for granted for so long, he just saw her dead, lying on the street like Jordie had. The nightmare spiralled from there as he remembered the Reaper's Barge, the cold, bloated body of his brother. The hands. Drowning in a sea of rotten bodies.

No.

Y/N wasn't dead. She was still alive. She was still awake and wasn't dead.

A small voice inside him added the word yet to the end of his sentence but he refused to listen to it.

"Jesper," Kaz said, his voice rougher and croakier then usual. "We need to move her to the Slat."

Jesper recognised the pain and unfiltered emotion on Kaz's face. It wasn't normal to see his boss so openly show emotion but when Y/N was involved, Kaz was an unknown entity.

The man would never admit to himself that he had feelings for her. Kaz was in denial. He refused to acknowledge the emotions inside him. But he'd taken Y/N for granted. He just assumed she would always be on his left side, walking just behind him.

"Ready?"

Jesper's voice snapped Kaz back to the street and he looked at Y/N, her skin pale and sweaty, her hands shaking. Kaz nodded, gripping his cane tightly.

"Right, love, your knight in shining armour has arrived," Jesper said, a teasing tone to his words that didn't quite reach his eyes.

Y/N chuckled softly as Jesper moved to her side, his arms going under her legs and then around her back. Y/N let out a groan of pain and squeezed her eyes tightly shut as he lifted her up. She dropped her head onto his chest, feeling the warmth radiating from him, the soft material of his coat rubbing against her face.

Kaz's cane clicking against the cobbles was the sound Y/N focused on as Jesper carried her towards the Slat. She wanted to fall asleep, to just close her eyes and burrow into Jesper's jacket for warmth. But Kaz's cane kept clicking and Y/N focused on it, the sound alone reassuring her of his presence.

"Hey, don't doze off on me," Jesper said, glancing down at Y/N as her eyes shut.

"I"m not," Y/N said softly, her eyes opening sluggishly and looking up at Jesper as she re-wrapped her arms around his neck. "I'm not."

Jesper squeezed her leg as he noticed her eyes droop slightly, her head dropping back against his shoulder. "No sleeping on the job, Y/N, Kaz will have your head."

Y/N's laugh was weaker and Kaz felt a pang of pain in his chest as he looked over at her. She was dying. She couldn't be dying. But she was dying.

Kaz forced himself to reply, playing along in an attempt to keep Y/N awake. "You fell asleep on a job once, Jesper, and yet you're still here. Unfortunately."

Jesper let out a bark of laughter and Kaz caught Y/N smiling, albeit small. Good.

"We're nearly there, love," Jesper said quietly, spotting the towering, drunkenly slumped shack that was the Slat.

Y/N hummed a response but the blood loss was beginning to hit her. Her sight was speckled by black dots and her ears were filled with a high pitched ringing.

Jesper glanced down at her, noticing her silence ."Y/N, hey, stay with me, darling, we're almost there."

Y/N wanted to reply. She wanted to reassure Jesper, because she could hear the thinly disguised panic in his voice, that she was still with him but she was so tired and her eyes weren't letting her stay awake.

The urge to sleep won over her need to reassure Jesper and her eyes rolled backwards. Jesper felt Y/N's arms slip from around his neck, limply hanging to the sides, as she lost consciousness and felt panic grip his entire being.

Kaz slammed open the door to the Slat and the Dregs loitering around looked up, hands flying to weapons.

"Nina!" Kaz yelled, his voice doing a fairly good job at hiding his fear, his worry, the panic that Y/N was dying.

Nina rushed out the side room and met them halfway across the room, eyes running over Y/N, the blood seeping through Inej's scarf, the blood on Jesper's hands, on Y/N's hands.

"Quickly," she said, ushering Jesper into the room.

There was a table set in the middle of the room and dozens of candles had been lit to provide enough light in the dark room. A large, heavy oak chest of drawers was shoved up against the window and Inej was hovering against the far wall, her eyes locking onto Y/N's body as soon as Jesper carried her into the room.

"On the table, Jesper," Nina ordered, opening a drawer, numerous bottles clinking as she rummaged around.

Jesper gently set Y/N down on the table, carefully laying her down and moving her arms to rest on the wood. He took his jacket off and bundled it up, lifting Y/N's head up and setting the material underneath her head.

Kaz stood in the doorway, hands tightly wrapped around his cane, the metal beginning to cut through his gloves and into his hands. In any of building, in any other city in the world, he would've looked like an omen of death.

He forced himself to stare at Y/N as Jesper helped Nina unwrap Inej's scarf from around Y/N's side.

Kaz shuddered as his mind shoved Jordie to the front, the feeling of his brother's cold, bloated skin against his, drowning him. He was drowning in Jordie; in Y/N dying on the table in front of him.

Nina was muttering to herself as she worked, one hand around Y/N's wrist, the other holding a pile of gauze to her side. Kaz watched her intently and could see her counting Y/N's heartbeat as she tried to stop the bleeding.

Which is why, because Kaz was watching Nina with such intensity, that when Nina paused her muttering and looked down at Y/N, her eyes slowly widening, did Kaz feel his own heart shudder and almost stop.

Nina let go of Y/N's wrist, dropping her hand onto the table. She brought her hands together, her first two fingers overlapping each other, and then brought them down onto Y/N's chest.

It was as if Kaz could hear Y/N's heart slowing down and not speeding up. He watched as Nina repeated her movements, determination and panic and fear written on her face as her eyes welled up.

Kaz swallowed and felt the ocean overwhelming him again. He saw Y/N staring back at him, lifeless and dead just like Jordie. Her beautiful eyes staring emptily back at him, void of life. He'd failed her like he'd failed Jordie. The most important thing in his life was dead.

Inej was frantically praying, clutching her knife, Sankt Alina, tightly. Jesper was still for the first time since he'd carried Y/N in, his eyes red with tears as he stared at Y/N's limp, bloody body.

Kaz took one look at Nina and saw the dwindling hope in her eyes, the tears streaming down her face and turned around, walking out the room, his cane clacking loudly against the floor.

Nina sobbed and repeated her movements one more time, desperately trying to get Y/N's heart to start beating again. She'd saved Matthias in the middle of the ocean, during a hurricane, she could save Y/N.

Nina brought her hands down on to Y/N's chest once more with, perhaps, more force than needed. She kept them there and willed the organ inside her friend to not give up.

To keep going.

Second by second, Nina felt it slowly begin to beat again. Nina kept her hands on Y/N's chest, scared that if she moved even an inch it might stop beating again. Second by second, the colour began to slowly come back into Y/N's skin and Nina sighed, dropping her head in relief.

Inej let out a happy sob and closed her eyes, praying to her Saints once again and thanking them.

"Jesper, come here and wrap her wound, stop making that face, it's a bullet wound, you'll be fine," Nina snapped, glaring at Jesper when he balked at the thought, all thoughts of death and misery gone, their usual banter slowly returning.

Jesper walked around to stand next to Nina and took a clean wad of gauze and drenched it in alcohol. He pulled Y/N's bloody shirt up and gently pressed it to her side. His other hand reached up to Y/N's face and with a clean, damp cloth, he began wiping the dried blood off her skin.

"Oh, Saints, Kaz!" Inej exclaimed suddenly, making Jesper and Nina jump. She flew out the room like a breeze and dashed up the stairs to Kaz's office where he'd inevitably retreated.

Kaz was stood hunched in front of his mirror, his gloves off, his head hung. Inej walked in slowly, making sure to announce her presence by stepping on the creaky floorboard by the door.

"Don't," Kaz said, his voice croaking and Inej realised that he was crying. "Don't say it."

"Kaz," Inej said softly, slowly approaching him.

"No, Inej!" Kaz snapped, whirling around to stare at her. His eyes were red and his hair was a mess and his hands were shaking. "I took her for granted. I never," Kaz took a deep, shaky breath in, "I never told her or even showed her just how much..."

Even now, even when she was dead, he couldn't bring life to the words. They sat dead on his tongue, poisoning him. He hated his brother for making him this way. Hated Ketterdam for being the way it was. He even hated Y/N for being so fucking perfect that he had to fall in love with her. He was a fool so desperately in love that it scared him endlessly.

"Kaz," Inej repeated, slowly, gently, laying a hand on his arm.

The sleeves of his shirt were rolled up but Inej made sure to place her hand on the part that was still covered. Kaz flinched but didn't tell her to remove her hand or move back.

"Kaz," Inej said again. "Y/N isn't dead. She's alive. Nina brought her back."

Kaz turned his head and locked eyes with Inej. He didn't say anything but Inej understood. She nodded, reassuring him that she was being honest.

Perhaps, if Y/N hadn't been around, they would have fallen in love. Maybe it would be Inej he was crying over. Maybe it would have been Inej lying there, injured. Maybe Kaz would have torn the city apart to find the man who had injured her.

But he had Y/N. She was alive, three flights of stairs below, with Nina and Jesper at her side.

"I'll find him," Inej promised, dropping her hand from Kaz's arm and pulling her hood up.

"Leave some for me," Kaz said lowly, his eyes following Inej to the window. "I feel like ripping an eyeball or two out."

Kaz slowly limped down the stairs to Y/N's bedroom. He could hear numerous voices from inside and hesitated outside the door. Kaz Brekker, Bastard of the Barrel, heistated.

"Kaz, just come in already!" Nina yelled from within.

Kaz rolled his eyes and opened the door. "Stop spying on me, Zenik."

"It's difficult not to when your heartbeat is so loud," Nina replied, raising her eyebrows knowingly.

Y/N snorted and Kaz looked at her. She was sat on her bed with a blanket wrapped around her shoulders. Jesper sat next to her, his arm around her shoulders. Y/N was half leaning on Jesper and half on the wall and looked so alive.

Inej had found the man who'd shot her and, together, they'd ripped the man's eyes out, slit his throat and thrown his body onto the Reaper's Barge. It had helped quell the ghosts threatening to haunt him once again but they hadn't truly abated until Kaz had gotten to look at Y/N and see her talk.

Y/N gave him a smile and Kaz nodded back at her, trying to hide his relief at how alive she looked.

She was alive. She wasn't dead. She wasn't Jordie. She wasn't going anywhere. She was still here, with him, in Ketterdam. And he wasn't going to let her go.

"There's blood on your shoes, Kaz," Y/N said, gesturing to his black shoes with her head, her voice almost startling him.

Kaz looked down and eyed the single drop with distaste. So there was. A single drop. All that was left of the man who'd shot her.

Y/N laughed at the look on Kaz's face. "He looks like he just sucked a lemon," she said to Jesper, albeit loud enough for Kaz to hear too.

"No, that's his normal face," Jesper replied, smirking as he winked at Kaz.

Y/N laughed, throwing her head back. Her hair fell over her shoulder and her eyes sparkled in the dim, orange light of her room. Her laugh was like music to him.

And Kaz Brekker realised with a sudden, painful thud that he was completely and utterly besotted with her.

[dragon-kazansky]

Familiar stranger | Helmut Zemo

Requested by @realremyd

Female Reader!

The moment is eyes had landed on you, so many things happened at once. He zoned out Sam and Bucky, he took a step away from you, his heart seemed to clench in his chest, and all he could think was 'it can't be.'

Right there in front of him was the spitting image of his wife. Well, maybe not exactly, but you did hold such a resemblance to her. It was like she was right there with him again.

You were looking at him. The others too, but it was you he found hard to look away from.

"Who are you?" He asks, needing to know if his mind was playing tricks on him.

"Y/N."

A sigh of relief escaped him. Was he relieved though?

He was obviously making you uncomfortable with the way he was looking at you, so he turned his head away. Yet, your presence felt loud. He would never be able to look at you without seeing her.

It got worse.

In Madripoor you were required to wear a disguise. You were the last to come out in the clothes he had got for you, and once again he was struck by the sight of his wife.

Often they would both dress up and go out for the evening. The outfit he had chosen, though he wasn't sure if this was intentional or not, really made you resemble her all the more.

He couldn't take it.

Zemo avoided all eye contact with you. He focused his attention on the boys, finding it easier that way. Even when he stated your role in this he wouldn't look directly at you.

You wondered if you had done something to offend him, which kind of hurt. You always did your best to get on with anyone you worked with, but obviously that wasn't happening here.

Perhaps it was best to stay out of his way.

Things took a turn: a bounty was placed on your heads because of the death of Selby, all of Madripoor was coming for you, and Sharon popped out of nowhere to rescue you.

Back at her place, you changed into something less flashy. You wanted to tone down the outfit a bit and wear something a little more you.

Zemo couldn't help thinking that you looked much better this way. Though he still saw his wife's face, you looked more like you. You suited you.

Down in the club it was easy to avoid you. Zemo blended into the crowd... kind of, and you stuck to the other side, enjoying your own time here.

You left before all of them.

When the boys left the club and went back upstairs, they found you sleeping on the sofa. You had kicked off your shoes and, obviously, made yourself comfortable.

He couldn't look away.

Zemo sat down near by and looked at you. This was a good chance to look at you without making you uncomfortable.

"How can you look so much like her, yet be so different too?" He whispered the question.

Not really realising what he was doing, he tucks some hair away from your face. You can't possibly be all that comfortable or warm here. Not wanting to overstep any boundaries by carrying you to your room, he gently lifts your head enough to put a cushion under it. He then grabs his coat and drapes it over you gently.

He leaves you to sleep in peace.

You wake up rather slowly. You had been extremely tired when you got back last night. You had enough fun in the club and excused yourself, passing Bucky on the way out.

You sit up. The coat falls from your shoulders and into your lap.

Zemo's coat.

You blink away any tiredness to examine it, running your fingers across the fur. It was soft.

Why did you have his coat?

It dawned on you that he must have out it there himself. No one else would touch it otherwise.

It smells like him.

You look up when you hear someone approaching. It's the man himself. He stops like a deer in headlights when your eyes meet his. Before he can turn around and leave, yoy call out to him.

"Wait!"

He stays standing, looking at you curiously. It still hurts to look at you, but your voice is so much different, it makes him remember who he is looking at.

"Thank you."

He looks at the way you're holding his coat. The way your have a hand resting over the fur collar, clearly finding the feel of it satisfying.

For some reason that pleased him.

"You're welcome."

You smile. It's not her smile. It's your smile. He likes it.

You stand up and hold his coat carefully, taking the utmost care in handling it. You held it out to him when you stopped a little closer to him.

He takes it. His eyes never leave you. This is the longest he has looked at you at any one moment.

You're still smiling.

"I have to ask," you begin, "have I done something to offend you?"

His lips part ever so slightly as be tilts his head a tiny bit.

"Offend me?"

"Yes. This is the most you've looked at me since we met. You don't really talk to me and you seem to avoid me when possible." You gaze down at the floor.

He can hear the disappointment in your voice. He can see the way your hands fidget in front if you.

It seemed to really bother you that he was avoiding you.

"It's nothing you have done."

You look at him with concern.

"Something I've said?" Not that you've spoken to him much.

"No."

"Then, please, tell me how I can fix whatever this is. I would quite like for us to get along while we work together," you were pretty much pleading with him.

He clutches his coat, but you don't seem to notice.

"You remind me of my wife."

The way your head shoots up to look at him tells him he caught your attention. There was no going back now.

"You look so much like her and I can't take it," he whispers. "It is not your fault at all, but I cannot look at the face of someone I loved and failed greatly."

You're at a loss for words.

"But I know you're not her. The way you speak, the way you dress, the way you look when you're sleeping soundly... that's all you."

You stand there quietly.

"If you'll excuse me." He turns on his heel and leaves the room.

Helmut doesn't speak to you at all at the dock. He ignores you further on the plane to Latvia. You find yourself looking at him a lot more, but he doesn't even glance your way.

When you arrive at the safe-house, you immediately seek out a bedroom and try to stay out of everyone's way.

Sam comes to look for you. He can see something has happened and he's concerned it's a problem.

"Y/N? Open up."

You open the door to him.

"What happened?"

"What do you mean?" You ask, trying to sound as casual as possible.

"Between you and Zemo. You're ignoring each other more than usual. If this is going to be a problem, I think we should at least talk about it."

"I think it's best I tap out now. You still need Zemo, right?" You ask, avoiding his eyes.

"Possibly, but not for much longer. Why? What's happened?"

"I think I'm making it difficult for him. He told me, back in Madripoor, that I look a lot like his wife and I think it's hard for him to look at me. I don't want to be the reason the job fails."

Sam wrapped an arm around you and pulled you into his side.

"That's not going to happen. If you want to stay here, I'm sure that's fine, but just know we could really use your help."

"I think I'll stay here. You can call me if you need me."

"Alright, we're not going anywhere just yet, so you'll have to deal with Zemo being around a little longer."

"I know."

Sam gave you a slight squeeze and left you in peace. Zemo was waiting downstairs when he returned. The Baron was kind of disappointed to find that Sam was alone.

You were avoiding him too. He supposed he deserved that.

"How is she?"

"Fine. She'll probably stay in her room for a while. She's decided to stay back for now, so we'll be dealing with the Flag Smahsers without her," Sam explained.

Zemo didn't mean for that to happen.

There was another knock at your door. You called for them to enter, expecting it to be Bucky coming to see you, but it wasn't.

"Oh, Zemo."

He closed the door behind him and walked over to you, but still maintained a comfortable distance between you.

"You're not coming with us?"

"Thought it would be better if I didn't tag along any more. They need you more than me right now," you speak softly, playing with the corner of your pillow next to you.

You hear Zemo sigh gently. The mattress sinks down next to you as he sits down.

"They need you too."

You shrug.

"I didn't mean for you drop out of the mission. I shouldn't have said anything."

"No. I'm glad you did. I feel better knowing the reason why you can't look at me."

"Who's not looking now?"

You look up. His dark gaze is on you. He had been looking at you from the moment he entered the room.

He smiles.

"Won't it be difficult working with me if I'm there? I'm worried I'll jeopardise the whole thing."

He reaches out and he takes your hand.

"No. I did some thinking on the plane. I've spent too much time living in my past already, I won't let you back out of the plan because of my foolishness. I had no idea it would bother you so much that I was avoiding you." He gives your hand a little squeeze.

"I'm surprised too, you know. It kind of bothered me that you wouldn't even talk to me unless absolutely necessary."

"Apologies. I am a fool."

"No, you're not," you chuckle softly.

The smile he gives you sets the butterflies off in your stomach.

"Who is it you see now?" You ask, whispering.

"You. Just you."

You bite your lip shyly and shuffle a little closer.

"Then, I changed my mind. You'll have to put up with me when we go get the bad guys."

Zemo laughs.

"Poor me."

You rest your head against his shoudler. You don't know what it is about him, but there was something there that made you want to know him. If he would let you, you wanted to get closer to him.

Even if his freedom was short lived.

@ajeff855 @moonstuffsteve @sky-writes-stuff @lieutenantn @lostghostgirl94 @friday18eo @yaskna

[ddwcaph-game]

Story World Crush Option #2: Chamyrrha

Here's the second character introduction for the crush option you'll meet in JM's story world!

Like Cordelia's introduction, Cham's character profile has mild spoilers, but nothing important will be revealed. There won't be any sneak peeks for JM's story world in the near future because it's heavy spoiler territory, but there'll be quite a few hints below anyway (you already know it's about mythology, right?).

Again, I'll answer asks about Cordelia and Cham as long as they're not too spoilery, but I will put them under "Keep Reading" until they're introduced in the story (or answer in a separate post if the question itself contains spoilers).

CHAMYRRHA Level 6000 Angel

PRONOUNS: Any Pronouns (Usually She/Her) STORY WORLD OF ORIGIN: JM's Story World SPECIES: Angel MBTI TYPE: ESFP ENNEAGRAM TYPE: 7w8 PRIMARY LOVE LANGUAGE: Quality Time IDEAL FRIEND: Warm, Precocious, Silly

The silliest and most talkative angel you'll ever meet. Chamyrrha may be an angel, but she's more of a mischievous imp when it comes to her personality. Her powers of divine intervention were taken from her long ago for her tendency to disobey rules, as well as granting wishes only meant as a joke.

Since then, she has been wandering the spiritual realms looking for lost souls to comfort and guide into the afterlife. While mostly a thankless job, she has enjoyed doing so for millennia, and she still gets genuinely excited whenever she meets a new person, even if she never meets them again. That's better than being a guardian angel and not being able to do anything fun, anyway.

She can no longer perform miracles, but she has kept most of her abilities as an angel, such as selective invisibility, omnilingualism, and being able to know people's thoughts. In fact, she often forgets that other people can't do that, so she tends to ramble and get distracted talking to a person's thoughts before they even have a chance to speak. She's also of the idea that anything sounds good if you sing it loud enough.

Cham most often presents herself as a young, chubby child wearing a sky blue robe, as she has found out that it's what most people are comfortable with, but they have no problem switching his appearance from person to person as angels don't really have gender. Just don't call her a cherub—cherubim have four faces and multiple wings—and frankly, she gets tired of explaining it all the time. A part of her right wing has been bitten off by a lost Ci Annwn, which has now become her (equally distractable) travel companion.

Although she can be scatterbrained at times, Cham can focus if she really wants to, and she has an impressive memory. Over time, she has grown to be fascinated with magic, weird bugs and critters, and especially machines and clockwork. Through her experiences talking with the lost souls she meets, she has gathered enough knowledge to build gizmos, and even a small biplane, as she has difficulty flying long distances with her broken wing. Besides, if Charon has a boat, why can't she have a biplane?

As a human, Cham appears as a tall and chubby girl with blue eyes, fair skin, and wavy medium-long golden brown hair, although… you might be able to slightly influence her appearance later.

Cham has no preference when it comes to crushes, but that's mostly because she's totally oblivious to it. She knows what it is, he knows why it is, but they don't know how it is. What is this "love" everyone keeps talking about, anyway? How is it the best thing in the world if people fight over it?

***

Anyway, I hope you're all excited to meet Cham as well!

Cham is based on a character from one of my writer friends I used to roleplay with, so she has quite a bit of non-canon history with Wayne and Roselyna. She's very fun to write, and I honestly hate how late in the story they appear.

[yunho-es]

Member/s: Wooyoung (ATEEZ)

Genre: soft

Warnings: swear words

Words: 2043

Before reading, I want you to know that I don't use any names or Y/n's because I know many people don't really insert their names, they read it as Yin 😂 I also write in first person pov because I think it's easier to read and imagine yourself in that situation

Beads of sweat slowly rolled down my forehead as I pulled out a piece of paper from my sleeve. I knew that the exam would be hard, but I wasn't expecting it to be this detailed. Thank God my friend made me write it all on a small piece of paper. At least I will get a positive grade. Of course he made me do it, he passed the school with those. Thankfully, he didn't go to medicine school. If I ever ended up on his surgery table, I would die.

Three more minutes until the end and one more question unanswered. The teacher noticed me shifting in my seat, but she knew I always get good grades. She finally stopped looking at me and gave her attention to a group of boys trying to switch their papers. I glanced one more time at the piece of paper and put it back in my sleeve. Just as I finished the answer, the bell rang. Half of the class groaned, probably because they didn't manage to finish in time. I took my backpack and left the paper with my name on the main table.

"Good job! Honestly, your exams are always my favorite to grade. I'm really happy to have a student like you."

"Thank you, Mrs Johnson. See you on Monday."

Once I got outside I noticed the sky already getting dark. It was just 5 pm and winter was already doing it's job; the roads were wet and slippery from mixed rain and snow and it must've been under 0 Celsius. Usually I walk home because it's not far away, but my school uniform, rain and cold weather didn't go well together. I was just about to call my roommate when I felt car lights on me, followed by a familiar voice.

"I think quicker than you do." Wooyoung smiled as he opened the door. "Get in please I don't want to spend the next week taking care of an annoyingly picky roommate. I have plans to get drunk and do something stupid."

"You do stupid things anyway without drinking. So save the money and the time. And oh, save me from embarrassment." I get in the car sticking my tongue out at him. "Did you cook anything? I'm starving."

"No, of course. I slept the whole day." I look at him, hoping to see a smile on his face that would give me a sign that he's joking. "Don't look at me like that, I was tired from the night shift. I'll take you to McDonald's." he drove out of the school parking.

"I don't want trash, Wooyoung. I want food." I groaned. He told me that he would try cooking something, but it's been a week and he didn't do anything. "Please buy some pasta and tomato sauce I'll make something."

"Honestly, I really don't feel like waiting. And McDonald's is f**king awesome!" his hand reached out to turn on the radio. "How can you not love the little purple box full of 12 golden beauties?"

It did sound good, but we haven't eaten any "real" food for a month and my stomach started to ache. Living with Wooyoung has its bad and good sides, the bad sides mainly being his laziness and stubbornness. Speaking of stubbornness, of course he took the left turn towards McDonald's.

"What do you want?"

"What a polite way to ask me. You've loosened up I see." I frown at him. He rolls his eyes dramatically and turns towards me with his whole body.

"Your Highness, what do you wish to consume today?"

"That's just too much."

"What the h*ll do you want? I'm taking 3 burgers and fries and you aren't touching them." the brown haired boy points his finger towards my face. I squint my eyes at him, then bite his finger. "Crazy woman."

"Hello, may I take your order?"

"Hello, yes. I'd like a..."

***

"Is this place good enough for the Queen?" Wooyoung spoke with his mouth full of fries and ketchup. We sat on the roof of his car on a parking lot near a river. The place is good enough for the Queen.

"Eat before you speak, what's wrong with you?" I laugh at him, seeing that he spilled the ketchup on his t-shirt. "No girl will want you like this."

"To be honest I'm not interested right now." he replied immediately.

I'd lie if I said that my heart didn't sink a bit. Whoever said that boys and girls can't be friends was right. One side always catches feelings, big or small. In my case, I believe it's a small crush. He's the only boy I hang out with, so that must be why.

"Why?" I allow myself to ask.

"I had a little crush on a girl but I had to give it up." he kept stuffing his mouth with food, trying to avoid the conversation.

"And...?" I look at him expecting more. But he keeps his mouth shut and folds the paper of the burgers in his hands.

"Are you thirsty?" Wooyoung offers a can of soda, still looking at his fingers.

"Yes, thank you." he opens the can for me, first taking a sip himself, then giving the green beverage to me. I drink the whole can almost immediately.

"You could've said earlier that you were thirsty, I had water in the car." his tone visibly changed. He sounded more serious now, as if he just wanted to go home and lock himself in the room. "Want another one?" he reaches for another can.

"I think I have one more sip here." I throw my head back trying to drink every single drop of the refreshing juice. I slowly started to lean back, forgetting that I'm not in the chair but on the roof of the car. "Sh*t!" I curse as I almost fall on the rocky floor.

"Hey!" Wooyoung quickly reacts and grabs my hands, pulling me towards him. All the empty cans rolled down on the floor, making loud noises. "You good?" he asks, eyes on my face.

His hands felt so warm around mine. I really didn't want to let go. "I'm good." I pull away, trying to get down to collect the cans.

"Leave the d*mn cans there. You almost fell down. Do you see those rocks down there? What if you hit your head? What would I do?"

"I'd pay to get your car cleaned from my blood, Wooyoung." I laugh, but when I notice that his face didn't change, my smile drops. "What's wrong? Why isn't it funny when I say something like this?"

"Behind all these jokes you have to understand that you are very important to me and I have a soft spot for you. If anything happened to you my life would stop. I'm a serious man behind all my sarcastic jokes. Please watch yourself, because I can't do it all the time. It takes a second to turn a peaceful situation into a disaster."

I stare at him with my mouth a little open. I'm surprised at his words, I never heard him talk like this. I manage to say a sorry, turning my head away from him.

After a few seconds of silence, which seemed like hours, he got down and picked up all the cans, then offered me his hand. "Be careful." I put my hand in his, slowly getting down on the floor. "What dumbass even puts these rocks on the parking lot?" he picks up a few of them and pushes them away, leaving the bigger and heavier ones where they were.

"I think because they don't want someone else to have the spot." I watch as he tries to move a few more rocks. "Leave it, you're gonna hurt yourself. Let's just go back home, please?"

"Alright." he leaves the rocks and opens the door for me. Then he proceeds to enter the car himself. "But just for the record, I could've moved those rocks." his lips curved in a small smile. He can't help himself.

***

It suddenly became quiet in the house. Wooyoung layed on the sofa, watching the TV, and I sat on the floor behind the coffee table with my back leaning on the sofa.

"I'm a bit disappointed that we didn't take any photos." I pouted, scrolling down my Instagram feed. He didn't respond. I kept quiet for a few more minutes, then broke the silence again. "Do you think you could pick me up tomorrow from school again?" again, no answer.

I turn around towards him and see that his eyes are closed. He fell asleep while watching the TV. I took a blanket from my room and layed next to him under it. It's not my first time napping with him, but most of the time he refuses. He says that he is a kicker in his sleep and that he doesn't want to hurt me.

The sofa in our living room is quite small so I have to basically lay on Wooyoung. Just as I close my eyes, I feel his hand around my waist, bringing me even closer to him. Now my head was on his chest and I was surrounded by his scent and warmth. This must be what heaven feels like. Usually when we sleep like this together, it takes us a few hours to fall asleep. Mainly because he can't stop making jokes and I can't stop laughing. But this is different. It's calm. It's beautiful.

I couldn't tell if he was asleep or just pretending. He held me close and rubbed my back slowly. "Wooyoung?" I tried calling.

"Hm?" he responds sleepily.

"Are you okay?" I look up at him. His eye are still closed, but his fingers are still drawing tiny patterns on my waist and back.

"Mhm." again, I receive a short answer. When I try to move and give him some space so he can sleep peacefully, he opens his eyes to look at me. "Please don't move. I want to sleep like this." one of his hands moved my hair from both of our faces. "Please?" he asked, almost whispering.

I have never witnessed this side of Wooyoung. His voice was different, his movements were different, his eyes were different. This is the Wooyoung I wanted for myself, but couldn't have him. It took me a few longer seconds to realise that we are staring at each other, doing nothing but breathing quietly. Once his hot breath fell on my lips I couldn't help but close my eyes and sigh. Right now, I hoped for one thing to happen.

"Why can't I have you like this every day?" his soft voice whispered. I try to speak, but as soon as I move my lips, I feel something soft brushing against them. My breath stops and I force myself to open my eyes. He's looking down at my lips as if thinking if the next step is smart to do. I allow myself a moment of bravery and I put my hands on his chest, getting closer to him. "F**k it." he mutters, finally putting his hands on my cheeks and pressing his lips against mine.

His lips must've been the softest thing to exist on this planet. I tried to move, but my body was frozen. I couldn't do anything, just lay and enjoy the softness and the warmth of his lips. He pulled away for a second, trying to say something, but when he didn't succeed, he went back to the older position. Then, again, he pulls away.

"You are so sweet. You taste like I always imagined." the red cheeked boy whispers, brushing the tip of his nose against mine.

"More, please." I manage to say. My lips and throat are dry, my mind is going crazy, and my stomach is witnessing fireworks. Wooyoung smiles, still not letting go of my cheeks. "Please." I get impatient.

He leans in again, this time kissing me with more passion. It stopped being sweet and soft, now only one word existed in my mind: more. And he happily listened.

[elytrafemme]

hi mare! hope you're doin well! i genuinely had no idea that today was tuesday, i literally woke up this morning and realized i didn't know what day it was (though i decided to not try and figure it out). that being said, it was quite nice to find out that it was a cough syrup tuesday.

okay first off, title for this chapter? fucking immaculate, i saw it and got so excited you have no idea. i just really like the song, it's on my cranboo playlist

starting off the chapter with dream and my thoughts reading that short bit of text are just "fuck you fuck you i hope you die you piece of shit bastard" and honestly i feel like that means you've absolutely done a great job with making cs!dream accurately terrible and bad! /pos im looking forward to seeing where this all goes (but i also want him to be killed :D )

the conversation about religion was so so interesting. growing up agnostic its always fascinating to me how different writers have their characters talk about religion and their beliefs, especially if they have contrasting perspectives and ideas. its something i dont think i'll ever get tired of hearing about, and the respective takes on religion for their characters i think are really fitting.

yooooooo cs!bench playing wii sports finally????? holy shit im so excited for that

also i love the way you write tommy its just so accurate and i smile every time he comes up cause like. that's one of my boys <3 hes fucked up and annoying and way too loud but he's also sort of endearing and cares so much for people. i love him dearly

"Ranboo wonders, idly, if Tubbo will ever become the sky to him, someday."

this line. irl i literally covered my mouth with my hand, fully turned off my phone screen, and laid down on my bed with my face in my hands. like genuinely had to take a moment to process. anyway i'm writing this as i read the fic and as of right now it's my favorite line and i know that there are so many other good ones but just for the sheer effect this had on my current emotional state (/pos dw) i'm calling it my favorite

"His eyes catch the moon, and, for the strangest reason, he feels a twinge of sadness in him. There's something about the moon when it's in crescent- waning today, he believes- that reminds him of memories he can't capture. A sense of absent longing, some kind of attachment to the crescent moon. He wishes he could remember more. He wishes the pieces he has of his childhood weren't fickle, and weren't simple things like playing piano, or stargazing, or having blackberries."

okay so right after that line i just said was my favorite you went ahead and wrote a whole paragraph that i deeply resonate with. what the fuck dude i literally cannot keep reading these chapters and going "oh this is my favorite line/scene!" and then proceed to copy and paste close to the entirety of the goddamn chapter into my little notes here. i simply cannot. but honestly i think its just going to keep happening anyway.

"Is it worth sacrificing his own memory to be loved?"

FUCKKK ohmt god ohh my god jsgfsddfdds

their little stargazing call :(( i care about them so much

manifesting more stargazing content <- this wont work but one can dream

"But Tubbo still listens. He may not understand, but he listens.

And Ranboo would like to believe that's enough."

!!!!!!!!!!!! FNFGFDFHDFGDGFGGFJK

i think there's something about reading this fic with each chapter update that makes me exhibit mentally ill behavior but i genuinely think that that just means its a really great fic

i really loved this chapter, i think its probably my favorite so far. i think i say that often but i honestly cant remember. i just really enjoy your characterization of ranboo in this. i feel like the more i learn about him the more i learn about myself if that makes sense? the way that you talk about how he feels about the world and his existence in it is something that i can never put words to for myself, but i often discover that i'm able to find those words after a little bit of thinking when i read his (or even sometimes tubbo's) perspective. its a funny thing, figuring out how to talk about your own thoughts through other people's interpretations of fictional characters. it all just seems kinda silly, y'know? i think it's just that it can be easier seeing someone else come up with the words for the things you're trying to describe for yourself sometimes. written media has always been my favorite for that reason.

the imagery was beautiful too, i really enjoyed it. i always enjoy everything about your writing honestly, but i know you're fully aware of that. you're just very good at what you do, you know?

anyway i'm looking forward to the next chapter! i know you said that the release of this chapter means we're really gearing up for the main plot and everything now and that's super exciting!

take care of yourself, and i hope you have a good day/night whenever you get around to reading this <3

HI LIV :]

it's SUCH a good song!!! reminds me of nina cos apologies from the intercom but yeah! i had it on loop during the last scene of the chapter, and i had already planned to use it for a later chapter but decided i should swap it to be this chapter. whether this was a good decision or not is pending but regardless its SUCH a good song :D

HELP CS!DREAM SUCKS SO BAD FR...

YEAH! people seemed to really like the discussion of religion in the chapter and it's been really interesting to hear what people have said about it! i'm a religious person myself (though me and religion have a complicated history) but i absolutely love writing about people's perspective on religion, i like seeing how everyone's worldviews meet and collide and everything

YES I'M SO EXCITED... Wii Sports Resort my fucking ADORED

god i love writing cs!tommy so much. SO much. he's just such a genuinely good guy and he's so earnest and he just wants to be okay. i love him so bad i'm so glad people like him

i love seeing what lines are your favorites :D there's going to be a lot more of this celestial imagery, i'm obsessed with it and i'm so glad that you like it :] your compliments make me grin lots

i can't remember if i told u this or not but cmon liv look at me. consider everything u know about me. i'm not ending this fic without at least two more stargazing scenes PROMISE.

"i think there's something about reading this fic with each chapter update that makes me exhibit mentally ill behavior" this is one of the funniest fucking things anyone has ever said about cough syrup thank you for this

augh liv you're the sweetest thank you so much, i'm glad you can see yourself in cs!ranboo :] he's such a nice character to write because there's so much about himself he's trying to piece together and discover and that makes such a messy process (a very messy process jesus christ writing it is a whole hell of a ride) but what i hope to be a very realistic one? he's just. i care about him a lot and it means a lot that people like him, he's just my guy :] i'm so so happy you liked the chapter liv, hope you have a wonderful morning whenever you wake up and see this (ik its pretty early for u rn)

[quinn-tessence]

Nocturne for a Clown

Part 3

Summary: you're tormented by the realization Arthur is the killer clown on the news, yet no bone in your body feels any different for him. Not even Casanova's advances could sway your from wanting to hold Arthur in your arms and alleviate his sorrow. He's had a bad day, and retreats on your couch, broken and confused.

Length: 5k words

Warnings: mentions of murder, lack of remorse, guilt and grief, seeking comfort where he'd never had it from. Smut with dear Arthur that could cause a rush of tremors, be warned. 🤭❤

----------------

You sat and watched. Then watched and watched some more. There were no words, no voice, no sound coming through your gaping mouth as the skin on your lips almost started to crack. It made sense. The blood, the bruise, the liberating sex, the wretched guilt. Oh God, what has he done?, you repeated in his voice over and over, that impossible puzzle putting itself together before you as you hid your gouging eyes underneath heavy, sweaty palms in a much too similar reflex to his own.

What has he done? He'd been beaten down surely, given his frail nature you could see how he'd be fluent in being at the receiving end, but as grievous as the thought was, it made it no less valid. This was bad, he’d land straight into Arkham if you picked up that phone to call the authorities, the way a considerate citizen would, as if Gotham deserved any at all. But you weren't one of them, were you? Never had you really fit in, yet you tried for the sake of appearances, it had become so burdening of late, only the thought of Arthur could provide the comfort you'd been seeking.

The news reports kept blaring, yet all your compassion overflowed for the clown, had you been able to see things objectively you'd still think he was hero. Three fewer assholes in Gotham, only a million more to go, you heard an inner voice say, even if you knew that was enough reason to throw you into the depths of Arkham Asylum. You'd sadly known that place from family, and you never wanted to set foot in that Tartarus again, but perhaps the apple didn't fall far from the tree. You couldn't stomach the thought of Arthur sitting opposite the glass wall from you, so dozed up on sedatives he'd hardly even recognize you. No, no, no. You wouldn't let that happen, and yet he'd need his own time and space to process.

You resisted the urge to bang on his door and ask for a full account, it felt as if you were a passenger on a derailing, speeding train. Regardless of how breathtaking the turquoise water under the rails, your gut wrenched at the thought of plunging into it head first. You were a decent swimmer, but you knew you’d be incapable of fighting those waters from swallowing you whole. You'd just given yourself to him, entirely and shamelessly, and regret was nowhere in sight. Had you been the forth prey of his killing spree, he would have killed you already. Yet he did the exact opposite, in distress and quivering like a leaf, but it was your door he opened after his rupture. He trusted you to keep this secret for him. And you welcomed the trust.

Within a few days you noticed you'd returned to your bad habit of unconscious nails biting. As if the deafening tumult between your temples wasn't enough, you also had to self flagellate as you desperately waited in silence.

You were busy enough at work, and the newest addition to your team had become daring enough to invade your private space little by little. Tall. Lean. Broad shouldered. Curly caramel hair and eyes of obsidian, winking at you shamelessly each time he passed by you. Patrick was a force in his field, yet he rolled his eyes and tongued his cheek whenever you'd call on him for a task, as if wanting to taunt you. Quite quirky and unprofessional, but restrictive enough to question yourself if you were merely projecting. Not once had he failed to deliver, on the contrary, yet that sly attitude never left him. Hm. The distraction was welcome, but it was nothing more. You'd catch yourself staring through him, picturing sparkling emeralds and cocoa, having to snap yourself back to reality before he'd think it was him you were aching for just like all your infatuated colleagues.

He must have checked with your giggly girlfriends before casually slipping in an invitation to your favorite bar after hours, casual drinks with a few colleagues, of course. Perhaps you should have politely declined, but you needed the respite from the heart wrenching torment, even if just for a few hours.

As empty as the venue was, he insisted on strolling in your visual field, intriguingly charming, maybe a bit too charismatic. It was time to maintain a level of dignity with your colleagues and remove yourself before getting into a state where you'd find yourself in Arthur's apartment, this time fully conscious. Yet Patrick gallantly offered to drive you over, posing a certain concern for your safety alone in the streets with a murdering clown on the loose. HA! You giggled at the joke being on him, silently talking to yourself. No thank you, you rascal, protection from that clown is the last thing I need. He insisted on paying for the taxi at least, and you’d had two drinks and wanted to be home already.

The thunderstorm washed the streets rapidly as you entered your building. You loved ravenous thunderstorms, especially as they traversed the sky over your cozy apartment bathed in lily scent. You took comfort in the hot shower and the chilly air in the room, lightning bolts clearing up the sky for a flash of a second as you wrapped yourself in the bathrobe, ready for Murray's dry humor.

Oh God! Your heart leapt to your throat as a soaked silhouette bathed your floors in cocoa flavor. At last.

‘Arthur! You scared me!’ he lay motionless, your words passing through him as if he wasn't even there. ‘Is everything ok?’

His damp fingers absently traced a faint line over the glass of your coffee table, his body slouched and stiff, the edges of his hair dripping on the couch.

‘I had a bad day.’

The words had come from a deep dark pit inside his chest, a wretched misery draped across his face as you kneeled next to him, cupping his cheeks. You'd ached to see his sparkling jades, yet you'd met them covered in a thick coat of tears, on the edge of dropping.

‘Arthur, what happened, sweetheart? Talk to me, please' He was so tired and withered, not even the wicked cackle would surface in this state.

‘I had a bad day…’

‘You said that, sweetheart, tell me what happened. Are you hurt?’

‘Kitten. I've done something… I…’ for seconds he tried to articulate, but the cackle fought its way up his throat.

‘Arthur shhhh. I know it was you. You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to, I won't force you… I won’t judge you for it, I promise. Just sit with me for a second’ his head already leaning on your chest, your palm caressing his piercing bones, even through sets of clothes. He sat sedated, limbs heavy, flesh trembling, voice cackling in wrenching anguish for what felt like minutes on end.

‘You do?’ he asked between ruptures as if to steer his initial subject into whatever you'd conveniently brought up.

‘I do. I knew it the moment I heard the news after you stormed out. I saw the blood and the bruise on your face. You won't find any judgement here, I promise. I know you needed time to process, but you’re here now. Shhh' you almost cradled him in your arms, the most powerful instinct to protect him even from himself overbearing. He was all bone and sinew, like a hungry lone wolf, but there now was a sinister vibe to him.

‘Good. I'm glad you know. I lost my job that day, and then they attacked me in the subway, beating me to a pulp. Hm. Now you'll know that killing them hasn't bothered me at all. How's that for casual conversation?’

An unnerving tremor slid down your spine at the tone of his voice. You'd known him for a while, yet this resentful sneer was far from something you'd expect from timorous Arthur. Dreadful it's what it was, spine-tingling, intriguing, you were utterly mad to clasp this deranged man to your bosom when another prince charming just waited for one damn look from you. Who cared, you thought, Gotham’s gonna claim all of us sooner or later.

‘All I want is for you to be safe, Arthur. I won't tell anyone, but you need to be careful, sweetheart, you can't be saying things like those to anyone, please'

‘I have no one to tell, Y/N. And you’re not just anyone. You know. I’m still here, although you could have thrown me in police custody for the past few days.’ The cackles had given him a short respite, even if still lingering on the edge of bursting. He wheezed heavily before speaking. ‘My whole life I didn't even know if I really existed. And today, I feel… hollow…’

You'd asked and asked again as you touched his face and held it close to yours, his forehead as cold as the thunderstorm outside this comforting protective bubble.

‘My mother had a heart attack. She's in the hospital. Hah. My mother…’ a late instinct turned your skin to prickles hearing him speak from a different octave, a thick air of mustering resentment filling the room. ‘I had a few days to myself and I decided to deliver a letter to Thomas Wayne from her, seeing how he never bothered to write back. I'd told you she worked for him 30 years ago, and I read it although I shouldn’t have. I'd never known my father, but the letter said it was him. I confronted my mother and she told me everything about the two of them. But… instead of some warmth or a bit of decency, he told me my mother was insane and that I had been adopted. That and a punch to the face is what I got. Hm. Who am I, then? You tell me'

Your own eyes on the brink of overflowing, your soul coiled. You couldn't do much, but he needed comfort. Where would you even start, though? His tone of voice, the grief weighing him down, the droplets off his wet hair disintegrating whatever pieces were left of him, a question mark in stead of whomever he thought he'd been his whole life. Yet he didn't expect comfort. Such a foreign concept to him, as if reserved only to an elite he was not part of and would not dare intrude upon. You could easily hear how he'd just laugh it out into his pillow at night, his cries stifled, lacking a corner of privacy and personal intimacy where he could really build up that forced smile he'd put on every next day. You’d go utterly mad if you were in his shoes, no comfort and no expectation of it. So used to being overlooked, deep down he knew he was alone, and that filled him with fear and hopelessness. So you shushed and nuzzled him to your chest, hoping the warmth of your body would be soothing enough for the chaos that he was.

‘I don't know who I am, kitten. So I went down to Arkham and stole my mother's file just to find that he'd been right. The… horrors… she subjected me to as a child had gotten me locked up in Arkham years ago, but now I think I was just trying to hide from her, from this rotten city, from this world. I felt safe in that white room, ironically. When they released me, the heavy medication was supposed to make me feel better, instead it suffocated even my most basic impulses.’

Laughter ripped at his throat and pulled his face into a grimace, your palms clasping him so tightly you were afraid you might smother him. How much pain and grief could a man take, his poor soul must have been bound to an eternal rock, forever pecked by hungry vultures.

‘How can you even welcome me into your home if I don't even know that much? I’m so sorry I dragged you into this. I should go, no need to burden you with any of this' he meant every word, as he kissed your hands with teary lips and dragged himself half upright.

‘Don't go' you close to begged. ‘Please stay.’

The grooves in his forehead you loved, just as the distinctive scar on his upper lip and the deep dark eye bags crowning his jades, his state of mind added another couple decades to his age. As you took him in through your pores, you remembered the shy clown peering through the shelves, and how the makeup would do the exact opposite of its intended purpose. Somehow he'd been unaware of how the makeup brightened his eyes to a clarity and sharpness you could cut yourself into. It was endearing how he'd stared at you when you'd first seen him wearing the costume, thinking he could hide under that mask when really it only brought him to life, his facial expressivity more riveting than ever. Yet he was here with you, more Carnival than Arthur even without the paint, as broken as a mirror in infinite shards.

‘Will you still have me here after this?’

‘I would. Please. I'm glad you came here after all this instead of going back home.’

The thought he'd ever been intimate with a woman before you had dissipated in an endless pool of murky turquoise, the genuine surprise in his eyes cutting you to your bone. There was no question, you knew.

‘Thank you, kitten. I'll stay, if you want me here'. There was no hiding anymore, you'd made it sparkling clear by being an accessory after the fact.

‘I do, Arthur, so much. I wanted you here… since you held that elevator for me, yet somehow we always missed our moment. No need to thank me…’

Had it not been for the roaring thunder, he'd probably hear your galloping heart, yet his composure betrayed just that acknowledgement. Every fiber in your body ached to touch his soul and mend it. The erotic tension you couldn't deny, but that wasn't anywhere near the reason why you'd willfully allowed yourself to become his accomplice. He sat back down, timidly reaching for your hand with his own smooth fingers, to place it on his cheek, now as warm as to ignite all the fires inside you with only one touch. Regardless of the endless torment of his life, it was so effortless to feel safe in his presence, even if he'd just killed three men in cold blood and joggled his life as he balanced on a thin string.

‘But I want to. Will you... let me thank you?’ his eyes had meekly turned to yours with a restless heeding for that glimpse of complicity you'd joined in a few times before.

‘If you insist, sweetheart, I guess you already did. You're welcome.’ And through that smile you could feel your body radiating as intensely as a candle flame in the dark. You’d tripped and fell into feelings for him, and nothing could brush them off.

‘No... I really want to thank you, kitten...’ Painfully slowly, he drew himself closer to you, a cocktail of demureness and ardor shaping his beautifully chiseled face into one that you'd missed your whole life, without even knowing. ‘I want to... put my mouth on you...’

Oh… He'd shown you a short, blissful glimpse of this other Arthur, the less tense, less uptight, more daring when he'd taken what you both wanted. There was always a limit to his courage, and yet he’d usually fall back into the timid, maiden like demeanor that he was. This felt different though, as there was a glimpse of unbridling in the way he inhaled, in the twitch of his contoured eyebrow, his whispering husky voice demanding consent. He needed this. Perhaps it would help deafen the torment for a quiet minute, and you were willing to let him try. Oh, who were you fooling, your heart had leapt at the thought of this since you saw him motionless on your couch, albeit in your mind the roles had been reversed. You'd bitten your lip instinctively, a most nonverbal cue of compliance to his plea, and within a short second he was tasting it, sucking it, biting it gently, as his nimble fingers strolled so tenderly through your hair to uncover your face, your eyes already deeply sunk behind fluttering eyelids.

‘I want to feel you shiver in my mouth' he whispered with a faltering voice, taking in all of your scent through avid nostrils. ‘You always smell so good, so clean… I want to taste you…'

So tender he was, you'd forgotten what it felt like to be wished for, body and soul alike, yet his palms willingly showed you a striking contrast to the tenacious Arthur who'd barged in days ago, as if your skin was porcelain and he wouldn't want to break you. He uncovered your naked skin underneath the fluffy bathrobe and smoothly tasted the growing prickles with curious fingertips, lowering himself towards your thighs at a painstakingly slow pace that would soon have you beg.

Pulling you to the edge of the couch where he’d slid himself, he finally broke the jarring tension of his eye contact just to move his head lower, descending decisively. The instant his curious lips parted, a shiver jolted through your flesh and your heart leapt into a marathon, you let yourself fall into his mouth without any control. How beautiful he was, you reminded him over and over as your fingers slicked his damp hair back, curling it around his ears, uncovering his furrowed forehead and perfect chiseled jawline. The sight of him between your thighs was no stranger, but you’d only seen it from afar until now, deep within the corner of each of your fantasies. Such a kind soul he was, but that mouth a wretched devil… oh my…

For a second he looked as if he'd forgotten all his sorrows as he strolled his tongue over your petals, tasting your skin one inch at a time, gently exploring to test your every reaction to his laps, his eyes fascinated with each of your whimpers. The throbbing love button he'd unveiled, a curiosity he had to touch with his tongue to feel the pulsation, your purrs a source of the validation in an endless sea of self doubt. Taking his time, curiously exploring this newfound medication for his sorrowful blues, he quickly grew hungry and greedy as an addict for a stronger fix, yet somewhat cautious to not overdose. His dilated basil eyes etched onto your contorted face, delighting in each tiny reaction he drew from you with his mouth, yet the catalyst to set you fully ablaze were his own moans as he enjoyed himself enjoying you. Oh God, what is he doing to me, I never want him to stop…

You’d thought you'd be the one comforting him, but it seemed as if he was doing it for both of you. His eyes moved around maniacally, taking in the shape of your naked breasts, of your nipples hardened at the thunderous air in the room, your moans guiding him into a delicate rhythm that could make you climb walls, even with the clumsiness that came with tasting a new person. He couldn't be a novice, although his curiosity was striking and enticing. Regardless of all that sorrow he'd brought with him, he curled a satisfied smirk under his scar and an impertinent twitch of his eyebrow sent you into a frenzy. His jades dilated at seeing your lips bitten, your eyebrows furrowed, close to crying in ecstasy, unable to move at the pleasure he gave and gave some more.

The mercury in your thermometer jumped at knot speed towards one big show of fireworks whose fuse got consumed by his kindling flame at a slow pace. Thoughts of his recent killing spree rushed through your mind, yet you were as high as a kite. You didn't care. So you let them ooze out to leave a hazy emptiness behind to be filled with all this spectacle of indulgence.

The pleas were whimpering whispers as you arched and etched your fingers in his smooth cocoa hair to anchor him, the other palm clenching a poor throw pillow to deformation. You hips guided by the rhythm of his palms on your waist, your moans deepening as he'd made you move onto his face, using it as a fine tuned instrument to orchestrate the crescendo of both your pleasure. Now that all your 8000 sensory nerve endings could light Gotham for Christmas if visible, his tongue flickered around your pearl, feeling the climax building up towards that overwhelming rapture. Moans turned to shrieks, toes and fingers clenched in reflex, his eyes and mouth on you as he winked from under long dark eyelashes. You combusted so powerfully into his mouth, within a few blissful seconds you'd left him glistening in traces of yourself.

Only as you quivered your last drop of pleasure in his mouth did you realize why he'd needed this so badly, he craved the validation of being a man even if his identity in shatters. It was one thing to have no identity, but another to not even be a man. Pleasuring you was one damn win that would hold his feet on the ground if he did it right, and that he could control. He had been scrutinizing you as you gasped for air, your eyebrows furrowed almost painfully, your flushed delicate muscles still throbbing under his tongue.

‘Oh, Arthur, that was… amazing…’

Still lingering his lips onto your inner thighs, he kissed tenderly as your flesh still twitched. You wanted him even more now than you did before. But tonight should be about him, even if he'd taken the lead so gracefully, so skillfully, so deliciously.

‘Yeah…’ the shyest smile draped across his tinted face, 'I felt that, kitten. I've… never really done this before…’ You'd known, deep down, and yet hearing him say the words was the most tender of piano nocturnes to your ears, so you latched at his mouth to taste him through your flavor, one that if you could bottle up, it would drive mankind rabid into destructive adoration.

Come here, Arthur, you whispered as you pulled him next to you, the puzzlement over his arching eyebrows an absolute delight you'd dreamt of relentlessly. He didn't fight it, yet the stiffness in his bones betrayed an urge he'd palmed away many nights without resolution, anxiety creeping over him at the realization it was now staring him in the face.

‘Wh… what are you doing?’, you shushed him as a response.

‘Kitten, please, don't feel like you need to give me anything back…’

‘Who said anything about giving back? I'm taking this for myself, Arthur. Let go, baby, let me take care of you'

‘Kitten… ohh' his eyes went straight to the back of his head, heavy eyelids covering his jades, his lips parted as your fingers traced the bulge straining his pants to suffocation. ‘Ok…’ he exhaled anxiously, a timidly bouncing knee betraying the rush of emotion flowing through him as you dragged his clothes over his head, his pants crowning the floor within a few seconds, leaving him naked to your hungry gazes.

The flickering light of the candles reflected over his protruding ribs as if a part of his body had caved in under the weight of his shoulders, his palms on your face strolling and tasting the reality of your flesh, he must have thought you were a side effect of his medication. Yet the prickling shivers traversing his body as you trailed your fingers over it were not. You reached for his lips as you lay him across the couch, your breasts invading his chest, the warmth of your body soothing his anxious trembling. That defeated look on his face, so vulnerable he'd made himself to you, he had nothing to give yet you still wanted him. He was mystified with even the remote possibility, let alone you giving him that adoration he'd chased endlessly, but never caught.

‘You are so beautiful, Arthur, let me show you, please…’ He was your paradise lost in the depravity of Gotham, a villain in itself, weighing down on each of its residents and having chosen Arthur to crush mercilessly under its own lack of a well defined identity, ready to teach us all lessons in humility that could lead to desperation.

He nodded shyly, his jades coated with an acute layer of yearning over something he'd never been given before. His body was a withered Stradivarius, abandoned in the corner of a cold, damp world, subjected to years of weathering and painful lack of any care, no wonder he was so feeble in between your fingers. But his strings were steel, and steel doesn't weather. It would naturally respond to external factors just like anything else but no amount of forcing, pushing, suppressing would bring out the brilliant austere sound it was designed to bring. Had he been less frail, you'd relate him to a cello, one that needs to be held tight to one's chest before playing it, where its resonating chamber rests upon the artist's heart as she moves the bow on the saddest of instruments. Yet he was so fragile, the wails of his chords almost bringing you to tears as you ghosted over them, testing what amount of pressure would bring the vibration, how to explore the potential of the sound and bring it closer to perfection. You were there to give him all that, to polish all the dust away, his wrinkles, his chiseled edges, to practice on his strings and validate his worth until he felt himself a Stradivarius for the first time in his life. He'd been blessed with a beautiful instrument that could bring such intense sensory bliss if only he'd find the right hands, and you longed to play him through the night, to tear your fingers into his chords and to sing his melancholy away.

What a trembling mess he'd become as soon as your lips strolled down his neck, the smell of rain and cigarettes off his skin intoxicating you into indelible addiction. The farthest you went, the more you saw how little he expected that you'd turn your full attention to him, as if never daring to expect anything other than what you'd allow him to take. You kissed your way down from his chest, palms exploring and fondling every bony texture, every inch of soft skin until reaching an extremity that felt to your fingertips as both together. Trembling, he slicked back his hair and sunk deeper into the couch, scrutinizing your face in detail and feeding you those micro expressions of Arthur and Carnival together, the twitch in his eyebrow a give away that you'd be playing for an audience of two tonight.

So immersed in the overflow of sensation he was as you took him into your mouth, his only verbal response a muffled ‘F-fuck, kitten', but his whole body screamed a different story of twitches at the touch of your tongue and lips. How demure the sounds he made as he shivered over and over, his eyes shut tightly, his mouth half open, heavy breaths raising his chest, quivering lips alternating silent approvals or four letter curses, as if careful to not be caught. So painfully expressive, all you wanted was to see him melt under your touches like silver over a burning flame without a hurry in the world, your tongue tracing a tale more evocative than any words could ever express.

With each stroke of your lips, he let go to all but that intense pleasure, as if your mouth held the power to oust the very fabric of reality, offering him an escape into a wonderland he'd been denied entrance all his life. He wants to be wanted, needs to he needed, lusts to be lusted for, his quivering lips more than enough validation for that thought. As you felt his muscles unwind, his fingers tremoring, his breath traversing his trembling body, you'd made him float in an isolation tank of indulgence. When you stopped, his voice would growl and whimper in reflex, the purring sounds begging for more. Some would call it schadenfreude, you called it your tiny overdose in hearing him say 'please' as you teased and inflamed him. His taste in your mouth, his smooth texture, his delicate skin, you wanted nothing more than to lock that door and trap him in this perpetual state of bliss. For eternity wouldn't be enough to put together all his broken pieces, but it would be a start.

The meekness in his jade eyes was wrenching, yet as he looked into yours, you quickly understood why. You couldn't hear his silent whispers, yet you knew he was begging for more as the throb in your mouth intensified and his whimpering green eyes slid to the back of his head, his palms clenching the couch so forcefully he could tear into it. It mattered no less as you felt him completely let go throb after throb, his body convulsing in spasms, the taste of him ambrosia hidden from all other mortals.

His head sunk deep in the couch pillow, his arms and body heavy and immobile, breath ragged, he giggled for the first time that day, a laugh so genuine it felt foreign to both of you, a rattled stranger you both wanted to welcome in and nurture back to his feet. As he lay sprawled on your couch, naked and ecstatic, you wished he was happy, for once. You needed a minute to freshen up, and as you returned to shut the windows and lay a blanket over him, he'd almost dozed off from exhaustion.

You sunk next to him as slick as a cat, laying him onto your chest and fondling your fingers in his damp cocoa hair, his limbs latching at you rendering you almost breathless with the radiating warmth of his body.

‘Kitten, I… I don't know how to thank you…’, he whispered in the nook of your neck, asleep had his flesh not sweetly twitched him back to a half awake state. ‘I've been off my medication for a few days, but I might have found an endless supply of pure morphine…’. His body had finally rested its convulsion, his limbs falling heavier, his breath slower, within a few seconds of his thought his eyes already moved spastically under heavy eyelids.

He was right, he'd found pure morphine, and so had you. It would consume you both, but him in your arms was that feeling humanity had sought since its birth. A once in a lifetime adventure they'd write sonnets about in the past, one that was yours to experience and live through with Arthur. That morphine had just kicked in for both, and you were floating on a cloud high above the thunder slowly roaring away in the night.

------------------

Thank you for reading this far! ❤

A special thanks to a few of the lovely people in this community that inspires me to keep putting my odes to Arthur on paper:

@wuika @iartsometimes @impulsiveclown @arthurflecc @littlebird92 @life-or-something-like-lt @jokers-puddin-pop @arthurfleckownsmysoul @jokersdoll @bananabreaddough @paperorigami @ransomguest49 @daydreamhustler @arthurjokersgirl @forever-fleck @sweet-nothings04 jokerlicious @ajokeformur-ray @shaw-2000 @jaraysha1121 @jofic059​ @shit-i-love-clowns

[mxrstar]

[ID: the image appears to be a sunset, but there are clouds and mountains fading in and out on both side of the horizon. on the left of the setting sun, it says: "tomorrow comes anyway" / end ID]

TOMORROW COMES ANYWAY

[a playlist for rainy days, with described day-dreams for each song under the cut]

Smile — Mikko Ekko

you are in a bar, or a bedroom, or a field, or maybe a car.

your best friends are there, and you are tired. your night is supposed to be over. this song comes up on the radio, and after the first lines, someone looks up. slowly, you all start singing. ‘the worst is yet to come’ you scream, from the top of your lungs, and though it may not be true, part of you believes it. ‘the future is forever, so smile,” you say, and you believe that, too.

your friends smile back.

A Complete List of Fears Ages 5-28 (aprox) — The Yellow Dress

you have just finished reading your favorite book for the first time, and- you know that weird, soft burst of energy that hits when words line up your life in such a way that the keyhole of the worst door in your heart lines up with the sky? and you think that perhaps this time you can open it and let light in? that’s what you are feeling right now.

the song says there’s gonna be another day, and maybe, if you weren't feeling like this. you'd object, say: are you sure? does it matter?

right now, you leave it at that. for once, it feels like it's enough.

Don’t Stop — Fleetwood Mac

you are on a couch, about to fall asleep. someone is holding you, or maybe you are holding someone. it’s been a bad night, but not the worst you have had.

at some point, your friend starts moving their thumb up and down, caressing your skin. maybe their hand is on your cheek, maybe it’s on your arm, maybe on your leg. you won’t remember in the morning, but you will often think back to how warm it felt. when people ask you "if you could go back to a peaceful memory, where would you go?" you always answer with this.

Float On — Modest Mouse

you are alone in a park, laying on the grass. it’s spring, and you can feel it in the air. there are children laughing, and people talking, but not so many that it’s annoying.

you feel safe. you sing along to the words, eyes shut, hands closed into fists. nothing bad will happen to me today, you think, and nothing will. you write about it in your diary when you come home at night, even though there’s not much to say. you circle the date and the month, and draw a lopsided heart right beside it. you add the name of the song, Float On, to make sure you'll remember why.

World Spins Madly On — The Weepies

something bad happened. you are in a waiting room, or in a bedroom, or maybe in a bus. a person you love sits beside you, and they are listening to music. they hand you one of their headphones, as if to say ‘want to listen along for a while?’

you do. this song is playing. the person you love sings it quietly, and they have a beautiful voice.

it’s comforting. it doesn’t solve anything, but you are not looking for solutions.

'thank you,' you say, and they take your hand into theirs.

Can’t Go Back Now — The Weepies

you are at a party with a lot of people from your past. some of them you have forgotten, or your affection for them has faded, but none of them is a bad person. none of them truly hurt you.

at some point, during a quiet moment, this song plays in the background. there’s only two people who know the lyrics: you, and a friend that you used to care about tremendously. you haven’t talked to them in ages, but you lock eyes as you sing along, and it feels meaningful. it feels true.

you hope they are okay. you don’t know if you’ll have the courage to ask them, but even if you don’t, you think that this is enough. you both love each other, even after all those years.

Almost Made It — Racoon

something important and yet forgettable in the sum of your life went wrong. you lost a good job opportunity, but you have not-terrible alternatives. you came fourth place to a contest that has prices for the first three. you were turned down by someone you hoped would like you back. you failed a difficult exam. anything on that note.

someone brings you home, and this song comes on the radio. they know the lyrics, you don’t. when the songs start, it’s so on the nose that you both end up laughing. but then the person with you gets so fucking into it, and starts performing it like it’s a concert or something. it’s funny. sincerely so.

you ask them “can you stay with me? at least for this afternoon” and they say yes. of course.

Epitaph For My Heart — The Magnetic Fields

you just broke up with someone you love, or lost a friend, and you are with a good stranger.

you met them in a pub, or maybe online, or in class or at work. you don’t know them well, but they are attractive, and they make you feel comfortable, and they respect all your boundaries.

wherever you are, this song comes on. “oh, this is one of my favorites,” they tell you.

if you like dancing, then you are dancing with them when this happens. if you don’t, you are sitting somewhere, and they sway in place, mouthing along to the words.

what matters is: they are very charismatic. you start moving/dancing/singing, too, and discover that you can be charismatic, too.

you like the music. at some point, you forget what the words say.

I Have Made Mistakes — Oh Hellos

you are about to fall asleep, and faint music is playing from your phone. you are having trouble calming yourself down, but then this song plays.

it has been a very, very tiring day. for the first time since you woke up, you let yourself acknowledge it. you feel like you should be proud of yourself, and you are right to think so.

before the song is over, you fall asleep. you won't have nightmares, and you'll dream of butterflies.

Never Quite Free — Mountain Goats

you are on a train, or maybe on a bus. perhaps you are walking, or looking outside the window of a plane.

you are going home, but it’s a new kind of home. something that you are just starting to build, that still feels like a discovery every time you step into it.

sometimes it’s hard to remember that healing isn’t linear, and so part of you wonders if it will still be home, when you wake up sweating in the middle of the night, thinking that you don’t belong, that there’s some price you must pay to exist wherever you are.

but this song is here to tell you: yeah. yeah, it still is home. it doesn’t have to feel like that all the time, but it’ll wait for you, patiently, with open arms, when you are ready to call it refuge again.

This Too Shall Pass — Danny Schmidt

you hear this song live. it’s a group of people singing it on the side of a street. there’s four of them, and they all—they all believe this. they all believe in what the song says. you don’t know why you can tell, but you can.

it feels magical. people stop beside you, and—god, you think you all believe this, too.

and so you are standing there, in a place that you know well, with people you don’t recognise, and you feel life moving around you, and know, deep inside your heart, that this too, whatever this is, shall pass.

Ghost Of Corporate Future — Regina Spektor

you are washing the dishes after dinner, or doing something equally as tedious, and put music on to distract yourself. this song is what plays last, when you are almost done.

it’s a Saturday, and it has been a hard day cause you never feel like you have enough energy to do something you enjoy. as the song plays, though, you remember about a movie you have been wanting to watch for ages, and, for some reason, you feel suddenly excited. you want to see it, and you know you have people to talk about it with. slowly, you realise that you can’t wait to.

your smile grows as the song ends, and you rush to your room to get your computer and watch the movie.

(turns out, it’s very good. a new favorite. you live-blog it to your friends, and your jokes make them laugh)

Not The End Of The World (Even as We Know It) — Faded Paper Figures

the people you love most sit in front of you on a table. some of them are cooking, and those that are cooking put on this song to sing it.

it’s the only one they all know the words to.

they perform it like they are in a theater and you and your other friends are the audience. they make quite a mess, screaming the lyrics in each other’s faces with everything fragile still held loosely in their hands.

you look at them in awe.

eventually, you get up to hug them. one of them kisses your cheek, and hugs you so tightly they raise your feet from the ground, or maybe they shake your shoulders playfully. do something, anything that makes you feel alive.

you have a whole night ahead of you. you know it'll be beautiful.

No Brakes — Pigeon Pit

two people who are in love with each other are arguing about music. one of them says you have to listen to this song, okay? it’s so good. the other keeps arguing that they just don’t like the genre, okay?

it goes on for a while, and it’s endearing. eventually, the first person puts on this song. the other tries so bad to hate it, but when the music comes to an end, and the singer says I’m going to wake up tomorrow, whatever it takes they smile. it's a wide smile, open and sunny, and it's one that simply can't go unnoticed.

their partner screams in victory, then rushes to hug them. see!!! they say, i knew you’d like it!!!

then they turn towards you. what did i say? they go, i told you this was gonna be a success!

and you know what? they did. they did tell you, and you are happy for them. you high-five them, and their partner laughs.

This Year — The Mountain Goats

it’s new year’s eve. not a particularly good one, but not a terrible one, either.

you remember how everyone talks about this song, you remember the singer saying that around new year’s, much more people seem to listen to it. you wonder: who else is blasting it in their apartment right now? even if they are alone, and maybe especially if they are?

there must be more than you can visualise, sitting on their couch with their tv on mute and their phone opened on this one song.

some of them must be good people. you are not in this together, not really, cause you can’t reach them, but you are not in this entirely alone, either. not in a way that matters. not in a way that counts.

we are all going to make it through this year, you think. we have to.

I Know The End — Phoebe Bridgers

it’s today, or tomorrow, or ten years from now, and you are scared, but not in a way that hurts.

you are scared as background noise, cause you can’t tell, can’t know what will happen now.

and maybe the end is here, maybe something is about to fall, and there’s not much you can do about it.

you listen to this song, though, wherever you are now or will be in the future, and you think you like the music. you like that someone sat down and wrote it.

it’s not enough, but you make it be. just for now. just for a while.

[ccinagalaxyfaraway]

Oh my gosh I can't stop thinking about that chapter in "i take from you everything you allow" where Wolffe asks Plo if he's got a light for his cigarette and Plo just lights it with freaking force lightning. Could you do write a sequel to that or an extension of that scene? It's one of my favorite chapters in that fic

So that took a little longer than expected, but at last:

cigarettes and cilantro

from [ lit ]

1. 

Jedi die as easily as anyone else. 

The thought echoes in Wolffe’s mind. Jedi are not infallible. Shoot one, and he will fall over dead just like a trooper. There were so many bodies. He’d heard Generals Windu and Yoda speaking. One hundred eighty dead on the sands - and if they died like men, what else had he been taught that was a lie?

He throws his bucket onto his bunk. It rolls to a stop on top of his pillow, wobbling like a grave marker. He snarls and turns away from the macabre scene. 

His hands won’t stop shaking. They’re going to give him a Jedi. The vode have been called to action, and they’re going to give him a fragile, mortal Jedi who is not at all an invincible god, and he is going to watch his Jedi die on some battlefield because they die, that’s what they do, and Wolffe is only a man. He’s only a man, and his shaking mortal hands won’t stop shaking, damn the little gods.

He paces laps around the room. He wants to run, but outside the rest of his brothers are celebrating their first action in ten long waterlogged years, and he doesn’t want to spoil their mood, even if they are all deluded and he’s the only one who sees things as they really are. The restless energy crawls under his skin. He needs something, anything to make it stop. 

Bacara’s got that ARC vod who brings contraband in from off-world training exercises. The damn things smell like shit, but he swears they’re good for his nerves. It takes a few minutes to pick open Bacara’s footlocker and a few seconds to fish out the little paper box of cigarettes. The first breath burns, but he keeps at it and soon enough the tremors stop. 

It’s not quite enough to get rid of his sense of impending doom, but he thinks that nothing can do that anymore. They’re all living on borrowed time. There’s a blaster shot out there with his name on it, and it’s just a matter of when it finds him. 

2. 

There’s 576 troopers under his command, and 10 of them are still alive because their general is a reckless maniac. Plo Koon was supposed to be a nice, sensible High Councilor, not a walking mir’shupurla or’dinii like the 501st got, or a paklalatla diplomat like the 212th’s. 

Plo Koon is somehow even worse, because he goes about with his bad ideas and his silver tongue cheerfully. As if life is a game of cards in which he is the dealer rigging the results, and he won’t stop smiling about it. All that osik about Jedi serenity and wisdom was exactly that; Wolffe has yet to talk to a single vod whose jetti is as advertised. 

That alone would be enough to drive Wolffe to drink, except - 

Well, the whole jetti thing aside, he’s practically the picture of mandokar. He’s stubborn and an unholy terror on the battlefield, and so very pleased to be alive. If Jango could see him - well, he’d probably try to kill him, but if Jango heard his description, he’d approve wholeheartedly. And to say nothing of his loyalty; if any CC had allowed such a maneuver and risked their priority asset for troopers who really should have known better, there would be hell to pay. But the man took one look at the situation and went off to save his men simply because they were alive and needed the help.

The part of Wolffe that is predisposed to falling for people with mandokar is already bracing for impact. The part of him responsible for protecting his charge is getting ready to pickle his own liver. Since there’s not a drop of alcohol in sight, both parts are going to have to settle for chain-smoking. 

He’s got his own cigs now. Still crappy whatever’s-cheapest-and-available, but they get the job done. His standards, though low, do exist; he isn’t interested in cutting his already short lifespan materially shorter with death sticks. Bacara is a more understanding vod than, say, Fox, and didn’t kick up much of a fuss once his shit was replaced; now they swap complaints about their latest smokes. This one tastes even more like tar than usual and burns too quick.

He discards the remains of the cig and fishes out the next. A trooper - one of the lucky ones now singing the General’s praises - walks by.

“You okay, sir?” he asks.

“Just fine,” Wolffe grumbles, thumbing the wheel on his lighter for a spark. The shiny pauses.

“He’s really something, isn’t he?” he says. “The General. They said the Jedi were good, but I don’t think I really believed it. But he came back for us.”

“He did,” says Wolffe. “Don’t make him do it again,” he says, and takes a long drag. 

3. 

His General uses Force lightning, and he uses it to light cigarettes. If that isn’t a frivolous use of the Force, Wolffe doesn’t know what is. He should probably be more concerned than he is, but the calming effect of the tobacco has already settled in. 

He keeps going back to the moment Plo stepped in close, like a challenge, like an invitation, and the urge to get him up against the wall and make him show something other than his cool composure. There must be something under his facade of unshakable calm. He doesn’t have hair to pull, but his fussy, excessively draped robes would provide as good a handhold as anything. He’d resist, of course; the fight would be part of the fun, but they’ve already established that Wolffe is the better between them at hand-to-hand. Wolffe would win in the end.

They’d start with their usual exchange, short, sharp jabs to test one another’s guard, and then longer flurries as they warmed up. Wolffe would allow Plo to press forward, would draw him in slowly, gradually, until he was in throwing range. Plo would notice and fall back, and their dance would continue. And then Plo would tire, as he did without the Force, and he would slow, and maybe the first few times he lingered in range too long Wolffe would be lenient and allow him to escape, sliding just out of reach. But at the edge of his endurance, Wolffe would catch him and haul him down to the ground, hold him wrists to the dirt, pinned by Wolffe’s weight. And he’d lean in, their breaths mixing, and -

Ah, fuck. The cigarette has burned almost all the way down in the time that he’s been dreaming. He takes a last drag and shakes himself loose of the fantasy. It’s never going to happen anyway. 

4. 

He’s sitting outside watching the stars and the arm of the galaxy in the night sky. There’s nothing left to do for the night. Everything’s tucked in and the captains can take care of whatever petty issues might arise. He’s got himself an honest-to-gods night off, and he knows exactly what he’s going to do with it. 

Plo settles beside him, his robes brushing quietly against the grass, and obligingly provides a spark when Wolffe holds out a cig. The smoke curls unpleasantly in the air and Plo leans away, nose wrinkling behind his mask. It’s not especially poisonous to him; it just gets caught in the rebreather and takes forever to cycle out. Still he comes to join Wolffe when he has nothing to do except burn a pack. 

“The benefits outweigh the drawbacks,” he says when Wolffe asks. “I’d accept your company however it is offered.” He lies stretched out on the ground, head so close to Wolffe’s hip, one clawed hand resting at the hollow where his ribs end, the other absently spinning a flower that smells like cold. 

“You could ask me to stop,” says Wolffe. It’s just a pastime; he doesn’t get cravings. His hands don’t shake for lack of nicotine. But - why not indulge a little when tomorrow and its consequences may never come? Will likely never come, even, the way the war is going. 

Plo hums instead of giving an answer. “I think, when we return to the ship, I should like to plant a garden.”

“Oh?” There’s not very much room that hasn’t already been claimed. A corner in the bay area that used to be for shuttles. Maybe he could clear out a spot by the engines. Plants liked heat, right? 

Plo hums again. “I have not tasted kand in many years. It grows poorly away from Dorin.”

Wolffe resists the urge to comment. Dorin doesn’t share any of its creations well, present company included. In fact, Wolffe is convinced present company might have a few more working brain cells had he not convinced the Sages to convince General Windu to bring him to Coruscant. But Plo continues as though he can’t feel the sarcasm coming off Wolffe in waves. 

“It’s a shrub, you see. Maintaining the necessary environment through the first nonproductive seasons makes it an unattractive option for commercial off-world growers. Only a few attempts have been made, even by the Agri-Corp.”

“Seems like you might be better off trying something else,” says Wolffe. “Seems like a lot of work for something that you might never see.”

“Perhaps,” says Plo, and then he takes off on another tangent. 

5.

He’s thinking about tomorrow and all the days that come after, and he’s thinking about what being happy feels like, and mostly he’s thinking about Plo, because he can have Plo if he wants and he knows it, and he’ll take Plo even if he might lose him later, and the losing will hurt more than anything else ever could, but the not having is even worse. And each moment of having makes the possible Plo-less future even more terrifying, but also moves the future where he gets to keep Plo closer into reach, and that’s worth it, isn’t it? To have and to hold, and to keep reaching for the future that he wants. 

He’s thinking and Plo is coming to him, and he’s got a cigarette between his fingers, the last of the box. He bends it in half and bins it unlit. 

“Not to your taste?” Plo asks, falling into step behind him.

“Nah,” says Wolffe. “Think I’ve found something better.”

[littledarlinwrites]

Dream a Little Dream Of Me

1940s!Bucky Barnes x Reader

This is for @teamcap4bucky Summer Sun and Fun Game! Thank you so much for hosting and for being so patient with me when I screwed up the due date. This was specifically written for @majesticavenger, I'm so sorry for the wait, but I hope it was worth it! Anywho, this is the first time I've wrote 40s!Bucky and I'm hella needy at the moment 'cause life, so leave me some love y'all! (Also, as soon as I can jump on my laptop I'll add a keep reading link, I'm not savvy enough to do it on mobile).

You trudged up to your Brooklyn apartment, your cat howling on the fire escape outside your bedroom window to be let in. A tired smile graves your face after a long day of work. A job you were grateful for, but bittersweet under the circumstances, patients sick or dying, and men going off to war only to never return either physically or mentally. You couldn't wait to hide away in your apartment for the rest of the night, draw a hot bath, listen to a radio program before nodding off to sleep. And, if you were lucky, maybe your apartment pen pal had sent you another note attached to your cats threaded collar. The thought of it made you pick up your pace as you climbed your apartment buildings staircase.

You practically ran into your apartment and to your bedroom window, flipping the latch and looking for the paper that was typically wrapped around your cats collar and tied with a baby blue string.

You found the paper, tying the baby blue string to an embroidery hoop with the others you collected. Today the note was short, just a song suggestion, something he would do on a rough day. You drew your bath water while turning up the radio station to catch the song. It wasn't until you were crawling into bed that the song played. Moonlight Serenade. You just hoped Lucky, the nickname he had told you to call him, was somewhere listening to it too.

The following morning you rushed around to get ready for the day and out the door in time. You scribbled your note to Lucky and wrapped it around the cat's collar before shooing it out the window.

----

Bucky laid on his bed, window open, waiting for the furry creature to make its way to him like it always did. Nox, she had said was the cat's name. Usually Bucky appreciated cats from a distance considering they would make him sneezy and itchy, but he couldn't help but enjoy the conversations with his pen pal. Luna, she had said to call her. A nickname her mother gave her due to her infatuation with the giant orb in the sky. He won every single match after he started talking with her, and he didn't consider that a coincidence. 

Bucky heard the mewling from the black cat before he felt it curl up on his chest. He scratched the cat behind its ears causing the cat to purr contentedly before he began unfurling the note attached to its knitted collar. 

“Silently if, out of not knowable

night’s utmost nothing, wanders a little guess

(only which is this world) more of my life does

not leap than with the mystery your smile

sings or if (spiraling as luminous

they climb oblivion) voices who are dreams,

less into heaven certainly earth swims

than each my deeper death becomes your kiss

losing through you what seemed myself, I find

selves unimaginably mine; beyond

sorrow’s own joys and hoping’s very fears

yours is the light by which my spirit’s born:

yours is the darkness of my soul’s return

–you are my sun, my moon, and all my stars”

-E. E. Cummings

Bucky read the poem three times before reaching for a piece of paper and jotting down some words. He wrapped the piece of paper around the cats collar, tying it with a frayed blue string from his work shirt and turned over to get a couple hours of sleep, if only his heart would stop fluttering like a hummingbird in his chest.

----

Walking through your door was a complete relief, even more so after stripping your nurses outfit and stockings. The hot shower relaxing your stiff and sore muscles. You donned your nightgown before opening your window for your cat to come home while running a brush through your wet strands. Eventually you heard the telltale meowing of your hungry cat before you heard its soft padding jumps to your floor from your window. You manage to scoop the black cat into your arms before you have to chase him through your apartment. You pull the thread holding the note onto his collar and unfurl the note to read it.

My lucky star

You shine so brightly

My lucky star 

You guide me through the night

My lucky star

You give me hope

My lucky star

You guide me home

My lucky star

You help me more than you know

My lucky star

Oh how you glow

My lucky star

Please never let me go

The words set fire to your face as your stomach erupted with a swarm of butterflies. You pulled out your journal, pressing the note between the next set of empty pages. You turn your radio on humming along to the song as you lay in your bed fighting sleep just to think about Lucky just a moment more.

When you wake in the morning you grab a paper and something to write with as you write down a couple lines to a song, one of your favorites, before you got ready for the day, humming the tune on your way to work and all through your day. Except, you forgot to leave the window open for your cat to get out to pass on the waiting note.

----

Bucky was fighting sleep waiting for the cat to prance his way through the window before making a home on his bed. Sleep clawed at his mind, his eye lids weighed heavy and sore with a need for rest. And just like that, Bucky fell asleep for the first time without the sound of a cat purring on his bed.

He woke up and walked to the shipyard, loading and unloading pallets until the sun hung low in the sky. He felt off kilter all day. Like he was just a hair off with his footing and could never get it quite right. He was a bit more clumsy than usual. All signs that he should cancel his match tonight and back out while he still could, but he trudged on, assuring himself that he could use the money so maybe he could take his lucky star out on a proper date. He made his way to the Y for his match pumping himself up, he just couldn't help this nagging feeling though that he was missing something.

----

When you got home from work your humming abruptly stopped when you saw your cat staring at you in the middle of the room, tail twitching every so often. Your shoulder slumped when you realized you never let your cat out with your note. You moved slowly to refill the food bowl before making yourself a small dinner. Your gut sinking by the minute that something was wrong. You went to bed that night hoping the feeling would pass by morning.

When you woke you realized you were running late. You dressed quickly before running out the door and to the hospital before checking your patient list, a relatively short one, but you had patients to attend to nonetheless. You made your way through your rounds before stopping at the last bed. A mess of bruises, a boxers fracture, sprained wrist, 2 broken ribs and the rest bruised, a black eye and a concussion. However, one look into the man's eye that wasn't swollen shut took your breath away. You decided then that blue was your all time favorite color. You checked his pulse, administered his medication which involved rousing him from his slumber, and making sure his bandages were fresh and in place. You turned to leave but stopped short at the site of a baby blue work shirt with frayed edges. You thumbed over the loose threads and noticed it was missing a few as if they had been pulled and cut for a purpose. The faintest whisper escaped you.

"Lucky?" A few beats passed before you heard the man you were just attending to clear his throat.

"Luna?" He asked confused. Your hand flew to your mouth as you gasped. You couldn't believe the man that made you blush on more than one occasion, that had worked his way into your dreams even though you had never seen his face, was now your patient.

"You okay there, doll?" He asked. When you barely nodded telling him yes he began to move as if to get out of bed sending you into a flurry of motion. 

"Lucky, you're hurt-"

"Bucky. I mean, my real name is James Buchanan Barnes, but most people call me Bucky." He grits out as pain shoots through his ribcage.

"Well, Bucky, you're hurt, you shouldn't move much quite yet." He nods as he waits for the wave of pain to pass.

"What happened to you?" You can't help but ask.

"I, uh, work at the shipyard during the afternoon, but at night I box. Damn good at it too. Guess luck just wasn't on my side last night, doll."

"Uh, Y/N. My name that is. My name is Y/N." A smile made its way onto Bucky's face.

"Why didn't you write back, doll? Didn't think my on the spot poem was that terrible." The giggle that managed to escape you at his humor about his poetry was like music to his ears, and he decided that he wanted to hear that sound forever.

"Sorry, that was my fault. I wrote you a note, I really did, but I forgot to open the window for my cat to deliver it. I loved your poem actually." A blush crawled upon Bucky's face at your words. 

"What was the note?" He asked curiously. 

"Oh, just some lines from a song, nothing special."

"It's always special coming from you, doll. What was the song?" This time it was your turn to blush.

"Dream a Little Dream of Me." You replied bashfully.

"What lines?"

"Sweet dreams till sunbeams find you

Sweet dreams that leave all worries behind you

But in your dreams whatever they be

Dream a little dream of me."

"That's one of my favorites, doll."

The rest of your shift you spent at Bucky's bedside talking music, poetry, family, pets, friends, where your apartment was and everything else under the sun. You told Bucky you would come by tomorrow to spend the day with him since it was your day off. You couldn't wait to come back, although it was bittersweet realizing there would be no note to come home to. 

When you woke the next morning you heard a tapping at your door. You opened it to reveal Bucky standing there with a bouquet of flowers with a note.

I dreamt a little dream of you.