#first has saved me so many times second is making me shake the bars of this cage while I want to get a rust inspired bird tattoo

[kirnet]

A good rule of thumb for fandom related tattoos is to wait until the series is completely over. It will save you so much grief in the future. Second is to wait at least a year to see if this is even a lasting love.

[lunarflux]

x: Thomas Shelby found his match in an information bookie who has eluded the grasp of the Peaky Blinders long enough to crumble their power over Birmingham. But at last, he found you. The ghost he'd been chasing was finally in front of him, but you were trickier than he expected. Dangerous, cunning - and a bit too much like himself. To buy your loyalty, he would have to sell his in equal measure. Loyalty for loyalty - blood for blood - how much were either of you willing to spill before the game changed entirely?

part 9: an uncommon kindness

word count: 1,875

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You knew it was coming—the sensation you half-heartedly referred to as an adrenaline crash. It could have been the whiskey, but that would have been an excuse, a poorly crafted one at that. The vision of scarlet ribbons stayed at the forefront of your thoughts, severed flesh and the whites of that man's eyes just after that. No matter how many times it happened, it never got any easier. Or maybe it did, but those moments did not come often, and that's how you preferred it.

After finishing your last drink, you quietly left the Garrison without announcing your departure. You heard the faint shouts of your name as the door closed behind you, but the acid that quickly traveled up your throat at the first taste of cold air kept you preoccupied. You stood alone in an alley, hands bearing down against brick, and let your body do what it had to. That part never lasted long, and it was only a matter of time before the tremble would follow.

For that, you blamed the oncoming winter, and if anyone asked, you were just foolish enough to keep your coat undone.

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The silence after the pub emptied lingered, a heavy weight hanging in the air. Arthur and John let the laughter die out, the adrenaline from the confrontation still buzzing in their veins.

Arthur glanced at John, noticing that his eyes kept returning to the spot where you stood with whiskey dripping from your fingers, the flicker of cold anger in your eyes still fresh in his memory. He was trying to make sense of it all, the way you moved so effortlessly, how you took charge in a situation that most people would’ve hesitated to act in.

“Fuckin' hell...” John started, shaking his head slightly. “One slip, and she could've taken my head off.”

Arthur snorted, leaning against the bar with a half-smirk. “She saved you, John boy. How'd that feel?” He paused, eyeing the door where you walked out. “I reckon you're not gonna give her a pretty little cut now.”

John's brows furrowed as he walked behind the bar, pouring himself a drink to steady the nerves that were steadily returning. “Should we tell Tommy? Fuck—Arthur, I swear to God—if she'd waited a second too long, you'd be stitching me up right now.”

“I’ve seen Tommy do that,” Arthur muttered, almost to himself. “He doesn’t waste a second. Just... Brought the hammer down on their heads. She's the same.”

John looked up, his expression unreadable. “She could’ve let it go. Let us handle it.”

A small smile tugged at Arthur's lips. “Not used to a woman who's not Esme being able to take a swing, eh?"

“She’s one of us now, isn’t she?”

Arthur nodded slowly, his face thoughtful. “Looks to be that way. You heard what Tommy said—told him it was 'just business.' And today's business was either to leave you with a hole in your back or to waste her whiskey. Guess that makes you more valuable than whiskey.”

John cleared his throat. It was a crude but accurate comparison. “But you reckon she cares, yeah? About us, I mean. Or is this just business to her? Because of what we found?”

Arthur doesn’t immediately respond. He looked towards the door, his mind clearly elsewhere. “She didn’t do it for anyone but herself. Made one hell of a point by doing it. Thought she was all talk.”

John watched Arthur, his eyes narrowing as he processed everything.

Arthur rubbed his chin thoughtfully, his gaze still on the door. “She's smarter than us, John boy. In her eyes, there wasn't ever a debt to be paid to you. Fuck... You probably owe her now.”

John’s expression flickered with a realization.

Arthur’s eyes flash with a sharp, knowing look. “Only thing left to do now is make sure you won't owe her something you can't afford. That's what Tommy's gotta deal with now.”

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After the dust settled the next morning, you returned to the betting house, your breath steady and face as unreadable as ever. Tommy was already speaking with the others, his voice commanding, his attention fully back in control. But it was Polly who lingered near you, studying you in that way only she could.

“You’ve got a habit of making people nervous, you know that?” She stood with her arms crossed, not bothering to spare you the eye contact. “Arthur and John—they’ve been talking. And I’ve been listening.”

You sighed with the same cold demeanor she gave you. “And what exactly have they been saying, Polly?”

She smiled, but it was thin, sharp. “Your little stunt at the Garrison last night is quickly making its rounds. If you were secretly hoping for fame, it looks like you're on your way there.”

Her next question hit you heavy with scrutiny and suspicion. You clenched your jaw, preparing for whatever she might ask you because the last thing you wanted was to be unprepared two days in a row. All this fuss made your actions feel more like a burden than a mindless reflex activated by your awareness, something you usually took pride in. It shouldn't have been a surprise Polly thought otherwise.

“So what exactly are you trying to prove by saving John? Was it for him? Or was it for you?”

You swiftly lit your cigarette, answering into the cupped palm of your hand and the flickering flame. "Does it matter?"

"It's that kind of rash thinking that could get you in trouble," she said, her voice low but firm, "Just ask Tommy. He's had to clean up John and Arthur's messes before, and you adding to that mess was not part of the deal you made."

You didn’t respond immediately, letting her words hang in the air, only shifting slightly as you looked at her. Your voice, cold as always, cut through the silence.

“I didn’t want to wait,” you said simply, your eyes locking with hers.

Polly’s eyes narrow, a flicker of something dangerous crossing her features. “Darling, you’ve got everyone’s attention, and I’m not so sure that’s a good thing. You think just because you step in at the right moment that we’ll forget what’s really going on?”

You don’t move an inch as you reply, your voice colder than before. “Have you ever considered that I just do things, or, to you, there must be a motive behind it? That's exhausting, Polly. If you'd rather I give you a reason every time I leave to do fuck all, then eventually, it's all going to be lies.”

Polly studied you for a moment, then took another step forward, her eyes never leaving yours. “Yes, well, I can see it now. Let's say you 'just do things,' then what will happen when you don't? Hm? The next time you choose not to act, will it be your fault or theirs?”

She paused, the air between you both tense.

“I'll say this. Tommy does stupid things that most see as impulse, but he always has a reason. Do what you will—shoot the next man who's made you cross. But you better have a damn good reason for getting blood on our carpet. Being stupid with a reason, I can forgive. Mindless impulse, I cannot.”

You straightened your back. With a subtle roll of your eyes, you hung your head to the side, humming from the small ache in your neck. “Can't you fucking Shelbys say 'thank you' or is it in your nature to interrogate now and give thanks never?”

With a smirk, Polly shook her head and left you alone with smoke trailing behind her.

You swore under your breath. You should've left it alone, let John deal with his own mess. You didn't even know who the man was or why he tried to do what he did, and you didn't bother asking John anything. Your subtle mistakes were slowly catching up to you, and now it was a matter of keeping yourself in check before Tommy assumed like Polly did.

When you looked up from your cigarette, Tommy was slowly approaching you with two glasses in his hands. He handed one to you with his eyes steady in anticipation.

You took a brief sip cautiously.

He didn't speak. He just stood in front of you with his own glass, the silence steadily making you feel uncomfortable. This was the other part of being on his side that was getting to be exhausting—the way he used silence to convince you to say something first.

It mostly bothered you because you knew you did the same thing.

"His name was Leander," Tommy finally spoke. "Old fling of John's wife."

You didn't nod or even show that you acknowledged what he was saying.

"He's alive. His people patched him up. We made sure they left Birmingham. They won't come back."

You set your glass down, crossing your arms with the cigarette between your fingers. "Get on with it."

Tommy chuckled, "With what?"

"I'm getting tired of explaining myself to you. And to Polly. If you're going to ask me why I did it, then do it now instead of calling me back here later."

Tommy lowered his eyes with a smirk. It was fun, seeing you become undone. The back-and-forth between you two was slowly wearing you down. He was so used to people giving up after the first try. You just kept fighting back, and that made it all the more interesting. That was what made games, fun after all. You wouldn't stop, so neither would he.

Curiosity could be satiated, but you made it a challenge. He'd step forward, you'd step back. You made your move, and he'd match you in equal measure. One of you held the knife, and the other held the blade, daring blood to fall just to see who'd pull back first.

He wasn't a fool. There was purpose behind your actions even if you didn't want to admit it. There was no part of your bargain that insinuated you needed to act in any way that forced you out of hiding, and yet you did.

There was a part of you—though you'd rather die than admit it—that was invested. Invested in Tommy, maybe, but it went beyond that. Perhaps, you couldn't help it. It could have been in your nature to be protective of your things, but because you stayed hidden for so long, the only possessions you'd been protective of until this point were sentimental trinkets, the ones that you used to decorate your office.

Now, you were protective of something else. That just meant there was more to lose.

Tommy wouldn't admit it out loud, but what you did forced the slightest change in his perception of you. You could protect yourself should it be necessary. It also hinted that you were fully aware of everything you did—you just held onto those reasons like you did everything else. Tucked away like a secret no one was worthy of.

When he finally grew tired of the silence, Tommy gave you a short nod, as if acknowledging that there was nothing left to be said. You watched him walk away, unable to see the the satisfaction on his face.

[rhaellatully]

B-Side (Fanfiction)

AO3

FF.net

AN/ Congratulation to Arcane for making me write again after 4 years... I really need to get back to my WIPs...

Anyway, a very very big thank you to @beforetimes who beta this fic and made it some much better (and also went through the trouble of correcting all of my mistakes)

She looks at her father in the eye one more time before she pulls the pin. She doesn’t hear the boom, instead she sees this orb, and she is being torn apart by it. The world spins around her. It pulls her in all directions. She can’t tell where is up or down. She wants to throw up. It spins, it shakes, she can’t see, until the kaleidoscope appears. She doesn’t hear the boom, but she hears her screams.

Something escapes her hands, followed by a loud noise. Beer spills on a wooden floor. 

Jinx stares at her hands: something is... different. Are her nails shorter and-

“Everything alright, Powder?”  A familiar voice calls.

She turns around and looks up. And there he is, standing behind the bar, like he always did.

“Vander?”

He looks normal, but older. Grey hairs and wrinkles are accentuated by the frown on his face.

“Are you okay?” He says, a worried look on his face.

Jinx saw and heard him so many times before, but never like this. He looks like he should have been. Like the doctor never found him. Like she never gave him to the doctor. Like she never killed him the first time, or the second. Like she never jinxed him.

What is going on? They should be dead. They were meant to die together. To free Vi from all the pain and suffering they bring. All the horrors she created were meant to be blown away. Reduced to ashes. Nothing but a bad memory. One that the Piltie would kiss away and make better.

So, why?

Vander is stepping away from the bar now. He’s coming toward her. She doesn’t know how to move anymore. She can’t run, but she can’t stay. 

The bell rings. Her head snaps toward it and the air is gone from her lungs. Mylo and Claggor walk toward her. They’re different too. They’re bigger. Claggor’s cheeks are smaller. Mylo’s hair is shorter than it should, and he has this moustache. They never looked like this, she never thought of them looking like this before. They’re different but they’re good different.

Vander’s hand is on her shoulder. It’s warm, so warm. His other hand came to wipe away a tear she hadn’t realised was on her face.

“What’s going on Powder?”

Uh, she made it to heaven, somehow.

She’s good different too, she finds out, looking at herself in the mirror after Vander sends her downstairs. He thinks she pulled one-too-many all nighters lately. Yet, the bags under her eyes are the smallest she’s ever seen. Her cheeks also look fuller. Her hair is shorter- no longer, she had cut it, then Ekko fixed it shorter. And there’s this pink strand, the same colour as Vi’s hair.

And her eyes too, no more shimmer, probably no more use for it here.

She doesn’t get to look at them for long, because a hand comes to cover them. In less than a second she spins her attacker around and he’s pinned against the wall. 

“Ouch! Sorry! Sorry!”

With trembling hands, she lets go of him.

“Ekko?” She asks, and a part of her wants to be wrong, wants him to have survived the battle. He had his time loop thingy, he shouldn’t have been able to lose. He should be alive, he has no business being here. He’s the boy savior. Unless he sacrificed himself to save someone, or everyone. He shouldn’t have died. People like her should die, not people like him. He wanted to make a good world, a better world. That’s what he should be doing, not being dead here with her.

But then, he gives her that kind smile as he rubs the back of his neck.

“Okay, I won’t try to surprise you anymore.” He says, and she doesn’t care anymore.

He’s dragging her through the streets as she tries to keep up while having no idea where they’re going. He won’t let go of her hand. He grabbed it at the Last Drop, and insisted that they had to go. She wanted to ask where, but lost the ability the second they stepped out. 

Zaun is good different, too. There’s so much light. The air smells better and it feels easier to breathe, almost like Topside. The buildings are not on the verge of collapsing. The people are walking around carefree, the children are running down the street laughing.

Heaven is a nice place.

They reach the bridge, there are no barricades, just shops, people and enforcers who look... friendly. She remembers the bridge of her life. She passes the spot where her parents died. A man is selling food there. 

Ekko guides her to where they could have died together and she loses her footing. He catches her. 

“Sorry,” he says, an apologetic smile on his face, “Maybe we should walk.”

Jinx wants to say no, because if they are not running, why would he hold her hand? But he doesn’t let go. 

They reach their destination. It’s the academy. She doesn’t understand what they’re doing here. Or why so many people are trying to get there. Ekko keeps walking but she doesn’t move. He stops rather than letting go of her hand.

He smiles at her again.

“I’m sure we made it. They’ve increased the number of seats available again. And even if they hadn’t, we’re not the ones who need it.”

She thinks she understands what he’s saying, but it doesn’t make sense. It can’t make sense.

He starts walking, and she follows all the way to the walls where the results of the entrance exam are plastered. 

“Let’s start at the bottom.” he says, and she lets him. Because if their names are on the boards somewhere, it has to be at the bottom, right? They’re brilliant, she knows it, but the Pilties and their academies care more for prim and proper language than groundbreaking ideas. Even with all the brains in the world, all it takes is one Piltie with a nice bag of money and their sit goes to someone else. Why bother trying? Just to be stuck in a classroom full of Pilties and fancy professors trying to teach them stuff they could learn on their own from books. They’d have easy access to the library, though.

They make their way up and their names don’t seem to be there. He seems so focused, as if he was looking for the solution to a complex equation. She sees him swallow hard as his hand rises higher. Will she see his face break again?

Then he laughs his hand is at the top of the board, and so are their names. Ekko first place, her second. 

“How?” It escapes her lips before she can think ‘it’s heaven, of course they’re there’. But Jinx never wanted to join the academy. So, why?

“Did you fill out the exam in crayon?” He asks with that damn smile on his face. 

Right, it’s his heaven too.

“We’re in the fucking academy,” she says, and she hears him laugh again.

This time he grabs her and swipes her off her feet. He spins her around once, before putting her down, still holding her. His forehead pressed against hers. She’s crying again. She doesn’t know why. 

Ekko’s hands leave her sides to grab her face again. His thumbs wipe away the tears. And he looks at her, that same way he looked at her toward the end. There’s something she doesn’t understand in his eyes. Until he looks down at her lips. Is he going to… kiss her?

He leans toward her, she leans away. He freezes and looks at her, confused. She leans toward him. Their lips meet. It’s nicer than she imagined.

Heaven really is a nice place.

They return to the Last Drop. The second they walk through the door, silence falls, and all the heads turn toward them. Everyone is here; Vander, Mylo, Claggor, Benzo. She sees more familiar faces around, and even Babette is looking at her with hope in her eyes.

“We made it!” shouts Ekko, and cheers erupt all around them.

Mylo almost runs at her arms stretched out, she expects him to strangle her, but he hugs her. She doesn’t have time to react before Claggor joins him. Jinx feels warm, like the sun itself is holding her.

“Vi would be so proud of you,” Mylo whispers and she feels cold all over.

She thinks she’s going to cry again, but she hears someone say, “Let her breathe.”

She almost fights her way out of their arms to turn around.

He’s here.

And he’s good different, too.

His eye. He doesn’t need her to give him his medicine. His scar doesn’t look as bad as it used to. He stands straighter. His skin is pinker. 

His smile is brighter than she’s ever seen it.

“Well done, Powder,” he says as he hugs her, “I knew you’d do great.”

“Silco,” she doesn’t cry, this time she laughs.

Heaven really is a place worth dying for.

The next day she’s nursing a violent hangover.

“I’ve never seen you indulge yourself so much before.” Vander tells her.

“Oh, she deserves it!” Silco joins in, “Before long, the two of them will be sitting on the Council.”

“Or not, if they don’t want to.”

“Of course!”

“As happy as I am to see the two of you like this, can you go do it elsewhere? My head is killing me.”

“Of course, Powder.”

It feels weird to hear Silco call her that, but she could get used to it.

She feels better in the afternoon when Ekko comes to find her. He says they should go tell Vi. She doesn’t understand what he means. But ever since she died, she’s learned to go with the flow.

They go to her lair. Even that place is brighter and warmer. There are different trinkets everywhere, and railings. It still feels like her, but a different her. A happier her, maybe.

They go to the tent. There’s a shrine to Vi. Why is there a shrine to Vi? She survived, she made sure she survived, so she can’t be here, but why is there a shrine?

“She looks so young,” Jinx comments when she looks at the painting of Vi.

Ekko takes her hand as they sit down. “If she could see you…” He doesn’t finish, Jinx is grateful for it.

She will see me, she wants to say, when she dies too she’ll see all of this and she’ll love it.

Jinx is making her way to Benzo’s shop with food to share with Ekko when she sees her. Her hair is brown again. She’s running around with a group of children, laughing so hard as she does. She knew they would meet here eventually. She skips toward her. Her heart swells with every step that brings her closer to her. 

She sees her trip on the ground. Jinx gaps and starts running, but another woman gets to her first. She picks her up and starts whispering sweet things at her.

They have the same eyes.

It makes sense. It’s heaven, so Isha has her first family back too. She’s safe and happy. And she doesn’t need Jinx. 

That’s a good thing. 

So why does her heart ache?

“Are you okay?” Ekko asks her.

“Yeah.” She doesn’t want to talk about Isha with him, especially when she has no reason to feel bad. Isha is with her other family, and so is she. It would have been better if they had never met anyway.

“Pow-pow,” Ekko calls to make her look at him, “ever since the entrance exam result, you’ve been… different. Are you still unsure?”

“No.” Well, maybe I never wanted to go to this academy anyway.

“You don’t have to go if you don’t want to. I just think with it, we can accomplish great things. There’s still so much to do for the undercity. And I know that together, we can do anything.”

Jinx has heard that last one before, when they were getting ready to go kick some Noxian butts. She smiles.

I am glad we died together this time.

After a while in the tunnels she recognises the way they’re going. He’s taking her to the Firelight’s hideout. She remembers when he first took her there, after she had let the grenade fall beneath them and let him guide her out of her lair. He had shown her his mural with her face at the centre. To remember and honour everyone they’ve lost. 

“To keep them in our hearts and move forward,” he had said, handing her paint, “What did she look like?”

And Isha had joined the mural as close to her as possible.

Jinx wonders what this place is now. Maybe there are people living there. Ekko had built this place to be a refuge. People don’t need  a refuge like back when she was alive here, though. It could be a playground, there were so many children there. Maybe here it belongs to them, and they play all day, just like she and Ekko did in the junkyard.

There’s water on the floor, it’s not deep, but it splashes when they walk. Once they’re inside she looks up, and freezes.

This is Vi. Her Vi. She’s not supposed to- Why is she-? How is she-?

Her breath quickens and they all start screaming at her. 

What have you done? You’ve managed to kill one of us after all! Why are you surprised? You’re a jinx. You cannot change your own nature. Jinx! You will never belong in heaven! Why would any God let you in? So that you can burn the place to the ground! You’re going to jinx us all again! This is a special hell crafted just for you! You’re a jinx! You’re not meant to be happy. Murderers don’t get happiness. You jinx everything!

“Shut up!” she shouts, throat raw.

She runs away. When she hears Ekko shouting after her, she runs faster.

She ran but had no idea where to run. She couldn’t go to her lair, it was different, it wasn’t hers. Nothing here was hers. Not the Last Drop and not the wrong Vander, or wrong Silco, Mylo, Claggor, or wrong everyone.

She ran to the cannery, this was a place for her. The place of Jinx’s birth. That’s where she belongs. But as she got closer she noticed the people going toward it. They looked sick and broken. This should have been a good sign but when she got there she saw in large bold letters the word ‘hospital’.

They have hospitals, the fucking cannery became a hospital.

Jinx ran away from that too. She went into the fissures, where the Grey still filled the air. They hadn’t fully eliminated it, they couldn’t fix everything. 

She sat down where she could see it fester below without coughing her lungs out. That’s where he found her, because of course he found her.

“You’re not my Powder, are you?” She hears him call behind her.

She chuckles humorlessly, “Nope, I’m Jinx.” Now, go away.

“Are you from the same place as the other Ekko?”

She sighs, “I guess.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

Was he ever going to leave? “I didn’t realise- he didn’t give me details, okay!”

She needs him to shut up. To stop talking to her as if she was Powder. To not be so nice to her. To not be here. She can feel him standing away from her. She can picture his face, with his eyes full of hope, just like that day on the edge of the turbine. She doesn’t want to see this fake Ekko and his perfect life with his perfect Powder. 

“Are you okay?”

Why does he have to be like this? Why is it that in every universe he’s like that? Always trying to save her.

“I’m not Powder, okay? Now leave.”

“Look, I’m just trying to help you.”

She turns to face him. He looks worried: of course he does. He doesn't understand that she's nothing like her.

“Just because I have her face doesn’t mean you have to care.”

“Actually you have more than her face, you are inhabiting her body.” He says with a cheeky look on his face, as if they were friends.

“Well, I don’t know how to leave it, so…”

“Powder, Heimerdiger and the other Ekko created a machine that could send him back. With their notes I’m sure we can figure it out.”

“Good for you.”

Powder and Heimerdiger aren’t here anymore. If he wants to build his machine, let him have a crack at it, but leave her out of it. Give the machine to her, she’ll probably find a way to blow the entire city up with it.

“Look, Powder-”

“Jinx! My name is Jinx.” She almost screams it at him. He flinches, and that’s how it should go.

“He did say you were different.” He says, not backing down, always the brave one.

“Oh, really?”

“He also said your ideas changed the world.”

She burst out laughing. That’s one way to put it!

“Do you know what I’ve done? Did he tell her?”

He looks at her with the same terror her Ekko used to. She laughs, almost manically. The way only a Jinx would laugh. The laugh that does nothing but scare people.

“I’ve killed them,” Jinx whispers at him and laughs some more, even when nothing feels funny at all. “Vander, Mylo and Claggor, all in one go. Silco too,” she pauses, “But that was later.” She gives him her smile and it makes him flinch. “And I killed so many of your friends in between.”

He stares at her and says nothing. 

“And I killed them on purpose! Unlike everyone else. Everyone who gets close to me dies… one way or another. Except you. The boy saviour always makes it.”

Jinx sits back on her spot. He should leave now: Jinx can tell that he’s scared. He should leave before she jinxes him, too. She can hear his footsteps, but they’re not getting softer. They’re getting louder.

He sits next to her. “I gave her the tip.”

Jinx looks up at him. 

“I gave her the tip, and they all went while having no idea what was actually up there. If I hadn’t they would never have found the crystals. They would never have fallen to the ground. There would never have been an explosion. If it weren’t for me, Vi would still be alive.” He sighed, it’s a heavy sigh, filled with sorrow. “Everyone tells me it’s not my fault, but there’s still a part of me that,” He pauses to take a shaky breath, “That still feels like I killed her.”

There are no tears in his eyes, but she hears them in his voice.

“It’s not the same. You couldn’t have known there'd be an explosion, it was a good tip.”

“Whatever you did to kill them, did you know it would?”

Jinx doesn’t have the strength to answer, so she just cries. Because she didn’t know. She only wanted to help. 

In between sobs, she lets out, “What about everyone else?”

“I don’t know, you’ll have to ask your Ekko.”

Going through the notes is more difficult than she thought. They don’t use big fancy words like Talys and his partner did, but the doodles, the discussion in the margins, all the little things in the pages tell her how much fun they had. He had more fun with me.

Or maybe, he only had fun with her when he thought of the other her.

Other Ekko works dutifully on the project. Seemingly unbothered by her, which still baffles her. He probably doesn’t understand what she is, and what she’s done. 

It’s better not to explain it to him. Just get back and then… 

The first night, when their stomachs start to growl, he proposes to go “home” to eat. She can’t. She refuses, and when he ducks out anyway, he comes back with food. Says he told the others they were working on a project, that they let him come back here, but are worried.

Powder doesn’t go around disappearing. Jinx hopes they finish this fast.

Working with this Ekko is not the same as working with her Ekko, but it’s close enough. There’s something about the way they bounce ideas off of each other. Like the gears inside her head turn faster. It brings her back to when they were children, when they were searching for books in trash, trying to understand mechanisms by taking gadgets apart and rebuilding them. There’s something comforting about it. But it lacks the excitement of working with her Ekko. 

She always ends up thinking of the days they spent preparing to fight the Noxians. Making her lair airborne had been a crazy idea that somehow worked. Jinx couldn’t have done it with this world’s Ekko; he wouldn’t have taken the risk. 

That’s the thing about her Ekko–he’s a daredevil. He’ll jump off an airship to reach his goal. He’d face an explosion again and again to save her. Was he always like that? Or is it just having her around that makes him as crazy as she is? 

She believed that when she pulled the pin, but now, with this Ekko, the one who has never met a Jinx before, she sees cracks. He will redraw the same schematics six times, perfectly identical, always. He will violently rip off pages of his notebook and throw it away when he realizes he‘s made a mistake. He forgets to eat. Apparently it happens when he’s focused and Powder is the one to remind him, usually. He starts breathing really fast and clutching his head one day, because he has just realized he made a mistake yesterday. 

Maybe that’s not something she screwed up, then. Maybe her Ekko was always a bit insane, too.

“It’s the power source,” she says one day, “We’re screwed.”

“What do you mean?”

“What they used were crystal shards, not a real Hex-crystal. That’s why Heimerdiger had to step out to make adjustments during the process.”

“To redirect the energy!” He exclaims before rushing toward Vi’s shrine.

“We don’t have an actual crystal, we can’t-”

Before she can finish, Ekko shows her a bag full of crystals.

“We had sworn to never use them,” he explains, “but given the circumstances, I think she’ll understand.”

She didn’t want to go back to the Last Drop. What would she do there? Talk to the other Vander, Silco, Claggor and Mylo, and pretend that she was their Powder? As if she had any idea how to be like her. She’d probably manage to kill them, too, given enough time. But then the other Ekko had told her, “why don’t you let yourself enjoy some of your time here? your me definitely did.”

They had been humour in his tone and she had no idea what he meant, but her curiosity had pushed her to take his advice. If spending time with those people had led Ekko to want to see her again, then she’d like to know what he had seen.

So now Jinx sits at a diner table with Claggor at her right, Mylo at her left and Silco and Vander across from her.  

“So what’s that project you guys are working on?” Claggor asks with excitement in his voice.

“Secret,” she answers before stuffing her mouth.

The food was rich in taste and homely, Vander must have cooked it, it tastes like something from a memory.

“Since when do you keep secrets?”

A cold chill washed over her. Coming here was a bad idea. They were going to figure out there was something wrong with her. They were going to get mad. They would be scared and confused, all shouting at her. And that’s when it’ll happen. That’s when they all die.

“I think she’s not making anything,” exclaims Mylo, snapping her attention to him “She’s just getting more alone time with her boyfriend!”

She stares at him and feels her cheeks warming. Laughter erupts around her.

“Really?” This time it’s Silco that calls her attention. “You’re about to spend the next couple of years locked with him at the academy, and yet you’d rather spend your time with him rather than with us?”

Mylo and Claggor laugh even harder and she can barely hear herself say, “I’m sorry.”

“Leave her be,” Vander comes to her rescue, “She spent more than enough time taking care of us, let her have some fun.”

She doesn’t know how to describe the look he gives her. It’s the kind of look he would give Vi. She thinks it means, ‘I’m proud of you,’ or something. Definitely not the kind of look he should be giving her.

“Seriously,” says Claggor, “it’s going to be weird not having you around all the time.”

She feels terrified. It must be visible because Claggor keeps sending worried glances over at Mylo.

“We’re grown men. It’s about time we stop holding you back and learn to take care of ourselves.”

Jinx manages to divert attention from herself for the rest of the evening. 

It’s a strange thing. One moment she’s laughing, smiling and content, the next she remembers that this is the life she could have lived, had she not fucked everything up. It’s like being built up and broken over and over again.

By the time Vander asks someone to clean the dishes she volunteers just to be alone. And yet she wants to go back to them: it hurts but it’s also so wonderful to have them alive. It almost feels worth the pain.

She doesn’t linger on this for long because Vander joins her. She’s scared of what he’s going to say but he just quietly helps her with the dishes. She’s not very good at it, mostly because she doesn’t always clean. Hell, most of the time she doesn’t even use dishes. Vander just chuckles and helps her.

“You know you don’t have to feel guilty.”

She drops a plate. It doesn’t shatter, just falls into the water with a quiet splash. 

“Joining the academy is a good thing, and if it means you have less time for your family it’s fine. We can manage on our own and we’re not going anywhere. It’s about time you use all your smarts to make something out of your life.”

Her eyes are watery, Jinx knows those words are not for her but she can’t help but reply, “What if nothing I make is good? What if I just make everything worse?”

“I’m sure you’ll figure it out,” He tells her with a smile. She feels the tears rolling down her cheeks and he quickly adds, “And if you struggle you can always turn to Ekko or your brother, or even Silco and me. I mean, we’re not geniuses but we can give good advice when it’s needed.”

She wraps her arms around him. The tears are still falling but they don’t feel like sad tears anymore.

“You’re not alone, Powder.” He says before holding her tight.

As she makes her way to her bedroom she spots Silco writing in a journal.

“Still working?” She asks.

“Yes, I’m afraid my work is never done,” he sighs heavily, “I’m going to have to leave again in a few days.”

“I’m glad you were here.”

He smiles at her, “Me too. And I’ll be back soon, don’t worry.”

“I’m gonna miss you.”

He gets up and walks toward her.

“Now, now, you’re a big girl, I’m sure you don’t need me anymore.”

She pulls him into a hug and hides her face into his shoulder. “I’m always going to need you.”

He hugs her back and says, “Please, I’ve always needed you more than you needed me. You’ll be fine.”

“Here.”

Ekko hands her a pendant, on it there’s a flower. It’s pretty, and it spins. Looking closer she can see their faces carve in the petals.

Before she can ask him anything he says, “He gave it to her, but she says she didn’t think it was meant for her.”

She stares at it again. It’s meticulous work, detailed but not excessive, his style. A small smile forces its way onto her face. Jinx puts it around her neck.

“Let’s hope it doesn’t blow up in our faces.”

First the lightning comes, like at the cannery, they all start to scream and she doesn’t know if she’s going to be able to stand it. But it’s all cut off when the sphere appears around her. She breathes in and this time, she’s ready.

The last thing she sees is the other Ekko holding the other her in his arms. He smiles up at her.

He keeps himself busy. It’s the best way to avoid falling apart. Scar tells him that they have no one to fight, and they are not alone in helping anymore, that he can take a break. Ekko begs him for a job, any job, instead.     

He needs something to do, anything. The look he, and all of the other Fireslights, gives him feels like a stab in the heart, because it’s just another reminder of what could have been.

He repairs the roof. He teaches the children how to fly a hoverboard. He helps cook dinner for everyone. He talks with Sevika about the meeting and what they could and should be doing. He tries to come up with a new and more efficient energy storage device.

It helps, but never for long. Because, they sat on that roof the first night she spent at the hideout. Because, one of the children has dyed his hair blue and swears he's going to be just like her one day. Because, they cooked together the night before the battle. Because, Sevika has to say that she was easier to deal with than the Council. Because, working on anything reminds him of the time they spent transforming her lair.

The nights are the worst, when nothing can distract him from his grief. It’s the third time. It should be easier by now. But it’s worse. It’s so much worse. This time he’s not just grieving what was, he’s grieving what could have been.

After having seen the other universe. After having convinced her to drop the bomb and step off the ledge. After rallying the under-city together. After fighting side by side. He had hope that they would get a future together.

He knew things would never be as they were. That they would never be like the other Ekko and Powder. But he thought that they could build something new. 

Maybe Jinx would have stayed with the Firelight, she had liked it there during the few days before the battle. It might have taken her some time. They could have worked on projects together. That had come to them just as naturally as it had before. Eventually, she would have started to play with the children. That would have won over the few Firelights that were still wary of her. They would have visited Vi together, if only to remind her that she was a Zaunite and always would be. She would have spent a lot of time with Sevika, much to the Council’s annoyance. 

She would have cooked weird things and forced him to try them. He would have fought her, but ultimately conceded, always. He would have taken her flying on his hoverboard, far above Zaun, even higher than the Hex-gate. She would have modified the overboard, in a seemingly superfluous and random way, but a surprisingly useful one. They would have fought about that, and about her idea of games appropriate for children, and about the priorities for the Firelights, and what music to play during the day, and the right flavour of pancakes. They would have laughed, too. About her hair, his clothes, Sevika, Scar, and about the Pilties. They would have spent nights awake making fun of Pilties. 

And on one of those nights he would have looked into her eyes. She would have looked back confused. He would have leaned toward her. She would have frozen at first, but then she would have closed her eyes and leaned back.

But none of that would ever happen. Instead, he would remember all the time they played as children. All the time they fought as teens. Eventually the childhood memories would fade and the only moments left would be those last few days. 

Three days, that’s all he had been given. Three days they spent arguing with the rest of undercity, and trying desperately to build everything on time. They barely had any moments alone together. They never even got to paint together. They transformed her hideout while shouting orders at everyone else. They only got to laugh when painting each other. He only got to hold her twice. Once right after she stepped away from the ledge. And again right before the battle. He only held her hand once, when he brought her to their sanctuary.

He got to kiss her once and it wasn’t even her.

Sometimes he thinks about what it would have been like to kiss his Jinx. It would have been more wild, he thinks, probably with more teeth. It makes him chuckle. Then the hurt comes back, because he doesn’t know, and he never will.

He never told Vi. He can’t. He doesn’t want to burden her with the knowledge of the happiness they could have had. He doesn’t want her to know that their world would have been better if she had died. He hates himself for thinking it, but he knows that, for him at least, it’s true. And he fears it would break her in a way even Caitlyn can’t fix.

He builds her a shrine, like Powder had for Vi. He prays and talks to her, like they had over there. He tells her about his day. About what Vi is up to. He tells her about the changes in Zaun. He tells her he wishes she was here. And some nights, when the pain is too great he begs her to come back. To pull another miracle. You’ve done twice already, why not a third?

He has a lot to tell her today. For starters, mister I’ll-be-just-like-Jinx-one-day thought it would be a great idea to try and jump off his hoverboard mid-flight. He broke his leg. Ekko tried to lecture him. He got too angry, though, and almost yelled at the poor kid. Thankfully Scar took him away quickly. He hates that he lost control like this, especially in front of a child. He barely had time to apologise to the kid before he was informed that Sevika was looking for him. 

Ekko knew that was bad news before he even reached her: Sevika only ever wants to see him when things go to shit. Turns out the Council thinks the factories need to reach their pre-war quotas before the end of the month. How they’re supposed to do that when half of their population is still wounded and recovering, he has no idea. She wants the Firelights to help her make a show of force in front of the Council, to remind them that the undercity is a united front. 

And there’s another problem: A few days ago, the Jinxers put on a little homage to Jinx, to celebrate her sacrifice. Ekko didn’t go. He didn’t want to see what a group of people who never knew her would do. Apparently they just threw a bunch of paint explosives around town, landmarks associated with Jinx, including the building she blew up on Progress Day and the Council chambers. 

Needless to say, the Council are not happy about that. As far as they are concerned this is “in very bad taste” and all those involved “need to be disciplined.” The little dictator that put Noxus on their doorstep can go home scott-free, but a bunch of kids throw paints on their precious building and suddenly there’s a need for discipline. Some things never change. 

After an entire evening locked with Sevika, Babette and her other “advisors” to try to find a solution, he returns home, skips dinner and goes straight to his quarters. 

He wants to go to her, pretend she can hear him, imagine her thoughts, her voice. Give himself whatever comfort she can give him. And collapse on his bed feeling a little bit less shitty about everything.

He pushes the door open and there’s someone before his shrine. She has her back turned to him, all he can see is a cloth wrapped around her skinny frame and short blue air, when she turns around his heart stops.

He thinks he is dreaming. She can’t be standing in front of him. But she’s here. She looks real. Like he had last seen her. His eyes run across her, trying to find a trick, hoping to find a confirmation. That’s when he sees the necklace.

She notices and touches it, “He said she thought you made it for me.”

His breath shakes and he throws his arms around her, his tears run down the crook of her neck. He feels her arms coming around him, Jinx clings to him, just like he’s clinging to her.

He doesn’t know how long they stay like that. He is scared that if he lets go she’ll vanish.

Finally, with her voice shaking she asks, “Can I stay here, at least for while?”

Ekko sobs as he says, “Please don’t leave, not again.”

AN: I hope you enjoyed reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it, writing Jinx pov is difficult I hope I got it right. Writing the alternate universe is also fun, Silco and alt-Silco are two very different people...

[flyingwargle]

bokuto is hangry and it's entirely his fault.

first, he snoozed his alarm once too many times this morning. second, he forgot to pack his gym bag the night before, so he had to scramble for his clothes and kneepads. third, he ran out of his apartment without the bento box on the dining table and his jacket on the chair.

whenever this happens, he'd run to the convenience store just outside the gym, but there's no time today since the team has a photoshoot for the upcoming season in the afternoon. he can grab a spare team jacket from the closet, but lunch? meian told them repeatedly to be prepared, and all bokuto has are a few protein bars in his locker.

maybe he can sneak a few bites from the others. hinata is always willing to share but the rest guard their food with a ferocity usually reserved for the court, or at the bar. well, maybe if he can distract atsumu then he could sneak a few bites...

just thinking about it makes him hungrier. bokuto slams his hand against the ball, watches his serve drive into the net and falls with a bounce. he groans, hands in his hair. hinata tosses him another. "don't mind, bokuto-san!"

"something on your mind, bokuto?" meian calls out from the sidelines. "that's your third missed serve today." his tone is sharp, and for a moment, he feels like he's back in high school, berated by akaashi, who always seems to keep track of his misses.

"sorry, captain. i forgot to pack lunch, and it's been bothering me." as the words leave him, he feels his stomach grumble. a banana for breakfast is definitely not enough before practice.

meian frowns, a lecture at the tip of his tongue before he swallows it. "well, no point for you to keep practicing if you don't have the energy. go get something to eat at the convenience store."

"i'll be okay!" bokuto insists. "i have some snacks and stuff in my locker-"

"not hearing it. we have a long day and if you're hangry, it'll ruin the mood. don't tell me you forgot your wallet too."

"uh."

hinata bounces to his side. "i made extra food today, bokuto-san! i don't mind sharing."

"hinata," bokuto says with a dramatic pout, "when did you become so reliable?"

"it's just you that isn't," sakusa deadpans from the other side of the court. atsumu barks a laugh.

meian just shakes his head. "either way, you need food. i'll give you fifteen minutes to run out and get something, or else-"

"i can help with that."

the voice is shy yet firm. bokuto raises his head, grin widening at the figure standing at the gym's doorway. "keiji!"

his boyfriend gives a timid wave, other hand holding the familiar bento cloth with an owl pattern. bokuto jogs over to greet him. "i thought you wouldn't be here until tonight!"

"i wanted to surprise you by having dinner ready when you get home,” akaashi explains, “but when i stopped by the apartment, i saw you left your bento and jacket. i thought you might need them.”

that's when bokuto really looks at him, notices his jacket hanging on akaashi's shoulders, sleeves bunched up at his wrists. this isn't the first time he'd worn it, but every time he does, bokuto gets overwhelmed by a flood of affection. "keiji, you're the best!"

"hi, akaashi-san!" hinata and the others gather, accustomed to akaashi's regular appearances. "you really saved bokuto-san!"

"yes, i know he can get irritable when he's hungry, so i packed extra snacks." akaashi holds the bento up to him, then shrugs the jacket off for him. he pivots, about to leave. "i'll see you tonight, kou."

"thanks, babe. love you." bokuto steps forward and leans over to kiss his cheek, grinning at how akaashi blushes. behind him, he hears atsumu pretend to gag.

as he waves at akaashi, he hears meian behind him. “bokuto.” his captain’s normally severe expression is soft, as it always is, whenever one of their significant others come to visit. “you better treat your man to something nice later.”

bokuto unwraps the cloth, sees several small packs of crackers and energy jelly, along with a handwritten note. good luck. i love you. "always, captain," he says with a smile. "always."

[strandnreyes]

10 and 29, for the AO3 wrapped, please! 💕

10. What was the quickest to write?

leave the light on, my 5x01 coda!

29. Favorite line/passage you wrote this year?

this question is so impossible so naturally i'm going to give a couple of answers that come to mind

from never quite buried

“I can’t… I can’t sit here and pretend like I’m not going to lose you.” TK looks off to the side and blinks rapidly before piercing Carlos’ with his teary watercolor eyes. “Forever. It was supposed to be forever,” he pleads, like he’s not even speaking to Carlos. The way his voice breaks repeatedly tears Carlos’ heart in half though. Carlos gives him a sad smile as he stares at the love of his life. His soulmate, his best friend, the man who showed him a world he didn’t know he could have. TK changed his life in so many ways and from that very first day that Carlos saw him in the driveway of this very house, he knew he’d never be the same. They’ve lived a beautiful life together. Carlos doesn’t regret any minute of it. “A hundred years is a long time, baby.” TK becomes paralyzed with fear. “Don’t.” “Tyler—” TK shakes his head sharply. “Do not act like a hundred years is all we get. I can’t, Carlos. If you die, I will not be able to….” “Sweetheart,” Carlos whispers, holding out his hand. TK doesn’t take it. He stands at the foot of the bed looking like a child, miserable and alone and panicked. “I can’t lose you, Carlos. I can’t do this alone. Please. Please, I don’t want to do this alone. I’ve never wanted to do this alone.” He chokes out a sob, folding in on himself as the cries wrack his body.

from save a horse, ride a cowboy

“I married my best friend because I thought it was the only choice. Now, I get to marry my best friend again. And it’s not out of fear or pressure… it’s just so much love.” TK squeezes his eyes shut and surges forward, claiming Carlos’ mouth again. He lets out a surprised ‘umph’ that quickly turns to a satisfied hum. “Love you,” TK murmurs between kisses. “You’re my favorite person.” In a crowd of people, it’s always Carlos he wants by his side. Carlos he wants to sit next to at a game night with their friends. Carlos he wants to tell everything to first. Carlos he wants when he’s feeling his lowest. Carlos is the center of his universe, and being around him always makes everything feel better. He makes TK laugh and he listens to TK and he knows what TK needs even before TK does sometimes. He’s sexy and adorable and imperfect and TK gets him all to himself.

from sacred new beginnings:

TK’s whole face lights up, his grin spreading from cheek to cheek as he laughs in utter joy. He pushes himself around the breakfast bar and rushes towards Carlos. Carlos has about three seconds of preparation before he has all of TK’s weight in his arms. He stumbles back a step as he secures one arm around the back of TK’s thighs and the other around his back. TK knows Carlos can’t maintain this position for long, but he savors the moment. He has his whole world in his arms and TK laughs against his neck, holding back tighter. “Are you happy?” Carlos murmurs. TK’s legs slip back to the floor and his hands press firmly into Carlos’ cheeks, squeezing just a little. “Baby,” he whispers. Tears threaten to fall and he struggles with how to answer as he stares into Carlos’ equally watery eyes. When he can’t find the words, he brings his forehead to Carlos’. They rest there for a moment until TK tilts his head, presses his nose into his cheek, and kisses him firmly. “You, Carlos Reyes,” TK says with a tap to his cheek, “make me the happiest man in the world.”

[defilerwyrm]

Oh, Alcohol.

Barenaked Ladies saved me from a life (and possibly death) as an alcoholic.

Let me explain:

My first official, tax-paying job as as a mutuel teller at a horse track in the mid aughts. I worked for $8.15/hour most of the year and during live season (when races were taking place at my track) they bumped it up to $8.50. During live race nights, I could easily pull in $100 in tips in a night.

You would have thought that a nearly-homeless college dropout trapped in a relationship he didn’t yet fully realize was extremely abusive would have squirreled that away to make a better life for himself, but no. My coworkers (including The Ex From Hell) liked to go drinking at the restaurant/bar across the highway from the track after live race nights—twice a week—and I, being starved for company and having TEFH as my only ride home, went with them.

It was always a jolly old time. I drank so many mudslides & flying grasshoppers and ate so many mozzarella sticks you wouldn’t believe. My regular bartender and I (and that phrase should set off alarm bells in your head already) developed a new drink! It’s still one of my favorites. Here, let me share it with you:

AQUA VELVET 2 parts blue curaçao 2 parts Midori (melon liqueur) 1 part pineapple juice spritz of Sprite Shake with ice, strain, serve cold in a hurricane glass.

Fucking incredible drink.

But yeah. I drank pretty heavily every night we went out. Drank until I got loose and loopy and extremely homosexual. Drank until I didn’t care about the dysphoria I was trying to ignore and the mental illness & traumas I couldn’t afford to get help for. Until, for just a few hours, I was happy.

And then one night as “Closing Time” by Semisonic played on the speaker system and I received my solo bill, I really looked at it and realized I’d spent literally all of my tip money for that day’s work. I spent over $100 on alcohol in one sitting—in 2007 or 2008 money, on an $8.50/hour wage. Moreover, I’d drank over a hundred dollars worth of booze specifically for the goal of getting drunk and staying that way.

As a sidebar, one of the many things wrong with me is moderate/severe OCD. My most intrusive symptom is endomusia—music stuck in my head…every…waking…moment. As in, I can tell when I’ve woken up because that’s when the music starts. (In a fascinating twist, my father and brother both suffer this, too.) Any little thing that I see or hear or think about could set off a new song playing on repeat in my head.

And in that moment, looking at that staggering total on my receipt for the night, I heard Barenaked Ladies jamming their way through a syncopated bridge:

I thought that drinking just to get drunk was a waste of precious booze

Had it not been for that song, I would not have known that drinking to get drunk on a regular basis was a classic sign of alcoholism. But because I knew and loved that song, and because I had that moment of crystalline clarity at something like one in the morning, I realized that I had a fucking problem and I needed to stop.

I am immeasurably lucky that I came to this realization before my alcoholism developed into an actual dependency instead just of a deeply stupid bad habit I did for fun twice a week. I don’t take for granted that it could have been the end of me if not for that single moment. As much horrific shit as has happened to me in my life, holy fuck have I ever gotten some lucky breaks.

I don’t drink much nowadays, and haven’t for almost a decade. I don’t really like how it makes me feel most of the time. I just finished a top shelf margarita before writing this, in the safety of my own home, and it’s—I think the second alcoholic drink I’ve had this year.

So yeah. Music saves lives, y’all.

[berrypass-de-murdler]

2 - 83 Murder at the Guillotine

Murdle Advent Day 4

Signor Emerald is excellent at tree decoration, no matter how tall. But he will not give up any of his gems to the public eye!

My GOD this episode is late 😭

DON'T READ THE EPISODES WITHOUT READING THE BOOKS!!

Logico doesn’t bother to sleep. He runs straight to the public guillotine. Although it’s not quite a guillotine. A flat board with limb restraints and a blade hanging above… it looks more like they’re planning to cut the goat in half. The first thing he hears is Superfan Smoky’s horrible child voice shouting

SMOKY: Look, a MURDER! 

Logico screams. They can’t have done it early. He runs as fast as his no legs will carry him, falling on the ground behind the suspects. 

R. CRIMSON: Oh. YOU got here.

She was planning on gleefully watching Irratino’s demise, even though Logico helped save her in the last episode. Judge Pine and Hero Taupe are also there. 

LOGICO: WHERE IS HE?  R. CRIMSON: Wouldn’t you like to know.

Logico karate-chops her leg and grabs her by the throat.

LOGICO: WHERE IS HE. R. CRIMSON: HE’S STILL IN PRISON!!!

The murder was of the person who was going to kill Irratino. Whoever did this murder is a hero, without question. Logico’s relief is overwhelming. But he still has to solve the murder, even if he was for it.

LOGICO: Why are you here? SMOKY: My dad said he’s always wanted to see a live execution! He’s not here, but I can still be! 

Rad twirls around a hammer and sickle.

R. CRIMSON: I wanted to see if the kill guy would let me bash a few brains. But he can’t, because apparently he’s DEAD!!!

Taupe runs over and flops into Logico, attempting to give an armless hug. 

LOGICO: I know, my friend. I will not let them get to Irratino. No matter what. [pats its knee]

Smoky has disappeared, and is up in the guard tower. 

SMOKY: This place has so many vampires and princesses, I’ll be a great fit! I’M GONNA RULE ALL OF DRAKONIA! Hey… Drakonia sounds like Dragon!

Rad runs up there and SHOVES HIM OFF THE EDGE! Thank GOD Smoky can manage to fly with those pathetic tiny wings of his.

R. CRIMSON: You think I’ll let a child take over MY country? Well I would! If they weren’t RIGHT-WING!! I’ll keep a fist locked DEAD into this land with my TWO LEFT HANDS!

Logico takes a second look. She really does have two left hands. How did he not notice this until now? No, NO! There’s more important things to do. Why hasn’t Pine said anything? Logico sees her by the machine, holding a taser and shaking.

LOGICO: P- PINE: Logico I… I can’t go on with this. This isn’t justice. Even if I don’t decide what justice is, this ain’t it. I need to break this machine down for good.

Logico nods. For once, he is seeing good coming from others.

PINE: [quietly] I’m gonna live forever. LOGICO: …That too. Sure.

Irratino, in his cage, can feel Logico nearby. He jumps and flails, climbing the bars and hitting his head on the ceiling. He’s so close to being free!

Logico discovers that the killer of the killer was Taupe. Taupe saved Irratino’s life!

TAUPE: ………… <3 R. CRIMSON: YOU did this? You’re one of the ROYALS?! LOGICO: How does saving Irratino make him one of the Royals??

A plethora of Red supporters run out of the crowd and start beating down the big-hearted statue. Logico can’t bear to see it.

LOGICO: STOP!!! TAUPE: [weakly] --. ---

Logico’s eye wells up with gratitude, and he runs into the jail, tearing the bars off the wall with his bare hands.

IRRATINO: What the fuck! Logico! We’re free! I’m free!  LOGICO: Come on, we don’t have much time!

The two duck behind a building.

IRRATINO: Where are we gonna go? Can we go to the mansion? LOGICO: Wait. 

A newspaper on the ground has suspicious info about the Violet Isles. But that’s where everything began!!

The end!

wawawawa this is so late i had shit i had to do vjdnfgkbjdfgbn

The power of Goat Lord compels you!

See you next time murdlers!

[frenchfrywrites]

Kinktober Day 7

Hybrid

MINORS DNI

warnings: gn amab dom (implied top) reader, sub (implied bottom) dog hybrid Beelzebub, hybrids, handjob, emetophilia, master kink

The sight of an unwrapped and half-eaten chocolate bar on your dinner table sends panic through your veins.

"Beelzebub!" You cry, knowing that the treat will make him sick as a dog.

A weak call of your name comes from the bathroom, and you sigh, rushing to him.

You find Beel hovering over the toilet, his ears pressed flat against his head, his tail between his legs. He turns to face you, looking undeniably miserable.

“Oh baby,” you coo, kneeling by his side. Beelzebub turns back to the toilet, gagging, but nothing comes up. You start by petting his head gently, but your hands soon travel under his shirt to rub at his upset stomach.

Beel whimpers at even the lightest touches, gripping the edge of the toilet so hard his knuckles turn white.

"You knew it'd make you sick," you point out, "why'd you eat it?" Beel groans.

"Smelled n’ tasted good," he tells you honestly. You laugh lightly, amused by the way he indulges each desire, even while knowing the consequences.

"Yeah, I bet it did," you lean in and kiss the back of his clammy neck. He shivers under your lips.

When you pull back he dry heaves, groaning again when nothing comes up.

"My poor puppy," you coo, if only a bit patronizing. You've done this routine before. Beel cannot help himself when it comes to chocolate. At this point you may as well not bring it into the house at all. Or if you do, you ought to lock it up. Somehow though, you feel he'd gain access to it, for his love for the sweet flavor is nearly unparalleled.

"Master," he moans, then heaves again. You feel his stomach flex and churn under your hand, but he's unable to get anything to come up.

"Have you been able to get anything out?" Beel shakes his head at your question.

He promptly dry heaves again, and lets out a soft wail of frustration. You make an apologetic sound, pursing your lips.

"Help me," he begs, sounding so weak and small it breaks your heart.

"Okay puppy," you say immediately, because of course you will. It takes you a moment to come up with an idea to help relieve his pain.

"Open your mouth for me," you tell him once you're hit with an idea. He does as he's told, dropping his jaw. One of your hands comes up to his mouth, and carefully, as you've done many times before in a very different context, your fingers slip between his pretty lips and dangerous maw. His teeth capture your attention, all sharp and shining white.

Part of you wants to play with his soft tongue, but you know you can save an activity like that for when he's not actively in pain. Instead, you keep pressing your fingers in until you hit the back of his throat, activating his gag reflex.

Swiftly, you remove your hand, and not a moment too soon, as the next second has Beel properly throwing up. You coo softly as the substance hurting him finally leaves his body.

Beel is a big man, with a bigger appetite, and you remember this as you watch him vomit over and over again to truly empty his stomach. It's hard for him to stop once he's started. You feel each flex of his stomach under your palm, and a strange excitement settles within you at the sensation.

You hold him through it, kissing behind his furry orange ears, down his neck, rubbing his back and stomach gently.

“Doing such a good job, good boy,” you praise, happy that he’s finally able to get it all out. Between his throws of vomiting Beel moans, and you can’t tell if it’s from the relief or your praise. “Good boy,” you coo, over and over.

After what feels like forever, he's finally he's back to dry heaving, and then he pulls his head back.

Going limp, Beel slumps against your body, cuddling into you.

You reach over, and flush the toilet, effectively vanishing any evidence that he’d eaten the chocolate in the first place (except of course, the chocolate itself, still on your table with a comically large bite mark taken out of it).

"Master," he gasps weakly, knocking his head into your shoulder "make me feel good, please." He begs sweetly.

Humming softly, you reaching below the waistband of his pants to take his heavy cock into your hand. Beel groans, slowly jerking his hips up into your touch, his tail starting to wag.

"Like this, pup?" You ask softly, jerking him slowly. It doesn't take him long at all to get hard in your palm.

"Yes," he gasps, clutching onto your shirt weakly.

He’s sweaty, flushed, and you’re certain his mouth is acidic with leftover bile, yet he looks so beautiful clinging to you.

"You look like you're close already," you muse, using his bubbling precum to better jerk him off. "My sweet puppy, you got so horny from being sick?" you tease. Beel lets out a particularly pathetic whine, nuzzling into your chest, effectively hiding his face from you.

"Sorry," he whispers, and you can't be having that.

"It's okay pup, I'm just happy you got it all out. I want you to feel good baby. You gonna cum soon?" Beel nods, his tail wagging happily. "Go aheady, puppy," he twitches in your hand, "cum for me."

It takes a moment longer, but he does cum, soiling your hand and clothing as he humps your fist erratically. "Good boy," you say as you kiss his head, right between his ears, "such a good boy."

Beel moans, all low and deep and nearly a growl, at your praise, shooting thick globs of cum out of his sensitive cock. His climax is short lived, and soon he's cuddling into your arms, trying his best to catch his breath. Your cock strains against your pants.

"My sweet puppy," you scratch behind his ear with the hand that is not dirty with cum. "Can I fuck you baby?" you ask sweetly. Beel moans softly.

"Please, master, want it, want you."

[chronosdawn]

Kaeya x GN!Reader drabble, Modern AU

Content warnings: Alcohol consumption, reader is depicted as wearing makeup but that's the only descriptor.

The music in the dingy little club on the far side of town is always headache-inducingly loud. A thrumming bass that vibrates through the dancefloor, echoing in the chests of the intoxicated patrons moving their bodies in time to the beat.

Kaeya allows his eyes to wander over the sea of swaying torsos and limbs, condensation from the glass of overpriced alcohol in his hand running over his fingers. As is often the case in recent days, he finds his gaze drawn to you, standing exactly where he'd left you, dancing in a way you only did several drinks in and would undoubtedly recall with embarrassment tomorrow. 

This place is never Kaeya's first choice for a night out, but you somehow manage to sway him every time.

“So it always smells of BO and that artificial smoke they like to use on the weekends,” you'd said a couple of drinks earlier, clinging to his arm in a way you probably thought nothing of but would linger in his mind for days, the numbing effect of the alcohol on his tongue be damned. “The music’s the best and besides, it’s kind of like our place at this point, you know?”

Okay, perhaps Kaeya knows exactly how you manage to keep convincing him to come back to this dive. He’s no longer sure of the time, had stopped caring after his third Death After Noon. It would be easy enough to reach into his pocket for his smartphone to check how many hours he has left before he has to be up again for work in the morning, but he doesn’t want to—not just yet. It’d ruin the magic of this place, shabby as it is—of watching you dance like nothing matters beyond the walls of the club. It’s a pleasant thought, even if it is a foolish one, one he wouldn’t dare to entertain again come morning. 

You catch sight of him from where he’s leaning against the bar, gazes meeting, and you might as well be the only other person in the room despite the swaying throng. The glitter that had once been on your eyelids has somehow managed to smear its way onto your cheek, shimmering in the flashing blue and pink lights. Come on, you mouth at him from across the room, a hand beckoning him closer. 

He shakes his head at you, gesturing to the full drink in his hand. You stick your tongue out at him in response, the same little song and dance you always do and he feels his lips curl into a smirk. Weaving through the mass of bodies in the space, you make your way over to him, your foot catching slightly on the step up to the bar and he slips an arm around your waist to steady you before he can stop to think about it—like it’s little more than instinct.

“Thanks for the save there,” you say, almost having to shout to be heard over the music, leaning more of your body weight into him rather than stepping away. Kaeya finds he’s grateful for the pounding bass, for the excuse it gives him to watch your lips closely as you speak. “I swear I’ll get you to dance with me one of these days.”

“Ha, I don’t doubt you’ll keep trying, but I wouldn’t want to ruin your evening by stepping on your toes, sweetheart.”

“Flirt,” you accuse with a light slap to his chest. He only smiles at you roguishly in response, because he knows it’s exactly what you expect from him. You stare at him for just a little too long, the dim light of the club casting your features in shadows that make you difficult to read. For just a fraction of a second—not even a full heartbeat—Kaeya feels a cold trickle of fear run down his spine, that this is the time you finally see the mask for what it is. But then you pitch forwards, dropping your head onto his shoulder, your breath fanning over the skin exposed by his partially unbuttoned shirt. “I think I’m starting to crash, but I don’t want to go home just yet.”

“Oh, and why might that be?” He trails his fingers lightly over the curve of your waist absently, trying to keep the relief from his voice.

“Ugh, you know. Home means sleep, but it also means getting up tomorrow which I really don’t want to do.” You put more of your weight on him, until he’s the only thing keeping you upright.

“I’m sure,” Kaeya says, a teasing lilt to his voice, “but if I might be so bold as to remind you, you were the one who wanted to come out tonight. I’m the poor innocent you dragged into your plans.”

“Innocent, you? Never, you’re too much of a scoundrel for that.”

“A scoundrel? You know,” his voice drops into something low and smooth as silk, “that’s quite an accusation against someone you’re putting so much trust in right now. What would you do if I decided I wanted to make a little mischief?”

“Mhhm, too tired for mischief, maybe tomorrow.” The sound of your voice is muffled against his shoulder, barely audible over the still thumping music.

“Oh, is that a promise?” 

“Sure, as much mischief as you like.” 

Kaeya’s glad you can’t see his face like this, that he doesn’t have to worry you might glimpse something you shouldn’t as he turns his head towards you, lips brushing against your hair as he says, “don’t make promises you can’t keep, sweetheart.”

A/N: Just a short little piece based on a scene I couldn't quite get out of my head.

[sunshineacd]

wip wednesday

tagged by @rmd-writes thank you so much, lovely!! <3

this is a new one that I've been thinking about (because why focus on the ones we have when we can start another askshfjk)

"Someone is renting the cursed apartment?" Paul asks as he slips through the door and into Carlos' apartment. He turns to glance out into the hallway and closes the door at an alarmingly slow pace.

Carlos rolls his eyes at his antics. "Would you stop it? It's not cursed."

Paul finally latches the door and turns to glance at him, eyebrow raised. "Oh, sure, an apartment that has had over three tenants in the last year. Not cursed at all."

"People don't stick around," Carlos reasons, shrugging a shoulder. "It's not the apartment's fault."

"Sure, not at all." Paul says sarcastically, and he crosses the small space to sit on one of the bar stools at Carlos' Island. "So, have you met them?"

"His name is TK. He just moved here from New York." Carlos relays the information that he was told earlier that morning during his first meeting with TK. "That's all I know."

Paul nods along. "Well, hopefully, he's quieter than the last guy that was in there. How many noise complaints did that dude rack up by the time he left?"

Carlos would never forget that guy. He had lost so much sleep over the loud music he played while he partied the night away with his friends.

"Far too many to count at this point."

Paul chuckles, shaking his head, and he grabs one of the chips from the bowl Carlos had put out. There's a knock at the door, and Carlos lays the knife he's using onto the counter before he crosses to answer it.

TK stands on the other side, and Carlos has to try to keep his composure once again at the sight of him. He also has to withhold slamming the door in TK's face so he can panic for a few seconds before calmly opening it again.

"I'm so sorry to bother you," TK says, and the fact that it's a sincere apology baffles Carlos. He thinks that TK could never be a bother. "Did you happen to know somewhere good to eat? I tried searching it, but all the reviews are hit or miss. So, I thought maybe getting a local opinion would be better."

Every thought escapes Carlos at that very moment. Every place he's ever eaten in all of Austin disappears, and he forgets everything.

"I — uh — you —" Carlos stutters, trying to figure out how to get words to come out of his mouth, but it doesn't work. Carlos laughs nervously, trying to calm himself down. TK just keeps a kind smile, even though he's probably thinking Carlos sounds and looks absolutely crazy. "What —"

"Oh, good lord." He hears Paul mumble as he appears next to him. "Hey, TK, right? I'm Paul, Carlos' best friend. Welcome to the building and to Austin."

TK's eyes move from Carlos to Paul, and Carlos has to literally blow out a breath. "It's nice to meet you, Paul, and thank you."

"Carlos here is having some friends over later, and we play Catan. Carlos makes some great food, probably some of the best in Austin. So, if you want to stop by later, then you are more than welcome to. It'll help you to get to know some people around here."

TK's smile grows, and his gaze finds Carlos again. The panic begins to rise again. Honestly, he had no idea what the hell was wrong with him. He's usually pretty cool under pressure, but TK is proving to make that difficult for him.

"Is that okay with you?" TK asks.

Carlos feels the jolt as Paul elbows him gently in the ribs, and he tries his best not to react. "Yes, it is. Definitely. I wouldn't mind at all. I — I am going to stop talking."

TK chuckles, his nose scrunching adorably, and the sound nearly turns Carlos to a puddle.

"Alright, deal. I'll see you guys later, thank you."

When Carlos finally shuts the door and lets out a deep breath, he turns to glare at Paul.

"Oh no, don't give me that look, I had to save you from yourself. You looked like you were going to spontaneously combust."

"I was doing just fine." Carlos argues as he picks back up his knife. Paul snorts and mumbles what Carlos knows is a sarcastic comment. But, his mind is far too occupied with the memory of TK's smile to make any attempt at a retort.

I'm getting to this a bit late so I'm not sure who has been tagged but I'll tag @reyescarlos @marjansmarwani and @welcometololaland and anyone else who would like to <3

[bellatrixobsessed1]

Skin & Scale (Part 18)

"You're lying!" Zuko accuses.

Ozai chuckles. "Is it so hard to believe that your mother is capable of horrible things. She rather readily killed your grandfather."

"You coerced her!" 

"Did I coerce her into hating your sister?”

“You tricked her into giving up part of her soul!”

“I didn’t trick her.” He shrugs. “I wasn’t given as many details as I had thought. The result was disappointing. Your mother did it wrong, she was selfish. Just a little sliver of a soul isn’t enough to make a real human with real emotions.”

Zuko grits his teeth. “That’s not true!” The word true rebounds off of the walls, carrying down the long hall of cells, drifting between bars. 

“Which part?” Ozai smirks. 

“Mother is not selfish and Azula has emotions.” He has seen most of them by now. And he has seen them raw enough to know that even if she hadn’t had a full range when she’d first hatched, she’d certainly acquired them. The fear, the sadness, the anger and the shame. And he has seen relief, affection, little touches of humor and sprinkles of joy when she is brave enough to express those. 

“Mother cared about Azula. She loved her.”

Ozai shakes his head. “Maybe for a few moments.” He admits. “At least until Azula took a part of her. She always resented Azula for that. She resented me. And she hated spirits beyond anything else.” 

“Where did she go?” He asks again as though that will implant the knowledge within Ozai to pass to him. 

“After murdering your grandfather she vowed to go looking for the dragons to remedy her great mistake. They probably killed her. I told her to stay well away.” Ozai shrugs. “She never liked to listen. She was always foolishly determined.” He stretches a leg out, the chain hooked to the shackle around his ankle rattles. “She wanted to take Azula but I wouldn’t let her. Azula is mine.” 

“I thought that you said that she didn’t care about…”

“Oh it wasn’t about saving Azula or reuniting her with her parents. It was about getting that piece of her soul back. But that’s the thing, the minute you kill another creature, wretched or not, a part of you dwindles. Why do you think that there are so many non-benders in the Fire Nation? Why do you think that the amount of benders across all nations has declined since the war began?” He shrugs. “Your mother hated that child with all of what was left of her soul. And that fragment of her soul isn’t enough to make a creature worth loving.” 

Zuko balls his fists. “You think that dragons don’t have souls of their own!?”

Ozai sighs. “If I wanted to talk to an Air Monk I would have visited one of the Air Temples and picked my favorite skull.”

Zuko’s lip twitches. A vein in his head throbs.

Even here. Even shackled, dirty, and dishonored. Even being looked down upon, the man can still enrage him so skillfully and thoroughly. “You think that dragons don’t have emotions!?”

“They don’t have emotional intelligence.” He waves his hand. “Can you look me in the eyes and say that you think your sister understands? Even my brother saw the emptiness there. She was born from death and blood. It’s in her nature.” 

Zuko swallows. 

For a second he almost believes. For a moment he remembers the cruelty. The coldness. The feeling that she had been born to destroy and hurt him. How she had always seemed to laugh at his torment. And it makes sense; she was born from suffering and she developed a taste for it. 

He remembers too that hatred had been fed to her where mother’s love had been withheld. 

But he remembers the first time she’d lost a tooth. How the facade crumbled and suddenly he was big brother Zuzu who she needed hugs from and reassurance. He remembers poking at snails and slugs in the palace garden and the crinkling of her nose when she came upon a worm instead. How they had clung to one another when a snake came slithering out from behind a rock. 

He remembers how her face would light up when grandmother sent a box of mochi. 

He remembers that she loves cherry and can’t stand lemon–not exactly because of the flavor itself but because of the faces that they have her making, the ones that she finds improper and embarrassing. The ones that Sokka likes to make fun of her for when he sneaks a lemon slice into her food bowl.

He remembers the banter that they have had recently.

He remembers her recent dread over the thought of losing her humanity. 

He remembers how much she seemed to relish in curling up by Ran and Shaw. By her parents.

These things that are so inherently human.

And these things that aren’t limited exclusively to humans.

“If that’s true, then why didn’t anyone notice that she wasn’t fully human?”

Ozai quirks a brow. “You mean to tell me that you never implied that you thought that there was something wrong with her? I know what you thought of her.”

Zuko swallows. “She never hated me until you started saying things. You made her a monster.” 

“It wasn’t difficult. It is in her nature.” He says again.

“It’s not! The dragons can love. They loved her enough to threaten the whole Fire Nation. They are emotionally intelligent. You aren’t and you tried to take that from her.” 

“And it worked.” 

Maybe for a while it had. Maybe Azula had danced with sinister apathy. Had set a foot onto the hateful path Ozai has been traversing for decades. Maybe she hadn’t entirely grasped what it meant to empathize. But he couldn’t have taken that away from her. 

He had seen it in her eyes after the spirit incident. 

She knows what it’s like to be a human.

She is a human.

And a dragon. 

At this point he thinks that she is more human than she will ever be dragon. 

And he isn’t sure if that is a good thing. 

For the first time, he thinks to worry that the dragons might get sick of her human habits and mannerisms. Get frustrated with how well she had adapted to the form she wasn’t supposed to have. 

“No. It didn’t work.” Zuko growls. 

However Azula was born or hatched, it has nothing to do with her and everything to do with humans who stole her for their own gain or out of fear. 

Whatever might be intrinsic to the manner of her birth or hatching, whatever her natural inclinations were supposed to be, Azula grew up to be Azula. Azula with her thoughts and her emotions and a developing sense of showing affection. 

The sort that she would have had from the beginning had she been left with her birth parents who could have nurtured her.

“I’m going to find mother.” He tells Ozai. 

“For what?” 

“Because I love her. And because I need to hear this story from her.” 

Ozai chuckles. “You mean that mine isn’t good enough? You want the coddled version so that you can assure Azula that she’s not a monster.” He clicks his tongue. “Believe it or not, if you find her, you’ll hear the same story. She’ll spare you the details but she will tell you the same thing.”

[fratsweetie]

this was the new york city weekend:

cold and bright on friday and i overslept on account of waking up next to the man i love and cherishing the feeling as if it has not happened hundreds of times before and over lunch i went to bushwick to pick up a chair that didn’t work and the super was drilling in the courtyard so loud it made my room shake and when i logged off i got dressed in my one hundred and one dalmatians overalls, stolen from my sister’s closet, and i went to the whitney solo and i cried at the puerto rican art exhibit thinking about my home languishing so far away and so mad at the white people not understanding and making crass jokes and the tour guide who acted like it is a third world country and everyone is waiting to be saved and i took in the gorgeous gorgeous lights of this beautiful place i live in from the top deck and i walked back to my train and i ran back to my home and changed and met my father and my uncles and my cousin for late late dinner on the upper east side and the old fashioned burned my throat all the way down and my sandwich fell apart in my hands and my dad called me an uber by 11:55 and when i got home the man i love came home too.

then saturday was dreary rainy gray cold all day and it was so hard to get up off the bed but i did and i picked up my laundry and i got us two coffees (cold brew and a double espresso) and two donuts (white frosting and sour cream) and we laughed so hard for hours and watched law and order as if nothing had ever been so enthralling and when we arose at 4pm i began to schlep to manhattan to meet my father and uncles for dinner and i had to stop and buy a hat because my bangs were soaked through and when i found out they were going to a seafood boil restaurant and my allergies precluded me from going there i went to jack’s wife freda like a normie on my own and sat at the dim bar and ate two overpriced eggs and drank two drinks and in the bathroom they played françoise hardy and i went to the met to kill the time and when i was there in the spanish courtyard on the first floor who did i see on the second floor balcony but the man i love and overwhelmed with the joy of coincidence, of finding someone in a city of eight million i was going to let the moment soak in and not say anything and then he yelled my name from above but i was listening to music and i couldn’t hear and two rooms later he sends me a message and when i look up there he is! with his friend and he is wearing the jacket i got him for christmas and he introduces us and his friend is about to leave so he asks me if i want to stay there with him but my father is about to arrive and i have to go and we go to first avenue and get drunk at an old person diner and when i get home the man i love asks if he can come meet me and of course he can.

then magnificent sunday the first real day of spring everyone is in shorts i urge him to leave the bed before his sunday scaries take hold and we plan to get a pre brunch before our actual brunch but both places are full but oh, miracle, we walk to the other end of our neighborhood and we grab an outdoor table at a wonderful restaurant and we sit in the blinding sun and my duck confit is perfectly cooked and we share a cup of coffee because suddenly we are both broke and we walk to his place because he is in too many layers for such a beautiful day and i try to convince him to wear shorts but none of his shoes match and we decide to walk all the way down to prospect park, a beautiful 3 miles in the sunshine, and it feels like everyone is finally out like everyone has awoken from the mild winter and realized life in community is better than any other life and on the steps of the public library life feels so worth living and we sit on a bench and i lay my head on his shoulder and watch the buds on the trees shake and everyone around us bask in joy and i am scared a mole on my leg may be skin cancer and we sit on my (his) jacket on the lawn and listen to whale sounds and start walking back home and i have to lie to a restaurant server to use the bathroom and on the thirty minute ride home i sleep on him and when we are back in our neighborhood we get the first good chinese food we have had in a month and he asks if i will go home with him and watch him play video games and i say no but not because i don’t want to because of course i want to eat up all the time i can possibly get with him i want it forever but because i am being better about not canceling every plan whenever i am presented with the opportunity to be with him and my roommates and i want to watch succession so we do and i eat terrible snacks and i keep falling asleep because i am exhausted from a beautiful weekend and when my head hits my pillow i am out in a second. and it was all so good.

[nadiaswritingworld]

More writing that no one will see

Sugar.

That's all I need. 

Lighter fluid, a tube of lipstick, and sugar. 

I currently have the first two items in my arms but the last sits high above my head. I’ve never once understood why grocery stores make their shelves go so high up. What human being could possibly reach for something without having to at least stand on their toes? 

My first instinct is to obviously climb the shelf in order to grab a hold of the bag of sugar, but I once saw someone do that in a convenience store and resulted in the shelves collapsing. So, I decide that the most rational thing to do is to find one of the employees that are always floating around waiting to help. 

I’m just about to turn and leave when the sound of someone sneezing makes me glance over my shoulder. I had no idea that there was someone else on this aisle with me. I was alone when I turned here only a mere couple of moments ago. 

Dr. Elton Milborough, the only doctor within the cluster of islands that we live on, stands only a couple feet away. He’s standing in front of the shelf with all of the canisters of salt and he turns his head as soon as I turn mine. Our eyes meet. He sniffles. 

“Gesundheit.” I say politely. 

“Thank ye.” he replies gruffly. His Scottish accent is thick and gravely like the salt rocks that I sometimes find on the beach.

In the three years I’ve lived within The Sanctuary—the name of the group of islands in the northwestern pacific—I’ve never had to go to the doctor once, therefore, I had yet the chance to meet Dr. Milborough until today. Despite standing a couple feet away from me, he looks significantly younger in person than he did in the one photograph I saw of him in the paper when he first came to The Sanctuary. In fact, he looks to be about my age, give or take a couple years. His fluffy hair is a lighter shade of strawberry blond and it’s on the longer side, slightly wavy. He has a scruffy beard the same color as his hair and his mustache hides the majority of his mouth, making it impossible to see his smile. If he even knows how to smile in the first place. He’s also really tall, I’d say he’s about six foot-

Wait. 

He’s tall. 

“Could you help me reach for something?” I ask the question before I can stop myself. I need to go home, but I can’t go home if I can’t get the damn sugar I came here for!

Dr. Milborough hesitates for a second, as if he’s considering whether to say yes and reluctantly help me or say no and snap at me. I’m really hoping it’s the former, if I’m being honest, because I really have no time for men—or anyone, really—who bitch at random strangers. 

“Aye,” he replies. He walks a bit closer to me. He’s dressed in a plain black t-shirt and a pair of jeans. The short sleeves of his shirt show off his pale arms, littered in freckles. “What’re ye tryin’ to get?” 

I simply point up at the top shelf. 

Without another word, Dr. Milborough reaches his arm up. He has to stand on his tip-toes, but he easily grabs ahold of the small green bag of sugar. He lowers himself back down and hands me the item. 

“Thank you, Dr. Milborough,” I smile as I gratefully take the bag of sugar into my arms. “You’ve saved me a lot of suffering today.”

Dr. Milborough nods, but then, he makes eye contact again. His eyebrows are slightly furrowed and I’m guessing that he’s confused since I know his name right off the bat. 

“My name’s Maeve,” I say, trying to make the moment less uncomfortable. “I would shake your hand but my arms are really full right now.”

“I…I know,” Dr. Milborough nods again. “Maeve Eaton, no?” 

It’s my turn to nod now. I feel my face warm just the tiniest bit, my breath almost catching my throat. I guess it isn’t a surprise that Dr. Milborough knows my face and name, though, because I’m a well-known lounge singer throughout The Sanctuary. Every Tuesday, Thursday, Friday, and Saturday nights, I’m performing at one of the many nightclubs, bars, restaurants, or venues in the area. I’ve been featured in editorials and articles for The Islander Tribune, cut the ribbon at too many grand openings than I care to count, and I’m a judge for the Miss Teen Islander pageant every year, so yeah, I’d say that my face and name are recognizable enough. 

“Good to meet ye,” Dr. Milborough says coolly. “Hear ye voice is like that of a songbird’s.”

I shrug. “I try.” 

Dr. Milborough nods. “Well, suppose I’ll see you around, Miss Eaton. Have a nice one.”

“You too,” I reply, and with that, Dr. Milborough turns and walks away. He doesn’t pick up a bag of flour. He just…leaves. 

For a second, I consider calling after him and telling him he forgot to get salt, but that sounds stupid. Besides, I feel like if I continue talking, I might just forget how to speak.

[camillecrowbar]

Doll Boy

Stealing a baby isn’t very hard. It’s almost as easy as cutting hair. The hard part is the crying. Babies cry. Like they’re screaming, Mom! I’m here in the neighbor’s closet! Mom! That’s the tricky part. But babies cry until they don’t. And then everything is fine.

My mother always wanted a little girl, a fact which she has not let me escape from since the day I was born.

You should be so lucky to be named after a strong woman like your grandmother.

Yes, I was named after a strong woman. Even after the nurse said to you-

A beautiful baby boy…

That never mattered to my mother. In her cursive script Alice was written on the dotted line above the checked off sex box which said Male. 

~

The nursery room might as well be smeared in shit. Pink colors the walls and closet and even the light switch. I wasn’t able to see the decrepit shade of this room from my kitchen window, but as I see it in front of me now, I realize I must save this baby. The neighbors left a while ago and they left their baby all alone. They don’t realize how many fucking freaks live in this world, how many molesters would love to snatch this baby up and sell him online. They are lucky to have a neighbor like me. They’ll be happy. He’ll be happy. I’ll be…

~

Back when my mother was sick, she used to have me come into her room and brush her hair.

What did your father get you for your birthday?

He made me something.

What?

…

Alice, what did your father make you?

A knife.

What girl plays with knives? I told him to make you a dollhouse.

I don’t like playing with dolls.

You do, Alice.

I don’t. Dolls are for girls.

But you are a girl. 

…

I’ll deal with this later. I’ll get you a better present.

~

Odd muffling sounds come from the front of the house. 

“Let’s make this quick Emily, the bar closes soon.”

There’s a key turning in the front door lock. I’m cradling the infant in my arms when I hear it. Click-click-click-pop. 

“Damn Emily, the key broke again!”

The baby stirs, messing up his perfectly tight blanket. Outside, there’s the faint sound of shuffling feet moving around the perimeter of the house. The sound is getting louder, they’re moving towards the nursery. The baby leaves my arms for a moment, I set him back in the white-ruffled crib and duck behind it before the neighbor’s heads poke up in the window. 

My chest oscillates like the waves of an ocean. I try to be quiet. Slurred voices come from the window with the broken latch. 

“She moved, her blankie is all messed up!”

“Do you think we have enough time to go back to the bar?”

“Well she seems fine- maybe another hour and we’ll come back.”

“I forgot the debit card inside, let’s get in through the back door first.”

The second they walk away from the window I crawl to the wall nearest. I stay there for a few moments. My eyes dart around the room, following an invisible fly. There’s no time left.  I need to run. My eyes catch on a baby doll in the corner of the room, sitting in a stroller. 

The back door is squeaking for mercy. The neighbors are violently shaking the door handle.

I drop the doll in the cradle next to the baby. He’s beginning to cry. I sweep him up, stealing the blanket off his body. He’s restless. His arms punch out, he kicks, and though he probably was born last week, the strength in those punches winds me. I hold him tight in my left arm. I use my right to take his blanket and messily wrap it around the doll when I notice a person’s feet visible in the crack beneath the door. I tip-toe for the closet with the baby. As the brass knob turns, I swing it open, and as they open the door all the way, I push myself inside the small space, closing the closet door with a loud click. I think they heard. 

Peering through the shutters of the closet door, I see Emily walk into the room. But instead of moving for the cradle or the closet, she goes to a table close by. She picks up a blue card. 

She walks away, just a simple glance over her shoulder to check on the baby and she’s gone. The door closes. It clicks shut. 

“She looks fine, Edward.”

I move my hand away from the baby’s mouth. I laugh. 

~

The sky is red tonight. The boxy TV in the living room chatters off to me all the fire bans in the surrounding counties. I half-listen while sitting in Papa’s old rocking chair, whittling a swiss army knife. There’s a small chandelier hanging above me, it flickers on and off as the wind outside intensifies. Its whistling reaches my ears from the open window in the kitchen. It reminds me of a childhood visit to my grandparents on the East Coast.

Keep your cap on. Tie the bow below your chin so it doesn’t blow off. No, do it more dainty.

Like this?

Not a knot! A bow! For Christ’s sake, we put you in the Girl Scouts to learn how to tie bows, not knots! Come closer.

You’re hurting me.

Shush. A girl is to be seen not heard. 

I am not a girl.

There’s a sizzling and a pop, then the power goes out. I set down the carving tool and the wooden knife on the floor. Out the kitchen window, tree branches are flying through the sky. Across the fence, and through the neighbor’s large living-room window, and down the hall, in the pink nursery, Emily holds the doll out with both hands. Her mouth is open wide. Her eyes are wet. I get up from the rocking chair and walk up narrow steps to my room. I go to bed.

In the middle of the night, I hear the sirens. Blue and red flashes illuminate the curve of my cheeks and eyelids. It’s like that time I found Papa on the floor with the wooden knife. I had to pry it from his cold hands.

Alice! Alice! Alice!

What are you doing, Alice?

Drop your father’s knife.

It’s not yours. 

Give it to momma.

Don’t you want your father to be happy?

To love you?

Leave your father alone!

He won’t ever forgive you if you wake him up.

Alice, look at momma.

Alice, look at momma.

Alice.

Look.

At. 

Mama. 

Happy Birthday, Alice.

I love you Alice. Your father loves you too.

Now when the cops come, you need to tell them I was at Aunt Mary’s all afternoon.

Deep in my closet, the baby sleeps in the box which used to hold my mother’s clothes. He used to cry, but now he doesn’t. Everything is fine. 

In the morning, light glows through the kitchen window. It shines on the wooden swiss army knife from the night before. Embedded in its hilt, little whittled flowers bloom in the sun. 

[kissitbttr]

𝒃𝒍𝒖𝒏𝒕 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒕𝒘𝒐

summary: steven is head over heels for you but you are yet to know. yet, things just might change when you offer him his first ever weed

pairing: steven grant x reader, marc spector x reader, jake lockely x reader

word count: 4152

“How are you feeling, Stevie?”

He hears you ask, a tone laced with concern as you speak. Your delicate hand reaches out to brush a few of his curls from his forehead, and for a quick second, he feels himself melt under your touch.

You have been his friend for six months now. He remembered the day you walked into his life by saving his ass from being tormented even further by his manager. You pretended to be his girlfriend and gave him a soft peck on the cheek in front of her. Up until now, he couldn’t believe that it had happened. It was surreal because no one had ever defended him from anything. He went through a lot of things alone.

But he has you now.

“I’m fine, love. Thank you” He gives you a smile, but you can already tell it’s not genuine. In fact, he does it quite often. “I hate how you always have to lie about not being okay, it’s just me Steven” you reassure. Twirling your finger around his soft hair. “Has someone been poking fun at you?”

Steven shakes his head, fiddling with his fingers. “No, no. It’s not them, I’m just…” He pauses to take a deep breath. "Exhausted. I find it difficult to get some sleep lately. Could be anxiety and such.”

“Have you… talked to someone about it?” you question, crossing your arms as the worry grows over his lack of sleep and the more prominent dark circles under his eyes.

He shakes his head. “No. it’s just you. You’re the only one who knows. Not like I could afford therapy or something” he mentions, pulling his sleeves to make sweater paws. “Plus, I don’t really have that many friends.”

Your brows dip into sadness, “I’m sorry, Stevie. I wish I could help you with that. I’m struggling a bit myself if it makes you feel better. The bar I work at is losing its customers since the incident that happened two weeks ago. Remember that? So I might have to find singing gigs from someplace else, in case the bar shut down.” With a sigh, you slump onto the couch, hating yourself because you can’t help him with his situation.

“Don’t worry about it, love. It’s not your fault, yeah?” He says, hoping it puts your mind at ease, as he watches the small pout form on your lips.

There it is. One of the many reasons he fell in love with you. You take such good care of him, he appreciates that a lot. Your eyes speak with such sincerity when you talk to him. Your voice grows soft when you comfort him about whatever it is that has been bothering him. He fails to count the number of times you make his heart soften with your words. One thing he takes such pride in is that he’s the only person you’re soft with.

He sees you talk to your friends and other people with such a bossy and bold attitude, and makes them fear you. You have a smart mouth and love to destroy people with wit and sarcasm. He finds that extremely attractive.

“Oh, I know what we should do!” You exclaim and your mouth turns into a huge smile as you jump yourself up from the couch excitedly. “Be right back”

His brows furrow as he watches you skip towards your bedroom. “Where are you going?” He calls you, but there’s no answer, wondering what you have on your pretty little mind.

You return a few minutes later, a Ziploc bag in your hand filled with… leaves?

“What’s that in your hand?” He points with his finger,

You plop yourself back down next to him, and he has to quickly look away due to your shorts’ terrible work at hiding your soft thighs.

“This” You lift the bag up. “Is cannabis”

“A what?”

“Cannabis. You know, weed?” You smile at him, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear and wiggling the bag. “When I get depressed or feel like crying, I take these out, roll them up, and smoke one until I get better.”

“Oh, I don’t know if I should–”

“They’re not strong like coke or anything. It’s not gonna get you fucked up if that’s what you’re worried about. Trust me on this, okay?” You grab a small table from beside the couch and place the papers down before taking out a handful of grass. “I’m not going to make you do something that’ll put you in trouble.”

He watches intently as you put the fresh grounded leaves inside the transparent paper, grabbing a filter tip with your other hand and placing it on the left side of the joint. He enjoys the sight of your fingers rolling the blunt gently, as if you’re scared to break it. He likes watching you do something with your hands, and not in a creepy way, of course. It’s just that whenever he sees you doing something, you always seem so gentle with it.

“This is rather entertaining to watch” he mutters, leaning forward a little to get a better look. “You do this often, don’t you”

“Been doing this since high school, Steven.” You respond with a small chuckle, sticking your tongue out to secure the blunt in place before pressing it

Steven clears his throat, trying to rid the image of your pierced tongue on his head. “Wow that’s–that’s amazing” he comments, “So uh– what do we do with it?”

“We smoke it” you point out, matter-of-factly, follows by a small giggle at his cute innocence. “Just inhale lightly, don’t overdo it just yet. This is your first time, right?”

“Yeah” He breathes out, picking at a loose thread on the sweater he’s wearing, a habit of his when he gets nervous. “I’m scared of trying it out to be honest.”

“It’s not gonna bite you, Steven” you roll your eyes playfully with a smile remaining on your lips, then reach out to grab a baby pink lighter across from you. “I’m gonna light it now, okay?”

Steven has his mouth wide open when he sees you putting the butt of the joint between your glossed lips. Lighting it at the end before watching you inhale quite deeply, releasing the smoke seconds later and watching it dissolve into thin air.

“Your turn” you nudge his knee while handing him the blunt. “Just do what I just did”

He’s contemplating whether he should grab it or not. Not because he doesn’t want to, but it’s because this would be the first time he’s trying weed and he doesn’t want to make a fool of himself in front of you. What if he choked or swallowed the smoke instead of releasing it?

He’s never even smoked a cigarette before.

“I’m-i’m–”

You watch him set his eyes on the blunt, probably scared of messing it up since he never smoked anything before in his life. And you completely understand why, so you think that there might be a better way of helping his cute self out with something that’s far more comfortable.

“Okay, how about this. I’ll guide you through it, sounds good?” You softly say, tucking your legs beneath your thighs and scooting yourself closer to him.

“H-how?”

“By trusting me” you whisper softly once your face is close enough to his, inhaling once more from the blunt.

He gulps at the sight of you. So pretty and so close. He glances down at your soft lips that he has been fantasizing about molding with his own, your long dark messy hair that he wants to run his hands through after making love to you. To have your hair spread all over his pillows, leaving it to smell like you every day.

He wants to drown himself in your scent.

“Open your mouth for me .” You whisper softly, taking a quick look at his lips

He feels butterflies in his stomach when you say that, unsure what to think, but he does anyway. Parting his mouth a bit and before he knows it, you’re making your move. By reaching both of your hands up, cupping his face, and guiding your lips into his before exhaling the smoke softly and slowly into Steven’s open mouth with both of your eyes closed.

The room is dead silent, and he swears he can hear his heartbeat going faster each second. His body trembles slightly over the feeling of your mouth on him and you put your hand on his thigh to calm him down, letting him know that you got him.

His eyes go wide. His body stiffens as he tries his very best to push all of the dirty thoughts about you, clouding his mind. Eventually, he relaxes, slowly closing his eyes as he savors the sweet taste of your lips.

After a while, you pull away from him. And he struggles not to cling himself to you because he likes having your soft lips on his. This could be the closest thing he can get to having you and he does not want to let go just yet.

With his brown eyes ghosting over yours, he allows himself to observe every single detail of your gorgeous face. Moving from the crease between your brows to your nose, and your smile.

Your hands remain on each side of his cheeks, giggling at his adorable facial expression while closing his mouth with your fingers underneath his chin. He inhales the smoke slowly,

“You good, baby?” You ask, giving him another, yet a lazy smile, his pupils dilated as you watch him. You don’t know if it’s because of the amount of smoke you’ve inhaled or it could be just him. Either way,

You feel content because you have two of your favorite things with you right now.

​​His heart soars and his cheeks feel warm at the nickname, as he nods. This is the first time he has ever gotten to be called ‘baby’ and he’s lucky enough to hear it from your mouth.

No one could ever make him feel at home the way you do.

“Never felt better”

. . .

Steven hasn’t gotten a clue at what time it is. It feels like this has been going on for hours. Just lying comfortably on your couch with you beside him, a second blunt tucks between your pretty fingers. His eyes are quite hazy; if you’re curious enough to take a peek, he no longer feels the anxiety taking over his body, but rather a feeling of relaxation and warmth.

“I’m hungry” you blurt, jutting your lower lip. “I could go for a burger right now” the mental image of that delicious meal on your mind is making your mouth water.

“We could… order it, i-if you wanna” he slurs, eyes flittering over to you. You look so calm with that gorgeous smile of yours.

Snorting, you answer “You’re a vegan, Steven”

“I mean yeah but … there’s no harm in trying. Haven’t had one of those in years.” He notes, “Vegan burgers are disgusting anyway”

“Right” you agree with a laugh, sitting up before disregarding the blunt into the nearest trash can. “Are you… good?”

He nods, biting back a sigh of relief. “I’m great actually, love. That stuff really works.” Digging his knuckles lightly against his eyelids, rubbing them gently

You look over at him and you almost fall to your knees at the sight. He looks so fucking adorable. With that droopy look on his face and the sweater paws he has on. Is he doing this on purpose?

“Told ya” you reach forward to him, slightly grazing his nose with your finger. “I like your nose. It’s pretty ”

He feels soft, your voice always seems to ease his nerves away. “Do you, actually? Or are you just saying that because you’re under the influence?”

“It’s called being high, Steven” you correct him with a better term. “And no I am definitely not high. Like you are right now.” From all of the people you’ve smoked with, Steven may just be your favorite. He’s basically just himself, but more entertaining and adorable. The reaction that weed has given him is making him relaxed, it seems. You just hope that it’s enough to make him forget about the troubles that have consumed his mind lately. He deserves a break, he really does.

“My bad, love. It’s my first time doing this.” He defends with a giggle. Eyes bore on yours as he reaches his hand out, pressing his thumb against your soft cheek. Something he never had the courage to do when he was sober. Even just now, he’s terrified of making you feel uneasy.

“Can I tell you something?”

With a smile, you nod. “Of course.”

Steven sits still and remains quiet as he can be, trying to put together the words he’s about to say to you. He knows what he has been wanting to say over the past few months, but insecurities tend to get the best of him. Not a day goes by that his own thoughts stress him out about how he’s not good enough for someone else, not even for himself.

What if he said something he really meant, but you can't give him the answer he wanted? What if you realized that he has been pinning over you for a long time and that makes you feel uncomfortable because you just see him as a friend? These scenarios he purposely built on his mind have been destroying his days, and it hasn’t even happened yet. He’s hurting himself emotionally and he has no idea how to stop it.

It’s going to get worse if you reject him. He’d be so hurt.

“I’m so grateful to have you in my life.” He starts, gulping nervously. “And I like this, being with you … you give me some sort of certainty that I’m going to be okay in the future. You make me feel so safe.”

You try to hold back the smile on your face as you bite your lip softly, “As do you” your hand reaches out to grasp his hand, interlocking your fingers together.

Steven likes the feeling of your soft palm on his, and he grips your hand gently. Letting you know that he doesn’t want you to let go. “You’ve become my safety net for the longest time. There have been so many times where I feel so scared but you show me how I should not be anymore.” He looks down at your hands before continuing, “Don’t understand why you wanna waste your time to be with me, love. I’m a knob. A complete tool if you asked Donna.”

“Steven” you sternly say, a displeasing look on your face as he insults himself like that.

“I know, I know… ‘Don’t say that shit about yourself, again Steven Grant’ is what you always like to say to me. Million times if I counted right.” He jokes and mentally cheers once he manages to earn a smile from you at his attempt at doing your voice. “But it’s quite what I haven’t figured out yet, love. Why do you?”

You keep your eyes on him, trying to figure out whether he’s joking or not. This is one of the main things you despise about him. How he’s so willing to drag himself down because others have spoken to him exactly how they think of him. Because of them, he has never been able to find one good thing about himself while you have millions sitting in the back of your mind. Every day, you find a quirk of his that makes you adore him even more than ever.

You wish he knew that.

“Oh, Steven… I wish you could see yourself as the world sees you” you speak sadly, tilting your head to the side. “You have been my safety net too. Do you know how comfortable I am with you? I don’t think I’ve ever felt this good in someone else’s arms before.”

His breath hitches in his throat, feeling his hand get clammy due to his nerves rushing in. “Can I tell you something? But you have to promise to never look at me differently after this or be disgusted with me”

You frown, shaking your head. “Couldn’t imagine myself being disgusted with you… what is it?”

You watch him take three big deep breaths. His eyes aren’t looking at you anymore. But you see a hint of fear reflecting on his beautiful brown eyes and it makes you tense just a little. And soon as he says those words that have been weighing on his shoulders, he knows there’s no turning back now.

“I love you”

The time stops when you hear his confession. Eyes are broadening in shock as your whole body freezes, not knowing what to respond to. The beating of your heart makes it impossible for you to concentrate. You believe it’s loud enough. Even Steven could hear it.

“What?” You croak out,

He repeats it once more. This time he blurts out the details. “I’ve loved you ever since you stepped into the museum and offered me your coffee because you saw how tired I looked. I love how you protected me when Donna mistreated me that one time. I love how you make my kitchen smell like pancakes and hot chocolate every time you stay over. I love how I’m the person you ask about which songs you’re going to be doing at your gigs. I love how you tell stories about Greek mythology and I’m having a hard time whether I actually am invested with Greek history or the sound of your voice.”

There’s a long pause after that. Your eyes soften and you struggle to fight off the warmth that’s trying to sneak its way to the apple of your cheeks after hearing him say that.

“I love your body too…” He continues, figuring the silence is getting a bit awkward, “I mean forgive me if I offended you for saying this darling but, I sometimes fantasize about your ... breasts”

You laugh at his honesty, covering your face with your hands. “Jesus, Steven”

Now that weed really overpowers him,

“I just ... love you overall ... I like it with you ... like this. if you don’t feel the same way that’s completely fine with me but just know I’d probably be a wreck, cry myself to sleep, and listen to sad songs all week. It’s quite pathetic to think about it yeah?” He winces slightly at the thought,

“Steven-“

He cuts you off “I mean, a girl like you wouldn’t want to be with someone like me. We don’t look good together I suppose, people might think-“

“Steven” You call out his name once more

“That we look odd. Lil ol’ Steven Grant. Can’t imagine what my co-workers think if they saw us dating, they’d probably think I’d bewitched you or something. You’re smart, gorgeous, funny, kind,and have all the men fawning over you. I don’t stand a chance”

“Steven! Stop. Talking.” You say it louder this time, your hands grabbing onto his face and forcing him to look at you.

“Oh was I rambling?” He asks dumbfoundedly, eyes genuinely looking concerned when he hears you yell out his name

“Yes! Good God” you nod, giving him a tired smile.

“Sorry, darling, a habit there” He mumbles softly, knuckling at her eyes before emitting a soft chuckle, cursing himself for having such a mouth.

“You have to let me answer, okay?” Your voice is gentle, “no talking during.”

He nods meekly, not ready to hear you reject him up front, “Okay”

“First of all. If they were to ever say something bad about you, I’d personally march over there and kill them, myself. Literally.” You seriously state. “I am not joking. I smacked a bitch before in a school play, in front of everyone, so I do not mess around.”

“That’s terrifying actually “ he mutters, though not surprised

“Second... I like being in this space with you too. This is the closure I have been wanting for so long and I want it with you.” You murmur, petting at the soft skin of his cheek with the pad of your thumb. Liking the feeling of his light stubble under it.

His eyes are full of hope as he stares at you lovingly. He wonders if this is going to go where he thinks it’s going. “You do?”

“Yeah” you give him a comforting grin, letting your temple lull against the headrest, smiling softly. “Do you have any idea how hard it is for me to contain this feeling I have for you? To resist the urge of kissing your lips every time I see someone flirting with you?”

“Re-really?” He sounds surprised. Almost like you’re pulling a prank on him because there he doesn’t think that you’re being honest. “You think that? When you’re with me?”

“All the time, Stevie.” You answer, and the nickname rolls out of your tongue easily. “You don’t sound convinced though.”

“Wha– well” he begins, his voice starting to get a bit high and jittery as he speaks. “I don’t think I ever deserved to have your love. I’m not– You know–”

Your face falls into worry and sadness, watching him choking back a sob as a single tear drops from his eye. “Hey, hey, Steven? Baby, what’s wrong?” Letting your fingertips glide against his skin, wiping away the tear that stains his cheek. “I didn’t mean to make you cry.”

“It’s not you.” He chuckles sadly, fingers wiping underneath his nose. “Everything you’ve ever done for me, I appreciate it a lot more than you think. You’re such a beautiful person, Y/N. Especially tonight. No one has ever held me like this, help taking care of my well-being, I thought I was a burden to you.”

You gape at his vulnerability, feeling the emotions are taking over his place as he looks away, not caring anymore about the tears that fall religiously. “Steven, oh my God, baby. How could you think something like that?” Your tone is sharp but also upset. “You could never ever become a burden of mine. I love you.”

With that, his silent cries stop, his wet gaze flickering at you as he hears you say the same thing he’s said to you. “You–you what?”

“I. Love. You” you state firmly, taking him by the nape of his neck with one hand as the other rests on the right side of his cheek. “And I want all of you. The good and the bad. Even if there’s a fucking demon paralysis that you got going on, I want it too. Might scare me to shitless but I’ll take it.”

He chokes out a laugh through his small sobs. Still can’t shake off the idea of you loving him just as he, to you. There’s a warm feeling inside of him that grows once you say it. Something about having you in his arms, it makes him feel so . . . nice and . . . wanted. It has been quite a long time since he’s been with a person. It created such a gap between him and love.

That is until you came along. You show him that there’s nothing to be afraid of anymore.

“Okay” is the only response he’s able to give. A soft smile replaces his frown. Now he feels nothing but reassurance.

Both of you stare at each other in comfortable silence. You feel his broad hand move slowly to grab you by your right hip, as the other one makes its way to your soft thigh, tugging it closer to him so you can rest it on his lap. His heart jitters in a beat when he feels your knee brushing lightly against his groin.

You tuck your lower lip between your teeth, grazing your fingertip against his mouth before leaning forward and molding your lips against his, ever so softly and delicately. He sighs into your mouth with contentment. Like he has been waiting for this to happen for as long as he can remember. He puts both of his hands on your waist, giving it a light squeeze, and it’s enough to make you squirm a bit on his lap, sending a vibration to your core.

With your eyes shutting close, you wrap your arms around his neck and pull him closer. Jutting out your tongue to glide his lower lip, asking for an entrance before he slacks his jaw, mouthing at you hungrily. Sudden confidence washes over him, making you gasp in surprise.

“I love kissing you.” You comment cheekily, after your lips part away from each other. Jaded eyes staring at his –far more jaded ones–. The butterflies in your stomach have yet to stop. “I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of doing that”

He adores the way you speak to him. Never fail to make him feel shy, yet fuzzy with your words. There’s nothing he cherishes more than that. “I’ve been waiting so long to kiss you, love. Your lips and scent could be the death of me” he says, drawing circles on your back.

You giggle, feeling like a schoolgirl when you’re with him. “I’m not craving burgers anymore, I’ll make us some pasta” You peck his nose before getting up from his lap and start walking into the kitchen.

Steven presses his lips, trying to contain the big smile on his face when he watches you walk away. He couldn't believe it. Simply put, he cannot believe it. He wins you over. After dreaming about pining over you, wishing that he could be the guy that gets to kiss and hug you, it finally comes true.

He lowers his gaze down to the glass table, catching a glimpse of Marc’s proud smile at him after hearing Steven opening up to you along with the bottled-up confessions. After having long overdue amounts of countless conversations with him when you’re not around, he finally did it.

Marc believes that you’re good for him. You’re one gorgeous woman who managed to captivate both of them and pulled his brother out of his misery. He has seen you through Steven’s eyes, refusing to front , because as much as Marc loves you too, Steven deserves this more. For what he had been through because of him, Steven deserves all of this. He deserves you.

Good job, buddy. You did it

Steven shoots him a small smile, mouthing a ‘thank you’ which receives a nod from Marc. Another person he feels grateful to have in his life.

“Oh, Steven?”

He hears you call out his name, whipping his head back so fast, to find you standing next to the kitchen counter. “Yeah, love?”

Your head tilts to the side, letting a dimpled smile decorate your face. As you watch him fiddling with his own fingers, hoping to think that he hasn’t done something wrong to upset you.

“You might be the best high I’ve ever had.”

+

Pretty please leave a note on this one xx

[a-gal-with-taste]

Gal Masterlist - Silco

Masterlist of all Silco fics on my blog, my shrine of simping and thirst, complied into one post that took me WAY too long to make.

May expand to other characters if requested. Each fic has it's own warning-list, and reminder that this blog is 18+ only, Minors DNI

Unless otherwise stated, fics are Silco/Reader material

[Updated Feb. 23, 2022]

A03 | Kofi | Requests: Open | Taglist

Multi-Parters

Timer (Ongoing)

In the color of their eyes, there is a set of numbers on wrists that are counting down the days, hours, minutes, and seconds to when you will meet your soulmate.

Pretend (Ongoing)

After being tailed one-too-many blocks, you duck into the first bar you find and grab the most-sober looking man in the room to do a bit of acting. You find, it might have been a more dangerous gamble than you'd ever intended...

Of Zaun (TBC)

Future Multi-Chapter

Of Opposites (Hiatus)

But your racing, panicking mind just can’t seem to shake the idea of it, a part of you musing coldly, clinically at the idea of just… letting it happen. Letting the Eye of Zaun simply stay down in this flooded basement. Letting Silco drown.

Flawless (Comp.) (All Parts NSFW)

The first time you ever said it, it was his 17th time visiting you.

Goodreads (Comp.)

You walk into the Undercity’s most famous club, and an hour in, immediately sneak off to go immerse yourself in the book you brought. The stranger that joins you at the bar-counter, takes an interest.

Tired (Ongoing)

It's too late (early, probably) to be getting chewed out like this. Your fist is still stinging from last nights' job, you need a shower, you still have no idea how to navigate your complex emotions for this man, and worse of all: You're tired.

Alt. Timer (AU of Timer | Hiatus)

In which timers are allowed to reach zero.

Lucky (Ongoing) (Part 2 NSFW)

You admired him. Then you became infatuated with him. You don't know if you call what you feel now love, but it made the mental image of you and him rather painful, in knowing that now it could never be. Not after this, not with that book in his hands... so maybe it was something close to it.

The Perfect Fit (Comp.) (Part 4 NSFW)

Once upon a time, a Son of Zaun peers into the window of a tailor shop. The tailor's apprentice comes outside to join him.

Yours, or Mine? (Comp.)

The aftermath of a one-night with a young Son of Zaun.

Royal-Flush (Comp.) (Part 2 NSFW)

Another thrill creeps up your spine. Any complaints of the chill goes out the window under the heat of his gaze watching you, as you reach down and hook fingers on the hem of your pants. A new kind of game has begun.

Oneshots

His Colors

From The Past

Jealousy, Jealousy

Old Ghosts

Fishbowl

Well Hello

Together

Sweet

Are We?

Nice Things

"They won't let me."

Enunciate (NSFW)

"Go back to Sleep."

Terror (NSFW)

Echoings (NSFW)

Something Special (NSFW)

Special Something (NSFW)

Second the Motion (NSFW)

Gala of '81 (NSFW)

Caller Not Available (NSFW)

Fond Farewell (NSFW)

I Don't Like This Song (NSFW)

Musical Appreciation (NSFW)

Requests

Protective Silco w/Apologizing Reader

"Charming" young Silco First-Meet

Physical-Affection w/young Silco

Injured Reader + Protective Silco

New Years w/Silco and Jinx

Drunk!Reader calling Silco a silver-fox

Soulmate AU + Piltover!Reader x young Silco

Reader with New Haircut + young Silco

Reader speaking different language

"As the World Caves in" + Reader Death

Mom!Reader Saving Jinx + Couch-Sleeping Silco

One That Got Away + mining kids Reader & Silco

Childhood Savior/Crush + Reunion as Adults

Singer!Reader w/young Vander & Silco

Partner in Crime with Silco

Young Silco/Reader + breeding kink (NSFW)

Young Jealous Silco

Reader accidentally saying "I Love You"

Reader on a Leash (NSFW)

Analysis & Stuff

Screenshot Collection | 1 2 3 4

Silco & Jayce Negotiation Scene

Silco's Gang Reaction to Powder/Jinx

Quotes/Opinion on how to write Relationships

Gushing about Favorite Silco Screenshots

"No seriously, I've never watched Arcane."

Silco and Independent/Dependent Partners

Silco Expression, "The Nation of Zaun."