WELCOME BACKKK SWEET THING

IT WAS NOT CORNY!! it has a lot of romance potential! and flashbacks

thank you, thank you, thank you! you make my heart melllttt! 🩵🩵

🤭🤭

no cinderella.

summary. singing songs for powder to fall asleep to has become a regular thing for you, and violet seems to appreciate that. cw. young!violet x youngfem!reader, wlw, sugar sweet fluff. wc. 840 cr. young vi gif from arcanegifs on tumblr. notes. this is so cute, i had fun writing this. (⭒  ์ ⲳ ์ ) a bit ashamed that it's awfully short, but i feel it's better this way? ┐(‘～`;)┌ disc. killing me softly

The otherwise dim room that provided an illusion of safety was lit by a single lantern that was left on a wooden table, with dust particles surrounding the warm, orange light emitting from within, behind the lines of metal. The right side of the room has two patchy couches of poor condition accompanied by a barrel with a record player placed on top and that wooden table, the left side of the room was Powder's little corner, a twin sized bed with wooden frames, the same patchy design of the couches were relayed for her blanket.

The couches were deserted except for a single seat sofa, where Violet's slouched body sat, left hand's fingers threaded through the strands of her pink hair, right leg bouncing persistently being left overlooked by her, heel of her shoe tapping against the wooden floor. Her demeanor told a glaringly similar story when compared to what's transpiring behind her skull, steel blue eyes staring off at the orange light in front of her.

You were settled down onto Powder's bed, sitting upright at the edge of it with Powder laid curled up behind you, her small, cold hand a sharp contrast to your palm's warmth and the circular motion of your thumb upon the top of her hand that she found comfort in, she'd open and close her mouth if she were to explain as to why that is– but in the depths of her essence, she knows it's because it brings familiarity to her of someone she held dear. 

Her cheek was smushed onto the blanket, knees held close to her chest. She returned your gaze with a growing smile, eyelids weighed heavy, and she blinked languidly. “Y/n, can you sing that song again?” Voice kindred to a breeze, words expressed openly with a concoction of expectation and knowings. “Which one, Powder? I've sung many.” She lightly groaned in response. “Um..” Her eyes sealed shut, and a quiet moment passed you by.

Soft humming arose from below you, Powder trying to impart the song to you through recollecting the past. “Ah, alright.” You nod your head, clearing your throat, right ankle moving to cross over the other, legs stretched. She stops, waiting patiently with her eyes closed. 

“Strumming my pain with his fingers.” You sing in a whisper, tune unbroken, and with confidence you used to not have regarding your vocals, somewhat deep and smooth like satin. “Singing my life with his words. Killing me softly with his song, killing me softly, with his song. Telling my whole life, with his words, killing me softly, with his song..” Your feet tapped, curating the beat from how you remembered it, and it was without a doubt accurate. 

“I felt all flushed with fever, embarrassed by the crowd, I felt he found my letters, and read each one out loud.” Voice rising slightly at the right time, lashes fluttering shut when you feel that strong wave of passion in you, behind your eyelids, a place for vivid imagination, a single white light from above shining down on you and the stage you stood upon– “He sang as if he knew me, in all my dark despair, and then he looked right through me.” Eyebrows pinching together, channeling those emotions as if it were truly yours. “As if I wasn't there.” – a crowd that harmonized with you, saying the words you imagined that you crafted and put your sweat and tears into with equal fervor, echoing in your skull. A dream out of reach, fingertips aching, itching to touch that blinding white brilliance in an abyss of black.

That tapping your ears were used to hearing had stopped, you're surprised you even noticed in the first place.

And when you opened your eyes, Violet was gazing back at you, the right corner of her lip was curled upwards, head held up by her closed hand, elbow digging into the armrest of the sofa. Your words went airy for a moment before regaining its stable balance when your ears caught onto her humming. Present, unforgivably supportive, the one who shone the brightest in your front row seats. 

Smiling back at her only makes her face reflect yours. It grows on her. This night was a small breath of fresh air that you'll never let leave your memory bank, rustic lid sealed tight. 

You both finish the song together, Violet mostly humming but tapping in to sing a few words with you every now and then until it has finally come to an end. Violet's eyes drift from yours to check on Powder, you did as well. The little girl was soundly asleep, her hold on your hand had waned long ago, and faint snoring filled the renewed silence.

“Your voice is beautiful.” Violet commented, unhidden sincerity in the way she said it. The same hand she had her head lean onto shifted to scratch the nape of her neck, her other hand lying stagnant on her thigh, upper body leaning back in her seat.

“Thank you, Vi.”

OMGG YOU'RE BACKKK

WHOOP WHOOP!! 💗💗😭 i learned my lesson in not uploading AT NIGHT lmaoo

Ur Ellie fics cured my depression, cleared my skin, and paid off my student loans. 10/10, would read again

TEEHEE thank you so much 💕🤭 it took me like 12 hours just to write 2,020 words

Your writing in full throttle is so good, I forgot to breathe. Please send an ambulance (but also another chapter)

the fact that you "forgot to breathe" is HUGE for me! I love it when stories make you really feel also I'm so happy you liked my writing, you guys made my week with this love!! i love you pookie(s). 🤭🩵

thank you for 6 followers u cuties (ˊᗜˋ)/ᵗᑋᵃᐢᵏ ᵞᵒᵘ*

TITLE. All I Have IN SHORT. clingy!jinx X reader "I Can't lose you too." | made with WLW in mind. CROSSOVER. Arcane: League of Legends X Cyberpunk 2077 WC. 1,555 CR. official art [ Arcane: League of Legends ] this is the outside of jinx's place that i tried my best to describe lmao TALKING. first ever fanfic. send any healthy criticism, i'd love that! at first it was ripperdoc!jinx but i had no idea where i was going with this tbh so i just went with clingy jinx lmao. and apparently jackie died differently in this teehee. might seem ooc, yikes. did I eat with this one yall? lmk :( PROJECT BEGUN. 11/30/2024 this took me awhile HAH! ACT. iii

Night City was bustling with people cheering and yelling, the disruptive revving of car engines speeding down the wide streets, the cool night air whispering past your skin, your hands comfortably resting in the pockets of your pants, your right hand holding onto your keys hidden inside the pocket, and your head slightly lowered as you stride past other people on the packed sidewalk. Your knuckles carry a faint throbbing ache that you're awfully familiar with. The night sky makes the ads displayed practically on every building look more vibrant than in the daytime. Your heart felt heavy, burdened by an overwhelming wave of sorrow and distress, while your composure dangled precariously, clinging on by the slightest thread.

You slip past multiple distracted spectators watching the race in Little China, occasionally bumping into others as you make your way through the other side of the crowd. Headlights whipping by, the smell of body sweat and alcohol invaded your nostrils. Your left-hand rises from your pocket to push a bystander to the side, finally making it out of the crowd to the other side, your main focus on reaching out to someone you held dear after a hot minute of your absence.

The street life drained you in ways you knew you'd be in if it meant you'd stay afloat in Night City. As the days went by including you sending little to no messages to Jinx, backstabbers were left sniffling the ground you walk after you're done with them, biz dealing with individuals where you can't always put your guard down, foolish gangoons pushing their luck with you. Being protective of what's rightfully yours, or taking from the more fortunate, getting to the top meant having every advantage you could get, and then you'll have a better chance to get far in this line of dangerous work.

After another minute of walking alone, the sounds of the people's voices faded as you made a right turn, chip bags, bottles, garbage bags, and papers lightly blown about, all this junk on the ground was a normal sighting in this inescapable city. As you walked further into a narrow alleyway, you stood in front of a gate that stopped you from moving forward, cyberpunk lighting coming from the street lamp behind it brought the otherwise dreary alleyway into.. something somewhat lively, and homey. You can give it that.

At the end of the alleyway were colorful chalk drawings of angry cartoonish monkeys and smack dab in the middle of the wall was a portrait of a little girl beautifully drawn by You and Jinx's hands on the brick wall. Pink wires as the background, and the two words "POW POW!" written above her head were drawn in a sprite shadow font. A soft smile touched your lips, the drawing carried a heavier purpose of memorabilia after little Isha's passing, and the relationship you three shared, you and Jinx cherished it. Pulling your right hand out from its pocket, multiple keys held together by a ring jingled from your hand movements, eyes scanning over all of them to land on a basic, silver key.

Holding it between your thumb and index finger, you insert the key into the slot and steadily turn it to unlock the gate. Shoving the keys back into your right pocket, you push it open with your forearm, stepping through the gate door, you close it behind you and quickly move toward the steps, the soles of your worn-out shoes softly thud against the concrete as you walk up the short set of stairs. You halt all your movement when you stand right in front of the entrance to Jinx's place. Rock music booming in the confines of the room's four walls was muffled by the metal door firmly standing in your way.

Letting out a barely audible breath, anticipating the argument you're going to walk yourself into. You swiftly repeat your actions by unlocking the door to her place. As you step through the threshold of the doorframe, slamming the door behind your back, your eyes are immediately met with a woman's slender figure in the middle of the room, aiming a gun your way that'd gradually lower to her left side as your recognizable appearance instantly brought her eyebrows to rest from its tight frown, her wide stare softened faintly. Her expression gradually faded into something resembling ease and a drip of irritation. The lightly worn-out leather chair behind her spun, showing the urgency and haste in her movement when met with anything that could quickly lead to life or death.

"Ah, Y/N." Drawing your name out with false unenthusiasm and unrestrained annoyance that had an underlying sense of harmlessness to it. "Popping in after ghosting me for three days?" Her voice was raspy, her upper lip subtly curling upwards. Violet-red eyes holding you in your place, her head tilting a little to the side, her jagged side bang obscuring her right eye, making her dark eyebags more notable because of the pink lighting in the room. She placed the gun in her left hand on the metal table beside her, turning down the rock music playing through the phone with the same hand without delay. Her hands clasped together behind her back as she sauntered over to you, stopping her movement when she was just a foot away from you, her head leaning in a tad bit, her right hand rising to roughly press her index finger against your chest.

"Why were you gone for so long? You know I don't like it when you're gone for that long." It was heavy, the unblinking stare and the want simmering in her heart urging her to close the gap between the both of you.

"Fixer hooked me up with a job that included insane amounts of eddies but- a lot went wrong. And I…" You held it together in the first half of your sentence but you couldn't hold it together forever. Every single second you were left alone with your thoughts the morning after the job was finished, losing Jackie that night, the man who earnestly stood by you since you started doing biz, a man you trusted, the gunfight following as soon as the brief, intense, and loud burst of noise of a pistol going off, the bullet hole left in his forehead, blood seeping from it. He was gone, in such a short time-frame. You'd spent time outside of work with him, fought together, and saved each other from sticky situations- This loss on top of Isha's was a pierce to your solid heart harder than you prepared for.

Just speaking on anything relating to losing someone important to you, first Isha, now Jackie.. You had to see Jinx, after going through that, you couldn't sit alone in your apartment that felt so void without anyone occupying it other than you, and being alone with your thoughts wasn't ideal. "Ahh… I just can't lose you too, Jinx. I'd rather it'd be me in harm's way, y'know?" Your eyes heat up. Darting, staring anywhere but at the woman standing right in front of you. Your bottom lip curls in for your upper teeth to bite down on it for a moment. Tears threaten to spill out.

She's all you have left.

A palm, warm to the touch, cups one side of your face, tenderly ushering you to look at her, tugging you out of the deep pit that is the fear consuming you. Her eyes meet yours head-on, a weak, close-lipped smile adorning her lips, her bottom lip vaguely trembling, her face expressing the same pain you held, understanding well how you feel at this very moment. Her thumb moves in smooth, circular motions upon your cheekbone. You gently grasp Jinx's upper arm, the arm using the same hand that tenderly strokes your cheek.

Neither of you could stall it any longer; both of you sought solace in the only person left willing to offer an hour of reprieve: each other. It was Jinx who moved first, ending the last shred of space left between you two to wrap her arms around you into a hug. Her nails digging into the back part of your shirt, Jinx's nostrils flare when she deeply inhales the scent of your vanilla fragrance with a hint of sweat, nestling her face further into your neck. "Just… Don't do that again, Y/N…" She spoke in a hushed tone, her lips slightly parted as the tension in her body melted from the comfort of your body heat.

"It was like.. I had no one when you were gone. You didn't even send me a message."

You couldn't bring yourself to respond, skeptical that your voice would shatter if you were to utter another word again. Your arms are wounded around her waist leaving Jinx's mind empty of anything negative leaving only tranquility you unknowingly bring to her already deteriorating soul. Choosing to gently nod your head as an alternative, your right hand slithering up to lay upon the shaved side of Jinx's head, your other hand moving up to plant itself on the small of her back. "Ha… 'msorry." Your voice was feeble, your breath tickling Jinx's nape.

"Heh, deep down, you're still a softie." A full smile graced her lips, her hold on you unyielding.

YOU ATE

thank you SO SO MUCH this means a lot 💖💕

this is my reaction to seeing this in my inbox:

i keep saying this, but these positive comments make me squeal and enjoy writing. thank you!! ❤️❤️

no cinderella.

summary. singing songs for powder to fall asleep to has become a regular thing for you, and violet seems to appreciate that. cw. young!violet x youngfem!reader, wlw, sugar sweet fluff. wc. 840 cr. young vi gif from arcanegifs on tumblr. notes. this is so cute, i had fun writing this. (⭒  ์ ⲳ ์ ) a bit ashamed that it's awfully short, but i feel it's better this way? ┐(‘～`;)┌ disc. killing me softly

The otherwise dim room that provided an illusion of safety was lit by a single lantern that was left on a wooden table, with dust particles surrounding the warm, orange light emitting from within, behind the lines of metal. The right side of the room has two patchy couches of poor condition accompanied by a barrel with a record player placed on top and that wooden table, the left side of the room was Powder's little corner, a twin sized bed with wooden frames, the same patchy design of the couches were relayed for her blanket.

The couches were deserted except for a single seat sofa, where Violet's slouched body sat, left hand's fingers threaded through the strands of her pink hair, right leg bouncing persistently being left overlooked by her, heel of her shoe tapping against the wooden floor. Her demeanor told a glaringly similar story when compared to what's transpiring behind her skull, steel blue eyes staring off at the orange light in front of her.

You were settled down onto Powder's bed, sitting upright at the edge of it with Powder laid curled up behind you, her small, cold hand a sharp contrast to your palm's warmth and the circular motion of your thumb upon the top of her hand that she found comfort in, she'd open and close her mouth if she were to explain as to why that is– but in the depths of her essence, she knows it's because it brings familiarity to her of someone she held dear. 

Her cheek was smushed onto the blanket, knees held close to her chest. She returned your gaze with a growing smile, eyelids weighed heavy, and she blinked languidly. “Y/n, can you sing that song again?” Voice kindred to a breeze, words expressed openly with a concoction of expectation and knowings. “Which one, Powder? I've sung many.” She lightly groaned in response. “Um..” Her eyes sealed shut, and a quiet moment passed you by.

Soft humming arose from below you, Powder trying to impart the song to you through recollecting the past. “Ah, alright.” You nod your head, clearing your throat, right ankle moving to cross over the other, legs stretched. She stops, waiting patiently with her eyes closed. 

“Strumming my pain with his fingers.” You sing in a whisper, tune unbroken, and with confidence you used to not have regarding your vocals, somewhat deep and smooth like satin. “Singing my life with his words. Killing me softly with his song, killing me softly, with his song. Telling my whole life, with his words, killing me softly, with his song..” Your feet tapped, curating the beat from how you remembered it, and it was without a doubt accurate. 

“I felt all flushed with fever, embarrassed by the crowd, I felt he found my letters, and read each one out loud.” Voice rising slightly at the right time, lashes fluttering shut when you feel that strong wave of passion in you, behind your eyelids, a place for vivid imagination, a single white light from above shining down on you and the stage you stood upon– “He sang as if he knew me, in all my dark despair, and then he looked right through me.” Eyebrows pinching together, channeling those emotions as if it were truly yours. “As if I wasn't there.” – a crowd that harmonized with you, saying the words you imagined that you crafted and put your sweat and tears into with equal fervor, echoing in your skull. A dream out of reach, fingertips aching, itching to touch that blinding white brilliance in an abyss of black.

That tapping your ears were used to hearing had stopped, you're surprised you even noticed in the first place.

And when you opened your eyes, Violet was gazing back at you, the right corner of her lip was curled upwards, head held up by her closed hand, elbow digging into the armrest of the sofa. Your words went airy for a moment before regaining its stable balance when your ears caught onto her humming. Present, unforgivably supportive, the one who shone the brightest in your front row seats. 

Smiling back at her only makes her face reflect yours. It grows on her. This night was a small breath of fresh air that you'll never let leave your memory bank, rustic lid sealed tight. 

You both finish the song together, Violet mostly humming but tapping in to sing a few words with you every now and then until it has finally come to an end. Violet's eyes drift from yours to check on Powder, you did as well. The little girl was soundly asleep, her hold on your hand had waned long ago, and faint snoring filled the renewed silence.

“Your voice is beautiful.” Violet commented, unhidden sincerity in the way she said it. The same hand she had her head lean onto shifted to scratch the nape of her neck, her other hand lying stagnant on her thigh, upper body leaning back in her seat.

“Thank you, Vi.”

The most frustrating experience as a writer is having a clear vision in your mind of the story you want to tell but being too afraid to put pen to paper for fear of failing to do the story justice. I’m so scared that my actual execution will fail to meet my expectations that I’m paralysed to even start.