luvst4rc0r3

[luvst4rc0r3]

PLEASE LORD I NEED THEM TO RECONCILE

Mary Janes

.˳·˖✶𓆩𓁺𓆪✶˖·˳.☁︎

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿︵

12

(T.W bpd episode towards the end, if that's at all triggering skip Jinx's second POV <3)

Jinx

The bass thrums through the walls, vibrating my bones, and the air reeks of sweat, liquor, and the sharp tang of people pretending they belong here.

Caitlyn Kirammans party.

Fucking fantastic.

I can already feel the chaos simmering, the way the room shifts with every new body that spills in.

I like it here. I thrive on it.

But Y/N? She’s quiet, like she always is. Not her scene, not even close. But she’s here, and that’s all that matters.

She’s standing next to me, like a little wallflower in a sea of jackasses.

We’re close enough that I can feel the tension rolling off her in waves, but neither of us has said a word about it.

We don’t need to.

It’s our thing.

Our secret.

I’m half-focused on Y/N, the way she’s standing there, shoulders pulled in, trying not to get noticed.

She doesn’t belong here, not like this. She’s got a quiet aura, a stark contrast to the noisy, wild energy around us.

But she’s with me, and that’s enough to keep my blood pumping. I can’t let her get lost in the crowd.

Cait and Mel swoop in like vultures, all manicured nails and perfectly placed grins, and before I can stop it, Y/N’s wrist is in Cait’s hand.

She barely has time to glance at me before they’re dragging her away, swallowed by the mass of bodies like she was never even standing next to me in the first place.

I feel my jaw clench, but I don’t move. I could. I could storm after her, could grab her back, could tell Cait to keep her prissy little hands to herself. But I don’t.

Because that’s not how this works.

Instead, I lean back against the wall, tapping my fingers against my thigh. Watching.

Mel says something, and Y/N laughs, but it’s that tight, polite laugh, the one she does when she’s being the good girl everyone expects her to be.

I fucking hate it.

I hate how easy it is for her to put that mask on, to pretend she’s one of them. I wonder if it ever gets exhausting, all that pretending.

Then I hear it.

“Alright, time for a game,” someone calls, and the crowd shifts, bodies pressing in as the living room turns into some kind of makeshift arena.

Great.

I push off the wall, weaving my way closer, close enough to see Y/N standing there, stiff as a damn board, while Cait and Mel laugh like they’ve already won something.

There’s a table in the center, scattered with shot glasses, a deck of cards, a stupid-looking bowl filled with crumpled-up slips of paper.

Truth or dare.

Of course.

I should’ve known Caitlyn and her bougie ass parties wouldn’t settle for anything normal.

I move to the edge of the crowd, close enough that I could step in if I wanted to. But Y/N’s shoulders are squared, her chin lifted just a little.

She’s handling it.

For now.

Mel reaches into the bowl first, plucking a slip and unfolding it like it holds the secrets of the universe. Then she smirks. “Y/N,” she says, her voice silky smooth, like she’s been waiting for this.

Y/N’s fingers twitch at her sides. “Truth.”

The air fucking shifts.

The question hangs, sharp and invasive, like it’s dissecting something private.

Y/N’s breath catches, just for a split second, but it’s enough for me to notice. Her back straightens, and her eyes dart around the room, like she’s looking for an escape.

Like there’s no way out.

I hate the way everyone’s looking at her now, waiting, eager. I hate that I can feel the pressure of their gaze too.

I hate that she’s stuck, caught in this moment where she has to lie or risk her privacy.

She looks at me, just for a breath, and I see it—the panic behind her eyes.

She can’t say it.

She can’t tell them about us.

And I get it.

But that doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt.

“I… I don’t know,” she says finally, voice too steady, too practiced. “I haven’t really had a romantic moment recently.”

The words hit like a punch to the chest. Her voice is steady, but her eyes flicker—flicker—back to me, and I feel it.

It’s a lie.

A lie so heavy I can’t breathe.

Mel’s smile is wide and expectant, but Y/N can��t bring herself to meet it. Instead, she looks down at the floor, as if she’s trying to disappear into it.

The whole room is dead silent, like they’re waiting for her to elaborate. I can feel the weight of their curiosity, the subtle shift in energy. It’s too much. Too fucking much.

I stand there, frozen, while her words wrap around me like a noose. It’s not the truth. It’s not even close.

But I can’t force her to say it.

I won’t make her.

But God, does it hurt.

And then, without a word, Y/N stands up straighter, pasting that smile of hers back on.

It’s weak, like it’s barely holding together, but it’s there. She’s doing what she does best—pretending.

The game moves on, but it doesn’t matter anymore. I can’t shake the feeling that something has shifted.

I can feel the distance between us growing with every breath. And I can’t help but wonder how much longer we can keep pretending.

But I don’t ask. I don’t need to.

I already know the answer.

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿︵‿

Y/N

The weight of the moment lingers like a heavy fog, suffocating everything around me. The game moves on, people laughing, clinking glasses, like nothing’s wrong.

Like I didn’t just shatter something precious. But I feel it. The crack that just split between me and Jinx. The way her eyes—those eyes—refused to meet mine when I lied. When I denied what we were.

I don’t even realize I’m moving until I’m pushing through the crowd, desperate to catch up to her, desperate to fix whatever this is, before it breaks.

She’s already halfway out the door, her shoulders tense, her back a line of defiance. Like she’s preparing to leave. Like she’s already gone.

“Jinx!” I call, my voice a little too sharp, a little too broken, and the moment she hears me, she stops. But she doesn’t turn. She doesn’t give me the satisfaction of seeing her face, not yet.

I can hear her breath catch, feel the walls she’s putting up between us—cold, rigid, like she’s made of stone.

I take a step closer, and the words tumble out before I can stop them. “Jinx, wait. Please.”

She finally turns, but it’s not the way I want. She faces me with that look, the one that says everything’s messed up. That look that makes my chest tighten and my throat close. Her hands are clenched at her sides, her expression unreadable, like she’s afraid I’ll see too much.

“What do you want, Y/N?” Her voice is quiet, too calm, but I hear the edge underneath it, the tremor she’s hiding, and it's almost like my name tastes foul on her lips, there's no honey laced teasing. Just my name, so hollow and empty.

“Please, just let me explain,” I try again, my words tumbling over each other, desperate, pleading. “I didn’t mean it. You know I didn’t—”

“You didn’t mean it?” Her voice breaks, just a little, and I feel the sting of it deep in my chest. Her eyes narrow, and she steps forward, her gaze sharp, cutting through the distance. “You think I’m just some—some experiment to you?”

The words hit like a slap, and I stagger back, the realization sinking in like a weight I can’t shake.

“I didn’t mean it like that, Jinx, I—”

“Don’t.” She cuts me off, her voice low, deadly. “You don’t get to do that. You don’t get to use me when it’s convenient and then act like it’s nothing when things get real.”

Her words are a punch to the gut.

I open my mouth to argue, but nothing comes out. I can’t form the words. Because deep down, she’s right.

“You think I’m just some fucking game, Y/N? Some person you get to play with until you’re bored?” She’s shaking now, her breath ragged, fists clenched so tight her knuckles are white. “I’m not your fucking experiment. I’m not something you get to try out when it suits you and then throw away when it’s inconvenient.”

The hurt in her voice is a raw, jagged thing. It cuts deeper than any insult, any accusation. I want to reach out, to fix it, but I don’t know how.

“You never even told them the truth,” she continues, her voice trembling with rage and pain. “You lied to everyone. You lied to me. And now you’re telling me you didn’t mean it?”

I open my mouth, but the words stick in my throat. I didn’t mean it. But the truth... the truth feels like a weight I can’t bear to carry.

“I didn’t know how to—”

“Exactly,” she snaps. “You never knew how to. You don’t know what it’s like, Y/N, to be someone’s secret. To feel like you’re not even real.”

The words fall between us like shattered glass. And in that moment, I know she’s right. I’ve been so afraid of everything—of us, of the consequences—that I forgot she was real. That she wasn’t just some thing to hide away, tucked into the corners of my life where no one could see.

But now she’s here, raw and real, and she’s done pretending.

“Jinx, I’m sorry. I... I don’t want to lose you. Not like this.”

Her expression softens, just for a moment, but it’s not enough. Not enough to erase the hurt, the feeling that she’s already slipping through my fingers.

“Then stop making me feel like I’m nothing,” she says, her voice small, broken. “I’m not your fucking secret, Y/N. And I’m not some experiment you can toss aside when it gets too hard.”

I stand there, speechless, the weight of her words pressing down on me. And for the first time, I don’t know how to fix it.

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿︵‿

Jinx

“Pow, please, it’s scary—”

Y/N’s face is all scrunched up, like she can’t decide if she’s going to cry or scream, her little hands clutched together like they’re trying to hold herself together. She’s always been like that, so gentle, so careful.

I don’t understand it then. I don’t understand why she’s scared, why she’s pulling away. All I want is to make her laugh, to make her stop being afraid. I just want to see that soft smile, the one she only gives me.

But it’s not happening.

“Don’t be a baby, Y/N.” My voice comes out harsh, too sharp, the kind of thing that cuts when it’s not meant to. But I don’t see it. I can’t see it.

Her lip trembles, and she takes a step back.

“Pow, I—I don’t like it when you do that.”

I laugh, but it’s bitter. “What? You don’t like it when I make you laugh? When I make you feel something?”

She shakes her head, eyes wide, like she’s suddenly seeing me for the first time. It’s like the ground is shifting beneath me, and I don’t know how to stop it.

“Pow…”

I don’t hear her. I’m already moving, already too far gone in my head to care about her feelings. The world around me is spinning, and I’m trapped in it, my thoughts fraying. I want to push her, make her laugh again, make her stop being scared.

But instead, I see it. I see her, backing away from me, her small hands held up like shields, like I’m the thing she’s afraid of.

“Stop,” she whispers, so softly, so quietly, but it cuts deeper than anything she could’ve yelled at me.

And I freeze.

Because I’ve broken her.

“Y/N…”

“I can’t... be your friend anymore, Powder.”

Her words hit harder than any slap. They feel like they’re carving into me, leaving jagged pieces behind.

I open my mouth, but nothing comes out. Nothing that makes sense. I can’t fix it. I can’t make it better.

And she’s already gone.

I watch her walk away, and I can feel the walls closing in. My heart is pounding in my ears, and all I want is to reach out, to stop her, but my legs won’t move.

She’s gone.

And I never knew how to make her stay.

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿︵

The sound of my breathing is jagged—too loud—and I can’t catch it, like I’m suffocating on it.

It’s all I can hear. I’m drowning in it, in every breath that feels too thick, too wrong.

The walls are closing in.

The room is too small.

Too tight.

My chest—fuck—feels like someone’s wrapped their hands around my ribs and is squeezing, squeezing until I can’t take it anymore.

No—

I try to inhale, but my lungs are—they’re full of nothing.

I’m gasping, barely breathing, struggling to get air, struggling to stop my heart from exploding out of my chest.

Stop. Stop. Stop.

The thoughts start coming, jagged, violent, louder and louder, and I can’t escape them.

They’re fucking everywhere, stabbing me in the head like knives, ripping through my mind like a hurricane.

You fucked up. You always fuck up.

She’ll never love you.

I scream—louder, but it’s not enough.

It’s not enough to drown out the voices.

God, it’s not enough.

I can’t think.

I can’t feel anything but this, this overwhelming pressure, this suffocating weight pressing down on me, crushing me, until I’m nothing but a pile of shaking limbs.

I claw at my face, trying to make it stop, but the tears—they won’t stop.

Hot, fast, stinging, falling in streams I can’t control. My skin’s crawling.

I’m so fucking hot, like I’m burning alive, but then I feel cold, too cold, like I’m freezing from the inside out.

I scream again, a primal, ugly sound, and my hands shake so violently that they’re hitting the floor, knocking things over.

I don’t know what’s real anymore.

The walls are spinning. The floor is spinning.

I can’t make it stop.

Why didn’t you say it? Why didn’t you fight for her?

You fucked up.

I’m on my knees now, rocking back and forth, my body jerked with each shudder, each scream, each thought crashing through my skull.

I can’t stop moving. I can’t stop anything.

She doesn’t care.

YOU’RE NOTHING.

I can’t breathe. I clutch my chest, fingers digging into my skin, feeling the panic, the fire, the ice, the suffocating, overwhelming nothing that’s making me fucking disappear.

Why didn’t you just leave her alone?

You don’t matter. You never mattered.

I can’t hold it together. I can’t fix it. I can’t do anything but shake, scream, hurt.

And the voices—they’re fucking louder.

No one loves you!

You're a fucking mess!

I pull at my hair, tears streaming, gasping between sobs, but nothing helps. The world is spinning, and I don’t know what to do. I don’t know how to make it stop.

I scream again, thrashing, but there’s no relief. There’s nothing.

I’m drowning.

I’m drowning.

I close my eyes, wishing I could just stop, wishing I could just disappear. Anything. Anything to make it stop.

But it never does.

It never fucking stops.

.˳·˖✶𓆩𓁺𓆪✶˖·˳.☁︎

authors note: so the honeymoon phase wasn't for long, but there will be a very nice reconciliation

please like and reblog <3

also timebomb fic is out, if you like mary janes so far, it's a similar writing style and setting so go check it out :)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/62833570/chapters/160875787

[luvst4rc0r3]

“Calling the only person she’ll listen to.”

Jinx x F!Reader

WARNINGS: mental health struggles,

WC: 875

NOTE: light angst turns into a happy ending.

The sound of chaos was familiar in Silco’s office, but tonight it had taken a darker turn. The shouts were sharper, the crashes louder, and Jinx’s laughter had turned into something fractured—something unhinged. Sevika leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, scowling at Silco, who stood rigid, his one good eye fixed on the scene.

Jinx was pacing, wild-eyed, tearing apart the room as if she was looking for something only she could see. Her hands trembled around her pistol, her voice rising and falling as she talked to the ghosts that only she could hear. The voices.

“You can’t shut me up!” she screamed, spinning to face Silco, her grin pulling tight, painful. “Why don’t you ever listen? None of you do!”

“I am listening, Jinx,” Silco said, his tone calm but strained. He stepped closer, hand outstretched. “But you need to—”

“SHUT UP!” she screeched, firing into the air. The gunshot rang out, and Sevika flinched.

“That’s it,” Sevika muttered, stepping back into the hall and pulling out her communicator.

Silco shot her a glare. “What are you doing?”

“Calling the only person she’ll listen to.” Sevika’s voice was gruff, but there was an edge of desperation in it. “Unless you want your office burned to the ground.”

Silco didn’t argue.

⊹────⊹ ꯭┄ׁ┄ ʚ͜♡͜ɞ ┄ׁ┄꯭   ⊹────⊹

You’d barely stepped into the building before you were being ushered into Silco’s office by Sevika. Her grip on your shoulder was firm as she muttered, “Fix her. She’s getting worse.”

“Fix her?” you shot back, narrowing your eyes. “She’s not a problem to fix.”

Sevika didn’t respond. She just shoved you through the door and slammed it shut behind you.

The room was a disaster—papers scattered, furniture overturned, scorch marks streaking the walls. And in the middle of it all, Jinx stood, breathing hard, her back to you, gun still in hand.

“Jinx,” you called softly, your voice careful.

She whipped around, her face twisted in fury, but when her eyes landed on you, something flickered. Recognition. Relief. Fear.

“Name?” Her voice cracked, the gun lowering an inch. “What are you—No. No, you shouldn’t be here. It’s not safe.”

“I think I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be,” you said, stepping closer.

Her hand twitched, the barrel of the gun wobbling. “They… they won’t shut up. They keep saying things, bad things. Stuff I don’t want to hear!” She laughed, the sound high and hollow. “They’re in my head, and I can’t… I can’t make them stop.”

Your heart broke at the sight of her. The girl you loved looked so small, so fragile beneath the weight of her own mind.

“I’m here now,” you said gently, taking another step. “You’re not alone, Jinx. Let me help you.”

She shook her head, stumbling back, her free hand clawing at her hair. “You can’t help me! No one can! I’m broken, Y/N, don’t you get that?!”

“You’re not broken,” you said, firm but soft. “You’re hurting. And I love you, Jinx. I’m not going anywhere.”

Her lip trembled, the gun clattering to the floor as she dropped to her knees. She pressed her hands over her ears, squeezing her eyes shut. “I can’t make it stop!”

You closed the distance between you, dropping to your knees in front of her. Gently, you pried her hands from her ears, cupping her face in your palms.

“Look at me, Jinx. Just look at me,” you said.

Her eyes fluttered open, wide and glassy.

“There you are,” you murmured, your thumbs brushing her cheeks. “Focus on me, okay? Forget the voices. Forget Silco. Forget Sevika. It’s just you and me.”

Her breathing hitched, her gaze locked on yours. You could see the storm in her eyes—the fear, the confusion, the anger. But beneath it all, there was trust.

“I’m scared,” she whispered, her voice so small it nearly broke you.

“I know, hun,” you said, leaning your forehead against hers. “But you’re not alone. You’ve got me. Always.”

Her hands trembled as they found your wrists, clutching onto you like a lifeline. Slowly, her breathing evened out, the tension in her shoulders easing.

“You’re here,” she said, as if trying to convince herself.

“I’m here,” you promised. “And I’m not going anywhere.”

The room was silent except for her shaky breaths. The voices seemed to fade, the chaos ebbing away until it was just the two of you, kneeling on the cold floor.

“I hate this,” she murmured, burying her face in your neck. “I hate feeling like this.”

“I know,” you said, wrapping your arms around her. “But you’re stronger than this, Jinx. You’ll get through it. And I’ll be right here with you.”

She clung to you, her grip desperate, as if letting go might send her spiraling again. “Promise?”

“Promise,” you said, pressing a kiss to the top of her head.

⊹────⊹ ꯭┄ׁ┄ ʚ͜♡͜ɞ ┄ׁ┄꯭   ⊹────⊹

Hours passed before Silco and Sevika dared to open the door. They found you sitting on the floor, Jinx curled in your lap, fast asleep.

“She’s okay now,” you said softly, stroking her hair.

Silco nodded, his expression unreadable. Sevika just grunted, stepping aside to let you carry Jinx out.

You didn’t look back. Jinx was safe in your arms, and for now, that was all that mattered.

I HAVE SO MANY MORE DRAFTS TO UPLOAD

I want sleep AND food

[luvst4rc0r3]

POLY!TIMEBOMB MASTERLIST

Poly!Timebomb

Fluff

“Fireworks” - x GN!Reader

Smut

“Time and Chaos” - GN!Reader

TRUST THERE WIILL BE MORE FOR THEM

I NEED FOOD AND SLEEP

[luvst4rc0r3]

JINX MASTERLIST

FLUFF

“Wait What?” Oblivious!Jinx x f!reader

Lovesick!Jinx x GN!Reader

Jinx helping their S/O w/ their periods - x f!reader

“Tangled” - GN!Reader

“Mistletoe Mischief” - X F!Reader

“Sleepy Proposal” - X F!Reader

“Smudged mascara & stolen kisses” - X GN!Reader

“Two pink lines” - XF!Reader

"Playing Dangerous" - X Reader

“Hooked Like a Drug” - GN!Reader

ANGST

“ I don’t wanna be here anymore” - X pregnant!reader - PT.1

PT.2 - “Good things don’t always last forever”- X F!Reader

"Hold Still, Please" - x GN!Reader

“Calling the only person she’ll listen to.” - XF!Reader

“I NEED shimmer” - x f!reader

“Lost in translation” - x f!reader

“Slave” - x F!Reader

Pt.1

Pt.2

Pt.3

Pt.4

Pt.5

SMUT

Jinx x f!reader

TRUST THERE WILL BE MORE FOR HER

I WANT FOOD

[luvst4rc0r3]

EKKO MASTERLIST

FLUFF

“All the weight I’ll ever carry” - X Chubby!Reader

"Hidden in Plain sight" - X F!Reader

TRUST THERE WILL BE MORE FOR HIM

I WANT SLEEP

[luvst4rc0r3]

[luvst4rc0r3]

Sevika Masterlist

FLUFF

“New years kiss” - x GN!Reader

Sevika x Agegap!Reader

Sevika x Agegap!Reader PT.2

“YOU’RE my wife,Sev” - x F!Reader

“Strong enough” - F!Reader

ANGST

"You're Unfixable"- x F!Reader

"Unconditionally Yours" - X Chubby!Reader

“The price of love” - x F!reader

“The price of love” pt.2 - x F!reader

TRUST THERE WILL BE MORE!!!!

[luvst4rc0r3]

"Playing Dangerous"

Police Officer!Jinx x Reader AU: Modern Word Count:1166 Playing Dangerous – Lana Del Rey

⊹────⊹ ꯭┄ׁ┄ ʚ͜♡͜ɞ ┄ׁ┄꯭   ⊹────⊹

The fire was already burning by the time Jinx got there.

Orange flames licked at the night sky, smoke curling into the air as the sirens wailed. People crowded the street, faces illuminated by the flickering glow. But amidst the chaos, you stood perfectly still.

Barefoot. Nightgown slightly singed at the edges. Innocence painted across your face.

Jinx pulled up in her cruiser, stepping out with a measured gaze. You turned, your lips parting just slightly as if you hadn’t noticed the house behind you engulfed in flames.

She clicked her tongue. “Hell of a sight, huh?”

“Everybody knows I'm a good girl, officer” “The house was already on fire, I swear I'm not a liar”

Your eyes were wide. “I swear, I didn’t do it, officer.”

Jinx arched a brow. “Didn’t say you did.”

You tilted your head, lower lip catching between your teeth like you were thinking real hard about something. The fire crackled in the distance, heat pressing against your skin.

“You always work alone so late?”

Jinx scoffed, adjusting the belt at her hip. “What, you worried about me?”

Your lashes fluttered, feigned shyness creeping into your voice. “Just seems a little dangerous, don’t you think?”

Jinx smirked. “I like dangerous.”

The fire roared behind you, but she wasn’t looking at the flames anymore.

She was looking at you.

And you were looking at her like you’d just found your favorite game to play.

⊹────⊹ ꯭┄ׁ┄ ʚ͜♡͜ɞ ┄ׁ┄꯭   ⊹────⊹

Jinx should’ve walked away.

But instead, she was standing in front of you, cuffs in hand, debating whether this was gonna be the best or worst decision of her career.

“Gotta take you in,” she muttered, more to herself than to you.

Your lips curved. “Really?”

“Gosh, I'm a little shy standing here in my nightgown. Do you really have to put those tight handcuffs on?”

She hesitated. Just for a second.

And that second was enough for you to take a small step closer, bare feet pressing against the pavement, body warm despite the cool night air.

Your voice was quiet, teasing. “Do you really have to put those tight handcuffs on me?”

Jinx swallowed. Hard.

Shit.

She shouldn’t be hesitating. She never hesitated.

But then you smiled—sweet and slow, like you knew exactly what you were doing.

“Looking at me, then suddenly”

Jinx exhaled sharply, then spun you around. The cold steel of the cuffs clicked against your wrists, snug but not cruel.

She didn’t miss the way you shivered.

And she definitely didn’t miss the way you whispered, “Guess I’m going for a ride.”

Jinx clenched her jaw, resisting the urge to say something reckless.

“I'm in love, I'm in love Lovin' hurricane I'm in love, I'm in love Love in a hurricane”

But her fingers twitched against your wrists as she led you toward the cruiser, placing you in the backseat.

You shifted slightly, glancing up at her through thick lashes. “You can ask me anything you want, officer.”

Jinx sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Yeah?”

You nodded. “Anything.”

She leaned against the door, staring at you like she was trying to figure you out. “Alright. You got a boyfriend or something?”

You glanced at her hands. “Do you?”

Jinx scoffed, flexing her fingers. “Do I look like the type to settle down?”

Your smile widened. “I don’t see a ring on your finger.”

Jinx’s breath caught. “That’s… interesting.”

You tilted your head. “Have you ever thought of dating a singer?”

Jinx started.

Because, of course, that was what you were.

She remembered it now—your name, your reputation, the way your voice had a tendency to make people feel like they were falling.

She shouldn’t be thinking about this.

She should be driving to the station.

Instead, she muttered, “You’re a damn menace.”

You beamed.

⊹────⊹ ꯭┄ׁ┄ ʚ͜♡͜ɞ ┄ׁ┄꯭   ⊹────⊹

The flames were dying in the distance, but the heat between you hadn’t gone anywhere.

Jinx had driven in circles, never quite making it to the station, never quite making the decision she should have made an hour ago.

And now, here she was.

Parked. Engine idling.

Watching you in the rearview mirror like you were some kind of problem she didn’t want to solve.

You shifted in the backseat, nightgown slipping off one shoulder as you smirked. “So, what happens now?”

Jinx exhaled, running a hand through her messy blue hair. “That’s a damn good question.”

You leaned forward slightly, eyes twinkling. “You know, it’s kind of exciting, don’t you think?”

Jinx arched a brow. “What is?”

You shrugged. “All of this.”

She tilted her head. “You get off on breaking the law or something?”

“The flames are getting higher, so's my desire It's kind of exciting, don't you think?”

You smiled lazily, resting your chin on your shoulder. “Only when it comes with perks.”

Jinx snorted, shaking her head. “You’re insane.”

Your voice dipped lower, soft and smooth. “Love is strange.”

Jinx froze.

You leaned in just a little closer, whispering like you were telling a secret. “Sometimes it makes you crazy.”

Jinx swallowed.

“It can burn…”

Your fingers ghosted over your own wrist, where her cuffs still held you captive.

“…or break you.”

Jinx sucked in a sharp breath. “You tryna tell me something, doll?”

You smiled, slow and knowing. “You tell me, officer.”

⊹────⊹ ꯭┄ׁ┄ ʚ͜♡͜ɞ ┄ׁ┄꯭   ⊹────⊹

She shouldn’t be doing this.

But then again, Jinx never did what she should do.

“Then suddenly he's(she's) uncuffing me”

Her fingers brushed against yours as she unlocked the cuffs, metal clinking softly in the quiet.

Your breath hitched as you rubbed your wrists, staring up at her with something dangerous flickering in your eyes.

And then, before she could stop herself—before she could think too hard about what the hell she was doing—Jinx grabbed your chin, tilting your face up.

“If you can’t stand the heat…” she murmured, voice husky.

Your lips parted. “Then stay out of the fire.”

Jinx leaned in, her breath warm against your cheek.

Your voice barely wavered. “You might get what you desire, officer.”

Jinx smirked. “Maybe I already have.”

Then, she kissed you.

It was reckless and messy, all teeth and tongue and heat. You gasped against her lips, hands flying to her jacket, pulling her in like you needed this. Like you needed her.

“I’ve been bad, I've been wrong Playing a dangerous game I'm in love, I'm in love Lovin' hurricane, hurricane, hurricane”

Jinx’s grip tightened, fingers curling around your waist as she pressed you against the leather seat.

You tilted your head back, whispering breathlessly, “Sometimes love makes you crazy.”

Jinx bit her lip, eyes dark. *“Yeah? Well, you’re makin’ me fuckin’ insane.”

You laughed, fingers threading through her blue hair. “Good.”

And just like that…

The game was over.

And you’d both lost.

Or maybe—just maybe—you’d won.

I'm trying to upload and finish ALL of my drafts (Like 10 of em)

I want sleep

[luvst4rc0r3]

I'm gonna need a good ending where Jinx and r have the baby and live happily ever after because that last ask fucked me up😭😭😭😭

it is posted!!!!

[luvst4rc0r3]

Your “I don’t wanna be here anymore.”

It was super interesting.

And also made me cry😭😭

Can you write a happy ending for it?

TY if you do

It is posted

[luvst4rc0r3]

same anon who requested the miscarriage story, time skip forward and just who stumbles into the scene? the miracle herself, isha, needing a home and love that jinx and reader were so desperate to give their baby.

It is posted!!

[luvst4rc0r3]

I NEED CHAPTER 12

Mary Janes

.˳·˖✶𓆩𓁺𓆪✶˖·˳.☁︎

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿︵

11

Y/N

Blue is the first thing that greets me when my eyes flutter open.

Soft, hazy in the morning light, but still unmistakably her. Strands of it spill across my pillow, tangled from sleep, glowing faintly in the pale dawn. I stare at them for a moment, dazed, my brain sluggish as it pieces together where I am—where we are.

Jinx lies beside me, her face half-buried in my pillow, her breath slow and steady, each inhale a soft rhythm. She looks... peaceful. It's a rare sight, this stillness, as if the storm that usually swirls inside her has momentarily calmed. Something quieter has settled over her, something fragile and unspoken, and it wraps around my chest, tightening in a way I don’t know how to name.

The warmth of the covers contrasts sharply with the chill creeping in from the window we forgot to close, the air cool against my skin. I shift, just slightly, and the movement pulls her from slumber. A quiet sound escapes her, a murmured sigh, content and dream-soft. She stretches, limbs sprawling lazily, like the world is hers to claim.

Then, with a suddenness that jolts the air, one of her eyes cracks open. That signature, lopsided grin creeps across her face. "Hi," she murmurs, her voice still thick with sleep.

I can’t help the small laugh that escapes me, a little breathless, a little shy. "Morning."

Jinx scoots closer, the movement effortless and easy. Her body curls toward mine, warm and inviting. She presses her forehead to mine, eyes fluttering closed again as she sighs, content.

“Did you sleep well?” she asks, her voice almost lazy, a sharp contrast to the usual electric buzz in it. There’s something grounding in her tone now, as if the chaos has softened for a moment.

"Yeah," I answer quietly, the words wrapped in the peace of the moment. "I think so."

She hums in satisfaction, then shifts slightly, tucking herself further under the covers. Her fingers trace random patterns on my arm, slow and deliberate. It’s the kind of touch that makes everything feel warmer, safer—so different from the usual frenzy of her.

"You’re cute when you’re all sleepy," she teases, the grin curling back on her lips, but it’s softened by the tenderness in her eyes. “I like you like this.”

My breath catches in my throat, the warmth from her words spreading across my chest. “Yeah?”

She nods, her face burrowing deeper into my pillow, her hand never leaving mine. “Yeah. You look like you actually know how to relax for once.” She chuckles, a soft sound that makes my heart skip.

I squeeze her hand lightly, feeling the weight of the moment settle over me. “Maybe I’ll have to get used to it.”

Her laughter softens, turning into something quieter, more affectionate. Her eyes search mine, like she's seeing me in a way she doesn’t often let herself. The air is thick with unspoken words, both of us caught in this small, fragile bubble of peace, and for a moment, I wish we could stay here forever. Just her, just me, no complications, no rush.

She presses her lips to mine again, soft and sweet, nothing like the wild, feverish way she usually kisses me. This is slower, lingering—like she’s trying to memorize the shape of my lips against hers.

I sigh into it, my hand coming up to cup her cheek, my thumb brushing over the faint smudge of last night’s lipstick. She melts into me, her body curling even closer, tangling her legs with mine beneath the blankets.

When she pulls back, just enough to rest her forehead against mine, her breath warm against my lips, she hesitates.

Her fingers drum against my hip, tapping out a rhythm I can’t quite place. She’s quiet for a beat—long enough that I almost miss it when she murmurs, “Was I… y’know. Okay?”

It’s so uncharacteristic of her that it nearly knocks the breath from my lungs. Jinx, who never falters, who moves through life with the kind of reckless certainty I can only dream of, is suddenly uncertain.

It’s oddly, achingly endearing.

I study her, the way she chews her bottom lip, the way her brows pull together like the answer actually matters to her. Like I matter. The thought tugs at something deep in my chest, something warm and fragile and terrifyingly real.

I don’t speak at first—just reach up, brushing a stray strand of blue from her face before cupping her cheek. My thumb glides over her bottom lip, gently. “You were perfect,” I whisper, pressing my lips to the corner of her mouth.

She exhales, a slow, almost imperceptible release of tension. Relief, maybe. Or something softer, something she’s not quite sure how to hold.

And then—because she’s Jinx, because she can’t let a moment be too tender—her grin stretches wide and wicked. “Yeah, I am pretty amazing, huh?”

I huff a laugh, rolling my eyes, but she’s already tackling me back into the pillows, giggling against my neck.

“You love it,” she accuses, her breath warm against my skin.

And maybe, just maybe—I do.

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿︵‿

Jinx

The amount of hickeys currently littered over my body is ridiculous. Like, truly absurd.

Summer’s rolling in, which means less layers, which means I’m officially screwed.

I twist in front of the mirror, tugging at the collar of my tank top like that’s gonna help.

Nope. There’s one just below my collarbone, another peeking out from my shoulder, and—goddamn, is that one on my ribs?

I grin.

Y/N, my sweet, soft-spoken, rule-following girl, did all that.

It’s always the quiet ones.

I toss my head back and groan dramatically, flopping onto my bed like some tragic heroine. Because, really—how the hell am I supposed to hide all this?

A week.

It’s been a week since that night, since I had her trembling beneath me, since I learned just how many sweet little sounds I could pull from her lips.

Since I left my mark on her in more ways than one.

And now? Now I’m the one walking around looking like I lost a fight with a goddamn vacuum.

I press my fingers over one of the deeper bruises, feeling the dull thrum of pain beneath my touch.

A shiver rolls down my spine—not from the soreness, but from the memory of how it got there.

Y/N, all breathless and desperate, her hands gripping at me like she was afraid I’d slip through her fingers.

Holy shit.

I slap both hands over my face and groan again, kicking my legs against the mattress. I’m so screwed.

A knock at the window has my head snapping up. I already know who it is before I even turn. No one else ever comes through there.

Sure enough, when I peek over my shoulder, Y/N is crouched on the fire escape, her brows furrowed like she’s debating whether or not this was a stupid idea.

I scramble up immediately, all my previous suffering forgotten.

Because, yeah, I may be covered in evidence of her complete and utter corruption, but I missed her. And I get the feeling she missed me too.

I unlatch the window, pulling it open just enough to smirk at her. “What’s this, toots? Breaking and entering?”

I watch as Y/N tries to climb through the window, but the second she puts her foot down, she wobbles—damn, those Mary Janes. Not exactly made for stealthy, graceful moves.

She catches herself on the windowsill, her cheeks flushing in that way that makes me want to laugh and kiss the crap out of her at the same time.

“Okay, maybe not my best idea,” she mutters, straightening up and brushing her hands down her skirt.

That short skirt.

The one that seems to get shorter every time she moves.

It’s a little too much, a little too tempting, but then she looks at me with those wide eyes, all innocent but somehow not, and I forget all the thoughts that might have made sense a moment ago.

I step closer, feeling the air between us grow thicker.

There’s something electric about how she’s standing there, caught in the tension of the moment—still a little off-balance, but all too aware of how her skirt clings to her body, the way her fingers play at the fabric, trying to smooth it down.

It only makes me want to see more, make it all a little messier.

“You know,” I say softly, the smirk tugging at my lips as I reach out to steady her, my fingers brushing her waist, "I think you might need some help."

Her breath catches, the heat between us igniting, and her lips part like she wants to say something, but the words die in her throat.

Instead, she lets me guide her closer, and before I can second-guess it, I pull her in, lips crashing against hers.

It’s frantic at first—rushed, desperate.

My hands tangle in her hair, the world outside forgotten as we melt into each other.

Her lips are soft but insistent, her hands grip my shirt like she’s trying to anchor herself to me, and god, I want to drown in this.

She pulls away just enough to catch her breath, and her eyes meet mine, darker now, full of something I can’t name. The silence stretches between us, but it's not uncomfortable, not at all.

Then she’s back against me, pressing her body into mine like she can’t get close enough.

Her skirt rides up just a little more as she shifts, and I swear, it’s like the world shrinks down to this moment—just her and me.

.˳·˖✶𓆩𓁺𓆪✶˖·˳.☁︎

authors note: mini chapter again, they're in their honeymoon phase, which is the sweetest ;)

please like and reblog <3

[luvst4rc0r3]

"You're Unfixable"

Sevika x F!Reader

Warnings: Mentions of murder

WC:2637

Note: I'll probably write more of like kinda domainat reader.

The Undercity was your domain. Not in the way Silco owned it, nor in the way Sevika enforced it, but in the way the people breathed your name with respect. You were the one who smoothed conflicts, negotiated between the chem-barons, and ensured that Zaun’s businesses thrived without unnecessary bloodshed. Your reputation preceded you, and when you started dating Sevika, it only solidified your status. People admired the way you handled her—how the feared enforcer softened in your presence, how her rough edges smoothed when your hands found hers.

For years, it was you and Sevika against the world, a love written in steel and smoke, carved into the bones of the Undercity. Until the fight.

It had started with another one of her injuries. Another night where she stumbled into your shared space, blood staining her vest, the acrid smell of smoke and whiskey clinging to her like a second skin. You had tried to clean her wounds, but she pushed you away, snapping at you with a venom she usually reserved for her enemies.

"I can take care of myself," she growled, wrenching her arm out of your grasp.

"Really? Because it doesn’t fucking look like it," you shot back, frustration bubbling to the surface. "Every night, Sevika. Every goddamn night you come home looking like you just fought half of Zaun. When is it going to be enough?"

She scoffed, throwing her jacket onto the floor. "This is what I do. You knew that when you got with me. You think you can change me now?"

"I’m not trying to change you," you said, voice tight with barely restrained anger. "I’m trying to keep you alive. But you don’t care about that, do you? You just keep throwing yourself into fights like you have nothing to lose."

Her expression darkened, something unreadable flashing behind her eyes. "Maybe I don’t."

The words hit like a slap to the face. Your breath hitched, and for a moment, all you could do was stare at her. "That’s bullshit. You have me."

Sevika looked away, jaw tightening. "Maybe that’s the problem."

Silence. Heavy and suffocating. The weight of her words settled in your chest like a stone.

"What the hell does that mean?" your voice was quieter now, but no less sharp.

She ran a hand down her face, exhaling sharply. "It means I can’t do this. I can’t—" She gestured vaguely, frustration evident in every motion. "I can’t be who you want me to be. I can’t be someone who comes home every night and lets you clean me up like some wounded dog. I don’t want to be your fucking project."

Your heart clenched, anger and hurt intertwining. "That’s not what this is. I love you, Sevika. But I can’t keep watching you destroy yourself."

"Then maybe you shouldn’t watch," she said, voice rough, final.

That was the moment it broke. You stared at her, waiting for her to take it back, to say something—anything—that would fix it. But she didn’t. She just stood there, arms crossed, breathing hard.

So you nodded, stepping back. "Fine. If that’s what you want."

You turned before she could see the tears threatening to spill over, grabbing your coat and walking out the door.

It should have ended there.

⊹────⊹꯭┄ׁ┄ ʚ͜♡͜ɞ ┄ׁ┄꯭   ⊹────⊹

The Last Drop was alive with the usual chaos—smoke curling into the air, the clinking of glasses, the low murmur of voices thick with rumors. But something was different tonight. There was a weight in the air, a tension so palpable that even the usual rowdy crowd was subdued.

Because you were here.

And because she was, too.

Sevika sat slouched at her usual table, a bottle half-empty beside her, playing a slow, methodical game of cards. She had the same casual arrogance, the same aura of untouchable strength. And yet, she looked different. Worn down.

You’d heard the stories.

“She’s been taking fights she doesn’t need to.” “She nearly killed a guy the other night.” “The businesses are scared—she’s reckless now.”

Sevika was spiraling. She was more violent, more reckless. She started throwing punches when words would have sufficed, collecting debts in blood rather than coin. The Last Drop was quieter when she was around—patrons watching her warily, businesses whispering their fears behind closed doors. And when word finally reached you that some were considering taking their business elsewhere to avoid her wrath.

You hadn’t wanted to care. Not after everything that happened. Not after the fight—the one that ended it all.

But then, people started coming to you.

Shopkeepers, gang leaders, even those who normally wouldn’t dare speak your name with anything but reverence. They weren’t just concerned. They were afraid.

And Sevika? She was still acting like none of it mattered.

You strode across the room, not bothering to hide your presence. The moment you stepped forward, the bar quieted. Conversations dulled, glances were exchanged.

She had to have heard the shift in the room. Had to have felt the way the air turned electric with something old, something unfinished.

But she didn’t acknowledge it. Didn’t acknowledge you.

She only took a slow drink from her glass, her other hand lazily rolling a poker chip between her fingers.

You reached the table. Stopped. Stared.

Still, she ignored you.

Fine.

You grabbed the chair opposite her and turned it around, straddling it as you leaned forward, elbows on the backrest. "Heard you’ve been causing trouble."

A flicker of something passed through her expression, but she didn’t look up. "Heard you’ve been busy," she muttered. "Didn’t think you gave a shit about what I do anymore."

Your fingers curled into the wood of the chair. "I don’t. But the people in Zaun do."

Sevika exhaled through her nose, finally setting her cards down in a slow, deliberate movement. When she lifted her gaze, it was as sharp as a blade. "The people in Zaun are cowards."

"They’re scared," you corrected. "And you’re giving them a damn good reason to be."

Something in her jaw tightened. She grabbed her drink and downed the rest of it before slamming the glass on the table.

"Why are you really here?" she asked, voice low.

Your throat tightened.

Because I still care. Because I can’t stand watching you fall apart. Because, despite everything, I still—

You forced your voice to stay level. "Because you’re making a mess, Sevika. And it’s my mess to clean up, too, whether I like it or not."

A humorless chuckle left her lips.

"You always did love trying to fix me," she murmured.

"Yeah?" you shot back, voice sharp. "Well, turns out you’re unfixable."

Silence.

The words sat between you, raw and ugly, scraping against the unspoken things you never dared say out loud.

Her fingers flexed, the metal of her prosthetic clicking. "I never asked you to fix me."

"No," you agreed. "But you liked it when I tried."

The room around you was silent now, the entire bar watching, waiting.

Sevika leaned back in her chair, exhaling sharply as she raked a hand through her hair. "You think I’m reckless?" she muttered. "You don’t know the half of it."

"Then tell me."

Her eyes darkened. "Why would I?"

"Because I’m the only one here who actually gives a shit."

A muscle in her jaw twitched. Then, suddenly, she was pushing to her feet. The motion was abrupt enough to send her chair scraping back, the sound splitting through the silence like a gunshot.

"If you cared so much," she murmured, voice dangerously quiet, "you wouldn’t have left."

You clenched your fists.

"And if you cared," you shot back, "you wouldn’t have given me a reason to."

The words cracked like a whip.

For a moment, neither of you moved.

Then Sevika let out a breath, shaking her head. "I can’t do this."

"You don’t have a choice."

That was the final straw.

In the blink of an eye, she was right in front of you, close enough that you could see the faint scar over her lip, the way her pulse hammered against her throat.

"You think you can just walk back in here and tell me how to act?" she growled.

"You think I want to be here?" you shot back, standing up to meet her glare head-on.

"Then leave."

"Then stop giving me a reason to stay!"

The air between you was thick, charged. Her breath was ragged, her fingers curled into fists at her sides.

You hated this. Hated the way she still got under your skin, the way she made you feel like you were standing at the edge of a cliff, seconds away from falling.

And then—

She laughed. A low, bitter sound.

"You want me to stop?" she murmured, voice dropping into something slow and dangerous. "Make me."

A challenge.

A dare.

Something in your chest snapped.

Before you could think better of it, your hands fisted into the collar of her shirt, yanking her forward.

The kiss was brutal.

Teeth. Tongue. Desperation.

A gasp rippled through the bar, but you didn’t care.

Because Sevika was grabbing you, pulling you closer like she couldn’t stand the space between you, her grip firm and demanding.

You weren’t sure if it was love or hate that drove you back into her arms. Maybe both. Maybe neither.

But for now, it was something.

And something was enough.

⊹────⊹ ꯭┄ׁ┄ ʚ͜♡͜ɞ ┄ׁ┄꯭   ⊹────⊹

Weeks Later

It didn’t happen all at once.

The morning after the fight at The Last Drop, you half-expected Sevika to go back to her old ways—to keep spiraling, keep breaking everything in her path. But something had shifted that night.

She stopped picking unnecessary fights. Stopped tearing through the undercity like she had nothing left to lose.

And yet, she didn’t come to you, either.

Not at first.

Instead, she lingered in the spaces between—silent acknowledgments, brief glances when you crossed paths in the streets, a cigarette burning between her fingers outside the places she knew you’d pass by. She was waiting. Waiting for a sign that she hadn’t fucked things up beyond repair.

You gave her nothing.

Because for all the years you had spent loving her, you weren’t sure you could let yourself do it again.

Not yet.

But the city had a way of bringing you back together.

The first time you spoke again after that night, it wasn’t planned. You had been walking home when you saw her standing outside one of the local businesses—a small apothecary, one of the few places in Zaun that still tried to heal instead of harm.

Sevika was talking to the owner. Not threatening, not demanding—just talking. Her posture was stiff, like she was forcing herself to be something she wasn’t used to being.

You didn’t say anything as you approached, but the moment she saw you, something flickered across her face. A hesitation. A question.

You ignored it. Kept walking.

It became a pattern.

A week later, she showed up at a bar you frequented—nowhere near The Last Drop, just some quiet place in the back alleys of Zaun. She didn’t sit with you, didn’t talk to you. Just sat a few seats away, nursing a drink and letting you be the one to decide if you wanted to close the distance.

You didn’t.

The next time, she did speak.

“You still hate me?” she asked, voice rough, like the words didn’t fit right in her mouth.

You exhaled, staring at the glass in your hand. “Hating you would be easier.”

Sevika didn’t say anything to that. Just nodded, like she understood.

And maybe she did.

Because she knew better than anyone that love was never the problem between you. It was everything else. The recklessness. The pride. The way you both dug knives into old wounds when the fighting got bad.

But something was different now.

She was trying. Really trying. And for Sevika, that meant something.

So, after weeks of silence, of dancing around each other like two planets caught in the same orbit, you made a choice.

One night, you found her in the same bar she had been haunting. You sat next to her without a word, grabbed the cigarette from between her fingers, and took a drag like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Sevika froze.

You let the silence stretch before finally saying, “You buying the next round or what?”

For a second, she just looked at you, eyes sharp, guarded. And then, slowly, she smirked.

That night, you talked. Not about the past—not yet—but about other things. Business. The state of Zaun. Little things that didn’t matter but made all the difference.

And little by little, the space between you closed.

Some nights, she walked you home. She never asked to come inside, just stood outside your door, hands shoved in her pockets like she wasn’t sure what to do with herself.

One night, you lingered in the doorway, watching the way the streetlights cast shadows across her face.

“You don’t have to do this,” you murmured.

“Do what?”

“Pretend you’re different.”

Something in her gaze darkened. “I’m not pretending.”

You swallowed. “Then why now?”

She hesitated. Then, quietly—so quietly you almost didn’t hear it—she said, “Because losing you was the worst thing I’ve ever done.”

You inhaled sharply.

For once, you had no sharp retort. No clever response. Just the sound of your heartbeat, too loud in your ears.

Sevika exhaled through her nose, shaking her head. “Forget it.”

She turned to leave.

And before you could stop yourself, your fingers curled around her wrist.

She stilled.

The weight of years settled between you.

“…Don’t go,” you said, voice barely above a whisper.

Sevika turned back toward you, searching your face for something—permission, forgiveness, maybe even hope.

You didn’t know what she found, but when she stepped closer, when she reached up to brush her fingers against your jaw, you didn’t stop her.

It wasn’t perfect.

There were still fights. Still nights when old scars reopened and words turned into weapons.

But then there were the quiet moments.

The mornings where Sevika stayed in bed longer than she used to, arm slung over your waist, her face buried in your neck like she was afraid you’d disappear if she let go.

The nights where she let you trace the scars across her back, fingers gentle against old wounds.

The moments where she looked at you like you were something holy—like she was still trying to believe she had been given a second chance.

The nights where Sevika sat beside you on the couch, her arm slung across the backrest in a way that left just enough space between you for her to pretend like she wasn’t waiting for you to close it.

The mornings where she let you run your fingers over the rough edges of her prosthetic, watching you with something unreadable in her gaze.

The nights where, half-asleep and tangled together in the dark, she murmured things she’d never dare say aloud in the daylight.

“You’re the only thing that ever made sense to me.”

“I don’t know how to be anything other than this.”

“I wanted to be better for you. I still do.”

And maybe that was enough.

Maybe love didn’t have to be perfect to be worth fighting for.

Maybe it was enough to choose each other.

Maybe you didn’t have to fix each other—maybe it was enough just to be there, to try.

So, when she pulled you in one night—arms wrapped tight around you like she was afraid you’d slip away again—you let yourself sink into it.

Because for all the chaos, for all the hurt and history and the bruises love had left on both of you—

Sevika had always been home.

And this time, neither of you were walking away.

This story is kinda nice

[luvst4rc0r3]

HII so idk what's going on with the whole pregnant reader thing but I feel like u stabbed me bcz why u gotta make it so sad😭 but I thought about the idea that after reader's miscarriage and Jinx takes in Isha, she gets a taste of what it's like to be a mom and it gives her the hope to try again. But then after Isha dies, everything all goes to shit again (events of act 3 play out), but then after Jinx gets out of jail and teams up with Ekko, she goes to reader and says something like "once this is all over, we're getting out of here." And they move to bildgewater together and have an actual child there in a more healthy and happy space :)) maybe for a time skip part but idk lol, anyway just thought I'd leave this here!! Live laugh love Jinx

request: Your “I don’t wanna be here anymore.”

It was super interesting.

And also made me cry😭😭

Can you write a happy ending for it?

TY if you do

request:I'm gonna need a good ending where Jinx and r have the baby and live happily ever after because that last ask fucked me up😭😭😭😭

"But good things don’t always last forever"

Jinx x F!Reader

WARNINGS: DEATH, MENTIONS OF MISCARRIAGE!! WC: 3165

NOTE: erm I hope yall are ok now.

Summary: After a heartbreaking miscarriage, you fall into despair, but Jinx—determined to bring light back into your life—unexpectedly finds a little girl named Isha, who needs a family just as much as you both do.

PT.1

⊹────⊹ ꯭┄ׁ┄ ʚ͜♡͜ɞ ┄ׁ┄꯭   ⊹────⊹

The hideout was quiet. Too quiet.

Jinx hated it.

She sat on the edge of the bed, bouncing her leg as she watched you, curled up with your back to her, shoulders trembling under the blanket. You’d barely moved in hours. Days. It felt like weeks.

Jinx wasn’t great with words, but she knew that whatever she said wouldn’t make it better. The grief sat heavy between you, thick and suffocating. She wanted to tear it apart, blow it up, do something—but this wasn’t something she could fix with bombs or bullets.

So, she stayed. As much as she wanted to run from feelings, from pain, she stayed.

She reached out, brushing her fingers over your arm.

“Hey, toots…” Her voice was softer than usual. Hesitant. “Y’wanna get outta here? Just for a bit?”

You didn’t answer. Didn’t even stir.

Jinx sighed. She pressed a quick kiss to your shoulder before getting up.

“I’ll be back,” she muttered.

You didn’t respond.

Jinx wandered the streets of Zaun, hands stuffed in her pockets, trying to ignore the ache in her chest. She hated seeing you like that. Hated knowing there was nothing she could do to take away your pain.

She needed to find something. Something that could help.

It had been weeks since everything fell apart—since the baby was gone. Since your heart had shattered into something unrecognizable. You barely left the bed, barely ate, barely breathed.

Jinx never said it, but you knew it scared her.

She’d always been the reckless one, the impulsive one, the wild one. But now, you were the one slipping away.

And Jinx? She didn’t know how to stop it.

So, she did what she always did when the world felt like too much. She ran.

Jinx wasn’t looking for a kid.

She was looking for a fight, for trouble—something, anything to pull her out of her head. Out of you and the way you wouldn’t even look at her anymore.

But what she found was a girl.

Small. Filthy. Silent.

Fell on top of her while some guys chased her.

Once Jinx shot off the guys she crouched in front of her, frowning.

“Hey, shorty. What’s your deal?”

No answer.

The girl just stared.

Jinx clicked her tongue. “Oh, great. You’re broken too.”

Still nothing.

Jinx was about to leave—she wasn’t in the business of picking up strays—but then she saw it.

A fresh bruise, deep and purple, blooming along the girl’s cheek.

Jinx’s stomach twisted.

“…Shit.”

She wasn’t good at this stuff. She wasn’t you. But you… you would’ve stopped. You would’ve helped.

And maybe, just maybe, if she brought this kid home, you’d look at her again.

Jinx sighed, rubbing the back of her neck.

“follow me or not. I don’t care”

She followed.

She studied the kid. Dirty, scared, alone. Just like she used to be.

Maybe… maybe this was it. The something she’d been looking for.

⊹────⊹ ꯭┄ׁ┄ ʚ͜♡͜ɞ ┄ׁ┄꯭   ⊹────⊹

You didn’t know what to think when Jinx came home with her.

You sat up in bed, blinking blearily as Jinx strolled in, dragging a small, silent child behind her.

“Babe, meet Isha. Isha, meet Babe.” Jinx grinned like this was normal. Like she hadn’t just brought home a whole person.

You just stared.

“…What?”

Jinx flopped onto the bed beside you, throwing an arm over your waist.

“She fell on me. Didn’t say a word. Figured, y’know, she could use some better company. We could use some better company.”

You looked at the child.

She was thin. Too thin. Her hands were curled into tight little fists, her lips pressed together in an unreadable line. She looked… wary. Not scared, not trusting. Just waiting.

For what, you weren’t sure.

But you knew that feeling.

Jinx sighed against your shoulder. “You’re not mad, are ya?”

You swallowed. No. You weren’t mad.

You were just… tired.

But when you looked at Isha—really looked at her—something deep inside you cracked.

Maybe it was the way she wouldn’t meet your eyes. Maybe it was the way she stood, stiff and defensive, like she expected you to tell her to leave.

Or maybe it was the way, despite all of it, she still stayed.

“…She can stay,” you murmured.

Jinx made a triumphant noise.

Isha didn’t react.

But when you got up and grabbed a blanket, draping it over her tiny shoulders, she didn’t flinch away.

That was enough.

For now.

⊹────⊹ ꯭┄ׁ┄ ʚ͜♡͜ɞ ┄ׁ┄꯭   ⊹────⊹

The first few days were quiet.

Isha barely made a sound. You barely spoke. Jinx bounced between watching you both like a hawk and blowing things up in the dead of night, like movement could stop her from thinking too hard.

But, slowly, something shifted.

It started small.

You’d wake up in the morning, roll over, and instead of being met with an empty bed, you’d find Isha sitting on the floor, drawing.

She wasn’t great at it—her little hands were too shaky, the colors smeared—but it was something.

And for the first time in what felt like forever, you wanted to do something, too.

So, one day, you sat beside her.

She tensed—always waiting for rejection—but when you picked up a crayon and started drawing next to her, she hesitated. Then, slowly, she handed you a blue one.

That was the first good day.

Jinx practically vibrated with excitement when she saw the two of you, sprawled out on the floor, doodling nonsense.

“Holy shit, progress!” she cheered, flopping onto your back. “Babe, you’re alive again!”

You snorted, nudging her playfully.

“This is a miracle!” Jinx gasped dramatically, clutching her chest. “Someone get me a camera—this belongs in the history books!”

Isha watched Jinx’s antics with wide eyes, and when you turned to her, you swore you saw something flicker on her face.

Something close to a smile.

⊹────⊹ ꯭┄ׁ┄ ʚ͜♡͜ɞ ┄ׁ┄꯭   ⊹────⊹

You couldn’t sleep much anymore.

ever since everything.

And tonight? Tonight was bad.

She woke up to the sound of you breathing too fast, fingers twitching in your sleep.

She didn’t hesitate.

Sliding closer, she brushed your fingers through your hair, pressing a soft kiss to your temple.

“Babydoll,” she murmured. “Wake up, love.”

you gasped awake, eyes darting wildly until they landed on her.

She didn’t say anything. Just held you.

Your arms wrapped around you tight—desperate, grounding—and for a while, you both  just stayed like that.

Then, small movement.

You looked up.

Isha stood in the doorway, blanket clutched in her hands, staring with wide, uncertain eyes.

Jinx let out a breath, forcing a smirk. “Hey, shortstack. Couldn’t sleep either, huh?”

Isha hesitated, then shook her head.

You lifted the blanket, silently inviting her in.

For a moment, she stayed frozen. Then, carefully, she climbed onto the bed, curling up between you both.

Jinx snorted. “Well, well. Looks like we’re officially outnumbered.”

You chuckled, pressing a kiss to Isha’s hair.

And for the first time in forever, you slept through the night, peacefully.

⊹────⊹ ꯭┄ׁ┄ ʚ͜♡͜ɞ ┄ׁ┄꯭   ⊹────⊹

It started with a rainy day.

Zaun’s skies were always grim, but today, the rain came in heavy, flooding the alleyways and making the apartment feel even smaller.

Isha sat by the window, watching raindrops race down the glass. Her little fingers traced them, following each droplet with quiet concentration.

Jinx groaned dramatically, sprawled upside down on the couch, legs hanging over the backrest. “I’m bored.”

You smirked, looking up from your book. “And whose fault is that?”

“Yours,” she shot back immediately, flipping onto her stomach. “Entertain me.”

You rolled your eyes. “Not my job.”

Jinx gasped, hand over her heart. “Wow. Rude.” Then, she perked up, eyes gleaming. “Wait. I got it.”

She jumped to her feet, startling Isha, who turned and blinked.

“Pillow fort.” Jinx grinned, pointing dramatically at you. “Right now.”

You raised a brow. “Aren’t we a little old for—”

Jinx was already tearing cushions off the couch.

Isha watched her with wide, curious eyes.

Jinx caught her staring and grinned. “Whaddya think, shortstack? Wanna help?”

Isha hesitated. Then, slowly, she nodded.

Jinx let out a victorious whoop! and tossed a blanket over her head. “Welcome to the chaos, kid!”

You couldn’t help but smile.

Within half an hour, the living room was transformed.

Blankets draped over chairs, cushions stacked like castle walls, fairy lights strung across the ceiling. It was warm, cozy, perfect.

Isha crawled inside, eyes wide as she ran her hands over the soft fabric.

Jinx flopped down beside her, arms behind her head. “Not bad, huh?”

You sat across from them, watching as Isha slowly, carefully, curled up between you both.

For the first time all day, she relaxed.

Jinx smirked, nudging you playfully. “See? Told you it was a good idea.”

You chuckled, shaking your head. “Alright, fine. You win.”

Jinx puffed out her chest. “Damn right I do.”

Isha watched your banter, something soft in her expression. Then—carefully, hesitantly—she reached out and took your hand.

Your breath caught.

She turned to Jinx, then did the same.

Jinx’s eyes widened.

Neither of you spoke.

You just squeezed her tiny hands, warmth blooming in your chest as the rain pattered softly outside.

⊹────⊹ ꯭┄ׁ┄ ʚ͜♡͜ɞ ┄ׁ┄꯭   ⊹────⊹

It started with Jinx.

Because of course it did.

She thought it would be hilarious to put blue dye in your shampoo.

You stepped out of the bathroom, dripping wet, staring at her with murderous intent.

Jinx, sprawled on the couch with Isha in her lap, burst into laughter.

“Oh—oh my god—babe, you look—” She was wheezing, wiping tears from her eyes. “I—I’m sorry, I can’t—”

Isha, sitting innocently beside her, covered her mouth, eyes shining with amusement.

You crossed your arms. “You think this is funny?”

Jinx gasped for breath. “Babe, c’mon, you’re literally blue!”

Isha let out a small, breathy giggle.

You smirked.

“Alright, Powder,” you said sweetly. “Game on.”

Jinx’s laughter stopped.

“…Wait.”

By the end of the week, it was war.

You switched Jinx’s sugar with salt.

She short-sheeted the bed.

You put hot sauce in her morning coffee.

She filled your boots with glitter.

Isha, watching the chaos unfold, was delighted.

And then—

The prank truce.

Because somehow, somehow, Isha got caught in the middle.

Jinx had set up an elaborate bucket trap for you, but you weren’t the one who walked through the door.

Isha did.

The bucket tipped.

Flour everywhere.

A long, long silence followed.

Jinx paled. “Oh. Shit.”

Isha, completely dusted in white, blinked.

You braced for tears.

But instead—

She grinned.

Then, the softest, most mischievous giggle bubbled out of her.

Jinx gasped. “Babe.”

You were already smirking. “She’s one of us.”

Jinx wiped a fake tear from her eye. “I’m so proud.”

And just like that, Isha became the ultimate prank war champion.

You had created a monster.

And honestly?

You wouldn’t have it any other way.

⊹────⊹ ꯭┄ׁ┄ ʚ͜♡͜ɞ ┄ׁ┄꯭   ⊹────⊹

Your life finally feels complete again.

For weeks you felt alone and scared. 

Scared that you failed Jinx.

You saw Jinx actual feel like she has a purpose again.

But then—

when you both were finally settling in your guy’s new life.

she was gone.

But now—

you guys have Isha

finally feel full again.

but good things don’t always last forever.

⊹────⊹ ꯭┄ׁ┄ ʚ͜♡͜ɞ ┄ׁ┄꯭   ⊹────⊹

It happened too fast.

One second, you were all together—fighting, running, surviving.

The next—

Isha was holding a gun.

Your breath caught in your throat, legs moving before your brain could catch up.

Jinx screamed.

“Isha!”

Jinx lunged.

She almost made it.

Almost.

Isha’s eyes met yours—And then—

She was gone.

Falling.

Falling.

Falling.

And then—nothing.

Silence.

it wasn’t fair.

Not again.

Not her.

Not your baby.

⊹────⊹ ꯭┄ׁ┄ ʚ͜♡͜ɞ ┄ׁ┄꯭   ⊹────⊹

Everything burned.

Piltover was drowning in smoke, fire licking at the streets, sirens screaming in the distance. The air was thick with dust and blood, and the world felt like it was cracking apart.

And maybe it was.

Maybe you were.

Jinx stood beside you, gun smoking, eyes wild. Her fingers twitched on Fishbones, but her grip was steady. It always was in a fight.

She turned to you, breath ragged, face smeared with dirt and sweat.

“Once we’re out,” she rasped, voice raw from screaming, “we’ll get the life we always wanted.”

You swallowed, gripping your own weapon, heart pounding against your ribs.

“Jinx—”

“I mean it.” She reached for you, gripping your wrist like it was the only thing keeping her grounded. “No more running. No more fighting. Just us, babe. We’ll leave. Start fresh. We’ll have—”

She choked on the words.

But you knew.

She meant Isha.

She meant family.

She meant the life that was stolen from you both.

Your throat tightened. “Jinx…”

“I swear.” Her eyes burned, desperate, pleading. “Just hold on a little longer. Please.”

You exhaled shakily.

Then—slowly—you nodded.

Jinx let out a breath, pressing her forehead to yours.

For a moment, just one, the war didn’t exist.

It was just you and her.

Like it used to be.

Like it could be again.

If you survived.

If you made it out.

Jinx pulled back, smirking despite the blood on her lip. “C’mon, babe.” She lifted Fishbones. “Let’s finish this.”

And so, you did.

⊹────⊹ ꯭┄ׁ┄ ʚ͜♡͜ɞ ┄ׁ┄꯭   ⊹────⊹

The war ended in fire.

You made it out.

Barely.

With nothing but your weapons, the clothes on your backs, and the weight of ghosts in your hearts—

you both flew away.

Flew away from the wreckage. From the war. From everything.

And when you stopped running—

You were in Bilgewater.

⊹────⊹ ꯭┄ׁ┄ ʚ͜♡͜ɞ ┄ׁ┄꯭   ⊹────⊹

The first thing you noticed was the salt.

Bilgewater smelled like the sea—like salt and spice and damp wood. The docks groaned under the weight of ships, traders shouting over each other as people bustled past.

It was chaotic. Loud. Messy.

It was perfect.

Jinx stretched, arms high above her head, letting out a long, satisfied sigh.

“Smells like fish and crime,” she said, grinning. “I love it.”

You snorted. “You would.”

She turned to you, nudging your side. “You sure about this, babe? New place, new start—no more blowing stuff up for fun. You ready for that?”

You exhaled, looking out at the ocean.

The wind was soft here. The sun actually touched your skin instead of hiding behind smog.

You turned back to Jinx, taking her hand in yours.

“Yeah,” you murmured. “I’m ready.”

Jinx’s grin softened.

She squeezed your hand.

“Then let’s go home.”

It wasn’t much.

Just a small shack near the docks—rickety, barely standing, but yours.

Jinx spent weeks fixing it up, scrounging for parts, muttering about “engineering genius” and “making this place badass.”

You just watched her work, heart full for the first time in what felt like forever.

Because she was happy.

You both were.

No more war. No more running.

Just waking up with Jinx tangled around you, her hair messy, her breath warm against your neck.

Just late nights on the rooftop, watching the waves, talking about nothing and everything.

Just peace.

And one day, as Jinx lay beside you, fingers lazily tracing patterns on your arm, she whispered—

“We made it.”

You turned to her, brushing blue strands from her face.

“We did.”

She smiled, soft and real, and for the first time in a long time—

There were no ghosts.

No war.

No grief.

Just you and her.

And the life you always wanted.

⊹────⊹ ꯭┄ׁ┄ ʚ͜♡͜ɞ ┄ׁ┄꯭   ⊹────⊹

Bilgewater had been home for a couple months now.

The war was a distant memory, just a story told in whispers between you and Jinx when the nights stretched too long and the past felt too close.

Life had settled.

Jinx still tinkered, still got into trouble, still stole things just because she could. But she was happy. She laughed more, slept easier, held you like she was afraid you’d slip away in the night.

And you?

For the first time in your life, you were at peace.

But something was missing.

Something you and Jinx didn’t talk about out loud—not for months, not after what happened.

Then one night, as you both lay tangled on the couch, a storm raging outside, Jinx spoke—soft, hesitant.

“…Do you ever think about it?”

You didn’t have to ask what she meant.

You turned to her, fingers brushing absentmindedly through her blue strands. “Every day.”

Jinx swallowed.

She sat up, looking at you—really looking—and her voice was barely a whisper when she said—

“What if we tried again?”

Your breath caught.

Jinx rushed ahead before you could answer.

“Not—not to replace her,” she stammered. “Never that. Just… I dunno. We had a good thing. A great thing. And I think we could—” She exhaled sharply, eyes darting away. “Forget it. Dumb idea.”

You caught her chin gently, making her meet your gaze.

“It’s not dumb,” you said. “It’s perfect.”

Jinx blinked.

Then—slowly—her lips curled into a small, hopeful grin.

⊹────⊹ ꯭┄ׁ┄ ʚ͜♡͜ɞ ┄ׁ┄꯭   ⊹────⊹

BONUS!!!!!

⊹────⊹ ꯭┄ׁ┄ ʚ͜♡͜ɞ ┄ׁ┄꯭   ⊹────⊹

It took time.

But one day, finally, you held her.

Tiny. Fragile. A weight so light it barely felt real in your arms.

You stared down at the baby, throat tight, heart pounding in a way you hadn’t felt in years.

Jinx hovered beside you, practically vibrating.

“D’you think she’s defective?” she muttered.

You snorted. “Jinx.”

“She hasn’t said anything.”

“She was literally just born.”

Jinx huffed, poking the baby’s cheek. “Still. I expected more personality.”

The baby let out a soft, sleepy sigh.

Jinx melted.

“…Okay, that was kinda cute.”

You shook your head, smiling. Then, quietly, you whispered—

“Isha.”

Jinx froze.

The boat went silent, save for the distant sound of the waves against the docks.

You looked up, meeting Jinx’s eyes.

Her breath hitched.

For a moment, neither of you spoke.

Then—slowly—Jinx exhaled, her lips curling into something small, soft.

She reached out, tracing a gentle finger over the baby’s tiny fist.

“Isha,” she repeated, voice barely above a whisper.

Like it was something sacred.

You nodded, eyes stinging.

“She deserves to be remembered…both kids need to be remembered”

Jinx swallowed, blinking rapidly.

Then, suddenly, she grinned.

“Well,” she said, nudging your shoulder. “Let’s just hope this one doesn’t start a prank war.”

You chuckled, pressing a kiss to Isha’s tiny forehead.

“No promises.”

Jinx smirked.

Then she leaned in, brushing her lips against yours, whispering—

“We made it.”

You smiled.

“Yeah,” you murmured. “We did.”

And as Isha let out a tiny yawn, curling into your chest, the past finally let go.

The war was over.

The ghosts were gone.

And the life you always wanted?

It was here.

It was real.

And it was yours.

I love making angst and fluff stories!! They are so fun to craft!!

I want sleep.

[luvst4rc0r3]

If you're interested in a bsd request

Dazai’s suicide attempts keep getting interrupted by Reader barging in and dragging them into the most ridiculous. arguments and then the mending that he comes with them to the computer so they can look up the answer to the question they're arguing about. Successfully distracting him before he can drink poison or hurting himself. Little does he know that was Reader's secret plan all along!

“The art of distraction”

Dazai x Reader

The room was dim, just the flicker of a lamp illuminating the small, quiet space. Dazai sat on the floor, staring at the small bottle of poison in his hands. His fingers traced the edge of it as if trying to decide whether today would be the day. The darkness of his mind crept in again, and the familiar numbness filled his chest.

But just as he was about to tip the bottle to his lips, a loud bang from the door echoed through the room.

“Dazai! You won’t believe this!” You barged into the room without hesitation, a flurry of energy as you stomped in, completely oblivious to the fact that he was about to end it all.

His gaze flicked over to you, the poison still in his hand. His face fell into its usual mask, though the pain behind his eyes was impossible to hide. “You’ve got terrible timing, [Name].”

“Timing? No way!” You scoffed, dramatically placing your hands on your hips. “I need your help with something very important, and you’re coming with me.”

Dazai blinked. “Important? Right now?”

“Yes! Right now,” you said firmly. Before he could even protest, you walked right up to him, grabbed the bottle from his hand, and yanked him to his feet. “No more of this self-pity nonsense. I need you to help me figure out if penguins are technically birds or if they’re some kind of sea creature.”

“…What?” Dazai stared at you, incredulous.

“I mean, seriously! We need to settle this debate! You can’t leave me hanging!” You pulled him out of the room before he could voice any more objections, dragging him toward the computer.

He stumbled behind you, still dazed and now thoroughly confused. “You’re dragging me to look up penguin classifications?” His voice was full of disbelief, but the edge of bitterness in his tone had softened.

“Absolutely. It’s vital.” You plopped him in front of the computer, forcing him to sit down. “I’ve been arguing with Atsushi for days. He thinks penguins are just ‘cute sea birds.’ But I know there’s more to it! Now, type it in and let’s end this, once and for all!”

Dazai sat in front of the computer, running his fingers through his messy hair. He stared at the screen in front of him, completely caught off guard by your sheer determination to distract him. “Is this really what we’re doing right now?” He let out a small, defeated laugh. “I thought you were going to stop me from doing something foolish, not… start a ridiculous debate.”

“Well,” you said with a sly smile, “a debate is way more fun than the alternative.”

His eyes softened, just a little, though his usual smirk remained in place. “You really think arguing about penguins is going to save me, huh?”

“Why not?” You gave him a look that was equal parts sarcastic and sincere. “Maybe it’ll remind you that there’s something worth sticking around for. Even if it’s just a penguin debate.”

Dazai stared at you for a long moment, as if weighing the depth of your words, but before he could say anything, the computer beeped with the results.

“See? Penguins are birds, but they’re not just sea creatures,” you declared triumphantly, pointing at the screen. “They’re a whole thing, and now we know.”

Dazai chuckled softly, shaking his head. “I still can’t believe you managed to distract me with something like this. You’re too clever, [Name].”

“Maybe,” you said with a grin, “but I’d rather use my powers of distraction for something more… productive. Like keeping you alive and arguing about penguins.”

He leaned back in his chair, his posture relaxing slightly as he allowed himself to smile. “I suppose I should thank you for that. You’ve got an odd way of pulling me out of my own darkness.”

You shrugged. “I’ve got my methods. And they involve penguins. Who knew?”

Dazai let out a genuine laugh, something rare and pure. “I suppose it’s a good thing you barged in when you did.”

“See?” you teased. “I’m basically a superhero.”

And for the first time in a while, Dazai didn’t feel quite so alone in the darkness.

this is kinda a silly fic

I want food

[luvst4rc0r3]

LITTLE DARK BUT jinx x reader following the pregnancy but reader miscarries (maybe the zaun conditions or just overall stress idk) but yeah

OMG, I actually love this request. It was interesting to make.

"I don't want to be here anymore"

Jinx x Pregnant!Reader

WARNINGS: MISCARRIAGE!!!!!! If you do not like that then please leave.

WC: 2106

NOTE: set in Arcane Season 2, Episode 3. This is kinda a follow up from my post "Two pink lines"

PT.2

Jinx had never been good at sitting still.

She was always moving, always fidgeting—hands twitching, foot tapping, mind racing. The quiet got too loud otherwise, and she didn’t like what it had to say.

But now?

Now, she wished the world would stop moving.

She wished you would stop moving.

Your hands rested on your belly, rubbing circles into the stretched fabric of your shirt, as if you were already comforting the tiny life inside you. Jinx’s fingers twitched, her chest tightening as she sat on the edge of the bed, watching.

It still didn’t feel real.

Not the baby. Not you.

Not the way you looked at her like she wasn’t broken, like she wasn’t dangerous.

Like she was something worth loving.

You turned to her then, smiling so soft, so easy, like you weren’t carrying something that could change everything. “Jinx, baby, you’re staring again.”

Jinx blinked, realizing she had been, and forced a smirk. “Can ya blame me?” She flopped onto her side, propping her chin on her hand. “You’re all glow-y and shit. Kinda hot, not gonna lie.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “Yeah, well, you’re gonna have to get used to it.” You gestured to your belly. “It’s only gonna get bigger.”

Jinx’s stomach did something weird then—something she couldn’t name, something that made her fingers tingle and her heart race.

She reached out, hesitating for half a second before laying her hand over yours.

“I like ya like this,” she murmured, voice quieter than she meant it to be. “Like… ours.”

You covered her hand with both of yours, holding tight. “We are.”

Jinx swallowed hard, something like panic rising in her throat. She covered it with a laugh, sharp and teasing. “‘Course, now I gotta make sure you don’t go gettin’ yourself in trouble. Wouldn’t want ya droppin’ my kid in some sketchy alleyway, yeah?”

“Oh, so now it’s your kid?”

Jinx grinned. “Yeah, and it’s already cooler than any kid.”

You snorted. “Jinx—”

“No, listen, it’s got me as a mom. That’s an automatic win.”

Your laughter was the best sound in the world, and Jinx clung to it like a lifeline. She didn’t tell you how scared she was.

How the idea of loving something this much terrified her.

How she wasn’t sure she could survive losing it.

ׄ   𓂂    ઇ⠀⠀⠀ ׅ  ⠀⠀⠀ ♡ ⠀⠀⠀ ׅ  ⠀⠀⠀ઉ⠀⠀𓂂   ׄ  

Jinx knew something was wrong the second the air shifted.

Her grip on your hand tightened, sharp eyes flicking up toward the vents lining the alley. She didn’t like being out here—too many people, too many ways for things to go sideways—but you had begged. Just a quick trip, you had said.

And Jinx?

She couldn’t say no to you.

She never could.

But now—

Now the air was wrong.

Then you coughed.

Jinx’s head snapped to you, eyes wide as you hunched over, gripping your stomach.

And then—

Then you collapsed.

“No—no, no, no, NO!”

Jinx was on her knees before she even realized she had moved, hands grabbing at you, gripping, shaking—too limp, too pale, too quiet—

The air smelled wrong. Thick. Chemical.

Jinx’s blood ran cold.

She knew this smell.

Shimmer.

No—no, not Shimmer. Something worse.

Something new.

Her heart pounded as she looked up, and she saw it.

Green gas, curling from the vents, creeping along the streets. People were dropping like flies, bodies hitting the pavement, gasping, choking, some not moving at all.

Jinx barely heard the orders being shouted.

The Enforcers.

She saw the uniforms. The guns. The masks.

And in front of them—

A familiar figure.

Vi.

Jinx’s stomach dropped.

Vi did this?

Something sharp and white-hot exploded in her chest, mixing with panic, with fury, with something so deeply broken she couldn’t name it.

Vi—her sister—the one who had promised to keep her safe many years ago, the one who had left—

She had done this.

Jinx barely had time to process it.

Because you?

You weren’t moving.

She snapped back to you, hands shaking as she grabbed your face, tilting it toward her. “Baby—hey, hey, stay with me, okay? Look at me, c’mon, please—”

Your eyelids fluttered. Your mouth opened, but no words came.

Then your body seized.

Jinx’s breath caught.

Her world cracked.

“No—”

She scooped you up, legs already running, ignoring the Enforcers, ignoring the gunfire—she didn’t have time for this, she didn’t have time—

She had to get you out.

Had to get you safe.

She didn’t care that she was bleeding. Didn’t care that she could hear Vi shouting something behind her.

Didn’t care that the green smoke was still in her lungs.

She ran.

ׄ   𓂂    ઇ⠀⠀⠀ ׅ  ⠀⠀⠀ ♡ ⠀⠀⠀ ׅ  ⠀⠀⠀ઉ⠀⠀𓂂   ׄ  

Jinx had never known silence could be so loud.

The room was spinning, her chest heaving, her fingers numb.

You lay in the bed beside her, so still, so pale, your breath coming in ragged gasps.

She had done everything she could—cleaned you up, wiped the sweat from your forehead, whispered frantic reassurances into your skin.

But nothing changed the fact that when you finally spoke, your voice was broken.

“Jinx…”

She was on you in an instant, hands gripping yours, her face so open, so raw with desperation. “I’m here—I’m right here, baby—”

Your fingers curled weakly around hers.

The world outside didn’t matter. The pain, the fear, the horror of what had happened—it all blurred into nothing as she kept you pressed against her, her fingers tangled in your hair, her lips whispering shaky reassurances against your skin.

She didn’t know how to fix this.

Didn’t know how to take away the fear in your eyes, the tremble in your hands, the way you kept pressing against your belly like you were waiting for something—anything—to tell you everything was okay.

But then—

You inhaled sharply.

Jinx’s grip on you tightened. “Baby?”

Your eyes widened. Your fingers twitched.

And then—

A kick.

Barely there. Faint. Soft.

But real.

Your breath caught in your throat. Tears welled in your eyes, but this time.

This time, they weren’t from fear.

Jinx sucked in a shaky breath, her hands flying to your belly, pressing down gently, waiting, praying—

And then it happened again.

A flutter.

A sign of life.

Jinx let out a sound that was somewhere between a laugh and a sob, her forehead pressing against yours, her entire body shaking.

You let out a choked little giggle, covering your mouth, tears slipping down your cheeks. “They’re okay,” you whispered. “Oh my God, Jinx, they’re okay.”

Jinx could barely breathe past the lump in her throat.

She didn’t know how.

Didn’t know how to process the sheer relief, the overwhelming love, the way she had never felt more terrified and more alive all at once.

So she just kissed you.

Hard. Desperate. Like she was still trying to convince herself you were real.

When she pulled away, her voice was hoarse, her eyes burning.

“You scared the shit outta me.”

You sniffled, laughing weakly. “I scared myself.”

Jinx let out a breathy chuckle, her forehead knocking against yours. “Yeah, well… don’t do it again.”

You wrapped your arms around her, burying yourself into her warmth, into her safety.

And for the first time since the gas—

Since the panic, the pain, the unknown

It felt like maybe, just maybe—

Everything would be okay

ׄ   𓂂    ઇ⠀⠀⠀ ׅ  ⠀⠀⠀ ♡ ⠀⠀⠀ ׅ  ⠀⠀⠀ઉ⠀⠀𓂂   ׄ  

Jinx had never been good at feeling safe.

Not really.

But when you were around—when your fingers brushed through her hair, when your lips pressed against her forehead, when your hands cradled the small swell of your stomach—it felt close enough.

She could almost pretend that nothing bad would happen.

That you’d both get to be happy.

That your baby—her baby—would get to have the life neither of you had.

She let herself believe it.

Let herself dream of it.

Let herself think—just for a second—that she wasn’t cursed.

That she wasn’t meant to lose everything she loved.

ׄ   𓂂    ઇ⠀⠀⠀ ׅ  ⠀⠀⠀ ♡ ⠀⠀⠀ ׅ  ⠀⠀⠀ઉ⠀⠀𓂂   ׄ  

Jinx woke up to silence.

Not the kind that meant safety. Not the kind that came after a long day, curled up beside you, tracing patterns on your skin.

The kind that made her stomach twist.

The kind that meant something was wrong.

She reached for you—only to find the bed cold.

Her breath caught.

Then she heard it.

A sound so quiet, so broken, that it made her heart stop.

A gasp.

A choked sob.

Coming from the bathroom.

Jinx was on her feet before she even realized she was moving.

The door was locked.

“Baby?” Her voice was tight, shaking, already knowing—already knowing.

No response.

Another sob.

Jinx’s chest squeezed.

“Hey, c’mon—open up,” she tried again, knocking harder. “You’re scarin’ me.”

Still, nothing.

Just more crying.

Then—

A whimper.

So soft, so weak.

Jinx’s stomach dropped.

She kicked the door open.

And what she saw—

The world stopped.

You were on the floor, crumpled, half-clothed, knees pulled to your chest.

Your hands—covered in blood.

The floor—covered in blood.

So much of it.

So much.

Jinx’s breath hitched, her heart slamming against her ribs, her whole body locking up—

Then you looked at her.

And it broke her.

Your lips trembled. Your chin wobbled.

And then, barely above a whisper, voice cracking—

“Why is there so much blood?”

Jinx couldn’t move.

Couldn’t breathe.

You were shaking, staring down at yourself, hands smeared with red, fingers twitching like you were trying to understand—like you were still waiting to feel something move inside you.

Jinx fell to her knees.

“Baby—”

Your breath hitched.

Your body jerked forward, arms wrapping around yourself, fingers digging into your skin like you could hold yourself together if you just tried hard enough.

Then, the realization hit.

Jinx saw it happen.

The exact second your entire world broke.

Your whole body tensed.

Your lips parted.

Your eyes filled with tears.

Then—

A sob.

Loud. Choking.

You gasped, hands shaking violently as you reached down, pressing against your stomach—searching, begging, desperate to feel something.

But there was nothing.

Nothing.

And that was when you screamed.

Jinx felt something in her shatter.

You clawed at your belly, fingers curling into the blood-stained fabric of your shirt, pulling, gripping, gasping—like if you just held tight enough, you could keep what was already gone.

“No—no, no, no, no—”

Jinx grabbed you.

Held you.

Tried to make herself real.

Tried to keep you from slipping away.

But you thrashed against her, sobbing so violently that you couldn’t breathe.

“It’s gone,” you choked.

Jinx squeezed her eyes shut. “Baby, please—”

“It’s gone,” you sobbed harder, chest heaving, fists pounding against her.

She took it.

Took every hit, every cry, every shattered plea, because she deserved it.

Because it was her fault.

Because she should have stopped you from going out.

Because she should have noticed something was wrong.

Because she should have protected you.

Because she should have saved them.

Because the baby—your baby, her baby— was now gone

Your body collapsed against hers, trembling, arms wrapping around her so tight, like you were trying to crawl inside her, disappear inside her, be anywhere but here.

Jinx rocked you, held you, kissed your temple, muttering, pleading, whispering how sorry she was.

But sorry wasn’t enough.

Sorry wouldn’t bring them back.

Sorry wouldn’t stop the way you sobbed into her shirt, fingers gripping her so hard it hurt.

Sorry wouldn’t stop the way your voice broke when you whimpered,

"I don't want to be here anymore"

Jinx froze.

Her grip on you tightened, breath shuddering, heart slamming against her ribs.

“No,” she whispered, voice barely holding together.

You buried your face in her chest, crying so softly now, so defeated, like something inside you had finally given up.

Jinx pressed her lips to your forehead, eyes burning.

“No, baby,” she choked, voice cracking. “Don’t say that. Don’t ever say that.”

But you just curled deeper into her arms, breath ragged, body wrecked with grief.

Jinx held you like she could keep you here.

Like she could stop you from slipping away.

Like she could pretend that when you finally stopped crying, when you finally fell into an exhausted, hollow sleep, that everything would go back to the way it was.

But it wouldn’t.

It never would.

Jinx knew that now.

Because the worst part?

The part she couldn’t say out loud?

She didn’t know if she had lost just the baby.

Or if she was losing you too.

not my usual content

I want food

[luvst4rc0r3]

CAN YOU DO A JINX X READER FIC BUT READER IS PREGNANT AND LIKE SHE DOESNT KNOW HOW TO TELL JINX.

IF YOU DO IT TYYYYYY❤️❤️

“Two Pink Lines”

Jinx x F!Reader

WARNINGS: Mention of abortion?

WC:2311

NOTE: established relationship.

Your POV

You had been pacing the tiny space of your shared room for the last ten minutes, the little pregnancy test feeling like a bomb in your hands.

Your heart was pounding so hard it made your head hurt. You knew this wasn’t something you could just ignore—Jinx deserved to know. But saying it out loud? Actually forming the words? That felt impossible.

“Hey, Jinx, so, funny story—I’m pregnant.”

Nope. Too casual.

“Jinx, I have something to tell you… I’m having a baby.”

Too dramatic.

“Surprise! You knocked me up!”

Oh, hell no.

You groaned, dragging a hand down your face. Every option sounded worse than the last. There was no way this wouldn’t shake her, no way this wouldn’t send her brain spinning in all directions. Jinx wasn’t bad with emotions—she just didn’t always know what to do with them. And this? This was big.

You had seen how uneasy she was lately, the way she watched you with that nervous, twitchy energy. She knew something was up, but instead of pressing, she’d let it fester, probably assuming the worst.

Jinx had been through too much, lost too many people, and she had this awful habit of thinking everything was her fault. And you had not been helping, avoiding her questions, brushing off her concerns, all because you didn’t know how to say it.

That had to stop.

You exhaled sharply.

You needed to tell her. But you also knew that telling her face-to-face might make it worse.

Jinx was all reaction—she acted before thinking, emotions bubbling over before she could grab hold of them. If you just told her, there was a chance she’d shut down, that panic would take over before she even had time to process.

But if you left the test somewhere she’d find it, without the pressure of you standing there waiting for a reaction… maybe that would help.

Your eyes landed on her workshop.

That’s it.

She was always working on something, always tinkering with gadgets and bombs. Her workbench was her safe space—the one place she could think things through. If you left the test there, she’d have time to work through the shock before she had to deal with you staring at her, waiting for an answer.

Decision made, you swallowed hard and forced yourself to move.

Jinx wasn’t in the workshop, which was perfect. You stepped inside, ignoring the usual chaos of scattered blueprints and half-finished projects, and placed the pregnancy test dead center on her workbench.

She wouldn’t miss it.

You took a shaky step back, staring at the little plastic stick like it might suddenly shout the news for you.

This was the best way. You had to believe that.

Taking a deep breath, you turned and walked out. You’d give her a couple of hours—enough time to let her mind run in circles, freak out, and hopefully settle before you came back.

You just had to hope she wouldn’t blow anything up in the process.

‧͙*˚⁺‧͙ㅤ ওㅤㅤֺㅤ ⠀⠀✧ ⠀ ㅤֺㅤ ওㅤ ㅤ*̩̩͙‧͙*˚⁺ ͙

Jinx’s POV

Jinx felt like her skin didn’t fit right.

Something was wrong.

You were gone again, and she had no idea where or why. You kept sneaking off, looking at her like she was some kind of fragile bomb that might explode if you said the wrong thing.

She hated it.

Hated not knowing.

Hated the pit of anxiety gnawing at her stomach.

She stomped into her workshop, muttering to herself, fingers twitching at her sides. Maybe she could work on something, blow off some steam, keep her hands busy before she—

Her eyes landed on her workbench.

Jinx froze.

There, right in the middle of the mess, was something that didn’t belong. A little box.

Her brows furrowed. She stepped closer, picking it up and flipping it over in her hands. The words on the front made her stomach drop.

Pregnancy Test.

Her breath hitched.

That wasn’t—

No way.

She ripped the box open, fingers fumbling as she pulled out the little plastic stick inside.

Two pink lines.

Her heart stopped.

She stared at it, willing the lines to disappear, to change, to be anything else.

Two lines meant—

It meant—

Jinx’s breath came fast and shallow, her grip tightening around the test. Her thoughts were spiraling too fast to grab onto.

You were pregnant.

With her baby.

Her lungs felt too tight. Her hands were shaking. The world tilted, her brain screaming at her to do something, but she didn’t even know what.

This was why you’d been acting weird. This was why you were avoiding her, why you looked so nervous every time she got too close.

Oh.

Oh, shit.

Did you think she’d be mad? Did you think she wouldn’t want this?

Jinx stumbled back, almost knocking over a pile of scrap metal.

A baby. A tiny, fragile thing that would need her, to touch her, to need her warmth.

Her.

Jinx.

A girl who broke everything she touched.

She squeezed her eyes shut, sucking in a sharp breath. No, no, don’t go there, don’t—

Her brain wanted to run, to slip into that dark, gnawing place where she wasn’t enough, where she couldn’t be enough. But another thought cut through the panic—sharp, insistent.

You hadn’t left.

You didn’t run.

You left this for her to find, trusting that she’d handle it.

She blinked down at the test again.

Her fingers loosened.

The fear was still there, lurking under her skin, but something else was rising up too—something warm and unfamiliar.

You were having a baby.

Her baby.

Jinx let out a breathless, slightly manic laugh.

She had to find you. Now.

And you had a lot of explaining to do.

̩̩͙‧͙*˚⁺‧͙ㅤ ওㅤㅤֺㅤ ⠀⠀✧ ⠀ ㅤֺㅤ ওㅤ ㅤ*̩̩͙‧͙*˚⁺‧͙

You took your time getting home, dragging your feet through the dimly lit streets of Zaun. Every step felt heavier than the last, your stomach in knots.

You had done it. You had left the test on her desk. You had given her time.

Now you had to face whatever came next.

But the closer you got, the more the fear crept in.

What if she freaked out?

What if she shut down?

What if she left?

Jinx had a habit of running from things that hurt. And this? This had the potential to destroy her.

Your hands were ice-cold when you finally reached the door. You hesitated, heart pounding so hard you could feel it in your throat.

Then, slowly, you pushed it open.

Jinx was standing in the middle of the room.

Her shoulders were hunched, her hands curled into fists at her sides. The pregnancy test was still clutched in her fingers, white-knuckled like she had been holding onto it for hours.

The moment she saw you, she went still.

Completely still.

Your breath caught.

She wasn’t smiling. She wasn’t moving toward you.

She was just staring.

The weight of it crushed you.

She didn’t want this.

You could see it in the way she held herself, in the way her fingers trembled slightly around the test, in the way her mouth parted like she wanted to say something but couldn’t force the words out.

Your stomach turned, a sick, hollow feeling settling in your chest.

She didn’t want this.

And that meant—

You swallowed hard, your voice coming out quiet, fragile.

“I can get rid of it.”

The second the words left your mouth, Jinx broke.

“No!”

Her voice was so sharp, so panicked that it actually made you flinch.

Your breath hitched.

For a moment, neither of you spoke. The room was suffocating, thick with something raw and unbearable.

Jinx’s breathing was uneven, her chest rising and falling too fast. She looked—

Terrified.

Not of you. Not of the baby.

Of losing you.

“You don’t—” her voice cracked, and she shook her head so violently her braids whipped around her shoulders. “Don’t say that. Don’t even think—”

You took a step back.

Jinx moved forward immediately, closing the distance like she was afraid you’d slip away if she didn’t grab hold of you now.

“You thought I didn’t want this?” she asked, voice strangled. “You thought I—?”

You had.

She saw it in your face.

Her expression twisted, something like hurt flashing behind her eyes, and it made your chest ache.

“Shit,” she breathed, voice cracking. Her fingers curled into fists at her sides. “I don’t—I don’t know how to do this, okay? I don’t know how to be—” Her throat bobbed. “I don’t even know how to be a person most days. How the hell am I supposed to be a—?”

She cut herself off.

Didn’t say the word.

Couldn’t.

The weight of it was too much.

You looked down, eyes burning. “Then maybe—”

“No,” she snapped, voice hoarse. “Don’t. Just—don’t.”

Jinx ran a shaking hand over her face, dragging her fingers through her hair.

“I want this,” she admitted, voice barely above a whisper. “I want you. I want—”

Her gaze dropped to your stomach, and something in her expression cracked.

“I want them.”

It was barely a breath, barely a sound, but it knocked the air from your lungs.

She looked lost, like she didn’t know how to want this but did anyway.

Your throat tightened.

“You do?”

Jinx let out a soft, broken laugh, but it was filled with confusion and fear. “I do,” she whispered, her eyes glossy. “I just don’t know how. I don’t know how to be ready for this. But I want to try. I don’t want to lose you. I don’t want to lose us.”

Her voice wavered, and she reached out, her hand trembling as she placed it gently on your stomach. It felt tentative, like she wasn’t sure if she had the right to touch you, like she wasn’t sure if she was allowed to have a future with you and the baby.

But her fingers lingered there, almost as though she were trying to feel something real, something to ground herself. Her breathing was shallow, her body stiff, like she was holding herself together by sheer will.

You didn’t know what to say.

You could see it in her eyes—the fear, the doubt, the overwhelming weight of everything crashing down at once. She loved you, she wanted you, she wanted the baby, but she was terrified. And the last thing she wanted was to ruin everything. She couldn’t bear to mess this up.

But all you could think about was the space between you, the way she was afraid to touch you too hard, like she might break something precious.

“I don’t want to do this alone,” Jinx muttered, her voice cracking as she looked up at you, her face twisted with desperation. “Please, don’t make me do this alone. I… I don’t know how to be a mom. I don’t even know how to fix myself half the time, let alone another person. But I swear to you, I’ll try. I’ll try, okay?”

Her words hung in the air, raw and painful, and you could feel your heart breaking for her. You reached out, pulling her close, wrapping your arms around her. She tensed at first, but then she melted into you, pressing her forehead against your shoulder, her body trembling.

“I’m not going anywhere,” you whispered, your voice thick with emotion. “I’m not leaving you. I’m not leaving this. We’ll figure it out. Together. I promise.”

Jinx clung to you tightly, as if she feared you would disappear if she let go for even a second. Her hands dug into your back, her nails pressing into your skin as though she were holding onto the last thread of stability in her life.

But even as she held onto you, you could feel her shaking. Her whole body was trembling with the weight of everything she was carrying—the fear, the guilt, the uncertainty. She was scared, and you could feel it in the way she breathed, in the way her fingers tightened around you, as if she thought she might lose her grip.

“You don’t have to do it all alone,” you whispered, your voice soothing, trying to reassure both her and yourself. “We don’t have to have it all figured out right now. We’ll take it one day at a time, okay? No pressure. We can be scared together.”

Jinx pulled back slightly, just enough to look you in the eyes. Her face was streaked with tears, her cheeks flushed, and her gaze was still full of uncertainty. But there was something else there, too. Something softer.

“I’m scared,” she admitted, her voice trembling. “I’m terrified. But I want this. I want you.”

Her confession hit you like a wave, crashing through the walls you’d built in your own heart. You couldn’t stop the tears that welled in your eyes, couldn’t stop the sob that escaped your throat. You didn’t want to be scared anymore, either. You didn’t want to doubt everything you had with her, everything that was coming next.

You kissed her then, gently, softly. It wasn’t a kiss of passion or desperation, but one of quiet understanding. Of shared fear, shared hope.

When you pulled away, you both stayed close, your foreheads resting against each other, breathing in unison.

“I’m not leaving,” you repeated, almost to yourself, as much as to her.

Jinx nodded, her breath shaky, but she didn’t pull away. “Promise?”

You smiled faintly through your tears, nodding in return. “I promise.”

She closed her eyes for a moment, letting the silence between you stretch, the weight of everything pressing down on both of you. But there was a new understanding there now. An understanding that no matter how broken you both felt, no matter how terrifying the future seemed, you wouldn’t face it alone.

You had each other.

And that, for now, was enough.

YALL I LOVE THIS REQUEST!!

I want food