#Jinx Arcane | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

hcneymooners · 2 days ago

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⋆ arcane headcanons but they're all vampires.

multi. vampire!f!characters x f!reader. men & minors dni.

synopsis: what it says on the tin, baby doll.

cw: vampire-related violence, mentions of gore (nothing graphic), mentions of blood-drinking (duh), dom/sub, vaginal sex, vaginal fingering, masturbation, cunnilingus, power dynamics, power play, impact play, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, semi-public sex on occasion, unhealthy relationships (in the sense of vampires + their fledglings! no abuse i swear), manipulation, gothic themes, mutual obsession, age difference, older woman/younger woman, morally gray characters.

notes: this includes jinx, caitlyn, ambessa, sevika, + vi. i just watched nosferatu and it’s now one of my absolute favorite movies. i loved it and so now i must invoke the spirit of the vampire into every fictional woman i’m desperately in love with.

this is also fully for @digit4lslut who wanted more evil women. i concur.

The winter is long and arduous and you find yourself hungering for something dark and warm. The world has always seemed to press against you, take from you, eat at you. You’re in bed now, and the spot next to you is plush and warm from your lover’s recent departure. Your neck stings and you press a hand to it, pull it away to find a gleaming sweet mixture of venom and blood. Beyond your hand the door opens and with a few more steps the curtain shielding from around the bed are pulled back.

This is your lover's return. You look at her, smile softly as she crawls over you and hovers with a blood-wet mouth. Her chest rises, body fevered and aching after a hunt. She places a hand on your stomach, pushes down until you gasp and clutch at her. Yes, this is your forever. You cup her face, turn her toward the light.

You see her. You see your history. Who is she? What is your history? What is her name?

jinx.

♱ you both were small when you first met. you had a tendency to sneak out into the gardens, tuck yourself under the thicket of white hydrangeas and stare out into the water. one day, the darkness shifted and she was staring back.

♱ she was all wild hair and wilder eyes, skin pale as moonlight. her hair was crystal, ocean blue. you weren't scared—maybe you should have been. instead, you reached out your hand and she took it, fingers cold against yours.

♱ you let her trace your palm, intertwine your fingers. something began to hum deep and low in your body and her eyes went pink, bright and starlike. she smelled so overwhelmingly of rose and plum, almost sickly sweet. you breathed in deeply, from your stomach up through your chest—like you were swimming.

♱ that was the beginning.

♱ for years, she was your shadow companion. you'd meet in the garden at midnight, sharing secrets and stolen sweets. You’d tuck a cake under the flat of her tongue and she’d hold it, smile close-lipped while it turned to ash. she'd braid flowers into your hair while telling you stories about magic and monsters to distract you while she spit it out.

♱ then one spring, she vanished. you woke to nothing but a puncture wound on the flesh of your palm, the holes almost tender with their dried blood and lack of pain. you didn’t know it then, but she’d spread her saliva, her venom over it to spare you from any pain.

♱ the hydrangeas bloomed without her, and you learned what it meant to mourn someone who left no trace behind. you grew into yourself slowly, carefully, always feeling half-formed without her there.

♱ when you saw her again, you were twenty-three and she was everything you'd dreamed of in the dark. she stood in her cousin's drawing room, all sharp edges and sharper smile. "this is jinx," they said, "she's been abroad." you knew better—the girl from your garden had never left, she'd just become something else entirely. maybe she always had been.

♱ her cousin, viktor, spoke of marriage within weeks. you agreed, but your eyes were always on her. you caught her watching you too, gaze heavy with something that made your blood sing. this was what you'd been waiting for, you realized. this hunger. this need.

♱ you couldn’t be alone with her. you recognized your lack of will, your deference almost immediately and set about avoiding her when you could. you only realized she allowed it, was indulging your fancy, when she cinched your waist with an arm just outside of the dining room and pressed her thumb into your chin until your jaw hinged wide enough for her to see the tissue of your cheek.

♱ “enough of this,” she told you, and then closed your mouth. she leaned forward, flooding your mind with her saccharine perfume as she held your head inbetween her spindly fingers and pressed a kiss to your forehead.

♱ she took to painting you. at first, it was formal portraits, the kind viktor commissioned. but soon the paintings changed—you in the garden, surrounded by hydrangeas, then by roses. you sleeping, hair spilled across silk pillows. you with bitten lips and eyes that held secrets.

♱ you never told anyone how you'd pose for her in the dead of night, how your skin would flush under her gaze.

♱ "you're my best work," she'd whisper, fingers trailing over fresh canvas. "my masterpiece." her studio became your sanctuary, far from viktor's polite affections and careful touches. she never kissed you, but god, how you wanted her to.

♱ the sculptures started after your engagement was announced. you in marble, you in bronze, you eternally preserved in cold, beautiful stone. she worked feverishly, possessed by something you both couldn't name. "i'm making you immortal," she'd say, and her eyes would glow like embers. "isn't that what you want?" it was. it is.

♱ you found her old sketches one night—drawings of you as a child, then a teenager right before her abandonment of you, then a woman, dated through all the years she'd been gone. she'd never stopped watching you, never truly left.

♱ the pages were stained with something dark at the edges. you traced them with your fingers, understanding finally what it meant to be beloved by something inhuman.

♱ "do you ever think about that night in the garden?" she asked once, hands covered in clay as she shaped your likeness. "when we first met?" you nodded, remembering the cold touch of her hand. "i knew then," she said, "that you'd be mine. but you didn’t understand it."

♱ the way your heart raced at those words should have frightened you. instead, you whispered back, "i understand now."

♱ viktor speaks of jinx with a mixture of fear and reverence. "she's not right," he whispers against your neck one night, and you feel nothing but impatience at his touch. "the things she does in that studio..." but he never finishes the thought. the family—the coven, jinx’s voice corrected you—needs her, so they keep her close.

♱ you need her too, but for entirely different reasons.

♱ sometimes she watches viktor touch you—at dinner parties, in the garden, during your dancing lessons. her eyes are molten in those moments, and later you find your face torn to pieces, canvas slashed with violent strokes of red.

♱ anyone else would be terrified, but the desperation with which she wants you makes your body riot with heat. you begin to leave your windows open at night, hoping she'll come to claim what's hers.

♱ "sit still," she commands, and you do. you always do. she's sculpting your hands now, obsessing over every line, every vein. "beautiful," she murmurs, and her fingers trace the paths her chisel will follow. your pulse jumps beneath her touch. she smiles, knowing. you smile back, trembling and wanting.

♱ the studio walls are covered with you now. sleeping, laughing, reading, dancing—moments you don't remember posing for. "my muse," she calls you, but it feels more like worship. every angle of you captured, preserved, devoured by her artistry. you wonder if this is what it feels like to be transformed into myth, and if she would lash out at your desire to be her priestess instead of her god.

♱ you find her one night in the garden, beneath your hydrangeas. she's painting with something dark and wet, and the flowers are turning red beneath her brush. she’s upset, her spin flexing agitatedly. "your wedding is in a month," she says without looking up. "i'm running out of time."

♱ you kneel beside her in the dirt, press your fingers to her cold cheek. "what do you need me to say in order for you to just take me?" you whisper. her eyes flash in the dark.

♱ the paintings change again. now they're fever dreams—you with wings of thorn, you with a crown of bones, you surrounded by writhing shadows. in every one, there's a crimson figure reaching for you. in every one, you're reaching back. they're no longer paintings but prophecies, and you ache for their fulfillment.

♱ "he'll never see you like i do," she tells you, circling your latest statue. “i know,” you answer. "he'll never capture your essence." her hand hovers over the marble's heart. “i—i know.” "he'll never make you eternal." the way she says it sounds like a promise. "i know,” your breathing is erratic now. “i don't want him to," you answer. "i only want you."

♱ the sculpture shatters that night; neither of you mention the blood on her hands.

♱ you start finding dead hydrangeas on your pillow, their petals black with age. beneath them, sketches of you in a wedding dress, the train stained scarlet, the veil made of lace and gray shadow. her signature is always in red. you press the flowers between book pages, collecting them like love notes.

♱ "tell me about the night you disappeared," you ask her once, lying among the ruined canvases of her studio. she traces patterns on your throat instead of answering. "i had to become worthy of you," she finally says. "i had to learn how to keep you forever." you turn your head, bare your neck and spread your legs. she lies against you, begins to drag two finger to your center. "show me," you breathe. “please.”

♱ she eats you like she does everything else: wildly, insatiably, and relentless. you feel out of control, grasping at your thighs as you finish over her.

♱ the night before your wedding, she asks to paint you one last time. viktor warns against it, but you go anyway. her studio smells of copper and roses.

♱ she doesn't use canvas this time. instead, her fingers trace runes on your throat, your wrists, your heart. "art needs sacrifice," she says, and her teeth gleam in the candlelight. "and i've waited so patiently. given you up for long enough." you think of all the years she watched, waited, wanted. your hands find her hair. “stop waiting."

♱ your first night as her creature, you understand why she always painted in red. the world explodes into color you never knew existed—violets deeper than bruises, blues that pulse like veins, reds that sing of life itself. "everything's so beautiful," you whisper. she laughs against your throat. "this is just the beginning, baby."

♱ viktor never makes it to the altar. the coven whispers that he fled, abandoned his bride-to-be. only you and jinx know the truth of his final portrait, painted in shades of crimson and hung in the deepest chamber of her studio. his last gift to art. you understand now—true art should hurt a little.

♱ the garden blooms year-round now, hydrangeas stained perpetually dark with your midnight feedings.

♱ "do you remember when you were afraid of me?" she asks one night, centuries after. you're both covered in bed, her mouth slick from where she’s been drinking. "i was never afraid," you correct her, licking the color from her fingers. "i think i just always loved you and found myself incomplete. that’s terrifying at thirteen, seventeen, nineteen, twenty. and it never stops.”

♱ “good” she murmurs, and you know then that if you ever die she will be the thing that kills you.

caitlyn.

♱ she's been watching you grow into yourself for years. quiet, careful, always maintaining that perfect distance. you think she's just being professional—the respected vampire mediator, keeping an eye on the human liaison to her kind.

♱ she knows better, knows what you are. she feels the pull every time you enter a room, like gravity shifting to accommodate your presence.

♱ you begin to speak to her, lay yourself bare. you find that she’s so attentive when she listens, her body twisting to match the shape of yours as she leans her chin on hands and never breaks her gaze.

♱ "you'll find them," she tells you one night, when you're crying in her study about another failed relationship. her hand hovers over your shoulder, not quite touching. "your perfect one is out there."

♱ the lie tastes of rot in her mouth. she knows exactly where your perfect match is—sitting across from you, centuries old and terrified of how young you are.

♱ you bring her wine she can't drink and tell her your secrets. your life spills out of you, a thin timeline that is a speck in how long she’s lived. she collects each one like precious stones, storing them away with all the other pieces of you she's gathered over the years.

♱ "i just want someone to look at me and know," you confess. she grips her desk until the wood creaks, fighting the urge to say: i know. i've always known.

♱ she can’t help herself in some ways. there are some things she can't hide, one of them being her favor. books appear on your desk about subjects you mentioned wanting to learn. your favorite flowers stay blossomed in winter outside your window. a shadow follows you home on dangerous nights. you think she's just being kind. she's being careful—so, so careful.

♱ "do you ever feel it?" you ask her once. "that pull toward someone? like your whole body already knows them?" she looks at you for a long moment, memorizing the way moonlight catches in your dilated eyes. for a moment, she zones out and listens to your body pump and pulse. she hears your sudden arousal, the sticky syrupy run of your cunt as you watch her the swell of her chest.

♱ "yes," she says finally, slightly breathless. "i know exactly what you mean." you smile, relieved to be understood. she turns away, centuries of control cracking.

♱ when you finally find out, it's not gentle. there's a fight, an ancient vampire who gets too close, wounds you and tells you too much.

♱ "ask your protector why she keeps you close," he sneers before caitlyn tears him apart. "ask her why she won't let anyone else have you."

♱ you're magnificent in your rage. "all this time!" you seethe, hurling books at her head. "watching me cry about being alone. letting me think—" she catches a particularly heavy tome before it hits her face.

♱ "i was trying to protect you," she starts. "from what?" you roar. "from me," she whispers.

♱ you settle and she finds it worse than the rage.“caitlyn, you are my mate. out of everyone, you could only ever save me.”

♱ "i've lived centuries," she tries to explain. "i've seen everything this world has to offer. i didn't want to take your chance at a normal life. you will resent me as time passes. that is the truth." you laugh, bitter and broken. "that wasn't your choice to make. and it was the wrong one. resent you? it’s as if you don’t even know me."

♱ she finds you in her study at midnight, surrounded by her journals. centuries of entries about you, dreams at frist—about the pull, about fighting it. then you came into the world and it was real, more terrifying.

♱ "when?" you ask, voice raw. "when did you know?" she kneels beside your chair, finally letting herself touch your hand. "the moment you walked into my office five years ago. it felt like walking into sunlight after an endless night."

♱ "i've memorized all your habits," she confesses one night, when you're still angry but can't stay away. "the way you tap your fingers when you're thinking. how you always have to turn to an even-numbered page in a book before you leave it. the exact sound of your heartbeat when you're about to cry."

♱ you want to hate how well she knows you. instead, you ache.

♱ she starts leaving collections of letters for you, months of longing bound in leather. you read about the first time she saw you smile, how she had to leave the room because the wanting was too much. about all the times she nearly shattered, nearly told you, nearly gave in.

♱ "i wrote novels of you," she whispers when you confront her. "i just couldn't let you read them."

♱ "i want to know," you demand one evening, tired of careful distance. "show me what it feels like."

♱ she presses her hand to your chest, lets you feel the pull that's been tormenting her for years. it's like drowning in fire, like every love poem ever written condensed into a single touch.

♱ "oh," you breathe. "why did you keep this from me?"

♱ you find her old paintings hidden away—you in every season, every light. she's captured moments you didn't even know she witnessed.

♱ "i told myself it wasn't possessive if i never showed anyone," she admits. you trace a picture of yourself sleeping, rendered in oils and longing. you turn to her, face open and wet. "what if i wanted to be possessed?"

♱ the first time she kisses you, it's like coming home. "i'm still angry," you murmur against her lips. “furious even.” her hands shake as they frame your face. "i know. i'll spend decades earning your forgiveness."

♱ you bite her lower lip hard enough to draw blood. "decades? is that all?"

♱ she tries to maintain control even now—always asking permission, always holding back. you learn to break her resolve with casual touches, with bared skin, with whispered confessions. "let go," you tell her, pressing closer. "i want you to trust yourself so implicitly, that you let yourself go. i'm not made of glass."

♱ when she finally does, there are stars exploding behind your eyes and gunfire in your head. you will never forget the feel of her, her cunt swollen and pink and weeping against you.

♱ "i used to stand outside your door at night," she admits, tracing patterns on your bare shoulder. "listening to you breathe, making sure you were safe." you should find it creepy. instead, you think of all the nights you felt protected without knowing why.

♱ "next time," you say, "come inside."

♱ you start finding little gifts—first editions of books you mentioned loving, antique jewelry that matches your eyes, pressed flowers from centuries ago. "i've been collecting things for you," she explains, shy suddenly. "since before the day we met."

♱ you wear her history around your neck, let her sink into your blood.

♱ sometimes you catch her watching you with that old hesitation. you've learned to read it now—the fear that she's taking too much, loving too deeply. "i choose this," you remind her, pressing your wrist to her mouth. "i choose you." she kisses your pulse point like a prayer.

♱ "i thought i was protecting you," she whispers one night, when you're tangled in her sheets and her guilt. "but i was really protecting myself. from how much i could love you. from how much it would destroy me to lose you."

♱ you kiss the confession from her lips. "you will never lose me. but i will ruin you, if you ever try to keep me from you again. in any fashion.”

♱ she shivers, understands that you are saying this as a vow. she rolls you over, climbs on top of you, tries to tear apart your body to find a place to stay.

ambessa.

♱ she never looks at you. not really. you're furniture to her, useful and invisible. you clean lip stains from her wine glasses, replace torn sheets, erase all evidence of her endless parade of lovers. sometimes you find drops of blood on the marble floor and wonder what it would taste like to be wanted by her.

♱ "excellent work as always," she says without turning around. you've just finished clearing away another morning-after scene—scattered clothes, broken crystal, the lingering scent of sex and copper in the air. her praise feels like acid in your chest.

♱ you want her to see you. you want her to devour you. you want, you want, you want.

♱ you keep track of her lovers in your mind, a masochistic catalog. the willowy blonde who screamed her name. the dark-haired man who left claw marks on her sheets. the redhead who stayed for three nights (a record).

♱ none of them last. none of them matter. but they get to taste her, and you're just the ghost who cleans up their remains.

♱ "my perfect attendant," she calls you, when she bothers to speak to you at all. she doesn’t even know your name, yet you know every detail of her life—how she takes her blood (warm, with a drop of rum), which silk sheets she prefers (harvest gold, 800 thread count), the exact temperature she likes her chambers (a cool 65 degrees).

♱ you know everything except what her fangs would feel like against your throat.

♱ it breaks on a tuesday. you find another lover's scarf wound around her bedpost, stained with blood and something else. your hands shake as you untie it. maybe they were kept captive with it. ungrateful. she wouldn’t have to hold you down for anything. you would prostate, beg for her. you would be good.

♱ "leave it," her voice commands from the doorway. you turn, and finally, finally she's looking at you. but all you can see is the fresh bite mark on her neck, already healing.

♱ something about it needles at you, guts you. she usually doesn’t let them bite her back. "no," you whisper. then louder: "no."

♱ she raises an eyebrow, amused at your defiance. "excuse me?" the scarf falls from your trembling fingers.

♱ "i can't—i won't do this anymore. i can't keep cleaning up after them. after you. i can't—" your voice breaks. tears spill down your cheeks. her amusement vanishes.

♱ “my entire life, i’ve been right there. and i know you know. i know you can smell it.” you practically hiss it. “every day, i debase myself in front of you. i can never hate you but i want to get close.”

♱ "you're dismissed," she says quietly. you laugh through your tears. of course. of course she'd throw you away the moment you showed weakness.

♱ you leave without packing your things, without looking back. you don't see her expression as she watches you go, the way her fingers dig into the doorframe hard enough to splinter wood.

♱ another coven takes you in. lesser nobles, but they're kind enough. you don't have to clean up after anyone's trysts. you don't have to smell blood on sheets or wonder about the sounds coming from behind closed doors. you should be happy.

♱ instead, you dream of her every night. hot, detailed, torrid visions that make you wake weak and wet.

♱ a month passes. then two. you learn to breathe again, to exist in spaces that don't smell like her perfume. "you seem sad," your new mistress says. you force a smile. "only tired."

♱ gyou don't tell her that every room feels wrong, that every bed you make feels empty without gold upon it.

♱ she comes for you on a moonless night. you're changing linens (always changing linens, even here) when the temperature drops. "did you think i would let you go so easily?" her voice slides down your spine like ice. you don't turn around. you can't. “i thought you’d have returned by now, would have reconsidered what you gave up.”

♱ "look at me," she commands. you've never been able to deny her anything. she's exactly as beautiful as you remember, but her eyes are different. starved. "my perfect attendant," she purrs. "do you know how many lovers i've taken since you left?" you flinch. she smiles. "none."

♱ "come home," she says, like it's that simple. you gather your pride around you like armor. “why should i?” her eyes flash. "because you're mine." you laugh, bitter and bright. "i am—i’m not a medarda. i was never yours. i was your furniture, remember? you didn’t even call me by name."

♱ for the first time in centuries, ambessa medarda looks uncertain.

♱ she starts leaving gifts—not just jewelry and silk, but tokens of attention. oysters, shelled and presented to make your consumption easier. books you'd mentioned wanting to read, when you thought she wasn't listening. a bottle of the perfume you wear, worth more than your yearly salary. you send them all back. she needs to learn that you can't be bought.

♱ "tell me how to fix this," she demands one night, appearing in your chambers. you're still in your evening dress from serving at the coven's gathering, throat on display and adorned with delicate chains. her eyes fix on your nervous swallow.

♱ "you can't just command everything better," you say softly. "not this time."

♱ she follows you to another gathering, watching from shadows as you serve blood-wine to lesser vampires. you're dressed in black silk, your neck a graceful line adorned with gold. the whole room's attention shifts when you move—too many hungry eyes, too many sharp smiles. you pretend not to notice. the attention means nothing; it isn’t hers.

♱ you hear her growl when one of them gets too close, asking if you'd like to "serve privately." before she can move, you handle it yourself: a polite smile, a steel-edged refusal. you've learned to navigate these waters. you don't need her protection.

♱ (but oh, how your heart races when you feel her rage across the room. you’re almost sick with it.)

♱ "they want to devour you," she seethes later, cornering you in an empty hallway. "i can smell their desire. their need." you meet her gaze steadily. "now you know how it feels."

♱ understanding dawns in her eyes, followed by something darker. "is this what you felt? watching me with them?" you turn away. her hand catches your wrist. "answer me."

♱ "yes," you whisper. "every night. every morning. watching you choose everyone but me. wanting—" your voice breaks. her grip tightens. "wanting what?" you pull away. "everything. anything. just one taste of being yours."

♱ she moves differently after that.

♱ no more commands, no more assumptions. she courts you properly, like you're something precious. leaves letters detailing all the things she noticed but never said. how graceful your hands are when you pour wine. how your hair settles against your back when you sleep. how she missed your scent in her chambers.

♱ "i may have taken you for granted," she admits one evening. you're both in her study, you perched carefully out of reach. "i thought you would always be there. my perfect girl." her laugh is self-deprecating. "i didn't realize i was losing my only match."

♱ another gathering. another dress. this time when the vampires stare, she's at your side. "she’s spoken for," she says evenly. you raise an eyebrow. "am i?" her hand finds your waist, possessive but questioning. "if you wish to be."

♱ "make me believe it," you challenge. she watches you, then sinks low. she’s kneeling before you and the sight makes you dizzy—ambessa medarda, on her knees. the room goes silent.

♱ "i have loved you," she says, loud enough for all to hear, "in all the wrong ways. let me love you properly." you touch her chin, tilt her face up. "prove it."

♱ she relearns you slowly, deliberately. no more invisible servant—now she watches openly as you move through her chambers. "tell me if you want me to stop," she says, but you don't. you want her to see everything she missed before.

♱ "you've redecorated," she notes one night, when you finally return to her rooms. you've replaced the golden silk with deep purple, changed the artwork, rearranged the furniture. made it yours. "i'm not here to clean up after you anymore," you remind her. she traces a finger along your jaw. "no. you aren’t."

♱ the first time she feeds from you, it's like death— you are breaking apart all at once; you are coming together and it is sweet.

♱ "you taste like nectar," she breathes against your throat. you thread fingers through her hair, holding her close. "you taste like mine," you answer. she shudders against you.

♱ the next time she kneels for you is in the drawing room, her head beneath your skirts and your legs on her shoulders. she laps at you, pulls orgasm after orgasm from you until you kick at her back. even then she continues, with fingers instead of tongue. the pain, the pleasure—it’s endless.

♱ old habits die hard—sometimes she still tries to command rather than ask. but now when she slips, you arch an eyebrow and wait. "please," she'll correct herself, the word foreign and stilted on her tongue. you reward her with kisses that always spiral out of control.

♱ you keep one of her old lover's scarves, tucked away in a drawer. sometimes when she's being particularly imperious, you take it out, let her see it. "i could leave again," you remind her. she pulls you into her lap, buries her face in your neck. "you won’t. it won’t be as easy. you know this." you gasp as her teeth sink in.

♱ "do you miss it?" she asks once. "taking care of me?" you run your fingers along her spine. "i still take care of you. i just do it as your equal now."

♱ she presses you into silk sheets, whispers "show me" against your skin. you do.

♱ you catch her watching you dress for bed, something vulnerable in her eyes. "what is it?" you ask. "i suppose i keep waiting," she admits, "for you to decide that you would like something different." you straddle her lap, cradle her face in your hands. "i decided that i deserve exactly what i chose."

♱ the other covens still whisper—about how the great ambessa medarda let a servant become her consort, about how she kneels for you in private (did it in public, even). they don't understand that she's never been stronger than when she's yielding to you.

♱ besides, it is you who often submits. she drives you insane with how much you need her. you just force her to work for it.

♱ "sweet girl," she calls you now, never attendant. occasionally, she speaks your name, usually in the midst of pleasure. you're arranging flowers in her study (old habits), and she's watching you like you're something holy.

♱ you meet her eyes in the mirror. "yes, mistress?"

♱ her eyes darken. she rolls up her sleeves, comes over.

sevika.

♱ she comes to collect on a sunday. you're serving tea to your mother when the door creaks open—no knock, no warning. just sevika, silco's enforcer, filling the doorway like an omen.

♱ "time to pay up," she drawls, flashes teeth. your mother starts to cry. you pour another cup of tea.

♱ "would you like some?" you ask, steady-handed despite your racing heart. she blinks, caught off-guard by your composure. "what?" you gesture to the cup. "it's jasmine. very soothing."

♱ her laugh is sharp as broken glass. "you think tea will save you from your family's debts?" "no," you say simply. "but it might buy me an hour to pack."

♱ she studies you over the rim of the teacup she doesn't remember accepting. you pretend not to notice how she watches your throat when you swallow hard. "one hour," she agrees. you hide a smile in your cup.

♱ one hour becomes one day. becomes one week. becomes one month. you're clever with your delays—always just reasonable enough, always with something to offer. "you're playing a dangerous game, priya," she warns you.

♱ your fingers brush hers as you hand her another cup of tea. "i know."

♱ she begins to linger after delivering silco's threats and your family home becomes a strange fairytale in this winter—ice flowers blooming on windows, shadows moving like living things, sevika's footsteps echoing on wooden floors. you serve tea in your grandmother's bone china cups, and sometimes there are teeth marks on the rims that weren't there before.

♱ you always meet in your mother's parlor, all faded elegance and desperate pride. snow falls outside like ash, and the samovar steams in the corner, waiting. when sevika enters, the dark worn world follows her—frost crawling up the windows, ice crystallizing in your lungs. you never stood a chance at escape. so you just shift the goal.

♱ you learn that her mechanical arm aches in the cold, the phantom of the real one haunting her. that she has a secret fondness for your mother's butter cookies.

♱ "you're stalling," she tells you over and over. "yes," you agree. "is it working?"

♱ your mother catches on first. "oh, clever girl," she whispers, watching sevika watch you over dinner. "but be careful. a jaguar is still a jaguar even if it hides its teeth." you think of the way sevika's hands shook when you touched her last, how she pulls back if you flinch even slightly at her approach. "mmm. the jaguar is still a cat."

♱ your first kiss tastes like smoke and metal. she's furious about something—another clever excuse, another day bought—and you silence her with your mouth. she pulls back, eyes wide.

♱ "you can't seduce your way out of this," she tells you, her voice almost dead. you trace her bottom lip with your thumb. "i’m not trying to. my desire for you is a separate thing."

♱ she brings you gifts that feel like warnings: a silver hairpin sharp enough to kill, a red cloak lined with raven feathers, a ring set with stones that look like frozen blood. "are you trying to save me or damn me?" you ask, letting her fasten the clasp at your throat. she kisses your pulse point. "both. neither. everything."

♱ you find out she's older than your great-grandmother's grandmother. "does it bother you?" she asks roughly. you're curled in her lap, mapping the scars on her human hand. "does what bother me? that you're ancient?" she pinches your side. you kiss her neck. "you're just well-preserved."

♱ eventually, your meddling works. after one too many unsuccessful collections, silco summons you both.

♱ "fascinating," he muses, taking in sevika's protective stance, your carefully blank expression. "you've found quite an interesting solution to your family's situation." you meet his knowing gaze. you let your heart marr your face with its emotion. "oh, how sweet,” he murmurs. “marry my enforcer, erase the debt. is this what you want?"

♱ “i want to live,” you answer, with your jutting out. you feel sevika turn and look at you, feel the realiztion come that she’s been a (delightful) means to an end.

♱ "you’ve been using me," she accuses later, pressing you against your bedroom wall. "from the first day.” you wrap your arms around her neck. pull at her hair until her head falls back."yes." she shudders. "why?" you kiss her mechanical knuckles. "because i see you and you see me. really see me. you know i am wicked and you still drink my tea.”

♱ she fucks you hard, fast. your stomach is bruised from where she holds you, your legs nicked by her claws as she grabs you when you try to scramble away. she’s mean, understandably confused and maybe even feeling betrayed. you let her rut her frustration onto your cunt, gasp softly as she laps her slick from between your folds.

♱ “i should drain you,” she murmurs into your sweat-slick neck. you pull away, grasp her jaw. “i often thought that you should eat me. dreamed of it. sometimes,” you confess, “i even came. i had to squirrel away the sheets before my mother could find them.” she shakes, slips a finger inside of you. “liar,” she accuses. “if that makes it easier,” you respond.

♱ "my mother believes i did this to save us" you tell her one night, snow gathering on the windowsills like secrets. "she thinks i'm sacrificing myself." sevika's hand whirs as she pulls you closer. "aren't you?" you smile against her throat. "i only reward myself in this life. it’s not a sacrifice if you really want it."

♱ your wedding preparations become a dance of power and submission. you choose a lavish black dress with silver threading for the rehersal, drape yourself in diamonds cold as death. "you look like you're already one of us," sevika murmurs, and you can't tell if she's pleased or terrified. "isn't that what you really want?" you ask. her silence tastes pleasant.

♱ the night before your wedding, you find her in the garden, snow melting around her feet. "having second thoughts?" you ask, wrapping your arms around her waist. she rocks into you. "wondering when exactly i lost control of this," she admits. you press closer, sharing warmth she doesn't need. "bold of you to assume you ever had it."

♱ your wedding is a power play, a business transaction, a love story written in blood and tea leaves. you wear red and gold, traditional colors for a vampire's bride. sevika looks at you like she's drowning. "still think i'm just a clever little girl?" you whisper during your first dance. she kisses you hard enough to break your jaw. "you're the most dangerous woman i've ever met."

♱ you move into her quarters in silco's mansion—all dark wood and darker secrets. at night, you hear screams from the lower levels, but you never flinch. instead, you pour tea rigidly in cups rimmed with gold, light candles that smell of grape and amber, create a home in the heart of a monster's lair.

♱ "you should be more afraid of me," she tells you one night, after you've watched her tear someone apart. you're helping her clean blood from her joints, gentle and thorough. "what’s the point? i’m in this now. anway, you should be afraid of me," you counter, pressing a kiss to her gore-stained knuckles. her laugh catches in her throat.

♱ silco watches you at dinner parties, amused by how you've tamed his beast. but he doesn't see how you feed her morsels from your fingers, how your soft touches leave her trembling, how your love is its own kind of violence. how you aren’t afraid to lash her with it, refuse her affection to keep her in line. you know she needs this, that she’s rarely had it before.

♱ "you've made her weak," he accuses. you smile, all teeth. "i've made her mine."

♱ you develop rituals together, sacred as prayer and sharp as knives. every night, you clean her mechanical arm—each gear, each plate, each deadly piece. your hands never shake, even when they're stained with someone else's blood. "my good girl," she murmurs, and you pretend not to notice how her voice trembles.

♱ the tea ceremony becomes something close to holy between you. your grandmother's samovar, polished until it shines like a mirror, brewing tea dark as sin. you pour with steady hands while she tells you about the night's violence.

♱ sometimes you taste copper in the cup and realize she's kissed the rim, leaving traces of her work behind. you drink it anyway.

♱ you draw her baths after hunts, water turning pink with vicera that isn't hers. she lets you wash her hair, lets you trace the scars on her back, lets you piece her together again. "i could kill you just like this," she says when you massage her scalp. you kiss her shoulder. "i’d drag you down."

♱ on cold nights, you brush and braid her hair, weaving in strips of leather and small, sharp blades. your touches are gentle but your intentions aren't, and she knows it. "am i pretty enough yet?" she teases. you rest your chin on her shoulder, dig down. "you’re easily the most beautiful thing i’ve ever seen." her pupils dilate and her legs part, so you reach a hand around her waist to drag between them.

♱ the other vampires think it's sweet, how you wait up for her. they don't see how you position yourself by windows, arranging your reflection to watch all the doors. how your devotion has teeth.

♱ you keep her schedule in a leather-bound book, writing in codes you invented as a child. meetings marked in red ink, kills in black, feeding times in gold. "my good little wife," she coos, but you catch her studying the patterns you create, trying to decode your secrets.

♱ sometimes she brings you presents from her hunts—jewelry still warm from its previous owners, books with bloodstained pages. you accept them with genuine delight, arrange them carefully in your shared space. "magpie," she calls you fondly. "collecting pretty things." you don't tell her that she was your first collection. your most prized.

♱ your bedroom becomes a museum of decadent violence—diamond necklaces with broken clasps, antique daggers hung like artwork, silk sheets that have seen both birth and death. you keep her arm's spare parts in a velvet-lined box beside your perfumes.

♱ "do you ever regret it?" she asks one night, watching you stitch up a wound on her human arm. your needle is silver, your thread is silk, your hands are sure. "falling in love with someone—someone like me?"

♱ you tie off the suture with precise fingers. "you simply have claws and i’ve always believed love was meant to scar." she kisses you, surging forward to suck you up.

bonus: vi.

♱ you first notice her at the local underground fighting rings, all raw power and feral grins. you can smell what she is - werewolf, obviously - but she's so young and unrefined in her movements that you assume she must be newly turned. still, something about her draws your centuries-old heart.

♱ you only dare to attend the fights under the guise of accompanying your brother, a known patron of these brutal entertainments. each night you tell yourself you'll stop coming, stop watching her. each night you fail, drawn to the way she dominates the ring with savage grace. you wonder if she could make you fall like that.

♱ she catches you watching one night, corners you in the shadowy hallway with a grin that's all teeth. "see something you like, vamp?" she asks, and you flush.

♱ you turn, run away, your chest clenching tightly as you remember her in the privacy of your rooms. your fingers work deep inside you and you let out a small wail as you think of her tattooed hands inside you instead.

♱ she keeps showing up at your usual haunts, those golden eyes following you with an intensity that makes your dead heart flutter. when she finally approaches you again, her flirting is clumsier but endearing, and you find yourself charmed by this baby wolf despite yourself.

♱ “it’s good to meet you under proper circumstances, vi,” you say and her eyes shine at her name.

♱ your "guidance" begins with teaching her to hunt properly, but she always seems to know exactly where to find her prey. you chalk it up to natural instinct until you notice how the other wolves defer to her in passing. still, the way she looks at you with those eager eyes makes you forget your suspicions.

♱ quiet moments become your undoing - the way she brings you still-warm blood in crystal glasses, how she curls around you on cold mornings like you're pack. you find yourself sharing centuries of secrets, and she listens with an ancient patience that should have been your first clue.

♱ the first time she takes you to her territory, deep in the woods where the trees whisper ancient songs, you feel the power thrumming through the earth. she presses you against the bark and holds you as you’re ravaged by the first feel of the werewolf bond. you let her. her hands leave bruises that heal too quickly.

♱ you convince yourself it's only in your head, her unwavering attention, just the mental thrill of forbidden fruit. but then she starts leaving little gifts where only you'll find them - a baby blue ribbon for your throat or hair, a wolf's tooth on a golden chain. each token makes your dead heart ache with something you dare not name.

♱ but the world cannot allow you peace. the tension between covens and packs grows thicker than old blood. you see it in the way your kind bare their fangs at passing wolves, in how the wolves' eyes gleam with barely contained violence in return.

♱ still, you meet her in secret, pretending the world isn't fracturing around you.

♱ when the council announces the marriage alliances, you volunteer quickly - anything to make living easier for her. she is young, has so much ahead of her. you arrive at court in your finest blacks, ready to do your duty. then you see her standing among the pack leaders, power radiating from her like the sun.

♱ it's when, in the middle of this supernatural court, that someone addresses her as "heir apparent" and your world tilts on its axis. the realization hits like a stake to the heart.

♱ vi, heir to the most powerful pack in the territory, had been letting you believe she was some untrained pup. the way you’ve been treating her is deeply disgraceful. you can feel her eyes burning into you as you swear your agreement to whatever contract, make your excuses, and flee under the pretense of preparing for the following diplomatic talks.

♱ your pride wounded, you avoid her for days that stretch into weeks. but she's persistent - leaving gifts at your door, handwritten notes that smell of earth and pine. your resolve weakens with each gesture, even as you try to stay angry

♱ she finds you anyway, because of course she does. she corners you in your own haven, and there's nothing puppy-like about her now. her power fills the room like smoke, making your knees weak. "enough games," she orders, and when she kisses you this time, there's no pretense of submission.

♱ "i know i withheld, but i only wanted to keep this.” you say nothing, raise a hand to sound the servants bell. she grasps your fingers, holds your hand. “i know you’re upset, but did you really think i'd let them marry you off to some other wolf?" she’s walking you forward, backing you against the library shelves.

♱ "i've been working for months to position myself as the logical choice for this alliance." her laugh is dark and rich against your throat. “even brought up the damn idea myself.”

♱ “i wasn’t listening,” you finally say. “i only answered to leave faster. to be less humiliated.” she softens at that.

♱ "that wasn’t ever the intention, my love.” you look away. “but did you really think i was some newborn pup?" she whispers against your throat, teeth grazing your skin. "i've been alpha-in-training since before you noticed your first gray hair, little bat."

♱ "all those nights at the fights," she continues, "watching you try to hide your interest from your brother, from everyone. knowing you thought you were being so careful with the naïve little wolf." her hands grip your hips possessively. "when really, i was just waiting for the perfect moment to claim what's mine.”

♱ the way she manhandles you onto your own bed leaves no doubt about who's really in charge.

♱ "my sweet girl," she groans as she marks your throat, your chest, your thighs. "watching you try to show me how to track when i could smell your desire from miles away. how to fight when i've led warriors. but gods, the way you touched me like i was new to this world…"

♱ she bullies her fingers into you, milks you until you cry. after, her mouth finds your cunt and she eats of you—slurping so loudly that you cover your face with embarrassment. she only grins, laps at you harder. you white out as she orders you to cum again.

♱ and so the war that threatened to tear your worlds apart becomes the very thing that lets you keep her. your nights are filled with new lessons now - how her pack honors the old ways, how the moon-song flows through her bloodline. in public, you play the part of diplomatic necessity. in private, she follows your body like law until your weeping and can barely stay up.

♱ she returns from hunts, blood-drunk and fierce but still gentle as she pulls you close. you think that perhaps being prey wasn’t the worst thing. this was your way of finally belonging to something wild and true.

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kirammanswifey · 2 days ago

Text

arcane characters proposing x fem reader

characters: viktor, jinx, vi, caitlyn, jayce, ekko, silco, mel and sevika.

writer's note: it was so satisfying to have written this after so much dramaaaa. i really liked this dynamic and i'll exploit it with so much more scenarios so be prepared for a lot of fluff, btw my favorite proposal was jayce's, he was all cute and clumsy. as you already know request are open ;)

Viktor

The silence in the lab is heavy, interrupted only by the soft hum of the machines he has designed himself. You’re beside him, watching how his fingers move with skill, adjusting a piece of the contraption he holds in his hands. The dim light from the lamps reflects on his face, casting shadows that highlight the features of his face, always so serious, so focused. But in his eyes, there’s something different today. Something... softer, deeper.

You’re used to seeing him in his colder, distant side, but something has changed. There’s a strange calmness in his presence. When he looks up and meets your gaze, his lips curl slightly, a small but meaningful smile.

"Science is my life," he says in his deep, measured tone, as if evaluating each word before speaking. "And it always has been. But some time ago, something changed. Something that... has nothing to do with experiments or formulas. Something I can’t measure or control."

He looks at you with an intensity that feels almost uncomfortable, as if he were exposed, vulnerable, on ground where he doesn’t have all the answers. His voice, though firm, carries a vulnerability he rarely shows.

"You’ve given me more than I thought I needed," he continues, his eyes never leaving yours. "It’s not just what you’ve done for me in the lab. It’s... what you’ve done for me as a person. You’ve been my anchor, my reason to keep going when everything seemed lost. In a world that doesn’t have clear answers, you’re the only certainty I have."

The distance between the two of you seems to shorten. Viktor takes a step toward you, although his movements are slow, as if each one carries meaning. He stops beside you, almost as if it were a gesture of trust, of allowing himself to be vulnerable in your presence. He closes his eyes for a moment, as if preparing to say something that has taken him a long time to decide.

"What I’m about to say... doesn’t have any exact formula. No calculation that validates it," he says, and you can see his hands tremble slightly. "But I know that, with everything I’ve done, with everything I still want to do, I would never feel complete without you."

His voice is soft now, much quieter, as if what he’s about to say is a secret, one he’s revealing only to you.

"I’ve seen you beyond the brilliant mind, beyond the scientist who always challenges me. I’ve seen you as someone who, no matter how many times I shut myself off from the world, continues to be by my side, expecting nothing more than... to be with me."

He takes something from his pocket. A small metal case. He opens the lid carefully, revealing a simple ring, but with an elegance that only he could have imagined and created. The Hextech light reflects off the blue stone, casting glimmers that make your breath catch for a moment.

"My life wouldn’t be the same without you. And if there’s one thing in this world I don’t want to lose, it’s the opportunity to have you by my side forever."

Viktor looks at you deeply, waiting, more vulnerable than he’s ever been. And finally, after all the science, all the advancements, all the sacrifices... he asks you with a sincerity that cuts through the air:

"Will you marry me?"

The silence that follows is absolute. You stay motionless, unable to articulate a word. The weight of his declaration, of his vulnerability, pierces you, but instead of an immediate response, you dive into the intensity of his eyes, looking for something, any sign, any confirmation that this isn’t a dream. Viktor begins to worry, and the discomfort is reflected on his face.

"It’s a shame... I can’t do it the conventional way, kneeling..." he murmurs, his voice trembling. "But... I guess..."

You can’t let him finish the sentence. The anxiety in his eyes, the insecurity in his posture, prevents you from doing so. You move quickly, placing your lips on his with a soft kiss, but one filled with everything you can’t put into words. The world seems to fade away, and all that remains is him, the beating of your heart, and that silent connection between you two.

When you finally pull away, his gaze is still fixed on you, expectant, anxious. With a tenderness that comes from deep within, you take his face in your hands, your fingers caressing his skin as if it were the most precious thing in the world. And it was. He was the most precious thing in your world.

You look deeply into his eyes, every word that leaves your mouth filled with love, promises, and everything you haven’t said until now.

"Yes, Viktor... yes, yes, yes. Always yes."

The air between you both is filled with a new energy, one that needs no more words, because the simple fact of being together is enough.

Jinx

The night has fallen, but it’s not a peaceful one. The air is charged with electricity, as if the whole world is waiting for something, and you, trapped in the whirlwind of the city, can’t help but feel that something is about to explode. Literally.

You walk through the dark alleys of the Undercity, the neon lights flickering around you, when suddenly, a familiar laugh makes you turn. Jinx appears, her electric blue hair waving in the wind and a spark of madness in her eyes. She’s holding a large, seemingly heavy box in her hands, grinning mischievously.

“Surprise!” she says, her voice overflowing with excitement. “I’ve got something incredible to show you. It’s bigger than anything you’ve ever seen!”

Before you can say anything, she grabs your hand and drags you toward an open space, where a small platform is set up, filled with wires and explosives. The sense of danger is in the air, but it’s impossible not to feel the adrenaline she radiates. You know that with Jinx, you can’t expect anything conventional, but that’s what makes her so unpredictable. So... perfect.

“What are you doing?” you ask, although you can already imagine the kind of madness she has in mind.

“Doing what I’ve always wanted to do! A celebration of love that no one will ever forget!” she replies, her smile so wide it almost lights up the city’s darkness.

Jinx runs toward an improvised control panel and presses a button with exaggerated theatricality, as if it were a grand revelation. Suddenly, the sky lights up. A flash of colors bursts above you, as if the very chaos inside her wanted to spill over into the universe. Fireworks. A visual spectacle so dazzling that it takes your breath away. It’s as if the whole city is alive, as if life and death themselves were dancing in the sky.

While the explosions of colors fill the air, Jinx approaches you, her eyes sparkling as if she had immersed herself in her own world of madness and love. She’s not one to beat around the bush or speak sweetly, so when she takes your face in her hands, her fingers cold but full of energy, you know what she’s about to say is as unexpected as everything she does.

“Listen,” she says, looking at the colorful stars exploding above them. “What I love most about this world is the chaos. Things don’t have to be perfect or make sense! But... there’s one thing I’m absolutely sure of.”

Your heart beats faster, but you can’t help but smile at her wild declaration.

“I want you to be my chaos,” she continues, her voice full of determination. “I want you to join me in this journey of madness, to hold on to me when I explode, to keep laughing when the world falls apart, to follow me... because you and I are invincible!”

With a nearly mischievous grin, Jinx pulls something from her jacket: a ring. It’s quirky, like everything in her life, with visible gears and sparkling stones, some even crackling slightly, as if they’re about to explode.

“What I mean is... will you marry me? Tell me yes before I run out of fireworks!”

Jinx’s laughter is a little overwhelming, an echo of her own unpredictable essence. But despite all her chaos, there’s something so sincere in her eyes, something that makes you feel that, even though the world may be on the edge of destruction, this moment, this chaos, is the only thing that truly matters.

You stand there, speechless for a moment, overwhelmed by the light bombardment and the madness of the proposal, but when you see how she looks at you, waiting, you realize you have no doubts. Jinx has made it clear in her own language: love is a dangerous game, but you want to play it by her side.

With a brilliant smile, you approach her, and between the lights, amid the roar, you whisper:

“Yes, Jinx. Yes, to this chaos. Yes, always.”

You’re lying on the couch, comfortable and relaxed, with your head resting on Vi’s legs. The soft sound of the city that never sleeps drifts in from the window, but inside the house, the silence feels cozy. Vi is sitting, her muscles tense but calm, with a thoughtful expression as she plays with your hair, something that always soothes you.

The warmth of her presence surrounds you, and for a moment, everything seems perfect. But something in the air changes. Vi’s relaxed demeanor begins to feel different, as if she’s holding something back. You realize that, for the first time, she’s not being the confident Vi, the one who always has everything under control.

“Are you okay?” you ask, lifting your head from her legs to look at her directly. Vi doesn’t answer right away, and her fingers stop moving through your hair. There’s uncertainty in her eyes, something you haven’t seen before.

She shifts, crosses her legs, but doesn’t seem as comfortable as usual. “You know... I’m not really good with these things,” she says, her voice softer than usual. “I’m always the one who throws punches and solves everything my way, but now...” Her gaze drops to the floor for a moment, avoiding eye contact.

You look at her, sensing that something important is about to come out of her mouth. On her face, that nervous grimace is a clear sign that she’s struggling with herself. Something’s going on, but she doesn’t know how to express it.

“What I mean is... I’ve never been good with words,” Vi continues, letting out a nervous laugh. “And I’m not one for grand gestures or fancy things. I’m not someone who can give you the best, like... you know, expensive jewelry or fancy places. But there’s something I know I want.”

Vi takes something from her pocket, and when you see it, a small ring appears between her fingers. It’s not shiny or flashy. It’s simple, made of metal with a rustic design, almost as if she made it herself. A small symbol of her effort and her love.

“This... isn’t much,” she says, looking at the ring with a slight embarrassment. “I got it with what I could save. It’s not perfect, but... I want it to be a symbol of who I am for you. Of everything we’ve been through together. And... I want us to be together. I want to spend the rest of my life with you, even if I’m not the best at this. Because, despite everything, I love you more than I can put into words.”

Vi looks at the ring like it’s a simple object, but in her eyes, you can see how much it means to her. Her insecurity is palpable, as if she’s waiting for the ring to not be enough. But you know that’s not what matters. You know it’s all she has to offer you, and that’s what makes this moment even more special.

You see her nervous, waiting for a response, and you can’t help but smile. You get up and stand in front of her, gently touching her hands, and when you look at her, the insecurity on her face melts away, though her voice is still a fearful whisper.

“Vi,” you say, with a sincere smile. “I don’t care about the ring, I don’t care about what you couldn’t give me. What matters is that you’ve shown me more love than I ever imagined. Yes, I want to marry you. Yes, I always want to be with you, by your side.”

Vi looks at you as if she can’t believe what she just heard. Her face lights up with a pure expression of relief and happiness. Even though the words aren’t perfect, everything this moment means is in her eyes. She lets out a nervous laugh and, without thinking, pulls you into a tight hug.

“I knew you’d say yes,” she whispers, but her voice is full of emotion. And you, amid the laughter and the embrace, know that despite everything that has happened, this moment couldn’t be more perfect.

Caitlyn

Night has fallen over Piltover, and the city lights shine with a golden glow, reflecting the majesty of the buildings and the life that has always characterized this city. Caitlyn has invited you to dinner at one of the most exclusive restaurants in town, an elegant place, tastefully decorated, where the panoramic view takes your breath away. The atmosphere is calm, yet filled with a sophisticated air. The murmurs of other diners do not interrupt the softness of the background music.

Caitlyn looks impeccable, as always, in her elegant dress that accentuates her delicate but strong features. The soft candlelight flickers on her face, highlighting the concentration in her eyes. From the moment you entered the restaurant, you could sense something in the air, but she is determined to maintain composure, even though her hands occasionally move restlessly over the table.

The dinner goes on as usual, with Caitlyn talking about her latest research advancements, her projects, and concerns about the future of Piltover. But even though the topic is important and her voice is firm, you can't help but notice the tension inside her. She drinks a bit more wine than she normally would, and from time to time, her fingers play with the glass as if she is seeking comfort.

"I've been waiting for this," she says suddenly, her eyes fixed on you, although her tone betrays her nervousness. "I don't know if I'm good at this, but I think... well, I need to be honest. I don't like hiding things, and this is important."

Your eyes meet hers, noticing how a slight blush begins to appear on her cheeks. Caitlyn, the woman who always has a logical answer for everything, now looks completely vulnerable. But it's not her nervousness that makes you smile; it's the way she looks at you, as if this moment is more important than any project or achievement.

Caitlyn sighs deeply and finally gets up from her chair, giving you a little spin around the table. You don't know if it's to calm herself or because she needs to distract her thoughts, but she approaches slowly, as if each step is a challenge. Her hands tremble slightly as she places them on the table, and you realize that something very important is about to happen.

"I know this isn't something I planned in the traditional way," she says, her voice soft but firm, "but... this is how I feel. And I want you to know." She lifts her hand, showing you a small ring, whose shine is subtle but radiant. It is a delicate ring, with a simple yet elegant design, of impeccable quality. And when you see it, you realize it's not just any jewel.

It's the ring her mother wore at her wedding, the same one Caitlyn had seen so many times, the one she had touched with so much love when she was a child. A symbol of tradition, of enduring love. A symbol of family.

"This is my mother's ring," Caitlyn says, almost whispering. "I know it's not a modern ring, nor expensive compared to what I could buy, but... it holds a very special meaning. For me, it means everything I want to offer you. My family, my love, my commitment. My promise that I'll always be by your side."

She looks at you, her eyes shining with emotion, as if it were the first time she showed something so intimate, so hers. There are no doubts in her gaze, only a deep certainty of what she's saying, but her voice remains soft, sincere.

"I love you," she says, with a clarity that reaches straight to your heart. "And I want you to be my partner in all of this, not just in the good moments, but in the difficult ones. Because, for me, there is no one else I want to be with. Only you."

Caitlyn places the ring in front of you, and for a moment, all the bustle of the restaurant disappears. Only the soft sound of her breath and the beating of your heart remain. You know what you have to do, but this moment feels so perfect, so genuine, that the words seem stuck in your throat. All you want to do is take her hand, look her in the eyes, and say yes.

Finally, your words come out with a wide smile. "Yes, Cait. Yes, I want to spend my life with you."

Caitlyn's eyes light up with a happiness that makes you feel as if everything is in its place, as if nothing else matters about what may come in the future. This moment, this commitment, is everything you both needed.

Caitlyn hugs you tightly, and the ring shines on your finger, a symbol of a pure and deep love, born from honesty, vulnerability, and sincerity from a woman who, despite her external perfection, has always been real with you.

Jayce

The day had been long and full of work, but Jayce, with his determined spirit, decided to surprise you. Instead of taking you to a fancy restaurant or preparing something sophisticated, he had a much bolder idea—a homemade dinner. That made you smile immediately, knowing that Jayce wasn’t exactly an expert chef. But you didn’t care; the idea of sharing something so personal with him excited you more than any gourmet dinner.

When you entered the kitchen, you found him with an expression of total concentration, mixing ingredients in a way that left much to be desired, but you found it charming. He had made pasta, something simple, but it had surely cost him more effort than he wanted to admit.

"Surprise!" he said as he saw you approach. Although the dish wasn’t a culinary masterpiece, you sat with him, and despite the imperfections, you enjoyed every bite. The smile on his face as he watched you eat was enough to make everything seem perfect. And when, after a while of talking and laughing, you got up to go to the bathroom, he took the opportunity to open a special bottle of wine.

When you returned, the glass was ready, and seeing the wine in it and the label on the bottle, your eyes lit up with excitement. It was your favorite wine! You couldn’t stop smiling as you smelled it and took a small sip.

But then, suddenly, something wasn’t right. A strange piece caught in your throat made you cough hard. The wine spilled from your mouth as you tried to catch your breath, and in the midst of coughing, a strange sensation made you feel as if something was stuck there. In an instant, Jayce was by your side, looking at you with panic.

"What happened?! Are you okay?!"

With a quick maneuver, almost instinctively, Jayce patted your back and, with a racing heart, helped you spit out what was stuck in your throat. To both of your surprise, what came out was not just a piece of food, but a small ring now resting in your hand.

Jayce was in shock, looking at the ring and then at you, completely red with embarrassment. "Oh no! That wasn’t part of the plan! How did that get there? Everything has gone wrong... I’m sorry, I never imagined this would happen."

You laughed, almost hysterically, as you cleaned the ring with a napkin and held it in your palm. Despite the comical situation, Jayce was clearly frustrated. He wanted everything to be perfect, but you didn’t care. It was clear that all that mattered was that he was there, in front of you, despite the fiasco.

"Are you going to ask me or not?" you asked, the smile on your lips growing as you watched his face change from despair to disbelief.

Jayce looked at you, and for a moment, he didn’t know what to say. He was nervous, completely out of place. "Really? Now…?" he asked, with a nervous laugh. But it didn’t take long for him to do what he had to do. With a shy but genuine smile, he knelt before you, somewhat clumsy but sincere, and with a nervous laugh, he said:

"Well… since it seems I can’t do anything right today, maybe this will be the one thing that goes well. Will you marry me?"

The scene, as clumsy as it was funny, made you laugh even more, but in the end, all that mattered was that he was there, in his own way, loving you. The ring, somewhat imperfect in all its disorder, represented more love than anyone could ask for. Without thinking any further, you took his face in your hands and kissed him tenderly, answering in the simplest yet most profound way possible:

"Yes, Jayce. I do."

Ekko

The Undercity held its own kind of magic. The faint lights of the streetlamps flickered through the mist, and the distant sounds of the markets blended with the steady flow of water running through the pipes. You were sitting on an improvised bench in a hidden corner, surrounded by the crumbling walls, but to you, this place felt like the very heart of the world. Ekko had made it a refuge for the two of you, a space where you could escape from the chaos and, for a moment, forget about everything else except the present.

There was something special about that night. The way Ekko looked at you, the spark in his eyes... it wasn’t like the times before. There was something deeper now, a sense of resolution, as if he was on the verge of making a decision that would change everything. And he did.

"You know," Ekko began, his voice more serious than usual, "I've been thinking a lot about things lately. About how everything we've lived through... everything we've overcome... has changed us." His words carried a weight they usually didn’t.

The conversation didn't seem to be heading towards a cheerful topic, but there was something in the air that told you what was coming was important. You leaned in a little closer, sensing that the atmosphere was charged with something.

He pulled a small device from his pocket, something that looked like an old piece of machinery, but upon closer inspection, you realized it was no ordinary gadget. It was a pocket watch, but not the kind you'd find in a store. This one was modified, a timepiece that seemed designed not only to measure time but also to control something else... something intangible, like destiny. It was something Ekko had built over the years, a reflection of his constant efforts to understand the flow of time.

"This watch," he said with a faint smile on his lips, "is a reminder. A reminder that even when things seem out of control, we can always find a way to move forward. Like us, always moving forward, no matter what comes our way."

He looked at you with a seriousness you’d never seen from him before, and for a moment, he fell silent, as if searching for the right words.

"And… what I’m trying to say is that, even though we don’t have control over time, even though we can’t stop what’s coming, I want you to keep walking by my side. Every second, every minute, every step."

Despite his usual relaxed demeanor, in that moment he seemed more vulnerable than ever. The watch he showed you wasn’t just a machine; it was a symbol of what he had been searching for his whole life: a way to stop time, so that the most important moments wouldn’t slip away.

"So, if at any point you feel the same way," he added, gently taking your hand, "I’d like this... what we’re living... to never end. That we can keep making memories together. I don’t know if there’s a right way to ask, but... would you like to be with me, always?"

He looked at you with a vulnerability you’d never seen before, almost as if afraid you might say something that would break the magic of the moment.

You couldn’t help but smile, at first as if you were in shock, speechless. This Ekko, the one who always had a plan, the one who had faced a thousand battles, was now asking you to be by his side forever, with a sincerity he rarely showed. It wasn’t a grand traditional gesture, but to you, it was even more meaningful.

You were silent for a few seconds, and that made Ekko feel even more unsure, his gaze beginning to fade as if he thought you had already decided not to answer. But before he could pull away or say anything more, you caught him, quickly closing the distance between you.

"Yes," you whispered, but it was a resounding yes. "Yes, Ekko, I want to be with you. Always. I don’t need a watch or a perfect plan. I just need you."

You held his hand more firmly, looking into his eyes, and his lips formed a slight smile, though his face still carried a trace of nervousness.

"Together, forever, babe," he said, pulling you close and resting your back against his chest. You smiled happily as his arms wrapped around you.

You took the watch and kissed it, feeling the cold scent of rusted metal.

"Forever," you replied, and that word felt like the beginning of something eternal.

Silco

It was another night when the soft light of candles flickered, casting shadows in the corners of the room. The atmosphere in Silco's office was charged with tension, as always, but tonight something felt different. The usual coldness of the room had transformed into something warmer. On the walls, shadows danced to the rhythm of the flames, and the scattered papers on his desk seemed to tell stories of past struggles and uncertain victories.

However, Silco wasn’t at his desk. He stood in the center of the room, silently watching you as you leaned against the door, returning his gaze. His presence was magnetic, as always, but there was something different about him tonight. Something more vulnerable in his stance, as if he had been waiting for you—or rather, waiting for you to understand what lay beneath those deep eyes.

“This is a different kind of night,” Silco spoke, his voice grave, deliberate, as if weighing each word. He motioned for you to come closer, but not to him—toward the far side of the room. A table, delicately designed, rested just beneath a window overlooking the chaotic landscape of the Undercity.

As you approached, you noticed several boxes on the table, some open, some closed. One wooden box caught your eye. Silco’s gaze hardened on it, almost as if he feared what might happen when it was opened, or perhaps what it represented. He moved toward it slowly, like someone executing a carefully planned act, and gently opened the box.

Inside lay a ring. It wasn’t the kind of ring you’d expect from someone like Silco—no extravagant jewels, no grand display of wealth. Yet, there was something profound about it. The fine, dark metalwork and the stone that caught the light in a way you couldn’t ignore seemed to tell a story. It was as if the ring itself embodied both the harshness of his life and the softness of feelings he had long kept hidden.

“This is the kind of thing I never cared for,” he said, his tone mixing toughness with an unexpected sincerity. “A symbol without meaning. But since you arrived, I’ve learned that there are things worth more than logic.”

For the first time in what seemed like forever, Silco showed a hint of insecurity. His gaze clouded for a moment, as if he feared your reaction. But instead of saying more, he stepped closer, the ring in his hand, and slowly sank to his knee before you.

“I’ve sacrificed so much, maybe that’s why I never let myself desire more. But now I know. I know because I want you. And because I don’t want to do this alone.”

There was no grand gesture, no theatrics, but the weight of sincerity in his simple act stunned you. He looked up at you, his eyes full of vulnerability, asking for something more than anyone had ever dared to ask before.

“Will you marry me?”

The silence in the room was thick, filled with everything Silco couldn’t say but what his proposal meant. It wasn’t a casual request—it was a serious commitment, as serious as everything he’d fought for in his life.

For a moment, you stood still, heart racing—not because of the surprise, but because of the sheer intensity of his words and the unexpected gesture. You had seen the calculating side of Silco, the way he controlled every aspect of his life, every decision with precision. But this—this was something entirely different. It was the purest form of vulnerability, someone willing to give it all up for love, to risk everything they’d built for someone who meant more than any achievement.

Finally, you took a deep breath and, with a soft smile, nodded. “Yes,” you said, your voice steady but full of emotion. “There is nothing I want more in this world than to be your wife.”

The air shifted instantly. Silco stood slowly, and his normally implacable face softened. It was as if he had laid down an immense weight, as if the future finally had a clear purpose.

Without another word, he pulled you into his arms. In that moment, the shadows in the room seemed lighter, less oppressive. With the promise of a future together, everything that had once seemed distant, unreachable, now felt within both your grasps.

Mel

It was a quiet night, one of those where the sounds of the city reached you muffled, as if time was willing to grant you a break. Mel's living room, as always, was a perfect display of elegance and order, but something about the atmosphere that night felt different, warmer, more intimate. The soft light from the lamps illuminated the carefully arranged furniture, and there was a rare calm in the air, something that only happened when the worries of the outside world seemed to vanish for a moment.

Mel had invited you to her house that night, but not for dinner or a formal event. Instead, she had wanted to show you something more, something personal. And seeing the invitation in her eyes, you knew this moment was special.

When you entered, the house had a more relaxed vibe than usual. The fireplace flickered softly in the background, and the air was filled with the delicate scent of incense. However, what truly caught your attention was what was in the center of the room. A large painting, a framed portrait, was leaning against the wall, carefully placed under a soft light.

"I want you to see this," Mel said with a slight smile, her usually firm voice now tinged with an unexpected sweetness. She approached you, guiding you toward the painting. Though her face didn’t give it away, there was a slight tension in her movements, as if she was waiting for your reaction.

You stepped closer to the portrait, and your breath caught as you saw the image in front of you. It was a portrait of you, painted with a level of detail that only someone like Mel could have achieved. Every line, every shadow seemed to capture something beyond your appearance: a reflection of your being, how she saw you. It wasn’t just a painting; it was an expression of how Mel perceived you, something that had been rendered with such dedication that the work itself seemed to come alive.

"It’s… incredible," you murmured, unable to articulate a more complete response. Mel watched your reaction, her eyes fixed on you, but without saying a word. You knew that, for her, this work meant far more than just a portrait. It was a piece of her soul, an extension of her deepest feelings.

"I did it because… because I wanted to capture something that could never be expressed just with words," Mel said, her tone calm but loaded with meaning. "It’s hard for me to share something so… personal, but with you, I feel like it makes sense."

You turned toward her, surprised by the vulnerability she was showing, so rare in the woman who had always kept everything under control. But there was something in her gaze, something in her posture, that made you see what she truly felt.

Mel took a step toward you, her gaze softening even further. "You are… the only person who has truly shown me what it means to let someone in so deeply. I’ve spent my whole life building walls, creating an image of control, but you… you’ve shown me something I didn’t even know I needed."

There was a softness in her words that you had never heard before. You knew her as a strong, calculating woman, always impeccable. But there, in that moment, in front of you, there was something more, something that only you had been able to awaken in her.

"And now I want you to… be part of my life. I want you not only to be part of this portrait, but of everything I’ve built. I’ve had all the power in the world, all the control I could wish for, but that doesn’t make sense without someone like you by my side."

Mel paused, almost as if she were fighting against herself, and then, with a smooth movement, extended her hand toward you. In her palm rested a small box, which she carefully opened, revealing a simple but elegant ring. It was beautiful but not ostentatious, with a unique beauty, a design that spoke of her personality: refined, but with a subtle touch of surprise. The golden ring glimmered softly under the candlelight, like a reflection of the same gentleness Mel had shown in her words.

"I want you to be my partner," Mel said, her voice a barely audible whisper, but filled with meaning. "Will you marry me?"

The moment was marked by a tense silence, loaded with emotion. Mel wasn’t seeking a grand declaration or an ostentatious proposal. She only wanted to share her life with you, in the way she knew how to do it: with a sincerity that only she could offer.

Without thinking, you stepped closer to her, took her face in your hands, and without saying another word, kissed her softly. The kiss wasn’t just a response to her proposal, but an affirmation of everything you shared, of everything that moment meant.

When you pulled away, her eyes were filled with something you had never seen before: vulnerability, hope, love. You took her hand, and with a warm smile, you said what she had been waiting to hear, what you both knew was true.

"Yes, Mel. Yes. I’ve always wanted this, to share all of this with you."

Mel smiled, her face lit by a deep emotion she had never shown before. Without saying another word, she hugged you, and in that embrace was everything she couldn’t say with words. The future, her promises, her fears, her desires. It was all there, intertwined in an embrace as warm as the painting she had created just for you.

Sevika

It had been a long and dangerous night, more than either of us had anticipated. You had gotten yourself into a mess, bigger than anyone else would have dared to handle, but there you were, beside Sevika, helping her get out of danger. There were a few of Silco's enemies, but with her strength and your ingenuity, you managed to make it all end in the blink of an eye. The tension eased, and calm washed over everything like a wave.

The air was charged with adrenaline, but also with a strange serenity when the two of you were finally away from danger. Sevika, with her impassive face and intense eyes, looked at you with a mix of gratitude and something more. You couldn’t say it was love at first sight or anything so romantic, but there was something about that moment that felt different, something raw, something real.

You stayed looking at her while both of you took a breath, your bodies still trembling slightly from the tension. She was so close you could feel her breath, as heavy and rhythmic as your own. Without warning, her eyes locked with yours, and for a moment, the outside world disappeared. There were no more enemies, no more worries, just the two of you.

Sevika didn’t speak at first. The full moon illuminated the corner where you were, but it was her silence that spoke volumes. Then, as if it were the most natural thing in the world, her low voice cut through the air:

"Do you want to marry me?"

You stopped, surprised. Had she really said that? Or was it one of her usual jokes? It couldn’t have been more unexpected, could it? You laughed lightly, thinking it must have been a joke. But when you looked into her eyes, as serious as always, a knot formed in your stomach. Sevika wasn’t joking. Not this time.

"Just like that, out of the blue?" you asked, unable to suppress a smile of disbelief. It was as if all the chaos of the night hadn’t been enough to spill over into the unpredictability of her proposal.

She didn’t flinch, her lips curving into a slight smile, but her eyes stayed fixed on you, determined. "And why not? The best things come out of nowhere, don’t they?" she said with a tone that left no room for doubt. Her voice was strong, direct, but there was a softness hidden beneath her arrogance. Sevika had never been one for too many words, but the few she spoke always carried weight. As if nothing in her was accidental, and every decision she made was calculated down to the last detail.

She looked at you for a moment, evaluating you with the same intensity she always did, then added, "So, do you want to be my little, spoiled wife? I promise to put up with your snoring and you kicking me out of bed for all eternity." She joked, a low laugh escaping her chest, and you were a little surprised by the lightness in her tone, as if, in the seriousness of the situation, Sevika also needed to soften the moment in her own way.

Your reaction was automatic, more because of the teasing tone than the content of what she said. "Hey! I don’t snore that much!" you exclaimed, pretending to be offended, but the truth was, you couldn’t really be angry. You couldn’t be upset, because there was something about her that drew you in in a very unique way.

So, you decided to raise your right hand and move your ring finger. "No ring, no wedding," you warned, then flicked your hair in the air. "I’m not a girl who settles for little, and you know that."

Sevika approached you, never losing her smile. "Believe me, sweetheart, I’ll buy you the biggest, most expensive ring in the world. Tell me how many carats you want, and I’ll get it exactly how you ask for it." Her promise was full of a confidence only she could have. Every word sounded so convincing, so solid, that there was no room for doubt. Sevika never made empty promises, and this was no exception.

Her voice was deep, playful, as if she was willing to fulfill anything asked of her. You smiled, pleased, but something in her attitude sparked a mischievous glint in your eyes. Instead of continuing the joke, you went straight to the point and leaned close to her ear, whispering with a touch of playful innuendo:

"Since the best things come out of nowhere, why don’t we fast forward to the honeymoon?"

Your whisper was soft, but with an undertone of suggestion that didn’t go unnoticed. Sevika blinked a couple of times, clearly surprised by your response. But instead of being bothered, something on her face shifted, and a sideways smile appeared on her lips, as if you had pulled the idea right out of her head.

"I like that," she said, her tone now low and filled with palpable desire. "I love that you don’t beat around the bush." Her voice was hushed, heavy with desire, accentuated by how close she was to you. "Let’s make this night something much more... memorable."

Suddenly, the environment around you both ceased to exist. Only her eyes, the heat of her body near yours, and the certainty that, despite everything, something had begun in an unexpected way remained. The best things come out of nowhere, and tonight, Sevika had shown you that her way of loving, though fierce and daring, was also the most sincere you had ever known.

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bigriceenthusiast · 2 days ago

Text

jinx they could never make me hate you

HEY that's MY emotional support morally ambiguous misunderstood full of trauma touch starved yearning for love drenched in blood responsible for numerous atrocities comfort character who is TRYING & u will TREAT them with RESPECT

#jinx #jinx arcane #arcane

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kirammanswifey · 3 days ago

Note

Will you, pretty please, make a pt 2 of arcane characters breaking up with their so? You know, some fluff to cure our wounds…

arcane characters reconcile with you after the breakup x fem reader

characters: viktor, jinx, vi, caitlyn, jayce, ekko, silco, mel and sevika.

writer's note: let's be honest, both you and i needed this, i love a bit of drama but a bit of fluff is also necessary sometimes, and it was so nice to write this, i loved all the reconciliations, especially caitlyn's. thank you so much for all the support you give me, it makes me want to keep creating more and more content. as you know the requests are open ;)

break up link:

alternative sad final link:

@sugurulefttesticle thanks for the support babe :3

Viktor

The laboratory was shrouded in an unsettling gloom, the shadows cast by the machines seemed longer, darker. Loneliness had settled in every corner, but at the center of it all, Viktor was there, hunched over his plans, as if the weight of his thoughts was crushing him.

Since you had left, time had lost its meaning. The hours blurred into sleepless nights and frantic days of work. But nothing, no formula, no discovery, could fill the void you had left.

The door opened with a soft creak, but Viktor didn’t turn around. Perhaps he had imagined that sound before, hoping it was you, and he feared that this time it would be another illusion. However, your gentle steps echoed on the metal floor, and then his heart skipped a beat.

"Viktor..." your voice was barely a whisper, laden with emotion. "Please, look at me."

He closed his eyes, as if he needed to gather all his strength to do so. Slowly, he turned towards you, and seeing you there, a mix of surprise and something akin to relief crossed his face. But his eyes were filled with something deeper, a sadness he couldn’t hide.

“I didn’t think you would come back…” he said with a broken voice, barely audible. “After everything I did… I didn’t think I deserved your return.”

You stepped closer, each step carrying the intent to close the distance he had put between you. "Viktor, it was never about deserving. It’s about understanding that we need to face this together."

“I pushed you away because… I’m afraid,” he confessed, his voice trembling with the emotional weight. “Afraid that you’ll see me fail, that everything I am won’t be enough. Afraid that one day you’ll realize you can be happier without me.”

The weight of his words hit you like a wave, but you didn’t waver. “Viktor, we all have fears. But running from what scares us doesn’t make it go away. I’m here because I don’t want a future without you, even if it means facing our fears together.”

Viktor lowered his gaze, a silent tear falling down his cheek. “You are... the only thing that has kept me human. Without you, I become a machine, soulless, heartless. I don’t want to lose myself… I don’t want to lose you.”

Hearing those words, your own tears began to flow. You stepped closer to him, your hand reaching his face, gently caressing the cheek where the tear had fallen. “You won’t lose yourself, Viktor. Not as long as we’re together.”

He finally lifted his gaze, his eyes searching yours with a mix of desperation and hope. “How can you keep loving me after everything I’ve put you through?”

“Because I love you,” you said without hesitation. “Not for what you do, but for who you are, even when you can’t see it yourself.”

Viktor let out a sob he had been holding back, and without thinking twice, he moved towards you, wrapping you in his arms. It was a fragile embrace but full of promises. In that moment, you knew that, although the road would be difficult, together you could find a way to rebuild what had been broken.

Jinx

The night was heavy with rain and despair. Jinx stood at the edge of a building, her feet barely touching the edge as she gazed into the abyss below. The icy wind whipped her body, but she didn’t feel the cold. She was trapped in a whirlwind of dark thoughts, each more desperate than the last.

“End it,” the voices in her head whispered, cruel and persistent. “It’s best for everyone. Get rid of all the pain. You don’t deserve more.”

Her gaze was empty, lost in a place no one else could reach. She closed her eyes, letting the tears mix with the rain, allowing the weight of her emotions to push her further toward the edge.

But then, through the sound of the rain, she heard something. A voice. A familiar voice, filled with anguish. “Jinx, no, please... don’t do it.”

She opened her eyes slowly and saw you, soaked by the rain, your face marked by desperation and tears. You had run to her, not stopping, not thinking of the danger. Now you were there, fighting to reach her, fighting to bring her back.

“Why did you come?” she whispered, her voice trembling. “I told you to stay away... not to come back.”

“Because I can’t leave you alone,” you responded, taking a step closer, each movement filled with fear and love. “I love you, Jinx. I can’t lose you like this.”

She shook her head, the tears falling uncontrollably. “You shouldn’t love me. Not after everything I’ve done. I’m a mess. I’ll ruin you, like I ruin everything.”

“Let me decide that,” you said, your voice broken but firm. “You’re not a mess. You’re my baby, and I love you, even when everything seems to fall apart. I won’t leave you alone.”

Jinx stepped back slightly, as if your words hurt her more than anything else. “I always hurt people... I can’t stop. I don’t want to hurt you, but I always end up doing it.”

“I can take it,” you replied, stepping closer, extending your hands toward her, knowing you couldn’t rush her. “Because I’d rather be with you in your worst moments than lose you forever. You don’t have to face this alone. Let me help you.”

She trembled, the weight of her emotions too much to bear. “I’m scared... scared that I can’t stop, scared that this darkness will consume me. I don’t want you to sink with me.”

“We’ll sink together if we have to,” you promised, your hands still extended, waiting for her to reach you. “I don’t care how much it costs. I’m here to stay, Jinx. I won’t abandon you.”

For a long and painful moment, Jinx remained silent, her gaze filled with a sadness so deep it seemed impossible to heal. But finally, her hands moved, barely brushing yours at first, then clinging to them as if they were the only thing keeping her anchored to this world.

“Promise me you won’t leave me,” she whispered, her voice broken by anguish.

“I promise,” you said, squeezing her hands with all the love and desperation you felt. “No matter what happens, no matter how dark it gets, I’ll always be with you.”

With those words, Jinx stepped back from the edge and collapsed into your arms, her body shaken by heart-wrenching sobs. The storm still raged around them, but at that moment, they were bound by something stronger than fear: the promise not to abandon each other.

The weeks without Vi have been torment. Each day feels like a part of you fades a little more, as if her absence is slowly tearing your soul apart. Today, you’re in the gardens of your home, holding a photo in your hands: the first one you took with Vi, both smiling, happy, unaware of the pain that would come after. Tears blur your vision as your heart breaks over and over with the memories.

Then, you hear footsteps, and there she is, standing, her eyes filled with a mix of regret and desperation. You quickly try to dry your tears, to hide the photo, as if that could erase the pain consuming you.

“What are you doing here?” you ask, your voice trembling, not sure if you can bear what’s to come.

Vi takes a step forward, her expression more vulnerable than ever. “I miss you,” she says, her voice broken. “I’m sorry for everything I said, everything I did. I can’t live without you.”

You close your eyes, feeling every word of hers like a direct blow to your heart. “None of that matters now, Vi,” you respond, trying to maintain your firmness. “My family has decided to marry me to a member of the Piltover council.”

Vi looks at you, her face pale. “Marry?” she whispers, as if the word were a curse. “You can’t do it. I know you don’t love anyone else. You can’t love anyone but me.”

Tears threaten to return, but you hold them back. “It’s not my choice, Vi. They decide for me. You’re the one who left me, who pushed me into this destiny.”

“I was an idiot,” Vi admits, taking another step toward you. “I know. But I can’t let this happen. I’ll fight for you, even if I have to face the whole world. I won’t lose you, not like this.”

“And what will that change?” you shout, unable to contain the pain any longer. “You can’t fight everyone! You can’t change who I am, what they expect of me.”

Vi stops, her gaze fixed on yours, with an intensity that leaves you breathless. “The only time you’ll stand at an altar will be with me by your side,” she says with unbreakable firmness. “I won’t let you marry anyone else. Not as an act of pride, but because I love you, and I don’t want to live without you.”

“Vi, please,” you whisper, the tears now falling freely. “This is bigger than us. You can’t fix it with pretty words.”

“Then I’ll fix it with actions,” she responds, with a resolve you hadn’t seen before. “I’ll go wherever necessary, face your parents, that damn council, anyone who tries to come between us. I won’t let them take you from me.”

Her voice trembles, but her determination does not. “I don’t want you to be my savior,” you whisper, your voice almost inaudible. “I want you to be my partner, my equal. But I can’t do this alone, Vi. I can’t keep fighting if you’re not by my side.”

Vi comes closer, until the distance between you both disappears. “You’ll never be alone again,” she promises, her eyes shining with unshed tears. “I love you, and I swear I’ll fight for us, until my last breath. I won’t let them separate us, not them, not anyone.”

The weight of her words envelops you, and finally, you let yourself fall into her arms, allowing all the pain, fear, and contained love to overflow. Vi holds you tightly, whispering promises of a future together, promises that, this time, you’re willing to believe.

Caitlyn

The trial is a public spectacle, a circus meant to satisfy Piltover’s thirst for justice. You stand in the center of the room, hands tied behind your back, as the council leaders gaze at you coldly. The accusations fly over your head like sharp daggers: treason, conspiracy, disloyalty. All because you tried to talk to Ekko, to seek a peace you believed possible between the two cities.

Caitlyn stands at the back of the room, her face impassive, her gaze fixed on you. She hasn’t said a word since the trial began, and the emptiness in her expression breaks you more than any word of condemnation. You know she’s fighting internally, but her silence feels like a sentence in itself.

Finally, the judge announces the decision: "For the charges of treason, this court decrees that you will be stripped of your position as Enforcer and permanently exiled from Piltover."

The verdict falls like a hammer on your heart. You feel your world crumble in an instant. You look at Caitlyn, searching in her eyes for some sign of support, of compassion, but she remains motionless.

As the judge is about to strike the gavel to conclude the session, Caitlyn steps forward, her voice resonating with dangerous calm. "One moment."

The entire room turns toward her. Caitlyn advances with the elegance and authority she has always possessed, but there’s something new in her eyes, a spark of defiance.

"I cannot allow this sentence to be carried out," she says firmly. "This isn’t justice; it’s an act of fear and repression. The person you’re accusing only sought peace, a diplomatic solution to prevent more bloodshed."

The judge frowns, but Caitlyn continues before he can interrupt. "I am the leader of the Enforcers, and my loyalty is to true justice, not a system that punishes hope. If you expel my partner from this city, if you strip someone whose only crime was trying to save us all, then you’ll be provoking a rift you cannot control."

Caitlyn takes another step forward, and her voice lowers, but each word is a sharp edge. "I could easily take control, dismantle this corrupt system from within, and there would be nothing you could do to stop me. But that’s not the justice I seek. What I want is fairness, compassion, and truth."

The silence in the room is deafening. The council members exchange glances, understanding they are not dealing with someone who can be manipulated or intimidated.

After what feels like an eternity, the judge finally relents. "We will review the sentence. The accused will be sanctioned and will not be allowed to leave Piltover, but she will not be exiled or stripped of her position."

Caitlyn nods slightly, then approaches you, freeing you from your bonds with her own hands. "Let’s go," she murmurs, her voice soft yet filled with authority.

You leave the courtroom with her, and once you’re away from the others’ eyes, Caitlyn stops. For the first time, you see her tremble. "I’m sorry," she whispers, her eyes finally filling with tears. "I shouldn’t have doubted you. I shouldn’t have left you alone."

The vulnerability in her voice disarms you. Despite everything, despite the pain, you know Caitlyn did what she could to save you. "Cait," you say softly, taking her face in your hands. "What you just did... was the greatest act of love you could give me. You chose between authority and me, and you chose me."

She closes her eyes, tears falling freely. "It will always be you," she says, her voice trembling. "No matter the odds or the problems that come, I will always choose you. You are my justice, my reason, my everything."

The words sink into your heart, bringing overwhelming relief. You kiss her softly, sealing with that gesture the love that binds you. "You are my everything too, Cait," you whisper. "You always have been."

She holds you tightly, as if she’ll never let you go. "Together," she says in a whisper, her voice laden with emotion. "No matter what happens, we’ll face everything together. Because you are my choice, now and always."

Jayce

The air was thick with tension as the words that had been kept bottled up for so long finally exploded. Everything about him was focused on his ambition, on his vision for Piltover, and everything in you was hurt, torn apart by his indifference.

The last time you saw each other, it was a goodbye filled with cruel and cold words, an ending with no way back. You had decided that you could no longer be the shadow of his dreams, an accessory to the side of his grand plans. You didn’t want any more empty promises. You didn’t want to be the sacrifice.

But now, all that seemed about to change.

One day, you find yourself in your laboratory, lost in your thoughts, trying to push away the lingering pain. The door opens with a familiar creak, and your heart skips a beat without warning. It's not someone you expected to see. It’s him. Jayce.

Silence rises between the two of you. The air is heavy, as if time itself had stopped. He’s there, looking at you, but his gaze no longer holds the confidence it once had. In his eyes, there’s something else now: uncertainty, a faint glimmer of regret.

"I thought I understood," he says, his voice deep but hesitant. "I thought that what I was doing, the ambition, the future of Piltover... I thought it all had to be that way. That I had to leave everything behind, even you, if I wanted to get to where I am now."

You remain silent, the pain still fresh in your veins, but something inside you urges you to listen. You know that everything you’ve been through together can’t be left behind without an answer. You can’t help it, but something inside you breaks again at the sound of his voice, the same one that used to calm your fears, now trembling.

"But I haven’t forgotten you," he continues. "I haven’t stopped thinking about you, about us, about what we were. About what we could have been... if only I weren’t so blind."

You look at him, his presence so intense that it almost makes you doubt everything you thought you knew. "Then why are you here?" you ask, your heart pounding in your chest. "After everything you said... after everything that happened, why?"

Jayce takes a step towards you, hesitant but determined. "Because in the end, I realized that nothing is worth it if you’re not by my side. No matter how great Piltover becomes, no matter how grand my legacy is, if I don’t share that greatness with the person who truly matters."

His voice breaks at the end, as if he’s finally acknowledging something he had avoided all along.

A lump forms in your throat, and your hands tremble slightly. "Jayce..." you murmur, not knowing whether you want to believe him or if you’re afraid it’s too late for all this.

"I’m sorry," he says, his tone filled with remorse. "I’m sorry for not listening to you. For not realizing what we had until I almost lost it. I don’t know how to fix it, but I want to try. If you’ll let me... I want to try to make it right. I want you to be part of my life, not just a secondary option, not just something I pushed aside."

He gently takes your hands, almost as if he’s afraid you’ll break in his fingers. "I want to be better for you. And if that means changing, if it means prioritizing you, I’ll do it. Because I need you. Not just as part of my life, but as the center of it."

Jayce’s words envelop you like a warm embrace, but you’re still afraid. Afraid that this promise might be just another lie. However, a part of you wants to believe that all of this can be real.

"Do you really understand?" you ask, looking into his eyes with an intensity that reflects your doubts and hopes. "Because I don’t want to be a shadow anymore. I don’t want to be the sacrifice on your path to something that doesn’t include what we shared."

He nods, the determination in his gaze revealing that he’s not here just to talk but to prove it. "I promise you, I understand now. What we have is the only thing that truly matters."

Your breathing calms, though the uncertainty still lingers. "So what are you going to do? Are you going to stop fighting just for Piltover and start fighting for us?"

Jayce smiles, a vulnerable but sincere smile. "I’m going to fight for what really matters, for what I didn’t want to lose. For you."

A weight lifts from your shoulders, and for a moment, you feel that the pain of everything lost can be healed. Because, in the end, it’s not about power or control. It’s about what the heart chooses, about what people decide to cherish.

You step closer to him, gently touching his face, and at last, after so long, you allow yourself to be vulnerable. "I don’t want to lose you again," you whisper.

"And you won’t," he responds, drawing you even closer, as if there had never been space between you. "Never again."

Ekko

The cold wind of Zaun blew strongly as you entered the house, the echo of your footsteps resonating like a forewarning. You didn’t know what you were going to find, but something told you that Ekko was no longer the same. The house, once filled with laughter and camaraderie, now seemed empty, desolate.

Ekko was there, sitting in front of a table, his hands trembling slightly. When he saw you, his eyes widened, but there was no surprise, just a flicker of something else. Regret.

"Ekko..." you whispered, your voice breaking. In the distance, the image of the battle came to mind. That night when you almost lost him forever. It had been a brutal blow. The fear of never seeing him again consumed you.

"I saw everything, you know?" Ekko began to speak, his voice softer than usual, as if he were searching for the right words. "When I fell… when everything seemed to be ending… the only thing I saw… was you." A long sigh escaped his chest, as if those words had cost him as much as a contained scream. "I saw your face, your pain… and I realized, too late, that the only battle that truly mattered, the one I didn’t want to lose… was ours."

Silence filled the room, your eyes welling up with tears as you processed what he had just said. "Ekko, why...? Why couldn’t we make it work before?"

He looked at you deeply, as if each word was a struggle, as if he were slowly building up what he felt. "I told you that you weren’t enough... but it was me who wasn’t enough. I, who thought I could save everything, who thought I could be everything for everyone, but when I looked at my life… I saw nothing. I saw what I had lost the most. And it was me who pushed away the only thing that truly mattered."

He stood up with effort, his eyes filled with regret and pain, the way he looked at you was so intense it hurt. "I… I fought for Zaun, but the only real fight I should be fighting, the only one that matters, is for you." His words flowed out of his mouth, but it seemed he was seeking his own forgiveness. "I failed you. I failed you because I didn’t understand what it meant to have you by my side. You were always enough, and you always will be."

He approached slowly, his face now close to yours, and though his gaze was tired, there was something new in it: vulnerability. "Would you let me fight for you, even now, even though everything is broken?"

Your voice trembled as you looked into Ekko's eyes. "Why are you asking me now? Why when everything is already broken?"

"Because I saw you leave, I saw how my life dimmed without you. And I realized that despite everything, the only thing that keeps me standing is knowing that I can still fight for what I love the most. And that's you. You are my reason to keep going. My only reason." His eyes glistened, and for a moment, it seemed that time had stopped between the two of you.

The air was heavy with palpable pain, and your tears fell uncontrollably. No matter how much damage had been done, the love between you had never left, it had just been buried under layers of pride and distance.

"Ekko..." you whispered, your voice broken. "What if I'm no longer what you need?"

"You’ll always be. You always were. And you always will be, baby" he said, his voice cracking as he took your hands with a desperate strength. "I’m so sorry."

Finally, words were no longer enough, and in an impulse, you both leaned in, letting yourselves be carried by the need to heal what was broken. Ekko's tears mixed with yours, the pain transformed into something that needed to be healed, and within the shadows of the house, you both finally understood that although the path to reconciliation would be difficult, there was still a chance to fight for the love that hadn’t completely disappeared.

Silco

The warehouse's dim light wrapped around you like an ominous forewarning, the thick, heavy air clinging to your skin. You had fallen into the trap, and although you knew it, you couldn't stop fighting, trying to free yourself. You had been at the brink of death more times than you cared to count, but this time it was different. The face of the man who held you prisoner was not one you knew well, but you did know that he was under the orders of someone much more dangerous. Silco had never fully explained the world he moved in, but something about the surroundings told you there would be no escape. This wasn't just any kidnapping. This time you wouldn't be saved so easily.

The ropes binding your wrists tightened as your mind spun in search of a way out. Your breathing was uneven, and every attempt to calm yourself only multiplied the fear. The man in front of you, with harsh features and cold eyes, watched your every move with a cruel smile. The sense of threat was palpable, yet you tried to defy him, even though you knew it was a vain attempt.

"Silco?" You called, but your voice trembled, betrayed by panic.

"Do you think he'll come to save you?"

The man let out a mocking laugh, stepping closer, the blade of a knife catching the warehouse's dim light.

"Silco has too many problems to deal with you," he said with a calm that only made the situation more terrifying. "You should already know, in this world, there's no room for weakness. Especially not for a little whore like you; you whores are replaceable. And apparently, he's already replaced you, everyone knows it. But my boss thought it would be a courteous gesture to send him your head as a small gift."

Your thoughts blurred with the sound of the door bursting open, and a chill ran down your spine at the familiar echo of firm, controlled footsteps. It was him. There was no doubt.

The man didn't seem worried, his arrogance had blinded him. "What's the great Silco doing here? Jealous that I have your former little bitch now? Relax, I'll give her back to you once I'm done with her. You can keep a leg or both, but her organs are mine, I'm sure they'll fetch a good price in the market."

There was no response. Silco didn't say a word, but the tension in the air was so thick that the entire room seemed to hold its breath. His eyes, cold as ice, scanned the man before you and then fixed on you, without showing a hint of emotion. Without hesitation, his hand slid to the back of his belt. In the blink of an eye, the sound of the gunshot echoed through the room, and the man fell to the ground, his life fading so quickly he didn't even have time to comprehend it.

It all happened in a matter of seconds, but for you, the world seemed to stop the moment Silco's figure approached. The intensity in his gaze, that palpable energy that used to envelop you in his presence, was now just a reminder of everything you had lost. He freed you from the ropes without a word. The contact of his hand as he touched you sent a shiver down your spine, and though his gesture was practical, you couldn't help but wonder if, in some corner of his being, there was still something of the person he had been before. Something that had loved you.

"You'll be fine," he murmured, his tone cold and distant as always. But this time, it wasn't the tone of the protector, the leader who had cared for you. It was the voice of someone who had forgotten what it meant to feel.

You tried to pull away from his touch, the same touch you had once desired with all your being. You couldn't bear it any longer. You couldn't bear him, his indifference.

"Why do you keep doing this? Why do you keep saving me? If you hate me so much, why save me?" Your voice was a broken whisper, but the pain in it was clear.

Silco remained silent for a moment, his eyes fixed on you with an intensity that burned. You could see the internal struggle in his gaze, that shadow of doubt that had arisen between him and you. Finally, he took a step towards you, his face implacable, but his hands trembling as he approached.

"You didn't understand anything," he murmured, his tone low, more vulnerable than you had ever heard. "What I told you... it was all a lie. I didn't want to lose you, that's why I pushed you away. I didn't want you close to this world, to this hell... but I couldn't. I couldn't let you go. I thought if I pushed you away, you wouldn't suffer, but..." His voice broke briefly, and silence filled the space between you both.

You looked at his face, puzzled by the contradiction in him. Everything he had said before, everything he had done, seemed to crumble now before your eyes.

"You don't understand, do you?" You whispered, still fighting the lump in your throat. "What did you think? That I didn't know what I was getting into when I decided to stay with you? That I didn't know death would always be at my back? That I would always have to live on the edge because you insisted on being the damn king of a world like this?"

Silco didn't respond immediately, his face softened slightly, and a shadow of regret crossed his gaze.

"I know," he said in a hoarse voice, "I know everything I said was cruel. But what I didn't tell you... is that, even if the whole world collapses, the only thing that matters to me... the only thing I've truly loved... is you."

The impact of his words hit you, and for a second, time stopped. The pain, the rage, the uncertainty, all of it seemed to dissolve into the air. But above all, there was something else, something you never expected to hear from him.

"I chose you," you whispered as you slowly approached him. "Despite everything, I chose you. I chose you, and even knowing what it would mean, I would do it again. Because that's what love really is. Choosing the person despite everything, even knowing death is just around the corner."

A flicker of emotion crossed his eyes, something you rarely saw in him, and for a moment, all the hatred, all the anger that had existed between you disappeared, leaving you alone, vulnerable, but finally honest.

"Then, come back, please," he pleaded, his voice trembling, his hand seeking yours. "I can't bear a world without you. I can't lose you. I'll keep protecting you, no matter how many times I have to dirty my hands with blood."

You approached, touching his forehead with the softness of a caress that, in that moment, was the only thing that could heal the wounds you both carried.

"I'm here, my love," you whispered to him, as he closed his eyes, letting the pain and hope dissolve between his arms. "I'll never leave you again. No matter what happens. It will always be you and me against the world. Always and forever."

And so, in that moment, the broken words and wounds of the past were left behind. In their place, there was only the certainty that, in the end, the love they shared couldn't be destroyed, even if the whole world was in ruins.

Mel

It's close to three in the morning when you hear a knock on the door. You're half asleep, your head heavy, but something in the air alerts you. With every step you take towards the entrance, you feel your heart racing, as if you know something is about to change, something you can't stop. You open the door, and there she is.

Mel is not the same as before. She isn't wearing the luxuries that always accompany her, the perfectly applied makeup, or the golden jewelry that always shone on her skin. She's a mess, her gaze lost, her face haggard. The strong woman who always seemed in control is now broken, empty. And when she looks at you, her eyes are not the same. They are filled with pain, with a suffering she hasn't been able to hide.

Before you can say a word, Mel throws herself at you. She takes you by surprise, but you quickly wrap your arms around her. Her body is trembling, as if her entire being is collapsing. You feel her tears soaking your shirt, and in the silence of the early morning, she begins to speak through sobs.

"I faced her..." her voice is broken, and every word costs her more than it seems. "My mother... she told me... she told me I would never be enough. That I'm not. You were right." She pauses for a moment, unable to continue, as if the weight of those words is too heavy for her soul to carry.

You hold her tighter, even though the words coming out of her mouth are like daggers in your chest. "Mel, please... don't say that," you murmur, though the anguish in your own voice is as present as hers. "You're not what she says. You're not."

"I'm her puppet," she responds bitterly. "She manipulated me... manipulated me to make all this happen. To put Piltover in her hands. I started a war, and now... I can't stop it. I'm to blame for all of this." Her crying intensifies, and you can feel her pain as if she's tearing herself apart inside. "She called me weak... called me a disgrace to the Medarda clan..."

Those words leave you cold. You feel the air catch in your throat. But you can't let her fall. You can't let her sink further into that darkness. You pull her away slightly, holding her face in your hands, forcing her to look into your eyes.

"No, Mel," you say firmly, even though your heart is shattered. "You're not weak. You're not a disgrace. You are... you're Mel Medarda, an incredible woman, not Ambessa's daughter. And that's what you'll always be to me."

She shakes her head, as if your words are merely an illusion. "You don't see it... you don't understand," she says, her voice broken by the sobs. "I am everything she wants me to be. Everything she told me to be. And now I don't know who I am... I don't know if I'm what you need."

You move closer to her, almost brushing her lips, and you can feel her desperation. "What you need isn't to be what your mother wants, Mel. What you need... what you need is to be yourself. You are enough. You are more than enough. I want you, with everything you are. It doesn't matter what she thinks. I love you just the way you are."

Mel closes her eyes tightly, as if she wants to block out the pain of your words, but even she knows that something in you is true. You feel that, though she doesn't want to admit it, your love for her is a refuge, a sanctuary from the torment she's lived her entire life.

"I promise I won't leave you alone in this," you continue, holding her face in your hands. "We'll figure it out together, Mel. We will. You're not going to lose me. I'm not going to lose you."

Mel finally looks up and meets your gaze, her eyes filled with tears, but there's something different in her expression. It's not the emptiness she gave you before, it's a spark, something of hope that begins to ignite deep within her.

"I don't want to keep fighting alone," she says softly, almost as if it's a lost whisper. "I'm so afraid... so afraid of all this. Of what I've caused. But... I don't want to lose what we have. I don't want to lose you."

"You won't," you reply with a sigh, holding her tightly, as if you could embrace all her fears. "I won't leave you alone. I promise. We'll figure it out. Together."

Time seems to stop at that moment. The world outside keeps turning, but you and Mel, in this instant, have only each other. And although the future is uncertain, you know that as long as you have each other, nothing can tear you apart.

Sevika

The sound of heavy footsteps is the first thing you hear. It’s late, the city is shrouded in darkness, but something in the air tells you this time it’s not a dream, not a nightmare. The knocking on the door startles you, and when you open it, you see her.

Sevika is standing in front of you, slightly swaying, her breathing uneven. The scent of alcohol is strong, mixed with the sensation of sweat and exhaustion emanating from her body. Her eyes, usually so firm, are now dull, almost lost, as if she’s searching for something she doesn’t know how to find.

“Sevika… what are you doing here?” you ask, your heart pounding in your chest, confused and worried to see her like this.

She doesn’t respond immediately, just stands there, watching you, as if she wants to say something, but the words seem stuck in her throat. After a long silence, she finally speaks, her voice deep and broken.

“I went to the brothels…” she murmurs, her head hanging low, as if it’s a confession, something weighing heavier than anything else. “To forget you. To stop thinking about you. I was with other people… so many other people. But everything I did reminded me of you. Of you and how… how I lost you.”

Your stomach churns at her words. The betrayal cuts you like a sharp knife. You step back from her, feeling the pain grow in your chest.

“No… why? Why did you do that?” The anger and hurt are clear in your voice, but there’s also a vulnerability you can’t hide. “Is that why you left me? To be with other people?”

Sevika lifts her head, her eyes reflecting a remorse so deep you can almost feel it as your own. “I didn’t do it to hurt you,” she says, her words faltering. “I did it because I thought it was what I should do… because I hurt you, and I didn’t know how to fix it. I didn’t want you to need me, I didn’t want to drag you with me into this damn abyss.”

Your heart beats so fast you feel it might burst out of your chest. Every word from Sevika hurts more, but there’s something in her gaze, in the way she’s opening up to you now, that makes you hesitate.

“But…” she continues, taking another step closer. “None of it worked. None of it. I remember you in every one of those faces. I remember you when I’m alone when I try to forget you. And the worst part, the most painful part, is that I can’t… I can’t stop wanting you.”

The words hang in the heavy air between you. The silence becomes unbearable. Sevika takes another step, closer to you until you can feel her ragged breath. She’s so close you can see every line on her face, the fragility you never thought she had.

“I… I never wanted you to see me this way,” she says, her voice breaking, as if every word costs her a world. “But please… listen to me carefully. There’s nothing I want more in this damn world than to be with you. I don’t want to keep living without you. I can’t. I love you. I can’t keep running from it. I can’t live with the weight of not telling you this sooner.”

The air freezes between you, and for a moment, the world seems to stop. The hate, the confusion, the betrayal… it all mixes in your chest, but deep down, you know what she just said is real.

“What?” you manage to whisper, your eyes filling with unshed tears. “Are you serious?”

Sevika closes her eyes, as if fighting against herself. “I love you,” she repeats, her voice softer now, as if she’s giving you everything she had, everything she had kept in her heart. “I love you, and I don’t want to keep living this lie. You… you’re the only thing that matters to me. You’re my only reason for being here. I don’t want to lose you. I don’t want you to keep suffering because of me. Please…”

Those “please” are like a plea, a silent scream that pierces through all the walls you had built around your heart. Sevika, the strong and fierce woman who always showed you her darkest side, is now on her knees before you, vulnerable, open, filled with a desperation you hadn’t seen before.

And in that instant, you feel everything crumble. The pain, the resentment, the confusion… it all disappears. Only love remains, raw and real, so strong it almost chokes you. Without thinking, you throw yourself into her arms, your arms wrapping around her with a desperate intensity, as if you fear that if you let her go, she’ll disappear forever.

“I love you too,” you whisper against her neck, the tears falling uncontrollably. “I love you so much it hurts.”

Sevika holds you with the same strength, her body trembling against yours. “Then let’s make it not hurt,” she murmurs, her words filled with a mix of relief and pain. “Let’s not let it separate us again, please.”

“That won’t happen again,” you reply, your lips seeking hers, not caring about anything else. “I won’t let it happen. What we have is forever.”

When your lips meet, the kiss is fierce, filled with the passion of everything that has built up, of everything that was left unsaid. It’s a kiss filled with desperation, love, and unspoken promises. It’s the beginning of a new chapter, one where the darkness won’t separate you, where love will keep you together, always.

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kirammanswifey · 3 days ago

Note

helloo!! can you please write about ‘arcane characters when you get in an argument’? i absolutely love ur writing btw!! 🫶🏻

arguments with arcane characters x fem reader

characters: viktor, jinx, vi, caitlyn, jayce, ekko, silco, mel and sevika.

writer's note: i love when you guys request this kind of interesting dynamics, it's so fun to write about it! also my favorite this time was sevika's, I meannn it was kinda hot and spicy. requests are open ;)

Viktor

The sound of the keys under his hands seems to fill the air, but what resonates most is the silence between the two of you. The room is steeped in an unsettling calm, while he keeps working as if nothing else exists. It’s been days since he last rested, and you know it. His skin is paler than usual, his eyes glassy, as if all the world's exhaustion is about to devour him. The scent of machine oil and metal permeates the room, but what hurts you most is the fragility of his being, the one he insists on ignoring.

Slowly, frustration begins to simmer within you. You love him more than anything in the world, but watching him so neglected, so absorbed in his work that he doesn’t even stop to eat, burns you.

You approach him, and suddenly, you can't take it anymore. Your tone isn't raised, but the fury is felt in every word. "Viktor, stop," you murmur, almost pleading. "You’re killing yourself. You haven’t eaten in days, not even slept. Do you know what you're doing? You're letting yourself go. Your body is crying out for help, and you're ignoring it."

He doesn’t look at you, doesn’t react. He keeps working as if your words don't reach him. Frustrated, you step closer. "You can't keep going like this, Viktor! What are you expecting? For someone to come and save you from yourself? This isn't just about your work, it’s about you!"

Finally, he looks up, but his eyes don’t seem to truly see you. Only a shadow of exhaustion. "I do it for them... for the people. The work... my research, it’s all that matters now."

"And you? Don’t you matter?" The anger mixes with something much deeper. Something that has to do with fear. "Your lack of self-love is so evident, Viktor, even I can see it. You're losing yourself in this obsession."

The words come out harsher than you intended. But seeing the flash of pain in his eyes, you realize what you've just said. A lump forms in your throat.

You fall silent, feeling the air grow thick. Guilt quickly invades you, and before you can think, you kneel in front of him. "Forgive me," you whisper, the anger already dissipated, replaced by sincere pain. "I didn't mean to be so harsh. It’s just... I don't want to see you like this, so lost. I don’t want you to hurt yourself because you are what I love most, Viktor."

Your hands tremble as you take his face in yours. "Please, take care of yourself. I don’t want to lose you. I don’t want to see you like this anymore, fighting alone against everything. Because, to me, you are everything."

Viktor says nothing at first. He just watches you, the conflict in his gaze. Then, as if releasing a sigh he had been holding for too long, he responds softly, "I’ll try... I promise I’ll try."

You look at him with a mix of relief and sadness. Finally, you stand up and take his hand firmly. "Now come with me. I’m going to make your favorite dinner. You need it."

The change in his expression is almost imperceptible, but it’s there. Something in his face softens, and for the first time in a long while, he gives you a faint smile. "You know, that sounds wonderful," he says with a tone that mixes surprise and gratitude.

As you prepare dinner, the atmosphere changes. The tension slowly dissolves, but there’s something else in the air, a silent understanding between you two. After dinner, you look at him with a mischievous smile.

"Viktor," you say, your voice full of complicity. "How many days have you gone without bathing? Because, honestly, I think it’s time you do."

He visibly shifts in discomfort, his face taking on a pink hue. "Honestly... I don’t know," he replies, as if trying to evade the question, looking down. "The truth is, I haven’t had time to think about those things."

Your laugh is soft but teasing. "I think you’ve forgotten a bit about yourself. So, what do you think if after dinner, we take a bath together?"

Viktor blushes even more, but before he can say anything, he has already conceded, and with an exaggerated formality only he can pull off, he responds, "Well... that... that would be very pleasant. If you don’t mind, of course."

The tension from before has transformed into something softer, lighter. You, amused by his so formal response, take his hand and lead him to the bathroom, feeling that, in that moment, all that really matters is that he’s finally willing to take care of himself.

Jinx

The sound of the spark igniting the fuse fills the room. Jinx has a playful smile on her face, but something isn't right. The bomb is making strange noises, as if it's about to fail. The sparkle in her eyes fades for a second, but it's accompanied by a nervous chuckle.

"What's wrong, Jinx?" you ask, raising an eyebrow. The moment feels out of place, and for a moment, you sense that something is very wrong, very out of control. "That... doesn't sound right."

But she just stands there, watching the bomb intently. She doesn't move. The air grows heavy, and suddenly, the bomb makes a terrifying click.

Your eyes widen as you see the timer on the bomb speeding up. A chill grips you, and in an instant, you act on instinct. You leap toward the table, your breath quickening, and deactivate the bomb just before it fully triggers. The explosion is seconds away from ringing in your ears, but you manage to stop it.

A sigh of relief escapes your lips, and you quickly turn to face Jinx. She’s still there, motionless, her eyes fixed on the deactivated bomb, as if hypnotized. She doesn't look scared or relieved, just... empty.

"Why didn't you do anything?" you confront her, your voice trembling with a mix of anger and disbelief. "Why did you just stand there? You could have died, Jinx! We could have both died!"

Jinx stares at the floor, her demeanor shifting in a second. The mockery dissolves, the mask falls, and in its place appears the scared girl she so often hides. "I... just wanted to see what would happen." Her response is soft, trembling, as if she doesn't know how to process what just happened.

Those few seconds of silence feel eternal. The air around you grows heavy, as if the whole world is waiting for something else to explode. And it does. You can't take it anymore. Fury takes over, and you lash out at her.

"What did you want to see, Jinx?" Your voice is harsh, filled with frustration. "Did you want to see us both die because of your stupid curiosity? Is that what you wanted?"

Jinx shrinks, her expression transforming into something so fragile it burns your heart. Her face is filled with regret, but her eyes can't meet yours. Tears begin to well up in her eyes, but she keeps staring at the floor, feeling small and scolded.

"I didn't mean to... I swear..." she murmurs, almost in a whisper, her words choked by the pain of having gone too far.

Your rage starts to dissipate, replaced by something deeper. An irrational fear, the anguish of watching Jinx destroy herself. You walk toward her, kneel to her level, and gently take her chin, lifting it so she looks at you.

What you see stops you cold. Jinx's nails are deeply embedded in her palms, red marks that have hurt her, as if she wants to punish herself for something. You stare at her intently, the pain reflected in her eyes and her gesture.

Quickly, you take her hands, without saying a word, and kiss them softly, your lips touching the small wounds on her skin. The blood from her hands stains your lips, but you don't care. "You know I hate seeing you destroy yourself," you murmur, your voice broken by the fear you still feel. "Please, Sweets, don't do this to yourself. Don't do this to us."

You stay still, waiting for her reaction. Finally, the door that had closed in her heart opens, and Jinx lets out a deep sob. Tears fall down her face, like an unexpected rain, and her body trembles.

"I'm sorry... I'm so sorry..." Jinx sobs, clutching you tightly. There are no more laughs, no more jokes. Just pure pain. And you hold her with equal intensity, rocking her in your arms, trying to soothe her, to erase the suffering she always carries inside.

"Pain isn't the solution," you whisper, stroking her braided hair, trying to convey all the love you feel for her. "I'll always be here for you, Sweets. You don't have to carry all this alone."

She remains silent for a moment, her sobs calming, but her embrace is still desperate. Finally, after a few seconds, her eyes lift, and with a small smile, she says:

"So... want to make bombs, but in a fun way? With less blood this time!"

The laughter that follows fills the room, and even though you know the battle isn't won, this small step in her recovery gives you renewed hope. Taking her hand, you lead her back to the table with the tools, ready for another night filled with madness... but this time, with a little more care.

The air in the Undercity feels heavy tonight, a cold that seems to seep into your bones. The sound of metal echoing through the structures, the distant murmurs of shouts and laughter, mix with the echo of your footsteps on the iron bridge that crosses the dark, grimy avenue. You walk in silence, but the tension in the air is palpable.

Suddenly, a drunk, staggering with a vacant stare, approaches you. The stench of alcohol wafts from his breath, and his eyes settle on you in a not-so-friendly way. His rough, hollow laughter resonates in the air, as if nothing he was about to do mattered.

Before you can react, his hands touch your backside without warning, sending a wave of revulsion through you and a shiver down your spine.

A choked scream escapes you, but before you can push him away, you feel Vi’s furious gaze, like a storm about to break loose. The anger on her face is palpable, and not a second later, the drunk is on the ground, receiving blows that thunder like hammers. His face is soon covered in blood, and the sound of fists pounding against his body leaves a disturbing feeling in the air.

Vi doesn’t stop; each punch is more brutal than the last. People in the distance quickly disperse, leaving only the echo of the hits. Your heart races, worry consumes you as you watch Vi unleash her uncontrollable fury.

"Vi, stop!" You lunge toward her, but in the process, one of her fury-fueled punches lands directly on your lip. The immediate pain stuns you, and when you touch your face, your hand is filled with blood. The split lip burns. Vi stops abruptly, looking at her bloodstained knuckles—her own, the drunk’s, and now yours.

She stands frozen, her face, once filled with rage, now shows a look of horror. “Oh, God…” she murmurs, seeing what she has done.

You tremble, not just from the pain in your lip but from the brutality of her actions. You’re not used to violence, not on this magnitude. Fear knots in your chest, and you let out a shaky sigh as you watch Vi, her face now wrecked with guilt.

"I didn’t mean to!" Her voice is broken, as if the guilt is overwhelming her.

“Let’s go home,” you respond coldly, more out of fear than anger, "and when we get there, we’ll talk."

The walk home is silent, the tension hanging between you like a taut string about to snap. When you arrive, you enter the kitchen and quickly tend to your lip, while Vi watches silently, unable to articulate a word.

Once you finish, you turn to her. The air is thick with the weight of what’s unsaid. “Vi…” you begin, your voice soft but firm. “You need to learn to control your anger. This time, you just didn’t hurt someone else. This time, it was me too. Me, the person you love the most. Do you realize that? Do you realize how I felt when your blows landed on me?”

Her eyes fill with tears, and her throat tightens as if she wants to say something, but the words are stuck in her chest. “I’m so sorry… I’m so, so sorry,” she whispers, her voice breaking.

You continue, your words coming out with more pain than you expected. “Sometimes… I’m afraid of you, Vi. Not because of what you might do to others, but because of what you might do to me. I don’t want to live in fear of your rage hurting me. It hurts so much. It hurt so much.”

Vi collapses in front of you, breaking down. Her tears fall one after another, and she throws herself into your arms, holding you in a desperate embrace. “I don’t know why I’m like this… I don’t know how… how to control it. I always have this rage inside, and sometimes I don’t know how to stop it. When it explodes, everything goes to hell, I know…” Her voice cracks as she clings to you. "I don’t want to hurt you, I don’t want to hurt you."

The softness in her tone hits you harder than any punch, and in that moment, you know she understands. "Vi, I… I don’t want you to hurt anymore," you murmur, caressing her back. "I don’t want that rage to control you."

She pulls back slightly, looking into your eyes, her face soaked in tears. “I’m so sorry. I swear it wasn’t my intention… but sometimes…” her words trail off in a sigh.

A small, sad smile forms on your face. “Have you thought about boxing? Maybe it’ll help you release all that. And I’ll go with you! But promise me you won’t use me as a punching bag, okay?" you joke with a smile, trying to lighten the moment.

Vi finally laughs, a laugh that feels like relief. “I promise. Just, please, don’t leave me, okay?”

You approach her, tenderly kissing her, careful to avoid the wound on your lip, and you feel the softness of her lips, the calm that finally settles between you. “I would never leave you, babe,” you whisper as you both embrace, knowing that, even though everything is complicated and painful, there is something between you that always keeps you together.

Caitlyn

The door bursts open, and Caitlyn enters the room with a face marked by a fury that seems to burn inside her. Your eyes lift from where you're sitting, a little surprised by her abrupt entrance, but you quickly see what has been happening.

"I can't believe what I had to hear today," Caitlyn throws out, her voice cold and cutting as she drops her jacket on a chair. "All because of your... damn ideas of justice. Do you have any idea what that means in this place?"

You stand up slowly, the tone of her voice making the air grow denser, heavier. "What happened, Cait?" you ask, though part of you already knows it has something to do with her ideals.

"It's not just what happened, it's what's happening. All the damn time," she responds, walking toward you with contained rage. "You go on and on about doing what's right, without understanding that ‘right’ isn’t always what people in high places think. You think you can change something, but all you're doing is making it worse."

Your heart races, and a spark of frustration rises in your chest. "Make it worse?" you repeat, feeling indignation begin to spill out of you. "Is that what you think? That my actions aren't worth it? You're so blinded by your perfect view of the world that you can't see what's really going on in the streets! Evil isn't just in the ‘high society,’ Caitlyn. It's everywhere."

Caitlyn looks at you with an intensity that almost seems defiant, but also wounded. "I'm not blind, the problem is that I can't understand why you keep going against the whole system. Every time you do, you just feed more chaos. You have to think about the consequences, about the people who can't afford those ideals you're defending like you're some fairy-tale hero. Not everyone can afford that luxury."

"A luxury?" Your voice rises slightly, now stronger. "What you call 'luxury' should be a right. Do you really not understand that people are suffering? That your 'system' is letting all of this crumble just to maintain power? I can't just stand by because you think it's fine because it looks neat from your tower."

Caitlyn steps back, as if your words hit some deep place inside her. "Not everything is as simple as ‘good’ and ‘evil.’ Sometimes things aren’t black or white. Sometimes you have to make concessions to move forward. What you’re doing is just putting yourself in the center, without understanding that there’s more at stake."

The words hang in the air between you two, and the intensity of the argument seems to rise with every exchange. Caitlyn is so convinced of her point of view that you can't help but feel frustrated by the barrier between you.

"What I understand, Caitlyn," you finally say, with a tense calm, "is that sometimes you do more harm by trying to follow the rules than by breaking them. And I know your intentions are good, but I can't stay silent watching you justify the unjustifiable."

Caitlyn closes her eyes for a moment, as if taking a breath to calm herself. When she opens them again, something has changed. It’s not that her anger has disappeared, but she seems more exhausted, as if all this is wearing her down. "I’m not asking you to agree with me. I'm just asking you to understand that sometimes, even if it hurts, decisions aren’t as easy as you see them."

There's a long silence between you, the air thick with discomfort and tension. You both know you're not going to come to an agreement this time, but you also know that won't change what lies between you.

Finally, Caitlyn sighs and sits on the edge of the table, letting the exhaustion take over her. "Sometimes I feel like I can't do anything right, no matter what I try," she murmurs, more to herself than to you. "And you... you make me see everything that's wrong with me."

You move a little closer, calmer but still hurt. "Cait, that's not what I want. What I want is for you to realize you don’t have to carry all of this on your own. You don’t have to keep walking down this path if it doesn't make you happy. I’m here for you, even when we don’t agree."

Caitlyn looks at you, her eyes reflecting some vulnerability, something she doesn't usually show. "I know. I just… I’m scared that I could lose everything I’ve built because... because I don't know when to stop."

You sit next to her, placing a hand on her shoulder. "You’re not going to lose it, Cait. No matter how much we fight, what matters is that we’re in this together. But you also have to learn to take care of yourself, not just the world."

Caitlyn nods slowly, and for the first time in a long while, a small smile appears on her face, though it’s sad. "I guess sometimes I forget that."

The tension begins to dissipate, although the brush of differences is still there. Deep down, you both know that these kinds of discussions won’t end anytime soon, but you also know that you're both moving forward for something bigger than the disagreement.

Jayce

There was something heavy in the air that night. An uncomfortable silence that hadn't been able to break for the past few days. Despite being in the same house, in the same room, you felt farther away from Jayce than ever. It wasn't just the lack of physical contact, it wasn't just the absence of the small gestures that usually made everything work between you. It was something deeper, something that had been growing inside you without him realizing it.

Finally, you couldn’t hold it any longer. You sat on the bed, staring into the emptiness in front of you, and when he walked in, that feeling of discouragement completely overwhelmed you. Without looking at him, you started.

“Jayce, I don’t know what to think anymore,” you said, your voice quiet but firm. “It’s been days since… since we’ve had anything. And I’m not just talking about sex, I’m talking about everything. I don’t even feel like you desire me anymore.”

Jayce, who had been in his own world as usual, looked up at you, confused by your words. “What are you saying, honey?” Surprise was evident in his voice, but it wasn’t enough to calm the torrent that had been unleashed inside you.

“You don’t get it, do you?” You stood up from the bed, walking towards him, words pouring out like a torrent. “Every day, I feel like I’m just here, fitting into your perfect life. Everything we do, everything we plan, it feels like you’re doing it because you have to. What about what I want, Jayce? What about us?”

Jayce took a step towards you, opening his arms as if he wanted to get closer, but something in your gaze made him stop. “No… I don’t understand. What do you mean by fitting into my perfect life?”

Your breathing quickened. “What I mean is that sometimes, I feel like I’m just an accessory, another piece in the puzzle you’ve been putting together. Like what matters most to you is making everything look right, fitting, but not us. I don’t feel desired, Jayce. I feel empty, like I don’t matter, like I’m just here because I fit into your life, not because you actually want to be with me.”

The pain in your voice was palpable, and although Jayce tried to step closer, you moved away from him. “I’m so tired of feeling like we’re nothing more than two people sharing a space. There’s no passion, no connection… Just the idea of what’s expected of us.”

Jayce looked completely lost, like he never imagined you felt this way. “I can’t believe you’re saying this. You know how important you are to me. But I… I’ve been so focused on work, on everything we need to achieve, that…”

“That what?” you interrupted, unable to keep bearing what felt like a pile of excuses. “That you’re too busy to see what’s right in front of you? I have my own problems too, Jayce. Not everything revolves around your projects, your perfect image. I’m a person too, and my feelings matter too.”

The words hung in the air, between rage and pain. Jayce didn’t say anything, and that only increased the feeling of abandonment you were experiencing. Frustration and sadness took over you more and more. Finally, the silence was broken, but not in the way you expected.

“Honey…” Jayce started, his voice softer now, but still full of confusion. “I didn’t want to make you feel this way. I didn’t realize I was leaving you out. I didn’t want you to feel… unwanted.”

Your eyes filled with tears, the emotional pressure of being unheard for so long finally bursting. “I don’t want to be just another option in your life. I want to be loved, I want to feel desired, I want you to look at me like you’re afraid of losing me. And I don’t feel that from you. I feel like everything we do is a routine, just fulfilling what’s supposed to be.”

Jayce slowly approached, now understanding the gravity of your words. “I… I don’t know how I didn’t see all this. I’m sorry, honey. I really am. I don’t want to lose you. I’ve been so focused on everything else that… I’ve failed you.”

A heavy silence fell between you. You didn’t know what to think, just felt a knot in your stomach, but when Jayce took a step towards you, taking your hands, you couldn’t help but look him in the eyes, searching for some sign that he truly understood how you felt.

“Please don’t leave me,” he whispered, his tone full of sincerity. “I promise I’ll change, I won’t take you for granted. You’re the most important thing to me, and if I made you feel like you weren’t, it hurts me deeply.”

You looked at him intently, seeing in his eyes the truth of his regret. “I know… but I need you to act instead of just saying it.”

Jayce nodded, a glimpse of a smile appearing on his face as his hands caressed yours. “I will. From now on, you and I… we’re a priority.”

Your heart lightened hearing those words, and when he hugged you, you held him tightly, knowing that the road to healing that disconnection wouldn’t be easy, but at least, finally, there was a beginning. And that promise to rebuild what had been lost was all you needed to start healing.

Ekko

That afternoon, it felt like the tension between you and Ekko was thicker than ever. You had been working together on a project, and the small jokes and dismissive attitudes from Ekko, which you usually let slide, began to affect you more than you expected.

"Wow, did you really think that was a good idea?" Ekko said, his biting tone making the sarcasm leave a bitter taste in his mouth.

Your breath became heavier, and although you tried to ignore it, something inside you snapped. You looked at him, furious, and without thinking twice, dropped the tool you had in your hands. "You know what? I'm leaving."

Ekko looked at you, somewhat surprised by your reaction, but before you could walk away any further, he let out a light laugh, as if nothing was happening. "What's up, got your period or something?"

That was the breaking point.

You stopped in your tracks, feeling a lump form in your throat. You turned to him with eyes shining with frustration. "You know what, Ekko? It's because of you. Because sometimes you don't seem to think about what you say, and you don't care how I feel."

Ekko furrowed his brow, trying to understand what you were saying, but before he could speak, you continued venting.

"You make me feel like my problems don't matter, like everything I do isn't up to your standards. Always so... so carefree, like you never have to think about how your words affect me. Have you ever thought about that?" Rage and pain built up in your voice as you spoke, but the words kept pouring out like an avalanche.

And then, without warning, what you hadn’t been able to say before came flooding out. "You know what's the worst? That I feel insecure, Ekko. I feel like I'm not good enough for you, like I'm not smart enough, not attractive enough... Because you never show jealousy, you never show anything. Like you never care. And that makes me doubt myself."

Ekko went silent, looking at your face in surprise, an expression that showed he finally understood what you had just said. The mockery from his previous joke faded, and his face shifted from confusion to deep seriousness.

"I... I didn't know you felt that way," he said finally, his words soft and filled with guilt. "I never meant to make you feel that way. I'm sorry, really. I'm not good at showing what I feel, I've never been."

He slowly approached you, not trying to interrupt the flow of your emotions. "You know, I grew up in a world where showing emotions was seen as weakness. Life never gave me time to process them. Since I was a kid, I was always at war, always on the move, always worried about surviving. But I never wanted that to affect you."

Your eyes softened a little as you listened to his words, and for a moment, the weight of frustration lifted slightly. "I... I didn't want you to think I cared less. It's just that sometimes, I get so caught up in my own stuff that I forget that the people close to me also have feelings. And I don't want you to feel belittled, I don't want you to feel like you're not enough."

There was a tense silence between you both, but something in his tone softened the atmosphere. "I'm sorry, really. It was never my intention to hurt you. You're incredible just as you are, and you make me feel like I can be more, like I can improve."

For a moment, everything seemed to calm down, but Ekko, with a mischievous smile, added, "And if it helps, yeah, I do worry a little when others look at you. But I'm not so good at showing jealousy."

You couldn't help but smile a little, even though you still felt the open wounds. Ekko, seeing this, moved a bit closer and gave you a gentle hug, as if it were a small gesture of comfort you so needed.

"I really care about you. I don't want you to feel insecure. I don't care if you're smarter or not, because what really matters to me is that you're you."

And before you could respond, Ekko joked with his usual playful attitude. "Although, if I ever catch you with someone else, you'd better be ready, because I’m not going to sit still."

You laughed despite everything, feeling the tension slowly disappearing, as if everything you had kept inside had finally found a way out.

"I love you too," you replied, as you hugged him again, knowing that, although the path wouldn’t always be easy, at least you both understood each other a little more.

Silco

Silco's office was shrouded in shadows, barely illuminated by the dim glow of a lamp on his desk. The phone conversation he was having was filled with frustration. "No, that won't work. We need something more decisive, something more substantial," he growled before hanging up with a sharp click that echoed through the wood.

From your position at the door, you could hear every word, feeling the tension in the air. You couldn’t help but intervene. "Maybe you could try..." you began, suggesting a plan you had come up with after hearing his problem.

Silco looked up at you, his cold, calculating eyes locking onto yours. "Shut up. You don't know anything about this," he snapped with disdain, his words cutting through you like a knife.

The coldness in his voice felt like a blow to the chest. Without saying another word, you turned around and stormed out of the office, slamming the door with a force that resonated down the hallway. Frustration burned in your chest as you climbed the stairs to your room.

Surprised by your reaction, Silco followed. Reaching the closed door, he knocked forcefully. "Open the door immediately!" he shouted, his tone a mix of anger and confusion.

"I won't! Go away!" you replied from inside, your voice trembling with both rage and pain. A sound from inside made his heart race. Fearing the worst, he broke down the door without thinking twice.

Inside, he found you packing your things with trembling hands. "What the hell are you doing?" he demanded, his eyes fixed on you, trying to understand the magnitude of your decision.

"I'm done, Silco. Done with you not seeing me as someone capable of helping you, done with you constantly underestimating me," you declared, your voice trembling but resolute. "I’m a human being, just like you, and I can handle matters and plans. I’m not just a decoration in your world."

Silco scoffed, crossing his arms in impatience. "Yeah, yeah, whatever. Do you want me to buy you something? You look hysterical."

That was the breaking point. You turned to face him, your eyes fiery and filled with tears. "Silco, remember where you found me. I was a worker in that horrible brothel, sold by my parents at eleven. I thought that by freeing myself, I would have a voice, that finally someone would see me as an equal. But it’s not like that. You don’t even listen to me."

Silco looked at you, his eyes softening as the weight of your words sank in. He approached you cautiously, his fingers touching your cheek with an unusual tenderness. "It's not personal," he murmured, his voice heavy with regret. "I’ve always been like this, I prefer to work alone. I’ve been through so much to earn respect in the Undercity that sometimes I minimize the opinions of others. But I never meant for you to feel this way, not you."

The wall of pain you had built began to crack under the weight of his words. "I’ll change. From now on, I’ll listen to what you have to say. In fact, tell me that plan you were going to propose earlier."

A pause lingered, but then, with a sigh, he added: "But before that, there’s something more important."

His words echoed in the silence before Silco took you by the waist, pulling you toward him. He kissed you with a passion that overflowed with unspoken apologies, a fire that spoke of promises of change and a renewed understanding between you both.

Mel

The luxurious bedroom was bathed in soft lights that enhanced the golden and ivory tones of the walls. You turned in front of the mirror, admiring how the dress flowed around your body, highlighting your curves and cascading elegantly in a fabric waterfall. The excitement of the night reflected in your eyes, waiting for Mel's approval.

When you stepped out of the dressing room, the smile on your lips quickly faded as you noticed the disapproving expression on her face. Mel looked you up and down, her gaze critical and stern. "Take it off," she ordered in a cold, distant tone. "Put on the one I chose for you."

You frowned, surprised. "Why? What's wrong with this one?"

"It’s not that there's anything wrong with it," she replied, crossing her arms with an air of authority. "It’s just not what I want for you tonight. Change your makeup and hairstyle as well. Something more sophisticated would be better."

The heat rushed to your cheeks, a mix of embarrassment and anger. "Nothing I do is good enough for you, right?" you exclaimed, your eyes sparking with indignation. "It feels like you always have to correct me."

Mel raised an eyebrow, her voice firm and unapologetic. "You should be grateful. I'm helping you make the most of your appearance. I need us to be perfect tonight."

"You mean you need to be perfect," you corrected, unbuckling your heels and throwing them to the floor with a sharp sound. "Because I'm not going anywhere."

Without waiting for a response, you made your way to the terrace, needing fresh air to calm the whirlwind of emotions stirring inside you. The cool breeze caressed your face as you leaned on the railing, trying to hold back tears.

It wasn’t long before Mel appeared behind you, her elegant silhouette illuminated by the moonlight. "Why are you acting like this?" she asked, her voice softer now, but still tinged with confusion.

"Seriously, Mel?" you turned to face her, your voice shaking with frustration. "Nothing I do seems right to you. You always correct me—the way I walk, the way I talk, and now even the color of my lipstick. It’s extreme and stupid."

Mel looked at you with a mix of surprise and reflection, as if your words had struck her for the first time. "I hadn’t thought of it that way," she finally admitted, her voice quieter. "I guess... I’m really hard on myself, and I project it onto others."

You took a deep breath, your eyes still shining with contained emotion. "I don’t want you to be like that with me. I’m not an extension of your standards, Mel."

Silence stretched between you for a moment before Mel took a step forward, enveloping you in a firm, comforting hug. "I’m sorry," she whispered, her voice breaking slightly. "I didn’t mean to make you feel that way. You’re fine just as you are, and I apologize for projecting my insecurities onto you."

You leaned into her, feeling the tension slowly fade. "I understand," you replied softly. "I know you were raised to be perfect. But please, when you feel those things, communicate them in a different way. Don’t impose them."

Mel nodded, her gaze meeting yours with a mix of regret and affection. "I will," she promised. "Please, come with me to the party. Without you, I won’t have the strength to go."

You hesitated for a moment, looking at yourself with insecurity. Mel noticed and gently cupped your face in her hands. "That dress looks amazing on you," she said with a warm smile. "It highlights everything I love about you."

Her words and the kiss that followed dispelled any doubt, filling you with renewed confidence as you agreed to accompany her, knowing this time, you would go as yourself, not as a perfected version to satisfy Mel's standards.

Sevika

The apartment door opened slowly, revealing Sevika's figure in the dim light. She walked in with tired steps, the weight of the night reflecting on her shoulders. You, who had been waiting patiently for her return, stood up from the couch with relief, but as you approached to embrace her, something stopped you. A strange scent, sweet and foreign, emanated from her skin, a fragrance that didn’t belong to any perfume you knew her to wear.

Your heart raced as you took a slight step back, your eyes fixed on her. "Who were you with?" you asked, trying to keep your voice calm, although a mix of anxiety and distrust began to rise within you.

Sevika looked at you in surprise, not understanding the reason for your unease. "I was at the bar, drinking. My ex joined me, we talked a bit, had a good time." She said it with such casualness that every word pierced you like a poisoned dart.

Anger began to bubble up inside you. "Why are you talking about it so casually?" you spat, feeling your voice start to tremble.

She frowned, confused. "What do you mean?"

"You shouldn’t have gone out with your ex!" you exclaimed, frustration coloring your words. "You owe me respect."

Sevika crossed her arms, her gaze hardening. "I do what I want," she replied coldly. "If you don’t trust me, maybe you should leave."

Your eyes widened at her comment. The idea of walking out that door tempted you, but sadness and rage kept you rooted to the ground. "Is that what you want?" you whispered, your voice shaking. "For me to leave?"

Sevika seemed to realize the weight of her words. She took a step toward you, extending her hand as if trying to stop you. "Wait, I didn’t mean that," she murmured, her tone softer, almost pleading. "You know I’m impulsive."

"Of course, impulsive... and nostalgic too," you replied bitterly, your eyes burning with contained pain. "You miss your ex, don’t you? You want to get back together with her?"

She frowned, stepping closer until her hands rested on your shoulders. "What’s your problem?" she asked, her voice low but firm. "Why are you saying all these things?"

The emotions you had kept under control for so long finally exploded. "Because I’ve been cheated on before!" you confessed, tears beginning to well up in your eyes. "I know the patterns when I see them. I don’t want to feel stupid and used again."

The hardness in Sevika’s expression melted away, replaced by deep understanding. Her hands, once firm, slid down your arms in a gesture of comfort. "I’m not those people, you shouldn’t compare me to anyone," she said, her voice firm but full of empathy. "If I didn’t want to be with you, I would tell you. I don’t need to lie to anyone. I love you, only you."

Her sincerity pierced your insecurities, breaking down the wall of fear you had built. Still, doubts lingered. "Then why did you go out with her?" you asked, still needing an explanation.

"Because it was a coincidence," Sevika explained, her gaze sincere. "We ran into each other by chance, and I thought there was nothing wrong with sharing a couple of drinks. But now I see it bothers you, and I don’t want to do anything that makes you feel this way."

Her words resonated within you, slowly calming the internal storm. You nodded, allowing the warmth of her promise to envelop you. "I want to believe in you," you whispered.

Sevika stepped closer, her lips finding yours in a deep kiss, full of promises and silent regrets. When she pulled away, her soft voice broke the trance. "Are you better?" she asked, gently caressing your cheek.

"I'll be better when you take a shower and get that cheap perfume off," you joked, your tone still slightly irritated but with a hint of humor.

Sevika laughed, a low, guttural sound that echoed in the space between you. She pulled you by the waist, drawing you even closer. "Then I’m going to need your help," she whispered in your ear, her voice laden with seduction. "Tonight, I feel especially incapable."

Your smile widened, a spark of mischief lighting your eyes. "I guess I can help with that," you murmured, letting the intimacy of the moment take over, knowing that despite everything, you were in the place you wanted to be: by her side.

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