#arcane x y/n

[cceana]

Arcane Highschool!AU

characters - vi, caitlyn, jinx, sevika, ekko, jayce and viktor content - 7.1k words, cliche highschool tropes, gn!reader, just pure fluff also a little reverse comfort

A/N this was so fun to do, cant believe i finished this in 1 day ahahahahhaah. this is my longest work yet so hopefully you guys enjoy it <3

— Star Athlete!vi and Band!reader

You’ve spent most of your high school life flying under the radar as the band’s flute player—quiet, responsible, and perfectly content in your niche. Your days revolve around early-morning rehearsals, sheet music, and the steady rhythm of practice. It’s predictable, comfortable.

That is, until the school’s star athlete, Vi, always in whispers and cheers, bursts into your life like an unrelenting storm.

Shes everything you’re not—loud, brash, impulsive, and dangerously confident. The type who winks at the crowd after scoring the winning goal, whose swagger fills the halls, and who’s constantly making headlines for their fiery outbursts on and off the field. You’ve heard the stories: the scuffle at last week’s game, the heated argument with the coach, the rumors of detention slips piling up.

You’d barely exchanged more than a few words with her, but that changes when the school decides to host a collaborative pep rally—complete with a showstopping performance featuring both the sports teams and the band.

When the coach volunteers them to help promote school spirit by playing a surprise number with the band, you’re horrified. So is she.

“I don’t have time for this,” she scoff when she gets dragged to the band room. “Why don’t you all just play louder or something?”

Your teacher assigns you the unenviable task of teaching them how to play an instrument. You can practically hear your friends giggling behind your back as you pull them aside, thrusting a trumpet into their hands.

Vi groans, slouching in her chair like a bored kid in detention. “What’s the point of this? Everyone’s here to watch me win, not play this stupid thing.”

You bristle at their cocky tone. “Well, if you don’t want to embarrass yourself in front of the entire school, I suggest you try.”

VI then gives you a smirk, leaning in just a little too close. “Oh, you think I can’t do it? I’m good at everything.”

It turns out, she's not.

The first few lessons are a disaster. She blow into the trumpet like she's trying to blow out a candle from across the room, their fingers fumble over the valves, and she keep snapping, “This thing is broken!” every time it makes a screeching noise.

But underneath all the bravado and eye-rolls, you start to notice something. The way she glares at the trumpet when she messes up isn’t just frustration—it’s determination. she hates failing, and she hates it even more that they’re bad at this.

“I’m not giving up,” Vi declares after her third failed attempt to hit a note. “I’m not letting some dumb piece of metal beat me.”

The more you work together, the more cracks appear in their tough exterior. she's fiercely competitive, yes, but also surprisingly quick to laugh at themselves when the trumpet sputters out the wrong notes. Her cocky grin softens when you praise even her smallest improvement, and she starts showing up to practice earlier than you do.

One afternoon, as you’re packing up your sheet music, you catch them staring at the band photo on the wall. “You guys practice this much all the time?” Vi asked, her voice uncharacteristically quiet.

“Yeah,” you say, surprised. “It’s a lot of work, but it’s worth it.”

she nod slowly, her usual swagger replaced by something contemplative. “Never thought about it like that. I guess… it’s kind of like training, huh?”

That’s when you realize she's not as invincible as she seem. Behind the hot-headed confidence is someone who works just as hard as you do, who’s just as passionate about what they love—even if they show it in a completely different way.

And when the pep rally finally arrives, with the gym packed to the rafters, she surprise's everyone—not just with how she learned to play, but with how she step aside during the performance to let the band take the spotlight.

Afterward, as the crowd cheers, she give you a lopsided grin. “Not bad, huh? Guess I’m pretty good at this whole teamwork thing.”

You roll your eyes, but you can’t hide your smile.

The pep rally is over, and the gym is buzzing with energy as people file out, still cheering and talking about the unexpected performance. You’re gathering your things in the corner of the stage when you hear footsteps behind you.

“Hey,” she calls out, her voice softer than you’re used to.

You turn to find her standing there, holding her trumpet in one hand, the other rubbing awkwardly at the back of her neck. For once, her usual cocky smirk is nowhere to be seen, replaced by an expression that’s… almost nervous.

“Uh, so… you were pretty great out there,” she says, her eyes flickering between yours and the floor. “I mean, you’re always great, but, like, today—you really killed it.”

You blink, caught off guard by the compliment. “Thanks. You were pretty great too. You didn’t even mess up the solo.”

She laughs, a warm, genuine sound that makes your chest flutter. “Yeah, well, I had a good teacher. Guess I owe you for that.”

You shrug, trying to play it cool. “Maybe. But you did the work. I’m impressed, actually. Didn’t think you’d take it so seriously.”

She steps a little closer, her usual confidence creeping back into her voice. “Yeah? So, I impressed you?”

Your face heats up, and you roll your eyes to hide it. “Don’t let it go to your head.”

“Too late,” she teases, but her grin softens as her gaze lingers on you. For a moment, neither of you says anything. The noise of the gym fades into the background, and all you can hear is the faint hum of your own heartbeat.

She looks down at the trumpet in her hand, turning it over like she’s stalling. “You know… I used to think band stuff was just… background noise. Like, nobody really notices it. But being up there, seeing how much you guys put into it…”

Her voice trails off, and when she looks back at you, there’s something in her eyes that makes it hard to breathe. “It made me notice you more.”

Your breath catches. “Me?”

“Yeah.” She takes another step closer, so close now that you can feel the warmth radiating off her. “You’re not just some quiet band geek who hangs out in the background. You’re… amazing. And I’ve been an idiot for not seeing it sooner.”

You open your mouth to reply, but the words get stuck in your throat. She’s staring at you like you’re the only person in the world, and for the first time, you don’t feel small or invisible. You feel seen.

“I know I’ve been kind of… impossible,” she continues, her voice dropping lower. “But I don’t want to screw this up. So if I asked you to, I don’t know, grab milkshakes or something sometime… what would you say?”

You bite your lip, trying to suppress a smile. “I’d say… as long as you don’t try to play the trumpet during the date, I might say yes.”

Her laugh is loud and bright, and before you know it, she’s grinning down at you. “Deal.”

The gym lights flicker as the janitor starts cleaning up, and you realize you’ve been standing there for what feels like forever. But as she walks you out, her shoulder brushing against yours, you can’t help but think that maybe this impulsive, hot-headed star athlete isn’t so bad after all.

— Childhood Bestfriend!caitlyn

You and Caitlyn were inseparable once, two halves of the same whole. Summers were spent running through sun-drenched fields, plotting grand adventures, and swearing eternal friendship under the stars. But that was years ago, before her family moved away to chase bigger opportunities, and you were left behind with only memories of her bright laugh and unshakable confidence.

Life moved on, and so did you. By high school, she’d become little more than a bittersweet memory. Until now.

When she walks into your homeroom on the first day of senior year, it feels like the air’s been knocked out of you. She’s taller now, with an effortless grace that makes the room go quiet. Her uniform looks somehow sharper on her, her long, dark hair falling in perfect waves. There’s something in the way she carries herself—poised and self-assured, like she owns the world—and maybe she does.

Her family name has become a symbol of power and wealth. She’s been in the headlines, her achievements as a youth advocate already earning her a reputation as a fierce voice for justice. And yet, when her gaze scans the room and lands on you, her face lights up with the same brilliant smile you remember from childhood.

“Hey,” she says as she slides into the empty seat beside you, her voice low and familiar. “Long time no see.”

You’re too stunned to do anything but nod.

You quickly learn that she’s not just here for nostalgia—she’s here with a purpose. Between rigorous AP classes, she’s working on a project to bring awareness to systemic issues in your town. Meetings, interviews, and late nights at the library seem to be her norm, and it doesn’t take long for her to rope you into helping.

At first, it feels surreal being around her again. The girl you once knew has grown into someone so driven, so ambitious, that it’s almost intimidating. She seems untouchable, like a shooting star too far away to reach.

But every now and then, the cracks in her polished armor show. When it’s just the two of you poring over notes at your kitchen table, she leans back with a sigh and pulls her hair into a ponytail, muttering about how she wishes she had more time to breathe. And when you laugh at her frustrations, she throws a crumpled piece of paper at you, her grin wide and mischievous.

“You haven’t changed a bit,” she says one evening, her eyes soft as they meet yours. “Still the only person who can make me laugh when I want to scream.”

It’s during one of these late-night sessions that the air between you shifts. You’re sitting on the floor of her family’s impossibly grand living room, surrounded by papers and laptops. She’s wearing a sweatshirt that’s too big for her, a far cry from the polished image she presents to the world, and you can’t help but think about how beautiful she looks like this—unguarded and real.

“You’ve been quiet tonight,” she says, tilting her head to look at you. “What’s on your mind?”

“Nothing,” you lie, your heart racing under her gaze.

She raises an eyebrow, leaning closer. “I’ve known you long enough to know when you’re lying.”

You hesitate, your pulse hammering in your ears. “It’s just… I can’t believe you’re here. That after all these years, we’re… us again.”

Her expression softens, and she shifts closer until your knees are almost touching. “I’ve missed you too, you know,” she says quietly. “It’s been so hard, being away from everything I used to care about. From you.”

Her words hang in the air, heavy and electric. You want to say something—anything—but the way she’s looking at you steals the breath from your lungs. Her dark eyes search yours, and for a moment, the world seems to still.

“Do you ever think about those nights we spent under the stars?” she asks, her voice barely above a whisper.

You nod, swallowing hard. “All the time.”

“I do too,” she admits, her hand reaching out to brush against yours. Her touch is warm, grounding, and yet it sends a jolt through you. “Back then, I always thought we’d have forever. And when I left, I realized how much I hated being wrong about that.”

You’re not sure who moves first, but suddenly the space between you disappears. Her hand lingers on yours, her thumb tracing gentle circles against your skin, and you’re acutely aware of how close her face is to yours.

“Tell me if this is okay,” she murmurs, her voice trembling just slightly.

You nod, barely able to speak. “It’s more than okay.”

And then her lips are on yours, soft and hesitant at first, like she’s afraid you’ll pull away. But you don’t. You lean into her, your hand sliding up to tangle in her hair, and the kiss deepens—sweet and full of years’ worth of unspoken feelings.

When you finally pull back, she rests her forehead against yours, a breathless smile on her lips. “I’ve waited so long to do that,” she says, her voice tinged with relief.

“Me too,” you whisper, your heart soaring.

As the night stretches on, you realize that the girl you thought you’d lost has come back into your life, not as the same person she once was, but as someone even more extraordinary. And for the first time in years, the future doesn’t feel so uncertain—it feels full of possibilities, with her by your side.

— New kid!jinx and Class president!reader

You’ve worked hard to get where you are. Every meeting attended, every speech prepared, every carefully crafted decision—it’s all been for the sake of keeping order in the chaos of your high school. As class president, your name carries weight. You’re the dependable one, the one who keeps everything running smoothly, the one who always has things under control.

Until Jinx shows up.

The whispers start on her first day. The new girl. The one who doesn’t seem to care about blending in. She strides into the building like she owns it, her uniform already disheveled, her blazer slung over her shoulder, and a wild grin on her face.

It doesn’t take long for her reputation to spread. She’s unpredictable, impulsive, and utterly magnetic. Within a week, she’s already broken half the school’s rules, talked her way out of three detentions, and somehow charmed half your classmates in the process.

And for some reason, she’s decided you’re her favorite target.

It happens during lunch. You’re sitting at your usual spot, surrounded by student council members, going over plans for the upcoming fundraiser when she walks up to your table.

“Class president,” she says, her voice dripping with mockery and something else you can’t quite place. “Mind if I join you?”

You glance up, already annoyed. “I’m busy.”

She smirks, pulling out a chair anyway. “That’s cute. You think I was asking.”

Your friends exchange uneasy glances, but she doesn’t seem to care. She leans back in the chair, her sharp pink eyes locked on you, as if she’s trying to unravel you with her gaze alone.

“You’ve got a real stick-up-your-ass vibe,” she says casually, plucking an apple from the tray in front of her. “I like that. It makes messing with you way more fun.”

You glare at her, trying to keep your composure. “Do you need something, or are you just here to waste my time?”

Her grin widens, and for a moment, you see a flicker of something wild and untamed in her expression. “Maybe I just like watching you squirm.”

She becomes a constant in your life after that. You find her waiting outside your classroom, lounging against your locker, or casually walking into student council meetings as if she belongs there.

“Do you ever stop?” you snap one afternoon, cornering her in the hallway after she’s disrupted yet another meeting.

“Stop what?” she asks innocently, tilting her head.

“Whatever game you’re playing.”

She steps closer, and for the first time, you notice just how intense her gaze is. “Who says it’s a game? Maybe I just like you.”

The words hang in the air, heavy and electric, and before you can respond, she turns on her heel and walks away, leaving you standing there, utterly baffled.

It’s not until much later that you start to see the cracks in her chaotic facade. One night, you find her sitting alone in the empty music room, the piano keys beneath her fingers. She’s not playing, just pressing random notes, her usual manic energy replaced by a quiet stillness.

“You shouldn’t be here,” you say, stepping into the room.

She doesn’t look up. “Neither should you.”

For a moment, neither of you speaks. Then she sighs, her shoulders slumping. “I bet you think I’m crazy.”

You hesitate, caught off guard by the vulnerability in her voice. “I think you’re reckless and impulsive and… exhausting. But no, I don’t think you’re crazy.”

She finally looks up at you, her eyes softer than you’ve ever seen them. “You’re too nice for your own good, you know that?”

“I’m not nice,” you counter. “I just… I think there’s more to you than the act you put on.”

Her lips twitch into a small, almost shy smile. “Careful, president. You keep saying things like that, and I might start to believe you.”

The more time you spend around her, the more you realize how deeply she feels everything. Her chaos isn’t just for show—it’s a shield, a way to keep people from getting too close. But with you, she starts to let her guard down.

One evening, she shows up outside your house, her hair messy and her eyes wild. “Come with me,” she says, grabbing your hand.

“Where are we going?” you ask, letting her drag you down the street.

“Anywhere,” she replies, her grip tight. “Everywhere. I don’t care.”

You end up at the park, sitting on a swingset as the stars blink overhead. She’s unusually quiet, her hands gripping the chains tightly as she stares at the ground.

“You ever feel like you’re spinning out of control?” she asks suddenly, her voice barely above a whisper.

You glance at her, surprised by the question. “Sometimes.”

She exhales shakily, her fingers brushing against yours. “You… you make it stop. Just for a little while.”

Your heart skips a beat, and you don’t know if it’s the raw honesty in her words or the way her fingers linger against yours, but you feel something shift between you.

It happens later that night, as you’re walking her home. She stops in front of her house, turning to face you with an unreadable expression.

“Why do you put up with me?” she asks suddenly, her voice soft.

You frown. “What do you mean?”

“I’m a mess,” she says, her gaze dropping to the ground. “I break things, I hurt people… I’m not like you. I’m not good.”

“You’re not perfect,” you admit, stepping closer. “But you’re not as bad as you think you are, either.”

She looks up at you, her eyes shining with something you can’t quite name. “You’re going to regret saying that.”

“Maybe,” you say with a small smile. “But I don’t think so.”

Before you can overthink it, you lean in, your lips brushing against hers. She freezes for a moment, like she’s caught off guard, but then she kisses you back, her hands clutching at your sleeves as if you’re the only solid thing in her world.

When you finally pull back, her face is flushed, and she’s breathing hard. “You’re insane,” she mutters, though there’s no heat in her words.

“Takes one to know one,” you reply, grinning.

She laughs, the sound light and genuine, and for the first time, you feel like you’ve truly seen her—every broken, beautiful piece of her.

—Troublemaker!sevika and Tutor!reader

You weren’t thrilled when your teacher assigned you as her tutor. You’d heard all the rumors: skipped classes, biting comebacks that left people reeling, and a permanent spot on the troublemaker watchlist.

Her reputation painted her as unteachable, untamable, and entirely uninterested in anything resembling authority. When your teacher insisted she “just needed guidance,” you couldn’t help but feel skeptical.

The first session confirmed it.

She slouched into the library ten minutes late, her bag dragging on the floor, and dropped into the chair across from you with a loud huff.

“Look,” she said before you could even greet her, “I don’t need some perfect little know-it-all telling me what to do.”

You blinked, caught off guard. “I’m just here to help.”

“Sure,” she scoffed, leaning back in her chair. “Let’s get this over with.”

Her tone was cutting, her expression bored, and yet… there was something about her. A quiet intensity lurking beneath the surface, like she was daring you to break through her tough exterior.

Each session felt like a test of patience. She was sharp, no question about it, but her attitude made every interaction a battle.

“You’re not even trying,” you said one afternoon after she tossed her pen aside for the third time.

Her eyes snapped to yours, hard and unyielding. “Don’t act like you know me,” she said coldly. “You think I don’t try? You think I don’t bust my ass every single day?”

You froze, startled by the edge in her voice.

She leaned forward, her gaze cutting through you like a blade. “I don’t need this. I don’t need you. I’m here because they told me to be.”

For a moment, you considered walking away. But then you saw it—just the faintest flicker of something vulnerable beneath her defiance.

“You’re right,” you said, keeping your voice calm. “I don’t know you. But I know you’re capable of more than this.”

Her jaw tightened, and she looked away, her fingers drumming on the table. “Whatever,” she muttered.

But she didn’t leave.

Slowly, things started to shift. She showed up on time—barely. She started taking notes—reluctantly. And every so often, she’d let her tough exterior slip, just enough for you to catch a glimpse of the real her.

One afternoon, after a particularly grueling session, you handed her a worksheet.

“You’re getting better,” you said, offering her a small smile.

She snorted. “Don’t get all sentimental on me.”

“I’m not. I’m just saying you’re improving.”

“Yeah, well, don’t hold your breath for a thank-you card,” she replied, but there was a hint of a smirk on her lips.

Her walls were still up, but they were starting to crack.

It happened on a rare quiet day in the library. She was hunched over her notebook, her brow furrowed as she worked through a particularly tricky problem.

“Got it,” she said suddenly, sitting up straight.

“Really?” you asked, leaning over to check her work.

She shoved the notebook toward you, her smirk firmly in place. “Told you I’m not dumb.”

“I never said you were dumb,” you replied, meeting her gaze. “You just make things harder than they need to be.”

She rolled her eyes. “Maybe I like a challenge.”

“Or maybe you’re just stubborn,” you teased.

Her smirk softened, just for a moment. “Takes one to know one, princess.”

Your heart skipped a beat at the way she said it, her voice low and almost… fond.

After weeks of late afternoons spent together, you found yourself walking her home one evening. The sun was setting, casting a warm orange glow over the quiet streets.

“You’re not as bad as I thought,” she said suddenly, breaking the silence.

You blinked, surprised. “Is that supposed to be a compliment?”

“Don’t push your luck,” she shot back, though her tone lacked its usual bite.

When you reached her house, she stopped at the gate, turning to face you. Her usual confidence wavered, just slightly.

“Why do you bother with me?” she asked, her voice quieter than usual.

“Because I see how hard you work,” you said honestly. “And because I think there’s more to you than what you let people see.”

She stared at you for a long moment, her expression unreadable. Then, without warning, she stepped closer, her hand brushing yours.

“You’re a real pain, you know that?” she murmured, her voice soft but firm.

Before you could respond, she leaned in, her lips capturing yours in a kiss that was as bold and unapologetic as she was.

When she pulled back, her cheeks were flushed, but her smirk was firmly in place.

“Don’t let it go to your head,” she said, turning toward her door.

You smiled, your heart racing. “Too late."

—Artist!ekko and Muse!reader

It was one of those golden autumn afternoons, the kind where the sunlight made everything look softer, warmer, like it belonged in a painting. You’d escaped to the park during your lunch break, clutching a well-worn book in one hand and a coffee in the other. It wasn’t the first time you’d come here for a little peace and quiet, but it felt like one of the rare times you’d actually get it.

You settled on a bench near the fountain, a cozy corner of the park where the only sounds were the gentle trickle of water and the rustling of leaves in the breeze.

The moment you opened your book, however, you felt it—a faint, almost electric sensation prickling at the edge of your awareness. Someone was watching you.

Glancing up, you spotted him.

He was sitting on the grass a few yards away, sketchpad balanced on his knees, pencil flying across the page. His hair fell messily across his forehead, and the sleeves of his shirt were rolled up to reveal forearms speckled with faint smears of paint. Despite the chaos of his appearance, his focus was absolute, his gaze darting between you and the paper as if you were some rare discovery he couldn’t afford to lose.

You furrowed your brow, unsure whether to feel flattered or alarmed. “Can I help you?” you called, your voice cutting through the quiet.

He blinked, as if snapping out of a trance, and stood quickly.

“Sorry,” he said, striding toward you. “I didn’t mean to freak you out.”

His voice was smooth, tinged with an earnestness that made it hard to stay annoyed.

“I’m an artist,” he explained, gesturing to his sketchpad. “I know this sounds weird, but you’ve got this… look. The way you’re sitting, the way the light hits you—it’s perfect.”

“Perfect?” you repeated, raising an eyebrow.

“For a piece I’m working on,” he clarified, a faint blush creeping up his neck. “Do you mind if I sketch you? Just for a little while.”

You hesitated, studying him. He didn’t look like a creep—just young, maybe a little unkempt, with an intensity in his eyes that was hard to ignore.

“I’m not really dressed for a portrait,” you said, gesturing to your casual sweater and jeans.

He smiled, and the way his face softened surprised you. “It’s not about the clothes. It’s the way you carry yourself.”

The compliment was unexpected, and it caught you off guard. “Alright,” you said slowly. “But just for a few minutes.”

“Great,” he said, dropping to the bench across from you with a grin that felt like the sun breaking through the clouds

It turned out he was a prodigy, a young artist with a growing reputation in the city. His work had been featured in galleries, and he’d even won a few prestigious awards. But for all his talent, he was surprisingly down-to-earth.

“I don’t really like the whole ‘genius’ label,” he admitted one afternoon after convincing you to pose for him again. “It just makes people think I’ve got everything figured out. But most of the time, I’m just trying to keep up with my own ideas.”

You quickly realized that his art wasn’t just a skill—it was his lifeline. He spoke about it the way others might talk about breathing. And for some reason, he’d decided that you were his muse.

“Why me?” you asked one day as he sketched you in his studio. The walls were covered with half-finished canvases, each one brimming with vivid colors and raw emotion.

He glanced up from his sketchbook, his eyes soft but focused. “You’ve got something about you,” he said simply. “A kind of… light. I can’t explain it, but when I see you, I want to create.”

His honesty was disarming. There was no pretense in his words, no calculated charm. He spoke as though his heart was an open book, and every word was written in your honor.

“Do you say that to all your muses?” you teased, trying to lighten the moment.

He chuckled, the sound low and warm. “I’ve never had one before you.”

As time went on, you got to know him beyond his talent. He was fiercely independent, refusing to rely on anyone for his success. His compassion, however, was what surprised you most. He spent his weekends teaching art classes at a local youth center, his eyes lighting up as he helped kids discover their own creativity.

“They’ve got so much potential,” he said once, his voice filled with quiet pride. “They just need someone to believe in them.”

It was clear that he poured himself into everything he did, whether it was a painting, a lesson, or simply spending time with you.

One evening, he invited you to his studio after hours. The space was dimly lit, the air thick with the scent of paint and turpentine.

“I want to show you something,” he said, guiding you to the center of the room where a large canvas stood covered by a cloth.

With a dramatic flourish, he pulled the cloth away, revealing a breathtaking painting. It was you—your pose, your expression, every detail captured with such tenderness that it felt like staring into a mirror of your soul.

“Is that… me?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

He nodded, his gaze steady. “It’s not just you,” he said softly. “It’s how I see you. Strong, radiant… inspiring.”

Your heart swelled at his words, and for a moment, you forgot how to breathe.

“It’s beautiful,” you said finally, your voice thick with emotion.

“So are you,” he replied, his lips curling into a small, genuine smile.

There was no grand confession, no dramatic moment where everything changed. Instead, your relationship grew in quiet, unspoken ways. The way he brought you coffee when you visited his studio. The way he asked for your opinion on his work, genuinely valuing your thoughts. The way his hand would brush against yours when he passed you a sketchbook, his touch lingering just a second too long.

One day, as you sat together in the park where you’d first met, he turned to you, his eyes filled with something you couldn’t quite name.

“You know,” he said, his voice low, “I’m not sure I’d be able to do this without you.”

“Do what?” you asked, tilting your head.

“Create,” he replied simply. “You make it… easier to believe in myself.”

You smiled, your heart fluttering at his honesty. “I think you’d do just fine on your own.”

“Maybe,” he said, his gaze never leaving yours. “But I don’t want to.”

—Bestfriend!jayce

The two of you had been inseparable for as long as you could remember. From elementary school to your final year of high school, your lives had been stitched together with countless shared moments—late-night study sessions, chaotic group projects, and lazy afternoons spent at the local diner. You were the grounded one, the planner, while he was the dreamer.

He was everything you admired in a person: ambitious, creative, and unrelentingly passionate about making the world a better place. Whether he was organizing a charity event for the school or advocating for a greener campus, he didn’t just talk about change—he embodied it.

“Alright, hear me out,” he said one afternoon as you sat in your favorite spot in the school library. His voice was alive with energy, his words spilling out faster than you could process them.

You glanced up from your notes, already bracing yourself. “This is going to be another one of your big ideas, isn’t it?”

“Of course,” he said with a grin. “It’s what I do best.”

He leaned forward, spreading out a sketchbook filled with colorful doodles and bold handwriting. Each page was a mix of blueprints, campaign slogans, and notes for an initiative he wanted to pitch to the student council.

“I’m telling you, if we can pull this off, it could really make a difference. We could partner with local businesses, raise money for community programs, and even involve the younger students—”

“You’re going a hundred miles an hour again,” you interrupted gently, a smile tugging at your lips.

“Not when I’m onto something good,” he replied without missing a beat.

That was him in a nutshell: a whirlwind of ideas and determination, always moving forward. It was both inspiring and exhausting to keep up with him, but somehow, you always did.

For all his big ideas and boundless enthusiasm, he had a softer side too—a side he reserved just for you.

One Friday night, he showed up outside your house, honking his car horn until you came outside in your pajamas.

“What are you doing?” you hissed, glancing around to make sure your neighbors weren’t watching.

“Get in,” he said with a grin, leaning out of the driver’s side window. “I need your opinion on something.”

“You’re insane,” you muttered, but you climbed into the passenger seat anyway.

He drove to a quiet hill on the outskirts of town, parking near an old tree you’d both claimed as “your spot” years ago. He pulled out a notebook from his bag and handed it to you.

“These are my ideas for the youth outreach program,” he said. “I need to know if I’m being too ambitious.���

You flipped through the pages, your heart warming as you saw the effort he’d poured into every word and sketch.

“This is incredible,” you said softly. “You’re not just ambitious—you’re inspiring. People are going to listen to you.”

He looked at you, his expression unreadable. “You really think so?”

“Always,” you said, your voice firm.

For a split second, you thought he might reach out to take your hand, but instead, he leaned back, staring up at the stars. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

After particularly grueling school days, he’d find you at your locker, holding out your favorite drink or snack without a word. When the stress of finals hit, he’d sit beside you in the library, quietly working through his own assignments while offering words of encouragement.

And then there were the moments when his usual confidence wavered.

“Do you think I’m crazy?” he asked one evening as you sat on the hood of his car, staring up at the stars.

The two of you had just spent hours planning his latest project, a school-wide fundraiser for a local shelter. Despite his ambitious plans, his voice was quieter now, almost hesitant.

“You? Crazy?” you teased, nudging him playfully. “Absolutely.”

He laughed softly, but the tension in his shoulders didn’t completely fade.

“Seriously, though,” he said, turning to you. “Sometimes I wonder if I’m aiming too high. Like, what if I can’t actually pull all this off? What if I fail?”

You reached out, placing a reassuring hand on his arm. “You won’t fail. You’re the most determined person I’ve ever met. And even if something doesn’t work out the way you planned, it doesn’t mean you failed. It just means you’re brave enough to try again.”

His gaze softened, and for a moment, the air between you felt heavier, charged with something unspoken.

“Thanks,” he said quietly. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

The moment lingered, and as he pulled back, his hands stayed on your shoulders. His gaze searched yours, and for the first time, you saw a vulnerability there that he usually kept hidden.

“I’ve been trying to figure out how to say this for a while now,” he began, his voice soft but steady.

Your breath caught. “What is it?”

“I don’t just care about you as a friend,” he admitted, his cheeks flushing slightly. “I mean, I do, but it’s more than that. You’ve always been my anchor, the one person who gets me, who believes in me even when I doubt myself.”

Your heart raced, the world narrowing down to just the two of you. “I think I’ve always felt the same way,” you said quietly.

Relief washed over his face, followed by a smile so genuine it made your chest ache.

“Then we’re in this together,” he said, reaching for your hand. “Like always.”

From that day on, your friendship transformed into something deeper, something stronger. His dreams grew bigger, but now, they weren’t just his—they were yours too. Together, you were unstoppable, a team bound by shared passion and a love that had been years in the making.

Whether it was planning for college or brainstorming ways to change the world, one thing was certain: with him by your side, anything felt possible.

—Enemies to lovers!viktor and reader

From the moment the new kid transferred to your school, it was as if the universe had dropped a puzzle piece into the wrong spot. He was a contradiction: introverted yet razor-sharp in class discussions, quiet but with an undercurrent of passion that seemed to burst through in unexpected moments. His snarky comebacks and aloof demeanor were practically tailor-made to clash with your confident, no-nonsense approach to everything.

You couldn’t help but notice how he kept his distance from everyone else, often retreating to the farthest corner of the library or lab. Despite his unassuming presence, he somehow managed to infuriate you with his brilliance. Teachers fawned over him, classmates whispered about him, and you? You glared daggers at him every time he raised his hand in class to counter one of your arguments.

The first real confrontation happened in science class. It was a group project, and your teacher, in a cruel twist of fate, paired you with him.

“Great,” you muttered under your breath.

He barely glanced at you as he set down his notebook, already flipping through its pages. “It’s not my favorite pairing either, but let’s just get this done.”

His tone was clipped, and his eyes barely met yours.

“Oh, so we’re starting with passive-aggressive remarks? Good to know where we stand,” you shot back, folding your arms.

He sighed, finally looking at you. “Look, I don’t care if you like me or not. I care about getting an A on this project. If you want to argue, fine, but at least do it while we’re running the experiment.”

His bluntness took you off guard, and for a moment, you were speechless. But you quickly recovered, rolling your eyes. “Fine. But don’t think for a second I’m letting you take over.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he muttered under his breath, already scribbling in his notebook.

Working together was like a storm brewing in slow motion. You were both stubborn and headstrong, constantly butting heads over the smallest details.

“Why are you doing it that way?” you snapped one afternoon as he adjusted the settings on the experiment’s apparatus.

“Because it’s the correct way,” he replied without looking up.

“You didn’t even let me explain my idea!”

“Your idea would’ve blown up the circuit.”

You narrowed your eyes. “You don’t know that.”

“Let me guess—you’re the kind of person who thinks trial and error is the only way to learn?”

He finally turned to face you, a faint smirk playing at his lips “And you’re the kind of person who thinks you’re always right,”

The tension crackled like static electricity, but neither of you backed down.

It wasn’t until a late-night study session in the empty library that things started to shift. The project deadline was looming, and you’d reluctantly agreed to meet outside of school to finish your work.

He was unusually quiet that night, his usual snark absent as he stared intently at the data on his laptop.

“Hey,” you said, breaking the silence. “You okay?”

He hesitated, his fingers pausing on the keyboard. “Just tired. And frustrated. I want this to be perfect.”

Something in his tone softened your usual defensiveness. “You know, it doesn’t have to be perfect. You’re allowed to mess up sometimes.”

He gave a faint, humorless laugh. “Not really. Not when people are counting on me.”

The vulnerability in his voice caught you off guard. For the first time, you saw past the walls he’d built around himself—the pressure he carried, the weight of expectations.

“I didn’t realize you were dealing with so much,” you said quietly.

He glanced at you, his expression unreadable. “Why would you? We’ve been too busy trying to outsmart each other.”

You couldn’t help but laugh softly. “Fair point. Maybe we should call a truce—for now.”

He smiled, just barely, and it was the first time you’d seen him let his guard down.

As the project progressed, the two of you started to find common ground. You discovered his love for science wasn’t just about theories and equations—it was about helping people.

“Why are you so passionate about this?” you asked one day as he carefully calibrated a piece of equipment.

He hesitated, then said, “Because I want to make a difference. I has a chronic illness, and I’ve spent years struggling with treatments that barely work. I want to change that for me, and for anyone else going through the same thing.”

His words hit you like a punch to the chest. You’d always thought of him as cold and detached, but now, you saw the fire that drove him.

“That’s… incredible,” you said softly.

He shrugged, his cheeks tinged with color. “It’s just what I care about. What about you? What drives you?”

You hesitated, caught off guard by the question. But as you opened up about your own dreams and ambitions, you realized something had shifted between you.

On the night before the project was due, you were sitting in his garage, putting the final touches on your presentation. It was late, and the two of you were running on caffeine and adrenaline.

“Here,” he said, handing you a mug of tea. “You’re going to burn out if you keep pushing yourself.”

“Look who’s talking,” you teased, taking the mug.

For a moment, neither of you spoke, the quiet hum of the garage filling the space.

“You’re not so bad, you know,” he said suddenly, his voice low.

You raised an eyebrow. “Is that your idea of a compliment?”

He smiled faintly, looking down at his hands. “I mean it. I’ve never met anyone who challenges me the way you do. It’s… refreshing.”

Your cheeks warmed, and you looked away, pretending to focus on the data. “Well, don’t get used to it. I’m not going easy on you just because you’re finally being nice.”

“Wouldn’t expect anything less,” he said, and there was a softness in his tone that made your heart race.

[hcneymooners]

⋆ you pull my hair, you call me.

jinx x mermaid!f!reader. men & minors dni.

synopsis: you are a mermaid living in a hidden grotto of the undercity. one day, jinx wanders into your territory. or more accurately, the ruins of her old haunt.

cw: mermaid!reader, canon divergence!au, discussions of trauma, discussion of child loss, mental health issues, non-sexual intimacy, sfw, however, there are suggestive themes, age gap, girl you are literally thousands of years old.

notes: in these coming days, i hold on tightly to fantasies. they become stronger, more intricate. i feel it is my only way to survive. this is dedicated to @s-4pphics, the only person who makes me feel like a real life mermaid.

The water remembers everything. It's why you were born into it. Your mind is a steel trap, a lattice of love and loss.

Water does not coddle the memory, but it soothes. When your mother crawled into the reservoir to birth you, it did not coddle her naked body as it twisted and expelled you. It did nothing to lessen the sore peaks of her nipples as her breasts swelled and hardened with milk. But it soothed.

Your birth was similar to the experience of having birds flutter out of one’s chest. You came into the world with the rush of wind and at the peak of death, eyes big and your silence even larger. You were a beautiful baby with a delicately scaled face, and from the beginning your mother knew you were different.

She holds you, tells you her name—a name that means one thousand flowers. It fits her; you understand this even one minute fresh into your life. Your mother was one thousand flowers both blooming and decaying at once.

You were born in the winter, snow touching the tender skin of your forehead. It is also winter when your mother, a woman of a thousand flowers, dies.

Her body seems to flutter and pulse until it shudders into foam. The water soothes you as you sink. You stay on the ocean floor for what is close to forever. The years pass, but water remembers.

It remembers the screaming, the fire, the way the undercity shattered like a dropped mirror. The shards spun out and out. You never braved the world, then. You would come close to the surface, float backward and bent as you watched the sky smear into green gas and heat. The water—and therefore you—remember the taste of ash and gunpowder, the iron-rich flavor of blood and revenge.

But mostly, you remember her—that odd girl with chaos pumping inside of her like a second, third heart who came stumbling through the wreckage of her old workshop, trailing ghosts and grief like a burial shroud.

You've been watching her for days. Your kind has always been drawn to broken things, to the places where pain bleeds into water until you can't tell where one ends and the other begins. She fascinates you with her paleness, with her long body that is painted and bared by the shoddy work of her pants and the cut of her top. You hide behind large chunks of driftwood, eye the swivel of her hips as she paces and turns. Her eyes are strange, too pale ghosts colored silvery blue. She closes them, opens, closes.

She is like a small bird, this woman. She carries destruction in her hands but cradles it like a wounded animal at times, afraid to hold too tight, afraid to let go. The first time she breaks, it's like watching a star collapse.

She falls to her knees at the water's edge, her wail echoing off the mineral-crusted walls of what was once her sanctuary. Her hands tear and tug at her braids as if she could rip the memories right out of her skull, like plucking loose the weave of a tapestry. The water around you shivers with her anguish, and your body preens; it tells you that you cannot stay hidden any longer.

You rise from the depths like a dream, your hair carrying traces of phosphorescent algae that provide a lazy glow as it swirls around your face. Her eyes fix on you, fever-bright and wild, but she doesn't run. Maybe she thinks you're a hallucination. Maybe she's just too tired to be afraid. 

You understand this.

The silence lasts for a while. The two of you exist across from one another, your face settling on your hands as you inch forward. She has yet to notice the flutter of your tail, but it's only a matter of time. You can see the light refracting off of it into a million sparks of light, dancing across the ceiling as you near her.Her mouth parts and you feel your own hinge open. You are trying to remember, trying to make yourself just like her if only to assuage her fear. Your tongue unfurls, neat and a deep blue. She blinks in surprise, which allows you to speak first.

"I am [Name]," you say, and your voice is a gentle purr like someone has stumbled over the strings of a harp. You are learning, thinking of how humans relate to one another. You don't tell her your real name, your name birthed by ocean and the melt of your mother's scale in the middle of your tongue. You are a woman of a thousand white waves, because every woman in your family has a thousand of something. "This, here, is my home."

You reach out now, because you have seen this before. Her people hug and grasp at one another in welcoming. The woman jerks, falls with a sick crunch on one of those pale hips in an effort to get away from you. You are hurt, and alarmed, and retreat further into the water. Your hand is still clawed as if to hold hers.

"Get back," she warns, voice raw and hoarse. Her eyes repeat their pattern. Close, open. Open and close. You close yours to see what she sees. Your eyelids are thin, translucent. The world can still be seen. She is right in front of you. "I'll hurt you. I'm a curse; I hurt everything.”

You open your eyes now, reach for her anyway. Your scaled hands catch hers, gentling them away from her hair. You smooth the strands, like your sister would do to you when the poachers came.

"My kind cannot be cursed," you tell her. This close she can feel the vibration, the way that your voice carries echoes of tidal pools and deep-sea trenches. "We are older than magic, older than pain. A different kind of creature."

She laughs, and it sounds like breaking glass. "Yeah? Well I bet you've never met anything like me before."

But you have. You've seen the way trauma can twist a soul, how it can make someone forget the shape of their own heart. You've watched your own kind waste away from grief and pollution, watched your bloodline dwindle to almost nothing. You recognize the look in her eyes—it's the same one you saw in your sister's before the toxic waste claimed her, before disease took your mother.

"Do not tell me what you think I know," you answer and she fidgets within your hold.

You are unsure of how to calm her, so you rummage deep inside of your long memory. You think of your mother. Now, you know. You pull her into the water with you, and she thrashes at first—all spinning limbs and desperate gasping. She is much like a fish at the end of a hook, you think. But you hold her, humming an ancient lullaby that vibrates through the water around you both.

Your singing voice, your Melody was always more unsightly than the others. So much higher and almost dissonant, like the cry of a whale during its migration. You mostly Sang alone, while others Sang together. But it winds around Jinx; maybe she is dissonant too. Slowly, so slowly, she stills.

"This is my body," you murmur, pressing close, your scales catching the ethereal light. "And this is yours." Your hands trace her tattoos like star maps, feeling the stories written in ink and scar tissue. You pause at her stomach, feeling an old grief there. You cast your Melody again, and it falls like a net over the skin underneath your fingers.

"You had a child," you say softly, and she goes rigid in your arms.

"Yes.” She admits this truth as if it hurts her. “She was not—not mine.”

“What was her name?”

“Isha,” she chokes out. “She was... I was supposed to protect her." 

“Mmm,” you say. “She was yours. I can feel it. She was yours, and you lost her.” 

You adjust your embrace, thumb at her bottom lip to reveal her blunt teeth. You have no understanding that this is not normal, that this touching and holding and avid tenderness is not of their culture. This woman, this bloodless weeping woman gazes at you. 

“Your motherhood,” you murmur, “sits inside you like a stone. It is closed, like an oyster. You must name it to begin to release the pain.” 

You press down on her lip. 

“What is your name?”

“Jinx,” she whispers.

“Good,” you tell her. “So, you are Jinx. Jinx, mother of Isha.”

The words seem to break something loose in her, and suddenly she's crying—great, heaving sobs that shake her whole body. You hold her through it, letting her tears mix with the mineral-rich water of your grotto. Strange woman, you think. She is a strange, sweet thing.

Her stomach tenses and releases, over and over. You never once stop your Song.

𓇼 ⋆｡˚ 𓆝⋆｡˚ 𓇼

Days blur together after that. Time moves strangely here. The two of you are a jigsaw puzzle of connection, platonic or maybe familial. You do not ask, preferring to preserve what you have. 

Jinx is shy in the first few moments, a trait you suspect is unfamiliar to her. She builds herself a nest above the waterline: a chaos of stolen furniture and salvaged tech that somehow fits the space perfectly. You watch her work, fascinated by how her hands can create as easily as they dismantle. Sometimes she catches you staring and explains things to you—human concepts that make little sense but delight you anyway.

You measure progress not in days but in small victories: the first time Jinx falls asleep with her head in your lap, fingers curled trustingly around your scales. The morning she lets you rebraid her hair, your webbed fingers gentle against her scalp as you weave strands of luminescent crystal through the blue. The day she shows you how to make paper boats and sets them afloat with tiny lights inside, until the cavern ceiling reflects a mirror image of the stars she remembers from her brief childhood.

You offer up knowledge in return. You speak the thick language of old, born of trench sand and sulfur cracks. She loves when you sing, when your mouth unhinges to show your blue tongue and slightly jagged teeth. She wades into the grotto, standing in the shallow water that barely reaches her ankles, and closes her eyes. She sways as your Melody flows over her, shivering as if touched by cold.

You usually finish the performance by swimming to her, carefully holding her ankles between your extended claws and calling directly to her. This is your favorite—a secret you keep close. You adore how she gazes down at you, how her eyes trace the curve of your slick breasts and torso as you rise to meet her.

You climb until your noses brush, and then you laugh, a sound like the gentle puff of a flute. When you laugh, your gills seize and flex, and Jinx places a hand against them, tracing them until you crook your neck and trill. (That's her favorite.)

"[Name], you can't just walk around topless all the time," she tells you one day, trying not to laugh as you examine a shirt with obvious confusion. The fabric flutters strangely in her hands. "Humans are weird about bodies."

"But they're just bodies," you say, running a webbed hand over your scales. Again, her eyes follow. She closes her eyes, thinking of how your breasts are round and soft like the moon in her hand. You reach out, drawing her closer until she's touching you. "See? This is just flesh. The body is only a  house for our soul."

She grows quiet then, thoughtful in a way that makes her look younger. "Maybe that's why I'm so messed up. My house is... kind of a disaster zone."

You pull her close, letting your tail manifest and wrap around her legs. "Then we'll build you a new one. Piece by piece."

The trust comes in fragments, in stolen quiet moments. Some days she can't bear to be touched, and you give her space, watching from the depths as she paces and talks to ghosts you can't see. Other days she's almost peaceful, letting you massage her scalp or teaching you human games with cards that always seem to explode at exactly the wrong moment.

One night, the voices in her head were particularly loud. You hear it from beneath the water—you sleep closer to the surface since meeting her—and rise to find her jolting in her sleep. You don't think, only move, remembering to rid yourself of your tail only when it scrapes against a sheet of metal jutting from the sand.

You hum agitatedly, distressed by her furrowed brow and trembling body, then take her deeper into the grotto than she's ever been before. Here, crystal formations pulse with bioluminescence, casting rainbow shadows on walls that have never known sunlight. Schools of blind fish dart around you both, their scales glowing like fallen stars.

It takes her a while to wake, but you stay suspended and curled around her. You keep watch, eyeing the murky kelp forests that tease at your fins. There are other, older ways into this grotto that never bothered you before. But now, you're too aware of all the ways someone could reach the jinx resting in your arms.

You see bubbles snort from her nose as she begins to stir, and you move quickly to pluck a shell from the rainbow-dusted walls. The inside is sticky and suctions to her mouth, threading a tendril inside to loop around her lungs and better facilitate her breathing underwater. You don't understand why it works, but you've seen the surface swimmers use it before.

Jinx makes a horrible rasping noise before the shell's work settles in, and then breathing comes easier. The shell is now translucent and attenuated. She cups your side as she shifts in your hold, her unbraided hair thick around her face.

"This is beautiful," she whispers, and for once there's no edge to her voice, no great waiting catastrophe. You know she means you.

"Thank you," you respond, smiling with all your teeth. She smiles crookedly back.

"This was my mother's sanctuary," you tell her, leading her to a cave where ancient glyphs cover the walls. You see her back bend with the water's pressure, and you slow your pace. "There used to be many of me, my bloodline. But the surface world's poisons reached even here." You trace one of the symbols—a spiky, spherical rune that you think means 'confession'. This glyph is older than you, part of a complex language no surface dweller nor merfolk of this time has spoken in millennia. "Now there are only three of us left."

She's quiet for a long moment, her hand finding yours in the glowing water. "Does it ever get easier? Being the only one who survived?"

You think of your sister's last days, of your mother's fading voice. "No," you answer honestly. "But it becomes... different. The pain changes shape, becomes something you can carry without breaking."

She leans into you at that, and you feel the tremors that always precede one of her episodes. But this time, she doesn't fight it. She lets you hold her as the chaos revisits her, trusts you to keep her head above water—in a manner of speaking—as she shakes apart and slowly, slowly comes back together.

𓇼 ⋆｡˚ 𓆝⋆｡˚ 𓇼

It doesn’t simply disappear. Jinx is one of the spirits’ favorite souls to torture and possess.

Most nights, the past continues to crawl up through the cracked floors of the grotto like a cadaver, its saccharine breath seeping into Jinx's dreams until she wakes screaming. And on most of these nights, you find her in her nest of blankets and broken things, her skin fever-hot and her eyes seeing horrors you cannot share.

But after you take her down, beneath the surface, it is different. Now, most nights, she comes to you.

The pattern is the same: you hear her bare feet on the stone before you see her, padding toward the water's edge like a sleepwalker. Her hair is almost always loose, falling around her face in a cascade that reminds you of the sharp stretch of evening sky across the Arctic Ocean. Then she reaches the pool's edge, but she doesn’t stop.

The water accepts her like a lover, closing over her head in a gentle baptism. You rise to meet her, your form shifting in the dipping waves. You cup the nape of her neck and insert the shell. Your skin takes on its natural sheen, scattered with scales that catch the light like opals. Your hair moves as if still underwater even when you break the surface, glistening tendrils floating around your face. Your eyes are all pupil and hold the depths of the ocean, ancient and knowing, utterly without fear. You reach for her, and, like in the beginning, she still tries to pull away; you simply shake your head.

"Your curse cannot touch me," you remind her, your voice like water over stones. "I am not of your world." Your hands move to cup her face, thumbs brushing away tears that roll from the puffy cliff’s edge of her pale eyes. "I am of the deep places, the dark waters. We recognize our own, remember?"

Remember? You always ask her this. It’s all she ever does.

You rise fully from the water then, your form shifting like light through waves until you stand on human legs, naked and gleaming. You pull Jinx to her feet and begin to undress her with the innocent purpose of a child, unbound by human conventions of modesty or shame. She allows it, trembling—not from cold or fear, but from the overwhelming sensation of being touched without consequence, of being seen. She has yet to confess how much she needs this.

"This is my body," you murmur, pressing close, your scaled hands tracing the bridge of her spine. You are reminding her. "And this is yours. We are both such difficult creatures."

"I don't understand you," she whispers, but her hands come up to trace the patterns of your scales, mapping the places where your skin shifts from human to something else entirely.

You catch her hand and press it flat against your chest, letting her feel the strange rhythm of your heart—beating in time with the tides.

"Fear is for those who have something to lose. My kind has already lost almost everything. What's left is..." You pause, searching for words in a language not made for shadowy creatures like you. "What's left is precious because it survived. I am surviving. You are surviving with me.”

Something shifts in her expression then, understanding blooming like oil across the top of a gulf. Her fingers tangle in your hair, pulling you closer until your foreheads touch.

"Show me again," she breathes, begging. Her breath smells sweet, like candy under the tongue and behind the teeth. "Please."

You take her deeper into the grotto than before, past the engraved walls and into the true heart of your domain. Here, the water is almost desperately alive, swirling with colors that have no names in any human tongue. Your tail manifests fully, lashing out. You seem to be made of living jewels. You are a terrible, beautiful monster; your body twists like a snake as you duck and dive. Jinx watches, transfixed, as you dance through the water, showing her your true way of living.

You do what your kind does when in love. You Sing. You Pull her.

"I've been trying to fix my machines," she says when your last note fades. You are shaking. You have never Sung that hard before. Your Melody has undone you, and you swim weakly back to her. She touches your face, dusts your cheeks with her pruned fingertips. "To make lights that look like this." She gestures at the bioluminescent display around you. "But I keep fucking it up. Everything I touch turns to..."

"A mess," you finish for her. These thoughts are not new. "But a mess is not always born of destruction." You guide her hand through the water, watching the way the disturbed bioluminescence creates new patterns, new constellations. "Sometimes it's just change. It is new, without guidance. You are trying again, relearning. This is only necessary disorder."

She laughs, but it's softer than usual. "Is that what I am? Disordered?"

You pull her closer, letting your tail wrap around her legs as you float together in the heart of the sea. "You are what you choose to be. Here, in these waters, you don't have to be anything but yourself." You pull back so that you can see your hands as you sign to her, curl your fingers into the symbols she’s seen on the walls.

You have changed me. You mouth the words so that she truly understands. You sign it again, across her naked chest so that she can feel the drag of your claws and the pump of her blood in response.

"I don’t feel changed, and I don’t want to ruin you. What if I am still broken?" Her voice cracks on the last word.

"Then be broken here with me," you tell her, pressing your lips to her temple. "The water remembers everything, but it also cleanses. It changes. It heals."

She turns in your arms, and for once, her eyes are clear. No fever, no muddle—just Jinx, looking at you like she’s seeing you for the first time. Her hands find your face, thumbs tracing the almost invisible scales at your temples. You raise your hands, fingers contorting as you sign once more.

We have changed each other. It is a symptom of love.

Jinx says nothing, then she moves. You forget how agile she can be at times. With a few spritely movements, she is holding your waist and treading water. One hand comes up, cradling your face. There is a pause, and you glance at her, eyes wide with confusion and anticipation. This is new. She studies you, and you belatedly realize she is waiting for something. Permission, you think.

“Yes?” you ask. She smiles; it’s the right answer.

She slips out the shell, and you startle. This is dangerous, but she doesn’t care. She stops you.

Her hand nestles thoroughly in your hair, tilting your head until your flesh is exposed to her lips. Again and again, she presses her mouth to your neck. She suckles, nips, until your tail flicks. She is kissing you. You’ve never been kissed before—not like this.

Her teeth dig in, needling at the meat of your throat until it’s mottled and bruised. Then her lips come up to yours. At first, you breathe into her mouth to give her oxygen. Jinx pulls back, grips your jaw, and shakes you slightly. Then her lips return to yours, applying pressure until you open your mouth and allow her tongue in. She licks at your teeth, tracing the points as she holds you to her.

You feel lightheaded, disoriented. You feel good; you want more of her. After a long while, she breaks the contact. Her thumb settles at the base of your throat, slipping to the side to play with your gills. You trill sharply, and she laughs. You don’t want to say it, but you know—you want it to stay this way forever.

Jinx takes her shell from where she had placed it on her stomach. She allows it back into her throat, breathing in deeply. Then she lifts her hands and signs to you—clumsy but earnest.

Yes. You have changed me. It is a symptom of love.

𓇼 ⋆｡˚ 𓆝⋆｡˚ 𓇼

"I used to think I had to be loud," she tells you one night, floating on her back in the shallow parts of the grotto. Her hair fans out around her head like spilled ink, and you can't help but run your fingers through it, watching the way it parts around your hands. "Had to be crazy, had to be Jinx, because if I wasn't, then I'd have to be... her. The girl I was before. And she was weak. She got left behind."

You hum softly, the crystals below resonating in harmony. "Perhaps she wasn't weak," you suggest, tracing the constellation of freckles on her shoulder. "Perhaps she was just unfinished, like a pearl before the ocean completes its formation."

She turns to look at you then, the emotion in her eyes making your heart beat in that strange double rhythm that only happens when she's near.

"Is that what you're doing?" she asks. "Finishing me?"

You shake your head, pulling her closer until she's cradled against your chest, her back to your front, both of you suspended in the gentle current. "No one can complete you but yourself. I'm just... holding the space for you to do it.”

She's quiet for so long you think she might have fallen asleep. Then: "I’m in love with you." Her voice is barely a whisper, as if the words might shatter the peace.

Instead of answering, you press your lips to her shoulder, right where a new tattoo is healing—a pattern of waves and crystals mirroring your own scales. You helped her design it, watching in fascination as she used her clever hands to create the automaton.

"For us," you tell her, "it is different. We don't fall in love the way humans do. There's less emphasis on choices. It’s more like... finding a current that matches your own, something that pulls you in the same direction for the rest of your life. I've been swimming in your current since the day you arrived. There’s a vibration you release, deep inside me. You set it off, again and again."

Your mouth works oddly around the word "belly." She smiles at your struggle, turning in your embrace to press her forehead to yours in the way she knows you love. Her hands find your face, and you press a kiss to her fingers, grazing your teeth over her thumb. She shivers, captures your mouth briefly, then tucks herself back against you. Drowsy, she begins to dream and you let her, drifting your body lazily along the stretch of water to rock her.

It is then that you hear them—footsteps on stone, careful and measured. You recognize them instantly: the heavy tread of the enforcer, the lighter step of her companion. They've been searching for months, following rumors of blue hair seen in the Undercity's depths.

Jinx doesn't hear them, not yet. She’s drifting in that peaceful place between wakefulness and sleep, her body trustingly pliant in your embrace. She’d had an episode before this—memories of fire leaving her shaking for hours. But now she's quiet, her breathing synced with the gentle lap of water against stone.

You sense her presence before you see her, a disturbance in the air that makes the algae pulse brighter. The Sister. Her presence feels much like Jinx’s but more weathered, carrying the weight of blood. It catches in your throat unpleasantly, making you want to cough. Her footsteps falter at the grotto's entrance. The other one—Caitlyn, you recall—steadies her with a touch, but neither makes a sound.

They stand frozen at the sight before them: Jinx floating in the ethereal water, her hair unbound and threaded with living light, her face peaceful in a way they've never seen. Your tail curls protectively around her legs beneath the surface, scales catching and reflecting the cavern's natural light until it seems like you're both in some unreachable heaven. You bare your teeth to shatter the fantasy.

The Sister’s sharp intake of breath echoes off the stone. Jinx stirs slightly, but you soothe her with a soft hum, reworking her lullaby until the water itself vibrates in harmony. Her fingers tighten briefly on your arms before relaxing again.

When you meet the Sister’s eyes over Jinx's shoulder, you see tears tracking silently down her face. There's recognition there, and grief, and something like hope. You see the moment she understands what you are—not just a creature of the deep but a guardian. Her sister’s keeper; her sister’s mate.

Caitlyn moves forward as if to speak, but Violet—yes, Violet—stops her with a gentle touch. They watch as you shift slightly, letting them see how Jinx's newest tattoos mirror your own patterns—not random splashes of pain and memory but flowing lines that speak of partnership, of flesh and form meant to slot into one another.

A soft noise escapes Violet’s throat, something between a sob and a laugh. Jinx stirs again, and this time you let your gaze drop deliberately to her face, your webbed hands smoothing over her shoulders in a gesture that couldn't be more clear: She is safe here. She is loved here.

You raise a hand, your eyes slipping into their true state to make your threat clear. You know the Piltover girl will understand; her home is the home of poachers. Safe, you sign. Then, Go.

The Sister nods once, tears still falling. Her hand finds Caitlyn's and squeezes hard. You watch understanding pass between them—the recognition that sometimes healing happens in strange places, that sometimes love wears unfamiliar, frightening faces.

They turn to leave, but at the last moment, Violet looks back. Her lips form words you can read even across the distance: Thank you. Only when their footsteps fade completely do you press a kiss to Jinx's temple, tasting the salt of tears that aren’t your own.

"Are they gone?" Jinx's voice is quiet, still heavy with sleep.

"Yes," you answer honestly, because you've never lied to her and won’t start now.

She turns in your embrace, pressing her face into your neck where your scales fade into skin. "I'm not ready," she whispers. "Not yet."

"You can stay here," you promise, letting your tail wrap more securely around her. "For as long as you need. But you will not lose me. I will not lose you.”

She lifts her head to look at you, and her eyes are like silver dollars. You mimic her blinking for what must be the millionth time. Open, close. Close and open. She smiles at this. You smile, hollowing your throat to coo, mimicking the call of a bird of paradise. She laughs now; you are pleased.

 "Tell me again," she murmurs. "About your promise."

Your tail flicks as you nod.

“I will never leave; I will only follow,” you begin. The words are heavy, sacred mating rites belonging solely to your tribe. “The water flows across the earth; it is immovable. It is the human that will fade, not the earth, not myself. We will both replenish. Where you go, I will be there—past death and beyond.

Jinx rises, cupping your face firmly, her touch restricting your movement.

“Promise?” she asks, her voice dipping low, laced with danger.

“I promise.”

She presses her lips to your neck, her teeth sinking in as always. You let out a high, trembling sound, your control slipping. Suddenly, you’re human, treading water. Jinx hooks an arm beneath you, lifting you effortlessly as the water renders you weightless.

“I promise.”

You repeat it, over and over.

IpromiseIpromiseIpromiseIpromiseIpromiseIpromiseIpromiseI promiseI promise—

Jinx drags you from the grotto, positioning herself over you. Your words are still spilling out like a mantra.

“I know,” she murmurs.

Her warm, sugary lips cover yours, silencing you. She swallows you down.

© hcneymooners.

⚚ special taglist: @thatgrlnany @bubblestrbls @iluvwomensm @so-calledstr8 @the-record @blackdykegirlblogger @bugsinmypantsono @drgnflyteabox @montmorencys @rottngrl3 @vifilms @stupendousbananasharkcop @vminswrld @sevslefthand @fleshunger @soniiyi @sunhurtz @shootingc @diorblusher @nightlyconfusion @darkerstarsstuff @dollinin @16novvs @reign-azzz

[yinemw]

𝐛𝐚𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞

context: taking a bath with bf Viktor (gender neutral reader) I’d also like to add that this is my first time writing for a disabled character. Personally I’m not disabled so I wouldn’t know how that feels like, and it is not my intention to offend anyone or make Viktor’s disability the main focus in my writing. If anything is offensive or you guys have any tips or criticisms, I am happy to learn and fix anything!

warnings: nudity, nothing explicit though

character: Viktor from Arcane

m.list

“Is it working?” you asked innocently from behind Viktor, hands on his shoulders as you gently massage his muscles. Maybe a bit too softly for Viktor, he knew why though, you were always scared to hurt him, ever since the surgery on his back you were always extra gentle during your massages. So he knew why your fingertips sometimes felt feather light against his muscles.

“Oh uhm, yes” he answers, having been lost in his own thoughts as he looked down at the floor. Thinking about hextech as usual, new ways to improve and understand it. Wishing he was at the lab with Jayce, he didn’t like when you and Jayce wanted him to rest. “I’m feeling fine, let’s go to the lab”

“Viktor no” a sigh slips past your lips as you hold him down by the shoulders, making sure Viktor didn’t get up from the bed. The room dimly lit by a few candles and the moon shining from between the curtains. “It’s late—”

“Jayce is probably there”

“So you’d rather spend time with Jayce than me?”

“No that’s not what I said, it’s the hextech”

Your eyebrows furrow and fingers stop working on his shoulders. “You’d rather spend time working on hextech then spend time with me then”

He could hear the hurt in your voice and regretted his words. This wasn’t the first time you two had discussed the lack of time you spent together as a couple. Yes you saw each other at the lab every day, but it wasn’t like you were spending time with your boyfriend, it was spending time with your co-worker. “That’s not what I meant, and you know that” Viktor looks over his shoulder at you, leaning his forehead against yours. “I just feel restless…”

You knew that, you always paid more attention to Viktor than anyone else. It wasn’t because of his condition or anything , your gaze often just naturally wandered over to the pretty man. It was hard to take your eyes off of him, so you always saw the change of body language, knowing when he feels restless. “I know a way you could relax…since this massage clearly isn’t helping”

★

“Are you…joining me?” Viktor asked softly, leaning on his cane as he looked down at the bathtub. A few bubbles covering the surface of the warm water.

You light the last candle, placing it by the sink before turning to him. “If you want”

“I want” was all he said, letting his cane lean against the counter as he started to undress. Feeling your soft hands graze his skin as you help him, not like he necessarily needed the help to undress, but it was much appreciated. Today was just one of those days where everything seemed dull and dark, his body and mind both tired and restless at the same time.

With a little more help, Viktor sunk into the warm water of the bathtub, eyes closing as his mind wanders back to hextech. “I should be at the lab…”

“I will drown you”

A small smile spreads to his lips as he cracks open his eye to watch you undress. His beautiful significant other, the person who had stuck with him through everything. Who puts up with him and his stubbornness every single day and turned it into something amusing instead. “You’re beautiful” he mumbles, the words said in his accent seemed to have an even bigger effect on you.

Clearing your throat to pretend like nothing, you slip into the water. Sitting on the opposite side of the tub, knees held to your chest due to the small space. “We need to get a bigger bathtub” you say after watching some of the water spill over the edge.

Viktor had closed his eyes again, the tips of his hairs also submerged in the water. He felt light, and warm. It helped soothe his aches and pains, even if it was only a little, it was enough to make him feel more laid back than usual.

Finding a wash cloth and some soap, you gently start to rub it against Viktor’s skin. Starting with his shoulders, you lift his arms slightly to make sure you get every part of his body. You knew Viktor liked when you did this, the smell of your body wash and the gentle touch against his skin was always comforting.

But it wasn’t enough, wasn’t intimate enough. Discarding the washcloth, you decided to use your hands only. Skin to skin contact, to feel his muscles and skin against your fingertips. The soap making little bubbles float to the surface of the water, covering up his bare body. Some of the bubbles getting stuck to his neck and chin, glistening in the flickering lights of the candles.

“You okay?” You ask, just in case. He hadn’t said anything and his eyes had been closed the entire time. The sound of his soft breathing and water droplets filling the room.

He opens his eyes slowly, golden brown eyes meeting yours. Eyelashes wet due to the steam. “Yes” he answered simply, lifting his arms out of the water and tracing his slender hands across your chest and stomach. Innocent and soft touches against your skin, he pulled you closer to him. Not satisfied until you laid down between his legs. “I want to stay like this…you must be tired too”

He was right, you were tired, you just didn’t seem to realize until you felt how comfortable it was to lay against your boyfriend. You settle between his thighs and get into a more comfortable position, back rested against his chest. Viktor’s arms circling around your waist, holding you close and making sure you don’t slip underneath the surface of the water. His chin resting on top of your head, your body felt so soft and warm against his.

When Viktor first moved to Piltover he never understood the pleasure in taking a bath. To simply sit and soak in the water when there was so much else to do. But his whole perspective changed when he started dating you. You changed him, made his life easier, made his life brighter. As much as he wants to work at the lab, to build hextech into something that can help people, you made him realize that’s not all his life is about. So he tries to soak up every moment he has with you, and baths became a frequent routine in your relationship.

“Vik, did you fall asleep?” You chuckle softly, hearing how his breath slowed and how his arms loosened around your body. “We are going to turn into raisins if we stay here any longer, come on mister scientist”

Viktor groans, mumbling something under his breath as you force him out of the tub. Though he had to admit the water was starting to get a little too cold for his liking. And even if he would have preferred to stay a little longer, he couldn’t fight his smile as you tease him about his grumpiness.

“Do you enjoy making fun of a burnt out scientist, hm?” He teases back, throwing his towel over your head before starting to make a move to the bedroom. Still butt-naked, taking only his cane with him, the door to the bathroom wide open as he walks out. “I can feel you staring”

“Shut up!” You yell, though he wasn’t wrong. Taking a few extra seconds to admire his back, the way some water droplets still slid down his skin from the tips of his hairs. It wasn’t a view you could get sick of seeing easily.

After getting ready for bed, you join Viktor in the bedroom, seeing him already lay on the bed. Covers pulled up to his chin and eyes closed, though you knew he wasn’t asleep, his little snores were hard to miss.

“Oh to be a pretty sleeper”

Viktor only smiles sleepily, feeling the bed dip underneath your weight. He didn’t have to open his eyes or do anything, you naturally moved between his arms, molding to his body like a puzzle piece.

“So the bath helped you relax?”

“It does every time”

“Mmm good” you nuzzle into his neck, breathing in the scent of your body wash. His skin still a little damp and warm, some of the wet strands of his hair sticking to your forehead. You could feel how Viktor’s body went limp in your embrace after a few seconds. The room filling with his soft snores. If he fell asleep so quickly you knew he wasn’t lying, the bath really did do wonders.

“Goodnight Vik…sleep well my love”

[jinx-isha-forever]

Movie night

(Jinx x fem!reader)

Summary: Vi, Caitlyn, Jinx, Isha, and reader are having a movie night.

Warnings: none.

A/N: Another silly idea! Hope it’s an enjoyable read!

“I don’t know how to get this stupid thing to work.” Vi shouted annoyed. She’d been trying to get the movie projector to turn on for over an hour now.

Caitlyn was trying to find some “clean” pillows and blankets.

You roll your eyes at Vi’s words, watching her from a distance push random buttons. You knew she meant well, but she just wasn’t really good at tech stuff.

“Just wait till Jinx gets back with the movies.” You shout back to Vi from the other room.

You and Isha were making movie snacks.

“Like I’ve been saying this whole time.” You mumble the last part under your breath.

Isha giggled. Clearly catching your comment. You ruffle Isha’s hair, giggling slightly as well.

“Fiiiiine.” You hear Vi hit the couch.

Caitlyn returns with the pillows and blankets.

“Okay. These smell the best out of the pile.”

She says hitting Vi with a pillow. Laughing softly. Vi looks up at her surprised. Before retaliating. Hitting her back and laughing.

You and Isha both look at the time. Both of you were missing Jinx. She’d only been gone for a couple of hours. But still, you both agreed it felt waaaay longer.

You let out a deep sigh.

“Okay.” You look down at Isha in a playful demeanor.

“Last thing we need is some popcorn seasoning. And then our fortress of snacks will be complete.”

You say in a funny voice. Making Isha laugh.

You reach up to grab the seasoning when-

“Guess who?”

Hands come over your eyes.

It was Jinx.

“Hmmm……”

You say, playing along with the biggest smile on your face.

“Is it…….. Vi?”

“Nope.”

“What about some trouble maker off the street?”

“Oooo…getting warmer.”

She chuckles.

You grab her hands spinning around.

“Hey’a toots!”

“Jinx!” You punch her arm playfully.

Before giving her a hug.

“Wow! I wasn’t gone that long.”

She smiles. Leaning into the hug. You knew she loved the attention. Isha runs up hugging Jinx from behind.

“Isha!”

She turns around doing there fun handshake.

“Grab all the snacks kid. We got some movies to watch.” Jinx says excitedly, making her way over to the projector.

“Hey, Jinx.” Vi sits up.

“Sooo I don’t know why, but I couldn’t get that stupid thing to start.” She says motioning to the projector.

“Welllll…….did you try…. I don’t know…….”

Jinx pauses, picking up a tiny cord hiding underneath the couch. She then plugs it in to an outlet.

“Plugging it in?”

Light immediately comes out of the projector.

Jinx turns around folding her arms looking at Vi with a “you’re an idiot” look on her face.

Vi’s mouth is kinda open. Caitlyn moves closer to Vi on the couch.

“Don’t worry. I still love you. Even if you are a complete imbecile.” She leans in giving her a kiss on the cheek.

You and Isha bring in the rest of the snacks. Jinx puts the first movie in. It was something about a killer shark. Jinx had mentioned.

You decide to nestle yourself down in the blankets and pillows on the floor, since Vi and Caitlyn were clearly comfortable on the couch.

Isha follows your lead sitting right beside you, grabbing your arm and putting it around her. You chuckle at her cuteness. Letting her snuggle in.

Jinx starts the movie before joining you both on the floor.

She sits on your other side, grabbing a blanket and rapping it around you both.

You all snuggle in together.

-little time skip-

You and Isha jump as the huge shark on the screen pulled another swimmer down under the water. Jinx chuckles at you both, rapping her arms around you. Holding you tight.

“Is this classic too much for you toots?”

You nudge her playfully.

“This is actually like my favorite movie.”

You whisper back.

You look over at Isha, feeling her move around.

Isha had given up on hiding behind a blanket and turned her head towards you, using your arm instead.

“Hey, you okay kid?”

You whispered.

She nods while still holding your arm over her eyes.

“It doesn’t even look that real.”

Caitlyn announced. Sounding annoyed.

Vi pats her head. Whispering.

“Then why did you almost jump in my lap cupcake?”

You could see the blush on Caitlyn’s cheeks even on the floor.

Jinx rolled her eyes.

As the movie goes on.

You slightly turn your head to look at Jinx. You admire the way the light from the movie bounced around on Jinx’s face. The way her eyes focused on the screen.

“You know you’re beautiful right?” You whisper in her ear.

She looks at you, grabbing your hand under the blankets, squeezing it lightly.

“Not as beautiful as you are trinket.” She whispered back.

You could see the love in her eyes.

Jinx looks over at Isha….

(Still hiding behind your arm.)

Before leaning closer to your face. Giving you a kiss. She pulls back. Cupping your cheek.

“I want you to stay here forever.” Her voice is soft but serious.

You smile. Rubbing your thumb softly against her hand.

“I’m not going anywhere.”

[stalkedandblocked]

camgirl!reader x sevika

tw. reader and sevika are live, regular au (?? i have no idea how to word it 😭) masturbation (reader), strap on, fingering, cunnilingus (giving and receiving), sevika puts you in a headlock, squirting, overstim, sucking the strap

while in college you get a little bored of your mundane life, and with some free time during the night and also in need of some more money you start an only fans account. after growing quite a following you decide to do a raffle to stream with one of your fans to make things more interesting.

a/n: this took so long holy moly. i hope y’all liked this because this is one of my first times writing a full fic <3 like and reblog if ur a real sevika truther :D

with your tripod and camera on your bed infront of you, you moan, “mmmf… im so close,” you arch your back off the bed as you press the vibrator harder onto your clit. you spread your legs wider, giving a show to the camera. “fuck- oh my god,” your hips start bucking and you throw your head back, you moan and cry as your orgasm hits you, the painful feeling of overstimulation comes quickly but you keep the vibrator on your pussy and your whole body trembles through your orgasm. panting like a dog, you finally turn off the vibrator and place it to the side.

you lift your shaky body and sit on your knees in front of the camera, putting your hands in your lap to squeeze your breast together. you start to announce the little idea you had. messages are spammed in the chat, asking for you to chose them, that they’ll even send money for you to choose them, and asking about what you mean by this. you only giggle and say, “it’s just a thought you pervs, i thought it might be fun to chose one of you randomly and see if you’d be interested in streaming with me.”

the chat dies down on the questions and you say a few more words to say goodbye, before ending the stream by blowing them a kiss.

after hopping in the shower and getting yourself clean, you change into some comfy pajamas before making a post on your page.

‘hi to all my fans! i’m so glad you guys were interested in my proposal, if your in the area dm me for a chance to stream with me ;), i can’t wait!’ after pressing send you turn your phone off and head to bed, hoping that hopefully this won’t be a mistake, and that whoever you chose isn’t entirely horrendous looking.

the next day you check your phone, a couple hundred dm’s are in your inbox. most being people from far away asking if they can fly out but you stick to your word, you find one from an account who sent their address. “let’s see what this person has to offer” you think to yourself. you text back and forth before ultimately asking for a photo of them holding some id next to them so you know they’re not lying about their identity.

a while passed before the account responds, there was no indication about who this person might be so your surprised to see a woman, another notifications sends and it’s a photo of her id attached. you look closer at it, her names sevika, she’s quite a bit older than you, but that didn’t bother you. you ponder for a bit, you’ve never had sex with a woman, but was not opposed to the idea. but yes, even thought the photo of herself is a bit awkward, even reminding you of a parents facebook photo which makes you laugh to yourself a bit, she is very attractive. and from what you can see she seems quite muscular.

“alright”, and you send her an address of a restaurant near both of your homes and tell her to meet you there tomorrow and 4pm.

the next day, you put on a simple going out outfit, nothing to make it obvious your meeting a stranger to fuck her, then head out the door. as you walk to the restaurant you feel butterflies, obviously you had only even been with men, but she was, well, very sexy you thought. the idea excited you but also made you nervous.

as you sat at a table and tell the waitress your waiting for somone, another walks into the restaurant. you miss her face but her hair is tied half up and it’s short, a few inches above her shoulder. she’s also is very tall. you gulp, from what you remember that looks like her. she scans the restaurant before you make eye contact. she walks over to you and sits across from you.

“you must be sevika,” you smile, feeling more nervous than you expected to be. when she responds her voice is deep and smooth, her words are almost seductive. compared to your messages and how she talks to you she seems much more ready and nonchalant about this whole situation in real life. everything about her attracts you, “so did you have any ideas of when you’d like to.. ahem” you try to keep your voice down so no one hears and gets any ideas, “..stream”.

sevika is lazily leaning back in her char, legs nudged open a bit. she leans over the table, resting her arms on it, “i’m ready whenever you are.” you have no idea if she meant to make you flustered, or tried to make it sound sexy but her words melt you brain almost. you stand quickly and grab her arm, “let’s do it today, let’s do it now!” you squeal out before your dragging her out of the restaurant.

sevika had driven so she directs you to her car, you drive to your house and you walk up the stair together after she grabs a bag out of the back of her car. your whole body is warm and fuzzy with excitement. “i usually wear some lingerie when i start, as you probably know. would you like some or do you want to start naked?” you ask, grabbing a matching to set to change into.

“naked.” she responds, she watches as you walk to the bathroom to change. you throw a robe out of the bathroom so she can cover herself before you start. you come out in your set, wearing a robe as well. she sits on your bed watching, “let me set up the camera and then we can begin. did you have anything in mind on what we want to do, what we want to follow?”

“i have ideas for later, but let’s not worry about that now.”

you begin the stream, sevika sits naked on your bed, and you take the robe off infront of the camera. sevika places a hand on your hip guiding you to her lap before you crawl over her. each touch feels like sparks, your already soaked and anticipating what’s gonna happen. you grab eachother and start kissing, her tongue runs over your lip and your lips crash against each other. you sit down on her lap and slowly move your hips over her muscular thighs, you moan into her mouth. “that’s a good girl,” she praises, before continuing to kiss you.

she grabs your hips roughly, helping them move back and forth, you arch and moan for her. your chat is going crazy, some even shocked that it’s another woman. she stops your grinding and lifts your hips up a bit before dragging her thick finger up and down your slit. both of you seem like you forgot that your streaming and just enjoy each others bodies. she rubs your clit in circles, making your toes curl. she takes you from on top of her and flips you to face the camera, spreading your legs, the exposing position making you even wetter. she slides your panties to the side so the camera can see your wet cunny, she starts rubbing circles on your clit makes you throw your head back.

she chuckles at you, “don’t make me hold you head up. already so sensitive, huh?” her mocking words make you moan once more, she begins teasing your hole before nudging her index and middle finger into you. her fingers are so thick and long, your already seeing stars, “fuck! yes! right there sevika, oh my god-” you scream out as she adds her ring finger inside. your juices leak all over her lap and hand. your head leans against her and you mewl into her ear, begging to cum. as you finally start to reach your orgasm she pulls out her fingers and slaps your pussy.

“fuck!” you cry out as your body reacts to your ruined orgasm, sevika chuckles. you breathe heavily as sevika manhandles your basically limp body, laying it on the bed, she starts pulling down your panties and the slick dripping between your legs is more visible than ever. you arch your back slightly off the bed and she unclips your bra, she stops what she’s doing and stares at them. you giggle and can’t tell if it’s from embarrassment or because of her expression, like she’s almost captivated. your breasts fall from the bra and lay prettily on display, which sevika quickly takes advantage of and begins to suck at on of your nipples and knead the other. you let at small moans while kisses litter your tits.

she lifts her head up and smirks “are you ready?” she asks, with having no idea what she’s talking about, you eagerly nod. she begins moving her body over yours and places her bare pussy on your face, letting down all her weight, then spreading your legs and burrying her face in your own cunt. your almost shocked by this, she starts teasing the tip of her tongue on your clit, before diving it into your hole, tongue fucking you and hitting all the good spots in your pussy. you moan against her cunt and try to copy her actions. you suck her clit and lap your tongue up and down her pussy, you squeeze around her tongue in response to her moaning. it’s low and vibrates through your whole body. it’s not long before you cum because of the previous teasing she had done earlier. you squeeze your legs around her head and buck up, trying to keep up the pace with how your lapping her pussy, but inevitably struggle from how your body is shaking against her face.

sevika places one last sloppy kiss to your clit then raises herself, and grinds against your face until she orgasms, gripping onto your hair. the moans she lets out makes your pussy ache.

while coming down form your high you lay next to each other panting, forgetting about the stream itself. “you okay, baby?” sevika asks, places kisses on your neck. “mhm,” you mumble, relaxing into the bed as she kisses you. “well, i think it’s time for what i had planned for earlier”, she gets up and disappears off camera. across the room she pulls something out of her bag that she had grabbed earlier. she begins to attach something to her hips, and before you know it she’s standing over you with a strap on.

it’s so thick and long, you gulp. not even with any men had you had to take something for big. “i know your wet enough but, i don’t think this is” sevika lets out a sly smile. her height already towers over you, so even standing and you sitting in the bed has you face to face with it. “suck it.” she orders and obediently you do. you place your hands around it, looking up at her with puppy dog eyes, and slowly thrust your mouth down onto it. she stares down at you and bites her lip. you bob your head up and down, slowly reaching down with each thrust, your throat adjusts around it and you gag against it and sevika laughs. she places one hand on your head to tug at your hair. once you finally reach down the base she holds your head down. the length makes your eyes tear up as you gag even more.

she pulls your hair back until your off of it and pushes you down to the bed. still grasping your hair she puts your face down into the pillows and keeps your ass up before crawling over you. she has your face infront of the camera and wraps her arm around you. her thick biceps flex as she grabs the strap to line it up at your cunt. she wastes no time pushing it in, when she bottoms out your eyes roll back and without even moving it feels almost heavenly. she starts thrusting slowly before they become almost rapid, her arm squeezes around your throat even more and you moan and gasp. “taking it like such a good little slut,” she purred. you let out a messy smile and your moans just couldn’t stop coming out. they way it felt against your g-spot and pounded into you made your toes curl.

“se-sevika!” you drooled, “i’m gonna cum, please! hah, keep going!” you screamed, sevika took no time and started pounding into you more, her free arm rubbing your clit, fast circles against the puffy aching bud. your body shook and your eyes rolled back into your head, sevika thought they might never go back. you cried out before you finally squirted all over yourself and the bed, the liquid covering your stomach, the sheets and sevikas hand. “holy shit” sevika gasped at the reaction to your orgasm. your whole body was stiff and shaking, your mouth tried to let out moans but nothing came out as your eyes rolled back as hard as they could. your body went limp onto the bed, sevika pulled out of you, a line of slick breaking as the contact broke. you whined at the sudden emptiness.

she grabs the camera and faces it towards you, she spreads your weak legs showing the amount of cum that had leaked from your hole and everything that had dripped onto the sheets and between your thighs. “took it like the good slut she is,” she grabbed a handful of your ass and let out a laugh before she abruptly ended the stream.

she threw the camera onto the bed carelessly, then asked, “so, want to meet again next week?”

[frutigerfischl]

How about Sevika x Reader with Sevika being protective? Thank you :D

⌗ TITLE┆SHE REALLY LOVES ME┆song: drink ★ ₊ ˚⟡

⌗ TAGS┆gn reader, protective sevika, hcs, slightly ooc, based on s1 because I haven't watched s2 yet so idk how she acts there ★ ₊ ˚⟡

⌗ NOTE┆hey, I love this idea but didn't know if you wanted a oneshot or hcs since you didn't specify but I decided to do hcs since I don't usually do then and wanted to practice! If you wanted a oneshot you can inbox me and I'll write one, also if you're wondering my format has slightly changed ★ ₊ ˚⟡

⊹₊⟡⋆ TRUST

Sevika is suspicious of you at first. She doesn’t trust easily—not in Zaun, not with the life she’s lived. “People look out for themselves,” she tells you, a note of warning in her voice. “Don’t expect me to save your ass if you can’t hold your own.”

Except she does save you—over and over. The first time, it’s instinct: her blade catching a would-be attacker’s throat mid-swing. The second time, it’s with a grimace and a sharp, “Don’t make a habit of this.” But by the fifth? She doesn’t even bother pretending it’s a chore. She just growls, “Stay behind me,” as she steps into the fray, all muscle and menace.

⊹₊⟡⋆ PROTECTION

Sevika’s protection isn’t loud or showy. She’s not the type to shout declarations or pick you up over her shoulder in some grand display. No, her protection is quieter, more calculated—shadows moving on the periphery, her watchful gaze tracking the room while she leans back in her chair, exhaling smoke. You think she’s distracted, but you notice the subtle shift of her cybernetic arm whenever someone steps too close. One wrong move from them, and she’ll put them on the ground before you can blink.

You’re not sure when it starts, but Sevika always seems to know where you are. Whether you’re in the Last Drop nursing a drink or wandering the back alleys of Zaun, you’ll feel the weight of her gaze. At first, it’s unnerving—her sharp eyes tracking your every movement like you’re a potential threat. But over time, the edge softens. You catch her watching you with something warmer, something quieter. She’ll look away when you notice, muttering something about needing to “keep tabs on trouble.”

Despite her gruff demeanor, Sevika always insists on walking you home. “Zaun isn’t kind to people who walk alone,” she says, her tone leaving no room for argument. If you protest, she’ll just cross her arms and arch a brow. “What? You think I’ve got better things to do?”

⊹₊⟡⋆ AFFECTION

Sevika isn’t the kind of person who says what she feels, but her actions speak louder than words. She’ll shove a bowl of stew into your hands after a long day, grumbling something about “keeping your strength up.” If you don’t eat it fast enough, she’ll gruffly ask, “What, it’s not good enough for you?” even though you can tell she’s genuinely worried.

Her jacket? It’s yours now. You didn’t ask for it—she just draped it over your shoulders one night when the Zaun air turned cold. “Don’t read into it,” she snapped when you thanked her, but the warmth in her tone betrayed her.

There are nights when the weight of Zaun, of Silco’s war, of everything she’s done to survive, catches up to her. She won’t talk about it, but you can see it in the way her shoulders sag, in the way she stares at her drink like it holds all the answers. You don’t push her to open up—you just sit beside her, your presence quiet and steady. After a while, she’ll sigh and lean into you, her head resting against your shoulder. She won’t say anything, but the way her fingers brush against yours says enough.

Once, after a particularly close call, Sevika cups your face in her hand—her real hand, rough and calloused. “Don’t do that again,” she says, her voice low and raw. “I can’t…” She doesn’t finish the sentence, but the way her thumb traces over your cheek makes your heart ache.

[luvst4rc0r3]

“YOU’RE my wife, Sev”

Sevika x F!Reader

WC:1021

NOTE: establish marriage. I’m just lonely y’all.😰😭

It was late. The kind of late where even the hum of Zaun’s streets had dulled into a low murmur. You were sitting at the table in your shared apartment, carefully arranging a small bow on the gift you’d picked out for Sevika.

She’d been working long hours at Silco’s beck and call, barely home except for the nights she stumbled in after a few too many drinks. Tonight, though, you were prepared. You’d wanted to surprise her—a little reminder that she was loved, even when she didn’t think she deserved it.

The sound of the front door creaking open pulled your attention. Heavy footsteps followed, uneven and slow. You sighed, setting the gift down on the table. Sevika had finally made it back.

She appeared in the doorway, her tall frame slouched, her jacket hanging off one shoulder. Her usually sharp eyes were glassy, and she had that familiar sway to her step that screamed “too much whiskey.”

“Hey, you,” you said softly, trying not to startle her.

Her gaze locked onto you, and a slow, lazy grin spread across her face. “Hey… you.” Her words slurred together as she stumbled toward the table.

And then she saw it.

The gift.

Her brow furrowed as she leaned forward, squinting at the tag tied to the ribbon. She mouthed the words as she read them aloud: “To my dearest wife.”

She froze.

For a long moment, she just stared at the tag, her drunken mind working overtime to process what she’d just read. Then, like a dam breaking, her face crumpled.

“Wh—what the fuck?” she muttered, her voice shaky as tears started streaming down her face.

“Sevika?” you asked, standing from your chair.

But she didn’t answer. Instead, she sank to the floor, burying her face in her hands as she sobbed.

“Sevika! What’s wrong?” you asked, rushing to her side. You knelt beside her, resting a hand on her arm, but she flinched away, shaking her head.

“I—I didn’t know!” she cried, her voice muffled by her hands. “I didn’t know you had a wife!”

Your heart stopped for a moment, confusion washing over you. “What are you talking about?”

“You didn’t tell me,” she sobbed, looking up at you with wide, tear-streaked eyes. “You’re married! And—and she’s so lucky, you know that? You’re—you’re amazing. And I love you. But I can’t—I can’t even… I can’t even be with you because you’re taken.”

It hit you then.

Oh, she forgot.

“Sevika,” you started, trying to keep your voice calm.

“No, don’t,” she said, shaking her head violently. “Don’t make it worse. I already feel so stupid. I thought… I thought maybe I had a chance. But no, you’re married, and now I’m just—just some idiot in love with someone she can’t have.”

You bit your lip, fighting back a laugh. As heart-wrenching as her drunken meltdown was, the situation was too ridiculous to ignore.

“Sevika,” you said again, gently cupping her face in your hands. Her tear-filled eyes locked onto yours, and you could see the devastation written all over her expression.

“You’re my wife.”

She blinked.

“What?”

“You’re my wife, Sev” you repeated, your voice soft but steady. “The gift is for you.”

Her brows knitted together, her lips parting slightly as if to argue, but no words came out. You could practically see the gears turning in her hazy mind.

“For me?” she whispered after a moment, her voice small.

You nodded. “Yes, for you.”

“But… wait. I’m your wife?”

You nodded again, smiling now. “Yes, Sevika. You’re my wife. We got married six months ago, remember? You wore that fancy black suit you hated but looked amazing in, and we danced until your legs gave out.”

Her mouth opened, then closed, then opened again. Finally, she managed to stammer, “I… I forgot.”

“I know,” you said gently, brushing a tear from her cheek with your thumb.

“I thought… I thought I lost you to someone else,” she admitted, her voice trembling. “I thought I ruined everything.”

“You didn’t ruin anything,” you said, leaning forward to press a soft kiss to her forehead. “You’re mine, Sevika. Always have been, always will be.”

She stared at you, her expression still caught between disbelief and relief. “I’m yours,” she repeated, almost like she was testing the words.

“Yes, you big idiot,” you teased, though your tone was warm. “Now, come on. Get off the floor and open your gift.”

She let you help her to her feet, her movements sluggish but cooperative. You guided her to the table, where the neatly wrapped box sat waiting. She picked it up carefully, her large hands fumbling with the ribbon for a moment before finally tearing it open.

Inside was a new leather glove to replace the worn one she always complained about, along with a small card that read, “To my one and only—thank you for being my everything.”

She stared at the gift for a long moment before looking back at you, fresh tears welling in her eyes.

“Hey, hey,” you said quickly, stepping closer. “What’s wrong now?”

“I just…” Her voice cracked, and she wiped at her face with the back of her hand. “I love you so much, you know that? I don’t deserve you.”

“That’s nonsense,” you said firmly, wrapping your arms around her waist. “You’re everything I’ve ever wanted, Sevika. And I’m lucky to have you.”

She let out a shaky laugh, resting her forehead against yours. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“Good thing you’ll never have to find out,” you said softly, leaning up to kiss her.

Her lips were warm against yours, tasting faintly of whiskey and salt from her tears. When you pulled back, she was smiling—a real, genuine smile that made your heart swell.

“Thank you,” she murmured, holding the glove in one hand while wrapping the other around you.

“For what?”

“For loving me,” she said simply.

“Always,” you replied, resting your head against her chest. “Now, let’s get you to bed before you start crying again, okay?”

She laughed, the sound deep and rich, and for the first time that night, she looked like herself again.

“Yeah,” she said, tightening her hold on you. “Bed sounds good. But only if you come with me.”

“Always,” you repeated, smiling against her shoulder as you led her toward the bedroom.

I’d be coming up with the most randomness ideas

I want sleep

[honeydazai]

I need domestic Viktor and Jayce ( especially Jayce 😍)

₊˚⊹♡ domestic moments

feat.: Viktor, Jayce Talis

notes: A!! YES. this was so cute.. i love them....

Jayce likes to cook, and he's good at it, too — really, his mother would be disappointed if he wasn't. You can find him in your shared kitchen regularly, adding spices to your meal or flipping pancakes, humming absentmindedly to himself, and he's all too happy to let you taste-test the second you ask to. When you compliment him on his cooking, he beams.

He's clingy in the best way, constantly aching to spend time with you, even if it's just him laying his head on your lap while you read or do whatever else. He's just happy to be with you.

In the kitchen cupboards, there's varieties of pastries for the two of you to enjoy that he makes sure to keep stocked — at one point, he attempted to make the ones you two enjoyed on Progress Day, but the recipe was flawed and the bakers making the original ones were professionals, or so he defends the sad result.

Even though grocery shopping is usually but a chore that needs to be done, it doesn't feel that way when the two of you do it together, with him meticulously checking his grocery list every five minutes while you curiously check the aisles for snacks either of you would enjoy. He carries the bags back home, too; what are all his muscles for otherwise?

There's little he enjoys doing more than cuddling with you, curled up in bed, comfortable and safe. Despite his physique, he loves being the little spoon — it doesn't matter how short you may be compared to him, having your arms wrapped around him just makes him feel loved and at peace. Indulge him.

Viktor likes to read to you, his voice calm, soothing, accent warbling enticingly around the words. What by now has become a routine for slow evenings at home began in the first place because you asked him to, claiming to be able to focus better when it's him reading the text aloud. Surprisingly enough, he found himself enjoying it as well, chuckling softly at the way you gaze at him as if he hung the moon, completely entranced. It's awfully cute.

While he prefers not to cook, often reaching for a quick snack instead of wasting time on a proper meal, Viktor will gladly watch you cook. The sight leaves him with a warm feeling spreading through his chest, and he oftentimes he ends up behind you, arms around your waist and chin perched up on your shoulder, the tip of his nose against your neck.

With sweet milk in your fridge and chocolate chip cookies on your kitchen counter, you're well-equipped to spend cozy afternoons together. Since he runs cold, there's quite a few blankets piled up high on your sofa, and you're often huddled underneath them, sharing warmth. Viktor is quite fond of the idea of the two of you consuming media together, such as reading novels — though he will sulk if you ever continue without him. It's a terrible betrayal.

Even though he usually prefers to take quick showers, doing it to get clean rather than to enjoy and relax, he takes the occasional hot bath with you. With you so close to him, skin on skin, he's able to feel the tension bleed from his muscles, and there's something sweet about the vulnerability of washing each other's hair with scented shampoos.

₊˚⊹♡ my commissions are open! ♡ tag list!

tags: @my-awakened-ghost @afidiofobia @helloyellowsheeps @yuuotosaka3 @sccarymonster @satoruislove @pastelsbaby @artsyxabbyx @arboranimus @marina-and-the-memes @holysmokesblog @twilightdollie @kaaylvst @definitely-not-v @innerstrawberrypolice @misty-q @perylinsus @pleasemakeitgayer @imaginesbymk @meimayooo @doxmino @smolbeandrabbles @darknessbyme @darthkenobii-recs @mars738

@cupcakkesinflatedwetbussy @illicittete @lemzhargreeves @festivalthrash @savagemickey03 @rosepxtlz @user4837 @Nervousartisanheart @mikariell95 @mechmoucha

@silcobrainrot @Medeaa5 @nocturnal-onlooker @modernamilf @catsaiem @t0r @beyondblissxoxo @zillahvathek @brainrottingrn @klaudia7 @okura-s

@666abby6666 @ironnieincarn8 @watercolourdreams @scturne19 @ladykatakuri @lunerenzo @cowboykiri @soullessbody @thottywizard @celebrity-crushes27 @ygrworld @sevikasslvtt @chaoticevilbakugo @trashbod @MiloMalaise @berywritesstuff @alice0blog

@gooseberries88 @s1t1n0ny0url4p @black-rose-29 @notyetzaio @ibby-miyoshi-nerd @that-marvel-simp @riot-in-my-soul @one-eyed-captain-kinky @serenareiss @dilucshandholder @reiikonee @1-800-mocha @xvocadooo @nyx2021 @hexiisexii @sillytoaaad @enyoistic

[gtgbabie0]

Could I request Ambessa with a chubby reader who’s insecure about their body/weight while Ambessa is literally begging for them to sit on her face/crush her head with their thighs?

—🦌

{Sitting on Ambessa’s face}

!!-18//MDNI-!! omfg thank youu🙏 #needthaaat!!

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾

Ambessa had single-handedly fought off armies, she can swing a great sword around as if they weighed nothing— hell the golden spear she keeps on display in your shared bedroom was only half a testament to her strength and the thing was taller than two of you. Yet you still weren’t convinced she could really take you.

It was a fucking insult to her and no she really did take it personally.

“Do you not trust me?” Ambessa inquires, eyebrow cocked and eyes slightly narrowed.

“No, I do trust you I just—"

“Then, sit. on. my. face.” You couldn’t stop the giggle that bubbles past your lips, oh the great feared warrior begging for you to sit on her face?… it was a sight.

But at last, that lingering doubt was still eating away at you— even if your stomach was flooded with that familiar heat of desire and your cunt throbbed at the very thought. Ambessa could see it in your eyes, you poor thing. Her fingers wrap around your wrist, bringing your hand to settle over her toned abdomen— the naked skin warm beneath your palms.

“I don’t doubt your strength either,” you whisper, biting down on your bottom lip as you run your hand across her stomach— feeling the muscles tense under your delicate touch. “What if it’s unflattering? or too much… I’m heavy Ambessa.”

She almost guffaws in disbelief at your words, her gaze softening slightly at the sight of your eyes— so very unsure of yourself, flickering around in discomfort. Her battle-worn hands are immediately cupping your face, making you look up at her as her thumbs caress your warm cheeks.

“My heart, I’ve taken you in every possible position— trust me, there is no ‘unflattering angle’ about you,” her voice is smooth and velvety in such a way that has your shoulders relaxing, leaning into her big palms. “Your weight is not a worry for me and it shouldn’t be for you either. I need to feel you all around me… I need to drown in you.”

The reverence in her tone makes you all types of dizzy, coupled with the way her hands are mapping out the curves and dips of your luscious body— grasping at the fat on your hips and thighs to tug you impossibly closer to her and suddenly you become oh so aware of just how strong she is, she really could manhandle you— the thought makes your cunt clench around nothing, throbbing against her toned thigh.

“Sit on my face, let me ravish you… hm?” Her nose brushes along the underside of your soft jaw, feeling your pulse quicken beneath the shape of her lips— coaxing you.

you let out an unsure whine, biting the inside of your cheek before finally conceding, giving in to her soothing touch. “Mhm, y-yes… yes, if you’re so sure.” you nod, whimpering as she kisses along your neck mumbling a rough, “Good girl,” into your skin.

Excitement prickles at your skin as you watch her sink back against the crimson silk of the bedsheets and pillows— her hands harshly squeezing the curve of your ass to urge you forward, beckoning you closer with a nod of her chin. “Come my girl, make yourself comfortable.”

Your knees dig into the mattress on either side of her head, fingers grasping the headboard as Ambessa yanks you down onto her mouth, fed up with your nervous hovering. “Sit,” the command is muffed against your slick folds, sending a sharp tingle of need up your spine. It feels far too good to argue with her so you relax, trusting her strong hands and the way they hold your plush hips— fingertips digging into the fat.

“Hnng— ah! ah! Ambessa!” You whine, grinding down against her as soon as your bare cunt makes contact with her mouth, your eyes rolling backwards as the tip of her nose nudges against your clit, her tongue plunging into your needy hole. She relishes in the way you lose control, using her face for your own pleasure. Her rough hands are all over your curves, hips and waist, guiding your movements with a low moan of approval. Her eyes flicker up to you for a moment, catching the way your tits bounce with each jolt that shoots through your body every time she licks at your clit— she can’t help but snake an arm up along your body, over the pudge of your tummy, to cup one of your breasts, squeezing, as you continue to rock against her mouth.

“Mm, that’s it— that’s it,” she groans into your cunt, “Soak my face, darling, cum in mouth.”— she was slurping at you, swallowing up every single last drop your greedy pussy gave her as you gush all over her mouth, crying out her name, nails digging into the oak headboard. God she was going to do this all night, every fucking night.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾

[nomie-11]

I Miss You, I'm Sorry

masterlist! | read part 1 here!

synopsis: vi breaks you out of the prison she puts you in, but sometimes apologizes aren’t enough on their own

pairing: vi x reader

Stillwater Prison was hell. 

It was cold, dark, and lonely. No sounds penetrated the walls this deep in the prison, and no one talked to you unless they were talking to you with a stick in their hands ready to teach you a lesson. 

That’s what you thought was going to happen when the familiar sound of a pair of heavy boots hitting the hard ground of the hallway echoed down the cell block they were holding you in. You didn’t even make an effort to go to the cell bars to see who it was anymore, it would be foolish to hope for anyone but the warden at this point—you had heard echoes of an outbreak not too long ago, Jinx and Sevika had broken out half of Zaun from Stillwater, but you were too far deep into the prison for them to even try to reach you, if they had. 

You stayed slumped against the cold wall, arms draped over your knees, head resting against them as the sound of boots grew louder. It wasn't until they stopped directly in front of your cell that something about the cadence made your ears perk. Hesitant. Familiar. 

The silence lingered, heavy and tense, before a voice you thought you’d never hear again cut through it like a knife. 

“Y/n.”

Your head snapped up, heart twisting painfully in your chest. You couldn’t believe it. You wouldn’t believe it. “Vi?” 

She was standing there, gripping. The bars of your cell with knuckles so white you thought they might split. Her pink hair was longer and suddenly black, her face was harder, smeared with black makeup. She didn’t look like the Vi you knew, but she sounded like her—rough around the edges, soft in the center. 

“I came to get you out,” she said, her voice low and tight. “I’m sorry it took me this long.”

You didn’t make a motion to move, but you made a point to move your head, to catch her gaze. “Caitlyn ditch you when she realized you're still a street rat no matter how hard you pretend you aren’t?”

Vi flinched, your words hitting like a slap, but she didn’t look away. “I deserve that,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “I deserve worse.” 

You laugh bitterly, leaning your head back against the wall, the chill of the stone seeping into your skin. “You’ve got some nerve coming here. What’s the angle, Vi? Guilt finally too much for you? Or did Caitlyn send you to finally kill me?”

“I’m here because I couldn’t let this stand,” Vi snapped, the fire in her voice rekindling for just a moment before softening again. “I–I made a mistake, okay? I believed the wrong people. I thought I was doing the right thing.” 

“The right thing,” you repeated, tasting the words on your tongue as if you were testing them out in the space between you. “For who? Because it wasn’t for me. And it sure as hell wasn’t for you.” 

Vi leaned her forehead against the cold bars, her shoulders slumping as if the weight of the world was pressing down on her. “For you,” she said, her voice breaking. “I know what type of hell this place is, but I was so scared you were going to die. I thought I was protecting you. I thought… I thought if I stopped you, it’d keep you safe.” 

You laughed again, the sound sharp and hollow. “You really are delusional, Vi. You didn’t protect me. You ruined me. You put me here. You handed me over to them, and they—” Your voice cracked, and you swallowed hard, refusing to let the tears threaten to spill. “You know what they did to me here. You don’t get to come back and act like you care now.” 

Vi’s hand gripped the bars tighter, her knuckles trembling. “I never stopped caring,” she said fiercely. “I’ve been trying to fix this since the day they dragged you in here. I’m not leaving without you, Y/n.” 

You shook your head, a bitter smile twisting your lips. “And then what? What happens after you ‘fix this’? You think we can just walk out of here and pretend nothing happened? That I can forgive you?”

“No,” Vi said, her voice steady despite the pain in her eyes. “I don’t expect forgiveness. God knows I don’t deserve it. But I can’t live with myself knowing I didn’t at least try to make it right.” 

The silence that followed was suffocating. You wanted to yell, to scream, to tell her to leave and never come back—but part of you, a part you hated, wanted to believe her. Wanted to run into her arms and bury your head in the crook of her neck and inhale her familiar scent of stale alcohol from her dad’s bar and dirt. 

“Why now?” you finally asked, your voice quiet, more than fragile. “Why come for me now? Aren’t I a lost cause?”

Vi’s gaze met yours, raw and unguarded. “Because I realized I was wrong.” she said simply. “And because I never stopped loving you. I miss you, and I’m so, so sorry.” 

The words hung in the air between you, heavy with meaning and regret. You didn’t know if you could trust her again, if you even wanted to—but the ache in her voice, the crack in her tough exterior, made something inside you falter. 

“Get me out of here,” you said finally, your voice cold and unyielding. “But don’t think for a second that this changed anything.” 

Vi nodded, her jaw tightening. “Fair enough.” 

She stepped back, pulling on her gauntlets with a low hiss. They hummed to light, emitting a blue light as she placed her hands on the bars of the door and pried it off their hinges. With a creak and a groan, the metal bent and broke under her hands, and she stepped aside, tossing the door to the ground, giving you the space to leave. 

You stood slowly, your body aching from the time spent alone, waiting, and stepped out of the cell. For a moment, you stood face to face with her, the weight of everything unsaid lingering in between the two of you like a bubble you couldn’t pop and a line you couldn’t cross. 

“Let’s go,” you said, brushing past her. 

—----------------------------

You never knew that the sun shone this brightly this deep in the underground. 

In your brief memories of childhood, there was never grass, never light. It was just you and Vi in the darkness of the streets until her parents called her in for dinner and your father called you in to go to sleep. 

Now, being back here again—although ‘here’ was different—felt weird. As if everything had shifted. Vi was different, leaner than you remembered her last, her hair dyed black, her eyes a little harder. But, you supposed that comes with time. 

Leaning back on your hands, you looked up to the sky, to the sun filtering through the polluted air. The grass underneath your palms felt foreign.

“Weird to be out here in the sun, huh?” Vi said quietly, brushing her hand over a stone that had the remnants of a white marker scrawled onto it. 

You nodded, your eyes still tracing the faint clouds in the sky, the blue hazy and far from the pure shade you had imagined reaching down here when you were younger, more naive. “I never thought it would reach down here.” 

Vi remained quiet beside you, but you could feel the tension rolling off her. It was the first time in what felt like forever that you were sharing the same space without the weight of a fight looming over you. 

Her gauntlets were off somewhere under the strict ‘no weapons’ policy, and she looked smaller without them, more fragile. After a long pause, she turned toward you, her voice softer, more hesitant this time. “I know I can’t undo what I did. And I can’t take back the betrayal, or the things I said or didn’t say.” she cleared her throat, absentmindedly tracing patterns in the dirt. “But I’m sorry, Y/n. I really am.” 

You didn’t respond immediately. Her words, though a faint echo of the apology you once prayed for, still felt incomplete. The rawness in her voice, the same tremor you had heard in the prison, didn’t quite reach the part of you that had been shattered when she turned her back on you. Still, there was something there—something you hadn’t expected: sincerity. 

“I know you are,” you said finally, your voice softer than you had intended. You didn’t want to give in, not yet. But the flicker of vulnerability in her eyes tugged at something inside you. It had been years since you’d seen her this close, this unguarded. It hurt, seeing her like this, but the grip of anger was loosening, it’s hold faltering the longer you watched her in front of you the way she did all those years ago. 

Vi shifted next to you, her gaze lingering on the ground. “Do you remember how I used to protect you? Remember how I used to shove you back anytime someone picked trouble with us? I wanted to keep you so far away from all the violence that surrounded us.” She paused, as if trying to collect her thoughts. “I thought that if I kept you away from everything, that you wouldn’t have a shot to kill yourself. That you’d be safe. That I’d figure out a way for us to be safe.” 

“You thought wrong.” You didn’t say it harshly, but the words stung both of you. It was the truth, and you both knew it. 

Her face fell for a moment, even more than it already was, her eyes dimming just enough to show in the sunlight. “I know,” she murmured. “I wish I could change it, but I can’t. I can’t fix it all. All I can do now is try, but… I’ll keep trying.” 

You turned to face her, finally locking eyes. For the first time in what felt like forever, you felt something other than anger or hurt. It was a flicker—just a spark, barely a flame—but it was something. 

“I don’t know if I can forgive you,” you whispered. “Not yet.” 

Vi nodded, her eyes glassy, but she didn’t say anything more. She didn’t need to. The apology was there, and maybe this was the rebirth of something familiar, yet new. Not a clean slate, not yet, but a possibility. A chance. 

She reached over and squeezed your hand so gently it almost felt like a warm breath on a cool day, a silent promise, as if her presence here wasn’t just about getting you out of prison, but about finding a way back to each other.

“I missed you,” she murmured, her voice soft, but heavy with lingering emotions that might never fully go away. 

The world seemed to stop for a heartbeat, and you could feel the time of all the years that had passed between you two—everything unsaid, everything unhealed. 

“I miss you too,” you said, the words lingering in the present, not the past. 

If you enjoyed this one shot, please check out my other series!

[cosmiclily]

Can you write a Vi oneshot y/n is two years younger than Vi and is Jinx best friend. Vi sees y/n as a younger sister since she and Jinx have been childhood best friends while she has had a crush on Vi since she first met her. Jinx knows and teases her about it but is rooting for the reader and Vi to get together. Vi is protective of y/n especially when she sees people flirt with y/n. As they grow up y/n starts trying to move on since she believes Vi won’t ever have feelings for her but Vi does love her but never made a move because she is Jinx best friend and thinks Jinx wouldn’t approve. Vi finds out by Vander that Jinx is helping y/n get ready for her date and encourages her that she needs to confess her feelings before it’s too late and has to watch y/n be in a relationship. Vi confesses goes to y/n place and confesses her feelings and is surprised when y/n kisses her and tells her that she’s always loved her since they were kids the two sleep with together and are each others first the next day reveal their relationship and Jinx and Vander are happy for the two. Fast forward the two are married and have two kids together

BFS - My Best Friend’s Sister - Vi x F!Reader

wc: 4.6k

cw: none, i think.

notes: uhm, i got a little carried away with this one 🤡

anyway, thank you for the request, hope you enjoy! ⋆˚✿˖°

The first time I met Jinx, I had no idea my life was about to change in ways I couldn’t even imagine. We met on the very first day of high school. My first impression of her? The bright blue hair, of course—it was impossible to miss—and the fact that she was insanely smart, like should-have-skipped-high-school-and-gone-straight-to-college smart. Her intelligence wasn’t just impressive; it ended up saving my skin more times than I can count.

One of those times was during our first biology project. The teacher paired us together, and Jinx offered to work on it at her house. She mentioned that her dad wasn’t home and her sister would probably be out late because of basketball practice. It worked perfectly for me because my house was not an option.

So, off to Jinx’s house we went. She lived in this quirky, mismatched house attached to her dad’s bar. The second I stepped into her room, I knew I was in a completely different world. The walls were covered in her sketches—like, really good sketches—and there were mechanical parts scattered around from her various projects. It wasn’t messy, though; it was… creative chaos. Her room had so much personality, like every inch of it told a story about her.

We dove into the project and worked on it for hours. Time flew by so quickly I didn’t even realize how late it had gotten until her sister came home. And wow—Vi. That was her name, as I later learned. She was two years older than us and looked incredible in her basketball uniform. She had this effortless confidence about her, like she didn’t even have to try to be cool.

“Who’s this?” Vi asked Jinx, tossing her hair back casually and wiping her forehead with the bottom of her jersey. The motion gave me a quick glimpse of her abs under the loose uniform, and—wow—I definitely wasn’t prepared for that.

“Oh, this is Y/N,” Jinx said before I could even attempt to respond. “She’s in my bio class. We were working on a project, but she’s about to head out.”

I was grateful Jinx stepped in because, honestly, I felt like I’d forgotten how to speak. Vi was… hypnotizing. The way she stood there, so effortlessly cool, it made my cheeks heat up instantly. I was pretty sure I wasn’t drooling, but the tightness in my chest told me I was one awkward moment away from embarrassing myself.

“H-Hi,” I managed to mutter, giving her a tiny, shy wave. My voice cracked slightly, which only made me want to crawl under a rock.

Vi’s lips curled into a teasing smile as she crossed her arms, leaning casually against the doorframe. “Hi,” she replied, her voice warm but laced with playful sarcasm. “Nice to meet one of my sister’s friends. First one, in fact.”

“Hey!” Jinx protested, rolling her eyes. “I have friends.”

Vi raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. “Sure you do.” Then, turning back to me, she added, “You must be special. Jinx doesn’t usually invite people over. Did she bribe you with snacks or something?”

I laughed nervously, still hyper-aware of her presence. “No snacks, just… science, I guess.”

Vi chuckled, the sound low and almost musical, and it sent a weird flutter through my chest. “Well, don’t let her scare you off. She might be a pain, but she’s harmless.”

“Gee, thanks,” Jinx muttered sarcastically, tossing a pillow in Vi’s direction. Vi caught it with ease, smirking before tossing it back onto Jinx’s bed.

“Anyway,” Vi said, straightening up, “it was nice meeting you, Y/N. Don’t be a stranger, okay?”

I nodded, still feeling like I was stuck in some kind of surreal dream. “Nice meeting you too,” I mumbled, trying not to sound as flustered as I felt.

As Vi turned to leave, she glanced back over her shoulder with a playful wink, and my heart practically stopped. Once she was gone, I let out a breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding.

“So,” Jinx said, breaking the silence with a sly grin, “you’re blushing.”

“What? No, I’m not!” I protested quickly, though the heat radiating from my face told a different story.

“Oh, you so are,” she teased, leaning back in her chair and folding her arms. “Don’t worry, you’re not the first person to fall for Vi’s charm. She has that effect on people.”

“Great,” I muttered under my breath, feeling more embarrassed by the second.

──────────────────────

From that day on, I made every excuse possible to go to Jinx’s house. Studying for a test? Jinx’s house. Working on a project? Jinx’s house. Binge-watching the new show we both got into? Definitely at Jinx’s house.

And don’t get me wrong—it wasn’t just because of Vi (though Jinx would totally argue otherwise). I genuinely loved being there. Jinx’s house had this warmth to it, a chaotic but comforting energy that made me feel like I belonged. After I met Vander, Jinx’s dad, the place felt even more like a second home. Vander was the kind of guy who made everyone feel welcome. He’d always crack a joke or offer food, and he treated me like I was part of the family from the start.

But… yeah. My crush on Vi? It only got worse. I found myself lurking in hallways or hanging around the kitchen, hoping to catch even a quick glimpse of her. Every time I saw her, I tried to muster up the courage to start a conversation. The problem was, as soon as I opened my mouth, my brain seemed to short-circuit.

One morning, after a sleepover at Jinx’s, I went downstairs to grab a glass of water. I wasn’t expecting to see anyone, but there she was standing in the kitchen in sweatpants and a sports bra making breakfast.

“Good morning,” Vi said, her voice casual as she kept her eyes on the pan in front of her. “Do you want breakfast?”

For a second, I forgot how to form words. “Oh, uh—if it’s not a bother, yeah, I’d like some,” I managed to say, grabbing a glass of water and sitting at the kitchen table.

The silence between us grew heavier by the second as she scrambled eggs, and I couldn’t think of a single thing to say. My mind was blank—well, except for the part of me panicking about how awkward I probably looked. Desperate to fill the silence, I blurted out the first thing that popped into my head.

“Did you know that eggshells have, like, 17,000 pores?”

Vi froze for a moment and slowly turned to look at me, one eyebrow raised, like I’d just sprouted a second head. “Uh… no. I didn’t know that.”

“Yeah,” I said weakly, feeling my face heat up. “Fun fact, I guess.”

She gave me a small, amused smile and went back to cooking. But the damage was done—I was mortified. From that day on, I vowed to never start a conversation with Vi unless someone else was there to save me from myself.

Of course, I made the mistake of telling Jinx about the whole thing. She laughed so hard I thought she might pass out, and for the next week, she didn’t let me live it down. Every time we hung out, she’d drop random egg facts just to tease me.

“Hey, did you know an ostrich egg can support the weight of a grown man?” she’d say, smirking.

Or: “Apparently, chickens can lay blue eggs. Do you think Vi would be impressed if you told her that?”

──────────────────────

During our sophomore year, my crush on Vi only grew worse. I didn’t miss a single one of her basketball games—not one. Did I know anything about basketball? Absolutely not. I couldn’t even follow the rules half the time. But it didn’t matter. Watching her on the court, seeing her light up whenever she scored, and that radiant smile she wore when her team won—it was enough to keep me coming back.

Of course, I dragged Jinx along to every game. She didn’t care much for sports and made a point of complaining loudly about how boring it was, but I think deep down she knew why I was so invested. “You’re hopeless,” she’d say with a smirk whenever I got flustered after Vi waved at us from the court.

The best part, though, was after the games. Vi always made a point to come over and talk to us. Well, to Jinx mostly, but she’d smile at me, too, and ask me questions like, “What did you think of the game?” or “Did you see that last play?” And every time, I’d stumble through some vague answer because honestly, I’d been too busy staring at her to pay attention to the game itself.

Being around her made me so happy. Just those small moments of acknowledgment, those little smiles and casual conversations, were enough to keep my heart racing for days. But deep down, I knew the truth: Vi only saw me as Jinx’s younger friend. A little sister, at best. She’d made that painfully clear on multiple occasions.

Once, when we were all hanging out after a game, someone jokingly suggested that I had a crush on Vi. I don’t even remember who said it—maybe one of her teammates—but I remember how Vi laughed it off immediately. “Oh, Y/N? She’s like a kid sister,” she said with a grin, ruffling my hair like I was some kind of puppy.

It stung, but I tried to play it off, laughing along even as my chest tightened. I told myself it didn’t matter. Having her in my life at all, even as a friend or honorary sibling, was better than nothing. But the truth was, every time she called me “kid”, it felt like a gentle reminder of how impossible my feelings for her really were.

──────────────────────

After Vi moved to college, I knew I had to let go. The multiple reminders that she only saw me as a kid—Jinx’s best friend who told weird egg facts—played on a loop in my head. I told myself it was time to move on, to stop clinging to a fantasy that would never happen. But trying to move on was so much harder than I expected.

I started looking for pieces of her in everyone I met. Every girl I got to know, every potential crush—I couldn’t help but compare them to Vi. How a girl would act a certain way, and the first thing I’d think was, “Vi would never do that.” Or if someone treated me poorly, I’d find myself muttering, “Vi would never treat me like that.” It wasn’t fair to anyone, but it was like she’d set this impossible standard that no one else could meet.

I’d only see her during winter break when she came home for the holidays. And every time, I’d convince myself that I was over her. I’d spent months trying to push her out of my heart, convincing myself that I was ready to move on, that I’d grown out of the crush. But then she’d walk through the door, her hair tied back, that easy smile on her face, and all those carefully constructed walls I’d built would come crashing down.

The feelings would flood back, twenty times stronger than before. It was like no time had passed, like I was still the same lovesick kid who couldn’t even hold a conversation with her without blurting out the first time that came to mind.

It became a painful loop. I’d spend most of the year trying to heal, trying to forget her, only for everything to unravel the second I saw her again. Seeing her with new eyes—older, more confident, and more out of reach than ever—made it even harder. She’d tell us about college, about her team and the new people she’d met, and I’d smile and nod like I wasn’t aching inside.

Jinx, of course, noticed. She always did. “You’re still hung up on her, aren’t you?” she asked me one night, not unkindly.

I didn’t even bother denying it. “It’s not like I can help it,” I said, shrugging helplessly. “It’s just… her.”

Jinx sighed, shaking her head. “You’re gonna have to let her go someday, you know.”

“I know,” I whispered. But knowing didn’t make it any easier.

It wasn’t just a crush anymore. It was a pattern, a piece of me that I couldn’t seem to shake. No matter how hard I tried to move on, Vi had become this impossible figure in my life—someone who I loved deeply but knew I could never have. And every time she left again for college, I’d start the process all over, trying to forget her, trying to move forward, only to be thrown right back into the same cycle when she came home.

──────────────────────

Senior year was chaotic. Between applying for colleges, writing essays, and preparing for exams, Jinx and I barely had time to hang out. But at least we were both focused on our futures. Amid all the stress, though, something good did happen: a new transfer student arrived at our school in the second trimester. Her name was Ava. She was tall, athletic, and impossibly chatty.

Ava was different, she was the kind of person who could talk to anyone and make them feel at ease. It wasn’t long before the three of us were inseparable, hanging out together whenever we could. By the time we finally had a breather, it was almost Christmas, and things had shifted. Ava and I had started dating. We hadn’t officially gone out on a date yet, but with classes winding down, we finally had the chance to.

But just when things seemed to be falling into place, Vi came home for the holidays. I hadn’t seen her in months, and I’d convinced myself that I was over her, that I had moved on. But the second I walked into her house, I saw her standing there, and all those feelings I thought I’d buried rushed back like a tidal wave.

She was leaning against the doorway, effortlessly cool in a casual outfit, talking to Jinx. She laughed at something Jinx said, and the sound of her laughter hit me like a punch to the gut. I froze, just watching her, telling myself over and over that I was with Ava now, that I was past this. But seeing Vi again made it feel like I hadn’t moved on at all.

She turned and caught my eye, her smile softening as she waved. “Hey, kid,” she said, her voice light and teasing, the same as always.

I waved back, trying to mask the rush of emotions flooding through me. “Hey,” I replied with a smile, turning to Jinx for a distraction. “Are you free to help me with my outfit for my date?” I asked, pretending that everything was normal, even though my heart was doing flips.

Jinx grinned, her eyes glinting with mischief. “Date night, huh? Sure, I’ve got you covered.” She shot a playful glance at Vi before pulling me toward her room.

As I followed Jinx down the hall, I couldn’t help but notice the way Vi’s gaze lingered on me for just a moment too long. Maybe I was imagining it, but part of me wondered if she had noticed my discomfort, my attempt to shield myself from the rush of emotions that still tied me to her.

Once we were safely in Jinx’s room, I let out a breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding. “I’m fine,” I muttered, trying to convince myself as much as Jinx.

“You sure about that?” Jinx asked with a knowing smile. “I’ve seen that look before. You’re definitely not fine.”

I sighed, running a hand through my hair. “I’m just… trying to keep it together. I thought I was over her, you know? But the second I saw her again…”

“Yeah, I get it,” Jinx said softly, her voice carrying an understanding I hadn’t expected. “Listen, before you get into this relationship with Ava, I think you should talk to Vi. I know you think she’s this impossible person to reach, but you’ve liked her for so long, and you deserve to know where you stand. Give it a shot, at least. You have my blessing, you know.”

“I’ll think about it, okay?” I said, pushing the thoughts aside as I pulled a few outfits out of my bag, trying to distract myself with the decision of what to wear for my date.

The night passed in a blur, but on my way home, Jinx’s words echoed in my mind. It wasn’t fair to Ava. I was starting something with her, and yet I couldn’t shake the weight of my feelings for Vi. How could I be with someone when my heart was still stuck in the past? Maybe Jinx was right—maybe I owed it to myself, and to Ava, to talk to Vi and finally face whatever was left unsaid between us.

What did I have to lose? Next year, I’d be moving out and I’d never have to face this awkward tension again. But if I kept pretending, kept pushing my feelings aside, would I ever really be able to move on?

It was hard to ignore the familiar ache in my chest, the one that seemed to tighten every time I thought of Vi. But Jinx was right about one thing: I couldn’t keep dragging Ava into something if I wasn’t emotionally available. It wasn’t fair to her. I needed to know, once and for all, if there was something left between Vi and me.

The more I thought about it, the more I realized I was running out of time to make that choice. If I didn’t talk to Vi now, I might never get the chance. So, what was stopping me? Fear? The same fear that had held me back all these years?

──────────────────────

I texted Ava, asking if she could come over earlier than we had planned. I had made up my mind—she should be the first person I talked to. If I was going to sort through this mess of emotions, I needed to be honest with her, no matter how hard it felt. As nervous as I was, deep down, I knew that what I was doing was the right thing.

When I heard the soft knock on the door, my heart jumped into my throat. Taking a deep breath, I opened it.

“Hi,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady. Ava stood there, her tall frame filling the doorway, her face puzzled but kind. Her brown eyes searched mine, like she could sense something was off.

“Hey,” she said slowly. “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah... well, no,” I admitted, stepping aside to let her in. “Do you wanna come in so we can talk?”

Ava hesitated for a moment, then nodded, stepping inside. She followed me to the living room, where we sat across from each other on the couch. The air between us was thick with unspoken tension.

“What’s going on?” she asked, her voice soft but direct.

I swallowed hard, clasping my hands together to keep them from shaking. “Ava, you’ve been nothing but amazing. You’re funny, kind, and so easy to be around. But... I don’t think I’ve been fair to you.”

Her brows furrowed, and she tilted her head slightly. “What do you mean?”

I took a deep breath, feeling the weight of my words before they left my lips. “When we started talking, I thought I was ready. I thought I was over... someone from my past. But seeing them again recently made me realize that I’m not. And it’s not fair to you to start something when I’m still trying to sort through those feelings.”

Ava’s expression softened, but I could see the flicker of disappointment in her eyes. “So... this person, they’re the reason you’ve been hesitant with me?”

I nodded, guilt twisting in my chest. “I didn’t mean to let it get this far without telling you. I really like you, Ava, and I didn’t want to hurt you. But I need to be honest—with you and with myself. I can’t give you what you deserve if I’m still stuck on someone else.”

She was quiet for a moment, processing what I’d said. Then she let out a small, humorless laugh. “Well, at least you’re honest about it. I can’t say it doesn’t hurt, but I appreciate you telling me now instead of dragging it out.”

“I’m so sorry,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper.

“It’s okay,” she replied, though I could tell it wasn’t. “You’re doing the right thing. And for what it’s worth, I hope you figure it out—whatever it is you need to do. You deserve to be happy too.”

Her words hit me harder than I expected, and for a moment, all I could do was nod. We sat there in silence for a little while longer before Ava stood up to leave.

As I walked Ava to the door, she turned back and gave me one last hug. It was warm, yet it carried a bittersweet finality. "Take care of yourself, okay?" she whispered before stepping away.

I stood at the doorway, watching her retreat down the sidewalk, the weight of the conversation still pressing on my chest. But just as Ava disappeared around the corner, I noticed someone else walking toward me.

Vi.

Her flushed cheeks and uneven breathing told me she had been running. Her hair was slightly disheveled, and there was a look in her eyes I couldn’t quite place—somewhere between urgency and worry.

“Am I too late?” she asked, her voice breathless as she approached me.

“Too late for what?” I asked, utterly confused. What was she doing here? Why did she look so distressed?

She paused at the bottom of the steps, hands on her knees as she caught her breath. When she stood upright again, her eyes met mine, and I saw something there I hadn’t seen before. “Yesterday, after you left, I talked to Jinx and my dad...”

Her words hung in the air, unfinished, and I felt my heartbeat quicken.

“Okay... and?” I prompted, unsure where she was going with this but unable to ignore the flicker of hope rising in my chest.

Vi rubbed the back of her neck, her usual confidence faltering. “Jinx told me everything,” she admitted, her voice quieter now. “About how you’ve felt... for years.”

My stomach dropped. “She what?”

“She told me,” Vi repeated, taking a tentative step closer. “At first, I didn’t believe her. I mean, how could I? I always thought you just saw me as... Jinx’s annoying older sister.” She let out a nervous laugh. “But the more she talked, the more I realized how blind I’ve been. I guess I just didn’t want to see it.”

I was frozen, my mind spinning. “Vi, I—”

“Wait,” she interrupted, holding up a hand. “Let me finish.” She stepped onto the porch, now standing just a few feet away from me. “After I talked to Jinx, I couldn’t stop thinking about it. I talked to my dad too, and he basically told me the same thing Jinx did—that I’ve been an idiot for not noticing what was right in front of me.”

Her words hit me like a wave, and I struggled to process them. “Vi, what are you trying to say?”

She took another step closer, her expression softening. “I’m saying that I might’ve been blind before, but I’m not anymore. And if there’s even a chance that I haven’t completely screwed this up... I want to try.”

My breath caught in my throat. “Try what?”

“You and me,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “If you still feel the same way, I want to see where this goes. I know I’ve probably hurt you by being clueless all these years, and I’m sorry for that. But I don’t want to miss this chance. Not anymore.”

I stared at her, my heart racing. This was everything I had ever wanted to hear, but it felt almost too good to be true.

“Vi...” I started, my voice trembling. “You don’t have to say this just because Jinx told you. I don’t want you to feel pressured—”

“I’m not,” she cut me off firmly. “This is me, finally realizing that I’ve been pushing away something—someone—who means more to me than I ever let myself admit. So, what do you say?”

Her eyes searched mine, filled with a mix of vulnerability and hope, and for a moment, all the words I could’ve said vanished from my mind. Talking had never been my strong suit anyway, and I knew there was only one way to show her exactly how I felt.

I took a deep breath, closed the small gap between us, and kissed her.

The world seemed to freeze for a second. Her lips were soft, and the warmth of her touch was more grounding than I ever imagined it could be. For a heartbeat, I worried she might pull away, that maybe I’d misunderstood her words or her intentions. But then, she kissed me back, her hands gently resting on my waist, pulling me closer.

Every emotion I had bottled up for years seemed to pour into that kiss—every moment of longing, every glance I had stolen, every dream I thought would never come true. And now, here she was, holding me as if I’d always belonged there.

When we finally pulled apart, her forehead rested against mine, both of us catching our breath. She chuckled softly, her voice warm and teasing. “I guess that’s one way to answer.”

I smiled, still too overwhelmed to form a coherent sentence. “Words aren’t really my thing,” I admitted, my voice barely above a whisper.

“They don’t have to be,” she said, her hand brushing a strand of hair from my face. “That was pretty clear.”

──────────────────────

And that’s how I find myself today—married to the love of my life, Vi, with two beautiful daughters who are the perfect mix of chaos and joy. Sometimes, when I look at her across the dinner table or watch her playing basketball with the girls in the driveway, I can’t help but wonder how different things could have been.

If Jinx hadn’t told Vi about my feelings, would I have ever found the courage to tell her myself? Would we have gone our separate ways, lost to time and distance, living entirely different lives? Would destiny have been kind enough to let us meet again later in life? And even if it had, would the outcome have been the same?

I think about it often—how fragile our connection once seemed, teetering on the edge of a confession that might never have come. It’s a reminder of how one brave moment, one nudge in the right direction, can change everything.

Jinx, of course, loves to remind me that she’s the reason for my happiness. “You owe me big time,” she says with a grin every time the story comes up. And honestly, she’s not wrong. If it weren’t for her meddling—or as she calls it, genius matchmaking—I might not be sitting here today, surrounded by the family I never dreamed I could have.

But destiny, as unpredictable and wild as it is, seemed to have a soft spot for us. It gave me the love of my life, someone who challenges me, grounds me, and loves me unconditionally. And while the what-ifs might linger in my mind from time to time, I know one thing for sure: I wouldn’t change a single moment of our journey.

Because every twist, every hesitation, every step forward brought us here���to this messy, beautiful life we’ve built together. And I couldn’t ask for anything more.

[sunsburns]

the sweetest taboo — arcane (league of legends) !

⟢ content summary. tropes & relationship headcanons with arcane characters

⟢ characters. vi, jinx, cait, ekko, jayce, viktor

⟢ authors note. love making cute little stuff like these, thx sm for this request anon <3

vi & enemies to lovers (imagine vi joined the firelights instead of the pigs)

you wanted to see her fall so badly.

from the moment ekko introduces you to vi, there’s no denying the tension between you. whether it’s a disagreement about how to handle a situation or something personal, you're constantly at odds.

every conversation feels like a challenge, and you’re always testing each other’s limits.

in every interaction, there’s a fight—both verbal and, occasionally, physical. she doesn’t pull any punches, and neither do you.

you and vi are paired up for a high-stakes mission that requires precise planning and execution. what could possibly go wrong?

vi, not used to following orders, pushes back against your every suggestion, questioning your methods and trying to take shortcuts.

you feel your patience wearing thin as vi constantly does things her way, disregarding your carefully laid plans. every decision becomes a battleground—she insists on rushing in without thinking, while you want to take your time and survey the situation first.

by the end of the mission, you’ve somehow made it through despite the odds—frustration, arguments, and near-failures (and death). the sense of accomplishment feels sweeter because you did it together, even if it wasn’t easy.

as the two of you spend more time together, you start to see past the tough exterior that vi puts up. In rare moments, she shows a vulnerability that surprises you. maybe it's in the middle of a fight where she hesitates, or maybe it's in a quiet moment when the chaos around you both settles, and you see her exhaustion—physical and emotional.

these glimpses into her real self make you start questioning the assumptions you had about her. is she really just a hothead, or is there more beneath the surface?

after a particularly gruelling mission, you both find yourselves sitting in silence, patching up your wounds. vi’s usually the first to crack a joke or make light of the situation, but tonight, she’s quiet. you notice her rubbing the scar on her arm, and you can see the tiredness in her eyes. for the first time, the animosity between you feels a little lighter. you don’t say anything, but you sit in comfortable silence, the distance between you shrinking.

you’re both forced to work together more often, and as time goes on, you begin to realize that vi’s brashness and unpredictability balance out your nature. when you argue, it’s less about who’s right or wrong and more about learning to adapt to each other’s methods.

slowly, you start realizing that you rely on her just as much as she relies on you—she covers your blind spots, and you bring stability to her chaos.

she jumps into the fray with reckless abandon, and you follow her lead—trusting her instincts for the first time. when the dust settles and you both make it out alive, you catch her looking at you with something unspoken in her eyes. she gives a half-smile and you cannot stop thinking about it for a few weeks.

you start noticing small things. vi isn’t as quick to argue with you anymore; in fact, she starts making little sarcastic remarks and playful jabs that are different from the insults you used to exchange. the teasing becomes more frequent, but there’s an undercurrent of something more intimate now. she might nudge your shoulder when she’s pleased with something you did, or shoot you a smirk when she catches you staring at her for a little too long.

jinx & fish out of water

even though you feel out of place in zaun, jinx instinctively feels the need to protect you. seeing how uncomfortable you are in the chaos of zaun, jinx acts as a shield, drawing attention away from you when things get dangerous, whether it’s with hostile locals or threats from other groups.

jinx might not be the most traditional teacher, but she guides you through zaun's tough environment. she shows you the ropes, from how to barter with street vendors to how to defend yourself if things get physical.

your differences are stark when it comes to how you approach danger. jinx is spontaneous and unpredictable, while you are more cautious, always thinking about the potential consequences.

this sometimes leads to tension, especially when you're trying to slow jinx down from acting on a wild idea, but it also shows how you balance each other out.

jinx’s chaotic nature is overwhelming at times, but it also brings out a side of you you never knew existed. where you once clung to stability, you now find yourself caught up in jinx’s wild adventures, learning to enjoy the rush and thrill of unpredictability, even if it scares you.

despite the wild, chaotic surroundings, you and jinx share moments of unexpected intimacy. whether it’s sitting side-by-side in the dark, sharing stories about your lives before the downfall of zaun, or lying next to each other after a rough day, these moments make you realize that you’ve found something real in the madness.

jinx expresses her affection in her own unique way. sometimes it’s in the form of an impulsive kiss or an unexpected act of care, like fixing your hair or bringing you something she thinks will make you smile.

ekko & second chances

the fight that tore you apart wasn’t just words—it was emotional, raw, and devastating. maybe ekko was so focused on his mission for zaun that he pushed you aside, saying something hurtful like, “this is bigger than you and me—you wouldn’t understand.”

the words lingered, and no matter how much you wanted to stay, it felt like ekko had chosen his crusade over you.

years later, you’re mid-mission in piltover, tracking a stolen resource. you hear his voice before you see him.

his voice is a mix of shock and disbelief when he realizes it’s you. you turn, and there’s ekko—older, sharper, with an air of maturity, but his wide eyes and hesitant smile are pure nostalgia.

ekko doesn’t immediately try to explain everything—he’s smart enough to know it won’t fix things overnight. instead, he focuses on showing you he’s changed.

when your equipment breaks during a mission, he’s already fixing it before you even ask.

he shows up to help, even when you don’t want him to. when you call him out on it, he shrugs and says, “you can hate me all you want, but i’m not leaving you to handle this alone.”

during a mission in zaun, you find yourselves hiding in one of your old hangout spots—a small nook under a collapsed bridge where you used to plan wild schemes as kids. it brings back old memories, and the two of you try not to comment how you do not fit in there anymore.

he gives you a makeshift communicator as an apology.

you don’t immediately forgive him, but you start to let him back in little by little. asking him for advice on a job, checking in on the firelight base every once in a while.

he let you stay the night, showed you to your old room and everything. and then you stayed the night after that. and the night after that.

when you’re working late on a plan, ekko shows up with food, claiming he “just happened to be in the area.” you roll your eyes but let him stay.

as time passes, you notice how he listens more—how he makes a point to ask your opinion and actually consider it. he’s grown, and it shows in the small, thoughtful ways he interacts with you.

during a dangerous mission, you’re cornered, and ekko jumps in to shield you. it’s reckless, but it reminds you of the boy who always put others before himself, even at his own expense.

ekko doesn’t make a big, dramatic declaration of love. instead, it’s quiet and vulnerable, like him.

“i didn’t just miss you,” he says one night, while you’re sitting on a rooftop overlooking zaun. “i loved you. i think i always did, even when i didn’t know how to show it.”

jayce & friends to lovers

inserperable. no other word to describe it.

people constantly assume you’re already a couple because you’re rarely seen apart. jayce just laughs it off, saying, “nah, we’re just close,” while you both ignore the way your cheeks heat up.

whether it’s work, errands, or grabbing food, jayce naturally gravitates toward you, like it’s second nature to have you around.

you’ve developed little routines together without even realizing it. maybe it’s getting coffee every morning from the same spot, trading lunch when one of you forgets, or walking each other home after a long day.

you two have endless conversations about everything and nothing. jayce loves bouncing ideas off you, and he’s constantly sharing his thoughts, whether it’s about a new invention or a random observation.

“does it ever freak you out how fast hextech is evolving? like, what if we accidentally invent something terrifying?” he muses while you laugh and call him dramatic.

your friendship is filled with countless inside jokes and nicknames that no one else understands. jayce loves seeing the confused looks on people’s faces when the two of you burst out laughing over something random.

jayce likes fixing things for you, whether it’s repairing something broken or building something new just to make your life easier.

he loves surprising you with practical but meaningful gifts, like a gadget he made specifically for your needs.

jayce has moments that feel a little too intimate for “just friends.” maybe it’s the way he brushes his fingers against yours when handing you something, or how he gets distracted watching you talk about something you’re passionate about.

jayce is the kind of guy who doesn’t immediately realize he’s in love. it hits him in the middle of a mundane moment, like seeing you laugh at something, and he thinks, oh. oh no.

he starts doing things he wouldn’t normally do for just anyone, like learning how to cook a dish you love or reading up on something you’re sincere about so he can talk about it with you.

he’s big on physical affection. even as friends, he was the type to give casual hugs or drape an arm around your shoulders. in a relationship, he’s almost always touching you—holding hands, leaning into you, or brushing hair out of your face.

viktor & academic rivals

he does not fuck with you at all at first.

viktor finds your work frustratingly impressive, often critiquing your methods to hide his own admiration.

the two of you are constantly debating and trying to outdo each other, whether it’s in experiments, theories, or even harmless bets (like who can finish designing a prototype faster).

he does warm up to you eventually.

not by choice, though.

it's because heimerdinger put the two of you as lab partners for a project.

mutual respect grows slowly, as viktor starts to see your perspective and vice versa.

viktor loves having late-night brainstorming sessions with you, where the two of you drink tea (or coffee, if the stakes are high) and talk until the early hours. he secretly enjoys how your conversations stray into personal topics.

he isn't one for grand gestures but shows he cares in small ways—like leaving extra parts for your inventions or staying up to help you with research, even if he’s exhausted.

he remembers every detail you mention, no matter how trivial. if you once offhandedly said you like a certain type of snack, he’ll "coincidentally" have it in the lab.

viktor gets quietly jealous when someone else praises your work too much, though he'll never admit it. instead, he'll just throw himself deeper into his own projects to "prove" himself.

you often lose track of time when working together, forgetting meals and proper rest. while viktor is typically the culprit of this, you will sometimes pull him away, insisting on taking a break. this becomes their unspoken routine, with you caring for viktor when he pushes himself too far.

if you openly compliment him—whether it’s his work or appearance—he struggles to respond and often mutters, "it's nothing," while his ears turn red.

when you catch him staring, viktor pretends to be deep in thought about something else.

outside the lab, viktor loves quiet evenings with you, reading books or sketching ideas while the other works nearby. it's in these moments he realizes how much he treasures his presence.

oh, and don't forget that he is incredibly sassy omg. like when the two of you get heated, things get heated.

[hcneymooners]

hello, my doves. comment ‘🪽’ if you would like to be tagged in my mermaid!reader x jinx fic. sfw, very emotionally heavy.

[demigoddessqueens]

Love to see the Arcane content! Can we get some Jayce x Pregnant!Reader headcanons?

Of course! Love the series and love getting new ideas to write for it 😁

A/n - I love Jayce so much!!! 💕

Masterlist 12

Headcanons include….

Jayce can sense any changes when you start to show

Dizzy spells? Faintness? Nausea? Oh. Oh

He’s just as nervous as you when you finally reveal the big news to him, rambling on and on about what you both need to do

Needless to say, Jayce’s mother is over the moon for you both! An excitedly proud future grandma!

Attentive is putting it mildly when Jayce takes care of you and tends to every need of yours. You are not allowed to lift a finger or do anything of any type of work!

Treats, cravings, gifts? You are showered with them

Of course Viktor and Mel extend their congratulations to both of your happiness

He’s a big ole softie so he takes his sweet time in planning names, outfits, and decorating the baby’s nursery

Always gives you massages and insane cuddles when you want to rest

[drowned-captain]

The Rebound - Pitfighter! Vi x Fem! Reader - Ch. 4

A/N: RAAH THANK YOU FOR THE LOVE ON THE LAST CHAPTER IT MEANS A LOT TO ME :)) I LITERALLY WENT TO BED SMILING BECAUSE OF Y'ALL AAAH Y’ALL HAVE NO IDEA asdjkfadslfjnaei I also did a crap ton of research and watched a lot of videos on writing fight scenes, so I hope the next one is better! Also, I made this chapter a little longer because we are almost at half a dozen cupcakes in the tag list :) Enjoy!

MDNI (18+ only).

TW// Mature themes like violence, drinking, drug use, infidelity, mean/triggering thoughts, toxic codependency

Word Count: ~ 6.3k

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Despite the wonderful time you had at the bar last night, you had a restless night. You swore that you wouldn’t think about your ex when you got home. You told yourself that you would just head straight to bed. You even walked through your apartment with your eyes closed! All you wanted to do was hold on to the glee of winning some cogs and the time you spent with Vi. All you wanted was to savor the sweet, savory bliss of forgetting everything wrong with your life.

But it all just slips through the cracks between your fingers like sand. You had a wonderful time, but no one to talk about it with. Your acquaintanceship with Vi ended up reminding you of your lack of companionship in general. When you were with them, their friends became your friends. Sure you never hung out with those people without your lover, but they were still your friends, right? But the minute you cut ties with that liar, it was radio silence from all of them. None of them even bothered to check up on you.

They all forgot you as fast as you shut the door on your relationship for the final time.

‘Geez, my so-called ‘friends’ broke up with me.’ you thought. It was hard to find friends in this city in general. You could always put that jinxer fit on and pretend to care about public figures like more than half of Zaun is. You could find some people to call friends through that. You could. The issue is pretending–you’re so damn tired of pretending. You almost can’t help it; three years of a horrible relationship made you an expert at the art of it, and it was getting so damn exhausting. 

You remembered your conversation with Vi about cycles and loops and whatnot. So as much as you wanted to rot in bed until it was time to get ready to place another bet, you decided to get out of bed earlier. You probably got a total of four hours of on and off sleep, but whatever. 

When you looked at your messy bed, you had forgotten that you were using some of your ex’s shirts as pillowcases. You strip one of the pillows of a shirt and hold it in your hands. Your thumbs brush its semi-worn out fabric, and you slowly bring it to your nose. Their scent still lingers on it. There were faint shimmer stains on it (their own line of shimmer stained clothes pretty badly). You walked up to your window, pushed the curtains aside, and opened the pane. You look down onto the street and watch the tops of people’s heads moving along below. You weren’t too high up– maybe about three stories. You hold your hand out the window, clenching the shirt. You slowly uncurl each finger until you let it go, and it floats down to the ground.

A couple of people were quick to notice it. One person grabs it only to be shoved by the other person. There is a yelling match of “I saw it first!” between them. You shut the window and let their yelling fade into the background. A part of you regretted tossing that shirt. You almost wanted to pounce on those people from your window and demand that they give it back. Instead, you fought your own tears as you went about a half-assed morning routine. 

When preparing food from your half-stolen bag of semi stale fish meat, you instinctively made servings for two. Your eyes kept glancing at the extra serving on the stove as you slowly ate your (possibly radioactive) meal. At least you won’t have to cook later, right? 

You get dressed into one of your favorite outfits. You might as well get some air this afternoon so you don’t have to run all the way to the arena like you did last night. You take half of your cogs with you and stuff them into a trusty bag before slinging it over your shoulder and taking off.

You walked along the bustling streets of Zaun and looked around for something to do. You stop along a bridge, walking up to the rickety railing and overlooking part of the city. It’s been a while since you were able to stop and appreciate the beauty of this place that only Zaunites like yourself can understand. Even though Piltover quite literally casts a big shadow over Zaun, it cannot snuff out the popping colors that glow even in daylight hours. You have never personally been to Piltover (not like you want to, especially because of the current political issues and all the rising problems with enforcers), but even in the distance it was very ‘sterile’ looking. In other words, not so fun.

You suddenly feel a heavy hand on your shoulder. You nearly jump out of your skin, clutching the strap of your bag as you bounce backwards, smacking the hand that touched you. Your face was twisted in aggression, glaring at whoever thought it was a good idea to sneak up on you. 

“Didn’t mean to scare you,” a bearded man spoke. Your face relaxed a bit, recognizing him as Vi’s handler. Still, you didn’t appreciate getting spooked. Plus, you don’t know anything about this guy other than he saved you from possibly needing a cast or three. But he could be dangerous! If only you could take someone as broad as he is down like Vi can with her opponents. 

“The name’s Loris,” he holds out his hand for you to shake, “I think I saw you at that one bar a few days back. I’m one of Vi’s friends.”

You hesitate slightly before shaking his hand, “(Y/n).” You can smell alcohol on him, but he doesn’t seem wasted. He can tell that you’re still standoffish, so he turns away and leans his elbows on the rail of the bridge.

“Mind if I stand here with you for a moment? I gotta clear my head for a second before I go about my day.” He itches his beard, staring off into the distance. You stand there in silence, still suspicious. Most people who strike up a conversation in this city out of the blue probably want something, and you will not give him anything.

“I don’t own this bridge, so do what you must. I guess.” You state after a few moments of thinking.

He chuckles a bit at your tense tone before he takes another look at you, “You look like you’ve been through the grinder. It’s tough out here, isn’t it?”

You look down at yourself and frown a bit, “Gee, thanks.” So much for wearing your favorite fit.

“I meant your demeanor,” he pauses, choosing his words carefully, “You look like you’ve been dodging some of life’s punches. Metaphorically speaking, of course. Ain’t no bruises on that mug of yours. No offense, just an observation.”

“What’s it to you?” you ask defensively, crossing your arms. You’re still not sure what to make of him. 

Loris shrugged, leaning more heavily on the railing. “Nothing, really. Just... I’ve been there. Lost a lot before I got to where I am now. Figured I’d say something in case you needed to hear it.”

“Not to be rude or anything, Loris, but I don’t think I’m in the mood for unsolicited advice, or…whatever you’re trying to do here.” 

He gives you a sidelong glance, his eyebrows raising at you skeptically, "Fair enough," he says, straightening up from the railing. "Didn’t mean to step on your toes." He stretches his arms behind his head, giving a small grin. "Just figured I’d try to be neighborly, but I’ll back off."

You’re a little taken aback by how easily he relents, expecting some pushback. Instead, he fishes a cog from his pocket, idly rolling it between his fingers as he looks back out over the city. “I appreciate what you’ve done for Vi.”

You tilt your head. “She told you about me? Wait. I haven’t even done anything for her. I’ve only spoken to her, like, twice. And the first time didn’t even go so well. I don’t even know her all that much.”

“No, she has not spoken about you. But you’re the one who had her go home both times with a cup of water, right?”

“That’s… yeah. Everybody should drink water with their booze. No biggie.”

Loris pockets his cog and pushes away from the rail, the metal making a creaky noise. "Well, don’t let me keep you. Gotta grab Vi for some pregaming soon—busy night ahead."

Before he walked away, he looked at you again, his expression softer. “Take care of yourself, (Y/n). And... try not to let whatever’s chasing you catch up.”

With that, he disappeared into the crowd, leaving you to wonder how someone you barely knew could read you like that. 

*

Vi was tossing out her empty bottles outside of her apartment. She dusted her hands off and let out a somewhat satisfied sigh. She was up earlier than usual, which kind of felt nice for a change. There was another part of her, however, that gnawed at the back of her mind. Being awake and sober meant that her brain was free to juggle memories of Caitlyn around while reminding her of all the love that she lost in her life. It felt like there was a hole in her chest. How can a heart feel so heavy when there was an entire chunk missing from it?

She clenches her fists and shakes her head as if all the haunting memories and thoughts will fly off of her. If only it worked that way. It didn’t help that she dreamt of her last night. She dreamt of the life that she envisioned with Caitlyn; Waking up to her. Their hands combing through each other's hair. Seeing that adorable gap-toothed smile. Feeling her soft, perfect skin. Breathing in her scent. Walking the streets of Piltover together and basking in the sunlight.

She spun around and punched the wall behind her with an angry snarl.

“Well that was a close one.” Loris spoke, staring directly at Vi’s arm. If he were just a few inches closer, she would have probably punched him right in the chest. 

Vi lets out a heavy sigh, shaking her hand off, “Hey, Loris. Sorry, I didn’t know you were right there.”

“Water under the bridge,” he hums, turning on his heel to rest against the alley’s wall, “You’re up early.”

“Maybe I just wanted to pregame longer.” Vi straightens her jacket out, the black leather squeaking with her movement.

Loris’s eyes look past Vi, seeing a large bag with the necks of glass bottles sticking out of it. He doesn’t say anything about it. 

“Shall we get started with it, then?” he asks, pushing himself off the wall.

Vi leads the way. After a few moments she speaks up, “Make sure you tell me when you’re behind me. I could’ve accidentally hurt you.”

“Eh, s’alright. That would be the second time I’ve snuck up on someone today.”

Vi shakes her head disapprovingly. “You have to stop that. Not everybody takes kindly to that shit.”

Loris chuckles lightly, scratching the back of his neck. "Yeah, yeah, I hear you. But sometimes, it’s the only way to catch someone in their natural state, you know?" He thought about the way you looked out towards the city. The way your eyebrows were furrowed in thought. He almost laughed at how high you jumped when he spooked you even though a part of him felt kind of bad for it.

Vi side-eyes him, her mouth pulling into a line. "That’s one way to earn a black eye."

"Noted," Loris says with a smirk, raising his hands in mock surrender. "Though, between you and me, I think most people are too distracted to notice me sneaking around. The current state of Zaun has everyone clouded nowadays.”

Vi snorts softly, her hands in her jacket pockets. "You’re not wrong about that." She glances down at the cracked pavement beneath her boots. "Guess you’ve been busy keeping tabs on everyone, huh?"

"Only the important ones," Loris replies, his tone more serious now. "Speaking of, you alright, Vi? You seem… tenser than usual."

Vi slows her pace, her jaw tightening. "Just didn’t get much sleep, that’s all," she mutters, deflecting.

Loris doesn’t push, but the knowing look in his eyes says he doesn’t buy it. Instead, he switches gears. "Fair enough. Maybe the fight tonight’ll help clear your head. Nothing like knocking someone out to shake off the cobwebs, right? And if that’s not enough, there’s always a celebratory drink afterwards.”

Vi’s face softens. Her heartbeat quickens just a bit in anticipation. The image of you sitting at the bar blurred out Vi’s looping memories of Caitlyn. This time she wasn’t too fucked up to remember the conversation that she had with you the other night. She really, really hopes that you’ll be there to talk some more. 

Loris catches a brief glimpse of Vi smiling. It makes him smile.

*

The day gets late enough for you to head to the arena. It was nice not having to rush for once, so you follow the crowd without a worry. Maybe you could get a front row seat this time!

However, something catches your attention. Your ears picked up on some gossip ahead of you.

“I heard Vi is guaranteed to lose tonight,” says one voice.

“Many people were saying that yesterday, but they were wrong. Did you see that guy? There was no way she was supposed to beat him, but she did. She always wins,” responds the other.

“I’m serious! Today she will lose. The Pit’s losing money because the majority are betting on Vi. I heard that tonight the opponent will be . . .” 

You struggle to hear the conversation as more people follow the crowd, drowning that gossip with other voices. You think about it for a second. Should you not bet on Vi tonight? But that one guy says that she always manages to win. That one opponent seemed to have the biggest advantage being quick, big, and sturdy. Vi did take him down. You nod to yourself.

‘Yeah, gossip is just gossip. Vi never loses, right? That’s what everyone says.’ 

You get to the arena early enough to place a bet. You give up all the cogs you took with you and receive your ticket. When you were picking a seat, you decided to sit somewhere near the front. Hopefully you wouldn’t get queasy from seeing blood fly off of the fighters up close. 

You feel a tap on your shoulder, so you look behind you. Upon seeing Loris, your face lit up in surprise. 

“Oh! Loris, right? I guess you’d be here. Being Vi’s friend and all.”

He takes a step down, sitting next to you. You tense up a bit, not expecting him to move seats.

“Eeyup. Always here to support her.” He leans forward to rest his elbows on his knees. He looks at you. “So you are a fan of hers, huh?”

You grip your ticket tightly. "This is my second time here, so it might be too soon for me to put a label like that on myself. I will admit, though, she’s something else in the ring."

"That she is," he says, his voice tinged with pride. "Vi’s got more fight in her than anyone I’ve ever met. But," he pauses, his tone lowering slightly, "it’s not just about the wins for her."

You tilt your head, curiosity piqued. "What do you mean?"

Loris straightens up, offering a small shrug. "Just saying, it’s not always about the glory. Sometimes, it’s about proving something to yourself. You know what I mean?"

‘Prove what exactly?’ you think, ‘If she’s going through her own grief, then is there more to punching someone’s lights out as a coping mechanism?’

You shift in your seat, recalling the gossip you overheard earlier, "Do you think she’ll win tonight?"

Loris looks at you for a moment before responding, his gaze steady, "She’s got the fire in herself to win. But I suppose anything can happen."

You nod slowly, the weight of his words settling in. As the crowd grows louder and the arena begins to fill, you can’t help but feel a mix of excitement and unease. Tonight's fight feels different somehow, and you wonder if Loris senses it too.

The stadium lights shut off, then the arena spotlights beam onto the pit. The crowd howls with excitement. You and Loris stay seated and quiet. Your leg bounces as you sit, feeling your clothing become a bit warm from the nerves. When the referee called out Vi’s name, you and Loris clapped. 

Then you see her. She steps into the ring, arm raised into the air as nearly the entire audience cheers for her. Her steps are just a bit unstable– perhaps she’s been drinking beforehand. You slow your clapping upon seeing the opponent enter the ring. Then another opponent. 

“Tonight is going to be a little bit different,” the referee says through the speakers, “Frontrunner Vi here has been tearing shit up for the past few months.”

The crowd hollers in agreement.

“Now, Vi is no stranger to fighting two people at once,” he laughs into the mic, “Does everyone think our champion has what it takes?”

The crowd screams louder. You want to cover your ears even though you agree with them all. However, you can feel your palms dampen at the thought of Vi having to fight two people. But if everyone seemed confident in her, and if she’s done it before, then she should be fine. 

The bell rings, and the two opponents waste no time closing in on Vi. One is a tall and lean woman, with quick movements that scream agility, while the other is a hulking brute, slower but with arms as thick as Loris’ neck. Vi, her posture loose but ready, cracks her knuckles as a determined look crosses her face.

The agile one darts in first, aiming a sharp jab at her ribs. Vi sidesteps effortlessly, grabbing her arm and twisting it, using the momentum to slam her into the brute. The crowd roars as the two stumble apart, clearly thrown off by her opening move. 

The brute growls, charging at her like a bear. Vi plants her feet, waiting until the last second before pivoting out of his path. She drives her elbow into his side as he barrels past, a sickening thud echoing through the arena. The brute grunts in pain but doesn’t go down, swinging a massive fist toward her head.

Vi barely manages to dodge it, feeling the end of his knuckle brush against her ear. The movement leaves her exposed to the agile one, who’s already recovered. She lands a quick kick to Vi’s thigh, causing her to fall. Vi quickly rolls out of the way when the brute slams his fists onto the ground. She springs to her feet, but is kicked down again by the slimmer one. The brute takes the opportunity to grab Vi, lifting her and squeezing the air out of her.

Vi swings her head back, making contact with his nose. He loosens his grip, and she drops to the ground, spinning to deliver a knee to his gut. Vi clutches her stomach, attempting to catch her breath. The agile one circles Vi as the brute covers his nose, staggering backwards. He shakes blood off of his hand, snarling in anger.

Vi’s eyes flick between them, calculating. When the agile one lunges, she ducks under his swing, grabbing his arm and spinning him around. Using her momentum, Vi launches her into the brute, the two of them crashing to the ground in a heap.

Vi, victorious, raises her fists high as the crowd chants her name.

In the crowd, you excitedly cheer for her. You look at Loris, whose face drops in horror. You quickly look back into the ring.

The two opponents are standing back up, throwing empty glass vials at the walls of the pit as they wipe their mouths. From where you were sitting, you can see a familiar substance dripping from their lips. Shimmer. 

Vi looks back at her opponents, quickly putting her fists into a fighting position. You can see her face from where you sit. Her body language says ‘come at me’, but her eyes are laced with fear. Like she’s remembering something. Like she has seen something like this before.

The look of Vi’s opponents was enough to scare sobriety back into her. She feels like she’s fifteen again. She’s seeing flashbacks. Tears well up in her eyes.

As Vi is frozen in her stance the brute rushes in again, landing a right hook before slamming a heavy blow into her ribs. She gasps, doubling over, and the agile one takes the opportunity to sweep her legs out from under her.

Vi hits the ground hard, the breath knocked out of her once more. The crowd falls into a stunned silence as she struggles to get up, her arms trembling under her weight.

“Get up, Vi!” someone shouts from the audience, their voice nearly drowned out by the growing murmur of uncertainty. You look to whoever shouted; their voice was close enough to you. You caught a glimpse of the cloaked figure from yesterday. You turn back to the fight quickly. 

The brute grabs her by the arm, hauling her to her feet. She swings wildly, desperation in her eyes, but he blocks her punch easily. The agile fighter moves in, landing a brutal uppercut that snaps her head back. Blood gushes from Vi’s nose as she struggles to find her footing.

The brute’s fist comes crashing down, and this time, she doesn’t get up.

The bell dings, signaling the end of the fight. The crowd erupts, but not in cheers—there’s a mix of shock, anger, and disbelief. If there was any cheering, they were concealed by angry yelling.

You sit frozen in your seat, your heart sinking as Vi lies on the ground. Loris stands abruptly, his face a mask of worry. “I need to check on her,” he mutters, darting toward the ring. You stand up from your seat, peering over the pit. Vi’s eyes are barely open, her breathing heavy.

You watch helplessly, gripping your ticket so tightly it crumples in your hand. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. Vi was supposed to win. She always won.

But tonight, the champion had fallen.

*

The ringing in Vi’s ears was almost enough to drive her insane, but she was too out of it to express her discomfort. Her vision was blurry and coming in and out. She could barely hear any talking, if there was anyone speaking. She felt her body moving, some pressure on her sore belly as the ground beneath her got further away from her vision. 

Her eyes fluttered open, trying to process what was happening. She is lowered to the ground, propped against a wall.

“Vander?” she mumbled out, her eyes trying to focus on her rescuer. Her head lols to the side, eyes shutting. Loris gently pats the side of her face, making her open her eyes again.

“You with me, Vi?” he asks. Vi grumbles, then winces as she puts a hand to her face.

“That’s it, come on. You’re okay,” Loris sighs.

Vi groans in pain, holding her sides now, “What the fuck happened?” she squeaks out, “Where are we?”

“Don’t worry about it,” he answers, “Just breathe. We’re near the locker rooms, but don’t worry. No one’s gonna hurt you here.”

“Those fuckers. They cheated, didn’t they?” she hisses, picking dried blood off of her upper lip.

“Don’t worry about it.” Loris repeats himself. Vi angrily tries to stand up, but Loris forces her to sit back down, “Damn it, Vi. Won’t you stay put?”

“I want a rematch. I was too tipsy, my head wasn’t in the game,” she demands. 

“You can ask for a rematch later. You have to rest right now, Vi.”

*

You curse to yourself, now owing The Pit money. At least you didn’t bet all your cogs; there were still some at your apartment. You wish you bet half of the half that you brought with you. The people around you were reasonably upset. In fact, you would be upset too if you had zero connection with Vi.

Despite barely knowing a thing about her, maybe it’s the fact that you had a full-on conversation with her yesterday that made your worry for her quickly eclipse your disappointment about the bet. Maybe it’s the fact that both of you have established a connection over having suffered the same kind of emotional pain. Maybe it’s the fact that she looked so hopeful to see you again. Maybe it’s the fact that she seemed genuinely interested in becoming your friend. Maybe it’s the fact that you want to be her friend. 

You fan your face with your hands, anxiety creeping up on you. You search the crowd for Loris, but can’t find him anywhere. You choose a random direction to walk in and stick to it. After a few moments of walking, you find yourself at the entrance of the ring. Hoping that Vi and Loris were around there somewhere, you cautiously enter the dark hall.

“Loris?” you whisper-shout. “Vi?” But there is no response.

You can see the ring ahead. You linger at the arch, looking around to the best of your ability to make sure that no one is around. You step into the light, looking up at all the empty seats in the arena. You don’t understand how Vi can do something so scary like this. A bunch of people screaming at you and having the weight of the title of ‘champion’ on your shoulders was enough to make you lightheaded. 

You look at the floor, seeing old bloodstains on the concrete. You wonder how much of Vi’s blood is forever merged with the floor beneath you. You wonder how many peoples’ blood are also a part of this pit. Your shoe crunches on some glass, stopping your thoughts. 

You crouch down a bit, seeing some dried purple shimmer stains among the pieces of glass. There was one vial up ahead that wasn’t completely shattered, so you reach over to it and pick it up. Your fingers trace over the intact part of the vial, turning it in your hand. But then you squint your eyes when you feel an embossment on the glass. You bring it close to your face, then immediately drop it. You stand up and back away from the scene, feeling the hairs on the back of your neck stand up because you recognized the embossment as your ex’s signature. 

You run out of the arena. You wouldn’t put it past The Pit to use shady tactics for monetary gain, but out of all shimmer dealers it HAD to be theirs. You duck into an alleyway, looking at your fingers. There were tiny glowing droplets of shimmer on them, and you frantically wiped your hands off on the wall. 

As you steady your breathing, you sink to the floor and hug your knees to your chest. Your mind wanders to all the times your ex would come home with heaps of cogs from selling their special formula. They would use their own supply sometimes just for the heck of it, and it would scare you. Luckily they never forced you to try it, but they would offer it to you constantly. You would never touch that stuff. Once, they got mad at you for refusing to help them sell it. Having an involvement in ruining people’s lives messed with your moral compass. You exclaim in frustration and bury your face in your hands, getting upset at yourself for even considering selling shimmer before you placed your first bet. 

You pick your head back up, wondering if Vi was okay. Where could Loris have taken her?

Standing up, you walk around cautiously. There weren’t many people around. Most of them were hanging out in corners. Your nose burns with the smell of smoke and shimmer as gravel crunches beneath your shoes. Some people held out their hands for a spare cog, but you ignored them. Not like you had any on yourself at this time. 

Eventually, you see the back of a familiar figure up ahead. You quicken your pace, “Loris!” 

He turns around and slows his pace, letting you catch up. When you reach his side, he has Vi in his arms. Her face is wrinkled into a grimace.

“Vi!” You gasp out, putting a hand to your mouth upon seeing all the blood and bruises on her body. Her eyes slowly open, finding you.

“Well, this is embarrassing,” she croaks out, trying to find it in herself to laugh. “You saw my ass get handed to me. Now I’m being carried like a fucking baby.”

“Stop it,” you say almost in a scolding tone, “How do you feel? Are you alright? Could I get you something?” You bombard her with questions. 

Your concern makes her scoff, a smile creeping onto her face. “I could really use a drink right now, (Y/n). That would make me feel a whole lot better.”

“I’ll get you one, just… hold on, okay?” You dig through your bag, struggling to see anything from how dark it is. 

“Sweet as a cupcake,” Vi mumbles, closing her eyes, “Sweet things are hard to come by in Zaun, ya know.”

You give her a quizzical look, not like she can see your confusion. 

“She’s concussed.” Loris explains. That explains it, you guess.

You find some spare napkins at the bottom of your bag, clutching them in your hands. You look around as you walk, spotting a shortcut to the bar strip through an alleyway.

“I’m sorry, cupcake,” Vi whines, her face scrunching up in a mixture of grief and pain, “I could’ve been better.”

Now you were very confused, but she was probably talking about her performance in the ring. 

“It’s a straight walk to Vi’s apartment. Go get her a drink. I won’t be too far when you’re done.” Loris motions to that alleyway with his head. You nod at him, taking a light jog to the shortcut. 

The strip was not nearly as lively as it was. The people who were standing around were moping about losing their bets, therefore having to reason to celebrate. You were let into the bar without a problem, and it sure as hell was a lot emptier than usual. You have never seen such unenthusiastic dancing in your life. 

No one was really talking at the bar either. 

You rush over towards the bartender.

“Ah, the water girl.” He greets as he polishes some glasses. 

“Just one water please,” you drum your fingers on the counter in anticipation. It only takes him a few moments to grab you a plastic cup with stale water in it.

“I heard Vi lost tonight’s fight. I guess I won’t be making much today.” He sighs as he hands it over to you.

“None of us made anything today, so welcome to the club…” mutters a random customer.

You hightail it out of there, not caring enough about engaging in conversation with the bartender or other customers. You walk quickly, trying not to slosh the water around too much and spill any. 

You quickly find Loris and Vi again. You dampen the napkins from your bag in the water and lightly dab Vi’s nose to clean her up. She hisses in pain, nearly swatting your hand away.

“Let me get the blood off of you.” You say firmly. Vi’s eyes open, and she tries to pick her head up. You lightly press her forehead down so she is fully resting on Loris’ forearm. “Down.”

“Let me walk. I want to walk,” she grumbles, wiggling out of her lying position. Loris gently sets her on her feet. Vi stumbles as her feet hit the ground, her legs barely holding her up. “See? I’m fine,” she mumbles, though her knees wobble dangerously. Loris steadies her with one arm, but you’re already stepping closer, the cup of water trembling slightly in your hands.

“You’re not fine, Vi. Just let me—” you start, but her sharp glare cuts you off.

“Don’t baby me,” she snaps, though her voice cracks halfway through. “I’ve had worse nights.” She leans heavily on Loris, her bravado faltering as her breaths come shallow and uneven.

The street feels suffocating now, the smell of smoke and sweat clinging to the damp air. Somewhere in the distance, a bottle shatters, followed by muffled shouting. You glance nervously over your shoulder, half-expecting to see shadows closing in.

“You don’t have to prove anything,” you say softly, trying to meet Vi’s gaze. “No one’s judging you for losing.”

She laughs bitterly, rasping like sandpaper, “You think they’re not judging? This city eats the weak alive. If you lose, you’re nothing.”

You try not to take her sudden snappiness to heart, but her icy glare was enough to make you look away in submission. Her ego was probably more bruised than her body was. Nonetheless, her words hit harder than they should, dredging up memories you’ve tried to bury.

“They cheated, Vi. It shouldn’t—” Loris was also cut off.

“I don’t fucking care, Loris!” she snaps.

“Vi,” you say, your voice gentle, “you’re not nothing.”

She looks at you then, her eyes glassy but piercing. For a moment, it’s as if she sees right through you, past your carefully constructed walls. “You don’t know a damn thing about me,” she murmurs, her voice softer now but no less sharp.

You step back, stung, but Loris steps in. “Enough, Vi,” he says firmly, “You’re concussed, confused, and bleeding. Save the tough act for later.”

You walk with them, trailing slightly behind. Eventually, the three of you climb up a small flight of stairs up to a shady-looking building. There is a rickety staircase attached to the right of it, so you and Loris carefully bring Vi over to it. She shrugs both of you off, putting a foot on one of the stairs and supporting herself with the railing.

“Did you get me a drink?” she asks, looking back at you. You quietly hand her the water cup. You brace yourself, expecting her to throw it at you. Instead, she takes it upstairs with her.

You relax, watching her leave. You exchange a glance with Loris, who rubs the back of his neck, looking equally drained. The faint creak of the rickety staircase echoes above, each step sounding like it might give way beneath her.

"Don’t take it to heart, (Y/n). There’s plenty of venom in her words, but she means no harm. She’s not in the right state of mind either," Loris mutters, breaking the silence.

“Has she ever been in the right state of mind?” Your voice is laced with bitterness.

“You know,” Loris surmised, “She really did look forward to seeing you tonight.” He ignored your question.

“Did she tell you that?” you scoff, skepticism in your tone.

“Not exactly, but last night she was probably the happiest I’ve ever seen. She kept looking to the sky today like she was waiting for time to pass,” he looks down at you, a smile on his face, “You seem like you’d be a great friend for her. Like I said, I appreciate what you’ve done for Vi. And I am thanking you for what you’ve done for her today.”

You exhale through your nose, unsure if Loris was just telling you that to make you feel better. 

For a moment, the two of you stand there, listening to the sounds of the city creep back into focus. The buzz of lights, the low hum of voices muffled by brick walls. It’s almost peaceful if you ignore the sour stench of garbage and the flickering street lights overhead.

“You gonna hang around?” Loris asks, his tone neutral.

You hesitate, glancing back at the staircase Vi just climbed. There’s a part of you that wants to follow her, to make sure she doesn’t collapse in that dingy apartment. But another part of you—the part that remembers the weight of Vi’s concussed words—deems it inappropriate for you to intrude in her personal space. You were reminded that the two of you were far from that level.

“Nah, I think she wants space.” 

“Alright then. Don’t worry too much about her, (Y/n), I’ll see how Vi’s holding up tomorrow.”

You nod at him, “Take care, Loris.”

As you turn to leave, you can’t shake the feeling that Vi’s words will stick with you long after tonight. ‘You don’t know a damn thing about me.’ She was right—but the question gnaws at you: Do you want to? And if you do, will you end up losing yourself in the process? Did yesterday's conversation mean nothing to her? Because for a moment, it meant a lot to you. 

The thoughts linger, heavy and suffocating, as you walk away into the neon haze of the city night.

End of Ch. 4

Ch. 1 Ch. 2 Ch.3

Ch. 5 (IN PROGRESS)

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

Taglist Cupcakes: @ren-ren23 @captain-crabbo @baylegend6 @winchestergirlspn @charcoal-heart

[girlwithadragonheart]

3 ~ King of Wands, Upright

Vi Et Animo (With Heart and Soul)

Vander x Fem!Reader

Summary: Do your legs ever get tired running from your past?

Word Count: 2.7k

Warnings: Heavy allusions to SA!!!(Nightmare). Descriptions of blood, a fight, hurt/comfort-ish, Powder is my little angel baby

A/N: Haha *hits the whip*

Part 2 Masterlist Part 4(wip)

Your heart pounded as you sprinted through narrow corridors, barely understanding the layout of your surroundings as you ran. It didn’t matter. He was right behind you, and all you had to do was get away. Was there an exit? You couldn’t tell. Everything was so bloody dark, and you could barely feel your feet slapping against the pavement. 

Dark streets, quiet alleys, low lamp lights. Quick, heavy breaths as you fought for control you could never have. 

Bruises on your wrists. Your hips. Your thighs…

No, please don’t go there. Not again.

It didn’t matter how hard you fought. It never did.

Your fists landed weakly against his chest. He didn’t even flinch as your skirts were hoisted up. Your face scraped the brick of a nearby building as he pushed your front half down.

The clink of a belt buckle. A bruising grip.

You looked at the diamond set in gold on your finger, thinking how the light refracted reminded you of the stars. Your beloved constellations. You floated through the night sky, the shining light of the stars tickling your fingers as you passed them by.

A sharp pain pulled you down out of your precious sky, plunging you into dark waters. All noise was muffled, and if you didn’t move, you almost felt you were floating. Peacefully suspended beneath the tumultuous sea.

Too bad it was time to come up for air.

You gasped and sputtered. Your skin felt sticky and warm. A faint metallic taste rested on your lips as you spat, copper filling your mouth. 

When you opened your eyes, you drowned in the sea of blood.

—------------------------

Your heart raced as you sat up quickly, hand clutching your chest. Your gaze darted around the now-familiar room, tucked away in a dark corner of the bar. The couch was soft and plush beneath you. A blanket covered your form that you didn’t remember having.

You had given Vander his bed back after that first night, opting for this spot. The four of you had settled into a somewhat cozy routine, eating breakfast together at the bar before setting up for opening. You felt a bit out of it, just going through the motions without giving them much thought. Thank the gods for a routine, right?

You heard a snide comment under Vi’s breath as you pulled chairs down off of tables. “Bet she’s never lifted anything heavier than a teacup.”

The comment registered too late for you to respond.

Vi scoffed, leading Powder out of the bar with a hand on her upper back. Vander glanced at the two of them, “Don’t do anything stupid!” He called after them.

“You know we will!” Vi yelled over her shoulder.

He shook his head fondly as he wiped down the bar. “Headstrong, that one. Takes after her mother.”

You look over at him curiously, doing your best to be engaged. He had never spoken of the girls’ mother, and while Powder called him “dad”, Vi called him Vander, so you assumed he had taken them in. That didn’t make them any less his girls, though.

“Who was she?” You asked carefully.

Vander looked up at you and sighed heavily. “Felicia,” he started. “She worked in the mines with me and my brother. She was fiercely protective and loyal, and she always gave her all, no matter the circumstance,” he told you. “She died with her husband, Connel, when we led the uprising.” A forlorn expression rested on his face as he finished, and your heart clenched for him.

“What about your brother?” You asked, almost afraid of the answer. Still, it was easier to ask questions than to answer them yourself. You’d divert the attention away from yourself as long as it took for you to be safe.

“Our opinions on how to achieve peace diverged once Felicia wasn’t there to keep us on track. He wanted to fight violence with violence and get revenge on Topside for what they’ve done to us. Showing them that we’re exactly what they think we are. No offense,” he added quickly.

“None taken. I’m one of you now, remember?” You flashed a wry grin of pearly whites, and he couldn’t help but chuckle, shaking his head.

“Anyway. We got into it pretty bad, and I…” he looked down at his hands. “I almost killed him,” he admitted quietly, the sound almost getting choked in his throat. “That’s when I hung my gauntlets up.”

You moved over to the bar, taking one of his hands, having to cradle it between both of yours. You traced over the lines softly, humming. “Interesting…” His hand was covered in little faded scars, some rougher and some newer than others. There were calluses that looked to be fading slowly with time. This was easy for you. Familiar and comforting.

“What?” He questioned.

“Your heart line is all broken up,” you told him, rubbing your thumb over the crease in his palm. “You’ve suffered a lot, and there’s more to suffer, but you’re strong and won’t let it break you.” You spoke softly, glancing up at him. “And you see how it ends here?” Your finger traces it from his pinky to his ring finger. “You fall in love easily. And the curve shows you’ve got a good handle on expressing your emotions.”

You felt his eyes on you, studying you intently. “You can see all of that in a line?” He questioned.

You shrugged. “One of my many talents.” You ran your fingers over his palm, pointing out all the lines on his hand. “This is your heart line, obviously” you explained, your thumb running over the one you just read. “This is your head line,” your finger dragged over the line across the middle of his palm. “This is your life line.” Again over the line curved around his thumb. “And this…” You take his hand, gently molding it to show the line running down the center, “is your fate line. Not everyone has this one. They all show different things.”

Vander watched you carefully, and you almost missed the slight tremble of his hand. Someone banged on the door, and you pulled away quickly. “Another time, Peach,” he told you with a small smile. “Flip the lights?” He asked, and you nodded, moving to unlock the door and turning the signs on.

The man who had been waiting strutted in, with a smile, moving to the bar. “What does a guy gotta do to get a drink around here?”

“Benzo, my man!” Vander yelled, pulling out the tumbler and making him a drink.

“I’d heard you were taking in more strays, Vander,” he said, looking over at you with an appraising gaze.

“You’re one to talk you old bastard,” Vander playfully punched his arm, setting the drink heavily in front of him.

“Yeah, yeah. Who’s the lass?” He asked.

“You hear about the Piltie stuck on our streets?” Vander wondered, eyes darting over to you and you averted your gaze, moving to don your apron for the day.

“No shit,” Benzo said, glancing over at you again as you picked up your tray. “Suppose it explains why the Lanes have been up in arms about this place lately,” he observed. “You’re a little attention magnet, girl.”

“Must be my dashing good looks,” you grinned with a wink, and you swore the man almost cracked an unwilling smile.

“Only when that ego ain’t blocking ‘em.”

Vander watched the exchange with amusement. “See, she’s fitting in right well already.” He rubbed a hand over the scruff of his beard thoughtfully. Benzo grumbled into his mug, and Vander just grinned. 

“Besides, I’m stuck here like the rest of you, might as well get used to seeing me, sweetheart,” you pulled a wry grin, leaning on the bar. 

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

The day was slow. Agonizingly so. You needed the rush of the job, the distraction. If you weren’t serving someone, you were cleaning tables or sweeping the floor. If Vander noticed your distraction, he didn’t comment on it. 

You were grateful when he asked you to go and check the stock downstairs. It offered something for you to really think about. Unfortunately, you were remarkably quick and finished before you really started. 

You reported back to Vander, moving to clear off a couple tables that patrons had left before moving to wash mugs.

“You alright, lass? You seem… distracted,” Vander asked you quietly over his shoulder.

You blinked, looking over at him before answering after a beat of silence that stretched just a bit too long. “Yeah. Just a lot on my mind is all. Don’t worry about it,” you gave him your best reassuring smile before turning back to your dishes and finishing up the washing.

The crowd picked up as the night went on, and you found yourself with more orders than you could count on your hand that wasn’t carrying drinks. You had started to learn some of the regulars’ names over the past week that you’d been working. You offered them welcoming smiles as you brought their usual drinks.

You didn’t even notice the girls had come back until one of the patrons started yelling—drunk and belligerent. He had Powder’s wrist in an iron-clad grip, and she was visibly shaking, wide blue eyes filled with unshed tears. The front of the man’s shirt and his pants were soaked. A spilled drink.

“Look what you did, you fucking brat!” He swore, getting down into her face.

“I didn’t mean to, I- I’m sorry!” Powder struggled.

You were moving before you even knew it. Your hand clamped down around the man’s wrist, anger hot in your chest. “Let her go,” You demanded, voice calm despite the raging storm within.

You stared at him, unblinking. He looked up at you, ready to throw another curse or insult or perhaps strike you, but whatever he saw in his eyes made him think twice. 

He scoffed. “Tch. Not worth the effort.” He released Powder from his grasp, and she went running downstairs. “Clean up this fucking mess.” He ordered you.

“I’m sure you’re capable enough to clean up your drink from your clothes,” you spat, already walking away from him. When you looked at Vander, he was fuming, rolling his sleeves up past his elbows. 

You discarded your apron, tossing it on the bar before quickly descending the basement stairs. When you got down there, you saw Powder curled up in a corner, rocking back and forth as she cried, her knees pulled to her chest. 

Your heart clenched, your anger practically dissipating as you took in her state. You made sure your steps were audible as you walked over and sat on one of the couches across from her. 

She held herself tighter as you approached, and you sighed, noticing her sniffles quiet, forever trying to be strong like her sister. However, holding in your feelings didn’t make you stronger, it only made you volatile.

“C’mere, love,” you said softly, your voice gentle and beckoning.

She practically darted into your embrace, curled up on your lap as she clutched at your clothes desperately. Your arms encircled her easily, gently rubbing her back as she cried. Your other hand carded through her hair, gently working out any knots. 

“That was scary, yeah?” You asked gently. “Breathe for me, okay? In… Out… In… Out…” You breathed deeply, letting her rise with your chest. You felt her trying to match your breathing. “There you go. It’s alright. No bastard will ever get away with putting their hands on you while your dad and I are around. I know the Lanes aren’t safe, but just remember if they knock you down, you get back up again, okay?”

“Okay,” she said quietly, yet determined.

You heard a crash from upstairs, and you gently cover Powder’s ear that isn’t pressed against your chest. You would shield her from the violence; While you could. You hummed softly; the tune your mother used to sing for you. It helped you sometimes to feel small and warm in her embrace. Before the world got dark and scary. 

“Don’t touch my daughter!” Vander bellowed upstairs. More than a small part of you was glad he was giving that man what he deserved. And another, bigger part of you felt warm at his protectiveness. You ignored both of them, focusing solely on Powder.

You sat with her, playing with her hair and humming until she was fast asleep against your chest. Something in you warmed that she felt safe enough with you to let her guard down, despite the hardships she had faced. Losing both parents… You didn’t even want to think about how awful that must’ve been for her.

Protective, innovative, inspiring, magnetic.

The King of Wands card symbolizes a natural born leader. Someone who knows what they want and knows what to do to get it. The King is often seen as a light in the darkness to those who need it, and provides protection for those who cannot protect themselves.

Eventually, the chatter from upstairs died down, and you heard the telltale cut of electricity from up top. You never realized how much noise it made until it was gone. Vander’s heavy steps sounded on the stairs. He saw you gently laying Powder down on the couch and pulling a blanket over her.

Your hand passed gently over her hair with a small smile on your face. You turned to look at Vander, eyes going wide as you saw the blood dripping from his nose. You sighed, shaking your head as you headed past him and back upstairs to give him a minute with his little girl.

When he came back up, you had already gotten the First Aid kit out on the bar and raised a brow, looking at the bar stool closest to you. Vander moved to the bar stool with a sigh, but you swore there was the hint of a smile on his face.

“I hope you at least gave that bastard what he deserved,” you said as you poured disinfectant on a soft towel, stepping between his legs to carefully pat the split skin on his brow.

“My customers know my rules. Sometimes they just need reminding,” he huffed, wincing a bit as the alcohol set into his wounds.

“Just… be careful,” you said softly. 

He pinched your hip lightly, “You’re not worried about me now, are you Princess?”

You scoffed, rolling your eyes. “Because that would be entirely out of character, would it?”

He shrugged, “Can’t say I know your character well beneath all the grime I found you in.”

You swatted his chest, and he chuckled. “Cheeky,” you said. “I just would hate to have your job if something happened to you.”

“You would manage,” he told you.

You huffed a humorless laugh. “I hardly know half the drinks you mix.” You felt his hand rest on your hip, almost covering the entire surface with his warmth. An almost comfortable silence fell between you as you cleaned his bloodied nose, cradling his jaw with your other hand. “Let me see your hands,” you told him.

He sighed, bringing them between you for your inspection. A couple of split knuckles, but you knew the majority of the blood on his fists wasn’t his. You cleaned them up silently, gently passing your thumb over each after you absolved it of his violence.

“You took care of Powder,” he said quietly, as though afraid to break the fragile silence between you.

“She needed it,” you replied just as softly.

He studied you carefully. “It was the most alert I’ve seen you today.” He didn’t say what he was thinking. What you both knew. Not everyone would’ve done the same.

You sucked in a breath, avoiding his gaze as you started packing up the first aid kit. “I’m sorry, I’ve been distracted.”

He was silent for a moment. “What’s going on in that head of yours, Princess?” He asked gently. It was an opportunity to be listened to. To be heard. 

You worried your bottom lip between your teeth. “Just a bad dream. It’ll pass,” you told him, putting the kit away. “I need some sleep. Good night, Vander.”

“Good night, Peach,” he said as you retreated back into your corner of the bar. You were restless as you tried to sleep, wrapping up tight in your borrowed blanket.

A/N: Dude I locked tf in and wrote almost this whole thing in one night after writing a couple paragraphs the whole week.

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