#desperate attempt at inner peace | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

mo0nfairy · 2 months ago

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ᥫ᭡ . # ۫ , ⸺ BLOMSTERTID, PART THREE !

summary :: Centuries-old mage, Y/N L/N, possesses magical abilities unheard of. A few citizens monopolize the remnants of magic they find, of which they now title “Hextech”. Hearsay of this power bleeds through all of Runeterra, until Piltover and Zaun find themselves in an anarchic war to obtain said power. Before Y/N can even blink, however, the humans neglect their plans when they realize they’d rather have Y/N instead.

chapters :: the masterlist.

word count :: 8.3k

content warnings :: NO SPOILERS! yandere!jinx, obsessive!jinx, yandere!viktor, g/n reader, kidnapping, blood/violence, death, nonconsensual affection, & displays of schizophrenia.

jinx's yandere traits are . . .

jealous, smothering, & territorial

⋆ ｡ ˚ ⋆ ⸺ When the moon rises and the vibrant world eases, Jinx always finds herself dreaming of the same thing.

She imagines herself sauntering through the world with bare feet; to exist with no inner turmoil wreaking havoc on her happiness. It is an embarrassing, pathetic fantasy, as her life has tested her strength and vitality time after time again. Yet alas, her heart will always ensnare itself around the jagged edges of this reverie.

To bring an end to the parasitic chaos in her mind — that is the haunting desire which paints her dreams.

Even as a child, Powder would innocently fantasize of a life devoid of smoke and tears. Maybe even a prosperous life in Topside, where she’ll forge a living off her groundbreaking inventions and spend the earned revenue on lavish dresses and the tallest houses. Or, maybe she’ll stay in the Under-City, but forge it into a land of sheer luxury, where Topsiders will beg for a life in the city they abandoned.

That is not exactly what the universe had in store for young Powder, however. There is no room left to daydream with her and her family's current circumstances.

Wind turbines have now been halted after their power supply had been cut off by Piltover. To escape the perfusion of gas and polluted air, citizens of the Under-City have been desperately trying to cross the bridge to Topside. Powder and her family are some of those citizens.

In their attempts to cross, however, tall figures in blue and gold suits use violent force against them. Caught in the crossfire is her parents, who sacrifice themselves to protect the lives of their children.

Powder races after them, but trips over some rubble and twists her ankle in the process. Her hand is then grasped by Violet, who sprints away from the scene with her. One glance over her shoulder and Powder finds them stomach-down on the bridge surface. Empty, dead eyes staring past her.

In their rushed journey back to the Under-City, a sandstorm intensifies around the grief-stricken girls. Violet now carries a wounded Powder in her arms as she struggles to find shelter. The route home is impossible to discern, now overwhelmed with suffocating dust and thick brume.

With this weight in her grasp, Violet feels herself becoming more and more lethargic. She winces with every step taken, before she inevitably collapses to the sand-ridden ground from exhaustion. Powder lands harshly in the process, a pained cry leaping from her throat when the rough ground greets her sprained ankle.

“Vi? Violet!” Her weak voice is a whisper against the thrashing force of the surrounding storm.

She crawls to her sister and presses her shoulders with her tiny palms, begging for her sister to awaken from her unconscious state.

“Violet, please-!”

A figure stands in the distance.

She squints, trying to discern the identity. Her efforts fall short, however, when all she can distinguish is a dust-ridden haze. The figure then begins stepping forward, approaching them. Powder, to her shock, is not afraid at all. Instead, she is the exact opposite, covered in a canopy of peace like a warm blanket.

Halting just several paces away from them, Powder finds the figure to be adorned in a dark cloak; all features of their physicality hidden away in polished fabrics. She swears she can almost see jewels, of some sort, peeking out from beneath their coat.

The figure then lends their hand out towards the two sisters. Powder’s confusion is promptly replaced with sheer amazement with a bright cloud of blue and purple perfuses from their palm. A flurry of incomprehensible letters surround the cloud, of which she assumes she cannot read due to her young age. With that being said, she’s never truly seen a language that looks like that.

A few swift flicks of the stranger's hand and Powder’s vision is engulfed in a white light. She shields her vision to no avail, but the bright intensity is only temporary. When the light swiftly fades, she finds herself astonished, once again.

The rampant storms have been entirely replaced with lush, vibrant fields. She now sits upon fluffy grass nestled against arrays of colorful flowers and vibrant greenery. From above, sprinkles of blue and purple orbs drift through the wind. The moon is clearer than it ever has been in the Under-City, basking her in its gentle glow. Her lungs are now clear of thick pollution and gleefully welcome the perfusion of healthy air.

Too busy engrossed with her surroundings, Powder nearly fails to notice the mysterious stranger as they begin to walk in the opposite direction, flowers with blue and purple petals blooming with every step they tread.

The young girl attempts to garner their attention, once again, but these efforts are halted with a few groggy coughs from her sister. She scrutinizes her surroundings with confusion, but with a perceptible relief upon finding Powder. Violet then gestures to her ankle with intentions of inspecting the injury further. When the two of them look, however, they find that the wound has seemingly vanished. As though Powder had never twisted her ankle in the first place.

She then stands to her feet with her freshly-healed ankle and begins frolicking through the fresh land.

“Magic! Magic!” She exclaims, excitement burning inside of her.

Violet does not share this excitement, however, and sets out on finding shelter, once more. Powder joins her with a newfound pep in her step, as though nothing bad had ever happened before. As though nothing bad could ever happen…

Then, it did happen.

Each chapter of her life ended in blood and destruction. With every final sentence jotted down, she found herself uttering the same sentiment. The stranger will protect me, just the same as they did all those years ago.

A heist in Topside gone wrong? The stranger will protect me.

Underestimating the powers of a certain blue crystal, resulting in the death and abandonment of the people most important to her? The stranger will protect me.

Collapsing into the arms of a new parental figure who leads her to question every moral she’s ever known? The stranger will protect me.

The same man telling her she is not ready for larger missions alongside his strongest soldiers? The stranger will protect me. Just the same as they did all those years ago…

Right?

Then, why aren’t you here? Where did you go? What more do I have to do to bring you back to me?

These thoughts plague the mind of Jinx in the midst of a quiet night.

Through the foggy air swifting through the bridge to Piltover, she sits on one of the grand pillars. Summer of 2021 has arrived and she still has not seen you in the years leading up to this moment. Stalking the bored guards inhaling dry conversations and cigar smoke, Jinx fiddles with Pow-Pow and fights against the truth: the severity of your loss is impacting her more than she is willing to admit.

Another argument results in Silco telling her for the zillionth time of how she is not ready to stand by his side and fight for Zaun. Too overwhelmed by her “past demons”, he always remarks. The one thing restraining her from becoming the killing-machine he raised her to be is you, but she will never inform him of your existence. No one can know of this sacred memory of hers.

This leaves Jinx where she currently remains, plans of invading Piltover and capturing a taste of the rich side clouding her mind. Yanking a few of their valuables will earn the recognition of Silco, no doubt. And maybe, just maybe, if she garners enough of these riches, you’ll be attracted to the sight. Maybe you’ll come back…

With that, she descends from the pillar and scurries past the oblivious guards, excited to set her plan into successful motion. Jinx rushes into the sleeping city and strives for the largest building their prosperous land has to offer, right in the very center and towering over the others.

The interior is most definitely more opulent than the outside. Far more extravagant than any insect-ridden estate the Under-City has to offer. However, none of them have anything interesting to offer her. Every door is slammed open by her aggressive hand, azure-blue eyes scrutinizing the contents for anything appealing.

“Boring. Boring. Ugh, super boring!” She exclaims, no regard for any lurking guards.

Reaching the highest floor, however, she finds stark differences in this expanse than the others. Finally, something that piques her interest! A grand window looks over the entire city, shielded in a haze of soft moonlight. The gold spheres painting the marble floors and bright walls could almost resemble eyes, watching every step she takes. The space is vacant, except for the wide desk built into the wall with notes and tools scattered on the surfaces.

Jinx, the eccentric engineer she is, immediately strives toward the dispersed gadgetry. She finds the usual array of hammers and screwdrivers (which she swiftly stuffs into her satchel). She also discovers inventions she does not recognize, even during the times she has snuck past the investors and scientists in the heat of Progress Day.

“What do you think you’re doing?” A thick accent pervades.

A smirk, one that has claimed Jinx’s lips as home, grows on her face. When she turns over her shoulder, she finds a man standing in the threshold of the office. A mess of brown hair, a lanky body, and thin hands grasping a wooden crane (of which he does not use at this moment, for some odd reason) — an easy kill, that’s for sure!

Jinx utilizes this perceived weakness and is on the man in mere seconds. The cane he holds is swiftly stolen from his grasp and ensnared around his ankles. A quick yank and he is on the ground with a violent grunt. She pulls several loops of rope from her satchel and ensnares them around his limbs in record speed. The polished works of a skilled villain, if you will.

“Don’t you-!”

A sharp kick to his gut and he is silenced, only interrupted by his sputtering coughs against the force of her boot.

“Nice try, bones-y! That’s not how this game is gonna go.”

With an exasperated huff, she throws his feeble body onto a nearby office chair. Patting her hands of imaginary dust, she sits down on the adjacent office desk. Dangling a pocket knife before his brown eyes as though it were shimmering jewelry, Jinx then explains herself.

“Ground rules! You answer my questions truthfully, and I’ll let ‘ya keep all your toothpicks.”

The tip of her knife breathes over his restrained limbs as she speaks. She fails to restrain her laughter at the pathetic way his chest rises and falls with rapid trepidation.

“Are we on the same page, bones-y? Or should I read your diary?”

Without a glance away, her long nail presses into the leather corner of his journal and drags it her way. She begins scouring through the written contents, expecting some juicy, Topsider gossip. Her excited disposition is replaced with a dramatic roll of her eyes when all she finds is boring, scientific jibber-jabber. Just scribbled equations adhering to this “Hextech” nonsense, or whatever the Topsiders call it.

Jinx flips through the remaining pages with aggressive impatience, leaving irreparable tears in the paper in her careless effort.

And then, for the first time in years, the world halts on its axis.

She blinks, gaping at this discovery. Sketched onto the lined paper is no other than you. Drawn in exquisite perfection, just as she remembered you. Same cloak, same jewels, same everything! Something within her flutters; as if those wrangling insects gnawing on the grooves of her brain have finally bloomed into tickling butterflies.

“Get your filthy hands off my-!”

“Shut it, creep!”

Her shaky hands flip page after page as she scours through the remaining contents, desperate for another hit of this drug. She then shoves the pages into the man's face.

“Who is this!? How did you find them?”

The ropes holding him hostage churn and hum as he fights against the restraint.

“I will never let you near them.” He growls through clenched teeth.

Jinx eases her grasp on the journal, which lands lazily in the man's lap. She punctures the knife into the chair, mere centimeters away from his shoulder.

“And I will rip you into itty, bitty pieces if you don’t tell me who they are!” She threatens, forehead nearly touching his as she leans in closer.

“They’re mine! You degenerate!”

Splotches of his spit land on her cheeks in his outburst. Their foreheads buck as he lunges forward, desperate to escape his restraints and strangle this stranger for even uttering mention of his beloved.

His attempts to shield the pages of his journal are only now brought to Jinx’s attention. She does not let this effort pass by unnoticed.

“Hmm…” She muses teasingly.

Bringing the journal back into her possession, the man fights against the ragged ropes with more violent intent, tiny mumbles of “no!” filling the new silence. Scouring through the notes more intently, Jinx finds information regarding a “sanctuary”, of some sort. Then, in bold ink…

“Y/N…?”

“NO! Don’t you dare!”

The journal is swiftly shoved into her satchel with the other stolen borrowed goods. A haunting laugh pervades through the grand expanse. As an infuriating farewell, Jinx hops off the desk and skips out of the office, leaving behind a screaming, thrashing, enraged man to fend for himself.

Jinx now saunters through a forest on the outskirts of the Under-City, exactly where the scribbled notes of that scientist stated she should. Here, she is sure she’ll find you. Maybe a pretty penny or two to impress Silco back home, as well.

The sun is blinding, just as it was all those years ago. Without the busy city-life in the way, the weather of Runeterra is granted the opportunity to persevere here. It is blissfully and heartbreakingly nostalgic, and Jinx is swift to swipe away the evidence of tears brimming in her eyes.

“Anyway, Y/N…!”

She tuts three times as she searches for the right information in the journal held in her grasp.

““The only way to subdue Hextech is through the consumption of human blood. It will strengthen the power of the Hexcore, but will temporarily weaken it as said powers charge.” Blah, blah, blah! Okie-dokie, little vampire, let’s find something actually useful for you, yeah?”

Further scrutinization reveals standing on specific coordinates is the only correct way to summon a portal, the scientist claims. And just as she finishes reading, her satchel then begins to strangely vibrate. It soon accelerates into a violent thrashing, as though a rabid animal were trying to claw its way out of the encasing.

The force sends Jinx to her feet, the skin of her knees splitting upon the unwelcome intrusion of rocks and rubble beneath her. As she studies the wound, one of the inventions she snagged from Piltover falls from her bag. From the invention is a crystal, swarming hues of blue and purple permeating around the sphere. It rolls away as though it were a marble a child had tossed. The inhuman force continues onward before it begins to skip into the air. One last skip and it hits an invisible wall just several paces ahead of Jinx.

A sudden tornado then springs from the crystal, forming a whirlwind of dirt and wind around her. It hastens and spreads, engulfing Jinx in its entire wrath. Visions of her parents and the thick sand that perfused through the Under-City overwhelm her thoughts. She cowers into herself, palms clenched tightly around her ears and nails digging into her scalp.

“Stop! Stop! Make it stop!”

Like a record scratch, the force of the tornado abruptly halts. Sheer silence prevails, as though there were no deafening calamities to begin with.

Hesitantly, Jinx lifts her head. The gentle fog blanketing the forest floor leads to two newly-grown trees, whose trunks rise and intertwine with one another. The descending leaves frame the oval-shape between the trees, which is filled with a glistening gray haze and reflects her tiny form scrunched-up in the dirt. From the haze is a soft squelching, a gentle pitter-patter, as something behind fights against the surface. It twists and turns like stretched glue, before a crack finally forms.

Jinx watches in mesmerized trepidation as a boot steps from the entrance. Then, a full figure. And like the crescendo of a vibrant, aggressive song, the revelation settles and her entire world comes crashing to her feet.

The cloak, the jewels, the flesh — this is no other than you, the one who has haunted her every thought for years. Colorful clouds perfusing from your form and everything.

As you step closer, the adrenaline pumping through her veins, a friend she knows all too well, swiftly becomes a stranger. It is abruptly replaced by satiating tranquility; the kind of peace only an infant would be enveloped in. As though she’s been nestled in a crib, her only worries being the gentle sway of the mobile above her small head and how many fluffy sheep have hopped over the fence.

Her heart, for once, has been lulled to a soft rhythm. All of the tight muscles in her body have been reduced to slick jelly as you kneel down beside her, your face still a mystery behind the dark cloak you adorn.

A force within her thrashes and fights within her, desperate for the violence her hands are familiar with to persevere beyond such petty matters like this. But alas, the force of this wizard overpowers all. It’s almost as though every power the universe possesses has been utilized to force her to give into this new feeling, to fall into the depths of your magic spell. As if the trauma and hurt of her past has simply slipped away like sand between her fingertips.

When the jagged flesh of your palm meets her cheek, her body has a natural reaction to reject your advances. Despite the desire to cling to that cloak and never let go, her legs act on their own and she scrambles to her feet.

Jinx rushes to the Last Drop in and does not look back once.

“It wasn’t them! I know! J-Just some wannabe street trash!”

The blade of the large extractor fan (of which she has claimed as her bedroom) juts uncomfortably into her thin back as she drapes herself across the surface. The neon doodles of her past scattered around the expanse all mock her, messily etched eyes glaring daggers into her.

“They would have saved me by now…”

Jinx abruptly stands to her feet, treading over to her makeshift desk. Returning to the gadgetry left languidly on the surface, she grasps a few of the tools and begins patching the screws and nails of her newest project.

“Isn’t that right, Y/N?”

She points the screwdriver in her hand behind her. Following her gaze there, there is a dilapidated teddy bear hanging from a shredded shoelace, a torn page from the journal with your face sketched on it taped to its cotton head. It sways in silence.

“Knew you’d agree with me!”

When she turns back to the task at hand, her elbow nudges a microscope and knocks the tool over. With a “whoopsie-daisy!” bridging on her tongue, the instrument reaches an encasing she snagged from Piltover, causing the metal strap to loosen and open. From the enclosure is another blue sphere, which rolls out and falls from the desk. It meets the ground and explodes with life, painting the room in effervescent splotches of sheer blue.

Jinx’s vision becomes overwhelmed in a sudden darkness, scrambled with ink etchings. Words of her past slither through the gloom and paint themselves into reality. She finds Milo, decaying lips twitching into a sneer at the sight of her. She finds Claggor, peering at her with disgust through his cracked goggles.

“Mistake! Mistake! It was a mistake!” Jinx rasps, digging her long nails into her hair at a desperate attempt of protection.

Her scrawny knees meet the unforgiving tile and she curls into her own body like a dying cockroach. She finds Vi in this effort, her violent words screeching through the rain. The toy monkey holding the gemstone claps and with every bludgeon to the crystal, a new memory resurfaces – rough hands on her face, the blood painting her chin, the term “JINX!” practically stamped behind her eyelids.

A wrench is clasped from the desk and Jinx chucks it at the vision of her sister standing several feet away from. Then, with utmost clarity, she reveals the truth.

“I wish I’d let you die in that storm! I wish I’d gone with Y/N and left you to rot like you fucking deserve!”

The fan blades shiver beneath the force of her animalistic volume. The rage is soon overwhelmed with devastation when the fantasy of what her life could have been flashes through her mind. Claiming you as hers and leaving her joke of a sister to fend for herself — what more could Jinx ever want?

Through the chaos, she finds an inspiring conclusion. She is not afraid anymore. You are what she deserves and nothing less. And she’ll bend worlds to clasp this desire in her calloused palms.

Nostalgia was something you claimed was painful many years ago. Now, you’ve befriended the feeling and welcome it with open arms. That is certainly the case today, as you’re reminded of yourself long ago with a wicker basket overwhelmed with Moonflowers and Dusk-Petals held in your strong arms.

Strolling through the garden of your palace, indulging in idle chatter with a few village residents in your path, you think of the child you were lifetimes ago. No matter what dangers may encounter your path again, you'll protect that baby. While others have failed that child, you will devote yourself to your promises to them. After all, no child deserves the pain you once endured.

A gaggle of children then skitter from the corner of the garden’s fountain, abruptly colliding with your legs in their effort. A few wobble from the impact, while the others fail to keep themselves standing. Their stuttering snivels lead you to abandon your intentions of gifting flowers to anyone you can find; your inner turmoils had faded as quickly as those little legs rounded that corner. You can’t help it, those teary eyes are like blades puncturing your heart.

From here, you take notice of the scrap metal they’ve somehow found and strapped to their chests. Without missing a beat, you play along with their antics.

“Oh, no! Our beloved knights have fallen!”

Bending down to their level, you guide them to their feet and dust off their clothes.

“Back on your feet, soldier! The state of our empire is in your hands.”

The audience of smiles you receive fills your heart with fluff and their playful giggles work wonders in softening your disposition further. One of the children then brandishes a twig they attempted to carve into something reminiscent of a sword. Once again, you play along.

“My, what lethal weapons you wield! The enemy will stand no chance against our strongest knights!”

All children then flaunt their best fighting poses, where their stern scowls are soon overcome by amused grins and giggles.

One points a tiny finger towards you. “You’re our emperor!”

“Oh, am I?”

Their laughter increases in volume as the others repeat the sentiment.

“Goodness, how could I have forgotten?”

You reach into your basket beside you, plucking a few flowers from the wicker-encasing.

“As your loyal emperor, I must ensure my best defenders receive my protection out on the field.”

A few swift twists and turns of your fingers and you’ve woven several flowers into a makeshift crown. The children all brighten with excitement, crowding around you to scrutinize your efforts further. You bow down and gently place the crown atop the head of one of the children, who proceeds to leap with irrepressible excitement with their new adorning.

Before the others can deliver an onslaught of demands for a crown alike, a screech of your name permeates through the air like glass shattering.

When you turn to identify the sound, a force strikes against your back abruptly and sends you to the pavement. A thin pair of arms are clasped around your waist like a lifeline, bony hands clinging tightly to the jewels and harp strings aligning your arms. You try to escape their grasp with normal effort, but the figure still refuses to relent. A simple flick of your hand and his grasp on you is eased, purple and blue perfusing from your palm.

You soon find that familiar pair of honey-colored eyes and head of messy brown hair. Said eyes are blown wide in a nervous flurry, with strands of dark hair latched to his sweat-painted forehead.

Viktor. What a surprise.

You had given him a mere task. Just one. Travel back to Piltover, gather his belongings, then return here to discuss what being “your messenger” will entail. The man didn’t hesitate in the slightest before he was rushing to fulfill your command. When the sun had risen and fallen with no trace of his return, you rightfully suspected something in his intended efforts had gone awry.

Viktor attempts to explain what exactly went wrong through hyperventilated breaths and relieved expressions of your safety. How concerned he was for your well-being and the like. However, all that is discernible from his relentless rambling is his snarl of a “blue-haired street-rat”.

His incoherent babbling is getting you nowhere, so you are quick to halt his word-vomit and help him to his feet. Your touch shuts him up immediately, to a degree where upon your further inquisitions, Viktor had forgotten what he was speaking of in the first place. He attempts to clasp your face in his palms, practically threatening the prospect of trying to kiss you again.

“‘Blue hair’? Viktor, what is the meaning of this?”

You should’ve known how much of a weapon your voice is, as the man positively melts beneath the embrace of your cadence.

Once again, unsurprisingly, he tries to kiss you again, but his efforts are halted short when a sharp explosion pierces through the air.

Viktor nearly trips to his feet again when he instinctively shields you from the sudden force. You ignore this effort in favor of the late-night sky, which is now overwhelmed with swarming fireworks. Through the vibrant calamity, you find a message.

“JINX + Y/N” is written in colorful particles, pink hearts and sparkles surrounding the bright words.

Several other villagers crowd around you in fear, but before you can scrutinize the threat further, the harsh bludgeon of smoke bombs permeates from all corners around you. Clouds of purple, pink, and blue surround your palace and rid you of the ability to see your surroundings. It certainly does not help when Viktor tackles you to the ground, yet again, in an attempt at preserving your precious life.

None of this hinders your effort, however, and you continue to fight against the threat to your sanctuary. The challenge is almost impossible when you cannot see anything through the pandemonium of vibrant fog and dancing glitter (and of course, the lanky man atop of you).

You call out to the residents of your sanctuary, but are only met with heart-hammering fear when you receive no response. No shouts, no running children, not even the flowers you forged into crowns can be seen through the chaos.

As you attempt to wrangle yourself out of the grasp of this parasite latched to you, something sprints toward you from the haze. All you see is a flash of a gun, which is used to pistol-whip Viktor and send him into complete unconsciousness.

“Purple goes better with blue, I’d say!” A rich, raspy tone calls out.

Puffs of vibrant hues then beam from your palms — a warning against this monster stood before you.

“Please. I do not wish to hurt you…”

She, who you now assume as “Jinx,” laughs hysterically in response. She then shoves Viktor’s dead weight off of you, replacing his stance of towering over your form.

“I know that, silly goose!”

Her blue eyes, wide and crazed, peer into yours. Blue hair pools into ropes beside your shoulders.

“I know everything about you! The whole Y/N-cyclopedia!”

Beneath her blue-and-purple painted fingernails is a leather-worn journal, where you find notes written from scientists working on Hextech.

You do not wish to do this, but alas, you have been given no choice. This threat knows of your powers, how they function, and has now proven to be a danger to your people. With that, you latch your palms around her wrists that are pinning your body to the ground. Harnessing your powers, your colorful palms brighten in their hues and the uncomfortable sound of flesh sizzling fills the air.

Her teeth bare like a rabid wolf when she groans in pain. This effort of yours only results in her pinning you harder onto the ground.

“Naughty birdie!” Jinx growls through heaving breaths. “Maybe this will calm some of those heebie-jeebies, yeah?”

Before you can enact your next course of defense, the monster above you swiftly gathers some of the blood seeping from Viktor’s open skull. The terror in your chest of having your weakness utilized against you is temporary, as her two blood-adorned digits are promptly shoved into your mouth.

Your vision sways like calm waves as your body weakens. With a final echo of “sweet dreams, chickadee”, you fall into the arms of peaceful unconsciousness.

You awake softly, without the terrified aggression your body had forced out of you shortly before. As though you had simply laid down in your morning room for an afternoon nap. Reality is now strikingly different from the tranquility of your sanctuary, however.

Attempting to discern your new surroundings, you find yourself within the interior of a large extractor fan, built long ago to clean the gasses perfusing through the Under-City. It has evidently been abandoned and decorated to the likes of a wild, eccentric somebody, with not a single surface untouched by neon graffiti. The scattering of spray paint cans, jagged-edged chalk, and other art supplies explains such.

These details are accentuated by the flamboyant lights adorned throughout the expanse, specifically the pink candles waxed into the ground surface. Romantic, in a personal attempt, you think.

Scrutinizing further, you find stuffed animals and chopped mannequin heads strung from descending ropes, some with ripped pages taped to the faces. You also find robes that are strangely familiar, which are dangling from old, fractured wires. Almost like a deranged closet, of some sort.

When you shift your gaze down, you look to your body and find yourself in an old clawfoot bathtub that has been dragged onto one of the fan blades. You’ve been laid upon several blankets with your limbs restrained to an impossible, uncomfortable degree with ragged rope.

The bathtub itself is beneath a canopy of several ragged, yet colorful drapes staples over you. Almost like a child’s fort, you note. Your cloak has vanished, as well as the adornments of trinkets and jewels you’ve strapped to your form, which leaves you in almost complete nudity.

Thundering music surrounds the expanse and abuses your eardrums. Some mushy-gushy old-timey tunes, from what you can tell. They burst out from a rusty gramophone just several feet away from you.

And with these tunes is the undeniable sound of someone humming along.

Before this realization can settle, a distorted figure hops into the bathtub with ease and situates herself on your lap. The long locks of blue braids are unmistakable. So is that cheshire grin plastered on her painted lips.

Sharp nails, like the claws of a purple-striped cat, dig into your cheeks and pinch them as though you were a chubby baby. Any effort to yank away from her aggressive affection is met with an authoritative tut, doing nothing to mend your feelings of being an adorable child facing the whorls of ‘stranger-danger’ for the first time.

“Aww, shucks, tweety! Can’t help it when you’ve dolled yourself up for me!”

From seemingly nowhere, Jinx draws a cracked hand mirror and presents you with the horrors of your reflection. Your mouth has been shielded by a thick wad of duct tape. Doodled on the surface is the humiliating sight of a red kissy-face. The artist did not halt there, either, and scribbled a bold “KISS ME, JINX!” across your forehead.

“Didn’t think you’d be so forward on our first date, but hey! Who said I was complaining?”

Her lips are on yours without a second to process, the duct tape serving as your only form of protection against her violent adoration. Your eyes are wide and crazed as they stare into her closed ones, all while she mindlessly loses herself within the affection. God, how long has she been wanting to do this?

You try to fight against her force, but any attempt to harness your powers is futile. Even with the taste of iron still heavy on your tongue, you still found it within you to try with your best effort. Must be that “naivety” your parents spoke of, you suppose.

You don’t have a mere moment to theorize how she (or anyone, for that matter) had learned about how your supernatural body is weak to human blood, however. Not when Jinx finally satiates her hunger and pulls away with an obnoxious “mwah!”, a nauseating string of saliva connecting the two of you together. A few more peppered kisses and you’re finally free from the lips of this lunatic.

“Hoo! Ten-outta-ten, toots!” She exhales, as though your mere kiss was reminiscent of inhaling a line of the most lethal drug.

Her gaunt elbows dig into your chest as she rests her chin on her palms, gaze burning into yours.

“Didn’t expect anything less from you, of all people…” Her voice, which has been stagnantly animated and fiery, has now shifted to something wistful and soft. “All that I’ve been through… After all you’ve done for me…”

Her finger drags down your features, ignoring every fearful shiver of yours in favor of scrutinizing the beauty beneath her.

Every bruising hardship, every bludgeon of trauma, every drop of thick blood — all of the world’s most torturous fates has been forced upon Jinx from the very second she was born. All of which you could have halted with the mere snap of your fingers, but for whatever reason, chose not to.

She should be angry; she should burst into a blood-hungry rage. One look to that face, though, and all that ache just melts into candied goop. Just sheer perfection, you are. Smoothing out all those tight nerves and stitching up her loose, awkward threads. You bring forward serenity she didn't know existed, as though nothing bad had ever happened to her…

You’ve done so much for her without even blinking. Only makes sense she’d give you something in return, right?

“Gotcha somethin’, birdie.” Jinx’s voice is still breathless as she reaches for something beneath the bathtub, eye contact still strictly maintained.

You stare in trepidation as she then presents to you a dilapidated box, painted in blue and black stripes with a grand purple bow glued on top. It lands with a quiet plop on your chest as the blue-haired maniac above you watches in expectation. She gestures for you to open the gift, and the glance of confusion smeared on your expression reminds her of a doe-eyed puppy-dog. Too cute!

You nearly jump out of your skin when she abruptly bursts out in manic laughter. Her jagged nail points to the ropes around your limbs, as though her deranged actions were pure comedy gold.

“Sorry about that, baby-bird.” She wipes a stray tear from her eye. “Had to clip your wings for a minute. No biggie, though! Jinx will give ‘ya a hand.”

The box is opened swiftly, like an excited kid on Christmas morning who can’t bother to waste anymore time waiting for their exhausted parents. Upon looking at the contents, she lets out an obnoxious, animated gasp. Hand covered over her mouth and all. The box is then abandoned in favor of the gift inside.

Much to your horror, held in Jinx’s lanky fingers is a black, leather collar. Imprinted in copper calligraphy is “Property of”, with a vibrant and messy “JINX!” doodled beneath in neon paint. How fitting.

The collar is then promptly ensnared around your throat, the master lock swung upon the metal latch frigid against your neck. Before you can even attempt to conceal your perceptible disdain, the key is shoved into the lock and latched shut; claiming you as permanent property. Her personal marked territory, if you will.

The key gleams beneath the colorful lights as she dangles it in the air. With a swift flick, the key is tossed from her grasp and down the expanse of the extractor fan. Never to be seen again.

“Oopsie!” She teases with a forced, dramatic gasp.

You’re then ensnared into a tight embrace, despite your efforts to resist the act of affection. All the playful nuzzles into your new dog-collar and sloppy kisses to your flesh — you’d surely vomit if it were within your supernatural capabilities.

And if any word could be used to describe the affection of Jinx, you would abuse the term ‘suffocating’.

This fact reminds you of its violent existence as a week passes.

The hours of the day move at a snail’s pace as you remain pliant in the bathtub. The torn duct tape still remains latched to your mouth, only torn off to feed you more heaps of blood. You don’t have the strength to question where exactly the blood is derived from. Not that you have the ability to ask anything, for that matter.

Nonetheless, the only stagnant thought in your mind is the state of your sanctuary and your people. Your abduction was so abrupt, it is impossible for you to properly discern exactly what occurred. Just a blurry mess of colorful smoke and blue hair — that is all you can properly recall.

While these inner turmoils reign havoc in your head, you’re stuck in a constant sway between the fine line of consciousness with Jinx subduing you with blood. In the rare bursts of clarity, you normally find her tinkering with new inventions at her desk, a plan of “revenge” against all the “topside trash”, as she commonly restates.

In the process, she has also claimed you as a new invention, as well. Guinea pig, to be more accurate. Always poking and prodding and testing your unnatural abilities. You’ve lost count of the amount of times she’s held pots of soil to your feet to marvel at the Dusk-Petals that bloom in response. Much to your dismay, “Petal-Toes” is a nickname that has been added to the mountain of others she has stored for you.

The cherry on top to this mess-of-a-milkshake is, undoubtedly, Jinx and her infamous jealousy streak.

You’ve learned it can burst from something as minor as an inanimate object. Nestling that teddy bear in your restrained embrace, she’ll force you through a deranged photoshoot (with an expensive camera she snagged from Topside, indubitably). Within the clap of a second, she’ll become overwhelmed with jealousy over the stuffed furry-friend in your arms before snagging it away from you, chucking it off the edge of the fan blade.

Promptly, and without surprise, she then replaces poor teddy’s spot in your arms with her scrawny self. Even without another soul near, this possessive disposition always perseveres through the sickening sweetness.

This treatment stretches into the night, as well. With another dosage of blood (dinner for two, she jokes), Jinx curls up against your chest like a clingy cat, quiet snores drifting past her parted lips. How she finds such comfort in this cramped, unbearable bathtub remains a mystery to you. You swear, clawfoots will haunt your nightmares for the rest of your eternal life.

Today, however, is different.

Jinx drags on with another rambling fit, something that has now become a daily habit. Currently, she boasts about “protecting precious cargo”. Why is a madman like her concerned with the transportation of goods? Something in relation to the influx of shimmer, perhaps?

She then grasps Pow-Pow, shoving it into its holster, before rushing over and planting a hard kiss to your tape-covered mouth. Quick, as Jinx always is, she is gone before you can even blink.

The consideration behind her intent is left to float around in your head as the rare silence settles. They permeate to such a degree, in fact, you almost do not note how she had forgotten your morning dose of blood. “Breakfast for Birdie,” as she infamously titled it, which she has seemingly abandoned in favor of this task. Or, possibly, she has made the mistake of trusting you.

Nonetheless, for the first time in several agonizing days, a flicker of hope glimmers on the horizon. And you do not let this hope snuff itself out.

Easily enough, you clench your fists and puffs of blue and purple spurt out like an old engine. You did not realize how badly you missed the hum of magic concentration until you felt the vibration rumble in your palms. A few jabs at the rusted skill and your abilities have finally returned.

With ease you have longed dearly for, a mere tap of your finger and the ragged ropes latched around you finally loosen their grasp. They lay in lazy loops beneath you, granting your limbs the opportunity to finally sigh with relief. You do not let a second pass before you rip that damn tape from your mouth, either.

When you try to stand, however, you find your body to still be weakened by the strain this week has forced upon you. In this attempt, you also overestimate the efforts of your newly-charged powers. With a swing of your arm, a lightning bolt of light springs from your palm and strikes the golden clawfoot. The effort knocks the entire bathtub on its side, sending you tumbling onto the decaying fan blade.

The collision is loud, enough for you to anticipate Jinx’s return in record speed, despite her departure from minutes ago. The silence that follows is frozen, but with no blue-haired sicko there to slap-you-silly for your attempts, you waste no time in chasing after your escape.

With no remaining strength in your feeble body, the only action you can resort to is slithering across the premises like a drunken snake. Soon enough, with your stomach covered in cat-scratches (and smeared lipstick stains from a certain somebody), you find yourself at Jinx’s desk. You use the surface to lift yourself and finally reach a place of reliable stability. The heavy doses of blood still swaying in your stomach make this task almost impossible, but you find your way to your feet, nonetheless.

Even though you are almost nude, you rid the need to conceal yourself and your identity in favor of the door across one of the fan blades. The effort is pathetic, but with several limping paces, you open the door and are met with the pitter-patter of rain caressing your naked skin. It is a feeling you have not touched in centuries; always blanketed in your beloved cloaks.

Nostalgia is now painful as you rush down the stairs of the fire escape. Soon, the night life of the Under-City soon welcomes you and your lethargic self. A major juxtaposition to the tranquil stillness of your sanctuary. When the neon lights and grand buildings begin to double in your vision, you realize time is not on your side tonight.

Staggering into an alleyway, it is not long before your body finally gives out on you. When you collapse on top of a pile of rain-soaked cardboard scraps, piles of crushed beer cans and shattered shimmer bottles there to cushion your descent, your final fighting act is praying Jinx does not find you. Or anyone, for that matter.

“Honey, I’m home!”

The door to the interior of the extractor fan bursts open; a dramatic entrance aligning with the nature of no other than Jinx.

“I have an idea for another photoshoot with my smoking-hot supermodel! Clothing optional, of course!”

In her grasp is a gift of a ragged bird plushie. Once cradled by a baby in a stroller, but was swiftly yanked by a stranger's sticky paws. You can’t blame her, though! The beady, doe-eyes reminded her of the special someone she has waiting patiently for her back home.

Except, you aren’t there.

Blankets and ropes left in a languid mess, bathtub left on its side — the evidence is laid out perfectly like a cheesy detective film.

“Y/N…?”

The call is quiet and gentle; a warning, almost.

“Y/N…”

Now, a demand.

“O-Okay, okay! Hide-n-seek! We can play a little, but when I find you-” She huffs out angrily. “I call the shots in round two. Y’hear me?”

The decor surrounding the expanse is left in a sloppy mess in the matter of minutes, gadgetry and plushies thrown about in a desperate, childish fit. Every failed attempt at finding your face hidden away in some secret nook, candy-sweet smile there to congratulate her on her win, breaks away at her sanity piece by piece.

There’s sounds of squealing scratches, like skittering bugs, that fill her ears. Colors gleam in her periphery like a film strip burning under heat, mending with the blurred, distorted pictures her mind forces her to watch. Neon outlines of the ghosts from her past spring to life, lashing out in blinding animation and barking out incomprehensible, echoing insults.

“Shut up. Shut up. Shut up. Shut up! I need to think!”

A bullet pierces through the gramophone, distorting the upbeat tunes to stuttering nonsense. This effort does not cease the abuse of Mylo, Claggor, Vi, and even that stupid scientist!

Tears seep down her face as she desperately searches for you through the calamity. Even a puny figment will be enough to ease this chaos. When your abandonment proves itself in acute clarity, she is left with the distorted sounds of her cracked wails, her rough nails scratching her skin, and the fated return of all her demons.

The door is shoved open, once again, and Jinx, for just a mere moment, allows herself to hope. Your face will fill her vision and she’ll watch in glee as her demons are yanked back to hell. Exactly where they belong. Then, you’ll stumble over and sink into her arms, drowning her in affection and apologies. Exactly where you belong.

And, of course, she’ll forgive you for this little hiccup. Just a lost birdie who finally flew their way home — that’s what has happened. Just a little mishap, which you’ll both poke fun at after another good clawfoot-nap.

When she finds blue suits trimmed with gold, long barrels pointed her way, that hope is snatched from her grasp as quick as she claimed it. The faces behind the thick gas-masks and goggles shout out demands at her. Their voices are warped, however, bending beneath the force of her prevailing hallucinations.

Another step closer, another voice louder and she latches onto her gun and swings it their way. She is swift, but so are they. The rear of a shotgun is rammed into her temple. In a flash, she is out like a light.

Jinx now stands at one of the highest points in Zaun.

Sneaky as she is, the carriage ride back to Piltover needed a few well-placed bullets and she slipped out of their hands in easy effort.

Scratching itches still whisper to her, threaded together with the words of her past.

“You’re a jinx!”

“Please. I do not wish to hurt you…”

“They’re mine! You degenerate!”

Through the roaring mayhem, one fact prevails: the fault is in the arms of no other than those filthy topsiders. From the murder of her parents to the betrayal of her sister, every wrong she has ever endured has been caused at their hand. And the robbery of the only thing she has ever loved has now completely pushed her over that edge.

Jinx currently stands at the roof of the warehouse where the people she thought she loved left her behind. In her grasp is her latest, most grandest project. Metal wings adorned in blue and purple splotches, with a sharp beak clutched around the Hextech-powered rocket – the weight of the rocket launcher is heavy. “Bird-Brain” is the name she gave it, inspired by the birdie that was stolen from her.

Cursed images begin to flood her mind, a hallucination stronger than ever before. Jinx sees her beloved Y/N and that scientist, locked away together in a laboratory. She is haunted by sights of needles and tubes, forcing you to live as a lifeless lab rat. She is prey to the ideas of that annoying, thick accent telling you of what a monster she is, with you latching onto every syllable. She is nauseated by painted pictures of romantic endeavors, where you and the scientist lay together with matching golden rings.

And it pains Jinx in ways no other torture could.

With a thundering roar, her finger plunges the trigger and the rocket soars through the sky. Wings flap as it finds Piltover, beak poking right at the council’s headquarters. Just as she should have done long ago.

Like the dejection of a curtain call, Jinx’s dreams were once true: to bring an end to the parasitic chaos in her mind. After an entire lifetime, she was finally free. There, beneath the light of you, everything thawed.

Now, her dreams have shifted. Jinx will kill these demons, whether material or make-believe.

No matter what it takes.

⁺ 🎧 , 🪷 you are currently listening to . . . ⁺ 🪺 , 🎵 ꪆ

❝ YOU ARE MY MEDICINE

WHEN YOU'RE CLOSE TO ME . . . ❞

gif creds.

tag list: @honey-beeuwu @mrprettycom @makangelo @thelonelyme @solavily @eldritch-bunny @decaffeinatedclodbagelweasel @orbitingmarswithp @frickidyfrog @phantomdomi @mermaidm0tel6 @numbu5 @applepinsss @anon34570 @biohazardousbunny @vogelaqwry @lorely788 @mellowangeltree @myathegoat @alix-37 @lavandercinnamon @vrnicky @mellowfishauthoreggs

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cactus-cuddler · 5 months ago

Text

🅒🅞🅤🅡🅣🅢🅘🅓🅔

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x f!reader

Word count: 1,7 k

Plot: While reading in a park, you unexpectedly run into one familiar faces—Sam Wilson, your old high school friend, and his colleague, Bucky Barnes. Sam humorously pushing the two of you together. Despite Bucky’s awkwardness and Sam’s meddling, you find yourself drawn to Bucky’s genuine nature, leading to a sweet first date and the promise of more to come.

Author's note: sorry for my bad English

You’re at the park, trying to channel your inner bookworm by reading outside like those romantic novel characters who always seem so serene. The only available bench, however, is inconveniently located in front of a basketball court. At first, it’s peaceful—the court is empty, and the summer breeze is making you feel like this might just be the best idea you've ever had.

But then, the peace shatters as the distant sound of children’s laughter and shouts approaches. You sigh, deciding to stay put. They’re just kids, after all. At least, you hope so. Teenagers, you remind yourself, are a different story. They’re like wild animals—unpredictable, loud, and far too aware of the chaos they can cause. You were one not long ago; you know this all too well.

The court quickly fills with noisy kids, and then, two men join the fray. One is a tall, African American guy with a goatee and sunglasses, exuding confidence. The other is a muscular man with a vibranium arm—yes, vibranium—and a look that says he’d rather be anywhere else. Your book, once a portal to another world, now seems less interesting with these two towering figures before you, dressed in tank tops and basketball shorts like they just stepped out of a fitness magazine.

“Kids, keep it down! There’s a young lady trying to read over here!” the guy with the goatee shouts, pointing directly at you. You blush, sinking into your seat. Great. Now you’re not just a background character; you’re the center of attention. Getting up and leaving would only make things worse.

You lower your head, desperately trying to look absorbed in your book, but the words are just a blur now.

“Hi there, young lady!” The same guy calls out, strolling toward you like he owns the place. The other man, the one with the vibranium arm, follows reluctantly, looking like he’d prefer to melt into the ground. As they get closer, something clicks. You know that voice. It's Sam Wilson—the guy who used to talk to you in high school, the one who was always kind when no one else was.

“Sam?” you blurt out, closing your book and standing up with a smile.

“Hey, beautiful! What brings you here?” he asks, leaning in to kiss your cheeks like no time has passed.

“I live around here,” you reply, and he grins, launching into an explanation about how he and his friend, Bucky Barnes (yes, that Bucky Barnes), teach basketball to local kids.

“This is my buddy Bucky. I wish he’d stop flirting with my sister, though. You seem more his type,” Sam teases, nudging Bucky, who looks mortified.

“I don’t flirt with your sister,” Bucky grumbles, clearly frustrated.

“And what about that look you give her?” Sam presses, and Bucky, flustered, attempts to defend himself.

“It’s called a friendly expression.”

“You don’t know how to be friendly. Admit it, that’s your flirty look,” Sam insists.

“This one?” Bucky flashes a smile that could make hearts stop.

“Tell me if that’s not a flirty look,” Sam asks, turning his gaze to you.

“That’s definitely a flirty look. Very effective, by the way,” you add, earning a high-five from Sam while Bucky rolls his eyes skyward.

“Well, you should be happy if your friend likes your sister,” Bucky retorts.

“Except that friend tried to kill Captain America a couple of times,” Sam quips, and you decide—for your own sanity—to believe that’s a joke.

“You promised not to bring that up again!” Bucky snaps, clearly exasperated, but Sam just pats him on the shoulder.

“So, how about you go out with him?” Sam asks, turning back to you with a grin. “But if he tries anything, just call me. The Falcon will come to your rescue,” he adds with a wink.

You chuckle at Sam’s antics, but there’s something about Bucky that intrigues you. Maybe it’s the quiet strength in his eyes, or the way he’s trying so hard to maintain his cool around Sam’s teasing. Whatever it is, you feel a spark of curiosity.

“Well, if Bucky’s interested, I wouldn’t mind a coffee date,” you say, surprising yourself with your boldness. Bucky’s eyes widen slightly, and for a moment, he looks completely caught off guard.

Sam laughs, clapping Bucky on the back. “Looks like you’ve got yourself a date, Buck!”

Bucky glances at you, checking if you’re serious. You give him a reassuring smile, and he quickly looks away, cheeks tinged with the slightest blush.

"I'm sure you'll get along. He read “The Hobbit” as soon as it came out!" Sam exclaims, and you can't help but be a little impressed.

As the day winds down and the kids' mothers arrive to collect them, Sam invites you to join them for a drink at a nearby bar. You’re eager to catch up with Sam, who you’d lost touch with after high school. You share stories, laugh about old times, and it feels like no time has passed since you last hung out.

"Back in school, Sam was the only one who talked to me. He'd always pop up from nowhere, scare the daylights out of me, and drag me to whatever crazy thing he had planned, like alcoholic parties when he was always finished drunk and try to find me a boyfriend dating his friends" you say, laughing at the memories.

“That sounds annoying,” Bucky adds, and you nod in agreement, much to Sam’s mock offense.

"You seemed so close, why did you stop talking?" Bucky asks while sipping the draft beer he ordered.

"I joined the army, became Falcon and didn't have much time to keep friends anymore," Sam replies looking at the table with nostalgia caressing his face "but every time I feel nostalgic I look at our old photos," he finally says and you smile at him.

As the evening wraps up, you exchange numbers with Sam and Bucky. Just as you’re about to leave, Bucky catches you when Sam isn’t looking.

“So, tomorrow…” you start.

“Let’s meet at the park, if you want,” he suggests, his tone soft but sure. You smile at him, pleasantly surprised by his forwardness.

“I saw that!” Sam shouts, suddenly appearing out of nowhere. You both jump, just like back in high school.

“Damn it, Sam!” Bucky exclaims as Sam bursts into laughter.

The next afternoon, you arrive at the park dressed simply but with a hint of elegance. You didn't want to overdo it, but you wanted to make a good impression. Bucky is already there, playing basketball by himself. You watch him for a few moments—he's really good. When he notices you watching, he blushes slightly, clearly a bit embarrassed.

"Want to take some shots?" he asks, and you nod, knowing full well that you’re terrible at basketball. But Bucky is patient, guiding you through each shot, his hands steadying yours as he stands close behind you. His chest brushes against your back, and you can feel the warmth of his breath on your neck. It’s more than a little distracting, but somehow, you manage to score. He smiles, clapping his hands in approval, and you can't help but cheer.

“They’ll definitely sign me to the NBA by the end of the day, right?” you joke.

“Absolutely. A tall man in a suit will show up any second now,” he replies, chuckling. You both share a laugh, and he gives you a look that’s all kinds of sweet.

After you’re both too tired to keep playing, Bucky surprises you with a bouquet of flowers he’d hidden on the sidelines. You’re impressed, and silently thank yourself for always carrying deodorant and perfume. You offer him some deodorant, and he accepts without hesitation, even though it’s clearly for women.

“Perfume?” you ask, holding out the bottle, and he shakes his head, probably thinking it’s too “girly.” But you spray some on him anyway, and he starts coughing, his eyes narrowing at you.

“Has Sam rubbed off on you with his disregard for people’s choices?” he teases, and you giggle at his joke.

You walk side by side, talking about your lives. You find yourself increasingly fascinated by him. Compared to his epic saga, your life feels like a short story, but he listens intently, making you feel like every word you say matters.

“I had a great time. Thank you,” you say as you stand in front of your door, smiling up at him.

“Me too,” he replies, his voice soft. You lean in, leaving a gentle kiss on his cheek. You can see the blush creep up his face, and it only makes him more endearing. You're already thinking about your next date—this one went far better than you could have imagined.

Just as you’re about to say goodbye, Sam appears out of nowhere, grinning like a Cheshire cat.

“Guys, this date is missing all the essentials!” he exclaims, causing both you and Bucky to jump. Bucky groans, clearly exasperated.

“No candlelit dinner? No romantic phrases? Not even a kiss under the moon? Come on, guys! I’m trying to organize a wedding by the end of the summer. We don’t have time to take things slow,” he jokes, winking at you.

“Don’t listen to him. We can take our time and see each other again,” Bucky reassures you, his eyes locking with yours in a way that makes your heart flutter.

“You could’ve at least taken her to your place and shown her your amazing couch!” Sam insists, clearly not ready to let it go.

“You’ve never even been to my house! Stop talking about my couch,” Bucky grumbles, rolling his eyes. You can’t help but laugh at their banter—it’s clear these two have a friendship built on teasing and mutual respect.

"You two have another date tomorrow," Sam finally declares, pointing at both of you with a smug grin. Bucky waves goodbye, and as he turns to leave with Sam, you can't help but feel a warm sense of anticipation for what’s to come. Sam, of course, is already giving Bucky a barrage of unsolicited tips on how to "improve" the next date.

As they walk away, you stand there for a moment, still smiling, your heart light and your mind already replaying the best moments of the day. You’re looking forward to seeing Bucky again—he’s sweet, awkward in the most charming way, and there’s a connection between you that feels genuine, like something that could really grow.

And as much as you appreciate Sam’s meddling, you’re glad that Bucky wants to take things slow, to give you both the time to get to know each other. It’s refreshing and makes you even more excited for tomorrow.

As you head inside, you can still hear Sam's voice in the distance, likely teasing Bucky about that "flirty look" of his. You laugh to yourself, feeling grateful for the unexpected turn your day took. It’s funny how life works—what started as a quiet afternoon at the park with a book turned into something so much more.

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faebled-stories · 3 months ago

Text

Restless Desires

Kinkvember Day 5: In Heat

IVE's Kim Jiwon (Liz) x Gender Neutral reader

6.8k words

A delicate warmth brushes Liz's face, coaxing her out of sleep. She shifts beneath the sheets, feeling their softness around her like a lingering embrace. Her eyelids flutter open, and the blurred outlines of her room slowly sharpen as she blinks away the last dregs of sleep. Gentle light filters through the curtains, painting her bed in golden shades, almost as if she’s emerged into a new, tender world. With a slow breath, she senses the quiet hum of morning—the soft ticking of the clock, the faint rustle of the sheets, and the subtle, irresistible pull of something stirring within her.

Heat begins to stir low in her belly, a subtle spark that soon spreads like molten fire through her veins. Liz groans softly, a sound of half-hearted resistance mingled with surrender, as she tries to ignore the steady throb between her thighs. Not today, she thinks, rolling over and pulling the covers tighter around her, seeking comfort in her nest of warmth. But the sensation persists, creeping back with greater urgency, like an uninvited guest refusing to leave. Her skin tingles, her breaths quickening, as the fire inside her intensifies, insistent and unyielding—a force that refuses to be denied.

Frustration flickers in Liz's chest, a tiny ember amidst the growing blaze of her desire. She doesn’t want to start the day like this—needy, desperate for something only you can give her. The thought of your touch, the memory of your skin against hers, and the way a single look from you can ignite her longing make the ache impossible to ignore. Her fingers slide beneath the sheets, grazing over bare skin, tracing the contours of her body as if mapping uncharted territory. Even the lightest touch sends a ripple of pleasure through her—a shockwave that promises more but still isn’t enough. It’s like standing on the edge of a precipice, feeling the thrill of the fall without ever taking the leap.

This is ridiculous, she scolds herself, the inner voice a stern reminder amidst the clamoring of her body. It’s too early to feel so worked up. But as her fingers moved lower, skimming the sensitive skin of her inner thighs, a soft gasp escaped her lips. Her body hums, alive with desire, every nerve ending screaming for release. Yet no matter how hard she tries, the relief she craves is always just out of reach, a mirage dancing on the horizon, taunting her with its elusiveness.

After several minutes of futile attempts, Liz groans in frustration and throws the covers aside, the cool air of the room clashing with the heat burning inside her. She stomps into the bathroom and splashes cold water on her face, hoping the shock of it will douse the flames consuming her. But as she stares at her flushed reflection, droplets of water clinging to her cheeks, she knows the day has already been defined by the current of desire coursing through her. It’s a force too strong to be quelled by cold water or willpower. This part of her—a wild, untamed longing—yearns for connection, for the touch only you can provide.

Liz steps into the shower, letting the hot water stream over her skin, the heat a strange comfort that matches the fire pulsing beneath her surface. The steam wraps around her, blending with the tension she carries, momentarily giving her the illusion of release. But as the minutes pass, it becomes clear that no amount of scalding water can wash away the ache smoldering inside. Shutting off the stream, she wraps herself in a towel, droplets trailing like tiny reminders of her unrelieved need.

Accepting the truth that pulses within her, Liz acknowledges that the only way to find peace is to embrace the fire, to surrender to the longing that refuses to subside. Determined, she resolves to seek you out, knowing that only you hold the key to quenching the thirst burning inside her. After drying off, she pulls on simple undergarments, the fabric cool against her still-warm skin. She throws on an oversized sweater in an attempt to shield herself from the world, but the soft, loose fabric feels irritating against her heated body. Her shorts, normally a comfortable fit, now feel restrictive, a teasing reminder of the tension coiling within her. Even as she steps into the kitchen, Liz’s frustration has only deepened.

In the gentle calm of the kitchen, you sit at the table, fingers flying across your laptop keyboard. You looked focused, so absorbed in your work, and the sight sent a jolt through Liz, intensifying the throbbing between her legs. She bites her lip, momentarily stunned by the image of you deep in concentration, while her body vibrates with a need that makes it impossible to think of anything else.

“Morning,” she calls softly, attempting a casual tone.

You glance up, offering a warm smile. “Morning my love, how was your sleep?,” you reply before returning your focus to the screen, oblivious to the storm brewing within her.

With a hard gulp and her heart pounding as Liz crosses the room in quick strides. She leans down, planting a soft kiss on your lips, intending it as a brief touch of affection. But the instant her lips meet yours, the fire blazing inside her flares to life, overtaking any sense of restraint. The kiss deepens almost instinctively, her body pressing against yours, her fingers trembling as they cling to your shirt.

A soft, involuntary whimper escapes her, and she feels the tension in her own body shiver into the kiss. She needs this, needs you, the way a parched desert thirsts for rain. Every inch of her skin feels electrified, hyper-aware of your closeness, her pulse racing to match the quickening rhythm of her breath.

You pull back slightly, surprised, your eyes searching hers. “Baby? What—”

But she doesn’t let you finish. Driven by a hunger too strong to ignore, she grabs the front of your shirt with both hands and pulls you back, crashing her lips into yours with a fierce, undeniable need. Her fingers twist in the fabric, knuckles whitening as she clings to you, anchoring herself against the tidal wave of longing rising within her. The kiss is no longer gentle—it’s a desperate claim, a silent plea that her words can’t convey. Her mouth moves against yours insistently, each press of her lips more urgent than the last, her breath mingling with yours as she leans in, seeking every ounce of connection she can steal from this moment.

Her body seems to mold itself to yours, her hands slipping up to cradle the back of your neck, pulling you closer as though afraid of the slightest distance. Her pulse hammers in her veins, each beat fueling the fire burning brighter inside her, making it impossible to hold back. She pours every bit of her yearning into that kiss, the soft brush of her lips transforming into something raw and consuming, a desperation she can’t disguise or suppress.

When you finally break apart, both of you are breathless, and Liz’s face is flushed, her pupils wide with desire. She grins, heart pounding a wild rhythm that mirrors the frantic beat of her pulse. "Just... a good morning kiss," she teases, though her voice is husky, barely above a whisper, betraying the intensity of her desire.

You chuckle, shaking your head with a look of endearing exasperation. “Right... Maybe you should let me get back to work?”

Liz steps back, the fire inside her roaring even hotter at your words. She isn’t done—not even close. The kiss has only stoked the flames, and the tension in her body is becoming unbearable. She needs more, much more than a mere kiss.

As she busies herself preparing breakfast, Liz keeps glancing over at you. The sight of you working, which usually brings her comfort, now fills her with irritation. Is their work really that important? she wonders, feeling the heat twist in her stomach. Or are they just ignoring me? The thought fuels a potent mix of frustration and anticipation.

In a bold move, she leans over the counter, letting the sweater slip down her shoulder, exposing more skin than necessary. “Hey,” she calls, keeping her tone light and playful. “Do you think it’s normal to feel… really warm down there?”

You glance up, raising an eyebrow in curiosity. “Warm? Like a fever?”

Liz chuckles, her heart racing with the thrill of her own audacity. “No, not like that... just... you know, hot.” She lets the words hang in the air, heavy with implication.

Your expression is confused, and it only stokes her impatience. “Maybe it’s the weather,” you offer, looking back at your screen. “Should I open a window?”

Liz sighs, rolling her eyes as she turns back to the stove. Seriously? she thinks, already conjuring up a dozen ways to make you understand the heat she wants to share. The day is still young, and Liz is determined that the fire within her will not be doused by misunderstanding or indifference. Today, she’ll make sure you feel the heat, too.

After a cozy breakfast shared in the warm glow of morning light, Liz feels a familiar itch for a bit of fun. The soft clicks of your keyboard punctuate the quiet kitchen, your concentration clearly unbroken by her hints at distraction. She smiles to herself, deciding it’s time to turn things up a notch.

With a mischievous glint in her eye, Liz unlocked her phone and scrolled through her carefully curated playlist until she found one of your favorite songs—an upbeat, toe-tapping melody known to get even the most stoic souls moving. As the lively tune filled the kitchen, she swayed her hips, casting a playful glance over her shoulder in your direction.

“Come on, you love this song!” she teased, her voice bubbling with infectious enthusiasm. She exaggerated her movements, swishing her hips dramatically as if inviting you to join her in a spontaneous dance. “Dance with me!”

You glanced up, offering a brief smile at her playful energy before your eyes returned to the screen. “I would love to, but I really need to finish this…” you replied, your tone laced with apology but unwavering in focus.

Undeterred, Liz spun on her toes, her hair fanning out as she twirled closer to you. “Oh, come on!” she exclaimed, throwing her hands up in mock exasperation. “Just one dance. You know you can’t resist me!”

A soft chuckle slipped from you, clearly entertained by her antics, but your fingers resumed their quick tapping across the keyboard. “I really need to get this done,” you insisted, your focus still intact.

With an exaggerated huff, Liz threw her hands in the air, her eyes sparkling with renewed determination. She realized subtlety wasn’t going to work this time; she needed a different approach. So, with a sly smile, she scrolled through her phone again, selecting a slower, sultry track that filled the kitchen with a deep, sensual beat. She began moving to the rhythm, rolling her hips in a way she knew would be impossible for you to ignore.

The shift in tempo did not go unnoticed. Your fingers stilled momentarily, and your gaze lifted, following the hypnotic sway of her body. Liz noticed the flicker of interest in your eyes and smirked inwardly. Gotcha, her confidence started to build.

“What's more important, your work or me?” she whispered, stepping closer until her chest is pressed against your back. “Come on, just give in, I can see it in your eyes.” Her breath was warm on your ear, her voice dipping into a tone that sent a shiver down your spine.

Without waiting for a response, she leaned in, pressing a gentle, lingering kiss just below your ear, where she knew you liked. Her lips traced down the line of your jaw, slow and deliberate, as if savoring every inch of skin. Her kisses were soft at first, feather-light, each one coaxing you to lose a little more focus.

As she reached the side of your neck, her hands slid up and tangled into your hair, her fingers curling with just enough pressure to make you look up from your work. She tugged gently, pulling you closer as she kissed the spot just above your collarbone, her lips pressing in deeper, each kiss warmer and more possessive than the last. She could feel the faintest hitch in your breath as her lips moved, her mouth leaving a trail of warmth in her wake. The sensation was dizzying, and every brush of her lips seemed to spark a little more heat between you, making it impossible to ignore her any longer.

One hand drifted from your hair to your shoulder, her fingertips brushing slowly down your arm before trailing back up, her touch deliberate and teasing. Her lips hovered at the nape of your neck, grazing softly as she whispered, “Can you please give me attention?” Her voice was a gentle plea wrapped in a sultry tease, her breath hot against your skin.

Her hands tightened slightly in your hair as her lips continued their trail, her kisses deepening as she left small, possessive marks—soft, warm reminders of her presence that lingered even after her lips moved. She pressed herself closer, the rhythm of the song matching the slow, deliberate beat of her heart. Her voice softened, and you could feel her smirk against your skin, an invitation that left little choice but to surrender to the pull of her touch.

Your resolve wavered as you glanced at her, but with a quick shake of your head, you refocused on your work. “Honey, I promise after I'm done, I'll give you all the attention you need, okay?”

Her lower lip jutted out in an exaggerated pout, the disappointment was almost comically dramatic. But she wasn’t ready to concede defeat. Instead, with a quick, determined stride, Liz slipped out of the kitchen and darted to your shared bedroom. She rummaged through the drawer, grabbing a fresh set of lacy undergarments, a mischievous glint in her eyes as she hid them behind her back. She returned to the kitchen, concealing the change of clothes with an innocent smile.

Rejoining you, Liz picked up a glass of water, a glint of mischief in her eye. She positioned herself close to you, pretending to take a casual sip, then with an exaggerated gasp and a theatrical tilt, she "accidentally" spilled the water down the front of her sweater and shorts, the cold splash soaking through the fabric and clinging to her curves beneath.

She let out a playful, shocked gasp, looking down at herself with wide eyes. “Oops!” she exclaimed, feigning innocence as she looked up at you, her eyes shining with mischief. “Looks like I made a mess…”

You looked up, eyebrows raised in amused disbelief. “Really?” you began, trying to keep your tone stern, but your amusement betrayed you.

Without missing a beat, Liz shrugged, flashing you a devilish smile as she reached for the hem of her soaked sweater. With an agonizing slowness, she pulled it off, letting the damp fabric slip over her shoulders and fall to the floor, leaving her in her wet shorts and a cute pink bra that hugged her so well. She shot you a glance, watching as your gaze lingered.

But she wasn’t done. Her fingers hooked under the waistband of her shorts, and with a teasing glance in your direction, she slid them down her hips, letting the fabric fall to the floor and leaving her in the matching soaked underwear. The damp material clung to her skin, accentuating every curve and had become almost see-through, revealing the soft contours beneath. It molded to her body, tracing every line and dip with delicate precision, hinting at the natural line between her legs. A small smile played on her lips as she noticed the faint shift in your expression, a silent acknowledgment of the effect she had on you.

She took a slow step forward, lifting her chin defiantly. “You sure you don’t want to help me out now?” she teased, raising an eyebrow as she tugged at the strap of her bra.

Your gaze followed the movement, and you chuckled, shaking your head even as your resolve began to waver. “You’re going to have to try harder than that,” you replied, though your tone softened, hinting at how close you were to giving in.

“Oh, I plan to,” she murmured, her voice a sultry whisper as she drew nearer. Her hands slipped behind her back, fingers deftly locating the clasp of her bra. In one smooth motion, she unhooked it, allowing the fabric to glide down her arms and pool at her feet, revealing her bare chest. Her eyes locked onto yours, challenging you to look away. But you couldn’t; your gaze lingered, tracing the contours of her form.

Then, with deliberate slowness, she turned around, her back to you as her hands slipped down to the waistband of her panties. She bent over slightly, just enough to give you a full, tantalizing view, as she peeled the wet fabric down her hips and thighs, letting it drop to her feet. Every movement was slow and intentional, and the sight left you speechless, torn between finishing your work and giving in.

Straightening up, she faced you once more, her cheeks slightly flushed but her eyes filled with confidence. Without a word, she reached for the fresh set of undergarments she had hidden, slipping into them as you watched, completely captivated.

Her lips curled into a sly smile as she met your gaze again. “Now… will you touch me?” she asked, her voice a soft plea wrapped in a sultry tease, her tone breaking the last of your resolve.

You chuckled, shaking your head with a hint of feigned restraint. “Later, I promise. If I don't finish this then I won’t have a job—and then I won’t be able to get you all those things you keep hinting about.” Your tone was steady, but your gaze betrayed you as it traced all over her body, revealing just how much of a struggle it was to stay focused.

Liz let out an exaggerated, melodramatic groan, her hands falling to her hips in mock defeat. “Fine, fine. Later, that's what you always say,” she said, pouting as she reluctantly stepped back, throwing you one last, imploring look.

Just then, your phone buzzed on the table, its insistent vibration shattering the playful silence. You stood up to answer, frustration flashing across your face as you paced back and forth, absorbed in the terse conversation. As you talked, Liz watched you, her own impatience simmering. The wait stretched on unbearably, her need for you now pulsing with an almost comical level of urgency. She could feel her determination solidifying.

Without uttering a single word, she rose from her seat, her movements fluid yet purposeful. She slipped into the sanctuary of the bathroom, closing the door softly behind her. The coolness of the tiles against her back was a contrast to the feverish heat that radiated from within. Leaning against the wall, she released a shaky breath, the ache between her thighs a relentless, pulsating demand for attention.

Her hands, trembling slightly with pent-up desire, began a slow descent down her body. They traced the contours of her hips, the familiar terrain now electrified with heightened sensitivity. Dipping between her legs, her fingers tentatively explored the heat that beckoned them. Her breath hitched as she grazed her sensitive skin, a jolt of pleasure coursing through her, but it was fleeting, a mere whisper of what she truly yearned for.

She pressed her fingers more firmly against herself, attempting to mimic the touch she so desperately needed from you. Her heart pounded in her chest, a staccato rhythm that matched the increasing tempo of her own hand. The tension within her coiled ever more tightly, each desperate stroke fueling the fire that threatened to consume her.

Yet, despite her best efforts, the release she sought remained maddeningly out of reach. Her self-administered caresses, though fervent, were a hollow imitation of the passion she craved. A soft desperate whimper escaped her lips, her head falling back against the unyielding wall as her body trembled with unmet need. Her fingers moved with increasing urgency, her breath quickening to short, sharp gasps, but the elusive wave of pleasure she sought continued to elude her, taunting her with its proximity.

"Come on… please…" she begged into the empty room, her voice a tremulous blend of desperation and frustration. She increased the pressure, her hips undulating against her own hand, but the crescendo she so desperately sought remained just beyond her grasp. Her fingers, now slick with her own arousal, were simply not enough to quell the storm within her.

Defeated, she withdrew her hand, her body still throbbing with an unsatisfied longing. Her breath came in shallow, ragged gasps, and a solitary tear of frustration tracked down her cheek. The realization hit her with a profound clarity: she needed you. Only you could extinguish the flame that raged unabated inside her.

Liz composed herself, the cool air of the bathroom doing little to temper the inferno that burned within. She emerged from the bathroom, her gaze immediately drawn to you. You sat at the table, the picture of calm repose after your phone call, contrasting to the turmoil that racked her. Without hesitation, she sprinted across the room, her need for you a palpable force that propelled her forward. She climbed onto your lap, her body pressing against yours, her desperation an unmistakable presence between you.

"I don't care about your work," she whispered, her voice raw with the remnants of her frustrated attempts at satisfaction. "I tried, but it's not enough. I need you."

The words hung in the air, raw and vulnerable, thickening the tension between you. She inched closer, the anticipation building with each heartbeat. Her breaths were shallow, her cheeks flushed, and when she lifted her hand toward your face, her intentions were unmistakable.

Her fingers trembled slightly as she brought them to your eyes, and you noticed the glistening sheen—a subtle but unmistakable sign of her arousal. The warmth radiating from her touch spoke volumes, the scent and sight of her desire making the air around you almost electric.

Slowly, she then slid her fingers past your lips, and you couldn’t suppress the soft gasp that escaped as the taste and warmth of her skin flooded your senses. The feel of her wet fingers against your tongue sent an electric pulse through you, one that lingered, intense and undeniable. Your eyelids fluttered closed, your breath hitching as you surrendered to the sensory overload she was offering.

Her fingers moved slowly, exploring the warmth of your mouth as if savoring every second. She traced the curve of your tongue, brushing lightly against the smoothness of your palate, each touch slow and deliberate, leaving a lingering warmth that was impossible to ignore. You felt her breath, hot and close, mingling with yours as her fingers coaxed a fire that echoed the rising tension between you. Your heart raced, each beat syncing with the throb of need that simmered just beneath the surface.

The heat in her core, which had moments ago felt unbearable, now flared into an intense blaze. With each passing moment, as her fingers remained enveloped in the warmth of your mouth, she could feel herself becoming more and more aroused. The wetness between her legs grew, a physical testament to her body's readiness. A soft moan escaped her lips as she imagined the culmination of their shared desire, the anticipation of what was to come next a sweet torture that promised to finally douse the unquenchable fire within.

Your eyes widened, reflecting a cocktail of surprise and mounting passion as Liz, with a fiery determination, began to move against you. Her hips swayed with an initial languidness, a slow burn that was quickly stoked into an intense flame. Each roll of her body was a word in an unspoken language, a plea for connection that was both physical and profoundly emotional.

Her lips, soft and insistent, blazed a trail down the column of your neck, marking you with the fervent passion of her need. The love bite she left just below your ear was a brand, a claim of intimacy that sent shivers down your spine. “Keep working for all I care, just let me use you.” she whispered, her voice a tremulous testament to her desperation. Her sentence trailed off into a moan as her hips found a rhythm that spoke of her urgency.

Liz’s body was a conduit of yearning, each movement an expression of her deep-seated desire. Her need was palpable, a force that seemed to vibrate through the very air around you. Your hands, initially steadying, now clung to her waist with an intensity that mirrored her own. Your breaths were short, sharp bursts of air as you wrestled with your own surging need, striving to maintain a semblance of control in the face of her unbridled passion.

But Liz, lost in the throes of her own longing, was beyond the point of patience. Her lips returned to your neck, leaving another love bite, a twin to the first, as she ground against you with increasing fervor. “Ugh forget what I said. Please help me out!” she whimpered, her voice cracking under the weight of her need. “I can’t take it anymore.”

It was the raw vulnerability in her voice that finally pierced your resolve. Your hands, now firm and decisive, gripped her hips, not to pull her closer but to lift her gently off your lap. You guided her toward the bed, a sanctuary where you could lavish upon her the care and attention she so desperately craved. Liz blinked in momentary confusion, her body still pulsing with unfulfilled desire. She had been so close to the edge, so ready to tumble over it with you.

“Okay” you murmured softly, your voice a soothing balm against her flushed skin as you cupped her cheek. Your thumb traced a gentle path across her heated flesh, a silent promise of the tenderness to come. “I didn't know it was this bad, I'm sorry for making you wait.” Your lips found hers in a kiss that was both a reassurance and a reawakening of her senses. “But I want to take care of you properly. This is all about you, baby.”

Liz’s breath hitched, her body quivering with a mixture of anticipation and a newfound sense of being cherished. As you guided her down onto the bed, your hands moved with a reverence that made her heart flutter. Each touch, each caress, was a testament to your desire to please her, to explore the depths of her need and satisfy it in a way that was as much about connection as it was about physical release.

Your lips continued their journey, leaving a trail of soft, deliberate kisses down her neck. You took your time, savoring the moment, as you kissed across her collarbone with a tenderness that made her feel both vulnerable and exquisitely seen. With gentle care, you unclasped her bra, revealing the stiff nubs breasts, the raw truth of her desire. Liz’s skin prickled under your touch, her breath coming in shallow gasps as she surrendered to the waves of anticipation that coursed through her.

In the quiet of the room, the world outside faded away, leaving only the two of you—a tangle of limbs and a tapestry of whispered yearnings. Your every move was deliberate, a dance of devotion that promised to worship every inch of her being. Liz felt overwhelmed, not just by the sensations that threatened to consume her, but by the depth of emotion that shone in your eyes. In this sacred space, she was not just a body to be claimed, but a soul to be revered.

As your lips continued their tender exploration, each kiss a vow of adoration, Liz surrendered to the exquisite surrender, knowing that in your capable hands, she would find not just the release she craved, but the connection she had been yearning for all along.

“I’ve got you, baby,” you whispered against her skin, kissing lower as your hands gently pressed against her thighs to ease them apart. “Let me take care of you.”

Liz whimpered softly, her fingers gripping the sheets as your lips grazed her inner thighs, teasing her with featherlight kisses. The anticipation was excruciating, the fire between her legs almost unbearable now. “Please,” she gasped, her hips shifting under your touch. “Please hurry up. I can’t wait…”

You looked up, eyes dark with intent but softened with affection. “I know, honey,” you murmured, voice soothing. “You don’t have to wait anymore.”

Slowly, you hooked your fingers around the waistband of her panties, slipping them down her thighs. As you pulled the fabric away, a glistening line of arousal connected it to her core, a raw, intimate sign of her need that sent a fresh wave of desire surging through you.

With that, you lowered your mouth to her most intimate area, beginning a slow, deliberate journey with your tongue that drew a sharp gasp from her lips. Liz's back arched off the bed as the first wave of intense pleasure washed over her, your name falling from her lips in a soft, breathless plea.

You savored every moment, taking in the taste and warmth of her, feeling the desperation in every tremor of her body. Your tongue moved with deliberate purpose, tracing slow, languid circles around her most sensitive spot before pressing in, tasting the raw sweetness of her arousal. The slight tang lingered on your tongue, a heady reminder of how close she was to unraveling.

With each flick and caress, you explored her rhythm, sensing exactly where to tease and where to soothe. You took her clit between your lips, sucking softly at first, then with increasing pressure, drawing a deep moan from her that resonated through your chest. Her hips arched instinctively, pressing against your mouth, silently begging for more. The slow, sensual rhythm built her higher and higher, and you felt her thighs begin to tremble on either side of you.

Liz’s hands fisted the sheets, her breath coming in short, uneven gasps as you intensified your pace. You could feel her holding back, teetering on the edge, her body taut and eager beneath you as your tongue worked her into a state of pure need. She had waited so long for this, imagined your touch from the moment she woke, and now, here you were, driving her wild with bliss.

“Please,” she whimpered, her voice a desperate plea. Her fingers found their way to your hair, tangling in it as she clung to you, her body quivering. “Don’t stop… Oh God, please don’t stop.”

You lifted your head just enough to murmur against her skin, the hum of your voice sending a shiver through her core. “I won’t, baby,” you whispered, lips brushing her, each word thick with intent. “I’m going to make you feel so good.”

Her soft cries grew louder as you continued, your tongue stroking over her, slow and unrelenting, each motion sparking new jolts of pleasure that left her gasping and releasing another desperate moan from her lips. Liz’s body arched sharply, her thighs tightening around you as the pressure intensified.

“Oh my…” she gasped, voice catching in her throat, her breath shallow and ragged. “I’m so close…”

“Go ahead, baby,” you murmured, your breath hot against her skin. “Cum for me.”

The words combined with a deep flick of your tongue, were all she needed. Her release crashed over her, consuming her in waves. Liz cried out, her body trembling violently, thighs quivering uncontrollably as the orgasm took hold. Her hands clenched the back of your head, pulling you impossibly close as her head threw back, each moan spilling from her lips a testament to the ecstasy you’d pulled her into.

But you didn’t stop. Your mouth remained on her, relentless and devoted, your tongue and lips letting her ride out every last bit of her orgasm. When her thighs started to press together, instinctively seeking some escape from the intensity, you hooked both hands between her legs, prying her open with gentle but steady pressure. Your fingers dug softly into the flesh of her inner thighs, holding her in place, ensuring she stayed completely vulnerable to every flick of your tongue.

Liz whimpered, her hips squirming under your firm hold, her body entirely exposed to your touch, with nowhere to hide from the sensations that were building within her. She tried to twist away, overwhelmed by the pleasure, but your hands kept her steady, her every movement restrained in the soft grasp of your fingers.

“I can’t… please… it’s too much…” she moaned, her hands weakly gripping your head, but even then, she knew the warm feeling in her core was still lingering. “Okay, maybe just one more.” She weakly let out, contradicting her own words.

The sensation between her legs was nearly unbearable, her breath coming in shallow, desperate gasps as your mouth moved over her, slow and torturous, each flick of your tongue igniting another spark of sensation. You let your lips close over her sensitive clit again, sucking softly, then firm enough to tug on the nub, until her body responded with a shuddering moan that sent a thrill through your being.

You let your mouth bring her closer and closer, feeling the growing tension in her thighs and the way her breathing became ragged. You stayed focused, your tongue moving with purpose, keeping her right on the edge.

“Oh… oh, please…” she gasped, her voice quivering as you increased the pressure, holding her open and vulnerable as her release built quickly, the intensity almost too much to bear.

With a particular lick, your tongue curved deep inside her, pressing against her walls as it moved, then you brought it back flicking over her clit repeatedly. She cried out, her body going rigid as the climax surged through her. Her toes curled, and her thighs trembled in your firm grasp, but you held her open, feeling the waves of pleasure pulse through her. Her juices enveloped your mouth as she shook uncontrollably, her hands gripping the sheets, breathless from the overwhelming bliss that crashed over her again and again. “Oh God… fuck! I-I’m cumming!” she cried, her voice breaking as her body convulsed beneath you, every nerve alight with intensity. The sensation was so powerful it left her undone, each convulsive tremor a testament to the pleasure coursing through her, leaving her utterly spent, yet deeply fulfilled.

You slowed your movements, letting your tongue soften as you felt the warmth of her release, helping her ride out the final waves of pleasure. Leaning in, you pressed gentle, reverent kisses along her pulsing, trembling folds, each one soft and deliberate, as if sealing in the pleasure that still coursed through her. With each kiss, you felt the last traces of her climax gradually ease, her body quivering under your touch.

When you finally pulled back, Liz collapsed onto the bed, her body still trembling, her breath coming in ragged gasps. She was completely spent, her mind foggy with exhaustion and the overwhelming afterglow of multiple orgasms.

You crawled up beside her, pressing soft kisses along her stomach, then moving to her chest, and finally finding her lips. The kiss was slow, tender, and filled with love. Liz melted into it, tasting herself on your lips, her body still shaking from the aftershocks. Yet amid that tremble was a warmth in her chest—a feeling of being so completely cherished that it nearly brought tears to her eyes.

“You’re so cute,” you whispered against her lips, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “I love you so much.”

“I love you too,” Liz murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. Her body felt heavy, exhausted from the overwhelming pleasure, and she could feel the exhaustion pulling at her.

You smiled softly, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “Take a nap baby, I’ve got you.”

Liz’s eyelids fluttered shut, her body relaxing completely into the bed. The last thing she felt was the warmth of your lips pressing a final kiss to her forehead before she drifted off into a deep, contented sleep. You bent down and pressed a delicate kiss to her forehead, your lips lingering there as you whispered, “Sleep well, my love.”

Carefully, you tucked the blanket tighter around her shoulders, making sure she was wrapped up securely, bundled in a loving warmth. You gently ran your hand over the curve of her waist, the lightest of touches, before pulling the blanket higher up around her neck, ensuring that no part of her would feel cold. It was as if you couldn’t stop yourself from wanting her to be as comfortable and protected as possible.

“You’re adorable,” you murmured softly, smiling as you leaned in to kiss her again, pressing your lips softly to the top of her head. “How did I get so lucky?”

Liz let out a soft, sleepy hum, shifting slightly under the blanket, but she remained blissfully asleep. Your heart fluttered at the sound, and you stood slowly, your movements quiet and gentle as you finally tore yourself away, knowing she was completely at ease.

With a reluctant sigh, you walked back to the kitchen, settling in front of your laptop once again. But after just a few minutes, your thoughts kept drifting back to Liz, still peacefully asleep just a room away. Every few moments, you glanced in her direction, your focus slipping from your work.

Why not work there? you thought.

After all, you could bring the laptop into the bedroom and be close to her while she slept. Quietly, you stood, gathering your laptop and slipping into the bedroom. There was a small table and chair near the window, just perfect for setting up your workstation. You set the laptop down carefully, keeping the light low to avoid disturbing Liz, and settled into the chair.

Now, from your spot, you could watch Liz sleep while you worked—something that made your heart feel a little fuller.

As you worked, you kept stealing soft glances at her, your heart warming every time you saw her peacefully tucked under the covers, her chest rising and falling in a slow, steady rhythm. You smiled to yourself, feeling a sense of comfort knowing you were nearby in case she needed you.

If I finish quickly… your fingers tapping efficiently at the keys.

Determined to wrap up your work, you focused more than you had all day, your motivation clear. You wanted nothing more than to slide back into bed beside Liz and hold her close.

Finally, after what felt like forever, you finished your last task. A quiet sigh of relief escaped your lips as you closed the laptop, your eyes immediately drifting back to the bed. With a content smile, you stood and tiptoed to the bed, careful not to wake her.

The moment you slipped under the covers beside her, Liz instinctively stirred, her body reacting to your presence even in sleep. Without waking, she shifted closer, wrapping her whole body around you. Her leg draped over yours, her arms encircling your waist, and she pressed her face against your neck, letting out a soft, contented sigh as she snuggled into you, as if she had been waiting for you to return all along.

Your heart swelled as you wrapped your arms around her, pulling her in even closer. You leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to the top of her head, your fingers gently stroking her back as she relaxed fully against you.

“There you are,” you whispered softly, your voice full of warmth and affection. “I missed you too, baby.”

Liz responded with a sleepy hum, her grip on you tightening just a little, her breathing slow and steady. Even in her dreams, she clung to you, her body instinctively seeking the comfort of your embrace. You smiled down at her, your chest filling with a deep sense of love and contentment. She fit so perfectly against you, as though you were two pieces meant to come together.

You settled into the pillow, feeling the steady rise and fall of her breathing against you. You weren’t at all sleepy, but you lay there with a smile, reveling in the warmth of being so close to her. The gentle rhythm of her breathing was comforting, and as you watched her peaceful face, you felt a wave of happiness wash over you. In that moment, everything felt perfect, and you couldn’t imagine wanting to be anywhere else. Wrapped up in each other, with the soft glow of the lights circling around you, everything was as it should be.

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starksweasley · 1 month ago

Text

Lake Day // Rhysand

Summary: In which you have a peaceful lake day with Rhysand and the Inner Circle (fluff)

Word Count: 1104

The sun was warm against your skin, the golden rays casting a glittering sheen over the lake. Laughter and screaming rang out from the water where Mor had just shoved Cassian off Azriel’s shoulders, sending a spectacular splash over anyone too close to the fray. Feyre, lounging on the shore with a smirk, passed you a berry from the basket she’d stolen earlier, her paint-streaked fingers brushing yours.

“Think you’re next,” she murmured, nodding toward Rhysand, who was currently wading toward you with a grin that spelled trouble. The water clung to his body, shimmering like liquid silver over the hard planes of his chest, making it impossible not to stare. His midnight eyes glimmered like the stars, locked on you in a way that made the rest of the world fade into static. You pretended not to notice, but the green bikini you’d worn was suddenly the only thing on your mind.

“You look like a water nymph,” he murmured when he reached you, his voice low enough that only you could hear. His fingers trailed over the bare skin of your waist, featherlight and reverent, his touch igniting little sparks that danced up your spine.

You rolled your eyes, even as heat crept up your neck. “Flattery won’t save you in the next round.”

“Sweetheart,” he murmured, leaning closer, his lips brushing your ear. “You’d need both Az and Cassian to take me down.”

Before you could retaliate, Cassian’s voice boomed across the lake. “Chicken rematch! Rhys, you and your girl better not chicken out again—pun intended.”

Rhys sighed dramatically, pulling you toward the deeper water as you complained. Ignoring your protests entirely, he bent slightly, grabbing you by the waist and hauling you up with ease. You squealed, your legs kicking reflexively as he tossed you over his shoulder like a sack of flour, striding into the lake with a laugh that matched the mischievous glint in his eyes. “Guess we’ll have to show them,” he said with mock resignation, but his smirk betrayed him. When he hoisted you onto his shoulders, his hands gripping your thighs with ease, you caught his subtle wink.

“You better not drop me,” you warned, trying to sound serious as Mor grinned from across the water.

“Never,” he said, his voice like velvet, warm and sure.

The game devolved into chaos, as expected, with Cassian attempting to topple you both with an enthusiasm that could only be described as barbaric. Water flew in every direction as shrieks of laughter filled the air, your hands gripping Rhys’s hair in a desperate attempt to steady yourself. “Hold still, you’re going to make me fall!” you cried, half-laughing, half-panicked, as Rhys steadied you with a firm grip on your thighs, his smirk unshakable.

“You think I’d let that brute win?” Rhys teased, dodging a wave sent your way by Cassian’s flailing arms. “Not a chance.”

When Cassian finally lunged with all his might, the inevitable splash came, pulling you both under in a whirlwind of bubbles. You surfaced with a gasp, water streaming down your face, only to find yourself in Rhys’s arms. He was grinning down at you, his hair dripping, his chest rising and falling with breathless laughter. “You okay, sweetheart?” he asked, brushing a strand of wet hair from your face.

“Barely,” you replied, laughing as he pressed a lingering kiss to your temple, his thumb stroking your cheek. The warmth of his touch and the sparkle in his eyes made it impossible not to smile.

By the time the sun began to sink toward the horizon, painting the sky in hues of orange and pink, the group had settled on the shore. Amren, perched regally on a rock with a drink in hand, pretended not to watch as Azriel offered Mor a rare, teasing smile. Mor, of course, was quick to retaliate with a cheeky quip about his brooding demeanor, causing even Azriel’s lips to twitch in amusement. Cassian was already halfway through a pile of snacks, crumbs on his chest as he loudly accused Rhys of cheating in the earlier game, his dramatic gesticulations sending Feyre’s basket of berries rolling. Feyre scowled at him, reaching out to rescue the fruit, though her expression softened when he gave her an exaggerated pout.

“You’re like a child,” she said, shaking her head, though her voice held a note of fondness.

“A very charming child,” Cassian shot back, popping another berry into his mouth before winking at Amren. “You agree, don’t you?”

Amren rolled her eyes, muttering something about “idiots” as she took a sip of her drink, though the corner of her mouth twitched in what might have been a smile.

Rhysand was lying on his back, stretched out languidly on the soft blanket spread over the shore, with you curled into his side. Your head rested on his chest, rising and falling with the steady rhythm of his breath, and one of his arms draped around your waist, holding you close as though you might slip away. His fingers traced lazy patterns on your arm, the light touch sending shivers down your skin, while his other hand tangled in your damp hair, twisting and smoothing the strands idly. Every so often, his thumb would graze over your shoulder, lingering just long enough to make your heart flutter. The warmth of his body beneath you and the subtle, grounding pressure of his touch made you feel impossibly safe.

“You wore that just to distract me, didn’t you?” he murmured, tilting his head to catch your eyes. His voice was rich, filled with a teasing warmth that matched the sunlight filtering through the trees.

You smirked, pressing a finger to his chest. “You’re awfully distracted for someone who’s supposedly all-powerful.”

“Only around you.” His lips brushed yours softly, the kiss lingering just long enough to leave your heart stuttering. When he pulled back, his gaze softened, his free hand cupping your cheek as though he couldn’t bear to stop touching you.

“You know,” he murmured, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, “I think I’ll have to find a green bikini for you in every shade imaginable. You’ve officially ruined me.”

You laughed, swatting at his chest as he chuckled, the sound low and endlessly affectionate. “Ruined you? Hardly. You’re still incorrigible.”

“And madly in love,” he added, his fingers sliding back up to toy with the ends of your hair. He pressed another kiss to your forehead before pulling you closer, the quiet hum of your friends’ chatter mingling with the steady rhythm of his breathing. If this wasn’t perfect, you weren’t sure what was.

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willows-peak · 11 months ago

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thinking about geto for tonight

normally he always wants to fuck you while you're on your back, so he can watch your eyes roll up while he's drilling himself inside of you. but the uncertainty you'd feel when he took you from behind, any movement he makes drawing gasps from your lips or making your back arch down into the sheets was simply too good to pass up.

especially with how long he could draw this moment out, the one where he'd spread open your lips and groan at how wet you'd gotten, leaving a light kiss against you before repositioning himself and lining up his swollen tip with your hole. he always took his time pushing inside of you, rubbing small, slow circles across your pussy with his tip while you'd breathily call his name, his cock jumping in response to your voice.

"getooouu, don'....teasssee" you'd whine with that desperate, needy tone of yours, pushing your butt back against him to try and push him inside of you. really, how could he ever take you seriously like this? with your stomach laid against the bed, thighs spread wide open enough for him to feel how you eagerly clenched down whenever he began to work his cock inside you, only to drag it back out and continue to gather wetness along his length, rubbing his shaft up and down your cunt teasingly.

and, of course, when he did finally shove himself inside of you, his cock throbbing *hard* at the loud moan you let out, accompanied by the deep ache of your cunt surrounding his dick. you were always sooo fucking tight around him, squeezing every ounce of pre cum out from his cock while you started to rock your hips back against him almost instantly, not having the patience to wait for getou to start moving.

unluckily, geto had enough patience to spare for the both of you, so he'd hold your hips still with his big, thick hands, rubbing his thumb across the soft flesh while he listened to you moan in annoyance. "getooouu, come on, move already" you'd rasp out, your face scrunched with displeasure as you looked back at getou's peaceful expression.

and he would only say "like this?" before leaning down against your back, chest pressed firmly onto your shoulder blades while his mouth rested by the shell of your ear. you flopped back down against the pillow tucked underneath your head when his hips rocked up inside you, hitting deeper yet not deep enough, *so* close to what you needed to feel.

he'd drag this out as much as he wanted to, lazily thrusting inside of you when he starts feeling generous, his pointer finger running up along the base of your spine while his cock is filling you up so well. his hand coming to the root of your hair and gently running it up your scalp, spinning a strand of hair around his finger while he listens to you moan from the thick feeling of his dick.

the slow, almost grind of his length inside of you was mind-numbing in itself, being forced to feel every single vein and ridge being dragged along your sensitive walls, being hyperaware of the stretch your pussy had to make to take him, being aware of the lewd wet sounds every thrust made, your wetness seeping down your inner thigh at a snail's pace.

you couldn't decide on what to focus on, even if you tried. every time you attempted to speak, your mouth could only make slurred out moans of getou's name while he took on a pitying tone in your ear, pampering your neck with small kisses as he talked to you. "yeah? that feel good, pretty girl?" as he angled his hips down, moaning into your ear from how you'd pulse around him at the new position.

he knew exactly where to hit, and he'd abuse every spot inside you until you were puddy in his hand. only then, when you're drooling into the pillow and completely lax in his grasp, he'd fuck you properly, and he wouldn't stop until the both of you were satisfied.

#jjk #jjk x reader #jujustu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x you #jjk smut #getou x reader #geto x reader #getou suguru x reader #suguru geto #jujutsu kaisen geto #jjk geto #this was spurred by his dub voice because #dont lie to urself he sounds hot #like when he said “yeah? did he die? I'm not so sure”#i was 2 seconds from jumping him

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jasmineandcedar · 2 months ago

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You already have me

Azriel's confession

An Elriel one shot (Elain’s POV)

In which Azriel resorts to poetry and confesses his devotion to Elain.

Warning: sexual content (not explicit)

-----

The moon hung high in the night sky, casting a cool, pearly glow over the river house. Moonlight spilled through the windowpanes like liquid silk, painting every contour in shades of blue and silver. Even the shadows seemed to take on hues of deepest indigo, pooling in every corner like dark ink.

Elain stepped into her room, pausing at the threshold and closing her eyes. A gentle breeze stirred the curtains, carrying with it the deep scent of night-chilled mist and cedar. She didn’t need to open her eyes to know he was there. Tilting her head slightly, a faint smile bloomed across her face. Tonight, that familiar scent was laced with something darker, wilder.

When Elain finally opened her eyes, they found his at once.

Azriel stood by the window, half veiled in shadows, the moonlight catching on his dark hair like the silvery gleam of a raven’s wing.

They watched each other in silence. For silence was their language—the language of the unspoken longing that clung to the air around them, between them, in every space they shared.

Elain noticed then, the freshly picked flowers resting on her pillow—delicate and pale blossoms of the same shade of white as her nightgown—like silver moonlight woven into bloom. She crossed the room on light steps, her bare feet gliding over the cold, polished floor. The thin, lacy fabric of her nightgown danced over her skin with every step.

Without breaking Azriel’s gaze, she trailed her fingertips over the bedding, feeling the crisp linen beneath her touch. Finally, she lowered her eyes to carefully pick up the pale flowers. Bringing them to her nose, she let the sweet scent of jasmine envelop her. Her heart clenched as she felt the ache of his longing in the fragile petals.

He had thought of her.

“They’re lovely,” she said quietly.

It was a bittersweet, intimate gesture—a piece of his inner world, offered in secret defiance of the outer world’s attempts to keep them apart. The anguish of it all twisted something deep inside her, reigniting that dull, persistent ache that threatened to consume her if she dwelled on it.

Elain beheld the flowers for a long time, gently twirling the fragile stems between her fingers and savouring their subtle scent as the night stretched around them.

She took a deep breath, then whispered into the stillness of the night.

“It should have been you.”

Azriel didn’t speak, but Elain knew the intensity in his gaze was edged with unspoken desire. It was raw, unguarded, just like she knew he was beneath those shadows that hid him.

She finally met his gaze and held it, well aware he needed her to. Azriel made no effort to hide the pain in his eyes—the pain that mirrored her own. There had never been any pretense between them, no veil to obscure the cruelty of their fate.

The room fell still again—into a heavy, intimate tranquility that held all that unspoken desire between them. The only sound was the peaceful hum of the breeze stirring the curtains, like a sigh of longing from the night itself.

When Elain spoke again, her words were as fragile as the flower stems she still held between her fingertips.

“What would you do?” she asked, barely more than a whisper. The question hung in the air like morning’s mist. “If it had been you?”

Words she had carried in her heart for too long—the heart that pounded against her ribcage, like the desperate wingbeats of a caged bird.

Azriel’s gaze thawed, the tension in his features melting into warmth.

“I would cherish you,” he said at last, his tone hoarse, as if the words scraped against the rawness of his heart.

He pushed off the windowsill in one seamless motion—like a shadow detaching from a wall. He approached her with a measured grace, the space between them narrowing with each step until Elain could feel the heat radiating from his body.

“But my intentions go far beyond that,” he said in a voice soft as night.

Azriel stopped in front of her, so close she could feel the warmth of his breath caress her skin. His gaze cradled hers, as it always had, uncovering all the truths she hid from the world around them.

“Should you allow it, I would revere every inch of you,” Azriel murmured in a quiet, intimate whisper. “I would fall to my knees, and worship every curve, every freckle kissed by the sun—until you see the beauty I see every time I look at you.”

That gaze that cradled hers didn’t waver. Neither did hers.

With aching reverence, Azriel let his fingers glide down her arm, skimming over the thin fabric of her nightgown. Elain felt the warmth of his touch seep through the light fabric, sinking into her skin. Her pulse fluttered wildly, every beat an echo of where his touch had been.

“I would whisper praise against your skin,” he breathed, his devotion etched in every syllable. “Until you ache for what I long to give you.”

Azriel lifted a hand and slowly swept her hair behind her shoulder. His eyes flickered down, tracing the elegant line of her neck, bared to the cool night air—and to the heat of his gaze. When that gaze met hers again, it was a molten swirl of embers and emeralds.

“Only then would I unveil you fully to me,” he murmured, that hazel swirl locked on her. “Until there was nothing between us.”

His eyes drifted back to her exposed skin, and Elain felt a flush of warmth spread in the wake of his gaze. Azriel’s fingers traced the finespun neckline of her nightgown where the fabric met her skin. He eased the thin lace aside, baring the small dip of her collarbone. Elain felt as vulnerable as the petals still in her grasp, yet beneath his touch, she had always found a sanctuary. Her faint gasp filled the air between them as Azriel lowered his head, his lips brushing her skin as softly as the beat of a butterfly's wing. Elain's eyes drifted shut, and the sensation washed over her like the first touch of sunlight after the darkest of nights.

“I would reveal your beauty inch by inch,” Azriel murmured, carefully easing the nightgown off her shoulder. “And show you the depth of my devotion.”

Elain shivered when the cool night air kissed her bare skin, but then his lips followed, warm and soft, as he pressed them to the gentle curve of her shoulder.

“I would adorn your skin with the kisses you deserve,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to her collarbone, lingering as if to etch the memory of it into his very being, “and commit your perfection to memory.”

Elain’s fingers found the fabric of Azriel’s shirt, soft against the unyielding strength beneath. She clutched it tightly, like the roots of a plant cling to the earth.

He pressed his lips to the side of her neck. Elain felt her pulse flutter beneath his lips, beating like a delicate bird’s wings. He traced a slow, reverent path of kisses up the graceful curve of her neck. When his lips brushed the sensitive spot just below her ear, a shiver rippled through her.

Elain took a small step towards him, her body instinctively seeking him, and Azriel moved with her, as shadows move with the sun.

“And when I finally take you,” he whispered against her skin, his longing carried on the heat of his breath, “I will listen for every catch in your breath, drink in every gasp, savour every moan.”

Elain's head fell back as she surrendered to his touch—as if the weight of his words alone could unravel her. The room seemed to hold its breath with her when he trailed kisses along her jaw.

“I will learn the song of your body,” Azriel murmured, voice low and thick with desire. “Uncover the secrets of your skin.”

He pressed another kiss to her neck, so tenderly it stole the air from her lungs. Then his lips lingered again at that spot just below her ear, unmoving, as if he were listening for those secret confessions her body whispered to him alone.

“Until I know you more intimately than I know myself.”

Azriel swept one hand into her hair, his fingers weaving through the silken waves of golden brown. He tilted her head to the side, revealing the delicate slope of her neck, in a gesture that was both a plea and a command. Elain’s chest rose in a shivering gasp, but she arched her neck further in silent answer. Azriel dipped his head lower, brushing his lips to the hollow of her throat, before trailing featherlight kisses up her sensitive skin, pausing just beneath her jaw where her pulse thrummed with secret need.

Elain felt him inhale with her.

“Until I hold your pleasure in my hand,” Azriel said on the exhale. “And you’re trembling beneath me, yearning for release.”

He drew closer still, so close that his lips brushed her ear.

“And when that moment comes,” he promised, and Elain tightened her grip on his shirt, “I will I let you come undone in my arms.”

He pulled back slightly, just enough to cradle her gaze in his again. The moonlight caught the gold flecks in his hazel eyes, making them glow like embers in the dark, smoldering with a heat that could devour them both if they surrendered to it.

Azriel slanted his lips over hers in the ghost of a kiss. Elain felt the world around her shrink into this singular, sacred point of contact—where his breath became hers, her every inhale a plea, every exhale a yielding surrender.

“And when you come undone,” he said, his lips so close to hers that Elain felt the tremble of every syllable, “it will be with my name on your lips.”

“Azriel,” Elain breathed, the sound slipping out of her in a faint, desperate plea that carried all the unspoken longings of her fluttering heart.

“Just like that,” he whispered against her lips, his voice raw and broken with a need that echoed her own.

They lingered there, their breaths entwined in the shared rhythm of that silent song only they seemed able to hear—as if they had always moved to the same quiet cadence of life.

Azriel’s hand remained in her hair, his fingers threading gently through her silken curls. His free hand moved to cup her cheek, before coming to rest at the base of her neck. His thumb drew slow, soothing strokes along her skin, in the way his touch always spoke of a quiet devotion language could never capture. Elain’s fingers were still curled into the fabric of his shirt, clinging to the steady warmth of his body that grounded her beating heart.

“It should have been you,” Elain repeated desperately, voice quivering on an inhale as if the air itself was too heavy. “It would have been you.”

That gaze that cradled hers softened again, smoldering heat giving way to that tenderness that made her chest tighten. He cupped her face between his hands, embracing her as if she were the most precious thing he had ever held.

“You already have me,” he said at last, before leaning down to press a kiss to her lips—like a seal to his silent vow.

#elriel #elriel drabble #elain archeron #azriel #elriel fanfic #azrielappreciationweek2024

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animeyanderelover · 9 months ago

Note

Hey! I love your writing!

Could i request headcanons of Yandere Douma with a member of the eternal paradise cult that has never asked him for anything despite the fact he's essentially their god. They assume hes probably stressed hearing and trying to fix other people's problems all the time so they never ask him to fix their life but theyre a diligent worshipper and helper around the cult.

Tw: Yandere themes, toxic relationship, possessive behavior, obsession, delusional behavior, clinginess, manipulation, sadism, isolation

Tags: @leveyani @kanaosprotector

It must be tough to be a god

❄️What others may only see as utter terror if they would know what is going on behind closed shoji doors is viewed as an act of kindness by Douma. The consumption of his followers is a sign of mercy and kindness as he frees them from their pitiful and pathetic human lives by devouring them. How can those creatures not be tormented by their own existence after all? Their bodies age and decay, their beauty vanishes and in the greater order of things they are flies just waiting to be swatted away and to be forgotten. Needless to say, he looks at your kind with rather condescending opinions yet such thoughts only convince him further of his good deeds. He lends them an ear when they seek him out, desperate and in agony, their heart shackled with chains only he can take off. He has always listened and given words of comfort and as empty as they may be, they latch on them like a leech does on human skin.

❄️You are one of many faces in his cult, one that should be meant to be forgotten when your time eventually comes. Through hard word and sheer dedication though, you have earned yourself a position where you spend more time with Douma than the average follower. It is a honor you humbly accept as you work earnestly to do your assigned duty and the expectations of everyone justice. You gladly accept all compliments given to you by other worshipper in the cult yet Douma's words of gratitude are the ones that make your heart race the most, although you never let those sweet words get to your head. You believe that one shouldn't slack off because of kind words and compliments and that one should work hard and do their best every day to achieve self-control and inner peace. You fulfill your duties remarkably well and always look out if Douma should need something which you will then promptly arrange for him.

❄️He praises you for your diligent performance and your hard work yet those words do not match his low thoughts. Douma is quite used to seeing little things like you who would do everything for him in hopes of gaining his attention and his affection. Surely you must be the same. A desperate, little thing who is prying for his love by working so exceptionally hard. He has always entertained such pathetic feelings as it is his duty to cater to the worries of his followers and he thinks that it is time for him to reward you too. What is it that your heart desires most right now? Tell him and he'll see it through to fulfill that little wish of yours. He expects you to utter the common wish of wanting his affection and attention, of the forbidden desire to be claimed by him, even if just for one night. Yet you don't fall for his seductive tone and the temptation of his body so close to yours as you express to him that you have no other wish than continuing to serve him loyally as you have done all this time before.

❄️Your response puzzles the demon as he has never received such an answer to his offer. He makes no attempt to stop you though as you distance yourself from his body and excuse yourself before heading out, though he tilts his head curiously as his colorful eyes move with you until you are out of his sight. It is only after you have left that Douma fully recognises what has happened and as soon as he has realised, he can't help but let out a rather excited giggle. You denied his offer. You rejected him! Maybe if any of his other followers would have known about your behavior they would have ganged up on you to punish you for your rude and dismissive behavior. Yet the emotions rushing through Douma's veins are far from displeased in that moment as he finds himself rather curious and thrilled all of a sudden as he has never had someone treat him the way you just treated him. It is only the start of his obsession.

❄️Suddenly you find yourself as the unfortunate target of almost all of his obsession as his attention is solely fixed on you. Boredom has been his only true companion that has always been with him even during his human years yet for the first time in his life he is experiencing something that isn't just a shallow and fleeting emotion. For the first time he sees a bit more worth in a human than what he normally thinks of them and it is rather thrilling to feel. Douma always appears in the places where he knows you are at the moment and successfully distracts you from your duties, quite displeased when you don't give all of your attention to him. You can feel his eyes on you even if you don't face him though and even if you are a dutiful worshipper, you tend to feel a bit creeped out by his behavior. He can't seem to hold out even a minute without asking you something or interrupting you otherwise as the feeling of boredom returns as soon as you don't pay attention to him.

❄️Despite the rather childish and clingy attitude he suddenly expresses when he is around you, Douma is still quite observant. The demon is aware that you only tolerate this behavior of his because he is the leader of this cult. If it would have been anyone else, you would have given them already an earful. He wonders how far he can take this? If he would have been an honorable man, he would have felt guilty for suddenly abusing his power over you to invade your privacy, to touch you and to downright molest you at times. He isn't though and he will never be. He takes delight in listening how your heartbeat always picks up when he touches you, his hands lingering as they slowly rub up and down your body and watching how you can only uncomfortably squirm whilst his hands linger. You are normally always rather composed and calm so it is quite fun to be the reason for you to lose your facade. Perhaps he can coax you into requesting something special of him if he shows you his interest so boldly.

❄️You remain unwilling to ask anything of him even as he continues expressing his interest in you through caresses and touches which soon has Douma wondering if you keep something from him. All of his followers have worries and wishes they confess to him yet only you have never made use of his services. Do you not trust him? Is that it? As fun and exciting your different attitude is, if you don't trust him that is a little bit of an issue that bothers Douma the more he thinks about it. He finds himself being rather straightforward this time without playing around as he asks you this question as soon as you have appeared before him due to him having sent for you. It is quite hard to decipher his true feelings as he still keeps a grin on his face, although his eyes are sharp and intense as he expects an answer from you. You see yourself pressured to answer his question, watching nervously as he tilts his head before he suddenly lets out an amused chuckle.

❄️Your answer is just as adorable as you, you know? It is quite interesting that you have such silly worries, although he does feel quite flattered to know that you care that much about him. Though you should know that it is quite frustrating for him as you don't open up to him as much as all other followers yet it is you he has the most interest in. Be assured that it would sadden him more if you were to keep secrets and thoughts away from him. Those friendly words of his still hold a silent demand for you to open up all of your thoughts for him because Douma finds himself slowly feeling impatient that you keep such a wonderful mind away from him. If you still dare to hold on to your unwanted worries and deny him, you'll have to live with the punishment he as your god will give you. If you do not give him what he desires, he'll get it himself. There is a lot you don't know about each other after all but he'll be happy to share all of his secrets with you and find out all of yours in return.

#yandere demon slayer #yandere kimetsu no yaiba #yandere kny #yandere douma #yandere x you #kny x you

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jjasen · 2 years ago

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sleepless nights

summary: the happenings of when you and Rafe are the only ones up late at night

warnings: smut, minors do not interact, 18+

word count: 1.5k

a/n: reader is Sarah’s best friend; so sorry i’ve been mia for a bit!! i hope you all enjoy ❀

It’s late when you pad into the kitchen of Tannyhill. The sound of water filling your glass almost echoes throughout the house and you hope that nobody wakes up. Before returning to Sarah’s room, you settle atop the marble counter of the kitchen island. It’s peaceful at this time of night, when everybody but you is dead to the world, and you can have a few moments of silence to yourself.

Until you hear someone else traipse into the kitchen. “What are you doing up?” Rafe asks. He leans back on the counter opposite you and gives you a lazy smile.

You shrug. “Couldn’t sleep,” you whisper. He nods, and a few moments pass in quiet companionship before he steps closer to you.

“You know what helps me fall asleep?” he asks. There’s a glint in his eyes that makes you shiver despite the warm summer night, as if he sees you, suddenly, for more than just his little sister’s best friend. You’re painfully conscious of the fact that you’re wearing only a thin cotton camisole and sleep shorts as Rafe stares at you unabashedly.

You bite your bottom lip nervously. “What?”

He grins and leans over you, his long arms on either side of your body, caging you in. He smells good, like sandalwood and something warm, some sort of spice, maybe.

“Sex,” he answers.

You intake a breath sharply and can feel your heart pounding, a flustered warmth blooming in your chest. His hand is on your thigh, rubbing circles with his fingertips, and you feel sparks fly over your skin at his light touch.

“Rafe,” you whisper, “we shouldn’t.” It’s a half-hearted attempt, really, you know that he won’t stop until he gets his way. He moves his hand even further up your leg to brush his fingers over the softness of your inner thigh, and you gasp, but make no bid to move away.

“I know you’re just as desperate to touch me as I am,” he whispers, his gaze intense, lustful. “Tell me I’m wrong. Look me in my eyes and tell me I’m wrong.” You exhale slowly and allow him to brush his thumb over your jaw, peering up at him from under your lashes. Your eyes down flit to his lips, and a smile tugs on the corner of his mouth. “That’s what I thought,” he says, before leaning down to kiss you.

He’s insistent and rough. Possessive, even. He kisses you as if he wants to consume you, as if it isn’t enough to just touch you, as if he must devour you whole. It’s strangely arousing, the way his carnal desire makes your core stir sinfully. His teeth skim along your skin as he presses hot, open-mouthed kisses along your jaw, and his hands run over your waist down to your thighs. You part them instinctually, your hands tangled into his hair, and you gasp shallowly for air.

Rafe pulls back to admire you. Your mouth is parted and deliciously swollen, your hair is mussed, your eyes glazed over, and reddened marks are beginning to bloom across your neck in a way that makes him achingly hard. You sigh his name and he hardens further still. The heat of his skin searing, sparks shiver down your spine when Rafe shimmies the lace of your panties down your thigh. He runs his fingers between your legs over your slick entrance and grasps your waist, gazing intently into your eyes. The brilliant blue of his stare has heat flushing up to your cheeks and your teeth sinking into your lower lip. You rock your hips against his hand.

“Do you like this?” he asks. He brushes over your swollen clit.

“Yes,” you breathe, trembling.

“Good, because I like it too,” he says roughly, thrusting his fingers in. You gasp and throw your head back, moaning in pleasure and trembling, your hands scratching along his broad back. His thumb grazes teasingly over your clit and with his other hand he cups your breast, dragging his fingers over your nipples under the thin cotton of your camisole. Kissing up the column of your neck, Rafe runs his tongue along your jawline as he tastes your skin, salty-sweet. With each dip of his fingers curling into just the right spot, you gasp louder and louder until you come all over him. Quaking in your orgasm as pure bliss radiates up your spine, the sight of Rafe’s smug smile and his warm, heavy-lidded stare is almost too much and you clench around his fingers again.

Sliding his fingers out of you and into his mouth, the way he’s gazing at you whilst tasting you on his tongue, sinfully, a wicked gleam in his eyes, has you squirming beneath him, heat blooming into your cheeks. You look away, embarrassed, and he uses his free hand to tilt your chin up.

“Eyes on me,” he rasps, “I want to see your face when I fuck you.”

You are at a loss for how to respond to his words, the pure filth of his desire causing a shiver of excitement to run down your spine. “Okay,” you whisper, looking up at him through your lashes. Your innocuous, doe-eyed gaze only serves to increase Rafe’s lust, and he palms his cock before allowing you to slip your fingers beneath the band of his boxers.

You stroke his length gently, a little intimidated by his size and circumference, your hand barely able to wrap around its delicious warmth. He hisses, drawing air between his teeth, and grabs your wrist, forcing you to relinquish your grasp on his cock.

“Keep doing that and I’ll come right here,” he says, his breath hot on your cheek, before sliding on a condom and thrusting into you.

Rafe is no gentleman. He’s hungry, greedy, as he pounds into you roughly, his thick cock stretching you deliciously, all the while whispering filthy encouragements into your ear. The cool marble of the kitchen island is punishingly hard against your back, and yet you have never felt such intense pleasure.

You claw at the rippling muscles of his biceps with your free hand, the other frantically circling your clit. His arms cage you in as he holds himself up with one flexing forearm, the other curled so that his hand tangles into your hair. His eyelids flutter with pleasure and he almost has to force them open so that he doesn’t miss a moment of your arousal. The way you part your lips and bite down on your lower lip to muffle your lustful whimpers has him dangerously close to his release, and he fucks into you faster, harder.

“You wanna come, sweetheart?” Rafe pants, his thrusts getting sloppier, but still pounding into that spot that has your eyes rolling up to the back of your head.

“Don’t make me beg,” you whine, so close to the edge.

“I’m not going to. But we both know that you would do it if I told you too.” He’s smirking into the searing kisses he’s pressing to your collarbone, all too pleased with himself. You shake your head at him as best as you can manage while getting thoroughly fucked, but you know he’s right.

With a final, shallow thrust and a cry of, “Oh, shit!”, Rafe comes, biting down into your neck to muffle his groans. At the sensation of his teeth piercing your skin, the searing pain rapturous to your nerve endings, your orgasm washes over you in a haze of euphoric bliss. You can feel his spent cock twitch inside of you as you clench around his length over and over again, pure pleasure rocketing up your spine.

Panting softly, Rafe pulls out of you and briefly rests his forehead on yours, this inconsequential action somehow more intimate than the sex. All too soon, he gets up to tread back upstairs to his room, leaving you to clean up your mess alone. His absence makes the kitchen feel even larger, the house more quiet, and there’s an ache of disappointment in your chest. Only then do you begin to worry about what will happen if Sarah finds out, what you will tell her. When you return to her room, she is still fast asleep. Relieved, you slip back under the covers.

Sun streams through the window and it’s so late you aren’t sure it’s morning anymore when you awaken. Stretching and yawning, the throbbing ache in your legs is a harsh reminder of the events of last night. Sarah is already up; she’s running a brush through her honey-blonde hair in the bathroom adjoined to her room.

“Someone slept in,” she remarks nonchalantly. “Rafe made crêpes, I saved you a few.” You smile despite yourself, and drag yourself out of bed to wash your face. Running a hand through your hair, you pull it back into a ponytail and accidentally brush over the bite Rafe left on your neck and wince. Sarah notices from the mirror and glances at you, frowning slightly.

“Is that...a bite mark?”

Shit.

#rafe x reader #rafe smut #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron smut #rafe cameron #rafe x you #rafe fanfiction #rafe cameron outer banks #jjasewrites

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bwat5-blog · 1 month ago

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Always With You: Vi and Jinx Part 2

**Spoilers for All of Arcane**

The beginning of season two picks up with the direct aftermath of the cataclysmic event that concluded season 1. We have followed the tale of these sisters as their lives were torn apart by greed and violence. We watched as Vi threw herself headfirst at every obstacle trying to get back to Jinx, and as Jinx battled her inner demons and the manipulations of those around her. We watched them coming so close to reuniting, only for it all to fall apart.

Season two leads directly into the aftermath of that end, with Vi no longer able to deny who her sister has become, and Jinx feeling that she has finally lost everyone and everything.

Adrift:

Vi-

In the aftermath of Jinx's attack on the Piltover Council, Vi is holding on by a thread. Seven years spent dreaming of getting back to Powder, making things right, being a family again. And instead she found that her sister had become something darker, and far more dangerous...Jinx. Her every attempt at saving her had failed and to make things even worse, by convincing Caitlyn not to shoot at Jinx, that mercy had repaid by Jinx's attack, killing Caitlyn's mother.

Vi tells Caitlyn she has to go with them to apprehend her sister, but balks when Caitlyn tells her the only way is to become an Enforcer. Even with all that has happened Vi will not wear the uniform that symbolizes so much loss and pain for both she and her people. She only relents after the attack on the memorial, when is no longer any chance of peace.

Now, obviously we are focusing on the relationship between Vi and Jinx, but Vi's time as an enforcer is the driving incident in she and Jinx's next big encounter, so let’s take a moment and talk about "Enforcer Vi"

This part of her story has drawn a lot of criticism of her character, with her being called everything from a traitor, to a bootlicker and worse. I have seen people suggest she simply did it for the crush she has on Cait, who she has only known for a short time, or because she gave up on her sister. However, when we take the entire picture in account, what we find is not a woman betraying her last living family for a "schoolgirl" crush. We find a woman who defines herself by her fight for those she loves, grasping desperately at the last fleeting options left to her:

Retaliation from Piltover is coming. That is not a question, and it is not a debate. Especially after the attack on the memorial. The strike team is an alternative to a full scale invasion.

2. Caitlyn shares her fears with Vi that if she goes after Jinx alone, one of them will die. Remember what I said, Vi is trying desperately to hold on to the last few options she has left to protect those she loves. She feels both responsible for what Jinx has done, and guilty for what she became, as well as loving and wanting to protect Caitlyn. and Caitlyn is telling her one of them will die if Vi does not go. For someone like Vi who places all her self-worth in her ability to protect, there is only one choice

3. "You Don't Get To Be Selfish".. putting on the uniform of an Enforcer is a violation of Vi's very person. They took her parents from her, they were the source of fear and oppression throughout her years with Vander, and they were the source of abuse and pain in Still Water. To wear their symbol and commit violence in the streets of her childhood is a violation of everything Vi believes. So why do it? To protect Caitlyn, and because no matter the outcome, no matter what it means at the end, no matter how badly it hurts Vi, she sees this as her last way to honor her responsibility to her sister, even if she can't save her

Side Note: Before we move on to Jinx during this period, a small reminder. I and many others have touched on this a lot, but the fandom has entirely lost their minds regarding the actions of the strike team.

The use of the grey while disturbing, and a perversion of Caitlyn's families good works, is not nearly what people have made it out as. It’s not Sarin. We see many, many characters exposed to it some for lengthy periods and no one has died. As Vi explains, they used it to clear the streets to try and keep innocents out of the fighting. And as Jinx's favorite routine is to blow things up, this seems reasonable.

The Strike team goes into Zaun with 3 objectives. Dismantle shimmer, apprehend Jinx, and eliminate agents still loyal to Silco. So, in essence, catch and destroy chem barons who are still trying to control the undercity through violence and drugs, destroy an illegal highly addictive drug operation that mutates many of its users, and apprehend the woman who at this point has proven herself to be unquestionably a threat.

Jinx:

In the wake of all that has happened, Jinx is alone. Every person who has ever been close to her, has died or left. In the wake of Silco's death the barons have fallen to infighting and the undercity is in chaos. Vi is gone, again. And her attack on the council has brought the wrath of Piltover down on the undercity, prompting a call for her to be turned over to them. She has given up. During her first meeting with Isha, what does she say to the little girl she just saved?-

"you feel it.. that buzzing behind your eyes? Because you know in a moment it could all.. pow!.. best feeling in the world"

She then gestures to the wanted poster of her saying "that's me, you ever need to curse a sibling, a family or a society.. my card!"

Vi's loss is easier for us to connect to. It's not that she hasn't made mistakes, but her motivation and her intention are unclouded by the issues Jinx has. Her motivations and feelings right or wrong, are much more straightforward.

Jinx is different. Everything from her cocky theatrical attitude to her clothing is loud and dramatic ,and it all draws attention away from the absolutely crushing pain this tortured young woman is going through. Until now. No Silco, no hex-tech, no Vi.. wandering alone through the undercity with no one to perform for.. And what has she told us? She is ready to die, and she has cursed everyone and everything in her life.

When Sevika asks her plan, she responds "Let it all burn"..

This only changes when the strike team comes for her. We see the heart wrenching reaction realizing that it's Vi wearing the uniform, storming their old hideout from when they were kids. Now, when Vi and Jinx see each other again, Jinx attacks her verbally over this. Lashing out from a "moral highroad".. But I think what is really happening here is that Jinx feels her sister would only have put on that uniform if she had truly driven Vi away forever. In her mind, she has officially lost the last person who there was a chance could love her. Running out into the street coughing and gasping, she is attacked by Smeech and subsequently saved by Sevika. We are given two important character points here I want to touch on:

"Everyone who gets close to me dies"- like the words Vi eventually says "I choose wrong every time" this is Jinx's negative core belief. If we think back to the beginning of their story, with Mylo teasing her and calling her a Jinx, she has truly come to believe she is exactly that, bringing death and misfortune on anyone who gets too close. From her childhood until now, we need to inventory what has occurred to reach the point that she has truly come to believe she is a curse on everyone who knows her:

Loss of her birth parents

Loss of Mylo, Claggor and Vander all of whom she blames herself for

Loss of Vi: This is obviously complex, Vi hitting and yelling at her but then her thinking Vi was dead. Lot of conflicting emotion

Killed Silco: Of course, the truth of her relationship with Silco was extremely toxic but she still loved him as a father

Feeling of total rejection by Vi

2. "It was something I could fix"- Jinx quietly took this on herself to try and make something right by replacing Sevika's arm. It's a small thing and blown by fairly quickly given all the other stuff going on at this point. But it's a small nod to the fact that Jinx is not totally lost.. there is still someone in there who considers the cost of her actions and wants to make things right.

Ultimately, due her heartbreak and rage and her total and complete loss of her family, she declares her plan to finish what's left of her family.

Battle of The Ventilation Chamber:

Vi- In an emotional moment before it all goes wrong, Vi has a conversation in which she states "My sister, is gone. There's only Jinx now, it has to end." it should be noted that this is not a "bad-ass" revenge mission. This isn’t the heroic final confrontation and the show doesn't treat it as one. While Caitlyn has been growing darker, and more violent as their work has gone on, Vi has watched as the last person she had left she has left loses herself more and more. Vi is emotional, and she is frightened of what she may have to do and what's happening to Caitlyn. But she has reached the point where she doesn't feel she has a choice.

I recently had a discussion with another user in which they questioned how Vi could ever reach a point that she was ready to kill Jinx. I have thrown lists at you all throughout this post and part 1 so I'll spare you. But what it boils down to is this. Vi cannot reconcile that her sister, and Jinx are the same person. At this point in the story, she cannot look at Jinx and see Powder after a lifetime of trauma and guilt and inner pain. As she tells Jinx before the fight kicks off “.. done pretending you’re my sister you’re not. You killed her. I’m not gonna let you stain her memory anymore”. Now of course at the heart of it, Vi is wrong. That is still her sister... But as I have touched on repeatedly in this two part deep-dive, Vi doesn’t see what we get to see.

Take the bridge attack from season 1:

What does Vi see- After running onto the smoking bridge, covered in wounded and dead enforcers from Jinx’s attack, Vi goes to Caitlyn and in relief she is okay and starts to help her up. As she is doing so, the little sister she fought so hard to come back to materializes out of the darkness and opens fire, nearly killing them both

What we got to see- Jinx trying to silence Mylo’s hallucination and reassure herself that Vi was saying goodbye to Caitlyn and won’t leave her again. We see that she only attacks the bridge when she realizes the stone is there. The same stone that is the symbol of Silco’s acceptance, and remembering her deep fear of being alone or abandoned if she is deemed weak or not useful, we understand she has no choice but to get the stone back. At this point we have already seen her hallucinations when she sees Caitlyn’s face, and we know that Silco and Sevika have intentionally used Caitlyn’s presence to drive a wedge between Vi and Jinx (with Sevika intentionally doing it to destabilize Jinx’s mental health). And we see the look on Jinx’s face after her fight with Ekko... she almost killed her sister, and she and her childhood best friend almost killed one another... before she pulls the pin...

As stated, my purpose here is not “Team Vi” VS “Team Jinx”. That’s not the point of this story at all. So while it’s true that Vi’s inability to see her sister in Jinx has pushed Jinx further into the dark, and that Jinx’s inability to quell that darkness in her has made her a monster in Vi’s eyes, ultimately what it comes down to is seeing these sisters who once were so close, pushed to the breaking point by a world that never gave them a chance.

We come now to the tragic but inevitable violent clash between the sisters. They are in a massive chamber with pillars Jinx has painted with scenes of their childhood. As is her way, they all seem to portray Vi in a more sinister way, and when Vi sees them, she tells Caitlyn "take the shot". This is the first time we hear Vi call her Jinx to which she responds, "Finally got the name right". They verbally snipe at each-other, and finally the fight starts after Caitlyn takes the shot.

This whole scene is aesthetically breathtaking between the music and the animation and garnered a lot of praise as it deserved. But in the story, this moment is heartbreaking. For everything that's happened, this is the first time we see Vi and Jinx truly trying to harm one another. I have seen a lot of commentary regarding a moment where they were "sister fighting" suggesting how unserious they were. And while it is very true that as the fight goes on, we see the horror of what they are doing to one another start to register, Jinx opens the fight full blast with her Gatling gun which Vi shortly rips in half. They are not playing. But as the fight continues, we do start to see that realization dawning on them of how far this has gone.

Jinx looking up at Vi after Vi rips her gun in two:

2. Vi catching Jinx when she is about to fall dangerously far, note how she is holding her for the briefest moment

3. Vi's face when she hears her little sister say she is ready to die, and that she's glad it's VI

Eventually it comes to a head when Caitlyn shoots one of Jinx's fingers off and Vi pins Jinx by the neck to a stone altar. Jinx reaffirms what she has already told us "Go on. I'm ready... I'm glad it's you... it had to be you..." as she goes from angry and struggling to letting her eyes close. The rage leaves Vi's face and transitions into a heartbroken shock as her hand falters. Grief and anger play out on her face before seeming to work herself back up to finishing it, until Isha jumps in the middle and stops everything by pointing a gun in Vi's face. Ultimately because of how it plays out, we will never know if Vi would have done it. I see it as equally likely she was going to scream and smash her hand down on the side, as we saw her starting to see Powder in Jinx’s face during that moment.

Of note, the second that gun is in Vi's face Jinx looks scared and shouts "NO!"

After Caitlyn shoots Isha's gun from her hand Vi looks down at this child protecting Jinx in shock and confusion... you recall I mentioned Vi had not seen a moment of good in her sister since she came home.. seeing this vulnerable little girl risking her life to protect her I think made Vi question everything right then in that moment. We then see the way Jinx is looking at Vi.. who protected them... Like for the first time in a long time, both are seeing who they used to know.

Turning Their Backs on the world:

I have had trouble finding a straight answer on exactly how long passes between the end of Act 1 and the beginning of Act 2, but most seem to agree its anywhere from 6 months to a year. And in that time the sisters have fallen into very different lives.

Vi:

For the first time, we are seeing Vi in total freefall. She has always had a reason, always had a purpose. When she was a teenager, she lived to protect Powder and the others, and make a better life for them. When she was in prison, she lived to see Powder again and make things right. And when she couldn't save Jinx and joined the strike team, she lived to protect Caitlyn and end Jinx's threat. But she couldn't save her sister, and Caitlyn betrayed her. Everything Vi believes in, every core tenant, every lesson she has tried to honor have all been shattered. And for all the blood, and bruises, and broken promises, she has nothing, and no one. And we see her self-destructing. She seems strong at first, winning fights and looking immensely strong, but that quickly devolves until she is curled up alone, dreaming that the first hope she'd known in seven years still loved her.

Jinx:

Jinx in the meantime has been living quietly with Isha in her hideout and found a measure of peace. We learn she has not been seen in public in months, but between her attack on Piltover's council, and their attempts at demonizing her to have the undercity cooperate, she has become a symbol to the citizens of Zaun, although she wants nothing to do with it. We see a much gentler side to her, playing with Isha, dying her hair. and we have a revealing conversation here that shows us she is more at peace than before.

Jinx shares that her name used to be Powder, when she was a kid.. and that being with Isha is reminding her of Powder. And even more telling, she declares "Jinx is dead!"

-- In a way, the sisters are going through similar journeys at this time in their lives, Jinx is just at a different stage. While Vi has lost everything and is struggling to find the will to keep living, Jinx has come out the other side of that... learning to be someone new with Isha by her side. Although I think we were cheated out of a conversation where it was mentioned, it does seem clear to me that through taking responsibility for the younger girl, Jinx starts to understand Vi more than she ever did.

We see when Sevika returns to try and force Jinx into attending the rally, Jinx has a moment where the glitches return, but she stops it saying Silco shouldn't have died if he wanted her to be his symbol. She goes to see Silco's chair, speaking like he was there, saying she knows she probably owes him the revolutionary role but is afraid to mess up she and isha's peace, and mourns his loss

Jinx does not owe Silco anything... But even with progress she has begun to make her guilt over what happened lingers. However, what is important to recognize is this. During all of season 1, the influence and manipulation of Silco and Sevika kept Jinx from reuniting with Vi, from finding the peace she so clearly needed. Now that Silco is gone, she resisted. She even says at one point that her head is much quieter since Silco died.

Finally, Jinx is forced back into the world, when Isha is taken at the rally. When Sevika tells her, we see a glimpse of that darkness in her, hearing the specters and seeing Silco. Until it ends and she and Sevika set off.

There of course two big moments for her character on the mission:

While at the prison for Isha, (which lets be clear, she went for Isha), she releases the others taken in the rally. They begin to gently touch her shoulder in thanks, and in the beginning, she appears nervous, like a trapped animal. Until she realizes they meant no harm, and the music shifts as her eyes soften. And what is the music giving us? "Dear friend across the river".

Her reunion with Vander- Not a lot to say in terms of character at this moment, but it literally impacts the rest of the story.

For Vander:

The Sisters are reunited when Jinx comes to Vi, both much changed. Vi is understandably extremely aggressive with Jinx, especially when Jinx brings up Vander. But the changes in Jinx seem to register with Vi, enough to let her guard down, at least enough to hear what Jinx has to say.

Jinx in general just seems calmer and even tempered, trying to nervously joke with Vi

Does not try to fight back when Vi grabs her

starts crying while Vi is choking her

We must remember that the last time Vi saw her little sister they quite literally tried to kill one another. These small changes, perhaps coupled with an unspoken joy to have her sister back, and Vi follows. As they travel, there are several key points we want to discuss:

Seeing the painting: There is a moment where Vi sees the painting in the undercity, depicting Jinx in a heroic pose with Vander behind her, and no sign of Vi on the image. Vi looks almost indignant while Jinx gives a cocky smirk. It's not mentioned again, but my assumption would be that Vi is looking at, seeing herself left off, and her feelings are hurt. Jinx helped flood the lanes with shimmer, helped Silo who of course killed Vander, and Vi is forgotten. Although hardly fair, I think is a part of Vi realizing the potential of who Jinx can be. No matter what the past was, her sister seems to have become someone other than a creature of the dark for their people.. “maybe we can rewrite your story.. like you did with Zaun”.

The Sisters Bicker. They go back and forth insulting each other’s weaponry, mental state that sort of thing. Jinx throws the enforcer thing in Vi's face again and they bicker-fight leading to Isha getting smacked after getting in the middle of it again. I think the key take away here is they were able to fight and it is SO MUCH different than before. They weren't trying to kill one another.

Vi sees Jinx tending to Isha. Vi watches as Jinx tends to Isha, comforting and checking on her, and she seems almost angry, but I believe she is more conflicted… Vi is seeing the actual person in Jinx. Not the persona but the young woman underneath, and slowly it’s these changes that make her start to see her sister is still in there… (For all the “Vi is seeing how she should have treated Powder” people, go back and watch every scene of Season 1 Act 1 with them in it other than the single time Vi hurt her, in the literal worst moment of their lives since their parents were killed. No. Just No)

Jinx tells Vi the last time they tried to help Vander alone it all went wrong. Maybe this can be a do-over for them. Seeing this hope in Jinx is huge. She has spent so much time believing all she does is hurt her loved ones, and for the first time we are seeing hope in her. A hope that things can be different. And she brought Vi into that hope with her.

The mining shack. With Vander's letter revealing how things could have gone, we see a bittersweet moment in which Vi tries to bring herself to comfort Jinx but isn't there quite yet.

Vander arrives: Purely story wise these events are all massively impactful. But to speak on Vi and Jinx's relationship. They have not really been at peace since Vi left prison. There has been anger, loss, bitterness and so much grief. But as soon as Vi sees Vander charging, she throws her body in front of Isha without hesitation. She says "He's gonna kill you" not us, not me, you. Vi holds back Vander while Jinx frantically tries to figure out how to help, until the moment comes. Vi is faced with a choice:

Trust Jinx, and potentially die, or don't and potentially kill Vander

Vi drops her gloves...

"I choose wrong every time, and because of it, I've lost everyone"..

"Everyone who gets close to me dies"

In the small glow of Jinx's lighter and the green of Vander’s back, both of these poor women's worst beliefs are wrong... Vi let the heart of hers Vander believed in lead her, she trusted her sister, and now Jinx finds her family alive and embracing one another. Changed. Hurt. But alive and demanding that she join them in a loving embrace. This moment COULD NOT mean more for Jinx and the animation is just gut wrenching. She is so terrified that she has cost one or both of her family their lives in the dark… and then she sees it. They are okay. And they love her.

The Commune:

This nauseatingly brief time as a family all takes place in Viktor’s commune, where they have come to find healing for Vander. It all takes place in a single episode, but what we are seeing is the continuing healing of Vi and Jinx, away from the influence of what drove them apart in the first place. The conflict between Piltover and Zaun. The ongoing oppression of Zaun and deep history of the classist system that has caused so much turmoil is far, far too vast a topic to bring into this in detail. So, I’ll say this. We first met these characters in a clash between the two cities in which they lost their parents. And ever since then, they have not had a moment free of some aspect of that conflict driving them apart, until now. And it is in that quiet that they start to make peace:

Jinx trusts Vi enough to give up her guns when they enter

Vi wants Jinx’s opinion regarding if they should stay to help Vander

Vi wants them all to stay and be a family

(Pointed out by another user and god I love this point)- When Jinx is telling her joke to Isha, she doesn’t identify Vi as an enforcer. She calls her a sentimental ex con..

Vi trusts Jinx with the plan to save Vander even over telling Caitlyn about Jinx’s involvement

Jinx saves Caitlyn’s life: I mean… I don’t really think there is way to overstate the significance of this.

Of course, because of the arrival of outside influences over which the sisters have no control, all falls to death and destruction. They lose Vander again… and Isha. And we see them for the last time this act as Vi, who at the end of Act 1 almost killed her sister, throws her body over Jinx shielding her from the blast.

To see them have their family back only to have it be ripped away so quickly… I think we all had the same reaction. It’s extremely difficult to watch Jinx hugging Vander while Vi treats us to a rare genuine smile of relief, only for it all to fall away so quickly. It wasn’t what we wanted. But I believe that through the bond they share Jinx and Vi are made stronger through their brief time in this place, ultimately closing in on the path to becoming who they are meant to be.

Back in Piltover:

Act 3 begins with the final fight mere days away after they have all returned to Piltover in the wake of the Communes destruction. I have had trouble finding an exact time frame for how long it’s been but the very least I would venture it has been close to a week. Whatever Vi’s exact injury was she has been unconscious the entire time, healing in Caitlyn’s bed. Her hair seems longer and most of the black has been cleaned away. Jinx on the other hand, has deteriorated. Her hair is unbound, she will not eat, and she is picking at her skin in the dark of the bunker cell while Caitlyn waits for Vi to wake up.

We are given a scene with each of the sisters apart from each other first that are significant here, followed by their reunion:

Vi-

First and foremost, when Vi wakes up and asks where the others are yes she asks for Caitlyn first (aww) but then when she asks about her sister, she asks for Jinx. Not Powder. She isn’t using the name in anger, or fear, but out of concern. We watched over the course of act 2 as Vi was able to start seeing the person underneath the “character” of Jinx, start seeing the truth that she still has a sister. It’s a quick moment but one noteworthy in terms of her acceptance of who her sister has become.

This only continues during her confrontation with Caitlyn. Upon learning Jinx is in jail Vi comes to her defense and she and Caitlyn talk things out to a point. The primary meaning in this moment is between Vi and Caitlyn, but in Vi’s spirited defense of her sister we see a few clear points all lending itself to her learning and believing that Jinx has changed, all concluding in the question she leaves hanging in the air “Who decides who gets a second chance”

Jinx-

We find Jinx in a terribly dark state. She is damaging her skin, she won’t eat, her hair is bedraggled and unkempt. As some users have pointed out the thick string of her shirt has been removed suggesting either an attempt at self-harm or at the very least concern over it. Having come so close to a happy family again, to having some sense of regaining what she blamed herself all her life for destroying, only to have it all destroyed again seems to have driven Jinx into an empty darkness we have not seen her in.

Now, we have seen her lost and having given up before. In the wake of Silco’s death and her attack on the council she wandered the undercity lost and without purpose seemingly hoping to die. But this is different, it is quieter. It is the hollow emptiness of grief, not the chaotic fury of self-loathing. And the difference matters. The tragedy of Isha’s death is a wave that almost swallows Jinx completely as we will come to see, but in that loss, she has also been severed from Silco’s shadow and by extension the “symbol of Jinx”. All that’s left is the person, and we watch as she and those who love her help that person wake up and swim to the surface. Before she and Vi see each other again she has two important conversations in this cell:

Caitlyn comes to feed her. This is a rather short exchange for these two women whose lives have impacted each other so much yet spoken so little, but its incredibly important. After being confronted by Vi, being forced to question who deserves a second chance, Caitlyn demands Jinx try to account for her actions. Caitlyn also in this moment gives away the fact that she sees the common ground between them, realizing they have both done terrible things. And we have the moment Jinx in her way, apologizes to Caitlyn. She admits it would not have made a difference, but she didn’t know her mother was there. Now I have seen some conversation regarding this, suggesting that Jinx is saying she would have done it anyway because she didn’t care. That is clearly incorrect. Jinx is looking back and realizing that at that moment, she was lost. She isn’t the same person anymore, but she is able to see now how lost she truly was.

She is finally visited by “Silco” in this moment and this “conversation” marks the turning point for Jinx’s character. All of the dialogue from this entire moment is amazing but what it boils down to, is Jinx realizing the only way forward is to break the cycle. Silco speaks on the prisons we create for ourselves out of the identities we cling to, the “symbol of jinx”… at that the only way the killing stops, is to walk way. To end the prison of who she thinks she is supposed to be and end the cycle

Never Giving Up:

Vi comes rushing to Jinx’s cell once again calling her sister Jinx, accepting who she is. She has taken the keys and intends to free Jinx, with hopes of helping her rewrite her story like she did in Zaun. Jinx only responds in a muted fashion but Vi rushed into the cell and embraces Jinx tightly crying. Jinx’s eyes soften for a moment before she says softly “Your never gonna give up on me… are you” before striking Vi in the stomach and locking her in the cell. As Vi tries to stop her and Jinx vanishes slowly into the dark, Jinx tells her “You don’t have to worry about me anymore… you don’t have to be feel guilty about being happy. You deserve to be with her… there’s no good version of me… break the cycle…” leaving Vi screaming in the cell.

Vi-

This is obviously a very heavy and bleak moment between the sisters. With everything they have been through, Vi has fully come to love, accept and trust her sister again. And this reversal of her attempt to rescue her is jarring and extremely upsetting. As she tells Caitlyn later, she truly believed Jinx would help them. Would stay. And here’s the thing that we as the audience know but Vi doesn’t. Vi was right. She was right to believe in her sister, right to see Jinx’s potential and not stop loving her. But was the lesson that is so hard for Vi to learn that this all leads up to, is that you can’t save someone who isn’t ready to be saved. Vi loves Jinx with all that she has, but Jinx isn’t a place mentally and emotionally to process and receive that love quite yet. So yes, Vi could have somehow hulked out of the cell and chased Jinx down somewhere. But it wouldn’t have mattered.

I had a conversation with another user a few posts back who asked for my thoughts on this moment. I don’t know if any of you have ever loved an addict in any way, romantic partner, sibling, parent what have you. But you can’t make them get better. You can scream at them, hit them, hug them, hold them down and beg them and all in all at the end of the day until they are able to turn that corner in their mind it won’t matter. Not because they don’t love you, but because they have to start loving themselves enough to see the hope you have for them themselves.

Jinx-

I saw a recent quote from one of the showrunners, saying they focus on characters who do the right things, for the wrong reasons, to make them so compelling. This is a classic example. As we will come to learn, everything that Jinx’s mind projected as Silco in that moment, was correct. The only way for any of them to find peace is to walk away. To break this never-ending cycle. We know what she is going to do, and thankfully that she is stopped, but another major factor here is what she says to Vi. I have seen this conversation twisted into every possible way- “oh she is clearly pushing Vi away and clearly going to hurt herself, Vi should have gnawed her way out of the cell like a badgermole and swooped Jinx up while Piltover burned! “(or some other insane nonsense). But those people are missing perhaps one of the most loving moments between the sisters since they became adults.

Jinx is not pushing Vi away. She is trying desperately to give Vi the permission she knows Vi can’t give herself to be happy. Yes, in this moment by “breaking the cycle” Jinx is intending to end her own life. But she is also freeing Vi of the cycle of guilt that has tortured Vi since they were children. As horrific as it all was, I think losing Isha, feeling that guilt for that younger girl she loved and tried so hard to protect, gave Jinx an understanding of Vi and the pain she has carried all these years. And in what she planned to be her final words to Vi, begged Vi to accept the happiness and love Jinx knows she deserves.

Never too late to build something new:

In the brief time between their conversation and the final battle, the sisters are once again separated for a time. The aftermath of what in that moment felt like it could be the last time they saw eachother still heavy on them both. We sit with each of them, seeing the moment they are each faced with a choice, break the cycle, or let it end:

Vi-

Caitlyn finds an understandably extremely upset Vi in Jinx’s cell, knuckles raw and bleeding. Vi emotionally admits to freeing Jinx, lamenting that she truly thought Jinx would help them and finally giving voice to her negative core belief – “I choose wrong everytime, and because of it… I’ve lost everyone”. Vi is a warrior. She has been since the beginning of the show and that has remained a core character trait. But it’s not her ability to do violence that makes her who she is, it’s her heart. It’s her unending belief in those she loves and their potential. But, the hardship and pain she has gone through have robbed her of seeing those same things in herself, that she fights so hard to protect for others. And it is in the aftermath of her sister’s departure, and the realization that Caitlyn not only is still there for Vi, but has laid down her hatred knowing that Vi was going to do this and giving her the chance to, that Vi has a choice:

Continue the cycle, ignore her love for this woman and caitlyn’s love for her and hunt down Jinx, knowing that they all may die tomorrow- “When people look up to you, you don’t get to be selfish”

Accept that she cannot save Jinx if Jinx isn’t ready to be saved, and fall into the arms of the woman she loves for the first time choosing herself, and her happiness- “you don’t have to be feel guilty about being happy. You deserve to be with her”

And because of Jinx, for the first time since we have seen her, Vi chooses happiness and love for herself, rather than continuing to try and bare the pain of those she loves.

Jinx-

*Disclaimer*: I’m going to be honest with you all, I think this is one of the moments they really undercut with the rushed pacing of season 2. I understand through implication and context what the missing pieces were. But Jinx deserved more time for us to see how Ekko brought her around, and how she rallies the undercity. Also I know this GIF is not this moment but I couldn't find what i wanted and i think it has the right feel for them

We find Jinx destroying the remnants of who she has been. Burning the Last Drop, cutting her hair, the haunting lyrics of please let me go behind her we are watching as she is dismantling the prison of who she is piece by piece. All culminating in her standing on the rooftop, setting off the monkey bomb before Ekko stops her and eventually talks her down enough (after a series of attempted suicides) for him to tell her, “it’s never to late to build something new”.

Now this all connects to Ekko’s AU adventure, and we aren’t getting into that here, because that Powder is not our powder. But the importance is that Ekko had previously given up on Jinx. Even in the face of Vi’s insistence that she could be saved, Ekko denies her again and again. But during the fight on the bridge in season 1, we see that moment of tenderness between them. And then in the AU, Ekko has come to believe in the possibilities of the future again, in the possibility of Jinx’s future.

The Final Battle:

The battle spreads all across the city and there is a lot that could be discussed. But keeping to our sisters, first we need to talk about Vi. All throughout this post and the one before it, I have tried to convey my belief that Vi has been finding the value in herself other than her ability to harm. She has been on a journey that has changed her tremendously in many ways, not the least of which being she has gone from that angry young teenager who didn’t view herself as someone worth of being protected, but was prepared to fight and bleed to protect others, to someone who was able to choose happiness, to see the value in a part of herself not meant to take a blow. All of that to say, it is interesting that the character who has been known for her fighting the entire show, appears the first time in the war not throwing punches with the enemy, but carrying a wounded person out of the firing line as buildings collapse. Her first action in the biggest conflict of the entire show, is to save a life.

We do also have the moment where she sees Gert’s blue hair and is clearly afraid it may be Jinx before the helmet comes all the way off

Jinx’s Arrival-

Things are dire. Vi and her forces are being overrun by the Noxian shimmer-hulks, Caitlyn and Mel are facing Ambessa while their enforcers are on their knees, when Jinx rides in on a war balloon (apparently what her hideout has been this entire time) leading the firelights and the undercity to war. This is a fantastic moment for many reasons but in keeping with our purpose here I want to discuss a few things:

Validation of Vi’s belief- When Vi freed her from the cell, Vi had fully come to trust Jinx again, seeing the woman her sister had become, and not as some stranger. And when Jinx left Vi was devastated. But in this moment Vi’s belief and faith in her sister are proven correct, for both of them

Jinx’s Balloon bears tributes to her loved ones: Vi’s bunny rabbit that she gave Jinx before trying to turn herself in, small dolls for both Mylo and Claggor, and Isha’s bunny ears.

Because we essentially jump from Ekko barely managing to talk her out of committing suicide to her arrival here, unfortunately there is some speculation required as to how exactly that transition went down. I see this as Jinx finally beginning to step into who she is meant to be. Not the shattered ghost of Powder, and not Silco’s terrorist daughter. Her own person. She wears Jinx’s colors and comes in blasting music and colorful smoke, but her whole demeanor is much more calm and under control. That cocky smirk when Ambessa sees her somehow reminiscent of when we first saw her giving Sevika the same look in season 1, but Jinx feel so much more grounded and adult. Ultimately after a series of coming to each other’s rescue, it all results in the two sisters, back to back, standing in the wreckage of the hex-gate preparing to do battle with what used to Vander. Before the fight starts, Vi sprints to Jinx and lifts the rubble off of her saying “I guess you shouldn’t have come back” and Jinx says “Still don’t get it, huh sis? I’m always with you, even when we’re worlds apart”

Jinx’s Sacrifice/The End:

The rest of the fight goes in with the degree of epic insanity we have come to expect in this show but ultimately it all ends, with two sisters, and their father. When Viktor and Jayce vanish Jinx, Vi and “Vander” come crashing down in the rubble. Jinx lands higher up and looks down over Vi and “Vander” calling for Vi to move before it all breaks apart.

Okay, I have covered this moment in a variety of posts, so for those keeping up with my blathering, I apologize. But A- people continue to completely miss the point here, and B- this is actually quite relevant for what occurs next. So when we see Vi, tearfully standing over “Vander” and kneeling down to cup his head in her hands, ignoring Jinx’s calls to move, we need to remember some things. Here is a quick and dirty list of the trauma Vi has survive up until now:

According to Arcane Wiki Vi was 9 when she saw their birth parents killed

At roughly 15 years old she sees her adoptive brothers violently killed in explosion

Sees a shimmer mutated Vander die under her after saving her life

Survives seven years in an abusive, violent prison after being locked up without cause starting in her teens

Is wounded countless times over the events of the show at least twice in ways that could have killed her

Almost killed by little sister multiple times before they make peace

Almost kills little sister

Compromises her principles regarding wearing the Enforcer uniform only to be completely abandoned and betrayed

Gets Vander back in severely mutated form

Loses Vander again in truly traumatic fashion

Loses Isha who she had begun to bond with

Severely wounded saving Jinx

Entire battle up until now including seeing Loris die in front of her

Vi is twenty-three at the end of the show. Twenty. Three. She is so young to have suffered so much. And it is quite clear as she starts crying, standing over “Vander” and dropping to her knees, that she has just had enough. We literally see her flashing back to the first time she lost him and it truly seems like she is not even hearing Jinx. When “Vander” attacks, for the first time in the entire show, we don’t see Vi fight back. She crawls back crying and even calls out “Vander!” for him to stop. Until Jinx launches into him, sending them both over the railing.

Vi tries to save her sister, but Jinx seeing that they are all going to be pulled down, repeats her vow to Vi “always with you sis” before knocking the hex stone out of Vi’s remaining gauntlet sending Jinx plummeting down with “Vander” leaving Vi screaming in grief above. We watch as Jinx smiles, a peaceful expression on her face and the animation of her features shifts back to resembling Powder more, and finally as we see a flashback of Vander with the girls when we were little, the bomb detonates.

The End:

Vi-

For so much of this story, Vi was driven by guilt over the horrors of their youth. A life of standing in the breach for others, and no belief in the value of what else she had to offer the world, had left her unable to believe that she deserved to be happy. When she was released from prison, nothing was as she found it, including the sister she came back to save. And although the journey was far from simple, getting to know Jinx as her sister, seeing those parts of her she thought lost, having that all too brief time back together with Vander, and even seeing her sister leading their people in defense of humanity itself, all helped Vi heal from the loss of Powder, because Jinx is her sister now. And Jinx gave Vi something no one else could have. Permission to be loved, and to feel safe. I love Caitlyn and Vi's love story. Truly, I do. I consider their relationship immensely important to the story and plan to give it the same treatment as I have here. But if Jinx had not begged Vi to finally allow herself to know peace, I don't know that she and Caitlyn would have found each other again. And it is because of that happiness, that I believe Vi will find her way through the loss of her sister. Because she isn't alone. She is supported, and she is loved, and she is safe. And rather than seeing Jinx's fate as her failing her little sister, I hope that eventually Vi will see it for what it was. Jinx saw her older sister in need, and became the shield Vi had always tried to be for her, the shield Vi never believed she herself deserved...

Jinx-

Jinx's arc is not finished. I love Vi, and I sincerely hope to see her character again someday, throughout all of her trials and tribulations we watched as she found who she is supposed to be, and found a way to know peace. Jinx has found who she is... I think... but she knew there was no way she could ever find that peace in Piltover or Zaun. There would always be turmoil for her, and by extension for Vi. And Jinx knows Vi could never know peace, knowing she was out in the world all alone... its a hard sacrifice. But it leaves the door open that one day, maybe they can be sisters in the untroubled lives the world stole from them when they were young. it's hard to say exactly what would have become of Jinx had Vi never come back. My thought, is that she would be dead, or something so dark that it would be better if she were... I do not discount that Silco loved her as a daughter in the best way he knew how, but we were watching the erosion of her mind and soul and until Vi arrived, no one challenged it. No one seemed to care. Vi's stubborn, bullheaded unyielding belief in Jinx helped her see that she was not "A Jinx", she was simply Jinx. As I said, the road was clearly far from simple. But at the end of the day, as she reconnected with Vi, and as she came to understand Vi through her relationship with Isha, Jinx overcame those howling demons inside of her, and put to rest her negative core belief:

"Its ALWAYS me.. everyone who gets close to me dies"

With what may have been her last act among the living, Jinx made sure that the person in her life who tried so hard to stand by her side, made it out alive.

If I may, I would call your attention back to the very beginning of these sisters journey together:

There in the wake of the first tragedy, after seeing young Vi standing tall in the horror, holding Powder's hand and trying to shield from from the death all around them, Vi eventually can't take anymore. And what does Powder do when Vi needs her?... becomes her fucking shield. (I'm not crying.. your crying)

It's hard to know what to say after such a devastating and beautiful story... I like most people believe that Jinx is alive, and the evidence is strong to support that. But it doesn't take away from the immense loss these sisters have been through. Unless we are to assume the Caitlyn has shared her suspicions with Vi, Vi believes Jinx is dead. And given everything we know of her character, the painful truth is that Vi will likely carry that guilt in some way for the rest of her days. And after watching them fight so hard to come back to each-other, it is difficult to accept that after everything they have faced, they are still apart. But it is through seeing what they gave each-other, that we find hope for the future...Ultimately, rather it be Piltover or Zaun, In prison or free, dead or alive, the love these sisters have for one another stretches across all worlds..

To anyone who stuck with me on this, thank you. As I have with each of these deep dives I have gained a whole new appreciation for the true beauty of this story and its characters. Keep standing up for stories that matter.

#arcane season 2 spoilers #arcane season 1 #vi arcane #vi and jinx #jinx arcane #powder #arcane #very long post

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igotanidea · 1 year ago

Text

Raw: Jason Todd x reader

Warnings: SMUT MDNI!!! (seriously minors, read responsibly so we can all leave in peace here, there are enough wars and fights in the world), cursing.

massive thanks to @fcthots for letting me use the idea (Jason making love to you without protection for the first time, which I twisted a bit and which you can find here)

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Once he started he was like a machine.

There was nothing and no one that could possibly stop him from almost drilling into her.

At least that was what happening till one night …

“Baby….”

“Shit! Jason!” Y/N came out of the shower only to came across the red metal mask. Obviously her first reaction was a single scream as she grabbed her chest, trying to level the rapid spike in the heartbeat. She most definitely did not expect Jason to swing by her apartment in the middle of the night with an attempt to give her a heart attack. However she could not deny that his deep, hoarse voice send a shiver down her spine, not that she was going to let it show to him. Instead she held her towel closer to her body, making sure it wouldn’t fall as she crossed her arms over chest and gave him a look of disapproval. “how many times did I tell you?” she scoffed “there are doors in this apartment.”

“doors are for wimps.” He muttered taking a step forward, finally taking off that stupid, unnecessary Red Hood helmet.

“Well thanks a lot!” she rolled her eyes “my experience shows that doors are basically for normal people.”

“Yeah…. Exactly baby….” He grabbed her by the waist pulling her closer to his body, brushing lips over her slightly damp cheek, hands caressing her arms up and down. “And we both know I’m an extraordinary person.”

“So much humility……” Y/N tried to keep her composure, but he always knew how to push her buttons and make her relent.

“Tell me princess…..” he muttered into her ear “why were you taking a shower this late at night?” his hand travelled up her arm moving towards the knotted front of the towel. “Did you get dirty, baby?”.

He knew exactly what he was doing putting on that sexy, seductive smirk, running his fingers over her chest, while the thin little piece of material did nothing to hide her already pebbled nipples and goosebumps forming all over her body. And Jason was always the one to enjoy teasing her, especially when he got so many clear signs of what she really wanted from him.

“Hmmmm….” He muttered, moving his touches and caresses down her body to her leg, reaching for the hem of the towel and sneaking under it only to start rubbing her inner thigh.

“Jace….” She closed her eyes, still desperately trying to keep her self-integrity that was slipping away by a second.

This was too much for her. The darkness of the apartment, the huskiness of his voice, the feel of his hands on her body. Yes, she wanted him. Yes, she might have done some things that required cleaning up, earlier that night. Yes, she was thinking about him while taking care of herself. She was really trained in self-service, but what can you expect from a girl, whose boyfriend is a vigilante, absent too many night and a woman forced to spend the nights alone in a cold, empty bed? To tell the whole truth, once she got what she wanted, Y/N thought it would be enough. After all you can’t go too many rounds running only on imaginations, right?

But then, the reason for all those dreams and fantasies were standing in front of her, in flesh and blood and her body got very excited at the sight while her brain was more than glad to pass the steering wheel to the flesh.

“Yes, sunshine?” he moved his ministrations a bit higher, smirking when she opened her legs a bit, allowing him to almost reach her throbbing clit. “wanted to say something?”

God, he was a little piece of shit, not doing anything and yet doing so much at the same time, breaking her and making her fall so freaking easily.

“Jason……”

“Hmm?”

“I…. I…..”

Fuck!

“You’re not doing very good job with talking, princess, are you now?” Jason finger started moving over her most sensitive spot in circular motions, enjoying the pained expression on her face. “If you keep wasting my time, I might… just… leave….” He whispered, removing his hand almost making her cry out in frustration. “Come on baby….. just say you need me… You know you do.”

“I do….” She gasped, grabbing both sides of his face and pressing her lips to his, letting go of all the inhibitions.

“Good girl…” he whispered against her mouth, untying the towel in one smooth motion, groaning like an animal when her naked, soft body clung to him like a second skin, that he so desperately wanted to get under.

But it was still not enough.

He had to have her. All of her. Mind, body, soul. Closer.

And he was going to claim her in a proper way, definitely not in the hallway. No.

Regardless of his stupidly teasing character she was still his princess, his queen, the love of his life and he was going to treat her exactly like that, ready to fulfil all her wishes and commands.

“Let me make you feel good baby….” He grabbed the back of her thighs, wrapping her legs around his waist, palms resting on her shoulder blades pulling her even closer, walking to the bedroom, miraculously avoiding tripping over his own feet, all because of her closeness and the pleasure at taste of her lips on his.

God, he was so starved for her and the evidence of it were visible on only in the form of the tent in his tactical pants, but also in the way he threw her on the bed, making her bounce and in the manner he tore off his own body armour and clothes, almost pouncing onto her.

Almost, because he knew that if he let go completely he would most definitely hurt her and he couldn’t bare even the thought of that.

Instead he crawled on top of her, kissing up her body, her calf, thigh, stomach, torso, breast (giving a lot of attention to those perfectly pebbled nipples he needed to taste the moment they showed under the towel), collarbone and neck, finally meeting her lips.

He could eat her alive. She was so delicious, so soft, so warm, so fucking perfect and his blood boiled at the sweetness of her. Their tongues met in a crazy dance, wanting more, greedy and needy, exploring each other’s mouth.

It was like the overwhelming and encompassing fire inside them.

The world stopped existing and for what they care it could have exploded and they would be more than happy to die like this, in each other’s embrace. Touching, scratching, gripping, licking, pushing and pulling, tugging at each other’s hair, losing breath, panting and gasping unable to satiate the need, the craving of one another’s body.

“More…..” he groaned, biting on her neck, eliciting the sweetest moan from his girl, barely holding back from ripping her throat open and swallowing her like a freaking animal. His body pressed into her leaving no space between, and yet still wanting more and more and fucking more. She felt him pulling her in even more, breaking all the laws of biology and physics, as his hands travelled down to her hips, spreading her open, causing her pulse racing in the pace of a space rocket.

“Yes….” She moaned, one hand gripping the headboard, the other tangling in his hair, her whole back arching to his lips that were currently kissing alongside the valley of her breast, travelling down the same path he started earlier, and which he was going to take so many more times that night.

“I know, baby…. I know….” His breath was scorching hot on her skin, leaving invisible marks. In that moment, as in every other time they were being so close, so intimate together, with nothing between their bodies and souls, they both knew that they could never ever leave the other. They were too hooked on one another, almost like on a drugs. Jason left a permanent scar on her soul in the shape of his. The scar that she couldn’t and wouldn’t want to lose. He was a part of her, a part of her own body. They were one. Always and forever.

“I love you….” another moan escaped her mouth when he moved the tip of his tongue over her clit, his eyes sparkling with desire as he send her the mischievous, lustful gaze, before sucking on that aching spot. He was not only starved but also thirsty, ready to do everything to drink all her juices. And he methodically moved towards that goal, knowing what to do to turn her on.

She was so lost in pleasure, her body acting on its own, back arching, legs spreading, head falling back as she moaned and cried his name, pulling at his hair so ready to come, to explode, to finish.

“yes, yes, yes…. Yes, more!”

And he listened, melting in her moans, her sounds, her body, her taste. He knew he was good, he was very well aware she needed him and mindful of the amount of neglect on his part, of all those nights she spend lonely. And now he was making up for it.

But.

He was still a mix of a pleasure giver and a rascal, keeping her on the edge, surprising with every move and thought, never letting her be sure of what was going to happen.

It was both frustrating and exciting, making their intimacy a whole new, never boring experience every time.

And now, if she was going to come, he wanted her on his cock, even if protected. Tongue was simply not enough and she owed him this much for making her so wet and pretty with those flushed cheeks and desire-filled eyes. He did it for her and now was going to claim his prize.

“Babe…. Y/N…. I want to take you….” He muttered, not stopping lapping her folds with that skilful tongue, his words getting lost inside her body. “fully take you…..”

“Yes… yes… oh, yes….just don’t stop….” Y/N was so selfish and needy, focused only on reaching her climax, barely listening, that if he were to ask her to jump out the window she would probably say yes again. This was only word on her mind at the moment as long as he kept on devouring her.

“Y/N…..” he muttered again. Lust was lust, but he needed her informed consent. Every time. Even though they were a couple. Jason was a very complex man after all. “Y/N….” he groaned. “Can I have you my way?”

“fuck yes! Yes!” she cried out.

And once he heard that word coming out of her mouth, he was all ready for action. He pulled back, reaching for the nightstand, knowing she kept that little packet of condoms there, just in case (and making a mental note to himself to stock up, cause they were running short on supplies). He hovered over her body, looking straight into her eyes while tearing the packaging with his teeth, admiring her shuddering body, shining eyes, messed up hair, all of her, having to remind himself that this goddess was his.

His, his, his.

His to claim, to love, to take over and over and over again.

God! He wanted her so fucking bad his hands were shaking while taking off the protection from the wrapper.

“No….. wait…” she whispered grabbing his wrist, her eyes boring into him, causing him to freeze and drop the condom in confusion.

“wait? What do you mean wait? You …. You don’t want….?” Jason stuttered, his manhood almost flattening at the sudden rejection, which was quite embarrassing for him. “Y/N…..?” he looked at her with hurt in the eyes.

“No…. I mean…. I do… I want you….” She bit on her bottom lip in that erotic manner sending his mind into overdrive.

“Then what do you mean?” he gasped, getting all hot again, but was still dumbfounded. “Princess?”

She took the condom from his hands and send it flying through the room and shaking her head.

And then it hit him.

His eyes grew even wider, mouth falling open at the thought of what she was going to let him do to her. What she wanted. What she needed. And most importantly, how, she needed it.

“Babe…..” he gasped, unable to move, completely stuck in that moment, which was sure as hell the best ever in his life. “are you sure? Are you absolutely sure?”

“Are you trying to make me change my mind, babe?” she whispered in his ear only to pull back and give him a pout.

He was going to take her raw.

Oh god…. He was going to take her raw.

Oh, all the things he was going to do to her, all the ways he was going to make her feel him, all of him, unfiltered, finally making her fully his, after all the time of waiting.

“Fuck, Y/N!” he groaned, grabbing her waist, pressing her further into the mattress, spreading her legs open and pushing in, in one motion, doing it all in three seconds, no more, finally being inside her. And she was so wet, so warm, so soft, so perfect, so … home.

He was home.

And Jason was drifting in space, with the emotions overwhelming him completely. So good, oh, so good, he wanted to melt into her, have no boundaries, just be one with his Y/N, his babygirl.

It was the only thing on his mind right now.

Y/N. Y/N. Y/N.

“Jason…..” her desperate moaning brought him back to reality.

“Y/N…..” he gasped in response, eyes closing at the pleasure of feeling her body in a way he never got before. He was already in heaven.

“Jason … Please… move…” she whimpered, squirming desperately trying to urge him to take some action and not just freeze like a stone sculpture.

Oh, shit…..

“I can’t…” he whimpered hopelessly. How was he going to explain it to her?

“What do you meant you can’t?!” she cried out, raking her nails down his back, moving her hips against his to get any friction and turn him on “what’s going on?!”

She couldn’t comprehend what made him stop suddenly. He was inside her, big, hard like a rock, stretching her so deliciously and she wanted more. But now he was telling her fucking no?!

“Todd!!” she yelled, slowly losing her patience, her body begging for attention.

“I can’t…..” he almost sobbed, embarrassed and defeated. She was so perfect, her skin against him was amazing, the feeling of her velvety inside was bliss.

“I swear if you don’t hurry to fuck me…..” Y/N’s voice was turning a bit threating now even though she herself couldn’t come up with the idea what she was threating him with.

“'If I move I’m gonna cum….." Jason gasped, and it took her by huge surprise. He was always the resistant one. Gentlemanly, if you may. He could go three, four, five rounds making sure she was satisfied first, before letting himself go. So what the hell was happening now?!

"You haven't even been inside me for a full minute!" she protested, moving her body in a poor attempt to get what she wanted.

"Shut up!” he almost winced when she did that. “You feel so fucking good. I just can't help it. Gimme a minute, babe……." He bit on his bottom lip, trying to get himself together and finding enough strength to start pulling in and out. The best he could do was half an inch before another low groan escaped his throat. “I can’t……” his hands were on both sides of her head, their faces close enough so she could feel his ragged, heavy breath and it was getting weirder and more uncomfortable with any other second.

"Jason," she whined, "please, please, please….!." poor girl felt like crying at his point and those high-pitched whines finally made him move.

He was doing it.

He was making love to her without any stupid rubber standing in his way.

She was his, making those sweet, sweet sounds for him, crying out his name, digging nails into his back.

There were no words to describe that feeling.

And Jason was becoming more and more lightheaded with every thrust, with every move when his cock met that perfectly moist and warm cunt.

Y/N, Y/N, Y/N.

He was a bit ashamed to admit, but after a while he stopped thinking about her and focused only on his own pleasure, on his high, on his release.

MORE.

As he picked the pace, she moaned loud as never before, grabbing his body tighter, pulling him closer, losing her breath and matching his movements. Her eyes were closed, her mouth opened with that perfectly perfect expression of being thoroughly fucked.

“Yes… yes.. yes…!”

Oh yes, indeed.

He captured her mouth in his, pulling at her bottom lip, almost drawing blood. His hands found her thighs spreading her open even more, pounding into her like a wild animal, knowing no bounds, no limits, no rational thinking. Sweat was running down his face and back, his hair plastered to his forehead, but he was going to have her.

“Jace…..!!” she cried out again when he bit on her collarbone, licking the marked skin.

“Yeah, baby…..Yeah….”

“shit!”

“I got you….”

“So close!” she dug both her heels into his back, the intensity of the lovemaking almost making her lose consciousness. “Oh… Jace…JACE!!”

And then there was only bliss.

***

Not for her though.

***

Obviously he couldn’t contain himself and living up to the previously spoken words, cummed first.

Hard. Long. Filling her to the brim which was an Event (capital E) in itself, but still – leaving her unsatisfied and wanting.

Such a failure on his part.

However, Y/N did not seem to care.

After he painted her with the ropes of his cum, moaning in sheer pleasure at the feeling, she just kept holding him and rubbing his back, showing him all the love she had for him. The expression of happiness and fulfilment was a prize in itself, and despite not cumming she couldn’t feel better at that moment. She knew he wanted to stay like this, therefore there was no rushing him to pull out on her part. She was going to let him have his moment.

Her poor boy, in need of love and closeness and intimacy.

“Y/N … baby … princess …”

“I love you …” she kissed his temple.

“I’m so sorry …” Jason blushed, pulling away from her and laying on his back facing the ceiling. “Y/N, my love, I’m sorry, but I told you …” he shifted position to lay on the side, meeting her eyes, shining despite the darkness of the room. She looked … satisfied.

“Shut up …” she chuckled, cupping his cheek and kissing his nose. “that was fucking perfect…” Y/N chuckled.

“Perfect?” he frowned for a second, but quickly returned to his usual cocky self. “Yeah, it was fucking perfect. I mean, what else were you expecting with me, babygirl?” he grinned.

‘You’re such an idiot” she pushed him on his back, snuggling into his body, leaning head on his chest.

“I have to clean you up …” he objected, but those soft hands around him, the way her body aligned with his and the calm, steady beating of her heart next to him made him relent. “I think I can do it in a second …” he hummed nuzzling nose in her ruffled hair.

“Mhm…. Totally.” Y/N kissed his chest in response.

“Hey Y/N?” he called her name gently, caressing her side “did you feel good?”

“Yeah… yeah I did.”

“I still got to practise though, right?” he smirked, his touch becoming a little more intense and a bit more telling.

“You know what they say practise makes perfect.” She teased.

Poor Y/N was not going to be able to walk the next day.

@nmw-am

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