#tw: LEAGUE OF LEGENDS MENTIONED

[enlogs]

are we still friends? ⊹ ࣪ ˖ stairmaster irl + 2.1k

part one | part two | part three

If there was one thing Sunghoon was the best at, it would be running late.

Every day it was a different reason; whether it be him forgetting to put his glasses on (in fact, it had happened the other day. He ran down the stairwell of his apartment and into the parking garage without questioning why his vision was so bad. That is, until he began to put his car into reverse and heard a very long, very angry honk coming from behind him. Never trust Park Sunghoon to adequately check his blind spots.), standing in a particularly long line to pick up Y/N’s favorite drink, or even losing time to traffic.

In true Sunghoon nature, he was late.

Well, there were a variety of factors in play. Last night, he had pulled an all-nighter with Jake—his ever-faithful best friend, who just so happened to be one of Y/N’s close friends as well—to debrief the details of his confession. (Although Jake would argue that “attempt at a confession” would be a more befitting label.)

“Let me get this straight,” Jake says, punctuating his sentence by sitting up. His eyebrows furrow as if he is in deep thought. After a pregnant moment of silence, he continues, “Y/N invited you over, potentially under the assumption that you were going to confess, but nothing happened?”

“Yes, Jake, that’s exactly what happened. Nothing! I don’t even know how I could have fumbled that badly,” Sunghoon groans. “I just—”

“...fuck with her heavy?” Jake interjects with a teasing grin. In a drunken stupor many months prior, Sunghoon had admitted to him long-time crushing on Y/N by describing his affections as, candidly put, “fuckin’ with her heavy.” Jake cheekily reaches over and ruffles Sunghoon’s hair, much to the younger man’s chagrin. “Or, in your words, ‘just left but kept thinking about her’ even though you were barely one foot deep in your car?”

Leave it to Jake Sim to crush your dreams without trying.

Maybe trusting Jake to hold onto a secret was a bad mistake. What if he was a sleeper agent enlisted by Y/N to feed him propaganda? What if he was just putting thoughts into Sunghoon’s mind to deter him from chasing the girl of his dreams? Or, worse of all, what if Jake had a spycam installed in his glasses?

Maybe that was precisely it: his glasses—now glaringly obvious to Sunghoon that obviously they were Meta smart glasses all along—must have been streaming the conversation directly to Y/N so that it could expose each of his deepest thoughts. Maybe Jake Sim was a phoney best friend after all.

“—ello? Earth to Sunghoon? Dude, you gotta stop tuning me out. l abandoned my Valo match for this,” Jake whines. Laying back down, Jake tilts his once abandoned phone towards his face to check the time. “Don' even want to know how much RR I lost for leaving midway.”

This conversation was pointless. The word nothing kept playing in Sunghoon’s mind: nothing had happened, nothing had changed regarding his relationship with Y/N, and nothing was making it directly to Sunghoon’s anxiety riddled mind to assuage his stress. Maybe Jake’s glasses really weren’t recording their conversation. “Hey, come on man. Seriously, how’d it go?”

Apologizing, Sunghoon massages the crease on his forehead that had somehow grown between his eyebrows. He clears his throat a few times before dropping his voice to a near-whisper, still mildly paranoid the room was wiretapped: “The confession had gone like this…”

—

“Welcome back - I hope the traffic wasn't too bad,” Y/N teased, holding the door open. Sunghoon had made a mad dash up the stairwell—the elevator would have been far too slow for his impatient heart, which was beating ten times faster than ever before—as soon as he received the text. Knowing that the “door was always open for him” made him giddier than a soldier (he was too young for mandatory service) reuniting with his wife (neither person had made it out of the friendzone yet) after five years of active duty (more like five minutes).

In between breaths, he responded with “Calm five story—” a wheeze, “sprint, nothing a five minute—” gasp “session on the pseudo-StairMaster couldn’t beat, baby. Did you know your rent actually accounts for two gyms instead of one? Haha.” Doubling over as a few more coughs bubbled in his throat, Sunghoon awkwardly waddled out of the doorway and toward the kitchen to fix himself a mug of water.

("I'm staking a claim on this mug," Sunghoon declared, holding a hand-painted ceramic mug. Littered with doodles and plenty of stars, the mug was YN's magnum opus—in Sunghoon's eyes—and was created during a spontaneous afternoon trip out.

"It's all yours, dude, no one's gonna take that."

"Good, it's mine.")

Y/N, having witnessed Sunghoon’s anguish, rubbed soothing circles onto his back. “Thought I made you nervous, Hoon. You’re still using that nickname?”

Sunghoon gulped, shooting up. All of the energy and vigor suddenly rushed into his body. Maybe it was also fear—so much for trying to show off his insane athleticism. Was it bad that he hadn’t visited the rink in a while? Maybe he could use some more training. Would Y/N like someone that could do pirouettes on the ice and on concrete? Is it too late to start his training arc? “Why, why? Can I not call you that?” Simultaneously setting the mug in his hand down, he slightly tilted his head as genuine concern and confusion laced his voice.

Was he being too overbearing by flirting? He was toeing the line between affectionate and platonic with that name—sometimes he’d similarly call Jay “babe” or “baby,” but that was never in a romantic light. Not like how he meant it now.

“No, I like it when you call me that,” Y/N responded absolutely. Her smugness mirrored Sunghoon’s energy over text; nothing beats the confidence that iMessage Sunghoon magically had. Ironically, the strong persona he put on through text was far from reality. “Oh, but that reminds me. What did you want to tell me?” The dreaded question had finally come out. Thank you, autocorrect and predictive speech, for carrying Park Sunghoon so far through life until now.

Sunghoon began to walk towards the floor-to-ceiling window of the living room, staring at the view ahead of him. A perfectly lit view of the Han River and Nam Mountain Village: a stunning view courtesy of Y/N’s constant hard work and effort, which Sunghoon had always admired for all the years he had known her.

What a good life she had made for herself. How could Sunghoon ever fit into the perfect, idyllic life Y/N forged by hand? There was no way she could reciprocate his affections when her entire life was ahead of her, not when he was too worried to let the realities of his feelings leave his mind.

“Come here,” he beckoned.

The slight smile that remained Y/N’s face as she walked toward him left him dazed; this noncommittal facial expression, endearing despite its lack of real emotion, left little to assuage Sunghoon’s beating heart. “This is a nice view,” she acknowledged, eyes swimming through the ocean of lights and windows ahead of her. Turning to face Sunghoon, Y/N’s smile widened: “but it would be much nicer if you could tell me what's on your mind.”

If only it was that easy. The words lingered on the tip of his tongue: “I’m in love with you. Can I be your boyfriend?” Even simpler, he could’ve just asked “Will you be mine?”

Instead, fear got to the best of him. Sure, they had adopted a child together—a stuffed animal he had picked up in Japan, yes, but it was a child nonetheless. Y/N’s infectious grins and the kiss on the cheek he received that day begged to differ—but did that necessarily mean they had to be together?

Mentally calculating the cost of rabbit child support, Sunghoon decided that it was best to keep this confession conversation for another day. Is being an absentee plushie-dad really that horrible? Perhaps the safety net of being on iMessage really emboldened him too much (Heeseung would probably argue that this was one of the consequences of the industrial revolution).

“I just,” he frowns. “I’m um. Just thinking about how cheesy that drama you made me watch was. Seriously, baby, I don’t know how you sit through all of that fluff.”

“That’s what you ran up the stairwell for?” Y/N laughs. Sunghoon swears the lights in the apartment twinkled. Were the lights capable of syncing to music? “Well, I think you could’ve texted me this. Or we could’ve called. But I’m glad that you shared this information with me.” Is it possible to record someone’s voice and store it on Apple's podcast app forever?

If Jake was around, he definitely would be calling Sunghoon a coward: a traitorous coward who didn’t deserve to be part of his Fortnite Squad nor his Overwatch 5 stack. Maybe Sunghoon had hyped up his confession too much.

It would probably be a good idea to invite Jake over later tonight to rant.

“I guess so,” Sunghoon sighs—why was he so scared? It’s not like it was difficult to talk to his best friend. “I was just thinking about you so much that it transcended the bounds of iMessage. Can you blame me?” Where did this sudden courage come from? Feeling bold, he takes a few small steps and wraps his arms around the waist of the woman in front of him. Fuck being an absentee father; this was where he belonged. Still swimming off of the high of Jake-may-kick-me-off-his-roster-if-I-totally-fumble, Sunghoon leans over and mumbles “For you I’ll sprint up and down your real life StairMaster thirty times if I have to” directly into Y/N’s ear.

“I know you would—but only if I prepare water in your favorite mug ahead of time, though, right?”

Okay, maybe Jake Sim will beat his ass after this rollercoaster of emotions dies down, but at least he’s winning now. It’s all about tenses: Future Housewife Sunghoon - 0, Current Breadwinner Sunghoon - 1.

“You know me so well.”

—

“Bruh.”

“You really had to code-switch to your Australian accent for that?” Sunghoon’s jaw drops, uncharacteristically whining at his friend. “‘Bruh’ to you too, man. The confession wasn’t that bad, I promise!”

Laughter bubbles in Jake’s chest, breaking free between each syllable: “What confession? Buddy, you didn’t even tell her how you felt! You just told her her C-Dramas are cringe and that you’re a wannabe gym bro!” And fuck StairMaster.

“Well, I was getting there!” Nevermind the fact that Sunghoon’s “been getting there” for the last decade; progress is still progress. “And, for the record, I thought Hidden Love was good! I swear! I’m literally team Jia Xu!”

Jake continues to giggle, flipping over his phone to read the time again, “whatever, man. I believe you. Regardless, I’m gonna go to bed now—holy shit, how is it already 5 in the morning?”

Plush rabbits, Chinese romance shows, and Sim Jaeyun’s unadulterated hatred could wait. Sunghoon’s urge to kick his feet and scream into a pillow could not.

—

And maybe the fact that he was due to meet up with Y/N couldn't wait either.

do answer (future park yn) now

hii where are you :3

dont tell me there's traffic wherever u are bro its 11am

You

Um

Mahbe there's a bit of congestion n

Naybe*

MAYBE* Congestiin* IM OMW

STAY PUT IMSORRY

do answer (future park yn)

Park Sunghoon I Will Have Your Head Roasted On A Spit

oki ^.^ (with malice)

You

I’m driving with Do Not Disturb While Driving turned on. I’ll see your message when I get where I’m going. (I’m not receiving notifications. If this is urgent, reply “urgent” to send a notification through with your original message.)

do answer (future park yn)

URGENT

fuck you

Jk drive safe :P

To be fair, in all of his years of living, Sunghoon never once claimed that the P in Park Sunghoon stood for Punctual. (But, as drunken Sunghoon once argued: the A in Sunghoon does stand for Always on time!).

Sure, maybe he should've taken the Metro; maybe he should’ve walked; maybe he should’ve done anything but trust himself to freeball a schedule without having a means of accountability, but he was still just Sunghoon doing as Sunghoon does.

Despite the idea of always being late to functions most likely accumulating into karmic retribution or another ramification in some form, Sunghoon was able to instantly find parking. It only took a few overly wide right turns and a couple illegal merges—the G in Sunghoon stood for “good-ish” driver—for him to make it to the parking lot of the Starfield Coex.

Chronic lateness may be a trend for me, the voice in Sunghoon’s head reasoned, but at least I’m not absent. This is for you, D.Va. (Yes, he named his rabbit daughter D.Va after the greatest Overwatch tank character of all time. D.Va’s mother did not agree with this decision.)

—

ARE WE STILL FRIENDS? sunghoon mini sns au

part one | part two | part three

tag list [open]: @miniaturenami @yeodungiedelights

author's note: this is a weird intersection between a american/australian/south korean mix and. whatever the hell i got going on in my brain.

[salem-witch-slut]

These Trembling Hands(18+)

Sevika X Fem!Reader

SYNOPSIS: Since Silco died, you hadn't seen Sevika after months of her visits nonstop. When she finally comes back to the brothel, you couldn't help but notice one thing... She looked so, so tired.

WARNINGS: Descriptions of past sex (very minor), breast fondling (also pretty minor), only rated 18+ because dirty things were mentioned. Pretty tame overall. Brief mentions of SA of a minor (TRIGGER WARNING)

WORD COUNT: 4K (EXACTLY OMGGG)

A/N: This is a sequel fic to my Prostitution kinktober prompt. I loved it too much to hang it out to dry. And damn, you guys are eating that fic up. Over 1K notes in 2 days. Bunch of whores, the lot of ya!

DIVIDERS MADE BY @cafekitsune

You had heard rumors of Silco being killed, but that was all you heard of it. You could see from your shitty home terrace deep in the underground of the Undercity. People were scared, things were chaos, and the gangs were at war with each other. Without their leader, the Zaunites were rogue and killed whoever they saw fit. Luckily for you, you weren’t exactly a target as a brothel employee. 

It was more valuable to keep you alive, and everybody knew you were loyal to one Zaunite in particular that even after everything, she’s still as powerful as ever. Still a force to be reckoned with, but does not act unless prompted to. 

Sevika hadn’t been back to see you since Silco’s confirmed death. You simply assumed she had far too much work to do as the leader of keeping the peace between the gangs. Which was insane, because peace talks were never her job.

You hated to admit it… Oh, fuck that, you would scream it from the rooftops. You missed Sevika so bad. You missed her touch like it was what kept you alive. She saw you nearly every single week before Silco’s death and now the only way you know she’s alive is from the whispers on the streets. 

Every day you would come in and hope for her presence, but you were never lucky. You never got to see her handsome face and your body begged for an actual release, or that cool metal from her cybernetic arm. You loved the chills you got from the sharp talon like fingers raking over your rear and leaving marks in your skin. 

God, you missed her. You missed her husky voice, how she held you when you came on her fingers, how she encouraged you to bite her, the praise she gave, mixed with degradation… You were addicted to Sevika, and it was embarrassing. 

The entire staff knew about your obsession with her. She once left a handkerchief of hers in your room after she used it to wipe the sweat from her face and you kept it. Oddly enough, it smelled just like her and you simply enjoyed having it in your presence. Sevika made you feel wanted. Was that so wrong to love?

You kept it with you all the time. You had it in your pocket even as you walked into work that day. 

It was just like any other morning as you entered through the backdoors and got set up in your assigned room that you had, over time, personalized to fit your personality. You had a thing for dark candles and burning herbs that had been known to have relaxing properties. It made your life much, much easier and Babette encouraged it so you wouldn’t need to call out of work once again for your bruised cervix. 

You chewed on your thumbnail as you sat yourself down, prepared to get dressed in your signature outfit of dark colors that the clientele loved, when the curtain pulled back to your room without warning. Your entire body went rigid as you looked up, and your breath got caught in your throat. 

She came back! You tried to not let your excitement show as you stood up from your seat, cursing at your frumpy outfit. Baggy sweatpants and a baggy sweatshirt that kept you warm in the dark underground city. Your hair was a mess and you hadn’t done your makeup yet but she barely even blinked as she stood in the doorway. 

“S-Sevika, I–” You stuttered, looking at the cloak on her shoulder and then up to her face… Oh, she looked so, so tired. Her eyes had dark circles under them, partially bloodshot and her cheek was cracked, evidence from the overuse of shimmer from her cybernetic arm. She had a fading bruise on her brow, and healing cuts over her neck and near her cheeks. “Sevika?” 

The tall woman finally made eye contact with you and you watched her toss off her cape and throw it to the floor. You noticed her arm was missing, and there was a frayed wire sticking out of the socket. It looked like it was ripped out of the mechanics on her shoulder as she slowly approached you and made you stumble backwards until your legs smacked into the bed. 

Sevika watched you fall onto the bed, your face turning pink as she let out a long, big sigh and got down on her knees. For a second, you thought she was going to eat you out… But then you simply felt her head rest on your thighs and her arm wrap around your waist. 

“Sevika, are you–”

“I’m tired,” She said, her voice wavering and cracking. You could smell the alcohol on her body and you could feel your heart almost breaking for her. “I’m so… so tired…”

“Oh honey,” You cooed softly, your hands reaching up and gently rubbing at her scalp. The crime lord visibly relaxed, feeling you remove the hair tie from her brown strands as you slid it on your wrist and raked your fingernails over her head. “You must be just exhausted… You’ve been doing everything out there.” 

“Shit never stops,” Sevika pushed her nose into your thigh. “It’s always something… Someone is always getting killed, and I have to fix it. I used to be the one with the blood on my hands, and now I’m cleaning it off someone else’s.” 

“I know,” You said, combing your fingers through her hair. “You’re the best at what you do.”

“What I did,” Sevika scoffed. “Doesn’t matter now… It’s just me holding it together.” 

Words seem to fail you as you simply rubbed at the back of her neck, one hand sliding from her hair and down the back of her shirt, nails crossing over her skin and making the muscular woman shiver in your hold. This was completely different from what you two had grown used to. 

Normally, Sevika would be making you scream at this point. She would stretch you on her fingers and praise you as you pulled on her hair and called out her name like it was the last thing you would ever say. But now? Sevika was too exhausted to do anything… Why was she here then? Why not at her home, sleeping?

You sat there with her for almost ten minutes, simply playing with her hair and rubbing her back. After a while, you could feel her breathing get a bit heavier and you frowned, looking down and seeing how she was almost asleep in your lap. 

“Sevika,” You said gently, feeling her hand flex in your shirt as she looked up and then visibly relaxed at seeing your face. You smiled sweetly before scooting back on the bed and removing your sweatshirt. You flopped backwards in your plain white tank top before patting the space next to you. “Come here.”

“Y-You know, this isn’t what I pay for,” Sevika stuttered, her ears going pink for a second. You had never heard her stutter before! It was adorable. You simply rolled your eyes and reached out with both hands, undoing the fasteners on her shirt. The woman’s breath hitched as she went tense for a second, her hand reaching for your wrist out of instinct. “What are you–”

“Just relax,” You spoke softly, reaching up and sliding the shirt from her body down onto the floor. Underneath was a simple black stained shirt with tears near the collar. You scooted back once again and patted the mattress. “How long did you pay for this time?”

Sevika hesitated as she sat down on the edge of the bed, reaching down and undoing the buckles of her boots. “All day?” 

You chuckled, rolling your eyes and wrapping your arms around her waist. Sevika looked down, used to being able to reach down with her cybernetic arm but now it was simply phantom feelings. 

In seconds, you two were crawling into bed as Sevika immediately wrapped her arm around your waist and pushed her head against your soft chest, basking in your warmth and listening to your heartbeat. 

If there’s one thing you didn’t expect from today, it was this. You were expecting another hard, rough day with no rest and no breaks between clientele, but this was a very, very pleasant surprise. Your hands stayed put, rubbing at her back and holding her forearm that was draped across your middle. You could feel her breathing become more heavy, and you simply looked down before smiling.

She looked so peaceful… Her lips were parted slightly, the gap in her front teeth more prominent as she breathed heavily, a snore escaping her as she dug her fingers into your side. It was then that you realized something. Something that you definitely should have realized before after all these months with Sevika being your favorite client– No, favorite person.

You felt something for her. It went beyond simple affection or fascination with the woman. It was every time you saw her come in. You felt your heart skip a few beats and you were wrapped up in her arms almost immediately. Sometimes she stops by just for an hour, sometimes she’s here for almost four hours. But no matter how long, she never neglected your feelings. 

Sevika was a rough lover, but she was so good at taking care of you, even if her aftercare was slightly condescending. She would wipe you off while calling you a messy whore. She would wrap a blanket around your shoulders while gently slapping your cheek. She would laugh at you as you lay in the pile of pillows on the floor, but still managed to get you water if you asked nicely. 

And yet, even after all these months, there was one line you two had yet to cross, no matter how badly you wanted to. It felt too personal… A big jump between client and lover. Sevika couldn’t possibly see you like that. She pays for this. She has never attempted to see you outside of working hours, and you were sure she could easily find you. Not like you went anywhere outside of work and home and the occasional food stop. 

The thoughts plagued your mind as you watched her sleep on your chest, seeing her lips move as she mumbled something and pushed her face deeper into your tits. You raked your fingernails slowly over her back, being gentle enough to keep her sleeping, but not so light that it tickled and woke her up. You were fully content with being like this all day long. If she paid for an all day session, this would be more than enough to keep you happy. She didn’t even need to touch you to make you happy. Sevika being here was good enough for you.

As the time went by, you could feel your eyes growing heavy with every passing second. You wanted to close them so bad, but every moment with Sevika felt precious to you. You wanted to kiss her. You had never been able to do that before… you wanted to so badly, it was eating at your soul and making your heart race. Your stomach was filled with butterflies and part of you felt like you would throw up, but it was simply eating at you.

Would she push you away? Would she refuse to come back? Or worse, would she retaliate? It felt like Sevika liked you too beyond just a body to play with, but you weren’t sure… Well, asking was out of the question. You knew words would fail you and you would sit there stumbling on your sentences like a moron. This was your only option.

Very carefully, you slid down the mattress and felt her lift up her head so she could rest it on the pillow as you moved. Sevika made a face of disappointment as she opened her eyes and blinked a few times in order to readjust to the soft lighting of the room. From this close, you could see how the candles reflected off her irises and you could see the flecks of purple around the corner from when she would use shimmer. 

She stayed quiet, simply looking at you as you slowly reached down and grabbed at her hand. Her brows creased, seeing your slight distress and scooting herself slightly closer. Her body heat had your breath hitching. “What’s wrong, doll?” 

Fuck, that nickname made your heart flutter. It felt like a rabbit was kicking at your chest behind your ribs as your hand slid up the length of her arm. You could feel the muscles underneath flexing, almost like she was teasing you on purpose. Her body was solid muscle and all strength; with sharp edges and tough skin. You loved every single inch of her. 

“Sevika, I–” You tested your voice, and felt it crack like glass. Your face went pink as the smirk that did reside on her face slowly began to vanish. The silver irises glinted with confusion. She was genuinely concerned now as she saw, and felt your hand shaking as it slid up her arm and carefully rested on her cheek. 

“What are you doing?” Sevika asked, her voice barely above a whisper. You blinked slowly, biting your lip before scooting closer. 

A moment passed, and you simply couldn’t take it. “Screw it.” 

You grabbed the back of Sevika’s neck under her hair and pulled yourself upward, your lips finally connecting with hers. The woman went stiff, her entire body rigid against yours as her eyes widened and she made a noise of surprise. A noise you had never heard from her before. It made your legs press together as you refused to breathe until you separated from her. 

It scratched an itch deep in your brain that you didn’t know was eating at you. It felt like a hot shower after a cold day. It was like breathing after being underwater. It was everything you had expected… Minus Sevika not reciprocating… 

When you broke off from her lips, you saw that she was laying there in pure shock. Her eyes were wide and the hand on your hip twitched as you looked down, refusing to meet her eyes. You were worried now. She looked almost upset with you as you refused to meet her gaze, scared of the repercussions. 

“I’m sorry,” You said, close to sobbing. “I-I don’t know what came over me. I didn’t mean to overstep and I was just– I don’t know what I was–”

Your words were cut off as Sevika gently tucked her knuckle under your chin and tilted your head back up to meet her eyes. And you saw her cheeks tinted a soft pink and her eyes were sparkling. And that was the last thing you saw before she was jolting forward and recapturing your lips like she couldn’t live without it. 

Instantly, your hands went around her neck and you pulled her close, drowning in everything that was the woman named Sevika. How intense she was with every aspect of her life and how she gave 100% with all her actions, and that included kissing. Her tongue gently teased at your lips and you responded with your own, pressing it against hers and slipping it passed her teeth. 

Sevika groaned, grabbing at your hip and pressing your entire body against hers, allowing you to feel how warm her skin felt on your own. It was like touching a livewire; you couldn’t break away even if you wanted. You couldn’t get enough, and you wanted more. So, so much more…

Your stomach twisted in your gut as you began sitting up off the bed and before you could stop yourself, your legs moved until you were sitting on Sevika’s hips, holding her down and breaking off from the kiss for a brief second. 

There was a look in her eyes, almost like she was challenging you. Her brows knitted together as she panted, her hand curling against the bedsheets and her chest rising with each harsh inhale she took. Dear fucking Gods, she was sculpted by deities you didn’t even know existed. Her taut abdomen sucked in with each breath and you saw the outline of her abs through the shirt riding up on her waist. 

Maybe someone else would have been put off with her only having one arm, but you didn’t care. It didn’t diminish her strength, and she could fair fine without it. Even with just a hand, she was able to break you and you would thank her. 

“Someone’s being bold today,” It was that same flirty condescending tone she used with you all of the time. You ate it up as your fingers traced down her chest, between the valley of her breasts before stopping to trace a few little patterns into the flesh showing below her shirt. You felt her abdomen tremble at your touch, and you smirked. “Get that smile off your face.” 

“I can’t help it,” You said, fingers twitching as you reached forward a little more and began sliding her shirt upward to expose her stomach and staring at her chiseled muscles in full view. Your breath hitched and you felt your toes curl up. “So perfect…” 

Sevika groaned, putting her hand over her face and covering her eyes. Almost like she was embarrassed of your words, but that would be silly. Sevika doesn’t get embarrassed. She isn’t capable of that. Is she? 

The veins almost popped in her forearm as she grabbed her face, feeling your soft, uncalloused fingers stroke along her ribs and slide up even more. You could feel yourself getting wetter with each passing second as you breathed hard, licking at your lips. This was a huge moment for both of you.

You had never seen Sevika without a shirt before. Never seen all of her and hardly ever got to touch her like this. You felt like you were in control. This was insane. 

“S-Stop me if it’s too much,” You said, voice wavering as you pushed the shirt up the rest of the way. Your insides damn near melted at seeing her breasts for the very first time. You had a feeling it was just as strong as the rest of her, but you didn’t have proof until now. And another suspicion you had? Yes, her nipples were pierced. You fucking knew it.

“You done?” Sevika snapped, looking down at you and narrowing her eyes. You blinked, not realizing just how long you were staring at her until she knocked you out of your stupor. “Not some sideshow attraction here, doll.” 

“Really?” You chuckled, reaching up and cupping her breasts with both hands. “Because I think I should be paying to see you.” Your fingers traced over her piercings and Sevika gasped, her body jerking towards your touch like she was desperate for it. 

Sevika was a vision. And you were desperate to see more. 

It wasn’t long until you were reaching down for her belt and unzipping her pants when she reached out with her hand and grabbed at both of your wrists. You immediately stopped, looking down at her and seeing the wild look in her eyes and how her body was almost on the offensive. 

“Wait,” She pleaded. Your heart broke. “Just… just wait, please, give me just a minute.” 

“Sevika,” You frowned, releasing her belt and scooting closer towards her. Something was off about this, and you just had to know what was going on. “What’s wrong? Talk to me.” 

“It’s just that… I just…” Her entire face fell as she sat up and dropped her head down. Her hair covered her face as you reached forward and pushed it away to look at her. “No one has done that before. I haven’t… let anyone touch me like this.” 

“Honey,” You cooed, leaning down and looking into her eyes. Sevika pressed her lips into a thin line and looked up through her lashes, the bruises under her eyes more prominent from this angle. “Talk to me.” 

The woman scowled. It was an internal battle for her to admit any of this, especially to you. Sevika knew how you saw her, and this was just crossing some kind of line in her mind. You saw her as a strong, unmovable force that could never be injured or taken down. You saw Sevika as a god, and she was about to shatter that illusion. 

“It was when I was a kid,” Sevika admitted. “I was a scrawny little shit, you know? A gutter rat… an easy target,” For a brief second, her eyes watered but she blinked it away. “I didn’t stand a chance back then.” 

There was a moment of confusion before the pieces clicked into place and you felt your entire body go rigid. You felt sadness, empathy, compassion… rage. Pure, blood-boiling rage as you pressed a soft kiss against her forehead. You couldn’t show your anger, but you wanted to hunt whoever it was down, and watch them bleed out slowly. How could anybody do that to her? To a child?

“I’m sorry, I–”

“Don’t,” Sevika looked away immediately, her lips curling into an almost snarl as she looked down at the sheets, trying to distance herself. You tried not to flinch as you scooted back in the bed and gave her space. “I don’t tell people shit for that reason. I don’t need pity. I don’t want it either.” 

“Okay,” You bit down on your lip, tucking your legs under your body and putting both hands on your thighs. Sevika noticed your sudden change of attitude and she stood up from the bed. Before you could ask what she was doing, she started pacing back and forth, rubbing at her jaw and trying to sort out her thoughts. You sat there silent, scared if you said a word that she would snap and the moment you two shared would be over. 

It was almost three whole minutes before she stopped pacing. You felt like you were trapped in a cage with a wild animal. So unpredictable and volatile, but just scared of what you could do to them and they feel the need to defend their existence. Your heart went out to her, and you wish you could take back your actions because now everything was shattered, just as you feared. 

“What the hell are we doing?” Sevika muttered into her hand. She turned to look at you and saw that you weren’t looking up at her, and almost like it was happening in slow motion, a tear slipped down and splattered onto your leg. You didn’t look up… until she said your name. Your real name, not a nickname or pet name. 

“Look,” Sevika said, sitting back down on the bed and reaching out to take your face in her hand. You leaned into her touch and held back a whimper. “This all got out of hand… Somewhere between us, the lines started blurring. Went beyond me paying to fuck you–”

“You’re not coming back,” You shivered. Sevika visibly recoiled at your words. “Are you? I ruined this, and now you won’t come back again.” 

“Hey now,” The woman immediately grabbed at your chin and forced you to look up. “Don’t put words in my mouth, doll. I never said that.”

You whimpered. “Then… What are you saying?” 

A gasp left you as she pressed her lips into yours once again and sighed, her hand tangling in your hair and rubbing at the back of your neck. It was just as fucking amazing as before and you were visibly upset when she broke off.

“I’ve got a reputation to keep up, you know? We just… have to keep this quiet, understand?”

“You mean,” You said. “Like a secret?” 

“See?” Sevika chuckled before kissing your cheek. “I knew you weren’t dumb, sweetheart.” 

[im-probably-playing-genshin]

[h3artw0rms]

Jinx viewed death as something positive at most scenes, she didn't understand why people looked so scared when they died. At least when she was a kid/teen.

In her diary she said she believes in a sort of afterlife, or desperately wants to believe in one (heads up, there is a spirit realm in LoL but I don't know if Arcane will EVER address it) . "Vi and I will go there" as it was written in her diary. Not to forget the bridge scene where she wanted a merciful death with Ekko.

It makes me want to think if she was actively suicidal all the time or if death was just a constant thought in her head and she thinks about it whenever a moment is right for her, if you get what I mean?

Did Silco know of her death fantasies?

The bridge scene always made me wonder that in that moment, she wanted to die and accepted it, smiled even. She seemed like she didn't want to think about what she'd cause to Silco with this, that even with him together, saying in her diary they are both broken and perfect for each other, she considered death in the back of her head most of the time.

[incorrect-piltover-quotes]

Sevika: You wanna die?! There's easier ways to kill yourself!

Jinx: Yeah, like yelling at the woman who's holding the AK-47.

[incorrect-targon-quotes]

Leona: My girl is mad at me.

Leona: I hope I die.

[zairas-realm-gateway]

I am so, so sorry for hijacking your amazing comic with an analysis post but this comic has me fucking screeching! Fuckin' shaking!

Reading this comic made my insides ache and twist in indescribable ways. It makes my very soul scream out with need for others to understand the very delicate building blocks that make up Jayce Giopara. Before finding you, I have not seen another person that so openly picks up on the fragile pieces that Jayce is actually made up of under the inflated ego.

Word Count (below cut): 1.4k

I don't even know how to put into words all the feelings roiling up inside me. Panel 5 makes me want to scream. The insinuations and accusations facing Jayce so expertly expose little, subtle aspects of Jayce's character that are devastating flaws in the metaphorical armor that keeps Jayce safe and sane.

Down under the arrogance and self-importance is a bright and eager soul that's so, so naive (his voicelines are optimistic in a way that speaks of naivety to me) and a pushover. Jayce is easy to sway and throw off kilter. I see it two major places in the canon lore. Once is when Jayce doesn't defend Viktor when Viktor accuses Professor Stanwick (rightfully) of stealing credit for Blitzcrank's creation. It does not say in Viktor's lore that Jayce verbally denies Viktor's claims or call him a liar. It says that Jayce did not speak up at all, not even to ask for evidence. This tells me Jayce could not bring himself to go against his professor, a man of importance and high status above them both.

Which brings me to a point that I really, really need to remind people: before becoming the Defender, social position wise, the only thing Jayce has over Viktor is that he's from Piltover. Fans use "Giopara" as Jayce's last name but that's not his last name. He has no last name that we know of. He has no family, no money. Pre-Defender Jayce is just a pretty young man with high intelligence that gets passed around the Piltover clans like an unwanted puppy.

If I remember correctly, it doesn't explain why Jayce never sticks up for Viktor. It could be that he's scared if he speaks up, they'll kick him out of the academy. Or it could be that because Jayce naively believes in his own moral code so greatly that he actually believes everyone else lives by it too. Therefore he can't even conceive of a professor stealing from his student. Which would mean Viktor was lying but Viktor is Jayce's partner so he obviously wouldn't want to believe his partner is a liar. This leaves Jayce tied in a knot about what to do resulting in him just not saying anything, causing his first unintentional betrayal towards Viktor.

Lore canon evidence of Jayce being a pushover is the short story with Amaranthine. As we all know, Jayce thinks very highly of himself. He thinks he's too good to give his attention to anyone, even a little girl whose doll he could literally fix in like a minute. He denies helping her and is going to kick her out before they're attacked. After the battle, Amaranthine bruises his ego with a comment. His ego is his armor in life. And the tiny, well-placed attack on it is enough to make Jayce cave. He fixes the doll.

This all tells me that with a well-placed phrase, it would be easy to bring Jayce to heel. It tells me that Jayce is very weak-willed and easy to manipulate if you can get past his ego. Something you can also see in the lore when he goes to get his crystal back from Viktor. He's not there on pretense of glory. He's not even the Defender yet. He just wants his fuckin' research back. It's afterwards that he's toted as the Defender of Tomorrow. A choice, title, and position that Piltover made for him. Not something he made for himself. A title that wiggled into his brain and became his very identity. He was just a scientist until the Defender devoured him and pulled his every thought, every choice to fulfilling that position. Submitting so easily to the choice of Piltover and becoming their puppet, their doll.

In all of Jayce's lore, the only area where he is never a pushover is his moral and ethics code. It's so strong, so foundational to his very being that can't be worn down. Which is what causes the conflict with Viktor. Jayce will do just about anything to secure that people are safe, happy, and have all their human rights intact. Even if it harms himself by destroying what miniscule relationships he has.

But, for someone that thinks so highly of himself, he doesn't seem to put himself in the same category as those people he's fighting for. This finally leads us into the analysis of the comic properly.

As we all know, to Jayce and Viktor, science is the most important thing in the universe. They have different reasons for using it but still, science is their very life's blood. To Jayce, the science used to help and provide for people must take precedence above all else. Including himself. Because he's not a people, not really. People aren't passed from clan to clan like a bought animal.

So, if people need science and inventions to go about their happy lives then isn't it Jayce's duty to make sure people have those inventions? Morally, it'd be wrong to deny them things that would make their lives better. As one of the smartest people in Piltover, isn't it Jayce's sworn duty to do whatever he can to provide those inventions since no one else is as good as him? But science is expensive, inventions cost money. Money that neither Jayce nor Viktor have. But Jayce is the best so for sure he can get what they need.

Now, wouldn't it be just so very easy for a silver tongue to whisper into the ear of an egotistical young man and explain how surly the very best currency is the perfect young man himself? After all, he has so much to offer. He's smart, he's strong, and skilled, and so very, very handsome after all.

Surely there's many things such a perfect young man has to offer those in power. Blueprints and plans, patent promises, a bright smile, some arm candy… a warm body perhaps. The crystal bright pieces of Jayce's very soul.

Would it really be hard to convince such a naive, optimistic young man that he has everything he needs to get the resources he and his partner require? Oh, all the things he could create with those resources!

Would it be difficulty for wealthy, well-spoken nobles and househeads to convince the young man to give more and more of himself?

And maybe it's nice to be wanted. No one wants Jayce, not really. The clans that hold his apprenticeship want his brilliance but they do not want him. They don't speak with him or work with him, not really. No one likes him because he's arrogant and rude and tactless. And fine, that's just fine by him. He doesn't need them either! He works just fine on his own or with Viktor.

And his resource providers want him. So, that's enough, right? What's wrong with giving them more than maybe he's strictly comfortable with. But who cares, it's for a good cause!

Surely the people, the lovely citizens of Piltover, need all those amazing inventions rattling around in brilliant Jayce's head to make their lives better. As the smartest person there, of course it's his duty to provide what others can't. What's a little discomfort, a little loss of self, when he could be helping so very many people?! Helping people can't be a bad thing ever, right?

And then there's Viktor. The one person in Jayce's life that gets to see all of Jayce through hours in their shared lab. They're partners, rivals, the closest thing either of them has had to a friend in their whole lives.

Viktor is from Zaun. He sees the world in a light that the optimistic people of Piltover do not. He knows that the world works on greed. But he also knows that some costs are too steep, even for progress. He can see the bright and shiny pieces of his partner being chipped away as the houses of Piltover pull their marionette's strings.

Under Viktor's cold and standoffish nature is a warm heart. A kindness and compassion that he'll never be able to curb. Viktor loves people. People should be allowed to live, to be happy and healthy.

Jayce is a people. Viktor knows this, why does no one else?!

People matter above all else. Above morals, above ethics… above science even, it would seem.

Viktor's heart is too big. He does not like to see suffering and death. So, how can he watch suffering and death move in tandem with him each day in their lab? How can he not raise his voice when he spends his days watching a brilliant and arrogant soul turn into an insufferable doll before his very eyes?

What can be said, be done, when that doll stands so tall on self-importance that it cannot see that it is only a puppet on a frayed string?

[zztibranul]

LUNAR HALL OF FAME QUOTES!

i'm hilarious so here's some of my favorite quotes but also TW bc i am traumatized which means suicide jokes hahahaah

[roseamongroses]

with strange tenderness ch: 7/7

Melvika - Timebomb [side] Alternate Universe - Modern Setting /Alternate Universe - Small Town /Artist Mel Medarda/ Muse! Sevika /Court Mandated Found Family/ Sevika Does Not Get Paid Enough (Arcane: League of Legends)/ Retired! Sevika/ Parental Death/ Past Traumatic Events/ Past Violence & Stalking/ Mild Sexual Content/ Dog/Cat Dynamic/ Canon-Typical Exploitation of the Working Class/Mentions of Police Brutality/ Suicidal Ideation/Surviors Guilt/ no beta we die like Silco/ Vitiligo! Mel/ repeated silco slander/ Hurt/Comfort/ Past Child Abuse/ Past Neglect/ Domestic Fluff

-

[1]/[2][3][4][5][6]/[7]

ao3

-

Fists aching, blood pooling thick, warm. A trickle of red escaped the cracked corners of her mouth. A rotten taste she caught on her tongue before she spat it out into the snow.

Her head throbbed hearing those distant sirens, dizzying for her ringing ears.

Sevika stared up and up, falling flurries twinkling in that dark night. Kissing her skin, each embrace colder than the last. Dark eyes, dull, listless. She counted each one, soon forgetting what number she said last, seconds and minutes blending together.

And in spite of it all, she smiled. A throaty laugh threatening to escape at the absurdity of what she had realized. That it was this--the blood, the aches, that throbbing rush that came with uncertainty-- that finally got her dead heart beating faster and faster.

She got up--boots heavy against the asphalt.

-

An endless sky—distant clouds swooping in and out with each swing. Heart beating faster and faster—until she let go. The swing rattled, her wild curls flying back, eyes sparkling as she flew up.

Then—Isha tumbled back to earth.

Snow and sludge coated the sides of her body as she hit the ground with a thud. Her head lolled a bit, breaths sharp as her world went a little dizzy.

Sevika’s head snapped up at the sound, feet moving in an instant, “Isha—” she cursed under her breath.

Isha giggled--short hiccups that climbed her throat all at once. She beamed up at that shadow blocking the looming, afternoon sun.

Dark eyes squinted--looking her over, weary, like they always did. Sevika leaned down, grasping her arms and lifting them out of the snow. She brushed the gunk off of them, picking up the beanie that had fallen off and pulling it over her hair and ears, snug.

Steady on her feet again—Isha rushed back to the swings.

She liked that flightless, floating feeling.

Air crisp—clean—no cars to be seen or smelled. She liked the dirt—the rich earth smell, the biting frost clinging to her skin. How she could run around until her legs ached--not worried about stumbling into a busy street or sidewalk that had no patience for little feet. She liked the quiet of the early mornings at the park—how the city sleeps and wakes slow, gentle. No constant sirens—no screaming—no grasping hands and snarled faces on each corner. How she could always look up and see nothing but sky for miles it seemed. Like she could stay in this dream forever, safe, warm. How she could let go--be flightless. She knew there was always someone there to pick her up and dust her off--again--and again-- when flies too high and falls even harder.

Isha liked Zaun.

-

Little feet tap-tap-tapping--down the hall before she skidded around the corner.

“Isha--give it back,” Jinx lunged, nearly hitting the wall as she followed, fuzzy socks slipping.

Isha waved her little finger back, clutching the scrapbook to her chest. She ducked under the kitchen-table, crawling between the chairs and legs until she was comfortably squeezed behind the wall and Sevika’s chair.

Startled at the intrusion, Vi craned her head, squinting under the table confused.

Sevika adjusted her glasses, evenly sipping from her mug as she sorted through the papers scattered across the kitchen table. She did not look up.

Jinx huffed, circling the kitchen table for an opening. Seeing no--non-desctructive path before her, she looked between the so-called-fucking-adults, hands twitching, “Tell her to give my shit back--” she snapped.

Vi raised her hands, defensive, “Ain't my kid, ain’t my place.”

Nostrils flaring, Jinx’s eyes narrowed at Sevika,

Sevika reached for the pen, twirling it idly between her fingers, “When’d you put a dent in my truck?” she asked, pen clicking as she started striking through some lines of text.

Jinx blanched, taking in a breath, “I…never took your truck, how would I know?” she craned her head, squinting under the table, ire rising, “I didn’t do shit--she took my--”

Sevika raised an eyebrow.

“I didn’t--I--” Jinx blew her bangs out of her face, rolling her eyes, “This is fuckin bullshit,” their eyebrows arched higher, “...Three days ago,” she admits with a huff, “It's not even all that big--”

Another line of text was struck through, dark eyes narrowing, “You’re paying for the repair,” Sevika said, scowling. She then reached back, pulling a twenty from her pocket and passing it under her chair.

Isha slid the scrapbook out.

Jinx's eyes darted around wild, realization setting in as she snatched it up,“Did you plan this--?” she hissed out, hugging her scrapbook, “What the hell--”

“Don’t take my shit--I won’t take yours.”

“Fantastic parenting,” Vi drawled, sarcastic. She picked up the cereal box, shaking it out into her open mouth.

“--Not a parent.”

Vi let out a throaty laugh in disbelief, “Su-” she nearly choked, swallowing before shaking more cereal into her mouth.

Jinx’s brain halted its rapid spiral, body stilling. Her head swiveled, attention narrowing in on her sister, watching as she shook the cereal-box until only crumbs fell into her mouth, “Is that…the last of the Lucky Charms?”

Vi froze, swallowing thick “...No-” she said, mouth full. Stray, delicious crumbs falling everywhere.

Underneath the table, Isha froze, nose twitching. She tucked her twenty between her teeth, eyes narrowed as she began army-crawling forward.

Sevika got up from the table, chair scuffing. She laughed, sending Vi a look that could’ve been mistaken for pity if it wasn’t for that bitch of a smile.

Isha launched forward, grabbing Vi’s legs with a deathly grip right as Jinx flung onto her back. Barking laughter and shouts filled the room as they all squabbled.

-

On Isha’s bed, there was a mountain.

A mountain of soft. A teetering lump filled with socks, blankets, pillows, stuff-animals. Anything she could swipe. At the end of each day, she crawled into the mountain, burying herself deep in its warmth.

At the beginning of each day, she surveyed her spoils and decided which one she’d take to school. Something she could fit in her book bag that she could squeeze when she was in timeout or waiting for end-of-day pick up.

Lately it had been the same scarf—wide, white like snow, and fluffy. She wrapped it around her face, taking it everywhere and petting it like a puppy.

Mel had never asked for it back. Isha would never ask if she wanted it back.

It was the perfect exchange.

Until little Billy-bitch fest snatched it during recess and refused to give it back.

So Isha did what most children of Zaun do when faced with displeasing, unforeseen circumstances.

“Ma’am we do not tolerate this type of behavior--” Isha’s teacher explained, deeply exasperated. She was young, a decent educator who was holding onto her first job for dear life, “She cannot keep doing this every time she doesn’t get her way.”

It was only because of that begrudging respect that Sevika chose her words carefully, “He stole from her, what else do you expect?”

The Other Mother, sat across from them, gasped, “She bit him,” she said, smoothing her son’s hair. The boy was completely checked out of the conversation, rubbing his face into the scarf.

‘Snotty nosed--thieving ass --bitch--’

“Barely,” Sevika said with a snort, “And she did ask for it back, multiple times,” she reminded them, before leveling a glare at the woman,“He still has it,” she said, a snarl on her lips.

“W-well-- she can’t speak so clearly there must’ve been a misunderstanding,” The Other Mother stammered, scooting away a smidge, “He likes the scarf--that isn’t a crime. And the other kids always share with him.”

Isha seethed.

She could talk--her hands could speak plenty loud. And when people couldn’t understand the simple shake of a head--she had other ways. She might not speak, but she could use her fucking teeth just fine.

Sevika’s hand squeezed Isha’s shoulders as she spoke, “Some kids want to share, others don’t. Neither you or your son should take advantage of the fact that she’s non-verbal to do whatever you want,” she gritted out, nostrils flaring, “He didn’t listen--she almost bit him. You’re lucky it didn’t escalate further.”

The teacher looked between the two, increasingly panicked, “That doesn’t excuse the fact that a student was almost harmed, “The teacher chides, “This has happened far too many times. What if it did escalate? Charges could’ve been pressed. ”

Sevika sighed, deeply exhausted, “Stealing is also a crime,” she said, her patience running thin, “Do we really want to involve the law over bullshit like this? They’re eight fucking years old. ”

“You’re right--” The Other Mother chimed in, “Let’s settle this like adults. How much is the scarf? We’ll buy you another so Billy can keep this one,” Both Isha and Sevika sent her incredulous looks as she continued, “It really helps with his self-soothing. You must understand I can't bear to make him part with it. ” she explained, rummaging through her purse for her wallet.

Sevika looked up for a moment, muttering to herself, before taking out her phone and texting for a moment. Her eyebrow arched at the response. Without another word, she raised her phone towards them.

The Other Mother squinted at the phone, before her face fell, looking a bit pale,“...Billy give back the scarf,” she muttered, shoving her wallet back in her purse and grabbing her keys.

“But Mommy I like this scarf--”

The Other Mother sent him a strained smile,“Give back the scarf,” she gritted out.

Isha got back her scarf.

Sevika zipped up her coat, pushing her beanie down around her ears, muttering about the cold. Isha petted her scarf, bumbling after them towards the truck, serene again.

-

Gentle tugs of the comb through her hair, light snips of the scissors, deft hands rubbing oils into her scalp. Mel worked the remaining gunk out of Isha’s hair patiently, the girl squirming on the stool.

Sevika stepped into the bathroom door right as she finished up. She leaned against the door, watching Mel fuss over the girl, “Dinner’s ready,” she said, remembering why she came in here, then she added, “It looks good.”

Clean curls, shortly trimmed. Bangs framing her face gently and brushing the tops of her ears. The uneven, jagged lines were smoothed out-- all traces of the gum removed.

Isha studied her appearance carefully, pinching at a strand, before nodding.

Mel hummed, pleased at the approval. She tousled Isha’s hair one last time, soft perfume wafting as she leaned down, “So pretty,” she cooed.

Isha’s nose scrunched, shaking her head.

Mel thoughtfully paused, “Beautiful?”

Another shake.

Isha didn’t like that one either--it felt strange. Made her skin crawl.

When she thought of pretty--beautiful--she thought of soft manicured hands, flowery perfume, a white scarf wrapped snugly around her, and an accented voice that never yelled no matter how much the girl fidgeted or fussed.

She wasn’t ugly--she knew that. But it didn’t feel right and she wasn’t entirely sure why.

Bright eyes met hers in the mirror, before Mel asked, “Hm…what about handsome?”

And at that--Isha’s heart hitched for a moment.

She liked that one.

Isha hesitated before nodding. Her cheeks flushing red as she sent the woman a small smile.

Mel smiled sweetly at her, starting to slowly gather the hair products cluttering the counter and putting them away.

Sevika stared at the girl, raising an eyebrow.

Isha narrowed her eyes at them, scowling as she hopped off the stool and disappeared out of the bathroom in a huff.

The old lady was so nosy.

Mel chuckled, closing the cabinets.

“What’s with her?” Sevika asked, thoroughly confused.

Mel sideled next to her, looking up through her eyelashes, “She gets it from you, y’know,” she teased, hand trailing from their shoulders before settling on her bicep, hand curling around the firm muscle. Her heels lifted, mouth ghosting the shell of their ear, “I could look at you all day. Strong jaw…pretty eyes…that cute gap in your teeth when you smile--when you bite. You’re so…” those slender fingers squeezed again before slipping down her side, stopping above her waistline where her boxers peeked out from her pants, “Handsome. It’s a little infuriating. I have to watch you work so hard, looking this good, knowing I can’t…” her voice lowered as she spoke, fingers stroking her waistline, every-so-often dipping underneath.

This woman…

A warmth flushed Sevika’s cheeks as she listened, fingers twitching as Mel not-so-subtly talked her through--well--everything. Briefly she wondered if this was for later--or if she was getting dragged to the bedroom.

But before Sevika made the decision for them, Mel stepped away. She slipped past her, a sway in her hips as she looked over her shoulder with a coy smile.

Sevika followed with an unhurried gait, a glint in her eye. -

Sharp breaths—cold sheets, that metallic smell fresh in her nose.

Isha woke up—heart beating fast—fast—faster. She crawled out of her mountain of soft, feet patting softly against the floor as she creeped out of the room and down the hall.

Isha pushed into Jinx’s room, head peeking around the corner.

Thumping music, a neon purple light filling the room. Jinx sprawled across her bed, feet kicking along to the beat as she painted her nails. On her pillow, her phone was propped up--Ekko snoring away on face-time.

At the sound of the door, Jinx looked up, flashing her a grin. Isha wiped her eyes, picking her way through the junk in the room and climbing into the bed. She sank into the giant stuffed rabbit by the wall, holding onto its chewed up arm and petting it gently.

Isha zoned out, letting the music wash over her and wash away the bad memories. Jinx glanced back, thoughtful, before she rolled over, ruffling the young girl’s hair, “You good now?”

Isha frowned, shaking her head, hands still--words lost.

“You wanna a snack?” Jinx asked instead, “It might make you feel better.”

Isha nodded and Jinx hopped to her feet, braids swinging as she shuffled to the kitchen, nodding along to her headphones. Then--she abruptly stopped.

The stove light was still on, casting a muted, orange glow in the kitchen.

Sevika stood with her back to them, cropped hair falling forward as she looked down. Slender arms slipped over her shoulder, manicured hands painted gold, reflecting the dim light softly. Mel let out a sigh, eyes closed, face tucked into the crook of their neck. Sevika held her by her waist, the pair swaying--faint murmurs kept close between as they danced to that unheard music.

It didn’t seem like they noticed her yet, lost in their own little world.

Jinx watched them for a moment, head tilting a bit before she averted her eyes. She snatched the bag of oranges on the table quick, her footsteps light as she retreated back to her room.

-

Silco wasn’t always home.

Most of the time he let Jinx tag along when he was working. She was always hanging off his desk or clinging to his chair, watching those strange people and stranger deals. Rattling mind--avidly soaking up every detail.

But on the odd chance that he left her behind, she’d get a babysitter.

That woman--three times her size, boots twice as heavy.

Sevika always had a nasty snarl on her lips. Those dark eyes, scrutinizing the young girl, before looking away. She always looked away.

Everytime Jinx was left in that penthouse, the halls sprawling, empty, and cold. Sevika would have to drag her ass up there too--bloodied, bruised, eyes glazed over, hand gnarled. She’d push through the doors, sit on the couch, turning on the T.V as she threw back a shot and stitched up her wounds. She’d watch anything--the news, medical dramas, women’s basketball, cartoons--no discernable preference for most of the noise. She’d always make food--she said it was a waste of a nice kitchen to always eat out. She’d always leave Jinx an extra plate of whatever she made in the microwave.

Jinx doubts Silco ordered her to go that far, after-all the girl was more than capable of taking care of herself. She was a genius, a bright mind, better than the rest, his student, his heir.

So she didn’t need any of it. She could work a phone and swipe a card just fine.

And she knew Sevika didn’t like her much. The poking, the constant prodding, the daily fits of clawing hands and nightly terrors that made the walls shake. She set the woman on edge--she could tell.

And yet.

There she was--without fail.

Over those years, Jinx has seen a lot of people come and go and go--and go. Her tongue heavy with copper, her eyes bloodied over red.

She doesn’t remember a time where Sevika wasn’t there.

A world without Silco--she’s had to confront everyday, every night, every dream, every memory. It was a cold, unrelenting truth that washed over her body, pulling her out to sea and not letting her break the surface for air. Only salt and grime pooled into her lungs, the taste of guilt heavy.

It was all her fault--she doesn’t feel bad at all--or did she? She wasn’t sure. How she felt about him came and went with the seasons. That man--that monster--her father--her mentor--her family. He was there when everything in her life fell apart, holding her head above water. Letting her bite the wind and lose herself in its charm.

And yet--when she needed him the most, he was gone. It was her fault, of course--but she wasn’t sure how to feel about that--about him.

But when she thought of Sevika facing the same fate, she knew with certainty--

Jinx would miss her.

She’d miss her like she missed Vi--waiting, calling, desperate for an answer and being forced to watch those bright eyes fade year after year.

Like how she missed her parents--her friend’s parents, her neighbors. One day they were there--then they weren’t.

She’d miss her like she’d miss Isha--separated after a few scant months of knowing each other. Not knowing if she had the right to call her sister--knowing the system didn’t care what they called each other.

She’d miss them like air, like a heart beating--she doesn’t know when she started to feel that way. She doesn’t know what changed.

But, she remembers one night.

The terrors came most nights, but that night she woke up shaking, drenched in sweat, and scrambling for the bathroom. Dazed, she walked the halls--pale walls, pale floors, an unending blank--white. She stopped by Silco’s door, trembling hand grasping the doorknob, knowing that tonight, no one would answer.

Jinx drifted into the living room, following the faint noise of the T.V playing. She climbed into the couch, balling up tight.

Sevika didn’t comment, moving her legs out the way to make space, eyes fixed on the screen.

Inhale--exhale--inhale--Jinx’s breaths quieted, legs no longer shaking. That heart-beating slow and slower. Only then could she process what they had been watching.

A black and white movie--one she didn’t recognize. A piano plinking in the background, an old couple swaying together in the kitchen, lost in each other’s arms. The end credits played, then the screen went dark.

Sevika stared at the dark screen for a long time, fingers drumming against the couch. Then she reached for the remote and replayed the movie. Again and again--and again. The couple met, they fought, they fell in love--and stayed. Each time they decided to stay, tears and all.

Dark eyes--unreadable. That slow, plinking piano, those tapping fingers, the mumbled dialogue on screen--a lullaby that quieted the noise.

Jinx woke up the next day--mouth dry--a blanket thrown over head.

She could smell eggs cooking.

-

A severe-faced woman, missing one-too-many teeth, was wearing a fluffy pink-striped robe and bunny slippers. She sat at the kitchen table, bouncing her baby sister in her arms--eyes bouncing between the couple. Opal was promised a nice breakfast after one--too--many impromptu date nights left her with baby-sitting Isha. She didn’t expect a show as well.

“You think we should hold off ‘till after the break?” Sevika questioned, readjusting her glasses and pushing a stray strand of hair out of her face, deep-set lines in her face, eyebags darker than usual. In front of her there were various stacks of papers and sticky notes littering the table, plates of steaming bacon, eggs, and pancakes sitting on top of the work.“We could lose momentum.”

Mel sat on the other side of the table, a sleek laptop in front of her, “We will lose momentum,” she muttered, fingers flying as she typed, her eyes scanning the screen. She only stopped on occasion to pick at her bowl of fruit, “Its the holidays, people will pull away for family, vacations--just to rest. Everything will go on hold regardless.”

“That’s why we should escalate now--” Sevika countered, reaching across the table to snag a piece of pineapple before her partner could get it, “They’re comfortable--they’re not expecting it. Now would be the perfect time keep the pressure building.”

Mel bit her thumb, brows furrowing a bit, reaching for a grape instead--batting Sevika’s hand away before they could snatch that too, “I suppose, but if we want to escalate--we need better measures to mitigate harm. I’ve reached out to a few people interested in helping with the legal side of things, but most won’t be available until after the holidays.”

Sevika frowned, rubbing her chin, troubled, “The turn around rate for the school is high--we might be working with completely new staff by then. And waiting might give them the chance to hide their trail--”

The pair went back and forth on the subject for a while--proposing different variables, cost, risks--neither quite budging on their positions.

Mel sighed, standing up with a stretch before heading into the kitchen. The faint whirring of the coffee machine was heard, the smell thick in the air as she made another cup.

Opal watched her go, snagging another piece of bacon,“Y’all always argue during breakfast?” she asked, swallowing it one bite and grabbing another piece.

Sevika frowned, a bit confused, “I agree with her, but the decision isn’t ours to make. We need to discuss it with the group at the next meeting.” she explained.

“...So why were you disagreeing with every point then? ” Opal asked, equally confused, but her attention shifted as her baby-sister farted, startling themselves awake. Her lips curled, groaning internally.

At her words--Sevika’s lips twitched, “She helps me think,” she said, like that made any fucking sense.

Opal eyed them strangely, standing and grabbing her diaper bag, “Uh-huh…” she said, then--she realized, “Ugh--gross.”

“What?”

“This is some fucked-up, foreplay, ain’t it?” Opal accused, squinting at them.

Sevika neither confirmed nor denied that.

Mel returned from the kitchen, three mugs balanced in her hands. She set each one down, before stopping in front of Sevika. A slender hand grasping their chin--dark eyes fixed up, waiting. She studied them for a moment, eyes narrowed. Then she turned their head firmly, leaning down to kiss their cheek. Only then did she go sit down, resuming her typing without another word.

Sevika picked up her coffee, sipping it, looking smug.

“...Thanks hun,” Opal said, taking a sip of her own coffee, deciding it’d be best to mind her business. Then she set the mug down, leaving to find the nearest flat surface.

-

Mel bit her lip, eyes narrowing with concentration as she moved about the kitchen. She recited the instructions under her breath, then asked, “Like this?

Sevika was close behind, hands—metal and skin—settling on her hips as she watched over her shoulders. Mel adjusted the heat for each pot, lifting one top to show them.

“Mhm,” Sevika said, eyeing it with approval. Her head dipped down, hands digging into Mel’s hips as she pressed against the woman--that loose night-gown thin, “Just like that--” she said, voice rough in her ear.

-

Inch by Inch--they guided her down—

“Mhm, just like that—”

-

“—Sevika!” Mel’s head snapped back, those hands--kneading--keeping their bodies flushed together as they wandered lower and lower, “I’m trying to focus,” she complained, eyes darting across the stovetop at all the little pots.

“I’m helping.”

“No you’re not--” Mel hissed, not buying it at all, “You’re trying to drag me back to bed.”

-

“If you want it—you gotta work for it, princess,”

Reclined back, arm thrown behind her head, Sevika flashed a crooked smile. Dark eyes fixed--watching those thighs tremble. Jerking hips--stuttering to keep pace. Bright eyes panting--pleading. Her hands clenched their shoulders tighter and tighter, desperate for release, nails breaking skin--red.

Sevika inhaled sharp, heart beating-- faster and faster.

That sweet mouth--those lips--those noises.

She couldn't get enough of her.

-

“Am I?”

“Yes, you are—“ Mel grumbled, nose in the air, “Everything has to be perfect. There isn’t time to mess around. ”

“I’m enjoying my gift.”

Mel rolled her eyes, “You’ve enjoyed it plenty,” she said, dry.

Sevika played with the edge of her night-gown, “But--”

-

“—you take it so well.”

-

Mel closed her eyes with a huff. She was more than a little hot and bothered--but. Opening her eyes, she reached for the towel, wiping her hands, “Move—I’m done,” she said, feeling them step away at once. She glanced back, smiling a little bit seeing those big, dark eyes watching--waiting. “You… can finish up here if you want to please me so badly,” she added, teasing.

Sevika’s fingers itched, watching those hips swing as she passed.

-

Neat, brown paper wrapped around a bouquet of soft white and gold. Elora fidgeted with it in her lap, that perpetual line between her brow, stark, “Is it too much?” she wonders outloud, “What if she doesn’t like it?”

A lithe hand reached towards her, fingers intertwining, “She loves flowers, she loves you—she’ll love the gift,” Lest reassures, voice low and comforting. She crossed her long legs, leaning closer to her fiance—the layers of fur draped around her shoulders easily filling the space between, “What are you really worried about, darlin’?”

Elora looked pensive, thumb tracing her fiance’s ring--a habit she soon acquired after their engagement, “It's been… so long since I’ve seen her,” she admits with a sigh, “We talk all the time, but…you can hide so much over the phone.”

Lest could understand her concern. Even when she was dating Mel, it was hard to get a good read on how she felt—and it was the main reason they’d broken up.

Trying to decipher every word—every touch. She was always so far—bright, a twinkling lovely light, untouchable. It made her own insecurities at the time that much worse—knowing that nasty woman was always in Mel’s ear. Deep down--fearing that she might be right—that she was making that bright woman so much worse.

Now she knew it wasn’t like that at all. Sometimes she wondered what they could’ve become without that interference, but that love had long-since changed. It morphed into something different, but better for their relationship long-term.

Elora raised Lest’s hand to her mouth, kissing her lightly, “Now you’re the one worrying,” she chides fondly, watching how her fiance's nose twitched, those rich eyes lost—distant.

Lest closed her eyes, long, dark lashes dusting her cheeks—caught, “We worry because we care,” she murmurs, heart fluttering like it was the first time. Again and again--Elora saw her so clearly. That soft sweeping love took her off guard each time, like the last rays of a waning light. That sun sitting low on the horizon, flooding the world with its final cry, promising to rise again. Light, gentle, warm against her skin, no matter how rough life gets.

“What a heavy burden we bear, indeed,” Elora mused, thoughtfully watching those hills roll past, then hesitating she asked, “…What do you know about her partner?”

“Oh, so you do want to know?” Lest laughed, seeing her pout. She tilted her head, mischief playing on her tongue, “What happened to giving Mel privacy? Not wanting to pry?”

That particular reveal came out of nowhere. Mel had brought it up towards the end of one of their private meetings apparently. A casual, fleeting explanation for why she was behind schedule. But, she didn’t offer any other details--other then that look she sometimes got, lost in thought. A look they hadn’t seen in a long time.

“It's different now,“ Elora insisted firmly, “We’re about to meet them. I should know what to expect.”

And she should know whether or not she’s needed to extend their trip to shake sense into her friend. It was a practical train of thought considering Mel’s upcoming schedule. It was almost a new year of new beginnings—she refused to let any ill will follow them into it.

“Sevika is…older.”

Eloras head snapped up, eyes narrowed, “How old?”

“Not that much older,“ Lest teased, painted lips curled.

“You’re having too much fun with this,” Elora sighed, shaking her head.

“Baby, I hardly ever see you get so worked up,” Lest purred, thoroughly amused, “What do you want to know? I’ll answer you, promise.”

Elora only had one question, “Are they a good person?” she asked, those dark eyes as soft as the horizon she watched.

Lest thought it over for a moment. Her youth was filled with painful, but fond memories —smelling of bitter smoke and cold winters. Hiding under the bleachers until the tardy bell rang, trading homework answers for lipgloss, climbing that old tree--stars in her eyes and a wish on her lips. Looking back, she would’ve never guessed how soon it’d come true.

Then she answered.

-

Red.

Velvet dark enough to be mistaken for black. Black and white plumes trimming the deep curve of that sweet-heart neckline, softly curling underneath her collarbone and exposed shoulders. The dress clung to her every curve, swooping low in the back and revealing her toned, slender waist. Sheer, long gloves glinted with gold, matching her dangling earrings and the delicate necklace Sevika had surprised her with that morning. Her hair was piled high on her head into a bun. Her locs shaped like little petals unfurling from a blossom, stray strands framing her face.

Mel glanced at her through the mirror as she finished applying that dark lip, “Did you need something?” she asked. On closer inspection there were the gold freckles applied to her skin. They reflected with every slight movement, that smattering of light making her glow all that brighter.

Sevika…forgot why she came into the bedroom. “You’re….wearing red,” she managed, a little dazed. She had fully expected Mel to keep her little snowflake schtick going--so it wasn’t entirely irrelevant.

“Oh am I?” Mel squinted at her, amused, “I suppose it would be a bit strange for you to see, but they are the family colors and all. My brother’s a stickler for tradition, ” she explained, tucking away her lipstick, patting away at the corners of her lips with a small cloth, "Anything else you’d like to share?”

“Can you keep this on--after the guests leave?” Sevika asked, rather distracted as she counted the gold clips scattered in her hair. Everytime she looked, there was always something new.

Mel’s head turned--she changed her usual blush--keen eyes, lips softly pursed as she thought. All signs of that flustered, frustrated woman from earlier were smoothly wiped away.

Sevika was fond of her in every way.

But there was something about Mel in her element that felt different. The composure, the attention-to-detail, the confidence--the control she had over a room, knowing they’d all be looking at her.

It scratched an itch Sevika didn’t get a chance to indulge in often.

That need to get down on her knees and--

“Sure,” Mel said, agreeing far too easily. She reached for her perfume, spritzing her cloth and dabbing lightly at her collar bone and behind her ears. An elegant finger tugging down slowly the neckline of her chest, adding perfume between the valley of her chest, “As long as you behave.”

-

Jinx leaned on the door frame, arms crossed, “Are you sure you don’t want to stay?” she grumbled, looking off.

She was not pouting. She wasn’t.

Ekko smiled faintly, eyes soft, “Parties aren’t really…my thing,” he said, adjusting his grip on the plate wrapped in tinfoil.

It wasn’t a lie… but it wasn’t entirely the truth.

They had been visiting Dr. Medarda’s studio that day when she’d initially invited him to the dinner-party. However, once Jinx stepped out of the room, Dr. Medarda quietly disclosed that due to her brother’s visit there would be armed security present.

Initially, he took it as a fucked up, rich person threat to act right. But he realized--she was genuinely trying to see if he’d be comfortable with it.

He wasn’t.

It didn’t seem like Dr. Medarda was either, but she seemed…resigned.

Most people in Zaun were pretty comfortable with guns. The hunting, the shooting ranges, and the works, but--

Dark uniforms--smashed windows--the smell of copper--a steady hand going limp.

Red--staining everything. It never washed out--no matter how many wishes he made.

He couldn't stand them.

Jinx watched him, a strange expression appearing then disappearing in the blink of an eye, “Text me when you get home?” she asked, head bobbing to the side, those curled pieces of hair framing her face like flowering vines.

Ekko nodded, glancing at his watch to check the time.

“Oh--Ekko?”

“Hm?”

Jinx pointed up, crooked finger wagging a bit.

Ekko followed her direction, spotting green and red tapped hastily to the top of the doorframe--mistletoe.

That wasn’t there--

Before he could process it, Jinx leaned over, quick. Nubby fingers squeezed his shoulder, heels lifting as she kissed him on the cheek, “Merry Christmas, rabbit,” she whispered with a giggle--pulling away and disappearing behind the shut door.

Ekko blinked, a bit dazed.

Then--a slow creeping flush heated his body all at once.

-

Sevika adjusted the dupatta draped around her shoulders to the left, fabric falling in waves over her prosthetic arm. She watched the shiny cars pull into the driveway one after the other, dark tinted windows a nostalgic sight, “What’s your brother like?” she asked.

Dark suits climbed out of the cars in waves. She watched how their mouths moved--imagined the barking orders, the stations positioned around the home, the eyes trained on their every move.

Mel mulled it over, finger curled over her mouth, “He was always my Mother’s favorite, but he isn’t…spoiled,” she decides, eyes distant, “He’s matured a lot over the years, but he’s a bit like…”

Her eyes trailed off to the dining room table, gaze landing on the mouthy teenager already sneaking bites of the desserts.

Sevika blinked, hard, “Jinx?” she asked, disbelieving.

-

“Kino--” Mel wheezed, holiday cheer long gone. She scowled as her brother squeezed her tighter, trapping her in his arms. She pushed at his face, complaining, “Let go-- you’ll ruin my makeup--”

“I can’t hug my baby-sister now?” Kino asked, aghast. He was unfazed by her efforts, strong arms lifting her up.The man was tall, spindly even, but he carried her with ease. He wore an immaculately tailored, burgundy suit. This was paired with a fresh fade, cornrows, and gold rings glinting-- the center of his bottom lip painted to match.

“I’m not a baby--put me down,” Mel bit out, yelping as her heels left the ground.

“Okay, okay,” Kino relented, setting her down.

Mel huffed, readjusting her dress before she broke out into a wide smile, rushing past him. She greeted her sister-in-law excitedly, helping her sit down on the couch as she cradled her stomach. Shug followed the women with big, curious eyes.

Nearby, her nephews did what kids normally did. A lanky, preteen's eyes fixed on his phone as he texted. A mouthy eight year old argued with Isha over the shiny switches he pulled out of his bag.

Kino redirected his attention to Mel’s partner, giving them a once over. That sparkling demeanor shifting--ever so slightly, “Nice to meet you,” he said, evenly. He extended a hand, gold canines flashing.

Sevika nodded in return, shaking it firm.

Her arm itched.

-

A calloused hand reached towards that blinking, distant light.

Sevika gasped for breath, that anesthesia didn’t do shit for the pain. Grasping hands reached for her--then the shimmer. Shouting voices filled her ears as they struggled to hold her back and tie her back down for the operation.

That all consuming pain, a throttling heat--arm practically dead weight at this point. She drooled around the gag, bracing herself for the bite of the surgeon’s knife.

-

Mel handed off the bouquet to Sevika, gathering her friends into a hug, “How was the plane ride?”

“It was fine—it was fine,” Elora assured, with a breathy laugh, “Boring as usually, though the snacks were quite interesting—“

Never one for small talk, Lest’s eyes darted around the home's interior, “Didn’t I say you could throw out all this junk?” she questioned.

The exterior was nearly unrecognizable from her childhood. The crumbling walls and faded colors painted fresh, warm, and bright, but the interior…It was—dizzying how much was the same.

“This junk— has charm,” Mel insisted, loftily, arching her eyebrow as she pulled away, “If you want to get rid of it, you’ll have to come and do it yourself I’m afraid.”

“Horrifying concept,” Lest drawled—it was an old aversion from childhood. She feared if she threw her grandmother's stuff away—that old bat would come back to life to scold her for ‘not having taste’.

And yet, she couldn’t help but smile.

Nana always favored Mel during visits. The woman couldn’t wrap her head around anything in regards to their relationship or Lest’s gender, but she adored Mel regardless. Always asking for her even after they had broken up and parted ways. Mel always did the same—calling her often, dotting after the old woman, and spoiling her rotten.

Some things never change.

“—Now let me see your ring,” Mel said with a determined glint in her eye.

Elora blushed, shy all at once as her friend fawned over that glimmering, silver band, “You’ve already seen pictures—”

Mel scoffed at that, turning her hand over, “Pictures hardly compare to the real thing,” she said, squinting at it, “Have you all decided when you want your portrait painted ? What about the fittings—did you get a chance to meet with my tailor?“

As those two fussed over each other —Lest followed Sevika down the hall, heels notably silent on the floors.

“You were staring at her hand,” Lest airly notes with a sidelong glance, “I could… tell you her size if you want?”

“It’s too early for that,” Sevika said, eyes pointedly staring ahead, bouquet gently nestled in the crux of her arm as they entered the kitchen, “And you’re far too nosy--like usual.”

It's funny…Their paths often crossed, yet you could count the amount of conversation’s they’ve had on one hand.

Lest tilted her head, amused, “It comes with the job, I’m afraid,” she admits, letting their irritation roll off of her without batting an eye, “But if you want to know…she’s kept the same mood board for wedding rings since college. And she most likely has a jeweler on call already--it's best to ask since she’s so particular about it,” she listed off the details, endlessly fascinated at the fact that the other woman hadn’t left the room yet. Silent, but listening all the same. “Jayce went and got her some fancy rock from a lab with a silver band. Kino nearly fell out, but Mel never complained. Though…I doubt she’d let it happen again.”

That silence—then, “Who the hell is Jayce?” Sevika asked with a frown, idly arranging the flowers in a vase.

“...Her ex-fiancé, “ Lest explained, eyeing her strangely, “Didn’t she tell you?”

Sevika snorted, “She did, but why would I remember his name?”

Lest laughed, hand covering her mouth, “You never change, do you?”

-

A gold mask—a snarling wolf.

A sliver of a mouth could be seen, the center of the bottom lip painted gold. Dark eyes surveyed the trembling figures kneeling before them, disgusted. They took the gun from their holster, clicking the safety off before raising it. The barrel of the gun pressing into skin, kissing the sweat and tears as they let out a strangled cry.

“An example will have to be made—“

1–shot rang out—red.

They watched the body hit the ground, before redirecting their gaze to those watching the execution, “Mistakes will not be tolerated.”

Bright—violet eyes watched it all. Jinx’s head was tucked against Silco’s shoulder. She dozed off, counting each shot.

—2

—3

—4

-

And after they had all left, one final shot had rang out.

—5

-

Water poured from the faucet. Jinx ran her hands under it, moving to splash her face, but she stopped remembering her make-up.

“Shit,” she glared at the mirror, chewing on her lip. Feet tapping--moving, she started pacing the bathroom instead, spiraling.

It could be another hallucination—a strange memory that was out of place. Her imagination working overtime because life had been far too quiet for too long.

But—what if it wasn’t?

Sometimes her memory had holes. Other times—it could be startlingly clear. Some people, some places, always stuck with her no matter what and—

Jinx heard Mel’s brother laugh from the living room, feeling unsteady again.

She remembers that laugh.

She remembers them. The heavy boots of the woman in red. That snarling wolf never looked at her, but the one behind her—him—he always smiled her way.

-

Steaming plates piled high with food, the clinking of glasses, laughter, and the warm crackling of the fireplace.

Jinx peered into the dining room, uncertain.

Sevika stopped beside her, raising an eyebrow, “What's wrong?” she asked, under her breath.

Jinx frowned, fingers twiddling, “Nothings wrong…”

And nothing was wrong.

Everything was fine. It was in the past right?

Maybe Mel already knew. Even if she didn’t, Jinx didn’t have any right to bring up any of that ugliness now. This home--bright and lovely, she couldn’t stand the thought of making it filthy. So why couldn’t she let it go? Why was her chest tight--why was it harder to breathe--

He didn’t do anything to her--so why was she so--why was she--shaking. Scared. Like she was eight years old again.

A bandaged hand settled on her shoulder, squeezing gently.

Jinx looked up startled. Looking around she realized she was in a room, sitting on a too-soft bed. Vi sat next to her, brows furrowed before she passed her a cold bottle of water.

Jinx lost time again.

Across the dimly lit room, Sevika stood by the door studying her carefully. That silent question filling the space between them.

Jinx fumbled with the cap of the water-bottle, taking a gulp, before she finally blurted out that mess of thoughts.

-

Sevika inhaled then exhaled, rubbing her eyes. Slowly but surely some pieces were settling into place.

She’d be lying if she said she never thought Mel’s family was odd, but she thought it was the wealth.

And the Medarda’s weren’t just wealthy--they were wealth personified.

Their name plastered on every building--hands dipped into every possible venture. From international shipping, to pharmaceuticals, to education, to manufacturing. A hand that extends and takes hands--and hands--and hands in turn.

Sevika never would’ve guessed one of those ventures was Silco. She was his right hand in every aspect, but certain investors were kept private by request. And the investor that helped them go international was different then the rest.

When they called--he had no choice but to answer.

Sevika kept most of her unkind thoughts about Mel’s Mother to herself most days. She knew better than most how it felt to grieve a person and the relationship you never got to have. But, perhaps she was so focused on those two, she never gave any thought to how the family worked as a whole.

Why send one child away and not the other?

Over the years, Sevika worked with many different types of people who indulged in many questionable activities. Not everyone broke the law in the same way. And the wealthy had more cards to choose from them most. They could afford to pick and choose who to shield from the violence and who to fold.

Ambessa Medarda seemed like the type.

A wolf both in name and in ruthless efficiency. Clawing her family name from the depths of obscurity, rocketing them into a league of their own. And apparently, she enjoyed success in both her legal and illegal ventures.

One child to carry on the legacy for each world.

And Sevika was certain Mel knew nothing about it.

Every conversation they did have about Sevika’s past was uncomfortable. Like poking a raw nerve, never quite knowing if it’d be too much. Her eyes wide, blinking with hurt with every detail--as if she’d never would’ve had to consider those choices at all.

-

“Was that too much for you?” Sevika asked, thumb brushing over her cheek, watching those hurt eyes blinking back tears.

Tears for them.

Mel leaned into their hand,“You lived through it,” she murmured, lips pressing into their palm, “I should be asking you that. You don’t need to hold back. I want know you--all of you.”

-

Sevika and Mel were learning each other gently and slowly. But Sevika knew enough about her to understand what she needed to do now.

Plenty of people have had a hand in pushing--guiding --coveting -- and controlling Mel. People who decided what her life should look like, what she could know, see, and become.

Sevika couldn’t stand the thought of becoming a part of that long line of choices being made on her behalf.

So she waited. Until the plates were put away, tinfoil wrapped tight around the platters. Until the kids dozed off on the odd chair or couch. A christmas cartoon playing while the adults pulled out more wine. Until her friends had left out for their hotel, leaving only family behind. Until Mel had finally stepped away, disappearing into the kitchen to begin cleaning up.

Back facing them, Mel peeled off her long gloves, searching through the drawer, “Dinner was lovely like always,” she said, noticing their approach. A smile on her lips as she pulled out rubber gloves, turning on the hot water, “Thank you--”

Sevika stepped behind her, close, “You don’t have to thank me,” she said. She wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her closer.

Mel hummed, content. Her head tipped back against their shoulder, “But you’re what I’m most thankful for?” she teased, bright eyes beaming as she looked back at them. Then she faltered, brows scrunching, “What's wrong?”

Sevika’s heart clenched.

She leaned down, speaking low into her ear.

Mel listened to her intently. With each second her eyes wavering--pained-- as realization slowly setting in at her words.

It was a hard truth to swallow, but she’d drink it all the same.

-

Lost in the garden and covered in filth, the siblings were quite a sight.

Mel sniffled, shivering in the cold night air. She muttered to herself--that same wish--as she curled up tight in her brother’s arms.

Kino rocked her gently, “Do you know what I wished for?” he asked, staring up at that endless sky.

“...No,” Mel said, looking up.

“I…” Kino swallowed, closing his eyes as he let out a shaky breath. Words stuck between his heart and his throat.

Mel blinked, head tilting, confused, “Kino?” Little hands reached up, patting his face and smearing dirt everywhere as she shooed away the tears, “What’s wrong?”

Kino squeezed his sister tighter.

-

Mel Medarda has walked this path not quite knowing where she was going.

She tugged that long, unending string, hoping that in the end, there had to be something else past the confusion, hurt, and pain.

And now she stood before her brother, not knowing what she wanted at all. Not knowing if the conversation would stop the hurt or make it worse.

Mel closed the door to the studio behind her with a sigh, “Kino we need to talk,” she said, hands folded behind her back.

“But we are talking?” Kino joked, sitting down on the lone stool, leg settling across his lap and bouncing.

“--About the family business,” Mel specified, deeply exhausted already, “Or rather, the parts of it that haven’t been disclosed to me.”

Kino Medarda

Bright--shining--strong--precious.

The heir to the Medarda fortune and all that entitled.

Good and Bad.

Kino rubbed his beard, looking off to the side. He could’ve easily played dumb, pretended like he didn’t know, but he didn’t, “...You know?” he asked with a frown, “When did you find out?”

“Well, after what--? Only thirty or so years of living I just found out, ” Mel answered, bitterness edging into her tone as her eyes narrowed, “I’ve never made the assumption that our family’s wealth or any wealth was acquired through moral means,” she paced the room, that surge of unknown emotions becoming clearer with each word.

She stopped in front of him, eyes searching, frustration peaking as he avoided her gaze. She swallowed thickly, then continued, “It was one of the main reasons I chose to distance myself from our legacy, but this…this is different,” she let out a shaky exhale.

That sickness, that uncertainty, peeled back only to reveal an ugly shame, “I have people in my life I care for immensely. People who have lived with that type of violence since birth. Who carry those wounds everyday and are in desperate need of safety--of peace. How am I supposed to properly protect them from encountering that violence further if I'm not even aware of my own family’s affiliation? How… can I make any informed decisions if I am constantly treated like a child who cannot know any better.”

Kino’s face fell and he stood. He walked towards her, uncertain, “Mel, I would…never put you or anyone you love in harm's way,” he reassured, inhaling sharp, “You know that. You know me. This…” he waved his hand, shaking his head, “It doesn’t have to affect you. You don’t have to think of it at all. ”

Mel tensed at that, a slow moving realization building in her at those words. “But it does affect me,” she countered, frowning, “It has shaped our entire lives, whether I have known about it or not,”

Every decision-- every meeting--every so called family friend--every investment was stained red. Her hands smeared across the canvas of her life--unthinking--unknowing, like a child playing in paints not knowing it was made of lead.

“Even if I was shielded from the worst, I did not escape hardship.I thought she--” Mel choked up, blinking rapidly, “I thought Mom hated me for years and she never told me otherwise.”

She understood why she shielded her from the worst of it as a child. She understood the impacts that could’ve had--bright violet eyes--seething. But even as an adult?

She was old enough to swipe the card, but not know how the money was made? Old enough to shoulder the legacy, but not know the full cost?

It was so stupid.

Mel stilled, a tense silence settling between them, “She didn’t tell me anything…” she muttered under her breath, before those bright eyes flew up, striking, “And you’re doing the same now. If you can’t tell me details fine--but nothing? No warnings? Only pushing and pushing me away--to protect me I presume, but--”

Mel wiped her face, emotions bubbling over. Those memories, those words. It was as if her mother’s hands--striking, gentle, all-too-distant were falling over her all at once.

One thought was clear in the mess.

After all that effort to shield her from the worse--was she protected?

Was she better for it?

She had walked this path--surrounded by love, yet terribly lonely.

She was never alone, yet when she fell--she never asked for help. All those bright faces in her life, yet her heart became closed off with each passing year. Cloudy thoughts--a venomous tongue--marring every friend, lover, passing acquaintance, and kind stranger with an unrelenting suspicion.

A cycle of wondering why she hurt, why no one knew she was hurting, not wanting anyone to know she was hurting at all. Not even fully grasping how much blood she was truely leaking.

She doesn’t know when it began or if it even ended. It felt like a seamless, indisputable part of the fabric of her life. Clumping threads that could never be unraveled that stopped her lungs from breathing and her heart from beating even during the happiest of times.

Knowing this--changed everything, yet nothing at all.

She wasn’t quite yet at the end of that string-- still uncertain, unsteady on her feet. But she finally knew what she had wanted from this conversation. What she wanted to know--desperately.

“Kino…” Mel whispered, tears falling freely down her face, “How long have you been involved in this…Did you even get a choice in the matter?”

How long have you been hurting?

Kino stiffened, face closing off as he quietly spoke, “Our family, our legacy, it's my burden to bear now.” he said, dark eyes unwavering, “If it wasn’t me, it would’ve been you.”

Mel Medarda.

Bright, shining, soft, precious.

She’d always be his baby sister.

He’d shoulder it all--again and again for her.

Mel casted a weary glance upwards--a curse, a prayer, a plea silent on her lips. She looked at him--truly looked at him.

He was older, wearier, but was he happy?

“I don’t care for our family’s legacy nor our Mother’s sacrifices. Not if this is what it leaves us with, “ Mel admitted, crossing her arms and holding herself tight, “Sacrifices…secrets. That legacy left behind adults who are scared to cry. Who struggle to even look at each other for a simple discussion,” she sighed, hand raising and squeezing his shoulder, gentle, “Our mother is dead--we are not. The way she chose to carry on with her life…Her decisions, her sacrifices for ‘greatness’--they lie with her. There is nothing more we could possibly acquire, so why must we bury ourselves in that same grave?”

Kino was silent for a long time.

“...It’s not that easy,” he finally said with a dowcasted gaze, “Maybe I could’ve walked away if I was younger--a better man, but this is my life,” There was a finality in his tone, a resignation, that dragged on each word heavy as he continued, “This has been my life, my decisions, my legacy for a long time and I will bear it until the end. I’ve made far too many enemies and allies for it to change now. I’d give you the world if you asked for it, but this--this-- ”

Some things don’t change.

“It’s your legacy now, but you’re a husband--a father,” Mel’s chin raised, a stubborn glint in her eye, “Our family is growing and one day we will be gone and they will have to bear what remains. It won’t be easy, but if something doesn’t change now, when will it?”

-

It was a long, painful while before that conversation ended.

Kino stepped onto the porch, an ornate, black and gold box in hand. He let out a sigh, trying to shake the deja vu. It was like his Mom raised from her grave to chew his ass out. Honestly, the fact that Mel never never finished Law-School floored him to this day.

They were at an impasse of some sorts. Which meant that Mel had let him off the hook for now so she could let Shug run around outside.

He sighed again, hand rubbing down his face. His eyes fell on Sevika sitting on the front steps, methodically sipping a beer while she stared at that sinking sunset.

Kino sat down next to them, sending her a sidelong glance, “You told her.” he said.

Sevika inclined her head, “I did.”

Kino barked out a bitter laugh, eyes holding no humor, before he begrudgingly handed over the box.

Sevika accepted it with a raised eyebrow. She then opened it, appraising the row of cigars packed into the container. The dangerously expensive shit.

The last time she smoked one of these, it was moments before Silco’s lawyer told her she was going to take custody of the girls, “Is this a bribe?” she asked, suspicious.

“It's your gift,” Kino said, dry.

“It’d be a nice bribe,” Sevika suggests, pulling out her lighter in one swift motion. She lit two cigars, handing one over without another word.

Kino eyed it for a moment then he accepted it. Inhaling deep, he let the smoke burn. A silence pooled between them, “...Would you have ever retired willingly if Silco wasn’t offed?” he eventually asked.

Dark eyes regarded him for a moment, “...I had no reason to at the time,” she admits, eyes returning to the horizon.

No family or friends.

Most of them scattered ash or far, far from home. That business--bloody, careless, sometimes cruel-- was all she had. So she’d given it her all. Life, limb-- all dangling in the teeth of perpetual uncertainty.

“And if you did have a reason?”

Sevika inhaled that bitter smoke, air far too cold.

-

Dishes put away. Trash cleared. Children and pets soundly asleep.

Sevika clocked out for the night.

Returning to the bedroom, she wondered.

Mel Medarda was a woman of many moods and faces. On occasion, she’d let Sevika peer beyond the surface. And today was a lot of good, bad, and uncertain, so she wasn’t sure what she’d get.

Stepping into the dimly lit room, she was greeted by a woman in red.

“You’re still dressed,” Sevika said, closing and locking the door behind. She unwrapped the dupatta from around her shoulders, laying it down on a nearby chair.

“You asked,” Mel explains, like that’s all she had to do.

Sevika pulled off her blouse, leaving herself in slacks and a tank-top, “I didn’t think you’d still be in the mood after…” she trailed off as she unbuttoned her slacks, but made no move to take them off, a bit lost in thought.

Mel squinted, an intense look that made their stomach tight with anticipation as a slender finger beckoned them closer.

Sevika followed her instructions, approaching the bed. However, instead of sitting down beside them, she kneeled on the ground with a hefty sigh. They wrapped their arms around her hips as they settled between her legs, head burying in her lap-- drinking in soft velvet and perfume.

Mel's eyes widened--struck--before she smiled, helpless at the sight. She ran her hand through their hair, “...You’ve worked so hard to make today go well,” she murmured, feeling them relax, weight settling on her slowly, “Everyday I see how much you do to keep us safe--to keep us happy. I wouldn’t let anything or anyone jeopardize that,” she promised.

“It's nothing I can’t handle,” Sevika said, a haze of exhaustion settling over her all at once.

If it goes to shit--if whatever mess Kino was involved in blew up in his face, she’s sure she’d be able to at least keep them out the fire. She’s done it before, she could do it again and again--and again.

“You won’t be handling it,” Mel said, tone leaving no room for arguing,“If we cannot ensure your family’s physical, emotional, and legal safety, I won’t be tolerating any more of his visits here,” she explained, nails easing against their scalp, working that remaining tension out with each stroke.

“He’s your family, you don’t--”

“This town has experienced more than enough violence—” Mel gently cut her off, resolute as she spoke, “We can call, we can go elsewhere, but if none of my conditions are met, he cannot come here, ” she said.

As if ‘going elsewhere’ was as easy as breathing air. For anyone else it would’ve been, but for Mel it wasn’t. And yet, she promised it--every word painstakingly heartfelt.

Mel leaned down, curling around them. Their vision was filled with black, white, and red. That sweet perfume cradling her gently as she spoke, “My family has done a lot of wrong, yet I cannot stop myself from loving them. I doubt I ever will. But,” she swept away those stray hairs from their face, kissing her forehead, “I’d never sacrifice one love for another,” she shared, bright eyes lost in dark--heart beating faster and faster, “I’d never put you--your peace of mind, your family, or your home-- at risk. Not after all the kindness you’ve extended to me. You deserve that much.”

And at that--Sevika couldn’t help but question if she truly did.

-

Soft sighs, parting lips, pearly teeth that flashed as her head fell back with a laugh. Red velvet pushed up past her thighs, matching lace tucked between that she pulled aside. She leaned in for a taste.

Hands coaxing her squirming body closer to the edge--closer to edge of the bed--

Hands--two of them.

Calloused, scarred, flesh, and covered in red.

Staining her lovely skin and making those bright, billowing marks bleed.

Sevika woke with a start, bed shaking. Her heart was caught in her throat as she breathed sharply, trying to calm down.

Next to her, Mel stirred easily at the noise, “...’vika?” she rasped, eyes blearily trying to open.

Sevika settled back down, leaning over, speaking low, coaxing.

Mel looked unconvinced, brow furrowing as she tried to orient herself.

Hesitating, Sevika wrapped an arm around her waist, burying their nose in her shoulder. She breathed her in deep--entirely indulgent even as her heart ached.

Only then did Mel relax, slipping back asleep, content in her lover’s embrace.

-

Metal clanking--Isha tapped Sevika’s prosthetic arm repeatedly, urgently trying to get her attention.

“Yeah, yeah I hear you,” Sevika said, waving her off, “I’m watching.”

Isha nodded excitedly.

Bundled up, she hobbled back into the snow. She raised her hands high to her imaginary audience of millions, before she flung herself backwards. She did that little flip thing Jinx had shown her, although Isha always lost balance on her way down. So it was more so a controlled fall that always left her covered in snow.

Sevika clapped slowly, biting back a laugh as Isha bowed to her audience. Then she ran off over the hills towards where Jinx and Ekko were piling up giant heaps of snow--building a fortress it seems.

Mel had been watching them from the doorway, she stepped outside, giggling a bit.

“What—?” Sevika asked, suspicious as she scratched Shug behind the ears, the sleeping dog cozied up in her lap, a blanket pulled over them. She rocked in the chair slowly, careful not to disturb them.

“Nothing, nothing,” Mel hummed, eyes impossibly fond as she leaned down, arms wrapping around the back of their shoulders as she kissed their cheek.

Sevika turned her head when she stopped, looking back expectantly, “We should head out before all the motels fill up. ”

An unending sky crested those rolling hills, leaving behind a shine as the snow only piled higher.

“Motel?” Mel questioned, kissing her cheek again, then the tip of her nose.

“Everytime it snows this bad, the heat cuts in our building,” Sevika explained, catching her off guard and finally stealing a kiss on the mouth. That winter frost biting her still warm lips. Mel tried to deepen it, despite the awkward angle, but Sevika cheekily turned away, quick, “It’s either a motel, or I kill our landlord,” she offhandedly, adds.

“Let’s not do that,” Mel muttered, pouting a bit from the betrayal, “Why not stay here another night?” she suggested, face rubbing into the nape of their neck.

“I don’t hate you enough to put you through that,” Sevika said, eyes following those brats trampling through the snow, “They’re not as cute when they’re cranky, hungry, and restless.”

“But you think it's cute when I’m like that?”

“I do,” Sevika admitted with a creeping smile, “That’s different,”

“Uh-huh,” Mel rolled her eyes, “I’ll go get the guest rooms ready,” she said, slipping away and back into the house.

-

Isha set down her hand of cards with a toothy grin.

Jinx cackled, arms shooting up--victorious.

Mel sighed, setting down her cards in defeat. She eyed the two hands--mulling over the game in question.

“A deals a deal—” Jinx said, ruffling Isha’s hair as she beamed.

“Were you cheating—?” Mel asked out loud. Although it was more of a deduction--all those innocuous moments throughout the game piecing together in her mind to create one, damning picture.

Isha arched an eyebrow right back—as if to say, “Does it matter?”

“Alright,” Mel acquiesced, ultimately impressed by the swindle, “I’ll send the funds over later today.”

“And—? Jinx said, with a taunting look.

“Yes, that too,“ Mel agreed, shaking her head with a slow chuckle.

Right on time—Sevika rounded the corner from the kitchen.

“‘Sevika?” Mel sweetly called out, “ ‘vika-baby, can you help me light the fire? I’m cold.”

At those words, Sevika immediately ran into the doorframe with a thud. She cursed, clutching her forehead.

“Oooh…” Both Jinx and Isha hissed, wincing. Looking at each other for a moment, they decided to scatter—cards fluttering uselessly behind, feet stomping up the stairs as they ran towards the guest rooms.

Mel’s eyes widened and she shot up, rushing over.

Sevika rapidly blinked, dazed, “What… did you call me?”

“Do you hate pet names that much?” Mel asked, fingers skimming the knot on the side of their head, looking her over.

“I…” Sevika frowned, averting her gaze, “ I don’t care.”

Mel looked at her strangely, smoothing her forehead, “Love—“ she whispered, words slow, deliberate as she cradled their face, “Let’s lie down for a moment. I’ll light the fire for us.”

- Fire--flickering red and warm.

Mel winced a bit, climbing onto the couch, hips still sore.

“Was I too rough yesterday?” Sevika asked with a frown, hand steadying her waist as they eased her down on top of them.

“You were perfect,” Mel said, face snuggling into her chest--looking quite pleased to have her favorite pillows back. Her arms slipped around their waist, legs tangled together, “You’ve been fretting all morning, I’m fine.”

Seika sighed, thumb rubbing the top of her head, the silk scarf smooth, “I saw the bruises…” she said, eyebrows furrowed.

Those dark, purpling bruises sprawled across her body--made her fingers itch for more the first time she caught sight of them. But, it also made her…sick. Thoughts murky and disgusted--even though logically she knew they both wanted it.

“Mhm…” Mel smiled a bit at the reminder, “Have you seen your back?”

Broad, steady shoulders streaked with red.

“That’s--” Sevika’s mind stalled a bit, “That’s different.”

“Is it now?”

“It is,” Sevika insisted, “I’ve actually--” hands--two of them, calloused, scarred, flesh, and covered in red, “I should’ve controlled myself. You could’ve gotten hurt.”

Mel’s head raised, chin settling between the valley of her chest. Her big, thoughtful eyes studied her for a moment, “You did control yourself,” she said, evenly, “I wasn’t scared of getting hurt at all. I trust you.”

“...You shouldn’t,” Sevika said, smoothing the line between her brow, “I’m not a good person.”

Mel’s eye’s softened, lips thin, “And what type of person do you think you are?”

Draped across the older woman, she listened. Fire crackling—the distant sounds of Jinx and Isha thumping around upstairs. Shug and Majesty curled up in the arm chair, sleeping.

Mel listened as Sevika quietly spoke, dark eyes weary.

-

“I was angry—all the time.”

-

Low simmering--the feeling never went away.

Sevika understood hate at an early age.

Standing over her dad, past out in the hall, stinking of alcohol and food--knowing the pantry was empty. She didn’t bother to cry about it anymore, finding the old man’s wallet--swiping a few dollars before she stumbled outside into the cold.

-

“I didn’t dream of finding a nice, ok-paying job. I didn’t care if I was good--or useful to my community. All of that felt pointless.” -

Easy money--?

Nothing about this shit was easy.

Broken bones--constant late drop offs, no breaks--pigs hunting them for sport even when they weren’t dealing. She’s had to attend far too many funerals over the years--each one quieter then the next.

Sevika handled it all as it came--again and again. Only the neat roll of cash, she counted at the end of every day keeping her going. It was far more than any other job in this shit hole.

Enough for the bills--enough for the vices.

So when that scrawny, asshat at the bar offered her another job-- a better job, she took it.

Consequences be damned.

-

“I saw good people eat shit every-fucking day. No one listened to goodness--no one cared, so why should I? I was just chasing that rush--that feeling--"

That fire--she let it burn her life to a crisp for a chance to feel its warmth. Her heart beating faster and faster--like she could finally fucking breathe.

But now that she was on the other side of the fire and didn’t know what to do with her charred remains.

“I didn’t stop because I wanted to--I stopped because I didn’t have a choice,” Sevika said, harshly, “That doesn’t make me a good person. It only means I’m good at following orders. If I was good, I would’ve did something productive with that time--that money,” she exhaled, eyes shutting, “Now I have to watch Jinx and Isha grow up in this shit-hole, knowing I could’ve done something, anything to make it better, but I didn’t.”

Sevika didn’t have time for regrets--to seek forgiveness, but she does wonder why out of everyone who had passed through this town--why did she survive?

She never did anyone any good. Yet she was still standing. Stuck. That unchanging, unending pile of anger. Watching everything around her fall apart for years while she did fuck all.

Sevika swallowed thickly, “I don’t understand what you see in me,” she admits.

Mel reached out, contemplative,“...I can show you.” she said, her finger brushing away the wetness from their cheek.

-

Mel switched on the lights to her studio. She had a determined glint in her eye as she moved throughout the space, pulling out covered canvases one by one. She propped each one up, yanking the plastic covers off with a methodical quickness.

Sevika had only seen her sketches before. The other woman was rather private about her process, so they didn’t know what to expect.

So this…

Sevika stepped forward without thinking--eyes skating across the room, not knowing where to land, where to linger.

“What do you think?” Mel asked, pony-tail flicking as she turned her head.

Color—lines deep, swirling, and bright—those fluttering shapes filling the canvas, leaving no empty space. Idyllic faces, hands, shapes pressing against the canvas, teeming to burst.

Sevika easily recognized the figures —the people—the places.

“You painted…Zaun?”

Jinx. Blue braids fluttered behind her like wings as she smiled at the viewer. Isha perched on her shoulders, a toothy grin stained a vibrant gold.

Staggering, crumbling pre-war buildings --all glitz, grime, and gold. A flickering street-lamp and little foot-prints left behind in the snow. Rolling hills of negative space colliding with color. The sun -- a pearl placed in the teeth of the sky. Plunging earth and distant lights. Those stars, peeking silver pins stuck the fabric of the sky. A wave of broken bottles shuddering upwards, one-thousand wishes breaking the unending horizon apart with their cries.

-

‘WELCOME TO THE HISTORIC CITY OF ZAUN’

-

One canvas painstakingly recreated that wooden sign. Soft, detailed, brushwork that was splattered with all too familiar spray paint. Spiraling colors--signatures--so many signatures sprawled across the canvas, until you couldn’t help but get lost in all the voices--the names.

That bridge—clean charcoal lines, white space-- flowers smearing across the architecture, bright pastels bleeding down.

And—her.

Sevika stared up at the largest painting—breath caught.

She almost didn’t recognize herself.

Flurries drifted down, kissing the slope of her face. The biting cold sending spritz of colors down, blending seamlessly with the veins stark in her skin.

Dark hair, peppered with grey, a little too long. Dark eyes lost, dark circles digging into her skin deep. Blackened, split lips, soft scars ghosting the arch of her nose.

Her expression--some would say she was resigned. Resigned to the cold--uncaring of the color that flooded her life.

Others would say she looked--relieved.

As if she lifted the world and still managed to stand under its weight.

And it wasn’t the only one.

Mel pulled out more canvases--all of them were of her.

Sevika eating, fingers dripping with fruit, stained pink. Sevika smiling--gapped teeth snarling over a hand of cards. Sevika stretched out on the couch, fast asleep, a cat pawing at her chest. Sevika carrying two girls over her shoulders, covered head to toe in snow. Sevika tipping back a beer bottle--drinking every nasty drop.

Sevika bloodied. Sevika bruised. Sevika beaming.

Sevika…never knew she could look like that. She fell silent, unable to ignore that sound rattling in her chest.

“I don’t believe you were only ever made of only anger, ” Mel quietly said, watching them carefully like she always did, “You’ve experienced so much, it’d be impossible to reduce it all to that,” she continued, approaching that largest painting, fingers dancing across the canvas, “A lot has changed, a lot hasn’t. But, I don’t think change is something that definitively happens, once or twice. I think it's constant. Whether you intend to or not, it still happens.”

Mel sighed, hands pausing to trace the line of dark hair, “I didn’t start my treatment because I wanted to get better,” she admits with a low, bitter laugh, “I was pretty much strong armed into it all--the therapy, the dog, the medical leave. I didn’t want to get better. I didn’t want anything at all at that point. I was following the advice until I could convince everyone to finally leave me alone. Even this exhibition…” she struggled for a moment, words slowing, “I wanted it to be my last before I retired early and found somewhere else to hide. Somewhere too far for visits, too inconvenient for calls. So I could finally stop being such a burden on everyone in my life. So they could move on while I--”

Quietly disappeared.

Not quite death—but courting it in a way. Aching for everything to just stop.

Sevika let the weight of her words settle over the conversation, heart shuddering,“…What changed?”

Or rather--she was hopeful that something changed.

Mel sent her a side-long glance, “If I had met you any sooner in my life, I would’ve thrown you out of my house,” she said, plainly, “But I didn’t and I wasn’t quite sure why. Our meetings were…different. Always different then the monotony I was accustomed to, ” her hand drew back from the canvas, “It was as if I had to relearn myself--my emotions, my body, my memories, my dreams. It was like meeting a stranger everytime and--”

Soft footsteps approached Mel, an arm sliding around her waist, a head settling against her shoulder.

“I couldn’t help but want to learn more about her--more about you,” Mel said, choking up a bit, “I was so stuck on those terrible months--years, I didn’t realize I wasn’t there anymore. Everything was different, but I was so close to the mess I couldn’t see the full picture. My body, my life, my friends were all breathing--moving--changing. And I could finally see it all. I wanted to see everything.”

Mel reached for the hand around her waist, slender fingers squeezing tight, “I was already putting in the work. My life is …better than before. I just needed help learning how to live it. ”

Better.

Not good, not bad, but better.

“Your life is different now—” Mel said, words certain as their bodies swayed together, “--whether it was by choice or not. If you’re not satisfied with it… if you want something different, if you want to learn about the woman that I love--I’ll be there to help. You don’t have to figure it out alone anymore.”

Sevika let out a breath she didn’t know she was holding.

-

Heels clicked-- a door slamming behind.

Mel left her Mother’s office, a bitter storm that scorched the halls, employees jerking out of her way. She rummaged through her purse, blinking back tears as her heart ached.

Exiting the building, she stumbled, heels slipping on the ice, but she didn’t fall.

Not yet.

A hand caught her by her waist, body yanked into a firm side, “Watch it--” the stranger said, voice gruff.

Mel pulled away, shame heating her face, “Apologies--” she muttered, ducking her head as she rushed away. She finally found her phone, raising it to her ear as she made a call.

A softly accented voice. Her swinging pony-tail soon disappeared into a shiny car.

Sevika rolled her eyes, paying her no mind. She pushed open the door for Silco--who seemed largely unphased despite nearly being ran over by that woman.

Silco passed by, calling back, “Wait for the next car,” he ordered, curt.

Sevika scowled, “The kid again?” she complained. It made no fucking sense to have the brat there for these meetings while Sevika was stuck watching paint dry outside the room.

“She needs to learn,” Silco explained as he always did, his tapping cane growing distant as he left her behind.

-

It was the first cold morning of an early winter.

Mel only managed to make it out of bed because of Shug’s pawing at the door. That adorable, little beast squirming into her room and her heart--she’d do anything to keep her happy. She jogged, Shug keeping pace beside her, tongue wagging. So cute, so—

The barest amount of guilt curled around her thoughts.

She needed to ask Elora to--maybe not Elora. She’s already asked her friend for so much. But she should look into finding another home for Shug. Her life was fine now, but…Mel supposed she’d be better off elsewhere. Or maybe not.

She had promised to try, afterall.

It was enough to stop her friends and family from constantly worrying. However she was still a bit miffed that she had to keep up with her therapy homework. Her therapist had brought up hobbies again. Something to break up the monotony--something to do with her hands.

Mel could only think of one thing.

Painting.

She hasn’t done it awhile.

It was something she had fought so hard for, yet slipped away so easily within these past few years. It wasn’t the act itself she avoided--but what it entailed. She only ever painted from life. People. Looking at people, interacting with people. The thought only made her sick now.

Perhaps, all she needed was a muse. Someone new, different--

Mel stopped abruptly, eyes caught--drawn all at once.

Soft snow falling--kissing skin.

Mel bit her lip, thoughts stirring, hands itching for a brush.

It was like seeing for the first time.

-

Mel saw her a lot— some early mornings and late nights at that park. She was working up the courage to approach and ask her to be her model. It was so easy to do so before--now it was different.

She wasn’t scared of the woman per say, but…she was a bit worried that she might let another question slip. Her heart always beating faster and faster--and faster at the sight of her, like she was a child again.

And it only grew-- that itch. That desire to learn more about the stranger that had begun to invade every-other sketch she had attempted lately.

-

“Is she a good person?”

“--‘vika baby, you never change.”

“You’re so…”

She’d miss them like air, like a heart beating.

“A bully and a brute—”

And yet.

“You never change, do you?”

--always-- there to pick her up and dust her off--

“...You’ve worked so hard…to keep us happy…to keep us safe.”

--again--and again.

There she was--without fail.

A calloused hand—pulling a coat tighter, muttering about the cold—rubbing out a cigarette, making a wish—holding a leaking cold pack to a swollen face—pressing into her hands, but not letting go— bloodied and bruised, but there—again and again—a steady hand, catching her by her waist before she fell. Hands, metal and skin--so strong, so soft—that held her precious—again and again.

Always there without fail—without faltering.

A lighter flicking —open then closed. Flame snuffed out, lit anew— a little different each time and yet.

She was—

-

Delicate kisses fell along the slope of Sevika’s face—lips fluttering against each curve, fingers trailing each line. The world was sluggish, slow, still sleeping that New Year's morning.

With a deep, shining reverence in her eyes--Mel watched them stir, “Everything, ” she murmured against their lips, smiling fondly.

Every dream, every wish, every future--she saw them at her side.

Sevika shuddered awake, arm lifting to press Mel more firmly against her body. Their mouth softly finding hers as they kissed her again and again—and again.

. . . . .

[leonardoeatscarrots]

This is very helpful to hear, OP. While watching Arcane, I always felt something unsettling with Jynx beyond what the writers were trying to convey. And especially after seeing your examples, I can say that it's the lack of concern for Jynx as a person that bothers me.

I will likely make a long post about Viktor and my personal experience as someone with a physical disability, but I'm kinda in a flare-up right now and haven't the spoons just yet (speak of the devil).

Arcane, Psychosis, and Mixed Feelings.

I saw a post by @leonardoeatscarrots on Arcane and how it handles Viktor. That inspired me to make this post, because I think this show has a lot of issues with its disabled characters (though I won't be talking about Viktor here)

Before I start, I would like to preface this with- I like the show, Jinx is my favorite character, and I'm looking forward to season 2. (this is written before it comes out. If something changes when season 2 comes out, then I'll try and relay my thoughts about it)

This is also not to call anyone out, if you think this is targeted towards anyone, or I'm vagueposting, I'm not. These are just some issues I have with the wider fandom.

At no point am I going to diagnose her with any sort of illness, as that is just headcannon. I will compare her to myself, as I have a schizospec disorder, however, I will not claim she has anything specific as it has not been confirmed whether they were trying to represent a specific illness or not.

Also, I do not know everything there is to know about LOL lore.

I have only played runeterra and wild rift, and I don't spend all my time watching videos about LOL lore. So if I get a couple things wrong, I'm sorry.

Are we clear?

Let's begin.

Jinx is a complicated character for Arcane to adapt respectfully, mostly because of her status as a League of Legends champion.

In the game, she's supposed to be this type of character. the "Violent Crazy Manic Pixie Dream Girl" type.

Now there's lore behind her being like this, but that's what she boils down to, and no amount of justification is going to change the trope she falls into.

In the show, we get more context for why she's like this. (since the show is canon)

Psychosis can happen for a multitude of reasons, not just schizophrenia, as some might claim. It can happen after trauma, it can happen because of depression, bipolar, or even a fever can cause psychosis.

What matters more in the show is not the reason it's happening, but that it's happening.

Something I like about Arcane is that it doesn't dwell on the causality of the psychosis, just that it's happening. I like that she's not constantly hearing or seeing things because that's just not how psychosis works.

I genuinely relate a lot to jinx, not only on the psychosis, but on the attachment issues as well.

There is also another praise I can make towards the show, that it portrays age regression in a (somewhat) sympathetic light. We don't know how old Jinx is, (we know she's in her late teens, but we don't know much beyond that)

Jinx's age regression, in this case, is involuntary and ongoing. Age regression can happen because of trauma and psychosis, and isn't always voluntary. It's not a well-known symptom of any disorder, and often times it's demonized, or treated as sexual. (Here, I don't get an undercurrent of sex with her age regression (with other things, yes, there definitely is, her entire archetype is a sexual fantasy, but with this specifically I didn't get that vibe)

However I still have issues with Jinx as a character, and a lot of them stem from how she's portrayed and the air around her.

Jinx has an air of tragedy and pity around her. Now some of this is due to her trauma, but we aren't supposed to see Vi the same way, even though she experienced the explosion too, losing her family and growing up in Stillwater prison.

Vi, by all accounts, should be just as tragic of a character as Jinx is, hell, she is a tragic character. However, that's not how the show sees her. (nor is it how the fandom sees her but I'll get into my issues with the Arcane fandom in a little bit)

Jinx is supposed to be pitied, infantilized, sexualized, and feared at the same time. Some of this (the sexualization in particular) dates back to the game and can be seen even in her design. Her design in league is very male-gazey. it's less so here, but we are probably going to see her original design in later seasons, which isn't my favorite thing. (It's ugly. It's genuinely an ugly design IMO, and it makes it VERY clear that they're trying to make a Harley Quinn-type character. ALL her skins are sexualized. I do realize that this isn't a problem unique to Jinx, however. LOL has a problem with sexualizing its female characters.)

Jinx's psychosis is a very weird watch when you're schizospec, because the focus is almost never on her when it's about the psychosis, only when it's about her trauma (which, when they want you to sympathize with her, they put more focus on). It's always about how it affects the people around her. And while yes, psychosis does affect other people, (just ask my family and friends) the fact that it never focuses on how it affects her or how she feels about it. It's a tool for her to be threatening, its a visual metaphor for her grief and trauma, and despite her being a main character, she's way more defined by her mental illness and trauma than her sister Vi is.

The focus of her breakdowns is almost always on other people, or how it will affect other people when it comes to her psychosis. Let me give a few examples of this.

the scene where she talks to her voices after her introduction in "Happy Progress Day". (ep 4) This is after her talk with Silco. We, as viewers, are meant to be afraid of what she's going to do next, as in her introduction, she was portrayed as menacing but sad. The point of the scene is both to show she has psychosis but also to make us worry for the characters around her. (Which was also partially done by her introduction, but the psychosis part to a lesser extent)

In "when these walls come crumbling down" (ep 6) where Vi and Jinx reunite, Jinx hears voices and gets paranoid. (she's paranoid through this entire episode, due to finding out Vi is with an Enforcer from Sevika, who taunts her about it.) The emphasis here is placed on Vi and Caitlyn and their relationship to Jinx.

The scene where she's on a bridge talking to her voices in "The Boy Savior".(ep. 7) This is, again, meant for us to worry about other characters' safety.

There are more examples, But this post is already long as is, and I don't want to go into detail about every single scene with her.

Now I'm not against showing how psychosis affects others while it's happening. But when that's the main way it's showcased, that's where it becomes an issue.

It's near impossible to talk about Jinx's psychosis without talking about her trauma, as that's what the show is banking on you pitying her for. There's an air of contempt and horror whenever the trauma isn't the main part of her mental illness being focused on. like "Oh, isn't this scary? She's going CrAzY!"

This, I shouldn't have to tell you, is an issue.

The two main relationships for Jinx throughout the show are Vi and Silco. Ekko's and Sevika's relationships with Jinx are also important, but we don't get as much time to develop them as we do with her other two main relationships. Since she's partially defined by her relationships, and this is what I was saying earlier, when she's going through things, the focus isn't placed on her. Even in the scenes where it's supposed to be.

Take the scene where Jinx is having a moment and using the punching machine in "everybody wants to be my enemy" (ep 5) the focus is planted firmly on the relationship between Jinx and Vi.

Most scenes are like this with Jinx. It's not about her specifically. It's about her relationships. How much do we know about Jinx that isn't trauma, relationships, or mental health related? We know she likes to create things, but what else? what else do we get to know about her?

Jinx is defined by her relationships and her mental illness. I have noticed the fandom will treat her in a few different ways due to this fact.

-infantilize/woobify her (that's 90% of what I've seen)

-make jokes about her psychosis (fine when psychotics are doing that, NOT fine when non-psychotics are)

-make the focus of their posts shipping where she's the "wild crazy energetic girl" and the other is more serious. (before you say I hate timebomb, I love timebomb, this is just a pattern I've seen with Jinx shipping)

These categories often cross into each other, none of these are mutually exclusive.

It's time to talk about the elephant in the room. Jinx's violence.

Let me get this out of the way first. It is a well known fact that psychotics are way more likely to be the victims of violence rather than the perpetrators.

Most psychotics are only violent when scared out of their minds and when I say violent, I don't mean severe violence I mean pushing or hitting. (And I'm like 90% sure any non-psychotic would do the same if they experienced that level of fear for that amount of time)

It doesn't make hitting people okay, but I'm hoping it provides some perspective.

Jinx, however, is severely violent. She tortures people, kills people, and commits terrorism.

She seems to revel in it. Which falls into tired tropes of mentally ill people, but specifically psychotic people. her voices even encourage her.

Do violent command hallucinations exist? yes. It happens.

Do some psychotic people, or some mentally ill people in general experience homicidal thoughts? yes. It does happen.

There is a discussion to be had about representing these without demonizing psychotics or other mentally ill people, however, there's a difference between a character who has a mental illness being violent for the sake of it and is treated with contempt and a character who has a mental illness that also has violent thoughts/urges and is treated with respect by the media they're in.

It's hard to talk about this without mentioning that this is how she is in League, this is her character, so I can understand that making her violent was necessary to adapt LOL lore and still make it canon. She wouldn't be Jinx if she wasn't violent, violence is a core component of her character in League. Which was why i didn't want to go into it, because it was unavoidable in this adaptation.

Jinx's character archetype is problematic in general.

Despite all this, Jinx is still my favorite character. Some of the scenes with the psychosis, the paranoia about being left behind or people leaving me, the SH, really resonate with me. I am, in no way, a Jinx hater.

Despite it not focusing on her, the scenes of her talking to her hallucinations, and her age regression, it's felt HARD. Note that nowhere in this post did I say I felt it was unrealistic. I critiqued the writing and framing of her character.

which is why I can understand why so many people think she's good representation.

I made a point to only say "psychosis" and not "schizophrenia". there was a reason for this. The reason being there's no confirmation as to whether they were trying to depict a schizospec disorder.

I personally headcannon her as schizoaffective bipolar type (which is what I have), but again, that's just a headcannon. As far as I know (and as far as I could find) there is no confirmation that they made her with the schizophrenia spectrum in mind, despite the coding.

I couldn't even find out if they had a psychotic or psychologist consult on their team.

Now that I've covered the show, I'd like to get into some issues with the fandom that I've noticed.

As I touched on before, the fandom will woobify her or make jokes about her mental health issues. I've seen merch with her saying "they/them because it's me and the voices" before. Which is..... uhh...

Being in this fandom is a minefield when you're schizospec because you'll see one post you like about jinx but the next post will be something like what I mentioned above.

When mentioning my issues with Jinx, some people will claim that it's not actually an issue, or claim that it's unreasonable to expect good representation out of Riot (or even expect something small, like a consult on the team).

Though ableism isn't unique to the Arcane fandom, it's important to point out that many people will talk over disabled people talking about Viktor and Jinx and claim that they're fine actually and we shouldn't be upset, and that we should just make our own representation. (I got told this yesterday)

It shouldn't be up to marginalized people to make our own representation, as not everyone can do that and it's unfair to expect that of people. Not everyone has the time, energy, or resources to create stories about their experiences. Am I saying we should only expect representation from mainstream sources and non-marginalized people, and that marginalized people shouldn't be part of that process? No, that's not at all what I'm saying. (I have to clarify because I got into an argument about this) What I am saying is that there should be more representation out there, and we shouldn't have to make our own representation in order to see ourselves. Involve marginalized creators if you can, of course. (Riot most certainly could have.) But don't tell disabled people to make our own representation when we critique a media you like. Especially if you yourself are queer, you should understand what we're talking about.

Please do better.

Thank you for reading this excessively long post.

I am willing to discuss, my opinion is not gospel.

I am in no way a Jinx or Arcane hater.

[rose24207]

Ma Meilleure Ennemie

Summary: Two enemies, bound by hatred and an undeniable connection, navigate a love-hate relationship where each becomes the other's greatest blessing—and worst curse.

Genre: 42!Miles, angst, fluff

TW: mention of weapons, betrayal, non chronological use of lyrics

A/N: This is kind of based of the edits I saw about arcane with this song (I start watching it tmr) Let’s see how it goes!! Love the song by stromae! It’s stuck in my head and it’s not getting out of it anytime soon!

English is not my first language. I hope you enjoy it though! Requests are open and welcome!

Masterlist

Je t'aime, je te hais, je t'aime, je te hais

I love you, I hate you, I love you, I hate you

The day he met you, Miles Morales knew he should’ve walked away. The cold of Brooklyn didn’t bother him anymore; it was the emptiness of it that got under his skin. People here didn’t smile. They didn’t dream. They survived—or they didn’t.

But you? You made survival look easy. Like a game.

The worst day of his life, that day he crossed paths with you, yet one he could never regret.

Ce jour où je t'ai rencontrée, j'aurais peut-être préféré Que ce jour soit jamais arrivé

On that day when I met you, maybe I would rather that it never happened to me

The heist was supposed to be simple—grab the vibranium shipment, deliver it to Aaron, and disappear into the night. But when Miles dropped into the shadows of the warehouse, his target was already gone.

“Looking for this?”

Your voice was smooth, teasing, the faintest echo off the cold metal walls. He turned, his eyes narrowing as his mask illuminated you: standing atop a stack of crates, one hand resting on the case he’d come to collect.

“Give it back.” His voice was low, commanding.

“Didn’t know it belonged to you,” you replied, tilting your head. “You’re the famous Prowler, huh? Gotta say, I expected more.”

Miles stepped forward, his gauntlets humming to life. “This is your last chance.”

You smirked, tossing the case from one hand to the other. “Or what? You gonna fight me over it? Go ahead, Morales.”

The sound of his name snapped through the air like a whip. Miles froze.

“How do you—”

“Please,” you interrupted. “You’re not as subtle as you think.”

He lunged forward, a neon blur, but you were faster. You jumped down, using the crate as leverage to kick him back. His gauntlet grazed your suit, leaving a faint scorch mark, but you didn’t flinch.

“This city doesn’t need another vigilante,” you said, darting past him. “Especially not one hiding behind his daddy’s name.”

That hit harder than any punch could.

By the time he recovered, you were gone, and so was the case.

“Next time,” he muttered, clenching his fists, “you’re not getting away.”

La pire des bénédictions

La plus belle des malédictions

The worst of all blessings

The best of all curses

The next few months were a game of cat and mouse. You’d show up where you weren’t supposed to be—hijacking his missions, stealing his leads, leaving behind nothing but frustration and the faint scent of your perfume.

“You’re the worst thing that ever happened to me,” Miles growled one night, his voice cutting through the cold as he cornered you on a rooftop.

“Aw, I’m touched,” you replied, leaning against the railing. “But admit it—you’d miss me if I were gone.”

“You’re delusional.”

“Am I?” You stepped closer, your mask reflecting the faint purple glow of his suit. “Face it, Morales. You need me. Without me, you’d have nothing to chase.”

“I don’t chase. I catch.”

“Not tonight,” you said, slipping past him before he could react.

Miles spun around, his gauntlet sparking, but you were already gone.

“Damn it,” he muttered, slamming his fist against the railing.

One night, Miles found you bleeding in an alley. You were slumped against the wall, your suit torn, your mask cracked. For a moment, he considered walking away. But something stopped him.

“Didn’t think I’d see you like this,” he said, his voice tight as he crouched beside you.

“Don’t flatter yourself,” you muttered, wincing as you tried to move. “I’m not dying. Not yet.”

Miles sighed, pulling a medkit from his belt. “Hold still.”

“Why are you helping me?” you asked, your voice softer now.

He didn’t answer right away, focusing instead on patching up your wounds. Finally, he said, “Because no one else will.”

You laughed, the sound brittle. “You’re full of surprises, Morales.”

“Don’t get used to it.”

But you did.

After that night, things changed. The fights became less about winning and more about testing each other. You weren’t just his enemy anymore—you were something else.

Tu sais c'qu'on dit

"Soit près d'tes amis les plus chers"

Mais aussi

"Encore plus près d'tes adversaires"

You know what they say

Stay close to your dearest friends

But also

Even closer to your adversaries

“Do you ever think about walking away?” you asked one night, your voice cutting through the quiet.

The two of you were sitting on a rooftop, the city stretching out below. It was an uneasy truce, a temporary pause in your endless battle.

“Walking away from what?” Miles asked, not looking at you.

“All of this. The fighting. The masks. Don’t you ever get tired of it?”

He didn’t answer right away. Finally, he said, “It doesn’t matter if I’m tired. I don’t have a choice.”

You turned to him, your expression unreadable. “There’s always a choice, Morales.”

“Yeah? What’s yours, then?” he shot back. “Why do you do this?”

You hesitated, the mask slipping for just a moment. “Because it’s all I know.”

Miles stared at you, something in his chest tightening. For the first time, he saw the cracks in your armor, the same ones he tried so hard to hide in himself.

“Maybe we’re not so different,” he said quietly.

“Don’t push your luck,” you replied, but your voice lacked its usual bite.

C'est quelle émotion, ta haine

Ou de la douceur

Quand j'entends ton prénom

What kind of emotion, is it hatred

Or pure sweetness when I hear your name?

Miles should’ve seen it coming. The hesitation in your voice, the way you avoided his gaze during the mission. But he didn’t.

“You set me up,” he said, his voice deadly calm as he stared at you across the empty warehouse.

“I didn’t have a choice,” you said, your mask in your hands, revealing the guilt etched across your face.

“There’s always a choice,” he snapped, his gauntlets sparking. “You said that yourself.”

“They had my family, Miles,” you said, your voice breaking. “If I didn’t give them what they wanted—”

“You should’ve told me,” he interrupted, stepping closer. “I could’ve helped you.”

“And risk you getting hurt? Or worse?” You shook your head. “I couldn’t do that.”

Miles stared at you, his anger warring with something deeper. Finally, he turned away.

“Get out,” he said. “Before I change my mind.”

Fuis-moi, le pire, c'est toi et moi

Flee from me, the worst is you and I

Weeks passed, but Miles couldn’t stop thinking about you. He hated you for what you’d done, but he hated himself more for still caring.

“You’re distracted,” Aaron said one night, watching as Miles fumbled with his gauntlets.

“I’m fine,” Miles muttered.

Aaron smirked. “Still thinking about her, huh?”

“Shut up.”

“Look, kid, I get it. She messed you up. But if she’s all you think about, maybe she’s not your enemy.”

Miles didn’t respond. He didn’t know how to explain the war raging inside him—the hatred, the anger, the longing.

When Miles saw you again, you were cornered in an alley, three gang members closing in.

“Couldn’t stay out of trouble, could you?” he said, dropping into the fray.

You looked up, surprise flickering across your face. “What are you doing here?”

“Saving your ass,” he replied, taking down one of the attackers with a single punch.

Once the fight was over, he turned to you, his mask retracting. “We need to talk.”

You nodded, wincing as you leaned against the wall. “Yeah. We do.”

Mais ma meilleure ennemie, c'est toi

But my best enemy is you

Brooklyn was still broken, still dangerous. But for the first time, Miles felt like he wasn’t fighting alone.

“You trust me now?” you asked one night, your mask tucked under your arm.

Miles hesitated, his gaze meeting yours. “Not completely.”

You smiled, your eyes softening. “Fair enough.”

As the two of you disappeared into the night, he couldn’t help but think that maybe, just maybe, his best enemy had become his best ally.

Je t'aime, je te hais, je t'aime, je te hais

I love you, I hate you, I love you, I hate you

Thank you for reading!

[ao3feed-piltovers-finest]

until the tears dry

by thebigqueer

Caitlyn & Vi talk about Vi's emotional and mental state after losing most of her family. It's set just a few days after season 2 ends, and for context, Caitlyn hasn't found Jinx's bomb yet. (tw for blood mention)

~~

Caitlyn knows, in truth, that she would have eventually learned to live with Vi’s loss. Sure, it would have hurt, but dealing with Vi’s decision to leave would have been a walk in the park compared to the things they’ve had to go through just to be together. It would have stung, but it would’ve only left a scar, not a festering wound.

But now, knowing the kinds of sacrifices they’ve made to end up at this point, the kinds of sacrifices Vi’s made to end up here now, she knows that their wounds are going to take a long time to heal. Vi’s might bleed for years.

Words: 7486, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Fandoms: Arcane: League of Legends (Cartoon 2021)

Rating: General Audiences

Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Categories: F/F

Characters: Caitlyn (League of Legends), Vi (League of Legends)

Relationships: Caitlyn/Vi (League of Legends)

Additional Tags: Mentioned Jinx (League of Legends), Mentioned Vander (League of Legends), Mentioned Warwick (League of Legends), Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Domestic Fluff, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Vi Needs a Hug (League of Legends), Caitlyn Needs a Hug (League of Legends), Post-Arcane: League of Legends Season 01, Post-Arcane: League of Legends Season 02

Read on A03. from AO3 works tagged ‘Caitlyn/Vi (League of Legends)’

[newwayin]

name elio gore. nickname el, ellie ( if you're close enough ). age twenty - nine. date of birth april 29th 1995. gender cis - male. sexuality bisexual, male leaning. pronouns he / him. languages known english, spanish, asl + currently learning french. height 6'2, 188 cm. occupation piercer at devil's ink. face claim michael evans behling.

( + ) charming, cheerful, witty, modest, sympathetic, logical, creative, insightful, persuasive, methodical, independent, patient, compassionate. ( - ) tough, rowdy, sarcastic, compulsive, obnoxious, reactionary, insincere, disobedient, argumentative, deceptive.

hobbies posting his stuff on instagram, poetry, hiking. likes good food, spending time with friends, music. dislikes serious family politics, his fuck ass degree. quirks carries a "lucky" coin with him in his wallet a client once gave to him. strengths how true to himself he is, his independence. weaknesses family, it all leads back to family. aesthetics you're looking outside and the birds chirp like it's another saturday morning except it's still and you can't see your reflection in the mirror...  you worry if you ever exist;  you will peel an orange for your beloved,  for your family,  to show you care and that you're listening but little do they know it's molded on the other side that has made its way to the core, it's completely inedible;  so much laughter is your life,  sometimes it's loud and your stomach hurts or it comes out silently. only when you go up to wipe your tears away, a bit of your flesh comes off with it. it doesn't hurt,  you realize. inspirations jayce talis, league of legends / arcane. ichiban kasuga, yakuza: like a dragon. korra, legend of korra. dante, devil may cry; but also that one loud, confident person in high school that stood up for quiet / nerdy kids and made others stand on business + doesn't hesitate to smack stupid people.

THE STORY STARTS HERE ... u get bullet points for now tw for brief mentions of familial death and terminal illness.

born into five siblings, it's hard to make sure he stands out from the rest, especially when his ambitions are the same, yet vastly different from the rest. the environment is similar to eat or be eaten, despite fighting against those standards. everyone expects great things from him but also feels pity for him and his younger siblings, children that just happen to be apart of a family empire of media.

so he grows up defiant, rowdy, and loud, even getting into fights in school, anything to get attention from anyone. he thinks it works but it's right back to square one because of course they have better things to do than to coddle a child and give him exactly what he wants. he gets told that, when he gets older, there's no messing around or acting like a fool... his father expects the best, just like everyone else, even if some got some leniency. maybe, just maybe, he'll get a taste of what it's like to inherit a company, just like his grandfathers. he can't lie, it's extremely tempting and he would be set for life, but is it something he really wants to do? his elder brother and sister have a better chance of obtaining it, after all.

when he graduates high school, he sobers up and realizes how serious the scenario is and that's when time becomes a blur. it's almost immediately he goes straight into college, majoring with a graduate in finance to prove to his grandfather that he is serious about inheriting the business, not without minoring in social media marketing where he lives and studies out of state in california.

he'd like to think he cared about his grandparents but ( TW FOR FAMILIAL DEATH ) when his grandmother died, there wasn't much of anything, witnessing sunken eyes and a throat that could no longer support a confident, lovely voice. he thought that maybe he was just a little bit broken that he couldn't spare tears for a grievance. ( / TW FOR FAMILAL DEATH ) with not much contact with his siblings, he left once again.

while in college, he worked in a rather big, well known music business ( spotify nyehe ) in the finance branch while having contact with celebrities. one would say this is their greatest achievement when something great like this is expected? it's as they say, being in wealth has its perks.

after he graduates college, there's no hesitation when he there's news that ( TW FOR TERMINAL ILLNESS ) his grandfather becomes ill with no time to say when it'll come ( / TW FOR TERMINAL ILLNESS ). so he leaves his job where he works as a piercer, losing his business standings. he tells his family that this is just a side hustle, it's not a job he takes seriously but this is the most fun he's had in any job and even gets to manages the businesses instagram ( guess that degree in social media marketing does come in handy ). still, the hunger to take his grandfather's inheritance by the throat makes him parched and his stomach growling. it's a haunting and a desire all the same and he will play his siblings game to get it if he has to.

WITTLE FUN FACTS ........ headcanons as people say

has actually used his money to donate to several charities that surround supporting lgbtqia+ youth, hunger to the homeless, and wildlife conservation.

his favorite music genres are metal, r&b, breakcore, and that kind of music to chill and relax to ( which include those Nintendo Videos, like these ).

was one of those kids to be like 'want me to give you a piercing?' with a rusty safety pin. he might've gotten in trouble for doing that and getting his friends ear infected ... at school.

had that quickly shattered dream of being a video game streamer.

not really that close to his siblings, excluding his younger sister, and mainly just lives in his own little world.

almost went to college majoring computer science but switched them at the last minute.

definitely did those 'making meals in my college dorm' tiktoks.

got really into poetry from his love of music and finds it a good way to express his feelings and emotions. this is basically hidden from everyone. he occasionally does slam poetry at coffee shops when just writing them down isn't enough.

really adores ferrets and sharks.

was interested in tattoos and piercings for awhile and even vaguely studied to become one. he realizes he's better at piercing than tattooing. just doesn't have the gift for art and that's okay.

masks around his family to believe he's serious, hard - headed, and absolutely determined. whether they believe that or not doesn't bother him. he knows how to act "professional" when he needs to.

he's really not THAT good of a guy. he's compassionate to those that deserve it and doesn't see anything wrong with flaunting what he has to others that don't have the same luxuries he does when that person is being an asshole. it's all an act. everything is.

HOT - TO - GO CONNECTIONS

ignoring the typical go - to connections ( friendship, familial, and romance ) what about that close friend(s) that have been there since the beginning and he somehow manages to keep in contact with them all this time. his anchor but also his stress ball. no, i will not elaborate.

i know he's pissed off some people so give me those that cannot stand him / or his money but like... you wanna fuck me so bad it makes you look stupid.

clients that are his regulars, even bringing in coffee or snacks for the both of them. same place and time?

coworkers... i know you got some juicy gossip for him.

buddies from college or his old job. perhaps you only got close to him because you knew he came from money or he just had that nice approach about him.

crushes on him or on your muse *tucks hair*.

rich kid4rich kid. thank you.

past hook - ups / random sexual history.

just honestly everything and anything, idc give it to me.

[tobias-the-legend]

Rotomblr, huh...? Well, it's worth a shot.

Hello, my name's Tobias Lashwood, I'm one of the most notable competitors from the Lily Of The Valley conference. I'm 25 years old, use he/they pronouns and currently live in Hammerlocke, Galar.

I was recommended to get Rotomblr by a friend of mine in Ferrum, Anne. Hopefully, I can find some more friends on here?

No, I don't have a full team of legendaries. My team is here:

I also have an emotional support Sobble(♂️)! If you have any questions about them, feel free to ask.

As of 19/8/2024, I now have an Absol/Oshawott hybrid named Navy(♂️)!

As of 14/9/2024, I now have a Mimikyu (Latias costume) named Hollow(♀️)!

As of 29/9/2024 + 30/9/2024, this profile has been updated with these boxes below!

(Regular anon is on)

As of 21/10/2024, I'm in a relationship with Zeph ( @【cristalin-league-official】 )!!!

Whilst I'm here—

Hiiiiiiiii!

Darkrai is also open to questions. The rest of my team will only respond if prompted, Darkrai may answer on my behalf at times.

(OOC INFO, GUIDANCE KEYS AND REFERENCES BELOW)

(HELLO, IT'S @【katt-sports】 AGAIN! I also run @【gaia-channel】 + @【augustine-key】 and wanted to try my hand at a solo character blog! Well, solo and a bit if you count Darkrai.)

(Little specific headcanons to note: Tobias is transmasc, gay and autistic. His sense of smell is the most heightened so big buffets or stuff may overwhelm him.)

(Since Tobias is mostly a blank slate in canon, this is hopefully a way for me to build more on what I already have for his character.)

(Trainers and Pokémon alike are welcome to interact!)

(PS: my stuff with Darkrai and Latios may be VERY HEADCANON BASED so prior warning for that)

(No explicit NSFW, although I am an adult. Just don't make others uncomfortable, that's all I ask. Suggestive stuff is fine.)

(Adding on 5/11/2024 due to recent posts I've seen, Tobias is an adult character who can and will mention innuendos and mild sexual themes, as well as follow along with jokes. I will use both cw and tw tags respectively where I deem necessary and will patch posts upon request. Blocking the tags 【cw suggestive】, 【cw sex mention】, 【cw dick joke】, etc (as well as substitute cw for tw) is recommended if that content makes you uncomfortable.)

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UPDATED GUIDE AS OF 20/8/2024:

(Tobias is plain purple text, it's his account so he'll be speaking most of the time.)

(Darkrai is plain red text, they're the most frequent Pokémon user and basically co-run the account at this point. If you get Pelipper Mail containing mints from "-D", that's them.)

(Latios is plain blue text. Any rude anons that are not deleted will be answered by him unless someone else needs to respond for specific reasons.)

(Sylveon is plain pink text.)

(Tyranitar is plain green text.)

(Empoleon and Lucario will both have 《》 surrounding their text.)

(Sobble, Navy and Hollow won't take over much. However, all will be in the shrunken text with <> surrounding them.)

(Jackie, Tobias' roommate, will have 【】 surrounding her text.)

(Tapu Koko will appear every now and again! He will have shrunken text with 【】 surrounding them. Unlike the others, he isn't in Galar.)

(For any potential guest takeovers, there may be a respective event tag.)

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BONUS TAG REFERENCES:

【# Tobias' Rotomblr】 = This is the default post tag used for all of the posts on here.

【# Tobias OTS!】 = OTS means off the screen, this is for scenes that are happening outside of Rotomblr.

【# Legends OTS!】 = Off the screen, but Tobias isn't present.

【# Actor In PokéLearning】 = Posts based on Tobias' acting course.

【# One Deadly Strike - Murder Mystery!】 = A murder mystery roleplay within Rotomblr that Tobias is hosting!

【# Darkrai's Parenthood Journal】 = Posts based on Darkrai's adventure into becoming a parent alongside Tapu Koko.

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CHARACTER REFERENCES (mostly Picrew):

Jackie - Tobias' Roommate

Jay - Tobias' Uncle

Bryan - Tobias' Coursemate/Soup Guy™️

Joanne - Tobias' Course Instructor

Latios - Human Form

Darkrai - Human Form

[sexysapphicshopowner]

🤎 Context/AU (Alternate Universe): Asanté started off as Jalani’s prized pupil in 2006. Now, 2 decades later, they’re happily married and enjoying their honeymoon. Of course, Lani has a surprise to make the moment sweeter.

🤎 Jalani Ball-De Léon: 45, FGSS and Psychology Professor

🤎 Asanté Ball- De Léon: 39, Women's Studies Professor

🤎 CW/TW: mentions of female genital mutilation (briefly), mentions of pregnancy, mentions of forced hysterectomy, angst, fluff, smut, hurt comfort, porn with plot/porn with feelings (there's no actual smut in this one but I'm using the same warnings for both), pet names, lesbians, romance stuff, kissing, cunnilingus, swearing, vaginal fingering, body worship, some spanish, mentions of mental health issues, mentions of hallucinations, no google translate, the kissing of feet (she does not have a foot fetish don't play with me), crying, proofread (will be updating these warnings when I finish part 2)

🤎 A/N: I actually have a fic for this pairing up on ao3, that link can be found here. I've had this fic sitting in my drafts for the longest. Originally it was a two part with Asanté's pov being one chapter and Jalani's being the other because I wanted the more fluffy part to be seen from Asanté's eyes and the angstier, smuttier (it's very soft and meaningful smut tbh) part to be seen from Jalani's so yeah. I think with how long this first part has turned through editing, I'm going to keep them separated. Also tell your mom how you got Rick rolled by an angst fic on tumblr when you finish reading.

🤎 Notes:

Asanté comes from an abusive adoptive family, her mother having illegally gotten a hysterectomy done on her and the mutilation of her genitals (they cut off her clit) just to name a couple of the things that she suffered through just as a child, let alone as she got older

Asanté and Lani met when Asanté was 19 pushing 20 and Jalani was 25 pushing 26, they became friends while Asante was still her student, eventually starting a relationship 6 years after graduation when Asanté came back to her alma mater to teach there

Jalani is originally from Spain with Afro-Spanish parents

Asanté is from New Mexico, she does not know her heritage but grew up speaking Castilian Spanish because coincidentally enough her adoptive mother is a Spanish woman as well

They're honeymooning in Italy

Jalani is pronounced like yuh-lawn-ee

Asanté is pronounced like uh-sahn-tay

Jalani's full name is actually Jalani Alexya Martina Mireia Adelita Teofila Sanchia Basilia Romano Hendrix De Léon

🤎 Word count: 4.3k

🤎 Link to pt. 2

8th August 2026

"If I know what love is, it is because of you. You've awakened something in my soul that was asleep for a long time."

Asanté

She was my forever love. We didn't have to know each other since we were kids, we didn't have to spend the entire 2 decades that we knew each other together, but I never stopped loving her. From the moment we laid eyes, it was set in stone, Jalani Hendrix would be the love of my life.

I started to scroll down on my youtube to find a new video to watch when she called out, "Santé, look at me."

I turned to find her recording me and couldn't help but chuckle at the faces she was making behind the camera. I sat my mug down and slipped my feet back into my slides, getting up to walk towards her.

She put her phone in her pocket and I took her outstretched hand, shaking my head with another soft laugh as she pulled me in, "Good morning, Lani."

She kissed my forehead, "Good morning. You working on something?"

I shook my head as we rocked side to side idly, her arms situated around my waist, mine slung over her shoulders "Nope, just watching youtube videos."

"Cuddles and coffee?"

I hummed as she pressed her lips to mine in soft, repeated kisses, "Only if you're making the coffee."

"Kiss and you've got a deal," she offered. I giggled, mumbling against her lips, "Lani, you're kissing me right now."

"Mm, keywords. I'm kissing you. Kiss me back and I'll make the coffee," she corrected, continuing to kiss me throughout her speaking.

I rolled my eyes playfully as I brought a hand down to cup her cheek, pressing my lips into hers the next time she planted a little peck to mine, kissing her back tenderly. A little happy sigh escaped me as I pulled away, looking up at her through my lashes, "Now do we have a deal?"

She smiled down at me, her thumbs gently tracing along the curve of my waist as she pressed one last kiss to my lips, "Yes, I would believe we do, my love."

Her hands moved up to my arms, pulling them down slowly until she had taken a hold of my hands, kissing across the back of my knuckles before turning around, her arms extended behind her as she linked her fingers with mine.

I gave them a squeeze, calling out as she pulled me along into the kitchen, "Is this not uncomfortable?"

She shook her head, "Nope. It actually feels good on my rotator cuff at the moment."

I laughed, shaking my head, "If you say so."

She let go of my right hand as she made it to the counter, pulling my left arm around her waist, leading to me wrapping both of my arms around her from behind, hands planted against her chest as I rested my head against her back, "How long do you think we can hide out here before our families send a SWAT team to come get us?"

I shrugged as I turned my face to place a kiss between her shoulder blades, her tank top leaving just enough skin uncovered for me to do so, "I don't know. I read somewhere that most honeymoons last about 8 days, but we've been gone for almost a month now. What have you been telling Mamá?"

"That we're on a couple's vacation from work. You know she's gonna kill us for eloping, right," she asked as she held onto my hands, pulling me back outside with her as she grabbed my mug from next to my laptop.

I nodded, shuffling along with her easily as she sniffed my mug to find that I had been drinking tea and not coffee, "Oh for sure. She's been the main person pressuring us to go ahead and have the wedding. She's gonna shit a brick."

"Perhaps we should have a big ceremony for our first anniversary? Just to pacify the family. For us it'll be a vow renewal, to them it'll be our wedding," she suggested as she placed a kettle on the stove while her coffee brewed.

I moved to slip between her and the counter, hands now in the same position but on her back as I rested against her chest, her arms wrapping around me whilst she pressed soft kisses into my hair, simply humming in response, "Mmhh...mhm...sounds good to me..."

She let out a soft laugh, the vibration humming against the side of my face that was pressed against her chest as she brought a hand up to my nape, playing with the hair there, "You okay, baby?"

I wasn't listening but when my brain registered that she was talking to me, I cracked an eye open, looking up at her, "Hm?"

"Still sleepy," she asked, not even minding that I hadn't heard her original question.

"Maybe a little bit. Mostly just comfortable, you're super warm."

"Well, so long as you're alright, that's okay."

I looked up at her, my chin resting against her chest as I poked my bottom lip out, "Kiss?"

She pressed a soft kiss to my lips, smiling, "Mwah, I love you."

I pushed up onto the balls of my feet just slightly, pressing a kiss of my own to her lips, "Mmmmmwah, I love you too."

She made more kissy noises as she kissed my face and neck playfully, "Mmmwa-mmwa-mmwa-mmmwah-mwah! You tryna have kitchen sex?"

I wrinkled my nose, "Ew, no! But we can turn cuddles and coffee into cuddles and cuffing. It is cuffing season, you know."

"Well duh, I know that. I just fully cuffed you a month ago."

I rolled my eyes, "Mhm I'll be upstairs. You're not fucking me." I added, pecking her lips.

She shrugged, lowering her voice as she kissed my lips softly, "I mean, making love is on the table, you said it yourself."

"We'll see. Lots of creamer, yeah?"

"I heard creaming, that implies we're eventually fucking, yes?"

I shook my head as we let go, "Mhm, yeah, stay gay, baby."

"Always!"

I slid open the doors of our bedroom, smiling as I took in the feeling of it. I let myself fall into the bed with a content sigh.

I have married the love of my life...and I'm completely happy with it.

I twirled my hair between my fingers as I swung my feet off the edge, of the bed idly, thinking to myself.

If you had told me when I first met Lani as my professor that two decades later I'd be married to her, I probably wouldn't have believed you for a multitude of reasons.

It was practically no secret back then that I had a crush on her by junior year, my cordial relationship with her as my professor becoming not quite friends, not quite partners. It was...something alright.

Back then I always tried to tell myself that given the 6 year age gap, she likely just saw me as a friend at best, a little sister at worst. But then there was that particular conversation once I got my diploma.

Then the time after I left California to get my teaching degree and start my work down in Texas. Dating was...attempted, but knowing what I knew by that point, I had no choice but to jump on the opportunity when I got offered a job to work at Stanford.

My thoughts were interrupted by her grabbing my ankles, gently tugging me to the end of the bed as she pulled my legs in the air, my toes pointing habitually as she started massaging my right foot, "Whatcha' thinkin' about in here?"

"Nothing much....well, that's a lie. I was thinking about us."

"What about us," she questioned, pressing a kiss to the inside of my ankle as her thumbs ran up the center of my foot, pushing up toward the ball.

"Just how unbelievable it is that we're together. 20-year-old me wouldn't believe that 40-year-old me is here right now."

She gave a soft chuckle as she moved up to massage my toes, the circulation quickly improving, "Well how do you feel now that you are here?"

I let my eyes slip closed as I stretched with a small yawn, "Hmm, content...how about you? Happy I came back to Cali when I did?"

She pressed a kiss to the arch of my foot, "Oh, most definitely. While I was glad we kept in contact, I was much happier when we were in the same state again."

I only gave a little hum in response, earning me another kiss to my foot as she kept massaging it slowly, applying the perfect amount of pressure, "Are you going to sleep on me, cow?"

"No...." I mumbled, yawning again before cracking a small smile, looking at her through half-lidded eyes, "...maybe...."

She chuckled, "More than maybe, baby, I can see it in your eyes. Come on, tea's on the nightstand."

I yawned again, rubbing my eye as I stretched with my other arm, "Mm, you gonna stop massaging my foot so I can sit up and get it?"

"Momentarily," she answered as she let go of it, not before planting a kiss to the ball of it as she pressed her thumbs into the heel of my foot.

I moved to the head of the bed after she set my legs down slowly, situating myself against the pillows before turning to take my mug as she offered it, “Decided against your coffee,” I asked, noting that she went back to massaging my feet, having moved to my left one now, instead of taking up her own mug. 

“Do you want a massage, or do you want me to drink coffee with you, baby?” 

I thought for a few moments, sipping from my mug. I melted as the warm liquid hit my throat, my eyes slipping closed once more before I answered, “Both.” 

She giggled at my reaction to the tea as she picked my foot up to place a kiss to it, “I will drink my coffee once I finish rubbing down your feet. Then I’m giving you a massage.” 

“And what kind of massage would that be, my love?” 

She ran her hands rather loosely from my foot over my shin as she answered, “I’m talking about a terrace massage table, early morning breeze, full-body massage. Jalani style, of course.” 

I couldn’t help but match the small smirk she had on her lips as I took another sip of tea, “Well, when you put it that way....sign me up, baby.” 

She let out a little happy sigh as she massaged the ball of my foot, “I love calling you my wife.” 

“I’m blessed that you loved me enough to want to do so,” I mumbled softly, knowing she was talking more to herself than me. 

“It had nothing to do with how much I loved you. You’re literally the love of my life and everybody knows that, but it was nice being able to put a pretty ring on your finger. Just to be extra sure, you know?” 

I rolled my eyes playfully, “You’re not even possessive like that, Lani. You can just say you wanted to have a nice wedding, professor. Besides, you took me off the market years ago, baby.” 

She finally set my foot down, moving to grab her coffee as she sat next to me, “Oh hush it. You know what I’m trying to say.” 

I leaned onto her shoulder, holding my mug with both of my hands, “Mm, maybe I do...maybe I don’t...You’ll never know...” 

“I think I do, but whatever you say, my love. Hurry and finish your tea, I’m gonna go set up on the terrace.” 

I reached for her arm before she could pull away, “Kiss first?” 

She softened with a smile as she set her mug back down, reaching to take mine, “Of course, baby.” 

I was once again pulled by my ankles to lie on my back as she kissed down my ankle, trailing up the inside of my leg slowly. She took her time to kiss all the skin she could get to, eyes trailing up to meet mine as she got to the inner of my thigh, right at the edge of my silk pajama shorts. 

Her lips planted against the crotch of them before moving up to my stomach. She lingered there for a while, tracing my hysterectomy scar with soft kisses before she spoke, “You know, I’ve gotta tell you something, Santé." 

“What’s that,” I asked, a little breathless from the intensity of her stare combined with the intimacy of her kisses. 

“We’ve got one baking.” 

A puzzled look crossed my features as I tilted my head, “One what, Lani?” 

“A bun,” she answered almost nonchalantly as she planted a deliberate kiss to my scar again. 

My brow furrowed before I let out a soft gasp, sitting up, “Say swear. Don't play with me like that, Jalani.” 

She gestured behind me with a small smile, “Check under your pillow, my love.” 

I eyed her for a few moments, taking in the sincerity in her eyes along with the warmth in her small smile as she gestured softly to the pillow again. I turned around, lifting it to find a small cream-colored envelope tied with a small, emerald green ribbon. I looked between her and the envelope for a few seconds causing her to giggle behind her hand. 

“Santé, it's not a bomb, relax. Breathe, okay? Just open it." 

With shaking hands, I untied the ribbon, peeling it open carefully. I pulled out a small thank you card, the inside decorated with Jalani’s small, neat, looping handwriting: 

20 years ago, you walked into my classroom, an entire 2 hours before your 6 am class started. That was my introduction to the never-ending enigma that is Asanté Janara Anahi Ball. For 20 years, I have watched you grow and evolve into the woman I now know as my wife. I’m sure you noticed that this is a thank you card, and that’s because this is my thanks to you. 

Thank you for opening up to me. For putting up with me. For sticking by me even when we didn’t know what we were, let alone what we were doing with each other. 

Thank you for allowing me to teach you how to love whilst you simultaneously taught me what real love even felt like. 

Thank you for the smiles. For the laughs. For the cuddles. For the kisses. For the spontaneous dance parties. For every pie we burnt together because we were too busy dancing and singing around. For every pile of leaves raked that we then jumped into together. 

Thank you for all the quiet moments as well. The looks across the dinner table. Across the room. The slow dances in the living room. The late-night crying sessions. Thank you for it all. 

For 9 years now, you’ve been the love I never knew I needed. I’m over the moon to tell you that we’ll finally be adding a new love to our life. 

For the last 6 years of us being secretly engaged, our fertility journey hasn’t been any easier. Well... 

8 weeks down, about 32 weeks to go. 

32 weeks before we bring a creation of our own into this world. 

I can’t wait to explore, experience, and learn motherhood with you, and thank you for giving me the option and chance to do so. 

Here’s to our first peek at our baby, and to the chance to see it in person some day soon. 

I was already holding back tears as I shakily picked the envelope back up, finding a sonogram. There it was, in black and white, sitting in the middle of the picture was the tiniest outline of a little head and a body. 

I looked up at her, eyes still glossy as a few stray tears trekked down my cheeks, mumbling more to myself, “This...this is really happening....Y-you’re.....pregnant....” 

I mentally smacked myself for sounding so dumb at my big age. 

Of course she is, idiot, you’re looking at the baby right there! 

She didn’t hold the question against me as she nodded with a soft smile, “Sure am. This last round took. I’ve known since I was about 3 weeks. I got the ultrasound done a couple days ago when I went to get us some small groceries.” 

My brain didn’t register her words fully as I just looked at her, wide-eyed, “You’re pregnant...” I repeated, voice full of stupor.

She let out a soft chuckle, nodding again, “You’re absolutely correct. We’re having a baby. How do you feel?”

I shook myself out of my reverie, glancing back down to the sonogram in my hand, stroking my thumb over it, “I....it’s an almost indescribable amalgamation of feelings. More than anxiety, a little less than fear....joy...disbelief....I’m feeling....a lot....” 

She took my face gently in her hands, pressing quick, soft kisses down the bridge of my nose, “Hey, hey...that’s okay. I can only imagine. You have no idea how hard it was to keep it from you.” 

I let out a small giggle, tears still falling down my cheeks even as she tried to stroke them away with her thumbs, “Well, now you not drinking at our wedding makes a whole lot more sense. I mean...I know we had almost just gotten the insemination done practically, but...still...” 

She smiled, even as she kissed the tears from my eyes, still gently caressing my cheeks, “Yep. I already knew by then.” 

I relaxed into her touch, smiling back at her, “I can’t believe it’s really been a whole two decades. I mean...I know we’re always talking about it these days because that is a relatively long time but...still.” 

“How long does it feel like we’ve known each other?” 

I gave a small shrug as I pulled her hands from my face, linking my fingers with hers, “It somehow feels like it’s been both longer, yet like it hasn’t been long enough at the same time if that makes sense....” 

“It does, but could you elaborate as to why you feel that way? I know why I do, but it’d be nice to hear it from your point of view.” 

I gave a soft shrug, “Like...when we’re together, it’s hard to remember what life was like without you, but at the same time, I do remember because before I met you it was....horrible...and that’s just to put it lightly. 

Or the 6 years I spent in Texas before I came back to Cali to work with you. That entire time, even though we were still in contact with each other, even if sparingly at time, I couldn’t help but long to have known you for a much longer time. 

It’s like I was anticipating meeting you almost. Maybe not you in specific, but when I was little, you know I found my solace in fairytales and romance, I was waiting for that person to come through and appreciate me for who I truly was. To see me behind the façade. 

And now that I have met you? And we’re together? I can’t get enough of it. You’ve managed to make 20 years feel more like two, loving me in every kind of way, and I can’t be more thankful for it. 

You waxed poetic thanking me for all the little intricacies of our relationship, but I’m thankful to you for all of that and so much more. Your patience, kindness, and love knows no bounds and it amazes me to no end. 

I was just a few months shy of 20 when we met, now here I am, about to be 40 and we’re on a honeymoon with you telling me you’re officially pregnant with our first child. 

20 years is a long time. And yet....I still want more. I want to live as much of my life as possible with you in it, Lani. Like....ugh, I feel like I’m just rambling and repeating myself now.” 

She smiled warmly, pulling me into her arms as she set the sonogram, note and envelope aside, kissing my temple as she rubbed my back gently, “It’s okay, baby. I understand you fully and I hear you loud and clear, I promise. I actually had to sit there for a good while when I wrote your note because, like you said, it’s hard to remember a time before me and you. 

It was so hard for me to remember what life was like without you because there’s nothing like being around you. Your energy and your presence are off the charts, and while some people can’t handle it, I love it. 

Just seeing you in the morning during the four years that I taught you, getting to see that million-dollar smile and hear that laugh...all of it was just...it made my day every time. I can’t help but love everything about you because you reciprocate. Any energy I put into us you match it 10 times over. 

I’ve never had that with anybody before you. I know that I haven’t been perfect and shit for us hasn’t always been easy, but I meant what I said. I’m so grateful to you for how patient you are with me as I navigated becoming a better person and partner for you. Most people get tired of my shit, but not only did you not get tired of it, you called me on my bullshit and helped me see why those parts of me were toxic and uncalled for. 

You’ve stayed with me this long and....I’m really hoping you’ll stay longer.” 

I looked up at her, our eyes burning into one another. As we stared into the depths of the other’s soul, our bodies shifted, sitting to face one another as we both brought our hands up to hold the other’s face. We both had tears streaming down our cheeks and while she was busy wiping my tears, I was focused on tracing her features with my fingers gently, memorizing and mapping the lines of her skin. 

As her onyx-colored eyes pulled me in like the universe’s largest whirlpool, I sw the things that always brought me back to her. Love, acceptance, compassion....but above all these things: home. They always say that home is where the heart is and my home....my heart was with her. 

I used to nerver understand that when Lani would tell me that home is never going to be a physical place all those yeas ago. But, now I do. It’s where all your love and life reside. I can healthily say that my life and love are Lani. 

She once told me that she wasn’t sure she had any knowledge left to teach me....and I asked her to teach me how to love. And teach me she did. With her came all 7 of the Greek words for love. 

Her soul brought passion, lust, desire, obsession, unconditional love, self-love, intimacy, friendship, infatuation, commitment, family, and empathy. I was blessed with an angel whose voice and body feel like heave. And her name is Jalani Hendrix De Lèon. 

She continued wiping my cheeks with her thumbs as she finally spoke, prompting me to still my hands at her face, moving them to curl up into her curls at the nape, “I love you, Asanté." 

“I love you, Jalani,” I responded breathlessly, eyes locked onto her unblinkingly. 

Her voice was soft, low enough to be carried aay with the morning breeze that blew through the bedroom from the terrace and open windows, “I promise that as long as I have life to live and function in my body, I will never love another soul as much as I love you. No sight, touch, scent, sound, or taste will ever compare to or exceed the experience that is you for me. In this life and the next, I wish to be yours.” 

Tears continued to spill out both of our eyes as we drew closer, her hands tilting my head up to hers just the slightest bit. I had so much I wanted to say in response but what felt like not enough time to say it all. 

As her breath fanned out against my face, her apple cinnamon scent invading my nostrils and engulfing me to the point where the only thing I saw was her eyes and the only thing I could feel was her hands cradling my face oh so gently. 

My brain finally was able to compute a response, our lips brushing together as I spoke each word from how close together our faces had drawn, “Call it selfish, but God....I’m never gonna give you up...I want this to be it for me. Me and you. I want this to be our endgame. We’ve tried that shit with other people and nobody else works for me. Not like you do. 

No one on this Earth can elicit the same feeling that comes from being with you. I promise you....I will always be yours...” 

I could feel her smile against my lips, her words pressed between us like dried flowers in a book, “Tu amor vale más que un millón de estrellas para mí.” 

I had no choice but to smile back, a breathless laugh escaping me, “Estoy feliz de compartir cada instante de mi vida a tu lado.” 

Somewhere, deep in the universe, a star was born as our lips connected. The combination of our tears, the emotions left from the conversation we’d just shared.....the accumulation of our feelings and thoughts for one another was explosive. 

Somewhere deep within the realm of my being, not only did our souls touch, but the purest parts of my being became one with hers. And right here in our little secluded corner of Italy..... 

My life became complete.

🤎©️ All work belongs to sexysapphicshopowner. Do not use or repost my content in any way without my consent or permission. Thank you! 🤎

🤎 Taglist 🤎:

@certainlynotasimp @trafalgardvivi

[lucyid-gaming]

Hellooo

This is my casual/meme account! :3

I'm Lucjan (Lucian in english) also know as Lucek, Lucy, Lucyfer (eng. Lucifer), Lck and you know, Lucyid. I'm a queer dude from Poland :3 My primary interest are video games, art, plants, animals. English is not my native language so please bear with me! (also my favorite color is red if you couldn't tell) My art account is: @lucyid8 My GODS (partner) account is: @smutneczwartki

Links to my other socials: https://lucyid.neocities.org/archive/links This blog is quite messy, becouse i have too many intrest, so here's a tag guide. Search a tag that interests you on my blog and have fun! Also eventually I will make my own memes and silly doodles, just not for now :( Tags used to organize stuff on this blog: Media (mostly games) tags:

among us ★ baba is you ★ backrooms ★ baldur's gate 3 ★ breaking bad ★ darkwood ★ deltarune ★ doctor who ★ ena joel g ★ fear and hunger ★ firefox ★ fnaf ★ garten of banban ★ quilty gear ★ hollow knight ★ jojo's bizzare adventure ★ katamari ★ league of legends ★ limbus company ★ little goody two shoes ★ lobotomy corporation ★ locoroco ★ madness combat ★ mandela calaogue ★ minecraft ★ my little pony ★ off game ★ patapon ★ petscope ★ pokemon ★ rain world ★ ratatan ★ sonic ★ suika game ★ superhot ★ terraria ★ the amazing digital circus ★ touhou project ★ ultrakill ★ undertale ★ who's lila? ★ world of horror ★ yiik

ALSO: I don't like all of the media mentioned in the tags, like I hate Garten of Banban for example, but I love memes about it, so yeah Animal tags:

🐱 kitty - cats 🐰 bunny - bunnies and rabbits 🐹 hampter - hamsters 🐴 hors - horses 🐢 turtle - turtles 🐸 frog - frogs and toads 🦎 lizard - reptiles 🐍 snek - snakes 🐛 bug - bugs and insects (posts with spiders will have additional tw spider tag) 🐙 sea creatures - things that swim/exist in waterrr [imagine a seal emoji here] seal - seals, a tag dedicated to my bibi :3

Nature tags:

🧊 ice - ice and snowy stuff 🍃 nature - cool nature, plants and landscape related stuff 💧 rain - rain and gloomy weather ☁️ sky - sky and space related stuff Other tags:

☆ awesome art - art that is not fanart

☆ art history - interesting stuff and memes about old art

☆ boomer comics - it is what it is

☆ blinkies - funky internet blinkies

☆ deviantart stamps - funky internet stamps

☆ gaming - gaming related memes and posts

☆ photography - cool/interesting photos

☆ polska - posts in my native language about anything

☆ tumblr lore - not always lore stuff, just like, tumblr memes

☆ useful - cool tutorials, resources, tips and overall, useful stuff

☆ yaoi gaming - memes and posts about yaoi, gay stuff etc.

☆ yuri gaming - memes and posts about yuri, lesbian stuff etc.

I will update tags once in a while :3