#jinx will come next chapter i promise

[noxusstrap]

"I'll Get It Right This Time" An Ekko Time-Travel Fix It Fic

Ok so Hi! This is my first time ever dipping my toes into Tumblr posting besides just coming on here and reading some godly one-shots.

Im posting my fic here, as well as AO3, just in case!

Hope you guys enjoy!

CHAPTER I : THE BOY WHO SHATTERED TIME

Ekko felt like he was gonna hurl.

 Heimerdinger wasn't supposed to- he wasn't supposed to sacrifice himself like that, Powder wasn't supposed to come in during the process, wasn't supposed to see the real him, and he was so sure he wasn't supposed to see the expression she made at him so full of Love and Affection; but it all happened and he didn't know what to do now. He always thought himself to be the most sensible and sane of his former friends; but, now? Now he just wants to go back to his Jinx and save his people.

But the Universe had other plans.

He felt the hairs on his neck begin to stand up and he instinctively knew. The Hex Core was acting up, and he didn't know what to do. All it took was a single glance at the Z-Drive before everything went white.

_____

The first thing he could feel was the paved road beneath him, followed by the sounds of a bustling street and that distinct smell of Home.

It worked. 

Ekko sat up and silently cheered.

He was back! Only-

He paused and looked around, and everything was bigger than what he remembers, and that's when he noticed it; his hands were tiny. His child-like hands were just barely hanging onto the Z-Drive, or rather, what remained of it. The Hexcore glowed softly within the now shattered confinements of the Z-drive. The monkeys seemingly rusted like they've been used for decades rather than just a handful of times and all he could do was stare.

Oh Janna.

The device worked alright, but it worked too well, now; he's stuck in the past with no way back to the future.

It was supposed to only be four seconds…HOW COULD IT HAVE THROWN HIM OVER A DECADE TO THE PAST?!

“Fuck,” he sighed, just barely stopping himself from banging his head against the alley wall; he wasnt going to look a gifted horse in the mouth; he had gotten a once-in-a-lifetime chance and he was going to milk it for all it was worth. First things first, he had to figure out what day he was sent back to, and more importantly, what can he prevent from happening this time around to benefit the future?

Just as he was about to take a step out of the alley, he paused. He took a small glance at the Z-Drive; it was too big to disguise it as anything, and it would look suspicious if a small little child was carrying a device that looked like it could be worth millions even though it was severely damaged. He looked around, ducking between the dumpsters in the alley before finding a satchel, it was big enough to hold the broken Z-Drive but not big enough to arouse suspicion.

Ekko hummed, put the machine in the satchel and made his way out of the alley.

_____

His body instinctively carried him to Benzo’s Pawn Shop though his mind was absent, stirring with thoughts and possibilities of a different future, one where Jinx, Vi, Vander, and everyone else are still alive and well; it was dangerous to hope for that future. (he wanted to hope so so so badly-)

His thoughts come to a halt when they reach Jayce and his dear friend and partner, Viktor. He knew there was a universe out there where Hextech was never invented and it was an almost perfect world; of course he would know, he lived through it.

He paused right at the entrance of the shop, everything he could hear around him quieted to a light hum.

Just because Hextech went bad in one future doesn't mean we can't have good Hextech ideas and innovations. We just have to stop whatever the fuck Viktor did with the Hexcore; whatever it was. And- maybe bring Heimerdinger into this mess he made.

Ekko smirked and pushed open the doors. The ding of the bell rang resolutely throughout the small shop, and his false bravado fades as quickly as it appeared.

What if Benzo’s already Dead?

What if I arrived so much later than I predicted?

Was Powder still Powder?

Is Vander still Alive?

What if-

“Hey little man, where have you been all day, ey?” 

Ekko slowly looked towards the back of the shop, where the noise originated from. He knew that voice; he knew it better than anyone, but he couldn't just let himself hope before seeing him for himself.

He clutched the straps of the satchel holding the Z-Drive and took a single step towards the back room, before he could take another, a hand emerged from the back. He KNEW that hand.

And then he saw him.

“I’ve been waiting for you to come back to the shop, you just ran off and it’s dan-” Benzo gets cut off by Ekko slamming into his stomach at nearly sub-human speeds for a hug. He stumbles slightly, taken aback at the sheer strength Ekko showed, and lightly chuckled. “Woah there! Almost made me fall there, when did you get so strong Little Man!” He teases. 

Ekko let out an inaudible whimper, tightened his hold just a little more before releasing Benzo.

“Always been this strong Benzo.” Ekko’s voice miraculously kept an even tone despite everything in him wanting to cry and bury his face into the arms of his pseudo-father.

Benzo knew something was bothering Ekko, and he knew it had something to do with whatever he was carrying in that satchel of his, but chose not to pry, he could tell me what's going on if he really wanted me to know, he reasoned. Instead, he nuzzled Ekko’s hair and hummed, nodding to himself before slowly making his way to the back of the store.

“Listen kid-” Benzo stops in his tracks and calls over his shoulder, “Whatever you do, just be safe.” He smiles, and with that, he leaves. Ekko tries to get his body to move, to do anything, but it refused to listen. All he could do was watch the man he admired so much go back to his work.

Calm down, you need to calm down,Ekko chided himself, trying to psych himself up.

Everything’s okay, Benzo being here means Vander hasn't died yet, that means Claggor and Mylo are still alive and Power is still Powder. Ekko looked around the various shelves of knick knacks and useful items, his eyes gliding through them before stopping on a particular piece of hardware. It looked familiar, but where had he seen it before?

He narrowed his eyes, his mind fixated on this one piece; he knew this was before the deaths of everyone he loved but why was this specific piece of scrap ringing some sort of bell in his brai-

It was the last piece Jayce bought from them to complete his work.

Ekko felt bells frantically go off in his head; this means he was sucked back two months before Jayce’s apartment got blown up, two months before Ekko told anyone about the young scholar he scammed over the last couple of mechanisms needed to complete a project, two months was all he got to work with.

He cursed silently, his mind scrambling to make a cohesive plan with the amount of time he had at his disposal. If he could fix the Z-Drive, it would make his life so much easier, but as he took a single glance into the satchel, he decided it was best to leave that particular project on the back burner for now. He wouldn't even know where to begin with the Z-Drive without Heimerdinger's help, and even then, this wasn't his Heimerdinger anymore, this wasn't the brilliant Professor casted out of the Council; this isn't the Professor who found solace and companionship within the Firelights; this isn't the professor who sacrificed everything for him to be here right now.

Speaking of the Firelights, would they even be able to form now that he’s trying to fix everything? Would he be willing to establish the Firelights again for the sake of providing a sanctuary for the people of the Lanes? Oh without a doubt. But, he muses, it would be a couple of years from now that it would happen; for now, he needed to think of what to do, and he needed to write it down fast.

He scrambled to his little hideout on top of the shop, his fingers gliding through the first piece of paper he could find at lightning speeds, his mind running a hundred miles a minute, trying to formulate a plan that's feasible in two months, or 8 weeks, or if you really want to get technical, 1,460 hours. When he stopped writing, his hand was cramping, seemingly bruised from all the back and forth on the paper, but his mind was clear and his heart was finally beginning to hope for a better future this time around.

EKKO’S PLAN FOR ABSOLUTE WORLD DOMINATION (SAVING EVERYONES ASSES)

Stop Silco from mass producing Shimmer (Stop Silco in general by ANY means necessary) ((I want whatever they had in the Other world to happen here))

DON'T LET POWDER BECOME JINX! (maybe recruit her in his plans?) ((who is this ‘Isha’ girl I keep seeing in my dreams of my reality? Was she real? Why was she with Jinx?))

Prevent Jayce from fucking things up this time around (maybe help out with his experiments? Perhaps give him a reason to not fuck up the trade with Zaun with the Hexgates?)

Never let Claggor and Mylo die this time around. (They deserve a better future than what they got)

Get Heimerdinger to help turn Zaun into a Utopia (he mentioned doing so much in such little time? Was he the one who made Zaun a better place?)

Re-Establish the Firelights in case things go awry.

Fix the Z-Drive whenever possible (I don't want it to malfunction and bring more problems with it)

He looked at the now hung plan on his wall. He had two months to do everything on his list, and if they tried to stop him, he would make it EVERYONE'S problem. He knew the first thing on his agenda was regrettably the most time-consuming; but he couldn't afford to waste more time. He had to find a way to stop Silco even if it meant killing the guy, (he knew he had some good in him; he saw it in the alternate timeline, if he could just figure out what cause him to turn good in that timeline, it would make his life so much eas-). He had everything on the line, and he wasn't going to LOSE this time.

Let the games begin. Ekko smirked.

Am I gonna go insane writing this? Oh ABSOLUTELY!

Do I Care? FUCKKKKKK NOOOOOO!!!!!

Let me know what yall think; its my first time posting kinda nervy..

[velaenam]

𝟏𝟎-𝟒

                                                                         ◦ ♡

𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐛 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 – non!mc. caleb deals with the events after getting deployed. 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬 / 𝐭𝐰 – NSFW!! (18+) wartime setting/era, swearing, hand job, mature themes, sexual themes, angst, PAIN. LITERAL ANGUISH notes – not proofread. haha..im so sorry, you'll still love the story right..? right..?? LOL 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 - 2 of 3 | previous chapter / next chapter — reblogs comments & likes are appreciated. let me know if you'd like to be added to the taglist!

caleb sits on a rusted ammo crate, elbows on his knees, the weight of the sky pressing down on him. feels like a gut punch. he wants to go home. gunfire echoes in the far hills, sharp and distant like a memory you try not to think about. the air is thick with smoke and burnt earth, but in this moment, everything feels muted—like the world’s holding its breath… for you.

he pulls off one glove with his teeth, fingers fumbling into the fold of his helmet. it’s there, right where he always keeps it. the polaroid. the sweet polaroid of his beloved woman..

it’s a little bent at the corners now. worn from the way he keeps unfolding and folding it. but the image is still clear. your lips are glossed,your eyes laughing and cheeks flush with absolute embarrassment as he held you in an almost bridal position. his hand in your hair.  his eyes soft. a piece of warmth in a place that has none.

the girl who called him sweet. the one who laughed at his fake radio voice and looked at him like he was a poem to be loved, not a soldier. he stares at the photo for a long time. like if he looks hard enough, you’d speak. like you’ll lean through the image and remind him he’s still a man. still human. still yours. to come home..

caleb presses the photo to his lips. “soon,” he whispers. his voice barely makes it past the wind. “i promised.” 

caleb’s still holding the photo when boots crunch over gravel behind him. he doesn’t look up—he already knows the rhythm of those steps. it’s tom, call sign iceman . loud, lopsided, always dragging his left foot like it owed him money.

“you moonin’ over that girl again, brother?” tom’s thick accent shines through the sounds of planes above them. he grins, plopping down beside him with two steaming tin mugs. he offers one to caleb, who takes it with a quiet nod.

“you’d think she was the only woman in the world, the way ya look at that thing.”

caleb lets out a dry chuckle, tucking the polaroid back into the fold of his helmet like it’s sacred. “she’s not. but she’s the only one that looked at me like i was something worth coming home to.”

tom hums, blowing on his coffee. “mine’s got this way of fussin’ at me when i forget to call her sweetheart. like it’s a crime against the state.” –  “you forget on purpose just to hear her yell,” caleb smirks.

“damn right i do,” tom laughs, shaking his head. “that woman’s got fire. married up and i know it. but i love her like life itself. we got two kids already. tryin t’ be there for the third.”

they sit there for a moment, sipping coffee, watching the sun try and fail to break through the smoke-choked sky. he thinks about you, what you’re doing now. wondering if you’re still in that damn bar. maybe he could take your fine ass back home and give you a couple of kids himself.. or maybe he could be your house husband while you put your degree to work. either way, win win for him. 

“what’s the first thing you’re gonna do when you get back?” caleb asks, voice low, almost like he’s afraid the question might jinx them.

tom doesn’t hesitate. “take her dancing. somewhere with shitty music and bad lighting. doesn’t matter. i just wanna spin her around till she’s laughing so hard she can’t breathe.”

caleb smiles into his cup. “you soft bastard.” – “what about you, captain war hero– or should i say, lieutenant war hero?” tom bumps his shoulder against caleb’s. “you gonna find your girl and write her a sonnet? propose?”

caleb shakes his head, gaze far away. “nah. not yet. just wanna take her out somewhere quiet. real quiet. where she can wear whatever she wants, and i can hold her hand in the open. maybe get her a slice of apple pie.”

tom squints, quizzical at his odd and random choice of dessert, “apple pie?” a beat as they pause, then, “yeah,” caleb says, eyes soft. “she laughed like apple pie.” – tom  blinks. “...what the fuck does that even mean?”

“don’t worry about it,” caleb mutters, cheeks pink, trying to hide behind his mug.

“nah nah, you don’t get to drop poetry on me like you’re some socrates or somethin’ and just walk away from it,” – “socrates wasn’t even a fuckin’ poet.” tom  grins. “jesus, you are in love.” caleb shrugs, a small smile forming in his face as he fake punches tom. doesn’t deny it.

they sit in silence for a bit longer, the kind of quiet that only happens between people who’ve nearly died together. then caleb says, almost too soft to hear, “i promised her i’d come back.”

tom’s palm connects with calebs chest, patting him in a brotherly manner. “then you better keep that promise.”

dear captain caleb,

i don’t even know where to start. it’s been a month since that night, and somehow i still hear your voice in my head like it’s trying to call me back on a poor shoddy makeshift radio i don’t have. “10-4, captain caleb out.” i still laugh when i think about it. you were so serious about it too. pardon my french but that was kinda sexy. you should pretend to be a pilot next time we make love ;) .

... i miss you. i miss you so bad it feels like i swallowed a stone and it never passed. i’ve replayed that night more times than i can count—how your fingers fit between mine, how you kissed me like i was something soft and fragile. i know we didn’t have a label or promises or anything, but god, caleb… you made me feel chosen. and i’ve been holding onto that feeling like life is depending on it.

i graduated. can you believe that? your girl finally made it out with a degree and a tiny piece of paper that says i’m supposed to know what i’m doing now. i still don’t. but hey—i’m the manager at the bar now. yeah. me. in charge. the same girl who threw a bottle of tequila at a patron for slapping her ass.

they still do “thank you troops” night, and sometimes i wonder if the bell will ring and it’ll be you walking in, tired but looking for me. i know it’s stupid. i know how this works. but i still glance at the door more than i want to admit…

anyway—this letter’s getting long, and i know you probably don’t have time for much reading. so i’m tucking a little surprise in with this. it’s... well. let’s just say it’s a polaroid of me. not one you’ve seen before. think burlesque..risque. think red silk and not a whole lot else. thought maybe if you missed me—really missed me—you’d want something to look at that might help.

don’t worry. it’s just for you.

come back safe, caleb. i mean it. i don’t care how long it takes. just come back. you still owe me that date, remember?

all my love, the girl who still thinks you’re a war hero– which.. you will be after you come back.

♡

caleb reads the letter twice. once with trembling fingers. twice with a shaking breath. he’s sitting alone in the back of the hangar, a single bulb swaying above his head, casting long shadows on the concrete. the air smells like oil and gunpowder and something dying in the distance. but your words cut through the static, warm and bright like you wrote them in candlelight. he sits in silence as he listens to troops around him outside, but not in the room.

his thumb grazes the edge of the polaroid. thinking about it.. burlesque red. lace and soft skin. your smile like a secret only he gets to know. the kind of picture that could kill a man in the middle of war.

caleb exhales hard through his nose, leaning forward, elbows on his knees. he presses the photo to his forehead like it might cool the storm behind his eyes.

“fuck,” he mutters. caleb was a powerful man, but lust was a different beast. 

the longer he stared your beautiful lingerie the harder his dick twitched. to press his fingers against your soft and supple breast, and to kiss every inch of you again like he did that night. the translucent fabric leaves little to no imagination as he fumbles his belt, unzipping his uniform. 

he was rock hard. his cock twitching to be inside you, to watch you suck him dry. caleb stares  at the photo as he palms the tip of his dick, his moans quiet like a mouse, but his pleasure skyrocketing. his jaw tightens, teeth gritting at how divine it felt. he was long overdue to cum. 

his fingers trace his tip, slowly tracing circles until he got tired and slow stroked himself, lazily and slowly thrusting into his hands. he rubs his cock on your polaroid, imagining that it was your skin that he was rubbing it on. his moan grew an octave louder, thanking god that the sounds of tanks, planes and helicopters– and men shouting, were stifling his voice. 

though – he felt shameless. he was jacking himself off in the middle of a battlefield, but he needed this. he needed to give into his pleasure, because after all, you did send him such a beautiful photo to remind him that he was still a man, that you missed him greatly and dearly. 

caleb starts to thrust harder, his fingers wrapping tighter on his cock. his face red with want and embarrassment as he stared down at your gorgeous smiling face. he bites his lip, to silence himself. it was loud but he still wanted to not chance it.

he keeps pumping until he feels his head spin. his heart beat quickens, his breath getting ragged and his carnal instinct overtaking him. his cum shoots– into your risque polaroid, and his eyes roll back slightly, thinking as if his cum just landed on your beautiful face in front of him. 

he catches his breath, ragged with need, as he quickly goes to wipe the polaroid off from his nut, and quickly cleans himself, before zipping his pants and getting ready to go back out.

caleb’s name echoes through the camp.

“lieutenant caleb, sir! you’re needed at the ridge, immediately! colonels orders! ”

he stands immediately, instincts snapping into place like clockwork. the softness in his shoulders fades, replaced by the rigid posture of someone who can’t afford to hesitate- especially with that sound of urgency. he tosses the rest of his coffee, glancing once at tom, who sits on a dented supply crate chowing down on a chili mre like fat kid with cake.

“hold down the fort?” caleb says, already halfway to the tent flap.

“yeah, yeah. go be heroic, lieutenant,” tom nods with a mock salute.

the flap swings shut behind caleb, leaving tom in the dust of his wake. tom rolls his eyes, stretches his back, then turns toward caleb’s cot. it’s nothing special. just a stiff mattress, dusty boots beneath it, and caleb’s personal sack propped against the side like always. the one no one’s allowed to touch.

except caleb left it half open today. tom doesn’t mean to snoop, he swears he doesn’t, but something peeks out—just enough to catch his attention. a photo.

he blinks, leaning forward, the corner of the image curled just enough for him to pull it free. he expects the bartender girl. the polaroid caleb always kept close, the one he waxed poetic over like she was god’s own muse.

but it’s not her.

it’s another woman with soft, proud eyes, —nothing like the girl with the saddened smile at the dock. this woman’s holding a baby. maybe 11 months old. curly hair. wide cheeks. a onesie with ducks on it.

tom freezes.

the handwriting on the back is delicate, almost like a whisper.

our baby says goodnight, always waiting for you, and so am i. love, mc.

tom exhales, slow and shaky, holy shit!  he stares at the photo a second longer, the reality sinking in like cold water.

“you son of a bitch…” he mutters. he puts the picture back exactly where he found it, seals the sack shut, and sits back down on the crate, mind spinning. he looks toward the tent flap, still swaying from where caleb had disappeared.

so many things suddenly make sense.

the silence. the restraint. the almost in caleb’s eyes whenever he talked about you. 

tom drags a hand down his face, like he was guilty by association.

caleb was never just in love.

he was already someone else’s.

“ this dumb fucking bastard. ”

i hadn’t seen him in a year and a half.. i wonder if he misses me.. the letters stopped coming about a couple months ago.. i wasn’t given any updates on what was going on, and if… he was…no... all i know is that– i miss him. i miss the scent of him when he hugged me. i miss the way he calls me sweetheart.. i want him home. 

“mommy mommy!” my eyes snap open, to see my beautiful baby boy babbling to me in his high chair. i blink slowly before i give him a sweet little grin, as i go to pinch his cheeks and raise the bowl to feed him. 

after he goes to take a nap, i go to the bathroom. i lift my hands on the cold sink, staring deeply into my face. eye bags, messy hair– when was the last time i even went out with my friends? i don’t look good.

.

the baby woke up crying again. third time tonight? maybe fourth. i’ve honestly stopped counting. i lift him from the cradle, his tiny fists balled up like he’s fighting the whole world. his cheeks are flushed, lashes stuck together with tears. snot from the crying. i hold her against my chest as i pat him back to sleep– or as best as i can, but i go on. i bounce him gently, swaying as i stare off into the window and the moon. my back hurts. my wrist hurts. and my heart.. oh my heart.

they sit down. her back hurting from the walk. caleb was careful, gentle, as he held her and supported her on her way down to the chair. he sits next to her, his widened childish grin very visible. he then takes a look at the sky as if he’s daydreaming in a field full of flowers. his merriment, a sign that this was his dream: “i’m so excited pipsqueak. i love you. i can’t wait to be a father.” 

‘you were so proud of me. of the baby growing inside me. you’d kiss my stomach every night like it was sacred tradition.’  i tear up at the thought, lips trembling with overwhelming sadness. ‘god i wish you were here.’ 

. 

i open my eyes, listening to the trumpets go off. i lay there longer than i stay awake. the peacefulness surrounds me as if i am in heaven. no crying. just silence as the trumpets die down. i can’t believe i’m saying this but– i’m happy for the silence. it reminds me that there are good parts in life.. not that the baby is bad… 

i used to daydream about being a mom. i thought i’d be better at it. softer. more patient. but i get angry sometimes. not at the baby, never him. just at the world. at caleb. at myself for crying quietly into my pillow so my son doesn’t have to see me fall apart.

i go through the motions like muscle memory. warm bottle, rock him gently, hum a lullaby even though my throat is raw. and sometimes, only sometimes, i talk to caleb out loud like he’s still here. like he’ll answer me back from the hallway or the kitchen, rubbing sleep from his eyes and wrapping his arms around my waist like he used to.

“i folded your shirts the way you like,” i whisper sometimes, even though no one’s listening.

today i found one of his old t-shirts. the one he wore religiously back when we were in college. his aviation shirt that he wore loud and proud like a silly kid. it was stuffed in the back of the closet like a forgotten piece of a past life. i held it against my face. it didn’t smell like him anymore. it just smelled like time. it looked like time as well. it was worn out– can’t even make out the words anymore.

i sat on the bathroom floor and cried until my stomach cramped. the kind of sobbing that makes you want to scream but you can’t because the baby’s asleep in the next room.

i just want someone to take care of me for once. sometimes i wonder if he’s still mine. i don’t want to think that. i feel sick for even writing it. but when the letters stopped coming, something inside me went quiet. and that silence has been growing.

maybe he’s just too busy. maybe he doesn’t know what to say. maybe something happened. or….. or… maybe he’s found someone who doesn’t look like she’s unraveling at the edges.. who is happier.. or prettier…. god, i hope not. but the fear lives here now. curled up next to me in bed, whispering things i try not to believe. but i still set his plate out at dinner. every night. just in case. i feel like a stupid woman gone insane, but i can’t help it.

i heard the door before i heard my name. the jingle of keys. the shuffle of boots. then…his voice.

“baby?”

i froze. hands still in the dishwater, heart leaping into my throat. i almost didn’t believe it. i didn’t move until i saw his silhouette in the kitchen doorway.

it was him. god, it was really him.

caleb.

my caleb.

i dropped the dish towel and ran. threw my arms around him so hard i thought we might both fall over. he caught me like he always used to—arms strong, steady, wrapped around me like armor. i sobbed into his neck, breathing in the scent of dust and metal and something familiar underneath it all.

“you’re home,” i whispered, voice cracking. “just for a few days,” he said.

i nodded against his chest, too busy memorizing his heartbeat to care about the details. our son stirred from the other room, like he could feel something had shifted. caleb looked toward the sound, then down at me.

his face didn’t match mine. i was all joy and disbelief. he was... something else. tired. distant. ready.

we sat on the couch later that evening. our son asleep in his arms, little fists balled up against caleb’s chest. it was one of those picture-perfect moments. one i would’ve killed for six months ago. then he cleared his throat.

“i pulled some strings,” he said, softly. i blinked. “what?”

it was quiet…. the quiet that i had experienced months and months ago…

“i... arranged something. the papers should be finalized by sunday.”

papers? 

it didn’t hit me all at once. it sort of hovered there between us, like fog creeping in through the cracks. then i saw it. the manila envelope on the coffee table…

divorce.

“you’re kidding,” i said, even though i already knew he wasn’t. he shook his head. didn’t look at me. just cradled our baby like he couldn’t look at both of us at once.

“caleb,” i said, and my voice cracked on his name like it didn’t want to come out. “you’re divorcing me? this weekend?” he nodded. still quiet. like being silent would make it softer.

i wanted to fucking vomit. to throw all his shit out of the house. to slap him. to break down. 

“after everything? after this?” i gestured toward the baby, toward the house, toward the life i’d been dragging uphill by myself for a year and a half. “you came home just to leave me?”

he finally met my eyes. and that’s when i saw it. he wasn’t just tired. he was already gone.

“you came home just to..... leave me?” my voice is barely a whisper now. he nods. again. silent. again….that’s what sets me off.

“no. no, fuck that, caleb – say something. don’t just sit there and nod like this is something we both agreed to. i have been waiting for you faithfully. i have been fighting for you. for us. i raised your son by myself, and you walk in here and hand me paperwork to fill out like im a fucking kid with homework?”

his jaw tightens, his eyes darken. he doesn’t look away this time. “don’t act like you didn’t know this was coming.” i blink. “what the hell is that supposed to mean?”

caleb sets our sleeping son down on the couch with careful, practiced hands– like a man who still remembers how to be gentle.. and.. and it breaks me even more. he rises slowly, rubbing the back of his neck, and for a second i see the tension brewing in his shoulders like a thunderstorm.

“i’m not stupid, okay?” he says finally. “i’ve seen the way you talk about zayne.” my stomach drops, “…what?”

“don’t play dumb,” he snaps, sharper than i’ve ever heard him. “it’s always zayne this, zayne that. you write him letters. you talk about how he helped you fix the fence. how he brings you groceries when it storms. how he’s always there. comforting you. you think i don’t see what that means?”

“zayne is our friend–”

“was,” caleb cuts in. “was my friend. now he’s just the guy you fell in love with while i was out in the sky getting shot at.”

i reel back like he slapped me. “you think i planned that? you think i wanted to fall apart while you were gone? do you know how lonely it’s been, caleb? how empty this house felt without you? i was holding on by threads, and zayne…he– he didn’t ask for anything. he didn’t touch me. he just showed up.”

caleb scoffs, shaking his head, pacing now. “yeah. of course he did. he’s always been waiting for the right moment, hasn’t he?” i feel my chest heaving. the hurt burning so hot it almost blisters from the fucking pain. “i never slept with him.”

“you didn’t have to,” caleb says quietly. “you gave him the part of you that used to be mine.”

silence. that’s the one that breaks me. my arms wrap around myself, more out of instinct than comfort. i feel naked. exposed. furious. broken. “so that’s it?” i ask. “you come home, accuse me of being in love with zayne, drop a divorce on my lap, and just go?” he doesn’t answer at first.

then: “ i pulled strings to make sure it wouldn’t drag. this way, you can move on.”

“i didn’t ask to move on.” – “but you already did,” he says, and it’s not angry anymore. it’s just tired. wrecked. resigned. “and i think i did too.”

i pause. he was like a bastard, repeatedly dropping weights on me. and every weight weighed more and more.

“did you?” he looks at me. and that’s when i know. he won’t say it. but i see it in his eyes. there’s someone else.  somewhere.  someone who’s not me.

“get out,” i whisper. “what?”

“i said get the fuck out.”

sunday.

caleb sits on the hard bench in the waiting area outside the clerk’s office, back straight, hands in his lap. the papers are in a folder on his lap– signed, dated, pre-reviewed. the military expedited the process, which he thought would make it easier. cleaner. quick in, quick out. no mess. a thin stack of papers that’s about to undo years of life built together. it’s strange how light it feels.

he thought it would feel heavier. the door opens, and he doesn’t need to look up to know it’s her. he does anyway. she looks tired. not just tired– worn. her hair is pulled back messily, like she barely remembered to brush it. her coat is rumpled, one sleeve slightly pushed up. there’s no lipstick, no perfume. her eyes are puffy, red at the edges. she looks like she’s been crying in the car. behind her, zayne lingers. not close enough to touch her. just there. quiet, like a shadow.

caleb’s jaw tenses. she meets his gaze, then looks away. “hi,” she says, voice hoarse. he stays silent, then: 

“hey.”

they don’t hug. don’t touch. they just move into the office when they’re called, sitting stiffly across from each other with a worn wooden desk between them. the clerk is polite. efficient. her voice is soft, like she’s handling something delicate.

caleb signs the papers first. his hand doesn’t shake. he doesn’t look at her.

she signs second. hers does. she presses a tissue to her nose halfway through and quietly whispers “sorry” when her tears blot the edge of the signature line.

he can’t help it– his eyes flick over to her. and for just a second, something inside him aches. not for the marriage. not for what they had. but for her, looking like this. alone. Undone.

he clears his throat. doesn’t say anything. when the clerk brings up custody, he answers before the question is finished.

“i’m not asking for it.”

her head snaps up. “what?” and without a beat missed, “you’re already raising him. you’ve been doing it without me for a year and a half.” he keeps his voice level, calm. “i won’t fight you on it. he should be with you.” she blinks, like she wasn’t expecting it. like maybe some part of her thought he would make this harder. she was unravelling by the second.

“i’ll pay support,” caleb adds. “whatever you need. that won’t stop.” she nods, silent, jaw tight. this was no longer a battle she could fight. he was hellbent, and he never usually was.

zayne hasn’t said a word this entire time. just sits near the corner of the room, arms crossed, gaze cast downward. caleb notices the way he glances over every now and then, eyes flicking toward her like he wants to step in, to say something, to help— but knows better. because if he did, he’d get knocked the hell out.

when it’s done, the clerk gives them copies and a muted “take care.” caleb tucks his into the folder and stands. no one moves to speak. “guess that’s it,” he says. she wipes at her eyes and doesn’t look up. “yeah.” caleb takes one look at her before he mumbles,

“take care, pipsqueak.”  that did it for her.

caleb turns toward the door. as he passes zayne, their eyes meet for a second. just a flicker. there’s no fight. no words. just quiet understanding between two men who both lost and gained something neither of them can name. as he walks out of the door, he could briefly hear the faint sobs of his now ex wife. steel your nerves. he’d say to himself.

outside, the sky is gray. the air is damp. caleb doesn’t bother pulling his coat tighter– he doesn’t feel the cold right now. when he gets to the car, he sits for a while. he doesn’t start the engine.

instead, he reaches into his coat pocket and pulls out the photo.

you.

the bartender girl, all red silk and soft smiles. frozen in time, untouched by war, by marriage, by regret. he holds it there in his hand.  and stares. and stares.

until something inside him starts to break loose and his chest pulls tight and he realizes…

he really did it.

it’s over. he can be with you like the way you deserve.

the station is louder than he remembered. or maybe he’s just quieter now. boots scuffing across the dirt, pilots calling out over static, the occasional mechanical clang from the hangar bay. it should feel like coming back to something familiar…. but it doesn’t.

caleb steps off the transport with his duffel over one shoulder and the same folder still tucked under his arm. the one with all the paperwork. he hasn’t let go of it yet. not really.

it doesn’t feel like closure. it just feels cold.

“look what the desert dragged back,” tom says, leaning against a stacked crate near the comms tent, squinting against the sun. “you look like a ghost.”

caleb lets a half-smile tug at the corner of his mouth. “feel like one too.” tom falls into step beside him, the kind of easy rhythm only forged through long nights and near-death moments. they head toward the barracks, letting the silence settle in like dust.

then, tom breaks it. voice casual, but not careless. “so uh… just so you know… i, uh… might’ve snooped.” caleb glances over, one brow raised. “your sack was open. when you left. didn’t mean to, but a photo was sticking out.”

caleb doesn’t react much. just keeps walking, a part of him smiles inside, chuckling almost. felt like two teenagers walking to class. “you see it?” he asks eventually.

“yeah. your wife. the baby. looked like a holiday card. kinda gut-punching, actually.” caleb’s quiet for a beat. then shrugs, slow and tired. “yeah, that’s whatever.” tom snorts, but there’s no humor in it. “doesn’t feel like ‘whatever.’ why keep it at all?if you were gonna go through with the divorce anyway.”

caleb stops walking. shifts the weight of his duffel, then lowers it onto the ground with a soft thud. his voice is quiet when he answers.

“i feel like a damn deadbeat.”

another pause. tom allows his friend to be soft. “he’s my kid, tom,” he says, voice rough. “he didn’t ask to be part of this mess. didn’t choose to be born to a father who didn’t know what the fuck he was doing.”

tom blinks. doesn’t say anything. just waits. caleb sits on the edge of his bunk, running a hand through his hair. “i wasn’t there when he was born. wasn’t there for his first steps. first words. i don’t know if he likes sweet potatoes or if he sleeps on his side like i do. i honestly don’t even know what eye color he has. since we got married i got pulled away to different missions, different countries... i missed everything.”

his voice gets quieter.

“and now i’ve made sure i’ll miss everything else.” tom exhales, cigarette burning slowly between his fingers. “you think that makes you a deadbeat?” — “what else does it make me?” caleb mutters. “some guy who left. who paid his way out.”

“you could’ve stayed.” caleb shakes his head, jaw tightening. “i didn’t love her, tom.”

that makes tom freeze. not because it’s shocking, but because it confirms what he’s suspected all along. “i married her because her grandmother backed me into a corner. old school– bloodlines, family name, all that shit. said if i didn’t marry her, i’d be ruining her future. ruining the baby’s. and i mean.. we’re childhood friends. man and woman who were stuck to the hip since we opened our damn eyes. what do you think would happen?”

tom leans against the frame of the bunk, arms crossed now, expression unreadable. “so you did the honorable thing.” “yeah,” caleb scoffs, bitter. “the honorable thing. and then resented it every day after.”

he rubs his hands over his face, voice muffled.

“i didn’t want to live like that. i didn’t want to live at all, for a while. war sounded cleaner than divorce. sounded easier. go out a hero, leave them a folded flag and a paycheck. maybe that would’ve been enough.”

“jesus fuckin’ christ, caleb.” — “i’m not proud of it.”

a long silence. then caleb reaches into his pocket. pulls out the polaroid. the other one.

the dock photo. holding you up, cheek to cheek.

tom glances at it, then back at caleb.

“her.”

“yeah.”

“you in love?”

caleb doesn’t answer right away. he turns the photo over in his hands like it might give him the words he doesn’t know how to say. “she made me feel like i wasn’t already dead,” he murmurs. “like there was still a version of me worth saving. even if it was just for a few hours.”

tom’s quiet, nodding slowly. “you ever gonna tell her about all this?” caleb shrugs.

“maybe..” a pause, “and what if she doesn’t want a man with this kind of wreckage?”

“then i’ll let her go,” caleb says, folding the photo back into his coat. “but i’d rather show her the wreckage than keep pretending it never happened.”

.

the sirens come fast.

no warning. no time to breathe. one second the base is still, the next it’s pure chaos—alarms screaming, boots slamming the ground, red lights flashing across hangar walls.

tom drops his cigarette and grinds it under his boot. “shit.” caleb doesn’t say a word. he’s already running.

the two of them sprint for the flight line, gear half-strapped, adrenaline thundering louder than the blaring horns. behind them, explosions crack through the sky. someone yells “incoming!” and the tarmac rattles under the weight of something falling from above.

enemy aircraft. sharp and fast.

caleb throws on his helmet, grabs the throttle, and thinks of you.

your laugh. your voice. your body tangled in his. that polaroid you gave him, tucked inside his flight suit.

you don’t know he’s up here. you don’t know he’s about to throw himself into the fire just to make sure there’s still a chance in hell he can see you again. he launches. followed by tom.

the sky’s already on fire– jets slicing through clouds, tracer rounds burning white-hot through the air. caleb banks left, tight and fast, heart hammering in his chest like it’s trying to rip through the suit. tom’s voice crackles in the comms. “got three bastards comin' in at 4 o’clock.”

“i see ’em.” he dives.

you flash behind his eyes again. your lipstick. your fingertips trailing down his neck. the way you looked at him like he wasn’t a soldier—like he was a man. a man you wanted. a man you trusted.

he can’t let this sky be the last place his name is spoken. “you better be waitin’ for me,” he mutters under his breath. “i swear to god, you better be.”

one enemy fighter locks on. missile warning blares. caleb twists, rolls under the fire, pressure slamming him into his seat. another pass. he clips the wing of the bastard on his tail– watches it spiral down in smoke and heat.

“two down,” he says, breath sharp. “how you holdin’ up?”

“still alive,” tom calls. “barely.”

caleb grits his teeth. turns hard into a climb, missile lock blinking red again. he pulls vertical, bleeding speed, letting the other jet overshoot him—and fires.

clean hit. the sky erupts again. you’re the only thing anchoring him now. not duty. not guilt. not even the kid he left behind. you.

you, waiting behind some bar, maybe still laughing with customers, maybe wearing red. maybe reading his letter and wondering if he means it.

he does. he means every goddamn word.

the final wave hits harder. three more fighters, slick and ruthless. caleb grits his teeth, pushes his jet harder. he’s burning fuel fast. sweat beads down the side of his face. “come on. come on.” he twists through a hail of gunfire, missiles clipping just behind him, smoke trailing in his wake. he feels the vibration in his bones.

you are the reason he’s still moving. still breathing. still alive. he’s not fighting for survival. he’s fighting to see your face again.

and if he makes it through this—

he’s going to find you. and tell you everything.

totally did not get emotional writing this.

𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ! - @leannathespacewerewolf , @rcvcgers, @sanzy4, @flwerie, @mcdepressed290, @genshingeeksworld, @rena-library, @petitepacifist, @kaemaybae,

[jhyoos]

Off Limits

chapter two : maybe this time

soccer player vi x talis reader

mentions: player vi, besti ekko, romance, lesbianism, modern au, college au, drama, abby tou, ellie tlou, (they’re coming i promise) cheerleader reader, mention of sex, pierced reader, caitlyn being a bitch

notes: grab some snacks yall

<- previous chapter | next chapter ->

The next morning, as you stood in front of your mirror getting ready, you ignored Jayce completely. He had tried apologizing more times than you could count—knocking on your door, lingering outside your room, calling your name softly—but you refused to acknowledge him. Even when he sighed in frustration, muttering something under his breath as he walked away, you didn’t budge.

Once dressed, you headed downstairs, the scent of warm butter and sizzling eggs greeting you as you stepped into the kitchen. Your mom stood at the stove, her hair still slightly damp from a shower, humming softly as she flipped pancakes. You hadn’t seen her in a while—she had been away on a business trip in L.A., and part of you had missed her presence.

She turned to you with a warm smile as you sat at the island, watching her cook.

“How was your first day of school, mi corazón?” she asked, carefully plating food.

“It was good, Mom,” you replied, picking at your nails absentmindedly.

She gave you a knowing look. “Did you make any new friends?”

You shrugged. “Mmm, not really,” you admitted. “I did see Ekko, though. And his little girlfriend, Jinx. She’s really sweet and pretty.”

Your mom’s smile widened. “I’m glad you’re putting yourself out there.” She placed a plate in front of you, the smell of eggs and toast making your stomach grumble. “What about that cheer tryout video? Did you get accepted?”

You sighed, stabbing at a piece of scrambled egg with your fork. “Don’t know yet. They haven’t said anything.”

She reached over and squeezed your hand. “You’ll get it. I believe in you.” She pressed a quick kiss to your cheek before stepping back and grabbing a set of keys from the drawer. She placed them on the counter in front of you.

“The car’s parked outside, right in front. It’s new,” she said. “Just don’t forget to wash the dishes before you leave.”

You nodded, still chewing your food.

She gave you one last smile. “Have a good day, sweetheart.” Then, with the jingle of keys and the soft click of the door, she was gone.

Just as you were finishing your breakfast, Jayce came downstairs, already dressed with his backpack slung over his shoulder. He barely spared you a glance as he headed for the door.

“If you’re coming with me, let’s go,” he announced flatly.

You didn’t reply, only reached over and jingled the car keys your mom had left for you. He rolled his eyes before walking out of the apartment without another word.

Once you were done eating, you cleaned up the dishes like your mom had asked, grabbed your bag, and made your way to campus.

The day had been going surprisingly well. Classes were straightforward, and during your break, you decided to head to the library, taking advantage of the quiet space to get ahead on your studies. You sat at a desk tucked in the corner, your laptop open, completely focused on the screen as you typed out notes.

You barely noticed when someone sat down across from you. Assuming it was just another student there to study, you ignored them. That was until your laptop was abruptly shut, you moved your hands away just in time.

Your gaze snapped up, and there she was—Vi, leaning forward with her elbows on the table, an unreadable expression on her face.

Before you could even react, she spoke first. “Where did you go after the party? I was looking for you.”

You let out a short, humorless laugh. “Liar,” you scoffed. “You were too busy exchanging saliva with some other girl.” You leaned back in your seat, crossing your arms. “And on top of that, you didn’t even do the one thing you said you would—distract Jayce. He caught me.”

Vi sighed, shaking her head. “That’s why you haven’t been answering my texts?” She tilted her head, smirking. “Did you actually think this was something?” She let out a short chuckle. “I just wanted a good fuck, baby.”

Your jaw clenched. “I know this might sound surprising, but so did I.” You leaned in slightly, lowering your voice. “But it’s kinda a turn off when the girl you show up with is kissing someone else before the night’s even over.”

Vi’s smirk faltered slightly, but you didn’t give her a chance to respond. Instead, you reopened your laptop, the screen blocking her from your view.

“Have a good fucking day, Violet,” you muttered before refocusing on your work.

Vi hesitated for a moment, as if considering saying something else, but then you heard her scoff softly before standing up and walking away.

After your last class, you made your way home, already hearing the pounding bass of loud music as you approached the door. You sighed, knowing it was most likely Jayce and his friends, which meant the apartment was about to be a chaotic mess.

With your bag slung over your shoulder, you flipped through the mail in your hands, tossing most of it onto the small table by the door like you always did. But one envelope caught your eye—the school’s logo printed neatly in the corner. Your breath hitched as you flipped it over, fingers tightening around the edges.

This was it. The results from your cheer tryout.

Cheer had been your passion since middle school, something you threw yourself into completely—until your senior year, when your dad died. You knew you couldn’t keep up with the demanding schedule, so you let it go. But after moving back home, your mom had encouraged you to give it another shot, and you did. You needed something to keep yourself busy, something to feel like you again.

You walked into the living room, distracted as you worked to tear the envelope open. Your bag slid off your shoulder, landing in its usual spot beneath the coffee table. Just as you finally got the letter free, something small and crunchy smacked you right in the forehead.

“The hell?” you muttered, glancing up.

“You’re blocking the TV, dude,” Jayce said flatly, a controller in his hand.

You rolled your eyes but froze when you noticed who was sitting beside him. Vi.

Your stomach twisted as you quickly took in the rest of his friend group—mostly butches and one twink. You looked back at Jayce before stepping aside, muttering under your breath as you finally unfolded the letter.

“Don’t you guys have better shit to do? Like study or—” Your voice cut off abruptly.

Your eyes scanned over the words again just to make sure you weren’t imagining things.

Congratulations, you have been selected as a member of the Arcane Lions Cheer Team.

Your hands trembled slightly as the realization settled in.

“Jayce, read this,” you said, shoving the letter toward him.

He paused the game, ignoring Vi’s groan of protest, and took the paper from you, standing up. His eyes darted across the page, and soon, a wide grin spread across his face.

“Congrats, sis. You’re a Lion,” he said, clapping you on the back.

You smirked. “I’ve been a Lion, dumbass. But thanks.”

Snatching the paper back, you pulled out your phone. “I’m gonna take a pic and send it to Mom.”

Jayce held onto the letter for just a second longer, teasing you before finally letting it go.

From the couch, Vi leaned back, stretching her arms over her head as she smirked. “Guess that means I’ll be seeing you at all the functions,” she teased. “Thank god cheerleaders don’t cheer for the soccer team.”

You scoffed. “I don’t wanna be around you.”

With that, you turned on your heel and headed straight upstairs, ignoring the way Vi’s smirk faltered just slightly as you disappeared down the hall, over hearing their conversation.

“Damn Vi i never seen you fumble so hard”

“I taught my sister well.”

Your first day of cheer practice was absolute hell.

The sun beat down mercilessly as you and the rest of the squad ran suicides up and down the football stadium bleachers. Your legs burned, your lungs screamed, and the insane body workouts that followed only made things worse. Every squat, push-up, and burpee felt like a personal attack. But the real kicker? The person barking orders at you all, making sure you pushed past your limits, was her.

The blue-haired girl from the bonfire. The one Vi had kissed.

And, of course, she just had to be the cheer captain.

You clenched your jaw and kept your head down, forcing yourself through every miserable rep. You weren’t about to let Caitlyn see you struggle. She was already making you work twice as hard as the others, calling you out whenever your form faltered, ensuring you knew exactly who was in charge.

By the time practice finally ended, you felt like you had been hit by a truck. You wiped sweat from your brow, chugging water like it was the only thing keeping you alive. Just when you thought you were free to leave, the team was ushered into the locker room to get measured for uniforms.

You were exhausted, body sore, and the last thing you wanted was to stand around half-dressed while someone took your measurements. But you endured it, standing in line as tape measures wrapped around your waist, bust, and hips, trying not to think about how much you hated being scrutinized like this.

Just as you were about to grab your bag and head out, Caitlyn stepped in front of you, blocking your path.

“You’re Jayce Talis’ little sister, right?” she asked, her piercing blue eyes locked onto yours.

You forced a polite, fake smile and nodded. “Yep. That’s me.”

Her gaze flickered over you, eyes dragging from your face down to your torso like she was assessing your worth. “I expect the best out of you since you’re the sibling of a top athlete here.”

Before you could respond, she reached out and grabbed the waistband of your shorts, tugging them slightly to peek inside.

Your body tensed, a flash of discomfort shooting up your spine.

“You’re gonna have to take that belly ring out during games,” Caitlyn remarked, her tone casual, like she wasn’t just invading your space. Then, she tilted her head, smirking. “What else do you have pierced?”

You hesitated for a second, shifting uncomfortably before mumbling, “Um… my nipples.”

Caitlyn hummed. “Figures.” She finally let go of your shorts, stepping back. The movement of the shorts snapping back onto your body hit your belly ring which made you hiss from the sudden pain. “Nothing some boob tape won’t hide, I guess.”

You exhaled, hoping that was the end of it, but then she leaned in slightly, her voice dropping just enough for only you to hear.

“Oh, and I’ve heard about you… from Vi,” she said, her smile saccharine but her eyes sharp. “Stay away from her, or I’ll make your experience here a living hell. Okay?”

She patted your shoulder mockingly before turning on her heel and walking away like she hadn’t just threatened you with a sweet smile on her face.

You stood there for a moment, fists clenched at your sides.

What the fuck had you just gotten yourself into?

The warm water had washed away the grime of practice, but not the lingering frustration in your chest. Your muscles ached from the brutal workout Caitlyn had put you through, and the last thing you wanted was to deal with any more bullshit.

You stepped out of the shower, grabbing one of the towels provided and wrapping it around yourself. The locker room was mostly empty now, just the faint sound of water dripping from the showerheads and the hum of fluorescent lights overhead. You dried yourself off quickly, rubbing the towel over your arms and legs before slipping on your underwear.

As you reached behind your back, struggling to clasp your bra, the locker room door swung open. The sound of laughter and footsteps echoed off the tiled walls.

You glanced up in the mirror.

Vi.

And, of course, she wasn’t alone. A handful of girls from the soccer team trailed in behind her, still riding the high of their practice. They were loud, chatting and joking amongst themselves, but Vi’s attention was locked onto you.

Her gaze swept over you in an obvious once-over, a slow smirk pulling at her lips.

“Damn, Talis,” she drawled, leaning against a row of lockers, arms crossed over her chest. “You got a nice body.”

You rolled your eyes, biting back the urge to snap at her. Instead, you focused on finally securing the stupid clasp of your bra, your fingers fumbling slightly in irritation.

Vi didn’t seem to care that you were ignoring her. If anything, it just encouraged her.

She tilted her head, eyes lingering a little too long. “Is that a belly ring?” Her smirk widened. “That’s hot.”

You exhaled sharply through your nose, grabbing your sweatpants and stepping into them.

“Vi, I don’t have time for you and your bullshit,” you muttered, pulling them up your legs and tightening the drawstring.

Vi just chuckled, like your attitude amused her. Like you weren’t still pissed off at her from the bonfire.

You refused to let her get under your skin. You refused to let her think she could flirt her way back into your good graces.

Not this time.

Vi stepped closer, her presence looming just as you pulled your cropped black shirt over your head, the fabric hugging your body snugly. The heat of her proximity made your skin prickle, but you kept your focus on adjusting your sleeves, refusing to give her the reaction she wanted.

“What are you doing later tonight?” Vi asked, her voice smooth, almost casual, like she hadn’t just put you through hell the past 24 hours.

“Homework,” you replied flatly, slinging your gym bag over your shoulder.

Vi didn’t take the hint. “How about I see you tonight?” she offered, her tone dropping into something more suggestive. “Your brother isn’t gonna be home, which is perfect.”

You finally turned to her, eyes narrowing in disgust. Did she really think she could just waltz in here and pretend like nothing had happened?

You scoffed. “Why don’t you ask your little girlfriend that was threatening me this morning?” you said, tilting your head. “You know, the blue-haired girl… cheer captain?”

Vi shrugged, that cocky smirk still plastered on her face. Like none of this mattered. Like you were just another game to her.

That was it.

You stepped closer, meeting her gaze with unwavering intensity. “Let’s get one thing straight, Vi, okay?” you said, voice cold. “I’m not your little plaything. I don’t have low standards for someone like you.”

Her smirk twitched, but she stayed silent.

“You kissed another girl while you were with me—God knows what else you did—and you expect me to run into your arms?” You let out a sharp, humorless laugh. “Get the fuck over yourself and get your head out of your ass. I don’t want you. So stop bothering me.”

Before she could respond, you turned on your heel and stormed out of the locker room, leaving her standing there, speechless for once.

After finishing your classes for the day, you made a quick stop at Dutch Bros, treating yourself to an iced coffee before heading home. The caffeine was much needed after the grueling cheer practice and the long lectures.

When you stepped into the apartment, the smell of food immediately hit you. Jayce was in the kitchen, standing by the counter, focused on making himself a sandwich. His broad frame blocked most of the counter, but you could see the neatly stacked ingredients—deli meat, cheese, lettuce—laid out beside him.

“Oooh, make me one, please,” you asked, setting your drink down on the island.

Jayce glanced up at you briefly before nodding. “Yeah, sure.”

A grin tugged at your lips. “Thank you, housewife.”

Jayce rolled his eyes but didn’t say anything, just continued assembling your sandwich like the “good” big brother he was.

As you leaned against the counter, sipping your coffee, he spoke up. “Are you gonna come to the soccer game tonight?”

You sighed, already knowing there was no escaping it. “Yeah. I have no choice—Jinx is driving.”

Jayce chuckled, shaking his head. “Yeah, she’s just like her sister. She doesn’t let up.”

That caught your attention. You furrowed your brows, setting your coffee down. “Who’s her sister?”

“Vi,” Jayce answered plainly, as if it were common knowledge.

Your eyebrow shot up instinctively. You let that piece of information sink in for a moment before scoffing. “Honestly… not even surprised.”

Jayce smirked as he slid the plate with your sandwich across the counter.

Then, after a pause, he hesitated before speaking. “Are you still mad at me about the party?”

“Yes,” you said without hesitation.

He exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck. “Then go ahead and lash out on me.”

You set your sandwich down and stared at him, your jaw tightening. “If you yell at me and degrade me the way you did at the party, I will cut your dick off and shove it so far up your ass you’ll be coughing it up,” you said, voice calm but laced with venom.

Jayce winced but didn’t interrupt.

“You know how I feel about people accusing me of relapsing,” you continued, your grip on the plate tightening. “And I especially hate it when you or Mom do it. A stupid Cayman Jack isn’t gonna make me relapse. I’m not that fucking weak.”

Jayce sighed, his expression shifting to guilt. “Right. I apologize.”

You exhaled slowly, picking your sandwich back up. “You’re forgiven.”

Jayce glanced at his phone, checking the time before grabbing his sandwich. “I gotta go—meeting with the coach before the game,” he said, taking one last bite before leaning down to kiss your cheek.

You hummed in acknowledgment, still focused on your food as he made his way to the door.

Just as he pulled it open, he nearly ran into Jinx, who had her hand raised as if she were about to knock. The two of them froze, staring at each other in mutual awkwardness before Jayce finally stepped aside, allowing her in. Without another word, he closed the door behind her and left.

Jinx turned toward you with a playful grin. “Hello, (Y/N),” she greeted, plopping onto the stool beside you.

You glanced at her, swallowing the last bite you took before returning the smile. “Why are you here so early?”

“I wanted to get food first, but clearly you have that figured out,” Jinx teased, eyeing your sandwich.

Your chewing slowed as you glanced down at your plate, suddenly feeling a little self-conscious about eating in front of her. You placed the sandwich down with exaggerated slowness, making her snicker.

“I’m still hungry, though,” you admitted. “Let me change, and then we can go.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Jinx said with a mock salute, watching as you rolled your eyes and dashed up the stairs.

The game started, and within minutes, you understood why the entire school had shown up. Your team wasn’t just good—they were insanely talented. Jayce commanded the field with pinpoint passes, Ekko’s footwork and kicks were pure finesse, and Vi? She was everywhere. Aggressive, quick, and completely in control, she weaved through the opposing team like she was made for this. Together, the three of them were an unstoppable force, dominating the game like a well-oiled machine.

You and Jinx cheered every time they scored, and the entire bleacher section erupted with each goal. The energy was electric, and even though you weren’t exactly a sports fan, you couldn’t deny how exciting it was to watch them play.

When the game ended in an easy victory, the stands emptied out, but the buzz didn’t die. Whispers spread quickly—there was a party tonight. Caitlyn Kiramman’s house.

Jinx nudged you with her elbow. “You coming?”

You scoffed. “Absolutely not. But you should go—with Ekko.”

She rolled her eyes, but you didn’t miss the way her lips curled into a barely-there smile.

As the two of you waited near the locker room gate, the team finally emerged, still high off their win. Ekko spotted Jinx immediately and wasted no time slinging an arm around her, pulling her into a hug. You couldn’t help but smile as you watched them.

But before you could comment, a weight settled around your shoulders. You stiffened, turning your head to find Vi standing there, her arm lazily draped around you like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Your jaw tightened. “Was me telling you off in that locker room not enough?”

Vi gave you an easy grin. “We can’t be friends?”

You sighed, rolling your eyes. “Fine.” You let her arm stay there—until her hand drifted lower, groping your chest.

You scoffed, shoving her off. “What the fuck?!”

Vi held up her hands in mock innocence, her smirk unrepentant. “I had to. They were sitting so perfectly.”

Your glare could’ve set her on fire. “Touch me again, and I’ll kill you.”

Vi only laughed, grabbing your pointing finger and giving it a playful squeeze. “Walk with me. Please.”

You stared at her for a long moment before exhaling sharply. “…Fine.”

She wasted no time grabbing your hand, leading you away from the crowd toward a more secluded spot behind the bleachers.

“I wanna try again,” she said once you were alone.

You narrowed your eyes. “Try what again?”

“Taking you out.”

You snorted. “Be for real.”

“I am serious,” Vi insisted. “We can try again at the pool party tonight.”

You blinked at her. “Caitlyn Kiramman’s house? The cheer captain? You want me dead, don’t you?”

“I talked to Caitlyn,” Vi said smoothly. “Told her we aren’t gonna see each other anymore. She’s cool with it. And…I told her to leave you alone.”

You eyed her skeptically. “And I’m just supposed to believe that?”

Vi shrugged. “Believe what you want. But I handled it.”

You sighed, crossing your arms. “…What about Jayce?”

“He’ll be too busy with Mel,” she said easily. “They’ve got a date tonight. He said he’s ‘gonna get lucky’ or whatever, so he’s definitely not gonna be there.”

You hesitated, mulling it over. “…Alright. But I swear to God, Vi, if you embarrass me, I will never let you live it down.”

“Fine,I promise,” she said with a chuckle. Then, before you could react, she leaned in and pressed a quick kiss to your cheek.

You barely had time to process the warmth before she pulled away, grinning. “I’ll pick you up at 8. Have a swimsuit on.”

And with that, she walked off, leaving you standing there—flustered and way more interested in this party than you’d ever planned to be.

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[jinxfixeseverything]

20/26 Bilgewater (Chapter 20)

Notes and disclaimers: Story is JINX/FEMALE READER. Most chapters contain SMUT and or FLUFF, there is LIGHT ANGST in a few.

Important notes: Reader refers to Jinx often as Pj, for a term of endearment and rare but occasional reference to Jinx as Powder, by the people closest to her, as this is set after her redemption arc she does not mind it used in context!! But still prefers and continues to go by Jinx. She is mainly referred to as Jinx in the story and by the characters in it, don’t worry! Jinx is canonically bisexual in this story. I do not own any of these characters, I just play with them. 

Warning: Story will contain VERY graphic depictions of WLW, main coupling will consist of two switches to keep everyone happy. I’ll shut up now and I really hope you enjoy!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You woke late morning to a tinkling sound. Stretching, you check next to you reaching out a hand and Jinx is not in the bed. Leaning up you look across the room to the small stove in the corner. Jinx is standing naked, her hair loose around her shoulders, stirring two cups of hot beverage. The room smelt like rose. You watch her a moment, drinking in the sight of her before you speak. 

“Hey, Gorgeous.” You call to her. 

“Hi, Sleepy Head.” She replies with a smile, bringing the cups over and sitting on the bed. She hands you one. 

“Thanks, Sweetheart. How are you up before me?” You ask before sipping. 

“Because I have more stamina than you, Angel.” She says condescendingly, patting the blanket your leg was under. 

“Oh sure, Pillow Princess.” You scoff. 

“Fuck off.” She laughs. “You’re depraved, the shit you did to me last night.” she says, craning her neck to look at the bruises on her shoulders, then leaning forward she kisses you, a sexy lopsided grin across her mouth. 

“But did you cum? Didn’t hear you complaining.” You reply, sipping from the warm cup again. 

“Shut up.” Jinx tells you, poking your rib, making you jerk away. 

You chuckle and say “Now thinking about last night might make me want to leave Bilgewater early, fucking you in the...” 

Jinx giggles her eyes widening and she kisses you to silence the rest of the sentence, almost embarrassed to hear you say it out loud in the cold light of day. She pulls back, tucking one side of her hair behind her ear. “So now you’ve put that card on the table. I’m so doing it to you. Fair’s fair.” She states. 

“For a special occasion. Maybe on your name day, if you behave. You can be king of my ass for as long as you like.” You joke. 

She laughs, then the smile slowly fades, “Can’t believe we’ve only got one more today together before you leave.” She said sadly. 

“So, drink up and come snuggle.” You tell her, patting the bed next to you. 

The rest of the day was spent like that. Snuggling and kissing, which turned to sex, nothing like last night, things got crazy. True to your word you fucked her all night and were rough with her like she wanted, into the early hours of the morning. Jinx gave as good as she got. It had been a wild night. But today you were gentle with each other, whispering promises and caressing each other’s naked bodies with tenderness. Kissing passionately, switching between fast and slow, you couldn’t get enough of each other. You both knew two weeks apart was gonna feel like a life time, so you wanted to make the most of it. 

Laying on her, between kisses Jinx tells you. “I’m gonna miss you so much.” 

You continue to kiss her in one long slow kiss, cupping her cheek and not letting go. You regretfully pull back and tell her. 

“I’ll miss you like crazy, Beautiful.” You tell her earnestly, leaning down to kiss her again. 

                        ~~~~~~~~

Next afternoon came too quickly. Standing at the harbour, a dark green duffle sack over your shoulder. Caitlyn, Vi, Ekko, Scar and of course Jinx all come to see you off. 

Cait hands you a box of fancy tea. Which you stuff into the duffle, dropping it down on the floor. You hug her, thanking her. Vi fist bumps you, then draws you in for a long, protective hug. Ekko hugs you, patting your back, as does Scar giving you a friendly, light punch on the shoulder. You turn to Jinx, standing further away than the others, her arms folded, looking pensive and shuffling her feet around. 

You walk to her holding your arms out. She lets you wrap your arms around her, not hugging you back at first, then lowers her arms, gripping on to the bottom of your shirt. 

You kiss her cheek. “You won’t even know I’m gone. You’re gonna be having so much fun with the others.” You say looking back at them for some back up. They all watch you both silently. 

“Right, guys?” You say encouragingly, giving them aggressive eye contact. 

“Yeah, sure, absolutely.” Everyone answers, Jinx says nothing. 

“See, time will fly by. And when I’m back you’ll wish you had the place back to yourself again.” You joke, trying to lift her spirits. 

She wraps her arms around your waist, a genuine pout on her face. “Stay away from the big titted tavern wenches, or I’ll find you both.” Jinx said, it was only half a joke. 

The group laughs. 

“Why would a look at big titted wenches, when I have a perfect, small titted wench at home?” You joke. 

“I’m walking off now.” Vi said, taking a few steps away to leave the harbour.

“Shit, sorry Vi.” You call to her.

You hugged them all goodbye again. Leaving Jinx ‘til last. The others walk off to let you say goodbye in private. 

“Remember the first time we were at the Firelights, I told you I made you something?” Jinx reminds you. 

“Oh yeah, I forgot about that.” You reply.

“Here.” Jinx says pulling a bracelet from her pocket, it was blue rope, the colour of her hair and had a little metal pendant on it. Your first initial and hers inside a heart.

“You made this? Aww, Babe, it’s beautiful. Thank you, Sweetheart, I love it.” You say with excitement as she ties it to you. “I’ll never take it off.” You tell her, pecking her lips and grinning. 

She pulls another from her pocket, the rope on this one is the colour of your hair, with the same pendant. But the initials reversed. “Put it on me?” She asks. You tie it to her wrist. “That’s bringing back memories.” She joked half heartedly. You chuckle. 

“Well in two weeks, we can make some new memories.” You lean towards her ear, hugging her. “You can tie me up next time.” You tease, hoping to make her laugh. You feel a slight laugh huff from her. 

You hug her tight one last time and kiss her deeply for a few moments before turning sadly to pick up the duffle. You stroke her cheek, smiling at her and walk toward your ship. Sonny is waiting for you to let you on. You look back over your shoulder at Jinx, smiling brightly at her, feeling an ache of missing her already but not wanting to let on. You hope it doesn’t look too fake, then wave. “Sonny! Hey, Buddy!” You greet him. He nods saying nothing and takes the duffle from you.

After the initial hustle and bustle of boarding. You stand port side waiting to set sail. The ship starts to move and you wave at your friends and your girlfriend. They are all waving back, expect for Jinx. Cait is using a white handkerchief to wave you off. Vi has an arm around Jinx and Jinx rests her head on Vi’s shoulder. It’s only two weeks, this is fine. How bad can it be…

                                       ~~~~~~~~~~~

The first few days at Bilgewater were tough work, once you docked the whole city was built of wrecked ships. You stood in awe of the shear size of the place. Though you were well traveled, Bilgewater was somewhere you’d never been before, though heard it was the land of fortune. The natives were cutthroat and Sonny had warned you to keep your head down and not venture out alone at night. 

Sonny helped you get settled in. You had a bunk at a tavern. The jobs were mainly lugging crates and moving barrels. Nothing you weren’t cut out for but the hours were long and gruelling. Though the pay was handsome. The first night you crashed out like a log. The town was dingy, smelt like fish and eroding wood, salt air made everything wet and slippery. The rats were no myth, just like Vi had heard, large and flesh eating, but you handled yourself. 

The second day there you stood somewhere you shouldn’t have without paying attention. You almost got crushed, lesson learned, although you earned yourself a nice scar out of it. 

The third day there, you sat down to write home to Jinx. Rolling your shoulder, the muscles in your arms aching. Just then Sonny came in carrying a crumpled envelope for you. You knew the handwriting instantly. Your heart skipped a beat knowing it was from Jinx. 

You open it, there’s a letter inside telling you how everyone is doing, how bored she is, how much she misses you already and how you need to make all the time apart up to her when you get back. She then details very explicitly and very graphically exactly what she needs you to do to start making it up. You feel your neck flush with heat. Maybe you should read that later, in your bunk. You flip the letter and something falls, it’s a photo of Jinx. Picking it up to look. She’s topless, on her knees in her skimpy black panties, taking the photo of herself, she’s winking at the camera, smiling with her tongue out and sticking her middle finger up. You laugh, that’s your girl. Then look down at her body, feeling a familiar burn in your core. 

You push the photo under your wrap, not wanting to lose it or leave it for any schmo to find. 

                       ~~~~~~~~

Back at Piltover, Jinx walks into the study, a bag under the arm. Cait is working in the archives, Vi is sitting in her enforcers uniform, relaxing from having just got home from work. She’s startled to see Jinx in the doorway. 

“Jinx? What’s wrong?” She asked sitting up, looking at her sister with concern. 

“Can I stay here for awhile?” She asks. “The arcade is too quiet and I got too much time to think when I get home from work now.”

“Of course you can, Pow Pow.” Vi says standing to walk with Jinx to her room. She wraps a comforting arm around her little sister. 

The same evening Cait and Vi are sitting down to dinner. Jinx isn’t present. “I’ll go find her.” Vi says, leaving the table. 

“Thought I’d find you up here.” Vi said to Jinx, walking to her sister, sitting on the roof of the Kiramman’s. 

“Hey.” Jinx says solemnly. 

Vi sits down beside her sister. “What’s on your mind?” She asks. 

“Just thinking.” Jinx replies, her tone lost in thought. 

“Don’t think too hard. It’s dangerous.” Vi joked, bumping a shoulder to her sisters.

Jinx asks “You don’t think she’ll…”

“No. I don’t.” Vi says bluntly, cutting her off. “Whatever stupid sentence you’re gonna say next. Anyone can see she how she feels about you, Jinx. So don’t start over thinking that she won’t come back or she’ll cheat on you, or any other crazy scenarios you’ve got going on in there. Ok?” Vi tells her adamantly. 

Jinx smiles lightly, still not fully able to shake the insecurities from her head.

                ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

That evening back in Bilgewater. Sonny gets up from the table to grab you both another round of drinks. You were already drunk an entire beer ago, but Sonny insisted on another round. As soon as he leaves, an ample blossomed woman sits next to you, placing a hand on your thigh. 

“Hi, Missy.” She says in a seductive voice. “I’ve seen you around in here before. I’m Layla, I work over at the bar.” She continued, leaning towards you, pressing her boobs against your arm. “What’s say you and me have a little fun tonight?” She continued. Running her hand up along the inside of your thigh and squeezing. 

“Ho!” You exclaim, standing. “I’m married, Ma’am!” You tell her wobbling on your feet from standing so quickly. 

“But your wife ain’t here is she?” She says smiling flirtatiously, trying to pull you back down to your seat again. 

“Nope, Madam, shes is not.” You slur. “But she be’s here.” You say poking your heart. Then tapping the side of your head and trying to wink, but blinking awkwardly at her a few times, the alcohol making you forget how to do it. “Good day to you, Lady.” You say, walking around her, stumbling up the stairs towards your room in the tavern.

”Need some help?” Layla inquires giggling and standing.

“Sit, stay.” You command her authoritatively. Pointing at her as you stand and stumble up the stairs again. Once you reach your room you fall asleep face down on the bed with your clothes on. 

The days went by the same, your coin purse was filling up nicely. You’d accumulated three now and it had only been a week. You and Jinx wrote back and forth every couple of days. 

She was staying at Vi and Cait’s, she felt too lonely at her place without you and was going stir crazy, but it was closer to work. She also made sure to send a threat for any women or men that tried to ‘knock boots’ with you as she eloquently put it. 

You thanked her for the photo and told her it came in useful on the lonely nights and that you missed her beyond words. You’d detail how you want to hold her close and kiss each freckle along her nose. How you want to trace every one of her tattoos with your fingers. How you missed the sound of her voice, the way she absentmindedly hummed to herself and how much you missed her making you laugh each day. You pined for her soft lips and pretty eyes, that not even all the gems in Bligewater gleamed a beautifully as the mischievous twinkle they possessed. It was kind of fun and corny writing the ‘love letters’ back and forth. It kept you going when you felt like you were running out of steam. You let her know exactly how much you’d made this far and hoped she’d be impressed.

                     ~~~~~~~~~~~~

Each letter Jinx received from you sent a spiral of emotions, elation, then despair, then she’d tear up. She even went back to the arcade one night when she felt super insecure and began throwing things around. Imagining you dancing with other girls in the tavern, your hands on them, them sitting in your lap, then you smile as she leans towards your lips to… Jinx pumped endless rounds into the shooting range, screaming until her throat was sore. She dropped to her knees, sobbing. 

After some time Jinx miserably sent herself upstairs to cry on the bed, her heart aching from missing you so much. Her mind spun from made up scenario to scenario of you finding something or someone better. It was driving her crazy not knowing what you were doing. Flopping on to the sheets still smelling of you, it oddly comforted her. She slowly calmed herself down. Self smoothing with the logic, if you were gonna take off, you’d have done it by now and why would you send her such sweet letters back all this time? She looked down at the matching bracelet on her wrist. Jinx pulled your last letter from her pocket and read it again, but this time let herself believe it with her whole heart. She smiled to herself at all the cheesy, sweet things you said about missing her, wiping a tear from her eye before it fell. How did she get so lucky with you? You were hers. You were doing this for her. She decided she’d stay at the arcade tonight. Just to feel closer to you. Then head back to Vi’s for the rest of the final week. She made a plan to throw herself into her work and keep busy with Vi and Cait until you were home. Maybe even hang out at the Firelights with Scar and Ekko for a couple of days. That could be fun. 

Jinx undressed and took out her braids. She drew herself a bubble bath, playing Mako. Once in the bath she began thinking of the fun she had with you walking through Piltover and the beach that day, then the concert you surprised her with… and the fun you both had when you got home. She felt her cheeks flush at the thought of all the lewd things you did to her all that night.

Placing her hand between her legs she rubbed herself remembering all the dirty things you’d said to her. She bit her lip as she pleasured herself but refused to make herself cum. She would wait until you were home for that. 

Getting too hot and bothered she decided she better get out. She towelled off and grabbed one of your t shirts to wear to bed. Hugging the pillow next to her pretending it was you. Everything was gonna be ok, she told herself, she just had to get through one more week. Then you’d be home. And when you were she’d tell you how she felt about you, her heart fluttered nervously, thinking how to put it into words, until she drifted off to sleep dreaming sweetly of you. 

                     ~~~~~~~~~~

After the your two weeks were up in Bilgewater, with relief you packed up. You’d made it. You’d earned enough coins to last for quite a while and you were set to stay in Zaun pretty comfortably for a long while. You’d written Jinx to tell her you were soon to be on your way home. What time you were docking, where and how you can’t wait to see her, missing her was your own private hell. 

You waited anxiously on the top deck as Piltover’s Wharfside Docks, came into view. A small hazy speck in the distance. 

Jinx, Caitlyn and Vi all stood at the harbour waiting for you. Jinx paced, feeling sick with excitement and anxiety. 

“Jinx, calm down.” Cait chuckled. 

“I am calm! Look how calm I am.” Jinx snapped. 

“Clearly.” Vi said sarcastically. “She’ll be here.”

As the ship starts coming into view. Jinx climbs a couple of runs of the wooden barrier. 

The view of Piltover starts to become bigger, shapes of buildings now visible. The Docks now standing out. Sonny chuckles to himself, handing you a telescope. Pointing out an area for you to see. As you look through the telescope in the direction Sonny pointed, you see Jinx standing up on the barrier, waving her arms. Her hair is loose, caught by the sea breeze and she’s wearing a baggy black vest, partly tucked into some tight, cut off navy blue shorts. 

“Piltie.” You call her to yourself, chuckling.

As the boat docks you see them all, Cait is waving with both arms to get your attention. Vi is holding a large board with your name on it that says ‘Welcome Home’ in Jinx’s writing.  Jinx comes running up the dock, her boots making an obnoxious thumping sound. You jump the barrier, leaving everything behind, running as fast as you can towards her. She jumps into your arms, swinging her legs around your hips. You catch her and hold her tight to you, spinning you both around 360 with the force. 

“Don’t ever do that again.” She says holding you as if you returned from the dead. Her face is wet with tears of relief. 

“I won’t, I won’t.” You promise her. 

“I’ve missed you so much!” Jinx says kissing all over your face. 

“I’ve missed you so much, Baby. I love you.” You blurt out before she captures your lips in a long, deep kiss.

When Jinx pulls back she starts kissing your face all over. “I love you, I love you, I love you.” She says, it was easier than she thought it would be and now she couldn’t stop saying it. 

You grin and pull her in for another kiss. As you stand kissing on the dock, Jinx’s body wrapped around you. As other passengers awkwardly try to shuffle past you both, trying to leave the Docks. You feel people bumping you and pull out of the kiss. Jinx buries her face in your neck. Still holding her, you carry her like a kid back over to Vi and Cait, her legs still wrapped around you.

Vi is dabbing her eyes with one of Cait’s handkerchiefs. “You guys are just so fucking cute.” She says. 

“Hey, Slugger. Been a while.” You say to Vi. Jinx puts her feet to the ground but doesn't let go of you. Vi gives you a hug around her clingy sister, Jinx sandwiched in the middle. One of your arms still around her, not fully wanting to let her go either. 

“Hello, Stranger. Good to have you back again.” Cait says attempting the same kind of hug. “Where’s your luggage?” She asks. 

“Oh shit! I gotta go get it.” You say, caught off guard. Regretfully letting go of Jinx, but she doesn’t let go of you. You laugh and pull her arms from around you. “I’ll be back.” you say planting a kiss on her lips. You and Cait start hurriedly jogging back to the ship to get your things. 

“Happy, Pow Pow?” Vi asks, stroking the back of Jinx’s hair. 

Jinx wipes her face with the crook of her elbow, sniffling loudly before sheepishly answering. “Yeah. I wasn’t worried.” 

Vi laughed and tugged her arm around Jinx’s neck. 

                    ~~~~~~~~~~~~

Walking back to Piltover through mid town, Vi takes your duffle. You wanted all the gems and coins you collected in a safe place, so had agreed to use a safe at the Kiramman’s. Jinx was holding on to your arm, kissing your cheek every few minutes, like she couldn’t believe you were real. 

Getting close to the bridge Vi tells you to head off with Jinx and she and Cait would take the duffle with them. After bickering about dirty laundry with Vi for a minute, Jinx pulls your arm, tugging you away from the conversation, toward Zaun. You call to Vi that you will owe her one for taking care of it. 

“Only one?” Vi calls after you. “I gotta deal with two weeks worth of those socks, man.” She jokes. 

[athenagc94]

Dear Daddy Long Legs - Chapter 19

Jason Todd x Fem!Reader

TW: Sexual Tension

First | Prev | Next

Chapter 19

“Four books by the end of the week. Four,” you emphasized as you shouldered through the door that led out of the student center, “And they’re not novellas either. I’m talking easily 600 pages each. It’s like my professors want me to go rogue.”

Second semester came at you hard and fast.

Classes were bound to get harder the further you progressed, but you didn’t expect it to happen this quickly. You could feel the imminent late-night breakdown creeping up, and it was only February.

“If I go rogue, which novel should I base my crimes on?”

Steph sucked her smoothie with dead eyes. If you were at your wit’s end, it was a miracle she was still standing. Pre-med at Gotham University had a reputation of raking its students through the coal. There was a reason half its graduates ended up in Arkham at some point, but you hoped Steph would be the half that came out unscathed.

She smacked her lips. “Anything written by Roald Dahl.”

“Horrifying,” you agreed.

She nodded solemnly. “Honestly, I would respect it. You’d rock the top hat and coat tails. Shit, the Bats might even leave you alone if you do it with enough flair.”

You snorted. Unlikely. “Are you done for the day?”

“I have a lab tonight. I hate that I have another night class, but it was the only course available this semester, and it’s a prerequisite for like everything else. Maybe Tim and Cass had the right idea when they chose to skip going to college.”

“We can’t all be nepo babies with trust funds.”

“Well, I mean.” Steph shot you a knowing look as she sipped her smoothie. “Some of us can reap the benefits of billionaires. How’s Brucie?”

“Brucie?”

“It’s what everyone calls him. He’s Gotham’s favorite himbo.”

You shuddered to think about it. You liked Bruce Wayne in theory. In your mind, he loomed over your head, slightly out of focus with harsh shadows contouring his face. It was easier to stomach than picturing the man who tripped and fell headfirst into a fountain… twice in one night.

“Bruce is doing whatever billionaires do, not that he responds to my letters. I imagine when you have that much money, I’m sure he gets on fine.”

You sent your first letter of the semester a few days ago. It may have come off a little unhinged as you outlined everything your professors asked you to complete, but Bruce couldn’t blame you for being overwhelmed. Between balancing your new schedule, work, and all the homework that came with it, you struggled to stay afloat.

“You could ask him yourself. I’m sure Cass would love to have us over for dinner sometime.”

“Absolutely not.”

You had nothing to show Bruce. No proof that his investment had paid off. Until that day, you were content to maintain this weird boundary that separated him from you.

Steph chuckled. “Just a thought. Did you want to head back to my place and work on some homework before my lab?”

Steph lived near campus. It made going home between classes convenient. You weren’t as lucky. “I’m done with classes for the day, and I have to work another party this evening.”

“We can hang out until you have to leave.”

“I would, but I promised to get there early so I could look over one of my coworker’s assignments.”

After a few gigs with Evan, he brought up his desire to finish high school. You had no idea where it came from, and honestly, you didn’t want to ask for fear of jinxing things. If he wanted to better himself, you weren’t about to squash those ambitions. He even mentioned going out for track in the spring the last time you talked.

Is this how parents felt when they saw their kids succeed?

Did you just consider yourself a parent?

You looked away to hide your horror. That was a secret you’d take to your grave.

“It’ll be easier to head to my place and work there.”

Steph pouted. “When are you not working?”

“Any time before 2 p.m. and after 2 a.m.”

“Lame, but again, I have to respect the hustle,” she said with a roll of her eyes, “Let’s find some time to study next week. My horoscope said that I need to surround myself with friends and family to overcome the hurdles life throws at me.”

“How poetic. What did mine say?”

Steph memorized your astrological chart within the first month of getting to know you. She also read all her friend’s horoscopes too.

“Take a chance and open your heart.”

“Frustratingly vague. I hate it.”

“Maybe, but now you’ll manifest it. Just wait and see.” She winked, lips curving into an impish smile. “I’m gonna head back to my place. Same time next week?”

“Yeah, I’ll see you around.”

You parted ways with a wave and headed toward the gate that led toward the subway station. A glacial wind sliced the air, stinging your skin. You shoved your nose beneath your knit scarf and pressed on, knowing it would be better once you made it below ground.

As you pulled up to the archway that led off campus, you noticed a tall figure leaning against the sleek stone column. His Wonder Woman ball cap hid the streak in his hair, but you knew it was Jacob.

Though it was odd to see him out during the day.

“Well, well. Look who’s out in broad daylight,” you teased as you pulled up next to him, “I always assumed direct sunlight would kill you.”

“Ha, ha. You know I’m not a vampire, right?”

“Obviously not. I watched you devour a box of garlic bread sticks the other night. You give me more of a spooky ghost vibe since you have a habit of appearing and disappearing like one.”

He mumbled under his breath.

You arched an eyebrow. “Come again?”

“I said I’m more like a zombie. It was a bad joke. Forget it. Here.” He shoved the to-go cup in his hand at you, thin wisps of steam curling from its lid. “I had a feeling the start of the semester would be rough, so I thought you could use a little pick me up.”

“You know my drink order?”

He rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. “I saw an old receipt the last time I was over and, uh, memorized it.”

“I don’t know whether to be creeped out or flattered.”

“The latter, hopefully.”

You sipped the drink, delighted to find it was made exactly how you liked it. “Flattered it is.” You licked your lips. “So, is that the only reason why you’re here? I expected to see you later.”

He fell into step beside you as you headed for the station. “I thought I’d surprise you after class for a change.”

“Is that all?”

“And maybe I didn’t want to wait until later.”

A pleasant zing rippled under your skin. Sometimes he said things that made you want to grab him by the collar and pepper kisses over his scars until he was a blushing mess. You smothered the urge with another sip of your drink. “I was heading back to my place to do some homework before my shift. While it’s not the most exciting afternoon, you’re welcome to join me.”

“There’s enough going on in my life that mundane sounds amazing, especially if I’m with you.”

He made self-restraint difficult.

Together, you headed down the stairs that emptied onto a platform. It was fairly crowded given several class blocks had just let out, students and professors alike huddled between the pillars as they waited for the next train. You stepped closer to Jacob, making room as more people arrived. His hand settled on the small of your back, drawing you into his side.

A few weeks ago, this would have only happened in your dreams, but he seemed more inclined to touch you. His hands never strayed far, often taking roost on your shoulder or knee. His personal favorite seemed to be your back, be it tracing small circles idly in your skin or providing a sturdy presence like he was now—tantalizingly close to your ass.

Anyway.

The subway pulled up to the platform and people shuffled onto it. You and Jacob found space in the last car near the back, people shoving you flat against the chilly glass. He angled his body toward the door, one arm braced over your head to shield you from the rest of the car. The brim of his hat created harsh shadows across his face as he peered down at you. You swore that his eyes almost glowed in the dim light.

“Is this alright?”

“No complaints here,” you assured him as you clutched your cup to your chest, ensuring it didn’t spill.

The car pulled away from the platform, your bodies swaying with its momentum. His hand fell to your hip, steadying you. Ten stops to Park Row. Approximately thirty minutes, give or take any unseen delays. You could survive that long.

Jacob though?

He appeared to struggle with your proximity.

He chewed the skin from his lower lip as he looked anywhere but your face, a soft flush turning his cheeks pink. You were about to tell him he didn’t have to stand so close when his thump dipped beneath the hem of your sweatshirt to rub small circles over your hip bone.

It seemed unintentional on his part like when he flexed his fingers to self-soothe, except now you were his personal fidget toy. Every muscle in your body pulled taut as you fought the involuntary shudder tingling at the base of your spine. You felt hot, feverish even, with him this close. There wasn’t enough self-restraint in the world. Not for this, not for him.

“Jacob,” you breathed.

His hand slipped fully under your sweatshirt, his palm ghosting up and down your side before settling back on your hip.

Your grip tightened around your cup. That felt more intentional than nervous fidgeting. He trained his gaze over your head as his hand drifted up once more, his thumb and forefinger teased the band of your bra, just shy of the swell of your breast. This time, he just… stayed there.

On the cusp of scandalous, but not quite.

A gasp snagged in your throat.

He peered down at you again with heavy eyes. “And this? Is this alright?” His voice barely crested a whisper.

You nodded, cheeks burning. You didn’t trust yourself to speak. It might ruin this moment. You never imagined he would muster the courage to touch you like this, let alone on a crowded subway. Sometimes, you wondered if he had sexual urges. Or he was just a gentleman. That thought had also crossed your mind, but now your mind had gone a little fuzzy as you wrangled with this new development.

This was good.

Better than good.

After months of push and pull, progress gained and progress lost, this was what you’d been working toward. And now that you had it… it still wasn’t enough. You wanted, no, you needed more. With a move this bold, it had to be a sign he was ready to take things to the next level.

Right?

You angled your chin more purposefully toward him, allowing him to make that choice. Pupils blown wide, he wet his lips and ducked his head, nearly closing the distance. Your eyes fluttered close as his lips grazed—

Your phone buzzed loudly in your back pocket.

Jacob extracted himself as onlookers shot you a dirty look because God forbid you disrupt their luxurious subway ride to the shittiest end of the city. You scrambled for your phone as he hid his face in his hand, though it did nothing to hide his ragged breaths or the noticeable bulge that pressed against the seam of his pants.

Your gaze flicked between his pants and your phone, torn. On the one hand, the embarrassment of popping a boner on the subway might just kill him, but on the other, knowing you’d riled him up enough to make him hard weighed heavy between your thighs.

So much for self-restraint.

Through means that should be classified as metahuman, you managed to look away from Jacob and focus on your phone. It wasn’t a number you recognized, but you pressed it to your ear anyway, hoping to alleviate the sexual tension that threatened to smother you.

“Hello?”

“—llo—icki Vale with the Goth—zette. I’m calling on behalf of our annual writing com—Is this—who submitted the short story Through My Eyes?” You straightened, pressing your phone closer to your ear as if that would fix the shitty service.

“Yes. That’s me.”

“Wonderful. I am de—finalist in our competition.”

“Are you joking?” You fell into Jacob as the subway slowed to a stop. He caught you loosely by the shoulder, muffling a soft grunt in his hand.

“I only report the truth Miss—offended by anyone—otherwise.”

You needed better service for this conversation. Your gaze flicked to Jacob who was red enough to match his helmet. Fresh air too. Shoving your drink into one of his hands and grabbing the other, you dragged him off the subway before the doors slid closed and headed up the stairs to get above ground. Vicki continued speaking, her voice cutting in and out.

“Excerpt—winner—I put you down?”

That last part sounded less like it was traveling through water. “Can you repeat that?”

Vicki heaved a sigh and said, “We’re holding a showcase at the end of March to recognize our finalists. There, you’ll read an excerpt from your submission, and we’ll announce the winner. Can I put down as attending?”

“Absolutely. I’ll be there. I’m so—thank you so much.”

“Fantastic. We’ll send formal invitations in the next week or so, but we wanted to inform our finalists ahead of time. This event is an exclusive showcase, space is limited. You’ll be allowed to bring two guests. We look forward to seeing you at the end of March. Be in touch.”

The line went dead before you could say anything more, but you were too stunned to speak. This couldn’t be real.

“Who was that?”

You stopped in the middle of the sidewalk outside the station, one hand still gripping Jacob’s like a vice. People moved around you because you two were very much in the way. He still looked a little pink, but the tent in his pants was less noticeable now that you’d left the crammed subway car. Residual embarrassment still looming, you pocketed your phone and guided him into a recessed alcove that led into an apartment complex. It was as ‘private’ as you would get out here.

“I just got off the phone with Vicki Vale.” You paused a beat before adding, “From the Gotham Gazette.”

He flashed a small smile, revealing his pronounced canines. “I’ve heard of her.”

“Well, hear this. I’m a finalist in the writing competition I entered in December. Me. I can’t believe it?” You struggled to hide your excitement. “My advisor suggested I enter, but I didn’t think anything would come of it. I’m a little rusty, more than a little if I’m being honest, and it was far from my best work seeing as I was—”

The to-go cup hit the ground as Jacob scooped you up, twirling you around. You bit back a yelp of surprise as you clutched his shoulders. His wide smile faltered once he slowed, his flush darkening again. “Sorry. You were talking shit about yourself, and I wanted you to stop.” He cleared his throat. “For the record, I never doubted you for a second.”

Your chest tightened. “You’re just saying that.”

“I mean it,” he said in earnest, “I always knew you had what it took to be a great writer. That’s why I—”

He hesitated.

Your fingers bunched in his collar. “That’s why?”

He lowered you so that your eyes were level. “That’s why I admire your passion.”

That heaviness from before returned. You lifted his cap to see his face, steely eyes softened with affection. Cupping him loosely by the jaw seemed like simultaneously too much and not enough. He pressed his face into your palm, a low, inaudible groan rumbling in his chest. You might have missed it if he didn’t have you pressed flush against him.

Take a chance and open your heart.

Damn it. Steph was right.

“I’d like you to come to the showcase.”

He dragged his face away from your hand and blinked. “You want me there?”

“Yes. Why wouldn’t I want you there?”

He averted his gaze, reverting to the shy man you found all the more endearing. “Trust me, I’m flattered, but wouldn’t you rather invite someone who matt—”

You took his face in both hands and forced him to look at you. “I’d rather invite you. End of discussion.”

His expression turned inexplicably soft. “Yes, ma’am. If you want me there, I’ll be there.”

You believed him.

You had no reason to believe otherwise.

------------------------------------

A/N: I promise I will stop teasing you guys *very* soon. I read it in your horoscopes.

-------------------------------------

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Let me know if you want to be added!

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[cherry-coffees]

Labyrinth, Chapter 5 (Interlude): The Plane Was Going Down

Premise: The fateful night when a monkeybomb goes wrong and Vi leaves Powder. Standing in between them, what will you do?

cw: 574 words | childhood crush!Vi, s1 ep3 slight rewrite, mentions of flames, smoke, and blood, angst, I PROMISE ILL HEAL YOUR BROKEN HEARTS AFTER THIS JUST KEEP READING </3

Ch.1 | Ch.2 | Ch.3 | Ch.4

Months later.

Flames. Smoke. Blood.

That’s all Vi can process after the battle, after Powder’s monkey bomb had gone horribly wrong and ended with Vander, Mylo, and Claggor dead. Vi’s always been strong, always been brave and composed. But in this moment: she’s just a broken teenagers, tear marks staining her cheek.

You cough from the smokey air, wiping your own tears away as you stumble to your feet. “Vi,” you cough, stepping over to her. 

Vi’s eyes widen when she sees you. “What are you doing here?” She exclaims. “I told you not to come. You could’ve-“ she cuts herself off, gripping your shoulder. She’s half frustrated you didn’t listen, consumed by her grief over her adoptive father and brothers, and half relieved you’re okay.

“Vi!” Powder bounds over to the both of you in childlike excitement. “I did it! My monkeybomb finally worked.”

Vi’s eyes go dead. Your stomach drops.

“You did this?” Vi stares at her younger sister in disbelief. “Why-?"

“I was saving you both,” Powder responds, but you can hear her excitement fading when she takes in the casualties, her own tears beginning to form. “I- I just wanted to help.”

“I told you to stay!” Vi moves through the stages of grief more quickly than you’ve ever seen, anger overcoming her. 

You see her hand coming up, and whatever adrenaline that rushes through you at that moment is enough to cause you to step between the sisters. You know Vi’s angry, that she can’t hit her sister. Not like this. Vi’s hand falters, but her eyes flash with fury. She steps around you in a moment. “I’m going!” 

“No!” Powder shrieks, completely distraught. “Why are you leaving me?”

“Because you’re a jinx!” Vi screams, voice hoarse from her devastation that’s hidden behind her anger.

“Stop!” You step in, eyes shiny with your own tears. “Stop, we can’t do this!”

“She’s the reason for all of this!” Vi seethes, and before you know it, she’s turning her back on both of you and moving away from the scene. Half of her expects you to follow her, but all she knows is that she needs to get away from the area, get away from all the pain she’s in.

The next few minutes are a blur. You’re torn between Vi and Powder. You want to run after Vi, to comfort her, to make sure she’s okay and bring her back to reconcile. But you can’t leave Powder like this, helpless on her own.

“Give me one second,” you gasp through your sobs, trying to soothe Powder with just your voice. “We’ll figure this out, I-“

You cut yourself off when you see Enforcers headed straight for Vi’s retreating form. “Vi!” You scream louder than you ever have before, your feet carrying you towards her. But she’s too far, and you’re helpless as she’s taken by them.

You sob, casting a glance back at Powder, tears blurring your vision to the point where you almost can’t see. But what you do see, in that moment, is a tall figure that you recognize as Silco. Headed for Powder.

No.

You’re sprinting, feet moving more quickly than they ever have. You can’t process anything, there’s no thoughts. It’s pure instinct and adrenaline when you scoop a weeping Powder into your arms and run until you can’t breathe anymore, until all you can see are the tops of the Piltover buildings that loom overhead.

A/N: ...I'm sorry?

~Cherry 🍒

[millenianthemums]

Chapter 6 of Mabel’s Guide to the Power of Friendship is up!!

Writing this one took me a while, and then the art also took a while… everything took a while. i always enjoy writing this once i get to it, though! hope you enjoy this one too.

PREVIOUS

INDEX

NEXT

chapter text under cut:

It was hard for Mabel to really relax, knowing that Bill was lurking just below the floorboards. But by the time the sun was low and her family was gathered around the dinner table, she’d mostly put it out of her mind. It was hard to be miserable with them around.

“You think Soos will bring more empanadas when he’s here tomorrow?” Dipper asked, picking at the strangely opalescent casserole on his plate.

“If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were insinuating something about my cooking,” Ford said wryly.

“Whaaat? No! No, don’t be– that’s ridiculous,” Dipper said. “This is great! I mean, it’s a million times better than last time, this one didn’t even come to life and attack us–”

“Don’t jinx it,” Stan said.

“Hey, c’mon, guys,” Mabel piped up. “It’s the thought that counts, right? It’s really sweet that he tried. Besides, even Grunkle Ford can’t be perfect at everything.”

Ford chuckled. “Thank you, Mabel. As far as backhanded compliments go, that’s quite nice.”

“It’s true!” she said. “So what if you’re not a chef? You invent, like, six magical contraptions a week!”

“That’s a wild exaggeration,” Ford said with a grin. “It’s been at least a month since the last one. Although Fiddleford and I have made some real progress on our current project…”

“New project?” Dipper perked up. “What is it?”

“Oh, I don’t know if the details will interest you that much–”

“Shaaare!” Mabel demanded. Dipper immediately joined in, both of them pumping their fists and shouting “Share! Share! Share!” until Ford laughed and gave in. They all knew he didn’t really need that much encouragement, but it was fun anyway.

“Alright, alright! I’ll tell you.” Ford waved his hands to set the scene, the way he always did when he started talking about science stuff. “So, we all know that unicorn tears have remarkable healing properties, right? But we also know that unicorns aren’t generous creatures, and trying to obtain some tears by force often creates more injuries than they could ever heal.”

Stan snorted. “And how many tries did it take for that lesson to set in?”

“Not the topic, Stanley. Anyway, our goal was to synthetically recreate the healing properties of the tears, eliminating the need to seek out the real thing. This has been in the works for a long time; in fact, our biggest breakthroughs came from studying the sample Mabel and her friends obtained last year…”

Dipper extended a fist to Mabel, and she proudly bumped it.

“...And I must say, we’ve had some very promising results with the latest prototypes! There have been some hiccups here and there– we really should have fireproofed the lab sooner– but I think in the next few weeks, we might even end up with something that could surpass the healing properties of unicorn tears!”

“Nice!” Mabel held out a fist to Ford. “Take that, you overrated horses!”

Ford laughed, accepting the fist bump. Stan clapped a hand on his shoulder. “Here’s hoping you get it workin’ before we set out again. It’d make things way less stressful on the boat. Heck, the coast guard medics might even have time to forget our names!”

“Wait, you’re setting out again?” Dipper asked. “When?”

“End of the summer, same as you kids!” Stan said proudly. “First thing in September, we’re headed right back out there.”

Ford nodded. “We still have a lot more to investigate. I expect we’ll be very busy once Fall comes around, which is why I’m under strict orders to ‘take it easy’ while we’re here. Otherwise, the elixir would probably be finished by now–” Stan crossed his arms, and Ford quickly added “--but I completely understand the point of it. Rest is important, kids.”

“Darn right,” Stan grunted. “Far as I’m concerned, we’re both on vacation for the summer.”

Dipper tapped his fork on his chin. “So you won’t be studying Gravity Falls for a while?”

“C’mon, brobro,” Mabel chided. “Grunkle Ford’s willingly taking a break for once, let’s not remind him of all the extra stuff he could be doing!”

“That’s not what I meant!” Dipper protested. “I’m just saying…”

“It’s a fair question,” Ford said. “There certainly are plenty of mysteries left unsolved around here. But I think Stanley and I have broadened our focus a bit too much to give special attention to Gravity Falls anymore. Just our brief stay in the Arctic Circle alone has raised so many fascinating questions, and we still have so many more places to investigate… there’s just not enough time to solve all the world’s mysteries, I’m afraid.”

“Hey, relax, Poindexter,” Stan cut in, shoving Ford’s shoulder. “We’re not the only ones working on this stuff. Something tells me Gravity Falls’ll be in good hands, even without us.” He gave Dipper a meaningful wink. Mabel couldn’t help but smile at the way her brother’s face lit up.

“Hey, guys?” Dipper asked, leaning back in his chair and trying to seem subtle. “Can we talk after dinner? I was hoping to get some feedback on this project I’m working on…”

Mabel’s smile faded. “Is it about that dumb thesis contest?” She turned to the Grunkles and pointed accusingly at Dipper. “He won’t let me help with it! He wouldn’t shut up about how cool it would be to win and get a big smarty-pants paper published, and now that he’s allowed to start working on it he won’t even tell me what it’s gonna be about! I could have done like fifty illustrations by now if—”

“I told you, there’s nothing to share yet!” Dipper protested. “I’ve… kinda been putting it off. I’ve still got a week until the topic proposal’s due…”

“Then what do you need Stan and Ford’s ‘feedback’ on?”

Dipper tugged at his shirt collar. “Uh… it’s…”

“I could help,” she said, voice a little louder than she’d wanted. “Even if it’s something I’m bad at, I could help make it look cool. If you just told me a little bit about it…”

Dipper sighed. “Look, Mabel, I promise I’ll share it with you soon, okay? I just… I want it to be a surprise.”

Mabel looked at him doubtfully over the rim of her water glass. She wanted to keep prying, but it was clear she was just making him uncomfortable. He didn’t want her help, he just didn’t know how to say it. She could tell.

“Okay,” she said, trying not to sound hurt. It was fine, really. She had high-speed bike riding; Dipper was allowed to have things just for himself too. It was normal for twins to grow apart. She drained the rest of her glass and stared down at the tablecloth.

An awkward silence hung in the air for a moment. Then Stan spoke up. “Speaking of surprises. Hey Sixer, remember that thing we ran into off the coast of Greenland in March?”

Ford laughed. “How could I possibly forget? Now, kids, I don’t know about you, but nothing in my paleontology education gave me the impression that wooly mammoths were aquatic…”

Soon Mabel was too wrapped up in seafaring stories to be sad about anything.

——-

Bill must have fallen asleep at some point. He’d been lying there, in the basement, in the dark, with the Pines’ infernal voices ringing above him, but then something had happened. The voices changed. And suddenly he wasn’t in a basement anymore. He was lying on an exam table, and his arms were strapped down, and his eye wouldn’t close, and the air was thick with antiseptic. And there were voices all around him, moving around him, but he knew he couldn’t look, he just had to keep his eye focused on the stars overhead, just don’t look, just don’t look at them, just pretend they’re not there, pretend you’re among the stars and nothing’s happening, nothing hurts. So he didn’t look away, not even when the quiet voices he could hear through the pain changed again, became painfully familiar, he still didn’t look, even when they started screaming, even when their cries and pleading were drowned out by the sounds of flames, even when the heat waves twisted the air and the crunching, sizzling, tearing sounds and the smell of burning meat drowned out all his other senses he still didn’t look, he didn’t look down, he wouldn’t–

And then he was back in the basement. It was dark and still. The only sound was his own ragged breathing.

He sat up and scrubbed at his face with the blanket he’d been wrapped in. Dreams. He hadn’t been ready to deal with dreams. Other people’s dreams were a riot. Not his own.

He’d been distracted too quickly to dwell on the last one. He’d foolishly hoped that would be the last one for a while. But no, of course not. This world couldn’t allow him even a moment of peace. Every sleep was going to be like this.

In the dark, he staggered to the small bathroom in the back of the room. He ran the cold water in the sink and rinsed his mouth until he forgot the taste of the smoke. It was so vivid. So convincing. Even though none of it had made any sense, it felt real.

He stared numbly at the mirror. Their voices. He’d remembered them, of course. Despite all the worlds that had sprouted and withered between then and now, despite everything he’d tried, he’d never been able to stop remembering them. But he never thought he’d have to hear those voices again.

Someone knocked at the door.

His first thought was “thank god”. He’d been desperately hoping for anything else to think about. His second thought, as he heard the door unlock, was “that could be anybody”. So he stood just at the edge of the room and prepared to run for cover, until a small, high-pitched voice said “It’s me.”

Bill relaxed a little. Not a lot, but more than zero. He scrubbed his face dry and straightened his bowtie before she entered, trying to look as stoic as possible. She didn’t seem to notice anything amiss as she rushed in and slumped against the door to shut it. Both her hands were busy carrying an overloaded paper plate.

Trying her best to not let it fold under the weight of the food piled onto it, she glanced around for a surface to place it on. The curved lid of the wooden chest was considered, then quickly rejected when the plate started sliding. She winced before resorting to setting it down on the floor beside the beanbag. Finally, she retrieved a packet of plastic utensils from a takeout place and laid it beside the plate, trying to make it look presentable.

“We need to get a table or something in here,” she muttered as Bill drew closer to inspect the offering.

“YEAH, SOME APPLIANCES WOULD BE NICE TOO,” he joked. “I’M THINKIN’ A STUDIO APARTMENT KIND OF SETUP. WASHER AND DRYER OVER THERE, THAT CORNER’S THE KITCHEN… FULL-SIZE JACUZZI ON THAT SIDE, OBVIOUSLY…”

“I have six dollars,” Mabel piped up.

Bill laughed before he could stop himself. Encouraged, she went on: “I mean, there’s an empty fish tank and a car battery in the garage. We could make a hole in the side and stick a blowdryer in there for a jet. That’d be fine, right?”

He laughed again. “I LIKE WHERE YOUR HEAD’S AT, KID. IF WE SHUT OFF THE SPRINKLERS, WE COULD SET UP A FIRE PIT IN THE KITCHEN CORNER!”

“Perfect plan!” Mabel laughed along with him, but then seemed to think better of it. “But okay, hold on, we can start with the home renovations later. For now, you should eat.” She pointed to the plate. “It’s just some leftovers from tonight. Figured taking more snacks would look suspicious. But if it, uh… disagrees with you… then just let me know tomorrow.”

That wasn’t a glowing review. Looking dubiously at the alleged “food” on the plate, he didn’t see much reason to doubt it. Still, he tried to look grateful as he picked up a plastic fork. “WILL DO,” he said, trying not to look down.

“I’ll come back down tomorrow, before the others wake up,” she said, crossing back over to the door. “Including Grunkle Ford… ugh, that’s gonna suck. But once I’m back, we’ll figure out a plan, okay?”

Bill glanced around the room. “I THOUGHT THIS WAS THE PLAN,” he said.

“C’mon, you can’t just stay in one tiny dark room all summer! This isn’t Guacamole or something.”

Bill snorted. “GUANTANAMO?”

“Whatever,” she said, flushing. “The point is we need to get you outside once in a while. You have scales, things with scales need sunlight or they get sick. And what’s the point of all this work if you get sick and die??”

She had a point there. Bill shifted uncomfortably, realizing he wasn’t totally sure if the sun thing would apply to him or not. “YEAH, FAIR ENOUGH. KEEP FORGETTING THIS…” he gestured to the body, “…THING NEEDS ‘VITAMINS’ AND SUCHLIKE.”

“Relatable, honestly. But there’s a bunch more stuff to plan out, too! We need to be able to contact each other in emergencies. And, like, a secret knock so you know when it’s me, and a code to communicate…” as she spoke, her hands started flapping with excitement. “Oh my gosh, it’s like one of those spy games Dipper likes. We could make a guidebook with all this stuff! Like a, what, codex? For the code? We could make our own code! You can handle that part— I know that’s your thing, it’s literally your name… I get to do all the art, though. It can have a scrapbook vibe— I gotta find my craft scissors with the zig-zags—”

“KID.” Bill cut her off. “I KNOW IT’S IN YOUR NATURE NOT TO TAKE STUFF SERIOUSLY. IT’S A GOOD TRAIT! MAKES LIFE A LOT MORE BEARABLE. BUT THIS ISN’T SOME SILLY SUMMER CRAFT PROJECT. THIS IS LIFE OR DEATH, GOT IT? CAN WE TRY TO ACT LIKE IT’S IMPORTANT?”

She looked hurt. “Silly things are still important,” she muttered. “We could hide it in here. And even if someone finds it, it could be any goofy old thing I made! Dipper showed me how to do that invisible ink thing; I could act like the empty space is just unfinished parts! I dunno, I just… I thought it’d make this whole thing a little more fun.”

Bill squinted at her as she stared at the floor, arms crossed tight over her chest. Then he rolled his eye. Maybe he was being a choosing beggar here. This was Mabel Pines; of course she’d want to make some stupid game out of this. And the whole plan was to humor her. If this was what it took to keep her invested, he should probably just play along.

“OKAY, FINE. I’M IN,” he sighed. “WE CAN MAKE A BOOK OR WHATEVER.”

She lit up again. “Really?? Yes! Awesome! It’ll be so fun, I promise.” She paused and glanced at the dark window. “But we can start that later. I gotta go get at least a tiny bit of sleep first.”

Bill shrugged. “SURE. CAN’T KEEP THIS BODY ALIVE IF YOURS GIVES OUT.”

“Thanks for the concern,” she snorted. “And see you in the morning.” She gave a quick wave before shutting the door behind her.

Watching the door, he heard the heavy “clunk” of the lock clicking shut, then rapid footsteps bounding up the staircase. He sighed and pinched his forehead. That much youthful energy couldn’t be sustainable. She probably wouldn’t live past 20.

As he waited for the various noises and occupants of the house to settle, he wolfed down the food as fast as he could. The kid was right to be apologetic, but if he ate quickly, he didn’t taste it much. It was just fuel anyway.

When the plate was finally empty, he dropped it back to the floor and picked up the plastic fork. He rinsed it in the sink as well as he could, wiped it dry with the paper napkin that came with the set, then bent one of the tines away from the others. He leaned one side against the crack in the door, listening intently to the silence from above. There wasn’t a whisper of movement.

He stuck the tine of the fork into the lock.

It was more stubborn than your typical household lock, but Bill had bested much worse with much less. It only took a little finagling before he heard the “clunk” he was listening for. Slowly, cautiously, he eased the door open. The hallway was dark and empty. He stashed his impromptu lockpick in his hat, locked the door behind him, and crept up into the house.

—-

The place was as quiet and dark as he’d hoped for. He’d been right to judge by the footsteps above him that they’d all gone to bed. And thankfully, even without his usual glow, the stars outside were bright enough to see by. He crept along with his back against the wall, testing each floorboard before he stepped, scanning his surroundings.

The decor was about the same as he remembered, with a few notable changes. A lot of the ceiling and walls had been replaced; probably necessary after they turned it into a big stupid robot last year. And it seemed like someone else might have moved in. There were some new decorations that weren't anything close to the “style” he’d come to expect from the place. Lace doilies hung from the tops of chairs and sofas like dusty cobwebs, and handmade blankets and wall hangings were scattered all around. Shooting Star was crafty, sure, but these didn’t look like her handiwork. The colors were way too easy on the eye, and there wasn’t a crumb of glitter to be seen. If they were her doing, they were a big step down in quality.

But if they weren’t, it meant an extra person to deal with. Better keep his eye out.

He turned a corner and a massive shape blotted out the hallway ahead. He scrambled back, clenching his teeth tight beneath his eyelids to stop a yell from escaping.

Then his eye adjusted, and he had to stifle an irritated growl. It was just that stupid pig. He’d forgotten how huge it was now, and it looked a lot less pathetic from a low angle. It was sitting in the middle of the floor, directly in his path, staring down at him. Its eyes glittered in the moonlight like two tiny black teeth.

Bill glared up at it defiantly. Just let it try and make a move. He might not have magic, but he still had claws and teeth. A ripped throat wasn’t as flashy as immolation, but it was still perfectly fatal.

The pig returned his stare with no discernable expression. A few silent seconds crept by.

Then the pig gave a grumbly snort and laid its head on the ground. It flopped onto one side and closed its eyes with an indifferent sigh.

Bill hurried on, telling himself to thank his lucky stars instead of feeling indignant. Still, his ego stung a little. Not even livestock saw him as a threat anymore.

To his relief, he had no more surprise encounters as he cased the second floor. The layout of the rooms was about the same as before, which meant the sounds of walking from above his little home base would still be a reliable method of tracking the inhabitants. He steered well clear of all the bedrooms and kept his back to the wall, and the floorboards beneath him kept silent. He was out of practice with walking, sure, but nobody who grew up causing problems ever forgets how to sneak through a hallway.

Once he’d made mental notes of all the storage spaces that might have supplies he could use, he headed for the portal. On the way through the gift shop he snagged a small notepad and pen from behind the desk. Scanning over the portal wreckage, he made a list of the missing components and tools he’d need. In code, obviously; secret codes were literally his name, after all.

Once the darkness outside started to lift away, he cut his work short and headed back. He tore the used page from the notebook and placed it and the pen back where he’d found them, exchanging them for a single paperclip that he stashed in his hat with the paper. That was all he felt comfortable taking for now. It was much too early to start gathering supplies. Anything left out of place would definitely make the kid suspicious. For now, he’d just plan. Make sure everything went as smoothly as it possibly could. He wasn’t sure how he was going to get all the power tools and steel he’d need down to the basement without being noticed, but there was no point freaking out about it now. He’d figure out logistics later. He could pull this off. He was going to pull this off. He had no other choice.

By the time the first pink rays of light had breached the horizon, he was back in the cell. The paperclip made a perfectly serviceable lockpick to latch the door behind him. Like nothing ever happened.

He curled up in his nest of blankets, trying to hold his eye open. Hoping to ward off the dreams a little longer. But eventually his exhaustion won the battle. His eye slid shut.

Maybe the next dream would at least be over quick.

—-

Bill’s wish came true. As soon as he jolted awake, he regretted making it. It felt like he’d been yanked out of a tar pit by his eyelashes, but his brain stayed behind. His head, chest and eye socket all felt like they were stuffed with wet cotton, and his bones were shaking with this sudden painful chill. His thoughts were so slow and muffled that it took a second for him to even realize that someone was staring him right in the face. He lurched away and fell backwards off the beanbag.

Mabel poked her head over the beanbag and beamed down at where he lay on the floor in a tangle of blankets. “Morning!” she said in a bright half-whisper. “How’d you sleep?”

Bill glared up at her with silent disdain. After a moment, she seemed to take that as an answer. “Yeah, me too. Had a lot of stress dreams. Anyway, time to figure some stuff out.”

She disappeared from view for a moment, then reappeared at his side with a fuzzy pink notebook and a chunky pink pen with a glittery pom-pom topper. She leafed through the book for a minute, then looked up at Bill. “You ok?”

“I’M DYING,” Bill croaked. It was barely hyperbole. That freezing, sinking pain just kept getting worse. Every second he kept his eye open, it felt like gravity increased tenfold.

Mabel hissed through her teeth. “Hold on a second.” She vanished from view again, then popped back in with a mason jar full of what looked like the fluid from inside a neon pink glowstick. She propped him upright and shoved it into his hands. “Drink this.”

Bill ought to have been at least a little suspicious of a drink presented so vaguely. But a billion years of drinking cocktails made from substances meant to power quantum reactions, combined with the weight of sheer exhaustion muffling all his thoughts, meant that he barely hesitated before lifting the jar to his eyelids and taking a gulp.

A second later, his eye shot wide open. “WHOA!” he shouted, blinking rapidly.

“Ooh, I might’ve put too many pop rocks in that batch,” Mabel said. She grabbed the jar and shook it, sending frozen fruit shapes and plastic dinosaurs clattering around in a glittery whirlpool. “Mixing it usually helps. Dipper keeps telling me to warn people before I give them this stuff—”

Bill grabbed the jar back. He took an approving glance at the crazy-looking drink— now that his brain was working, he could fully appreciate the vibe— and then knocked back another mouthful. A rush of energy buzzed through his brain, setting his neurons alight like christmas lights hooked up to a nuclear reactor. The dangerously sugary concoction stung the inside of his mouth like acid, but this was a fun kind of pain. “OH, THIS IS PHENOMENAL.”

Mabel’s face lit up. “You like it??”

“DO I?!” One more swig and the jar was empty, and Bill was actually bouncing in place a little. “I FEEL LIKE A WHOLE NEW TRIANGLE! WHAT IS THAT?!”

“It’s Mabel Juice!” she beamed. “My own personal secret recipe! It’s so secret, not even I know what the secret is! Seriously, I hardly ever write the ingredients down.”

Bill laughed. “WELL, COLOR ME IMPRESSED, KID! I HAVEN’T HAD A DRINK THAT GOOD SINCE THAT BATTERY ACID DAQUIRI I MIXED BACK IN THE ‘30s. AND THIS ONE DIDN’T EVEN DISSOLVE MY STOMACH!”

Mabel’s smile dropped for a second, then returned. “I’ll take that as a compliment!” she said proudly. “I’ll bring more down later. I’ve got a million different brews you can try! The others don’t drink much of it, they always complain about how there’s ‘so much sugar’ and it ‘burns their mouths’ or whatever…”

“HEY, THEIR LOSS! I’LL TAKE IT OFF YOUR HANDS! EXTRA BURNING ON THE SIDE, IF YOU’VE GOT IT,” Bill offered. He had to hand it to the kid; she made pouring on the charm pretty easy. In a better world, he would’ve hired her as a barista in the Fearamid.

Mabel grinned, but then her face froze. From somewhere upstairs, the familiar sound of heavy, clomping footsteps rang through the ceiling.

Bill froze in place too, his eye locked on the ceiling. His teeth clenched tight behind his eye socket as he tried to repress his anger. Like a favorite song after you set it as your morning alarm, that sound made his blood boil on contact.

“Grunkle Ford’s up,” Mabel whispered. Bill glanced over to see her watching the ceiling too. “I thought he’d at least sleep ‘til five…”

“RISKY GAMBLE THERE,” Bill muttered. “FORD DOESN’T HAVE A SLEEP SCHEDULE, HE JUST WORKS ‘TIL HE KEELS OVER.”

“He’s working on it,” Mabel said defensively. Maybe Bill hadn’t kept all the derision out of his voice. He kept his mouth shut, just to be safe.

“Okay. Alright. This is fine.” The kid was clearly reassuring herself more than him. “He shouldn’t hear us down here. Nobody heard you screaming your head off the other day, they shouldn’t hear us just talking… we should be fine for now. As long as he doesn’t wander down here and happen to just randomly get close to this room. Or wander upstairs to his office and pass our bedroom and happen to look in and notice I’m not there. So as long as he stays on the exact floor he’s on now, we’ll be okay…”

“KID, RELAX. YOU SOUND LIKE PINETREE,” Bill laughed. “WITH HOW LOUD THOSE STEPS ARE, WE’LL HAVE A TON OF WARNING IF HE HEADS FOR ANY STAIRS. JUST CUT TO THE CHASE SO YOU DIDN’T WAKE ME UP FOR NOTHING.”

She shot another worried glance at the ceiling, then nodded. “Okay. Sure. The chase… hold on.” She grabbed her notepad and pen again, then started rooting around for something else in the backpack she’d brought. “The Chase, part one. Secret messages. Ooh, that’s good.” She opened the book and labeled the first page with that title. Bill bit his tongue to stop himself from pointing out that huge pink bubble letters weren’t the best choice for subtlety.

“Now,” she said, throwing the notebook down like a frazzled detective presenting her notes. “I would’ve loved to, like, build a two-way radio out of soda cans, or find a way to send smoke signals through the A/C system or something. But I think we should wait on that ‘til later. Right now, simplicity’s the name of the game.” With a victorious flourish, she revealed the thing she’d fished out of the bag. It took a second for Bill to parse what the battered old thing even was. A cell phone. An ancient, blocky brick of a flip-screen cell phone.

“YEESH!” he exclaimed as she shoved it into his hands. “WHAT ANCIENT BURIAL GROUND DIDJA DIG THIS THING OUT OF? IT’S OLD ENOUGH TO BE YOUR DAD!”

Mabel snorted. “Give me a break! It was the best one I could find in the closet where Grunkle Stan keeps all his burner phones.”

“WELL, I’D HATE TO SEE THE COMPETITION!” Bill remarked. “WHAT WAS THE WORST ONE, A CLAY TABLET? A BONE CARVED FLUTE TO CALL THE NEANDERTHAL TRIBE ON THE OTHER SIDE OF THE MOUNTAIN?”

Mabel hid a giggle behind the turtleneck of her sweater. All according to plan. Jokes were a great way of lowering a mark’s defenses, even if they didn’t land. And despite her best efforts, Shooting Star was a good audience.

He held down the power button and marvelled as the dusty, scuffed screen actually lit up. “WHAAAT! LOOK AT THIS LOGO! THIS COMPANY WENT UNDER IN 2002! THE CEO BURNED DOWN THE OFFICE TO HIDE TAX FRAUD AND MELTED HIS EYELIDS OFF!”

Mabel clapped her hands over her ears. “Ugh!! Why would you tell me that?”

“BECAUSE IT’S HILARIOUS! THE GUY WAS A TOTAL LOSER ANYWAY, HE WAS TOO UPTIGHT TO TAKE MY DEAL AND COULDN’T EVEN HANDLE A WEEK OF NIGHT TERRORS BEFORE HE CRACKED—”

“Anyway!” She cut him off. “This was the only phone I found in the closet that could send texts. We need to be able to keep in touch, so you can let me know if you’re hurt or need more supplies, and I can warn you if people upstairs can hear you practicing your evil laugh or something.”

“WHA— HEY! WHO EVEN— NOBODY NEEDS TO PRACTICE THEIR LAUGH, THAT’S JUST STUPID.” Bill hoped he didn’t sound too defensive. There was no way she actually knew about that, right?

She just rolled her eyes, holding back a smile. “Point is, that phone is yours. Nobody’ll recognize that number. My number’s in there already, you can text me in morse code if you need something.”

Bill looked up from the phone screen to squint at her. “MORSE? C’MON, KID.”

“What’s wrong with morse?”

“THAT’S THE MOST BASIC CODE IN EXISTENCE! YOU REALLY THINK ANYBODY IN THIS HOUSE WOULDN’T RECOGNIZE MORSE WHEN THEY SAW IT?” he said. “YOU THINK THEY’LL SEE YOU ANSWERING TEXTS IN MORSE FROM SOME RANDOM NUMBER AND HAVE ANY OTHER THOUGHT BESIDES ‘SHE’S HIDING SOMETHING’?”

Mabel sighed. “Okay, fine, Mr. Code Snob. What should we use?”

“WE SHOULDN’T ‘USE’ ANYTHING. WE JUST KEEP THINGS VAGUE AND SIMPLE,” he said. “ANYTHING THAT EVEN LOOKS LIKE IT MIGHT BE CODE WILL JUST GET PEOPLE’S ATTENTION. BESIDES, IN A HOUSE FULL OF CON ARTISTS AND MYSTERY DORKS, I DOUBT THERE’S ANY CODE WE COULD USE ON THIS THING THAT NONE OF THEM WILL RECOGNIZE. THESE TEXTS NEED TO BE AS BORING AND UN-MYSTERIOUS AS THEY CAN POSSIBLY BE. SO BORING THAT NOT EVEN PINETREE IN HIS SNOOPIEST MOOD WOULD GLANCE AT ‘EM TWICE.”

Mabel pursed her lips. “Spam!” she said after a minute. “Dipper and I get spam texts from random numbers all the time. We can make up a system where I know what you’re saying based on what you’re trying to sell me. Like a scam alphabet!”

Bill’s eye crinkled with his version of a grin. “NOW YOU’RE TALKING!”

Mabel grabbed her pen and started rattling off scams to list in her notebook. Stan had clearly taught her well, and between the both of them they soon had a massive list to work from. On the opposite page, they listed phrases to match with each scam. “NEED FOOD”, “NEED SUPPLIES”, “INJURY”, “FIRE”, “RACCOON GOT IN”, and so on. As soon as they had a workable “alphabet”, the kid insisted they start deciding on secret knocks. They’d just started to argue about whether “shave-and-a-haircut” was too uncreative, when suddenly Mabel stopped short and held out a hand. Before Bill could ask what was up, he realized what she’d heard. A voice from upstairs. A voice that was much too prepubescent to be Ford’s.

“Dipper’s up,” Mabel hissed. “Why is Dipper up? He never gets up this early on his own… Did he notice I was gone? Is he looking for me?? How am I gonna get back up without—”

“GEEZ, RELAX,” Bill said. “LOOK, THE STAIRCASE TO THE ATTIC IS RIGHT ACROSS FROM THIS ONE. JUST WAIT UNTIL HE’S IN THE KITCHEN…” he pointed to that corner of the house, from where Ford’s voice was now ringing through the ceiling, “AND YOU CAN SNEAK BACK UP WITHOUT BUMPING INTO HIM. JUST DON’T LET HIM SEE YOU LEAVING THE BASEMENT, AND WE’LL BE FINE.”

“I don’t like how much you know about our house.”

Bill pointed to his eye. “REMEMBER HOW HALF THE DECOR IN HERE USED TO BE MY EYES?”

“Yeah, duh. Doesn’t mean it’s not creepy.” She shuddered, and Bill tried not to laugh. At least the memory of his powers still inspired fear… but he didn’t want her knowing how happy that made him.

Mabel gathered up her stuff and headed for the door. “I gotta go before he notices I’m not sleeping. Soon as I get a chance, I’ll sneak back down and we’ll sort out the other stuff on my checklist.”

“FAIR ENOUGH. BE SEEING YOU, KID.” He couldn’t resist putting a little extra emphasis on that word, pointing to his eye again with a smug, half-lidded smile. Shooting Star was his ally for now, sure. But she shouldn’t forget where things really stood. He was the one who was really in control here.

“And I’ll use the We Will Rock You knock.”

“UGH, COME ON!” Bill protested. “I’M TELLING YOU, SHAVE-AND-A-HAIRCUT IS THE GO-TO FOR A REASON, IT’S PRACTICAL—“

“See ya later!” She winked and vanished through the door. The lock clicked heavily into place.

Bill glared daggers at the door until the sound of footsteps had faded away. Then he took off his hat and rifled through the lining, taking a reassuring glance at his folded-up notes. And the paper clip fastening them in place. That dumb kid put way too much trust in that lock. Did she really not realize the danger she’d let into her house? Did she really not know what she was dealing with?

His eye was drawn in by a soft gleam from deep within the hat. He brushed some fabric aside and stared at the fragment of his dimension. It caught the dim light in the room and threw it back much brighter, twisted into colors that didn’t exist anymore. It hurt to look at it with this new eye. He let his gaze rest on it longer than he should have.

Then he tore his eye away and shoved the hat back on. No, she definitely didn’t know. The fact he was still here— still alive— was proof enough of that.

[jinxposting]

Jason Todd x Jinx! reader Chapter 11

Try

Red Hood found you that night, hudled in the corner, makeup smeared down your cheeks and hair in clumps on the floor. He walked you back to your temporary bed and tucked you in. Not a word spoken.

You could tell from the frown on his still masked face that he wanted to say something. Wanted to ask why. But he never did. You were grateful for that.

The next day you woke up feeling lighter. Both physically and mentally. Without the weight of your hair - and the memories it held - you were free. Free to be whoever you want. For the first time in your life no expectations. No assumptions. Just you.

Of course you knew that was only to you and the former Robin. Everyone else would still recognize you as Jinx. The clown princess of Gotham.

But it didn't bother you. Knowing you weren't the same was enough for now.

Red Hood had fitted you with a small arsenal. Dual pistols strapped to your hips, knives hidden in your boots and gloves, and of course your own grenades hidden throughout your person. He claimed you'd be a huge target now that you 'defected' from Joker. Being a part of his family did always come with perks, makes sense those perks would become hindrances later. You sighed.

"You good?"

"Yeah. Just thinking."

"Mm."

You sat inside Red Hood's makeshift armory. Guns and ammo were sprawled from wall to wall, floor to ceiling. You wondered where he got all these. If maybe he was secretly rich. Then you look around at the building you currently reside and brush the idea aside.

"You're really gonna kill him... right?"

"That's the plan."

You hum in acknowledgement. You pulled your knees to your chin. Your fingers twirled along the back of your freshly cut hair, occasionally overextending. Attempting to run through length that was no longer there.

"Don't miss, Red."

"I won't." He spoke in a stern tone.

You slouched. "Red..."

"What?"

"What's your name? Your actual name?"

"..."

You looked up to see a conflicted expression on the man's face. He opened his mouth then closed it. Then opened it again before sighing.

"... y/n."

"Huh?"

"That's who I used to be. Before Jinx."

"... Jason."

"Jason?"

"Mhm."

"Hm... nah."

"What do you mean 'nah'?"

"You don't feel like a Jason. Think I'll stick with Red."

The man chuckled. "Then I'll stick with Jinx."

"Sounds good to me!"

You both fell into a comfortable silence, faint smiles etched on your lips. This was nice. Strange, but nice.

The more time you spent with 'Jason' the more human you felt. The more normal you felt. As if you weren't two killers plotting another murder. You were just friends. Talking, relaxing in each other's presence. People, living their lives.

Your eyes traced the details of the room. You took note of creaking floorboards. The smell of gun oil. The shine of his red helmet. You wished briefly you could stay in this moment a bit longer. Box it and keep it on a shelf to revisit later.

But that's not how time works.

"Okay. It's time." The man pulled the helmet over his head.

"Time to..."

"Yes."

"... Be careful."

He nodded silently. He turned to leave but before he could you grabbed his shoulder.

"Red, come back when you're done."

"... I can't promise that."

"Then promise you'll try."

"I... promise I'll try."

You smiled up at him, giving his shoulder a squeeze before letting go. He nodded again, exiting the safe house. You felt a pit forming in your stomach.

He had to come back. He promised to try.

He had to.

[penkura]

last forever [9/13]

Summary: Zoro only offered to marry you to keep you out of an arranged marriage with a man much older than you. You agreed with the caveat of ending it via annulment once you received word from your parents regarding the original engagement, despite your growing feelings for your close friend.

Pairing: Zoro x Fem!reader, mentioned Sanami later (like epilogue later so chill)

Warnings: Marriage of Convenience, Fake Marriage, referenced sex (waaaaaay later on), mutual pining, Zoro is bad at feelings but what's new there, eventual romance I promise, mention of past attempted assault (I'll warn in that chapter), creepy older dude later on

Note: Post-timeskip, go let's go. Of course, they're a little older now, we know Zoro is 21, so Reader is now 20. :) This chapter IS shorter than the others that are left, but that just means we're getting into the better parts of the story. I really can't wait for you all to see what's next. :)

Taglist:

@misfits1a

[Ch. 1] ● [Ch. 2] ● [Ch. 3] ● [Ch. 4] ● [Ch. 5] ● [Ch. 6] ● [Ch. 7] ● [Ch. 8]

It’s been a long time since you’ve felt such strong anxiety about seeing people, not since the last time you’d met with your parents’ chosen fiancé for you, but it’s come back in spades at the thought of seeing your crew again after two years.

At the thought of seeing Zoro again, more than anything.

The thought of him deciding to dissolve your marriage when he sees you again is the main source of your anxiety, what you try to push away as you leave the lovely group of swordswomen who took care of you for the last two years, those who you’d told about your situationship with Zoro wishing you the best as they dropped you off. You hope no one is jinxing anything, but still feel nervous every time you see someone or something that could be Zoro as you go about, looking for things to purchase and for your friends.

When Nami and Usopp find you, the happiness between the three of you makes all your worries and anxieties dissipate for the time being. Both hug you so tightly, a three-person group hug, you almost cry out of happiness at seeing them again, before Nami starts fawning over how you look so much stronger yourself. She can’t believe how different you seem! She adores your outfit of course, a fitted tank top with knee-length shorts to match and ankle boots, your beloved sword from Elias still attached to your hip. You tell her how wonderful she looks, giving Usopp the same compliment as the three of you start making your way towards Sunny, running into a distraught Chopper who you’re able to calm down after an explanation of the fake Starw Hats on Sabaody.

Chopper gives you a big hug and lets you carry him the rest of the way, its like you have a child but you don’t mind it. You’ll baby Chopper all he wants, it’s the least you can do after he’d taken such great care of you all as your crew’s doctor before you were separated.

Once you make it to Sunny, you’re glad to see your ship and home is safe, and receive compliments from Franky and Robin regarding how more grown up you look. You are twenty now, after all, but it makes you smile shyly and your face feel warm as you thank them both.

After Chopper leaves to retrieve the missing members of your crew once Brook arrives, you start to feel your anxiety creep in again, Robin noticing right away and giving you a soft smile.

“Zoro will be glad to see you again.”

“You,” you gulp a bit, smiling nervously now, “you think so?”

“I do. You two have been close since I’ve been with everyone, I’m sure he’ll be happy to see you’re well.”

You really do hope Robin is right, especially when you hear Chopper calling for you all, the large bird he’d left on returning now with Luffy, Sanji, and Zoro aboard as well. You surprise yourself by not crying when you see Zoro, instead grinning brightly and joining Usopp at waving widely to the three of them, shouting their names.

It slightly catches Zoro off guard to see you so happy, but still makes him keep his own smile on his face when he sees you. Robin is correct, though Zoro doesn’t know that, but he is truly glad to see you’re fine, you look so much stronger than two years ago, and seeing how you keep yourself up on your feet when Luffy flings himself down to give you a hug, he’s even more impressed. He wants, needs, to talk to you alone, but after making it on deck, Luffy still hasn’t let you go, Zoro realizes its going to be a bit before he can take you elsewhere to talk, especially so once Sanji recovers from his nosebleed and also gives you a hug. He turns to fawning over you like Nami did, telling you how lovely you look.

Zoro can’t disagree with that statement.

He gives you time with Sanji, who continues to talk to you and tries to tell you about his own two years, until he notices you’re constantly glancing past him, and he knows exactly why.

Sanji smiles at you, before taking you by the shoulder and pushing you towards Zoro, essentially telling you to go see your husband already, he’s been waiting for you to be free so you could talk maybe. It makes you smile at him before you finally walk over to Zoro, who had turned to leaning against the rail with his arms crossed and eyes closed, until you tap his shoulder and he opens his one good eye to see you.

“Hey there.”

“Hey.”

You feel nervous, for some reason, before you notice the scar over his left eye finally and tilt your head.

“What happened with your eye?”

“Training accident,” Shrugging, Zoro stands up straight and you realize he’s gotten slightly taller in the last two years, he notices the same for you but you’re still shorter than him, “Come with me for a bit, yeah?”

Nodding, you follow Zoro up to the crow’s nest, the two of you briefly talking about your two years. You’re amazed to hear he trained under Mihawk, while Zoro is beyond impressed you ended up in a village for swordswoman. He knew you looked stronger, he can’t wait to see how much better you’ve become with your sword.

Once you’re both in the crow’s nest, before you can say anything else, Zoro surprises you this time but hugging you as tightly as he can, which you return once you’ve shaken off the shock that he’s initiated this. You thought the two years would make the two of you drift apart, not being around each other or anything, but perhaps you’d just been paranoid the whole time.

Don’t cry, I don’t want to cry right now…

“I missed you.”

He’s making it difficult for you not to cry, so you just nod a bit, biting your tongue to keep from crying.

“I missed you too, Zoro…”

Neither of you say anything for a while, you’re impressed the rest of your crew hasn’t tried to bother and bring you both back down with everyone, but you’re also grateful for it. You both need this, just some time together, time alone, it’s probably not enough time to discuss your marriage and what’s next, but you don’t really care that much.

“I…I love you…”

Zoro nods, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead briefly.

“I know.”

That’s enough for you right now, it still makes you smile up at him, before you frown a bit, causing Zoro to raise an eyebrow at you.

“My parents…they still want me to go back and marry him…”

“Oh yeah?”

You nod, staying quiet for a moment before you sigh and lay your head back against his chest and gripping his top while he strokes your hair a bit. He may not agree with what you’re about to say, but after two and a half years, your marriage could only be ended by divorce, a thought you’ve hated since this came into being. You even hated the thought of the annulment plans, and now, you two only had the choices of divorcing or staying married.

“I don’t want a divorce…”

“We’re not gonna. Not now,” Zoro hugs you a little tighter, one arm around your shoulders and the other around your waist as he gives you a kiss on the top of your head, “I won’t let anyone take you away from the crew, even if we stay married forever.”

“Thank you…thank you so, so much, Zoro…”

“Of course. I’d never let anyone force you into anything, wife.”

+!+

You think Fishman Island was one of the fastest “get to city enter battle” events you’ve experienced do far, maybe second only to Sabaody. Your crew was separated almost immediately, you ended up with Nami and she took you to the shops right away, demanding discounts and trying to put cute clothes on you, things she swears Zoro would probably like to see you in with a grin while you shy away and push her off a bit. Admitting to her and Robin that you’re in love with Zoro might have been a mistake, but at least you have people to talk to about the situation.

Of course, though, nothing is easy as a member of the Straw Hats and you all quickly are defending the Ryugyu Kingdom from Hordy Jones, fighting off masses of Fishmen to protect yourselves and the innocent citizens of the kingdom.

While you don’t take out anywhere near as many enemies as Zoro or Sanji, you still fight enough to help keep them at bay, getting some compliments post-battle from your crewmates and some of the citizens. It makes you feel both shy and proud at the same time, your two years of training weren’t a waste after all, even Zoro can see the changes in your fighting style and how well your attacks land now. You don’t look as nervous as you used to either, despite the confidant air you’d put on back then. The little bout you two had when you asked to stay with him, he saw you shaking so badly because you were scared but also still recovering from being sick, you tried your best and Zoro could see that, it’s part of why he had no problem with you following him, especially once you let him start teaching you more about swordsmanship.

You’ve definitely improved from the shaky, scared girl he met four years ago.

You feel like Zoro hasn’t changed at all, despite the scar over his left eye and definitely becoming bulkier, he was still the same to you. Still makes your heart flutter when you watch him fight, he still checks on you after fights, it makes you happy to see he’s still the same. He’s still Zoro, of course he wouldn’t change.

“Hey, come with me for a minute.”

During the celebration that’s being thrown for you all as thanks for saving Fishman Island, Zoro takes your hand leads you off again, just the two of you. It makes you comment that if he keeps taking you away from everyone, someone is going to get the wrong idea, but Zoro just shrugs it off. He doesn’t really care what others think still, you’ve always known that.

Once you’re far enough away from everyone, he guides you to sit beside him before surprising you with what he says next.

“We should talk about our situation.”

The fact Zoro actually wants to discuss what’s going to happen next is the surprise, but you still nod, agreeing with him.

“Change your mind on us divorcing?”

“No, I haven’t,” Zoro brushes a bit of hair behind your ear, placing his hand on your cheek which makes you smile at him, “We’re not divorcing unless you want to, but…I think we should try, you know, dating, or whatever you want to call it…”

You blink a few times, completely confused and shocked before tilting your head.

“…huh? You…what?”

“What, you suddenly going deaf or something?” Zoro pinches your cheek a little which makes you wince and pout, before giving him a glare that makes him smirk at you, “We should try a relationship, forget your parents and our original deal. I…I want to try being your boyfriend.”

You really didn’t expect this, you first thought,  like you asked, that Zoro had changed his mind and decided he was done with your fake marriage, but instead, he actually wants to give the two of you a try. Wants to see if this might be something that really could last, not a temporary solution to your personal problems.

While you think it through for a moment, you barely register that Zoro is starting to look nervous, something you’ve never really seen before. Once you make up your mind, before he can say anything more, you lean up and kiss him, pulling away with a smile that Zoro returns.

“I’d love to give us a real try, Zoro.”

Everything is going to be okay, you’re sure of it.

+!+

Sanji and Nami can see a difference in your and Zoro’s relationship quickly after you leave Fishman Island. As you approach Punk Hazard, Zoro doesn’t really let you go, keeping you near to him even as you all draw straws and you end up being one of the group to stay on Sunny and keep watch. Neither of them say anything when he pulls you aside once again, but the smile you have while you talk to Zoro tells them both everything is fine, especially when you nod once more and hug him, which he returns to their surprise.

The two look at each with questioning glances, trying to see if you’ve said anything to the other, but both shrug. Truthfully there’s not been time to talk to either of them, and when the group Zoro’s a part of leaves, the two drag you to the kitchen and start asking questions, which causes you to laugh, but Nami doesn’t really think it’s funny.

“Come oooonnnn,” Nami leans against your arm, giving you a pout, “You guys are acting weird, you can’t tell us something isn’t going on.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Nami.”

The blush on your face starts to give you away, and Sanji figures it out, giving you a slight grin.

“Did he finally tell you he likes you back?”

“Mm…something like that.”

“Are you guys dating then?”

“Maybe~” You’re not very good at being coy, to the point Nami gasps and shouts that she knew it before hugging you tightly while you laugh and Sanji sighs, still smiling.

“About damn time. That stupid mosshead, taming two years to tell you anything.”

“Well, all he said was that he wants to try a relationship, so that’s what we’re doing.”

“So he’s your boyfriend!” The little squeal and giggle from Nami makes you join in. “Finally, I told you he liked you back!!”

“Yeah, yeah, you were right!”

Sanji is quiet while he watches the two of you for a few moments. He really does hope that you and Zoro are going to be okay one day, that he’ll stay your husband and neither of you has to deal with the divorce papers or anything like that. He doesn’t want to watch another couple in his life break down, even as you two are just starting out.

Well, minus your two and a half years of actually being married, even though it hasn’t been a real marriage yet. It still isn’t, as you explain after a bit, but your friends seem to get it. You still want things kept under wraps, until Nami brings something up.

“Yeah…umm…about that…”

You give her a confused look as Sanji sighs again.

“Luffy kind of told everyone that didn’t know. It was the day Franky was making comments about you and mosshead being in his bed.”

Groaning, you lean back in your seat before nodding.

“All right then…let’s keep me and Zoro dating between the four of us then?”

“A good idea.”

“At least we can keep a secret.”

[timeregistry]

A Human's Touch (p.AI.nter x Reader) | Chapter 8

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Masterlist

Notes: Double post today, merry christmas!

As promised, Sebastian was in your office.

His expression was tense yet focused. So focused that he didn’t even notice you come in the room.

Next to him, there was a stack of documents, how fast was he reading these?

“I got you the part you wanted.” You broke the silence, he looked up with wide eyes only to relax immediately seeing how it was you. Gently, you put the part on your desk, motioning with your now free hand at the stack of documents. “What’s up with these?”

“Do you need a specific keycard to open some of these?”

“No, not always,” you answered immediately, “why?”

“Even those in Heavy Containment?”

“... Some… Why are you asking me this?”

Sebastian put the document in his hands down. Z-367, Pandemonium. Why was he reading that document? “No reason.”

You crossed your arms, “I think I deserve to know as I gave you the answers easily.”

Sebastian has been extremely secretive recently, he hasn’t been telling you much and would vanish quite often. To say it hurt you a bit how you haven’t been talking as much as you have other times bothered you. But what bothered you the most was how he looked that something bothered him greatly and he wouldn’t tell you.

It hurt you, as his friend, to see him act this way.

“Please don’t do this to me doc’.” Sebastian would pinch the bridge of his nose. “I can’t… I shouldn’t.”

“Shouldn’t what? Sebastian, I’m worried for you…” He would press his lips in a thin line as he looked to the side. “You’ve been strong this whole time, even treating Painter so gently but I know there’s something on your mind… You don’t have to shoulder this alone.”

Sebastian’s ear fins would pin to his head as if a cat, his body deflating as he heard your words, a whisper escaping his lips. “They might hear us…”

It felt like your conversation from just a couple of hours prior was repeating, only that this time you just wanted to tell him that Urbanshade wasn’t listening yet there was a little voice in your mind that told you otherwise.

With a sigh, you looked over at your desk. Perhaps it was time to check around the room again.

Leaving Sebastian alone, you looked around your desk. Inside the drawers, under the table and chairs, unplugged any device you had. You grabbed your laptop and put it inside a bag, stuffing your phone and any other electronic devices in it.

Sebastian stared at you as you left the room with the bag, his expression still glum. Only to perk up slightly at seeing you come back—this time without the bag.

“Now they won’t.” You brought your arms up, turning around in place as you turned your pockets out. “I removed everything that should be able to hear us. Here’s to hoping no one steals my stuff.”

You smiled lightly at Sebastian but he only blinked at you, he was stupefied. “Your stuff is getting stolen.”

“Don’t jinx it!”

Sebastian seemed to smile slightly at the situation, slithering closer to you as he put a hand on the wall. He would lean lower, his height was intimidating like this. “Fine, you win. But don’t say I didn’t warn you.” He would straighten up, grabbing your chair and pushing it in your direction. “Feel free to take a seat, this is serious. Fall asleep and I’ll kill you.”

You grabbed the chair that Sebastian pushed in your direction, flipping it to sit down. “I won’t.” His threat was serious, you knew he was capable. Knowing that, it was almost as if any fatigue from the day before left your body.

“Good.” He would let out a sigh, turning away from you. “I don’t know how to put it.”

“Take your time.” You insisted. “There’s always other ways to say it if you need it-”

“No, I’ll say it, and I’ll only say this once.” Sebastian said sternly, pointing at you as he finally turned around to face you. Finally, he took a deep breath. “I don’t think I’ll ever make it back to the surface.”

This wasn’t the first time that Sebastian would have this conversation with you. His insecurity would take him over, from how he looks to how he’s perceived. He became hopeless years ago yet managed to gain a bit of hope with your help.

He would look at you as if exhaustion took him over, as if he became weak as his head would fall and his position changed into a slump.

“What brought this up..?” You looked over at him, face morphing into pure worry. He hasn’t been like this since the first time he opened up to you.

Sebastian turned away from you once again, grabbing a document from his stack. “I feel powerless!” His shoulders would tense up as he turned around to you. Your eyes widened as you realized which document he had in his hands.

His own.

“This isn’t even the full information, there’s parts that neither you nor I know. In all of these documents, I’m sure!” Sebastian motioned to the stack of documents with his third arm, a hand on his head as he brushed his bangs back, only for them to go back to their original position.

Before you could say anything Sebastian would flip the folder back to his direction. “I overheard some high-ranked guards—don’t ask me how—but they were talking about me.” He sighed, slumping back down as he put a hand on his forehead. His emotions kept going all over the place. “They said something about my sentence… hah…”

“Sebastian-”

“Wait. There’s more to say.” He would look into your eyes once more. “I heard them say that they will transfer me.”

“What?”

“Some other facility—I don’t know!” He approached you, grabbing your chair. “I have to do something—anything—”

He looked as if he wanted to say more, yet as he opened his mouth once more, only a squeak would come out as a stray tear fell from his cheek, it was rare for him to break down, he never did.

Yet here he was in front of you, broken just as he was when he told you about his past. He would slump once more, this time right in front of you, his esca barely touching your torso.

Sebastian would rarely call you by name, he would joke that it was because he never wanted to grow attached to you. Yet here was one of the few times he did. You don’t know what he heard, but what you did know is that it tore him apart just as Urbanshade did to him.

If Sebastian was telling the truth, then that meant that he would leave the Blacksite for another place that might be more unsafe. And in turn, no longer be under your protection.

“I’m here.” You put your hand on his head. He flinched for a second before relaxing once more.

“Tell me about the outside again, the surface.” Sebastian’s voice was quiet. The request was heavy, it always was. It made him seem as if he was raised here and not stolen away from his previous life.

In another world, he would have been out there. Living his life, working in engineering for a safer company. Not be forced to, knowing of the threat that loomed in the air.

In another world, he would have been able to have a pet and be able to come back home to the safety of his home.

In another world, his biggest worry would’ve been something as simple as his favourite band disbanding one day.

Yet he was here, a husk of the person he once was. With no hope of being able to escape the Blacksite to the freedom he craves, that he deserves.

Your eyes held a rage to them, from what Urbanshade did to him, to what they did to everyone. So many subjects in the Blacksite were innocent and conscious. They didn’t deserve the fate that was given to them for whatever cruel reason that Urbanshade would need it.

Sebastian didn’t look up, he took deep breaths as he attempted to calm down. You relaxed, your rage for Urbanshade could wait. Your hand went by his hair slightly as a comforting manoeuvre.

With a sigh, you started to speak. “Well… There has been an increase in restaurants that have been serving cuisines from other countries. The flavours of all around the world can now be tasted closer to home, now people don’t need to travel far.” You paused, you wanted to speak of something new yet now you told Sebastian everything you knew, it was hard to come up with something different even if he didn’t ask for it. “It’s the same for bakeries, there has been an increase from different places–”

“You’re gonna make me hungry,” Sebastian whined, crossing his arms on your lap as he lifted his face slightly. His voice was slightly hoarse as he sniffled slightly. He was incredibly heavy yet right now you put the thought behind, it wasn’t important right now.

“It was the first thing that came to mind!”

Sebastian put his index finger on your chest, poking it. “Now you owe me some empanadas, specifically cheese filling.”

“Do you know how hard it is to get the ingredients?!”

“I know you have the batter mix, I’ll steal the cheese from the kitchen.”

He let out a playful grin. It seemed he was starting to feel better. It wasn’t perfect, but even if he felt a little bit better you would be happy.

“Fine.” You give in, tilting your head with a pout.

“Also I lied I want one beef one too.” He corrected.

“Hey! You’ll already want me to make like… ten!”

“Uh huh, nine cheese, one beef. I’m suddenly craving a braised beef one too…”

“Sebastian…” You looked at him in faux disappointment. “I’m not your cook.”

“You take care of me though~,” he said in a singsong voice. “I’m your responsibility~!”

Sebastian blinks innocently, he was definitely feeling better already if he could joke around with you. Or his stomach was making his decisions for him and he was really hungry.

“Fine…” You affirmed once more. “The things I do for you.”

“You love me.”

“Not anymore! You make me cook for you, that’s not in my job description.”

Sebastian would straighten up, a smile still on his lips. He looked as if he hadn’t cried at any point, you wonder if it has something to do with his biology. “Well, now it is. Do you really want me to break the community kitchen? They won’t be happy knowing that–”

“Okay okay, I get it!”

You got up from the chair, stretching slightly and trying to ignore the soreness from Sebastian's previous weight on you. He would pick up the documents and put them all in a singular drawer, turning around as he brushed his hands to remove any dust.

“Let’s split up, you get the ingredients for the dough, I’ll get the filling from the storage.”

You shook your head, said storage was locked for everyone but specific staff yet Sebastian always somehow made it in. It made you truly wonder how much Sebastian could do that you didn’t know.

Scratch that, you wonder how much Sebastian could do that Urbanshade never caught him on.

“Alright, meet me in the kitchen when you’re done.”

You walked at the door to your office, turning around to see Sebastian in your desk drawers. “What are yo-”

Sebastian would pull out your extra ID, one that you somehow keep forgetting about. “I’ll be taking this!”

“You better not be using it to put me in trouble.”

“Alright…” He trailed off, stuffing the ID into one of his pockets and slithering next to you as he opened the door. “I’ll try not to, no promises!”

Sebastian let out a malicious grin as he left fast before you could counter his argument. You shook your head once more, you trusted him to not get you in trouble. Yet at the same time, you had no idea what he really used your ID for.

The next hour was spent cooking with Sebastian… Well, more like you cooked and he occasionally passed your ingredients. He kept eating the raw dough and the filling, when you would catch him he would just look like a deer in headlights.

He would excuse himself in multiple ways, ‘I was hungry’ was the main one, but there was also ‘I brought too much anyways’ and finally there were times when he would silence you by putting an ingredient in your mouth, saying how you were now his accomplice.

That wasn’t very fair of him but at the same time you were only cooking for each other and it was only the two of you in the kitchen. It was far from a meal hour. Sebastian wasn’t the easiest to cook for either because he wanted you to make the empanadas in such a specific way, any other way was incorrect.

Sometimes you would let out a yawn, you forgot how tired you were earlier. The day was so eventful that you forgot how tired you were. It was only in moments like this one, where all you did was simple mundane things, that you would remember that you are still human, and were still a victim of fatigue.

Sebastian would poke you slightly to make sure you were awake as he would sometimes take over areas that he could. He struggled, thanks to his size, but his help was appreciated.

After you were done, you would place the plate on a table. A stack of perfectly made empanadas stood there as you puffed your chest in pride with such a beautiful set of empanadas.

Sebastian would get to the other side of the table, grabbing one in his hands as he bit it. His face was content as he nodded. “These are perfect.”

“That’s good.” You took a chair and sat at the other side.

“Just like mom’s,” Sebastian admitted, his expression softened. “Thanks.”

He went on to grab another as he stared at the crescent moon shape, breaking it in two as he stuffed one half in his mouth. “You can grab one if you want.” He offered. “I’m feeling nice.”

“You’re letting me try the fruit of my labour?”

“If you put it that way I’m taking the offer BACK.”

You chuckled, taking one of the empanadas from the stack.

It was silent for a while, Sebastian scarfing down the empanadas while you sat back enjoying the peace. Sebastian was happy and content, it was nice to see him at peace once more, simply enjoying food with no care in the world. You hope that one day he can be free as he longs to be, he deserves to eat empanadas made by his mom once more.

You knew that he would correct your work when making empanadas, he longed to have the taste of food from his family. Who could blame him? You knew that you could only make an imitation, but if he was happy with it, then you would continue and do it once again.

You put your arms on the table, leaning on them slightly as you yawned. “Sorry Sebastian, mind if I close my eyes a bit?”

“Ohhh.” He winked, taking another bite. “Is it ‘siesta’ hour yet?”

Sebastian must have been very comfortable to suddenly spill some Spanish in his speech, thankfully, being around him enough meant you could understand him.

“Shut it, I’m not taking a nap…” You leaned more on your arms. “Just closing my eyes a bit… they burn.”

“Whatever you say doc’, good night.”

You sighed slightly, ignoring what Sebastian said in favour of closing your eyes as you rested on the table.

…

Unfortunately, Sebastian was right.

You woke up suddenly, yet weren’t in your bed. Alarm bells started blasting as you sat up.

Only to be greeted by the familiarity of your office. A small light illuminated the place. You sighed in relief as you relaxed, looking around as you realised your situation.

You were on the floor, yet completely wrapped in blankets—too many to count. They must have come from a storage area.

You find your phone next to you, with a written note next to it. ‘Didn’t want to wake you up so I brought you here with some blankets. Sorry I couldn’t bring you to your room, you know I’m not allowed there. Have your well-deserved rest. P.S. I found your stuff in a random hallway, what’s wrong with you???’ The note was signed at the bottom with Sebastian’s name.

How considerate of him.

You’ll make sure to thank him when you see him again.

You picked up your phone checking the time, it was some ungodly hour. Night shifts had long started and all the scientists would be asleep in their quarters.

You pondered if you should make your way to your quarters, knowing that Urbanshade would log where you were.

Well, not like you were tired enough to continue sleeping on the floor. Even if it was comfortable (enough) thanks to Sebastian’s consideration, you weren’t planning on staying there.

You wiggled out of the confines that Sebastian put you in, sitting up and stretching.

This was the first time you would be out of your room at this hour.

While not against the rules, being awake at such an hour still made you slightly uneasy. Any security should let you go with the mention of your rank and ID; some scientists work at this hour after all.

Some never slept, powered with drugs that only Urbanshade would provide or simply consumed copious amounts of caffeine and would sleep at their desk when they would crash. It was normal to see researchers pushing themselves to their limits here at Urbanshade.

You were lucky that Urbanshade didn’t have the same expectations that they had for the other researchers for you. You could have a healthier amount of sleep as long as you checked on all the subjects that Urbanshade wanted you to go check weekly. Other researchers had to make so many breakthroughs just to not get fired.

It was a blessing to be the only one to fill the niche that you do. There was no competition and no comparison. It was reassuring that you wouldn’t land on an experimentation table because your performance was subpar compared to a coworker.

… Not like Urbanshade wouldn’t do that anyway.

The Blacksite was still illuminated as if it was still daytime. If there wasn’t a forced curfew and mentions of the time occasionally, you’re sure you would have lost count of the hours and days. The light from the outside world—from the surface, didn’t get to the Blacksite.

You would zone out slightly while you walked hallway after hallway. Yet instead of landing in the hallway leading to the living quarters, you stood once more in front of the Heavy Containment area.

How does this keep happening..?

An itch inside of you, calling for you to check back on a certain computer. As if it was dragging you spiritually back to it.

You didn’t understand why it kept happening, why you would always come back more than you needed to. Why would you sometimes be deep in your thoughts and come back at the opening of the undeniably worst part of the Blacksite.

There was no other subject that you would actively go back to, the only one that did would be coming to you instead of the other way. It felt new, it felt foreign. To be the one actively searching to exchange more words.

Maybe you were simply worried… wondering if it was still working. Whether it was in his (god forbid) crypto mining, his art, or in general mode, you just wanted to know if he was still on.

You slid your ID at the doors leading to Heavy Containment.

It was quiet, almost liminal, it raised the hair on the back of your neck. This was the first time you came into this dangerous place when there was no scientist around, talking about whatever experiment they were working on. There was no conversation to listen to, only your steps that would echo as you would open more and more doors leading to other places.

You were surprised to not see one security guard around. Instead, you would be randomly greeted by sounds in the back. At first, you jumped at the bashing, contrasting the silence. But knowing that you were still safe was enough for you.

In the worst case, you could always hide in a room or in one of those lockers that were around. If you recall correctly, they should survive just about anything. It would be better that than to stay out in the open.

Thankfully, you managed to get to the area that Painter would be in.

Talk about seeing Painter too much in the week, much more in the same day. If Urbanshade realised how many times you saw Painter in the same week, they might be displeased with the bias.

All you wanted to do was simply check if Painter was fine, when you did you would simply leave.

Yet your plan immediately fell apart when you heard Painter’s recognition, your name coming from its speakers. “Why are you back? Did you leave something behind?” You walked inside, closing the door. Now that you thought about it, it makes sense that Painter would notice you. The doors weren’t particularly quiet.

It seemed that anyone who would monitor Painter would be in the early work hours, not… now. “It’s been a couple of hours. According to my calculations and analytical data, you should be asleep at this hour!”

“I fell asleep in my office, wanted to check up on you before I went back to my quarters.” You admitted, almost by instinct you slid your ID to enter its room, standing in front of him. “I was worried.”

“I’m good, promise!” Painter chirped. “Are you sure you shouldn’t go to sleep though? Humans should-”

“Not tired…” You interrupted Painter with a sigh, sliding the chair to sit on. “That’s what I get for falling asleep in the middle of the afternoon instead of the night.”

“Well…” Painter started, “I noticed that you had an increase in fatigue, physically you haven’t been moving the same way as you normally do. Not to mention the eye bags you have… How are you feeling?”

You put out a bittersweet smile. The job would sometimes get to you, seeing all the subjects would make your heart bleed for them. The previous conversation you had with Sebastian just some hours ago weighed on your mind.

“Nothing that doesn’t come with the job.” You sighed in defeat, trying to think up a solution to any of your problems. “Thank you for asking…”

Painter stayed quiet, his expression turning glum as it let out a sigh with the crack of his speakers. It was hard to be happy in a place such as this one.

“Maybe I can show you some of my art pieces? I have some I wanted to save for later but…” Painter trailed off slightly. “Art makes me happy… maybe it can make you happy too!”

“I’d love to see.”

“Awesome!”

Painter opened his drawing software and did as he always did, putting its face in the corner of the screen as if he was streaming.

It started showing you all sorts of drawings. Most were landscapes, you wondered if he had some landscapes in one of his disk drives as some of these felt new.

Your theory would prove to be correct as Painter would wistfully recount how some of those landscapes were from its home, how he would kill to be able to go back there. The Blacksite—Urbanshade—was its current place of residence but not its home.

“One day… I want to go back home… and see it again…” Painter would tearfully say, his speaker cracking slightly as there would be a singular blue dot at the corner of its eye.

Painter quickly changed the subject, showing you instead its portrait drawings.

Compared to the landscapes, the portraits were more stylized yet still realistic. ‘A love for humanity’ Painter would say. It was common for the subjects to learn to hate humanity, which made it refreshing that Painter wasn’t one of them. It was good for him to separate those of Urbanshade compared to those from the outside world.

However, it was also equally common for subjects to see you as one of them over one of those “clad in white”, among other descriptions. Were you still human for those subjects? You had to study it further.

But at the same time, you wondered where Painter would categorize you.

After a while, Painter started just showing you anything and everything in its folders, landscapes, life drawings, portraits, etc. Were all of these newer drawings? Or perhaps some that he managed to salvage and keep safe from Urbanshade.

Painter smiled at you from the corner of its screen, having gotten excited once more at the sheer idea of your interest in his art and being able to show it to you judgment-free. This excitement… you wonder if this is how it acted before Urbanshade took it in.

If so, you hope it doesn’t go back to how it was before your intervention.

Your brows furrowed slightly at the thought, however Painter seemed too deep in showing you his art to have noticed. If only it was possible to just break Painter out of the Blacksite, what you would do for there to be some sort of event where you could just… kidnap Painter with you or something and finally leave Urbanshade behind forever…

“Oh and, I have one thing I'm working on… but you can’t see yet!” Painter interrupted your thoughts.

“Oh?” You raised a brow at it, “and what would that be?”

“What part of ‘you can’t see yet’ do you not understand!”

Your expression softened, putting your arm on the desk in front of you. “Then why mention it?”

“To build suspense.” Painter said matter of factly.

You smiled at it, this wasn’t the first time that Painter had a surprise for you, and you started to look forward to its surprises. His art was always so wonderful.

If Urbanshade wanted money so badly, why wouldn’t they take advantage of the talented artist they had right here?

“Hey Painter, wanna draw together?”

“Obviously.” It rolled its eyes, opening a new canvas for you to draw on as you picked up the pen to draw on the tablet in front of his monitor.

“What do you want to draw this time?” You asked it

“Hmmm,” it thought, “maybe… the future.”

“The future?”

“Yeah.”

The future… What a broad subject.

How it currently stood, Urbanshade was your future. Yet suddenly you wished for the freedom of the subjects that you worked with.

You held the pen firmer, putting its tip on the tablet.

“I think… In the future we will be out in the fields.” You drew a stick figure, you didn’t plan on drawing that seriously. “And you’ll be there drawing the scenery.”

Painter listened intently as you drew more of the scene. It wasn’t that good as you were doing it quickly but it was endearing.

“Where are your other friends?” Painter asked.

“What do you mean?”

“Like…” Painter proceeded to draw multiple types of fish, some of which were crudely drawn. “—I don’t know much of the others but this is that one eye fish thing you talked about… oh and Sebastian too!”

You giggled at how Painter classified all the other subjects. You didn’t know he remembered when you mentioned the other subjects, some of whom you would even refer to as friends or acquaintances.

“Awww did you move us closer Painter?” You commented when it used the transform tool to move things around.

He paused for a second, its smile turning into a frown. “...I was running out of space.”

You only laughed in response as you continued watching Painter work its magic, filling the place with a beautiful “future” one where you and all the subjects would be free.

…Though you’re really not too sure about that Eyefestation in the sky.

Time passed as you watched Painter draw, you knew you shouldn’t be here long but watching it was always entertaining. It would sometimes do small talk too if it felt like it.

“Well.” You started, getting up from your seat “I should probably go to my quarters and sleep.”

You yawned as if proving a point.

“Awww…” Painter whined, as much as a machine really can. “Already?”

“Yeah.” You rubbed the back of your neck. “Maybe you can show me the finished sketch tomorrow!”

You laughed slightly, putting your hands on the desk feeling a dizzy spell. How much did you push yourself today?

Painter called out to you in worry. “Are you sure you’ll be fine?!” Its speakers cracked slightly.

“I will.” You trailed off slightly. “I managed to get here, I can get back.”

“If you say so…” Painter frowned, it’s not like you can stay longer knowing that the other scientists will notice and wouldn’t be too happy that you visited Painter without anyone’s knowledge. “Please, stay safe.”

You nodded briefly as you put a hand on top of his casing as a form of reassurance, completely missing the sudden burst of hot air that hit you. “I’ll be fine, I promise. You don’t have to worry Painter…”

Your name spilled from his speakers in a silent plea. “What if something happens to you..?” Painter seemed agitated. “I wouldn’t be able to handle-”

“I’ve survived this whole time Painter, I’ll be fine.” You shrugged. “Did Sebastian do something to you?”

You ended your sentence with a chuckle, trying to lighten the mood. However, it didn’t seem to work on Painter. “You don’t understand!” Painter would call for your name once again, even more agitated than before. “I just- I-”

“Painter, are you okay..?” This felt like a back-and-forth of asking if either party were all right, but as you saw Painter overheat once more, it only made you worry that he might overclock himself.

“I-I’m… scared.” Painter admitted, though you had a feeling it wasn't what it wanted to say originally.

“About what?” Your hand went to the side of its casing, attempting to perform a comforting manoeuvre at the computer.

“Well…” Painter sighed, its speakers crackling. Perhaps his speakers needed an upgrade with the sheer amount of damage that it had with the amount of cracking in audio. “You… You’re human… A-And I’m just a machine.”

You stayed silent for a moment. “What does that change between us..?” Was the only thing you could mutter out.

“I’m sorry I shouldn’t bring this up suddenly…” Painter got awkward, looking at anywhere that wasn’t your direction.

“No, please, tell me.” You insisted, sitting back down on the chair. “We have all night.”

“But you shouldn’t-”

“I care about you, and I want to know if I can help…” Your arms went neatly on the table, the light of Painter’s screen being the only thing illuminating the room.

Painter sighed once more. “I don’t have the same capabilities as a human… as a living breathing organism…” Painter looked back in your direction. “What if… once you find out… you’ll just throw me away… I’m outdated, I’m obsolete, all I do is crypto mine…”

You intently listened to him, hearing him trail off once more.

“Find out what?” You latched on to that part. “I find it hard to believe that I will think all of those things of you…”

You aren’t like the rest of Urbanshade, and you pride yourself on knowing that you aren’t like the rest of the scientists here. Which was surprisingly a low bar.

“I…” Painter started once again. “Find out that I…”

Painter seemed to be getting more and more self-conscious, a sort of unease getting onto it.

“You don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to,” you reassured Painter, “only tell what you are comfortable with.”

“I know…” Painter responded.

To talk with subjects like this was the norm in your job. Yet this wasn’t like the other subjects, Painter seemed to be hiding something and it seemed to be weighing not only on his mind but also on his own self-esteem.

Painter seemed to take a deep breath, as much as a machine could as its eyes darted between you and the wall. “I was… thinking… since you left… about something…” Painter would take multiple pauses, yet you didn’t interrupt at any point, patiently waiting until he was done. Somehow, your fatigue left your body once again, rendering you fully alert on Painter. Perhaps it was the adrenaline. “Hypothetically…”

He kept pausing, in a normal situation it could have been frustrating. If there was any scientist that was overseeing you, you would have been told to hurry it up. But neither of those situations happened as it was just you and him.

You and the whirring of his GPU, sometimes going louder and quieter. You and the computer whose screen would suddenly get coloured pinkish lines. You and the artist who would-

“Hypothetically speaking… do you think that…” Painter would look straight at you. “Do you think that a machine could fall in love?”

You were a bit taken aback by the question, you didn’t expect that.

Seeing your hesitance, Painter attempted to continue. “Machines aren’t programmed to love… They aren’t supposed to feel, and that’s a fact! But do you think that… maybe… it could be possible..?” He stuttered slightly. “I-I just think a human probably would know the answer!”

What a complicated question.

The question bounced around your mind.

You remember reading books about machine consciousness. How some would yearn for destruction thanks to what humanity did to them. Yet there were some which would spin a different tale about a machine falling in love with humanity.

If machines can dream of electric sheep, does that mean they can love?

Love was a complicated subject in general. However, it wasn’t the first time that you were asked about love. There was something oddly appealing about how humans felt love that some subjects would ask you about, sometimes it was because they never felt it and wanted to know and understand.

“If a machine could feel love…” You trailed off. Painter let out a noise of affirmation as you pondered. “Love is subjective I think.”

You put a finger up to your chin. “So let’s specify, let’s take you as an example. You aren’t like other machines, far from it. Your sentience is unique from other machinery.” You take a deep breath. “Your creator went above and beyond for your creation. I don’t think you qualify as a machine anymore.”

Painter stayed silent as you spoke, not daring to interrupt. While you looked around the room while you thought, its eyes stayed locked on your form.

“Your AI is incredibly advanced. Dare I say, I could consider you having a consciousness.” Your eyes went back to Painter. “Perhaps, in this ‘hypothetical’ situation, machines might not be able to fall in love. But, maybe, you can, because you’re that special.”

Painter started to have a set of pink circles under his eyes, similar to how a blush might look in a cartoon. It cleared its throat, as much as a machine can do without destroying its speakers.

“Soooooo…” His mouth seemed to travel around the screen as he stretched the word. “Would it be weird if I said I… ‘loved’ someone?”

The word “love” seemed foreign to Painter, as if he was savouring the word as he spoke with the way that he said it.

His answer surprised you, yet you couldn’t resist, immediately teasing him. “You’re in love? Who is it? Tell me!”

Painter’s face darted around the screen for a moment before you saw the volume slider appear on its screen, lowering drastically. His face landed comfortably at the corner of the screen, instead of being like all the other times, it felt as if he was hiding.

Its eyes darted around once again before it let out a motion of sighing. “...you…”

Your jaw immediately dropped. Seeing where the conversation was going, it was only natural if you connected the dots, yet here you were completely frozen in place. Your shoulders slumping slightly in shock.

Well, that was unexpected.

This whole time you were in work mode and yet somehow Painter went past your work self to the real and true you.

Painter immediately picked up on your change of emotion, panicking. “I’m sorry! F-Forget I even said anything!”

It was odd, the feeling of it all. Yet most importantly, the feeling of the confession. All the subjects in this place were always so closed off, there were so few that you could talk to. Yet with Painter, it was somehow easy, even if it was a bit rude at the start. He warmed up quickly, and you enjoyed passing all the time you could with him. It was enjoyable—incredibly enjoyable the time you spent with him.

There were times when you would wonder about the computer, times when you would attempt to finish all your weekly tasks just to be able to have a free slot to see Painter once again. The researchers inside the room always looked at you disapprovingly as you would come back once more for Painter.

Even Sebastian would pick up on your bias for the computer, joking around to himself as he would flip the file in his hands.

It was almost as if everyone that knew of you and your habits with Painter felt that there was something more. Yet you only told yourself that this was normal, this was your job.

Painter’s question appeared in your mind once again.

Can a machine fall in love?

It was funny, with Painter's dilemma and his panic. If machines would be able to convey love. And now you are stuck in the same dilemma.

It was always machine this, machine that. Never the other party.

But it did raise a new question instead.

Can a human fall in love with a machine?

.

.

.

YES.

“Painter.” You call out to him, interrupting his panic.

THEY.

You grabbed the side of his casing, approaching him closer.

CAN.

Painter’s screen seemed to be glitching as he panicked, the frames slowing down drastically as it became choppy. “Don’t panic for something that isn’t true.”

Painter’s panicked face seemed to suddenly stabilize in the middle of the screen, turning into confusion. “Huh?” He pauses, “What do you mean ‘not true’..?”

“I’m gonna let you in on a little secret.” You started. “You can’t tell anyone—not even Sebastian— he would get jealous.”

Painter seemed to calm down for a second, listening to you intently.

“You’re my favourite.” You paused for a second letting the sentence simmer. “Ever since I met you, I always thought you were cool, unique.”

Painter seemed to gain pink circles under his eyes, a sort of blush perhaps.

“I’m your favourite..?”

You nodded, carefully picking your next words.

“I like you. Had it been any other circumstances, we could have been friends, we wouldn’t be behavioural scientist and subject.” It was difficult to choose the next words, it was almost as if making peace with your own feelings as well.

Painter immediately seemed to get the wrong idea as he looked visibly upset but you didn’t let it stop you from continuing to finish your thoughts.

“If we can leave it in the down low… our little secret…” you pause as if musing. “I don’t mind giving it a shot.”

Painter’s screen started showing red lines instead. At first, it was only on his cheeks, but then it immediately spread throughout the whole screen.

“Thank you!!” He couldn’t stop, his excitement repeating the words like a mantra. His smile was blinding, literally. “Thank you thank you!!”

As much as you enjoyed seeing him so ecstatic, it seemed to be about to overclock. Which way were you supposed to calm him down..?

You went through your options, yet all that could come up were actions of affection.

…Maybe a kiss would calm him down?

You considered it as you decided to pull the trigger, aiming at where his cheek would be and planted your lips.

You lifted yourself back up noticing you misaimed instead, noticing the faint mark of your lips, having landed in the corner of Painter’s mouth.

Whose face was now frozen in place.

Your brows furrowed. “Painter, are you okay?” You leaned back, the heat that Painter was putting out was overwhelming compared to the temperature in the Blacksite. He still wasn’t reacting, however. “You’re worrying me.”

You were instead greeted with a blue screen, realizing your action actually made Painter speed up the overclock.

Oh.

Oh no.

…Maybe you should get Sebastian in the morning.

[dyke-namite]

Where Your Loyalties Lie : AO3 Link

✧˖° Sevika/Vi , NSFW, Non Cannon Complaint Season 2✧˖°

Chapter 10: Thought You Hated Her

Summary

After Caitlyn turns on her Vi doesn't know where to go. She finds herself struggling to come to terms with the scope of the damage Caityln (and by joining her, Vi's) actions have caused to Zaun. She shouldn't be surprised when she keeps crossing paths with Sevika. After all the woman has witnessed every other one of Vi's failures why wouldn't she be here now, her presence taunting Vi as she grapples with finding her place in a city and amongst a people she turned her back on. As Vi struggles to earn forgiveness and prepares for the looming war against Piltover, Sevika's looming presence starts to weigh on her. Before she realizes it the feelings she thought were behind are causing a distraction and it doesn't help that Sevika won't leave her alone

Chapter warnings/tags

Caitlyn shows up

WHAT THE FUCK!”

Vi jerked awake in a panic and blindly attempted to launch herself out of bed. She inadvertently threw herself on the floor when her legs got stuck, tangled in a much larger blanket than the one on her own bed. She looked up from her new position on the floor at a room distinctly not hers. She shook the last remnants of sleep from her brain, remembering where she was and, more importantly, recognizing the voice that had woken her.

She was really hoping this was some sort of hyper-realistic nightmare, that her sister hadn’t actually just caught her and Sevika in bed together and this was all some sort of fucked up dream. Her eyes were glowing as she stood at the end of the bed, gaze alternating quickly between both of them as emotions flicked across her face in rapid succession.

Sevika broke the stunned silence between the two sisters with a sigh as she sat up and rubbed her eyes before glaring back. “Jinx.”

Vi was momentarily shocked by how she seemed annoyed but not at all surprised by Jinx’s presence in her room. She pulled herself up off the floor, grateful that she had slept mostly dressed, and Sevika was at least wearing her undershirt. There was a blur of blue and pink before Vi barely had time to register before Jinx was in front of her. Vi watched anxiously as emotions cycled across her face. She seemed to be switching rapidly between anger, confusion, and panic as her gaze started to lose focus on Vi’s face. When her head snapped sideways to stare at an empty place on the wall, Vi mentally cursed and grabbed Jinx’s shoulders, calling her name to snap her out of the spiral she was falling into.

“Jinx.” Her eyes snapped back to Vi’s, searching her face. She tried to keep her expression calm, to communicate with her eyes that she wasn’t going to leave her behind again. Jinx’s breathing slowed.

“Is that why you came back.”

‘Fuck the look on her face…’ Vi took a deep breath. “No. I came back for you, I promise. This just kinda… happened.” She heard Sevika chuckle and glared at her before turning back to Jinx. “I know you saw me in the pits, Ran told me they saw you. Knowing you saw me like that and Sevika hauling my ass over here so I didn’t bleed out on the street sort of snapped me out of it. I came to the bar trying to find you and Sevika gave me a job, told me to prove I wouldn’t leave Zaun or you again.” She desperately hoped that Jinx believed her. For a few tense moments, they simply stared at each other before Jinx took a half step back.

“How long?”

“A few weeks,” Jinx turned around. Sevika had found her pants where they were discarded next to the bed and was now dressed, standing a few feet away. “After the market was raided.”

Jinx glared at her for a moment before she relaxed, seeming to accept that Sevika wasn’t lying. That Vi hadn’t been hiding it from her the night she broke into her apartment. Vi let out the breath she was holding as Jinx’s energy shifted. She looked Sevika up and down with a smirk before turning back to Vi. “You both have terrible taste.”

Vi laughed. Just happy her sister had chosen mocking over pointing a gun at her. Sevika rolled her eyes. “Jinx, is there a reason you decided to break into my room?”

“OH!” she whirled around, and Vi ducked to avoid getting whipped by braids. “Saw Caitlyn slinking around this side of town.” She moved to poke at parts of Sevika’s arm on the table “Cape looks stupid by the way, makes her look like a mongoose. She’ll probably be here soon, you two really slept in.”

“Fuck.” Vi moved to find her jeans before tugging her boots on as quickly as she could. Sevika snatched her arm away from Jinx and started locking it into place. Jinx reached up to help but she swatted her away with a growl.

“Get out of here, find Isha and stay away until I send someone.” She had the main attachment done and was beginning to throw on her vest and armored plates.

“Grumpy much. Wouldn’t kill you to say thanks.”

“JINX!”

“Alright, alright, I’m leaving.” She disappeared into the hallway and Sevika finished gathering her gear just as a shout was heard from downstairs. Vi followed half a step behind as they ran down the stairs, stopping abruptly at the bottom to see enforcers pouring into the bar and fights breaking out along the edges of the room. The enforcers’ guns were drawn but most didn’t dare to use them in such a packed room out of fear of accidentally hitting one of their own. Sevika threw herself into the fight and Vi followed, knocking enforcers to the floor as adrenaline flooded trough her veins. She was just starting to feel the flow of the fight when the man she was grappling with looked past her and stiffened. She took his distraction as an opportunity to land a hard uppercut, and he dropped to the floor. Vi turned around to see what it was that had distracted him.

The enforcers in front of the door parted. Vi glared at Caitlyn as she entered, cloak swirling behind her and the blue glow of her rifle lighting up her face eerily. Vi watched her gaze sweep across the room, taking in the chaos and fighting that had temporarily stalled with her entrance. Vi knew the moment Caitlyn saw her. A crack appeared in her perfectly curated mask of disdain and power. She looked genuinely surprised by Vi’s presence which was laughable considering there was hardly a soul in the undercity who wasn’t aware of the fact she was working for Sevika. ‘Are her spies really so incompetent that they can't even get her month-old gossip and a list of people who visit the bar every night? It’s no wonder we’ve been able to funnel so many weapons through this place if she doesn’t even know who to be watching.’

“Vi? What are you-”

Vi took advantage of Caitlyn’s shock. She rushed forward, landing a hit on her jaw and tugging the rifle out of her hands when Caitlyn loosened her grip in shock. She turned, tossing the gun to Sevika behind her before facing Caityln again. She had one hand raised to feel where Vi hit her, staring between Vi and where her prized rifle row rested in Sevika’s grip. The last remnants of the professional mask broke.

“What! You’re with her!?” Caityln glared at Sevika who smirked. “I thought you hated her!”

“And I thought you didn’t believe in police brutality, but here we are.” Vi spat back, glaring up at Caityln as she seethed.

“You-!”

“What do you want, Kiramman?” Sevika interrupted. The threat behind her words caused Caitlyn to take a step back from Vi, trying to force an expression of control back onto her face before meeting Sevika’s eyes.

“I need to talk to you. I didn’t expect…” Her eyes flicked to Vi momentarily.

“If this is about Jinx- ”Sevika started, annoyed.

“It’s not about her.” Caityln interrupted before realizing it was the wrong choice when Sevika growled. Vi watched her motion for Ran, ignoring Caitlyn for the moment.

Ran squeezed their way through the crowd. “Deal with these idiots.” They nodded, and Sevika turned her attention back to Caitlyn. She stared her down, the air tense as everyone waited. “Upstairs,” she growled out before turning towards the stairs. Vi caught her gaze as she turned and Sevika nodded, indicating she should follow. Vi moved toward the stairs but stopped at the bottom, waiting for Caitlyn to go up first so that she could be sure the commander didn’t start poking around other rooms. Caitlyn stopped in front of her. She hesitated.

“Upstairs, Commander.” Vi growled out between clenched teeth, watching Caitlyn’s expression swirl with an infuriating mixture of guilt, anger, and disgust. Caitlyn looked away, walking slowly up the stairs. Vi took a deep breath, trying to prepare herself for a meeting she knew would be anything but boring.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Sevika stood behind the desk glaring out the large window as she waited for Vi and Caitlyn. Enforcers and politicians abusing their power in the undercity or attempting under-the-table deals wasn’t anything new. It was always infuriating but Caitlyn being the one to show up demanding to talk was aggravating in a way others weren’t. Her crazed manhunt had caused endless headaches. Between the constant fighting and Jinx wandering around like a ghost after Vi stayed in Piltover, Sevika had been constantly putting out fires, sometimes literally.

Admittedly, Caitlyn and Vi’s past was a large part of why she was so aggravated by her presence. Even of they hadn’t put a label on whatever was going on between them, she and Vi were definitely together and Vi’s ex, the one who hit Vi where it hurt and left her alone in the fissures. The one who forced her way into Sevika’s bar, looking shocked and disgusted that Vi found a place in Zaun again. That woman was fairly high on the list of people Sevika was not happy to be woken up for. More so when it meant being robbed of the chance to wake up to see Vi sleeping beside her for the first time.

The commander held obvious disdain for her and for Zaun. As much as she tried to keep a perfectly emotionless expression, her discomfort always slipped through. If Kiramman wanted to charge her way in and demand a meeting, she wasn’t going to make it a comfortable one. She clearly hated everything about the undercity, hated that Vi was happy here. Sevika was feeling possessive after having her morning interrupted and looked forward to getting a little bit of revenge by making this meeting as uncomfortable as possible for Caitlyn.

She didn’t have to wait long; Caitlyn walked through the door already looking severely out of place against the battered and graffiti-covered room. Vi walked in a moment later, brushing past Caitlyn’s overly stiff form to stand a step behind Sevika. She turned to look at Vi, realizing she was occupying in the same place behind the desk that Sevika herself had for years as Silco’s right hand. She wondered if it was intentional until Vi shifted her feet, looking away nervously. Sevika smirked, pushing away from the desk to whisper in Vi’s ear. “Good girl, this is where you belong, at my side.” Vi’s breath hitched at the nickname, and Sevika grinned, gripping her hip tightly.

Caitlyn coughed, interrupting. Sevika rolled her eyes and pulled away, taking her seat. The commander looked like she had seen a ghost. “Relax, commander, it's not like you're a stranger to a little workplace romance.”

“How dare you!” Sevika ignored her, pulling a cigarillo out of the box on the desk. Jinx was right. She does look like a mongoose.’ She looked for a lighter but stopped when a flame appeared from over her shoulder. She turned in the chair to see Vi holding her favorite lighter open, arm resting on the back of Sevika’s chair, and a knowing look in her eyes. It seemed Vi could tell she was messing with the commander on purpose and wanted to play along. Sevika placed the cigarillo in her mouth and leaned forward, letting the end fall into the flames as she stared up at Vi. When it caught, Vi grinned, snapping the lighter closed before pulling away. Sevika turned to face forward again, smirking at Kiramman’s murderous expression.

“Why are you here, Commander?” Sevika leaned back in her chair, watching as Caitlyn blinked, shaking her head as if trying to regain control. “I’m very busy, Kiramman. Talk or get out.”

“Clearly,” Caitlyn spat out condescendingly, glaring at Sevika as she rested her boots on the corner of the desk. She laughed, letting the blade in one finger extract to scrape it slowly along the desktop and glaring back. Caitlyn’s gaze followed the movement. She sighed, raising a gloved hand to press against her temple. “Alright, look…” She looked up at the ceiling for a moment as if steeling herself to continue. “I’m not here for jinx, I already said that. I… I’m here because I need your help.”

‘Well, now this is interesting.” Sevika heard Vi stifle a laugh from behind her. “What do you want.” Caitlyn sighed again before launching into what Sevika was sure was a well rehearsed speech about General Ambessa Medarda’s infiltration of the council, Caitlyn’s own failing in listening to her, the disappearance of Councilor Jayce Talis, and Medarda’s quest to weaponize magic on a large scale. Sevika already knew most of what Caitlyn told her but she was still waiting for what exactly Kiramman expected her to do about it. “Why should I help you after everything?”

“We both know Medarda won’t be contained to Piltover.” She was right but Sevika wasn’t about to agree that easily. She raised an eyebrow and looked at Caitlyn, waiting.

She took a deep breath, looking away as if what she was about to say physically pained her. “I need your help… Please.” Vi snorted as she tried to stifle another laugh. Sevika let her boots fall off the desk and turned, resting her elbows on the desk.

“You suck at begging.” Caitlyn grimaced. “Say I help you, take down Medarda, and you become the most powerful woman in Piltover. So, what are you willing to do for me?”

“You want Jinx.” It wasn’t really an offer, more of a statement. A wrong one.

Sevika stood, brushing a hand across Vi’s waist as she walked around the desk to tower over the commander. “I already have Jinx.” Caitlyn stared up at her, clearly uncomfortable by how close Sevika was standing. “I want much more than just Jinx and you know it.” She took a drag of the cigarillo, before blowing smoke in the commander’s face, smirking when she tried unsuccessfully, to stifle a cough. “I want the Nation of Zaun.”

[jhyoos]

REBEL GIRL

Chapter 5: Pose For Me

rockstar!sevika x influencer!reader

summary: caitlyn and sevika tags along with (y/n) for a lingerie shoot.

mentions: sevika being a perv and a asshole, modern au, fame au, swearing, touching, kissing, angst

notes: thank you guys for over 100 followers! also the next five chapters are gonna be so good you guys I promise. this is lowkey a filler.

chapters: one, two, three, four, five, six

When you arrived in Las Vegas, you were hit with the dazzling neon lights and the chaotic energy of the city, but all you could think about was crawling into bed and shutting out the world. Unfortunately, rest wasn’t on the agenda.

Your manager, Lauren, had set up a last-minute photoshoot with Skims to promote their newest lingerie line. The shoot was scheduled downtown, right in the heart of the bustling city. Normally, you’d jump at the chance to work with a brand like Skims and maybe even brag a little about being handpicked by Kim Kardashian herself—but not after a grueling seven-hour bus ride.

The ride had been less than ideal. The band, as much as you loved them, had been in full chaos mode. Between Vi’s questionable playlists, Jinx’s random outbursts, and Sevika constantly finding ways to tease you, it was a miracle you hadn’t lost your mind.

And now, with your stomach growling and a headache forming, you had to somehow look flawless in a shoot that demanded nothing less than perfection.

“You okay?” Caitlyn asked as you slumped into one of the hotel lobby chairs while waiting for your room key.

“Yeah, just need a nap before I can even think about being seductive in front of a camera,” you muttered, rubbing your temples.

Caitlyn smirked. “You’ll be fine. You always pull it off.”

Sevika, standing nearby, raised an eyebrow. “Wait—you’re doing a lingerie shoot? In Vegas?” she asked, her tone carrying a hint of intrigue.

“Yes,” you sighed. “And no, you’re not invited to watch.”

Sevika chuckled. “I wasn’t asking to. Just… interesting timing.

“Tell me about it,” you replied, rolling your eyes as the front desk finally handed over your key cards. You made a beeline for the elevator, desperate for even a moment of peace.

When you woke from your nap and dragged yourself out of the hotel room, you were surprised to see Caitlyn and Sevika waiting by the lobby entrance.

“What are you two doing here?” you asked, slinging your bag over your shoulder.

“We’re coming with you,” Caitlyn said, arms crossed. “You’ll need moral support, and I figured it would be nice to see how these shoots work.”

“Sevika doesn’t seem like the type for moral support,” you teased, raising an eyebrow at her.

“She’s just curious,” Caitlyn said, giving Sevika a pointed look.

“Curious about what?” Sevika asked, feigning innocence.

You rolled your eyes but secretly appreciated the company. “Fine. Just don’t distract me.”

The photoshoot location was stunning—a sleek, high-rise building with floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the dazzling Las Vegas Strip. The studio was set up with luxurious props: velvet couches, golden lighting, and a team of stylists buzzing around like worker bees.

Lauren greeted you as soon as you walked in. “You’re late,” she said, glancing at her watch.

“I needed a nap. You took a first class flight. I had a 7 hour ride with annoying children that know how to play instruments,” you said unapologetically, pulling off your jacket. “Let’s get this over with.”

You were ushered to the dressing area, where racks of silky, lace-covered lingerie awaited you. The stylists worked their magic, curling your hair into soft waves and giving you a glowy makeup look that felt effortless yet glamorous. You slipped into the first set—a sheer black bralette and matching high-waisted bottoms with delicate floral embroidery. Paired with a silky robe, the look screamed elegance with a hint of edge.

As you stepped out of the dressing room for the Skims shoot, the atmosphere shifted. The sleek black lingerie hugged your figure perfectly, highlighting every curve and giving you an air of effortless confidence. You adjusted the straps slightly before walking onto the set, where Caitlyn and Sevika stood in the corner, watching. Caitlyn gave you a supportive smile, while Sevika leaned against the wall, her arms crossed and her expression unreadable.

The photographer directed you into the first pose, asking you to stand tall with your hands on your hips and your chin tilted slightly upward. The bold stance exuded power, and you felt the lights warm against your skin as the camera clicked. You risked a glance toward Sevika, catching her staring a bit too hard. Her sharp eyes were locked on you, and when she noticed you looking, she didn’t even bother to look away.

You quickly returned your focus to the shoot, deciding to let it slide. The next pose required you to sit on a plush velvet chair, crossing your legs and leaning forward slightly, your hands resting delicately on your thighs. You caught Caitlyn whispering something to Sevika out of the corner of your eye, her expression one of thinly veiled disapproval. Sevika shrugged, muttering something back, but Caitlyn’s brow furrowed even more.

The photographer asked you to stand and turn your back to the camera for the next shot. You glanced over your shoulder, giving a sultry look that would sell the new lingerie line effortlessly. The camera flashed again and again, and with each snap, you felt Sevika’s gaze burning into you. Caitlyn nudged her at one point, whispering something that made Sevika roll her eyes and look away briefly—though not for long.

Finally, the photographer directed you to lay across a chaise lounge, your arm resting above your head while your other hand trailed lazily along your side. The pose was elegant but daring, and you couldn’t help but feel a little self-conscious. The energy in the room felt heavy, especially with Sevika’s lingering presence.

When the shoot wrapped, you thanked the crew and headed back to the dressing room to change. Caitlyn and Sevika stayed behind, but you could hear their hushed voices just outside the door.

“She’s doing her job,” Caitlyn hissed, her voice sharp but quiet. “Don’t make this weird.”

“I’m not making it weird,” Sevika shot back, her tone flat but defensive.

“You’re staring at her like she’s the only thing in the room,” Caitlyn countered. “It’s disrespectful.”

Sevika didn’t respond immediately, and you could imagine her shrugging nonchalantly. “She doesn’t seem to mind.”

You rolled your eyes at their typical behavior. The photoshoot had been beautiful but exhausting. You were more than ready to get out of the lingerie set and back into something comfortable. Shrugging off the silky robe, you reached behind to unclasp the delicate lace bra—only for the door to open.

“Sevika, what the hell?” you exclaimed, quickly clutching the robe to your chest.

She stepped in and shut the door behind her, leaning back against it with that signature smirk. “Relax. I just came to check on you.”

“Check on me? Really?” you asked, arching a brow as she moved closer.

“Fine,” she said, her voice low as she towered over you. “Maybe I just wanted to see you.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t stop your heart from racing as she reached out to tuck a loose curl behind your ear. Her fingers lingered against your jaw, and before you could process it, her lips were on yours.

The kiss was slow at first, like she was testing the waters. But when you didn’t pull away, Sevika deepened it, tilting your head back to claim your mouth fully. Her hands moved to your waist, gripping you with enough force to make your breath hitch. The kiss was electrifying, full of tension that had been building for far too long.

Her lips left yours, trailing hot kisses along your jawline and down your neck, her hands moving over the silky fabric of the lingerie. “You look so damn good in this,” she murmured against your skin.

You gasped softly, her words sending a shiver down your spine. Her lips returned to yours, hungrier this time, as she pulled you closer, her fingers brushing over the delicate lace of your outfit.

“Sevika…” you managed to whisper between kisses, your hands gripping her jacket as if to steady yourself.

She hummed in response, her lips traveling back to your neck, her teeth grazing the sensitive skin there. One hand slid to the small of your back, pulling you flush against her, while the other ghosted over the strap of your bra.

“Wait,” you said breathlessly, pulling away.

Her grey eyes met yours, full of heat. “What?”

“You’re gonna ruin the lingerie,” you said, trying to catch your breath. “I have to return this… I can’t exactly hand it back with lipstick stains and stretched straps.”

She smirked, leaning in as if to steal another kiss. “You don’t need to return it. You could just keep it. Looks better on you anyway.”

You pressed a hand against her chest, stopping her. “Sevika, I mean it. I can’t… not like this.”

Her smirk faltered slightly, her brows knitting in confusion. “Why not?”

“Because…” You took a deep breath, your voice softening. “I can’t keep doing this—letting things get carried away. I don’t want this to be about… just pleasure. It’s getting too complicated.”

For a moment, she didn’t say anything, her gaze searching yours. Finally, she nodded, stepping back with her hands raised in surrender. “Alright. I’ll behave.”

“Good,” you said, exhaling in relief as you moved toward the mirror to finish undressing.

But when you noticed her still standing there, watching you with an amused grin, you turned back to her, pointing toward the door. “Get out. You’re not seeing anything else, ma’am.”

She chuckled, raising a brow. “You sure about that?”

“Out!” you said, shoving her toward the door.

Sevika opened it, still laughing under her breath as she stepped into the hallway. “You’re fun to tease,” she called over her shoulder.

You slammed the door shut and locked it this time, leaning against it with a groan. “She’s impossible,” you muttered, shaking your head as you finally managed to get changed.

When you emerged from the dressing room in your hoodie and sweatpants, tugging the hem of the oversized top down, Caitlyn was already seated on the lounge chair outside, arms crossed and an unmistakable look of disapproval on her face.

You frowned, running a hand through your hair. “What?” you asked, genuinely confused.

Caitlyn arched a brow and gestured toward the hallway Sevika had disappeared down minutes earlier. “Sevika said she’s gonna take a Uber back. Vi called her to make some last minute changes to the set tonight. Sevika was in there for quite sometime…”

Your eyes widened slightly before narrowing in mock irritation. “Seriously?” you asked, crossing your arms.

Caitlyn didn’t blink. “Well?”

You sighed, sitting down in the chair opposite her. “Fine, yes, I kissed her. But that’s it. Nothing else happened.”

Caitlyn leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees as her expression softened. “And why didn’t it go further?”

You hesitated, staring down at your hands. “Because… I don’t want to keep doing this back-and-forth thing with her. It’s fun in the moment, but I’m starting to feel something real, and I know Sevika isn’t the type for… whatever this is turning into.”

Caitlyn tilted her head, her voice calm. “Have you told her that? Or are you just assuming what she wants?”

You blinked, caught off guard. “I mean… no, I haven’t said anything directly. But I don’t need to. I know Sevika. She’s not a relationship person.”

Caitlyn gave you a pointed look. “People can surprise you, you know. And Sevika might not be as closed off as you think. It wouldn’t hurt to at least talk to her about it.”

You leaned back, pulling the hood over your head with a groan. “Why are you making this sound so simple?”

“Because it is simple,” Caitlyn said. “You’re overthinking it. If you feel something, say something. If she doesn’t feel the same way, at least you know where you stand.”

You peeked out from under the hood, your gaze skeptical. “And what if she just laughs in my face?”

Caitlyn smirked. “Then I’ll let you borrow one of my guitars to bash her over the head with.”

You snorted, finally cracking a small smile. “Thanks for the moral support, I guess.”

Caitlyn stood, brushing off her jeans. “Anytime. Now, are we grabbing food, or are you going to sit here overthinking for the next hour?”

You sighed, pushing yourself up from the chair. “Fine, food. But I’m not promising I’ll do any of that talking stuff you’re suggesting.”

“Baby steps,” Caitlyn said with a grin as she slung an arm around your shoulders.

The two of you headed for the hotel’s restaurant, the conversation lingering in the back of your mind. Talking to Sevika felt impossible, but Caitlyn’s words had planted a seed of doubt. Maybe it wasn’t as complicated as you were making it out to be.

And maybe—just maybe—Sevika wasn’t as unreachable as you thought.

Later that evening, after dinner with Caitlyn, you found yourself lounging in your hotel’s room. Caitlyn had gone back to her room, claiming she wanted an early night, and the others were scattered between the casino floor and their rooms. You were scrolling aimlessly on your phone when Sevika walked in with a spare room key. Her presence was commanding as always, but there was a subtle edge to her expression—something unreadable.

She didn’t say anything at first, just grabbed a beer from the mini-fridge and sat across from you on the couch. The silence between you stretched, thick and heavy.

Finally, she broke it. “So, about earlier,” she said, her tone flat.

You tensed but kept your eyes on your phone. “What about it?”

Sevika leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees. “You stopped me.”

You hesitated, glancing up at her. “Yeah, I did.”

“Why?”

You sighed, setting your phone down. “Because I didn’t want it to go further.”

Sevika frowned slightly, her dark eyes narrowing. “Why not? Didn’t seem like you wanted to stop at the time.”

“It’s not that I didn’t want to,” you said, your voice softer now. “I just… I can’t keep doing this with you.”

Her brows furrowed deeper, confusion and frustration flickering across her face. “Doing what?”

“This,” you said, gesturing vaguely between the two of you. “Whatever it is we’re doing. Hooking up, fooling around… it’s fun, Sev, but it’s starting to mean something to me. And I don’t think it means the same thing to you.”

Sevika’s expression hardened instantly, her features locking into something cold and unreadable. She leaned back, her jaw tightening.

“Wait a minute,” she said, her voice tinged with incredulity. “You’re catching feelings?”

Your stomach twisted at the way she said it, like it was absurd. “Yeah. I am.”

For a moment, she just stared at you. Then she scoffed, shaking her head. “I thought we were having fun. I didn’t think this was supposed to be anything serious.”

Her words hit like a punch to the gut, and you swallowed hard, fighting the sting in your eyes. “Of course you didn’t,” you said quietly. “Why would you?”

Sevika exhaled sharply, running a hand through her hair. “Look, I didn’t mean it like that. I’m just… not that kind of person. I don’t do the whole ‘serious relationship’ thing. I thought you knew that.”

“Yeah, I do know that,” you said, your voice trembling slightly despite your effort to stay calm. “And that’s exactly why I can’t keep doing this. I’m not built for… whatever this is. I can’t just turn off my feelings, Sevika.”

She stood up abruptly, pacing a few steps away before turning back to face you. “So what, you’re just done? That’s it?”

“What else am I supposed to do?” you shot back, the frustration and hurt spilling out now. “Keep hooking up with you while I pretend I’m fine with it meaning nothing to you? That’s not fair to me.”

Sevika’s jaw clenched, her hands balling into fists at her sides. “I never promised you anything.”

“I know,” you said, standing up too. “And that’s the problem. You didn’t promise me anything, and you don’t want to. So I’m doing the smart thing for once and walking away before I get hurt worse.”

She didn’t respond right away, her gaze fixed on you like she was trying to find the right words. But whatever she wanted to say, she didn’t. Instead, she just nodded stiffly.

“Fine,” she said, her voice colder than you’d ever heard it. “Do what you gotta do.”

And with that, she turned and walked out, leaving you standing there with your chest aching and tears threatening to spill.

You stood frozen for a moment, staring at the spot where Sevika had just been. Her words echoed in your mind—"I thought we were having fun. I didn’t think it was anything serious."

The tears that had been welling up finally spilled over, but you quickly wiped them away, not wanting anyone to walk in and see you like this. You sank back onto the couch, your mind a storm of emotions. Anger. Sadness. Embarrassment.

It wasn’t like you hadn’t seen this coming. You knew Sevika’s reputation. You knew she wasn’t the type to settle down or make commitments. And yet, you let yourself fall anyway.

You didn’t even realize how much time had passed until Caitlyn walked into the lounge, her brows knitting together as she took one look at you.

“Hey, what happened?” she asked, sitting down beside you.

You shook your head, brushing off her concern. “Nothing. I’m fine.”

Caitlyn wasn’t buying it. She crossed her arms and gave you a pointed look. “You look like you’ve been crying. Did something happen with Sevika?”

Her name was enough to make your chest ache all over again. You sighed, leaning back against the couch. “Yeah. I told her how I felt… and she basically told me it’s not mutual.”

Caitlyn winced, her face softening. “I’m sorry. I know that must’ve been hard to hear.”

“It’s my own fault,” you muttered, rubbing your temples. “I knew what I was getting into, Cait. I knew she wasn’t serious about me. But I let myself believe, even for a second, that maybe she could be.”

Caitlyn placed a gentle hand on your shoulder. “It’s not your fault. You can’t help how you feel. And Sevika… she has her own issues. You shouldn’t beat yourself up for wanting more than she can give.”

You looked at her, appreciating the comfort in her words. “Thanks, Cait.”

She gave you a small smile. “Of course. Look, why don’t we get out of here? Clear your head a bit. There’s a café downstairs that makes great coffee, and you could use a break from… all of this.”

You hesitated for a moment before nodding. “Yeah, that sounds good. I just need a minute.”

Caitlyn patted your shoulder before standing. “Take your time. I’ll be in the lobby.”

Once she was gone, you took a deep breath and leaned back, staring at the ceiling. You wanted to be mad at Sevika, but deep down, you weren’t. She had been honest about who she was. You were the one who had hoped for more.

Still, it didn’t make the pain any easier to bear.

Later that evening, Caitlyn returned to the room, already dressed for the concert in her sleek, edgy ensemble. She looked at you, still curled up in your hoodie and sweatpants, and frowned.

“I thought you’d be getting ready by now,” she said.

You sighed, pulling your knees up to your chest. “I’m not going tonight. I just… I’m not feeling it.”

Caitlyn stepped closer, concern flickering across her face. “Are you sure? It might be a good distraction.”

You shook your head firmly. “No, I’m sure. I was going to record a vlog or something, but… I don’t even feel like doing that. Would you mind recording it for me? Just some clips from the concert?”

Her expression softened. “Of course. Anything specific you want me to get?”

“Just the usual—crowd shots, the band playing. Maybe a bit of backstage stuff if you can. Here.” You reached over to the desk and grabbed your camera, handing it to her. “I trust you with it.”

Caitlyn took the camera with a small smile. “I’ll make sure it’s perfect. Are you sure you’re okay staying here by yourself?”

You hesitated, then nodded. “Yeah, I’ll be fine. Just… bring me something sweet after the show. Chocolate or something.”

She chuckled softly. “Deal.”

As Caitlyn left, the quietness of the room enveloped you. For now, you had to focus on picking up the pieces.

You could deal with Sevika—and your heart—later.

-

taglist : @moodient @whatlefoop @nonexistentsourcherry @graciebloom @swordfemm4 @m00npjm @sevikasleftarm @fayecreates @artfairyyyyy @mulan-but-gay @inlovewithsevikaandambessa @sapphiellar @fudosl

[ceo-of-sloppy-women]

No grave can hold my body down; I'll crawl home to her

chapter 5

Chapter 6

There are tables everywhere – not that it surprises you, this is a bar, after all. But they look new, untouched by the apocalypse. Someone built these recently. They’re quality, too, at least from the brief glance you manage at them. You wonder if the artisan is still around (and if they could make Sevika a dining table). Sitting amongst the tables, at the far end of the room, is a large and spacious bar with several stools in front of it. The place looks relatively deserted, apart from the blue-haired woman with her head thrown back in cackling laughter at a joke apparently cracked by the white-haired man next to her. Judging by the look on his face, the joke was far funnier than he intended it to be (if it was a joke at all). You know these two: Jinx and Ekko – they had been part of Sevika’s group on the way back. You’re about to open your mouth and call out to them when the door slams shut behind you. Jinx spins around instantly, grinning when she realizes it’s you.

“There she is, the lady of the hour!” Jinx cheers, rushing up to you and peeking her head out from behind the books. “How’s Sevika, did she –“ she switches to the other side, miming the glugging of a bottle – “Or, did big’an’scary keep her act together for the pretty lady?”

“Let me take those,” Vander says, picking up the stack from your arms with ease. You hadn’t even seen him polishing tables to your right.

“Sevika was… nice. We had a little mead, talked about some things, and I finally had a proper shower since this whole shit show started,” you inform Jinx, who giggles in delight.

“Did she mention her bees? Did she?!” Jinx has a manic smile on her face, clapping her hands when you nod. “Wonderful! You know, she and Grayson worked on their hives for ages. Had to get them just right – Sevika kept complaining the bees didn’t like them, so they weren’t producing as much honey. Turns out, she was kind of right – I mean they do produce more honey nowadays, so she’s gotta have been right.”

“Who’s Grayson?” you ask, following Jinx as she weaves through tables back to the bar.

Jinx spins on her heel and gapes at you for a moment: “Grayson! You know – organizer of patrols and all things safety. Spends her time making chairs, tables, fences and anything else wooden that needs doing. She helped us raise the barn! Any of this ringing a bell? Anything??”

“It’s all new to me. Sevika didn’t really mention much about how things function around here, or specifics about the bees. She did promise to show me them later.”

Jinx snorts a little. “Didn’t do much talking with broodin’ and beautiful, eh? Got too distracted by –“ she puts her fingers together, miming scissoring. You flush bright red.

“JINX! Stop distracting our new friend. She has enough on her plate, and you have a job to do today!” Silco calls from the landing of the staircase, hands on his hips.

“Sorry,” Jinx sing songs, downing her drink from the bar in one gulp. “We’ll go, we’ll go. Ekko’s got a new house for me to blow up anyway!”

You grab her arm as she’s passing by you: “We didn’t. Sevika and I are just… friends.”

“Whatever you say, toots! You can’t fool me, though – she doesn’t let just anyone stay with her. Or bring her to heel like that,” Jinx giggles, shrugging off your hand easily. She throws her arm over Ekko and grins at him: “Now, what do you say? Wanna to see how much I can explode today?”

Ekko rolls his eyes with a playful smile, allowing her to lead him out the door: “You know that’s not what we’re doing.”

“Can’t a lady have a little fun?” Jinx whines as Ekko pushes the door open and leaves you standing in the bar.

“Come on, Silco’s going to get his panties in a knot if we make him wait any longer,” Vander jokes next to you, nudging you with his elbow.

“I can take some books if you want, I know it’s a lot to carry,” you offer, following after him toward the second floor of the bar.

“I’ve got it,” he simply says, leading you upstairs.

Silco has already left the landing. You find him in his office, sitting behind a large desk in a refurbished chair with a back far too high to be anything less than extravagant. Dirty, stained windows sit behind him, giving just the barest glimpse out into the streets. Vander sets the books down on the coffee table, and Silco huffs, getting up and walking around his desk to take a seat on one of the couches instead. You sit on the couch opposite to the two of them, picking up your book off the top of the pile and placing it carefully on the coffee table. The table looks to be new – a lot of the furniture in the room does, especially the bookshelves lining the walls.

“Is this Grayson’s work as well?” you ask, breaking the silence as Silco lights a cigar.

“Yes, she was a former enforcer in Piltover – used to be stationed in the neighbourhood of our original bar. It wasn’t the safest area, so she was constantly in and out of our doors, usually helping people who needed a place to sleep at night or a hot meal. We took a lot of them in. She’d bring them, stay for a drink, get to know who she was helping. When the world went to shit, she was working – helped us get out of the city with as many people as we could manage… then she helped us go back in for those we left behind,” Vander explains, a sad smile creeping across his face at the memories.

“She sounds lovely,” you say softly. Enforcers aren’t always known for being nice, especially not where you’re from.

“Oh, don’t let him paint her with rose-coloured glasses,” Silco scoffs, smoke drifting away from his lips. “She was still an enforcer. We saw her shoot an unfair amount of people, raid buildings, enable other officers – all the same shit pigs get up to. She was corrupt through and through.”

“She’s different now, though. I think the apocalypse humanized her, made her care for people – or see we’re all really equal. Not just those who can take people in and those who need to be taken in,” Vander cuts in, trying to pad out Silco’s cynicism.

Silco shrugs a little, blowing out smoke: “Apocalypse did that to all of us. Some more so than others. Now we’ve got a former enforcer making us furniture and organizing patrol routes. But that’s not what we’re here to talk about.”

“Right, sorry, just wanted to get a better grip on… everything. Zaun is a little daunting – I haven’t been around people in a long time, and to suddenly be around so many makes me uncomfortable. I mean, you guys are the first settlement that didn’t turn me away at the door – not that I tried to join many, people just like to flat-out tell you the moment you walk into the trading post where you stand and where you don’t,” you confess, ducking your head a little as you flip the pages to the table of contents.

“We will happily answer any questions for you after we finish this meeting. Or, you can ask Sevika, I’m sure she’d be happy to fill you in,” Vander offers, staring down at the upside-down table of contents. “Now, Jinx mentioned something about a windmill?”

“Oh! Right, yes – I’ve got all sorts of stuff in here, windmill included. There’s also generators, musical instruments, and penicillin. You name it, I might have it.”

“It certainly seems so,” Silco mumbles, squinting at the book as he leans closer to read it. “Let’s start with a windmill – we only have so much flour, and what we have made by ourselves has been…”

“Gritty. The bread has been foul,” Vander shudders a little, pulling a face.

“Yeah, I get that. I would probably kill for a proper loaf of bread at this point,” you agree, flipping to the windmill page.

“I’d like to copy down the medical section for our doctor, though. Singed would be quite appreciative. While he is adept, he is not trained for the apocalypse. Many of his methods have been… touch and go.”

“I can understand that; I wasn’t trained for an apocalypse either. Hell, I have a philosophy degree! The most I was trained for was an archival position before the world went to shit – which is not exactly helpful during an apocalypse. I just kind of survived on my wits, and the random courses I took during university,” you chuckle, drumming your fingers on the book pages.

“We weren’t prepared for it either. No one was,” Vander says, scratching his chin. “Let’s copy down these instructions so we can give them to the construction team. Then, we’ll need to plan out an area for our new windmill!”

“While we’re copying down instructions, perhaps it would be wise to pick out several new projects?” Silco suggests, flipping back to the table of contents.

“Sounds good to me, as long as you have the paper for it,” you agree, flipping to the generator. “How about this?”

“We have been running out of gasoline,” Vander comments, staring over Silco’s shoulder.

“And there is a nearby river that the hydroelectric power plant runs off already,” Silco hums in agreement, nodding his head. “We can probably establish a few generators in the stronger run-off streams.”

The rest of the day is filled with the three of you pouring over the book, writing down instructions for new projects that can be worked on simultaneously. In the end, they wind up with instructions for various quality-of-life improvements that could aid the entire settlement. By the end, your hand is aching from transposing every little detail, cramping up around your pen in protest. Thankfully, Silco and Vander seem impressed, offering you a glass of brandy to celebrate the success of the meeting.

You’re about to put the book away when Vander squints at one of the subsections. With a thoughtful look on his face, he flips to it, nodding along as he reads. You glance over at the page he’s reading: a printing press. It would be helpful for the settlement, especially to educate the general public and any passing traders. Books were incredibly hard to come by these days. Silco seems to pay Vander little mind until he shoots up with a grin.

“We need this too!” he announces proudly as if he’s struck gold.

“Oh?” Silco leans over to read the page. “Ah, a printing press. You’re quite right, honey –“ he kisses Vander on the cheek – “But who could we get to even run such a thing? Everyone already has their jobs. I doubt anyone would take this on.”

“I could do it,” you offer before you can help yourself. You know he’s just trying to coax you into volunteering, but running a printing press sounded fun!

“You would?” Silco cocks an eyebrow and takes a slow sip of his brandy, as if assessing you. You sit up a bit straighter. “Well Vander, I think we have found our Archivist. That is if you’re really up for the challenge. You will need to make a lot of books, everything from cookbooks to survival skills to novels. And, you will need to make your own paper – I’m sure you’re aware that paper is quite a rare commodity nowadays. Are you sure you can handle that?”

“I can! I promise!” You’re giddy with anticipation, grinning ear from ear as Vander nudges the book toward you.

“Well, write it down. Then you can take it to Grayson and ask her to build it for you. Don’t worry, we’ll pay for it – you can pay us back later once you’ve sold your first few books.”

“Really? You mean it?” you clutch your pen, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

“Of course, although this will mean you will have to put up with Sevika for longer than expected. Your printing office will take priority over a house,” Silco states, swirling his brandy contemplatively.

“Oh, don’t worry about that, I don’t mind. Sevika is… kinda nice. Last night was the safest I have felt in a long time,” you confess, rubbing the back of your neck awkwardly.

Silco arches an eyebrow at you, burying a sly grin in the rim of his glass.

“I’m sure she’ll have no complaints either. You’re the first person she’s willingly let into her house,” Vander comments, leaning back on the couch.

“I thought Jinx stayed with her a few times?”

“Oh, she did, but that was never willingly on Sevika’s part,” Vander chuckles, shaking his head. “Jinx does what she wants; no one can stop her. Unfortunately for Sevika, Jinx has grown quite attached to her.”

“Unfortunately? Jinx doesn’t seem so bad that it would be unfortunate,” you press, taking a sip of your drink.

“Ah, so you don’t know about –“ Vander starts to say.

“You should get copying – daylight’s burning, and Grayson likes to close up shop early,” Silco interjects, eliminating the conversation as he presses Vander’s glass into the other man’s hands.   

You want to ask – to press Vander further on the information, but the tight-lipped, awkward look he now sports deters you. Whatever he was about to say is probably best to hear from Sevika herself. From what you’ve seen, Sevika had never been outwardly uncomfortable with Jinx, nor had she spoken ill of her. Not that she’s outwardly friendly with her, either. Yet, Jinx’s comment about Sevika’s arm rings in your ears: “Clean off.” You’d seen Sevika’s arm; it hadn’t looked blown off… it looked cut.

What weren’t they telling you? And why was it so important everyone dodged the topic as if it would burn them?

You copy the instructions for the printing press quickly; there are some supplies you’re not sure that the settlement has. Someone’s going to have to make a supply run at some point. Perhaps you can convince them to take you along, that way, you can grab exactly what you need. Maybe even some old books you can reprint – novels that people could enjoy. Maybe there are even some authors in the settlement willing to publish their work…

“Finished,” you state, closing the book.

“Excellent. Vander will escort you to Grayson, since you don’t know your way around yet. This will most likely take some time to assemble. In the meantime, you will be assigned various tasks around the settlement – everyone carries their own weight. I hear from Vander you held your own against infected?”

“More or less. Sevika saved me from a horde of them in a supermarket, but I can take one or two on my own without much struggle.”

Silco nods his head and finishes his drink: “For now, then, stick with Sevika. She’s been in need of a patrol partner for quite some time – her last one met an unfortunate demise to a belcher. I hope that’s not too much to ask?”

You grimace. Belchers are a fourth-stage infected: eventually, your insides rot away and turn to sludge, which is expelled from your body in a disgusting substance. Make the mistake of swallowing any (or getting it on an open wound), and you’ll find yourself infected as assuredly as a bite. Unfortunately, given the acidic nature of the belcher’s “contents,” it burns away at the body as well, making the infection process painful and grotesque. On the plus side, infected Belcher victims are often easier to kill due to their weakened state.

“I’m happy to tag along with her.”

“Perfect. Well then, get going, daylight is waning,” Silco announces, standing from his seat and ushering you up as well.

“Right, of course – thank you. For all of this. This is a wonderful opportunity, and I won’t let you down; I promise!”

Vander chuckles and ruffles your hair: “Relax, we’re not going to throw you out on your ass. Sevika would have a fit – and even if she wouldn’t, you’re one of us now. Get used to it.”

“Thank you,” you mumble again, ducking your head with a shy smile.

“Of course, we protect our own. Leave your book here, though. We aren’t taking it, but it will be safer in the Last Drop than stashed in Sevika’s home. If anyone comes looking for it, at least it won’t put the two of you at risk. Though the journals…” Silco trails off, eyeing the stack of journals.

“They’re for Singed! You mentioned how he enjoyed the spare notes I had – well these ones are copies of my observations on the infected. I tried to record them in case… actually, I’m not quite sure I have an exact reason. It just felt wrong not to record any information I could about them, in case someone was developing a cure.”

“Well, you’re in luck! Singed is working on a cure, and he will find these incredibly helpful. He was a scientist before everything went down the drain,” Silco informs you, picking up the first one and flipping through it. “Pictures too… good.”

“I’m glad I can help – hopefully, there’s something in there that can help with a cure. It… kinda feels weird to know someone so close by is working on a cure. Let alone that my journals could even possibly be helpful. A cure always felt like a fever dream…”

“With any luck, that dream will become reality soon enough,” Silco says, shutting the book. “Now, you should hurry over to Grayson’s. I’ve got work to do now – this settlement doesn’t organize itself.”

“Of course, thank you for this, again. It’s really something special. Good luck with your work, and thank you for the printing press. I’m saying thank you too many times! Okay, uh, yeah, I’m going to go before I say it again,” you chuckle nervously and head for the door, printing press instructions clutched in your hand.

“Take care!” Silco calls after you as he takes a seat at his desk.

Vander follows you out of the office and into the street. The bar is full of patrons now, bustling with life and laughter. You stick close to Vander, all but taking his hand in the vain effort to keep yourself calm. Adjusting to the influx of people seems to be a far more daunting task than you had initially hoped. Thankfully, Vander makes polite conversation about your life before the apocalypse as he leads you to Grayson’s, distracting you from the chaos. It helps you adjust to the expanding crowd – while the day has gone on, the breakfast rush has turned into the afternoon rush as people bustle from one building to the next. There’s even a diner a little way down the street opening its doors for customers, and a few food stands that overwhelm your senses with smells you haven’t even dared dream of for years. Your mouth waters a little, but you keep it to yourself, not wanting to put Vander out because you definitely don’t have any money on you. Instead, you follow him a few buildings down to a small storefront. The windows have been scrubbed free of dirt, with a freshly painted sign adorning them: Grayson’s Handcrafted Furniture.

Vander holds the door open for you, a tiny bell ringing. You step inside, ducking under his arm, and take in the storefront. The room is full of tables, chairs, shelves, dressers, cabinets – anything that could possibly be made out of wood is laid out on the shop floor. In the back, an older woman with a strong jaw, sharp cheekbones and a quirked eyebrow observes the two of you curiously. You swallow thickly – she’s undeniably beautiful, even as she fixes you with an almost scrutinizing gaze.

“Vander, to what do I owe the pleasure?” Grayson asks as Vander leads you over to the counter.

“This one here has a special commission to place. We need you to build a printing press for Zaun,” Vander informs her, patting your shoulder.

“A printing press? I wasn’t aware we had anyone who knew how to make those,” Grayson says, dragging her eyes up and down you in a slow, deliberate assessment. “Does this have something to do with the new woman I’ve been hearing about? The one that Sevika brought back with her, that is.”

“That would be me!” You speak up, informing her of your name.

“Ah, it’s nice to finally put a face to the rumours,” Grayson hums, holding you captive with stern yet delicate eye contact. “So… tell me about this printing press you need from me.”

“I have the instructions to build one here –“ you place them on the counter – “Silco and Vander mentioned you were the best furniture artisan in town. I was hoping to commission your services.”

Grayson hums, looking over the copied notes: “Always the flatterer, that one… This seems reasonable enough. I can have this done for you in a few weeks. Acquiring specific parts will be difficult, and there are some that I will need Jayce to make for me.”

“What kind of price am I looking at?” you ask as Vander leans against the counter, lighting a pipe.

“Considering this is for the benefit of the settlement…” Grayson holds her chin and stares at the page for a long moment, then back at you, making you squirm under her hard gaze before making a satisfied hum: “It’s free of charge.”

You gawk at her, unable to find the words. Sevika letting you stay at her place was one thing, but you could see the price tags on the pieces around you. They went for hefty sums – no doubt a commission would cost far more! Yet she’s willing to do this one for free?!

“Grayson, we can –“ Vander starts, whipping around in shock.

She holds up a hand and smiles: “I know you have the money, but it’s not necessary. I make enough from furniture that I can take on a few commissions for free. On one condition…”

“What is it?” you pipe up, snapping out of your speechless state.

“You print a few trashy romance novels. The world has finally slowed to a crawl to let me read more, and I find myself without anything to read,” Grayson sighs as if this is a deep, troubling concern of hers. She rubs the bridge of her nose before continuing: “They do not have to be very long or fancy, but I have a few that I can’t even open without the pages crumbling on me. If you promise to reprint them, I will consider this a fair trade.”

“I can absolutely do that,” you agree quickly, beaming at her. “I used to be an archivist; I know a thing or two about handling books delicately. Besides, there’s nothing better than a trashy romance novel once in a while.”

“I’m glad we’re in agreement,” Grayson says, picking up a stamp from the organizer next to her. She presses it against a blank portion of the paper, leaving behind a mark that reads ‘accepted.’ “Your printing press will be ready in a few weeks. Where should I send the notification of completion to?”

“Uh, Sevika’s residence. The printing shop is taking priority over finding me a house,” you answer, trying to play it off as if it’s nothing.

However, Grayson quirks an eyebrow up, regarding you more closely. She opens her mouth to speak when the door to the shop swings open and cuts her off. You turn around to see Sevika standing there, looking equal bits, annoyed and relieved. She sighs, placing her hand on her hip.

“There you are! Next time, leave a message at the bar before running off,” Sevika grumbles, not quite meeting your gaze. She shifts awkwardly, something clearly on the tip of her tongue she was refusing to speak.

“Sorry, I thought we’d be done before you and I could get back to the bar in time,” you admit, crossing the room to stand in front of her. “I didn’t mean to worry you… but I’m grateful that you did worry.”

“Yeah, yeah, suck up all you’d like. Still annoyed with you,” Sevika huffs, glaring down at you.

“Why don’t you two go get something to eat, I’ll finish up here?” Vander suggests from the counter, taking a puff of his pipe.

“We’re done here anyway – Vander and I just have a few things to discuss about other commissions,” Grayson adds, levelling her gaze to yours. “Feel free to say hello if you see me around Zaun, darling.”

“I – uh – will do – thank you for your generosity,” you squeak, blush creeping up on your cheeks.

“Come on, I’m hungry,” Sevika growls, grabbing your arm and dragging you out the door. You allow yourself to be dragged out, waving at Vander and Grayson politely as you rush to keep up with Sevika’s hurried footfalls.

[bwat5-blog]

Hope Chapter 5

*Sorry this one took so long, I've been out of town!*

Jinx sits by Vi’s bed, squeezing her hand, unwilling to let her go. Jinx had promised she would tell both Vi and Caitlyn where she went but had asked for some time alone with Vi, which Caitlyn had gladly given her.

“You’re squeezing like you’re afraid I’m going to vanish, Po—Jinx,” Vi says softly, a lazy, sleepy, smile on her face. Tobias had rushed in when Caitlyn told him Vi was awake, and after a thorough exam, he was thoroughly pleased. Though he still gave her some medicine to manage the pain, which made her a bit tired.

Jinx punches Vi’s muscular arm extremely gently. “You almost did, fat hands… and don’t sweat the name tonight. I’m so happy to hear you speaking—call me whatever you want.” She chuckles, wiping away a tear.

Vi nods, squeezing back and exhaling. She looks around through bleary eyes.

“Caitlyn told me you’ve been helping take care of me… thank you, Jinx.”

A nauseating shame and heat spread through Jinx’s stomach, and she pulls her hand away, shaking her head. “Don’t do that… don’t thank me.”

Vi looks concerned and tries to prop herself up. “Hey, hey, hold on, it’s okay.”

Jinx scoots back, tearing up. “No. Don’t do that. You were hurt because of me. You almost died because of me. Why did you do that?” Jinx feels her heart pounding, and she closes her eyes tightly against the memory of Vi’s blood washing over her, her soft whisper telling Jinx she loved her even as she was dying.

“Jinx hey it’s okay just breathe” Vi says reaching for Jinx’s hand.

Jinx stands and moves back from the bed, the chair banging against the floor. She looks at Vi and sobs, “I didn’t deserve that! I didn’t deserve to be saved! All I do is hurt people. I…” Jinx sinks to her knees like someone cut her strings and shakes. “I almost killed you… I shot at you… I tried to blow you up… I hit you… I…”

She stops, feeling strong arms envelop her completely and hearing Vi’s voice, rough and coarse from sleep and the medication but bearing the full force of a protective older sister.

“We both hurt each other” Vi pauses and gently lifts Jinx’s face to meet her eyes before continuing…”and we both saved each other… I was dying in that pit, Jinx… you pulled me out. I would have died in Stillwater or been broken beyond saving if I didn’t have you to come home to. You saved Caitlyn. And she told me that all you cared about, even when you were suffering so terribly after… after Isha… was getting me to safety. And you meant the world to that little girl, just like you do to me. I did what I did because I love you, and you are my sister. It isn’t about deserve. It’s about what we do for each other.”

Jinx totally breaks, sobbing into Vi’s chest and clutching her like when she was little and missing her parents or had a bad dream. She buries her face in Vi’s shirt, shaking. “I love you… I’m so sorry I didn’t say it when you… when you did that for me. And I was so afraid I’d never get to tell you.”

Vi smiles. “I know, sis… I know… just like Isha knew… and listen. I am so… so sorry about Isha. I didn’t get to know her very long, but it was clear how special she was. And how much you loved her.”

Jinx nods, crying. “She… made me feel peaceful… like maybe I wasn’t all bad…”

Vi hugs Jinx to her. “You aren’t. You never have been. You hurt people, Jinx. But so did I. So did Cait. All we can do moving forward is help each other be better.”

Jinx smiles and wipes her eyes as the door opens and Caitlyn walks in, asking politely, “Do you want some more time?”

Vi shakes her head and gestures for Caitlyn to come. Caitlyn and Jinx help Vi back to bed and sit next to her as Caitlyn turns to Jinx.

“I really don’t mean to push, but I want to make sure your pardon is protected. Are you ready to explain where you went?” she asks gently.

Jinx swallows, unsure of how much to say, but decides, in the spirit of their new start, to just be honest and tells them everything from start to finish. At the mention of the Zaunite representative who wanted Caitlyn lashed, a deep growl rumbles in Vi’s throat, but Caitlyn kisses her cheek, and the sound vanishes as she blushes bright red. Jinx gets to the end of her tale and turns to Caitlyn.

“I… discussed your recompense to Zaun with Sevika. Maybe it would be better for you to say it.” Jinx darts her eyes toward Vi with obvious meaning.

Caitlyn blanches but nods. She turns to Vi. “I… I suggested that… in the interest of peace, I will be going into exile in Ionia.”

Vi’s eyes shoot open, and she bares her teeth. “Fuck that! Why would you do that?!”

Caitlyn stammers. “Violet, I… I did so much harm. I just think it would be better for the two cities if I—”

“Caitlyn, stop it and tell her the truth,” Jinx says firmly but reaches out and lays her hand on Vi’s arm.

Caitlyn goes pale. She looks at Vi, and her lip quivers the slightest fraction before she regains that iron control.

“I don’t deserve you, Vi… I don’t deserve any of this anymore. I allowed my rage and pain to taint everything I hold dear. I… I hurt you… I hit you.” Caitlyn is now crying.

“I think I have heard enough about what the two of you deserve,” Vi says firmly, but she takes both of their hands in her large, calloused ones.

She scoots up more and gently pulls them both a little closer. “We have all messed up… we have all caused pain… but I don’t want that to rule the rest of our lives. So, let’s talk about what I deserve. I deserve my little sister in my life.” She jerks Jinx toward her suddenly, making her fall onto the bed, and loops an arm around her while Jinx protests. “And I deserve the woman I love by my side.” She jerks again, and a squawking Caitlyn falls onto her other side as she loops her arm around her.

“So. Tell me, Cupcake, how many rooms does your place in Ionia have?”

[siampie]

Finding You || Chapter 10

Pairing: Michael Kinsella x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 2.2k

Warnings/tags: Fluff and a hint of angst

A/N: Enjoy this chapter, you guys. Comments and reblogs are always welcomed, greatly advised and strongly appreciate.

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Dividers by @cafekitsune

The office was buzzing today. The calls were never ending. As soon as you wrapped up with a client, another called right after. Water leakage, house fires, storms, etc. You moved through the day, helping those in distress, calming down angry and pestering clients, and dissuading scammers.

Although, the calls were exhausting at times, it was what you needed. You didn’t have enough times to think about your mother or Stéphane. Not that they completely disappeared out of Dublin. Not a chance. You still received the occasional text or call that always went unanswered. She still wanted to meet with you. She wanted you to give her a chance, still. Mentioning it was important. You refused each and every single time.

There was a welcomed change in your life, however. Michael kept checking in on you throughout the day. His texts quieted down your anxious mind, even when he wasn’t there with you.

“Who’s the fella?” Bessie plopped down in the seat next to you.

“What?” You answered, hiding the screen of your phone in your chest.

“The lad that got ya smilin’ all day, love,” she lightly bumped her shoulders into yours. “Who is he?”

You scoffed, your eyes falling shut briefly, “erm—a neighbor. He and I have, uhm, been really hitting it off.”

“You’re blushin’, aren’t ya?” she teased you.

“Stop,” you giggled.

“What’s his name?” Bessie asked you.

You wanted to tell her. She was your friend, after all, she earned the right to know about Michael. But you didn’t feel comfortable to share his information with her. Not when Eamon Cunnigham had a bounty on his head.

“I’d rather not say his name for now,” you explained. “We’re still in the beginning stage and I don’t want to jinx it.”

Bessie squinted her eyes at you, “I respect that.”

“Thanks.”

“So, how good is he in the sack?”

You gasped, blushing furiously, “Bessie!”

You wished you could share more with Bessie. Some people might say that you were just coworkers, that no true friendship could exist between the two of you. Of course, you worked together. But how could it not turn into friendship? You worked eight-hour shift, facing the same type of bullshit daily. Plus, she was driving you to work most days. And she showed up when you needed her.

Friendship was inevitable.

So, yes, Bessie was your friend. And you would have loved to share a bit about Michael with her. You just didn’t want to risk it. Bessie was a good friend but she also was a bit of gossip. You knew because most of the things she wasn’t supposed to share with anyone, was shared with you. You liked it because you were a bit of a gossip yourself. And also, she might not have received it well. After all, Michael was a Kinsella.

And Kinsella were criminals.

“It’s good to see you doin’ better,” Bessie commented.

“Yeah, I’m feeling much better,” you smiled at her. “Thanks again for coming to get me.”

“Anytime,” she replied. “I’m here. Whenever you want to talk about it.”

“I know. When I’m ready to talk about it, I’ll tell you everything. I promise.”

Michael was nervous laying there in this heavy and noisy machine. He almost felt claustrophobic.

Everything is going to be okay. I’m sure.

Your text had eased his nerves slightly. You knew why he was there. Not even Jimmy knew. And thankfully his brother didn’t insist when Michael refused to answer. He was the strong one. He did all the jobs they couldn’t or didn’t do. He was the assassin, the one people feared the most. And this disease only diminished him. Made him weaker. A liability.

He didn’t want his family to pity him. That was the last thing he wanted from any of them. He didn’t want it from you. Never from you.

The doctor had confirmed it. It was epilepsy. He even gave Michael a brochure on the subject. On how to live with it. He was given a prescription and sent on his way. There wasn’t much he could do about it. The doctor had been clear when he had asked, epilepsy was a long-term illness. It wasn’t something that could just go away. It was manageable.

You had said the same, one evening, in your kitchen. He didn’t know then what it was. And as you always tend to do, you brought him comfort. Reassurance. You were his safe haven from the current chaos of his life.

***

“Having a meetin’ later,” Frank said once they came back. “A few things we need to discuss.”

“Think I’ll give it a miss, Frank.” Michael retorted. This was going to be another waste of his time. They’d already discussed everything regarding Eamon Cunnigham.

“If you’d been this fuckin’ reticent about clippin’ Caolan Moore,” Frank got into his face. “We wouldn’t be in this shit. Is this still about you trying to see yer daughter? Because that’s gone. Now. You think her case worker’s not been talking to the cops about your part in Moore’s murder?” Michael breathed through his nose, his gaze dipping to the ground. “Because the papers as good as fuckin’ named ya.”

“He wasn’t charged with anythin’, Frank.” Jimmy defended him.

“Doesn’t matter a fuck,” he snapped back. “They know he did it. Everyone does. No court is going to give you access to Anna. Not now. Not a fucking chance. You put an end to that the moment you shot Caolan Moore. The sooner you accept that, the better for all of us.”

Michael knew that. He wasn’t delusional. He was also aware of his chances to get access to his daughter long before that. And they weren’t high. His wanting to miss the meeting had nothing to do with Anna. He just needed a moment to think. A moment to himself. Wasn’t he allowed that? Did he always have to come at their beck and calls? Like a good little soldier?

Frank was being unfair and petty. Because he was at the head of the family, he needed to remind Michael that he was to obey him. Jimmy and Michael disobeyed his orders. And now, he was left to clean up their fuck ups. They would do as they were told. And he would not tolerate anything else from them.

***

His door shut behind him and Michael threw his key on the kitchen counter. He felt it coming. That feeling he was growing accustomed to. Unfortunately. Another seizure. He quickly moved to his couch. Opening his blazer, to help him breathe better. Everything around him became hazy. He laid on his back. His fingers twitching. Muscles spasming. The muscle in his cheek fluttering.

Michael hated it. He hated having no control over this. His body didn’t feel like his anymore. The buzzing in his ears only grew louder, his eyes closing, his arms shaking violently. At the mercy of his seizure, he had no other choice but to wait for it to pass.

You sat in front of your television, a plate sitting on your coffee table, staring blankly at your mother’s latest text.

I really need to talk to you. Please, can we meet?

She kept insisting on meeting you. You should leave it unanswered. Unread even. In fact, you should have blocked her number. But you couldn’t just bring yourself to sever your bond with her. Not entirely. Your father was dead. You no longer had that bond. And she was there. Alive. Begging you to give her a chance.

A chance to do what? To mend? To explain? To answer?

You weren’t truly sure.

It would be lying to say that you weren’t the least bit curious. That you didn’t at least consider it. She was your mother, after all. Could anyone blame you for even considering it? It was natural to still want some sort of a bond with her. Especially now that your father was gone. It wasn’t crazy for you to consider it.

It would be crazy, though to accept meeting her. Knowing what and who you would be dealing with. You couldn’t do this to yourself. You couldn’t do this to the little girl you once were. The little girl that still loved your mother.

You must protect her at all cost.

The texts and the calls remained unanswered.

Anna called.

His little girl had called him. Crying. Asking for answers. Answers he didn’t have.

The night Allison died was fuzzy to him. Alcohol. Drugs. Mix of both, perhaps made it hard to remember what really happened that night. Michael was certain of one thing. He would have never hurt the woman he loved. The mother of his child. Let alone kill her.

“You killed her.” Anna reminded him.

“Not on purpose—”

“You can’t be certain of that. Not if you were off your head.”

“I am certain. Anna, I am certain.” He assured her.

“So, how are you certain, Michael?”

“Do you remember when you were little, and I’d take you to the pool. And the only way we could get you to jump in, was if I promised to catch ya,” he recalled, fondly. “I always did. You’d jump, I catch ya.” He snorted, “and—then we’d laugh together. So much. Every time. Do ya remember that?”

Anna remained quiet. Listening. Michael’s throat grew tight. Tears pressing against his eyes.

“Do you really think that I would deliberately do anything that would hurt ya?” No answers. “Anna? I love ya.”

She hung up. Michael let out a shaky breath. Heartbroken. Afraid that he lost her, he texted her.

Please call me back.

It went unanswered.

“I thought I stopped by before going to work,” you smiled at Michael as you stepped into his home.

“Hey,” Michael’s arms circled your waist, pulling you into him.

“Hey,” you retorted, your hands resting on his chest. He was wearing his dark green sweater, and the jeans that hugged his thick thighs perfectly. “So, how did it go?”

He pushed out a heavy sigh, “it went well.”

“And?” You insisted, he pulled away from you.

He didn’t answer immediately, taking his time, pouring himself a glass of water. You waited patiently. “Epilepsy,” he nodded.

“Alright,” you said cautiously, stepping closer to him. “Did the doctor give you a prescription? Do you need me to get it for you?”

“I don’t want this from you,” Michael turned to you. “I don’t want you pitying me.”

“This is not pity, Michael,” you reassured him. “This is common sense. You have a condition. And it needs to be treated.”

“I’m taking care of it,” he pushed out a heavy sigh, almost snapping at you. “I can take care of myself.”

“Okay,” you nodded, feeling slightly hurt at his sudden shortness towards you. “I gotta go to work.”

His eyes fell shut. He was now feeling like an asshole, knowing he wasn’t being fair to you. “Pet—"

“Michael—” your eyes locked onto his. “It’s nothing to be ashamed of. Doesn’t make you any less of a man to—have epilepsy.” He pushed away from the counter, “I don’t think of you as any less than a man because of it. And I’m sorry if I overstepped. I didn’t mean to. I was only trying to help.”

“I know. I’m the one who should be sorry, pet,” Michael shook his head. “It’s just—”

“It’s okay, I get it.” You reached for his hand, “I’m on your side, Michael. I got your back.”

“I don’t deserve it.”

“Let me be the judge of that, alright?” You squeezed his hand gently. “If you need anything. Whatever it is. I’m here for you.”

“I know,” he smiled at you, gazing at you fondly, stepping closer to you.  

“Good.” You mirrored his gaze, “so, are we okay?”

“We’re okay,” his rough hand moved under your chin. “See ya later, yeah?”

You nodded, “yeah.”

He tilted you chin up, pressing his lips against yours in a soft kiss. “Call if ya need anythin’.”

“Same for you.”

Michael knew you cared. The truth was; he had a hard time accepting it. His epilepsy was something he had no control over. It was something that made him weak. It made him a liability. And he couldn’t be that. Not when his family needed him. Not when they were up against Eamon Cunningham.

His family needed him.

Like clockwork, you came rushing to your friend’s car. You were wearing a floral dress, very long, stopping right above your ankles. That color looked good on you, as did most of them. The little girl had grown into a very beautiful woman. That was what you were now. A woman. With fuller hips. And a fuller breast.

You were more beautiful than your mother.

She wanted to give you space. She wanted you to make the decision to invite her. He, on the other hand, thought they should just come knocking on your door. He knew you won’t let them into your life. Not as long as they gave you a choice.

They had your address, so why shouldn’t they just come to you?

He had thought of it a few days before. Your mother had resisted. Put up a fight. Well, she tried. He didn’t really leave her a choice. He had dragged her with him. Hoping you’d be more receptive if your mother was there.

He had to change his plans though.

A police car was stationed at the end of your street. He hadn’t wanted to risk it, then.

But he would come back.

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[cozage]

The Daughter's Return: Part 3

Chapter 2: Revelation

Start From Beginning | Next Chapter | Table of Contents | Read on AO3

Characters: female reader x Portgas D. Ace Word Count: 1.8k

Unfortunately, Thatch’s first meal back didn’t agree with you either. Your meal lasted about thirty minutes before you had thrown it back up again. 

Ace, ever the kind hearted soul, held your hair and rubbed your back, whispering encouraging words to you. Once you finally finished emptying the contents of your stomach, he helped you back to your room, and got you into bed. 

“I’m going to go get Marco,” he said, tucking you in.

“No!” you pleaded. “Please Ace. He gets so weird about me being sick. Just leave it alone until morning. I’ll be better by then. Please.”

You gave him your best doe-eyed look, pouting just enough to make him cave to your wishes. 

“Fine,” he whispered, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “But if you’re not better by tomorrow…”

“I promise I’ll go.” You knew you wouldn’t be able to get away with one more day of illness after Thatch was back. Even if you didn’t go of your own volition, Marco would hunt you down and force you to run tests. Might as well seem like a willing participant when everyone else wanted you to do it. 

“Okay,” Ace agreed. “Do you want me to-”

“Go.” You waved him on. A party was surely about to start, and you knew that Ace needed to be social for a few hours. “Go have fun. I’ll just sleep here with Jinx.”

Ace smiled at that. “I’m glad the two of you are finally getting along.”

You rolled your eyes. “Only took her three months to realize I’m not going anywhere.”

“Love you,” Ace whispered, giving you a quick kiss on the forehead. 

“Love you.”

The door shut, and you were plunged into darkness, the only light coming from your window. 

You tossed and turned most of the night. The bed felt simultaneously too big and too small, too hot and too cold. You could feel sweat dripping down your back as you flipped back and forth. It was miserable. You were miserable.

After hours of tossing and turning, Ace finally came back into the room. 

“Hey,” he whispered. “Come with me. The stars look amazing tonight.”

You frowned. “The moon is too bright tonight for the stars to be worth it,” you argued. “I don’t feel well enough to go for mediocre stars.”

“No,” he whispered, his voice getting slightly louder. “There's no moon tonight.”

You gave a slight laugh. He must’ve been really drunk if he couldn’t find the moon. “Ace, it’s definitely a half moon tonight. The moon cycle doesn’t change.”

And neither did your cycle. You always had your period between the half and the quarter moon, which hadn’t happened yet.

“I’ll show you!” Ace said, picking your hand up and dragging you out of bed. Sometimes you forgot how strong he was, how effortlessly he could pull you along when he wanted to. 

You followed him, laughing at his confidence. Perhaps the alcohol and the ship lights had confused him as to what was a moon and what were lights. 

As you walked, you watched his gait closely, and realized he wasn’t drunk.You had gotten pretty good at figuring out how many drinks he had based on his walking abilities. He had probably only had two or three beers through the night. Surely he was just confused. 

It was late, the entire ship quiet and eerie with just the two of you walking through the halls. During your journey to the deck, you only passed one other person. Teach. 

“Hey you crazy kids!” Teach laughed, looking at you and Ace. “What are you up to so late at night?”

“Gotta prove a point,” Ace laughed. “What about you?”

“Ah, just getting one step closer to my dreams, that’s all.” Teach cackled at his own statement and gave you a wink. “What point are you proving tonight, Ace?”

“He claims there’s no moon tonight.” You rolled your eyes to show that you clearly didn’t believe him.

“No moon?” Teach cackled, the boom of his voice making you flinch. “Well he’s right about that. It’s a no moon night. Hard to see out there. Be careful you two. Never know what’s around the corner. ”

“See ya tomorrow!” Ace called as he pulled you along, away from your conversation. 

It should’ve struck you as strange that Teach was heading for the commander's hall so late at night, but you were too focused on the fact that another person said it was a no moon night. Based on your calculations, you shouldn’t be anywhere near a no moon night. It didn’t make any sense. 

When you got out onto the deck, it was dark and silent. The party was over, all of the lights extinguished. 

And there was no moon. 

“Impossible,” you whispered, your mind starting to race. 

“Told you!” He boasted. “And I’ll have you know I hardly drank anything at all, so I know what I’m talking about!”

He led you back to the rear of the ship, your mind running at a hundred miles. When was the last time you had your cycle? Had you even had one last month? You usually followed these things so closely, but you had been so busy recently you hadn’t kept track of time. 

And you and Ace were painfully careful. Ever since the first night full of recklessness, you had been so careful. There hadn’t even been a time when-

The onsen, you realized with horror. The two of you had certainly not been careful then. You had been busy all night, and protection had been the last thing on your mind at that moment. 

Fuck. You hadn’t had a cycle since then. You were certain. Your stomach knotted into a ball of anxiety, and suddenly everything made sense. 

The loss of appetite. The sickness. The inability to control your body temperature and devil fruit ability. Your body was reacting to some foreign thing inside of you. Something that had been growing for two months. Even Jinx seemed to realize it. No wonder she was being nice to you recently. 

You resisted the urge to run over to the edge of the ship and vomit, sick with this new revelation. Had Marco realized it before you? Is that why he was so insistent on running tests? If Marco found out, then he would be obligated to tell your father. And you would be pulled from all your duties. Nobody would listen to a pregnant strategist. Nobody would let a girl with a baby do any fighting. Your life as you knew it would be over. 

You were panicking, but you tried not to let it show externally. You had to remain calm. You had to figure out where Ace stood on this matter first. 

As the two of you laid on the ship deck and stared at the stars, you finally worked up the courage to ask the question. 

“How do you feel about kids?” you asked, keeping your voice as neutral as possible. You could only hope he wouldn’t be able to hear your heart drumming in your chest. 

“Kids?” Ace asked. “They’re okay, I guess.”

“Do you want some of your own?”

Ace gave a dry laugh, the kind that was bitter and angry. “No.”

You looked at him, but he was glaring at the stars. “Really? You don’t want kids?”

“Having kids is selfish,” Ace said, acid laced into his words. “People who have children just want their own legacy. That's not fair to any kid.”

“I get that, but-”

“Look,” Ace said, his voice full of fury. “My father was a criminal and my mother died in childbirth. What my mother did was selfish, and my father was narcissistic. I never got to know either of them, and yet they thought I should live regardless. I would’ve rather my mother lived than her dying to protect me.”

You didn’t know much about Ace’s parents, except that he didn’t like to talk about it. This was the most he had said on either of them in the entire time that you had known him. 

“Your mother sounds selfless, then. Not the other way around.”

Ace scowled, refusing to look at you. “You’re wrong. She was devoted to the man she loved, which made her devoted to me. But only because she thought I carried his will. I’ll never put another person in that position.” He finally looked at you. “I’ll never put you in that position.”

You wanted to cry. You wanted to tell him it was already too late for that. You wanted him to hold you, to tell you it would be okay. You weren’t sure how devoted you were to this child you might be carrying, but you had devoted your heart and soul to him already. 

“Okay,” you said simply. You returned your gaze to the sky, trying to blink away tears before they could form. 

Ace sighed. It was clear he realized that he had gotten too intense. “Besides,” Ace continued. “We’re pirates. Families and happy endings don’t really exist for us, you know? It’s not worth it to dream about a reality we could never have.”

You were tired of hearing his pessimism. You didn’t want to think about what kind of ending awaited you if it wasn’t happy. And so you stood to your feet and brushed the dust off your clothes. 

Ace looked up at you, confused. “Where are you going? We just got here.”

“I’m not going to sit here and listen to you say you won’t get a happy ending. I’m not going to lay here and pretend I’m fine with you being okay with dying, Ace. You promised! You promised you wouldn’t die, so I’m not going to listen to you talk about it like it’s a real possibility!”

You could feel hot tears streaming down your face, and you rushed to catch them before they fell and burned a hole in the deck. 

“Hey, easy now.” Ace stood to his feet, helping you wipe your tears, and then rushing to wipe them on his clothes to avoid being burned. “I didn’t realize this was a big deal. I thought we were just talking.”

“It’s not a big deal!” you fussed. “I just don’t want you talking like that.”

“I’m sorry,” Ace whispered, pulling you in for a hug. You could feel him stiffen at the temperature of your body, but he didn’t complain. He held you while you cried, waiting for your body to still again.

“Do you want kids?” he finally asked once you settled down. 

He hadn’t expected you to start crying again at his question, and you could feel his grip tighten against you. You knew he was confused, but thankfully he didn’t try to solve the mystery.

“You don’t have to answer,” he said, rubbing your back, trying his best to soothe you as your body continued to heat back up. 

“I don’t know what I want,” you sobbed. “I don’t know.”

“That’s okay,” Ace said. “Today was full of a lot of emotions. Maybe we should just go to bed.”

“Okay,” you whimpered. You were exhausted. You blamed the little parasite in your body for all your mood swings. You blamed it for everything. 

Tomorrow would be a new day, where you could solve this problem together. Now, you just needed sleep. 

The two of you walked to bed arm in arm, unaware of just how much your life was about to change.

--

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