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merakijinx · 8 months ago

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「 ✦ brewing feelings ✦ 」

Jinx x ballerina!reader / modern AU

─── ballerina masterlist ˖ . ݁𝜗𝜚. ݁₊ // third position

summary: Your calm was like the stillness of water before it begins to boil, while Jinx’s chaos swirled around her like a whirlwind of heat and flavor. Your love brewed slowly, like leaves unfurling in warm water—an unexpected infusion of something that neither of you could have prepared for. But love doesn’t ask for permission. It brews on its own time, in its own way, and somehow, it always finds its way to the heart—a warmth that lingers long after the last sip.

contents: modern AU, opposites attract, established relationship, smoker!Jinx

author's note: the flow is flowing, so this is what i do instead of studying for a law exam. also, french/french-speaking people please do not come for me for the mild stereotyping in this, i am one of you. all for the story’s purposes my pookies.

Jinx never expected to fall for you. It caught her off guard, sneaking in quietly and subtly, much like the way the morning sun spills its golden light through dust-coated windows, illuminating everything it touches—and perhaps this analogy felt a little too real.

It hadn't happened all at once. Love never did, not really. It grew between you like a vine threading through cracks, tender and persistent, finding places you hadn't known were empty.

The confession revealed itself through a series of subtle admissions at first: how you leaned into her during a walk home, how she started buying pink roses instead of spray paint, how the both of you let yourselves be seen. It was in the way her teasing remarks slowly mixed in with praises and in the way you'd sit beside her on rooftops, watching her paint murals on forgotten walls, your admiring gaze an encouragement in itself.

You even started bringing snacks—carefully wrapped sandwiches or thermoses of tea—because you knew Jinx would forget otherwise. The real kicker, though? Jinx didn't forget; she just hated tea. Something she would never admit to you, of course, because your warmth was better than any beverage’s, and she just couldn't bear to see your beaming smile fade in disappointment.

It was how her pulse quickened when you laughed—that soft, quiet laugh that she felt more than heard. How she found excuses to touch you—fingers brushing during a handoff, an arm slung around your shoulders, a hand catching you when you stumbled. It was in the way you began looking for Jinx in every room, how your heart stuttered when she called you "ballerina" in that raspy voice. It was in the way late-night conversations grew longer, your silences more comfortable.

She couldn't pinpoint the exact moment she realized it, but she remembered the way it settled in her chest—a quiet knowing. And it terrified Jinx because her world was—more often than not—anything but quiet.

For weeks, you lived in that in-between space, balancing the line between friendship and something more. By the time you finally let the word slip, it felt inevitable. The air was still thick with chemicals after a particularly messy graffiti session, and she had just stepped back to admire her latest creation. Her eyes sparkled with mischief and excitement, though as she turned to you for approval, you found something warmer in them, too.

Then, in a moment that felt both spontaneous and fated, she leaned in. The kiss was tentative, a gentle brush of lips that carried the weight of questions unasked. And you answered without hesitation, finally tasting the allure of her cherry chapstick mixed with the warmth of her breath and melting against her like you'd been waiting forever.

Months later, the ballet studio hummed with the soft notes of a piano, the same way it always did. The late afternoon sun filtered through the high windows, painting the room with a hazy gold. Jinx leaned against the wall with her arms crossed as she watched you dance, her gaze holding an intensity that would've made anyone else self-conscious. She wasn't supposed to be here—not during class, anyway—but she had a way of slipping past boundaries as easily as she slipped past locked doors.

And besides, how could she stay away when you looked like this? She just couldn't help herself this time.

You were in the center of the room, surrounded by other dancers. But to her, you might as well have been alone. Every movement was graceful, like you were born to make beauty out of thin air. There was something humbling about it. Jinx had always felt like she was meant for breaking things, for running too fast and hitting walls she didn't see coming. She wasn't a dancer—hell, she didn't even really understand ballet—but she didn't need to. All she needed to understand was you, and she did.

You hadn't noticed her yet, too focused on the lesson unfolding in front of you. She didn't mind. Her usual smirk morphed into something more tender. She'd seen you like this a hundred times, but it still hit her like the first. To anyone else, you might have looked untouchable—perfectly composed, a picture of poise. But Jinx knew better by now. She knew the way your nose scrunched when you laughed, how you stomped your pointe shoe in frustration with a dull clunk—almost like a bunny—when you slipped out of a pirouette, how your voice softened even further when you told her stories about your childhood, and how you leaned on her without hesitation when the world felt too heavy.

And then, as if drawn by instinct, your gaze flickered to the back of the room, and you finally caught sight of her. She saw the exact moment her presence registered; your concentration faltered, your foot slipping slightly on the polished floor, but a small smile broke across your face nonetheless. Without hesitation, you stepped away from the group—a faux pas—ignoring the raised eyebrows of the other dancers as you practically leaped across the floor toward her, your cheeks flushed from exertion.

"What are you doing here?" you whispered, the words slipping out between breaths. Your tone held no real reprimand—more like giddy surprise tinged with a warmth you couldn’t quite suppress.

"Came to see the best ballerina in the city,” Jinx said with a shrug that was far too casual to match the quiet intensity in her eyes. Her hand found its way to your waist with practiced ease, like it belonged there, her fingers curling with familiarity. "You're doing so good. You know that, right?"

"Really...?" you asked, your voice almost shy, betraying a hint of insecurity you usually kept buried under layers of performance. Yet, the tension coiled in your shoulders began to melt at the gentle pressure of her touch.

"Mhm," she hummed, a sound rich in affection and soft. Jinx had never been soft for anyone. Softness, she thought, wasn't hers to give. But she'd try—for you. Her thumb moved in slow circles against the fabric of your pink leotard, her touch so light and reverent it sent a shiver down your spine. She treated you like you were something rare, something fragile—not in a way that suggested you were weak, but in a way that made you feel precious, irreplaceable. Her ballerina. “Dressed so pretty, too."

Her gaze roamed over your frame, lingering on the soft pastel hue of your leotard wrapping around you like second skin and the satin of your pointe shoes. A faint heat bloomed in your chest at her words but before you could reply, a sharp voice cut through the moment, calling out your name.

"Have you forgotten where you are? Return to your position at once!"

Your head snapped to your ballet mistress, her piercing gaze holding all the refined venom only a Frenchwoman like her could muster. Her scolding struck you like a slap, each word perfectly aimed to remind you of your place. "I—I'm sorry, Madame," you stammered, your voice small but tinged with the careful respect she demanded.

"This is not the time for socializing. If you're not focused on your work, you're wasting everyone's time." The woman's harsh gaze then shifted to the blue-haired girl, a frozen mask of disapproval. "And you, mademoiselle, have no business being here. This is a closed lesson. A place for discipline, not distraction."

Jinx’s lips twitched as she watched the woman, clearly amused by the disdain in her voice. She tilted her head, her eyes glimmering with mischief. "Distraction, huh? I prefer to think of myself as a muse." She mimicked the mistress’ harsh accent with exaggerated flair, letting the French syllables roll off her tongue, clearly finding the theatrics in her delivery hilarious. “Muse,” she quietly repeated to herself, drawing it out like a well-rehearsed joke, barely able to stifle a snort.

"Jinx," you whispered, your tone pleading, and that seemed to do the trick.

"Alright, alright." She raised her hands in mock surrender, letting out a dramatic sigh. "I'm leaving."

The other dancers watched in silence, their expressions a mix of curiosity and poorly hidden judgement. Jinx moved toward the door, but as her hand rested on the handle, she hesitated, looking back over her shoulder. You were already returning to your position, your body mechanically slipping into form, but there was hesitation in your steps—an uncertainty in the way you shifted your weight, the slight misalignment of your feet that betrayed your fractured focus.

A pang of guilt twisted in her chest. She hadn't meant to cause trouble—not for you, at least. Watching you dance felt like standing too close to something fragile, something you didn't dare touch for fear of ruining it, but she couldn't regret coming. Still, the weight of her presence had been too much—again—so she shut the door behind her, the soft click echoing in the empty hallway.

It was another half hour until class had finished, the natural gold shining in from the outside replaced once again by the fluorescent light of the studio, buzzing faintly as the dancers began to scatter. You lingered, your chest still rising and falling from the last routine.

"Looks like someone had her mind elsewhere today," one of the girls teased, her voice light but pointed as she adjusted her warm-up sweater.

"Yeah," another chimed in, tying her shoelaces. "Couldn't focus on your turns, huh?"

You flushed, your hands fussing with the ribbons of your pointe shoes. "I was... fine," you protested quietly, though even you could hear the thread of uncertainty in your voice.

"Sure, sure," she continued with a sly smile. "Must be nice to have a fan club. It's kinda cute. Our little daydreamer."

Laughter rippled through the group, playful but sharp, like the sting of cold water. They hadn't meant any harm, not really. The teasing had been light, coated with the kind of sugar that only barely masked the sting beneath it. Still, the words stuck to your skin like burrs.

You hadn't answered them, hadn't tried to defend yourself despite what Jinx had taught you. What could you say? That they were wrong? They weren't. Your focus had faltered when you caught sight of the blue-haired girl—all careless confidence and sharp-edged charm, even from a distance. And how foolish were you to break basic ballet class etiquette, running toward her the way you had?

But that wasn't the point.

The point was how your devotion to your craft suddenly felt fragile in their hands, like something they could joke about and toss aside, how they took your love and tried to turn it into something laughable. And now, sitting alone with only the quiet buzz of the lamp for company, you felt offended in a way you couldn't quite explain.

Finally, you stood, zipping up your bag and slinging it over your shoulder. How fucking dare they?

Jinx was leaning back against the brick wall outside the studio, the rough texture pressing into her jacket as she lit another cigarette. She didn't smoke often—only when she was angry, stressed, or waiting for someone. Her thoughts wandered as they always did when she was still for too long.

This wasn't her kind of place—too clean, too ordered. The neat row of bicycles locked up along the fence, the delicate lettering on the studio sign, the muffled strains of classical music seeping through the doors—it all felt a world away from the chaos that usually surrounded her. And yet, she stayed.

She shifted her weight, one hand stuffed in her pocket while the other toyed with the cigarette. She didn't need to be here. She could've been halfway across the city by now, spray painting a rooftop or tuning up one of her gadgets in her cramped apartment. But instead, she waited, her breath fogging in the cold like the steam rising from a hot cup of tea as the minutes dragged on.

It was you. It was always you.

The thought made her smirk, a wry, self-deprecating twist of her lips. She hated routines, and she definitely hadn't meant to fall into this one. But here she was, loitering outside a ballet studio like some stray cat who couldn't figure out where else to go.

The heavy door suddenly creaked open, jolting Jinx from her thoughts. A group of dancers spilled out, laughing and chattering, their voices breaking the stillness of the street. She stepped back into the shadow of the wall, letting the small crowd pass without a word, but the slight scowl on her face spoke volumes by itself.

And then you appeared, your steps dragging just enough to betray your mood, and her features softened.

"There she is," she drawled, almost to herself, her voice warm and smooth. She straightened as she took a final drag, making sure to exhale the smoke away from you and crushing the cigarette under her boot with one swift motion. She reached for her gum, popping a piece into her mouth. She knew you hated it, the bitter sting of tobacco clinging to her tongue, so she made the small effort just for you.

You attempted a smile, but it faltered, not quite reaching your eyes, though the tension in your body eased in her presence, and you greeted her with a soft peck. "You didn't have to wait for me.” Yet you were glad she did. She knew that, too.

"Where else would I be?" Jinx replied, her tone steady, but her gaze lingered on your face with a flicker of suspicion. She noted the dullness in your eyes, the subtle shift that went deeper than just the exhaustion from class. Her brows furrowed ever so slightly, a question forming in her mind as her tongue traced the inside of her cheek. "Those girls being dicks to you again?"

Your smile slowly dropped, slipping away like a mask too heavy to hold. You opened your mouth, instinctively preparing to deny it—not because it wasn’t true, but because you didn’t want to worry her, to trigger the fierce protectiveness you knew so well. Yet the words wouldn’t come. Instead, you exhaled shakily, your shoulders sagging under the weight of the question. When you finally glanced up at her, your eyes—vulnerable and wounded, like those of a kicked puppy—met hers. The sight hit her square in the chest, tightening something deep inside her.

“I think they were just teasing,” you murmured, your voice barely more than a whisper, as if speaking too loudly would make the hurt more real. You hugged your jacket tighter around yourself, a futile shield against the mockery they left behind. “But… it got to me, I guess. Made me feel like I wasn’t good enough.”

Jinx watched you carefully, her gaze softening as you shrank further into yourself. She hated seeing you like this, folding in under the weight of someone else’s cruelty.

“You know,” she began, her voice steady but edged with quiet fire, “they’re just trying to drag you down so they don’t have to feel so small. That’s all it is. It’s pathetic if you ask me.”

“I know,” you admitted softly, the words almost lost in the space between you. You didn’t sound convinced, but it was clear you didn’t have the energy to argue.

She sighed, taking a step closer. Her hand reached for your wrist, fingers surprisingly warm and firm as they curled gently around it. “C’mere,” she said, her voice low and coaxing, as if speaking to a wounded animal. She pulled you toward her, her touch more comforting than commanding.

And you listened, the weight in your chest loosening slightly more at the simple, familiar gesture. She always knew how to make you feel safe.

“You’re sensitive,” Jinx pointed out softly, her thumb brushing lightly against your wrist, grounding you in the moment. “And that’s not a bad thing, y’know? One of the things I love most about you, actually. You’re real.” Her words carried a calm, steady conviction that made your heart ache in a different way—this time, with gratitude.

She let a beat of silence pass before adding, “And you’re still miles ahead of them. Don’t let their shit get to you.”

You sighed, the last of your insecurities slipping away with her words. You stepped closer, letting yourself be pulled into her orbit once more as you leaned your forehead against her shoulder. The movement stilled something restless in her, and her hand instinctively slid to your back, offering the soothing caress of her palm.

“You’re so sweet to me,” you murmured, the words slipping out unbidden, barely louder than a breath.

Jinx cocked her head at you, a spark of mischief lighting up her eyes. She didn’t reply—not right away. Instead, with an almost exaggerated nonchalance, she reached out and grabbed the strap of your bag. Before you could react, she pulled it off your shoulder in one smooth motion and slung it over her own like it was the most natural thing in the world.

“Wait, no, you don’t have to—” you protested, your hand darting forward to take it back.

She raised one eyebrow in a way that always stopped you in your tracks. “Not up for debate, princess,” she stated, her voice carrying that cocky, singsong lilt that was so distinctly hers. “You should know that by now.”

This earned her a faint scowl, but the way she adjusted the bag on her shoulder, standing a little taller like she was showing off, made it impossible to stay annoyed. Her grin widened, smug and sharp, as if daring you to argue further.

“Seriously, I can carry it,” you tried again, though your voice lacked conviction because, deep down, you liked it. There was something comforting in the way she carried your bag so effortlessly, like it wasn’t just your belongings but the weight of the day she’d decided to shoulder without being asked. And the way she looked at you, as if she saw straight through the weak protest to the flicker of gratitude you couldn’t quite put into words, made your chest tighten.

“Yeah, sure you can,” she shot back, already turning and walking ahead, easily taking you with her by lacing your fingers together, “but you’re not gonna. So suck it up, buttercup.”

The two of you fell into step, following the familiar route back to your apartment. The evening air was crisp, carrying the faint tang of the city—a mix of concrete, rust, and the distant promise of rain. As you walked, you leaned over and pressed a quick kiss to her cheek, a silent thank you that lingered in the air between you. Jinx didn’t say anything, but the slight flush that crept up her neck didn’t escape your notice.

Normally, she would have been a chatterbox by now, her words tumbling out in an endless stream of stories, jokes, and wild tangents that only she could follow, and you chased after. But tonight, she surprised you. She stayed quiet, not in the uncomfortable way that usually signaled her restlessness, but in a way that felt… calm. Like she didn’t feel the need to fill the space with noise, content to let the quiet speak for itself. It was rare, and you found yourself savoring the unspoken connection between you that settled into the rhythm of your steps.

The streets were quieter now, save for the occasional rattle of a passing train in the distance. Streetlights cast a hazy glow, their golden halos reflected on the slick pavement from an earlier drizzle. You reached an intersection where the streetlight blinked red, and you paused, neither of you letting go. She rocked on her heels, her free hand shoved casually into the pocket of her jacket. Her gaze flickered to the ground, then back to you, strands of her blue hair falling messily into her face. You turned slightly, stealing a glance at her. The faint neon from a nearby sign danced in her eyes, making her grin look almost electric. It was lopsided, unpolished, but real in a way that made your chest tighten in adoration.

Jinx slowed as you approached the familiar building, her steps faltering just enough to take in the worn brass numbers on it. Her expression was unreadable for a moment, her eyes tracing the scuffed edges of the metal as if seeing it for the first time—or maybe for the thousandth, in a different light. Without a word, she fished out your keys, holding them out with a small, almost shy motion.

You accepted them, your fingers brushing hers briefly before you stepped forward and unlocked the door. The sound of the lock clicking open echoed faintly, and you looked back at her, your expression quiet and expectant. The question wasn’t spoken—it didn’t need to be—but she answered it anyway, stepping through the door with you as you tugged on her hand lightly.

Her grip tightened slightly as you led her up the familiar stairs, the soft creak of the old wooden steps the only sound between you. The weight of the day slipped away, left in the cracks of the peeling paint and the worn floorboards below.

The apartment was small but warm, bathed in soft pink and orange hues from the neon sign made by yours truly. The living room was cluttered but comforting—colorful pillows strewn haphazardly on the worn-out sofa, a coffee table stacked with books and magazines, empty mugs, and bits of Jinx’s tinkering projects that she’d forgotten to take home. And in the middle of it all? A vase holding a fresh bouquet of pink roses, the message card still attached.

Both of you kicked off your boots by the door, the dull thud of leather against wood breaking the stillness. She dropped your bag beside the couch before straightening and glancing around the room, taking in every detail like she always did, as if trying to see it through your eyes. You, meanwhile, drifted toward the tiny kitchen, the motion so routine it didn’t require a second thought.

“Still haven’t cleaned up, huh?” she teased lightly, her voice carrying a warmth that made you smile.

“Like you’re one to talk,” you shot back, poking your head out just enough to send her a playfully pointed look.

Her grin widened as she finally shrugged off her jacket, tossing it over the back of the couch before following behind you, the heels of her shark socks scuffing lightly against the floor.

Your hand reached for the kettle almost automatically. The chipped red enamel on its side glinted faintly in the light as you filled it, the soft clink of it settling on the stove feeling like part of a quiet ritual.

“Tea?” you asked, already pulling open the cabinet to retrieve two cups, their mismatched patterns a part of your routine as much as anything else.

From behind you, Jinx leaned lazily against the doorframe with an almost amused glint in her eyes. A faint, knowing smile tugged at the corners of her mouth, carrying a secret only she knew the truth behind.

"Sure."

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merakijinx · 8 months ago

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summary — love language headcanons for the arcane characters (giving and receiving)

characters included — jinx, ekko, silco, vander, viktor

cerisa speaks — literally started writing this the night of s2 act 3 release and only now finishing it if that doesn't tell you something about how inconsistent i am idk what does. ATTENTION PEOPLE IN MY REQUESTS!! i swear to god i will do your request in the next year for sure! viktor forgive me, amen.

jinx — gift giving. jinx's most loyal companion is her imagination so it isn't hard for her to think of gifts that are personal to you that'd you'd enjoy.

we see many of the little homemade trinkets that she's made for silco throughout the years, my favourite being the ashtray he keeps on the desk in his office. so dependant on what you're into, she'll showcase her love for you in the form of a trinket.

oh, so you like to read? she sees you dog-earing a page of your book whilst you two are in her hangout and drops her current project to fashion you a bookmark. you only notice that her tinkering has stopped when the bookmark has been dropped on your lap and she's made a blasé comment about you destroying your book for too long so she just had to make you this so you'd stop.

hiding behind a mask of indifference when giving out her gifts is kind of her thing, but she's anxious to no end to see if you like it. her mind runs a mile a minute; 'don't they like it? do the colours not match? they hate it they hate it theyhateittheyhateittheyhateme-'

until you're holding it carefully between your fingers and your mouth is making that 'o' shape it does when something unexpected has happened. when you say that it's the most thoughtful gift you've ever received she's insistent on making you a hundred more.

physical touch. stop booing me i'm right! let me explain. as we see before powder becomes jinx, she's quite normal with physical contact, we see vi hugging her, putting a hand on her shoulder, claggor helping her down to the apartment, etc.

it's after vi slaps and abandons her that she becomes uncomfortable with physical touch. silco (most of the time) lets her initiate it on her own terms.

one time he doesn't is where she's playing airplane with his shimmer device and he grabs her wrist. she lets him retain his grip for a moment but when she does move her arm away he doesn't follow her. through my own delusions i've come to the conclusion that jinx wants, maybe even craves physical comfort, but quickly feels smothered by it when it's forced on her.

despite this, with the right person i feel like she would be willing to accept physical affection from them. it would take time to establish and develop a trusting relationship with jinx but when you're there, you're there. she's also a deeply insecure person when it comes to relationships of any kind and retaining them so you'll have to slip in some words of affirmation between touches.

her favourite way to receive physical touch would for sure be you playing with her hair. running your fingers through it and scratching her scalp? congratulations, that's your new job. you mention off the cuff how you'd love to see her hair down? suddenly there's a brush in your hands and an expectant and giddy jinx sitting in front of you.

even though she trusts you, she'll still get startled and tense up if you suffocate her with too much affection. holding your arms out for a hug or patting the seat next to you so she can lean into your arms is a much better way to initiate contact with her.

a little extra headcanon, when she's doing your nails she'll use her own hands to hold your fingers still instead of a wrist rest. she says it keeps them steadier so she doesn't make any mistakes but really she craves that subtle contact.

ekko — acts of service. season two episode seven dictates this as canon i'll be taking no arguments on this day. seeing his huge mural of future vi to show powder after he upsets her really just cements this headcanon. this is a pretty big action so i'll focus on the smaller ones for now.

starting off really strong with him decorating your room for you. close your eyes and imagine him building you a shelf to store your books or keepsakes. not only building it but carving designs into it. ohh you like music? well take a look at those carvings of sheet music! and do you spy some new books in your collection (stolen from a piltover library, naturally)

with so many different types of people living at the tree, at the beginning he was pretty much forced to learn how to cook all different types of meals. it paid off though because no matter where you hail from, he'll be able to prepare you any of your favourite dishes.

the more i type about ekko the more i realise he is the best househusband out of the arcane gang. he can cook, he can clean, he's a provider - he is quite literally the entire package. him being a certified pretty boy also helps because everyone needs a little eye candy in their life.

this one is sickeningly sweet but for relationship milestones, and even just randomly, ekko will fully plan out a date night for the two of you. picnics on the top of buildings that overlook the neon lights of the undercity, just the two of you. it's so intimate.

physical touch. now this i truly will be taking no arguments on. receiving physical affection for ekko is huge. we all saw how fast he hugged benzo in the alternate au!!

with so many people from his early life either dying (benzo, vander, claggor, mylo) or leaving (jinx and vi), ekko hasn't really had anyone to offer him any form of closeness. sure, he has the firelights. it just isn't the same though.

so when you come along with all the tender hugs and fond touches that he's been deprived of for so long he knows he's done for. consider him addicted. even just clapping a hand on his shoulder after a fight, hell, LEANING ON HIM?? that man is YOURS to command for now until the end.

knowing you're just physically there and not going anywhere - not abandoning him - he's content to bask in your presence.

quick kisses and brief glances at each other come in abundance. if you're not at the firelights base then you're on the go. it's these times that make you both appreciate the time you have with each other. ekko plans to take full advantage of the downtime you both have between missions. don't expect to stray a few feet from each other.

silco — acts of service. silco's acts of service are usually communicated through orders that he gives his goons. say you offhandedly mention that some shimmer addicts have set up camp in the alley next to your apartment. when you leave the last drop and go home you notice that those shimmer addicts you briefly complained about? gone. without a trace.

i feel like he prefers to give out acts of service to you as a kind of 'i can provide for you, don't leave' kind of thing. you don't need to ask silco to do something, he'll take the initiative. he wants you to view him as a reliable provider. this sounds very 50s but he's an old fashioned kind of guy so it checks out.

not the kind of guy to do chores at the start i'm afraid. he has people for that. maybe you can convince him to wash the dishes after you cook you, him and jinx a meal. but never and i mean NEVER will you catch this man hoovering or mopping the floor. that is just simply not going to fucking happen. you'd have better luck asking him to quit smoking.

not gonna lie he just lightens the load of whatever jobs you need to do so you can spend more time together. the famed eye of zaun is clingy.

physical touch. actually controversial take no way CHILLS! similarly to jinx, silco wouldn't actively look for physical touch in any given situation. he's obviously traumatised by his former best friend choking him out and drowning him underwater. not to mention completely brutalising his eye.

jinx is likely the only person he would willingly let touch him. not even sevika on a good day gets that privilege. you would need to spend a lot of time gaining silco's undying trust. only when you two are emotionally close will you be able to share his touch.

buying you jewellery just so he can feel the warmth of your body heat as he clasps the necklace around you neck. silco is very subtle and sneaky when he wants to be close to you.

his neck is off limits to everyone, even you. placing your hand on his collarbone whilst entangled in bed together is the furthest you'll get.

vander — physical touch. oh i just know this man gives the best bear hugs. physical intimacy with vander is just safety incarnate. when he takes you into his arms it really feels like a breath of topside air after a lifetime underground.

i don't think vander would really like being with a partner that didn't enjoy physical affection. it's not only a bonding experience for the both of you to engage in but also a display of trust that he deeply values.

conveying his love for you with intimacy, non-sexual and sexual is something he cherishes. the level of mutual understanding and relationship building that comes with it is indispensable to vander. basically the keys to a successful partnership with him.

that little symbol of love in the undercity where two people touch their foreheads together? that's the most significant way you can show that you truly care for someone and it's vander's favourite way to connect with you in moments of peace.

words of affirmation. vander is the type of guy to not necessarily need words of affirmation to feel good about himself but will appreciate it all the same. he tries so hard to be a good example to the kids and in general to the populace of the undercity. he wants this life to be better. he wants to be better.

he's the leader, the protector, all the pressure is on him. affirming his efforts through words goes further than you might think.

it's you and him against the world. the brewing political storm that plagues both the undercity and piltover is little more than a distant thought when you're whispering honeyed words to and fro in the dead of night. for a man with such an imposing presence, telling him that you love and need him makes him weak.

with your words of affirmation, he's more certain of his role in the undercity than he's ever been. you renew the passion he had in youth, he wants the best for you and will do whatever he can to obtain it.

viktor — quality time. viktor is all about sharing the same space as his partner. with him being the co-founder of hextech, it's difficult for him to find time alone to dote on you. which is why you''ll often find yourself in the company of viktor (and oftentimes jayce) in their lab, them working on a new use for hextech, and yourself either studying or simply watching the magic (literally) happen.

when jayce is off being the poster child of hextech or following councillor medarda around like a lost puppy, you and viktor will settle into comfortable silences. usually with the only noise being the tinkering of science equipment or the quick scribbles of pen on paper. there's no pressure to fill the room with unnecessary chattering. just you being with him is enough. your presence is akin to a relaxant to him.

sometimes most of the time you'll need to remind him to take breaks when you've been there for hours on end and he's showing no signs of stopping or slowing down. it's a practised routine at this point; he refuses, you leave it alone for five minutes, during this time he is sneaking glances at you when he thinks you aren't looking, waiting for you to ask again.

when you do, he feigns reluctance as you grab his hand to get you both some fresh air and a proper meal. he might actually be part cat now that i'm thinking about it. he just can't help but love spending time with you.

words of affirmation. actions speak louder than words? pft, yeah right. communication is deeply valued by viktor. he's exceptional at deducing someone's intentions behind their words so don't even bother trying to get something by him. it won't work. you try to plan surprise birthday party for him? he's one of the first people to find out about it.

so when you earnestly tell him how special he is to you or how appreciative you are of him, he knows it's 100% what you actually think and BOY does that fluster him more than anything.

he isn't very big on compliments, not that he doesn't value the ones you so willingly give him, but he finds it hard to accept the good and beauty you see in him. there will always be a part of viktor, machine herald or mortal man, that refuses to believe he could be good enough for this type of love. when he retracts inside his mind and lets his doubt drown him, it's you who can pull him out of the water and onto land. telling him that you love him just the way he is will silence his uncertainty.

oh you know what would just about finish him off? making him a lunch box and putting a note in there. it doesn't having to be something poetic, even a simple 'i love you ♡' will be at the forefront of his mind until he gets back home to you.

honestly, if you're someone who expresses their love through words of gratitude or proclamations of admiration then a relationship with viktor will be smooth sailing.

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merakijinx · 8 months ago

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Is it just me or this is lowkey serving lawbomb

「 ✦ first position, first impression ✦ 」

Jinx x ballerina!reader / modern AU

─── ballerina masterlist ˖ . ݁𝜗𝜚. ݁₊ // first position

summary: In the quiet of the studio, you were all precision and grace—until chaos herself walked in, grinning and uninvited, ready to flip your world upside down the same way she flipped the spray paint can in her hand.

contents: modern AU, opposites attract, meet-cute (kind of)

author's note: me? writing a ballerina fic? who would’ve thought.

The ballet studio was supposed to be empty. You had made sure of it. No prying eyes, no unwanted interruptions—just you, the mirrored walls, and the steady rhythm of your pointe shoes against the polished wood floor.

You loved these late-night practices. They were your time to breathe, to refine, to let your body tell a story words couldn’t. Tonight, the story was one of frustration—rehearsal hadn’t gone well, your instructor’s criticisms echoing in your mind.

More passion. More presence.

You stood at the center of the room, your feet perfectly aligned, arms curving into the first position. The music from your phone swelled, something classical and haunting. You’d been at it for hours now, the soreness in your legs creeping in, but you refused to stop.

Perfection doesn’t allow for breaks.

Your movements were precise yet flowing, each step a piece of something larger. You didn’t notice the faint click of the door unlocking or the light shuffle of boots on the floorboards. You exhaled deeply and moved into a pirouette—the rotation was smooth, but your landing faltered, your weight wobbling slightly. A sharp sigh escaped your lips as you returned to your starting position.

CLAP. CLAP. CLAP.

You stumbled, spinning around to face the sound. There, leaning against the doorframe with a grin so wide it bordered on mocking, was a girl.

Blue hair—bright, messy, and sticking out in every direction. A pair of goggles sat pushed up on her head, catching the studio’s harsh fluorescent light, her jacket covered in patches and scuffs. She had a can of spray paint in one hand, and you swore you could see the air of chaos around her.

“Well, don’t stop now,” the girl said. “That was almost good.”

“Who are you?” you asked, your voice sharper than intended.

She pushed off the doorframe, completely unfazed, sauntering in like she owned the place. “Me? Oh, I’m just the humble artist who’s about to improve these boring white walls.” She gestured grandly at the pristine space. “But now I’m thinking maybe I’ll stick around for the floor show instead.”

You frowned, crossing your arms. “This is a private studio. You’re trespassing.”

“Pfft, ‘trespassing.’ Such a fancy word.” The girl smirked, walking further into the room. “I was just passing by and heard the music. Figured I’d check it out. Didn’t expect to find you, twinkle toes.”

You straightened, a spark of indignation flaring. “I’m practicing.”

“Oh, so I saw.” She tilted her head, grinning. Was she mocking you? “Don’t get me wrong, you’re good. Very swan-like. Majestic.”

You blinked, caught off-guard by the sudden compliment. “I—thank you?”

The girl grinned again, and you instantly regretted acknowledging it.

“But,” she added, circling you like a predator sizing up its prey, “you’re so stiff. Like, do you even know how to have fun? Or is it all, like, one-two-three-four, rinse and repeat?”

“Stiff?” You echoed while the faintest flush rose to your cheeks—from the casual compliment or the taunt that came after, you weren’t sure. “Ballet is about discipline. It’s not supposed to be—”

“Fun?” she cut in, wiggling her eyebrows.

“Chaotic,” you finished, your eye twitch barely perceptible.

“Chaos is fun!” she declared, tossing her spray paint can into the air and catching it. “Here, I’ll show you.”

Before you could protest, the blue-haired girl spun in place, flailing her arms in an exaggerated parody of a pirouette. She stomped her boots loudly on the floor, throwing herself into a clumsy leap that ended with her sliding on her knees, hands outstretched like she’d just performed a grand finale.

“Ta-da!” she exclaimed, grinning up at you.

You blinked. And then blinked again.

You tried to hold onto your irritation, but the sheer absurdity of the performance made it impossible. The only graceful thing about it was her braids, flowing like water despite herself. A giggle escaped before you could stop it.

And her grin only widened. “Oh, I like that sound. You should do that more.”

“Laugh at you?” you asked, arching a brow.

“Exactly.” She stood up and dusted herself off. “So, what’s your name, ballerina?”

You hesitated. The girl radiated trouble, the kind that left a mess wherever it went. But there was something oddly magnetic about her—like she carried her own orbit and dared people to get pulled into it.

“…Y/N,” you finally replied.

“Y/N.” she tested the name, her voice turning almost sing-song. “Fancy. Mine’s Jinx.”

“Jinx? That’s your name?” you asked skeptically, although it explained a lot.

“Yep. Short, sweet, memorable. Unlike your stiff little arabesque.”

You frowned. There’s that word again. You knew she was just pushing your buttons on purpose now, baiting you. But you fell for it—line, hook, and sinker. “My arabesque isn’t stiff.”

“It is,” she stated matter-of-factly. “Show me again.”

“Why would I do that?”

“Because you wanna prove me wrong,” Jinx said, flopping dramatically onto the floor with a smirk. “C’mon. I’m here, you’re here. Might as well. Promise I won’t make fun of you this time.”

Something about the way she said it made you pause, your instincts warring with your pride. You weren’t sure if it was the challenge in her tone or the fact that this strange, chaotic girl had somehow made you laugh. You didn’t owe her anything, especially not a performance. But either way, you stepped back into position, adjusting your posture.

“Fine,” you conceded. “But no commentary.”

She zipped her lips and made an exaggerated motion of throwing away the key.

The music started again, and you moved. This time, though, you were aware of Jinx watching you. You expected to feel self-conscious, but instead, you felt… free. Jinx wasn’t judging you—she was just there, soaking it in, her sharp eyes tracking every move.

When the music ended, you glanced over at her. She was sitting cross-legged now, her chin propped on her hands.

“…Well?” you asked, against your better judgment and slightly breathless.

She just stared at you, uncharacteristically quiet for a moment. Then, she nodded. “Not bad, ballerina. Not bad at all.”

“That’s it?”

“What, you want a standing ovation?” Jinx teased, though her tone was softer now. “Okay, fine. It was good. Annoyingly good. Makes me want to build you a little trophy or somethin’. ”

You shook your head, unable to suppress the small smile tugging at the corners of your mouth. “You’re insufferable.”

“And you’re a perfectionist,” she countered. “Guess we balance each other out.”

You opened your mouth to argue but found yourself faltering, taking a seat next to her instead and finally allowing yourself a break. “It’s just… everything I’ve worked for.”

She tilted her head, her braids swaying with the movement and her expression softening. “Yeah. I can see that.”

The both of you sat in silence for a moment, the sharp edges of your banter giving way to something quieter, more sincere.

You finally glanced at the spray paint still clutched in her hand, curious despite yourself. “You really think this place is boring?”

Jinx looked back at you, an almost knowing spark in her gaze. “It could use some… color.”

You hesitated, lost in thought. You didn’t know what it was—whether it was the anticipation of seeing your instructor’s look of horror the next morning or the possibility that maybe, just maybe, you were actually beginning to like the blue-haired girl beside you—that prompted you to utter your next words. “Just the back wall,” you finally sighed.

And Jinx’s eyes lit up, her smirk reappearing. “Deal, ballerina.”

A chemical scent filled the studio as she got to work, and you stayed on the floor, watching her paint wild streaks of color and chaos. It wasn’t perfect—far from it.

It was wrong. Out of place.

But there was something oddly mesmerizing about it, too. And somehow, you just couldn’t bring yourself to hate it.

#lawbomb #arcane

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merakijinx · 8 months ago

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A Gift from the Heart (toxicgf!Jinx) ｡𖦹°‧

Summary: It’s Christmas night, and Jinx gifted something special for you! However, your reaction wasn’t up to her standards..

Word count: 1.3k

(a/n at the end)

wlw

You were sitting on the floor next to Jinx’s workbench, hands over your eyes, when you heard a heavy thud land in front of you. “Open your eyes!” Your girlfriend’s voice rang out excitedly, and her cheerful expression matched her tone when you lowered your hands to see your blue-haired girl.

In front of you lay a cardboard box painted in red with a green bow running along the sides, and tied neatly on the top. “Wow, Jinx! What’s this? Looks so cute,” you said, giggling as you brought it closer to you.

“Open it and find out, toots,” Jinx responded, scooting closer to you so she could watch you closely unwrap her present.

“Okay..” You chuckled at her eagerness to watch you open the gift, not keeping her waiting any longer. You tugged on the green ribbon, letting it fall loose to the floor. When you took off the lid, there was a device that lay inside.

You took it out to examine it further, and recognized that it was a… sort of contraption where the center looked like it was altered (Ripped out and stuck in) to fit a mini-figurine of you and Jinx holding hands, rotating together within a ring of sparklers, like a music box.

“Jinx, this is so cute! What is it?” You asked, stifling a laugh at how chaotic the device looked. “It’s a Valdiani. Of us,” Jinx answered, her voice strained as she observed your reaction, chuckling nervously. “You like it?”

You leaned close to her with a hand cupping her face, and brought her cheek closer to plant a kiss. “I do. Thank you so much,” you said softly, then pulled away to tuck the device under the tree.

Jinx looked at you in confusion when you suddenly stood up and walked toward her couch, ending gift-giving time just like that. “So what do you say about watching a Christmas movie before we go to bed? I heard Carol’s a good one,” you said while walking on the propellor.

Her eyes shifted to the gift she got you, just sitting there underneath the Christmas tree while you were on the opposite side of the room. It was still spinning and sparkling under the fir tree. “Uh, a movie?” Jinx repeated, though her mind was elsewhere.

“Yeah, we can finish the rest of the cookies..”

Your voice drifted far away, and the other voices took over. Did you see how she reacted to your gift? She didn’t even like it!

She liked it, but she didn’t say she loved it.

The gift was too messy, she probably thought you half-assed it. She hates it.

How could you mess up a Christmas gift?

When you turned back around, Jinx was still sitting on the floor, spacing out into the void below. “Jinx?” You called out, but she didn’t respond. “Jinx..!” You repeated a little louder, and she snapped out of her trance. “Y-yeah, coming!” Jinx stood up and quickly walked over to you. It was Christmas, she wouldn’t let them ruin this night.

She brushed past you and slumped onto the couch, trying to play off her near panic attack l earlier. You crept up next to her, leaning yourself against her slowly to ease up the both of you. “Hey, you alright?” You asked gently. You could subtly feel her cold sweat, and she didn’t respond for a minute.

“What do you think of my gift?” She finally asked. “Your gift? I think it’s nice,” you replied simply. It was a nice gift, it was cute, simple, and meaningful.

“Just nice? Did you not like it?” You heard a hint of defensiveness in her tone now, and felt, too, the way she tensed up beneath your touch.

“No, I did like it-! I do,” you assured her, sitting back upright to face her directly.

For some reason, your withdrawal from Jinx just fueled her anxiety more. Why did you pull away? Are you fighting her now? No, Jinx, look at the bigger picture..

“You do,” She repeated, suspicious. “Then why did you just… you know, brush it off? Sweep it under the rug, or… Christmas tree in this case..,” She rambled, eyes darting away from your gaze as she slowly started losing herself. “I mean, usually that’s the time when you’re supposed to be all happy and over the moon, thanking me!”

“I didn’t! I didn’t mean to brush it off, I really do like it. I’m sorry.” You tried calming her down with reassurance and apologies, but you weren’t sure it was working.

“I worked really hard on that, you know..,” She finally said, her voice shaking now. “It’s a real Valdiani, you should be grateful,” Jinx dramatized, shifting the blame to you now. Her pink, shimmer-infused eyes were boring into yours intensely.

“What? It wasn’t on your wishlist? Too… tacky for ya’? I poured my heart into that, you know.. Into us.. Don’t tell me you’re just gonna ignore that? Gonna ignore that and… hurt me again,” Jinx ranted, inching away from you and curling herself into a ball. She was glaring at you now, arms crossed at her chest like she’s guarding herself from you.

“No, Jinx, please don’t think like that. I love it, it’s a meaningful gift. I’m sorry for hurting you, I didn’t mean to,” you apologized profusely, reaching out a hand to touch her shoulder, to make her come back to you.

She slapped your hand away, shrieking, “Don’t do that! You’re just faking it, you’re looking at me like I’m crazy!”

In turn, she looked at you with defiance and fear— Fear of what you might do, or fear of how she’s acting, she doesn’t know.

You flinched, immediately pulling back when she pushed you away. “No- I’m sorry,” you managed to speak out softly as you watched her stand up, her hands curled into a tight fist.

“Hah, I give you my time and my-… my love and you’re gonna give me that… half-assed reaction?! My gift isn’t half-assed, I thought about it clearly!” She started raising her voice, but it was hard to tell if she was yelling at you or the ones that haunt her. Then, she looked back at you with a manic glint in her deep magenta eyes.

She placed her hand on the backrest of the couch and the other on the cushion itself, and loomed over you. “And you.. Am I not your… top one anymore? Your favorite gift out of all? Did I lose that spot, because of my tacky, not heart-felt gift?” She spat out sarcastically.

“Do you hate my gift? Is it not good enough, huh?” She looked intimidating but her voice was trembling, like you could hear the little girl seeking for your approval.

“Stop it please,” you whispered, tears building up in your eyes. “I love the gift, I love it. It’s still my favorite, you’re my girlfriend,” you tried to convince her. “It’s a pretty, meaningful gift. I mean, it’s a r-real Valdiani, isn’t that cool?” It was strenuous to smile through the worry and pain, but you would do anything to keep her by your side. Jinx can be terrifying, she could kill you at any time, but you love her, and you won’t let go.

It wasn’t your words that brought her back to reality, it was seeing the tears stream down your cheeks. The desperation and resilience on your face broke her, the walls she tried to build up crumbled completely, and she dropped to her knees before you.

“No, no, I’m sorry,” she mumbled, hands roaming your face like she was grounding herself with your presence. If there was anything she hated more than getting hurt by her loved ones, it was hurting those she loves the most. An angel like you shouldn’t be crying, and it shouldn’t be at her hands.

“Please don’t cry. You won’t leave me, right? I wasn’t being me,” she continued, now crying with you in regret of how she acted out.

“I’m sorry, babe. I lashed out, I’m sorry for ruining this night.. Please forgive me, doll. I was acting stupid, I didn’t mean to make you cry. Let’s just forget about this, okay?”

｡𖦹°‧

This is also my first time writing a fanfic with toxic Jinx, so I hope it was okay and notttt overboard.. I wrote this at like midnight so when I’m awake & sober I’ll probably be embarrassed at this fic

Took inspo from a headcanon where Jinx would overthink if you didn’t “like” her gift enough.

#jinx x reader #arcane jinx #jinx #arcane #jinx arcane #jinx headcanon #jinx headcanons #arcane headcanon #jinx league of legends #lesbian #wlw #toxicgf!Jinx #Jinx as a toxic gf #I get second hand embarrassment reading this #arcane fanfic #jinx x you #jinx wlw #jinx fanfic #toxic jinx

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merakijinx · 8 months ago

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jinx and her way of loving you

wlw

jinx’s love is chaotic but fiercely devoted. she’s never been good at expressing affection the “normal” way—her love comes out in impulsive gestures, manic laughter, and moments of vulnerability when her walls slip. she thrives on your softness; it’s what draws her to you. you’re her safe place in a world that’s been nothing but cruel to her.

she’s the type to tease you relentlessly, push your buttons just to see you flustered, but it’s all because she adores you. she loves that you’re taller and stronger, but she absolutely loves being the one in control—it’s a power dynamic she revels in.

jinx’s kisses are playful and unpredictable. she’ll grab your face out of nowhere, tugging you down to her level to press a quick, messy kiss to your lips before skipping away with a giggle. other times, her kisses are intense and almost desperate, her hands tangled in your hair or clutching at your shirt like she’s afraid you’ll disappear.

she also loves kissing your neck—partly because she likes the reaction it gets from you, but mostly because it makes her feel powerful.

jinx has a thing for nicknames, and they’re usually quirky or teasing: big softie, tall stuff, doll, bunny. if she’s feeling particularly sweet, she might call you lovebug or sugar.

jinx loves touching you—it’s how she grounds herself in reality. her favorite spot is the back of your neck; she likes tugging you down to her level or just keeping you close.

she’s also fond of grabbing your arms, marveling at your muscles with a cheeky grin, or wrapping herself around you like a monkey, her arms slung over your shoulders. when she’s feeling clingy, she’ll sit on your lap and rest her head against your chest, listening to your heartbeat.

jinx is obsessed with your height and strength. she loves the way you tower over her, the way your arms can effortlessly pick her up. she’ll make jokes about being the “boss” despite the size difference, but secretly, she’s enamored with how soft and gentle you are despite your intimidating build.

jinx is a mix of playful and dominant in intimacy. she loves teasing you, taking the lead, and watching you melt under her touch. it gives her a sense of control she rarely feels elsewhere in her life. she’ll whisper things in your ear that make you blush furiously, her voice dripping with mischief.

but there’s also a surprising amount of tenderness beneath her wild exterior. she knows you’re pure-hearted, and while she loves corrupting you, she also treasures your softness. she’ll take her time to make sure you feel loved and wanted, her usual manic energy giving way to surprising patience.

jinx thrives on the idea of pulling you out of your comfort zone. she loves watching your pure heart wrestle with the darker

parts of the world she pulls you into. it’s thrilling for her to see you grapple with her chaos, and she delights in the way your soft nature balances her wildness.

she might teach you how to handle explosives or let you help her with one of her schemes, all while teasing you about how “bad” you’re becoming. but deep down, she knows you’re her moral compass—she loves that you’re not fully like her, even if she tempts you to be. she’ll protect your innocence in her own twisted way, never letting the darkness consume you entirely.

there are rare moments when jinx’s dominant façade cracks, and she lets herself be small with you. maybe it’s after a nightmare or when her insecurities about being “too broken” surface. in those moments, she’ll cling to you, burying her face in your chest and whispering things she’d never admit otherwise.

“you’re too good for me, y’know that?” she might mutter, her voice trembling. but when you reassure her with gentle words and a soft touch, she’s reminded why she loves you. your warmth and stability are the anchor she didn’t know she needed.

your relationship is a chaotic mix of explosions and tenderness. jinx pulls you into her world of unpredictability, but you keep her grounded with your steady presence. she loves dragging you into mischief, whether it’s painting graffiti together, dancing in the middle of nowhere, or sneaking into forbidden places.

but she also treasures the quieter moments—lying in bed with you after a long day, tracing patterns on your skin while you tell her about your dreams. she might not always show it, but she feels safe with you in a way she’s never felt before.

you’re her balance, her softness, her light in the darkness, and she’d burn the world down to keep you by her side.

jinx flirts like it’s a game—half playful, half a test to see just how flustered she can make you. she’ll call you “my big, dumb teddy bear” or smirk while pulling you into her lap, completely reversing the dynamic. she thrives on teasing, whether it’s leaning close to whisper something suggestive in your ear or playfully poking your muscles and going, “damn, who knew softies could be so jacked?”

she’ll also steal your things—your jacket, your tools, maybe even your favorite snack—and hold them hostage until you chase her around to get them back.

jinx struggles with traditional ways of expressing love, so her declarations come out in odd, heartfelt ways. she’ll gift you a customized gadget she made (probably shaped like a heart or painted in her signature colors). or she’ll carve your initials into something—whether it’s a wall, a gun, or the side of a building.

she’s also the type to ramble when she’s feeling particularly vulnerable, blurting out, “you’re the only one who doesn’t run away from me. i don’t know what i’d do if i lost you.”

jinx adores your pure-hearted nature, but she’s also endlessly fascinated by how gentle you are despite your size and strength. she’ll poke fun at you for being a “big ol’ marshmallow,” but she secretly loves how you’re the only person who doesn’t try to fix her or fear her.

whenever you blush at her teasing or fumble over your words, it absolutely delights her. she’ll lean in close, grinning like a cat, and coo, “aww, look at you, all shy. you’re so freakin’ cute, it’s disgusting.”

jinx gets wildly possessive, but in her own chaotic way. if someone flirts with you, she’s not above causing a scene—whether that’s scaring them off with an explosive or casually slinging an arm around your waist and saying, “sorry, she’s mine. better luck next time.”

she’ll also tease you afterward, pinching your cheek and smirking, “you’re so oblivious, it’s adorable. don’t worry, I’ll keep the vultures off ya.”

jinx doesn’t always know how to handle emotions, but when she sees you upset, it flips a switch in her. she’ll do everything in her power to cheer you up, from dragging you out on a wild adventure to building something ridiculous just to make you laugh.

if you need quiet comfort, she’ll fidget at first, unsure of what to do. eventually, though, she’ll climb into your lap or wrap herself around you, resting her head on your shoulder. her voice will be softer than usual as she says, “you’re too good for all this, y’know? but you’ve got me, and I don’t let go of my people. ever.”

even though she teases you for being the soft one, jinx will go absolutely feral if anyone tries to hurt you. her size doesn’t matter—she’ll throw herself into danger without a second thought to protect you.

afterward, she’ll act like it was no big deal, grinning and saying something like, “you’ve gotta stop being so cute; it makes people wanna mess with you. don’t worry, though—I’ll blow them sky-high next time.”

jinx hides her insecurities behind laughter and bravado, but there are moments when she crumbles, and you’re the only one she trusts to see her like that. on bad days, she’ll curl up against you, clutching your shirt like a lifeline as she whispers, “do you think I’m too far gone? like… maybe I’m just broken, and nothing’s gonna fix me.”

your presence is the only thing that calms her during these spirals. when you hold her and reassure her that she’s enough, that she’s loved, it’s like a balm to her fractured mind. she doesn’t say it outright, but you’re the one thing keeping her tethered to reality.

jinx isn’t used to affection being so genuine and sweet, so when you lean down and kiss her mid-sentence or while she’s scheming, it throws her off completely. her cheeks flush pink, and she stumbles over her words, trying to cover it up with her usual sass: “w-what was that for, huh? trying to distract me? it won’t work—okay, maybe it will.”

when you pick her up—whether it’s to help her reach something high or because she’s refusing to move—she pretends to protest, but inside, she’s swooning. she’ll cross her arms and grumble, “hey, I can reach that myself!” but the way she clings to you says otherwise.

when you casually tell her how clever or beautiful she is, it catches her completely off guard. she’ll try to brush it off with a sarcastic remark, but her eyes light up, and she gets this shy little smile. deep down, your words mean more to her than she’ll ever admit.

if someone so much as looks at her the wrong way, you step in, your soft heart turning fiercely protective. the sight of you—taller, stronger, and absolutely devoted to keeping her safe—makes her heart skip a beat. she’ll tease you about being her “knight in shining armor,” but the way she clings to your arm afterward gives her away.

jinx absolutely loves resting on top of you at night. it doesn’t matter how big or strong you are; she’ll drape herself over you like a cat, her head on your chest and her arms wrapped around your waist.

she loves listening to your heartbeat—it’s her favorite sound, and it calms her in ways she can’t explain. sometimes she’ll absentmindedly trace shapes on your skin with her fingers, her voice soft and sleepy as she murmurs things like, “you’re too good for me, y’know that? but I’m not letting you go.”

if you run your fingers through her hair or wrap your arms around her, she’s gone—completely melted. she might grumble about being too comfortable to move in the morning, but she wouldn’t trade it for the world.

there’s a moment every so often when you do something completely you—like laughing at one of her jokes, smiling at her with that sweet, pure expression, or carrying her without a second thought—and it hits her just how much she loves you.

she won’t say it outright, but she’ll press a quick kiss to your cheek or pull you close, her voice softer than usual as she says, “don’t ever change, okay? I like my big, dumb teddy bear just the way she is.”

you’re the light in her chaotic world, the one thing she never knew she needed, and she’ll do everything in her power to keep you by her side—even if it means putting her wild heart on the line.

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merakijinx · 8 months ago

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Easily my favorite post ever— I love how well-written it is, and how there are different perceptions (is that the right word) for the reader, it’s pretty, and Jinx is accurate here

Jinx’s take on birthdays

H E A D C A N O N S

「 ✦ Jinx x birthday girl!reader (ft. Isha!) ✦ 」

author’s note: this is my birthday gift to myself, so happy 21st to me! a day late, but the energy is here 🍰 it’s a hefty “birthdays by Jinx” guide, trust. everybody’s included

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

── .✦ in general

⭑.ᐟ Jinx is unpredictable and spontaneous, but she’d put a lot of effort into making you feel special. It wouldn’t necessarily be traditional, but it would scream Jinx’s personal touch. Expect creative, maybe even over-the-top plans.

⭑.ᐟ She’d probably start scheming weeks in advance. She would try to keep it a secret but might accidentally drop hints—giggling to herself or testing out her surprise explosives in the middle of the night.

⭑.ᐟ On the day of, she’d be buzzing with energy, maybe even more excited than you. She’d be jumping around, barely able to contain herself, and constantly checking to make sure everything’s “just right”.

⭑.ᐟ Chaotic wake-up call. Jinx wouldn’t just wake you up—she’d startle you awake. Maybe it’s a mini firework going off, “HAPPY BIRTHDAY!” screamed at the top of her lungs, or her jumping onto the bed while tossing confetti in the air. She’d think it’s hilarious.

⭑.ᐟ She would wake up early to attempt to make breakfast in bed, and it’d be a mess. The pancakes might come out misshapen, the eggs might be slightly burnt, and the kitchen might look like a warzone, but she’d serve the meal with the biggest, proudest grin, sticking sparklers in it.

– “Chef Jinx, at your service! Presentation’s… optional.”

⭑.ᐟ She would tease you all day with “hints” about what’s coming—big dramatic gestures, mysterious grins, and exaggerated secrecy.

⭑.ᐟ Alternatively, she’d pretend to forget about the birthday at first, just to make the reveal more dramatic.

⭑.ᐟ Jinx might attempt to bake a cake—or something resembling one. It’d probably have lopsided layers, mismatched decorations, and way too much frosting, but she’d remind you it was baked with love. Surprisingly, it ends up tasting quite good, all things considered. She insists on lighting so many candles that it becomes a literal bonfire.

– “Make a BIG wish!”

⭑.ᐟ Jinx would pour her heart out into making a gift. Maybe it’s a painted gadget, a weapon engraved with your initials, or a music box that hums your favorite tune. / She would try her hand at crafting something wearable—a necklace made from colorful wires and gears or a bracelet with tiny charms representing your relationship. / She might secretly collect mementos from your time together—photos, doodles, or little objects from your dates. She’d throw them into a scrapbook and complete it with her graffiti-style art.

⭑.ᐟ Isha would work on a small handmade gift for you as well—a simple drawing or a decorated trinket like a painted stone or a flower crown. She’d try to give it to you directly but hesitate, clinging to Jinx’s sleeve.

– “What are you waiting for, kid? Go give it to her!” And Isha would finally step forward, holding out the gift with both hands and a bashful smile.

⭑.ᐟ The birthday card would be a mix of chaotic doodles and messy handwriting. Jinx might overthink the message, so she’d stick with keeping it short and sweet.

“I suck at words, but you make me feel lucky. Thanks for sticking around, you weirdo. ꨄ︎ Love you. — Jinx :Þ”

⭑.ᐟ She would secretly paint an enormous mural on a wall in Zaun or Piltover, featuring your likeness surrounded by bold, neon colors and chaotic designs. It’d say something cheeky like, “the best girlfriend in Zaun (and Piltover—fight me)”.

⭑.ᐟ If someone tries to upstage her efforts—whether with gifts or plans—she would get hilariously pouty and competitive.

– “Oh, that’s cute, but did they make you a flamethrower? Didn’t think so.”

⭑.ᐟ If anyone else tries to monopolize your attention for too long (even for innocent birthday wishes), she might get possessive and interrupt, playing it off as a joke.

– “Okay, okay, enough. She’s MY birthday girl.”

⭑.ᐟ Jinx would be extra overprotective on your special day, constantly holding your hand or slinging an arm around your shoulders. She’s not only protecting you but your “birthday vibes” as well (her words). She scowls if anyone so much as looks at you funny.

– “You want a birthday beatdown, huh?”

⭑.ᐟ She would absolutely wear a birthday hat all day, and she’d insist you wear one too.

⭑.ᐟ She would write a chaotic, nonsensical birthday song and perform it with full dramatic flair, banging on random objects to create a “beat.”

– “This song’s copyrighted—only for you, babe!”

⭑.ᐟ Jinx would stick to you like glue, constantly poking you, dragging you to see surprises, and showering you with compliments.

– “Wow, your face is so birthday today. Like, insanely cute. Unfair, really.”

– “You’re so perfect, it’s disgusting.”

⭑.ᐟ She might hijack a Piltover broadcast or Zaun’s speakers to publicly shout out your birthday.

⭑.ᐟ She would watch your reactions to everything she planned, grinning like a proud kid.

– “Do you like it? Tell me you like it! C’mon—smile for me!”

⭑.ᐟ She keeps shouting, “IT’S HER BIRTHDAY!” every time someone enters the room, even if it’s someone who already knows.

⭑.ᐟ No matter how chaotic the day is, Jinx would genuinely want you to feel loved and appreciated. She’d get quiet for a moment at the end of the day, letting her vulnerability show.

– “I don’t always get things right, but… you’re my favorite person. So, yeah. Happy birthday, babe.”

⭑.ᐟ As long as there’s leftover cake, she’ll keep celebrating.

– “What do you mean your birthday is over? How am I eating a birthday cake slice, then?”

── .✦ Jinx planning a surprise birthday party

⭑.ᐟ Jinx would throw a chaotic but fun party with a theme that makes sense only to her. Think: “sharks with birthday hats”.

⭑.ᐟ Or, she’d mix everything you like to make a big, nonsensical theme. Think: your favorite animals/colors/anything relating to your interests in one big concoction. (thanks bunny!!<3)

⭑.ᐟ She would talk a mile a minute about her ideas, constantly glancing at Isha to see if she’s keeping up. Isha, sitting cross-legged on the floor, would enthusiastically point to certain parts of Jinx’s sketches or mimic explosions with her hands to signal she loves the idea of fireworks.

⭑.ᐟ Isha would be Jinx’s undercover operative, spying on your preferences.

⭑.ᐟ Jinx would drag Isha into a crafting frenzy. They’d make mismatched decorations like paper chains and confetti cannons. Isha would quietly fold a bunch of origami animals to scatter around as subtle decorations, which Jinx would “improve” by adding googly eyes to practically all of them. Can’t forget the banner that says “YOU’RE THE BOMB” (because of course).

⭑.ᐟ Jinx would initially want to handle everything herself, believing that only she could make the party perfect. She’d get flustered when things went wrong but stubbornly refuse to admit she needed assistance.

⭑.ᐟ If things got overwhelming, she might swallow her pride and reluctantly ask for help in last-minute desperation, though it’d come out dramatically.

– “Okay, fine! I need backup.”

⭑.ᐟ To keep the party secret, she would assign ridiculous code names to everything.

the party = “Operation Boom Bash”

the cake = “Project Frosty Delight”

you = “Target Hot Stuff”

⭑.ᐟ She would treat it like a mission briefing, but she’d be annoyingly cryptic with her instructions.

– “Okay, so I need, like, three gallons of paint, a live shark—just for a minute!—and maybe some cupcakes.”

– “How is the live shark a must-have for a birthday party, but cupcakes are a ‘maybe’?”

– “No questions!”

⭑.ᐟ Jinx would be offended if anyone tried to suggest a different idea. She was your girlfriend, after all, and she only wanted the best for you. But she quickly realizes that her demands are nearly impossible to meet, so she tones them down to avoid making the party a disaster. Accepting the help is her way of showing she’s trying to be a better person for you. She wants to show she can do something right.

– “I just want her to be happy, you know? I need this to be right.”

⭑.ᐟ DIY invitations. Jinx would hand-make wild, artistic invitations for the party, even if it’s just for you. They’d be chaotic masterpieces—probably involving glitter and graffiti-like design, with Isha sneaking a doodle of you, Jinx, and herself on the back. Jinx would only invite people she knows you like, even if it means threatening them to RSVP with notes like, “Show up or get kaboomed. <3 Jinx.”

⭑.ᐟ The day of the celebration, she might hand out “party favors” for any friends who join—small, colorful explosives or confetti grenades.

– “Take one! They’re mostly harmless!”

⭑.ᐟ Jinx would constantly check in with you because she’d be genuinely worried about messing things up despite her confidence.

– “You havin’ fun? You like it? How ‘bout now?”

– “You’re smiling, so I guess that means I didn’t screw this up, right?”

⭑.ᐟ She’d pull Isha aside occasionally to ask her to “spy” on guests to make sure no one was causing trouble.

– “Okay, short stack, go check on the snack table and make sure no one’s hogging the chips.”

⭑.ᐟ Isha would quietly insist on getting a slice of cake to give you herself, practically shoving it into your hands with a big smile.

⭑.ᐟ During a toast for you, Isha would quietly raise her glass (even if it’s just juice) and look at you with a shy smile, gesturing a little “cheers” with her cup.

⭑.ᐟ Isha would be in charge of keeping guests entertained while Jinx set up bigger surprises. She would direct people with expressive gestures, and they would end up following her lead because she’s so animated and endearing. She’d shoo them away to the dance floor or hand out drinks with glow-stick stirrers.

⭑.ᐟ Jinx would constantly circle back to you to check if you need anything.

– “You still good, babe? Need more cake? A drink? Someone thrown out?”

⭑.ᐟ Isha would trail after you for a bit, helping out in small ways, like passing you a drink or brushing confetti off your shoulder, subtly showing her affection.

⭑.ᐟ If anyone tried to make the party about themselves or annoyed you, Jinx would intervene immediately.

– “Go eat some cake and zip it.”

⭑.ᐟ Isha would stick close to you during parts of the party, mirroring Jinx’s protective instincts. If someone approached who looked suspicious (in her eyes), she would cross her arms, glare, and shake her head like a little bodyguard. Jinx calls it “the Isha test”.

⭑.ᐟ Jinx would rope Isha into playful pranks, like sneaking up behind guests and tossing glitter at them.

⭑.ᐟ She would start spontaneous dance-offs, grabbing you and spinning you around just to hear you laugh.

– “Dance with me, birthday girl! Don’t make me embarrass myself alone!”

⭑.ᐟ She would be darting around and hyping up the crowd, while Isha acted as her silent shadow, handing out sparklers or checking up on the games.

– “Ladies and gentlemen, step right up! And by step up, I mean do what the kid tells you—she’s in charge of this one!”

⭑.ᐟ Jinx would stick to traditional party games and activities but add her own twist to them each time, no matter how trivial.

“bomb pong” ➪ her version of beer pong, where she’d paint the ping pong balls to look like mini bombs.

“truth or chaos” ➪ self-explanatory. She would make sure you only got fun or flattering dares, even being flirty and teasing with them.

– “Oh no, you chose chaos? That means you have to kiss the coolest person at this party.” And you both know it’s her.

trivia game ➪ Jinx would want to show off how much she knows about you. The catch? Half the trivia questions would also be about herself just to test you, too.

– “Okay, bonus round—what’s my favorite thing to blow up?!”

Glow-in-the-dark darts and lit up board just because she could. If you point out the dangerous side of the game—especially with little Isha running around—she’d groan loudly but relent, setting up a glow-in-the-dark ring toss instead.

She’d hang a homemade piñata filled with tiny trinkets and candy. Everyone would take turns blindfolded, with Jinx calling out unhelpful directions like: “Swing left! No, your other left!”. She’d make sure you got the first and last swing.

⭑.ᐟ Jinx would be cheering you on during every activity and heckling the opponents, while Isha would root for you by miming cheers and clapping her hands. If you won a round, Isha would leap into the air and give you a medal she crafted beforehand.

⭑.ᐟ Like the mini-Jinx she is, she would periodically check on you, giving you a thumbs-up or tapping your shoulder to make sure you’re having fun.

⭑.ᐟ If you seemed overwhelmed, Isha would grab Jinx’s arm and point to you, miming a timeout gesture. She would sit quietly nearby, offering her company without being intrusive.

⭑.ᐟ After the chaos of the party, Jinx would unwind next to you on the couch, resting her head on your shoulder while little Isha napped, curled up in your side, making you both grin.

– “Looks like you’ve got another fan, huh?”

── .✦ birthday girl!reader who wants a low-key celebration

⭑.ᐟ If you didn’t want a big party or over-the-top surprises for your birthday, it would definitely take Jinx a moment to recalibrate.

⭑.ᐟ She might struggle to understand why you don’t want a big celebration. She’d look genuinely puzzled, her mind racing to adjust her usual plans.

⭑.ᐟ Once she accepts that you prefer a low-key celebration, she would throw herself into making a quiet day special. It might take some effort for her to tone down her usual chaotic energy, but she’d do it because it’s what you want for your special day.

⭑.ᐟ Jinx would constantly ask questions to figure out what you consider “too much.”

– “Okay, so like, if I draw a heart on the wall in paint, is that over-the-top? No? Cool. What if I set the heart ablaze? …Too far? Got it.”

– “Would it be too much if I put your name in lights? Or not enough?”

⭑.ᐟ She’d be extra gentle and overly concerned at times, to the point of being funny. She’d fidget nervously, constantly checking in. She’s worried about getting it too wrong.

– “Are you sure you’re okay with this? I mean it’s cool, it’s chill, but like… you’re sure?”

⭑.ᐟ Super simplified decorations. After easing her anxieties, Jinx would decorate with a single balloon or one small banner just because she thinks it’s hilarious. She’d point at it dramatically, bragging about how she’s “reinventing minimalism”.

⭑.ᐟ Jinx would leave funny little notes in random spots to quietly show you she’s thinking about you.

inside your favorite book: “Reading? On your birthday? Wow, nerd alert. (Just kidding, keep being the smartest, cutest, book-loving babe ever.)”

by the light switch: “Every time you turn this light on, think about how you light up my life. Too cheesy? Deal with it, it’s your birthday!”

on a snack bag: “Munch away, birthday girl! Each bite makes you 10x more adorable. SCIENCE FACT.”

on the bathroom door: “Birthday bathroom breaks are scientifically proven to be 20% better than regular ones. FACT. Don’t ask how I know.”

The scientist behind the studies? None other than Jinx herself.

⭑.ᐟ Jinx would give you small gifts throughout the day instead of all at once. She’d say it’s a “drip-feed of love” to “keep the birthday vibes alive”.

⭑.ᐟ Jinx would plan something like an art date. She would take you to a hidden spot where you could graffiti together. She’d bring spray paints and help you come up with a tag that matches her monkey one.

⭑.ᐟ Jinx might quietly admire you during the day, suddenly feeling overwhelmed with her feelings for you.

– “Y’know, I like this. Just us. You’re kinda… everything.”

⭑.ᐟ If you wanted to stay in, she wouldn’t mind just spending the day relaxing together in her hideout. She’d insist on building a “birthday pillow fort” and filling it with snacks, blankets, and fairy lights, creating a cozy little haven.

– “Just you, me, and some snacks. It’s a date. A birthday date!”

⭑.ᐟ Well, it was a date until Isha felt left out and peeked her head out from the entrance, which made you promptly pull her into the pillow fort.

⭑.ᐟ Jinx would focus on spending uninterrupted time with you—talking, laughing, and just enjoying the day together. She’d cherish the calm moments, even if it’s not her usual speed. She might actually enjoy the slower pace, realizing it gives her more time to focus on you.

– “This is nice. I don’t gotta share you with anyone else today. Well, except short stack over here.”

⭑.ᐟ Since you don’t want anything big, Jinx would ditch the giant cake and instead stick a candle in a cupcake, donut, or even a sandwich.

⭑.ᐟ If you’re worried about Jinx not having fun with a quiet birthday, she would quickly shut that down.

– “What, me? Bored? Nah, babe. I’d sit in total silence if it meant hanging out with you.”

⭑.ᐟ By the end of the day, Jinx would be extra soft and sentimental, realizing she doesn’t need a big party to make you happy.

– “I don’t care what we do, as long as it’s with you.”

── .✦ birthday girl!reader who hates birthdays

⭑.ᐟ Initially, Jinx would be thrown off guard—she would be baffled. Expect a lot of teasing questions and remarks to test your boundaries or to try to make you laugh, diffusing the tension of the day.

– “What did birthdays ever do to you? Did a balloon pop in your face as a kid? Was there a cake betrayal I need to know about?”

– “If you hate birthdays, does that mean I don’t get to wear a party hat? Because I look really good in a party hat.”

– “What do you call someone who hates birthdays? You! Wait, no, seriously—is there a word for that? Birth-a-phobic? Cake-averse? Anti-balloonian?”

– “What do you want to do on your birthday? Oh wait—you probably want to boycott it. My bad.”

– “Can I still blow up balloons? Asking for a very sneaky clown.”

– “So, if we can’t celebrate your birthday, can I just celebrate mine again?”

– “What’s worse: hating birthdays or admitting it to someone like me? I mean, now I have to mess with you.”

⭑.ᐟ If you opened up about why you hated birthdays, she would actually listen and try to understand. She would struggle at first but ultimately stick to your wishes. She will try to come up with other ideas to make you feel cared about regardless.

⭑.ᐟ She would leave a card that says: “This is NOT a birthday card. It’s just me reminding you that you’re the coolest person ever. Luv, Jinx.”

⭑.ᐟ Subtle “not birthday” gestures. Jinx would sneak in small, low-key things to make you smile without drawing attention to the day. She would spend the entire day being extra affectionate without outright acknowledging your birthday.

Random hugs.

Leaving little flowers on the table without saying a word.

Bringing you your favorite drinks or snacks, then casually walking away like it’s no big deal.

Leaving a tiny, heartfelt note that says, “I love you every day, not just today.”

⭑.ᐟ However, it would be hard for her not to be suspicious at times. She would quietly slip a thoughtful little gift into your bag with a note that says, “Not a birthday present. Just because.”

⭑.ᐟ Accidental overstepping happens. Jinx might slip up and do something mildly celebratory out of habit, like throwing confetti or humming the birthday tune. If you got upset, she would immediately backtrack.

– “Wait, wait, wait—don’t be mad! It’s not a birthday thing! It’s just… a ‘you’ thing!”

⭑.ᐟ While you cuddle in bed at the end of the day, Jinx can’t help herself from wishing you a happy birthday but in a safe way.

– “You hate birthdays, but I love you. So, thanks for being born. Even if you hate me saying it.”

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