Chapter Text
Morning smelled of wood resin and tart flowers, and the air was so clean that Jinx caught herself breathing deeper than usual, not out of tension, but simply with pleasure. Inside, it was unexpectedly calm, as if the whole world had paused to let her feel… normal.
They and Ziggs were supposed to fly out on the airship tomorrow, heading toward Piltover, truly heading home, to Zaun.
But their departure was delayed just as long as it took her to wander the alleys of the tiny Ionian town, spot a sign with a faded character, and almost automatically fixate on the open door of a workshop. The scent of ink, fresh soot, and something dusty hit her immediately.
“Don’t tell me you want to get a dragon tattoo… on your butt,” Ziggs muttered, stepping to her side.
“Nuh-uh,” Jinx drawled, squinting. “Not on the butt. More here,” she traced a finger up her shoulder to her collarbone, “just right.”
“Oh.”
Jinx stepped inside as if pulled.
“I want it… like a mark of victory. Over that scarecrow. Over myself. Over all this madness. Bullets. Pink. Amid the clouds.”
“Bullets, a sign, like a new movement in Ionian philosophy?” Ziggs grumbled, but followed. “The Dao of Jinx.”
The shop smelled of oil, metal, and ash.
The artisan was old, with a face etched in wrinkles and a distorted spiral tattoo winding around his temple. He nodded silently, listened as she explained what she wanted, then croaked, “Sit,” pointing to a cushion by the wall. His hands were strong and steady, just slightly trembling, until he took up the needle.
As the needle whispered across her skin, Jinx half-lost herself. The master worked quickly, precisely, and to her surprise, almost painlessly. Maybe it was magic, or she was just too tired to feel anything stronger than a burn. Nearby, Ziggs chatted with some incense vendor while she stared at the ceiling, replaying her recent dream: flowers. Shadows. Isha beside her.
“You’ve got an unhealed mark,” the artisan said suddenly, voice soft as breathing. He didn’t look at her; he gently traced the faint scar along her shoulder—one of those thin, almost-faded gashes.
“A demon touched you.”
Jinx raised her head, staring at him.
“Plenty of folks have touched me, old man,” she tried to smirk, but it came out crooked. “That wasn’t a demon, it was… a pissed-off kitty.”
The tattooist’s expression darkened; still not looking up, he continued tracing the needle across her shoulder, as though extending a ritual.
“Sometimes it isn’t what’s inside that clings to us, but what we once let too close.”
Jinx turned toward the wall. She knew where that mark came from, Evelynn, that filthy parasite. But if she’d driven off Fiddlesticks, this one wouldn’t be any stronger.
“I’ve already burned my ghosts,” she whispered through clenched teeth.
When the work was done, the artisan set aside his tools. She rose and looked at herself in the mirror. It was exactly how she wanted: bold and vivid. But for her, it was more than just beautiful.
Jinx took the chopper, her chopper, from her belt. The flower was still between its teeth, fragile and alive. It had stayed with her since that night and hadn’t withered.
She would keep that, too, as a reminder: even inside something made for destruction, life can take root.
***
~ Night. Somewhere overhead.~
A couple of days later, their airship glided through the clouds like a forgotten toy of the gods. Jinx slept across the bunk against the metal plating, one leg dangling, breathing uneven, her hand pressed under her cheek.
Sleep didn’t come right away, but when it did, it washed over her gently like a warm wave.
He was there, his arms around her waist; strong, dependable. She was standing, Ekko behind her, pressing his body close, his fingers tracing her stomach and upward. Jinx breathed faster, arching into him, turning her head to catch his kiss, hesitant, soft, yet with that taste she dreamt of. Her hands found his neck, intertwining fingers. She knew this rhythm, that warmth. It belonged to them both.
“Ekko…” she whispered, fingers gripping his hair, moving with his thrusts inside her. “Damn you…”
But he didn’t answer.
Suddenly…he vanished.
The sensations remained, hands on her body, lips on her neck, but they weren’t his. The movement slowed unnaturally. The tongue was too long. The claws…
“Ekko?” Jinx’s voice cracked as she looked behind her.
Naturally, it wasn’t him.
Blood-red lips curled into a smile.
Evelynn stood before her in her true form: eclipse-colored skin, piercing yellow eyes burning through the darkness, hot pink flame-hair pulsing. Elongated claws glossy with poisonous light.
Jinx didn’t flinch.
Any fear had left, chased off with Fiddlesticks. Only a thick, searing fury lodged in her throat. She tried to clench her fists, to lurch, but her body didn’t obey. Paralysis gripped her, as if Evelynn had bound her in invisible chains.
“M-mmm…you’ve changed, baby,” Evelynn’s voice was silk across her throat. “You even drove him away. Good girl. You did well.”
Evelynn laughed, licking Jinx’s bottom lip with her long tongue.
“Without him inside, you smell… different. Cleaner. Freer.”
“Stupid bitch…” Jinx hissed between clenched teeth. Her eyes narrowed to slits; nothing but hatred burned there. She wanted to tear her apart with bare hands.
Yet not even her eyelids answered her. She couldn’t close or look away, only watch as Evelynn savored her helplessness.
“O-oh, you are so hot!” The succubus stretched, claws scraping across Jinx’s throat without breaking skin, gentler than a bruise. “You don’t even know how much I missed your… spark.”
“I told you…” Jinx strained every muscle to twitch, but it felt as though invisible stone held her. “…your tricks… don’t work… on me…”
Her words came ragged; Evelynn only laughed.
“Oh, sweetheart, I haven’t even started.”
She dragged claws over Jinx’s chest, teeth sinking but not ripping, just leaving impressions. Almost gentle, almost tender.
The tendrils from her back coiled around Jinx, pressing her hard against Evelynn’s body, around waist, over hips, nearly on her breasts, denying freedom. Those limbs moved slowly as if lovingly, but full of force, probing for access to Jinx’s core, offering entry not just physical, but mental walk-in.
Jinx still couldn’t move, fused to the spot. Her mind spun.
Evelynn pressed her mouth against Jinx’s, like a lover, kissing her mouth’s corner.
“You thought I’d forget that little bordello, baby?” she whispered in Jinx’s ear. “Forget how you humiliated me in front of your precious? Darling, you were so sassy.”
Then her voice cooled:
“I’ll just wait. We’ll meet again, my restless girl.”
Something suddenly snapped, Jinx jolted awake, dripping sweat, tangled hair, breathing ragged.
“Jinx!” Ziggs’ voice thundered. He stood at the door, his whiskers bristling, face lined with tension. “Whatever you were doing, stop! We’ve got trouble!”
“What? What’s going on?”
“I’m telling you the airship’s screaming like its engine’s going to eat itself! We need to land somewhere or it’ll crash us into the water. I know a harbor… Bilgewater. A bit trashy, a bit fishy, but at least not the bottom!”
Jinx touched her chest. No marks. No pain.
“It was just a dream.”
She nodded, shook off the remnants, and headed to the cockpit.
Inside, everything trembled, rattled, and a fan was shrieking desperately.
Complete crap. Ridiculous.
Jinx leaned over the instrument panel, frowning. Everything truly was… off. Like someone secretly tampered, though it couldn’t be.
“Okay,” she said, straightening. “We’re landing. But if we touch someone’s fish… you’re dealing with it. Maybe someone there knows how to fix this flying tin can.”
“I agree! But you insult my engineering pride. We checked everything!”
“That’s the point,” Jinx muttered, looking out the window at the dark night.
Ziggs was shifting levers.
“Just don’t forget, you promised I get to crash into something at least once. On purpose.”
“Fine. We’ll see.”
The airship began descent. The sea below shimmered, but abruptly…it jolted.
Something surfaced, huge, slime-covered, with a fin like a sail. A shadow glided under the ship; it creaked and tilted.
“Hey!” Jinx shouted, racing to the edge. “Is that…a giant frog?”
She had already yanked out chomper, the little guy gave a cranky screech, and with a grin, she hurled him down. With a crunch, it clamped onto something slick, and Jinx fired right after. A burnt tail burst from the water with a splash, a shriek, and a cloud of steam.
“Bon appétit, froggy!” Ziggs called cheerfully from the other side of the deck, lobbing a bomb into the swelling shadow.
Splash.
Steam.
A guttural, angry roar shook the surface, and the creature dove back into the depths, leaving only ripples behind. A few seconds of silence followed.
“Well,” Jinx smirked, sliding her gun back into place, “we were gonna make a strong impression anyway.”
“Maybe it was just a whale?” Ziggs offered innocently.
“Yeah. With tentacles and frog-eyes.”
The airship kept descending now under the rasp of an exhausted engine and the tang of seaweed on the wind. Somewhere ahead in the mist, the lights of Bilgewater flickered into view.
***
After landing, the airship really was in a sorry state. Some components had burnt out, others had just... vanished. As if someone had walked through the engine room leaving not footprints, but riddles.
She and Ziggs got to work, stealing parts, buying a few, assembling, disassembling, arguing, and reassembling again. Working like two egomaniac engineers: one with a lighter between his teeth, the other wielding a wrench like a scalpel.
The malfunctions were strange. Too strange. At some point, Ziggs muttered under his breath:
“Magic. Has to be.”
But he said nothing aloud. Jinx looked calm, even happy. And he didn’t want to ruin the moment.
Instead, he launched into a loud rant about which Heimerdinger parts would fit their engine best, and how, by the way, he and Heimer used to build awesome flying machines even before Jinx was crawling over rooftops.
“Yeah, well, my stuff’s more fun!” she interrupted, grinning and lighting a wire stub for effect. “You sound like an old yordle who lost his teeth but still builds bombs out of spite.”
“Excuse me?!” Ziggs squinted and, without waiting, rapped her on the forehead with his knuckles.
“Hey!” Jinx yelped, grabbing the nearest rag and flinging it at him. “Unprovoked assault!”
“That was a disciplinary measure!” he barked, dodging.
“Oh, that’s it, fuzzball, you’re done.”
She reached for chomper, he grabbed a wrench like a sword, and in seconds they were brawling, loud, messy, childish and ridiculous, squealing and laughing like idiots, drawing annoyed glances from passersby.
“You’re a bomb-brain, not an engineer!” Jinx shouted, catching him in a loose headlock.
“And you’re just a freak explosion that somehow survived!”
No malice in it, just two deranged geniuses on vacation.
***
The night was warm. Jinx sat at the shoreline, legs stretched over the damp sand, lazily watching the reflection of lights ripple across the black water. The sky was starless, only the city behind and the soft creak of the engine breaking the silence. Ziggs was still digging through the guts of the airship, refusing to rest.
She sighed. It was quiet, almost peaceful.
And then...
The air thickened. Heat gathered around her neck, as if someone exhaled on her skin. A salty, rotten smell curled into her nose.
A shadow slid from the water. Not just a shadow, a shape. Massive, with wide fins that didn’t disturb the surface, but her eyes couldn’t look away.
The same monster that attacked them right after arrival?
“So many tasty regrets, little one,” came a voice, thick, oily, slithering like an eel. “You wear them like jewelry. Loss. Guilt. The craving to be close...”
A mouth rose from the sea. Bottomless. Bottomless, but smiling.
“Let me take them,” the creature whispered. A tongue, long and slick, rolled across its lower lip. “Just one word. I’ll lighten your load.”
Jinx stood up. Slowly. Patted her sides for weapons.
“Oh great. Another one,” she muttered with a forced smirk. “What, am I broadcasting on some trauma frequency?”
“You smell like a gourmet therapy session,” the beast all but purred, extending toward her not a hand, but a fin, a tendril.
Jinx didn’t wait.
Chomper flew first. Clamped onto the fin. Blinked red.
One beat, then she shot. The bullet punched into the flesh with a loud pop. Fat splattered.
The monster roared.
“What the hell?!” Ziggs burst out of the airship, clutching something that looked like a pulsing pumpkin. “I just fixed the damn engine!”
He didn’t hesitate. The pumpkin-bomb sailed through the air, exploding in a blinding flash. Smoke billowed, warping the creature’s shape.
It reeled. Left behind black sludge. Grumbling. Hissing.
“I’ll be back when you’re heavy again,” it snarled at Jinx before sinking. “Everything returns. Everything drowns.”
Silence fell. Just the water lapping.
Jinx blew her bangs from her forehead, plopped back onto the sand, and stretched like after a warm-up. After surviving Fiddlesticks, something new was blooming inside her, not just strength, but stability. As if the world couldn’t shake her so easily anymore.
Ziggs flopped down next to her, brushing his paws clean and mumbling:
“Y’know… this isn’t even funny anymore. These demons are getting on my last nerve.”
He patted the airship’s hull.
“Someone out there must’ve handed out your business cards, Jinx. Can’t be anything else.”
“I’ll go burn them,” she snorted. “Or maybe just tattoo ‘Fresh trauma, line forms here’ across my forehead.”
“Oh, brilliant. But lemme fix the stabilizer first. It’s howling louder than that fish-whale.”
Ziggs scratched his chin.
“Could’ve come with a warning. ‘Local demon, now with 100% more hugs and devouring.’” He scoffed. “Then again, makes sense. He didn’t know who he was dealing with.”
Jinx shook her head and smirked.
“Too cocky.”
“I’ve seen that bastard before. Think he called himself… Tahm Kench?”
Jinx giggled.
“Sounds like the name of a fat clown.”
“He’s like… a demonic catfish who eats your trauma and roasts your feelings while he’s at it.”
“Charming,” Jinx chuckled. “You’ve got a gift for metaphors.”
They laughed. And the night became just a night again.
***
A few days later, with the airship finally repaired, they allowed themselves a break. The tools were put away.
Jinx stretched, her shoulders cracking.
“So,” she said. “Wanna grab a drink? Celebrate a little?”
“Like civilized pirates,” Ziggs replied with a smirk.
By evening, they were headed toward the glowing lights of Bilgewater, toward the nearest tavern.
***
~ Bilgewater. “The Old Anchor” Tavern ~
The tavern was loud. It reeked of salty fish, rum, and trouble already done. Someone was shouting, someone else singing, and a sailor was puking in the corner.
Jinx sat rocking on a rickety chair, chin propped on her hand, carving lazy shapes into the already-scarred tabletop with a knife. Ziggs was sipping some cloudy beer and mumbling endlessly about how he could blow up the harbor and rebuild it better, if anyone actually asked him.
“You sure that was beer?” she squinted.
“Pretty sure,” Ziggs hiccuped. “Unless it was lantern fuel.”
And right then, the door creaked open. Ziggs froze. Jinx felt it before she even turned around, how he straightened, fell silent, his gaze fixed.
There she was.
Small frame, confident posture, worn-down uniform. Her familiar cannon slung over her back. Lantern light danced across her face, but Jinx recognized her instantly. Tristana.
The yordle stood in the doorway, her gaze instantly locking onto their table. She glanced at Jinx, upward, with a raised brow and an obvious dose of skepticism. Jinx held her stare, then tilted her head with a crooked grin, as if studying something strange and unexpected.
“Well, that’s a twist,” Jinx muttered, rising. “I’m gonna go see if they’re grilling that chicken alive.”
She clapped Ziggs on the shoulder and strolled off.
Tristana moved closer, slowly, clearly weighing whether she even wanted to get involved. Next to Jinx, her height seemed almost funny, but there was something in her stride, her stare, that made Jinx narrow her eyes slightly. This yordle was not one to be underestimated.
“Didn’t think I’d see you here,” Tristana said, addressing Ziggs.
“Yo, Tris, what a reunion.” Ziggs raised his brows. “Let me introduce you. This is my turbulent partner in recent crimes: Jinx. Jinx, meet Tristana. The loudest reason explosions still aren’t banned in Bandle City. Yet.”
Tristana nodded, narrowing her eyes briefly.
“Not exactly who I expected to find at your side.”
“Well, you’re not exactly who I expected to run into either,” Jinx replied lazily. “But hey. Life’s full of surprises.”
Jinx headed deeper into the tavern, pointedly leaving them to it.
Tristana slid into the seat across from Ziggs and set her cannon down beside her like an old friend.
“Beer,” she called out to the bartender, and caught the flying mug without even looking. Foam sloshed over the side, but she didn’t flinch.
Ziggs immediately nodded at the cannon.
“Still lugging that thing around?”
“She’s more reliable than most people,” Tristana tapped the weapon’s side. “I just keep tweaking her. And you? Still kissing your bombs before launch?”
“Only the deserving ones.”
They grinned in sync.
Tristana raised her mug.
“To those still standing.”
Ziggs clinked his against hers.
“And to those still blowing things up.”
They drank deep, eyes never leaving each other. The years melted away like this was just another night in their old routine.
Ziggs set his mug down and let out a loud burp, so loud even the bartender flinched.
Tristana raised a brow.
“Still the same rude sack of bombs after all this time.”
“Hey, it’s tradition!” Ziggs grinned, patting his belly. “If you don’t burp after the first sip, it doesn’t count. You forgot?”
Tristana laughed, leaning back. Ziggs giggled, pleased with himself.
“I heard you were in Bandle City last year,” she said. “Didn’t even try to find me? Seriously, Ziggs?” Her tone wasn’t accusing. Not quite.
Ziggs scratched his head, ruffling his already-messy fur.
“I didn’t know if I should.”
“You’re an idiot,” she said, but without malice.
“Yeah, heard that one before.”
He gave her a lopsided smile.
“So, how’s Teemo? Still flirting? Or are you two finally hitched?”
Tristana looked genuinely confused.
“What is it with you and that idea? We’re just friends. Work together. He’s not even my type. Quit fantasizing.”
“Fantasies are all I’ve got, especially with a detonator in my paws.”
She rolled her eyes. But then, for a second, her expression softened.
“You really haven’t changed.”
“And you got taller?”
“Hah. Hilarious,” she smirked, but there was warmth in her voice.
“So what’re you doing here in Bilgewater?” Ziggs tilted his head.
Tristana shrugged, like she didn’t want to explain.
“Important mission. Already wrapped up. Heading back.”
“To Bandle City?”
“Yeah,” she nodded. “What about you?”
“Unplanned detour,” he waved a paw. “We’re headed home. To Zaun.”
Tristana raised a brow.
“You call that place home now?” There was maybe a bit of judgment in her tone.
“Well… yeah,” Ziggs scratched behind his ear. “Kinda. We’ve got... stuff going on there.”
Her gaze flicked toward Jinx. A thin smirk tugged at her lips.
“I heard she blew up the Council in Piltover. If it’s really her.”
“She’s not so bad when she’s not throwing grenades at you,” Ziggs shrugged.
“Uh-huh. Sounds… exciting,” Tristana smirked. “Looks like you got yourself into something big. And questionable.”
They chatted a bit more. But Tristana kept glancing at the door, not because she wanted to leave, but the opposite. She liked sitting there, throwing barbs at Ziggs, like old times.
But important things waited beyond the tavern walls.
When Jinx returned, a piece of fried something in her hand, she didn’t look at Tristana.
“All good?” she asked Ziggs.
“All good,” he replied, grinning.
Tristana stood, grabbing her cannon.
“I should go.”
“It was cool seeing you again, Tris,” Ziggs said quietly.
“If you come to Bandle, don’t be a jerk. I’m always glad to see you.”
She was almost to the door when she turned, tossed a wink over her shoulder.
“Hey… watch where you're exploding, Ziggs.”
Then she was gone.
“Well,” Jinx said, sliding back into her seat. “Pretty sure she’s still sparking for you.”
Ziggs snorted and pretended to examine his mug.
“Pretty sure she just has excellent taste.”
He grinned.
“I did blow up a whole tower for her once.”
“Wow,” Jinx said. “Romantic.”
***
They returned to Zaun together, as usual: in a patched-up airship that creaked a bit, but still held in the air. Their journey was over, but there were no big goodbyes. The city welcomed them again with soot, weight, and familiar noise.
Jinx crossed her arms, watching as Ziggs fiddled with a wrench in his backpack, clearly dragging things out.
“Hey, Fuzzball. I can’t seem to remember how we even met. Did you sneak onto my airship or something?”
Ziggs snorted without looking up.
“Yeah, forget it. We nearly killed each other. You were shooting, I was tossing bombs… Just another Tuesday.”
Jinx smirked.
“Kinda feels like I’ve known you forever.”
Ziggs finally looked at her, raising one fuzzy brow.
“That’s because I’m like an old bomb in your backpack. You get used to me, can’t throw me away, and then, boom, half the city’s gone.”
Jinx snorted, but something tightened in her chest. No more falling asleep to his snoring. No more morning arguments about “the proper way to detonate.”
“Okay,” she stood abruptly, brushing off her hands. “Just don’t die in some gutter while I’m gone.”
“Oh, hey, that’s my line!” Ziggs flipped the wrench in the air and caught it.
Jinx shook her head, a smile tugging at her lips despite herself.
“Well, I guess I go on from here,” she said.
“Off to the Firelights’ secret lair?” Ziggs gave a crooked smirk. “I know those guys. Posers on air-skateboards.”
Jinx didn’t answer. Just adjusted her belt.
Ziggs stared a moment longer than usual, then shrugged.
“Well, if anything, I’ll probably be crashing at Piltrix’s old warehouse. You know the one that smells like rotten nuts? Used to have an eleven-foot rat? I roasted and ate him. Pretty safe now… maybe. I drop by the Floating Market sometimes. Just ask for the guy who made it smell like fireworks and rotten fish, they’ll point you my way.”
Jinx chuckled.
“Good to know. In case I crave foul air and lunatic company.”
“Not goodbye, right?” he muttered, turning to go.
“Of course not. See ya around, Fuzzball.”
Ziggs didn’t look back. Just waved and vanished around the corner.
Jinx turned too, ready to head her own way, when—
BOOM!
An explosion tore through the quiet night, lighting up the rooftops. Windows rattled. Birds scattered into the smoky sky.
And through the chaos, a gleeful, unmistakable shout rang out:
“YEAH, BABIES! ZIGGS IS BACK IN TOWN!”
Jinx rolled her eyes and smiled, shaking her head.
Then she walked.
She still didn’t know what she expected, but as she stepped into familiar alleys again, her heart still fluttered. The city hadn’t changed. Same fog, same dusty air. Everything in its place, yet everything somehow different.
They said he was alive.
Ekko.
She could turn around right now. Disappear.
But instead, she found herself at his base, slipping inside, unnoticed. She was in his room before she even realized it. Standing in the dark.
“Just talk. Look him in the eyes. Say ‘hi’ or ‘bye’, whatever comes out first. And maybe… maybe I’ll stop seeing him every night. These stupid dreams. Sometimes we’re just kissing. Sometimes we’re fu—ugh, not the point. Just dreams. Just fantasies. Totally normal. Right?”
Jinx looked around, letting her eyes adjust. Everything was familiar, and yet foreign. The same walls, the same old furniture, but new details too. Tools on the table, a pile of worn books. Messy, but not chaotic.
He’d changed?
Probably.
She moved slowly, brushing her fingers over the surfaces. Almost no dust. Not because he cleaned, but because he wasn’t here much. Just dropped by now and then. To sleep. To change. To leave again.
There was a pillow on the bed. Jinx picked it up, turned it in her hands. Leaned in. Inhaled.
That scent.
She flung it away, like it burned her.
What the hell was she doing?
Maybe he had someone now. Of course he did.
Why should she care?
She hadn’t denied herself anything either. Lux’s bed? Warm. Familiar. A good place to forget.
So why did the thought of him with someone else twist something cold and tight inside her?
Jinx clicked her tongue, annoyed at herself.
None of your business.
And yet... she sat down on his bed. Lay back. Arms out. Staring at the ceiling.
Not your business.
Still, she searched the room for signs.
Time passed, but sleep wouldn’t come. Jinx sighed and buried her face in the cool fabric of the pillow.
And that’s when the door opened.
Her eyes snapped open.
It was him.
For a second, she couldn’t breathe. Her heart slammed into her ribs.
What the hell…
Why is he… why is he so damn beautiful?
He had changed. Not much. But she saw it, in the cut of his shoulders, the look on his face.
They stared at each other in the half-light.
Saying nothing.
And suddenly, it was all the same again.
As if those two years had never happened.
The feelings hit her like a wave.
And she wasn’t ready for them.