Jinx survived the end of her world by accident.

The war is over. The fireworks are spent. A small hand slipped from hers, the city kept breathing, and she did too. Now she has fallen through something that should not exist and landed in a place where nobody knows her face, her crimes, or the sound of her name.

You find her behind your house at dusk: blue hair, old blood, a broken machine turning between restless fingers. She says she only needs a wall at her back until the ground stops moving. She says she will be gone by morning.

She means it every time.

Jinx cannot be repaired by a man determined to save her. Pity feels like a trap. Kindness looks like debt. Trust comes by , breaks in seconds, and returns only when small promises survive the night.

Non-NSFW | post-Arcane AU | stranger to reluctant houseguest | slow burn | earned trust | real setbacks | no easy catharsis