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madebycloud · 9 days ago

Text

Next To You

jinx/powder x reader — 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

summary: christmas comes around, you and your girlfriend prepare for a special day with Isha. (requested by anon) warnings/themes: fluff and fluff, domestic, christmas, established relationship, suggestive (making out, innuendo, etc?), modern au, baking, downbad!reader, grumpy!jinx ig but what the hell sure words: 17.6k notes: LATE AF but it is what it is

“Seriously? you want that as the star?” Jinx asks, looking at the star on your hand.

“What? It looks good and it's shiny.”

“It's boring and bland. Nothing special,” she mumbles, walking towards the tree to look for other decorations in a nearby box.

She grumbles while she rummages through the different decorations, tossing aside the ones she didn't like. She pulls out a string of bright pink lights but frowns. Her gaze keeps flickering between the star in your hand and the tree. “We need something new. Something... more.”

She starts looking through the discarded decorations nearby, picking up each and every one only to place it in the trash. “Nothing here? why do we have so many of these stupid things?” She slumps on the couch. “Ughhhhh... can't believe we have these dinky Christmas decorations.”

“That's my money down the drain.” You glance at the amount of decorations the Jinx has discarded. You sigh loudly and sit down next to Jinx, who leans against you.

“All of that was for nothing. So much damn cash wasted.” She groans. “We don't have anything good for the tree. Everything's so shitty.”

“At least the lights look nice.”

Jinx doesn't even glance at them. “There's nothing cool left. It's all so... bleh.” She frowns, kicking a box with her foot. She reaches out and picks up the star in your hands and stares at it. Her face scrunches up. “Look at all this crap. What a waste of money. Everything's just so…” She glances around at the various decorations. “Ordinary.” She lifts her head and gives you a sideways glance. “I'll be damned if that stupid star gets put on top of that tree.”

She tosses the star to the side, watching it roll along the floor. Her eyes flicker from side to side, trying to think of something that'll be a good replacement. She sighs and looks up at the ceiling. “There has to be something better than a star.”

While you're both mulling over options, Isha, who had been quietly playing with her toys, stands up and walks in front of Jinx. She tugs at Jinx's leg, holding up the toy to get her attention. It's a small replica of Fishbones that Jinx made for her.

Jinx looks down at her. She reaches out and grabs it from Isha's hands. “You want this to be the star for our tree?”

She looks up at the tree and then looks down at the toy. She then gets up and stands before the tree. She slowly raises it and tilts it slightly. She nods. “Hmm. Yeah... Maybe…” She looks back at you, holding the toy up with one hand and the other rests on her hip. “What do you think?”

You stand up and walk over to the tree, joining Jinx's side. You look up, and then look at the toy that she's holding. It isn't a normal choice, but it does go with her style. “It's not a bad idea.” You turn back to look at Isha. “What do you think, Isha?”

Isha nods eagerly, grinning widely.

“Well, guess it's decided then!” Jinx says. “You know, this will look even cooler than a boring ass star, huh?”

“Yeah, this kid is a genius.” You approach Isha, lifting her up. Jinx hands the replica to the kid. Isha carefully places the replica on the top of the tree, trying so hard to balance it. Jinx moves in and adjusts it slightly, making sure it's in the best spot.

You set Isha down, ruffling her hair. She swat your hands away, frowning. Once Jinx is satisfied with its placement, she steps back and admires the tree.

She smiles and nudges you with her hip. “Doesn't that look good?” She turns to Isha and nods with a smile. “Good choice, champ!” She then looks over at the pile of discarded decorations, frowning. “Hmm... the others might not match with this.” Jinx thinks for a moment, a finger on her chin. She looks down at the toys Isha had been playing with.

“Hey Isha,” Jinx says, getting her attention. “What if we used some of these toys to decorate too?” She crouches down and looks at the toys scattered on the floor. She starts picking them up one by one, holding them up and examining them closely. “Hmm... These could work…” She mumbles, glancing over at you and the tree.

Small rubber duck, a fish, and a rhino—all toys that she had made for Isha out of scrap materials. She holds each up to the tree, tilting her head, trying to picture how it would look.

She nods to herself. “Yeah. We could use some of these toys.” She turns back to Isha and holds up a duck. “I wonder if we have some ribbons or stuff we can use.” She hands the toy to Isha. “Make sure to hold onto it, okay kiddo?” She ruffles the kid's hair before heading over to a nearby shelf and searching amongst her random junk.

With that decided, you all went to work decorating the tree. Isha tries her best to help, although she can't reach some of the higher branches. You end up putting almost every one of Isha's toys as the ornaments. Isha really likes the blinking lights, so you add a lot of them.

“Almost looks like a rainbow.” Jinx grins, staring at the bright lights. She glances over at you. “Hope we don't break the power with all this electricity.” She snickers. “Not like it hasn't happened before.”

You shrug. It's certainly a possibility, but it wouldn't be the first time it happens. Jinx has the habit of overloading the power in the building with her inventions. It was only a matter of time before it happened. Again.

“If the power goes out, I'm blaming you,” you tease.

She takes things literally when it comes to inventions, and that leads to a bit of strain on the power. You're sure the neighbors are annoyed about it by now.

Jinx jabs you with her elbow. “'Course you would.” She turns her attention back to the Christmas tree while Isha continues to help. She watches Isha struggle to reach the higher branches, and Jinx chuckles. “Kid's got the spirit, at least.”

Isha reaches out, tries to stand on her toes, but still can't reach it. She huffs and glares at the branch.

Jinx watches as Isha struggles. “Hey kiddo,” she says. “Lemme help, alright?” She steps over and lifts Isha up to put the last ornament on the highest branch.

Isha giggles and stretches out her hand to place the last ornament, her fingers grasping at the branch. Jinx holds Isha steady, ensuring she doesn't fall and the tree stays upright.

“There you are,” Jinx says, turning her head to look at Isha. She lowers Isha back down to the ground. “Good work.” She looks over the fully decorated tree. “Well, I think we're almost done here,” she says. “Just need some... Oh!” She glances at a nearby box and grins. “Almost forgot.”

She grabs a marker from somewhere and tears up a nearby box into three pieces, handing one to both you and Isha. “We should draw ourselves,” she mutters. “And put them up on the tree.” She looks at the empty space on the tree near the top and gestures to it.

You sit down on the floor, leaning against the couch, and start drawing on the box, legs stretched out. Jinx follows, sitting down right next to you, her leg draped on top of your own. Isha sits right in front of the tree, her tongue peeking out the corner of her mouth as she works on her drawing.

It's quiet while the three of you draw your own pictures. Jinx leans her head on your side while she works, occasionally peeking over at your drawing and humming to herself.

Once the three of you have finished your drawings, Jinx grabs a pair of scissors to carefully cut the pieces out. “Alright,” she says, “all done.”

She walks over to the tree and reaches up, hanging all three of them. She steps back, putting her hands on her hips, and looks at the tree. She then glances at you and winks in pride.

“What do you think, kiddo? do we look cool?” she asks, turning to look at Isha.

Isha gives a thumbs up, her wide grin showing off her teeth.

Jinx chuckles. “And the artist herself approves.” She stretches her arms. “Now, who's hungry?”

—

“So?” Jinx turns around, letting you take a better look at her Santa Claus costume. The bell on her Santa hat jingles. “How do I look?” she asks, wiggling her eyebrows.

She looks... Ridiculous. Hilarious, but ridiculous.

Jinx adjusts her hat, her fake beard (that's obviously a wig) swinging along with it. The costume looks itchy, but she seems comfortable in it. She grins, posing for you.

“Well,” you start. “I've never seen a Santa's costume quite like that.” You give her costume a once-over. “Though, this is you we're talking about.”

Jinx looks the part of Santa Claus, but it's not the classic outfit you've seen him wear in all those movies, books, and advertising.

Her Santa hat is blue and pink instead of red and white. Her coat is a mix of black, blue, and pink with silver trim. Her pants look like what you'd normally expect from a Santa suit, though they're the same black, blue, and pink colors her coat is but shorter. She's not wearing any boots, choosing her own high-knee boots instead.

She looks like a demented, clownish version of Santa Claus. But she's happy, and it's a good look for her.

“Am I the best Santa or what?” She turns and jingles the bell of her Santa hat. “Ho-ho-ho!”

“The best and the best of the best,” you confirm.

She grins. “I mean, look at me!” She exclaims, holding her arms out. “Doesn't that costume make me look way cooler?” She turns around, giving you a 360. “Way better than all those boring red and white Santas,” she says, turning back to look at you.

She strikes another pose. “Do you think Isha will love it?”

You nod. “She'll love it,” you reply, taking another look at her costume. “She'll love it, because you're wearing it.”

Jinx had the brilliant idea to buy a Christmas costume for Isha, which is why she insisted on getting the costume early to wear on the day of. It's for Isha's sake, of course.

“Of course she will! What child wouldn't want Santa Jinx?” She tugs on her beard. “Anyway…” she says. “Santa can't go around without her trusty reindeers.”

You just know what she's going to say next, and beat her to it before she even considers it. “No, no, no. I am not wearing a costume.”

“Aww, c'mon!” She whines. “We could be Santa and Rudolph the red-nose reindeer together. Santa Jinx and her reindeer buddy.” She pokes your arm. “Won't you do it for Isha?”

You raise your eyebrow at her. She's playing you like a damn fiddle by using Isha's name. You sigh. “...Fine. But only for this Christmas.” That's a bit of a silver lining, at least. This is the only time you'll have to dress up. It's just for Isha. It won't be that bad.

She grins and brings her fingers up to your face to pinch your cheeks. “Yay! Good, now we'll match.” She claps her hands together. “This is going to be a treat and a half! C'mon, you won't regret this.” She grabs your arm and drags you to another aisle, looking around for a costume she thinks will suit you.

She keeps on rambling about how excited she is, mostly about how good she looks.

While walking, people give you both strange looks. After all, seeing a clownish-looking Santa Claus is certainly a sight. You hear someone mutter something along the lines of “What the hell?” under their breath.

She glances at you up and down every now and then, judging which kind would be best. “Gotta find you something nice and Rudolphy.” She browses through the costumes that are hung on the racks, trying to find one that she likes.

After a while, she stops and glances up and down each of the choices before finally settling on one. “This one.” She grabs one from the hanger and holds it up to your chest, observing it, then nodding. “Perfect,” she says. “Put this on, let me see how you look.”

Jinx shoves it into your hands and grabs the reindeer antlers that go along with the costume. She pushes you into the nearest changing room and closes the door on you. You hear her wait on the other side. “Hurry up!” she yells.

There's no running away from this, is there? you don't see any other choice but to put on the damn costume. It's just one day. You can deal with it. It's for Isha anyway. Hopefully your girlfriend doesn't make you wear this for any other occasion.

You grumble as you take off your clothes and put on the costume. It's a bit strange at first, but the costume is pretty similar to a warm sweater. She picks good costumes, you'll admit.

You stand there and stare at yourself in the mirror for a minute.

You look...ridiculous. Utterly and completely ridiculous.

Wearing a goddamn reindeer costume because your girlfriend wanted you to try it on. It's so stupid, yet somehow Jinx pulled off making the costume look good, while yours looks like a bad Halloween costume.

You make a face and scoff at yourself. You're going to look like a total fool and you have a feeling a bunch of people will point and stare.

You can hear Jinx getting impatient from the other side of the door. “How much longer?” This might be more for her entertainment than Isha's Christmas spirit.

You sigh to yourself and grab the reindeer antler headband, putting it on. This is so stupid. Jinx better appreciate this. You take a deep breath and open the door to the changing room.

Jinx waits outside, fidgeting with her hands behind her back. She looks over once the door opens.

She looks you up and down once, twice, three times, then bursts out laughing. “Oh my God, it's... you look... you look,” she says, trying and failing to stop laughing. “You look so cute!” She wheezes. This is absolutely a good decision in her head. This is hilarious, but damn, if it's not cute.

A few people in the store glance at the commotion, wondering why she's laughing so hard.

She grabs your arm and looks over the costume herself, chuckling to herself. “You look adorable.”

As if this couldn't have possibly gotten any more embarrassing, she brings out a red plastic nose with a string attached to it. “Can't forget this little fella.” She brings it up and holds up to your face. “You're not my Rudolph if you don't have a red nose.”

God, she is absolutely reveling in the moment.

You look ridiculous already, what's one more stupid thing? “It looks stupid.” You take the nose from her hand and attach it to your own.

Jinx stifles her laugh, biting her lower lip in an effort to stop herself. “You look so stupid,” she whispers. God knows what people in the building will say.

People are still glancing your way, wondering if you're some kind of cosplay or something... And why is this woman laughing hysterically. You'll say, 'I don't know her', but that will only make it more embarrassing. You just want to walk back home.

There's also a few children who are giggling while looking at you. Probably because they're jealous they aren't wearing a costume.

She takes her phone from her pocket and points it to you. Oh no. “Say 'ho ho ho'!”

You let out a sigh. It's almost a growl from the back of your throat. Damn her. Whatever would make the torture end quicker. “Ho ho ho,” you grumble, forcing a smile.

You hear the camera snap several times. She's smiling so hard it'll be evident that she's enjoying this all too much.

She puts her phone away, looking up at you. “You look so so cute!” She pokes the plastic nose. She then starts walking, still giggling, and glances back over her shoulder. “C'mon, Rudolph, let's keep looking around.”

—

“Finally. Only took half a damn hour for her to go to sleep.” You step back and look at the bedroom door. You've both been trying to get Isha to sleep for what feels like forever. You're both tired, and it's the night before Christmas. Of course she'll be up late.

“Took forever,” Jinx responds.

You have so much to do to prepare. With Isha asleep, the house is quiet. Both of you make your way to the living room to prepare the gifts.

Jinx grabs some wrapping paper, the ones with Christmas themes designed on them, as well as a big roll of scotch tape and some ribbons. You grab the presents you and Jinx plan to give Isha. There's quite a lot, given that it's Christmas. You sit cross-legged on the floor, and Jinx plops down next to you.

She yawns and stretches her arms out in front of her with a groan. “Damn, I can't wait for her to see what we got her.”

She pulls out her phone and searches on it for a while before finding a Christmas song. She presses play and drops her phone on the coffee table. The sound is low enough so it won't wake Isha, but loud enough for you both. She hums and sometimes sings along with the lyrics whenever she knows it.

She starts wrapping the presents, tapping her foot to the music while she puts a bow to it. She rocks her head and shoulders a bit. She put in a lot of effort into gift wrapping, despite it just being torn open in the morning.

You start to wrap your own gifts, but every now and then glance up, watching her.

Jinx wraps the presents one after another. One gift for Isha here, and another over there. “Bet Isha will love this one,” she mutters, adding a tiny bow and then a small piece of mistletoe. She places them all in order underneath the christmas tree, making sure they're nice and proper for tomorrow morning.

Each present has ‘For Isha, From Santa Jinx & Red-nosed Reindeer’ on top in her handwriting.

She yawns and stretches out her arms in front of her, arching her back before getting back to wrapping.

The two of you continue to wrap the gifts.

She talks to you about anything or nothing, just to stay awake. She talks about what Isha will think of the gifts, how much she is going to love all of them. The tree, the costume, everything. At one point, Jinx goes on a rant about some neighbor who keeps playing All I want for Christmas is you on full blast.

She also talks about other things. Stuff that's going on in the building, people you both know, funny stories that happened years ago.

“I've heard that kids believe in Santa til they turn ten.” You put on the finishing touches of the gift you're working on. “Did you believe in Santa 'til you turned ten?” you ask, arching a brow.

“Santa Claus, The Tooth Fairy, The Easter Bunny.” She starts listing off things. She has some scotch tape stuck to her finger. She pauses to reach over for the roll of wrapping paper. Jinx glances at the gift you're working on and goes back to her own. She seems to remember something. “I kept believing in Santa til I was 10, when I finally realized that it was just Vander in a stupid costume.”

You snort, nodding. “Did you ever write a letter to Santa?”

She shrugs. “I may or may not have attempted to write one before.” She puts down the roll of wrapping paper, then grabs a ribbon and begins to tie a bow. “I always asked for something new for my bombs or for Mylo to stop calling me names.” She chuckles. “It got thrown in the trash the next day.”

She starts telling stories of the past christmases, of how she tried to sneak out and get a peek at what the presents the next morning would have, only to be caught by Vi. “Damn sister had ears like a bat, I swear.”

She gets into a long talk and rants about the holiday season a decade or so back, when things were more peaceful. About making Christmas decorations with her siblings. As long as she got to put the star on top of the tree, she was happy. She also adds that she always ate the candy canes off of the tree before anyone else could get to them.

One story involves how she got a lump of coal in her stocking because she put it in firecrackers and caused an explosion the following morning. She swears Mylo put it there just to spite her.

Jinx doesn't really talk about her parents much, but when she does mention them in her ramblings, it's usually about things they baked together. Sometimes cookies, or cinnamon rolls. She remembers her father picking her up and putting her on his shoulders. She remembers her mother's apple pies and says she can still smell them in her head.

She puts down her last gift, setting it aside, grinning. “Christmas has always been fun,” she says. “Even after…” She falters but shakes her head and continues. “I still love it. Isha does too.” She glances at you. “And you do too?”

“I'm fond of Christmas.” And you are. Mostly because of Isha and Jinx.

She glances at you, reaching over to pinch your arm. “Good.” She looks at the Christmas tree and the gifts below it. “I feel better sharing this with you and Isha than I ever did on my own.”

She gets up and stretches out her arms above her head, bending backwards to crack her back. She looks at the mess of ribbons, wrapping paper, and gift bows scattered on the floor around you both. “That's the last of them, right?”

All the gifts have been wrapped in various ribbons, bows, and wrapping paper. At least it looks nice. You nod. “Think so.”

You see her grab her phone from where she left it, unlocking it and scrolling through it for a moment before pausing whatever song was playing.

She looks around. “I'll clean this up tomorrow morning... or later this morning…” She yawns, looking up at the wall clock. “We should go to bed, get as much sleep as possible.” She then extends a hand down to you. “C'mon. Time for bed,” she urges, motioning with her hand.

You take her hand, and she helps you up to your feet. Jinx then wraps her arms around your waist.

She groans, yawning as she rests her head against your arm. “Carry me.”

You chuckle. “So demanding,” you say, but end up picking her up into your arms anyway. Jinx holds on to you like a sloth hangs onto trees. She lifts her head up and rests her cheek in the crook between your neck and shoulder.

You walk through the living room, and Jinx tilts her head towards you. “Mmm... Merry Christmas…” she mumbles before resting her head back into your shoulder.

It's a slow, slow walk to the bedroom. You swear your back is giving you a middle finger and you're pretty sure you'll need a chiropractor in the morning.

“Merry Christmas,” you whisper.

“Love you.” She squeezes you tightly and gives the side of your neck a kiss.

Jinx is dead tired, and dead tired Jinx is a rather clingy, sleepy Jinx. She'll wake the entire world up at 6 AM though, for Isha's sake.

You manage to get Jinx into the bedroom and set her down on the bed, and she's out like a light.

Merry fucking Christmas.

—

Morning soon comes, and the sun shines through the window. Both of you woke up fairly early, since Isha is an early riser.

Jinx is doing some last-minute decorations around the apartment just to get it as stupid as possible. This includes the Christmas movie playlist she queued up on the TV and the stupid Christmas costumes.

She's also still half asleep. You can tell by how groggy she still looks, and you notice her trying to set up some of the heavier decorations before giving up and collapsing back onto the couch with a groan.

Now that the decorations are up, the playlist is put on, and the apartment looks like a Christmas abomination, all that's left is waiting for Isha to get up to open her presents.

It doesn't take long for Isha to start to stir. Jinx hears her first. “Isha is awake,” she whispers, sitting upright. You hear Isha's footsteps coming from the hallway.

She walks in, rubbing her eyes and yawning, and then promptly gives you both a judgmental glance. But then she sees the pile of gifts under the tree, and her eyes widen.

Jinx, who was previously lying on the couch, stands up with a grin and opens her arms wide. “Ho, ho, ho!” Jinx says in a voice that's definitely not at all Santa-like. She sounds more like a drunk uncle.

Isha looks back and forth between you both, then giggles.

Jinx beckons her over with a finger. “C'mon kiddo, look! Santa Jinx left you stuff!” she says, sitting down and patting the floor next to her.

Isha runs over and sits down next to Jinx. You see her eyeing the largest gift, and Jinx notices as well.

“That one's up to you.” Jinx nudges the large box towards her. Isha immediately grabs it and tries to shake it but finds that it's too heavy.

“Santa Jinx wrapped it up extra well.” Jinx grins. Isha scoots closer to her, and Jinx wraps an arm around her to help her open the gift. “Go on, open it.”

Isha looks at you and then back to Jinx before tearing the wrapping paper apart in a few seconds and getting buried in the mess of wrapping paper. Isha tosses aside the wrapping paper, giggling as it flutters around her and flutters in the air. She tries to open the box lid, but it's too heavy for her to pick up even with both hands. She turns over to Jinx with a scowl, only for Jinx to open it for her, laughing.

“There we go, champ.” Jinx opens the box and reveals a massive plushie of the Poro from Blitzcrank's Poro Roundup inside.

Isha reaches in and pulls it out, wrapping her arms around the plushie, and burying her face into the fluff.

The Poros were her favorite part of Blitzcrank's Poro Roundup, and you saw her trying to recreate it with her toys many times. When you first saw the giant plushie and its price tag, it almost gave you a heart attack.

“Do you like it, kiddo?” Jinx asks, leaning forward.

Isha nods. She lifts her head and pulls Jinx into a tight one-armed hug, not wanting to let go of the plushie, still clinging to it tightly.

“Good,” Jinx mutters, hugging Isha back. “That one took me a while to wrap.” She presses a kiss to the top of Isha's head. She looks up to you and gives you the most smug smile she can muster without making a scene.

You're a bit jealous she's using Jinx as her first target for cuddles this morning, but it's hard to not smile at both of them.

Isha reluctantly lets go of Jinx, though she never lets go of the plushie.

Jinx looks around and picks up one of the smaller gift boxes, then hands it to her. “Here's another one.”

Isha takes the box and shakes it, trying to guess the contents. She then looks up to make sure it's okay to open it.

Jinx chuckles. “You don't have to keep asking for permission, silly. They're all for you.”

Isha nods, and she tears open the gift. She pulls something out, and you can see it's a new, larger sketchbook.

“It's for all the drawings you want to make,” you say. She has a habit of always drawing on anything she can get her hands on, and you're always finding doodles and drawings in your things when she gets hold of a pen.

She turns it over in her hands and feels the pages with her fingers. She presses a kiss on the sketchbook. She then scoots back and drops it next to her giant plush Poro, and Jinx picks up another gift for her to open.

Isha grabs the box, and this time it looks a bit bigger and seems to have a bit more weight to it. She shakes it again, and you hear the sound of the item rattling inside. She looks up to both of you to make sure it's okay, and after you nod, she tears open the gift.

She pulls out another art supply: a box of colored pencils. You made a mental note to watch her and keep her from accidentally drawing on the walls. It's not that you don't want her to draw on things. But you just want her to not draw on everything... like Jinx.

Isha gasps when she opens the pencils, and she immediately pulls her legs up against her chest and opens the box. She takes out a pencil and holds it as if she's holding a sword. She makes some more swoosh noises and pretends to fight with her pencil. You have to stop her from poking herself in the eye.

“There's more.” You nod towards the gift pile with several packages still there.

Isha puts the colored pencils back into the box, and Jinx hands her another gift to open.

By the time she finished unwrapping presents, the entire couch was covered in wrapping paper. Isha is surrounded by a sea of trash and gift wrap, the giant Poros plushie being her favorite, which is sitting in her lap. She has art supplies, a new set of pencils, a new plushie, a set of Yordle mini figurines, and several new toys, clothes, and accessories.

Now, there's one last package left, which is the one you're most excited to give her. You nudge Jinx to grab it from in between the sea of trash.

Jinx gets up and bends down, digging into the pile to find it. She sits down and hands it to Isha, grinning. “There's still one more.”

Isha puts her other gifts aside and grabs the last present. Isha takes one look at it and immediately starts shaking it, trying to guess what's inside.

“Hold on, kiddo, don't shake it,” Jinx says. “That one's special.”

The gift is about the size of Isha's head, a rectangular shape wrapped in gift wrap. It doesn't sound like anything is moving around inside. Isha shakes it more just to make Jinx annoyed, but stops after Jinx shoots her a look. She sets it in her lap and carefully undoes the wrapping paper.

It takes her all of 10 seconds at most, given that Isha was very excited about the other gifts but very carefully unwraps the last one. She opens the box, and you see her eyes widen. It's a new tablet.

It costs you a pretty penny for this one. It's the most high-tech, latest model. She had drawn with old tablets before, and you wanted to get her something better than the outdated garbage you used before. You downloaded some drawing software there along with parental and screen time controls, of course.

Isha pulls it out of the box and immediately turns it on. She taps the screen a few times, and she looks back up to you and Jinx with a huge grin on her face that shows the gap of her teeth. She looks so damn excited. She holds with both hands, tapping and touching the screen to see how it works.

Jinx snickers. “She loves it,” she whispers, nudging you. “Good job.”

Even after getting a brand new tablet, Isha doesn't forget her manners. She scoots over to Jinx and gives her a hug, and Jinx picks her up in response. She then carries the kid over to you, the two of them sitting down right next to you with Isha in Jinx's lap.

Isha makes a drawing on the tablet, which turns out to just be a big scribble on the screen, but Jinx and you both praise it anyway.

It's a huge change from her having an outdated tablet, and the software on that thing was so old and out of date. You know she's going to be busy with her new tablet for hours, which gives you free time with Jinx.

Speaking of Jinx, you notice how content she looks. She has Isha leaning back against her, resting her chin on the top of Isha's head. Isha is still making scribbles on her new tablet, giggling as she does so.

You feel Jinx lean into you, and you put an arm around her, pulling her closer. She hums and reaches up with one hand and gives your hand in a squeeze, then continues watching Isha draw.

The three of you are all gathered in the living room, surrounded by wrapping paper, with the Christmas playlist still playing on the TV.

You look at Jinx. She looks happy. That's all you could ask for.

You lean down and press a kiss into her hair, and she turns up her head and briefly captures your lips. You feel her smile against your lips, and when you pull back, you see her own smile on her face.

Jinx glances down at her, and Isha doesn't notice, too absorbed in whatever she's drawing.

Jinx looks back up and presses another kiss into your lips, this time just a bit longer, before pulling away. She looks at you with that stupid grin she has sometimes.

You lean back and let out a sigh. You're content. You have your two favorite people in the whole world right here in the living room right now, both content and happy despite the shitty world outside. They're safe.

—

Jinx is working in the kitchen, mixing up ingredients in a bowl. She's wearing an apron with a cupcake on it (a gift from you), working hard in the kitchen. She mutters to herself as she works, mixing up the ingredients. “This has to be perfect,” she mumbles. “The cookies have to be absolutely perfect.”

Isha is standing on a stool, trying her best to help. She reaches up to try and add more sugar to the bowl, but Jinx stops her. “Too much, Ish,” Jinx says, gently pushing Isha's hand away. Isha pouts but doesn't try to help again, instead watching Jinx mix together the cookie batter.

She's doing all this to make sure the holiday treats are, in her words, ‘absolutely perfect’.

You watch her mix up the ingredients, then decide to try to sneak up behind her and get her attention. “Hey,” you say, and she jumps.

“You scared me!” She hisses, placing the spatula down in the bowl with more force than necessary, some of the batter splashing over the side. She puts her hand to her chest and gives you a glare.

Isha narrows her eyes at you, mirroring Jinx's expression. It's cute, but also a little creepy.

“Jesus, you almost made me ruin the cookies.” Jinx groans, looking back at the bowl of batter and seeing some splatter on the counter next to it. She grabs a washcloth and wipes it up with an irritated huff.

Isha watches Jinx clean up the mess, then copies her by grabbing a different washcloth and holding it, imitating Jinx while narrowing her eyes even more at you.

“How long have you been standing there?” Jinx asks, still looking at the bowl with irritation.”You were staring. Didn't your momma ever teach you that it's bad to stare?”

….she pulled that your momma card, and turned her nose up at you. She's too focused on the batter, making sure it doesn't have any lumps or any of the sort. She puts the washcloth down and picks the spoon back up, mixing the ingredients.

You stand back and watch her. You know better than to try and argue with her right now. You know you're better off letting her do her thing, so you just reply with a simple “Yeah, mom,” knowing that'll annoy the hell out of her.

Bingo. You watch as Jinx rolls her eyes so hard you think they're going to get stuck in the back of her head. She groans, and a vein in her temple visibly bulges. She takes out her frustration by being just a bit rougher with the spatula, stirring the ingredients up more furiously than before.

You hear her muttering to herself. “You're so annoying. Stupid, irritating, annoying idiot. Damn dumbass.”

Isha watches the two of you, her head turning back and forth like she's watching a tennis match.

You sigh. “Need any help?”

“No,” Jinx replies too quickly. “It's fine. Just—stand there and don't get in the way.” She gives you a glare, and it has that edge that says she's irritated. It's not the 'playfully grumpy' kind of irritation, it's the 'actually frustrated with you' type. Her eyebrows pinched together, and nostrils flared. She's got that expression on her face, the one where she's either really mad or really horny. Hard to tell sometimes.

Jinx turns to Isha. “Ish, can you go grab the chocolate chips for me?”

Isha nods and starts to hop off her stool and run to the pantry. It takes longer than it would if you or Jinx had gotten the chocolate chips, but eventually Isha retrieves the bag and brings it over, holding it out triumphantly to Jinx.

“Perfect,” Jinx says, taking the bag from Isha's hands and pouring it into the mixture. She gives her a smile and pats her head. “You're a good helper, Isha.” She gives you a pointed look. “Unlike some certain people.”

It's a barb that's directed at you, and it hits its target.

You walk over to Isha and put a hand on her shoulder. “Sweetheart, why don't you go play with your new tablet?”

Isha nods and dashes off to play. Both of you watch her run, then Jinx goes back to her mixing, and you go back to being silently judged.

Jinx knows how to do everything. She knows how to draw, she knows how to paint, she knows how to make bombs, she knows how to bake, she can make the best damn food you've ever tasted... and she knows how to make you feel bad.

She stands there, mixing the bowl. She refuses to look at you. It's always like this. You know what she wants. She wants you to apologize, even if it's the most bullshit one ever.

She's like a cat. Get on her bad side, and she'll just ignore you until you do something to get back on her good side.

You sigh, knowing that there's only one way back on her good side. If you do this correctly, she'll forget about you being a dick to her a minute ago, and she'll go back to being a normal, happy Jinx. If you do this incorrectly, you're sleeping outside.

You walk over to her and wrap your arms around her from behind, pulling her into your chest. You rest your chin on her shoulder. “You know,” you breathe. “I am sorry…”

She groans and stops her mixing. She puts one of her hands on your arm, giving it a squeeze. She still looks at the bowl, not at you.

Now you get into the fun stuff. You press a kiss into her shoulder.

You're not just going to give her a random peck and move on. No. You've been around her for years. You know what to do. You kiss her shoulder again, then her neck, then her jaw, then her ear.

She still isn't saying anything, but leans back against you, tilting her head to the side to give you a better angle. She's still looking straight ahead, staring at the stupid bowl. You press another kiss into her neck, and you can hear her mumble, “I hate you.”

She's lying. You know she's lying. You also know that she knows you know she's lying. You know she's just saying this to get you on your knees.

She likes it when you're on your knees, begging her and apologizing for whatever stupid thing you didn't mean to do wrong.

“I'm sorry, really.” You kiss her neck again, and she groans. You can see her pouting.

“If you keep doing this, I'll put rat poison in the cookies,” she mumbles. You know there's a damn near zero chance of that happening. Maybe...

You press a kiss into her shoulder. She groans and finally drops the act. She turns around in your arms, looking up at you with a glare. “You're such an ass,” she says. “I can’t believe I got stuck with you, out of all the idiots in the world.”

You sigh. Might as well pull the big guns out and do it all. “Baby. Look. I'm sorry, I'll never sneak up on you in the kitchen. I swear.”

"You—you—ugh!!” She puts a hand on your chest and punches you with the other. “You always do it.” Another punch to your chest. “I was trying to focus on those cookies. You can't just sneak up on me like that.”

“I know, I know. I'm sorry.” You grab her hand before she can punch you again. “It was a mistake. Baby, I didn't mean to scare you, I swear in my heart and soul I'll never do it again.

She pushes and thrashes against you, still trying to punch you. “You say that every damn time you do it!” she snaps. “And then when I'm focused on something else, you do it all over again!”

You keep her hands pinned to your chest. “I'm a terrible, awful, stupid person,” you admit. “I'm an idiot. I can't help myself, you're so hot when you're focused, I just can't help it. It's a mistake, I swear.”

Despite the fact that you have her wrists pinned to your chest, she manages to give you another punch. “You're the most annoying person I know! You're lucky I didn't dump this bowl of batter on your head! Maybe you'd learn your damn lesson!”

“You'd be wasting perfectly good cookie dough if you did that,” you reply. “Don't do it, baby. C'mon, I'll get you and Isha some ice cream. Alright?”

She sighs and gives up fighting against your grip. “...That new flavor?”

You let go of her wrists, letting her arms drop to her sides. “Only the new flavor, just for you.”

She stares you down for a full thirty seconds, then groans. She glances at the living room. “And Isha.”

“And Isha.” You lean down and put your arms on the countertop, both on either side of her. “Please?”

“Please what,” she asks, not looking at you.

“Please forgive me?”

Silence.

“Pretttty please?”

More silence. Wow, she's not giving in that easily. You're going to need to pull out the heavy artillery now.

“I'll get you two new stuffies as well."

Her head whips around, giving you a glare. “And what stuffies would you so graciously and lovingly buy me so I can forgive you for the massive crime of scaring me while I'm baking?”

You almost smirk, you almost smirk. “Anything you want,” you offer. “I'll even call up some people and get you a stuffed replica of me if you want.”

“Why the hell would I want a stuffed replica of you?” She scoffs. “I could dunk it in the toilet.”

“You'd get your hands on a plushy of me, and the first thing you'd do is throw it in a shitter?” You raise an eyebrow. “I thought you liked me.”

“That's why I'd use a plushie of you as toilet paper.”

“What if I bought you two of them? A first one to use as toilet paper and a second one to cuddle?”

“Hmm...” She pretends to think about it, giving the most exaggerated facial expressions while she tilts her head like she's in deep thought. After about twenty seconds, she grins at you. “I'm still dunking both of them in the toilet.”

“How about I buy you two stuffed replicas of me, let you do what you want, call in a bunch of favors with some guys, get a bunch of replicas of me made, rinse and repeat until you're satisfied, and then you can forgive me?”

“...Make it a dozen replicas of you that I can abuse in whatever way I want, and a replica of Isha.”

“You wanna put Isha in the toilet too?”

“No, you moron, I just want a replica of her because I love her more than I love you.”

"Ouch!” You pretend to be hurt. “You kiss me with that mouth?”

“I kiss you with both my upper and lower mouths.”

…

Wow?

This woman.

You don't think you've ever been hit by such smooth lines before. Damn, you really pulled the rizzler.

You're trying to figure out how to come back at that when she suddenly puts her arms on your shoulders, her hand slowly tracing around your neck. Her smirk turns into a half-smile that makes those damn eyes nearly glow.

Alright, time to pull out some more bullshit. “You do like it when I use that lower mouth.” You smirk. “You especially love that first thing in the morning, as I recall.”

She puts a finger under your chin, tipping your head up. “How could I ever forget?” she mutters, her eyes half-lidded. “After all, it's my favorite alarm clock.”

You can see her eyes dart down to your lips and back to your eyes.

“And my favorite breakf-”

Before you can finish your comment, she grabs your shirt and pulls you closer before kissing you.

You aren't complaining, not at all. You'll never argue or protest when she's making the first move, no ma'am!

You wrap your arms around her back, pulling her against you. She nips at your bottom lip before quickly delving her tongue into your mouth. You can feel her other hand against your chest, then slide up to your shoulder, then up to the back of your neck.

Your hands go down to her hips, pushing her backwards and forcing her to sit on the countertop. Her legs open, letting you stand between them. You kiss her back, your tongue darting back into her mouth.

Her tongue keeps yours occupied in her mouth, and she wraps her legs around your waist. Her hands move to the back of your head, her fingers pulling on your hair, and her other arm wraps around your shoulders.

One of your hands is on the counter, supporting the two of you, while your other hand travels up her shirt to the bare skin on her stomach.

Her hand tugs on your hair, causing you to break the kiss and look up at her. Her lips are red and swollen, and she takes a moment to catch her breath. “One plushie and an ice cream. Don't go overboard.”

You take a breath in. Then, another one.

The taste of her mouth is still on your tongue. You thought you had a strong tongue, but she went right for the kill.

“Are you bargaining with me right after you kiss me?” you tease.

“Yes, because that's the only time your brain works correctly.”

She pushes on your shoulders, forcing you to take a step back. She hops off the counter then leans back against it. “You still get one plushie. And-”

“And an ice cream,” you finish.

“And for Isha too.”

“And for Isha too,” you repeat.

“And no more sneaking while I'm baking,” she warns, pointing a finger at you.

“And no more sneaking while you're baking,” you echo.

“No more being an annoying, distracting idiot and getting me off track when I'm baking.”

“No more being an annoying, distracting idiot and getting you off track when you're baking,” you respond dutifully.

“No more scaring me when I'm just minding my own business.”

“No more scaring you when you're minding your own business.”

She smirks.. “No more sneaking around me at all.”

You pause. “...Am I allowed to watch you bake?”

“Under specific conditions,” she responds. “You have to have your hands behind your back, and you’re not allowed to talk—at all. No making comments, no asking questions, no annoying me, no trying to touch me, nothing.”

You frown, but you know it's a fair compromise. “...Fine, I'll abide by those rules when you're baking. Unless you need help… what if there's an emergency?”

She rolls her eyes. “If an emergency happens, you can intervene. But if it's not an actual emergency, then it's just you being annoying and distracting again.”

You nod your head. “No talking, no hands, no questions, no touching, and only intervention for emergencies.”

“And one more thing.”

“And one more thing,” you parrot back.

She pushes herself away from the counter, keeping her eyes on yours, and takes a step towards you. “You owe me.”

“I owe you,” you repeat, but your mouth turns up in a smirk. “And what do I owe you?”

“You can start with giving the living room a deep clean on your day off,” she begins.

Ah, that's where this is going. She's going to milk this for all it's worth.

“And?” you prompt.

“And you're doing the laundry on top of that. All the sheets on the bed-” She takes another step closer. “-and all the laundry in the laundry basket,” she clarifies. She pokes your chest with a finger. “All. Of. It.”

“All of it?” you echo. “Are you planning on throwing every single piece of dirty clothing you own into the basket before I get back from work just so you can give me extra work?”

“You’re catching on.” She grins. “And you’re going to wash everything meticulously. No stains, no wrinkles, and everything is going to be folded correctly. You hear?”

“No stains, no wrinkles, and everything folded correctly.” you repeat the words back to her. “Anything else?”

“You're scrubbing the bathroom, vacuuming and cleaning the hardwood, and changing Isha's bedding.”

“Are you sure I can't just buy you a Roomba?” you suggest.

“Yeah, I’m sure.” Her hand traces to your stomach before resting on your shoulder. “I’m not trusting my cleaning to some random little thing on the floor. You do all the cleaning yourself, and I’m inspecting it all.”

You’re pretty sure that’s a very roundabout way of saying, “I’m going to watch you do chores and get mad when you do it marginally imperfect.”

“Alright, so laundry, bathroom cleaning, vacuuming, scrubbing the floors, and changing the bedding. Anything else?” you ask.

She looks up at you, a pout on her face, and her other hand is playing with the fabric of your shirt. “And a Christmas movie night later with Isha.”

“And a Christmas movie night with you and Isha,” you repeat. “Alright, is that everything?”

“Not quite.”

“Not quite,” you mimic. “What’s left?”

“And I don't want to see a single dish in the sink after dinner for a month.”

“And no dishes in the sink after dinner for a month,” you repeat. “You got it, boss.” You wrap your arms around her waist. “Anything else, or are you done chaining me yet?”

“A massage.”

“A massage?” you repeat incredulously.

“Yes, a back massage.”

“Just a back massage?”

She nods. “A nice long back massage that hopefully won't end with you doing anything stupid.”

Hey, the stupid things end with the both of you having a good time.

“With or without oil?”

“With oil. And I'm serious about only a back massage.”

“Damn, thought you were going to say full body.”

“I'm not that easy,” she snaps. “And I mean just a back massage. No trying to distract me, no straying from what you're supposed to do. Got it? No funny business.”

“Alright, alright,” you grumble. “I'll give you a back massage with no funny business or distractions. But only one?”

“One long back massage,” she corrects.

“Only one?” you whine. “I'm going to end up giving the best damn back massage ever, and it's going to be a waste after just one.”

“One nice and long back massage,” she replies sternly. “That's all you're getting out of me. Consider it a part of your debt.”

“Can I bargain for more?” you joke. Well, only partially.

She glares at you. “One back massage only,” she clarifies, her hand pinching your shoulder as a warning. "

You wince at the pinch. “Ow, ow, ow, I got it. One, and only one back massage with oil. Anything else? Anything else?”

“And you're buying me and Isha one plushie and an ice cream?” she finishes, raising an eyebrow.

“Okay, okay. One plushie and ice cream for each of you, a nice back massage with oil, laundry chores, bathroom cleaning, vacuuming the floors, scrubbing all the hardwood, and changing the bedding. And a Christmas movie night,” you list off, counting on your fingers. “And no dishes left in the sink after dinner for a month. That's it?”

“That's it.” She nods. “Those are my terms. Do you agree?”

“Yes, yes. I agree.” You raise a finger as you add, “And I’ll add two extra hours to that back massage.”

“You're such a pain-” she starts, pausing to think about it. “...Two extra hours added, I'll say yes to that.”

“What will I get if I add three more?” you ask, smirking.

“Nothing more,” she replies. “I'm done adding more on. Unless you want to add more chores to be done?”

The smirk on your face drops. “I-” you start, hesitating. “...Damn it, no, no more adding on. Two extra hours is good enough.”

“Good,” she says, poking your cheek. “Now get out, I have cookies to finish.”

“Fine,” you reply, but you lean in to steal one kiss, to which she allows you.

“Leave, you're too distracting,” she mutters against your lips.

“You're damn tempting when you're baking,” you mutter back, and kiss her one more time.

Reluctantly, you pull away from her, stepping out of the kitchen and heading to the living room. Isha is sitting on the couch with her tablet, drawing.

“Hey, kiddo,” you say, walking up to her, “Let's go get some ice cream and another plushie for you. Just us two, how's that sound?”

Her ears perk up, and she puts the tablet down, getting up and running over to you with a smile on her face.

She grabs your hand, and you feel as she tugs against you, wanting to go now. Ice cream and plushies (and chores and nice long back massage with oil) have got to be one of the best things invented in the history of humankind.

—

Ice cream and plushies acquired, and the three of you are back in the living room watching The Grinch for the umpteenth time. Isha is curled up in Jinx's lap, watching the Grinch steal all the presents and decorations from Whoville. Again.

You're sitting beside Jinx on the couch, eating her ice cream while Isha eats a cookie.

Jinx has an arm around Isha, watching the movie while she holds Isha up. She takes a bite of her cookie or takes a spoon of her ice cream. You've lost count of how many times you've seen this movie with Isha already. You can practically quote the entire movie by heart at this point. Jinx can, anyway.

Not that you complain when Isha wants to watch it. This is still a thousand times better than having to see the Teletubbies.If you ever see Jojo Siwa or Peppa Pig, you're going to lose your mind.

Jinx gives you a look, then glances at your ice cream. She's already finished hers, and now she wants yours. She really wants it, and if you don't give it to her, she's likely going to steal it.

But Isha is on her lap, and she doesn't want to take her attention off of her, so you're safe… for now.

Isha is so focused completely on the movie. You've never seen a kid more excited to see a grown man being a complete dick.

Jinx keeps glancing at your ice cream, waiting for you to let your guard down and grab it from your hands.

She's probably already done the math in her head and knows exactly how much you can eat in one sitting. She probably did the math the first time you two shared ice cream and has kept a note in her mind since then.

Isha giggles at one of the funnier scenes, and then Jinx ruffles her hair. Isha leans back against Jinx and keeps watching the movie, but your girlfriend glances back at you with a look. That damn ice cream.

But this is your moment.

A window of opportunity has opened, and you can use it. Jinx is trapped by the kid. She can't leave, she's stuck. You have the upper hand, and you can use this to your advantage.

You grab the ice cream and shovel a heaping spoonful into your mouth. And hold it there.

Haha. You smirk at Jinx. She looks at you and realizes that she's in a checkmate position. She's screwed. Trapped behind the child, all she can do is glare at you as you shove more ice cream into your mouth. It feels so damn good to win. It feels powerful. You feel like a god.

If looks could kill, you'd be dead.

You shovel more and more ice cream into your mouth, looking right at Jinx while you do it. You're making sure she watches you as you slowly eat the sweet, cold treat.

You feel like you're on top of the world... not until Isha wants to go to the bathroom.

Isha squirms and looks up at Jinx, signaling that she has to go to the bathroom. Jinx nods, and the kid scurries off to the bathroom to do her business.

Meanwhile, you've just sealed your fate.

She hates not getting her way, and you've just denied her the treat she wanted. And she will get revenge. She'll probably use a dirty trick, too. Maybe she'll put something in the next batch of cookies she bakes next. Or maybe she'll put a dead tarantula in your pillow.

And the moment Isha is out of the room, Jinx turns to face you. She looks absolutely angry. You'd think she just walked in on you sleeping with another woman if it wasn't for the ice cream still in your mouth.

The look in her eyes alone makes you start to sweat, but you force yourself to keep your composure. You have to keep the upper hand.

You shrug. “I can get you another ice cream... and another stuffie?”

She scowls. You can see her fingers twitch. “I'll remember this,” she says. Like you're not already trembling in fear. “Next time you ask to eat the last cookie, I'll say no.”

You know she won't follow through with that, but that doesn't mean it won't still be a pain in the ass. Not like you'd ever take the last cookie in the first place. It's probably only a bluff, it's probably empty words. She's probably still thinking of ways to get you back. You'll probably be finding dead spiders in your socks tonight.

Isha comes back and stops in the doorway, staring at the two of you. Wondering why you guys are looking upset. Jinx sees her, and her scowl turns into a smile within a fraction of a second.

It's almost scary how quickly she can flip.

“Hey Ish, did you wash your hands?” she asks, looking at Isha.

Isha nods. She probably did. She's pretty smart, she knows how important it is to wash hands. She's even stopped doing the typical kid thing of putting her hands in the toilet and getting who knows what all over her. You're thankful for it, 'cause you definitely don't want to see that.

Jinx smiles and motions for Isha to come back to her. Isha does so and snuggles into her lap, and Jinx kisses her head before turning back to you. That glare.

You're in the deep end now. Like you're about to be thrown into the Mariana's Trench, or the Challenger Deep. You know hell awaits.

All because of this goddamn ice cream.

She's probably got her payback list going in her head, writing down every single slight you've ever done against her. You remember she made you walk around the entire apartment building because... you forgot to take out the garbage six months ago.

You scoff, holding out the ice cream to her, hoping it would somehow appease her.

She looks at you, then at the ice cream, then back at you. She looks like she's trying to figure out if this is some sort of trick and whether or not you're just making fun of her.

She looks at you again and then finally takes the ice cream bowl out of your hands, grumbling to herself. She starts eating the ice cream without any hesitation. You see her scowl start to melt away.

You lean in and whisper. “You could've asked nicely, you know.”

“Shut up,” she mutters.

Of course she doesn't ask nicely. That's way too much work, that's way too civilized. She's Jinx, she does things her way. And if her way includes stealing your ice cream without asking, she's going to steal your ice cream without asking.

She doesn't have the patience to wait, she wants what she wants at that exact moment. That's why it's safer to just share, 'cause if you don't, your food/drink/whatever it is she's going to swipe ends up in her hands.

She even tries to steal your fries all the time and gives you the most pathetic puppy eyes whenever you say no.

She has an ice cream on the corner of her lip, and you resist the urge to lean over and wipe it off. You know better than to get closer. Or she's going to give you a death glare. You've already gotten a couple today.

You see Isha lean her head against Jinx's shoulder, and she wraps her arm around Isha.

You know damn well she's going to use that as a shield against you too. You've seen it hundreds of times. She'll use Isha as an excuse to do everything. She'll say, “You're going to upset Isha,” and you'll fall for it every damn time.

Because you really don't want to make Isha upset. You've seen Isha in a bad mood, it's pretty damn depressing. And you've had to deal with a stressed Jinx who had a stressed Isha to deal with.

You've seen Jinx with a rocket launcher at her side while she's glaring out the window and chewing on a toothpick. You just pray it's never directed at you.

And you never want to go through that ever again.

You don't even want to imagine if they're both on their periods. You've got nightmares about it. You hope you never have to see it, but it's going to happen sometime soon.

And when the hormones start kicking in, you're pretty sure you're going to have to call a therapist.

Or a priest. Or a priest-therapist. You're going to need both.

Or a priest-therapist-exorcist. Three-in-one

Or a priest-exorcist-therapist-monk, someone who will bless the damn apartment and cleanse the demons out.

Maybe you'll want to call some kind of SWAT team. Get everyone out of the crossfire and just leave a demolition crew to clean up the destruction.

Because you already know what's going to happen if they're both on their periods and are having a bad day.

They'll probably try and blow the damn thing, the three of you probably won't have a place to stay, and you'll have to tell the landlord exactly how your apartment got destroyed.

But those are for future you to deal with. And past-present you don't want to think about it. You'd rather think about the now, where Jinx is eating her ice cream and Isha is curled up against her, watching her favorite movie and not being on her period.

You see Isha yawn and rub her eyes as the movie plays. She's getting tired, and it's getting late. Jinx seems to notice too.

She glances between the kid and the clock. She glances back at the movie, then back at Isha. She looks at the clock again and sighs. “C'mon, kiddo, let's put on your pajamas,” she mutters, setting aside her bowl, then picking up the remote to pause the movie. Isha makes a whine of protest. Jinx shakes her head. “Go on. Go take a bath, brush your teeth, put your pajamas on. Okay?”

Isha shakes her head. She's tired, and she looks like she wants to stay like this.

Jinx sighs, then looks at you. You look back at her, and Jinx nods her head towards Isha, raising an eyebrow. You roll your eyes, realizing Jinx is already on her way to using Isha as an excuse.

You get up and put your hands under Isha's arms and start lifting her out of Jinx's lap, and the kid whines. Isha squirms and tries to reach for Jinx, but you start carrying her towards the bathroom.

You really hope that Isha has an easy time putting on her pajamas and brushing her teeth and doesn't want to fight doing that too. There are some nights it takes like a whole damn hour to make this kid brush her teeth. It's because she likes to chew on the brush.

You open the bathroom door and set Isha down. “Go on, kid. You need to take a bath and brush your teeth,” you say, and you feel her grab your hand.

This is all your responsibility now. Jinx is off sitting on the damn couch eating ice cream and watching the rest of The Grinch while you're stuck having to get her to brush her teeth, put pajamas on, and take a bath.

You glance back at the doorway, and you can see Jinx watching the movie with a big smirk on her face. She looks at you, and you swear you can see her mouth ‘you're welcome’ while she's eating her ice cream.

You really should've shared the ice cream.

—

The war is finally over. You finally get the kid clean, finally finally get the brat to put on the damn pajamas, and she finally finally finally goes to sleep. But not before she kicks and cries and kicks and screams and screams and cries.

It's a hell of a Christmas, but it's been a long, exhausting day, and you're finally getting a break.

And you and Jinx are back in your room. Your head is throbbing and all your muscles are sore from everything today.

Jinx's back is facing you, and she's sitting cross-legged between your legs.

She's letting you undo her braids, and she's quiet, just letting you do your thing. Probably too damn tired (and annoyed) to have much to say right now.

The silence is nice. It's soothing. You carefully undo her braids, trying not to tug too hard.

She doesn't seem to be saying anything, which is weird. She's usually making comments about something whenever silence starts to stretch out for too long. Or she's trying to annoy you in some way. But tonight... nothing. Not even a hum to fill the silence.

You undo the last braid, and her long, blue hair flows down her back. You're used to seeing it like this at this point. But it never gets old. Seeing it like this, even if you have to deal with the mess it can make on your pillowcase.

It looks nice, though. It is nice. You're glad that she trusts you enough to let you sit here and run your fingers through it.

You wrap your arms around her waist, and she doesn't protest. She does lean against you, allowing you to rest your chin on her shoulder. Her hands find their way to your arms, tracing circles on your forearm with her thumb.

She closes her eyes, just... taking in the moment.

It's quiet. She doesn't say anything, and neither do you.

You can smell the faint smell of the shampoo she uses. You can still smell the cookies she made earlier.

She turns her head to the side, and she glances at you from the corner of her eye. Her lips part like she wants to tell you something. Her brow furrows, but then she turns her head away and goes back to tracing patterns on your arm with her fingers.

Something's on her mind. But she doesn't seem to want to tell you. Or she does, but she doesn't know how. Or she doesn't want to.

You lean your head and press a kiss into her shoulder, intertwining one of your hands with hers. Your thumbs run in a slow, circular pattern on the back of her hand. “What's wrong?”

She doesn't respond, but her fingers twitch in your grasp. Her back is still to you, and she stares at the wall in front of her. “Nothing.”

She moves away from you, sliding out from between your legs and crawling to the other side of the bed. You follow her, sliding into the spot beside her and pulling the covers over the both of you.

She rests her head on your arm, tucking her head into the crook of your arm and leaning on your shoulder. She pulls the blanket up to her chin. You pull her closer, and your other arm comes to wrap around her. She puts her legs between yours, tangling the two of you together like some convoluted knot.

Her thumb brushes your waist idly, and her fingers start rubbing along the edge of your ribs.

She's doing something. A tapping, sort of. She'll run a pattern along your ribs before tapping on it once.

She's doing it to the rhythm of your heartbeat.

You can see her eyes are open. She's not quite asleep yet. Her eyes are distant, not focused on anything in particular because they stare at nothing in particular.

She blinks a couple of times. And just when you were thinking that she's just spaced out...

“...Can I ask you something?”

You wouldn't have heard her if you weren't holding her so close to your chest. She's not moving much, just fidgeting. She's staring into the darkness, like she's staring at something beyond the wall in front of her.

“It's stupid,” she adds when you're too slow to answer.

“What is it?” Your curiosity is piqued. She never calls anything she asks about 'stupid.' That's not how she works. The only stupid questions are the ones that don't have an answer, she told you once.

Her fingers stop tracing on your skin. Instead, she moves her hand down to pick at the hem of your shirt. Her fingers grasping the hem of your shirt but making no move to bring it up. “I've been thinking,” she starts.

Her voice is so quiet, it's hushed. Not out of fear or because she's trying to keep anyone from waking up, but out of a sort of... embarrassment?

But why would she be embarrassed to ask you something? It's probably just a big deal for her, that's all.

“What've you been thinking about?” you ask, trying to bring her out of her own head.

“I was thinking, ah…” she trails off and sighs.

She picks at the hem of your shirt and pulls it up just a bit before she pulls it back down. She sighs again.

“Why do you stay with me?”

Her fingers are still picking at the hem of your shirt. Almost like she's picking it apart, little by little.

For you, it's almost a strange question, considering the relationship you've had together for so many years. Why wouldn't you stay with her?

It's a question you haven't really heard from her. Most of the time, the questions she asks are “are you mad at me?” or “are you going to leave me?”

You start to run your hand up and down her arm, trying to soothe her with your touch.

She doesn't seem tense, she's not shivering. Actually, she seems pretty relaxed, like laying in your arms and tucked into your side is completely normal. Which it is.

But you can hear her breath hitch, you can almost feel her heartbeat pick up. And her picking at your shirt is starting to get a bit more insistent.

“What do you mean?” you ask.

“Like- I dunno. I'm a walking disaster. Or a catastrophe even.”

She stops picking at your shirt and brings her hand up to brush some hair out of her face. She's doing anything she can to avoid looking at you.

“It doesn't make sense,” she mumbles. “I'm not exactly-” she pauses. “-nice, to most people.” She says it as if it's an understatement, which it probably is. “And yet,” she continues. “I get to hold you and be close to you…”

She reaches for your shirt again, and pulls it up just an inch, running her thumb along the hem.

It's odd to hear from her. The way that she words it, it sounds like she can't comprehend being loved. She's not stupid, far from it. She's far smarter than she makes herself out to be.

She's always been clingy and craves attention and affection. She's possessive of you and sometimes can act like a child. She can be impulsive and can be reckless. She asks if you're mad at her if you don't answer her call for a few minutes. She makes you dress up as a dumbass reindeer costume.

Yet, you love her.

“Maybe…” she trails off, and you hear her swallow a lump in her throat. “I might get a little…” she starts, her fingers fidgeting even more. “Possessive?”

Possessive. She'll break your phone if you mention another woman's name. Or burn a restaurant. Or both.

“Maybe I'm clingy?” she continues, and you can almost hear the way her lip curls as if she's about to say something else. She doesn't say it, though. The silence stretches out.

She's thinking, thinking hard.

“I don't understand why you want to put up with all of my…” she trails off again. “My bullshit,” she finishes in a hushed voice.

“Your bullshit.” You chuckle, and her fingers pause.

Her bullshit, as she calls it. You know about her past. Her upbringing. That she's been abandoned time and time again, betrayed. That she's got abandonment issues. That she loves you more than anything, yet is afraid you'll leave her, and she'll be alone again.

You pull her against your chest, hugging her tightly.

Her breath hitches again, and you feel her fingers tighten as she clutches at your shirt. Something that you've noticed is that she finds comfort in the scent of you. In the little things, like smelling your shirt. Or how she'll sometimes lean over to smell your hair or the collar of your jacket.

You press a kiss against the top of her head, then another, then another.

“What makes me worth staying for?”

You're quiet, as you think. There are several words out there you could use to describe Jinx.

Amazing.

Intelligent.

Beautiful.

Gifted.

Creative,

Brilliant.

Talented.

Wonderful.

There are so many words you could say. So many words with so much meaning that all apply to this wonderful woman.

She's terrified of being abandoned again, and yet she feels like she's not worth being loved. Even after all the damage she's done and all the damage you've both done to each other, you still stayed. And she doesn't understand it.

Or refuses to understand it. She still believes that you're going to leave her someday.

“You drive me crazy,” you start, and she lets out a huff. “You're funny,” you continue. “Sometimes.” You lean down and press a kiss against the top of her head. “And sweet, sometimes.” You lift your other hand to gently scratch her scalp, the way you know she likes. In turn, she nuzzles her face into your shoulder. “You make me look forward to things. You make me look forward to going home.” You pause. “You make me want to come home.”

Every single time you turn the key to open the door of your home, she's there. The moment you step into the house, she's the first thing you see. Whether you're coming home late in the evening after a long day at work or coming back after a quick trip to the store, she's always there waiting for you.

She'll hear the door open, she'll get up off the couch or bed, or even wake herself up. She'll come rushing over to see you, and she'll jump into your arms before you even enter the living room. She'll hold on tightly, and you have to pry her off so you don't both topple onto the floor.

When you can manage to get her off of you—just for a brief second—she'll immediately start talking your ear off. About her day, what she did, what she and Isha did, and about the latest shenanigans she did around town.

She'll make you sit down, and the moment you do, she crawls into your lap and clings on to you.

She asks if you're hungry, if you need her to get you anything, if you need food, if you're tired. She'll take your coat from your hands, and you've come back home multiple times to find your coats and shoes perfectly put away in their spot.

“You're crazy,” you continue. “You make me do the stupidest damn things I can think of, like dress up in a reindeer costume.” You huff. “But I don't mind any of it, because it's you.”

Jinx doesn't say anything. If she was tired before, she's wide awake now.

“You throw stuff at my head when you get angry.” She has the decency to look sheepish at that.

You continue. “You annoy the living hell out of me.”

Jinx's eyebrows raise. Yeah, she knew that already.

“You're weird.”

She grunts and hides her face at the crook of your neck. A smile is playing at the edges of her lips.

“But the best things in life are weird.” You sigh, pressing another kiss into her hair. “I like waking up next to you. Even if you get drool on my damn shirt.”

“That was ONE TIME-” she squawks, lifting her head to look at you. It was more than one time, but you decide not to point that out. She grumbles, then buries her face back into your neck.

“You steal all the blankets.”

Jinx freezes at that. She burrows her face deeper into the crook of your neck.

“It's a pain in the ass, but you're so damn cold, and I know you're gonna be shivering when you crawl into bed.”

She'll roll over and hug you as close as she can at night because she ‘wants to steal your warmth,’ but in reality it's her trying to keep warm. Her toes are always freezing cold, to the point that she sleeps with socks on.

“You're cute when you're angry,” you say, which earns you a kick to the shin.

“I am not.”

“Sure you are. When you get mad, you get this cute little pout, and you look like a puffed-up kitten.”

She doesn't respond, and when you can see her face, you see her pouting.

“See?” You lift your hand up and reach to flick her nose, but she grabs it in a flash.

“I'm not cute when I get mad.”

“You are.”

“I am not.”

“You are.”

You both argue for a good few minutes, the both of you going back and forth, the both of you being just as stubborn.

Eventually you both get tired of going back and forth, so you take a different approach. When she's just about to say she's not cute, you lean down and smother her with kisses. Her protest turns into giggles, and she squawks when you bury your head in her neck and press kisses against her throat.

She squirms, trying to get out of your grip. Her hands fly up to push against you, but you have her pinned beneath you, trapping her against the softness of the bed. You pin her wrists with one hand and use the other to continue your campaign of kisses against her neck and collarbone.

“You talk in your sleep.” You trail your lips to the side of her jaw.

You've experienced that several times. She has a habit of talking in her sleep, which she doesn't realize. Or she does and is just messing with you.

“Huh?” She grunts out, still trying to free her arms.

“You talk in your sleep,” you repeat. Your lips trail to the back of her ear. “You usually say weird things.” One of your legs slides between her knees, forcing them to spread. “One time you said something about bunnies and monkeys and fireworks.”

That got her to stop struggling. Her eyes are wide as she stares at you.

When she doesn't say anything, you chuckle, moving to press kisses against the tip of her nose, her eyelashes, and finally the corner of her lips. “You woke me up in the middle of the night by whispering something. You said the bunnies were gonna eat the monkeys, and the fireworks were to defend the monkeys.”

The words finally register in her mind, and she suddenly laughs. “You're making that up.”

“Nope,” you respond, popping the 'p'. “You've said more crazy things, you know,” you continue. “You said you were gonna 'shoot the sun down.' When I asked what you meant, you said something about using a cannon.”

She laughs again, and the sound of her laughter is like music to your ears. “That was a good dream.”

“I'm sure it was,” you murmur against her collarbone, moving up to her neck. “I woke up and you had your head buried under the pillow.”

“I wanted to muffle the sun.”

“At 2 am?”

“The sun was loud.”

You chuckle against her neck before you bite down, sucking at a spot in the crook of her shoulder. She gasps at that. “You kick me sometimes in the middle of the night.”

And her legs are always flailing about in her sleep. She has hit you multiple times in her sleep, accidentally whacking you in the face.

“I don't do that on purpose.” She huffs.

You raise an eyebrow at her and stop peppering her neck with kisses.

You get hit by her feet, her elbows, her hands, all while she's apparently asleep. It's like she's having a damn fencing match in her dreams.

“You absolutely do it on purpose.” You scoff. “When we first moved in together, I woke up one night and I had a black eye. And you had this smirk on your face while you were 'asleep'.”

“I swear that was an accident!”

She accidentally slammed her elbow into your eye while asleep. It left your eye bruised for a week, and the next morning she felt terrible about it. You can still remember her fretting over you and making you an ice pack while constantly apologizing.

“Uh huh.”

“I said it was an accident,” she says, her bottom lip jutting out.

“Then I guess it's just a coincidence that you elbowed me in the other eye a week after that?”

That time she had been having a nightmare, and apparently you jostled her. She swung around and socked you dead in the eye, which once again had left you with a black eye that took a week to go away.

“That was also an accident.”

“You do it on purpose,” you scoff. “You're trying to kill me in my sleep.”

“I like you alive,” she says, “who else is gonna keep me warm at night?”

“You could get a dog to keep you warm at night,” you respond, “or a hot water bottle.”

“Those don't have your warmth.”

You chuckle. “What, I'm just a replacement heater for you?”

She squawks and tries to smack you on the shoulder. Which is difficult when her wrists are still pinned by your hand. “I don't use you just for your warmth, you dumbass.” She struggles against you. “Lemme go, I wanna hit you.”

“No,” you mumble before leaning down to bury your face in her neck again. “You wake me up in the middle of the night to talk about whatever nonsense you want or because you can't sleep.”

She'll wake up at the most random times in the night, just as you're about to fall asleep. She'll start talking, and you'll be half asleep as you listen to her go on a 3 am rant on how the neighbor a floor above you always stomps around in heels at random hours of the night and keeps her awake. Or about why pigeons are evil.

And if she's not talking, she's staring at you while you're asleep or playing with your hair. You've lost count of the times you've woken up with her fingers combing through your hair or tracing the lines of your face.

“You have the biggest sweet tooth I've ever seen.”

She wakes up in the middle of the night, leaving you to raid the kitchen for candy and pastries. You'll wake up at 3 am, only to realize the left side of the bed is cold. You get up, stumbling out of bed to look for her.

You'll find her with a spoon in one hand, a bag of cookies in the other. Sometimes sitting on the counter, sometimes sitting on the floor with her back against the wall, happily munching away.

“You even went ahead and stole the candies I keep in the fridge for Isha. I have to hide everything for that girl in the house or there won't be anything left for her.”

There's the time she ate all of Isha's snacks in one evening. And you had to make another trip to the corner store to go and replace those.

She'll grab a bowl of candy or chips and eat it in front of the TV, finishing the whole bag. If she's really into it, she'll probably grab a small snack here and there as well. Isha gets jealous when she eats all of her snacks, but she doesn't mind sharing either.

Sometimes you'll find her on the couch with a handful of candy in her hands while Isha sits next to her, telling her to “share and quit hogging.”

You also remember the one time she ate a ton of ice cream out of the carton and made herself sick later that night. She got a massive brain freeze and swore to “never eat another bit of ice cream again.” She ate some two days later.

“You steal my clothes. Always.”

She'll take anything you own that she can wear. Hoodies, sweaters, shirts. She'll grab a pair of socks or a pair of jeans and wear them herself. You're not even sure how you own any clothes anymore, seeing as a majority of your clothes have been stolen.

“You always take my hoodies-”

“-Because they're comfy and smell like you.” She huffs as a counter, cutting you off.

“-And never give them back,” you finish, raising an eyebrow.

“And it's not like you mind that much,” she counters again.

True, you like it when she wears your clothes. Still, not all of your clothes are hers to take.

She even takes your underwear. Or, at least, the ones that you don't mind her taking. Though sometimes she'll put them on and then try to tease you by making sure they're visible by the waistband peeking up from her shorts or her pants.

She tries to justify it by saying, “No one can see me,” and the fact you “see her naked almost every day anyway.”

“My underwear is still my underwear.”

She laughs. “What, you don't like it when I wear them?” She tilts her head.

She knows damn well you like it when she wears them.

She will sit herself on your lap, wearing nothing besides a pair of your underwear and one of your hoodies. She'll start to rock her hips against you, slowly grinding against you as she stares at you.

“Never said that, did I?” you kiss her neck again. “Just saying, they're mine.” Your hands are still keeping her wrists pinned.

She wriggles in your grasp again.

“You use up the hot water trying to shower.”

She always has these long showers that last way longer than necessary. She likes taking her time with it, so half the time you're left showering in cold water. Or just sitting around and waiting till she's done.

Her hair is the reason. Sometimes you'd get frustrated when you're already late to drop Isha off at school, and Jinx is taking a long time in the shower.

But you kind of enjoyed it when you joined her under the shower.

She snickers. She's probably thinking the same thing. “Only because you jump me in the shower and start messing around,” she says, and she wiggles again, trying to pull her wrists out of your grip, and you tighten your grip on her wrists in response. She bites her bottom lip. “It's not my fault you can't get enough of me.”

A smirk tugs at the corner of your mouth again as you lean down, biting at the crook of her neck again. “No,” you respond. “I can't get enough of you.”

She sighs and arches her neck amore, letting you press more kisses against her neck, her jawline, moving towards her ear.

“You paint on my things, even though you have your own.”

She'd doodle in the margins of your newspapers, on the cover of books, on old magazines, and once she even painted designs on a white t-shirt of yours. A shirt that, now, you couldn't wear out anymore. But you kept it because she liked it when you wore it.

You remember coming home to find her painting your shoes pink, then complaining she got your shoes dirty. She was trying to make them 'prettier'.

Or the time she tried to paint the TV. Her excuse was that you needed a paintable TV. Somehow.

“Not all things are paintable.”

She huffs. “Well, all things are if you try hard enough.”

“That's not... you know that's not true,” you mutter as your grip on her wrists loosens.

Once they're free, she immediately lifts them up and hooks them around your shoulders. She pulls you down, pressing herself against you, until all you can hear is the sound of her quickened breathing and the rapid beating of her heart against her ribs.

You bury your face into the crook of her neck, your nose pressing into her skin. Your arms wrap around her waist, pulling her close.

She lifts her hands and lets her fingers tangle into your hair, playing with it before she grabs at your roots, her fingertips pressing into your scalp.

“I love you,” you murmur. “Exactly the way you are.” You pause to let it sink in, but you continue speaking before she can cut you off. “I stay with you because I want to stay with you.”

You can feel her heartbeat, the slow, steady thudding, picking up as she swallows. You can feel her hands, buried in your hair, still holding onto you. And you stay quiet too, until you feel her shift beneath you and her hands move, sliding from your hair to the sides of your face.

She pulls you away, just enough to get a look at your face. She cups your face in her palms.

You hold her hand against your cheek, turning your head as you press a kiss against her palm, before staring down into her eyes. “I'm with you,” you murmur. “Because I choose to be with you. I choose you.”

Your lips brush against the skin of her palm before they move up to her fingers. One by one, you press kisses along the tips of her fingers. “I choose to love you,” you continue. “I choose to hold you close.”

You raise your own hand, taking her palms in your grip, your thumb tracing over the ridges of her knuckles. “I choose to listen to you when you need someone to listen.” You pause to press a kiss on her wrist, feeling her pulse beating against your lips.

“I choose to stay awake with you on the bad nights.” You feel her pulse quicken when you brush your nose against it. “I choose to wake up next to you every morning. And I choose to deal with your morning breath.” You grin, and she smacks your arm at that.

Your thumb runs across the pale, soft skin of her forearms. “I choose to deal with you hogging the blankets and the space in the bed.” Your hand slides to the crook of her elbow, where you press another kiss.

“I choose to wake up to your cold feet against my legs.” Your thumb moves along the inside of her arms, tracing the shape of her bones. “I choose your snoring,” you add. “I choose to wake up with a drool on my shirt because you forgot to close your mouth.”

You press another kiss onto her skin. “I choose to deal with your bad mood by making you hot chocolate,” you continue. “I choose to deal with your bad mood by pulling you into my lap and making you snuggle with me until you calm down.”

Your hand moves to her biceps, your fingers tracing the curves of her muscles. “I choose to love you even on the hard days,” you mutter. “On the days you can't look at me in the eye. On the days when you can't get out of bed. On the days when you're angry at the world.”

Your hand travels up her arms, your eyes never leaving her face as you finally reach her shoulders. “I choose to stay beside you,” you murmur, your thumb rubbing slowly, soothing circles over her collarbone. “On the days you feel like no one understands. On the days you feel like the world is against you. I choose to stay next to you.”

“I choose to be beside you on the days you can't stand yourself,” you continue. “I choose to be beside you even on the days you think you don't deserve to be loved.”

Your thumb trails up the side of her neck, feeling her pulse quicken when you pause at her throat. “And when the world is dark and cold,” you say. “And the shadows grow long.” Your hand slides further up the long column of her neck, until your thumb sits on her jaw, and you feel her swallow. “I still choose you.”

“I have you in my arms.” Your thumb on her chin, you lift her face, tilting her head. “I have you here,” you mutter. “And even if you're not sure why. Even if you feel like you're a shadow in the dark or a whisper in a silent room,” your thumb slides along the sides of her jaw. “I know you're here, and you're real, and I choose to love you.”

“And whatever comes after this.” Your thumb traces over the line of her jaw, her chin, and upwards again, moving over her lips. “Whatever comes tomorrow. Whenever everything's dark. I still choose you.” Your thumb pauses at the corner of her mouth, and you watch the way her lips part. “I will always choose you.”

Your eyes move upwards, your gaze meeting hers. “Got all that?””

“When did you get so goddamned good at sweet talk?”

“When I met you.”

Jinx wrinkles her nose, scoffing. “Damn, that's kinda cheesy.”

“Well, I was aiming for sappy.”

“You were aiming for corny.”

“Sappy, corny, cheesy.” You shrug. “Potato, potahto.”

She scoffs. “What's next? you're gonna tell me you 'love me to the moon and back'?”

“I love you to the moon and back.”

She laughs, shaking her head. “I regret falling for you.” Her hands slide from your face into your hair again, and she brings your face down, kissing you once, then twice.

You pull away, just far enough that you can look at her face. “Every time you doubt it. I'll remind you. I'll tell you if you forget.”

She shakes her head. “Cheesy.” But she pulls you closer again anyway, stealing another kiss from your lips.

You kiss her back, letting your tongue slip out to drag against her lip. She sighs against your mouth, and you take the opportunity to slip your tongue between her lips. Your hands slide down from her waist to her hips and down to her rear, squeezing her in your palms.

She shudders, her own hands sliding up to grasp your shoulders as you nip at her bottom lip.

You pull away from the kiss and slide your lips down her jaw, peppering kisses all along the column of her throat. One of your hands slides up from her rear to the hem of her shirt, tugging at it.

She sighs, arching against you as your hand sneaks under the hem of her shirt to touch the bare skin of her stomach.

You slide your hand further up, feeling the smooth skin of her abdomen and the ridges of her ribs, until your fingers are tracing the edge of her bra.

Just when your fingers graze the clasp of her bra, there's a knock at the door. Before you can curse at it, there's a whine from the other side of the door and the doorknob begins to turn.

It's Isha.

She stands in the doorway, her stuffed blue rabbit held tightly in her arms. She's wearing her new pajamas.

You sigh, pulling your hand from underneath her shirt. You look down at Jinx, and her shirt is ridden up enough and a generous amount of her stomach is exposed.

Isha lets go of the doorknob and shuffles into the room.

“What is it, Isha?” Jinx asks, sitting up and pulling her shirt down to cover her stomach. She scoots over on the bed, allowing you to move away from her to sit at the edge.

Isha shuffles closer, stopping just at the edge of the bed but not climbing up, and looks up at the both of you with wide, watery eyes.

“What's wrong, little one?” you ask, beckoning her to climb onto the bed.

She lets go of her bunny to grab at your hand, her fingers curling around your palm. You help her onto the bed, watching as she tucks her rabbit under her arm, once again holding it closely to her chest.

She's sitting between the two of you now, her little hands holding onto your own and Jinx's.

“Did you have a nightmare?” Jinx asks. You watch her lift a hand to brush some of the hair out of Isha's face.

She shakes her head. Her eyes dart down to her bunny, then to the hands that she's holding.

“Then what's wrong, sweetheart?” You give her hand a squeeze. “Do you want to sleep with us?”

She nods, lifting her gaze to look at you. Her head turns to look at Jinx as well, who simply smiles down at her.

You let out a sigh, letting go of her hand to scoot back on the bed. “Okay.” You pat the empty space between you and Jinx. “Come on, then.”

She wastes no time scrambling over the covers, crawling over so she's sitting between you and Jinx. Jinx grabs her bunny and sets it near the pillow, making sure it's within Isha's reach.

Isha then plops down onto the bed and lays down, pulling her bunny close to her chest once more. Then she rolls over and snuggles up against your side, her head resting on your chest.

“She’s always stealing you from me,” Jinx mutters.

You reach out and pull Jinx against you, sandwiching Isha between the two of you. “Jealous much?”

“Nah.” She props herself up on her elbow to look down at the girl between you and pokes her cheek.

Isha grumbles, burying her face in your chest in an attempt to shield it. You laugh and wrap your arm around her body, holding her securely against you.

Jinx pokes her again, this time prodding a little harder. Isha whines and buries deeper into you.

“Stop it, you're bothering her.” You reach over and grab Jinx's hand so that she can't poke Isha again.

Jinx flips you off, then stops poking the girl. Instead, she lays back down on the bed and drapes her arm over both you and Isha. Isha grumbles, her fingers gripping at your shirt.

You look down at the girl, her head still nestled against your chest. You brush some of the hair out of her face, then gently rub her back. Slowly, her body starts to relax, her tight grip on your shirt loosening as she begins to fall asleep.

You glance over at Jinx, who's watching you with a smile on her face. She reaches over and pats Isha's head a couple of times before returning her hand to your side.

“She's asleep,” you whisper, looking down at the now dozing girl. Her eyes are closed, her tiny hands are no longer gripping at your shirt, and her features are relaxed. Jinx nods, her hand rubbing up and down your side.

Jinx shifts and cuddles closer to you, one of her legs wrapping around yours beneath the covers. “You know, we're going to have to sleep like this all night now,” she mumbles as she runs her fingers through your hair.

“Mmm, don't remind me,” you murmur. “She's as clingy as you sometimes.”

Jinx scoffs, poking you in the ribs with one of her nails. “She's a hundred times worse.”

Your side aches where she poked you, and you huff out a breath, swatting at her hand. “Maybe we should get a bigger bed.”

She snickers. “And risk having more room for little miss clingy to steal you from me? no thank you.”

“I think it is quite literally impossible for you to get clingier,” you mutter. “Besides, why are you so jealous of a ten year old?”

“I can be plenty clingy,” Jinx counters, her hand scratching at your scalp. “And I'm not jealous,” she continues. “She just needs to stay in her own goddamn bed.”

“We could start locking the door?”

Jinx snorts, her hand leaving your head. “And leave her to bang on and whine at the door for hours?” She scoffs. “Absolutely not. I'd be fine if she didn't crawl into our bed, but she always does the moment we're trying to have some alone time.”

“Fair enough” you sigh. “Maybe we could lock her door, keep her in there.”

Jinx laughs, poking at you again with a fingernail. “Or, or... we could just lock her out of our room instead and let her deal with herself for once.”

“You know that would never work,” you say. “She’d just end up sleeping on the floor in front of our door until we let her back in.”

“Ugh, I know.” She groans. “She really is the biggest pain in my ass. Second biggest, now that I think about it.”

“And who's the first?”

“Who do you think, dickhead?” she teases.

“Ah, me, of course.” Jinx pokes you in the ribs again. “Ouch. Hey, stop that,” you murmur, swatting at her hand.

Jinx scoffs, a smirk on her face as she pokes you again. “It's so fun to annoy you.” Her finger pokes into your side for a third time.

“Okay, okay, enough,” you grab her hand to stop another poke. “I surrender, you're the biggest pain in my ass.”

“I know,” Jinx grins, pulling her hand free to poke you one final time before resting it back down on your side. “I'm also the hottest pain in your ass, too. No one else compares.”

“You're the hottest and the biggest pain in both of my ass cheeks.” You brush some of her hair away from her face.

“Damn right,” she says, leaning into your touch for a moment before grinning and placing her palm against one of your ass cheeks. “My pain in the ass.”

—

“Ugh. She's still asleep?” Jinx whispers, staring down at the drooling little girl between the two of you.

You look down at her, her face pressed against your chest and a pool of drool collecting on your shirt. You try to shift away, but the girl won't let you go, her body and fingers still wrapped around you.

“You know…” you whisper, looking pointedly at the drool on your shirt. “She's just like you.”

You swear you just saw her eyes twitch.

...you end up on the floor the moment you wake up after that.

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