#and at the end she’s going to lose them

[myth1cs]

Sweet Obsession (Im Nayeon, Minatozaki Sana x M!Reader)

Someone had to write the Sanayeon kiss. It's me, I mean if I didn't write this someone might've written it with their Male OC, and who wants that?

(No hard feelings 미나-사이야트 / 카운트온미 right?)

Word Count: 2,663

The members were told to do things to "excite the fans" and "get them talking" about the fan meet. Sana, naturally, thought that an easy way to get people to talk about the fan meet was to act like she was going to kiss the members.

She knew they would all back up so the thought that she might actually kiss one of them never crossed her mind. And everything was going well. That is until it came to Nayeon.

Nayeon didn't back down and leaned into the kiss. Both thought the other would back away but they ended up kissing by accident on stage.

A lot of people went wild over it. Sana and Nayeon got all flustered about the ordeal but didn't have time to dwell on their feelings as Jihyo, who didn't see what just happened, made Nayeon focus on singing her part of the song.

Once the fan meet came to a close. Sana went over to Nayeon's fitting room to discuss their kiss. Sana opened the door and a soft "Hello?" fell out of her mouth.

What she didn't expect was to see Nayeon changing into her casual clothes. Nayeon was in her bra and panties, and Sana couldn't keep her eyes off her unnie, she was enticed by her boobs and pussy. She watched as her older member took off her pantie revealing a pink pussy. The thought of being able to lick it made Sana's mouth water.

Nayeon reached behind her back to take off her bra but before she did that she noticed Sana peaking through the door. "Sana what are you doing?!"

Sana quickly went in the room and locked the door. Her unnie gave her a "Explain yourself" look which made Sana gulp.

"Well uhm- unnie I just wanted to talk to you about our... kiss."

Nayeon's cheeks flushed pink as the memory of them sharing a kiss played in her mind.

"What about it?"

"I haven't been able to forget the way your lips felt on mine."

Nayeon's cheeks burned a brighter red from Sana's confession. "I haven't either." the older admitted.

The pair got closer together up until they could each feel the others hot breath on the other. Sana pressed her breast against Nayeon's making the older girl moan.

"Agh~"

Neither could resist their lust anymore and they both entangled their lips together. Their tongues rubbed against each others. Sana pressed her body further against her unnies.

Her naughty hand got the better of her and she reached over to grab Nayeon's plump ass giving it a firm squeeze. Nayeon moaned from the feeling and Sana took this opportunity to get the advantage in the tongue war.

Nayeon wasn't about to go down without a fight and started to rub Sana's clothed nipple with her thumb. Sana was really sensitive and the simple rubbing was enough to make her lose her advantage.

Both of them pulled away from each other.

"That's not fair unnie! You can't just rub my nipples like that, they're sensitive!"

"Well maybe you shouldn't have grabbed my ass like that."

"That's different, my nipples are more sensitive than your ass."

"You still lost the tongue war Sana. Now can it and got on your knees and eat me out like a good girl."

Sana huffed but decided to go along with it. She got down on her knees and slid off Nayeon's panties. Her pussy was drenched wet with arousal.

Sana licked Nayon's pussy lips eagerly. "Mmm good girl. You're just as horny as our male fans!" Sana wasn't even hearing Nayeon anymore. She was too focused on lapping up every fluid inside of her unnie.

Something felt incomplete though. Even with all of this stimulation Nayeon didn't feel like she was able to cum yet. She tried to stimulate herself further by groping her own boobs and lightly pinching her nipples.

Still it didn't feel like enough. "Sana add a finger."

"Mhm!" Sana muffled as she added a finger to Nayeon's pussy.

Putting her hands on the back of the youngers head she pushed her further into her pussy. "More! I need more fingers in me!"

She bit her lips hard when she felt the sensation of more fingers being added to her tight pussy.

"I- I don't think I can cum like this."

"Am I being bad?"

"No it's not you. I think I need a cock."

"Did you bring a strap on with you?"

"I didn't. And there aren't any stores nearby that sell those."

"Can it wait until tomorrow?"

"Ugh I'm too aroused right now. I feel like I'm going to explode if I don't cum tonight."

Sana tried to make her unnie cum despite knowing she wasn't able to get enough stimulation on her own. She stood up and licked Nayeon's nipples while pumping her fingers in and out of her pussy.

"I appreciate the attempt but it's not enough!"

All of this was making Sana soaked. A wet spot could be seen on her pants. "A cock sounds really good right now."

"But who are we going to get? I don't want to ask one of our managers. They're old and probably can't keep up with us."

"Are you forgetting something unnie? We just had a fan meet."

-

You - along with many other people - gathered around the area where Twice would be leaving. You've been waiting for a while but seeing Twice up close in person would make it all worth it.

The time came and Twice started to walk to the cars and you were hoping to see your bias.

Twice members were handing out Mina dollars that were used in the seven rings performance and you were lucky enough to be handed one by Sana.

You waved the members goodbye as they entered the cars. Once they were all gone you started to make your way back to your car.

When you got in your car you were about to drive back home but you decided to get a good look at the Mina dollar you received first. As you were inspecting it you realized that a small piece of paper was taped to it.

Curious, you took off the paper and turned it around. All that was written on it was an address to a hotel along with the following written text "Room 305, Code: 102015."

"What is this?" you thought to yourself.

Maybe this wasn't meant for you but for the members. Should you give it back?

There were a lot of things you didn't know but you decided to go to the place listed on the paper. Not like you had anything to lose other than a bit of sleep.

You put the address in the GPS and started your drive to the hotel.

Truth be told you weren't sure what you were even expecting. Would you be lucky enough to see a Twice member or would you just run into a manager?

Once you arrived at the hotel you went in. Once you stepped in you could immediately tell that it was way out of your league. Everything looked so expensive.

You walked to the front desk and the lady at the front desk spoke to you "Is there anything I can help you with sir?".

"I'm here to visit someone in room 305."

"Are you part of the staff?"

"Y- yes?" You obviously sounded hesitant and the lady looked at you suspiciously.

"What's the code to the area?"

"102015."

...

"I'll tell them you're on your way."

You breathed a sigh of relief and went to the elevators.

Once you arrived on the third floor you went to room 305. Standing in front of the door you knocked three times and waited not knowing what to expect.

The door opened and your jaw dropped when you saw who was on the other side.

"Sana?!"

She grabbed your arm and pulled you into the room.

"What's your name?"

"Y/N."

"Do you want to see a 'special' concert just for you Y/N?"

"Nayeon?! You're here to?"

She nodded her head and rested her head on your shoulders. "Is this what the paper was for?"

"It is what it was for Y/N. We chose a lucky once to give a private concert, and it looks like the lucky once was you."

Looks like it was your lucky day! Getting a private show from 2 Twice members? It was like a dream come true.

"Follow us."

You followed behind Nayeon and Sana to their bedroom. Not exactly sure what to expect but it certainly wasn't this.

Once you entered their bedroom you saw that it was mostly dark with the only light being red LED's which were hung around the room. "What's all this for?"

"Close your eyes Y/N. We have to get your special surprise ready for you before we can start your 'special' concert."

Following their orders you closed your eyes. You heard a few things fall on the floor along with a bit of shuffling.

"You can open your eyes now baby." Nayeon said.

Once you opened your eyes you saw something that immediately made your cock hard.

"Like what you see Y/N?" Sana asked.

"This is so hot."

Sana and Nayeon led you to the bed. "Who do you want first Sana or me?"

"I want both of you at the same time."

"So damn horny huh?"

Sana pushed you onto the bed and started to slide off your pants and boxers. Your hard cock sprung out hitting Sana's cheeks. "Oh it feels so good she moaned out." She started to rub her face against your erection. You put your hands on the back of her hair and gripped it tightly from the pleasure her face was giving you.

"Don't leave me out of the fun Sana!" Like she was some sort of jealous girlfriend Nayeon shoved Sana and started to rub her face against your cock aggressively. "So warm Y/N. This feels so much better than those dildos."

Not wanting to be outdone Sana shoved herself back onto your cock. Seeing two Twice members fight over your cock was something you thought would only happen in your dreams but now it was a reality, and you intended to make the most of it.

"I don't know Sana I think Nayeon knows how to please a cock more."

"That's not true I can please a cock way better than Nayeon!"

"I think you're going to have to prove it then."

Nayeon understood where you were going and got off you. She didn't mind being in the sidelines as long as you fucked her later. Before she completely got off the bed she whispered something to your ear.

"Just so you know Sana is sensitive on her nipples."

With that being said Nayeon got off the bed and sat on the conveniently placed chair that was facing the bed.

You grabbed Sana's arms and pinned her to the bed. "Let's see just how good you can please me then." You rubbed your hard erection on Sana's drenched pussy to make it wet.

"Mhm ah~ so good Y/N."

Leaning down to catch Sana's lips you and Sana shared a passionate slow kiss. Nayeon fingered herself as she was watching the scene unfold in front of her.

You pulled off her lips and started to leave hickeys on her face. "N- no Y/N you can't mark me. We have to film a Time to Twice episode tomorrow."

Smack

Sana yelped from the sudden smack on her pussy. "I don't remember you being the one to give orders. Now shut it and let me do what I want."

"Yes sir."

Continuing down her perfect body you reached her breasts and licked her nipple. "Shit I'm so sensitive there Y/N."

Attacking your lips to her breasts you sucked on them as if her breast were producing milk for you. Her breast were moderately big. Not as big as Nayeon's but they were big enough for you to have fun with.

You put your cock in between her breasts and started to mush them onto your cock. Since your cock was nice and wet from Sana's pussy lips you had no problem gliding her breasts up and down on your cock. She suppressed her moans as best she could knowing her members were next door.

"What's wrong Sana, don't want the others finding out how much of a whore you are?"

She nodded her head.

You gave her nipples a soft bite before you got settled on the main attraction. Positioning your cock in front of Sana's hole you shoved yourself inside her pussy.

Sana's pussy clenched around your erection making it hard for you to get in deep. You put a little force with your thrusts, shoving yourself deeper into Sana.

"Oh~ Y/N I can feel your cock deep inside me. More, I want more!"

"Such a- needy little - slut huh?" You were running out of breath as you felt yourself get closer to climax.

Nayeon decided she had enough of touching herself and joined you in the bed. She sat on top of Sana and shoved her breasts on your face while rubbing Sana's clit at the same time.

"Suck mommy's breasts baby they're all for you!"

You put your tongue all over Nayeon's breasts as you continued thrusting in and out of Sana's pussy.

"Ah! Y/N I'm cumming!"

A violent shake coursed through Sana as she climaxed all over your cock. You kept thrusting to prolong it as much as possible.

So much cum spilled out of Sana that some of it stained the bed sheets. You felt yourself about to cum but before you could Nayeon pushed you off of Sana.

"You can't cum in her. But you can cum in my mouth if you want."

You rapidly shook your head. Nayeon liked your eagerness and took your whole cock in her mouth in one swift motion. She drank the cum that Sana released on your cock.

Nayeon shoved your cock so deep in her throat that it touched the back of her throat. She gagged a little but not by much.

"You don't have a gag reflex?"

"I've had my fair share of cocks in me."

The idol expertly sucked on your cock making you cum in no time. Unlike Sana's cum, every last drop of your cum was swallowed by Nayeon. Her cheeks puffed out but she managed to take the seemingly endless ropes of semen you were spilling.

"Now's not the time to get tired baby. I'm still horny."

How could anyone say no to that? Especially after she just drank your load of cum.

Nayeon pumped your cock a few more times until you were hard again. She got on all fours and looked back at you.

"My ass isn't going to fuck itself Y/N."

Like some sort of wild animal you quickly shoved your hard erection inside Nayeon's ass feeling its tightness which only drove you more feral. You couldn't help yourself but give her big ass a few smacks which left her ass red.

"Yes Y/N just like that!"

As you were thrusting into Nayeon's ass you suddenly felt Sana wrap her arms around you. "I'm still here sir."

She kissed your neck as you continued your assault on Nayeon's ass. "Fuck Nayeon I'm still sensitive! I'm going to cum again!"

"Do it baby, cum in my big ass!"

Once again ropes of cum spilled from your cock onto Nayeon's ass. Her eyes rolled back as she felt herself being filled with the warm fluids. "Sana I like him. We should keep him around for when we get horny."

"Agreed."

Sana fell on the bed, you fell on top of Sana, and Nayeon fell on top of you. You all drifted off to sleep.

And what better way to fall asleep than sandwiched between your favorite idols?

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

카운트 - 온 - 미 No hard feelings though right? I just didnt like your Male OC idea. I'm just doing my job as an x Reader writer.

[cocomuffy]

oh my gooooodddd

i don't know if this is bad tumblr etiquette (how have i been on here a year and still not know ;-;) but i NEED to yap about my baby willow okay??? and this post makes me think of her so hard.

tw for death, violence, grooming, and abuse (if i need to add more tags, please let me know!)

when she was young, she had such a big heart. she was helping grannies across the street since she knew how to cross the street. she tried to learn how to cook to help her dad, even if it sucked so bad that he barely ever asked her to.

and then she loses her best friend and brother figure, freddie, when that monster attacks them. she has to put him out of his misery, like he was begging her to, with her own hands and she still has that big heart. but now, it's bleeding.

but life goes on. she makes a little memorial to freddie, but she never tells anyone how his life really ended. she has to go on. she makes new friends. she gets a boyfriend.

then that boyfriend just starts to see her as a body. she realizes that she (15) was being manipulated by him (17) and she finds out that he was cheating on her. and that's another blow to her heart, which just keeps bleeding. she can't control it.

and then the battle of manhattan happens and she has to go through the pain of losing more people that were close to her. she gets closer to the people that she has.

she finds out her dad is dead when she goes to visit and finds someone new in his house. she has to call around to try and find any information on what happened to him. he was in a car accident, and since they had no other family to tell her, she was never told.

then her current brother figure is cursed. and she will do anything. her heart can't take another death, not another person close to her. she throws herself into the depths of tartarus on a stupid bet. she was playing with a god. she loses an eye, she breaks a leg irreparably. she spends months in the infirmary and the hospital and she needs a service dog and canes and crutches...

and her heart is still bleeding.

she goes to get her dog, and the place they're at reminds her of when her and her dad went to get a dog when she was little. she has to hold back tears.

she sees hyacinths growing in the window of the demeter cabin. they remind her of what freddie told her that he hoped he was reincarnated as. she stays inside for the rest of the day.

she can't find her shoes but she *has* to go outside right now. the sensation of the cobbles on her feet makes her think of the glass sand of tartarus. she has to hold back until she gets in the house.

the nightly bonfire which used to be so fun for her now makes her feel like she's entrapped by the smoke and the heat and that she needs to run far away, even if, rationally, she knows that she's safe.

sorry had to yap about willow grove i love her so much

Forget about torturing your blorbos, putting them through the ringer. I'm putting my blorbo in perfectly ordinary, pleasant situations. Their tortured personality will cause them anguish anyway, making an absolutely mundane scene into the most dramatic, agony filled affair as though the world is ending and it's all their fault

[bradleysass]

Boost - @into-the-jeggyverse - wc: 337

Regulus Black had faced many challenges in his life. Escaping the Death Eaters? Check. Faking his own death? Check. Developing an entire personality around liking black coffee and classic literature to maintain an air of mysterious aloofness? Unfortunately, also check.

But nothing compared to the trials and tribulations of being five-foot-six in a world that did not respect short kings.

His friends—if one could call them that, considering their complete and utter lack of shame—never let him forget it.

“Do you want a booster seat, Reggie?” Pandora asked sweetly as they slid into a booth at the little café down the street from Grimmauld Place.

Regulus, who had just barely settled onto the seat, slowly turned his head to glare at her.

“I will end your bloodline,” he said, voice flat.

“I mean, you’re not even tall enough to reach my throat, so,” she said, sipping her tea.

James—who, at a grotesque six-foot-one, had never faced a single hardship in his life—was already shaking with laughter beside him.

“You guys are terrible,” he said, not sounding like he meant it at all. “My poor, tiny boyfriend.”

Regulus pinched the bridge of his nose. “James.”

“Yes, my little porcelain doll?”

“Would you like to die today?”

James leaned over and kissed the top of his head. Right there. In public. As if Regulus were some sort of child.

Sirius—who, at a criminally tall six-foot-even, had never had to work for a single thing—was losing it across the table. “Oh, mate. You let him do that to you?”

“As if he has a choice,” James said, slinging an arm over Regulus’ shoulder, practically engulfing him.

Regulus took a slow, deep breath and debated the structural integrity of the café’s butter knives.

“I’m going to order a coffee.”

“Want me to ask if they have kiddie cups?” Marlene piped up from the other side of the table.

Regulus lunged.

[ksdarou]

Your aunts Yeji and Jihyo

Words: 1861

Tags : Big tits, big ass, teasing, threesome

The rain pattered against the window as I sat at my desk, surrounded by a fortress of textbooks and notes. My eyes scanned the pages with a fervor reserved for those on the brink of academic war. The looming exams were the only things that mattered in my world, a world where every second was a precious battle won or lost. The scent of brewing coffee filled the air, a silent ally in my quest for knowledge.

The doorbell rang, piercing the quiet solitude of my study sanctuary. It was an unexpected disturbance, but one that had to be acknowledged. I dragged my gaze away from the text, my heart racing from the sudden interruption. Opening the door revealed my mother, drenched from the rain, holding a suitcase and a look of apology etched into her features. She announced that she and dad had to leave for a business trip and, much to my dismay, my two aunts, Yeji and Jihyo, would be staying with me.

They strutted in, their laughter echoing through the hallways like the first rumblings of an approaching storm. Both brunettes, they were as different as night and day in their habits. Yeji, with a penchant for leaving a trail of glitter wherever she went, and Jihyo, whose culinary adventures often resulted in a kitchen that looked like it had been ransacked by a tornado. Their arrival marked the end of my peaceful study routine, I feared.

The first night was a blur of introductions and promises to keep the house in order. But as the days bled into one another, so did their chaos. By the time I emerged from my room for breakfast, the living room looked like a party had raged through it. Empty pizza boxes, soda cans, and a tangled web of clothes lay scattered, a stark contrast to the pristine orderliness I had maintained.

I clenched my teeth and began the arduous task of cleaning, my mind racing with the time I was losing. Each stroke of the mop, each wipe of the countertop felt like a betrayal to my studies. But the mess grew faster than I could tidy, and my frustration mounted like the pile of dirty dishes in the sink. How could I possibly keep up with this while preparing for the most important tests of my life?

After a week of this, I couldn't take it anymore. The pressure built in me like a volcano ready to erupt. I stormed into their shared room, where they were lounging on the bed, watching reality TV with the volume turned up to eleven. "This can't go on!" I shouted, slamming the door behind me. "I can't keep cleaning up after you two every day! It's taking all my time!"

They exchanged glances, a flicker of understanding passing between them. Yeji spoke first, her voice laced with a mix of contrition and mischief. "We're sorry, sweetie. We know we're not the tidiest houseguests. But you're right, we should help out more. Starting today, we'll take care of all the cleaning and cooking. You just focus on studying, okay?"

I eyed them skeptically, not quite believing their sudden change of heart. "Fine," I said, "But if you mess up again..."

Their response was swift and surprising. The next day, as I sat at the kitchen table with my head buried in algebra, Yeji sashayed in, her tight yoga pants hugging her curves like a second skin. She leaned over to grab a plate, her breasts brushing against my shoulder. Jihyo followed, wearing a sheer blouse that revealed more than it concealed. They giggled and whispered, casting seductive glances my way. The scent of their perfume filled the air, a distraction as potent as the aroma of freshly baked cookies wafting from the oven.

The days grew longer, and so did the stretches of their 'accidental' touches. The line between study breaks and distractions blurred as they began to clean in increasingly provocative ways. Yeji would bend over to pick up a towel, her round ass in the air, while Jihyo would lean against the fridge, her blouse gaping open as she offered me a snack. The tension in the house grew thick enough to cut with a knife, and it wasn't just from my unresolved anger.

One evening, as I sat at my desk, a hand snaked around my neck, the scent of vanilla and lilac invading my senses. It was Jihyo, her eyes twinkling with mischief. "You've been working so hard," she whispered, her breath hot against my ear. "Let us help you... relax."

Her hand slid down to my crotch, her touch electric. Yeji appeared behind her, smiling coyly. They had figured out my secret, and suddenly, my quiet study sessions had turned into something far more... distracting.

"We noticed you've been stressed," Yeji purred, her hand caressing my thigh. "We want to help you de-stress."

I gulped, trying to focus on my books. "I can handle it."

But they had other plans. They began to clean around me, their movements deliberately sensual. Yeji bent over to dust the floor, her perfect ass taunting me from under her short skirt. Jihyo leaned against the wall, her ample breasts pressing against the fabric of her shirt as she pretended to wipe a non-existent smudge. The tension in the room was palpable, and I could feel my resolve slipping away with every passing minute.

The next day, I found myself in a compromising position. My pants around my ankles, Yeji's hand wrapped around my cock, stroking me to a crescendo of pleasure. Jihyo watched with a smirk, her hand playing with her own cleavage. It was wrong, but the feeling was undeniable. I came, my release spurting onto their eager hands.

They giggled, their eyes shining with victory. "See?" Jihyo said, wiping her hand on a tissue. "You needed that."

I couldn't argue. My stress had dissipated, and my mind felt clearer than it had in days. But I knew this couldn't go on. Or could it?

The following day, as I studied in the bedroom, they entered, wearing nothing but aprons. "We thought we'd help you study," Yeji said, her voice a purr. Jihyo sat on the edge of the bed, her legs crossed, revealing a hint of what lay beneath the frilly fabric.

They offered to help me with my anatomy homework, their fingers tracing over diagrams in a way that had nothing to do with the human body and everything to do with mine. Before I knew it, we were all tangled up in the sheets, the books forgotten on the floor.

The days turned into a cycle of study and release. They would help me with my homework, their bodies a tantalizing distraction that somehow made the information stick in my mind. And then, when I couldn't take it anymore, they would give me the ultimate study break.

I knew it was wrong. I knew it was a terrible way to prepare for exams. But as the days ticked down and the pile of tests grew smaller, I couldn't ignore the fact that my grades were improving. And my aunts? They were happier than I'd ever seen them, their laughter filling the house like a sweet melody.

The storm of exams approached, and I was ready. But I knew the real test would come when the results were in. Could I keep this up? Would I want to? And what would happen when my parents returned to find their house a den of iniquity?

For now, though, I had a more pressing concern. My aunts were standing before me, naked and inviting, and there was no way I could resist. The pages of my books fluttered shut as I succumbed to the sweet temptation they offered, the scent of their arousal mixing with the musky aroma of sex in the air. This was not how I thought I would spend my study breaks, but as their hands guided me to their waiting bodies, I couldn't find it in myself to care.

Yeji straddled me, her wet heat enveloping my cock as she began to ride me with the determination of a woman on a mission. Jihyo knelt beside us, her mouth watering as she watched our joined flesh. "Your turn," she said, her voice thick with lust, and she took over, her warm mouth closing around me as Yeji climbed off.

The days grew shorter, and the nights longer, as our sessions of 'de-stressing' grew more intense. We tried new positions, new sensations, each one more exhilarating than the last. I lost track of time, my mind a whirlwind of hormones and homework, my body a tapestry of pleasure and pain.

My exams were just around the corner, and the pressure was mounting. Yet, somehow, amidst the chaos and the ecstasy, I found myself studying harder than ever before. Their distraction was a strange motivator, a carrot on a stick that kept me pushing forward. And when I couldn't focus, their hands, their mouths, their bodies were there, eager to give me the release I so desperately craved.

As the final exam approached, I felt a mix of dread and excitement. Dread for the academic judgment that awaited me and excitement for the culmination of our secret trysts. We had pushed the boundaries of propriety so far, I wasn't sure if there was any going back. But for now, all I could do was hope that the knowledge they had unwittingly instilled in me would be enough to carry me through.

The night before the final test, we had an all-nighter. Not of studying, but of passion. We fucked like animals, our bodies writhing together in a symphony of desire. By the time the sun rose, I was exhausted, both physically and mentally. But as I walked into that exam hall, a strange calm settled over me. I knew that no matter what happened, I had experienced something that most students could only dream of.

The tests were a blur, but when the results came back, they were better than I could have hoped. Somehow, amidst the chaos and the pleasure, I had aced them all. The guilt and the fear of being found out were a distant memory as I held my report card in trembling hands.

But as I turned to face my aunts, the reality of our situation crashed down upon me. We had crossed a line, and I wasn't sure if we could ever go back. Our eyes met, and in that moment, we all knew that our lives had changed forever. The house was cleaner than it had ever been, but our relationship had been forever dirtied by the carnality that had consumed us.

We had to tell my parents, I knew. But the thought of their reaction was too much to bear. The joy of my academic triumph was tainted by the shadow of our secret. Yet, as I looked at Yeji and Jihyo, their smiles filled with pride and satisfaction, I couldn't help but wonder if, in some twisted way, this was the best thing that had ever happened to me.

[glittering-darmallon]

My Rooks Part 1.: Valrys Ingellvar and Canelo de Riva

Questionnaires behind the break

Valrys Ingellvar

1: Where in the Thedas is your Rook from? Nevarra City. However, they were likely born somewhere in the Deep Roads from Orzammar to Nevarra, but they have no way of knowing.

2: What is your character's alignment? Neutral Good

3: Race and class? Dwarf Warrior

4: If your Rook was a companion, where would they be found? Does this mean where in the Lighthouse? They'd have picked up and relocated that mirror of transformation first off. They'd also likely set up shop on the second floor of the laboratory. It looked like there was enough space up there for a dwarf sized bed.

5: What emotion did they usually pick? Affable.

6: What companion are they platonically close with? Their best friends in the Veilguard were Emmrich and Taash

7: Romantically close with? Lace Harding (somewhere in the background proud cries of "That's my wife!" can be heard)

8: Who are they suspicious of? In the Veilguard? None of them. They consider them all like family. They are the kind of person to give benefit of the doubt at first. But once you lose their trust, it is gone forever. They were and are still a little suspicious of Morrigan

9: Does your Rook get along with their chosen Faction? Yes, very much. They love each and every Mourn Watch member, especially their chosen parental figure VORGOTH and loves Myrna like a little sister

10: Are they proficient in playing any instruments? Nope. Not only that, they can't carry a tune to save their life

11: Weapon of choice? A maul. They really liked the one named Lawrence.

12: What is their orientation? I don't know if I have the right word for it. They're genderfluid but only interested in women (they love women so much). So I'm choosing to use sapphic.

13: What are their thoughts on killing? Is it a necessary evil or do they enjoy it? They like fighting but not necessarily killing. However, they understand they live in a dangerous world and it's necessary sometimes. They will try to come to a non-violent solution whenever possible.

14: What hobbies does your Rook have? They like fashion and history. And the lack of finding the clothes they want that fit them right (this is me being mad that even the robes in the game had pants) had them teaching themself how to sew and make clothes. It's my headcannon that in the future when they and Lace get married, they're making their own gown.

15: What NPCs do they like? Which one's do they dislike? I've already mentioned Myrna and VORGOTH but they also like Viper and Antoine and Evka. It's not that they have anything against the other faction leaders, they just wouldn't want to hang out with them much. They really liked talking weather with Karash.

They did NOT like Shathan. Yes, they understand she was struggling to understand Taash's identity struggles and did the best she could, coming around in the end. But they did not appreciate her telling them that "Taash was rarely interested in men" while looking right at them (and this is when they were dressed in the most femme outfit I had access to at the time, and a full face of makeup. They were serving looks) and never apologized for that. That whole conversation made them want to break things.

And they really hated Mythal (only time I've fought her so far).

16: Do they have a favorite creature in the Thedas? They love nuggalopes. It is a life dream to own one for a mount and or pet

17: Do they enjoy life as an adventurer? Yes. They love to learn. My plan for Valrys and Lace post-game is to go on journeys to find and compile Dwarven history into a compendium

18: What would your Rook be doing if they weren't recruited by Varric? Killing every Venatori that dared entering the Necropolis and helping VORGOTH with the hauntings they discover

19: How do you think they'll meet their end? By trying to reason with the wrong person instead of just fighting them

20: Would they side with Solas or fight him? They reluctantly sided with him. But they weren't happy about it.

21: What is your Rook's favorite ability? Deadly ground and Reaper. That Spirit Storm ultimate was amazing

22: What languages is your character fluent in? Other than Trade? Nevarran and somewhat fluent in Orzammar Dwarven but that's self-taught and hard to practice back home (they found a book)

23: What do they do after an absolute crisis? Smash so many things.

24: Does your character believe in the afterlife? Yes. They grew up around spirits. They know there is more.

25: What specialization best represents your Rook? Reaper no question...However, if berserker had been an option....

26: What animal best represents your Rook? An elephant: Strong, smart, protective of their own, great memory and generally pleasant unless you wrong them them they're gonna remember forever and make sure future generations know about it.

27: What was their life like before the events of Veilguard? As much as they liked it and working with the watchers, the Necropolis was starting to feel claustrophobic

28: Is your character the de facto leader of the party? Or do they consider someone else to be the leader? Yes. They were trusted with the job and they take it seriously. They have enjoyed bringing everyone together and helping people

29: If you could choose a different faction for your Rook, which one would they have joined and why? They'd probably enjoy being a Veil Jumper even though they're not magical. The history they'd get to learn about would fascinate them. They would absolutely refuse to wear those outfits. "No. They do nothing for my figure. I look like a lump of mud. Absolutely not"

30: What's your favorite thing about your Rook?

Aside from the fact they're just so good looking? I love how they just let themself feel whatever emotion it is they're feeling. They repress nothing. They're highly emotionally intelligent.

---------------- Canelo de Riva

Where in the Thedas is your Rook from? Born in Seleny, moved to Treviso at approx.16

2. What is your character's alignment? Hard to say. Likely a true neutral of the "heroic neutral" variety.

3. Race and class? Elf rogue, veil ranger

4. If your Rook was a companion, where would they be found? In the Wolf's Den

5. What emotion did they usually pick? Stoic

6. What companion are you platonically close with? He was bff's with Davrin and Harding (yeah I know. Why did I choose to hurt him like that?)

7. Romantically close with? Lucanis

8. Who are they suspicious of? He didn't trust Solas, Illario, and Invenci right from the get go

9. Does your Rook get along with their chosen Faction? For the most part. He is close with Viago and the real reason he was sent away from Treviso was for his safety. Canelo suffered a psychotic break thinking he'd found Antaam member responsible for killing his siblings and just went ham on them. Wasn't even aware of what he'd done until Viago told him. He likes Teia a lot as well. They do each other's hair.

10. Are they proficient in playing any instruments? Nope.

11. Weapon of choice? Longbow specifically the dauntless greatbow he named Jugular (his preferred place to shoot a target)

 12. What is their orientation? Bisexual greyromantic

13. What are their thoughts on killing? Is it a necessary evil or do they enjoy it? A job is a job, and being an assassin pays better than being a prostitute did.

14. What hobbies does your Rook have? He enjoys making his own arrows, including the knapping of arrowheads when he can find appropriate stone. He likes dancing and making beads for hair or jewelry too

15. What NPCs do they like? Which one's do they dislike? As stated above, Viago is very important to him, like an older brother, Teia too. But he likes Tarquin quite a lot, and they both grew up in a lower socioeconomic class. He is to no surprise no big fan of Illario. "I don't care if he's like your brother, mio cuore. He tried to kill you, had you imprisoned in a place where they tortured you. I am never going to like him." He is also no fan of the First Warden

16. Do they have a favorite creature in the Thedas? Dracolisks. He thinks they're awesome. "Lucanis, if you were ever thinking about getting me an extravagant gift...get one of these."

17. Do they enjoy life as an adventurer? He is the kind of guy who would have been happy earning an honest living as a hunter and continuing to raise his little brother and sister and being left alone, but life had other ideas. Adventuring really isn't for him.

18. What would your Rook be doing if they weren't recruited by Varric? He'd love to say still working for the Crows, but he is fairly sure Viago would have made him find other work outside Treviso. It was clearly not doing his mental health any favors, and the city was slowly killing him

19. How do you think they'll meet their end? Likely the way most Crows seem to. In a power grab

 20. Would they side with Solas or fight him? Oh he fought him. Every tragedy in Canelo's life could be traced back to Solas giving Corypheus that orb.

The orb explodes and opens the breach

Demons pour out of fade rifts

His parents are killed by demons on their way to Treviso to collect a shipment of spices to sell at their store.

Canelo is too young and doesn't have the brain for running the store, and it goes under. He and his two year old twin siblings lose the house and end up living in a hunter shack in the Tellari Swamps near Seleny. They do okay for about 2 years

Zenzera gets sick, and Canelo has to sell everything but the clothes on their backs and steal the rest of the gold to get them to a special healer in Treviso.

He cannot find a safe job that will let him bring a pair of four year olds along with.

Ends up becoming a sex worker to feed them, but never makes enough to get them off the street

A noble who had been tossed from the brothels for being too violent with the workers their decides to just quit paying for it and assaults Canelo.

This noble that Canelo kills in self-defense was Viago's contract. This results in Canelo joining the Crows.

The three of them are doing okay for a while.

Then the Antaam, who broke away from the Qun after the events of Tresspasser (Thanks again, Solas) invade Treviso.

Antam raid the market where Zenzera and Zafferano are shopping with some fledglings and are killed.

Canelo falls into a spiral of depression, PTSD, and heavy drinking until the above mentioned psychotic break happens and he snaps, killing those two dozen Antaam and wrecking the big plan that had been in the works.

ERGO- SOLAS AND HIS PERPETUAL FAILURES RUINED CANELO'S LIFE. THEREFORE, THERE WAS NO PEACEFUL RESOLUTION TO SOLAS' STORY.

 21. What is your Rook's favorite ability? Hurricane of Blades and Storm's Path

22.  What languages is your character fluent in? Trade obviously, but Antivan and Rivaini with conversational knowledge of Qunlat and Tevene. He's fairly good at picking up languages. Davrin and Bellara teach him Elvhen when they can.

23. What do they do after an absolute crisis? Go hide on the island with the laser that is floating above the Lighthouse Courtyard and have a good breakdown where no one can see it.

24.  Does your character believe in the afterlife? He wants to, but he's afraid that if it's real, he'll go somewhere other than where his family is. Or if he finds them, they will hate him for the choices he made in life

25. What specialization best represents your Rook? He took Veil Ranger, because it was bow focused, and that suits him just fine

26. What animal best represents your Rook? Jaguar- Quiet until they're not, death from above, solitary, master of tactical retreat (Canelo's tactical retreats come when his emotions are too big for him and he needs a safe place to hide and process them)

 27. What was their life like before the events of Veilguard? See the answer to number 20. It wasn't all bad. The first few years with the Crows were great. For the first time in over 5 years they all had enough to eat. When Canelo became a full Crow, he quickly earned a name for himself for being quick and efficient from far away, his contracts never even knowing he was there. Once the Antaam invaded though, it all fell apart

28. Is your character the de facto leader of the party? Or do they consider someone else to be the leader? Yes, but he'd really rather not be the leader. Someone has to do it though

29. If you could choose a different faction for your Rook, which one would they have joined and why? He'd make a good Shadow Dragon.

30. What's your favorite thing about your Rook? He's resilient. He's been served a tragedy buffet and yet, still going. Plus, underneath the stony and or sad exterior he's a lovable person who will lavish his loved ones with affection. Even ones who would REALLY rather he didn't (Viago).

Rook Questionnaire

inspired by @cassieuncaged's BG3 Character Development Questions but for Rook instead!

1: Where in the Thedas is your Rook from?

2: What is your character's alignment?

3: Race and subclass?

4: If your Rook was a companion, where would they be found?

5: What emotion did they usually pick?

6: What companion are you platonically close with?

7: Romantically close with?

8: Who are they suspicious of?

9: Does your Rook get along with their chosen Faction?

10: Are they proficient in playing any instruments?

11: Weapon of choice?

12: What is their orientation?

13: What are their thoughts on killing? Is it a necessary evil or do they enjoy it?

14: What hobbies does your Rook have?

15: What NPCs do they like? Which one's do they dislike?

16: Do they have a favorite creature in the Thedas?

17: Do they enjoy life as an adventurer?

18: What would your Rook be doing if they weren't recruited by Varric?

19: How do you think they'll meet their end?

20: Would they side with Solas or fight him?

21: What is your Rook's favorite ability?

22: What languages is your character fluent in?

23: What do they do after an absolute crisis?

24: Does your character believe in the afterlife?

25: What specialization best represents your Rook?

26: What animal best represents your Rook?

27: What was their life like before the events of Veilguard?

28: Is your character the de facto leader of the party? Or do they consider someone else to be the leader?

29: If you could choose a different faction for your Rook, which one would they have joined and why?

30: What's your favorite thing about your Rook?

[reidrum]

hi lil headcanon: can’t stop thinking about how Spence sees the worst of humanity and lots of violence for his job so when he comes home to you he is extra gentle and savors your goodness and cherishes doing mundane things with you- tidying up and listening to his music, going on walking dates, holding you close literally always- he is extra protective of his beacon of peace and hope in humanity :,)

this is so post prison spencer coded

(i yapped again im so sorry)

following his release spencer reid would struggle to return to normalcy for some time after his whole life was turned upside down for months but the pockets of peace he creates with you he finds are essential to his well being.

your spencer reid wakes up early on the rare saturday mornings he has off making sure you’re still sleeping and sneaks off to the kitchen to make breakfast that will soon wake you up in a few hours with the wafting smell of waffles and coffee. he dons a ‘kiss the chef’ apron you ironically got for him that he unironically treasures deeply as he finishes plating the spread on the tray and bringing it back to the room.

maybe on saturday mornings you always go to the farmers market and you always buy a fresh bouquet of flowers because having them on sunday makes for a good omen for the coming week. and even on the saturdays spencer reid can’t be there you send pictures of the bouquet you picked out that day and it makes his heart so so happy. his favorite thing is when he tells you the significance of different flowers and they show up in the bunch the week after. if one day you don’t go to the farmers market or there just isn’t a bouquet in the house that day spencer reid absolutely cannot have that and so he goes out on his own curating the perfect bouquet of flowers because he’ll be damned if you don’t have your flowers!

i think he would also encourage you to ramble as much as he does because he loves hearing you talk, even if he knows nothing about it or it doesn’t make sense. like for someone who loves info dumping and telling people cool facts, spencer reid is much quieter around you because hearing you talk especially about things you love is so so special to him. he would trade his voice like ariel in the little mermaid if it meant he could hear you talk on and on about anything and everything for the rest of his life.

and like, because this is spencer reid there will be a time that something happens to you because of what he does (alexa play peace), kinda similar to matt and kristy when she’s held hostage at her work or derek and savannah when she gets shot. hotch has to physically keep him away from the scene because he’d be so close to losing it and risking everything by going solo but who can blame him when you, the other half of him that the prophecies say you’d spend your whole lives searching for but he was fortunate and grateful enough to find you so soon, could get hurt. he would harbor the same guilt hotch feels dating anyone after haley because after maeve spencer reid refuses to let anything take you away from him, but here he is putting you in a situation he caused because an unsub he put away has a grievance to settle.

and eventually you’re safe and back in the apartment with spencer reid and he’s just. in crisis mode. because he genuinely is not sure if he can handle something like that happening to you again. but he’s not even sure how to prevent that from ever happening. and he’s so proud of you for how brave you’re trying to be but it’s breaking his heart entirely to watch you do that for him, and he’s so sure he does not deserve your grace at all. so it’s not even a hard decision when he decides to increase his university teaching hours and step away from the bau just to be with you more.

because now you and spencer reid have more time to make flower bouquets at the farmers market every week. he’s bucket listed every museum up and down the eastern coast and fully intends on finishing it before the year ends. he carries a little trial size vial of your perfume in his satchel whenever he misses you a little too much, even when you’re just in the other room. spencer reid wants nothing more than to live a simple life with you, and after the world has dealt him too many bad cards, he’s more than grateful to get to hold these little moments of you close to mend his bruised heart.

[madebycloud]

Sweetener

jinx/powder x female reader — 𝐯𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐞'𝐬⠀𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

summary: matcha has always been too bitter for your taste, but your new coworker seems to love it, especially when she makes you taste it every single day. warnings/themes: fluff and angst, friends to lovers, coffee shop, mordern au, barista!jinx, barista!reader, jessica words: 18.5k notes: just 2 broke (tired, stubborn, idiot, proud) college students in a shitty city

Working as a barista, you're used to seeing all sorts of people.

Most times it's just a bunch of early morning adults rushing through with their quick coffee pickup before work or the mid-afternoon college students stopping by for their third/fourth cup of the day to fight off the dark circles under their eyes or the late night studiers trying to consume enough coffee to finish their all-nighters for the upcoming exams.

But you can't please everyone all the time. Some of the people are just downright arrogant.

“Whatever.” They wave their hand in the air, as though swatting away an annoying fly. “Anyway, I need a matcha latte.”

You try to keep the grimace off your face. Not only does matcha taste like grass, matcha is expensive as hell. And it's always the stuck-up pricks that ask for matcha lattes.

“Yes, anything else?”

They look you up and down with a scoff. “Did I stutter? yes, that'll be all.”

You grit your teeth, trying to keep from throttling the prick then and there. It's not only just unprofessional, but you'd probably lose your job. And you need this job. You type their order, being careful not to say something rude.

“Great,” they say as they pull out a credit card.

You ring the total up and hand the card back, watching as they slide it back into their wallet.

“And you better get it right this time, it was too hot last time,” you hear them say before taking a seat at a nearby table.

Too hot. The last time you made it for them, you were careful to keep it at the right temperature—but apparently, even that wasn't good enough for that uptight person over there.

You grumble to yourself as you get to work making the matcha latte. 

Carefully getting the perfect blend of matcha powder and water. Steaming the milk to the perfect temperature, ensuring it isn't too hot for the entitled prick, but also not too cold.

You grumble again, knowing full well the tip they're going to leave you won't be anything more than fifty cents or nothing at all.

You look at the clock. Only four hours left of this shift. Only four hours.

—

“You alright?” 

You glance up from shoving your apron into a locker as Jayce, the cafe owner, walks over.

Is it that obvious you're not doing so well? You shrug. “I'm fine. Just glad it's quitting time, y'know?”

You're really not fine. This day was just awful. Between classes, this shift, and the never ending classwork load, you're ready to collapse from exhaustion. But you don't want to bother Jayce with your problems. The guy's already got enough on his plate running this café.

When you shut the locker, you catch Jayce eyeing you with concern, but he doesn't push further.

“Speaking of,” he starts, changing the topic. “You'll be getting a new co-worker tomorrow. Maddie's moved to another city.” He leans against a wall, crossing his arms. “Can you show them the ropes? I won't be here tomorrow.”

You give him a weary smile. “Can do.” Sure, training's easy, and showing them how to make coffee and deal with difficult customers isn't that hard. But what if they suck? What if they're lazy? What if they're incompetent?

You sigh, knowing that you're getting ahead of yourself. It's all conjecture right now. For all you know, this new co-worker could be great.

Jayce seems to notice your exhaustion, and he smiles reassuringly. “Get some rest.”

Right… rest. How the hell are you supposed to rest when you still have three classes to stress about, a mountain of classwork, and a new person to train at a job tomorrow?

“Maybe I should,” you reply lazily. You're not sure if you'll be able to get rest with the load of classwork waiting for you in your apartment, but at this point, you feel too exhausted to care. You grab your backpack and sling it over your shoulders, giving a tired wave. “See you.”

He waves back. “Have a good night.”

You exit the cafe, a chill wind hitting your face as you step out onto the sidewalk.

Tomorrow is going to suck.

Tomorrow is waking up at the ass crack of dawn, half dead, and dragging yourself to several classes.

Tomorrow is getting bitched out by entitled pricks who need their overcomplicated, overpriced caffeinated crap just to feel awake.

Tomorrow is the same old bullshit.

You're already dreading tomorrow.

—

Weekends. The two days of respite from the hellhole of college—at least, it's supposed to be. When you arrive at the cafe on a Saturday morning, the sun is just beginning to rise as you park your bike nearby and make your way inside.

You step through the door and are greeted by Jayce, standing by the counter. And next to him is a blue-haired girl. Must be the newbie.

“Morning,” you greet Jayce with a tired yawn. You set your belongings in the locker before walking over to the counter.

“Morning,” Jayce greets back with a smile, nodding towards the girl. “This is Jinx, the new barista I mentioned,” he tells you, confirming your suspicions.

“Jinx,” you repeat, looking her up and down.

Blue hair with two braids, and a chin-length swoop of hair on the right side of her face. She's probably around your age. Despite the early hour, she looks far too cheerful and energetic.

Jinx's eyes lands on you, and she smiles broadly. “That's me,” she chirps.

You introduce yourself, and Jayce nods in approval. “I've gotta go,” he says, putting on his coat. “I trust you can take it from here.” He pats you on the back as he walks past. “See you later.” And with that, he's out the door.

You turn back to Jinx, noticing her eyes wandering around the café. “So, uh,” you start awkwardly, “have you worked in a café before?”

Jinx snaps her attention to you. “Nope.”

“Okay… that's not a big deal,” you assure her. “I'll just walk you through everything.”

She nods, and you begin the training.

You start by showing her the basics. Operating the coffee machines—which are pretty damn fancy and confusing at first. Explaining the menu, the prices, and the specials of the day. You tell her about the regulars and the usual customers, and she seems to listen closely. 

After the basics, you get to the actual coffee-making. You start with a simple latte. You demonstrate the process, showing her how to prepare the espresso and steam the milk. She watches closely and even tries to mimic your steps.

Her first attempt is... messy. The espresso is weak, and the milk isn't steamed right. You point out her mistakes and try to guide her through the process again. She tries again… and again, it looks like a mess.

“Here—watch.” You adjust her grip on the pitcher. “You're holding it wrong. Try pouring again.”

She nods and tries once more, this time managing to make a decent pour.

“Not bad,” you praise. “Keep that up and you'll be good in no time.”

Jinx grins, but then her gaze falls to her hands. “Not so sure about that.”

You follow her gaze and spot the multiple band aid wrapped around her fingers. Her band aids seem to almost be covering every single finger. It's a little weird that her bandages cover her fingers of all things.

But you don't pry.

She sets the pitcher down, and you turn to glance at the clock on the wall. The clock reads 7:36 AM. It's still early, but the cafe opens at 8 AM.

“Hey,” you begin, “I was thinking…” You motion at the clock. “We still have time before opening. Wanna try making something different?”

She nods eagerly. “Yeah. Sure. Why not?”

“Alright.” You walk over to the cupboard. “What would you like to make?”

“Hmm, something... fun,” she hums, fingers tapping on the counter. “Like... matcha?” She shrugs. “It's my favorite.”

Matcha. That disgusting green tea powder that all these rich assholes seem to worship. And if you hear one more person saying it tastes rich or some other dumb bullshit...

You hate matcha. But if Jinx's favorite drink is matcha, then fine.

You shove down your own disdain for the drink and give her a strained smile. “You like matcha?”

“Yeah. It's delicious!” She's much more energetic than you've ever been.

You open the cupboard and sift through the supply drawers, pulling out the ingredients for a matcha latte. Jinx's eyes lock onto the ingredients that you place on the counter.  “Why do you love matcha so much?” you ask.

“Uh, it tastes good! Matcha cake, matcha ice cream, matcha mochi, matcha tea... Oh! Matcha pudding is really good too.”

She seems very enthusiastic about the drink. So much so that you wonder if she's done an advertisement for it before.

“You know,” you start, measuring out the matcha and starting the water to boil in the kettle. “For someone who seems like they'd be more into sweet and sugary things... you like some stuff like matcha.”

“Eh, I also like sweet stuff, but I like matcha better.” Makes sense. Some people just like different tastes.

The water boils, and you spoon the powdered green tea into a cup and add the steaming water. You stir the matcha in the cup with a whisk. “You've probably had tons of matcha drinks in cafes before, huh?”

You turn to grab a frothing pitcher from the counter, but the bluenette has already snatched it and started foaming the milk, her fingers gripping the handle.

“Yeah, I have. But I've never tried making it myself.”

“Never tried making one yourself?” you repeat, watching her steam the milk.

She shakes her head. “Nope. I've had a lot of matcha drinks in cafes, but I've never made one myself.”

You finish stirring the matcha in the cup. “Well, at least you haven't broken anything yet. That's a good start.”

She stops frothing the milk, glancing at you. “You mean that? you're not joking?”

“I'm just being honest.”

She hesitantly nods, taking your answer. “If you say so…” 

She pours the frothed milk into the cup along with the matcha, and you add the finishing touches before giving it to her. 

Jinx grabs the cup and looks down at the drink. “It looks good.”

“Well, take a sip.” You watch her expectantly. You expect her to spit it out, complain...

But she doesn’t. She swallows the liquid and sets the cup down. “I didn't know making matcha was so easy,” she muses, staring down at the frothy green drink.

“It's not so complicated. Just some boiled water and milk.”

She takes another sip. “So... I could make matcha myself?”

“Yup. If you know how, it's pretty simple.”

“I never knew it was this easy.... I've been buying matcha this whole time-”

Then, the bell chimes, interrupting your conversation. The first customer of the day walks in.

“Ahh…” you mutter, turning toward your new co-worker, who is still sipping on her matcha latte. “You ready?”

She sets the cup down. “I guess.”

“Just follow my lead and try to keep up,” you tell her, “it should be an easy morning.”

She smiles, adjusting her apron. “Easy as pie.”

—

The first day of work for Jinx was... well, interesting, to put it mildly.

She made a few mistakes—like over-foaming a latte, accidentally giving a customer way too much sugar in their coffee, and almost setting fire to the coffee machine… but it could have been worse.

Some of the customers were patient, kind, and understanding. Others... not so much.

One customer complained that their coffee had too much cream and was way too sweet. Another complained their frappe was melting despite ordering it without ice. Then there was the customer who ordered a ‘coffee flavored coffee’, whatever that means.  And the guy who wanted an Americano with no coffee.

By the end of the day, Jinx looked like a mess, and her apron was covered in coffee stains. You and her both shared a look of exhaustion.

“I had no idea customers could be so…” she trails off, her head in her hands on the counter.

“Frustrating?”

“More like…” she ponders some more.

“Inconsiderate?” you suggest jokingly.

“No, that's too nice.”

“How about…” you pause, mulling over some choice words. “Just plain dumb?”

“Dumb, stupid, idiotic, moronic, blockheaded, imbecilic-” she continues, listing off synonyms.

“You're going to run out of adjectives.”

“I've got plenty.” She lifts her head up, drumming her fingers on the counter. “You have no idea how many words you can use to describe an idiot. I could go on for hours.”

“I'm sure you could, but-”

“Like numbskull! Dolt. Imbecile. Nitwit. Dimwit. Dunce. Jackass. Cretin-”

“-Alright, that's enough,” you cut her off before she can start listing the entire dictionary. “I get it.”

She laughs and pushes back her bangs. “I was sooo tempted to dump a whole pot of coffee in a customer's face.”

“You shouldn't be pouring coffee on people, no matter how annoying they are.”

“But just imagine the look on their face when a steaming cup of hot coffee hits them-”

“That's assault.”

“It's self defense if… I'm defending my sanity,” Jinx counters.

“You can't just dump coffee on every annoying customer.”

“Says who?”

“Says the law,” you remind her, “...and Jayce.”

She sighs, flopping onto the counter. “I can't believe people can be this annoying. Like, how hard is it to just be nice to the people who serve you coffee?”

“Eh, well, it's too hard for some people. It's like they wake up in the morning and think… ‘Hmm, I'm going to be a massive jerk to someone working their minimum wage job today.’ And smetimes you just get those customers that you wish…” You gesture with your arm as if to mimic strangling them.

Jinx sits up, mimicking the motion with her own arms. “Or- or… you can poison their drink! Like, just a little bit. Just enough to make them a bit... sick and queasy. Or make it taste gross so they never come back, and they tell all their friends not to come back, and the cafe suddenly gets no business, and we get laid off-” She suddenly stops herself, realizing what she's saying. “I'm not making sense, am I?”

You snort. “Can you imagine the cafe being empty?”

“Mhmm! we could play our own music. Reorganize things. Drink as much coffee as we want,” she says, dropping her arms back to the counter. 

“No stupid customers. No stupid complaints. It sounds like a dream.”

She leans forward, propping her chin on her hand. “It does, doesn't it?”

Just as both of you start fantasizing about the dream of an empty café, the sound of the bell above the door rings, signaling the entrance of a new customer.

You look up, assuming it's just another customer ready to order their coffee and then complain about it. But the sight of Jayce walking through the door immediately caught your attention.

“Oh, hey, boss,” Jinx greets.

Jayce approaches the counter, his eyes scanning over the cafe. “Evening, how's the first day?” he asks Jinx.

“Just great,” she replies.

Jayce glances at the coffee stain on her apron, the corner of his lip twitching upwards, but he doesn't comment on it. “And how's the training been?” He turns towards you, raising an eyebrow.

You shrug, trying to play it cool. “She's done well-”

“Except for spilling the drinks, the coffee machine almost exploded, accidentally giving customers the wrong orders-” Jinx pipes up, counting on her fingers, “-and me almost assaulting a customer.”

“She's still learning,” you quickly add, “but she's catching on pretty quick.”

Jayce purses his lips, studying Jinx for a moment before returning his eyes to you. “She almost assaulted a customer?”

“Uh, no, it didn't happen. She was just... venting out some frustration.”

“It was close,” Jinx mutters.

You clear your throat and give her a subtle glare, silently telling her to shut up before she makes it worse, which she luckily gets the hint.

Jayce hums and glances down at the watch on his wrist before looking back up. “Right, you two can head home now. I'll take over closing the shop.”

You and Jinx exchanged confused looks. “You sure? we can help.”

He waves a hand dismissively. “No, no, it's fine. You've both had a long day. Go on, get going.”

You raise an eyebrow, a little suspicious, but you decide not to question it for now. You turn to Jinx. “Come on, let's get our stuff.”

She immediately stands up from her seat. “Holy shit, I'm dying to get out of this apron.”

—

You wave goodbye to Jayce as you both leave the cafe, heading straight for your parked bike, and climb onto it.

You notice that Jinx is walking a few feet away from you. “You need a ride or something?” you call out.

She turns around, looking at you with a smirk. “Why, are you offering?”

“Unless you want to walk-”

“I'll take that ride.” She walks over, stopping right next to where you're seated on the bike.

“Hop on, then.”

She glances at the back seat, hesitant. You notice that she doesn't have any sort of vehicle either. She bites her lip, contemplating it for a moment, before carefully climbing on the bike.

You feel the bike sag a bit underneath her weight, but it thankfully holds. 

She awkwardly sits behind you, her arms wrapping around your waist and her legs tucked beside your thighs. “You know how to ride this thing fast, right?” she asks.

“Of course, I do. I just like being careful.” You kick off the ground and begin to pedal, leaving the café behind.

“Boooring. Just gun it. I wanna feel the wind in my hair.”

“If I crash this thing, it's your fault,” you joke, picking up speed on the deserted sidewalk. “Where are you headed anyway?”

Her grip tightens around your waist, the wind blowing through her hair. “The subway.”

“The subway?” you ask, turning the bike towards the direction of the nearest subway station. “You live across the city?”

“Yeah, I live in a shitty area. Easier to use public transit.”

The entire city is shitty. “Why'd you get a job at a cafe so far from where you live, then?” You're genuinely curious.

“Not many other places are willing to hire me.”

“Why?”

She scoffs. “Too crazy. I had a job last summer at a local convenience store.”

“What, did you steal from the cash register or something?”

“Me? Hell no. You think I'd do something that obvious?”

You glance backward with a raised eyebrow.

“Alright, fine. I might have tried to steal some drinks and candy a couple of times. But! my boss was a scumbag who stole money from charity donations. He deserved it,” she explains defensively.

“I'm sure he did,” you reply, trying not to laugh at her defense. After all, she didn't need to justify stealing from a scumbag. Not that a few stolen chocolates really matter in this shithole of a city.

You continue down the sidewalk, making a left turn at a stoplight. Cars honk at you, but neither of you gives them so much as a glance of acknowledgment.

“Besides, those things are way too overpriced anyway,” she continues. “Everything in that damn store was overpriced.”

The subway station is now in view just a few blocks away.

“What happened?” you ask. “You get fired or quit?”

“Both. They fired me, and then I quit.”

“How exactly do you quit after getting fired?”

She laughs a little. “I walked back the next day and quit myself.”

That makes sense... somehow. “But, back to my question, why work so far?”

“Er, I didn't have a choice. Jayce was about the only one that would hire me.”

So it was out of desperation. You could understand that. Everyone had to do what they had to do to survive in this city.

You slow your bike to a stop, parking it outside the entrance to the subway station. You put the kickstand down and hop off the bike. “How long does it take to get to your place?”

“Like... maybe forty-five minutes? sometimes two hours,” she says, getting off the bike and stretching her arms above her head. “It's not that bad. There's usually an old guy who plays really shitty polka music on the accordion to keep me entertained.”

“Sounds lovely,” you reply sarcastically. “Shitty music and a shitty city.”

She hums, looking around. “So... I'll see you tomorrow?”

Despite the shitty city, the shitty job, you find yourself slightly looking forward to seeing her tomorrow. “Yeah, tomorrow,” you reply.

She turns and begins walking towards the stairs that descend into the depths of the subway station, before stopping and turning back around to face you.

“Hey-” she begins, stopping you. “Thanks for the ride, and... you're not so bad. For a coworker.”

You can't resist a smile. “You aren't so bad either.”

Jinx scoffs. “Pft, I don't know. Some people might disagree.” She pauses, studying your face for a moment. “See you, partner.”

She gives you one last grin before bounding down the stairs. You watch her disappear into the depths of the subway station.

You stare at the empty place where she once was, then turn away and get back on your bike, beginning to pedal away.

—

You enter the café, eyes still heavy from lack of sleep as you drag yourself through the door, only to be nearly deafened by the sound of loud music blasting from the speakers.

…this isn't the usual song that Jayce plays on the speakers. It's not soft rock, nor is it jazz, or any of those ‘old people’ types of music that he usually has on.

It sounds like... is that heavy metal?  Not just any kind of heavy metal, but the really fast-paced, hyper, head-banging kind.

You step inside and spot Jinx, who is currently in the middle of aggressively sweeping the floor.

Within three seconds of seeing you, the bluenette immediately abandons her task of sweeping, bounds over to the counter, grabs a cup, and holds it out to you.

“Mornin' partner!” she greets, a smirk on her face.

Confused, but too tired to question her, you cautiously take the cup from her. “Uhh... morning.” You nod, looking down at the cup. “Thanks.” You take a small, tentative sip.

Matcha. You almost want to spit it out. But you swallow it anyway. After all, it'd be rude to spit out something someone went out of the way to make for you.

The liquid hits your tongue, and it's… different?

Different from how you make it. It's sweet, too sweet. But oddly, despite its different taste... it's actually kind of good. Good enough to make your morning slightly more bearable.

You set the cup down on the counter, trying to hide how oddly satisfied you feel.

“So?” Jinx asks eagerly, “What do you think?”

“It's... “ Good. The word almost slips out, but you stop yourself, instead clearing your throat and going for a more neutral answer. “Different.”

“Different good or different bad?” she prompts.

“Different... fine,” you say, lifting the cup back to your lips and taking another sip.

That isn't necessarily a lie, right? just because something is different doesn't mean it's good or bad. It's like a math equation, neutral on both sides.

“What's with all the-” you gesture around, “loud music?” you ask, changing the topic.

“Oh, that?” She jabs a thumb behind her towards the speaker. “I was bored out of my mind before you got here, so I changed the music.”

The loud blast of drums and guitar fills the café.

“You like it?” she asks.

It's not... bad. Just different. “I don't know if like it is the right term.”

“Mhmm, but it's good for the morning. Helps wake you up, you know?”

You look back at the cup. The taste is still weird, but the flavor is oddly growing on you. “Yeah, I guess so.”

—

For the next few weeks, every day was the same. Every shift, you stumbled into the café, half-asleep and barely alive, and Jinx would greet you with a cup of matcha latte. She doesn't bother asking if you want one, simply places down your drink and starts her own work in the café.

It's still a drink that normally makes you grimace, but... the way she makes it... she makes it different.

It doesn't make your facial muscles twitch anymore. It just tastes better. It's odd, the way that the drink has changed you. The once bitter, almost disgusting taste that you used to dread is now...

Less bitter and somehow not so awful.

You're actually able to drink it without cringing. And you don't know if that should worry you or not.

Though, there's still one burning question on your mind.

“Why do you keep making this?” you ask her one day.

“Hmm?” She glances up from the coffee machine.

“This.” You gesture to the cup in hand. “You always make me matcha lattes.”

She sets her rag down on the counter and leans against it, resting her chin on her hand. “And why are you asking?”

“I don't know, it's just-” you pause. Why are you asking? It's just a cup of matcha. Who cares? “Just wondering,” you answer, shrugging.

“Is my matcha that bad?”

“It's not that,” you assure her, shaking your head.

“Then what?” she pries. Why do you care?

You shift a bit on your feet, uncomfortable at her question.

Because, it makes you enjoy something that you originally hated. But you don't say that.

“Never mind,” you mutter, shaking your head again and taking a sip.

She just hums and goes back to her task.

From that point on, you never ask the question again. And she continues making the matcha lattes every shift.

—

You stand on the subway train, gripping the pole to maintain balance. 

The train is too crowded to find a seat, so you're forced to just stand. It's a little uncomfortable, but not the worst thing you've experienced.  You're used to these long commutes. Normally, you would be riding your bike all the way to your campus, but your bike decided to betray you this day, and your tire popped.

You still haven't gotten it fixed. You didn't exactly have the money to fix it yet. Which meant you had to rely on public transport, and getting up earlier. You usually listen to music or daydream to pass the time. But today, no music, and your brain is too tired to think.

So you just stand there, staring vaguely at the people crowding around you. They're all strangers. Most of them are wearing business suits, heading to work. Some of them are students, like you, bags slung over their shoulders, looking equally tired.

A particularly loud sound of rattling metal rings in your ears, and you grimace. The subway system is old, outdated, and in need of repair. But it's still better than the old monorail they used a few years back.

You're snapped out of your thoughts as the train jolts to a stop. The doors open with an ear-piercing screech. A group of people file off as a few others get on. You barely pay attention.

You focus on the ground, listening to the rhythmic tcha tcha of the wheels on the track.

Just as your thoughts begin to lull, you're suddenly shaken from your tired trance by the feeling of another hand gripping the pole you're holding.

You lift your gaze and... Jinx?

She stands right across from you, one hand gripping the pole and the other clutching a backpack slung over her shoulder.

“Oh, hey,” she greets, shifting her grip on the pole as the train begins moving again. “What are you doing here?”

“My bike broke,” you mutter. “Flat tire.”

“Ah, that suuuuuucks,” she sympathizes, wincing. “You gonna get it fixed?”

“When I have the time,” you reply, shifting your own grip on the pole. “Or the money,” you add, grimacing as a particularly loud grinding sound rings in your ears.

You keep a decent distance between your body and Jinx, and your hands don't touch. But she stands close enough that you can see the details of her face.

She is surprisingly freckled. They're not visible unless you look closely, but she has a small smattering of brown spots on the bridge of her nose and across her cheeks. Also, she's wearing makeup. The eyeliner and dark eyeshadow are expected, but she's also wearing something purple-glistened on her lips. It almost looks like-

Her tongue darts out, licking the lip gloss off.

You look at her eyes, and she's looking directly at you. You notice her eyes flitting between your own. You're not sure if she's doing it on purpose or if the staring is some strange coincidence.

“Cars are so damn expensive,” she says, shifting her gaze at the floor. “I wish I had enough money to buy a motorcycle.”

“You drive?” 

“I mean, no,” she replies, her gaze lifting again. “But if I had a motorcycle, I could finally ditch public transport.”

“You don't like the subway?”

She gives you a look, gesturing around to the crowded subway train. “Does anyone like it?”

You concede. Good point.

She studies you for a moment, eyes drifting over your bag. “Where are you headed?”

“University. You?”

“Same.”

The train jostles, and you both shift the grip on the pole again. Your hands brush against each other, her hand just above yours.

“Which university?” you ask.

“The Academy,” she answers. “Engineering.”

“That's... an expensive university.” 

“Yeah, it is,” she agrees, adjusting her grip again, her hand almost touching yours. “Full ride scholarship.”

“Damn, really? that's pretty impressive.”

Something in her mouth twitches in distaste, but she swallows it down, nodding her head with a smirk. “Thanks.”

Her gaze moves across your body, then settles on your hand on the pole. She stares at it for too long before looking away.

“Engineering, huh? you a genius or something?”

“Or something,” she says.

The train lurches again, and her fingers touch yours.

She doesn't move away. You don't move away either. Every slight motion causes her fingers to brush your knuckles or your fingertips.

The train continues moving and the silence stretches on. 

Jinx's eyes are everywhere. It's roaming around the train. But it's also flickering back to you. Then it's roaming again. Then it flicks to your hand.

Then, you catch her staring at your lips. “Nice lips,” she suddenly says.

“What?”

“What?” she repeats.

Who compliments someone on their lips? “You just suddenly said I have a nice lips,” you respond.

She looks away, face turning pink. “Uh, I dunno. I think you have a nice lips.”

Another jolt of the train. Her head whips back to look you in the eye. She still does not move her hand.

“You have nice eyes.” You're not sure what possesses you to say that. It just popped out of your brain and into your mouth.

She narrows her eyes at you and snorts. “You think so?” Her thumb brushes against the back of your hand.

“Yeah,” you say, ignoring the shiver that runs down your back at the touch. “Pretty.”

Pretty? Is that the only word you can think of? The word feels insufficient to describe her eyes. Beautiful, gorgeous, striking. Instead, you just say pretty. Idiot.

Her nose is scrunched up, but it does little to hide the redness of her cheeks.

You keep staring at her eyes. And she stares back. Her eyes flick down again to your lips. She wets her own lips. Her thumb rubs the back of your hand, moving in circles.

The train slows and comes to a stop.

“My stop,” you mutter, dropping your hand and straightening up. “I'll see you later at the cafe?”

“Uuhhh, later,” Jinx responds. “And…”

You raise your eyebrow, waiting for her to finish the sentence. But she doesn't. She just looks at you, face turning pink again. “And...?” you press.

She looks away from you. “Nothing. See you later, partner.”

“Later,” you repeat, then push your way out of the crowded train, feeling her stare follow you.

The sound of the train doors shutting makes you look back.

Jinx is still standing in the same place, watching you leave. Her hand is still on the pole, and she's smiling, her cheeks are still pink. But when she sees you looking, that smile fades, and she quickly averts her gaze.

Then the train pulls away, and she disappears from your view. You're left staring at an empty railway, feeling strangely warm.

The ride to your university passes without much thought. For some reason, your brain is too exhausted to focus on anything but the feeling of Jinx's hand on yours.

And even after you arrive at class, you're still preoccupied with thoughts of Jinx.

No, not preoccupied. More like... preoccupied-adjacent. There is nothing to be preoccupied with.

You just got off the subway with your coworker. Just a normal subway ride. There are hundreds of people every day in the subway. People brush against each other all the time.

Nothing strange about that.

But you can't stop thinking about the weight of her hand on yours. Or the brush of her touch. Or the pinkness of her cheeks. Or the freckles on her nose. Or the lip gloss on her mouth. Or her eyes.

...

Okay, fine, you're preoccupied. 

—

The cafe is blissfully empty. You take a quick glance around. Only a few customers are sitting at their tables, quietly working on an assignment or studying for their own midterms.

As usual, a cup of matcha latte is pushed into your hands. It's the same old drink, but this time, it's over ice instead of steaming hot.

“New recipe?” you ask, looking at Jinx, who is brewing coffee.

“Trying something new,” she calls back, focusing on the coffee machine in front of her. “You like it?”

You stare at the ice floating around the top of the drink, then take another sip. “It's fine.”

It's more than fine. It's good. The ice makes it a hell of a lot more refreshing.

Jinx glances at you over her shoulder. “Just fine, huh?” she responds, raising her eyebrow at you.

“Yes,” you answer. “Fine.” Delicious

She goes back to messing with the coffee machine, leaving you to stare at the back of her head.

You continue sipping on the latte, savoring the cool drink. It's an improvement over the usual steaming hot drink. The ice makes the flavors blend differently than it usually does, and it's much more tolerable than the hot version.

Delicious. The word echoes in your brain again, but you ignore it, staring into your cup.

Then your eyes wander towards Jinx's position behind the counter.

Her hair tied up in two braids as she fiddles with the coffee machine. Sometimes, her hair will escape the confinement of the hair ties, and it will dangle about her face. She pauses to pull back a strand of loose hair, tucking it behind her ear. Her attention doesn't deviate from her task, not noticing your gaze following her movements.

Your gaze drifts back to your cup. It's getting low. A few ice cubes remain, still bobbing in the liquid.

You take another sip of the latte.

Just fine. Not delicious.

Maybe it's a bit delicious. A little delicious. Delicious is such a funny word. An odd word. Is it possible to be half-delicious?

You lick your lips, tasting the remains of the ice-cold matcha latte, and glance back at Jinx.

Damn it. Delicious.

—

A month has passed, and you can tell Jinx has improved. Maybe even... good?

Good enough that she's stopped yelling, stopped breaking, stopped accidentally pouring coffee on the customer's shirt. Good enough that the customer is now enjoying their coffee instead of screaming at her. Even Jayce seems pleased, no longer concerned that Jinx would set the coffee machine on fire.

You set a cup down and look over at Jinx, who is standing by the coffee machine. She's working on latte art and actually managing to do a good job.

You watch as she pulls the milk wand away from the foam, leaving behind a decent… is that a heart?

It's just a simple heart, nothing extravagant, but definitely better than all the blobs she'd been trying to pass as latte art weeks ago.

“Not bad,” you comment.

Jinx jumps, nearly causing the matcha to spill over the rim. “Holy fuck,” she hisses. “Warn me next time you sneak up on me like that.”

“I didn't sneak up on you,” you reply, raising an eyebrow. “I was standing next to you the entire time.”

“And you still managed to startle me.”

“I did it on purpose,” you answer, smirking. “Just to see you jump.”

She flips you off and turns her attention back to the drink in front of her. “Ass.”

You grab a rag and clean the countertop. “A heart, huh? Trying to impress someone?”

She shrugs. “Maybe I am.”

You lean against the counter, watching her work on the drink. “Who's this lucky person?”

She hums without taking her eyes off the drink. “None of your business.”

“So there is someone?”

She glances at you out of the corner of her eye, and then she shrugs. “Maybe.”

There is absolutely someone. “Is it someone I know?” you press on, curious.

“Yes.”

You're not sure how to feel about that. On one hand... well, you're curious about who the hell this person is. On the other hand... you feel... jealous?

No, not jealous. More like... annoyed. Yeah… Annoyed.

Your hands grip the rag tighter. “Is it someone I know well?” 

She pauses, her gaze flickering to you for a moment, before looking back at the drink. “Yes.”

Annoyance continues to simmer inside… strange. 

Why does this annoying feeling keep poking and buzzing at your brain? maybe because you had someone in mind? someone who you wish she was talking about? or maybe it was just curiosity getting the better of you.

You try to shrug off the annoyance, continuing to clean the countertop.

“What do you think?” she asks, staring at the matcha latte art.

“I already told you it doesn't look bad,” you reply, still scrubbing at the counter. “You're getting better.”

“I'm always getting better,” she says, “You can taste it if you want.” She turns the drink towards you, holding it out.

You reach over and take the cup from her, your hands brushing against hers. She looks down to look at your fingers for a moment before returning to your face.

You bring the cup up to your lips and take a sip. The moment the liquid touches your tongue, it's as if all the annoyance evaporates. The drink she makes is always delicious. You manage to swallow before the noise threatens to escape from your throat. “Thanks,” you say, lowering the cup.

She just hums, staring at your lips. “You've got…” she begins, pausing to reach out.

She uses her thumb to gently brush away the remaining foam on your upper lip. Her touch is warm and soft, and you instinctively lean into the touch. Her lips are parted a bit, and you can see her teeth slightly biting into the bottom lip. 

“Foam,” she finishes, pulling back her hand. “All gone.” She wipes her finger on her apron.

You can't explain the heat that crawls up your neck. “Thanks.”

She smiles a little, a strangely satisfied gleam in her eyes. “...no problem.”

She continues to stare at you, studying your face. You're not sure why you're so stuck on just staring at each other without talking, but it's like neither of you has anything to say.

It's almost awkward. But not exactly. Awkward would require you to be uncomfortable.

You're not uncomfortable with her eyes on you. It's kind of… comfortable. Like some kind of strange comfort. The kind you get after spending too much time around someone. And you've been around Jinx a lot these past few weeks.

Jinx is the first to break the eye contact by looking away. She clears her throat, staring at the coffee machine next to her. “I'm gonna... make some more coffee…” she mumbles.

And then she just turns and walks away.

You're left standing there, clutching the cup of matcha latte in your hands and staring at the back of Jinx's head as she begins brewing more coffee in the machine.

You're struck with the oddest of desires. You want to go over there, stand next to her, and stare at her face. You want...

You quickly stop yourself.

Why in the hell are you thinking like this? It's a ridiculous thought, that's what it is. You just need some sleep. All this damn thinking isn't going to help anything.

For the rest of your shift, you do your best to avoid looking at Jinx. Unfortunately, you keep finding yourself looking at her anyway.

—

“Are you gonna help me out, or you're gonna stare at your phone the whole time?” Jinx calls out, breaking your concentration.

You look up from the screen of your phone, then realize you've been scrolling aimlessly for the past ten minutes.

“Ohhh… yeahhhh right.” You set the phone on the counter next to hers. “Sorry,” you apologize, beginning to help her with the remaining closing tasks.

The café closing hours are always calm and relaxing. Usually, Jayce is there helping, chatting to you and Jinx. But tonight, Jayce is out doing something important, leaving just you and Jinx to close the café.

This isn't the first time. The two of you have closed the cafe together on several occasions.

You grab a towel and begin wiping down the tables and chairs, making sure to leave the café spotless for tomorrow. Jinx sweeps around the floor, humming something as she works.

When you're both finished cleaning, you and Jinx move to the last step of closing.

You start by putting up the chairs on the tables, stacking them neatly around so they don't collect any dust overnight. Jinx helps as well, putting up her share of chairs, then begins straightening up the chairs as you finish with yours.

Soon, all the chairs are organized on top of the tables, and the café is as tidy as a mouse's ass.

You walk over behind the counter and grab the boxes full of new cups from a low shelf. “Can you help me with this?” you ask, lifting the box and nodding at the other one.

She comes over and helps you, carrying it into the storage room. You trail after her, watching her as she places the box gently on top of the other boxes.

The storage room is a small room connected to the cafe, used to store supplies. The walls, made of concrete, are painted yellow. Inside, the room is tidy, neat, and somewhat small. The floor and walls are covered with several industrial metal racks, stacked with boxes of supplies. A single light bulb hangs from the center of the ceiling, illuminating the room.

You pause and set your box down as well, glancing at her as she dusts off her hands. “I swear, Jayce is way too paranoid about restocking,” she says, glancing around.

You nod. “He's definitely got a bit of a hoarding problem.”

“He'll probably start to fill up the back next.”

“And then he's gonna fill the manager's office.”

“And the bathroom.” She snickers, looking over the boxes. “I swear to god, he needs a damn therapist for this obsession.”

You share a laugh and turn towards the door, Jinx following behind you.

“Well, guess everything is in order-” you start to say, but pause when you turn the doorknob and find that it's locked. You frown and try pulling the knob again, harder this time. It still doesn't budge.

“What the hell?” Jinx comes up beside you and grabs the knob, rattling it a few times. She stops after a few seconds and tries again, but still no luck. “Fuck!” she exclaims, tugging the knob. “Why won't this stupid thing open?!”

“It's damn well jammed.” You kick the door, which does absolutely nothing.

“That's... not good,” Jinx mutters. “I guess this is one of the cons of having a paranoid boss.”

There are no windows into this room, and Jayce won't be back until tomorrow. The only way out is through the door, and it's clearly not budging.

“Looks like we're trapped,” you deadpan.

She swears again, staring at the door. “Of-fucking-course.”

“Guess we're stuck here until tomorrow.”

She grunts. “Great, just great. What are we going to do—wait, do you have your phone?”

“I do, but…” You search your pockets, realization dawning. “I think I left it on the counter.”

She pats her pockets too, and her face falls. “Ugh, same.”

There's a beat of silence as you both process this new information… you're screwed.

Jinx slides down the wall until she's sitting on the cold concrete. Her eyes glance at the other boxes, then back to you. “Are you just going to stand there?”

You sigh and slowly lower yourself next to her. “Guess not.”

“This sucks,” she grumbles, pulling her knees up to her chest.

You look at the storage room around you. There's not much in the storage room. It's all supplies—cups, espresso beans, various syrups, milk-

Oh, milk.

“At least we have food,” you say, pointing at the several cartons of milk stacked on one shelf.

Jinx glances at the milk and scoffs. “Yeah, if we plan on having heart disease. We'll be dead before anyone remembers we're locked in here.”

“Can't you just be a tad... optimistic?” you mutter. “Like you usually are?”

“I'm only optimistic when I'm caffeinated. Now I'm tired and miserable.”

The two of you go back to sitting in silence.

You take a quick glance around the storage room again, noting how bare it is. It's cold in here. No carpet or insulation. Just two people, three days' worth of food, and an uncomfortable concrete floor.

Jinx looks up at the ceiling, probably wondering if this is how her life ends.

“Stop sulking,” you say.

“I'm not sulking.”

“Yes, you are. You can stop being gloom and doom now, it's not that bad.”

“Oh yeah? it's not that bad? we're literally stuck in an empty storage room with nothing to do. Not to mention this floor is cold and uncomfortable-”

“Then sit closer. It'll be warmer,” you interrupt her rant. The moment the words escape your mouth, you realize how it could be interpreted.

You clear your throat awkwardly. No, it's not that bad. It's not... intimate or anything. You're not, y'know, trying to be close. It's just practical. Yes. Practical.

Her gaze flicks to the ground between you, and she shuffles closer, sighing. You watch silently as she scoots over, closer and closer, until your shoulders are touching.

Neither of you speaks for a few moments, both of you focusing on the door in front of you.

“Do you think ghosts are real?” she asks suddenly.

You turn your head to look at her. “Yeah, I think there's someone watching us in that corner.”

“Fuck you.”

“No, really.” You gesture to the darkest corner. “I think I just saw something move.”

She turns her head, staring at the far corner of the storage room. “Really?”

“Yep.”

Both of you stare at the corner for a few seconds. Nothing happens. The corner is completely still. Not a single speck of dust is moving.

She huffs and turns to glare at you. “I hate you.”

You huff in return. “The hell did I do?”

“You're trying to scare me.”

“Maybe I am.”

“If a goddamn ghost really is watching us-”

You cut her off. “What exactly are you worried about?”

“I- I don't know,” she stammers indignantly, “I just—ugh, whatever.”

“I mean, it's not like they'll do anything.”

She gives you a dubious look. “I bet they're already judging me.”

You grin at the thought. “Oh, definitely. I can feel them judging you right now.” You gesture at the dark corner again. “See that? that's Jessica.”

“Jessica?” she repeats.

“Yes, Jessica,” you say with a grin. “She died here and has been here a long time, waiting for the next victim.”

She eyes the corner again, narrowing her eyes. “I can't see anything. Not sure if the ghost is real.”

“She's real, alright. Watch this.” You point at the corner. “Jessica, give her a jumpscare.”

She looks back and forth at the corner, then back at you. “What-” She's cut off when you suddenly poke her side. “AHK-” she yells, jerking away from you. “You-!”

You grin at her. “See? Told you Jessica's real.”

“Are you trying to kill me?” she accuses, shoving you in the chest. “I hate you, you are the worst, motherfucker-”

“Jessica said you should watch your language.”

She swivels her gaze back to the corner. “Jessica can go suck my dic-”

“Jessica said you shouldn't talk to the dead that way.”

She gives you another indignant glare. “Jessica can eat my ass.”

“Ohhhhh, Jessica didn't like that.”

She looks at the corner again, trying to look intimidating. “Jessica, I don't like you.”

“Jessica said she's heartbroken.”

Jinx tries to kick your leg, but you dodge playfully. “Jessica's a damn liar.”

“Maybe Jessica should haunt you for the rest of your life,” you say, still grinning.

She scoffs, turning to look at you. “I bet it's worse to get haunted by a ghost than see a dead body,” she mutters, coughing.

Her words catch you off guard, and you look away, suddenly feeling guilty about joking with her. “Yeah.” You try to think of anything else to say. “Um. Sorry.”

She shrugs. “It's fine. It's just a stupid joke.”

Silence falls between you again, and you stare at the ground, not knowing what to say.

“What if…” you start after an awkward silence, “What if you're being haunted by someone you like forever… I mean, would it be better to get haunted by someone you like instead of… you know, someone you hate.”

She hesitates, looking at nothing in particular. “Uh... probably... yeah.”

“Yeah?” you repeat. “And who would you want to be haunted by?”

“No one,” she quickly replies. “I mean, it's not like I want to get haunted, I just think it would be better if I did.”

There's a beat of silence as the two of you sit, listening to the nothingness of the storage room.

“What if I haunted you?” she asks.

“You?”

Her eyes whip over to you. “Yeah, me.”

“You want to haunt me?”

“Why not?” she responds. “If I had to haunt someone, why wouldn't I pick you?”

You blink. “Why would you pick me?”

“Is a good reason really needed?” she asks, looking away from you. “Maybe I just want to be around you.” She says it nonchalantly, as if she's stating a fact.

A fact that makes no sense to you. Why would she want to stay with you? “That makes literally no sense.”

She shrugs, her knees bumping against yours. “Does it need to make sense?”

“Yes.”

“Why does it need to make sense?”

“Because-” you stumble over your words. “Because you don't get to just say things and expect me to understand-”

“Bullshit.” A retort is on the tip of your tongue, but she cuts you off again before you can respond. “Just answer this.”

“Answer what?”

She stares at you intently, eyes narrowed. “If I said I wanted to stay with you all the time, would that make sense to you?”

“Well, yeah. That makes sense. You already hang around me-”

“No, not just when we work. I mean-” she stops, staring at the floor in an attempt to avoid your gaze. “I want to… be with you.”

“You're already with me,” you say. “We're literally stuck in a storage room together.”

Jinx sighs exasperatedly. “No, I mean, I want to always be with you.” There's a pause. “And… if that means haunting you, then I'd want to haunt you.”

Your brain stops. What? She wants to be with you all the time? As in... always?

...

The floor is suddenly very interesting. You stare at the concrete, trying to process the words that just escaped her mouth.

“Why?”

“Why what?”

Your voice is too fast. “Why would you want-”

“Because I enjoy your company,” she interrupts you quickly, “and you probably wouldn't mind if I was around.” She stares at her fingernails, avoiding your eyes. “I'm just saying,” she continues, “It'd be pretty nice. Spending eternity with you.”

Something in your chest tightens at those words.

Spend eternity with you.

It dawns on you that you're feeling something that you haven't experienced before. Or maybe you've felt it before, on rare occasions. The feeling of your heart beating too fast, for no reason.

Your eyes dart to your hand, lying on your right leg. Her knee brushes against yours again. You look away from your legs and stare at her face.

She's still staring down at her fingers.

In the dim light of the storage room, her face is almost glowing… she looks beautiful. How can someone look so perfect, even when talking about such disturbing things?

Huh. It's strange. Someone who looks so beautiful, talking about something so disturbing.

She tucks a strand of blue hair behind her ear, eyes not lifting from her fingers.

You feel the urge to touch her.

Not in a weird way. But to feel the smoothness of her skin on your hand. To feel her hair run through your fingers. To… you don't know. Just feel her.

“Why-” you start, your voice too loud. You stop talking. Why are you trying to say something?

She glances up and stares back at you. “Hmm?”

“Why me? I mean... there are a lot of people in this shitty city or shitty world, so why would you like to stay with me?”

She looks at you and pauses for a moment. Her knee brushes against yours again, and she scoots closer, resting her head on your shoulder. “I don't care about the world. I just want you.” Her words are quiet, spoken only to you.

Everything in the storage room seems to disappear. The boxes that surround you have disappeared. Everything melts away, except for the girl, resting her head on your shoulder, and the words that she speaks to you. Just the two of you, in a room of shadows.

“You wouldn't mind, do you?” Her words rip you out of your thoughts.

“Mind what?” you respond stupidly.

“Spending an eternity with me.” 

You lick your lips again, but your mouth is completely dry. Your throat is dry too. Your brain is going stupid.

You aren't sure why. It's just... the implication of her words. Of eternity with Jinx.

With the woman who made a shitty job… less shitty. With the woman who somehow made you look forward to the drink that you hated so much, all because she makes it differently. With the woman who taught you that there are some things, even disliked things, that can grow on you.

You realize you're smiling and quickly attempt to return a neutral expression.

You glance down at her head, right below your chin.

You imagine living with her constantly. Stuck with her. For eternity.

It would drive any sane person mad.

You aren't a sane person.

“I wouldn't mind... spending an eternity with you,” you hear yourself saying.

You can feel her smile even though you can't see it. She shifts on the floor, and suddenly her hand is sliding across the space between you. Her fingers are brushing against your arm, slowly creeping down as if to find yours.

“That's good,” she murmurs.

Her hand finally finds yours, she stops for a second, and then she slowly intertwines your fingers together.

You move your thumb across her knuckles, tracing the lines and veins. You'd thought about holding her hand once before. You'd never thought that it would make breathing so much more difficult.

Her thumb starts doing the same, tracing over your knuckles.

You glance at her hand, interlocked with yours. You stare at the bandages as Jinx continues to trace over your veins, the pads of her fingers soft and delicate as they brush against your skin.

Her hand is so gentle and yet also so rough at the same time. Rough, because you can feel the callouses, the slight scrapes across her knuckles. Gentle, because even with her rough skin, her hand still touches you so softly.

What would it be like, being with her forever? Always.

Would the moments like this become mundane? would it get old? holding her hand and sitting in a storage room, talking with her?

She pulls her head away from your shoulder and looks fully at you.

You notice how close she is. You could easily reach out and touch the strands of hair that fall over her forehead. Her eyes are dilated, looking at you with what can only be affection.

You realize how easy it would be to kiss her.

“I wouldn't mind it either,” she says.

Her eyelashes flutter, and her gaze darts to your lips. You feel a heat grow in your chest, and your own eyes drift to her lips, slightly parted.

You aren't sure who leans in, but one of you is shifting forward.

She swallows, and her tongue flicks out to wet her own lips. You find yourself unconsciously copying their movement, licking your bottom lip.

You think about how her lips would feel. Soft? Warm? What would it taste like-

And then she turns her head away from you and back into the corner, clearing her throat awkwardly. You clear your throat as well, trying to think of something else to focus on.

Anything but how close her lips were to yours.

She squeezes your hand briefly before letting go, and the loss of her touch leaves a cold feeling on your skin. “Uh-” her voice is slightly hoarse, “is Jessica still there?”

—

The next few days went by in a dull routine, one that you quickly fell back into. Wake up. Go to class. Study. Work. Classwork. Get some sleep.

It was just like the rest of any normal week, except one thing had changed.

Jinx.

Or rather, the lack of Jinx. 

She hadn't shown up to work. You didn't know why, but the fact that you arrived at work and she wasn't there to hand you a matcha latte was definitely... odd.

You had gotten used to the smell of her matcha assaulting you the minute you stepped into work, to the point where the smell of coffee beans seemed unusually bland.

And now there was just coffee.

Even the matcha latte you had made yourself didn't taste the same. You're not sure why you had decided to make yourself a matcha latte.

It's stupid to do. You hate matcha, you've always hated it.

Too bitter. And yet...

No amount of sugar can seem to make it sweet, like Jinx somehow does. Nothing seemed to taste the same without her. Matcha, bitter. Coffee, bland. Café, boring.

Everything had suddenly, and quite inexplicably, felt wrong… like…

The sugar in the cabinet was suddenly moved to a new place, and you couldn't remember where the hell it was now because it wasn't where it was before. Or an apocalypse, but instead of surviving a nuclear blast or zombies, you now had to survive the absence of someone you didn't quite know you had begun to depend on so much.

You look at the clock. Only four hours left of this shift. Only four hours.

—

“Oh, did you not hear? Jinx is sick,” Jayce says. “She called saying she was sick, probably not coming in for a week or so.”

“Sick?” you echo.

“Yeah, she didn't sound too good.” He shakes his head as he continues making coffee. 

“When did she call?” 

He pauses what he's doing. “Uh... about a couple days ago.”

She called in over a couple days ago, and you're only being told now. “Couple days…” you repeat, just to clarify. “Why are you just telling me now?”

“I thought you knew?”

“No, I didn't.”

Jayce looks mildly annoyed as he finishes up a customer's order. “She told me she talked to you about it.”

“She talked to me? When?”

“Are you telling me she didn't talk to you?”

“She didn't. Not one word.”

He finishes the order and hands the coffee to a customer. “That's weird. You guys are close, I thought she would've told you that she was sick.”

Close. That's the word that sticks in your head when he says it. Close enough where she would've told you something as big as not being able to come to work for a week. Right? but she didn't tell you anything.

“She didn't tell me anything,” you say.

He scratches his chin. “Maybe she forgot to tell you?”

“Maybe.” Maybe. 

Or maybe she was avoiding you. Maybe she just didn't want to talk to you. Maybe she suddenly had an epiphany about how you were close. Maybe she just didn't want to be close anymore. Maybe she got scared and regretted it.

But that makes no sense.

If she regretted it, why would she have held your hand so tightly? why would she have said that you were the person she wanted to spend an eternity with? why would she say it like it was something she had thought about for a while?

“Maybe you should go check up on her?” Jayce suggests, shaking his head like he can sense your train of thought going off the rails.

“Check up on her?”

He shrugs. “Yeah, she might appreciate some company. Someone to look after her while she's sick.”

“I'm not sure if-,” you begin, but you're cut off by Jayce.

“Come on, it'd be nice for her,” he urges. “She doesn't have anyone else around to check up on her.”

You remember her telling you that her last family was killed when she was a kid, and she lives alone. She also mentioned that her sister is in prison.

Yeah, maybe you should go check on her.

After all, why wouldn't you? it would be a perfectly reasonable thing to do. You cared enough about her to go see how she was doing.

You care about her, so it only makes sense to go check on her. “Yeah,” you say, “I'll go see her.”

“Alright. I can handle the rest of the shift if you want to go.”

—

The entire commute there is a test of your sanity.

It takes nearly two hours to finally reach her address, the commute filled with cramped subway trains and waiting in pouring rain for buses to show up. Your hair is wet and sticking to your face.

Carrying a bag of the matcha sweets she liked was easy enough, but the latte was a little more difficult. It kept sloshing in the cup and threatening to spill over the edge with every step you took. Still, you managed not to dump the drink all over yourself.

By the time you finally arrived at her apartment, all you wanted to do was collapse in a chair and take a nap for the rest of the year.

And it was only 4:35 in the afternoon.

You look at the piece of scrap paper that Jayce gave you with Jinx's address on it. Fifth floor, room 505.

With a weary groan, you take the stairs. The elevator is broken, and there's no way in hell you're taking that janky elevator. You feel like it might just get stuck halfway and drop you to your death.

When you reach her floor, you're pretty sure you're ready to die. You walk around the hall and look at the first few doors.

500... 501... 502… 503... 504...

You pass a group of teenagers who walk past you with their phones out, shouting at the top of their lungs and shoving each other around. A baby is crying in some apartment as you pass the door, and a dog is barking from behind another.

505.

You eye the door, taking a moment to catch your breath and try to straighten out your wet clothes. Here goes nothing.

You knock on the door. No answer at first. You knock again. Nothing.

You knock louder, hoping to get some kind of response. It's another solid minute of no answer, and you're getting increasingly annoyed. She's either asleep or-

The door suddenly opens.

“Yeah, who-” Jinx starts but then stops speaking entirely when she sees you. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

She's wearing a threadbare gray t-shirt that hangs off one of her shoulders and barely comes anywhere close to covering any of her thighs. She has a tissue shoved into her nose and dark circles around her eyes. Her hair is messy, unbrushed, and unkempt.

Is this really the same person who had been handing you daily lattes every day for two months?

“Well, that's a hell of a greeting,” you grumble, shifting your bag and the nearly spilled latte to your other hand.

She's looking at you like you've done something wrong. Actually, she's looking at you like she's trying to kill you with just a stare.

You hold up the bag. “Brought food.”

“You shouldn't be here,” she spits out before slamming the door shut.

…wow. That was a warm welcome.

All you wanted to do was give her food and check to see if she was ok. She was sick, alone, and she probably didn't have anything to eat. And she just slammed the door in your face?

Screw this. You turn around ready to leave but stop when you hear the door creak open.

“Hey.” You turn and look over your shoulder. The door is open, but only slightly. Jinx peeks her head out the door, glaring at you. “What kind of food?” she asks, pointing to the bag

Not the kind of apology you're hoping for, but you'll take it. “Matcha sweets and a latte that I made.”

“That actually sounds-” she cuts herself off and sniffles, “...alright.” She opens the door all the way and turns to go back into the apartment. “Come in or leave, but don't just stand there like an idiot.”

You scoff and step inside, cautiously shutting the door behind you.

The first thing you notice is the smell. It doesn't smell exactly like garbage, but it stinks of old clothes and day-old food. It's not quite disgusting, it's not quite nice, but it reeks. Like someone hasn't opened a window and aired out the apartment in a while.

The next thing you notice is how much everything there is. Clothes sprawled over the couch, cans of energy drinks strewn across the floor, boxes of takeout littering the kitchen counters.

“Make yourself at home,” she says sarcastically, kicking a pile of clothes out of the way so you can sit on the couch. She pulls a tissue out of her nose and tosses it onto the floor.

You tentatively take a seat on the couch, shifting the latte and bag to the coffee table. Your eyes dart around the room as Jinx continues to shove things off the couch and onto the floor.

The entire wall beside the couch is covered in papers... and notes... and equations. It looks like a bunch of chemical compounds and designs.

She doesn't seem to notice you staring at the wall as she collapses onto the other end of the couch.

There are a few diagrams of rockets and some drawings of the coffee shop. Drawings of her and her deceased family, her deceased friends, and a drawing of… 

Wait- 

Is that your face? 

A drawing of your face is taped to the wall, scribbled with notes around it. ‘Nice lips.’

“What the-” you start, tilting your head to get a better look.

Jinx looks at you, noticing where you're staring, then follows your line of sight. She immediately turns red. “Oh. Uh-” she stutters, sitting up. 

“Did you-” you try to ask.

“It's nothing,” she says quickly, jumping off the couch. She scrambles towards the wall, tearing off the drawing. “Just a—just a quick sketch, it means nothing.”

You're fairly sure it means something, but you don't get the chance to press her further as she rips the paper apart and throws it into the trash can, avoiding your gaze.

“Anyway-” she says, plopping back down on the couch, “-I bet the food's good, right?”

Food... right. That was the whole point of coming over in the first place. “Uh... yeah.”

You watch as she grabs the latte and takes a sip. “Ugh, this is too bitter.” She sets down the latte and pushes it away from her. “What'd you put in this? It tastes like dirt.”

“The same stuff I always put in it,” you respond, slightly annoyed at the insult to your latte making abilities.

She shrugs and picks up one of the matcha sweets instead, popping it in her mouth. “Might as well teach you how to make one when I'm back.”

You watch her chew the sweets, then pause, letting out a sniffle, then reach up to wipe her nose with the back of her hand.

She lets out a dry cough. “Why exactly are you here?” 

“Jayce told me you were sick,” you reply.

“I'm not—wait, Jayce told you that?”

“Yeah, he did.”

“Why were you even listening to him?”

“Because I was worried about you.”

She looks at you for a moment, then turns to grab another tissue and shoves it into her nose. “I'm not sick... just busy.”

You pointedly look around. “Uh huh,” you grumble, “Doing what exactly?”

“Stuff.”

“Stuff like-” you gesture to the entire mess. “-this?”

“It's my midterms, idiot.”

“So, no one's been cleaning up?” you ask, eyes darting around again in the apartment.

“I don't have time,” she complains, before letting out a deep cough and clutching her chest in pain. “I have more important things to do. Besides, do I look like I can clean when I can't even breathe through my damn nose right now?” Jinx sniffs, then reaches for another matcha sweet, her hair falling over her face.

You give her a sidelong glance. “You look like you're about to keel over.”

“Don't be dramatic.”

“I'm not,” you say, reaching out a hand to touch her forehead, checking for a fever.

She swats your hands away. “Don't touch me.”

You retract your hand. “Seriously?”

“Yeah, seriously. Why are you even here anyway? You don't have to worry about me.”

“I know I don't have to.”

“Then just go. I'm busy.”

You groan. “You're sick. You need, like, I don't know, someone to take care of you.”

“I'm fine-” she coughs again, “-I just need to-” Another dry cough, and she grabs another tissue. “I just need to-,” another cough, “-finish my midterm exam.”

“You need to rest.”

“I can't rest.”

“Why not?”

“Because I'm behind.”

“What's the exam?”

She pauses, then reluctantly gestures to the mess on the wall. “I'm trying to design something, and it requires a lot of diagrams and calculations.”

So that's what all those equations and numbers and notes are. But that doesn't explain why her apartment is such a wreck.

“And that's why you haven't cleaned up?” you ask.

She glares at you, tossing the used tissue. “How would you react if you had a deadline, and you were on the verge of throwing up?”

“I know you're stressed, but-”

“You don't know anything!” Jinx snaps all of a sudden, standing up and looking you dead in the face.

“Seriously, what's your problem?” you retort.

“My problem is that you're here when you shouldn't be-”

“I'm here because I was worried about you. You-”

She interrupts you again. “Well, you shouldn't be. I don't want your help.”

“You don't want my help,” you repeat slowly.

“You heard me.”

You bite your tongue and take a deep, slow breath. “Then…” you manage to choke out, “...whose help do you want?”

“Nobody's,” she mutters. “I don't need anyone's help. I've done just fine for years. I can do it myself.”

But you shouldn't have to. 

She continues as she walks towards her bedroom. “I'm sick and tired and trying to finish something that's due in a few days, and I don't need you to come barging in, trying to-” She stops, clutching her chest and coughing again.

“You should be resting and taking it easy-” you coax, standing.

“I would be resting and taking it easy if you weren't here.”

You freeze, feeling yourself grow cold. 

You know she's just cranky, that she's sick and upset that she's stuck like this, that her deadline is near, and that you're just the person who happens to be around.

“Sorry,” you mumble, “didn't know you wanted me gone.”

She opens her mouth, hesitating for a second, before nodding her head firmly. “I'm sick, and I need to finish some work. So just do me this one favor and get out.”

Her words are harsh, more harsh than you think you can handle.

But even more than the fact they were words of rejection and anger, what hurt was the feeling that those words were coming from the same woman who had, just days earlier, curled against you, told you that you were the one she wanted to spend an eternity with.

“Fine,” you say quietly, “If that's what you want.”

She looks at you, and you swear for a second you think you see her expression soften, but then she nods her head again. “Yeah, that's what I want.”

You glance around at the mess of diagrams and paperwork plastered on the walls, the trash littered everywhere, and the couch that looked like it hadn't been slept on in days. 

“I'll see you at work,” you say lamely, turning away and walking towards the door.

She doesn't say a word to stop you. You open the door, and you want her to say something to stop, a please, a wait, or anything, but nothing comes.

With one last glance back at her, you leave.

—

“That was…” Jayce starts, pausing. “Did she even listen to you?”

“She was more dead set on booting me out of there.”

He lets out a breath. “She's stubborn.”

“Yeah,” you agree, “And stupid as hell.”

“But she's unwell,” he continues.

“Doesn't give her an excuse to say that I shouldn't be there.”

“True.” He looks over at you. “You look upset.”

You scoff. “Of course I'm upset. I show up to see how my friend is feeling, and her immediate response is to kick me out. Like she doesn't want me anywhere near her.”

Jayce frowns. “Don't take it too personally. She's not trying to hurt you on purpose. I'm sure that once she's feeling better, she'll apologize.”

—

She did not, in fact, apologize.

It's been over a week since you entered her apartment, Jinx isn't sick anymore and isn't busy with midterms, she's back to how she usually was. She talks, she laughs, she jokes but never looks in your direction, no word, no greetings… and not once does she ever slide a cup of matcha in your direction like she used to.

Whenever she works with you, she keeps things strictly professional. Her hands never accidentally brush against yours, and she never stands closer than necessary.

You've tried giving her space, hoping she'd approach you when she was ready to talk it out. But the space never got filled.

It's like, in a single day, you went from being... almost something to nothing.

—

Jayce calls out your name from the counter as you wipe down the tables.

“What?” you call back, watching as Jayce walks over to you. 

He nods towards Jinx, who is currently chatting with a customer. “When are you going to talk to her?”

“When are you going to stop being so nosy?”

He snorts. “I want to help you two sort this out. She's too stubborn, and so are you.”

“She doesn't want to talk to me,” you reply.

“Because you both are too proud.”

“Or I just don't want to go chase after her when it's clear she doesn't want to talk to me.”

Jayce sighs. “Look, you're my friend, I want to help you work it out.”

“She doesn't want to talk, Jayce,” you say firmly. “I don't know how to fix this if she's ignoring me.”

“That's the point, you have to make her talk.”

You scoff. “Yeah, make a girl talk who probably wants me dead right now.”

“She doesn't want you dead. Do you think it's a coincidence that she makes a point to talk to all the other regulars?”

“What's that supposed to mean?”

He lifts his shoulders. “I'm just saying, every time you're here, she tends to talk more to the customers, especially the male ones.”

“Are you saying she's flirting now?”

“No, I'm saying she's doing it for your attention.”

“Why would she be doing it for my attention? She made it pretty clear she doesn't want me around.”

He throws his arms up. “Because she wants you to get jealous. She wants you to react to it. She wants you to get mad and do something about it.”

“How would you know?”

“Maybe the fact that she's been glancing at you every five minutes for the past hour?”

“...she's not.”

“Yes, she is.”

“Stop saying that, I see her right-” and your sentence cuts off as your eyes flick over to where Jinx is, she's still talking to a customer.

The customer leans closer to her and says something that clearly makes her laugh. Her eyes dart in your direction as she laughs.

She's definitely looking at you. Jayce is right, she is looking at you. Her laughter dies at the same time her eyes lock on yours. She averts her gaze the moment she sees that you caught her.

“See?” Jayce says, “She keeps looking at you. She's doing it for your attention, not anyone else's.”

“Okay, so let's say she's doing it for my attention,” you continue. “What am I supposed to do about it? You said it yourself, she's stubborn.”

“You're going to have to do something that gets her attention. Make her upset, make her angry, make her do something. She won't talk unless you push her to.”

You stare at him. “Are you really implying what I think you're implying?”

He grins smugly. “That depends, what do you think I'm implying?”

“You're asking me to make her jealous.”

“I'm not asking you to do anything,” he retorts. “I'm suggesting you do it because it'll work. Do you want to continue like this, ignoring each other, for god knows how long? or do you want to get this sorted out?”

It sounds absurd. Ridiculous. Stupid. Immature. But if it makes her talk to you… “You really think it'll work?” you finally relent.

He grins knowingly. “Oh, it'll definitely work.”

—

It was a really stupid idea, especially coming from Jayce. But he was pretty adamant about it, and you were a bit too desperate.

You're trying your best to not scratch at the sleeve of this stupid shirt that Jayce forced you to wear. It's a dark blue long sleeve. Jayce claimed to have worn it on a ‘date,’ and it ‘worked’ with the person he was trying to date at the time. Now, you're the one wearing it.

“This is stupid.”

“No, it isn't,” Jayce insists from behind the counter. “It'll definitely work.”

“It's dumb.”

“Will you just do it?” he huffs. “She's going to be here soon.”

There's no way in hell this would work. It's just a shirt. There's no way that Jinx would-

The bell on the cafe door rings as it opens.

Jinx is walking through the door. She spots the counter where Jayce and you are, and she stops for a second.

She takes a look at you from head to toe, her gaze lingering longer on the dark blue shirt, and then she forcefully looks away from you and begins walking towards the break room where the lockers are.

Jayce elbows you in the side, nodding in her direction. “See? It's working-”

You elbow him back. “She just went to the break room, how is that working?”

“That was just the first step. Wait and see.”

—

You stand by the coffee machine, waiting for it to finish brewing a drink for a customer. Jinx is on the other side, making a different drink.

The machine's steam causes the sweat on your lower forearms to be sticky, causing the cloth to cling to your skin, and so you roll them up slightly, just above the elbow.

You make a point to not look at her, but you feel her attention fall onto your forearms, her eyes trailing down to the way your arms look, seeing the cloth of the shirt clinging from the sweat.

At the corner of your eye, you see her biting her lip, her breath hitching, and there's a subtle flush on her cheeks.

She looks away the second she realizes that you caught her staring at your arms, but it was enough for you to know that she was.

It's working. Damn it, it's actually working.

—

You feel her breath on the back of your neck as she reaches behind you for the coffee machine, her body just barely brushing against your back.

She quickly pulls away, going back to her end of the counter. “It's really hot in here,” she mumbles.

You nod, picking up a towel and wiping some sweat off your neck, lifting the collar of your shirt to wipe off your collarbone. “I know, the air conditioning really sucks.”

She stares at you, her eyes traveling down your neck to your collarbone. “It's hot in here…” she repeats. Then, she swallows and looks away with a cough, the steam from the machine giving a good excuse for the redness on her face. “Yeah, it really sucks.”

It goes on like that. Glances are stolen. Awkward touches are exchanged. The air seems to grow hotter every time you're near her.

You're surprised neither of you have passed out from heat exhaustion yet.

—

“Are you free this Friday..?” The customer in front of you asks.

You're well aware of the fact that Jinx is behind you. You can hear her moving around. “Uh, I-” you pause, trying to ignore the eyes that are boring into your skull. “Yeah. Why?”

“Do you have a…” she trails off and glances over your shoulder, “Girlfriend?”

Jayce coughs obnoxiously beside you as he wipes the countertop. You almost give him a look, but instead, you shake your head. “No, I'm single.”

There's a loud bang behind you. Jinx bumps something, and whatever it is clanks against the floor.

“Really?” she continues, her voice raising a tone. “A pretty girl like you doesn't have a girlfriend?”

Jayce says something under his breath, and you swear you hear a muttered “yet.”

You ignore him and respond to the customer. “Uh, you think I'm pretty?”

The customer looks you up and down, her eyes stopping just below your chest before slowly trailing down. “Yeah, you're pretty hot,” she replies as she leans forward, resting her hand on the counter and showing off way more skin than what most would consider decent.

“Ah, thank you,” you say politely, forcing your gaze to stay on the customer's face and not... anywhere else. “You're pretty yourself.”

There's another clang behind you.

The customer laughs and twirls a strand of her hair. “I bet you say that all the time.”

Jinx steps around you, almost brushing against your side.

“Not really,” you reply, keeping your eyes trained away from her. “I don't really-”

You're interrupted suddenly by Jinx, who is now standing directly beside you, grabbing something from the shelf. She leans in closer, her chest almost brushing against your arm as she grabs something.

It's the first time she's been so close to you in weeks.

She leans back, holding a container of matcha powder—the same one she always uses to make your latte—and she looks you in the eye. “You want your latte, right?” she asks you. She smiles, but it doesn't reach her eyes.

Yes. You miss her matcha latte so much. “No,” you force yourself to say, avoiding her eyes.

“Oh,” she says, she sounds surprised? “Really?” She looks down at the matcha powder, running a thumb over the label, and looks back up at you.

Don't look at her. “Yeah, I... I don't want one,” you lie.

“Are you sure? It's been a while since you had my matcha latte.”

You want one so much. You want her to smile and be carefree and make you a latte that will warm you down to the core, but- “I'm sure,” you lie again. “I'm good.”

“That's... that's a shame.”

“Yeah,” you reply, and you want to punch yourself because no, it's not a shame, it's a sin. You are an idiot. “Definitely a shame.”

She's just a few inches away, and all you want to do is reach out for her, take her into your arms, and make her look at you, but she looks at the matcha in her hands.

“Guess I wasted this then,” she mumbles before putting the container back and starting to take orders from the other customers.

“Idiot,” Jayce mutters, and you elbow him hard in the gut. He doubles over, clutching his stomach, and you turn back to the customer.

“Uh… anyway,” you say, then turn your attention back to the customer, forcing yourself to smile. “What were you saying?”

—

After a long shift, the café is finally empty, and the cleanup is done. You've mopped up the floors, put everything away, you're starting to get all nice and sweaty, and the break room has a much-needed air conditioner.

You open your locker and shoved your apron inside, sweat clinging to your shirt and making it cling to your skin. You grimace and reach down, trying to fix the collar of the shirt that feels tighter than normal.

Before you have a chance to readjust it, a glimpse of something in the locker catches your eye. You look down, and there, sitting in the center of your locker, is a cup of matcha latte.

You didn't put it there. Jayce didn't put it there either. So there is only one other person who could have put it there.

You pick up the cup, looking at the steaming drink. Well, you aren't going to drink it just to let it go to waste.

You immediately take a sip, feeling the warm, sweet taste of matcha on your tongue. It's been so long since you had this, and it's still the same taste as the ones she used to make for you when you two were in a... good place.

That was a long time ago now. Things are different now.

“So you do want one.”

A familiar voice makes you jump, causing you to almost spill the drink. You turn around to find the bluenette leaning against the doorframe to the break room.

“I made it for you, in case you wanted it,” she adds, entering the break room, then leaning one shoulder against the row of lockers. Jinx looks at your face, then your shirt. “You look sweaty.”

You want to say something, but your brain forgets how to function when she's looking you up and down.

“I like the shirt,” she comments, pointing at the shirt that is a little too tight around your shoulders. “It looks good. Fits you well.”

“It's not my shirt,” you reply, placing the cup down on a nearby table, hoping that she'll let that be the end of that. “Jayce gave it to me.”

“He did?” she asks, and you catch a subtle whiff of her favorite perfume. It makes you want to grab her and drown in it.

“Uh, yeah,” you mutter, pulling the collar of your shirt nervously.

She looks over to your nervous gesture, and her lips twitch. “You should loosen the collar,” she notes. “You're going to suffocate like that.”

Her comment gives you pause, and you try loosening the collar, but your sweaty hands can't get a grip. “Here.” 

She reaches up, her delicate fingers undo the first few buttons of your shirt, exposing your collarbones. Her fingers then pull the collar slightly, allowing your hot skin the cool touch of air.

“There,” she murmurs once the collar is loose. “That looks more comfortable.”

You manage to find enough sanity to nod, knowing that if you speak now, your voice will most likely crack. You expect her to pull back, but her fingers remain, trailing over your collar as though they just happened to land there.

Her eyes roaming over your neck before lifting to your face. Your eyes are caught on her as well, studying every movement of her face, the way her expression softens and her eyes drift over your features.

“...I'm sorry.”

The words finally bring your attention back. “What?” 

She pauses, biting her bottom lip. “I said I'm sorry,” she clarifies. “I... I shouldn't have snapped at you like that a week ago. Shouldn't have said what I said.”

“Then why did you?” you ask, eyes fixed on her lips.

Jinx seems to struggle with her next words, her hand finally dropping from your collar. “...I don't know how to handle things well,” she whispers, “I wasn't... I wasn't feeling well either. That's why I lost it. You showed up... when I wasn't in the right mind frame, and I said all these stupid things-”

She sighs and pushes some hair behind one of her ears. “I was stupid. I was stupid, and I said some awful things. Words I didn't mean and couldn't take back. Everything with my college work started to pile up, and I felt like I couldn't handle it. So you showed up and-” she swallows. “-I took it out on you… and then I just ignored you for a week.” She shifts from foot to foot. “I… I wasn't trying to avoid you. I just... I thought you'd be annoyed.”

“Annoyed because you were ignoring me?”

“No—yes—maybe—I don't know, alright?” she says hastily. “I just... I wasn't in the mindset to talk, ok? I was trying to figure things out.”

“You could’ve told me-”

“-I don't do so well when it comes to opening up about my feelings-” she stops, then shakes her head. “-I don't do so well with being honest with myself.”

You let out a breath. “I know... I know you don't, but that-”

“Stop,” she interrupts you, raising a hand. “Just... stop. I know what you're going to say. You're going to say that I should work on being better instead of pushing you away.” She continues. “I know I do it. I know I'm bad at it, and I'm not good with my emotions. I know I'm not the best at saying how I feel. I know I should work on my communication.”

“Why don't you then?” you ask bluntly. “Why don't you do something about it? why can't you just try to deal with things instead of pushing me away and dealing with everything alone? why can't you just talk to me instead of bottling everything up?”

She closes her eyes, looking away. “I don't know,” she exhales, “I just... I don't know how.”

“You could start today,” you tell her, reaching out. Your fingers brush over the back of her hand.

Her eyes drop to where you touch her and linger.

“Right now,” you emphasize, “Just... try. You don't have to start working on all your emotions and feelings. Just say one thing. Tell me how you feel, right now.”

She shakes her head, refusing to look at you.

“Tell me one thing,” you insist, “Just one thing. Try.”

She sighs, as if you're the worst person in the world. Maybe you are. “Okay-” she starts and finally looks up, “If you're trying to make me spill out my feelings-”

“I am,” you confirm. “That’s exactly-”

“-Then maybe I should show you first-” she continues over you “-What I'm feeling.”

She suddenly reaches out and grabs the back of your neck, gripping it tight enough to pull you forward.

“Hey-” you stumble, hands instinctively wrapping around her waist, but any protests you might've had are smothered because her lips are suddenly on yours.

A week of ignoring each other, and suddenly she's kissing you.

Her lips are so soft. So soft and insistent, and when you don't respond because your brain is still trying to catch up, her teeth graze over your bottom lip, and it's this gesture that snaps you out of it.

You kiss her back, eyes finally closing, and lean in to meet her. Your fingers sink into the fabric of her shirt, and her arms wind around your neck. Her mouth parts, and you take the silent invitation, your tongue slipping in, exploring the inside of her mouth.

She tastes like the feeling when it's cold, and your teeth ache, and it feels like all warmth has left your body, but then you take a sip of your hot drink, and the burn of the drink goes down your throat, and you feel just the tiniest bit warmer. It's not enough, it isn't enough to make your fingers warm or the tip of your nose, but still, the small warmth you feel is better than none.

You want to bottle up this feeling, this taste, and store it in the back of your throat until, when you need it, you can just swallow and feel the warmth.

She hums, low in her throat, and it sounds like a moan. She pushes you forward until your back is met with the lockers, pinning your body between the hard surface and herself.

Her teeth graze your lip again, her tongue teases yours, and you shiver despite the warmth you feel. “I was stupid,” she mumbles against your mouth, “So, so stupid.”

You grunt out some sort of agreement because yes, she is stupid and yes, you're stupid and yes, you're both idiots for ignoring each other.

You feel her smile before she pulls herself away. “That,” she murmurs, breathless, “that was what I was feeling.”

You open your eyes to look at her, and notice her pink cheeks, half-lidded eyes, her swollen lips, and you fight down the urge to turn her around and just shove her back against the locker and kiss her senseless.

“Are-” you manage, breathing hard, trying to regain the words that have fled from your head, “Are all your emotions channeled through your mouth?”

“Maybe,” she says, eyes dropping to your lips. “Is there a problem with using my mouth?”

There are a lot of words you would like to say. Words relating to how her mouth has driven you crazy for a long time, that you've spent more time than you'd like to admit imagining what it would be like to kiss her and see that mouth do things other than talking.

Too bad, all those words are stuck in your throat. “No,” you grit out, “No... there's no problem.”

“Great,” she replies, then grins, leaning closer until your noses bump. “Then maybe my mouth has more things to show you.”

—

The usual routine of making matcha lattes continues, and the days slowly pass.

Each day, Jinx greets you with a smile and a cup of that disgustingly good matcha. You no longer try to argue with your taste buds. You have given up and accepted the matcha as a part of yourself. Now you drink the horrible drink willingly.

And your relationship with Jinx went from ‘maybe something’ to ‘maybe nothing’ to ‘definitely something.’ You're finally dating, which isn't to say that everything is magically all better. Jinx is still Jinx, and you're still you.

So not everything changes.

The cafe still looks the same, the customers still act the same, you still have to deal with shitty customers and traffic. But even through all the normal, unchanged things, there's one thing that's different.

Jinx is now in your life.

“Hey-” Jinx waves a hand in front of your face. “Are you listening to anything I'm saying?”

“Uh-” you blink, returning to reality. “...yeah,” you lie, giving a sheepish smile, “totally listening.”

She stares at you for a long, long moment, as if trying to determine if you're lying to her or not. Apparently, she thinks you're being truthful.

“Great, now pay attention.” She resumes her instructions, and you try your hardest to pay attention. Mostly. Maybe.

You watch as she grabs a glass bottle from the shelf above the coffee machine and pours a small amount of... something into her mug. “What's that?” you ask.

“Honey.”

“Yeah?”

“Honey,” she repeats, tilting the bottle for you to see. “Honey. Sweet, golden honey.”

Ah, that honey. “That's what I thought.” You nod, like that completely makes sense.

Jinx rolls her eyes but hands you the bottle so you can read the label for yourself.  “This,” she explains, “is what makes my matcha better.”

You look between the bottle and the mug of matcha before placing the honey back on the shelf.

She stirs the matcha and takes a sip, then gives you a smug look. “See? That's why it's better.”

The honey is almost as sweet as the way she's looking at you.

“Sweet,” is what you say instead of how you'd love nothing more than to taste it off her lips. 

She stares at you for a moment, and then she smirks. “Want to try it?” she asks, holding out the cup.

“Sure,” you answer. Why not?

You reach for the cup and lift it to your mouth. You take a small sip of the hot liquid, and… the matcha is sweet, and sweeter because it was in her mouth only moments ago.

“What do you think?” she asks as she takes the drink and sets it on the counter.

“Perfect,” you admit, licking your lips, trying to get rid of some of the sweetness.

She lifts up a hand, her thumb brushes against your lip, wiping away the remnants of the matcha. “You missed a bit.”

You want to grab her hand and-

She pulls her hand away from your mouth and then sucks off the same thumb that had lingered against you while staring at you directly in the eye. “Mhm… Tastes better this way.”

That's it. You'll drag her into the break room and kiss her until neither of you can breathe-

But, before you can do any of that, the cafe door chimes.

Customer, your brain reminds you. It's like getting pulled from a dream... right as it's getting good.

“Hey,” she whispers, “Let's continue this later, yeah?” 

That... sounds like a great idea. Amazing idea. Customer first. And then later.

—

The wind whips through both of your hairs as you pedal down the sidewalk. After putting in long hours and some very generous coffee tips, you've saved up enough to finally repair your bike.

Your ears pick up a familiar chuckle. “This is awesome!” she exclaims, “We're like birds, but cooler.”

Jinx's arms are wrapped around your waist, her legs pressed up beside your thighs, and you don't need to see her face to know that she's grinning.

You grip the handlebars tighter. “We're nothing like birds,” you reply, “Birds can actually fly.”

You feel the soft brush of her lips against the back of your shoulder. “But we're much cooler, right?” she counters.

Your retort dies in your throat as she presses her chin to your shoulder.

“Mmm, I'll take your silence as a yes,” she hums, her breath tickling your ear. She nuzzles her nose against the back of your neck. “You know, I don't think I've ever been this happy.”

“Ever?” you ask, focusing on the road in front of you. “Of all the years you've lived, you're the happiest now? when you're sitting on a bike, of all things?”

She pinches your waist, making you twitch slightly. “Well, if we're being honest, it's not the bike I'm happiest about,” she replies. “It's you that I'm happiest about.”

You roll your eyes to yourself. She's always so honest. You're grateful that she isn't in front of you, because your face feels unusually warm despite the breeze. “You like me that much?” you ask, half joking, half serious.

“Mmm,” she hums, “I like you a lot, actually. Like... a lot, lot.” Each word is emphasized with a light kiss to your shoulder.

“Oh yeah?”

“Yup,” she continues to pepper kisses on your back. “My favorite person in this whole, shitty city.”

“I'm honored,” you quip, trying to sound mocking, but the tone is ruined by the fact that you're smiling without realizing.

She snorts at your lame response against your shoulder, and you feel the brush of her fingertips underneath the hem of your shirt.

“You might be my favorite person too.”

“Only might?” She laughs. “You don't sound very certain.”

“Eh, it's a hard competition,” you reply, making a slow turn left, “There's lots of people in this city-” and you feel her pinch your side again. “But, yes, maybe you're my favorite.”

“Maybe?”

“Definitely,” you correct, feeling her hum against your back.

“Ah, there we go,” she says approvingly. “I knew you had great taste.”

Your smile is wide, and you have the urge to turn around and kiss her, but you're pretty sure that will result in a crash. “Oh, and how did you know?”

“I just had a feeling,” she murmurs, “I always had a feeling we'd end up like this.”

You focus on pedaling, your feet moving in a circular rhythm. “Did you just... know?”

“Yeah. I just knew.”

“You just... knew?” you repeat.

“Sometimes you just know when something is going to happen,” Jinx says. “It just makes sense. Like how the sun will rise every morning... or something.”

You pedal forward, the subway entrance comes into view. “Like the sun will rise every morning,” you repeat, “or something.”

She pauses, and the sound of the wind is the only thing that fills your ears. “Can I admit something?” she asks after a moment of calm silence.

Her voice is unusually serious, and it makes you frown, but you reply gently. “Yeah... always.”

She presses her forehead against your shoulder, her grip tightening around your waist, and you can hear her drawing in a deep, shaky breath.

“When I'm bored,” she whispers, and you can feel her hair brush up against your nape, “I sometimes think about you.”

She continues. “It sounds weird, but yeah. I don't think about you in a ‘sexual way’ that people do with crushes or anything like that. I just... want to be with your presence or see your smile or hear you laugh... or just sit with you.”

You blink, surprised by her words. 

“You make me feel better than anyone else can, and I've had to watch your ass almost every day when you're at the café.”

“That's my fault? you never had to watch my ass, that's a choice you made.”

She scoffs, pinching your side again. “Shhhhh, I'm having a moment here.”

You chuckle softly. “Right, sorry, sorry. Continue.”

“Thank you-” she huffs. “Anyway, I just…” Jinx pauses, her words coming to a stop, and you continue to pedal in silence.

“Sometimes, when I'm not happy or sad, I just... think about you. When I'm lonely and I need someone to say something... when I'm really angry and when I'm so tired of everything and everyone... I think about you. I don't understand why I feel that way. I know that it's not normal.” She hesitates, and you can feel her fingers tighten around your abdomen. “Because even though it's not normal, I don't think it's wrong. I just want to… have you by my side.”

Her words echo in your head, and you find yourself listening more intently than you thought you would.

She sucks in another breath. “I don't care what we're doing, I don't care what we talk about... I just want you to be around.” She presses another soft kiss to the back of your shoulder and buries her face in your shirt once again, mumbling, “I'm happy.”

You swallow, taking your left hand off the handlebar to place it over her hands. “I... I want to be around you too.”

She sighs in relief. “I'm a bit insane,” she whispers. “I'm not.. normal.”

“I don't care if you're not normal,” you reply quietly, your fingers brushing across her knuckles. “Who wants to be normal, anyway?”

She chuckles and kisses your shoulder, inhaling your scent.

You can see a glimpse of the subway station just ahead, the entrance of a tunnel on standby.

You pedal slowly, taking a few more seconds to enjoy the wind and the warmth of Jinx's behind, and then come to a stop in front of the subway entrance.

Her arms loosen their grip on your waist, and you feel the heat of her body leave your back as she hops off the seat. You swing your legs off of the bike and put down the kickstand before facing her.

Your eyes trail over to the tunnel, the sounds of the trains coming in and out of the subway filling the night sky.

“This is me.” She jerks a thumb towards the entrance.

You nod. “See you tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow. Work. Yeah.”

“Yeah,” you echo.

You can see people walking into the station in your peripheral vision, the world continuing to go on despite the standstill you're in. Your eyes don't leave her as you both hesitate, neither of you wanting to leave. You're both just standing awkwardly, looking at each other.

You can't help but look at her with fondness. She's not even doing anything, just standing in front of you, and you still think that she's the most beautiful person in the world.

You watch her smile in response, and you have the urge to reach out, wanting to pull her back into you.

“Guess I should…” her voice trails off, and she makes a gesture with her hand. “Subway time.”

“Yeah…” you say softly, “Subway time.”

She doesn't move, though. Neither of you do.

Her eyes flit between the tunnel and you, and she gnaws at her lower lip. “You should, uh…” she begins, “...go.”

“Yeah, I should…” You should. You know you should. You should pedal back to your apartment, maybe do some dishes, and go to bed. You have class tomorrow, and Jinx is going into the subway. 

But you take a step forward. She looks at the ground. “Are you... are you going to hug me?”

“Should I?”

She shrugs. “I don't know. Do you... want to?”

“I could be convinced.”

She rolls her eyes but smiles anyway. “Yeah? you could be convinced, huh? what would it take for you to agree then?”

You tap your chin with your index finger, pretending to think. It's not like you need to put much thought into it. “I don't know. A few hundred bucks? A fancy dinner? Maybe a yacht?”

She smacks your arm with a huff and a glare. “You aren't taking this seriously.”

“Oh-” you say, clutching the fake wound, “You're brutal. I'm wounded, I'm injured-”

She crosses her arms and gives you a deadpan look. With a laugh, you step forward and wrap your arms around her waist. Her arms immediately slide over your shoulders as she burrows herself into your neck.

You breathe in her scent, closing your eyes. Your chin rests on her shoulder comfortably, and you feel her fingers slide into your hair.

“Just one more second,” she whispers.

You nuzzle her neck in response, and her fingers tighten around the back of your head. Her breath ghosts against your ear, and you swallow, feeling the goosebumps rise on the back of your neck.

You could stay like this with her for an eternity. On the sidewalk in front of the subway entrance. You could take turns leaning on her shoulder.

But the world doesn't work like that, and your moment is being watched by a few strangers walking in the entrance. She pulls back just far enough to be able to look at you but still holds onto you. 

Her hands cup your cheeks, and you find yourself staring at each other for a few seconds, her face lit up by the orange glow of a nearby streetlamp.

She's looking at you, you're looking at her, and the world hasn't collapsed. Her eyes trail over every feature, and you wonder if she sees you the same way too—if she finds each piece of you as beautiful as you do of her.

She brushes her thumb lightly over your cheek and the corner of her lips twitches into a smile. Her smile widens as she looks at you, showing the slight gap between her two front teeth, and it's- it's… 

You blink, feeling your knees grow weak, you can almost hear the sound of wedding bells and wonder if you've just found the closest thing to heaven on earth.

She presses a light kiss to your nose. “See you, partner,” she murmurs. She takes hold of your chin with one hand and presses another kiss to the corner of your mouth.

“See you,” you repeat. You can't help but smile, a bit dumbly.

She stares at you for a second longer before finally letting go of your chin and stepping back. You try to memorize every detail of her as she walks backward. “Call me when you get home, 'kay?” she says.

You nod. “Okay”

She stops in the subway entrance and offers a small wave.

You wave back, but you keep waving even after she disappears into the tunnel. You keep waving, even after the last of her is gone, until you're just standing there like a fool, waving goodbye to the empty subway entrance. You realize just how dumb you look, waving to nothing, and finally drop your hand.

You tear your eyes away and stare at the bike that sits abandoned on the sidewalk, waiting for you. You finally pick up the kickstand and grab the handles, starting to pedal.

You think about tomorrow.

Tomorrow is when you're going to deal with shitty customers in the shitty city. 

Tomorrow is her smile as she hands you your cup, making your day before it even starts.

Tomorrow is drinking a matcha latte, a drink you used to hate, but now you look forward to it, because she makes it.

Tomorrow is her arm around your waist as you take her to the subway.

Tomorrow is her pulling away and saying, “See you, partner.”

Tomorrow with her… and it's almost as if, for the first time, you don't dread tomorrow.

[tkwrites]

Hurt & Healing - Quinn Hughes x OFC

(Really, this whole gif set fits the mood for this fic)

Title: Hurt & Healing - Quinn Hughes x ofc

Author: Tory / @tkwrites 

Relationship: Quinn Hughes x Sarah Roberts

Summary: When Quinn loses his temper and snaps at Sarah after a hard loss, she draws a previously discussed boundary. Upon realizing something definitely has to change, Quinn seeks out comfort and advice from his mom. The next morning, he and Sarah talk about why she’s so upset and what they both can do to make the situation better. 

Warnings: Highly emotional angst, swearing, slightly suggestive at the end. Quinn going to his parents for advice/help, intense discussions. Though the title makes it feel this way, it’s not really a hurt/comfort fic. It’s more of a hurt/lets talk it out and figure out how we can both be better fic. 

Word Count: 6,000

Comments: I live! This piece has been eating at me for almost six months, and I’m so happy to share it with you all. I had it mostly done for quite a while but kept getting pulled into working on other things. Then, life happened. 

I know it’s taken me so long to post a new snapshot, but I’m so excited for you to read it. 

If you enjoyed this, please let me know by commenting, reblogging, or sending in an ask. Your encouragement and comments truly inspire me to keep writing. 

I love Quinn and Sarah, and I’m constantly blown away that so many of you love them, too. More snapshots here.

Asks related to this piece can be found under the Quinn & Sarah Snapshots hashtag (there are too many, and they're too long to include in this post). 

Hurt & Healing

A Quinn & Sarah Snapshot

“I can’t Sarah, okay?” Quinn snapped.

As soon as the words were out of his mouth, he knew they were wrong. It wasn’t even this particular order of them. Strung together in this same way but spoken in a gentler tone, no one would have blinked an eye. 

As it was, with his voice so sharp, clipped and loud, she took a step back, expressions of disappointment, hurt and even a brief flash of fear flitted over her face as a sheen of tears pooled in her eyes, reflecting the city lights shining through the windows.

Fuck, they’d talked about this. Why couldn't he get his shit together? 

Instantly, regret gnawed at him, and the gusto dropped from his voice, “Sarah, I’m sorry.” 

Pursing her lips, she shook her head and turned away. 

He watched her ascend the metal and glass stairs, her socked feet hardly making any noise, feeling totally helpless. 

When she disappeared from sight, he covered his face with his hands. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.” On top of a terrible game, now he’d lost it and shot himself in the foot at home. Again. 

Well, there was only one thing for it. 

Feeling like his feet were encased in cement, he dragged himself up the stairs. He wasn’t surprised to see the bedroom door closed. What he didn’t expect was to find it locked when he tried the handle.

“Sarah?” 

Even though he could hear her moving on the other side, she didn’t respond. 

“I’m sorry,” he said, resting his forehead against the cool wood. “Please can I come in?” 

“No.” Despite trying to sound convincing, Sarah still heard her voice wobble. 

 Resigned, Quinn tried to swallow the sudden lump in his throat as he reset his mental expectations to sleeping in the guest room.

She’d told him this would be the consequence. After he’d snapped at her the third time, she’d sat him down to talk. She told him she understood why he was upset, but she didn’t deserve to be on the receiving end of his anger. 

He’d agreed right away and apologized profusely. He promised her it wouldn’t happen again. She told him she wanted to believe him and then told him what the consequences would be if this particular set of circumstances repeated themselves. Mainly that Sarah would likely pull away from him for a while. 

He just hadn’t believed she would have to go through with it. He’d been certain it wouldn’t happen again. He loved Sarah and never wanted to see her hurt. She didn’t deserve to be on the receiving end of his frustration. Especially when what he was really mad at were the circumstances, and not anyone in particular, especially not her.

“Could you at least hand me some pajamas?” 

“There are clean clothes in the laundry.” It was a rude, harsh thing to say, but she didn’t feel much like being nice at the moment. It’s not like he’d tried to be nice to her. Not really. He hadn’t even made it five minutes.

She’d watched the game and saw how dejected he was at the end. How he’d sat at the end of the bench much longer than anyone else, staring at the sheet of ice as if it somehow might tell him what had gone wrong. She’d made her way home and changed, readying herself to comfort him after his grueling media duties — forced to relive the loss and the reality of an unhealthy roster over and over and over again. She planned to meet him with a bottle of gatorade, open arms, and whatever comfort show he wanted to watch as she held him.  

Instead he’d snapped at her. And it had felt like a punch to the gut. She’d actually thought he’d been listening, that he’d been taking steps to change.

The reality of his failure twisted like a knife. 

Oh, he’d really fucked this one. 

“Sarah,” he tried one last time, voice suddenly thick with unshed tears. His hands floated up to press into the door as if she might be on the other side, mimicking his motions, longing to touch him as much as he was longing to touch her. “I'm really sorry. I know you were counting on me, and I let you down.”

She sighed, feeling like they were going around in circles. These were nearly the same words he’d used the week before. “Quinn, we can’t keep doing this.” 

“I know.” Her words sent panic spiking in his chest. Please, no. She couldn’t be done. He didn’t know what he’d do if she broke up with him. Life was hard enough right now. He couldn’t lose her on top of everything else. “I can do so much better. I promise I'll be better. Please let me in.” 

Please, please, please. 

Rooted to her spot several steps back from the door, Sarah put a hand over her mouth to stifle the sound of her crying. He sounded so hurt, so disappointed in himself. She never wanted him to be in pain, but that didn’t negate the reality that she needed to stand her ground. They’d talked about this, and still, as soon as the next bad game happened – which, as usual, wasn’t his fault – he was bringing it home with him. Their talks obviously weren’t working. So, like a disobedient child, he needed to be put in time out to think about what he’d done. Even if it broke her heart, too.  

Jenny had warned her how hard keeping a boundary would be at first. “In the long run, though,” she’d said at their last session, “it’s the best way to make sure he understands he can’t hurt you like this again.” 

Her silence had anxiety taking hold of his mind, and his voice broke when he said her name. “Sarah?”

“Let’s talk about it in the morning, Q.” 

Hands slipping from the door, Quinn stood there, leaning on it for a minute longer until he heard Sarah’s soft footsteps retreat toward the bed. Looking back, he supposed he should have been relieved she was already thinking about the morning, but in the moment, it felt like a punch to the gut. The last thing he wanted right now was to spend the night away from her.

He wanted to punch a wall, he was so stupid. He wanted to run through reps of any exercise until the pain of this went away. He wanted anything to distract himself, but he’d been alive long enough to know that would only prolong the situation. And the last thing he wanted was to make this pain persist any longer. It was time for him to man up about it. 

Flopping onto the (not so) lucky couch, he pulled out his phone and called the only person he thought could help. 

It was too late to be calling, nearly two in the morning where they were, but she answered anyway, just like he’d hoped she would.

“Hello?” her words were slightly slurred with sleep. 

“Hey mom,” he said, emotion flooding his voice at the sound of hers.

“Quinn? what’s wrong?” Though her mind was fuzzy, Ellen immediately sat up, dusting away the last cobwebs of sleep. The panic of being called in the night by a distressed child rung her heart. Even after 25 years, it never got any easier.

“I think I fucked it.” 

“What are you talking about?” she asked as she reached over to flip on the bedside lamp. He’d had a rough game, but those weren’t usually grounds for middle of the night phone calls. Especially not to her.

Quinn tipped his head back and blinked, trying not to cry. Fuck it. His mom had seen him cry before. Tears slipped into the hair at his temples. “I think I fucked it,” he repeated, before adding the worst, most painful, gut wrenching part, “with Sarah.” 

“What’s going on, sweetheart?” she asked, to mask the gasp that crawled up her throat. It wasn’t that she thought Quinn and Sarah would never fight. She knew all too well what it took to make a relationship work, but she thought this call would be a lot less dramatic when it came. 

“We had a fight.” 

Jim rolled over and blinked a few times. “It’s Quinn. He and Sarah had a fight,” she whispered before speaking into the phone again, “What kind of a fight?” 

Jim blinked himself awake, remembering those first scary arguments with Ellen, when he thought he was going to lose her, and worried he might somehow lose himself, too. 

“We –” No, that wasn't right, This was his fault. “I snapped at her,” he confessed. 

“Okay,” her voice was hesitant and confused in his ear.

He'd have to confess all of it. She couldn’t help solve the problem if she didn’t know everything. “It's happened before.”

“The snapping?”

Jim pursed his lips. He had a feeling he knew where this was going. He gestured to the phone.

Ellen nodded, reluctantly putting it on speaker so he could hear and offer advice, too. As much as she wanted to be the hero, she knew Jim would have some good insight into the situation. 

“Yeah. We talked about it last week. I snapped after that San Jose loss, and she told me she didn't deserve that.”

At least they both could agree on that. 

“She told me it couldn't happen anymore. That I…” his voice broke, “that I couldn't take my frustration out on her.”

“I think that's very fair and warranted,” Ellen said, trying to gauge where they were in this story. 

“Yeah,” he agreed. “But tonight,” his throat constricted with the memory, and he had to clear it. “I snapped again tonight. I was just so frustrated from the loss, and…” he trailed off, knowing it was no excuse. 

“Hmm.”

“And she locked me out.”

“Of the house?” 

“No. Out of our room.”

“I'm guessing it happened before San Jose, too?” she ventured. Sarah was too level headed for this to be the reaction to it only happening once before. 

“Yeah.” It came out a resigned sigh. She knew him too well. 

“Quinn,” she admonished, not quite able to hide the disappointment in her voice. 

“I know.” 

“Quinn?” Jim broke in, his voice far more gentle than he was used to. 

“Hey dad.”  It felt somehow worse that his dad was hearing this. 

“You need to find some way to let that frustration out before you go home. I used to scream on my drive sometimes. I know Bobby used to stop at the gym and run a mile on bad game nights.”

“Your dad snapped at me sometimes,” Ellen said, looking at Jim. He gave her a chagrined, guilty smile. “And I know hockey. I've played. I know that frustration when things don’t go your way, or the team doesn’t play their best first hand. It hurt me, but I knew the reason why and I could talk to him about it. I can't imagine what it's like for Sarah without that background. I know she golfs, but it’s not quite the same when you’re not on a team.”

The more they talked the guiltier and more hopeless he felt. “What do I do?”

“Well, you've got to apologize.”

“I did that.”

“No, I mean really apologize,” Ellen clarified. “An apology is acknowledging exactly what you did wrong and not doing it again.”

“Tell her what you're going to try to make sure you don't bring it home,” Jim suggested

“And don't do any big gestures,” Ellen said. “I know it can feel like a romantic thing, but I don't think Sarah likes things like that.”

He knew she didn't. She wanted real, measurable change and a real, honest conversation. It's a product of the dead parents. Life's too short to not have the conversation. 

“What if she…” he broke off, too scared to say it out loud. 

“Everything I know about Sarah tells me she’s not a quitter,” Ellen said, reading right through his subtext. “Just explain what you're going to do and then do it.” 

“Give her some action items,” Jim added on. “And tell her you’re sorry.”

“Ask her why it's so upsetting to her,” Ellen suggested. 

“I know why.”

“Quinn,” she admonished. 

He shut up. 

“You need to ask her how it made her feel. As much as it may feel like you do, you don’t know everything about her. You haven’t even been dating a whole year, bud.”

“It’s never a good idea to assume you know everything about her,” Jim said. “Trust me, I learned that lesson the hard way.” 

He and Ellen shared a nostalgic smile, and he knew they were both remembering the first few years of their relationship where he’d really learned the meaning of the phrase, ‘when you assume, it makes an ass out of you and me.’

 “Sarah doesn’t strike me as the kind of girl that holds a grudge.”

“No,” Quinn agreed. 

“You haven't been calling me on your drives home,” Jim said. He’d been hesitant to bring it up before when he wondered why Quinn had stopped. It seemed so out of character for him.  

“Yeah.” He thought talking with Sarah was enough. Maybe he needed both. 

“I'm happy to talk it out,” he said. “If you need to get some things off your chest.” 

“Thanks dad. I think I do.” 

“I’m happy to talk through anything, too,” Ellen added. She knew Quinn didn’t always want to talk shop with her, but they talked about other things. “Relationships are hard, Q. You have to learn and grow together. If you don’t, it’ll never last.” 

These were things Quinn knew in the logical part of his brain, but experiencing it first hand was something totally different. 

“I know Sarah doesn’t tolerate bullshit,” his mom said, her voice soft as though she was trying to be gentle with the harsh statement, “and I know that’s one of the things you love about her.” 

Was he really that transparent? 

“But that means she’s not willing to tolerate your bullshit, either.” 

It was this - this concise razor of a summary that cut him deepest. He did love that Sarah didn’t tolerate subpar things in her life. She was exceptional, and if someone or something wasn’t meeting the standard she set, she wouldn’t hesitate to turn away from them. He just never thought he’d fall into that category. 

“So you’re going to have to grow. Learn how to better communicate your needs. Including if you need some time to yourself to process.”

“Okay.” 

A pocket of quiet passed over the phone line, and he heard his mom yawn. A fountain of gratitude gushed in his chest for her and for his dad. He did feel better after confessing and hearing that his parents dealt with these same things and still had a happy life together.

“Thanks for answering, mom,” he said, emotion shaking his voice again.

“Oh, Quinn,” she said, picking up the phone and taking it off speaker. It was a selfish move on her part. She knew that. But it was so rare for her boys to call her, to reach out to her first, that she wanted to savor this one as her own.“I'll help whenever I can. I love you.” It wasn't often that her boys needed her now. She would take the chance whenever it was given. 

“I love you, too, mom.” Worry and gratitude were still thick in his chest, but it felt a little easier to bear, a little more like something he could handle.  

“Are you going to be okay?”

He sighed a deep breath through his nose, “I think so. I'll talk to Sar in the morning.” At least he had a game plan. Or the start of one.

“I’m glad you called, bud.”

“Thanks mom. I'm glad you answered.” 

“Anytime. Love you, Quinn.”

“Love you too, mom. Thanks.”

“Of course. Good night, bud.”

“Night, mom.”

Keeping the phone pressed to her ear, Ellen waited until the line went dead before lowering it back into her lap. Only then did she glance at Jim. 

Just as she expected, his arms were crossed over his chest, a slight pout to his lips.

“They hardly ever call me anymore,” she reminded, reaching over to soothe the pad of her thumb over the furrow in his brow. 

His shoulders slumped almost immediately. “I know,” he said, resigned as his arms unwound. He knew feeling like she took the conversation away when Quinn had called her in the first place was selfish. He was just so used to being the one Quinn called to solve problems. When he allowed himself to think about it objectively, he knew Ellen was the better of the two of them to give advice on this particular matter. 

“I’m sorry,” he said. 

A chuckle fell from her lips. “That sounded like it hurt. Are you okay?” 

Jim laughed good naturedly, “Yeah. Come on, let’s go back to sleep.” 

Ellen flipped off the lamp and settled back into bed. 

“You’re a good mom,” he said, one of his big hands pressing steadily into her back. 

She fell back to sleep, hoping everything would be okay. 

The next morning, Sarah cut her routine short, only brushing her teeth instead of doing her usual shower and skincare. She didn’t want to put off talking to Quinn any longer than she had to.  

Walking through the upstairs, she wondered where he was. He hadn’t been in the guest bedroom - in fact, it didn’t look like he'd gone in that room at all other than to take a pillow from the bed. He wasn’t on the couch, either. Though the hasty way her favorite blanket was strewn over the back of it suggested that’s where he’d spent the night. 

He didn’t have practice until 10. And it was only eight-thirty. She’d been a little harsh the night before, but she didn’t think he’d been upset enough to leave. He hadn't yelled or stormed out in a huff. Plus, Quinn wasn't one to run away from his problems. He usually preferred to face them head on, in the most efficient way possible.

Thoughts were still racing through her mind when her eyes caught on his face. He was waiting at the bottom of the stairs, holding two mugs of coffee, a hopeful, unsure quirk to his lips. 

Heart hammering in his chest, Quinn watched Sarah descend the stairs. God, even right after waking up, she was still beautiful. Her hair was piled in a messy bun atop her head, and she was wearing one of his hoodies. The sight of her in his clothes turned his heart into a delicate, flighty bird, fluttering inside his chest. 

Most of his night was spent restlessly tossing and turning on the couch. After he'd dug some clothes out of the laundry and changed, he'd gone into the guest room. It felt too unfriendly with its new sheets and bedding that Sarah had never slept in. There was no way he could sleep in there. Instead, he'd filched one of the pillows and gone back to the lucky couch. That, at least housed good memories, and he'd napped on it more than once. It was practically the size of a bed anyway.

Anytime he'd managed to fall asleep, anxiety over what was going to happen in the morning jolted him awake. It was only after he retrieved her favorite blanket from the gaming room that he managed to fall asleep. Its familiar weight and the lingering ghost of her perfume surrounded him in a comforting cocoon.

“Hey, can we talk?” he asked, willing his voice to be calm and smooth. The words still felt too rushed, too harsh in his mouth. He knew what he had to do, but that didn't make it any easier. The potential for this conversation to end badly swirled in his mind. 

“Okay,” she said hesitantly as she stepped off the bottom stair. Quinn was watching her, his expression unreadable. One second he seemed guarded, the next, full of hope. None of them stuck around long enough for her to fully decipher how he was feeling.

Following him to the living room, she took the seat across from him on the leather sofa rather than her customary one in the club chair next to his. The gesture told him more about how she was feeling than anything else. 

When she looked down at the mug he slid across the coffee table to her, she kept her expression guarded. A cup of coffee was a sweet gesture, but surely, he didn’t think this would solve their issues. 

“Let me know if I put too much creamer in there,” he said, almost wincing at how nervous he sounded. He hadn’t felt this nervous around Sarah in months. Actually, he wasn’t sure he’d ever felt this nervous around Sarah. “I tried to get the right color, but I’m not sure I did.” 

The smile that ghosted over her lips made his sappy, hopeful heart slam itself into his ribs. 

She took a sip and couldn’t stop the grimace that took over her mouth. 

“Too much?” he asked, regret stabbing his stomach. He couldn’t even get her morning coffee right. 

He’d woken up long before she did, and upon realizing he was staring longingly at their bedroom door as if it might unlock by the sheer force of his will, he went down to the kitchen. Thirty minutes passed before he heard her moving around. When he heard the water in the bathroom shut off, he knew she was finished washing her face and would be down soon. It was then that he’d brewed them each a cup. Breakfast seemed like it might be too big of a gesture, but her morning cup of coffee felt right.

Seeing the despairing look on his face, she almost didn’t say anything. But there was no way she could force herself into drinking this. “Not quite enough,” she admitted finally. “It’s a little bitter.” 

“Oh,” Relief swept through him. At least he didn’t have to brew her another cup. “I’ll get the creamer.” 

He jumped to his feet as if his chair had shocked him, and Sarah admired his muscular calves as he jogged to the kitchen. He’d dug some Canucks shorts out of the clean laundry Sandra had returned the day before. 

Handing it to her, he sat down again and watched her pour another dollop into her mug. 

She took a sip, and the corners of her mouth tipped up in satisfaction.

“So, we can talk?” he asked, leaning to catch her eye. 

“Of course.” She was never going to tell him they couldn’t talk. Though now, she worried her reaction last night may have been too strong. Maybe she’d been too harsh on him. 

“I —” Quinn paused, not quite sure where to start. He supposed he should start by taking his moms advice. “I’m sorry, Sarah.”

Snapping out of her own thoughts, Sarah’s eyes darted from her mug of coffee up to his face. He wore an anguished expression she usually only saw when he misfired a pass or didn’t get a goal he thought he should have. 

“I know we talked about me not snapping at you - about not taking my frustration out on you, and I did it anyway, and I’m really sorry.” 

Part of her wanted to tell him it was okay just to get that pained look off of his face. But it wasn’t okay. 

“Thank you,” she said instead. 

“I’m sorry I let you down.” 

A weight settled in her chest. What could she say to that? This was always the worst part about having conversations like this. She didn’t want him to be upset, but she also knew she deserved to get her needs met. It was a strange balance to strike, and she felt like she was always missing the mark. 

“Quinn,” she said, her voice gentle. It was soothing to his ears, like maybe he hadn’t completely fucked himself over. “I —” 

He was looking at her with all this hope in his eyes, and as much as she wanted to nurture it, she knew in the long run, coddling wouldn’t help. If this relationship was going to work, things needed to change.

Taking a deep breath, she tried to find the right balance between firm and loving. She thought about how her mom used to correct her. Even though it had happened often when she was a teen, Sarah had never not felt loved by her. 

In the end, she decided truth was the best course of action. “You did let me down.” 

The hope crashed from his eyes, and she bit back her instinct to take it back. She hated having to make him feel this way. 

He’d known it was the truth, but hearing it from her mouth hurt more. It hit hard, knocking the wind out of him. “I’m sorry.” The words came out flighty, breathy things. He cleared his throat and tried again, “I’m really sorry, Sarah.”

“I know you’re sorry, but you really hurt me, Quinn, and I’m not really sure you understand why.” 

He gulped and ran a nervous hand through his hair, pushing the curls back. “Can you tell me?”

In past relationships, when her exes asked for her to be honest, it often ended up being thrown back in her face. Her expectations were too high or unrealistic, or “this is just the way I am, Sarah.” As soon as these conversations happened in the past, she knew it was time to move on. Fear of hearing this response again bubbled in her stomach. She really didn’t want to have to move on from Quinn. 

“Please. I need to know so I can get better.”

That was new. 

Reminding herself that Quinn had proved again and again that he was nothing like her exes, she went ahead, figuring she may as well lay it all out. He’d proved her wrong so many times, she hoped he was about to do it again. “I was ready to listen and cuddle and hold you,” Sarah said, “and instead, you threw it back in my face like you didn’t even care.”

Quinn opened his mouth to argue that he didn’t throw anything in her face, then remembered his moms admonishment. You don’t know everything about her as much as it may feel like you do. “What do you mean?” 

Sarah just looked at him. 

“I don’t know what you mean by I threw it back in your face,” he admitted. 

“I mean that I was trying to comfort you, and you just exploded,” she said. Her blue eyes shimmered with tears. “I understand you might need something different, but I can’t know what you don’t tell me. And getting mad when I do it wrong doesn’t help anything.”

His heart cracked in half. Instinctually, he abandoned his seat, and the coffee that had long gone lukewarm in front of it, to sit next to her on the sofa. He was insanely grateful when she didn’t lean back or move away. “You didn’t do anything wrong, Sarah.”

“Then…” she was so confused, “why were you mad?” 

His mom was right. She just didn’t understand. 

“I was mad about the game.” 

“Right, but then you got mad at me.” 

“I –” he cut himself off to gather his thoughts. God, how did he explain this? “I was so frustrated about the game, and then I came home and I thought… I thought you wanted me to do more, and I just - I lost my temper, and snapped, and I’m sorry.”

“You thought I wanted you to do more by asking you to cuddle?”

“I know it sounds stupid.” 

“No,” she cut that thought off. Him brushing off his feelings to make her more comfortable wouldn’t get them anywhere. “Tell me why you thought I wanted you to do more.” 

He closed his eyes. He never wanted to tell Sarah she was wrong. But she was also asking. 

“I came in and you started giving orders,” he explained, “you just started going into ‘go get changed, and get us a blanket and pick out something to watch,’ and I just couldn’t.” Now that he was saying it out loud, he realized how much her requests had affected him. 

“Oh,” her face fell. “Quinn, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize. I didn’t mean to make you feel like you needed to do those things right then or that you needed to make all those decisions. I just wanted to let you know I was here for you.” 

“No, you did, it just…wasn’t what I needed.” 

“Quinn, I’m sorry.” Her eyes met his, and he could see guilty tears shining in them.

“I’m sorry,” he said. This was supposed to be him apologizing. “I shouldn’t have brought my frustration home. I was talking with my parents last night and –”

“Is that why your mom texted me this morning asking how I was?” 

“I don’t – I mean, I guess so.” 

She shook her head, “I’m sorry, I interrupted.” 

“It’s okay,” he couldn’t remember what he’d been saying. 

“You were talking with your parents,” she prompted. 

“Right. I was talking with them last night, and I realized I haven’t been calling my dad after games.”

“Okay.” 

“I used to call him after every game, especially the bad ones, to talk through stuff.”

“Why did you stop?” 

“I had you,” he said. “We would talk, and you would hold me, and I'd feel better.” Sarah waited for him to continue, so he did, “but I think I might need both.” 

The way he said it made it sound like he shouldn't. 

“Quinn”, she said as gently as she could, reaching forward to cup his face. He leaned into her touch. “Of course you need both.” 

His gaze shot to hers, surprised.

“I’d never expect to fulfill all of your needs. ‘It takes a village’ isn't just something people say about raising kids. It's for everyone. You need a whole village of people around you. We’re not meant to be islands.”

Her thumb stroked over his cheek, and something in his chest knitted back together. 

“I don't understand hockey the way your parents or your brothers do. Of course you should talk to them about it.”

He sighed, nodding. “I realized after we hung up last night that talking with dad really helped me sort through those feelings, and when I stopped, it…” he paused, trying to find the right words, “it’s like they just built up.” 

Sarah let out an understanding sigh, “Jenny tells me all the time that when we don’t address our emotions, they come out sideways.” 

“I’m sorry my sideways meant all over you.” 

A ghost of a smile crossed her mouth, “I’m just glad you figured out what was going on.” 

“Me too,” he said, relieved. 

An almost comfortable pause settled into their conversation. Her hand was still on his face, and though her fingers were cold, he never wanted her to pull away. 

“So, now that you know what’s going on, what are we going to do about it?” she asked. 

“We?” he repeated. The use of the word in that statement wasn’t lost on him. It amazed him she was still willing to work with him on their relationship, even when he’d fucked up so bad. 

Something in her face softened, “there are two of us in this, Quinn. If it’s going to work, we have to work together.”

“Well, I’m going to talk to my dad after games,” he said. “That might mean I get home a little later.” 

“Okay,” she agreed, “that’s not a big deal.” 

Having his needs accepted and supported so readily made Quinn’s heart skip in his chest. A feeling of calm spread all the way to his fingers, which he laced with hers. 

“Can I ask you to do something for me?” 

Quinn’s eyes flicked from their joined hands up to her face, “anything.” He meant it. Sleeping on the couch had been torture when he knew he was there because he’d hurt her. He never wanted to be in that position again. 

Even more than from his guilt, though, he wanted to be better because she was responding in a way he’d never experienced before. With June, an argument like this would have ended with her storming out of the house, yelling that it was over, only for her to come back a few days later, wanting to try again. Sarah’s loving, steady response made him want to change, made him want to be better. 

“If you want something different than what I’m suggesting, you need to tell me. I’m not a mind reader.” 

Cringing at himself internally, he nodded. “I can try.” 

It was better than nothing, but it wasn’t the response Sarah had been hoping for. 

Her feelings must have shown on her face because he jumped to explain, voice squeaking as his words tumbled over each other, “it’s just that sometimes after games —” he cut himself off. He shouldn’t be asking her for things. This was supposed to be his apology, his commitment to change.

“After games?” she encouraged. 

Well, he was in this deep, he might as well just say it. “Sometimes after a rough game, I’m just…tired,” he admitted. She looked confused, so he continued, “when I lived by myself, I usually just got in bed and read whatever book I was in because it meant I didn’t have to make any decisions.” 

“I wish you’d told me this before,” she said, raising her head and looking into his eyes. It struck her how green they were. Usually, they looked mostly hazel. Today, they reminded her of the leaves on her grandmas beechwood tree. 

“I’m sorry,” he rushed, pulling himself a little closer with their clasped hands. 

She shook her head a little, not so much to dismiss the apology as to end the topic. “So should I wait for you?” 

“What do you mean?” 

“After a bad game, do you want me to wait for you to make that call, or should I just keep doing  what I was doing when you get home and you can tell me if you’d rather do something different?” 

“I like the second,” he said. 

“Okay,” she nodded, feeling more settled. “You talk to your dad or whoever about the game, and when you're ready to just relax, I'll be here.” 

“What if I need to burn off some steam?” He meant for it to be a joke, but it came out serious instead. 

Her lips pursed, then relaxed. Longing sparked in his stomach. God, he wanted to kiss her every time she did that.

“I don't think it'd be wise of me to say I'll always be down, but when I am, of course I'm happy to help you burn off that steam.” It didn't hurt that when he was riled up like that, it meant he was hellbent on making her orgasm – usually more than once. 

“You just have to tell me what you want.”

He nodded. When he was with June, he got so used to pushing his wants and needs aside in an effort to keep her happy. It felt almost strange, even after nine months with Sarah, to express his needs and to have her take them into consideration so readily. 

After a few minutes of comfortable quiet, Sarah asked, “don't you have practice?”

He shook his head as his eyes fluttered open, “I messaged Tocc to tell him I couldn’t make it today. Told him I fucked something up at home and needed to make it right.”

“Oh.”

Seeing her bottom lip begin to shake, Quinn’s stomach lurched. Did she not know? He supposed he aught to tell her, just like his mom said. “Sarah, I love you,” he said, his free hand coming up to slide around the back of her neck, “You’re my top priority. I'm sorry if I made it seem otherwise.”

“Thank you,” she said, feeling emotion choke her voice. This more than anything else they'd talked about that morning told her how he was feeling and where his priorities were.

Leaning closer, he rested his forehead against hers, “I love you so much, Sar,” he said quietly. 

“I love you, too, Quinn.” 

Hearing it banished the last of his doubt. “I promise I won’t bring my frustration home.” 

That wasn’t going to help anything. “You can bring it home, Quinn. You just can’t throw it up all over me. I know you’re going to have bad days. I am, too. This,” she gestured between them to indicate the conversation, “is about what you do with it.”

He nodded, feeling emotion rock through him. “What did I ever do to deserve you?” he asked. It was a question for the broader universe. He really had no idea.

“You’re just you,” she said, a smile gently tipping the corners of her mouth. 

He only had to move slightly to slide his lips over hers. 

She made a little noise that sounded about as relieved as he felt, and unable to help himself, Quinn pulled her into his lap. 

The kiss was slow and loving. It wasn’t until Sarah slid her fingers into his hair and swept her tongue past his parted lips and trailed it along the roof of his mouth that it grew more passionate. 

The last thing he wanted was for her to think he was only focused on sex, but he was so relieved, so incredibly relieved that she was even willing to kiss him, let alone be in his lap, that his dick popped right up.

She pulled away and glanced down. 

“Sorry,” he said, cheeks blazing, “he's got a mind of his own. I spent the whole night scared you were going to break up with me, so he's just rejoicing over the fact that you didn’t.”

He wanted to bottle the giggle she let out as she leaned in to kiss him again. 

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©2025 tkwrites. I do not give consent for any of my work to be copied, re-posted or translated here, on Tumblr, or on any other platform.

[cactuskat]

At last his head poked around corner, and he saw those ruby scales... "Hm...?" Even that single hum was perfectly inhuman; melodeous, deep, it spun through the air, and washed into his ears. "Oh, it's you... my little human..." She spoke, "...I was wondering when you'd come"

"I- I'm sorry, I- know you sent for me sometime ago, I just, these halls- my lord I-" The old man began to stammer as he stumbled out, attempting to present himself more properly but- His cane escaped him-

It fell for the ground-

As was he, falling, the floor coming nearer, when-

A claw stuck out from underneath him, having him drape over it, as he (clumsily) was pushed (gracefully) back upon his feet, "Don't apologize, I don't mind it, I know how small you feet are, and anyways," She stretched out their wings, which quivered against the strain of it, "It let me close my eyes a moment"

"Ah, Yes, I, then thank you for understanding" He murmured.

The ruby beast's eyes glittered, a hummed laugh bobbing in their throat, as off in the distance, there was a sound of clattering coins. She sighed, and suddenly, that same claw had hooked itself around the elder's back, forcing him forwards.

His feet could hardly keep up from beneath him, this was happening, this is going to be it...

He was being positioned so she would have all the better aim!

He closed his eyes, so he could face this fate abandoning any traitorous fear he felt.

And then he was sat, directly into their nest.

"Here we are..." He felt no blazing flame, nor melting flesh, just, the comforting warmth of their breath, fresh against his face. "You won't be getting up, will you...?"

"I..." he cracked open an eye, finding her snout in his face, he tense, but, let his body relax moments later, "no... no, of course I wouldn't..." He promised them, because of course he wouldn't. It was going to be today, he just knew it. It had happened to ten hundred servants before him, it will happen to ten thousand after, but he had received a blessed life though, a happy life, and that was nearly entirely due to them, this radiant beast...

He owned her his life.

and in that moment, he had to laugh, he couldn't help it. The sound was soft, but insistent, high and choking, his little Adam's Apple bobbing as if it were bird that had gotten lodged in.

He owed her his life- literally, she was dued to have it! And maybe it wasn't all that funny at all, but perhaps your sense of humor breaks down along with your bones and mind. "What's this?" The dragon asked, nudging into his cheek, with that very tip of their snout.

He shook his head "Nothing, oh nothing, just... doing some reflecting, my lord" he leaned back, the gold uncomfortable beneath but, he didn't care, not what bit, here above him, there was his god, "I've lived a good life"

"I'm pleased to hear that..." the beast purred sweetly, draping the very end of their tail, over his lap, "I wouldn't want you to have a bad life" The elder man just nodded.

"You're very kind for that"

"mm..."

For a moment they sat there, in that comfortable silence, before the old beast seemed to smile. "Do you recall, that day I found you?" they asked.

He shook his head, "Only vaugely, my lord" he admitted, some sheepishness to his tone, "...I'm afraid to say it, my mind it... it drips, I fear I lose a little more of my youth's memory with every day that passes" he confessed, hoping she wouldn't take offense.

"That's quite alright, little human... I'm much the same, I can hardly tell Twenty from two hundred years ago these days..." The old man had to chuckle a bit at that as well, for how unalike the experiences were, they carried on "I remember some though... A little... You were hardly a man, just on the cusp, Frail, and fragile..."

"You had the longest, lovliest, prettiest golden hair" a claw lightly grazed the back of his head, and the man couldn't help but shrink away some, shamed, for it wasn't quite so pretty or golden anymore. More like wisps of spider's thread...

"I plucked you up, and flew you away"

"...I'd been so starved at that point, I hardly had the energy to scream" he muttered in remembrance, he couldn't remember a lot, but he remembered the fear that clutched his fresh heart of seventeen, though it had been so weak at that point.

"Yes, and I'm glad you didn't for I may have swallowed you whole if you had," she sighed, "and I would be so sad today if I had, for then I would have never I taken you to my hoard, nor placed you atop the pile, and stroke your lovely, long, lockes..." they murmured on. "I could have done that for a millennia" that claw coming down again through those whispy strands.

"You fed me good food..." The man himself recalled, licking his dried lips, as he remembered vague memories of pork and steak like he'd never tried before.

"And you became so strong, my little human, your eyes were so bright..." Because he soon came to realize he was looking up into the face of an angel, or god... "Aaand you became so energized." She sighed "And you refused to stay." She tapped the back of his skull lightly "in." tap "one" tap "place" and she laughed, and so did he. Today he hardly knew where he got the energy, to be so active, to move so much "Always wanted to do something, 'can I move this for you?' 'how about I check at the perimeter for you?' 'the others are doing so much, there must be something I can do'"

"You saved my life, my lord," the withered man huffed insistently, "I had to do something–"

"and that's exactly as you said" The dragon Began to laugh again, and, well so did the man, so much so that he was coughing into his hand towards the end, and the dragon gently pat his back to help it along "Oh, it was so cute, how much you wanted to be of service, I had to let you"

The beast sighed, "So you went away, and you went about my hoard, and fell in among the servants"

But not really, the man recalled, that was something easy to remember, there was always some sort of disconnect, between him and the others, one he didn't entirely understand. They gave him odd looks when he spoke of their master, they grew distant from him... That didn't matter though, he had his work.

He had purpose... A purpose he was losing...

...He was withering, and that was practically already broken, for what could a man do, what purpose could he serve in a state when he could hardly haul a chest, not even dragging it behind himself, when he couldn't run about and be quick on these fragile legs. When he couldn't even help in the kitchens, with these shaking hands.

"I kept you, but I hardly got to have have you..." The dragon rested their head beside him, though she still looked down at him. He nestled forward, her eyes crinkled.

"I had a duty to preform" The man rusted pridefully. "I was your servant"

"no" The dragon answered simply, making the man push himself up in confusion, his back already crackling from it, he himself already groaning, all so he could fix the Ruby Beast with a look of total confusion. They seemed unphased, they even chuckled "You were never my servant, you never had any obligation to be anything, but mine"

The old man simply sat, staring at the beast, reeling for what she had just said, "What do you...?" Nearly his entire life, dedicated singularly to this great duty, and- it meant nothing. "So, it was all nothing...? I really had no use....?"

"My little human," she saw those crystalline tears, forming at the tips of his eyes, she took her claw, and gently caught what few she could "No human has use, of course you wouldn't," and the man's heart sunk further, before her voice pierced his ear "other than the one you assigned yourself, and what a wonderful use it was, for how much I could see, it made you smile..."

Perhaps that should give him some satisfaction then... But still he couldn't help but think "and I'm losing it. I've- expired, it's ended, I'm hardly capable of my use anymore- I, I deserve to be charred then- singed, like the others, if I can't fufill it, why am I here? What do I do-" but she cut him off.

"and who says that you have no more use...?" She asked, and they looked at him "Who says you've expired?" and very gently she pushed him down, back against the gold. She took her talon under his neck, and unfurled the hair that had stuck beneath "I still see, a perfectly good human, a perfectly perfect human"

"My little human, with the pretty, golden hair"

and the dragon began to stroke, the tips of her claws threading through his hair, spinning it about her claws

"It's not so gold anymore..."

"Well... Silver's all the same to me"

and the old man, looked up at her, and his eyes began to close, the old, familiar, rythmic motion, passing him over, and maybe... maybe silver was all the same...

The human servant knew he should've been incinerated by his dragon master. He had outlived his usefulness, after all... it's a mystery as to why the dragon hasn't killed him already.

[revelboo]

Heyo! Today is my birthday dude! Ended up getting a bumblebee camaro and oh my god i am in love! Could i request either more cyclonus and tailgate or another earthspark soundwave? (i cannot get enough of ES soundwave lmao)

Happy birthday!

Son Of A Gun Pt 8

Earthspark Soundwave x Reader

• Stomach growling, you’re not sure how long you’ve been working in silence aside from his growled orders, but you’re exhausted. Eyes blurry and hungry. How long has it been since you’ve eaten? Slept? In this back room shut away from the cassettes, there’s no real sense of day or night. But your head is pounding. Maybe that’s Soundwave’s new plan. Work you to death. Fumbling and dropping a part, you accidentally bang your head on the device bending to reach for the part. And then just stay there, so frustrated and tired and sick to your stomach that you just can’t.

• “This next,” he growls, extending the tiny part pinched between his servos. And you don’t take it from him. Stiffening, he turns his stare your way and vents. You’re just slumped over, head against the converter, eyes closed, an arm dangling and the last part on the floor. “Human,” he snarls and you startle, lurching and falling to a knee. Blinking blearily around like you’re confused. Then you’re reaching for the part you’d dropped. Struggling to pick it up. Exhausted, he realizes. How long has he been working straight this time? Used to running on little more than fumes and determination, but apparently you aren’t able to.

• Once you’re down, you can’t make yourself get back up and you wait for him to lose his temper. To snarl at you. Slumping against the device, with your back to him, your skin crawls expecting pain. And you flinch when he curls his servos around you, lifting you. Too tired to resist, you just drape yourself against his hand. Every little ache and pain making themselves known as your head turns to stare up at that visor. “Sorry,” you manage. Need food and water. Rest. Because right now? You’re useless.

• How long can humans go without fuel? Why didn’t you say something before? Venting in annoyance, he slides a servo against you, feeling your heart beating. Just staring up at him, limp and docile in his hands. “Little fool,” he growls and your eyes shut. What use are you to him if you die? Rumbling his annoyance, it’s only because he still needs those small hands to get into little places. That’s the only reason he cares if you live or die. You’re still the enemy. Still a threat.

• Head pounding, you realize he’s carrying you to the main living area of their hideout where the cassettes are. Too tired to argue or resist when he carries you to them and bends to dump you on the ground near Frenzy. Not dropping you at least. Glaring down at you as the cassettes approach, worried, you just stare back at him before closing your eyes. Food can wait, you’re more sick with the headache than hungry at this point. Just want to sleep. Feel Ravage nudge you with her head before Frenzy is hauling you up by an arm and it feels like she’s going to pull it out of the socket. “Let me sleep. Please,” you protest as you’re manhandled by them, but the words must come out as a low groan. And there’s no resisting them.

Previous

[22ayla21]

Hiii I just read your pregnancy fic and it was amazing✨️ so I wanted to request a fic about their reaction to reader giving birth if you don't mind ( ￣▽￣)

First Birth

Their reaction to their wife's first birth

Mydei is used to keeping himself under control, but for the first time in his life he feels like he is losing control of the situation. He is used to protecting her from enemies, from conspiracies, but the pain she is going through is something he cannot fight. Despite his stern character, he does not leave. He is not the one who will leave her alone in a difficult moment. Even if he cannot ease her suffering, he will be there until the very end.

Outwardly, he remains cool, but inside everything is boiling. He understands too well how fragile life is, and the thought that something can go wrong drives him crazy. If even one of the doctors shows disrespect, hesitates or does something wrong, he looks at them in a way that makes their hands shake. Yes, he does not scream or make a scene, but his silent threat hangs in the air.

When the baby is finally born and his screams fill the room, the tension in his shoulders disappears. He doesn't move right away, just closes his eyes for a split second, letting the realization sink in. For the first time in a long time, he sees her so tired, so exhausted, but at the same time the most beautiful. And in that moment, he understands that no titles, no wars mean more than this moment.

When they give him the baby, he freezes at first, afraid that his hands, used to holding a weapon, might do something wrong. But when the baby barely squeaks, his heart is gone forever. He doesn't speak loudly, but his wife hears him whispering something quietly to the baby. Maybe it's a promise to protect, maybe just a word that he will never forget.

He won't say out loud that he was afraid, that he was about to burst with emotion. But his actions will speak for him: a gentle touch, carefully covering her with a blanket, a warm look that he has only for the two of them. When his wife finally falls asleep, he stays close, holding their baby in his arms. And at that moment he understands: now he has the two most precious things in the world, and he is ready to burn everything to protect them.

Anaxa is a man who is used to analyzing, planning and controlling everything. But childbirth is chaos that he cannot fully predict. He has studied everything about the process in advance, found the best doctors, prepared the ideal conditions... and still he is nervous, because this is not an area where knowledge gives complete certainty

On the surface, he remains collected and reasonable, as always. He does not panic, does not interfere with the doctors, does not make sudden movements. But his fingers may be clenched a little tighter than usual, and in the depths of his mind he carefully analyzes every sound, every movement, every change in his wife's facial expression. He understands that pain is inevitable, that childbirth is a natural process, but seeing his wife suffer is a test even for him. An inner voice insists that everything is going according to plan, but his heart sank at every cry.

Even if tradition or protocol may ask him to leave, he finds a way to stay. Perhaps he convinces the doctors that his presence is useful, or his wife simply grabs his hand and does not let go.

When she squeezes his hand so tightly that it almost breaks his bones, he doesn't even flinch. When she screams something angry (maybe even promises him a painful death), he accepts it calmly. "Yes, my love. Of course, my love. I'm not going anywhere."

The moment he hears his baby's first cry, something changes inside him. He hears that sound - loud, demanding, alive - and he knows that this is it, the miracle he's read about, pondered. This isn't just a theory. This is his baby.

When he's handed the baby for the first time, his hands automatically adjust to the fragile body. He studies every feature, peers into the face, as if scanning data, but it's more than analysis. It's acceptance. It's the realization that he now has a new responsibility, a new foothold in this world.

He may not be a man who gives grand speeches, but his gaze is enough. When he looks at his wife after all he's been through, there will be respect, gratitude, and recognition of her strength in that gaze.

Phainon, accustomed to being in control of the situation, feels completely powerless for the first time. He is used to solving problems, but now he can neither fight, nor negotiate, nor find a diplomatic solution. He paces nervously, clenches his fingers, bites his lip, trying to remain calm, but panic is visible in his eyes.

Even the thought that something could happen to her paralyzes him. He does not go far, constantly asking the doctors if everything is okay. Perhaps for the first time in his life he prays, even if he does not believe in gods, if only everything goes well. He is torn between the desire to hold her hand and the fear that his presence will only distract her. If she allows him to stay, then he endures all her cries to the last, squeezing her hand, even if she breaks his fingers.

He has lived through battles, seen destruction, but he has never heard her scream like that. It makes him turn pale, and a chill runs down his spine. He wants to help, but he knows there's nothing he can do to ease her pain, and it's killing him.

When the first baby cry is heard, he freezes abruptly. His heart skips a beat for a moment, and then a wave of relief washes over him. He exhales deeply, as if he'd been holding his breath until that moment.

As much as he longs to see his firstborn, the first thing he does is check on her. She is alive, exhausted, but smiling. Only then does he turn his attention to the child, and in that moment he is overcome with such tenderness that he forgets all his fear. He looks at the tiny creature in his arms, trying to comprehend that this is his child. The whole world ceases to exist for a moment, leaving only him, his wife, and the baby.

He gently touches the child's cheek, feels the warmth, and in that moment he makes an oath to himself - to protect his family, no matter the cost. Let Amphoraeus collapse, let the gods interfere, let the whole world turn upside down - he will not allow anything to happen to them.

Up until this moment he has held on, but now all the tension subsides, and he feels that he can barely stand on his feet. If his wife allows it, he presses her to himself, showers her forehead with kisses, whispering how strong and incredible she is. He looks at his sleeping wife and baby and realizes: he is no longer just a husband and not just a warrior. He is now a father. And even though it scares him to the core, he has never been happier.

[starwilliams]

Hi it's me again, thxx for making req rules. Ok so I have like a rlly smutty prompt so it's totes cool if ur not on board but I was thinking like a crossover? Like imo Abby is my fav but I was thinking like a sub being passed around like a blunt between Ellie, Abby, and Vi. X reader ofc, dom!Ellie, dom!Abby, and dom!vi? Thx again!

being passed around by ellie, abby and vi.

it started off as a simple evening with some friends. after meeting at that stingy lesbian bar, the one with sticky carpets and burning liquor. after a night of drunken karaoke and sloppy dancing, it was abby’s idea to hang out after being kicked out.

‘we can go back to my place. my roommate’s out at some girls house.’ she said, a smile on her face. you all nodded along, the girl with pink hair, and the face tattoo grinned while ellie, the auburn haired girl smiled softly, the more quiet of the four of you. you all drove after abby desperately, abby and ellie both in trucks, vi at the end in a motorcycle.

after arriving at abby’s apartment, you all got settled in the living area, you somehow ended up sat inbetween all of them. sipping beers turned into ellie rolling up a blunt for everyone to share. stingy? sure. hot? absolutely. she handed it to you to light first, her eyes looking you over as you lit the blunt, handing her the lighter back, her tattooed arm putting it back into her flannel pocket.

you inhaled the smoke, the smooth crackling of the blunt, you passed it onto vi, who smirked taking it from you, lulling her head back onto the couch as she breathed it out.

the records started playing, conversations rolling, all of you in a spacy giggly high. god. making new friends is fun! it seemed everyone was into one another, but that’s what you get for going to a lesbian bar on a friday night. you don’t remember exactly how abby’s hand ended up on your thigh, vi’s muscled arm around your shoulder, the way ellie was sat on the floor infront of the couch, her back against the coffee table, as you all giggled at a bra that was laid across the floor, by an ajar door. ‘that’s from a girl my roommate brought over, manny. i swear!’ abby says. ‘he never cleans up around here.’

you also aren’t sure exactly how you and vi ended up kissing, you had your eyes closed, losing yourself in the moment, until you felt abby’s breath on your neck, as she watched closely, the strings of saliva being passed between you and vi, ‘hey. our turn.’ you hear abby says, you furrow your eyebrows, but when vi pulls away her lips from yours and holds your jaw, turning it to give abby access to your lips you let out a soft moan, you didn’t know what was going on, but when you opened your eyes slightly, and saw ellie’s needy and curious gaze over you and abby, you felt the warmth and wetness between your legs. ‘so pretty.’ abby murmurs, when you felt vis hands behind you, on the small of your back as she gently tugged up your top, you knew it was wrong. god what were you doing? but soon enough, your arms were raised above your head, lips disconnected from abby’s.

you heard abby giggling softly as she watched vi undress you, vi smirked, and you felt a snap on your hip, after showing off your little thong string to the others, she snapped it back onto you. ‘this okay, cupcake?’ vi asked, and you nodded, resting your head back against her shoulder.

soon enough your little shorts were being taken off by abby, vis hands massaging your breasts the whole time. ellie stayed stationary and curious on the other end of the sofa, her thighs clenched together.

‘fuck it.’ abby said, looking up into your eyes for consent, and when you nodded, she pulled your panties to the side, gently pushing her finger through your folds, exploring. ‘she’s wet already.’ vi said, you covered your face in embarrassment, but as she held you in her arms from behind, you didn’t do anything to stop them. of course. you felt a strong pressure, abby pushing in her thick fingers, your walls clenching around her as you rolled your hips in a circle. abby smirked, as she pumped her finger in and out, slipping in another one ‘oh abs’!!’ you moaned, turning your head behind to ground yourself by kissing vis lips. vi then adjusted to sit by your side, her fingers moving down to your clit, toying with it while abby pumped in and out of you relentlessly. your breath quickened, you couldn’t help but look down. two people pleasuring you at once, when you heard via soft murmur to ellie- ‘wanna get over here, el?’ she asks. and ellie nods. a curious nod, you could see her thighs clenched together and her gaze darting all over you, the way your hips rolled into abby’s pumps, and the way your eyebrows furrowed together.

she moved to sit beside you, while the other girls fuck you. she looks into your eyes, while her fingers lay hesitant over your mouth. you take her long fingers in your mouth, licking them which guides her to push them in gently, she’s in awe at the way you suck her fingers, the way you stop when abby’s biceps clench when she curls her fingers inside you and you just have to gasp. vi smirked at ellie. nodding at watch she was doing. all of the girls paying attention to the way you sucked ellies fingers.

after you came, they looked at you in pure awe. ‘jeez cupcake. good job.’ vi says, as she pats your cheek gently, moving herself off the couch, kneeling between your legs as abby lets vi take her spot, you felt vis warm tongue and powder blue eyes laser gaze staring up at you as the licked you clean with her tongue. ‘ellie. you wanna help?’ she asks, and ellie nods, looking to you for approval with her eyes, and when you nod she scrambles to the floor beside vi, licking a stripe up your slit, gently sucking the folds, wanting every drop. she sucked your slit until you sighed, pushing her head away gently, and you laugh, collapsing onto the back of the couch.

god. yall would never see eachother again.

[immortalmolloy]

Something felt off. Daniel wasn’t sure why. There was this creeping sense of anxiety and dread crawling under his skin and twisting in his gut. The quiet in the house felt heavy in a way that it never had before. Then everything shattered. Louis was rushing inside with Mina in his arms covered in blood.

Daniel was terrified. What had happened? She was supposed to be safe at her horse job. She wasn’t out hunting anymore risking her life. Was she alive?

Daniel inched closer as Louis set Mina on the bed. He could see that Louis had closed her wounds. Was it too late though? How much blood had she lost? Louis had done everything he could of course, but it may not be enough still. The three vampires all surrounded Mina who suddenly seemed so fragile.

Mina had been upset with Daniel. He’d let her down. She had deserved better. He hadn’t known how to fix it and make things better between them. Was this how things would end? It couldn’t end this way.

Lestat was cursing rapidly in French and threatening revenge. Daniel couldn’t help but wonder if he and Lestat had something to do with this. Daniel had published Louis and Lestat’s stories. Daniel did all the articles and press for Lestat who was so loud about being a vampire. Had they attracted negative attention? Had Daniel caused this somehow?

They had been living such a domestic life until now. The hunting was in the past and Daniel didn’t think he had to fear for Mina’s life anymore. He knew that Armand wasn’t planning on attacking Mina anytime soon. So Daniel didn’t think there were any threats. Daniel thought she would be safe. She’d been hurt and he hadn’t been with her. Now she might die. His worst fear was losing Mina. He couldn’t imagine going on without her. She had always saved him and now he felt helpless to save her.

Daniel wanted to be strong for Mina, but he was shaking and the tears wouldn’t stop falling. “Is she…?” he choked out. He looked to Lestat and Louis. Lestat had tears of his own in his eyes and Louis was very quiet and serious.

“She’s alive,” Louis said. “Barely. She’s lost so much blood.” His voice sounded strained.

“Mon Coeur,” Lestat said to Daniel, putting a hand on his shoulder to steady him. There was sadness in Lestat’s blue eyes but also a fiery passion like he would burn the world down. “What are you thinking?”

Daniel shook his head. He didn’t know what to do. Was Mina dying? Could she survive losing so much blood? He couldn’t handle the idea of losing her. At the same time, he would never decide her fate for her. Daniel had not gotten to choose the dark gift. It had been forced upon him and it was traumatic. Mina already had her own trauma with vampires. Daniel loved her too much to be selfish about it. He loved her enough to let her go if that was what she wished.

Daniel reached for Mina’s hand. He prayed to whatever gods would listen. He needed Mina to either wake up and fight. Or he needed her to make a choice. Maybe she’d just slip away. She had always seemed so strong, always known what to do. Daniel was a wreck. He wasn’t ready for this. He would never be ready to lose her.

“So, you want to interview vampires, so you?”

[ryuucam]

pervy mommy dom x virgin sub girlfriends<3 teachin u everything bc ur too shy for ur own good and taking ur virginity without u knowing! nsfw, virginity loss, dubcon, corruption kink, nipple play, fingering, dildos

she’s the one that started to pursue you, enamored with your cute, angelic charm. she asked you out, giggling when you were too hesitant to give a proper answer, but she didn’t miss the furious blush on your cheeks and watery eyes. then, you started dating, and it took a while to crack your shell open: you’re just so shy, so unsure on what to do - but she thinks you’re adorable. the afternoons spent on your bed, filled with plushies and bows, where she gave you “kissing practice”, the dates where your skirt was a bit too short, too tight, and you were so embarrassed by it, her subtle touches and prying eyes doing nothing to calm your nerves.

she knows she’s a pervert, but you’re so trusting of her, so unaware of her nasty behavior, so you keep enabling her: she knows best, right? you don’t question the times she pressed her swollen tits against yours, the times when she sniffed your neck for a bit too long, lost in the scent of your arousal and sweat, the times when she sat you in her lap (there weren’t enough seats on the train!) and flexed her thigh so it would prod at your little clit. you were silent all those times: it feels good, so good, to have your pussy touched by your girlfriend, but you figure she’s just doing that accidentally.

one day, she’s at your house. in your pretty pink room, on your soft bed covered by warm blankets and cutesy plushies, with you drooling on her lap while she circles her thumb on your covered clit. “w-what’re y’d-doin-ngh!…”, you whimper. you feel so good, but she’s not talking to you, leaving you to drown in your tears and thoughts. “oh angel, ‘m just cuddling with you. see? ‘m caressing your bunny cunt.” she replies, her usually calm voice now laced with a sultry, lewd tone. you guess she’s right - that’s what cuddling is, right? hugs and kisses and caresses… sure, she’s touching a weird place, but she knows best. it’s not like it’s hurting you! it just feels so good that you can’t help but cry like a baby when she presses her thumb a bit harder.

“oh, my little girl. you’re crying so much, you’re makin’ me worry - i’m gonna stop now, ‘kay?” if you weren’t so dumb, so unresponsive and innocent, you’d notice the fake concern in her voice. she has you right where she wants you. “n-no!… p-please mommy, m feelin’ so g-good…” “hm? then let mommy keep on cuddlin’ you okay? ‘m not gonna do anything more. it’s just a hug, yeah? just on your special spot.”

and she’s so convincing, you nod. like a dumb little lamb about to be slaughtered by the big bad wolf. she unbuttons your blouse, your bra, takes off your skirt - all gradually, claiming that it’s hot and she wants to be closer. then, she kisses you: a sweet, sweet kiss on your tits, on your nipples, then she licks, sucks, rubs your buds until you’re sobbing. oh, your poor boobies! mommy’s kissing them better now, so no worries. it’s just a kiss. then, she undresses too: your little mouth waters at the sight of her own pair of tits, and you hesitantly poke the soft skin with your finger. “can i h-hug you there, too?” of course you can. so you squeeze, grope, then kiss and suck your nipples. oh, you look like a poor kitty right now, all busy sucking on her tits! you’re so focused you don’t notice her hand going back to your cunny, fingers running over your puffy folds and thumb pressed right on your clit. your hips rock subconsciously against her fingers, faster n faster until you squirt all over her. “w-what’s th-ah! that?” “means y’re happy, puppy. want more? lemme rub that angelcunt of yours a bit longer, yeah? mommy’ll make you so happy.”

bonus: you end the night by losing your virginity <3 she makes you ride one of her dildos for hours on end, while u think it’s just another way of kissin :( little did u know u were putting on a show for her, pussy squelchin with every move n tits giggling and swaying as u came for the nth time on the silicone dick. be quiet though, here, suck on her chest a bit more. you’re doing so good, such a good girl for her.

lisa, eula, ei, yae miko, xianyun, arlecchino, ningguang, beidou, rosaria, signora (genshin impact) aglaea, himeko, herta, ruan mei, fei xiao, yukong, natasha, serval, cocolia, acheron, black swan, jade, kafka (honkai star rail) shoko, meimei, yuki (jujutsu kaisen) rina, zhu yuan, grace, yanagi, evelyn, caesar, jane doe (zenless zone zero)

reqs are open.

[heavyhitterheaux]

To Date or Not to Date

See Me Through You Blurb

Synopsis: Ja'Marr answers the famous TikTok question of "which teammate would he not let date his sister."

Pairing: Husband!Joe Burrow x Wife!Reader

Requested by: a gorgeous anon 😍

Series Masterlist

Please Do Not Repost My Content Anywhere

The Bengals had just wrapped up another practice on what turned out to be a windy day in Cincinnati. Everyone was making their way back into the locker room when Joe looked up and noticed that their social media team kept stopping players for what he assumed to be another TikTok that they were filming.

As Joe was approaching them along with Jake, he caught the tail end of the question that was currently being asked to Andrei and Tee.

“Which one of your teammates would you not let date your sister?”

“Love all these guys on my team, but for Geno… it's a no!” Andrei said before walking off and all of the attention was now on Tee.

“Well, Tee, what are your thoughts? Who would you not let date your sister?” Kelsey from the social media team asked him.

“Ja’Marr because he's a hoe! Oh shit, can I say that on camera?” He asked as his eyes went wide. But what he didn't notice was Ja’Marr right behind him.

“Excuse me, Tee! I heard that with your big ass mouth! They're going to have to edit this out.” Ja’Marr told him before Kelsey held the mic up to him.

“Okay, Ja'Marr you're up. Who would you not let date your sister?”

Ja’Marr looked dead into the camera and without hesitation said the name that no one expected.

“Joe.”

“Um, Ja'Marr….” Kelsey started to say when she saw Joe approaching him from behind and said nothing as Joe caught him in a headlock.

“AH! Get off me! I was just playing! Damn!”

“Well jokes on your dumbass because we're married.” Joe told him as Ja'Marr was trying to get out of his grip.

“Ouch! Okay! Okay! I take it back! Unhand me! I'm your brother-in-law!”

“And that's why you shouldn't have said it!”

“Get him again for me, Joe!” Tee yelled as Joe laughed before finally loosening his grip.

Once he finally did, the two of them continued towards the locker room.

“Joe, I'm telling your wife that you attacked me!”

“And you know good and damn well the first question out of her mouth is going to be if you deserved it or not. So therefore, I highly doubt that she would care.”

“You right. She mean as hell and would probably laugh at me. Look, I even asked you THIRTY minutes before the wedding if you were sure about marrying her. I mean better for me since she now had someone else to bother so she wouldn't be constantly blowing up my phone.”

“She still does?”

“You're right, but don't tell her I said that. Wait, am I still invited to dinner tonight?”

“Let’s call her and ask.”

“Wait, what? Joe, don't you dare tell on me.”

“Too late. Hello? Hi, baby doll. Let me tell you what your brother did at practice today.” Joe said into the phone with you on the other end.

“Oh no. Is he still in one piece?”

“I left him in one piece, but he came close to losing a body part.”

“Don't listen to him, Pebbles! I'm innocent!” Ja’Marr said as he tried to take the phone, but Joe swatted his hand away.

“He has never been innocent, so go on.” You told him as you were currently trying to pick out an outfit to go to lunch with your mom.

“So, you know our social media team is always out here and Kelsey asked him ‘which player would you not let date your sister?’ And your twin who was found in a dumpster behind Popeyes…”

“Joe, what the hell!?” Yelled Ja’Marr as he threw his hands up in disbelief.

“Stop interrupting. He decided to say my name and earned himself being put in a headlock and asked me after the fact if he is still invited over for dinner.”

You couldn't help but to immediately laugh before responding back to your husband.

“I'll go to PetsMart on my way home from lunch and get a doggy bowl to put outside for him.”

[housemdork]

6x11: when a reductive gay joke plotline is still queer-coded (or more metatextual queerness in house md)

in its later seasons, house md keeps doing this really funny thing where they play into house and wilson with increasingly low-hanging fruit gay jokes (dw i still laugh lol). but they manage this without sacrificing the 6 seasons' worth of cultivated subtext that permits genuine queer coding above queerbait/2000s gay jokes/etc. 6x11 is one of the best examples of this so far.

so i'm not a musical junkie, and i'm sure this has already been written about to hell and back, but 6x11 prompted me to look more into the song that wilson was singing at the end of the episode.

"one" from the musical a chorus line (also the poster house bought):

"One singular sensation Every little step she takes One thrilling combination Every move that she makes One smile and suddenly nobody else will do You know you'll never be lonely with you-know-who!"

according to genius lyrics, "Despite the lyrics which praise a singular star, the star at whom it’s directed is never shown. The “One” is absent...The star is not even named – only referred to as ‘she’ or ‘You Know Who.’"

there is a "one" in 6x11 - nora, whom both house and wilson stake their claims for dating (which is exceptionally gross & misogynistic of them). but the song/musical choice implies that she was never important enough to be The One in question.

this frame seems self-aware of the potential absence of "The One." the shot gives the impression of symmetry, but it's very uneven. house is reclined back, warping the straight line of the couch, and the boxes on wilson's side are neat and tidied, whereas those on house's side are sparse and thrown about. more importantly, there's that arm rest between house and wilson's seats. if The One (nora) was to sit anywhere, this frame seems to imply that it would be there.

thus, this frame isn't straight.

house seems to be aware of this pseudo-absence, as well. he looks at wilson with a thoughtful, revelatory look on his face:

superficially, he's probably just astounded that wilson is singing the song from a musical he hates so much, but he lets the song continue, nonetheless. here, the episode remembers the genre of the song that wilson is singing - a showtune! and what happens in showtunes/musicals? the singers are spot-lit! the audience watches them perform!

here i'm gonna posit that wilson is a (non-self aware) paul, a chorus line's man character whose revelation that he's gay is both tragic but also drives the plot. house can see this. meta-textually, we see this THROUGH house seeing this.

taken together, this scene's asymmetry, implied spotlight, and awkward arm rest divide offer wilson as the performer in this musical-adjacent exchange, with house as the in-text audience, and us, the real audience, as the outer-textual audience. what a long winded way of saying that wilson is performing comphet here!

and there's another note i want to make on the subject of performance/performativity...

this is from the golden globes official article, "'A Chorus Line' Brought Visibility to Queer Stories in the 70s and 80s'":

"The audience gets to see [Paul, the main character's] valor, which may be an inspiration to those in the audience who face similar challenges."

wilson's proposal to house is complete performance. the entire precedent for the scene is just gay joke after gay joke and wilson's anxiety that this false impression of him will negatively impact his dating life.

when he makes this performance of homosexuality, he's lauded for it. the restaurant urges house to say yes, and everybody claps even before house has given an answer.

also from the article: " The character of Paul delivers a touching monologue about how performing revealed his identity as a gay man."

6x11 inverts this dynamic. the performance in question is that of homosexuality, and wilson is not rewarded for it in the end. he loses The One, as does house, and they go home and watch a hockey game together in yet another intricate ritual (as stated above).

i also think there's something to be said about house enlisting nora's help in bringing the poster for a chorus line up to his apartment.

i'm genuinely hesitant to applaud this show - or any show, really - for subtextual intentionality like this. i have a hard time believing that there was, long ago, a time where tv didn't just capitalize off fandom's tendency to pair up its characters in our internet fanbase/fanfiction age but deliberately queer-coded things. but even silly episodes like this one remind me of that one robert sean leonard quote about house and wilson, that they are the only relationship in the show based completely on choice - the choice to always come back to each other.

all that is to say that i sincerely think these 2 are written in a subversion of gender norms and binary platonic/romantic relationships. for 2000s tv, that's just like lightning in a bottle.

oh and apparently there's a gay character named greg in the musical, too. someone who's more qualified to talk about a chorus line should hijack this post. what the hell are we doing, david shore.