#and every time i was like there can't be more there was more. don't ask the number of back-ups for the sweetest blossom/pinch/ruffle sets

[kenmaspuddinghair]

Honorably discharged partially disabled Simon part 4

part 1 part 2 part 3

 The time was exactly 11:59 PM, in less than 60 seconds your phone would go off and you would find Simon still wide awake. You didn't want to bother Simon so you were sleeping in his chair rather than in his bed with him, and Simon couldn't find the nerve to ask you. You were waking up every hour to make sure Simon was sleeping and not in pain but so far he's been awake every time.

It was a soft vibration yet you still woke up and quietly walked over to Simon “why are you still awake? Simon if you're in pain you need to tell me” “I promise ‘m not in pain, ‘m trying to sleep”  you just sighed, this is the response you got the last two times as well  “is there anything I can do for you to fall asleep?" Then Simon got an idea, it was now or never, he knew he wasn't gonna get any sleep knowing you were right there in reach, so he made do. He grabbed you by the waist and pulled you into the bed next to him “S-simon what are you doing? You have to be careful” Simon just hummed as he fixed the blankets around you “this ‘ill help me sleep” and just like that you were tucked under the covers perfectly into his side and Simon was already drifting to sleep so what kind of nurse would you be if you got up. 

You woke up to your normal morning alarm but it turned off before you even moved, once you fully woke up, you looked around to find Simon right next to you just staring at you, your face flushed as you got out of the bed “i'm gonna go make breakfast” and you scurried away before Simon could reply. Maybe what he did last night was too much? 

You and Simon ate in silence for the first time in a week, once you finished he started walking outside but you stopped him “exactly where are you going” gosh Simon thought you were so pretty with your hands on your hips questioning him “i'm going do a few laps around the base, my normal workout” “and how many laps are ‘a few’ and how long is that going to be, you can't do as much as you used to Simon” he sighed, he knew you were right but he also wanted to show you he could do more than you thought, that's when he made the decision 

Simon grabbed you some shoes and a light jacket as it was still early spring, he didn't ask you to join him he just decided you were, he said it was so you could monitor him and see he was doing fine, but he had a slightly different plan. This was the third hill you and Simon were going across and you were panting so heavily, while Simon kept his breath steady and showed no signs of weakness. Simon had been quiet the entire trip “okay okay Simon, you've made your point, I get it. You're still capable and I don't need to hover so much, can we please go back now?” You were so out of breath Simon kinda felt bad for bringing you up here but you were so close he couldn't turn back now.

“Actually brought ya up ��ere for a different reason, just a little longer can ya do that?” Simon paused before looking over your whole figure “i'll even carry ya up” you let out a small laugh at that “Simon I can't keep going but I also can't let you carry me, that'll be way too much for you” Simon wasn't taking no for an answer, he just wordless picked you up bridal style before continuing up, after a moment he added “ya weigh like half o’ what I do regularly, this is nothin baby” you just accepted defeat and leaned into the strong man carrying you. 

Simon placed you gently on a bench that was placed at the top of the hill facing the rising sun. After a bit of silence, Simon decided this was his only chance to ask you out but he still wasn't sure how so he just started rambling. “Ya know this bench means ‘lot to me, Price made me lieutenant here, he also brought me up ‘ere to tell me I was honorably discharged…” he felt your hand on his biceps comfortably rubbing circles on him, he took a deep breath before he continued.

He had a whole speech about how much he liked you, how you've been the only person he felt comfortable around, and how he cant stop thinking about you, really he did, he kept rehearsing on the walk here but that's not what came out of his mouth.

“Will ya let me be yer husband?” you were startled you whipped your head to look at him, I mean you knew he would have trouble asking you out but what was this “Simon-” “no I mean like yer future husband, it doesn't have to be now, but I don't wanna wait long, but i'll wait however long ya need-” he was rambling so you cut him off, with a kiss of course, once you pulled back his mouth stayed slightly agape as you smiled at him “I think you were trying to ask me to be your girlfriend, right?” he just nodded still shocked by your bold move, you giggled at his face “of course i'll be yer future wife” you replied teasingly. This didn't go as planned but it was still a win, and Simon would take that, he just needed to make sure he could be the perfect husband for you, his perfect wife, well future wife.

tags- @piconico17 @just-lilita @madsdawson @silversfavfics @enfppuff @solazoro @sirbonesly @roastyyytoastyyy @the-disaster-in-waiting @lonjitas @squishytap @gays6968 @sunndust @dreamland08 @sweetpeakarolinaaa @marcysbear @alfiestreacle @bxm-2121@goldyghoul  @itsanemu0101 @wolverineswaifu @crempuffie @ohdrey89 @cucurucho-amargo @avalkyrieofparis @castellomargot @cmbghost @strawberrygato @blueladys-world @goodsoup19 @pinkylouise @creepzeyecandy @tessakate @identity2212 (if I added you to the tag list and you don't want to be, just let me go ill remove you)

[butchdiaz]

can't stop thinking about the morning after the breakdown right now. eddie slept on the couch. his room was a mess. his bed had glass in it so he slept on the couch. but buck slept over too. where did he sleep? on the floor next to eddie? did he sleep at all? or did he just lay there listening to eddie's breathing, watching the rise and fall of his chest, thanking god that he's here and he's safe with every little sniffle and snore? maybe he saw the sun start to creep through the curtains and eased himself up with cracking knees, holding his breath until eddie snored again, sound asleep. and he reached over and adjusted the blanket to cover him a little better and just watched him for a moment, looking so peaceful in sleep. so different to the pain on every line of his face the night before. then buck wakes chris up, a gentle hand on his shoulder. says Hey Bud. Time to get ready for school. We have to be Quiet though. Your Dad's still sleeping on the couch. chris whispers Okay Buck. and buck knows it's usually cereal on school days but he whips up pancakes with chocolate chips because. well. it was a hard night. chris slowly opens the kitchen door to avoid it creaking and sits down, still in his pjs, crutches left behind in his bedroom. and they eat in silence. there's a million questions on chris's tongue and most of them are Is Dad Okay? but he doesn't ask, because it's a stupid question. because he peeked into the bedroom while buck was making breakfast and saw the holes in the wall. buck steps outside while chris is finishing up and dials. Good Morning Buck, bobby says. Hey Bobby. Um. Could you come over to Eddie's house? He kind of. Uh. Lost it. Last night. And I Have to take chris to school soon and I just. Don't want him to be alone. When he wakes up. theres a little pause then. Of Course. Be there in 20. buck does the dishes, checks on chris, checks on eddie. hears the car pull up and opens the door. bobby gives him one look before pulling him into a hug and buck has to fight back sudden tears. and eddie makes a noise in his sleep like he's distressed and they both look over. and bobby whispers What Happened Buck? and buck tells him. He destroyed his room. Went at it with a baseball bat. Chris was so scared. I was...Fuck. Everyone he saved is dead, Bobby. and bobby understands, more than buck ever will and says, I'll have a cup of coffee waiting for him. buck drives chris to school and chris finally asks Is Dad gonna be okay? feeling like he's five years old. and buck says, Yeah. He just needs a little help right now. chris voice Are you gonna help him? buck voice Yeah buddy. I'm gonna try. and he vows to stay glued to eddie's side. just until he feels better. or maybe forever.

[deepspacedarling]

Hey! I really liked your unzipping dress headcannons can you do them sleeping? If you dont want to do all of the deepspace men, could you do Rafayel pwease!

How Do the LADS Boys Sleep?

Warning: no, just soft boys sleeping

AN: Thank you for the ask and the kind words! I decided to do all of the boys so here are some headcanons for how they sleep! (middle pic in banner by @littlestgamer)

Xavier, Zayne, Rafayel, Sylus, Caleb

Xavier

He sleeps on his side, curled up against you. He likes to bury his face in your neck and just snooze. If you let him, he'll fall asleep with his head on your chest or stomach. He likes feeling your skin against his.

He tends to sleep very heavily. Sleeping through his alarm every morning kind of heavy. Most mornings you wake him up so that he won't be late to work.

He hardly moves while he's sleeping. He sleeps like the dead.

If you try to get out of bed before he's ready for you to leave, his arm will tighten around you and his brow will furrow. He just needs five more minutes.

Zayne

In all honesty, Zayne's not much of a toucher when he's trying to sleep. On the nights when he manages to get home at a respectable hour, he'll crawl into bed with you and hold you because he missed you so much but in general, he's not really big on cuddling to sleep.

A certified blanket hog. If he wakes up in the middle of the night, he'll cover you with the blanket again but otherwise, don't let him get it or you're not getting it back.

If he eats sugar before bed, he gets nightmares more often. He knows this, you know this. He'll still eat sugar and suffer the consequences.

Once his alarm goes off, he's up and out of bed immediately. You'll wake up half groggy to find him already dressed, coffee for you sitting on the nightstand, and a kiss goodbye to your forehead before he's off to work.

Rafayel

He sleeps on his side while holding your hand. He moves around a lot though so he'll end up in a strange position by morning

He never shuts up so why would be stop talking even in his sleep. Sometimes it's cute things like your name or something silly like arguing with a squid. Other times, he says something like "It's in the corner" and you're terrified for the rest of the night.

He likes to sleep with noise like waves or whale sounds. It reminds him of home and makes him feel more comfortable.

He always whines when he has to get up. He'll let you pull him out of bed but he isn't happy about it. Make him coffee and he'll forgive you.

Sylus

He prefers to sleep on his back with his arm curled around you.

He's a very light sleeper. The slightest movement on your end will wake him up. He usually cracks open a scarlet eye and looks around briefly to assess for any potential threats before he allows himself to drift off again.

He's NOT a morning person. He's a little grumpy when he wakes up.

He gets up when he wants to get up. It's a perk of being the head of his organization. It's not like he can be late to a meeting. The meeting starts when he gets there. He'll order breakfast and stay in bed with you for as long as you want.

Caleb

He can't sleep without you. It's as simple as that. When he goes off on missions, he brings something along with him that smells like you (your underwear. WHO SAID THAT?) so that he can sleep feeling like you're there.

When he is home, he wants to hold you while you both sleep. His arm is around you like a bar and his chest is pressed against your back. If he could absorb you into him, he would. For now, he'll just settle for you curled up against him while you rest.

He's a snorer. Not very loud but definitely snoring. He doesn't get great sleep in general.

He hates having to get up but he'll press multiple kisses into your shoulder before he does. By the time you're awake, he's worked out, fixed up his arm, and made you both breakfast.

Requests are Open!

[bleuberries-and-video-games]

Every time my mom gets mad at me about having plushies, I think about how our house is solid gray both inside and out. I think about how every single personal affect she buys, she has to justify in some way. It has to be something that looks nice in the house, serves a function in the house, etc. It can't just be something she likes, or enjoys, and if it is it has to be contained to a little glass box, put away on a shelf, or only brought out in certain times. I think about how little she gives herself grace, I think about how often she told me how much I should hold on to my child like wonder, and then when I do how much she gets frustrated with me for it. I think about every single time she talks to me like I'm 14, when I paid taxes, pay bills, make my own appointments, I'm a fully functional adult with autonomy and Independence, and she still manages to find something that indicates I'm immature. How up until recently, every single time I told her about rent and jobs, she would get mad at me and say I wasn't trying hard enough, only really realizing that I was trying as hard as I could once she was obligated to find a new job after the prospect of retirement started becoming more immediate. I think about how pretty much all of my transition has been me sitting down with a lot of the things both my mom and my dad did, and asking if I should reciprocate it, continue it, and in many cases saying no. I shouldn't. What they did was wrong.

And then I think about how often when I do that, they get unreasonably mad, they tell me I'm not being mature, not thinking things through, when I have and I did and I don't want to end up like them. I don't want to swallow my feelings and nearly kill myself drinking, and I don't want to stress so much about diet and exercise and avoid my feelings that I get sick or worse. I want to try and live with the things I do, cope however I can, be the person I want to be.

I think about every single time I have felt a sting of guilt being the person I should be, the person I want to be. And then I continue ever onwards.

Because I have told her, and I have told everyone who decides to make a point of it, that if somebody doesn't like my plushies, if somebody doesn't like who I am, if I feel so uncomfortable around them that I have to change my entire person to satisfy how they see me, if somebody doesn't like some aspect of me, or can't accept it, then I don't associate with them. It's simple. Yeah I know I'm going to have to be around people I don't like. I can stomach that. But if somebody tries to make me change in a way that isn't healthy or genuinely denies me my agency, I don't want to associate with them.

Because like I know I'm not going to be taken seriously in life sometimes, I know some people are going to look at a kinky trans weirdo and think "what a nutcase, i cant take them seriously!" I have accepted that fact. I can deal with being judged for being childish, and I can stomach it pretty easily.

The people who make judgments of childishness most often are the ones most bothered about being seen as immature because they cannot validate themselves.

[woso-dreamzzz]

Sound III

Steph Catley x Child!Reader

Summary: Your first day at school

"Go on," Steph says," Go and stand with Calvin and I'll take a picture."

You shift a little on your feet as you do as you're told.

Steph's been floating on air this whole morning.

She made you a special breakfast of pancakes and strawberries. She brushed your hair gently and helped your change into your new uniform.

You think she might end up crying too but that's only because your best friend told you that's what her mothers did when they were in the shop to buy her new uniform.

"You're so grown up now, angel," Steph says from behind her camera," I might cry."

You knew that would happen and you shuffle forward to hug her.

She's much bigger than you. She's always been bigger than you but that's okay because Steph says you've got a much bigger heart than her so you try to force all of your love into this hug for her.

"It's only a half day, alright?" She says, though it seems like she's trying to remind herself more than you," So I'll be picking you up right before lunch and we'll head back to training. I'm sure the others are all going to be so excited to hear about your day."

"Okay, Mummy."

"And..." Steph trails up, biting at her lip for a moment before kneeling down and drawing your closer. "There's going to be a lot of kids and they won't be like your friends at camp. They might not...understand that-"

"That I have to wear extra ears?"

"That you have to wear hearing aids, that's right. Do you remember your rules?"

You do.

Of course you do.

Steph made sure you memorised all of them during summer, insisting that they were important for your wellbeing.

"Don't let anyone touch my ears. No turning off my ears and remember that my new friends might not know how to sign so I have to use my voice."

Steph smiles. "Good girl. And make sure that if anyone teases you, you go straight to the teacher to let them know."

You nod. "I will, Mummy."

Steph doesn't end up crying at home though her eyes water slightly as she loads you up into the car.

She doesn't even cry when she leaves you in your new classroom with your new teacher and your new classmates.

She does cry in the car though.

In the car.

On the way to training.

At training.

She just can't seem to stop.

"She's so big now," Steph sobs into Beth's shoulder," So big. When did she get so big?"

"Still crying?" Kyra asks with a dismissive eye roll.

"Has been for the past half an hour," Alessia replies," Beth had to convince her not to pick y/n up early."

"Y/n's a great kid. I'm sure she's having the best time."

"Don't tell Steph that. It might be too much to cope with."

The hours tick by slowly or at least they do to Steph. For what feels like every half an hour, she looks up at the clock to find only five minutes have passed.

It's excruciatingly painful and it's clear to everyone that she's not really listening so it's no surprise that Steph is up and gone like a shot the minute her alarm goes off.

She's early to pick up, anxiously parked outside the school and tapping her steering wheel before your class comes out.

You're near the front like she told you to be, your pastel pink backpack practically dwarfing you in size as you come out.

"Hey, angel," Steph coos as you go running into her arms, burying your face into her neck," Hey. I missed you today."

"Missed you too, mummy," You reply, your voice small and quiet like it usually is," I kept my ears on. I didn't let people touch them. I spoke as I signed too."

"Good girl," Steph says, easily lifting you up into her arms," And was it good? School? Did you have fun?"

You look a little nervous but still nod. "I think so."

Steph doesn't want to pry too deep into that while still on school grounds but there's a horrible sinking feeling in her chest at your words.

They play on her mind as she drives back to training. They're at the very front of her thoughts as she watches you go off to play with Kyra, Vic and Alessia.

She almost wears the floor down with her pacing as your words circle her head without respite.

You were a little nervous to tell her. You weren't sure if you had fun at school.

You certainly look like you're having fun now though as Kyra grabs you from behind and swings you around in the air before Vic and Less pounce and tickle your tummy.

You shriek with laughter and Steph doesn't want to think about you not having this kind of fun at school too.

She doesn't want to think about it all but she can't help it, calling out to stop your play before she even realises what she's done.

"Hey," She says, taking your hands and sitting down on the grass with you," I wanted to talk to you. Can we talk?"

You're still smiling - that infectious smile you have that makes everyone smile with you. "We can talk, Mummy!"

"I wanted to talk about school."

Your bright smile drops immediately. "Oh."

Steph draws you closer until you're firmly sat on her lap and she can hold your properly.

"I need you to be honest with me. Can you do that?"

"I can do that."

Steph takes a big breath before asking," Did you enjoy school? This is important."

You say something but it's a mumble and Steph has to strain to hear you.

"I enjoyed it. Had a lot of fun."

Steph frowns. "Then why did you say you weren't sure earlier."

You nibble at the inside of your cheek for a moment before you say," You looked sad this morning when you were getting me ready. I didn't want you to be more sad if it looked like I had more fun at school."

"Oh...Well..." Steph takes a moment to compose herself, to think through her muddle of thoughts. "You don't have to be scared to tell me these things, angel. I don't want you to feel like you can't tell me things. I just want you to be happy."

[fewwwgoodwomen]

hiiii could u prettyyy pleasssee do sub namgyu hcs??

Sub!Nam-gyu Headcanons !!

(A/N:I've never done hcs before so bear with me !! This is a new concept to me hahah)

-sfw

•Nam-gyu loves physical touch from you even if he hates admitting it.

"Do that thing with my hair again." "Yeah i hate it.. but my head hurts right now." "I didn't say that yesterday."

•Whenever Nam-gyu finishes his stash of drugs, he gets even more clingy towards you.

"I swear.. you ARE better than my drugs..." "No... i didn't finish them.. what makes you think that?"

•Nam-gyu thinks you look hot when you're high with him, especially when you get extra affectionate.

•He loves tucking your hair to the side , mirroring the habit he does to himself, denying it each time.

"Its not my habit, stupid. I just don't want hair all over your face."

•he loves laying on your chest and hugging your waist, especially when hes high.

"No, I'm not high this time. Yes, i do smell like weed, but that's not the point..."

•Would get you matching rings with him.

"I dont fucking hide my hands with my sleeves. Just please get these with me.."

•Mindlessly follows you anywhere.

"Dude, Shut up... I'm not following you... you're just.. who i wanna go to."

•Will never admit that you're right, even when its painfully obvious

"I do not bite my nails, you're thinking of another dude." "No? The lady at the salon fucked it up, it wasn't bitten off."

•He likes playing hard to get even though he'll submit within minutes.

"You miss me? Use your legs and walk to the room then." "What do you mean you won't do it? Lazy ass bitch. Yes I'm walking there. Whatever. Okay okay.. i won't call you that again."

•Disturbs you at random points just to ask you stupid questions

"Psst.. Do you think cats could get high?" "No. Its just, i don't know where my last edible went, and the cat is acting weird."

•Loves it when you kiss his neck

•Has the habit to swear in every sentence, especially when he talks about you.

"You're so fucking weird, like not in a bad way but not in a fucking good way either, you just make me feel shit like-- Shut up, i don't swear THAT fucking much."

-Nsfw

•even though he tries to hold it, hes very vocal and loud

"A-ah.. Fuck. You're so quiet, i-its making me sound loud --mmh~!"

•hates getting edged but loves begging you

"S-stop fucking edging me like this you w-whore.. a-agh~.. please.. just let me cum.."

•loves it when you ride him, especially when you tie him up.

"If youre going to edge me.. a-aah~! Atleast.. tie me up... f-fuck..!"

•he doesn't admit it but he loves it when you spit on him

"S-stop spitting on me.. i-i can't.. its so..f-fuck..~" "N-no, i didn't lick it off my lips."

•his fav place for you to spit on would be his mouth , face or his cock

•He'd be into motorboating your titties

"Please.. fuck.. take off your bra.. just this once.. please..?"

•he jerks off a lot to pictures or videos of you when you aren't there

"Please let me take this photo of you.. i swear im not gonna nut on it or something."

•He likes it when you pull his hair

•He likes acting all bitchy towards you because he knows you'll make him feel so good no matter what.

"S-shut the fuck up.. y-your pussy isn't that tight-- ngh~!"

•hes into overstimulation, anything to make his girl feel good.

•He'd beg you to do one more round even though deep down he can't last the moment he's inside you

"Please.. one more.. I'll fucking do anything... i'll last longer than 5 minutes please please please... i-i want that pussy."

•most of the time its you giving him aftercare and he loves being babied by you.

"Yeah women totally deserve aftercare but you made me cum 7 times. Can you please just do it this once..? No, I didn't ask you that last round."

•would do anything to be able to cum inside you

"Please please please.... let me fucking cum inside you..i swear ill be good.. i wont call you a whore ever again.."

•Likes to film whenever you guys have sex, so he could jerk off to the footage later on.

"No no no.. don't move it.. i like seeing your ass in that angle.." "Shut up. I-its for memories.. and.. you sound hot on video, thats all, i swear!"

•He likes to have you soak up edibles in your mouth just to spit it in his mouth when you guys make out.

"Fuuck.. soak it up just like that and spit it out on my tongue" "Shut up, its not THAT gross."

•He loves getting degraded by you, even though half the time he insults you.

"Y-yeah.. i fucking get i-it... i'm a manwhore.. just for you.. mmh~!"

•Likes putting obscure music when you guys fuck

"Please.. can i play this msi song just once while you ride me..? I-its only 2 minutes.." "What the fuck do you mean the music will last longer than me?"

•A complete weirdo for you, literally a creep.

"Please..? Just consider doing a rainbow kiss with me once?" "Shut the fuck up, you just don't have good taste in fetishes."

•Hates calling you mommy but would do it in a heartbeat whenever hes desperate.

"M-mommy..~! Please let me cum.. fuck.. milk me dry please..~! I-it's aching so bad...please..~" "S-shut up.. just let me cum.. mommy.. please..?"

[suksatoru]

he loves her! ⋆˚୨♡୧˚⋆ rin itoshi x you

if there was one thing all the teenage boys at blue lock were able to collectively share (besides their obsession for soccer) it would be the fact that none of them had a girlfriend. as talented as they were with soccer, their dating life wasn't exactly...on par.

at least, that's what they thought. it's late one night after practice when isagi is coming back from the showers, a towel wrapped around his hips and another thrown over his shoulders. he's yawning loudly—expecting to return to an empty room all to himself. but as he's shuffling around in the dark to find a shirt to slip into, he hears it.

the sound is soft and muffled, so quiet he almost misses it completely at first. he's not sure if his ears are playing some sort of a trick on him or what—but then he hears it again

a giggle.

albeit a little scared, isagi turns towards the direction of the sound. rin's bed is tucked into the corner of the room, and his back is facing isagi as he lays curled up under his blankets. they were draped loosely over his shoulders, and there's a dim light shining on the other side of him. isagi realizes he's on a call a second later when he hears rin speak

"i miss you."

isagi freezes, his body rigid with horror as he hears rin's tone—one he has never heard before. it was so sweet and so soft that he wondered if maybe it was someone else laying in rin's bed instead. perhaps an alien pretending to be his stoic teammate? that had to be it, right? since when did rin itoshi sound so sappy?

"i miss you too, rinnie. i still can't believe they won't let me visit you! maybe it's because they know you won't have enough space for all the gifts i want to bring you."

rin's response is quiet enough where isagi can't hear from his spot across the room—but he hears you laugh again. you have a pretty laugh, and isagi's lips twitch at the sound of it.

huh. out of all the people he deemed able to score a girlfriend, the last person he actually expected it to be was rin. the boy seemed more emotionally constipated than everyone else at blue lock combined—but you sound happy talking to him, and rin's back is relaxed from where isagi can see. curiously, he takes a step closer to rin's bed.

"soo! tell me about your new roommates! and the new guys on your team—i can't keep up with them now. anyone you like?" he hears you ask, and rin scoffs. isagi can't see rin's face, but he can imagine he's rolling his eyes. he doesn't want to admit it, but he does want to hear rin's response. praying he doesn't accidentally make a sound, isagi takes a tentative step closer to rin's bed.

"no. everyone is pissing me off—especially isagi. he has such a kickable face, y/n. you'll understand what i mean when you see him at the u-20 match." rin grumbles, and isagi doesn't even have the time to be offended by rin's words before he mistakingly perks up

"you're inviting her to the u-20 match?!"

isagi's eyes widen, and he slaps a hand over his mouth—mortified—as if he could pluck the words out of the air and quickly push them back down his throat. rin's back has gone absolutely stiff now, every muscle tensing up within a split second. he looked about a moment away from turning around before he hears your curious voice speak up

"rinnie, who is that?!" you question, and isagi can hear rin counting under his breath—a tactic he uses to calm himself down whenever shidou tries picking a fight with him—before he gently bid you goodbye.

"i have to go, y/n. i'll call you later, okay?" rin says, his voice scarily calm as you hum in response

"promise? i won't go to sleep until you do, rinnie! that bowl headed guy said i got at least an hour a day with you! who knew spamming him with so many emails a day would—"

"y/n."

"...yeah?"

"i love you. please hang up."

"...i'll be waiting patiently for your next call! please don't kill the guy who interrupted you. bye bye, rinnie!"

isagi heres the gentle ping! of the facetime call ending. rin sits up slowly from where he was once comfortably laying down, and he turns off the ipad before placing it on his bedside table. he turns to meet his teammate's gaze, and isagi swallows the lump in his throat at the sight of rin's face—holy shit he's so dead.

isagi most definitely wasn't supposed to interrupt rin's call with you—but he'd clearly intruded. honestly, he felt bad, but it was an honest mistake!

maybe it was just the sound of rin's voice that threw him off so much—isagi's never heard him talk like that. rin sounded....sad, saying he missed you. it was a moment of vulnerability for him, and the light pink dusting rin's cheekbones gave isagi a clear indicator that he was embarrassed.

"i'm going to count to five, isagi." rin says calmly, standing up slowly as isagi's eyes widen. as composed as rin was trying to appear, it looked like the vein on his forehead was about to pop with how hard he was clenching his jaw and burning a hole into isagi with nothing but his angry eyes

"h-huh?! wait—what happens when you get to five?!"

"i'm going to kill you."

"okay—if you're afraid i'm going to tell anyone about her, you're wrong! i won't, your secret's safe with me!" isagi laughs nervously, holding up his hands in surrender as rin blinks owlishly—before picking up the soccerball that had been resting idly by the foot of his bed

"i was counting to five in my head by the way."

the resounding sound of the ball bouncing off of isagi's skull and ricocheting off the walls was near comical. that night, rin doesn't try too hard to hide his ipad from isagi as he recounts the whole story for you, ignoring isagi's chirps in the background of that's not true! and how he took the soccer ball to the head like a champ!

regardless, isagi kept true to his word and kept rin's secret safe. sure, now he'd pop up behind rin every now and then in the middle of your calls, waving enthusiastically before promptly getting shoved out of frame by rin—his cameos were short lived, but pretty funny to you.

"—i'm hiding under my blankets. i wish the utensils in the cafeteria weren't plastic, otherwise i would've stabbed half the lukewarm idiots here already." rin grumbles as you laugh, watching him shuffle around in the dark

"so gory. ah, that reminds me! remember that horror game you were talking about rin-rin? right before you left? it's out! we can play together when you finish your training, okay? we can pull an all nighter on the weekend when you aren't busy—it'll be a blast!"

rin allows the smallest of smiles to grace his face. he pulls the blankets around him closer, thankful bachira had whisked away isagi for the night so he could talk to you freely once again—that idiot really liked popping into his calls, but rin managed to make a bunch more while unsuspecting isagi was out and about the facility.

"okay." rin says softly, blinking back the water building up in his eyes as he turns up the brightness of his ipad in the dark—your face shows up more clearer and brighter on the screen, and he listens to you talk about your day while you get ready for bed.

you're too busy putting on some sort of a face mask to see the hearts for eyes rin has while he watches you—he'll ruin his eyesight and gladly go blind if it means he can watch you through his screen like this. it was one of the reasons he called you on his ipad rather than his phone—so your face could be projected on a bigger screen for him to admire.

"rinnie? are you tired?"

rin yawns quietly with a nod, rubbing his eyes with a hum

"yeah. but don't hang up, we can just..."

"stay on call again?"

he nods quietly, rolling onto his side and closing his eyes. he hears you shuffling around before you're all tucked into bed too. you hold your phone close to your face—and rin bites the inside of his cheek at the sight.

no one knew it, but rin had trouble falling asleep at the blue lock facility the first night he arrived. the beds weren't too his liking and he was having trouble finding his way around the hundreds of halls that surrounded him—it was a maze, and his body would be tense with unease just about all the time.

the moment he scored enough goals to get electronic privileges, he ignored the weird stares he got and opted for his ipad rather than his phone—the first night he fell asleep soundly was when he fell asleep on a facetime call with you. while it was purely accidental, it worked out for both of you—and now it was your new mini ritual until he was out of here

"night, rinnie. dream of world domination and me, 'kay?" you whisper, and rin smiles with his eyes closed

"goodnight."

isagi wanders back into the shared room an hour later, quietly kicking off his cleats and slipping into his pajamas. he's about to go to sleep when he sees the telltale sign of the dim ipad light glowing from rin's side—he'd fallen asleep on call with you. again.

with a grin, isagi taps the end call button on the dark screen and carefully plugs rin's ipad into the charger, making sure not to wake his sleeping teammate. once that's done, he crawls into his own bed on the other side of the room with a yawn.

isagi was definitely going to tease rin about this in the morning, no doubt. but...it was nice to know his teammate wasn't as heartless as he once thought.

blue lock masterlist :P

[fractoluminescence]

Might be off-topic but this reminds me of something mildly upsetting I've seen a pattern of.

There are people in my life, when I show then something I have made for funsies or because it meant something to me, who immediately point out all the things wrong with it, when I thought I had made it clear I was showing it to them because I was proud of it, not for feedback. Art in particular, but in other areas where one can accomplish things as well.

And when I tell them something along the lines of, "look I know your intentions are good here but the drawing is already made. And I can see where I messed up, and if I can't you're not able to tell me how to fix it, so your advice is basically useless to me"

When I say this. I've had people rebuke me with "but you have to learn to take criticism or you won't improve".

Uh, okay? I can take criticism just fine -when I asked for it-. Not every drawing I make is a study that I am doing to try to improve. I am doing it for enjoyment, and it's exhausting to have a person point out all its flaws every single time.

It's off-topic. Leave me alone. Why did I even show you this in the first place - oh, wait, because I otherwise enjoy your company and make the mistake of forgetting that sharing some of what matters most to me with you is oddly unpleasant. My bad.

I can tell what is wrong with the drawing better than you - I have so much more experience than you with this. This drawing is over, there's no fixing it now. Sure, if I had spent more time on it, if I bothered to redo it, if I somehow managed to understand the volume of the subject of the artwork better ahead of time...if only I was just better at art, really.

Yeah, no shit. If I was better at drawing, then I would draw better. I don't need you to tell me that.

And like. I understand trying to give advice. I have the reflex of doing it too. But then if the person tells me it makes them uncomfortable, I don't start arguing back, like wtf

---

Side note, to explain what link this has to the post - something people don't seem to realize when it comes to learning is that you need to be told what you're doing well just as much as what you're doing wrong. Because otherwise, how can you know that you need to keep doing it? That it's worth the extra effort? And you'll need to know your strengths if you are going to find a way to either work with or surmount your weak spots. And this is true of art, but of anything really.

It's not just a matter of motivation. It's a matter of understanding what you're doing right so that you can oppose a 'wrong' to it that you can avoid doing. Not doing this will sometimes lead to people's skill lagging behind in some areas because they're so busy trying to figure out what they need to learn about that aspect of things when they're in fact doing it fine. You'll have people backtracking on fully reasonable habits just because they mistakenly think a lack of feedback is a lack of good as well.

Give people positive feedback. Please. And hold back on the negative feedback unless it was asked for or is necessary

The mattress company I worked for the first time no longer exists. It was long ago eaten and assimilated by a bigger company. But when I started it was an incredibly intense five weeks of training. I was told I was extremely lucky to be selected, and I was. From a pool of a hundred applicants only fifteen of us made the cut to entering the training program.

The course covered how to talk to customers, how to ask open ended questions, how to close a sale, and product knowledge. I learned a lot, and truthfully my greatest takeaway was a lot of social scripts that I could use in other areas of my life.

We also had a midterm exam and a final. Both included a roleplay element with a trainer and a written portion. They told us when we started that the course was challenging but it was still a shock to come in after the midterm and realize half the class had failed.

I was named valedictorian of training- a dubious honor as it meant I’d done the best in the class, but popular lore had it that valedictorians struggled the most on the sales floor. Lo, I struggled.

Not because I wasn’t good. I was. But because my manager set out to systematically destroy my self esteem. Every sale, every interaction I had was scrutinized and criticized.

If I sold a bed with protectors, moveable base, and pillows he’d ask why I hadn’t managed to sell pillow protectors too. His first trainee had thrived on being challenged and he’d never bothered to learn a different way to coach.

It was wretched. My performance started strong but nosedived after a few weeks with him. My trainer, a man I loathed for stonewalling me in my interview, came in to inform me I was on new hire probation. If I couldn’t get my sales numbers up I’d be let go.

His actual phrasing was, “When you have a bandaid do you like to rip it off or pull it slowly?”

Since it was eminently obvious why he was visiting and because I thought it was condescending I sweetly informed him that I liked to soak my bandaids in hot water so they come off on their own.

He was briefly startled at this derailing but then got on with the bad news. I signed some forms stating that I understood my job was in peril.

I went home furious. I thought long and hard about why I wasn’t succeeding and how frustrated I was with my manager. I came in the next day and my anger had crystallized into a cold sharp edge.

My manager opened his mouth to address the probation and I snapped, “Just leave me alone. Go in the back if I have a sale. If you must address a serious issue then you will give me praise on two things I did right and present it as a compliment sandwich. Otherwise just say good job and shut up. Your constant nitpicking just makes me anxious and I do worse. Back off.” Belated and begrudging I added, “Please.”

He raised his eyebrows in dim surprise but I’d gauged him well. He backed off. Dutifully he’d meander into the back when I had a sale and praised me when I closed it. I resented knowing it was only because I’d demanded complimented but they still boosted me up. My numbers skyrocketed, I landed my first split king sale, and I exited probation with flying colors.

The trainer came back in to congratulate my manager for turning things around. To my gratification he gave me credit for setting him straight and said I’d taught him a different way to lead. My manager would often genuinely praise that moment when I’d stood up to him, impressed with my stubborn refusal to fail and my insight into what would help.

My biggest takeaway from the whole thing was just that people need positive reinforcement to succeed. Praise people for doing a good job. If you’re ever in a position where you need to criticize someone put it in a compliment sandwich instead of just saying the negative.

[mysteryshoptls]

SSR Riddle Rosehearts - Night Sky Chiffon Vignette

"I preferred to see it go"

[Library – Entrance Hall]

Deuce: Mmm, this jam is delicious! It really goes well with the cookies. Here, try some, Housewarden.

Riddle: I believe I told you already that I have no intention of eating in the library.

Deuce: Ah. R-Right. Sorry.

Kalim: But, y'know…

Kalim: We said we'd "cook," so we've put jam on the cookies, made some kebabs and poured tea.

Kalim: We've already gotten this far, so do you really need to keep yourself from chowing down?

Riddle: Obviously.

Riddle: THERE IS NO RULE AGAINST COOKING IN THE LIBRARY AS LONG AS I DO NOT EAT!

Jack: Still feel like it's a pretty big issue… Hm? Actually, yeah, this jam is real good.

Jack: I've never tasted something like this before. What kind of jam is it?

Riddle: Based on the color, I would hazard a guess that it is rose jam. It was made with roses that we all picked just the other day.

Jack: Cool, I didn't know Heartslabyul made fancy things like this. Nice.

Riddle: Indeed. There is a rule that at a specific tea party, scones must be served with rose jam, so…

Jack: Ah, I see. You don't need to elaborate, I got it.

Deuce: Oh yeah, we were supposed to be getting ready for the next tea party after classes today, huh.

Deuce: We gotta get back as soon as we can. Don't want people to think I'm avoiding the prep work.

Riddle: At this rate, I am not only worried about the preparations for the tea party, but whether or not we will be able to make it to even see the tea party…

Jack: Yeah. At least we're getting things delivered to us thanks to the Headmaster's incentives…

Jack: But what I'm worried most about is the lantern making. I don't know if the others'll be able to make them all.

Riddle: Right. I am a little wary of that as well.

Kalim: Don't worry about that. Looks like my guys've got the lanterns covered already.

Riddle: Eh, already? That's wonderful!

Kalim: Yup. See, look at this. I just got this message from Jamil.

Jack/Riddle/Deuce: MM?

Riddle: "How many lanterns constitutes a lot?"

Riddle: …It seems as though he has sent the same message countless times.

Jack: I can hear just how impatient Jamil-senpai is getting here.

Kalim: I was eating, so I just hadn't replied yet. Ahahah!

Riddle: You should respond immediately.

Riddle: …Somehow my worry is increasing. Jack, could you also reach out to your dorm?

Riddle: Tell Leona-senpai that we're counting on him to help make lanterns too.

Jack: Eh, but… I mean…

Riddle: What is the matter? Your voice is unusually stilted.

Jack: Uh, that is… I just didn't want to be that guy who asks for help from the Housewarden all pathetically just 'cause I need it…

Jack: But even then, that doesn't mean I want to rely on other dorms…! Urg, what am I supposed to do?

Riddle: You're a little difficult, aren't you?

Jack: Maybe so, but I don't want to be called that by you of all people, Riddle-senpai…!

Kalim: It'll be fine! Leona won't care about something like that.

Kalim: I bet he'd say like… "Don't worry about it. When you're a pinch, we all have to pitch in… Right?" with a real cool smirk or something.

Jack: He definitely wouldn't.

Riddle: I doubt it.

Riddle: This is Leona-senpai we're speaking of… I feel like he'd more likely make a quip about how ridiculous it is for two Housewardens to be in such a predicament.

Jack: He definitely would.

Deuce: I can't really imagine the Savanaclaw guys all getting together to make lanterns, anyway.

Jack: What's that supposed to mean? You trying to say we're uncultured, or something?

Deuce: On the other hand, we don't nothing to worry about with Heartslabyul! I bet they're all putting their heads together to make some lanterns right now as we speak.

Riddle: I wonder…

Deuce: Eh?

Riddle: When Cater and Trey came by earlier, I did tell them that we were relying on their cooperation, but… I am a tad worried.

Riddle: Perhaps I should send a message out to every one of our students, just in case.

Deuce: A message on top of having them relay your words? What sort of thing would you write?

Riddle: I would order every single person to make 10 lanterns. Anyone who does not comply will receive a harsh punishment…

Deuce: Eeh!? I don't think you'd need to have that sort of punishment at all.

Riddle: Oh, so… You believe that someone like Ace would craft these lanterns of his own volition?

Deuce: Huh?

Deuce: … …......

Deuce: …I think everyone but Ace will definitely make them!

Jack: I mean, I don't think you gotta worry that much, you already told Trey-senpai and Cater-senpai what we need, right?

Jack: I'm sure that's enough. They'll do as their boss tells them to.

Kalim: Yeah, yeah. You don't gotta worry, it'll all be fine.

Riddle: We're very different from Savanaclaw and Scarabia, however.

Riddle: Will they actually help us without some form of repercussion…? I am doubtful.

[Library – Entrance Hall]

Riddle: Urk, ouch. My leg is cramping up…!

Jack: The bit of ballet we did just now used more muscles than I thought we would. We should stretch any sore muscles carefully.

Deuce: We need to do yoga next, right? Maybe we should start out by sitting down and stretching, then.

Kalim: Ooh, great idea! After moving around so much, we should give our bodies a break by stretching out a bit.

Kalim: Okay then, Jack, I'm gonna lean forward, so can you push on my back? I'll do you next!

Jack: Got it. …Woah, you're pretty flexible, Kalim-senpai.

Deuce: Okay, so I'll push on your back then, Housewarden.

Riddle: Right, go ahead.

[stretch]

Riddle: Whew... It seems as though everyone is familiar with some sort of athletics here.

Riddle: I don’t think I lack the basic necessary muscle foundation, myself…

Riddle: But I don't have as much stamina as you or Jack, nor do I have the flexibility that Kalim has.

Riddle: I'd hate to think I am showing you a disgraceful side of me.

Deuce: NOT AT ALL! YOU DID BALLET JUST FINE. I TOTALLY THOUGHT YOU'D BE WORSE THAN YOU WERE!

Riddle: Deuce… Don't you think you are being too honest with your thoughts there?

Deuce: Oh. Really? I meant it to be a compliment…

Riddle: Well, no matter. I may not have had experience with ballet specifically, but I do have some knowledge of social dances.

Riddle: So, perhaps if I seemed "fine" while performing ballet, that may be why.

Deuce: I-I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make fun or anything…!

Riddle: Heh, I'm not mad. …And actually, there was a time in my life when I took gymnastics lessons.

Deuce: What, gymnastics!? Like, you did backflips, or spun around on a bar, or something…!?

Riddle: Haha, never anything that intense.

Riddle: These were simple lessons for young children to build up strength by doing simple tasks such as exercises on a mat or a vaulting horse.

Riddle: I was especially terrible at vaulting… At first, I couldn't time it correctly to brace myself to lift up and would often end up hitting my face hard.

Riddle: Because it would hurt every time I tried, I just couldn't get over that automatic fear response… I believe it took me about half a month before I could finally make the vault.

Riddle: When I think back to it now, I don't think it was any higher than my knees.

Deuce: Ah, I totally get it. You back down from a lug once, and it's not easy to face 'em again.

Riddle: A lug?

Deuce: Ah, no, nevermind… But that's amazing that you were able to keep on practicing even though you were scared, Housewarden.

Riddle: It is said that a one's physical condition is directly related to one's ability to concentrate, so it was a necessary lesson for me to excel in my studies.

Riddle: I quit around the time I was 4 years old, as it had served its purpose by then.

Riddle: Have you never taken any sort of lesson like this?

Deuce: Mmm, I've tried a few things, but none of them really clicked…

Deuce: When I was little, I was having more fun blasting around on my tricycle!

Deuce: My mom always said there was no reason to force me to do anything, so I didn't really…

Deuce: …AH!! Sorry!

Riddle: ? What is with the sudden apology?

Deuce: I wasn't thinking…

Deuce: I WAS TOLD I SHOULD BE CAREFUL TALKING ABOUT MY PARENTS AROUND YOU!

Riddle: …Deuce, I think you're being a little too straightforward again.

Riddle: What you've said may be the case, but you probably shouldn't say that part out loud, especially to me.

Deuce: Eh, ah, sorry.

Riddle: I'm not bothered. There's really no reason to worry.

Riddle: Even today, the fact that I was even able to do the bare minimum with ballet was all thanks to my mother, who made sure that I would build core muscles.

Riddle: I am grateful for my mother's discipline, since it has allowed me to become who I am today.

Deuce: Really?

Deuce: I see… I guess moms are pretty strong in every family!

Riddle: Heh… Yes, you're right. I agree with you there.

Deuce: Okay… That should be enough stretching. I'll press harder on your back now, so let me know if it hurts!

Riddle: Alright.

[streeeeetch]

Riddle: I am grateful for my mother. …That is why I worry about the lantern-making.

Riddle: They don't have my watchful eye, nor any punishment looming over them. Will they actually be able to make anything properly?

[Heartslabyul Dorm – Lounge]

Trey: …So, to sum up, it looks like we all need to make lanterns to help Riddle and Deuce escape from the library.

Cater: Let's all work together to get it all done! Yeah!

[silence]

[Heartslabyul Dorm – Lounge]

Cater: Let's all work together to get it all done! Yeah!

[silence]

Heartslabyul Student A: Even if you tell us that… I'm a little busy with my club activities.

Heartslabyul Student B: There's other things I want to get done, and besides, I don't want to do something as lame as making lanterns.

Trey: I'm sure everyone has their own plans, but I'm hoping for a little help here.

Trey: It'd be bad if Riddle and Deuce can't come back to the dorm like this.

Ace: I meaaaaan, would it really be thaaat bad～? Kinda nice not having Deuce around, in my book.

Cater: Who was the one who went all the way to the library with Trey-kun, hm? Methinks you doth protest too much, Ace-chan.

Ace: That wasn't to help Deuce out! I just thought it'd be bad if the Housewarden was gone, that's all.

Cater: Yep, mhm, I believe you. I'm sure everyone else would also think it was bad if Riddle-kun wasn't here.

Heartslabyul Student C: Really, though? I feel like it's be much easier not having to hear about the Queen of Hearts' laws, or getting told off about any rules here and there.

Heartslabyul Student A: Yeah, yeah! He might be a bit better now than when school first started, sure… But it's still too strict here!

Trey: …So, can someone do his job, then?

Heartslabyul Student A: We got a Vice Housewarden for that.

Cater: I guess I can understand why all you younger folk would think that, sure～ But what about the other juniors?

Cater: You guys really think we can keep on going without Riddle-kun?

Heartslabyul Student B/D: …......

Heartslabyul Student B: Ever since Riddle became Housewarden, it's been real rigid and I got tons of problems with the way things are… But it's definitely better than it used to be.

Heartslabyul Student D: Yeah. And my grades have been getting better thanks to him providing test prep and fixing our reports without us even asking for it.

Trey: Right? I even heard that he was planning on holding a study session tomorrow for those who've gotten failing marks.

Heartslabyul Student A: Urk.

Cater: So basically, that means everyone needs Riddle after all, right?

Heartslabyul Students: …

Ace: …Fiiiiine.

Ace: Guess there wouldn't be any other weirdo out there who'd do stuff like that without waiting to be asked like the Housewarden, so.

Ace: Let's help him out and make some lanterns!

Ace: …Oh, and for Deuce, too.

Cater: Mhm, yep, he's an afterthought. Totally, gotcha.

Trey: Alright, it's been decided. Let's all get to work.

Heartslabyul Students: YES, SIR!

Kalim: The boat's been returned, so all's we gotta do is head back to campus! Glad we made it.

Jack: Take a look, there's still lanterns in the air. We probably can walk back without any streetlights.

Riddle: Indeed. There truly were a large number of them afloat.

Deuce: …Rosehearts-ryōchō, I heard from [Yuu] just a bit ago.

Deuce: Apparently, most of the lanterns were made by the Heartslabyul students!

Riddle: Is that so? It was good we let Trey and Cater know, then.

Deuce: Yeah, that's true… But more than that, it means that Heartslabyul's teamwork is top notch!

Riddle: Right… Yes, you're right. Everyone came together even without any penalties for failing.

Riddle: Perhaps it was all because I always lead with a firm hand. Everyone did as they were asked because I was correct.

Riddle: But what if… What if there was some other reason…?

[trip]

Riddle: WAH!

Kalim: Woah, you okay?

Riddle: Ah, yes… I tripped on my hair and almost fell. Thank you, Kalim.

Kalim: No worries! But that does look pretty difficult to walk around with. Want me to call the carpet after all?

Riddle: No, there's no need. Rather than us, I preferred to see it go with Vorpal on his trip back earlier.

Deuce: Speaking of… Why did that princess grow her hair out so long to use as a rope?

Deuce: I'd think that the witch woulda been suspicious if she was growing her hair out like that trying to escape…

Jack: Don't you remember the book from the library said that she was told by the witch to grow it out?

Deuce: Oh, is that what it said?

Deuce: It must've been hard dealing with hair that long, and she still listened to what she was told…

Deuce: I guess the Princess in the Tower really did think the witch was a good mother.

Deuce: …AH!! SORRY, AGAIN, I…!

Riddle: You don't need to exclaim every single time. I told you already that I'm paying it no mind.

Riddle: …

Riddle: …Although, no matter how precious she may have taken care of her hair, it truly is cumbersome. There's no way I can continue walking with this.

Riddle: …Alright.

[snip!!]

[flutter]

Deuce/Kalim/Jack: !?

Deuce: W-wait… Housewarden, what are you doing!?

Riddle: What's wrong?

Deuce: Y-Your hair! Did you just chop it all off with your magic!?

Riddle: That's right. We've resolved our library dilemma, so there should be no issue with cutting it.

Jack: But… That was a bit too much! Even I think that straight cut looks terrible!

Riddle: Eh. D-Does it look weird…?

Deuce/Jack: YES, IT LOOKS WEIRD!!

Deuce: Uggh… We need to find scissors before we get back to the dorm. I'll fix it.

Deuce: I can't let the others in the dorm see our boss-man look this lame!

Riddle: IS IT THAT BAD!?

Kalim: Ahahah, it's awesome how decisive you are, Riddle!

Kalim: You look like a whole lot of weight's off your shoulders. Maybe I should cut mine too?

Jack: That'll probably just start up even more problems. Kalim-senpai, please wait to get it cut by Jamil-senpai.

Riddle: There's no need for such a fuss. I had no more need for long hair.

Riddle: Our first priority should be to head back to the dorm.

Deuce: We'll make it in time for after-croquet tea, so we really need to fix it up before then…!

Riddle: Yes, there's the tea, but there's many other things to be done as well, is there not?

Riddle: We should return posthaste and reward our dormmates who put their utmost into making all these lanterns.

Requested by @farfalla049.

[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.

[nottslove]

THE OTHER GUYS (part two) → part one.

Pairing: theo nott x malfoy reader

Warnings: VERY VERY LONG!!!!! 18+, mdni, smut, some fluff, a bit of angst, draco's little sister, brother's bsf, mean theo, dirty talk, oral, m. receiving, choking, gagging, heavy cursing, drug use (theo smoking), corruption kink, degrading, praising, google-translated italian, porn with plot, obsessive/possessive theo, innocent reader, inexperienced reader x very experienced theo, lowercaps intended. SMUT UNDER THE CUT!!

Summary: theo goes back to ignoring you at hogwarts, and you have no idea why, so this time, you find another way to grab his attention...

Author's note: this is a part two to the other girls→ part one. i would recommend reading part one, but if you don't, that's okay too. i decided to write a part two to this since a lot of people asked me to, and as a big, big thank you for 900+ notes on part one. so, thank you so much guys!! i hope you enjoy this.

THEODORE Nott was an asshole. You had come to realize that the hard way. All your life, you had loved him, put him on a pedestal, making excuses for his faults and habits, your love for him completely blinding you from seeing anything else but perfection.

Not anymore. Ever since the little moment you shared at Christmas, he had been completely ignoring you. Not even like before, where he'd give you a little nod or greeting.

No, he pretended like you didn't even exist.

Any time you'd approach him, he'd walk right past you, pretending you were invisible. And when you began following him around, trying to get his attention, you heard one of his friends ask him why you were suddenly following him around.

"Looks like you've got yourself an admirer," Mattheo jested, pointing to your figure trailing behind Theo's. "I think Malfoy's little sister's got a crush on you..."

"What a fucking baby," he drawled arrogantly, making all his friends laugh when he rudely told you to leave him alone and stop following him around. "Go away, Baby Malfoy, and stop fucking stalking me. It's creepy."

His friends howled with laughter— it was a good thing Draco wasn't there, or else he would have beaten Theo to the pulp.

Your eyes welled up as you stood there frozen, unable to move. Your gray eyes filled with tears, and your lips puckered into a pout. The red, hot sensation of humiliation coursed through your veins, and your fingers began to tremble slightly.

Your blonde curls framed your face perfectly, and you wore a white, pleated skirt and a baby pink button-up sweater, which made you look like a doll— especially with your proper, white, thigh-high stockings you wore underneath, paired with your rose-gold pumps.

"Aww, look Nott, you made her cry," Berkshire commented, noticing the way the tears balanced in your eyes.

Theo moved closer to you, his tall frame towering over yours as he looked into your eyes with his merciless, dark blue ones.

"Poor Baby Malfoy," Theo scoffed. "Such a fucking cry-baby... Can't even take a fucking joke."

His friends guffawed, making you feel worse, and a tear spilled down your cheek as you glared at Theo with as much hatred as you could muster.

"I hate you," you said quietly, loud enough for only Theo to hear your words, before you sniffled and wiped your tears with the back of your hand. "Don't you dare ever come near me again."

And without waiting for Theo's witty retort, you turned on your heel and walked away, holding back the tears that threatened to spill down your cheeks.

You meant it. Every word.

No longer were you going to make excuses for his bad behavior— it was time for you to move on.

Sure, you had loved Theo since you were three, but he was no longer the same person.

Seasons change, and so do people.

Still, his public rejection stung, deflating your ego by a sizeable chunk.

Now you didn't care about Theo's attention any more. You had given him your time, attention and love, and he had rejected it, ridiculing you and embarrassing you in front of all his friends.

But once things mulled over, and you tried to force your feelings for Theo away, you realized things weren't that easy.

You still loved him.

It wasn't possible to get rid of feelings that had manifested in you for years and years, growing with time instead of fading away.

And Theo??

Well, he'd continued his life as if your feelings meant nothing to him. As if you meant nothing to him.

It exasperated you. It hurt you.

Watching him hang around with several different girls every day, pretending you did not exist.

As the approaching Hogsmeade weekend drew nearer, you found yourself constantly being asked out by other guys.

You rejected the first two, wanting to go out only with Theo, and no one else.

And then it hit you.

Why were you moping over someone who didn't care if you existed or not??

You were the only one losing out.

And so, when the Ravenclaw Quidditch captain asked you out, you said yes, desperate to drive a particular Slytherin with dark blue eyes away from your mind.

But that wasn't your only intention. Perhaps a small part of you said yes to Roger Davies was so that Theo would notice you, and feel an ounce of the jealousy you felt when you saw him with other girls.

Roger was the perfect gentleman. He held doors open for you, gave you his jacket even though you told him you weren't too cold, pulled out your chair for you, paid for your meal, and even kept his arm respectfully at your waist.

There was just one problem.

He wasn't Theo.

All throughout your date, your gaze would slide away to Theo, looking at the two girls that sat on either side of him in a cozy booth, with his hands possessively at their hips, a cigarette hanging from his lips.

He, of course, was so enamored with his harlots, as you liked to call them, that he paid no attention to you and Roger.

And even when he spotted Roger walking you back, he said nothing.

And though you'd describe your date as perfect in every other aspect, when Roger asked you if you would like to hang out a second time, you told him you would think about it.

But there was no thinking about it. It was evident, Theo was the only one you wanted.

Roger was the guy you deserved, the guy who deserved you, who made you feel like a queen, a princess.

He just wasn't Theo.

The next morning, you were completely surprised to see Roger unharmed.

It confused you, seeing as normally, Theo would beat up every boy who would ask you out.

It irked you, why he hadn't touched Roger, though you felt like a horrible person wishing for a perfect gentleman like Roger to get beaten up for no reason.

Whilst you watched Theo from afar, moving on with his life, you realized he simply didn't care.

And so, when the next Hogsmeade visit came around, Roger asked you out again, and you agreed, this time, fully intending to enjoy yourself with Roger.

With that open mindset, you realized he was a wonderful person. He was smart, funny, entertaining and handsome— perfect.

You enjoyed your second date a lot more, and slowly, you found yourself opening your doors to the idea of falling for Roger.

For Valentine's day, he even sent you a bouquet of the most exotic flowers, a mix of both tropical and garden flowers.

The old you would have cast a glance towards the Slytherin table, trying to see Theo's reaction, but the new you didn't care.

Your eyes locked with Roger's across the Great Hall, and he winked at you, causing you to blush, giggle and smile.

Little did you know, this little, sweet exchange had been caught by Theo's dark blue eyes.

The only reason you were dating Roger now was because Theo hadn't landed that bastard in the Hospital wing, and he hadn't done this because he never saw Roger Davies as a real threat.

However, when his eyes caught the way you blushed and giggled when the fucktard had winked, he knew he had to step in before your feelings for the Ravenclaw grew.

You had zero knowledge of Theo's plan. In fact, you had almost forgotten about the Slytherin completely, you found yourself daydreaming about Roger quite often.

You could say that you had begun to catch feelings for the Quidditch Captain. After all, who wouldn't?

He was perfect. In every, single way.

This time, it was you who asked Roger if he would like to go to Hogsmeade with you, and he laughed.

"I thought it was obvious that we were going together.." he chuckled, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.

"Oh," you replied, feeling rather dumb.

"Merlin, you're so cute," the older wizard replied, gently kissing your nose. "I'll pick you up in the courtyard at five, alright?"

You were there at the courtyard, beside the fountain ten minutes to five.

And when five rolled around, Roger was nowhere to be seen.

Still, you waited for a little longer, wondering if something had perhaps held him up.

At six, still no Roger.

You didn't know what forced you to stay outside, perhaps you lost track of time, or perhaps you accepted the reality that Roger had stood you up.

You waited until after dark.

It started raining.

Your spirits had been dampened along with your clothes. All the effort you had taken to get ready— gone.

You could barely distinguish between the tears on your face and the rainwater that had drenched you.

It was dinner time, but you weren't hungry for anything but answers— why had Roger stood you up??

You got your answer when you were face to face with your unconscious boyfriend after Luna Lovegood led you to the hospital wing.

He was injured— badly. He had a black eye, a split lip and bruises all over his face, neck and hands. Madam Pomfrey also informed you that he sported three broken ribs and a cracked jaw.

Roger awoke the next morning. When you heard the news, you instantly rushed to the Hospital Wing, to check on him, ask him if he was alright.

You didn't expect him to break up with you.

"But, why?" you asked softly, you lower lip jutting out into a pout as your eyes began to water.

It had hurt. So fucking much.

"I'm really sorry... You're an amazing girl, and I really, really like you, but I don't want to end up here again... Nott said if I come near you again, he'd kill me.."

You froze.

"He said what?" your throat was dry, your voice hoarse— you simply couldn't believe your ears.

"Excuse me, I'm going to have a word with him!" you said angrily, filled with sudden rage from an unknown source.

With that, you stormed off.

As usual, you found Theo and his friends in their usual hangout spot, the dungeons, outside the common room, where they all got together and smoked.

Before he could notice your arrival, let alone say anything, you barged past his friends and raised your hand, connecting your palm with his cheek.

A satisfying smack sounded, and the tips of your fingers burned— you really had slapped him hard.

His friends oohed and aahed, and Theo shot them all a glare, rendering them silent.

"Fuck off," he told his friends, making a dismissing signal with two of his fingers, and you softened slightly, remembering how he had touched you with those fingers, how he had curled them to reach that spot that made you see stars.

However, with the way he shrugged, looking absolutely unbothered, all your anger for him suddenly came back.

"I hate you!" you growled, lifting your hand again to slap him, trying to get a rise out of him, a reaction— anything!

Before her palm connected with his face, Theo's quick reflexes ensured his fingers clasped around you wrist firmly, stopping your movements.

"Is there a reason for this sudden loss of temperament, Doll?" he drawled, drawing out a breath that was polluted with cigarette smoke.

"Why'd you do that to Roger?" you asked, wrenching your hand away from his grasp, your jaw clenched.

You didn't know what you were expecting, in all honesty, but it surely wasn't Theo acknowledging his mistake and apologizing.

Of course, he played clueless. Leaning back, he slouched against the wall, taking a drag of his cigarette and letting out a puff of smoke that made you cough.

"You'll need to be more specific, Baby," Theo drawled, gently rubbing your cheek with the back of his ringed fingers.

You hated the effect he had on you. You hated the fact that you became putty the moment he laid a single finger on you.

This time, you didn't cave in— you knew his game.

"Don't fucking touch me!" you hissed, slapping his hand away, though the echoes of his touch still lingered. "Why did you beat Roger up? What did he ever do to you?"

Theo's jaw clenched, obviously with the way you seemed so intent on fighting for Roger.

"I'm protecting you," Theo remarked. "As your older brother's best friend— you don't know what kind of guy he is..."

"Oh, and you do?" you asked, placing your hands on your hips. "Enlighten me, Nott, what kind of guy is Roger?"

The Nott boy only seemed more enraged by your question; it was evident in the way his nostrils flared the slightest bit, and how he held on to the cigarette with slight aggression...

"He's only using you. You don't see it, but he just wants to get in your pants," Theo seethed, taking a step closer to you and towering over your presence with his tall, dominating figure. "He wants to claim your virginity, like he's done with so many other girls before."

Theo's words hit you like a tidal wave. This time, your hand lifted up by its own accord and slapped Theo across the face again, and you felt the tips of your ears heat up with the anger that flooded through you.

"And you don't?" you found yourself biting back, unsure of where this newfound courage came from. "You think you're any different? Using me to get your dick hard then ignoring me for months?"

Your voice was hoarse as you laid the blatant truth out there, and your anger had turned to sadness and betrayal, and most of all— hurt. Tears pricked at your eyes, but you didn't relent. You continued to stare at Theo with utter hatred in your eyes.

But you were oblivious to his stares, to the way his fists balled up until the veins in his forearms protruded.

You kept on speaking, laying out all your feelings, once and for all, tears spilling down your pretty cheeks.

"Roger has never once placed a hand below my waist, never once made me feel unwanted, never, never, never—" you continued, your voice breaking slightly, as you spoke, overwhelmed by all the emotion.

"You just had to go and ruin my fucking life, the moment I started to fall for him—"

At this, a small sob slipped past your lips. You liked this guy, you really, really liked him, and Theo had ruined it all for you.

Theo's gaze had darkened the moment you said these words, and it was his turn to launch into a monologue.

"If I can't fucking have you, then no one else can," he growled darkly, pressing you to the wall and domineering himself over you, casting a shadow on your petite frame. "Are we fucking clear?"

You weakly pushed him away, his words causing your knees to buckle slightly as all the fight left you.

"You don't want me— you made that clear enough already," you accused, your voice cracking as you try to dodge out of his grasp. "And I should have seen it earlier, but I was just too blinded by my love for you!" your voice grows slightly higher in pitch, and you didn't realize what you'd just said until it was too late.

Realization flickered in Theo's dark blue gaze for a brief moment, before it faded away.

"You think I don't fucking want you?" he replied hoarsely, sounding far too pained by the way he was the cause for your tears, for your despair, when he had spent the brunt of his Hogwarts years hitting everyone who had ever hurt you behind your back.

"You think it was fucking easy?? Having to hear your pretty little moans when you came all over my fucking hand, and not being able to do more?" he growled, grabbing your jaw in his one hand and upturning it slightly, forcing you to look at him.

You stood frozen, not knowing where he was going with this. "You think I enjoy it, watching Roger touch what's mine?"

A tear spilled down your cheeks as you stifled a sob, but you said nothing, too frozen in place to do anything but listen to his words.

"Ever since Christmas...." he breathed, releasing your jaw, caging you in between his arms as he leaned in closer to you, until you could smell his aftershave. "Ever since Christmas, I've been trying to get that image of you out of my mind... Spread all over my lap as you drench my fucking fingers— moaning my name..."

You visited that night frequently too, when you had your fingers between your thighs at night, getting yourself off whilst imagining Theo's dark, intense stare.

He held in a sharp intake of breath, shaking his head. "Wanna know how I jerk off to that image every, single fucking night? How I imagine being the first to fill that pretty, little hole of yours?"

His words awakened all the previous feelings you had for him, and you found yourself shivering slightly as you clenched your thighs together, feeling your panties dampen slightly.

If Theo noticed, he didn't say a word— he was still continuing to speak. "Been thinking about you nonstop, since that night," he confessed, his voice taking up a low, dulcet tone as he leaned in, nose brushing your neck as he inhaled your scent. "About how you'd look, spread all over my bed as you moan my fucking name," he rumbled.

You let out a small whimper at his words, pressing your lips together, and you could feel his words affecting you as the slick between your thighs grew.

Him being so close didn't help either.

"But I can't have you, Doll," he breathed, lips dipping slightly to brush against your neck as you felt him inhale again. "Your brother would kill me... That's why I had to ignore you, make you hate me so you'd stop following me around, stop looking at me with hopeful eyes..." He paused, and his expression looked pained, like he couldn't bear to confess his thoughts and feelings.

"But then you got with that other guy, and God.... seeing you with Davies was fucking hard— at first, I tried to convince myself he was the right choice for you, but I couldn't do it— I was too fucking selfish to let anyone else have you..."

You felt the tears spill down your cheeks and you suppressed a small sob, at the rush of emotions that flooded through you at his admissions.

"You're a coward," you accused him, your voice laced with a slight whine. "And you made me feel like it was my fault— all because you didn't have the fucking courage to be a man—"

Those words were Theo's breaking point, and you heard him growl. He didn't let you finish as he dragged you to the nearest empty classroom and locked the door, away from prying eyes and nosy stares.

"Didn't have the fucking courage to be a man, huh?" Theo echoed, mocking your previous words as he towered over you, firmly gripping your chin, forcing you to look at him.

You took a step back, your back colliding with the door as you met his gaze. The soft look in his eyes was gone, replaced by a glare that questioned your audacity to question his masculinity.

He wasn't thrilled. You always, always managed to get on his nerves, whether it was with your mouth, or with some outfit you donned, that always made you look so fucking adorable.

"I'll have you know, I'm more of a man than that stupid Ravenclaw of yours will ever be," he rumbled, and the look in his eyes told you he was fucking pissed.

"I don't think so," you hissed, turning around and fidgeting with the lock of the door, trying to open it and escape the prison Theo had put you in.

He harshly grabbed your arm and turned you around, until your back collided with the door as he glared at you, jaw clenched, placing a hand on either side, effectively caging you in with no escape. "No, no, not gonna work like that, Doll— you're not going anywhere..."

You could feel your teeth clap together as you stared at him angrily, yet at the same time, the tips of your ears turned red, and the sinking feeling in your stomach told you that you were trapped.

"Not until you let me prove exactly how much better I am than Davies..."

You crossed your arms over your chest, refusing to listen to him. It was at this point that you could see exactly how manipulative he was, trying to keep you tethered to him, refusing to you to love anyone else but him, yet not giving you any love in return.

"I can give you a few points," you replied cattily, your words aiming to wound him just as much as he had hurt you. "One, he isn't a coward. Two, he knows what he wants. Three—"

Theo didn't let you get to three.

Before you began speaking, he had already snapped his hips forward, and a surprised gasp left you as he quickly wrapped a hand around your neck, announcing that he was clearly the one in control in this room and asserting his dominance.

"Three, he has a much smaller dick," Theo snapped abruptly, driving his hips forwards slightly, rutting into you so you could feel exactly how big he was, how hard he was underneath his trousers.

You could feet his bulge pressing into your stomach, right above your core, where you needed it the most.

Nott took advantage of your momentarily shocked state to dip his head low, until his lips brushed against your ear.

"You feel that, Doll? See how big it is? It's gonna fucking ruin you..." he rumbled, rolling his lips slightly forward, making you whimper slightly as you clenched your thighs.

You said nothing, your eyes fluttering shut as you bit your lip to silence your tiny, desperate whines.

A cruel chuckle left his lips at your silence, which only fueled his enjoyment.

"Cat got your tongue?" he drawled, his ringed fingers sliding underneath your skirt and gripping the back of your thigh, cold rings searing into your warm skin.

"Where's the fucking smart mouth of yours?" he mocked, teeth grazing against your collarbone, eliciting a small moan from you as his cologne and aftershave flooded your senses.

His words triggered a sudden urge in you to prove him wrong. "Fuck you," you spat.

That was all it took for his hand to grip your throat and force you down to your knees, leaving no room for arguments or protests.

You gasped, too stunned to to anything but remain frozen to the floor, in utter shock.

"Let's put that pretty little mouth to better use," he grunted, using his hand on your neck to bring you closer, causing your nose to collide with his groin. "Show me what a good girl you can be and maybe, just maybe I'll reward you..."

You knew what he was asking for. But your blood tingled with nervousness, and your mouth ran dry.

You had no idea how to do this— you'd never done it before.

And Theo knew. Still, he looked at you with mock surprise, dark blue gaze boring into you, as if he were waiting for you to say something to challenge his authority.

"Is something the matter, Doll?" he drawled, playing clueless to your inexperience.

Theo was in control here, he was pulling every string, and you knew it.

You nodded, looking up at him, heat pooling in your stomach. "I d-don't— I've never... I don't know how—"

You were stuttering, so nervous.

Panic filled you at the situation you had gotten yourself into, staring up at Theo with your wide, silvery eyes and perfectly pouty, glossed lips.

He chuckled softly, and for a moment, brief tenderness flickered in his dark blue gaze.

Well, since you used your words and asked so nicely..." he trailed off, rubbing your cheek with the back of his hand. "I'll go easy on you just this once, Principessa, since it's your first time..."

You swallowed thickly, every touch of his driving you insane. It irked you, how one moment he could be so mean and cruel, and the next, he was all sweet smiles and soft caresses.

"Take my pants off," he instructed, slight affection lacing his tone.

You looked up at him, for a brief moment before your hands drifted up on their own, fingers unbuttoning his pants and pulling down his zip, which was rather difficult seeing as his pants were completely stretched out by the size of his hardened girth.

"Good girl," he praised, thumb pressing softly against your lower lip. "Now the boxers."

The soft pad of his thumb smudged your lip gloss, as your fingers hooked around the waistband of his boxers, and your mouth ran dry as you slowly began tugging them down, trembling slightly with nervousness.

A hitch blistered in your throat when you saw Theo's dick for the first time, and Merlin— he wasn't kidding when he said it would fucking ruin you.

It sprang free from his boxers, slapping against his stomach and making him emit a quiet hiss from his lips. Beads of precum slid down the veiny length to his balls, and you were rendered speechless once more, your mouth completely dry.

Your dumbfounded expression only caused Theo to chuckle softly, gently patting the side of your face with his hand.

"Who knew, all it took was a little dick to keep that pretty little mouth quiet, hmm?" he muttered. "Per me è una vera sgualdrina…"

His large hand wrapped around his girth, and he gave his cock a few pumps quietly hissing in pleasure.

"Take me in your hands now, come on, Principessa, don't be shy..." he cooed, encouraging you to relax for him a little.

You nodded, tentatively bringing your one hand to wrap around the base of his length, clenching your thighs when he moaned loudly, not even hiding his desire for you.

"Fuck— proprio così..." he rasped, and you could feel him throbbing in your hand, as you slowly ran your fingers down his length, tracing over his every vein.

He guided the tip to your lips, slowly dragging the pink flesh across your plump lips, causing your lip gloss to smudge and mingle with his precum.

"Apri la bocca, open up that pretty mouth for me, Doll—" he murmured, and his other hand flew to the back of your neck as he led your head closer, rings pressing into your warm skin and causing you to shiver.

As you looked up at him, you could see the quiet traces of pleasure that laced his features as he guided his cock to your mouth, and you suddenly had the unwavering urge to please him, make him forget all those other girls.

Your lips parted, and the slightly salty taste of his precum grazed against your tongue as the tip of his dick filled your mouth.

"Good girl," he praised, tapping your cheek twice, "wrap those pretty lips around me— fuck, just like that..."

Once you got used to having him in your mouth, your tongue lightly traced over the tip of his lick, causing him to nearly buck his hips into your mouth.

"Now suck—" he grunted. "Fuck Doll, it's not gonna fit, use both hands..."

You brought both your hands to grip the base of his cock as you slowly began so suck, your pinky finger grazing against his balls, drawing out his pleasure.

Curses spewed from his lips in both English and Italian, which only fueled you to do better, and you pressed your head further down, trying to take more of him into your mouth.

As you sucked, your tongue pressed against the sensitive underside of his cock, and Theo was doing everything in his power to hold himself back from losing control and mercilessly fucking your mouth.

"Shit— shit, baby girl— doing so fucking well— you look so Goddamn perfect with my cock filling your pretty little mouth—" he groaned, fist tightening in your hair as he rutted his hips into your mouth, causing the tip of his cock to press against the back of your throat.

You gagged, tears springing to your eyes, and the sight was enough to make Theo almost cum in your mouth.

"Now bob your head, up and down, just like that," he instructed, using the hand at the back of your neck and his grip on your hair to guide your movements before allowing you to resume control.

Saliva dribbled down your chin in masses, and tears streamed down your cheeks with every time his cock hit the back of your throat. You choked and gagged, and every little sound you made was driving Theo insane.

Sweat beaded at your forehead, and your baby hairs clung to your brow, and you slid your teary gaze up to meet his eyes, and that was the moment Theo died internally.

He had thought of you so many times like this, touched himself at the thought of branding you as his personal slut, his personal fucktoy.

He had longed to cover your pretty little tongue with his thick seed, fill that mouth of yours, and this sight before him was a dream come true.

"Fuck— fuck— Doll, I'm so close," he rasped, bucking his lips into your mouth involuntarily, causing you to gag again, and another wad of saliva slid down your chin and dripped down your neck. "Doing so good—"

He had lost all ability to even look at the sight before him, head thrown back against the wall with a soft thud, eyes closed tightly, his stomach rising and falling with his irregular breathing.

He couldn't concentrate on anything except your warm, wet mouth around his cock, bringing him closer to release and sending his mental state into spirals.

"I'm gonna cum inside your mouth," he warned you, but you didn't relent. "Cazzo, cazzo, Principessa— mi ucciderai..."

Before you knew it, his thighs shook slightly, and the salty taste of his cum hit your tongue, as he filled his mouth with your seed.

He shivered as your cheeks stretched slightly, accumulating his release before they emptied, and a sharp moan of desire left his lips when you swallowed as much as you could, the rest dripping down your chin.

He pulled his dick out with a soft pop, but you didn't let go, not yet. You licked your lips, and ran your tongue across the length of his cock, cleaning every bit of the sinful mess the two of you created.

He tried to calm down, to regulate his breathing, and once he composed himself, he instantly pulled up his pants, sliding his belt back into place.

Then, he crouched down to where you were on the floor, still on your knees, eyes closed and trying to breathe evenly, trying to ignore your obvious need for him between your thighs.

You opened your eyes when you felt Theo softly hold on to your shoulders.

"Are you okay, Baby girl?" he murmured softly, using his tie to slowly wipe the mess on your chin and neck, lips softly brushing against your forehead. "God— you did so well for me, looked so fucking pretty on your knees for me—"

You nodded, basking in the golden glory of his praise, letting him pamper you just a little. His hands straightened your clothes out, and your hair, with tender touches, and you were surprised to see this side of Theo that came out just for you, and only for you.

His large hands softly cupped your cheeks as he made you look into his eyes, searching for any signs of injury or discomfort.

"Can I kiss you, pretty girl?" he breathed softly, his nose brushing against yours.

You nodded, and his lips connected with yours, engaging you in a liplock that was both passionate and lustful, his lips worshipping yours and causing you to let out a soft moan.

Theo softly chuckled once more, hand drifting to your inner thigh, underneath your skirt.

"You need me, Doll?" he whispered huskily, fingers gently grazing over your sensitive folds over the thin, soaked fabric of your panties, causing you to let out a soft whimper.

He kissed you again, helping you to your feet, allowing you to grip him for balance. His lips brushed against yours ever so softly.

"You deserve a reward for that, did so fucking good," he promised, tucking a strand of hair behind your ears. "How about you go freshen up, and I'll see you tonight outside the room of requirement, hmm?

"Okay," you murmured, clearing your throat as the blush on your features grew darker.

And as you opened the door, you heard Theo's voice call after you.

"And don't hang out with other guys..."

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©nottslove 2025. do not copy, steal or claim any works/graphics as your own.

[shyoko]

☆Mornings with Enhypen. ☆

This writing is my own; no copies, adaptations, or translations are allowed. (English is not my first language.)

hii! I know last time I did a poll about what chapter you wanted, and the most voted one was a Sunghoon oneshot. I’ve got most of it written, but I’m trying to write the smut part, and I just can’t, lol. I’m not good at writing that kind of thing; I’m more into soft stuff, as you’ve probably already seen. So I ask for a bit of patience while I try to figure out how to write it. Thanks for waiting and for your support! XD

Still, since I don't want to leave you without a chapter, here’s this one. I hope you like it! love u ❤❤❤

Heeseung☆!

Ah, he really wakes up late and hates when you pull away from him while he’s resting, as he finds it impossible to sleep without the warmth of your body against his.

When your alarm interrupted your deep sleep, you couldn’t do anything but turn it off and decide to get out of bed to make it to work on time.

But something stopped you from leaving the bed: Heeseung’s long, strong arms, trapping you against his body. A soft groan escaped his lips. "It’s too early, baby. Come back to sleep for me, okay?" he asked tenderly.

"Baby, you know I can’t, I have to get to work soon," you replied, trying to break free from his strong grip. With some effort, you managed to free yourself and sat up.

The bed shifted right behind you, where Heeseung had been sleeping soundly. He had now sat up comfortably, watching you change. "Baby, rest. You still have a few hours before you have to get up," you said sweetly, trying to get him to rest a little longer.

"You know I can't sleep without you," he said with a pout on his lips and his arms crossed.

"You're such a crybaby, Hee," you said with a playful smile.

jay☆!

He usually wakes up early and makes breakfast for both of you while you get up and get ready for work.  

 Your body turned in bed, instinctively seeking the warmth of your boyfriend. But it was in vain. There was no warm figure there to embrace you. A soft hum came from the kitchen, and peace returned to your body. For a moment, you feared he had already left for work, like so many mornings, leaving you alone to get ready. You hated that. You loved sharing mornings with him.

You got up and walked to the kitchen, where the silhouette of your boyfriend moved naturally as he cooked. On the stove, the sweet scent of pancakes filled the air. Without thinking twice, you approached him and wrapped your arms around his waist, resting your head on his bare back. His body gave a slight jolt but quickly relaxed. A soft laugh vibrated in his chest before he took one of your hands and lifted it to kiss the back of it gently.

"How did my baby sleep?" he asked sweetly, turning off the stove. "You should go get dressed while I finish breakfast," he added in his raspy voice, still heavy from just waking up. He loved pampering you in every way possible, but taking care of you in the mornings was, without a doubt, one of his favorites.

Jake☆!

As soon as you wake up, he notices the lack of warmth in the bed and decides to follow you around the house like a little puppy as you go through your morning routine.

 You wake up carefully, gently moving Jake’s limbs that are still tangled with yours. His embrace gives you an incomparable warmth, the kind that makes it so hard to leave behind each morning.

The moment he feels the absence of your body, his hand reaches out across the bed, searching for the warmth that was there just moments ago. His eyes, still heavy with sleep, slowly open until they find you. A smile lights up his face as he sees you are still nearby.

It doesn’t take more than a minute before he gets up and follows you around the house. Jake can’t stand being away from you, especially not at this hour. Every time you stop—whether to brush your teeth or have breakfast—his instincts lead him to find you. Without hesitation, he snuggles against your back, wrapping his arms around your waist and resting his head on your shoulder. From time to time, he lets out soft sighs and leaves gentle kisses on your neck.

In the mornings, he’s not much for words. The only things you’ll hear from him are whispers of "I love you" and the occasional groan when you try to move away. Jake is so affectionate that, until you walk out the door, his arms will stay wrapped around you

Sunghoon☆!

Sunghoon and you always open your eyes at the same time in the morning. He loves sharing a morning routine with you so much that he will wake up hours before his work starts just to be with you.

 Your mornings are always romantic and sweet. As you open your eyes and turn to Sunghoon, you expect to find his still sleepy face, the one you’ve come to adore so much. When your gazes meet, a small laugh escapes both of you, filling the room with warmth.

You stretch your arms and legs, trying to shake off the sleep, but Sunghoon wastes no time. Before you can move too much, he’s already wrapped you in his arms, showering your face with soft kisses. His small laughs between each kiss make you smile, turning the morning into an even more special moment.

From the moment you both wake up, everything is done together. Preparing breakfast, eating, brushing your teeth, showering... any routine becomes lighter when you’re with each other. Between each task, Sunghoon finds ways to show his affection: little nudges with his hips, his fingers intertwined with yours, stolen kisses on any exposed part of your skin.

He may not be as affectionate outside the house, but in the intimacy of your home, all his shyness disappears. There, Sunghoon becomes the most loving and clingy version of himself, holding onto you as if he never wants to let you go.

Sunoo☆!

He manipulates you a lot with his tenderness and affection to get you to wake up early so he can enjoy your presence in the morning, something you're clearly incapable of denying. 

 Your peaceful sleep is interrupted by soft lips scattering little kisses across your face, accompanied by sweet whispers from a voice you'd recognize even from miles away.

You slowly open your eyes, finding your boyfriend hovering over you. As soon as he notices you're awake, his smile widens immediately.

"Good morning, angel," he greets you with his cheerful and energetic tone. You wonder how someone can look so cute and be so lively at six in the morning. But the answer is obvious: because it's Sunoo.

"Angel, I know it’s early, but… if you don’t have breakfast with me, I’ll have a terrible day," he pouts slightly, giving you small nudges to encourage you to get up. "Come on… do it for me, okay?" Hope shines in his voice.

And of course, you end up giving in. You have breakfast with him while he enthusiastically tells you about his day’s schedule, how much he’ll miss you, and, of course, how much he loves you. He won’t let you back in bed until you give him his goodbye kiss at the door.

Jungwon☆!

Many times, you love to pamper him by bringing him breakfast in bed, knowing how much he adores it. He works so hard—what else could you do? Plus, his big smile when he sees the breakfast is the best thing you’ve ever seen.

 You wake up earlier than usual, worried about Jungwon, who has recently been rushing off to work without having breakfast. You know that’s not good for him, and it concerns you that he might feel dizzy or weak throughout the day. So, you carefully prepare his favorite breakfast and place it on a small portable table.

You head towards the bedroom, planning to wake him gently. When you enter, you see him peacefully sleeping in bed. You approach, softly touching his shoulder to wake him up.

When his eyes open, the first thing he sees is you, holding the delicious breakfast and smiling, which makes his heart melt instantly. In that moment, he can’t help but think how lucky he is to have you by his side, to have someone who does all of this for him, no matter what.

He sits up slowly, places the breakfast aside, and with a gentle movement, takes your wrist, pulling you towards him. Surprised, you fall onto his chest, and in that moment, his hand caresses your hair tenderly. Then, he leans towards your ear and whispers softly, but with deep emotion: “What have I done to deserve you, my love?”

Ni-ki☆!

Waking up Ni-ki is one of the most complicated missions, he loves the morning battle that forms when you try to wake him up and he resists over and over again.

 You wake up as you do every morning, knowing that the large body resting beside you will not help you get up early or have a quiet morning.

As soon as you move, he knows what’s coming and, as usual, covers himself with the blanket all the way up to his head, blocking any attempts to wake him with light or old tricks.

"Oh no, don’t start like every morning, Riki. Get up before I pull you out of bed," you say, knowing that the war has just begun. His laughter starts to fill the room, enjoying the morning game that always gets him out of bed, and he’s having way more fun than he should.

"Alright, you asked for it," you exclaim determinedly. You push his blanket-covered body toward the floor, but nothing happens. The blanket shifts with the force of his laughter. You won’t give up that easily, so you go for plan B: you jump on him without warning, making him lose all the air and a surprised groan mixes with more laughter.

"Oh, come on," you say, pretending to be tired of the situation, although deep down you love these moments with him. You grab the ends of the blanket and pull it down to his shoulders, face to face with him while you’re still on top. Riki’s smile is so wide that a wave of butterflies flutters in your stomach. His hands caress the sides of your face, pulling you towards him for a sweet, long kiss—a kiss that you knew would stay with you all day long.

❤❤❤

[scarlett-draws]

Elsje Wodan/Jazker Gailladria

Prompt: "Simply Impossible"

Rating: G

Tags: Pre-Oathbreak, Non-Canon, Pining, Forbidden Romance, Fantasy, D&D setting, Military

Captain Wodan commanded respect. She was thick set, and built like brick wall. It was rare to see her out of her fitted, full plate armor and even rarer to see her out of parade rest. That was a privilege that only her closet squad members could see— even then, she was likely to be dressed in her military formal attire rather than a threadbare shirt and linen pants. The latter was attributed more often to her lieutenant, Jazker Gailladria. Those who have barely heard of him knew him as the second son of a noble house, those who have met him knew him as a skirt chasing lay-about. Those who were friends with him? Well.

Those who were friends with him knew him as all of the above, as well as stupid, hardworking, talented, kind, and above all else— cunning.

Elsje Wodan belonged to the category of 'friend', alongside their two other squadmates Runishta and Polus. At this current moment, however, Elsje was thinking about revoking the friendship status.

"You really don't think we could get like, a herd of horses?" He asked, downturned eyes somehow looking up at her through his lashes despite their over-a-foot height difference.

"Once more I will ask, what for?" Elsje's voice was getting strained with exasperation. This conversation has been going around in circles for almost fifteen minutes and she was getting tired of it.

"Morale." Jazker blinked pleadingly, looking so much like a puppy that she wondered if she could stick him in a pitiful box, leave him in the next town, and someone would adopt him into a new loving home just so that she wouldn't have to deal with his stupid pretty face anymore.

"Right. You want us to tame an entire herd of wild horses... to boost morale."

"Yes."

"Request Denied." She said, voice thick with authority and finality.

He threw up his hands in exaggerated defeat, "Damnit! I was SO close this time!" He seemed to pout for good measure.

Elsje narrowed her eyes at him. He'd been bringing up this ridiculous 'request' every week for the past two months. They then get into a near twenty minute long debate about it before she inevitably turns him down and he finally leaves. The only question is WHY. He isn't dumb, despite his best attempts to appear so. She knows that he knows they can't ACTUALLY get a random herd of horses. So why? Why have this whole debate every week? Was it to shirk his duties? She glances at her reports. He's done everything asked of him, so it couldn't be that. Her gaze bored into the words 'Gailladria' on the report page. Each instance of the name had a 'Task Completed' and then a date next to that. She kept staring at it for another few moments as if it could give her the answers she was looking for. She only looked back to her lieutenant when she heard a small, contented sigh. The kind she was sure he hadn't even intended to make.

When she did look up, however, her eyes met his. He looked... happy. In a gentle way. He had a small smile on his tanned face and his eyes were soft and kind. It wasn't the kind of look she'd ever seen on him, not on any of his numerous dates. It made a tingling sensation go down her spine and a heat rise to her face.

"Jaz?" Her voice came out softer than it should have. She was supposed to be authoritative right now.

"Yeah?" He more sighed than said, eyes not leaving the soft curve of Elsje's face.

Elsje opened her mouth to say something, it died in her throat before she even knew what it was so she closed her mouth. The flush in her face was getting hotter and more irritating the longer he looked at her.

In the end, she could only bark out: "Don't look at me like that."

His smile grew a little wider, and he teased softly, "Simply impossible."

Her shoulder's stiffened and her lips pursed. His eyes danced with mirth as she did so and she just knew he was enjoying watching her squirm.

"You shouldn't look at me like that." She scolded again, but it came out sincere instead of cold.

A mote of sadness- no, yearning danced in his eyes like dust motes in sunlight as he softly answered, "I know."

They both knew.

They both also knew that Elsje was never going to do anything to stop him, because they both knew that she looked at him the exact same way.

Dialogue Responses

"Don't look at me like that."

"I can't help it."

"Simply impossible."

"Just don't look back."

"I'm not looking at you."

"Then stop being so cute."

"How am I looking at you?"

"Why? Does it bother you?"

"Can't take my eyes off of you."

"Sorry, but it will happen again."

"How would you like me to look at you?"

All the Dialogue Responses can be found here.

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[agirlwholovesrockstars]

𝚑𝚎𝚢 𝚕𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚛 | e.m

ᡣ𐭩 pairings : Eddie Munson x Popular!FEM!reader

ᡣ𐭩 wc : Eddie being a dork and a gentleman, I must warn you that this is going to be so fluffy, no use of y/n, establishing a relationship, sprinkle of angst, Robin is besties with reader, Eddie is pretty much unfazed and oblivious about readers hints to him

ᡣ𐭩 navigation : EDDIE MUNSON | AGATHA'S MAIN PAGE

"So, how do I look?" You twirl around to give a full 360 of your entire ensemble

"Girl, come on, you always looked good" Robin huffs as she stood up at the edge of your bed, muttering words under her breath

"I just needed to make sure" you fixed your blouse once more and pull down your denim skirt

You tweak your makeup and hair one last time until Robin had you scraping off your feet at the mirror by the door of your house as you rolled your eyes as she hands your keys to your house as she goes over to your car

You scoff, "Robs, in a few weeks, it will be the happy heart's day week"

"And so?" she says as she opens the passenger seat

You gasp as you clutch dramatically on your chest, "I needed to get ready as much as possible before the biggest event begins"

Robin chuckled as she shakes her head, "Babe, you always looked perfect even when there's no occasion!"

"Thank you!"

"What?"

"That's what I needed to hear because getting ready is not made for the weak"

You sit with your friends at lunch, Robin is over there with Nancy where you should've been sitting but you got a duty to fill in

Outside of school, that's where who you wanted to be and on the inside you're just pretending and it feels absolutely exhausting and you don't feel like yourself anymore

You do not enjoy it

Sooner or later, you're gonna cut off silently of the "group" that you're hanging out with

You feel how plastic and fake everyone are, the fact that you always have to look good all the time to maintain your fucking what.....social status? your reputation at school? I mean, ever since they made you "popular" (even it's against your will they just pulled you into their world) completely changed everything for you

You gonna have to stay consistent and you have to follow what are the trends are, of course, the popular ones should always be on the track

You even became conscious on the things that you aren't even paying attention that includes your body and face

While you're on the thought of dissecting at how bullshit social class at school, Unbeknownst to you, there's one person in the cafeteria who is clearly admires you

It's expensive and the fact that you always have to invest on every little thing that you and Robin know that you don't even needed it

What's the point of anything?

You don't even like what they're talking about always gossiping about every student in Hawkins, the varsity boys are always been so fucking disgusting at how they kiss and tell, you try to put a facade that you're interested

The only real ones there is Chrissy

Robin keeps an eye out for you, "I just know she's on the edge"

"Who?" Nancy asks as she follows Robin's line of sight as she hums

"Yeah, probably, she has to leave them for own good"

"Wait, nance, look" She points out

Robin and Nancy watches the infamous long haired rockstar passing through slowly at the table that you are sitting

"You should try the facial cream that I am using" Rebecca suggest as she inspects your outfit

He can sense your uncomfort as he continues listening

God, you feel like a fucking animal at a zoo

"S-Sure" you stutter as you forced a small smile

"Rebecca, stop, she looks fine!" Chrissy defends you as she rolls her eyes as she puts on a lipgloss

"Well, she's gonna have to keep up with us if she still wants to be included" she shrugs as if her words don't sting you

"What the hell? Rebecca? she can't even can catch a break-" Chrissy reasons with her but someone else interrupted

He doesn't even mean to pry but can't help but eavesdrop on your ridiculous conversation

"I think you look fantastic"

You, Chrissy, and Rebecca and the rest of the group looked turn their heads as their faces grimaced when their eyes fall into the opponent except you and Chrissy but he didn't care about them

He only looks at you, he didn't even falter, he didn't broke the eye contact when you finally do look at him

The way he saids it, it just felt so genuine, you know deep within your heart, it's bad to have someone such as a man to validate your feelings, no, that's not what you're looking for

What you're looking for is someone who is authentic enough not to see you as a girl who always trying to impress others (you don't even have to if we're being honest) but you want someone to view you as a human being

"Thank you" you say shyly as you flash him a smile

"Anytime" he says with a wink that made your cheeks flushed before he walks away getting back to his table

Chrissy grins beside you as she nudges your shoulder, she giggles as you bite your bottom lip to hide your smile

Rebecca watches the whole exchange as she overheard the boys "as if he could pull her" they snicker, she slowly turns around her head at the metalhead with a stern look on her face as she snaps you out of it

"Hey! don't even think about it"

"Boys like him are dangerous"

Granted, that you don't know him well enough, but he has always been so kind even for just small gestures like that, it is just insane that everybody else assumes that he is unpleasant person, you couldn't even stand it, let alone letting this disrespectful comment slide

Before you could even stop yourself, "Oh really? I am much more scared of the boys that we had in our clique"

The boys are scoffing as you flip them off, you know they can't say anything because they're fucking cowards that's what, they're just beefy with you because hell, you can't let them boys have you, they're so untrustworthy, only wanting you to be bedded and headed out to next victim, it's sickening

you're the only one who can talk to Rebecca like that, the one with the sharp tongue not afraid to fight back

Chrissy almost spat her drink as she puts her cup on the table to compose herself

A couple of collective "oohs" threw in your way making Rebecca abruptly stop retouching her makeup as she puts down her compact mirror to squint her eyes at you

She incredulously laughs as she leans forward closer to you, "Don't come running at me crying getting your heartbroken to some guy with no future"

You glare at her, "No, I won't, you'll see"

Robin is right

You're fucking close to ditch them

Rebecca's words echoed into your brain "It's the policy, wanna stick with us? you're gonna fake it till you make it"

You're so uncomfortable and it's so itchy that it actually makes you wanna scream and tear the clothes to shreds

Who the fuck that you let them rule you?

Being a people pleaser is such a draining and makes your sanity crumble

"Lose the jacket"

Out of your ear ringing rage someone in the back spoke up as you close the door on your locker

As you live and breathe

It's him

You look at him bewildered as he opens his mouth again but closes it as he motions for you to take off your tacky jacket that Rebecca advices you to wear every goddamn Thursday because of the outfit policy for the campus, it's so bullshit

You finally registered what he's trying to tell you as you take it off in a swift move

You decided to wrap it in your waist as you can breath easily and your skin isn't irritated anymore

"What do you think?" You look at your outfit but in his eyes, even though it isn't your style and it's also not exactly your style as well but to him?

It fits you and only you can wear something like that

"Better"

You smile at him as he gives you a tight nod, you taken a notice of his attire, he always dresses up real nice (it's actually what you wanted, the freedom to do what you want)

"Oh, are you auditioning for the talent show?"

His brows shoots up in your imply, "Y-Yeah, I am with the-"

"Corroded Coffin, yeah"

You caught his eyes light up, "Y-You know m-my band?!?"

"Hell, yeah, I do! I like your stuff, it's cool"

He can't believe himself right now, "So, you know my name?"

You laugh at his adorable looking face as he watches you with a dumbfounded expression

You cupped your mouth, "Yes, I do know you, Eddie"

"As the weirdest and the freak, huh?" You noticed his cheeks grew pink, it's so cute that you want pinch it

You click your tongue as you aggressively dismissive your hand at him making him chuckle, "I absolutely do not approve of such statement in my department"

You giggle, "I admire you though for being so selfless, I wish I had that"

Eddie never thought you'd care for a nobody like him, but now, after this interaction he felt like a somebody because someone really sees him

You overheard one of your teachers telling all of the participants to get ready, you looked over his shoulder and saw his bandana hanging from his pants

You had an idea

"Do you mind?" You point at the bandana, Eddie furrows his brows at you as he nods and he removes his bandana from his pants

He gave it to you, Eddie watches you intently as you fold his bandana, he doesn't know what you're doing but he has never been so focused on your looks and he has never seen you this close but damn

He is so entranced by you

The moment you're done with the bandana, you quirk your brow at him for a permission as you raise it aiming at his head and he just shrugs making you chuckle slightly

He feels so hot as he felt your fingertips grazing his scalp and it tingles his heart wickedly

You adjust and secure the knot at the back for good measure and you take a step back to look at your final makeover to him making him so nervous yet again and so bashful under your gaze

You nod in satisfactory for yourself, "So metal"

He beams at you and your compliment as you reached for his hand and you pull him startling for a sec as he immediately intertwined his fingers with you and your heart expands at the touch,

Both of you stopped at the nearest corner of the room that has a mirror on it

"Woah" he moves his head sideways and your grin stays intact as you watch him in the reflection

"See, I told you it will be a nice touch"

"You're far more greater stylist than any of your blood sucking friends"

You stare at him with big wide eyes and he thought he offended you until you bursted out loud cackling as he laughs with you

"Never would've thought that I will be saying this but I fucking agree with you"

He felt how frustrated you are with them, he can tell it by the way you cussed out

"Then why stay?"

Your laughter died down as you smile at him sadly, you sigh, "Well, I'm just like anyone who is new at school trying to be accepted from anyone who has opinions of me and yeah, just your typical social climber, I guess"

He takes your words carefully as he begins to smile, "You don't have to be"

"What?"

"You don't have to do this or that just to fit in, I'd say, let it go and let yourself flow and I think you are already amazing and you don't have to prove anybody else and you let yourself shut off just for other person's sake"

Your mouth open up slightly at his words, you know he is wise but you never thought he had words that are so profoundly true, now, you understand why those kids at school love him

He turns his body to you as he face you completely with a serious look, "Are you happy?"

You frown as you took a deep breath, "N-No, I am not"

"That's your answer"

Your lips curled into a grateful smile, "Thanks, Eddie, you don't know how much your words mean to me, I needed that"

"Don't need to thank me, sweetheart"

Oh, okay, the sweetheart rolls so nicely on his tongue

"I'll get going, see you around, Eddie"

"Sure thing"

Before you leave out at the door, you hurried back as you shout out loud, "And best of luck to your performance! I'm gonna cheer for you or else, I'll wring their necks!"

He snorts at that as he shakes his head and smiles as he exits the room

So, you came up at the event and wore the puffy red satin strap dress that has petticoat underneath with a sling bag on your shoulder as you carry the heart balloons on the other hand

You did your makeup and hair like you always wanted to do, you smile to yourself as you look down at your creation

You feel good

It's so liberating

You finally felt contented and most importantly

You feel like yourself

Chrissy's mouth hanging agape as she smiles brightly as she looks at you

"She is such a little bitch" Rebecca slams her party cup on the table as she stomps her way to you

The whole class is there, they all given you compliments here and there and you've never been more so happier

You didn't saw her coming as you felt a harsh push on your shoulder almost stumbled you over

"What the fuck are you wearing?!?"

"Have you never seen a dress, Rebecca?"

"Are you jealous? because she can wear it better than you?"

You bite your bottom lip as you stop the laugh erupting from your mouth as you heard Robin's voice out of nowhere, causing the whole crowd to react

Nancy elbows Robin as she also laughs at her as well

Eddie is headed at the kitchen to pour himself a drink but abruptly stops at the commotion in the living room when he saw you there, wow is all he can think of right now

The cherry lips looks so enticing and inviting on you, he nod to himself, you've listened to his words and you took his advice that he never thought you would do but you just did

Yeah, he's mind is going blank the longer he stares at you

"Who the fuck said that?!?" Rebecca exclaims

"Here's the balloons that you're asking for me to bring" you hand it out to Chrissy as she gingerly took it

You turn your back around her but before she could lay a hand at you

You dodge it as you step aside making her lose her balance as she fall face flat in the floor making everyone in the room, boomed with laughter

"Ouch, that's gotta hurt" you tease with a smirk on your face

She grunts and grumbles, "Shut the fuck up!"

"Hey, I'm not done talking to you!"

"I think we are done-"

"You are not welcome-"

"Guess what, Rebecca, I don't give a shit about your self-proclaimed righteousness clique bullshit"

You lean down as she moved backward as you caught her faltered at her bratty attitude hinting that you are dead serious to your point, you got her right under your claws

You grinned, "You might be not so feisty anymore, huh"

"It's official, y'all, I'm balling out-"

"But I made you!" She tantrums like a toddler

You laugh in disbelief at her behavior

How fucking pathetic this is

"Well, it turns out highschool isn't about based on whether you are popular or not, it's about being a state of mind, I am choosing for myself now"

"Me too!" Chrissy snakes her arm onto yours as you beam at her

"No- you-" she grab a hold to her calf but she yanks it freely

"I am fed up, Rebecca! Don't make me tell everyone how you're so abusive to us, making us what to drink and what to eat, I am sick of it!"

A loud audible gasp fell at everyone's mouths

That's where it fell apart for Rebecca, the shell has been broken and it's clear, the real her squeaked as she ran towards the door out of embarrassment and ashamed

You and Chrissy chuckled at each other as you got a glimpse of Robin and Nancy raising their cups to you as you nod at them

"We're having a party, don't we?!?" You announced

After a beat of silence, everyone cheered and the music started playing

You said to Chrissy you will be out for a minute as she lets you to it

The moment you closed the door behind you at the backyard, the heavy feeling is now gone out of you

You can breathe easily now unlike before

You sat down at one of the pavements at the small stairs towards the pool

The sounds of chains jingling as you turn your head around who is approaching to your silent peace celebration of victory

He appears in his usual style, but except for he's wearing a maroon polo, (you don't see him wearing any like that before) a few buttons open at his chest revealing his silver of skin, ripped black jeans and belt chains

As always his favorite black boots, you felt thrilled to see him again

"Oh hi, Eddie"

"Hey"

He's holding a heart balloon which he offers to tie it around your wrist as you let him

You both hold eye contact at each other as he moves your bangs that it's poking your eye as you blush at his gesture

Does he have any idea of what he's doing to you?!?

You scoot as you offer him a seat next to you as he gladly accepts it with a smile

"I saw what you did back there"

You chuckle, "I'm sorry for stealing your moves"

"My moves?"

"I only did what you always do at the cafeteria"

"Oh that" he laughs "Y-Yeah, I always just speak up and standing for what it's right-"

"Exactly, I've always loved at how you preach"

He sheepishly smiles as you can see how deep his dimples are, you're fighting every bone in your body not to squeeze his cheeks right there and then

"Say, um- c-can you join me?"

You act dumbly, "On what?" but you know damn well what he's implying

Fuck, focus, Eddie

"Me, just me"

"You?"

"Y-Yeah, the two of us"

"Together?"

"A-a date" he blurt out and gauging himself at your processing expression

Your eyes sparkled and Eddie's chest is about to blast off at the proximity that you moved even closer to him

He can breathe the living days out of you and he can't stop smiling at your reaction

"I thought you'd never ask"

"Wait, what-"

You quickly peck at his lips as he swallowed hard and his cheeks turns bright red as you giggle at the transfer of your lipstick to his

He is frozen as a rock but his brain electrocuted to wake him up

He cups your cheeks as he leaps and gives you the most leg wobbling kiss that you ever gotten in your life

You dive deeper as his hands flies to hold your waist tightly as your freehand goes to his neck as you place your hand on his chest

You both breath heavily as you both cackled of your lipstick being smeared at your faces

You take a wet wipe to clean his face as he did yours gently, avoiding not to remove your makeup

"What would Rebecca thought about you and me together?"

"Why should I care? When I already love him the way he truly is"

He looks at you as he reads you carefully, no trace of uncertainty just pure genuine care and love for him

He slowly smiles as kisses your cheek as you sigh in content

You heard "Hey Lover by The Daughters of Eve" started playing at the party

"Eddie, that's our theme song!"

He follows your line of sight as he listens, you begin to sing a long to it, he finally got the meaning of it

"Hey, hey, lover, you don't have to be a star, hey, hey lover, I love you just the way you are"

He chuckles as he watches you, "I love you too, sweetheart"

a/n : let's pretend this is a very late valentine's gift to all of you but nonetheless, I made it! I had this idea for so long but I found the right song to relate the story that I had in mind! :))

please don't forget to like, comment and share! I will be so appreciative if you did all three and thank you so much of your support and take care! 🥺🫶🏻✨

[dailyrothko]

Have you ever seen a Rothko in person? What's it like?

I have seen a lot in person, certainly more than 100. close to 200.

It's hard to say because it varies in a lot of ways as it does for many artists but I think with Rothko the museum lighting is so critical, the variance may be larger than with some. You can't overlight them or they look kind of "Plain".

One of the things you'll notice in his classic work is that the paintings are often quite large. Some as large as ten feet tall (chapel pictures 16 feet) This idea is to envelop the onlooker and put them "In" the painting as in Rothko's instruction to stand 18 inches away. This is not necessary but you might try it with the idea that Rothko wanted you to look at this paintings like he was looking in his studio, he did not generally hang them high and he was nearsighted and stood fairly close to paint. He didn't want anything more than what you felt so you can't be "Wrong" about them but it's also good to give them a chance. It's a Rothko, not a barn door, it may need some time.

But this doesn't answer your question but have pity in me because it's probably not the same experience for any two people.

For me, I am always surprised how good they are, I know that sounds funny from the Rothko blog person, but I am naturally suspicious of my own inclinations, always asking myself if I am seeing something that's not really there or if the work is the same as in reproduction etc.

But the paintings (usually) deliver, many are over lit at museums and that's too bad because it really doesn't help them.

One thing you will notice is there is a lot more going on than you suspect, details cameras don't capture well. Am Ellsworth Kelly or Barnett Newman may really be a flat field of color but Rothko had a busy brush, he painted frantically sometimes within these colors. There are drips, volatile brushstrokes, bleeds and imperfections. A lot of action is required to bubble underneath to make the painting come to a conclusion. I have seen this time and time again. Photography never does it justice.

Another thing is that Rothko paints one color over another and has a number of clever ways to make this work, but what he was looking for was for instance an even but not perfect basecoat, so he's using glue and pigment as a primer coat and then very thinned out paint in layers. like one would with watercolor.

Assistant Roy Edwards says about the chapel pictures "But he didn’t want it exactly even- just enough so it didn’t look sloppy. A little bit of play, but not too much. It had to be just right. A couple that we did he didn't like and discarded. After we painted them he put them against the wall and looked at them for a few days. You know, the way the drying process would take, the way the color finally sunk into the canvas, and so forth. After several large paintings were finally prepared in this manner, he began laying out the actual form on the canvas. This was a large black rectangle running up the height of the canvas, so the maroon color became it’s border. This was done in a very precise manner with masking tape."

So what you see often is one color peeking through another, It may look black on the internet but usually it's black with aubergine showing through in places and so forth.

But this still doesn't answer your question and i have failed. Some people think they are garbage, others cry and have life changing experiences and I think the punchline is very true of Rothko but can be extended to any artwork in any art form. .You bring yourself to art. It is just there, someone's vision, yes, but lines and shapes and colors. Every painting is like this. People fume about modern art "It's just shapes!", but you know, everything is just shapes.

I liked Rothko immediately when i was a kid, he was so different from any other painter I knew of. Since I have devoted the last ten years to looking at his work and thinking about it, being disappointed once in a while, awed sometimes, pleased almost always and heartened that someone who couldn't find himself as an artist for a great deal of his life pushed through his limitations and life challenges and through sheer dedication and single-mindedness ended up producing work of sustaining beauty.

So, how are Rothkos in person? Pretty fucking cool, actually.

I hope you feel the same.

[a2006love]

if you think of giving up: told in a short story.

"park that car, drop that phone, sleep on the floor, dream about me" but it's not about your loved ones in your dr. it's not about shifting. it's not even about an alternate version of life. it's about you. yes, you. the one here and now. the one with the awareness.

it's about the dreams you've left behind, the quiet betrayals, the tiny funerals you didn't even realize you were attending. you tell yourself you don’t need them. you tell yourself you've grown up. that was then, and now it's different. you think about the way you once held them so close, entertaining them all day till you succumb to sleep, and you pretend the memory doesn’t make something inside you coil with longing—but then, just as you're lost in those thoughts, you're pulled back into reality. where you're standing at a fair, and a child comes up to you and tugs at your sleeve.

"do you know where my mom is?"

you turn, and there’s a little kid, red-eyed, breath hitching in their chest. their face is messy with tears, and their tiny hands are trembling. you kneel, instinctively, lowering to their level, and you soften your voice, in an attempt to make them feel safe.

"you're okay, i'll help you, we'll find her, i promise."

but they only cry harder. their words come out in a way that's impossible to untangle. they're just a kid after all, panic swallows them whole and they can't explain what's going on, where they lost her, what exactly happened that made them lose her, and to top it all off they don't even have the words for it, they only know what it feels like, the way fear spreads itself in their chest, the way the world suddenly seems too big and too loud and too much.

and you—you have no idea what to do. you don't know how to fix this. you don't know the kid, at least, not really. the situation seems bigger than either of you, but you do know that you won't leave them here, that you will take their hand and hold it tight, that you will put them on your shoulders and search through every inch of this place until you find their mom.

except—they stop crying. and they lift their head to look at you, really look at you, with something in their expression, something you can't quite understand, like they know something, and that makes your stomach drop before they even open their mouth.

"you left me here."

the words don't make sense. they confuse you and ring in your head like a thousand church bells, and then the sound disappears. everything else is still moving, the ferris wheel is still spinning, the rainbow lights are still flashing, the music is still playing—but you don't hear any of it anymore.

"what?" you whisper, but you already know the answer.

they squeeze your hand tighter, like they're afraid once they repeat themselves you'll let go and leave again. their lips are shaking, and their voice is much more quieter now, but it cuts through you like a sharp and sudden scream.

"you left me here."

and suddenly, you remember. you remember the way you used to dream. the way you swore you'd never let go of the things that made your heart feel so big, the way you promised yourself you wouldn't become this—this version of you that makes these sensible choices, that trades joy for survival and tells themselves it's just what 'growing up' means, and it's just 'the way life is.'

the kid is still looking at you, waiting for you to say something, do something, anything. and in that moment, you realize—it's not just any kid standing in front of you. it's you. the part of you that you've buried, the part that's still waiting for answers, for someone to care enough. that kid is the version of you you left behind, the one you've been avoiding all this time.

go help them. don't look at me or anyone else. go help them. they asked you. not me, not anybody around. they saw you in this suffocating crowd and felt the safest with you, so they approached you, they wouldn't choose anyone else in this world.

either you take them by the hand, or they're going to keep following you around, pulling at your sleeve, each time harder than the last, sobbing so loudly it bangs in your eardrums, waking you up in the middle of the night with questions you're too tired to answer.

and i want you to think of your choice to ignore them as saying "i promise we'll find her" and then leading them into the fair, distracting them by pointing out other kids playing and shouting "hey! this looks fun!", buying them cotton candy, hoping it'll make them forget about the ache in their chest.

and maybe, for a while, it works. maybe they smile, maybe they even laugh, maybe you convince yourself that they've forgotten what they were crying about.

but the knot is still in their throat. the tears haven't dried. the softness of their mother's hands still lingers on their cheeks. and it won't ever leave.

they'll pretend to forget, but you won't. they'll let go of your hand, but you'll still feel the tightness of their grip, years later, in your happiest moments, in every mirror, in dreams where you catch a glimpse of them just before you wake up to face reality.

and you'll always come back to them. so choose, now, to do something about it, and that choice better be to help them find their mom. (home.)