tags: explicit sexual content (18+), vampire jinx, blood drinking, biting kink, cunnilingus, fingering, orgasm control, edging, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, power play, begging, marking (bites), pet names
Jinx’s voice is low, the way she caresses each word sends chills down your spine, as if she licks every syllable before offering it to you, teasing you, torturing you. You count the seconds from the moment she approaches, hidden in the dimness of her studio. She crosses the room like she’s floating, almost gliding over the rug, and you shiver because you know what that half-smile on her lips means.
“Did you come to hear another story, little one?” she asks, never taking her eyes off you, too blue, too fixed.
You dare to nod. You don’t trust your voice, your tongue already feels thick, your legs weak from the memory of the last time. Three nights ago, you thought you might die from pleasure and terror. Tonight, you came back for more. You need more. You don’t know how or when it happened, but seeing Jinx’s fangs, feeling how she has to hold herself back from pouncing on you and sucking you dry, makes your panties soak and drives you desperate in ways you’ve never felt before.
She sits beside you on the divan, her thigh brushing yours, and begins telling you about ancient wars and mad empresses, about tasting a pharaoh’s blood and girls who existed only to feed her. Deep down, you know every story is a trap, Jinx never tells one without weaving in her desire to bite you.
But you listen anyway. You’ve been listening for a while now, letting her ramble for hours about memories from a hundred years ago, a hundred and fifty, more—this vampire never tires of having you close, and you never tire of her voice, knowing sooner or later it will lead you to a mind-blowing orgasm.
“You know what I want,” you say at last, unable to resist the knot tightening in your chest.
Jinx laughs softly and takes your chin in one hand. Her skin is cold, a sharp contrast to yours, sending a shiver from your head straight down to your clit.
“What do you want, darling? Say it nicely. You know I won’t deny you anything.”
You wet your lips, your eyes filling with sweet tears.
“I want you to bite me. I want you to make me cry.”
That’s enough. Jinx lunges, pinning your wrists against the back of the couch, her weight hovering over you, her knee pressing between your thighs. The strength is brutal but never breaking, she just opens you like you’re made of wax. You feel her breath at your neck, but nothing matters when she tears your blouse open in a rush, buttons popping, your breasts bouncing free against the cold air of the room. Jinx pauses to look at them, to touch them like she’s inspecting a prize.
“They’ve grown since last time,” she comments, licking her lips. “Are you sure you’re human?”
You don’t have time to answer. Her mouth closes around your left nipple, sucking with hunger, like she wants to bruise it, her tongue circling while her fangs press just enough to warn you what’s coming.
You don’t want it yet.
“No” you whimper, and Jinx bites down hard, just your nipple, just to make you scream.
That’s when the real game begins. She strips you fast, your panties torn down, your pants shoved aside with her foot, leaving you naked and shaking, your body marked with burning bites, the skin of your tits already starting to ache from the assault.
Jinx takes her time then, studying you, savoring the fear on your face, the tremble of your spread thighs and the shame of your cunt shining with need.
“Look at you, sweetheart. You haven’t stopped getting wet since you got here,” she whispers in your ear, sliding a finger between your folds. “Do you know how much I love your taste?”
A chill runs through you, you don’t know if she means your blood or your slick.
“Want me to eat you, doll?” she teases, pushing her finger deep into your cunt, like she’s measuring how much desperation fits inside.
You nod, and she thrusts in and out roughly, sometimes pulling her finger out just to show you the glossy shine. Jinx is fascinated by your fluids, she says humans, especially you, are sources of liquid sugar.
You have to beg. “Please, Jinx, don’t torture me. Suck me.”
She smiles and drops to her knees, spreading your legs and burying her face in your cunt. Her tongue is cold, vibrating, dragging across your clit in electric movements, like it was made just for this. You arch, your feet curling inward, grabbing her blue hair and pushing her deeper.
Jinx devours you shamelessly. She sucks, bites gently, spits and licks again, like a starving woman eating for the first time in ages, unwilling to leave anything behind. You feel overwhelmed, humiliated, but fiercely alive.
Your moans build into cries, echoing through the mansion walls, the sound embarrassing and thrilling all at once.
“Do you like that, sweetheart?” she asks between licks. “Do you like me eating you in front of all these ghosts?”
You don’t know what she means, but in your mind you see shadows behind the curtains, old portraits watching your nakedness.
The thought makes you shiver, and makes your cunt drip even more. You feel your slick sliding down your thighs, cold and sticky, but Jinx gathers every drop with her mouth and fingers, sometimes pushing two in at once, stretching you wider and wider.
“Almost there, almost there,” she purrs, and you know she can feel your orgasm building, ready to snap.
But she stops you. She always does, like she enjoys dragging you to the edge just to push you off with a single finger. “Don’t you want my bite first?” she mocks, and you cry in frustration.
“Yes, yes, please. Bite me.”
She cups your neck, massaging it with her thumbs, and when you feel her fangs press against your artery, it’s like something tears open inside your soul.
Jinx sinks her teeth in with surgical precision. The pain is sharp and brief, then melts into heat and euphoria. Your blood pounds in your temples and your clit, every nerve in your body turning into a single burning thread. Jinx sucks, and you convulse, the orgasm hitting like a shockwave, your legs kicking the air, your cunt pulsing release after release over your sweet vampire’s fingers.
She doesn’t stop. She works the wound slowly, alternating suction with soft touches to your nipples, now red and hard. Her fingers stay inside you, and every time her tongue moves at your neck, your cunt tightens and spills another wave of pleasure.
You come again, screaming her name this time, a raw, animal sound echoing through the hall.
When Jinx finally stops, she does it with the cruel elegance of someone with centuries of experience. She licks the blood from your collarbones, gathers the slick from your cunt, cleans the sweat from your forehead with her tongue. You collapse, your skin covered in red marks, your body trembling like after a fever.
Jinx sits beside you, wraps an arm around you from behind, and kisses your shoulder, now gentle.
“You’re mine, doll. My favorite,” she murmurs, and all you can do is nod, your mind empty of anything but the need to feel her again.
You don’t think about tomorrow, or the anemia, or whether you’ll ever be able to get turned on by anything other than Jinx’s hunger. Because she already taught you, you’re addicted to her bite, and you know it.
❥・summary; your relationship with jinx is.. complicated. you know it's an unhealthy, relentless cycle, but you're putty in her hands. it's hard not to be, when she's this good in bed.
❥・tags/warnings; fwb, doomed yuri, pitfighter!jinx, dom!jinx, sub!reader, porn w (minimal) plot, mentions of injury, angsty undertones, strap-on use, strap-on referred to as 'dick'/'cock,' rough sex, degradation, spit as lube, tit play, minimal aftercare.
❥・wc; 2.1k
inspired by the goat @fortunxa's "trophy girl." i've been wanting to write pitfighter jinx for a while, but lucky unknowingly gave me the push to finally do it :) spot the heathers reference 😛
minors dni.
you jolt up from your sleep with a gasp upon hearing a knock at the door. less a knock, more continuous banging against the wood.
the digital clock on your nightstand reads 2:12am, your apartment is completely still and dark otherwise. you swipe open your phone to check for any missed texts or calls, and the only notifications are from your manager and coworkers. there’s only one person who could be at your door at this time of night.
eyelids still heavy, brain still booting up, you swing your legs over the side of your bed and raise a fist to rub at your eyes. you drag yourself over to the door and when the lock clicks open, sure enough- there she is.
jinx.
“you look like hell,” you mutter.
the girl chuckles, voice hoarse. she’s got days-old eyeliner smudged on her face, dark lipstick, dried blood caked under her nose. blood seeps through the wraps around her knuckles, which are no doubt split. frayed bandages bind her chest while her jeans have more rips in them than you remember. a few of her nails are broken, and you can see the effort it takes her to give you a wry smile.
at the very least, nothing seems to be broken this time. that’s a rarity.
“yeah? i just got back,” she huffs.
the corners of your lips tug into a little frown as she stumbles into your apartment, butting past you and straight into the living room. there’s a limp to her step, and she’s clearly exhausted.
you shouldn’t be letting her in like this. you’re not some good samaritan who takes on charity cases like it’s nothing.
you have responsibilities. a job. someone to answer to, while jinx only has what’s left of her conscience and her bong.
and yet, you don’t fight her. you just sigh as she makes her way to your bedroom, easygoing as if this were her place too, kicking off her boots. dark bags cling to your undereyes, and it doesn’t seem to escape jinx’s notice.
“did i wake you?”
“yeah.”
she just snorts.
infuriating. if there’s one thing that jinx has, it’s audacity. “sorry.”
you know that she isn’t. the relationship that you and jinx have is difficult to define in mere words- the two of you meeting at a dingy dive bar in the undercity one day before she seemed to go off the deep end. she mentioned that she was a good fighter, but the more you saw each other, the more you started to notice her rapid deterioration.
yellow-and-purple bruises blooming on her ribcage, one of her side teeth being chipped, her wrist constantly being in a splint (that she didn’t wear enough for there to even be a point in having it), and the unsteady gait she sported. she always swore she was alright. she made good money, being the fighter she was- you almost couldn’t believe it.
such a small, scrawny girl who might seem delicate to the untrained eye. you know that she’s anything but.
it wasn’t long before you started fucking. “no strings attached,” as jinx said, but you both knew that there were underlying, unacknowledged feelings for each other. neither of you acted on them, seeing as your lifestyles are so opposite each other and jinx has so much going on, a relationship is the last thing she needs.
maybe you could set her straight. you think that, then the girl updates you on her life, and you’re reminded that she’s too far gone. the only one who can get her out of the hole she’s dug for herself is her.
you sit down on your bed beside her, brushing a hand through your hair and sighing, before the girl scoots closer to you and starts mouthing at your neck. feather-light touches at first, but with little hums against your skin.
you had a feeling this is why she came here.
your suspicions are confirmed when she smiles against your neck as you tilt your head back, succumbing to the feeling, and you catch a glimpse of a bulge underneath her pants.
“hopin’ to get lucky, huh?”
“something like that,” she chuckles, teeth grazing soft skin. your breath hitches. “what, is that a problem?”
you shouldn’t keep letting this girl into your home. especially not late at night like this. you shouldn’t stand idly by as she ruins herself, faces off with death every night and lets the gods gamble.
gods, does she feel good, though. you can’t help succumbing to her.
jinx crawls into your lap, pushing you to lean against the headboard as she moves down your neck, blooming hickeys being left behind. she kisses down your clavicle, then toward your breasts, thin tank barely covering your nipples. the woman tugs your top off wordlessly, and you sigh. pebbled nipples greet her, and she chuckles.
“fuck, you’re perfect,” she breathes out, before diving in- she’s always had a thing for your tits. chapped lips form a seal around your nipple, not wasting any time before she starts swirling her tongue around the firm bud. no doubt leaving her lipstick on your skin.
“agh, god-” you choke out, and jinx giggles against you.
her hand, calloused and firm, grabs your other tit and starts rolling the nipple between her finger and thumb, pinching every now and again. harsh and cruel, just like she likes it. you let out breathy moans, already overwhelmed.
“tell me to stop, and i will.”
“don’t stop,” you respond. “don’t you fucking dare.”
this is another benefit of being in jinx’s corner. she’s damn good in bed.
she nudges your thighs apart and immediately slots her knee between them, rubbing at the barely-clothed heat. clad in a pair of thin cotton panties and tiny sleep shorts, there’s barely any barrier between the two of you. you start to grind your hips down subconsciously, a desperate attempt for friction. jinx has barely touched you, and you’re already a dripping mess.
“you want it bad, huh?”
you can only nod, which draws another giggle from jinx. the vibrations send shivers down your spine, causes your pussy to clench around nothing.
“you’re such a slut,” she says. “that’s okay, though. you know i love it.”
you’re shameless. you can’t help being this way when she’s here.
“please-”
“please what, pretty?” she presses up, harder, her knee right in contact with your clit, and you let out a guttural moan.
“fuck me,” you gasp.
through the dark of your room, you can faintly see a smile stretch wide across her face. she finally lets go of your tits, licking a quick stripe down your torso. all decorum is lost. she’s impatient, desperate to free you of the fabric separating you- you tug at the bandages round her chest, and she lets you unravel them. you palm at her breasts, overwhelmed by pleasure already. it’s almost embarrassing, how quickly she can turn you into a puddle of unabashed need.
she lets out cute little gasps, shaky whines, before finally stripping you of your shorts and panties and discarding them to some unknown corner of your bedroom.
your hands fly out to grab at the waistband of her jeans, but jinx’s bandaged hand slaps them away to tug them off herself. through the pale moonlight shining through the window, you can see the huge, girthy strap she’s prepared- slightly curved to the right, picked especially for you.
you don’t know how you’re going to fit it all. your brows furrow, and your mouth is slightly agape.
“somethin’ wrong, toots?”
you shake your head, thighs unconsciously spreading wider. she thumbs at your clit in lazy little circles, making your thoughts all fuzzy and drawing soft moans from you.
“no, i just- dunno if i can take-”
“shh,” jinx presses her index finger to your lips, giggling. “you’ll take it. i know you can.”
the girl spits in her hand and pumps her cock once, twice, biting her lip like she’s actually gaining pleasure from this, and huffs as she sees your dazed expression. she leans back a little to line up the bulbous silicone tip with your hole, leaking already, then starts to push in- gentle, slow at first, before bottoming out in one brutal thrust.
you cry out like the air’s been punched from your lungs, your walls burning and fighting to adjust to the intrusion.
it’s harsh. it’s addictive. she pulls out halfway, then thrusts back in, setting a quick pace from the beginning. her hands come to push your knees up to your chest and pound into you.
she shouldn’t be exerting herself like this. not when her hips are creaking and her hands aren’t able to hold onto you as tight as they usually can, likely on account of her injuries. you shouldn’t even be letting her do this, but your resolve always crumbles in her presence. jinx is your one weakness, and she knows that perfectly well.
in, then out, she pistons her hips, skin slapping against skin. lewd noises spill from your lips, high moans. raising in volume with every thrust.
“ungh, that feels so fucking good, jinx, you’re-” the tip kisses your cervix, and you let out a squeal. “shit, shit, shit!”
jinx laughs low in her throat. her nails start digging into the plush skin of your thighs, undoubtedly leaving behind crescent marks in their wake. she leans down to bite at your earlobe, then licking the spot right below your ear and suckling at soft skin.
“pussy was fuckin’ made for me,” she breathes, voice low and raspy. “say it. love this pussy, fuck, i could die right here.”
you whine, your voice shaky. “was made for you- agh!”
jinx’s teeth sink into her lower lip as she pistons her hips at alarming speed, rosy eyes faintly glowing- she’s damn near superhuman with the shimmer coursing through her veins. your tits bounce with the friction, your head tilts back, your mind is growing fuzzier by the second.
you can feel her all around you. in your stomach. in your fucking ribs.
she fucks into you like she’s paid to do it, like her body isn’t rapidly deteriorating due to her chosen path. she really should be resting right now. taking time to recover, instead, she’s with her fuck-buddy, showing up like a lost lamb.
obscene squelching comes from your pussy, shrill cries and lewd moans spilling from your lips. cunt leaking around her cock, a white ring of arousal’s started to form around the base. the headboard has started to slam against the wall, the mattress creaking with every harsh thrust- you’ll have to apologize to your neighbors later.
you feel that familiar coil start to wind in your lower belly, bringing you closer to ecstasy. you try to breathe out something akin to “i’m close,” but all that comes out are desperate whimpers.
luckily, jinx seems to understand. “where’s that smart girl gone? huh? stuffed full of dick, suddenly you can’t think?”
you can’t do anything but nod, and jinx barks a laugh, thrusting into you even firmer somehow.
“that’s alright, hon. i gotcha,” she giggles.
jinx spits on her hand once more, even though you’re thoroughly soaked. her dextrous fingers reach between your legs, finding your neglected and pulsing clit and rubbing in cruel circles. a guttural moan rips from you, your fingers twisting in the sheets, and jinx leans down to nip at the junction where your neck and shoulder meet.
“come on. make a goddamn mess,” she encourages.
that’s all you need. with a sharp cry, your spine curls off the mattress and your orgasm slams into you like a freight train. for a minute, all there is is white-hot pleasure, juices coating the toy as you cry out her name like a vice.
“that’s it,” she huffs, hips still rocking into you, although slower. riding you through your orgasm. “you’re so pretty when you fall apart, you know that?”
by the time she comes to a halt, your vision is glazed over. your breathing labored, you look up at her in all of her filthy, wounded glory- unable to do much else but choke out, “goddamn.”
she scoffs in amusement, finally easing out of you. the woman undoes the harness around her hips and tosses it to the same corner your clothes are in, before falling onto the bed beside you. she presses soft kisses to your neck, easing you down, but evidently, the exhaustion of her fight is catching up to her. quickly.
“you should rest,” you murmur, voice scratchy.
“mmmaybe,” she breathes out. “you gonna let me crash here?”
you really shouldn’t. not after jinx woke you up at an ungodly hour just to fuck you stupid.
at the same time, you’d feel terrible sending her back to her dingy apartment at this time.
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 fuck. And it's always the stuck-up pricks that ask for matcha lattes.
“Yes, anything else?” you ask.
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 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.”
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 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. 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, 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.”
Jinx 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.”
She 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.” Jinx 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 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?”
“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. “Yeah, I have. But I've never tried making it myself.”
“Never tried making one yourself?”
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.”
Jinx 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. She then grabs the cup and looks down at the drink. “It looks good.”
“Well, take a sip.”
Jinx smiles before swallowing the liquid. “I didn't know making matcha was so easy,” she muses, setting the cup down.
“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. “You ready?”
Jinx shrugs. “I guess.”
“Just follow my lead and try to keep up,” you tell her, “it should be an easy morning.”
“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.”
“Alright, that's enough,” you cut her off before she can start listing the entire dictionary. “I get it.”
Jinx 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,” she 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.”
“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.”
Jayce glances at the coffee stain on her apron, the corner of his lip twitching upwards, but he doesn't comment on it. He turns towards you. “And how's the training been?”
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. “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.”
Jinx 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. 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?”
You kick off the ground and begin to pedal. “Of course, I do. I just like being careful.”
“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 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? fuck no. You think I'd do something that obvious?”
…
…
“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,” Jinx 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.” Jinx gets off the bike and stretches 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.”
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.”
“Pft, I don't know. Some people might disagree.” Jinx pauses, studying your face. “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. 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?”
“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. “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?” Jinx 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. “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.”
“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. “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. You grimace. The subway system is old, outdated, and in need of repair. You can blame the goverment for that.
You're snapped out of your thoughts when the train suddenly 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.”
“Aw that suuuuuucks,” she sympathizes. “You gonna get it fixed?”
“When I have the time.” You shift your own grip on the pole. “Or the money.”
You keep a decent distance between your body and Jinx. 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,” Jinx suddenly 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?”
Jinx 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.”
“What?”
“What?”
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.
Jinx 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. “And...?”
Jinx 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?”
“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. 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…wait, 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 shit,” she hisses. “Warn me next time you sneak up on me like that.”
“I didn't sneak up on you,” you defend. “I was standing next to you the entire time.”
“And you still managed to startle me.”
“I did it on purpose.” You smirk. “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?”
“Maybe I am.”
You lean against the counter, watching her work on the drink. “Who's this lucky person?”
Jinx 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?”
“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?”
“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're getting better.”
“I'm always getting better.” She turns the drink towards you, holding it out. “You can taste it if you want.”
You reach over and take the cup from her, your hands brushing against hers. 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.
Jinx 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. “…eh...no problem.” She continues to stare at you. 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…”
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. 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. She 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.
“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. 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,” she 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.
“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 pulls 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.
Jinx 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.”
Jinx 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. “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.”
Jinx 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.”
Jinx hesitates. “Uh... probably... yeah.”
“Yeah?” you repeat. “And who would you want to be haunted by?”
“No one,” she quickly respond. “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? 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.”
Her knees bumps against yours. “Does it need to make sense?”
“Yes.”
“Why does it need to make sense?”
“Because— 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?”
“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—” Jinx stops, staring at the floor in an attempt to avoid your gaze. “I want to…to…be with you.”
“You're already with me,” you say. “We're literally stuck in a storage room together.”
She 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. “I'm just saying, 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?”
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.”
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?”
“Spending an eternity with me.”
You lick your lips again. 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.” 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.” Her eyelashes flutter, and her gaze darts to your lips. You feel a heat grow in your chest. 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.
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. 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 don'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.
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.
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?”
“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 family died in an accident 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 shift 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?”
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, 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—”
“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.” Jinx 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. “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. “Why exactly are you here?”
“Jayce told me you were sick.”
“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 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 finals, 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—”
“You need to rest.”
“I can't rest.”
“Why not?”
“Because I'm behind.”
“What is it?”
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.
Jinx glares at you, then tosses 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!” she snaps all of a sudden, standing up and looking you dead in the face.
“Seriously, what's your problem?”
“My problem is that you're here when you shouldn't be—”
“I'm here because I was worried about you. You—”
“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. 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.”
Jinx opens her mouth, hesitating, 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.”
Jinx 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, 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 visited her. Jinx isn't sick anymore and isn't busy with finals, 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.”
“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?”
He grins knowingly. “Oh, it'll definitely work.”
It was a really stupid idea. But Jayce 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. “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.
Jinx 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.
Jinx 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.”
Jinx stares at you, 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 stop, 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 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.”
“Not really,” you reply, keeping your eyes trained away from her. “I don't really—”
You're interrupted suddenly by Jinx, 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 want to punch yourself because no, it's not a shame, it's a sin. You are an idiot.
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. Jinx looks over to your nervous gesture, and her lips twitch. “You should loosen the collar. 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.
Her eyes roams over your neck before lifting to your face. “...I'm sorry.”
The words finally bring your attention back. “What?”
“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?”
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— ”
Jinx 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, but that— ”
“Stop,” she interrupts you. “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. 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.”
Jinx 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.
Jinx 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.” Jinx 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, 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.
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?”
“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 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.
Jinx 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—
Jinx 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.
Ugh, 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! 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. Birds can actually fly.”
“But we're much cooler, right?” 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. “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?”
Jinx pinches your waist, making you twitch slightly. “Well, if we're being honest, it's not the bike I'm happiest about. 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?”
“Mmm. I like you a lot, actually. Like…a lot, lot .” Each word is emphasized with a light kiss to your shoulder.
“Oh yeah?”
“Yup.” Jinx 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.”
“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?”
“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. “You know…” She presses her forehead against your shoulder, and you can hear her drawing in a deep, shaky breath. “When I'm bored…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.”
Jinx 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…” she 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.”
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.” Jinx 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 want to be around you too.”
She sighs in relief. “I'm a bit insane. I'm not.. normal.”
“I don't care if you're not normal. 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 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.
“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 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 going to hug me?”
“Should I?”
“I don't know. Do you want to?”
“I could be convinced.”
Jinx rolls her eyes but smiles anyway. “Yeah? you could be convinced, huh? what would it take for you to agree then?”
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. 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 stare 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.
Jinx 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.
Jinx presses a light kiss to your nose. “See you, partner.” She takes hold of your chin with one hand and presses another kiss to the corner of your mouth.
“See you.” You can't help but smile, a bit dumbly.
She eventually lets go of your chin and takes a step back. You try to memorize every detail of her as she walks backward. “Call me when you get home, 'kay?”
You nod. “Okay”
Jinx 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.”
read on archive | request received | content tags: roommate au, college au, jinx is older than you, financial talks (i know… very depressing), caitvi mentioned, sevika mentioned, comfort, fluffy, flustered roommate!jinxie, reader calls her “jinxie”, gentle smut, oral, top!jinx, bottom!reader
“You gotta take a break soon, y’know? Your head’s gonna explode!”
You looked over at Jinx who was stuffing her face with the freshly baked cookies your friend had sent over just to ensure you had enough sugar in your system to pull in another all-nighter.
Everybody knew how much grades meant to you.
So mostly during exam season, people tried to maintain their respectful distance from you while you allowed the load of studying to consume you entirely.
Jinx sat on the chair, pulling both knees to her chest and rocked, “you gotta get your nose outta that book…”
You looked up, “why?”
“You’ve been at it for hours!” She said, throwing her hands in the air exaggeratedly, “I mean, come on! How hard can it be?”
She picked up one of your books, and opened it, flipping through the pages aimlessly. Then tossed it back to you.
“Hell no.”
You snorted softly.
“How about you go make me another coffee?”
Jinx raised a brow.
“How about no? Your heart is running on a prayer and a thousand dreams.”
You rolled your eyes so hard they almost flew out of orbit.
“Sure.”
“Oh, come on, don’t be dry with me now,” Jinx leaned closer, “I can go get you a very diluted coffee.”
You tried not to smile at that.
“I’d rather die.”
A moment of silence passed.
“Y’know, you could just drop out,” Jinx offered.
“No, that’s not on the table and you know that.”
“Who’s to say you’re gonna, like, make six figures after you graduate anyway?”
“A degree is still worth somethin’.”
You looked back at your notes, quietly focusing your brain there. Jinx didn’t retaliate, didn’t throw an insult at you like she’d initially wanted to do so.
She knew this was important to you and although she couldn’t see the necessity in it, she respected it.
Ever since Jinx had been young, she’d lived on scrapes so she was no stranger to poverty. Once she’d gotten a little older and worked a couple odd jobs, she managed to get herself a stabilised financial footing, and that’s how she was now here—your roommate.
You didn’t know about half the jobs she did.
It didn’t matter.
She was looking for a roommate and you were too, and one thing happened after another and before you knew it—you were sharing a room with an older girl who acted half your age and had hair that could compete with Rapunzel’s (which had quickly become your subject of amusement, much to Jinx’s dismay).
You sighed and leaned your head back, running a hand over your face. At this rate, you were never going to finish up with revision.
And that sucked because you’d actually been looking forward to this test.
You got up, and grabbed your jacket from the coat hanger.
“Hey, I’m going out for a walk,” you said, voice low and tired.
“Mmm’kay!”
You didn’t wait for further conversation and walked towards the door. The weather outside was as gloomy as you felt—dark clouds drifting through the depressed blue sky. You walked with both hands stuffed in your jacket.
You knew Jinx was sort of right—an undergraduate degree wouldn’t really help a lot in this economy especially when people with even a master’s degree struggle to get a job. What even were the odds that you would land a good paying job?
You knew Jinx never made that much—she relied partially on her older sister Vi for money… but you had no family you could turn to. It was just you.
Currently, you were working odd jobs with your roommate—but you made only enough to get sucked dry every time you went grocery shopping. You didn’t remember the last time you treated yourself with something good and you relied fully on your scholarship for college.
Somehow, you were keeping your head above water but you didn’t know what you wanted to do after this. It had taken you a long time to figure out what to do after prep-school and now that you were in college—suddenly the challenges of the real world started to weigh down on you harder than it did when you were a rebellious teenager with a backup plan of getting a sugar daddy.
Hah, sugar daddy.
The thought made you smile to yourself—you were stupid back then to think you could land yourself a sugar daddy without having to sell your body to him for money. You kicked a rock and watched it roll down the pavement.
Life was weird in a way—right when you’d thought nothing would work out and you were going to have to live in a dinky old apartment by yourself, you’d found Jinx.
She was… friendly. Although she laughed at your expense a lot, she was very warm when she welcomed you in and helped you get your first ever roommate experience. Your smile widened a little. You felt embarrassed admitting—but if it weren’t for the people Jinx introduced you to, you’d probably think you had nobody in this world to turn to.
But there were plenty of people now.
There’s Vi. There’s Sevika. And to Jinx’s utter discomfort, there’s Caitlyn.
You knew even if things went down to hell after university, they would all have your back. Atleast, that part of everything felt comforting.
“I’m back home,” you announced, opening the door and kicking your shoes off.
“Wash up for dinner!” Jinx’s voice called.
You looked up, eyebrows knitted together in confusion.
Since when did Jinx become housewife material?
You walked to the kitchen, and saw Jinx carefully throwing away takeout containers, two full plates sitting on the kitchen counter. You stood silently and waited until she put them in the trash.
“You cooked?”
“Yeah.”
“Jinx.”
She smiled sheepishly. “I ordered takeout…”
“With what money?”
“Well, technically—Vi ordered takeout—”
You smiled despite yourself. “You’re not as sneaky as you think you are.”
“Okay, okay, whatever, you wanna eat or wait til the food’s all cold?”
“Let’s eat.”
You both sat in front of the TV, setting the plates down on the table as you both got comfortable on the couch. You watched Jinx picking out a movie.
“I feel bad sometimes… I’ll reimburse you for the—”
“Nah, don’t bother.”
“Jinx—
“Hush. Just eat.” She paused. “You deserve to be taken care of, y’know?”
You stared at her. That’s the first time she’d spoken to you in a voice that soft and genuine, and didn’t joke about it right after.
“Don’t make me get all sappy now,” she said, elbowing you gently, “eat.”
---
Jinx was there for you more than you’d like to admit. More than she’d like to admit either because in a world where everyone only looked out for themselves, she looked out for you and took care of you in more ways than one.
She was messy herself—laundry barely ever done and sketching paper all over the floor of her room but whenever she saw you were too stressed out to bother cleaning your room out, she stepped up and had everything under control.
It was like.. whenever she needed to be the emotional anchor for both of you, she willingly stepped up to be that without you having to ask for it. That meant more to you than any extravagantly rich older roommate could ever.
“How was the test!?” Jinx asked the moment she saw you walk to the parking lot.
“It was good,” you said, smiling brightly, “how come you’re here? Aren’t you supposed to be at work?”
“What work?” Jinx asked with a tilt of her head, “oh, work! Yeah, I work flexible hours.”
“Okay…”
“What? I came because my roomie has finally given the exam that’s been wrecking her in a not-so-pleasurable way.”
You swatted her playfully, “goodness.”
“Get in the car, princess,” she opened the passenger side door for you.
“Oh, aren’t you so chivalrous?”
You got inside and Jinx got in the driver’s side, revving out of the parking spot and driving onto the road.
“So, was the paper hard or worth all that revision?”
“It was okay, actually. I think I’ll do good.”
“See, you stress yourself out for nothin’!”
You looked at her—even in that stupid baseball cap and denim jacket, Jinx looked good. She looked at you, catching you staring.
“What? Fallin’ in love?” She teased.
Your cheeks flushed, “oh, fuck you.”
“You wish you could, baby.”
Damn right. You did wish that.
The rest of the drive was silent. Once you’d both gotten home, you walked inside and taken your jacket off, looking around.
“Oh, you cleaned up while I was gone?”
“Yeah, figured you’d wanna come back and relax, not get your hands dirty.” Jinx closed the door behind you both.
“That’s so sweet of you.”
“Don’t—I ain’t ever cleanin’ again.”
Jinx looked away, clearly a little flustered, not that she’d ever admit to that.
“Aww, don’t be like that, Jinxie.” you kissed her cheek just to watch her blush more, “I just appreciate you.”
Jinx’s face turned hotter and redder.
“As you should! I’m gonna—... Be in my room if you need me…”
You watched her march to her room and close the door with more force than necessary, and smiled. If you weren’t wrong, she definitely was very much into this.
---
It didn’t take long.
You were on her lap, legs on either side of her body as you kissed her. The kiss was something desperate like you both had been waiting for this very moment to pour all your love into this one kiss. You held both sides of Jinx’s face and she had her hands on your waist and lower back as she guided you on top of her.
The couch creaked ominously but you both ignored it.
“You’re so fuckin’ pretty like this.”
You kissed her again. This time it was sloppier.
Filled with more sensual need.
She moved you onto the couch, seating you and reversing positions—she knelt between your legs.
“You wanna do this?”
You nodded, helping her get your panties off. She tossed them to the side carelessly and groaned at the side of your soaked folds staring back at her. She used one hand to part your lips, and just admired it for a few seconds.
“Fuck, I’ve wanted this for so long.”
“I have too…”
You watched with half-lidded eyes as Jinx squeezed your thigh with her free hand, her tongue lapping at your juices first. She kissed your inner thighs when she moved closer, her nose probing against your throbbing clit.
“Oh… Jinx…”
“Moan my name,” she licked a bold stripe over your cunt.
She was obsessed with your taste before she even had it properly. She delved her tongue inside, moaning herself when she got a proper taste of you. Both her hands wrapped around your waist and she tugged you closer, smothering her face with your cunt.
You fisted her hair, grabbing the couch with your other hand.
“Jinx— fuck!”
Your moans got her wet and needier, her pace speeding up as she tongue-fucked you. You tugged at her hair lightly, whimpering and moaning her name.
Your clit twitched with the need to be stimulated. That’s when her tongue circled it.
She could read your body effortlessly, and she cared about you genuinely.
And that made you feel safer than anything else in the world.
#cw. sexsomnia, wet dream implied, service top!Jinx x pillow princess!reader, strap-on usage, groping, Jinx is kinda mean, praise, brief aftercare, weed mention, grumpy!Jinx → affectionate!Jinx, she needs sleep, smut with some plot, modern au. MDNI .ᐟ.ᐟ
#wc. 1.4k
Jinx is so close to falling asleep.
so close.
the fan is humming low in the corner, the nightlight is glowing softly, the dishes are done, her phone is charging on the nightstand, and her pillow is just in the right spot. she even timed her weed perfectly—a warm haze in her body, limbs heavy, mind quiet. for once, her brain isn’t spinning like a busted washing machine. her shirt is soft against her skin, one leg tangled with yours for comfort.
she thinks, yes, this is it. i’m going to sleep.
and for a blissful twenty minutes, she lets herself believe it…
until you—curled up sweet and soft under the blanket beside her—start mewling.
not awake, no. that would’ve been easier.
you’re dreaming, whimpering into your pillow, rolling your hips against the mattress in slow, desperate little movements like you’re chasing something your sleeping brain can’t catch.
“…Jinx…” her name, spoken in a breathy, fucked out voice. it’s barely audible, but it’s enough to make her twitch.
she tries to ignore it, tries to be good. she keeps her eyes shut, jaw tense, and tries to will it away. maybe you’ll settle. maybe it’s just a twitch.
maybe.
but then you whine again—louder this time—and the sound of your wet little whimper has her grinding her teeth.
“jesus fucking—baby,” she groans under her breath, dragging a hand over her face. she opens one eye and there you are: brows furrowed, lips parted, face flushed—from sleep or tension? she can’t tell. you make another sound, clinging to the blanket, your thighs rubbing together in a dreamy attempt at friction. your hips keep giving those tiny, pathetic thrusts, like your pussy’s aching even in your sleep. “un-fucking-believable,” she whispers.
she sits there for a moment, fighting herself, because she knows what this is. it’s not new. it’s not even rare. you get like this sometimes—sleepy, needy, half-dreaming of her with your body, even when your mind is drifting somewhere soft and fuzzy. you mewl her name, whisper please in that sugary voice, and rut against the sheets like they could fill you, hips slow and searching, a bit clumsy.
and every damn time, Jinx cracks like glass.
tonight is supposed to be different. she’s comfortable. she’s tired. she needs sleep. but you gasp once more, and when she looks over her shoulder again, watching your pretty little torment in real time, she sees it: the tiny tears beading at the corners of your lashes like you’re getting overwhelmed.
that does it—her resolve splinters, sharp and final.
she shoves the blankets back with a huff, swings her legs out of bed, and stomps to the drawer like a woman wronged. she digs around and yanks out the baby blue strap like it owes her money, fastening it on with the grim weariness of someone clocking in for a graveyard shift she never agreed to. the harness slaps against her thighs—cool buckle, familiar weight. Jinx doesn’t even bother being quiet about it; if you’re going to torture her in your sleep, you don’t get peace either.
she cinches it tight, adjusting. the silicone cock bounces with every annoyed step as she walks back, muttering under her breath like she’s psyching herself up for war. “you’d think by now i’d sleep in this thing.”
she pauses at the edge of the bed and stares down—at the love of her life, she reminds herself. even now—flushed, sweat-damp tank top clinging to your back, panties all bunched and twisted from your restless squirming—you’re still the softest thing she’s ever wanted to ruin.
Jinx sighs so hard it rattles her chest. “you just had to start something, huh?” her palms run down her face once in exasperation before she climbs back into bed. “hope you’re proud of yourself,” she mumbles, already yanking your hips up and slotting herself between your legs like it’s routine. “i was gonna sleep for at least eight hours tonight. dreamless. peaceful. but nooo, babydoll had to start humping the sheets again.”
she eases her hands under your knees, folding you up gently but firmly, and when she pushes your ruined panties to the side, the wet heat that greets her makes her hiss through her teeth. “you couldn’t wait ‘til morning?” she spits into her palm—more reflex than necessity—and strokes the fake cock once before sliding the tip through your folds. it lines up too easy, catching against your messy entrance. you gasp, but don’t wake. “let’s see if i can fuck some silence into you.”
and with that—thrust. slow and steady, deep enough to knock a breathy little ohh from you as your eyes flutter open halfway, dazed and glassy. “mmh—Jinx—?”
“hi, baby,” she murmurs, low and worn-out. “s’just me. couldn’t let you hump yourself stupid all night.” her arms slide under your thighs, holding you open. her weight settles forward, buried to the hilt, and she pauses there just to let you feel it—the stretch, the fullness, the pressure.
then she starts moving in long, deep strokes, pity-fucking you out of habit and resignation like it’s a prescription. the ribbed silicone drags perfectly through your sensitive walls, and this time, your whimper is sharp, fully conscious, body shifting into her rhythm without hesitation.
“i–i was dreaming…” you try to explain, voice paper thin and useless, almost pouty. “needed you—”
“yeah, no shit,” Jinx grunts, breath hot against your cheek as she drags her hips back and slams in deeper, snapping into you with just enough force to make the bed creak. it sends you rocking into the pillow, body jolting with every thrust.
you moan louder, the sound breaking high. “s–sorry—feels so good—”
“don’t apologize. just take it,” she growls, groping you through the thin fabric of your top, squeezing your tit hard and possessive. “you feel better now? finally full, babydoll?”
you sob and nod, helpless. each thrust punches a wet, fragile sound out of you, like music made just for her.
“you’re unbelievable,” she whispers, her tone somewhere between reverence and complaint, breath catching. “the way you sound? the way you soak the sheets for me? you think i don’t wanna fuck you in your sleep every night?”
“more—!” you practically beg, voice ragged, already trembling.
“yeah, baby,” Jinx coos, mock-sweet. “more. that’s all you ever want.” she picks up the pace, blue strands falling out of her messy braid. “say thank you.”
“th–thank you, Jinx—fuck—thank you!”
“i’m gonna start charging you rent per orgasm,” she grumbles with a light scoff, leaning in to press her mouth against your neck. “fuckin’ insatiable.”
“thank you…” you breathe again—quieter now, softer, sincere in a way that undoes her.
the annoyance slips from Jinx like water off her back.
and damnit, she doesn’t mean to soften.
she kisses the side of your head, still fucking into you, her nose brushing your cheek as she nuzzles closer. “you’re so good for me,” she murmurs, voice suddenly low and hoarse, “you know that? you wear me out, but… fuck, you’re so good.”
her arms wrap tight around you, and she pants softly into your ear. she never loses rhythm—just melts into it, movement and intention fused together seamlessly.
“god, you’re lucky i love you,” she whispers breathlessly, full of heat, trembling with everything she doesn’t say yet. you sob out a broken but grateful sound, clinging to the sheets like they’re the only thing anchoring you. your hips keep moving in soft little rolls and needy tilts, inviting her deeper. “spoiled little thing.”
she keeps it steady—in and out, deep and warm, the strap coated in slick. the room echoes with the obscene and repetitive sound of skin slapping on skin, nearly drowning her out. “you gonna come for me now?” she asks, licking a warm stripe beneath your ear before giving your shoulder a gentle nip. “gonna come so we can both finally sleep?”
“yes! please—wanna come like this—”
she reaches down between your bodies, thumbing your clit in expert motions. “you’re almost there, c’mon,” she breathes, lips at your jaw, peppering it with sweet kisses.
and it hits fast.
you cry out—loud and lovely and so fucking grateful—whole body shuddering with release. it’s the kind of orgasm that leaves you boneless and breathless, melting against her with a wrecked little sigh. she stays buried inside, grinding slow and gentle through the aftershocks as you pulse around her, her own heart racing.
and then—finally—silence. the kind Jinx had been chasing all night.
she pulls out carefully, earning one last whine from you, before unbuckling the strap and tossing it to the floor without ceremony, silicone cock coated in your cream. she’ll worry about hygiene tomorrow; for now, she flops down beside you with a tired groan, dragging you into her chest.
“you better sleep like a baby after this,” she mutters, already halfway gone, pressing her lips to your temple.
you hum and smile dreamily, mumbling out a satisfied “g’night” as your eyes flutter shut, letting her warmth wrap around you like a weighted blanket.
Summary: Singer!Jinx has been obsessed with you since the two of you hooked up after one of her shows.
WC: 2982
Warnings: Smut! !MDNI! Explicit sexual content, oral sex (Jinx receiving), smoking / cigarettes, strong language, semi-public sex (backstage) idk what else
Inspired by the song: Bathroom Bitch by HOLYCHILD
A/N: Guys...I haven't written in smut in a long time and I kinda hate how this turned out. It feels really rushed and I apologize for that. I will definitely continue to try and get better. Anyways, I still hope you enjoy it!
The venue is packed. The atmosphere consists of cheap liquor, cigarette smoke, loud cheers, and sweat-slick bodies. Hot and sticky bodies are pressed against one another like sardines stacked in a tin can. You hold onto the bar of the metal barricade that separates the stage from the crowd. A cigarette hangs loose from your lips as you pull short drags from it, exhaling the smoke from your nose. You pull the dying butt from your mouth and drop it to the concrete beneath you, snuffing it out with the sole of your boot. The band is way past its designated start time—nothing new to this scene. It was more than common for shows to start at least an hour after the time promoted on the flyers.
You were really only here for Jinx. She had begged you to come and you couldn’t help but fold at the sight of her blue eyes, all wide and bright, peering up at you. You’ve been to her shows before. That last one you went to was a few weeks ago, some house party that lasted until dawn and ended with the two of you pressed up against a bathroom sink, and with you knuckle deep in her cunt while she clawed at your shoulders. You still have the marks to prove it—lasting evidence of Jinx’s desperation.
You’re growing impatient and the scent of alcohol continues to linger in the air. You frown, growing discontent with the odor. The lights are set at a brighter setting as the crowd moves to the random music blaring from the speakers. The bass reverberates and ricochets off of the walls. It was all becoming too much—you just want to see Jinx sing and then beeline backstage to her.
Suddenly the lights dim, the random techno beat from the speakers is replaced by the cheery voice belonging to the bubbly woman you’ve begun to admire. She skips onto the stage, microphone in hand and guitar slung over her shoulder. The rest of the band files onto stage and places themselves into their rehearsed spots. You recognize a few of the members—Jinx’s sister, Vi, is the only name that has actually stuck. The rest of the members just blur into the background, forming a frame around the true masterpiece that Jinx is.
She’s grinning ear to ear, pulling her bottom lip between her teeth as she scans the crowd. Excitement flows through her veins, an electrical current that leaves every one of her nerves on fire. Her eyes are everywhere, looking at almost every individual in the crowd before her blue-eyed gaze falls onto you. You swear you can hear the shift in the rhythm of her breath as the mic picks up the sound. You send her a wink, a wicked grin plastered on your lips. You love seeing her up there. Witnessing her in her element, watching her thrive as the center of attention. The lights come back on, but in a different design. Purple, blue, and pink hued bulbs shine down onto Jinx, illuminating the tattoos etched into her skin and the pink shimmer painted onto her eyelids.
“Hello!” She calls out into the mic, beaming as the crowd erupts into a cheer. You add to the commotion by jumping up and showing your excitement.
“We—” she begins to fiddle with the strings of her guitar, assuring the correct tuning before strumming a chord in preparation for the set. “We have a few pretty fucking awesome songs.” The crowd screams in unison. She adjusts the guitar strap on her shoulder. You ogle at her, seeing the way the colored light settles into the contours of her body. Oh how you wish you could trace its pattern with your tongue.
Jinx glances at you, cheeks flushing as she steps closer to the mic, which now sits comfortably in a stand. Her voice drops in volume, “I’m gonna let you little freaks in on a secret…” She’s practically buzzing with excitement, fingers tapping on the fret board as she attempts to ground herself. “There’s a little song that I’m gonna sing and it’s a doozy…you’ll just have to wait and see!” She throws you one last look, including a wink in the motion before skipping back from the mic. The lights shift and a bass riff begins to leak from the amp and pours into the structure of the venue, letting you feel the music in your feet and up to your crown. The set begins and you let loose.
-
You’ve lost count—not entirely sure what songs they still have left to play in their set but it doesn't matter, you’re focused on living in the moment. Focused on living in the radiating light that swarms Jinx’s stage presence. You bounce around and follow the movement of the crowd, falling into the chaos that ensues from the energy that Jinx gives to the room. The song dies out, a muffled chord playing itself through with no intervention. Jinx runs a hand through her bangs, slick sweat molding her hair into a messy style. She is so into it—you can tell by the way her chest heaves and her eyes glass over with a stain that can only be labeled as pure adrenaline. She bumps the mic with her nose accidentally, giggling at the contact. The muffled noise sends shivers down your spine, a chill crawling up your arms despite the stuffy climate of the space. She grabs a hold on the stand, using it to balance herself.
She catches her breath and pulls her guitar from her body, setting it in a stand near her, before muttering into the mic, “This last one is called Bathroom Bitch and uh—” She tilts her head, contemplating how far she should elaborate on the title before straightening back up and smirking devilishly. “Just fucking listen!”
The music comes alive once again and the crowd follows suit. You get pulled into the middle, the eye of the storm. Your body gets pushed around in the pit. You focus on the pressure of hands on your arms as you get shoved around. You’re so distracted with not falling that the lyrics barely register in your mind.
“I wanna fuck you in the bathroom—” She begins, the notes leaving a fuzzy feeling in your stomach. You manage to worm your way through the crowd and back to your original spot near the barricade. Jinx continues to jump around, each bounce emphasizing the words of the chorus. You feel your chest tighten—images of your shared risky rendezvous at the party from before. You’re star struck. This is about you. These lyrics, this song, it’s all for you.
Jinx moves with the music, falling carelessly to her knees, shuffling to the edge of the stage where she’s just barely in reach from you. You manage to push through the moving crowd, making it to the edge of the barricade. She holds the mic to her lips as she braces herself with one hand, leaning over the ledge to get closer to you. Desire flows through your body, the substance settling in your lower stomach, teetering on the precipice where it threatens to travel further south. Jinx can see it, the way your eyes have glazed over in an all too familiar way. She sings her lyrics—sharing the words meant for your ears.
You’re enamoured by her, your lip catches between your teeth as you watch her fall back onto the balls of her feet before bouncing back up and moving away from you.
The lyrics aid in the images already flashing through your mind.
”In the bathroom, in the library, I feel your love inside of me–”
Jinx bounces around, stepping with the beat of the music that blares from the amps and monitors around her.
“–at the movies or your mom’s apartment,” she looks at you, grinning wickedly, “only when you say you want it.”
The crowd continues to move, their parading faltering as the song comes to an end. Your knuckles are practically white with how harshly you’re gripping the metal bar in front of you. Jinx is just beaming, still riding the high of the performance. The set comes to an end and you’re ready to pounce.
Jinx waves to the crowd, retreating to the backstage area. You’re quick to follow–weaving through the thinning crowd and towards the door that’s labeled ‘authorized personnel only’. Yeah, fuck that. You push the door open, catching a glimpse of your bluenette step through a door down the hall. You move swiftly, giving a small nod to the red head that dips into a room across the hall.
You open the door and walk in, shutting it behind you, locking it securely. You look at Jinx, who’s lounging on the small couch in the far side of the room. The warm lights screwed into the perimeter of the large mirror across from her illuminate the beads of sweat racing down her temple, catching flecks of glitter as it travels further down to her cheek and to her jawline. Her chest is heaving, rising and falling as she attempts to ground herself.
“Hey, toots.” Her eyes glimmer in the light, a knowing sign of just how far gone she truly is after her show.
You push off the door, striding toward her confidently, “Well, hello to you too–” you stand in front of her, nudging her foot with your boot, directing her to part her legs. “–Bathroom Bitch.”
A small giggle falls from her lips as she leans forward, placing her hands onto your hips. She rests her chin on your navel, round eyes peering up at you as her lip catches between her teeth. “You like it?” She mutters as her fingertips, raw from the friction of guitar strings, slip under the hem of your shirt. She pushes the fabric up just enough so you can feel her breath on your skin. Your hand moves to her head, fingers treading through the sweaty strands.
She presses a wet kiss to your stomach, pulling back to wipe the lipstick smear from your skin before leaning back in to drag her tongue along your skin. You let out a soft hum as she nips at the flesh, “You’re insane, Jinx–”
“Yeah–” She mutters, fingers moving to work the button of your jeans, “–but you still came to the show.” You help her pull your jeans down your legs, haphazardly kicking your boots off in the process. She sits up, gaze set on your panties, “My little groupie.” she mumbles.
You scoff, hands moving back to her hair. You tug at the hair near the nape of her neck, pulling her head back. “Real funny, Jinx,” you move down to your knees, sitting at eye level with her as you lean in close, pushing her closer with your grip on her, “you’re the one who wrote a song about how good I fucked you, sweetheart.” You coo in an almost patronizing tone. You watch as her pupils darken, breath catching in her throat.
Jinx grins. “What? It got a great reaction.”
“You named it Bathroom Bitch.”
“And somehow that’s the part you’re hung up on?”
“Jinx.”
“Okay, okay. Maybe I got a little carried away.”
“A little?”
She laughs. “Fine. A lot.”
You release your hold, both hands falling to settle on her waist. She reaches out, wrapping her arms around your shoulders. She pulls you close as you lean in, lips meeting a rushed kiss. You squeeze her sides, sighing into her mouth as she pushes her tongue past your lips. Your lips work in a tandem, clumsily dancing as you make an effort to rid her of her concert attire. She breaks the kiss, catching her breath for only a moment before aiding you in pulling off the layers of clothes on her upper body. Your eyes trail down, following the path of her tattoos, all the way to her bare breasts. You grab the beltloops of her pants, pulling her towards you. She lets out a yelp that turns into a bubbly laugh as you sit back onto your heels, bringing her off of the couch and onto your lap. Her back presses to the edge of the couch as you begin to place open-mouthed kisses to the edge of her jaw and down the expanse of her neck, nipping at the skin as you go. A wispy moan falls from her lips as her head lolls back, giving you more room to attack her with kisses. Her fingers dig into your shoulders as she steadies herself, hips grinding down onto your lap.
You continue to pepper kisses down her throat, moving further down until you reach her tits, lips wrapping around one of her nipples as your fingers work to pinch the other neglected bud. Jinx whines at the contact, back arching, pushing herself further into you.
“Oh, fuck yeah, toots,” she laughs breathlessly, hips moving against your thigh in a rhythm that keeps pressure on her clit through her pants.
You release her nipple, a wet pop sounding out the action as you look up at her. You replace your mouth with your free hand, both now working at kneading the plush flesh. “You’re insatiable.” You mutter, listening for the change in her breathing as you tense the muscles of your thigh. Your hands glide down from her chest, finding their place on her hips, you halt her movements. She lets out a high whine, finally meeting your gaze.
You give her a quick peck, shushing her. You pat her hips, signalling for her to get up. “Take your pants off, baby.” Her arms rest on your shoulders, fingers fidgeting with the hair at the base of your neck. “Come on. Be a good girl.”
Her cheeks flush as she stands up. You stay seated below her, hands running along her thighs as she moves. Her nimble fingers work at the fastening of her pants before sliding the fabric down and off of her legs. You reach up, fingers hooking onto the waistband of her panties. Your eyes meet hers–oh boy is she gone, absolutely sent into orbit from the way you begin to slowly tug them down.
“Gonna ride my face, baby?” Her hands move to your head, using it to hold herself up. A strangled noise pushes past her teeth as the cool air of the room makes contact with her already slick cunt. Your grin widens as you watch her eyes squeeze shut from the exposure.
You help her step out of her panties, grabbing her hand as you move to lay flat, pulling her body down with you. You get comfortable, shifting your hips to press your spine flat against the rug beneath you. Jinx sits, straddling your ribcage. She gasps as her bare cunt presses onto your clothed chest, hips bucking in an attempt to gain the sweet friction she craves.
You grab her hips, “Nice try–” You laugh bitterly, bringing her hips up as you scoot down to where she’s hovering above you. You look up at her through hazy lids, “You know what to do”
She begins to lower herself, tossing her head back as you lean up to leave a kiss to her aching clit. She lets out an impatient groan as you stop her movements, growing frustrated with your antics.
“Oh, and do me a favor,” You rub soothing circles into her hips, trying to stop yourself from laughing at her desperation, “remind me what you were singing about earlier.” You blink up at her, fully aware of what she was spewing about on that stage just moments before she ended up a needy mess above you.
Her brows furrow, another pathetic whine falling from her lips as she tries to push herself down onto your face. Your grip on her tightens, fingertips pressing firmly into her hips.
“Come on, Jinx,” Your eyes narrow on her, hands moving to pinch her nipples between your fingers, “Sing it again for me.”
She looks down at you, utterly starstruck. Her voice is hoarse, rough from being stuck in her throat from the lack of friction she craves. “God, I feel so powerful when grinding on your face.”
You grin wildly, “atta girl.” You bring her hips down, tongue instantly pressing flat to part her folds. You let out a soft hum as her fingers thread through your hair, tugging at the roots.
A gasp leaves her lips as she tosses her head back, “Fuck, yes!”
You grasp at her thighs, helping her grind her hips down onto your face. You lap at the slick dripping from her hole, licking it up to suckle at her clit. She moans, your name falling from her lips like a prayer as her hips jerk against you.
Her grip on you tightens as you put more effort into your movements. You know she’s close–you have her teetering on the edge, ready to fall. Her thighs tremble as you lick at her cunt, tongue moving in tandem with the bucking of her hips.
“Oh–” She gasps, “Fuck! I’m so close.” Sweat begins to form at the base of her neck, trickling down her spine. You hold her trembling thighs, helping her stabilize as you give one last flick to her clit. She moans loudly as her orgasm crashes through her. You guide her through it, slowing your movements to a halt. Her chest heaves as she tries to catch her breath. You keep your hands on her hips as she moves off of you, moving to lay next to you on the floor.
You laugh softly, “You okay?”
She grins, “Never better.” She looks at you, eyes glazed over with a post-orgasmic haze.
You reach over to brush her hair from her sweaty forehead, “Guess you should write a song called ‘Floor Fucker’ next?”
# pairing. pitfighter!Jinx x fem!reader, canon divergence.
# content warnings. needy dom!Jinx x sub!reader ; toxic yuri ; on & off relationship ; codependency ; mean!Jinx ; bpd potrayal ; devotion & obsession ; possessive!Jinx ; cunnilingus (r! receiving) ; fingering (r! receiving) ; overstimulation ; marking ; angst with a side of smut ; slight dubcon ; mdni .ᐟ.ᐟ
# word count. 3.5k
ᯓ ☘︎ lucky speaks: take a shot every time they say “fucking” :p anyway, i’m quite proud of this one as a pitfighter!Jinx debut <3
the hideout smells wrong.
it's sweet first—heavy perfume bleeding into the air, thick and cloying—and then, underneath it, metal and gunpowder. a sharp, copper tang of blood trying to pretend it's something else. it clings to the back of your throat the second you step inside.
you find Jinx at her workbench like you always do after a fight, hunched over a chipped enamel bowl, water turning pink. her makeup is spread around her in a careful disarray—new pots of kohl cracked open, brushes with stained bristles, half-empty bottles of perfume she doesn't reach for nowadays. you even spot the scissors—the same pair she used to hack off her braids in a moment of fury because they were something her opponents could grab and control.
no more handles.
nothing for you to hold either.
she doesn't look up when she hears your approaching footsteps; she just keeps scrubbing at her face with both hands like she's trying to peel it off, water sluicing down her arms, dripping from her elbows and onto the floor. the heavy black makeup that usually rings her eyes has melted into streaks that slash down her cheeks, dragged lower and wider with every pass of her palms like war paint gone wrong.
press, drag, rinse, press harder.
over and over.
"you fought tonight." your voice comes out flat and cold, each word carefully controlled; you clamp down everything else because if you let any emotion show, it'll split you open.
she hums in reply, casual and thoughtless like you've commented on the weather before dunking her whole face in the bowl. you hear the sound of the water breaking, sloshing as it licks at the rim, her breath forcing bubbles to the surface. when she comes up, it’s with a faint gasp, her hair plastered to her temples in dark clumps; she's dripping, water runing down her neck and soaking into the bandages wrapped around her chest, the painted black X over it starting to bleed at the edges. her bare shoulders flex as she rolls them out with a faint crack, earning a relieved grunt.
"i won, too," she adds after a moment, like that fixes anything.
"i don't care."
"you should." she finally glances at you over her shoulder, and your breath catches despite yourself; even with exhaustion carved into every line of her face, Jinx is devastatingly beautiful. the shimmer swimming in heir veins, burning through her system, gives her this restless, coiled energy, like she's constantly vibrating just beneath her pale skin ever since Singed put her back together wrong. "put on a good show. crowd loved it." her hands are unwrapped, settling on either side of the bowl now, knuckles split and swelling purple over the delicate bones.
"i told you i'd leave if you fought again," you say quietly, the words sounding worn thin from repetition. you can’t tell if you’re warning her anymore or trying to convince yourself you still mean them.
"yeah." she lets out a small laugh, the sound utterly patronizing nevertheless, keeping her head bowed for a second longer before picking up the worn rag beside her and wiping at her face lazily. you watch as the black keeps smearing, refusing to come clean. "you did say that."
"i meant it."
"sure you did."
the casual dismissal hits like a slap, and your hands curl into fists, heat flaring up your spine. you want to grab her, shake her until the arrogance cracks, make her understand. instead you stand there, trembling with barely contained rage. "you said you'd quit."
"i said i'd try."
"i'm serious, Jinx!"
"yeah? that why you're here?" she gestures vaguely at your presence, voice taking on that awful, condescending coo. "at my place in the middle of the night? 'cause you're leaving?"
"i came to tell you—"
"bullshit." she pushes off the workbench, and the bowl wobbles unsteadily. "you came because you always come. because you say you're gonna leave and then you don't. it's what you do." she straightens, chin tilting up. "you wanna leave? leave. door's right there. nothing's stopping you."
"Jinx—"
"no, seriously." she spins once, arms spreading wide with theatrical flourish. the movement makes her bandages shift against her ribs, showing the edges of bruises underneath—purple, yellow, green. "go. save yourself from the big bad pitfighter. run back to your safe little life and forget you ever slummed it with Zaun trash like me." her smile widens, sharp and knowing as the word trash hangs between you like something she's daring you to swallow. "but you won't, because you're too sweet for your own good. too caring. too worried what'll happen to poor, broken Jinx if you're not here to save her."
"don't fucking do that to me!" you snap, the control finally cracking as months of fears and frustrations come spilling out of you. "don't do that."
"do what, baby? tell the truth?" the endearment is mocking, dripping with false innocence. "you need this. you need to be needed. and i'm so very, very needy."
"you're such a fucking asshole," you spit out, face twisting in disbelief at her words like you don’t know what to do with the thing she’s becoming. this girl standing in front of you, smirking with poison in her voice, barely resembles the one you fell in love with.
"mmm, yeah." her eyes glitter with mean amusement, bottom lip caught between her teeth to contain her smile. "but you love me anyway. that's the problem, isn't it? you can't help yourself. can't walk away from a lost cause."
"stop acting like this!"
"i'm not acting like anything." she tosses the rag back into the bowl, letting it land in the pink water with a wet slap. "you just say a lot of things, but you're still there."
"not for long."
"when?"
“what?”
"when are you leaving then?" her voice is deliberately flat as she leans back against the workbench once more, arms braced behind her like she's settling for a show. "tonight? tomorrow? just wanna know how long i've got."
"that's it?" you huff, stepping closer, anger finally overriding the ache in your chest. "that's all you have to say? i'm telling you i'm done, and you're just… you don't even care—!"
"sure i care." she pushes off the bench, stepping onto the propeller blade you stand on, claiming space you thought was yours. "but you're gonna walk out that door, go back to your little apartment, and lie awake all night wondering if i'm okay. if i'm bleeding out in some alley. if someone finally hit me hard enough that i didn't get back up." she stops, facing you with a smile that doesn't reach her eyes. "and then tomorrow night—or maybe the night after, if you're feeling particularly strong—you'll come back. you always come back. because the guilt would eat you alive, wouldn't it? knowing you left me. knowing you could've stayed unlike the rest of them and maybe, just maybe, kept me from destroying myself completely."
every word lands like a punch, because it’s true. because Jinx knows exactly where to press, exactly how to hurt, and she does it anyway. your breath comes faster, vision blurring at the edges.
"fuck you," you breathe out, voice unsteady with rage. "fuck you for using that against me."
"oh, poor baby." she takes another step, tone sliding back into something honeyed and vicious. "so noble. so self-sacrificing. staying with the broken girl because someone has to, right? because if you don't, who—"
"stop it!" your shout echoes in the open space, bouncing off metal and stone, coming back distorted and strange. your whole body is shaking with fury and hurt, tears streaming down your face freely now as you face her cruelty. "you want me to leave? fine. i'll fucking leave right now. and when you're lying in that pit with your skull cracked open and your blood soaking into the dirt, you can die knowing you pushed away the only person who still gave a shit about you." the words tear out of you raw as you turn on your heel and storm toward the exit.
behind you, Jinx's laugh cuts off abruptly. "wait—"
"no!" you don't slow down, boots clanging hard against the old propeller blade, metal ringing under your weight. "i'm done. you win. you're right about everything. i'm just some pathetic case who needs broken people to feel good about herself. congratulations on figuring it out."
"wait, no! i'm sorry. i'm sorry, i'm—fuck, i'm sorry!” the words tumble out of her unfiltered, taking on that frantic edge you've learned to recognize. "please don't go. please. you know i don't mean it. you know i never do."
still, you keep moving, because you've done this before. you know this by heart now—the cruelty, the apology, the way she pushes until something tears and then panics at the sight of blood. something crashes behind you—the bowl, judging by the noise, water slapping across the floor in a violent splash. you hear her swear under her breath, then the quick shuffle of her boots as she nearly slips.
"please!" she begs again, no hint of mockery in her tone now, just the sound of someone ripping themselves open trying to get the word out.
this time, you pause. not because you forgive her—not even close—but because you can't pretend you didn't hear that when the word lodges itself under your ribs. you turn slowly, taking in her wrecked face. the bravado is gone, the smirk is gone; all that's left is the wild look in her bright pink eyes blown wide with panic. her chest is heaving. you can see every breath, rapid and shallow like she can't pull enough air into her lungs. fine tremors move through her whole body as the adrenaline starts draining away, leaving her standing there raw and painfully young.
you stare at her, months of pain in your own expression as you shake your head in disbelief. "this isn't all you are, Jinx."
"yeah?" her mouth twists as she sniffles once, angrily wiping at her face with the heel of her palm. "so what am i?"
you open your mouth, closing it just as fast. because what can you even say anymore? that Jinx is brilliant and creative and funny in the strangest ways? that she sees beauty in things everyone else overlooks? that you love her?
all of it is true, but none of it is enough to keep her out of the pit.
"i can't watch you die," you say finally, stepping away from her. "i can't stand there and watch you kill yourself one fight at a time. i can't."
"then don't watch."
"Jinx—"
"i'm serious." her jaw sets in that stubborn line you know too well. "you don't have to watch. i'll keep fighting, you'll keep worrying, we'll keep doing this dance until—"
"until what? until they carry you out of that pit in pieces?"
"maybe!" her hands fly up, manic energy crackling through her again. she starts pacing, steps quick and uneven. "maybe that's how it ends! maybe i don't get a happy ending. i'm fine with that, why can't you—"
"Jinx, stop!" you reach for her, forcing her to stop moving. she stumbles, freezing under your hand, skin hot and pulse racing where your thumb presses into the inside of her wrist. "just stop. please."
she looks at you, and for a moment—one fleeting moment—you see past the bravado and the mania to the Powder underneath, scared and small and bracing for impact. "i don't want to lose you, too," she whispers. "i know i need you."
"you need help."
"i need you." the insistence is immediate and desperate enough to make your stomach twist.
"that's not fair," you whisper, shaking your head. "you can't put that on me."
"i know, baby. i know it's not fair. you really should go," she admits easily. "you should, but if you try, i swear i'll still crawl after you."
Jinx then staggers forward, swaying slightly before ultimately dropping to her knees on the dirty floor and crawling the short distance between you, forehead pressing against your stomach like a starving dog finally let in from the cold to a warm meal.
"i'll win for you. i'll be smarter. i'll build you a fucking house out of scrap and sleep on the floor if that's what it takes." she's panting, breath hot and erratic, shaky hands already fumbling under your top and clutching at your waist.
"i'll do anything." she looks up, pupils blown wide. her eyes shine wet under the dim light, and it's impossible to tell whether she's genuinely on the verge of tears or just desperate enough to weaponize them. maybe there's no difference anymore. "anything you say," she whispers. "you want me begging, baby? i'll beg. i'll cry. just don't go. i need you. i need you."
your hands hover uselessly above her head. you don't know what this is—manipulation, panic, love, fear. Jinx has always used every weapon in her arsenal when she's cornered: cruelty, guilt, charm, violence. but this—this trembling, frantic thing at your feet—feels too raw to entirely fake.
"you said you'd quit," you whisper again, voice trembling, but your fingers are already sinking into the short blue strands at the back of her head. the chopped-off remnants of what used to reach her ankles curl around your knuckles easily now. "last month, you promised me—"
"i know."
"and the month before that—"
"i know."
"so why should i believe you this time?"
for a second, she just kneels there, breathing against your stomach. "you shouldn't," she says, and the honesty hurts more than any other promise would have. "i've lied before. i'll probably lie again. but right now? the truth is i don't wanna lose you. even when i’m mean.” she swallows, forehead pressing more firmly against you like she’s bracing herself. “maybe… maybe especially then.”
it's pathetic how quickly you give in at that, how fast it escalates as the anger drains out of your body. one second you're standing there, trying to leave her; the next, she’s dragging you down onto the mattress in one graceless motion, pulling your shirt over your head and licking her lips when soft tits spill out, nipples already pebbled from the permanent cold in her hideout.
"missed this," she mutters, burying her face in your chest with a needy whine as if she's trying to crawl inside your skin and make a home out of your ribs. she presses closer with every breath, like if she could split you open and tuck herself somewhere beneath your sternum, behind your heartbeat, she might actually stop shaking.
she shouldn't be touching you like this; not when her jaw clicks every time she swallows from where that other fighter clipped her clean in round two, but she's too far gone to care. "missed you. you're so fucking warm, baby." her hands roam without direction—waist, back, waist again—like she's checking whether you're real or just another cruel joke supplied by her mind. she finally tilts her head up, looking at you through damp lashes. "can i taste you?" she asks softly. "please?"
you nod, because how can you not? the second Jinx gets like this—wild and greedy and strung out on need—it flips something inside you. it makes you forget every mean word, every cruel statement thrown at you. you're on your back in no time, pants yanked off with your legs draped over her freckled shoulders, pussy soaked and fluttering around nothing as she mouths at you like she's dying of thirst. she keeps an arm wrapped around your thigh, holding you down while the other slips under your ass, tilting you up into her mouth. Jinx eats like a girl who hasn't touched softness in weeks, hips canting uselessly into the mattress like she gets off on your taste alone. like forgiveness is something she finds deep inside your cunt and your cunt only.
she moans shamelessly at every twitch of your thighs, tongue flattening against your puffy folds before she drags it slow in up and down licks. "please," she begs between desperate strokes, fingers digging into your soft flesh hard enough to leave bruises matching hers. "please, don't leave me. i'll be so good for you. i'll fight better. i'll win cleaner. i'll quit, i swear—just don't fucking leave me."
you're gasping, fingers tangling in her damp strands and holding on tightly as your hips start to rock into her mouth with every ragged breath, legs closing around her ears, helpless to the pace. "god… fuck, Jinx—"
"that's it. let me have it," she whimpers, nearly coming untouched right there and then at the sound of your moan, the kitteny mewls echoing in her hideout only making her hungrier. "let me fucking keep you. you want me on a leash, baby? you want me on my knees every night? just say it. just don't go."
she sobs into your cunt, trembling as she adds her fingers, slipping two in too easily and curling them until you keen, choking on pleasure, clutching at her like she'll disappear if you let go.
"oh, fuck! yes—yes, right there—!"
she pants when she finally comes up for air, lips shiny, chin soaked in a mixture of slick and spit, fingers still working you open in a relentless rhythm. "see? i'll fix everything. i'll make you proud of me again. i'll be your best girl." her other hand strokes your thigh like she's petting something precious, licking sloppier now as she humps harder, her own panties sticking uncomfortably to her neglected cunt. "you make me feel—mmph—clean. i might be the… the dirtiest fucking thing in this city, but you still let me eat like i'm worthy."
you can't even answer anymore—just a string of broken gasps between senseless babbling as she shoves her fingers deeper, grinding them into your sweetest spot while her mouth seals around your throbbing clit again.
"stay still," she rasps, only holding you down harder when you squeal and try to jerk away from the overwhelming sensation. her own whines are rising as she pants between licks, kissing you through every twitch and tremor like she's scared this will end. like she's fucking for her life. "you missed me too, didn't ya?"
"mmnh—y-yeah, missed… missed you—"
Jinx moans like it's a reward, pink eyes shining with adoration as they lock onto your flushed face. she sees you drool just a little, nodding like a ragdoll, eyes rolling back with every pass of her tongue against your sensitive bud.
"so come for me," she pleads, borderline delirious with it, eyes glistening. "come for me, and i swear i'll never bleed for anyone else again."
and you do, body seizing up as you orgasm hard in tear-slicked bliss, hips still bucking into her while you cream around her fingers, cunt fluttering in delight. she just groans and licks you through it like it's the best of aphrodisiacs, sweat running down her own back. even when you tremble and whine and try to shift away, she follows, not letting up just yet.
"i'm not done," she breathes, still coaxing you through it like she's trying to drag something holier out of you. "i have more to prove. let me prove it. let me be good for you."
"Jinx—s'too much, slow down!" your hands push weakly at her shoulders, more reflex than real resistance, your whole body trembling under her.
"then stay," she gasps immediately. "stay and i'll stop. i'll slow down."
"i will! i will, just… just gentler, please—!"
"you want me soft? you want me sweet?" she whispers, kissing your shaking thigh on the way up your body, crawling over you fully and pressing herself flush against you like she's trying to fuse you together. "i'll be that," she murmurs lovingly, tongue dragging over the sweat at your pulse. “just say you want me. say you still want me.”
“i do! i promise i do, just—mmph—”
she sucks a hickey into the hollow of your throat while she pumps her fingers deeper, thumb mean against your clit, and your gasps melt into sobs. you try to roll your hips away from the intensity, only to have Jinx whine and chase you again, pinning you fully beneath her weight. you moan loud, wrung out and overstimulated, but your legs spread open wider nonetheless, pleasure overriding everything else.
"oh my god," she gasps in awe, "you love it. you love me like this. all fucked and stupid over you. i know i get mean, baby… but i love you. i love you, i promise.”
the words should make you angry. instead, they go straight through you. she kisses you hard before you can answer, moaning softly into your mouth when you arch against her on instinct. you taste yourself on her tongue, all salt and musk. it's filthy, intimate in the ugliest way possible. it should feel wrong. it does feel wrong.
but that's just part of it, isn’t it?
"come again," she pants, eyes pleading as her forehead knocks against yours. "one more time, baby, just give it to me. let me make you come and then you can run…" a shaky laugh escapes her then, eyes squeezing shut for a brief moment. "if you still have the energy to."
and there it is again—that awful thing living between you. the push and pull of it. cruelty wrapped around devotion so tightly neither of you can tell where one ends and the other begins anymore. every sharp edge softened by desparation. every act of tenderness permanently poisoned.
the truly unforgivable part is that, somewhere along the way, this stopped feeling like something either of you knows how to survive without.
hiiiiiiiii love your work already, super awesome and idk how you posted so much already like wow.
i was wondering if I can please request a jinx x female Kiramman reader wether it’s like head cannons or some kind of scenario like maybe they are best friends but don’t act like it like they act literal gfs and get teased by Vi, Caitlyn, and everyone around them and they do things gfs do and like do cute things for eachotheror maybe jinx makes stuff for reader and they do each others makeup or get ready together and sleep together all cuddled up and stuff i feel like that would be so adorable and they are so love struck maybe jinx accidentally confessed and then it just blossoms into a relationship.
thank you so much!
of course! thank you for the request <3
❥・summary; reader and jinx are in love with each other- everyone can see that. except for them, somehow.
❥・tags/warnings; kiramman!reader, you're gfs but not but you are, friends to lovers, fluff, oblivious!reader, oblivious!jinx, i would say homoerotic friendship but this is sfw, what do i call it, background caitvi, fluff.
❥・wc; 5.6k.
thank you for your kind words!! i took a 3 month break in 2025 but was still writing in private, when i came back i posted everything at once hahah :) i'm glad you enjoy my work!!
at first, you were hesitant when your sister brought a girl home. it wasn’t that you weren’t used to guests, such company came with the territory of being a kiramman. you haven’t known this kind of company, though, and it was nerve-wracking. what kind of impression would you make? what should you expect from this mystery girl, this vi? would she like you? is she any good for caitlyn?
you’re younger, but still worry for her. you can’t help it. the first meeting comes and goes, a dinner that clearly makes vi anxious. she’s stiff and tripping over her words while trying to speak with your parents- she manages, somehow. you introduce yourself to her, and she shakes your hand. you think the skin of her palm is the roughest you’ve ever felt.
vi comes over more and more often over the coming weeks, her presence becoming less foreign. you make friendly chatter every once in a while, and your guard comes down as you realize just how happy she makes caitlyn. you’ve never seen your sister this vibrant before. whenever vi is near, there’s a certain tranquility to her; her worries are washed away in an instant, she looks at the woman like she hung all the stars in her sky.
you could’ve lived without seeing caitlyn pinning vi to a wall outside of the library, though.
she was familiar, that was all. you didn’t start truly paying attention until the first time vi dragged her sister along- the first time you heard of her having one. evidently, their relationship wasn’t the best. nothing like the closeness you and caitlyn share. still, she intrigued you. she ate dinner with you with no regard for table manners, while vi was at least trying.
you’ve never known anyone so reckless.
so free, unapologetically themselves.
the first time she spoke to you, though, was after vi and caitlyn went off to.. wherever they would go after the formalities were over. you didn’t like to dwell on it. she was left by herself in the living room, messy eye makeup and tattered pants a sharp contrast to the pristine marble and expensive furniture. lazily tossing around the end of one of her braids, she perked up when you came into view.
“there she is,” she said, a teasing edge to her voice. you weren’t sure what to do with that. so you didn’t do anything with it.
“did they leave you here alone?”
“yeah,” jinx purses her lips. “not surprised, though. you’d have to pry vi off your sister.”
“i-” you huffed, turning your face away. the gall this girl had to speak like this, but she wasn’t wrong. “yes, agreed. do you want me to get you something to drink? would you like me to start the fireplace?”
you’re just trying to be a good host, honestly, even though it’s technically caitlyn hosting this. jinx shakes her head, though, seeing as she already had her food and refreshments for the night. she does nod toward one of the corridors, though, a lazy smirk tugging at her lips.
“fancy house,” she says.
“thank you.”
“you wanna show me around, pretty girl?”
pretty girl.
you didn’t pay any mind to the heat rising to your cheeks. you just showed her around the manor, rambling on about the history of the place. the past generations of kirammans who had lived here- not that you ever particularly cared for that history, but it was the script you stuck to when showing guests around.
in the midst of it all, you exchanged your names. jinx didn’t shake your hand, though she did tell you your name suited you.
you could tell jinx was growing bored, though. you tried to switch tactics.
talk a little more casually, and stand with your hip popped like she did. odd, but nice, you thought.
she pointed out bits she liked, and was vocal about the parts she hated. you were mentally adding to the list of words that could describe this girl: untamed, impolite, blunt, opinionated, strong-willed, sardonic.
charming, as well.
even though she goes against everything your parents raised you to be, and she’s a far cry from what’s accepted in piltover, you couldn’t help being drawn to her. a sort of magnetic pull.
the life of a high-house girl might be comfortable, but it’s also sheltered. you never had any lasting friendships. the few you did have were confined to school buildings, and you fell out of touch with those people as you got older.
this was a golden opportunity. a girl around your age who interested you, and who returned that interest.
when jinx had to leave that night, you found yourself upset at the fact she was going. you missed her when she left, and though you tried to keep it under wraps, you wanted to see her again. you started to ask caitlyn when vi would bring jinx around again, to which your sister would always say she didn’t know.
a month later, vi finally brought her back.
the whole night, you were practically attached to jinx at the hip. once all the niceties between her, caitlyn, cassandra and tobias were over, she spent the night by your side, chattering about her recent adventures. the things she told you were thrilling: building bombs, tagging walls, testing out her glitter bombs in the square.
you’ve heard things about zaun. always portrayed in such a negative light. this is what members of piltovan society should avoid, you were told- though the way jinx spoke about it, so animated and with light in her rosy eyes, you knew you weren’t told the full truth growing up. you suspect caitlyn feels the same way, dating vi.
though vi is much more mellow than jinx.
that’s okay, you thought. you can handle an adventure.
this time, when jinx had to go, you asked for her phone number. she huffed, giving you a teasing comment along the lines of, “can’t get enough of me, huh?” but gave you her phone to type your number into regardless. you saw her set your contact name as your name, but with a few blue heart emojis afterward. huh.
your first time going to jinx’s hideout, you’re not sure what to expect. it’s also your first time in zaun, which complicates things. she lent you some clothes that’d help you blend in among the masses, and told you to keep your head down.
“don’t bother anyone, don’t stare. probably best if you stay quiet, too, at least until we’re there. someone hears you talk, they’re gonna know.”
“how would they know?”
“trust me,” she huffs, like the answer is the most obvious thing in the world. “they’ll know. we have our ways.”
you didn’t push any further. just followed her instructions as you walked beside her through the winding lanes, past the neon lights and smog of the undercity. it’s just starting to get dark outside, but as you’ve heard, zaun never sleeps.
she leads you down some more narrow paths, past some teenagers fighting, which she doesn’t pay any attention to. the street lights grow dimmer, until eventually there’s no street lights, but jinx knows what she’s doing. you have to trust her, no matter how much your stomach sinks, nerves getting the best of you.
“here we are,” she says finally, stopping in front of a structure you can’t name. she leads you down, underground, then to a heavy steel door that slams behind you when you enter.
neon spray paint, dim lighting, steel platforms without railings, a tent on one platform, a little cot, with a workbench smack in the middle of the space. you weren’t sure what you expected, though it makes sense. it’s all so jinx.
“careful walkin’. can’t lose balance in here.”
“i’m getting that,” you reply. the paths aren’t that narrow, though still enough to make you scared to walk too quickly. the girl shows you her space, just like you did yours, much less formally and much faster. she explains the monkey she spray paints everywhere, shows off her collection of patchworked clothes. her mechanical engineering textbooks that she makes sure to mention were swiped from one of those ‘prissy piltie bookstores.’ you roll your eyes, but don’t interrupt.
finally, she gets to the workbench. notebooks and blueprints are messily strewn about, half-finished explosives decorating the space. she gives a little grin and exaggerated, “ta-da!”
“you built all of these?”
“with my own two hands,” she affirms. “like ‘em?”
“they’re..” you trail off, trying to find the right words. “interesting.”
“good interesting or bad interesting?”
“good interesting.”
jinx chuckles to herself, picking up one of her projects and turning it over in her hands. “i’ll take that.”
she shows you her newest contraptions and explains all of the mechanisms, as well as the upgrades she wants to make. she rattles on like all of the terms she’s using are common knowledge. for you, it goes in one ear and out the other, even though you’re listening the best you can. this is all new to you. new, and strangely exciting.
there’s a shattered mirror, a collection of perfume. that, as well as a makeup collection unceremoniously scattered in front of said mirror. your eyes linger there, and it doesn’t escape jinx’s notice.
“you like all that stuff?”
“yeah,” you murmur. “i’ve always liked your makeup.”
jinx laughs at this, genuinely laughs. a lively sound you want to hear again. though you’re not sure what was so funny about what you said.
“i just slap it on whenever i roll out of bed, but thanks.”
she pauses and purses her lips. “want me to do yours?”
you nod without thinking. a little smile comes to jinx’s face as she rolls out her chair and gestures for you to sit, which she does. she gets a few eyeshadow palettes, glitters, and lipstick tubes out, as well as a pack of unused makeup brushes. then, the girl swings one leg over your lap before sitting down.
“i’ll get a better angle this way,” she explains. your breath catches in your throat, though you try not to pay any mind. trying to think back, the last friend you had that you hung out with outside of school hours was when you were fourteen. it’s normal for friends to be this close- surely. with that, the tension releases from your shoulders and jaw.
you don’t say anything, just sit there and let jinx work.
she swipes blue across your eyelids, uses a black pencil to give you a little smudged wing on each eye. then she moves onto blush, before putting highlighter on your cheekbones, the bridge of your nose, and your cupid’s bow.
“are you almost done?”
“gettin’ there,” she says, picking up one of the lipstick tubes. surprisingly, it’s a natural shade- jinx has a good eye. it’ll compliment you. “you’re already gorgeous, just sprucing you up a little.”
“thanks,” you murmur.
“shh, don’t talk.” the girl pops open the tube and swipes on the lipstick, careful around the outer edges to get a precise shape. but she’s still jinx, and on one of the bottom corners, it’s slightly uneven. so her tongue darts out to lick her thumb so she can clean it up, eyebrows furrowed as she compares both sides.
finally, she smiles to herself, and hops off your lap.
not having the weight there feels odd. you don’t get much time to think about it before jinx is turning the chair towards her mirror, and you see your reflection several times over in the shattered glass.
you look.. weird.
weird in a good way.
it’s bold, that’s for sure- an electric blue on your eyes? you don’t think you’ve ever done that. it’s still tasteful, though. the girl managed to strike that balance.
you look good.
“well? you’re bein’ awful quiet.”
“i like it,” you say, turning your face side to side in the mirror. it’s growing on you by the second. for all of her unruliness, this looks almost like a professional did it. “you did a good job.”
“hell yeah i did.”
you can’t help giggling at that. you turn back to jinx, who’s leaning on the workbench with her arms folded over her chest and one hip popped. her eyes are fixed on your face, though they go back to the mess of makeup products scattered on the desk. she shrugs.
“pretty as a picture. you should let me do that again next time.”
you and jinx fell into a quick routine. you’d often be over her place, or her over yours. if you couldn’t be together physically, you’d be up until the early hours of the morning, giggling over gods-know-what on your phone. your sister has asked you to quiet down more than once, and you always tell her to just go back to her room. she’s all the way across the hall!
vi didn’t have to be with her to visit, either. caitlyn would answer the door, and the second she saw jinx’s face, she’d shout up the stairs that you had a visitor. before, you’d have to drag jinx to piltover kicking and screaming. now? she’s more than willing, just to see her best friend. often showing up at the door covered in soot and smelling of gunpowder, alluding to her previous activities. sometimes battered and bruised. you might’ve questioned her at first, though the longer you know her, you learn that this is normal. to be expected, even.
without fail, each time, you lead jinx back to the bathroom connected to your room and sit her down on the toilet seat. she grumbles something about not needing to be babied, but her protests are gone by the time you’re knelt in front of her with a first aid kit. already in a matching pajama set with the lights dimmed, your eyelids heavy.
“how’s it lookin’, doc?” she huffs, then hisses through her teeth when the pad comes into contact with a cut on her leg.
you purse your lips. her wounds are superficial- a few long gashes, but nothing too deep. you mutter a soft ‘sorry’ as she winces, to which jinx waves off her hand like she’s telling you not to worry about it. the bleeding has stopped by now, all that’s left to do is get the rest of her clean.
“not too bad. you have to be more careful, though,” you sigh, concern creeping into your voice. jinx huffs and smirks weakly.
“careful is boring,” she replies. the girl then catches sight of your expression, the frown on your lips and your downcast gaze, and she presses her lips into a thin line. “..i’ll try. no promises.”
the next few minutes crawl by without another word between the two of you. only your laser-sharp focus on the cuts on her arms and legs, then the micellar water you squeeze onto another cotton pad to lightly scrub her face. rubbing at soot to reveal the scatter of freckles across her face, and the dark circles she sports proudly.
“i’ll get you some clean clothes. you can use the shower,” you say, standing up and turning over your shoulder. jinx opens her mouth to say something, but you’re out of sight before she can. you return with a pile of warm, clean, new-looking clothes and a towel. probably more expensive than anything the girl has ever worn, unless you count wearing fishbones on her back.
“thanks,” she says, slowly taking the pile. you give her a soft smile, then promptly pull back the shower curtain to show her how to work the faucet. once you’re sure she has it memorized, you return to your room. when did caitlyn get here?
you near jump back when you see her. your sister doesn’t react, just tilts her head at you, hands folded in her lap. “father says you’re needed downstairs.”
“for what?”
“i’m not sure,” she says. “it sounded urgent, though.”
you let out a deep breath and smooth back your hair with one hand. you never refuse him. not because you’re afraid to, but rather because you enjoy helping him. you like feeling needed, and knowing that your help matters.
on the other hand, your friend is injured and exhausted. you’d feel terrible just leaving her.
“jinx is hurt.. i don’t want to leave her right now.”
the corners of caitlyn’s lips tug upward in a soft, almost knowing smile. she nods, slowly getting up and heading toward the door.
“alright, i’ll go this time. take care of your girlfriend, yes?”
“she’s not my-”
“oh, relax. i’m only teasing.” she gives a little chuckle before heading out, the door clicking shut behind her. you huff, crossing your arms over your chest as you fall back onto your bed. you hear the water click off.
another moment, and jinx is shuffling toward your bed in the pajamas you gave her, cobalt braids now loose. you barely register it, though you do notice just how pretty she looks like this. less put-together. less of the madwoman piltover knows, more a girl just like you. your friend.
“easy,” you murmur. sleep is starting to take you by now.
“i’m fine,” she huffs. “got room for one more?”
you nod slowly, lifting up one end of the blanket and letting her scoot close to you. the girl is laid on her side, facing away from you. she settles against the pillows rather quickly. next to you, you can hear her breathing slowly begin to even out with each passing minute.
soon, though, she whispers a small, “you awake?”
you give a little ‘mhm,’ voice laced with sleep.
“‘s a little cold in here.”
“is it?”
the girl only nods. you turn to face her, face illuminated by pale moonlight. gods, is she beautiful.
if there’s anything you’ve noticed about jinx, though, it’s that despite having body heat that can keep you warm, she’s always freezing. without thinking you open one of your arms.
“c’mere.”
the girl immediately scoots closer, settling herself against you. your arms wrap around her middle as her head nestles into the crook of your neck, warm breath tickling the skin there.
“that’s better,” she mumbles, and you give a sleepy hum of acknowledgement. you can feel the tension draining from her body by the second as her breath evens out, until eventually, she’s limp in your embrace.
you don’t think you’ve ever seen her this still. you could get used to it.
jinx loved showing you around zaun. she says she’s catching you up to speed and making sure you’re ‘cultured.’ you might’ve thought you already were, given all the books you were raised with and the accomplished people you were introduced to, but apparently not. the neon lights and smell of smoke were foreign, yet you came to welcome them over time. impromptu gatherings, games of cards, all of it became something you looked forward to.
today, jinx decided to take you to the last drop.
“my dad used to own the place,” she explains. “before.. you know.”
you know a little bit. the girl is secretive about her past in a way that made you a bit uneasy at first. over time, though, you came to recognize that it’s a defense mechanism. it’s easier to not be vulnerable and let people in, rather than opening up and risking people using that information against her. seeing the person she is, and leaving her.
the mere thought of leaving her seems ridiculous to you, though you’re still able to see it from her point of view. little by little, she gives you slivers of her past, including her late father figure. well, one of them.
you don’t know the details. you just know that a bomb was involved, that vander died in front of her sister, and that you had to console jinx spiraling. tears pooling in her eyes while she rocked herself forward and backward, muttering something about ‘it’s all my fault’ and ‘you jinxed them, you fuck-up.’ it was the first time you saw her like that, and despite not dealing with this kind of situation before, it was like your instincts took over. you took care to ground her with your voice, then place a gentle hand on her shoulder when she was coming back to herself.
you’d do it a million times over for her, no matter how scary.
you snap back to reality when jinx announces that you’re here. stood in front of a large building, you don’t have to look at the sign to know this is the spot. the stench of whiskey and sound of bustling laughter gives it away, sets the atmosphere. you give a little smile before jinx takes your hand, practically dragging you inside.
she leads you through a crowd of rowdy patrons before sitting you down at the bar, then plopping down right next to you.
“chuck’s usually here.. where’d he go?”
you don’t know who that is, or if she’s even talking to you. the girl cranes her head to look behind the bar, before finally spotting a tall figure rinsing out glasses. she makes a show of wildly waving her hands and shouting after him until he turns over his shoulder, and visibly deflates at the sight of jinx.
you have to stifle a laugh.
he strolls over to the counter, placing his hands down and giving a polite nod to both you and jinx. there’s a menu in front of you that neither of you look at, jinx just orders two mocktails. she’s getting you to loosen up, little by little. shake off those pesky kiramman habits. she has to meet you where you are, though, and ordering a round of shots is anything but that.
“you’re doing great, chuck,” she giggles to herself. the girl slides some bills across the table that he tentatively takes. part of you wonders what she did to make him give her that look. she shrugs like she’s read your mind, though. “gave him a couple of surprises. not my fault he’s allergic to fun!”
you roll your eyes as the drinks are passed out to you. they look a little.. odd, but good enough, a bright pink that parallels the color of your friend’s eyes. she picks up and raises her glass, turning her knees to face you.
“a toast.”
“..to what?”
jinx’s brows furrow, her expression falls. she didn’t think that far, it seems. but she lights back up within seconds, wide grin stretched across her face. “to us! to you being amazing, and to me being.. me.”
“you’re amazing yourself,” you reply, and jinx shakes her head. never modest, but somehow always shy to accept your praises. she just raises her glass higher, and you clink it against hers.
“cheers,” you say in unison, then take your drinks. you might not have expected much, but this is good.
fruity, although not too sweet, with a citrusy aftertaste. the corners of jinx’s lips tug upward as she gazes on at you, watching your demeanor gradually relax. your shoulders open up, your spine a little less perfectly aligned, while you let yourself openly laugh at her jokes. while you sway along to the music, some underground band that neither of you are familiar with but both of you can appreciate.
“you said your dad used to own this place?”
“yeah. he stood behind the counter just like old chuck is.”
you nod, taking another sip of your drink. by now, thieram is back to his usual duties, unoccupied with customers and moving about the back of the bar. jinx huffs a laugh.
“i would sit at the bar when i was a kid and watch him work. sometimes he’d tell me stories about mean customers. always told me to be nice to people working jobs like this.”
you’re not sure if you would consider terrorizing the poor new owner nice, but you suppose for jinx, it is.
“it became a kind of.. second home, i guess. sometimes i’d build bombs when i was feelin’ down, sometimes i’d come here. vander always told everyone to be nice to me and the others or he’d kick their asses.”
you snort and smile, glancing over your shoulder to survey the patrons. it’s getting close to happy hour, with various crowds forming. people playing cards and mahjong on some sides, people arm wrestling on another, rowdy chatter from all around. some people are bartering business deals.
“a second home.. this place is kinda like zaun’s hub?”
“somethin’ like that,” she shrugs. “we have a few others. it’s a big place. but yeah, i guess it’s one of our staples.”
you nod. learning about jinx’s world was strange at first, with all of its thorns and smog, but now it’s interesting. you’re finding yourself wanting to know more and more, voluntarily coming down here to visit. putting on the same clothes jinx lent you, exploring alone and familiarizing yourself with the local businesses. if anyone could tell you were a ‘piltie,’ as jinx put it, they didn’t say anything.
“can i see the others?”
“maybe. hard to say what’s open right now.”
you both finish your drinks with idle chatter, jinx filling in little details about her favorite things here. she tells you of the shows they hold here, how the drinks have remained cheap despite higher taxes and inflation (piltover’s fault, she adds). “sometimes i still go to the shows, if i really like whoever’s playin’. a lot of the bands they bring in suck, though.”
you look at the wall clock after another mocktail and notice how late it’s gotten. that’s another thing you’ve learned about jinx: she makes a few hours feel like a few minutes. no other friend has made you feel so free, like nothing else in the world matters.
“it’s getting late, they’re gonna want me back home soon.”
jinx looks at the clock as well and scoffs. “so? you’re grown.”
“i know, but they’re gonna start asking questions, i’m the youngest and-”
jinx cuts you off with a chuckle and places a finger over your lips. your eyes go wide before she says, “i get it, hon. ‘m just teasing. we’ll get you home.”
you end up being the one paying the tab, giving a few bills to thieram and throwing in few extra for his saint-like patience with jinx. this time, you reach for her hand as she leads you out, the girl squeezing it softly as the cold air of the night hits you. she starts toward the bridge, where she knows a late-night train will be coming. seeing you actually get on it will put her mind at ease, rather than spiraling about whether or not you’re safe.
you rock back and forth on your heels while waiting.
“shouldn’t be more than two minutes,” jinx says. truly, you wish you had just a little more time with her. night has fallen, a veil of blurry constellations across the vast earth and the noise of the city calmed down a little. zaun never truly sleeps, though.
“i’ve never seen you get on any of the trains,” you point out. you purse your lips, and jinx gives a little smirk.
“because i don’t.”
“why do you know the schedule, then?”
“to make things easier on you,” she states, and your expression shifts to a soft smile. you squeeze the girl’s hand once again as the train approaches, before slowly letting go. it feels almost like losing a limb. your hand is supposed to be in hers, it makes sense.
“well, i guess this is it,” you sigh, and jinx’s smirk softens to a gentle smile. she takes you into her arms, squeezing you like you’re parting forever instead of just for the next few days. your arms wrap around her waist loosely, and she sighs against your shoulder.
“i’ll see ya. text me when you’re home?”
“i will,” you promise, slowly parting from her as you take your train pass from your pocket. as it pulls to a screeching halt, though, you see your sister from the window. and vi. shit.
they both spot you as they’re stepping off onto the platform- vi makes eye contact with you and gives a knowing smile. your heart pounds against your ribcage as she approaches. caitlyn is oddly silent where she’d usually greet you- and you swear, the last time they came down here, they were scaling walls and jumping from roof to roof. vi wouldn’t take public transport off her own volition.
the woman doesn’t slow in front of you, just walks past you and says, “you better be taking good care of her.”
you don’t get a chance to reply. you don’t even know what she meant, turning it over in your mind as you step into the car and take your seat.
she thinks you’re together.
all the things you do are pretty couple-like. you’ve known that, but at the same time, you’ve always been under the guise that you’re just friends. very close friends. even if you find yourself spacing out staring at the plump curve of her lips, or counting the freckles on her face as she sleeps. laughing at jokes that aren’t even that funny, just because they’re coming from jinx.
with little experience in the way of friendships, and none in the way of relationships, you don’t have any basis for comparison.
and still, you wish you could cross that line, one way or another.
the problem is how? how would you, and how could you, when things between you and jinx are so good, even if established as platonic?
you don’t want to dwell on it, but you can’t help doing so, either. it’s growing harder and harder to suppress the feeling with time.
late at night, jinx paid you another impromptu visit. instead of coming to the door this time, she pulled the old trick of climbing up to your window and throwing rocks at it. you scoffed at her antics, asking, “what are you, sixteen?” to which she giggled.
“always wanted to try that.”
she wanted to show you a movie she watched recently and ended up loving. it’s some trashy horror, obviously low-budget and without a clear direction in terms of writing. it has an odd charm to it, though. you can see why the girl enjoys it so much. her head is laid on your shoulder, a blanket lazily draped across your laps. the only noise is the dialogue and screams from the screen, turned up loud enough that your father will probably knock at any minute to complain. jinx’s doing.
“why does everyone think we’re dating?” jinx mumbles. you shrug, and jinx groans as her head is raised. playfully elbows your side as if to scold you.
“i mean, we do couple-y stuff, i guess.. and i do like you and all that, but-”
your head near snaps over to look at her. maybe she’s talking more to herself than you, because she realizes what she’s said, and promptly stops talking. a sheepish smile forms on her face, holding eye contact with you like her life lays in your hands. silently begging you to say something.
“..toots?”
“i- oh, gods,” you breathe out. “you’re serious?”
jinx only nods, still holding that expression. you’re not sure you’ve seen her stunned before.
you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. your palms are sweating, your mind racing with a million thoughts per second. neither of you dares to move. “i like you too, you know,” you whisper. “if you mean it like i think you do.”
“i like you more than friends should like each other,” jinx answers, and your heart near leaps out of your chest. all you can think to do in that moment is close the narrow gap between you two, connecting your lips with hers.
slightly chapped and cold, but still perfect in every way. the girl melts into you, kissing you like she’s afraid you’ll break. slow and gentle at first as the movie is long forgotten. your hands find her waist, soft as it’s always been as you get lost in the feeling of each other.
it feels like coming home after a long vacation, like the first fireworks in a celebration. it’s everything you could’ve wanted and more.
“you really feel that way?” you whisper.
the girl nods, connecting your lips once more. “i wouldn’ta said it if i didn’t mean it.”
she kisses you again, and again, and again- climbing into your lap and tangling her fingers in your hair, whispering sweet nothings under her breath. it’s still hard to believe that this is real, when it feels like you’re floating on air.
but it is. jinx is real, and she returns the same affections you do. after so long of pretending, there’s no longer a need. your tongue teases at the seam of her lips and she immediately lets you in, growing more hungry by the second. it turns into a mess of teeth and tongue, clashing against each other like waves on a shore. all that you can think is more. more of this, more of jinx. you're already growing addicted.
you’ve lost all sense, until there’s a soft clicking of the doorknob and you both jump away from each other. caitlyn peers in, her lips pursed, but she sees the way you’re panting. your hair a little less pristine than usual, and the smear of jinx’s plum lipstick on your own lips.
“nevermind,” she smiles, “i’m glad you two figured it out.”
❥・summary; a mysterious woman shows up on your grounds, exhausted and vulnerable. when taken into your home, she weaves a slow web of intrigue and allure.
❥・tags/warnings; vampire!jinx, human!reader, sheltered!reader, virgin!reader, experienced!jinx, strangers to friends to lovers, gothic themes, set in victorian era, frenchspeaker!jinx, isha is there for 2 seconds, lots of tension, yearning, forbidden-ish love, fluff, sliiight angst, blood drinking, smut at end, fingering, praise, scissoring, messy sex, multiple orgasms, some aftercare.
❥・wc; 13.0k
hello wow!! it's finally here! this fic is my baby and probably the fic i've poured the most time and research into. i have two accompanying illustrations that i commissioned by the incredible @gloomycattoo! ↓
vamp jinx | jinx and isha
i drew inspiration from a variety of places. this is heavily inspired by sheridan le fanu's 'carmilla' with some additional inspiration from charlotte brontë's 'jane eyre,' and a liiiittle bit of ava reid's 'juniper and thorn.' i also drew from patti smith's song 'because the night.' i still wanted to make sure my voice shone through, though, so i hope i was successful in that and that you enjoy <3
minors dni.
you hang your nightgown up in your closet, making a mental note to ask your housekeeper to wash it for you once you’re more alert. each vertebra stretches as you arch your back upward, letting out a yawn that releases tension from each muscle. last night’s rest was sufficient, maybe a bit too much.
as you start sifting through your wardrobe, something catches your eye in the mirror. you must not have noticed the sea of azure spread out across your bed when you woke, but it’s impossible to miss now. you turn back over your shoulder, seeing the figure more clearly: a petite woman with her back turned to you, soft blue waves of hair sprawled on your sheets. she has a white nightgown on, not different from the one you’ve just stripped off.
she doesn’t make any noise or shift, only softly breathes in and out.
you stand in place for a moment, awestruck. surely, if a woman was in your bed, you would have remembered it- no memory of her comes to mind, though.
you’ve never lived with any siblings. no companions have lodged. your entire life, it’s been you, your parents, the housekeeper, and the chef. guests may come infrequently, although they never spend the night.
the steady rise and fall of her shoulders puts you in a momentary trance. slowly, carefully, you step forward, one foot in front of the other, reaching out to grasp one of her shoulders.
the second you do, though, you jump back as if burned. she’s freezing, and still, completely undisturbed. if you couldn’t hear the soft exhales through her nose, you might think she was dead. that her shoulders moving was a trick of the mind.
you think you might open your mouth to try and wake her that way. perhaps ask who she is, and what she’s doing here. your heart leaps into your throat as she finally begins to stir, and then-
you sit up in your bed with a gasp, your chambers still shrouded in darkness. you blink the room into existence, then look to the spot next to you; empty, as always.
sketching might not be the most engaging thing, but it keeps your hands busy.
the apple trees outside of your house are your subject tonight; you’ve already perfected the shape and the flow of each intricate branch, the ripeness of each apple. now, you’re dipping your brush into the palette of watercolors you were gifted for last year’s birthday. almost all of the paints are at the bottom, though you’re determined to make it last.
since childhood, you’ve had odd dreams and visions; always of the same subject. a petite young woman, seemingly around your age, with blue waves that nearly reached her ankles. though her face has always been obscured, her voice was sometimes audible to you.
high pitched and smooth, but raspy in a way you haven’t heard in anyone else.
years spent trying to make sense of these dreams showed no results. every time you became aware you were dreaming, you would make frantic efforts to try and gather any information about her. even just her eye color, her age, or her name- to no avail. right as you were approaching her, about to lift the sheet shrouding her identity, the dream would come to an abrupt end.
you would be left with as many answers as you started out with.
at first, it bothered you to no end. it was a nagging question that made it impossible to rest. you would spend hours with your journal open, writing down every detail you recall from the previous night. reading previous entries and trying to see if any of them were connected, or if there were any clues you missed before.
recently, you’ve given up. endless hours of investigation bore no fruit.
the mystery was something you would always want answers to, but the thrill wore off. you came to expect this figure most nights. sometimes she would show up several nights in a row, and other times she would disappear for months on end, only to show up again right when you start to think you might be rid of her.
at the very least, her presence doesn’t weigh so heavily on your mind anymore.
with the absence of a piano playing and no ruckus outside, you’re left in relative silence.
it’s peaceful. easy to get lost in, paying careful attention to the pressure of each brushstroke. with time, the rich red begins to build up with sunlight hitting the tree from the right side–
until you hear an ear-piercing screech.
it startles you so much you drop your brush, leaving a splatter of red in the middle of the tree trunk with a gasp. it sounded close.
much closer than you should hope to hear a noise like that.
your first instinct is to peer out the window and survey your surroundings. though with darkness blanketing the earth like a veil, not much is legible to you beside the swaying of the trees in the wind, and a carriage crossing through the woodland.
no more screaming, but the noise has stuck with you. that screech rings in your ears, curls low in your belly and beckons you to do something. find out what’s happened, put a stop to it.
your feet are moving before you can even think.
your father isn’t home, but he won’t be angered by this if he doesn’t find out. you were raised with virtues of compassion, humility, eagerness to learn, and patience. this fit at least two of those.
besides, you still have your day dress on. there would be no risk of impropriety, either.
those rules you were raised with make your palms sweat. nearly make you turn back. the anxiety is overshadowed by the fact that you couldn’t resume your night in good conscience if you didn’t try to make sure things were okay. somebody could be in a dire situation, perhaps even on their deathbed.
they could need someone.
your hands held up your skirts as you rushed down the wooden stairs, creaking under your weight before finding your shoes in the drawing-room. fingers flying to lace them up, your heart was beating against your ribcage like a wardrum due to the exertion. once your boots are on, you swiped your keys from a hook near the door, then a matchstick from the guest table to strike a flame in your oil lamp. finally, you swing the door open, take a moment to clumsily lock it while gripping the light in your other hand.
it’s oddly windy tonight, even for a spring evening such as this. you survey your surroundings, whispering a silent prayer to the moon sitting full in the sky that she might offer you guidance and safety.
you’ve been out on the manor grounds countless times for early morning walks and sketching sessions in the warmer months. never, though, have you been allowed outside of your home past dark.
your parents tirelessly warned you that the night holds more evil than your mind could comprehend. as a child, they said crooks and ghouls lurked in the shadows. as you grew into adolescence, you were told that things beyond even their understanding were out there. when you entered young adulthood, they wouldn’t elaborate on either of those statements. every time you ask, you get the same response– “some things are better left unknown. we do not wish to confine you, but you understand that we must keep you safe, yes? do your exploring in the daylight hours. during the night, you are safest here.”
those words ring in your mind like you’re hearing them- like your parents are physically here.
after your mother was taken by consumption, your father only made the rules stricter.
you tried to be gracious and accept each one, following it carefully. he was never harsh, not a tyrannical ruler of your life, but he worried. he worried himself physically sick at times, despite your insistence that you’re a woman now. the world might have claws, but you will not let them sink into you.
his anxiety blinded him, though, and you grew more restless with each passing day. the careful regimens of the day, not being allowed to walk past the woodlands, and being forbidden from marrying until he’s sure you are ‘ready’ for callers (despite your lack of interest in marriage) bind you. they hold you in place like a corset laced too tight, so that you have to measure each breath you take and each decision you make.
cautiously, you lift the lantern to illuminate your path. having lived on these grounds your entire life, you know each crevice and burrow like the lines of your palm. the noise must have come from the path leading to the estate, not far into the forest. every second feels both too quick and like it’s dragging along.
all that you can think is someone is in need. and while it’s reassuring that you haven’t heard another noise, it also leads you to draw conclusions you don’t want to think possible.
your hair whips around you with the wind. you keep going, advancing toward the clearing in the trees to a narrow path. the last time you were here, it was to gather berries to bake with your mother. it’s been nearly two years since your last visit.
you swallow the feelings that threaten to rise with it, forcing your focus forward. someone needs you. someone’s life could very well depend on your timing.
with a misstep, your ankle gets caught in a thorny patch. you hiss through your teeth as the thorn digs into your skin, undoubtedly soiling your stockings. when you’ve managed to yank yourself free, the hem of your skirt is ruined.
no matter.
keep going, is what you keep telling yourself. the wind is milder here, the woodland serving as a barrier as you carefully illuminate your path.
you tried to steady your breathing and beating heart. the thrill of doing something forbidden is mixed with the fear of being discovered, and you try to bite it back.
you shine the light, moving it further into the woods, eyes darting all over.
the effort seems futile at first.
all you discover are trees and a barren cottage, which you used to play in as a child. your mother would scold you whenever she found you, telling you not to go this far. you never listened.
maybe your ears were deceiving you, you begin to think. could it have been a wild animal you mistook for a human?
until your eye catches something.
rather, someone.
laid on the ground, quietly groaning and shifting. a young woman of petite stature on her stomach near the roots of a chestnut tree, her clothes muddied and blue hair tousled out of its braided updo. her arms are held above her head as if she was in the middle of trying to crawl, but ultimately gave up. with a gasp, you drop to your knees beside her.
“miss? miss, are you okay?”
silence.
you slowly reach forward to grasp her shoulder and try to gently turn her on her back. the woman lets out a subtle groan as you maneuver her, finally lolling her head to the side. half-lidded blue eyes meet yours, making your heart stop for just a moment.
“miss. are you alright?”
she gives a slow nod of her head as she tries to rise into a sitting position. with a wince of pain and a hiss through her teeth, though, you rush to support her back as she moves.
“you do not need to speak to me, i only wish to help,” you explain, kneeling in front of her and folding your hands in your lap. “please, allow me that.”
her eyes meet yours once again. the woman surveys you, the torn and muddied hemline of your dress, the crease between your brows. she takes in the slight frown on your lips, but her own expression remains unaffected.
“everything is alright, i’ve only had a scare,” she breathes out, finally. voice raspy and strained like every syllable hurts.
“you hardly seem alright.”
she sighs, and nods as if in resignation. when you look closer, you notice the cuts littered across her face. her skirts are lifting up at the ankles slightly, revealing splotches of blood seeping through her stockings. even in the dim light, there’s a hint of bruised skin that you can see.
silence stretches between you two, not awkward, only unsettling. she’s beautiful, that much is clear- soft freckles across her face, dark brows, pearlescent pale skin that’s seemingly glowing in the night. her eyes are bright and soft, and her lips are plump. cracked and bleeding, yet gorgeous nonetheless.
she could’ve run by now, if she had the energy. she could be begging you for help through tears. she’s done neither of those things, though, and seems to be putting her fate in your hands.
“do you have anywhere to stay?”
“no,” she says. “i did, just a few hours ago. not anymore.”
you say the words before you can even think of them. “we have ample room at my house. it is not a far walk, and i can tend to your wounds until you are well again. would you come with me?”
to your surprise, she only grumbles a little bit, but nods yet again.
she’s given no indication of her identity or her background. you haven’t the slightest clue what put her in such a compromising situation. maybe it’s the loneliness of the house, but you feel a pull to her that you can’t explain. it’s been a mere five minutes and you want to know this woman more, you want to cling to her every word and spend every waking moment with her.
as you guide her into a standing position and hook one of her slim (and surprisingly strong) arms around your shoulders, you’re struck by how cold she is. gods only know how long she’s been out here- it only makes you move quicker. taking long strides toward the manor, while you keep a steady grip on her and try not to jostle her too much.
she’s had enough pain for one night. you don’t want to add to it.
neither of you speak the entire walk back. you’re careful for vines, stepping stones, anything that could throw off your balance. it’s an odd feeling, having someone so vulnerable in your care, when your whole life, you’ve been independent. the closest you ever had to a friend was a neighbor girl who lived at an estate a mile off- you would walk almost an hour to see her so that you could share your books, braid each other’s hair, and talk about your dreams beyond your estates.
when you were ten, you walked to her home, skin buzzing with excitement. you had just finished the most recent book she lent you, and you were itching to tell her about it. what you found when you approached the home, though, was silence. the usual lit-up parlor was dark, the home was barren. it was like she and her family had vanished into thin air.
after that, the next closest thing was your governess- but she was uninterested in her position, seemingly troubled by her own life.
as you clumsily swing the front door open, you lead the woman over to a couch and unceremoniously lowered her down. she made a little grunt of pain, but no further noise or protests.
first, you walk to the fireplace to throw a few logs in and light them with flint and steel. your father must’ve gathered wet logs, seeing as the flame took a few tries to light- eventually, though, the fire burned and began to warm the room. you can’t bear the thought of this girl being even more uncomfortable than she already is.
sinking to your knees in front of her, you gently take one of her legs into your hand to start examining her wounds.
the best you can through her stockings, at least.
“would it be rude of me to ask what happened?”
she shakes her head with a little scoff. she seems to be a little more alert, now that she’s out of the cold. “not at all. i must have been quite the picture, injured and helpless.”
“no, that was not it. i only wanted to help, truly.”
“that’s very noble of you, but i assure you, i am alright. i only had a scare. i was on a carriage, halfway through my journey to the city, when i made a joke pointed toward the coach. i thought it was very clever, but he didn’t agree.”
your lips twitch into something like a smile, just for a second.
“and then?”
“and then i got thrown off the carriage. i landed right in a bed of vines, the thorns must have mangled my legs.”
“they are far from mangled,” you state. although you don’t have a full view, it looks to only be a few scratches. “only a few cuts here and there. although, i can’t see them very well.”
she hums in acknowledgement. “you can take my stockings off, if that will help.”
you almost gasp.
you feel heat creeping up your neck, toward your cheeks and the tips of your ears. you’re coming to find out she’s a rather bold woman, that, or she simply doesn’t care for formalities or the order of a friendship.
you’ve only just met this woman. despite your inexperience with companionship, you’re certain friends are not meant to undress each other.
you steel yourself and swallow, taking a deep exhale. it’s only stockings, you tell yourself. this is so you can help her.
with suddenly trembling hands, your hands disappear under her skirts to find the waistband of her stockings and slowly pull them down. she lifts her hips slightly to help you, and as you peel the cotton from her legs, you see more clearly the bruises littered across her skin. a few long, although superficial cuts. the most concerning wound, though, is a large gash across her right calf.
“you’ve stopped bleeding,” you say. “but this wound.. it is no wonder you couldn’t walk. or stand, for that matter.”
she doesn’t make any noise or protest as you examine her, only stays still. even while you’re examining her wounds, you can feel her gaze pointed at your face, how intently you focus on this. it’s the slightest bit unsettling.
“am i hurting you?”
“no. you would know if you were.”
“okay,” you murmur. “might i ask for your name?”
the woman hesitates for a moment as your gaze flickers back up to her, but in a quieter voice, she gives it to you. “jinx.”
“jinx,” you repeat, then give her yours in return.
“a pretty name.”
you’re certain that heat hasn’t moved from your cheeks. “thank you.”
for the first time, her lips tug upward in a subtle smile, making your heart leap. you swallow in an attempt to gather yourself as you pour cold water onto the wounds, gently washing it out. if you knew you would be in this situation, you would’ve prepared some diluted wine.
jinx doesn’t react. she’s staying perfectly still, more still than you’ve ever seen a person be. you grab a roll of cotton to begin wrapping around her legs, securing it by twisting and tucking the ends in.
“do you feel any better?”
“yes,” jinx says, wiggling her legs around just a little bit. no winces or hisses like before. “this is all very kind of you, really.”
“don’t worry about it,” you respond. you offer jinx a hand to help her stand up, which she takes- and you’re struck by how cold she still is. you were sweating through your gown from the fire, and she seems completely unaffected.
you don’t pry, though. perhaps she just runs cold. with slow and careful steps, you match jinx’s pace as you help her up the stairs toward the second floor of your home. deep oak floorboards groan under your weight as you steer her in the direction of an empty bedroom.
“we have plenty of room for guests, it is a shame we don’t use it more,” you comment, and jinx hums.
you stop at the bedroom right next to yours and push the door open with your foot. dust strikes you immediately- you’re not sure if you can recall anybody staying in here in the entire course of your life. regardless, the sheets are clean and the room is furnished.
“these will be your quarters for tonight,” you lead the girl to the bed, gently sitting her down. “i will talk to my father when he comes home, but i hope that we can help you recover. i would hate to see you suffer more than necessary.”
jinx nods a bit and gives an exaggerated yawn, stretching her arms up above her head. that half of her body seems to be unaffected, at least. you go to your room quickly enough to take a nightgown and a change of clothes for the morning, then place it on the bed next to her.
“this is yours for tonight. we have a tub just down the hall-” you point her in the direction of it, “that you’re free to use. my chambers are only next door, so if you should need anything, i won’t be going anywhere.”
“thank you,” she says. “you really are very kind.”
“i told you, it is nothing,” you back up toward the doorway, a pang shooting through you. you don’t want to leave her side- maybe it’s empathy toward her and her circumstances, or maybe it’s the way you’ve known jinx a mere hour and she’s already managed to captivate you.
if only you could stay here longer. that would be selfish, though, especially considering the state she’s in. it goes against everything you’ve been taught, and everything you know about friendship.
so you give her a small smile, and mutter, “goodnight.”
“goodnight,” she says in return. she stands on wobbly legs, using the wall to balance her, but she seems to already be in less pain. within seconds, the woman is walking without assistance, albeit slowly.
you sigh and retreat to your quarters. you can hear the faint sound of water running just down the corridor as you unlace your corset, slip off your skirts and stockings, and step into your white nightgown. with your finger and thumb, you snuff out the candles burning on your nightstand.
with exhaustion finally setting in, you let your hair free of its updo as you climb into bed, not bothering to gather your paints or sketches.
you only crawl under the covers, unable to close your eyes. fatigue is there, yet not strong enough to pull you under. the events of the evening keep playing over and over again; how jinx was thrown out for a simple joke, her silent gratitude, the shine of her powder-blue eyes as they looked into yours, how tired she sounded. despite all of it, she trudged on.
your father is an issue you’ll deal with come morning. for now, it feels almost thrilling to have done this. you did it out of compassion, and at the same time, this is your secret- at least for tonight. secrets are a luxury you haven’t had for much of your life.
discovering more about her doesn’t feel like a want as much anymore as it feels like a need. jinx is unlike anything you’ve ever seen before. unlike any of the women in your austen novels, and a far cry from the ladies of the lyrical ballads.
eyelids beginning to droop, you roll over onto your side and let out a heavy breath. the last thing you hear before sleep claims you is the tap switching off, followed by a comfortable silence.
as predicted, explaining what happened to your father was a challenge. trying to phrase everything in a way that would make him worry the least, while also making sure he wouldn’t kick jinx out- it might be one of the hardest things you’ve done as of late.
he didn’t like the thought of a strange woman being in his home. you told him that she would be out as soon as she was recovered. he asked where she would go. when you said that she had no place to reside, he gave a deep sigh, and told you that jinx would stay. even if it was beyond her recovery time, she would stay until there was a place for her to go.
“she is better as a guest than a beggar,” he said, rubbing the bridge of his nose in exasperation. “perhaps we could assist her in finding a home.”
that was all. as hard as you thought it would be, but quicker to conclude and a better solution than you thought possible.
jinx would have a safe place to regain her health- that was one of the things that excited you. the other, though, what excited you most, was that you might get to call her a friend, just as you had hoped to.
it’s approaching ten in the morning, and jinx still isn’t awake; you debated knocking on her door and checking on her, but would she feel offended? would that be a breach of her privacy?
besides that, last night had clearly been a shock to her system. perhaps her body was trying to overcompensate for missing rest. you decided to busy yourself making lunch for her- something simple enough it wouldn’t require effort, but still savory enough that it shows effort. you settled on a welsh rarebit with brewed tea, and kept it under the stove to heat up when she woke.
until then, you sat back by the window of your bedchambers- overlooking a sunny autumn day, albeit less windy than last night. the red splotch on your painting stared at you, while you wracked your mind for any possible solution. could you make the tree darker? no, then you would have to do the same to the rest of them. maybe you could use this to alter the lighting, but all of the solutions you can think of would look unnatural.
with a groan, you tear the painting out of your sketchbook and start rapidly sketching a new rendition of it. the trees in the same spot, the apples hanging off them just the same, the only change to the piece is that this time, you add a wooden carriage emerging from the clearing in the forest. it isn’t even a thought, it’s just something that comes out of your hand.
your focus is intent on your work, until you hear a clear “hello?” from the doorway. with a gasp, your head whips around.
it must be approaching one in the afternoon now, and jinx has only just risen. she’s in a deep plum day dress that you lent her, silks hanging off her like they’re meant to be there. neater than last night, she has her hair pulled into double braids, twisted into a sort of crown round her head. her face more bright, her stance completely balanced.
“oh, hello,” you murmur, placing your paints down. “did you sleep well?”
“very well.”
you nod to her legs, covered by her skirts, but seemingly in less pain. “are you feeling better?”
“much better. there’s almost no pain now, if you can believe that.”
“do you always heal quickly?”
“yes, i suppose so,” she steps into your room, slowly coming to stand next to you near your bed. “i don’t think of it much. is it alright if i sit next to you?”
“quite alright,” you scoot over in order to give her ample room, and the mattress dips under her weight.
“would you mind drawing the curtains?”
“oh. no, not at all.”
the request strikes you as strange, especially as the sun isn’t particularly bright today- but maybe she’s sensitive. you hadn’t asked if she had hit her head, or maybe the daylight doesn’t relax her as it does you. you don’t impose. after closing the curtains, you sit back down next to the woman, seeing her shoulders relax. her knees are turned to face you, and in this light, you can see her features more clearly.
rounded blue eyes are her most striking feature- gentle and enthralling all the same. every time they land on you, you feel something curling in you, pressing against your ribs like it’s clawing to get out. a petite nose with a low bridge, dusted by faint freckles. plump lips that seem to take on an unnatural shade of red, one that oddly suits her. dark, thick, perfectly arched brows that raised and creased with her every word and reaction.
jinx is absolutely beautiful. yet still, she isn’t perfect.
she looks almost as if she were carved from marble, skin smooth and pearlescent; yet if she were, you could see where the sculptor’s chisel had slipped. the bridge of her nose is slightly crooked, and the shape of her lips just a little bit uneven. there’s a subtle gap between her two front teeth, one you find quite endearing. from what you had seen of her legs the night before, there were already quite a few scars on her body. none of this deterred you, it only made you more interested.
jinx is statuesque. a rare kind of vision you couldn’t have imagined yourself.
“do you often paint here?”
you nod, suddenly shy about the subject. nobody has ever asked about your sketches- nobody outside of your family, that is.
“could i see?”
with a swallow, you nod once more. picking up the new painting and placing it in the woman’s hands. she examines it carefully, silently, and her lips quirk up the slightest bit.
“your coloring is lovely,” she hums. the words and soft tone she uses send heat blooming throughout your chest, and you’re at a loss for words. “i’ve never been good at any of this. i try, though. maybe just for the fun of it.”
“surely you have strengths in other areas,” you offer. “you never told me what you were doing. before you.. ah.”
jinx chuckles and shakes her head. “you can say it. i won’t be offended.”
“..before you got thrown to the ground.”
the woman nods and clears her throat as she absentmindedly runs her fingertips over the painting. with anyone else, you might reprimand them for smudging paint or being careless. with her, all words of that kind die on your tongue.
“right. i’ve had many adventures in my life,” she explains. “i’m not sure where to start.”
“wherever you think would be best. are you married? or- oh, are you a working woman?”
jinx shakes her head with a giggle. the little piece of bang she’s left out sways side to side. “no, i’m not married. i confess, i’ve never had any interest in marrying. as for working.. i was, at one point.”
your eyes widen. your intrigue only heightens at this- a young woman, such as yourself, not interested in marrying? you thought you might be the only one in the world with that feeling. you lean forward, subconsciously, voice more breathy than you intend.
“and what did you do for work?”
a slow, small smile stretches across the woman’s lips. she pauses for a moment, lost in thought and like she’s trying to articulate them. “hm.. well, i didn’t start working until machines started appearing everywhere. one after another, after another. so many of them! i did many things here and there; whoever would have me, i was happy to work. i enjoyed steam trains the most, though. i was able to work on the engines and poke the fires, it really was a lot of fun. besides that, i never had anybody hovering near me- they knew the work was in good hands, so i was left to my own devices. i really did have a lot of fun.”
every piece of information is more interesting than the last. not only someone independent, but someone intelligent. resourceful.
even though you’ve only just met her, you feel like you’ve known her for years. like you are relearning the life of an old friend, or a distant lover.
“most recently, i worked as a governess. a woman called sevika owned the house, who i suspect didn’t like me very much. no matter, though- i worked with a little girl called isha, and taught her french. she never spoke a word, but she was excellent in her reading and writing.”
“a governess,” you repeat. “you are educated?”
“hm, not formally. but you wouldn’t be able to tell the difference.”
she’s right there. it brings a soft chuckle out of you.
independent. resourceful. intelligent. stunning. a good sense of humor.
does this jinx have any faults?
“did you and isha get along well?”
“we were great friends! young, but so bright. she had such a love for learning. i would help with other subjects as well, but french was always her favorite. that girl would read the french dictionary and find enjoyment in it.”
the smile on your lips only gets wider with each passing second. you’re forced to recall your own governess- the boredom on her face every time she taught you, how hurried each lesson was. how eager she was to retreat to her quarters, even when you had questions about the contents of the day’s lessons.
“my governess gave me french lessons,” you say, seeing jinx’s eyebrows raise the slightest bit. “the information never stayed with me, though. i suspect she did not like her position very much.”
jinx gives a scoff. she rolls her eyes, and scoots the slightest bit closer to you- making your eyes widen and your palms sweat. you grip the edge of the bed, trying to keep your bearings. “well, she shouldn’t have been a governess. i’ll teach you, if you would like.”
“you would do that?”
“sure,” she replies. “i must do something to earn my keep here, surely.”
“you are injured, there’s no need for you to earn anything.”
“but i would like to,” jinx says. one of her hands- just as cold as the night before- rests atop yours, sending shock waves through your system, making the air around you feel charged. how does she already have such a hold over you? “you have been something of a savior.”
the smile on jinx’s lips tells you she means this in jest, but you shake your head with an amused scoff. you? a savior? that’s a title you’ve never considered.
“hardly. i saw an injured woman and brought her into my home to recover.”
“now i am recovered, and i must thank you.”
you sigh, shoulders dropping. with her hand still resting over yours, you tilt your knees to face hers and place your free hand atop hers. “alright. you may teach me- but humor me, jinx. whatever happened to isha?”
jinx’s smile didn’t waver, though her voice dropped to something softer. a bit less playful. “that i cannot tell you, i admit i was unwelcome in the estate after some events unfolded– unrelated to isha, of course– and i was forced to take my leave. i think about her often, though. i’ve always hated formalities, but how i miss that little scrawl of ‘mademoiselle jinx.’ even though i insisted that simply ‘jinx’ was alright.”
“i’m sure she thinks of you, too,” you murmur. “it seems you had quite an impact on her, even if your time together was brief.”
jinx doesn’t say anything to that. her gaze holds yours, her smile softening, and you squeeze her hand. the spell of the moment is broken when you hear your name called from downstairs. your father must need something- you sigh as you rise from the bed.
“i made lunch for you. i will warm it, then take my leave,” having to say those words sends a pang of something you don’t quite recognize through you- hurt? longing? neither of those are rational feelings, and you know that. especially considering you’ve known jinx less than twenty-four hours.
it’s beyond your control, though. jinx has already burrowed into the depths of your mind, curled herself up and found a home there.
the next month felt slow, but passed quickly.
you’ve heard the saying that time passes quicker when you’re enjoying yourself, but every moment with jinx felt drawn-out. it felt slow in the best way, like you wanted to bite into it and keep it going just a little longer.
the woman always rose in the afternoon, despite retiring to her chambers at a reasonable hour. she would emerge refreshed, as beautiful as the first time you saw her- with no mention of her abnormal schedule. you might’ve questioned it, yet this was your first real friend. never mind the neighbor girl you grew close to years ago.
some nights, you would wake up feeling dizzy and disoriented, confused as to how you got in the position you were in. you didn’t remember unbuttoning the first two buttons of your nightgown’s collar, and you couldn’t explain the symmetrical twin puncture marks on the pulse point of your throat.
they were painless, and you would come back to yourself in due time. it may have been strange, but you never questioned it. perhaps you forgot to fasten all of the buttons in your exhaustion. maybe there were mites or bed bugs- you made mental notes to alert your housekeeper.
no matter what, though, you did not tell jinx.
you didn’t want to risk anything that could upset her. you didn’t want to press too hard, despite the overwhelming need to know more.
to know about what she occupied herself with in the mornings, the details of all of her past adventures, the inner workings of her mind. the inner workings of her mind fascinated you the most, and made you the most worried for her.
there are evenings you find her talking to nobody in particular, telling them to leave her alone and tugging at her hair. sometimes you can hear her pacing the room, other times you’re certain you hear her screaming. is she a madwoman? surely not, not with how quickly she recovers from these episodes- but you wouldn’t be deterred if she was.
some nights, jinx spends hours cradled in your arms while you gently reassure her. other nights, she rants to you through broken sobs, most of her words unintelligible.
none of it makes you any less inclined to be around her. it only makes you want to hold her closer, and chase away every voice that dares disturb her peace.
you may not know her past, but you can help her in the present.
jinx enjoys going on walks with you, citing it as a refresher for her mind. she only does so when it’s overcast, though, giving the excuse that the sun hurts her skin and eyes. at first, you found it a bit odd, yet again, you never questioned a thing.
it’s worth it to have someone to walk with, to share your world with. you point out the fountain you used to play in as a small child, as well as the tree you read under as a young teenager. jinx takes all of the information in with a small smile, sometimes grabbing your hand and giving it a soft squeeze.
you found a home for yourself on one of the stone benches. the woman went through your home library and found a substantial amount of french books- which she studied, then picked out information she thought would be helpful to you.
“the easiest way to speak in the past tense will be passé composé, at least for now,” she explains, flipping to a section that focuses exclusively on the subject. “i know, it’s all very formal. boring. unfortunately, it’s your only option right now.”
“it’s all so confusing,” you sigh. your eyes scan over the words, all a jumble to your mind. “how did you manage?”
“with patience.”
jinx flips to another page that explains the sentence structures and gives examples of the tense, angling the book so that you can see it better. the outsides of her thighs are pressed against yours, and your heads are close enough that the loose hairs from her fringe brush your cheek.
“here. remember all of the vocabulary we’ve gone over, and try. no need to be perfect, just try.”
you’re not sure where to start.
jinx is a much better teacher than your governess ever was, that much was clear from the beginning. though you’re still not very confident in your french abilities, she always pushes you to do more. go outside of your comfort zone. never beyond your limits, and always beyond what you thought was possible.
the girl’s eyes stay fixed on your expression, ready to jump in whenever you might need it.
“je me suis..”
“yes,” jinx encourages, her tone growing higher.
you clear your throat. what was the word for ‘friend’ again? your brows furrow as you try and just concentrate on everything she’s taught you-
“je me suis fait une amie.. adorable?”
jinx gasps and squeals as soon as the words leave your mouth.
“ah! you flatterer, you,” she giggles, and you descend into a steady stream of laughter with her. she playfully bumps her shoulder against yours, and your noses bump into each other. something about this moment feels familiar, like a shared memory between the two of you, but you cannot place it despite your efforts.
“i am no flatterer,” you smile, tilting your head. “did i say it right?”
“yes, lovely, you did,” she affirms. “you may not have confidence in your abilities, but i think you’re doing wonderfully.”
now it’s your turn to giggle. you hope that the heat rising to your cheeks goes unnoticed by jinx, that the way your eyes light up at each of her praises isn’t too obvious. you keep telling yourself that this comes with learning something new, this sense of accomplishment. that doesn’t explain the want to be closer to your tutor, though, or the feeling of something blooming in your chest when you retain information. when she tells you how well you’re learning.
it’s simple admiration for the skills she wields. bilingual, a good teacher, and not nearly as uptight as half the other governesses you’re sure are out there.
jinx’s smile widens at your expression, waiting for your flustered laughter to die down before she coaxes you to face her with her forefinger under your chin. your noses almost touching, your faces so close that the both of you are sharing breath, it feels as if the air has been sucked from your lungs.
what a wonderful feeling, you think.
“pour vos connaissances,” the girl whispers. “je pense que tu es la plus belle chose que j'aie jamais vue.”
you don’t understand half of what she’s said, try as you might to decipher it.
something about it, though, that raspy tone jinx said those words in- makes the heat grow even stronger. makes your breath catch in your chest as your eyes meet hers once again, and subconsciously, you lean into her touch.
“yes,” you murmur, feigning understanding. “indeed.”
with ample time, your father grew used to jinx’s presence, and came to welcome it.
you’ve become so much more lively in this short time, it would’ve been difficult for him to not notice.
he might not see you trailing after her like a lost puppy, desperate to keep talking, or her leaning her head on your shoulder and slumping against you when her energy’s run out. always at the oddest times, that girl- never exhausted late at night, when she should be.
he does see jinx whispering into your ear while at dinner, though, bringing a smile to your face. while he may scold you, he truly does appreciate that you’ve found a friend- someone who you can practice your braiding skills on and who can keep your secrets under wraps. although he never did much to encourage friendships in your childhood, your father supposes it’s important for a young woman to have at least one or two.
he doesn’t poke or prod. although jinx has long recovered by now, and has reported looking for employment, she’s stayed and burrowed her way into your daily routine. into your mind, your heart. the woman has left a bigger imprint than she’s realized- engraving each letter of her name into your veins.
after another session of french lessons, wherein jinx taught you about indirect and direct object pronouns (most of which flew over your head, but you pretended you understood. besides, her voice was enough to keep you listening), you were ready to retire. although you slept well the previous night, you were exhausted- the type of exhaustion that seeps through your skin and into your bones. with heavy eyelids, you brushed a kiss to jinx’s cheek and whispered your goodnights as to not wake your father.
after bathing and climbing into bed, you laid on your side and curled into yourself, finally allowing your heavy eyelids to fall closed. it isn’t long at all before you feel sleep begin to take you, and it feels gentle. like being lowered onto a cloud, your mind blank and tranquil.
all that’s audible at this time of night is crickets chirping and the swaying of tree branches, the winter wind whistling quietly. it doesn’t take long for you to get the rest you so desire, sleep taking you into its merciful arms.
you’re just beginning to dream, something peaceful and blank. nothing vivid or unsettling like dreams that have plagued you in nights past.
until the sound of floorboards creaking breaks the spell, and you realize you’re hearing jinx pacing around.
this is far from the first time you’ve heard it, though it isn’t usually this loud. or this rampant. it’s as if she’s running laps around the room, frantically searching for something. this isn’t something you’re used to- part of you finds it grating, and the other part finds it concerning.
you groan under your breath, eyes still closed. you simply want to rest. the urge to turn over and fold your pillow over your ears is strong, but rivaling it is the tug towards her room. she is your friend, isn’t she? you’ve comforted her before, and you suppose this is no different.
you groan, lifting a fist to your eyes to rub the sleep out of them. your head feels lighter than you remember it feeling, and your neck is faintly throbbing. you slowly lift two fingers to check the junction at your throat, the usual spot- and like you’ve grown used to, two symmetrical puncture wounds rest there.
unidentifiable and mysterious as they may be, your friend could be in danger. there are more pressing matters at hand.
with a heavy sigh, you swing your legs over the side of your bed and pad over to the door. twisting the knob slowly, quietly as to not draw attention, then approaching the door next to yours. you raise your fist, slower than usual as you try to shake the lightheaded feeling, and give three slow knocks.
“jinx?” you say, voice hushed. “is everything alright?”
suddenly, the pacing stops as you push the door open.
all of the noise comes to a halt as jinx’s figure comes into view. her blue hair is undone, loose in tight waves and down to her ankles. her eyes a glowing magenta instead of the usual gentle blue, while her chest heaves.
you realize now that since her moving in, you haven’t been inside the quarters jinx has claimed- and you haven’t seen her past the time you usually retire.
as she slowly turns to you, panting, a trail of pink following her turning head, you see the front of her white nightgown.
absolutely covered in blood, dripping with it, her chin down to her sternum soaked.
your eyes widen and you clamp a hand over your mouth to stifle your gasp, staggering backward in the doorway. jinx’s lips are parted and painted with that very same crimson, a violent rouge. you can faintly see the tips of sharp canines, glinting in the light.
she looks less like a common, educated lady, and more like a bloodthirsty beast.
“jinx,” you breathe out.
she looks at you, eyes softening the slightest bit. even through your shock, you can notice the familiar mannerisms- the tilting of her head, as if the woman is studying you. the subtle tug at the corner of her lips.
any feeling of confusion is gone. you’re more alert than ever right now- sensitive to every jitter of her body and every breath she takes. the woman before you is no less of the friend you’ve become familiar with, yet now she’s something changed. something oddly familiar to you, like you’ve spoken with her in nights past.
the more time passes, the less afraid you are. the more fascinated you become.
“darling,” she whispers. “why are you awake at this hour?”
“..what happened?”
the light emanating from jinx’s eyes slowly fades, as the hue shifts back to blue. with one linen sleeve, she wipes her mouth and licks her lips, quietly swallowing.
“nothing. i don’t suppose this looks like nothing, though, does it?”
you swallow. “no, it doesn’t.”
jinx sighs, pressing her lips into a thin line as she beckons you closer with one finger. as you approach, you pass your own reflection in the mirror, growing closer to jinx’s physical self. and yet, jinx’s reflection is absence. in the looking-glass, your image stands alone.
seeing her closer, you notice the blood starting to dry up and crust on her lips. her once-pale fingertips are stained with the liquid, as her eyes shakily meet yours. in this light, with her hair falling around her face like a mourning veil, a realization hits you like a slap to the face.
you have seen her before. more times than you can count.
that blue-haired woman who lingers in your dreams, visiting you every now and again. weaving mysteries you’ve never been able to solve until now.
the pale hand that would reach out for you in your dreams belonged to the very woman you took in- that loose sea of waves was jinx’s. the voice that called out for you had the same rasp that jinx’s does.
your lips part. you realize you must look dumb, staring at the woman like this, but you’re at a loss for words. gradually, she steps closer to you, and any person in their sound mind might be running by now.
not you, though.
“i know you,” you breathe out.
“yes,” she replies. “i suppose you do.”
“why would you hide this from me?”
“as to not frighten you,” the woman murmurs. she grasps both of your hands in hers, transferring sticky, half-dried blood onto your skin as well. your eyes don’t leave hers. “i have been visiting you for a long time now; you’ve figured that out quicker than even i thought possible. you’re a very clever girl. i just.. i did not intend for all of this to happen so soon. to meet you face-to-face, although i’ve yearned for it, for you. i’ve known you for a very long time.”
“as i have you,” you sigh. “i just.. do not understand.”
jinx only studies you for a moment. your expression, your tone of voice.
she’s expressed in moments past how afraid she is to be alone- despite the fact it’s the most familiar state of being to her. nothing frightens her more than having nothing and nobody. that fear, deep-seated and embedded into her very being, is less about being lonely, and more about the belief that she isn’t worth staying around for.
that nobody could have the patience or care to be friends with someone as unstable, as unconventional as her. the thought that somebody could love her is near unimaginable.
“i’ve seen you from afar. visited your dreams, if only as a window into your life,” she explains. “i know, it must sound terrible. how selfish of me! but you must understand, it was an indulgence. i did not intend for it to become real, as much as i wanted it to- i did not place myself on that path, and i did not throw myself off of that carriage.”
“all of this is mere coincidence, then?”
“yes. coincidence,” jinx says. her voice is growing more desperate by the second, her head tilting. her eyes growing larger, a silent plea for mercy on her poor soul- if she even has one, you now question. “if you wish me to leave, i will. but please tell me gently, and please know that i do care. truly.”
“don’t go.” is your immediate response.
the woman’s eyes widen.
this time, you squeeze her hands in response, the shock of the blood wearing off.
you remember reading about the supernatural as a small child. tucked away against the bay window, you would lay and read about ghosts and goblins of all kinds. vampires, though, blood-sucking monsters with hearts of steel and souls chained by dread, frightened you the most.
you recognize that the blood soaking jinx’s face and night dress must be yours.
the puncture wounds you’ve grown close to, you realize now, are the same distance apart as her two canines.
instead of fright, though, you feel pity, you feel sympathy.
compassion.
slowly, one of your hands cups the woman’s cheek, and she melts into it.
“i will not leave you alone,” your voice is hushed, rivaling only the wind.
jinx lets out a heavy sigh, turning to press a kiss into your palm. she looks back at you, then, with possibly the warmest gaze you’ve ever seen in a person. like she’s looking at a greek statue, or the person dearest to her.
“jinx,” you start. “have you ever been in love?”
“i have not. i never shall, unless it should be with you.”
“no. repeat after me. puis-je vous demander..”
“puis-je vous demander,” you repeat, though the rhythm isn’t the same. your french sounds a bit more choppy than jinx’s- like an automaton.
“say it quicker. more confidence. nobody is looking for mistakes,” she says.
the two of you have continued the same routine, walking during overcast days and sitting on a stone bench for your regular french lessons. today, jinx’s focus is on essentials for travel and business. despite you telling her that because you aren’t a working woman like she is was, you won’t need this, the woman insisted.
“as your friend,” she assured you- and somehow, that word made your stomach turn- “i must make sure you’re prepared for whatever might come your way. better to be prepared, yes?”
you clear your throat, remembering the advice she’s given you: more confident. quicker.
“puis-je vous demander..” you start, and she nods, silently encouraging you to continue. “puis-je vous demander comment vous rendre au.. Centre-ville?”
“yes!”
jinx claps her hands together loudly, with no regard for her volume. you descend into a fit of steady laughter as she wiggles around in her seat.
neither of you have talked about what happened the other night.
you feel it would be uncouth to bring it up. maybe jinx doesn’t want to talk about it, and that’s why she hasn’t brought it up. maybe she’s trying to protect you, and your feelings.
all you know for certain is that since that night, you haven’t woken up with a soreness on the side of your throat. the skin has been completely spot-free, and there’s been no dizziness or confusion.
“jinx,” you murmur, pressing your lips together. “why are you teaching me all of this?”
“i told you,” she says, raising a dark brow and smiling. as if she thinks you’ve said something funny.
“no. french.”
“because you said your governess was not interested in teaching you,” she states, matter-of-fact. to jinx, this all must be incredibly obvious.
“but why do you think it would be valuable to me?”
“because it is a good skill to have, speaking multiple languages.”
“in whose eyes?” you sigh. you’re not angry, and you aren’t upset- you don’t know what you are.
confused. puzzled. that’s it.
as to why jinx has become such a close friend of yours, and insists on treating you like she might a lover- likely knowing that you feel for her like you would a lover, as well. but she acts coy, she acts as if this is all part of a normal dynamic.
she should never be in love with anyone, unless it is you- but is it you?
“should i become a teacher one day? or will it be impressive when i marry-”
you’re cut off by jinx’s cold hand clamping over your mouth.
any of the friendly warmth she had just a second ago is washed away. her eyes are set, boring into yours, her brows furrowed and lips pulled into a subtle frown.
“you will not marry,” she states, voice cold and low. “just as i will not.”
all you can manage is a slow nod, with the woman’s hand still covering your mouth. truthfully, you did not want to marry to begin with- maybe you said it solely to get under her skin.
and get under her skin you did.
the desired result, though, still feels so far away, like it’s slipping through your fingers every time you look at her. you’re not sure what more you can do when your mind is screaming at you for more.
more of this.
more of jinx.
the wind howls outside with the swirling of a blizzard. the entirety of your estate has been painted white, with no reasonable hope of having any outings soon. no walks, and certainly no carriage rides- sometimes you swear you can hear the flakes hitting your windowpanes with how intense they are.
you’ve always found winter weather relaxing, though. where others may see danger and chaos, you see beauty. you spent the morning in the drawing-room reading and painting, finally moved on from the trees and advancing to a painting of snow-capped mountains.
maybe one day, you might see a scene like that with your own eyes.
after a lesson with jinx in the library, then dinner where the woman held your free hand for the whole duration, you decided it was late enough to retire.
you let your hair loose, drew a steaming bath, and changed into your linens. sleep came easily, as it seemed to recently, peaceful and blank. you did not toss or turn, only rested through the night-
with a gasp, your eyes open.
loud footsteps and heavy breathing.
you haven’t heard it since that night when you discovered jinx’s true nature. except now, the pacing isn’t happening on the other side of your wall, rather it’s happening at the end of your bed.
“jinx?” you murmur, exhaustion lacing your voice.
“dearest,” jinx whispers. “go back to sleep.”
shaking your head slowly, you sit up to focus your gaze on her frazzled figure. hair loose, skin pale and near glowing in the pitch darkness, and fangs bared.
“no, i.. what’s wrong?”
“i..” the woman sighs, smoothing her hair back as she crawls onto your bed. slowly hovering over you, her hair falling around the two of you. “please, forgive me. i’ve tried to abstain, i’m just so thirsty, and i- gods, this aching i have for you, it cannot be sated. no matter how hard i try. i have loved you from afar for years. you haunt me at every turn, with those sweet words of yours and the way you look at me. like i am not a monster, but something worthy.”
you open your mouth to say something, but jinx is quick to cut you off.
“do not torment me if you do not love me, do not lie to me. but don’t leave me, either.”
your eyes search her expression. her brows are still furrowed, and her eyes are starting a gradual shift from their usual blue to a glowing magenta- wide as if she’s bracing for a punch. like you hold her entire life in her hands, and she’s preparing for you to throw it away.
“jinx,” you whisper. “please. do you have any idea how long i have waited to hear those words in your voice? i waited, because you are my friend, and i did not say anything because i thought you might think it foolish or amusing- but i am certain. i cannot hide that.”
the woman almost gasps.
she looks into your eyes and sees no hint of deception. her hands find your shoulders, and one hovers just above the buttons on your nightgown- to which you start unbuttoning yourself.
you know what she wants. you see the faintest hint of spittle dripping down her chin as she eyes your pulse point, and you know that it’ll hurt. somehow, though, you aren’t afraid- rather you embrace the inevitable pain.
what can you do to show your devotion to jinx, if not to quite literally become her life’s blood? to let her consume part of you?
with a steady hand, she unbuttons until she’s right at the valley between your breasts. finally, she lowers herself to your neck, and you think you might feel something then- but you only feel her lips pressing against the smooth skin, trailing down until she’s at your chest.
“so beautiful,” she whispers. “all of you. and you’re allowing me to have you..”
you let out a low whine, eyelashes fluttering as she lightly nips at your chest. her hand makes a path down your waist, the dip and curve toward your hip, then underneath the hemline of your nightgown. she looks up at you once, a silent request for permission, and you immediately nod.
you have no experience with this, your limited knowledge of it comes from storybooks that left much to the imagination. seldom did your fingers creep under your own skirts, but how jinx made you ache.
the two of you should not be together like this- two young women, unaccompanied, unmarried. you know it isn’t becoming of you to do this, yet you want it more than you’ve ever wanted anything in your life.
while it may not be the most realistic thing to wish for, you have the night; and it is faithful to you.
jinx parts her lips to reveal sharp fangs that glint in the moonlight, bringing them down to a vein that runs on your chest, right above where the plush of your breast starts- right above your heart. you gasp with the sensation- it hurts, but only for a moment. after, all you feel is a continuous pressure as she drinks from you. you hear her swallow once, then twice, as her fingers creep between your thighs.
bare underneath your nightgown, jinx easily finds your wetness. warm and slick, she gently parts your folds with her middle finger, and just that leaves you breathless.
another swallow from you, then the woman finds your clit and rubs it in tight, slow circles with her finger. you give a shaky, rough moan, and she smirks against you.
“oh- that’s..”
she keeps the same steady pace, working you over expertly. part of you wonders if she’s done this before- surely, she must have- and the other part wonders how you’ve never felt anything quite this good.
she picks up the pace, rubbing your clit even faster, and your head falls back. the wet sound of squelching fills the room along with your shaky breaths and ragged moans, pulled from the depths of your chest. your head feels like it’s spinning, your vision is going fuzzy. you can’t tell if it’s from her feeding off you, or from how sweetly she’s fucking you.
either way, you’ve lost all of the careful grace and humility that’s been taught to you. your hands fly to her back, clawing at the white fabric covering her.
“jinx, so good, please-”
she laughs lowly against your skin before sinking one finger into you. you near scream.
you’re soaked. her finger goes in too easily, like you’re sucking her in. the woman thrusts it in and out of you, slowly at first while she massages your clit. she swallows one more time, before she pulls back.
a steady stream of blood drips from both puncture wounds. jinx’s tongue lavs over both of them like licking the icing off a cake, before kissing the skin as if offering a silent apology.
and finally, with your blood still coating her lips, she raises her head to kiss you. her lips meet yours like she wants to devour you- her tongue pushing past your lips, tugging your lower lip between her pointed teeth just gently enough to not draw more blood.
it’s intoxicating. addicting. you can faintly taste yourself on her lips, coppery and bitter. she gives soft moans against you as if she’s the one being pleasured. something in her delights at being the first one to give you such ecstasy. to hear your pretty moans and soak in your shrill cries, to have you body and soul.
“you taste divine,” she whispers, sinking another finger in. you give a choked cry, and the woman chuckles lowly. “do you have any idea how beautiful you sound?”
“that’s so good,” you murmur. her long fingers are able to reach spots you’ve never been able to yourself, and she giggles as she finds that spongy spot that makes you see stars- hitting it again and again. “jinx- ungh, please!”
“please what, darling?”
“i- oh,” she hits that spot, again and again, surely hard enough to bruise. you feel tension building in your lower stomach- unfamiliar, but blissful. “more, more- gods, you’re perfect..”
“a high honor, coming from you,” she teases. the woman’s fingers speed up and grow firmer. pushing you toward that ecstasy, wanting more than anything for you to tip over that edge. her lips are tugged into a sly smile, her eyes glowing bright in the dark room- bright enough to highlight the halo of crimson around her mouth. “come on, sweet girl..”
you keen, fingers clawing at the woman’s back as your back arches against her. with one more firm thrust, you shatter, mouth falling open in a scream and head tossing back.
her name falls from your lips like a prayer, over and over as your thighs quiver and your arousal coats jinx’s fingers. she chuckles against you, pressing wet, open-mouthed kisses to your neck.
“good, good girl,” she whispers. “you’re so perfect..”
you whine weakly as you come down from your high, chest heaving. the woman’s tongue darts out to lick at your neck before she pulls back, placing a light kiss to your jawline.
your limbs feel like jello, every nerve ending feels like it’s been set alight. yet you have it in you to wrap your arms around jinx’s waist.
with a smirk, she raises her fingers to her lips and swirls her tongue around the digits, groaning as she cleans off your arousal- and you gasp, as if scandalized.
“jinx!”
“what?” she giggles. “of all of this, that’s what’s gotten to you?”
you groan, rolling your eyes, but the woman only laughs and pinches your hip. she starts working at the rest of the buttons of your nightgown, properly undressing you, and her jaw near drops when she finally sees you bare.
laid out underneath her like a feast- an offering that she’s all too eager to receive and ravish.
reverently, the woman runs her hands along your sides, over your breasts, brushing your hardening nipples and feeling something in her chest flutter when you faintly moan with the touch.
it’s perfect, yet something isn’t right- you grab one of jinx’s wrists, abruptly stopping her. she looks down at you as if she’s been burned.
“did i do something? you-”
“no,” you whisper. slowly, you move your hands to the collar of her own nightgown. “just.. may i see you too? please?”
jinx lets out a sigh, nodding firmly. with unsure motions, you unbutton the white cotton, watching as it falls open to reveal her slim, toned body- petite, perky breasts, lean muscle on her arms and thighs, soft curves, a bush of blue between her thighs that matches the hair on her head.
she has various scars in various places. some larger than others, some in close proximity.
she’s the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen.
as the fabric falls from her body, you sit up a little to admire her more. your lips plant soft kisses to her jawline, her neck, her breasts- but quickly enough, they pick up in intensity. soon enough you’re leaving open-mouthed kisses to her neck, down to her tits, while your hands run down her waist and land on her rear. despite herself, the woman gasps.
your lips find one of her nipples, placing a little kiss to it before your tongue darts out. you pray that your inexperience isn’t showing- though if jinx’s reactions are anything to go by, you think you’re doing a fine job.
the hot muscle swirls around her nipple once, then twice, before your lips form a seal and you start to suck. jinx lets out a broken moan, her head falling back.
“oh- gods, darling, ‘m sensitive there-”
you don’t let up. in response, your free hand kneads her other breast while your thumb runs over the nipple, rubbing in tight circles as jinx moans. lewd little noises coming from her, the rasp in her voice ever so evident, you feel heat pooling between your thighs yet again.
all you want to do in this moment is make her feel good.
the rest of the world be damned- no matter if she’s inhuman, a bloodsucking beast- you love her, and you know that she loves you in return.
her hand flies to the back of your head, not pushing you, but holding you there. you only suckle harder, starting to pinch and twist her other nipple between your finger and thumb. jinx lets out a high squeal, and you hum against her.
“fuck- oh,” she groans, gently pulling you from her tit. you look up at her with wide eyes, mouth agape in confusion from the loss. “i know, i know. but i have something much better in mind.”
you only stare at her, almost dumbly. the woman crawls between your knees and slowly slots herself between them, lining up your pussies and holding eye contact.
“do you trust me?”
“you know i do,” you nod.
jinx hums her approval, the smile returning to her lips. one of her cold hands braces your hip, before she lowers herself onto you. the second your pussies touch, both of you gasp. heat against heat, slick against slick.
“love-”
“shh,” she whispers. the woman meets you for a brief kiss, then gives a little swivel of her hips to test the waters. “i know what i’m doing. it’ll feel incredible- be patient.”
you nod, letting out little whines as she moves her hips. that first catch of your clits draws a shaky moan from you, then they meet again, and again, and again. you brace yourself on your elbows as jinx starts humping against you, so wet she barely has to move.
“ungh- you feel so good,” jinx groans, and you whimper.
“you’re so.. ah! so wet, so perfect,” you murmur. “feels so good..”
as if on instinct, you start grinding right back against her- moving your hips in slow circles, crying out each time your clit catches hers. you’re so close you’re sharing breath, a thin sheen of sweat coats both of your foreheads. the storm outside is completely forgotten in the warmth she offers.
one of your arms loosely drapes around her neck to keep her close. a piece of her fringe sticks to her forehead as she pants, humping against you like a mutt- letting out broken little moans.
with each drag of her drenched cunt against yours, you feel yourself climbing higher. already sensitive from your last orgasm, you feel like your mind is clouded- your thoughts blurry, your ears feel as if they’re stuffed with cotton.
the cotton dissolves long enough for you to hear jinx crying out your name, praising you through her pleasure. you grab at one of her tits, clumsily rolling her nipple between your fingers- and she surges forward to claim your lips in another kiss. coppery aftertaste still there, your tongue swirls with hers, your teeth scrape, you swallow her moans like they’re a rare delicacy.
“that’s it- right there, right there, don’t you dare stop-”
you don’t for a second. you drag your pussy against hers, clits kissing- your back arching like a bowstring each time they catch.
is this what it feels like to make love? to have your maidenhood shattered?
you could grow addicted to this feeling. maybe you already are.
jinx’s fingernails dig into your hips, undoubtedly leaving little crescent-moon indents.
“ngh, jinx..” you knead at her breast, starting to leave messy kisses over her sharp jawline and freckled cheeks. “please, i’m almost there..”
you guess by the way her abs tense and her hips go to an almost animalistic pace that she’s right there with you, and the woman nods rapidly. she chokes a moan, pressing even firmer against you somehow- so close you think the two of you might merge into one.
it isn’t mean or harsh, just intentional. like she’s putting her mark on you. the most surefire way of claiming you as hers, and hers only.
“me too,” she breathes out. her head falls onto your shoulder, hot breath fanning over your skin. “together, love, hmmph-”
you nod rapidly. loud squelching noises echo through the room along with your cries, as you feel yourself getting closer, jinx’s dark brows knitted together in ecstasy.
one more swivel of your hips, and you break. your mouth falls open in a silent scream, and jinx follows closely behind, her back arching against you as she cries out your name. her arousal squirts over your pussy, your inner thighs, your stomach, signing your skin in the filthiest font.
her thighs are shaking madly. her fangs glinting in the moonlight as she cries, eyes squeezing shut.
you’re beyond yourself. jinx is panting, her voice broken and hips stuttering as you both ride out your high. in all of your dreams, the mystery woman you now can call jinx was breathtaking, yet seeing her in reality, so debauched, is unlike anything she could’ve showed you through a dream.
“gods, jinx, that-”
“mhm,” she groans. “so perfect.. and all mine, yes?”
“yes,” is your immediate answer. you’ve never been more sure of anything in your life. “all yours..”
this woman- this perfect stranger with a rare beauty and sharp tongue- you want to be bound to her in your entirety for as long as you live.
with a smile and a quick peck to your lips, she slowly draws herself from between your legs. you let out a little whine at the loss of contact, earning a soft chuckle from the woman. she strolls over to your linen closet on shaky legs, stumbling a little near your dresser, and taking a washcloth.
the mattress dips under her weight as jinx crawls back in front of you, her hands- somehow still frigid- gently parting your thighs so she can wipe them clean. she gently cleans her slick off of you, peppering your stomach with soft kisses. the puncture wound on your chest has stopped bleeding, yet the sight of it makes jinx gleam inside.
she did that.
you’re wearing proof of your shared desire.
“are you alright, beautiful?” she hums, watching as you nod. “i was not too rough?”
“no,” you murmur. “you.. you were perfect. janna, is that what it feels like?”
that makes jinx giggle, and she nods. she tosses the washcloth aside, landing somewhere on the floor, before laying beside you. she opens her arms as a silent invitation, which you immediately accept, curling into her side. skin to skin, she’s warmer than usual, skin calloused yet soft simultaneously. you lay your head on her chest, directly over where her heart would be, yet you hear no pulse.
“yes, it is,” she whispers, pressing a kiss into your hair. “i would be delighted to show you much, much more. as long as i’m allowed my fill.”
“naturally,” you say.
she hums. your head burrows into the crook of her neck as she draws your comforter up to cover you both, and you let your eyes flutter closed. sleep seems more appealing by the second, yet you want to relish every moment with your lover.
you thank janna that your father’s quarters are on the other side of the hallway, and that you have no neighbors nearby. the night belongs to you and jinx only.
your lips brush lazy, tired kisses to jinx’s neck, trying to portray all of your unspoken feelings. all of the affection you have for her, you couldn’t verbalize it if you tried- you are no poet or lyricist. but you are a girl who can offer love, and that’s all jinx wants.
“go back to sleep,” jinx whispers. “i will not leave your side, i promise.”
“mm..”
you let out a heavy sigh, your arms winding around jinx’s slim waist as you burrow further into her. your body slowly succumbs to slumber, peaceful against the backdrop of the pale moon and blizzard.
ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 full fic to . . . having a homoerotic friendship with Jinx
pairing: Jinx x fem!reader, modern au.
# cw. homoerotic friends to ???, soft dom!Jinx x power bottom!reader, bratty!Jinx x softer!reader, codependency, intoxication, double-ended dildo, mutual masturbation, size kink/size queen!Jinx, corruption kink, light degradation + praise, obedience kink-ish, overstimulation, squirting, Jinx gets too greedy, aftercare-ish, smut with plot. mdni .ᐟ.ᐟ
# word count. 7k
ᯓ ☘︎ lucky speaks: this got a bit out of hand, i was aiming for 3k words </3 kinda rushed ending! half proofread. this one goes out to the anon who suggested that Jinx is selfish with her pleasure :3
the thing about Jinx and you is that your friendship isn't normal—not by any sane standard, metric, or rulebook ever written. not when you've already burned through every normal boundary two so-called "roommates" should have.
you circle each other with a heat that polite people would call “chemistry” and honest people would call “foreplay.” you're touchy in that way girls with repressed desires often are—careless, intimate, blisteringly casual. Jinx pads around the apartment half-naked: tank top sliding off one shoulder, little shorts that could qualify as underwear, and you don't even blink anymore. your eyes might flick once—traitors—but you pretend it's casual. you change shirts in front of her, and she doesn't look away. she just pretends—badly—that she's only admiring your bra choice or collarbone or whatever flimsy excuse she can muster that day.
you share baths like it's a water bill strategy, sitting knee-to-knee in a porcelain tub too small for one person, let alone two grown women pretending not to notice how often your calves slide over each other. like shaving each other's legs is some sort of sisterly bonding activity.
she smacks your ass when she needs attention—no warning, palm heavy, echoing in the hallway—and you retaliate with a hit so hard her thigh tattoo jiggles. she calls you a slut, you call her a whore; and somehow, it lands sweeter than any "good morning" or "i love you" you don't dare say out loud ever could.
it's absurd, borderline perverted, and deeply codependent—but it's working for you. this is affection, apparently. it keeps you both fed in a way normalcy never could. and for the most part, you get away with it; neither of you acknowledges the heat simmering quietly under every touch, nor the way your shared baths grow longer, slower, full of casual nudity that doesn't feel casual at all once the steam starts clinging to the walls like a witness.
your friends pull you aside and ask how you “put up with her.” their tone always shifts—curious, confused, a little nosy—because they’ve seen the way she crowds you in doorways, the way you adjust her necklace for her, the way she tugs you onto her lap at parties half-joking, half-not. they ask why she bites your shoulder when she’s bored. they ask why you let her.
Jinx gets questions, too. people ask if you’re “a thing.” she laughs like the idea is ridiculous, even though she never denies it outright. she just shrugs and says, “we’re close,” which is a lie lacking even the respect of effort.
according to everyone else, you’re either fucking, denying that you’re fucking, or about to start fucking any second now.
"you ever think that if we were straight, people wouldn't be so obsessed with whether or not we're sleeping together?" you asked once, lost in thought, watching her take a rather ambitious hit from her bong.
"oh, we'd fuck if we were straight," she replied, voice hoarse as she coughed through smoke. "just less cutely.”
"we're not cute."
"we're fucking adorable."
and that was that. she said it like it was the simplest fact in the world. somehow, that ended the conversation—though it answered absolutely nothing.
your degeneration begins, as most scientific breakthroughs do, with online rabbit holes and questionable sobriety.
you're cross-faded, dangerous in that specific way only two girls who know each other's schedules, traumas, and bra sizes can be. you're idly stroking the ends of her hair, wearing nothing but panties and an oversized shirt you definitely stole from her laundry pile. she's wearing a pair of soft shorts and no bra, nipples visible through the fabric of her crop top and absolutely not a problem for anyone involved. you're both flushed, stupid and pliable from mixing THC and cheap sangria. you end up on your stomachs without even meaning to, slowly sliding off the couch like wax slipping off a candle, until you're sprawled on the floor in front of Jinx's laptop. it feels juvenile, like a middle school sleepover where you're googling things your parents would have killed you for.
except you're adults, and this is much, much worse.
the search history starts tame: "worst tattoos ever," "can you microdose nutmeg," and a few subreddits you'll regret opening. but the real descent begins when Jinx opens pornhub like she's pulling up a recipe for banana bread.
the carpet is soft beneath you, shoulders touching, legs kicking behind you in lazy little motions, mirroring each other's rhythm like a pair of bonded siamese cats and betraying your excitement. she clicks on the first video she sees, and something softcore loads: two girls on a bed, all sighs and colorful lighting but nothing explicit yet. barely porn by internet standards, really, but you both giggle into your hands anyway, like two corrupted schoolgirls sneaking "girls kissing" on the family computer.
and then it devolves—beautifully. somewhere between the second and third video, you morph into the most insufferable pair of sex critics the world has ever spawned.
"no lube? rookie move."
"her nails are way too long for this. she's gonna core her like a fucking apple."
"he needs to shut up. and shave his ass."
"mute him. immediately."
"no one needs a close-up like that. seriously! nobody needs a panoramic shot of swinging balls."
you're choking on laughter, bumping into each other every time one of you shakes too hard. at some point, Jinx's chin hooks over your shoulder, her breath warm against your skin as she steadies herself on you. your foot hooks behind her ankle in response, thoughtless and intimate.
somewhere in the haze of poor lighting, bad acting, and fake orgasms, you lose track of how many videos you've critiqued. obviously neither of you is going to admit that you went from mocking the performers to actually watching—that would be healthy. you're definitely not giggling because the girl's face looks really pretty when she moans. you're definitely not pressing your thighs together because the rhythm is doing something inconveniently effective. you're definitely not shifting your hips against the carpet with a little too much intention, searching for a hint of friction.
this is fun. this is platonic. this is just two friends doing dumb shit on a friday night.
sure.
you're pretending, because that's what you're best at.
but pretending doesn't stand a chance against the algorithm, because a toy appears in the next video—a cute-looking rabbit vibrator—and Jinx perks up like a meerkat spotting danger on the horizon.
"woah, pause," she blurts, grabbing your wrist and dragging the laptop closer. "zoom in. no, go back—there!" her manicured finger taps against the screen with the kind of excitement that has historically led you both into terribly wonderful decisions. "that one actually seems fun. how much do you think it is?"
"you're joking."
she isn't. you know she isn't—her pupils are too big, her voice too soft, her interest too real. and that's the exact moment everything starts going downhill in high definition, because of course you google the brand and manage to click yourselves straight into an adult store homepage overflowing with silicone just to satiate her needs.
suddenly, the screen becomes an erotic fever dream with flashing neon banners and lube bottles sorted by flavor. the categories bloom across the header in bold fonts:
"what the fuck," you whisper to yourself, mildly horrified.
"what the fuck," she echoes, but with the delighted awe of a kid in a candy store. she's already scrolling like the investigator she pretends to be, nodding to herself. "ooh—gift cards! makes christmas shopping easier," she chirps.
you inhale sharply, like someone witnessing a car crash you cannot look away from, when you spot a section titled "UNUSUAL FRIENDS," featuring alien dicks and jelly-like appendages with suction cups—products that look less like sex toys and more like sci-fi movie props.
"Jinx, holy fuck. why are there so many ridges?" you gasp, jabbing a finger at a chartreuse tentacle with a price tag so high it should come with dinner and aftercare. you bury your face in the carpet, groaning into the fibers.
"there are too many ridges," she agrees solemnly, rubbing circles into your back like that might help.
you scroll further into the best-sellers: Jinx hums approvingly as glass plugs roll into view, then lets out a low whistle at a sleek, vibrating wand she was not-so-secretly considering for herself two weeks ago.
"you were eyeing that one," you point out, unable to hide the amused glint in your eyes.
"yeah," she admits, shameless, "but the shipping sucked."
then you hit the glitter section—sparkling dildos promising a "magical experience," as if the fairy godmother manufactures fake cocks on the side.
"no one's hole is that ambitious," you mutter.
she doesn't even miss a beat. "speak for yourself."
you smack her arm, she smacks your ass, and balance is restored to the universe.
fifteen minutes pass in a blur of silicone, sizing guides, and color options. you get distracted comparing thicknesses, she gets lost comparing vibration patterns; you both get derailed by something labeled "the diplomat."
"i refuse to understand who this is for."
"diplomats, obviously," she deadpans, scrolling away before you have to think about it too hard. she flattens her palm on the carpet, turning to you like she's about to make an announcement. "okay. we pick something just for ourselves, nothing weird. self-care, right?"
"right," you nod, trying not to visibly swallow your own heartbeat. "because we're mature."
you scroll at a cautious pace, cursor hovering over something gentle, pastel, subtle—curved just right, designed for comfort, pretty in that quietly humiliating way that reveals far too much about who you are behind closed doors.
you click it curiously.
Jinx sees.
Jinx pounces.
"awww, look at you," she croons, sliding closer like she's drawn by the scent of embarrassment, "sweet little princess picking her baby dildo."
"some of us have functioning pelvic floors," you reply flatly, giving her a lazy shove. she uses the momentum to burrow in even more, chin hooking over your shoulder again, arms half-wrapped around your waist like she's claiming real estate.
"ohhh, that's how you wanna play it?" she murmurs, nosing at your skin. she's all warmth and limbs and cheap sangria breath as she laughs into your neck.
this isn't new.
this isn't strange.
this is just… Jinx. touchy on a normal day, unbearable when she's high.
"get off," you mutter, not even pretending to mean it.
your denial has no spine.
Jinx has never minded exploiting that.
"mhmm," she hums, not listening at all, already dragging the freckled bridge of her nose along your jaw. "knew you'd go for the soft one." she presses a teasing kiss just below your ear, light and obnoxiously knowing. her fingers curl around your hip, tugging you in. "i bet you like everything soft and gentle, hm?" she whispers, voice dropping into something hot and mean. another kiss, closer to your throat. she bites, gently, just because she can. "you melt for that shit. slow and nice and sweet—"
"please shut up." you roll your eyes—not because you disagree, but because she's right and you refuse to give her the satisfaction. your head tilts anyway, giving her more room.
she grins against your skin, practically purring, soaking in your reaction like it's her favorite narcotic. when she finally pulls back—just far enough to breathe, not far enough to give you proper space—she sits up and immediately selects something arrogant in size for herself, like she's got something to prove.
"you can't be serious," you whisper, almost in awe, blinking at the toy on the screen. "babe, that's a colonoscopy if you slip it in wrong."
she wiggles her eyebrows in response. "i like a challenge." and then, because she can't help herself, she dips back in and plants another kiss to the crook of your neck—mocking, adoring, filthy in intention but playful in delivery. "what? too big for you?" she asks dumbly, all mock innocence. "you picked your cute little pastel training wheels. i want this."
she knows exactly what she's doing. it's not a boast—it's a performance, a demonstration of exactly what kind of girl she is just in case you still had any doubts. she wants you to imagine it: her struggling to take it, sweating and splitting herself open on colorful silicone and still not giving up until she's overstuffed, whining into her pillow. she wants you to know she's stubborn enough, needy enough, capable. she wants the idea to stick to your brain and rot there.
"don't worry. i'll leave the delicate stuff to you," she murmurs, lips brushing along your pulse, "let me handle the heavy lifting."
"you're fucking insufferable," you groan, but your hand drifts up to her hair all the same, giving her scalp an indulging scratch that makes her melt into you with a low, pleased sound.
"and yet," she murmurs, voice smug and velvet-soft right against your ear, "you're still letting me talk shit."
and for a while, everything is pleasant, manageable—just two girls buying masturbation supplies. you browse, you debate colors and sizes and shapes like you're picking an accent pillow. between the warmth of her body pressed along your back and the slow pulse of the laptop light, you almost forget you're shopping for things meant to make you shake and moan. if the universe had mercy, it would let you stay in this small illusion.
but because curiosity is a slippery creature, it does what it always does with the two of you: mutates into depravity.
Jinx scrolls, pauses, then scrolls back up. her finger hovers over a category neither of you has acknowledged yet—intentionally avoided, even.
"you ever used a double-ended dildo?" her voice comes out too airy and casual to be anything but interest hiding under a joke.
"where the fuck did that come from?"
"we're looking at sex toys," she says with a helpless shrug, as if that explains everything. "my brain is doing its job."
"so is mine," you say dryly. "and it's telling me you're about to say something stupid."
"okay but seriously," she presses, turning onto her side to face you fully. "have you?"
"no," you answer simply, refusing to give her any foothold. "why? you need someone to practice on?"
"bitch." she pinches your thigh sharp enough to make you jerk. "i'm just saying. seems fun."
you scoff, pretending the heat isn't already pooling low while trying to play it cool. "for who?"
"for us. obviously." she scoffs, like it's the dumbest question you've ever asked.
"yeah, okay. sure. because that's casual."
"it can be casual," Jinx insists, far too confident, far too earnest for someone suggesting a shared silicone toy. "like brushing each other's hair… but sluttier."
you stare at her. she stares back, unblinking, dead serious in the most unserious way you've seen since the day she moved in with three boxes and a promise to "never bring weird shit into the apartment."
lie number one of many.
"this is the worst metaphor anyone has ever said to me."
"what? you think women in ancient greece weren't—"
"i got the message. stop talking."
she snickers, nudging your shoulder with hers like you're in on the joke instead of actively drowning in it. "hypothetically speaking," she tries again, "if we got one—"
"hypothetically."
"hypothetically," she repeats with an exaggerated nod, holding up a finger with solemn dignity that means absolutely nothing coming from her.
"uh-uh." you sigh, already exhausted. "and what color would this hypothetical… shared dick be?"
"blue," Jinx replies instantly. "as god intended."
"you just want it to match your aesthetic. pink is literally the universal dildo color."
"boob punch incoming if you keep that up."
and suddenly, the adult store homepage doesn't feel so harmless anymore. neither do the categories. neither do the toys. neither do her eyes when she peers at you and says, "we could look at them, y'know."
everything after that happens too fast, too stupid to track—a blackout made of adrenaline and shared intoxication. you're aware of flashes, maybe: her hair brushing your cheek, your hand accidentally covering hers on the trackpad. a pink option. a blue one. her saying, "that's cute," and you mumbling, "that's nicer."
time stretches, collapses, folds in on itself. you come to, like waking up from a trance, and there it is: a pink-and-blue double-ended dildo sitting in the cart. a compromise, a diplomatic solution—like it fucking matters. as if the color would change anything about the fact that you're ordering a shared dick specifically designed to be inside both of you at once. as if the soft fade from cotton candy pink to electric blue is going to matter once you're both split open on it. as if a stupid silicone hue would distract either of you from the fact that you're ready to ruin your entire, already-rotting friendship over joint penetration.
Jinx's thumb finally hovers over the checkout button. "say please."
"for what?"
"for me to buy us a shared dick. c'mon."
"Jinx, i'm not begging for—"
"you're scared."
"of what? your pussy?"
"you should be."
click.
order confirmed.
your doom is sealed, boxed, and en route.
the world doesn't explode. no alarms go off. no divine being descends to slap the laptop out of your hands—unfortunately. you just lie there, side by side, high out of your minds while the order confirmation number glows in front of you.
because now there's a dildo—three, technically—hurtling toward your apartment through the miracle of express shipping, and you both know exactly what that could mean if you weren't cowards.
it arrives exactly three days later, in a discreet brown box—plain, innocent, offensively unlabelled. the universe hands you plausible deniability on a silver platter; the postal worker, however, drops it against the door with a thud that sounds like judgment.
"special delivery," Jinx announces as she carries it in. "our friendship just got balls-deep."
you follow her into the kitchen, scrunching your nose as you peer over her shoulder. she grabs a knife and slices the tape open, peeling the cardboard flaps back.
and suddenly there's too much inside.
three toys: the two personal ones you each picked, tucked neatly in their boxes… and the main attraction. the double-ended dildo sits nestled in tissue paper, pink melting into blue with a dreamy and romantic softness that not only mocks you both, but contrasts with the thickness itself.
you both stare at your purchase, heads tilting in tandem.
definitely bigger in person.
"wow," you manage, a bit breathless already. "that's… optimistic."
"still scared of it?" she asks, annoyingly gentle.
"i just think it looks…" you mutter, gesturing vaguely, "a little too eager."
"i like it eager," she replies, with the confidence of a woman who's absolutely planning to break herself on it.
"i didn't think you'd actually—"
"you literally held my hand while i checked out," Jinx reminds you—not even smug, just factual.
you clear your throat and slide it back into the box like you're taming a snake. you both drag it into her nightstand like it weighs sixty pounds of suppressed desire and shove it inside—out of sight, not even remotely out of mind.
the next few days pass in denial. you pretend it's funny, she pretends she's not waiting. you try not to think about the thickness, or the way the silicone probably gives under pressure, or how your bodies would move against each other. she keeps picking it up at inopportune times—asking your opinion on angles, positions, storage. you argue over what lube counts as "neutral."
still, neither of you says no.
and the longer it sits untouched, the harder it becomes to pretend it was just a joke.
much harder than taking it ever would be.
everything comes to a halt on a saturday—rainy, boring, insomniac-heavy. Jinx is already high, sprawled upside down with her legs hooked over the headboard, flicking her zippo open and closed in an absentminded rhythm. her shirt has rucked up over her ribs, exposing a stretch of soft, pale stomach and the freckles scattered across her hips like sugar someone spilled just to tempt you. you're sitting cross-legged on the floor, pretending you're not staring at the curve of her waist every time she shifts.
you're not even talking about sex—just bad exes and worse sexts. how both of you have better luck getting off by yourselves. how dating is exhausting, how hookups are awkward, how lately it just feels easier to not bother.
"i haven't come with someone in, like… over a year," you admit, voice small and blunt in the low light.
"what?" she blinks at you, lighter clicking shut with finality. "babe, that's negligence."
"takes too long." you shrug, rubbing your thumb along your calf. "and i hate pretending."
she studies you, and the upside down angle does nothing to soften her expression. "you wouldn't have to pretend with me," she points out simply.
"Jinx—"
"i'm just saying!" she rolls herself upright with a lazy twist, hair messy, eyes slitted with something sharper than weed. she crawls to the edge of the bed, sitting right behind you, peering over your shoulder like she's reading your pulse. "i'm practically your best friend, right? i'd trust you to make me come. easy."
you turn your head slightly, just enough to see her in your periphery, heartbeat tripping over itself. she doesn't smile yet—just watches you, waiting for your brain to catch up.
"that's not what i—you can't just say things like that," you manage, conflicted.
"why not?" she asks softly. her voice has changed—lower, smoother, threaded with something warm enough to curl around your ribs. she shifts off the bed, landing quietly on her knees behind you. her presence wraps around you like heat, legs bracketing your hips without quite touching. her hands come to rest lightly on your shoulders, thumbs brushing slow arcs into your skin—testing, wordlessly asking. "i'm serious," she murmurs into your ear, making your skin prickle. "you hate pretending. i hate pretending. feels like an obvious solution."
oh, the irony. the staggering, ridiculous irony—pretending is all you've ever done with her. your entire friendship is a performance; touchier than friends, cleaner than lovers, stitched together with denial and long looks you both refuse to name.
and now she says she's tired of it, like you both didn't build your whole dynamic on it. you're not sure whether to laugh or scream or call her out on it.
but the hypocrisy tastes sweet coming from her mouth.
"that's not fair…"
"hey," Jinx soothes, fingers sliding from your shoulders to your upper arms, slow enough to feel intentional but not indecent just yet. "you said it yourself. it's hard with other people. too much pressure, too much bullshit."
you simply nod, small and helpless, because you can't seem to do anything else.
"but not with me," she continues, voice dripping with something unbearably coaxing and decadent. "i know you. you wouldn't have to fake a thing." she leans in, chest to your back, her breath ghosting down the side of your neck. "i could help you… if you wanted."
a beat, then another. her hands glide down your arms again, stopping just above your elbows—gentle, deliberate, grounding.
"i can do it for you," she adds, softer this time, as if she's afraid you'll spook if she pushes too hard. "you deserve someone who actually pays attention."
you swallow—too hard, too loud—but at least the sound means your throat is still working.
"i'd pay attention. i'd make it good," she murmurs, lips brushing the shell of your ear lightly. "you know i would."
"fuck," you breathe out involuntarily, and she exhales like the sound of you needing her is its own high.
"mhmm," Jinx hums, smiling into your neck. "i can do it for you." her fingers skate down your sides, slow and teasing, until her hands curve around your waist, drawing you back into her in a soft-bodied claim. "we already have the toy."
the words go off inside you like a shot. your stomach flips violently, thighs pressing together before you can stop them, and she tightens her grip on you just a fraction, just enough to tell you she liked it.
"yeah," she breathes, her teeth grazing your jaw like it's taking everything in her to hold back. "it'll just be you and me, like always." her hands slide slowly up your waist, fingertips pressing into the most sensitive spots she has no business of knowing this well. "tell me you don't want that."
you can't speak. you can barely breathe, really. your whole body is trembling now, betraying you as you lean back, practically offering yourself to her.
"or…" her voice drops into a velvety kind of whisper, like she knows what comes next, "tell me to keep going."
you strip because she does; Jinx strips because she's been waiting for the excuse. the second her shirt comes off, she looks lighter, energized. her shorts drop to the floor, and she kicks them away with ridiculous enthusiasm. her body is a map you know well: the scattered freckles on her chest, the faint scars across her thighs, marks you've noticed a hundred times but somehow feel new under this lighting.
and when she drops her panties, there's the bush—slightly darker than her hair, shaved down into a cute little heart. a blue heat-center you're not supposed to care about.
you're trying to look calm, but your skin feels too tight, every breath a little too sharp. there's nothing unfamiliar about the nudity, but this is different—this is intent, stripping for each other, stripping for sex.
you set the rules almost too quickly: ass to ass, no kissing, also known as the commandments of cowards. because it can't be too intimate, obviously; it can't look like what it actually is. it's not about you after all, right? it's about… curiosity, biology, friction.
the lube is cold as Jinx warms it between her palms, but her hands are shaking with how badly she wants this—wants you, wants this boundary erased, wants the physical proof that she was always right about the two of you. you lie on your side, already soaked, rubbing gentle circles over your clit—enough to take the edge off while keeping yourself aching. she watches openly, unblinking and pupils blown, like seeing your body react is something she's wanted for months.
"if we go ass to ass," she finally says, coating both ends of the dildo with just enough lube, like she's been practicing on fantasies of you, "then it's not, like… intimate intimate."
"you mean if we don't make eye contact while we fuck each other at the same time?"
"exactly!" she beams, almost giddy. "it's practically platonic."
your laugh breaks halfway through, dissolving into a helpless sound you don't want her to hear. you eventually end up on all fours: face down, backs turned, knees digging into the mattress, toy heavy and slick in your hands.
"okay," Jinx breathes, settling behind you, crouched and buzzing with anticipation, "on the count of three."
you nod, though your head is spinning. she's excited—genuinely, stupidly excited—because to her, this is a door she's been secretly pressing her weight against for months, waiting for the slightest give.
and tonight, you've opened it for her. this moment? this setup? this is the closest she's ever been to getting what she's wanted from you.
"one."
"two."
"three—wait!" she suddenly bursts into cackles. "are we going in together or, like… alternating? i feel like we need a traffic system."
"Jinx!" you whine,spine arching involuntarily, nearly collapsing forward. "please."
"right, right. shutting up."
liar.
you feel dizzy before it even starts. your thighs tremble as you press back slowly, guiding the blunt head in, letting it nudge you open with a faint whimper. you freeze for a split second, humiliated by your own voice. it's not instant pleasure—it's too big for that, too much. "shit," you whisper, your movements shallow and tentative.
"cute when you swear."
"you're already pushing it."
"i'm pushing it, alright."
behind you, Jinx grunts softly—a sound so hungry it tells you she's already taking more than she should, already pushing herself further than you are. you can only imagine it: pink folds dwarfed by the sheer thickness of the toy, taking inch after inch like she's starving for it, hazy-eyed. you don't have to look at her to know it.
"fuuuck, you feel that?" her voice is all grit, low and wild. "i forgot how good that is."
she hasn't; she just likes saying it out loud. she likes reminding you what kind of girl she is—soaked, sensitive, cockdrunk the second something's inside her. she wants you to hear it. she wants her own filth to rub off on you, like a sick little claim.
"this is—" she laughs under her breath, delighted and disgusting all at once, "—so fucked. even for us."
you're too busy gasping into your palm to answer, trembling as you take more. every time you try to steady yourself, another ripple of sensation knocks you off balance, punching moans out of you at the worst moments. and Jinx is eating it up. she's the first to start moving properly, grinding back slow and low, making the dildo push forward, forcing it deeper into you and bridging you both. she's loving this—the stretch, the pressure, the greedy fullness. it hits something inside her brain like a switch every time. no one else knows that, but she hopes you do—she wants you to.
you whine, hand slipping between your legs to rub fast, wet circles over your throbbing clit, walls fluttering frantically as they struggle to adjust.
"you're fucking tight, huh?" Jinx rasps, breathless as she fucks herself on it with more force that necessary, grinning through it. she's always been the impatient one, always a little greedy when it comes to sensation. she rolls her hips back harder, meaner, gasping when the stretch doubles through the toy, knowing full well that every thrust slams right back into you, bullying your g-spot over and over. she wants to push you, overwhelm you, watch you fall apart faster than her; she's enjoying your struggle even more than her own pleasure. "poor baby can't take it already? god, you're adorable."
her tone is pure corruption—soft, mocking, coaxing, loving the way your breath stutters every time she speaks.
"don't… don't say that—"
"mmh," she groans, pleased and vicious all at once. "knew it. knew you'd be like this."
"like what?" you manage, though your voice is shaking.
"like everything i imagined," she whispers. "sweet, overwhelmed. trying so hard to keep up."
you let out another broken sound, strangled and humiliating, and she shudders behind you—a full-body reaction she doesn't bother hiding.
"yeah," she pants, and you can hear the smile in her voice. "give me that. let me hear you."
you don't even notice how frantic your movements have become until the bed starts creaking with the motion, but you both keep grinding, fucked full on either end of the same dripping thing. your knees spread wider, backs bowing further and further as you keep chasing the spot that'll make your vision swim. the toy finally gives and bottoms out, leaving no room to pretend. it disappears between you and forces your pussies to press close, flushed lips parting against each other from the pressure.
Jinx registers it first and lets out a filthy little giggle, bottom lip happily caught between her teeth. "clits are kissing," she points out. "that's so fucking cute."
you choke on a moan, entire body tensing as you try to pull forward, but the dildo is buried—locking you in place, folds rubbing against hers, wet and swollen. "Jinx! just… shut the fuck up—"
"don't move!" she pants, voice high, panic and exhilaration tangled together. "don't you fucking dare—this is perfect."
"Jinx, please… fuck!”
"you feel that, right? feel how wet we are?" she rocks her hips in deliberate circles as if to emphasize her point. your juices mix, sticky and hot between your mashed folds, clits making out together with each thrust. "that's your slick on my clit. you're soaking me."
you're gone—grinding, whining, barely keeping yourself upright as your nails dig into the colorful sheets beneath you. "it's too much… s'too deep, i can't—"
"nuh-uh. you'll take it," she snaps, hips slamming back. "you'll learn to take it. right here, with me."
you try to keep the rhythm, but Jinx has no sense of moderation, no concept of pacing. you're both moving, sure, but she's the one dragging you into her tempo, like you're an accessory to her pleasure. she's bouncing a little now—short, fast thrusts that make the toy slap wetly between you, obscene in the otherwise quiet apartment. of course she's not even trying to hold back; she's not built for restraint. not when she can feel the toy tug and push with every needy grind of her hips.
it's making you lose composure faster than you want to; you need something to cling to while she's ruining you from behind so easily without even looking. you're overwhelmed, dizzy and trembling, but something about that intensity feels right, like she's pressing buttons you didn't know you had. you reach back blindly, hand fumbling for purchase until it finds her thigh, fingers digging into the soft and creamy flesh to ground yourself. her whole body jumps at the contact, driving the dildo deeper. her brain is pure static by now, near delirious, but she lives for this—you being full, stretched, used, needing her. your sounds build: moans layered, breaths stuttering, skin slapping, slick squelching.
"you sound so fucked out," she giggles, eyes wide and unfocused. "i haven't even touched you." but then she grabs for you, too—one hand gripping the soft meat of your ass, anchoring herself and driving harder. "mmph—harder! c'mon, sweet girl."
you obey before you can think, hand clawing into her hip now, yanking her back. the sound she makes when she feels you commit nearly undoes you. her eyes roll back, and your name starts falling from her lips like a mantra—over and over between high-pitched moans and sobs of pleasure. she tries to touch herself, tries to stay ahead of the sensation, and you can hear how sloppy it is. she's chasing the kind of friction that only makes things overstimulating; she twitches away from her own touch, then forces herself right back into the feeling like she refuses to slow down.
"there you go. good fucking girl," she breathes proudly, voice breaking on a whimper. "you're not—mmph—used to this, huh? bet you're loving it anyway."
she's losing to her own greed, and you're losing to the desperate need to keep up with her, to not disappoint her. you want to be the one who can keep up with the girl who never holds back.
"fuckfuckfuck—i'm right there, m'gonna come—don't stop—"
you beat her to it when your body arches, mouth opening in a silent scream, thighs clenching as your orgasm rips through you—hot and humiliating, gushing around the toy as your pussy sucks it in with each spasm. Jinx groans behind you, hips jerking back with a final slap, pressing your asses flush. she arches and clings to the headboard, face crumpled, borderline sobbing through the unforgiving release as her cunt clenches hard around the other end.
and then you hear it—a heavy, squirting sound as more wetness pools between your locked bodies, soaking the back of your thighs and darkening the sheets beneath you. "oh—fuck—oh my god—" she chokes out, half-laughing, half-crying, the sound coming out wrecked and startled, drunk on her orgasm. "i—gah—i didn't—holy shit!"
you let out a prolonged moan, grinding faintly through the aftershocks as relief floods your body like never before. your releases coat the toy, sticking between your folds in a shared mess—there's no way to tell whose slick is whose anymore. but while you're already done, already whimpering, shaking and breathless, Jinx keeps moving.
"Jinx, wait! shit—" you gasp, but the words barely come out, dissolving into a violent twitch. "m'too sensitive—"
"just a little more… please, don't pull away yet," she whines, only half-apologetic as she tightens her grip and holds you in place.
relentless. greedy. selfish.
because if she still can, she will.
her hips roll back into yours, sticky cunt smearing against yours, toy still buried so deep it squelches when she moves. you feel her clit throbbing right against yours, making you mewl faintly into the pillow, helpless.
"be good," she whimpers, almost pleadingly. "i don't even wanna come—just wanna—"
you try to bear it, to stay with her through the last of it, but your body betrays you, fucked open and raw—you're flinching, toes curled, pussy fluttering around the toy in overstimulated panic. it's the sound of your wet, ruined sob that finally cracks something open in Jinx.
she lets go, hand going slack and falling from your hip, chest heaving. you slump forward at the loss of your anchor, only dragging the toy along your sensitive walls, face buried in the sheets. she peers over her shoulder, dazed and blinking, suddenly aware of how tightly she held on, how hard she came, how much she took.
she pulls the dildo out of you first, movements gentle and careful as to not stimulate you further, before slipping it out of herself with a wet pop and tossing it aside.
"shit, i'm sorry. i didn't—i got carried away. are you—” her voice cracks, the apology tangling itself into something almost scared. "are you okay?"
you can't answer immediately; your lungs don't work yet. your entire body is shuddering as the overstimulation riots under your skin. everything feels too hot, too bright, too intense… but not bad. not wrong.
she inches closer, but not enough to crowd you—just enough that you can feel her warmth at your back, uncertain, guilty, waiting for the verdict like she expects you to flinch.
“sweetheart,” she tries again, barely audible, “talk to me. please.”
it takes a full, shaking breath before you can form any sound at all. then another breath before the sound turns into a laugh—soft, cracked, delirious. you lift your head and let out a stunned, breathless giggle that makes your shoulders shake. “Jinx,” you manage, voice wrecked beyond dignity, “holy shit.”
she blinks, startled. “that's not an answer.”
you laugh again—a messy, fucked out little sound—and flop onto your side, facing away so she doesn’t see the stupid smile stretching your lips. “i’m okay,” you pant, still trembling. “i’m… jesus. i'm okay. that was just—” you swallow, cheeks burning, “—a lot.”
Jinx exhales like she’s been underwater. for the first time since the high swallowed her, she lets her hand rest on your bare back—light, cautious, trembling with the leftover adrenaline. "you fucking scared me. i thought i overdid it."
you shake your head, still giggling weakly. "i'm just fried. need a second."
she lets out a shaky breath that sounds like relief and something more awestruck. “you sure?” she asks, softer.
you finally look back at her, eyes heavy, lips parted, expression stupidly dazed. “Jinx,” you whisper, “that was insane.”
her whole posture melts. the guilt, the panic, the tension? it all drains at once, replaced by a grin that’s half proud, half disbelieving, all Jinx. “yeah?” she murmurs, settling beside you like she’s afraid to jostle you. “yeah… it kinda was.”
she moves closer, cunt still throbbing faintly from her orgasm, lips wet and shiny from drooling just the tiniest bit in the heat of it all. she tucks her face into your neck, nose against the soft warmth of your skin, breathing you in like you're the only real thing left in the world. she's soft, completely undone in a way she usually doesn't let anyone see. your fingers trail up her spine, gentle, stroking like you're afraid she might disappear if you press too hard, heart still stuttering against your ribs.
you both know where you are—the after. the part where the rules get reassembled as if they still matter. the part where you should laugh it off and pretend it didn't mean anything.
but Jinx isn't moving. she's not making a joke. she's not hiding. she stays curled into you, hovering close, mouth brushing the line of your jaw. and when you turn your head just enough to meet her eyes, you can see the ruined look in her face—burning but tender, like she's seeing you for the first time and it's too much to handle.
her voice comes out hoarse, a whisper against your mouth when she speaks again.
"i"m gonna break the rule."
theres barely time to breathe before she does.
she kisses you like she's been waiting forever, slow and deep, lips parting with the softest sigh as her tongue slides in, tentative but smooth. you open for her instantly, hand sliding to her cheek, pulling her closer, bodies already pressed together but suddenly not close enough. you kiss like cats drink milk—long, slow licks, tongues brushing in the softest glide, breaths catching with every shifts. she whimpers into it, hips grinding just once against your thigh like she can't help herself. you moan back, licking softly into her mouth, like tasting her there is simply a continuation of everything you had already done.
and maybe this is kind of intimate.
but not like that, right?
— divider by @/cursed-carmine !!
how it feels to write smut sometimes. i physically cannot drop them in the middle of it with no context or buildup. next thing i’m posting will be bite-sized i am TIRED.
— says girl who is doing this to herself for the love of the game
notes: nsfw, explicit smut, fingering & cunnilingus, swearing, mature & sexual topics, characters are 18, y/n's height is implied to be short (5'0ft), reader is feminine! minors & men dni !!
wc: 5.4k
“You wanna hookup with someone?!”
Only 2 weeks are left of the school year. The days are longer and warmer, and now that it's technically summer the weather is no longer rainy and dreary like it had been in spring. Not that you can complain. It means that you can watch the tree buds and the flowers bloom while your seasonal depression slowly dissipates.
Right now you sit in the school cafeteria during lunchtime. It's not too often you do; the friends you have are usually all over the place and like to go out somewhere to do whatever during the lunch period. However today is one of those days where there is only three of you, and you guys just so happen to be sitting at a table smack-dab in the middle of the cafeteria.
And this gives you three a perfect view of all the different people in your school...
Fatima and Bailey, two of your best girl friends, are sat across from you with bewildered expressions. You had just told them out of the blue that you were thinking about hooking up with someone so that you can lose your virginity before graduation.
You feel embarrassed and start focusing on eating your cafeteria bought garlic fingers. But you’re pulled back into what you already unfortunately started. "Why am I surprised but also not surprised?" Fatima squints her eyes in an odd analyzing sort of way.
On the contrary, Bailey looks excited. "That is big news, Y/n! Do you know who you wanna do?" She leans closer from across the table and reaches her arms out to grab yours tightly. The girl has hooked up with so many random people, you aren’t sure why she does it or if she enjoys it as much as she says she does. But you know that if you’re going to attempt this, going to her for help would be a wise decision.
"Umm.. Well I had a few people in mind. There are a couple of guys that would be down no questions asked..."
"You sound unsure." Bailey observes.
"Um... I just— I think, maybe doing this with a girl would be better.. or nicer..." You whisper, looking around to be sure no one is listening. Fatima looks up from her phone with an eyebrow raised.
"That's probably gonna be way harder to figure out. Girls are picky, they know what they want and they'll make sure they get it. Especially, when looking for a hookup." Fatima explains. You get the feeling that she's just talking about herself. "Plus, there's like barely any girls in this school who regularly hookup."
Bailey turns to her. "Well they don't have to be someone who does regularly. As long as they're open to them then that's all that matters." She shrugs and turns back to you and smiles. "And they have to be hot of course. Someone who knows what they're doing."
"Hm..." you hum, leaning back a bit as your gaze veers off to nowhere in particular.
You wonder what hooking up with someone would even be like. Before starting high school, you hoped that you would meet someone and finally get into your first relationship. And it's not that you think going into college or university as a virgin is bad, you just want to be able to say that you have some experience. You also really want to know what sex is truly like instead of just imagining it in your head.
At that same time, a loud laugh reverberates to your left. You turn around and see a girl with long blue hair and an obnoxiously punk-esk style standing a couple tables away from yours.
She throws a plastic bottle at a boy who's drenched in water. Him and the others there laugh, and she waves them off before walking in your and your friend's direction. You look away and squirm in your seat, hoping the girl won't approach you guys.
Your prayers were ignored though.
"Hey Jinx!" Fatima calls out warmly, Bailey smiles with a wave. Curse you and your whole friend group for being friends with literally everyone.
Jinx momentarily stops behind you to greet the two girls, "Hey Fatima. Nice top." And she's walking away again. But not before punching your shoulder, almost sending you flying against the edge of the table and breaking a couple ribs.
"Jeez." You grumble under your breath as you glare holes into Jinx's back as she walks away. Out of nowhere Fatima sits up straight and her face fills with realization.
"Holy shit. You can hook up Jinx." Your stomach drops to your ass.
"Huh?" "What?" You and Bailey say at the same time. Fatima looks at the two of you like what she said should've been obvious.
"What? She literally hooks up people all the time. With girls. She's exactly what you're looking for, don't try to convince me otherwise."
"She's an asshole to me! Are you forgetting we hate each other?" You protest.
"So what? Then the sex will be better."
Bailey slowly turns her head to look at you who's currently trying to control your breathing. For some reason the idea has your heart beating rather fast. "I heard that she had a pregnancy scare once, and never hooked up with a guy since." Bailey hushes quietly, making you gasp.
"Ew..." You grimace slightly. Jinx with a dude? Highly unlikely. Why does that thought make you a little mad?
"Pft yeah I heard that before." Fatima chuckles.
They veer onto a different topic right until the bell rings signaling the end of lunch. When you sling your bag over your shoulder Fatima goes to stand beside you. "Just think about it. Remember you can ask Mikey to help you sort it out." Her and Bailey send you reassuring smiles and the three of you go your separate ways to your respective classes.
-
A few days pass by and you are sitting in the cafeteria again. You’re on your free period right now, but you’re still rubbing your temples to ease the slowly dissipating headache from the previous math class.
You’ve been thinking about your discussion with the girls ever since it happened. And after deep thought and consideration...
Jinx sits at a table not too far from yours. A couple boys are with her and they seem to be laughing at something on one of their phone screens. Jinx is facing away from you, but you have a good view of her exposed back. Her long blue braids cascade behind and passed her shoulders and you can see the muscles jump whenever she leans farther across the table. You have also noticed that Jinx always seems to sit with her legs spread, and you realize that that happens to be a trait you like on women.
...You’re starting to believe that you might just give in.
But then Mikey comes bounding into the area all happy and gleeful. He looks around and goes to Jinx's table, talking and laughing about god knows what, then approaches another popular dude carrying a basketball.
Minutes pass until Mikey is finally walking up to your table. You swear, this dude knows everyone. He's part of the reason why you even know who anyone is, and why they know you exist.
"What's good, Y/n?" He plops himself down across from you and pulls his own phone out to place it on the table.
You shrug only giving a small smile. "I'm fine."
Mikey notices you look conflicted about something and decides to dig farther. He squints his eyes at you. "Something is on your mind. What is it, tell me?" He waves his hand beckoning you to talk to him.
You puff hair into your cheeks then blow it out. You’re not sure you should bring up the topic from before. You’re afraid he'll have something negative to say.
What if she has a girlfriend— or worse, a boyfriend that you don't know about?!?!
"I was talking to Fatima and Bailey a couple days ago about... who the right people to hook up with would be." You start. Mikey hums and nods. You just stare at him hoping he'll get the hint.
"Soo you wanna hook up with someone?" Thank god.
"Yes." You sigh. "And we came to the conclusion that—Jinx," you choke, "could be a good person. Or whatever." You pause. "Look I wanted to choose a girl instead of a guy because if I'm gonna hook up with some rando, I want it to at least be enjoyable and not super uncomfortable..." You don't want to bear the pain of having your cherry popped by some impatient horny dude.
Mikey just looks at you, seemingly processing the information and thinking about it.
"Well, with Jinx it's a 50/50. It depends on her mood. She doesn't get into details about the shit she does, but with you... Ehhh she'd probably be a bit rough." He explains. Why he knows this information, you don't wanna know.
And you guess what he meant by that is how you and Jinx aren't on the best of terms, and that if it came down to it she'd probably be tempted to strangle you to death in the middle of it or something...
"Okay.."
"I can go ask her what her type is. Find out if she likes ass or tits." He holds his hands out as if weighing two options. "Wait wait. You know how she fucks depending on her mood, but you don't know what her type is?" You say a little too loudly in the quiet cafeteria. Jinx glances behind her at your table.
Mikey shrugs his shoulders now looking like he's being accused. "Listen, I don't go askin' her what she likes and dislikes, I don't care. She tells me what she tells me on her own. Now do you want my help or nah?"
You groan and lean back, fingers clutching at the edge of the table. You think about it to yourself one last time.
You’d be shocked to find out if Jinx is actually open to hooking up with you. You yourself aren't an eye sore, many people have tried hitting you up both online and in person. But you and Jinx's relationship have always been a bit rocky seeing as you just never got along due to your differences and.. lack of tolerance. So you’re not sure if Jinx would be able to ignore that for once just to spend a little while fucking... Oh jeez.
You glance past Mikey at Jinx's figure once more and sigh. You play with the rings on your fingers, "Fine, go." You wave him off curtly. He gets up and leaves.
Mikey, please don't make this obvious. You think to yourself as you watch him casually sit himself down beside Jinx and dap her up.
You squirm in your seat and distract yourself with your phone when the two seem to fall into conversation. You doesn't expect Mikey to come back only minutes later.
"That was quick." "Yeah. So, she said she leans more towards tits but ass is good too." "Did you find out her type?" "Ehh, she didn't really say anything specific. So, I think you're good."
He gives you a thumbs up.
You breathe out a sigh. So, you guess that you’ll just make up your mind from here and find out if Jinx is game or not. You tap your long nails against the flat surface before finalizing, "Okay. I'm down."
Mikey smiles at you approvingly. "Alright~ I'll ask her at lunch."
-
The sun had gone down. The street lamps seep in through the sheers covering the windows. You sit quite still on the edge of your bed, knees pulled up to your chin as you stare down at the floor ahead of you.
Earlier that day after lunch, Mikey had found you looking like he was in an oddly good mood. Turns out Jinx said yes and now you’re to expect the girl to message you at some point.
Why? Why did Jinx agree? Could this be a set up, or a joke to her? Will Jinx meet you somewhere and just make fun of you the whole time until you leave feeling humiliated with yourself? You know Mikey would never do that to you, but Jinx...
You bite your lip, your gloss shining in the soft glow of the pink LED lights stuck to your walls. They're always able to put you in a good mood, paired with some music playing softly from your speaker. At the moment they're struggling to do so.
Right as soon as you huff and fall backwards onto your mattress, you get a notification from Snapchat. Your heart leaps and you slowly lift the screen up to your face. And what do you know, it's none other than a message from Jinx.
You tap the screen and open it...
Jinx: so me, huh?
Y/n: oh don't get so cocky.
Jinx: isn't that what u wanted??? 😹
Y/n: don't start pissing me off now.
Jinx: jeez louise nobody can joke with ya 😒
Y/n: anybody but you.
Jinx: we'll see abt that
Well... this is magnificent. This is actually happening. You’re going to fuck Jinx. Or the other way around— Both perhaps? You’re confident in yourself, you always have been. You may not have firsthand experience but you knows the basics.
Now you have to prepare yourself. At this point there's practically a week left of classes, so you’re aware this is going to happen soon. You only hopes Jinx won't be too unpredictable and give you whip lash with whatever plans she comes up with.
The when and wheres have you on edge already. You try to look at the bright side, and all you can come up with is the fact that at least Jinx isn't a stranger...
-
The car ride is deathly silent for nearly the whole time. Save for a couple of questions made in a lame attempt at small talk.
You have no idea where Jinx is taking you two. She had said a while ago that there is a couple of places that people go to hookup. You can guess you have no idea what these places are, or what they look like. Or if it's even safe or far enough out of public's eye.
You feel a need to act a certain way in hopes of not coming off too boring or unemotional. You cross you legs and rest your chin on your fist, staring out of the window and at the passing trees. Only sparing the blue haired girl a few glances. The girl in question stares straight forward, left hand clutching the steering wheel and her right arm resting on the middle storage compartment cushion.
You wonder if Jinx is high and that's why she agreed. But this had been planned for a week now. Oh how you wish you hadn't suggested the girl to your friends.
You're growing increasingly nervous and scared about how it will go. How Jinx will treat you. Or if you will embarrass yourself in front of her. It's embarrassing enough knowing that Jinx now knows that you're a fucking virgin. You can feel your dignity slowly draining like a leak while coming to terms with the fact that you're quite literally giving your virginity away to your enemy.
The only positive thing your can tell yourself is that at least she's better than a near stranger.
"What'd you tell your parents as a cover up?" Jinx's raspy voice cuts through the soft rumble of the car. Your look over at her.
"Or are you so much of a goody-goody that you told them what you're doing?" Jinx turns her head and a smirk spreads across her face as she looks you seated beside her; sitting almost poshly in a way that makes her want to roll her eyes and laugh.
You glower at her even after she's turned away. "Obviously I told them I'm hanging out with a friend. What else would I have said?" You mumble the last part as you look away to stare out of the window once more. You're expecting a retort but shockingly one doesn't come.
You've driven out of the main city and have now been driving through woodsy areas for the past almost 10 minutes. And although the nice warm sunny weather makes up for it, you're starting to get antsy.
"Are we almost there?" You mumble loud enough for Jinx to hear as you sit up in your seat. Fingers now fidgeting in your lap.
"Getting excited are you?" You hear Jinx tease. You don't even bother sparing her a glance. "Shut up, that's not what I meant." Truly, you just want to get this over with.
Jinx let's out a hum as she turns onto a rocky road. Dust wafts up past the windows and soon she pulls into a small-ish secluded parking lot behind an old building. It's shaded by large trees, and vines slither up the cracking and chipping brick building. Only slivers of sunlight manage to peak through the leafy branches above them.
If it were under different circumstances, you would quite like this spot. However you can't lie that you aren't apposed to it. In fact you're feeling kind of—
"We're here." Jinx's voice cuts through your thoughts for a second time today. You had barely noticed when the girl had stopped the car and sat there looking at you for a moment.
You stop your inspecting and slowly turn to face the other girl while you nod your head. "It's nice."
Jinx takes a deep breath and sighs, her hand still resting on the wheel as she looks forward. She looks like she's fighting to find words to say. She scrunches her face up for a moment and then it's back to neutral. You're just watching her.
All of a sudden Jinx is opening the door and closing it after she steps out. You watch her walk to the back door and open it; she leans in and fiddles with something until the back seats slide 20 or so inches backwards.
Oh. She's giving us more room...
You feel your stomach flip. You turn back around burying your face in your hands, whispering to yourself, "I can't believe I'm doing this."
You unbuckle yourself with trembling hands and let yourself out of the passengers seat to go meet the girl waiting for you. Who's now found herself a spot and began fiddling with something on the floor.
You open the door and ungracefully sit yourself down, shutting the door harder than intended.
"Careful, would ya?" Jinx sits up and frowns. "I pay for this thing." You curl your lip and roll your eyes while looking away, mumbling a half assed "sorry."
Jinx shuffles a bit and sniffles before facing you and giving her full attention. Her expression gives away that she's analyzing you. Now you feel like a freak.
"Soo, how much experience do you have?" Jinx casually asks. You open your mouth to reply but nothing comes out.
God how can people do this? And like it's nothing? How is she so chill about it?
"Um.." You shrug. "I know how to kiss." You timidly meet Jinx's eyes which were unknowingly staring right into yours.
"That's better than nothin'." The bluenette says. Her eyes rake up your body until she meets your eyes again. She scoots closer until your knees are touching and she reaches out to grab your arms; your hands previously fidgeting in your lap.
"Mind if I kiss you?" Jinx's rough teasing voice is so close to your ear. You involuntarily take a breath through your parted lips. The lips that Jinx is gazing at every few seconds before looking into your eyes.
You look down at Jinx's lips. They're shut, but still plump and soft and shining with what looks to be lip-chap. You think you can smell cherry cola. How typical.
But you really don't want to keep Jinx waiting. Only a couple of seconds have passed but it feels like it's been 5 minutes already. Your jaw clenches; eyes quickly flicker up to Jinx's making momentary eye contact before going back down to her lips and closing the gap.
Jinx is slightly taken aback but she's quick to reciprocate. Her hands move to rest on your bare thighs, fingers gently caressing the supple skin. You feel your breath catch in your throat. One of your hands timidly reach up to Jinx's toned arm, slowly gliding up her bicep until it's resting on her shoulder.
You two separate for a second to catch your breaths at the same time Jinx's sneaky hands begin sliding farther up your thighs. You let out a hot breath against Jinx's lips, who lets out a breathy chuckle and presses her lips back against yours.
Jinx's tongue slides against your bottom lip. You gladly grant her entrance and the bluenette wastes no time slipping it inside of your mouth. You didn't really lie that much when you said you knew how to kiss. You have a general idea. You only have minimal experience with it...
You tentatively stick your own tongue out to glide it against Jinx's. She responds by pressing hers harder against yours and pulling away until there's a line of saliva connecting between your lips.
The kiss then turns into a full out make out session. Jinx's hands clutch tightly at your waist, pulling you closer while you cup her face. You feel Jinx keep tugging on you and pulling you closer, and you get the signal to shuffle around a bit and swing a leg over her thighs, now straddling her.
Now this is starting to feel super intimate. And the fact that you're is doing this with Jinx... You almost can't believe it.
But you also can't complain. Because Jinx knows exactly what she's doing; her hands sneak under the hem of your shirt and glide up the smooth skin of your back, making you involuntarily arch into her while goosebumps rise across the expanse of your back. Before gliding all the way down until her hands cup your ass and give a firm squeeze.
You let out an involuntary hum. Jinx pulls away to place a kiss onto your jaw, and quickly starts trailing her lips down your neck.
You let your eyes flutter shut. You try desperately to let herself relax, for you can still feel the tension in your body and you're sure Jinx can sense it too when she pulls her face away and peers up at you with a quizzical look.
"You needa relax, toots. 'Course, I can help ya with that." She starts moving you over sideways, making you momentarily confused before coming to the realization that she's trying to lay you guys down. Oh gosh.
Jinx pushes you down onto your back and maneuvers herself between your legs, her hand reaching down to wrap one around her waist. She leans down and places a deep passionate kiss onto your lips, nearly knocking the air out of you.
"Breath." Jinx murmurs and places her lips back onto your neck, right below your ear. And that sends a bolt of arousal right down to your core. You take Jinx's advice and take a deep breath, then exhale into the air that has become increasingly hotter in the tiny space.
Your hand reaches up to rest in Jinx's hair, lightly tugging on the blue strands, pulling a hum out of her. Her low voice so close to your ear uprises the sensation that your whole body is tingling and vibrating. You're only just getting started and you've already began to turn into putty under the girl's touch.
Dark marks have began to form on the supple skin of your neck thanks to Jinx. It stings just a tad, but you don't have much time to think about that because Jinx is tenderly kissing your cheek and then your lips again. However This time much more greedy than before, teeth clashing and saliva smearing over your mouths and chins.
Jinx moans softly into your mouth as she gets intoxicated by your scent, letting her hands roam your body. "Fuck, your perfume, it tastes nice." Jinx mumbles, biting your bottom lip. That makes you chuckle, "It 'tastes nice'? I reckon if you were to taste perfume it would taste pretty bad."
"Yeah well, it actually tastes pretty good." She pulls you back into a kiss, slipping her tongue into your mouth. "You taste so sweet..." She mumbles softly into the kiss.
She rests her forehead against yours for a short moment. Then pulls back and flitters her eyes across your face, taking in every feature and detail. Her hand starts to travel down your side slowly, testing the waters. Nimble fingers dance over the inside of your upper thigh; your hands fist at the back of her shirt in growing anticipation.
And finally, Jinx's fingers touch the place you had been wanting her to so badly. She presses against your clothed clit earning a short moan from you. She gives the most sexiest smile and moves downward, places a kiss below your bellybutton, then starts pulling down your skirt and panties.
You lift your hips to help, and once they're slid passed your ankles and tossed somewhere at the front seats she wastes no time kissing down your thighs.
Jinx hooks your legs over her shoulders and you hold your breath. The closer she gets the stronger the throbbing ache grows. Your eyes stay trained on her, who looks up at you for a faction of a second before licking a stripe up your folds.
There is no holding back your gasp. You're not sure what you were expecting. It felt warm and wet, but.. soft? "You taste sweet, who woulda thought?" Jinx rasps. You resist the urge to roll your eyes. You forget what she even said though once her tongue splays against your flowery folds again.
Jinx's tongue feels so good against you, working you up as she swirls her tongue around your clit. Forcing your hand to shoot down and bury in her blue hair.
Jinx peers up at you for a moment, checking in to see how your taking it, and she smirks when she sees your head thrown back and your plump lips parted as you let out huffs and soft whimpers.
This feels way better than masturbating. You assume it must be because someone else is doing it for you; you can't predict what Jinx will do next or when she'll change the pace. Or when she'll twist and hook her fingers just the right way to hit that sweet spot inside of you.
That almost makes you jolt out of your skin. That was very unexpected... then you think that maybe it actually was. You don't complain though. Not when the added sensation has you tingling from the souls of your feet to the top of your head. By this point you've pretty much stopped caring about who is actually fucking you right now.
"Oh fuck~ right there." Your hand fists in her hair, the other moving around to anchor onto anything in reach. Jinx hums into your wetness, sending the vibrations tumbling through you and bubbling your brain. She pulls away for a moment, using just her fingers to please you as she praises. "You're doing so well, babe."
That makes your skin flush and the sweat that you've been ignoring before, forms as a thin sticky sheen over your body. Your hips move with her fingers, chasing your high that has begun to form as a coil deep in your abdomen.
Your thighs tighten around Jinx's head. Even though she loves to be smothered by a girl, right now she wants all the room and access she can get. You whine when her fingers leave you to spread your legs wider again, making you lose the delicious friction you were getting. Jinx chuckles. "Patience baby, I'll get you there."
Instead of going back inside, Jinx decides to play with your clit instead. Her thumb rubs circles over the sensitive nub, perfectly lubricated by her saliva and your juices. You sigh. "F-faster please. Feels s'good." Your words are slurred, mind hazy as the pleasure pools in your core. But you need more.
And that's what Jinx gives you. As if reading your mind, she plunges back inside of you without warning and curls her fingers, causing a lewd squelch to emit from your pussy. "Oh fuck, right there! Please don't stop!"
You beg and cry, tears forming in your eyes, both hands now on Jinx's head as you push her face deeper against you. You can hardly catch your breath with the way Jinx is making you feel. Your legs are quivering and starting to feel boneless, Jinx has to hold them up a bit when they start to give out. Not that that would've been much of a problem anyway. The feeling of her strong hands gripping firmly onto your hip and thigh only fuels the coil that is so close to snapping.
"C'mon Y/n, you can do it." She mutters into your pussy, puffy folds spread wide for her as her glazed eyes go back and forth between her fingers drilling into you, and the way your head lawls back as you tremble beneath her. She could watch you for days and never get bored. You look absolutely stunning to her.
Your pathetic attempts at holding back your loud moans are pointless now. Jinx’s words have you teetering over the edge, encouraging you. The blue haired girl’s tongue dances over your clit again, and that action is what finally gets the job done. The coil low in your stomach snaps, and all you see for a few seconds is white.
You’re not even aware of how loud you get. You just know that nothing has ever felt this good in your life. It’s almost otherworldly. Your mind and body in pure bliss as Jinx fucks you through your orgasm, gummy walls pulsating around her fingers. Her mouth slurping up every drop of your sweet juices.
As you come down from your high she’s still tonging at you, cleaning you up before pulling away and placing a kiss to your inner thigh. She places a few more up your belly before she’s hovering above you again, and you now have a full view of her face.
It’s slightly comical, you can’t help but giggle when you push some of her hair away behind her ears. She’s about to kiss you when she notices and frowns.
“You got some stuff on your face.” Her cheeks, nose and chin look like they just got splashed with water. “Ah.” Jinx smiles and wipes her face with the back of her hand. Then finally she kisses you. You can taste yourself on her lips, and it’s kinda odd… Oddly arousing.
Your arms wrap around her neck, feeling yourself melt into the kiss. You want to feel her closer, resting against you. Not in a sexual way, but simply just to feel her. Damn, does this usually happen after sex?
Jinx hums and pulls away, her thumb idly rubbing circles on your side. “You took it better than I expected.” Hah, there’s the Jinx you know. You pout at her teasing smirk. “Do we really need to start something right now?”
Jinx’s low raspy laugh thrums through you when she sits up and pulls you with her. She helps you seek out your clothes, checks in on you when you when you guys get ready to leave, and the drive back to your house (which will actually be the end of your street), is comfortingly quiet.
The car pulls over to the side of the road. While you gather your things Jinx clears her throat. “All jokes aside I had fun toots.” You turn your head to look at her. She’s staring at you with a hint of a smile, her blue eyes softer than you’ve ever seen them before. You return the smile with a small nod.
“I did too.” You open the door and step out, waving at her before shutting it. You see her wave back before driving off down the street until she’s out of sight.
While you slowly walk down the sidewalk back home, you realize that this has probably changed things. You like to believe for the better.
hiiiiiiiii love your work already, super awesome and idk how you posted so much already like wow.
i was wondering if I can please request a jinx x female Kiramman reader wether it’s like head cannons or some kind of scenario like maybe they are best friends but don’t act like it like they act literal gfs and get teased by Vi, Caitlyn, and everyone around them and they do things gfs do and like do cute things for eachotheror maybe jinx makes stuff for reader and they do each others makeup or get ready together and sleep together all cuddled up and stuff i feel like that would be so adorable and they are so love struck maybe jinx accidentally confessed and then it just blossoms into a relationship.
thank you so much!
of course! thank you for the request <3
❥・summary; reader and jinx are in love with each other- everyone can see that. except for them, somehow.
❥・tags/warnings; kiramman!reader, you're gfs but not but you are, friends to lovers, fluff, oblivious!reader, oblivious!jinx, i would say homoerotic friendship but this is sfw, what do i call it, background caitvi, fluff.
❥・wc; 5.6k.
thank you for your kind words!! i took a 3 month break in 2025 but was still writing in private, when i came back i posted everything at once hahah :) i'm glad you enjoy my work!!
at first, you were hesitant when your sister brought a girl home. it wasn’t that you weren’t used to guests, such company came with the territory of being a kiramman. you haven’t known this kind of company, though, and it was nerve-wracking. what kind of impression would you make? what should you expect from this mystery girl, this vi? would she like you? is she any good for caitlyn?
you’re younger, but still worry for her. you can’t help it. the first meeting comes and goes, a dinner that clearly makes vi anxious. she’s stiff and tripping over her words while trying to speak with your parents- she manages, somehow. you introduce yourself to her, and she shakes your hand. you think the skin of her palm is the roughest you’ve ever felt.
vi comes over more and more often over the coming weeks, her presence becoming less foreign. you make friendly chatter every once in a while, and your guard comes down as you realize just how happy she makes caitlyn. you’ve never seen your sister this vibrant before. whenever vi is near, there’s a certain tranquility to her; her worries are washed away in an instant, she looks at the woman like she hung all the stars in her sky.
you could’ve lived without seeing caitlyn pinning vi to a wall outside of the library, though.
she was familiar, that was all. you didn’t start truly paying attention until the first time vi dragged her sister along- the first time you heard of her having one. evidently, their relationship wasn’t the best. nothing like the closeness you and caitlyn share. still, she intrigued you. she ate dinner with you with no regard for table manners, while vi was at least trying.
you’ve never known anyone so reckless.
so free, unapologetically themselves.
the first time she spoke to you, though, was after vi and caitlyn went off to.. wherever they would go after the formalities were over. you didn’t like to dwell on it. she was left by herself in the living room, messy eye makeup and tattered pants a sharp contrast to the pristine marble and expensive furniture. lazily tossing around the end of one of her braids, she perked up when you came into view.
“there she is,” she said, a teasing edge to her voice. you weren’t sure what to do with that. so you didn’t do anything with it.
“did they leave you here alone?”
“yeah,” jinx purses her lips. “not surprised, though. you’d have to pry vi off your sister.”
“i-” you huffed, turning your face away. the gall this girl had to speak like this, but she wasn’t wrong. “yes, agreed. do you want me to get you something to drink? would you like me to start the fireplace?”
you’re just trying to be a good host, honestly, even though it’s technically caitlyn hosting this. jinx shakes her head, though, seeing as she already had her food and refreshments for the night. she does nod toward one of the corridors, though, a lazy smirk tugging at her lips.
“fancy house,” she says.
“thank you.”
“you wanna show me around, pretty girl?”
pretty girl.
you didn’t pay any mind to the heat rising to your cheeks. you just showed her around the manor, rambling on about the history of the place. the past generations of kirammans who had lived here- not that you ever particularly cared for that history, but it was the script you stuck to when showing guests around.
in the midst of it all, you exchanged your names. jinx didn’t shake your hand, though she did tell you your name suited you.
you could tell jinx was growing bored, though. you tried to switch tactics.
talk a little more casually, and stand with your hip popped like she did. odd, but nice, you thought.
she pointed out bits she liked, and was vocal about the parts she hated. you were mentally adding to the list of words that could describe this girl: untamed, impolite, blunt, opinionated, strong-willed, sardonic.
charming, as well.
even though she goes against everything your parents raised you to be, and she’s a far cry from what’s accepted in piltover, you couldn’t help being drawn to her. a sort of magnetic pull.
the life of a high-house girl might be comfortable, but it’s also sheltered. you never had any lasting friendships. the few you did have were confined to school buildings, and you fell out of touch with those people as you got older.
this was a golden opportunity. a girl around your age who interested you, and who returned that interest.
when jinx had to leave that night, you found yourself upset at the fact she was going. you missed her when she left, and though you tried to keep it under wraps, you wanted to see her again. you started to ask caitlyn when vi would bring jinx around again, to which your sister would always say she didn’t know.
a month later, vi finally brought her back.
the whole night, you were practically attached to jinx at the hip. once all the niceties between her, caitlyn, cassandra and tobias were over, she spent the night by your side, chattering about her recent adventures. the things she told you were thrilling: building bombs, tagging walls, testing out her glitter bombs in the square.
you’ve heard things about zaun. always portrayed in such a negative light. this is what members of piltovan society should avoid, you were told- though the way jinx spoke about it, so animated and with light in her rosy eyes, you knew you weren’t told the full truth growing up. you suspect caitlyn feels the same way, dating vi.
though vi is much more mellow than jinx.
that’s okay, you thought. you can handle an adventure.
this time, when jinx had to go, you asked for her phone number. she huffed, giving you a teasing comment along the lines of, “can’t get enough of me, huh?” but gave you her phone to type your number into regardless. you saw her set your contact name as your name, but with a few blue heart emojis afterward. huh.
your first time going to jinx’s hideout, you’re not sure what to expect. it’s also your first time in zaun, which complicates things. she lent you some clothes that’d help you blend in among the masses, and told you to keep your head down.
“don’t bother anyone, don’t stare. probably best if you stay quiet, too, at least until we’re there. someone hears you talk, they’re gonna know.”
“how would they know?”
“trust me,” she huffs, like the answer is the most obvious thing in the world. “they’ll know. we have our ways.”
you didn’t push any further. just followed her instructions as you walked beside her through the winding lanes, past the neon lights and smog of the undercity. it’s just starting to get dark outside, but as you’ve heard, zaun never sleeps.
she leads you down some more narrow paths, past some teenagers fighting, which she doesn’t pay any attention to. the street lights grow dimmer, until eventually there’s no street lights, but jinx knows what she’s doing. you have to trust her, no matter how much your stomach sinks, nerves getting the best of you.
“here we are,” she says finally, stopping in front of a structure you can’t name. she leads you down, underground, then to a heavy steel door that slams behind you when you enter.
neon spray paint, dim lighting, steel platforms without railings, a tent on one platform, a little cot, with a workbench smack in the middle of the space. you weren’t sure what you expected, though it makes sense. it’s all so jinx.
“careful walkin’. can’t lose balance in here.”
“i’m getting that,” you reply. the paths aren’t that narrow, though still enough to make you scared to walk too quickly. the girl shows you her space, just like you did yours, much less formally and much faster. she explains the monkey she spray paints everywhere, shows off her collection of patchworked clothes. her mechanical engineering textbooks that she makes sure to mention were swiped from one of those ‘prissy piltie bookstores.’ you roll your eyes, but don’t interrupt.
finally, she gets to the workbench. notebooks and blueprints are messily strewn about, half-finished explosives decorating the space. she gives a little grin and exaggerated, “ta-da!”
“you built all of these?”
“with my own two hands,” she affirms. “like ‘em?”
“they’re..” you trail off, trying to find the right words. “interesting.”
“good interesting or bad interesting?”
“good interesting.”
jinx chuckles to herself, picking up one of her projects and turning it over in her hands. “i’ll take that.”
she shows you her newest contraptions and explains all of the mechanisms, as well as the upgrades she wants to make. she rattles on like all of the terms she’s using are common knowledge. for you, it goes in one ear and out the other, even though you’re listening the best you can. this is all new to you. new, and strangely exciting.
there’s a shattered mirror, a collection of perfume. that, as well as a makeup collection unceremoniously scattered in front of said mirror. your eyes linger there, and it doesn’t escape jinx’s notice.
“you like all that stuff?”
“yeah,” you murmur. “i’ve always liked your makeup.”
jinx laughs at this, genuinely laughs. a lively sound you want to hear again. though you’re not sure what was so funny about what you said.
“i just slap it on whenever i roll out of bed, but thanks.”
she pauses and purses her lips. “want me to do yours?”
you nod without thinking. a little smile comes to jinx’s face as she rolls out her chair and gestures for you to sit, which she does. she gets a few eyeshadow palettes, glitters, and lipstick tubes out, as well as a pack of unused makeup brushes. then, the girl swings one leg over your lap before sitting down.
“i’ll get a better angle this way,” she explains. your breath catches in your throat, though you try not to pay any mind. trying to think back, the last friend you had that you hung out with outside of school hours was when you were fourteen. it’s normal for friends to be this close- surely. with that, the tension releases from your shoulders and jaw.
you don’t say anything, just sit there and let jinx work.
she swipes blue across your eyelids, uses a black pencil to give you a little smudged wing on each eye. then she moves onto blush, before putting highlighter on your cheekbones, the bridge of your nose, and your cupid’s bow.
“are you almost done?”
“gettin’ there,” she says, picking up one of the lipstick tubes. surprisingly, it’s a natural shade- jinx has a good eye. it’ll compliment you. “you’re already gorgeous, just sprucing you up a little.”
“thanks,” you murmur.
“shh, don’t talk.” the girl pops open the tube and swipes on the lipstick, careful around the outer edges to get a precise shape. but she’s still jinx, and on one of the bottom corners, it’s slightly uneven. so her tongue darts out to lick her thumb so she can clean it up, eyebrows furrowed as she compares both sides.
finally, she smiles to herself, and hops off your lap.
not having the weight there feels odd. you don’t get much time to think about it before jinx is turning the chair towards her mirror, and you see your reflection several times over in the shattered glass.
you look.. weird.
weird in a good way.
it’s bold, that’s for sure- an electric blue on your eyes? you don’t think you’ve ever done that. it’s still tasteful, though. the girl managed to strike that balance.
you look good.
“well? you’re bein’ awful quiet.”
“i like it,” you say, turning your face side to side in the mirror. it’s growing on you by the second. for all of her unruliness, this looks almost like a professional did it. “you did a good job.”
“hell yeah i did.”
you can’t help giggling at that. you turn back to jinx, who’s leaning on the workbench with her arms folded over her chest and one hip popped. her eyes are fixed on your face, though they go back to the mess of makeup products scattered on the desk. she shrugs.
“pretty as a picture. you should let me do that again next time.”
you and jinx fell into a quick routine. you’d often be over her place, or her over yours. if you couldn’t be together physically, you’d be up until the early hours of the morning, giggling over gods-know-what on your phone. your sister has asked you to quiet down more than once, and you always tell her to just go back to her room. she’s all the way across the hall!
vi didn’t have to be with her to visit, either. caitlyn would answer the door, and the second she saw jinx’s face, she’d shout up the stairs that you had a visitor. before, you’d have to drag jinx to piltover kicking and screaming. now? she’s more than willing, just to see her best friend. often showing up at the door covered in soot and smelling of gunpowder, alluding to her previous activities. sometimes battered and bruised. you might’ve questioned her at first, though the longer you know her, you learn that this is normal. to be expected, even.
without fail, each time, you lead jinx back to the bathroom connected to your room and sit her down on the toilet seat. she grumbles something about not needing to be babied, but her protests are gone by the time you’re knelt in front of her with a first aid kit. already in a matching pajama set with the lights dimmed, your eyelids heavy.
“how’s it lookin’, doc?” she huffs, then hisses through her teeth when the pad comes into contact with a cut on her leg.
you purse your lips. her wounds are superficial- a few long gashes, but nothing too deep. you mutter a soft ‘sorry’ as she winces, to which jinx waves off her hand like she’s telling you not to worry about it. the bleeding has stopped by now, all that’s left to do is get the rest of her clean.
“not too bad. you have to be more careful, though,” you sigh, concern creeping into your voice. jinx huffs and smirks weakly.
“careful is boring,” she replies. the girl then catches sight of your expression, the frown on your lips and your downcast gaze, and she presses her lips into a thin line. “..i’ll try. no promises.”
the next few minutes crawl by without another word between the two of you. only your laser-sharp focus on the cuts on her arms and legs, then the micellar water you squeeze onto another cotton pad to lightly scrub her face. rubbing at soot to reveal the scatter of freckles across her face, and the dark circles she sports proudly.
“i’ll get you some clean clothes. you can use the shower,” you say, standing up and turning over your shoulder. jinx opens her mouth to say something, but you’re out of sight before she can. you return with a pile of warm, clean, new-looking clothes and a towel. probably more expensive than anything the girl has ever worn, unless you count wearing fishbones on her back.
“thanks,” she says, slowly taking the pile. you give her a soft smile, then promptly pull back the shower curtain to show her how to work the faucet. once you’re sure she has it memorized, you return to your room. when did caitlyn get here?
you near jump back when you see her. your sister doesn’t react, just tilts her head at you, hands folded in her lap. “father says you’re needed downstairs.”
“for what?”
“i’m not sure,” she says. “it sounded urgent, though.”
you let out a deep breath and smooth back your hair with one hand. you never refuse him. not because you’re afraid to, but rather because you enjoy helping him. you like feeling needed, and knowing that your help matters.
on the other hand, your friend is injured and exhausted. you’d feel terrible just leaving her.
“jinx is hurt.. i don’t want to leave her right now.”
the corners of caitlyn’s lips tug upward in a soft, almost knowing smile. she nods, slowly getting up and heading toward the door.
“alright, i’ll go this time. take care of your girlfriend, yes?”
“she’s not my-”
“oh, relax. i’m only teasing.” she gives a little chuckle before heading out, the door clicking shut behind her. you huff, crossing your arms over your chest as you fall back onto your bed. you hear the water click off.
another moment, and jinx is shuffling toward your bed in the pajamas you gave her, cobalt braids now loose. you barely register it, though you do notice just how pretty she looks like this. less put-together. less of the madwoman piltover knows, more a girl just like you. your friend.
“easy,” you murmur. sleep is starting to take you by now.
“i’m fine,” she huffs. “got room for one more?”
you nod slowly, lifting up one end of the blanket and letting her scoot close to you. the girl is laid on her side, facing away from you. she settles against the pillows rather quickly. next to you, you can hear her breathing slowly begin to even out with each passing minute.
soon, though, she whispers a small, “you awake?”
you give a little ‘mhm,’ voice laced with sleep.
“‘s a little cold in here.”
“is it?”
the girl only nods. you turn to face her, face illuminated by pale moonlight. gods, is she beautiful.
if there’s anything you’ve noticed about jinx, though, it’s that despite having body heat that can keep you warm, she’s always freezing. without thinking you open one of your arms.
“c’mere.”
the girl immediately scoots closer, settling herself against you. your arms wrap around her middle as her head nestles into the crook of your neck, warm breath tickling the skin there.
“that’s better,” she mumbles, and you give a sleepy hum of acknowledgement. you can feel the tension draining from her body by the second as her breath evens out, until eventually, she’s limp in your embrace.
you don’t think you’ve ever seen her this still. you could get used to it.
jinx loved showing you around zaun. she says she’s catching you up to speed and making sure you’re ‘cultured.’ you might’ve thought you already were, given all the books you were raised with and the accomplished people you were introduced to, but apparently not. the neon lights and smell of smoke were foreign, yet you came to welcome them over time. impromptu gatherings, games of cards, all of it became something you looked forward to.
today, jinx decided to take you to the last drop.
“my dad used to own the place,” she explains. “before.. you know.”
you know a little bit. the girl is secretive about her past in a way that made you a bit uneasy at first. over time, though, you came to recognize that it’s a defense mechanism. it’s easier to not be vulnerable and let people in, rather than opening up and risking people using that information against her. seeing the person she is, and leaving her.
the mere thought of leaving her seems ridiculous to you, though you’re still able to see it from her point of view. little by little, she gives you slivers of her past, including her late father figure. well, one of them.
you don’t know the details. you just know that a bomb was involved, that vander died in front of her sister, and that you had to console jinx spiraling. tears pooling in her eyes while she rocked herself forward and backward, muttering something about ‘it’s all my fault’ and ‘you jinxed them, you fuck-up.’ it was the first time you saw her like that, and despite not dealing with this kind of situation before, it was like your instincts took over. you took care to ground her with your voice, then place a gentle hand on her shoulder when she was coming back to herself.
you’d do it a million times over for her, no matter how scary.
you snap back to reality when jinx announces that you’re here. stood in front of a large building, you don’t have to look at the sign to know this is the spot. the stench of whiskey and sound of bustling laughter gives it away, sets the atmosphere. you give a little smile before jinx takes your hand, practically dragging you inside.
she leads you through a crowd of rowdy patrons before sitting you down at the bar, then plopping down right next to you.
“chuck’s usually here.. where’d he go?”
you don’t know who that is, or if she’s even talking to you. the girl cranes her head to look behind the bar, before finally spotting a tall figure rinsing out glasses. she makes a show of wildly waving her hands and shouting after him until he turns over his shoulder, and visibly deflates at the sight of jinx.
you have to stifle a laugh.
he strolls over to the counter, placing his hands down and giving a polite nod to both you and jinx. there’s a menu in front of you that neither of you look at, jinx just orders two mocktails. she’s getting you to loosen up, little by little. shake off those pesky kiramman habits. she has to meet you where you are, though, and ordering a round of shots is anything but that.
“you’re doing great, chuck,” she giggles to herself. the girl slides some bills across the table that he tentatively takes. part of you wonders what she did to make him give her that look. she shrugs like she’s read your mind, though. “gave him a couple of surprises. not my fault he’s allergic to fun!”
you roll your eyes as the drinks are passed out to you. they look a little.. odd, but good enough, a bright pink that parallels the color of your friend’s eyes. she picks up and raises her glass, turning her knees to face you.
“a toast.”
“..to what?”
jinx’s brows furrow, her expression falls. she didn’t think that far, it seems. but she lights back up within seconds, wide grin stretched across her face. “to us! to you being amazing, and to me being.. me.”
“you’re amazing yourself,” you reply, and jinx shakes her head. never modest, but somehow always shy to accept your praises. she just raises her glass higher, and you clink it against hers.
“cheers,” you say in unison, then take your drinks. you might not have expected much, but this is good.
fruity, although not too sweet, with a citrusy aftertaste. the corners of jinx’s lips tug upward as she gazes on at you, watching your demeanor gradually relax. your shoulders open up, your spine a little less perfectly aligned, while you let yourself openly laugh at her jokes. while you sway along to the music, some underground band that neither of you are familiar with but both of you can appreciate.
“you said your dad used to own this place?”
“yeah. he stood behind the counter just like old chuck is.”
you nod, taking another sip of your drink. by now, thieram is back to his usual duties, unoccupied with customers and moving about the back of the bar. jinx huffs a laugh.
“i would sit at the bar when i was a kid and watch him work. sometimes he’d tell me stories about mean customers. always told me to be nice to people working jobs like this.”
you’re not sure if you would consider terrorizing the poor new owner nice, but you suppose for jinx, it is.
“it became a kind of.. second home, i guess. sometimes i’d build bombs when i was feelin’ down, sometimes i’d come here. vander always told everyone to be nice to me and the others or he’d kick their asses.”
you snort and smile, glancing over your shoulder to survey the patrons. it’s getting close to happy hour, with various crowds forming. people playing cards and mahjong on some sides, people arm wrestling on another, rowdy chatter from all around. some people are bartering business deals.
“a second home.. this place is kinda like zaun’s hub?”
“somethin’ like that,” she shrugs. “we have a few others. it’s a big place. but yeah, i guess it’s one of our staples.”
you nod. learning about jinx’s world was strange at first, with all of its thorns and smog, but now it’s interesting. you’re finding yourself wanting to know more and more, voluntarily coming down here to visit. putting on the same clothes jinx lent you, exploring alone and familiarizing yourself with the local businesses. if anyone could tell you were a ‘piltie,’ as jinx put it, they didn’t say anything.
“can i see the others?”
“maybe. hard to say what’s open right now.”
you both finish your drinks with idle chatter, jinx filling in little details about her favorite things here. she tells you of the shows they hold here, how the drinks have remained cheap despite higher taxes and inflation (piltover’s fault, she adds). “sometimes i still go to the shows, if i really like whoever’s playin’. a lot of the bands they bring in suck, though.”
you look at the wall clock after another mocktail and notice how late it’s gotten. that’s another thing you’ve learned about jinx: she makes a few hours feel like a few minutes. no other friend has made you feel so free, like nothing else in the world matters.
“it’s getting late, they’re gonna want me back home soon.”
jinx looks at the clock as well and scoffs. “so? you’re grown.”
“i know, but they’re gonna start asking questions, i’m the youngest and-”
jinx cuts you off with a chuckle and places a finger over your lips. your eyes go wide before she says, “i get it, hon. ‘m just teasing. we’ll get you home.”
you end up being the one paying the tab, giving a few bills to thieram and throwing in few extra for his saint-like patience with jinx. this time, you reach for her hand as she leads you out, the girl squeezing it softly as the cold air of the night hits you. she starts toward the bridge, where she knows a late-night train will be coming. seeing you actually get on it will put her mind at ease, rather than spiraling about whether or not you’re safe.
you rock back and forth on your heels while waiting.
“shouldn’t be more than two minutes,” jinx says. truly, you wish you had just a little more time with her. night has fallen, a veil of blurry constellations across the vast earth and the noise of the city calmed down a little. zaun never truly sleeps, though.
“i’ve never seen you get on any of the trains,” you point out. you purse your lips, and jinx gives a little smirk.
“because i don’t.”
“why do you know the schedule, then?”
“to make things easier on you,” she states, and your expression shifts to a soft smile. you squeeze the girl’s hand once again as the train approaches, before slowly letting go. it feels almost like losing a limb. your hand is supposed to be in hers, it makes sense.
“well, i guess this is it,” you sigh, and jinx’s smirk softens to a gentle smile. she takes you into her arms, squeezing you like you’re parting forever instead of just for the next few days. your arms wrap around her waist loosely, and she sighs against your shoulder.
“i’ll see ya. text me when you’re home?”
“i will,” you promise, slowly parting from her as you take your train pass from your pocket. as it pulls to a screeching halt, though, you see your sister from the window. and vi. shit.
they both spot you as they’re stepping off onto the platform- vi makes eye contact with you and gives a knowing smile. your heart pounds against your ribcage as she approaches. caitlyn is oddly silent where she’d usually greet you- and you swear, the last time they came down here, they were scaling walls and jumping from roof to roof. vi wouldn’t take public transport off her own volition.
the woman doesn’t slow in front of you, just walks past you and says, “you better be taking good care of her.”
you don’t get a chance to reply. you don’t even know what she meant, turning it over in your mind as you step into the car and take your seat.
she thinks you’re together.
all the things you do are pretty couple-like. you’ve known that, but at the same time, you’ve always been under the guise that you’re just friends. very close friends. even if you find yourself spacing out staring at the plump curve of her lips, or counting the freckles on her face as she sleeps. laughing at jokes that aren’t even that funny, just because they’re coming from jinx.
with little experience in the way of friendships, and none in the way of relationships, you don’t have any basis for comparison.
and still, you wish you could cross that line, one way or another.
the problem is how? how would you, and how could you, when things between you and jinx are so good, even if established as platonic?
you don’t want to dwell on it, but you can’t help doing so, either. it’s growing harder and harder to suppress the feeling with time.
late at night, jinx paid you another impromptu visit. instead of coming to the door this time, she pulled the old trick of climbing up to your window and throwing rocks at it. you scoffed at her antics, asking, “what are you, sixteen?” to which she giggled.
“always wanted to try that.”
she wanted to show you a movie she watched recently and ended up loving. it’s some trashy horror, obviously low-budget and without a clear direction in terms of writing. it has an odd charm to it, though. you can see why the girl enjoys it so much. her head is laid on your shoulder, a blanket lazily draped across your laps. the only noise is the dialogue and screams from the screen, turned up loud enough that your father will probably knock at any minute to complain. jinx’s doing.
“why does everyone think we’re dating?” jinx mumbles. you shrug, and jinx groans as her head is raised. playfully elbows your side as if to scold you.
“i mean, we do couple-y stuff, i guess.. and i do like you and all that, but-”
your head near snaps over to look at her. maybe she’s talking more to herself than you, because she realizes what she’s said, and promptly stops talking. a sheepish smile forms on her face, holding eye contact with you like her life lays in your hands. silently begging you to say something.
“..toots?”
“i- oh, gods,” you breathe out. “you’re serious?”
jinx only nods, still holding that expression. you’re not sure you’ve seen her stunned before.
you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. your palms are sweating, your mind racing with a million thoughts per second. neither of you dares to move. “i like you too, you know,” you whisper. “if you mean it like i think you do.”
“i like you more than friends should like each other,” jinx answers, and your heart near leaps out of your chest. all you can think to do in that moment is close the narrow gap between you two, connecting your lips with hers.
slightly chapped and cold, but still perfect in every way. the girl melts into you, kissing you like she’s afraid you’ll break. slow and gentle at first as the movie is long forgotten. your hands find her waist, soft as it’s always been as you get lost in the feeling of each other.
it feels like coming home after a long vacation, like the first fireworks in a celebration. it’s everything you could’ve wanted and more.
“you really feel that way?” you whisper.
the girl nods, connecting your lips once more. “i wouldn’ta said it if i didn’t mean it.”
she kisses you again, and again, and again- climbing into your lap and tangling her fingers in your hair, whispering sweet nothings under her breath. it’s still hard to believe that this is real, when it feels like you’re floating on air.
but it is. jinx is real, and she returns the same affections you do. after so long of pretending, there’s no longer a need. your tongue teases at the seam of her lips and she immediately lets you in, growing more hungry by the second. it turns into a mess of teeth and tongue, clashing against each other like waves on a shore. all that you can think is more. more of this, more of jinx. you're already growing addicted.
you’ve lost all sense, until there’s a soft clicking of the doorknob and you both jump away from each other. caitlyn peers in, her lips pursed, but she sees the way you’re panting. your hair a little less pristine than usual, and the smear of jinx’s plum lipstick on your own lips.
“nevermind,” she smiles, “i’m glad you two figured it out.”
❥・summary; jinx makes an unlikely friend at a market. reader falls for her, hard- but doesn't know how to tell her. so she drops hints using the thing she's most familiar with: books.
❥・tags/warnings; yearning, friends to lovers, kinda oblivious!jinx, bookworm!reader, reader is kind of a coward, and a little stupid, (perceived) unrequited feelings, fluff.
❥・wc; 5.2k
i set out to make something cute and lighthearted and super fluffy and ended up making it yearning central. sorry about that (not really)
i'm mostly inserting books i've read into this and i mostly read classics/gothic lit so. i apologize if you're not familiar with the ones i picked :( but i don't see much of reader pining for jinx so i wanted to try my hand at writing that <3
being jinx’s friend is.. an adventure.
you and jinx met after she saw a shopkeeper in the streets of zaun trying to overcharge you for a book. she was on her way to a shipment site to guard, another boring mission. oh, well. maybe there’ll be something to blow up.
jinx usually wouldn’t intervene in other people’s situations- she minds the business that pays her. there’s almost nobody looking out for her, why should she look out for someone else?
but one principle that stands above that: she hates greed. while silco might have manipulated her into believing that what he practiced wasn’t greed, she recognizes it in others.
“i really don’t have that much,” you sighed hands slipping into your pockets to dig around. “can you take three off? please?”
“nope,” the shopkeeper shakes his head and pops the ‘p,’ expression unmoving. and from where jinx stopped in her tracks, she was seething.
she marched up beside you in quick strides, frown stretched across her face. she placed one hand on her hip, “20 shillings for that is just theft. there’s no way in hell you think that’s reasonable, do you?”
the shopkeeper scoffed and rolled his eyes. “how would you know?”
“maybe the fact it’s a million years old,” jinx gestured to the weathered spine and half-ripped-off cover, the yellowed pages. “i wouldn’t even buy that for 10.”
“it’s vintage,” he insisted.
“it’s ancient, and falling apart.”
you looked between both of them, heartbeat picking up in your chest. you knew who jinx was, who didn’t? but you’ve never seen her in person, and the impression she left on zaun was anything but of someone charitable.
why was she helping you?
“look, i can take it down to 15, but that’s the lowest i’ll go.”
“ugh, you-” jinx groaned, and snatched the book from the keeper’s hand. she immediately grabbed your wrist with her free hand and started bolting, shouting a quick “keep up!” over her shoulder. jinx was much faster than you, causing you to nearly trip over your feet several times as she pulled you into a nearby alleyway. the keeper was chasing after you, shouting something about ‘you need to pay for that,’ but she was quick to find an obscure spot.
finally, you slumped against the alley wall with bated breath, and jinx offered you the book.
“..thanks,” you breathed out. “what’d you do that for?”
“do what?”
“this. the book.”
“dunno,” the girl shrugged, lazily kicking one foot against the wall. “i just don’t like rip-offs.”
you tilted your head, as if studying her. her expression was unreadable, eyes meeting yours for a second before she looked back to some trash can. the shopkeeper ran past the alley, and you gasped, but jinx quickly shushed you.
“he’s gone. we’re fine, just gotta stay hidden for a few more minutes.”
the next several minutes were filled with awkward silence. you kept glancing to the girl- she really was nothing like how the wanted posters portrayed her. with round, magenta eyes that were rather soft in person, the subtle curve of her cheek, plump dark lips and tousled hair, she didn’t look so intimidating. she just looked like anyone else you’d pass in the lanes.
your heartbeat picked up around her for reasons you didn’t yet understand.
“we’re in the clear,” she whispered, and you peeked your head out from the edge. finally, she handed the book to you, a copy of wuthering heights, with raised eyebrows and a small grin.
“thanks again,” you said, offering a smile back. you didn’t want this interaction to end, honestly. others might be scared of her, and for good reason- you were well aware of the things she’s done. but something about her drew you in, something you couldn’t pinpoint. “do you, uh.. come around the shops often?”
jinx shrugs. “not really, i mean, i’m usually just passing through.”
“right.”
“why? you wanna see me again?”
your eyes widened, and you staggered back a little. jinx chuckled at that, pulling her phone out of her pocket and pulling up her contacts app. she handed it over to you, where you anxiously typed in your number and name, and jinx read your name out loud when she took it back. “pretty,” she remarked.
you tried not to pay attention to that comment, instead, just offered her another polite smile.
“alright, i’ll leave you to it,” she said, turning on her heel to leave. “i’ll text you sometime later.”
“okay,” you offered her a little wave, and she gave an amused huff over her shoulder.
you and jinx became friends quickly. it started with texting, and you learned that you had a lot in common- similar music taste, similar in age, and you both grew up in the lanes. how you never ran into each other in childhood, you’re not sure.
the girl showed you some of her favorite haunts, places that you’ve never seen despite living in zaun your entire life. she really does know this place like the back of her hand. graffiti sites are her favorites, as well as junkyards (when you asked, she said it’s like hitting the jackpot of old parts). your favorite that she took you to, though, was a place just outside the fissures. it had grass, actual grass, clearer skies, bodies of water that weren’t contaminated with gods-know-what, and flowers. you’re not sure the last time you’ve seen a real flower, especially one growing from the ground.
you started hanging out at her hideout, and in your apartment. she learned that you worked as a barista to get by, and would occasionally show up at the cafe just to say hello. jinx never ordered anything, saying that coffee was ‘bitter and gross,’ even though you offered her sweeter drinks free of charge. she never took them.
she also learned your love of books, which was obvious from the start. what person other than an avid reader would want a beaten-up copy of some old book, was her way of thinking. every time you came over, or you hung out, you always had a book in your bag. even if you didn’t read it while you were together, it was on hand.
“so,” jinx says, braids dangling over the edge of her cot. you’re sat next to the cot, some chick flick that you’re only half-watching playing on her tv. “what book is it today?”
you looked back at her before fishing around in your bag and pulling it out, showing the cover to her. “frankenstein. this is my fourth time reading it, actually.”
jinx lets out a whistle. “fourth time? the first three weren’t enough?”
“it’s a good book,” you chuckle.
“never read it,” she shrugs.
“i could lend you my copy if you want,” you put the book back into your bag, sitting back on your elbows. “i can annotate it, too. i mean.. even if it’s not your thing, there’s a lot of things to think about. what it means to be human, ethics in science, nature vs. nurture..”
“if you want to. but i dunno how much i’ll like it.. i’m not good with all that fancy ye olde english crap.”
“it’s not written in old english.”
“close enough,” she smiles, and that smile sends a pang to your heart. why is this happening? you’ve been fascinated by her from the beginning, and that fascination has only grown as you’ve gotten to know her.
while jinx is spontaneous and chaotic, you’re structured and a little more grounded. you’re the more introverted one, but still friendly, where jinx isn’t. your quiet demeanor contrasts with her wild ways, and it works. you balance each other out in several ways. she’s told you stories about her life, although she doesn’t like to talk about her childhood. sensitive topic, you figure. she’s told you about her history with silco, though, a very small amount about her sister (only when you asked about her family, and then she quickly changed the subject), and explained her jobs.
you learned that she’s a genius in her own right, having figured out hextech all by herself with just a few stolen notes and blueprints. jinx is unstoppable when it comes to mechanics and explosives. she doesn’t get enough credit for that, you think.
you care about her, and you admire her. yes, that’s it.
“alright, alright,” she huffs. “you finish reading it first, then i’ll give it a shot.”
those words bring a smile to your face, and you nod. it makes you excited, maybe more excited than you’re used to, but you’ve loaned books to friends before! it’s the excitement of being able to talk about it with her. sharing something you love, just like she shows all her bombs off to you.
she’s absentmindedly kicking her feet behind her, arms hanging over the bed, and something in you wishes you could hold one of her hands.
“you have to give it back in one piece,” you remark, and jinx gasps, mock-offended.
“what makes you think i wouldn’t?”
“the fact you can’t go a day without blowing something up?”
jinx groans dramatically and rolls her eyes, but nods. “i guess you have a point.. but don’t worry, toots. i won’t put a dent in your precious books, promise.”
toots? that’s a new one.
a new one that you’re undoubtedly going to think of the rest of the day.
you sped through the rest of your read so you could get it to jinx as quickly as possible. you’re already familiar with the story and can quote much of it from memory by now- but you’ve always been the type to love details. subtleties. almost every time you reread a book, you notice something you didn’t the first time. the same for the third and fourth times you read. your focus wasn’t on any of the monster’s exploits though, or shelley’s philosophies.
no part of you wanted to accept that you had feelings for jinx. yet the way they mocked you and sprung up every time she laughed or nudged your shoulder, how could you deny them? it was driving you insane, having to keep them hidden.
jinx is solitary- at least, that’s the front she puts up. the fact she’s even made a friend is impressive for her, but you know better. that all she’s wanted her entire life is to be loved, to be needed, to be worth it to somebody. you’ve only known her a short time, but she’s worth everything.
she’s kind to you, despite all of her rough edges. it might’ve taken a while to adjust to having friendly company, but she relishes in it now. growing comfortable with physical affection, usually followed by a teasing jab. each one makes you laugh, and makes you fall for the girl even more. she’s always first to comment on your pictures, calling you ‘pretty girl’ and ‘the coolest ever.’ always shows up for you when you need her, even if she’s not so used to someone leaning on her.
all that you could picture was the book in jinx’s hands- your book, something about that felt so intimate- her sharing her thoughts. asking you questions, and maybe getting tripped up over the wordage or characters.
an idea came to you.
you could express all the little things that were gnawing at your mind through annotations. is your copy already annotated? yes, but you could add to that. make hidden messages for the girl. like a footnote, or a message hidden in the margins. she’s clever, she’s bound to catch on eventually.
flipping through, highlighter in hand, you knew this would be a challenge. frankenstein is far from a romantic book, but you were prepared to work with what you had. after much careful thought and highlighting, you had something that could at least hint at your affections.
when you finally hand the book off to your friend, she gives you a little grin. some underground rock was playing over her speakers. she spins around in her chair to switch off the speaker, and start toward the platform with her makeshift bedroom.
“you’re starting it now?”
jinx nods, her brows furrowed like this is the most obvious question in the world.
the hideout is never this quiet. it’s a little unnerving, frankly, though you follow her. you always sit next to her in her cot, but this time, she lifts up one end of the blanket to you. with heat rising to your cheeks, you sit beside her and jinx lowers the blanket without words.
she doesn’t say anything as she opens it, fingers brushing over the same pages that you’ve annotated. like indirectly holding hands, and you have to internally scold yourself. what are you, ten?
in an effort to distract yourself, you pick up today’s book: madonna in a fur coat. this isn’t a reread, just one that you’ve heard countless good things about. true love and its power, alienation, loneliness. the question of, “what if?” it seems ironic that this is the one you picked up when you started falling for your friend.
your best friend, if you really think about it.
jinx’s eyes are laser-focused on the page, the way they often are on her bombs. usually, you’d be more focused on the words that nothing could distract you. now, your attention is divided between the book, and jinx’s expression. wondering if she’s enjoying it so far makes you have to reread each passage time and time again, a rarity.
you’re barely thirty pages in, and all that can be heard is the turning of pages and the faint humming of wiring outside the hideout. it’s maddening.
with a huff, you throw your book to the end of the cot and lay down on your side, facing away from jinx.
“you okay?” jinx asks, and you nod. “you sure?”
“yeah, just tired,” you sigh. thankfully, jinx takes that answer, though you’re not sure if she believes it, and turns her focus back to frankenstein.
“alright, just lemme know if that changes.”
you don’t give her a response, just a little ‘hm’ in acknowledgement. curling into yourself, you try to put the fact jinx is so close you can feel her warmth out of your mind. the sound of pages turning taunts you, but eventually lulls you to sleep.
you blink your eyes open and sit up with a groan, rubbing the sleep from your eyes. for a second you’re confused as to where you are, and then your gaze catches a torn-up curtain with ‘JINX WAZ HERE’ painted on it. right. jinx’s hideout.
slowly, you sit up to face jinx. you thought that maybe you could sleep it off, but the stab of longing returns as soon as you look at her, like a blow to the chest. she’s got her tongue poked out of her mouth in concentration. has she been reading this whole time?
“..how long was i out?”
she doesn’t meet your eyes. “i dunno.. an hour? two?”
“how far in are you?”
jinx purses her lips, “chapter 19.”
the girl’s eyes are still fixed on the words, not on you- and you’re not sure whether to smile at her interest, or pout at her indifference. you swing your legs over the side of the bed, but jinx’s hand shoots out to grab your wrist, calloused and cold.
“hey, why’d you highlight this?” the girl flips back a little to a passage, which reads,
"i confess to you, my friend, that i love you and that in my airy dreams of futurity you could be my constant friend and companion."
oh, fuck.
this was much easier to plan than follow through with. jinx was supposed to just get it, then either accept your feelings (unlikely) or reject you so you could move on (more likely). surely, she wasn’t supposed to ask you about it.
“it’s just,” you sigh, turning back to twiddle with your thumbs and finding some corner of the bedsheet to stare out. “i thought it was a nice way to express her feelings, you know?”
“seems kinda dumb next to all the other stuff you circled and highlighted.”
“maybe,” you shrug. “but it stood out to me.”
jinx finally looks at you, studying your expression like she knows that’s only a half-truth, but doesn’t press the issue further. just huffs to herself and lays back on the pillows.
“this victor guy is so stupid,” she mutters. “does he ever get over himself? ooh, is elizabeth gonna die?”
you can’t help the amused scoff that escapes you. you just point to the book. “you’ll know if you keep reading it, jinx.”
“ugh, you’re no fun,” she frowns, then replaces it with a quick and playful grin.
you think you might lose your mind.
how long has this been going on? two months? three?
how long have you been with your best friend, resting on public benches while she absentmindedly plays with your fingers, rambling on about her newest project? shouldering her burdens and listening to her past, catching her tears? sometimes crying with her?
it should be so simple, being friends with somebody. all of her successes make your heart jump, even if they’re something as small as a hex crystal not blowing up in her face. you’re her biggest cheerleader, the most reliable person she has in her life, and that’s how it should be.
you do everything a friend should, but you wish that you could do everything a girlfriend should as well.
jinx ended up loving frankenstein. victor’s need for greatness resonated with her, as did the monster’s alienation, and you shared sever conversations about it.
naturally, more books followed. you lent her madonna in a fur coat. after that, jinx complained that you were giving her too many ‘ancient’ books, so you let her borrow last night at the telegraph club and house of hunger. she liked those, as well, but never paid too much mind to the highlighted passages. or the sentences highlighted words strung together. like your own form of blackout poetry.
“genius and madness, so beautiful. knew it like the back of my hand.”
“her laugh. her eyes. perfect girl.”
you’re playing a losing game, and you know it.
the protagonist in one of your beloved books would’ve gotten over their anxiety and confessed by now, but this isn’t literature- it’s real life, and you’re dealing with very real nerves. the feeling that you couldn’t ever be what jinx needs, even as she called you ‘sweetness’ and held your hand on the way back to your apartment.
so for a while, you stop giving her any books. you still keep a book on you at all times, and it confuses jinx. you’ve worked out a routine, why did you stop?
the girl’s on your tattered couch and tossing around one of her braids. you just made dinner, and jinx tried her damndest to help. after she burned her portion, though, you gently guided her out of the kitchen and told her to find something else to do. queue jinx loading up instagram reels and playing them at max volume.
maybe you should’ve let her stay in the kitchen.
the dinner was made, regardless, and jinx complimented your skills as she always did. you tried to justify it to yourself as friendly affection- that, and the way her eyes closed in satisfaction as she took the first bite. and the way jinx threw her arms around your shoulders once she was finished, saying, “you spoil me, toots. can’t say i don’t like it, though.”
you’ve been quiet, though. more quiet than usual, and it doesn’t escape jinx’s notice. she’s been eyeing you all day, trying to figure out what could possibly be wrong, but you’re a tough puzzle to solve. not like the configurations jinx puts together. sat cross-legged on your bed, you look like you’re anywhere but here. it’s a look she’s getting more familiar with by the day.
the room is filled with silence. not the comfortable kind you’ve shared before, something more tense.
“hey, toots?”
your heart skips a beat at the nickname, but you look over at her. you don’t say anything, just wait for her to go on.
“everything okay? you’ve been a little.. spacey lately.”
“i’m alright,” you say, voice a little more far-away than you intended. you’re definitely not helping your case. “just tired, i guess. had an off week.”
“an off couple of weeks,” she remarks. then scoots closer to you, gently elbowing your side. “c’mon, you can tell me stuff. i’m not gonna laugh.”
“nothing’s wrong,” you insist, hugging your knees to your chest. your chin rests atop your knees, trying to avoid the girl’s gaze.
partly because you know it’ll be like a gut-punch seeing her concerned expression, and partly because all you want to do is grab her face and kiss her senseless.
jinx sighs. lays her head on your shoulder, and you can feel how tense she is- the urge to rest your head on hers is one you squash. this is friendly, you tell yourself. she’s worried because she’s your friend. a good friend.
jinx looks at your lips pressed together and downcast eyes, and lets out a deep sigh. sometimes, trying to get an honest, vulnerable answer out of you is harder than getting sevika to smile or seeing a shimmer shipment through to the end. she’ll have to switch gears.
“you haven’t given me a book in a while,” she says, voice turning softer. edging on pleading. “it’s just like.. you’re so distant, and i dunno what to do with that.”
you crumble at that. you feel the pressure of oncoming tears, and press your lips into a thin line as you try to blink them away. finally, your eyes meet jinx’s. the usual chaos is gone, replaced with a girl who feels like she’s losing her best (and only) friend. she reaches for your hands, loosely interlacing your fingers, and squeezes.
“you know things get loud for me, sometimes. a lotta times. is that what’s goin’ on for you?”
“something like that,” you murmur.
“i don’t want you keepin’ secrets. you can tell me stuff, toots. i’ll tell ya right now that i like those books. they’re old and all proper,” she scrunches up her nose, and you give a wet chuckle. “but they’re interesting. i like seeing what you’ve got goin’ on in your world.”
you nod slowly. your legs straighten out and you allow yourself to lean into her, finally- and it feels incredible.
jinx is always complaining about being cold, but she’s so warm. you’ve felt that heat close to you, but never touching you, and you could get addicted to the feeling.
you want to kiss all of the freckles on her face, to sing her praises and comb your fingers through those long blue tresses. you want to know all of jinx- the bits she’s proud of, the bits she’s ashamed of. the parts of her that she’s never shown to the world.
the longing you feel is torturous. letting go, though, choosing your own sanity over this infatuation- that would be even worse. just thinking about it makes you shiver.
“i’ll give you another book soon,” you promise.
“okay,” she says. “make sure it’s a really good one. make up for lost time.”
the next time you see jinx is in the middle of the lanes. you had plans to meet with her at the last drop that night, but as you were on your way to run an errand, it seemed she was, too.
you’re lost in the music playing in your headphones when jinx starts calling out your name, waving with a wide grin on her face. you set out with a pep in your step, you woke up in a good mood and didn’t think of jinx as much that morning. it takes a few tries before you finally hear her voice over your music, and you pause it to look. oh.
she’s already walking toward you.
so much for forgetting your affections.
“what brings you here at this time of day?”
you tilt your head, “it’s noon.”
“exactly! it’s so early!”
you have to stifle a laugh, but you nod toward the direction you were walking. “my fridge is kinda empty, so i was going to the farmer’s market.”
“overdue,” she comments, and you chuckle. you perk up though, trying to shake the thoughts creeping to the forefront of your mind. you take your bag off your shoulder and fish around for a little, before pulling out white nights.
dostoevsky. how melodramatic can you get?
jinx’s eyes light up as she immediately snatches it out of your hands, reading the title and flipping through the pages.
“this one’s short,” she hums, giving you a little smirk.
“short, but packs a big punch,” you reply. “you’ll like it.”
jinx gives a pointed look, as if to say we’ll see about that. she pulls out her phone to look at the time, sighs, and turns on her heel. “sevika is making me guard some post, and i’m already late, sooo..”
your lips tug upward in a small, albeit reluctant smile. you’ll see her tonight, but every minute with her feels precious.
“i won’t keep you,” you say. jinx gives a little wave over her shoulder, and disappears into the streets of zaun.
the agreed meeting time was 9, but it’s half past 10 by the time jinx comes stumbling into the bar. while you were punctual, you didn’t expect any different from her. just ordered yourself a mocktail and some cheap meal to pass the time. you only started coming here when jinx introduced you, and still only really went when she was with you, so you’re not familiar with any of the staff. you haven’t made friends with any of the regulars.
you’re tracing the rim of the glass with your finger when jinx sits next to you, panting and sweaty.
“did you run here?”
“yeah, sorry-” she wipes her forehead with the back of her hand. “i was reading- really good book, you weren’t lying- and i lost track of time.”
jinx loses track of time more often than not, and you just huff in amusement, waving her off.
“how far in did you get?”
“i finished it,” she says, grin forming for a moment. it’s gone just as quickly as it appeared. “but i wanted to ask you somethin’.”
your heartbeat picks up.
she’ll come to you about the books sometimes. discuss them. ask what you think of a certain passage. but the girl’s pink eyes are looking directly into yours, and something tells you that the story isn’t what’s on her mind. you just nod, prompting her to go ahead.
she pulls out the book from her satchel and flips to a page, a specific passage you have highlighted.
“if and when you fall in love, may you be happy with her. i don't need to wish her anything, for she'll be happy with you. may your sky always be clear, may your dear smile always be bright and happy, and may you be for ever blessed for that moment of bliss and happiness which you gave to another lonely and grateful heart. isn't such a moment sufficient for the whole of one's life?”
it feels like the air’s been sucked out of your lungs, and gods, are your palms sweating? jinx doesn’t give you a chance to say anything before she flips to another page, another passage.
“i create entire romances in my dreams.”
“why, one thanks some people for being alive at the same time with one; i thank you for having met me, for my being able to remember you all my life!”
“as i sit here next to you, it is already painful to think of the future, because there's nothing in it but a lonely, stale, useless existence.”
jinx closes the book and sets it down, resting her elbow on the counter. “i feel like you’ve been tryna tell me something,” she says, and purses her lips. “i got to thinkin’. none of the stuff you highlight is actually important, but random, and it’s like.. you’re talking to me. sometimes you don't even highlight whole sentences, just words, and you put 'em together and it's some secret, sappy message.”
you’re not sure what to say. you weren’t prepared to ever confess your feelings to her, and any words you might’ve had are gone.
“come on, sweetness. just tell me what’s wrong.” she leans closer to you, frowning, tilting her head. rolling off her tongue like it’s hard for her to say, “i worry about you, y’know.”
you’re not going to cry.
you won’t, you tell yourself.
and still, you have to take a breathe to still yourself. where you had trouble looking at her before, now you can’t tear your eyes away from jinx’s. those beautiful eyes that you could get lost in.
“i.. i’ve been trying to talk to you, yes,” you mutter, barely audible over the chatter around you. “i don’t know how to say this. i’ve had feelings for you for a long time, and.. i know i don’t have a chance. you’re my friend, and i shouldn’t feel like this, but i fell for you a while ago. and i keep falling. i don’t know how to stop.”
you don’t even realize your body and voice are trembling until jinx takes your hand, gentler than you’ve ever felt her, and takes it into your lap.
“toots, you-”
“fuck, i know. i know it’s stupid and pointless, just- just reject me so i can move on-”
you’re cut off by a finger to your lips, which is quickly replaced with jinx’s own.
you don’t move. you don’t blink.
but you melt into it instinctively, so quickly. your arms loosely wind around her shoulders, jinx’s lips moving against yours in a steady and slow rhythm. her lips are cold and a little chapped, and they’re the most wonderful thing you’ve ever felt.
her hands settle on your waist. you meet again, and again, and again, chasing that high like it’s your life’s blood. surrounded by loud music and the smell of alcohol, low lights- it’s far from a storybook, but it’s perfect regardless.
“i like you too, silly,” she whispers, then steals another kiss. “you could’ve just confessed like a normal person, instead of all this drama.”
“you know that’s not like me,” you huff. jinx snorts, but nods. cheeks flushed, lips kiss-swollen. “why didn’t you say anything?”
“because we’re friends,” she says. “i mean, it was eating me up, and i knew you probably wouldn’t like me, but i was flirtin’ with you the whole time.”
“flirting?”
“yeah, flirting,” she repeats, furrowing her brows. “you didn’t notice?”
you open your mouth to say something, and immediately close it. you’re starting to remember.
were the times jinx laid her head on your shoulder testing the waters? the pet names? her being alright with you sleeping in her bed? calling you pretty, always answering your calls?
jinx nods, like she can hear your thoughts. “yeah.”
you just give her a flustered smile, and jinx giggles. she presses another kiss to your lips, then to your cheeks, then your forehead, as your hands shakily cup her cheeks. soft.
“you’re cute. for someone so smart, you’re really fucking oblivious.”
“yeah, i’m getting that,” you mutter, and meet her for another chaste kiss. “so much for all those books.”
she playfully flicks your forehead. jinx wouldn’t have you any other way.
── marine biologist!Jinx . . . who specializes in sharks ⋆˚࿔
H E A D C A N O N S
pairing: marine biologist!Jinx x sanctuary staff!reader.
contents: fem!reader implied, shark lover!Jinx, worldbuilding, angst, mutual pining, yearning/longing, bittersweet dynamic (wanderer x anchor), long distance, arcane lore references, death & grief, shimmer exists, animal experimentation/exploitation, mentions of lethal sampling, modern au, sexual content/mature themes. MDNI .ᐟ.ᐟ
ᯓ ☘︎ lucky speaks: the research for those hcs goes crazy when you have thalassophobia. tried my best to be accurate (take that as a warning) but feel free to educate me (꩜ ‸ ꩜)
—dividers by @/cafekitsune !!
┈┈・✦ EARLY LIFE
˳·˖✮⋆˙ Powder grew up in a harbor town, where industrial ruin met gray ocean. her early years were spent behind the counter of The Last Drop, the weathered dive owned by Vander—guardian, father figure, and ex-Navy turned dock worker who took in stray kids, hired teen runaways, and fed locals on credit.
˳·˖✮⋆˙ the town itself was split in two: shoreline locals and polished tourists, and Vander made it clear where they stood. he taught her the ocean wasn’t something to fear—it was something to respect.
˳·˖✮⋆˙ her obsession with it started early, but sharks were her favorite. they weren’t the villains in her mind—they were misunderstood, sharp-edged survivors. just like them.
˳·˖✮⋆˙ when she brought Vander her tenth (poorly) drawn shark anatomy diagram, he stuck it to the bar’s corkboard with pride.
“one day, kid, you’ll be the one people come to for ocean answers.”
˳·˖✮⋆˙ she would eavesdrop on every shipwreck story at The Last Drop. still, she dreamed of “the pirate life.”
˳·˖✮⋆˙ she used to hide under tables with secondhand field guides or sneak down to the docks to sit by the water, feet dangling off the edge. Vi would joke that she’d end up shark bait. Powder would disappear for hours, climbing over shipping containers and slipping beneath dock boards to collect odd things: tangled nets, rusted knives, driftwood, and most of all—shark teeth, her most prized possession.
˳·˖✮⋆˙ she always smelled a little like seaweed and didn’t have many friends, just a few who thought she was insane in a fun way. people called her “fishbrain” and she owned it.
˳·˖✮⋆˙ Vi was the protector, the fighter; Powder was the drifter, the dreamer. and Vi always showed up when the dock boys tried to tease Powder for being a bit odd. she never really noticed—she was too busy trying to count barnacles.
˳·˖✮⋆˙ even though Powder followed Vi around like a shadow, trying to be more like her big sister, the ocean was her own thing. when they argued, Powder would sulk at the end of the dock and throw rocks into the water. Vi always found her there eventually.
˳·˖✮⋆˙ they had a secret spot under the boardwalk where they kept a stash of crackers, chalk, and flashlights. they’d pretend it was a sunken pirate base.
˳·˖✮⋆˙ Powder had a decent attendance in middle school—Vander wanted his kids to be educated. he stressed the importance of it. he helped her apply for a marine sciences summer camp. she didn’t want to go at first, having separation anxiety. Vi packed her duffel bag and practically forced her on the bus.
˳·˖✮⋆˙ that trip changed her life—she saw her first shark up close while it looked right at her through the glass and didn’t flinch. she kept telling that story for weeks.
˳·˖✮⋆˙ she taught herself how to hold her breath underwater longer than anyone else her age. she used to train in the bath, too. at the beach, she’d vanish underwater for over a minute and come back grinning, drenched, with a crab in her hand. she worried Vi to no end.
“he wanted to say hi!”
˳·˖✮⋆˙ their bedroom walls were plastered in sea animals posters, tacked up with rusted bait hooks Powder found on the beach. she pinned them between polaroids and newspaper clippings about strandings she cried over in private.
˳·˖✮⋆˙ one night, a storm rolled in earlier than expected. the kind that drowns radio signals and snaps masts like twigs. Vander had taken The Powder Keg—his beloved boat—out that afternoon, same as always. he trusted the sky too much, maybe. the coast guard never reached him in time.
˳·˖✮⋆˙ no body was ever recovered. only the boat came back—dragged ashore days later, split clean through the hull, right across Powder’s name.
˳·˖✮⋆˙ she took it as a sign, believing she has cursed him; that was the night she became Jinx.
˳·˖✮⋆˙ Vi burned out under the weight of her grief and started getting involved in things she couldn’t handle. she ended up arrested for trespassing, assault, and obstruction, leaving her little sister all alone. the town let it happen—everyone had too much to lose.
˳·˖✮⋆˙ Silco was an old friend of Vander’s. he ran a salvage operation and a “marine rescue non-profit” with very few tax records. think black market marine parts and backdoor research deals.
˳·˖✮⋆˙ after Vander’s death, he stepped in to “handle things.” he took Jinx in, said he’ll take care of the bar, too. he gave her a bunk on the boat, a dive mask that fit, and enough freedom to chase her obsession with the ocean. she idolized him for a while. she thought he got it—that the sea was lawless, and maybe they had to be, too.
˳·˖✮⋆˙ but the pirate life soured—because as she grew, so did Silco’s business. his dives turned from rescue to profit and exploitation.
“everything survives by feeding on something else. you think orcas feel bad for the seals?”
˳·˖✮⋆˙ Jinx wanted to argue… but part of her agreed. the ocean could be brutal, too honest. she saw it in every decayed whale carcass, every shipwreck overgrown with anemones, Vander. life made room where it could, even if it meant breaking something first.
˳·˖✮⋆˙ then came shimmer. it was marketed as a synthetic stimulant—originally created as a performance enhancer for deep-sea fishing crews, designed to help the body withstand pressure and cold. legal in theory, but easy to abuse in practice.
˳·˖✮⋆˙ and Silco saw potential. he began using it on marine life—partnering with illegal labs offshore, testing how it affected sharks, rays, eels… he told Jinx it was research, and that if they understood how shimmer interacted with sea creatures, they'd be able to map out something incredible—a biological revolution. if they could rewrite the apex, they could control the whole food chain.
˳·˖✮⋆˙ Jinx wanted to believe him. he’d been her tether, mentor, and the closest thing she had to a father since Vander. but a father wouldn’t do what Silco did. she watched as the animals’ behaviors warped, as their eyes clouded. she watched a juvenile reef shark she’d tagged seize and die from organ collapse in a tank with violet-lit water.
˳·˖✮⋆˙ that’s when she snapped. she didn’t scream or cry—she simply walked to Silco’s cabin in the middle of the night, stood over his maps and shimmer vials, and whispered, “i hope it eats you. i hope the ocean spits you out and swallows you again just to shut you up.” she left the next morning, silent and furious, dragging her duffel through the marina alone.
˳·˖✮⋆˙ she got what she wanted months later when Silco’s boat went down. some believed it was sabotage, but the ocean kept its secrets.
˳·˖✮⋆˙ Jinx knows shimmer is still out there. she sees the signs in odd marine behavior, malformed pups, weird aggression patterns. she chose marine biology because it was the only path that let her both protect and understand. it wasn’t just passion anymore—it was a plan. the only career that meant mobility, salt, and never being in the same place long enough for anything to catch up to her. she wanted coastlines, rusted dive boats, and field permits that took her off the map.
┈┈・✦ APPEARANCE
˳·˖✮⋆˙ she chopped her iconic braids off and shaved the side of her head during a breakdown halfway through her second year of undergrad. her program required hours in the lab, hours on boats, and fieldwork at 5am. sleep-deprived, overwhelmed, and needing control, she grabbed clippers in her dorm and went to town.
˳·˖✮⋆˙ it was impulsive and emotional, but she felt lighter after, like shedding skin. that first time diving with no hair sticking to her neck? freedom.
˳·˖✮⋆˙ her side-shaved pixie-mullet hybrid slowly evolved by late undergrad. her hair would stick up wild in the mornings unless she wore a beanie or baseball cap. she didn’t care. still hot.
˳·˖✮⋆˙ but postgrad? her peak. her hair grew into a sun-fried, salt-dried proper mullet—longer in the back again, short around the face and crown. it’s often tied up in messy mini-buns.
˳·˖✮⋆˙ Jinx was actually born with brown hair—not dark enough to be striking, not light enough to stand out. she hated it and always said it looked boring. her first bleach job at 15 was a total disaster, but she dyed it blue anyway. it didn’t need to be perfect; it needed to not be brown.
˳·˖✮⋆˙ now, her blue is iconic—faded cobalt, brine-washed streaks. always a little different depending on how much salt and sun she’s taken lately.
˳·˖✮⋆˙ she knows that most hair dyes are not ocean-safe—and while she’s reckless in some things, she would never intentionally harm it. so, she uses a semi-permanent vegan dye with as little chemicals as possible, cut with conditioner. she avoids refreshing her hair if she’s diving often; instead, she’ll wait until she has most of her work indoors.
˳·˖✮⋆˙ sometimes, her guilt wins and she just goes full natural for a few months. but because her roots grow in quickly—especially during long expeditions—you often catch her in that grown-out blue/brown look with sea-faded ends.
˳·˖✮⋆˙ her iconic cloud tattoos? waves now.
˳·˖✮⋆˙ has scars on her hands, arms, and thighs—not from sharks, ironically, but from slipping on coral or getting tangled in equipment. she has one on her knee from tripping on the dock. (secretly wants to get bit—not badly, just a little—just to say it happened. the scar would be so cool.)
˳·˖✮⋆˙ has a Mako shark tooth necklace she handmade, accented with beads on a black, adjustable cord. you never see her without it.
˳·˖✮⋆˙ you’ll find her in tankinis or rashguards, cargo shorts, sports bras, and high-top sneakers that always seem wet. her field backpack has too many carabiners and a metal tag with the coordinates of her hometown.
˳·˖✮⋆˙ she used to absolutely burn. pale, freckled, complexion that goes red immediately after 15 minutes in the sun. her skin flushes before the UV index even peaks. early in her diving years, she had a brutal sunburn that left her peeling for over a week. she walked around the docks with aloe dripping down her arms, hissing every time someone touched her shoulder. eventually started carrying sport-grade mineral sunscreen and zinc sticks (blue or white, swiped dramatically across her cheeks and nose like warpaint).
˳·˖✮⋆˙ (still forgets to use them sometimes, and ends up muttering, “fuck. i’ve been cooking. i’m literally a crab.”)
˳·˖✮⋆˙ over the years, she’s built a tolerance to moderate exposure. her shoulders are always a few shades darker, her nose peels cyclically, and when she does tan, it’s uneven as hell from her wetsuit.
˳·˖✮⋆˙ her neck and forearms are permanently freckled from sun and field burns, and she has finger calluses from rigging tags and diving gear.
˳·˖✮⋆˙ she smells like sunscreen, salt, and caffeine. always. sometimes even a little fishy if she didn’t get to shower yet.
˳·˖✮⋆˙ yes, she still has a proper perfume and makeup collection; she just doesn’t see the point in using them daily, especially during fieldwork—they’re a special occasion type of thing.
┈┈・✦ ACADEMICS & CAREER
˳·˖✮⋆˙ Jinx’s passion for marine biology landed her a scholarship, intended for “high-potential, low-income” students from underrepresented backgrounds.
˳·˖✮⋆˙ she was always the youngest in the room, the strangest, the most emotionally attached to her subject. it made her vulnerable—but also unforgettable.
˳·˖✮⋆˙ she burned through group partners like matches. either they couldn’t keep up, or they tried to control her—both were unforgivable.
˳·˖✮⋆˙ she missed deadlines frequently. but the only thing she never missed? a field trip. she’d hitchhike if she had to.
˳·˖✮⋆˙ her professors thought she was intense and distracted—but when they put her in the field, she turned quiet, focused, methodical. the sea worked like a second language for her.
˳·˖✮⋆˙ during her third year, she was placed in a funded research internship—the crown jewel of her program. guaranteed equipment access, travel stipends, data publishing opportunities.
˳·˖✮⋆˙ unbeknownst to her, the research included lethal sampling. Jinx was great at identifying species and analyzing behavior—but when it came time to dissect, she froze. her TA handed her a live crab in a shallow tray and said it was to monitor population health. she did it with shaky hands, wrote the lab report, and didn’t eat that night.
˳·˖✮⋆˙ every week it escalated—starfish dissection, ray necropsy, eels. the justification was always: “bycatch. it’s already dying.” she tried to tell herself it was fine, but it got harder every time something twitched, every time she saw an eye still open. still, she was young, under-resourced, and desperate to stay in the program.
“it’s part of learning. you have to know what’s inside.”
˳·˖✮⋆˙ she threw up after her first big dissection. she learned everything there is to know about shark anatomy while wishing she could forget all of it. she left the lab crying and her supervisor told her she was too emotional for this field.
˳·˖✮⋆˙ for the rest of the internship, she only took data after the animal was already dead, developing “weird” rituals to cope: whispering “sorry” before making incisions, doodling the animals in her field book before dissecting them, and refusing to name anything until after it was gone. she wanted to remember who she cut open, not what. she treated it like a quiet burial.
˳·˖✮⋆˙ eventually wrote her thesis on alternative tagging and data collection methods, with a scathing section dismantling the ethics of lethal programs when non-invasive methods exist. it circulated widely, and a few labs blacklisted her.
˳·˖✮⋆˙ Jinx is now in her mid-20’s. she’s a field marine biologist specializing in shark behavior, population tracking, and human-shark interaction patterns.
˳·˖✮⋆˙ she’s been burned. she’s lost funding, trust, and a few creatures she loved, and it shows in the way she moves. she’s slower now, more precise. still chaotic, but no longer that reckless. she doesn’t seek approval anymore, nor does she explain her methods unless she wants to. people either recognize her skill or they don’t. she’s too tired to convince anyone.
˳·˖✮⋆˙ still a walking contradiction: chaotic but precise, soft-hearted but sharp-tongued, distant but deeply loyal. she still sees herself in predators, but she’s also obsessed with their complexity: their gentleness, their misunderstood nature.
˳·˖✮⋆˙ the number one rule is to never dive alone, but she disregards it completely. she usually dives solo, deeper, and longer than she should. maybe some part of her still wants to disappear into the blue.
˳·˖✮⋆˙ sometimes, she still gets scared before every dive but goes anyway because she feels untouchable underwater. there’s no noise, no expectations, no one telling her to grow up—just her, the pressure in her lungs, and whatever’s waiting in the blue.
˳·˖✮⋆˙ her boat, a refurbished junker named The Biter, is patched up with duct tape and covered in paint splatters. the motor cuts out every few hours, and she lovingly kicks it back to life. sometimes, she crashes in it overnight—sleeping in a damp hoodie, curled on the deck, waves slapping the hull like its own lullaby.
˳·˖✮⋆˙ she owns a cluttered shack by the docks. inside: surfboards, stacks of notebooks, tanks full of crustaceans she hasn’t returned yet, old dive masks, shark jaws replicas, and a mattress on the floor with five tangled blankets. she even has a shrine of sorts—a shadow box of her most prized shark teeth, arranged by species.
˳·˖✮⋆˙ she built her own underwater drone from scrap parts. it follows her around like a loyal eel. she screams at it when it gets stuck, but fixes it with a weird tenderness.
˳·˖✮⋆˙ Jinx is an independent affiliate, and she sometimes collaborates with marine sanctuaries, rehabilitation centers, and public universities.
˳·˖✮⋆˙ she tries using her GoPro footage to educate, but edits them like a vlog most of the time. it cuts between her swimming peacefully and her screaming “YO WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT” when a stingray spooks her. she sometimes uses a fake nature documentary voice.
“observe, the local idiot. craving affection from a ten-foot fish.”
˳·˖✮⋆˙ never edits out the audio from her footage—which means the clips often feature: ragged breathing, swearing, or muffled laughter.
˳·˖✮⋆˙ uploads them with dumb titles like: “FREE-DIVING WITH A GIRL WHO DOESN’T TRUST ME YET (day 7 :p)”
˳·˖✮⋆˙ her income is mostly pieced together from grant fundings, freelance consulting for documentaries, and selling handmade jewelry put together from things she finds during her dives or at the beach. she occasionally leads seasonal guided shark dives, but only when no feeding/baiting is involved and when the sharks are already tagged and/or used to boats.
“don’t touch shit. don’t chase shit. don’t make me rescue you.”
˳·˖✮⋆˙ her smaller source of income comes from a patreon linked to her blog about aquatic life where she’s mostly raising awareness for sharks and debunking myths. she opens her inbox every once in a while for a Q&A. slut4sharks, chum4thought.
˳·˖✮⋆˙ she makes just enough to keep her boat from sinking (literally). any extra goes into new gear/equipment and her “bribe the permit officer” fund.
˳·˖✮⋆˙ she genuinely forgets what she’s been paid for and what she volunteered for. she keeps doing it either way.
˳·˖✮⋆˙ Jinx is invited to teach classes or guest lectures more often than you’d expect—not because she’s polished, but because she’s weirdly compelling. her papers are gritty and intuitive. her footage is insane. her field notes are unmatched. she never follows time limits and curses in every presentation. undergrads love her.
˳·˖✮⋆˙ she hates the idea of legacy, but if someone tells her she inspired them to study marine life, she gets quiet for a long time.
“don’t become me. just do better.”
˳·˖✮⋆˙ 80% of her job is fieldwork. she’ll do anything to avoid being in a building. she works solo or in duos; she hates team projects unless she handpicks the crew.
˳·˖✮⋆˙ she refuses funding or collaborations tied to lethal studies.
“you don’t need to gut something just to understand it.”
˳·˖✮⋆˙ she also refuses to work with private aquariums and research teams who treat the ocean like a lab or entertainment instead of a living system. if she finds out you went to SeaWorld she’ll scowl at you for a week and probably won’t see you the same way ever again.
˳·˖✮⋆˙ her lab—when she’s forced inside—is always cluttered with broken sample jars, no matter where she is.
˳·˖✮⋆˙ she’s constantly late submitting field reports, data spreadsheets, and ethics reviews. that still didn’t change from her undergrad days. you can also catch her working on something else that wasn’t assigned instead.
˳·˖✮⋆˙ when she finally does send in her reposts, she only types in all caps. subject lines: “SHE’S ALIVE (DATA BELOW)” or “FUCK THAT CURRENT (GPS ATTACHED)”
˳·˖✮⋆˙ she gets emotional seeing footage of endangered species being freed or rehabilitated and has an obsessive love for sanctuaries—places that treat marine life like living myths instead of exhibits.
˳·˖✮⋆˙ she has a soft spot for injured animals who can’t be released. there’s a half-blind blacktip reef shark named Clove that she visits every time, tapping the glass softly and whispering, “still fighting, huh?”
˳·˖✮⋆˙ once helped rescue a stranded shark that now lives in that sanctuary. she doesn’t talk about it often, but every time she visits, she brings a little offering—dried sardines, a new filter, sometimes just a hand pressed against the tank.
˳·˖✮⋆˙ has been asked to collaborate with the sanctuary team multiple times (educational programs, sanctuary tagging, enrichment designs). she designed an underwater mural on one of the viewing windows “to remind the animals it’s still an ocean.”
˳·˖✮⋆˙ she’s respected by fellow ‘radicals’—other young marine biologists and renegade conservationists. she’s part of an unofficial network of anti-corporate scientists who share open-source data, sanctuary maps, and blacklist names.
˳·˖✮⋆˙ she regularly gets messages like:
saw one of yours. she’s in warm waters again.
your paper got mentioned in the Grant Committee minutes. you pissed off someone good.
you want access to the sonar logs? don’t tell anyone where you got them.
˳·˖✮⋆˙ literally never checks the weather. like ever.
˳·˖✮⋆˙ she uses spray paint and waterproof chalk to leave little messages on buoys, docks, and her own tanks. notes like: JINX WAS HERE.
˳·˖✮⋆˙ eats saltines for breakfast. nothing else. claims it’s “for gut stability in the water.” it’s not. she just forgets to eat and they’re always in the glovebox.
˳·˖✮⋆˙ keeps a pocketknife in her boot. says it’s for cutting tangled lines but mostly uses it to cut fruit.
˳·˖✮⋆˙ when she’s thinking through a tough problem, she’ll start mimicking shark swimming behavior—pacing tight circles, flicking her fingers like fins. it helps her focus.
˳·˖✮⋆˙ her favorite shark species rotates every month.
˳·˖✮⋆˙ also has a favorite shark documentary she’s watched 37 times. she yells at the narrator when he uses outdated info. she’s emailed the production company about it… three times.
˳·˖✮⋆˙ Jinx once tagged the same shark four times because she kept losing sleep over it getting “untraceable.”
˳·˖✮⋆˙ she thinks of tagging sharks as blessing them.
“go raise hell, pretty girl.”
˳·˖✮⋆˙ she claims sharks have favorite humans (they somewhat do), and that several of them remember her.
“see that whip of her tail? that’s for me.”
“she circled once, slow—means ‘hello.’ probably.”
˳·˖✮⋆˙ she keeps a log of all the sharks she’s personally tagged—with names, personality notes, and sketches. it’s beat-up, water-stained, and sacred. some examples include:
Powder (Lemon Shark, female)
the first shark Jinx ever tagged—curious and docile. disappeared for a full year. when Powder’s tag pinged again, Jinx cried so hard she collapsed onto the deck.
Chomper (Bull Shark, male)
survived a propeller strike. Jinx found him circling with rage and tagged him anyway. aggressive, territorial, but returns to the same cove every summer like clockwork.
Shimmer (Mako Shark, female)
fastest thing Jinx has ever seen. once swam past her so close it nearly pulled her braid loose. loves warm shallows, showy as hell. highly intelligent and calculated, but can get erratic.
Isha (Whale Shark, female juvenile)
a little thing that keeps popping up in unexpected places. once followed Jinx’s boat for hours and loves “eating” the bubbles she leaves behind.
˳·˖✮⋆˙ she also keeps a personal journal in which she writes about her daily life—not regularly, just when she remembers and/or feels like it.
wednesday / early as hell / east cove
Isha found me before i found her. little shit came in fast today, swerved past and almost smacked me with her tail. juvenile confidence is off the charts. good for her. she’s grown i think (maybe 3 inches longer since last month? getting cocky). gills look clean, movement’s snappy, still no sign of tagging scar irritation. i let her come close and she tried mouthing the gopro again (gently tho. puppy behavior). she’s teasing now. probably learned it from me.
collected temp and salinity data, marked new coords. no other girls in the zone today + still no sign of Chomper. swear he’s doing this antisocial bullshit on purpose. maybe he’s sulking. left a data buoy near the old reef ledge just in case he’s circling deep. the water felt heavy when i left. might’ve just been me.
— J
˳·˖✮⋆˙ Jinx lets the ocean pull affection out of her. she coos, she hums, she gets stupidly soft when a creature lets her close. also talks with sea animals like they’re people.
“look at you… big and bitchy and beautiful. i missed you.”
“hey! hey. not the camera, please. that’s expensive. bite me instead.”
“that’s it, sweetheart. easy. just a kiss from the tracker.”
˳·˖✮⋆˙ calls goblin sharks “ugly little freaks” but she’d still die for them. she has a soft spot for the misfits.
˳·˖✮⋆˙ sharks don’t have bones. their skeletons are made of cartilage. she uses this as an excuse for her own poor posture.
“i’m just biologically aligned with my girls.”
˳·˖✮⋆˙ believes sharks are the ultimate metaphor for survival. you adapt, or you die. you keep moving, or you drown.
˳·˖✮⋆˙ she didn’t mean to reconnect with Vi. it sort of just… happened. they were both in town at the same time—Jinx was there for personal research, Vi was there on a temporary contract at the docks. first thought when Vi saw her again? “fuck, she’s blue.” Jinx’s first thought? “fuck, she’s red.”
˳·˖✮⋆˙ it was strange when they started speaking again. Vi tried to apologize—for being gone, for getting arrested, for everything. Jinx cut her off with a shrug, but her voice shook when she pointed out how her sister missed her “silly stingray phase.”
˳·˖✮⋆˙ Vi’s absence still hurt like a coral scrape—deep, raw, lingering. Jinx didn’t say it out loud, but she joked too much and way too fast, like she was trying to fill in the years with punchlines.
˳·˖✮⋆˙ still, Vi started showing up more, offering to help Jinx haul gear, asking smart questions about her research. Vi was trying, and Jinx—despite herself—started letting her in.
˳·˖✮⋆˙ she gave her a crash course in basic fish tagging one day, made Vi hold the small specimen. it thrashed, and she screamed. Jinx laughed for the first time in a long time—really laughed. that kind of breathless, stomach-clenching laughter she didn’t know she still had. things started looking up for them since then.
˳·˖✮⋆˙ now, she calls Vi on the radio every time she docks, even if they’re fighting. it’s how she says “i’m alive.”
˳·˖✮⋆˙ once saw two female sharks swimming together and sent the pic to Vi.
˳·˖✮⋆˙ Jinx can’t stay in the same place longer than 6 months. she gets itchy, paces, and finds excuses to leave. she has a suitcase half-packed even when she’s not going anywhere.
˳·˖✮⋆˙ she keeps a list of coastal field stations she can crash at. people she’s worked with who’ll let her take the spare bunk or couch.
˳·˖✮⋆˙ she has a habit of tracing coastline maps when she’s anxious. she marks routes with her finger like she’s already planning the next escape.
┈┈・✦ LOVE
˳·˖✮⋆˙ in her early 20’s, Jinx didn’t flirt—she taunted. she’d grin at people like they were something to spar with. she didn’t want connection—she wanted distraction. proving she could pull them in was the goal. keeping them? not even on the radar. it was all teeth and wit and “what, you’re flustered already?” but that version of her was trying so hard to seem untouchable because she felt like an exposed nerve most of the time.
˳·˖✮⋆˙ as she grows into her mid-20’s, she doesn’t try as hard anymore… because she doesn’t have to. there’s this unbothered confidence about her—salt in her hair, a tan line where her dive knife usually sits on her thigh, the look in her eyes when she watches a shark circle her underwater. she walks barefoot across the dock, half-wet, coffee in one hand, dive log in the other, and somehow you forget what you were saying. she’s very good at accidentally seducing people by being passionate and chaotic in the field, pulling her wetsuit halfway off while ranting about migration patterns.
˳·˖✮⋆˙ you meet at a marine sanctuary. Jinx is consulting on a tagging project, just using the tanks to test some equipment. you’re part of the permanent staff—someone who lives rooted in a place she only passes through. you’re gentle, steady, hands always wet with saltwater and care. you rehab wounded stingrays, track recovery schedules, organize community outreach. your world is small but meaningful.
˳·˖✮⋆˙ Jinx doesn’t expect to connect—she usually avoids “still” people. but you understand marine life like she does. you cry over strandings. you remember every turtle’s name. you challenge her when she’s careless—correct her gently when she’s wrong, question her equipment methods, remind her to fill out her rehab forms before bolting.
˳·˖✮⋆˙ you’re not impressed by her chaos either, which is rare. you’re impressed when she talks about shark behavior with fire in her voice. when she tears up seeing a fully healed animal get released back into the wild. when she stays late, not for research, but to make sure a tank filter doesn’t overheat.
˳·˖✮⋆˙ your connection starts as quiet trust—a shared thermos, a second set of eyes on the sonar, the feeling of someone waiting at the dock when she comes up gasping, a voice in her comms headset underwater saying, “tag’s stable. she’s still circling you.”
˳·˖✮⋆˙ she lights up like a fuse when you ask her anything ocean-related. the more curious you are, the more animated she becomes—hands flying, walking in circles, sketching migration routes on napkins, splashing water out of the tanks by accident.
˳·˖✮⋆˙ but she also gets weirdly quiet around you at times. not awkward, just… observing. like she’s memorizing you for later.
˳·˖✮⋆˙ she’s always watching your hands. when you’re measuring coral samples or gently cupping a sea turtle hatchling, she stares way too long. doesn’t even try to hide it. she wants to feel those hands on her.
˳·˖✮⋆˙ sometimes, she stares at your mouth while you’re giving field notes. you’re just reading numbers off a notebook, but her brain is miles away.
˳·˖✮⋆˙ she always offers to help with your gear, then takes her sweet time doing it, always double-checking your regulator like it’s second nature. she adjusts your straps way too slowly. the harness, the wetsuit zipper, even the damn flippers. her fingers keep brushing exposed skin.
“can’t have you slipping out of this, sweetheart. gotta make sure you’re secure.”
˳·˖✮⋆˙ underwater, she swims close. she glides past you just slow enough to brush your hand. she once made the sign for “you okay?” five times in ten minutes. you were fine, she just needed to check… over and over.
˳·˖✮⋆˙ Jinx doesn’t talk about her past at first. but when she sees you cry quietly after a stranding, after a baby seal dies despite everything—she sits with you. she doesn’t talk, just offers saltines and her silence. eventually, she mutters, “lost someone once. still dream about them. still hate the ocean some days.”
˳·˖✮⋆˙ she doesn’t even realize she likes you at first, but it’s in the small things: the way she saves you the better wetsuit or starts listening to the music you like instead of her own shit.
˳·˖✮⋆˙ then, she starts leaving little things in your locker: a post-it that says “i fixed the algae filter, you’re welcome,” a wrinkled map with your initials circled around her favorite dive spot, a little stitched-up plush shark that she definitely made herself during a long field night.
˳·˖✮⋆˙ she starts noticing the signs when she names a shark after you or lets you name one for her.
˳·˖✮⋆˙ she tries to pretend it’s nothing—you both know she’s not built to stay—but the connection’s undeniable. and when she inevitably leaves? it hurts.
˳·˖✮⋆˙ she’ll still send you a photo from every dive site, even if she’s on the other side of the world, and finds herself recording audio notes just for you—updates on creatures you both knew.
˳·˖✮⋆˙ she stays up reading your messages over and over, replaying old voice notes with headphones on while pretending she’s “checking dive audio levels.”
˳·˖✮⋆˙ she starts writing your name in her logbooks without realizing. later flips back, sees it, and just… groans. she knows she’s done for. when she visits again, it’s like stepping into something warmer than she knows what to do with.
˳·˖✮⋆˙ she goes from “don’t get used to this. i move. i always move.” to “fuck, i miss you when i surface.”
˳·˖✮⋆˙ Jinx starts fights in relationships the moment someone says, “i wish you didn’t have to leave again.” don’t make her choose between you and the ocean.
˳·˖✮⋆˙ she needs someone who doesn’t chase her—but doesn’t let her disappear either. she needs to be able to fall apart and still be found.
˳·˖✮⋆˙ she needs someone soft—but not passive. she needs someone who says “you’re being cruel,” when she’s lashing out. someone who reassures her they’re not leaving even when she doesn’t ask for it.
˳·˖✮⋆˙ so, you don’t need to be loud or wild. you just need to hold steady, be the one who waits at the surface. you don’t always need to keep up with her. sometimes, you just need to stay in one place long enough for her to come back to.
˳·˖✮⋆˙ Jinx doesn’t just flirt to charm—she flirts to test waters. push and pull. she watches what flusters you, what makes you smirk, what makes you push back.
˳·˖✮⋆˙ her flirting is on theme… inappropriately so. you once complimented her dive technique, and she replied:
“what can i say? i like going deep.”
˳·˖✮⋆˙ but every now and then, you get her flustered. it doesn’t happen often, but when it does? her ears go red. she gets all fidgety with her gear, pretending her oxygen tank strap is twisted (it’s not). you say something sweet, and she covers it with a cough and a muttered “shut up.”
˳·˖✮⋆˙ every time she’s around you, her hands need to be busy: fidgeting with her dive knife, drawing something on her palm with a pen, tapping her fingers on your desk. anything to not reach for you.
˳·˖✮⋆˙ still, she nudges your shoulder with hers when you’re both leaning over the same touch tank. rests her chin on your head when you’re bent over tagging data. says “you’re warm” when she leans into you—but she stays there way too long for it to be about temperature. if you ever tuck her hair behind her ear or touch her wrist gently, she’ll go absolutely quiet for a few seconds, like she forgot how to breathe.
˳·˖✮⋆˙ unbeknownst to you, you’re the only person allowed to touch her hair. she melts completely as you gently brush out her knots post-dive. she lets you do her hair one day while she’s reviewing migration data, mumbling, “don’t make it too pretty or the sharks won’t respect me.”
˳·˖✮⋆˙ Jinx finally takes you to a tiny, hidden cove she discovered months ago during a solo tagging trip. it’s quiet, protected, full of starfish and bioluminescent plankton if you stay past dusk. you’re sitting with your knees touching, and she offers you her hoodie when the breeze gets cold. she doesn’t kiss you yet, but you can practically feel her thinking about it.
˳·˖✮⋆˙ one night, you’re wandering the sanctuary tanks after hours. you’re not supposed to be there, but you have the keys, and you’re both quiet as you walk past the backlit tanks. you stop in front of her favorite rescued reef shark… and she just watches you watch it. when you turn to look at her, her pupils blow wide.
“you know, you’re kind of my favorite thing in this place.”
˳·˖✮⋆˙ it terrifies her. you’re everything she’s not supposed to need. so when she finally kisses you, it’s like breaking surface after holding her breath too long.
˳·˖✮⋆˙ she’s intensely physical but still quite shy about romantic vulnerability. will kiss you underwater but panics if you say “i love you” on dry land.
˳·˖✮⋆˙ she calls it a “thing,” never a relationship. not until you ask. then she freezes and flushes.
“i mean—yeah. it’s a thing. a very serious, exclusive, head-over-fins kinda thing… right?”
˳·˖✮⋆˙ during long research nights, she sprawls across your lap like a cat, resting her head on your stomach while you flip through data logs.
˳·˖✮⋆˙ she always claims she doesn’t sleep much. but when she crashes at your place? she knocks out hard. mouth open, arm over your waist, drooling a little.
˳·˖✮⋆˙ one time, you’re both sitting on the edge of the boat and she’s rambling about something—probably about how Isha keeps following the same current loop like a little freak. you say her name once, but she keeps talking. you say it again, softer. she finally looks over—and you kiss her before she can speak. she chokes on her own breath, laughs against your mouth, and still flushes.
˳·˖✮⋆˙ she tries to kiss you through your masks on a dive. it’s ridiculous. she bumps noses with you and laughs into her regulator.
˳·˖✮⋆˙ Jinx fucks the same way she tags sharks: fast, focused, and like she’s studied you for months. she knows exactly how to handle you—when to be gentle, when to bite.
“just relax for me. i’ve got you, pretty.”
“you’re squirmy today. you want it that bad?”
˳·˖✮⋆˙ she has a kink for semi-public sex, especially at sea—it’s her safe space, after all. she’ll pull you into her lap on the boat deck right after your dive, anchored miles out. saltwater still clinging to your skin, wetsuit peeled halfway down, sitting on a towel with her fingers already pressing between your legs like she forgot what the word “patience” means. she licks the salt off your collarbone while you gasp into her shoulder.
“look at you, dripping for me. you gonna let me taste that?”
˳·˖✮⋆˙ boat sex again because it deserves more attention. the boat rocks gently under you while you’re in her lap, moaning into her neck. she keeps moving even after you come—she’s insatiable at sea. she loves what you look like when you just finished a dive: still dripping, still flushed from adrenaline, hair tangled and breathing fast. she melts and whines into your collarbone, clutching your hips like you’re going to disappear.
˳·˖✮⋆˙ she’s always a little needy after intense work—after dives that push her body, long surveys, hard current swims. she’s aching to be touched. she’ll crawl into your lap and kiss your neck, hips already rolling.
“need you to take the edge off. i’m serious. can’t focus… not until you let me come.”
˳·˖✮⋆˙ she keeps a vibrator in her dry bag. just in case.
“some nights the sea’s too calm and i get bored.”
˳·˖✮⋆˙ if you’re lucky, she lets you watch her use it on herself in the bunk. if you’re really lucky, she hands it to you and says, “your turn.”
˳·˖✮⋆˙ she keeps a folder of photos and polaroids of you during her expeditions. some are cute. some are not cute. you know the ones. and she uses them often when she’s gone.
˳·˖✮⋆˙ she doesn’t really talk about the future… until one day she does, ears already pink.
“you think the next reef survey should be north or south of where i tagged Chomper? you know… when we go… together.”
˳·˖✮⋆˙ Jinx kisses you like she might have to leave tomorrow. always with a little urgency. always like it might be the last time. she makes that soft, broken sound—like something finally untangled in her chest.
˳·˖✮⋆˙ when she wants to stay but doesn’t know how, she might ask, out of nowhere, “would you come with me? if i left?” and then pretend it was hypothetical.
˳·˖✮⋆˙ but you’re tied to the sanctuary. you can’t just drop everything and follow her across the world. “these creatures need me, too,” you tell her.
˳·˖✮⋆˙ that conflict haunts her. because for once, she’s not running from something. she’s running back to you.
˳·˖✮⋆˙ she always says, “don’t wait for me,” when she leaves for fieldwork, but god—she wants you to.
˳·˖✮⋆˙ you don’t beg her to stay. but every time she comes back, you’re still here—hands in the tank, hair tied back, looking up like she’s the one who’s wild and wonderful and fragile. that somehow makes her want to stay more than anything.
˳·˖✮⋆˙ you still try to make it work somehow. she offers to stay, just for a while. you visit her field project for a week, and she doesn’t let go of your hand the entire time. neither of you gives up your world, but you try to find a rhythm between them.
˳·˖✮⋆˙ and if she had to belong somewhere, she wants it to be where you are.
“Mmh, fuck…” You moaned out as you gripped onto your sheets, fingers stuffed as deep inside you as they’d go, tight hole clenching around them as you pumped in and out. You were completely naked, above the covers, legs spread wide as you fucked yourself stupid. Your fingers curled just right, constantly hitting your own g-spot, whiny moans growing louder. You opened an eye to peak over at your bare window, blinds pulled open, pussy out for the whole fucking world to see.
Well, not really the whole world, but for Jinx.
She was watching, you knew it. Even though you two were together now, this was one of your stalker girlfriend’s favorite past times, watching you from afar. Only this time, you’d decided to put on a show for her, something to… kill time, let’s say. The only thing you could see within the pitch darkness of the window was the violet glowing from her eyes each time you moaned out, smirking as you knew she was getting frustrated. You could imagine her, hand down her panties, fingers circling around her clit, slick dampening the fabric of her pants as she watched you, and fuck did that turn you on even more.
You felt yourself tightening around your fingers, breaths quickening as you slowly began to reach your orgasm, back arching as you pumped faster. You’d usually start moaning out Jinx’s name by now, begging for her, like clockwork, but just to fuck with her, you didn’t. You just let out more breathy, loud moans as you just about reached your climax. Gods, you were right there, just barley over the edge, so fucking close, all it took was one more pump—
Then suddenly, a body pounced on the bed, hand gripped onto your wrist, forcefully pulling out your two fingers. Your eyes flew open, darting towards the hand grabbing your arm. It led to none other than Jinx, who was grabbing onto you so hard that you could feel her nails creating dents in your skin. She had a twisted expression on her face, her big eyes vibrant and violet, upper lip curled up, almost like she was getting ready to snarl before tearing you the fuck up. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing, doll face?”
The corners of your mouth curled up into a smirk, holding eye contact, trying your best to stay calm and collected to piss her off even more. “What does it look like i’m doing?” That sarcastic sentence alone made her squeeze harder, slowly moving forward until she was hovering above you, face only centimeters away from yours.
“Well, it looks like you’re being a fuckin’ slut, since you’re asking.” She lowered down to your ear, breathing into you before she spoke, sending goosebumps throughout your body. “Do you get off to people watching you slut yourself out, hm?”
You shuddered, breath hitching before you spoke. “N-No.”
“No?!” Jinx said, her voice raising, eyebrows furrowing as she reached over, pulling the rope out from under your bed. Your eyes widened, a little from fear but mostly from excitement. You loved riling Jinx up, it made her unhinged, taking out all her pent up frustrations on you. “You’re not only a slut, but also a liar? Gimme a break, toots!”
Before you knew it, or could even help it, you were completely tied up. Hands tied behind your back, rope knotted up around your torso, thighs, and breasts, squeezing your body as your back pressed against the wall, exposed cunt spilling slick all over the sheets. There was a vibrator tied to the top of your cunt, continuously vibrating on your clit. You looked up at Jinx, bug eyed and whiny, hoping she’d at least whisper sweet nothings in your ear as she used you. “Oh, you poor thing!” She tutted tauntingly at your puppy face, whipping out her 10 inch light blue dildo.
Your jaw dropped, eyes widening, gulping hard before you forced a sentence out the best you could between your groans. “T-That… won’t fit inside!”
Jinx stared at it, tilting her head as if she was calculating how much your hole could actually handle. “Hmm.. looks like you’re gonna have to make it fit, princess!” She started, pressing the head of the toy against your hole, making you whimper out. “You didn’t call out to me before you, ya know,” She leaned in closer. “Say my name.”
You blinked at her command, remembering to pull yourself together the best you could, smirking before scoffing at her. “No.”
“Hah! Feelin’ bold, are we?” Jinx let out a dry laugh, pushing the toy in forcefully, as deep as it’d go. Your eyes shut tightly, a yelp escaping your lips as she did so, holding it by the base as your hole tried its best to stretch out for it. “Fine, you wanna play that game?” She pumped the toy in and out, rubbing against your g-spot, your hole tight around the silicone as she clicked the vibrator to the highest setting. You threw your head back, a loud groan escaping your lips as she began to completely wreck you, pushing the dildo in deeper and deeper with each pump until she damn near reached your cervix. Your toes curled, pupils shot, clawing at the wall as she did so. “Then let’s play, toots.”
You were fucked, you knew that, but it excited you more than winning the lottery. Jinx was pounding into you, feeding into your brattiness with every stroke of the toy, her other hand groping your breast, fondling it as she pinched your nipple. There were tears streaming down your face from overstimulation, babbling out, ‘I’m sorry!’, and ‘Didn’t mean to!’, and her personal favorite, ‘You’re too big!’. Your brain was blank, filled with nothing but the view of Jinx’s fat cock stuffed inside you, hazily looking at her as your pathetic, high pitched moans continued.
“Jeez, aren’t you supposed to be a brat? You’re just a big crybaby!” She said, rolling her eyes as she continued. One thing about Jinx though, as much as she acted like she didn’t like it, the more you sobbed and pleaded, the wetter she got. There was warm slick sticking between her thighs, her panties completely drenched in it, hips bucking the air and moaning out as she carefully watched your hole cream around the sucked in silicone.
“Hey,” She started, squishing your cheeks, forcing you to look at her and snap you out of your pleasure high. “Wanna see somethin’, sweet thing?” She asked, slipping the dildo out of you. You felt your built up cum dripping out of your hole, panting at the slight relief. She pulled away, beginning to slip out of her clothes. You watched as the pieces of cloth fell onto the floor, leaving her naked, cunt spread out and on display, her juices drooling off it. Your eyes were glued onto it, feeling the corners of your mouth water up. She smirked, snickering as she positioned her legs between yours, so close you could feel the heat radiating off her pussy. “This is what you did to me,” She toyed with her wetness, letting out moans as you looked up at her, face flushed. “Say my name.”
Your breathing quickened at the heat, looking at her with glassy eyes. “W-Why?”
“Because,” She started, her clit inching closer, just barely rubbing up against your slit. Your eyes rolled back, groaning out from her slight touch. “I wanna hear you yearn for me. I wanna know it’s me who you want to watch you, touch you, fuck you. Want your mind filled with nothing but me,” She pushed her cunt onto yours, her clit pressed up against the vibrator, wetness mixing into one as a whiny moan escaped her lips. “C’mon, just wanna hear my favorite girl call out for her Jinx—”
Your back arched, cutting her off the second she rolled her hips on your cunt, shuddering breaths escaping your lips before you moaned out, “Jinx!”
Fuck, did that do it for her. She threw her head back, pussy fully pressed onto yours now, her needy clit rubbing up and down against the toy and your drippy hole. “That’s it, what a good girl!” She praised. Her rocking hips pushed the vibrator deeper against your bud, sending shooting jolts all throughout your body, crying out from the overwhelming feeling. In that moment, she couldn’t have given less than a fuck about your tears, reaching over to lick them up, leaving slobber all over your face as she continued. “F-Fuck, you taste so good, can’t ever get enough of you!”
“‘S too much, Jinx, please! G-Gonna—Mmh! Come again, puhlease! H-Hurts! Jinx, Jinx, Jinx!” You cried out, your sentence chopped up with moans and whimpers, making her own noises grow louder. Your sex with Jinx was loud, squelching noises from both sopping cunts rubbing together, the constant moans from the both of you overlapping each other, the two of you equally as greedy for more.
“Y-Yeah? It hurts, you poor, poor girl,” She cooed mockingly, tugging on the rope pressing against your chest, pulling you in closer. “Tell me, you like when I watch you fuck yourself?”
You were barely able to force any words out now, completely lost in her, drool dripping down your jaw as you stared at her with lowered, fucked out eyes. “I c-come at the thought of—of you watching me!”
She let out a shuddery moan at your response, your words swirling around in her mind, feeling herself getting closer. “Who do you belong to, doll? C’mon, tell me, c’mon…!”
“I-I belong to-” Your sentence was cut short by your orgasm hitting you like a wave, quick and by surprise, screaming out, “Jinx!”
Cum dripped out of your hole once more and along her cunt, feeling her body tense up against yours, her grip tightening against the rope as her orgasm soon followed yours. Jinx’s moans became whiny mews, breathing hitched, her thighs quivering as she opened herself up to get a good angle of where exactly she’d want to come on you, her fluids landing on your pussy as she finished, making you feel all warm and fuzzy. You were completely drenched and drunk off her cum, wishing she’d reward you for taking it so well by letting you clean her up.
A string of cum followed Jinx’s cunt as she pulled away, making your cheeks flare up. “Gods, look at that…” Her hand traveled south, spreading herself open and cutting the string with her fingers, sticking them in her mouth to savor your mixed juices. Your jaw dropped, completely taking your breath away as you blushed harder. She cackled at your expression. “You should stop that, you know it turns me on when you look vulnerable.” She said as she laid next to you, panting while you sat there, wriggling within the ropes and whimpering out. “J-Jinx…”
“Oh, shit, silly me!” She sat up, snickering as she turned off the vibrator, your body finally being allowed to relax. You were sore everywhere, the ropes pinching your skin, panting like a dog who desperately needed water. “You took it so well, my favorite, perfect girl!” She said, loosening up the knots as she grinned at you, poking your nose mid untying. “Doesn’t take much to admit that you belong to me, right?” You smiled back proudly, looking like a puppy who was expecting a treat. She raised an eyebrow at your expression, finger moving your jaw up to look at her. She kissed your lips softly, tongue sliding into your mouth as your tongues pressed against one another. She pulled away, staring into your eyes. “What? Puppy want a treat?” She said, half jokingly.
You nodded as she freed your hands, the first thing they gripped onto was her torso, kisses trailing down her stomach. She moaned, biting onto her bottom lip. “Alright, alright… Go ahead and clean me up, will ya, baby girl?”
; warnings: NSFW, gun, some pain inflicting, strap, messy sex, squirt, fingering, stretching out, some degrading/praise, switch!jinx x switch!reader (i think… fighting for dominance almost)
“You wore those just for me, toots?”
You felt a shockwave travel throughout your body as you heard those words roll out of Jinx’s mouth as she stood behind you. Eyes widening, breath picking up, room spinning a bit from the shock going straight to your head. This feeling wasn’t from fear, or anxiousness, it was from excitement. It was almost as if your fight or flight mode ceased to exist. Your fists balled up, squeezing tightly, little crescent marks beginning to form on your palms. That little seven letter sentence completely sobered you up, focused on nothing but the sound of Jinx’s boots clinking on the ground as she slowly walked around your room. For some reason, you refused to turn around. You were too busy trying to convince yourself that the moment you’d waited on for so fucking long was actually happening.
“Wanna know somethin’?” She asked, her finger grazing along your walls and desk, fiddling with the objects on it. “I’ve been in this room so many times, too many times to count.” Her steps moved closer to you, inches away now, standing right behind you. Her voice was a little rough, but soft, almost a whisper. Your body stiffened up, fists shivering. “But, this time is different. This is the first time I’m in it with you… awake.”
Her breath was hitting the back of your neck, making you gasp sharply. “Are you scared?” Jinx whispered tauntingly in your hear, making you quickly turn around to face her. To face the woman that haunted your life in the best fucking way possible. The woman who knew your every move, killed someone for you, and who could destroy you if she wanted to. There she was, face to face with you, a smirk plastered on her lips. Her eyes gleamed in the dark faintly lit room, pupils blown out. Her hands were behind her back, blue hair in her face, looking innocent yet so guilty.
“Jinx,” You said, voice breathy and quiet.
“That’s me.” She said, inching closer. She was just centimeters away now, so close you felt her body heat radiating off of her. Your heart pounded against your chest loudly, so loud you could hear every beat.
“What… What is it about me? Why me?” You questioned, hesitant but not stuttering. Your mind raced as you finally asked the question that tore you apart. You wondered what she’d say, your eyes darting all across her face, itching for a reaction out of her.
She raised her eyebrow then sneered, like she wasn’t expecting a question. “I could tell you weren’t scared from the start,” She started, walking around you, eyeing your body. “You might be hot, but you aren’t such a good actress. You do know that, right?”
Your eyes rolled at her comment, scoffing a bit. “Well-”
Jinx cut you off with the sudden click of her gun pressed against the back of your head. Your eyes shot open, tensing up against the cold metal. “Yet, you still put on that fucked up petrified face every time I got close to you. Like, like you… wanted to go along with it.” She made her way around you again, gun still cocked on your head, nose to nose with you now as she spoke. “You did that for me, didn’t you? You did that to please me. You… You’re fucking crazy.” Her eyes glared at you, snickers escaping her lips as she spoke.
Your eyebrows furrowed, flush forming on your cheeks. She’d known all along, which irritated you. I mean, if she knew, why hadn’t she done something about it sooner? “Funny, coming from you. Answer my fucking question.”
“C’mon, babe… Don’t you get it?” Jinx leaned in, lips hovering over yours, her other hand gripping on your jaw. “I just fucking did.”
That did it for you. Your lips crashed into hers, a moan escaping your mouth as the two of you melted into one. Her long tongue slithered its way into your mouth, battling for dominance with your own. She threw the gun on your bed, slamming you down on it, tongues still intertwined. Her saliva dripped into your mouth as she groaned against you, hips grinding against your damp panties. You wrapped your arms around her neck, fingertips feeling her skin, something you’d been dreaming to do for so long. She suddenly pulled away from you, sitting up on your thighs, panting as she spoke.
“Do ya wanna know something else I know?” She asked, head tilting as her hand reaching down, fingers trailing against the bottom of your stomach, making the heat build up inside your thighs again. You weren’t sure if you really wanted to know, but you nodded anyway, hoping whatever it was would get her to put her fingers inside you.
“I know about your late night activities,” Jinx said as she leaned over you, hand slowly creeping its way into your panties, making your legs spread. Your cheeks flushed a bright pink, biting down on your lip.
“I memorized the way you’d call out for me every time you came. I mean, seriously, every fucking time. I memorized your face, your body, the certain pitch your moans made right when you were on edge,” Her hand slipped in, grazing over your clit, playing with the wetness dripping out of your hole. You gasped at the sensation, gripping onto the sheets, eyes darting towards her face. You were desperate at this point, skin on fire from her teasing, wanting nothing more than for her to completely wreck you. “Wanna know one more thing?”
You nodded quickly, “Yes, please. Tell me, hurry.”
She giggled, tutting at your pleading. “What a needy thing.” She licked along your ear, nibbling it softly before she whispered, “I memorized the way you fucked yourself while you imagined it was me.”
Her two fingers slipped in, so smoothly, so easily, like you were molded perfectly for her. Like she belonged inside of you. Your back arched, eyes rolling back, moaning loudly. She groaned as she pushed them in as far as they’d go, feeling as you clenched around her. The ear nibble quickly turned into a bite, drawing blood from your ear. She licked it up, pumping in and out of you, curling her fingers just the way you liked it. You yelped at the sudden sharp pain, but quickly forgot about it as your whole body was swallowed by pleasure.
“Jinx!” You called out for her, hands gripping on her shoulders, nails digging into her skin.
She looked at you, eyes full of desire and glow, trying her best to stay composed as she continued. “Jeez, you’re wearin’ out my name, toots.”
“You… You promise you were looking?” You asked, eyes lowered, a smirk rising up on your face.
Jinx scoffed, eyebrows raised. “You’re way worse than my stalking habit, you know that?” She suddenly pulled out, stared into your eyes, and put the fingers that were just inside of you in her mouth. Your eyes widened, jaw dropping slightly, breath hitching.
“Sweet.” Was all she said before she practically tore your panties off, leaving you naked, exposing the stickiness between your thighs as she spread them open and stared into it. “Wow, look at you!Do guns against your head turn you on, doll?” She taunted as she poked at your clit, making your whole body twitch. You suddenly sat up, pulling her towards you, and kissed her again. You slid your tongue in her mouth to taste yourself as you began to tug her pieces of clothing off. One by one they left her body, leaving her just as bare and vulnerable as you.
“There,” You muttered, lips now resting against her neck. “Now we’re even.” You bit down, sucking and swirling your tongue on her pale skin, leaving behind red and purple bruises. You were totally marking her, making sure everyone knew that she belonged to you just as much as you belonged to her. You reached down her stomach, further down, until you reached her sopping cunt. It was practically drooling for you, her head throwing back and a strained moan escaping her lips as your finger gently pressed against her clit. You rubbed in slow circles, hearing her breath hitch as she slowly began to lose control.
“H-Handsy, aren’t ya?” Jinx muttered out, her lanky, cold hands gripping onto your shoulders as her hips bucked on your fingers, like she was asking for more without using words. You grinned softly at her neediness, knowing that in reality, as scary as she wanted to seem, you were the one who had the power. You’d known that all along, too. The two of you were a panting, moaning, needy mess as you continued to tease her. You wanted her to break first, to throw you down and spread you apart, to use you until she was satisfied. You could tell she was close to breaking—her face twisting up every time you’d stop rubbing, nose twitching, moans growing louder and more frustrated. She was so fucking cute.
You were quickly thrown back onto the bed as she got up for a second, rummaging through the bag she had brought.
“What are you—”
“Jeez, give me a second, will ya?” Jinx said as she strapped something on her hips, rolling your eyes at her. “It’s something special.” She turned around, grinning wide as a violet, glowing strap hung off of her. Your eyes widened at her length, looking back up to meet her eyes. “I made this just for you, toots!” She said proudly. “You said I could do whatever I wanted, right?” She questioned, climbing back on the bed, propping you up against the wall.
“Well,” You started, thighs opening up for her. “I did say something like that.” Her face lit up, wasting no time as she positioned the tip of the toy against your drippy hole. “Open wiiiiide!” She said as she pushed your thighs back, pressing them against your chest. You looked away in embarrassment, eyes shutting for a second, before you felt the sharp pain of her palm hitting your cheek. Your eyes shot back open, jaw dropping a bit as you stared at her hardened expression. “Look at me. Don’t close your eyes, got it?” Jinx instructed, holding onto your jaw as she forced your face towards her. “Gods, that look on your face fucking kills me…” She said as she slowly slid her member inside of you.
A slow, loud moan rolled out of your mouth as she did so, eyes rolling back. You gripped onto her back, nails running down against it, leaving red marks all along it. “Shit,” You hissed. “So—So fucking big…" She was stretching you out, making your face twist up as she pushed the toy in deeper.
“Oh, I know, baby. But you can take it, can’t you? I made this special just for you. Don’t ruin it, alright? I believe in you!” She cooed a little mockingly as she forced it in all the way. Jinx knew how to please you. She’d learned how to from afar, taking the time to make the perfect toy for you with the notes she’d taken from her watching you orgasm time and time again. It hit your g-spot just right, grazing against it every time she thrusted, the violet light glowing so brightly, showing how deep inside you she was. She fucked so hard against you that the toy repeatedly slapped against your clit, sending jolts all throughout your body.
“Fuck, s-so deep…” She started, pressing against the bulge the toy created against your skin. Jinx was… messy, to say the least. She would rut into you, thrusts heavy and deep, wanting to fill up every inch of you. The strap of the toy rubbing against her puffy clit every time she did so. Poor thing was so wet, she was moaning louder than you were. Her tongue lolled out of her mouth, drool dripping along your breasts, her chipped nails digging into your waist as she continued. Her makeup was smudged, panting like a dog in heat. She was starving before you, patiently waiting for this moment. Hungry for your warmth. Waiting to make you hers. She looked down at your stretched out hole, slick noises coming from it as she fucked into you. “L-Look at you, taking me so well. So… s’fucking… mmh! Good!”
You knew that last part wasn’t praise, she was moaning out about how good she felt. It sounded like she was the one getting pounded into. She was greedy and desperate, face completely fucked out. You smirked, legs spreading wider, staring deep into her eyes. “Look at—mmh—me? Look at you. Such a mess even though I’m the one getting fucked.”
Jinx whined at your comment, face nuzzling into your neck, tongue grazing along your skin as she savored the salty taste of your sweat. “Been waitin’ on this for so long, I can’t—I can’t help it!” She mewed out, her voice cracking as her speed picked up. “You—You’re gonna fucking kill me, doll!”
Your fingers reached for the gun that laid beside you, wrapping your hand around it as you pointed it to her head. A smirk curled up on your face as Jinx’s eyes met yours, widened and full of shock. You bit your lip at the sight of her face, feeling a tightness growing at the bottom of your stomach, your moans increasingly getting higher.
“Are—Are you—scared?” You mocked, sentence choppy, finger shaking as it rested against the trigger. Jinx groaned out, cackling as she positioned the toy to hit nothing but the spot that made your toes curl. Your back arched, struggling to keep the gun held up, screaming out as she did so.
“Ah, ah, ah! You wanna be oh so big and bad? Keep the fucking gun on me, or I’ll pull out. I can tell you’re close.” She hissed, hand on your cheeks, forcing you to look at nothing but her. She had slobber on her jaw, hair sticking to her sweaty forehead, her whiny moans growing louder as you pressed the gun against her head harder. “You’re mine. You’re all fucking mine. Your—Your hole is mine, your body is mine, your mind is mine. Y-You’re—fucking—mine!”
You could feel your walls tightening around the toy, your body begging for release. Your thighs began to quiver underneath her, eyes watering up. “Everything is y-yours! All of me is yours, Jinx, everything! Please let me come. Let me fucking come, pleasepleaseplease!” You begged, hips bucking against the toy.
“Pull the trigger.” She demanded, trying her best to keep herself together. “C’mon, c’mon, c’mon, s’close…”
Your eyes widened a bit at her command, hand trembling, eyes darting towards the gun then back to her face as you hesitated. You knew Jinx’s weapons were always loaded, was she really that crazy? Her grip tightened on your face, moaning out in frustration. “Come on, do it for me, my favorite girl. Do it for me, make me come. Be a good girl, yeah? Pull the fucking trigger! Just—”
Click.
Your heart skipped a beat, holding your breath. The second her empty gun clicked, Jinx threw her head back, moaning your name out loudly as spurts of squirt escaped her cunt, the warmness spreading over your pussy. You stared in awe of the view, watching as she came before you. You reached your orgasm soon after, dropping the gun to wrap your arms around her neck and hold her close as cum gushed out of you and onto her strap. You scratched up her shoulders, bit into her skin, teeth sinking deep in her. She moaned out at the pain, making her orgasm ride out longer, fucking you slow and deep to draw yours out as well. She pulled out after, limp body laying on yours, panting as her head rested on your stomach. You laid there motionless, taking deep breaths as you played with her loose hair, staring at the wall in front of you.
You were speechless. You didn’t believe it was real, having sex with Jinx. You’d thought about it for so long, how could you possibly know if this was real or part of your imagination? You looked down at her, eyes closed as her other hand gripped onto your thigh. She’s real, right? You thought to yourself, finger poking at her cheek to get a reaction out of her. She opened one eye, whining at you. “Hey, what the hell?”
“S-Sorry.” You replied, still staring at her. She groaned, sitting up in front of you.
“What, cat got your tongue?” She teased, giggling a bit.
“No! Just…” You started, reaching over to grab onto her hand. “You’re real, right?”
Silence. Her eyes blinked a couple times before she let a cackle out, pulling you in closer to her face. “Oh, you bet I’m real, baby. You’re mine. I’m gonna make your life a living hell.”
You smiled, staring into the same violet eyes you’d fallen for a long time ago. Her response excited you more than the actual sex itself. “You promise?”
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