Gay and Alive unfortunately

Her body’s a show, and she’s naturally blue—head to toe. Her happy trail starts just under her navel, faint and dusty at first, then darker and denser the lower it dips. A soft, messy arrow that leads your mouth exactly where she wants it. She doesn’t shave for anyone—if she’s smooth, it’s because she felt like being smooth. But most of the time? She’s not bare; she trims just enough to see her length clearly, maybe cleans up the sides a bit. It’s not porn-slick, not fully wild either, just hers.

She’s not huge—just above average—but it’s so visually pleasing, fitting her body perfectly. It’s not thick enough to hurt unless she’s fucking you rough, but long enough to hit deep. Smooth, flushed, curved perfectly for grinding up against your spot when you’re on top, veins barely visible unless she’s really worked up. Her tip? A mess. Soft pink, always glossy with precum, sensitive to the point of being unreasonable, with a cute beauty mark sitting just off-center on the underside. Sometimes, when she’s sleepy and fucked-out, she’ll mutter, “D’you like her?” like her cock is a separate, precious thing she’s offering you.

You say yes, because it’s the kind of pretty that looks good ruined. And god, she’s so easy to ruin. You brush your thumb over the slit once and she gasps like you’ve electrocuted her. You suck on it and she jerks like she didn’t see it coming. Half the time she can’t look at you when you’re going down on her because it’s too much.

It’s that sensitivity that humbles her.

She wants to hold out for you. She wants to thrust deep and slow, make you fall apart like you’re the sensitive one. But you clench once, and her moans shoot up an octave. You ride her slow and tight, and she’s clawing at your hips, gasping, “fuckfuckfuck I’m gonna—” She pulls out halfway just to breathe, shuts her eyes like maybe if she doesn’t see you, she can reset. She grits her teeth and slows her hips even when her body’s screaming to chase it. “Okay…” she whispers, mostly to herself. “Okay, I’ve got it. I’m not gonna—not yet. I can hold it—fuck, don’t clench like that—”

She can’t hold it. She’s coming before you know it, messy and helpless. She always says she’s sorry, even when you’re still full and milking her through the aftershocks. But you love how easy it is to wreck her. How just a little pressure, a warm mouth, or the bare heat of your cunt can leave her shaking. She whimpers, begs, sobs into your shoulder… but she’s still thrusting. Because Jinx is hypersensitive, yet she never really learned how to hold back when it comes to wanting something. She gets lost in it, addicted. She just stays there, clinging to you, whispering, “Can I try again? I’ll last longer this time. Promise.”

And sometimes, she does. Sometimes, she lasts so long she’s shaking not from pleasure but from the effort of control, drunk off the high of it. “I did it,” she’ll mutter, dazed, one hand petting your thigh just to make sure you’re real, like it’s the prize she fought for. “Like, real talk—I fucking did it.” And then she laughs, breathy and giddy.

Raw is her favorite. Of course it is. She says it’s because she likes the heat—because condoms are annoying, because she wants to feel everything even if it’s too much sometimes—but it’s more than that. It’s about intimacy, connection, skin on skin. The feeling of being so deep inside you that you shudder when she moves. And she loves when her cum drips out after. She loves seeing it on your thighs, between your legs, knowing it was hers.

Because Jinx’s cock may be sensitive, but she knows how to use it when she lasts.

──ACT I : ᴘᴀᴛᴄʜᴏᴜʟɪ & ʟᴀᴠᴇɴᴅᴇʀ

It didn't end with a fight—that was the part you never quite learned how to explain, because people always expected one. They expected shouting, or slammed doors, or something sharp enough to justify the aftermath. Instead, it was something raw and unsteady, like a bridge collapsing too quietly beneath the both of you.

You had broken up at the end of August. It was a strange time to end something—too late to call it a summer breakup, too early for the seasonal loneliness people joked about. The windows were open, and the traffic murmured below while the cicadas buzzed. Somewhere down the block, someone was laughing too loudly, the sound drifting up through the heat like it had nowhere better to be. Jinx had spent most of the day on the living room floor, grease on her fingers, surrounded by half-built scraps and wire trimmings. She'd promised you you'd go out. Just for food, maybe drinks. Maybe even that movie you'd been talking about for weeks.

But one more adjustment turned into three, one test turned into five because of a little motor she couldn't get to run without burning out the coil, and the sun had already dipped behind the buildings before she even looked up, brain humming the way it always did when she was so close to figuring something out.

You had watched her for a long time before you spoke.

Jinx hadn't noticed at first. She was used to you orbiting her like that—quiet, patient, waiting for the right moment to interrupt. She was used to you leaning in doorframes, arms crossed, watching with that soft, unreadable expression that always made her feel steadier, somehow. Like whatever she was building mattered more because you were there to see it. She knew you had been quieter, more withdrawn. She'd chalked it up to stress, to the world being too heavy lately, to the natural ebb and flow of long relationships. You had been together for years, after all. Long enough that your routines had fused into something seamless. Long enough that Jinx couldn't remember a version of the apartment that didn't have your things woven into it: your books stacked unevenly on the nightstand, your shoes by the door, your presence filling in the gaps that she didn't even know she'd left. It wasn't casual. It wasn't experimental. It was one of those relationships that bloomed slowly, predictably, like something perennial—reliable in its return.

To Jinx, that was care.

She didn't say it out loud often, but she showed it in a thousand small, practical ways: letting you sleep while she stayed up late, fixing things before you noticed they were broken. Her work took up a lot of room in her life—too much, maybe—but it wasn't a replacement for you. It was just… part of her. The way her mind worked. The way she focused, disappeared into projects, surfaced hours later blinking and buzzing with energy.

She'd assumed you understood that.

Apparently, you had been unraveling quietly for months.

You had started feeling it in the small spaces first. In the way Jinx would promise you'd do something together "after this one thing," and then forget. In how plans became tentative. In how you were waiting for a future that never seemed to arrive—always promised in vague gestures, always postponed by another project, another late night, another just give me more time. You'd told yourself you were being dramatic. That this was just how long-term relationships worked. That wanting more didn't mean Jinx was giving less.

But the doubt had crept in anyway, like mold in the corners of your shared life. It sat with you when she stayed up all night working and forgot to come to bed. It followed you through the apartment when she nodded along to conversations she was only half listening to. It gnawed at you during quiet dinners, during long pauses, during moments that should have felt reassuring but didn't.

You had started to feel like you were waiting.

Waiting for her to slow down.

Waiting for her to notice.

Waiting for proof that all of this was going somewhere and not just looping endlessly in the same comfortable orbit, holding your breath for milestones you never quite reached.

You wanted a life that moved forward, and you were terrified that if you stayed, you'd wake up one day having waited yourself into nothing, loving Jinx forward into a future she wasn't sure she wanted.

By the time you finally did speak, you'd already made peace with the idea that she might not hear you the way you needed her to. That night, sitting on the edge of the couch, you hadn't meant to fall apart like that, with ugly, hiccupping sobs that made you fold in on yourself. You hadn't meant to cry so hard you gave yourself a headache. But it came out of you all at once—months of doubt, longing, and heartbreak condensed into one terrible statement:

"I don't think I can do this anymore."

The words were clumsy, cracked around the edges. They felt like betrayal, even to yourself. And Jinx—who'd always known how to fix a circuit board or a busted valve, who could probably rebuild an engine with her eyes closed if she tried hard enough—just… froze for a moment too long, helpless.

And then? It was panic. Pure, visceral panic. You watched it bloom in her eyes, wide and wild, like the world was cracking under her feet and she couldn't tell if it was your doing or hers. She stood up so quickly the tools clattered around her, hands twitching like she didn't know whether to reach for you or pull at her own hair, eyes scanning your expression like she could undo the last four seconds if she just looked at you hard enough. Oh, how she had shattered—it was like something detonated inside her. She didn't know what to say, so she started saying everything at once. Apologies and promises tangled in each other, her breath hitching, tone rising—not in anger, but in desperation. She had begged. Not with those exact words, but with the way her voice cracked, the way her knees hit the floor, the way she searched your face like it was the only map she'd ever learned how to follow.

She reached for you like she was falling.

You almost caught her.

But the truth was already out. And once it was, it didn't fit back into your chest the same way. You were already slipping away, heart in your throat.

You loved her. God, you loved her so much. And you had seen—clearly, finally—just how much she loved you, too. But you had also seen that it had taken this to shake her awake. By then, it wasn't about love anymore. It was about the months that stacked on top of each other, heavy with misunderstanding. About how many times you'd whispered I miss you into her shoulder while she nodded absently, half-asleep, thinking proximity meant peace. You told her you felt foolish for wanting certainty when she seemed content floating where you were. That you were scared of waking up one day and realizing nothing had changed—and never would. That she was elsewhere more often than not—inside her work, her machines, her endless cycle of building and breaking and soldering and solving. That maybe she just wasn't the type to fully commit.

Jinx had stared at you like you'd spoken in another language.

Commitment?

The word landed wrong—heavy and misplaced—because Jinx was committed. She'd never questioned that. Never once considered leaving. Never imagined a version of her life that didn't include you moving through it in quiet, constant ways. She had never called anything home the way she did you. She thought you knew that. Thought it was obvious in the way your lives had grown together—like two trees with twisted roots, not always pretty, but strong. She just hadn't known you were keeping score. She hadn't known you were spiraling silently, mistaking distraction for disinterest, absorption for avoidance.

When she tried to respond—tried to explain that she wasn't drifting away, that she was building things, planning things, thinking further ahead than you realized—it was already slipping out of her hands. None of that mattered when your bags were already packed in your mind, when you'd already mourned her a hundred times over.

You had moved out before summer fully turned, before autumn settled in properly, like you were racing the season itself—afraid that if you stayed long enough to watch the leaves fall, you'd lose your nerve. Jinx watched you go in pieces. She didn't chase, didn't argue anymore—because she didn't understand how something so fundamental could have been missed so completely. She stood in the doorway after you left, listening to the echo of your footsteps on the creaky stairs, and felt something unsteady crack open in her chest. Not anger—shock. Because from her point of view, this wasn't a relationship falling apart. It was one being abandoned mid-construction. She felt blindsided, like she'd been left behind by a future she hadn't even known was in danger.

Autumn came anyway. Leaves turned, air cooled, and time did what it always did—moved forward without checking if either of you was ready.

Jinx still lived in the apartment, in the space where you had last loved her, existed beside her. That shitty, cramped, too-blue thing you used to call home—half-leased, half-loved, fully haunted.

She told herself it was inertia, that it didn't make sense to uproot her life when everything else already felt unstable. The rent was cheap and manageable. The neighborhood was loud enough to drown out her thoughts when she cracked the window open. The location wasn't terrible, either—a corner store, a bar she liked within walking distance, her workshop. She'd gotten used to the squeaky plumbing and the warped floorboard in the hallway; she could live with it. It wasn't ideal, but what was? And yeah, maybe the couch still smelled like your perfume if she breathed in deep enough—jasmine and the end of something—but that wasn't why she stayed. Of course not. That would be pathetic.

It was just too much of a hassle to find a new place, that's all. Moving was expensive, exhausting. She'd do it eventually. She just hadn't gotten around to it; too busy with work, too many prototypes in progress, too many hours at the shop.

At least that's what she told Vi the last time she asked.

"You don't have to keep sleeping next to a grave just because it's rent controlled, y'know."

Jinx had flipped her off and changed the subject.

But at night, when the apartment went still and the radiator ticked like a slow bomb, she caught herself staring at the door you used to walk through—still half-expecting it to creak open, still hearing keys that weren't there. The space hadn't changed much. A few things have shifted out of place: less artwork, more dishes piling up in the sink, a dead houseplant in the corner because you weren't there to guilt her into watering it. But the bones of it stayed the same; your fingerprints were still everywhere, invisible and unbearable.

She had tried to clear you out of the space. She really had. She packed the shared mugs into a box. She deleted the playlists. She even threw away the heart-shaped magnets on the fridge. But somehow, you still lived there. In the grooves of the hardware floor, in the scuff mark on the wall from when you'd moved in the dresser together and Jinx insisted you didn't need to measure it first. In the nail by the door where your jacket used to hang—still there, bare and useless, but not forgotten. Her eyes still snagged on it every time she passed, like something unfinished tugging at her sleeve. In the mirror, sometimes, when she looked too long and thought she saw you—half behind her, just out of reach.

Three months gone, and the place was still soaked in you—a love fossilized mid-moment, preserved, like a museum of you. The longer she stayed, the more it began to rot in a way only she could feel. At least it was proof that somethind had lived… and then died between these walls. She missed you with a kind of ache that lived in her molars—deep, stubborn, gnawing.

But missing someone didn't fix what they broke.

You had moved out and on in the only way you knew how: by downsizing your life until it fit inside something manageable. Smaller space, fewer comforts, less room for doubt. But the guilt still bloomed in your throat like an overripe fruit whenever you saw a flash of blue hair on the street, or caught the sharp fizz of citrus and cherry from someone's perfume, or heard the noise a faulty lighter made when it clicked but didn't catch. You hadn't wanted to leave Jinx—you'd wanted her to see you. To choose you before you were already gone. To meet you halfway, to look up from her soldering iron or whatever gadget she was wrist-deep in and realize you were right there. And there were nights—quiet, blinking nights, when the world dulled and your spine curled like paper—that you'd whisper apologies into the pillow as if they could drift into her dreams. You never knew what exactly you were apologizing for: for leaving, for waiting so long to leave, for wanting her to fight for you and hating her for not getting the timing right?

Sometimes, you hated yourself more for hoping she still missed you—it felt selfish, really.

It didn't help that people kept saying dumb things like "You did the right thing," or "You had to protect your peace." They meant well, you knew that. But it felt like telling someone they'd done the right thing by cutting off their own arm—maybe it was true, but that didn't make it easy to live with the phantom limb.

And now you were here: not quite free, not quite sure, trying to build a new life around the outline of a wound.

Still, you told yourself this is what growth looked like.

Jinx told herself staying put meant nothing at all.

She spent September in that liminal space between sweat and sweaters, where the heat hadn't quite lifted—nor had her grief—but the light had already started dying earlier each day. She usually loved that time of year—the in-between, the slow dissolve, the promise of it all. She used to love watching the city molt, signs of summer fading like healing bruises. She loved the crispness creeping into the air, the way colors deepened; greens turning to gold, sidewalks freckled with leaves that looked like little burnt suns. But it didn't feel like a transition this time—it felt like loss, like a funeral with no procession.

She'd made it through October—Halloween—by getting high with strangers. Through November by simply pretending the holidays didn't exist, because everything felt like it was built for couples that time of year: pumpkin-scented candles, hands brushing under a shared umbrella, someone always laughing a little too close to someone else's ear. And by the time December arrived—real December, with its long nights, salt-stained pavements, and trees stripped bare like they'd finally given up the act—the distance between you felt vast. Winter had always been Jinx's least favorite season, but this one bit deeper, felt heavier. Every light on every balcony reminded her of the ones you'd strung together last year. Every store selling peppermint candles. Every ad playing some nostalgic song she used to hum into your neck when you were tangled together on the couch. It was like the world was mocking her with memories, ones she hadn't agreed to keep. You were still breathing the same cold air, just not together.

The snow, when it finally appeared, didn't fall so much as settle—like dust over forgotten furniture. It covered everything and softened the edges. She smoked out the window with the curtain drawn halfway, watching flakes catch in the warm streetlamp light and spiral down, like they were too tired to fall straight, with the kind of hard stare she usually reserved for her most difficult schematics; because she was just starting to notice how many of her habits didn't make sense anymore: still brushing her teeth quietly so she wouldn't wake someone who wasn't there, still leaving half the closet empty like it had a name attached to it.

The frost had come back, and you had not.

Inside, it was too warm.

Inside, it was still August.

Inside, it was still the night you left. Still the silence you left behind.

And when Jinx sat at the kitchen table, alone, running her thumb along the lip of a chipped mug, she thought—not for the first time—that missing someone who's still alive must be its own kind of death. Snow didn't cover that kind of damage—it only made it harder to see where it started.

Vi kept in touch with you. She didn't hide it. Didn't flaunt it, either—but Jinx wasn't an idiot. They'd known you for years, loved you long before Jinx ever kissed you. You weren't just hers—you were theirs. You were someone who'd been there through birthdays and hangovers and all the worst years of Vi's twenties. You'd been there for Caitlyn's first promotions, the blurry middle years where everyone was a little reckless and a little codependent and didn't know yet just how much they'd miss it. You'd laughed through bad decisions, held hair back over toilet bowls, made midnight snacks and 3AM phone calls and patched holes in more than one heart.

You weren't just Jinx's ex.

You were family.

So yeah, Vi still texted you. Still brought over takeout when you said you were too tired to cook. Still let you cry on her couch with the TV turned low and a blanket tucked over your knees while Cait handed you a mug—always warm, always calming—and looked the other way. Neither of them took any sides—but the loyalty cut both ways and left a trail.

And for Jinx, it came in the form of conversations gone sideways. Vi dropping updates like stones in water, small but heavy, sinking slow. Things Jinx didn't ask to hear and didn't want to hear.

That you were living in a shoebox of a studio now, above a closed-down laundromat in a part of town that ate hope for breakfast. That the heat was unreliable and the walls were so thin you knew your neighbors' schedule by heart. That you kept a space heater in the bathroom just to get through your morning routine, and sometimes it tripped the power.

That you were working two jobs—your regular one plus whatever seasonal retail shifts you could scrounge up—and your rent was still late more often than not, but you always said you were "managing." Whatever that meant. Whatever it cost.

That you looked tired. Not just in the way people say when they mean someone's not sleeping, but tired, down to the bone. The kind of tired that sinks into your posture and dulls your voice and makes you flinch when someone asks if you're okay, because the answer is so obviously no that the question feels almost cruel.

Jinx absorbed the information like a bruise she kept pressing just to make sure it still hurt. She carried each update like a pebble in her shoe—small enough to pretend she didn't feel it, painful enough to ruin every step.

And still, she kept walking. Because what else was there to do?

You'd left.

You'd left—and somehow, you still haunted every conversation she didn't know how to leave, because saying stop would mean admitting she was listening.

Jinx, for her part, never really talked about the breakup. Not with Vi. Especially not with Vi. Which was funny, in a way—if you squinted. Because Vi had always been the one person Jinx did talk to, even when she didn't want to. Even when the words came out as static, wrapped in sarcasm and smoke and whatever else she could weaponize to soften the landing.

Their relationship had never been clean. It had history, knots in the wood, fractures filled in with gold and guilt and effort. They'd spent years pushing each other away and then clawing their way back—fighting like enemies, loving like blood. They'd been in each other's pockets since childhood, but closeness didn't always mean comfort. Their bond was tight, yeah—but not always gentle. It came with long shadows, years of bruised egos, and the kind of loyalty you don't always want but can never shake. Some things still echoed if they opened the wrong doors in their minds.

Still, they always came home to each other.

That was the unspoken rule—family above everything.

And once they got their shit together—mostly—they'd found a rhythm again; something real and solid. Jinx had even warmed up to Caitlyn, in her own way. She balanced Vi out in ways that made Jinx feel like maybe her sister wasn't doomed to repeat every mistake twice. So, she started letting her in on the jokes. Started sitting through dinner instead of skipping out halfway. Started acting like she was part of it, because, well… she was.

Until the breakup.

Because after that, Jinx had pulled back. Not with malice, not with words. She just stopped showing up to things. Let texts go unanswered, let visits get shorter and shorter. She became all sharp edges again, like she was regressing—like the person she'd spent the last few years building had packed a bag and moved out alongside you.

And of course Vi had noticed. Vi always noticed when Jinx was bleeding, even if she didn't know where the wound was.

But she didn't push. Not at first, at least. She'd learned the hard way that pressing Jinx only made her disappear faster. She just kept inviting her anyway, kept sending dumb memes, kept asking how she was with a voice that was too gentle to bear.

It was worse because Vi had seen it. All of it.

She'd been there when Jinx and you had met. She'd watched you fumble through friendship and flirtation and something deeper, all under the same roof. She'd watched Jinx fall. Not gracefully, not quietly—but with all the devotion of someone who didn't know what to do with love except hand it over, palms open, teeth bared. She'd watched you build something out of that chaos. And now, she was watching Jinx pretend she hadn't wanted to spend forever in it.

And Jinx hated that—hated being witnessed, hated knowing there was someone walking around who knew just how hard she'd loved, and how thoroughly she'd been wrecked by it.

That was the thing no one really tells you about heartbreak: it makes you feel stupid.

Not just sad. Not just lost. Humiliated.

Like you were the last one to see the ship sinking. Like you kept patching holes while everyone else was climbing into lifeboats.

Jinx didn't want to explain that. Didn't want to sit across from her sister and say, She left, and I didn't see it coming. I thought we were okay. I thought I was building something. Didn't want to see Vi nod in that way she did—slow, knowing, full of pity Jinx would take as condescension even if it wasn't meant that way.

So, she said nothing.

She let Vi come and go. Let her linger in the doorway with groceries and good intentions. Let Caitlyn fill the silences with stories about work or neighborhood gossip—too polite to prod, too loyal to leave. Let them pretend everything was okay in the ways people do when they love someone too much to leave them alone.

And maybe that should've been the end of it. Just letting time pass. Letting everything settle into some dull, quiet ache that no one named directly. Letting the space grow between Jinx and the people trying to reach her, until even that started to feel normal. It was a quiet routine stitched together with secondhand care and the unspoken understanding that grief didn't like to be looked at directly.

It could've stayed that way.

Should've, maybe.

But Vi had never been particularly good at leaving things alone.

The idea came slow and stupid, like most of her ideas did. She brought it up in the middle of an otherwise uneventful Tuesday, while she and Caitlyn were making dinner—Cait at the counter, slicing carrots into uniform coins with her usual clinical precision, and Vi hovering near the fridge, brows furrowed, chewing the inside of her cheek like she was trying to spit out a thought.

"We could just… get them in the same room. See what happens."

"Vi."

That was all it took—just her name, clipped and careful, carrying the weight of a hundred previous disasters she had pitched in that same exact tone of voice.

"Cait."

That earned her the look, eyebrow arched just enough to make her point before she even opened her mouth, knife poised mid-slice. "That's a terrible idea."

"You don't know that."

"I know they’re adults," Caitlyn said patiently, like she was reasoning with a puppy who had just chewed the corner of the couch. "They're healing. Or at least trying to. You can't just trap your sister in a cabin with her ex and hope for a Christmas miracle.

"Why not?" Vi threw over her shoulder, tossing a handful of salt into the pot, the smugness already leaking into her voice. "Worked in that one movie. The British one."

"That was a romcom. And they weren't actively grieving each other like a pair of wounded animals."

"Okay, but think about it." Vi straightened, waving a spoon like it doubled as a compelling argument. "They haven't seen each other since August. It's December. That's months of radio silence and both of them are—what's the word—miserable."

Caitlyn turned back to the carrots, but her slicing slowed. That was all the confirmation Vi needed.

"And I mean, yeah, maybe it'll go badly," she continued. "But maybe it won't! Maybe they need to see each other to get closure. Or clarity. Or whatever."

"And you've appointed yourself… what, matchmaker?"

Vi grinned. "Facilitator."

"That's emotional entrapment," Caitlyn replied flatly.

"It's a cabin, not a hostage situation."

"It's misleading."

"It's neutral territory."

"Manipulative."

"Helpful."

"Borderline unethical."

Vi finally sighed, drifting closer under the pretense of helping, and stole a slice of carrot straight off the board. She barely got it between her fingers before Caitlyn slapped her hand away with a sharp tsk.

"Look," Vi said, undeterred, wiping her fingers on her sweatpants, "it's not fixing. It's… reminding. They've been apart long enough to forget how good they were. Maybe seeing each other again shakes something loose."

"And what if it doesn't?"

"Then they'll leave the cabin a little more sure."

"Or a little more broken."

Caitlyn didn't raise her voice. She rarely did. But her words were soaked in something firmer than logic—care disguised as discipline. The kind of concern that believed caution was a form of love.

Vi paused. Let the space stretch. The only sound was the stove ticking and the faint hiss of something simmering.

"You didn't see them when they were happy," she said eventually. "Not the early days before everything got so damn complicated."

"Vi–"

"I'm not saying they have to get back together." She turned then, earnest, almost pleading. "I'm saying… I don't want to watch them rot alone when they don't have to. And we already talked about getting away for the holidays. Just a few of us, no pressure. If they both happen to show up–"

"Coincidence," Caitlyn supplied dryly.

"Exactly!"

"You do understand," she said, finally setting the knife down with deliberate grace, "that meddling like this could backfire." Her tone was too even, too polite—neutral in that unmistakably not neutral way Caitlyn always used when she was testing a theory she'd already proven.

"I've backfired harder," Vi replied, huffing a breath that might've been a laugh.

Caitlyn didn't respond right away. She reached for her tea instead, wrapping both hands around the ceramic, letting the warmth sink into her fingers while she considered, staring through the kitchen window fogging at the corners. Her gaze drifted to the frost webbing across it—fine and lacy, like the delicate porcelain her mother used to display but never let her touch. Outside, the winter dusk started settling in, dimming the light in a way that felt almost staged, like the world was backing away to give her space to think. Vi knew that look. That quiet resistance—not rejection, just… the slow, methodical grinding of logic. She shifted her weight like someone who expected a blow but wasn't willing to step back from it.

"They're adults, Vi," Caitlyn repeated at last, quiet but unwavering, each word slow and chosen carefully. She could sense the familiar discomfort settling in her chest—the one that always came when empathy threatened to overstep principle. "It isn't our job to intervene."

"I know," Vi replied with a weary sigh, not even pretending to argue this time. "I know it's not."

"And you can't want this just because you're tired of watching them suffer."

"What's wrong with that?" There it was—the flicker of something unguarded in her voice. The kind of vulnerability she usually covered with a joke or a punch. It was brief, but Cait made it out like a pulse beneath the words.

She exhaled slowly, setting the mug down. She felt it again—that tug of guilt-tinged affection. Vi was trying to do something kind, and misguided, and deeply human. And Caitlyn, in her endless pursuit of being just, was starting to feel like the only cold thing left in the room.

It's wrong, she reminded herself. It undermines their agency.

And agency? Autonomy? She believed in them above all else. She'd grown up in rooms where decisions were made quietly and handed down like favors. In a house where doors opened because of names, not merit. She was a Kiramman—her path had been paved before she could walk it, where expectations pressed in from every direction, gilded and suffocating. Daughter of a Councilwoman. Educated in the finest schools. Measured in posture and posture alone. Caitlyn had spent the majority of her life carving space for herself with her bare hands—refusing shortcuts, refusing strings, refusing to be ushered anywhere she hadn't earned. She'd wanted choice and independence, the dignity of deciding your own future.

And now, Vi was asking her to undermine that very thing for two people already stripped raw by heartbreak.

The thought made her stomach twist.

"It's their grief to navigate. Not ours. You can't just swoop in with a winter cabin and hot chocolate and trick them into reconciling if they're not ready. You can't orchestrate healing like a… like a dinner party."

Vi smiled faintly at that. "Could be a messy dinner party," she offered. "With yelling and passive-aggressive gingerbread houses."

"Vi."

"I'm joking."

"You're not, and I don't know if I can be okay with this." Cait's voice didn't crack, but something in it hollowed out. "I've spent my whole life trying to make sure no one else made choices for me. What gives me the right to make one for them?"

Vi pushed off the counter then, crossed to the sink in a few strides like it gave her a reason to walk away. She fiddled with a stray spoon, rinsed it even though it was already clean. The kitchen, once cozy with clinking dishes and simmering broth, felt still now, almost solemn. Her voice was softer when she spoke again.

"I just want them to breathe again. I don't want to force anything, I just… want to give them something. That's it."

It sounded so simple. It wasn't. Caitlyn should've stood firm. She wanted to stand firm. That was her role, after all. The one who made sure the plans had backup plans. The one who asked the hard questions. The one who thought about consequences before emotion.

And this—whatever this was Vi wanted—reeked of emotion.

Cait had told herself she wasn't going to get tangled in someone else's heartbreak—not Jinx's, not yours, not again. You were two grown women, however messily you had handled your endings. It wasn't right to drag you together under false pretenses just because you used to be happy. That wasn't love—that was nostalgia in disguise. She didn't want to be a part of this. Truly, she didn't. She'd spent her entire career trying to do things the right way, the honest way, the ethical way. But when she watched Vi's back, shoulders hunched ever so slightly under the weight of hope she didn't know how to let go of, she felt herself shift. Just a little, or maybe just enough. Because Vi didn't hope often. She'd seen too much, been through too much. Hope wasn't a luxury she often reached for. But when she did?

God help Caitlyn, it was contagious. And wasn't that what love did to people? Made fools of the reasonable. Made conspirators out of those who once preached patience. Her moral compass pointed due north; but what was north when you were standing between two broken people and the person you loved was right there, asking you to bend just this once? She felt it now—reluctant, but real. A delicate thread of maybe.

Maybe there was a version of this that didn't end in disaster. A brief window cracked open, should either of you feel like breathing through it. A chance, however foolish, for softness. Maybe it was… 'facilitation.' She felt absurd for even entertaining it, but she didn't shut the door on the thought. She just let it sit there, even if they didn't decide that night. The conversation settled into the walls, unresolved, like steam rising from the stove—there, but not acknowledged, lingering in the air long after the dishes were done and the lights were off. And when Caitlyn climbed into bed that night, she stared at the ceiling longer than usual, moral boundaries looping themselves into knots behind her eyes.

But in the morning, she emerged from the bedroom with her robe cinched tight, laptop already balanced on one arm while Vi hummed low in the kitchen. The screen glowed pale blue in the weak winter light, two cabin listings open side by side. One had a vintage fireplace and wood-paneled walls. The other promised a lake view and a hot tub. Both looked like the kind of place people went to try again. Both boasted "board games and complimentary mulled wine."

Ridiculous.

And yet…

She didn't say a word—just slid the laptop across the table between half-eaten toast and a jar of marmalade.

Vi stared. First at the screen, then at her. She blinked, grinned, and sat up straighter with something bright blooming behind her ribs. For a moment, her expression softened into something warmer than surprise—something close to awe. "You serious?"

"I'm still not convinced," Cait said, rubbing her temples. "But I'd rather be a part of it than let you do it wrong on your own."

"You're the best morally conflicted co-conspirator I've ever had," Vi murmured, reaching across the table to kiss her brow, lips warm from coffee.

She rolled her eyes but let it happen. "If this ends in tears," she muttered, "I reserve the right to say I told you so over the wreckage."

"As long as you say it with wine."

"There will be plenty of wine."

And when she stood to refill the kettle, Vi caught the smallest smile curling at the edge of Caitlyn's mouth. The kind that said that maybe she missed the two of you together, too.

Vi drafted the invitations like she was diffusing a bomb. Not because the words were explosive, exactly, just… heavy and coiled, carrying more weight than they looked like they should. She sat on the couch, phone tilted low in her hand, blanket pulled around her legs. The glow of her phone screen lit up her face in the darkening afternoon like something sacred—or incriminating.

"Alright," she murmured under her breath, adjusting her grip like she was about to pick a lock. "Let's do this."

Across the room, Caitlyn sat at her desk by the window, pretending—poorly—not to watch. She scrolled through a series of open tabs, making notes in neat bullet points: cabin arrival instructions, a list of nearby shops in case they forgot something essential, holiday activity ideas (Vi had insisted on sledding, of all things), and a running list of movies that wouldn't make anyone cry too hard. She was nothing if not thorough, but it was mostly busy work—a way to feel useful while her girlfriend crafted emotional landmines beneath a blanket cocoon and hoped for the best. The apartment was quiet except for the soft clatter of a keyboard and the explosions from the action movie playing low in the background, but the occasional side-eye was practically audible.

"Stop judging me," Vi muttered without looking up.

"I'm not," Caitlyn replied evenly. "You're doing a perfectly good job of that on your own."

Vi smirked, sucked in a breath through her nose, and hit delete on an unfinished draft. "Fair."

Each message had to be short. Friendly, warm, but not too warm. They had to be simple. Casual enough to pass for genuine and believable. She opened Jinx's contact first—easier target, familiar terrain—then hunched deeper into her blanket fort.

to: blue booger 💣 [5:08PM]

yo. me n cait are renting a cabin in the mountains for xmas. nothin fancy, just a break from the city. us, snow, quite

quiet*

no pressure, but would mean a lot if you came. think about it yeah? unless you're too cool for snowball fights now

Send.

Then, she opened your thread and immediately felt her stomach lurch—this part felt worse. This was where the nerves kicked in.

to: lil sis 2.0 🧸 [5:13PM]

hey you! me n cait booked a cabin for the holidays. quit place, hot cocoa vibes, the works

quiet*** fml

anyway. i know you said you didn't have any plans and we would love to have you. please say yes?

Then, she paused and bit the inside of her cheek. She almost mentioned Jinx. Almost wrote something like she's not coming or you won't run into her, but stopped herself. If she planted the idea, you would sniff out the bait. Better to say nothing, let you think what you wanted.

She hit send before she could hesitate again. The moment the last message left her screen, she flopped sideways on the couch and groaned, dragging the blanket over her face like it could shield her from karma. "I'm going to hell," she mumbled, muffled by wool.

"For lying?" Caitlyn asked mildly.

"For lying to both of them."

Cait didn't even look up from her planner. "It's a scenic route. You'll enjoy the ride."

Meanwhile, Jinx was at the workshop, hood deep in the guts of a sputtering space heater someone had left outside and then remembered they needed once the weather turned. There was grease on her wrist, a spare part between her teeth, and her playlist was humming in the background. When her phone buzzed on the workbench, she almost didn't check it; it was curiosity that nudged her. When she wiped her hands on the back of her overwashed cargo pants and glanced over, Vi's contact name blinked up at her like an ember. She opened the message, eyes flicking across the screen, and by the time she reached "too cool for snowball fights," she was already smirking.

"Too cool my ass."

She read it once. Then again, letting the words roll in.

A cabin.

Snow.

Christmas.

Her immediate reaction was ugh. Of course Vi would go full snowglobe. Of course she had roped Caitlyn into something that sounded like a tourism board ad for a small-town charm—stupidly cozy and rustic. Jinx could already picture it: full of ugly sweaters, pine needles, and the kind of conversations that got people crying into their glasses of cider. It was the kind of trip where people wore flannels and pretended to enjoy puzzles. The kind of trip where they drank cinnamon tea and said things like it's nice to unplug. If there weren't any sleigh bells involved, she'd be shocked. She started to scoff aloud, but the sound never left her mouth fully. Her eyes lingered on the phrase "would mean a lot." It wasn't Vi's usual way of asking for something. Not a push, not a demand; just a quiet offering that tugged somewhere soft.

The wrench in her hand suddenly felt heavier. She set it down, brushed a strand of blue hair behind her ear with the back of her knuckle, and stared at the phone again as she sat down on the nearest stool.

Well… been a while.

And she missed Vi, even if she hadn't said as much. She missed sitting around the kitchen table while Caitlyn made something fancy and Vi dumped hot sauce on it anyway. She missed arguing over board games she pretended to hate but secretly crushed at. She missed what normal used to look like before everything slipped sideways and the silence got so damn loud again.

She typed back slowly.

real postcard shit

what's the catch?

Her sister responded within seconds, like she'd been waiting.

fat hands 🥊 [5:18PM]

no catch. just wanna hang. swear

so… jinxmas 2.0? you need a break

And maybe Jinx did. Maybe she needed to let herself be around real people again, not customers who grunted thank you after hours-long fixes and coworkers who thought "you good?" was viable small talk. Maybe it was time to stop licking old wounds like they were going to heal differently the hundredth time around.

sounds stupid. i'm in

ur lucky i like snow

and u sometimes. i guess.

Then, after a second:

DONT expect me to sing carols.

Vi's reply came in the form of a red heart emoji and a snowman.

You read your message hours later, standing in the fluorescent glow of the convenience store where you'd picked up a closing shift. It was almost 10PM, and the humming of the overhead lights mingled with a sad pop song playing on the radio. Your feet were hurting, your sweater reeked of capitalism, and your phone buzzed in your back pocket long before you swiped it open absently between stocking shelves, expecting a reminder about rent or a work update.

What you didn't expect was Vi, even if you still occasionally texted. It always caught you off guard—like hearing from a cousin after a divorce. You weren't sure if you were still allowed to belong.

You opened the message with a soft exhale.

The words were simple enough, but your chest tightened anyway. A cabin for Christmas? A soft, warm place with wood-paneled walls and the kind of quiet company that didn't make you feel like an inconvenience just for existing? God, you missed that. You missed them—Vi, Caitlyn, their weird little family dinners and inside jokes and the way they made space for you without asking for anything in return. Still, your thumb hovered, because your first instinct was suspicion. Not at Vi—Vi didn't lie. Not about important things. But…

are you sure Jinx is okay w/ me coming? wouldn't she be there?

There—you said it. The question felt too exposed, too vulnerable, even typed out. Three agonizing dots appeared, and it took less than a minute for the response to come through, guilt already curling like frost behind Vi's ribs:

uncle vi 🥸 [9:54PM]

nah. said it's too hallmarky for her lol you know how she is

Your heart stuttered at that, staring at the message longer than necessary.

Jinx isn't going?

That should've made this easier. Somehow, it didn't. You were grateful, maybe—relieved in the practical sense. No confrontation, no risk of reopening things you'd spent the last few months trying to bury. You didn't have to worry about saying the wrong thing or looking too long across the room. And yet, something in you sagged quietly, like a house with a crooked beam. You'd never admit it, but a part of you—one you hated—had hoped. Not for some grand reunion, not even to talk, just… to see her. Prove that she was still real, that you'd existed, that you hadn't just come undone and drifted out of each other's orbit forever. Instead, there would just be… snow. Pine trees. Vi and Caitlyn and a fireplace.

In theory, it wasn't a bad offer.

You checked the clock above the register. Still another two hours on shift. Still another week until Christmas. Still another thousand things you hadn't unpacked in your chest when it came to her. When you looked down again, Vi had already followed up with a link—a rental listing, snow-covered and absurdly charming, with candles on the windowsill, smoke curling from a crooked chimney, and a winding path leading toward the forest. It looked like the kind of place where everything bad could—at least for a moment—be left outside.

uncle vi 🥸 [9:57PM]

🛷⛄️🎄 (festive coercion)

just thought you might want some company. you deserve that

You exhaled slowly, staring at the screen until your eyes went out of focus. It would be nice, wouldn't it? To see someone for the holidays. To not pretend you were fine while watching bad TV reruns alone in your cold apartment, nursing a bowl of lukewarm soup. Maybe you could do this, just for a few days; just to be somewhere that didn't ache like loneliness dressed up in festive garlands.

okay. i'd love to be there

thank you for thinking of me :)

Vi responded with a gif of someone sledding into a tree. You managed a quiet laugh under your breath, smiling in spite of yourself.

Still, something lingered. You stared past your reflection in the window, out onto the streets. The snow was staring to fall again—thin at first, the kind that doesn't stick but whispers of what's coming. A few bundled-up kids raced with armfuls of cheap gift bags, laughing too loud while their tired-looking parents struggled to keep up. The city hadn't changed, but you had. Or maybe you hadn't at all, and that was the problem. Because even now, with months between you and the echoes of your last conversation still looping in your ears, you cared. And your mind—a traitorous thing—drifted to her. Jinx, in your old apartment—her apartment nowadays—alone with nothing but leftover takeout and the buzz of her tools for company. The image made you feel sick, and your fingers were moving again before you could stop yourself.

is she really gonna be alone for christmas?

The typing dots returned, then disappeared, then returned again.

uncle vi 🥸 [10:03PM]

says she wants it that way

but we'll drop by after, promise won't let her go ghost mode forever

You nodded to yourself, even though no one was watching.

She'll be okay, you told yourself.

But even as you went back to restocking the lighters with shaky hands, something inside you didn't quite believe it.

"How much longer?" Jinx’s voice pierced the quiet from the backseat, like a fork scraping a plate, chin propped dramatically in her hand as if the journey had already stolen years off her life.

"Twenty minutes," Vi replied, not even glancing away from the road.

"You said that twenty minutes ago."

"No, I said forty," her sister replied evenly. "Time moves, Jinx. Wild, I know."

Jinx made a displeased sound and went back to squinting out the window. They'd been driving for a while now, leaving the main roads behind somewhere past a diner with peeling signs and entering deep postcard territory. Somewhere back there, cell signal had tapped out, too. Caitlyn tried to be optimistic about it, announcing it was "good to unplug," at which Jinx had dramatically rolled her eyes and muttered called it under her breath.

The road carved its way through half-asleep forests, stretching ahead into a horizon wrapped in fog—gray sky thick with snowclouds, Tamaracks standing tall and stripped bare except for the ones stubborn enough to cling to their needles, the hum of tires soft against salted asphalt. The world beyond the windshield looked dipped in powdered sugar by the time they turned off the last recognizable highway. Inside the car, it was almost too warm. A low hum of heat pulsed through the vents, running long and high enough to start fogging the windows at the corners. The scent was a mix of Vi's cheap patchouli air freshener and Caitlyn's lavender hand cream, clashing in a way that was stupidly comforting.

Vi was driving with one hand on the wheel, the other resting lazily along the bottom, fingers twitching to music Jinx had refused to connect her phone for.

"Not everything has to be a punk's wet dream," her sister teased casually. "It's Christmas. Let Mariah have her moment."

"It was Gorillaz," Jinx grumbled in reply, knees up against the back of the passenger seat, nudging it just enough to make her presence known.

Caitlyn, always the diplomat, had taken charge of directions—phone in her lap where the route pulsed in pale blue, voice calm and measured as she relayed the next turn or noted an upcoming stop. Occasionally, she reached over to adjust the heater or pass Vi a sip of coffee from their shared thermos. Jinx didn't miss the way they moved around each other—comfortable, practiced, familiar. There was a kind of choreography to it: Vi humming under her breath, Cait tapping her fingers on her thigh in time and looking over every now and then, like she was checking if Vi was still hers.

Jinx watched from the backseat through half-lidded eyes, her bottom lip caught loosely between her teeth. It wasn't jealousy, but it scraped against something inside her—aching and brittle around the edges. Not because she didn't want them to be happy—she did—but because she remembered what it felt like to be that synced up with someone. The shared language of glances. The dumb little rituals that only made sense to the two of you.

She'd had that once.

Now, she had the window.

"Remind me why I agreed to this again?" she asked, just loud enough to be heard.

"Because you love me," Vi tossed back, not bothering to hide the grin in her voice.

"Debatable," Jinx replied with a grimace, nudging the seat again.

The silence stretched, save for the occasional "Left up ahead," or "Do you think that gas station has decent snacks?" Cait's voice was always a soft kind of anchor—clear and kind and maddeningly unbothered. Vi, bless her, didn't push. But Jinx caught her glancing in the rearview mirror sometimes, eyes flicking up like she was checking on a sulky teenager in the backseat of a family vacation they didn't want to be on.

"Don't pout," Vi said eventually, after a long patch of road with nothing but trees.

"I'm not pouting," Jinx replied automatically, not even looking up.

"Your sighs are fogging up the windows."

"I'm breathing."

"You're brooding."

Caitlyn cut in gently, without looking away from the road ahead. "You didn’t have to come if you're not feeling up to it, Jinx."

That got her to lift her head. "I'm already here, aren't I?"

Cait gave a little hum in response. "Then try to enjoy it. If only for the view."

Jinx pressed her temple to the glass, letting her breath cloud it again. "Yeah. Throw blankets and snowmen," she muttered. "Real scenic."

"See? She looked at the pictures," Vi whispered loudly, feeling half-amused and half-victorious. "She brought her slippers, too."

"You went through my bag?!”

"You left it open on the floor. Rookie move."

Caitlyn smiled faintly, leaning over and brushing snow off the windshield with a flick of the wipers. "At least pack some dignity with you next time."

Jinx muttered something incoherent and retreated deeper into her hoodie, zipping it up to her chin and slouching further. She put the hood up, tucking her blue hair loosely beneath it. Neither of them reacted; not because they were ignoring her, but because they knew better. Jinx in moods like this was like a thunderstorm without the lightning—gray and heavy, but not ready to break yet. It would pass, eventually. In the meantime, Vi reached for Caitlyn's hand on the center console and gave it a small, grounding squeeze.

Jinx caught it and looked away again.

Not jealousy. Just… a memory wearing someone else's coat.

"You two are disgusting, by the way," she groaned, picking at a loose thread in her sleeve.

"Excuse me?" Caitlyn looked behind her shoulder, startled, like she wasn't sure if it was a genuine insult.

"All this lovey dovey shit." Jinx made an exaggerated gag and threw her head back for effect, tongue poked out.

"Aw, she noticed."

Jinx grinned, small and crooked, before giving a single middle finger in the rearview mirror. Caitlyn snorted softly under her breath. She finally seemed to catch the playfulness behind the barbs—realizing, maybe, that this was Jinx's version of affection. Or, at the very least, her version of not being a total porcupine.

"How much longer now?" she asked again, noting the way Vi exhaled through her nose.

"Fifteen."

"You're lying."

"She's not. We're almost at the turn-off."

Jinx's cheek rested against the cool window, watching the landscape blur. She barely blinked, eyes tracking the way the snow chased itself across the road, a few brave flakes clinging to the glass before melting away. Somewhere in the distance, a creek ran beneath the ice, barely visible through the trees. There were no streetlights out there, no neon buzzing over storefronts; she hadn't realized how far they'd gone until now. She dragged a finger through the fog on the pane, drawing nothing recognizable before it faded again.

"How long?" she asked, softer this time, almost sleepy.

"Ten minutes."

"That's suspiciously round," Jinx huffed.

"You want me to give you decimals?"

"Yes."

"Fine. Nine minutes and forty seconds."

"Better."

She shifted for what had to be the hundredth time, hoodie bunching at her neck as she dropped her head against the window once more. A family passed them in a beat-up SUV, kids pressed to the glass and making faces at her as they went. She stuck her tongue out in response, lazy and half-hearted, before rolling onto her side like a cat in protest. She yanked at her seatbelt like it had personally wronged her, snapping it taut like a leash. It caught awkwardly against her collarbone no matter how she angled herself, and she twisted in her seat like a restless animal trying to get cozy in a cage too small. She flailed a few minutes longer—desperately and with increasing violence—before wriggling back into some loose approximation of comfort.

"I can't feel my ass anymore," she whined, completely slumped, her limps draped like a marionette with cut strings. "Are we—"

"Five minutes," Cait said preemptively, noting the arrival time.

Jinx perked up, suddenly more alert, heart beating a little faster than she wanted to admit. "Actually?"

"Yes."

"Swear?"

"Yes."

She leaned forward with renewed purpose, bracing her hands on the back of the front seats, peering out between them like a curious creature. "You better not be lying."

Ahead, the trees began to thin, pinpricks of light appearing through the branches—porch lights glowing a warm amber against the cold-white snow, windows lit like softened stars. They rounded a bend, and suddenly, the small town appeared below them, tucked into the valley like a well-kept secret. It looked unreal, like someone had shaken up a snowglobe and set it on the dashboard. A child was pulling a sled across the street, laughter muffled by a scarf.

"Oh," Caitlyn exhaled, voice thick with awe.

Even Vi had to admit—quietly, to herself—it was beautiful.

Jinx didn't speak. She just stared, arms still hooked over the seats while her fingers loosened slightly, something unreadable softening her usually sharp eyes. It wasn't that she was sentimental—though she was. She just hadn't expected it to look this… peaceful. She watched as they passed a tiny bookshop with a candle in every window, a coffee shop where someone was sweeping snow off the stoop, a dog in a puffy coat and booties trotting behind its owner.

Vi turned onto a narrower road, flanked by tall pine trees and occasional mailboxes half-buried in snow. The tires crunched over packed slush, and the headlights swept across a hand-painted wooden sign that read: Powder Pines — CABINS 1-4.

They pulled into a gravel drive that looked untouched except for the occasional deer track. A two-stories cabin stood ahead, the wrap-around porch strung with fairy lights and smoke curling steadily from the chimney like a welcome sign. A split log sat near the steps, a basket of freshly chopped firewood beside it. Icicles framed the windows, and someone—most likely the rental owner—had already shoveled the path to the door.

Vi turned off the ignition. The engine quieted, and for a moment, the silence outside was deafening.

"…So who wants to be the first to get murdered in the hallmark horror reboot?" Jinx asked, deadpan.

"Not it," Vi said, immediately grabbing the keys and opening the door.

The heat vanished from the car within seconds. The cold bit at their skin as they stepped out, breaths fogging in the air. The scent of pine hit them first—real pine, not candle-fake—and under it, the subtle smell of wet bark and woodsmoke. Vi had already rounded the back to pop the trunk while Cait came around the other side, scarf tight around her neck, fingers red from the sudden drop in temperature. Jinx simply spun once before kicking snow onto her sister's jeans.

She yelped, tossing a glove at her. "Cut it out and help with the bags."

"Could we please not freeze to death while squabbling?" Caitlyn interjected, already shivering.

"Fine," Jinx muttered, dragging herself toward the trunk and grabbing the first duffel she could reach, slinging it over her shoulder like it weighted nothing.

The walk up to the cabin was short, maybe a dozen steps or so, but it felt like a slow unveiling. There was a handmade wreath on the door; spruce, dried oranges, and cinnamon sticks all bound together with a plaid ribbon. She hesitated at the foot of the stairs, snow crunching beneath her boots, and Vi, halfway up the porch, looked back.

"C'mon. It's warm inside."

"Sure it's not cursed?"

Caitlyn turned the key in the lock and pushed the door open, the smell of warm spices and something sweet like mulled wine lingering in the air while the heat rushed out in a wave. "It's even better in person," she noted, visibly pleased.

"God, that's way better," Vi groaned, stomping snow off her boots and stepping inside like she owned the place—which, she did, for the next few days at least.

Jinx followed slowly, gaze darting everywhere at once. The cabin was beautiful, she couldn't deny it: open-beamed ceilings, soft rugs layered on polished wood floors, and a fireplace waiting to come alive. A massive couch dominated the center of the room, draped with patchwork blankets. On the mantel, someone had arranged tiny carved animals around candles while a stack of board games sat on a side table. The kitchen gleamed just off to the right, copper pots hanging above a neat row of dried herbs like something out of a magazine.

"Gross," she whispered, stepping inside, eyes already skimming the walls. "It's like Pinterest came."

There were framed pictures all around: landscapes, a few vintage ski photos, one of a husky in a santa hat. She caught her reflection in the hallway mirror—hood still up, hair a little wild and frizzy, face a little pale and freckled. She looked like a stray cat just let into a stranger's house.

But she was here. She hadn't bolted… yet.

She made a show of dropping her bag with a dramatic thump before slouching into the couch with a long sigh, kicking her boots off with loud thuds. Her feet, in ridiculous mismatched socks, curled into the blanket piled at one end of the cushions, and she let herself feel it—the warmth soaking into her bones, the way the tension in her shoulders loosened.

Caitlyn peeled off her coat and set it carefully on the rack, then busied herself unpacking a bag of groceries they had bought beforehand. She moved with practiced ease, placing things in the cupboards like she already knew where everything would live for the next few days. Vi hovered nearby, rubbing her hands together from the cold, looking like she was about to help when her phone buzzed in her pocket, breaking the moment. She fished it out without thinking, and the message lit up the screen.

lil sis 2.0 🧸 [4:36PM]

just finished my shift! gonna catch the 6:30 bus so i should be there by 9ish :)

sorry i couldn't ride up w/ you guys :( hope it's not too weird i'm coming alone

Vi's heart did a little flip—the kind that held nerves and excitement in the same beat. She didn't know what to write back at first, because the truth was… you not coming up with them had been the biggest gamble in this whole plan. If you'd finished work early… if you'd asked for a ride… if you so much as texted her the night before and said, "Mind picking me up on the way?" Everything would've crumbled before it even began. She couldn't have said no—not without giving the whole thing away, anyway. And that would've meant you walking into the car and seeing Jinx in the backseat. It would've meant boom, done, game over, everybody go home.

not weird at all!!! can't wait to see you travel safe yeah?

She hit send, then stood still a moment longer, phone slack in her hand. Behind the counter, Caitlyn turned just slightly, glancing at her out of the corner of her eye. There was no question in the look, just that subtle tilt of her brow, the flicker of expectation. Vi didn't say anything—she just turned her phone so her girlfriend could see the message.

Cait read it with a slow inhale, her fingers pausing on a box of tea she was lining up. A shared understanding passed between them like a secret handshake in a silent language: It's happening. They're really going to be in the same room together. She turned back to the cupboard and resumed unpacking, but her motions were just a little more deliberate now.

"Why do you two look like you just got away with murder?"

Jinx's voice cut through the silence, casual in that sharp way that meant I'm watching you.

Cait froze mid-step, holding a packet of hot cocoa like it had suddenly become evidence. "We don't!" she exclaimed—too fast, too cheery. It was the kind of tone that only made the guilt ring louder.

Jinx narrowed her eyes, still planted on the couch with her arms crossed loosely across her chest like she couldn't be bothered. She didn't move, just stared at them—through them—from across the room, head tilted slightly in that feline way she had when she sensed bullshit, attentive enough to show that she was filing it all away for later.

Vi—who was far better at this—recovered with a mild shrug, barely blinking. "We're just tired," she offered, wiping her palms down the thighs of her jeans. "Long drive, y'know?"

The words were fine. The delivery was fine. It was everything around it that wasn't.

They held each other's gaze long enough to feel the shift, the silence between them deceptively light. Jinx's mouth twitched. It wasn't quite a smile—more like recognition, something settling into place.

"Right," she replied flatly, stretching the word just long enough to show she didn't buy it.

The suspicion had landed.

The radar was pinging.

She hadn't cracked it yet, but the match had been struck. She could smell the lie burning, faint and acrid beneath all the central heating.

And once you smell smoke? You don't stop looking for the fire.

you had been gone for at least a month now, away with Leon investigating an unknown group that had appeared in Raccoon City after you all left months ago. she worried about you so much, just as much as she missed you. she was sitting on the soft bed of you and her as heavy night rain pattered against the window, reminding her of the countless other nights where you were at home. cuddling grace tightly in your deep sleep as the bright light from her laptop kept her awake. the spot beside her was empty, with no arm wrapped her stomach and no warm cheek resting against her chest as she typed away. your scent was starting to fade from your clothes and bedsheets now, and grace was finding it harder and harder each night to cuddle a pillow that only smelled like detergent. she couldn't focus. she wanted to hear your voice. how you were doing. she wished you could call everyday, but you tried to call at least once a week. you hadn't called yet.

she sighed and closed her laptop, leaving it on the nightstand under the warm light of the bedside lamp. she was wearing one of your jumpers that she sprayed with your favourite perfume. she put it on for comfort, but now she had just been getting distracted all evening. she needed to focus and get her report for the week done. but how could she when your scent enveloped her? bringing her back to the night before you left? when you whispered sweetness mixed with filth right by the shell of her ear, tickling the skin and giving her goosebumps up her neck as your hips slowly filled her up, teasing her into a blushing mess beneath you.

she rummaged through your shared wardrobe where you kept the toys, pulling out her favourite dildo that you used on her. she kicked off her pj pants and panties, laying back on the plush pillows. your praise and pet names circled around in her mind as she circled her aching clit, the ribbing of the silicone softly dragging the sensitive skin. she bit her lip and closed her eyes, trying to quiet her mind and focus on the image in her head. one of you between her legs, instead of the toy she was teasing herself with. it slipped between her shiny folds, a mix between her own wetness and lube. her hips slowly bucked up and down as she savoured the steadily rising pleasure. her stress about her report was long forgotten, replaced only by her need for you. she whimpered into your jumper, the fabric muffling the sweet sound. she imagined how you would've snaked your hands up her hips and stomach, scraping her softly with your nails before cupping her tits. squeezing them like stress toys as your warm tongue made her legs shake.

she slipped the toy inside with a gasp. she squeezed her eyes even further, trying so desperately to be believe it was you on top of her instead of her burning hand. she wasn't loud necessarily, but she was vocal. she was shy about it before but your praises very quickly broke down that wall. even when you weren't there to hear, she pleaded and panted as she fucked herself. she almost didn't hear her phone buzzing from the bedside table. when she saw your name and photo smiling at her from her screen, she jumped up and snatched it. she adjusted her glasses as she answered. she tried to slow her breathing before you spoke.

"hi baby, how are you? you doing okay?"

"hi".she breathed, smiling. your groggy voice was like a warm hug to her. and it wasn't helping the situation you caught her in. "I'm okay, just busy working. I missed you"

"I missed you too. I'm sorry I couldn't call sooner. Things got intense for a moment, but it's okay now. I have good news"

graces heart jumped. "you're coming home?"

you chuckled. "we're flying first thing in the morning. chris is taking over for now, which works out, since leon almost got himself blown up. he's fine. just pretending to not be embarrassed"

grace chuckled half heartedly. she didn't want to hear about either of them at that moment. she only cared about you. you sounded tired, which stopped her from mentioning what she was doing before. the ache she had for you had only gotten worse.

"are you sure you're okay? you don't sound-"

"n-no I'm okay! I just wanna hear about you. please keep talking"

"you're cute. okay then"

she really tried to listen and to be fair, she was. just not in the way you were expecting. your voice was just so close to her ear and her hand automatically picked back up the toy she abandoned, and circled her clit again as you talked. unaware you talked about the mission, all the exciting and boring bits. especially the boring bits, since grace seemed to like them the most. she slipped it in again finally when you laughed, the stretch forcing out a deep moan. she quickly moved the phone away from herself, but she didn't stop thrusting the ribbed toy in her greedy pussy. she was taking it so well, and her mind was dizzy imagining how much you'd praise her for being such a good girl.

"grace"

she knew you had caught on and her pussy tightened around the silicone in anticipation. there was a small, less fucked out part of her that felt guilty to use you like that. but it was done now. and she was so so close. she tried to play it off.

"y-yeah? why'd you stop? keep going"

"i might if you tell me what you're doing"

she was ping ponging between being worried that she was in actual trouble and the embarrassment of having to say out loud that she was fucking herself silly just to your voice. on the other hand, she wanted to hear more of that voice, so she had no choice really.

"I'm uh-using your voice".she said, meekly, almost a whisper. it had been a while since she had been shy about things like this with you, but neither of you had done this before. so she was unsure of how you would feel about it. she should've known better though.

"for what?"

you knew what you were doing, and so did she. you loved to fluster her. she slowed down her thrusts, shying away from that high she wanted so badly. but she wanted to prolong this. savour it. you could faintly hear how slick she was under all of her breathless panting.

"to make myself cum"

"is this why you took so long to answer? I thought my pretty girl was asleep".you cooed. she could've sworn you had gotten closer to the mic, knowing how much she loved when you spoke into her skin. "you really did miss me"

"so much".grace agreed, in an almost sob as she teased that sweet spot inside of her. just like how you always did. "I wish you were here"

"you'll have me soon. can I see you? please?"

"y-yeah"

"thats my girl"

if she wasn't focused on doing a good job for you, she would've cum right there. she lifted the jumper up over her chest before pressing record. she angled the camera so that you could perfectly see how fucked out she was for you. her skin was cloaked in a sheen of sweat. it shone under the ambient light. a flush of pink softly coloured her cheeks as she upped the pace, wanting you to hear everything. it made her tits bounce gently with each thrust and she was very pleased with herself. you were gonna love the video. she just knew it. she had never sent videos of herself like this before. sure, you two had sent suggestive photos to one another but never something this filthy. she found it exciting. the act of itself, but also thinking about what you'll do with it after she has sent it.

she breathed your name in between pleads, angling the camera even further down so you could see the mess she was making all over the sheets and herself. the soft skin of her thighs glistened, matching the toy whilst the rest dripped down, staining the covers beneath her. she was so close again and it was so much harder to stop herself this time around, but she did. her hips bucked forward, missing the rising pleasure. she considered cumming on camera for you right then and there, but she wanted to hear your voice while she did it. she sent the short video, and waited impatiently for you to call her back. it didn't take long.

"fuck you're such a good girl. thats my jumper you're wearing isn't it? you're so lucky I'm not there sweetheart, I'd edge you until you cried"

she practically snuggled into the phone as you praised her, her belly fluttering. she didn't know how much longer she could take. "can I cum? please"

you took a moment to answer and the anticipation was killing her. she whimpered again. "you're such a good girl. of course, let me hear it"

your voice had taken on an all too familiar tone, and she knew that you were just as close as she was. she tightened around the toy again, this time letting her pleasure rise and rise until nothing but fucked out babbles left her. she gasped and her hips raised as it crashed over her, seizing her body. she kept fucking herself through it even as her legs shook and her grip on the phone loosened. she could say nothing but your name now, everything else fell away as her orgasm clouded her mind. she heard you gasp too faintly and smiled. she slowed down as you cursed, the pleasure getting a little too much for her spent pussy. she breathed deeply, relief warming her. she got under the covers, not caring about the clean up right now and waited with a soft gaze for you to speak again, cuddling the underside of her pillow. she fixed her glasses again.

"we're finishing that when I get back you know"

It was a cold, rainy day in Wrenwood, it was foggy outside, with the trees swaying with the rapid wind making creepy noises through the window.

You and Grace had the day off and used the weather as an excuse to have yet another cozy date at home.

It was a common occurrance for both of you to just enjoy your time together all cuddled up on the couch with snacks and hot beverages, all the pillows and blankets in a comfy mess.

On days like this the two of you would usually watch something together, try a new hobby, try new recipes, you name it, but today Grace was really focused on a new videogame she got recently.

The story had something to do with puzzles, a team that got lost on a mission, weird creatures, it's not that you hated it, but sometimes it got waaay too scary, it would be a nice mansion exploring game if its residents weren’t so evil, ya know?

That didn't seem to faze Grace one bit though, she always said that after you took care of the enemies the game got a pretty relaxing ambience, but as much as she liked the game, Grace was getting a bit infuriated with it as she had been stuck in the same puzzle for a day now.

"Baby i swear i can see all the little gears turning inside your head." you said sitting back on the couch after making hot chocolate for the both of you and setting them on the small center table in front of you, "If you keep trying to solve this without any other clues i might start to see smoke coming out of your head.", you snuggled closer to her side, resting your head on her shoulder.

“I-I know love, I'm really sorry." Even after all this time dating you, it was cute how she still got flustered and a little nervous with every bit of physical contact you had "I'm sure I'm close to solving it, I just need a few more minutes." it was probably the what? Fifth time she said that today? "Why don't you just like...search it online?" At your suggestion, she turned to you with an almost offended look "What would be the fun in that? No, no, I will get it right without help, I'm telling you I almost got it right.", at that, she stared at the TV again, starting over the puzzle.

You leaned back into the couch, watching her try to solve it again, until an idea came into your mind.

You got up and adjusted yourself behind Grace, pulling your girlfriend to lie with her back to your chest and embraced her from behind, "W-what are you d-doing?" Her brain seemed to short-circuit for a bit as she leaned to look at you, "Nothing baby, just want to be close to my beautiful girlfriend." You answered with the most innocent voice you could muster before giving her a kiss on the cheek "Just keep playing love, i'm watching.", and with an approving hum, she got back to the game.

You started slow, hands caressing her ribs above her pajamas, nose nuzzling her neck, feeling her soft and slightly sweet scent while you felt her getting goosebumps, you could see the effect on her but she was adamant on finishing the puzzle, using every inch of control she had to concentrate, but you knew that would not last long.

Your hand slowly crept under her shirt to cup one of her breasts while the other toyed with the waistband of her pants, your mouth never leaving her neck, "Ah- baby, I-I..." Grace tried, but could not form a full sentence to save her life, "What honey?" You feign innocence again "I'm just showing how much I love my beautiful girlfriend." You answered with a smile and yet another kiss to her neck.

With cheeks even more flustered and a line of sweat starting to form on her forehead, Grace turned back to the game and tried to focus again, moving each piece slower than before, tiny and desperate breaths leaving her mouth.

When you noticed her seemingly focused again, you deepened your hand into her panties, finally feeling the heat that pooled from your girlfriend and smearing all over your fingers as you started to rub her clit "Mmm b-baby..." It was cute how Grace reacted, she was really trying, her hands turning white from gripping the controller so hard, her glasses getting foggy from the sweat, her eyes half lidded, trying so hard to look at the TV in front of her, her shy but delicious moans that she tried to hide out of embarrassment, you loved her so much but could not deny how pathetic she looked, completely at your mercy.

Her body reacted to each motion you did on her clit, hips bucking, trying to get as much contact as she could, "I love to hear you, you know baby?" Sucking hard on her neck, Grace closed her eyes and leaned her head back into you "You know you can let everything out for me right? I want it all baby." she tried really hard to contain it as much as she could, until she felt your fingers inside her, she was completely soaked, body trembling with each pump, not being able to contain herself anymore she moaned loudly, chanting your name like a prayer while your fingers worked inside her, making her pause and forget about the game for a second.

You stopped what you were doing and looked at her "Why did you stop love?", she tried to grind on your fingers again but you stopped her in place, "I c-can't keep mmh... can't f-focus...", she was so desperate to have any contact from you, pussy clenching on nothing, missing your touch, "But i was watching you play baby, it was very interesting..." your hand lazily circled her clit again, "B-but I-I can't...aah!" she trembled hard not being able to contain a desperate, high pitched, loud moan as you fingered her again, "Grace, i said i was watching. You're almost finishing it, right? Let me see." You commanded your poor girlfriend, who could barely keep her eyes open as she unpaused the game and tried to keep going.

She was trying so hard to make sense of the pieces as you worked on her pussy, each movement came erratic and unfocused, you couldn’t tell if her cursing was because she got a piece wrong or if the pleasure was becoming too much for her.

The sounds in the room were completely unholy, Grace's moans were getting even louder, her chest breathing hard and uneven against you, her soaked pussy making obscene wet sounds as your fingers went harder, as deep as you could, curling inside her while your palm brushed her clit just right.

"H-hone-y...fuck I-I...", Grace grinded harder against you, "Go on baby, let it out, cum for me.", her movements got more erratic as she got closer and closer to her release, the controller shaking in her hands as she somehow still managed to make some sort of movement with it.

Grace came with a loud moan of your name, bucking her hips forward to feel every inch of you inside her, she looked heavenly, eyes closed shut with tears on the brim of them, back completely arched against you, glasses completely fogged up and...

DING!

She was still coming off of her high when you looked at the TV.

She did it.

Grace solved it, she was fucked out of her brain but still managed to complete the puzzle.

"Baby." You got her attention as she slowly opened her eyes, "Huh?", Grace tried to look at the TV, "You're a fucking genious!", By your excitment it seemed that you were the one to complete the damn thing, as your girlfriend could just stare in shock at the TV while cleaning her glasses, "I did it..." She sat up again "I did it!", She finally came back to her senses and picked up the controller to see the new area she had finally unlocked.

But as soon as she opened the door in the game you got in front of her "Uh baby?" she gave you a questioned look as you took the controller out of her hand and got on your knees in front of her, "What?" you gave her a teasing look as you started to take off her pants, "You thought i wouldn’t give you a proper reward for finally beating that?" You smirked as you kissed her thighs, earning a soft whimper from your girlfriend.

꒰ ྀི ♥︎ ࿐ Chapter 1: Tease

Sand weighed down your sandals with every step you took as you lugged your countless beach bags closer to the glimmering water. You had given Grace the duty of carrying the ice chest that contained all the food and drink necessities for any beach trip, and you would have felt bad if it weren’t for the fact that she insisted on bringing the whole kitchen with her. Her little huffs of exhaustion were cute to listen to and you couldn’t help but tease her about her lack of decisiveness when it came to packing. “Gracie… you know you didn’t have to bring that twelve pack, or the two different types of sandwiches, orrrr the entire watermelon.”

Her face flushed as she looked off to the side, embarrassed, “God forbid I wanted to be prepared and treat my lady to a nice beach trip…” She mumbled under her breath.

It was an incredibly hot day, mother nature had no business taking out her anger on the two of you, so you had bugged her and bugged her about going to the beach. The two of you had nothing to do all day, and you thought it would be better than staying home lazing around the entire day. You could work on your tan, and she could admire your assets—and insist she was just looking at how pretty the water was…(yeah right, she’d choose you as the view over anything else).

Finally you plopped down your bags and claimed a nice open spot as your own. You got to work laying down a large sheet, making sure to weigh down the corners with miscellaneous items so it wouldn’t fly away in the breeze of the salty air. Once everything was laid down Grace finally let go of the ice chest and was about to start pulling drinks out before you grabbed her hand to stop her.

“Before we eat, why don’t we get in the water?” You bat your long, fluttery lashes at her and who was she to deny a request from her darling girlfriend.

“I-I mean yeah! Of course what was I thinking” That cute stutter of hers always came out when you flustered her.

The truth was you had bought an adorable new bikini and you wanted to show it off to her. Grace was used to seeing you in one piece bathing suits and she was more fond of wearing a t-shirt and swim trunks, so this would be an absolute treat for her. You shimmied out of your cover up revealing the most precious litte frilly bikini your girlfriend had ever seen. It hugged your curves effortlessly, showing off your soft and plush body. You hitched the bottoms up ever so slightly for more security and Grace thought she could die happy then and there. Your body was perfect and she was short circuiting.

Sure she had seen you in less in the comfort of your shared bed, but she had never seen you in something like this. She wanted to take you and hide you away from anyone seeing you, not because she was controlling, but because she wanted to you all to herself to hold, kiss, caress—

“Earth to Grace!” you called out waving your arms up and down as if trying to get her attention.

You snapped her out of her fantasy and she jolted back into reality. “I-I’m sorry baby you just look so… I wanna kiss every inch of you, and if we weren’t in public maybe I would…” She trailed off, glancing to the side every so often.

“We can save that for later, but for now I suppose I can settle for a kiss on the lips then.” You melt into her the moment your lips meet and you wrap your arms around her neck, pulling her closer. Her hands find your lower waist, ghosting around your soft skin before planting them firmly onto you. Before parting ways you nipped at her bottom lip before pulling away. She chased after your lip with a quiet whimper but stopped in her tracks when you placed your index finger over her soft lips. “Ah ah ahhh…” You whisper, your breath fanning over her ear, “Not until later.”

Your arms unraveled from around her neck before you began your walk closer to the water. You beckoned her to follow you before turning your head to face the sea. A million thoughts swirled around Grace’s mind as her face grew incredibly flushed, but she knew one thing. She would absolutely get you back for teasing her when you got home.

she'd be all needy, whining whenever you so much as brush your hand against hers, she'd need to have a collar of course, to remind her who she belongs to.

i imagine you'd realize after getting home to her fucking herself in your shared bed, sheets fucking soaked, and her face flushed with tears because she just needs you and needs relief

taking care of her ,, shes definitely submissive but she can be a subtop or bottom either or, in this state shes especially fucked stupid so she wont complain much either way unless you tease her, but even then, i doubt you'd get many real words from her instead of her stupid little puppy whimpers and the pretty "ah-ah-ah" sounds she'd make when you fuck her.

"I'm so excited," you said with a smile on your face as you looked at the picture of you and your girlfriend on your desk, which you two had taken on your first date.

You remember that day very well. Grace was so nervous that she was stuttering the whole time. She kept accidentally pronouncing everything the wrong way and even talking to herself out loud.

Her face had been so pink from the embarrassment that she could barely even look at you, trying to hide her face behind her short hair.

She almost even dropped her phone down the river if you hadn't caught it.

"Is Grace coming over?" a deep husky voice asked behind you as you turned around with the swivel chair to face Leon.

Nodding happily, "She is. I finally managed to pull some strings, and now she's coming over in about 2 minutes and 24 seconds." Your eyes had been looking at the watch the whole time.

Usually, no one besides the DSO employees is allowed to enter the building, but you finally managed to convince one of your higher-ups to let your girlfriend visit.

You had been working at DSO for about three years now, and all because of Leon Scott Kennedy himself, you got to meet Grace in the first place.

He had talked about this girl he had met during the time he had been suffering from the Raccoon City Syndrome, and you remember his exact words.

"There's this girl. She's about your age, and I think you two would get along well. Her name is Grace, and she's a bit anxious - well, actually very anxious - but I think you two could be great friends or even girlfriends or whatever you guys want to call it."

Leon had always been your favourite coworker, and after having met Grace, you liked him even more.

"You're crazy," he mumbled, still loud enough for you to hear, as you responded back, "Crazy in love, old man."

Putting his hands on his hips while leaning on the wall. "I'm not even that old."

Humming shortly, you leaned back in your chair. "True, you move around as if you're in your twenties."

The older man rolled his eyes at you, and before he could say something back, you suddenly got up.

"Grace, you're finally here!" The smile never left your face as you put your arms tightly around your girlfriend.

Even now, the young woman was blushing. She was trying to avoid eye contact with everyone else, not really used to people staring at her that blatantly.

"We saw each other yesterday," she whispered as you let her out of the hug but kept your pinky finger curled around hers.

"Exactly, it's been too long already," and with that, you pulled her towards your desk, sitting her down on your chair while you pulled out another one that no one was using.

The building was huge, and Grace didn't even know how she managed to find her way through it.

"I'll give you two some privacy," said Leon, waving for a second before walking away as Grace's face got even more flushed.

"W-We don't need privacy," she whispered as you started to chuckle softly, your eyes never leaving her face as she shyly looked at you, her heart beating fast once she made eye contact.

"Didn't know that you were into voyeurism," you started to smirk as she started waving her hands around while saying "no," which was quite loud and made a couple of people turn around.

"Sorry," she blurted out as the DSO employees couldn't help but smile at her.

And before you could start teasing her further, a voice was heard behind you. "So that's the girlfriend you were swooning about."

Turning around, you nodded enthusiastically. "Yes, that's Grace. My beautiful girlfriend."

Sheva started to laugh softly as she held out her hand to introduce herself to Grace, to which Grace introduced herself back with lots of stutters, but at least Sheva seemed easy to talk to, which calmed your girlfriend a bit down.

"I'll leave you two be now," the woman said, but quickly leaned down towards you and Grace before she left. "There's no need to be shy, and by the way, you have a pretty smile."

Hearing that made you grin as Grace started laughing nervously, obviously not having expected the compliment but also being flustered.

Slowly, you pulled your chair closer to hers and leaned in, your faces almost touching each other. “You use that smile like a weapon every time. Isn’t that right, Miss Ashcroft?” you whispered in her ear while starting to leave small kisses all over her shoulder and neck.

"Not in public!"

"As if that's the first time we have done something like that."

ミ꒲ ☆ ꒱ ── jinx who attends college as a mechanical engineering major. always been a tinkerer, so might as well study and make a career out of one of her hobbies

ミ꒲ ☆ ꒱ ── but attending college can be expensive. and unfortunately for her, her family couldn’t help pay the tuition. and jinx didn’t really apply for scholarships and such before attending…

ミ꒲ ☆ ꒱ ── so when it came down to paying, she was utterly broke

ミ꒲ ☆ ꒱ ── jinx who tried doing odd jobs here and there. started off working in retail, before getting fired for getting in an altercation with a random karen customer

ミ꒲ ☆ ꒱ ── and then she tried dabbling in dealing. but that didn’t last long since she wouldnt sell any bc a) she wasn’t discreet. at all. and b) she would smoke majority of it

ミ꒲ ☆ ꒱ ── jinx who met you at some local cafe in the city, when she was handing in her resume

ミ꒲ ☆ ꒱ ── eyes wide, jaw slacked open when she saw you walk in with a warm smile, ordering your drink. the business suit you had on with your heels making her practically drool

ミ꒲ ☆ ꒱ ── you who looked to her and smiled a little. who was this cutie with the blue hair?

ミ꒲ ☆ ꒱ ── jinx who began to go to the cafe everyday, even though she never got the job. simply because she wanted to see you and shoot her shot

ミ꒲ ☆ ꒱ ── jinx who would throw the corniest pick up lines. and when you would remind her that you were much older than she was, she’d almost scoff and shrug

“the wrapper may be wrinkled but the candy is still sweet,” she said one time. and you didnt know if you wanted to be offended or turned on

ミ꒲ ☆ ꒱ ── and finally, after weeks of her begging, you agreed on going out to dinner with her

ミ꒲ ☆ ꒱ ── jinx who used the last remaining money she had to treat you out to a nice dinner date. she has to show off for this hot older woman now

ミ꒲ ☆ ꒱ ── only for you to pay for the dinner, pushing her card away and shaking your head

“i make more than enough,” you say with a shrug, “a pretty thing like you shouldn’t be spending so much money.”

ミ꒲ ☆ ꒱ ── and thats how you two became a thing

ミ꒲ ☆ ꒱ ── you were more than just her sugar mommy tbf. you two were exclusive and together..it just so happened that your love language was giving jinx your credit card

ミ꒲ ☆ ꒱ ── jinx who almost wanted to cry when you paid off her student loans in full, and even agreed on paying off the rest of her college life

ミ꒲ ☆ ꒱ ── she was so overwhelmed that she literally got on her knees to thank you, saying she’d do anything to repay you

ミ꒲ ☆ ꒱ ── shopping with jinx <333 going to random hardware stores so she can build something and little antique shops to decorate your house (well..now its her house as well)

ミ꒲ ☆ ꒱ ── not letting jinx take public transportation anymore. you drive her and pick her up from school in your nice fancy car. or you let her borrow your car if you cant make it that day

ミ꒲ ☆ ꒱ ── jinx who is so pathetic and subby in bed :(((

ミ꒲ ☆ ꒱ ── she was almost embarrassed when you two began having sex the first few times. you were just so experienced and she was a horny college student

“hmph—oh fuck mommy!” she moaned one time, immediately snapping her mouth closed in fear. but when she saw your eyes light up, she moaned even louder, “mommy!”

ミ꒲ ☆ ꒱ ── jinx who loves messily eating you out 💔 she may not be as good as you, but just seeing her moan into your cunt and lap at it like a starved dog is enough to keep you going

ミ꒲ ☆ ꒱ ── jinx who has a thing for puppy play 🫪 being put on a leash and collar and being called a good girl

ミ꒲ ☆ ꒱ ── she also loves being a brat sometimes. but when you punish her for it, she gets all mopey

ミ꒲ ☆ ꒱ ── gets on her knees, teary eyed as she holds onto your legs, pleading for forgiveness

ミ꒲ ☆ ꒱ ── jinx who deep down is so deeply in love with you that she overthinks your relationship, fearing youre gonna leave her one day because youre too good for her

she’s been gone for the most part, because jinx is never fully gone. instead she just relocated into the back of your mind and into the prickly feeling of being watched when you’re alone, into the weird way things in your apartment switch places just slightly like someone was there before you, or how a window you’re sure you closed is suddenly open a few inches again, like someone forgot to finish the job.

you told yourself it was paranoia, post breakup stress or whatever happens when you take something intense out of your life and your mind doesn’t know what to do with the absence, so it fills it in with whatever it can. either way, you’re trying to move on.

you even went on dates. the first one was okay-ish, boring and polite. you left early with some flimsy excuse and walked home with a hollow feeling in your chest.

the second was actually promising before she disappeared. no texts or calls, social media wiped like she never existed, it’s just like she slipped straight through your fingers and out of reality itself. you didn’t let yourself connect the dots. you’re not stupid but you’re not that paranoid either… right?

you get home and toss your stuff aside, going through the usual routine of making something to eat, playing something in the background just to fill the silence, showering and then bed.

you’re already under the covers, phone in hand as you scroll mindlessly when it buzzes.

jinx’s contact name stares at you accusingly, and you stare back at the notification for a few seconds, like if you wait it’ll disappear like some kind of delayed hallucination finally catching up to you.

it’s a video. not even a regular text or anything that would make this make sense. and yet, of course it isn’t… jinx, always the instigator. you should ignore her and go to sleep. clearly, absolutely, definitely should.

you tap on it. it even loads slowly like it’s dragging the moment out on purpose, that warm anticipation crawling under your skin.

it’s a little dark, but you can recognize her workshop in the thumbnail.

you press play, and before you see what’s happening, jinx’s whiny moans and the unmistakable squelching sounds of her touching herself enter your ears. your face flushes hot as you feel your own core clench at the display, embarrassingly quickly at that.

the camera pans out, revealing her naked body splayed across her bed, the one you used to share before she broke your heart. you feel a surge of anger, but it's quickly drowned out by the ache between your thighs growing with each passing second. in perfect and twisted timing, jinx grins directly at the camera right after, her blue hair splayed across the pillow as she sinks another finger inside.

"mmh.. i miss you, baby.” jinx purrs, her voice dripping with false sweetness. "don’t you miss me too? tasting me, feeling me...?" she trails off, biting her bottom lip and arching her back as she puts on a show. her chest heaves with each thrust, and you catch the sheen of sweat on her pale skin through the screen. "watch closely now, sweets... i want you to see every... single... second.”

she zooms in, filling your screen with a close up view of herself. she’s practically dripping like a faucet, thrusting her fingers so sloppily that shimmer-tinged slick trails down her hole to the sheets.

"fuck- yes... just like that," jinx moans loudly, grinding her palm hard against her clit, hips bucking shamelessly against her own touch as she chases her release. she cries out as she comes with a shuddering intensity. a translucent pink web of her release clings to her fingers as they keep pumping in and out of her fluttering pussy. her whimpers and mewls fill the air, tangling your name with desperate pleas of "need you" and incoherent cries.

jinx remains still for a moment, then slowly pulls out her fingers and brings them to her mouth. “don't you wish you could have a taste too?" she lets out a pleased hum as her tongue darts out to lick them clean. “too bad you're not here to... ah well.” she shrugs as the camera zooms out, leaving you with a lingering view of her fucked out form sprawled across the bed. a breathy giggle escapes her lips before the video ends, knowing exactly that you’ll watch every second. that’s what she wants you to understand, how much of a chokehold she still has on you, and how that will never change no matter how hard you try to move on.

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