#IT SHOULD BE SO EASY!!! DOING THINGS IS SUPPOSED TO BE EASY!!!

[websterss]

THE HAND THAT’S FORCED (2) — ROBERT REYNOLDS

SUMMARY: You hadn’t meant to get attached to Bob, much less fall in love with him. You hadn’t meant for things to slip out right from underneath your grasp. Out of your control, much like Valentina holding your love for one another over your heads.

WARNING(S): SPOILERS!!! angst, some visual descriptions, but nothing too extreme, I believe, dead parent/sibling illusion, Valentina being a horrible being again.

WORD COUNT: 5,164

PAIRING: Robert Reynolds (Sentry/The Void) x fem!reader

A/N: Hope you guys like it. There will be one more part to this now mini series lmfao. It was supposed to be a one-shot, but the ideas kept coming.

MASTERLIST | PART 1 | PART 2 | PART 3

Valentina had opened the door, the light from the hall greeting the body that lay slumped.

“She’s not dead, is she?” She looked over at Mel, holding a tablet to her chest. She was wearing a black blazer over her white blouse. Her eyes widened as the directed question finally settled into her mind. "Told some people to rough her up a bit, but geezus...look at her."

“Oh! Um…” She rushed forward, her jacket flailing outward as she crouched down, reaching two fingers forward, pressing them against your neck. She glanced at the watch on her wrist. Counting the barely there heartbeats. “Her heartbeat, it’s faint but there…Is she gonna die?” She stood slowly from crouching down before you.

“No. Why? Does her chart imply otherwise, because I need her alive? The kid may be gullible, but the other one…That one is a force to be reckoned with. Though I’m not too sure if he’s even aware of her state. I did separate them for a good while.”

"She should be fine. Her vitals look good. Her energy is still stable. A broken rib or two perhaps." Mel glances up from the tablet in her hand.

Valentina let her shoulders fall. The relief was so obvious that she nearly clicked her heels for you. Probed with genuine concern for your well-being. It was a change from the cold demeanor and indifference she carried for you.

"What is she worth to you?" Mel asked out of curiosity.

"What is she worth to me? She’s leverage, Mel. To sway that other one out there.” Valentina lifted her phone to her line of sight. "Bait him in with her while we still have the upper hand. It came with some force on my end, but she altered his memories before. Just as I hoped she could. Now, if we could just get her close enough to do it again. Come on, let's get a move on with transporting her. Two hands are better than four!"

"Isn't it four hands that are better than two?"

"Two hands!" Valentina called over her shoulder. Gesturing for Mel to follow her with you hauled up in her arms.

She looks back down at you.

“I guess I’m dragging you. Sorry.” She grimaced.

-

You didn't know the length of which you'd been out cold. It hadn't been long before you came to. Shaken, more like. Your disoriented state adjusting to the harsh darkness bleeding through a massive broken window. The tower. You sit up slowly, pushing up with your hands to steady your rise.

"Easy there." A voice spoke to your right, just barely above a whisper. You knew whose voice it belonged to. The false sincerity was evident. “Take it slow now, sweetheart. You’ve been through hell.”

Valentina. You turn your head steadily. Your gaze meets the smile you’ve wanted to slap off her face.

"You-" You muster enough to say. "You sent men after me, and then, they beat me down. Then you drugged me."

"I did." She admitted without a hint of shame. You scoff at her accountability.

"W-Where's Bob? What have you done with him now?"

A moment passed before she responded, the silence growing heavy. Terrorized screams and cries ran past the entrance. You finally glanced around, taking in the rubble of drywall disregarded, the entryway glass windows shattered, as though driven into. Your attention shifts to your left, eyeing the random delivery truck parked inside the building with genuine curiosity.

"Oh, your lover, he's outside right now, thrashing New York City for the umpteenth time, turning people into shadows, that sort of thing. You wouldn't happen to know anything about that, would you?" She hums.

"Shadows?" You mutter to yourself before you push yourself off the ground, your legs try to give as you stand. "No...It's taken control over him again. It's happening again like it did in the lab." Your eyes shut.

She took note of your confusion, watching your movements carefully. "What do you mean, like it did in the lab?"

"You have no idea what we witnessed in Malaysia. It was something unexplainable. Way beyond our jurisdiction and capabilities, and you never bothered to try and hear us out. You have no idea what you're dealing with."

"You're right." Valentina conceded, taking a step forward. "I have no idea what we're dealing with…but what I do know is how you managed to go this far, this whole time, and not tell a single soul the abilities you possess. I mean a telepath? Mental manipulation, and a PHD under your belt. You're a shoo-in for the front cover of the New York Times, sweetheart."

Absolute dread consumes you.

Her lips curled into a smirk, noting your panic. "Oh, don't act so surprised. Your mother was quite a special lady, I hear. Talk about mother of the year, am I right? Those developed mommy issues, I’m sure. God, what kind of parent experiments on their own child?"

“She was unwell. S-She was lost after we lost my father.” You try to justify her actions like you'd done for half your life.

"Right…" Valentina stepped forward once more, the coolness of her breath hitting your face. "You always defend your mother's abuse? Even I know better than to believe that she wasn't anything but mentally unstable, not that you'd ever admit it, as I can see."

"What do you want from me?"

"Information. A way to control him." Her words were straightforward. No beating around the bush. Your gaze was drawn to the slight bruising forming around her neck.

Your stance grows confidence, as does your smirk. "This is way above your pay grade, huh?"

A scoff escaped her lips. "You're gonna go out there, use that bond you created with him to your advantage, and alter his memory."

Was she serious?

"You really believe altering his memories will stop this chaos?" You scoff at her this time. "You're in over your head, lady."

She paused, taking a moment to examine your reluctance. "Then what would you suggest to stop him?" She complained.

"I don't know-"

"Then how the hell can you stand there and claim that I'm the one in over my head? The nerve you have, kid-"

"Look, the last time we dealt with him this way. Two of our doctors died. I was a last resort to bring him down from his own mind, they thought I could talk to him, since I was the only one he was comfortable around, but-"

"Perfect! We'll use that then." Valentina was satisfied with the idea and started dragging you outside.

"No wait! You don't know what you're dealing with, Valentina. I wasn't able to-" You grunt as she shoved you out onto the road. You catch your bearings as you peer up at her with anguish.

"I don't care what we're dealing with. You're gonna fix this and put this city back to the way it was, or so help me!"

"Just stop and listen for once! I can't help him the way you think I can. I-It didn't wo-" You begin to shake your head until you flatten against the concrete. Left as a shadowed victim in her wake. Valentina falters backward. Peering at the shadow of you that begins spreading like a wildfire.

"Shit!" The silence that followed Valentina's panicked outburst was unsettling.

-

“Where do you go…” Bob looks up from the IV you inserted into his left vein. “When you’re not here…with me?”

You paused your insertion, then continue putting tape over the line to prevent it from falling out of his skin. His curious eyes make the corners of your lips curl up.

“Home.” Your tone was casual as can be. “I-I go home. Then come back here to do it all over again.” You pick up your chart and jot notes down. They’d kill you on sight if your documentation was behind. They wouldn’t be able to rely on the existence of your tests if there’s no proof of you doing them.

“What’s something you like to do for fun?”

You feel the gentle caress of his fingertips, pushing back a strand that got in the way of his view of you.

Your pen stops moving as you tilt your head up. His eyes soften as he timidly curls the hand on your face around to cup your neck. A small gasp leaves you as a flash crosses the forefront of your mind. A little girl watches from behind an ajar door, peeking inside a lab where a disheveled woman, near right, trashes her equipment. ‘It’s not working? Why isn’t it working?’ The woman exclaims. Bob's voice pulls you back.

He watches how your face goes blank for a split second until life flashes across your eyes again. He didn’t mean to make you relive a memory. A new ability of his that he had yet to gain control over.

“I’m sorry.” He goes to pull his hand back. “I didn’t mean to make you see that-“

“You can’t help it.” You reassured. “But umm…besides talking to you and the guinea pigs…” You breathe a nervous laugh, wanting to make light of the troubling memory you saw. His grin widens a bit as he senses the notion of your teasing. “I like to write sometimes. Reading is what I do most, though.”

“W-What do you write about?” He focuses his attention on caressing your skin with his thumb. Taken by your good nature, how pure you were compared to the others who manhandled him. Your touch was always so sweet, gentle.

He hated himself more than ever in this moment; he made you relive a memory unintentionally. He couldn’t help that when he came into contact with someone, they’d get a relapse of their past.

“Anything. Everything. My life. What life could be. How my life could have been. Though it's mostly about a girl who wants to live a life that's not her own, someone who's entered this false fantasy she craves more than anything. I don’t like to dwell too much on reality when writing honestly. It’s trying to escape it, I write more of.”

"D-Do you think your writing helps you to cope...with reality? From certain pain."

"It distracts me for a short while." Your eyes flutter as he continues to trace your neck to your jawline. The slight twitch of your muscles didn't go unnoticed by him. His thumb gently presses just a bit under your ear in response. "It's temporary, though. An...illusion. It only helps so much. You still have to come back to reality at the end of the day. You can never escape from what’s truly real."

“That’s a bit ironic, no?” Bob’s brows furrow in thought. His smile remains the same. Gentle and serene. “Wanting to run from reality doesn’t seem like something a doctor like you would do, since you’re all about the science and the logic of things?”

"Science and logic doesn't always have to be applied to all things in life." You respond nonchalantly as you make another mark on your paper. A soft hum escapes you as he continues to rub your neck with his thumb at the same time. "I prefer to see things from a variety of perspectives, through emotions, for example."

He nods, taking in your response. He's not too surprised that a woman like you isn't confined to thinking one particular way. For one, you never saw him as a weapon, a subject to be tested on. He wasn’t another candidate, he was just Bob to you, and you were Y/n to him.

You tilt your head up, your gaze meeting his once more. “Just because I'm a scientist doesn't mean I'm not human. I have vices. I have opinions. I have feelings. I have fears as much as I do doubts. I have weaknesses...As I have certain strengths." You mutter the last bit. Bob locks eyes with you. His eyes softened. “So yes, I suppose it may seem ironic, but when you know certain truths, you start to wonder if logic and reasoning are enough anymore to justify the reality of them.“

Bob’s gaze remains locked onto yours, his smile disappearing as he seems to get caught up in his thoughts. He seemed hesitant to speak aloud. He continues to gently rub your neck, the touch of his thumb on your skin sending ripples down your spine.

After a few moments of him not saying anything, you speak up. "Penny for your thoughts?"

“I-I know exactly what that feels like and I wanna kiss you for it…”

Your head snapped up instantly, your eyes widening in surprise. You can visibly see that Bob's demeanor has changed. The calm, gentle aura he had before has turned into something much more intense, something much more charged and desperate and full of want. His grip on your neck tightens just a bit. His gaze is fixed on your lips, as if he's been starved.

The faint flicker between his amber eyes then to his blue ones had you wanting to take precaution like they taught you all to do, but you don’t remove his grasp on your neck, and let him in. Let him kiss you. It wasn’t long until Bob wrapped a hand around your waist to tug you closer.

“She was your person…” Yelena‘s heart hammers with guilt. The others quietly take in the tender scene unfolding.

“S-She’s the only one who saw me.” Bob’s eyes tear up at the sight of you and him together. “And I couldn’t save her, I-” Bob flinches as another you enters the room they’re all in, the door having been slammed open.

“What’s this one?” Yelena reaches for her gun by her side, having been startled by your appearance as well.

“I don't know…” Bob’s brows furrow as he watches this version of you, fear-stricken. “I don’t have any memories of this, at all.”

“Y/n?” Bob sat up.

“Bob! Oh my god, thank god!” You exclaim, rushing forward to cup his face. “You're okay. I’ve missed you!”

“Y/n, what are you doing here?” Bob was startled by your hurried entrance. He hadn’t seen you for months. Then he woke up alone with no clue where he was, and now you appeared out of the blue.

“I don’t have much time-“ You hurried around the space, frantically pulling out a syringe and a bottle. "Valentina will know I'm here and send people after me."

“Wait, what do you mean?” Bob steps back.

“I need to hurry. I gotta get you out of here.” Your shaking hands fumbled with the syringe. Bob reaches for them. Another memory pulling you from this reality at his touch. You stood still, motionless, until Bob pulled back, guilt eating at his features as he heard you gasp. You looked around, out of breath, until your gaze settled on him once again. You were still here. You were still here with him.

“I-I don’t understand-“Bob's brows furrow as he holds his hands out.

“They don't know that you made it through the final trial.” You stop altogether, meeting his scared eyes. "That you're alive. Valentina only knows what I've been telling her, but they don't know. I can get you out of here while I still can. We can go like we talked about. O-Our mediocre picket fence cliche." You breathe out a laugh. "We've got to go now, though!"

“Alive? But I am alive! Why would she think otherwise…” Bob’s innocence always seemed to fill you with dread. You close your eyes.

“Because I told her you didn't.” You peer open your eyes. Finding his resolve disappearing.

“You what?”

“I was never gonna go through with it. The others didn't make it, and when you came to us in Malaysia, every test we ran kept working...Your trials exceeded our expectations. The way things were heading, though, they were only gonna weaponize you. I couldn't do it. I couldn't stand with them, while you only endured more pain. You have to know this! It’s why you woke up.” You held his arms. Eyeing his entire being, head to toe. He wasn’t scarred or injured. He was fine. “I had to make it look real, but she knows now. She found out about what I did.”

“I don’t remember this.” Bob walked towards the replica of yourself. “She told me she wanted to out Valentina's secrets to the public? This isn't my memory.” Bob shakes his head. "I don't remember this!"

The memory glitched. Your body convulsed until the memory glitched once more, and the next you were kneeling before him, crying.

"I don't want to. I don't want to. You took them from me." You choked back a sob. You were talking to yourself.

"Y/n? Don't want to what?" He cupped your face.

"I'm so sorry..." A tear fell down your face before your hands reached up, cupping his face. You gasped before his body gave, and he slumped into your shoulder. You cradled him close. Closing your eyes as you kissed his hair.

“Well, if it’s not yours, then whose is it?” John questioned.

“I-It’s mine.” Their heads whip around. Your disheveled state catches them off guard. You’d been walking for what felt like hours through various doors of your past. All filled with some form of pain, guilt, and dread, you had to endure. Much like this one. “Hi.”

Bob’s shoulders dropped when he realized that it was really you. You curled in on yourself as five suited figures stared back at you. All curious, all wondering the same thing, like how the hell you’d end up here with all of them.

“Y/n…” Bob called out your name as though it made it all the more real. “I’m dreaming. I must be dreaming.” He shook his head as you grew closer.

“If you’re here, then…you weren’t dead when I found you.” Yelena was taken by her realization. Your pulse had been nonexistent when she checked. Now you stood amongst them, facing your own demons like theirs in the void. “You were dead.” She stated. "I felt no pulse. They beat the shit out of you."

You nodded, peering up at the blonde, lifting your chin, which was facing the ground. “They call it Tetrodotoxin B; it slows the heart to one beat per minute. It’s how I slowed Bob’s to trick them into thinking he didn't make it.” Your voice croaks, dread overconsumes you.

“She wanted me dead,” Bob states. "I thought she got you, too."

Your hands shake, tears falling past your waterline. You shake your head. An ache returns to the forefront of your mind, but it settles in your chest. “Valentina can eat shit. You can't take me down that easily." You shrug, a faint smile on your face. You were worn out.

"Y-You changed my memories." Bob's bottom lip trembled. "Could you do that all this time we were together? I never knew you could do that."

"Since I was fifteen, and I only altered it." You reassured. "Gave you a reality that wouldn't hurt as much to remember."

"The memory with Valentina holding a gun at you-"

"I gave it to you. It wasn't real, but keeping us apart was real. Her sending her men to beat the shit out of me. Real. I'm good now." Your voice cracks with exhaustion.

"You told me you were, are you still, is that real?" You gathered what he was trying to ask in front of the others. Your own dam broke. You begin to shake your head no.

"No." You mutter. "I'm not pregnant. What you saw was an altered memory of my mother and father."

"Oh."

"Yeah..."

"What are you?" Ava speculated.

"My mom's lab rat." That was all you gave them. You didn't want to pursue the memory of her in whatever this place was. "Gone wrong..."

"Why wouldn't you tell me?" You look over to Bob.

“I thought I was protecting you…I didn't want to add on to here.” Your voice cracks, lightly tapping his temple. “I can give anyone any memory, make them see something great or horrific rather than something they want to forget. I wasn't gifted with the ability to take away any of the bad ones, though.” You couldn’t stop the tears from falling. "Why would she do this to me? I can do something incredible, but it's flawed. It's good for a specific use, when it could be something greater." You push your arms outward in question. You pause before continuing, catching your breath. "She got them like she said she would, my family." Your voice cracks. "After she found out I knew you were alive, she made me watch. So now there's not much left for me to mourn over...but I'm damned if she tries to kill you.”

A curdle scream made you all flinch, four shots firing off, but two dead bodies dropping over, the telltale signs of your trauma. You peer at them, your brother, your mother. Numb to the sight, but the ache lingered like a burned-out candle.

“What is this place, Bob…?” You mutter as the gory imagery fades into another illusion. Yelena steps over to you, placing a steady hand around your forearms, pressing her head against yours gently. You look back at Bob, who stared at the spot where your mom and younger brother lay. Then he turned back to you. Reaching out for your touch.

"A void." Bob presses his nose into your hair for comfort. You lean into his embrace, comforted by the soft texture of his jumper. "Where'd you come from?"

"I don't know, Valentina threw me out onto the street. Thinking I could sway your void-self. Which I got to hand it to her, she had high expectations." You scoff. "I'm sure he took one look at me and well...here I am going through endless doors of hell." You laugh at your own predicament.

"How dare he..." Bob's gaze softens. “I would’ve left you alone.” He muttered, holding onto you in a way he had been deprived of for months. You let a soft chuckle escape your lips as you buried your face in his chest, soaking up the heat that radiated off of him. The steady beating of his heart was a sound you’d heard plenty of times before, but you took the time to appreciate it anyway. You feel his lips place a soft kiss down on top of your head, melting away your burdens.

"I know you would've." You peer up at Bob, but he doesn't meet your gaze. Instead, he stared dead ahead, glaring at the empty void that now presented itself before you all. The others exchanged uneasy looks. "Bob?" You called out softly, but he remains still. You finally glanced around. "This is the lab..." You push back from him. Your gaze settles on your workstation. Moments, flashes of laughter, and grunts of frustration are displayed like a broken record.

"He's not gonna come back, is he?" A timid-natured Bob looks back towards the entryway. Then settles his gaze on you. He reaches forward to fix the collar of your lab coat.

"No. He's out for a bit. You can relax."

"Hey, Y/n-"

"Mhm." You're writing something in your notebook.

"If it doesn't work out tomorrow-"

"It will!" You turn, facing him, to calm his worries.

"Y-You don't know that. I mean, anything could go wrong. Surely something is going to go wrong-"

"I do." You nod, but you sound uncertain.

"It's okay if it doesn't. I know you've always had my best interests. You've been there for me when no one else has. It's okay if the procedure doesn't go the way you want it to."

"No, I don't think it will be. Okay, I mean. I don't know if anything will ever be fine again if it doesn't work."

You step closer to the limited fond memory. Another flash appears before the previously existing one fades.

"Will it hurt?"

You tilted your head at the sight of yourself, first meeting him.

"No. You shouldn't feel a thing. It’s just got a bit of a sting, more like a poke. H-Have you ever pricked your finger on something? Maybe a splinter stuck in your skin. A needle point, maybe even a-"

"Does a slap count as a sting?"

"Oh...Um, I-I suppose it could, but trust me when I say it won't feel as bad as-" You gasped as you stumbled into the bed's edge, he sat perched on.

"Dr Y/L/N?" Your eyes rolled to the back of your head before you fell to the ground. Bob panicked as he lurched forward in an attempt to save you from your head crashing against the hard, cold floor.

"H-Help! Can someone help! S-She needs help in here!" Bob cradled you in his arms, calling out to any listening ears, before he was dragged into your memories.

"I've been here already," Yelena tilts her head.

You shift your attention, being drawn towards the eerie figure sitting on the bed.

"This is where it all started. I was roaming around Southeast Asia, thought I'd figure something out, or at least find more drugs." You step with Bob as he cautiously tells his story. "Then there's this guy. He started talking to me about a medical study. A trial drug that can make me stronger. I met Y/n shortly after that. It felt like a miracle...I'd finally get to show everyone that I was more. That I was something."

"And look what you unleashed." The void spoke. His head lifted as he got up to round the bed. "The most shameful thing of all was thinking you could be anything more than nothing."

"We're leaving." Yelena straightened her back as she stood before the Void.

"...No."

Before you knew it, your air circulation was being prevented as you fell to your knees before the dark figure.

Yelena made a beeline for you, only to get thrown back with Alexei. The rest of the group followed your demise. Wrapping them in metal and wires against your work stations and the back wall.

Void chuckled under his breath as he lifted his gaze to meet your eyes, locking you in place. “You thought I’d show you mercy? You limited us. Fed us false hope. Love is weak. Why should we spare you? You don't care about him. You don't accept this part of him. Bob and I will remain alone.” He taunted, gripping tighter, forcing your windpipe shut. You watched helplessly as you were thrown around like a ragdoll, then fell a few feet from Bob, still grasping for air as you clutched at your neck, tears welling up in your eyes. No one there to soothe you.

Bob watched in stunned horror. He couldn't move, but you saw his body tense, fight response kicking in.

"D-Don't listen t-to him, Bob- please!" You rasp out in labored breaths.

The mention of his name snaps him out of his stance. He focuses his attention on you. Worry was a clear indicator across his eyes, but he stood his ground in front of the Void. Moving his body to block his view of you.

"Stop. J-Just let them go." Bob pleaded.

"You think they care about you? You don't matter. To anyone." The Void replied, his tone sounding smug.

"That's not true-ugh!" Yelena's protests of pain were emitted out loud. A wire tightened around her neck

"We do care about him-argh!" You exclaim, an immense pain pulsing in the center of your chest. You choke back on air, raising a hand to your chest, grabbing at the sting that settled in it. Your body gave up as you fell to your side slowly.

"Don't hurt her..." Bob responded. "We don't hurt her."

"She won't last." The Void, not done hazing the group, pushed glass particles towards all of you. A few miniature cuts were caused by the sharp pieces. "Robert the hero." He chuckled darkly.

To instigate him further, he felt the need to forcefully pull you towards him. He gave you a moment's worth of rest before his shadowed hand gripped itself around your neck. Lifting you off the ground five inches. You grasped at them, trying to pry them off you.

"Let her go."

"No." The Void pulled you closer to him. Its shadowed demeanor added to the fear you felt when you pushed against it. The two orbs for eyes did nothing but unsettle you. He leaned in, pressing his nose against your temple much like Bob had done earlier in a comforting manner.

Bob stepped forward, squaring his shoulders like a lion guarding its territory. "I'm stronger than you."

"Let's see." He tilted his head. Then he was shoving you onto the ground beside Bob in a split second

It didn't take Bob long to rush at him. You slumped onto your side. Your head resting against the cold ground. Your energy was drained as you tried to regain oxygen in your system. "N-No."

Void and he went at it for a few seconds. Punching, dodging. Though Void got the upper hand as Bob was sent to the floor.

"Get up, Bobby!" John encouraged.

"You thought you were gonna be some great man. Some savior." Void mocked him, Bob slowly pushing himself off the floor. "You can't even save yourself." Bob lurched forward again. Until he received multiple punches to his gut. Void threw in a good lick across his jaw before he sent him to the ground once more.

"Bob, get up...get up." Your outcry made him meet your gaze.

"We will always be alone."

If you didn't think it couldn't get worse, you were wrong, as the room expanded. Increasing the distance between you all and Bob. Out of reach.

Bob pushed up a bit, glancing at each one of you, before he made up his mind. Turning to run, to tackle Void to the ground. The ongoing right and left hooks never ended as the room began to shake and tear itself apart.

"This isn't right." Bucky shook his head.

"Bob, stop!" Yelena called out.

"It's taking over him again..." You close your eyes, feeling lightheaded. You peer down at your side, your hand pressing into your abdomen, pulling it back to take in your red-coated palm. You were bleeding. Void's manacled laughter growing as Bob continued punching the shit out of him, did not easing your worries. "T-This is what he wants..." You mutter to the rest of them before your vision grows foggy.

"Y/n?" Bucky tries to push against the light protector wrapped around him. "Hey, kid!" Bucky grunts.

With all his strength left, Alexei freed Yelena. She made a run for it. Towards Bob. Your vision gives as the last thing you see is her wrapping her arms around him.

[angeastrd]

. . . late night calls .ᐟ

natasha romanoff x fem! reader. fluff!

after a hard mission, all she wants to do is talk to her girlfriend

“Did I wake you up?” The hoarse voice of Natasha Romanoff is the first thing you hear in your bleary haze, as you blink, willing yourself to wake up. You stare at the unknown number on your screen – burner phone. She wasn’t supposed to communicate with you during missions.

“. . . Huh?” you mumble. Your eyes glance over to the clock; 2:14 A.M. glares back at you, as you focus back on the voice crackling through your phone. You shake your head, before seeming to remember that she can’t see you on the other side of the line. “No,” you correct, perhaps a little too delayed. “You didn’t wake me. Been up. For a while,” you lie. She snorts. She still didn’t understand why you tried to lie to her– she was a professional spy, for god's sake. She was always going to know. Still you liked to try. 

She doesn’t comment, instead admitting, “I needed to hear your voice.” She pauses. Was that too vulnerable? Sometimes Natasha worries that you may be in love with the Black Widow the world sees, and not the broken-down, morally gray Natasha Romanoff. She was a fragmented soul, and she dreaded the day that you would gain clarity of that and take your leave. Being with an Avenger already wasn’t easy work – hell, the title had at least a decade of trauma attached to it. It probably was in the contract. Being with the Black Widow? That was more trouble than she was worth.

“I missed you too,” you responded simply, and she was thankful that you were able to read in between the lines of what she was not brave enough to say. “I’m sorry for waking you up,” she starts, and before you can reassure her, she continues, words flowing now that she had begun, “I had to exterminate a target today. He was a HYDRA agent. He had a picture of his kids in his wallet,” she confesses, voice cracking as she tries to recompose herself. “You probably think I’m being ridiculous. Having more empathy for this random man than he had for everything I stand in,” she mutters. 

“I don’t think you’re ridiculous, Natasha. I’ve never thought that,” and you can picture the way her shoulders relax at your words. She had always worried that her flaws were too varied – and her strengths too lacking. “I think you’re incredibly strong, especially to feel so much empathy over someone who was not on your side. I love you,” you tack on, almost like a reminder that she's allowed to feel with you – she’s allowed to admit things and be vulnerable and it's okay. 

She clears her throat, and your heart aches for her. Long distance truly never got easier, but absence did make the heart fonder. “When do you come home?” you offer. Natashas' window of vulnerability had closed by now. But every time, that window got a little longer (for you. The S.H.I.E.L.D. appointed therapist still didn’t even have a window). 

She hums at that, and you can hear ruffling on the other line – she liked to talk to you before bed. It was her version of long distance pillowtalk. “Should be home tomorrow night.” she answers, as a yawn escapes your lips. “You’re tired,” she notes, and there's a hint of apology in her words. 

“‘M not even tired,” you mutter in protest, “I have never yawned in my life. Swear,” you grouse, and she lets out a soft laugh at your words. Your lips curve up at that. You always liked being able to make her laugh; she didn’t laugh unless it was genuinely funny. She laughed with you quite a lot.

“You’re a liar,” she chides. “And you snore. I miss your snoring,” she admits.

“That's gay,” you mumble, head lolling against the pillow. 

“So was the phone sex we had last night?” she counters, and you both delve into giggles. Even though the two of you were apart, you can tell that she muffled her laughs in her pillow – just like you did. 

“Shut up. I need to go to bed,” you mutter, trying to change the topic. You would probably never get used to how easy it was to talk to her. “Stay on the phone. Don’t hang up”

“Needy. Have I ever hung up on you?” she asks, the indulgence in her voice ridiculously evident. “One time your phone died,” you retort, before letting out a big yawn. “Tell me about the rest of your day” Mid-way through her story, she hears a soft snore crackle through the line. “Are you asleep right now?” 

“. . .” 

If you were awake, you’d be able to visualize the fond look on her face. “Goodnight. I love you. Sleep well,” she whispers. 

[thumblemina]

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ content warnings: 18+, mdni, fem!reader, oral, dirty talk, praise, atsumu being a lil dumbass + tease

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ word count: 1.6k

fwb!asumu who is unreliable in a way that should easily pull apart the casual strings holding together your entire precarious situation. because if he’s not playing volleyball, he’s conditioning to play volleyball, or struggling to pass classes so he can play more volleyball, or just thinking of volleyball really, and that means those ridiculous u up? texts are sporadic at best.

at worst, his responses to you slipping into his messages after two too many drinks are more often than not hitting his screen when he’s snoring at an ungodly volume.

fwb!asumu who follows up your Friday post-last-call booty call attempt the next morning at 7AM with a crying face emoji and a sweaty ab pic (that you’ve never asked for, but he always provides, and you happily return to later under your covers).

only for him to slide into your messages a week later on a Tuesday at 6PM (it’s still light out, and that should be sacrilegious, but that’s just how you both work) begging for a taste of you, waxing bad poetic about your thighs when you send the unfortunate reply that you’ve got a paper due at midnight that you need to pass your infuriating statistics class. and maybe you send him a picture of those aforementioned thighs, since it’s only fair, and then put your phone on do not disturb to ignore the 20-part emoji breakdown that follows.

fwb!asumu who when the stars do end up aligning, somehow, will still end up stumbling into your apartment after midnight an hour later than he said he would, at least with the decency of looking a bit sheepish, but that’s the only decent thing about him. his cheeks are flushed and his words are slurred, thickening his dialect in a way you’ll never admit tickles you somewhere deep in your core when you herd him inside, swatting away the sloppy kisses he’s already planting along your throat.

fwb!asumu who's kicking off his shoes next to yours when you finally shove him off to disappear for a small bathroom break, and he’s shooting you that hooded look that you expect will have him naked and warm in your bed when you return, but he’s not.

when you pass by your kitchen on your way to your room, he’s leaning against your marbled counter, taking up more space than anyone ever seems to do in your place, with a takeout container in one hand and a fork shovelling pad thai into his mouth with the other.

your pad thai.

fwb!asumu who just blinks when you spit his name, staring him down deadpan.

“this ain’t mine?” he manages through rice noodles and beansprouts, sending you that cheeky smile that knows better. he earns an eyeroll when he lies so easily, “swear it was mine.”

“that’s supposed to be my dinner tomorrow,” you grumble, crossing your arms over your chest, somehow both surprised and not at all with how much he’s been able to devour in the three minutes you left him unsupervised.

you even splurged for the 3 dollar shrimp surcharge. now three dollars poorer and somehow the fact that you know he eats the tail too makes it even worse.

he sets the takeout down, roughly wiping his mouth with his forearm in a way that should give you the ick but never does. that easy, magnetizing grin is digging into his cheek. “lemme make it up to ya, princess. promise you won’t even remember ya had it in the first place.”

fwb!asumu who is infuriating and unreliable and honestly such a bad fucking idea, but he’s consistent where it counts. in his serves, in his sets, and in the way that he already has you panting when he’s grinding your hips into your mattress, a well-conditioned thigh pressing between your legs at just the right angle that has you arching into him, his tongue is swirling in that sinful way against your throat.

“fuck, sweetheart, you keep moaning in my ear all desperate like th’t, i ain’t gonna last.”

“who’s desperate?” you breathe out, but the way that it falls like a prayer off your lips betrays you, and the smirk nestled against your skin hears it too.

fwb!asumu who tastes like cheep beer and your fucking pad thai, but when those pretty setter fingers are rolling your swollen, puffy nipples between them, tugging the precise amount that stings in that pain-please wire-cross way that makes your head spin, you are having trouble remembering anything beyond his touch. you’re gasping, but it wavers into a needy moan as soon as he ducks his head and soothes the sting with the wet heath of his mouth.

it’s sloppy in a way that he only is in bed- the obscene smack of his lips, his spit, his fucking tongue. you never understand how he can make you fall apart with just his tongue.

“ah, tsumu, more, i need more,” you’re begging, you know it and you should be embarrassed but your brain has been replaced with radio static and want. the only thing you know is the friction between your thighs, your soaked panties, and his hands roughly grabbing all over you but somehow, it's still not enough. "fuck, c'mon."

fwb!asumu who presses his thigh harder into your core, those calloused fingers moving to grab the plush of your hips and grind you down onto him in that delicious way he knows you love, voice rough when he’s saying, “think i might wait till yer desperate, though.”

you’re rolling your hips, arching your back for more, cursing the futile barrier your damp panties provide between the skin-to-skin contact you're craving. and when his teeth lightly brush against your already too-sensitive nipples, pulling a gasp from your lips, you feel the smirk before you look down to see those dark, molten eyes and see it.

“get the fuck down there, pretty boy,” you grind out, suppressing the shiver that threatens when you grab a fistful of his dyed hair, something you know he loves by the low groan that escapes him, and shove him further down your body.

fwb!asumu who’s grinning when he teases, “so demanding,” and shifts your legs on either side of his broad shoulders.

but with atsumu the teasing never stops there, because even when those pretty setter fingers are hooking your panties to the side, exposing your glistening folds to the air in a way that makes your breath hitch, and you’re rocking your hips up for more, he’s still just pressing sweet, wet kisses to your inner thighs. even when you all but whine when he runs a thick thumb along your slit, pressing meanly into your clit, puffs of hot air from his mouth close but not close enough, he still isn’t getting close enough.

“tsumu,” you huff, frustrated, threading your fingers through his hair. “stop fucking playing around.”

and he’s sucking a filthy kiss right next to your cunt, murmuring, “but you’re so fun to play with.”

fwb!asumu who will tease you and play with you and make you arch your back and fucking keen in the most infuriating way possible, who will miss your texts and eat your pad thai and show up an hour fucking late, but when he finally, finally presses that filthy mouth over your clit, it’s all suddenly so worth it.

because he’s running his broad tongue through your dripping folds, dipping his tongue to tease your entrance, collecting all that slick just to suck your clit into his mouth, and your mind fucking breaks. your eyes clamp shut, and all you can see are stars and galaxies, your ears are drowned out by the obscene wet noises he’s making or you're making you're not sure, his hands digging into the fat of your thighs, and the most pathetic little noises are leaving your mouth.

he’s nudging a finger into your entrance, soaking as he slides in so easily, and in that coarse, sexy fucking voice saying, “yeah, you’re my good fuckin' girl, aren’t ya?” in a way that you can only whimper and rock your hips into his face, any words stolen from your lips as his tongue and fingers synchronize in that way he knows to make you fall apart.

fwb!asumu who seems to know all the soft spots to unravel you, curling his fingers just right, tongue swirling and sucking just right, until there’s no arguing that you are that desperate mess. you’re only broken sobs and bucking hips and whining for more, more, more.

you're tugging at his hair now, digging your fingers into his scalp in a way that you know must be painful but when it has him groaning, raspy and wrecked, right into your pussy you absolutely can't care. the tighter you tug, it seems to spur him on even more, he's getting even sloppier with it.

and it’s that timber as he’s murmuring in that almost mocking voice, “i know, baby, i know,” when you’re clenching around his fingers that has you tumbling right off the edge, falling into the abyss, overwhelmed by white hot need.

fwb!asumu who dutifully helps you ride through the aftershocks, nudging that spongy spot inside you until your legs are limp and liquid, and then is slipping his fingers out of you and licking them clean. despite your chest still panting, and that boneless quality you know is written all of your body, you roll your eyes. “didn’t i feed you enough?”

he’s grinning down at you, and you can see his erection straining against his briefs, a promise of more to come. “can’t help it, you’re so fuckin' tasty.”

you sigh. “oh? better than my pad thai?”

fwb!asumu who laughs in a way that settles right into your core, before crawling back up your body and capturing your mouth in a searing, wet kiss. “guess i’ll just have to fuck ya harder if you still remember.”

fwb!asumu who absolutely does.

until the next day, when you’re opening what’s left of your takeout for dinner, and realizing that he absolutely did eat all your shrimp, including the fucking tails, that freak.

╰┈➤ a/n: genuinely don't know what this even is (me craving pad thai???) but he is so fucking cute omg. itching to make a follow up but have no idea where it would go lol. divider by @cafekitsune

[gyu-tori]

New Girl Next Door I '02 Line

⟢ Pairings: neighbors!02 liners x fem!reader ⟢ Genre: Fluff, Angst, Smut (mdni!!) ⟢ Warnings: mature content, explicit language and sexual content, emotional breakdown, multiple smut scenes, oral! (f! rec), p in v, unprotected!sex, protected!sex, creampie! (reader is on birth control but wasn't mentioned), Imk if i missed anything!

Summary: When you move into a quiet neighborhood for a fresh start, the last thing you expect is to live next door to three ridiculously attractive guys. What starts as neighborly banter turns into late-night confessions, stolen kisses, and a complicated tangle of feelings you can't outrun. In the end, which neighbor opens the heart of the new girl next door?

⟢ Word Count: 22.7k

The sun beats down on you as you stand on the sidewalk, the weight of the cardboard box in your arms growing more unbearable by the second. "Kitchen Stuff," it says in bold letters across the side, but right now, it feels more like an anchor than something useful. You try to hold it more comfortably by adjusting your grip, but it's impossible. You can't manage the size of the box by yourself, and the heat is making matters worse. The humid air pressing against your skin makes moving ten times more difficult.

You can't help but think back to why you're here in the first place. This is supposed to be a fresh start. Your first place. The beginning of something new, away from everything you used to know. But standing here, on the edge of this unfamiliar neighborhood, struggling with a box that you swear weighs more than it should, you can't help but feel a pang of uncertainty. A small part of you feels like you're leaving behind something you'll never be able to get back—familiar faces, the comfort of the past, the rhythm of your old life.

But then there's this, a blank slate, this house that smells of dust and potential, waiting for you to make it yours. It's a mix of excitement and fear of starting something that feels big and important but full of unknowns.

You take a deep breath, finally giving up on the box and shifting it to a new angle, but it doesn't get any easier. Just as you're about to make another attempt, a voice cuts through the air, catching your attention.

"Hey! Do you need a hand, or are you trying to fight gravity on your own?"

You blink, startled, and glance up, trying to make sense of the voice that seems to belong to a stranger standing across the street. You can barely make him out through the giant box in your arms, but you see enough: a guy with dark hair, an easy smile, and a casual stance.

You glance back at the door to your new place. You're so close, but this box is just too much. You can feel the sweat dripping down your neck, the heat threatening to overtake you, and something about the guy's voice makes you pause. Maybe it's just relief or a willingness to accept help, but you take a moment before answering.

"I've got it," you say, more out of habit than confidence. You try to shift the box again, but it only seems to get heavier.

He doesn't buy it, of course. "You sure about that? Looks like you're losing the battle to me."

You bite your lip, already feeling the awkwardness of the situation settling in. The guy's not wrong. And you're not sure why, but something in his tone makes you let go of the box just enough for him to swoop in and take it from you, lifting it without a second thought.

"You don't have to do that," you say quickly, but it's too late. Jake's already walking toward your front door.

"Don't worry about it," he calls back, glancing over his shoulder. "What's the point of neighbors if they can't help you carry heavy stuff?"

You can't help but stare after him momentarily, surprised by how easily he just took charge. And maybe, just maybe, the fact that he didn't hesitate to help makes you feel a little less alone in this sea of change.

As he heads toward your door, you hear the soft sound of footsteps from behind, and another voice cuts in, smoother and quieter than the first.

"Doesn't look like you're in control of that situation," says a taller guy with a more deliberate, calculated presence. His voice is calm and measured, and you can't help but feel the difference between him and the first guy. He seems… more reserved. You catch a quick glimpse of him this time—blond hair catching the sunlight, a sharp contrast to the other's dark hair—and it hits you how striking he looks in a quiet, unbothered way.

You look up, meeting his eyes briefly as he walks past, his hand reaching out to grab another box from you. It's a silent gesture, but there's something in the way he moves, so efficient and careful that you almost don't notice until it's too late.

"Thanks," you murmur, more to fill the space than anything else, and it almost feels normal for a moment. Like this could be the kind of neighborhood where people help each other out, where you're not alone in the chaos of moving.

You're about to say something more when you hear a soft chuckle behind you. You turn to see a third guy standing on the porch, leaning casually against the railing, earbuds in and one eyebrow raised in mild amusement.

"Who moves in during a heatwave?" he mutters under his breath, though it's loud enough for you to hear. He's smirking, clearly entertained by the whole scene.

You glance back at him, an eyebrow quirked. "It wasn't exactly my plan."

His lips curl slightly, but he doesn't say anything more, the corners of his eyes crinkling with quiet amusement as he watches the two guys carry your boxes inside.

The dark-haired one—the first to approach you—places the box down gently on your porch and wipes his hands on his shorts before flashing you another wide grin.

"I'm Jake, by the way," he says, sticking out his hand, casual and easygoing. "Welcome to the neighborhood."

You shake his hand, feeling the heat from both the sun and the moment.

The blond guy sets your second box down next to the first and straightens up, nodding slightly. "Jay," he says, his voice as clipped and efficient as his movements.

You nod, repeating their names under your breath to yourself—Jake and Jay. Easy enough.

Jake gestures toward the guy still lounging on the porch. "That grumpy one over there? That’s Sunghoon. Don’t mind the attitude—he's nicer than he looks."

Sunghoon, still smirking, pushes off the railing and gives a lazy little wave, clearly unbothered by the introduction.

"Nice to meet you," you offer, feeling a little out of breath—not just from the heat or the moving, but from the way all three of them seem so effortlessly alive, so rooted in this neighborhood you're only just stepping into.

Jake glances at your door as they finish up, then back at you. "Well, that's all of them. Not bad for a first day, right?"

You're still a little dazed from the whole experience, but you manage a small, tired smile. "Yeah, thanks. I wasn't exactly planning on getting a welcoming committee."

Jake grins, his easygoing nature infectious. "Hey, you don't get to choose your neighbors, but you can definitely make the most of it."

Jay, brushing his pale blond hair out of his eyes, quietly adds, "We've all been there. Moving's never easy."

And then there's Sunghoon, who, without a word, gives you a lazy smile from the porch as he slips his earbuds out. His gaze lingers for a moment before he turns to head back inside, leaving you standing in the doorway, feeling more exposed than you'd like.

Sure, They've helped you, but something in the air about their presence makes you feel like you're already tangled in their lives. And you're not sure if that's a good thing or not.

The quiet hum of your new house surrounds you as you close the door behind you, the weight of the box long gone. But the weight of everything else—the newness, the uncertainty, the fact that you're not entirely sure what's next—settles into your chest.

It's a strange feeling. And you wonder if you'll ever get used to it.

Later at night, the house smells like cardboard and lemon-scented floor cleaner. Somewhere in the chaos, a candle burns on the kitchen counter—your half-hearted attempt at pretending this is home already. The living room is still a jungle of boxes, some half-unpacked, others just… there.

You're sitting cross-legged on the floor, wearing the same sweaty shirt from earlier, your hair tied up in a messy knot. A takeout container sits abandoned at your side, half-eaten. Your phone leans against a ceramic mug, propped up just enough for the screen to catch your face as it rings.

It connects after the third ring. Two familiar faces appear side by side—Taehyun and Hueningkai squished into the frame like some kind of chaotic commentary duo.

"Hey!" Kai chirps immediately, waving like it's been years. "You survived!"

Taehyun just stares at you. "You look like a raccoon that got hit by a moving truck."

You groan and flop backward against a pile of throw blankets. "Because I was hit. By heat. And gravity. And my own bad decisions."

"I told you to hire movers," Taehyun says, smug.

"I told you to marry rich," Kai adds, popping a gummy bear into his mouth.

"I hate both of you," you mutter, smiling despite yourself. "You'll never believe what happened though."

Kai leans closer to the camera. "Don't say you fell in love with your delivery guy. I've already written three fanfics about that scenario in my head."

"Worse," you deadpan. "There's a house across the street. With three guys. All stupidly attractive. All mysteriously helpful, well, two of them were."

That gets their attention. Taehyun raises a brow. "Define 'stupidly attractive.'"

"Like… if someone Photoshopped the members of a boy group into a lifestyle commercial about clean living and emotional repression."

Kai gasps. "You moved into a K-drama."

Taehyun smirks. "So which one's the tsundere? There's always one."

You glance at the ceiling. "His name's Sunghoon. He didn't even help me. Just made fun of me from the porch like some aloof anime rival."

Kai practically squeals. "I knew it. And the charming golden retriever type?"

"That's Jake. He carried the heaviest box like it was made of feathers. Told me gravity was optional."

"And the serious one with good hair?" Taehyun asks knowingly.

"Jay. Quiet. Blonde. Looks like he'd be the type that reads classic literature for fun and judges people for using too much seasoning. Wait, how the fuck are you describing them so accurately?"

Kai clutches his chest. "This has sitcom energy written all over it."

You laugh, rubbing at your face. "It was surreal. They introduced themselves like some unofficial welcome committee. Jake even carried boxes. Jay took one without asking. Sunghoon just… watched like he was grading the situation."

Taehyun tilts his head, a ghost of a smile on his face. "How are you feeling about all this?"

You fall silent for a second, picking at the edge of a moving label on the nearest box. "Weird. Everything's so new. The house doesn't feel like mine yet. I don't have anything figured out. But… when they helped me earlier? For a second, I didn't feel so alone."

Kai softens. "You're not. You've got us. And apparently, three hot neighbors who lift heavy things and emotionally confuse you."

"Don't trip and fall into one of them," Taehyun says, deadpan.

Kai wiggles his eyebrows. "Or do. It'd be iconic."

You smile, warm and tired. "Thanks for the chaos. Seriously."

"Anytime," they echo in unison.

You end the call eventually, but your heart feels a little lighter, your chest a little less heavy. Outside the window, the porch light across the street is still on. Someone walks by it, probably heading inside for the night. You don't know which one of them it was, but something about it feels oddly comforting.

You look around the mess of boxes, tape, and takeout containers. The place still doesn't feel like home. But maybe, just maybe, it's starting to. 

It's only been two days, but you've developed an instinct: anytime there's a knock on the door, brace for chaos.

You wipe your hands on your shorts—mid-unpacking again because somehow there are always more boxes—and shuffle over to the front door. The knock comes again. Three sharp raps. Light, but too coordinated to be a delivery guy.

You open the door. And there they are. Again.

Jake stands in the middle, wearing that same easy grin, holding a tin of cookies like a peace offering. Jay is beside him, arms crossed, his face unreadable but not unfriendly. Sunghoon is lingering slightly behind the other two, earbuds slung around his neck this time instead of buried in his ears. His hands are in his pockets, head tilted as if this whole situation mildly amuses him.

"Hi," Jake says brightly, as if this is normal. "We come bearing gifts."

You stare at the tin. Then at them. "Did you bake those yourselves or rob a bakery on the way here?"

Jake gasps—faux offense. "We slaved over a hot oven for... okay, no. We bought them."

You raise an eyebrow and reach out, flipping the tin. The price sticker is still on the bottom. "Huh. Team effort, huh?"

Jake shrugs with zero shame. "Jay drove, Sunghoon carried the bag, and I chose the cookies."

"I see we're operating on shared delusion," you mutter, but you're already stepping aside and holding the door open. "Fine. Come in. But if one of you eats all the Oreos from my pantry, I'm changing the Wi-Fi password you don't even have yet."

Jake's eyes light up. "You do have Oreos?"

Jay gives him a look. "Focus."

They file inside like they've done this before, scattering across your barely-arranged living room. You mentally brace yourself for judgment, but to your surprise, none comes.

Jake plops onto the floor and opens the cookie tin like it's sacred. "So, how's it going? Still finding mystery boxes labeled 'can be kitchen or bedroom'?"

You gesture vaguely to a corner filled with mismatched mugs, cleaning supplies, and a random lava lamp. "I've made peace with being a functional disaster."

"Same," Jake says around a cookie. "That's why I bought a cactus. Low expectations."

You glance at Sunghoon. He's wandered over to your bookshelves, running a finger along the spines like he's trying to decode your personality through fiction.

He glances at you, then at a copy of The Picture of Dorian Gray. "Oscar Wilde and ramen. You're eclectic."

You cross your arms. "You say that like it's a warning."

Sunghoon smiles faintly. "Just an observation."

Jay, meanwhile, is looking at the thermostat. He points. "That dial's finicky. You'll need to jiggle it clockwise before it actually responds."

You blink. "Are you... giving me house maintenance advice?"

He shrugs. "Better than waiting for it to freeze you out. The water pressure in the upstairs bathroom sucks, too. You'll want to test the downstairs one first."

You study him. Jay doesn't talk much, but when he does, it's like he's already thought the whole thing through twice. There's a quiet kind of attentiveness to him you missed the first time.

"Noted," you murmur, and he nods once, then goes back to inspecting a sticky note on your fridge that says "Buy toilet paper" with the seriousness of someone solving a crime.

Jake's now halfway through the cookies. "You should join us for dinner sometime. Jay usually cooks. Sunghoon critiques it. I set the mood."

You squint. "Define 'set the mood.'"

"Playlist," Jake replies confidently. "Mostly 2000s boy bands. A little Mariah Carey."

Sunghoon raises an eyebrow. "You put Pitbull on the last playlist."

"I stand by that."

You shake your head, already regretting asking. But your smile won't go away. It's strange—how easily they occupy a space. You haven't figured out how they feel less like strangers and more like a sitcom cast yet.

Eventually, the cookies are reduced to crumbs, and the boys stand to leave.

Jay's the first to step out, nodding at you like a quiet promise. "Text me if you can't get the thermostat to work. I can walk you through it."

Jake points finger guns on the way out. "Welcome to the neighborhood."

Sunghoon's the last to leave, pausing in your doorway. "If you ever need silence, our rooftop is quiet around 11 p.m."

You blink. "That... was surprisingly thoughtful."

He shrugs one shoulder. "Don't read into it."

Then they're gone. The door clicks shut behind them, and your living room feels a little too quiet.

You stare down at the half-empty tin and snort softly. Store-bought cookies and three very different kinds of neighborly chaos. This whole street might be a fever dream.

Still... you're not complaining.

The street is unusually tranquil tonight.

You hadn't planned on doing anything, really. Maybe finishing the ramen you half-cooked or finally tackling the hellscape that is your bedroom closet. But the trash bag sitting by the front door demanded attention, and now here you are—barefoot, in pajama pants and an old hoodie, holding a slightly torn bag of garbage while the summer night air presses against your skin like a damp towel.

You mutter to yourself as you struggle with the bin lid, fumbling in the dark. "Cool. Glamorous. Totally thriving."

Then, a voice floats from the left—low and amused.

"Hoodie and pajama pants combo. Brave."

You nearly jump out of your skin.

You turn your head sharply and spot him—Sunghoon—leaning against the short wooden fence that divides your yard from the sidewalk. He's in joggers and a fitted t-shirt, sweat darkening the neckline and clinging slightly to his collarbone. His hair's damp, sticking up in the wrong places. There's a sheen of sweat on his skin that catches the moonlight.

You narrow your eyes. "You always sneak up on women taking out the trash?"

He lifts a shoulder in a slow shrug. "Just finished a run. Didn't think I'd interrupt a dramatic garbage disposal."

You roll your eyes, but your mouth twitches. "Are you mocking me or flirting with me? I need to know what I'm working with."

He lets out a quiet laugh. It's short but real.

"I don't flirt in pajama pants hour," he says, adding, "But if I were, I'd at least bring coffee."

You cross your arms, stepping closer to the fence. "Is that your way of saying I should step up my late-night attire game?"

"I mean," he muses, "you did match the hoodie and pants. That's effort." You smile despite yourself. It's the kind of smile that sneaks up on you—gentle, unforced.

There's a long pause. Not uncomfortable, just… quiet. You both linger there, separated only by a few wooden boards and the rare stillness in this city. The kind that hums beneath your skin.

He glances up at the sky. "You can't see much here. Too much light pollution. No real stars."

You follow his gaze. "They're still there. Just hiding."

Another silence. A softer one.

"I like this time of night," he says eventually. "It feels like the world stops pretending."

You blink, surprised at its rawness. "What do you mean?"

He chews on the inside of his cheek. "People don't perform as much at night. It's too quiet to pretend you're fine all the time."

You watch him for a beat, the way his profile softens in the streetlight's glow. Something about it—him—feels real in a way you didn't expect. Not right away.

You toe at the grass under your foot. "Do you always get philosophical after cardio?"

He grins. "Only when the moon's judgmental."

Another pause. You glance toward your house. The light from your living room spills into the yard, casting a warm haze over the porch. Your half-unpacked boxes are still stacked by the entryway. Inside, it feels like chaos. But here? Out here with him? It feels like the eye of the storm.

You lean on the fence a little. "I think I like this time too."

He nods, slow and deliberate. "You can come out here sometimes. If you need quiet."

You tilt your head. "Is this an invitation?"

His eyes flick to yours, something unreadable in them. "It's not a rejection."

That leaves you quiet.

He pushes off the fence after a beat, stretching his arms behind his back. "Anyway. Try not to get eaten by raccoons out here."

"Noted."

"Night, pajama girl."

"Night, cardio boy."

He disappears into his side of the house, and you're left in the quiet again—but it feels different this time.

Fuller. Warmer.

It started small.

One Saturday, Jake stood on your porch wearing sunglasses and an alarming amount of enthusiasm, shaking a to-go coffee at you like a bribe.

"You have to experience the only good brunch spot in this hellhole," he declared as if it was a moral obligation. "It's part of your initiation."

You had still been in your pajama pants, hair half-tied up with a pen, clutching a list of chores you didn't actually want to do. And somehow, despite every intention of saying no, you ended up shoved into the backseat of Jake's car between a box of reusable shopping bags and a stray soccer ball.

Jay was already there when you arrived—leaning against the café's outdoor railing, stirring a coffee with slow, deliberate movements. He barely glanced up as you approached, just giving a slight chin tilt that said both hey and you're late at the same time.

Sunghoon arrived five minutes later, sliding into the seat across from you with his hoodie pulled over his head. His sunglasses covered half his face as if he were recovering from a hangover.

"Is he okay?" you asked, a little concerned.

Jake just laughed. "This is his okay."

Sunghoon flicked a piece of toast at Jake without a word.

You learned quickly that mornings with them had their own rhythm: Jay always ordered something complicated with substitutions, Sunghoon barely ate but stole bites from other people's plates, and Jake talked enough for all three of them combined.

You just tried to survive it.

From there, the Saturdays started piling up.

Somehow, without asking permission, they became part of your calendar.

Not an obligation. Not even a real plan. Just... expected.

You ended up at the local flea market one morning, supposedly "just browsing."

Jake, predictably, lost focus immediately.

You found him twenty minutes later trying to convince a vendor to sell him a neon lava lamp for half price.

"It's vintage," Jake argued, clutching it like a trophy.

The vendor, a stone-faced woman in her seventies, was unmoved. "It's tacky."

Jay, appearing behind you with a basket of vinyl records tucked under his arm, deadpanned, "So is he. Let him have it."

Jake beamed at the accidental endorsement.

Meanwhile, Sunghoon had vanished somewhere near the food stands. You spotted him across the way, balancing two cups of iced coffee precariously in one hand while texting with the other. He noticed you looking and offered the tiniest shrug that somehow said, What? I'm a multitasker.

You shook your head, laughing under your breath.

When he finally made it back, he set a cup in front of you without comment—exactly how you liked it. No sugar, extra ice. You blinked, surprised he remembered.

He didn't say anything. He just nudged it toward you casually, like it was no big deal.

Your heart did a weird little somersault.

You told yourself it was just the caffeine kicking in.

Later that afternoon, it was the plant shop.

You wandered between the rows of succulents and spider plants while Jake trailed dramatically behind you, narrating like a nature documentary.

"Observe the wild Y/N in her natural habitat," he whispered loudly. "Drawn instinctively to small, low-commitment life forms."

You smacked him with a fern.

Jay stood by the pots section, analyzing the designs as if they were ancient artifacts. You watched him turn a terracotta pot over in his hands, checking the drainage holes with an almost surgical focus.

"You're taking this very seriously," you said, amused.

Jay glanced at you, one eyebrow raised. "Bad drainage kills the roots. You can't half-ass the foundation."

You stared at him for a beat longer than necessary. Something about how he said it was sticking to your ribs. It's not just about plants, maybe. About everything.

Sunghoon, for his part, picked the most miniature succulent he could find—a tiny thing barely bigger than his thumb—and declared it was "enough commitment for now."

You arched an eyebrow. "Afraid of responsibility?"

He smirked, spinning the pot once between his fingers. "Afraid of overwatering."

You didn't know what to say to that, exactly. It felt like it meant something more.

Maybe everything did with him.

Maybe with all of them.

You ended the afternoon with a pile of plants, an overpriced lava lamp, and a half-melted ice cream cone because Jake insisted that no weekend adventure was complete without dessert.

Back at your house, you all lounged on your front porch, the sun drifting below the rooftops, painting everything in soft gold.

Jay sat cross-legged on the steps, scrolling idly on his phone.

Sunghoon leaned back against the railing, eyes half-closed, humming quietly under his breath.

Jake sprawled across two chairs like he owned the place, tossing pebbles at an invisible target.

You watched them—these three chaotic, complicated, impossible boys—and for the first time in a long time, you felt it.

That tentative thing in your chest.

Like maybe...

Maybe you were allowed to belong somewhere again.

Maybe you didn’t have to keep looking over your shoulder, wondering when you’d have to leave.

The thought scared you a little.

But it also made you smile.

You were halfway through a very glamorous evening of folding laundry and pretending to organize your books when you heard it — three quick raps against the wood, familiar now in a way that made your heart stutter for reasons you refused to unpack.

When you opened the door, Jake stood there, a sheepish grin on his face and his hands stuffed into the pockets of his hoodie.

"Hey. So, um—" He glanced back over his shoulder like he was checking to ensure no one was watching. "Jay's making dinner tonight. Actual dinner, not just ramen and regret."

You smiled. "Sounds fancy."

He laughed. "Yeah, well. He got a new recipe from some cooking show, and Sunghoon dared him to try it. This means it's either going to be amazing or we're all going to die dramatically. Wanna come?"

There it was again—that warm, fuzzy feeling in your chest.

"Sure," you said, sounding casual like your brain wasn't already spiraling into what-the-hell-do-I-wear mode.

Jake's whole face lit up. "Awesome. Come hungry. And maybe bring a fire extinguisher. Just in case."

You laughed as he backed down the porch steps, throwing you a wink before jogging across the street.

The moment the door shut, you practically sprinted for your phone.

You flopped onto your bed, FaceTiming Taehyun and Kai, who answered almost immediately.

"What's up, new girl?" Taehyun said, lounging sideways across his couch like a cat.

Kai leaned over his shoulder, grinning. "You look stressed. Bad date? Broken appliance? Existential dread?"

You huffed. "Worse. Dinner invite."

They stared at you.

"You're gonna have to be much more specific, with which one?" Taehyun said.

"With all three of them," you clarified, feeling your face heat. "Tonight. Like—an actual dinner. Jay's cooking."

Taehyun immediately sat up. "Oh my god."

Kai let out a low whistle. "It's happening. She's starting a harem."

You scowled. "Nothing is happening. It's just dinner."

They exchanged the most irritatingly synchronized look you'd ever seen.

"Right," Taehyun said, dragging the word out. "Just dinner with three hot boys who you happen to banter with every day and who happen to look at you like you're the only person on Earth sometimes."

Kai nodded solemnly. "Totally normal. No notes."

You threw a pillow at the screen. "Help me pick an outfit or I'm ending the call."

That got them moving.

Taehyun instructed you to hold up options one by one while he gave devastating critiques, and Kai kept interjecting with commentary like "That top says 'I could fall in love with you by accident,' but the jeans say 'don't talk to me before coffee.'"

Ultimately, you settled on something simple: a soft sweater that made your eyes pop, your favorite jeans, and a necklace you always wore when you needed extra courage.

Not too much. Not too little.

Just... safe.

"You're gonna kill them," Kai said, popping a gummy bear into his mouth.

Taehyun pointed at you through the screen. "Remember, confidence. And if Jay burns the food, pretend to faint from hunger. Drama earns points."

You laughed, feeling the nervous energy settle just a little. "Thanks, guys."

"Anytime," they chorused.

You hung up, checked yourself once in the mirror, and tried to pretend it was no big deal.

You were just going to dinner with your neighbors.

Just dinner.

With 3 absolutely hot neighbors...

The sun had just started dipping by the time you crossed the street.

When you walked in, the dining table was already set—not just a "grab a fork and sit down" set. It had actual placements, folded napkins, and a tiny glass vase in the center with a few delicate white flowers. The soft glow from the warm ceiling light made everything look golden—inviting, even.

"You guys... went full Pinterest," you said, a little stunned.

"Jake," Jay replied dryly from the kitchen without turning around, "raided the neighbor's garden."

"Borrowed," Jake corrected, popping up beside you with a grin. "With an intense respect for nature. And a pair of scissors."

Sunghoon, already sitting with one leg tucked under the other, lifted his water glass. "He asked for help holding the flowers and then nearly cut my thumb off."

You smiled, your nervousness softening under their easy banter. "I feel like I've walked into a dinner party for a queen."

"You're not wrong," Sunghoon said, lips twitching.

Jay emerged from the kitchen carrying a large pan of steaming, delicious-smelling food and placed it in the middle of the table like it was sacred.

"Okay," he said, wiping his hands on a towel, "tonight's main course: soy-garlic glazed chicken thighs with roasted sesame vegetables and rice. Do not insult it. I've already questioned my life choices enough to make it."

You blinked.

Jake leaned in, whispering, "He's been watching that Michelin chef series. Every time they yell at someone, he takes it personally."

Jay rolled his eyes, but the corner of his mouth twitched.

Sunghoon was already spooning rice onto his plate with the same seriousness people reserved for surgery.

You sat carefully, letting the moment wash over you—the warm clatter of dishes, the murmur of overlapping voices, the smell of garlic and soy and something subtly sweet.

The food was really good.

"You weren't kidding," you said around a bite of perfectly cooked chicken. "This tastes like you robbed a restaurant."

"That's the only kind of crime I condone," Jake said, pouring you a drink. "Well, that and the emotional kind."

Jay gave him a warning glance. "Don't start."

But Jake already had.

"Oh, did you know," he said, resting his chin in his palm like he was about to share state secrets, "that Jay once tried to make gnocchi from scratch and cried when it turned out grey?"

"It was supposed to be beetroot pink," Jay muttered, scowling at his plate.

"Color doesn't change flavor," Sunghoon added, deadpan. "But his soul was crushed."

"Can't believe you're doing this in front of our guest," Jay muttered, but he didn't really seem mad. His voice was warmer than before. Less guarded. They kept roasting each other, telling half-stories that trailed off in laughter. You listened more than you talked at first, taking in how different they were yet somehow perfectly chaotic. 

Jake was the loudest. He always leaned forward, gesturing with a fork and tossing his head back when he laughed.

Sunghoon didn't talk as much, but every time he did, it was to deliver a dry, perfectly timed punchline that had everyone howling.

And Jay... Jay was precise. Quiet, but not cold. The kind of person who only spoke when he had something worth saying—or when he wanted to cut through the noise with something disarmingly honest.

"So," Jake turned to you, mid-meal, "what's your go-to comfort meal?"

You blinked. "Like... childhood favorite? Or post-breakup survival?"

"Both," he grinned.

"Mac and cheese for childhood. And pancakes for heartbreak," you answered.

Sunghoon nodded like that made complete sense. "Sweet over salty. Coping through carbs. Acceptable."

"What about you guys?" you asked, curious now.

Jay answered first, quietly. "My mom's doenjang-jjigae. It's the only thing I ever ask for when I visit."

Jake said, "Spam and rice with ketchup. It sounds cursed, but it hits."

Sunghoon shrugged. "Toast."

You looked at him. "Just... toast?"

He met your gaze evenly. "Emotional damage lowers the bar."

That made you laugh so hard that Jake nearly spit out his drink. Even Jay cracked a genuine smile.

You didn't remember the last time you laughed this much over dinner. The kind of laughter that makes your face ache in the best way.

Somewhere between second helpings and a debate about which anime protagonist would win in a street fight, you caught Jake watching you—not just glancing, watching. And when you looked back, he didn't flinch away.

Neither did you.

Jay noticed, too. You could feel it in the shift of the air.

You looked away.

You weren't ready to face whatever that was. Not yet.

Later, when dinner was over, and everyone was sinking into the couch with soft drinks and sleepy smiles, Jay quietly brought you a mug of hot tea without a word and handed you the blanket Sunghoon had kicked off.

You curled up under it, more aware than ever of how easily your life had started to rearrange itself.

You weren't sure what to do with that knowledge.

The laughter from the living room was light, the kind of easy noise that made you forget all about the stress of unpacking and moving in. You, Jake, and Sunghoon were sprawled out on the couch, half-watching a movie as you chatted about random things, their voices filling the room with comfortable noise. You hadn't even noticed how much time had passed since dinner. It felt like you were finally getting into a groove here, like maybe this whole moving thing wasn't so bad after all.

And then, there was a knock on the door.

It wasn't an urgent knock, just a soft tap, like whoever was on the other side wasn't entirely sure if they should be there. You thought nothing of it for a moment, too wrapped up in the conversation to even register it.

But then Jay, who had been lounging nearby, got up, his blonde hair messy but effortlessly styled as always, and strolled over to the door. You barely had time to process that someone was at the door before Jay opened it.

A man stood on the other side, his back mostly to you, his posture confident and sure, like he was someone who had every right to be here. He spoke first, his voice calm and polite. "Hey, uh... I'm looking for someone."

Jay raised an eyebrow, sizing him up for a moment. "Who are you looking for?"

The man didn't seem fazed by the question. Instead, he offered a small, polite smile before responding, "I heard someone named Y/N moved into the neighborhood recently. Do you know her?"

Jay hesitated momentarily, then gave the man a nod, still blocking the door slightly. "Yeah, she's inside. I'll let her know you're here."

Jay glanced over his shoulder, his voice casual but carrying an undercurrent of something more. "Y/N, someone's here to see you."

You froze mid-laugh, the words taking a moment to register. Your heart gave an unexpected lurch, the sound of your name hanging in the air like a strange omen. You weren't expecting anyone tonight. The weight of Jay's words and the way the room fell silent for just a moment caught you off guard. You stood up, your movements slower than usual, and instinctively turned to Jake and Sunghoon, who had gone quiet, too.

Jake shot you a quick look. "Who is it?"

You shrugged, unsure of how to respond. You weren't expecting visitors. At least, not like this.

Jay stepped aside when you reached the door, allowing you to face the visitor. The guy standing there still had his head looking down, but his posture, his clothes, and his neatness seemed so oddly familiar, like something that didn't belong here in this neighborhood. It made your chest tighten with some unexplainable feeling.

When he finally looked up to face you, everything seemed to freeze.

You immediately recognized him. The man standing there wasn't just any stranger. He was someone you'd known far too well. Your breath hitched, and your heart beat a little faster. It was a feeling you hadn't expected, not here, not now.

It was him.

"Hee?" you whispered, almost too softly for anyone else to hear, your voice catching in the air like it had been waiting for this moment to break free. It was the only thing you could think to say, but the realization hit you like a flood. Your heart stumbled in your chest, suddenly unsure how to process the situation.

He stood there for a split second longer, unsure how to answer you. And then, the same calm smile you remembered so well tugged at the corner of his mouth. His eyes softened, but there was an air of something complicated behind them.

"Yeah, it's me," he said quietly, almost sheepishly.

Jay glanced between the two of you, his eyes flickering with a flicker of something — maybe recognition, maybe just curiosity — before his voice cut through the air once again, sharp but almost forced in its neutrality.

"Do you two know each other?" Jay asked, his tone casual but with a layer of something underneath that you didn't quite catch.

You nodded, though your throat felt tight. "Yeah. We… we know each other," you said, the words coming out quieter than you intended. Your gaze flickered between Jay and the man in the doorway, and you felt the weight of the situation settle heavily on your shoulders.

"Right," Jay said, his gaze shifting back to you. The brief interaction between you and Heeseung hung in the air like something unspoken. You could feel the weight of his gaze, but you barely had time to register it before the man in front of you spoke again, his voice slightly more casual this time.

"I'm here for a work trip. I heard you moved into the area and thought I'd drop by," he said, his tone almost too calm, like he wasn't standing on the threshold of a past you'd both tried to move on from.

The air around you seemed to grow heavier like the past was reaching out to you. Heeseung's presence felt like something you hadn't prepared for, but there he was, looking like he hadn't aged a day since the last time you'd seen him.

Jay, ever the neutral one, gave a quick glance over his shoulder, his voice cutting through the silence. "Well, we're just hanging out. If you need something, I'm sure you can find it elsewhere in the neighborhood."

He wasn't being rude intentionally, but something in his tone made you think Jay was ready for this interaction to be over. He wasn't wrong. You weren't sure how to handle this, how to fit the person from your past into this new life that felt so different from everything that had come before.

For a moment, Heeseung hesitated, as if unsure of what to do next. He stood there for a second, his hands still tucked into his jacket pockets. He didn't push further, but the awkwardness was palpable. He didn't ask to come inside, and you didn't invite him in. He just lingered, standing on the threshold, his gaze never leaving you.

"Are you just visiting?" you asked, your voice too soft and unsure.

Heeseung nodded slowly. "Yeah. Just for a couple of days. It's for work, but I'll be here for a while."

You nodded back, unsure of what else to say. It didn't feel like he was here for some grand reunion, but it didn't feel like a simple neighborly visit either. The lingering question of why he'd chosen tonight—of all nights—to show up hit you like a quiet punch to the gut.

Jay, who had been watching quietly, seemed to sense your discomfort and stepped forward. He crossed his arms, blocking Heeseung from fully entering. His tone was calm but firm.

"Is that it?" Jay said, his voice low but pointed. "You can go now."

Heeseung didn't flinch. Instead, he glanced at Jay, confused but not deterred. "I'm not here to fight," Heeseung said, his eyes softening as he looked back at you. "I just... I wanted to talk. To explain things. We never really got closure, Y/N."

The request hung in the air, too heavy for you to ignore, but you didn't know what to say. Your mind was racing, trying to sort through the mess of emotions that had resurfaced. Before you could respond, Jake and Sunghoon, who had been lounging in the living room, finally noticed the shift and walked over, their expressions unreadable but attentive.

Jake was the first to speak, his tone casual, but the undercurrent of seriousness was unmistakable. "Not the right time, man," he said. "You should go."

Heeseung's eyes darted between the three of you, sensing the subtle but firm boundary you were all setting. He didn't back down immediately, though, his jaw tightening.

"Y/N, please," Heeseung pressed, his voice pleading now, the calmness starting to crack. "I've been thinking about everything. I know I messed up, but I... I want to try again. I just need you to listen—"

Seeing you back up unconsciously, Jay stepped forward without hesitation and raised his voice just enough to cut through the tension. "No. She doesn't need to listen to you. You've had your chance."

Sunghoon leaned in slightly, his voice dry but light. "Did you seriously think she'd be interested in a visit from you right now?" His eyes gleamed with mischief. "Not exactly the warmest welcome, huh?"

Heeseung looked at him, caught off guard by the casual comment, but before he could respond, Jake spoke up. "Who are you, even?" His tone was laced with a mix of curiosity and protectiveness.

Heeseung's eyes flickered between the three of them—Jake, Sunghoon, and Jay—his confusion mounting. "Who are these guys?" he asked, trying to make sense of the situation. "Why are they...?"

Jay didn't let him finish. He stepped forward briefly, placing a protective hand on your shoulder. "I'm her boyfriend," he said, his voice carrying a subtle yet undeniable firmness. "Can't I just hang out with my girl and my bros simultaneously without some sleazy ex disturbing us?"

The words hit Heeseung harder than expected. His face fell, a mix of hurt and frustration crossing his features, but Jay didn't give him a chance to respond.

Jay kept his gaze locked on Heeseung, not even blinking. "You need to leave," he said again, his tone now dangerously calm.

Heeseung's lips parted as if he was going to argue, but instead, he just sighed, his shoulders sagging. Without another word, he turned away, his footsteps retreating into the quiet night.

The door clicked shut with a finality that made you feel like you could finally breathe again.

There was silence for a few moments. You didn't know what to say, your mind still reeling from the confrontation. Jay moved away from the door, stepping back to stand beside you. He gave you a quiet glance but didn't press you for anything.

You exhaled, your body relaxing slightly as the tension began to dissolve. "I didn't... expect him to show up like that," you murmured, still shaken.

Sunghoon sighs lightly, crossing his arms with a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Yeah, you don't have to tell us anything, don't worry, and hey, who would've guessed Jay's got that boyfriend vibe down already?" He chuckled, clearly amused. 

Jake leaned back against the couch, arms crossed with an amused glint in his eyes. "Nah, Jay's too smooth for that. He just knew exactly how to handle it."

Jay shrugged, his usual calm composure in place. "I just don't want to see you get hurt, that's all. Wouldn't be a good 'boyfriend' if I didn't defend my girl, you know?" he said softly, his gaze meeting yours for a moment longer than necessary.

You rolled your eyes but couldn't suppress a smile. "You guys are ridiculous, you know that?" you muttered, though your voice held no real bite.

Sunghoon winked at you from the side. "We'll keep being ridiculous. You seem to like it, anyway."

You shook your head, the warmth of their teasing finally washing over you. "Yeah, I suppose," you said with a soft sigh. 

Jake nudged you with his elbow. "Just don't forget who's got your back, yeah?"

You glanced over at him, then at Sunghoon, who had a sly smile on his face. "I won't forget. Thanks, guys."

Jay raised an eyebrow, a playful glint in his eyes. "If I were you, I'd make sure Heeseung doesn't return. I'm not giving up this 'boyfriend' role anytime soon."

"Fake boyfriend, don't get too ahead of yourself there," Jake interjects, his tone hinting at something you can't really pinpoint.

You let out a small laugh, the absurdity of the situation finally hitting you. "You're all nuts," you said, but the fondness was evident in your voice.

Sunghoon leaned back, stretching his legs out. "I'm pretty sure we're not the only crazy ones in this room."

The rest of the night was easy and light, with the boys joking and talking. For the first time in a while, you felt like maybe things were starting to feel a little more normal.

The soft rays of the early morning sun filtered through the curtains, casting long shadows on the living room floor. You woke up slowly, the warmth of a blanket draped over you, the smell of something delicious filling the air.

You blinked, adjusting to the light. The couch was surprisingly comfortable, and you realized with a start that you had somehow ended up curled up on it. Your body was stiff from the position, but you didn't mind. The night had been an unexpected mix of awkwardness and something more, and you weren't sure if it was the exhaustion or the intimacy of the situation that made you feel so strangely content.

But what caught your attention first wasn't the gentle stirrings of the morning. It was the sound of someone humming softly in the kitchen, the soft clinking of pots and pans. You turned your head and spotted Jay in the kitchen, his back to you as he flipped something in a pan. The light from the windows caught in his hair, and you had to admit—he looked good in the morning light, effortlessly natural, like this was just another day.

You blinked again, still trying to shake off the sleep. The two others—Jake and Sunghoon—were still fast asleep on the couch beside you. 

You chuckled softly to yourself. "Well, that's one way to start the day."

Jay turned at the sound of your voice, giving you a smile that was a mix of surprise and something else you couldn't quite place. "Morning, sleepyhead. You slept well?"

You nodded, pulling yourself up into a sitting position. "Yeah, surprisingly. But I need to head back to my house and shower. I've got some chores to do and… I don't know, just need a fresh start to the day."

Jay chuckled, shaking his head. "Well, before you go, you've gotta eat something. I'm making breakfast. Don't leave on an empty stomach."

You hesitated, feeling a slight pang of guilt. "I should really head home, Jay. I can't stay."

"Come on, just a quick bite," he insisted, moving to plate a couple of eggs and toast. "You've been through a lot. Let me take care of you for today."

You gave in, your stomach grumbling at the smell of food. "Okay, fine. But just a little."

Jay smiled as if he'd won a small victory, placing the plate before you. As you sat down at the kitchen island, you couldn't help but notice how effortlessly he moved around the kitchen, the way he worked with a confidence that seemed so natural.

"You sure you don't need help with that?" you asked, eyeing the rest of the cooking.

"Nah, this is easy," he said, shrugging it off. "Besides, you just sit there and enjoy the food."

With that, you dug in. It felt nice to eat something that wasn't takeout or microwaved food, especially after everything that had happened. The simple comfort of a home-cooked meal made you feel grounded, even for a moment.

Jay watched you quietly for a second before his voice broke the silence again. "So, how are you holding up after last night?" he asked casually, though there was a hint of concern in his eyes.

You paused, swallowing your food before answering. "Honestly, I'm a little shaken. It was… unexpected. Heeseung showing up and everything. I wasn't ready for that."

Jay nodded, taking the seat beside you and setting his coffee down. "I get it. It wasn't easy for you. But you handled it well. I'm glad you didn't let him push you around."

You offered him a small smile, grateful for his support. "I don't think I could've if it weren't for you."

Jay waved it off, his usual confident demeanor slipping back in place. "It's no big deal. You know I've got your back, no matter what."

You finished your breakfast quietly, and the tension from the previous day slowly started to lift. As you got up to leave, you couldn't help but notice how Jake and Sunghoon were still fast asleep on the couch, tangled up in a rather ridiculous position. Ironically, Jake's arm was draped over Sunghoon, who had somehow ended up with his head on Jake's chest. They looked utterly oblivious to the world around them, peaceful in their shared slumber.

You chuckled softly to yourself. "They look ridiculous," you muttered under your breath, shaking your head at their unexpected closeness.

Jay raised an eyebrow, a playful smirk tugging at his lips. "You mean to tell me those two aren't a couple? They act like it."

"Definitely not," you said with a laugh, standing up from your seat. "But they seem pretty comfortable."

Jay shrugged, seemingly unbothered by their unusual position. "Whatever works for them. Alright, go on. I'll wake them up later."

You nodded, giving him a grateful smile. "Thanks, Jay. I appreciate it."

With a last glance at the boys, you made your way back to your house, the silence between you and Jay hanging in the air as he saw you out.

The morning light filtered through the trees as you walked back to your front door, and for the first time in days, you felt like things might be okay again.

The boys had done their best to distract you last night—keeping the mood light with inside jokes, teasing, and comfort in a way that only friends who felt like family could. But now, in the quiet of your own home, the buzzing noise in your head returned.

You needed to talk to someone who knew you. The one who had cried to the same two people through breakups, hangovers, panic attacks, and post-midterm breakdowns.

Taehyun and Kai were only a FaceTime away.

You hesitated at first, the weight of the call lingering in your thumb. What were you even going to say? "Hey, so my ex showed up, got wrecked by the new boys next door, and now I'm accidentally sort-of-fake-dating one of them?" It sounded absurd even in your head.

Still, you tapped the call button.

Within seconds, Taehyun's face popped onto the screen, his hair messily styled, the lighting behind him unmistakably warm and homey. He grinned like he'd been waiting for this call all day.

"Y/N!" he sang, dragging out your name with theatrical flair. "There she is. My emotionally unstable yet stunning bestie. What's going on? You look... tired. Did a raccoon break into your house? Or was it another boy this time?"

You rolled your eyes, a tired smile tugging at your lips. "You could say that," you murmured, settling back against the pillows. "Heeseung showed up."

Taehyun blinked. Then blinked again. "Heeseung as in your 'it's not you, it's my emotional immaturity' ex-boyfriend Heeseung?"

"That's the one."

Before he could respond, Kai appeared on screen too, plopping down dramatically beside Taehyun and stealing half the frame. "Wait. What? Heeseung? Like, showed up where? Your house? Your dreams? Or did he slither up through a sewer grate like the snake he is?"

You snorted, your fingers brushing your forehead. "At the boys' house. He came to their door asking for me. I don't even know how he found out I moved here."

Kai gave the camera an exaggerated squint. "Wait, wait. What boys? The hot ones you told us about?"

"Yes, those boys," you said, already regretting how many details you'd given them in past updates.

Taehyun leaned forward like he was watching a drama unfold in real-time. "Okay, okay, but what happened? You can't just drop a bomb and walk away. What did he say? What did you say?"

You hesitated, then let out a breath. "He wanted to talk. Said he missed me. Said he wanted to try again." You winced at the sound of it aloud. "I couldn't even get a word out before Jay stepped in."

Kai gasped with his whole chest. "Jay stepped in?"

You nodded, and your lips twitched at the memory. "Jay stepped in. He opened the door, didn't know who Heeseung was, but as soon as he realized he was asking for me, it was game over."

Taehyun narrowed his eyes. "Details. Don't skip. I want exactly what he said, including tone and any sassy eyebrow raises."

You burst into a laugh but relented. "He said, and I quote: 'I'm her boyfriend. Can't I just hang out with my girl and my bros simultaneously without some sleazy ex disturbing us?'"

Both boys screamed at the same time.

"OH MY GOD."

"HE DID NOT."

"That's so hot. I'm actually mad at you for living this rom-com instead of me," Kai was practically bouncing. "So wait. Heeseung just... believed him? And left?"

You nodded slowly. "Well, there was a lot of glaring, and Heeseung tried to argue. Like, 'Who even are you?' and Jay didn't back down. Jake and Sunghoon came out too. It was kind of intimidating."

"And you?" Kai asked, eyes softening a little. "What did you do?"

You shrugged, voice quieter. "Nothing. I just stood there. I couldn't speak. It all happened so fast. Jay... handled it."

There was a beat of silence. Then Taehyun's voice dropped, gentle. "How did it feel? Seeing Heeseung again?"

You bit your lip, unsure of the answer. "Like my past showed up uninvited. And suddenly, all the work I did to move on didn't feel real anymore."

Kai's teasing melted away as he leaned closer to the camera. "But you didn't let him back in. That's real. That's strength. Don't downplay that."

You swallowed, trying not to get choked up. "I just... I didn't expect Jay to do what he did. It was so fast. Like, suddenly, he was this—protective thing standing in front of me, and I didn't even ask for it."

"And you liked it," Taehyun said gently, not asking—knowing.

You looked away, then back. "Yeah. I did."

There was a silence. Then—

Kai smirked again. "So what you're telling us is... your hot neighbor fake-boyfriended your ex into running off into the night, and now you're feeling things."

Taehyun gasped. "Wait, you are! You're catching feelings! I knew it. You're soft for Blond Hero Boy."

You groaned, pulling a pillow over your face. "I am not! I'm just confused. Okay? He was being nice. People can just be nice sometimes!"

Taehyun snorted. "Jay doesn't seem like the 'just being nice' kind of guy. He seems like the 'I'm gonna mean what I say and say what I mean' kind."

Kai nodded sagely. "That's boyfriend behavior, Your Honor."

You sighed again, pushing the pillow aside. "Okay, so maybe there's something. But I'm not doing this again. I don't want to jump into anything. Not now."

"Then don't," Taehyun said simply. "But don't run from it either. If he's good to you—and I mean really good—then maybe let yourself feel it. Even a little."

Kai added, his voice softer than usual, "No pressure, Y/N. Just take your time. But we've seen you after Heeseung. You were a shell. And now... even when you're tired and shaken, you're glowing a little again."

That hit somewhere deep. You looked at your screen, at your two best friends staring back with nothing but love and belief in their eyes, and something loosened in your chest.

"Thanks, guys," you whispered. "I don't know what I'm doing, but... I'm glad I have you."

Taehyun grinned. "Always. You don't have to figure it all out tonight. Just don't shut us—or them—out."

"And tell Jay he's officially on our radar," Kai added. "He's earned one gold star. We'll be watching."

You laughed through the lump in your throat. "You're the worst."

"We're the best," they said in unison.

You sat there for a moment, hugging your knees to your chest, the emotions swirling but no longer drowning you. Maybe you were still lost. But you weren't alone.

And that counted for something.

As the call wound down, you were just about to press "end" when Taehyun's voice stopped you.

"Wait," he said suddenly, his tone a little different this time—softer, sharper. "Before you go."

You blinked. "...Yeah?"

He leaned in, elbows on what looked like the arm of his couch. His expression had changed—less playful now. More knowing. The kind of look you hated because it meant he was about to say something that would hit you right in the gut.

"You keep talking about Jay," Taehyun said slowly. "But you've also been talking about Jake. And Sunghoon. Like... a lot."

Kai sat up straighter beside him, his brows furrowed in the same curious way.

Taehyun tilted his head. "And it's the way you say their names. Like you don't even realize it. You're not just grateful they're nice, Y/N."

You hesitated. Your breath caught in your throat. You tried to scoff, to deflect like you always did—but nothing came out.

Kai blinked. "Wait—hold on. Oh my god." He leaned toward the screen. "You've got feelings. For all three of them?"

"Wh—No!" you said quickly, too quickly. "I mean—" You buried your face in your hands for a second, groaning. "Maybe. I don't know. I didn't mean to get attached. It just… happened."

There was a moment of silence on the other end of the call. Not awkward. Just real. Like they were letting your confession settle.

Taehyun's voice was quiet when he finally spoke again. "You got attached because they treat you like you matter. That's not a crime, Y/N."

You stared at him, blinking against the sting in your eyes.

Kai, ever the mood-breaker, piped up. "Unless you pick the wrong one. Then it's a whole Netflix documentary. 'Small Town Girl, Big Emotions, and the Love Pentagon- wait no- Square Nobody Asked For.'"

You burst into a laugh-sob, tossing a pillow at your phone screen. "Kai, please."

"No, no, seriously!" he grinned. "The true crime vibes. The scandal. The heartbreak. I'm already imagining the moody cover art."

"Let her breathe," Taehyun said, though he was smiling too. Then he looked at you again, his tone gentler. "It's okay to be confused, Y/N. You just got out of something heavy. You moved. Your whole life shifted. Of course, things are messy."

"And they're really good to you," Kai added softly. "That's gotta be confusing too. When you're used to... less."

Your throat tightened. You looked down at your hands. "I just... I don't want to hurt anyone. Or ruin something good before it even starts."

"You won't," Taehyun said. "Not if you're honest. And not if you keep listening to what you want instead of what you're scared of."

You exhaled slowly, like something you'd been holding in for days had finally cracked open.

"Thanks," you said after a beat. "For not laughing. Or making me feel worse."

"Are you kidding?" Kai said. "This is prime drama. I'm invested now. You better give us updates, or I'll report you for emotional withholding."

You couldn't help but smile. "Okay, okay. I will. Just… let me figure things out first."

Taehyun gave you a slight nod. "Take your time. But remember—you're allowed to want good things. Even if they scare you."

You groaned into your hands as they burst out laughing.

"Can I just live in denial for like... two more days?" you muttered.

"Absolutely not," Taehyun grinned. "But you can take your time. Just don't run from it."

Your chest tightened, but you managed a small smile. "Okay. Thanks. For real this time."

Taehyun winked. "Anytime, dummy."

You didn't see the boys that morning after you returned from your house—just a quick wave across the street, through the window when you noticed Jake cleaning their living room. The space was nice. You'd needed a moment to breathe, to let your conversation with Taehyun and Kai sink in without your thoughts getting swallowed by someone else's presence.

But by mid-afternoon, you found yourself hovering at your front door with no real excuse, sipping on an iced coffee that had already melted too much to taste good. The ache in your chest hadn't left, but it had shifted—less grief, more confusion. More… longing.

Your phone buzzed.

Jay: You alive over there? Jake says if you’re ghosting us he's throwing your feel better cupcakes in the trash.

You smiled a little, thumbs already moving.

You: Was planning to. But now I'll come over just to save the cupcakes.

A few seconds later, another text popped up.

Jay: Backyard. It's nice out. Jake's trying to work the grill, says he has to keep the Aussie in him by having shrimps on a barbie.

You chuckle, setting your phone down, and slipped on your sandals before heading next door.

You found Sunghoon first, sitting under the patio umbrella with headphones half-on, scrolling on his phone. He looked up as you approached, and for a second, his usual aloofness cracked into something soft.

"You came back," he said, setting his phone aside.

You shrugged, settling in the chair beside him. "Cupcakes were on the line. I couldn't let that kind of injustice happen."

He smiled faintly, eyes lingering on you a second longer than they needed to.

"They're actually kind of awful," he said. "Don't tell Jake."

You leaned in conspiratorially. "I'm telling him the second I see him."

There was a pause, comfortable but weighted in a way that made your heart flutter just slightly.

"You okay?" Sunghoon asked, voice lower now.

You nodded. "Getting there."

His eyes searched yours for a moment before he gave the slightest nod. "You don't have to pretend with us. You know that, right?"

You didn't respond, just gave him a tiny smile. But your chest squeezed a little tighter when he looked away—like he was trying not to say more.

When you went to the backyard, you could smell a faint… burnt smell.

Jake was by the grill, battling it like it owed him money. His tongue poked out slightly as he focused, a crease between his brows.

"Planning to burn the house down?" you called out.

Jake was startled, clutching his chest dramatically. "You can't just sneak up on a man like that, Y/N! I almost died."

You laughed and leaned on the counter beside him. He grinned, cheeks slightly pink.

"Seriously though, glad you're back," Jake said, more sincere now. "We missed you."

You smiled. "You saw me this morning."

"Yeah, but it's not the same. You didn't wake us up and say bye, plus it's boring without you." His words were light, teasing—but his eyes were sincere.

You tilted your head, touched by how easily Jake could make everything feel lighter. "Thanks, Jake. Really."

He offered you a crooked smile, bumping your shoulder playfully. "Anytime. I'm basically your emotional support golden retriever now."

You laughed, the sound easing some of the lingering tightness in your chest.

“Y/N!” You hear Jay call you as he lounges on his chair, sunglasses on.

Jake returns to batting the grill, "Go hang with Jay for a bit, don't leave your fake boyfriend hanging."

You leave him to battle it out with the grill and walk up to Jay. When he noticed you, he removed his sunglasses and patted the free chair beside him.

"Back from your dramatic self-imposed exile," he teased, his voice warm.

"I'm not that dramatic," you said, settling beside him.

Jay tilted his head thoughtfully. "You ghosted us for five hours and almost rejected my cooking. Kinda dramatic."

You narrowed your eyes playfully. "You practically forced me to eat."

He shrugged like it wasn't a big deal. "I figured you might not eat otherwise. It wasn't great, but the thought counts," Jay leaned back on his palms, watching you carefully. "Last night… I didn't mean to overstep. With the whole boyfriend thing."

You shook your head quickly. "No. You didn't. Actually… it helped."

Jay's gaze sharpened, almost unreadable. "Good. 'Cause I wasn't bluffing."

You blinked, heart catching.

"Protecting you?" he added easily, though his voice had a rougher edge to it now. "I meant that."

The space between you crackled, something fragile and electric.

You licked your lips, your voice smaller than you meant for it to be. "Thanks. For being there."

Jay looked away like it was too much to say more right now. "Always, Y/N."

The air hung heavier after that. Jake called from the grill, and Sunghoon pulled out a speaker to play music. The atmosphere returned to easy banter, but you could still feel the shift, as if an invisible string had tied itself between you and each of them.

You hadn't meant for this to happen.

You hadn't meant to start caring about all of them.

But you had.

And you didn't know what to do about it.

The night had wound down slowly after the backyard hangout, laughter trailing like a warm aftertaste. Jay had gone inside first, muttering about finishing laundry. Sunghoon had followed not long after, faking a dramatic yawn and saying something about beauty sleep.

Jake stayed.

You hadn't planned on walking home with him. You hadn't really planned on anything. But when he nudged your shoulder and said, "Let me walk you to your door," it felt too natural to say no.

The air was cooler now and quiet in the neighborhood. Your sandals clicked softly on the pavement, and the stars were clear—many more than you were used to seeing.

Jake glanced at you a few times, each followed by a quick glance forward again, like he was trying not to stare.

When you reached the little gate to your yard, you stopped. So did he. You turned to him. "Thanks for—"

"You make me feel like I'm in a constant rom-com," he interrupted, voice light but shaky around the edges. "The bad kind. The pining one."

You blinked. "Jake—"

"I mean it," he added, eyes locked on yours now. "You say something, laugh, or even just show up, and it messes with my whole day. In a good way. But also in a really confusing way because I don't know if I'm allowed to want this."

He exhaled, hands half-tucked into his hoodie. "But I do."

It was soft. Honest.

You stepped forward, heart thudding. "You're not the only one confused." Jake's hand brushed against yours like he wasn't sure if he should touch you. You took it.

The kiss was sudden but not rushed. It was warm and searching, the kind that felt like a question and a relief simultaneously. Jake kissed like someone who'd thought about it a lot. Like someone who wasn't sure he'd ever get to.

It deepened quickly—hesitant hands turning bolder, breaths coming quicker, your back bumping lightly against your front door as he murmured your name like a prayer.

Somewhere between lips and soft gasps, you led him inside.

You didn't talk much as you moved through your house. The silence was heavier than awkward—anticipation, nerves, and want all tangled together. His fingers trembled slightly when they brushed your arm. In your room, he paused.

Jake cupped your face, leaning in until his forehead rested against yours. "Tell me if I need to slow down," he whispered. "Or stop. I don't want this to be a mistake."

You looked up at him—Jake, who wore his heart so easily, who made you laugh when you didn't want to, who had just confessed in the softest way.

You kissed him shyly, lips pressed against his as he settled onto your bed, leaning back against the headboard. His hands found your hips and moved you to sit on top of him, soft lips hungry for more of your touch, and his mind went blank. Soon, soft kisses grew more eager as your touch consumed his thoughts. Your hands framed his face, and his wandering hands snuck under your sweater and felt along your spine before swiftly removing it.

Time seemed to blur as you continued kissing passionately, hands exploring but staying within comfortable boundaries. He didn't rush you, even as your effect on him was evident. Instead, he maintained a shared rhythm, making you feel cherished.

Eventually, the intensity of your kisses led you to pull back, your lips tender. His breathing was heavy, and his hair was disheveled. Your hands then moved down his front, taking off his jacket. Though you felt you were undressing him quickly, it wasn't fast enough for him. He turned you onto your back and swiftly pulled off his shirt. You then removed your bottoms, watching as he revealed his entire body.

You leaned back, supporting yourself with your hands, to meet his kiss. As your mouths met and tongues intertwined, his hands moved down your back, deftly unclipping your bra. A soft gasp escaped you, immediately captured by his kiss as he slid the straps off your shoulders, letting your bra fall away. You slowly sank back into the pillows as he trailed kisses down your neck, gently guiding you to lie entirely on your back.

He continued with wet kisses from your neck to your chest, his hands lightly tracing your ribs as you arched towards him, your breath coming in short gasps. A sigh escaped you at his tender touch, and he then cupped your breast, softly squeezing it before his lips found your hardening nipple.

"Is this good?" Jake murmured a hint of shyness in his voice, his tongue briefly touching your nipple as his thumb gently brushed over it, feeling it firm. You were almost speechless as he repeated the gesture a couple of times. You could barely form words to respond when he repeated the actions a few times. 

You let out a soft whine, shifting restlessly for more of his touch. He glanced up at you, his hair falling across his eyes, and playfully flicked his tongue against your nipple while his other hand caressed your other breast. Jake then continued his kisses down your stomach. With a slight, frustrated sound, he sat back, his gaze sweeping over your nearly bare body. He then lifted your legs onto his shoulders, sliding the last piece of clothing off you and tossing it onto the floor with the rest.

"Have you been hiding this gorgeous body from me?" Jake murmured, finally pulling down his pants and quickly taking off his briefs at the same time. He barely gave you a moment to take in his body, your eyes briefly drawn to his erection before he leaned in for another kiss. "If I had known your body was as beautiful as your face, I wouldn't have hesitated to tell you how I felt about you."

Clearly captivated by your chest, he returned to your breasts, hungrily latching onto a nipple, abandoning any further words as he immersed himself in your warmth. After you softly whined, he pulled back slightly and lifted your right leg, bending it towards your stomach, which further exposed your aroused state to his eager gaze. The glistening wetness of your folds caught his attention, making him run his tongue along his lower lip.

Jake's attention was entirely on your pussy, his finger tracing the center where your arousal had pooled. The slick fluid coated his finger and your clit. A moan escaped you at the touch, your jaw relaxing as he gripped your hips with his other hand, pressing you firmly against the bed. Ensuring you stayed put, he lowered himself, his face settling between your legs as he sought a taste.

His lips were gentle against you, his eyes fixed on your swollen folds as his tongue traced the pool of your arousal. He practically sucked for a taste, leaving soft, open-mouthed kisses on your center. You gripped the sheets tightly, your legs instinctively wanting to close, but his mouth followed your every movement.

Jake's breath hitched, though it seemed unimportant as he nipped and sucked at you, your clit rubbing against the tip of his nose. His focus was singular: your pleasure. He wanted to make you feel incredible, to erase thoughts of anyone else and fill your mind solely with him. Suddenly, his mouth closed over your stiffened clit, and he began to lick and suck, the wetness of your opening slicking his chin as he devoted himself to you.

You tasted incredibly sweet to him, driving him to the edge of his control as his erect cock moved restlessly against the bed. Your head was thrown back, lost in the sensations between your legs, your eyes glazed over as you moaned at the ceiling. Jake watched you surrender to his touch, his hand sliding along your body, feeling the deep breaths that hollowed your stomach as he cupped your breasts. His fingers were slick with your arousal, and he used them to coat your nipples, rubbing them as his mouth continued to pleasure you intimately.

You were consumed by the ecstasy of his mouth on you. You couldn't recall the last time someone had touched you like this, bringing you such pleasure. It certainly hadn't been with your ex, whom you'd stopped being intimate with long before the breakup, and even then, he never made you feel this way.

"Oh—" you moaned softly, your hands in his dark hair, gently holding him close. He remained silent, simply guiding you towards orgasm, feeling the tremors in your legs and the catch in your breath. Your clit pulsed in his mouth, and he soothed the intense sensation with tender lips and gentle lapping of his tongue as you descended from the peak of your pleasure.

"Condom?" you asked, playfully nipping his lower lip. He nodded, and you reached blindly for one in your nightstand drawer.

"Looks like you were prepared," he said, raising an eyebrow.

"You never know what could happen when you have hot men as your neighbors."

He watched as you slid the condom onto his fully erect member, which bounced slightly. He placed a hand at the base as you moved to straddle him. The expression on your face as you lowered yourself onto him was beautiful, and you exuded a confident eagerness that he hadn't seen before.

He resisted the urge to move, wanting this to be pleasurable for you as well and let you adjust. "Jake," you murmured, your hands flat on his chest, which accentuated your breasts. He carefully shifted his hips, pressing just a little deeper.

"That's it, baby," he breathed, watching your hair fall forward as you focused on his thrusts. You ground your hips against him, and he watched your body tremble with pleasure. The way you moved captivated him, and he couldn't help but lean up to kiss one of your breasts as you rode him for the first time.

He then groped your ass, spreading your cheeks and thrusting deeply as you threw your head back with a whimper. "Feels good," you sighed. You wrapped your arms around him, pressing him tightly against your chest as he bounced you, moaning against your nipples and leaving trails of saliva. His nails dug into your skin as he lifted your hips up and down on his cock.

He felt restricted, unable to move his hips as much as he desired. With a low grunt, he rolled you onto your back, your knees digging into the mattress as your legs wrapped around his waist. "Fuck, I can't," he muttered, perhaps meaning he couldn't hold back much longer.

You barely registered his words as Jake began to thrust deeply inside you, grinding his pelvis against yours with each powerful movement. A familiar wave of sensation tightened around his member as your body gripped him. He knew he wouldn't last much longer either.

"Gonna cum for me, baby?" he asked softly, kissing your jaw and holding your waist as he thrust deeply, feeling your nails dig into his back.

"Please," you begged, snuggling into his neck, and his chest tightened with desire. He put more force into his thrusts, bringing you and himself to the brink of climax. Your pleas were too enticing to ignore.

A wave of intense pleasure washed over you, your skin prickling with goosebumps as a shiver ran through you. He held you tightly as you moaned in euphoria, reaching another climax. Jake couldn't hold back any longer, and your legs wrapped around him gave him no choice but to drive the rest of his length into you until he came into the condom.

You lay together for a moment, his fingers gently combed through your hair, and you straightened your sore legs as he pulled out.

You remembered little else besides the growing drowsiness as he cleaned you up thoroughly. He then laid back in bed, pulling the covers over your naked body, and fell asleep with you in his arms.

The sunlight was creeping in through the edges of the curtains, soft and golden, warming the skin on your back. But inside, you were anything but warm.

Jake's arm was still resting loosely over your waist, but his breathing had shifted—less even, more aware. Still, you stayed still, pretending not to notice. Pretending the tangle of thoughts in your head wasn't growing louder with every passing second.

Last night shouldn't have happened. Or maybe it should have. Perhaps that was the problem—you didn't know anymore.

You bit down on your lip, trying not to overthink it, but of course, you were. How could you not? Because, yes, Jake had looked at you like you were the only person in the world. He'd kissed you like he meant it, held you like he wanted to stay. He was sweet, nervous, and kind in a way that made your heart ache.

But that ache wasn't just for him.

It throbbed a little when Jay hovered near you in the quiet when his voice dipped low and protective. It flickered when Sunghoon offered you tea without asking and sat beside you in a silence that felt like understanding.

You weren't supposed to fall. You definitely weren't supposed to fall in three directions at once.

You sighed and slowly pulled the blanket back, slipping out of bed as gently as you could manage. Jake shifted behind you, a soft rustle of sheets and a sleepy exhale.

You padded to the doorway of the bedroom, pausing there as your fingers brushed the frame.

"You're thinking way too hard for this early in the morning," Jake said, voice low and hoarse with sleep.

You turned, startled to see him already sitting up. His hair was a mess, his eyes half-lidded and squinting against the light, but his smile was genuine. Sleepy. Soft.

He rubbed a hand over his face, then met your eyes.

"Pancakes or silence?"

You blinked at him, then let out a breath of a laugh. "I should be the one asking if you want breakfast."

Jake shrugged, swinging his legs over the bed and standing up. "Just figured one of us should say it."

He walked toward you, and for a second, you thought he might kiss you. Instead, he just brushed a hand against your waist as he passed, making his way to the kitchen like it was nothing. Like this could be normal.

And maybe it could be. But that was the part that scared you.

You stood there a moment longer, your heart knotted and heavy in your chest. Last night had been real. Jake had been real.

But so were the butterflies when Jay looked at you like you were a mystery he wanted to solve. And so was the warmth in your chest when Sunghoon noticed the things you never said.

You weren't just in trouble—you were in it.

And you had no idea what to do next.

You were back on their couch again. Same spot. Different atmosphere.

Sunghoon was flipping through a game catalog on the TV, Jay was curled up in the corner scrolling on his phone, and Jake was… somewhere to your right. Close, but not close enough to pretend nothing had changed.

Because something had changed.

You hadn't talked about it. Neither of you had brought it up since this morning. Not the kiss. Not the night. Not the way you'd fallen asleep tangled in each other's arms like something out of a dream.

You were hyper-aware of his presence now—the way his shoulder occasionally brushed yours when he shifted, how his fingers twitched a bit like he wanted to say something and couldn't.

You wanted to say something too. But what? That you didn't regret it? That you did?

You hugged your knees tighter against your chest.

Sunghoon looked over from the floor and blinked. "Did one of you guys fight or something?"

Jay glanced up from his phone. "No. Why?"

Sunghoon made a little gesture between you and Jake. "You're acting weird."

Jake coughed. "What? I'm not weird. You're weird."

"Excellent comeback," Jay muttered under his breath.

"I'm just tired," you added quickly, forcing a smile that didn't quite reach your eyes. "Didn't sleep much."

Sunghoon raised a brow, clearly not buying it, but didn't push. "Right."

Jay, meanwhile, didn't say anything—but you could feel his gaze flicker toward you for a second too long. Observing. Thinking. Like he was putting a piece of something together.

Jake shifted beside you, tapping his fingers against his thigh. You knew he wanted to reach for you. Say something. Break the awkward tension before it cracked open the floor.

But he didn't.

And neither did you.

The controller passed hands. The banter continued. But the tension between you and Jake hung thick in the air—a quiet, unspoken question waiting for someone to be brave enough to answer it.

You thought you'd successfully slipped away.

The others had gotten caught up in some co-op game, and you'd taken the opportunity to retreat to the kitchen for water and, if you were being honest, space.

Your fingers curled around the glass a little tighter than necessary.

You didn't regret what happened with Jake. Not really. But now that the weight of it had settled and the quiet had crept in, the real thoughts were crawling up the back of your spine like vines—tangling everything you'd carefully compartmentalized.

Footsteps padded in behind you, and you didn't have to turn around to know who it was.

Jay leaned casually against the fridge, arms crossed, blonde hair slightly messy from lying down.

"So," he said, his voice low and mild. "You and Jake, huh?"

You froze mid-sip. "What?"

"Come on." He tilted his head, amused. "I may be dense sometimes, but I'm not blind. Or deaf. You both looked like you'd seen a ghost earlier. That, or you stuck your tongues down each other's throats and forgot to talk about it."

You winced. "That's… weirdly specific."

He smirked. "Because it's accurate?"

You didn't answer. You couldn't.

Jay's expression softened just a little. "Look, I'm not trying to pry. I just… noticed. Jake's been looking at you like you hung the stars lately. And now you won't even make eye contact."

You finally met his gaze, lips parted like you might try to defend yourself. But then you stopped. Because what was the point?

"We didn't fight," you said eventually. "It's just… complicated."

Jay nodded slowly, as if he understood more than he was letting on. "He's a good guy. He won't push you. But he's also not gonna pretend it didn't happen."

You blinked. "Are you—are you okay with it?"

He shrugged, glancing away for a moment. "Do I get a say?"

You stared at him, trying to read between the lines. His voice was calm, but there was a flicker of something rawer under the surface.

"I don't know," you said quietly. "Maybe."

Jay exhaled, then gave you a crooked smile. "Well. For what it's worth, you could've done worse."

That made you laugh—a soft, startled sound that briefly broke the tension.

"I just…" you started, but the words tangled. You looked down. "I didn't mean to get attached."

Jay didn't say anything.

"It just… happened."

When you finally glanced back up, Jay was watching you—really watching—with a kind of quiet understanding that made your chest ache.

"I know," he said, following it with a whisper, "just wished it happened to me instead."

And somehow, that was worse than if he'd said nothing at all.

"Yo, are you guys gonna make out in the kitchen or come pick your Mario Kart characters?"

Sunghoon's voice floated in from the living room, teasing and light. He was completely unaware of the emotional bomb that had just gone off between you and Jay, or he did but refused to acknowledge it.

You blinked, startled by the call, then glanced at Jay. He didn't say anything—just pushed off the fridge and gestured toward the door with a subtle tilt of his head.

"Let's go," he said.

You followed, heart suddenly heavy.

The game resumed. Laughter picked up again. Jake nudged your shoulder once when you sat beside him but didn't push when you didn't respond with your usual sass.

You smiled weakly. Tried to play like nothing had changed. But the echo of Jay's voice wouldn't leave your head.

The shift was subtle at first. A lingering glance here. A missed joke there. The group dynamics still flowed, but you could feel it—like something had been shaken and hadn't settled back into place.

Jake didn't press. He still smiled at you, still offered you the last slice of pizza, still handed you the extra controller. But the softness in his eyes was quieter now. Like he was waiting to see what came next.

Jay avoided being alone with you.

Sunghoon seemed to be the only one who hadn't picked up on the tension—or if he had, he had expertly ignored it, choosing to be the glue that kept everything together—the buffer.

You were grateful for him.

But your head was a mess.

And no matter how often you told yourself to figure it out, to pick a lane, your heart kept tugging in three different directions.

It was late. You couldn't sleep. The quiet of your own house felt stifling, and your thoughts were too loud.

So you stepped outside.

The breeze was cool, the streetlights casting soft shadows against the pavement. You wrapped your arms around yourself, intending to sit for a few minutes on your porch step.

But someone was already there.

Jay. He was sitting cross-legged on your porch, hoodie pulled over his head, eyes distant and fixed on the sky.

You stopped mid-step.

He looked over as if he'd known you were coming. "You always sneak out like this?"

A beat passed before you answered. "Only when I'm being chased by my own thoughts."

Your voice came out a little sharper than intended. You walked toward him, stopped in front, but didn't sit yet.

"Finally stopped avoiding me?" you asked, your tone light—too light and a little bitter.

Jay's jaw twitched.

You sighed, dropping your gaze. "Sorry. That was… I didn't mean it like that."

"No, it's fair," he said quietly. "I was avoiding you."

You sat beside him, silence wrapping around the both of you like a blanket stretched too thin.

Then, softly, you broke it. "I like all three of you."

His head turned toward you.

"I didn't mean for it to happen," you added quickly. "I didn't come here expecting to feel anything for anyone. But now I'm just—stuck. Because I care about you. And Jake. And even Sunghoon. I'm not trying to mess with anyone, I swear, I just…"

You exhaled hard.

"I'm overwhelmed," you whispered.

Jay didn't respond right away. Just stared ahead, hands curled into loose fists on his lap.

Finally, he said, "You know what the worst part is?"

You looked at him.

"I still want you," he murmured. "Even if you're not just mine."

The words punched through your ribs, and suddenly, you couldn't stay still.

You reached for him.

And he met you halfway.

The kiss was slow initially, tasting of hesitation and too many unsaid things. But it deepened quickly—days of tension and confusion, unraveling into something heavier. His hand gripped your waist like he couldn't let go.

"Come with me," he said against your lips.

Up the stairs to his room, where he closed the door behind you. Where the only light came from the hallway, casting long shadows across the floor.

He stepped close again. His eyes were darker now, not just with desire, but something more.

"You need to be quiet," he whispered, voice low against your ear. "Unless you want them to know that you're mine for tonight."

The thrill of the night shot through you. You nodded in silent agreement, tightening the coil of anticipation in your stomach. His hand, still warm from your waist, trailed up your arm, sending shivers across your skin despite the cool night air. He cupped your cheek, his thumb stroking the soft curve, and you leaned into his touch, wanting more.

His other hand found the hem of your shirt, and you lifted your arms without a word, allowing him to slide it over your head. The dim light painted your bare skin, and you watched his eyes darken further as they roamed over you. A possessive glint sparked in their depths, a silent claim that sent a shiver of excitement mixed with nervousness down your spine.

He reached for the clasp of your bra, his fingers surprisingly deft, and the delicate lace fell away, freeing your breasts. You held your breath, the air suddenly thick with unspoken desires. His gaze lingered, heavy and intent, before he finally lowered his head, his lips brushing against your collarbone.

"Mine," he murmured against your skin, the word a low rumble that vibrated through you. He trailed kisses along your neck, each touch sending a jolt of heat through your veins. You tilted your head back, offering him more, your fingers tangling in the soft strands of his hair. His hands moved lower, tracing the curve of your hips, pulling you closer until you were flush against him. You could feel the hard bulge pressing against your pajama bottoms, a blatant reminder of his desire. A soft gasp escaped your lips.

He pulled back slightly, his eyes locking with yours. "Are you sure about this?" he whispered, his voice rough with wanting.

You didn't need words. Your hands found the edge of his hoodie, pulling it over his head. His bare chest was revealed, the faint moonlight highlighting the lean muscles. You ran your palms over his warm skin, feeling the rapid beat of his heart beneath your fingertips.

He groaned softly, his hands tightening on your hips. He leaned down, his lips finding yours again, the kiss now urgent and demanding. His tongue plunged into your mouth, tasting of longing and a desperate need to possess.

With a shared urgency, you both began to shed the remaining layers of clothing. His pants were quickly discarded, revealing the thick length straining against his briefs. You fumbled with the drawstring of your pajama bottoms, and they slid down your legs, pooling at your ankles.

He stepped back, his eyes devouring your naked form in the dim light. You felt a flush creep up your neck, a mixture of shyness and arousal. But the possessive look in his eyes fueled a boldness within you. You met his gaze, letting him see the desire that mirrored his own.

He reached for you again, his hands sliding around your waist, lifting you until your legs wrapped around his hips. The sudden friction against his hard length through his briefs made you gasp. He carried you a few steps, until the back of your legs bumped against the edge of his bed.

He didn't break eye contact as he lowered you, your bare skin sliding against his clothed lower half. The contact was electric, a spark that ignited a fire in your core. He leaned down, his lips nuzzling your neck again.

"Tonight," he whispered, his breath hot against your skin, "you're all mine."

And as he finally shed his briefs, revealing the full, throbbing length of his desire, you knew he meant it. 

His hands tightened on your thighs, guiding you closer until the slick head of his cock pressed against your wet folds. A gasp hitched in your throat, the intimacy of the contact stealing your breath in the dimly lit room. He paused, his dark eyes searching yours, a silent question swirling between you. You answered with a slow, deliberate nod, your hips instinctively arching, a silent plea urging him closer.

"God, you feel so good already," he breathed, his voice a low, husky tremor against your ear, laced with a raw desire that mirrored your own.

With a low groan that resonated deep in his chest, he finally pressed forward. You squeezed your eyes shut, a sharp intake of breath escaping your lips as his thick length stretched you, filling you completely. A wave of sensation, a potent mix of pleasure and a fleeting moment of intensity, washed over you. He remained still for a heart-stopping moment, allowing your body to adjust to his size, the only sound the soft rustle of the sheets beneath your entangled limbs.

"So tight," he murmured, a possessive edge to his tone, a hint of a satisfied smirk playing on his lips as if claiming a long-desired prize.

Then, he began to move, slow, deliberate thrusts that rocked your hips against his. Each measured slide sent a ripple of heat expanding from your core, an ache that intensified with every inch he pushed deeper inside you. You wrapped your legs tighter around his waist, your fingernails digging into the firm muscles of his shoulders, clinging to him as if he were your only anchor.

"Jay," you whispered, your voice a breathy plea, raw with the burgeoning sensations he was igniting within you.

His kisses grew more urgent, his mouth claiming yours in a hungry exploration, devouring your soft lips as his pace quickened. The rhythm he established was primal, demanding, a relentless tide pulling you under, and you met him thrust for thrust, your bodies moving together in an ancient, desperate dance of yearning. The air grew thick with your mingled breaths, soft moans escaping your lips like whispered secrets.

He trailed hot, wet kisses down the sensitive curve of your neck, his teeth gently nipping at your skin, sending shivers of pure delight cascading down your spine. His hands roamed freely, possessively cupping your breasts, his thumbs teasing your aching nipples until they were hard, throbbing peaks begging for more of his touch.

"Does that feel good, baby?" he asked, his voice thick with lust, the question more of a statement as he felt your involuntary response.

"Mmm-hmm," you moaned, your head lolling back, arching your back in a silent offering, your hips bucking against his with an increasing, desperate urgency. The friction was exquisite, building a searing pressure deep within you, a coiled spring threatening to shatter your carefully constructed control. A soft cry escaped your lips as the first undeniable wave of pleasure washed over you, your inner muscles clenching around him in a tight embrace.

He felt your release, the intense, shuddering grip around his cock, and his own carefully leashed control began to fray. His thrusts deepened, became faster, driven by a primal need to reach the precipice with you. He groaned against your neck, his body trembling with the force of his impending climax.

"You're driving me fucking crazy," he muttered, his breath hot and ragged against your skin, the words a testament to the intensity of your connection.

With a final, guttural cry that tore from his throat, he plunged deep, burying himself fully within you, holding you so tightly it almost hurt, as his body convulsed with the force of his release. The hot, thick spurts flooded you, a final, intimate claiming that sealed your connection for the night, a silent promise echoing in the darkness. You clung to him, your own body still quivering from the lingering aftershocks of your orgasm, feeling utterly spent, completely sated, and undeniably his at that moment.

He collapsed against you, his breathing ragged and uneven, his heart pounding a wild rhythm against your chest. The silence that followed was heavy with the weight of your shared intimacy, broken only by the soft, contented sighs that escaped your lips. He nuzzled his face into the soft strands of your hair, his arms wrapped around you in a fiercely possessive embrace.

The room was still. Only the faint hum of the streetlights outside and the slow rhythm of Jay's breathing filled the silence now.

You lay tangled in his sheets, your head against his shoulder, the warmth of his skin grounding you even as your mind began to spiral. Everything had been so fast and intense— now it was just quiet.

And in the quiet, the guilt started to set in.

Jay's fingers traced slow, absentminded lines along your spine. But even that gentle comfort couldn't stop the ache from blooming in your chest.

"I should go," you whispered.

His hand stilled. You didn't lift your head, but you felt the shift in his body. "Are you okay?" he asked, voice husky with sleep and something softer.

"Yeah," you said quickly, then shook your head. "No. I mean—I don't know. I just… I can't stay here. I can't face them in the morning. Not like this."

Jay didn't say anything for a moment. Then he exhaled. "Okay."

You looked up at him. "You're not mad?"

He met your eyes, something unreadable flickering in his. "No. I get it. It's a lot. You don't owe me anything more than what you gave tonight."

The knot in your chest tightened. "But I do. I shouldn't have—"

"Don't do that," he cut in gently. "Don't regret it."

You pressed your lips together, your throat tight. "I'm sorry," you said quietly.

He brushed your hair back from your face, fingers careful. "Don't be. I knew what this was."

You weren't sure if that made you feel better or worse.

He sat up slowly, pulling on a hoodie and offering you your clothes with a soft glance. "You want me to walk you back?"

You shook your head. "I'll be okay."

You dressed in silence, both of you moving like you didn't want to disturb whatever fragile peace had been carved out of the night.

At the door, you turned back. Jay leaned against the frame, arms crossed. He didn't look hurt. Just tired.

"Thank you," you said, voice barely audible.

He nodded. "Anytime."

And then you slipped out, into the cool night, back to your house next door.

Alone again.

And full of too many feelings for three boys who had no idea how much space they were taking up in your heart.

You hadn't slept much.

Your own bed, despite being familiar, felt too cold and too quiet. Your body still remembered Jay's touch, the warmth of his skin, and the way his voice had dropped when he told you to be quiet.

You pulled the blanket over your face.

What the hell were you doing?

You'd crossed a line. One you couldn't uncross. Not with Jake. Not with Jay. And the worst part was, Sunghoon's name still lingered somewhere in the back of your mind too.

You stayed in bed for as long as possible, pretending time would fold in on itself and save you from facing any of it.

But eventually, your stomach growled, and the sound of faint laughter and pots clanging across the street reminded you that life didn't stop just because you were emotionally fried.

When you finally made your way back over to the boys' house—barely knocking before letting yourself in like usual—you were met with the smell of eggs and toast, and the sight of Jake and Sunghoon crowded around the stove.

Jake looked up first. "Hey," he greeted, and his smile faltered for just a second—almost imperceptibly—before he forced it back on.

"Morning," you said softly, offering a small wave. You didn't miss the way your eyes slid away from his a beat too fast.

Sunghoon handed you a plate wordlessly, but his gaze lingered a little longer than usual, eyes quietly calculating. Like he was picking up on something you hadn't said yet.

"Where's Jay?" you asked, filling the silence and desperate to sound casual.

"Out back. He's fixing the stupid broken light again," Sunghoon answered, setting his own plate down on the table.

Jake nudged a chair out with his foot, gesturing for you to sit. You took it. The awkwardness swirled like steam from your food.

No one said anything, not for a while. Not until Jake cleared his throat and stood up, grabbing his glass of water even though it was still full.

"I'm gonna help Jay," he muttered.

Neither you nor Sunghoon stopped him.

Once the door shut behind him, you looked down at your untouched plate, then up again—only to find Sunghoon still watching you, fork halfway to his mouth.

"You good?" he asked.

You hesitated. "Yeah. Just tired."

He didn't look convinced, but he nodded anyway.

You both ate in silence for a bit longer, though the air wasn't quite as heavy. But you could feel something shifting. You just didn't know what it meant yet.

You finished about half your plate before pushing it away, appetite lost to the fog settling over your chest. Sunghoon was still eating, but slower now. Like he was waiting for something. Or maybe just giving you time to speak.

“You’re quiet,” he finally said, voice gentle.

“I’m always quiet,” you deflected, eyes darting to the window, where you could just barely see Jake and Jay moving around the back porch.

Sunghoon smiled faintly. “You’re a different kind of quiet today.” That made you pause.

You didn’t know what to say because he wasn’t wrong. You were being careful. Hesitant. Trying not to touch the edges of what happened last night or what it meant for the three boys sitting on the other side of it. But Sunghoon wasn’t pushing. He just kept looking at you like he saw through the layers you were trying to keep up.

“I saw you leave last night,” he said finally, setting down his fork. “You didn’t come back.”

Your throat tightened. “Yeah.”

His voice was still calm. “Was it Jay?”

You looked at him then. Really looked.

And for the first time in days, you saw it—the softness around his mouth that had hardened. The slight crease in his brow. He already knew.

“Yeah,” you whispered.

Sunghoon exhaled, not in anger, but in some resigned version of understanding. His fingers tapped once on the table. “You don’t owe me an explanation.”

“I know,” you said, your voice small. “But I still feel like I’m screwing everything up.”

He gave you a look filled with more empathy than you deserved. “You’re not screwing it up. It just… hurts a little. That’s all.” You didn’t know what to say to that. So you said nothing.

Jay and Jake returned shortly after, and the rest of the morning blurred into a hazy half-day of almost normal. You all sat together in the living room, watching a movie none of you paid attention to. Jake kept fidgeting with the throw pillow. Jay barely spoke. Sunghoon… he sat the farthest from you.

You hated it. All of it.

The tension in the room felt unbearable, the silence so thick you could practically taste it. Sunghoon and Jake hadn't spoken much, still lost in their thoughts. You couldn't quite bring yourself to face them—especially after last night, after everything that had happened. You were caught in this strange, suffocating space between them, not knowing how to move forward.

The quiet stretched on for what felt like hours, but it was only minutes. You kept stealing glances at them, noticing the awkward glances they'd throw your way when they thought you weren't looking. You could feel the weight of their confusion, the heaviness of the unspoken things between you.

You opened your mouth several times, but the words always felt hard to say.

Finally, unable to stay cooped up inside anymore, you spoke up.

"Hey, Sunghoon," you began, voice small, hesitant. He looked at you, clearly surprised that you were addressing him. "You mentioned the rooftop… a while back. Can I… can I go up there for some air?"

You could hear the reluctance in your own voice, but there was also a desperate need to escape the oppressive tension in the house. You didn't want to be in the same room as any of them right now. Not with everything swirling in your head. Not when your heart was so tangled up in all of them.

Sunghoon hesitated, catching the tone of your voice. He nodded after a beat. "Yeah, of course. I'll show you." He stood from the table, motioning toward the door.

You followed him silently, grateful for the excuse to leave the suffocating atmosphere behind. He led you up the stairs and through the door to the rooftop. The cool evening air hit you immediately, the breeze brushing over your skin as you stepped outside.

It was quiet up here. The city stretched out before you, peaceful and calm in the twilight. But you didn't feel calm. You felt the opposite—a storm swirling inside your chest, the weight of your confusion pressing down on you.

Sunghoon didn't push you to speak. He just stood beside you, leaning against the railing, gazing out over the skyline. But after a while, you couldn't hold it in anymore.

"I—" You stopped yourself, realizing how vulnerable you were. You didn't want to break down here in front of Sunghoon. It wasn't his fault. It wasn't anyone's fault.

"I don't think I can do this right now," you muttered, eyes fixed on the horizon. You didn't know what you were even talking about. Your words felt like they didn't belong in the same sentence. "I can't face them."

Sunghoon turned his head slightly toward you, his brow furrowing. "What do you mean? You can talk to them."

You shook your head, a lump forming in your throat. "I don't think I can. I don't even know what to say to them. Or to you." You let out a shaky breath, shoulders slumping under the weight of it all. "I think… I think I need to be alone. I can't deal with all of this."

You felt his presence linger momentarily, but he didn't press. He simply nodded. "Okay. I'll leave you to it, then. If you need anything, you know where to find me."

And then he left. The door behind you clicked softly, leaving you with your thoughts.

The moment you were truly alone, the walls came crashing down.

You sat there on the cold rooftop, your back against the railing, knees pulled up tightly to your chest. The city spread out before you, but you couldn't see any of it clearly through the fog of your emotions. The tears wouldn't stop.

Everything felt like it was spiraling out of control.

You hadn't meant for any of this to happen. You hadn't meant to let things get this messy. But here you were, caught in a web of emotions that felt too heavy to bear. You felt suffocated by your own thoughts, trapped by everything you couldn't control.

"I'm such a mess," you whispered hoarsely, your voice barely audible above the soft hum of the wind. You hated the way your words sounded. Pathetic. Weak.

But it was true. You were a mess. You'd let things get too tangled with the guys, let your feelings run wild without thinking of the consequences. And now, everything was breaking apart around you.

You squeezed your eyes shut, trying to block out the tears that kept coming, but it was no use. They were unstoppable.

You weren't just crying for the mess between you and the boys. You were crying for yourself. For the way you had let everything slip out of control. You were disgusted with yourself—disgusted that you couldn't make a decision, disgusted that you couldn't keep your emotions in check.

How had you let things get this far? How had you ended up here, drowning in a sea of guilt and regret?

You didn't deserve any of them.

You didn't deserve to be loved by any of them. Not when you couldn't even figure out what you wanted. Not when you had let your emotions run wild and hurt the very people you cared about.

You covered your face with your hands, your chest tightening with each breath. "Why can't I just get it right?" you choked out, your voice breaking. "Why can't I just… know what I want?"

The tears came harder then, and you let them, unable to hold back any longer. You hated the feeling of weakness, hated that you were so torn up inside. You wanted to be strong, to have everything figured out. But you didn't. You were a mess, and you couldn't escape it.

"I'm so sorry," you whispered, the words more for yourself than anyone else. "I'm sorry for being this way."

It was so much. You could feel the weight of it crushing you, suffocating you with each breath. The silence of the rooftop only made it worse, amplifying the noise in your own head. You weren't sure how much more you could take.

And just as you were about to let the tears consume you completely, you heard footsteps behind you.

You wiped at your eyes quickly, trying to gather yourself, but it was too late. Sunghoon had already seen you.

"You shouldn't be out here alone," he said, his voice soft, almost too soft for the weight of the moment. You didn't even turn to face him. You didn't want him to see you like this, broken and vulnerable. But you could hear him moving closer, his footsteps steady and sure.

"I'm fine," you whispered, but it was a lie. You weren't fine. You were far from it.

He didn't say anything at first. Instead, you felt him sit down beside you, the warmth of his body a quiet presence against your cold, shaking form. His silence wasn't uncomfortable, though. It was… soothing. A small comfort in the chaos of your thoughts.

"You don't have to pretend with me, Y/N," he said softly, his tone steady but filled with understanding. "You don't have to hold it all in."

The words hit you like a wave, and before you could stop yourself, a sob broke free from your chest. You hadn't realized how much you needed to hear that. How much you needed to hear that it was okay to fall apart, that it was okay to be weak.

"I'm so sorry," you whispered through your tears. "I'm sorry for everything. For making it so complicated. For hurting everyone. I didn't mean to. I never meant for any of this to happen."

Sunghoon didn't move. He stayed close, letting you cry, his presence a steady anchor in the storm of your emotions.

"You're not hurting anyone," he said gently. "But you have to let yourself breathe, Y/N. You can't keep holding all of this in. It's okay to feel what you're feeling."

You shook your head, the tears still coming. "I don't know what to feel. I don't know what to do."

"I know," he said, his voice calm. "But you'll figure it out. You don't have to do it alone."

You laughed bitterly, looking at him then, even though your tears blurred your vision. "Look at me right now. I'm the one who's hurting you. I'm the one causing all of this, and yet here you are, comforting me." You swallowed hard, more tears slipping down your face. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry for dragging you into this."

Sunghoon's hand moved to your shoulder, and you could feel the warmth of his touch, grounding you. "You're not dragging me into anything," he said softly. "I'm here because I care. I'm not going anywhere."

You shook your head, feeling a pit in your stomach. "I don't deserve this," you whispered, feeling utterly broken. "I don't deserve to have people like you care about me."

Sunghoon didn't respond immediately. Instead, he sat beside you, silent and steady, as if he were letting you say everything you needed to say, as if he knew that sometimes, there were no words to fix everything.

The tears slowed, but the weight in your chest didn't go away. You felt raw and vulnerable, like you had laid everything out in front of him. But something in the way he sat beside you—his quiet strength, his unwavering support—made it feel a little less like you were drowning.

Finally, Sunghoon spoke again, his voice soft, but full of warmth. "You're not alone in this, Y/N. We'll figure it out. Together."

You nodded, your chest tightening again, but not from sadness this time. It was something else, something soft and almost like relief. The tension in your body didn't disappear, but somehow, it wasn't as heavy.

You swallowed hard, feeling a mix of relief and something else you couldn't quite place. But before you could pull away, Sunghoon's voice stopped you.

"I know what happened with the other two."

Your heart stopped. You looked at him, trying to gauge if he was joking. But there was no teasing in his expression, no sign of anger. Just calm understanding. Your chest tightened, and you felt a lump in your throat.

"I… I didn't mean for things to get so complicated," you whispered, your voice small, ashamed.

Sunghoon nodded slowly, his gaze unwavering. "I'm not mad, Y/N. I'm not angry. I understand."

You opened your mouth to say something, but nothing came out. You felt your mind spinning, all the thoughts crashing into each other. This—this thing you were doing, the mess you were making—it was all too much. You couldn't handle the guilt, couldn't deal with the weight of it anymore.

You turned your head, your hands shaking as you reached up to tie your hair up. You felt frantic, out of control, and the only thing that came to your mind was to offer something—anything—to make it right. To stop feeling so wrong.

"You—" you started, but your voice was shaky, desperate. "You want me to—want me to give you head? I could—" Your hands were still moving frantically, trying to tie your hair up, anything to stop the overwhelming pressure building in your chest. "I'll make it right, I'll do whatever you want, just… please, tell me what you want, and I'll do it."

You felt the panic rise in your throat, your breathing shallow, as the words tumbled out before you could stop them. The sense of needing to fix everything by any means possible—it was overwhelming.

But Sunghoon's reaction wasn't what you expected. His hand gently caught yours, stopping your movements, and when you looked up at him, his eyes were filled with something softer than you had expected. There was no anger, no judgment. But there was something else—something that made your chest tighten even more.

He took a deep breath, exhaling slowly. “Y/N…” His voice cracked a little, and you could see his eyes glistening with unshed tears. "You don't need to do that. You don't need to fix anything. You don't have to give me anything." His thumb gently brushed against your wrist, calming you in a way that no words could. "You don't need to make up for anything."

Your body froze, the reality of what he said hitting you harder than anything else. "But… I… I hurt you, Sunghoon. I hurt you all. I just… I don't know how to make it stop. I don't know how to fix this."

He shook his head softly, his voice quiet but full of emotion. "You don't need to fix anything, Y/N. You're not the problem. You're… you're human. You're allowed to make mistakes. You're allowed to be confused. Just… let yourself be okay with that."

Tears welled up in your eyes again, but this time, they weren't full of guilt or panic. They were filled with something else. Vulnerability. Acceptance. The weight you'd been carrying felt lighter somehow, but the release of it only made the rawness of your feelings crash in on you harder.

"You don't have to apologize for everything," Sunghoon whispered, his voice soft. "You don't have to be perfect. You just need to let yourself feel. Let yourself breathe."

You bit your lip, trying to hold back the flood of emotions that were threatening to break free, but they came anyway—hot and fast, rolling down your cheeks. You hadn't realized how much you needed someone to say that. To say you didn't have to fix everything, that it was okay to be lost for a while.

You let yourself lean into him then, letting the weight of everything go as he held you close.

Sunghoon didn't let go. He just held you—comforting, steady, as you cried, letting the tears wash away all the guilt and uncertainty you'd been carrying.

When the tears finally slowed, you pulled away, your face flushed from crying. You looked up at him, sniffing and wiping at your eyes, still feeling so vulnerable, so raw.

"I'm sorry," you whispered again, your voice hoarse. "I don't know what I'm doing."

Sunghoon's smile was small but soft, his eyes kind. "You don't have to know. Just… be you. That's enough."

You nodded, feeling a sense of peace that you hadn't expected to find so suddenly. But it was there, soft and comforting in his presence. It was enough.

Sunghoon's grip on your hands tightened just a little, like he was grounding you in this moment, as you slowly calmed down. He looked at you with that same calm and understanding expression, as if he wasn't about to rush you into anything—something that made the overwhelming pressure in your chest ease just a bit more.

"You don't have to make any decisions right now, Y/N," he said softly, his voice steady. "You don't have to choose between us right away." He took a deep breath, his eyes soft and earnest as he spoke, like he was giving you permission to take your time. "I'll talk to the guys. We'll figure this out together, okay? But you need to take some time to think, to breathe. We'll give you space to sort out your feelings. You don't have to make any decisions while you're still… figuring it out."

You swallowed, nodding slowly as his words sunk in. It was like a weight had been lifted off your shoulders. You didn't have to rush into anything. You didn't have to make some grand gesture to fix everything. You could just be—take things one step at a time.

His hand brushed against your cheek gently, wiping away a stray tear that had fallen during your moment of vulnerability. The gesture felt so tender, so comforting, like he was there, not to pressure you, but to support you as you figured out what to do next.

"I know it's a mess," Sunghoon said, his voice low, almost apologetic. "But we'll make it work, Y/N. I'm not going anywhere. None of us are." He paused, his gaze never leaving yours. "And neither are you."

You nodded again, this time feeling a bit more at ease. There was a deep part of you that appreciated the way he was handling everything—giving you space, but still offering his support, not expecting you to have it all figured out immediately.

"I'm sorry for making everything so complicated," you murmured, your voice small.

"Hey," Sunghoon said, his tone firm yet gentle, "You don't have to apologize for feeling things. You didn't ask for this mess, and you don't have to fix it all at once. Just… breathe. It's going to be okay."

You felt the last of the tension in your chest slowly start to unwind. His words, his presence, his understanding—they were a comfort, a balm to the rawness you'd been carrying.

"It'll be okay," Sunghoon added quietly, as if to reassure you further. "We'll figure this out. We're all in this together. And you don't have to do it alone."

You let out a shaky breath, feeling a tear slip down your cheek despite the calmness washing over you. But this time, it wasn't sadness—it was relief.

"Thank you," you whispered, the words coming out more heartfelt than you'd expected.

Sunghoon gave you a soft smile, nodding in reassurance. "Anytime, Y/N. Anytime."

For a while, the two of you sat there in silence, just sharing the moment. It wasn't easy, but it was a step toward something. Something that felt like understanding, something that felt like hope. And for the first time in what felt like forever, you allowed yourself to lean into that, to let the quiet moment settle in your heart.

Days after that moment with Sunghoon were filled with a haze of sleepless nights and quiet mornings. You'd distanced yourself—not because the boys pushed you away, but because they didn't. They gave you the space Sunghoon had promised. No probing questions. No passive-aggressive comments. Just… distance. And somehow, that hurt even more.

It was strange being in your own house again. The quiet felt unfamiliar. Cold. You had no one laughing in the next room. No shared meals or dumb banter or movies left half-watched on the couch. Just you. Alone with your thoughts.

Which was why, three days later, you found yourself curled up on the bed with your phone pressed to your ear, waiting for the FaceTime to connect.

"Holy finally!" Taehyun's face popped onto the screen, a dramatic groan escaping him as Hueningkai leaned over his shoulder, grinning.

"We thought you died," Kai added, waving. "Or worse—got a boyfriend and forgot about us."

You let out a laugh that didn't quite reach your eyes. "Not exactly."

Taehyun narrowed his eyes immediately. "Okay, what's wrong?"

"I—" You hesitated, fingers curling in the blanket bunched around your knees. "It's been… a lot."

Hueningkai sat up straighter. "This have something to do with the last time you called? The whole Jay-being-your-fake-boyfriend thing?"

You nodded slowly. "It's not fake anymore."

Taehyun's eyebrows shot up, but he stayed quiet, waiting for you to continue.

You swallowed. "Something happened. With Jake. Then… something else happened. With Jay. And then, I… I had a breakdown in front of Sunghoon. And that turned into a whole thing too."

It took a moment, but both of them visibly deflated. The teasing drained from their faces, replaced by concern and understanding.

You explained everything. Every confusing, tangled detail. The kiss at the gate with Jake. That night in your room. The aftermath. Jay on the porch. That night in his room. Sunghoon on the rooftop. The crying. The panic. The shame. All of it spilled out like floodgates had burst open.

By the time you finished, your eyes were glassy, and your throat ached from trying not to cry again.

"They've been nothing but good to me," you whispered. "And I just… keep messing it all up."

Taehyun was quiet for a beat, and then he said, "Y/N, you're not messing anything up. You're just human. This—what you're feeling—it's complicated, sure. But you're allowed to be confused. You're allowed to feel everything you're feeling."

Kai nodded slowly. "Honestly? It doesn't even sound like a love triangle. It's a love circle at this point."

That startled a laugh out of you, wet and breathless. "That's not helping."

"Okay, but listen," Taehyun cut in gently. "You've been through a lot. You moved, you got hit with Heeseung out of nowhere, and suddenly these guys show up who make you feel things you're not ready for. That's a lot."

"And none of them seem angry at you," Kai pointed out. "Which means they're probably feeling the same things you are. Scared. Confused. Maybe a little hopeful."

You looked down. "I feel gross."

"You're not," Taehyun said firmly. "You didn't lead anyone on. You're trying to be honest. It's just… messy. Love is messy. You know that better than anyone."

You let the silence sit for a moment, heart beating unevenly.

"I didn't mean to get attached," you said finally, your voice small, fragile. "I really tried not to. But it's like… it just happened when I wasn't paying attention. One second I was just grateful to have people being nice to me, and then…"

You trailed off, trying to catch your breath as the weight of your own confession settled around you.

Taehyun's expression softened. "And then it felt like home, didn't it?"

Your eyes stung. "Yeah."

Hueningkai leaned forward, his teasing long gone. "You let your guard down. That's not weakness, Y/N. That's trust."

"But that's the problem," you whispered, hands gripping the edge of your blanket. "I trusted too easily. I crossed too many lines. I hurt them. And I hate myself for it."

Taehyun shook his head slowly. "You didn't hurt them by feeling something. You didn't do anything wrong by catching feelings."

You blinked hard, looking away. "But I didn't just catch feelings for one of them. That's the part that makes me feel disgusting."

There was a beat of silence. Then Kai asked gently, "Do you regret any of it?"

Your stomach twisted. You thought about Jake's nervous laughter, Jay's quiet intensity, Sunghoon's unwavering calm.

"No," you admitted, voice cracking. "That's what scares me."

Taehyun's voice was firm but kind. "You got attached because they treated you like you mattered. Because they made you feel seen. That's not something you should punish yourself for."

Kai raised his eyebrows. "Yeah, unless you ghost them all and move to the states. Then maybe we'll judge you a little."

You snorted, wiping your face with your sleeve. "I thought about it."

"Don't," Taehyun said. "You're not broken. You're just… figuring it out. And they clearly care about you enough to give you time to do that. That says a lot."

You looked at both of them, your chest tight. "I don't deserve any of you."

Kai huffed. "Stop that. You do. You just forgot for a little while."

You nodded slowly, a breath catching in your throat. "I guess… I just don't know who I am without all the noise right now."

"Then this is the part where you find out," Taehyun said, his voice low but steady. "Take the time. Ask yourself the real questions. What do you want? Not who wants you. Not who needs you. You."

That settled deep in your bones—something real, something that hurt in a good way.

"Yeah," you whispered. "I will."

"Good," Kai said, relaxing back into the couch on his end of the call. "Because if we don't get a dramatic update soon, I swear to god, I will file a missing person's report. Emotionally."

You laughed wetly. "I love you guys."

"We love you more," Taehyun said, smiling. "Now go figure your shit out. We've got your back."

You hung up with a little more strength in your chest, but the decision still loomed over you like a shadow.

You'd opened your heart.

Now you had to decide what to do with it.

The following days blurred into one another like watercolor bleeding into paper. You existed in the quiet in-between, drifting from your room to the kitchen, out to the porch and back again. No more playful teasing from across couches. No more secondhand warmth in a home that wasn't yours but somehow had become one.

You didn't go over. Not even when you heard their laughter on the other side of the wall. Not even when silence settled in, and it felt like they were waiting.

Instead, you sat with it. All of it.

Your guilt. Your want. Your indecision.

You journaled. You overthought. You laid on the floor and stared at the ceiling for hours, cycling through memories like some self-inflicted highlight reel—Jake's laugh against your skin, Jay's voice in the dark, Sunghoon's arms around you when you were breaking.

How could something that had made you feel so whole also tear you apart like this?

Sometimes you hated them for making you feel seen. Other times, you hated yourself for needing it so badly.

There was no clean answer. No neat conclusion. Only the dull ache in your chest and the knowledge that no matter what choice you made, someone was going to get hurt.

And you would lose something—someone—no matter what.

But you couldn't stay in limbo forever.

One night, just after the sun dipped low enough to tint the sky gold, you stood on your porch and stared at their door. Your feet carried you forward before your brain could protest.

The door opened too fast. Jake.

His eyes widened for a split second, but he stepped aside without a word, jaw tight.

Jay was sitting at the table. Sunghoon leaned against the back wall, arms crossed.

All of them looked like they hadn't slept right in days.

You didn't sit. You stood in the middle of the room and met all three of their gazes one by one. No more hiding.

"I'm sorry," you said first. "For all of it. For not knowing what I wanted. For dragging you through it."

Silence.

Then Jay's voice, low: "You don't have to apologize for feeling something."

"But I do," you insisted, voice cracking. "Because I didn't just feel something. I felt… everything. For all of you. And I didn't know how to stop it. I still don't."

Jake looked down. Sunghoon's jaw tensed. Jay didn't move.

Your throat burned. "I've spent days trying to figure it out. To pick a side. But the truth is… I loved the way Jake made me feel like joy was still possible. I loved how Jay made me feel safe. And I loved the way Sunghoon never asked me to be anything more than exactly what I was."

Jake swallowed hard. "Don't do this just to make us feel better."

"I'm not," you whispered. "I needed to say it. Because I don't know if I get to keep saying anything after tonight."

Still, none of them moved. The tension stretched like a held breath.

You stepped back, chest tight. "I've made my decision."

Their eyes snapped to yours.

"I know now," you said, voice low. Steady. "I know what I want."

The silence was sharper this time, a breath held between all of you.

Jake blinked, eyes searching. Sunghoon's lips parted, like he might speak but thought better of it. Jay looked down, then back up at you.

And then—you said it.

Just a name. Just once. And everything shifted.

Jake looked away first, nodding slowly, jaw tightening. No anger. Just acceptance.

Jay's eyes closed for a second—relief or heartbreak, you couldn't tell.

Sunghoon took the longest to react. He didn't move at all until finally, he exhaled. A soft breath, then a quiet, unreadable smile.

No one cried. No one yelled. No one left.

But you knew it was the beginning of something. And the end of something else.

You just didn't know yet what came after.

The camera was angled awkwardly, bouncing slightly as your phone leaned against the mirror. You were mid–toothbrush, foam clinging to the corners of your mouth, hair a mess from sleep and cheeks still warm from last night.

On-screen, Taehyun and Hueningkai were already in full chaotic mode.

"I'm telling you," Kai was saying, waving a spoon of cereal like it was a weapon, "this guy came up to me at the convenience store and asked if I wanted to buy his mixtape. I said no, and he still shoved it in my hand! Who carries CDs anymore?!"

Taehyun snorted. "You? Apparently."

You laughed through the foam in your mouth, spitting into the sink. "You have 'CD buyer energy,' Kai. Just admit it."

"Wow," he said flatly. "Betrayed by the one person I thought had taste."

As you reached for your towel, something behind you caught Taehyun's eye. He leaned closer to his screen.

"Wait…" he squinted. "Is that… is that an extra toothbrush?"

You froze for half a second. Just a beat. Then casually kept patting your face dry.

"What extra toothbrush?" you asked, too innocently.

Hueningkai leaned in now too. "Oh my god. It is! That's not yours. Yours is the purple one—who's the blue one?!"

"Must be a reflection," you said quickly.

"In the mirror?"

"Wouldn't you two like to know," you smirked, tossing the towel over the edge of the sink.

Taehyun's mouth dropped open. “Y/N—”

"Who is it?" Kai gasped dramatically. "Don't tell me you actually made a choice."

Before you could answer—or deflect again—a voice called faintly from offscreen:

"Babe! Did you see where I left my hoodie?"

You froze for just a second… and then smiled slowly.

"Bye!!" you said sweetly, grabbing your phone.

"WAIT—" Taehyun shouted.

"WHO'S WAITING FOR YOU?!" Kai screamed, full panic in his tone.

But you were already hitting end, cheek sore from grinning.

Somewhere behind you, footsteps padded closer. A soft laugh. And then a warm arm wrapped around your waist as you leaned back into the person you chose.

"Come on, the other two are already waiting for us."

And this time, you didn't feel unsure at all.

© all rights reserved ─ @gyu-tori 2025

Rei's Notes ✎: Uhm... hi? I'm back alive yippie!! I think a 22k fic is enough as an apology for how long I've been gone. To be honest I don't think I'm back at my peak motivation and skill to write yet but I owe you guys a story after a while. I still hope you enjoy it, especially since thees smut again teehee. Trying a new way to approach graphics too!! Decided to write a long one since I’m not sure how long til my next one. As always I'd love to hear your thoughts and how this made you feel so leave a reblog or reply!! <33

⟢ Taglist: @yunverie @dawngyu @hueningstar @hhoneyhan @immelissaaa @lovingbeomgyudayone @xylatox @i-like-to-read-at-4am @pagelets @isjsnsjsn @laylasbunbunny @riribelle @highway-143 @dearestdreamies @strxwbloody @deobitifull @enhaformysanity @httpenhoon @kissesfrombella @m1kkso @saejinniestar @mariegalea If you want to be tagged in all of my fics, go here to be added to my permanent taglist.

[a-hermit-pining]

LaDs Men as RomCom Movies

AN: Sylus' is major canon divergence. But that is the way of romcoms. I reckon this blog needs some fluff after the last post.

Pairing: LaDS boys x gn reader

Genre: rom com au, canon divergence

Ingredients: 100% fluff

My Fav: hmmmmm idk

(I do not own any of these characters)

Rafayel: Midnight in Paris 🧜🏻‍♂️

You were just an archaeologist. Specializing in Lemurian court ruins. Quiet. Logical. Never believed in myths. Only in stratigraphy and proper carbon dating.

So naturally, it made sense when you were cataloging an unclassified pearl and stepped through a half-collapsed archway… only for the world to shift around you.

Gone was the dig site. In its place: marble columns, flowing water, and a spring that shimmered like it was blessed by a god.

Which, as it turns out...it was.

A man...no, a siren, lounged lazily in the center of the pool, draped in silks and annoyance. He blinked at you. Stared.

Then said, in accented Lemurian: “A mortal? How dare you.”

A bar of soap hit your head. You blinked.

He blinked harder.“…Leave before I drown you out of sheer embarrassment,” he muttered, sinking slightly into the water.

You should run. You should record. You should definitely not flirt with the shirtless demigod pouting in a moonlit pool.

And yet. "You're real," you breathed.

Rafayel rolled his eyes. “Unfortunately.”

Xavier: 10 Things I hate About You 🤺

It started as a bet. A desperate one.

The knights of House Flame, exhausted, bruised, and teetering on the edge of mutiny, cornered Crown Prince Xavier behind the barracks and begged him for mercy.

“Just one night,” they said. “One gods damned evening without patrol rotations or combat drills or Captain Death’s Right Hook breathing down our necks.”

The condition? Get the captain to attend the royal ball.

Easy, Xavier thought. How hard could it be to charm a soldier? Then he met you.

You, with your armor still half on and your sword strapped across your back at the banquet table. You, who glared at the string quartet like they’d personally offended your ancestors.

He tried every line he had. You blocked every one with a deadpan stare and a curt, “I don’t dance.”

He said it was strategy training. You said it was entrapment. He brought flowers. You threw them at his second-in-command.

And yet. Here he was. At the ball. With you.

You in dark crimson, your armor traded for something that somehow still made you look like war incarnate. Your fingers on his. Your brow furrowed like you were still trying to figure out why the hell you were here.

The knights cheered from the edge of the ballroom. The bet was won. But Xavier wasn’t thinking about that anymore.

Because somewhere between your refusal to waltz and the way you let him twirl you, once, clumsily, but with a smile, he realized something terrifying.

He wanted a second dance. And this time, he wouldn’t need a wager to get it.

Zayne: Me, Before You 👩🏻‍🦼‍➡️

He’d done this before.

Treated war survivors. Cursed aristocrats. One fire witch who tried to hex the entire ward because her IV drip was "aesthetically insulting."

That’s why he had the reputation he did.

So when famous Dr. Zayne was assigned to you, the terminally ill, emotionally volatile heir of a very wealthy (and very dramatic) family. He didn’t expect much.

Another spoiled patient. Another person who’d given up long before the prognosis did.

What he didn’t expect was to be:

Forced to judge midnight wheelchair races in your family’s marble hallways ("Speed is relative, Zayne, don’t be boring.")

Learning to DIY allergen-safe brownies that wouldn’t send you to the afterlife faster than fate already planned

Thrusted into corset duty during an impromptu costume ball you hosted in your bedroom ("Don’t ask." "I wasn’t going to." "You paused." "...Fair.")

He was supposed to be your doctor.

Not your chaos coordinator.

Not your reluctant best friend.

And definitely not the man who sits on your balcony every sunset, holding your hand like he’s already mourning something that hasn’t happened yet.

Sylus: The Proposal 💍

When Sylus, yes, that Sylus, head of Onichynus, past dragon, terrifying, charming, a little too beautiful to be legal, tells you you’re getting married…

You assume it’s a joke.

“Married,” you repeat.

He nods once, solemn. “To me.”

Pause. “…Why.”

“There’s an inheritance clause. Council won’t release the southern territories unless I present a bonded partner.” He looks away like it pains him. “I would rather die than marry any of the harpies they lined up. So.”

He slides the ring box across the table.

You open it. There’s an actual, live ruby in it. It purrs.

Next thing you know, you’re flying first-class (on the back of his cousin) to his ancestral villa in the Drakherin mountains, where:

His grandmother keeps saying “finally”. His cousin tries to duel you for fun. The staff already embroidered your initials on the sheets. And Sylus keeps doing things like pulling you close for warmth and forgetting to let go

“You’re doing it again,” you mutter one night, pressed against his chest.

“What?”

“Holding me like it’s real.”

He stiffens. Then shrugs. “Maybe I’m just a good actor.”

“You’re literally growling when I talk to other people.”

“Authenticity is important.” He murmurs, suddenly very interested in the satin pillowcase.

Caleb: 13 Going on 30 ⏳

You wake up in a bed that isn’t yours. The ceiling’s too high. The sheets are too soft. The arm around you is heavy. Cold. Metal.

You scream. You fling yourself out of the bed with so much force that you hit the floor sideways, taking the blanket and your dignity, with you.

The man in the bed bolts upright. Half-asleep. Half-naked and fully terrifying. “Pips?!” he shouts, voice panicked. “Are you hurt?!”

You point at him. “DO NOT CALL ME THAT!”

He stops mid-motion. Eyes wide yet confused.

You crawl backward. “You’re a STRANGER and you have a METAL ARM and WHY ARE YOU IN MY BED?!”

He stares. “I...this is my bed?”

“You’re lying!”

“I’m not—”

“You know my nickname!” He looks even more confused. “I know everything about you.”

GROSS.” You grab a pillow and yeet it at him with alarming force. “STALKER.”

“I’m not...Pips, it’s me. It’s Caleb.”

You freeze. Blink once. Stare at him. “…No you’re not,” you whisper.

“Yes. I am.”

“Caleb is twelve. He likes bugs and eats chalk and cried when I kicked him in tag.” You squint at him like he’s an imposter sent by a very dramatic cult. “You have, like, abs. And a jawline. And chest hair. Caleb is my age and has braces, okay?!”

He blinks. “Huh... what?”

Your eyes widen. “CALEB!!” you scream, full volume, as you bolt from the bed and take off sprinting through the unfamiliar apartment. Clearly this man had abducted you. Or time-cloned you. Or age-spelled you into your thirties and was trying to pretend to be your best friend.

Either way, this was STRANGER DANGER: LEVEL APOCALYPSE. The transformer man yells after you. You shriek again and dive behind a dresser.

He follows, confused and shirtless, cautiously peeking around the corner. “Pips, please,”

You grab a lamp. “I SWEAR I’LL THROW THIS,” you warn, shaking.

“…That’s grandma’s heirloom.”

[ssvnriise]

THE PILLOW TOJII FIC WAS SOO GOOD OMG could you do a part 2 when the reader is ovulating and starts grinding on him all of a sudden

a/n — AAAAHHHHH GLAD YOU LIKED IT!! ty anon this was fun to write 🫦

synopsis — movie night with toji was supposed to be simple—just the two of you, a quiet couch, and a forgettable film. but you’re ovulating, needy, and far too sensitive for anything innocent

content warnings — NSFW/mdni, dom!toji, degradation, humiliation, dirty talk, grinding/dry humping, use of pet names (“slut, “baby”, etc)

part one of this fic <3

you squirm subtly in toji’s lap, shifting your weight again as you try—really try—to focus on the movie playing in front of you. the lights are dim, the room quiet save for the low murmur of dialogue from the screen. it should be relaxing, should be easy. but it’s not. not when your body feels like it’s on fire from the inside out.

you’re ovulating. and when you’re ovulating, it’s like your whole body turns against you—every nerve ending tuned to the thrum of want, every thought hijacked by the unbearable ache between your legs. and having toji this close? his thick arm slung around your waist, the heat of his palm resting heavy on the small of your back as he lazily traces circles with his fingertips? it’s torture.

he’s not even trying to do anything. that’s the worst part.

you shift again, inhaling a quiet, shaky breath as you try to ignore the pulsing heat in your core. toji glances at you out of the corner of his eye, his brow quirking. “sweetheart, you sure you’re okay? that’s like the fifth time you’ve moved like that,” he murmurs, voice low and rough with amusement.

you don’t look at him—can’t. you only hum, “i’m fine,” and force yourself to go still, biting down hard on your lower lip to keep from whining. but the stillness only makes the need worse. it coils tighter inside you, unbearable, demanding. after a moment, you give in to it, exhaling shakily as you press your hips down—grinding against the thick muscle of his thigh. the friction is desperate, clumsy, but it sends a jolt of pleasure straight through you.

toji freezes for a heartbeat. then, slowly, a grin spreads across his face. he tilts his head, eyes gleaming with smug amusement as he watches you rock against him like you can’t help yourself.

“baby,” he drawls, voice rich and teasing. “you tryna get off on my leg like some desperate little bunny in heat?”

you whimper at his words—sharp, mocking—but they only make your core clench tighter. you bury your face against his shoulder, burning with humiliation and need. you don’t want to be this desperate, but it’s impossible not to be when he talks to you like that, when his thigh is so solid and warm beneath you.

“toji,” you whisper, barely audible. Your voice trembles. “please…”

his smirk deepens. he doesn’t move an inch to help you. doesn’t shift his leg, doesn’t press you down harder, doesn’t do a damn thing. he just watches you with those lazy, half-lidded eyes, clearly entertained.

“please what?” he murmurs, dragging his hand lower on your back, fingers brushing the curve just above your ass. “you’re the one humping my leg like a needy little slut. you started this—so finish it.”

you shudder at the way his voice drops, smooth and dark like velvet soaked in whiskey. still, you keep grinding—slow, shaky circles—your panties soaked through, your breath catching with every frictioned pass of your clit against the muscle of his thigh.

“toji, I—fuck, I can’t,” you gasp, hips stuttering. “need more, please, help me…”

his hand tightens briefly at your hip before releasing again, purely for show. he tilts his head, mock concern in his eyes. “can’t? aw, sweetheart. thought you were a big girl.” he leans in, lips brushing your ear. “but if all it takes is a little dry humping to turn you into a whiny mess on my lap… maybe I should just let you hump it out. like the desperate thing you are.”

your whole body burns at the humiliation, at the ache threatening to snap you in two. and still, he doesn’t move. doesn’t help. just lets you writhe against his thigh, soaking through your panties as he sits back to enjoy the show, the corners of his mouth twitching with cruel amusement.

“you want my help?” he murmurs, lips brushing your jaw. “then earn it. get off on my leg, and maybe I’ll consider giving you a real fuck.”

you choke on a gasp, your whole body trembling as you keep grinding down on his thigh, slick soaking the fabric of your panties, your pleasure high strung and humiliating. you’re so close—but not close enough. and toji knows it.

he watches you with a half-lidded gaze, dark with amusement and something sharper—cruel, indulgent interest. like he’s watching a pet perform a trick.

“bet you’d hump anything right now, wouldn’t you?” he growls into your ear, hot breath making you shiver. “fuck, I could make you ride my boot and you’d probably thank me for it.”

your face burns. you try to hide it, but he catches your chin between his fingers, forcing you to look at him. his eyes are narrowed, almost mocking. “nah, don’t go all shy on me now. you wanted this, right? begged me for help not two minutes ago.”

“toji…” you breathe, eyes glassy, desperate. “please… I need—”

“yeah, yeah,” he interrupts with a bored sigh, finally shifting under you. he bounces his thigh—just once. just enough for your breath to hitch. then again. and again. a slow, rhythmic rise and fall beneath your dripping cunt, and it nearly unravels you.

“see?” he drawls, almost lazily. “there. that better for your messy little pussy?”

you whimper pathetically in response, hands clutching at his shoulders like lifelines as your body jolts with every bounce. he lets you ride it, lets you make a mess of yourself—and then you feel his hand slip lower. down the back of your panties, warm and rough and possessive, fingers spreading over the curve of your ass.

he squeezes—hard—like he’s claiming it. like it belongs to him.

“god damn,” he growls against your neck, voice hot and cruel, “you really are soaking. got my whole leg wet, baby. you proud of yourself? humping me like a bitch in heat and acting like i’m the one being mean.”

you shiver, the humiliation sinking deeper into your bones, making your clit throb. he doesn’t touch it—of course not. just keeps bouncing his leg, holding your ass in a punishing grip while you work yourself toward release like some needy little thing with no shame.

toji chuckles low in his throat, amused, aroused, and endlessly entertained by your desperation.

“go on, sweetheart,” he murmurs, voice a low rumble in your ear. “make a mess for me. you don’t get my cock ‘til you cream on my fucking thigh first.”

your thighs are trembling, muscles tight and straining as the rhythm of his bouncing leg matches the frantic beat of your pulse. every rise and fall rubs your clit just right, each bounce pressing you down harder, deeper, into the thick muscle of his thigh. the slick mess between your legs spreads with every motion—your panties soaked through, clinging to your folds like a second skin.

toji’s hand on your ass keeps you grounded, fingers digging into the soft flesh like he owns it. like you’re not even a person anymore, just a toy in his lap, good for getting yourself off and putting on a show.

and god—he’s watching you like he loves it. smug and lazy, like he’s not even breaking a sweat while your whole body starts to fall apart.

“look at you,” he murmurs, low and gravelly, voice sliding right down your spine. “you really gonna cum from this? from humping my leg like a bitch in heat? fuckin’ embarrassing.”

you whimper at the words, but they only push you closer—white-hot shame mixing with pleasure so intense it’s blinding. you bury your face into his shoulder again, moaning brokenly as your hips stutter and jerk, the pressure building impossibly tight in your core.

“toji—” you gasp, barely holding yourself up. “I—fuck—I’m gonna—”

“oh, I know you are,” he growls, gripping your ass tighter, forcing your hips down just as his thigh bounces up. the impact rocks through your whole body—your clit catching just right—and it breaks you.

you cum with a soft, choked cry, back arching as your body shudders violently. your pussy clenches around nothing, fluttering helplessly as your orgasm crashes over you, molten and overwhelming. your legs spasm, your hips grinding down in short, needy jerks as you ride it out, as your slick gushes into the fabric of his sweats, soaking him completely.

toji watches the whole thing with that damned smirk, licking his teeth like he’s proud—but only of what a mess you’ve made.

“jesus, look at that,” he mutters, pulling his hand free from your panties to smack your ass hard, watching you jolt and twitch from the overstimulation. “came like a fuckin’ virgin just from my leg. you that cock-starved, sweetheart?”

you don’t answer. you can’t. your body’s gone limp against his chest, panting and dazed, and he chuckles, clearly pleased with himself.

he shifts you in his lap, rubbing his hand slowly up the inside of your thigh as he leans in close, voice low and cruelly affectionate. “hope you didn’t think that was the end, baby. you made this mess. you’re gonna clean it up—with your mouth.”

hes so mean i need him omgg

[shoumachisblog]

The Night We Met

Sunmi x Male Reader (3.1K words)

Tags: Deepthroat, Cunnilingus, Squirting, Age Gap (you're the younger one), Stressed Sunmi, Stressed Reader, Just fucking read it.

You arrived at the bar that was a few kilometers away from your house after a long day at work. You were not planning to knock yourself out tonight but after going through all the work that you've done today, you thought you deserve some kind of reward. It is a small bar that barely had people in it but it became one of your favorite places because it was quiet and you can have your fill peacefully.

“You're back." The bartender greeted you. “I thought you've found a new place to kill your time." You let out a chuckle. “There's no way I can find a place as quiet as this place." You sat at the bar, asking for a large glass of beer. You heard the entrance creak, but you decided to ignore it. You knew some of the regulars who live nearby in this area and they would greet you with lazy, drunken smiles and small nods.

As the night goes by, you're already on your 7th glass which is surprising because you chugged down 6 large glasses of beer and are still sober, so unhealthy but this is your only way to cope.

It's been a month since you were hired at one of the most renowned companies in your country and if there is one thing you could say about your current job is that you'd rather die than keep working at that company. The pay is amazing but the working environment isn't as good as you thought. The environment is so toxic and harmful that if anyone has a mental condition, they might go crazy and immediately off'ed themselves. You barely made friends because everyone is busy competing with each other even though they are supposed to work as a team. You let out a big sigh while taking the last few gulps of your drink.

“I wish I could have sex right now."

“I wish I could have sex right now."

Your eyes widened as you turned your head to the side and saw a woman who sat not too far from you. She is probably on her 7th or 8th drink, judging from the amount of soju in the bottle that she has consumed.

“I'm sorry if you hear that out loud...." You said nervously, trying not to make any eye contact with the woman.

“It's....okay." the woman gave you a small yet warm smile. “I should be the one who says sorry because you heard something ridiculous."

At the sound of silence, the woman suddenly moves to sit beside you. “If you don't mind me asking, are you alone?" You were taken aback by the sudden approach. Now that you take a good look at the woman, she looks familiar. As if you've seen her somewhere on television or something.

“Yeah…” you replied, with a small smile and began pouring soju into your glass. “How about you? Are you alone or are you with someone right now?” You asked, taking a sip and your face scrunching up a bit. “Well, I’m alone too. I’m Sunmi, by the way.” Your brain somehow is working as slow as a tortoise tonight, after taking a long sip of your drink, you finally realized the real identity of the woman beside you.

You look towards her direction, “You are that idol, aren’t you?” Sunmi's smile grew as she finished her drink. “Bingo!” She said, placing the glass back down on the table. “What’s your name, handsome? You look quite young.” She poured the soju into her glass and yours. “Just call me handsome and I’m pretty young, noona.” you replied coolly, arching a brow as you regarded her. “So what do you do for a living? You look like someone who is involved in investment.” You chuckled, taking a sip of your drink that Sunmi just poured into your glass.

You began to tell Sunmi a bit about yourself and your career, to the point that you accidentally vented about the problem you had at your workplace. You couldn't remember the last time you’d left work at a decent hour or even had an entire weekend free, but one thing that you’re sure is that you weren’t having it easy. Your manager was constantly riding you, sending emails every hour and kept threatening you about the consequences if you were unable to meet the impossible deadline. You thought your mental health would get better after you got a job, with a decent pay and escaped from the education world but no, it gets worse. If you compared your life when you were still a university student and your current one, you could say it is the same but at least when you could have some fun when you were a university student. Now your mental health has deteriorated to the point where you couldn’t even enjoy a quiet evening at home without feeling worried and guilty for not getting tons of work done as soon as possible.

“That’s why you said you wish you could have sex right now, huh?” Sunmi nodded, understanding. “You really went through a lot for someone who just started working, kiddo!” She grabbed her glass and you did the same and both of you clink your glasses.

“What’s your story, noona?” You asked, placing the glass back onto the table after taking another sip of your drink.

Sunmi sighed heavily. “Nothing…. It's just that for the past few days, I feel so exhausted. I had to keep up with my schedules and barely had time to take a break. The pressure to be perfect all the time, to look good and able to perform well on stage is so tiring.” You listened intently as Sunmi unburdened herself. You always thought that being an idol or an artist is the freedom that everyone has been looking for if you have the talent to become one, but now that you’ve listened to Sunmi’s story, it is not as easy as you thought it would be.

As the night wore on and the drinks kept flowing, Sunmi found herself opening up even more to you. You’re someone who she just met 30 minutes ago, not to mention you’re much younger and have less experience in the working era than her but somehow she felt truly seen and understood by someone outside of her tightly controlled world. She didn’t have to act or worry about herself getting criticized. She can be herself with you.

As the hours ticked by, she gazed at your face illuminating by the pulsing bar lights and for some reason she felt a growing sense of attraction. “Hey, since we both want the same thing, would you like to spend the night with me?” You froze, turning your head slowly towards her direction. Your eyes meeting hers with an intensity that made Sunmi’s heart flutter. “You realized that I’m young enough to be your little brother right?” You replied, an awkward smile forms on your lips. Sunmi’s body is already humming in anticipation, leaning in closer so you could hear over loud and clear. “I know but in this case, age is just a number. Come on, this is your once in a lifetime chance to spend a night with an idol like me.” She said, her voice steady and sure. “or am I not good enough for you to have sex with?”

You shook your head, “No, you’re way too perfect.” It would be a fucking lie if you said that you don’t want to spend a night with her. Thanks to you two having a deep conversation about each other, you managed to take a good look at the older woman right in front of you. Sunmi is like a work of art, aging like a fine wine, a flawless canvas of soft curves and silky skin. Her long, smooth hair cascaded over her shoulder, tickling at the top of her ample breasts that beautifully shaped behind the fabric. Her pouty lips were slick with gloss inviting kisses. “Are you sure about doing it with someone younger than you?” You asked, and Sunmi smiled, trailing a finger along your jawline. “Well, everyone has their own first time. I’ll take all the chances to have my first and you are the first young person that I want to have sex with right now.”

You hesitated for a bit longer, searching for any sign of doubt or uncertainty on Sunmi’s face but all you saw was the desire shining in her eyes, the subtle parting of her lips as she waited for you. “If you’re really okay doing it with me, then it would be my honor to spend the night with you, noona.” A big smile appeared on Sunmi’s face as she leaned in, capturing your lips in a soft kiss and when you finally broke apart, both of you were panting, cheeks flushed. Both of you finished your drinks and gathered your things, nearly vibrating at the tension as you two headed for the door.

••••••••§••••••••§••••••••

The moment the elevator doors ping, you extend an arm, holding them open for the older woman to enter. “Thank you…” Sunmi said, with a sweet smile before she pressed the button for the 14th floor. You step inside and the elevator doors begin to close.

Sunmi immediately sidled closer to you. You could feel her desire for you in waves as you stared at her with wide eyes, mouth slightly opening, the sweet scent of her perfume sticks to you and you have a feeling that the smell might completely stick onto your skin. You grabbed the older woman’s face and closed the remaining distance between you and Sunmi. The closer she gets to you, the more beautiful she looks into your eyes as lips crash in a desperate and needy kiss.

You moaned into her mouth, spit swapping between your and her mouth as the two of you got drunk on each other’s taste. Your erection is growing tight underneath the fabric of your pants as it is pressed against Sunmi’s thighs. One of your hands is placed on her waist and slowly moving down towards her ass while the other curls around the back of her neck. It is a miracle that the elevator doesn't stop until it reaches the 14th floor because you don’t know what to do if someone saw you making out with an artist that could cause a controversy around the country. The sound of the elevator ding signalling that you’ve arrived on the 14th allows Sunmi to peel herself off you and the moment the elevator doors open, she grabbed your hand and dragged you towards her house.

She entered the password of the door and dragged you inside the house, slamming the door shut before locking it. “Make yourself at home.” she says, unbuttoning your jacket and taking it off. “I have a feeling that we are going to get along so well, noona.” You replied, “Call me noona one more time and I will kick you out.” It was supposed to be a threat,but you only laughed as you wrapped your hands around her waist. Sunmi led you to her bedroom, face flaming with excitement and desire. You touched her body as if she was an exquisite piece of art, exploring her body through the clothes with kind hands. “Do you want me to take it off for you or do you want to do it yourself?” The breath in her lungs stills and Sunmi could feel her pulse increase, thrumming inside her neck. “Just do whatever you want to do with me, baby. I’m all yours tonight….”

Of course, it didn’t take a long time for both of you to be completely naked on her bed. The bed that you are going to stain with sweat and sex from both of you. “You look amazing, Sunmi.” You said, your eyes analyzing every part of her sexy body. “I could say the same thing about you.” Sunmi’s sinuses were aligned, pupils all but dilating as cock hunger fully engulfed her mind. “You’re….huge…” Sunmi awkwardly sunk to her knees before you. “So thick….” Sunmi gasped, huffing your scent with long, deep inhales that vacuumed into her brain and let them explode inside her brain.

Sunmi’s lips parted to accept you and like a gentleman you are, you guided yourself into her mouth, where sludge-like precum leaking from the head of your cock. She sucked on the sensitive cap until she was fully comfortable with the thickness, groaning low in her throat. Sunmi begins to bob her head as you start to lose yourself in the heat and suction of her mouth. You reached for the back of the older woman’s head to grasp her hair so you could held her firm and deepthroated her. Sunmi looked up to you, she could feel your fingertips dig into the back of her head.

The older woman can’t stop groaning around your cock. It’s been for who knows how long since the last time she took a cock inside her but one thing that she’s sure of is that she won’t stop until she’s fully satisfied. Sunmi gripped your thighs, closing her eyes as she tried to focus on her breathing. “Fuck, Sunmi….” You gasped and by now, you had wholly lost your composure as you brutalized the older woman’s throat, whose face was red and her eyes were wide and glazed. She kept a hand on your balls, massaging the bloated tanks but everyone has their own limits and Sunmi was already at her limit as she kept pushing against your legs but you also reached your peak. You pushed Sunmi’s head, shoving the entire length of your cock as thick, milky cum spewed from your sensitive head into Sunmi’s thirsty maw and throat. You sighed, showing a sense of relief, as your cock won’t stop shooting rope after rope of cum to the point that Sunmi starts to choke and cough due to the amount of your ejaculation.

After minutes of an eternity of bliss, your orgasm finally faded like nothing happened. Your breathing soon slowed, panting like a dying man while Sunmi had her eyes leaking tears, fighting to breathe cum stenched air. You slowly pulled your cock out of the older woman’s mouth and once it was completely out with a pop, you laid your cock on top of her face and rubbed it all around, smearing the saliva that coated your cock on her face with the expectation of her cleaning. Sunmi was about to say something, but all that came out was choked gargles due to her mouth and throat still clogged with your cum. She used her hands to caresses your balls gently, using her tongue to clean your cock to the best of her ability.

Sunmi let out a soft moan, “You must have been pent up huh, baby boy?” She softly said.

“Well, I can’t remember the last time a woman made me cum this hard before.” You replied, you loosened your grip on her head, giving the older woman a bit of movement. “I hope you’re still strong because tonight is going to be a long night, baby boy.” Sunmi’s eyes completely focus on your balls, still heavy and bloated with cum that are about to be hers. “Good thing I have a very high stamina.” You said, both of you laughing at your words. This is the reason why Sunmi preferred to have sex with someone who’s one year or more younger than her compared to one who's the same age or more than her. There’s a huge difference in stamina.

“Allow me to return the favor…” You said, lifted the older woman and threw her onto the bed. Sunmi spread her legs as wide as possible, giving you the best access towards her wet pussy, voluntarily, invitingly. “Eat me, please….” You bury your face between your legs, letting your skilled tongue licking through her soft folds, running up and down, drawing a loud cry from the older woman. Sunmi can’t help but bury her fingers into your hair and pull your head closer, deeper between her legs. She threw her head back, it was too much, it was wet and messy but also fast. The slurping sound that your mouth made really drives the older woman wild as you marked her inside with skillful sweeps of your tongue.

Every touch, every lick, every swipe of your tongue and lips amplified the pleasure a thousand times, which made all the muscles in her pelvis and ass contract and relax. One of your hands travelled around her body and found its way between her thighs and carefully easing two fingers into the older woman. “God…. Please don’t stop….” Sunmi fluttering around your fingers as you pressed your thumb against her clit. You looked at her and dear lord she looks extremely beautiful when she was begging, that makes you wonder if there is anyone else besides you who has seen this side of Sunmi before.

Sunmi tilted her hips upwards to meet with the movements of your fingers and you kept your focus on just two fingers as you kept flicking your tongue against her clit. Your fingers searches everywhere you can to reach deeper inside her and once you angles your fingers up a bit more, you can feel her entire body start to shake and Sunmi was clinging to the sheets as if they are a lifeline. “G-spot spotted…” You thought. Sunmi interlocked her fingers with yours and the other hand was clutching your hair, driving your face even deeper into her warmth. Your motions were already driving the older woman insane, her breath coming out in short pants and loud moans to the point she can’t hold it any longer and erupt. There is no other way to describe what she is feeling right now.

The older woman screams in pleasure and her hips buck wildly, she felt a rush of liquid leaving her body, coating your fingers, your face as you kept ramming your fingers and licking with your tongue, feeling her muscles on that one patch of skin contract tighter and tighter, keeping your fingers buried solidly inside her. Another small flood of wetness streaming down your hand as you feel her muscles relax only to contract again and again. Her chest was heaving, her head thrown back with her eyes completely closed as her orgasm slowly but surely subsided and once her muscles abruptly relaxed, you slowly pulled your fingers out of her.

Once her breathing had returned to a steady pace, she opened her eyes and looked into yours. “Ready for round 3?” She asked, a sexy grin on her face. You can’t help but smile knowing that tonight will be one of the best night you ever had in your life.

Again no full seggs, I'm sorry 😞 Also, there is a potential for this one-shot to become a series. I have an idea but I don't know if I have the energy + passion to do it

[ms-demeanor]

So these computers will be mostly be used for CAD but also video editing. The time we are looking for is in the next few months. It will be running autodesk fusion which at minimum needs 2 cores, recommends 8 for cpu, needs 8gb of ram recommends 32gb, and needs aleast some sort of gpu and something like a nvidia quadro is recommended though I am mostly sure we would do fine with a 40s or 50s series GPU.

This is very funny to me because this is actually quite similar to the conundrum I had buying computers earlier today. Workstations are currently a bitch to get (and also that means that $1500 per device is somewhat unrealistic in the opposite direction of what I was initially thinking, especially given the graphics card)

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

Hi Anon!

Thanks for the details! We're beginning to see some stock availability issues with hardware so I'm not finding anything that's a perfect match out-of-box for your needs but I believe I've found a solution that should be comfortably within budget as long as you've got in-house IT or an affordable contractor to help with the build.

What I've found is a Lenovo ThinkStation P3 Tiny that comes with a 20-Core, 14th gen i7 processor, 16GB DDR5 5600 MHz RAM (SoDIMM), and an Nvidia T400 4GB graphics card. The workstation includes an upgraded Lenovo Premiere warranty with next-day onsite service. The ThinkStation has one RAM module soldered to the motherboard but two free slots and can handle a max of 96GB, so I'd recommend purchasing this device and adding 16GB Crucial modules.

Just to be sure, I did verify that the graphics card with this device is on the list of compatible cards from Autodesk.

I'm finding the workstation available from a number of vendors at about $1200, and the RAM is available for around $50. With tax, that brings your per-unit cost to around $1400, leaving just under $100 per machine to account for the labor cost of installing the RAM.

Let me know if this sounds like a solution that works for you, or if you have any further questions.

Given your timeline, you could choose to place orders from vendors who are not carrying the full 30 machines right now, but considering the possibility of scarcity I'd recommend making a decision sooner rather than later.

Thanks! Ms-D

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

Part of what I was struggling with on my quote today is that my employer doesn't want our techs mucking around with desktop hardware; we're not supposed to be ordering and upgrading before we send things out the door but that is not a limitation that an end purchaser has to live with so you (reader or anon) have more options and more flexibility when looking for computers than I do *IF* you make sure to check that you can do upgrades. It's not hard to add RAM to a desktop unless the RAM is soldered to the motherboard with no free slots, in which case it's impossible.

You can save a ridiculous amount of money on buying machines and have a LOT of options for dealing with scarcity if you know what kind of hardware is easy to fuck with.

In this instance, I wouldn't upgrade the GPU or by a card separate from the workstation (this computer has a 300W power supply and the computer itself is the size of most power supplies, so I wouldn't want to try to find something teeny tiny to work together), especially because there's a budget-friendly option that will allow the necessary programs to run available pre-built, but literally it would cost like five hundred dollars more to get something with more RAM. So save yourself a few hundred dollars by getting a fifty dollar RAM module and paying someone to install that in the machine or doing it yourself.

I don't think we're going to get to a point of completely empty shelves, but I do think we're likely to see fewer options that exactly match what we're looking for without doing some extra work. Large Bastard has been vaguely making noises about getting a new computer for the last two or three years and he's still on the fence and my comment to him was that I'm sure there's always going to be something available at a high enough cost, but there are going to be fewer choices if he has to replace a computer quickly (which, given the age of his desktop, he might have to at some point).

[bless-my-demons]

Second Chances - Part 2

Paul Lahote x Reader

Summary: Something is keeping Paul Lahote from giving in completely to the imprinting bond and somehow I’m the last person on the reservation to know why.

Warnings: angst and curse words (my favorite)

Notes: the way I’m laying in bed trying to be strategic with this angst

Word Count: 1,220

Masterlist

Part One

Paul

“She’ll be here, don’t worry.” I suppose Jared wouldn’t be my best friend if he couldn’t read my mind outside of our much larger altered forms.

“I wasn’t worried.” Long shot, but I go for the bluff anyways. I busy myself with digging through the beer cooler, not that these do anything besides take the edge off.

“Yeah and those tremors aren’t from your wolf.” My gaze shoots to his at the observation, I snap the lid closed.

Fuck. “Mind your own business.” I roll my eyes and scan everyone near the fire.

“You are my business, brother.” Jared pats me on the shoulder before walking away, his eyes set on his imprint.

Mine? Currently not at our weekly pack bonfire. Hasn’t been for the last two weekends, not since… not since we blew up at each other after one of her failed dates.

Two weeks without seeing her, too goddamn long.

It’s a bigger turn out this weekend, the elders are here along with more extended family; most of which are huddled close to the fire. Meanwhile majority of the boys are gathered off to the side, grumbling about the latest res gossip like we don’t all share the same wolf brain.

“I can hear you thinking from across the bonfire.” Beer in hand, Sam sidles up next to me.

“I’m tired of thinking, I just want to shut it off.” Sighing, I tuck my chin and try to focus on calming the tremble in my hands from where they’re stuffed in my jacket hoodie.

“Just talk to her.” His quiet encouragement immediately raises my hackles, he doesn’t fucking get it.

“Easy for you to say.” I try to keep the attitude from my tone and fail miserably.

“I know what it’s like-”

Ice pours down my spine. “The fuck you do, Sam.”

“You’re right, I’m sorry-” his tired sigh throws a little bit of water on my anger. “I hate seeing you like this.”

Sam isn’t a man of many words, but somehow those words carry a lot of weight. Weight that makes me feel like an asshole. “Sam-”

“She’s here.”

Two words and my head is snapping towards the parking lot situated close to our spot on the beach so fast that I make myself a little dizzy. I frantically search for her familiar figure while my stomach leaps into my throat before I finally spot her standing near Emily.

My girl, she’s here. My blood feels like it’s thundering through my veins, fuck I missed her.

“You need to go say hi.” I ignore Sam’s unsolicited advice, the last thing she wants is to see my ugly mug.

Not even a second later, her eyes snap to mine and just like that, the tremors I’ve been dealing with all week vanish.

Once again my gravity is back, anchoring me, calming my racing pulse.

“Paul-” scolding me like only an older brother could do.

“Sam.” I turn to look at him, “you sat beside me that night, you know why I can’t.”

“It’s also the same exact reason you should, brother.” His stare turns pleading, but the logic tugs painfully at my heart.

I shake my head and his look turns disappointed, “I can’t go there, not again.”

“Again? Paul, that’s not all that’s meant for you-” he steps closer, conviction ringing in his voice.

“The unthinkable happened and then she came along, you think I should just move on and-”

“Yes-”

“Well I fucking can’t.” I can feel my eyes start to burn. Blinking rapidly, I turn back towards the fire. “I can’t forget what happened, I can’t just ignore what the ancestors did to her-to me-”

“I’m not asking you to forget or anything remotely close to that. None of us have forgotten, you know that. We are all right here with you every step of the way, but brother-” his hand lands on my shoulder, “you can’t ignore what you have right in front of you, what you’ve been blessed with.”

I stop breathing.

I know he’s right.

The ancestors, for some reason, have given me another shot. A second chance.

A second chance that I’m completely fucking terrified to take.

Reader

“Where is he?” I ask Emily as I approach. Fuck It, might as well get to the point.

She grins. “He’s with Sam.”

Scanning through the boys, I look for the duo. The past two weeks have been the longest I’ve gone without Paul since the moment we imprinted over six months ago. My nerves feel like they’re shot to hell and my stomach is lodged firmly in my throat, where is he-

Like a magnet drawn to its counterpart, my eyes land on his and everything is right again. The panicky feeling worming its way into my chest evaporates and I feel like I can take a deep breath again, fuck this man for making me feel this way.

“You should go talk to him.” Emily, always the instigator.

Paul’s gaze turns away from me to Sam and my heart sinks a little, “he doesn’t want to see me.”

“Nonsense, he’s been asking about you nonstop.”

I whip my head towards her so fast, “asking about me?”

She smiles to herself as she tidies up the snack table, “mhmmm.”

I groan to myself, realizing I’ve fallen into her trap and that she’s purposefully torturing me. “Em-”

“Heads up,” she nods behind me and I freeze. “Hello, my love.”

“Hi, beautiful.” The way Sam envelopes her in his arms and kisses her cheeks before planting one on her lips tugs at my heart in the most painful way.

Trying to look literally anywhere else, a large hand cups my elbow.

“Hey.” Paul’s voice is low, unsure.

I glance up with what I know is a sad look, “hey.”

His jaw clenches so tight that I can see the feathering in the muscle, but his gentle grip on my arm never changes. The heat of him slowly leaks into me from the small point of contact, fuck I’ve missed him.

“C’mon, let’s find a seat by the fire before Billy starts.”

“You don’t want to sit with your boys?” Why the fuck did I say that?

“No.” The loaded look he stares me down with offers no room for rebuttal, so I head for an empty bench with the heat of him following closely behind.

Kim’s eyes catch mine as I sit close enough to Paul that our thighs barely touch, her brow raising in a question that I pointedly ignore. Jared next to her gives me that same look and I quickly avert my eyes, everyone in this pack is so goddamn nosy.

Billy Black clears his throat as Sam tosses a few more pieces of wood onto the fire, everyone quieting down at the unspoken command.

The flames steal my attention as the low tenor of the elder’s voice begins the retelling of an old tale I should probably be paying attention to.

It’s soothing - Billy’s voice, the heat of the fire, the cool sand between my toes, the community atmosphere of the pack gathered in one place, Paul’s presence at my side.

It feels like I should belong here.

It feels like home.

Too bad the man next to me is everything I want, but I'm nothing he’s looking for.

Taglist:

@Locokoca @thestarcatcher7297 @idontliketoread2137 @itsmytimetoodream @wonderlandfandomkingdom @callsign-blue @sbrn0905 @callingmrslahote

Part 3 - TBD

[st4r-th0ughts]

Happy birthday, Kakavasha.

masterlist

Aventurine x gn bodyguard reader

series masterlist

recommend to read this

tw/cw: ‘they were roommates that want to make out but are too idiotic to make a move’ ahh, Aventurine has shitty lifestyle habits, this is in the same au as this, the cat cakes are in here and keep jumping both of you, not proofread!

note(s): I should be studying but I love aventurine so it’s ok, tags: @walpurg @rxzennia @sh1-n0bu @honkai-star-thirst (if you want I can add you to a taglist), @briefblazefox (an apology for the angst)

summary: birthdays are a occasion you have never celebrated. But for him, you’ll do anything.

(word count: 1.3k)

ׂ╰┈➤ [𓏵]- your name

The alarm blared you awake as you sit up, your hand fumbling by your bedside for the earring Aventurine had gifted you months ago, before it hits the button on your phone to mute the annoying noise making your hed pound.

Turning the screen to you, the numbers read 7:30 am, a rare timing for you to wake as your usually up and about at 4:00- 4:30am, ready to wake Aventurine at precisely at 6 to start the day.

But, the date reads 5 May. The day of the Kakava, and Sir’s birthday. You know this because he’d mentioned it in passing before, when you were accomapnying him through a mall for his usual shopping sprees, and in a arcade, a birthday party was being held for a young boy.

A girl, perhaps a few years older than him, was standing beside him, cheering him with the boy’s friends while he blew out the candles. You caught a glimpse of Aventurine’s face, how he stares a bit too long at the sibling duo, and how his eyes look fondly at them, and how his smile falters before it cheers up and he looks away again.

You dont know much about Aventurine, in all honesty. You only knew he came from Sigonia, and was possibly one of the last Avgins from his homeplanet, and that was only because late one night, you’d gone back to the IPC’s library to consult the records.

Birthdays were a occasion that was not so revered in Everflame mansion. When you came of age, they were barely acknowleged at all, because such occasions never served your job a purpose.

But when Aventurine first managed to pry that information out of you, your last birthday was him spoiling you 24/7 with lavish gifts and decadent food. Sure, he does it often, but you notice that he’d made the effort to buy you things you want, food you had been dying to taste, unlike the inital gifts where it was more of trying to buy your loyalty.

However, Aventurine is rich. He’s a trillionare, maybe even richer than one, consideirng you watched him spend 3 trillion dollars betting on something against the grey haired trailblazer, while you had a decent income just by being his bodyguard.

Therefore, he is able to buy eveyrthing to your heart’s desire, and by entent, his own. How are you supposed to appease his tatses? All the things you think of buying for him, one, he’d either refund the purchase, or it’s something he has already has or tried before.

The only thing that you can think of, is cooking for him. Aventurine, as extravagent and as expensive his tastebuds are, he has shit eating habits. If he isnt eating out with you or during meetings and events, he practically lives off coffee from the hours he spends in his office, you have to be the one to remind him to eat because at best, he’ll microwave instant noodles or a snadwich. It’s infuriating, because he’s always teasing you for eating badly yourself, yet he doesnt take his own advice.

You wouldnt say you’re great at cooking. Your hands were precise and still, making it easy for things like cracking eggs, and knife skills come in handy when cutting and carving fruits. But other things like perfecting the heat of a pan are not your strong suits. Staring at the recipe page detailing a step by step instruction on how to make pancakes, you stare at the part where they said to seperate the yolks and whites before glancing back at the bowl where you had whisked them both together.

You hope the smell of the failed pancakes that sit on a plate either raw or burnt dont wake up Aventurine. Coupled with his terrible eating habits, he sleeps rather late and gets up early. You’ve never seen him when he just wakes up, but you’ve seen him with dark rims round his eyes, and you’d rather he wake up on his own time. The cats are meowing incessantly at your feet, maybe they’ll serve as his mini alarm clocks with how loud they’re complaining about being hungry.

When 8:15 rolls around, you hear footsteps pattering slugishly down the steps, and a there’s a small smile you quikcly suppress out of instinct. You’re proud of what you have accomplished, a decent breakfast of pancakes, eggs and bacon that you had pulled out from the forgotten asscrack of the freezer. The unsuccessful pancakes are on your own plate, and the coffee is steaming in his mug.

“[𓏵]? What is…?”

Ah. Groggy and disoriented, it’s rare for you to ever see Aventurine not looking like his usual smug self and ready with his witty quips. The cat cakes meow loudly as they leap to his feet, one of them pawing and prancing at his feet while the other two leap on the kitchen counter to try and cling onto the gambler.

You let yourself smile lightly, grabbing the plate and setting it gently in front of Aventurine, pursing your lips as one of the cat cakes decide to paw at your slippers, the other two still seeking attention while Aventurine pets them. His pyjamas are loose, and his neck and part of his chest are exposed. You watch as he snags a strawberry slice into his mouth, watching his eyes open from the sweetness.

“I thought you’d be hungry.”

You mutter awkwardly, cringing internally at the shit conversation starter, sighing as you scratch the back of your neck, your eyes softening as you gaze at Aventurine, who is looking at the food with a suprised look, which doesnt surprise you entirely, you know part of his past, he’d probably never had much of a decent breakfast, much less have anyone make some for him.

“It’s your birthday, you told me back in December when we were shopping.”

Aventurine’s gaze tilts to face you, his stunned expression sticking as his mouth opens in silence. No one has truly knows his birthday, save for a few like Topaz and Ratio, who send him birthday texts and leave gifts on his office desk. But he’s used to having a silent birthday, just buying a small cake and with only the cats to keep him company on the very day where his life went downhill.

“I dont celebrate birthdays often, I… actually dont think I’ve had one myself until you bothered to smother me with gifts and extravagence.”

You sigh, standing awkwardly agsint the counter as you stare at the floor, blinking as one of the cat cakes stare back with big, googly eyes that make it seem like they have absolutely no thoughts in thier eyes, unlike you, because there are thousands of thoughts racing through your mind.

The man cuts off your thoughts as he stands up, walking towards you and wrapping hesitant arms around you, and the warmth of his body, the proximity makes your face heat up, stiffening as your right arm gently wraps around Aventurine, your palm finding his waist as you lock eyes.

“Aventurine-”

“Kakavasha.”

He interupts you, pulling away from the hug while you’re internally dissapointed at the lack of warmth, your eyes making contact as the blond gazes at you with a soft, grateful look as he smiles, a genuine one.

“My name is Kakavasha, [𓏵].”

After a few moments of silence, you nod. The morning light bounces off Kakavasha’s face, making him impossibly handsome in the bright light, his hair is accentuated by the warm shine, your heart races faster as your hand finds his.

“Yes, of course, sir.”

You murmur softly, the cats yowling wildly in thier protest of not being fed, and Kakavasha laughs as one of them pounced on the counter and smushes thier way between you, the other two trying to accompany it.

“Happy birthday, Kakavasha.”

[synthetickitsune]

Merman!Joshua (SVT) | Pearls fluff | 0.9k | gn!reader -> mermay masterlist

You know it’s been a long time since this became more than just business. No matter how much you insist otherwise, no matter how hard you try to lie to yourself. That’s how the story usually goes, right? One day you’re helping each other out, then the next his eyes mirror the curiosity and longing in yours.

It just makes me a little fonder of you than I would be otherwise, Joshua shyly admitted in early stages of the trade. But by then you already became aware that things weren’t the same.

For merfolk, gifting each other shiny trinkets, jewelry especially, is courting behavior. So you could see how him helping you find and collect pearls in exchange for human-made jewelry would mess with his instincts.

It works, though. You’re able to make a living and he gets accessories that don’t look like everyone else’s - at least that’s what he tells you. It’s not like you know any other of his kind. As far as you can tell, they mostly stay away from humans. Not like you blame them. Joshua also took a long time to come around, to trust you. You supposed the circumstances help - it’s you relying on him, you putting yourself at risk and not the other way around.

Joshua in turn makes your work much easier. He leads you to the best spots and keeps you safe. It’s easy to focus on the job when you don’t have to worry about much or even waste time scouting the locations.

Maybe you’ve gotten too cocky.

You wake up and it’s just another sunny day. By the time you arrive at the beach, Joshua is already waiting there and swims up to you when you push off the boat and get into the water. He always circles you first, assessing if you’re okay. His fingers brush against your waist, to be easily written off as teasing tickling if need be.

“Ready? I’ve found a great place yesterday but it’s a little deep,” he warns softly. Not like you’re unused to it, no matter how unhealthy and dangerous it is. So you assure him it’s fine and he helps you get inside the boat and steers it in the right direction. He barely ever lets you paddle, insisting you should save your strength. 

The spot is further than you thought, than he ever took you before. It’s also, indeed, deeper than you usually dive. The merman gives you a worried look that you hope to soothe with a smile. Nothing you haven’t handled before. Just a little added stress that you’re sure won’t be so bad. Joshua wouldn’t let anything happen to you.

It’s all familiar, the discomfort and growing pressure in your ears. You’re used to it. He was right though - it is a great spot. 

The merfolk treasure pearls as much as humans do, they’re just much more patient about helping them grow. The pearls are basically natural with just a little initial intervention. And if through the long years the underwater farmers forget about all their spots, then all you can say is one’s misfortune is another’s opportunity. You always make sure not to take too many. That would be suspicious to the merchants anyway.

With how deep these particular oysters lay, however, you can only manage to inspect one or two per dive. Your lungs just can’t take more. Pointedly ignoring Joshua’s concerned glances, you kick off the ocean floor and swim up for air. 

The world flips upside down.

Your vision goes dark for a second. The world is spinning. You can’t tell up from down, left from right. But you need to breathe. You watch the bubbles rise up but it doesn’t process in your brain. It burns. It hurts. You recognize the face in front of you, however.

It looks strange. Scared, determined. Close. So close. So beautiful. Your hands have a mind of their own when they grab at the figure’s shoulders in desperation. Your feet brush against scales. His nose touches yours. More bubbles come out when your lips brush against each other’s.

Joshua is kissing you. And as he does, he passes oxygen to you. You want to push him away but you’re too weak and disoriented. It wasn’t supposed to happen like this. His hands guide your legs around his waist before safely hugging you closer to his body. He’s shivering. You’ve never felt him shiver before. 

Slowly he swims up with you, stopping every few seconds to kiss you again. To let you breathe even though it feels like you’re even more breathless. Slowly, your mind unclouds. Your vision and thinking clears. His forehead is pressed against yours and his eyes still hold that fear. Vulnerability. Even though he’s the one keeping you alive. 

He helps you into the boat again, gently laying you down before he pulls himself up as well. He’s still shaking. His hands hover awkwardly without touching you. You giggle.

“Thank you,” you smile weakly, “I’m fine. I’m alive.”

“Yeah?” he whispers. He snaps his head towards your hand slowly covering his. When he turns back to look at you, his eyes are wide with shock.

“You don’t have to keep me underwater to kiss me, by the way,” you hope he can’t hear your heartbeat speeding up, “Just a feedback for next time.”

“And here I thought I was making the pressure change gentler on your body,” he jokes but his ears are red. Cute. “I will keep it in mind, though. For next time.”

“Would it be too soon for ‘next time’ now?” you cringe at yourself. But hey, you just escaped death. The adrenaline is yet to go away.

“Not at all,” he purrs. 

It’s pure magic to be fully conscious when his lips meet yours this time. His hands finally settle on your cheek and your waist. He’s even more careful, more tender. 

He smirks when he pulls away.

“My pretty pearl.”

[kasieli]

DamiRae week 2025 | Day one: family matters/secret(*cough* uh….fake?) dating

Well, fiddlesticks. I wrote this whole thing thinking the prompt was FAKE dating and not SECRET dating, but alas…I was very, very wrong. (Do your research, Cass!!!!!!) On the bright side, this also fits family matters, so I’m saved!!!!! Oof a fanart and fanfic for this one, so much content! Anyways, without further ado, let’s start 2025 DamiRae week, shall we? ;)

***

Raven smoothed down her dress for the tenth time and checked her phone. The instructions were clear: "Meet him by the parking lot. Navy suit. Probably scowling."

She sighed, already regretting saying yes to this. One night of pretending to be somebody’s adoring girlfriend for cash—easy, right? No big deal. Smile, hold hands, maybe endure a few awkward questions from nosy relatives. She could handle this. Of course. Probably.

Her eyes scanned around, and then—there he was. Leaning against a lamppost, glowering at his phone like it had personally offended him.

Oh no.

Raven’s stomach dropped straight to her feet.

It was Damian Wayne.

She knew him instantly. Perfectly tousled hair. Impeccable posture. The same furrowed brow she remembered from endless study sessions at the library. He looked a little older now—a little broader, a little rougher around the edges—and somehow ten times worse for her mental stability.

She froze right in her spot.

I’m so fucked.

For one wild second, she considered turning around and pretending she never saw him.

But he glanced up, caught her staring, and she did the only thing she could think of. She smiled—way too wide—and waved.

His eyes widened. And she knew recognition hit him like a brick.

And just like that, Raven realized:

This night is going to be a complete disaster.

Her heels clicked traitorously loud against the asphalt as she crossed the parking lot, every step feeling like it echoed he knows, he knows, he knows.

Okay, just smile. Be normal. You’ve been normal before. Probably. Once.

She tried to ignore the fact that Damian was watching her approach now—straightening up even further, stuffing his phone into his pocket, and standing awkwardly like he wasn’t sure if he was supposed to wave or hug her or just spontaneously combust.

Honestly? Same.

He’s still cute. Why is he still cute? That should be illegal.

And taller. Was he always this tall? Was I just shorter?

Focus, Raven.

She reached him and gave what she hoped was a breezy, natural smile, even though her heart was hammering loud enough she was pretty sure the whole damn parking lot could hear it.

"Hey," she said, forcing her voice to stay light. "You must be Damian."

She knew full well who he was.

Why didn’t she put two and two together? Her roommate had told her his name was Damian—and it wasn’t like she knew many Damians in the wild. Maybe it was because she was strapped for cash, or maybe that she secretly hoped it was this Damian—

No. Then why did the realization hit her like a truck?

Judging by the way his mouth opened, then closed again like a fish, he was just starting to figure it out too.

"Yeah," he said finally. "And... you're..."

He trailed off, staring at her like his brain had blue-screened.

God, why was this already a disaster?

Abort mission. Fake a sprained ankle. Claim amnesia.

Something.

Instead, Raven laughed—nervous and breathy—and stuck out her hand like they were meeting at a corporate retreat and not about to lie to a hundred strangers about being soulmates.

"I'm your fake date," she said, because someone had to keep this train from derailing completely. “Raven.”

"Nice to meet you."

I already know how infuriatingly incredible you smell, and how irritating you were in our Chemistry class, but yeah, sure…

“Nice to meet you, too.”

He cleared his throat, tore his eyes away, then held out his arm, and said, “shall we?”

Raven tucked her hand into the crook of Damian’s arm—because fake couple, appear natural, don’t be weird—and immediately regretted it when she realized just how solid he was under the jacket.

Oh, great. Perfect. Let’s make this harder, why don’t we?

They started walking toward the big stone building where fairy lights twined around the railings and the faint sound of music drifted out.

Damian leaned in slightly, voice low and fast. "Okay, so….quick crash course."

Raven nodded, hyper-aware of how close his mouth was to her ear. Focus. Focus.

"The groom is my brother—Richard. And the bride-to-be is Kori." He took a quick glance at her, as if gauging her reaction. "You'll be able to tell who they are just by looking at them."

White dress. Probably another insanely attractive man. Because I'm not stupid.

"My grandmother is the short one with the purple dress," he said. "She’ll cry when she sees us. Just go with it."

"Got it," Raven said, hoping she sounded more normal than she felt.

"Then there’s my dad—he’ll probably tell you a bunch of embarrassing stories about me. Ignore half of them.” He closed his eyes momentarily as his lips pressed into a thin line. “No, actually, ignore all of them."

Raven smiled, trying to mentally file that away, but her brain was already spinning uselessly because he smells so damn good.

Clean and warm and some kind of stupid cologne that made her want to lean in like an actual crazy person.

"And—uh—my aunt Samantha." Damian grimaced. "If she corners you, fake a bathroom emergency. She will ask about our future children. Plural."

Raven bit the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing.

Children.

Right.

Future.

Focus, Raven.

"Cool, cool," she said, voice a little too high. "Bathroom emergencies. Future kids. Crying grandmother. Totally normal day."

He gave her a quick, sideways glance—the corner of his mouth twitching like he was fighting a smile—and damn it, why was that cute too?

They were almost at the steps now. Voices and laughter were getting louder. A big, happy, chaotic mess waiting to happen.

"Last thing," Damian said, hesitating just before they reached the door. "If anyone asks how we met…say coffee shop."

"Coffee shop. Classic." She gave him a thumbs-up, even though her heart was hammering like a jackrabbit.

He opened the door, holding it for her, and as she stepped inside into a whirl of music, flowers, and chattering strangers, Raven thought:

This is fine. Totally fine.

I am not going to lose my mind fake-dating my college crush at a family wedding.

Nope. Not at all.

The moment they crossed the threshold, it was like stepping into a hurricane. Warmth, chatter, the clink of glasses—and then a woman in a purple dress sprinted toward them with the speed of a much younger person.

"There she is!" the woman cried, flinging her arms wide. "Damian’s girlfriend!"

Raven barely had time to brace herself before she was engulfed in a perfumed, crushing hug.

"Uh—hi!" Raven squeaked, awkwardly patting the woman’s back.

Over the woman’s shoulder, she caught Damian’s face—a tight, panicked little smile that said ‘sorry, you're on your own.’

Fucking coward.

"My baby!" the woman sniffled, pulling back to dab her eyes dramatically. "We thought he'd be alone forever! You are absolutely gorgeous! Are you staying for the whole weekend? You have to stay!"

"Uh—yes—maybe—we’ll see?" Raven said, voice wobbling dangerously. Weekend? The venue was only an hour and a half out of the main city she lived in, did they have a hotel close by?

…Did Damian have a room of his own?

No, Raven. Don’t go there. Focus, goddamnit.

The woman—grandmother, Raven remembered in a flash of terror—grabbed Damian’s hand and their hands together and squeezed, beaming at them like they’d personally cured all her ailments.

Behind her, a whole platoon of relatives was gathering.

Aunts, uncles, cousins—god, so many fucking cousins.

Raven’s stomach dropped to somewhere around her ankles.

Someone was already snapping pictures.

Someone else shouted, "How did you two meet?"

"Coffee shop!" Raven blurted at the exact same time Damian said, "Bookstore!"

A tiny, horrible silence.

Raven felt her soul leave her body.

She shot Damian a glare that obviously read: are you fucking kidding me?!

Thankfully, Damian recovered fast, laughing with a sheepish shrug. "Coffee shop inside a bookstore," he amended. "You know, like those cute ones where you pretend to read but you’re really just people-watching." She hated how effortless his recovery was, and how damned adorable that laugh was.

Focus.

"Ohhhhhh," the grandmother cooed, clutching her chest like they’d just acted out the final scene of a rom-com, which, to her credit, is exactly what it felt like.

Raven laughed, too—too loud, too fake—while mentally screaming.

This is fine. This is fine. I’m not dying inside. I’m not about to faint. Everything. Is. Fine.

Damian’s hand brushed hers, grounding, steady, and she realized he was squeezing gently, like he knew she was two seconds from a full systems shutdown.

She risked a glance up at him.

He was watching her with something almost...soft in his expression.

Oh, no, she thought, as her heart gave a traitorous little skip. I’m so fucking fucked.

Before Raven could even blink, Damian’s grandmother was propelling them across the room toward a small, glittering stage where the soon-to-be newlyweds were surrounded by a mob of admirers.

"Come on, you have to meet Richard!" she said over her shoulder, practically dragging them by sheer willpower.

Raven clutched Damian’s hand like a lifeline—partly for appearances, partly because her legs suddenly felt like they’d been swapped out for uncooked spaghetti.

Up close, Richard looked like he belonged in a magazine catalog—neat hair, crisp tuxedo, easy grin. He spotted Damian immediately and grinned wider, his teeth flashing in a jaw-dropping way that made Raven realize why Damian’s smile had the same effect.

Fucking incredible genetics.

"Damian, you made it!" Richard pulled him into a quick, back-pounding hug. Then his eyes shifted to Raven—and sharpened.

"And you are?" Richard asked, eyebrows lifting just enough to be dangerous.

Raven opened her mouth—but Damian beat her to it, slinging an arm around her shoulders with a casualness that might have fooled everyone else, but she could feel the tension humming under his skin.

"This is Raven," Damian said, casually. "My girlfriend."

Richard’s grin turned downright devilish. "Girlfriend, huh?" He turned back to Damian. "Funny, you never mentioned having a girlfriend."

Raven laughed—a little too high-pitched—and waved awkwardly. "I’m a, uh...recent development."

"Very recent," Damian added quickly. Too quickly.

Richard’s fiancée, a stunning red-headed woman in a shimmering dress, gave a delighted little clap. "Oh, I love that! A whirlwind romance!"

"Exactly," Raven said, nodding so hard she nearly gave herself whiplash. "So whirlwind. There were...brooms involved."

Damian choked on a laugh next to her, coughing into his hand.

Richard just raised an eyebrow, clearly not buying it, but mercifully—thankfully—decided to let it go.

"For what it's worth," Richard said, clapping Damian’s shoulder with mock gravity, "you definitely traded up, man. Way out of your league."

Raven blushed furiously, half from the compliment, half from the way Damian’s hand squeezed her shoulder a little tighter, like he agreed.

Sure, sure. Not like he’s a solid 11/10.

"Yeah," Damian said, voice weirdly soft. "I know."

Raven’s heart stuttered.

Focus, Raven. Focus. Stop falling for him again at a wedding in front of all his relatives. Jesus.

"Now," Richard’s fiancée announced, turning and practically clapping her hands, "we're about to kick off the first dance…and after that, we’re opening the floor!"

She beamed at them. "You two better be the first ones out there after us!"

Raven laughed weakly, praying for an earthquake, a sudden power outage, a freak lightning strike—literally anything to get her out of this.

But the music was already starting.

Raven stood with Damian just off to the side as the music changed, a soft, slow swell of something orchestral and sweet.

The crowd shifted—people making space, murmuring in excitement—as Richard and his fiancée moved onto the center of the dance floor.

Raven clasped her hands together tightly in front of her, feeling a thousand different things at once: relief that she wasn’t immediately being forced to dance, panic that it was coming soon, and an overwhelming, ridiculous fluttering in her chest from simply being next to Damian.

The bride and groom swayed together, laughing at something private, faces close, the rest of the room disappearing around them.

It was...stupidly beautiful.

Raven bit her lip, feeling that weird, achey warmth settle in her ribs.

Next to her, Damian shifted his weight awkwardly, and she could feel his discomfort radiating off him.

Still, when she glanced up at him, he was watching Richard and his fiancée with a strange, unreadable look on his face.

Soft. Almost...wistful.

Raven's chest tightened painfully.

God, he smells so good.

God, he looks so good.

God, I'm so fucked.

She looked away quickly, pretending to smooth the skirt of her dress, trying to shove the stupid, growing feeling down where it belonged: not here, not now.

The song played on, low and tender. A few other couples—the brave ones—were joining in around the edges, but no one dared intrude too closely.

When Raven risked another glance at Damian, he caught her looking.

Their eyes locked.

For half a second, it was like they were the only two people in the whole building. No fake dating. No families. No paycheck waiting at the end of the night.

Just...them. Standing too close. Breathing the same air.

Then Richard’s fiancée gave a little whoop and shouted, "Everyone, join us!"

The spell broke.

The crowd laughed and clapped, and suddenly Damian, bless his soul, was offering her his hand with the slightly crooked, lopsided smile that had made her an idiot back in college—and apparently still had the same effect now.

"Guess that’s our cue," he said.

Raven swallowed hard and took his hand.

I’m doomed, she thought.

I’m absolutely, one hundred percent doomed.

"You ready to make a fool of me?" he said, voice low enough only she could hear.

Raven let out a shaky breath and put her hand in his. Her fingers trembled a little against his palm. She hoped he didn’t notice.

"Always," she said, because it was easier to joke than admit her heart was about to punch its way out of her chest.

Raven let Damian lead her onto the dance floor, weaving through clusters of laughing couples. Her heart hammered so hard she could practically hear it above the soft tune of the ballad.

She tried to focus on the basics: left foot, right foot, don't trip, don't humiliate yourself—but then Damian’s hands found her waist, gentle and solid, and her brain promptly short-circuited.

He was warm. Steady. His touch was careful, almost hesitant, like he was terrified of holding her wrong.

Raven rested her hands on his shoulders—tried to, anyway.

Somewhere in the process, her fingers brushed the back of his neck, and Damian shivered.

Actually shivered.

Oh.

Oh no.

That’s bad.

…Or good?

They started swaying to the slow beat, small steps at first, neither of them really talking, both way too focused on pretending to be normal.

Raven stole a glance up at him.

He wasn’t looking at her—not directly—but his jaw was tight, and his brow was furrowed like he was working through some complicated math problem.

Probably the same one she was: how do you dance with someone you’re supposed to be faking it with when it feels...well…

The music wrapped around them, soft and sweet, and little by little, the space between them shrank.

Not enough for the relatives watching from the sidelines to comment.

But enough that Raven could feel the heat of Damian's chest against hers, the whisper of his breath near her temple.

Enough to make her dizzy.

He smells so fucking good, she thought miserably.

He’s so fucking close.

I’m going to do something so incredibly fucking stupid.

She cleared her throat—desperate to say something, anything—but when she opened her mouth, what came out was:

"You’re a better dancer than I thought you’d be."

Damian’s mouth twitched. "Is that supposed to be a compliment?"

"Take it or leave it," she said, forcing a grin.

He laughed quietly—the sound low and a little rough, like he wasn’t used to doing it—and her heart flipped over in her chest.

"I’ll take it," he said. His voice was different now. Softer. Warmer.

Their eyes met again, and this time neither of them looked away.

The music slowed further, the world narrowing until it was just the two of them. Hands tightening slightly. Breaths catching.

For a heartbeat—one, two, fuck, maybe three—it felt like he was about to lean in. Like maybe, just maybe, he wanted to kiss her.

Raven's heart soared and stuttered all at once. And then—

Damian’s eyes shifted beside her as his lips twitched into what could be described as a pained smile. “Richard is staring,” he whispered, leaning in closer so that his words were almost pressed into her ears. Almost. “Correction: my whole family is staring.”

His arms tightened around her waist as he began to trail one hand softly up her bare back, causing her nerves to explode with a sudden surge of electricity—of course I picked this backless dress, out of all dresses, out of all days.

Raven let out a forced giggle, helplessly trying to thwart the thought of how small and fragile and…safe she felt in his arms. “I mean…that’s good, right?”

He made a considering noise before flatly stating, “run your hands through my hair.”

Raven gawked, trying to mask her surprise and humiliation as if he hadn’t suggested she do something that could literally burn her from the inside out. “Excuse me?” she squealed into the safety of his neck.

He pulled away slightly, just enough that he could meet her gaze. The sparkling string lights above reflected in his eyes and she miserably recalled why she'd deliberately avoided making direct eye contact with him throughout college. Because he had these stunning emerald green eyes with flecks of gold that seemed to capture and magnify every speck of light in the room, transforming them into tiny constellations that threatened to pull her into their orbit. Because he had this sexy scar bisecting his left eyebrow, a thin silver line that told stories of some long-ago recklessness that only made him more intriguing. Because he had these lips that looked. So. Damn. Kissable. Full and slightly curved at the corners, as if perpetually on the verge of a knowing smirk that said he could read every forming inappropriate thought crossing her mind.

His voice dropped even lower, even gruffer—even sexier. “Trust me.”

She might have whimpered at his voice, his suggestion, the way he was looking at her—fuck, at this point she didn’t know, didn’t care—but regardless, she obeyed, lifting one hand to his temple. She cautiously ran her fingers through his hair, brushing a curl away from his ridiculously handsome face. His hair felt exactly as soft as she'd imagined, like satin beneath her touch, and she couldn't resist admiring how it shimmered in the gentle lighting.

His eyes fluttered closed and, maybe he groaned, maybe she was imagining it, but damn, if that wasn’t the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen.

This was a dangerous game.

I’m so so so fucked.

Someone nearby wolf-whistled.

"Get a room!" someone else hollered.

They broke apart instantly, both laughing a little too loudly, stepping back like they’d been caught doing something illegal.

Raven’s face burned hot enough to start fires.

Damian raked a hand through his hair, looking everywhere but at her.

"We’re doing great," he muttered under his breath. "Really selling it." He cleared his throat. “That was great.”

She wasn’t sure if it was the nerves, the music, or the way Damian kept sneaking glances at her like he didn’t want to stop touching her, but right then, in the middle of the dance floor, she realized something terrifying:

What if I'm not faking it?

As if answering her silent prayer, the music faded out, replaced by the soft clink of silverware being unwrapped. Around them, couples broke apart and began drifting toward their assigned tables, where waitstaff in crisp white uniforms glided between chairs with trays of garden salads. The timing couldn't have been better—Raven needed space to breathe, to process whatever was happening between them. She followed Damian through the crowd, hyperaware of his hand resting lightly against the small of her back as he guided them toward their table, where the first course awaited.

Thank god. Time to regroup and calm the spinning, tumbling, tripping thoughts in her mind.

Raven collapsed into her chair at the long banquet table, trying not to visibly hyperventilate. Her heart was still doing Olympic-level gymnastics. Her body still tingled from the soft touch of his fingers against her waist.

Damian sat down next to her, way too casually for someone who had just made her liquid with one simple touch in front of a bunch of strangers.

He picked up a glass of water like nothing happened. Like he hadn’t just held her like she actually meant something to him. Like he hadn’t practically melted her bones.

Raven stabbed her fork into her salad, missing the lettuce entirely and spearing the tablecloth.

Smooth.

She yanked it back quickly, cheeks burning, and focused very hard on pretending to read the menu card in front of her.

Meanwhile, Damian shifted beside her. His knee brushed hers under the table—a tiny touch, probably accidental—and Raven jumped like someone had tasered her.

"You okay?" Damian asked under his breath, leaning toward her.

She could feel his breath on her ear, could smell the faint, ridiculous hint of his aftershave again—clean, woodsy, warm.

Raven nodded, a jerky little bob. "Fine. Totally fine. Why wouldn’t I be fine?"

Damian simply smiled—a small, secretive thing—and settled back into his seat.

As the waiters started bringing out the main course, Raven tried desperately to focus on anything else: the glittering fairy lights above them, the buzz of conversation, the random old uncle arguing about fantasy football three seats down.

But it was impossible.

Because all she could think about was:

1. How Damian's hand was resting on the table inches from hers, fingers loose and inviting.

2. How his pinky kept twitching like he maybe, possibly, wanted to touch her again.

3. How stupidly, unfairly handsome he looked right now—jacket unbuttoned, tie slightly loosened, hair a mess from her fingers spearing through it.

God.

She was so far past fucked it wasn’t even funny.

Halfway through the main course, Damian shifted again and—definitely very deliberately this time—bumped his knee against hers under the table. It didn’t help that the dress slit at her thigh, making it so his knee collided with her very bare, very warm skin.

Raven froze.

When she glanced sideways, he wasn’t even looking at her.

Just smirking a little to himself, like he knew exactly what he was doing.

The worst part?

She wanted to kick him.

And also maybe jump him right there between the bread baskets. Or climb him like a tree.

"Having fun yet?" Damian murmured, still not looking at her.

Raven stabbed another piece of lettuce with unnecessary violence.

"Having the time of my life," she said sweetly. "Thanks for asking."

Damian chuckled—low and soft—and finally, finally looked at her.

His eyes were bright and mischievous and something else too—something warmer, no something much hotter. Scalding, even.

Something that told her that maybe…maybe…he wasn’t faking anymore either.

Then, someone tapped Damian on the shoulder from behind, a strong hand in an ink-black suit. She turned around quickly and looked up…and up.

“Father,” Damian chuckled, pushing himself out of the seat and turning to face his impossibly even taller father. “This is Raven.” He held out a hand to help her up. “My girlfriend.”

Somehow the word held more conviction this time. Perhaps it was because it was his father he was lying to? Perhaps it was because of…

Focus, Raven.

“Nice to meet you, Raven,” Bruce smiled as he shook Raven’s hand with a sturdiest handshake she’d ever received. “I’m Bruce, but I’m sure you know that by now.”

She froze slightly and resisted the urge to throw a sideways glance at Damian for not telling her his father's name. She knew Samantha. Kori. Richard. But his father? That would have been helpful information. What was she supposed to do if she had bumped into him at the bar and he started talking to her? ‘Oh, hello random wealthy-looking man I've never formally met before.’ That would have been absolutely mortifying.

Instead, the only morsel of information she received was that he that might spill some embarrassing stories about the seemingly perfect man beside her. Internally, she snorted. She had to admit it, though, she’d pay good money to hear those stories.

Maybe her thought wasn’t as subtle as she intended, as Damian glanced at her with a challenging look in his eyes.

As if on cue, Bruce opened his mouth with a wide grin, and she felt Damian brace himself beside her, but then someone carrying a large camera cut beside them and took a picture, the click and flash stopping Bruce’s sentence even before it formed.

Damnit. She could have received all that useful information for…research. Or blackmail. Or both.

“Oh, get a picture of just these two lovebirds!” Bruce said, shooting Damian a wink. “It’s not every day this one is seen with a girlfriend.”

“Thanks for the compliment,” Damian muttered under his breath as Bruce ushered them into an area that had a carved marble archway. The delicate stone vines seemed to dance with real roses, their petals catching the warm glow of dozens of dancing candles. Strands of twinkling fairy lights wove through the stonework like captured starlight, creating an ethereal curtain that transformed the simple archway into something out of a fairytale.

It was…magical.

Like straight out of a rom-com magical. What was going to happen now—a fake kiss?

She nearly scoffed at the thought, then, she heard it:

“Kiss for the camera!”

Raven’s stomach dropped straight to her toes. Fuck, I manifested that.

“Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!”

It started small—probably one of Damian’s obnoxious cousins—but it spread like wildfire, picking up volume, until the whole room was chanting.

Raven froze, her eyes snapping to Damian’s.

He looked just as panicked as she felt, one hand still half-extended like he wasn’t sure if he was supposed to run for the exit or drop to one knee.

Oh God.

This is happening.

This is actually happening.

Around them, the crowd was clapping, laughing, jeering like this was the halftime show at a football game and not, you know, her imminent emotional collapse.

Damian gave her a helpless look—the tiniest shrug, a ‘what can you do?’ grimace—and then stepped closer.

"Sorry," he murmured under his breath, voice barely audible over the noise.

Sorry for what, making me humiliate myself in front of your family by fainting right in this spot?

And then he cupped her face with both hands like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Raven’s brain completely shut off. Just—static. Pure, white-noise panic.

He was warm, and steady, and close, and when he dipped his head to kiss her, she froze. Her heart hammered wildly against her ribcage, her breath hitched in her throat. A part of her wanted to bolt—to turn and run as far as her legs would carry her—while another part remained rooted to the spot, terrified and yet inexplicably anticipating, desperately wanting, what was about to happen. Her whole body tingled with nervous energy, and she wondered, absurdly, if she remembered how to kiss at all. And then his lips met hers, and everything around her—the laughter, the clapping, the music—all of it blurred into nothing.

It wasn’t a fake kiss.

It wasn’t a peck-for-show.

It was soft, careful, real.

His lips brushed hers once, tentative—like he was asking permission—and when she didn’t immediately combust or flee the building, he kissed her again. Deeper this time. Slower.

Raven’s hands slid up without thinking, one curling into the front of his jacket, the other through the soft strands of his hair. Holding on.

Damian's thumbs stroked lightly across her cheeks, and he tilted his head just enough to slot their mouths together even more perfectly—and god, it was so much worse than she thought it would be.

Worse because it was perfect.

Because it felt good.

Too good.

His lips were impossibly warm against hers, demanding yet somehow gentle as they moved with practiced confidence. When his tongue traced the seam of her mouth, she opened for him with a small, desperate sound she'd deny making later. Heat bloomed low in her belly as he deepened the kiss, tasting faintly of champagne and something darker, something uniquely him. His fingers slid from her cheeks to tangle in her hair, angling her head back slightly as he continued his thorough, devastating exploration of her mouth. Every nerve ending in her body seemed to catch fire at once, and Raven knew with absolute certainty she was completely, utterly, without-a-doubt fucked.

Her heart was hammering, her body buzzing, and when she finally broke the kiss, it wasn’t because she wanted to.

It was because she had to—lungs burning, head spinning. She was literally about to explode.

A roar of cheers and whistles exploded around them, and she nearly jumped out of her skin. All of her senses—the smell of Damian, the taste of Damian, the feeling of his lips on hers—made her completely forget that they were sharing a kiss for just a fucking picture. In front of literally everyone.

Oh, fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

Did they almost have a full-blown make out session in front of his entire family?

Raven blinked, dazed, as Damian dropped his hands and took an abrupt step back, shoving his own through his hair again like he was physically restraining himself from grabbing her and doing the same damn thing all over again.

"Wow," someone said nearby. "Get married already!"

Raven laughed—breathless and wobbly—and ducked her head, pretending to be bashful so no one could see the absolute chaos happening on her face.

They just witnessed the best fucking kiss I’ve ever had in my entire fucking life.

Damian leaned closer, just barely, so only she could hear:

"See? That...that wasn’t too bad, was it?"

Raven risked a glance up at him.

His cheeks were pink. His eyes were shining. His lips were parted, and slightly tinted by her lip gloss on his perfect fucking lips.

And suddenly, she didn’t feel like laughing anymore.

She felt like kissing him again.

So bad it was almost a physical ache.

I’m so fucking screwed, she thought wildly for the hundredth time all evening.

When they made their way back to the main room, Raven barely made it through the main course without combusting.

Between Damian’s occasional knee taps, the stolen glances, and the lingering awareness of that kiss—that kiss—she felt like she was walking around with an electrified wire running under her skin.

So when Damian leaned in and said, "Come on. You look like you’re about to faint," and tugged gently on her wrist under the table—she didn’t even hesitate.

She followed him out of the crowded hall, through a side door and down a quiet garden path lit by fairy lights and paper lanterns. The night air was cooler, softer, and Raven gulped it in like a drowning woman. Moonlight dappled the cobblestones between the swaying shadows of cypress trees, and the sweet scent of night-blooming jasmine wrapped around them like an invisible mist. In the distance, the muffled sounds of the party drifted out through leaded glass windows, but here, surrounded by the gentle rustle of leaves and the whisper of a fountain somewhere in the darkness, it felt like they'd stepped into another world entirely.

Damian slowed once they were away from the noise, shoving his hands into his pockets, glancing at her sideways.

"You okay?" he asked again, quieter this time.

Raven nodded quickly, wrapping her arms around herself for something to latch onto that wasn't the toned muscles of his chest. "I’m fine. Just—" She blew out a breath. "Your family’s a lot."

He chuckled. "Tell me about it."

They walked a few more steps in easy silence. The sounds of the party continued to fade behind them—laughter and clinking glasses dimming into the background—until it felt like they were the only two people left in the world.

Raven risked a sideways glance. In the soft light, Damian looked…different. Less guarded. More...real.

She was so busy trying not to stare at the cut of his jaw, the way one curl of his hair fell a little into his eyes, that she almost missed what he said next.

"You know," Damian said, voice casual but rough around the edges, "I recognized you."

Raven blinked. "What?"

"From college." He shrugged, kicking a loose stone along the path. "You were friends with Liam, right? You were at that Halloween party sophomore year. The one where the guy set the microwave on fire.” He chuckled, as if recalling a fond memory. “Plus, chemistry study group where you…you…you know…”

Raven's mouth fell open. "You remember that?"

Damian smiled a little—and it wasn’t the fake, charming smile he used for the family. It was smaller. Realer.

"Yeah," he said. "I remember you."

Raven's brain short-circuited all over again. In a full-blown, fight-or-flight panic, her mouth decided to override her survival instincts entirely and blurt out:

"I thought you were cute."

Dead. She was dead.

Absolutely fucked—and not in the way she wanted.

The words just exploded out of her, and there was no taking them back now.

Raven slapped a hand over her mouth like that would somehow rewind time. Damian turned to stare at her, eyebrows raised, clearly fighting a smile.

"You did?" he said, sounding waaaaaaay too pleased with himself.

Raven made a tiny strangled noise in the back of her throat that she'd definitely deny later, too. "I meant—I—like, objectively! Like, 'oh yeah, he's cute'—but like, in a normal way. In a 'everyone thinks that' way. Not a me way. Specifically. Not that I thought about it! Because I didn’t. Obviously. That would be—"

Damian stepped closer.

Raven’s words tripped over themselves and died.

He wasn’t smirking now. Not really. He was just...looking at her. Soft and a little wondering, like she was some kind of puzzle he was starting to understand.

"You still think so?" he asked quietly.

Raven opened her mouth. Closed it. Opened it again.

And then, very bravely, very stupidly, she nodded once.

Damian smiled—a real one this time, wide and a little crooked—and Raven felt her knees threaten to give out.

"Good," he said simply.

And for a second, it felt like maybe he was going to kiss her again. Right there under the fairy lights. For real this time. Maybe more than just a five-second kiss for show.

Raven’s heart soared and plummeted in the same breath.

The night breeze ruffled his dark hair, making it dance across his forehead in a way that seemed almost unfair. Raven couldn't help but stare, drinking in every detail of his face—the sharp line of his jaw, the slight quirk of his lips, the intensity in his eyes that made something deep in her chest constrict painfully. She looked at him like she was trying to memorize him, like she was afraid this moment might slip away if she dared to blink. And then, he simply just reached out, brushing a loose strand of hair behind her ear, fingers barely grazing her cheek.

It was nothing, but somehow…it was everything.

Raven swayed toward him without meaning to, her breath caught somewhere between a laugh and a sigh. Much to her surprise, Damian caught her, both his hands resting on the sides of her arms, so warm, so steady, so…right. Guess she swayed more than she thought she had.

"Come on," Damian said, voice low and impossibly soft. "Before they come looking for us." And then he offered his hand, palm up, like it was the easiest, most natural, most instinctive thing in the world.

Raven stared at it for half a second—at the long fingers, the callused skin—and then placed her hand in his.

His fingers curled around hers, lacing through them in a way that felt like he'd done it a thousand times before—and wouldn't mind doing it a thousand times more.

And for the first time all night, Raven knew neither of them were pretending anymore.

[xximpressions]

Masks of the Masquerade

Anthony Bridgerton x Reader

Summary: After being hidden away for most of your life due to a condition that doesn't even have a name yet, changing circumstances force your family to finally allow you to make your debut.

Word Count: 1,414

A/N: This idea has been on the back burner for a minute now, and it just seems right to finally get started on it as my blog has officially turned 12 years old today 🥳🥳!!! (And it's apparently been a year exactly since I've updated my Bridgerton Masterlist #that'smybad😬😅) So let's celebrate with a new story together :) Can't wait to hear what you think! #HappyBelatedMentalHealthAwarenessMonth!

Bridgerton Masterlist

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Humoured shushes rang out from the three Bridgerton brothers as their carriage scurried up the driveway to their neighbor’s ball.

They reminded themselves to keep their voices low and their laughter muffled until they at least reached their secret, forbidden destination. Given that they were all slightly underage, their out-of-town parents had left strict instructions for them to avoid any evening parties since no one was available to chaperone.

Unfortunately for the Lord and Lady Bridgerton, their three eldest sons could not resist the temptation of attending the highly talked about Masquerade Ball given that all of the necessary pieces seemed to fall into place:

Their parents were on a trip to see some acquaintance or other get married.

Due to the time, the family’s governess had put the younger Bridgerton children to sleep ages ago.

Which meant all they needed to do was arrive with their faces covered by masks after sneaking out, which gave them the additional advantage of having their identities concealed should their parents become curious enough to ask around about who was in attendance tonight.

Of course, to no one’s surprise, the whole thing had been Colin’s idea.

But once he had convinced Benedict they should go, it was easy for them both to gang up against Anthony in order to persuade him to attend as well.

Convinced by the low probability of getting caught, and the glass of brandy one of his brother’s had put in his hand, the eldest Bridgerton son had requested their carriage and they were soon part of the group of many heading to their neighbor’s ballroom.

With Aubrey Hall’s estate bordering their host’s, it struck Anthony as odd that he knew very little about the family whose house he would soon be entering. From what he had gathered, the extravagantly beautiful, but empty estate had recently been let by a peer of good standing, his wife, and their only child — a daughter.

Aside from that, no one knew much else.

The room was already crowded with guests as more poured in, and Anthony supposed, having now entered the lively soiree with his brothers on either side of him, that their host’s elusiveness was the very reason most people showed up tonight.

And while he could understand their natural curiosity, he was only in attendance to watch over his rambunctious siblings more than anything else.

Or at least, that is what he thought he was doing until he took a glance to his left moments after entering the great hall only to see that Colin was no longer standing beside him.

Immediately turning to his right in order to ask Benedict if he had noticed where their younger brother had gone, Anthony was hit with the instant understanding that this whole night had been a set up once he saw the second-eldest Bridgerton had also disappeared without a word.

Letting out an exasperated sigh upon having such a realization, the eldest of the three decided to make his way to the refreshment table in order to enjoy some punch instead of searching out either of his accomplices. 

With a drink in hand, the heir to one of England’s most reputable Viscountcies chose to look around the room in a futile attempt to spot one of his brothers. In not catching so much as a glimpse of either of them amongst all of the masked faces, Anthony annoyedly turned his gaze upwards to ask the heavens above to give him some patience.

But in doing so, Anthony found himself lucky enough to be the only one who seemed to notice the ethereal figure watching the party from the shadows of the halls above. Given the main gathering was confined to their host’s ballroom on the ground floor, he could not help but to wonder what this person was doing up there on the wrap-around balcony that overlooked the entire room.

The lady, whomever she may be, was clearly dressed for the ball with her elegant mask covering her face and matching her outfit, much like his.

However, even from this distance, he could infer from the strange beauty trying to go unnoticed that she watched the festivities with an unfamiliar, but obvious yearning in her countenance.

This made Anthony all the more curious when her observing gaze eventually fell upon him. 

He watched as she seemed to realize someone had caught her in her observations, then hurriedly turned her face from the light in an attempt to conceal herself from his view and disappeared into the shadows above.

At that point, the future Viscount could no longer deny his immense intrigue. Seeking out the staircase that led to the second-level of the ballroom, he cautiously made his way down the dimly lit corridor to where he had last seen the entrancing figure that had unwittingly captured his attention.

Luckily, he knew he was heading in the right direction as his ears had picked up on the sounds of a hushed conversation taking place around the corner from him.

Not wanting to reveal himself before he was sure it was her, Anthony hesitated from making the turn and instead chose to conceal his presence behind the bend in order to listen in on what he was hearing.

“Goodness, Sophie,” You said with a hopeless sigh. “It bewilders me that my father will put all this effort into a party for mere strangers, yet he will not lift a single finger when it comes to my health. Instead, he has simply resigned himself to the belief that he will never have grandchildren because my condition ‘apparently’ renders me ineligible for marriage.”

Unsure of what to make of those opening words, the eldest Bridgerton son quietly pressed his back to the wall behind him and continued his eavesdropping as you let out a huff of frustration while your dearest friend responded to you.

“Oh lovely girl, most Earls would be so very glad to have a daughter as unique as yourself. It is his loss if he does not recognize how fortunate he is.”

It was then that Anthony took a chance to peek around the corner in order to catch the slightest glimpse of you.

You, in all of your finery for the evening, were giving who he presumed to be ‘Sophie’ a grateful smile as you amicably said,

“Thank you, you are a true friend.”

Before laying an appreciative, gloved hand on her shoulder. 

Briefly hiding your expression from her view by glancing towards the party just getting started below, you took a fortifying breath as if steeling yourself against something. Then, after putting on an encouraging air, you turned back to face your kind companion with a convincing smile now on your face.

“Go down to the party, Sophie. I’ll be perfectly fine up here for now. You and I both know you do not have many opportunities for fun, so you should enjoy yourself tonight.”

Your friend seemed to consider your suggestion for a moment, and then apprehensively said,

“Only if you are sure, my Lady?” 

After giving a confident nod, she returned your appreciative smile while bowing and began to make her departure.

It was when you thought no one was watching that you allowed your serene mask to slip into an expression that showed your true feelings of deep sadness. Having to hide yourself away as others had fun simply because your father had commanded it so, was not always an easy burden to bear.

Unwilling to allow the obvious emotions you felt to dwell any longer on your remarkable face, Anthony finally stepped around the corner into view and announced himself by clearing his throat.

You turned to face him with evident surprise at his entrance, and the heir to the Bridgerton viscountcy watched as your eyes widened in recognition at the sight of him (given that you had just seen him standing downstairs across the ball).

Raising his hands in a sign of peace and giving you a moment to show he meant no harm, Anthony began to say with a touch of nervous uncertainty,

“My apologies for disturbing you. Truly! It is just…”

He gave a brief pause as he contemplated how to continue, only to hear the following question come from his mouth. 

“I was wondering if you might like to join me for a dance?”  

And the air around you both seemed to shift into something unexpected as you contemplated your response in return.

TO BE CONTINUED

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[seekers-who-are-lovers]

A woman not to be taken lightly

Written for @flashfictionfridayofficial with the prompt #FFF303 ~ out of the box. Inspired by last night’s 41st episode of “The Apothecary Diaries.” An imagined conversation, a continuity filler. Suirei, Shisui and Maomao in between.

—

Fandom: The Apothecary Diaries

Characters: Suirei, Shisui, mention of Maomao and Jinshi, also Lakan and Shishou

Word count: 787

SUIREI slumped in the corner of the ship, she watched her half sister and the Apothecary Girl huddled together. Suirei was not aware of it, but she looked dangerous. The lantern fire reflected on her blue irises were devilish that were focused solely on the Apothecary Girl.

The ship swayed gently with the moon lighting its way. With Suirei’s left arm dangled to the side while her right was on top of her left knee, she was aware that Maomao paid her small glances, who released an audible sigh that she was keeping for so long. Good thing, the girl was also not prone to seasickness. A small blessing.

So, Maomao, is it all worth it? Is the goddamn resurrection drug worth it following me?

Suirei could only smile inside betraying the lack of expression on her face.

A few minutes later Suirei noticed that Shisui’s head lolled next to Maomao. She didn’t believe it was acting on her sister’s part, god knows, what would happen to them now.

If a high-ranking consort escaped from her post, it would deem as an affront to the emperor. An act of rebellion. But Shisui trained her ladies in waiting well, for all they knew what to do. Besides, they had never been caught. They had people watching their backs.

There was only one miscalculation. The Apothecary Girl was not supposed to be here in the first place. She was on the wrong place at the right time. How curious that her sister found her way to her. Their hands held as their heads were next to each other. They seemed to be very close. To think Maomao used to follow Suiren like a puppy all because she held the key for the immortal drug. It was so easy to lure her. Speak about herbal plants and their medicinal properties and she was scurrying next to you.

A year ago…

“That’s the girl…”

Suirei fiddled with the book she was holding. Shisui stared at her sister then to the person in question. She was dressed up as a servant girl, totally ordinary. Funny thing though that even their own father was not aware of it.

“Well, she’s cute, all right.”

“She’s so smart and, yet, the only thing she talks about is herbal plants and apothecary.”

Shisui laughed at that. Suirei, who was admitted as a court lady, was inconspicuous as Shisui’s present disguise.

“Sounds like you.” Then her face turned serious. “A formidable opponent then. Yes, I heard about her. The Eunuch has marked her as his favourite. She’s doing so many things for him.”

“She followed me one time, cornering me in my own turf, asking me if I have found the correct solution to the immortal drug. One could see how serious she is obtaining it.” She shook her head but it brought a smile to her face.

“Hhmm..” Shisui touched her chin, she had not decided to mingle with Maomao and her friend yet. She was still observing, gauging, committing to their initial plan.

“But we have to be careful. She has powerful backers. For one the Eunuch. Not to mention, the Strategist. Father never likes him at all. The Fox versus the Tanuki.”

“Indeed,” Suirei agreed. “The game has begun. The Eunuch is said to be preparing for the purification.” Her fist clenched at the thought of it. Their father thought that the Eunuch should be out of their way if they wanted to usurp the throne. His closeness to the monarch was a hurdle. Suirei was working in the background while her sister marched her way to the rear palace where the consorts and the concubines stayed.

“Are you sure of this? The physician only experimented with the rats and he.. “

“Don’t jinx it… I changed a few things.”

“Take care of yourself, Sister.” Shisui would protect her older sister with all her might.

Suirei wanted to hold her hand assuring her that it was all right. They had their roles defined for them. If they wanted to avenge their family, her position, no day but today.

~~

Months later, Suirei died. Shisui eased her way to the company of Maomao. The Eunuch was still alive after the attempted assassination all because of the Apothecary Girl.

And now, they met again as the fates ordered them to be. Fully resurrected. Sometimes, one had to think out of the box to reach for the goal. Literally.

Suirei wondered if the Apothecary Girl would finally realise the truth between her and the well-endowed fake servant girl, who was holding her hand at the moment.

The Eunuch and the Strategist were probably losing their minds right now. The corner of her mouth turned up in a lopsided smile.

~tbc~

[danitheforeverdm]

ok so with the reveal that Heinrich comes from the thought of his existence, i really wanna try going through the whole series and seeing if and how this kind of origin could apply to other phenomenon we've seen. Starting with this post, im going to try and go through all the reoccurring monsters and see what we can conclude. Bonzo (my beloved): this one is actually quite easy. He's already ugly as sin and then a guy commited a murder dressed as him. Enough people combined the thought of Bonzo and brutal murder, to create the Bonzo we all know and love. Interestingly this does not explain why Bonzo seems to want to kill the serial killer who created him. Strange.

Ink5oul: This one is a little shaky, cause we kinda got two things going on? First, the Oscar Jarret tattoos. Tattoos that look so real that they are exactly that, real. But then all the other magical effects dont really seem to line up. yes Ink5oul picks up supernatural qualities, being the creator of supernatural tattoos, and i suppose their tattoo process being especially brutal could just come from the fear of pain, but why can they turn any tattoo real? Ink5oul also expresses a desire for mystery, just like Heinrich does. Maybe this middle ground between being unknown and known is what makes reality malleable?

The Magnus Institute: Obviously the truth here is going to be VERY COMPLICATED and will need more reveals to explain, but we'll try with what we have. We have Sam's description of being there, being asked questions he doesnt really understand, and being made to feel like her answers them wrong. Potentially they treated all the kids like this, specifically to gain this association as judges or as *interviewers who can pull information out of you*. The institute using kids is also interesting, seeing as kids perception also seems to play in with Bonzo and Heinrich. Perhaps, as they simply dont understand the interconnection of the world yet, their understanding occupies that middle ground much stronger, like how kids are more inclined to worry Frankenstein is after them, after hearing a story about him. As for the guy doing magic in his office? I have no clue. Notably none of this theory interacts with the alchemy part of this magic system, so we're still pretty far from anything concrete. I will add as a final note, The Archivist is quite a bit more then just a person who gets your info, also being an eye covered monster (this never happened in Arhcives, eye avatars either staying in human shape, or becoming those one eyed things). I think the archivists form isn't just from the interviews, but spending years trapped in a creepy place people like exploring, was further warped by being feared and non-understood.

The Computer System: this is a firm "i have no clue". There is still the x-factor of the alchemy side of things. Alchemy probably being a way to intentionally create the horrors, so maybe that's the computer systems origin. Alternatively, maybe it is just about how programmers hate old systems and see them as endlessly complicated? Maybe that, combined with knowing the horrors exist (due to being in the OIAR), caused the system to mutate? Ironically if the Perception Effect is its origins, Gwen denying its dangerous would actually make it safer. Or maybe not. Part fof me does have a feeling once thought becomes fact, those facts become far more immutable. Also Lena still exists. Her thorough understanding of the system should be holding its shape firm.

from here i cant think of any more. I do think theres actually a lot to this theory maybe. If im straight up right, build me a statue

[elliespassagerprincess]

PLEASE continue ‘her sweet girl’ but make it where Ellie sees the reader with another person and loses it😢

Her Sweet Girl Part 2/2 - ellie williams x reader

Hi anon! I really had so many ideas for part 2, maybe i should make this a series??? I hope you enjoy!!

Pairing: ellie x fem!reader

requests are open! send me your silly thoughts

Warning: toxic relationships

Summary: in which you had enough

masterlist

part 1

Ellie wasn’t looking for you. Not really. She’d said she needed air, mumbled something to Dina, shrugged on her jacket like it didn’t matter. Like you didn’t matter.

But she was lying.

She always ends up where you are, even if it hurts. Maybe especially when it hurts.

She spots you across the street near the stables—laughing. That laugh she used to pull from you with nothing but a dumb smirk and a too-obvious comment. Now it’s aimed at someone else. A girl with soft eyes and hands that brush yours like it’s easy to touch you. Like it’s allowed.

Ellie freezes. Then burns.

You’re smiling. Really smiling. And worse—you’re letting her touch you. Her fingers graze your wrist, and you don’t flinch, don’t yank away, don’t do anything.

Ellie’s jaw tightens. She’s already crossing the street before her mind catches up.

You don’t notice her until she’s close—too close—and suddenly your smile is gone.

The other girl glances up, startled, and Ellie doesn’t even look at her. She’s locked on you like you’re the only oxygen she knows how to breathe.

“What the fuck is this?” she spits, low and sharp.

You stiffen. “Ellie—don’t.”

The other girl opens her mouth, but Ellie finally turns, snarling, “I don’t remember talking to you.”

“Ellie, stop,” you snap, stepping between them.

She laughs—empty and wounded. “Right. Of course. Gotta defend your new girl, huh?”

“She’s not—” you start, but Ellie’s already unraveling.

“Is that all it takes? A few dumb jokes and someone who actually sticks around?” Her voice cracks, and she hates herself for it. "i thought you loved me"

“I did,” you whisper. “I do. But you keep leaving, Ellie. And coming back like I’m just supposed to wait.”

Ellie flinches like you slapped her. “You were supposed to wait,” she says, almost childlike.

Silence chokes the air between you.

“I’m not yours anymore,” you say, and you sound so tired.

But Ellie steps forward anyway, eyes wild and aching. “Yes, you are.”

You shake your head, but she’s already cupping your cheek—roughly, desperately—and her voice is barely above a whisper now.

“Please. Don’t make me watch you with someone else. Don’t—don’t do that to me.”

And it’s there, that Ellie-thing you used to know. The trembling lip. The stubborn tears. The girl who would rather tear the whole world apart than let herself be left behind again.

“Come home with me,” she says.

And you hate her for it. Because you’re going to say yes.

<3