#They are in a bubble safe from everything | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

kiesbrainjuice · 2 days ago

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— HAIKYUU BOYS WHEN THEY WAKE UP NEXT TO YOU ! multiple

➥ pr : multiple x fem!reader

➥ syn : their reaction to waking up next to you.

➥ tw : fluff, none <3

➥ a/n : there there, a lil multiple for ya <3

The soft, early morning light filters gently into the room, casting a golden hue over everything it touches. The first thing he feels is the warmth of your body pressed against his, the heat radiating between the two of you making the cool air of the morning almost nonexistent. His arms are already wrapped around you, your body naturally nestled into his side, and for a moment, he doesn’t want to move—he doesn’t want to acknowledge that the world is waiting outside.

He slowly begins to wake, his eyes fluttering open just a sliver, not quite enough to make full sense of his surroundings. But enough to see you: soft, peaceful, tangled in the sheets beside him, your hair scattered across the pillow, and the steady rise and fall of your chest as you breathe in and out. It’s a sight that feels almost too perfect to be real, and for a second, he wonders if this is what paradise feels like.

The quiet sound of your breathing fills his ears, so soothing that it almost lulls him back to sleep. The urge to just stay here, to lose himself in the comfort of your presence, grows stronger with every passing second. His heart beats a little quicker, a little more tenderly, as he takes in the peaceful serenity of the moment. You look so content, so safe, so completely at home, and the thought that he gets to be the one who shares this space with you sends a rush of warmth through him.

He doesn’t want to wake you. He doesn’t want to ruin this perfect, calm bubble that exists just between the two of you. So, instead, he shifts, ever so gently, his chest tightening as he moves his face closer to yours. His lips brush against your forehead, soft and light, as though he’s trying to imprint the feeling of this moment into his memory forever. The kiss is brief, but meaningful—like a secret shared only between the two of you.

His hand moves automatically, threading through your hair, tucking a loose strand behind your ear, and his thumb softly traces the curve of your cheek as if to memorize the feeling of your skin under his touch. Every little action is a quiet declaration: he wants to be here with you. He wants to stay like this.

But reality calls. There’s practice to get to, responsibilities waiting outside this cocoon of warmth. He knows it. He can feel the weight of it, but the temptation to stay in this space, this private bubble where nothing matters except the two of you, is far too great. So he pulls you a little closer, his arms tightening around you, and closes his eyes again. He pretends to still be asleep, letting the steady rhythm of your breath against his chest lull him back into the haze of half-consciousness.

If he’s lucky, you’ll sleep just a little longer. If he’s lucky, he can stay here with you a little while more, wrapped up in the comfort of your warmth, the peaceful silence, and the simple joy of waking up next to you. For now, the world outside can wait.

USHIJIMA, ARAN, AKAASHI, ASAHI, KITA

He wakes up slowly, blinking against the soft morning light that filters through the curtains. For a moment, he’s still lost in the warmth of the blankets and the comfort of having you right there beside him. His arm is around you, your body tucked close, your head resting on his chest as you sleep soundly. Everything is perfect, so peaceful, and for a few seconds, he just lets himself relax in the moment, breathing in the familiar scent of you.

But then, his eyes flicker down, drawn to something he can’t ignore: the tiny trail of dried drool that’s escaped from the corner of your mouth, glistening faintly in the morning light. He freezes for a moment, unsure if he’s seeing things, but no, it’s definitely there. A little drool puddle, dried and stuck to your chin. It’s adorable in a way that makes his stomach flutter. The sight is so innocent, so human, and honestly, it’s the last thing he expected to see when he looked at you this morning.

He stifles a laugh at first, biting his lip to keep it quiet, but it’s no use. A low chuckle escapes him, followed by another, until he’s laughing freely, a sound that seems far too loud for this early hour. His whole body shakes with the laughter, his chest bouncing lightly beneath your head as you continue to sleep obliviously.

“Look at you,” he whispers, almost to himself, grinning like an idiot. “You’re so cute when you’re all… out of it.”

He reaches up, his fingers hovering near your face for a moment, tempted to gently wipe away the evidence of your dream-induced slip-up. But he doesn’t. Instead, he lets himself laugh again, louder this time, until it’s almost impossible to keep quiet. The sound of it fills the room, too bright and too carefree to be ignored.

The movement shakes you slightly, your breathing catching in a soft, confused sigh. A little groan slips from your lips as you slowly start to stir, your eyes fluttering open. You blink sleepily, still half-lost in the haze of sleep, and your gaze meets his—still smiling, still amused—and that’s when you feel it. The cold, sticky patch on your chin.

Your hand instinctively shoots up to touch your face, and when you feel the dried drool, your cheeks burn with embarrassment. “Did I…?” you start to ask, but before you can finish, he’s laughing again, louder now, unable to hold back the amusement in his voice.

“Yup,” he says, his voice full of teasing affection. “You were out cold. Drooling all over the place.” His grin is wide, almost mischievous, but there’s a softness in his eyes that makes it clear he’s not teasing you to be mean—he just thinks it’s the most endearing thing he’s ever seen.

You’re still half asleep, blinking at him with the kind of dazed confusion that only a morning hangover of sleep can give. His laughter is warm, infectious, and even though you’re mortified, you can’t help but smile at the way he’s looking at you. The playful gleam in his eyes makes it impossible to stay upset.

“Oh my God, are you serious?” you groan, trying to wipe your face with the back of your hand, but it’s no use. You can already tell you’re too late.

“Yeah, I’m serious.” He leans in closer, his eyes twinkling. “It’s honestly kind of cute, though. You’re just too adorable when you’re all zoned out. I mean, look at you.” He chuckles again, brushing a strand of hair out of your face like he can’t resist getting closer.

You groan and hide your face in your pillow, half wanting to bury yourself completely to escape the embarrassment, but at the same time, his laugh makes you feel warm inside. The sound of his joy—his pure, unfiltered amusement—suddenly makes you realize that this moment, awkward as it is, is something special. It’s the kind of goofy, intimate moment that only happens when you’re truly comfortable with someone.

“Don’t laugh at me,” you mumble into the pillow, though it’s clear your voice is fighting off a smile.

“I’m not laughing at you,” he says, his voice softer now, teasing but still affectionate. “I’m laughing with you. You’re just too cute when you’re not paying attention. Honestly, I wish I had a camera.” He lets out another chuckle, but it’s not as loud this time—more like a quiet, lingering smile.

You finally lift your head from the pillow, cheeks flushed but eyes bright, despite the embarrassment. “You’re impossible.”

“Impossible to resist,” he retorts with a wink, his hand now brushing against yours as he gently pulls you closer, pressing a kiss to the top of your head as if to make up for teasing you. It’s a small, sweet gesture that somehow makes everything feel right again.

You can’t help but laugh with him, despite yourself. “You’re lucky you’re cute,” you mutter, before burying your face against his chest to hide the rest of your shy smile.

And as the two of you settle back into each other, the room filled with soft laughter and quiet moments, it becomes clear: even the embarrassing moments are the ones that make waking up next to him unforgettable.

ATSUMU, NISHINOYA, HINATA, KOMORI

The soft light of morning fills the room, gentle and warm, casting a peaceful glow over the two of you. You stir slightly, your body still nestled close to his, the quiet sound of your breath the only noise in the room. The world outside seems far away, like it’s not ready to intrude on the little bubble of warmth you’ve created together.

He wakes up slowly, his gaze falling on you, your face relaxed in sleep, hair spread across the pillow. Your breath is steady, the rise and fall of your chest calming him in a way he can’t quite describe. His heart feels lighter when you’re near, and in this moment, with you wrapped in his arms, the world feels perfectly in place.

For a moment, he just watches you, tracing the soft lines of your face as you remain blissfully unaware. His fingers rest gently on your arm, his thumb absentmindedly brushing over your skin as he smiles to himself, quietly, without making a sound. His chest tightens in the most beautiful way—a mixture of love, tenderness, and admiration he can’t quite put into words.

He can’t help it; he needs to say something. It’s an overwhelming feeling that rises up in his chest, and he has to share it, even if it’s just a whisper, even if it’s just between the two of you.

With a slow, careful motion, he shifts, drawing you closer to him until your head is resting even more firmly against his chest. He lets out a soft breath, his arms tightening around you in the most protective, loving way. His fingers brush through your hair, tucking it behind your ear with a gentleness that speaks to his deep care for you.

“Hey,” he murmurs softly, his voice low and full of warmth. It’s a whisper meant only for you, one that dances between the stillness of the room. “I love waking up like this. With you. So close, so peaceful.” He lets the words hang in the air for a moment, taking in the feeling of having you near. His chest rises and falls slowly, his heartbeat steady against your ear.

He smiles down at you, pressing his lips to your forehead in a soft, lingering kiss. “I adore you,” he whispers, his voice soft but full of so much emotion. “Everything about you. How you make me feel. How you just are.” His words are a quiet promise, the kind that only holds weight in the quiet moments of the morning when nothing else matters but the two of you.

He pauses for a moment, his hand tracing the curve of your jaw as he speaks again, his voice barely above a whisper but carrying all the sincerity in the world. “I never thought I could love someone this much. But here I am, falling deeper every day, every second spent with you.”

His words are like a melody, sweet and soothing, and they sink into your heart in a way that makes you feel entirely adored. You can feel the tenderness in his touch, in the way he holds you close as though he wants to keep you this way forever. Your heart races just a little, not from anything he’s doing, but from how deeply his affection resonates with you.

He presses his cheek gently against the top of your head, his arms wrapped tighter around you now, holding you as though you’re the most precious thing in the world. “I don’t ever want to let you go,” he whispers, his voice thick with the weight of how much you mean to him. “You make everything better. My whole world is brighter because of you.”

You don’t have to say anything; the feeling is mutual. In the warmth of his embrace, you feel safe, loved, and utterly adored. You can’t help but smile softly, nuzzling closer into him, your own fingers trailing up his chest to rest near his heart, as if to tell him you feel the same way.

His lips graze the top of your head again in another sweet, lingering kiss, before he gently whispers one last thing: “You’re everything to me. Don’t ever forget that.”

And in that moment, with the quiet serenity of morning surrounding you both, you feel it—a love so pure and deep, wrapped up in every whisper, every touch, every tender word. You know, without a doubt, that there’s nowhere else you’d rather be than right here, in his arms, as he holds you close to his heart.

DAICHI, KUROO, IWAIZUMI, TERUSHIMA, BOKUTO

The morning sunlight seeps through the curtains, gently bathing the room in a soft, golden glow. The air is warm and still, the quiet of the early hours wrapping around the two of you in a comforting embrace. He stirs awake, still half-dreaming, but immediately notices something strange. Something that feels a little… off.

At first, it’s just a subtle shift—a tightness around his body that he can’t quite place. He blinks, his eyes still hazy with sleep, and that’s when he feels it: your arms and legs are practically entwined around him. Your face is buried in his chest, but your body is draped over him like a sloth attached to its tree—limbs wrapped around him in a way that makes it almost impossible for him to move.

His first instinct is a small, startled breath as he feels the weight of you clinging to him, not entirely expecting it. He’d never really thought of himself as someone who would get trapped in someone else’s sleep embrace, but here he is, caught like a helpless prey. You’re heavy, warm, and—honestly—so close that it’s a little overwhelming. He tries to move, but your grip is like iron. He’s caught, held in place by your limbs as if you were a sleepy, affectionate koala.

“…Uh, okay,” he murmurs, his voice barely audible, his face scrunching in confusion. He shifts just slightly, trying to free his arm, but the more he moves, the more you seem to cling to him. He blinks, unsure whether he should laugh or freak out—this is definitely not how he imagined waking up today.

“Seriously?” he whispers, trying to move again, but your body only tightens in response. You’re out cold, not a care in the world, but for him, this feels like an unspoken challenge. How is he supposed to get up now? How does someone even get out of this?

For a moment, he wonders how long you’ve been like this. Has this been going on all night? He doesn’t even remember falling asleep this way. It’s definitely one of those moments where he realizes that he’s completely at your mercy, and you’re entirely unaware of the hold you have over him.

He lets out a quiet sigh, unsure of whether to laugh or cry, but before he can even fully process it, something happens. You shift in your sleep, a soft groan escaping your lips as you begin to wake. You blink, your eyes fluttering open slowly as the haze of sleep fades.

And then, just like that, the whole situation changes.

As you stretch slightly, your sleepy face turns up to meet his gaze, still disoriented and half-asleep. For a moment, you blink up at him in confusion, like you’re trying to make sense of why your arms and legs seem to have taken on a life of their own.

But then, that sleepy smile forms on your lips, your eyes still a little hazy, and it hits him. You’re so cute when you wake up—just like this, all tangled up and trying to figure out what’s going on. The adorableness of it makes him forget about the discomfort from before, and he feels a warmth spread through his chest, a quiet affection blooming in his heart.

“Morning…” you mumble, your voice still thick with sleep. Your fingers lazily brush his chest as if you’re still trying to make sense of where you are. And then, your eyes widen slightly, realizing how close you’re clinging to him, how wrapped up you’ve gotten around him.

“Oh,” you say softly, blinking up at him with the cutest, sheepish smile. “Sorry… didn’t mean to, uh, trap you.”

His initial awkwardness fades completely, and now, he’s laughing softly, almost shyly, as you still cling to him like a sleepy koala. He looks down at you, the corners of his lips lifting into a soft, affectionate smile. You’re still holding onto him, but it’s not the discomforting sensation it was before—it’s just… cute. It’s just you in your sleepy, adorable way.

“Yeah, you’ve got quite a grip there,” he teases gently, his voice warm with affection. He’s still chuckling, but his tone is more tender now, the smile on his face never quite fading. “You almost had me trapped there for a second.”

You blink, still a little groggy, and then you smile back at him, the kind of smile that makes his heart flutter a little. “I’m really sorry. I don’t know what I was thinking,” you murmur, a small blush creeping across your cheeks as you try to unwind yourself from around him.

He gently places a hand on your back, guiding you a little, but his fingers linger there, warm and reassuring. “It’s okay,” he whispers, leaning down to press a soft kiss to the top of your head, your hair messy from sleep. “I don’t mind. You’re just… too cute to be upset with.”

And just like that, the awkwardness is gone. The tension of trying to break free from your grip melts away, and all he feels now is a soft, tender affection for you. You’re his sleepy little sloth, and somehow, that makes him fall for you even more.

As you finally loosen your grip, and you both settle back into a comfortable position, he smiles to himself, holding you close again. “But next time,” he whispers, his voice low and playful, “maybe don’t try to suffocate me in my sleep, okay?”

You giggle softly, your eyes twinkling with a touch of mischief. “I’ll try,” you say, but you both know you’re still going to cling to him, maybe just a little tighter next time.

And he won’t mind one bit.

SAKUSA, TSUKISHIMA, KENMA, KAGEYAMA, KUNIMI

The soft warmth of the morning light brushes across the room, filling the space with a comforting glow. His eyes flutter open, the remnants of sleep still clinging to him. The first thing he notices is you, peacefully curled up beside him, your face nestled against his chest as you softly breathe in and out. You’re so close, so perfectly close, and for a moment, he just lies there, staring at you, completely still.

His heart swells with a quiet appreciation, an overwhelming feeling of gratitude. He’s always had a sense of pride in the things he’s accomplished, but nothing compares to the humbling reality that you’re here with him. That you chose him. He still doesn’t fully understand how he got so lucky, how someone as incredible as you could love him so completely, but he knows one thing for sure—he never wants to take that for granted.

He lets out a slow, contented breath, his gaze never leaving your peaceful face. Your hair falls in soft waves around your shoulders, and the way you look so effortlessly serene next to him makes his chest ache with affection. In that quiet moment, a deep realization settles in his heart: he is beyond fortunate to be loved by you.

A small, soft smile tugs at the corners of his lips as he carefully shifts, trying not to disturb you. He doesn’t want to leave this moment just yet, but a thought lingers in his mind—you deserve something special today. You’ve shown him so much love, and even the smallest act of appreciation feels like the right thing to do.

Slowly, he lifts his arm from around you, carefully extricating himself from your grasp without waking you. His movements are gentle, deliberate, as if he’s afraid that making any noise might shatter the quiet beauty of the morning. He stands up quietly, careful not to disturb the peace that surrounds you. His feet move across the floor to the kitchen with a quiet purpose, the weight of his appreciation for you still lingering in every step.

The kitchen is warm, and as he starts to gather ingredients for breakfast, a sense of joy settles over him. He’s not the world’s greatest cook, but today, that doesn’t matter. He’s determined to make something just for you, something that shows you how much you mean to him. Eggs, toast, maybe a bit of fruit—nothing extravagant, but everything he prepares is filled with love.

As he cracks the eggs into the pan, he can’t help but smile to himself. The sound of sizzling fills the space, and he takes a deep breath, inhaling the simple, comforting scent. His mind drifts back to moments shared with you: the way you laugh when you’re happy, the way your eyes light up when you talk about something you love, the soft way you cling to him in your sleep. You’ve made his life infinitely brighter, and he knows he’ll do whatever it takes to make sure you feel just as cherished in return.

The food begins to take shape, and he adds the final touches—a little sprinkle of seasoning here, a touch of butter there. He’s focused, making sure everything is just right. He can’t help but feel a sense of pride in this moment, even if it’s something as simple as breakfast. It’s not about the food itself; it’s about the love he’s putting into it.

As he plates the meal, he takes one last look around the kitchen, then heads back to the bedroom with the tray in hand. His heart beats a little faster as he approaches the bed, the tray gently placed in front of you, who is still sound asleep, looking like the most peaceful thing he’s ever seen. He stands there for a moment, watching you, feeling a rush of emotion.

You stir, slowly waking up to the smell of food. Your eyes flutter open, and for a moment, you blink, trying to adjust to the morning light. When your gaze finally lands on him, a sleepy smile tugs at your lips.

“Good morning,” you murmur, your voice soft and warm with sleep. “What’s all this?” You sit up slightly, your eyes widening in pleasant surprise when you see the breakfast he’s made for you.

He smiles, his heart swelling with happiness. “Good morning,” he says, his voice full of affection. “I thought you deserved something special today. You know, just… a little way of showing you how much you mean to me.”

You blink up at him in surprise, the genuine sincerity in his words taking a moment to settle in. His gaze softens, filled with the unspoken truth of how much he loves you. “I’m so lucky to have you,” he adds quietly, his voice tender. “I know I don’t always say it, but I don’t think I’ll ever be able to fully express how much I appreciate you… for everything.”

The quiet sincerity in his words touches something deep inside you. You feel a warmth in your chest that mirrors his, your eyes softening as you meet his gaze. It’s rare, these quiet moments between the two of you—moments where the world slows down, where it’s just you and him, wrapped in the simple, profound bond you share.

You reach out for the tray, the gesture almost instinctive as you try to express your own gratitude in return. “You don’t have to do this,” you say with a soft smile, even as you take a bite of the food he’s so carefully prepared for you. “But thank you, really… this is perfect.”

The moment you take your first bite, his face lights up with a little, sheepish grin. “I wasn’t sure if it would turn out right,” he admits, but the joy in his eyes says everything.

You reach out, gently taking his hand, your fingers intertwining with his. “It’s perfect because it’s from you.”

He leans down, pressing a soft kiss to the top of your head, his lips lingering there for a moment as he pulls you a little closer. “I’ll always do whatever I can to make you feel loved,” he whispers.

And in that moment, everything feels right. The quiet morning, the warmth of the food, and the love between you both—it’s enough to make him feel like the luckiest person alive. Because as long as he has you, he knows there’s nothing he could ever want more.

YAMAGUCHI, OSAMU, SEMI, TANAKA, FUKUNAGA

The soft, golden light of early morning filters into the room, the warmth of the sun spilling gently across the bed. You’re still sound asleep, your chest rising and falling with each peaceful breath. The quiet hum of the morning settles around you both, but your partner isn’t quite as relaxed. In fact, his eyes gleam with a mischievous twinkle, and the glint of an idea forms in his mind—a plan he simply can’t resist.

As you lie there, blissfully unaware of his devious intentions, he reaches for his phone with a quiet grin. The excitement of this “perfect opportunity” is too good to pass up. He knows he won’t get another chance like this, and the thought of embarrassing you later with these precious, unguarded photos is enough to make his heart race with playful anticipation.

With as much stealth as he can muster, he slowly leans over, holding his phone in position. He angles the camera just right, focusing on your face—your hair a mess, strands sticking out in all directions like a bird’s nest, and your features relaxed, still trapped in the haze of sleep. Your mouth is slightly open, a drool stain barely noticeable on your cheek. He bites his lip to stifle his laughter, his finger hovering over the button to take the perfect shot.

Click.

A photo.

You stir slightly in your sleep, but you’re still far too deep in dreamland to notice his evil plotting. He snaps another, just to make sure the first one wasn’t a fluke. There’s something about the chaos of your hair, the cute little snoring noises you make, and the utter disarray of your sleepy form that’s so endearing, it’s almost too much to handle.

Another click.

His smile grows even wider as he moves to get even more shots from different angles. You’re completely unaware of the camera flashing, your face a masterpiece of messy bedhead, and he’s getting the best material for future gaslighting purposes. The thought of teasing you relentlessly later, showing you just how ridiculous you look in the mornings, makes him feel both victorious and a little guilty.

But mostly victorious.

Finally, after what feels like a dozen photos, he decides he’s gotten enough “evidence” for later. With a satisfied grin, he gently sets the phone down beside the bed and leans back against the pillows, content with his devious little game. He knows the storm that’s about to come once you wake up and realize what he’s done.

As if on cue, you start to stir. Your eyes flutter open, blinking against the soft light of the morning as the haze of sleep begins to lift. Your gaze drifts to the side, and you’re greeted by the sight of your phone sitting innocently on the bed next to you, the screen glowing with a picture of—you. Your bedhead. Your drool-stained face. The mess that is your hair.

You groan, a deep, disgruntled sound as your hand instinctively reaches for your phone. “What the heck…” you murmur, still half-asleep. You frown at the screen, your eyes widening as you see what’s been captured.

“Did you seriously—” you begin, sitting up quickly, your messy hair flopping in all directions, as you glare at him with sleepy but fiery eyes. He’s sitting there, trying his hardest to look innocent, but there’s a smug little smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

“What?” he feigns, his voice dripping with feigned innocence. “You look cute.” He chuckles under his breath, clearly enjoying the moment.

You scoff, swiping the phone and checking the gallery. It’s worse than you thought—there are multiple pictures. Multiple. And of course, they all feature the absolute worst moments of your sleepy self. You can feel your face heating up in embarrassment, and before you can even think about it, you whip your head back around, narrowing your eyes at him.

“You… took pictures of me in my sleep?” you ask, your tone half-laughing, half-scolding. “What the hell is wrong with you? I look like a literal disaster!”

He raises his hands in mock surrender, his laughter now spilling out uncontrollably. “What? I had to capture your natural beauty. You’re just too perfect, and I had to preserve the moment.”

Your eyes roll so hard it’s almost comical. “I swear to god, when I get my hands on you…” You lunge forward, grabbing the pillow next to you and swinging it at him with all your might.

He dodges with a laugh, leaning back and holding up his hands as if to protect himself. “Okay, okay! It’s not my fault you’re so photogenic when you sleep!”

You scoff again, but this time you can’t help the smile that tugs at the corners of your lips. The situation is ridiculous, and while you’re annoyed, the sight of him laughing, the playful gleam in his eyes, makes it hard to stay mad at him for long. You know he’s doing it because he loves you, and that, in itself, is both sweet and aggravating at the same time.

“I’m deleting all of these,” you mutter, swiping through the phone to erase the photos he so proudly took. “And if you ever try this again, I’m going to—”

But before you can finish your threat, he’s already launched into action, grabbing your wrist and pulling you back onto the bed, his arms wrapping around you tightly to keep you from grabbing the phone. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” he says between bursts of laughter. “I’ll never take pictures of you again! Promise!”

You’re both tangled in a playful wrestling match on the bed now, his arms tight around you, laughing together as you squirm and try to get the phone back. He’s winning, of course—he always does—but as you both collapse against the pillows, breathless and still chuckling, you can’t help but feel content. This silly, chaotic fight is just one of the many things you love about your relationship.

And even though you swear you’re going to get him back one day, for now, you’re happy just being in this moment with him—ridiculous bedhead, terrible pictures, and all.

OIKAWA, SUNA, SUGAWARA, YAKU, SATORI

The room is still quiet, the soft morning light filtering through the curtains as the world outside begins to stir. The air is warm, and the only sounds are the gentle hum of the house and the peaceful breathing of the two of you. But something isn’t quite right. The bed is empty on one side, and there’s a slight disturbance in the blankets—no longer tangled around you both like they were just moments ago.

You’re still deep in sleep, completely unaware of the shift in the night. But for him? He’s just waking up, groggily blinking his eyes open. The familiar warmth of the bed is gone, and the soft comfort he’s grown so accustomed to next to you is nowhere to be found. Confused, he stretches, reaching for the sheets, but instead of feeling your soft body beside him, he’s met with—nothing.

He blinks again, still not entirely awake, his hand reaching out for any sign of you. And that’s when he feels it. The cold floor beneath him. He groans, realizing he’s lying on his back in a very not comfortable position. His body is stiff, his face already scrunching in disbelief as he starts to take in the situation: he’s on the floor, and not just any floor—your floor.

The realization hits him all at once. You kicked him off the bed.

A flash of memory comes to him from the previous night: a quiet shift in your sleep, the way you had turned and tossed a little before it happened. He remembers the sudden, unprovoked shove of your foot in his side. At first, he thought it was just a fluke, a gentle nudge in your sleep. But that turned into a full-blown push, sending him off the edge of the bed and onto the floor. Mid-sleep.

He lies there for a few moments, contemplating the absurdity of the situation, his brain still half in dreamland. He could’ve sworn he was just fine a few minutes ago. He could’ve sworn the bed was warm and cozy. But no. He’s here, on the floor, in the most undignified position possible. The worst part? You’re still sound asleep, completely unaware of the little disaster you caused in your sleep.

Fighting the urge to laugh (and maybe scream), he finally decides he’s had enough. It’s time to wake you up and let you know what you’ve done to him. But of course, he’s not going to make it easy. He rolls onto his side, groaning dramatically as he slowly drags himself up onto his knees. There’s a smirk on his face now. The playful look in his eyes is already there, ready to stir the pot.

With a deep breath, he stands up and inches closer to the bed, careful not to make a sound. You’re lying there so peacefully, all curled up under the covers, completely oblivious to the chaos you caused. He watches you for a moment, enjoying the softness of your expression, and then with a mischievous grin, he decides to go for it.

He bends down next to the bed and taps you lightly on the shoulder, his voice suddenly low and dramatic. “Hey,” he says, his tone feigning irritation, “did you, by any chance, happen to kick me off the bed last night?”

You stir slightly, a small groan escaping your lips as you begin to wake up. Your eyes slowly flutter open, still bleary from sleep. You blink a few times, the haze of slumber clinging to your senses. And then, you see him. Standing next to the bed, looking at you with mock indignation, arms crossed over his chest.

And then you realize—he’s on the floor.

Your eyes widen slightly, and you squint as you process what’s happening. The confusion fades quickly, replaced with realization—and then the laughter begins. You can’t help it. It’s like a switch flips inside you. The sight of him—your partner, the one who you know to be tough and capable—laying on the floor like an absolute mess, his hair ruffled and his face scrunched in a way that is just too hilarious, makes you lose it.

You sit up in bed, a loud laugh bubbling up from your chest as you clutch your stomach. “Oh my god,” you say between gasps for air, your voice practically cracking from how hard you’re laughing. “I kicked you off the bed?!”

He stands there, trying to maintain his serious expression, but it’s impossible. His face softens, and a little chuckle escapes his lips as he watches you dissolve into giggles. But he’s not done with his act. He crosses his arms, narrowing his eyes. “Yes, you did. And I have the bruises to prove it,” he says, though the effect is completely ruined by the smile that tugs at the corner of his lips.

You only laugh harder, and honestly, he can’t help but laugh too. The way you’re trying to hold it together, your face scrunching up in between laughs, makes everything so much more ridiculous.

You snort between your giggles, wiping a tear from your eye as you hold onto the blanket. “I’m so sorry,” you manage to say, but your laughter doesn’t stop. “I didn’t mean to… I didn’t know I kicked you that hard!”

“You didn’t just kick me,” he says, finally letting his playful act slip. “You launched me off the bed. I was minding my own business, trying to get some good sleep, and boom—suddenly, floor.”

You’re laughing so hard now, you can barely breathe. The absurdity of it all is too much for you to handle. The image of him on the floor, looking all disgruntled and confused, just makes everything so much funnier. You lean over the edge of the bed, your face flushed from laughter, and reach out to tug at his arm playfully. “I can’t believe I did that!” you say, still laughing, though there’s a hint of guilt in your voice. “You’re lucky you didn’t break something, you goofball.”

He rolls his eyes, though he’s still grinning. “Lucky?” he repeats, raising an eyebrow. “I think I deserve compensation for this kind of behavior.”

You look at him, still in a fit of giggles, and then an idea strikes. With a mischievous glint in your eyes, you scoot to the edge of the bed and lean down with a teasing grin. “How about I make it up to you with snuggles and breakfast?” you offer, your voice dripping with sweetness.

He narrows his eyes playfully, considering it for a moment before shrugging. “Fine, I suppose that’s acceptable,” he says, finally giving in. But as he climbs back onto the bed, you can see him trying to suppress his own smile, the last traces of your laughter still lingering in the air between you both.

As you snuggle close, he drapes an arm around you, still shaking his head in disbelief, but the warmth between you both is undeniable. “I’ll get you back for this, you know,” he says with a grin.

“You can try,” you tease, your voice light and carefree.

And as you both lay there together, still smiling, you know this is one of those mornings you’ll both laugh about for years to come—when you kicked him off the bed, and he was the most adorable angry person on the floor.

HOSHIUMI, LEV, GOSHIKI, KOGANEGAWA, DAISHOU

tag : @haechansbbg

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solxamber · 1 day ago

Note

For Valentine's Event🫶🏽 Azul, Romantic [Sleepless by Dutch Melrose]

"Everything leads back to you" || Azul Ashengrotto

𝐅𝐨𝐫 𝐦𝐲 𝐕𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐞'𝐬 𝐄𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐭

𝐒𝐨𝐧𝐠: Sleepless by Dutch Melrose

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 750

𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐬: Pining, Friends to lovers, Azul’s a little possessive

Azul doesn’t know when it started—this pining.

Perhaps it was the first time you smiled at him, eyes crinkling at the corners, laughter bubbling from your lips so effortlessly while he stood there, stunned, trying to figure out how someone like you had walked into his life.

Or maybe it was the first time you defended him. The first time you stood in front of him like a shield, words sharp and unwavering, cutting down anyone who dared mock him.

Or maybe it had always been there, lingering beneath the surface, waiting for the right moment to take hold.

Either way, he knows one thing for certain—everything leads right back to you.

And it's driving him insane.

Every night, Azul lies awake in bed, staring at the ceiling, thoughts running in endless circles.

What if you wake up tomorrow and love someone else?

The thought alone makes his stomach churn.

You aren't his. Not really. You're friends—but not lovers. There’s something between you, something unsaid, something that sits heavy in his chest, making it hard to breathe.

But every time he sees you smile at someone else, every time he watches you throw your head back in laughter at someone else’s joke, every time he watches you slip through his fingers just a little more, his heart screams—

Mine.

And yet, he does nothing.

Because Azul Ashengrotto does not confess first. He does not put his heart on the line without guarantees. He does not chase after things he might lose.

But he wants you.

He wants you so badly that it hurts.

One night, he snaps.

"Azul?" you blink at him, confused as he stands in front of you, hands clenched at his sides, jaw tight. "What's wrong?"

"You tell me." His voice is sharper than intended, but he can’t bring himself to care. "What are we?"

You tilt your head, amused. "Friends?"

The word feels like a slap.

His grip tightens. "Just friends?"

A pause. You study him carefully, a flicker of something unreadable passing through your eyes.

"You tell me."

Azul hates how the words hit him, how they feel like a challenge. He hates how you look at him like that, like you already know the answer, like you’re just waiting for him to say it.

His pride wars with his desperation.

But then you take a step forward, so close that he can see his own reflection in your eyes. Your lips part, as if you’re about to say something—

And it’s over.

He caves.

"I'm Yours."

Your breath hitches. Azul swallows hard, hands trembling as he finally, finally says it.

"I've always been yours. And it’s driving me mad because I don't know if you’re mine."

A heartbeat of silence. His pulse pounds in his ears.

Then, you smile.

"You idiot."

And before he can process it, your lips are on his.

Soft. Warm. Real.

It takes him a second to catch up, to realize what's happening, to understand that this isn't a dream. His hands find your waist, pulling you closer, desperate to keep you there, to keep you from slipping away ever again.

And when you finally pull back, breathless, eyes shining, you whisper, "I've always been yours, too."

And Azul thinks—by some miracle, by some twist of fate, he’s won.

He still has sleepless nights.

Even with you curled up beside him, safe and warm, he still lies awake sometimes, watching you breathe.

His fingers trace the curve of your cheek, the way your lashes flutter slightly in sleep. His heart clenches.

Because even now—especially now—he’s terrified.

What if you wake up tomorrow and realize he's not enough?

What if you wake up and decide you want more—more than what he can give?

Azul has never been someone who trusts easily, and his fears have always been his greatest enemy.

But then you stir.

You blink up at him, sleepy and soft, frowning as you reach for him blindly. "Go to sleep, Azul," you mumble, voice thick with exhaustion. "You're thinking too much again."

Before he can respond, you press a drowsy kiss to his lips, barely a whisper of warmth before you nuzzle into his chest and fall right back asleep.

Azul freezes.

His heart feels too full, too warm, too much—

He exhales.

Closes his eyes.

Holds you just a little tighter.

And as he drifts off, he thinks—

Everything leads right back to you.

Masterlist ; Valentine's Event

#ˋ°•*⁀➷ valentine's event #twst #twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #twisted wonderland #azul x reader #azul ashengrotto x reader #twst azul #azul #azul ashengrotto

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billiesguitar · 1 day ago

Text

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ 𝐁𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐞 𝐄𝐢𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐡

Stalker!billie x innocent!reader || ch.1 ||

warnings - stalking(don't do this plz)

(Billie's pov )

Beautiful.

that's all i could think as i watched her from a distance. she had no idea that i knew every little thing about her, that i studied her every move, her every smile, her every tear. she was so oblivious to the world around her, so lost in her own little bubble, that she never noticed how i was everywhere. to be completely transparent, i don't know what compels me to do this, following her around, taking pictures, obsessing over her, i don't know why i do it, i just do it. it's like some sort of magnetic pull, something inside of me that screams for more of her, something that keeps me coming back for more.

it had been our first week of university, orientation week, where we hung out, met new people, got situated, and whatever else normal people did. i decided to take a... different approach, not by choice, but by necessity. i had noticed her from the moment she stepped into the auditorium for the welcome assembly. she had the kind of aura that drew everyone in, made them question who she was, made them insecure, made them ask her out without knowing her properly. i just sat back and took notes on every little gimmick or bit or habit she had.

her name was y/n. i had followed her from class to class, lurked in the shadows as she went to the library, sat outside her dorm at night as she studied with the light on, and watched her as she slept. i know, it's creepy, but i couldn't help it, i needed her to be safe, needed to make sure she was okay. she was just so... innocent like bambi or something. i had to protect her from all the shit that was out there in the world.

every night i'd go home and write down everything she did, everything she said, every person she talked to, and i'd analyze it all, trying to piece together the puzzle of y/n. i have a whole notebook in my room dedicated to her, filled with pictures and notes and writing. she's 5'0, doesn't drink much out of personal choice, she loves to paint and sing, she likes painting her nails different colors, she loves coffee and shopping and music and has 3 siblings, 2 brothers and a sister. whenever she's nervous she touches her neck or when she's excited she swings on her feet. i know most things about her and she still knows nothing about me.

first day of classes, i decided to take a seat next to her in our english lit class. she had no idea who i was, of course, but she gave me a polite smile as she sat down. i took a deep breath, trying to calm my racing heart. this was it, the closest i had ever been to her. the scent of her perfume filled my nose and i couldn't help but lean in slightly to get a better whiff. she smelled like vanilla and coconut, a heavenly combination that i had never smelled before.

"hi," she said softly, her eyes scanning my face for recognition. "i think i've seen you around. i'm y/n."

"oh," i said, playing it cool, trying not to let my excitement show. "i'm billie. it's nice to meet you."

y/n nodded, her eyes flicking back down to the book in her lap. i studied her from the corner of my eye, noting the way she played with the hem of her shirt as she listened to the professor drone on about the syllabus. she was so focused, so intense, that it was hard not to be captivated by her.

the class eventually ended and she began to pack up her things.

"need help with anything?" i offered, hoping she'd say yes.

"no, i'm good," she replied with a smile. "but thanks for asking."

as we walked out of the classroom together, she turned to me.

"do you know where the art building is?" she asked.

i nodded, "yeah, i can show you."

y/n's eyes lit up with relief and she fell into step beside me. we talked about our majors and hometowns, and i found myself getting lost in the sound of her voice, the way she talked with her hands, the way her eyes sparkled when she talked about painting. it was like nothing else in the world mattered except for her.

when we got to the art building, she thanked me and went inside. i watched her go, feeling a strange mix of happiness and sadness. happiness because i had just had a real conversation with her, and sadness because i knew i had to let her go, for now.

but i couldn't stay away for long.

that night, i found myself outside her dorm again, watching her through the window. she was singing to herself, her voice a soft melody that floated out into the night air. i leaned closer, trying to make out the words, feeling a warmth spread through me as i did so. it was a strange feeling, one i had never felt before.

the next day, i was sitting outside her dorm when she walked out. she looked surprised to see me.

"hi again," i said, smiling.

"hi billie," she said, looking around nervously. "what are you doing here?"

"reading," i lied, trying to seem casual. "what about you?"

"oh, i'm just going to grab some lunch," she said, looking down at her watch, "i've got class in like 10 minutes so i've gotta rush" she added, looking a bit flustered. "see you around."

"see ya," i said, watching her go.

but i couldn't stay away. i followed her to the cafeteria, watching her from a safe distance as she ate with her friends. she laughed at something one of them said, and i felt a pang in my chest. i wanted to be the one making her laugh like that, the one she confided in, the one she leaned on.

as the days turned into weeks, our interactions became more frequent. we'd run into each other in the halls, at the library, and even at the coffee shop on campus. each time, she'd greet me with a smile, and each time i'd fall a little bit more in love with her.

but i knew i had to keep my distance. if she ever found out what i was doing, she'd be terrified of me. so, i contented myself with watching her from afar, taking in every little detail, every little gesture, and storing it away in the back of my mind.

—————

AU Masterlist

#billie eilish #billie ellish lyrics #billie eilish smut #hit me hard and soft #hmhas billie eilish #billie eilish fluff

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xechu · 8 hours ago

Text

The Downfall

cw: 18+ mdni, please read my blog rules before interacting, angst, swearing, Sukuna kinda toxic here

wc: 1K

summary: the argument that leads to your break-up(?) with Sukuna

a/n: part of this au. I think I need to come up with a name for this au now. This happens before the events of 'Warm on a Cold Night'. Thank you for reading. x

Banner credit @cafekitsune

You currently found yourself in a confrontation with your boyfriend. This particular argument was triggered by the events of a few nights ago when you received a call from the hospital at 2:30 AM. The blood drained from your face as dread consumed you; deep down, you had anticipated receiving a call like this eventually, given Sukuna's reckless lifestyle and tendencies. You hate to admit it, but you would have been a fool not to expect him to land in some kind of trouble. Though this was the first—and you desperately hoped to be the last—time you had to pick him up from a hospital, the underlying context of your arguments had always been the same, and this was no exception.

Sukuna's choices and the company he kept had always been the root of your arguments throughout your four-year relationship. When he was on his own, he was manageable—proud, and stubborn, yes, but manageable. However, when he associated himself with the likes of his old college classmates—Shiu, Toji, and Yorozu—it was like an explosion waiting to happen.

You despised how they reveled in his reckless behavior, always spurring on his worst instincts. The ungodly trio (yes, that’s what you secretly called them) reminded you of high school big shots trying desperately to relive their glory days. Of course, Sukuna was the only one of the group who was actually making something of himself, and it broke your heart watching his hard work crumble because of these so-called friends.

When you got the call about the ER visit, something within you finally snapped. It all started when Sukuna mentioned going to the bar with "some friends." It didn't take long into your relationship for you to catch on, whenever he opted not to mention specific names it meant that he was his going to see his college mates, which he knew you had reservations about. You clenched your jaw, anxiety already beginning to swirl within you, but you still managed to force a smile and say, “Alright, Ryo. I hope you have fun, and please, stay safe.”

The altercation unfolded when a man tried to hit on Yorozu. After several attempts to shrug him off, the man finally decided to leave, but Toji and Shiu wanted to take things a notch further, and to take the matter outside. Sukuna initially tried to break up the fight, but the man, adrenaline-fueled and panicked as he perceived himself to be ganged up by three large men, pulled a knife. And of course, it was your boyfriend who ended up injured, while Shiu and Toji—who instigated the whole debacle—was completely unscathed.

“I’m worried for you, Ryo—can’t you understand that?” You struggled to hold back the emotions bubbling inside you.

“I don’t need you to be worried for me, Y/N. You’re making something out of nothing again,” he said, frustration clear in his voice.

“How can you even call them your friends? They could have gotten you killed! And for what? Just because they wanted to feel good about themselves?”

“But I’m fine, aren’t I?” He lifted up his shirt, and gestured to the bandaged wound on his abdomen. As if that was supposed to make everything suddenly alright.

“If you were fine, I wouldn’t have gotten a call that you were in the ER being treated for a stab wound!” You were in utter disbelief at how he could be so nonchalant about it.

“It’s just a minor wound that needed some stitches, that’s it. They made it sound worse than it really was.”

“This is not minor," your brows creased, "I don’t want to get a call one day saying they found your body in a ditch or something! Please, if you cared about me, you’d stop getting yourself into these situations.”

“Why are you always bringing up these what-if scenarios?” He ran a hand through his hair, frustration amping up by the second. “It’s always like this with you. I love you, I really do, but you struggle with internalizing things, and then you make it my problem!”

“What are you trying to say?” You tried to remain calm, though there was an undertone of warning, telling him that he ought to choose his next words carefully—

“That you’re being a pain in the ass!” he snapped. “My life has always been like this, and I’ve been able to get by just fine! You knew who I was before you got together with me. Now it’s suddenly not good enough for you anymore? You just can’t accept it?”

“It’s not like that! You know it's not!" Devastation lacing your voice at the accusation.

“Then I don’t know what the fuck you want from me! You’re always worried or anxious about something when you have no reason to be. I told you I'm fine, you know I can handle myself.”

“I’m only like this because I care about you! Can’t you see they’re tearing you down? Everything you’ve fought for—what good is it if you keep going down this path? If only you could put in an ounce of the respect you have for your work into your personal life, I wouldn’t be so worried all the time!”

“Don’t twist this into my issue! You’re not doing any of this for me; you’re doing it because you can’t get over your own fucking head.”

“Ryo, you don’t mean that...” A pang of hurt struck you. Though he saw the flash of hurt in your eyes, he was too caught up in the heat of the moment to acknowledge it.

“I can't put up with this right now,” he spat, his voice cold. “Don’t come find me.” He grabbed his car keys and stormed out of the apartment, slamming the front door behind him.

You sank into the couch and broke down, uncontrollable sobs wracking your body as your hands covered your face. It seemed that time and time again, he had chosen them over you. Chosen his own way of life over what you had built together. Were you not part of his life? Did you not deserve even a sliver consolation and reassurance? You didn’t know how much more you could take, and this felt like the last straw.

a/n #2: Kind of been in a rut lately with my writing, my creative motor went on vacation. Unfortunately, I don't make the rules - it goes when it goes.

Writing © xechu - please do not redistribute, translate, or repost any of my works.

Banner © @cafekitsune

#jjk fanfic #jjk x reader #sukuna x reader #sukuna x you #sukuna x y/n #ryomen sukuna x reader #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen fanfic #jujutsu kaisen fic #ryomen sukuna x you #ryomen sukuna x y/n

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alittlegiraffe · 12 hours ago

Text

Title: "Wrapped Up In You"

Marshall sat at his usual spot in the studio, headphones perched on his head, a notebook full of scribbled lyrics in front of him. The low hum of the equipment and the steady beat thumping from the speakers were the only sounds filling the room. He was lost in his work, his mind swirling with new ideas, melodies, and lines that seemed to demand his attention.

But then, he felt a gentle tug on his sleeve.

He turned to find you standing beside him, a slight pout on your face, eyes wide and full of longing.

"Hey," he greeted, pushing the headphones down to hang around his neck. "What’s up?"

You didn’t respond with words, just slipped your arms around his waist from behind and pressed yourself into his back, your cheek resting against his shoulder. You were always affectionate, but today it seemed like you couldn’t get close enough to him. The pull of his presence seemed to wrap around you, and you just wanted to be near him—closer than close.

Marshall chuckled softly at your sudden clinginess. He loved it, of course, but sometimes it made it harder to get his work done.

"Someone’s needy today," he teased, a smirk tugging at his lips.

You huffed, tightening your arms around him, almost like you were afraid to let go. "I just want to be with you," you murmured, your voice quiet and soft, a trace of vulnerability in your words.

Marshall’s heart softened at your tone. He turned in his seat, his hand coming up to gently brush a lock of hair from your face. He could tell you weren’t just being clingy for the sake of it—there was something more. You just needed his presence, his comfort.

“Alright, alright,” he said, his smile growing. “Come here.”

Without hesitation, he stood up, pulling you closer as he slid off his hoodie. He didn’t even have to ask—he could tell what you were thinking. The hoodie was big on him, but he knew it would swallow you up, making you feel wrapped in his warmth.

You smiled at him, the smallest glint of gratitude in your eyes, before you let him pull the hoodie over your head. It was almost comical how the oversized garment consumed your figure, but it was exactly what you needed. You settled into the hoodie, the fabric soft and smelling like him—like home. You felt safe, even with the chaos of his studio buzzing around you.

Marshall watched you, amused. "You good now, or should I just lock you in here and call it a day?" he joked, already knowing the answer.

You didn’t respond with words. Instead, you shuffled closer to him, burying your face into his chest as you slid your arms around his waist, content to just be close.

He chuckled again, his hands gently running down your back. "Yeah, I thought so." He could feel the warmth of your presence against him, how you molded into him as though you were both pieces of the same puzzle.

“I’m not gonna be able to get anything done like this, you know,” Marshall said, leaning back against the desk, eyes darting to his notepad.

"I don’t care," you muttered into his chest, your voice muffled. "Just keep me close, Marshall."

He sighed, half-exasperated, half-amused. But he wouldn’t have it any other way. With one last glance at the studio equipment, he decided to give in, letting the work take a backseat to the warmth of your presence.

“Alright,” he said, finally giving in. “We’ll make this work.”

You smiled up at him from the safety of his hoodie, content in your little bubble with him. The world outside didn’t matter, not as long as you were wrapped up in him, in his love, in the comfort of just being together. Marshall, with all of his bravado and confidence, was a man who could handle the weight of the world—and you, wrapped up in his hoodie, were all the comfort and support he needed in return.

As he picked up his pen to jot down some lyrics, you snuggled closer, resting your head against his chest as the steady rhythm of his work filled the air. And in that moment, you knew, despite everything in the world, you were exactly where you were supposed to be.

And so was he.

#eminem #marshall mathers #eminem x reader #marshall mathers x reader

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dreaminginthedeepsouth · 3 days ago

Text

Jesse Duquette

* * * *

The coup rolls on, but we will prevail.

February 2, 2025

Robert B. Hubbell

Although I usually do not publish a Sunday edition, I am making an exception given the emergency facing our democracy. I will focus on the most significant development—Musk’s seizure of the Treasury’s payment system with the blessing of newly confirmed Treasury Secretary Bessent. It took Bessent less than a week to place his loyalty to Trump above his loyalty to the Constitution and, derivatively, to the American people.

Before addressing the hostile takeover of the Treasury, I want to take a moment to repeat comments I made on the Substack livestream event on Saturday morning.

Let’s start with the positive framing of where we are: It is up to us. It always has been, and it always will be. Every generation faces a moment when it is called upon to redeem democracy from an existential threat. We must not bemoan the fact that we are playing our part in the long arc of redemption that has safely delivered us to this point. Our task is to serve as a bridge in the arc to the next generation. If all we do is hold back the forces of darkness, that will be enough. If all we do is endure and outlast the bastards, that will be enough. But I am confident that we can and will do much more.

In our lifetimes, we have overcome the trauma of the Civil Rights battles of the 1950s and 1960s, the political assassinations and campus protests of the 1960s, the Viet Nam war, Nixon and Watergate, the S&L collapses of the 1980s and 1990s, the internet bubble burst in the early 2000s, the terror attacks on 9/11, the Iraq and Afghanistan wars, the Great Recession of 2008, the Covid pandemic, January 6, and more.

We will not only survive this challenge, we will prevail. That is not a close question. The specific path to victory is not yet clear, but Trump is breaking the guardrails of democracy and the fundamentals of the economy so quickly that some unseen calamity of his own creation will overtake his ham-fisted effort to install himself as a supreme dictator in violation of the basic precepts of our great charter.

But . . . despite confidence that we will win, it doesn’t feel great to be in the middle of chaos and uncertainty. In fact, it feels bad. Really bad. If you feel that way, welcome to a club that includes 200 million Americans. You are not alone.

This moment is particularly challenging because of the seeming impotence and cluelessness of Democrats in Congress, in state houses, and governors’ mansions across the nation. It feels like they do not understand the urgency of the situation. If they do, they are failing to communicate that urgency, mount a vigorous opposition, and inspire confidence in Americans yearning for leaders to lead.

We must demand that our elected officials stop acting like this situation is “politics as usual” or that “There is nothing we can do about it because we are in the minority.” Such excuses are unacceptable and unseemly. Elected officials ran for office to be leaders. So, don’t complain that leading is hard when the chips are down. We know that. That is why we elected you. Step it up, now!

Josh Marshall of Talking Points Memo captured the reasons for our discontent in his post on Saturday morning entitled, A Few Thoughts on Messages and Morale.

Josh writes,

The overarching thing that is missing from what Democratic leaders in Washington are saying right now is a clear statement that “This is bad, that it’s likely to get worse for a while. But we don’t accept this; we have power too. We’re going to fight this in the courts; we’re going to gum up the works in Congress; and more than anything we’re going to fight this in the court of public opinion. And we’re going to win. And to do that we need all of you to be on our side. And as we claw back power we’re going to repair the damage and hold the people who broke everything accountable and build something better.”

Josh makes an important point: Despite our anger at our elected leaders for their miserable performance to date, we must support them so that they can lead us to victory.

Marc Elias makes the same point in his post in Democracy Docket, Things We Can All Do to Protect Democracy. The second thing we can do to support democracy is to “Help Democrats.” Marc writes, “Next time you want to attack a Democrat for being too much of this or too little of that, realize that you are only helping the GOP. Instead, find a Democrat you support and volunteer or contribute to their campaign.”

It is okay to be angry at our Democratic officials—in moderation. But they are not the problem. Trump is the problem. So, if you are thinking about how to allocate your emotional energy, devote 99% of it to resisting Trump and 1% to criticizing Democrats—which, to be clear, is a healthy and helpful thing to do.

If you are looking for someone to articulate and channel your outrage at feckless Democrats, I recommend this video by Politics Girl on YouTube, What The F***?! I found Leigh McGowan’s rant cathartic; you might also find some release in hearing her tell Democratic leaders to get off their behinds and start acting like they are in a fight for the future of democracy.

But in the end, we don’t have the luxury of waiting around for elected Democrats to start acting like we are in a five-alarm fire. It is up to us to act now to redeem democracy. It always has been. It always will be. Don’t regret or resent that fact. It is our sacred duty--both as a repayment of our debt to those who brought us to this moment and as an investment in future generations who will carry democracy forward long after our struggles are forgotten.

Musk succeeds in seizing control of the Treasury payment system

When I last wrote, Musk was attempting to seize control of the Treasury payment system. Late Friday, he succeeded in doing so. Treasury Secretary Bessent handed control over to Musk and privateers from Silicon Valley. Musk tweeted on Saturday suggesting that the move was necessary because the Treasury was strictly following the orders to pay the debts and obligations of the US as directed by Congress in budgets enacted as law and as implemented by agencies acting under the watchful eye of the OMB.

In Musk’s fantasy re-telling of the story, that stringent process results in the payment of funds to known fraudsters and terrorist organizations. Musk provided no evidence to support his outlandish claim.

To state the obvious, the role of the Treasury is to pay money as directed by Congress. If there are legal reasons that a congressional appropriation should be stopped, there are two routes: asking Congress to amend its appropriation bill or filing a lawsuit asking the judiciary to enjoin the payment to determine its legality.

But Musk wants to introduce a third way to challenge payments duly authorized by Congress: He gets to decide which payments are not “legitimate”—and then he presses the “delete” button on the computer that Secretary Bessent handed over to Musk.

The illegal, extra-constitutional takeover of the Treasury payment system is explained in detail in this article in the NYTimes (accessible to all): Elon Musk’s Team Now Has Access to Treasury’s Payments System.

I highly recommend reading the entire NYTimes article. You will be shocked. Elon Musk now has unfettered access to private information about your Social Security earnings and benefits, your tax refunds, and your bank accounts into which federal funds are deposited.

Remind me, who elected Elon Musk? When exactly did Trump say during his campaign that Musk would be given access to private data about nearly every American?

While the Times gets high marks for detail in its article, the Times continues to miss the story. The NY Times dutifully reports Musk’s social media claim that he needs access to the payment system to stop fraudulent payments and payments to terrorist groups.

That explanation is so bad it is not even wrong. As noted above, fraudulent payments and payments to terrorist organizations could be handled by the Secretary of the Treasury, Congress, and the courts. We do not need Elon Musk to swoop in to stop those payments—if they even exist.

The obvious story, the huge scandal, the constitutional crisis that is staring the NYTimes in the face is that Musk has seized control of the Treasury payments system so he and Trump can unilaterally enforce the draconian budget cuts to be proposed by DOGE.

Such budget cuts should require congressional approval—unless you control the check-writing function at the Treasury. Once you can “delete” any appropriation by simply refusing to write a check, Congress is an unnecessary appendage, a spectator to a coup.

The plan is transparent to even the most naïve and gullible among us—and should be mincemeat in the hands of seasoned NYTimes’ political reporters. But they do not mention the elephant in the room.

Why?

Because they are afraid. Because they are obeying in advance. Because they do not want to provoke the wrath of Trump.

As always, it is up to us. It always has been, and it always will be. Every generation faces a moment when it is called upon to redeem democracy from an existential threat. We must not bemoan the fact that we are playing our part in the long arc of redemption that has safely delivered us to this point. Our task is to serve as a bridge in the arc to the next generation. If all we do is hold back the forces of darkness, that will be enough. If all we do is endure and outlast the bastards, that will be enough. But I am confident that we can and will do much more.

And yes, I realize the preceding paragraph is repeated from the introduction to this edition. I thought it deserved to be emphasized.

Coda: The Wall Street Journal editorial board’s headline on Trump's tariffs on Canada and Mexico says it all: The Dumbest Trade War in History. (This should be a gift link.)

Concluding Thoughts

Stay strong and maintain perspective. There is no doubt that we will make it through this difficult period--and prevail. Do not collapse the future into the present moment. The future comes at us one day at a time no matter how much we worry. The invariant pace of time gives us space and opportunity to plan, react, and adjust. Find community. Support others in distress. Lead by example, using words only when necessary.

Robert B. Hubbell Newsletter

#Robert B. Hubbell Newsletter #Robert B. Hubbell #coup #Musk #TFG #WSJ #Treasury Payment System #hostile takeover #fascism #Jesse Duquette

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mattsobvimyfav · 4 hours ago

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Y/N has always played it safe—balancing her job as a pediatric nurse, and her careful lifestyle. But one night out with her friend, Jordan, changes everything. When she meets Matt and Chris—two dangerous, enigmatic brothers—she’s drawn into a world she doesn’t belong in. But the more she resists, the harder they pulls her in.

chapter 1

Boston in the early summer has a certain charm—sunlight reflecting off the Charles River, the distant hum of traffic blending with the laughter of people enjoying the warmth after months of bitter cold. It’s home, familiar and comforting.

At twenty-two, I’ve checked off one of the biggest milestones of my life—graduating nursing school. Now, I’m officially a pediatric nurse at one of the best children’s hospitals in the country, something I’ve worked tirelessly for. My days are filled with tiny hands gripping mine, sleepy smiles, and moments of both heartbreak and hope. It’s exhausting, but I love it. Every shift reminds me why I chose this path—to help, to heal, to be there for the little ones who need it most.

When I’m not at the hospital, I spend my time buried in books, or going out shopping with friends, But if I’m not reading, chances are, I’m with the family I’ve worked for since I was eighteen.

The Moore family hired me as their nanny fresh out of high school, and somehow, four years later, I never left. Their two kids—Owen, now five, and Ella, two—have become like little siblings to me. I’ve been there for scraped knees, school projects, and bedtime stories, and even with my busy schedule, I can’t bring myself to give it up entirely. Their parents understand; they know I care too much to walk away completely.

My life is a carefully balanced routine—nursing shifts, nannying, the occasional days with friends, and nights spent curled up watching my favorite show or reading my favorite book. And yet, despite how full my days are, there’s a small part of me that wonders if I’m missing something.

Thursday night was another long one. I worked the second shift from 7 PM to midnight in the respiratory section of the children's hospital, a place where the air always seemed just a little heavier. The unit was full—kids battling asthma flare-ups, pneumonia, and RSV, their small chests rising and falling with labored breaths.

My first patient of the night was a five-year-old girl named Lily, who had been admitted earlier that day with severe asthma. Her mother hovered anxiously by her bedside, asking a million questions as I checked Lily’s oxygen levels and adjusted her nebulizer. I did my best to reassure her, keeping my tone calm and steady. It wasn’t lost on me how terrifying it must be to watch your child struggle to breathe.

After Lily, I moved on to a toddler with RSV, his tiny frame looking even smaller beneath the tangle of tubes and wires. His parents had stepped out for a quick break, so I sat with him for a few minutes, rubbing small circles on his back as he dozed in and out of restless sleep. Moments like these made the exhaustion worth it—being able to offer even the smallest bit of comfort.

The night continued in a blur of vitals checks, medication rounds, and hushed conversations with worried parents. Around 10:30 PM, I grabbed a quick snack from my bag, savoring the brief moment of stillness before heading back into the harsh reality.

By the time midnight rolled around, my feet ached, and my body begged for sleep. But as I clocked out and stepped into the cool Boston air, I felt something else too—gratitude. For the kids who fought so hard, for the parents who loved so fiercely, and for the privilege of being there to help, even in the smallest of ways.

It was now Friday morning, and I can already feel the excitement bubbling up inside me. The week has felt so long, but today is all about taking a break with my friend, Jordan.

I get up, stretch, and head to my closet, trying to figure out what to wear. After a moment of hesitation, I grab my white cardigan. Underneath, I slip on a black cropped tank top that I know goes with pretty much anything. Then, I pick out my favorite khaki mini skirt. I pair everything with my white converse.

I grab my phone, scroll through a few messages, and decide to head out early. The morning air feels nice, so I make my way to the front steps of my apartment and sit down, legs crossed. It’s quiet outside, the kind of peaceful stillness you only get in the morning. I take a deep breath, enjoying the calm.

I’m just scrolling through my phone when I hear the sound of an engine approaching. Looking up, I see Jordan’s bright blue Jeep Wrangler coming down the street, turning the corner as it makes its way straight to me.

I smile as she parks, rolling down the window. "Ready for our girl's day?" she calls out, her grin already spreading across her face.

"Always," I reply, jumping to my feet, grabbing my bag, and heading over to the Jeep.

I hop into the passenger seat of Jordan's Jeep. She pulls away from the curb and grins at me, her hands gripping the wheel.

"So, what’s the plan for today?" I ask, turning to face her.

"First stop for breakfast. Then, I need to make a quick pit stop, then go shopping" she says with a mischievous smile.

I raise an eyebrow. "A pit stop? What are we talking about?"

Jordan just shrugs, her grin widening. "You'll see. But first, we need food. I’m starving."

I laugh, the anticipation building as we head to our favorite café in town. It’s a little spot that serves the best avocado toast and strong coffee, perfect for getting our day started. We pull into the parking lot, and I can already smell the rich aroma of fresh coffee drifting out as we walk in.

The café is quiet, the morning rush already over. We grab a table by the window, and Jordan places our usual order—avocado toast with eggs and two iced lattes. I don’t mind—she always knows exactly what I’ll want. As we wait for our food, we chat about the week, and was in the middle of telling her about my patience last night when I noticed a couple of people at a nearby table glancing over at us.

Jordan notices too and raises an eyebrow. "What’s going on? You seem a little tense today."

I shrug, "I don’t know. Just feels like people stare at us sometimes."

She smirks. "Y/N, we clash pretty hardcore. I mean, look at us."

I roll my eyes, though I know she’s right. I can’t deny it—there’s something about the way I carry myself that screams "basic good girl." and she’s the blueprint definition of grunge.

Jordan nudges me, snapping me out of my thoughts. "Relax. They’re just looking. Let them." We both laugh just as our food arrives.

"Alright," Jordan says as she sips her coffee, "after we eat, I’ve got to make that stop."

After breakfast, we slide back into the Jeep, the warm feeling of a good meal still lingering.

"Get comfortable," she tells me, glancing over with a half-smile. "It’s gonna be a little bit of a drive."

I nod, still curious about the “pit stop” she mentioned earlier. The roads blur by as we drive through neighborhoods I don’t recognize, the buildings getting more worn down as we leave the busier parts of town. Finally, she pulls up in front of a rundown house on the edge of a quiet street. The place looks like it’s seen better days—paint peeling off the siding, the yard overgrown with weeds.

Jordan parks the Jeep and sends a quick text, her fingers flying across her phone. I glance at her, feeling a strange unease settle in my chest.

"Who are we meeting here?" I ask, trying to keep my voice steady.

Jordan looks at me for a second, the serious look returning to her eyes. "Just stay calm. It’s no big deal, I swear."

We wait in silence for a moment before the door to the house creaks open. Two guys, who look nearly identical, step out onto the porch. They’re dressed in baggy sweatpants and wife beaters, they glance to their left and right before walking over.

Jordan rolls down her window as one of them heads straight for her side of the Jeep. The other boy makes his way to my window, giving me a once-over before leaning against the door.

"Hey" Jordan says coolly, and I watch as they exchange a few words. I can’t make out everything they’re saying, but I know it’s about weed. I always knew Jordan smoked but she had never brought me to pick up her supply.

The guy by my window with dark hair and a cocky grin—glances at me, sizing me up. "Who’s this pretty little thing?" he asks, his voice smooth and a little playful.

Before I can respond, Jordan cuts in sharply, her voice low but firm. "No, Matthew. She’s off-limits. She doesn’t belong in your world."

I blink, a little taken aback by the way Jordan says it. The guy, Matthew, chuckles darkly, clearly not bothered by her words.

"Relax, Jordan. It’s just a question," he says, leaning closer to my window.

Jordan gives him a hard look. "No, Matthew. Hands off. She’s not for you."

The other boy who’s been standing by Jordan’s side, smirks. "C’mon, Jord, let us meet the girl," he says, his voice more playful than Matt’s. "What’s the harm?"

Jordan shakes her head firmly. "No, Chris," she says, her tone leaving no room for argument.

I watch the two boys exchange looks, their attention flicking between Jordan and me. I start to put their names to their faces: Matt with the easy grin, and Chris, who seems like he’s having too much fun with this.

Matt suddenly turns his attention back to Jordan. "You hear about that party tonight?"

Jordan sighs, her expression softening. "I’ll be there," she says.

Before I can ask her anything, the deal wraps up, and Matt gives Jordan a nod, Chris handing her something small. The air seems to shift as everything falls back into place.

"Let’s go," Jordan mutters, her foot hitting the gas as the Jeep speeds off.

As we drive away, my mind is buzzing with questions. I glance at Jordan, who’s still focused on the road, I can’t keep quiet anymore.

"Who were those guys?" I ask, trying to keep my voice casual, though I’m definitely curious. "Matt and Chris."

Jordan lets out a small sigh, and I can tell she’s debating whether or not to tell me more. Finally, she speaks up.

"They’re triplets," she says, her tone a little more serious now. "They have another brother who lives out in LA. The three of them—Matt, Chris, and Nick—are big-time dealers. The kind of guys you don’t mess with unless you really know what you're doing."

My eyes widened a bit, the weight of her words sinking in. I always knew Jordan was in the know, but hearing this side of her world feels a little... overwhelming. "Wait, so they’re like legit drug dealers? And you hang out with them?"

Jordan glances over at me. "Yeah, but don’t get the wrong idea. I know them from way back. They’ve always been around, but we keep it casual. I don’t get too deep into their business. I keep my distance."

I nod slowly, "And their brother in LA, is he in the same line of work?"

"Yeah," Jordan confirms with a slight shrug. "That’s just the way they roll. You’ll get used to it."

I don’t know if “used to it” is something I want to get, but I keep my thoughts to myself. My mind drifts to what happened earlier. The way Matt kept eyeing me.

"So, what about tonight?" I ask, my curiosity getting the best of me. "The party Matt mentioned. Are we going?"

Jordan’s hands tighten on the wheel, and I catch a flicker of hesitation in her eyes. "You’ve never asked to go to a party before," she says, almost as if speaking to herself. "It’s always just been my thing. You’ve never really been interested in it."

I raise an eyebrow. "Well, there’s a first time for everything I guess."

My heart beats a little faster at the thought of stepping into that world, but then I catch a spark of excitement in Jordan’s voice. She’s got that fire in her eyes.

"Okay," I say, biting my lip nervously but also feeling the pull of curiosity. "Let’s go get me a new outfit."

Jordan flashes me a grin, her excitement matching mine. "Perf. Let’s go shopping."

A few minutes later, we pull up to a little boutique in the city. It’s not too far from where we were, but it feels worlds away from the rundown house we just left. I follow Jordan inside, the bells above the door jingling as we walk in. The place is packed with clothes—bright colors, edgy designs.

"Alright, pick something that’s revealing and sexy. You’ll wanna fit in.’" Jordan says with a wink. "You need something bold. You can’t show up in the same vibe as that avocado toast and cardigan look."

I laugh at the little stray she threw my way "Okay, okay. Let’s see what you’ve got in mind."

We spend the next hour in the boutique, Jordan practically dragging me from one rack to another, pushing me to try on things I never would have considered before. She pulls out a black corset top that looks a little daring, with intricate lace detailing and a structure that feels way more bold than anything I’d normally wear.

"You’re going for something sexy tonight," Jordan insists, tossing it at me. "Trust me, this will make an impression."

I hold it up to myself in front of the mirror, considering it. "Are you sure this is my style?" I ask, a bit unsure. The corset is tight, the cleavage daring, and the fabric feels both delicate and bold all at once.

"It’s not," she urges, giving me a knowing look. "That’s the point."

I give in and head to the changing room. When I slip into the corset, I’m surprised by how good it actually feels on—tight in all the right places, highlighting my waist in a way I didn’t expect. I step back into the main area, and Jordan’s eyes widen.

"Okay, okay, you look amazing," she says, nodding approvingly. "Now, let's get you some jeans to go with it."

I follow her to the denim section, and after a few minutes, I grab a pair of light-wash, wide-leg jeans. They’re flowy, a little more relaxed than the jeans I usually wear, but they somehow seem like the perfect balance to the corset’s structured look. I hold them up next to the top, and Jordan gives an exaggerated thumbs-up.

"Yes! These are perfect" she says. "This is how you’ll fit in."

I grab them, along with a pair of mini black heels that match the edgy vibe we’re going for. They’re simple but have just enough height to make me feel confident, without being too much.

When I step out of the fitting room in the full outfit, Jordan looks me over, a grin spreading across her face. "Girl, you’re ready. You look hot."

I laugh nervously, standing in front of the mirror. "I don’t even know if I can pull this off... but I kind of love it."

Jordan raises an eyebrow. "You’ve got this. Trust me, I’ll be by your side the whole night."

"Alright," I say, taking a deep breath. "Let’s do this."

After we finish shopping, Jordan insists on stopping by a few other places. We grab lunch, then swing by a beauty store for some makeup essentials.

"Trust me," she says, tossing a tube of mascara into the basket. "We’re going all out tonight."

By the time we’re done, the day has flown by. We’re laughing and chatting about random things, and the excitement I felt earlier is turning into a nervous energy that I can’t quite shake. Every now and then, my mind drifts back to the conversation about Matt and Chris.

When we finally get back to Jordan’s place, she pulls into the driveway with that same determined look she’s had all day. “Alright, babe, it’s time.”

I stare at her, my heart doing a little flip. "Time for what?"

"Time to get ready," she says, hopping out of the Jeep before I can say anything else.

I grab my shopping bags and follow her inside, my pulse picking up pace. Jordan leads me to her room, which is filled with a mix of clothes and half-open drawers. She’s already pulling out a few items, and I can’t help but laugh nervously.

The next few hours feel like a whirlwind. Jordan’s apartment is a crazy mess as we rush to get ready.

“Okay, sit down,” she orders, motioning to the chair in front of her vanity. I do as I’m told, watching her rummage through a drawer filled with makeup products. “Let’s make sure you look amazing tonight,” she says with a grin.

I glance at my reflection in the mirror, still not quite used to the corset top and the wide-leg jeans. The outfit is bold, daring, but I can’t help feeling like I’m playing dress-up in someone else’s clothes. Still, Jordan seems so confident in it, and I trust her.

She starts with my face, prepping my skin with some kind of serum and moisturizer she swears by. I close my eyes and let her work her magic, her hands light but sure as she applies the base, blending everything seamlessly. My skin already looks smoother, more even than it usually does.

“You’re gonna love the foundation I got for you,” she says, swiping a brush across my cheeks. “It’s got this glow to it—makes your skin look like it’s glowing from within.” She finishes with a dusting of powder, setting everything in place.

I watch as she moves to my eyes. “We’re going for sultry, babe. Just big huge lashes,” she says, applying a thick coat of mascara, making my lashes look long and voluminous.

“Open your eyes,” she says with a smirk as she steps back to admire her work. I glance in the mirror and can’t believe how much my eyes pop just from mascara.

Jordan then turns her attention to my lips. She picks up a pink lip liner, carefully lining the edges before putting on a pink tinted lip gloss

I smile nervously. I’m not used to this kind of attention. My usual look is… nothing. I’ve never done lip gloss or anything like this before. But tonight, I feel like someone else.

“Now for your hair,” Jordan says, pulling me from my thoughts. She grabs a curling iron, giving me a teasing grin as she begins to curl my hair in loose waves. The heat feels strange against my hair, but the result is incredible—full, bouncy curls that make my hair look effortlessly voluminous. She finishes with a little hairspray, just enough to hold everything in place without it looking stiff.

By the time she’s done, I’m sitting there, staring at my reflection in awe. The outfit, the makeup, the hair—it’s like I’m looking at a completely different version of myself. The girl in the mirror looks confident, daring, ready to take on whatever comes her way.

Jordan steps back, inspecting me one last time. “You look incredible, Y/N. Trust me, no one’s going to be able to take their eyes off you tonight.”

I swallow, my heart racing. “Are Matt and Chris going to be there?” I ask, almost hesitantly.

“Absolutely,” she says, giving me a wink. “and you're absolutely staying away from them.” She finished with a straight face.

I giggle at her firmness. Jordan grabs her own outfit, pulling on a leather jacket and running a hand through her hair as she heads for the door. “Alright, You ready?”

I cheer a little, feeling the rush of nervous excitement flood over me. “Yes, yes, yes.”

Jordan’s Jeep rumbles down a dark road, the streetlights becoming fewer and farther between. The neighborhood looks eerily similar to the one we were in earlier today—rundown houses, cracked sidewalks, I shift in my seat, glancing at Jordan, but she looks completely unfazed, focused on the road ahead.

When we finally pull up in front of a house, my stomach twists. It’s a large, old place with chipping paint and music blasting from inside. There are people lingering on the front porch, passing around drinks and cigarettes, their laughter mixing with the heavy bass of whatever song is playing.

Jordan throws the Jeep in park and turns to me. “Alright, listen,” she says, her voice firm. “Stick with me, have fun, but stay away from Matt and Chris. Got it?”

I roll my eyes, unable to hide my curiosity. “Yeah, yeah, I got it.”

She gives me a knowing look before hopping out of the car. I follow, as we make our way up the front steps and through the open door.

Inside, the air is thick with smoke, the scent of weed and something else I can’t place. The place is packed, people spilling into every room, music vibrating through the floors. Jordan walks in like she owns the place, immediately getting daps and side-hugs from a few guys as we move through the crowd.

“Jordy!” A girl with long, dark braids grins and pulls Jordan into a hug. “I didn’t know if I’d see you tonight.”

Jordan smirks. “Had to make an appearance. Thought I’d bring my girl Y/N with me.” She pulls me forward slightly, and I suddenly feel all eyes on me.

The girl gives me a once-over and smirks. “Cute. You don't really look like you belong here, though.”

Jordan just chuckles. “Last I checked, you're not the one who makes the calls around here, thanks for your opinion though!”

I laugh nervously, as the girl looks me up and down again before scoffing and walking away. Jordan hands me a red solo cup filled with something that smells strong. “Drink up,” she says with a wink. “It’ll help you loosen up.”

I take a sip and wince at the burn, but I don’t complain. The warmth spreads through me almost instantly, and suddenly, the party doesn’t feel as overwhelming. Jordan keeps introducing me to people—some friendly, some giving me lingering looks that make me shift uncomfortably. But with each sip of my drink, I relax a little more.

An hour or so passes in a blur of music, dancing, and conversation. At some point, Jordan disappears into a crowd of people near the stairs, leaving me standing alone in the living room. My cup is empty, and the warmth in my chest is starting to fade, so I decided to get another.

Making my way to the kitchen, I squeeze past groups of people talking and laughing. The kitchen is slightly less crowded, but it’s still buzzing with energy. I grab a bottle of some kind of alcohol, about to pour myself another drink when a deep voice cuts through the noise.

“Didn’t take you for the kind of girl to be here.”

I freeze for a second before turning my head.

Matt.

He’s leaning against the counter, watching me with an amused smirk. His eyes flicker over my outfit, lingering just a little too long on the corset before meeting my gaze again. He’s effortlessly put together—black jeans, a fitted long-sleeve shirt, and that same dangerous charm radiating off him like a magnet.

I clear my throat, trying to keep my cool. “I didn’t take you for the kind of guy who lurks in kitchens.”

Matt chuckles, stepping closer. “I don’t. I was actually looking for a drink, but now I think I found something more interesting.”

I roll my eyes, but my stomach flips. “Smooth.”

He grins. “I try.” His body close enough that I can smell his cologne—something dark and expensive. “So, tell me, Y/N, what’s a girl like you doing in a place like this?”

I lift a brow. “You say that like I don’t belong here.”

“Because you don’t.” His voice is low, almost teasing. “You’re different.”

“Different how?” I ask, genuinely curious.

Matt’s eyes flicker to my lips before back up to my eyes. “Too sweet. Too… innocent.” His lips twitch like he finds it amusing. “It’s refreshing.”

I swallow, suddenly feeling like I need another drink. “Maybe.”

Matt chuckles again, shaking his head. “Oh, trust me, sweetheart, you are.” His voice drops slightly, the edge of danger in his tone making my pulse quicken. “That’s why Jordan warned me to stay away from you.”

I blink. “She did?”

“Oh yeah.” He smirks. “Made it very clear. Told me you're too good for me.” He leans in slightly, his voice just above a whisper. “And maybe she’s right.”

I should probably listen to Jordan. Every instinct in me says Matt is the kind of guy I should stay away from. But the way he’s looking at me, the way his presence pulls me in like gravity—I don’t move.

Before I can even think of a response to Matt, another voice interrupts.

“Finally,” the voice drawls. “We get to meet you without Jordan shutting it down.”

I turn my head to see Chris sauntering toward us, looking just as sharp as Matt but with a slightly more mischievous smirk. His eyes flick between me and his brother before settling on me.

“How about you come sit with us? Let us get to know you,” Chris suggests, motioning toward a worn-out couch in the corner of the room.

Before I can answer, Matt’s hand is already at my waist, guiding me toward the couch. My heart pounds as we move through the crowd, Chris leading the way, Matt’s presence heavy beside me.

As soon as we reach the couch, I start to sit down, but Matt subtly steers me to the middle, settling me between him and Chris. The warmth of their bodies on either side of me is immediate, a stark contrast to the slight chill in the air. Matt drapes his arm lazily over the back of the couch, fingertips just barely grazing my shoulder, while Chris stretches out comfortably, his knee nearly touching mine.

Chris grins. “Let’s play a little game. Twenty questions.”

Matt chuckles, his voice low. “You up for it, sweetheart?”

I glance between the two brothers, fully aware of how much trouble I might be walking into. But something about Matt’s quiet intensity and Chris’ playful attitude makes it impossible to pull away.

“Fine,” I say, trying to sound more confident than I feel. “I’m game.”

Chris smirks. “Alright, I’ll start. First question—where are you from?”

“Just outside the city,” I reply, relaxing just a little.

Matt hums. “Explains why you seem so… untouched.”

I roll my eyes, but my cheeks burn. “Next question.”

Chris leans forward, resting his arm on his knee. “Biggest fear?”

I hesitate. “Losing all of my teeth.”

Matt’s fingers tighten slightly against the couch cushion behind me. “Interesting.”

Chris raises a brow. “What’s your guilty pleasure?”

I bite my lip, thinking. “Old romance novels.”

Chris groans. “Lame.”

Matt, however, smirks. “Nah, that tracks. You seem like the type who loves the idea of some brooding, dangerous guy sweeping you off your feet.”

I don’t respond. The look in his eyes tells me he already knows the answer.

Chris continues. “What’s the craziest thing you’ve ever done?”

I hesitate before admitting, “Probably this. Sitting between two guys I barely know at a party I wasn’t even supposed to be at.”

Matt’s arm shifts, his fingers brushing against my shoulder. His voice is laced with amusement as he murmurs, “Damn, sweetheart. That’s your craziest thing? We’ll have to change that.”

Chris smirks. “Alright, let’s up this. Next question—what’s your biggest turn-on?”

My breath catches in my throat. My instinct is to play it safe, but the heat from Matt’s gaze and the mischief in Chris’ expression make me feel bold.

“Confidence,” I say, tilting my head slightly. “But not arrogance.”

Chris raises an eyebrow. “So you like guys who know what they want?”

“Yeah,” I admit. “But not the ones who feel like they need to prove something.”

Matt hums, his fingers tracing slow, lazy circles against the fabric of the couch beside me. “Good answer.”

Chris leans in slightly, his grin widening. “What’s your biggest fantasy?”

I keep eye contact with him, watching as his expression darkens slightly with intrigue. My cheeks warm.

“That’s a little personal, don’t you think?” I tease, trying to deflect.

Chris laughs. “That’s the point, babe. You’re the one who agreed to play.”

I bite my lip, contemplating. The heat in the room, the tension in Matt’s touch, the look in Chris’ eyes—it makes me want to say something I normally wouldn’t.

I take a slow sip from my drink, gathering my courage before answering, “I guess I like the idea of someone being completely in control of my body.”

Matt’s fingers tighten slightly behind me, his breath hitching just a little.

Chris whistles. “Damn. You might be more fun than I thought.”

Matt finally speaks, his voice low and edged with something I can’t quite place. “Careful what you admit around us, sweetheart.”

I arch a brow, feigning innocence. “Why’s that?”

Matt smirks, his arm brushing against my back as he leans in, his lips barely grazing my ear.

“Because we don’t play fair.”

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