#just not feeling like trying to find them

[mintyvoid]

yeah but at that point you shouldn't be with that person. That shows a lack of needs being met by person B, if person A has to always initiate conversations/change/action and person B does nothing to improve themselves and the overall relationship.

If the relation is something that cannot be terminated, like you rely on them for income/home (like a family one for example), you either need to figure out how to get out of it. Or practice radical acceptance, as its something you cannot change.

like obviously there is nuance and specific situations where this would be hard to apply. But in general, you shouldn't be with someone who doesn't meet your needs- specially if it effects your mental health. It sucks, specially if you think they're the one or you simply really love/like/cherish them. But it should never be at the cost of yourself.

I hate that thing some people do where it's like. "I left my wallet on the table to see if you'd say anything" or "I wanted to see if you'd wash the car if I stopped doing it"

Cause like

I dont know about anyone else

But I am perpetually hovering three inches above the strong subconscious belief that everyone knows what they're doing at all times except me, so if you change your normal patterns and I notice, then I will assume it is an intentional choice with a thought-out plan behind it and I will avoid interfering

And if I don't notice, because I won't, because why would I, because not much bothers me and if you don't say anything to indicate you are bothered then how would I KNOW

[buckysouvenir]

breaking the ice “You don’t have to treat me gently, Bucky” when bucky doesn’t know what sex is like in the 2000s, you volunteer to try his fantasies. warning: 18+ content

Bucky’s shoulders are tense.

Not the ready-for-a-fight kind. Not even the post-mission-comedown kind. It’s something else. He’s been quiet since they got back, barely picking at his food. Just drinking his beer, eyes flicking to you every so often.

“You ever think you’re broken in ways that people don’t even have names for?” Bucky asks, voice low, not looking at you.

Y/N blinks slowly, registering the shift in the air. That wasn’t small talk. That was him — the real him — poking through the layers he usually hides behind sarcasm, behind folded arms and gritted teeth.

“Yeah,” you say. “All the time.”

He lets out a breath that sounds like a laugh but isn't. “It’s not the violence. That I can handle. That makes sense to me. But... the other stuff?” His jaw tightens. “The intimacy stuff? I don’t know how to do it anymore. I feel like I’m standing outside something I used to understand.” His voice is low. Rough.

Then you ask, evenly: “Do you want to do something about it?”

His gaze snaps to yours — startled. “What?”

“Just… make it about you. What you want.”

He stares at your like you just said something dangerous. “I don’t even know what I want.”

“You could find out,” you simply say. “With me.”

There’s a pause. Tension, thick and electric.

He studies your face — you mouth, you eyes, like he's scanning for a trap. But all he finds is calm.

“You don’t have to treat me gently, Bucky,” you add, softer.

His fingers twitch against his thigh. “Don’t say that unless you mean it.”

“I mean it.”

Silence. Thick. Charged.

He doesn’t kiss you at first. He just looks at you — eyes dark, jaw clenched, like he’s fighting something in himself.

Then, without a word, he grabs your face with one hand and crashes your mouths together. It’s not gentle. It’s messy, unpracticed, needy.

His hands grip your jaw, then your throat — not tight, but enough that you feel the intent. Your fingers slide into his hair, tugging, and that’s when he growls — low and deep in his chest.

“On the couch,” he mutters. “Turn around.”

You obeys without hesitation, crawling forward until you’re on your knees, braced against the backrest. He’s behind you in seconds, breath hot at your neck, hands moving over your body like he can’t decide where to start — your hips, your thighs, your pussy.

“Tell me to stop,” he says, voice tight. “Now. Or I’m not going to.”

“I won’t.”

Your shirt is yanked over your head. Bra undone. He leans forward, teeth grazing your shoulder as he unbuttons your jeans, dragging them down slowly — not to tease you, but because he’s still trying to hold on to the edge of his control.

“You want me to use you?” he mutters against your skin. “To figure out what I like?”

“Yes,” you mumble. “Do whatever you want.”

He exhales like a man starved — one hand fisting in your hair, the other slipping between your thighs. His fingers explore first — rough, deliberate — making you gasp and arch against him. When he finds the right spot, he circles—once, twice—then presses harder.

Y/N bites down on a whimper, pushing back into him, and Bucky groans at the feel of you, at the way you move for him without hesitation. He leans in close, lips at your ear now, voice ragged.

“Like that?”

You nod. “Fuck,” you mumble, barely breathing. “Yes. Don’t stop.”

“I wasn’t planning to,” he mutters.

He keeps going, fingers working you over with a rough rhythm that borders on desperate. His other hand stays tangled in your hair, keeping you exactly where he wants—on your knees, bent forward, completely exposed. The tension rolling off him is thick, dangerous, like he’s right on the edge of losing the careful grip he’s been holding for far too long.

A harsh exhale leaves him, followed by the sharp sound of his belt coming undone.

You hear the zipper. Feel the shift behind you as he pushes down his jeans. His hand disappears from between your legs for just a second—long enough to line himself up—then he’s gripping your hip and pushing in, slow but unforgiving.

Y/N gasps, both hands clawing at the backrest for leverage.

He pauses only when he’s buried to the hilt, jaw clenched like he’s in pain.

“Fuck,” he mutters. “You feel—God. I could lose my mind in you.”

“Do it,” you say, breathless. “It’s just me.”

That’s all he needs.

He pulls back and thrusts again, harder, more certain. There’s no rhythm at first—just raw, unchecked need, his body slamming into yours with bruising force. The couch shifts under the both of your, soft grunts and gasps filling the space.

He’s not talking anymore. He’s focused—consumed. Every time you moan, he answers with another thrust, another growl, another pull of your hips against him like he can’t get deep enough.

When he pulls your leg wider, changing the angle, you sees stars. His dick, long and thick, hitting that one spot in your walls. Your head falls forward, and his lips starts bleeding from the strength he is using to bite his own lip. He’s unraveling, and you’re letting him.

The sound of skin slapping skin is loud in the quiet room. Your knuckles turn white where you grips the cushions.

One of his hands slips under you again—between your thighs—and he finds that spot like he’s searching for it with purpose now. His fingers rub in tight, relentless circles while he keeps moving inside you, and the combination is almost too much.

“Bucky—” you gasp, voice cracking.

“Close?” His voice is sharp, demanding.

You nod wildly. “Yes, yes—don’t stop—”

He doesn’t. He keeps his pace brutal and focused, metal fingers now wrapped around your throat from behind, keeping you steady while his other hand pushes you over the edge.

You shatter with a cry—hips jerking, muscles clenching around him so hard it nearly undoes him right there. You barely have time to come down before he groans sharply, slamming into you one final time and staying there, buried deep as he follows you into the abyss.

The both of you stay like that for a long moment—sweaty, shaking, breath caught in the thick air.

Eventually, he pulls back, hands trembling as he helps you turn and collapse onto the cushions, yourchest rising and falling fast.

He doesn’t speak right away. Just stares at you like he can’t believe what just happened. Like he doesn’t know what the hell to do with the quiet afterward.

“I didn’t hurt you?” he asks, voice small now.

You smile — wrecked, satisfied, warm. “Only in the best way.”

[elieenaliak]

Thinking about Caleb taking care of his girl - mc/ fem!reader - so much, that he won’t put up with her spending any of her hard-earned money

After shutting your door for you, Caleb walks around the front of the car into the drivers seat, shuffling with the seatbelt as he turns the key in the ignition.

You hum to yourself in the meantime and find your lipstick in your bag—your new lipstick, a little more luxe this time, just the right shade to compliment your skin, a treat for yourself after finishing up a project at work. Just a little gift you deserved. You flip down the sun visor and open the mirror, making a pretty o with your lips to carefully apply it, stifling a smile when you feel Caleb watching.

“Where’s that from, baby?” he asks, a hand smoothing up your back.

“Hm?”

“The—uh…” His hand lifts, fingers hesitating near his lips as his eyes linger on yours. “The lipstick. That’s… new?”

You smile, the corners of your mouth tilting up. "Yeah. Just tried it now." You wrap your arms around his bicep for a quick, soft squeeze, then reach up to cradle his face, pecking his cheek - leaving soft pink mark behind. "You like it?"

He nods, almost absently, like he’s still trying to find the right words. Then, softer—surer: “Yeah. It’s… pretty.” A small pause. “Looks good on you.”

But his smile falters, and it has you pouting.

“What?”

“Nothing…” He shrugs. “Just don’t remember buying it. You used my card, right?”

You shake your head. “No, I bought it myself. It wasn’t expensive, honey, I promise.” Half true, at the very least.

“Yeah?” He blinks, then gently shifts back just enough to reach into his coat pocket, fishing out the wad of cash that’s accumulated there. “How much was it, baby? I’ll pay you back.”

“Caleb, I didn’t ask you to do that.”

“Yeah, well, I’m doing it anyway.” He counts out one, two, three twenties—

“Caleb, put that away—”

He looks up at you, raises his brows, dishes out a fourth and a fifth. “What?” He doesn’t hesitate for a second, folding the bills in half before leaning over the console to slip them into your purse. As he does, he presses a quick kiss to your cheek—light and teasing, knowing exactly what it’ll do. He grins, just a little, watching the way your attention drifts. One hand rests casually on the wheel—strong, veined, just enough to make you pause—and the other gently holds your jaw, guiding you toward him. He kisses you again, this time softly at the corner of your mouth, careful not to mess up the lipstick. “Use my card next time, yeah? Doesn’t matter what it’s for.”

You frown. “But I feel bad . . . I make my own money, you know.”

“You’re not supposed to spend your money, baby, you’re supposed to spend mine.”

He lifts your chin with two fingers—gentle, but sure—guiding your gaze back to him when you try to look away. His eyes search yours, steady and soft.

“Let me take care of you, sweetheart.” He presses a kiss to your lips—slow and certain, like a promise. “That’s what I’m here for.”

And honestly… when he says it like that, it’s hard to do anything but let him.

[mothofmyth]

DC x DP

The Justice League summons the ghost king.

Unfortunately, the safest way JLD can find requires a host body to contain the being.

Obviously Superman, Wonder Woman, and Flash are out - who knows what this being would do with a super-powered body. They have no idea how Captain Marvel or Green Lantern type magic would interact with the summoning, so not them either. They need Constantine and Zatanna to perform the ritual.

Basically it's down to the bats.

Batman tries to volunteer - better him than one of his kids if anything were to go wrong.

That gets vetoed. As do a lot of his offspring. The safest options (ie the least contaminated by magic, lazarus water, time shenanigans, and everything else) are Red Robin, Spoiler, and Nightwing.

Nightwing pulls rank.

After a lot of arguing, everyone at least agrees to tolerate the arrangement.

Nightwing removes every possible weapon from himself, allows himself to be tied to a chair in the middle of a summoning circle, and waits for JL Dark to complete the ritual.

It's not long before he feels a surge of cold burning through him.

He expected to be unconscious while the Ghost King took over. That's what Zatanna said had been reported the last time this ritual was performed many years ago.

They had all expected a lot of things.

Pariah Dark was supposed to be terrifying to behold - a massive, cruel, FURIOUS dictator who turned to violence at the smallest sleight.

This was... definitely not that.

Dick was present. He had no control over his body, but he could see and hear in an almost dream-like state. Foggy and indistinct, maybe a little warped, but definitely present.

He felt his heart rate and breathing pick up in panic even though he felt mostly calm (or at least no more anxious than he had been, waiting for an angry deity to possess his body and all). It was a strange sensation.

He felt the vibrations of his own voice as it left his throat, high and confused.

"Wha... Where..." It asked, warbling and afraid.

He felt his eyes blink and his limbs struggle against the bindings.

His head tilted down without his say so, and he looked at his own body as if through rippling water, warped lenses.

"I'm not..." His voice came out, still confused. Still afraid.

"Your Majesty?" Zatanna asked from beyond the limits of the circle.

His head whipped up, and he felt his neck click at the abrupt motion.

His breathing picked up again. Dick felt the ghost (pun not intended) of anxiety, like it was leaking from the other consciousness inhabiting his body.

"We mean you no harm. Our associate has agreed to lend you his body for the duration of this meeting." She continued.

Dick felt the king's anxiety again, stronger this time. Other emotions too, guilt, sorrow, anger, and a strange sort of pressing-tugging sensation.

Suddenly, Dick was back in control. He could still feel the king's consciousness, stronger now than before, but he could also move and speak freely.

"What just happened?" He mumbled, speaking to the ghost, not the audience of heroes.

"Nightwing?" Someone called from outside the circle, but he ignored them for the moment, feeling instead the consciousness inhabiting his body push back fear, guilt, and apology.

"Yeah, it's me. He's still in here, though." Dick frowned, trying to figure out how to interact with the being.

He heard a voice in the back of his mind. It sounded like him. It sounded different. It was younger than him. It was small and afraid. It was neutral and quiet and him. But it wasn't. It was speaking. It was silent. It was emotions and thoughts and nothing.

"Oooookay, this is really weird. I think we're communicating. I don't know how to talk back, but if he's in the same situation I was a minute ago he should be able to hear us just fine. Is that right?" Nightwing tried.

The 'voice' (he figured he'd call it a voice for now. He wasn't sure what else he could call it) responded in the affirmative. Like a hand outstretched, flipping up and down in a 'kinda' type of gesture. Like a nod and a hesitant smile. The feeling of victory by default.

Dick beamed.

"Okay yeah he can hear us." He announced for the benefit of their audience. "Why didn't you stay where you could speak? Wouldn't that have been easier?" He looked at his own chest, as if he could somehow find a way to see the presence inside of him.

Disgust. Guilt. Fear. An unexpected step at the bottom of a staircase. Falling off a pier into tempestuous water. A stranger pinning your hands above your head.

"Oh." Dick breathed. "Thank you, but I can handle it."

Guilt. Guilt. GUILT.

"Okay. It's alright. You can speak through me or we can manage like this." He soothed.

"Nightwing, report." Batman demanded.

"Uhh, right. I think he's trying to be courteous? To me, I mean. From what I can gather, he doesn't want to possess me or take over. He seems pretty repulsed by the idea, to be honest. I think he can see and hear and generally experience everything I'm experiencing, he's just more passenger than driver? I can feel him, and he's communicating, he just can't speak through me without taking my autonomy again, and he really doesn't want to do that." Dick explained, looking at the various states of thinly-veiled bewilderment across the faces of the heroes.

"Ask him if he's Pariah Dark, High King of the Infinite Realms, Ancient of Rage and Destructio-" Constantine begins, before Dick cuts him off

"I just said he can hear everything we're saying. Ask him yourself."

Constantine huffs. "You heard me, mate. Are you him?"

Denial. Contemplation. A battle. Single combat. A crown made of black thorns and green flames. A throne too big for he who sits in it. Victory. Desperation. Insufficiency. A question.

"I think..." Dick starts, trying to understand. "I think he's the King... but he's not Pariah Dark."

Agreement. Apology. Questioning.

"He wants to know if we're looking for Pariah Dark, or if we're looking for the High King of the Infinite Realms." He glances between Zatanna and Constantine, uncertain of the answer himself.

Constantine pales.

"Whatever is inside you defeated the ancient of Rage and Destruction in single combat, Nightwing. It's a powerful motherfucker, and a total unknown." He warns cautiously.

"Get him out of there, now. Send it back." Batman demands.

TERROR. Pleading. Unbearable suffering. Shiny metal dripping with green blood. The end of love. Unfathomable loss. Death without release. Unending torment. Begging.

"NO!" The voice tears its way out of Nightwing without his consent.

Cowering. Apology. Apology. Guilt. Apology.

Dick clears his throat. "I don't think he wants to leave."

"All the more reason to send it back." Batman growls.

"Don't." Dick protests. "I know it's a risk, and there's a chance it's manipulating me. But, something doesn't feel right about all of this."

"Ghosts are well known for their skills regarding manipulation, mind control, and emotion tampering." Zatanna cautions.

"According to those dehumanising rags maybe," Constantine scoffs.

"Every source we have-"

"Two sources, Love. Both of which have a bit of a vested interest, wouldn't you say?"

Fear. FEAR. Frustration. Heartbreak. An unheard voice in a crowded room. A layperson lecturing an expert. Mockery. A spectacle of suffering. Lies. Hurt. Fear.

"He agrees with Constantine." Dick pipes in.

Exasperation. Reluctance.

"I don't think he's too happy about it." He laughs.

"Of course he agrees with Constantine, he's giving him what he wants." Red Robin huffs.

"He's afraid." Dick's voice cuts through the argument and the heroes turn to look at him. "I don't know exactly what's happening, but he's terrified of being sent back."

Zatanna sighs. "Let's do what we came to do, and then maybe we'll talk about letting him out."

(Something goes wrong and Dick and Danny end up stuck like this for a while.

Dick moves back into Wayne Manor while they try to figure out how to remove Danny from Dick's body without hurting either of them.

Everybody starts referring to Phantom as Dick's little passenger.

Eventually they repeal the Anti-Ecto Acts and find out all of the trauma Danny's been through via talking and dream/memory bleeding between him and Dick.

When Danny does finally manage to tumble out of Dick he is promptly adopted into the Batfam (what did anyone expect, he's a traumatised young teenager with black hair and blue eyes and barely any sense of self preservation).

In the meantime, however, Dick is happily going about his daily life with his little passenger, and Danny is still very traumatised but he's also contentedly curled up in Dick's chest, thrumming with happiness whenever Dick takes care of him.

Once or twice when Dick gets into Big Danger while vigilante-ing, Phantom forcibly takes over Dick's body to save him, using his ghost powers to fight the bad guy and escape the scenario. He cries afterwards because even though he needed to save Dick's life, he knows how terrifying and violating it feels to have someone else controlling your body (thanks Circus Gothica) and never wants to put anyone else through that.)

[choso-ish]

thinking abt boyfriend!caleb...

boyfriend!caleb who fixes everything without you even needing to ask. drawer sticking? already taken care of. lamp flickering? rewired it. he doesn't tell you—he just watches as you notice it later and coyly grins into his coffee. 

boyfriend!caleb who claims he's not tired after a long mission, only for you to find him half-asleep on the couch, boots still on and one arm curled around a pillow. His mouth is slack, just barely drooling onto the fabric, grumbling something unintelligible as you try to take off his shoes for him. 

boyfriend!caleb who never talks about his nightmares, but you know he has them. sometimes you wake to find him already staring at the ceiling, eyes tired and fingers quietly tracing his necklace. you don't press—you just reach for his hand under the covers, and he squeezes back like that's all he needed to fall back asleep again. 

boyfriend!caleb who always insists on carrying the groceries, your bags, or even your water bottle if you're out walking together. “what kind of man would I be if I let you haul this on your own?” he says, smug—but you catch him sneaking glances at your smile every time. 

boyfriend!caleb who brushes your hair behind your ear while you're half-asleep just to get a better look at your face. when your eyes flutter open, he’s still staring, mischief in his voice as he mutters, “would you look at that—i’m still not dreaming. guess i’m really stuck with you after all, pips.” 

boyfriend!caleb who likes it when you sit on the counter while he cooks. Not because it's helpful, but because he likes having you close, swinging your legs and stealing tastes while he pretends to scold you. “that’s for the plate, not your fingers. …okay, one more.” you’re lucky you're cute. 

boyfriend!caleb who doesn't say he's jealous, but suddenly gets a lot clingier after someone else makes you laugh. an arm slung around your waist, chin hooked over your shoulder, voice low and casual as he asks, “new friend of yours?” as much as you tease, he just hums and pulls you closer. “didn't know I needed to remind you who you belong to.” 

boyfriend!caleb who hates fighting with you—not because he can't argue, but because he refuses to let it wedge between you. even if he's still annoyed, he'll find you in the dark, sliding his arm around your torso, voice firm. “we’re not ending the night like this. i’m mad, you're mad, fine. but i’m not losing sleep over something we can fix. not with you.” 

boyfriend!caleb who pouts when you steal his jackets, but always makes sure the next one you take smells freshly laundered and has something tucked in its pocket—a wrapped candy, a scribbled note, a folded paper star—something small. something tender. something that’s his. 

boyfriend!caleb who doesn't flinch when you're angry because he wants you to feel safe expressing anything with him. he lowers his voice, softens his expression and says, “okay, hit me with it. no shields.” and he listens. 

boyfriend!caleb who dreams of a small life away from the fleet, from Ever, from everything. a place where no one knows his name, where the two of you can be ordinary. even when you blow off the prospect, he’s already mapped it out in his head, blueprints and all. 

boyfriend!caleb who doesn't let you see how much it kills him that he's part machine. but every time your fingers brush the metal of his arm, and you don't flinch—every time you press your lips to the cold and say, “still you”—something in him stitches back together. 

boyfriend!caleb who can't stop watching you when you're distracted. reading, cooking, tying your shoes, it doesn't matter. he stares like you're the most fascinating thing in the world. and when you catch him, he just shrugs. “what? can't look at my beautiful girl?” 

boyfriend!caleb who says ���mine” under his breath when he kisses you. it’s not about ownership, it’s about fear. like he still can’t believe you chose him. like if he doesn’t say it out loud, the world might steal you back. 

boyfriend!caleb who has contingency plans for if you go missing. not because he doesn't trust you (at least, for the most part), but because the world is dangerous. he's memorized every route of town, planted caches, and learned the faces and names of potential threats. you’ll never know how deep it goes. 

boyfriend!caleb who keeps a photo of you hidden behind the inner clasp of his uniform, its surface creased and edges softened by time and touch. no one knows it's there, not even you—but when the world turns brutal, pressures high and hands bloody, he’ll press his fingers to it like a lifeline. and sometimes, when no one's looking, he unfolds it—just for a moment—and allows his eyes to soften in a way his subordinates never see. you’re his axis. his anchor. his only constant in a world of smoke and lies. he’d crawl through fire, through blood, and through everything he hates about himself just to come home to you. 

[luna-azzurra]

Story Starters #1

Yearning for Belonging Starters (for characters who feel like they’re always outside the frame, even when they’re in the picture)

✧ I laugh when they laugh. I nod in the right places. And still, somehow, I always feel like I’m one beat off. ✧ I watch how easily they fit with each other. And I wonder what it’s like to not have to earn your place. ✧ I keep my voice soft and my presence smaller, like maybe if I take up less space, no one will notice I don’t belong. ✧ Sometimes I imagine someone turning to me and saying, I’m glad you’re here. And I try not to cry just thinking about it. ✧ I hear inside jokes like echoes of a language I never learned. ✧ There’s an ache in me that no one else seems to notice. Like I’m a missing puzzle piece for a box I’ve never seen. ✧ I try to match the energy in the room, but my smile always feels like a costume. ✧ I wish someone would choose me first. Just once. Without hesitation. Without backup plans. ✧ Being alone isn’t the hardest part. It’s being with people and still feeling like you’re standing outside a window, watching the warmth from the cold. ✧ I’m tired of pretending that not being invited doesn’t hurt.

Grief Without Closure Starters (for when what’s lost never got to finish its sentence)

✧ I keep thinking I’ll wake up and remember this is just a long, cruel dream. But the world keeps moving. And they’re still gone. ✧ There are so many things I didn’t say. And now they sit in my throat like stones. ✧ I walk through the places they used to be and pretend the air still remembers them. ✧ It’s not that I expect them to walk through the door. I just… never really stopped hoping they might. ✧ I want to scream. But I know even if I did, it wouldn’t bring them back. ✧ They left too soon. And now everything that follows feels unfairly loud. ✧ I still check my phone sometimes, as if a message might slip through from wherever they went. ✧ Everyone else moved on like it was a phase. Like grief has an expiration date. ✧ I smile when I talk about them. But it feels like I’m covering a wound with a sticker. ✧ I wasn’t ready to say goodbye. I still don’t think I have.

Quiet Crush Starters (for characters who are absolutely not in love, definitely not, shut up, no I’m not blushing)

✧ I don’t like them. I just notice their laugh before I notice anything else in the room. That’s normal. ✧ I know what color their eyes are in every kind of light. I wish I didn’t. ✧ I find myself looking for them before I even realize I’m scanning the crowd. ✧ Every time they say my name, I feel like I’ve just been handed a secret. ✧ I told myself I didn’t care. But when they sat next to someone else, my chest got tight in a way I couldn’t explain. ✧ I remember their little details. Not because I try. Just because I do. ✧ I thought it was a one-time thing. A passing thought. But here I am, three weeks later, still wondering if they meant that smile. ✧ I can’t tell if they like me too. And I’m scared to find out, either way. ✧ They said something kind, and I’ve been replaying it like it’s a song only I heard. ✧ I don’t even know if I want them. I just know I want to be near them. And that’s probably worse.

[cameronsbabydoll]

Set-up:

You're the wife everyone envies. Perfect hair, quiet smile, the kind of softness that turns into silence over time. You live in Rafe Cameron’s high-rise glass mansion, designed by the best, filled with expensive emptiness.

But you're dying. Slowly, quietly. And he doesn’t even see it.

Core Themes:

Unseen suffering. You ache and wither in private, never wanting to "burden" him.

Emotional starvation. He doesn’t cheat on you—he just isn’t there. Emotionally, physically, spiritually. You’re a ghost in your own home.

Growing dread. You feel time slipping. You mark it by how cold he’s gotten. How your body is failing. How nothing tastes right anymore.

His ignorance is the real heartbreak. He isn’t cruel. He just doesn’t notice you’re disappearing.

Key Scenes:

1. The Quiet Illness Begins:

You start forgetting things. Coughing blood in the sink and rinsing it down before he comes in. You hide the pills in your makeup drawer. The irony is: you’re dying, but still trying to be pretty for him.

2. The Dinner Scene:

You make his favorite meal. He’s two hours late. Takes one bite. Says he’s not hungry. You eat alone, your body weak, but forcing every bite down because you want to pretend this is normal.

3. The Anniversary Gift:

You write him a letter for each anniversary you won’t live to see. You keep them in a locked drawer. On your final one, you leave a photo from your wedding—he isn’t even looking at you in it.

4. The Missed Call:

He finds out from your doctor’s voicemail. The one you forgot to delete. His face when he hears “stage four” is not panic—it’s confusion. As if he never noticed you were sick.

5. The Confrontation:

He begs to know why you never told him. You just look at him and say,

"You haven’t looked at me in months, Rafe. What would’ve been the point?"

6. The Last Month:

He finally starts trying. Cancels trips. Tries to cook for you. Reads to you in bed. But you’re too tired to care. You’ve already let go. And now he’s clinging to a version of you he never noticed when you were alive.

7. The Final Day:

You die in the home you designed to feel like his. Wearing the silk robe he bought you two years ago—the one you never wore because he never noticed when you did. He finds you in the garden, asleep forever, surrounded by the flowers you planted alone.

8. The Aftermath:

Rafe doesn’t cry. He just stops. Stops speaking. Stops hosting. Stops going out. The house is quiet now. Too quiet. He reads one letter a year. He can't handle more than that.

And every night, he sleeps on your side of the bed.

Extra Elements:

He finds your journals—realizes you knew from the start and still loved him through every cold, distant morning.

He sees the baby shoes you bought but never told him about. You miscarried alone.

Your voicemail is still saved on his phone. And he plays it to hear your voice.

[dragonsondragons]

Self Care - Jack Abbot x Resident!Reader

Summary: Jack’s new girlfriend takes self care really seriously given the line of work they’re in. He starts to observe these habits and some of them rub off on him.

Tags: Super fluffy, no use of y/n, implied age gap, suggested sexual activity, no real smut just Jack feeling you up a little, beekeeper!Jack

Author’s Note: Why am I obsessed with beekeeper!jack. There may be more where this came from because I had so much fun with this one– perhaps Jack and reader gardening (wink wink) while in their garden? Leads to sweet and slow stoned sex? Let me know what you think or if you have any requests! I’m always looking for more ideas. 

You do your little stretching routine after you wake up and you ask him if he wants to join you. He gives it a try, reluctantly at first. Then he starts to realize how good it makes him feel and does it with you every time. 

“What's this pep in your step you got going on here, brother?” Robby notices one day at hand-off. “Something to do with your favorite resident? Or should I say…new lady friend,” he does a little jazz hands.

“I regret ever telling you about us,” Jack rolls his eyes at lady friend. “But yeah, actually. She’s got me stretching when we wake up,” he explains.

“Ah. She’s got you whipped is what you mean.”

Jack chuckles under his breath. “Fuck off, stretching is good for you. And being whipped isn’t so bad either.” ____

You have a little garden that you tend to in the morning as the sun’s still rising right when you get off shift. It's cathartic, to take care of something that can't puke or bleed on you. Can’t punch you in the face. 

Both you and Jack had worked last night and it was a tough one. One of those nights where it felt like you lost more than you saved. You asked Jack to come back to your place after the shift ended, just wanting to be near him after your hell of a day. 

It was still early in your relationship, you had only spent the night at Jack’s place. This was his first time coming to stay at yours. 

You could tell he was so exhausted that you offered to drive home and he eventually accepted. He sat in the passenger seat of his Tacoma with his eyes closed as you drove, envisioning a shower, you looking soft in a ratty old t-shirt, and eating take out on the couch before going to sleep.

Instead, after you made two mugs of tea and set one before him on the coffee table, you headed to the backyard, slipping through the sliding glass door with a quiet “be right back, have to take care of some stuff real quick.”

After you’re gone more than 10 minutes and he almost dozed off twice, he started to wonder what this stuff was. He peeks out the glass door, seeing you knelt down at the edge of a garden bed peeling weeds out of the ground around your plants. The garden hose was on, filling up a big watering can to your left.

He comes to stand next to your kneeling form, placing a tender hand on the crown of your head and lightly running his fingers through your hair. “What are you doing, baby?”

“Checking on the plants. It helps me clear my mind from the day.” You smile softly up at him, see his free hand rub at his weary eyes. “Why don’t you go hop in the shower, I’ll be right in," you promise. He nods, turns to head back inside. 

He couldn’t believe you wanted to be pulling weeds and lugging watering cans after a shift. But when you trailed in a few minutes later, joining him under the spray of the water, he could see the way your shoulders were looser. You were more peaceful, at ease. It made him feel more calm too, just knowing you felt a little bit better. 

He started lugging bags of soil for you the following mornings. Dug up trenches to lay a new irrigation system for the crops. This time of spring brought so many birds tweeting around in the morning air, the perfect sound track to your calming moments together in the garden.

It was a peaceful endeavor, one Jack never thought he would find himself doing but turns out he absolutely loves it. After you tell him about the benefits of pollinators he really wants to start keeping bees (Jack Abbot is beekeeping age). He does all this research about it to make sure he doesn’t fuck with the bees, wants to do it right. Gets the whole mesh suit which you can't stop laughing at the first time he puts it on. Names his hive Beetopia. He's serious about these bees and you find it so endearing. You love that he's meshing into your life like this, making his own niche in something you both do together.

Sometimes when there isn’t much to be done he’ll make breakfast while you tend to the garden. He will always try to utilize the fruits and vegetables you grow as well as his self-harvested honey whenever he can. You eat it out on the patio, admiring the work the two of you have done. Your own little paradise. ____

Out of all the self care tactics that you have brought into his life, the bubble bath is definitely one of his sleeper favorites. His house had a huge bathtub in it that he never once used. One of the first times you stayed over, you went to use the bathroom before going to bed. His eyes were already closed when he heard you squeal in the en suite attached to his room. 

“How did you not tell me about this!” you yelled out to him. 

“What, the bathroom?” he responded half asleep and confused. You came back into the room and jumped into the bed next to him, resting your chin on his chest. He peeked his eyes open as he rubbed up and down your back.

“No! That massive tub, genius!” He was surprised. Hadn’t thought once about that thing since he moved in. 

“You like it?”

“I don't like it, Jack. I love it. Baths are so soothing and rejuvenating. I always feel like a newborn baby when I get out of the bath. And I don't have a tub at my place.”

“You’re welcome to use it anytime you want, honey.” He shifted you to your side, cuddling into you and kissing your cheek. 

“You’re too good to me. And as a reward I’m making you get in there with me.” he lets out a breath of a laugh as he drifts off to sleep with you in his arms. ___

You both had the next day off, for once. So there was no time like the present to christen Jack’s bathtub. He was nervous about getting in, not being able to wear his prosthetic to keep him stable, but you got in first and held onto him tight as he stepped over the edge and eased himself down into the water. You settled in front of him, letting out a breath as you melted back into him. 

You thought you liked baths already, but this was pure bliss. His strong body against you, your breaths synching up. He washed your hair and you washed his. The warm water soothed his achy back and the overcompensating muscles in his leg. 

Safe to say, baths become a regular occurrence for you two.

You get him a matching fluffy robe with a hood because one time he said he was jealous of how cozy you looked in yours after a bath. Once, Shen stopped by to drop off the butterfly portable ultrasound that he had borrowed and Jack answered the door in said robe. 

Jack had his stoic work face on, the grumpiness only enhanced by the fact that Shen’s visit was interrupting his time with you.

“Ha, you look like a Sith, Abbot,” Shen teased him, butterfly in one hand and a half drank Dunkin’ in the other. “Robe’d up and about to cut my hand off.” He took a loud sip of his coffee as Jack just glared at him. 

“Get out of here before I actually consider it.” He tugged the Butterfly from Shen’s grasp, about to slam the door in his face. 

“Oh c'mon Jack, that’s not very nice.” You ran up to the door and opened it further to reveal yourself. 

“Sorry John, he didn’t mean that.” 

“Yeah right.” He takes in your appearance beside Jack, wearing the same exact fuzzy robe. “Like the matchy matchy, very cute you two.” Shen pulls out his phone and snaps a picture before either of you could even process it. “That’s totally going in the group chat, dude,” he laughed. 

“Not making a good case for yourself here,” Jack muttered. Shen couldnt stop laughing, and at that you moved your hand off the door jamb and let Jack slam it shut. 

He turned to you then and let out a little chuckle at the whole ordeal. “He’s a piece of work.”

“Thought he was your favorite resident?”

“No, you're my favorite resident.” ___

Besides stretching to start the day on a good note, taking soothing baths, and tending to your garden you also do yoga sometimes to turn your mind off and tune into your body after a hectic shift. He’s still reluctant to try that one, and likes to give you your space to do the things you enjoy on your own sometimes. So he doesn't join you for that, but he loves watching you as you get ready to head to the studio. 

You always wear these skin tight, colorful matching workout sets that drive him crazy. He doesn’t mean to keep you from getting to class, but sometimes he just can’t help the temptation.

“Baby,” he draws it out in a long groan. He crossed the room to you, grabbing your hips and ghosting his hands up and down, reverently. You were trying to gather your keys and yoga mat to head out the door. “You’re killing me here with the powder blue.” The leggings hugged your ass just right. God, he was about to start drooling.

You try to squirm out of his hold to put your shoes on, but he won't budge. “Get a good look, Jack, because I gotta go. Gonna be late if I don't leave right now.” 

“Oh no, you're gonna be late already? Maybe you should just stay here with me,” he pouts suggestively. 

“Already paid for the class. Actually you did, your card’s on the account.” With your resident salary, Jack liked to treat you to things like a membership to a fancy yoga studio with free green smoothies. He loved ‘providing’ for you, even though you both knew you could be just fine by yourself. 

“Even better. I don't care about losing 30 bucks right now. Because you look way too sexy in those leggings to leave me here all alone.” He pecks your lips, then down your neck, sucking the spot where he knows will draw out a moan from you. You grasp your hand into his hair, getting lost in his efforts to entice you. 

“Let me peel these off of you,” he begs, running his fingers under the waistband of the leggings. His hands travel lower, kneading at your ass and pulling you tighter against him. “Just let me worship your beautiful body, sweetheart.”

How could you say no to that? Maybe you would miss your class, but this was a form of self care as good as any.

[midniqhtt]

robert (bob) reynolds

masterlist • marvel • 05/14/25

˚‧⁺ ･ ˖ · ୨ৎ recs

𑣲 xerox pt2 pt3 I @ichorai

you had one last job before you were free. no more splitting, no more deaths. unfortunately, that job seemed to rope in four other assassins and a... a man in hospital-wear?

𑣲 the fling I @sacredsorceress

bob finds out that you had a one night stand with bucky a few years earlier and feelings bubble to the surface.

𑣲 therapy I @/sacredsorceress

𑣲 mocha I @/sacredsorceress

yelena decides to make it her mission to set up bob with her close friend.

𑣲 let go I @sunskisser

bob avoided you, and you had no idea why — till the night you help him out of a frenzy.

𑣲 the woes of bowties and missing puzzle pieces I @websterss

One day Bob having a rough day and void jumps out, creating quite a chaos. She tries to talk him through it but void being void thinking she’s a liability for them, he “consumed” her. Few moments after that he turns back into Bob & other people came back from void but not her.

𑣲 i see you I @cocastyle

𑣲 sneaking around I @callsign-swan

Bob doesn't mean to be sneaking around. But he can't help it. He's got a secret, and he wants to keep it that way. Too bad he's best friends with Yelena Belova.

𑣲 alone together I @/callsign-swan

For the last few years, Tony's daughter has been living out in the tower basement. She doesn't realise when Valentina buys the tower, not until she's being choked out by Sentry (turns out Sentry is a really sweet guy called Bob, who knew?)

𑣲 picnic day I @roanofarcc

when rain threatens a thunderbolts team bonding outing, per the request of Alexei, they turn to their resident weather-controlling team member to save their plans. 

𑣲 a bunch of teenagers I @mallory524

Bob has really started to like you, but he assumes you don’t feel the same way about him. You do though, and everyone seems to know that except Bob… and apparently also Walker, who really thought he had a chance

𑣲 in my arms I @woantohae

The Thunderbolts are constantly on missions, busy trying to do good and save whoever they can. One of them was Bob Reynolds, the defenseless yet powerful man who is part of this team and family. However, he doesn't participate in these missions so he can continue practicing controlling his powers. Despite telling them he's capable, the team prefers to give him more time to get used to them, until one mission, when a member of the team is injured. And all Bob can think about is the fury he feels when he hears Y/N being hurt. And how much he wants revenge on whoever did it.

𑣲 shadow I @/woantohae

Y/N loved the darkness because she could see the stars better. Void does everything in his power to make sure she can gaze at the starry sky, even if it means turning everything into darkness.

𑣲 like real people do I @froggibus

Bob seeks you out following a bad dream

𑣲 misunderstanding I @strkly

you and bob were inseparable. until he begins to ignore you and you have no clue why. when you’re injured after a mission gone wrong you’re finally able to find out why.

𑣲 darling I @fireinmoonshot

You always call Bob darling in private... until you accidentally slip up and use the nickname in front of the rest of the Thunderbolts.

𑣲 lethal touch I @hearts4johnwick

while training, all goes well until a move bob makes changes your concentration as you begin to relive your worst memory.

𑣲 stay with me I @scarletmika

Bob wants to feel useful, to truly be part of the team, but the others don't think he's ready. You take it upon yourself to teach him control, to guide him through. But mistakes will be made, and it might not be possible to keep the darkness from creeping back in once more.

𑣲 destiny or not I @/scarletmika

As The Darkhold foretold Wanda Maximoff's destiny, The Book of Vishanti foretold your own. You just didn't know how much of that destiny was intertwined with Bob Reynolds, until the day you met him in the vault.

𑣲 request I @lovebugism

you like taking care of bob on his bad days. he isn't quite sure why

𑣲 stitches I @skeltnwrites

Bob learns how to stitch a wound

𑣲 plainclothes man pt2 I @em1i2a3

Everyone at the compound knows Bob has a massive crush on you–except you.

𑣲 carry the zero I @/em1i2a3

You and Bob are sharing a room while the Avengers Compound is under renovations, which brings on a slew of new things to learn about one another.

𑣲 cherry waves I @/em1i2a3

You’ve been sick for a few days, so while the rest of the team goes out to do a recon mission, you’re on your own watching over Bob. One morning he comes to your room with a weird request.

𑣲 sailor song I @/em1i2a3

Bob is in love with you, but you can’t be what he wants.

𑣲 i wanna get lost with you I @/em1i2a3

After a rough night, you find yourself with a rare day off–the one that you take on the same day every year in memoriam for the fallen. So you head into the city to spend your feelings away on the only thing that makes sense to you: gifts for your favourite team of scrappy anti-heros…And Bob.

𑣲 a little bit of jam I @violetrainbow412-blog

𑣲 archives room I @owastie

you’re tasked with searching through the archives room to find some information on a new threat

𑣲 oh, scaling all your shadows I @swordgrace

plagued by nightmares, bob takes comfort in the one person who’s pulled him from the shadows time and time again — you.

𑣲 so high school I @pagesfromthevoid

𑣲 walk through darkness I @/pagesfromthevoid

𑣲 unfamiliar feeling I @ang3ltine

Bob was asleep for God knows how long, now that he has the chance at a better life. Who better to show him than you?

𑣲 admiration I @/ang3ltine

Being recruited by Valentina as part of the new Avengers (z) team was never part of your list of agendas. Yet here you were, doting on an awkward brunette.

𑣲 look what the cat dragged in I @eyelessfaces

you get bob a cat for emotional support; the cat adopts you as parents and is undeniably bound to bring the two of you closer.

𑣲 how to kiss I @worstghost

teaching bob how to kiss and accidentally slipping into a 20 minute makeout session

𑣲 the good side I @cosmictheo

bob loves you so much that he slowly begins to transform into a house-husband for you. and he loves it.

𑣲 fur-evermore I @ofstarsandvibranium

Because you're Bucky's assistant, you, and your service dog, Juniper, head to the tower to give him some files as well as meet the rest of his new team...including a very cute and slightly awkward, Bob.

𑣲 mr. oblivious I @/ofstarsandvibranium

Bob is sometimes oblivious to the fact that people find him attractive and/or like him. One of those people includes you.

𑣲 i dream of you even when awake I @deakyjoe

Your gift makes sleep difficult. Luckily, Bob is there to guide you through it.

𑣲 something special I @blank-potato

You’ve been the live-in doctor at Avengers Tower for a year, and Bob wants to get you something special to celebrate. Unbeknownst to him, that something special turns out to be a sex plant. 

𑣲 drabble I @undyingdecay

𑣲 peace in the darkness I @theonewiththefanfics

Bob knows Y/N isn't one to go back on her words. So when she doesn't show up to go through with their plans, he starts to worry. Luckily for him, Yelena knows how to break-and-enter. And doesn't mind invading her personal space.

[callsign-swan]

Into The Maw Of The Beast

The beast comes to collect a girl from your village every year. When you are chosen, you don't realise that the beast is a man. A man under a curse that only you can break.

A beauty and the beast retelling

"It's an honour to be chosen," your mother whispered as she brushed her hair through your fingers. "When I was a little girl, it was my dream to be chosen. Until I became ineligible."

She patted her stomach, no longer round with child.

Everybody from your village knew the story. The Beast that kept your village wanted your mother, expressed it every year until she was eligible to get chosen. But, a few months before she became eligible, she got too familiar with your father. The pregnancy stopped her from getting taken by the monster, but he let his rage be known.

That was why he made it clear he wanted you. You, or your village loses his protection.

The elders in your village immediately agreed. Your mother immediately agreed. Anything to keep herself safe, you supposed.

So here you stood, dressed in all white. The white flowers found at the castle entrance adorned your hair, the way the monster liked. Many girls had come before you, chin raised as they stepped through those gates and disappeared forever. Nobody knew what happened to them, and you weren't keen to find out.

"If it was your dream, why didn't you do it?" You pushed. Your lip threatened to wobble, eyes threatened to well up with tears. But you weren't going to cry.

Her hand rested on your shoulder, her smile that of a sweet and caring mother. But you had never known her that way. "Because I was having you! And the monster doesn't want something spoiled."

Something spoiled.

Most of the girls taken before you were 'spoiled', to quote your mother. But the monster took them anyway. Funny, isn't it? You were your mothers saving grace and she is your downfall.

"How long before he kills me?"

The Girls taken by the monster were never heard from again. It was easy to assume they were dead, their corpses rotting in his castle. His beastly form chewing on their flesh, blood coating the lions mane surrounding his face.

If you were lucky, it would be quick. But nobody had the courage to tell you that.

Every year the monster comes for a girl in your village. Every year your village hopes that this will be the last. The last time he will come, the last girl to get taken.

Your mother took your arm. The white dress was supposed to feel flattering, but you couldn't help but feel naked. Exposed in a sea of darkness. But the black mourning clothes were traditional for the rest of the village.

"Do what he says and you may stand a chance of surviving," your mother whispered as she walked you towards your post. She might as well have been leading you into the arms of death.

"Nobody survives," you reminded her. "Nobody comes back."

The post. So many before you had been tied to it. His swift claws had cut through the rope with precision, avoiding cutting their hands. But then he grabbed them, hoisted them over his shoulder, and ran back to his castle.

Now, it was your turn.

You pressed your back to the post, and held your hands together behind it. Your mother brushed a stray hand away from your face as your hands were tied behind your back.

"If the monster didn't want you so, I could have promised your hand to any man in our village," she whispered, her eyes welling up.

You wouldn't cry.

You knew what she was trying to say. Any man in your village. Any wealthy man that just wanted a wife as a pretty thing on his arm.

In one way, you were being saved. In every other way, you were being sent to your doom.

The village would mourn you for a few days, as is customary. A few days before they revelled in the fact that they were safe, that they were protected. They had fulfilled their end of the bargain, the monster would fill his.

And you would be dead. The weight of the world would be off your shoulders and you would be gone.

Every light in the castle came on at once.

"It is time," one of the village elders said. He pushed your mother out of the way and stepped forward to lay his hand on your shoulder. "We thank you for your sacrifice, my dear. Your memory will be honoured for years to come."

Bullshit. You would be forgotten the moment the mourning period was over.

The village elder stepped away. The entire village stepped away, retreating into their houses. Doors were locked and windows were closed.

You remembered watching once, as a girl. The monster had flown down with leathery wings. He landed, walked a circle around the girl on all fours before using his claws to swipe through the rope.

On wobbly legs, she had stepped forward at his command. But then the monster looked towards your house, met your gaze.

You ran away from the window before he could get a good look at you. You never did see what happened to the girl.

You were not nervous. You had no reason to be nervous. Every possibility your mind could conjure up for what would happen to you inside of that castle was either not as bad as what would happen, or it was accurate.

Still, your legs shook like a fawn.

Did it take this long with everybody else? Your eyes searched the sky for the winged beast that would put an end to you.

You shouldn't have been looking in front of you.

You heard him before you saw him, claws scraping against the ground with every step he took. Your breathing became laboured as he stalked closer.

And then he stepped in front of you.

In the years since you were a girl, nothing had changed. That same lions mane surrounded his face, those same horns were curling towards his head and those same tusks were protruding from his mouth. His claws were just as big, his paws bigger than that of any bear. On all fours, he was the size of you, maybe bigger than you.

But it's blue eyes were so striking. So human.

As human as his eyes were, they were nothing compared to the rest of it'sbeastly body.

Chin raised, just like your predecessors. It observed you, just for a moment, but you refused to meet it's gaze.

It's human gaze.

Finally, he stepped away from you. A snarl tore from it's lips as he circled you. It walked around you, it's claws flying out to tear through the ropes binding your hands together.

You could've run. You could have tried to bolt, to see just how far you could get before it inevitably caught you. Surely, you wouldn't have been the first to try.

Like it could read your thoughts, it growled and you stilled.

"Come," it grunted and began walking. Feet frozen to the ground, you couldn't bring yourself to take a step in his direction.

To step into the maw of the beast.

Another growl. Standing on his hind legs, at his full height, he towered over you. Paws grabbed you, lifted you into his arms. His claws dug into your skin. Not enough to pierce. Not enough to stain your white dress with blood.

You wouldn't cry. Not for this monster.

Nobody came to save you. Nobody came running out of their house, sword in hand to save you.

Like those before you, they let the monster take you away.

The monster could fly. It spread its wings and took off towards the castle. It moved silently through the night, feeling only noise being the flapping of its wings and the roar of the wind.

"What will you do with me?"

It couldn't hear you over the howling wind, over the flapping of its wings. Another grunt left its lips, body dropping lower in the sky.

Nobody had any reason to go near the castle unless they were sacrificed to the beast. A brave few went near the case to collect flowers. Flowers that were woven into your hair.

You were going to die in this place.

The monster dropped onto one of the turrets. Dropping onto all fours, he let you go. His leather wings folded against his back as he took a step forward. "Come."

The only words the monster had said to her so far.

There was nothing you could see when you looked around. The ground was far below you, too far to see. The only way off the turret was to follow him.

So, you followed him.

"What will you do with me?" She asked as she rushed to catch up with him.

The monster stopped. "Nothing," he said. "Your job is to keep me company."

"Why?" You couldn't stopped the way you barked it, your voice demanding. "What about the other girls you have stolen from my village?"

He looked at you with those human eyes. So blue, so much like a man. "They didn't make it," he said and kept on walking.

There was no more room for questioning as he disappeared into one of the many rooms, the door slamming shut behind him.

In a moment of bravery, you tried to open the doors. But it didn't work; they didn't so much as budge.

Instead, a door at the other end of the hall swung open. There was no creak, or maybe you were just too far away to hear it.

With no other choice, you approached the open door. The hall was filled with portraits, old painted pictures of kings that used to reside in the castle, used to rule over the land..

That was before the monster took over.

You stepped into the room. A room that looked as though it was made for you. A four poster bed with flowery sheets and soft pillows. Lace curtains closed. A white wardrobe was pushed into the corner; if you opened it up you would have discovered it was full of beautiful clothes.

The bed seemed to call to you. Like a siren with it's song, it beckoned you closer. You stepped towards it and the door swung shut behind you. But it didn't panic you as you laid down on the bed, your head hitting the pillow.

***

"The house welcomed her," Charles said as he stepped towards Max. The only company he was allowed in his curse.

A growl left his lips. "She'll be gone before the end of the week," he said through a grunt and settled his beastly body in his broken throne. "Just like the rest of them."

"Max," Charles barked. "The house welcomed her!" He insisted. "The house welcomed none of the others."

Max released a breath as the sun set, his body becoming a man again. His fur, his wings, his tusks, disappeared. His horns shrank in size, fitting his face better. He still had claws, when he wanted them.

Aside from the horns and the tail, he looked human. He was mostly a man again.

Max picked up the mirror from his desk. "Show me her," he said and the mirror sprung to life. The glass seemed to glow before the image of him disappeared, becoming you.

You, laying in the bed the house had made for you. Charles was right. The house had fitted the bed with sheets for you. For every other girl Max had brought to the castle, the house hadn't tried.

For you, the house had made an effort. The house was doing what it could to make you comfortable.

Why you? What was it about you that had the house taking care of you? Maybe Charles was right.

Before he could see anything more, Max placed the mirror down. He couldn't start thinking like that, couldn't get his hopes up.

The curse wouldn't be broken.

"What will you do if she lasts the week?" Charles asked as he stalked towards the balcony. But he couldn't step outside; that was his curse.

Max raised his shoulders in a shrug. "She won't last the week," he said, crossing one leg over the other.

"If she does?"

Max glared at him, his nostrils flaring slightly. "It won't."

Nobody else had lasted a week in his castle. Why should you?

***

Never before had you slept in a bed so comfortable. Your eyes opened, but you didn't move. The pillow was full of feathers, the perfect resting place for your head.

Behind you, the curtains flew open. You turned to see what manner of creature was in your room. But there was nothing. You were completely alone.

The wardrobe doors opened, revealing the beautiful clothes inside. "What is this?" You found yourself asking as you sat up.

The wardrobe door moved, it's hinges squeaking. It was almost like it was waving at you.

"Okay." You pushed yourself to your feet, hands on your hips as you stood in front of the wardrobe. "What do you recommend?"

The wardrobe spat something out.

A dress, finer than anything you'd worn before. Red, made of fine fabrics and intricate stitching. No tears, no evidence of your mother trying to fix said tears.

Picking up the dress, you felt the fabric it was made from between your fingers. "Thank you," you said to the wardrobe and began getting dressed.

As soon as you were dressed, the door to your bedroom opened. "That way?" You asked and the wardrobe door moved again.

You left the room and stepped our into the hall. In daylight, it looked beautiful. The paintings looked beautiful, and the castle was certainly well taken care of.

"Where to now?" You asked outloud, waiting for the castle to respond. But it didn't. Maybe the magic was only in your bedroom.

Blindly, you wandered through the castle. Down a set of steps, covered in red carpet.

The castle was damn gorgeous. Sconces on the walls, beautiful stained glass windows. But there was no chance for you to admire it before another door opened.

Immediately, you stepped through it.

No beast waited for you on the other side. Instead, there was a man. A man in a broken throne.

He was gorgeous, his blonde hair looking closer to brown in this light. Freckles on his lip and his eyes. His blue eyes.

You hadn't taken notice of the horns on his head or the tail peaking out of his trousers.

"Shouldn't you be cowering in your bedroom?" He asked you with an air of indifference.

Hands behind your back, you sucked in a shaking, nervous breath. The Beast had to be around here somewhere, waiting to pounce. "The castle led me in here," you mumbled and looked away from him, unable to make his blue gaze.

Suddenly, he sat up straighter, his eyes going wide. "The castle led you in here?" He asked. "How?"

"The doors opened, so I went in."

The man in front of you stood suddenly. "The castle opened its doors for you," he said and you nodded. "And it led you to me."

You nodded again.

***

Shit. Maybe you were the one.

Chapter One... maybe

[reiding-writing]

can you write about cold!reader where the team finds out they're together? ahh i love them so much!

UNDENIABLY YOURS. /spencer reid/

you pick up the wrong phone.

late s10 cold!reader 2.6k fluff series masterlist. main masterlist.

a/n | love a good cliche :)

Spencer’s apartment is quiet. Not the kind of quiet that feels awkward or hollow, but the kind that settles over you like a warm blanket—a gentle hush made of ticking clocks, the occasional hum of traffic outside, and the soft shuffling sounds of a man who’s currently making tea in the kitchen.

You’re on his couch, half-curled under a throw blanket that doesn’t quite cover your feet. The place smells like old books and something herbal, likely the blend Spencer claims is “soothing to the parasympathetic nervous system.” You never asked what that meant. You suspect it’s just chamomile with a marketing degree.

The night stretched longer than you intended. Dinner turned into wine, which turned into a slow tour through his cluttered bookshelves, which turned into another round of debate over Kant’s categorical imperative versus utilitarian ethics.

You were only supposed to drop by after work. A quick visit, maybe an hour. But Spencer always pulls time out from under you like a magician with a tablecloth.

And you stay. Again.

You don’t touch much when you’re with him. Not like you could. He’s all soft eyes and hesitant hands. He doesn’t crowd you, doesn’t demand declarations or affection you’re not ready to give. And you? You’re good at compartmentalising. At keeping your feelings tucked into corners, neatly labeled and out of reach. It’s safer that way. Less chaotic.

But you always show up.

That counts for something, right?

“Tea,” he says, emerging from the kitchen with two mismatched mugs. He hands you the one with faded cartoon planets on it. You take it wordlessly.

“Still pretending this helps your parasympathetic system or whatever?” you murmur into the rim of the cup.

Spencer smiles. He always smiles when you needle him. Like he knows it’s your version of affection. Like he’s fluent in your brand of emotional repression.

“I’m not pretending,” he says, settling into the armchair across from you. “There are studies,”

“There are always studies,”

“You want me to send you the links?”

“No,”

“You’d like the one from 2009. It discusses—”

“Spencer,”

“Okay,” he says, holding up both hands in mock surrender. “No studies,”

You sip the tea. It’s hot and bitter and tastes like him. Not literally—he doesn’t taste like dried flowers—but something about the comfort of the moment, the soft warmth of the mug against your palm, the way he looks at you like you’re not a puzzle to solve but a story he’s enjoying watching unfold. It’s familiar. Steady.

Which is probably why you’re still here.

“You staying?” he asks after a few minutes, voice casual. Too casual. Like he didn’t spend the last half hour not asking.

You glance at the clock. It’s past midnight. Late enough to make the excuse that you’re just tired and don’t want to drive. You’re already in the oversized hoodie he handed you—his hoodie, not yours—and your shoes are near the door, lined up next to his like it means something.

You should deflect. You always deflect.

Instead, you say, “Yeah,”

He doesn’t react much, just nods, but there’s a softness in his eyes that makes your chest ache in a way you refuse to examine.

He doesn’t ask for more. He never does.

It’s part of the deal.

Instead, he turns on some lo-fi instrumental playlist (he claims lyrics distract his brain when he’s trying to wind down), and you both migrate to his bedroom.

—

You don’t remember falling asleep. Just that at some point, your eyes fluttered shut, and for once, your thoughts didn’t keep you awake. No spiraling worst-case scenarios. No calculating emotional fallout. Just warmth, and the slow, steady rhythm of Spencer breathing beside you. The kind of peace you don’t admit you crave.

Until it’s shattered.

The phone rings—sharp, insistent—and you jolt awake in an instant, heart pounding with the abrupt transition. The room is pitch black, save for the glowing screen on the nightstand. Spencer groans softly beside you, but doesn’t move.

Still half-asleep, you fumble your hand over the nightstand. Spencer’s glasses, unfinished book, rectangle of impending doom. That’s the one.

“Unless there’s an active terrorist threat,” you snap, voice rough with sleep, “there is zero reason to be calling this late.”

There’s a beat of stunned silence.

Then, cautiously, “…Wait, who is this?”

You rub your face with your free hand, already annoyed. “Who do you think?”

Another pause—longer this time. And then, sharply suspicious, “…Not Spencer Reid?”

You blink, finally focusing on the phone’s lock screen. It’s not yours. Definitely not yours.

You sit up slightly, stomach dropping. Shit. “Uh—”

Spencer stirs beside you, blinking blearily. “Wha’s going on…?”

And that’s when it happens. A long, slow intake of breath through the receiver.

“Oooooooooooooooooh,”

You try to recover. “Garcia.”

“Oh my god,” she hisses, like she just found the holy grail. “I knew something was going on! Oh my god, I knew it!”

Spencer’s sitting up now, trying to make sense of the chaos. “Who is it?”

“Penelope,” you say flatly, glancing at the screen like it’s radioactive as you reluctantly put the call on speakerphone. “What do you want?”

“I need visual confirmation immediately,” Garcia is saying, way too awake for 2:07 AM. “Is he shirtless? Wait—are you? Never mind, don’t answer that. I respect boundaries. Mostly. Oh my god.”

“Garcia.” you say, trying for a tone of calm, rational authority, but it comes out more defensive than intended. ”What do you want?”

“We have an urgent case my dear lovebirds,” She’s practically vibrating through the phone. Hotch wants everyone in the office. Oh I can’t wait to see everyone’s reactions,”

“Garcia—”

“Nope! Too late! This is the best news I’ve gotten all year. JJ owes me twenty dollars, I knew I saw something in the way you looked at each other during the surveillance briefing last month. I have receipts.”

“We’ll be in the office soon,” Spencer mumbles, already resigned.

“Oh, you better be,” she says, like she’s the one running the FBI now. “Buckle up, lovebirds!”

The call ends with a cheerful “Byeeeeeee!” and a click.

You sit there in stunned silence, phone still in your hand, the screen now dark and judgmental. Spencer groans, collapsing backward into the pillows.

“She’s going to tell everyone,”

“She’s already telling everyone,” you correct, flopping back beside him.

“This is going to be so embarrassing,”

You glance over at him—hair tousled, face flushed, one arm slung over his eyes like he’s trying to hide from the world. It’s honestly… kind of adorable.

You smile, just a little. “Could be worse,”

—

The BAU's conference room is already buzzing when you and Spencer walk in—thirty minutes later, coffee in hand, trying very hard to pretend this is just a normal Thursday.

It is not a normal Thursday.

Everyone is already there. Everyone is already looking.

Garcia practically explodes with smug glee the second she sees you. She doesn’t say a word—she doesn’t have to. She’s vibrating with the restrained chaos of someone who knows they’ve set off a very satisfying chain reaction. Her eyes sparkle. Her smile is enormous. She’s won something, and she knows it.

Spencer, for his part, looks like he wants the floor to swallow him whole. He’s gone unusually quiet, hiding behind the rim of his coffee cup like it’s a shield. He keeps tugging at the sleeves of his sweater, hands jittery, face flushed, clearly regretting every decision that led to this moment. He won’t look at anyone.

And everyone else?

Well.

JJ’s eyebrows are in her hairline. Emily’s face is frozen somewhere between astonishment and visible mental recalibration. Morgan looks like he just got handed a particularly juicy tabloid headline. And Rossi—bless him—leans back in his chair, crosses his arms, and gives you both the kind of slow, impressed once-over usually reserved for rare bourbon.

Nobody says anything.

The silence stretches.

Spencer makes a small noise like he’s about to speak—probably to stammer through some clumsy attempt at clarification—but you beat him to it.

You cross your arms, plant your feet, and deliver the line like a press briefing:

“Yes, we’re dating. No, we haven’t had sex. We’ve been together officially for three months. I will not answer any questions, so don’t ask them.”

It lands like a bomb.

The room goes absolutely silent.

For a few blessed seconds, no one dares to move.

Then, from the corner, Rossi lets out a low chuckle—more impressed than anything else. “Well. That’s one way to do it,”

Morgan whistles low under his breath, shaking his head with an admiring grin. “Damn, kid,” he says to Spencer, who is now actively hiding behind his coffee. “I knew you had game,”

Garcia looks like she’s about to start clapping. You shoot her a warning glare.

“I’m just happy for you!” she chirps, hands raised in innocence. “This is so good for team morale,”

You glance at Spencer—his face still red, lips pressed tight like he’s trying not to die on the spot—and sigh.

Hotch remains blissfully unaffected.

He’s sitting at the head of the conference table, scrawling something on a case file with his ever-present air of detached focus. His pen moves in slow, methodical strokes as if he’s entirely unaware that the team has just been thrown into chaos.

Everyone is staring at Hotch now, waiting for him to react, but he doesn’t—he doesn’t even look up from his paperwork.

Rossi, of course, is the first to break the silence. “You knew about this,”

Hotch finally looks up—barely. It’s almost as if he’s taking a mental note of your existence before giving his usual level of minimal acknowledgment.

“They informed me,” he says matter-of-factly. “HR protocols.”

The silence in the room grows exponentially. HR protocols?

Rossi looks betrayed. So does Emily. JJ blinks rapidly, trying to process the betrayal. Even Morgan stares at Hotch like he just said something deeply alien to their universe.

Garcia’s jaw drops in comically exaggerated shock. “Wait… you knew and didn’t tell us? Hotch!” She looks almost wounded by the injustice of it all.

Hotch, however, doesn’t seem bothered in the slightest. He leans back in his chair, tapping his pen idly on the table. “I was informed of a change in personal relationships within the team,” he says, as if explaining why his coffee’s not hot enough. “Standard procedure.”

Derek’s mouth twitches with the effort to hold back laughter, clearly fighting the urge to burst into full-on chuckles. “That’s it? No ‘I’m happy for you’ or ‘This changes everything!’?”

Hotch doesn’t even flinch. “Congratulations,” he adds with minimal sincerity, glancing up briefly, before continuing, “but we have an urgent case to focus on.”

Everyone’s collective sense of betrayal is palpable. There’s a beat of stunned silence before Emily, trying to save face, says, “I… I guess we should focus on the case.” She says it with half a smile, but the effort is obvious. “But seriously, Hotch. No heads-up? Not even a hint?”

Hotch simply gives them his patented “this is serious business” look and straightens up. “Focus, everyone.” His voice brooks no argument. “We’re being briefed on a new case, and I need all of you focused. Now.”

And just like that, the air in the room shifts. The humor fades, the teasing subsides, and everyone reluctantly pulls their attention to the matter at hand.

—

The rest of the day passes in a haze of good-natured (and sometimes not so good-natured) teasing. Derek, as always, is the first to crack a joke.

“So, you two gonna make superhuman babies, or what?” he smirks, raising his eyebrows suggestively as he watches you and Spencer in the hallway.

Spencer nearly chokes on his coffee, his face turning an even deeper shade of red. “Morgan,” he stammers, voice barely above a whisper, “can you not?”

Derek just grins wider. “Oh, I’m just getting started, loverboy,” He winks at you both and saunters off with the most obnoxious swagger imaginable.

Garcia, never one to be outdone, is already planning date ideas before you even step off the jet. “You two should so check out that new fancy restaurant that just opened up down the street,” She nods at you, holding up her phone like she’s already making the reservation.

You raise an eyebrow at Spencer, just to see his reaction. He’s still turning red, but you can’t help a small, satisfied smile at the sight of his discomfited expression.

“No, Garcia. We shouldn’t,”

“Oh come on,” She beams. “I would die to be taken there on a date,”

You tilt your head at her, “You really think we would enjoy a place like that? Really?”

“Well…”

Emily, for her part, is still trying to process what the hell just happened. She keeps glancing at you both, trying to act casual but clearly still in disbelief. “So soon—” She shakes her head. “I’m just—wow. Okay. Good for you, I guess? I’ve gotta go hide from Morgan now, completely unrelated—”

JJ just chuckles, arms crossed. “Congratulations, both of you. I’m really happy for you,”

You could almost thank the universe for the relief of normalcy. You don’t. The universe didn’t do shit. It was all you. And Spencer. Mainly Spencer. “Thank you,”

The day finally winds down, and it’s time to leave. Spencer walks you to your hotel room, still looking like he might burst into flames from sheer embarrassment. You’ve let him be teased by the others, of course, but nothing too much. He’s still wearing that sheepish, half-worried expression as you approach your car, and you can’t help but smirk.

“Well,” you say, glancing up at him as you lean against the room’s door, “Now they know,”

Spencer groans. It’s low, and it carries all the weight of his supposed regret. “Yeah,”

You lean in just a little, close enough that your voices are quiet but not enough for anyone else to overhear. You keep your tone flat, but there’s something soft in your eyes when you speak.

“Could’ve been worse,” you remark, just barely meeting his gaze. A quiet reassurance, a little more tender than the rest of the day has been. It’s not the most romantic thing in the world, but it’s yours.

He’s helpless, standing there, still flustered. But the way he looks at you—fondness in his eyes and a soft laugh escaping his lips—makes everything feel more okay than it probably should.

You reach up a soft hand to brush over the side of Spencer’s face, a juxtaposition he’d never point out unless you asked, and he smiles against you as you kiss him goodnight.

You’re barely parted when he speaks, foreheads pressed together and his declaration a whisper on your lips. “I love you,”

“Thank you,” you nod softly as you separate, “Goodnight, Spencer,”

“goodnight,”

[mssishipi]

TASTE OF INDULGENCE

CHAPTER 5 - TOO SWEET

They say three’s a crowd, but for Jay, Jake, and you—it’s starting to feel something closer to home. Love was never meant to be this simple, this natural, but with them, it’s loud in the best ways, a little chaotic, deeply tender, and a little too sweet to ever let go.

content tags: slice of life, established relationship, mc backstory, jayke backstory, fluff, fluff and little bit of angst, then fluff. timeskip, this chapter is corny but at least it's happy ending. and! take time to read my note at the end pls.

explicit content (smut): vaginal and anal fingering, cunnilingus, rimming, unprotected sex, threesome (dom jake, dom jay x sub reader) somnophilia, blowjob, slightly dub con, double penetration, unprotected anal sex (fxm), mxm scenes, multiple sex position. MDNI. WC: 18.2K

want a taste?

4 YEARS AGO

JAKE grinned ear to ear, practically bouncing on the balls of his feet as his gaze swept over the crowd. The music was loud, the lights erratic, and people were already spilling drinks and laughing too loud but Jake loved it.

This was exactly what he pictured college to be.

"Baby, are you excited for the first day of school?" he asked brightly, turning to face his boyfriend. Jay stood beside him with a disinterested scowl, arms loosely crossed, his eyes scanning the mass of dancing bodies with veiled judgment.

Jake bumped his shoulder playfully, trying to coax a smile out of him. "Come on. Parties like this existed in high school too. Don't act like you've never seen drunk teenagers twerking to bad remixes."

Jay raised an eyebrow at him, deadpan. "I didn't attend parties. This is my first time."

Jake blinked, surprised. "Wait, seriously?"

Jay nodded, then glanced back toward the crowd with a look of mild disgust. "And it's gross."

Jake laughed, slinging an arm over his shoulder. "You're such a grandpa. Come on, just pretend you're having fun."

Jay sighed but didn't resist when Jake intertwined their fingers, pulling him gently through the throng of sweaty bodies and flashing lights. His grip tightened protectively as people bumped into them left and right.

Then came the chant from the far end of the room, loud and synchronized over the music: "Go, bad bitch, go bad bitch go! Go, bad bitch, go bad bitch go!"

Jake's eyes lit up immediately, he grinned, tugging Jay toward the source of the chaos. Jay hesitated for a split second, but followed.

The crowd had formed a loose circle around the center of the living room. Phones were out, people laughing and cheering, hyping up whoever was in the spotlight. And there, in the middle—was you.

You were lying flat on a makeshift bar table, skin glowing under the colored lights, a lime wedge resting between your lips. Two other girls leaned in, each on either side of you. One was licking a trail of salt up from your stomach, the other from the base of your neck. The moment the salt was gone, they dove in, mouths finding yours together to take the lime between their teeth.

The crowd erupted. Phones flashed. Drunken hollers echoed. Someone near Jay screamed, "Holy fuck, she's wild!"

Jake whooped, clapping his hands. Jay, on the other hand, just stood there, his mouth slightly ajar. And neither of them looked away.

The rest of the party blurred by after that. And somehow, Jake stayed surprisingly clear-headed. His tolerance had always been higher than most. Jay kept his hands shoved in his pockets, back pressed to the wall, his usual role as Jake's quiet shadow. He didn't like parties, but he stayed—for Jake.

Later that night, as the house began to quiet and bodies thinned, a senior stumbled down the hallway, trying to prop you up in his arms. You were clearly out of it—eyes half-lidded, mumbling incoherently, limbs too loose.

"Please," the senior slurred, gesturing to the others with one hand while the other barely kept you upright. "Her dorm's just across from the school. My car's full. I can't take her."

Jay narrowed his eyes instantly. Then another guy tried to step in. "Hey! I don't trust my best friend with some stranger. You're dumb as hell. I'll take her." His hand slid around your waist but missed its mark as he nearly toppled over himself.

Jake was already moving. "Alright," he said smoothly, stepping between you and the two drunks. "We've got her."

"Don't worry about it," Jay said flatly, already reaching for your arm.

Jake crouched in front of you, grinning softly. "Hey there, party queen. Time to go, yeah?" You blinked slowly, confused, but didn't resist when Jake turned and let you slump over his back. He hooked his arms under your thighs, carrying you.

Sunoo appeared around the corner at that exact moment, also tipsy and clinging to Jay's shoulder for balance. "H-hey! Don't forget about me, you assholes," he slurred, his cheek pressed to Jay's arm.

Jay sighed, feeling Sunoo's weight. He looked at Jake, who was now adjusting you more securely onto his back.

"This is not how I thought tonight would go," Jay muttered, earning a soft laugh from Jake.

But still, neither of them complained.

"That was you?!"

Your eyes widened in disbelief as you stared at Jake, who was casually popping a marshmallow into his mouth, already mid-laugh.

"Yup!" he said, chewing with a grin. "I didn't even remember it until Jay brought it up again. He was the one who recognized you."

You let out a breathless laugh, pointing at him with an accusing finger. "Oh my God—that's so weird! There's a name for that, right? When something connects later, after the fact..."

Jake raised an eyebrow, still grinning. "You mean fate?"

"No, no, not fate. Like... a theory. Something about timing, or patterns—ugh, what is it called?" You tapped your temple, your brows furrowed as you struggled to catch the slippery thought.

Jay, who had been quietly lounging nearby, finally spoke up in his usual calm, dry tone. "Red string theory?"

You turned toward him, eyes lighting up. "Yes! That! The one about people being connected by an invisible red string, right? No matter the time, place, or circumstances."

Jake raised an eyebrow, smirking around the marshmallow he was chewing. "Wow, look at Jay getting all romantic."

Jay rolled his eyes but didn't deny it. "Just answering the question."

You grinned, leaning back on your hands as the warmth from the fire flickered across your face. "Kind of wild, though. Like... what are the chances that it was you two who carried me back that night? I didn't even remember your faces."

Jake let out a laugh, tossing another marshmallow into his mouth. "Yeah, but that's so corny."

You whipped your head toward him, offended. "Excuse me? The nerve of you to even say the word corny to me!"

Jake only grinned wider, catching you in one of his spontaneous bear hugs, nuzzling his cold nose against your cheek. A habit of his.

It had been two months now since you'd made it official—the three of you. A real relationship. And it still felt surreal sometimes, like you were walking through someone else's dream. But the dream never burst. It just kept unfolding, piece by piece.

Unlike the early days, you had begun to notice more. More about them.

Jake always nuzzled his nose against your cheek when he was especially happy or needy. It was his way of grounding himself. He still clung like a koala in his sleep, and the more affectionate he was during the day, the more clingy he became at night.

Jay, on the other hand, didn't smother. But he paid attention. He remembered the flavor of non-coffee drink you liked without asking. Always gave you the last bite. Always checked if your charger was plugged in or if you had your meds in your bag. He wouldn't say sweet words often, but it showed in the quietest ways—like warming your side of the bed when you went to shower, or silently making your favorite coffee just the way you liked it without a word.

Though you still lived separately, your things had slowly begun to gather in their apartment—spare clothes folded in their drawers, your skincare beside the sink. Most of your nights ended there, tangled in the sheets of Jay's bed, wrapped between the two of them.

Finals were over. You were technically on break now, waiting for your internship assignments to be announced. It gave you more time with them.

Polyamory still wasn't something you felt fully comfortable sharing publicly. People had opinions. Judgments. And while you weren't ashamed of your relationship, you weren't ready to offer it up for scrutiny either. But Jake and Jay—God, they made sure you never had to feel small or hidden.

If you held Jake's hand in public, Jay held your other. If someone stared too long, Jay would narrow his eyes and Jake would kiss your cheek just to spite them. They protected you from the outside world in quiet ways. And somehow, that made it easier to keep going.

Because every relationship needs communication.

But yours needed more than that.

You were the type of girl who overthought everything. The kind who cried over imaginary scenarios at 2 a.m., the kind who spiraled in her head over a misread emoji. But Jay and Jake had never once made you feel like a third wheel—never once made you question if you were wanted.

If anything, they had a way of anchoring you when your own mind started pulling you under.

Jake was always the first to notice. He'd tilt his head, study your face for a few seconds, and then, without saying a word, climb into your lap, wrap himself around you, and whisper something stupid like, "You look like you're thinking evil thoughts again." And somehow, his playful teasing would melt the anxiety before it could take root.

Jay's approach was different. He didn't ask what was wrong. He'd just pull you to his side, rest your head on his chest, and let his fingers stroke your hair until the noise in your brain dulled to a hum. He wouldn't pry, but if you started to talk, he'd listen. Not interrupt. Not dismiss. Just... listen.

That's how it worked, somehow.

Jake was sunshine, so warm, chaotic, and always moving.

Jay was moonlight, so quiet, steady, and always present.

And you... you were still trying to understand how two people like that had managed to wrap themselves around your life so effortlessly.

It wasn't always easy. Sometimes, you panicked over little things—if they spent too much time alone without you, if they didn't text back fast enough, if Jake seemed too tired or Jay seemed too distant.

But then Jake would crawl into your lap during movie night and demand kisses like a spoiled puppy, or Jay would press a coffee into your hands in the morning and quietly say, "It's been steeped for five minutes. I know you like it stronger," and all the doubt would dissolve.

They never made you ask for love. They just gave it. In ways you were still learning how to receive without guilt.

Sometimes you would lie in bed between them, one of Jake's arms draped across your waist, Jay's fingers brushing the curve of your thigh, and you'd just stare at the ceiling and wonder how the hell this became your life.

How the hell you went from crying alone in your dorm bed, convinced love wasn't something that came easily for girls like you... to waking up between two people who made you feel like the sun never set when you were around.

In your relationship, solo moments with each of them were fine—you'd communicated that early on. Sometimes, it was just you and Jay, or just you and Jake. But what you loved most was when the three of you were together. That's when it felt the most whole. The most right.

Sex was inevitable, of course. Desire had long since stopped being subtle between the three of you. But you preferred it when it was all of you, when they were both there, touching you, watching each other, and you.

You were sprawled across Jay's mattress, your breath catching as you blinked up at the ceiling. Sweat clung to your skin, the aftershocks of your orgasm still tingling through your limbs. Jake lay beside you, flushed and grinning, his chest rising and falling in slow rhythm.

"Huh? We're not going to do another round?" you asked breathlessly, lifting your head as your arm flopped over Jake's chest. "I still have energy..."

Jay, who was already standing by the bed, glanced over his shoulder with a raised brow. "You say that now, but you were shaking ten minutes ago."

"I always shake after!" you countered, voice pitching up into a whine. "I can go again. Please?"

Jay shook his head with an amused exhale, grabbing a towel and returning to the bed. He knelt beside you, gently guiding you to lie on your back. "You got diagnosed with low blood sugar last month, remember?" he murmured, dabbing sweat from your brow. "We're not pushing it. Not tonight."

"But I'm not even that tired," you pouted, reaching out to tug at his wrist as he wiped you down. Your eyes flicked toward Jake, who just burst out laughing.

"She's doing it again," Jake chuckled, brushing your hair back from your face. "Trying to act all bratty after coming twice."

You stuck your tongue out at him, still sulking. "It's not bratty if I mean it. I'm literally telling you what I want."

"Yeah?" Jay leaned down, lips brushing your temple. "Well, I want you to stop being hardheaded."

You huffed. "That's unfair."

In those times, you noticed how Jay and Jake would always bicker over the smallest things. At first, you thought Jay was too mature to even entertain those petty arguments. He always carried himself with such calm, measured detachment. But that image of him shifted entirely the day they started fighting over a Lego set you had randomly bought for fun.

It was supposed to be a relaxing evening, just the three of you lounging around the apartment after dinner. You pulled out the box with a grin, half-joking when you said, "Let's see if we can finish this without throwing hands."  You had no idea you were basically handing them a fuse and a match.

Jake immediately dived into the pieces like an overexcited child, sorting bricks. "We're starting with the base," he declared, laying out the instructions.

"No, we should build the smaller sections first," Jay countered, already pulling pieces aside, ignoring Jake entirely.

"Jay," Jake said slowly, narrowing his eyes, "you always do this. We follow my lead, and the thing turns out perfect."

"Says the guy who made the Millennium Falcon with an upside-down cockpit," Jay replied dryly, not even looking up.

You sat back on the floor, biting your lip to stifle a laugh as they bickered like a married couple over Lego.

Jay's brows were furrowed in intense concentration, silently studying the instruction manual. Meanwhile, Jake grew more animated by the second, gesturing with tiny plastic bricks in his hand.

"That piece doesn't go there," Jay said flatly, not looking up.

Jake scoffed. "It's a spaceship. We can be creative."

"This isn't abstract expressionism, it's an architectural set. You can't just freestyle a spaceship onto a French café."

"It's called innovation," Jake replied, sticking the rogue brick in anyway with a triumphant grin.

You sipped your drink, amused, watching the war unfold.

But it didn't end with Lego. No, their domestic chaos knew no bounds.

Take cooking, for example.

It always started with innocent intentions—"Let's cook dinner together," Jake would chirp, and you'd foolishly think it was a good idea.

Until Jay started cutting the vegetables.

"You're cutting it wrong," Jake muttered one time, hovering behind him.

Jay paused, knife halfway through a carrot. "There's a wrong way to cut something into cubes?"

"Yeah," Jake said, grabbing another knife. "You're not respecting the angles. Look—like this."

Jay raised an eyebrow. "It's dinner,"

You tried to offer a diplomatic smile as both of them now had knives and were demonstrating their cutting styles with increasing passive-aggression. Jake's "angles" turned into tiny artistic cubes. Jay's "efficiency" turned into thick slices. And somehow, in the end, you were the one cleaning up carrot peels from the floor while both of them stood back, arms crossed, debating culinary theory.

They fought like cats in a paper bag over the most ridiculous things but it was all in good fun. It never lasted. The bickering always ended with Jay rolling his eyes, Jake kissing his cheek with an exaggerated mwah, and you sandwiched between the two of them, watching it all.

You loved it. You loved the chaos, the noise, the warmth of it all. And maybe, you thought, that's what love looked like for the three of you.

A little loud. A little messy. And just right.

Well, in every relationship, there comes a time when a little space becomes necessary. A moment to breathe, to realize that even when you move as a unit, sometimes individual paths need to unfold.

You hadn't realized how tightly the three of you had wound yourselves together, how naturally it had become "we" instead of "I" until now.

"You're not going to continue the internship?" you asked, blinking in surprise, staring at Jake.

Jake adjusted his glasses nervously, avoiding your gaze. You turned toward Jay, who stood silently halfway up the stairs, one hand braced on the railing. He met your gaze with a resigned shrug, as if he didn't have the right words either.

"You passed the exam," you said gently, trying to piece it together. "Jay's the only one assigned to a different clinic. Why, baby? Is something bothering you?"

Jake exhaled a long breath, his shoulders drooping. Without a word, he plopped onto the sofa, his lips pressing into a tight pout. Behind his glasses, you saw the familiar shimmer of tears. He was trying to keep it together, but his emotions betrayed him.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, voice cracking at the edges.

Your heart clenched painfully. You quickly sat down next to him, your hand instinctively reaching for his.

"Fifteen to twenty hours per week," you said softly, squeezing his hand. "We can do that. Are you... are you getting anxious again?"

You knew Jake's history with his own self-doubt, how sometimes he spiraled into believing he wasn't good enough no matter what he did. How the pressure to "keep up" gnawed at him until he felt hollow.

He hesitated for a long moment before finally speaking. "I don't think I like Psychology anymore," he admitted, his voice so small it barely made it to your ears.

"But Jake, it's only one year left—" The words stumbled out automatically, and the moment they left your mouth, you wished you could snatch them back.

Jake's face crumpled slightly, and you mentally slapped yourself. God, stupid. He doesn't need pressure. He needs understanding.

You exhaled shakily, leaning your forehead against his shoulder. "I'm sorry," you whispered. "I didn't mean that. You're allowed to change your mind. You're allowed to choose what's right for you."

Jay came down the stairs slowly, sitting on Jake's other side without a word. Jake sniffled, rubbing the sleeve of his hoodie against his nose. "I just feel like... like I'm failing," he mumbled.

"You're not failing," Jay said. "You're just being honest with yourself. That's a hell of a lot braver than forcing yourself to stay somewhere you don't belong."

You nodded against Jake's shoulder, feeling the truth of Jay's words settle deep in your chest.

Jake hiccupped a little laugh through his tears, shaking his head. His hands twisted nervously in the hem of his hoodie, and you hated the way he looked so small in that moment, like a boy trying too hard to be okay.

"I'm sorry," Jake whispered, his voice breaking again. "I know we planned everything. We talked about graduating together. About celebrating at the beach after..." His words trailed off, his eyes glossing over with more tears that slipped freely down his cheeks.

Without thinking, you reached up, adjusting his glasses with careful fingers, brushing the tears from his face. Your thumb swiped under his eyes gently.

"We can still do that," you said firmly, giving him the softest smile. "Graduation. The beach. All of it. Nothing has to change just because your path does."

Jake blinked at you, as if the possibility of still being loved, still being included, hadn't even crossed his mind. "You're not leaving us behind," you added, a little choked up yourself. "We're still doing everything, together. Always."

Jake let out a shaky breath, finally tipping forward, burying his face into the crook of your neck. His arms came around you tightly. Jay shifted closer, one large hand resting between Jake's shoulder blades, his other hand found yours where it rested against Jake's back, linking your fingers together.

You closed your eyes for a moment, overwhelmed by the swell in your chest. "I love you," you whispered, so quietly you weren't sure at first if they heard it.

Jake pulled back instantly, his eyes wide and stunned, still glistening with tears that clung stubbornly to his lashes.

"D-Did you just say you love me?!" he burst out, his voice wobbling, a new kind of shine lighting up his whole face.

You blinked at him, your own tears slipping down freely now. "Why?" you sniffed, wiping your nose clumsily. "Did I never say those words before?"

Jake immediately turned his head toward Jay, still clutching your hand, his whole body practically vibrating with emotion. "No! She never said it! Right, babe?"

Jay, who usually kept his emotions tucked neatly behind a cool exterior, looked just as rattled. He gave a small, stunned nod, his lips parting like he couldn't believe it either.

"Say it again!" Jake begged, bouncing a little in place. You laughed through your tears, your heart swelling, cracking wide open as you threw your arms around both of them.

"I love you!" you shouted, your voice ringing out.

Jake made a choked sound somewhere between a sob and a laugh, tackling you backward onto the couch, peppering kisses all over your cheeks, forehead, anywhere he could reach.

Jay leaned over you both, quieter but smiling that rare, soft smile you loved so much. He cupped your jaw, tilting your face up to meet his gaze.

"I love you too," he murmured, his thumb brushing tenderly across your cheek. "Both of you."

You had gotten so used to the three of you moving along the same path—same direction, same goals—that it almost felt foreign now to see it change.

But love wasn't about charging toward the same finish line at the same speed. It wasn't a race. It was about adjusting your pace, slowing down when someone needed more time, waiting without resentment, walking forward together even when the road split for a while.

And that was okay.

"So, he's planning on taking Physics now?" Sunoo mumbled around a mouthful of sandwich, crumbs spilling onto his sleeve as you walked together across the campus avenue, the late afternoon sun dipping low behind the buildings.

"Technically, he's not exactly back to being a first-year," Wonyoung pointed out, sipping on her milk tea as she balanced her phone in her other hand. "Most of his minor subjects are credited. He just has to take the major ones now."

"Irregular student life," Sunghoon grumbled beside Sunoo, gnawing on his chicken skewer. He squinted up at the sky like the very thought of coursework exhausted him. "He'll do fine though. He looks like the quiet, hardworking type."

Sunoo turned his head with a dramatic blink. "Silent? Who are you even talking about?"

"Jake? One of her boyfriends," Sunghoon said casually, waving his skewer toward you. "The one with the birthmark on his neck?"

You opened your mouth to correct him but Sunoo beat you to it, rolling his eyes so hard. "That's Jay, dumbass. Jake's the one who won't shut up about fucking Pokémon."

Wonyoung snorted into her drink, while you just laughed. They were teasing, sure. But there was something grounding about it, too. Like your relationship, no matter how unconventional, It was accepted without any weirdness among your closest friends.

Maybe that's what love looked like too. Not just inside the relationship, but outside of it—the way it wove itself into the spaces between you and the people you cared about.

You exhaled, a small, breathless laugh escaping you. "Sigh, I can't believe we're graduating," you said, shifting the strap higher on your shoulder as the four of you—Sunoo, Wonyoung, Sunghoon, and you—strolled toward the parking lot.

"I can't believe I survived without strangling a professor," Sunoo deadpanned, earning a chuckle from Wonyoung.

It was surreal. You still remembered crying in a ramen aisle. That version of you felt so far away now, like someone else entirely. Not because things were magically easy, but because you'd made it through, with them.

Time passed. Like it always does. Jay and you dove into your internships, different clinics, and long hours. Meanwhile, Jake transferred universities and somehow made himself busier, picking up part-time hours at a convenience store near campus, despite not needing the money.

"For experience," he'd said with a casual shrug when you asked. Then ruffled your hair and kissed your forehead before slipping out the door.

On a rainy Wednesday, you found yourself in Jay's apartment, the air filled with the scent of steak that he cooked and the faint hum of your laptop fan. You were standing behind him, your thumbs digging into his shoulders as he sat at the edge of the bed, posture slouched, brows drawn tight in pure exhaustion.

"Where are you even assigned?" you asked with your voice soft. "You look like you've been carrying the entire hospital on your back."

Jay groaned low in his throat as you hit a particularly stiff knot. His eyes fluttered closed, and he tilted his head slightly to the side. "Intake assessments and psych evaluations," he muttered. "A couple of the psychologists are already hinting they want me on the team."

You raised a brow, intrigued. "So... master's track?"

He tilted his chin up just enough to meet your gaze. "I don't know," he admitted. "Honestly? I only took psychology in the first place because I wanted to follow Jake. I never really had a plan past that."

Your hands slowed, thumbs stilling on his skin as you searched for the right words. Vulnerability wasn't something Jay handed out freely and it made this moment feel heavier, more fragile.

"You don't have to decide now," you said softly, stepping closer so your chest touched his back. "Let's just take the licensure exam together first. You can figure the rest out after."

Jay didn't say anything at first, but his hand reached up to find yours, his fingers lacing through yours in a quiet thank you. It was one of those moments where everything felt deeper than words.

You rested your cheek against his shoulder, wrapping your arms fully around him in a warm back hug. "It's been a while since we let ourselves just rest," you whispered, nuzzling gently into the curve of his neck. "Let's take it slow today."

Jay hummed in agreement, leaning into your touch. "We can go shopping tomorrow," he said after a beat. "Jake doesn't have class, and I noticed your skincare stash is pretty much empty."

You smiled against his skin, the corners of your mouth lifting. "I still have a few things left at the dorm."

"But not the good stuff," he teased, and you could hear the soft smile in his voice.

The next few months followed the same rhythm—routine, steady, exhausting. Your days blurred together in a cycle of early mornings and late shifts, and while your body pushed forward, it was starting to show the weight of everything. The kind of tired that sleep couldn't fix began to settle into your bones.

But at the end of every long day, there they were.

Jake stood at the edge of the sidewalk in his uniform, his name tag slightly crooked, his smile brighter than the streetlights flickering on around him. Jay leaned beside him in his white clinical coat.

Jake spotted you first, as always, and waved with both hands like he hadn't seen you in years.

And just like that, the heavy tiredness cracked open.

You smiled without even realizing it, quickening your pace as you crossed the street. Your bag slipped from your shoulder as your arms went around both of their necks, pulling them in close. You stood on your tiptoes, pressing your face into the space between their shoulders, breathing them in—Jake's warm scent of citrus and soap, Jay's subtle cologne and hospital linen.

Their arms wrapped around you instantly. You felt Jake press a kiss into your hair, heard Jay sigh softly as he pulled you in tighter.

"I missed you," Jake whispered, like he hadn't already texted you seventeen times that day.

You loved them. With every piece of your heart.

And finally. After everything, the sleepless nights, the breakdowns, the internships, and all the moments you wanted to quit—you stood here.

Your hair had grown down to your neck again, long enough for Sunoo to curl it into loose mermaid waves that bounced as you moved. You adjusted your toga, smoothing the fabric over your shoulders, and reapplied a layer of lip gloss while the ceremony rolled on in the background.

You glanced over your shoulder, eyes scanning the rows until they landed on him.

Jay was seated a few rows behind you, already in his cap and gown, his posture perfect as always. But when he noticed you looking, his expression softened. A small smile tugged at his lips, and he gave you a gentle wave. You couldn't help but grin back, lifting your hand to blow him a subtle, playful kiss. His ears turned pink almost instantly.

It still didn't feel real—graduation. But the weight of the cap on your head, the neat fold of the sash across your chest, and the buzzing excitement in the air around you made it sink in slowly. You did it. All of you did.

You'd earned Latin honors, your name printed in gold in the program. And Jay, unsurprisingly graduated as Magna Cum Laude, plus extra recognition for his work with a mental health advocacy organization.

The moment his name was called, the crowd burst into polite applause but that was completely drowned out by a very loud, very familiar voice near the back.

"THAT'S MY BOYFRIEND!!" Jake yelled, hands cupped around his mouth. Several heads turned. You laughed as you lifted your phone to capture the moment, zooming in to record Jay's furrowed brows and flushed ears as he made his way across the stage with practiced composure, pretending not to hear Jake's scream.

When the ceremony ended, you barely made it a few feet outside the venue before you were tackled into a tight, warm hug.

"Congrats, my lovers!!!" Jake beamed, pulling both you and Jay into his arms. He squeezed tightly before finally pulling back and grinning from ear to ear.

"Tadaaa!" he sang, revealing a bouquet in each hand—peonies and sunflowers for you, and a crisp arrangement of white roses and eucalyptus for Jay.

Jay shook his head with a small laugh, eyes fond as he accepted the flowers. You blinked against the sting of happy tears, clutching yours to your chest.

"Thank you, I love you," you sobbed, planting a loud kiss on his cheek.

"I love you more," he whined, hugging you back and forth.

"Sunoo! Take a picture of us!" Jake shouted, still hugging you.

A few steps ahead, Sunoo didn't even turn around—his face crumpled with exasperation as he raised a middle finger in your direction. Jake was still clinging to you, and Jay was trying to untangle himself from the three-way hug without knocking anyone over.

"Sunoo, please!" you called between giggles, clutching your bouquet in one hand and trying to shove Jake off with the other. "Come on, just one picture!"

Sunoo finally turned around, his expression the perfect blend of annoyance and affection. "You're all disgusting," he muttered, but he was already pulling his phone from his pocket, lining up the shot.

"Okay! Say 'I wasted my youth on a degree I'll never use!'"

You laughed and tugged Jake into the middle. Jay slid an arm around Jake's shoulder while you leaned in from the other side, flashing a peace sign and pouting your lips just in time for the shutter.

For the next pose, Jake was the one to yank you into the center. You wrapped your arms around both of them, grinning at the camera. Right as the second flash went off, they leaned in at the same time, planting kisses on both of your cheeks.

Sunoo made a dramatic gagging noise behind the camera, but you were too caught off guard to react—until a wide smile broke across your face. You lifted your hands, cupping their jaws gently, holding them there as if to say: stay. Stay in this moment.

Just like they'd plan for your upcoming anniversary, Jay and Jake had organized a trip to the beach.

And, of course, Sunoo was coming too.

"Bitch, I am not going to sit with you," Sunoo scoffed, rolling his eyes as he hauled his tote bag into the car.

"Well, Jay's driving, and I'm more of a backseat guy anyway," Jake said with a lazy grin, already adjusting his neck pillow. "If you want the front so bad, go ahead."

"No way, dude!" Sunoo scrunched his nose, then reached forward to tug your hair playfully as you buckled yourself into the passenger seat.

"Please, sit beside me!" he whined dramatically.

Jay leaned over to adjust your seatbelt, giving it a final click before gently brushing his fingers over your shoulder. You tilted your head to glance at the two of them in the backseat.

"It's only a three-hour drive," you said gently. "You'll survive."

Sunoo leaned back in the seat with a sigh, arms crossed, his face scrunched up. "Three hours in a moving tin can with him?" he muttered, jabbing a thumb toward Jake. "Barely."

Jay started the engine with a quiet sigh, already bracing himself. The soft murmur of the playlist filled the car as you pulled onto the open road, the city gradually melting into stretches of sun-washed highway and scattered trees.

For a few blissful minutes, the car was calm. Then, predictably, Jake opened his mouth.

"So," he began, sitting up a little straighter. "Did you guys know that if you accelerate fast enough, time literally moves slower for you? Like, time dilation."

You looked over your shoulder with raised brows. "Here we go."

"No, no—listen! Think about it. If Jay drives fast enough, like, close to the speed of light fast—then technically this three-hour trip would feel way shorter for him than for us."

"Except we'd all be dead because we'd vaporize before hitting Mach 1," Sunoo muttered under his breath, pulling his hoodie up over his head. "God, why are you like this?"

"But just imagine," Jake went on, eyes sparkling. "If we had a car that could do that. Like, space road trips. Time gets all wibbly. Three hours for us could be ten years for someone else. We could be out here vibing to music and come back to Earth and everything's changed."

Jay stared forward in silence, his grip on the wheel tightening fractionally.

"Jake," he said, voice low. "Please stop talking about bending time while I'm trying to figure out which exit to take."

You bit your lip, trying not to laugh. "Is this your subtle way of saying we should be grateful Jay drives us through time and space at a safe 90 kilometers an hour?"

"Exactly!" Jake said brightly. "He's basically our chauffeur and a physics miracle."

Jay let out a long, slow exhale. "If I start accelerating at light speed, it's going to be straight into a wall."

Jake gasped. "That's momentum, babe."

Sunoo groaned louder this time, slapping a hand over his face.

When the three of you finally arrived at the beachside hotel, the sun was already dipping low on the horizon, casting streaks of amber and rose across the ocean.

You'd booked a one-room suite that came with a connected layout—two separate bedrooms, one shared living space, and a wide balcony overlooking the waves.

Without hesitation, you decided to bunk with Sunoo. After all, you were the one who insisted he come along in the first place. You didn't want him feeling like a fourth wheel. Jake had whined dramatically when you made the decision, slumping onto the couch with his arms flung over his face.

But the moment Sunoo turned to glare at him, Jake shut up immediately.

"Wow," Sunoo gasped as he threw his overnight bag onto the nearest bed. "How much did you spend on this? This is fucking luxurious!"

He flopped down like a satisfied cat, legs in the air, starfish-style, bouncing on the mattress.

You dropped your backpack near the dresser and laughed. "I don't know. I tried to give Jay money for it, but he just told me not to worry about it. Said he'd take care of everything."

Sunoo sat up, his expression half-impressed, half-scandalized. "I know he's rich—but this rich?"

You walked over to the vanity and opened one of the drawers, expecting it to be empty. It wasn't. It was stocked with complimentary skincare in glass jars that looked expensive. You didn't even recognize the brand.

"Yeah," you muttered with a shake of your head. "He's always been kind of... low-key about it."

And it was true. Jay never talked much about money, or his family, or what exactly his parents did. You knew it was something in finance, he'd mentioned it in passing once, but never with any detail. Not that you pried. That wasn't really your thing, and he always had this quiet way of changing the subject that made it clear there were lines he didn't want to cross.

You'd only met his father twice. Once at some formal dinner event where you weren't even introduced as his girlfriend—just as Jay's "close friend," which, at the time, didn't bother you as much as it probably should have. The second time had been more casual, a short visit when his father was in town.

You knew Jake's family ran a business too—something equally stable, equally well-off. Money had never been a problem for either of them. You'd met Jake's mother once, and she'd been warm and lively, like him.  His older brother, you'd spoken with more than a few times—he went to the same university as you, and was easy to talk to, open in a way that made Jake's background feel a little less distant.

You opened the sliding door to the balcony, just to breathe in the sea air. Below, people were still wandering the shoreline, some with towels slung over their shoulders, others in flip-flops with dripping ice cream cones.

You leaned your forearms on the railing and exhaled, breathing deep, your thoughts drifted somewhere you usually avoided: your family.

You trusted them. They weren't conservative. Not in a way that would ever make you feel unsafe. But still... you couldn't help but wonder how it would go. Really go.

Introducing Jay and Jake as both of your boyfriend? Something about that still made your stomach twist, not because it felt wrong, but because it was different. Not a lie. Just not the kind of story your parents would expect to hear over dinner.

You imagined it. Sitting across the table. Your mom would probably ask how school was, then what Jay was majoring in, then what Jake was doing after graduation. Then maybe, when the moment came, you'd say it—"they're both my boyfriends."

You winced at the thought, fingers tightening slightly on the railing. It wasn't shame, it wasn't even fear, not really. It was that strange vulnerability, the kind that comes when you love something so much, you're terrified to watch someone else misunderstand it.

You closed your eyes for a moment, letting the wind thread through your hair. Maybe not now. Maybe not yet. But eventually, you'd have to tell them. Eventually, you'd have to share this part of your world.

"Hey."

Your eyes fluttered open at the familiar voice. You turned your head to find Jay standing just inside the doorway, backlit by the warm light of the room. Behind him, you caught a glimpse of Jake barging in, already diving onto the bed with zero regard for personal space, promptly tugging at Sunoo's legs and earning a dramatic scream in return.

You smiled, the kind that bloomed slow and soft, turning back toward the sea. "Hey," you echoed.

You felt Jay step closer, then, warm arms circled your waist from behind. His chin came to rest lightly on top of your head, and you leaned back into his chest without thinking

"Are you okay?" he murmured, soft enough for just you to hear. "Do you like it?"

"Of course," you said with a small laugh, tilting your head slightly to brush against him. "I love it, Jay. Thank you."

His nose nudging gently into your hair before his lips pressed the lightest kiss to your temple. The kind that made everything pause for just a second. The kind that left your heart fluttering.

Even now—after a year of being with them—this feeling hadn't faded.

That sweet, silly rush in your stomach. It was all still there. Still new, still dizzying in the best way.

Jay held you a little closer, his thumbs stroking slow circles against your sides. Behind you, Jake's cackling echoed through the room as Sunoo threatened to throw him off the balcony.

A minute later, Jake came barreling out onto the balcony, full of loud energy and bright eyes. Without warning, he wrapped you in a rough, bouncing hug and started peppering kisses all over your face—forehead, cheek, nose, chin, each one louder and messier than the last.

You squealed in protest through your laughter, half-heartedly trying to push him away, but Jake only grinned wider. Jay let out a small chuckle and pulled him in too, arms closing around both of you. He kissed the top of Jake's head, then yours. And just barely, beneath the breath of the breeze and the rustle of waves below, you heard him whisper:

"I love you. Both of you."

Since the sun was already beginning its slow descent, the four of you decided to wander the local beach town and hunt down some fresh seafood. It should've been easy, but nothing ever was when it came to your group.

It was, well—how would you describe it? Chaotic. Definitely chaotic.

Because somehow, none of you knew how to properly eat lobster. Except Jay. Of course Jay did. He sat there effortlessly cracking shells and separating the meat for the three of you. Meanwhile, Jake had nearly launched half his shrimp into Sunoo's lap.

By the end of the night, your table was covered in seafood scraps, crumpled napkins, and three different sauces spilled onto your pants. You wouldn't have changed a thing.

The next morning arrived, you'd planned this day from the start—beach time.

Down by the shore, the sun was still soft in the sky, the sand warm beneath bare feet. Sunoo and Jake were already out on a big inflatable air bed, lazily drifting in the shallows, drinks in hand and sunglasses slightly too big for their faces.

Jay had volunteered to stay on the beach, a towel draped over his lap, focused on a portable grill he'd set up in the shade of a beach umbrella. He was flipping skewers of marinated meat and pineapple slices.

You had your body half in the water, arms hooked over the edge of the air bed, letting yourself float lazily beside it. The sun warmed your back, and you listened with half a smile to the conversation between the two clowns above you.

"I still don't understand how you can't swim," Sunoo said, voice shaded with judgment.

"I can swim," Jake replied. "I just... choose not to, for safety reasons."

"You panic the moment your feet don't touch sand!"

"Which is a valid fear, Sunoo! Ever heard of deep sea creatures?"

You rolled your eyes fondly and, with a quiet grin, began gently pushing the air bed farther out from the shore with your arms. Inch by inch. They didn't notice at first.

"H-Huh? Where are you taking us?!" Sunoo suddenly sat up, eyes darting to the now noticeably deeper blue beneath him. "I can't see clear water anymore!"

Jake peeked over the edge, alarm rising in his voice. "H-Hey! T-This isn't funny!"

You couldn't help but laugh, water sloshing against your shoulders. "Relax, we're still like twenty feet from the shore."

"Twenty feet too many!" Sunoo snapped. "Turn this raft around or I'm throwing Jake into the sea and sacrificing him to Poseidon."

"Excuse me?!" Jake gasped. "We made friendship bracelets yesterday!"

"I've already cut mine off," Sunoo declared with no hesitation.

You snorted, pulling the float gently back toward the beach as Jake and Sunoo continued bickering above you.

The rest of the day passed in a soft, golden blur. Jake and Sunoo spent most of it constructing a ridiculous, over-the-top sandcastle complete with seashell gates and a moat that kept getting trampled by passing kids. You stuck close to Jay, helping him with the food, handing him skewers and snacks while sneaking bites every time he wasn't looking.

Since Jake and Sunoo both flat-out refused to venture into deeper water, you and Jay decided to try something a little more thrilling: the banana boat.

Your heart pounded with excitement as you slathered sunscreen across Jay's back, he stood still beneath your touch. You gave his shoulder a playful squeeze before pulling your hands away and practically bouncing toward the dock, already grinning.

Clad in your two-piece swimsuit and secured in a bright life jacket, you tugged off your beach shorts and tossed them into the pile of bags before climbing onto the giant inflatable banana, you gripped the side handles for balance.

Jay climbed on right behind you. You felt the boat shift under his weight as he settled into place and then, as expected, his arms slipped around your waist, tugging you flush against him.

You turned your head just enough to catch his face over your shoulder, raising a brow. "Hey," you said, teasing. "Your hands should be on the boat, not on me."

Jay gave you that infuriatingly soft, crooked grin of his. "They'll get there," he murmured, but his hands lingered a second longer—fingers trailing gently along your ribs, dangerously close to your chest—before finally letting go and grabbing the side handles.

You gave a dramatic sigh, rolling your eyes, but you couldn't stop the smile that tugged at your lips.

The instructor gave a thumbs-up from the front, and moments later, the speedboat roared to life, tugging the banana boat forward in a sudden burst. You shrieked with laughter as the inflatable jerked forward, bouncing across the waves like a bucking bronco.

Salt spray hit your face. The wind whipped past your ears. Behind you, Jay's laughter rang out, arms tightening around your waist every time you caught air.

The boat twisted, turned sharply, and for a moment you were sure you'd fly off. But Jay held on, and you did too, screaming and laughing.

By the time it slowed, you were breathless, soaked to the bone, and still grinning like a fool. You turned slightly, cheeks flushed, and met Jay's gaze. His hair was plastered to his forehead, and his eyes were shining.

"I want to go again," he said, already leaning in to kiss your cheek.

You smacked him lightly on the arm. "Hands on the boat, remember?"

He just laughed.

Later that evening, with dinner long over and the sky outside dark, you ended up sprawled in the other room with Jake, watching a random thriller movie on TV.

Jake's head rested comfortably on your chest, his arms lazily wrapped around your waist. Your fingers combed idly through his hair as your eyes stayed fixed on the screen.

"The fuck?! So he's the killer all along?!" Jake sat up a little, his voice loud.

You barely bit back a laugh, already expecting the outburst. "It was all in his head," you said calmly, brushing a stray strand of hair away from his face. "He's addicted to propofol. It's one of those unreliable narrator things."

Jake groaned like the world betrayed him. "This movie is a scam. We wasted two hours for a hallucination ending?"

"You watched it on hotel cable," you pointed out.

But Jake didn't respond. A few minutes later, you realized his breathing had evened out, and soft snores were puffing against your shirt. You looked down to find him completely passed out, you smiled softly.

The bathroom door clicked open, and Jay stepped out, hair damp and towel slung over his shoulder. He paused at the doorway, eyes softening when he saw the scene on the bed. Then he crossed the room, leaned over, and pressed a kiss to your lips.

"I think I need to join Sunoo," you whispered, careful not to disturb the sleeping Jake.

Jay's hand slipped around your waist as he climbed into bed beside you. "Can you stay a little longer?" he murmured, pulling you close without even shifting Jake.

You chuckled, forehead resting briefly against his. "I'm already tired. Why? You're acting needy today, hmm?"

He smiled faintly, shaking his head, and leaned in to kiss your neck. His lips traced a path up toward your jaw, each kiss a little more lingering than the last.

"Not needy," he said softly. "Just... wanting to hold you both a little longer."

Eventually, after a long minute of coaxing and playful protest, Jay finally let you go but not before you caught the way his gaze lingered as you slipped out the door, like he was already thinking about pulling you right back in. Jay was usually calm, it was Jake who would've actually pouted and clung to your arm if denied his nightly cuddles.

You quietly padded across the hall and slipped into the other room. Sunoo was already passed out on the bed, one leg kicked free from the blanket, a silky eye mask perfectly in place despite his softly parted lips and gentle snores.

With a quiet sigh, you crawled into bed next to him and let the weight of the day sink into the mattress. The room was cool and quiet, and eventually, your eyes fluttered shut.

But somewhere in the blur between dreams and the gentle pull of sleep, you felt the bed shift behind you.

An arm slid around your waist, pulling you gently back against a solid chest.

You hummed softly, eyes still half-lidded as you turned your head slightly, blinking against the dim glow from the room.

"Jay?" you whispered, voice scratchy with sleep.

Jay pressed closer, nuzzling into the curve of your neck. His hand drifted over your waist and down to your stomach, fingers brushing the hem of your shirt before slipping underneath.

"What's wrong?" you murmured, trying to sound stern, but your voice was too soft. You risked a glance toward Sunoo, still blissfully asleep and completely unaware. Then your gaze returned to Jay, whose lips now grazed your shoulder.

"Nothing," he said quietly.

But his hand told a different story. It moved slowly beneath your shirt, calloused fingertips gliding across the bare skin of your stomach, tracing idle shapes.

You exhaled a quiet breath, lips parting slightly. "Jay..." you warned.

"Sorry," he murmured, but the apology was quickly eclipsed by the press of his lips to your neck. His mouth moved, grazing the sensitive skin just below your ear. Then his hand shifted upward. You sucked in a quiet gasp when his palm brushed over your breast, fingers curling to cup it gently.

"Jay, s-stop," you whispered again, glancing anxiously toward Sunoo. He had turned in his sleep, now facing away, the soft rise and fall of his breathing steady and undisturbed.

Jay's hand didn't still. "I miss you," he breathed, thumb teasing over your nipple in a slow, deliberate flick that made your back subtly arch against him. His other hand tightened around your waist, pulling you closer until you could feel him pressed against you, the firm outline in his sweatpants grinding lightly against your hips.

"It's been so long," he murmured.

And it had. Between the internships, late-night assignments, and Jake's nonstop academic grind, the three of you had barely touched each other in weeks.

But you hadn't expected Jay to be the one like this tonight. He was always the composed one, the patient one. Jake was usually the one who gave in first, always craving touch, always clinging. Jay had control.

Usually.

"Jay, wait..." you whispered, your voice a rushed hush as you felt his other hand slipping lower, beneath the waistband of your shorts. His fingers moved slow, grazing over your folds, teasing the delicate skin. A low breath escaped him the moment he felt how wet you already were.

You swallowed, pulse quickening.

"I've been so horny all day thinking 'bout you," he whispered. That quiet, whiny edge in his tone made your core clench instinctively

Maybe it was the softness of his voice, or the fact that it was Jay who is usually so composed, now whispering filthy truths into your ear.

His fingers traced the seam of your labia, before one slowly pushed inside. You whimpered at the stretch, your walls clenching around him as your body instinctively responded. Despite the risky position, your legs parted a little wider under the sheets, silently begging for more.

"Please," he whispered, voice tinged with that desperate, breathy edge that made your heart race.

You tilted your head, meeting his mouth with yours, pressing your lips to his. He moaned against you, his mouth parting eagerly to deepen the kiss. His tongue slid past your lips matching the rhythm of his finger as it began to move—slowly thrusting in and out, curling just enough to make you shiver.

The kiss grew messier as his hand worked between your thighs. Your breaths tangled. Every quiet sound you made, he swallowed with his mouth.

Jay pressed closer against your back, his body molding to yours, breath hot against your cheek. Then he broke the kiss, slowly pulling his finger from your core, his eyes locked on yours the entire time. You whimpered when you saw him bring it to his lips, slipping it into his mouth.

He exhaled, clearly it wasn't enough. Then, without a word, he sat up and carefully lifted you into his arms.

You instinctively wrapped your arms around his neck, legs curling slightly as he carried you out of the room.

By the time he stepped into the other room, Jake was still sound asleep—sprawled out, one arm flung across the pillow.

Jay laid you down gently on the bed, his hands lingering on your sides. "Been thinking about eating this pussy ever since you wore that damn swimsuit," he whispered.

Before you could reply, he was already tugging your shorts down, exposing the heat between your thighs. The rush of cool air on your skin made your back arch, a soft gasp slipping from your lips.

"I think we're gonna wake Jake up," you whispered, voice breathless.

Jay was already on his knees. He hooked your legs over his shoulders, fingers curling around your thighs to keep them parted. Slowly, he leaned in and licked a long, slow stripe up your folds.

Your hips jerked at the contact, a moan slipping from your mouth. You reached down, fingers sinking into his hair, holding on as he buried himself deeper between your legs.

"Missed eating this pretty pussy," Jay groaned into you, he tilted his head slightly, adjusting the angle as he dragged his tongue in slow circles, then pushed it inside, the wet heat of it driving you mad.

You clung to him, biting your lip hard to stifle the sounds threatening to escape, but it was getting harder—impossible, even. Your body trembled beneath his mouth, hips shifting uncontrollably as Jay devoured you without pause.

He alternated between slow, languid licks and deep, greedy sucks, lapping up every bit of your arousal, then going back to swirling his tongue.

You tried to stay still, but it was too much. You couldn't stop moving, hips jerking. Every time you gasped, every time your legs twitched, Jay just held on tighter.

At your side, Jake stirred slightly in his sleep, mumbling something incoherent as he shifted. You froze for a beat, heart pounding then another sharp flick of Jay's tongue made your hips buck again.

"I'm cumming," you breathed out in a desperate whisper, thighs shaking. Your hands gripped the sheets as your hips tried to rise off the bed, but Jay only pressed you down harder, his palms firm on your waist, pinning you in place as he buried his face deeper into your cunt.

"Jay—Jay, I'm cumming, I'm cumming—" you sobbed, unable to stop the way your body trembled violently beneath him. He groaned at your words, grinding his nose against your clit, tongue plunging and swirling until the pressure snapped all at once.

Your back arched, eyes rolling back as your orgasm surged through you. The scream that left your lips was silent, lost somewhere in your chest, trapped between needing release and needing to stay quiet.

Jay didn't stop. Even as your thighs trembled and your whole body clenched around the pleasure, he kept licking, drinking you in, chasing every last drop while your limbs went slack around him.

"J-Jay... stop," you whimpered, voice cracking from the overstimulation. "Stop for a minute, p-please..."

You could barely breathe. The pleasure had gone white-hot, your body sensitive, twitching with every flick of his tongue.

Finally, he slowed. His mouth softened, his tongue easing into gentle strokes until he stilled completely.

He pressed one last kiss to your inner thigh before rising slowly, crawling up your body. His hands pushed your shirt up to your collarbone, and his lips followed, kissing along your stomach, trailing upward until he reached your chest.

He caught your nipple between his lips, tongue flicking softly as he sucked. Your fingers tangled weakly in his hair, still dazed.

Then his mouth moved higher, brushing along your collarbone, up the line of your throat, until he finally captured your lips.

You taste yourself while kissing him, tongue desparately shoving down to yours, only adding to the intensity as his tongue moved with yours.

Without breaking the kiss, he shifted your position, gently guiding you onto your side. Now spooning you from behind, he pressed flush against you, the heat of him seeping into your skin as his thigh tucked between yours.

You glanced at Jake who was still fast asleep.

Jay exhaled against your neck, then reached down with one hand to push his sweatpants just low enough to free himself. You felt him, hot and hard, nudging against your backside. A shiver ran through you as his hand slid along your inner thigh, coaxing it forward, lifting just enough to open you to him. You instinctively pressed your hips back, the thick weight of his cock nestling against your folds.

"Jay," you breathed, tilting your head. Your foreheads touched, noses brushing as his hand slid up to cup your breast, thumb brushing over your nipple in slow, teasing circles.

"Keep your eyes on me, baby," he whispered. Your lashes fluttered as he ground his cock slowly against your center, dragging it along your slit without entering.

"We're gonna wake Jake up," you repeated, forehead still pressed to his, breath mingling.

Jay just smiled, the curve of his lips brushing your cheek as he whispered back, "It's okay... he can join anyway."

Before you could respond, his hips shifted and the thick head of his cock pressed into your entrance. Your mouth fell open, a gasp escaping as he filled you in one smooth, unhurried thrust. The stretch was full. You dug your nails into his forearm where it wrapped around your waist

He kissed you again, catching your breath with his mouth as he began to move, slow at first, each roll of his hips drawing a quiet moan from your throat. His hand never left your breast, kneading gently, thumb circling and flicking your sensitive peak in rhythm with his thrusts.

You broke the kiss, eyes half-lidded, both of you breathing heavily now, sharing the same air, bodies locked together as his pace gradually built.

He pulled out until only his tip remained, then pushed back in harder, hips snapping forward with more pressure.

"Ahhh!"

"Wanna go rough," he muttered against your neck. His eyes fluttered shut for a second, his grip tightening. "Can I? You'd like that, right, baby? Right?"

You nodded, unable to form words.

A low, needy moan left his throat as he picked up the pace, his thrusts turns faster and deeper. The soft mattress bounced beneath you with every movement, muffling the sound but not the intensity. You gripped the sheets, trying to stay quiet, but the way he filled you, the way his cock dragged perfectly along every inch of your walls—it was too much.

"Fuck," he groaned, burying his face in your shoulder.

"Jaaay..." you gasped out his name, drawing it long and needy as pleasure pulsed through you.

His grip on your thigh shifted, releasing only to find your hand, fingers lacing with yours as he gently pushed your upper body forward, angling your hips just right. You followed without resistance, the motion letting him reach even deeper.

Then he hit it—that spot—and your mouth fell open in a silent cry.

Your eyes fluttered shut, lip caught between your teeth as your body clenched around him. You could hear the sharp breath he sucked in behind you, the tremble in his exhale as you tightened.

He was getting close. You could feel it in the way his rhythm faltered for a second.

"Good, baby?" he whispered against your ear, that soft, breathy tone he only used when he was holding back.

You smiled through another moan, the sound catching in your throat as you tilted your head slightly to find his lips. The kiss was short, a sweet, heated peck that melted into a soft whimper as he thrust into you again.

"Yes," you breathed, barely able to get the words out. "So good—haah—so deep..."

Jay rested his forehead against the back of your head, lips brushing your hair as he kept moving.

Jay pulled out. Your brows knit in confusion, lips parting, but Jay was already grabbing your hips, repositioning you. He dragged you to the edge of the bed, bending you forward as he laid you across Jake's sleeping form. Your back arched instinctively as your body adjusted to the shift.

"Wake him," Jay murmured as he settled behind you again, his hands spreading your cheeks.

You fumbled with Jake's pajama waistband, tugging both the fabric and his boxers down until his cock— still soft but stirring was exposed to the cool air.

Jay's fingers brushed against your rim. "You clean here?" he asked, his thumb circling the sensitive entrance.

A soft, involuntary whimper left your lips, your hips twitching backward toward his touch. You leaned down, pressing a trail of kisses along the length of Jake's cock, feeling it twitch beneath your lips.

"Answer me, baby," Jay said, punctuating the demand with a slap to your ass. The sharp sting made you flinch.

"Yes! I—I clean every day," you gasped.

Jay groaned in frustration. "Fuck. No lube."

You glanced over your shoulder to see him already sinking to his knees behind you.

He didn't hesitate—his tongue found your rim and began working. You moaned, body trembling as your knees weakened under the heat of his mouth.

You returned your attention to Jake, licking along the underside of his shaft up to the tip. He shifted slightly beneath you, a quiet sound escaping him, not yet fully awake but already growing hard in your mouth.

Jay's tongue pressed in deeper, spit slicking your rim as he worked you open. You groaned around Jake's cock, the vibration sending a jolt through him. His hips jerked upward instinctively, pushing his now-hard length deeper past your lips.

You took him in greedily, eyes fluttering shut as you pushed your ass back into Jay's face.

Jay stood suddenly, spreading your cheeks wide and guiding himself into your slick pussy with one firm thrust.

"Hmmph!" Your body jolted, a strangled moan escaping around Jake's cock. Jay grabbed your hips again, this time angling your body forward just enough to press your mouth deeper onto Jake's shaft, brushing the back of your throat.

Jake stirred fully now, groggy eyes blinking open.

He felt it first—the wet heat of your mouth wrapped around his cock and then he saw it.

Jay was behind you, fucking you, your body sandwiched between them, head bobbing in his lap.

Jake's stomach tightened at the sight. Jay looked up at him and grinned.

"Hey, baby," he said smoothly, driving in harder, making you moan louder and push yourself down even further on Jake's cock.

Jake reached out, still dazed but growing harder by the second, brushing a hand through your hair as your moans vibrated around him.

"G'evening...?" he mumbled, voice hoarse with confusion and arousal. He gently tugged you off his cock, watching a thin strand of saliva stretch from your lips to his tip.

Behind you, Jay didn't stop. He bent lower, lips brushing the back of your shoulder as he licked his middle finger, eyes locked on the tight ring of muscle between your cheeks. Slowly, he pressed his finger to your rim, circling once before slipping inside.

You jolted at the intrusion, hips twitching against him, a gasp escaping your lips. Jay didn't stop thrusting—he just matched the rhythm of his cock with the push of his finger, stretching you gradually, his free hand gripping your waist to hold you in place as you writhed beneath them both.

Jake shifted on the bed, pushing himself upright onto his knees, positioning himself in front of you. His hand wrapped around his cock, pumping slowly as he brought it back to your mouth.

"You want it back, sweetheart?" Jake asked softly, he tapped the head of his cock against your lips, smearing pre-cum along your mouth.

You opened willingly, tongue flicking out to taste him, your moan muffled as he slid back in. Jake groaned, hips twitching as your lips sealed around him again.

Jay curled his finger inside you, pushing deeper, and your whole body tensed at the double sensation — your throat filled with Jake's cock, your ass stretching slowly around Jay's finger as he fucked you with deep, rolling thrusts.

Jake leaned forward, hands gripping the curve of your ass as he spread you open wider, eyes fixed on the way you pulsed around Jay's fingers. He exhaled a shaky breath, mouth slightly parted.

Jay slipped a second finger inside you, the added stretch pulling a sharp gasp from your lips. It burned just enough to make your eyes sting but you didn't ask them to stop.

Because you missed this. Missed the ache, the fullness, the way they both used your body for their pleasure.

Moans overlapped in the room, Jay's soft growls as he felt you tighten around his fingers, Jake's ragged gasps as your mouth moved faster, your head bobbing on his cock.

You arched deeper, forcing yourself further onto Jake's length, the wet sounds of your mouth and their breathing tangled with the slap of skin and the creak of the bed. Your throat flexed as you took him in, your tongue working along the underside of his shaft, matching the pace of Jay's fingers stretching you open.

Jay slowed his thrusts behind you, his breath hitching as he reached the edge again, hips grinding into your ass with just enough pressure to keep himself teetering. Edging on purpose.

He looked up, meeting Jake's eyes over the curve of your back. Jake leaned forward, their mouths crashing together in a kiss that was anything but gentle. Teeth and tongue crashing.

Their bodies moved in tandem—Jay driving into you again and each push sent you forward, impaling your mouth on Jake's cock.

Jay's fingers slid out just as his cock pushed deeper inside. Jake's hand cupped the back of your head, guiding your rhythm, his hips snapping forward in short bursts, each one pushing into the tight heat of your throat.

"Ahh, fuck. Jay," Jake groaned, breaking the kiss. His breath fanned across Jay's cheek as he leaned in, trailing kisses down the side of Jay's neck. His lips found skin, then teeth followed, scraping lightly before soothing with his tongue.

Your lungs screamed for air. The pressure at the back of your throat blurred into dizzying deprivation, your nails scraped down Jake's thigh to signal him.

Jake pulled back in an instant, your lips slipping from his cock with a wet gasp. He leaned down, catching your mouth in a kiss. His hand cradled your jaw, wiping a trail of drool from your chin with his thumb.

Your chest heaved against the mattress, breath coming in stuttering bursts. Your vision swam, lashes heavy, lips swollen. You could feel your body moving but your mind floated, clinging to the feeling rather than the shape of it.

Jay groaned, breath shuddering as he pulled out, only to grip your hips hard enough to bruise—and drive himself into your ass with one single, brutal thrust.

"Ahhhh! Fuck!" Your scream tore through the room, your body convulsing under the intrusion.

Jay groaned loudly behind you. Your legs trembled, toes curling tight as pain bloomed through your spine. Tears spilled without permission, streaking hot down your cheeks.

"Hey... still with us?" Jake's voice broke through the haze.

He knelt beside you, brushing your hair out of your face, his lips soft against the damp trail of your tears. He kissed you again, slower this time, anchoring you as you shook beneath them both.

Jay bent over you, his chest pressed to your back. He nuzzled into the crook of your neck, lips peppering kisses across your skin, his cock twitching deep inside your ass. His breath was ragged.

"Sorry, baby," he whispered, moving one hand up from your hip to your breast, cupping it gently. His thumb circled your nipple while the other hand steadied you. "Shhh... I got you. Just breathe."

But your lips trembled, a sob slipping through as you buried your face in the sheets. It hurt. Your body throbbed from the stretch, the shock of how deep he was, how sudden. Jake caught your hand, holding it gently, kissing the back of your palm.

"Talk to me," he said softly. "Does it hurt?"

You nodded, tears still falling, throat too tight to speak.

Jay froze. "I'm sorry," he whispered again. His hands softened, his hips still. He leaned back a little, pulling out carefully, guilt etched in every line of his body.

"No!" your voice cracked out, panicked, reaching blindly behind you. Your fingers curled around his hip, clutching. "D-Don't stop... I... I can take it."

Jake's brows furrowed, watching your face closely. "You sure?" he murmured, his thumb brushing along your wrist, eyes locked to yours.

You nodded, swallowing down the ache. "Please."

Jay didn't move yet. He stayed pressed close, his forehead resting against your spine, just breathing with you. Slowly, he guided his cock back, sliding just the tip inside before pausing. His hand smoothed over your side, your ribs, your hip.

"Okay," he breathed. "We go slow this time."

And when he pushed back in, it was careful, patient—his hands trembling with restraint as you stretched around him again.

And despite the sting, the burn, your body opened for him.

Jake leaned in and kissed you, his tongue teased your bottom lip, then slid past it. His hand cradled your jaw, tilting your face just the way he liked it, deepening the kiss as your mouth opened willingly for him.

Behind you, Jay didn't stop moving. His hips kept a slow, steady rhythm as he fucked into your ass, stretching you open all over again. You didn't expect the sudden shift not when he slipped free and thrust himself into your soaked pussy without warning. Your whole body jolted at the change, a moan catching in your throat, only to be swallowed by Jake's mouth.

Jay didn't stay there. He pulled out, slick with your arousal, and pushed back into your ass. You cried out into Jake's mouth, fingers digging into his shoulders as Jay started alternating between your holes, back and forth.

His groans grew louder with each pass, his cock coated with your slickness making the transitions smooth. Every thrust into your ass felt deeper now,  and once he was satisfied with the slickness, he stayed there—burying himself fully and starting to fuck you.

Your moans were helplessly muffled against Jake's lips. You clung to him as your body rocked from the force of Jay's pace, the bed creaking under the rhythm of their bodies working in sync.

Then Jay moved. His arms wrapped around your torso, lifting you effortlessly off Jake, carrying you as though you weighed nothing.

Jake fell back onto the bed, cock still hard and slick between his thighs, stroking himself as he watched Jay position you above him. Your body trembled in Jay's grip, your breath coming in fast, erratic gasps, eyes glassy and unfocused.

"Still with us?" Jake asked. His gaze locked onto your flushed face as he slowly fisted his cock, watching your lips part in a silent moan.

You tried to nod but squealed instead as Jay shifted behind you—straightening your spine, pulling you tight to his chest. And then Jake pressed the tip of his cock into your entrance, pushing into your dripping pussy.

Your hands were caught behind your back in Jay's grip, leaving you fully exposed, you gasped as Jake bottomed out inside you.

"God, so tight," Jake groaned as his hands slid up your belly, caressing the trembling muscles beneath your skin.

Jay held you steady, arms firm around your waist, as Jake began moving—rocking into you, using your slick heat to guide each stroke. Your hips rolled with his rhythm, your moans turning to desperate little gasps as you felt yourself being tugged and used like a doll between them.

Jay hissed behind you, resting his forehead against your shoulder. "Missed this," he growled, though he stopped his hips, letting Jake take over the motion for now, letting himself feel you clench around both of them with every bounce of your body.

Your head lolled back onto Jay's shoulder, mouth open in a silent scream as Jake's cock drove up into you from below, and Jay's cock filled your ass to the hilt.

And then Jay started again. He let go of your bound hands only to slide his arms around your chest, cupping your breasts, holding you in place as he started thrusting again. Faster and rougher.

Your mind spun. Your body thrashed. The friction, the pressure, your pussy squeezing Jake while your ass clung to Jay, was too much.

The bubbling heat in your stomach snapped. You came hard, your whole body seizing as the orgasm ripped through you, crying out shamelessly between them. Your walls clamped down, legs twitching.

"Shhh, Sunoo's sleeping." Jake moaned as he held your hips, anchoring you as he fucked up into you faster. Jay grunted, his arms tightening as his pace grew erratic, cock pulsing inside you as he pounded into your ass.

Behind you, Jay's control was unraveling. His rhythm stuttered, breath ragged in your ear. His arms tightened around you, holding you in place as his cock throbbed. "C-Close," he ground out before pushing you forward into Jake's chest, hands flattening against your back to hold you still as he drove in harder.

The pressure built again, your vision blurring at the edges. You could barely distinguish the sounds around you anymore—Jake's sharp gasps near your ear, the slap of skin, the wet drag of their cocks inside you, your own breathless moans.

And then Jay came. You felt the twitch, the sudden warmth deep inside as he groaned, head dropping to your shoulder. His teeth grazed your skin as he rode out his release, fingers digging into your sides.

Jay pulled out, only for Jake to shift suddenly beneath you. He flipped your body over, and before you could even register the new position, he was pushing into your ass.

You cried out, your voice raw from earlier but still rising to meet the intensity. Your senses were waterlogged, every drag of skin, every shift of their bodies, blurred into one endless stream of stimulation.

You writhed, helpless beneath Jake, your ass clenched tight around him as he buried himself deep, grinding his hips, gritting his teeth at the feel of you.

And then, in the haze of it all, you saw Jay again—on his knees, eyes glazed over as he wrapped his lips around Jake's cock the moment it slipped free, tongue tracing the length, savoring the taste of you and him mixed together.

Your mouth fell open, but no words came. They moved you again, bodies switching places.

Jay lifted your legs over his shoulders while Jake held your wrists above your head, mouths exploring. Jay's teeth found your shoulder, your neck, your ribs—sharp nips that left heat in their wake. Jake's hands were everywhere—palming your breasts, your hips, one hand buried in your hair, tugging just enough to make your breath hitch.

Your throat was raw from screaming, your voice reduced to ragged whimpers. Your body is so overstimulated, so far past the edge—moved only because they moved you.

They shifted you again.

Your body was gently rolled onto its side, limbs trembling, eyes fluttering as they adjusted your position.  Jay pressed against your back, he curled one arm beneath your body. In front of you, Jake wrapped your leg over his shoulder, one hand cupping the back of your knee, the other guiding his cock back into your swollen cunt.

Jay pushed into your ass again at the same moment Jake slid inside you.

You made a broken sound, your fingers curled uselessly into the sheets as they moved in sync—slow at first, as though they both knew you were at your limit, then gradually picking up pace, chasing their own pleasure while coaxing the last shreds of sensation from your spent body.

"Almost there, baby... just stay with us..."

"So good for us. Always take us so well..."

Their hands didn't stop. They kept touching, even when you could no longer respond—Jake's fingers tracing lazy lines down your thigh, Jay's palm sliding up to cradle your breast, thumbing your nipple with the barest pressure, just enough to make your hips twitch.

You didn't know how long they kept going—minutes or hours?

When they came for the fourth time,  their moans were strained, filled with relief and release. Jay's hips stuttered as he emptied himself inside you once more, while Jake buried himself, his breath hitching as his cum spilled into your cunt.

They stayed still afterward, breathing heavy, their bodies wrapped around you. You whimpered softly, every part of you drenched in sweat and cum, your holes leaking, your thighs trembling.

Jake was the first to move. He brushed damp hair away from your face and kissed you. "Happy anniversary, baby," he whispered against your mouth, "I love you."

Jay nuzzled into your neck from behind, his hand still splayed over your stomach. "I love you," he whisper to your ear.

A soft smile lingered on your lips as sleep began to pull you under, your body finally giving in to exhaustion. Jay noticed the way your breathing slowed, the way your hand slackened in his. Panic flickered across his face for a second, concerned he might've pushed you too far, been too much.

But then he heard your first soft snore.

He let out a quiet sigh of relief, brushing a few strands of hair from your face before pulling the blanket gently over your body. His lips pressed to your shoulder in a tender kiss, before kissing also Jake whispering "I love you," before he allowed himself to relax.

You became the unintentional reason why the long-planned island hopping trip was canceled the next day.

You'd barely moved from the bed.

At some point, Sunoo had burst into the room, sunglasses still on despite being indoors, holding a half-eaten banana and a very dramatic frown.

"You've got to be kidding me," he said, hands on his hips. "One night, one night of freedom, and the three of you manage to destroy my entire itinerary."

You groaned from under the sheets, your face buried in a pillow.  Everything hurt.

Jay offered an apologetic look from the other side of the room, while Jake just laughed into his juice box.

"She's not going anywhere today," Jake said cheerfully, lounging at the foot of the bed. "She couldn't even walk straight coming out of the bathroom."

"Stop talking," you mumbled into the pillow, smacking Jake's thigh without lifting your head.

Sunoo threw his arms up. "I planned a whole route! A cute lunch spot! Coordinated swimwear! And now my best friend is basically bedridden and you two—" he pointed accusingly at Jay and Jake, "—have the audacity to sit there like you're innocent!"

Jake ended up tagging along with Sunoo that afternoon, following him through local shops as he hunted for souvenirs and spent half the time helping him find the perfect lighting for his Instagram shots. You'd seen the selfies later, Sunoo in oversized sunglasses, Jake photobombing with goofy peace signs, and couldn't help but smile.

When you returned from the vacation, back to reality, back to the hum of city life, you decided to take a breath and visit your hometown. Your family.

The first night home, you found yourself seated at the dinner table, the scent of home-cooked food familiar but somehow distant. Your mother passed you the rice bowl before sitting back in her seat with a sigh.

"We're sorry we couldn't come to your graduation," she said, not looking directly at you. "Your sister had her moving-up ceremony too, and I couldn't leave your brother alone."

You just smiled.

"So... what's next for you?"

You shifted in your seat, pushing the rice around your plate with your spoon. "I'm reviewing for the psychometrician licensure exam," you said calmly. "If I pass, I want to work in hospitals—maybe start looking into master's programs too."

"That's good," she replied, then went quiet.

The conversation ended there, just like that. The sound of utensils against plates took over the room. You weren't sure if they didn't know what to say... or if they simply didn't care enough to ask more.

Your parents had always been like this, distant and distracted. Your older brother had been a handful since childhood, always in trouble, always needing someone to clean up after him. The second eldest was the star: awards, medals, top of the class. Then your little sister came along, the one your mom adored, who got praised for even the smallest thing. And you... you were somewhere in the middle.

Never a problem. Never the pride. Just quietly capable. They assumed you could handle things. And you did. But being the one who always "figured it out" left you invisible more often than not.

You looked up from your plate, watching your mother refill your father's glass. He hadn't said much beyond a grunt of acknowledgment when you walked in earlier. You thought about what it would take to pierce the silence.

"I have boyfriends," you wanted to say.

Jake, who lights up every room and kisses your face. Jay whose love is in every thoughtful gesture, every look. You wanted to say it. You wanted to say they make you feel seen in a way your own family never did.

Your father might freak out. Or not. He might just wave it off the way he always did, tucked into his chair and his silence. Your mother might purse her lips, ask questions with careful tones and measured words.

You didn't expect celebration. So why was it so hard to say?

Your hands stilled on the table, spoon resting against your plate. The words sat on your tongue, but somehow they wouldn't come out.

Moving back in with Jay and Jake should've felt like comfort after being away too long. And in some ways, it did.

But the train of thought that had started back home refused to leave.

You couldn't shake it. Not even after unpacking. Not even after lying on the couch with the TV on and your phone buzzing somewhere out of reach. You stared at the screen blankly, not really watching, your mind circling around the same thought like it had nowhere else to go.

You'd missed your chance.

That window—that perfect, ordinary moment at dinner—you let it pass. And now it would be a long time before you saw them again. Maybe longer than you'd like to admit.

You'd wanted to share your life. The love you had. The people who saw you fully. But instead, you played your part again, the reliable one, the good daughter, the girl who doesn't ask for much.

You didn't hear the door open or close. Only the soft thud of a backpack hitting the floor pulled you from your thoughts.

"Hey."

Jake's voice snapped you gently out of your spiral, and you blinked to find him standing there in a rumpled hoodie and jeans, casual as ever, a tired smile on his face. He dropped his bag by the table and made his way to you.

You stood automatically, meeting him halfway to press a quick kiss to his lips before sinking back into the couch.

"Where's Jay?" he asked, dropping down beside you with a long, theatrical sigh. He leaned over without hesitation, wrapping an arm around your waist before settling his head in your lap.

"Helping his dad with something for the business," you murmured, threading your fingers through his hair.

Jake huffed, and you chuckled softly.

"Tired?" you asked, even though the answer was already clear.

He nodded into your thigh, lips pouty. "I want you two to cuddle me. Physics is actually killing me."

You smiled and leaned down to press a kiss to his forehead. He hummed contentedly, his hand lightly rubbing circles into your hip as the quiet returned between you. But then, softly, Jake asked. "Are you okay?"

You blinked, and looked down at him. His eyes were still closed, lashes brushing his cheeks.

You didn't know what to say. You looked away from him, eyes drifting back to the glowing TV screen you hadn't been watching at all.

"I..." you started quietly. Jake opened his eyes, turning his face slightly against your lap to really look at you now.

You drew in a shaky breath. "I just realized... it's really hard for me to share my life with others. Even with people I love. Even with you two."

Jake didn't rush you, just let his hand smooth down along your waist in slow strokes, thumb tracing small circles like he was quietly urging you to go on.

"I know you and Jay... you'd introduce me to your families tomorrow if I asked. Like it's nothing. Like it's natural," you said. "But I couldn't stop thinking about it when I went home. I sat there at dinner, thinking about how I wanted to tell them. Tell them about you. About Jay. About us. And I didn't." You laughed softly.

Jake's hand stilled for a moment on your waist, then continued its gentle motion.

"I guess," you swallowed, "I started thinking that maybe... maybe I'm the one who doesn't belong here. That I shouldn't be in this. That, you know, three's a crowd."

Jake shifted, just a little, enough to slide his other arm around your hips so he could hold you properly now, his head still in your lap but his gaze completely focused on you. He took a long breath, then shifted again—just enough to sit up, turning his body to face you properly. One hand reached for yours, the other cupped your cheek.

"Baby," he murmured, "you're not taking up space. Okay? You belong here."

You looked at him, your throat tight, vision already beginning to blur at the edges. His eyes didn't waver, and before you could blink away the sting behind your lashes, he leaned in and pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead.

"We love you," he continued softly, "because of who you are. Not because of what you do, or how easy it is to explain you to other people. You don't owe anyone your story until you're ready to share it."

A single tear slipped down your cheek. Jake caught it with his thumb, brushing it away without a word.

"And I don't care how long it takes," he whispered. "You've already shared yourself with us. That's more than enough."

You let out a shaky breath, one hand still clinging to his. "I know this relationship isn't... normal," you said after a moment, your eyes dropping to your lap. "Not the way people expect love to look. I watch other couples making plans—talking about weddings, houses, kids. And I wonder if we'll ever get to have that, or if people like us... always have to fight just to be happy."

Jake didn't interrupt. He just listened, his thumb now gently stroking the back of your hand.

You kept going, because once it started, it felt impossible to stop. "I think about the future, and how there's this path laid out—what everyone thinks is the right way. And I wonder if we even can fit into it. Or if one day... you'll both get tired of trying. Because we'll always be the ones people don't understand." Your voice cracked slightly at the end.

Jake leaned forward, his brow pressing gently against yours. "You're right," he said. "This isn't the kind of relationship most people are used to. It's different. But that doesn't make it less real. It doesn't make it less ours."

He pulled back just enough to look at you. "We want all of that too," he said. "The commitment. The life. The forever kind of thing. We just get to write the rules together. And yeah, it's scary sometimes. But it's also kind of beautiful, don't you think?"

You nodded slowly, a tear sliding silently down your cheek. Jake caught that one too.

"We've been together for a year, baby," he said quietly. "We don't have to follow anyone else's path. We get to make our own. Just us."

You nodded again, letting your head rest against his shoulder. Jake leaned his head against yours too.

"Jay's planning to start his master's soon. You are too," he said softly. "Once I graduate, I'm gonna become an engineer. Then we'll buy a big house."

You let out a breath of a laugh, the smallest smile tugging at your lips. "Oh, yeah?"

He grinned, proud of himself. "Huge backyard. Real quiet neighborhood. Sunoo will live next door, but we won't tell him that's not a coincidence."

You chuckled, and Jake grinned wider, encouraged.

"We'll get dogs—three, no, five. You can name them. And then..." He paused dramatically. "How many kids do you want? Seven? I can give you that."

You pulled back just enough to look at him, eyebrows raised. "Seven? Are you out of your mind?"

He shrugged, mock serious. "I'm just saying. I have range."

You laughed properly then, the sound shaking loose the last of the heaviness in your chest. Jake's smile softened, eyes crinkling at the corners as he watched you.

"I don't care how many," you said eventually. "As long as it's with you. With Jay."

He leaned forward, pressing a kiss to your forehead, then one to your cheek. Jake wrapped his arms tighter around you.

You rested there for a while, wrapped up in each other. The future still felt uncertain, but it didn't feel so scary anymore. Not when you knew love could be quiet and messy and not look like anyone else's—and still be yours.

You and Jay passed the licensure exam. Together.

Sunoo had passed too, his proud shriek over the group call still echoed in your memory. Sunghoon aced the nursing boards, and Wonyoung, unsurprisingly, had done the same. There'd been celebratory dinners, messy group selfies, and a lot of ugly crying—Sunoo's, mostly.

Jake, meanwhile, was still deep in the trenches of college life. Balancing lectures, labs, and papers while hopping between part-time jobs, and on top of that, helping with his family's business whenever he could. It was exhausting just watching him move but somehow, he made it work, flashing his usual grin with "I'm just built different."

Jay, of course, had offers left and right. Hospitals, clinics, even research institutions. The kind of attention you weren't surprised by. You, on the other hand, didn't have a waiting line of clinics calling your name. And that was okay. You never expected to be him. You started where you could—sending out resumes, attending interviews, building your confidence one step at a time.

Still, it stung a little when you didn't get placed with him. Again.

You kicked the gravel beneath your feet, hugging yourself closer to Jay as the two of you walked side by side outside the exam center where you'd just finalized your paperwork.

"We're on different clinics. Again," you muttered, leaning into him dramatically.

Jay chuckled, wrapping an arm around your shoulder and pulling you in. "It's not the end of the world."

"It's the end of our synchronized lunch breaks," you huffed, resting your head against his chest.

"You just want to steal my snacks."

"You have better snacks," you mumbled. "And hotter coworkers. It's not fair."

He laughed quietly, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. "You're the only one I flirt with at work, you know that."

You looked up at him. "Oh, so you do flirt at work?"

Jay smiled. That crooked, boyish smile he only gave when he knew he was pushing your buttons on purpose.

You rolled your eyes, but your grin betrayed you. The wind tugged at your hair, but Jay's hand reached up to tuck a strand behind your ear.

"I know it sucks," he said quietly. "Starting from different places. But it doesn't mean we're going in different directions."

You looked at him, heart softening.

"I want you to take your time," he continued. "Find a clinic that feels right for you. Not just the one that happens to be next to mine."

You bit the inside of your cheek. "I guess I just... wanted to keep walking this part with you. Like we did before."

"You still are," he said, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. "Just on your own lane. Doesn't mean you're not right beside me."

You leaned into his touch, warmth settling in your chest.

"And hey," he added with a gentle nudge. "At least now we'll have stories to share over dinner."

"Only if you bring the snacks."

"I'll bring you the whole damn pantry."

EPILOGUE

You learn a lot as you grow older.

Not just the kind of learning that comes from books or exams or degrees but the quiet kind. The kind that sneaks up on you in the middle of doing laundry, or while you're watching someone you love stir sugar into your tea exactly the way you like it.

As someone who graduated in the field of Psychology, you'd always known the theories—Maslow, Erikson, Skinner, all the frameworks for understanding behavior, emotion, trauma. But living it? That was a different education.

And love, in its realest form, had taught you as much as any textbook ever could.

Jay taught you patience not the kind that's passive, but the kind that waits with intention. He showed you how to pause, breathe, and choose your words instead of reacting. How to say "I'm sorry" without defensiveness. How to sit in silence when you needed to, and how that silence could say, I'm here. You don't have to rush.

Jake taught you joy. Not just happiness, but real joy, the kind that dances around a room with no music and makes jokes even when things are hard. He reminded you that you didn't have to be polished or perfect to be worthy of love. That vulnerability wasn't a flaw. That laughter could be healing in a way few things could.

And you... you learned that your role wasn't to be the center or the glue, but the space between—the breath before the storm, the bridge between Jay's quiet logic and Jake's loud, chaotic warmth. A stabilizer. A mirror. Over time, you stopped wondering where you belonged because you realized you weren't just part of it.

You were what made it whole.

The three of you sat on the floor that evening, legs tangled in blankets, surrounded by the half-unpacked mess of your shared apartment. A movie was playing quietly in the background.

"Do you remember when Jay used to get all sour around you?" Jake laughed suddenly, tossing a marshmallow in the air and catching it in his mouth.

From the kitchen, Jay's voice rang out. "Stop bringing that up!"

Jake only laughed harder.

You grinned, poking a marshmallow onto a stick before lowering it into the tiny tabletop burner you were using like a makeshift campfire.

"And what about our first big fight?" Jake continued, more softly this time. "When Jay and I got into it, and you tried to step in, and we just... turned it on you. God, we were assholes."

You nodded, laughing a little under your breath at the memory. It wasn't a good fight—messy words, hurt feelings, doors closed a little too hard. But it taught you something.

Jake leaned closer, wrapping his arm around your shoulder and resting his chin on top of your head. "You didn't get mad at us," he said. "Even after all that. We said stuff that wasn't fair. But you never yelled. Why?"

You looked at him, brows raised in mock offense. "You think I didn't want to throw both of you into the hallway?"

He grinned, but waited for the real answer. You sighed softly, looking down at the marshmallow as it turned golden in the firelight.

"I had a part in it," you said. "I confronted you both at the wrong time. Too soon. When emotions were still too high."

You glanced over at Jay, who had now joined you on the floor.

"We learned this in school, remember?" you said, the corners of your mouth lifting. "It's in our nature, when we're overstimulated, emotionally hijacked—our brains go into fight or flight. Logic takes a back seat. We say things we don't mean because we're trying to protect something inside ourselves."

Jay reached out and brushed his thumb over your hand.

"And I realized," you continued, "it's not about avoiding conflict. It's about knowing when to approach it. Timing matters. So does tone. So does intention."

Jake hummed in agreement, then shot a look at Jay, eyes gleaming with mischief. "Even though Jay's taking his master's, sometimes he forgets he's not a robot."

Jay looked up from where he was refolding a blanket, unimpressed. "Excuse me?"

Jake grinned. "You isolate your feelings like you're submitting them for peer review."

You laughed, tugging both of them closer until their shoulders bumped yours on either side. The warmth of being between them never got old.

"It's true, though," you added, resting your chin briefly on Jay's shoulder. "When Jay bottles things up, it builds. So when he does get upset, it's like—boom."

Jay rolled his eyes, but the smile tugging at the corner of his mouth gave him away.

You slipped your arm around his waist, squeezing gently. "But he's working on it. Right, baby? Remember our promise?"

Jay didn't say anything at first, but the glance he gave you was soft. Then he sighed dramatically, leaning into your side with mock defeat.

"I remember," he muttered. "Self-awareness and emotional regulation.

Jake gave him a proud pat on the back.

Love isn't perfect. People aren't either. But love doesn't require perfection. Only presence and growth. The choice to stay and try again, even when things get hard.

It was Jake's graduation day.

You were in the shower when he opened the door without warning��completely naked, grinning.

"I'm going to wash your back," he said, stepping in, water misting his skin. "And you can wash mine too." He wrapped his arms around you from behind, pressing a soft kiss to your shoulder.

Before long, your bodies were tangled together, steam rising as he thrust into you, your legs wrapped tightly around his waist. The sound of your moans echoed against the bathroom, mixing with the splash of water and heavy breathing.

A knock at the door snapped the spell.

"Jake! You're gonna be late to your own damn graduation!" Jay's voice came through.

Jake sighed, forehead resting against yours. "I'll be quick."

Later, as you stood in front of the mirror doing the final touches on your makeup, Jay appeared behind you. His hands found your hips, and he leaned down, brushing his lips against your neck.

"You're glowing," he murmured.

You turned to face him, teasing, "You're just horny."

He smirked, guiding your mouth to his. The kiss deepened fast, he lifted you onto the counter and soon enough, you were breathless all over again.

By the time you arrived at the ceremony, your legs still trembled faintly under your dress. Jake found you in the crowd and grabbed your hand.

"Hey," he said, eyes hopeful. "Is it okay... if I introduce you to Mom? As my girlfriend?"

Your heart skipped. It had been three years of your relationship, you'd spoken to his parents plenty of times at their family shop, but never like this.

"S-sure," you said, then quickly added, "Unless you're not ready—"

"I'm ready if you are," Jake said softly.

You smiled, interlacing your fingers with his. "Tell them I'm yours."

As you walked toward his family, your chest tightened. Jay stood beside you, his palm smoothing over your lower back in a calming, familiar gesture.

"Congratulations, my boy!" Jake's mother exclaimed, kissing his cheek. She greeted both you and Jay with cheek-to-cheek kisses.

"Engineer Sim Jaeyun. Sounds official," Jake's brother said, fist-bumping him.

Conversation buzzed around, full of laughter and pride. Jake pulled you closer, one hand resting on your waist.

"Mom," he said clearly. "This is my girlfriend."

The group went quiet. Your mind rushed with a thousand thoughts. They'll judge you. They'll think you're a slut. They'll ask why both sons are wrapped around one girl.

Jake's mother looked down, eyes catching both Jake's and Jay's hands on you. "We know," she said gently. "Even Jay's father knows."

Both boys froze.

Her gaze turned to you. "Thank you for taking good care of my sons," she said, reaching up to tuck a damp strand of hair behind your ear.

Emotion caught in your throat. Your eyes stung. "I-I..." you tried to laugh. "They're the ones taking care of me, ma'am."

"You silly girl," she laughed, pulling you into a light embrace. "I know the stress of managing two men back and forth."

Her voice was teasing, but kind. And in that moment, the tightness in your chest, the quiet anxiety that had been sitting there all day finally softened.

You let yourself lean into the hug, if only for a second, and thought about your own family.

Would they react like this? With ease, with lightness? With kindness, even if they didn't understand?

You didn't know. Because you hadn't tried.

And maybe you weren't ready yet. Not today. Maybe not for a while.

But that was okay. Some truths take time. Some stories need space. And when you're ready, you'll tell it in your own way, on your own terms.

Until then, love doesn't stop growing just because it's quiet.

Jake’s family had invited the three of you to a formal dinner. You sat between Jake and Jay at the long table, surrounded by his parents, a few cousins, and an uncle who occasionally asked the waiter for another bottle of wine.

It wasn’t long before the discussion shifted to futures—careers, plans, and everything in between.

Jay was answering questions about his master’s program, explaining something about clinical data and research work. Jake jumped in right after, talking about his final year, his capstone project, and his tentative plans to help expand his family’s business once he had more experience under his belt.

“And then,” Jake added, grinning, “we’re thinking about buying a house, one with a good view, and I want a big yard.”

“A home for the three of you?” his cousin asked, a little curious. Jake just smiled. “Eventually.”

There was laughter, clinking glasses, someone said something about property taxes, and the conversation flowed easily.

Then Jake’s mother turned her gaze toward you with a warm smile. “And what about you, dear? You’re not taking your master’s yet?”

You smiled politely, meeting her eyes for a second before looking back down at your plate. You cut into your steak,  giving yourself a breath before answering.  “Maybe soon, ma’am,” you said gently. “But I’ve changed plans.”

“Oh?” she asked, curious but kind.

You nodded, glancing toward Jay and Jake, then back to her. “I want to teach.”

“I thought a lot about continuing on the clinical side,” you explained, “but lately, I’ve been drawn to education. To helping students find their footing the way I was helped. I think... there’s something powerful about shaping understanding, especially in psychology."

Jake’s mother’s expression softened, her hand folding neatly over her napkin.

“Well,” she said, “that sounds like exactly the kind of voice students need.”

You felt Jay’s fingers brush lightly against yours under the table. Jake, already proud, leaned back in his chair with a smug little grin, like your answer had personally earned him points.

“And who knows,” you added, a bit more lightheartedly now, “maybe I’ll take my master’s once I’ve had a classroom full of teenagers to humble me.”

There was soft laughter around the table, and the conversation moved on—back to housing prices, travel plans, the dessert menu. 

“I want to order something sweet,” Jake whispered, leaning over to you. You were still staring at the dessert menu, half-reading, half-dreaming. Jay leaned in on your other side, his curiosity piqued as he peered over your shoulder.

“There’s no corn there,” Jake teased, bumping Jay’s arm.

You giggled. Jay, unamused but barely hiding his smirk, reached over to pinch Jake’s shoulder.

You pointed at the menu: Strawberry cake.

Jake sighed with awe. “You’re such a softie.”

“You’ll thank me later,” you replied.

And he would. He always did.

The night ended softly.

The three of you returned to the apartment in quiet contentment, no one talked much. You changed out of your formal clothes, brushing your teeth half-asleep, moving in sync the way people who know each other too well do.

And when you finally collapsed into bed. You just lay there, all of you staring up at the star stickers you’d stubbornly stuck to the ceiling months ago. Most had stayed. A few had fallen. The glow had faded, but not completely. It was faint, but still there.

“I love the both of you,” you said, voice soft. 

Jay shifted first, curling closer, his arm wrapping gently around your waist. Jake, as usual, flopped without ceremony, resting his head on your chest and letting out a content sigh.

There was a long pause.

“…Did the dessert have something in it?” Jake asked suddenly.

You snorted and tugged lightly at his hair in warning. He laughed, Jay did too, muffled against your side.

They say love is supposed to follow a pattern. Meet someone, fall, build a life. A straight line—clear and recognizable. Love that fits neatly inside boxes, easy to explain, easier to accept.

But your story was never built that way.

They say love like this shouldn’t last. That it’s too unconventional, too complicated, too much to hold. But you’ve learned that the best things in life rarely follow a script. 

"We don't have to follow anyone else's path."

It stuck with you. And he was right. This love—yours, Jay’s, and Jake’s—it was never meant to fit into the lines drawn by someone else.

Love, you’ve learned, is not about being easy. It’s about being worth it.

And this—this messy, gentle, beautifully unexpected life you’ve built—is more than just worth it.

Unwritten. Unconventional. Undeniably full.

And maybe, just maybe… too sweet.

end.

— AUTHOR's NOTE:

Here’s a quick but important sex ed reminder:

This is fiction. That means some of the things the characters do aren’t meant to be copied in real life. One important example: going from anal sex to vaginal sex without cleaning in between is not safe.

Why? Because the anus and the vagina have totally different bacteria. The rectum naturally contains bacteria like E. coli, which, while usually harmless in the gut, can cause infections if they get into the vagina. This can lead to issues like bacterial vaginosis, urinary tract infections (UTIs), or even more serious complications.

So in real life, always clean up before switching between anal and vaginal sex — either by using a new condom or thoroughly washing first. Always, always practice safe sex.

[classyrbf]

roommate!choso who constantly brings a new girl over every few weeks. He goes out with his lame friends, partying and drinking, stumbling into the apartment during the middle of the night with a random girl who he ends up fucking. It drives you absolutely nuts. No matter how many times you ask nicely for him to keep it quiet or even maybe go over to her place, he gives you the same apology and fake smile.

And tonight was one of those night. The clock at your bedside table flashes the time

1:47 am

and all you hear is the sound of choso’s bed creaking, the girl letting out the most pornographic moans. “I’m cumming!” She yells and you roll your eyes in annoyance, sitting up in your bed. If you weren’t going to sleep at all, you might as well just sit on your phone and watch YouTube to make the time pass. But even minutes later, they’re still going at it, both of them moaning and whimpering, skin on skin slapping against each other.

It was getting hard to distract yourself and even harder to ignore. You stirred in your spot, letting out a deep sigh. As much as it annoyed you, hearing them two go at like rabbits, you couldn’t help but get turned on. Your mind kept drifting to choso, his chiseled face and body, his voice and siren like eyes. It was hard not to find him attractive.

Your hands found their way into your pants, your fingers finding your clit and gently rubbing. It was so pervy of you to listen and actually get off to it, but what else were you supposed to do? You were tired of listening and complaining to him, and at times you wish it were you. With the way these girls sounded like literal porn stars, it was hard not to wonder what he’d feel like inside of you, or how pretty he looked while eating you out.

Before you know it, you were fully undressed, rocking your hips to the rhythm that choso was going, humping the corner of your pillow. Your hand reached up, groping your tits and pulling at your perky nipples, wishing so badly that it was him instead. “Mmph,” you whimper, bumping your clit against the fabric. Why did this feel so good?

Your skin burns hot, mind running wild with imagination. Oh how badly you wished this pillow could be his face, riding his tongue instead. “Oh, yes,” you shakily breathe, pleasure slowly building inside your core. With each rock of your hips, your pussy grows wetter and wetter. It’s the fact you weren’t even getting off to them, but to choso himself. The noises were drowned out by your own thoughts. “Ah! Ah!”

You bite down on your lower lip, circling your hips into your pillow to put more pressure on your clit. Your brows furrow in pleasure and you can tell youre close, that overwhelming sense of pleasure clouding your senses and making your head foggy. “Fuckk!” You moan, eyes fluttering shut, hands reaching up to tweak your nipples between your fingers. The added pleasure pushes you over the edge. “Oh my god! Nnngh!” Your hips jolt against the pillow as your orgasm overtakes you. Did you really just cum to the thought of your roommate? You couldn’t even be bothered to do deal with that right now. Eyes heavy with sleep, you fall over on your bed, still trying to catch your breath. It only took you a few minutes to fall asleep.

Choso stands there in the kitchen, sipping a cup of coffee when you walk out your bedroom, rubbing your eyes and dragging your feet across the floor. “Someone slept in,” he spoke aloud, catching your attention.

“Shut up. You and whatever girl you brought back were loud last night and I couldn’t sleep!” You shove him out the way, grabbing the orange juice from the fridge.

“Yeah…you were pretty loud last night too. Guess that makes two of us,” he chuckles. With wide eyes, you swiftly turn your head towards him to see he’s already looking at you with a cocky smirk. “Heard you after the girl left. You should really take your own advice and quiet down.” He sips from his coffee.

How long were you going for? It really didn’t seem like that long at all. “Please shut up and forget you heard anything.” You slam the fridge shut, forgetting about your orange juice and walking back to your bedroom.

“If you need help next time, just let me know!” He shouts while you walk away, slamming the door on him.

[pandacherryblossoms]

𐙚 Enhypen Sex Positions 𐙚

Request

Genre: Smut MDNI 18+

Warnings: Explicit sexual content, Dom/sub dynamics, Power play, Praise/degradation kink, Rough sex, Choking, Spanking, Possessiveness, Strength kink, Daddy kink, Explicit language

Heeseung — Face Down, Ass Up

Heeseung’s obsession with this position stems from the way it strips you bare and lets him take the lead without holding back. There’s nothing more addicting to him than seeing you completely surrendered to the moment—back arched, cheek pressed into the mattress, and ass raised just for him. It gives him a front-row seat to all his favorite things: the sound of your choked-out moans when he slams into you just right, the tremble in your thighs as you try to stay up, the way your fingers curl around the sheets when he shifts angles and hits that one spot. Heeseung doesn’t just want to fuck you—he wants to ruin you in the most delicious way, to make sure you’re still shaking from it hours later. The grip he has on your hips says you’re not going anywhere, and the way he drags his cock slow and deep before snapping forward again lets you know—he’s not done until you’ve cried for him.

“You look so fucking pretty like this,” he groans, hand gripping your hair to pull your head back just enough so he can hear your broken gasp. “Don’t hide those sounds. Let me hear how good I make you feel.”

You whimper his name, voice catching when he suddenly slaps your ass, sharp and possessive. “Yeah? You like being fucked like this? Helpless? Open for me?”

His hips grind deeper, one hand snaking down to wrap around your throat from behind, holding you steady while he pistons forward. “You’re gonna take everything I give you, baby. No running. No squirming. Just my good girl taking her dick like she should.”

When you fall apart again, legs shaking and voice wrecked, he leans in closer, breath hot against your ear. “That’s it. Just like that. You were made for me, weren’t you?”

Jay — Over the Edge

Jay doesn’t just dominate—he owns. The edge of the bed, a countertop, a table—wherever he has you bent, one thing never changes: you’re exactly where he wants you, at his mercy, with nowhere to run. This position feeds every part of his control kink. Your body laid out, spine arched, completely exposed and helpless to his pace as he drives into you with unrelenting force. One hand clamped to your waist, the other tangled in your hair or tightening around your throat—Jay doesn’t play when it comes to power. He thrives off the whimpers you try to hold back, the shake in your voice when you beg, the desperation in your eyes when he pulls back just to deny you. This isn’t about quick pleasure—it’s discipline, it’s control, it’s showing you who you belong to. And he takes his time doing it.

“You think you can take it all without asking?” His voice is sharp, low, sending shivers straight down your spine. His palm spreads between your shoulder blades, forcing your chest down as his hips slam forward. “You don’t get to make the rules, sweetheart. I do.”

Your hands scramble for something to hold onto, but he grabs your wrists and pins them to the bed in one hand. “Stay fucking still.”

A broken moan spills from your lips as his thrusts get rougher, and Jay just smirks above you, breathing heavy. “You feel that? That’s what it means to be mine.”

He leans in, lips brushing your ear. “No cumming until I say so. You don’t want to find out what happens if you disobey.”

When your legs start to tremble and your breathing breaks, he drags his hand down your spine and mutters, “Good girl. That’s more like it. Take it for me.”

Jake — Pretzel Dip

Jake is a romantic—but he’s still in charge. The pretzel dip is his perfect balance: it lets him keep you close, locked in with your legs hooked high and his arms wrapped tight around you, while still being the one in control. He gets to watch everything—your reactions, the way your face twists with every deep, calculated thrust, how your fingers claw at his back when he grinds into the spot that makes you crumble. The position is intimate, sensual, and full of control. He doesn’t need to pin you down to remind you who’s in charge—he just holds you steady, kisses your neck between each slow thrust, and ruins you with praise and pressure. He takes his time with it, savoring every breathless cry, every whispered plea, making sure you feel just how good he’s giving it.

“You’re so perfect like this,” he breathes against your cheek, hips rolling deep and slow. “Wrapped around me, takin’ everything I give you.”

His voice is soft but commanding, full of heat that makes your whole body tense. “Look at me, baby. Don’t hide those pretty eyes.”

When you do, his smile is all warmth and desire. He brushes your hair back and leans in to kiss you, tongue lazy, filthy with affection.

“Can feel you squeezing me—fuck, you’re close, huh?” One arm locks tighter around your waist, pulling you in deeper. “You don’t have to say it. I already know what my girl needs.”

You cry out, back arching, and he holds you tighter, whispering in your ear like it’s sacred. “Let me take care of you. You don’t have to think—just hold on and let me love you right.”

⸻

Sunghoon — Cowgirl

Sunghoon loves this position because it gives him the best of both worlds—watching you take control, only to snatch it back the second he gets greedy. There’s something addictive about the way your body moves above him, flushed and needy, your hands pressed to his chest as you ride him slow and deep. He lets you set the pace at first, a soft, teasing smirk on his lips as he watches you fall apart—but he’s never passive. One flicker of desperation in your eyes and he’s grabbing your hips, holding you down, thrusting up with a strength that leaves you gasping. Cowgirl gives him the perfect view of everything he wants: the way your back arches, your thighs tremble, the exact second you start chanting his name like a prayer. He loves how vulnerable you look even when you’re on top—because he knows he’s still the one in control.

His hands slide up your waist, slow and deliberate, thumbs pressing into your skin. “You look so fucking pretty like this,” he says softly, voice low and warm. “All mine, aren’t you?”

You nod, hips faltering as you try to keep your rhythm, but he’s already bucking up into you harder. “That’s it, baby. Let me feel how bad you want it.”

One hand cups your jaw, tilting your face down to meet his eyes. “Don’t look away. I wanna see you when you come on my cock.”

You whimper, leaning down until your forehead touches his, and he groans, hands spreading over your back. “Keep going. Just like that. Make it messy for me.”

When your pace stutters and you cry out, he doesn’t let up—his voice is a gentle command, thick with affection. “Ride it, baby. Daddy’s got you. You’re safe. You’re so fucking good for me.”

Sunoo — Lotus

Sunoo is addicted to the kind of closeness that makes your heart ache in the best way. For him, sex isn’t just physical—it’s emotional, spiritual, almost sacred. The lotus position is his favorite because it allows for everything he craves at once: skin-to-skin warmth, your limbs tangled around his, your foreheads touching as if nothing else in the world exists. He loves how your thighs squeeze his sides, how your arms lock around his shoulders, how your breath catches when he moves just right. There’s no rush with Sunoo—every thrust is slow, purposeful, full of emotion. His favorite thing is hearing the soft, breathy sounds you make only for him, right into his ear where no one else can hear. With his arms wrapped around your waist, holding you close, he feels like he’s inside more than your body—he’s in your soul.

His thumbs brush along your spine as he rocks into you, voice tender and low. “You feel that? How perfect we fit?”

You nod against his shoulder, arms tightening around him, and he hums softly, lips grazing your jaw. “It’s always like this with you… warm, close, real. I don’t want to be anywhere else.”

He kisses you again, slow and deep, and his hands roam your back like he’s memorizing every inch. “You don’t have to move, baby. Just hold onto me.”

Your breath hitches as he grinds deeper, and he pulls back just enough to look into your eyes. “I want you to feel how much I love you. Every time. Every second.”

He cups your face gently, forehead pressed to yours. “Stay with me. Just like this. Let’s fall apart together.”

Jungwon — Against the Wall

Jungwon is calm by nature, collected—but when it comes to you, when it comes to fucking you, that calm turns into cold, calculated control. He thrives on dominance, the kind that makes you tremble before he even touches you. Against the wall is his favorite because it strips away any illusion of control you might have. He lifts you like you weigh nothing, your legs wrapped around his waist, back pressed to the surface like he’s pinning you into place. You’re trapped—his to use, to take, to ruin. And he lives for it. One hand clamps down on your thigh to keep you up, the other wrapped around your throat or grabbing your jaw, forcing you to look at him while he drives his cock into you with slow, punishing force. It’s never fast—not until you’ve earned it. Jungwon believes in making you work for your pleasure, and he never lets you forget who’s in charge.

“You’re not going anywhere,” he growls, voice low and dangerous, forehead pressed to yours as he snaps his hips up hard enough to make your breath catch. “You stay right here—right where daddy put you.”

Your fingers claw at his shoulders, thighs shaking, but he just grips your jaw tighter, forcing your eyes to meet his. “Look at me while I fuck you,” he commands. “That’s it. You don’t come until I tell you to.”

You whimper something weak and broken, but he’s not having it. “Use your words.”

“Y-Yes, daddy,” you gasp.

“Good fucking girl,” he snarls, fucking into you deeper now, brutal and relentless. “I’m the only one who gets to ruin you like this. Don’t forget it.”

His hand slides down, cupping between your legs. “Feel how soaked you are? You love being daddy’s toy.”

Ni-ki — Doggy Style

Ni-ki likes the view. The way your back arches as he takes control, the smooth curve of your body, and how you look when you’re completely open for him. He’s got this cocky, confident energy, and he loves how his deep thrusts make you gasp, make you tremble under him. Doggy style gives him the perfect angle to fuck you exactly how he wants, slow or fast, deep or shallow—it’s all on him. He’s possessive, but not in a harsh way—more like he’s claiming you, marking you with each thrust. His hands are tight on your hips, guiding you back onto him when he wants it deeper, and his movements are precise, making sure you feel every inch of him. Ni-ki thrives on the control and loves hearing your breath hitch and your body react to him.

“Fuck, look at you—so beautiful like this,” he grunts, his hands tight on your hips, pulling you back to meet his thrusts. “Can’t wait to feel you come undone for me.”

Your back arches at the angle, your moans growing louder.

“You like that?” he growls, smacking your ass once—just enough to make you flinch. “You better keep that same energy, baby. Don’t make me do all the work.”

“Yes, Ni-ki,” you whimper, gripping the sheets as his pace picks up.

He lets out a low chuckle, the sound rough and satisfied. “Good girl. Now show me what you’ve got.”

[paarksunghoon]

resignation (6)

SUMMARY: For the last six years, you’ve dedicated your career to ensuring Park Sunghoon never misses a day of work in his life. But you’re tired of endless days that seem to blend together, and seeing him living his fun, luxurious lifestyle makes you think about what else you might be missing out on. When Sunghoon finds your resignation letter on his desk, he does everything in his power to convince you to stay.

NOTES: life comes at ya fast…updates will come as I have more inspo and time to write. :) this is unedited

WARNINGS FOR THIS CHAPTER: cunnilingus, slight coercion (but is it really if she wants it?).

SERIES PLAYLIST + SERIES MASTERLIST

***

Midweek comes around slower than you’d like and it feels as though your days are dragging on the more you try to tie up loose ends and review resumes of potential candidates. 

Sunghoon has agreed to transfer some of the responsibilities onto the secretaries for the time being. They’ll be responsible for attending meetings in-office and other tasks that can be taken off of your plate as you focus on what’s at hand. 

“Are you any closer to finding me a new assistant?”

He asks this at least once every few hours. He’ll do it when he hears you typing away on your keyboard or when you’ve neglected to hear him call you from the door. Sunghoon says it with a smile that looks too playful for your liking. 

“Not any closer than I was since the last time you asked me.” 

“Shame. But perfection takes time, doesn't it?”

You roll your eyes. “Come in and close the door, will you? It’s hot as shit outside and you’re letting all of my cold air out.” 

“Maintenance is working on fixing the air conditioning in the main areas. My office isn’t as cold as yours, I’ll say that.”

“Maintenance likes me better.”

“Nuh uh.” 

You look up from your monitor. “What are you, a child?”

“Maybe.” You roll your eyes again and focus back on your work. “Any candidates I should know about?”

“Are you asking me because you’re interested or because you’re bored?”

“Is there any difference?”

“Yes. You either care about who’s going to take over my position once I’m gone, or you enjoy watching me suffer by being in my presence.” 

“The latter, actually. You’re cute when you’re angry at me.” You scowl at him. “See? Cute.” 

“I’m not cute.”

“You say that, and yet you are.” 

“You’re insufferable.”

“And you’re really cute, especially with my hand between your legs.” Your face grows hot and Sunghoon grins when he realizes he’s rendered you speechless. 

“If you aren’t going to be of any help, might as well go back to your office and do your job.” 

Sunghoon puts both hands up. “Alright, alright. I did come here with the intention of an update, though. Heeseung mentioned you’ve made some progress when I saw him earlier this morning.” 

“Some. I’ve been getting hundreds and hundreds of applications, and it’s getting hard to sift through all of them.”

“What kind of things are you looking for?” 

“Experience, mostly. Someone who meets half of these qualifications and won’t be an ass about it.”

“Got any contenders?” 

“I haven’t met with anyone yet, so I can’t be so sure right now. I’m in correspondence with some to meet at the office next week for an initial interview before I decide.”

“How many interviews?”

“Three. One introduction, a second so they can see the office, and a third with you.”

“With me?”

You roll your eyes. “Yes, you. I need you to like your assistant.” 

“The way I like you?”

You near your throat. 

“I surely hope not.” 

“You don’t have to worry about that. I just need an assistant who can handle the job and not complain about it too much.” 

“That’s the goal.”

“Who are you meeting with next week?” 

“Cho Miyeon’s coming on Monday morning and Kang Taehyun will be coming the same afternoon.”

“Yang Jungwon on Tuesday too, huh?” Sunghoon peers over your shoulder and stares at your calendar. “You’ve got a busy week.”

“I’m doing my best. My workload is being shared while I look for my replacement, so it’s not too bad. Don’t get any ideas and add things on my docket, though.”

“Well…”

You sigh. “Sunghoon, please. I’m trying to be diligent and do right by you, but you’re making me want to quit on the spot.” 

“Hear me out at least, okay?” 

Sunghoon sits on the edge of your desk and sees the top button of your blouse unbuttoned. It’s not enough for him to see your bra underneath, but his mouth runs dry thinking about it. 

“It’s our turn to choose a restaurant for the next quarterly dinner party. As you know, it’s important because we as a company build internal connections and reward those who work under us with an all expenses paid meal.”

“Plus quarterly bonuses from the respective employers.”

He nods. “Yes, plus the bonuses. Anyway, I’ve booked a reservation at a highly rated Spanish place that serves tapas style for tonight. Cool, huh?” 

“You cannot seriously expect me to drop my plans to work.” 

“You don’t have plans.”

“Okay, fair point. But Pochi, Sunghoon. And I don’t want to work!”

“We won’t be out until late into the evening, if you’re worried about feeding her. We’ll leave the office early and I’ll have you home before nine. And you won’t be working. Not really.” 

“Asking me to try food for a work event is considered work.”

“Just come with me, okay? If you like it, we’ll host the party there. If not, we try another one on the list.”

“What list?”

Sunghoon merely smiles but he doesn’t explain further. “Don’t worry about it. Get yourself hungry and we’ll leave at five.”

“You, leaving work at five…”

“Early, I know.” Sunghoon laughs. “So what do you say?”

“I say you want me to ignore all of my tasks and distract me with food. Why can’t you go with another assistant who actually gives a shit about this party?”

“Because I care about your opinion, not theirs.” 

“I don’t have time to entertain this when it’s not on my immediate priority list. You can bring Jongseong to dinner, for all I care. He’ll appreciate that more than me.” 

Before you know it, he’s on the floor and turning your chair to face him. 

“Sunghoon!” 

He situates himself between your legs and spreads them apart by pushing your knees away. His fingertips gently touch your skin and inch up the skirt you’re wearing, pushing the fabric up your thigh. Your resolve seems to crumble when you see him like this and look around hastily. 

“W-What are you doing?” 

Sunghoon doesn’t speak. He looks at you and smiles like he knows something you don’t.

“My window is open,” you say in a haste, trying to push his hands away from your legs. 

Sunghoon merely laughs and leans down to press a kiss to the inside of your knee while maintaining eye contact. You sit frozen in your chair as you watch him stand, eyes trained on his semi-hard cock outlined in his trousers. He makes no fuss and faces the windows to close the blinds before turning back to look at you.

“Better?” 

All you can do is nod. Sunghoon drinks you in with his eyes. His gaze starts at the bottom of your heels until you feel his stare drag up your body, locked in on the flesh of your collarbones until his eyes meet yours. It’s hard to keep eye contact with him when he’s looking at you like that, never mind the fact that the outline of his dick is practically at eye level. 

He brings his hand to his mouth and rubs his jaw, huffing something you can’t quite make out. He then resumes his positions on his knees and this time, you don’t complain when Sunghoon pries your legs apart. 

“Can I try to convince you?” he asks in a sultry tone. His voice might as well be made of soft velvet and you find yourself nodding. “Yeah? Can I have my way with you right here?” 

Sunghoon has his answer when you widen your legs before him and parts his mouth like he’s in awe. He observed the way your skirt rides up your thighs even more, then shifts his gaze to your covered cunt. Sunghoon looks like he might as well be high; his gaze is hyper focused between your legs and his well you panties mold to the shape of your cunt. 

His bottom lip becomes wet with his saliva and you’re almost positive that Sunghoon would start drooling the longer he looks at you. His hands delicately hold your ankles in place when you brush your thumb against the corner of your mouth. 

“You’re drooling.” Sunghoon looks up at you.

“I can’t help it,” he says, kissing the pad of your thumb. “You’re so perfect down here.” 

Your cheeks flush for the umpteenth time. Sunghoon’s hands move from your ankles to gently caress the outer skin of your calves before he brings one hand to push your skirt until it sits just below your waist. You lift your hips to help him and settle back down in your chair at a steep slouch. 

Sunghoon holds you there and you feel as if you’re being presented on a platter. Still unused to being like this in front of him, you resist the urge to close your legs to prevent yourself from being even more flushed than you already are. He pushes his face between your legs and gives one, long kiss to your covered slit. 

“So perfect.” Sunghoon mumbles against you, and you suck in a quick breath. He sticks his tongue out to taste the wet slick soaking from the fabric. “That’s really good.” 

Never in a million years would you have ever guessed how good Sunghoon looks on his knees. He’s brash and confident, proud and stoic. The ease in which Sunghoon fell to his knees knowing he’d see what you hide between your legs makes you feel like you’re on top of the world. Sunghoon, who stands down for no one, kneels on his knees for you. 

He pulls your body down and brings his tongue all over your covered cunt. The surface of his tongue makes you clench against him and buck your hips. Sunghoon chases after it, pushing against you harder than merely grazing like he was previously. He licks a confident stripe and laps at your panties like a kitten drinking milk. 

His ginormous hands and caresses your outer thigh like he’s trying to make you relaxed and unashamed of the pleasure he wants to give you. You’re reminiscent of how you felt the morning Sunghoon’s hands were on you for the first time—nervous, excited, and extremely horny. 

When Sunghoon pulls your panties to the side to reveal your lap to him, he groans and his warm breath makes a shove run down your spine. He admires the way your pussy clenches in front of him and kisses your naked slit like he’s trying to reassure you.

“Relax, love. It’s just me.”

“Kind of hard to relax.” 

“Why?” Sunghoon kisses your slit once more and you sigh in contentment.

“I’m not used to people looking at me like this.” 

He looks up. “Get used to me between your legs.” 

When you deal with Sunghoon’s demands during working hours, you’re a force to be reckoned with. He’s stubborn and loves to fight back until you frustratingly give up or until you’ve backed him into a corner. You’re used to his hotheaded tendencies and never back down if you can help it.

But Sunghoon’s hands keep you locked before him so gently that it makes you think you’ve got nothing to worry about. His fingers caress your skin in a way that makes you tingle with excitement and lust, and it’s been a while since you’ve felt this way about anyone. 

He can feel your body respond to him when you loosen the tightness in your hips and let your legs fall beside him. Sunghoon’s mouth kisses your outer lips and avoids your clit, but the feeling is all the same when you haven’t been in this position in years. He takes his time, moving his plush and moistened lips across your skin like he’s mapping out every inch of you.

Sunghoon’s head moves to your inner thigh and his hair brushes your skin. His eyes remained closed as if to savor the taste of your body. You can’t seem to look at anything but him like you’re afraid he’ll disappear if you close your eyes and allow yourself to lose yourself in his touch.

Feeling so exposed is out of your comfort zone. You feel completely naked in front of him despite wearing a blouse and a skirt, technically. The sheer act of intimacy, even if Sunghoon walks away from you forever after he’s done kissing you between your legs, still feels like more than a mere hookup like your previous experiences. 

Sunghoon is still fully dressed and you wonder if he’s as hard as he was before kneeling. Your mind races when he switches legs and kisses all the way to the inner portion of your knee, dabbing gentle pecks that makes your heart race much faster than you would’ve ever anticipated. 

He must know by now you’re as inexperienced as a woman your age could be. It’s never for the lack of trying; men leave you disappointed and the pool of new lovers falls short when you aren’t the type of person to lose yourself in strangers who will never love you back. Sunghoon touches you like he’s more than somebody you’ve worked with for the last six years. It scares and excites you all at once. 

His breath ghosts over your cunt before he sticks his tongue out to lick a fat stripe. It feels like the entire surface of his tongue covers the entirety without a single inch being undiscovered by his mouth, and the sensation makes your toes curl in your heels. It’s enough to make your back arch slightly. Sunghoon watches you and puts both of his hands at the side of your hips to keep you steady before him. 

Sunghoon takes his time and doesn’t rush it like you think he will. He sounded so desperate to get you to agree to come with him to dinner tonight. You were sure he’d get on both hands and knees like a dog to beckon you to come. The sense of urgency seems to have been tossed out the window when he closed the blinds. Despite being in your office and hearing faint sounds of the copy printed from outside the doors, you feel like it’s just the two of you existing in the same space. 

His tongue moves up and down your slit slowly. Sunghoon’s eyelashes are long and dark, fluttering against his cheek with every pass. You wonder if this is what he looks like when you’re kissing him. It’s unfair how sexy he looks when his tongue is coated in your slick and when he’s sighing against your pussy like this is a meal that has finally satisfied his craving. 

“You’re so wet,” he murmurs against you the second he pushes his tongue past your folds. The vibrations continue to add to your pleasure and you buck your hips against his face. 

“S-Stop talking.”

He chuckles. “I think you like it when I talk to you like this.”

You shake your head stubbornly. Sunghoon hums like he doesn’t believe you. His fingers dig into your hips to pull you closer to his face instantly, latching onto your cunt with the urgency you anticipated beforehand. He shoves his tongue deep inside of you to the point where you grip the handles of your chair until your knuckles feel sore. Your palms have grown sweaty and you fear you’re losing your grip on both the chair and your sanity. 

He looks up at you before taking one hand and putting it in his hair. It’s like a foreign instinct takes over. Your hand grips his hair until you’re holding his head in place. His eyes flicker back to yours before focusing on lapping up your wetness, no doubt coating the lower half of his face in it. 

There’s no real method he’s adhering to. It’s messy and growing louder by the second with his saliva mixing in with your juices. Sunghoon slurps you up like he’s trying to taste all of you at once and flexes his jaw to accommodate shoving his tongue inside of your folds and thrusting. 

Your legs eventually wrap around his shoulders and Sunghoon can feel your heel digging into his suit jacket. He doesn’t mind. You’re sure this encourages him to fuck you like this harder because his tongue moves in circles inside of you when your thighs keep his head locked in place. His dark brown eyes open to look right at you and the moans you’ve been holding in escape. 

Sunghoon moans against you too. Your whimpers and short breath sent the blood straight to his cock, but he knows this isn’t the time nor the place to make you moan the way he wants you to. He’ll take what he can get, but that single, deep moan that came from his tongue bouncing over your clit makes him think it would be worth it for everybody to hear you come.

He looks so good with your thighs suffocating his face. Sunghoon doesn’t complain, he just puts his hands on your thighs and squeezes you to keep them there. Your hips start to chase his mouth when you feel your orgasm building and when Sunghoon sees your chest heaving off of the chair, he keeps his steady position and flicks his tongue across your swollen bud. 

You don’t even realize your hips are rolling against his mouth until you come against Sunghoon’s tongue. He doesn’t give you a second to breathe as he laps it up, opening his mouth as best as he can with your legs still wrapped around his face. He moans when he tastes all you have to offer and bucks his hips to grind against the tightness of his slacks when he sees your eyes wired shut and mouth gaping. 

The grip on his hair loosens when your body relaxes and so does the grip on your legs. Your breath feels much heavier than before and when you open your eyes, Sunghoon’s looking at you with a drunken smile on his face. Your cheeks instantly heat up and you try to pry your legs back down, but he keeps you steady there and moves his head to kiss you on each thigh.

“You look so pretty when you come.”

“S-Sunghoon…”

“Yeah, love?” 

You blush harder. “You’re just…” 

“I’m just what?” 

You avoid eye contact. “You looked really hot.” 

He laughs and you feel his eyes still staring at you. Sunghoon lets go of your legs and helps settle them back down on the ground before pushing your panties back in its proper place. He wipes his chin with the back of his hand and sits on the back of his knees to help you regain balance and sit upright in your chair as you fix your skirt in an attempt to look decent. 

“You did so well for me,” he says, pushing upwards to kiss you. Your taste lingers on his lips. Sunghoon braces himself on your thighs and his palms feel comforting. 

“I-I can’t believe I let you do that in my office.”

“Such a rebel, hm?” Sunghoon chuckles between kisses before pulling back to look at you. “Did that convince you to come with me tonight?” 

You nod shyly. “I don’t want you to think I’m the type of girl who can be bribed by sex, though.”

“I don’t think that of you. Matter of fact, I know I had you reeled in when I told you I’d take care of the details.” 

“Hmph.”

“I ate you out because I wanted to.”

Sunghoon kisses you again before standing up. The sheer size of it makes your mouth water and you see the small, wet stain left by his precum. He watches you with fascination and watches your hand reach out with hesitation, pulling back before you’ll do something you might regret. 

He doesn’t force you to touch him, nor does he ask you to do anything in return. You watch him with hooded eyes and the sight of you looking up at him while he stands will fuel his dreams for days to come. 

“You’re hard.” 

“That I am.”

“All that from eating me out?”

He laughs. “You underestimate how much I’m attracted to you.”

Your eyes flicker up. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. So much that I ate your cute little pussy in your office.” 

You swat the side of his thigh and look away from him. “I…My pussy isn’t cute.”

“So cute and so tight. Felt it with my fingers and I felt it again with my tongue. Can’t help but wonder what it’ll feel like with my dick.” 

“Sunghoon!” 

“Too soon?” The blush on your face gives your desire away, but he laughs and backs off. 

“I have a pair of fresh slacks in my office. Let’s finish the rest of today and then we’ll head over for dinner, yeah?”

You raise your eyebrow. “You’re gonna walk out of my office while you’re hard?” 

“It’s like, two inches from yours.” 

“People could see.”

“Aw, are you worried about me?”

You huff. “Let people see how hard you get for me, for all I care.” 

Sunghoon smirks. “Atta girl. I think I just might.”

“You’re insufferable.”

“Just how you like me to be.”

You don’t argue with him. You both know he’s right. He eventually makes his way to the front door and is about to leave before he comes back around your desk. Sunghoon takes you by surprise and leans down to kiss your lips once more before wordlessly exiting your office.

It takes a great deal of strength to stand up and open the blinds.

***

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[cipheress-to-k-pop]

beauty and the beast (m.r.)

Pairing: Mattheo Riddle x Reader

Word Count: 9.3k

Summary: Mattheo Riddle, the infamous heartbreaker, gets his heart broken.

A/N: this is my first fic ever for matty but basically what happened was i read @redeemingvillains's amazing amazing fic called 'Dove' and it made me feral and i wrote this when i was supposed to be studying for my finals

im not so sure abt it lol because i feel like it's all over the place but this is what happens when i get depressed and get inspired at the same time

so, i hope you enjoy the product of my academic burnout and procrastination

also vee i hope you like the fic cuz ur most definitely my celebrity crush hehe 👉👈

Mattheo Riddle and you made an odd couple—at least, that’s what everyone said.

He was the son of the Dark Lord, Slytherin’s crowned king. All sharp edges and smoldering glances, more beast than boy. Mattheo solved problems with fists long before he used his brain, and even then, he was more likely to headbutt the issue than think it through. Fights, bruises, bleeding knuckles—he was practically the poster child for them.

You, on the other hand, were his opposite in every imaginable way.

Hufflepuff’s sweetheart. A sunbeam in human form. You were always wrapped in soft pastels with flower crowns tucked into your hair, hands sticky with sugar from baking treats or speckled with soil from planting herbs. You loved baby animals and warm tea, and your hands only ever got dirty in the name of creation or care.

So when Mattheo Riddle—the dark moon to your warm, gentle sun—started showing interest in you, your friends were quick to intervene.

Mattheo loved flustering you. Whether it was a cocky compliment or a teasing nickname, he’d always say something just to catch that bashful blush on your cheeks. He’d lean in too close, grinning like a devil as you tried to hide your smile.

“Ah! You’re just so cute. Muah!” You giggled one afternoon, pressing a kiss to the head of a tiny kitten. You’d found a litter of them near the castle grounds and built a makeshift shelter, lining it with soft blankets. To your delight, your friends had fallen in love with them too, helping feed and cuddle the kittens when they could. You came today for the usual dose of kitten therapy.

“Wow, where’s mine?”

The deep voice startled you so much you nearly toppled over from the crouch you were in, silently praying to Helga that your arse wouldn’t land on a defenseless kitten.

“Woah there!”

Luckily, someone caught you—one hand steadying your back, the other gripping your elbow just enough to stop your fall. The kitten in your arms squirmed and you realized you might’ve squeezed it in your surprise. Loosening your grip, you gently pet between its ears with a single finger, smothering it with kisses as an apology.

“You really know how to make a bloke jealous, sunshine,” Mattheo said, his voice a low purr near your ear, “I save you, and you’re still more invested in the kitten.”

You turned, only to find him inches from your face. You squeaked again, your blush rising fast as you looked away, tucking your face into your shoulder. Mattheo grinned.

You cleared your throat, trying to gather yourself, “Well, if you recall, you’re the reason I almost fell in the first place.”

His smirk widened, one brow arching—the same brow with the notch he’d gotten in a fight just a few days ago. You’d heard about it in passing, less concerned about the fight and more about whether anyone had been seriously hurt. Your friends had smiled gently at your concern, telling you you were too sweet for this world.

“I didn’t realize I distracted you, princess.”

The nickname was your undoing. Again.

You turned away, hiding behind another kitten as your cheeks burned. You couldn’t understand how someone like Mattheo Riddle found so much joy in tormenting your poor, flustered heart.

You cleared your throat, flustered, “So… you came to see the kittens too? Don’t they just cheer you up after a long day?”

Mattheo gave you a look—something between a smirk and a genuine smile, an expression that made your heart stumble over itself before he even opened his mouth.

“I am cheered up now,” He said, his voice low and warm, “But I must say, it’s not because of the kittens, Sunshine.”

Your breath caught in your throat.

Your friends had immediately tried to intervene—purely out of concern for you, as you came to realize that night in the cozy safety of your dorm room, when Mattheo Riddle’s name was brought up.

“We just want you to be careful,” Lila said gently, her dark curls falling into her eyes as she spoke, “Mattheo isn’t exactly a stranger to other girls’ beds, (Y/N). He’s gone all the way with them—four bases, easily. Hell, with him, there’s probably an extra base we don’t even know about.”

Imani winced, “And well… we know you aren’t as experienced.”

You felt your cheeks flush. They weren’t wrong.

They were referring to the fact that you were a virgin. You’d never dated anyone. Never even had a boyfriend.

“…Is that bad?” You asked softly.

The girls’ eyes widened and they immediately jumped to reassure you.

“No! Not at all!” Lila said quickly.

“Of course not!” Imani added, shaking her head.

“That’s not what we meant,” Daisy chimed in, reaching over to squeeze your hand, “You just… you deserve someone who’s patient with you.”

“Mattheo’s part of a rough crowd,” Evangeline said, hesitating. She always chose her words carefully, “I don’t want to sound mean or make you feel like we’re judging him, but… I’ve been overthinking this whole thing. And you really can’t be sure he’s not doing this as some kind of cruel joke. Or a dare. Or something equally awful. I wouldn't put it past some of his friends.”

She looked you right in the eye, her voice softening.

“I feel bad assuming the worst, I really do. But I also don’t want to trust just anyone with someone as precious as you.”

That made you smile despite yourself.

Evangeline. The mother of the group. Always looking out for everyone. Always making sure you were safe, happy, and loved. She deserved something in return for how diligently she cared for you all.

You made a mental note to bake her favorite strawberry jelly pastries as a thank-you.

“I understand what you’re all saying,” You said, voice warm, “Thank you… for looking out for me.”

Thus began the excruciating process of trying to remind yourself of everything your friends had said—every time Mattheo began to flirt with you.

You returned his charm with a polite smile. You laughed at his silly jokes. You reminded yourself, this probably isn’t that serious to him.

He could have any girl on his arm—any girl who actually knew what she was doing. What business would Mattheo Riddle, famed Slytherin heartbreaker and rumored womanizer, have with someone like you? Someone who wasn’t experienced. Someone who needed emotional connection to feel safe. Someone who couldn’t even tell whether this was real or just another one of his games.

It all came to a halt the day Mattheo—so casually it could have been mistaken for a joke—suggested you two actually go out.

It happened in passing, half-directed at someone else in the conversation. But you noticed the way he paused. The way he looked at you afterward, as if waiting—hoping—for an answer.

You stared at the hand he extended toward you, palm open.

Then your gaze lifted, meeting his eyes. Wide. Hesitant. Innocent.

He laughed, trying to play it off, “What? Don’t you trust me?”

You froze.

The corner of your mouth dipped downward, a subtle but telling movement. And Mattheo noticed instantly. The playful spark in his expression faded, replaced by a chill that settled into his shoulders like dread.

“Oh.”

“Mattheo, I—” You stopped, unsure what to say as you tugged anxiously at the edge of the shrug you’d crocheted, “I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings.”

“You didn’t, princess,” He said quietly, shaking his head, “Truth is… I’ve never given you a reason to trust me.”

You paused, chewing your bottom lip nervously. The sight of it made something sharp and aching stir in Mattheo—an urge to pull your lip from your teeth with his thumb and press his own mouth to yours, just to stop you from doubting yourself.

“I’m sorry.” You whispered.

Mattheo gave you a gentle smile.

It was a sad kind of smile—soft, genuine, and far too forlorn for someone who was always so cocky and sure. Seeing it on his face made something twist in your chest.

“Don’t be, princess.” He said. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

The next couple of days were filled with a Mattheo-shaped hole in your life—and it left a heavier ache than you expected. You tried not to dwell on it, but it was hard not to overthink. Had he only wanted one thing from you? Had your rejection truly been enough for him to discard the little friendship you’d built?

Was that all he ever wanted? Was that all anyone wanted?

Still, the thoughts didn’t consume you completely. You had your friends. You had your kittens. You had the little chaos garden you were growing with Professor Sprout’s permission just beyond the greenhouses, where wildflowers grew beside pumpkins and honeybees lazily floated between blooms.

That was enough… mostly.

At least until Mattheo found you in the library.

You were seated near the back, flipping through your Herbology notes, when he strolled up and set a small vial down on the table in front of you. The clear liquid inside shimmered faintly, catching the candlelight. You looked up at him, eyebrows raised.

Mattheo’s chest was puffed out in obvious pride. He looked like he expected you to gasp or leap into his arms or start clapping.

But you just stared between him and the vial.

His posture deflated slightly, “Come on, princess. At least pretend to be interested. I spent days trying to get my hands on this.”

You bit back a smile, secretly amused by the way he still spoke to you like nothing had changed. Like you hadn't broken his heart—or at least bruised it. The fact that he was here at all made something flutter in your chest.

You gave in with a curious tilt of your head, “Alright, Mattheo. I’ll bite. What’s in the vial?”

“Veritaserum.”

Your eyes widened, but before you could even think to stop him, Mattheo uncorked the tiny bottle and downed it in one go like it was a shot of Firewhisky. He slammed the empty vial back onto the table and leaned forward, smirking.

“I’m completely at your mercy now, sunshine. Ask me anything. I’ll prove I’m not messing with you.”

You blinked, taken aback by his dramatic display. Then you pouted a little, your lips tugging downward as your eyes softened.

“How do I know that was actually Veritaserum?”

He laughed, grinning at you, “Trust issues much, princess? I respect it. Go on—ask me something I wouldn’t answer unless I was under the influence.”

Your eyes flicked over him, unconvinced. That was when you noticed the fresh cut across his nose—no doubt from yet another fight. It should have made you concerned, should have made you check him over for any other bumps and bruises. Instead, you had the completely embarrassing thought that it looked… sort of adorable.

You cleared your throat and hummed, thinking, “Your best friend is Theodore, right?”

He smirked, already cocky again, “Of course. Come on, angel. Give me a tough one.”

You tilted your head, pretending to ponder. Then, as sweetly as ever: “Have you ever thought about kissing Theodore?”

Mattheo froze.

His entire face lit up in a furious blush, red blooming across his cheeks and ears, “I—I mean, yes—but I wasn’t fantasizing about it or anything!” He sputtered, “It was just… a random thought that popped into my head once, I swear!”

You clapped a hand over your mouth, giggling uncontrollably. “Well,” You managed through your laughter, “I guess it really was Veritaserum.”

He covered his face with one hand, groaning into his palm, “That was embarrassing. I am embarrassed.”

You paused, your laughter fading into a soft frown as concern overtook your expression, “Mattheo… if you regret it, it’s okay. I won’t ask you anything else until the serum wears off, you don't have to answer anything else.”

He peeked at you through his fingers and smiled, slow and sincere. “You really are too good for this world, princess.” He let his hand fall and leaned forward, eyes never leaving yours, “No—I don’t regret it. I want you to trust me. And this was the only way I could think of doing it.”

You let out a breathy laugh. Of course it was. Of course the way Mattheo Riddle tried to earn your trust was something absurd, reckless… and somehow incredibly endearing. Just like him.

You hesitated, then asked the question that had been sitting on your chest for weeks, “All those compliments you give me… when you say I look beautiful… do you really mean that?”

His expression softened so much it almost hurt to look at. “Without a doubt,” he said without missing a beat.

Your heart stuttered in your chest. A blush crept up your neck, spreading across your cheeks like warm sunlight, “…Do you really want to date me?”

“More than anything.”

You swallowed hard, “Is this possibly part of a joke? Or a dare? Or something else I should be scared of?”

Mattheo didn’t even flinch, “Believe me, princess, I would rather fall twelve stories from the Astronomy Tower than ever do something like that to you.”

Your breath caught. You’d been cold earlier, the drafty corners of the library nipping at your sleeves—but now you felt hot all over, your skin tingling like you’d been dropped into sunlight.

You blinked, “…Are you using me as a beard to hide your true feelings for Theodore?”

“(Y/N!)” He exclaimed, utterly scandalized, your name leaving his lips for the first time ever instead of a teasing nickname. The outrage on his face was so genuine that you couldn’t hold back anymore—you burst into a fit of laughter, face falling against his bicep as you tried to muffle your giggles.

Mattheo was still huffing beside you when you finally peeked up from his arm, and the expression he wore—soft, amused, fond—made your breath hitch all over again.

You shifted nervously, “Do you… like me?”

“More than you realize.” He said, quiet but certain.

You lowered your head, flustered, heart pounding as you fidgeted with the sleeves of your jumper. You weren’t usually so forward. Asking him all those questions had taken a surprising amount of courage. And now that you had your answers, you didn’t know what to do with them.

Mattheo tilted your chin up with a featherlight touch, catching your eyes. He glanced at your lips, then back into your gaze with so much reverence it almost made you dizzy.

“Will you go out with me, sunshine?”

Your lips curled into a shy smile, “I’d love to, Mattheo.”

His smile widened, something boyish and sweet in it that you hadn’t seen before. But before you could let yourself fully sink into the glow of that moment, the nagging voice of self-doubt tugged at your courage.

“I… don’t know if you know this about me,” You started hesitantly, “but I’ve never really done this before. Dated, I mean. So… I might need to take things slower than what you’re used to. Is that okay with you?”

There was a beat of silence where your heart was convinced it might just split in two from the pressure. But then Mattheo leaned in, pressing the gentlest kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering there for a heartbeat longer than necessary.

When he pulled back, his eyes were soft with something so genuine it made your throat tighten, “We’ll go as slow as you need to, princess.”

You smiled, chest loosening as you leaned slightly into his side, your hand brushing his.

It wasn’t until later—when you were curled up in bed, running back through every detail—that you realized something.

He had never actually clarified if that pace—slow, careful, uncertain—was okay with him.

He had said you could go slow.

But you didn’t know if he wanted to.

***

It had been about three weeks since you and Mattheo started dating, and even now, it sometimes didn’t feel quite real. Not because he didn’t show it—if anything, Mattheo Riddle was a surprisingly attentive boyfriend. He brought you little things he thought you’d like (a flower he saw outside Greenhouse Three, a charm that reminded him of your favorite animal, a quill in your favorite color just because you said yours was running out). He always waited for you outside class, always carried your books if your bag looked even slightly heavy, and never let a day pass without calling you by some new sweet nickname.

But more than that, he never pushed.

On your first date, you'd gone to the edge of the Forbidden Forest—somewhere quiet and peaceful with just enough sunlight trickling through the trees to give the illusion of safety and magic. You’d spread out a blanket, shared pumpkin pastries and pumpkin juice, and talked about anything and everything. Mattheo hadn’t even tried to hold your hand until you'd gently brushed your pinky against his, and even then, he’d waited for you to fully intertwine your fingers.

Since then, it had been a slow rhythm of delicate moments: shoulders brushing in the corridor, pinkies linked under the table, his fingers tucking a strand of hair behind your ear with careful reverence. He never took more than you offered. Never asked for what you weren’t ready to give.

Even now.

Now, it was late—past curfew—and you stood with him in a shadowed alcove near the Astronomy Tower, where moonlight pooled like spilled silver. The castle was hushed, and your heartbeat was the loudest thing in the world.

Your hand touches his cheek, featherlight, like you’re still unsure if you’re allowed to touch him this way. Your voice trembled at the edges when you spoke—

“Can I kiss you?”

Mattheo’s heart stops.

“You—you wanna…?” His voice catches, and he mentally curses himself because he’s Mattheo Riddle, for fuck’s sake, and now he’s stammering like a schoolboy.

“I want to kiss you,” You admitted, voice soft and just a little shaky, “But… I’ve never really done this before. I mean—not really.”

Mattheo’s expression softened immediately. He reached out, his fingers ghosting along your cheek before curling gently around your hand, “Me either.”

You blinked, “You’re kidding, right?”

He laughed under his breath, shaking his head, “No. I mean—I know what people say. I know what you’ve heard. And yeah, I’ve kissed girls before. But those… they didn’t matter. They didn’t mean anything.”

You stared at him, skeptical, “But you’ve done things, Mattheo. With other girls.”

He didn't deny it. Instead, he took your hand in both of his and guided it to his chest, just over his heart. The steady thud was frantic beneath your palm.

“You’re the first one,” He said, voice quiet and steady, “who’s made me feel like this… from just being around me.”

Your breath caught. And then, slowly, you rose onto your toes, brushing your lips against his.

It was tentative, uncertain—but real. So real it made your knees wobble and your heart race.

Mattheo barely moved, just kissed you back softly, reverently, like he was afraid you’d vanish if he wasn’t careful. When you pulled back, he rested his forehead against yours, smiling like you’d just handed him the stars.

“Still nervous?” He whispered.

“Only a little.” You replied, cheeks warm.

And then he leaned in again like you were sacred.

Not like a boy kissing a girl. Like a sinner kissing a prayer.

He didn’t grab. Didn’t take. He just kissed you like it was all he ever wanted to do, like your kindness was the only thing that had ever made him feel clean.

When you finally parted, your breath was uneven, your hands still trembling faintly in his.

For the first time, you understood what people meant when they talked about wanting. The way your heart kept whispering more in the stillness. The way you leaned closer without even realizing.

“I think,” You said, barely louder than a breath, “I might need some more practice.”

Mattheo grinned, brushing his nose against yours, “Good thing we’ve got time, then.”

And he kissed you again—just once more, until you asked him for more—like you were the only thing that had ever made his heart beat like that.

***

The morning sun poured lazily through the enchanted ceiling of the Great Hall, casting golden light over half-finished bowls of oatmeal and drifting owl feathers.

You slid into your usual spot at the Slytherin table beside Mattheo, nudging his side lightly with your shoulder, “Good morning, Matty.”

His lips quirked up immediately, voice still raspy with sleep, “Good morning, baby.”

A chorus of greetings chimed around the table.

“Hi, (Y/N),” Theodore greeted, already mid-sip of pumpkin juice.

“Morning,” Lorenzo added with a grin, elbow-deep in toast and marmalade.

Draco gave you a nod, lifting his chin. “(Y/N).”

You smiled sweetly. “Hi, Theodore, Lorenzo, Draco.”

Mattheo tried to hide the way he preened, but he wasn’t fooling anyone. His hand casually slid onto your thigh under the table, his thumb brushing tiny circles there. You weren’t one for PDA-heavy nicknames in front of the boys, so the fact that he got a "Matty" while everyone else got their usual names? That was better than syrup on pancakes. And he was smug about it.

“What are you guys talking about?” You asked, pouring yourself some tea.

“We’re just messing with Draco,” Lorenzo said with a snort, “Apparently Pansy invited him to go flower picking in the Far East Forest.”

Your eyes lit up, “That sounds like fun!”

The table went silent for a moment—and then all three boys burst into laughter.

“You’re so precious,” Lorenzo wailed, wiping a tear.

Theodore leaned in, “Oh, it is fun. Just not in the way you’re thinking.”

Your brows furrowed, “Huh?”

Mattheo snorted, clearly amused, “Flower picking in the East Forest is a very hands-on activity, sunshine.”

Draco looked smug, “It's basically a date with, uh, extra-curriculars.”

You gasped, “Ew! Draco!”

Mattheo leaned closer to you with a smirk, his voice dropping suggestively, “If you’re that interested, I could take you flower picking sometime…”

Your head whipped toward him, scandalized, "There’s a whole brood of sweet little ducklings that nest there! Don’t you dare snatch their innocence!”

The boys lost it.

Draco buried his face in his hands, laughing helplessly, “You sound like a disappointed forest fairy.”

“I am!” You declared, scandalized, “Honestly, I hope that every time you try to do anything with Pansy out there, you open your eyes and see a baby duckling staring right at your soul. Judging you. Silently.”

Lorenzo practically choked on his juice, “Even her threats are innocent!”

Mattheo couldn’t stop grinning. He looked at you like you’d personally hung the moon, brushing his knuckles against your cheek affectionately.

Just as the laughter around the table began to settle, a familiar voice called out from the entrance of the Great Hall.

“(Y/N)! Come on, we’re gonna be late!”

You turned to see Evangeline waving you over, with Lila and Imari flanking her, each holding an enchanted picnic basket floating obediently beside them.

Mattheo let out a quiet groan beside you, letting his head drop gently onto your shoulder. “Where are you going? It’s not even time for class yet. It’s so early…”

You giggled, nudging him lightly with your elbow. “I know, but we haven’t played with the kittens in days thanks to that Charms essay. I promised the girls we’d have breakfast outside with them.”

He sighed like it was the worst tragedy known to man, looking up at you with tired eyes and a pout. “So you're ditching me... for a bunch of furballs.”

“They’re our furballs,” you said with a soft smile, standing and brushing off your skirt.

Mattheo looked up at you—his hair a mess, his expression still sleepy, but his eyes so warm and full of something you couldn’t name. You leaned down and pressed a featherlight kiss to his cheek. It was barely anything, just a brush of your lips, but it had heat blooming across your cheeks.

“Bye,” You said quickly, “Save me a seat in Charms?”

He nodded, watching you trot off toward your friends with a smile so dazed it made him look a little lovesick.

As soon as you were out of earshot, Theo let out a low whistle, “Mate. You’re gone.”

Lorenzo leaned in with a grin, “Did you just blush? Over a cheek kiss?”

Draco raised a brow, amused, “You’ve had girls snog you senseless behind greenhouses. 'The Hufflepuff Sweetheart' kisses you on the cheek and you look like you're ready to write her a sonnet.”

Mattheo blinked slowly, still smiling like a right fool, “It was a very good kiss.”

Draco smirked, “She barely touched you and you look like you’ve been hit with a Confundus charm.”

None of them noticed the two girls lingering near the entrance—eyes narrowed, arms crossed—who’d heard every single word.

***

You weren’t supposed to hear them.

Their voices were just a low hum at first—giggling, whispering—coming from around the corner as you walked the quiet corridor. You weren’t trying to eavesdrop. You weren’t looking for trouble.

But the words found you anyway.

“Mattheo Riddle? Merlin, he’s such a fuckboy,” One of the girls said, her voice dripping with judgment, “He’s probably seen more girls naked than he can remember. And now he’s with her? Sweet, innocent little thing? She doesn’t stand a chance. I mean, how could someone like her—so sweet, so innocent—keep up with him?”

Another girl snickered, her tone mocking. “It's probably just a corruption kink. He’ll get bored as soon as he realizes she can’t give him what he really wants.”

You paused mid-step, your heart sinking into your stomach. The words struck you harder than you could have imagined.

“She doesn’t have what it takes, though. Look at her—so naive. You think she even knows what to do with a guy like that?” One of them continued, “You really think she knows how to keep someone like him satisfied?” The rest of their words faded, but they’d already done their damage. The words had been carved straight through your chest.

You hadn’t meant to listen. But now you couldn’t unhear it.

Your breath caught in your throat, and you could feel the sting of tears burning behind your eyes, the cruel weight of their words crushing your chest.

You wanted to shake it off. You wanted to tell yourself it didn’t matter. But their voices stuck to your skin like smoke. You weren’t enough. You never would be.

You felt stupid.

You’d been so blind to think someone like Mattheo, with all his past, could ever truly want someone like you. You weren’t like the other girls. You were soft, innocent—too innocent, it seemed. You knew it, deep down, but hearing them confirm your worst fear was unbearable.

You didn’t even know how you managed to make it to your dorm. Everything blurred—walls, portraits, passing students—until finally you reached your bed and collapsed onto it, curling in on yourself like you could disappear. The tears came hard and fast, soaking into your pillow no matter how tightly you shut your eyes.

You couldn’t shake the image of Mattheo and his past. Of all the things he’d done, of all the girls who had been in his life. And here you were—so different from them. You were certain he deserved someone who could keep up with him, someone more experienced, more capable of handling whatever it was that he needed.

What if Mattheo needed someone more experienced—someone who could match the fire in his veins, not melt under it?

Could he really be happy with someone like you?

The ache in your chest tightened. You tried to brush it off, to convince yourself it didn’t matter, that Mattheo wouldn’t care what those girls said. But the words kept echoing, louder with every breath: He’ll get bored. She’s not enough. She can’t keep up.

You’d always known you were different than the girls he'd usually chased. You thought he liked that about you. But… maybe you’d been delusional to think he could feel the same way. Really feel it.

The sadness settled over you like fog—thick, inescapable. You tried to reason with yourself, tried to dismiss the ache as insecurity, paranoia, nothing real. He told you he didn’t mind. He’d said it plainly, truthfully—Veritaserum coursing through his veins, no way to lie. You could take all the time you needed. He liked you, chose you, in spite of your hesitation.

And still, the doubt crept in.

Maybe he had meant it at the time.

But maybe he’d change his mind.

Maybe one day he’d wake up and realize what he was missing. Maybe he’d grow tired of your softness, your innocence, your quiet kind of love.

The ache deepened, dull and steady, like something inside you had cracked and wasn’t going to heal quickly. You curled tighter under the blanket, trying to shut it all out—the voices, the doubt, the image of Mattheo with someone who could give him more than you ever could.

You told yourself it didn’t matter.

You told yourself to stop.

But the feeling wouldn’t leave.

***

The next morning, when Mattheo met you in the corridor, he noticed it instantly.

There was a weariness in your eyes that hadn’t been there before—an invisible weight pressing down on your shoulders. The usual lightness in your step, the spark in your smile, your warmth—all dimmed, like someone had drawn a curtain over you overnight.

“Hey,” He said softly, tilting his head to meet your gaze, “You okay?”

You forced a smile, but it felt brittle—like glass about to crack. “Didn’t sleep well,” You murmured, brushing your hair behind your ear as you looked anywhere but at him. The floor suddenly seemed very interesting.

Mattheo’s brows pulled together. He didn’t press, not yet, but the shift in your energy felt like a punch to the ribs. You were always open with him. Bright, effervescent—sunlight in human form. Seeing you closed off like this, hiding behind half-smiles and lowered eyes, made something twist deep in his chest.

He leaned in for your usual morning kiss—your quiet tradition, simple and grounding. Mattheo loved giving affection, and you adored receiving it, but he’d always let you close the gap. Let you decide. Whether it was a quick kiss, a lingering one, or just a soft touch on the cheek—he followed your lead, always careful not to push your boundaries.

It was something that had always made your heart flutter. His patience. His gentleness with you.

But this morning, all you could think about was Fifth Year—when he’d grabbed the girl he was dating at the time and snogged her senseless in front of half the Great Hall. No hesitation. No care for who was watching. His hand had been tangled in her hair, the other gripping her waist like he needed her closer, and when she’d giggled against his mouth, clinging to him like he was gravity itself, he’d laughed—carefree, cocky, like it was the most natural thing in the world.

It had been effortless for him then. Confident. Public.

Your heart seized.

How much did he have to restrain himself now? How many times had he accepted your fleeting pecks, when he might have wanted more? How often had he pretended it was enough?

A wave of guilt washed over you. You wanted to reach out, to grab him by the tie and kiss him breathless. Maybe then the whispers wouldn’t matter. Maybe then he wouldn’t get bored. Wouldn’t leave.

But even with that desperate thought flickering in your mind, your body didn’t move. There was ice in your veins. Fear anchoring your limbs. So instead, you leaned up just enough to brush your lips against his, featherlight. Barely there.

Mattheo froze.

You always smiled after your kisses—grinned and scrunched your nose, sometimes added a ridiculous muah sound that made him roll his eyes but secretly love you more. But now…

Now, you didn’t even look at him.

“Sunshine,” he said gently, “are you sure you’re okay?”

You sighed, and this time the smile didn’t even try to reach your eyes. “Just feeling… tired,” you murmured, the words barely above a whisper.

He didn’t believe you. Not for a second.

***

The next few days felt like a slow drift—like two ships caught in different tides.

You weren’t as quick to meet him between classes anymore, often ducking into the crowd or lingering behind with classmates until he was gone. You still spoke when you ran into him, but only when he spoke first. Your voice lacked its usual lilt, and the pauses between your words were longer. Heavier. When he asked to see you, you hesitated. “I’ve got homework,” you’d murmur, “I think I’m getting sick.” Excuses—flimsy, transparent.

You didn’t even show up for breakfast.

Your absence was glaring, something his friends immediately picked up on.

“Where’s your sweet little princess, Matty?” Theodore teased around a mouthful of toast, “Too busy with the mice and birds baking a pie?”

Mattheo didn’t answer.

Because in all honesty… he didn’t know where you were. Just like he hadn’t known yesterday. You’d slipped through the day like a ghost, nowhere to be found, avoiding every place he’d looked for you.

He’d even sent an owl that morning. A soft, simple note: Missed you at breakfast. Meet me after class? I miss you.

All he got back was a short reply scribbled hastily on parchment: Sorry, slept in. Was up late. Just really tired. Maybe later.

There was no little kiss-mark of your lip gloss. No sweet spritz of your perfume clinging to the paper. Not even a heart at the end of your sentence.

And it hurt him—visibly, deeply. More than he could ever admit.

Mattheo wasn’t stupid. If anything, he was painfully perceptive when it came to you. He noticed the way your eyes didn’t light up when you saw him anymore. The way you flinched—subtly, but undeniably—when he reached for your hand. How your laughter came less often. How your smile no longer reached your eyes.

You were pulling away.

At first, he tried to play it cool. Maybe you were stressed, maybe you just needed space. He’d seen you have bad days before. But the quiet between you kept growing louder, stretching taut with everything unsaid. Every time he reached out, you slipped further from his grasp—like sand slipping through his fingers, no matter how tightly he tried to hold on.

And it scared him.

Because this time… you weren’t just hesitant. You weren’t just unsure, or overwhelmed, or waiting for him to take the lead.

You were running away.

And he didn’t know why.

***

It had been nearly two weeks.

Two weeks of avoiding his eyes, his touch, his voice. Two weeks of skipping dinners and brushing past him in corridors like he was a stranger. Two weeks of burying the ache in your chest and pretending like you didn’t feel the pull of his absence every second of every day.

And now… you were here.

Standing outside the boys’ dorm, your fist hovering just inches from the door.

You hesitated—long enough to wonder if this was a mistake, long enough to feel the lump rise in your throat again—but then you knocked. Once. Twice.

It creaked open immediately.

“Oh—hey,” Theodore said, surprised but smiling, “Uh… Mattheo’s inside.”

You nodded, not trusting yourself to speak.

Around the room, the other boys lifted their heads. Recognition dawned quickly—followed by an awkward shuffle of movement. They exchanged glances, and then, wordlessly, began to file out.

“We’ll give you two a minute,” Lorenzo said with a wink, nudging Blaise toward the door.

Draco gave you a small, kind smile as he passed, brushing your shoulder gently, “Good to see you again, (Y/N).”

And that made it so much worse.

You swallowed hard. Guilt pooled in your stomach like lead.

When you finally stepped inside, Mattheo was sitting on the edge of his bed, a book abandoned in his lap. His head snapped up the moment he saw you.

“(Y/N),” He breathed, standing quickly, his eyes searching your face, “You—you’re here. Are you okay? Are you finally gonna talk to me?”

He looked so hopeful. So relieved. Like your silence had just been a bad dream he was waking up from.

You couldn’t meet his eyes.

“I wanted to talk,” You said softly, “Can we sit?”

He nodded quickly, motioning for you to sit beside him on the bed. You did, folding your hands tightly in your lap.

He sat close—close enough to touch, to reach for you—but you shifted slightly away, just enough for him to notice.

His smile faltered. “(Y/N)…?”

You forced yourself to breathe, to speak the words that had been lodged in your throat for days. To finally speak the words that had been festering inside your chest like poison.

“I think we should break up.”

Silence.

You couldn’t look at him.

It took him a moment to react—like the words had hit, but the meaning hadn’t quite registered yet.

“What?”

Your heart cracked in your chest.

“I don’t think we’re right for each other, Mattheo.”

He flinched—actually flinched—like you’d slapped him, “What are you talking about?”

“I just…” You struggled to keep your voice steady, “I think we’re too different. You and me. It’s not working. I don’t want to waste your time.”

He was staring at you now—like you’d just confessed something absurd, “You don’t want to waste my—(Y/N), what are you saying? You’re everything to me.”

“Mattheo—”

“No.” He stood suddenly, running a hand through his hair, pacing a few steps like the motion might help him make sense of the spiral, “You’re lying. This isn’t you. Just tell me what’s wrong and I’ll fix it. Is it something I did? I can change. I will change. I’ll do anything. Just—don’t do this.”

You stood, too, voice quieter now, “That’s the thing. Even if you change…it wouldn’t make a difference.”

Because I’m the reason everything is falling apart—but you couldn’t say it.

And Mattheo was standing there like the wind had been knocked out of him.

He opened his mouth—but no words came.

So you left.

You turned on your heel, walked out the door, down the stairs—your legs trembling the entire way. You were halfway across the common room before—

“(Y/N)!” His voice tore through the air like lightning.

You froze.

Then you felt it—his hand wrapping around your wrist, desperate and trembling, pulling you gently back around.

His friends were there, scattered around the couches, watching with wide eyes.

“Can you just please tell me what’s going on?” He asked, breathless and hurting, “I’m not mad—I just… I don’t understand. You don’t even look at me anymore, you’re avoiding me, and now this? If you want space, I’ll give you space. If you need time, I’ll wait. Just… please. Tell me the truth. I can’t fix it if I don’t know what I broke.”

You looked up at him then. His eyes were shining, lips parted, pain carved into every inch of his expression.

And it shattered you.

You shook your head slowly, tears burning at the corners of your eyes.

“You didn’t break anything,” You whispered, “But some things just…can’t be fixed.”

And that was all you gave him before you slipped your wrist out of his hold and walked away—this time, for real.

He didn’t chase you again.

Mattheo stood there, unmoving, eyes locked on the spot where you’d stood.

“What the hell was that?” Blaise asked quietly.

Mattheo didn’t respond.

He just stared at the door, still trying to catch his breath.

“We just broke up,” He said hollowly. Then he sank into the nearest armchair, elbows on his knees, head in his hands. His fingers threaded through his hair, trembling as he blinked rapidly—like the world was spinning too fast, and he couldn’t keep up.

***

It had been nearly a month since the breakup. And every second of it had been hell.

Mattheo wasn’t just off—he was unrecognizable.

He stopped showing up to class unless someone physically dragged him. On the rare occasions he did, he’d sit slouched in the back, hood up, glowering at the floor, snapping at anyone who dared speak to him. He skipped practice. Ignored meals. Picked fights for no reason.

And when Quidditch rolled around? It was brutal.

He played like he had nothing to lose—like every match was a battlefield, every tackle a personal vendetta, every swing of his bat a desperate attempt to release something festering inside. Players left the pitch bruised, limping, bleeding. Referees issued warnings. Professors whispered behind closed doors. Students started walking on eggshells whenever he passed, careful not to catch his eye.

But still… even through all of that, he searched for you.

Every time he walked into a room, his gaze found you. Across the Great Hall, surrounded by your friends. In the courtyard, hunched over your journal. In the corridors, where you kept your head down and your footsteps quick—where you avoided him like it physically hurt to meet his eyes.

Because it did.

Once—just once—you ran into each other between classes.

You turned a corner and there he was.

His steps halted. Your breath caught.

“(Y/N)—” He breathed, his voice low and hopeful, like he wasn’t sure if he was dreaming.

But you couldn’t look at him. You ducked your head and brushed past, your heart hammering in your chest.

You kept walking, fast, willing yourself not to cry.

And just before you rounded the corner, you paused.

Just for a second.

You glanced back, hoping—aching—for even the smallest sign that he was looking back.

Mattheo didn’t see your heartbroken gaze.

But Evangeline certainly did.

***

“This is ridiculous.” Theo muttered one night, slamming his book shut.

Blaise didn't look up from his game of exploding snap with Enzo, “He didn’t even show up to practice today.”

“He was out back,” Enzo said quietly, “Feeding her cats at the shelter again."

The tension in the Slytherin common room was already thick when the door opened and four girls stepped inside.

Evangeline, Lila, Daisy, and Imari strode in with a kind of urgent determination that made every conversation falter mid-sentence. Heads turned. Even Draco glanced up from where he sat lounging by the fireplace.

When him and the others saw the girls heading straight for them, their expressions shifted from curiosity to mild alarm.

“You lot,” Evangeline said firmly, folding her arms as they approached, “We need to talk.”

“Uh…” Theo blinked, “Hi?”

Lila didn’t waste time, “It’s about (Y/N).”

That got their attention.

Blaise sighed and put down the Exploding Snap cards.

“She’s not eating,” Daisy said quietly, “I’ve been sitting with her at meals, and she hardly touches anything. She’s barely there. Her eyes are dead, and I know she’s been crying herself to sleep every night. I can't watch it anymore."

Imari added sharply, “And she won’t tell us what happened. All we know is that she broke up with Mattheo, and ever since then, it’s like we’re living with a ghost.”

The boys exchanged glances—uneasy, guilt-ridden glances.

“Well,” Theodore exhaled, running a hand through his curls, “if it makes you feel any better, Mattheo’s not exactly thriving either.”

Draco snorted, “Thriving? He’s on the verge of a full mental collapse.”

“He’s stopped going to class,” Blaise muttered, “He’s smoking like a chimney again. Got detention twice last week for fighting.”

Lorenzo chimed in, “He damn near took someone’s head off at Quidditch. We’re this close to him being benched for the rest of the season—or expelled.”

Evangeline’s expression softened slightly, “So… they’re both miserable.”

“Clearly,” Theo muttered, leaning against the arm of the couch, “But what are we supposed to do about it?”

That’s when Imari stepped forward, her arms crossed tightly over her chest. She fixed the boys with a hard look, “You all know Mattheo better than anyone. What the hell is he doing to fix this?”

Theo’s eyebrows shot up, “Why does Mattheo have to fix anything? (Y/N) dumped him out of nowhere and shattered his heart! Some Hufflepuff sweetheart she turned out to be!”

Lila stepped forward defensively, “She must’ve had a good reason! Mattheo must’ve done something—he’s obviously in the wrong!”

“You shut your Hufflepuff mouth,” Draco snapped, standing up as the tension in the room heightened.

“Enough,” Evangeline snapped, eyes flashing, “This isn’t about blame. We’re not here to fight—we’re here to help them. Or did you all miss the part where they’re both completely wrecked without each other?”

Theo blinked, “…Damn. I like an assertive woman.”

Evangeline didn’t even look at him, instead turning her attention back to the boys, "We need to help them. They’re both falling apart, and if we don’t do something now, it’s only going to get worse."

Imari glanced at the guys, her eyes narrowing as she thought for a moment. Then, a smirk tugged at her lips. She stood up straight, crossing her arms as she looked them over, "I’ve got an idea."

***

It was just past sunset when you heard a stampede of frantic footsteps charging up the stairs to your dorm room. You barely stirred from bed, buried deep in a cocoon of blankets and silence.

Then the door burst open.

“Does anyone have gauze? Or a healing salve? Lila, where’s the bloody first aid kit?!”

The chaos jolted you upright.

Imari was digging through drawers like her life depended on it. Daisy was pacing, hair a mess, muttering under her breath. Lila had inexplicably opened your wardrobe and was rifling through your jumpers. Evangeline was trying—and failing—to look composed.

You blinked, “What’s going on?”

“We found a baby owl,” Daisy rushed out, breathless, scrambling to your bedside, “Abandoned on the Astronomy Tower. Its wing’s all bent—it can’t fly.”

“—and it was crying,” Lila added dramatically, dabbing at imaginary tears, “Little squeaky hoots, like it was calling for help.”

Your heart lurched, “Wait—what? Is it still up there?”

“Yeah, we didn’t want to risk hurting it more by moving it,” Imari said, voice sharp with urgency, “We were grabbing supplies, but honestly, you’re the best with animals, (Y/N). Could you go? Please?”

You were already tossing off your blanket, “Of course. Where?”

“Astronomy Tower,” Evangeline said, “By the west-facing window.”

“We’ll be right behind you with the kit,” Lila added, pushing the nearly empty first aid box into Imari’s arms.

“Go on,” Daisy said gently, “Poor thing’s probably terrified.”

Without another word, you slipped on your shoes and bolted for the door.

The second you were gone, the girls sagged in relief.

“We’ve been trying to get her out of bed for weeks and all it took was a fake injured animal?” Lila muttered.

“She’s too pure for this world,” Daisy sighed.

“I love her for it,” Evangeline said softly.

“Right?” Imari smirked, “Now we just need the guys to hold up their end of the bargain.”

Meanwhile, in the Slytherin dorm…

“Oi, Mattheo,” Blaise called casually, leaning against the doorframe, “Fancy a smoke?”

Mattheo didn’t even glance up. He was slouched in his desk chair, hood up, fingers twitching idly. But after a pause, he sighed and stood, “Sure.”

They walked in silence, the kind that made everything feel heavier. No jokes. No jabs. Just thick, uncomfortable quiet.

Halfway to the courtyard, Theo suddenly froze, smacking his pockets, “Shit.”

Mattheo frowned, “What?”

“My lighter. Left it in the dorm.”

Mattheo narrowed his eyes, “Use your wand?”

Theo blinked, “Uh… right. That would make sense.”

Mattheo stared at him.

Draco stepped in, cool as ever, “Ignore him. Dropped on his head too many times as a child. Just head up to the Astronomy Tower—we’ll catch up.”

Mattheo’s expression tightened, “Why the Astronomy Tower?”

“Best view. Less wind. Good vibes,” Blaise said, waving him off, “Go on. We’ll be right there.”

Mattheo looked at them for a long second. Suspicious. Then he turned and headed toward the tower alone.

As soon as he was gone, the boys broke formation.

“Do you think he’s going to punch someone if this goes wrong?” Lorenzo asked.

“Definitely,” Draco muttered, “I’m blaming that halfwit Imari. This plan is ridiculous.”

“I don’t know,” Theo said thoughtfully, “Evangeline seems like she knows what she’s doing.”

Draco narrowed his eyes, “Theo’s kink is women telling him he’s stupid.”

Theo shrugged, “Not denying it.”

***

You ran up the stairs to the Astronomy Tower, lungs burning, trying to quiet your breathing so you could listen for the pained hoots of an injured owl.

But then you saw him.

“Mattheo?” You breathed, freezing in the doorway.

He leaned against the far wall, bathed in the fading light of sunset, his posture tense, eyes sharp with disbelief, “What are you doing here?”

“I—I didn’t know you’d be—”

The door slammed shut behind you with a heavy clang.

You both spun around, “What the hell?!”

“YOU’RE WELCOME!” Came Theo’s smug voice, muffled through the thick wood, “Not unlocking this ‘til you two sort your shit out!”

“DON’T BOTHER SCREAMING!” Imari added cheerfully, “It’s soundproofed!”

Mattheo stormed to the door, yanking at the handle and pounding his fist against the wood, “This isn’t fucking funny, Theo! Open the door!”

You stood frozen, caught between panic and the overwhelming urge to melt into the floor.

“Mattheo—”

“Honestly, what the fuck were they thinking?” He snapped, pacing now, furious, “Let’s just trap us in a room together, yeah? Brilliant. Force her to spend time with the monster she couldn’t wait to get away from.”

Your chest clenched, “You’re not a monster.”

He laughed bitterly, “Right. That’s why you couldn’t even look at me when you ended things.”

You flinched.

“You didn’t even say anything real,” He continued, voice rising, “Just some vague crap about how we weren’t compatible—like that wasn’t a complete lie.”

You stared at the floor, throat tight, “It wasn’t about you, Mattheo.”

“Oh, no?” His voice cracked, “Could’ve fooled me.”

Your fists clenched at your sides, “It wasn’t you. It’s me, okay?!”

He froze, “What?”

You couldn’t stop the words now, even as your voice wavered, “It was me. I’m the problem. I can’t give you what you need. I’m inexperienced and clumsy and it was only a matter of time before you realized you deserved better—someone who could give you the kind of relationship you actually want.”

He looked like you’d just struck him.

“I didn’t want it to get to my head,” You whispered, tears spilling down your cheeks, “But I couldn’t stop thinking about how I wasn’t making you as happy as you made me. I wasn’t enough. And every time I saw you, it hurt… and I just didn’t want it to hurt anymore.”

“(Y/N)…” He breathed, shaking his head, “I told you so many times. I promised you—we wouldn’t go faster than what you wanted. What you needed.”

“But what about your needs?” You cried, voice cracking, “Why should you have to restrain yourself and ignore what you want just because I’m too scared to give it? What makes me worth that sacrifice?”

Mattheo was stunned silent.

Then, in the quiet, his voice broke through like a prayer, “Because I’m in love with you, (Y/N).”

You froze.

“I love you for who you are. There isn’t another girl in this bloody castle—or the world—who’s as kind and selfless as you. I told you before—I’ve never felt like this with anyone else. And I don’t want to. I’m not going anywhere.”

He stepped closer, voice softer but no less intense.

“I don’t love you in spite of your caution—I love you because of it. Because every time you trust me, even just a little, I know I’m getting a part of you no one else has. That means something to me. That connects me to you in a way I’ve never felt with anyone else.”

His eyes searched yours, earnest and unwavering.

“So if you want to take things slow? That’s fine. If you want to join a convent and die a virgin—I’ll turn into a priest.”

That startled a teary laugh out of you.

“All I need is you, (Y/N). In whatever way you can give me.”

And then, in a blur of movement, he crossed the room and wrapped you in his arms so tightly it knocked the air from your lungs.

“You stupid, beautiful idiot,” He whispered into your hair, voice shaking, “You think I’d ever stop loving you?”

You sobbed into his chest, gripping the back of his shirt like it was the only thing keeping you grounded.

“I don’t care what anyone says,” He murmured, “I don’t care if you’re scared, or shy, or awkward—I. Don’t. Care. You’re mine, (Y/N). That’s all I’ve ever wanted.”

“I just didn’t want to disappoint you.” You hiccuped.

“You couldn’t,” He said fiercely, “You never could.”

You pulled back just enough to see his face—his eyes were glassy, rimmed red, but so, so soft.

He cupped your cheek, kissed your forehead. Then your temple. Your cheek. Every inch he could reach without letting go.

“I love you,” He whispered, like a vow, “And I’m gonna keep loving you—no matter how long it takes you to believe me.”

“I—I love you too,” you whispered back, trembling.

And this time, you kissed him first—wrapping your arms around his neck and molding your lips to his, harder than ever before. Not because you felt like you had to, but because you missed him.

You missed him so much.

The stars above bore witness—not to an ending, but a return.

***

Bonus:

You stirred your cup of hot cocoa lazily, a playful smirk tugging at your lips as you watched both groups of your friends awkwardly glance at one another. The kitchens were warm and buzzing with laughter, but a hint of tension from earlier still lingered in the air.

“Unbelievable,” You said, looking more upset than you were considering your eyes were still red and your cheeks were still blotchy, “Lying about a poor injured baby animal like that.”

Lila, ever the spokesperson, threw her hands up with an exasperated groan, “We’re sorry, (Y/N). But you were so depressed! It was horrible. We didn’t know what else to do.”

You raised a brow, grin deepening, “So you told the depressed girl to go to the only place in the castle with a balcony?”

The room went dead silent. Everyone exchanged panicked looks as the weight of that unintended implication sunk in.

Then—your laughter broke the silence, bright and sudden, echoing off the stone walls. The sound was so unexpected that they all visibly relaxed, joining in with nervous chuckles.

Mattheo, seated beside you, leaned in and pressed a kiss to your knuckles, his voice quiet and steady. “Don’t talk like that,” he murmured, his lips brushing your skin, “I don’t like hearing it.”

You blinked up at him, momentarily caught off guard by the tenderness in his tone. His gaze was soft but serious, full of something fiercely protective.

A quiet warmth spread in your chest, and you gave his hand a gentle squeeze. “Okay,” You whispered, your smile softer now.

Across the table, Theo let out an exaggerated groan, “And now we have the pleasure of witnessing the tooth-rotting fluff. Again.”

“They’re adorable. Stop being mean,” Evangeline shot back, smacking him lightly on the shoulder.

Theo perked up, undeterred, “Maybe I wouldn’t be so mean if I had some teeth-rotting sugar of my own.”

Evangeline looked genuinely disturbed, “I’d rather third-wheel their disgustingly cheesy romance, thanks.”

“Alright, alright,” Daisy cut in, raising her mug in a faux-toasting motion, “How about we all agree to be mildly happy for them and get back to celebrating the fact that they’re no longer moody shells of human beings.”

“Agreed,” Blaise added, lifting his own cup with mock solemnity, “For the greater good of us all.”

***

Forever Taglist:

@simonsbluee

@notslaybabes

@superheroesaremyjam113263

@writers-whirlwind