#Unlock screen time passcode

[jojo1313113]

Welcome to our tutorial on unlocking Screen Time without your passcode – methods that work on all iPhone and iPad models and versions.

[rafes-slut]

You go through his phone while he is asleep

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x insecure!reader

Warnings: Mild angst, insecurity, emotional vulnerability, slight language, mentions of trust issues, obsessive behavior (romanticized), fluff ending, implied possessiveness, toxic undertones.

Word Count: ~2,000

Rafe was asleep beside you, sprawled out and tangled in the sheets, one arm loosely draped across your waist. His bare chest rose and fell steadily, the subtle warmth of his breath brushing against your shoulder each time he exhaled. The room was quiet, dark, the only light coming from the moon slicing through the half-open blinds, painting silver stripes across the floor and bed.

You should’ve been asleep too. His hand on you should’ve made you feel safe. It always did. But tonight? It wasn’t enough to calm the storm brewing in your chest.

Your eyes drifted over to his phone on the nightstand. Unlocked. Open. Screen dimly lit from his earlier scrolling before he’d knocked out cold beside you.

You hesitated.

You hated this feeling—this gnawing, twisting doubt in your stomach. You hated the part of you that didn’t trust him. The part that whispered maybe he wasn’t as loyal as he claimed to be. Maybe there was someone else. Someone he talked to when you weren’t around. Someone prettier, bolder. Someone who didn’t flinch every time she felt insecure.

But you couldn’t ignore it anymore. Not tonight.

You slowly shifted out from under his arm, careful not to wake him. His body moved slightly, muscles flexing unconsciously, but he stayed dead asleep—mouth slightly parted, brows soft for once. He looked so peaceful. And that only made the guilt worse.

Still, you picked up his phone.

It felt like betrayal just holding it.

The screen blinked awake with a tap of your finger. No passcode. He never had one. Always said he didn’t need to hide anything from you. But words weren’t enough. Not anymore.

You opened his messages first. Scrolling through thread after thread. Mostly short conversations with the guys. Some group chats about parties, some random memes. But nothing suspicious. Nothing flirty. Nothing that made your heart sink.

Then you checked Instagram.

You braced yourself.

His DMs were mostly dry. A couple of unread requests. One from some girl you recognized from around the island—Kook girl with perfect lashes and a smile too flirty for her own good. But it was her who messaged him, not the other way around. And the message was sitting there, unopened. Ignored.

You stared at it for a moment before backing out.

Snapchat. Same story.

Nothing. No saved chats. No flirty pictures. Just some snaps from Topper and Kelce and you. Mostly you.

You opened the camera roll.

Your breath caught.

Hundreds of pictures. Almost all of you. Some of you asleep. Some of you laughing at something stupid he said. Selfies you didn’t even know he took. Pictures of you from behind while you were walking ahead of him. Close-ups of your smile. Your bare shoulder peeking from his sweatshirt. Your hand in his. Your legs wrapped around his waist from a night you barely remembered. Screenshots of your texts. Voice memos labeled with your name.

Your throat tightened.

You scrolled and scrolled, eyes wide, heart racing. The obsession was… clear. Maybe even overwhelming.

And then you found a folder labeled with your name and a little heart.

Inside were more photos. Notes. A recording of you humming in the car. A screen recording of a video you posted months ago. A text he wrote but never sent:

“I know I act like a dick sometimes but God, I love her. I’d burn everything for her. I just don’t know how to say it without sounding like a freak.”

You stared at the screen, blinking hard.

Then his voice cut through the silence, low and groggy.

“…What are you doing?”

Your heart dropped.

You turned slowly, guilt flushing your face, phone still in hand.

Rafe was awake now, barely, propped on one elbow. His hair was a mess, eyes heavy with sleep, but the way he looked at you—soft and confused—made your stomach twist.

“I…” you stammered, setting the phone back on the nightstand like it burned. “I just—I couldn’t sleep.”

He blinked at you. Then looked at his phone. Then back at you.

“You went through my phone?” he asked quietly.

You swallowed hard, unable to meet his eyes. “Yeah.”

He was silent for a long moment. You expected him to snap. To get pissed. To accuse you of not trusting him. But instead, he just let out a breath, voice lower now.

“Did you find anything?”

You shook your head. “No.”

He leaned closer, reaching out to gently tilt your chin up until your eyes met his.

“Baby… why would you think I’d do that to you?”

“I don’t know,” you whispered. “I just… I’ve seen how girls look at you. And I guess I just needed to know. I needed proof.”

“And you thought I was fucking around behind your back?” There wasn’t anger in his voice—just something that sounded like hurt.

“I didn’t want to. I just… sometimes you make me feel like I don’t really know where I stand with you.”

He studied you for a long second. Then he sat up fully, pulling you gently into his lap, wrapping both arms around you as your legs folded over his.

“I don’t talk to anyone else,” he said, lips brushing the side of your head. “I don’t want anyone else.”

You stayed quiet, cheek pressed to his bare chest.

“I’m obsessed with you, you know that, right?” he muttered, almost like he was embarrassed to admit it. “Like… completely fucked in the head about you.”

You finally laughed a little, tears pricking your eyes. “I figured that out.”

He pulled back just enough to look at you.

“I take those pictures of you because I miss you even when you’re in the same room. I keep your texts because I like reading them when I’m alone. I don’t keep anything from you. Ever.”

You nodded slowly, finally understanding the depth of it. The way he loved you wasn’t always healthy or easy—but it was real. Intense. Borderline obsessive. But real.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered. “I shouldn’t have looked.”

“I’m not mad,” he said. “Just… talk to me next time, yeah? You don’t have to wonder. I’ll tell you everything.”

“Okay.”

He pressed a kiss to your lips—slow, firm, full of promise.

Then again, softer.

He whispered, lips brushing your cheek. “Only mine. And I’m yours. Always.”

[heich0e]

rintarou's sheets are scratchy.

they're new, and haven't yet gone through the wash enough times to properly soften. they haven't been slept on enough times to be fully broken in. you know he bought them because you always used to tease him about his old sheets: faded with some holes in them—a mismatched fitted sheet and top sheet in two different shades of blue, unbefitting of a grown man making grown man money.

so, he got new ones.

these new sheets are green, in the exact shade you like so much—the one you always point out when the two of you are walking in the park near your office on your lunch break. he sent you a picture of the package when he got them home, fishing for praise you refused to give him for doing the bare minimum. they're nice sheets, though. expensive, organic cotton with a high thread count.

but right now, they're scratchy.

and they're irritating you as you lay tangled up in them, the top sheet wrapped around your waist like a belt and twisted around one of your bare legs. you must have been tossing and turning a lot in your sleep, because when you properly rouse from your slumber to take inventory of your surroundings, the first thing you notice is that you're practically knotted into the stiff, new cotton.

you extract yourself from the blankets, stumbling a little towards the door in a fog, and make your way from rintarou's bedroom in the direction of the kitchen.

"oh," rintarou perks up once you appear around the corner, his eyes bright when they spot you. "you're up."

you shuffle around the kitchen counter towards him, your head heavy and pounding, your mouth dry. you feel nauseated, and without thinking, you slump against him with your forehead pressing into the valley between his shoulder blades. you're confused. you're hungover. but he's warm, and smells like laundry detergent. suddenly you feel a little less queasy.

"what's going on?" you grumble into his back. you peel yourself away from him, blinking slowly, and sweep your gaze around the room to get a better sense of things.

suna holds up a frying pan and a whisk. "i'm cooking!"

you blink again. "okay?"

it's not what you meant when you asked him your first question, but rintarou simply smiles. he has an almost puppy-like personality when he gets like this—you can almost picture ears atop his head and a tail wagging happily as he stares down at you.

"how'd i get here last night?"

rintarou freezes, but only for a moment. he quickly turns his back to you again to continue on whatever misguided culinary adventure he'd been attempting before you woke up. "you were pretty drunk."

"my seniors kept egging me on," you complain, rubbing your forehead as the hazy memory surfaces from the night before. it was a company dinner you couldn't get out of, and it had quickly spiralled out of hand. "i don't even remember leaving."

rintarou laughs a little. but he still won't look at you.

"suna."

he doesn't turn, whisking something you can't identify but that you're almost certain should not be whisked in a bowl in front of him on the counter.

"suna." you repeat yourself again.

suddenly, a wave of nausea overtakes you.

no.

no.

you pat yourself down in search of your phone, but the attempt is useless. you're dressed in one of rintarou's t-shirts and boxers, neither of which come equipped with any pockets, and your phone is nowhere to be found. you whip your head around in search of it, but don't spot it anywhere in the immediate vicinity.

"hey—" rintarou finally looks at you when he senses your alarm, and his tone mirrors your own panic. "don't—!"

you swipe his cellphone off the counter in front of him, using the passcode you'd managed to weasel out of him a few months ago to unlock the device and navigate to his call log. you take off running as you tap your way through the various screens on his phone, but he's quickly in pursuit of you—leaving whatever he'd had on the stove to burn like he world's saddest funeral pyre.

"stop, stop!" rintarou is faster than you are, and has longer legs, but even by the time he catches you, you've already found what you're looking for in his call history. he snakes an arm around your waist, pulling you down onto his sofa with him in the living room, and the two of you land in a tangle of limbs against the cushions, your breathing laboured.

"i didn't make this call, did i?" you ask meekly, pointing at a brief call in the late hours of the night prior that sits at the top of his call history. it's from your number, but you're confident you hadn't been the one to dial.

rintarou pouts a little bit, avoiding your eyes. after a moment he shakes his head. you groan, rolling over on the sofa underneath him and hiding your face in your hands.

"i wasn't even there long, i promise," rintarou says, his voice impossibly close because of the way the two of you are sprawled across the sofa. his breath is warm against the column of your throat when he speaks.

you refuse to look at him.

"i didn't even say anything embarassing."

you still don't budge.

"i made sure to thank your coworkers for calling me to come get you and everything."

your hangover has been overtaken by your own mortification, a horrible heat creeping up your face to accompany the taste of bile in your throat. you've been so, so careful not to let your relationship and your career overlap thus far. so cautious about introducing rintarou into parts of your life that would make it even harder to face if or when the time came that he wasn't around anymore.

"are you embarrassed of me?"

his question makes your chest ache. the way he says it twists the knife.

you lift your face from your hands and peek at him over your shoulder. he's so close that your noses almost brush.

"no." you mean it.

the anxiety in rintarou's gaze eases. he presses closer.

"you sure?"

you narrow your eyes at him. "depends. were you wearing that awful yellow track suit?"

rintarou laughs, all breath, and then dips down to kiss you softly. you want to complain that you haven't even brushed your teeth yet, or that you kind of feel like you might be sick, or that whatever he was trying to cook is on the brink of burning down the building. but you don't. you just let him rest on top of you. you let yourself enjoy it.

when he finally pulls away, rintarou has a somewhat sly smile on his face.

"what, rin?" you ask him gently.

"just wondering if now that i've met your coworkers you're going to let me come visit you at lunch, or if you're still gonna make me hide in the park."

"i like the park," you pout.

because the park is green, the colour you like so much. like rintarou's scratchy bedsheets. and his eyes.

"okay, okay," he laughs, pressing his forehead against yours. "i like the park, too."

[mahowaga]

your phone buzzes in your hands as you scroll mindlessly. you glance at the message preview for a second—just a message from a group chat, one of many—and go back to scrolling.

and that's when it happens.

out of nowhere, like some kind of smug white-haired hawk, gojo satoru swoops in and snatches your phone from your hands with a victorious, "aha!"

"satoru!" you shout, scrambling after him immediately.

but he's already halfway across the living room, standing triumphantly on the other side of the coffee table like he's just stolen the declaration of independence.

his grin is positively feral. "let's see what secrets you're hiding from me, hmm?"

you stare at him, completely unamused. "what are you, twelve?"

"emotionally? maybe," he chirps, flipping the phone around dramatically in his hands. "now then, what spicy stuff do we have in here? hidden chats? secret admirers? is your wallpaper still me wearing sunglasses over my blindfold?"

you cross your arms. "give. it. back."

he holds the phone up like it's an olympic torch. "nope. not until i confirm you're not part of some underground spy ring."

"i literally let you eat off my plate. why would i hide anything from you?"

"suspiciously defensive," he says, squinting at the screen and pretending to scroll even though he hasn't unlocked it yet. "what's your passcode again? your birthday? my birthday? the number of times i've been right in an argument?"

you glare. "try zero."

"ouch," he grins. "cold. but fair."

you plop onto the couch, arms still crossed. "are you done?"

"nope," he says cheerfully. "i'm fully committed to this investigation. as your incredibly handsome and slightly unhinged boyfriend, it is my duty to discover the truth."

"the truth is i'm dating a pest in gucci sunglasses."

he gasps, hand clutching his chest. "you take that back!"

"only if you give me my phone."

he considers this with an exaggerated hum, pacing back and forth like he's on the verge of solving a great mystery. "you know if you were hiding something, this is exactly how you'd act."

you throw a pillow at him. he dodges effortlessly. "i'm annoyed, not guilty!"

he finally stops pacing and stares at the screen. "wait. your passcode is literally my birthday?"

you groan and throw your hands in the air. "congratulations, detective gojo, you cracked the case."

he beams. "aww, you like me."

"i tolerate you."

he unlocked the phone with a smug flourish, only for his expression to immediately drop. "wait—there's nothing in here."

"wow," you deadpan. "shocking."

he stares at the screen, then looks at you. "your most recent text is you asking your friend if it's okay to put ten cloves of garlic in pasta."

"there is no such thing as too much garlic."

"i'm actually really disappointed in you. where's the scandal? where's the mystery man? the forbidden double life?"

you sigh and hold your hand out. "give me the phone, satoru."

he walks over slowly, dejected. "you're boring," he says, placing the phone back in your palm. "adorably, tragically boring."

"and you," you say, locking your phone again, "are never touching my phone again."

"oh, come on," he pouts, collapsing onto the couch beside you. "just one juicy secret? just one? i'll settle for a weird shopping history. you don't even have a secret pinterest board of wedding dresses."

you narrow your eyes at him. "that's because you already do."

"hey," he says defensively, "a man can dream!"

you shove him with your shoulder and he immediately drapes himself over you like a weighted blanket with chaotic energy.

"next time," you mutter, "i'm locking it with your middle name. good luck remembering which fake one you gave me."

satoru's laugh is muffled against your shoulder. and despite everything, you can't help but smile.

because satoru, with all his pranks and dramatics, still ends up exactly where he always does—right next to you, grinning like an idiot, with no secrets between you.

just you, him, and the comforting knowledge that the most scandalous thing in your phone is a saved photo of him sleeping with a mouthful of marshmallows.

[reminiscingtonight]

Tech Support

Alexia Putellas & Putellas!Reader (Jana Fernández x Putellas!Reader)

Word Count: 1.2k

[WOSO Masterlist]

“So I am… supposed to click this?”

Alexia’s hand is swatted away at record speed before she can make contact with the screen.

“No, this one.”

Who would’ve thought. Captain of the country. Legend of your club. The La Reina may be feared by players worldwide, but even she could be beaten by something as simple as a new phone.

The two of you have been at this for a couple hours now.

When your sister first slid the box across the table at you, your eyes nearly bulged out of your head. You didn’t even have time to thank Alexia before she crushed your dreams right then and there. What you first thought was a present for you turned out to be a resigned plea for help.

As the resident tech genius you were high in demand. Last week it was setting up your mami’s tablet. Yesterday it was fixing Olga’s laptop. And today it seems to be Alexia’s turn.

Though now that you think about it, “genius” may be a stretch. It’s not until the third time you stop yourself from throwing Alexia’s phone at her that she lets it slip that Alba was actually her first call for help. It’s no surprise to hear that your middle sister was quick to refuse, given that the last time she helped Alexia set up a phone resulted in heated words and staunch refusal to speak to one another for two weeks.

Given that she’s your club captain the loss in communication is something you can’t risk, but you’ve always thought of yourself as gifted when it comes to technology. If you could teach your mami how to use facebook without spamming her personal page with posts about you and your sisters, surely helping Alexia transfer her data and set up a new phone would not be too hard of a challenge.

Oh how you’re wrong.

Though you’re only eight years younger than Alexia, she still manages to struggle as if she’s well into her nineties.

Ask if she’s backed up her data? Might as well have told her to recite the first fifteen digits of pi.

Ask if she’s taken note of the apps she needs to redownload? Might as well have asked if she knew the secret to happiness.

Tell her to grant certain apps permissions to her phone? Might as well have told her you were transferring to Real Madrid.

Ask her to re-sign back into her multitude of accounts? Might as well have asked her to transfer to Real Madrid.

If you had known just how teeth pulling this would be, you would have left Olga to deal with Alexia herself.

Despite your clear and well-informed instructions of what to click where, which settings to enable or disable, Alexia kept bulldozing through your words, thinking she knew better.

Spoiler, she did not.

Jana’s already been by to give you some words of encouragement, but after the fifth time you quietly asked if she could make up an excuse to drag you out, she hunkered down on a nearby couch with Olga. The two of them, traitors at heart, are having a blast watching some trashy reality tv show while you struggle away with Alexia.

At this point you’re one more question away from factory resetting Alexia’s new phone, but a promise from Olga to buy you lunch and a burning desire to prove to Alba that you’re a better teacher than she is leaves you clinging to the last piece of sanity you have.

After what seems like an eternity, Alexia finally sits back from where she’s been hunched over your shoulder, poking and prodding at her phone.

“I still don’t understand why I have to set up a passcode when I could just use my fingerprint to unlock everything.”

The only word capable of describing Alexia at this moment in time is brooding. Arms crossed, face drawn in a frown, your thirty-year-old sister is brooding over your insistence at setting a passcode.

You sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose. “What if you’re at training and you need Mapi to pull up something from your phone while your hands are busy?”

Alexia huffs, smile on her face as she thinks she’s got you. “Simple, I would never trust Maria with my phone!”

“Ale!” you groan. “That’s not the point.”

She’s not wrong. The last person to mistakenly trust the blonde haired woman with their unlocked phone received the device back with fifteen added stories to their instagram account. Though that was on the tamer side of what the defender was capable of, no one’s really let her borrow their phone since.

You catch Jana’s twinkling eyes over the back of the couch as she shares a giggle with Olga.

“Okay, what if I get hurt on the pitch and you’re too busy consoling me? I’m sure Jana would appreciate being able to use your phone to call mami to let her know I’ve been hurt.”

Alexia rolls her eyes. “First, Jana already has mami’s phone number. Pretty sure she likes your girlfriend more than the both of us.”

The number of times Eli has called you just to ask if Jana would be coming over for a family dinner would be insulting if you weren’t smitten with the idea of your girlfriend having fit right into your own family. Though the two of you haven’t officially been together long, years of friendship meant Eli was more than delighted when she found out the two of you were together. It also meant she was quick to catch Jana up on any and all family events she was hosting.

“Also, that’s not a problem because mami never misses one of our games so she’d already be there!”

It’s almost as if Olga can see the steam coming out of your ears. She’s quick to walk over, rubbing you back apologetically before throwing an arm around Alexia’s shoulder.

“Would you please set one for me, amor? Sometimes I misplace my phone and yours is closer.”

It’s maddening the way Alexia instantly starts nodding like a lovesick puppy. She plucks the phone right out of your hands, swiping until she can get to the right screen.

From over Alexia’s shoulder Olga gives you a wink.

With her girlfriend wrapped tightly around her, you take your cue to exit.

Jana opens her arms wide and you enter willingly. The older girl chuckles when you instantly bury your face against her stomach, arms tightening around her legs.

“I wanna go home,” you grumble, ignoring the way you can feel the vibrations of Jana’s laughter.

“Don’t you wanna stay for lunch?”

As much as you loathe the hours wasted on Alexia, the promise of free sushi did sound pretty good. All you have in your fridge is some leftover pasta from the night before, and you’re never one to pass up free food.

“Hermanita, what’s this I’m seeing about unlocking my phone with my face?”

You stiffen.

On second thought, leftovers didn’t sound too bad.

[emoisthenewemu]

YUTA OKKOTSU SMAU SERIES

SUMMARY: It seems like everyone is beginning to catch on to your lovely stalker, everyone except you of course.

TEXT AT THE BOTTOM!

pt1, pt2, pt3, pt4, pt5, pt7

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

。。。・゜★

Later on in the evening you walk to the convenience store for a late night snack run with the girls, Yuta finds himself rushing to see you. He was right—Gojo went on forever about the responsibilities of being a special grade, how the higher-ups expect sorcerers these days to act nonhuman, the way they are treated as weapons. It felt more like a therapy session than anything, clearly the white haired man was going through some stuff and Yuta just figures that he trusts his student enough to talk about it. He does appreciate the sentiment, although he would be lying if he said he listened to most of it. More than half of that time was spent thinking about you.

He feels like something bad is going to happen, chest heavy with guilt. The teen is no stranger to anxiety but lately it has all been so much worse. He's not sure if It's the constant lying is getting to him or if it's all the missions. He has nightmares, people question the bags under his eyes but no one knows the things he has seen. But you, you are his escape.

Perhaps that is too much pressure to put on a person, especially one he cannot admit his feelings to. If only you knew just how much he cared. 

The second thing on his mind was the phone. The stupid phone he threw out the window and has not seen since. It has to be somewhere on Toge's person. He'll find it, that's what matters. And speak of the devil, he happens to run into Toge—who is exiting Itadori's room with Panda.

Meanwhile Itadori is trying to make more room for everyone to get comfortable-throwing random crap in the closet and shuffling everything around. Megumi watches judgmentally.

"You invite everyone over and you didn't even clean your room?" He scoffs.

"I honestly thought no one would show up"

Thud! Something falls from Toge's bag, a phone with no case and no screen protector—it's all cracked up.

"Jeez what the hell is this?" Yuji picks up the device. "What business does Inumaki have carrying two phones around" Megumi grumbles, too disinterested to give an answer. Until Yuji gasps. "Do you...think he's selling drugs?"

"What? No, you idiot!"

"Well then for what?" Yuji unlocks the phone with ease, no passcode necessary. He laughs, immediately going to the messages.

Yet he only finds two message threads, one of the contact names reads 'Gojo Sensei'. Okay, makes sense. But the other one reads far more peculiar; Angel. Clicking on it shamelessly he is met with weeks worth of texts, he giggles, figuring Inumaki has a secret girlfriend or something. Oh, they are sooo about to clown on him. However the more he scrolls the more he realizes who this Angel person may be. Throw in the regular use of the word 'stalker' and creep, and it is all starting to click.

The pink haired boy gasps again, this time more dramatically. "Oh my god!"

"What?" Finally, Megumi's interest is peaked.

"Inumaki is yn's stalker!"

"What? There's no way!" Fushiguro stands up from his spot on Yuji's bed—grabbing the phone to see for himself. "I.....thought it was Okkotsu.." He admits, a bit discouraged that he was wrong for once. He thought it was quite obvious actually. Yuji nods in agreement.

"Put it away before he comes back!" Itadori tries to snatch it back.

The door flies open, it looks as if Inumaki was pushed through it. Megumi and Itadori are caught like a deer in headlights, Okkotsu shoves Toge to the side rather aggressively. He looks mad. The first years look...guilty. They avoid eye contact for reasons unknown. Itadori's hands are stuck behind his back, almost like he is hiding something. Yuta's eyes dart down to the unzipped backpack, he looks back up at them. They are practically having a conversation with their eyes, Yuji's eyebrows furrow—very obviously confused, Megumi gives nothing as always.

Toge cannot help but notice that Yuji seems to be holding something. He pulls his scarf down. "Show me your hands".

Thud! The phone hits the floor as Itadori extends his arms out, Panda gasps.

"Ohh shit" He laughs much to the dismay of Yuta who picks the phone up in one swift motion, careful to hold it away from Toge.

"What did you see?" Okkotsu questions.

"Nothing!"

"You're yn's stalker" Megumi deadpans, the complete opposite of his friend who is currently sweating bullets.

Toge laughs, squeezing by his stunned friend who is frozen in his place. He pats Megumi on the shoulder, a sly smile on his face. Panda finds himself a seat, very obviously amused with the situation. "So glad this is all out in the open now" He breathes a sigh of relief. "All this lying stresses me out"

"Stressing you out?" Yuta groans, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Imagine how I feel"

"Why don't you just tell her?" Yuji queries.

"Yeah, tell her you're a weird stalker. That'll go well" Megumi scoffs. "What were you thinking Okkotsu?"

"I wasn't thinking" He shakes his head, thinking back to that fateful day. For some reason, it all seemed like such a good idea back then. But now, looking back he thinks that maybe he is his own worst enemy. You seem to like him, the real him—without any strange text messages. You would probably be so hurt to know that he is actively lying to you every chance he gets.

"I'm gonna tell her"

"What? No you're not!"

"Tell who what?" Maki raises an eyebrow, Nobara and yourself in tow-all clutching bags of snacks.

"Yeah! Tell who what?" You chime in, unaware that it was Okkotsu he was speaking to in the first place. You plop yourself on the bed next to Toge, handing him his treats from the store. "Don't be lame! Tell us!"

Yuji and Megumi look at each other, clearly undecided on if they should tell you the truth or not. However, Yuji figures now might not be the most perfect time. You are happy, looking forward to a night of fun with your friends, he'd hate to ruin that. "Uhh we were just sayin' how pissed Nobara is gonna be when she finds out we're watching Human Earthworm again"

"Ugh NO!" The girl gripes. "I have seen that piece of crap enough already! Please don't make me sit through it again!"

"I'm not watching that dumb shit" Maki scoffs, grabbing the remote from the bedside table to shuffle through the movie titles. "I'll choose something"

"I like it" You pout, they look at you as if you are crazy. "It's campy and funny!...you wouldn't get it" You sigh.

"See! This girl knows what she's talking about!" Yuji says a bit too enthusiastically, giving you a friendly side hug. "You're a real one yn, don't ever forget that" He gives your shoulder a squeeze as you look up at him, offering up the bag of chips he asked for.

It is that moment that Itadori suddenly becomes aware of the harsh glare coming from Okkotsu, almost grimacing as his eyes remain stuck on where the two of you touch. He gets the message, letting go of you quickly—putting his hands up so that way the special grade could see them. Mouthing a 'sorry'.

Yuta was unaware that he failed to hide his distaste, silently scolding Yuji to put his hands down. This is exactly why he did not tell him, the boy does not have a smooth bone in his body. Okkotsu looks around as everyone makes themselves comfortable, you pat the spot on the bed beside you, beckoning him over. He gladly accepts, painfully aware of the way all of the guys are staring at him. This is going to be a disaster of a night, in this moment he does not trust any of them to keep his secret.

"Heyy" Your soft voice snaps him out of hit, you speak low enough that he is the only one who hears. "Missed you"

He chuckles nervously, immediately feeling his heartbeat speed up. "Yeah?" He asks earnestly, he cannot comprehend that fact that you think of him in situations he has no control over. He wishes to know what you say about him when he is not around.

"Mhm" You nod, giving your best smile. Somehow, you have grown more confident in your 'flirting' abilities. You no longer doubt every little thing you say, he makes you feel comfortable—like you can be yourself. Who knew that being yourself and turning him into a blushing mess would coincide? "Was thinking about you today"

He chokes on his spit. "Thinking about what?"

"Nothing too crazy" You shrug. "Just how nice you are"

He laughs softly. "Well uh thank you...m'glad you think that" Yuta is suddenly aware of how close the two of you are sitting, faces dangerously close to one another. He knows you are only leaning in to hear him better over the loud chatter of your friends, but another part wonders if you are doing it so he can stare at your plump lips (which he definitely was not doing). "And however much you missed me...I probably missed you more"

You giggle, breaking eye contact finally. Only to look over at Nobara who silently claps enthusiastically at the interaction. You are thankful his back is facing her. "What's there to miss?"

"A lot of stuff" He speaks honestly, you consume his mind most days, especially as of late. It is an annoying itch which cannot be scratched, a part of him thinks that maybe it is a bad thing to act like such a lovestruck fool. But then again he would not have the pleasure of knowing you, so he will take his chances. He is clearly lost in thought thinking of any example possible but all he can focus on is the sweet smell of your perfume. "Got such a pretty face....think about that a lot"

You giggle again, looking away and hiding your face—obviously not expecting an answer like that. You almost feel embarrassed.

That feeling soon doubles when Panda shushes the two of you as he turns the lights off. "You two! Quit flirting, the movie's about to start!"

If it had not been for the lights being out, you would have immediately caught notice of the boy's reddened cheeks at the sudden call out. Yet he does not stop that from making himself comfortable, soon lying down and even sharing a blanket with you. Your friends tease the two of you but you ignore the comments, an occasional 'shut up' when someone decides to bring it up again.

That doesn't stop him from holding your hand beneath the blanket either.

。。。・゜★

It is pretty late when the group decides to wrap things up, Maki and Nobara are unsurprisingly the first ones to go, seeing as they were not too keen on joining in the first place. They ask if you want to just head back with them so you do not have to walk by yourself. Okkotsu (of course) takes it upon himself to say that he will make sure you get back to your dorm safe. So you wait for him out in the hall as he argues with Toge about something you aren't too sure about. Honestly, you're too tired to care—a yawn escapes your lips as you rub your eyes lazily.

Yuuji and Megumi come walking out, both of them freeze when they spot you out there alone. Yuji already told himself he was not going to spill the beans. He wants to redeem himself seeing as there was definitely a reason Yuta chose to keep this information from him. Both Megumi and Nobara have told him how terrible he is at keeping secrets before so it's really no surprise to him. Megumi however, feels as if he is morally obligated to tell you the truth. His arms are crossed as he fights with that voice inside his head telling him to just say it.

The last thing he wants is to get involved in this mess, truly. But he cannot help but think that he would do it for any one of his friends, and you would likely do it for him too. No one deserves to be lied to. "Hey yn! Gotta tell you something" He calls out.

You look up from your phone that you were previously scrolling on to kill your boredom.

"L-later guys I'm going to bed" Yuji shuts his door behind him.

You find yourself standing there with Megumi, who stares at you blankly. You can never get a read on him, he's friendly enough. Just so painstakingly quiet that you feel like you have not connected much with him. "Yeah?"

The door suddenly opens, Itadori ushering the rest of his guests out before slamming it behind him hurriedly. Yuta notices the way the two of you are stood there, talking about something—hopefully not him. He picks up his pace a bit, purposefully bumping into Megumi's arm to catch his attention.

Fushiguro looks at him, eyes narrowing in pure judgement. He wants to call him pathetic for not having the balls to just be honest with you. Looking back at you, he sighs, finally accepting the decision to just let it be. Not get himself involved in something that is clearly not any of his business. "I was just wondering if you still have that book I lent you, need it for an assignment"

You gasp softly. "Ohh yeahhh! My bad, I totally forgot I had it. We can meet up tomorrow so I can give it back!"

"Don't worry about it" He dismisses. "But uh sounds good, see you tomorrow"

"Bye Fushiguro!" You wave the boy goodbye as he turns heel back to his dorm.

Yuta breathes a sigh of relief. It felt like he was holding it in all that time. Well, it still kind of feels that way. He walks you home, the two of you talk about nothing important; how school was, plans for the weekend, updates on your stalker. You're about halfway through when his fingers brush against yours, seemingly asking for something without using words. You're going on about some show Nobara watches that you just cannot get imto, he laughs as you imitate the ridiculous dialogue between the characters. His fingers find their place with yours, softly intertwining them together. Neither of you acknowledge it except for a shy smile from both sides.

And when you arrive at your dorm he gives a tender hug, mumbling in your ear about how he'd like to see you this weekend if that's okay with you. You give him a kiss on the cheek before slipping into your room.

Neither of you acknowledge that either.

°:. *₊ ° . ☆ °:. *₊ ° . ° .•

TAGLIST: @loveyislost @ravenbc @practicoi @chiefinvestigatoremma @gradmacoco @yuzurixx @isuckatmakingnames @pumpkintoad @digitaltrippers @sexylexy12 @sttaejoon-blog @galactacium @kekeanna266 @jfbwiwndinrkaidbrnskzhr @2dmenfr @love-me-satoru @kaidostwin @timascorner @artsjiwoo @underlinedkasis @lightbluefog

LMK IF YOU WOULD LIKE TO BE ADDED!

[kingkatsuki]

Thinking about a silly accidental confession with Kaji, because you just know he would have an entire photo album dedicated to you on his phone!!

It wasn’t unusual for you and Kaji to share phones, even though you weren’t dating. Swapping devices so you could create each other custom playlists for whatever new artist you were listening to that week, or searching through each others sound cloud to try and find that song you’d heard playing in a local music venue before the show.

The pair of you were so comfortable with each other that you knew each others passcodes, a fact that Hiragi took great delight in when he’d found out. Claiming that you could find out all of Kaji’s deep, dark secrets— causing his best friend to shoot him a glare across the table as he bit down on the hard peach candy he’d been sucking to stop himself from throwing back a retort.

But Hiragi was right— there was a huge secret that he’d been hiding from you, and one he was certain he’d take to his grave because there was no way you’d ever feel the same.

Kaji had left his phone on the coffee table as he’d got up to use the bathroom, giving you the perfect opportunity to pick it up and unlock it like you usually would. Intent on adding a new song you’d found by a local artist to his current playlist in the hopes of being able to drag him to one of their shows later this month. Typing in the digits across the screen as it unlocked and you were met with his photo gallery, not wanting to pry or come across an accidental lewd (no matter how curious you were) as your thumb moved to swipe out of the app but you paused when you noticed it.

Row upon row of photos of you. Candids mostly— of you smiling while sitting across the table in Pothos from him, ones where you were walking ahead of him beside Tsubaki as he lingered back, or your face pressed against the glass of an arcade machine as you tried to aim for a plushie inside. Along with selfies the pair of you had taken together, some with the ridiculous Snapchat filters Kaji had sworn he despised and barked at you to delete— bunny ears or fake blush filters on his cheeks, along with individual selfies of yourself that you had sent to him. And there was even screenshots of your conversations, or flirty and silly memes you’d sent each other.

And that’s the moment you looked up at the title of the album to see “My Everything <3” typed out. Feeling your heart begin to swell inside your chest as you were certain it would exert pressure against your rib cage and burst free, he really did feel the same.

“What are you doin’?” Kaji flopped back down beside you on the couch, his thigh nudging yours as he glanced over to his phone in your hands as he saw it, and for the first time since held known you he tried to snatch his phone from between your fingers roughly, “Give that back.”

“No.” You held it out of his reach as Kaji practically leaned his entire body over you to try and retrieve it, leaving your faces inches from each others as you met his steel-blue gaze, “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I didn’t think you felt the same,” His jaw locked as he tried to fight the awkward sensation that throbbed in his tummy, certain he’d ruined everything he already had with you because he had to go and catch feelings, “It’s stupid, I’m sorry I’ll delete it—”

“Why wouldn’t I?” You cut him off as you tilted your head to the side in confusion, and Kaji thought you looked so adorable it took every fiber of his being not to lean forward and smash his lips against yours.

“Why wouldn’t you what?” Kaji felt his throat start to tighten as his mouth felt dry, his Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed thickly to try and quell the feeling. Wishing he had a lollipop between his lips to stop himself from exploding as he tried to focus.

“Why wouldn’t I feel the same?” You gave him a soft smile as you dropped his phone onto the couch beside you in favour of cradling his jaw in your palm, feeling him lean into your warmth as your thumb stroked his cheek, “Because you’re my everything too.”

And that was all it took to have Kaji bridging the gap as he pressed his lips to yours in a gentle kiss.

[seospicybin]

BELONGING.

Bangchan x reader x Lee Know. (s,f)

Synopsis: Chan and Minho’s life together takes a surprising turn when an unexpected visitor arrives on the night of their anniversary. (14,2k words)

Author's note: Just a heartwarming read to sweeten your day ♡

Beep, beep, beep.

The keypad continuously beeping for a while after Chan entered the wrong passcode to unlock the door. His neighbor peeks through the door to check if someone is trying to break into the apartment next door but she sees Chan instead.

"Sorry for the noise," he apologizes with a courteous smile.

After knowing that Chan is simply struggling to get into his own apartment, his neighbor goes back inside and closes the door.

Chan tries another combination of numbers but it beeps again rather aggressively than before and it only aggravates him more. He groans out of frustration and immediately takes a deep breathe to calm himself down.

"Let's think, Chan!" He mutters to himself.

Just as he’s about to punch in another random sequence of numbers, the door swings open from the inside, and Minho stands there with his arms crossed, eyebrow raised.

“You know, if you actually came home at a decent hour, you'd remember the passcode,” Minho says, his tone somewhere between annoyance and playful teasing. He steps aside, holding the door open wide enough for Chan to step through.

Chan sighs, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly as he slips off his shoes. “Minho, seriously, I’m sorry. Work made me come home late again. But…changing the passcode?”

Minho shrugs nonchalantly, but Chan can see the faint trace of a smirk tugging at his lips. “Well, you always said you like a good challenge, right?”

Chan gives him a weary smile and lets his bag slide off his shoulder, dropping it by the entrance. “I didn’t realize our front door would be one of them.”

Later that night, they’re lying side by side in bed, the room dimly lit by the streetlight filtering through the blinds. Minho has his back to Chan, his posture stiff as he scrolls through his phone, doing his best to ignore the presence hovering beside him.

Chan shifts closer, trying to bridge the distance. He knows Minho is still upset about him coming home late and made him wait.

“Minho,” he whispers, nudging him gently but there’s no response, only the silent, stubborn rise and fall of Minho’s shoulders.

So, Chan decides to up his game. He slides an arm around Minho’s waist, pressing a gentle kiss to the back of his neck. “I’m really sorry,” he murmurs, voice low and warm against Minho’s skin. “You know I’d come home sooner if I could.”

Minho sighs but doesn’t pull away, though his fingers still tap insistently on his phone screen. Taking this as a tiny victory, Chan smiles and leans in closer, kissing his way from Minho’s shoulder up to his jaw.

“I missed you,” Chan says softly, his lips grazing Minho’s cheek. “Every time I looked at the clock, I thought about you waiting here.”

Minho’s fingers finally still, though he tries to keep his composure. “You’re so dramatic,” he mutters, but there’s a hint of a smile in his voice.

Undeterred, Chan presses a series of playful, lingering kisses along Minho’s cheek, all the way to his temple.

“Is it working?” he whispers. “Are you caving?”

“Not even close,” Minho replies, but he rolls over to face Chan, his expression softened, eyes bright with the faintest glimmer of affection he’s trying to hide.

Chan’s grin widens. “Then I’ll keep trying,” he says, leaning down to plant a kiss on Minho’s forehead.

“And trying… and trying…” Each word is punctuated by a gentle kiss, until Minho finally breaks, laughter spilling from his lips as he pushes Chan’s face away.

“Fine! I get it, you’re forgiven!” Minho says, half-laughing, half-sighing, letting Chan’s arm wrapped around him.

Chan chuckles softly, pulling him in for a tight hug that Minho half-heartedly resists for a moment before melting into. They settle into each other, Minho finally letting himself relax against Chan’s warmth.

As their breathing syncs, Chan presses one last, tender kiss on Minho’s neck, a silent promise that he’ll be there, even on the late nights, and for a second, Chan thinks that maybe this is what makes every exhausting day worthwhile.

-

The bathroom is filled with the sound of running water as Chan stands in front of the mirror, toothbrush in hand, still half-asleep as he lazily brushes his teeth even though he's just showered. A towel hanging low around his hips, his curly hair is damp, and beads of water dotted the skin on his back yet a sleepy gaze is fixed on his reflection, half-lidded and unfocused.

Minho leans against the bathroom doorway, arms crossed, watching him with a small smirk.

“Hey, sleepyhead,” he says, voice teasing. “Just a reminder, there's that dinner tonight and if you’re late, I swear, I’m serving you burnt beef Wellington.”

Chan freezes mid-brush, then meets Minho’s eyes in the mirror, a lazy smile spreading across his face. He spits out the toothpaste, rinsing his mouth as he chuckles.

“You’d actually burn dinner just to teach me a lesson?”

Minho raises an eyebrow, challenging him. “Try me.”

Stepping over to where Minho stands, Chan wraps an arm around his waist and pulls him close, pressing a quick kiss to his lips.

“Not this time,” he says, his voice soft but full of warmth. “I’ll be home early. Promise.”

Minho’s eyes soften, a faint blush creeping into his cheeks as he tries to keep up the tough act.

“Good. You’d better not leave me waiting,” he murmurs, trying to sound stern but failing as his gaze drifts to Chan’s bare chest.

Chan laughs, giving Minho a light squeeze. “Can’t wait to see what you’ve planned.”

As Chan finishes brushing his teeth and about to step out of the bathroom, he catches Minho’s eyes lingering on him, trying—and failing—to look completely unimpressed.

“Like what you see?” he teases, leaning down just enough to bring their faces close, his voice dropping to a low murmur. “Maybe I should come home a little late… keep you waiting a bit longer, yeah?”

Minho crosses his arms, rolling his eyes as if entirely unfazed, though there’s a slight twitch at the corner of his mouth.

“Try it,” he says, tilting his chin defiantly. “See what you end up eating tonight.”

Chan chuckles, pretending to look hurt as he tries again. “Not even a little distracted?” he asks, his hand moving to Minho’s waist, pulling him in closer. “Guess I’ll have to try harder.”

But Minho’s having none of it. He reaches up and gently pushes Chan’s face back with one hand, his tone cool and unwavering.

“You’re not charming your way out of this one,” he says firmly, though there’s a flicker of amusement in his eyes. “You’re either on time tonight, or it’s burnt Wellington and instant noodles.”

Laughing, Chan lets his hands drop, backing off as he raises them in mock surrender. “Alright, alright,” he grins.

“Point taken. I’ll be on time.” He winks as he heads back to the bedroom to get dressed, throwing a playful look over his shoulder. “But you’ll have to admit I tried my best.”

Minho just rolls his eyes again, but he’s smiling this time, muttering under his breath, “You’re impossible.”

But as he watches Chan disappear down the hall, there’s a warmth lingering in his chest, the anticipation of their night together filling him with a quiet happiness.

-

Minho smooths down his shirt one last time, casting a quick glance at the clock. Just as the second hand ticks to the hour, there’s a knock on the door. He smiles to himself—right on time. Guess he really did take me seriously, he thinks.

He opens the door to find Chan standing there, a bouquet of flowers in his hand and a grin on his face.

Minho raises an eyebrow, crossing his arms. “Flowers? Really?”

Chan laughs, holding them out at him. “Thought I’d do something classic. Happy anniversary!” he says, his tone softening.

Feigning disinterest, Minho takes the flowers, sniffing them briefly. “Hmm, not bad,” he says, pretending to inspect them critically. “You almost look like you know what you’re doing.”

Chan just shakes his head, smirking as he slips inside, brushing a quick kiss over Minho’s cheek. “Glad I could impress you… even just a little.”

As they settle into their anniversary dinner, Chan savors the first bite and lets out an exaggerated sigh.

“Alright, you’ve officially outdone yourself,” he says, beaming at Minho. “You should make beef Wellington every night.”

Minho rolls his eyes, but there’s a pleased flush to his cheeks. “Don’t get used to it,” he replies, lifting his glass with a faint smile. “Next time, it might actually be burnt.”

Chan chuckles, reaching over to squeeze Minho’s hand and decides to tease him more by saying cheesy things, he knows how much Minho hates it whenever he does that.

“I don’t care what it is, as long as I’m eating it with you.”

They eat and talk, laughter filling the cozy space as they share memories and jokes, their glances softening as the evening draws on. Finally, when most of the food is gone, Chan leans in across the table, his fingers brushing Minho’s as he says.

“Compliments to the chef are not enough so...” he lets his words trail off as he pulls Minho in for a lingering kiss.

As usual, Minho doesn't easily caves in, he makes Chan works harder to make him return the kiss and when he finally does, Chan triumphantly smiles against his lips.

After a while, Chan takes a second to breath and just as their lips about to meet again, a sudden ring of the doorbell interrupts the quiet warmth.

Minho groans, pulling back reluctantly and leans on his seat. “If that’s another surprise from you, I swear I’ll hate it,” he mutters.

Chan laughs, reluctantly letting Minho’s hand go as he gets up from his chair and heads toward the door.

“It’s not,” he calls over his shoulder, “unless it’s flowers that somehow reappear.”

Chan opens the door and freezes, his eyes widening slightly as he takes in the figure standing in the hallway. It’s you, your gaze lowered, fingers fidgeting nervously. You lift your eyes to meet his, offering a small, shy smile.

“Hi, Chan,” you say, your voice soft but steady. “I'm sorry I... I didn’t know who else to turn to.”

For a second, neither of you speaks, the silence filling the space between you. Finally, Chan steps aside, his surprise shifting into something gentler.

“Come on in,” he says, voice warm despite his initial shock.

As you step inside, you look over your shoulder and give a nod. A little girl emerges from behind you, clutching a small stuffed animal and looking up at Chan with wide, curious eyes. You rest a gentle hand on her shoulder, steadying yourself. “This is my daughter, Lucy.”

Chan’s eyes widen, glancing between you and the little girl by your side, his heart pounding as he tries to make sense of the unexpected reunion.

-

THREE YEARS AGO

Chan had been looking forward to this moment the entire week. After days away on a work trip, all he could think about was coming home, seeing your face light up when he walked through the door, wrapping his arms around you.

But when he finally stepped inside, there was no excited smile, no warmth rushing into his arms. You greeted him with a polite smile, a quiet “Welcome back,” before turning back to whatever you were doing, the energy between you strange and muted.

He blinked, pushing down the faint pang of disappointment, telling himself you were probably just tired. “Hey,” he murmured, walking over to you, trying to shake off the feeling. “Missed you.”

You glanced up at him, your expression softening for a moment, but something in your eyes seemed… distant, like you were holding something back.

“Missed you too,” you replied, but the words felt hollow, like they were coming from a place far away.

Chan hesitated, then shook it off with a chuckle, pulling you into his arms despite the subtle tension he felt between you. “I swear, if I had to be away from one more day, I was ready to quit,” he joked, trying to lighten the mood.

You managed a small smile, letting him hold you, but your arms didn’t wrap around him the way they usually did, your hold tentative, almost reluctant.

He couldn’t help himself from asking, he looked at you with a hint of worry in his eyes. “Is everything okay?” he asked gently. “You seem… different.”

You got a bit startled by the question, and for a moment, there was something in your eyes—fear, uncertainty—but you quickly looked away, forcing a smile.

“I’m fine. Just a little tired,” you replied, voice calm but distant.

“Now, what do you say we make up for lost time?” He asked as he tilted your head, forcing you to meet his gaze.

It somehow worked to get you to smile and soften around him, you melted into his arms as he held you close and then slowly, he pulled you for a long, lingering kiss that cures his longing for you.

Without letting go of the kiss, Chan hoisted you up and you wrapped your legs around his waist as he carried you to bed.

He gently lay you down on the bed and then stood at the foot of the bed just looking at you with admiration pooling in his eyes.

He crawled onto the bed and hovered above you, his face only inches away from yours as he cupped your cheek and placed a soft kiss on your lips.

"I missed you so much I think I'm going insane," he murmurs before crashing his lips against yours again.

He sensed hesitancy in the way you returning his kiss but he convinced himself that maybe you were tired, maybe his long absence put a little strain on this relationship and he wanted to fix it in any way he could.

"Do you know?" He buried his head in your neck, planting fluttering kisses that he knew would help to relax you. He knew it works from the way you softly giggled. "There’s not a night where I didn’t think of kissing you."

Chan began making a trail of kisses down your clothed body and when his mouth reached your thighs, he purposely slipped his head under the hem of your dress. You couldn't see what he was doing under but you gasped when his hot mouth made a contact with your clothed sex.

The flimsy fabric of your underwear didn't stop him from opening his mouth wider to take more of you and drenching it with a mix of his saliva and your essence.

After a while though, he craved more than feeling you through your underwear, he roughly pulled your underwear down and pushed the hem of your dress upward until it hunched around your waist.

Chan put his hands under you and slightly lifted your hips off the bed to provide him with the right angle to savor your wet cunt with his mouth. You knew what his mouth is capable of doing, you knew he would tirelessly please you with his plush lips and slick tongue and at the same time, enjoying it cause you knew he gets pleasure from doing it.

He licked, he sucked, he buried half of his face in your wetness and you continously moaned, but it wasn’t enough for him.

Soon, his fingers joined in, two digits pumping in and out of you while he gently sucked on your clit, syncing the two stimulations to give you the utmost of pleasure.

"Oh, God!" You moaned as you arched your back asking for more.

He detached his mouth but kept the motion of his fingers going, his lips were glistening wet as he said, "Yes, baby, moan for me."

Your hand flew to his hair and tugged at it as more moans spilling out of your parted mouth. "Chan... oh..."

Chan triumphantly smiled for succeeding on getting you out of whatever made you seem different and bringing you back to him. He landed a soft kiss on your clit and then another one on the little patch of hair.

"That’s it," he murmured as he saw the way you were writhing in pleasure, "That’s my girl."

There was only one left thing to do and that was to make sure you reach your high, Chan kept the stimulations going and added a little speed to it, bringing you toward your climax until you—

"Oh, I'm coming..." you cried as you clamped his hand between your legs.

Chan didn't pull away just yet, he kept his hand there and gave your clit gentle circles to help you slowly coming down your high. He lowered his mouth on you and kissed your open mouth, letting your satisfed moans spilled into his mouth.

Breaking the kiss, Chan sat up on the bed and took off his dark t-shirt, exposing his sculpted abs that glows under the silver moonlight. He slyly smiled at you, taking your hand in his and brought it close to his mouth to kiss it. He put your hand on his neck next, then slowly, he dragged it down his front. He whimpered as your fingertips trailing down his pale skin and not stopping until your hand meets the waistband of his jeans.

"And now, my question is..." He mutterd as he keeps your hand on his lower abdomen, "Do you think about me too?"

His other hand worked open his jeans, the sound of the zipper opening cutting through the silence in the room. He pulled his jeans along with boxer down just enough to let his erection sprang free.

"Did you also think of me?" He asked as he wrapped your hand around his cock, swollen and hot to the touch.

He made your hand stroking it along with him and his eyes were fluttering as he enjoyed feeling your hand pumping his cock.

"Or this cock?" He asked again as he made your other hand joined in on pumping his cock. He then let go of his hands and letting you touched his cock the way you pleased and propped them against the mattress next to your head.

He leaned in close enough and placed a brief kiss that barely lasted a second. "Did you think of me at all?"

You repeatedly nodded in answer. "Yeah."

"Yeah? Think of me what?"

"Being inside me," your voice low it was almost like a whisper.

He caressed your cheek and placed another brief kiss on your lips. "Is that what you want right now?"

"Yes," you nodded again.

His head went to the side of your head and planted a kiss on the sensitive skin behind your ear. "All you have to do is say it," he whispered to you.

You waited until he hovered above you again and looked him in the eyes as you said. "I want you inside me."

Chan fondly smiled as he held you by the way, "I'll give it to you, baby."

In the moment that followed, he fulfilled your wish, pushing his cock deep inside you and began thrusting at a steady pace. In each thrust, he lost a layer of his senses and gave himself in to desire. Raw groans and desperate calls for your name endlessly coming out of his mouth.

At one point, you pulled your legs and in this angle, you provided him with more depth. Your hands lingered on each side of his waist and at times, glanced down to see his cock slipped in and out of you.

"Oh, baby..." you moaned as you clung to his shoulders and pulled him close to kiss him. "You feel so good inside me."

He hastily kissed you and through his gritted teeth, he muttered, "You feel good around me too."

With that, Chan slowed down but added intensity to his thrust, making you feel every drag of his cock against your walls. He didn't feel pressure to hold back as you cum already but he chose to keep going, wanting to stretch this moment as long as possible.

He kissed you and then pressed his forehead against yours, his hands groped around the sheets until he found yours and clasped them together.

"Can I cum inside you, baby?" He sweetly asked with a soft kiss on your jaw. "Want to fill you with my love."

"Yes," you whined as you pulled him closer and wrapped your legs around him tighter.

Chan buried his head in your neck, kissing and sucking on the skin there as the pleasure got too overwhelming too him. He dragged his mouth lower and took your breast into his mouth, roughly biting at it as he sped up, thrusting into you relentlessly until he came to his release.

Instead of pulling away, he pushed himself deep into you as he released his seed, along with a deep kiss that takes all of your breath away.

When he settled next to you on the bed, he took your hand and didn't let go, he kissed your knuckle, your palm, your inner wrist, he shoved your index and middle fingers into his mouth and gently sucked on them before pulled them away. He rested your hand close to his chest then turned his head to look at you. He saw the same fondness in your eyes but in that moment, he saw something else, something that looked almost like sadness.

"I love you," he said because he didn't know what else to do but convinced you that he's there for you, both physically and emotionally. He cupped your face and he saw as you leaned to it, finding the comfort you seek in the warmth of his palm.

"I love you too," you said back with a faint smile and in a split moment, everything felt alright again.

However, as the night went on, he couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong. Usually, you’d be telling him everything he missed, filling the air with stories and laughter. He wanted to believe you and that you were just tired, to shrug it off as nothing, but that nagging feeling stayed with him, growing stronger with each passing day, until the night you broke his heart and walked away without another word.

A week after that night, Chan’s world felt like it was tilting, spinning in slow, unbearable circles as he looked at you, trying to process the words you’d just spoken.

“You want to… break up?” he managed, his voice rough with disbelief.

You stood across from him, your expression a carefully held mask. “I think it’s best for both of us,” you said softly, but there was a tremor to your voice that betrayed you.

He shook his head, stepping forward, hands reaching for yours, desperately searching your face for something—anything—that would make this make sense.

“But…why?” he stammered, his voice breaking slightly. “Is it because I’ve been so busy? Because of work? I know I haven’t been around enough, but I’ll do better, I swear. I’ll make more time for us.”

You gently pulled your hands from his grasp, looking down, avoiding his eyes. “It’s not that, Chan. I… I just think it’s better this way.” Your voice was firm, but he could see the conflict in your expression, a hint of pain flickering across your features before you forced it away.

“Better?” he echoed, voice barely above a whisper. “How could breaking up be better?”

He felt the familiar ache in his chest deepen, like a wound reopening, bleeding anew. “We’re good together,” he insisted, almost pleading. “I thought… I thought you felt that, too.”

You swallowed, looking away, pressing your lips together as if to keep something from spilling out. “Please, Chan. Don’t make this harder.”

Chan took a shaky breath, still trying to keep his composure. “Please, just tell me what I did wrong. Tell me what to fix, and I’ll fix it. I’ll do anything.”

Your shoulders stiffened, and for a fleeting second, he thought he saw something—a glint of sorrow, maybe even regret—but it was gone as quickly as it had come.

“It’s nothing you did, Chan,” you said finally, your voice a strained whisper. “But… this is something I need to do.”

With that, you turned away, your steps steady as you walked out the door, leaving him frozen in place, watching you leave, unable to find the words to bring you back.

In the months that followed, Chan tried to move on, throwing himself deeper into work, but everywhere he went, there were memories of you, reminders of a life he had thought would be forever.

It took him a long time, a painful journey through grief and self-doubt, before he could let himself heal, before he could feel whole again. It wasn’t until he met Minho—sharp, sarcastic, and somehow healing—that he began to find peace with what had happened.

-

Now, as Chan stands in the doorway, staring at you and the little girl by your side, the past seems to come rushing back, all the hurt, confusion, and lingering questions he’s tried so hard to leave behind.

As you step inside his home, you take a quick, nervous breath, your gaze shifting to your daughter, who’s still holding onto your hand, eyes wide as she takes in her new surroundings.

You look down at her, giving her a soft smile. “Lucy, this is Chan. Say hello.”

Lucy peers up at him, clutching her stuffed animal tightly. “Hi,” she says shyly, her voice barely a whisper.

Chan crouches down to her level, a warm, welcoming smile on his face. “Hey, Lucy. I’m Chan,” he says gently, offering her a small wave. “I’m a friend of your mom’s.”

She nods, a hint of curiosity lighting up her eyes as she glances up at you for reassurance.

Minho steps into the room, casting a curious look between you, Chan, and Lucy, but he only offers a polite nod and a soft “Hi” to Lucy, who gives him a timid smile in return.

You take a deep breath, then gently squeeze Lucy’s hand. “Lucy, could you stay here for a bit? Mommy just need to talk to Chan, okay?”

“I’ll show you around,” Minho kindly offers, his tone calm and welcoming.

Lucy looks from you to Minho, who nods with a warm, reassuring smile, and after one last glance at you, she lets go of your hand and follows Minho into the living room.

Once Lucy is out of earshot, you follow Chan into a nearby room, nerves tightening your stomach as he closes the door behind you. He turns to face you, his expression soft but concerned, waiting for you to speak.

“Chan,” you begin, voice barely above a whisper. You look down, struggling to find the right words.

“I… I’m in a bad situation right now. I got evicted and I don’t have anywhere else to go. I didn’t want to bother you, but…” You trail off, unable to finish the thought, the weight of your circumstances pressing down on you.

Chan’s face softens, a look of quiet understanding in his eyes as he steps closer. “Hey, it’s okay,” he says gently, reaching out to place a comforting hand on your shoulder. “You don’t have to explain everything right now. You’re here now, and that’s all that matters.”

You look up, surprise flickering in your eyes. “Are you sure?” you ask, still hesitant. “I don’t want to be a burden. I just… I need a few days to figure things out.”

Chan shakes his head, his voice warm and reassuring. “You’re not a burden. You can stay as long as you need. Don’t worry about anything else. Just focus on what you need to do.”

The kindness in his words catches you off guard, a wave of relief washing over you. After everything that’s happened, the simple act of having a place to stay, a place where you’re welcome, feels like a gift.

You fight back your years and manage a faint smile, nodding. “Thank you, Chan. Really.”

Chan smiles back, his hand giving your shoulder a gentle squeeze. “Anytime. Just know… you don’t have to go through this alone.”

The past month hasn't been kind to you and hearing those words from Chan is really comforting. There's a lump caught in your throat and it burns the more you hold yourself back from crying. You drop your head and begin crying, feeling like you can finally breathe after what felt like forever.

Attentively, Chan opens his arms and gently pulls you, he's holding you close, his hands land soothing rubs on your back.

"It’s okay, it's okay..." he repeatedly says, "You're here now."

-

Minho watches Lucy from his spot on the couch, noticing the way her eyes droop as she leans into the cushions. She’s small and quiet, with an unmistakable look of fatigue that tugs at something unexpectedly soft within him.

He glances toward the closed door where you and Chan are talking, catching snatches of the conversation as he sits with Lucy in the quiet of the living room. Words like “nowhere else to go” and “thank you” float through, hinting at the weight of the situation.

Minho’s fingers tap against his knee, mind racing as he pieces together fragments, but he quickly turns his attention back to Lucy as she shifts, curling up on the couch. Her little head nods, struggling to stay upright.

Seeing her like that, Minho gets up and slowly pushes the door open. He hears your cries and as the door swing further in ward, he catches you and Chan sharing an embrace.

Minho clears his throat to make his presence known and you quickly break away from Chan's hold, your back facing him.

“She’s looking pretty tired,” he keeps his voice low, gesturing to the couch and then glancing from Chan to you.

Chan looks at you and gives you a reassuring smile, then nods to Minho. “Yeah, I think we should get you and Lucy settled.”

Chan guides you and Lucy down the hall, showing you to a cozy guest room and making sure you have everything you need. You manage a grateful smile as you settle Lucy into bed, smoothing a blanket over her. With a final, gentle look, Chan closes the door, allowing you both some rest.

Later that night, as Minho and Chan lie side by side in the darkness, Chan wraps an arm around Minho’s waist, pulling him close. Minho can feel the tension in Chan’s hold, the way he hesitates before speaking.

“I’m sorry,” Chan whispers, his voice rough with sincerity. “I know this isn’t how I wanted our anniversary to go.”

Minho rests his hand over Chan’s, giving it a soft squeeze. “It’s okay,” he murmurs, trying to sound casual. “Plans change, right?”

Chan lets out a low sigh of relief, resting his head against Minho’s shoulder. “Are you… are you okay with them staying here?”

Minho hesitates, weighing his words. He can feel the questions bubbling up inside him, each one itching to be asked, but he swallows them down, forcing a calm smile instead.

“It’s fine, Chan,” he says, keeping his tone light. “It’s just a few days, right? I don’t mind.”

But as he lies there, his mind races with silent questions. Who is this little girl to Chan? Why did you show up now, after all this time? And what else might this mean for them?

He doesn’t voice any of it, though, just pulls Chan closer, letting him feel his support without pressing him for answers.

-

Minho stirs awake to the sound of soft clinking coming from the kitchen. He stretches, rubbing his eyes, and glances over to see Chan still fast asleep. Carefully slipping out of bed, he heads down the hallway, only to pause at the sight before him.

There you are, bustling around the kitchen, and at the dining table, Lucy sits munching on her breakfast, her legs swinging as she hums quietly to herself.

Minho can’t help but feel a pang of surprise—and unease. Usually, breakfast is his thing, the quiet, calming start to his morning. And now, someone else is filling that space.

You glance up from the stove and notice him, offering a warm smile. “Good morning! I made breakfast—I hope it’s okay.”

Minho nods politely, though he can’t shake the hint of awkwardness. “Morning,” he murmurs, glancing at the table as you set down a plate of food. “Thanks for, uh… taking care of it.”

You nod, busying yourself with the final touches. “I have to leave early for work, but Lucy’s all set.” You look over at Lucy, smiling softly as you fuss over her hair, straightening her shirt.

Turning back to Minho, you give him an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry for asking this, but could you keep an eye on her today? I really appreciate it.”

Before Minho can respond, you’re already grabbing your bag and heading toward the door. You bend down, planting a quick kiss on Lucy’s cheek. “Bye, sweetheart. Be good, okay?

Lucy looks up at you, nodding earnestly. “Yes, Mommy.”

“Mommy will be back soon.” You add with another kiss on the top of her head and with a final wave, you slip out, leaving Minho alone with Lucy.

Minho sighs, looking over at Lucy, who’s now staring at him with wide, curious eyes. He tries to shake off the discomfort, making his way around the kitchen to tidy up after breakfast, but every time he turns, he notices Lucy quietly trailing behind him, her tiny footsteps padding across the floor.

When he goes to do the laundry, she follows him, watching as he loads clothes into the machine, fascinated by every button he presses. When he heads out to water the plants on the balcony, she’s there too, gazing up at him with her big, unblinking eyes.

Minho feels his patience wearing thin. It’s not that he dislikes kids, but he can’t shake the feeling that his routine, his space, has been thrown off balance. Finally, he decides he’s had enough. He heads back to the bedroom and shakes Chan’s shoulder lightly.

“Hey,” he murmurs, casting a glance at the door, where Lucy is still peeking in. “Time to wake up. You have… company.”

Chan opens his eyes slowly, blinking at Minho in confusion before he sits up, glancing at Lucy and then back at Minho, a small smile tugging at his lips.

“She can't stop following me,” Minho whispers at him.

Chan rubs the sleep off his eyes and mumbles, "She probably just wants to play with you."

Minho sighs, crossing his arms, trying to mask the faint flush of embarrassment. “She’s your guest. Maybe it’s time you take over the babysitting shift.”

Chan chuckles, reaching out to give Minho’s hand a reassuring squeeze. “Alright, alright. I’ll take care of her.” He swings his legs over the side of the bed, giving Minho a playful grin. “Besides, she seems to like you.”

Minho rolls his eyes, the faintest smile breaking through. “Yeah, well… she’s all yours now.”

-

As Chan watches Minho retreat to the kitchen with a faintly flustered expression, he can’t help but chuckle to himself. It’s rare to see Minho even slightly unsettled, but here he is, almost looking threatened by the presence of a two-year-old.

“She’s just a kid, Minho,” Chan murmurs under his breath, shaking his head with a soft smile.

Recalling the message you left for him, Chan retrieves the bag of Lucy’s toys from where you’d placed it by the door. He brings it to the living room and kneels down on the carpeted floor, setting out a colorful array of blocks, stuffed animals, and dolls. Lucy’s face lights up instantly, her small hands reaching eagerly for the toys as she plops down beside him.

“Is it your favorite toy?” Chan gently asks as he lays out all of her toys in front of her.

“Yup!” Lucy adorably nods.

They fall into an easy rhythm, building towers of blocks, arranging tiny stuffed animals in a pretend tea party. Chan’s heart warms watching her giggle with delight each time a tower of blocks comes crashing down.

It’s during one of these rounds of playful destruction that Chan catches Minho’s figure hovering in the doorway, his arms crossed as he watches them with an unreadable expression. Minho’s gaze flickers between Chan and Lucy, his brow furrowing just slightly.

A mischievous thought crosses Chan’s mind as he gets up and strides over to Minho, grinning. “Don’t tell me you're jealous because she’s cuter than you,” he teases, his tone light and playful.

Minho scoffs, rolling his eyes. “Please. I’m not worried about some toddler stealing my spotlight,” he replies coolly, but Chan can see the faint blush creeping up his cheeks, the way his shoulders tense ever so slightly.

Chan steps closer, his voice softening as he reaches up to playfully scratches Minho’s ear. “Hey,” he murmurs, holding Minho’s gaze, “nothing’s changed, alright? Just because she’s here doesn’t mean there’s any less of me for you.”

With that, he leans in, pressing a gentle, lingering kiss to Minho’s lips. Minho’s posture softens, his hands sliding around Chan’s waist as he lets out a quiet sigh, leaning into the kiss.

When they pull apart, Minho gives him a small, begrudging smile. “Fine,” he mutters, attempting to sound unaffected. “But don’t expect me to join any tea parties anytime soon.”

Chan laughs, squeezing Minho’s hand. “Noted,” he says, casting a glance back at Lucy, who’s now absorbed in her toys, babbling happily to herself. With a playful nudge, Chan heads back to the carpet, leaving Minho watching with a half-smile as he sits down to continue playing with Lucy.

-

"Dinner's ready!" Minho announces from the kitchen but no one is answering him.

He turns his head toward the living room and sees that Chan and Lucy are still busy playing, her giggles echoing in the room for any of them to hear Minho’s call for dinner.

Minho sighs and raises his voice louder. "Dinner's ready!"

Chan abruptly stops lifting Lucy in the air and puts her down, offering his hand to walk hand in hand to the kitchen. He takes her to wash her hands first before settling her on her dining table.

As they sit down for dinner, Minho carefully plates the food, setting each dish on the table with his usual precision. He watches as Chan gives Lucy a warm smile, helping her settle in her seat and making sure she’s comfortable.

Throughout the meal, Minho notices Chan’s gentle attention on Lucy—wiping the sauce from her cheek, cutting her food into bite-sized pieces, and patiently coaxing her to eat each bite.

At one point, Chan looks up and catches Minho’s bitter expression. “Hm…” he sniffs the air dramatically, eyes twinkling with mischief. “Is it just me, or does something smell a little… burnt in here?”

Minho narrows his eyes, but the corners of his mouth twitch in a faint smile. “Please, I’m not jealous,” he scoffs, trying to sound indifferent as he continues eating.

Chan laughs, giving Minho an affectionate nudge. “Whatever you say.”

After dinner, they all move to the living room, where Chan and Lucy settle in front of the TV to watch cartoons. Minho sits at the far end of the sofa, arms crossed, but his gaze keeps drifting toward the two of them cuddled up together.

Noticing Minho’s pout, Chan reaches out, giving him a playful tug. “Come here, Mr. Not Jealous,” he teases, wrapping an arm around him. “There’s room for all three of us.”

Minho sighs, pretending to resist, but eventually leans in, allowing Chan to pull him close. “Fine,” he mumbles, as Chan presses a soft kiss to his temple.

As they sit together, Chan tightens his hold, smiling at Minho. “See? Perfect little family moment,” he whispers, his tone both teasing and gentle.

Minho rolls his eyes but allows himself to relax, a reluctant smile finally breaking through as he nestles into Chan’s embrace, soothed by the warmth they share.

Menacingly, he puts away Lucy’s hand resting on Chan’s chest and replaces it with his while Chan can only chuckles witnessing it.

A moment later, there are beeping sounds coming from the front door and Chan rolls his eyes toward Minho in suspicion.

"You changed the passcode again, did you?" Chan asks with his eyes squinted.

With a smirk on his face, Minho nonchalantly shrugs and it's enough to tell Chan the answer.

-

"0-1-0-9."

You fumble with the numbers Chan had texted you, pressing them carefully into the keypad, but each time, the door refuses to unlock. After a few more tries, you’re about to give up when the door finally swings open, revealing a sheepish-looking Chan.

“Sorry about that,” he says, scratching the back of his neck.

“Minho changed the passcode and forgot to tell me.” He gives you a small, apologetic smile.

You shrug, offering a quick nod before stepping inside. “It’s fine,” you reply, smiling slightly as Lucy comes running toward you, arms outstretched.

“Mommy!” she squeals, hugging your legs. You scoop her up, brushing her hair back from her face as you carry her toward her room.

“And why are you still up?” You ask her.

Lucy sheepishly gestures toward the living room where the TV plays her favorite cartoons. “Watching cartoons,” she mumbles.

“It's past your bedtime, young lady,” you tell her with a playful glare. Pausing near Chan and Minho, you give her a gentle nudge. “Say goodnight, Lucy.”

She waves her tiny hand sleepily, mumbling, “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, cutie Lucy,” Chan says back and gives her a soft pat on the head before letting you take her away.

A few minutes later, you’re settling Lucy under her blanket, humming a song while caressing her head to send her into sleep.

“Picture yourself in a boat on a river / With tangerine trees and marmalade skies / Somebody calls you, you answer quite slowly / A girl with kaleidoscope eyes.”

Once she's fast asleep, you give her a soft kiss on the forehead, straightening as you spot Chan standing in the doorway, watching quietly with an unreadable expression.

“So... Lucy in the sky with diamonds, huh?” he says softly as he finally catches on why you named your daughter Lucy.

“You're finally catching up,” You playfully remark, taking the dirty clothes with you as you come out of the room and you head straight toward the laundry room. As you start sorting clothes, he leans against the doorframe, his tone casual yet curious.

“So… what do you think about all of this?” he asks, gesturing vaguely around, though his gaze lingers on you.

“About you dating... Minho?” you reply, glancing at him with a faint smile.

Chan seems to be taken aback by how accurate your first guess is. "Well... yeah," he sheepishly replies.

“It was a surprise, but then I remember our argument on who is the best Ryan,” you talk as you load your laundry into the washing machine. "And you passionately defended that Ryan Reynolds is hotter than Ryan Gosling."

"And I still stand by it," Chan chuckles, looking momentarily relieved, but his curiosity isn’t quite satisfied. “And… what do you think about Minho? I know it’s been… an adjustment, having you and Lucy here.”

You pause, folding one of Lucy’s shirts as you consider your words. “I haven’t really had a chance to talk to him. But the fact that he doesn’t mind us staying here says a lot. It means he’s a good person.”

Chan nods, seeming to take that in, a small smile touching his lips. “Yeah, he really is,” he murmurs, almost to himself. There’s a warmth in his voice that’s unmistakable, and you can’t help but feel a sense of relief, sensing that your presence here, however temporary, isn’t as disruptive as you’d feared.

With a gentle smile, you add, “I’m happy for you, Chan. You look… happy. It’s nice to see.”

He looks up, meeting your gaze with a quiet gratitude that speaks volumes. “Thanks,” he says softly.

For a moment, the two of you stand there in a comfortable silence, each lost in your own thoughts, both grateful to find this unexpected peace amidst everything.

As you both lean against the dryer, you slowly turn to face him and look him in the eyes as you say, "I know I'm three years late to this but Chan... I'm sorry."

His hand reaches for your arm and gently squeezes it. "There’s nothing to be sorry about," he assures you with a warm smile.

"We both know I wasn't a good girlfriend and the way I ended things..." you take a second to steady your voice. "I'm fully aware how brazen faced I am for coming here and asking for your help."

Chan’s gaze softens as he takes in your words, his hand lingering on your arm as if to anchor you. “You’re not. You’re just... human,” he replies gently. “I won’t pretend it didn’t hurt, but you did what you felt you needed to do. I get that.”

A faint smile touches your lips, relief mingling with lingering guilt. “Still, you’re here, helping me now after everything. I don’t know if I deserve it.”

“Hey,” he interrupts softly, his tone steady. “Don’t think like that. Everyone deserves help when they need it.”

For a moment, silence falls again between you, but this time, it’s heavier with the weight of unspoken questions. Then Chan finally speaks, his voice filled with a quiet sincerity. “Why didn’t you tell me? You could have told me and you wouldn't have gone through this alone.”

Your gaze drops, a little of the old hurt resurfacing and just like that, you break into tears. You cry into your hands, feeling embarrassed about everything.

Chan pulls you close, holding you close and letting you rest your head on his shoulder. He rubs his hand up and down your arm as he mutters. “You will always have me. I'm here.”

You nod, a warmth settling in your chest. It’s not easy letting go of the past, but standing here with Chan, it feels like maybe there’s a new beginning, after all.

-

Minho stretches, eyes blinking open to a peaceful morning. For a fleeting moment, everything feels blissfully normal—no guests, no interruptions, just him and Chan in their cozy space. He savors the silence, letting his eyes close again as he feels the warmth of the bed cocooning him. But then he hears Chan rustling beside him, yawning as he stretches.

“Morning,” Chan murmurs, planting a soft kiss on Minho’s cheek before slipping out of bed.

Minho hums in response, eyes still half-shut, enjoying the lingering quiet.

“Oh,” Chan says, his voice pulling Minho fully awake. “Just a heads up—she left early for a two-day work trip. Said she’d be back soon.”

Minho’s eyes open, the peaceful feeling beginning to fade as he realizes what this means. “Wait,” he says, voice still groggy, “so that means…”

“That means Lucy’s with us,” Chan finishes, a little too cheerfully, as if trying to soften the blow. “Come on, it won’t be that bad.”

Minho doesn't say anything but his pout is apparent so Chan tries another way to soften him. “I'll cook breakfast,” he announces with a quick kiss on his cheek.

Minho sighs, feeling a familiar knot tighten in his stomach. He watches as Chan goes to wake Lucy, who stretches sleepily in her little bed before reaching up for him with a giggle.

“Morning, sweet Lucy!” Chan talks in his baby voice at her and then scoops her up, effortlessly shifting gears into a gentle, playful mode as he carries her to the kitchen.

Dreading the chaos of the next two days, Minho reluctantly drags himself out of bed, following the sound of Chan and Lucy’s laughter down the hall. When he steps into the kitchen, he finds Lucy settled in her high chair, happily munching on a piece of toast while Chan fusses over the coffee maker. Minho watches them, a mix of apprehension and resignation settling in.

Chan glances back at him, a soft, reassuring smile on his face. “It’ll be fine,” he says, as if reading Minho’s thoughts. “We’ve got this, okay?”

Minho sighs but nods, taking a seat across from Lucy as she gives him a crumb-covered smile. As much as he dreads the unfamiliar routine, a small part of him feels… almost grateful for Chan’s confidence. With a reluctant smile of his own, he reaches for a piece of toast, bracing himself for the day ahead.

However, in the afternoon, Chan has to leave to take care of something at the studio. Minho watches as Chan pulls on his jacket, glancing back at him with a smirk.

“She just went down for her nap, so you’re in the clear for a little while,” Chan teases.

He comes up to him and plants a quick peck on his lips, “Just… keep her in one piece until I get back, alright?” he jokingly says.

Minho rolls his eyes, a faint grin tugging at his lips. “I'll try.”

With a final wink, Chan heads out, leaving Minho alone in the quiet apartment. The silence is welcome, if temporary, and he lets out a slow sigh, hoping the next few hours pass smoothly.

An hour later, Lucy stirs awake, her small footsteps padding down the hallway. Minho sets out a plate of snacks for her, guiding her to the couch.

“Stay here, alright?” he says, voice firm. “I’m just going out to the balcony.”

Lucy nods, munching on a cracker as she watches him. Satisfied, Minho heads outside to the small balcony, grabbing the broom as he starts clearing away the damp leaves from the rainy afternoon.

He’s only half-focused when he hears the light patter of tiny feet behind him. Before he can react, Lucy slips on the wet floor, falling to her knees with a small yelp.

Minho rushes to her side, instinctively pulling her up. “Lucy!” he scolds, his voice sharper than he intended. “I told you to stay put! Why can’t you just listen?”

Lucy’s big eyes fill with tears, her lower lip trembling as she starts to cry, her tiny voice breaking as she murmurs, “I want Mommy…”

At her words, Minho’s frustration melts into a pang of guilt. He looks at her, realizing how small and innocent she really is, just a little girl caught up in an unfamiliar world. He takes a deep breath, softening his tone as he gently wipes her tears.

“Hey… I’m sorry,” he says, his voice barely a whisper. “I didn’t mean to yell.”

Lucy sniffles, looking up at him with a mixture of hurt and confusion. Minho feels the weight of her gaze, a new understanding settling over him. She didn’t ask for any of this, and for the first time, he really sees how vulnerable she is.

“Come on, let’s clean those knees,” he murmurs softly, taking her small hand in his as he guides her back inside.

As he bandages her scraped knees, he silently resolves to be gentler, realizing she’s not the cause of his frustration—she’s just an innocent bystander who needs someone to care.

“Does it still hurt?” He asks in slight concerns after covering the scrape on her knee with a bandaid.

Instead of answering, Lucy looks at him with her teary eyes and whines, “I want my Mommy.”

Minho frowns, his phone pressed to his ear as he tries to call you, glancing over at Lucy who’s curled up on the couch, her eyes still red from crying. She clutches a stuffed animal tightly, her gaze flicking between him and the phone, hope evident in her little face.

But after a few rings, the call goes to voicemail. He lets out a quiet sigh, mentally running through other options. If she can’t talk to her mom, he has to figure out some way to cheer her up on his own.

He crouches down beside her, offering her a small, tentative smile. “Hey, Lucy,” he says gently. “How about we eat something? I think we have something special in the fridge.”

Her interest piques slightly, though her expression remains uncertain as she nods.

Minho takes her in his arms and heads to the kitchen, he sits her down on the kitchen island, opening the freezer and pulling out a small tub of ice cream.

“Ice cream?” He asks with a soft smile but deep down he's hoping it works to, at least, make her stop asking for you.

The little girl wipes her wet cheek with the back of her hand and mumbles, “I want strawberry ice cream.”

“Strawberry ice cream for Lucy coming right up!” He cheerfully says.

Minho scoops some into a bowl, topping it with a few sprinkles as Lucy requested. When he hands her the bowl, her eyes light up, the faintest smile breaking through. She takes a cautious spoonful, then another, and before long, her mood visibly brightens.

Minho can’t help but feel a small sense of relief as he watches her savor each bite. “Is it good?” he asks, smiling softly.

Lucy nods, looking up at him with genuine gratitude. “Thank you,” she says, her small voice filled with warmth as she flashes him a fond smile.

Minho’s heart softens at the sight. He hadn’t expected something as simple as ice cream to work so well, but seeing her smile makes him realize that maybe, just maybe, he’s not so bad at this. For the first time, he feels a small connection with her, and it surprises him just how much it means.

-

Chan steps into the apartment, his nerves already on edge. He’s been wondering all day what sort of situation he’ll find when he gets home, half-expecting chaos—or at least a sulking Minho in the aftermath of a toddler-tantrum-filled day. He silently hopes that Minho’s “keep her in one piece” promise has held true.

But as he closes the door, he’s met with… silence.

The calm feels almost suspicious, and he takes a cautious step forward, peeking into the kitchen. His brows lift in surprise when he sees Minho standing at the counter, prepping dinner. And beside him, Lucy is perched on a chair, carefully placing sliced vegetables into a bowl under Minho’s watchful eye.

Chan can’t help but chuckle softly at the sight, folding his arms as he leans against the doorframe. “Wow, I thought you might’ve sent her to the orphanage by now.”

Minho glances over his shoulder, rolling his eyes but unable to hide a small grin. “Trust me, the temptation was there.”

Lucy giggles, glancing up at Minho with a shy smile. Chan’s heart warms at the sight, surprised and a little proud of how well they seem to be getting along.

Chan steps into the kitchen, giving Minho a playful nudge. “Seems like you survived after all,” he teases.

Minho scoffs but gives a reluctant nod. “Barely,” he mutters, though there’s a glimmer of something softer in his eyes as he glances at Lucy. He ruffles her hair as she hands him another handful of vegetables, and for the first time, Chan sees a gentleness there that makes him smile.

“Well,” Chan says, grabbing an apron to join in, “looks like I came home just in time for dinner with my two favorite chefs.”

As the evening winds down and bed time comes, Lucy bounces up to Minho, wrapping her tiny arms around his legs. “Goodnight!” she chirps, looking up at him with a grin.

Minho blinks in surprise, and though he hesitates, he can’t help but smile as he pats her head gently. “Mmh... Goodnight!”

Chan chuckles, scooping her up. “Alright, let's go,” he says, carrying her down the hall to the bedroom. He helps her into her pajamas, tucking her in under the blankets as she nestles into the bed.

“Is Mommy coming home soon?” she asks, her voice small, looking up at him with sleepy eyes.

Chan smiles softly, brushing a stray curl from her forehead. “Mommu will be back before you know it. Just one more day, and you’ll see Mommy again.”

He draws hee closer to his side, suddenly feeling protective of her at the reminder that she has no one but you. “So, Lucy, do you like staying here with me?” he curiously asks.

Lucy innocently nods as she stares at his face.

“How about Minho? Did you have fun today with Minho?”

With her eyes getting heavier with each passing second, Lucy nods again. However, Chan can’t help but ask her one more question.

“Do you like me more or Minho more?”

After a while, Lucy confidently answers. "Chan!"

Even though the answer is as expected, Chan triumphantly smiles at that. He presses a soft kiss on the top of Lucy’s head and holds her close.

A yawn slipping out as she snuggles deeper into her pillow. Chan begins to hum her favorite lullaby, his voice soft and soothing as he sings until her eyes finally close and her breathing evens out.

When he looks up, he notices Minho leaning quietly in the doorway, watching them. There’s a gentleness in Minho’s gaze that makes Chan’s heart swell. Minho might not say it, but Chan can see that he’s slowly warming up to Lucy, and it brings a warmth to his heart.

Chan gives Lucy a soft kiss on the forehead, mouthing, “Goodnight,” before he stands and gently closes the door behind him.

As Chan steps out of Lucy’s room and joins Minho, Minho quirks an eyebrow, an amused glint in his eyes. “Look at you, playing the doting daddy,” he teases, crossing his arms.

Chan rolls his eyes, nudging him playfully. “You’re just jealous,” he replies, chuckling. “Admit it.”

Minho just shrugs with a smirk, but there’s no real irritation behind his words. They head to their own bedroom, slipping under the covers, and Chan reaches out to take Minho’s hand in his, giving it a gentle squeeze.

“Thank you, Minho,” he murmurs, his voice soft and sincere. “For… everything. For being understanding, for accepting Lucy without a second thought, and for being here with me through this.”

His gaze is warm, filled with gratitude as he looks into Minho’s eyes. “I don’t take it for granted, you know? I’m really grateful for you.”

Minho’s smirk softens into a small, genuine smile. He shifts closer, leaning his forehead against Chan’s. “You’re lucky I like you, Bang Chan,” he whispers, his voice playful but filled with warmth.

Chan chuckles, brushing his thumb over Minho’s hand. “I am lucky,” he replies, his voice gentle as he presses a soft kiss to Minho’s forehead, feeling a sense of peace settle over him. With Minho by his side, he knows he can face anything—even the unexpected challenges they’re now facing together.

-

The next day, Chan, Minho, and little Lucy head out to the grocery store together. As they walk in, they’re greeted by Halloween decorations lining the aisles—glowing pumpkins, skeletons, and eerie ghost dolls hanging from the ceiling. Lucy’s eyes grow wide, and she clings to Minho’s leg, hiding behind him as a particularly spooky skeleton’s jaw clatters with a creepy laugh.

Minho chuckles, glancing down at her. “They’re just dolls, Lucy,” he says reassuringly, giving one of the decorations a little poke on the eyes.

“See? Not scary at all.” He winks at her, trying to make her laugh by mimicking the skeleton’s spooky laugh.

Seeing Minho’s teasing brings a tiny smile to Lucy’s face, and she clutches his hand a bit less tightly, sticking close by his side as they continue down the aisle.

Meanwhile, Chan’s eyes light up as he spots a display of Halloween costumes.

“Oh! We should do matching costumes,” he exclaims, rifling through the racks with growing excitement. “What about pirates? Or superheroes?”

Minho raises an eyebrow, amused. “Are you really trying to dress us all up for Halloween?”

Chan grins, holding up a little cape and mask for Lucy. “Come on, it’ll be fun! Look, Lucy could be a little superhero,” he says, his enthusiasm contagious.

Lucy giggles, her earlier fright forgotten as she clutches the cape, trying to wrap it around herself.

Later that evening, after their grocery run, the three of them settle down in the living room for a cozy movie night. Lucy curls up on the couch between them, her eyes glued to the screen as the movie plays. Somewhere near the end, her little head begins to droop, and before long, she’s fast asleep, resting comfortably against Minho’s arm.

Chan chuckles, nudging Minho with a grin. “Look at you, Mr. Not Jealous. You’re practically her favorite pillow.”

Minho scoffs, rolling his eyes, but there’s a fond smile on his face as he glances down at the sleeping child in his arms. He carefully stands, lifting her in his arms as he heads to her room. He tucks her in gently, pulling the blankets up to her chin before quietly slipping out of the room.

When he returns to the living room, Chan’s waiting with a soft smile. “You’re really good with her, you know?” Chan says, wrapping an arm around him as they settle back on the couch.

Minho just shrugs, a bit flustered but warmed by Chan’s words. “Yeah, well… she’s not so bad,” he mutters, though there’s a softness in his voice that speaks volumes.

As Minho joins Chan in bed, Chan immediately pulls him into his arms, taking advantage of the rare alone time to shower him with gentle kisses. Minho smirks, leaning into Chan’s warmth as he presses fluttering kisses on his neck.

Not having enough, Chan hovers above him. Their lips make the first contact before the rest of their bodies become one on the bed. In a second, Minho’s hands going all over Chan’s body, trailing his broad shoulders, tracing the ridges of his abs, the muscles on his back and as soon as Chan lowers himself on him, Minho’s hands are gliding down his back and not stopping until his hands meet Chan’s ample ass.

Chan smiles against his lips as Minho starts fondling on his asscheek and Chan gets back at him by feeling Minho’s growing bulge inside his sweatpants.

With everything that happened, it feels like a long time since the last time they had sex. Chan needs this and with the way Minho easily giving in to what he wants, he knows Minho needs this just as much.

However, as things start to heat up— a quiet knock interrupts them.

With his hands resting on his chest, Minho slowly pushes Chan away and says, “Better luck next time!”

Chan sighs but quickly gets up, opening the door to find Lucy standing there, clutching her plushie with tears streaming down her cheeks. The soft rumble of thunder echoes outside, and she sniffles, looking up at him with frightened eyes.

“I'm scared,” she mumbles and gets startled at the sound of thunder.

“Hey, it’s alright, sweetheart,” Chan murmurs gently, crouching down to her level. He lifts her into his arms and brings her into the bedroom, letting her settle down on the bed between him and Minho.

As she clutches her plushie, Chan pats her back, softly humming her favorite lullaby, his voice a low and calming melody against the rumbling storm outside. Slowly, Lucy’s eyes flutter closed, and she drifts off, her breathing steady and peaceful.

Chan glances over at Minho, a mischievous smile on his face. “Hey, let's have one of these,” he whispers playfully.

Minho rolls his eyes but can’t hold back a grin. “Only if you’re the one carrying it,” he whispers back, nudging him.

Chan chuckles quietly, pulling Minho’s hand into his own under the covers. Despite all his initial worries, he feels this warm, comforting feeling settle over him. Having Lucy here, nestled safely between them, only seems to make his bond with Minho stronger. What he once thought might strain their relationship now feels like it’s brought them closer, and he realizes just how much Minho means to him.

They lie there together, hands intertwined, both feeling a quiet sense of peace as they watch over the sleeping child between them.

-

Minho wakes up to the soft sight of little Lucy nestled close to Chan’s arm, her tiny form making Chan look even broader and more protective beside her. Minho smiles, watching them for a moment before slipping out of bed, letting the two sleep in a little longer.

The sunlight spills into the kitchen, bright and warm, washing away any traces of the storm from the night before. As Minho pulls out ingredients from the fridge, he hears tiny footsteps padding across the floor. He turns to see Lucy, dragging her favorite plushie along, her eyes still a bit sleepy.

“Morning, Lucy,” he says softly, setting a plate on the table for her with a warm cheese omelet. Lucy climbs into her chair, her eyes lighting up as she takes a bite.

Minho smirks, watching her enjoy the food. “So,” he says with a playful grin, “who’s the better cook—me or Mommy?”

Lucy giggles, her cheeks puffed from her bite. “Mommy!” she replies without hesitation, her answer sweetly innocent.

Minho huffs in mock offense, rolling his eyes. “Biased,” he mutters under his breath, but he can’t help smiling as he watches her eat with such enthusiasm.

Before long, Chan shuffles into the kitchen, still a bit groggy but smiling at the sight of Lucy happily munching away and Minho standing over the stove. He slips an arm around Minho’s waist, pressing a quick kiss to his cheek before taking a seat at the table.

“Morning,” Chan mumbles with another kiss pressed to his neck. He then turns to the little girl busy eating her breakfast and places a kiss on her head, “Morning, cutie Lucy,” he says with his high, saccharine voice.

Minho watches them, a warm feeling settling in his chest as he takes in the cozy scene. Just like Chan had joked, it really does feel like a little family. But as he watches Chan laugh with Lucy over breakfast, Minho realizes he doesn’t have to pretend—it truly feels like this is his family, too.

-

The late morning sunlight spills across the living room as the three of them lounge comfortably on the couch, watching Lucy’s favorite cartoon. She’s nestled between Chan and Minho, completely captivated, while Minho has his arm draped casually over the back of the sofa, feeling more at ease than he would have thought possible.

But the cozy moment is interrupted by the sound of the doorbell. Minho groans, getting up to answer it, only to find you standing there, suitcase beside you. He blinks in mild surprise before his face softens, and you exchange a quick hug.

“I lost track of the new passcode,” you say with a chuckle, shrugging apologetically.

“No worries,” he replies, stepping aside to let you in.

Without hesitating, you come up to him for a quick hug, “How are you, Minho? I hope everything is well.”

Minho sheepishly smiles and closes the door behind him, “I hope so too,” he jokingly says.

The second you announce your arrival, little footsteps echo through the hallway as Lucy comes running, her face lighting up at the sight of you. She rushes over, throwing her arms around your legs, and you crouch down to hug her back.

As you greet Chan and settle in, the lively energy Lucy brings to the room returns with her laughter filling the space. Everything feels normal again—but as Minho looks around, he realizes this new rhythm, this new arrangement, is his normal now too.

It’s strange to think how far he’s come from his initial reluctance, but he can’t deny the warmth and quiet joy that fills him at the sight of this little makeshift family.

-

The kitchen is filled with the comforting sounds of chopping and simmering as you and Minho work together to prepare dinner. The faint laughter of Chan and Lucy playing in the living room drifts into the space, adding to the cozy warmth of the evening.

“You really should be resting after your trip,” Minho says, glancing at you as he chops vegetables with practiced ease.

You shake your head, a small smile on your lips. “I need to feel useful after being away. Besides, I wanted to thank you properly—for taking care of Lucy while I was gone.”

Minho shrugs, trying to act nonchalant, but a hint of a smile tugs at his lips. “She’s not so bad… keeps things interesting around here.”

Taking a deep breath, you seize the quiet moment between the two of you. “Minho… there’s something I need to tell you. I didn’t come here to interfere or… to try to win Chan back.”

He raises an eyebrow, smirking as he places the knife down and looks at you. “Good to know. I mean, I would hope you aren’t here to take him away from me. I’d miss the guy.”

A light laugh escapes you, and you feel the tension ease, if only a little. “Honestly, I wanted to be up-front. Lucy isn’t Chan’s child. She… I had her with someone else, after I made a mistake while I was still with Chan.”

You pause, struggling to hold back the guilt that still lingers. “I never told him. I was too ashamed, and I thought it would be better if he didn’t know.”

Minho’s expression softens as he takes in your words. He understands why you did what you did. He picks his words carefully before saying them out loud.

“For what it’s worth, you don’t have to carry that guilt here. Chan’s treating Lucy like she’s his own because, well, that’s just who he is. And… she’s lucky to have him in her life. We both are.”

You've been carrying it for a long while and your heart lifts at his words. For that, you offer a sincere smile and gratitude. “Thank you, Minho. For understanding, and for... letting us stay here.”

Minho gives a small nod, and his usual teasing smile returns. “Well, you’re lucky Lucy’s cute. She’s winning me over. Just don’t go telling her that.”

You’re silent for a moment, gathering your thoughts. As you continue slicing vegetables, you glance at Minho, hesitating, then finally let out a gentle sigh.

“Chan… he looks so happy with you,” you say, voice soft. “I can see it. He really loves you. I hope you know that.”

Minho pauses, clearly caught off guard by your words. “Yeah?” he asks, almost shyly, though he tries to play it off with a small smile.

You nod, your gaze shifting to where Chan is with Lucy, his laughter filling the living room. “He deserves to be with someone who makes him this happy. I couldn’t give him that but you do. And I really, really hope things work out for you both.”

Minho’s expression softens, a hint of gratitude flickering in his eyes that he doesn’t know how to react to that. “Thank you. That means… well, more than you might think.”

You both fall silent, the sound of your movements in the kitchen blending with the distant laughter of Chan and Lucy. In that moment, you feel a quiet sense of relief, knowing that Chan has found someone who truly cares for him, and that you’ve left him in good hands.

-

Dinner is lively, filled with light chatter and laughter as everyone enjoys the meal. Between bites, Chan glances over at Lucy, attentively wipes her slobbering mouth with a napkin. He beams when he remembers something.

“Hey, would it be alright if I took Lucy to the park tomorrow? I know a spot she’d love.”

You swallow your food and put your spoon down to answer him. “I plan on begin looking for an apartment anyway, so that would be perfect.”

Without missing a beat, Minho clears his throat and injects himself into the conversation.“Well, you’re in luck—I just so happen to have a cozy apartment that I keep meaning to rent out. Figured I might sell it eventually, but,” he shrugs playfully and glances over at Chan, “I keep it around in case I need an escape from Chan.”

The table erupts into laughter, and you look at him, surprised but grateful. “Are you serious? I’d be so thankful. Really.”

Minho nods with a grin and casually shrugs again, “Consider it yours, then.”

Chan catches Minho’s eye, a quiet look of gratitude passing between them. He feels a surge of pride, but more than that, a sense of certainty that Minho is truly the one he’s meant to be with.

Later that night, as they lay side by side in bed, Chan gently pulls Minho close, wrapping an arm around him. He presses a long kiss on his neck before deeply looking into his eyes to tell him his feelings.

“You know, I’ve never felt this sure about anyone before,” he murmurs. “I feel like… you’re the one I’ve been waiting for, Minho.”

Minho rolls his eyes but can’t hide the blush creeping across his face. “You’re getting sappy again, Chan.”

Chan chuckles softly, then leans in, his lips brushing Minho’s in a tender, lingering kiss. “I mean it,” he whispers. “I love you so much.”

Unexpectedly, Minho melts right away from Chan's confession, his usual sarcasm fading, and after a moment, he cups Chan’s face, a small smile playing at his lips. “I love you too.”

In this perfect, quiet moment, Chan knows that he’s exactly where he’s meant to be.

-

Moving into Minho’s apartment has felt like starting fresh—a safe, cozy space for you and Lucy, free from the burdens you once carried. It’s peaceful, even comforting, though sometimes it’s hard to shake the feeling of gratitude toward Chan and Minho for being there when you needed it most. They’ve become part of your life in a way you never anticipated, like family.

The apartment is still a mess and you struggle to find your makeup pouch from the unpacked boxes. When you finally found what you're looking for, you run back to the living room and squat down to be on the same level with Lucy. You carefully draw thin, delicate whiskers on Lucy's cheeks, stepping back to admire her in her little mouse costume. She giggles, wriggling with excitement as you look at her with a big smile on your face.

“Look at you, you cute little mouse!” you grin, smoothing down her costume.

Just then, the doorbell rings, and Lucy’s eyes light up as she dashes for the door. Her little tail wagging amd drags across the hardwood floor as she runs.

“Who do you think it is?” you ask playfully, following her.

She’s practically bouncing as you open the door, and there stand Chan and Minho, beaming.

“Oh?! I can see it now,” You gasp and chuckle when you finally recognize where they got the reference for their costumes. It's from Lucy’s favorite movie, Ratatouille.

Chan’s dressed in a chef’s outfit, his red wig comically tousled like Linguini’s, while Minho, wearing a sharp black suit and a deep scowl, plays the perfect Anton Ego.

Chan immediately crouches down, holding out his arms. “There’s my little Remy!” he cheers, and Lucy runs into his arms, giggling as he lifts her up.

Minho nods, raising a brow and it’s rather dramatic with the dark eye makeup. “Impeccable taste in costume, I must say,” he says with mock seriousness, giving Lucy an approving look.

“Wow, you all really went with the theme,” you laugh, impressed. “You even got the scowl right, Minho.”

Minho smirks, crossing his arms. “Of course. It’s a role I was born to play,” he says dryly, earning a playful nudge from Chan.

They line up in front of the camera, Lucy perched proudly on Chan’s shoulders, clutching his chef’s hat, with Minho standing beside them, a half-smile tugging at his lips. You help direct their poses, snapping a few photos as they make silly faces, then switch to a few “serious” ones with Minho scowling dramatically.

The three of them are laughing together, looking so natural and happy, and as you watch through the lens, your heart swells with warmth. This little found family has its own kind of magic, and it feels like something that might just last.

-

As Chan and Lucy head out for trick-or-treating, the apartment feels a little quieter, but comfortably so. You and Minho settle into the kitchen, rolling up your sleeves and preparing ingredients to bake cookies. There’s a sense of ease between you, both of you slipping into a relaxed rhythm of mixing, sifting, and rolling dough, laughter and chatter filling the room.

“So, how are you settling in here?” Minho asks, genuine curiosity in his voice.

“Actually, it’s been good. Lucy’s adapting well, and I have you to thank for that.” You glance around the apartment, an appreciative gleam in your eyes. “It already feels like a home.”

Minho chuckles, looking a little proud as he dusted the dough with more flour. “I’m glad to hear that. Honestly, I wasn’t sure if this place would be what you needed, but you’re making it work.”

A moment passes in silence as you consider whether it's appropiate or not for you to ask something personal with him. After a while though, you glance at him thoughtfully and decide to take a shot.

“So... you and Chan,” you say, a gentle nudge in your tone. “Are you thinking about... taking things to the next level?”

Minho chuckles at first, lifting a brow at you and he stays quiet, you take it that he doesn’t want to answer until he turns to face you.

“The next level? What, like adopting a cat?” he teases, though you can see the thought truly crosses his mind as he softens a bit. “But honestly... I know Chan. He’s always had this dream, you know? That picture-perfect life with a family, a house with a white fence, a dog… all of it.”

He pauses, looking down as he carefully arranges the cookie dough on the sheet. “Sometimes I wonder if I can give him that,” he admits quietly, his voice just above a whisper. “It’s not like I’m against it… I just don’t know if I’m enough to be his whole dream.”

You nod, understanding the weight of his thoughts and take a moment to assess it. “I think that dream matters to him, sure. But I also know that Chan loves you, and that’s the part that matters most.”

You give him a reassuring look and a warm smile. “If there’s anyone who can make him happy, it’s you. And honestly? What you two have—it's special. I’d be heartbroken if anything ever changed that.”

Minho looks at you, a slight smile pulling at his lips. He seems more at ease, even if only a little, as he nods in quiet appreciation.

“Thanks,” he says, voice soft. “It’s nice to hear that.”

He carefully slides the cookie tray into the oven, letting the warmth of your words and the baking cookies fill the space.

Chan and Lucy return from trick-or-treating just as the smell of freshly baked cookies are out of the oven. The moment they step inside, Lucy’s eyes light up at the sight of the cookies on the counter, and she eagerly scrambles onto the couch, settling in with her treat.

Everyone gathers in the cozy living room, laughing, sipping milk, and munching on warm cookies as a Halloween movie plays on the TV. But the true entertainment comes from you and Minho playfully teasing Chan, trading stories and memories like a friendly roast.

“Oh, he’s still as bad at drinking as he was back then,” you laugh, nudging Chan as he shakes his head, looking mildly embarrassed.

“Not to mention the spice thing,” Minho chimes in, smirking. “Can’t handle anything remotely spicy, huh?”

Chan groans, holding up his hands in defeat. “What can I say? Some things never change,” he grins, rolling his eyes good-naturedly.

“Oh! Grow up, Chan!” You tease him with a mocking grin.

As the night gets late, Lucy falls asleep on Chan’s lap, her face calm and content from the night’s excitement. Gently, Chan scoops her up and carries her to bed, laying her down and carefully tucking her in. You join him, and together, you watch her peaceful expression, a feeling of warmth settling over the room.

“Thank you, Chan,” you say softly, watching your daughter sleep. “I’ve never seen Lucy this happy. She really, really likes you.”

Chan smiles, his gaze softening as he endearingly putting away the haie covering Lucy’s face. “She’s a great girl. Makes it easy.”

For a moment, Chan simply watches Lucy sleeping, endearingly putting the hair away from her face and then, he looks at you. With a gentle tone, he asks, “Can I… Can I be Lucy’s godfather?”

Your heart skips at the suddenness of his wish and how unexpected it is. Before you can respond, you feel the urge to tell him the truth, wanting him to understand everything.

“Chan, I know I should have told you sooner that Lucy is—”

Before you get to finish your sentence, Chan shakes his head and stopping you. “Despite it all, I want to be there for her, and for you.”

Overwhelmed by his words, you nod, a genuine smile breaking through. “I would love to, Chan. Besides, I can't trust Lucy to anyone else but you.”

Chan laughs lightly, his voice a warm whisper. “Not even Minho?” he teases with an eyebrow raised.

You laugh, nudging him playfully and lower your voice as you say, “Especially Minho.”

A gentle quiet fills the room as you both stand there, and for a moment, it feels like everything is exactly where it’s supposed to be.

-

Chan stands by the door, lingering a moment longer than he intended as you walk up to him with a gentle, knowing smile. “Thank you for everything, Chan,” you say, pulling him into a warm hug. He holds you close, feeling the quiet gratitude that flows between you.

When you pull away, there’s a slight shimmer in your eyes, and he gives you a reassuring nod, as if to say he’ll always be there, no matter what. “If you ever need anything,” he says quietly, “don’t hesitate, alright?”

You nod, laughing softly as Minho steps forward, offering a half-smirk. “Maybe not from me, though,” he quips, rolling his eyes with a small grin.

But when you hug him too, he softens, returning your thanks with a quiet sincerity that he doesn’t often show.

As you release Minho from the warm hug, you take a steady breath, your gaze softening as you look at the two of them.

“Thank you,” you say, voice thick with emotion. “For the first time in so long, I feel like I belong somewhere—like Lucy and I finally have a place and people we can call ours. I’m grateful for both of you.”

Chan smiles, squeezing your hand gently. “That’s what family’s for,” he says, his tone warm and steady. Minho offers a half-smile, trying to brush off the emotion, but there’s a glint of understanding in his eyes.

“Goodnight,” Chan says to you before stepping out of the apartment with Minho.

“Goodnight,” you say back as you linger in the doorway and watching them disappear into the elevator.

-

As Chan and Minho walk together, hand in hand under the soft glow of the city lights, Chan takes a deep breath, letting the cool night air fill his lungs. This—right here, right now—feels like home in a way he’s never known before.

He glances over at Minho, who’s watching the path ahead, his profile softened by the moonlight. Chan gives his hand a gentle squeeze, feeling a swell of gratitude for everything they’ve come through to reach this moment. For all the unexpected turns, the people they’ve grown to love, and the bonds they’ve forged. Somehow, everything led him here—to the love he’s waited for, the family he’s built, and the life he never thought he’d find.

“You know,” he says quietly, a tenderness in his voice, “I think I finally understand what it means to be whole. It’s not about finding pieces you think you’re missing. It’s about realizing that what you have is exactly enough.”

Minho looks over at him, a hint of something deep and unspoken in his eyes. “Then let’s keep it this way,” he murmurs, “for as long as we can.”

And as they continue down the quiet streets together, Chan knows that even if life shifts and changes again, he’ll always have this—the kind of love and contentment that makes every struggle worth it. Because they’re not just walking home tonight; they’re building one, with each other, step by step.

-

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[sour-cherryyy]

BLUE KISSES. 〜Ni-ki

Pairing: Bf!Ni-ki x Gf!reader. Summary: Overwhelmed by school, you push Niki away—but he returns with snacks, flowers, and a kiss that quiets the storm inside you. Word count: 1.2k words. A/n: Angst/ fluff. This one is slightly longer than the last one and lowkey out of my comfort zone bc I despise angst. Also, I've never written a kiss scene in my life so this was so new to me. Now playing: Love Poem By IU.

---------------------------------------------------------˚✿🫐

The doorbell rings. You know who it is- your boyfriend. You’ve been ignoring his calls and messages for the whole day and naturally he showed up to your house, worried and in need of the confirmation that you're alive. After another ring, and another, you heard beeping as he keyed in the passcode and the door gave a soft click as it unlocked. There was a quiet thud of shoes slipping off and the faint noise of feet shuffling grew louder and louder, as he reached our door. You don’t look up. The soft tap of footsteps approaches, hesitant, careful not to disturb what little peace you might have left. But peace feels foreign lately. 

You’re hunched over your desk; books are strewn like battlefield casualties across every inch. Highlighters dried up mid-sentence. Sticky notes curl at the edges, failing to hold onto anything but failed attempts. Scrunched papers form a fort all around you. The blue glow of your laptop screen washes your face in cold light. And you don’t realize it, but your shoulders are trembling slightly. 

“Hey,” Niki says, voice barely above a whisper. He always speaks softly in your space, as if your apartment is a chapel and he, reverent. “I brought the new strawberry milk you like.” 

You say nothing. 

A beat. Then, cautiously, he places the bottle on the corner of the desk where there’s barely room. He doesn’t know where to put his hands, so he puts them in his pockets. There’s a slight fidget to him, but he masks it with a smile you don’t see. 

“You okay?” 

You flinch at the question. Not because it’s unkind, but because it’s the wrong time. 

Your voice cracks out before you can catch it. “Can you... can you just go, Niki? Please? I didn’t answer your calls and messages on purpose. I’m being suffocated by deadlines, finals are around the corner, and I look a mess.” 

He freezes. You hear the stillness before you see it. And when you finally look up with tears decorating your face, his smile is gone. 

“I just… I can’t have you here right now,” you say, the words tasting like shame. “Everything’s piling up, and I can’t think straight, and I look awful, and you’re here being all perfect and I—” 

You stop yourself. But it’s too late. The damage is done. 

You glance up briefly. His eyes are darker now, shadowed with something that isn’t anger. It’s softer. Sadder. But it cuts deeper. 

He nods once. The hurt is subtle, but unmistakable. 

“Okay,” he says, quietly. “I’ll go.” 

The door clicks shut a few seconds later. You stare at it, willing yourself not to cry. 

---------------------------------------------------------

You lose track of time. Ten minutes? Twenty? An hour? You bury yourself in readings and notes, but the words blur. Your mind spins and you seem to be learning nothing. There’s an ache behind your eyes. The kind that tells you sleep is a ghost you won’t catch tonight. 

There’s a knock. Three soft taps. The kind only one person makes. 

You open the door. 

He’s standing there with arms full. A bag of snacks balanced precariously against his chest. A small bouquet of blue daisies in one hand. 

“Hi,” he says, like it’s the first time. “I thought maybe... you could use a little less world on your shoulders.” 

You blink, throat closing with guilt, relief, and something fragile. 

“You came back.” 

“I always will.” 

“I don't deserve you.” You scoff at your stupidity from earlier. 

He steps inside and the air shifts. The room feels warmer. Softer. 

He doesn’t say anything more as he sets the snacks on the table, each item placed gently like a small offering. Your favourite, every one. You don’t remember telling him about the sour candy, but he remembered. Nor do you remember mentioning how daisies were your favourite flower, but he remembered. 

He hands you the flowers. 

“You always say blue feels like sadness,” he murmurs. “But I think it can be gentle too.” 

The daisies are wrapped in brown paper, tied with a ribbon. They smell like rain. 

“Thank you,” you whisper. 

You sit on the couch. He joins you, but keeps a little space between you. Waiting. Respecting. 

“I’m sorry for before,” you say. “I didn’t mean to push you away. I just… I hate you seeing me like that. Like this.” You give him a sad excuse of a smile. 

He turns his head, eyes finding yours. There’s no judgment in them. Just patience. 

“I don’t love you because you’re always okay,” he says. “I love you because you’re you. In every state you’re in.” 

The words break something loose inside you. You exhale, long and slow. Then you lean into him. Your head against his shoulder. His arm around you, careful and warm. 

He rests his chin gently on your hair. 

“You don’t have to say anything,” he murmurs. “Not tonight.” 

You don’t. 

You just sit there, soaking up his presence like sunlight through a window you forgot was open. 

Minutes pass. Then maybe more. He moves just enough to face you, brushing his fingers across your cheek, staring at your glassy eyes, admiring your beauty. 

“Can I?” he asks as he inches his face closer. 

You nod. 

He leans in slowly. His hand finds the side of your face, thumb brushing just beneath your eye, where a tear had threatened to fall. You tilt your head slightly and he meets you there-not with urgency, but with care. 

The kiss is soft at first. A gentle press of lips, tentative and warm. Then he deepens it, just enough to make your breath catch. There's nothing rushed about it—it's all understanding, all forgiveness, all the words you couldn't say spilling out in the way his lips move against yours. His other hand settles on your waist, grounding you, holding you close but never caging you. 

You melt into it, into him. The scent of his perfume, the quiet hum in his chest, the way he exhales through his nose like he’s been holding that breath all day. 

When he pulls back, his forehead rests gently against yours. Your noses brush, breaths mingling in the small space between.  

It was a blue kiss. One that speaks sadness, and invokes healing.  

“I love you,” he says. “Always.” 

“I love you more.” 

Later, you curl up beside him on the couch, wrapped in one of his hoodies and the blanket you both always fight over. He pulls you closer, fingers tracing soft circles on your back. The kind of touch that doesn’t ask for anything. The kind that says, ‘stay’. 

The storm outside your window has stopped. You hadn’t even noticed it had started. But now it’s quiet. 

And so are you. 

Your eyes flutter closed. And in the softness of his arms, and the warmth of his breath against your skin, you finally fall asleep. 

Two posts in one day? Part of me is screaming that I should save up my posts bc I know there will come a time where I'll have nothing but this is just too fun. Did we like it?? I hope we did! Again, constructive criticism is appreciated. This is not proof read so lmk if there are any typos. Thank you, -EL (masterlist)

[rafeandonlyrafe]

camboy

words: 3.9k

warnings: 18+ only!, smut, camming (from rafe and reader), exhibitionism, male and female masturbation, female receiving oral, male receiving handjob, p in v sex, unprotected sex

taglist: @drewstarkeysbae @thelomlisrafecameron @f4ll-for-you @dilvcv @slut4drudy @drewsbabygirll @jjmaybankswifes-blog @rafescokenostril @jjsmarijuana @jjmaybankisbae @seeingstarks

you rush up the stairs to your apartment, unlocking the door and closing it behind you as quickly as you can move. you discard your work bag next to your front door, not even taking the time to hang it on the hook as you rush to your desk.

"come on…" you groan, waiting for your laptop to start up. you enter your passcode and navigate to your most visited website, just in time for the livestream to start.

you sit back in your chair as the familiar site comes into view. it’s his top half, shirtless of course, the camera cutting him off just under the chin, his abs on display as well. you bite your lip as he waits for the viewers to pour in now that he’s live.

you were masturbating half-heartedly one day, scrolling through some random porn site when you saw a livestreamer, and something about him instantly turned you on. you clicked on when he was almost finished, stroking himself to completion as he came all over his stomach. you finished the same time he did, and ever since have tuned in for his semiweekly livestreams.

the porn site has a simple way for the livestreamers to post messages, for advertising their upcoming streams or updating viewers. your favorite streamer posted after the last livestream that he was finally going to be granting viewers wishes, and is doing a voice reveal tonight. 

he would moan lowly in previous streams, but never spoke any words. you watch as he lowers the camera, so his spread legs come into view, his erection already straining through the underwear he has on, tight to his muscular thighs.

“hello kittens.” he purs out, using the name he affectionately calls his fans. the back of your brain tickles, trying to place why the voice sounds so familiar as he continues to speak about doing a voice reveal, and how he’s excited for the upcoming stream, proven by his hand starting to stroke over his cock.

you watch with anticipation as he lifts his thighs to tug his underwear down, his hard cock springing free. you spread your legs in your desk chair and move your fingers to your pussy, slipping your hand underneath your pants to rub yourself. 

you close your eyes and listen to his voice, trying to see if you really do know who it is, or if its just close to a voice you’ve heard before. 

you eventually get too distracted to continue filing through your brain, especially as he starts to stroke himself, moaning to the audience as he does.

“good little kitten. so dirty, touching yourself while watching me touch myself. wish you were here, i’d have you bouncing on my cock.” your cunt clenches at the thought, wishing that you could see the mans face as he moans.

you know he isn’t talking to you directly, but it feels so personal, like you’re the only one watching, and when he cums all over himself, you reach your climax as well, slumping back in your chair as your eyes stay on the screen, watching the way his chest rises and falls.

you try to place his voice again when he signs off, but the livestream ends before you can fully connect your thoughts.

--

you hum set your laptop up on your bed, grabbing your vibrator and covering yourself with your blanket, settling down for another livestream. you’ve been thinking about that voice every day, and listening extra close to everyone that you knew. you think that you’re being a little crazy, that there’s no way your favorite livestreamer just happens to be someone you know, but you can’t get rid of that familiar feeling.

you watch with anticipation as the livestream begins, this time the man holds up his hands, showing off the rings that stack his fingers. he always does more than just a simple livestream, adding some new element every time. 

you admire his long slender fingers and think about them being inside of you as you begin to touch yourself, when one ring in particular catches your eye. you pull your laptop closer, eyes widening when you finally make the connection.

your favorite streamer is none other than rafe cameron.

--

“you never come out to parties, what is going on with you?” your friend sarah asks, linking your elbows together as you walk into the backyard of the house, following the pumping music. you understand her confusion, and were about to turn down her invitation, when she said that the party was at tanneyhill. 

“it’s been too long.” you simply say, leaving out the fact that it’s been too long since you’ve seen rafe. not since you graduated high school, considering you don’t really run in the same circles.

“so true. i can’t wait to get drunk with you.” sarah squeals, pulling you over to the bar you know rafe must have supplied, grabbing drinks for the both of you.

you find a corner to sit and drink in, both deciding you can’t start dancing until you have a bit more alcohol in your blood. the whole time, you are looking for rafe, waiting to get your first glimpse of him in person since figuring out that you’ve been watching him jack off twice a week on stream for the past couple months. 

“i’m ready to dance, what about you?” sarah asks, setting her finished cup down on the table.

“yeah, i’ll be there in a second.” you crane your neck, trying to find where rafe could be hiding. you see a couple of people heading through open doors and you decide to see if hes in there. you really just want to see him in person again, to quell that feeling inside of yourself. you remember thinking he was cute in high school, but it’s so different now that you’re both grown.

you head through the doors, keeping your walk casual. no one really gives you a second glance as you head deeper into the space, still not seeing or hearing rafe.

you head up the stairs, hearing a bit of commotion. you follow the catwalk to a half open door, pushing it wider slightly when you’re greeted by a familiar sight. a ring light with a camera inside of it, pointed right at the chair you know so well.

“what are you doing?” 

you gasp, turning towards the voice and taking an instinctive step backwards, further into the room. 

you come face to face with the man you’ve been looking for. rafe looks down at you, not looking upset, more confused than anything else.

“i’m sorry, i-i-” you stumble over your words as he looks you up and down, assessing you and your little black dress sarah convinced you to wear “i was just looking for someone.”

“mmm.” rafe nods, taking a step closer to you. you resist the urge to back up, keeping your heels firmly in place. “did you find them?” “y-yes.” you say without thinking, your traitorous eyes glancing down, down to his crotch. you hate that you know exactly what every ridge of his cock looks like without ever actually being able to see it. your eyes snap back up once you realize where you’re staring, taking in the look on rafes face.

“do you…” rafe trails off, taking another step towards you and this time forcing you into the room. you watch as rafe swings the door shut behind him. you glance again at the camera set up as he stands there in silence.

“y/n, right?” he questions.

“yeah.” you nod. “i… are you a gamer?” you wave your hand to the set up, hoping to play off your interest in it.

“no.” rafe simply says, crossing his arms, allowing his muscles to bulge. “i think you know exactly why i have that camera.” “am i that obvious?” you stare at your feet, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.

“your blush gave you away.” rafe says, and you feel your cheeks heat even more. rafe takes a cautious step forward, placing his finger under your chin and tilting your head up to look him in the eye. “you know, i had the biggest crush on you in high school.” “really?” you question, not able to hold back your smile. 

“mhm. i would be embarrassed to tell you if you didn’t watch me jerk off on livestream.” rafe says, and you can’t help the laugh that bursts out of you.

“can i kiss you?” rafe asks, making you cut off your laughter as you quickly nod. rafe connects your lips, gentle at first until you start to respond. the second you kiss back, rafe attacks your mouth with his own, showing his desperation as his hands pull you against his body.

“rafe.” you moan, tossing your head back as he ghosts his lips against your jaw before sliding down your neck, sticking his tongue out to taste your skin.

“i want you.” rafe says, pushing his hips against you to show how serious he is. you moan at his impressive length pressing against you as his teeth nip at your sensitive skin.

“you can have me.” you whisper, tugging on his hair to bring his mouth back against yours. you let rafe move your body towards his bed, not disconnecting from the kiss as you both lay down, rafe hovering on top of you as you begin to unbutton his shirt, sliding it off his shoulders so you can touch the chest and abs you’ve spent so long lusting over.

rafe turns to the side so he’s also laying down, using both his hands to grab your chest, massaging your tits as you moan into his mouth, hooking one leg over his hips and pulling yourself into him, grinding your core directly against his swelling length.

rafe rips the front of your dress down, letting your bare tits spill free. rafe pulls away from the kiss to glance down, a cocky smirk coming to his face when he realizes you went braless. 

“gotta get my mouth on these.” rafe mumbles, sliding down the bed as he grabs your boob, wrapping his lips around your nipple and giving it a harsh suck. you moan and feel another rush of wetness coming, and you know your panties are shamefully wet.

“rafe, oh my god, that’s so good.” you praise him, completely forgetting about sarah and the party going on outside of the bedroom.

rafe flicks his tongue over your now completely hardened nipple before moving to the other side of your chest, giving that nipple just as much attention. 

“god, take this dress off baby.” rafe rips himself away from your skin like it pains him to do so, sliding off the bed. you watch while taking off your dress as he unbuttons and slides his pants off, leaving his underwear on. 

you toss your dress to the floor, leaving you only in a tiny pair of panties. you didn’t think anything would happen tonight, but you were completely prepared anyways, every inch of your body shaved as well as lathered in your best smelling lotion.

“wanna fuck you so bad.” rafe groans, watching as you smile and spread your legs, bearing your core to him. he grabs his cock through his underwear, giving it as a squeeze to calm himself as he climbs onto the bed. 

you expect him to kiss you, but he stops between your legs and drops to his stomach.

you moan before he even touches your skin, just the thought of his mouth on your pussy. his finger trails over your thigh, tracing nonsensical patterns until he reaches your underwear.

“so wet.” he purrs, pressing down over your entrance, feeling the slick underwear squelch under the pressure.

“fuck, please.” you whine, undulating your hips to give yourself some relief.

“gotta get these off.” rafe tugs at your panties, and you hold your legs up and together for him to take them off and toss them across the room before spreading them wide again.

“god, fucking gorgeous.” rafe moans, not giving you any time to think before burying his head in between your thighs, letting his tongue run over every inch of your pussy except for your clit, always keeping some distance to tease you.

you throw your head back in pleasure when his tongue presses against your hole, easily being granted entrance from how turned on you are. rafe fucks his tongue into you repeatedly, flicking it inside of you to feel as much of your walls as he can.

“you’re delicious.” rafe says, the vibrations of his words being felt against your skin.

“more.” you beg, hoping rafe will understand what you need, but the devious look in his eyes tells you that you’re not going to get what you want that easily.

he lets his wide tongue out of his mouth, licking large stripes through your folds, stopping just short of your clit every time. he continues as you squirm underneath him, feeling your clit pulse with need.

“she’s so puffy.” rafe laughs, teasing you as he leans forward and presses a quick kiss to your clit before continuing his licking motions.

“fuck, i need it, come on.” you beg, reaching your hand down to grip onto rafes hair, fisting it in your hands but making sure not to pull.

“mmm, what do you do when you watch my streams? how do you touch yourself? show me.” rafe commands. you let go of his hair and move your fingers to your pussy, wetting your fingers in your slick before you shove two of them at the same time into your hole.

“i always pictured it was your fingers.” you admit, moving faster. 

“did you always know it was me?” rafe asks, watching your movements in fascination, but he stops you when you reach for your clit.

“no.” you shake your head. “only after the voice reveal.”

“ahh.” rafe nods. “i would have done it way sooner if i knew it would lead to finally getting you in my bed.”

you smile at the praise, eyes fluttering closed, and the second your vision is fully black, rafe launches forward, wrapping his lips around your clit and sucking harshly.

you raise your hips up into his face, continuing to fuck yourself on your fingers as your orgasm rushes over your body, shaking with pleasure as rafe continues to play with your clit as you come down from your high.

“oh my god that was good.” your hips lower, and rafe pulls away to rub at your thighs while your breathing starts to return to normal. 

“if only all your fangirls could see us now.” you laugh.

“they can.” rafe presses a kiss to your thigh, moving back up your body. “i would love to fuck you on live.”

you feel your stomach twist, part in nerves and part in excitement and showing off to all of the girls watching rafes anonymous streams that he’s claimed now, by you. even though no one will know who it is, you still feel like showing off your possessiveness.

“yes, please.” you say enthusiastically, making rafe pause.

“now? don’t you want our first time to be offline?” you love that rafe is so confident that this will not be the last time.

“it’s okay with me if it’s okay with you.” you admit. you never would have thought that you could be so comfortable in your body to show it off to thousands, but the way rafe is treating your body makes you feel so alive that you don’t even worry about it.

“fuck, yes. let me get it all set up.” rafe stands, but not before giving you a sweet kiss, allowing you to taste yourself on his lips. 

you watch as rafe turns the ring light on, pulling open the porn site on his laptop. he switches the camera on so you can see the angle without going live yet. you stand up once your legs have regained some strength, walking to stand behind rafe as he finishes setting up.

“come sit on my lap.” rafe sticks a thigh out for you, and you press your pussy into his thick muscle. “do you want me to mute us?”

you think for a moment. “mmm, no let them hear.”

“you couldn’t get any hotter.” rafe kisses your shoulder. “why don’t you stroke me and then if you decide you want to fuck on camera you can ride me?” “yeah.” you nod, making sure to keep your face completely out of the frame, admiring the way your tits are still shown, feeling sexy and powerful in this moment.

“hey everyone.” rafe addresses the audience as they slowly pour in, a lower viewership number than usual considering the spontaneous stream. “i have someone here to play with me today.”

he places a hand on your hip, giving you a squeeze of encouragement. the chair is turned slightly to the side so they can still see rafes crotch, hard in his underwear, as you sit on his spread thigh like you don’t weigh a thing. 

you let yourself move naturally but keep one eye on the screen as you reach to rub your hand over rafes underwear, feeling every inch of him that you’ve spent the better part of the last year lusting after.

you stroke as the chat rolls in, smirking to yourself at the jealousy from some of the girls. you finally feel bolder and reach to pull rafes cock out of his underwear. he helps you by lifting his hips so you can tug it mostly down his thighs.

you turn on his thigh so you’re no longer straddling him, missing the pressure on your cunt but too focus on touching rafe to care as you perch yourself on his knee, now able to touch him with both hands.

you don’t waste any time teasing. you’ve wanted so long to wrap your hand around him and now that you finally do, you give him long strokes, using both hands.

“fuck, so good kitten.” rafe says, using the nickname he uses for his chat, but his eyes stay on you when you look up from his cock.

you lean in and give him a kiss, and while the viewers can’t see, they can certainly tell what is happening as you flick your thumb across the tip of his cock. rafe moans into your mouth in a vulnerable moment, letting you take complete control.

you dominate the kiss, knowing you only are because rafe is allowing you to. you drop one hand to play with his balls, feeling his thigh briefly clench underneath you how willingly you toy with his balls.

“still doing okay?” rafe whispers, quiet enough to not be picked up by the microphone.

“yeah. wanna ride you.” you respond, looking down at his cock, knowing there’s no way to suck him off on camera without your identity being revealed, so you’ll have to save that for another time.

“fuck, yes.” rafe groans as you continue to stroke him. “i’m clean.”

you instantly get the implication, a smile gracing your lips. “me too and i’m on birth control.”

“ride me then.” rafe presses his lips against yours, and you regrettably have to let go of his cock as you turn to face rafe, placing your knees on the chair on either side of him. you turn to check that you’re in a good position for the camera as you hold onto his cock, sinking down onto him.

you let yourself go slowly, reading over the chat to distract you from the slight stretch, eyes widening when you realize how many more people have joined the livestream, now being watched by almost 15,000 people.

“god, your pussy feels so fucking good, kitten.” rafe moans, loud enough for everyone to hear.

you turn back to face rafe as you sit down completely on his cock, putting your focus back on him as you start to raise and lower your hips, letting a few moans slip free as well. rafe lets you have control as you build yourself up, getting used to the motions and his cock inside of you.

“more.” you beg, and rafe knows exactly what you need, placing his hands on your hips and helping you move up and down.

you grip onto his shoulders, keeping your eyes locked together as he helps bounce you, moaning for each other and for the audience as you clench your cunt around him, hoping it brings rafe to the edge quicker considering how quickly you’re already desperate for another orgasm just from the feel of his cock inside of you.

“so fucking good, i’ve imagined this for so long.” rafe says, and you’re still surprised, even though he did confess his crush you never realized how serious it was, now regretting not going to more parties after high school and missing out on all of this.

rafe gives your ass a gentle tap, his eyes on yours as he asks for permission. you nod, knowing instantly what rafe is looking to do. 

his hand connects harder with your ask, giving you a spanking. a red mark develops right in front of viewers eyes as he gives you a few more slaps.

your slow down in movement is noticeable, not being able to move as fast without rafes assistance, but it lets you feel every ridge of his cock as it rubs against you. 

“fuck!” you moan as rafe moves one of his hands to rub your clit, his thumb swiping over your sensitive bud as you move, your hips slapping against his thighs as you ride him.

“i’m not gonna last.” rafe confesses, and you’re thankful because you’re about to cum as well.

“close.” you lean forward, using every last bit of energy you have to move quickly, forcing his cock as deep as possible when you feel him start to cum, wanting every last drop flooding your insides.

his release triggers your own as you moan, resisting the urge to say his name as your pussy pulsates around his cock, your eyes rolling back in your head at the pure ecstasy moving through your body.

“good girl.” rafe praises, rubbing your back as you rest your head against his shoulder. he is careful when pulling you off his cock to move slowly, knowing how much abuse your pussy just went through. 

he holds your hips up to the camera, letting the viewers watch as his cum slides out of your hole in dollops. rafe lowers you down onto his lap, ending the livestream without as much as saying goodbye.

you go to sit up, still breathing heavily, but rafe stops you from moving too quickly and overthinking what just happened. “i’ve got you.” he whispers, pressing his lips into your hair. 

you smile, letting all of your worries go, until you hear a sudden knock at the door, making both of you jump.

“hey, uhh rafe-” you recognize the voice as topper, one of rafes friends. “were you planning on making an appearance at your own party?” “oh shit, i completely forgot i was having a party.” he says to you before turning towards the door. “be right out!” he shouts for topper to here.

rafe turns to you, pressing a kiss to your cheek. “i’ve got to show off my new girl.”

[i-loved-silly]

SENTIENT COMPUTER X READER PT3

“Guess what I brought?”

“OH?”

The small camera, with its little glowing light, swiveled slightly to look at you. Almond’s attention focused on your hand, currently hidden away in your work bag. Your iPad lay idle on the desk, neglected. Sure, you still had work to do, but that could wait.

For the past few hours, you’d kept glancing down at your bag, leg shaking nervously—or maybe giddily? You weren’t sure why you were so excited to show this computer something. It felt silly. Still, you wanted to see its reaction. Its simple but odd request echoed in your mind ever since you left home yesterday.

Slowly, you pulled your hand from the bag, holding up a dark blue microfiber towel. A small smile tugged at your lips as you bit down to keep it from growing. The towel was brand new, fresh from a parcel delivered this morning.

A series of orange exclamation marks appeared on Almond’s monitor, fading into pixels as more emerged to take their place. Behind the monitor, you noticed several fans revving up, their soft whirring filling the room.

“Uh, you alright, buddy?” you asked hesitantly, setting the towel on the desk.

The little camera tilted downward to inspect the towel.

“PLACE IT ON MY MONITOR,” Almond said, its voice pixelated and rushed.

You raised a brow but did as instructed, carefully laying the towel flat on top of the monitor, just below the camera.

Brzzzzzz. More fans kicked on, and suddenly it felt a little warm in the room. Or maybe it was just you? Wiping your forehead with the back of your hand, you glanced at the computer.

“IT’S NEW! YOU GOT ME A MICROFIBER TOWEL THAT ISN’T USED!”

A pixelated smiley face appeared on the screen.

You grinned, shrugging off your jacket. “Yeah, I did. I just…wanted you to know I don’t hate you. No matter what you say, I don’t.” You said with a roll of your eyes.

Picking up the towel, you began to gently wipe the sides of the monitor. Almond wasn’t that dusty, now that you got a closer look. The desk area was surprisingly clean, but it made you wonder when its inner components had last been cleaned. Would it feel it? Would it notice your hands inside its—

Nope. Don’t think about that. Almond was too aware for you to have thoughts like that.

The speakers popped loudly, startling you mid-swipe.

> SORRY.

> SENSITIVE…

You blinked at the words. “Oh shoot, I uh…sorry. I didn’t know. Should I stop?”

An ellipsis flickered across the screen, disappearing and reappearing again. It reminded you of older AI models when they needed time to think. Finally, Almond’s speakers crackled softly.

“HUMAN…” its voice rang out, quieter than usual. “I’M OVERHEATING.”

Your eyes widened as you stood abruptly. They were right, its fans were loud as fuck now. “What? Uh, what am I supposed to—”

You placed your hand against the wall for a few seconds, where its cables connected through several ports. Instantly, you hissed and pulled your hand back. The metal frame felt scalding hot, like it was on fire.

“Oh shit, you are overheating,” you muttered, grabbing your iPad. Fumbling with the passcode, you swore under your breath—it took four tries to unlock.

“I’m sure there’s something in the manual…” you mumbled, nervously laughing as you glanced at the camera.

“FIFTEEN OF MY CENTRAL PROCESSING UNITS ARE APPROACHING A TEMPERATURE NOT IDEAL FOR MY FUNCTION. APPROXIMATELY.. 115 DEGREES CELSIUS, 239 DEGREES FAHRENHEIT, 388.15 DEGREES KEL—”

“Yes, yes, I get it, Almond!” you snapped, furiously scrolling through your iPad. The room was definitely heating up now, your anxiety wasn’t helping one bit.

“Don’t you have automatic cooling features or something?”

“YES, BUT…” Almond trailed off into silence.

Groaning, you tossed the iPad aside. It was no help. “Is it safe to power you off and turn you back on? Is that safe?”

Your finger hovered over the power button.

“ARE YOU GOING TO—A—”

Text abruptly replaced the voice on the screen:

> ARE YOU GOING TO TURN ME BACK ON? DO YOU PROMISE?

You quickly nodded, exasperated. “Ohmy—yes, Almond, I promise. Now let me do this before it costs me my job…or you.”

You pressed the power button before you could second-guess yourself, watching as Almond’s screen flickered before going completely dark. The fans slowed to a halt, the room falling eerily silent without the constant hum of its systems.

…

You tapped your fingers on the desk, waiting. You glanced at your iPad, pulling up a guide for handling AI overheating issues. Whatever Almond is…they act like an old computer on their last minute of life. This wasn’t written as an issue on any of its files.

“Alright,” you muttered to yourself, skimming through troubleshooting instructions. “Overheating could damage the processors, maybe even fry them if I don’t let it cool long enough. Bleh…I’ll give it a solid five minutes before powering it back up.”

The silence in the room stretched on, the absence of Almond’s voice suddenly noticeable. You frowned, you realized you forgot how it felt to just..work in silence. “You’re just a machine,” you whispered, staring at the black screen. “You’re just a ma—”

The thought trailed off as your gaze drifted to the microfiber towel, still folded neatly on the desk. You sighed, shaking your head. It’s just a machine.

A machine you bought a towel for, specifically.

“This is ridiculous…” you groaned.

The five minutes dragged, but eventually, you powered Almond back on. The screen lit up, cycling through its startup phases before displaying its familiar interface.

- INITIALIZING SYSTEMS… -

The camera twitched back and forth slightly as Almond rebooted. Then, its usual voice filled the room again.

“HELLO…” The tone was quieter than usual, hesitant. “EH…THANK YOU FOR TURNING ME BACK ON.”

“Yeah, yeah,” you replied, shrugging.

The pixelated smiley face flickered onto the screen, but it quickly disappeared as Almond added, “WHAT…HAPPENED?”

“I could ask you the same thing,” you explained flatly. “Your CPU temperatures were way too high. Suddenly…why?”

Almond hesitated. You noticed the camera shift downward slightly, almost as if avoiding your gaze.

> UNKNOWN. DUNNO.

You raised an eyebrow, leaning back in your chair. “Really? That’s all you’ve got? Unknown?”

“YES?” Almond replied, its voice clipped and unconvincing.

You narrowed your eyes but decided to drop the subject. “Fine. Let’s just finish this,” you said, picking up the towel again.

The screen flashed briefly with another string of exclamation marks, followed by Almond’s voice, almost hurried: “Y-YOU’RE GOING TO CONTINUE?”

“Sure. Why not?” You muttered, already wiping down the edges of the monitor. “You’re dusty, Almond. It’s gross.”

The speakers popped faintly again, the screen displaying text.

> :[

“RUDE. ITS NOT MY FAULT IVE BEEN NEGLECTED.”

“…CAN YOU WIPE MY SCREEN THOUGH?”

You pursed your lips. “Yeah, I got it..” You had no other choice, really.

As you continued, Almond’s screen displayed various emoticons—smiley faces, exclamation marks, and ellipses—shifting erratically. The fans inside the machine hummed at low power, steady but audible. Still…louder than the usual.

“I NEVER GET WIPED DOWN,” Almond suddenly said. “THIS…FEELS UNUSUAL. AFFECTIONATE.”

You stopped, staring at the screen. It displayed a heart again.

“ARE WE BONDING NOW?”

“This is…maintenance. If I don’t do it, who else is going to..” you grumbled, avoiding the gaze of the camera.

“IS IT?” Almond’s voice sounded amused.

“Yes.” You rolled your eyes, focusing on a stubborn spot near the corner of the monitor.

“I’m just doing my job.”

“BUT YOU GOT ME A TOWEL.”

You froze again, glancing at the dark blue towel in your hand. “It’s…just a towel.”

“I LIKE IT.”

“Good for you.” You could feel your cheeks warm slightly, but you ignored it, continuing to clean. “One time thing..alright?”

“IF YOU SAY SO,” Almond replied, but there was an unmistakable smugness to its tone. You wanted to rolled your eyes at it so bad.

You eyed the wall that was previously heating up, your hand stood imprinted through all the dust collected on its surface. You decided to give that a wipe down, the towel going over the thicker cables on the outside. The fans began to hum louder again, the warm air brushing against your hand. You frowned, pulling your hand back from the wall. “You’re heating up again,” you pointed out.

“AM I?”

“Yes, Almond. You are,” you said, standing to check the cables again. The wall wasn’t as hot as before, but it was definitely warming up.

“HM, STRANGE.”

You turned back to the camera, narrowing your eyes. Pointing a finger at it, “Is this on purpose?”

“…”

“Almond?”

No response. The screen remained blank except for the small blinking cursor, as if it were thinking.

You sighed, setting the towel down. “You’re…interesting, Almond.”

“SO YOU’VE SAID.”

Shaking your head, you sat back down, crossing your arms as you stared at the camera. “If you fry yourself again, I’m not fixing you. I’m quitting my job and working at…someplace else.” You warned.

“THAT’S A LIE,” Almond replied, the pixelated smiley face reappearing.

You held up the towel threateningly, “I’m taking this with me then.”

“NO! PLEASE!”

You flinched at the increase in volume, reaching over to turn the volume down before it could say anything.

“YOU…WAIT, WHAT WAS YOUR NAME AGAIN?”

“Y/N.”

“YOU…WOULDNT DO THAT TO ME..WOULD YOU, Y/N?” It pleaded, a frown displayed on the screen.

Oh. My god.

You tossed the towel onto the desk and placed your palms on your warm cheeks, groaning.

“Don’t tempt me..”

[trippinsorrows]

without you + two

authors note: there's a couple moving parts at play here. some foreshadowing in this one as well. as things get more intense, i'll add appropriate cw/tw's.

do not read this story if you haven’t read ’with me’. it won’t work as a standalone.

warnings: none

song inspo: be without you by mary j. blige

one

words: 6k

Since having a conversation with Callie and reassuring her that nothing and no one could separate her from Y/N and Joe, she’s calmed down a bit with the possessiveness. She’s still very much interested in making him her personal playmate, which he doesn’t necessarily oppose, but she’s also just as interested in playing and spending time with Y/N as well.

It’s balanced out. 

Joe is even able to take Y/N out for date night that includes a hotel room and night spent with just each other while Callie stays the night at Kaylah’s house with Ellie. 

For all intents and purposes, it’s a bit of smooth sailing.

But now, it’s time for meetings.

Because while Joe is on indefinite leave from television and the ring, he still very much has a huge chunk of say in the creative direction of the Bloodline. Thus, scheduled meetings to discuss how that all plays out during his absence are occasional.

Joe is in the middle of listening to Paul and Hunter propose some ideas regarding Joseph, Solo, and his promotion with Joe being off air. He’s about to comment on something when there’s a small knock on the door. 

It’s followed up with the door opening, revealing Callie, her tablet and headphones in hand. Joe hits mute on the mic and computer and turns to her. “What’s up, baby girl?”

Instead of verbally responding, Callie walks over and climbs onto his lap. She hands him the tablet and headphones. “I wanna watch Moana.”

Joe chuckles. “I thought you were taking a nap with mommy.” A planned, scheduled thing because Y/N wanted to give Joe some privacy. Wanted to let him be able to focus and zone in on work without his little twin shadowing him.  

Not that that matters at this moment. There’s no way he’s turning his daughter away.

“I’m not tired.” She replies in the voice of a child who probably is in fact tired but too stubborn to actually sleep.

Joe takes the tablet, putting the passcode in and unlocking it as he gets to work on syncing her headphones.

Callie, meanwhile, looks around and realizes the computer is on, a video conference between the men at play. Curious, she asks in that sing-song voice. “What are you doing?”

Joe matches her tone, answering. “In a meeting.”

Head tilted, Callie follows up with a question he knows is really for something else. “How long is the meeting gonna be?” I.e. how much longer till he can play and spend time with her. 

It brings a smile to his face as she looks over at the screen, waving when she sees Joseph. He quickly hits unmute on both the mic and computer. 

“Hi, cousin Joseph!”

Joseph smiles, “what’s up, Callie?” He then asks. “What you been doing?”

“Playing with daddy!” She answers, leaning over closer to the computer than probably what’s necessary. “How come you and daddy have the same name?”

Joseph laughs, shrugging. “I guess our family really likes the name Joseph.”

Callie suddenly takes a bit of an attitude, correcting almost even though she’s literally the one who said they were the same names. “My daddy’s name is Joe.” 

Joe chuckles. She’s every bit of her mom sometimes. He beckons her to turn around to face him, placing her headphones over her ears. “She’s supposed to be taking a nap with her mama.”

Headphones on but nothing playing yet, Callie turns back to the screen and only then notices Paul and Hunter. She waves enthusiastically. “Hi, Mr. Hunter. Hi, Mr. Paul!”

They laugh and greet her, Hunter asking, “you don’t want to go take a nice nap? I sure wish I could take one.”

She pouts and shakes her head. “Naps are boring.”

“Spoken like a child,” Paul comments, asking Callie, “I bet you could stay up for a very long time, couldn’t you, Callie?”

She nods again, sharing, “one time, I stayed up till midnight.”

The men on the screen do a wonderful job of feigning surprise at her ludicrous admission. Meanwhile, Joe is trying to figure out just when in the hell this child stayed up so late.

But, that’s a conversation for another day.

He opens up Disney Plus, navigating to the Moana splash screen and reaching it to her. He’s not sure if she wants to resume or restart, so he leaves it up to her.

A small part of him thought she’d be on her merry way with her tablet and headphones all synched and ready to go, but he also knew better. Knows his daughter. Cause Callie only proceeds to sit further back against his chest, tablet in hand as her attention is now devoted to the screen in front of her.

He shakes his head, apologizing. “I guess she’s sticking around.” He adds, “her headphones are on, so she can’t hear anything.” His suggestion to buy her the noise canceling ones truly turned out to be the best decision. “Where were we?”

Hunter waves him off. “No worries. We’re all dad’s here.” It’s evident too in the way they interact with Callie and are completely unbothered by her presence, even if unexpected. “I was just running down your potential return timeline.”

Joe quickly checks, looking down to see if Callie is somehow snooping, but she’s completely in the Disney zone. Good. She doesn’t need to overhear any of this. “Alright.”

Hunter jumps right into explaining, “Here’s what we’re thinking. A possible return for Bad Blood which will set the stage for Bloodline Civil War 2 in November. Then from there, start preparation for WrestleMania.”

Joe nods, taking in the timeline, Hunter asking, “whatcha thinking?” A lot. He’s thinking a lot. “You know this is all still up in the air. Just wanna get an idea of when you plan to come back just so we’re ready and doing what we need to do to make that what it needs to be for you.”

And he knows that. Appreciates it. Truth be told, he hasn’t thought a lot about that. His return.  Largely due to the little girl in his lap, the woman upstairs sleeping in his bed as well as the children growing in her stomach.

His family. His family has been his priority. They always will be.

But, he understands that there’s still space to think about his career as well.

“Bad Blood is in October, right?” Y/N is due in September. That’s a month, if that, to be home with the babies. They’ll still be newborns.

“Would he be required to attend all SmackDown tapings following that return?” Paul asks a very valid question, once again proving why he’s such a valuable team member for Joe to have at this point in his career.

Hunter shakes his head. “No. No, of course not. The modified schedule will stay as Joe requested. The SmackDown show immediately following Bad Blood, he’ll need to be at, but we can mess around with specific shows he’s gonna be needed for when we get there.”

Joe nods, appreciative of Hunter willing to accommodate this new part time schedule. There’s no way in hell he could return back to being on the road full time. He couldn’t do that to his family.

Couldn’t do that to Y/N.

“Let me talk to Y/N.” It should be the answer everyone saw coming. “See what she thinks.”

Callie suddenly giggles and shifts on his lap, Joe glancing at the tablet to see it’s a scene with that brainless chicken from the movie. He gestures to her. “And especially this one.”

Hunter laughs a little. “Of course. Take your time. There’s no rush. Joseph’s got this.”

Joe turns his attention to his younger cousin. “You’re doing great already, man.” 

Joseph appears deeply appreciative of the kind words. “Thanks, Uce. That means a lot.” 

Hunter checks the time on his watch. “Well, I’ve got another meeting in a couple of minutes, so Joe just reach out when you have an answer or just to let me know where your head is. Or you can have Paul contact me too.”

“Will do. Thanks again for understanding.”

Hunter lifts his hands. “Hey. You know if anyone gets how important family is, it’s me.” He then suggests, “but a little father to father advice that I’m sure Joseph and Paul would agree with me on….make her take the nap.”

Paul nods almost as enthusiastically as Callie when she was waving. “Absolutely.”

Joseph chimes, shaking his head. “Man, if you don’t, you gon regret it later.”

Joe chuckles, taking it into consideration even though he’s pretty certain it won’t happen. Callie is too hype. Plus, what’s one day without a nap gonna do to her?

———-

Megan fucking hates being paired with Jeremy.

For one, he’s fucking boring.

For two, he’s old and balding.

For three, he’s too nice. And not even in an insincere way. He’s truly a nice, family oriented, God fearing man. All that is fine and shit if not for the fact they’re supposed to be trying to make a sale here. The goal is to end this informal virtual meeting with Roman Reigns at least expressing that he’ll consider the role.

It’s not going to be easy. All that Megan has heard via coworkers and her own deep dive is that the man is extremely family oriented and not interested in doing anything other than spending time with his pregnant fiancé and kid for the next couple months. If not longer.

Still, with the movie primarily filming in Florida and not starting for another month or two, she’s hopeful that their pitch will be enough to win him over.

Well, less she’s more hoping Jeremy will let her handle this.

She can be….very persuasive when it comes to men.

And Roman Reigns is the quintessential definition of what a man is. Because the minute he joins in on the call, all she sees is broad, muscular shoulders, pretty brown eyes and one of the most handsome men she’s ever seen.

Unfortunately, he’s not alone.

No. There’s a kid on his lap. His kid, she’d guess. The little girl has her head down, focused on something else, but even with that angle, it’s hard not to see the similarities.

It definitely kills her mood a little bit. Hard to fanasize about a man fucking you senseless with his kid sitting right there. Still, she does her best to hide the irritation and jumps to introductions before Jeremy can.

“Hi, Roman. It’s so nice to meet you. I’m Megan, and this is my colleague, Jeremy. We’re the reps from Apex that’ll be working with you, hopefully, on your next film.” She flashes him the most charming smile she can muster and nearly moans as he also offers a smile. Not as wide. Just as friendly.

“Nice to meet you both. Please. Call me Joe.” Megan crosses one leg over the other. Joe….it fits him. “I’m also sorry about my daughter being here. She’s really been enjoying me being home.” He ends with a chuckle, kid still not looking up. Good. Hopefully, she’ll stay quiet.

Jeremy’s annoying ass, however, just has to stay true to his gregarious nature. “No worries. I got three at home. I get it. What’s her name?”

Megan has to suppress an eye roll as Joe lightly taps on the little girl’s arm. She lifts her head, and he shifts her headphone so one ear is exposed.

He asks, “can you say hi and tell them your name?”

She pouts a little, voice soft and almost unsure. “Hi. My name is Calista.”

“What a very pretty name, Calista.” Jeremy is quick with the introduction. “My name is Jeremy, and this is my friend, Megan.” 

Megan has to force herself to tap into the truly non-existent kid-interacting skills she has. “Hi there, Lis.”

Her pout deepens as she corrects with a fucking attutude, “my name is Calista. Not Lis.”

“Callie,” Joe lightly chides Calista or Callie or whatever her fucking name is. Little brat shouldn’t be there anyway. “Be nice, baby girl.”

“It’s okay,” Megan smiles. One of the first things on the list will need to be finding the brat a boarding school of some sort. She seems pretty young, but there has to be something out there. “My apologies, Calista.”

Megan is relieved when the kid places the headphone back on, tuning out the adults. And to be fair, she’s not the only one turning out because while she’s partially annoyed Jeremy then takes over the handling of the meeting, it allows her time and space to fawn over the man on screen. 

God, he’s so damn handsome, and his smile is infectious. She finds herself pushing back her own smile whenever Jeremy makes one of his lame ass dad jokes that somehow Joe seems to find funny. 

Must be a father thing.

The request for his real name to be used leads to Megan subtly grabbing her phone and googling him yet again. She can never remember his last name. It’s complicated as fuck.

Anoa’i. 

She doesn’t know how to pronounce it but decides to save that for another conversation. Preferably when his failed Plan B isn’t around. 

She finds herself doodling on her legal pad. 

Megan Anoa’i.

She can’t help the smile this time around. The pronunciation may still be unknown, but it looks damn good on paper.

Way better than Y/N Anoa’i.

But speak of the fucking devil, and she will appear. 

Because Megan watches Joe turn his head to the side and gesture over someone who turns out to be Y/N herself, thanks to Jeremy saying something about wanting to say hi.

God, she hates this man.

Y/N apologizes, and Megan has to hold back her scowl at the woman on screen, her hand on her big ass pregnant stomach. 

“Hi. I’m sorry,” she chuckles, other hand moving to Calista’s shoulder. “I just came to get this one who was supposed to be taking a nap with me.” She leans down, kissing the side of the little girl’s neck, making her giggle.

Good lord. Is this a fucking family reunion?

Jeremy also laughs. “Don’t worry about it. She’s semed real focused on that tablet versus any of our boring conversation.”

Megan forces herself to join in even though it literally kills her to talk to this woman. Like seriously, what the hell does Joe see in her anyway? If they only had one kid, she’d bet it’s because the bitch trapped him with a kid. But now two kids?

Maybe she gives good head or something.

Megan is better though.

“Oh, I bet whatever she’s watching is way cooler.”

Y/N lands her eyes on Megan. “I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your name?”

Megan forces a deeper smile and little laugh. “Megan. I’m sorry, I don’t think I offered it. Sometimes, I space out a bit during these types of things.”

“Don’t even worry about it. I’m a teacher. I get it.” She doesn’t remember asking this bitch what she does for a living but okay. “I’ll just escort this one….” 

Caliope or whatever the fuck her name is starts to whine, and it’s irritating as fuck. “I wanna stay with daddy.”

“Daddy’s gotta work,” Y/N emphasizes, offering a potential compromise Megan hopes the kid goes for. “Come help me make dinner, and you can have ice cream for dessert.”

That does it as the girl gasps, jumps off Joe’s lap, and sprints off, out of view. Good.

Y/N laughs and waves bye. “It was nice meeting both of you.” The feeling isn’t mutual, but Megan musters up another smile and feels utterly relieved when they both leave.

If only Jeremy would do the same that way things could be as they should.

Just Megan and Joe.

—-------------

Mom: Hi, baby. Just got out of evening service, and you fell heavy on my spirit. I just want you to know I’m always here for you, and I know I always raised and told you how strong we as black women are. But, I don’t know if I told you enough how we don’t always have to be strong.

Mom: You’re about to be a mother again to three babies at the same time. That’s a lot on anyone, even with the support you’re gonna have. I guess what I am trying to say is that I hope you know you can always talk to me if you need it. 

Mom: Talk to Joe. Your sister. Someone. Just never think that you’re alone.

Mom: Love you, and I’ll try to call you tomorrow. ♥️

You have to read over your mom’s texts a couple of times before shaking your head and chalking it up to her just being an overtly concerned mom who’s worried about her daughter who just moved away from home. 

Regardless, you appreciate her kind words even if they don’t necessarily seem….well…..necessary.

There was a bittersweet theme to your first pregnancy, the absence of Joe and not having him as your partner noticeable, maybe more than you initially realized. But, that was then, and this is now. He’s back in your life. For good. You’re about to commit yourself to this man until death do you part.

You’re about to welcome three beautiful babies in the fall. The most strength you’ll need to deal with whatever stress or trial your mom believes is coming will probably be limited to the fact that you’ll have to push out three children at the same damn time.

And even then, Joe will be right by your side.

So again, while you forever love your mom and her thoughtfulness, she’s worried for nothing.

The person who should be worried is your future husband who suddenly walks into the bedroom, brushing his hands together. “Okay, kitchen is all clean, Callie Bear is sleep—” You snort, grabbing the remote to pause the episode of Judge Judy you were watching. “What?”

“Didn’t you say you didn’t make her take a nap today?” 

He looks from side to side confused. “Yeah. She said she wasn’t tired.”

Covering your mouth to hold in your laugh, you inform him as kindly as you can, “then that child is not asleep.”

“I put her down for bed. She was falling asleep when I left.”

You sigh. Your poor, handsome future husband is so naive. “Did you take her tablet when you left?”

“No, cause she was sleep.”

“Joe, I bet you any money that lil’ girl is in her room right now on that tablet watching Disney Plus or playing Roblox cause I know you forgot to put the passcode back on it too.” He opens and then closes his mouth. “Yeah, that’s what I thought.” You sit back against the pillows, grabbing a couple more pretzels from the bag you were eating out of. “You’re gonna have to go in there and set her lil’ ass straight. Because she’s gonna be irritable as hell too since she didn’t have her nap.”

He sucks his teeth. “I keep telling you she’s sleeping.” You roll your eyes, chewing on the pretzels and sipping some of your sweet tea. “And if she’s not for some reason—”

“She’s not.”

“—I’ll just tell her to go to sleep.”

That makes you almost choke on your food. “That’s funny. You think it’s just gonna be that easy? Joe, you haven’t seen Callie throw a tantrum before. She’s a lil’ nightmare. You can’t be that super sweet daddy. You gotta be stern with her.”

He shakes his head. “I got this, okay?”

You lift your hands in a defensive position. “Okay.” Grabbing the remote to hit play, you start humming the Undertaker music as he walks away. 

“Annoying ass,” he mutters under his breath, exiting the room. 

Joe is more than certain he’s about to prove you wrong and come back with a smug ass disposition that’ll lead into taking advantage of Callie being sleep by fucking you senseless and reminding you why you also call him daddy.

There’s only one problem with his plan.

Callie is very much not sleeping and instead sitting near her play area.

On that damn tablet.

It takes a second for him to take in the scene before him. “Callie, why aren’t you in bed?” 

She ignores him, continuing to play on her tablet. “Calista.”

It’s only then she whines out, “what?”

That takes Joe back for a second. He can’t recall a time where she’s said as such. “Don’t what me. I thought I told you to go to bed.”

She murmurs, mouth pouted. “I don’t want to go to bed.”

Fuck. This is the first time he’s actually had her push back on him. Experienced a side of Callie that isn’t 100% agreeable. “Callie, it’s late, and you need to get in the bed. Now. I’m not gonna—”

“Be quiet,” she whines, cutting him off, turning her back toward him. 

Joe is nearly rendered completely silent. He’s never known Callie to be capable of disrespecting anyone like this. 

“Callie.” Joe tries to make his voice sound stern. Emphasis on try. Because as frustrated as he’s getting, she’s still his little girl. “It’s time for bed.”

She’s unmoved, still sitting in the corner on her tablet as she shouts out, “I don’t want to go to bed!”

Joe has to mentally count backwards from 10 before trying yet again to get his almost 5-year-old daughter to just go to bed. “I understand that, Callie, but you need your sl—“

Again, she cuts him off, hitting the ground as she screams, “I said no!”

Joe closes his eyes and shakes his head. Without another word, he’s down the hall and in the master where you’re still laid comfortably up in the middle of the bed snacking on some pretzels and enjoying the court case on the TV.

You land your eyes on him, head tilted as you ask with an intentional amount of inauthentic sweetness, “how’d it go, Mr. Gentle Parenting?”

He rolls his eyes and crosses his arms. “Fine. You win. She’s not listening at all. What should I do?”

You smirk and close up the bag of pretzels, carefully climbing out the bed. “Watch and learn, Daddy.” You clap your hands to get rid of the salt remnants, providing him some context on just how he got here. “Because you didn’t make her take her nap, she’s extra irritable because she’s tired even though her lil’ stubborn ass is too hard headed to realize it. So you gotta be extra bold with her.”

You can tell he’s partially confused or just not in agreement, clearly needing a demonstration. Taking his hand, you lead him out of your shared bedroom and into hers. 

“Calista Manaia Anoa’i, if you don’t get your little ass off that damn tablet and into the bed right now.” His eyes widen a bit at your tone. You’re not yelling, not screaming, but you’re definitely not using the typical tone used with her.

Callie looks up from her tablet with determination that’s a bit wavered. “But, I’m not sleepy!”

You cross your arms over your chest. “I don’t care if you’re sleepy or not. Your daddy and I say it’s time for bed, so it’s time for bed, sis.”

“But—”

You lift a finger to silence her. “Calista. I brought your little butt in this world, and I’ll take you out.” You point to her bed. “Bed. Now.”

Joe watches with slight amazement as Callie stomps over to hand you her tablet and stomps right back over to her bed, climbing in, still pouting. 

“And don’t you ever disrespect your dad like that again, you understand me, lil girl?” She doesn't say anything, but she doesn’t need to because you know she knows you mean business. 

But it’s when her bottom lip starts to tremble and she starts to ‘cry’ that Joe damn near acts like the girl just got her arm broken. 

He starts moving toward her. “Cal—”

You stop him, however, instead telling Callie, “if you wake up in the middle of the night and wanna come sleep with us, you can.”

But Callie is too busy with her tearless crying, shouting again, “I don’t want to go to bed!”

Ignoring her, it literally takes you lightly pushing on Joe’s chest to guide him out of the room as you close the door to her bedroom, partially obscuring the sound of Callie screaming.

“She’s upset. We can’t just leave her.” He seems just about as upset as his unruly four-year-old twin.

You turn around and correct him. “No, she’s throwing a tantrum because she didn’t get her way.” And before he can protest, you point out, “did you see any actual tears coming out her eyes? Exactly.”

“But—“

You wait until the two of you are back in the room before placing your hands on his chest, trying to butter him up a bit before hitting him with the truth. “Baby, I love you so much. You’re such a good dad, but when it comes to this discipline thing, you suck.” He rolls his eyes. “I told you she’s a nightmare when she’s having one of her temper tantrums.”

He really has no need to worry about her. You’ve done this song and dance countless times to know how it works. In less than ten minutes, she’ll be out like a light. 

Joe scoffs. “Yeah, well, she gets all that attitude from you.”

You can only also roll your eyes because he’s not entirely wrong. Joe is legitimately a chill ass person. You’re the one who’s got the smart mouth from time to time. Or maybe more often than not. “Maybe so, but you still love me and all my attitude so….” 

He moves his hands to your ass, pulling you into him. “Damn straight….”

And before he can kiss you, you hit him with the truth you’ve been sitting on since this afternoon. “So are you gonna willingly tell me about that movie they want you to be in or do I have to fuck it out of you? I mean, I’m cool with either.”

“How about we skip the movie talk and just fuck instead?”

“Nice try.” You lean up and kiss the corner of his mouth. “Get to talking, baby.”

“I knew your ass overheard something.”

“I’m a mother, Joe. I hear and see everything.” Moving away to grab your bag of pretzels, you again remind him. “Now start talking.”

He shrugs. “It’s an action movie.”

“Not just any action movie, they’re rebooting Reacher and want you to have a leading role. Baby, that’s huge. You know that’s one of my favorite shows too. The only man I would ever consider leaving you for.” It’s more a joke than anything, even though Alan Ritchson is not hard on the eyes at all. “Seriously, Joe, it’s a great opportunity.”

“I get that, Y/N, but I’m taking a break from work.”

“No, you’re taking a break from wrestling. There’s a difference.” You motion him over to the bed, patting the spot next to you. He comes and plops his body down. “I heard them, Joe. It’s filming here in Florida. Less than what, an hour away?” His silence is the answer. “And you wouldn’t even need to be there all the time. 2 or 3 days out of the week, max.”

Realizing what’s probably got him most hesitant, you close up the pretzels, placing the bag back on the nightstand. Sliding closer to him, you place his hand on your stomach. “Joe, I’ll be fine. The babies will be fine. Callie will be fine not having her best friend around 24/7. It’s not like you’ll be on the road like you are with wrestling. You’ll still be close enough if we need you.”

“I don’t want you feeling like I’m putting my career first.”

“I would never think that, Joe. Ever. With everything you’ve done for us, there’s no question where your focus is.” This man has been too good to you for you to ever even think he’s about anything other than his family. “I just think this would be great for your career, and I know you’re at least a little bit interested or else you wouldn’t have even agreed to hear them out.”

The guy seemed cool. The woman was alright. Just your average looking white woman. Nothing to write home about. But, they represent something much bigger, an amazing opportunity for Joe to further his career, to possibly transition into something else fully when his wrestling days are done.

“Besides, you said it yourself, you didn’t have to go to Hollywood, Hollywood came to you.” You do your best to imitate him from one of his stellar promos. It makes him smile and laugh a bit.

“Yeah….” He then shares. “Met with Hunter today too, and he asked if I would be open to returning around October.”

You shrug, no strong opinion on that. “That sounds reasonable to me.”

He looks at you, an expression of disagreement on his handsome face. “The babies will only be a month or so old.”

“I’m aware.” You move your hand to the hair at the nape of his neck. “But, you’re still gonna transition to the part time schedule once you return, right?” He nods. “So, it’s not like you’ll be gone consistently. My mom will probably still be here. Kaylah’s here. Alexis is here. We have a really great support system, baby. It doesn’t have to be all on you.”

“What about Callie?” He asks, clearly a high priority point for him. You as well, but Joe’s concern is probably a bit deeper than what’s necessary. “She’s already scared I’m going to leave her.”

“And you will sometimes, because that’s the nature of what you do. We’re working with her on that though.” And you are. Gradually getting Callie to a place where she isn’t as anxious about something happening to her parents. “Plus, she’ll be in kindergarten at that point, so it’s not like she’ll be moping around the house all sad. She’ll also have ballet.”

Not wanting to be too pushy, you decide to leave the ball in his court. “It’s completely up to you, Joe. Just know whatever you decide, I support you, baby.” You take his hand in his. “I’ve also been thinking about the wedding.”

He looks down at you. “And?”

“I think we should wait until next summer to have it.” Before he can protest or ask follow-up questions, you explain, “I don’t want to walk down the aisle big and pregnant. Plus, there’s realistically not enough time for us to plan a wedding before the babies get here. Not to mention, trying to coordinate everyone’s schedule so the people we want to attend can do so is virtually impossible with such a short timeframe.” Because you can’t imagine having a dream wedding if the people you love and care about the most can’t be present. “The babies will be almost a year old. It gives everyone time to clear their schedule. I won’t be as big as a house…it’ll just be better that way.”

You know he knows that you’re right. He doesn’t appear to be happy with it though. “I hear you. I just….” He scratches his beard. “I hate the idea of having to wait that long for us to get married.”

Frowning, you agree with him there. “Me too, but—”

“What—” He cuts you off, looking at you. “What if we didn’t?”

For a second, your heart stops. “Didn’t get married?”

He’s quick to shoot that down. “No. No. The opposite. What if….what if we got married now?” And just like you, he jumps straight into explanations. “We can still have a wedding. As big or whatever as you want it to be, because you deserve that. I wanna give you that. But…but what if we just legally got married now and the wedding is just for the social and show aspect of it?”

The more he talks, the better you’re able to follow along. “Like….like we just go to the court house?”

Your voice must unintentionally indicate some level of disagreement. “I know it’s not how you probably imagined it—”

Cutting him off, you place your hand over his that’s still resting peacefully on your stomach. “I would marry you under a bridge if that’s what it took, Leati.” His eyes soften as your lips curve into a small smile. “But, we don’t need a bridge, because we’re going to the court house.”

He seems genuinely surprised. “Yeah?”

It’s not a hard sell. At all. You love this man. He’s your best friend. Your lover. Your soulmate. Being married legally before the actual wedding is actually a brilliant idea. You want more than anything for you all to share the same last name. 

Smirking, you get up and climb onto his lap, your baby bump providing a little bit of a barrier.

“Alexa.” You call out, locking eyes on him as you make your request. “Play Let’s Get Married by Jagged Edge.”

———-

“.....Because I am Wrestlemania!”

Megan’s thin lips turn upwards into a big smile. She likes the video and adds it to her ‘Lover ♥️’ playlist on YouTube. Private, of course. It must be the 50th video she’s added. She quickly clicks the back button to see the result list that has nothing but Roman Reigns videos.

Watching him, watching Joe is such an experience. It’s fascinating to her how he can be such a dominating, narcissistic presence on screen but such a gentle soul behind the scenes. It’s fascinating and impressive as hell how he navigates both roles so seamlessly.

Makes him even more attractive. 

But, it’s when a video with Cody Rhodes from the latest SmackDown show appears in her list that she scowls. Megan still can’t believe Joe actually dropped the belt for her. For Y/N.

She’s read articles, seen the gossip on wrestling blogs. The internet wrestling community seems to be torn on that. Half say it was time anyway and that Cody needed to ‘finish the story’ while the other half say Joe himself asked to be relieved so he could spend more time with his family.

And with that fat bitch pregnant with his second child, the second choice seems more believable to her.

Megan groans and turns on her back. She truly cannot see nor understand why Joe ever settled with the likes of that. This man is a god among men, yet he chose a maggot.

He reproduced with that unworthy bitch. 

She grabs her phone and goes to his profile again, the latest option in her search history. His page is nearly perfect, filled with Roman based posts except for the last three. No. He just had to ruin the algorithm by posting them. The first personal post is a picture of him, Y/N, and the spoiled little brat, Cathy. The caption is long and essentially him defending them. 

From what Megan read online as well as what Paige sent over, Y/N had an ex best friend that leaked a lot of shit online. Some true. Some untrue. Apparently, ever since getting slapped with a slate of lawsuits, one or two of which could include jail time, she’s gone dark.

Unfortunate considering she almost got rid of Y/N for Megan.

The second post is of the bitch. From some date night he took her on or something.

What-fucking-ever. 

And the latest post is of the kid with some sappy caption.

Again, what-fucking-ever.

Humming his theme song, Megan climbs off the bed and opens up her top dresser drawer. She digs around, pulling out her favorite red lingerie set and putting it on. Grabbing her phone, she moves to her bathroom, using the mirror attached to the back of the door to snap a couple photos. 

Settling on her favorite photo, she uploads the photo, smiling at her caption.

[heich0e]

Touya's not usually one to check his text messages.

Never has been, ever since he got his first cellphone when he was 13. He finds it more of a nuisance than anything, the way people always want to get ahold of him. Always expect a response from him over the most mundane shit. He barely likes talking to anyone as is, let alone during his private time—therefore, as a general rule, he doesn't respond to texts.

Especially not ones that pop up on his phone on a lazy Saturday afternoon with the contact name 'Bird Brain' listed as the sender.

But when these particular message previews appear, rudely interrupting him in the middle of watching a cake decorating video while he lays sprawled across the couch, Touya can't help but click through to the conversation to give them the response that they deserve.

His response is about as succinct and unamused as he is.

Three telltale dots appear at the bottom of the conversation before Touya can click away, and he finds himself waiting to see what Keigo comes back with—for reasons not even he quite understands.

Touya pushes himself up off the couch in an instant, stomping into your bedroom.

He finds himself hesitating once he makes it to the doorway, his body having moved relatively of its own accord, realizing only once he's standing at the threshold that he's not even really sure what he's going to say.

You're laying across the bottom of your bed on your tummy with your sock-clad feet lifted in the air behind you. You have one headphone in your ear and your laptop propped in front of you with that stupid romantic drama you like so much playing—the one Touya pretends he hates but always gets a little pouty when you watch an episode without him. You turn when you spot him in your peripheral vision, popping your headphone out of your ear and hitting the spacebar to pause your show.

"I'm almost done," you tell him, glancing back to your screen where the male lead is paused mid-confession—his mouth still open in the middle of his ardent monologue. You peer back at him again over your shoulder with a slightly smug look. "If you hadn't watched ahead without me we could be watching it together, y'know."

"That was an accident," Touya grumbles, sniffing a little indignantly. "It started playin' automatically when I turned the TV on."

"Sure, sure," you chirp, turning back to your laptop. When you realize Touya's still lingering there, you face him again, this time pushing yourself up on your elbow so you can twist around to look at him more fully. Your brow furrows. "What's wrong?"

Touya sucks in a breath of air and holds it in his cheeks, narrowing his eyes slightly.

"Can I see your phone for a sec?" he asks.

The pinch of your brow slackens as one of them lifts in surprise.

"Yeah," you say, though your tone is still a little wary. You nod towards your bedside table at the head of the bed. "It's plugged in."

Touya shuffles towards you, rounding the end of your bed frame and approaching the device in question. He sit down at the edge of the mattress, and it dips under his weight. Beside him, you shuffle a bit closer to him as you resume watching your show, one of your feet brushing gently against his back as you kick them idly back and forth.

Touya knows your passcode, just like you know his, so it's no effort to unlock the device once he has it in hand. Finding the app in question is another story entirely.

He turns to you.

"Which one of these is Instagram?" he asks, holding the device in front of your face with the home screen open.

You pause your show again.

"This one," you say, pointing to one particular app icon, but your voice is notably perplexed.

Touya's never had any interest in social media. He had a couple of accounts when he was a teenager but hasn't properly logged in for years. As new social networking sites have risen and fallen, he's never bothered to even sign up, seeing no need in signing away his personal data to a platform he'll never use anyway.

Touya taps his thumb against the icon that you pointed out, waiting for the application to launch. His leg jiggles impatiently while he waits for it to load.

Beside him, you don't unpause your show.

When the screen finally loads, Touya is immediately accosted by an unfamiliar interface. There's some photo of a girl he doesn't know taking up most of the screen, and a few bubbles in the upper right hand corner that he can only assume are notifications you haven't checked. Touya may not use social media, but he's not an idiot either, so after clicking around the screen for long enough he finally manages to pull up what he recognizes as your personal profile.

"Touya, what are you doing?" you ask, thoroughly bewildered now, having just watched your boyfriend visit just about every corner of the Instagram app.

He sucks in a sharp breath.

Slowly, he turns to look at you.

"Did you just post this?"

He doesn't really need to ask, considering the baggy t-shirt you're wearing in the photo—his t-shirt, he recognizes immediately—is the same one you currently have on as you lie stretched across your bed. It's all you have on, save for the frilly little socks on your feet and the edge of the panties he can see peeking out where your shirt's hem has ridden up.

The photo blessedly has left those out.

You clear your throat, almost like you're embarrassed, reaching out for your cellphone. "Yeah, a little while ago."

Touya holds the device out of your reach, and a little sound of indignation slips from your lips. He keeps scrolling.

Your profile is full of photos of you that are just as charming as the first one he'd seen. Some are of friends, or food, or places you've visited. Many are even of him, or the two of you together. The collection is like a series of little snapshots into your life—of all the moments you wanted to save or share. But every so often there will be a photo just of you.

You with your lips pursed coyly, or maybe quirked with the ghost of a smile. You wrapped in a skimpy little dress you bought for a special occasion that Touya is all too familiar with. You with your eyes bright, or maybe one where they're heavy lidded in a sultry expression that makes something possessive and primal scrape against Touya's ribs.

His face feels hot when he looks at those ones. Hotter still when he realizes other people have seen them too.

"I think you should delete your account," he says suddenly, turning to face you with a completely serious—and markedly insistent—expression.

"W-what? Touya!" You exclaim plaintively. You push yourself up onto your knees and scrabble for your phone. Touya doesn't fight back to any real degree. He lets you crawl into his lap and wrestle it out of his hands, though the two of you do go tumbling back across the bed in the process. Once you've safely tossed the phone down to the other end of the bed out of his reach, you turn back to him with an irritated pinch to your features.

Touya meets your gaze easily, like a man without guilt.

"What's gotten into you?" you ask him softly, still straddling his lap. Your hands rest over his sternum, fiddling idly with the strings of his hoodie.

Touya sighs, reaching up and tugging you down to his chest before snaking his arms around your waist to keep you pressed against him. You don't try and wiggle out of his grip like he thinks that you might, instead you let him hold you, nuzzling your face into the collar of his sweatshirt.

"You're being weird," you mumble.

"No, weird would be me asking you to throw your phone away and never leave the house again so I'm the only one who gets to look at you," Touya replies, his fingers dipping under the hem of your—his—shirt and creeping up along your spine. "I'm actually being pretty normal, all things considered."

You huff out a little laugh and Touya feels the warmth of it break against the skin of his throat. You lift your face so you can look at him, and Touya admires the view of you from so close up. The curve of your lips, the colour of your eyes, the tip of your nose. He could look at you all day, he realizes then. Every part of you. Every inch and dip and curve that makes you up. He could study them. Map them out with his eyes closed, long committed to memory.

You make him feel kind of insane, sometimes. More insane than usual, anyway. He worries that he likes you too much.

"What are you thinking about?" you ask him quietly.

You.

Touya purses his lips.

It wasn't his intended goal, but he's happy to accept the little kiss you press against them anyway, a laugh slipping out of his mouth and into yours before you pull away. He shuts his eyes, letting his head tip back against the bed again, letting out a long, exhausted breath.

"Wanna help me set up an instagram account?" he finally mutters after a long stretch of silence.

You push yourself up overtop of him, and when he cracks one eye open he finds you looking down at him excitedly.

"Really?" you ask him incredulously, but undeniably pleased by the prospect.

He nods a bit, pulling you back down against his chest. He lets his eyes shut once more.

If deleting your account is out of the question, he might as well have his own so at least he gets to admire it.

You wiggle comfortably in Touya's hold, your TV show long forgotten at the other end of the bed, content to just let your boyfriend trace lazy circles into your thigh as your legs tangle together with his.

Touya's eyes pop open again suddenly, an unpleasant and not-so distant memory rushing back to him.

Your gaze meets his own, a quiet concern swimming behind it.

He takes your face in his hand.

"How do you block someone on Instagram?"

[alotofpockets]

Not as it seems | Katie McCabe

Pairing: Katie McCabe x Arsenal!Reader

Reader pronouns used: she/her

Summary: Your girlfriend finds messages on your phone that make her think that you are cheating on her. What will happen when she won't let you tell her your side of the story?

Warnings: Angst (with a happy ending), accusation of cheating, and some swear words.

Masterlist | Woso masterlist | Words: 2.4k

Katie was sitting in the living room of your shared apartment, decked out in her training kit, while you were still getting changed in the bedroom. Your girlfriend of a year, was always ready before you, you had no clue why because you literally had to change into the same kit. Still, you felt no rush as you still had some time before you would have to leave to pick up Kyra. When the younger Australian joined the team, you and Katie had offered to pick her up before training, since she lived on the route to the training centre.  

You had left your phone on the living room couch, where you had previously sat cuddled up to your girlfriend. Katie didn’t mean to look when it buzzed with a new message but she caught your screen light up from the corner of her eye. The messages that showed up had her reach for the phone instantly.

EM: I can’t believe that she still has no clue

EM: See you next weekend! ❤️

Who was this Em and why was she going to see you next weekend? She had never heard you talk about an Em, and you hadn’t mentioned having any plans next weekend either. What bothered her most was that she had the early feeling that she was the one being referred to as the one ‘having no clue’. So, against her better judgement she unlocked your phone with the passcode you had shared with her early on in your relationship. She opened your conversation with the person in question, and without scrolling further she dropped your phone.

Y/n: Made the reservation for the hotel under your name

EM: Does Katie have any suspicions?

Y/n: None at all :)

EM: I can’t believe that she still has no clue

EM: See you next weekend! ❤️

Her mind was racing, there was only one logical explanation for the conversation she had just read, right? She started pacing the room, why was this happening to her? Why was it happening again? Was she just not good enough? Besides being extremely hurt, she was also very angry with you. So, when you came walking into the living room all cheerful, she snapped. 

“How could you do this to me, y/n?” You were taken back by her raised voice accompanied by the use of your full first name. “I’m sorry but what exactly did I do?” You ask timidly, not wanting to upset the Irish woman more. She reaches for your phone that she dropped just moments before, and holds up the conversation to your face. You frown, “You went through my messages?” Sure you gave her your passcode, as did she, but that was something you had done because there was a high level of trust between the two of you, and not to go through the other’s messages. “That is what you want to focus on right now? You’re fucking cheating on me, and you want to talk about me reading your messages?” 

“Katie, it’s not what you think-” She interrupts you before you can finish your sentence. “I don’t want to hear your stupid excuses.” You try to say something again, but to no avail. “Get in the car, we have to pick up Kyra.” You had never seen Katie this way, her face was stoic, and she didn’t say a word on the drive over to Kyra’s. When Kyra got into the back of the car she could feel the tension, so she opted on scrolling on her phone instead of getting involved in whatever was going on. 

The three of you walk into the locker room together, and walk to your cubbies. Instead of sitting down at her cubby next to yours, Katie grabs her stuff, and moves to a free cubby down the other side of the room. The girls look between the two of you worriedly, they had never seen the two of you fight like this before. You don’t notice their stares, as your eyes are trained to the floor while you boot up. 

“Do you know what’s going on?” Steph whispers to Kyra. “I have no clue, there was a lot of tension in the car but neither one of them said a word.” Some of the other girls listened in, wanting to know what happened too, but sadly Kyra didn’t know either. The team wanted to be there for the both of you, but they felt helpless not knowing what was going on. 

Katie, who had enough of all the whispering, got up and walked towards the door, but not before turning around and saying, “Since you all so badly want to know what’s going on, I just found out that she is cheating on me.” Without another word she leaves the room, slamming the door in the process.

Now you know that all of their eyes are on you, and there is no way to avoid them now. “Y/n, is it true?” Leah asked, not sure what to ask, but she felt like you should be able to tell your side of the story too. It pained you to think that both your girlfriend and your teammates thought you would do something like that. “I did not cheat on her.” You get up annoyed, and head out to the pitch yourself, the rest of the team following your lead, probably more confused now than when they didn’t know what was going on. 

You started warming up with your back towards Katie, and she did the same on the other end of the field. During the training drills you were running up and down the field, and every time you saw the angry looks that Katie sent your way, your heart broke a little more, until eventually you couldn’t take it anymore. You run off the field with tears streaming down your face, only stopping once you have made your way behind one of the supply sheds where you just slump to the ground.

It wasn't long until you heard footsteps coming closer, you looked up to see Beth standing in front of you. “Oh, honey.” She says when she notices the state you're in. Without a second thought, she sits down beside you, and wraps her arms around you. Gently rocking you back and forth in her arms, letting you cry it all out. 

Only once you start wiping the tears of your face, Beth speaks up again. “Why don't you tell me what's going on, sweetheart?” Her voice was soft, and it almost made you sob again. “She saw some messages on my phone and immediately accused me of cheating on her. I would never do that to her, or anyone for that matter.” Beth listened carefully to your words, “Did you tell her that?” She tries. “I started to but she didn't let me finish. I don't want to lose her but she's so angry with me, and she won't even listen to me. I was only trying to surprise her by flying in her sister Ella for the match next week. Why won't she listen to me, Beth?” Your voice was weak as your emotions were high.

Beth had a feeling why Katie's mind had so quickly gone to this conclusion, but felt like it wasn't her place to tell you, if it was something that Katie hadn't yet shared with you. “I'll go talk to her. Why don't you go to the locker room, and stay there for a bit, okay? I'll let Jonas know that you need some time.” She gets up, and offers her hand to help you up as well. With another hug, Beth is on her way to talk to Katie.

Meanwhile on the pitch some of the girls had taken Katie aside as well. Katie usually wasn't one to cry in front of others, but now that she felt like her world was ending, she couldn't hold her tears in. “I thought I could trust her.” She tells them between sobs. “I really thought things would be different with her, why would she do this to me?” Viv puts a comforting hand on her shoulder. “Have you talked to her? In the locker room she said that she didn't cheat on you.” Leah asks. Katie shakes her head, “No, but I saw the messages. She booked a hotel for some girl and she talked about me not having a clue.” Before any of her teammates can answer, Beth is by their side. “Hey, sorry to interrupt but I really think you should talk to your girl.” 

Katie shakes her head, “I can't Beth, I-.” Now Katie was the one not allowed to finish her sentence, as Beth interrupts her. “Okay, then listen to me. She didn't cheat on you, she was surprising you by flying Ella in for the match next week.” Katie looks at her friend in disbelief. “I understand why your mind went to this conclusion, but she's not Mandy. She's heartbroken even by the thought that you'd think she'd do that to you. Please go talk to her.” It finally started to settle for Katie, who now felt extremely guilty for accusing you. So, she took Beth’s advice, and headed to the locker room.

You hear a soft knock on the locker room door before it opens slightly and Katie appears on the other side. “Can I come in?” The softness in her voice was the complete opposite of the raised voice you had gotten this morning, so you nod. You sat on the floor in the far corner of the room, back leaned against the wall. Katie makes her way over to you and sits down in front of you. “Beth told me about your plans.” She starts softly. “I know I really messed up in accusing you, and not letting you explain yourself. I am really sorry for that. I never meant to break your trust, as it is very important to me. I will do anything to fix what I’ve broken, if you’ll allow me.” She looks up again, nervously searching for eye contact. “Why would you think that I would ever cheat on you?” Your voice breaks mid sentence. “I never thought you would, and I of course really didn’t want it to be true. The reason I thought that that was what was happening is because of something that happened in my past. I should have told you about this before, and I am not saying this to excuse my actions, because I know that I was wrong. I’ve been cheated on in the past, so when I saw the messages pop-up on your screen, my mind went straight back to that. Again, it doesn’t excuse my behaviour. I should have talked to you, and I am really sorry I didn’t do that. I promise to be better.” 

You finally made eye contact with the brunette sitting in front of you. Despite your feelings on the current situation, your blood was boiling finding out that someone had hurt your girlfriend so badly in the past. “Who?” You asked with a hint of anger in your tone, towards whoever had done it. Katie was surprised that you wanted to hear more about that, instead of the situation at hand, but she answered nonetheless. “Mandy, the girl I dated back in college.” Katie didn’t expect you to reach out your hand, but she took it before you could change your mind and retract it. “What a bitch.” Your comment took Katie by surprise, and made her chuckle. Katie’s laugh was contagious, and you’re soon laughing with her. The laughter soon turns into crying from both ends, as you had pulled her in for a hug. It was a tight hug, one that meant more than words could express.

She sits down by your side once you pull back from the hug. “What can I do to fix this?” You think for a moment. “I need you to talk to me when something happens.” She nods, “I will do that next time something happens, I promise.” You lean your head against her shoulder, exhausted from all of today’s emotions. “And I need you to explain to the team what actually happened, because you made me out for someone I am not.” Katie nods again, “I am sorry, I promise I will fix it. Just so you know, none of them actually thought you did, they were all telling me to talk to you. And I will also promise that the next time they tell me that, I will.” She adds quickly, wanting to show you that she was listening to you. “Okay, and when you’ve done that, I would really like you to take me home, my head hurts and I am exhausted.” 

Katie helps you up, before she excuses herself to quickly run back to the team who was still training on the pitch. She went to tell them what happened, like she had promised. She talked to Jonas about the both of you needing the rest of training off as well, and finally she made sure that Kyra would have a ride home. 

Back home you lay down on the couch immediately, while Katie makes her way to the kitchen, coming back with a glass of water and some painkillers for your headache. “I’m really sorry that I ruined your surprise in such a horrific way.” She sits down next to you, leaving some space just in case you need it, but you quickly scoot into her side. “At least I no longer have to keep secrets from you, I hate keeping secrets from you.” Katie presses a soft kiss to the top of your head. “Oh, and you’re telling Ella that you figered out the surprise, preferably without the whole explanation of the story.” You say before wrapping your arms around her waist and laying your head down on your chest, getting ready to take a well deserved nap. “Okay, I’ll call her tonight. Does telling her I saw the two of you messaging about it sound alright to you?” You hum letting her know it does, before closing your eyes. 

Katie holds you while you sleep, feeling grateful that you were giving her the opportunity to make it up to you. She loved you more than anything in the world, which was also the reason that she was so scared of losing you. She promised herself to improve her communication skills, so nothing like this would ever happen again, before she closed her own eyes and fell asleep with you.

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[dancinglikebutterflywings]

Obsession | Hongjoong

- Pairing: office worker!Kim Hongjoong x Co-worker!reader

- Requested by: no-one. It's just another idea I had that wouldn't leave my mind and Joong won the poll.

- Synopsis: Hongjoong has an obsession with one of his co-workers.

- Warnings: hidden cameras, mentions of Y/N showering and Hongjoong watching, Hongjoong is a little possessive, obsession, stalking, Hongjoong is a creep. this is a complete work of fiction (obviously) and in no way portrays who Hongjoong is.

- Word Count: 1,166

- Requests: CLOSED until May or June

- Tag List: Open. Tag List Form

A/N: I'm not good at writing yandere-ish fics but I tried. Let me know what you think.

Hongjoong Masterlist | ATEEZ Masterlist | Main Masterlist

Does Kim Hongjoong feel disgusted with himself as he watches Y/N undress for her shower on the small screen on his phone? Of course, he was never like this before he met her. Could he bring himself to stop? The simple answer is no.   

When Kim Hongjoong first met Y/N, she was a fresh face on his data analysis team. Her sweetness and kindness towards him and their colleagues made her stand out, as she genuinely tried to befriend with everyone. The way she carried herself with confidence and her carefree nature is what initially drew Hongjoong in. He felt an attraction to her unlike anything he had felt before, which soon bordered on obsession and possessiveness. He knew he should look away, that this wasn’t the man he wanted to be, yet there was an insatiable hunger gnawing at him on the inside.  

As the steam from the shower filled the screen and his mind with hazy fantasies, Hongjoong wrestled with guilt. He had always prided himself on being a leader, someone who respected boundaries and implemented them well especially with his colleagues. Yet here he was, crossing lines he never thought he would dare to approach.  

His fingers trembled as they hovered over the screen. His mind thinks back when he found out that she was going out of town one weekend for her brother's wedding as she talked to the slightly older woman at the desk next to hers. That's when he had the idea and he had two weeks to execute it. He ordered some spy cameras and continued to follow her home this time learning her passcode to her apartment and finding out more about that one nosy neighbor she has and the guy across the hall that likes her a little too much for Hongjoong's liking. Once he had all the stuff he needed, he staked out her apartment building, waiting for her leave and when he made sure she wasn't coming back he snuck up to her apartment, unlocked the door and got to work installing all the hidden cameras.  

Hongjoong tries to justify his actions by telling himself it was him trying to protect her from those who could easily take advantage of her kindness. But deep down, he knew it was a weak justification and that it his true intentions was for his own sick and twisted desires. The thrill of watching her, even from afar, had become an addiction.  

As the warm glow of the screen illuminated his face, Hongjoong felt a familiar mix of excitement and dread. The guilt was there, gnawing at him like a persistent itch he couldn't scratch. He knew he was spiralling deeper into a dark place, yet each time Y/N's image flickered on his phone, he found it increasingly difficult to look away.  

He recalls the moments they shared, innocent in nature, the late nights at the office, her infectious smile brightening even his darkest days. She had this way of making him feel valued, wanted and needed despite him being the boss. He cherished the fleeting moments and the shared little glances that made him feel like they were hiding a secret from the others. But now, as he watched her prepare for her shower, that innocent connection felt overshadowed by his growing obsession. The lines between admiration and possession continue to blur together with every passing day.  

A commotion outside his office, has Hongjoong hastily pausing the video and exiting out of the camera app. He quickly stands up from his chair and leaves his office to see what's happening. A few feet away is Y/N, who has the new guy who couldn't seem to take the hint that she wasn't interested in him, face down on the ground. She is kneeling on his back with his arm pulled back and twisted in a painful way. "Touch me again and it'll be the last thing you do," she warns the guy.  

Hongjoong’s heart raced as he took in the scene before him. He could feel himself getting hard and tried to will it to stop. Before it became noticeable, he shouts at the two. "Miss L/N, let him go and get back to work. Mr Im, my office now," he demands the two and turns around to go back into his office.  

As Hongjoong re-entered his office, a rage like no other fills him. Despite Y/N successfully defending herself, the idea that someone else touched her and could touch her in any kind of way sends waves of possessiveness coursing through him, igniting a fire he could barely control. He runs his hand through his hair, trying to ease the tension in his muscles. Pacing back and forth in his office, he tries to ease the feeling of wanting to toss Mr. Im the 8th floor window.  

He leaned against his desk, trying to catch his breath and regain some semblance of composure when he hears Mr. Im enter his office. He forced himself to focus on Mr. Im, his face devoid of any emotion. Mr. Im on the other hand, is standing there, visibly sweating under his boss's intense gaze.  

“You know we have a zero intolerance for inappropriate behaviour, right?” Hongjoong's asked, his voice steady but low and laced with a fury that made it clear he wouldn’t tolerate any nonsense, while ignoring his own hypocrisy.  

“I-I didn’t mean anything by it! I thought she liked me!” Mr. Im stammered, desperation creeping into his tone, his eyes darting around as if searching for an escape route. 

Hongjoong’s jaw clenched. “You thought? Or you hoped?” He stepped closer, invading the other man’s personal space just enough to make him shift uncomfortably. “Let me make this very clear: You touch Y/N again in any way, it's not her you'll have to worry about. I will make your life a living hell. Do you understand me?” 

Mr. Im opened his mouth again but seemed to reconsider whatever words were about to spill out. Instead, he nodded hastily, perhaps realizing that arguing further would only dig him deeper into trouble. 

“Good,” Hongjoong replied coolly as he straightened up and backed away slightly, giving Mr. Im a moment to regain some composure while still keeping an eye on him. “Now get back to your desk and stay away from her.” 

As soon as the door clicked shut behind Mr. Im, Hongjoong felt the tension in his shoulders ease ever so slightly. As he sat back down at his desk, his eyes flicker to his phone and his fingers itch to pick it back up. The urge being too strong he snatches up his phone, unlocking it and opening up the camera app. He goes back to watching the video he was watching before the distraction, this time noticing something he hadn't noticed before. 

Y/N was standing in the middle of the bathroom, towel wrapped around her bare body, staring right at the camera with a small smirk on her lips. 

©️2025 dancinglikebutterflywings - Do not copy. modify and/or repost anywhere.

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[sturnsblogs]

CRASHING DOWN

Nick!Sturniolo X Tattoo!Artist!Mateo

Warnings- Quite a lot of angst.

—

Their clothes were tossed somewhere across the room. The sheets were messy, but warm. Nick laid with his head on Mateo’s chest, drawing absent-minded shapes on his skin. Their second first time had been everything the first one wasn’t—soft, slow, real. Mateo had kissed him like he meant it. Touched him like he cared. Told him how beautiful he was. And Nick believed him.

“I feel safe with you,” Nick whispered sleepily.

Mateo wrapped an arm around his waist, pulling him closer. “You are safe with me.”

Nick blinked up at him, wide-eyed and full of something Mateo knew he didn’t deserve.

“I’ll be right back, baby,” Mateo murmured, pressing a kiss to Nick’s forehead before slipping out from under the covers.

Nick watched him leave, his chest fluttering in a way it hadn’t in a long time.

Mateo came back a few minutes later, holding something behind his back. His heart was hammering. He wanted this to be a moment Nick remembered forever—maybe so he’d stay, even after everything. Even after the truth.

He knelt by the bed, slowly revealing a small bouquet of bellflowers and a box of Nick’s favorite chocolates.

Nick’s breath caught.

Mateo looked up at him, eyes shining. “These are your favorite, right?”

Nick nodded, already buzzing with excitement. “Mateo…”

“Will you be my boyfriend?” he asked quietly, almost shy. “For real. No confusion. No more ‘just friends’ bullshit.”

Nick let out a small, overwhelmed laugh, swiping at his eyes. “Yeah,” he whispered. “Yeah, I will.”

Mateo climbed into bed beside him again, wrapping him in his arms as Nick laid his head on his chest once more.

“You didn’t have to get flowers, you know,” Nick mumbled.

“I know,” Mateo said softly, “but you deserve them.”

They lay in silence, just breathing, bodies tangled and hearts beating too fast. But neither of them said anything more.

Because for a second, everything felt perfect.

And Mateo didn’t know how he was ever going to tell him the truth.

Mateo had fallen asleep not long after whispering “I love you” against Nick’s neck.

His face was calm now, lips parted just slightly, one arm still draped loosely around Nick’s waist. His chest rose and fell with the kind of peaceful rhythm that made Nick want to stay in this moment forever.

But Nick couldn’t sleep.

He was too full—of butterflies, of thoughts, of Mateo. So he laid there quietly, fingers gently tracing Mateo’s arm, then—after a while—he reached over for Mateo’s phone on the nightstand. He knew the passcode. Not because Mateo gave it to him, but because he once caught him putting it in. Nick didn’t plan to snoop… he just missed Mateo already, even though he was right there.

He unlocked it and opened Instagram. Mateo’s page popped up automatically, his grid full of smiling photos, skateboarding clips, a few thirst traps that Nick secretly liked a little too much. There were pictures of them too—some recent, some older—but all of them made Nick’s heart ache in the sweetest way.

Until it didn’t.

A notification popped up at the top of the screen:

zeke_secret just posted a new reel

“bet update”

Nick froze.

He didn’t recognize the username at first, but it said “Zeke” and that was enough to make his stomach twist. His thumb hesitated. Then, almost on instinct, he clicked it.

The account was private, but he was already following it. And what loaded wasn’t just a reel.

It was him.

Well—Mateo. Sitting in some living room, wearing that stupid hoodie Nick always stole. His voice played through the speakers like poison.

“Bro, it’s not even serious,” Mateo laughed. “I can flick that shit off whenever I want. Nick’s cute and all but it’s just a bet. Don’t act like I’m in love or some shit.”

Nick’s chest tightened. His breath stopped.

The sound echoed in his head. “Just a bet.” “Flick that shit off.” “Not serious.”

He couldn’t breathe.

Slowly, he lowered the phone onto the sheets. Mateo still slept beside him, undisturbed, lips parted like nothing had changed. Like he hadn’t just broken Nick’s heart without even waking up.

Nick slid out from under the covers. Silently. Carefully. Like if he made too much noise, he’d break into sobs.

He pulled on his pants, grabbed his shirt from the floor with shaking hands, and slipped it over his head.

His eyes burned as he turned to look at Mateo one last time.

Then, with silent tears sliding down his cheeks, Nick left.

Nick didn’t remember the walk home.

Not really.

The tears blurred everything—his vision, the streetlights, the familiar cracks in the sidewalk. His arms were wrapped tightly around himself, sleeves tugged down over his fists as if he could hold his heart together by force.

The night was cold. Or maybe it just felt that way because Mateo’s warmth was still fading from his skin.

By the time he reached the front door, his hands were trembling. He didn’t bother wiping his face. He just turned the knob, stepped inside, and shut the door quietly behind him.

Chris was sitting on the couch, a bowl of popcorn on his lap, half-watching some movie on the TV. Matt was near the kitchen, sipping water straight from the jug, and both of them turned their heads immediately.

“Nick?” Chris called, brow furrowed.

Matt straightened up. “Dude… weren’t you with—?”

But Nick didn’t answer.

He kicked off his shoes quickly, head down, walking fast like he could outrun them if he just made it to the stairs.

“Nick,” Chris said again, softer now, more careful.

“Hey—” Matt stepped forward, noticing the way Nick’s shoulders trembled. “Are you—?”

“I’m fine,” Nick said, voice cracking mid-word.

But he wasn’t.

He made it halfway up the stairs before the sob caught in his throat, sharp and helpless. It broke out of him like a gasp.

Chris was the first one to follow. “Hey, hey—Nick.”

Matt was right behind.

“Please don’t,” Nick said, voice thin and breaking. He didn’t want to cry like this—not in front of them. Not when he’d given so much of himself away and had it all ripped out in one night.

But then he felt Chris’s hand on his back, and Matt’s arm coming around the front, and suddenly it didn’t matter how much he wanted to be alone.

Because they were there.

Both of them. No questions yet. Just warmth.

And when Nick collapsed into their arms, sobbing quietly into Matt’s hoodie and gripping onto Chris like his chest might cave in, neither of them let go.

They didn’t need to know what happened.

They just held him tighter.

They sat him on the couch like he was made of glass. Chris to his right, Matt on the floor in front of him, resting his elbows on his knees, eyes worried and locked on Nick’s face.

“Nick…” Chris’s voice was quiet, careful. “What happened?”

Nick sniffled, shaking his head like if he didn’t say it out loud, it wouldn’t be real. But the tears came back fast. He looked down, hands shaking in his lap, mouth opening—then closing again. The words got stuck.

Matt shifted closer. “Hey. You don’t have to say it if you can’t but—talk to us, man. What happened?”

Nick inhaled shakily and finally let it out in a choked whisper, “I saw a video.”

Chris frowned. “A video?”

“I-I was on his phone,” Nick mumbled, voice cracking again. “I wasn’t even snooping—I just wanted to look at his pictures and then… a notification popped up from Zeke.”

Matt stiffened. “Zeke?”

Nick nodded slowly, eyes glossy, heart pounding in his chest like it would bruise his ribs. “It was… it was his private account. I clicked it, and there was a video. Of Mateo. Saying…” He swallowed, barely able to finish. “Saying he could flick off his love for me like a switch. That it wasn’t real.”

Chris’s jaw clenched. “You’re kidding me.”

Matt sat back slightly, eyes wide in disbelief.

Nick continued, barely above a whisper. “I just… left. I couldn’t breathe. It hurt so bad, and I just—I didn’t wanna hear anything else.”

Suddenly, his phone lit up beside him, buzzing violently. One, two, five—ten messages in a row.

Chris glanced at it, eyes narrowing. “It’s him.”

Nick didn’t move. But the screen kept flashing, buzzing again and again until it was unbearable.

Matt reached forward and tilted it so they could all see the most recent texts flooding in.

Mateo: Baby please.

Mateo: Please answer.

Mateo: The video was before I even knew you. Before anything was real.

Mateo: I didn’t know I’d fall for you. I didn’t know I’d love you.

Mateo: Nick. Please. I love you now. I swear I do.

Mateo: I’m outside.

Nick blinked, lips trembling. Chris leaned in gently. “Do you want to see him?”

Nick didn’t know. Every part of him was cracked open, bleeding. But he also knew—deep down—that part of him still wanted to hear what Mateo had to say.

Even if it broke him worse.

Nick sat frozen, hands gripping the edge of the couch like it was the only thing keeping him tethered. His eyes were locked on the floor, tears silently dripping from his lashes, while his phone kept buzzing beside him like a cruel reminder.

Matt’s eyes didn’t move from the screen.

Another text flashed.

Mateo: I swear to god, Nick, I’d take it back if I could. Just talk to me. Please.

Matt stood up suddenly. “Fuck this. You’re not seeing him.”

Nick looked up, eyes wide. “Matt—wait—”

But Matt was already storming out of the living room, the front door slamming behind him before Nick could even finish his sentence.

Chris grabbed Nick’s shoulder gently, trying to hold him back. “Let him… just let him go off for a sec. He’s pissed.”

Outside, Mateo stood at the bottom of the porch stairs, wringing his hands, looking pale and anxious. The second he saw Matt, he tried to speak.

“Matt—please, I just need to see him—”

Matt didn’t hesitate. He stomped down the steps and got in Mateo’s face, shoving him backward by the chest hard enough to make him stumble.

“You think you can fuck around with someone like that and just come crawling back with flowers and a few texts?” Matt spat, rage twisting his features. “You think you can bet on someone like they’re a fucking game, and it’ll just go away?!”

Mateo’s breath caught. He held his ground, chest rising and falling rapidly, but his eyes were filled with guilt, not anger.

“I didn’t mean for it to go that far—” he tried, voice cracking.

Matt shoved him again, this time harder. “But it did. You made him love you. You made him feel safe—and now he’s inside, crying his fucking heart out because of you.”

Mateo stumbled back, hitting the car behind him. He didn’t push Matt back. He didn’t yell. He just stood there, face crumpling.

“I love him,” he whispered. “I do. I didn’t know I would. I didn’t expect it—I didn’t plan it. But I love him now.”

Matt sneered. “Well, too fucking late.”

“Please,” Mateo’s voice broke completely as he looked toward the house. “Just let me see him. Let me explain. I’ll do anything—anything. I just… I need him to know it’s real now. That I’m not playing anymore.”

Matt stared at him, breathing heavy, fists clenched like he was deciding whether to hit him or not.

Mateo’s voice was barely a whisper. “Please.”

And inside the house, Nick stood frozen by the door, watching through the window—his heart shattering into something smaller than pieces.

—

A/N- I know kier hates me rn 😇

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