⋆.˚𝐤𝐞𝐢𝐢༘⋆

The idea originally came from Chance—obviously— who, one day, came up with a plot of a party filled with strangers who lost something in a certain carnival when they were young. Each player returned to the carnival once more, drawn to find the lost piece they had been stripped away from.

Now, the rest of the adventure is up to Chance as the dungeon master to continue the plot.

The campaign was a five-player campaign, but turned into six for Parker to join in along with the office desk buddies. It's been in the plans for many weeks now, and everyone was excited that they made their own characters per Chance's approval as the DM. He was still brainstorming worldbuilding, and yet he was doing quite well.

You kind of admired Chance for his creativity. Have you seen him DM'ing? Along with his talents to improvise, and do voices. Yes, the character voices that never fail to fluster you when it has the chance.

However, despite everyone’s excitement, you were troubled. Troubled by the fact that your character has potential, but you couldn't come up with anything that they have lost. Let alone any backstory that connects with it.

Simply put, you need some help.

You fetched some coffee from the kitchen and decided to bring one for Chance too, and maybe some snacks before you beelined your way to the office door.

The mugs are in both hands, and a bag of chips was dangling between your teeth. You nudged the office door open and entered the office quietly.

There, you see, by the window was another set of carpet with three bean bag chairs and a small table near the window. You made some alterations in the office in cases like these.

Chance was sitting on one of the bean bags, hunched over while he read, with papers scattered everywhere.

There was something so alluring when he was deep in focus, especially when your d20 looked like he hadn't slept a wink. Some of his hair sticks out in odd directions, and there is evident exhaustion under his eyes. It was… kind of concerning.

You quietly approached him when he was still distracted to notice your presence as you carefully leaned the coffee mug near his cheek. The aroma that wafted through his nostrils was enough to disrupt his focus as he flinched, and ruby eyes were now staring at you in surprise.

“Oh, [m/n]!” Chance squeaked, causing you to snicker through your teeth when the bag of chips was still dangling. He quickly took the mug from you, before you took the chips from your mouth and placed them on the coffee table.

“Look at you, concentrating.” You mused and plopped on the bean bag beside him.

Chance's eyes glanced from where he was when you took a sip from your mug, and reached out to one of the papers that were scattered on the carpet. Chance inaudibly gulps through his coffee, as you read through the contents in concentration.

The air between you was nothing but comfortable, yet somehow the d20 was nervous.

“These look amazing…” You hummed, still reading through the sheet. Unaware of how Chance shifted in his seat.

You set your mug down, and your eyes finally turn to him, smiling. “I'm not spoiling myself here, am I?”

Chance shook his head and chuckled. “No, you're good.”

You let out a breathy chuckle and read some of the sheets again in a different paper, it was the details about the carnival this time. However, you were distracted. There are multiple and legible inks that resonate with his handwriting, where some of the letters are smaller or tilted than others.

It was still beautifully written, though. Your thumb swiped over the inked letters as your eyes finally turned to Chance.

“You should take a break and rest for the day.” You suggested out of worry and you can see how his eyes softened.

“No worries! I'll be fine!” Chance reassures you. But the way you're looking at him tells that you were unconvinced. “Besides, Parker finally sent his character sheet.”

“No, yeah. You have to let me see it, Chance.” A small laugh bubbled from the pits of your throat. You really wanted to see what Parker had come up with as someone who has a different expertise and viewpoint on games.

“His sheet was a little odd, but it did the job.” Chance chuckled alongside you. But then his gaze shifted to another topic. “Speaking of character sheets…”

“...You still haven't sent me yours.”

You visibly flinched under his eyes, and your instincts brought you to look away. It felt like you were caught red-handed. You were trying to look like you don't need a hand and be subtle with your approach to your sheet.

Seems like you weren't being subtle enough. And Chance was immediately immersed in your problem; there's no escaping now.

“Oh, yeah.” You breathed out. “About that, I'm actually struggling coming up with a backstory for my character and also about what they've lost…”

This causes Chance to perk in interest. His DM mode is on. “I see… You're a rogue right? Can I see your character sheet?”

“Uhm… sure.”

Voice laced with uncertainty, you stood from the bean bag and approached the desk drawer to get your sheet. But not before knocking softly to alert Jerry to the sudden sunlight. There was now a brown folder in your hand, and you sat on your bean bag again and handed it to Chance.

You watched him open the folder, and the longer Chance stayed silent while staring at the papers, the more nervous you were getting. You were almost certain it wasn't that bad. But of course, he's the expert here. Not you. Every second that passed felt like torture if he kept staying silent like this. Now you're convinced that it sucks.

“Huh.” It was only one word with three letters.

You raised a brow at the lukewarm reaction, not knowing what to say. And it seems Chance doesn't know either as the d20 turned another page.

“Is it really that bad?”

He was suddenly quick to interject.

“No–! Not at all!” Chance’s hands immediately and frantically waved as if he were swatting flies just to reassure you. Then his eyes darted back to the papers from the grasp of his hands.

“It's just… wow. Wow. Holy crit, a tabaxi? I never expected you would choose a tabaxi out of all races!”

You could feel yourself flush from the d20’s excitement. Maybe you didn't mess up your character after all. Chance really loved it by how he gushed over the sketch of your character that you drew a day ago on the side of the paper.

You cleared your throat to regain your composure; and tried your best to be normal in the conversation. “Well, he's a snow leopard tabaxi…”

This seems to shock Chance even more. “And you're struggling with a backstory??” There was a small snicker from him, and it immediately turned you defensive.

“Hey, I can't help it if I want to make him a complex character!” You laughed along with Chance who shook his head. This is perfect.

It's just what he needs, a complex character to create a little discourse—or not—for the party. Someone very difficult to get along with.

You don't want to exaggerate but you can almost see the multiple cogs on Chance's head turning. As if he were plotting something good. He looked super mischievous when his glasses reflected and his fingers linked together with a smirk.

Before you can say anything, Chance tapped the folder in thought one last time before turning to you.

“How about holding a session? In that way, maybe we can experiment with some of the scenarios that best fit your character.” He suggests, and there’s a glint in his eyes that you couldn't quite put a finger on.

But, wait a minute, a session?

“What? Chance, no.” You frowned in quick disapproval. “You already have your hands full because of the campaign. You need to rest.”

“I know, and I will! Besides, I really need a session. All this brainstorming is frying my mind.” Chance's excitement didn't falter despite your worried eyes, and he grins at you softly, to say that he really needed a break from all the thinking. You curse at yourself for falling into his pleading, doe eyes.

You reluctantly gave in. “Rest for the week then you'll get your session.”

Your voice was firm, demanding even as Chance watched you cross your arms with a serious expression on your face. He looked at you starstruck, then to your leopard tabaxi sketch, then to you again.

One week's rest. Seven days with no brainstorming or sessions, just resting. But after all this, he'll get the session he wanted whether he delays the campaign or not.

For the sake of your character, Chance agrees without hesitation.

Imagine his struggle for seven days when he couldn't stop thinking about coming up with a backstory for your character. Liking the design was an understatement for the d20, because he loves it to the point he's fanboying.

The white fur with dark leopard patterns, clad in medieval clothing, leather straps, alongside protective shoulder and knee pads, and a large cloak cascaded over the features. Oh, Chance has the perfect backstory for this. Your character is up to perfection.

Your character design was amazing, but the stats are the cherry on top. It’s a perfect balance of racial traits and skills. Holy crit. He's obsessed and you don't even know.

Don't get him started on how similar you and the character are in a way. There's this mannerism you and the character both share that Chance couldn't point out.

Now he was getting excited about how they would sound and act. He's so obsessed, and why wouldn't he? It's you and your own creation, yourself projected into a character.

Oh, he's crushing so hard.

“Are you ready for the session?” Chance gets to finally ask after a week, as he feels nothing but excitement.

Meanwhile, you take in the fresh demeanour. So well-rested that his lips curled into a grin, and his eyes gleamed with a whole new glint. It was a bit out of place, you think, but it shows he really needs the rest.

You smiled. “I'm ready when you are, dungeon master.”

The session begins with a simple childhood memory that turned into an adventure in the years your character has grown. Chance narrates every scene alive and voices all the NPCs you've come across, setting every scene and details just for you.

You also became immersed in playing your character, and adapted a personality that suited them the best. You acted gruff, and your voice rasped down to a pitch that the d20 somehow found alluring.

The way a genuine smirk curls to your lips when your character speaks with one of his NPCs, a mysterious glint in your eyes as you spoke rather hoarsely.

It wasn't surprising when Chance finds himself staring at your determination to stay in character, awestruck at how you made the tabaxi rogue alive.

He felt somewhat a bit feverish, stealing subtle glances whenever you spoke with a firm tone. As if you were talking to him, and not the character he voiced. Your voice lulls him in similar to a siren’s song.

Now, Chance felt conflicted at what attraction he had of your character or was it just because of… you?

“You feel the snow crunch under your boots, movement exhausted and weary from the escape. It could've ended badly, but you managed to pull out.” Chance narrates. It's been two hours now, and it seems both of you aren't stopping soon.

“You notice the sun beginning to set, and you look at the forest cascaded with snow before you, there was nothing but trees and the path you followed subconsciously. You need to find shelter, anywhere is fine, just enough to hide you from them.”

You hummed in thought. “Can I… roll for perception check if there's anything that I could possibly notice?”

Chance swallowed unnoticeably, he just likes it when you ask and initiate to roll. As if he's speaking to someone as experienced as him. Knowing what to do and what to say next.

It wouldn't be a surprise when you know how to act since you have played a lot of G&G before, and had him as your trusty d20.

Chance replied with a calm yet small, “Go ahead.” before you rolled your dice, and to your luck rolled a 14, right above the difficulty class.

“Thanks to your keen eyes, you notice a small light emitting through the snowstorm and when you trudge cautiously towards it, you see the sign hanging above the door. It was an inn, looking lively in the middle of the forest.” Chance says and you enter the inn after you didn't find it suspicious.

“There was a hunched figure, presumably the innkeeper, who stood behind the bar counter wiping washed glasses. He noticed you entering by how he lowered the glass; ‘Welcome to the Iced Inn, traveller. How could I be of service?’ he greets you.”

You grinned lightly at how Chance voiced the Innkeeper, tired without a care in the world. You shifted back to your character when you realized you caught yourself in a daze and cleared your throat. “I walked up to the counter and said; ‘How much for a room for the night?’”

The accent that your character has rolled perfectly off your tongue and Chance was smitten once more. It was too much, you were too much. The tips of his ears, along with the skin over his cheekbones became searingly hot.

Just the sight of you being so immersed in your character coils heat into Chance's abdomen, the way your tone tickled through his ears. He was downright flushed, and you didn't even notice him squirming on the carpet.

Both of you didn't know what came over Chance, as his attitude shifts into someone bolder than before. His narration was nearly unwavering.

He really needs to stop looking at you. That's the thing—he can't. Not when Chance needs to act fast. So he does, with a drink that the innkeeper offered. Just a drink, so quick and simple while you waited for the room service to finish upstairs.

You found this odd where the offer felt out of place. You immediately asked if there was anything the innkeeper put in your drink behind your back.

Chance requests for you to roll, and luckily, you managed to roll past the Difficulty Class. The innkeeper placed nothing in your drink but edible juices concocted together and lime.

Once the glass was in your hand, you inspected the liquid given. There was nothing suspicious in it at all.

“I look into my glass and see nothing but the swirl of lime reflected with the various concoctions that the innkeeper placed into it. Reluctantly, I swallowed every drop in one full swig, and put the glass down with a thump.”

Nothing happened. The drink tasted how it normally tasted. It’s sweet, with a hint of a sour aftertaste. You were conflicted by the sudden shift in the air.

The die sounded like he panicked when he came up with the sudden improvisation. You suspected he had something to do with your drink or he had forgotten what's next.

But, alas, it wasn’t. Much to your surprise.

Until you failed a roll. Insight check, right below the difficulty class. Chance took it as an opening and sprung into action where the innkeeper immediately jumped onto with such speed.

You were at a disadvantage, he said, as tendrils wrapped around at a good portion of your torso. An ambush.

Before you could react, there was a flash imagery about a pair of canines that could resemble a vampire's teeth reaching out to plunge your throat. The innkeeper was a vampire in disguise after all.

Yet in the rules of G&G, the scenario has become even more confusing.

There has to be some kind of mistake.

“Uhm, Chance?” You called out and the said d20 was quick to set his eyes on you, a look of attention displayed over his face.

“I hope you didn't forget that tabaxi’s have immunity against vampire venom, and that they have advantages on combat rolls.”

That was when Chance realized his biggest mistake. He had gotten too bold and too forward into narrating that he almost forgot that you were a tabaxi. He made a huge mistake… Holy crit.

Sputtered apologies are what's left of Chance as he succumbed into the pits of embarrassment. He had one job. One! And now he blew it all up. He just wanted to crawl into a hole now and rot in eternity.

He shouldn't have decided to be bold in the first place. Now look at what happened! So much for crushing on a character that he forgot their race.

“Wow…” You muttered out after witnessing his meltdown. Trying to lighten up the mood, you gently laughed. “You’re really desperate to bite my neck that bad, huh?”

Your intention was to tease him, and your delivery certainly reached the expectation but what you didn't expect was Chance's prolonged silence. You stared at him when he hadn't moved an inch.

He completely turned away from your hardened stare as if he was found guilty of a crime that he certainly committed. His palms were moist as a bead of sweat trails down to his cheek, he couldn't look into your eyes. Not yet.

“I– I mean– Uhm…!” He immediately shuts his mouth close at the failed attempt to speak.

Chance's face burned a little hotter than before, as he finally squirmed on the carpet under your gaze. His silence was not something to deny that he, in fact, is desperate to bite your neck. Just the thought makes your cheeks burn.

Your laughter was long gone, leaving you to tilt your head in need of an answer.

“If I allow you to, would you do it?”

You never missed how Chance’s eyes snapped to meet yours in shock, and probably without missing a beat. One minute you were apart, the next he was kneeling before you on his knees trying so hard to compose himself. Chance was silent, assessing as his hand made its way to the back of your neck.

“A-are you sure about this..?” His voice muttered, his eyes never leaving the bob on your Adam's apple. Uncertain, was all he was.

Your eyes glimmered, barely noticeable. “Why not?”

That causes Chance to swallow and feel something pulse. He didn't know where but he was certain it was from him. His eyes deliberately look back at your state and let both of his hands guide you.

Your voice lowers when he tipped your head back, and revealed the skin beneath your chin. Bare and unmarked. His stare lingered on your throat from quite some time, till he exhaled shakily.

“H-here I go…” It turned into a whisper that you can barely hear.

You couldn't point out if it was to warn you, or to reassure himself, but it somewhat worked either way. You feel him lower his head until shaky breathing from his nose caressed your skin. He was nervous, and you can tell. The way his jaw opens to bite it on your skin that was laced with hesitancy gave it away.

You braced yourself when his teeth finally grazed the skin below your Adam's apple and winced when he sunk himself into a bite. Your hand instinctively launched itself to his shoulder and scratched his dice-design hood. Heels digging onto the carpet as you let his bite shift into soft nibbles, his tongue finally lapping on the mark.

Chance slowly reels back and admires the tan color that was clearly out of place on your neck. Your expression was of pain that slowly calmed down.

It was quick, but you silently hoped there was more. Very unaware that Chance was exactly thinking the same thing. But you were bolder than Chance was and you beat him to it.

“What else are you considering?” You finally ask.

Nevertheless, you didn't miss the way his face contorted into shock and after a few minutes, he stared at your eyes intently. Pondering and taking your question into his consideration.

His eyes somehow glimmer after a certain unspoken thought and you look at him with a smile, that was nothing but inviting and consensual.

“Chance. This is…”

Although, you really didn't expect to be in a situation like this. Wearing the familiar clothing of a certain character you specifically created.

That wasn't all. But there's a red rope tied around your torso with all kinds of knots, and the tightness caused you to sit upright or else it would tighten.

“I’ve always known that you weren't innocent. But my tabaxi? Really?” You look at him with a look that was nothing but filled with bewilderment. You and him were at a loss of words for completely different reasons.

You couldn't pinpoint what has gotten him to do this, but it was now evident that he adores your character a little too much. Something happened in the past seven days, you just know it since he clearly has the time to find this costume for you. It lacked details, specifically the embroidery, but the garments were surprisingly accurate.

“W-well, I can explain– But I'm not– y'know.” Words seem to fail Chance when his eyes catch your knowing gaze, filled with recognition. He shrinks away in guilt and looks away. You snorted after he proved your point.

You were actually flattered that someone loved the character you made, you almost feel kind of jealous when it was Chance out of all people. I mean, if you met a cool and handsome tabaxi in real life, fantasy-wise, you'd fawn over him too.

Now, here you are; cosplaying as the said character. Tied up, and sitting on a bean bag with the culprit kneeling before you who also bit your neck.

It wasn't a surprise that Chance was capable of such perversion, but at the same time you wanted to test how far he can go. He's cute when he's embarrassed, and you will do it again if you have to.

You see him fiddling his fingers on his lap, avoiding your gaze as an idea strikes you. You won't know unless you try.

“Innkeeper.”

Chance flinched when the swell of the character's gruff accent beckoned out of blue. His head snapped to look at you and see a mischievous tug on your lips. You looked so superior in this position, and smug. So in character. He gulps and you notice.

You leaned back at the bean bag, legs manspreading, until you leaned forward and stared directly into his quivering eyes.

Your boot was raised and you placed it on his lap, directly above his inner thigh. His eyes were immediately blown into saucers.

You smirked. “If you want to touch me so desperately, you could've just asked.”

It didn't take long for you to squirm beneath him and one thing led to another as you found yourself writhing from the sensation that pounded at your rim. Your shoulders to your head stiffly laid on the bean bag for support while your body was positioned sideways. Legs folding to let Chance do his work.

His fingers, deliberately slow and surprisingly thick, thrusts it in and out of your ass and repeats the motion until he can finally scissor you loose.

Heaving breaths would escape your lips whenever the thick flesh drags on your insides. As if it was making sure to feel every crevice, and savor every plush warmth despite your rim tightening around his fingers as your cock leaks pre.

It also didn't help that you were bound by rope, where every squirm would cause the restraints to tighten around your torso and arms. It was nowhere near as comfortable but it wasn't uncomfortable either.

Not to mention that you both were still clothed as your pants were lowered to your knees. Although it seems a silent agreement was in place and you both find it rather sensual and exciting.

“Cat got your tongue, traveller?” Your eyes widened at the voice when you snapped your head at Chance in shock. A soft smirk was on his lips. Encouraging you to talk back as if it was still part of the session.

“Th-that's a bit i-ironic isn't it?” You tried your best to reply but the warmth pooling on your abdomen and ass refrained you from doing so.

His fingers were too thick, it let your words fail you, your confidence from earlier long gone and was replaced by gasps and restrained moans.

Chance watched as your torso curled forward, an attempt to hide yourself, with your eyes avoiding his intense gaze that existed from the start. You were trying so hard to bury your head into the bean bag out of pleasure that it fueled Chance to want more.

He needed more of you. Every twitch, every furrow, every moan, every reaction that he caused; he needed to see it.

“Not when you're under me.” His voice stood firm and confident that you wondered where Chance was able to get that. But your attention was diverted when his fingers pushed your walls apart and pushed his fingertips deeper. Until they suddenly curled and hit your prostate.

“Hrgh-?! Fuck!!” Your eyes rolled back in your head as your teeth bit your lower lip to ground yourself. But the pleasure was too much to handle. Your cock leaked, and it twitched when Chance's fingers grazed your prostate again.

You silently gasp, and your eyes widened at the overwhelming sensation. Your toes curled inside the boots as your back arched backwards.

Chance bit his lip as his face contorted into satisfaction, his hair disheveled when he saw your body trembling under him. Because of him. His teeth marks on your throat bobbed in anticipation with your mouth parted for air, glossy with your drool.

That's when your eyes captured his gaze that was filled with expectancy and pleading. You know what it meant, and you couldn't push him away. It wasn't that easy.

Instead, you invited him closer. Chance leaned forward to your face and suddenly, a strong force slammed itself onto his lips, taking him back surprised. Your tongue, as hot as it can be, ravished his own. Chance may be good at pleasuring, however, you had the upper hand when it comes to kissing.

He practically melted and became this moaning mess when your tongue evaded his throat. You can see his ruby eyes roll to the back of his head with his brows tightening that make your cock twitch.

If only you weren't tied up right now.

You pulled away much to Chance's dismay as you admired your work. His pleading eyes were brimmed with tears and desperation, his face flushed, and his lips glossed with your spit.

You simply hummed in satisfaction. He looks so pretty like this, with his hair messy and sticking everywhere, his glasses askew. Disheveled in pleasure.

Out of the corner of your eyes, you noticed movement. Your eyes darted below, and saw his crotch slowly grinding your thigh, then you saw the desperate expression on his face. Needy. Your legs twitch from the grinding.

Chance leaned down and rested his head on your bare hip, nuzzling his forehead on your skin tenderly.

“[m/n], I want to cum with you…” He was still rocking his hips, sighing shakily and you know that he knows better than that.

“Where are your manners, Chance?” Your voice was soft. Yet it sliced through those tensed shoulders of his, and shivers.

He bashfully raised his head from your hip, and you can see how flushed pink he was. Mixing his embarrassment and aching arousal where you can finally feel his erection rutting against you.

“Please, please… I promise I'll be good.” He whined into your ear. It still didn't help the fact that his fingers were still prying you open for him. Never leaving the insides of your plush, gummy warmth. You slightly thrashed, the ropes tightening as you do so but you eventually calmed down.

“Okay, alright...” You sigh, exhaling shakily. “We're both guys. You don't have to go easy on me.” His eyes glinted by your words that goes unnoticed.

You'd absolutely abolish this man if it wasn't for the restraints. The need to ruin him was clearly evident in your head as an objective. Wrecking him into a sobbing mess while you ride him or let him rut into your hole in oblivion.

Of course, who are you to deny his plea when this nerd with broad shoulders was practically begging just to be inside you? Couldn't be you.

The ruffling of his clothes echoed through your ears, and you breathed heavily when warmth flushed your forehead. Your heart was beating against your ribcage from the excitement and nervousness as his hands turned your body to face him.

Placing your legs around his waist after he tugged your pants off, leaving you wearing your boots with your torso still clothed. In response, you interlocked your ankles behind him to steady yourselves.

That was when something warm was placed on top of your erection, his cock. Your eyes widen when it lightly slapped your skin with pre already dribbling from the slit and the girthy base looming over yours.

You swallowed nothing but thick drool. The man before you moaned as he dragged his cock away, the underside grazing against your twitching base.

You shuddered with vigor when you could feel his tip prodding against the rim, and smearing his slick against your puckered hole. It was a good thing he’d prepped you beforehand. Chance slowly pushed himself inside while your eyes widened from the sudden stretch.

He was thick. First it burned and made you wince but Chance knows better and lets you take your time to adjust. Peppering your lips and jaw with kisses in hopes to distract you.

It didn't take long before you wanted more and now he was rutting against your hole while picking up the pace. Chance sinks into you with a loud whine when your tight rim clenched around his fat base. Both of you fighting off your orgasm. There was a stretch on your ass that you couldn't help but notice, his cock prying you wide and it nestled into your hole.

“H-holy crit–!” Chance whimpered as he subconsciously leaned forward in hopes to fill you with nothing but him, and only him. His heavy weight pressed against yours so you can clamp all of him, his nails printing crescents on your hips while his cock squelches and plugs you full.

The air is knocked out of your lungs whenever he thrusts himself further inside your walls, dragging and impaling you over and over. Just the thought of him dominating you and using you felt electrifying. Blood rushed to your head, and you felt like you were on fire.

The tip of his cock thrusts upright with a curve and your eyes suddenly roll to the back of your head when his tip prods against the bundle of nerves.

“Sh-hit, Chance...!” You choked as your arms thrashed behind your back that arched backwards at the pleasuring intrusion. Your nails thrashing on the ropes in hopes for your escape.

Shaky breaths and moans escaped from you both and Chance picked up his pace for your satisfaction, wanting to please you. He kept thrusting while tears swelled in his eyes as he leaned his weight forward again to capture your lips.

You obliged despite your knees buckling and your breaths shaking. You still managed to dominate every crevice of his mouth that worked wonders on him and you didn't notice the way his hand snaked at your roped back and gripped onto the knot where your hands are.

Your cock twitched from the lack of attention, bobbing in sync with his thrusts. You and Chance were a complete mess, dazed while his tip would constantly thrust onto your prostate while the d20 savored going further into your gummy walls.

You were close, and so was he. The moans of your name escape him with bated, shaky breaths as he inched himself closer to you—if it was even possible. Meanwhile, you let him rut and gasp when heat begins to coil your groin.

Chance's thrusts slowly turned sloppy but he kept the fastened pace nonetheless and pounded away. That was until a sharp snap to his hips, and your eyes widened when you finally noticed his vice grip on the tied knot behind you and used it to pull your weight upwards on top of him.

“Wh– Wait! Chance–!” Your vision momentarily turns flashing white when Chance slams your hips down onto him, impaling your puckered hole with his cock until his tip reaches to the furthest peak inside you.

Your toes twitch and curl, with your back and head arched backwards when sparks of sensitivity strike through you. The tight sensation on your torso adds to the pleasure.

You couldn't fight the overwhelming sensation when your teeth made its way to his neck, finally marking him with a dark color that was similar to yours.

You came untouched, your release coating Chance's torso who hugged you closer to him and buried his head onto your shoulder.

His hips stuttering, pumping his release inside your plush warmth. Ruby pupils rolled to the back of his head as he drools to the pleasure, whining and whimpering. Rolling his hips to prolong your orgasms.

Heavy breaths ensued on you both and you stayed in the same exact position as you calmed down. Shaky inhales and exhales soon transitioned into calm breathing, and you fell limp on top of Chance who securely wrapped his arms around you. Both of you took the time to recollect your sanity, leaning on each other for comfort.

Until, you felt something—still—penetrating you where something thick and hot in your stomach pools. Painting your walls with such massive amounts. You raise your head from Chance's shoulder who looks at you and you stare at him, perplexed from the realization.

“Did you just…?”

“So… What was that about, hm?” You lightly chuckled while observing the evident rope marks on your arms, especially your hands where every curve was imprinted in your skin. You leaned back to the wall, and sat on the bean bag like earlier but more refreshed than ever. The afterglow was really something else.

You look at your hands and try to stretch them out. It was sore. Technically, all parts of you were sore as hell. Both of you had really gone out. Nonetheless, the aftercare was amazing. Chance really provided everything. From cleaning you up, letting you rehydrate with water, helping you dress comfortably and more.

Meanwhile, the said d20 was back kneeling on the carpet, again. His post-nut clarity snapped him out of his lust-drunken trance and realized that he came inside you. He didn't even hesitate to carry you to the bathroom to wash you up. Constantly spitting his apologies while he carried you everywhere.

What does he even say? How do people do this? Chance doesn't know. He’s just the trusty d20 who was mistakenly crushing over a character. When in truth, he actually just loved the creator—you—more who made the said character. He realized that he liked you more than a friend. He loves you.

“Oh, so you love me?” Your voice piped in, laced in amusement.

Holy crit. He didn't mean to mutter that out loud. Holy crit, he doesn't know what to do. Chance looked up from his lap and saw that soft look on your face, smiling, as if you already knew. If you do, he'll just have to crawl into a hole and hide. Eventually Chance nodded, admitting, when he saw you waiting for a response.

“W-well, you're handsome, gentle but sometimes tough to people who wronged you and despite that, you're kind. You're always there for us, you’re considerate, and you also love G&G. You're amazing, and—”

“Woah! Okay, I get it.” You let out a lighthearted laugh, palming at your red face to hide the obvious color of your flush. You expected him to say that you love G&G as him but you didn't expect a full list. Somehow, you feel your stomach flip.

“I'm so sorry…” Chance shrunk despite his broad stature, he was red in the face and your gaze softened in pity. He looks like a puppy, sopping wet from rain.

He was probably expecting to be rejected. I mean, there's a lot of options around the house. It was reasonable when you choose the other options. This thought was clear on his face, and you understood it quickly. You sighed, and you ignored the pain on your body when you cupped his cheeks and dipped into his lips for a short kiss.

Chance was stunned yet slightly disappointed when he didn't get to savor your taste when it happened so suddenly. It didn't help when you immediately pulled away just before he could reciprocate back. Watching you lick your lips subconsciously.

“I like you too. More than a friend anyways...” You grinned brightly, but soon you shook your head. Your choice of words was the worst.

"Wait, fuck— I love you too, Chance."

“Holy crit, really?” His eyes widened, his rubies twinkling as you nodded.

“Mhm. I should probably take you out on a date.” You suddenly let out a loud laugh when you realized how ironic this situation that you have gotten yourselves into. Chance looks at you in confusion as your laughter soon subsided.

“It’s just… confessing your feelings to each other doesn't really happen right after having mind-blowing sex." You then shrugged. "Especially, when you're my first."

Another realization dawned upon Chance, as his face immediately blew a fuse. He didn't know, he was unaware that this was your first. So basically, he stole your... Holy crit! You watched when Chance was back in his muttering bubble and you sweat-dropped.

You couldn't even blame him since you were the one who egged him on. Leading you to wear your character's clothes and well… you already know the rest.

Chance managed to calm down once more and he looked in your eyes, before looking at your lips, then at your eyes again. You shook your head, and leaned in to capture his lips against yours once more. This time, you both savored how tender it was, and taking your time.

You're going to be the death of him—and he's going to be the death of you.

“About the costume… uhm…”

“Chance, lover, I already know.”

“Oh.”

You became a psychic when you turned three, and life has been miserable since then. The universe seems to choose you specifically to make your life worse as it already is.

Everything was fine at first, and you often used it to your advantage to make good decisions and connections. You made good friends, and you helped a lot of people. You were unstoppable.

At least that's what you think growing up.

However, the more minds are read, the more you find it annoying and more disruptive in your routine. You can read it all once brief contact is made.

From the person's troubles, their intrusive thoughts, their secrets, to their desires. All of it.

Until you finally snapped during your time in university. It became more of a disturbance, and you decided to distance yourself from contact completely, and life was rather peaceful since.

You'd listen to music whenever someone makes an accidental contact, you'll force your mind blank to keep unwanted thoughts of others away, and complete your studies like how it has always been.

You've even bought yourself a house and worked from home to avoid reading people's minds. People may think you were a germophobe. But it was far from that. You just wanted to be alone, no mind reading, all by yourself in your house.

But, who would've thought your whole house could speak, let alone think with their own minds? Everything in your house is alive ever since you have the spectacles, and it was a nightmare.

“Wait. Are you saying…” You inhaled sharply, eyes widening at two people who are the personification of the dateviators and your door. Your front door, alive and breathing. The same door you take comfort in greeting whenever you come home.

“Are you saying everything…” You motioned your finger in circles. “...in here, my house… is alive?”

Skylar rubbed her nape, pursing her lips sheepishly. “All of them? Kinda…?” Her hesitation didn't reassure you one bit.

“We are, in fact, alive.” Dorian seems so calm, in contrast to your panicking state. You aren't alone in your home, after all. The door watched as you rubbed your face in distress, letting out incoherent mumbling.

“Oh, God.” You rubbed your face even harder. You felt a headache coming in, and this worsens it. If everything is alive, then that means they all knew you, and the toilet…

“No, no way…” Skylar and Dorian watch you mumble. The woman seems worried at your shock, trying to reassure you that it wasn’t that bad.

Meanwhile, Dorian was amused. Who knew their homeowner could be this shy despite your non-sociable exterior? And if he looked closely enough, he could see the visible flush of embarrassment from the base of your neck to your forehead hidden behind your calloused hands.

“Is it alright if I wanted to think things through?” You asked Skylar with tired eyes, and she stuttered in agreement. She looked reluctantly worried to let things go, and now you felt bad. That's when you gave her shoulder a small pat.

Surprise flashed her eyes for a moment. “Maybe I was being too forward in my approach. I really hope I didn't scare him away…”

Oh, shit. You didn't mean to read her thoughts like that.

Somehow, she reminded you too much of the women you befriended when you were still in university. A sister, almost. You couldn't say no to her. Not when she looked so defeated. If she really wanted you to meet everyone in the house, then, you shall.

“Uhm, I'll just come back tomorrow.” You didn't miss a beat from seeing her eyes sparkle when you said that. “I still have to rethink everything…”

Skylar agreed to let you think of everything for the day and gave you space. Holding onto the hope that you’ll come back tomorrow. You spend your day deep in thought. The way you move around is suddenly cautious, aware of the sentient beings around your house.

You started subtle, and you slowly met a decent amount of them and got to know them better. It was rather hard to see them as lovers though, and you have personal stuff to deal with and it may ruin your relationship with your potential lovers. A quiet friendzone and avoiding skin contact should do the trick.

Of course, you tended to their needs and paid attention to it. If Betty needs a change of sheets, you oblige right away with fresher ones. Wiping away the spills on Abel, done. Offering to keep some of Hoove's hoard, you'll just take it to Jerry, who was more excited than anything. Evacuating Dolly and Lint to lightly sweep the floor, helping Mateo with the inanimals, done. Oh, Florence and Celia needed help? Sure thing.

It was a never-ending task to fulfill their requests.

Everything you handle is done with precision. It was easy. Befriending them with—accidentally—or without reading their minds became simple. As you found yourself to care for them as weeks passed by.

Until something odd happened.

You didn't know why it came to it. But it was any other normal day, and you planned to clean Jean Loo since his breath started to worsen. As a homeowner, as you are, you wanted to help. Now imagine to your surprise when you couldn't get the lid to open, and it was evident he tightened his mouth closed.

“Come on, Jean Loo… Don't keep me waiting.” You beckoned, patting the lid in hopes that he'd open it. It didn't, and you sigh. Dropping the toilet brush, you went to get the dateviators and an extra toothbrush upstairs.

You walked back to the ground floor bathroom wearing the dateviators only to see Jean Loo backing away to the wall defensively. Who could've known that a guy like him is nervous to brush his teeth?

“Do not let that monstrosity go near ‘Lil Crapper! His vocal cords already do not deserve this treatment!” You almost mistake it as a screech but he really is anxious despite babbling how the brush could scratch him.

You grumbled. “Being a Crapper means you have to take care of your throat, y'know! Your voice is your tool!”

You hopped onto the sink with your back facing the mirror, and you decided to be quick. Without a minute to spare, you immediately grabbed Jean Loo's collar and tugged him in front of you as your ankles locked itself around his waist.

He was caught off guard when your hand grabbed his jaw to straighten his gaze on you. The handle of the toothbrush was in between your teeth. You used your other hand to squirt the toothpaste on and finally held it towards with his mouth ajar.

Your eyes flashed with hesitance for a moment, but the growing smell from him kept you going. His thoughts were so loud on accident, yet you brushed it off when the stench permeating from him was even more distracting.

“Hold still.” You scrunch your face and draw the toothbrush in. Brushing the back rows of teeth while ignoring his dramatic gurgles.

“Non, non–!”

The taste of strong mint and close proximity of your face immediately filled Jean Loo's senses and his struggle went by unnoticed as you kept brushing his teeth. Your hand on his jaw would often tighten whenever he wanted to pull away, giving you more control.

You brushed his teeth with care unbeknownst to his hands reaching to your hips and clawed your clothing to steady himself. Eyes darted anywhere but on you as he can feel a raging heat growing from his neck. Maybe it started from his groin which explains the slight and painful strain in his pants. Who knows…

“Fuck, mon cherie. You are driving me insane. Merde–”

His thoughts captured your attention instantly, startling you out of the blue. You even almost dropped the toothbrush till you finally realized the very sensual position you placed both of yourselves into.

The way Jean Loo's eyes gaze at you heavily and the same flush he suffered from blooms over you. It was no doubt he was aroused by how he steadied your hips instead, with Jean Loo's groin ghosting over yours.

You have gotten so used to blocking out the thoughts that it has become so easy to forget that you have mind reading in the first place. Their thoughts would easily consume your sanity.

If you expect their words to be the only thing they thought about, then you're wrong. Most of them used their imaginations to put you into dirty fantasies parred for their satisfaction.

Nevertheless, it gets worse from there...

The scenarios started small.

You were with Cabrizzio in the kitchen. He was leaning on the countertop as he let you inspect the loose hinge on his door. If it were clothing terms, the seam of his jacket was torn. However, Cabrizzio seemed worried. He looked like he had committed something he shouldn't have done, despite it being a simple accident. Again.

“Are you certain it is fixable, Amore?” He asks, glancing down at you on the chair to take a good look at the seam. Your face is filled with focus.

You nodded. “Luckily, it's only loose. If it's broken, then Tony has to fix you up. But he's not available at the moment.” You leaned back to the chair, smiling to offer him reassurance.

“What a relief.” He sighs. “It is unbearable to think of discarding this part of me.” The jacket was a part of him, his life. It makes Cabrizzio, Cabrizzio.

“If you'll give me your jacket, I could fix it up right away.”

He did, and you went straight to work with the screwdriver in hand and held the screws in your hand. Cabrizzio had nothing to do at the moment that's why he took a seat before you. Watching as you raised your leg and placed its ankle on your other knee, and let his jacket fall onto your lap without falling.

You were working in pure concentration, and he loved that. His attention was caught when you would scrunch your face whenever the insertion was wonky, and he'd be able to notice the small shifts in your expression every minute.

The cabinet was distracted.

It didn't take long for him to slump on his chair with his legs parted, similar to a manspread. He hums a small tune while he watches you closely. That was until his foot adjusted, grazing yours.

You poured your focus onto screwing the hinge tight, securing that the man won't accidentally loosen the seam again. Twisting the screwdriver and you let yourself do the work. Unaware of the subtle movement of Cabrizzio, who sat—rather closely—before you. You noticed a shift, then another and–

You turned to the cabinet to ask if there's something bothering him. But you were cut off when a hand jumped to hold your nape and pulled you onto a pair of warm lips. It was sudden, and it caught you off guard. Your hold onto the jacket loosened to your lap from shock, and a wet sensation suddenly prods in-between the seams of your lips.

You groaned when Cabrizzio's tongue managed to slip itself inside your wet cavern and urged it to lap with yours to fight dominance. Grinning when he finally got a taste of you. You tried to fight back as your hands made its way to grip his shoulders without stopping, but he was hungry from desperation and in need of attention. It was difficult to defeat him.

An irresistible heat coiled around your groins, and the obvious tents on your pants speaks louder than any words for the growing lust you both need to satisfy. You moaned when you pulled back from him to catch for air and the cabinet admires the masterpiece he influenced you into. Slumped onto your chair, breathless with your cheeks scarlet, eyes hooded with pleasure, and your lips decorated with gloss from his saliva—

“Italy to Cabrizzio?”

You watched with a suspecting brow when Cabrizzio's train of thought came to a screeching halt, and he snapped his startled face to you. Embarrassment begins to flood within his cheeks, where a bead of sweat comically drips from his temple.

You sighed. Not from his distracted state, but his thoughts that you shamefully watched and embarrassingly so, found it amusing.

The same thing happened with Tony. You were lending him a hand when a couple of floorboards in the attic needed to be hammered down. It was a good thing that Memoria was able to address you with it. Seeing the floorboards can really injure or trip anyone who passes by.

Both of you got to work and crouched. He was on a floorboard right beside yours. The air between you was surprisingly peaceful when working with a guy like Tony. He can actually be professional.

At least that's what you thought. The floorboard he was on seems so hard to hammer down. You didn't hesitate to offer assistance and moved beside him and held the floorboard down with your foot while he hammered down in ease. Little did you know from the slight brush of your other knee to his foot, his mind began to wander.

“Tony, you dickhead.” A sneer from you.

You found yourself on top of him. Fisting his collar out of frustration as you can feel his cock filling the rim of your ass, that electrified to the tip of your erection.

Both of you were supposed to fix the floorboards, but this son of a bitch already dragged you into this before you even realized. It was irritating. He was irritating.

The said man you called out to smirked. Seeing you crinkle your nose, knuckles turning white, and your eyes filled with nothing but aggressive sends a chill down his spine.

But he loved it, he found it so hot when you're angry at him. Just from the thought of your sneering expression and how you get so worked up from irritation forms a hard tent on his pants.

And look where he is now: below your scowling, flushed face and enjoying your warmth wrapped around him.

Curses and moans spilled from your lips as you rode him at a surprisingly brutal pace. Tony can feel himself thrash under you by how aggressively fast you were thrusting his erection inside of you, and—

“Tony?! Tony–!”

You called out to him in sheer frustration. Just like Cabrizzio, Tony snapped out of it and saw you standing in-front of him. Arms crossed, and the frown on your lips tells him that you were unimpressed.

Who wouldn't be, when he was suddenly out of it, and at the same time hammering with a nail so sharp that it can pierce through his hand if you hadn't called him.

Meanwhile, Tony doesn't look guilty. Not one bit. Oh, he was aroused. The way you're looking at him was ecstasy. He can really feel a tight tent growing in his pants. Just keep looking at him like that.

But once you knew why he was biting his lips with hooded eyes, you almost scoffed. Tony was enjoying this too much.

You eventually sighed, frustration subsiding. “Don't zone out next time. It's reckless.”

“You don't need to worry, handsome.” Tony playfully winked, and you rolled your eyes. But somehow, there was that faint grin on your lips.

You really hoped they were the only ones who're shamelessly fantasizing you. It was already embarrassing when there was three. Now, imagine them being a lot, and I mean a group of them.

Unfortunately for you, it wasn't just your cabinet and your toolbox. Consider them as the warning and the beginning of your endless misery.

Amir considers you as his favourite reflection, and you were flattered. There was never a day he missed just to give you a very honest pep-talk, showering well-deserved compliments in hopes to boost your confidence. He was a man filled with honesty, and you liked that.

So honest that he imagined you looking at the mirror—him, to be exact—and see both of your reflections on how he was working himself inside you.

Whispering to your ear about how good you are to him. Tears would eventually pour on your cheeks when embarrassment washes over you. Don't worry, you're doing so well. He'll just have to kiss those tears away. You'll be fine, azizam.

“Woah!” Your hand slipped by the bathroom mirror when you were wiping off the steam, hunching over the sink.

You were trying to catch your breath from the sudden slip as Amir's thoughts were long-forgotten. Almost.

“Are you alright, azizam?” You hear him popping beside you. His hand was on your back, and you shut your eyes in hopes to block his thoughts away.

“Uhm, never better.” You croaked nervously.

Speaking of slipping…

It was your fault why Daisuke was chipped. You really didn't mean to trip to cause him trouble. But it happened anyway, and he unfortunately disliked you for it. It was the inevitable. Now here you are, doing errands for him left and right.

This also include sparing a couple of minutes after deliveries where you would give him a massage. His chip is equivalent to a strain on his ankle, and now you kinda owe him one after he caught you.

You offered one after writing poetry with him, and surprisingly, he didn't decline. He seems to like the idea.

Your hands worked their way to his ankle with gentleness as you kneaded on the sore area. That's when you can sense eyes boring on the top of your skull. His eyes were filled with intent. So much so that it almost made you squirm.

Now, Daisuke was thinking how thrilling it would be if you'd work on his cock instead. Placing both hands on either side of your head, petting your hair as he gently encourages you to keep bobbing.

Shaky exhales would slip out of him as he watched with keen eyes how your tongue was lapping against his base and then to the tip. Messily coated with your saliva and tears glistened at the corner of your eyes.

You can feel your jaw tightening whenever he softly buck his hips until his tip reached to the back of your throat. He'll hum in satisfaction.

“Oh, are we already finished?” Daisuke asks when he misses the warmth of your hands on his ankle. Tilting his head and reaching out to pat your mop of hair out of gratitude.

You nodded and you didn't raise your head. Refusing to let him see your flustered state from the base of your neck to your forehead.

“Y-yeah..!” Your voice ended up oddly high-pitched.

You were exhausted hearing the fantasies whenever they needed your help, and it sometimes wouldn't let you rest properly by how ingrained it was to the back of your mind. You'd remember every movement whenever silence greeted you, and it was excruciating.

The choice of avoiding them wouldn't be a nice decision either, that only makes you a bad homeowner. And you don't want that to happen.

That's why you craved other activities instead when you're free for the day. Fortunately for you, Chance and Parker seem to know how to have fun with their specialties.

You just wanted to have fun, having to play or not, but just enough to distract you.

Chance suggested making character sheets. What a great idea. It really is a great idea. The three of you huddled in a close circle together and let teamwork work on its own.

This was pretty much the best distraction you could ever ask for and you can let your ideas sculpt your character into your will.

Everything seemed fine at first.

But everything went downhill when Parker brushed his knee against yours. It stayed that way until he imagined you both playing twisters. Stripping yourselves from every clothing or accessories you were both wearing whenever someone gets a turn. Until it leaves you both in your boxers.

You still expect Chance is innocent? Tell that to him when his was roleplay. Which was worse than Parker. This man who's a freak in the interior imagines you wearing a warrior's armour with a cloak behind you.

You laid on the floor sideways, struggling with a fierce glare that matches well with your gruff character. You didn't move an inch, not when you were tightly bounded by red rop that's wrapped around your chest and your legs. Your arms tightly tied behind you. It was truly a sight in Chance's eyes as both of you grinded your erections in sync.

Both of their fantasies lead to a full-blown, slobbering sex. Obviously. Like how it's always been.

You tried another method of activities, and an idea of doing the extremes would let the adrenaline kick in, and it'll make you forget anything. You hope.

That's why a group of radical individuals popped into your mind. The Hanks. Luckily you were just in time to join them to go windsurfing.

Words couldn't describe how fun it was riding the whirlpools and letting the wind take you away. It felt ecstatic. All of you took turns, round after round as you did so.

It was Hank #4’s turn, while Hank #3 handled the flushing. You stood in anticipation by the sidelines with Hank #5, and all of you cheered for Hank #4, who immediately hollered in excitement when his board spun.

That's when he performed a handstand, and it caused the six of you to express your excitement and applauded.

Hank #5 glanced to you cheering for Hank #4 and couldn't help but let a blush wash over him by how close you were. It was nice to see you this excited. His attention diverted back to the sport while his elbow was unconsciously placed on your shoulder without warning.

He imagined you crying naked above him where he let his cock slowly drag itself out of you. It wasn't just him, but all 5 of them ganging up on you.

Hank #1 was kneeling before your head, his cock enveloped by your saliva, pushing himself in then out eagerly to come inside your mouth. Hank #2 kept himself busy and used your hand to fist himself, and you can feel veins throbbing around your palm, causing your cock to twitch under Hank #4’s care. The blonde was using his hands to pump both of your erection and planted bite marks on your back for display that makes you more fuckable. Meanwhile, Hank #3 was behind you, hands spreading your plush cheeks apart and grind the tip of his cock where Hank #5 was in.

The pleasure became too overwhelming and heated that you didn't notice Hank #3's finger dragging out of your puffy and swollen rim. He guided himself on top of Hank #5.

Until without warning, he thrust his hips forward and sparks of pleasure made you arch your back and moan around Hank #1. The ginger chuckles to himself when he can see the both of their cocks buried to the hilt inside your ass. You can feel them throbbing inside you as your knees buckled again, and whines seeped out of your lips.

Hank #5 begins to thrust, and so does Hank #3. Both were synchronised in their thrusts, and their girth inside you was tormenting. Hank #5 watches as tears glistened your cheeks and cum smeared your lips. The dazed look on your face tells him that you were too cock-drunk to comprehend anything and the way your eyes rolled to the back of your skull causes him to thrust harder. Then—

“AGGGHHHHHHH!”

That was your last straw.

You were tired, exhausted even when the thought of sex would always and unfortunately pops into your mind. It gets worse when you were talking to the individual who was making those fantasies about you.

And you couldn't even get to jack off anywhere in the house due to embarrassment, and to the knowledge that everyone is alive and is watching you.

The worst part was, it was inevitable to not touch anyone. You actually have to if you want to help and eventually read their mind whether you like it or not.

You wanted to drink, maybe a glass or two would suffice.

You still come by the Breaker Box after resetting Volt to help around, which they finally didn't mind. It's been a week since, and they both see you as a 'friend' they held dearly and who's also as supportive for their needs.

You have just finished fixing the wires backstage and tiredly slumped on the stool as Eddie quickly fixed you a drink.

“Tired?” He asks and pours non-alcoholic drinks to concoct a mocktail. You nodded in response and let yourself tiredly lean back to the counter. Eddie carried your drink along with his as he sat down on the stool beside you.

Eddie slips your drink to you as you thanked him. You drank your mocktail in peace, the air between you was nothing but comfortable. It was silent for a moment. Peaceful, even.

The kind of silence that you craved for weeks after being spoonfed by never-ending dirty thoughts on accident. You just wanted to spend your days like these.

Coming by the Breaker Box was a really good idea.

Although, lady luck seems to hate you when Eddie's elbow brushes against your finger—wrapped around your drink—on the bar counter.

There you are, your back pinned on Volt's chest as you could feel his hands fondling your clothed erection. His teasing touch left you whining, wanting him to do something more. Eddie stood in front of you. You watch him drink his rum before he hastily pressed his lips to yours in a heated kiss. The rum he kept within his mouth poured from the corners of your mouth, his tongue swirling against yours to shove the flavour to your system.

The coil on your pelvis worsened when you let out a startled groan when Volt began to stroke your cock, flaccid with your pre-cum. You whined under Eddie who held your head in his vice grip, and kept pushing himself to you until your back pressed against Volt who tightened his hand around your poor cock. While the other wrapped itself around your arms to prevent you from doing anything.

You were helpless in between them.

Tears pricked your eyes when Eddie wouldn't let you catch your breath and the pleasure that Volt teased you with felt excruciating. You to buck against his hand in desperation and Volt laughs in amusement from your sudden initiation. Whereas Eddie exhales a guttural groan, before his lips finally leave yours.

The man before you scoffs in satisfaction, and he savored the sight of your slumped figure. You were breathing heavily after your release, tears soaked your cheeks, and your eyes drooped from pleasure. A complete mess.

To Eddie, it was a sight to behold—

The sudden scrape of glass on the counter immediately snapped Eddie out of his thoughts. He glanced beside him to see you ingesting your drink with one full swig.

How your Adam's apple bobbed as you swallowed every last drop of the drink he made you might drive him closer to the edge. Almost.

Once you set your glass down, he can see the flush radiating from the base of your neck to your forehead. You look out of it by how your eyes narrowed in frustration and your brows furrowed until Eddie could see a wrinkle right in-between.

“Do you have something stronger?”

You returned to your room for the night. But you didn’t reach your bed and instead slumped down on the floor right beside the door. A prolonged sigh left you, swallowing onto nothing unnecessarily but the ghostly flavor of your drink.

You just couldn't help but think that you were spiralling into madness. Too uncertain on what to do with them with every bit of your sanity on the line.

Including what to do with your ability.

You reek of alcohol, but you were able to think just fine when you did so. There was a sigh of distress again, pouring out of you that ended with a groan.

You were thinking so hard to the point you started mumbling under your breath for the nth time.

“You looked bothered, friend. Something on your mind?”

You glanced to see Dorian crouching beside you with a quiet wonder. The look on his face, however, remained as stoic as usual. His elbows were resting on his knees, and his forearms extended before him.

There was an evident strain on your grin. “Kinda? I’m sorry… There's been a lot on my mind lately. I mean, numerous.”

“Ah, yes. The good old mind reading.” Dorian hummed, and he immediately didn't miss the way your head slowly turned to face him.

He almost smirks once he sees the bewildered look on your face. Words betrayed you, and he took it as an opportunity to continue.

“It's been a while since you've done that… considering you’ve been isolating yourself inside your house.” He mused, and he watched as you blinked away the shock.

“How did you… know that?” You readjusted your slumped posture in hinted interest and sat on your knees. You were whispering at this point.

Dorian let out an amused scoff. “Do you expect I didn't hear your mumbling complaints whenever you bash your head on me, would you?”

The tone he used was far from his usual one, it sounded as if he knew.

He does. You had this habit that you needed to fix, venting how terrible your abilities are and how it was torturing you with certain thoughts of other dateables fantasizing about you.

You were lucky he was the only one who knew you can read minds.

Meanwhile, you found yourself stammering in defense and words tumbled out in a rush, as if you couldn't contain your embarrassment any longer.

You do remembered all the muttering and lightly bashing of your head on him. But you couldn’t help it. You were trying to get a grip after all that happened.

“Dorian, no one has to know about this.” You moved closer to him, and your hand made its way to grip his arm. It wasn't as tight, just pleading.

“Of course, no one has to.”

Dorian’s voice seems to drop an octave lower than normal, and he stands up from his crouching stance until the points of his shoes brush against your knees. You watched him, too dumbfounded to react on whatever Dorian was trying to do.

He intimidatingly towered over your kneeling figure with newfound confidence, and you were caught off guard when he extended his hand to you. Snaking his fingers around the trail of hair on your nape, caressing it tenderly.

You stuttered his name, too flustered to form words. Dorian looked like he was enjoying this. He is actually, now that he finally sees you flushed in the face because of him. He was watching you for a while now, and he's finally satisfied from all the waiting he had to endure.

There will be no other opportunity to see you like this, and he wanted to savour it before anyone else does.

Nevertheless, Dorian's hand slightly tightened at the back of your neck, and you realized the gravity of the situation when you found yourself facing his crotch coincidentally.

Then, he smirked when you noticed.

"What do you say we reenact those naughty fantasies of theirs, hm? Let me be your first?"

Spring.

Skylar questions, but in truth, she was uncertain in her Realized form. You have done your job realizing all of your household objects, your bulletin board was filled with their pictures, leaving hers as the last piece of your collage of love.

They have already gone their ways and parted, leaving the house to inspire others in the way you've inspired them in more ways than one. Now, it was her turn to do the same.

“Of course. The house might be less lively but I'll manage.”

The woman who was once your spectacles gazes her eyes to your own, the very part she was allured by you. Your eyes. The very same ones that look at the deepest part of them that were nothing but kind, friendly, and loving.

It was you who gave them purpose, gave them hope and you were also the one who listened, trusted and felt them the most. Your eyes were the ones that made everything for them possible.

“I'm sure you'll make the world a better place, Skylar.”

The world is already a better place because of you.

And to her, your eyes weren't easy to forget.

Parting with Skylar left a sinking feeling within your chest, and you almost felt lost. But the thought of your once household objects became someone they wanted to be left an even deeper feeling, warmth and adoration. You couldn’t thank them enough for keeping up with you all these years.

They were your family, some friends, some lovers, yet you love them all the same. You watched them strive in their own ways and you would always be the first person to know about it. Even if it's through calls, letters, messages or whatnot.

Summer.

Nevertheless, the house feels undeniably empty. There's no one to greet you with their silly yet wholesome antics to catch your attention or come to spend time with you now. Even during the midst of summer. Every corner felt wider, and every object was surprisingly quiet that you can hear a pin drop.

You miss them.

You were uncertain if it's from the feeling that you needed to feel wanted by others in order to function properly, or you just discovered you have the underlying fear of abandonment. Attachment issues could possibly be one of the cards on the table.

You just missed the house being lively. Just like the old days.

However, just as those days passed by in the blink of an eye, your thoughts couldn't help but wander. Wondering what would happen if you decided to keep them as your objects and unintentionally caging them in this birdcage.

Would they still feel content to live with you? Or would they feel entrapped to spend every waking breath with you? Would they deem you as a selfish person if you did? Would they hate you…?

You suddenly felt guilty for thinking that way and shame flooded the pits of your stomach. It was such a selfish thought to think of. It was obvious that they would hate you.

But you loved them too much to keep them. You just couldn't be selfish, not when they have their own dreams to achieve and more emotions to feel on their own accord. You were aware that their emotions and knowledge have its limits, you knew because they served most of their lives as your objects and they were unable to experience the world outside.

You wanted them to experience the real thing. The one thing you couldn't take them away from. Even if it meant you couldn't go out on your own.

In the end, you kept those feelings to yourself.

You got your job back from its limbo state and became the vice president of the human experience in Valdivian. The degree of customer service that you fought and studied so hard for, served its purpose. After a couple of months in the company, you started to advocate for human employment against the technology after almost being replaced by one. AI.

You strived on your own with the passion of your found-family fueling your veins with the world continuing on alongside you.

Leaving your house wasn't easy, but you did it anyway. You've gone to work and spent some of your time in meetings, or at your cubicle. Maybe you can send a request to work from home, that would be a good idea. Just because you have tasted what it's like to meet a lot of people outside the comforts of your home, doesn't mean your social anxiety dissipates that easily.

It became a little cycle of work, especially Tom, your recent manager, would come by your office. Grabbing some coffee, or handing you papers, he even has the confidence to flirt with you during work hours. Although, you brush it off and be professional about his advances. You became on friendly terms with the muscular hunk despite his flirting.

You pressed on with this new aspect of your life, challenging yourself and seeing how far you've reached.

Autumn.

Despite acknowledging the changes for the better, your work and your role in Valdivian has never been an easier job. Similar to the season that brings the coldness to light. Every time you thought that your work would become so easy, it didn't. At least not yet. It was only a hurdle after another.

Finishing documents kept you awake, important calls left you on the brink of starvation, and meetings exhausted you to no end. You were efficient in your work since you love helping others but it seems to drain you mentally for the past few weeks. It won't stop that easily, nor stop any time soon.

And one individual noticed. Mac.

They applied for a job that matched their technological skills for income to support both of you, even though you’ve made it clear that you don't need the money. The company accepted their application and both you and Mac were ecstatic to hear the news when they hired them as an analyst in the crypto-currency industry.

It was all because of your support. They even gawked at your efforts when you decided to expand the office closet for Mac to work in. It was a perfect working space for their wheelchair and the privacy they need, the shadows and the darkness altogether. You just moved the remnants from that lonely place to other available closets. You knew Dorian would be proud.

All was well, Mac thought. You even installed a stair lift for them and they have never felt more seen. Both of you enjoyed your meals together while you both took turns, though it was you who cooked often. Sleeping in the same bed and waking up in each other’s arms. And even taking a bath or a shower together.

However, despite your efforts, Mac noticed that you were being swept by work everyday. They admit their work can be time-consuming and busy as they type in codes or whatnot. But you were even busier than them. To the point you skipped your meals.

“Oh, I'll have to take this call real quick. It might be about the presentation tomorrow. Be right back.”

“Sorry, Mac. I have to run. There's another deadline that came up. Do you want anything that I could get you from the store?”

And then another, then another. Repeat.

You've been burying yourself with work in the past few weeks, deadlines, meetings, emergency calls and whatsoever. It was like a rabbit hole for you to sink through. You go to work every morning with your eyes hollow from the lack of sleep and come back home even more exhausted.

You already missed a reasonable amount of calls from the others who were still updating you even in the tiniest bit. Unread letters, packages that were left unopened, both filling your mailbox entirely. And someone could swim in them any time.

All of them, including Mac, knew that you love helping others until it would reach to a point that you become someone to please others. And also deep down, they knew you missed being wanted, being with all of them. Now, it explains why you were so engrossed at your work.

That's also why Mac immediately contacted their office buddies.

It was another one of those evenings where you got off from work. But this specific night was different and Mac made sure for it to be. They contacted the others, mainly the office residents, to have a fun game night. Of course, Chance and Parker were the experts so they were willing to come.

Jerry and Penelope also came. As for Dasha, they weren't entirely sure due to her busy schedule but she says she'll come straight away after work. All of the food preparations are done, pre-ordered obviously but what can they say? All of them probably can't cook.

“Are the games ready? We have to make this as efficient as possible.” The curly-haired female demanded in a frantic voice. She clearly wants this to be a success. Just for you.

Jerry sweat-dropped. “You've already asked us that a couple of times now.” He couldn't always keep up with Penelope's intensity as she eyed the office desk filled with items of what could be G&G instead of your computer.

Meanwhile, on the other side of your office were Chance and Parker, both in their usual banter. Parker kept being persistent in what games to play, and Chance almost had enough of it.

“We should play… this! Or this? They sure would like… this!”

“Dude. We already agreed on what to play.” Chance sighs. “We’ll resort to your games after we're done with the oneshot.”

“Alright, fine!” The latter groans.

“Hey, I think they're here!” Mac chimed in when all of them fell silent when they heard the front door open. Parker, as enthusiastic as he is, immediately rushed out of the office followed by everyone.

But what they didn't expect was a loud gasp from the game-board addict as they were greeted by a shocking sight. You came home dishevelled and were barely unconscious in the arms of a muscular and dark-skinned hunk, wearing what could be a Valdivian I.D.

The unknown individual was rather surprised to see them, yet unfazed by their shocked expressions.

“Hey, there! I didn't expect anyone in their house at this hour!”

“Who are you, himbo?!” Parker was quick to exclaim.

Penelope wasn't having it either. “A better question… What are you doing with them, huh?”

“I'm Tom! [name]’s recent manager! Nice to meetcha’!” The recent manager seems clueless at the protective gaze being sent his way. He doesn't seem bothered by it. “I take it you guys are…?”

“We're their family.” Mac slightly narrowed their eyes at the man. Guarded by any means necessary while your coworker was still holding you.

When they were objects, they wouldn't be as jealous easily whenever you interact with the other objects around the house. Some already have flings with each other and some treat you as their third or whatever.

But it truly bothered them to see you with another, especially outside the house, to be intimate with. Even though it wasn't your intention to be. Tom looked like he was, though, his hand gripping your waist to steady you with your arm around his neck.

“What happened to them exactly?” Jerry timidly asks.

“Oh, this little champ right here? They took the whole team out for drinks since their first proposal was a success.” Tom shrugged and they were a bit surprised at how far you've already come with your efforts. Despite losing a small bit of yourself.

“I've come to take them home because they're wasted. Should I bring them upstairs or…?”

Chance shook his head. “That's alright. I'll take them.”

Tom handed you in Chance's arms with no question. A few gibberish noise left you when Chance lifted you by the back of your knees and back. You're exhausted and slurred. Your coworker eventually left with the reassurance that you can come to work late for 15 minutes tomorrow.

Chance carried you to bed with the help of others. Cue, Parker's distraught mumbling of you being a ‘cheater’ while poor Jerry was trying to ease both Parker and Penelope's paranoia. This was supposed to be a fun night to let some exhaustion off, but it seems Mac miscalculated.

They played a few board games when Dasha arrived and parted again for the night for work tomorrow.

But it was evident that one certain thing was bothering you.

Winter.

It's been months since autumn, and that particular day. Waking up by Mac's side in the bed and hungover to the bone. They really helped you from your internal loneliness or selfishness and motivated you to enjoy the things you love.

Whether it would be during your hardships or not, they really helped you a lot. You seem quite content with yourself now. Even work felt lighter during these past few months despite constantly following your routine.

As if the storm passed, a storm one of many.

Work hours already ended, and you were amongst the people who walked along the sidewalk to home. Snow piled against every crevice in the city as cars carefully drove by you to seek warmth of their homes.

Evenings were always cold whenever you walked home, hugging your coat and suitcase close to you. Yearning for warmth to cover your shivering neck.

You couldn't help but wonder. You always feel uncannily safe during winter while walking. It didn't just happen once. There’s always someone walking along with you, an unnoticed presence trailing your every move.

That's when you halted your feet midway and pondered for a bit.

“Jon?” You didn't move nor turn around as you heard footsteps of a stealthy individual right behind you. As if they stepped from the shadows.

“I'm not surprised when you know it's me.”

You softly snickered. “You're once my candelabra and it takes a dedicated homeowner to know the objects around the house.”

His voice paused for a moment. “Good point.”

You shook your head with a light atmosphere between you and continued your walk home. But this time, you were accompanied by the mysterious man behind you. Following you in the shadows and you don't dare to look behind you. The tension is both unwavering.

“So you've been following me around, huh?” You stared ahead, hearing the soles of your feet crunch the snow below. It was cold for a quite while, until your shoulders were enveloped by a warm fabric. A scarf. A red scarf gifted by Jon Wick himself.

“I was just passing by. To see how you're doing.” His voice drew close when he tucked the scarf around your neck, and you heard him step back again.

“That's… sweet.” A smile stretched your lips. “I had my ups and downs with my work if that's not obvious. I take it you're doing well with yours?”

There was a sigh. “If you're going to suggest that I adopt a dog again, you know my response never changes.”

“Oh, come on… You never know for sure whether you like them or not!” You let out a snort, imagining him facepalm behind you.

“[name]...” Jon's voice trailed off in exasperation and you took it as a sign to stop.

“Alright, I don't want to pressure you.” You backed off but your next words caused him to let out a sigh. “I'll just have to try next time.”

Silence, and then… “Fine. Maybe I'll consider it."

That was enough. You cheered to yourself when the man finally gave in through your persuasion. Meanwhile, Jon Wick could only roll his eyes as he kept watch on your back at a safe distance.

Eventually, you both arrived at the bottom porch of your house. A sigh of relief escapes you, and you express your gratitude at the man who you still didn't lay your eyes on to satisfy his secrecy. You walked up to the stairs of your porch but halted when an idea came to mind.

“Would you like to come in?” It was an innocent invitation to have him as a guest, but he didn't take it lightly and snickers under his breath.

“As tempting as it is to release some steam with you…” Cue a flush of red growing from the skin of your neck when you realized. “But I'm sure there's a better surprise waiting for you inside. You might want to take a look.”

“Huh..?” Confused, you turned around to face him for an answer but he was gone. There were no traces of his presence anywhere on the front lawn, as if no one stood in it other than you.

You think back to the words he said and glanced at your front door, as your heartbeat suddenly drummed in anticipation. It somehow felt odd to watch the lights inside gleam, it was tempting you with a welcoming presence.

Your keys jingled and you entered.

“Look who's back. Welcome home, love.”

You stared at the familiar bouncer standing beside the doorway with a look of surprise on your face. He stood guard like never before and he sent you a questioning brow because of the dumbfounded expression.

“Surprised?” You nodded at him as you couldn't find the right words to say, and this caused Dorian to snicker.

“D-davi!”

You heard a distressed call and a strong force crashed to your legs, causing you to tumble backward. The floorboards met your bottom as you couldn't comprehend what happened when something wet tickled your cheeks.

“Davi..?” Giggles bubbled out of you when the dog's tongue smothered you with sweet kisses. Mateo watched the view, smiling when you're back from work. Dorian helped you up and you didn't waste anytime as you immediately embraced them one-by-one.

“Matito? What's going on? The house looks lively.” You were right, it does.

You didn't even notice the joyful chatter that bounced off the walls, footsteps echoing from the ceiling, including the cluttering and sizzling in the kitchen that implies someone was cooking... until now.

“We're here to celebrate the holidays with you!” Mateo exclaims and there was a look of shock flashed over your face again. The house did feel heavy, and now you knew it was because of your visitors.

“Mateo? Is [name] back?” You glanced behind Mateo and two lovely women that were once your ceiling and floor appeared. They look perfect with each other, hand in hand.

“Celia, Florence..!” You happily greet the couple in a hug and both squeezed you right back. The two of them were ecstatic to meet you. Mateo chuckled and exited the scene to give you a moment with them but not before taking your suitcase and scarf upstairs.

“Hello, dear. We're so delighted to see you.” Greeted by elegance herself.

The bubbly woman agrees. “I hope you don't mind celebrating with us and for coming by so suddenly!”

“I don't mind at all! It’s just so sudden…!” You sheepishly scratched the back of your neck until something dawned on you. “Oh, gosh… This didn't disturb your work, right?”

“Calm yourself, dear. It's the holidays, and we like to celebrate our first with you. That's all.” Said Celia, and you smiled sweetly. But then, she was deep in thought. “Actually, it was Mac who invited all of us.”

You were surprised. “They did?”

“They would like to propose something.” Celia said and the look in her eyes already told you that they knew what it was about. “They already talked to us about it. However, it needed your approval.”

You hummed in wonder. “I see… shall we go then?”

“I'll go and find them!” Florence exclaims. “Meet us in your office after a few minutes. You can still go ahead and meet the others.”

Celia nods, quite delighted. “She's right, and you don't need to worry about anything since we already handled the task assignments. Most of them are outside to watch Washford and Drysdale perform in the backyard. It eases the weight around the house.”

You chuckled at Celia's comment before they parted ways to look for Mac in this crowded house. It was somewhat a relief that most of them were in the backyard, you couldn't bear to think the house falling apart if all hundred of them were to actually stand inside.

Celia was right, you don't have to worry about anything when they already did the job quite perfectly. Holly was in charge of the decorations, with the help of strong individuals that could carry her on their shoulder or tall ones that could reach the ceiling.

Stefan and most of the kitchen crew were doing kitchen duty, cooking and making enough beverages for everyone. The dining room was filled with it and you could only hope there were tables in the backyard for everyone to dine together.

Everyone greeted you with wide arms and tight hugs. While some planted kisses onto your face. You were left flustered with their gestures and it felt too good to be true. Roaming around the ground floor, you wanted to know if there's anything to do or help. But they reassured you that they'll handle the rest, much to your dismay.

You went upstairs and you immediately noticed your bedroom door closed but the laughter and talking was clearly heard. The voices contain most of the bedroom crew along with the bathroom crew, talking. Sharing all of the fun experiences they had after finding their paths.

Pride swelled within you when they successfully achieved the things where their own path takes them. They were happy and content despite their own struggles. They were just human with dreams after all.

You didn’t mean to eavesdrop but you were certainly engrossed hearing the travels they all made. Some stories were heavily challenging while some of them were delightful as it sounds. Now you find yourself eavesdropping, as you were too engrossed hearing them so happy, you didn't realize you were in the first place.

Your heart ached for some reason, and you didn’t know why. It was thrilling to hear their adventures, how they strived and chose their own paths. But a thought crept from the back of your mind. You should be happy and yet you feel easily discarded. Too easy to earn your trust, too easy to leave.

No, thinking like this felt so wrong. You thought you'd moved on but clearly you weren't. The feeling of abandonment tightened around your chest, fear returned within you. You couldn't breathe. You couldn't speak.

You hastily turned around to leave.

“If it wasn't for [name], I wouldn't be where I am now.”

Those words made you freeze. You recognized Betty's comforting voice and to your surprise, the others inside followed afterwards. The room was filled with nothing but their exclaims of gratitude. Laughter and chatter ensues in the room. Unbeknownst to them, you heard it all.

They expressed the way you helped them all. It started from your approach for the first time, and you have helped them a lot ever since. It was you who motivated them, it was you who believed in them. It was you who wouldn't dare to give up on them. Always has been.

You were the reason why they became from something to someone.

Through Skylar's words: you've brought a whole lot of love in this world.

Your love brought them.

Your throat felt like it had tightened itself. You then caressed your temple in hopes to calm you down. It slightly did. Hearing those words coming out of them was nothing but overwhelming. Now you feel guilty. For them and for Mac who did everything they could.

You didn't even realize your feet walking to who knows where as your hand caressed your head. Until you bumped into someone. The sensation by how your skin jumped snapped you out of it. Finding yourself staring at Volt, and then Eddie who held a tool by the breaker box.

“Are you alright, live wire?” Volt asks out of concern. It looked like you were out of breath, or had seen something you weren't supposed to.

“Yeah. You look out of it.” Now, it was Eddie. Closing the panels shut and he settled one of the tools down before inspecting your face. The both of them suspected something was up.

“Uhm. Fine…” You shakily exhaled, raking your hair back. “I'm fine…”

Eddie didn't seem convinced. “You don't seem like it.”

“Come here and give us a hug, yes?” Volt spreads his arms as wide to invite you in and you don't hesitate. You did as you were told. Your arms found its way to wrap around Volt's back and buried your head on his chest. It didn't take long when another warmth caressed your side. Eddie.

You savored the hug, even for a moment. Although, it didn't last long when you eventually let go. Missing the way Volt’s face fell when the hug was so surprisingly quick. You weren't always one to let go first and hugging is one of the things you love to do.

“Now, what's going on with that pretty head of yours. Hm?” Volt asked and you shrugged like there was nothing. At least you convinced yourself that it was.

You shook your head with your voice hushed. “The house became quieter than I thought it should've after you guys left."

“I hope you realize that you're not that easy to forget, live wire.” Eddie sighs, and you feel conflicted whether it was to offend you or the opposite.

Volt reassured you the opposite. “He's right. Because of your love and your determination, we wouldn't be where we are if it wasn't for the faith you've given us.”

“I guess what I meant to say was...” Eddie trailed off where a noticeable red flushed his neck. His gaze stilled at yours. “Thank you.”

It was a small gesture, but it did reassure you in many ways. A smile made its way to your lips. You didn't say anything and just pulled them both in an embrace. It was longer than before and it was already enough for the three of you before you simultaneously let go.

“It's been great seeing you guys, really.” A lilt of relief entered your tone as Volt held you by the waist, grinning widely.

“As do we, to you, live wire.” He says. With that, you found your face being smothered by their lips so intimately that others might mistake it as a very sexual gesture. It was far more than that. It was comfortable, reassuring.

You laugh. “We'll catch up later. I still need to see Celia about something.”

“Sure.” Eddie nods and pecks a kiss onto your cheek. “Just find us right after your business. We'll be around.”

You absentmindedly kissed each of their cheeks back and deliberately went downstairs feeling a lot lighter than before. Whatever Mac and Celia wants to talk about, you hope everything will be fine. You trudged to your office to meet with them.

“House Homie!”

You were greeted in your office by five men that immediately tackled you in a group hug, squishing you in the middle. The Hanks look as radical as ever and you almost couldn't breathe if it wasn't for Celia demanding them to let you go. These men had so much energy, she couldn't keep up.

She sighs. “The gentlemen have something important to tell you in regards to the house–”

“We’re staying with you!” The Hanks cuts her off. They couldn't contain any excitement and immediately jumped on you in joy. You couldn't process the news when strong hands engulfed you again like a bunch of puppies. They were everywhere, even Hank #4 was clinging onto your leg while Hank #2 had his arms around your waist.

“Wait, really…?” Your voice came out as muffled when a mop of ginger hair amplified your voice. But there was a hint of shakiness to it. You were really surprised.

“Uh, yeah!”

“Imagine going on adventures with you! Pretty rad!”

“Everyday with you will be nothing but fun!”

“And by fun… we mean it, hot stuff.”

“Alright. Thank you, boys.” Celia sighs out of exasperation once more. “You will be excused. You can bother them later."

This time, the five men listened and exited the room as she wished. Closing the door, there was a sigh from Florence and Celia, and you could only give them apologetic looks before Mac chimed in the conversation. They looked rather somber, and their eyes drooped more than normal.

“I know we haven't been interfacing due to my work, and I would like to apologize–”

“Mac.” You call out to them sternly, guilt washing over you. “You don't have to apologize. If anything, I should be the one apologizing for being stupid and treating you so unfairly.”

You approached them, your conscience gnawing at you relentlessly while it reminded you of your nuisances. The air became slightly tense as you went quiet. You didn't even realize that you took their hand over yours. A squeeze from them helped you slightly calm down.

“I was being selfish. Thinking that every single one of you will forget me. It's… terrifying. Even the thought of you all abandoning me, all alone, it's unbearable."

Your voice lowered a volume as you felt your throat tightening.

"I know this doesn't excuse my behavior. I don't want you to feel like you aren't enough, you are. You really are. I'm sorry..."

The three of them fell silent. Your confession caught them by surprise. The office felt tense and weren't sure if it's you or the room itself, but you certainly felt it spinning. You wouldn't dare say a word after your spiral and your head hung itself low to avoid seeing their faces. They could be judging you, and finding you pathetic.

However, despite no words were exchanged, it didn't happen.

Instead, Celia and Florence looped their arms around you, comforting you with nothing but reassurance and the warmth of their presence. In the middle of the silence, you felt loved, treasured. As if words were exchanged into embrace, burying you in it. Then you felt Mac's thumb caress the back of your palm, soothing your thoughts.

Celia leaned her head to your shoulder. "My dearest, we would never forget nor abandon you. You're too important to all of us."

"She's right. We love you all the same, before and after." Florence patted your cheek so soft that she and Celia hugged you again.

You haven't counted the hugs you've received today, and you were certain it was more than usual. But you aren't complaining. You love every single one of it.

“This proposal I am about to make… Would you like to hear about it?” Once the hug ended, Mac immediately went straight to the point. They seemed a bit happier than earlier. The couple soon lets go and yet their warmth lingering.

You nod at them. “Of course.”

You braced yourself for literally anything and yet you didn't expect for them to take out a large blue sheet with white lines printed on it. Florence helped them settle the sheet on your desk, rolling it as widely as it could. The large print was obviously familiar.

“This is… the house's blueprint.” Your voice was laced with uncertainty, you were rather confused as to why they have this.

Celia nods. “Mac proposed that we should expand the house for more rooms."

"Not only for the Hanks, but for others who wanted to stay.” Florence finishes.

You looked at the couple with another wave of shock flashing through your eyes, and your heart immediately swelled. It caused you to wipe any tears that were threatening to fall. It didn't take long when they started pitching for ideas, including you who suggested some of yours to merge your ideas together and come up with a full-proof plan.

It was doing quite well. And you were excited.

Celia and Florence excused themselves once you all finalized the blueprint. They still wanted to enjoy the celebrations. It leaves you and Mac, enjoying the serene silence as muffled bearings can be heard outside the door. Both of you were quiet for a while, until you heard a faint squeak.

An exhale left Mac's lips, they breathed in. “The identities of future tenants, or roommates, other than the Hanks are still unknown… We could only hope that there would be someone interested.”

“Don't worry. We could always make it as guest bedrooms.” You suggested, turning to reassure them. “I won't be lonely anyways knowing that I have… you.”

Your words felt gratifying, while your lovely smile sent shivers down Mac's spine. You are such a wonderful and kind person, and they love you for that. They just hoped that you would see it for yourself.

To see that a lot of them keeps you as someone important in their lives. They wouldn't dare to leave you.

“Are you sure about this? Won't this disrupt your work?” Your tone, growing anxiously, interrupts their thoughts.

“I made sure that it wouldn't. As long as we keep the bed to ourselves, then I have no objections whatsoever.” A snort escapes them. They didn't mean anything behind it. Mac just wanted to have you all by themself once it was time to go to bed to let their disquietude wash away.

Being in your arms at the end of the day was all they wanted.

You smiled. But Mac with their keen eyes saw through it when a faint smirk played at the corner of your lips. “I'll make sure to pay attention to you later after we're done. I wouldn't want you to feel… neglected.”

If Mac was still a computer now, they would comment how you made their CPU overheat and yet they didn't. Too speechless and rather excited to let words come out. Even their own flirtatious comebacks betrayed them. Mac stays silent, they were glad to finally see this spark in you.

The only thing they can do for now is to accompany you outside to enjoy a lot of activities planned by the others. Where a lot of them will be waiting for you. Even Jean Loo, who will be performing tonight despite being the one taking care of your taxes, and this may be the best time to stop him from doing so before you get carried away.

Everything in the house was planned to your enjoyment, a way to express their own gratitude for being there with them.

Either it was away from you, or not, they will hold your name dearly. Even if it is through the hardships they have to face. You always held them close to your heart as the precious individuals that made your life better, and so as they.

If there was one thing they have taught you: Home is really where the heart is.

And to them, you will always be their home.

Skylar insisted that you should talk to one of your doors or any doors around the house to demonstrate how the dateviators work. She didn't even give you the time to mourn over your job being replaced by artificial technology. On literally your first day of work.

But, dateviators? Silly, right? The ability to speak to objects was impossible, let alone date them. You were skeptical at first, but you then decided to give it a shot. It's not every day to receive something like this anyway.

That's how you immediately came face to face with his cold expression and stern eyes. Your door. The very same door that you bought while renovating this house and claim it as yours. 

You were sure you're still in the comforts of your home. 

However, the tall stranger before you was entirely different. He looked like a door, your front door, but… humanized? How in the world. The stranger was clad in black with the edges of his jacket looking like doorframe pillars, and he was wearing a doorknob watch too. He was guarding the door like a stern bouncer, and it seems that he already is one.

“No funny business. I don't want to see those spectacles of yours being used for something untoward.”

You almost held a hand on your chest in shock. Why in the world does your door have a deep, British accent?

He watched you with such intensity that you wanted to shrink away, but you didn't. You stood your ground. This was your door for heaven's sake. Before something escalated, Skylar managed to step in-between you, giving Dorian her salutations.

“Hey, Dorian! Trust me, this is going to go super well!” She beamed, she was rather excited in contrast to Dorian's expression.

There was a smirk on his lips as his eyes flickered from her to you. “Are you sure about that?”

“I'm still… trying to comprehend what's going on.” You shrugged. Feeling a tad bit small under his scrutinizing gaze.

How did everything end up like this?

However, it's been a week since your first introductions. Not only to the door but your phone, magnifying glass, and bed as well. You can still remember your embarrassment when you found out you were sleeping on a beautiful woman this entire time. One of the inanimate people who have seen you in your vulnerable moments.

But Betty, the sweetheart she is, assured you that she was fine by it. Thank goodness.

You've learned quite a lot of things over the week. About the dateviators, and Dorian especially. The sole authority of the house that ensures nothing bad will happen under his watch. Keeping the good ones in, and the bad ones out. 

It wasn't a surprise when you learned he's a big defender of friendship and treasures it instead of love. 

That's because, to him, love is the center of all conflicts.

Honestly, you highly respected his philosophy. It also makes sense. After all, he's a door. If you put it metaphorically as a self-insert writer, doors meant he wasn't the open type. You speculated that he's a closed door who conceals a vulnerable part of himself. Hence, his guarded personality.

Not only that, but he gives it his all to protect everyone in the house and that includes you. How can you not respect him?

You have never looked someone in high regard before, and you're glad it was Dorian. That's when you started to respect his boundaries and decided to be his friend. He wasn't against the idea of course, it was his intention from the start and you've never been more glad.

“The neighbor's dog pissed on your lawn again.” In a gruff voice, he raised a brow at the said owner and dog that walked by your house. As if they hadn't done anything wrong. 

“What?! Again?” You popped beside him and looked out the window.

He nodded. “It’s the third time this week. I kept my count.”

“I might have to take care of that before my lawn smells.” You dragged your hand across your face, face-palming. “Thanks, anyways.”

Dorian snickered when your shoulders sagged and took the dateviators off, a groan leaving your lips. You spent most of your afternoon trying to clean the lawn and save it from the smell of dog piss. Meanwhile, Dorian was enjoying your struggle and groans of complaints like a good friend he is.

“I know you're laughing at me, Dorian!” 

For once, the door chuckled. All because of your misery.

There was one thing you didn't realize though, and it happened when you're trying to take a shower. Your day proceeds like any other day, either after or before the dateviators. Although, after knowing that everything in the house is sentient, you became quite self-conscious of yourself.

You would often hesitate to use one of them. Either you're eating or sleeping, and anything else. Your daily business in the bathroom is probably the most vulnerable state that you would expose yourself to. 

You hoped Johnny wouldn't mind you showering, since cleaning around the house was causing you to break a sweat.

Which leads you to enter the ground floor bathroom, your towel in hand and some other toiletries that you picked from upstairs. Johnny already has most of them so you don't have to fret for anything. 

You stripped and pulled your shirt off of you first. You can't understand why you struggled for a moment once the hem went over your head, but you paid it no mind. You neatly fold your shirt and set it aside from getting it wet. You can already feel the bathroom chill on your exposed torso.

“Are you forgetting something?” You heard Dorian's gruff voice by the door and you let out a noise of confusion.

“Forgetting what?” Dorian seems to catch your clueless head and nods at the shower stall at the corner. You follow him, and see Johnny leaning to his mic with a smirk on his lips. Confused, you turned to Dorian again to ask for his help. 

The door can almost see the question marks starting to pop above you.

He raised a brow. You raised yours.

“Wh-? Oh… Oh!”

Embarrassment immediately flooded your senses and you flush. You didn't even realize that you still had the dateviators on. It makes sense when you're struggling to pull your shirt off earlier.

“Wow, I didn't even notice!” You sheepishly scratched your neck and Dorian seemed pleased when you finally did. The dateviators had become your eyes at this point for how much you spent time with it and the others.

“I don't mind sharing the moment with you, sweet papa! But I wouldn't want to spoil your fun. Uh-huh!” You turned to Johnny who offered you a wink as you thanked him with a light chuckle.

“Thanks for letting me know.” You beamed and Dorian nodded in response.

“Of course. I am the ground floor bathroom door after all. Do enjoy.”

His exact words kept replaying in your mind that day, and despite failing to notice the dateviators during that interaction, you did realize something else instead. 

It was Dorian, and the many Dorians around the house. The bathrooms, the front door, the back door, and so much more. Just how many doors does the house have again?

“I kinda forgot…” You muttered under your breath. Deep in thought.

This led you to come up with a mission. It was to interact with every version of Dorian around the house at all costs. Oh, you couldn't wait to make fun of him after he enjoyed your suffering. The smell of dog piss actually lingered on your arm for a couple of hours that day and you can really feel the intense smirk he gave you from his hinges.

It wouldn't hurt to have some fun.

The other day arrived, and front Dorian seemed to notice a little bounce on your step than usual. He wondered what got you excited but unbeknownst to him, it wasn't what he had in mind.

“Running off, are we?” He asked once you came down the stairs. He wanted to ask if you're spending the time with the others. Obviously you would, of course. He just wanted to be subtle.

“That's because I have a mission to do.” You grinned in playful smugness. A dramatic hand was on your chest.

He raised a brow. “Oh yeah? Do tell, friend.”

“That's the point… I can't tell you!” You waved a hand dismissively and let a chuckle escape you. “See you later, Dorian!”

With that, Dorian watched with a raised brow as you stormed off in a hurry to the kitchen. You seemed so enthusiastic about your mission, and he just hoped you won't get into trouble.

Little did he know, he could already feel a small twinge forming in his chest.

You immediately found the difficulty of meeting the other Dorians since you only get to meet them once a day. However, you didn't bother to stop, rather, it excites you even more to see his various forms.

It was actually a fun and exciting experience than what you've imagined. It's as if all of them were one and the same, but were split into different parts of him.

The gym door admits that he was eager to see you strengthen yourself, while the bedroom closet thanked you by separating Harper from Dirk or what the clean laundry claims to be as Clarence. It was for the best to separate them for every once in a while, everyone deserves peace from the shouting. Aside from the bedroom closet, there was also the bedroom Dorian himself.

That's not all though. The attic Dorian has weirdos in his room and you had suspected it was Artt, Hector and Memoria in there. Then the electric closet Dorian, who warned you about the miscreants that he kept in there, despite you already knowing who the so-called miscreants are.

Every Dorian looked the same, if it wasn't for the ironing board closet. Now imagine to your surprise when you see the smallest Dorian you have ever seen with a big head. He was so small he needed to stand on a stool.

You fought back your laughter when he spoke in his usual deep British voice, finding it hilarious. Even the small Dorian can hear you snickering from a mile away, yet he does nothing. Knowing that you meant no harm.

“I'm still a door. Not a cabinet. Not a hatch. A door, and just as much as the rest of them.” Says the smallest Dorian.

Dorian was surprisingly not the stern and cold door you ought him to be. It was refreshing to witness the other sides of him and you were quite enjoying yourself conversing with them as well.

But there were also doors who were solemn to have small spaces or scared of being forgotten. Just like the office closet and laundry closet Dorians whom you found sulking when you approached them.

You were unaware that your house had so many doors until you met dozens of them, seventeen to be exact. You didn't regret talking to them one bit. You just hoped your constant visits and lending them your ears can give them the company they need. Greeting them with a genuine smile once you approach them.

How can you resist? You always feel a great sense of urgency when they need something. That's what a good friend would do, helping out a friend in need.

Your mission went on for several days due to the many doors this house has, and the more you were busy, the more front Dorian noticed. He was starting to question your absence. You don't usually proceed with your day without greeting him first and then bleed his ears out with your current fixations.

You're always there to greet him whenever you pass by. Sometimes you talk about things that were relevant with his work or ask him questions about the house, even though he doesn't have much to talk about. 

You would always stand there beside him, pleased with your conversation no matter how bland it’d be. You don’t pry on him and you certainly don't force himself to open up. You were patient.

Like what a good friend would do.

But… What if his perception of you has changed?

He would always see the glimpse of your hair or your arm strutting to who knows where. Whether it would be upstairs or downstairs. Watching you talk with the others with that dopey grin on your lips would trigger the same little twitch that tightens in his chest.

It was slow but it was there. He can't simply acknowledge it that easily.

Every hour once the day started, he would grow anxious, and he was so good at keeping it to himself like how it's always been. Did he somehow show the slightest bit of annoyance while you rambled? If he did, then he's sorry. He'll try harder and better at paying attention next time.

If it means for him to have something to look forward to, he'll gladly lend his ear just for you.

“Damn it all…” A breathy grunt escaped Dorian.

A hand made its way to his mouth, covering them as if he had confessed to a crime. It’s not like he acknowledged or admitted it. No, he didn't, but he did think about it. It was there, present and persistent to come to light.

Dorian can only shove those thoughts to the back of his head. You were his friend, and a damn good one at that. Whoever this person you choose, who's undeserving of your love, he'll promise to be there for you. Even if his chest tightens and his hinges rusts.

Because that's what a good friend would do.

Hurried and muffled footsteps caused Dorian's ears to perk up. He looked over to where it was and saw you exiting your office instead, closing the door rather harshly than before. You looked like you were out of breath, you were chasing for it, and that's when he immediately knew something happened. 

The way your hands anxiously reached your face to smoothen the stress, and how you let your full weight lean back against the door. Your legs felt numb and weak to carry your weight. If Dorian hadn't looked closely, he would’ve missed the intense blush washing over you like a damn bloodbath.

You were downright flushed and it confuses him even more.

Dorian would've asked what happened but he can't talk to you. Not when the dateviators are dangerously secured in your grip. Yet he flinches when both of you make eye contact, knowing well you can't see him without the glasses. He was appalled whilst your eyes widened in response. 

There's no way you know he's watching you right?

You were actually thinking the same thing, horrified that Dorian was in the hall and watching you. That's when you clumsily straightened your posture before you ran upstairs in a hurry. Leaving Dorian with a worried Skylar, the woman watching as you left.

“Who’s the bloke that forced themselves on him?” He asked with narrowed eyes, his voice were firm along with his protective demeanor. Meanwhile, his hands formed into fists. Your expression was far from normal.

“It’s nothing like that.” Skylar shook her head. “He was really determined to talk to every door in the house for the past few days and…” 

Dorian's eyes widened at the pink-haired woman’s words and for a moment, his breath hitch as a hushed whisper. The sudden heat that was creeping on his face didn't even help. 

He knew where this was going and he let Skylar continue.

“And [m/n]... might've encountered the trapdoor under the rug.”

It's been two days ever since then, and you were acting quite normally than what Skylar had intended you to be. The poor dateviators couldn't help but worry at the tired expression on your face with dark circles under your eyes, implying that you haven't slept a wink.

It seems she wasn't the only one. Everyone was quick to notice your slumped posture and exhausted eyes, you weren't even eating properly these days and it concerns them. You were always stuck in a daze whenever you're with an object, absentmindedly nodding along and offering a sluggish reply.

“Amore mio, shall I ask for Mitchell to make something for you?” Cabrizzio would ask whenever you would take a glass from him to quench your thirst, and you would decline.

“Ah. I'm not hungry. Thanks anyways, Cabrizzio.”

“My processors think it's best for you to rest your eyes for a while. You can always continue writing once you wake up…” Mac suggests when they found you staring at your desktop screen rather intently, eyes bloodshot.

“Don't worry, Mac. My eyes are still intact.”

“Would you like me to freshen your face tonight, dear? I have just the perfect face mask that I want you to try out.” Offered by Barry and despite his warm smile, you would shake your head.

“Maybe for another time, Barry. Thank you though.”

It was one after the other whenever the objects would express their worries, and you would always find an excuse to get yourself out of it. All of them had watched you neglecting your health for days now, and you wouldn't let them intervene. Either with the dateviators or not.

It was already obvious that something was bothering you, but they couldn't grasp what. And Dorian had enough of it. He had enough seeing you destroy yourself over time. He had enough of the bitter taste when you're trying to avoid him.

The truth has to come out either way.

“I'll talk to him.” He says when he found himself standing in-between Betty and Skylar who were talking about your sleep. You already retreated to your bedroom a few minutes earlier and Betty knew you were struggling to sleep either way.

“Really?” Skylar stood in agape.

“He's been at it for a while now. We have to talk either way.” Dorian said and hoped he could find the right words. It's been so long since he opened up to anyone and yet he knew from the back of his mind, you're worth opening up to.

Betty smiled softly at him. “Don't worry… I'll make sure to let Amir and the others know to give you some privacy.”

The bedroom was cascaded in pitch darkness, letting you find comfort in the cold void and the shadows. You couldn't sleep and you were struggling to do so. Your thoughts would always keep you awake every night and it forces you to ponder literally everything.

The dateviators, the silly mission… and Dorian.

You don't want to admit it, and you don't want to acknowledge it. There was only shame and embarrassment whenever you thought of it, especially after you discovered the trapdoor in your office. Everything you felt about Dorian came crashing like bricks.

Fuck. Well, there goes your best friend of the year award.

You were supposed to be his friend. Just his friend. Your thoughts drowned you to the trenches and couldn't help that there was something blossoming within you. It was so wrong to feel like this to someone who sees you as their friend, let alone unable to reciprocate.

There was a knock.

“May I come in?”

You immediately went quiet upon hearing the familiar voice waiting for your response right behind the door. You almost cursed to yourself for letting this happen. For letting these feelings happen. Although, you know you can't run away from him forever.

“Go ahead…” Your reply was hushed, and that was all it took before the door of your bedroom opened, letting the hallway lights peek into the darkness of your dim-lighted room.

Dorian, once he entered, saw your silhouette sitting at your bedside. Your shoulders slumped and your hair sticking in all kinds of directions.

It was already a mistake to let him in. You still haven't found the slightest bit of courage to face him by how your head was hung low, afraid to see Dorian eye-to-eye. Along with the nonexistent strength of admitting your feelings to him. There was only quiet, and it was the opposite of peaceful. 

“I came here to apologize.” His voice cuts through the awkward silence that makes you flinch. Your eyes widened and you didn't dare to meet his sunken ones.

“What are you apologizing for?” It came as a mutter, Dorian almost couldn't hear you but he stood firm.

“For making you uncomfortable… Skylar told me what happened.” Dorian watched you shake your head.

“I wasn't uncomfortable.” You raked a hand over your scalp. You didn't even realize what you said and didn't notice the way Dorian's eyes widened. Too engrossed on your feet trying to avoid the burning gaze from him.

You sighed, still not meeting his gaze. “I was going to tell you eventually, the mission or whatsoever. It was supposed to be for fun and games between us friends. Teasing and joking, it's what we usually do. It's what friends do…”

Dorian stood silent, hoping for your lips to spill the truth. But what came out of you was the opposite, and the least of what he was expecting.

“I don't think we can be friends anymore, Dorian.”

From how intact your words were, he was uncertain how to react. Your voice didn't waver and he wasn't sure if you were lying or not. All he knew was he couldn't let you end your friendship like this. Everything was going smoothly between you before, and he doesn't want to lose that.

Just the thought of it makes his fist clench.

“Why is that?” His voice came out as harshly as he intended to, and the look on your face contorted to frustration and pain. Guilt swelled in him and you exhaled shakily.

“Look…” Your voice was as brittle as old paper. “I care for you, I respect you a lot. I wanted to be the friend that you'll rely on and yet, for every passing moment I spent with you, or clearly the other forms of you, it made me feel I was crossing a line more than it should have…”

Your words hung in the air for a moment. The confession clothed in painful restraint.

Dorian's brows furrowed gently. “What do you mean?"

Your breath shakily hitched. Voice dropped to a whisper.

“How does one burn for someone who doesn't feel the same?”

Silence. Dorian stood by the doorframe in shock and all he wanted to do was to approach you. He did. It was slow and quiet enough to avoid startling you in such a vulnerable state with your hands trying to hide it. Roaming around your face to ease the overwhelming crease of your brows.

You squeezed your eyes shut in hopes to let time freeze, not noticing Dorian closing in on you. “These feelings kept coming back no matter how I pushed them away. And now I feel like I'm ruining our friendship, and I don't want that… That's literally the last thing I wanted!”

Your voice cracked at the end. Yet there were no tears but instead an ache on your throat, twisting your airways and trying not to break.

Then, quietly, you heard a reply.

“It doesn't have to be.”

“Huh..?” You snapped your eyes open, startled. But what was more startling was his face popping on your field of vision, and he was kneeling before you to match your height.

Dorian's gaze was steady. Soft, yes, but unwavering. His own voice trembled just slightly, as if they, too, were pushing past walls he had spent years trying to maintain his guard. To protect himself from unwanted intruders.

“I’ve been pondering the same thoughts for a while now.” Dorian said as his brows furrowed. “You’re my friend. I don’t want to hurt you, nor break your trust. But… I don’t think that label fits us well anymore.”

Your lips parted in a shake of disbelief. “Dorian, just don't. The last thing I wanted was to force yourself to open up to me. Please… If you’re saying this out of pity—”

“Who says I was forcing myself?” The immediate sharpness of Dorian's tone startled you both. It wasn't anger, there were no traces of it. Instead it was a trace of clarity.

“This is the perfect time to come clean. Don't you think so?” You bit your lip and felt the bottom flesh ache, and you didn't disagree with him.

The door's expression softened, and he slowly leaned forward leaving a little space between your foreheads. His voice was quieter now, almost reverent.

“Every minute you spend talking to me or helping my needs… It only proves that I can rely on others.” His eyes met yours and continued. “That I can rely on you… You taught me more than anyone else that a good relationship can blossom through friendship.”

You blinked slowly, the weight of his feelings was starting to catch up to you in full. Blood rushed to your ears when you could feel your heart battering against your ribcage.

“...What are you saying?” You croaked.

Meanwhile, Dorian looked at you like he had been waiting to say this.

“I'm saying…” He exhaled. “You weren't the only one who's afraid but I don't want to be afraid anymore.”

He reached out, slowly and deliberately, with his hand hovering near yours that was placed still on your knee. Not touching, not quite. You guessed what he was about to do and you waited when Dorian spoke again.

“So if you’ll let me… I'd like to be something more with you. Not in spite of our friendship.” That was when a smile made its way to Dorian's lips. “But because of it.”

Your eyes widened along with your fingers twitching before you let it reach and slowly curling into his. Your fingers were linked now. Lightly, as though one quick movement might break it. But neither of you pulled away.

You stared at the point of contact like it wasn't real. Like you were dreaming again, those sleepless nights or half-asleep moments where you wanted him here with you. But this wasn't a dream. This was now. Here.

“...I don't want to pretend anymore.” You weakly muttered with a small grin and watched your calloused thumb caress his hand.

Dorian's eyes softened. His other hand reached out and gently cupped your cheek, thumb brushing away a stray tear that had managed to escape. This allowed you to look at him, your eyes gazing at each other.

“You don't have to, handsome.” He whispered. “You never had to.”

And suddenly, the silence wasn't heavy anymore. It was full of warmth. The space between you had always been small but now there was no distance left to bridge.

You leaned forward hesitantly and Dorian did the same until his lips finally sealed with yours. Dorian immediately savored every skin and warmth, your lips were slightly chapped but so tender against his.

The kiss wasn’t urgent nor desperate. Just real.

It lingered, warm and full of everything he'd never dared say until now. And when you finally pulled apart, foreheads resting together, you both exhaled like something had finally been set free.

Dorian watched you chuckle, truly chuckle, for the first time in days. All he wanted now was to experience your firsts with him. Despite being both men, you both didn’t make a big deal out of it. Everything will work in the end.

“Hmm, I haven't seen you this close before.” Your voice was gentle with your eyes trailing to every edge of Dorian's face. He was handsome and you were a fool for not noticing it before.

Meanwhile Dorian somehow felt exposed, and he loved every bit of it. Being this close to your handsome and charming face has never been anything but a dream. The homeowner, whom he admired from afar, was finally his.

“We have all the time in the world, love.” 

“You're right. I can live with that.”

That's all he needed to know.

Right before you received the dateviators, he always considers himself lucky when he has your undivided attention even if it takes place in your office. It's been a while since you've played G&G with others and became more focused on your work. And he was kinda left out when he sits there on your desk and watches you type away on the keyboard with a bored look on your face. 

But, that's where it would start. 

From the moment something was bothering you, he would often watch you lean back on your chair and let your hands fidget. Whether it would be your own fingers or the other objects around you. Sometimes the ghostly touch of your fingertips would hover above the keyboard that Mac loves so much, or your fingernails tapping on Dasha until it created a calm rhythm.

Most of the time it was him. The die rolls under your touch once you extend your hand absentmindedly to reach for the small object. The warmth as you rolled him on your palm and fingers engulfed him to no end.

You both didn't know when it started, but it immediately became a habit of yours and Chance was embarrassed to admit out loud that he loved it. It has become a perk when you're working. It felt like you sought out for him when something frustrates you, and worst of all, he can feel it.

Embarrassingly so.

The way your hand would always find him just to trace your thumb onto the engraved numbers, one by one while you sorted out your files. Often placing him in between your index and ring finger, or shaking him under the curve of your hand. As if you were rolling for nothing but luck to get through this.

He can feel the shivers running through his spine whenever you do that, and would always savor the moment. Your hands alone make him smitten. It's as if your hands caressed his face, softly squishing his cheeks together. Tracing them to every crevice on his head; it could be his jaw, his scalp, his nape, and the back of his ear.

Oh. Chance can always feel himself flush just from your touch.

Time skipped to now, and the dateviators can finally grant you access to talk to anything in the house. Mac was talking to you about the serious amount of self-insert fanfic to delete to upgrade the computer's system. Again.

While Chance was uninterested in the other things you both discussed, he couldn't help but overhear your conversation. Especially when the computer would mention your boxer purchases and many other things that make you flush to no end.

Heat would blossom on his cheeks. He couldn't even exit the room when he was waiting patiently for you to finish up. That's why he occupied himself to write an extended scene for the oneshot you both played last week while the die waited. He was supposed to write, but now all he wanted was for you to reach out to him. He thinks you'll pass out from the computer's advances of how beet red you've gotten and Mac was completely enjoying it.

Chance was fully aware of how the inanimate people in this house found you endearing. He has an equal share of jealousy whenever you're with someone other than him and now he can only look at you sympathetically. He watches you fidget your hand and immediately knew it was time for him to step up. 

He pushed himself in his unmoving state and rolled until your hand picked him up as he was engulfed with warmth once more. Your discussion with Mac continues and Chance knew you could never say no to them. After all, you're trying your best to help around the house and its problems due to the ability to speak to them, hearing them out the best you can.

It didn't take long for Mac to upgrade, and with Chance in your hand, the die discovered a new perk of yours while you fidget. Tossing him in the air was clearly new despite how he liked the breeze brush against him and fell safely onto your hand. Even if your conversation with Mac ended, you kept tossing him while you were lost in your thoughts.

With your self-insert fanfics gone, of course you would be distressed. You're devoted when it comes to it and you would resort to seeking comfort writing it. Especially with your job taken from you. But he knew you were always glad to help others.

He snapped out of his thoughts when he noticed he was high up in the air for the nth time. It was concerning since you've never done this before. Chance’s moment to stop you was cut short when he slipped from your touch. That’s when you realize your mistake, you can't reach him in this distance.

“Shit. Chance-!” 

Your office chair swerved harshly and you immediately felt the tingling pain knocking the air out of your lungs. You found yourself on the floor, with your side and arm tensing from the fall. Putting yourself in an uncomfortable position whilst your eyes trailed over to your extended fist.

You were so engrossed on the sight of it by a bated breath that you didn't notice the shadow looming above you, or even the dateviators still on the bridge of your nose. The pain had subsided to worry when you noticed subtle movement and you turned to face where.

There he was, Chance, looming over you with such incomprehensible eyes as his brows furrowed in worry. You didn't waste any time when the warmth of your hands slowly returned to his face. Shifting it to the side to see if he was hurt as your thumb traced to his cheekbones.

“Dude… Are you okay? I didn't mean to space out, I'm sorry...” You muttered with such guilt in your eyes.

Chance didn't respond which worries you, and instead he sunk in your touch and let himself be bathed with it. Somewhat entranced the way your hands trailed to his jaw. Calloused but gentle. Is it wrong for him to crave more? He didn't even realize how starved he was of your touch when his hands trailed to cup your wrists.

“Chance…?”

You felt the edge of your breath hitch when your pupils shook from the sight in front of you. Chance held your wrists in a gentle grip and leaned into your hands, caressing himself with it. It felt too hot, his face burned and slowly but surely, yours too. You tumbled over your words and internally cursed at yourself when words betrayed you.

How can you even form the right sentences when his hands took yours and began to pepper kisses? Every peck felt electrifying, from your fingers to your palms. You didn't even imagine him being this bold. You always perceived him as an adorable person who wanted to make friends easier and has a firm love of G&G.

You don’t know anymore, but one thing you do know was everything just felt right. He couldn't help it. From the moment you became his friend through your first meeting, the campaigns, and hang-outs, Chance couldn't help but become putty in your hands.

And he knows he wasn't the only one. His ruby eyes would watch you stare at his hands that was thicker than yours and if he looked closely enough, you would squirm under him due to the rapid beating of your ribcage. And him in-between your legs wasn't helping the both of you either. 

He chuckled under his breath and you snapped out of your blushing stupor.

You meekly raised a brow under him. Grumbling softly. “What are you laughing at?”

“Nothing.” He says but it didn't look like it was nothing when he intertwined his hand through yours. Your face blew a fuse once more when he planted a firm kiss on your knuckle. He didn't waste any second and looked at you so tenderly.

“Do you love my hands that much?” He asks tenderly.

Chance fought a laugh when you short-circuited. Stuttering words that were difficult to make out. You don't have to say it. He already knows by the way your teeth chewed the flesh on your bottom lip. It was a rare sight to behold as the homeowner. A rare sight indeed just for him.

You really loved his hands too.