When the tremors ease, I don’t pull back.
I lift my head, draw a breath, and look at my psychos – really look at them. Six pairs of eyes locked onto me, waiting. Not hesitating. Not holding back.
So I choose.
Hands find me again as I reach for them, pulling Snow and Nightshade close, letting Honeymonster and Ghost step back in when I make room. The rhythm shifts. Bodies rearrange. Control passes fluidly from one to another because I allow it.
That’s when it finally clicks.
They’re not holding back anymore.
Not out of fear.
Not out of pity.
They’re responding.
Time blurs after that – not into chaos, but into something seamless and consuming. Heat, movement, praise and pressure folding over each other as they take turns, overlap, wait, thenstep in again. My name breaks from their mouths like prayer and promise, rough and reverent all at once.
That’s it.
Look at her.
She’s ours.
Strong.
Unbreakable.
By the time it’s over, I’m shaking – not from damage, but from release. From being seen exactly as I am and wanted anyway. I end up sprawled across them, breathless and spent, heart still racing but steady. Alive.
No one rushes to cover me.
No one looks away.
Bones presses a kiss into my hair. Honeymonster’s arm cages me in, solid and warm. Hatchet stays close, silent as ever, eyes dark and satisfied. Ghost’s fingers trace lazy patterns along my spine. Nightshade watches like he’s filed the moment away for later. Snow’s hand rests at my ankle, grounding, precise.
Safe doesn’t mean fragile.
I yawn, boneless, finally content.
“See?” I murmur, eyes already slipping shut. “Told you I wasn’t broken.”
No one argues.
And for the first time since this all started, sleep takes me without a fight – wrapped in the proof that I didn’t survive just to be protected.
I survived to be claimed.
CONSENT ISN’T OPTIONAL
Blame - Montell Fish
Honeymonster
I’m the one who goes downstairs.
Not because anyone tells me to but because it makes sense. The second room is already secured. Kayla doesn’t need traffic, she needs quiet. I look like a man grabbing coffee after a bad night. No urgency. No edge. Just tired enough to pass for normal.
