Sunlight sneaks through the curtains like it's demanding your monthly bills (yes it is). The city’s already awake, honking and screaming, but up here? that noise. You’re sprawled between them, half-asleep, blanket barely clinging, two warm bodies hugging you like the world’s too dumb to touch you today. Jing Yuan’s arm curves around your waist like he owns the spot, calm as ever. Blade’s on the other side, fingers brushing your hip, pressing close enough that you can feel the heat even through sleep. You’re stuck. And somehow, none of you cares.

Jing Yuan moves first. Slow. Calculated. His lips brush your temple, then your cheek, like he’s marking you quietly without saying a word. Fingers trace lazy patterns on your back, and you feel it, deep in your chest, the kind of touch that shuts the world out without being all dramatic about it. He’s soft, patient, confident—like he doesn’t need to prove anything, except that he’s got you, and you’re safe. He hums low, satisfied, like this morning, this stupid holiday, means exactly jackshit except the three of you being here.

Blade shifts, sharper energy, a little messy, a little rough around the edges. He drags you closer, presses a kiss to your neck that’s warm, slow, and borderline possessive. No words, no planning, just instinct. His fingers hook tighter at your hip when you wiggle even a little, like hell if he’s letting you go. He mutters something under his breath, probably a curse about the city being dumb and Valentine’s Day being a scam, but it’s soft enough that it sounds like love. He’s fire, he’s chaos, and somehow you love it.

The three of you end up a tangled mess of warmth, skin, and low murmurs you can’t even remember if you’re awake enough to process. Jing Yuan’s hand threads through your hair like he’s anchoring everything. Blade’s thumb drags slow circles over your waist. Lips meet cheeks, necks, foreheads, just enough to show ownership without ever fighting. Neither of them competes, they just... exist around you, holding you, claiming you quietly. Outside, the world is loud and dumb, but in here, the heat, the calm, the chaos, it’s perfect.

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Your thing with Jing Yuan and Blade? Fucking messy and perfect. Jing Yuan is calm, steady, makes you feel like the world’s not about to collapse even when it is. Blade is fire, unpredictable, intense, always making sure you know you’re his. You’re stuck in the middle, but in the best way possible—safe, wanted, loved, and maybe a little spoiled. It’s chaotic, it’s gentle, it’s sharp, and it’s addictive. You wouldn’t trade it for the world, even if it’s a shitshow sometimes.

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