#'dream a little dream of me' is their song

[tojislibrvry]

★ ︵ @ toji / reader , phone sex, corruption, virgin!reader, masturbation, voice kink, vibrator

you were young, the right age to be wild and fun. you saw your peers around you at midnight, as you swiped through everyone’s instagram stories. red heart coloured in as you tapped on every new post. red cups littered everywhere in the background, strobing lights manipulating the camera as your beautiful classmates flashed a charming grin or had their tongue out cheekily at their phones.

you wanted to be them so bad, yet you couldn't muster up the confidence nor the courage to get up and be yourself. 

this translated to your love life too. it’s not like you were a complete loser, you were friendly, thoughtful, and quite awfully pretty like that one song. there was just something that held you back constantly to go up and talk to the people you fancied. the inexperience made you insecure day by day.

it was not like you planned to be a virgin your whole life! the way things were progressing made you a little unsure though. you were also increasingly embarrassed that you couldn’t make yourself feel good. you would touch yourself in the dark whenever your roommate spent the night at her boyfriend’s. the coil in your stomach would begin to unravel but it would never snap. tears of frustration would bubble and there wasn't a day they converted to tears of pleasure.

and one normal tuesday, as you were scrolling through twitter a post caught your eye. huh?  there was no way something like that was legitimate. it was probably a scam, probably. curious enough you click on his profile and the image you are met with has your mouth watering.

stood a faceless man with his shirt off and presumably his pants off — the picture cut off below his achingly deep v line. his veiny arms, you are sure were twice the size of your head, were orgasm inducing. one of his hands held the camera while the other trailed off downwards…fuck.

ovulating and mind clearly way out of rationality, you texted the number in his post. if it was a scam, you would know — you could simply just block him. you weren't the brightest when it came to internet safety.

you closed the message app as soon as you were done typing out a cute "hii! is this legitimate? what’s your business model like? can i trust you? sorry for rambling. i've never done this before." and placed your phone under your pillow as you decided to sleep. 

the dreams you had that night were incomparable to the horniest porn you could have ever watched. the faceless man, held you against his warm body as he had you in the meanest mating press. your nails scratching his beautifully muscled back as you begged for more. your eyes rolled behind meeting your empty skull as he delivered a harsher thrust each time you mewled against his lips. as your dream self inched closer and closer to sweet release, you were thrown awake — your lonely beating heart ( and pussy ) your only company. 

you woke up cringing at the wetness between your thighs, the fluids of your insatiable arousal coating your thighs. you felt like a hormonal teenage boy who had nutted ( almost in your case ) in his boxers the very first thing in the morning. the discomfort and the migraine you developed from ruined orgasm made you get out of bed dragging yourself to the bathroom. your phone automatically flew to your hand like thor with his hammer as you scrolled as you brushed your teeth. 

everything was as smooth sailing as it could be until your eyes landed on a single notification that made you spit your toothpaste out halfway. you had actually texted that man in your delirious state. you glared at yourself in the mirror and clicked on the text expecting to see your usual scam test, something along the lines of "send me all your bank details haha promise i wont do anything about it!" instead what you are met with has you searching for a seat.

"so many fucking questions baby, why don't i call you tonight and you can see how legitimate my big dick is. you can pay me after i've shown you a good time. feel lucky. i don't do this for everyone, sweetheart." 

you spent the next thirty minutes trying to cool yourself down, splashing water on yourself to cool how heated your face had become. you sat down on your bed, pulling your knees up to finally answer the text. too embarrassed to text out a detailed reply you simply send him a thumbs up and wait for your racing heart to calm down.

the rest of the day went on incredibly slow, painstakingly slow. you had to sit through college lectures while your mind was clouded with thoughts about the nameless man you were going to talk to that night. you knew you were playing a dangerous game. you knew nothing about this mystery man.

sure, you could discern some of his features by stalking all the media from his x profile. he had raven hair that you could find in the reflection of one lucky post, his hair short and unkempt which did nothing but elicit more of your attention. another post had a little  bit of his face revealed, a salacious grin plastered on his face. you could see a scar run on his lips, the sense of danger it gave, had you turned on more than ever, making you wonder if you were going to discover more things about yourself from this ordeal.  

during your lunch break you had received another text from the contact, asking about the timings of your encounter. you had hastily agreed to 11pm, a time you knew very well your roommate would not be at home. 

if you were going to get dirty, might as well do it in a house with no one else. once you were back home, a quick eaten dinner with your appetite redirected to something else completely, you decided to unwind in the shower. you knew it wasn't a physical meet, this man probably had hundreds of callers before you yet deep down inside you wanted him to want you as much you did. silly as it was, you made sure to pluck and tweeze, shave and oil your skin making sure you smelled like a cupcake. you smelled good enough that the phone could pick up on your perfumed body if it were possible. 

the countdown had you pacing in your room, your lips were raw and red with the entire day spent with your lips tucked in your teeth. you were glancing at your clock every thirty seconds, watching the hands of the clock read 10:58. 

god were you wetter than ever before. you could feel the thrumming of your heartbeat spread throughout your body. taking deep breaths in you settled on your bed, legs criss crossed trying to pretend that the phone was not about ring any second. 

at 11.00pm, your phone rang. the marimba ringtone heard throughout your room, echoing off the walls. you had to remain patient. you didn't want the man to think you were desperate. well, you were! but he didn't need to know that. almost immediately, unable to wait any more, you picked up the call.

you were a smart girl, your grades were proof of that and even now, you had evidence of your intelligence by how you had your bluetooth already connected, so you could hear this man's voice as closely as you could, like he was ready to whisper in your ears. your nerves pooled in but no amount of adrenaline could have prepared you for what you could possibly describe as the sexiest voice on the planet. 

"heyyyy doll." it was a gruff voice, something that you would hear in the old cowboy movies your mother used to fawn over when you were a little girl. two words in and you could already hear the teasing tilt to his tone. 

"no greetings for someone helping ya out ?" he asked, bringing you out of your stupor. shaking your head like he could see you, you stammered out a quick, "n-no! fuck, im sorry mr...." you trailed off unsure how to address him. 

"want to know my name baby ? want to know what you should call out to when you are about to cum ?" 

you responded with a squeak, earning a chuckle from the other side of the phone.  you hear a quiet sigh as he whispers softly, goosebumps instantly painted on your skin when he says, "call me toji, i would love to hear you scream it."

before you could  thank him for his gratitude, you were interrupted when he surprisingly asked, "so tell me doll, what's the issue ? pretty thing like ya doesn't need my help getting off,  you must have those stupid frat boys drooling over you."

your eyes widened in surprise, "b-but you don't even know me! how do you know if i'm pretty !!?? or how do you know i'm in college !! are you stalking me ??" 

"ah, i understand the problem now." you heard him mutter, you were already tense, shoulders ready to cramp and your hands gripping the sheets so hard you were surprised they didn't tear by the sheer force. 

"you worry too much baby, do you think it's not easy to guess that someone that sounds as cute as you would be anything other than an inexperienced college girl. i might be exploiting my body, baby, but that doesnt make me stupid. i'm almost a lil offended." you could feel his sly pout through the phone. you only wished that you could feel it on you instead.

"...you are right, i am inexperienced." you said falling on your bed so you could stare at the ceiling instead. too embarrassed to look at the caller id. "i actually...." you tried to steel your nerves so it could be easy for you to admit it. taking a deep breath in you continued, "i cant..." "get yourself off? is that it sweetheart ?"

you sighed, nodding as you continued. "i've tried to, you know... touch myself, but i just can't!" you said exasperated. "you poor thing, you can't even get yourself off. of course you need my help. no one talks to me and goes unsatisfied." he stopped for a second, to let out a dry laugh.

"tell me, what are you comfortable with tonight?" he asked, letting you think for the first time. ten minutes on call with him and you were already too full of him in your mind, unable to think rationally. "i...i'm comfortable with touching myself and...there's something that i bought for myself, a toy to see if it would help me out. it didn't. i don't mind using that either." 

a low whistle. ""a toy? fuck baby, y'er killing me." you gulped at his shameless confession continuing, "i also like it when...when it's a little mean..." you flushed with heat as you voiced it out loud, "i like it mean, not a little— like a lot. sorry."

"awww baby, why are you apologizing ? if you want to be called a slut , i'll call you a slut. no need to feel ashamed for what you like." he pauses, "hm? maybe not ashamed but you do have to feel filthy for a mind like that." you gasped in surprise. "with such less experience, tell me how do you know what you like ?"

you blushed, cheeks feverishly hot now. "ah, i i just.." "just what baby? ya watch porn all alone in your dorm ? that is filthy." 

you tried to maintain a semblance of control. "tojiiiii m'not like that, i just—"

"awww, i'm playing, doll. i'm the last person to shame a pretty girl for trying to take care of her needs, no matter how bad she's at it." you felt yourself growing wetter with his words, thighs now spread apart as you laid on your bed, sweating on the sheets from his dirty words.

"silent now? can't hear you playing with your pussy either, waiting for permission?" you wished you could wipe off his smug smirk that is clearly translated through the shitty phone quality. realizing that you actually did not need his permission, your hands inched downwards.

"sweetheart, not yet." he said with a slightly terrifying tone attached to his elongated words. "tell me, what are you wearing?" you scoffed at him, "m'not wearing anything special." you lied. you were but it was too embarrassing to tell him that. "awww you are being a brat now? reaaaaaal cute." he paused, "quit playing,  we both know how you had your thighs pressed together all day because of me."

your eyes were already glassy with need. "toji...m'just wearing a babydoll dress, it's not that special i promise." 

"is that so sweetie ? all right then. why don't we start slow first? let's not rush into anything and confuse your pretty head." you nodded and quickly realized he could not possibly see you so you responded, "okay toji, i trust you..."

"fuck, you are going to kill me if you keep talking with that pout." he groaned, and you almost felt like he was itching to touch you the same way you wanted to touch him. 

"now, pull up your dress, get your tits out. no more than that." you carefully listened, obedience coursing through your veins. you pulled your dress up, freeing your tits to the cold room, nipples hardening immediately. "hah, can hear your heavy breathing through the phone, you are too fucking cute."

you left out a shaky breath at his words and waited for his next instruction. you could hear the sound of clothes rustling from the other side of the phone. "now, pretty, i want you to play with your nipples alright? tug on them baby, pinch them." you burned at his lewd comments but nevertheless followed his words to a tee. you were able to control your sounds till now, biting your lips to suppress the moans that bubbled at his dirty words.

you let out the softest whimpers as you pinched yourself, stimulating your already sensitive nipples. you began to feel hotter than you usually did. maybe it was the fact that you had an audience or maybe because the audience was him. 

“fuck, just like that. i wish i was there to see ya touch yourself, maybe even touch you myself a little bit. you would like that wouldn't you slut ?" you simply moaned in response, continuing the ministrations on yourself. "the way you sound like a goddamn whore, all i want to do is bite on your sensitive nipples for you." 

you couldn't stop the floaty feeling in your head flowing through your body, his words having an effect on you like nothing had ever before. 

"fuckin' slut, if ya can get turned on this easily by just having your tits fondled i think its time for you to touch your pretty pussy.." you immediately listened, wasting no time to bring your fingers to the valley of your thighs.

"fuck, spread yourself for me baby and let me hear the mess you've made for my voice." the simple act of you spreading your legs let out a sticky squelch, caught by your microphone and undoubtedly toji who practically moaned at that noise. "god. run your finger through your pussy, you sound fucking beautiful." you do as he said, letting the messiest sounds echo through the room. he groused loudly, "fuckin' hell, you have to be kidding me." you wouldn't believe your own body either. you had never been that wet before, never that aroused. 

"awww, my sweet slut got all wet from my voice, no longer my sweet baby hm? so fuckin' dirty." you could hear the sound of something being uncapped and a loud squelch that came from his side of the line. "it's a disgrace that i can't feel how wet your dirty cunt is getting on my cock. have to resort to lube instead." he muttered under his breath. "god sweetheart, your pussy probably tastes better than this shitty artificial strawberry despite it being so filthy." 

you began to inch your fingers closer and closer to your needy clit, which was already begging for your attention. maybe it was the praise along with his degradation that made you good because you immediately followed up with a "toj' can i touch my clit, please?"

toji growled at your innocent yet lewd request. "keep asking like that slut and ill give ya a baby too." you giggled at his words now actually touching yourself. finally, giving attention where you had desperately craved your touch had you arching your back off the bed, immediately crying out in pleasure. your bundle of nerves ached with need and being given the pleasure it needed all along, you could feel the black spots of pleasure already painting your vision. 

"i want you to be slow baby, take it slow." he cooed at you, "make sure you rub the softest circles on her, hm just the faintest ya don't want to overwhelm her, pretty." you were hooked to every word that left his mouth and you definitely didn't miss the way he tugged on his cock. it had you growing so needy to be filled. 

"that's right my filthy whore, why dont ya give her a kiss with your vibrator. come on, turn that flimsy silicon on." you nodded along, pulling your vibrator from underneath your pillow to use on yourself. you turned the pink silicon and brought it closer to your pretty clit just faintly touching it, hovering almost just as toji had told you to. 

the minute you brought your vibrator to your needy clit, your body arched off the bed almost unnaturally. your mind was fuzzy with the pleasure it felt. you had never felt like this before when you had used that very vibrator on yourself. you began to mewl uncontrollably as your thighs twitched at the faint sensations. 

"fuuuuuuck, you sound so slutty sweetheart. no one could have imagined that such a naive girl would be shamelessly getting off to a stranger's voice." you were babbling, mind too far gone to actually answer him. 

"now listen carefully baby, i want you to keep that stupid toy on your clit while your other hand plays with your slutty hole alright?" you forced yourself to bring back some obedience so you could follow along to his words. "i want you to put a finger in yourself, sweets, just one. you can do that for me right baby?"

you nodded again, no longer able to form coherent sentences. "i need ya to use your words like a good fucking girl, else i'll leave you all needy and alone." your eyes opened in despair, tears streaming down your pretty face. "noooo toj' —" you hiccuped, "please, just wanna feel good!"

if you could have seen the sight that was on the other side of the phone call you would have lost your damn mind. sat on a leather couch next to a plastic desk, toji fushiguro had the sleaziest grin painted on his face as he listened to your desperate begging. the raven haired man had his sweats pulled down just enough to spring his cock so he could stroke himself to the little whines you couldn't hold back. the way you called out his name had him high on pleasure, the sticky strawberry lube clouding every sense of his. 

all the poor man wanted to do was be able to push your head onto the bed as he pounded you like you deserved, snatching up your virginity like a disgusting pervert. alas, all he could do was fist his obscenely hard cock to the thought of your fingers pushed deep inside your cunt unable to give you the pleasure— a minute with his tongue could.

he settled for making you cry instead, revelling in the way you wobbled with tears. he moaned at your mewls, trying to talk to you but you made it so hard for him to talk. 

"i want you to put another finger in, baby, oh? what was that? too tight?" he cackled at your words, "go slowly, don't wanna break ya doll." you sniffled, trying to put another finger into you slowly, and you felt so full already. 

"if you can't handle your fingers, how can you ever take a cock? thought you were a cock hungry slut ?" you cried, as you began to scissor yourself open, hands beginning to cramp up. your body was beyond stimulated now, you could taste your orgasm on your tongue. 

"toji, m'close, ah—i think so." toji felt his heart beat faster at your words. 

"awww you are going to cum baby? my sweet whore about to have her first ever orgasm ?" you nodded as you continued to push your fingers in and out of your sweltering heat, eyes rolled back and mouth open as you couldn't crave for something bigger. 

"sweetheart, i want you to increase the intensity setting on your toy and continue to finger that cunt okay? you'll listen right? i promise to make you see the stars." you couldn't help but cry out as you increased the intensity, body pushed beyond its limits. you could feel a warm sensation all throughout your body as you pressed the toy impossibly closer to your clit.

toji tried to match his strokes, his cock about to cum around the same time as you just as he continued thrusting into his own fist at the same pace your fingers thrusted into your warm hole. he couldn't help but tug faster as your moans became louder and your words became less comprehensible.

"let yourself go baby, you can do it. toji's right here with you." he nearly whimpered as he heard your desperate whines. you began to feel your cunt squeeze impossibly against your fingers and suddenly the coil in your stomach snapped. you felt a gush of liquid splash everywhere, dirtying your sheets. you could feel the slick ooze from you as you squirted for the first time in your entire life.

all those years of remaining "broken" as your best friend would call you was all worth it because at that moment all you could see was heaven. white washed over your eyelids and the softest buzzing sensation racked through your body. talking about buzzing, your vibrator remained on the side having its use truly fulfilled for the first time in your life. 

meanwhile toji could not believe his fucking ears when he heard his so called inexperienced caller squirt only because of his voice. it was enough to send him over the edge, his fist grasping his cock almost painfully as he came all over his abs, his cum painting his tan skin white and his happy trail a wet mess from when he had started. he  was beyond ecstatic, hearing your soft pants from the line. 

you heard toji's grunts directly in your ears and if you were not completely exhausted, you would have brought the vibrator back once again. as you heard him finish, you muttered a shy thank you for being the first to make you cum.

he simply chuckles at your words following it up with a, “it's all good doll, just make sure ya pay me double before our next session.”

fuck, you needed to get a part time job now.

[cheeseceli]

Late wait

Pairing: idol!Lee Know × Gn!reader (established relationship)

Genre: fluff, domesticity, drabble

Request: Lee know with a "waiting for us" kinda vibe. Just being together in their own place with lots of domestic fluff. Dancing whenever, seeing movies whenever...

Warnings: mentions of food, Minho is an idol, the cats and the boys are here as well, reader and him live together

A/n: I simply love to write domestic moments | daily click

Minho finds it funny how the most beautiful things in life are always the simplest.

Coming from someone whose life is full of luxuries, he could understand why someone would be skeptical about his statement, but he couldn't be more truthful than that.

He already saw thousands of different people, dressed in fancy suits and drank expensive wine. The places he already went to were sometimes covered in gold, and if not, they'd have a red carpet and sculptures everywhere. He's not going to lie and say these things are bad, or that he despises them. On the contrary, actually. However, when you live a life of "too much", you learn how to appreciate what is simple.

His cats stepping on his face to wake him up. All the times he went somewhere random to camp. Seungmin's burnt barbecue and Felix' brownies. You. All the things that made his life easy.

As much as he loves all those things, maybe he should highlight you a little bit more. It's only fair, since you are the one who plays the major role in making him feel alive.

When Minho thinks about you, he thinks about how he loves to wake up early before some morning schedule and see how you're sleeping peacefully next to him. You always ask him to wake you up before he goes, but he never finds the strength in himself to disrupt your dreams. You have a whole collection of little notes he put next to the bed, apologising for not saying bye, but promising to bring food whenever he's back.

He also remembers dance nights. As he is a professional dancer and an idol, he thought he wouldn't want to move a single muscle the moment he gets home. However, whenever he comes home to you singing some random song on the radio, it's impossible to not hold your hand and start swaying according to the rhythm. You don't know how to dance. When he's with you, he suddenly forgets how to as well. In the end, it's just two fools in love, dancing how your heart tells you to.

Movie nights where none of you had luck picking what to watch, so you'd just sleep mid the boring show. Cooking homemade dinner and noticing you ran out of all the ingredients, so you have to run to the market. Visiting his parents every Sunday. Staying in the entire weekend with the cats because that's so much better than going out.

There are dozens of little moments like those that Minho could talk about. None of them was particularly special - they were all things that happened every day. Maybe that was the magic of it. Living was easy with those moments, with you.

Now he was coming back home. The day was full of different events. Tiring, extravagant, but nice. He was smiling. But now he only wanted to come home to you. He knew you were staying up late so you could welcome him and ask him how the day was. And as much as you've waited, he'd hug you with his entire being and never let go.

Masterlist | you'll probably like: kiss me (more)

Reminder this is just fiction!! I'm not trying to portray real life and you shouldn't believe that this is how the members actually are. This is just for the vibe and the delulu!

Taglist (open!): @yuyubeans @dandelions-143 @sleepyleeji @jinnie-ret @sheraayasherrecs @rockstarkkami @urlocalmultigroupfan (those I couldn't tag are in bold)

Dividers by @adornedwithlight | images 1, 2 and 3

[szariahwroteit]

Doll House: A Jude Bellingham + Orginal Character Erotic Series.

18+ Minors DNI

Chapter 2

Tori adored teaching dance almost as much as she loved performing, but a last-minute call from another of the instructors meant she’d been tasked with taking the class instead, completely throwing off her dinner plans with Jude. 

Rather than having him collect her from her apartment, they decided that Jude would swing by the dance studio to pick Tori up before they made their way to his place, where his chef was set to prepare dinner for the two of them.

“Beautiful girls! One more run-through and we are done for the day.” Tori exclaimed to her class of preteens as she pressed play starting the piece of music they were dancing to over. 

The energy in the studio was electric as the music filled the air, a vibrant mix of rhythm and melody. Tori clapped her hands together, energizing her students, their eager faces lighting up with excitement. She loved moments like this, watching the girls, full of enthusiasm, moving in sync with the beat, their innocence reminding her of her childhood passion for dance.

As the music started, Tori took a step back, her eyes roaming over the eager faces, filled with determination as they followed her instructions. She couldn’t help but smile, swept away by their spirit. Each pirouette, every leap they executed, ignited the love she had for her craft—teaching them not only the moves but also the joy and confidence that dance could bring into their lives.

“Let’s focus on those transitions, girls! Remember to keep your arms fluid and your movements sharp!” she encouraged, her words ringing above the music, infusing her students with motivation.

Despite her excitement, Tori felt a longing in her chest. She had been looking forward to dinner with Jude, the thought of their intimate evening together floating in her mind like a sweet dream. But all of that anticipation had now transformed into a fleeting thought as she poured herself into the class.

“Five, six, seven, eight! And one, two, three… spin!” Tori counted, her body moving lightly along with the girls, demonstrating the moves with a grace she had honed over countless performances. The music surged, and she felt her energy rising, moving through the routine seamlessly.

As the final notes of the song echoed through the studio, Tori turned down the music and clapped her hands together, signalling an end to class. “Great job today, everyone! You’ve all worked so hard! I’m so proud of you!”

The girls erupted in cheers, giddy and full of laughter as they chatted and gathered their belongings. Tori smiled and waved them off, feeling the familiar warmth of pride fill her chest. 

Just as she was packing her bag, her gaze flickered to the clock on the wall. She hoped Jude had arrived by now. There was a flutter of anticipation in her belly at the thought of seeing him.

As she gathered her belongings and cleared what little mess the girls had left behind, Tori’s phone began to ring in her bag. 

She fished it out, her heart racing as she saw Jude's name flash across the screen. A smile broke across her face, and she quickly answered, eager to hear his voice. 

“Hi!” she said, trying to keep her tone light despite the rush of excitement. 

“Hey, beautiful! I’m outside the studio. Are you almost done?” Jude’s voice was warm and inviting, sending a thrill through her.

“Just wrapping up! I’ll be right out,” Tori replied, her heart fluttering at the thought of seeing him. She quickly finished packing her bag, her mind racing with thoughts of the kiss they shared the evening prior. 

“I can’t wait to see you,” he said, and she could hear the smile in his voice. 

“Me too! I’m sorry about the change of plans,” she admitted, her cheeks flushing slightly. 

“Don’t worry about it,” Jude reassured her, his tone light. “I’m just happy I get to see you. Plus, I’m sure your students needed you.”

Tori felt a rush of warmth at his words. “Thanks! They were amazing today. I love teaching them,” she said, her voice filled with genuine enthusiasm. 

“Sounds like you had a good time. I’m looking forward to seeing you,” he replied, and she could sense the readiness in his voice. 

“Definitely! I’m leaving the studio now. I'll see you in a second.” Tori said before handing up the phone so she could pull her sweats over the leotard she wore, before putting on her coat and sneakers so she could head out to meet Jude. 

The street outside of the studio was rather empty, barring a sleek black Mercedes parked at the curb, the low smooth rumble of the engine humming from the car before the driver door pushed open and Jude stepped out of it dressed casually in a black sweatsuit. 

Tori’s heart skipped a beat as their eyes met, his attire so much more relaxed than the tuxedo he wore the day before, but just as handsome. 

“Hi,” Tori greeted, her voice softening as she took in the sight of him. The way he stood there, exuding confidence and warmth, made her feel a rush of affection.

“Hi,” Jude repeated, his smile wide and genuine. He closed the distance between them, wrapping his arms around her in a warm embrace and Tori couldn't help but inhale his musky scent. She melted into him, as his arms tightened before he released her from his hold. 

“Can I take this?” Jude asked, his voice calm and warm as he reached out, his fingers gently grazing Tori’s as he moved to lift her gym bag from her side. 

“Thank you!” Tori responded, a smile illuminating her face as she surrendered the bag to him. She observed with appreciation as Jude effortlessly hoisted the bag into the trunk of his car, his movements smooth and confident.

Gently closing the trunk with a soft thud, Jude walked around the car, he reached the passenger side and pulled the door open, a warm smile on his face as he gestured for Tori to climb inside. The late afternoon winter sun casting a golden glow over the city. 

Still dressed in her ballet clothes and feeling rather sweaty, she anticipated arriving at Jude's house so she could use his shower. The entire arrangement was slightly bizarre for the first time two people were hanging out.

Their conversation was light and flowing as Jude drove to his house, the traffic not as heavy as expected for a Saturday afternoon much to his delight. 

Tori was in slight awe as she watched the cityscape gradually give way to the suburbs, each house they passed seemingly bigger than the last as they neared Jude’s neighbourhood. 

After an Instagram search of Jude when she got in the night before, it became apparent to Tori that he was a big deal. He had millions of followers across social media and frequent endorsements with massive brands. The realization made her heart race with anxiety.

She hated to make assumptions, but it was seldom that men like Jude came without a flurry of women behind them, regardless of their relationship status. 

Victoria had learned that she was two years older than him, he hailed from the West Midlands and before moving to Madrid he had lived out in Germany where he also played soccer. 

Tori’s mind was racing with thoughts. What if Jude was just another entitled man who enjoyed the thrill of the chase? Dispelling the nagging doubt in her mind she focused on the moment. He had been nothing but genuine with her so far, and their connection felt real.

“So, what’s your chef cooking for us tonight?” Tori smirked, shifting the conversation into safer, more playful territory as the suburban landscape unfolded like a movie set outside the window.

Jude chuckled, glancing over at her with a playful grin. “Whatever you like, that's the beauty of it.” 

Tori raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “Oh really?” 

He nodded, a twinkle in his eyes. “Absolutely. But I have a few suggestions if you don’t know what you want.” 

“What's your favourite meal?” she asked, leaning back slightly in her seat, eager for his input.

“It’s pretty basic but I'm a sucker for a steak,” Jude admitted, a hint of mischief in his voice. “But I think homemade pasta is also a solid backup.”

“I’m not sure if you mean to, but you sound obnoxiously rich right now,” Tori said teasingly, making Jude laugh as he turned the steering wheel, rounding onto another street, showcasing homes that looked as though they could grace the covers of Architectural Digest.

Jude chuckled, shooting her a sidelong glance. “Well, I assure you, I’m really not. I just happen to enjoy good food and have a great chef who makes it all happen. It does make things a lot more enjoyable, though.” 

Tori smiled, feeling more at ease with the playful banter. “If that’s the case, I’m looking forward to dinner.” She paused for a moment, a flicker of curiosity crossing her mind. “What else does your chef cook? Besides the pasta and steak, of course.”

He thought for a moment, a grin spreading across his face, clearly enjoying the conversation. “I try to avoid sugary foods during the season, but he’s a fucking fantastic baker.” 

Tori couldn't help but laugh as she listened to Jude go on about his chef, it was evident that he didn't lead the normal life of a twenty-one-year-old man, but he still seemed extremely down to earth. 

“This is me,” Jude said as he tilted his head towards a tall black gate, before turning into its driveway. 

Reaching for a small fob in the middle compartment of his car, he pressed it and the gate slowly rolled open. 

As the car moved slowly up the gravel driveway, Tori gazed at Jude’s house, a stunning masterpiece of modern architecture. Its sleek lines and minimalist design exuded sophistication, with large glass windows reflecting the soft glow of the setting winter sun. The structure was both imposing and inviting, with a sense of warmth despite its grandness.

The entrance was decorated with two elegant sculptures, and the subtle outdoor lighting highlighted the clean lines of the building, creating an atmosphere of serene luxury.

“Wow, Jude, your house is beautiful,” Tori gushed, her eyes wide with admiration.

Jude parked the car smoothly and turned to her, a proud but modest smile on his face. “Thanks. I wanted it to feel open and welcoming. It’s a bit different from what I grew up in, but I love it.”

As they stepped out of the car, the crunch of gravel under their feet echoed softly in the quiet evening. Jude guided her towards the front door, using his key to open it before allowing her to enter first. 

“I can give you a tour later, but for now would you like anything to drink?” Jude asked as he kicked off his sneakers. 

“Water is fine,” Tori replied, feeling a little flustered but excited. She took in her surroundings, the spacious foyer adorned with modern art pieces and a stylish chandelier that cast a warm glow over everything. 

Following Jude into the kitchen she watched as he grabbed a bottle of water from the refrigerator before he turned and handed it to Tori. 

Gracefully accepting the water, Tori trailed behind Jude as he guided her into his living room. The space was warmly lit, and filled with inviting furniture that highlighted a blend of comfort and style. She settled into a soft armchair, the fabric plush against her skin, while Jude took a seat across from her, his demeanour relaxed yet attentive.

Despite the plush comfort of her cushioned seat, Tori couldn't shake the clammy sensation clinging to her skin after a long day of dancing. The remnants of perspiration lingered, making her feel uncomfortable. She turned to Jude, a hint of shyness in her voice, and asked, “Do you mind if I take a shower now?”

“Of course. The guest bathroom is just down the hall,” Jude replied, his smile warm and inviting.

Tori felt a wave of relief wash over her. “Thanks! I won’t be long,” she promised, standing up and making her way toward the hallway. She could feel Jude’s gaze on her as she walked away, a mix of excitement and nervousness bubbling in her chest at the thought of their evening together.

As she stepped into the bathroom, Tori quickly shed her dance clothes, grateful for the opportunity to wash away the day’s exertions. The warm water cascaded over her, soothing her muscles and letting her mind wander. She couldn’t help but think about Jude and how comfortable he made her feel, despite the initial anxiety she had about their relationship.

After a refreshing shower, Tori dried herself off and went to retrieve her clothes from her bag only to realize she’d left them in the living room with Jude. 

Opening the bathroom door, Victoria stepped into the bedroom feeling herself becoming slightly panicked.

Walking over to the bedroom door, she pulled it open and let out a sigh of distress. Tori stood looking out into the dimly lit hallway, feeling utterly exposed and at a loss for what to do. The soft fabric of the towel clung to her damp skin, offering little comfort as she weighed her options. She glanced nervously around Jude's house, its unfamiliar outlines and shadows amplifying her discomfort. Retrieving her bag and clothes from the living room seemed like an impossible task. The thought of wandering through the house, dressed only in a towel, sent a wave of embarrassment crashing over her. She knew she had to muster the courage to make the trek, but the vulnerability of the moment paralyzed her.

“Fuck,” she huffed as she crossed the threshold of Jude’s guest room into the long hallway, goosebumps covering the surface of her skin as she quickly made her way down it, attempting to keep quiet as she went. 

Making her way into Jude’s living room where she left her bag, Tori refused to lift her head as the murmur of the television and the soft glow of the screen filled the room. She could hear Jude’s voice, low and relaxed, as he chatted with someone on the phone. The sound made her heart race, a mix of excitement and anxiety swirling within her. 

Tori took a deep breath, trying to steady herself. She could see her bag just a few feet away, but the thought of Jude catching a glimpse of her in just a towel sent her pulse racing. She hesitated, her mind racing with thoughts of how ridiculous she must look, how vulnerable she felt. 

“Okay, just grab the bag and get out of here,” she whispered to herself, steeling her resolve. 

With a glance toward the sectional where Jude sat, she darted forward, her bare feet silent against the cool floor. She reached her bag and fumbled with the straps, her fingers trembling slightly as she pulled it into her grasp. Just as she was about to retrieve her clothes, she heard Jude’s voice grow louder, and her heart dropped.

“Yeah, I’ll call you back in a minute,” he said, and Tori froze, her breath caught in her throat. She could hear him moving around, and she knew she had to act fast. 

In a panic, she stood up and quickly turned to head back toward the hallway, but as she did, she bumped into the edge of the coffee table, sending a small decorative item clattering to the floor. 

“Shit!” she whispered, her heart racing as she turned to see Jude’s head snap in her direction. 

“Tori is everything okay?” Jude asked sitting up, reaching for the television remote so he could mute it as he gave her his undivided attention. 

Tori felt her cheeks flush as she stood there, clutching her bag to her chest like a shield. The towel felt even more inadequate under his gaze, and she could feel her heart pounding in her ears. 

“Everything’s fine!” she stammered, forcing a smile that felt more like a grimace. “I left my bag down here.”

Tori wanted the floor to open up and swallow her, it was only the second time of ever been in Jude's presence and she stood in front of him in nothing but a towel. The vulnerability of the moment was overwhelming, and she could feel the heat radiating from her cheeks. 

Jude’s expression softened a hint of amusement dancing in his eyes. “You know, you could have just called me,” he smirked unable to keep a straight face. 

“My phone is in here, too,” she explained clutching the bag a little tighter. 

“Then you could’ve shouted my name,” he teased, his tone light and playful. “I would have come running.”

Tori couldn’t help but laugh, the tension in her shoulders easing just a bit. “Yeah, right. I’d rather not have you see me like this,” she said, gesturing to the towel that felt like it was shrinking by the second.

“Honestly, you look fine,” Jude replied, his gaze steady and reassuring, although internally he willed himself not to make his gaze slip to her body. “But if you’re uncomfortable, I can cover my eyes until you leave the room.” 

Tori's laughter faded, replaced by a mix of embarrassment and relief. Jude's playful demeanour helped to ease the tension, but the heat in her cheeks remained. She could feel the weight of his gaze, and it sent a shiver down her spine, both thrilling and terrifying.

“Very funny,” she replied, rolling her eyes but unable to suppress a smile. “Although, I think it's a little late to cover your eyes.”

Jude chuckled, the sound warm and genuine. “Fair point. But I promise I’m not going to take a mental picture or anything,” he said, raising his hands in mock surrender. “I’m just trying to be polite.”

Tori felt a flutter of nerves in her stomach, but there was something about Jude’s easygoing nature that made her feel a little less exposed. “Thanks,” she said, her voice softening. “I guess I just didn’t expect to be naked in front of you the first time we’re hanging out.”

“What about the second?” Jude teased, a playful glint in his eyes.

Tori laughed, shaking her head. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. I think I’ll stick to clothes for the foreseeable future.”

“You’re beautiful in and out of them,” Jude replied, his tone sincere, and Tori felt her heart skip a beat at the compliment. 

“Wow, smooth talker, huh?” she said, trying to keep her tone light despite the warmth flooding her cheeks and stomach. “Flattery will get you everywhere.”

“Honestly, I’m just speaking the truth,” Jude said, his brow furrowed in sincerity as he looked directly at her. “But really, there’s no need to feel uncomfortable. It’s just a towel, after all. We’re all human, and these moments happen.” His tone was steady, aimed at easing the tension in the room.

Offering Jude a shy smile, Tori turned on her heels and left Jude’s living room so she could head back to the guest room to finally get dressed. 

When she returned she found that Jude was no longer lounging in his living room, making her way into the kitchen Tori couldn't help but smile as she walked into the room to find Jude enthusiastically talking to a greying olive-skinned man. 

“Tori, this is Chef Ruben,” he smiled as he turned to look at her before turning back to him. 

“Nice to meet you,” Tori said, her voice friendly as she extended her hand toward the chef. 

“Pleasure’s all mine, Tori,” Ruben replied, shaking her hand warmly. His eyes sparkled with kindness, and Tori felt instantly at ease. “Jude was telling me you were curious about what was on the menu tonight?”

“Yes, I’m curious! I’ve heard a lot about your cooking,” Tori replied, her enthusiasm genuine. She couldn’t help but feel a flutter of excitement at the thought of enjoying a meal prepared by someone who seemed to have such a passion for food.

Ruben chuckled, a warm, welcoming smile spreading across his face. “Well, you’re in for a treat! I’m making a herb-crusted rack of lamb with roasted vegetables and a side of creamy mashed potatoes. If you have room for dessert, I prepared a homemade salted caramel ice cream.” 

Tori’s eyes widened, and she felt her stomach rumble at the mention of the meal. “That sounds incredible! You’re making me hungry just talking about it,” she said, laughing lightly.

Jude leaned against the counter, crossing his arms with a smirk. “I told you,” he said, looking at Tori with a playful glint in his eyes. “Ruben’s cooking is legendary. You’ll never want to eat anywhere else after this.”

Tori chuckled, her excitement palpable. “I can believe it! You’re lucky to have such a talented chef at your disposal.”

Ruben waved a hand dismissively, his face lighting up with a grin as he turned back to the vegetables he'd been preparing. 

“Come with me,” Jude smirked as he held out his hand for Tori to take, leading her back into his living room to allow Ruben his space and give them more privacy. 

Although they had communicated a few times throughout the day, they had yet to bring up the kiss they'd shared the night before after meeting at Tori’s company's gala. 

As they stepped into the living room, Tori felt a mix of excitement and nervousness. The atmosphere was cozy, and the faint aroma of herbs and spices wafted in from the kitchen, making her stomach growl with anticipation. 

“So, what do you think of my humble abode?” Jude asked, gesturing around the room with a playful flourish. 

Tori looked around, taking in the elegant décor and modern furnishings. “It’s beautiful. Very… you,” she replied, smiling as she settled onto the plush couch. “I love how open and airy it feels.”

Jude chuckled softly as he sat down beside her, their knees nearly touching. “I wanted it to be a space where people feel comfortable. You know, a place where we can hang out, eat good food, and just enjoy each other’s company.”

The way he spoke sent a flutter through her chest. “I can definitely see that,” Tori said, her voice softening. “It feels welcoming.”

Jude leaned back against the couch, his gaze steady on her. “I’m really glad you could come tonight. I know our plans got a bit jumbled, but I’ve been looking forward to this.”

“Me too,” Tori replied, her heart racing slightly as she met his gaze. The air between them felt charged, and she could feel the warmth radiating from him. “I was a bit worried I’d messed things up.”

“Not at all,” Jude reassured her, reaching out to gently brush a strand of hair behind her ear. His touch sent shivers down her spine, and Tori felt herself lean into him instinctively. “I think it worked out perfectly. We get to enjoy a great meal and each other’s company.”

Tori felt her cheeks flush at the intimacy of the moment. “You’re right,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “I’m really glad I get to spend time with you.”

“Me too,” Jude replied, his voice low and sincere. He hesitated for a moment, then added, “About last night… I just wanted to say that I enjoyed the kiss. I didn’t expect it, but it felt right.”

Tori’s heart raced at his words. “I felt the same way,” she admitted, her cheeks heating up as she remembered the warmth of his lips against hers. “It surprised me, but it was nice.”

Jude's expression softened, and he leaned slightly closer, closing the distance between them. “I’d like to explore that more if you’re open to it.”

Tori’s breath caught in her throat. She had been thinking about it since they parted ways the previous evening. “I’d like that,” she said, her voice steady despite her racing heart.

Leaning into her lips, Jude’s eyes met with Tori’s as they slowly moved closer, their breaths mingling in the space between them. The anticipation hung thick in the air, electrifying and intoxicating. When their lips finally connected, it was gentle at first, a soft brush that ignited a fire within both of them. 

Jude's hand travelled to the back of Tori's neck, pulling her in deeper as their kiss intensified. Tori instinctively leaned into him, feeling the warmth of his body envelop her. The kiss spoke volumes, conveying unspoken desires and promises that lingered just beneath the surface.

As they pulled away, both breathless, Tori couldn’t help but smile at Jude, her heart fluttering like a butterfly in her chest. She could see the hunger in his eyes mirroring her own, and it made her pulse quicken.

“So…” Tori started, her voice playful, trying to lighten the mood. “Is this part of your plan to keep me entertained while Chef Ruben conjures up magic in the kitchen?”

Jude chuckled, a twinkle in his eyes. “Maybe. But honestly, I just wanted a reason to kiss you again,” he admitted, his gaze piercing yet inviting. 

“I think I can get on board with that plan,” Tori replied, her playful demeanour having returned, strengthened by the immediate chemistry they had. 

Suddenly, the sound of footsteps approaching from the kitchen broke the moment. Chef Ruben emerged, wiping his hands on a towel. “Dinner is almost ready.” He peered at them with an amused smile, as if he knew exactly what moment he had interrupted.

Tori felt her cheeks flush as she and Jude quickly pulled apart, both of them trying to regain their composure. The playful atmosphere shifted slightly, but the warmth of the moment lingered in the air.

“Perfect timing, Chef,” Jude said, a hint of laughter in his voice as he leaned back against the couch, trying to appear casual as Ruben turned and left the room.

Victoria chuckled, her eyes twinkling with amusement, turning to look at Jude as he stood to his feet holding out his hand for her guiding her into the dining room where Ruben had set two places at the table for them. 

Pulling out Tori’s chair for her, Jude gestured for her to sit down before taking his seat. A knowing smile on his face as he awaited their dinner being served. 

“Is this an everyday thing for you?” Tori asked as she took in the dining room before his eyes landed back on Jude. “Candle-lit dinners and gourmet meals.”

“No, most of the time my mum will cook for me or Ruben will just leave my dinner in the microwave for whenever I get around to eating it,” Jude explained. 

He understood how glamorous his life may have appeared from the outside looking in, and despite all he had, he still maintained as humble a lifestyle as a man in his position would. 

Time flew by as Tori and Jude sat in his dining room, the evening passing as giving way to the nighttime as they spoke about any and everything. 

Ruben had left around two hours prior after cleaning up the mess he made while cooking, before leaving their dessert in the refrigerator for them. 

It wasn't until Jude's phone rang in his pocket that Tori remembered her own, and when she pulled it out she was surprised to see it was nearing the hour of midnight. 

“Wow, time flew by,” Tori said, glancing at the clock on the wall. “I didn’t realize it was so late!”

Jude chuckled, a hint of surprise in his voice as he checked his watch. “Yeah, it’s easy to lose track of time when you’re having fun. I guess we got a little carried away with our conversation.”

Tori smiled, feeling a warmth spread through her at the thought of their evening together. “I enjoyed it. You’re easy to talk to.”

“Same here,” Jude replied, leaning back in his chair, his expression thoughtful. “I enjoy your company.” 

Tori felt her heart flutter at his words. “Thank you, I've been told the very opposite before.”

Just then, Jude’s phone buzzed again, interrupting the moment. He glanced at the screen and frowned slightly. “It’s my manager. I should probably take this,” he said, standing up and moving a few steps away to answer the call.

Tori watched him, her heart racing slightly as she thought about how different their lives were. Jude was a rising star, and she was just a dancer trying to make a name for herself. She couldn’t help but wonder how or why their lives truly came to align.

As Jude spoke on the phone, Tori took a moment to gather her thoughts before standing to her feet so she could prepare to leave. The evening had been fun, but she didn't want to overstay her welcome. 

Grabbing the plates they ate from, Tori brought them to the kitchen so she could place them into the sink before going in search of her belongings. 

When Jude’s phone conversation came to an end, he returned to the kitchen, a slight frown still lingering on his face. “Sorry about that,” he said, running a hand through his hair. “Business never sleeps, I guess.”

Tori smiled, trying to ease the tension. “No worries, I was just cleaning up a bit. I didn’t want to leave a mess behind.”

Jude chuckled softly, leaning against the counter. “You didn’t have to do that. But I appreciate it.”

“I just figured it was the least I could do after such an amazing dinner,” Tori replied, feeling a sense of warmth at the compliment. “Seriously, the food was incredible. I‘m lucky to have experienced that. But it's super late and I should probably get going.”

“You don't have to,” Jude said, his tone shifting slightly as he stepped closer to her. “I mean, if you want to stay a bit longer, I’d love you to.”

Tori felt her heart flutter at his invitation. The thought of leaving felt premature, especially after such a lovely evening. “I’d like that,” she said, her voice softening. “But I don’t want to impose on you, I've known you twenty-four hours and you've already dropped me home and given me dinner.”

“You’re not imposing at all,” Jude reassured her, his eyes warm and sincere. “I genuinely want you to stay. Plus, it’s late, and I’d feel better knowing you’re safe here.”

Tori felt a rush of warmth at his words, her heart swelling with affection. “Okay, I’ll stay a little longer,” she said, a smile breaking across her face. 

“Great,” Jude replied, his expression brightening. “How about we watch a movie or something? I have a few good ones lined up.”

“Sounds good,” Tori agreed, feeling a sense of comfort wash over her. She loved the idea of curling up on the couch with him, enjoying the warmth of his presence.

Jude led her back to the living room, where he grabbed the remote and settled onto the couch, gesturing for her to join him. Tori nestled in beside him, feeling the heat radiating from his body as they sank into the cushions. 

As the opening credits rolled, Tori found herself stealing glances at Jude, who was focused on the screen. She couldn’t help but admire the way the soft light illuminated his features, the way his lips curved into a smile at the funny moments in the film. 

Halfway through the movie, Tori felt a wave of drowsiness wash over her. She leaned her head against Jude’s shoulder, feeling safe and content. Jude glanced down at her, a soft smile playing on his lips as he wrapped an arm around her, pulling her closer.

“Comfortable?” he asked, his voice low and soothing.

“Very,” Tori replied, her eyes fluttering closed for a moment. She felt a sense of peace envelope her, the stresses of the day fading away as she relaxed against him.

As the movie continued, Tori felt Jude’s fingers gently brushing through her hair, a tender gesture that sent shivers down her spine. She looked up at him, meeting his gaze, and in that moment, the air between them shifted. 

Jude’s eyes darkened with desire, and Tori felt her heart race as he leaned in closer. “Can I kiss you again?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Yes,” Tori breathed, her heart pounding in her chest.

Their lips met softly at first, a gentle exploration that quickly deepened as the kiss ignited a fire within them both. Tori melted against him, her hands finding their way to his hair as she pulled him closer, deepening the kiss. 

Jude responded eagerly, his hands roaming down her back, pulling her against him as the kiss grew more passionate. Tori felt a rush of heat flood her body, her senses heightened as they lost themselves in each other.

Pulling Tori into her lap so she straddled him, Jude wrapped his arms around her waist, holding her close as their kiss deepened. Tori could feel the warmth radiating from his body, and it sent a thrill through her. She couldn't recall the last time she felt so desired, so wanted, and it both exhilarated and terrified her.

As they kissed, Tori felt the world around them fade away. The flickering light from the television was just a backdrop to the intensity of the moment, and all that mattered was the connection they were sharing. Jude’s hands slid up her back, his fingers going beneath her top as he groaned into her mouth at the realization she wasn't wearing a bra. 

Tori gasped softly at the sensation, her body responding instinctively to his touch. The warmth of his hands against her skin sent shivers down her spine, igniting a spark of desire that coursed through her. She felt emboldened, the initial nerves washing away as the kiss deepened and grew more passionate.

Jude pulled her closer, his hands exploring the contours of her back with a tenderness that made her heart race. Tori’s fingers tangled in his hair, and she felt a rush of exhilaration as they lost themselves in the moment, completely consumed by the chemistry crackling between them.

But as the kiss intensified, a small voice in the back of Tori’s mind reminded her of the speed at which things were moving. She reluctantly pulled back, breathless, her heart pounding in her chest as she searched Jude’s eyes for reassurance. 

“I should go,” she breathed, feeling a mixture of apprehension and desire, unsure of where the night would head if she remained in his presence. 

“Stay,” Jude murmured, a frown on his browline as he looked into Tori’s eyes willing her to heed him. “Please,” he added softly, his voice laced with sincerity.

Leaning down Tori pressed her lips against his once more, her arms wrapping around his shoulders as he stood to his feet with her in his arms. 

He moved as of she was weightless as he moved from the living room and upstairs to the upper level of his house. 

Pushing open his bedroom door without parting lips with Tori, Jude used his foot to close it behind himself, locking them away from the rest of their world. 

All rationale had left Tori’s mind and she and Jude indulged in each other, giving in to impulse and desire as they stripped one another until they lay tangled between the sheets. 

Jude feasted on her until she was a trembling mess in the middle of his bed. He used his mouth and tongue to render her speechless—he lost himself in the act, tasting and torturing her with his skilled mouth.

“Jude,” Victoria moaned into his ear, her legs wrapping around his waist as he sank into her inch by delicious inch, his hands splayed either side of her head as their eyes met.

“You're so fucking tight,” Jude groaned in awe of the way she felt around him, the heat and sensation almost overwhelming. Victoria's body responded to him, clenching and releasing like she was designed to fit him perfectly. 

Her back arched as he filled her completely, sending waves of pleasure coursing through them both. “Yes, just like that,” she encouraged her voice a sultry whisper that sent a shiver down his spine.

He took a moment to drink her in— the way her hair fanned out on the pillow, the flush of her cheeks, and the way her lips parted slightly as she struggled to find words between gasps. Every detail contributed to fueling a fire in him, compelling him to go deeper, to claim her in a way that left no doubt of his desire.

“Fuck, you feel good,” he breathed, starting a slow, deliberate rhythm. Pulling almost all the way out of Tori before easing back in, moving his hand from beside her head to pin her right leg to the bed, his grip firm on the back of her thigh. 

The shift in position conjured a dull ache that felt sinfully good in tandem with the pleasure coursing through her body. His girth and length surpassing any expectation she may have had. 

As he pulled almost entirely out before sinking back in, Victoria let out an unrefined moan, her grip on Jude's shoulders tightening as if she might fall off the bed otherwise. "Oh, fuck, yes...just like that," she whined into his ear, her hips bucking slightly to meet his thrusts, the ache growing with every inch that slid back into her.

Her fingers dug into his hair, not pulling but coaxing him closer, her lips finding his neck in search of contact. "You feel so good," she gasped, her teeth drawing along his skin. "Don't stop, please don't stop!"

The pleasure was almost too much, her body trembling with the force of it, but she didn't want it to end, didn't want him to pull back just yet. Tori rolled her hips again, matching his rhythm with a desperate eagerness, urging him deeper, chasing that delicious friction that was fast turning into an inexorable need.

Jude snarled lustfully as he watched his length slip from her, her arousal coating his cock in a glistening sheen. 

Turning Tori over onto her stomach in one swift motion, he reached for a pillow at the head of his bed forcing it beneath her to create a deep, perfect arch in her spine that made her hips raise. 

Jude couldn't help himself, taking hold of his cock he used the tip to circle her slick entrance. 

“Shit,” Victoria cried out, her whole body tingling with suspense as Jude's thick cockhead circled her entrance, teasing her. She wiggled her hips instinctively, trying to urge him inside.

Jude wasted no more time, pressing the head of his cock against her pussy, pushing just enough to feel that gentle resistance, before easing in ballsdeep.

Victoria let out a throaty moan as Jude thrust into her with a force that made the bed tremor beneath the weight of bodies. She arched her back, pushing her hips against him as he began to move, his pace relentless and demanding.

Each deep, powerful stroke of his cock hit a spot inside her that made her eyelids roll shut. Tori's mind emptied of all thought, reduced to only sensations—the feeling of Jude's thick length thrusting into her, the sound of their harsh breaths and slick skin colliding, the way his hands gripped her hips and held her in place.

She wrapped her arms around the pillow, using it to steady herself as Jude fucked her with an intensity that left her breathless and overwhelmed. 

His thrusts picked up speed, becoming almost brutal in their execution, and Victoria met each one with an answering roll of her hips, lost to the pleasure that threatened to consume her.

When she felt Jude’s fingers come to grip the hair at the back of her head, all bets were off. Tori let out a cry of pleasure as her eyes rolled shut, the arch in her back deepening as her thighs began to tremble. 

Panting heavily, Jude gripped the back of Tori's head, tilting it to the side as he continued his merciless exploration of her depths. The new angle allowed him to go even deeper, the force of his thrusts hitting the spongy flesh of her cervix and sending shivers of pure bliss coursing through her. Her moans of ecstasy echoed through the room, fueling his own growing need.

As Jude's grip tightened, Tori's entire body went stiff, her cries becoming choked whimpers of pleasure. She'd never experienced anything like this before, Jude's size and strength pushing her to the very edge of what she could take.

“Cum for me, Tori,” Jude groaned, his pace slowing as he watched himself disappear inside of her, completely under her spell. 

"Tori," he groaned into her ear, his voice guttural and primal. The sound of his arousal hung heavily in the air as he pounded into her, her body moving in rhythmic time with his.

Victoria's mind shattered as Jude continued to take her, his relentless thrusts driving her to the brink. She felt so full, so completely filled and claimed by him.

"Yes, yes, y-yes..." she chanted brokenly, her words dissolving into helpless cries of ecstasy.

Jude's fingers dug into the flesh of her hips, gripping her as he laid into her, each stroke easing her closer to the edge. He could feel her walls spasming around him, her pleasure knotting tighter and tighter until it threatened to come undone.

She was going to come undone beneath him, and Jude was determined to be the one to send her over. He wanted to hold her in his arms as she committed herself to the pinnacle of pleasure. 

Despite the silent cry that fell from her mouth, Jude felt it as she came on him. Her arousal dripped down the innards of her thighs as she gripped the pillow beneath the sated body. 

Pulling out of Tori, Jude held his length in his hand as he eyed her sweaty body, between her legs flushed and slightly swollen. He watched as she turned over onto her back, a playful glint in her eyes. Victoria's lips curved into a sultry smile as she beckoned him closer with a gesture of her finger.

“Not yet,” Tori purred, her voice laced with mischief. She pushed herself up onto her knees, an inviting shine in her gaze as her tongue swiped across her lips. Jude's breath hitched in his throat, anticipation pooling in his stomach as he watched her.

With an intentional slowness to her movements, Tori leaned forward, her shiny raven hair cascading over her shoulders in a soft curtain that framed her face. She took her time, savouring the moment as she moved closer to his cock, barely an inch away. Her breath washed over him, warm and tantalizing, and she couldn't help but smirk at the way he tensed up.

“I want to taste you,” she whispered, her voice husky with desire. She opened her mouth wide, taking him in slowly, her tongue swirling around the tip before she sank deeper, relishing the sensation of him filling her mouth.

“Fuck, Tori,” he groaned, his hands instinctively tangling in her hair as she began to bob her head up and down, her mouth perfect seal as she showcased her talent. Her lips and chin glistened with drool, slicking his shaft as she pulled back, only to thrust forward again, taking him as deep as she could manage.

Tori could feel him throbbing against her tongue, the heat of him igniting a fire inside her. She revelled in the taste of him, the way he filled her mouth, an offering of pleasure she was more than happy to accept. Each thrust of her mouth was accompanied by soft, breathy moans that vibrated against his length, driving him wild.

Jude's fingers gripped her hair tightly, guiding her rhythm as he watched the bliss dance across her face. “Just like that, Tori,” he encouraged, his voice thick and deep with arousal. “You’re so fucking good at this.”

She picked up the pace, swirling her tongue around his shaft as she took him deeper, pressing down to the base. The sound of her wetness filled the air, a stimulating melody that only stoked the flames of his desire. Victoria loved watching Jude lose himself in the moment, the way his brow furrowed in pleasure and his jaw slackened, his breath coming in quick, erratic gasps.

She could feel his tension riding, his breaths growing more shallow as she wrapped her lips tighter around him, sucking hard while pumping the rest of him with her small, dexterous hands. His hand found her cheek, urging her to take him even deeper.

“Breathe through it, Tori,” he murmured, his voice throaty. “Give me your fucking throat.”

Just as he was about to lose his grip on control, she pulled back, her mouth popping off with a soft, erotic sound. Tori looked up at him with lust-filled eyes and licked her lips in a slow, deliberate motion.

Without a word, she parted her lips and tilted her head back offering herself to him. 

Jude's heart raced at the sight of her, so willingly surrendering to him, and he couldn't resist the urge to claim her once more. He moved closer, his length glistening as he approached her inviting mouth. The hunger in his gaze mirrored her desire, pooling in the air between them.

“God, Tori,” he growled, his voice low and rough. He took a step closer and positioned himself at her lips. “You’re so beautiful like this.”

With a firm yet gentle grip on her hair, he leaned forward, his cock pressing against her mouth. Without hesitating, she opened wider, welcoming him back inside. Feeling him slide into her mouth felt addictive, and she immediately went to work, sucking him in deep while her tongue expertly traced every ridge and vein.

“Fuck,” he breathed, the sensation exhilarating. “You drive me crazy.”

She made soft, sensual sounds, each one vibrating around him, sending jolts of pleasure coursing through his body. Jude began to rock his hips slowly, thrusting in rhythm with her perfect mouth, going deeper with each deliberate motion. The sight of her swallowing him, her eyes shining with intensity, only heightened his arousal.

“Just like that,” he groaned, losing himself in the rhythm of her mouth as she layered her movements with a tantalizing mix of speed and pressure. 

Victoria let him take control, relishing in the way he filled her mouth, the heat and weight of him overwhelming her senses. She could feel him reaching the precipice, his every breath quickening, the muscles in his thighs tightening.

As the tension mounted, she could sense his rising need. Just when he thought he would lose it, she pulled back again, teasingly bringing her tongue over the sensitive tip before letting him slip from her lips entirely. 

“Please, Jude,” she pleaded, her breath coming in bursts. “I want you to cum on my face.”

Jude's eyes darkened with desire, the raw urgency in her voice igniting something primal within him. “Come here,” he growled, his fingers curling into her hair, guiding her back down on him.

With a decisive thrust, Jude eased into her mouth once more, and Tori’s eyes widened in delight as he filled her instantly. She loved the way he took charge, how he lost himself in the pleasure. With each deep stroke, he seemed to pull her deeper into his world, a place where only he and she existed.

The heat of him was intoxicating, and her own desire soaring in response, each of his thrusts awakening a raw need inside her. She met him with soft, enthusiastic sounds, her moans sending vibrations through his hard cock, heightening the intoxicating pull between them. Jude looked down at her, his chest rising and falling with each heated breath, the way her face glistened with saliva driving him wild.

“Just like that, baby,” he growled, his control wavering. He moved faster now, a rhythm between domination and desire with every thrust. He watched as his cock disappeared past her luscious lips, the sight pure ecstasy. “You’re so fucking perfect like this.”

Victoria's desire erupted higher at his words. She pushed herself to take him even deeper, her throat working to accommodate him as she surrendered herself completely to the pleasure of the moment. Each time he hit the back of her throat, she felt herself flutter with excitement, her body yearning for more. 

Feeling a familiar tightness in his core, Jude knew he wouldn’t last long. Her compliance was like a drug, and the sight of her completely lost in the act—her eyes glazed over with pleasure—drove him wild. He groaned, his breaths rough and uneven, “I’m going to cum, Tori...”

“Please,” she urged with a sultry whisper around his pulsating length, her voice thick with desire. “I want it.”

That single command sent Jude spiralling over the edge. He gritted his teeth as he thrust one last time, burying himself deep within her warm mouth, his body quaking with release. “Tori!” he roared, surrendering to the pleasure that consumed him, his thick seed spilling as he held himself against the back of her throat. 

Victoria welcomed the warmth, her eyes shimmering with delight as she felt the salty essence hit her tongue, a warm splash of gratification that sent shivers through her body. She let out a soft, hungry moan as she savoured every drop, the taste of him only intensifying her desire. 

“God, you’re fucking perfect,” Jude panted, watching the way she licked her lips, ensuring she hadn’t wasted a single drop. The sight of her basking in his essence only fueled his need for her more, driving him wild. 

Tori leaned back, her lips still glistening, an alluring invitation in her eyes. “I’m not,” she smiled shyly. 

Taking her hand into his, Jude pulled her body against his once more, the warmth between them igniting again. "I think you are," he murmured, his voice a sultry growl that sent currents of anticipation racing through her.

He manoeuvred them both back onto the bed, their bodies colliding with a thud, as he wrapped his arm around her shoulder. 

“When are you heading back to the States for the holidays?” Jude asked, his fingers softly tracing the skin of her back. 

“I’m not,” Tori revealed, her heart dropping as she thought about her family back home, or rather the current chasm between her and them. 

“What?!” Jude asked as if he'd just been told she wasn't human. 

“I’m staying in Madrid, I’m contemplating a last-minute New Year's trip with a few of the girls I dance with,” Tori explained, ignoring the dull ache in her chest as she offered him a soft reassuring smile. 

“What about you?” she asked intent on shifting the attention away from her. 

“I have my last football match of the year and then I’m heading back home to England to be with my family.” Jude revealed feeling bad about his plans to enjoy some time off with his family. 

However, an intriguing notion, though slightly unconventional, suddenly blossomed in his mind.

“After Christmas, I'm heading to Dubai with a few of my teammates for an awards ceremony, but I plan on celebrating New Year's there too,” Jude explained. 

“If you’d like, I’d be happy for you to join me.” he continued, feeling rather nervous as he proposed the idea to her. 

Victoria's heart raced at his offer, the thought of joining him igniting a spark of excitement within her. “Are you being serious?” she asked cautiously. 

“Why wouldn't I be serious?” Jude asked with a pout. 

“I know we are just getting to know one another and I’m already in your bed, but why?” Tori asked, her brow furrowing slightly. She wanted to be sure about his intentions but couldn’t deny the rush of excitement that coursed through her at the prospect of spending more time with him.

“Because,” he began, searching her gaze for the right words, “I want to continue to get to know you, whether it be in Dubai or Madrid.”

Tori had already let it slip that she was thinking about travelling for the new year, but the thought of going to Dubai with Jude was incredibly enticing. The atmosphere of a new city, especially one known for its opulence and vibrant nightlife, combined with the thrill of exploring more of their connection sent a rush of adrenaline through her.

“I’m intrigued,” she said, her voice dropping to a whisper. “But what's the catch? This feels… too good to be true.”

Jude smiled, a mixture of confidence and assurity in his demeanour. “No catch. If at any point you want to leave you can, I don't expect anything from you, but I would like for you to join me.”

Tori hadn’t known Jude for any stretch of time, but from their first encounter, she’d found herself drawn to him. “If I say yes, you have to promise me I won't end up regretting it,” she said, her eyes searching his for sincerity. 

Jude leaned closer, brushing his lips softly against hers. “I promise to make it a trip you won’t forget,”

[daenysx]

i got bored so here are some modern!james potter headcanons;

um- sunshine energy at its finest!!

james is one of the prettiest boys you could ever see in your life

his smile lights up every room he walks in

he has to take extra five minutes every morning to fix his hair because he always puts his head wrong on the pillow and messes the shape of his thick, wavy hair

heavy sleeper!! (cutest though, sometimes he sleeps with his mouth open)

he's a morning person but he usually goes to bed early, claiming he has to get 8 hours of sleep

sleeps naked. to your delight.

he likes getting slow back scratches and massages, he is addicted to get kisses on his neck and his cheeks, he LOVES being babied

always runs hot even when the room is cold. he's generous too, he holds your cold body in his arms until you get warmer

i once wrote that he makes the best iced lattes in the morning, i still stand by it

he'd practice to be perfect at making your favorite drink (mine is iced latte so i had to say it-)

breakfast fan!!

he never leaves the apartment with an empty stomach, the worst he can do is take some snacks or fruits with him if he runs late

loves morning runs, morning walks, morning work outs, morning stretches. anything to wake his body up

and we probably all know this but james potter is the type of man who knows his body well

he looks good and he knows it

he also knows what he should do to take care of himself and his health

i mean he likes waking up early and starting his day, but he'll stay in bed with you if it means he'll get cuddles (especially when it's cold)

he tries to wake you up by bribing you with promises of a shower together and breakfast prepared by him

speaking of showers-

um- if you don't mind me being a little smutty here,

james potter loves eating you out

and he loves it more when he gets to wake you up to his mouth

and he does it again when he convinces you into shower

he does it for his own pleasure really

because it feels so good to keep his mouth on you and rubbing himself to soft blankets at the same time

this man is never- and i mean never ashamed of coming into his pants

like seriously, just think about it

he adores that feeling of falling apart for you, he doesn't even need to be touched

needy. and that's hot.

he makes noises in bed. never stays silent. always tells you how you make him feel.

he likes being called 'my love'

king of getting you flowers because 'they made him think of you'

he makes fun of his blurry sight every time he loses his glasses

he can't read for long (sleepy boy alert) but he likes it when you read a book out loud for him

tries to compete with remus on how many movies he can watch in a row without falling asleep

he loses of course

he complains about sirius' smoking (stop acting like a saint prongs) but he takes a few drags when he's too stressed

now that's the thing- james potter doesn't like to burden others with his stress

he keeps things to himself when he's not joking

his glossy eyes give him away though

precious boy

he blinks a few quick tears on your neck when it gets too much

let's keep going with happy james because i can't handle the thought of him being sad

the best hugger ever!!!

strong arms, broad chest, smells perfect, knows how to squeeze your body with the best amount of pressure

you forget everything when he holds you

he never pulls away from a hug first

just my dream guy

another thing- he is so proud of himself when you laugh at his jokes

has a group chat with remus and sirius

never stops sending memes, sometimes drives remus insane

his spotify playlists are so complicated because his music taste changes with every song

he wants you to choose the music every time you're in his car

guys- james potter brainrot is something else, i swear i love him so much

that's all for now, let me know if you'd like a part 2

[a-lurking-fae]

Thinking about the reader being Focalors/Furina's grandchild. What if they adopted a child, and let's say that the kid could have been transported between worlds, they end up in Gotham, taken in by Martha and Thomas Wayne.

Now, after a couple of years, readers mom ends up with Bruce. He takes in Dick, then Jason, after your mom gets pregnant, and during childbirth, she dies. Instead of Bruce neglecting the reader because "They were the reason why my love is dead." type of neglect (っ- ‸ - ""), which is always pretty stupid if you ask me,

He can't look at the reader because you look like a mix of both the two women he has truly loved in his life. His mother, the one who sang him bedtime songs, the one who brought him to his love, your mother. The one who accepted him for his faults, the one who was there during rough times, the one who gave him the greatest gift of all time— you.

But instead of treasuring the precious diamond he was given, Bruce ends up throwing you away. A shame, really, after all, how can he look at you without being reminded of them? How can he look into your eyes, which took the shape of his mother, and held those (e/c) eyes that used to look at him with so much love?

Dick would also have a hard time acknowledging you. After all, you were sort of the reason why his mother had died (reader's mom), but you were her child too. You can't experience what he and Jason got from her, bedtime stories and all.

But at the same time, he can't help but look a little closer, enamoured by the same eyes that saw him, acknowledged him, loved him. He really doesn't know what to do, so he avoids you when he has the chance.

Now, Jason— he's a good child before he died. He's definitely your best friend before he died. How can he not love you? The child of his parents, how could he possibly turn away from you? So imagine his surprise and disappointment when both Bruce and Dick actively ignore you.

Oh, he is angry. How dare they! He argues with them during meal times, but they shut him down! Let's time skip a few years now, Jason is dead, then he turns up alive, apparently?

You try to approach him, hoping he was still that big brother you once knew, even though he looks a bit scary and big right now! He avoids you like the plague, you don't recognise your big brother anymore...

When Tim was taken in by Bruce, you hoped that you'd form a bond with your new brother, and he's very smart too! You hope he can help you with homework, but he says that you're not really worth his time. That stung a bit!

Then Cassandra, Barbara, and Stephanie are in the picture. You still had a bit of hope that you'd bond with your sisters! They might be different from your brothers! Ah— it's the same thing over again.

Finally, Damian, he's your younger brother. Clinging on to your last hope, you approach him, hoping— but to no one's surprise, he rejects you. He hates you so much. He hates that you were so weak, how, although he is strong, forced to cater to his mother and grandfather's wishes, robbed of the childhood he dreamed of, you ended up with a peaceful childhood, the one thing he always wanted. (He didn't know you were robbed, too.)

It's honestly your last straw, so after packing your bags, you head to your mother's home— Fontaine, and it's a hell lot more nicer than Gotham. The fresh breeze of the sea, cute adorable sea creatures, and a whole lot more things you could explore!

Your grandfather, Neuvillette, adored you, both of your grandmothers who loved you so much, the friends you made in Fontaine, even adventures you went off to. It's no surprise that you didn't want to go back. Yeah, Alfred would miss you a lot— but you're sure he'd be happy to know that you're in a better place, safe from the crime-filled-gotham!

Now, enjoy the last days in Teyvat because they want you back. How could they not? Bruce and Dick never hated you— no. They'd kill themselves before that. It's just that it hurt too much to see you! But, they've realised their mistakes now, they'll make it up to you, don't worry! Bruce will throw you lavish parties anytime you want! He has deep pockets, after all, and that old room of yours? Your new room will be next to him, to make sure you're safe.

Dick will be there for you. Even though he wasn't there before, he'll be next to you every step of the way this time and make no mistakes. He won't let you out of his sight, not anymore. You can count on the best big brother in Gotham to make sure you'll be safe. With a little help from Tim, who'll place trackers on you when you get home. It's for safety precautions, you'll understand.

Jason blew when he realised you've been missing for weeks— and none of them have noticed! He was the best big brother to you, right? Won't you come back home to him? He knows you, and both of you could bond by the things you guys used to love, right? You probably still like the colour (f/c) you don't anymore. He'll cook your favourite food with you, and all you have to do right now is to come back home.

Casandra, although a perceptive person, she never realised the small figure that trailed behind her grew up, not to be seen in weeks. She knew something was missing. The small figure that she'd see in the kitchen during ungodly hours, who'd leave her little notes of praise time-to-time, was not there anymore.

Every time Barbara and Tim had migraines, you'd be there, handing a tray with two cups and medication. They wondered where those always came from, and then it suddenly stopped. To think it was their sweet baby sibling all along! Those little hints that you were there weren't really noticed, but they appreciated you and the small actions you did for them. They want to repay the favour, don't you wanna play games with Tim? Or get ice cream with big sis Babs?

Damian will demand attention from you. How dare you give your love to those good for nothing children of lower breeding, he's your blood brother! Sure, he said he hates you— but he really didn't mean it! He didn't know you were robbed of the same childhood as him. And without his older sibling, how can you expect a complete family? You don't have to worry about being weak. He'll protect you. He's strong enough for both of you.

Neuvillette is having trouble closing the multiple portals they tried to create. With the help of the Justice league, of course. Don't worry they'll get you back sooner or later.

[florian-teurer]

In quiet hours, far from the noise,

I find peace, warm and tender.

No wealth, fame, no big dream,

Just heart and soul, gentle and clear.

A smile that comes from the heart,

A look that penetrates deep into your inner being.

A moment that lasts forever

A song that sings in silence.

No striving for the distant goal,

No longing for great happiness.

It's just the little things

They give me my heart back.

In gratitude and quiet peace,

I find true bliss.

Contentment, so simple and pure,

It's the most beautiful dress of my life.

Flo 🫶

[bokutosbabe]

જ⁀♡⊹｡° hope you think of me

( rin itoshi x fem! reader )

♡ a/n — hi all! this is part of my new series! if you know me, or my account in general lol , you'd be able to pick up on some taylor swift references in the form of titles :) i do base a lot of my writing off songs! so, i decided to rework old work and...decided to start the new discography masterlist! the masterlist will be made soon, but the basics is that i paired ( almost ) every taylor song with a bllk character! i hope you enjoy the ride ;)

♡ content — rin itoshi x fem! reader, fem! reader, set in both before rin went to blue lock and when he is a pro soccer player, the past will be in italics, the present will be normal text, established relationship, rin misses reader, kinda angst?, unrequited love, pining

♡ synopsis — It all crumbled down the day Rin Itoshi got that letter from Blue Lock. Why couldn't he easily choose one...you? or his dream? In his mind, the two couldn't exist together.

The bright lights of the stadium flicker on, casting long shadows across the pitch as the crowd roars in the background. The announcer’s voice echoes in the air, but all Rin can hear is the soft whisper of your name in the back of his mind, a constant refrain.

His eyes wander across the field, distracted by the fleeting moments that remind him of you, even though he’s supposed to be focused.

It's strange how everything about this stadium feels like a reflection of you. The banner for the jewelry sponsor—that’s the one you always liked. The colors in the ad are almost the same as the ones in your old childhood bedroom, the same shade of deep blue that you said matched the ocean.

And then there’s the scent of fresh grass, the kind that always reminded him of the times you two spent lying on the grass after school, listening to music while you tried to figure out who was more stubborn—him or you?

He should've known it would end like this.

It all crumbled down the day he got that letter from Blue Lock. Why couldn't it have been easy? Why couldn't he easily choose one...you? or his dream?

In his mind, the two couldn't exist together.

"Why do you care so much, Rin?" you’d asked after his constant nagging about what you wanted to do after high school, your voice soft but strained, like you could already feel the weight of the words before they even came.

He should’ve softened, should’ve told you everything that was happening inside him, but he didn’t. Instead, he let the silence grow thick, each word building a wall between you that no apology could ever tear down.

He pushed you away with every passing second. "It’s over," he’d said. Even as his heart ached, watching your big eyes widen and fill with tears, he couldn't risk giving up.

He had to reach him.

"You wouldn’t understand. Whatever. I have bigger things to focus on than you."

Your eyes… they were full of hurt, but you didn’t say a word. You just turned away, the soft click of your shoes leaving out his bedroom door and home sounding like the final nail in the coffin of everything you had.

The crowd's cheers feel distant now, like they belong to someone else. Rin runs a hand through his hair, trying to focus, but all he can do is look around and see you everywhere.

The water bottle with the same brand you used to buy. The locker room seats that remind him of how you’d wait for him after every match, always there, your smile the only thing that made him feel like he belonged somewhere.

He remembers the things you liked—small, silly details that seemed insignificant at the time, but now, they’re all he can hold on to.

He remembers the little things. The music you loved—the way it played softly from your car every time you'd drove to the beach, how you'd hum along with the lyrics, your fingers tapping the steering wheel.

You said the songs made you feel alive, like it was a memory of something you couldn’t quite place.

He didn’t realize until now, standing here in this stadium, that he was the one who made you feel like a memory.

He stepped onto the field, shaking off the weight of the past, but even as the game starts, the images of you flood back in—your laugh, your touch, the way you’d get embarrassed when you said something too cheesy.

The way you always made him laugh without trying to.

"You really remember everything, don’t you?" you had said once, your eyes teasing.

"Everything that matters," he replied without thinking.

Now, as he steps onto the field, the memory hit him like a punch to the gut. What really mattered? Because what he remembers isn’t just your smile or the way you made everything feel like home. What he remembers is how much you gave him, how much you loved him, and how much he didn’t deserve any of it.

The game continued on, but the colors, the lights, the little reminders—they all blur together.

Rin’s vision fades, and for a moment, it’s just him, standing still in the middle of the field, surrounded by a sea of faces, none of them yours.

And yet, every second feels like it’s laced with memories of you.

hope everyone enjoyed :)

likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated!!

[melankkholy]

anyone who knows what love is (will understand)

✎ Legend has it that the better you spend your last day of the year, the merrier your whole year promises to be. As superstitious as it may have always sounded to you, after a night without your boyfriend Leon, who abruptly left for “work” one night, perhaps you will change your mind about that particular wisdom.

cw(s): very angsty lol, fem! reader, smut but make it established relationship, t!t sucklings, lots of praises and metaphors, some lyrics from some specific songs cuz why not, p0rn with feelings obv, fingerings, p in v, MDNI

Late December in the city, the sky is gray and the air is tacky. You find yourself drifting in and out of sleep. In the mornings, cloaked in faceless clouds, you let the pale sun scorch the grass, and sometimes the hexagonal lace of snowflakes rattle your kitchen window. They are the only friends you have alongside the bitter mug of coffee you brew after you open your eyes to the dawn. For the last few days, you’ve been no different from a protagonist who could be the subject of the words written on any page of a book in which Dostoevsky describes his essential loneliness. More precisely, since the day Leon walked out that door. Your soul’s silence is deafening, yet there’s none but you in this very house. 

Who knows where he has gone?  

The joys of a romantic relationship with someone like him at first tasted delicious, and it left a taste in your whole chassis like a rare fruit that you were sure was not even from this terrestrial world.   

And sometimes, while you lay in bed, lost in dreams only God could understand, Leon’d slip away from the four-cornered plot of land you shared, that would always be your “home.” So quietly, so effortlessly, that you’d never suspect he was silently slipping into the night.

That’s what happened a week ago, and that’s what happened for the first time in weeks. Just like this morning, your arm that you threw out to wrap him in a good morning hug landed on his pillow with an idle and poof sound.   

He’s been gone for exactly a week. Hasn’t been answering his phone; the line is always busy, and after failed attempts, you stare at your screen for a couple of hours, followed by his long, inane apology messages.

“At work. Give me a sec. I’ll call you right back.” 

Wrapped in a relapse, this endless repetition of drama brings you to your knees. You keep watching the washing machine, its whirring and spinning, like some mechanical symphony. The phone rests heavily on your lap.

The clock strikes ten in the evening, and your eyes are raw, bloodshot from hours of staring at the unmerciful glow of the screen. The beeping of the washing machine cuts through the stillness, a mocking Bronx cheer to the cavernous emptiness inside your head. You rise from your knees, groggy, and load a few pieces of linen into the dryer.

The rumbling of your stomach has no hesitation in reminding you of your worldly responsibilities. You find yourself back in the kitchen as you realize that you’ve been on a cup of caffeine all morning.  

The nagging hope that maybe Leon will show up this evening pushes you to toss a little more pasta into the boiling water. Tonight. For sure. He must show up. 

Otherwise, you’ll take your leave. 

You ladle yourself a spoonful of the meal you’ve prepared for both of you, then sit at the table with two chairs. The chair opposite you is an empty, silent sphere. 

It’s eleven o’clock, and you chew and swallow your morsel until the lump in your throat tightens, refusing to go down. A dismal dinner tonight. The wine is thick as blood, but… it’s flat, uninspiring. The end of the year, and you’re dead alone.

There’s no energy left in you to answer calls from your family, even though you’ve been repeating the same things for a week straight, doing nothing else. Wake up, drink your coffee, do your vacuuming, cook for the evening. Bet your boyfriend is on his way. 

But he’s never on his way. 

Just as the clock strikes twelve, the afterglow of the snowfall lingers in the air, blending with the flashes of thunder from fireworks meant for the Fourth of July. A riot of colors, wild and unrestrained. Every shade is tangled and merged, each hue reaching out for the other. Everything that was meant for each other finally comes together tonight.

By the casement window, you entomb yourself in a troglodytic corner. It feels as though a year has slipped away since your boyfriend vanished without a word last week. The frost-bound gusts of snow from the foothills of the mountains have descended upon the city in a blanket of fog, yet the dark gray gloom seems to have done nothing to dampen the spirits of the people outside. 

The streets are teeming with joy, faces glowing beneath bundles of fur and mohair. They hold hands or hurl balls of fluffy snow at each other—men, women, and children. Their laughter rings out in the same exuberant vein as their voices when they counted down to the new year. 

Enough with all the peeping. 

You do envy them, because you once had a heart more floriferous than theirs. Yes, it’s trivial, this foolishness of pinning your welfare on a single man. But the heart knows better. Reason and logic are pushing up daisies.

So, you close your window and crawl into the saffron-colored sheets, just in time to spend another night alone.

This is Leon for you. He’s nowhere again. He owes you countless debts for the night. He owes you, big time. 

The avenue grows quieter and comatose with each passing detail of the late night. It’s a white orchid night with the first day of the new year in January, and the sky sheds its amber harmony to a royal blue. As the sun prepares to greet the city, the sound of keys jingling at the front door of your apartment vouches for the intruder’s safe intrusion.

Leon steps into your home at five in the morning and the odd minute before dawn. The space is haunted by an ageless calm, the grey walls of the room adding a suffocating dullness to the atmosphere. Nothing is in sight—neither you nor your adorable Van Cat that you adopted many months ago. 

Hanging his jacket on the coat rack in the foyer, careful not to make a sound, Leon hangs the keys onto their holder.

He’s a piece of work; he’s a dirtbag, and to face you like this, with his sores and boils, is the most humiliating indignity he can ever indulge in. He’s thought about telling you many times. If he does tell the truth, what can it do but forge a stronger bond between you?

If the DSO regulations weren’t so fucked up, he could have told you everything that was up in his head and everything else that was weighing him down. You’d listen to him forever. Besides you, he has no one else to turn a sympathetic ear to him.

When Leon opens the bedroom door softly, the sight of the silhouette in the corner of the bed sends a cold blast of chill down his spine. Here he is, right in front of you. Every time, even though you yearn to desert him, you never quite dare, because every time, the sublime, untouchable magic of something draws you here, into this vicious spiral. Yet he… He doesn’t deserve you, without knowing, without understanding, and yet you’re condemned to stay here, voiceless and stiff-necked. 

Sleep has forsaken you, perhaps. The filth of everything beclouded in this world that passes before your eyes hangs over you like rotten thoughts seeping from every corner, and Leon’s the only one to blame for it all. But, unfortunately, you don’t even have the gumption to reproach him. Maybe the root of this whole putrefying relationship was somewhere right here, in that eerie limbo. That limbo that is ready to wrap around you like a snake, implacably heinous.

Neither the creaking of the door nor the thud of his boots bouncing inside can alert you anymore. When he sits on the edge of the bed, his unaccustomed presence forces itself on you—his strange weight, his attention that doesn’t belong to you. In that fleeting moment, you wish you hadn’t turned your face to him, in those most vexatious moments of all, when all you have to witness is that breath he takes. 

A terrible ennui has possessed him, like a pallid shadow. The blues in his eyes have taken on those scarce, moonless shades of blue you hardly ever see, as if he carries all this overload—the cumulative weight of years—inside him. In those blues, your reflection is eclipsed. 

To see your reflection in his eyes… To be privy to this singular pleasure for weeks. It’s beyond words, but to experience it is hell descending on an already hellish world.

The knots in your throat refuse to let you spill your words. Even if you could, you would be shouting at him in an embarrassingly shrill volume, which would only serve the narrative of you playing the role of his already downtrodden damsel in distress in his estimation. 

You don’t want to be forward; you don’t want to cut corners. You savor this with all that’s inside you. The bittersweet road to a possible breakup and the most precious fragments of your mind, the scenarios hidden in the corners of your thoughts, still playing out in this bed. 

You’re biding your time. 

“Are you cheating on me?” Clear and unequivocal, but the way your lower lip quivers is another nuisance. Leon never thought he’d hate himself quite as much as he did at this juncture. Is he worth your tender tears? For that vent hesitating to flow, trembling with a mulish intonation? 

No. Not at all. 

Every second counts. You can’t read him, and the pall of obscurity is a parasite that wriggles inside you; it eats you. How poisonous. How venomous. 

“Never.” Leon shakes his head in disapproval. Funny how you’ve gotten to the point where you can now tell whether he’s fibbing or not by the look in his eyes. What an honor. 

“Where have you been then?” You pose the question with the desperation of a raving lunatic, bleeding and lost of all hope. Surely you must have startled him, for seeing him recoil pains you, too. 

“Work.” He slashes it off curtly. 

“Work? The hell are you, Leon? Fucking Batman?” 

Leon’s eyebrows carve a grimmer furrow. 

“Like you’d understand if I spit it out.” 

“I can’t understand because you won’t tell me!” 

You don’t know it, but he’s dying. You’re his salve, but your rebukes are toxic piles of tribulations that sap the life out of him. Even so, you’re in the right. Anyone else in your shoes would do the same. In fact, they’d walk away without giving any heed to all this. Why would anyone have a pash on Leon Kennedy in the first place?

He doesn’t make a fuss; his eyes are drawn to your trembling hands clutching the sheets, and he’s like a dog being berated by its owner. 

The problem is you can’t handle it. Never. You could never give up on him. Walking away is never easy anyway. 

The crude stitches on his right eyebrow, patched over a gash, attest to something he confronts every time he leaves you. You’re not blind. Your boyfriend is a man who is up to no good, but why is it so hard for him to clarify matters with you?

“What’re you so afraid of?” The question, now trickling out in a calmer whisper, reaches its destination. 

“Nothing.” He lies, looking you straight in the eyes. How dare he. 

The only thing he’s afraid of these last days is losing you. This thing, this house, that cat and everything else.

You don’t care. You pull his face closer, palm resting amenably on his cheek—your inmost sincere search. 

“You’re a big big liar.” 

Beautiful in your hands, but out of your hands, he’s something entirely different. He’s like a temperamental child.

He sows tender kisses into your open palm. Warms your bones. It’s been a long time since you’ve seen your boyfriend like this. Now he’s in your hands and in your arms, no more Potenkim villages to hide behind. All that is right and all that is wrong is yours for the taking, and nothing is meaningless with him.

“Fuck me.” A dusted whisper of his demand leaks through his kisses, tangential to your skin. 

He’s a pretty straightforward guy, to be honest. 

As you gawk at him, he lifts his head and winks at you, as if he hasn’t made you vomit blood for eons. It’s a figure of speech, surely, but he gets the gist. Truly. 

“Ride me.” Once again, he describes what he needs. Sweet talk, after all, is the snake’s way out of the pit.

It’s absurd to hold back, especially in these precious last waking hours you share. All you do is look at each other, timid, esurient, and uninhibited. The profound coveting and the overwhelming silence of homesickness and something about nostalgia.

You promptly pull back the duvet and, on your knees, and reach for him to chastise at his frost-kissed lips. 

As forewarned, he doesn’t back down. In a fraction of a second, he reciprocates the kiss and winds his arm around the delicate curve of your waist. Congratulations. You’re on his lap, ass snug against the rough palming of his maneuvers. When you retaliate by pulling up the hem of his t-shirt, he, in return, pushes a thrust of his hips against you. The sizzle of his whispered “fuck!” rips through your ear. The hand at your waist inches upwards and lingers on the outline of your breast, and he palms the supple flesh carelessly.

Frenetic pairs of hands are everywhere, pawing through each layer of clothing, solely focused on the kiss or the lingering zest of wine from New Year’s Dinner on your lips. The razor-edged gasp from your mouth wafts across his lips, and he takes a brief pause from the kiss to undo your bra. Tentative yet fulsome kisses alight at the center of your chest—a tiny mitigation for your little broken heart—one you’re more than capable of forgiving him for. He just doesn’t know it yet.

Wet and warm kisses ramp up from the center of your chest to your fleshy curves. Across your ribs and higher and higher. You expect the same treatment and reverence for your beautifully diamondized nipples, but then he suddenly bites down on your sensitive nipple.

“Oh, fuck you!” Your hissing voice crackles with the throes of torment. 

A characteristic grin spreads across his face as he slides his hand down the elastic waistband of your panties. He tastes the wetness on his fingers, and you already find yourself shifting your hips closer to him. Unlike his cold touch, your pussy radiates warmth, and Leon relishes it, torn between biting his tongue and stifling a little groan. 

“You’re always wet for me, aren’t ya? Even when you hate me, even when you fucking love me.” 

Reflexively, you shake your head and implore him with a mock pleading frown. Your cheeks are tinted with a mauve splash of tint, and your lips are pressed tightly together. A strange sorrow grips you, standing on the precipice between hating him and loving him—a catharsis that’s tailor-made for you. 

“Didn’t you just want me to fuck you?” You grit out.

“Mmm. No kidding. I still do. Just wanted you on my fingers first.” 

“Been gone for some weeks, angel.” His whisper burns into your skin as he gently presses his finger into your slit. “Let me take a good look at you.” It’s as if he’s testing you. Almost instantly, you greet him with a tight grinding of your hips. Leon knows he has to give it his all. And so, he pushes his ring finger inside your drenched cunt, his thumb lingering on the pillow of your clit—his muscle memory hallowed. 

“Let me make it up to you.” 

It’s not that simple, of course, but right now, you’re the one sucking his fingers inside you. Blaming it all on him is silly anyway. 

The sheen of slickness, the familiar tightness stretching around his finger, and the burning desire in your eyes are more than enough incentive for him to move forward. The heat in your stomach intensifies as his pace quickens. The thought of his finger filling you with your own cum shames you so deeply. No shit. You weren’t that “enamored” of him. 

“Save it for the best, sweetheart.” 

Irrespective of the ultraviolet and blueberry bags under his eyes, his dirty humor in the early morning hours is such a Leonian rollercoaster. The sheer pressure of his erection against your thigh jolts you, a flash of realization. Oh. Shit. You’re really bouncing on top of your boyfriend, riding his fingers. 

Letting your boyfriend lap his sugar-coated finger against your lips, you don’t hesitate to take it in your mouth. Dumbstruck by the moment, Leon observes you with iridescent eyes brimming with mischief as your tongue orbits around his finger.

Now, it’s easy to get what you want from him when you want it. For the first time ever, you peel off his jeans and lift his t-shirt slightly to see the scars hidden beneath his layers of clothes. His color is so blue, the richest shade. His scars, his eyes, even his thoughts and pills—they’re all part of him. Your touch, something new and aglow, is something he ratifies you to lay on him. 

Beneath you, though, he smiles at you, pretty and unvigilant as he withdraws his finger out of your mouth. Oh, what could he be hiding from you?

If only you knew. 

“Eyes up, doll.”

There’s not a second of disgust on your face to protest him. He fishes out your panties and folds them in the palm of his hand, as you lower your hips towards him. He doesn’t move, only watches you arch, a moony curve, and the tip of his cock glides a smooth entrance.

“So tight—fuck! So fucking flawless,” he breathes, his words satiated with tenderness, slightly patronizing but wrapped in arrant affection. You adjust yourself, taking the girthy volume his cock deep inside, so so costively. The rest follows as he undulates his hips from below, making you feel like a dumb-fucked fool in the best way. 

Always supportive, always there for you—that’s his motto. But does he know how much you try to memorize how he moves inside you? The pattern of his golden lashes fluttering every time you dip your hips for him? How your heart races each time? How about you? In your warped mind, do you have the remotest idea that every time he pounds into you, of how he holds himself back and keeps you at arm’s length so that he might not hurt you? 

“You still won’t tell me where you’ve been.” You tap a sob against his chest, but it’s a façade, a mask for how much you’re affected by the situation.

So that serious talk will come in the middle of everything. He’s really going to have to do it. 

“There’s only one thing you need to know.” He’s so out of it, dyspneic. So much so that his skin is bathed in the valedictory waves of the morning sky and the blue gleams, rendering his skin milky as fig’s blood.

“Whatever I do... is for you now.” One faint whiff just after the succeeding one. Lips parted and flushed like pearl pomegranates. 

That’s what kind of an answer that is. The languor of his words just sticks to you. The cock that digs in and throbs inside you is another story, of course—are you falling in love for the first time or dying here?

Leon can’t perdure like this. He can’t. 

He pivots your body around, albeit he’s well aware that the fleshy tugs on your ass are slugs that perforate your dewy skin. 

The roles are reversed in a heartbeat; you now are thrashing beneath him, buried in your flowery-scented sheets and squelching mattress.

His teeth sink into his lips, and his jaw, working its way up your collarbone, races across the pulse-drumming veins in your unguarded throat. 

“Please. Tell me the truth... yourself.” You beg, so to speak, just against the shell of his ear. 

“Need to know.”

The words go where they are going, but Leon can’t help himself and takes a single bite of your tender skin. Hard, reckless, certainly, judging by your fingernails marring his biceps as you carve thin and grisly lunula trails. Custom-made, just for him.

“Sh-shit!” he stammers gruffly against you, where the piquant scents waft from your inner bosom. So, you really are angry with him, pinning him down and all. You’re such an asshole, Leon. That’s what he thinks. Of course, you’d grow indignant with all the shit you’ve been through because of his ebbing and flowing assholism.

Before you can pepper him with another question about where he’s been, his stroke on your cervix cuts off your breath; your sobbing and puffing sounds break into shrill whimpers. 

“Leon! Fuck!” 

His name is a litany on your lips; it’s nothing without you, nothing without your breath mingling with his. Your walls flutter around him, and he swipes his thumb across your puffy clit with a delectable token, his forehead melded with yours.

“I fucking love you—’n promise you—I’ll tell you everything.” 

You cum before him, plummeting into a deep, profound oblivion as he recognizes the ending of his languid thrusts. He can’t go on like this; it would be a miracle—the kind of miracle they write about in those religious tomes—if Leon could last much longer with your lovely pussy walls squeezing him like this.

Still, he’s not done. He churns inside you, trying to pour himself out to the last drop, give you all of himself. His breath jabbers in serrated gasps as he stills, paradoxically, and buries the sharp end of his jaw on your shoulder blade.  

Not a syllable from you or him transiently, only the soft chirp of the morning winter birds outside, the distant meow of your cat in the kitchen—everything seems to fade away in the causatum of your ephemeral serenity. 

“I’m... listening to you.” 

He can’t distract you from the subject and from finding the certain replication you’re counting on, can he now?

“I’m still inside you, and you’re still going on about my job?” 

He can barely flex his eyebrow, cross-examining you. 

You nod in response, and yes, you know you’re being ludicrous. You screw your face in a sour pitch. From him, you elicit a deep, vibrant snort of chuckle.

“Gotta make breakfast first,” he says, lulling your face in his hands dotingly. “Just for you.” 

“And you’ll tell me everything and anything?” 

“Yep.” 

“Promise?” 

“Cross my heart and hope to die.” 

With a butterfly fugacious kiss on your forehead, he pulls out of you, and then the heat of his lips brushes on the tip of your nose. Bodily-liquids do strain the newly-washed sheets as the dewiness drips down on the velvety tissue of your thighs.

“I know I’m pretty useless,” he does impeach himself and lowers his gaze between your thighs, “I’m the reason you had a shitty last day of the year, but let me make the first day of your new year extra sweet. Just this one day.” 

Upon a small pinky promise kiss against your navel, he smiles at you, and you smile back at him. This is the ultimate make-or-break moment for him and you hope he uses it wisely.

[amirasainz]

Girl, I just listened to 'Oh qué sera' by Willie Colón and I can imagine Carlos dancing with his girlfriend to it at a restaurant or something. I love your stories so much and wanted to ask if you could write my request please😘🫠🥹

Enjoy reading and send some requests!!!

-xoxo babygirl 💙

Dancing through the night

Carlos leaned back in his chair, casting a warm glance at Yn as she sipped her drink, a soft smile curling on her lips. They were out with some friends at a cozy little restaurant nestled on a quiet street. The laughter of their friends echoed around them, but in his eyes, there was only Yn. The dim lighting added a romantic charm to the evening, and he couldn't help but notice how stunning she looked in the soft glow of the candles on their table.

"You look beautiful tonight," Carlos said, his voice low but full of affection.

Yn smiled, her cheeks flushing. "You're just saying that because you want me to finish my food," she teased.

Carlos laughed softly and reached for her chair, pulling it slightly closer to his. "I want you close to me, not because of your food," he said, his hand gently resting on her thigh as he did. His fingers traced small circles on her skin, a gesture that made her feel warm and cherished.

Their friends, a mix of fellow drivers and their partners, were deep in conversation about the latest race, but Carlos and Yn were in their own little world. She reached over, stealing a bite of his steak, her eyes glinting with mischief.

"Hey! I was saving that!" Carlos chuckled, but his tone was playful. "Here," he said, cutting off another piece and offering it to her. "Let me feed you."

Yn raised an eyebrow but accepted the piece, her lips brushing his fingers in the process. She smiled up at him. "You spoil me, you know that?"

Carlos just shrugged, his eyes softening. "It's not spoiling when I enjoy doing it," he replied. "You deserve it."

They continued like this, sharing bites of food, laughing at inside jokes, and exchanging sweet glances. Every time their eyes met, Carlos felt his heart flutter like it had on the first day they met. Yn had a way of making everything feel right in the world.

As the evening progressed and their friends started heading off to other places, Carlos and Yn remained at the table. The restaurant had started to empty out, the noise settling into a more peaceful hum. It was just the two of them now, the quiet punctuated by soft conversations between the two, occasionally interrupted by the distant clinking of glasses.

Carlos looked around, sensing the change in atmosphere. He reached over, squeezing Yn’s hand, which was resting on the table. "Hey," he said softly. "What do you say we stay a little longer, just the two of us?"

Yn met his gaze, her heart warming at the thought. "I’d like that."

As they sat there, savoring the peacefulness, a new song began to play over the restaurant's speakers, the familiar tune immediately catching Carlos's attention. His eyes lit up as the first few notes of "Oh Qué Será" by Willie Colón filled the air. He knew immediately it was Yn’s favorite song.

Without missing a beat, Carlos stood up and extended his hand toward her with a playful grin. "May I have this dance, my lady?"

Yn’s eyes sparkled with delight. "Here? Now?" she asked, her voice full of excitement.

Carlos nodded, his smile never wavering. "Of course. No better time than now."

Yn’s face broke into a wide grin as she placed her hand in his. He helped her to her feet, leading her out of their seat and onto the small dance floor that had been empty up until now. The soft lights above them made the moment feel like something out of a dream. The song was a slow salsa, and Carlos immediately pulled her close, his hand resting lightly on her waist while his other held her hand. Yn placed her other hand gently on his shoulder, feeling the warmth of his touch.

They moved together, the music flowing through them as they swayed to the rhythm. Carlos's fingers lightly brushed her back, sending shivers down her spine. He loved how easily they fit together, as if they were two puzzle pieces.

"You know," Carlos murmured as he twirled her gently, watching as she laughed, her eyes sparkling. "I could twirl you all night long."

Yn laughed, her voice light and musical. "You're just saying that because you know I can't stop giggling when you do."

"Exactly," he teased, grinning as he spun her around again, watching her smile grow wider. He loved hearing her laugh—especially when it was because of him.

They danced, spinning and swaying, laughing at their own clumsy movements as the song picked up a little, but always staying close to one another. Carlos would pull her back in whenever she wandered too far, always with a gentle smile and a soft laugh of his own. Each time they came together, their gazes locked, and the world outside seemed to fade away.

As the music slowed, Carlos pulled her closer, his arms wrapped securely around her. He rested his forehead against hers, his breath warm on her skin. "I love you," he whispered, his voice full of sincerity.

Yn's heart skipped a beat at the words. She placed her hand on his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart under her fingers. "I love you too," she replied, her voice just as quiet and filled with emotion.

They stayed like that, dancing slowly, their movements almost imperceptible, as if time had no meaning in that moment. The song ended, but neither of them wanted to let go. Carlos continued to hold her close, and Yn leaned her head on his chest, listening to the rhythmic beat of his heart, a comforting reminder of the love they shared.

"You know," Yn said softly, still in his arms, "this is the best part of the night."

Carlos grinned, his thumb gently stroking her back. "I agree," he said, kissing the top of her head. "But we’ve got all the time in the world for more moments like this."

And as they stood there, wrapped in each other's arms, the world outside seemed far away. There was no rush, no place they needed to be—just the two of them, sharing a moment of quiet, gentle love.

[kingofbodyrolls]

Announcement

Hey everyone 💕 So, today is officially the last day of 2024 for me, and I wanted to take a moment to reflect—both on the happy things and the sad stuff (depending on how you look at it).

Let’s start with the good news! I’m just one single follower away from a milestone I honestly never thought I’d reach 😭 I can’t believe it—it’s surreal, and I owe it all to you amazing people 🫂 Seriously, thank you so much for supporting me, cheering me on, and just being here. You’ve made this little corner of the internet feel like home.

Now, onto the heavier news… Even though I’m happy about reaching this milestone, there’s this dull ache beneath it, like it doesn’t really mean as much as it should. Lately, I’ve felt like I’m screaming into a void, and no matter how much I pour into my writing, the engagement doesn’t seem to reflect the effort or heart I’ve put into it. Don’t get me wrong—I love every single one of you who’s ever sent me a message, liked a post, or simply stopped by to read. You mean the world to me. But there’s this persistent feeling that I’m running on fumes, and I’ve been carrying it for over half a year now.

This year alone, I wrote 530k words—let that sink in for a moment. That’s a whole novel series. And while I’m proud of the stories I’ve told, I’m also exhausted. Writing has always been my outlet, my way to process trauma, to heal, to laugh. It’s blood, sweat, and tears poured into every word. But when the response is so quiet, it leaves me wondering if it’s all worth it—or if it’s just my trauma whispering that I’m unlovable (ugh, trauma’s such a drama queen sometimes).

I know many of you care deeply, and I’m endlessly grateful for the asks, DMs, and chats on Discord that brighten my days. But when my heart isn’t in it anymore, continuing just for a handful of people—even those I adore—doesn’t feel healthy for me. So, for now, I’ve decided to step back from writing fanfics. Not because I don’t love it (or you!), but because I need to figure out what I’m feeling and where I stand with all of this.

About Songs of the Heart… This story was written for my dear friend @remmykinsff, and it’ll be my last fic. I’ll still post it—along with some small drabbles for the series (I’m calling it Songs of the Heart: The Notes)—because I owe my characters that final bit of healing. But after that, I’ll put down the fanfic pen, at least for a while. I hope you understand.

That said, I’m not leaving Tumblr completely! I’ll still be here to read the amazing stories you all create, to share love and support for other authors, and to occasionally pop in and say hi. But I’ll probably delete the app from my phone (it’s way too easy to spiral here), and I might go MIA for stretches of time. If you want to reach out, you can always find me on Discord (I’m kingofbodyrolls there, too!).

So, I guess this isn’t goodbye—it’s more like hitting “pause.” Maybe one day, I’ll come back to finish those stories I had planned, or even to tackle the milestone requests I’ve been dreaming of doing. Who knows? But for now, I need to slow down and breathe.

To everyone who’s supported me, talked to me, or simply existed here—you’ve made this journey so special. Thank you from the bottom of my heart. You’re incredible, and I hope 2025 brings you so much joy, love, and light. Keep going, okay? You’ve got this 🫂✨💕

[georgiasbrainstuff]

With 2024 coming to a close, here are ten of my favourite edits since I started posting on tumblr (and making edits tbh) in August. This includes some extra commentary on my process and thinking etc.

I hope you enjoy, and thanks for being here. <3

The F1 theme song (Oscar) - My first adventure into making 'um'thems. Thank you Oscar. I don't think I would have made any videos without your ummmming as inspiration.

Control (Oscar/Maxcar/Landoscar) - My first proper edit. I LOVE this edit (and this fic). I didn't scale any of the videos, so it was purely filter and transitions. It was magical (to me) the way the song fit the mood of the fic, and I couldn't get it out of my head until I made it. This Oscar is my fave.

Expensive (Lestappen) - First time I realised that I record off Netlix lol. This dynamic was such a challenge to portray, but such fun. I tried to give it a more 'movie trailer' feeling. Could never live up to the fic though.

The love letter (Landoscar) - Really proud of the audio especially in this one. I actually started out with a completely opposite vibe (Lando being more petty and kinda bitchy towards Oscar), but then it evolved into this. I really wanted to make it more rancid though, but the love vibes got me. This fic also <3

Coffee (Charlos) - THE NARRATIVE OF IT ALL. I am not a Charlos fan but I have had such fun editing them. Carlos not wanting to win the race or fight for the second place in the constructor's because then there would be so much more celebration at Ferrari and he wouldn't be able to handle it because he knows they don't love him anymore. I really hope I got that across.

Oscar-winning tears (Charlos) - AGAIN. THE NARRATIVE. I can't. I had been thinking of editing to this song for a while, but when I saw the clips of Carlos crying... I was a shark and there was blood in the water. I knew what I had to do. Anyway, sorry Carlos, thank you for crying. <3

What can I do? (Landoscar) - I knooowww... It's literally just a compilation of clips... But they are so cute. And I really love this song.

The Leclerc siblings (Oscar/Ollie/Leo) - This is still a fever dream. I spent a day collecting pictures, then painstakingly editing this together. It is still my most insane idea and creation. It kinda fell into place as I was putting it together. But still, I spent so many hours on this. Crazy.

Girly secret (Max) - Another super stupid video, but I think it is hilarious. The way I could bend it to 'fit' Max's narrative of being the teammate killer... and how he is thinking about killing Liam. I don't know. It is funny to me.

Unstoppable (Landoscar) - The process of this was the best part for me. It was so cool to have @twinkodium tell me about their idea, and then the real challenge began of making it. I spent so long deciding on clips and trying to get the timing correct. I am so glad they liked it and that others did too.

If you have read until the end, thank you so much for being a part of this awesome little tumblr community. I have had such fun creating and interacting with everyone. I can't wait for 2025. Happy New Year <3

[winxanity-ii]

⌜Godly Things | Chapter 16 Chapter 16 | harmonized souls⌟

╰ ⌞🇨‌🇭‌🇦‌🇵‌🇹‌🇪‌🇷‌ 🇮‌🇳‌🇩‌🇪‌🇽‌⌝

❘ prev. chapter ❘༻✦༺❘ next chapter ❘

The words hung heavy in the air, sinking deep into your chest and rooting you to the spot. You stared at her, unblinking, as if the weight of her revelation had turned you to stone. It was as though the world had slowed around you, the faint whispers of the Asphodel Fields fading into nothingness.

Your mother's voice repeated in your mind, intertwining with your racing thoughts. Favored by Apollo. The phrase echoed like a distant melody, stirring memories you'd long tucked away.

The laurel wreath came to the forefront of your mind—its golden leaves, the faint glow that had always seemed comforting, warm, yet... otherworldly. How it had always felt like more than just a wreath, something alive with an inexplicable power.

Flickers of memories surfaced, sharper now: moments where you felt protected, inexplicably safe, as if unseen hands had guided you or a watchful presence had intervened.

The thought that it could have been Apollo's doing, that a god—a god—had chosen you for reasons beyond your understanding—left your heart pounding. Questions swirled uncontrollably in your mind. Why me? When? How could I have missed something so profound?

"I... I don't understand." Your voice cracked under the weight of your confusion. Your hands twitched at your sides, clenching and unclenching as you searched for something to anchor yourself.

Before you could say more, a low, teasing voice interrupted, slicing through your spiraling thoughts like a blade. "Time's up, little musician~"

You jumped, letting out a startled gasp as your heart leapt into your throat. Spinning around, you found Hermes standing there, leaning casually on his staff, his golden eyes gleaming with a mixture of amusement and impatience. His sudden appearance felt jarring, as if he'd materialized out of the very air itself.

"Gods!" you exclaimed, stumbling back a step. Your hand flew to your chest as if to still your frantic heartbeat. "Do you always have to pop out of nowhere?"

Hermes smirked, tilting his head as though appraising your reaction. "It's part of my charm," he said lightly, twirling his staff as he took a step closer. "But no time for chit-chat. We've got places to be."

His words reminded you of your parents, and you whipped back around, your breath hitching. "Mother, Father, what did you—"

Your sentence hung unfinished as Hermes reached out, his hands gripping your shoulders with a firm yet gentle pressure. "Ah-ah, no time for that," he said, his voice sing-song. With a small nudge, he began steering you away from the figures of your parents. "We still have much to do."

"No—wait!" you protested, trying to turn back toward them. Your heart ached as their voices called after you, each word weaving love and urgency into the air.

"Remember, my sweet dove," your mother's voice trembled, tears streaking her glowing face. "We love you. We always have. Always will."

"Never forget it," your father added, his warm eyes glistening with unshed tears. "No matter where you go or what you face, you are not alone."

The weight of their words settled heavily over you, and despite Hermes' guiding hands, your gaze lingered on them as long as possible. Their figures began to blur in the mist, their outlines faint and ghostly as you were pulled further away.

"I love you," you choked out, your voice trembling. "I'll never forget. I promise."

But they were already gone, their glowing forms swallowed by the haze. You couldn't stop the wave of helplessness that washed over you, the questions in your mind growing heavier. What did they mean? Why did Apollo favor me? What am I supposed to do with this?

You glanced over your shoulder, your parents' words replaying in your mind, but the mist of the Asphodel Fields only stared back. Their forms, once so vivid and warm, now felt like a dream slowly slipping away. The chill of the Underworld seeped deeper into your skin, but it was the ache in your chest that weighed heaviest.

All you could do was follow Hermes, his tuneful humming weaving through the oppressive silence like a thread of light. He swung his staff lazily with each step, as though the two of you were simply taking a casual stroll through a garden rather than traversing the realm of the dead.

☆

☆

You walked in silence, the weight of your thoughts pressing down on you with every step. The two of you had just left Anticleia—Odysseus' mother—and delivered Laertes' message. The encounter had been brief, her ghostly form flickering with both pride and sorrow as she spoke of the family she had left behind.

Though Hermes handled the interaction with his usual blend of charm and efficiency, her words still lingered in your mind, mingling with your parents' farewell and the revelation that Apollo had favored you.

Why me? The question gnawed at the edges of your thoughts, no closer to an answer than when you'd first heard your mother's trembling voice. Your parents' love had been palpable, their words soothing, but the enormity of the truth they'd shared only added to the storm swirling inside you.

Favored by Apollo. The phrase felt heavy, foreign, and impossible to hold onto for long without your mind spiraling. What did it mean? Was it a blessing? A burden? A chance to prove yourself, or a responsibility you never asked for?

Hermes hummed a jaunty tune under his breath, the sound oddly comforting yet entirely out of sync with the turmoil within you. He swung his staff with an almost childlike rhythm, as if to punctuate the melody. The sight of his easy demeanor only made the contrast sharper—while you wrestled with a thousand questions, he carried himself as though this was just another ordinary day.

You barely registered the shift in his hum, the way he cleared his throat before turning his head toward you. "So," he said, his voice cutting through your fog of thoughts, "what do you think of the Underworld so far? A little gloomy for your taste, or are you just dying to move in?"

His golden eyes glinted with amusement as he slowed his pace to walk closer beside you. The grin tugging at his lips was playful, but there was a curious undertone in his gaze, as if he were studying your reaction.

You blinked, startled out of your reverie. "Oh... um..." you stammered, forcing a smile that didn't quite reach your eyes. Your mind still raced, but you tried to pull together an answer that didn't sound as hollow as you felt. "It's... beautiful. In its own way. And overwhelming."

Hermes tilted his head, his grin widening as he leaned slightly closer. "Overwhelming, huh? Guess that's fair. It's not every day you see where souls end up, or meet your parents, for that matter."

His words struck like a subtle jolt, and you felt your chest tighten. He said it so casually, as though revisiting your parents was no more significant than delivering a message.

The reminder of them—how you had to leave before you were ready, how they had seemed so full of life even in death—made your forced smile falter.

Hermes studied your expression, his grin softening just slightly. He straightened, swinging his staff again, though the motion seemed more thoughtful now. "Don't let it get to you too much," he said, his voice lighter. "The dead can be a bit... sticky. That whole lingering on-what-could-have-been thing? Not worth your time, little musician. You've got living to do."

You nodded faintly, his words washing over you without truly sinking in. Your mind was still too full of questions to process his advice, your focus dipping back into the swirling haze of what you'd seen and felt.

Suddenly, Hermes stopped mid-step. His staff lowered slightly, and his head tilted to the side as if he were listening to a sound you couldn't hear. His golden eyes flickered, narrowing slightly in the distance.

It was as though he were having a conversation without speaking, his brow furrowing briefly before he let out an exasperated sigh.

"Unbelievable," he muttered under his breath, shaking his head. His tone was sharp with irritation, but the way he swung his staff upward again was casual, practiced. "Can't even get five minutes of free time..."

He turned to you with an exaggerated shrug, though his grin was back in full force. "Looks like duty calls. Stay put near the Asphodel Fields, alright? Don't wander off. I'll be right back."

"Wait—where are you—" you began, but the words barely left your lips before Hermes was gone. His form blurred into a streak of red and gold, the faint flutter of his winged sandals vanishing into the horizon, leaving behind a ripple in the stillness.

You stood there, motionless, the emptiness of the Asphodel Fields stretching endlessly around you. The air was cool and heavy, carrying the faintest whispers that curled and twisted like smoke around your ears. The mists clung low to the ground, swirling around your ankles as if trying to root you in place.

Alone now, you glanced around. Each direction looked the same—grey, muted, and unchanging. The pale light overhead cast no shadows, making it impossible to tell where you had come from or where you were meant to go.

A faint unease crept up your spine, prickling at the nape of your neck. The world here felt alive, not with movement, but with the oppressive weight of countless souls wandering endlessly.

You stood for a moment longer, trying to calm the restlessness building in your chest. Hermes' instructions echoed in your mind—don't wander off—but your feet itched to move.

The pull to see your parents again, to hear their voices and seek answers to the questions they'd left you with, grew stronger with each passing second.

I have to go back, you thought. I can't leave it like this.

Drawing in a shaky breath, you started walking. The mist curled thicker as you moved, swallowing the edges of your vision until the world seemed like nothing more than an endless expanse of silvery grey.

Each step felt hesitant, your sandals crunching softly against the ashen ground. The faint whispers of the field accompanied you, voices just out of reach, unintelligible but filled with the weight of things left unsaid.

You glanced around as you walked, trying to retrace your steps, but everything looked the same. The sparse, gnarled trees scattered across the plain were all twisted in similar shapes, their leafless branches clawing at the empty sky. The scattered clusters of translucent souls drifted in aimless patterns, their forms blurring as they moved, offering no guide or familiarity.

You pushed forward, your heart sinking further with each step as you realized just how futile the attempt felt.

How do you find someone in a place that doesn't seem to change? The thought weighed on you, and for a moment, you considered turning back. But just as you were on the verge of giving up, a faint sound reached your ears—a soft melody carried on the still air.

"This life is amazing when you greet it with open arms..."

It was low and quiet, a voice singing with a tenderness that felt out of place in the somber stillness of the Fields. The sound tugged at your curiosity, and you found yourself following it, your steps quickening as the voice grew clearer.

"Whatever we face, we'll be fine if we're leading from the heart..."

The song was gentle, almost like a lullaby, each note laced with an ache that resonated deep within you.

Through the mist, a shape began to take form. You approached cautiously, your breath catching as the figure under a withered tree came into view. A man sat there, his back turned to you, singing softly to a bundle cradled in his arms. The voice carried a mixture of longing and peace, weaving through the still air with a warmth that felt almost tangible.

As you drew closer, your eyes fell to the satchel pooled at his feet, its worn leather telling tales of countless journeys. Beside it, a spear rested upright against the tree, its tip dulled but still holding a sense of readiness.

The sight filled you with an odd mix of emotions—a longing you couldn't quite place, paired with the quiet comfort of witnessing something so tender.

Lost in the moment, your foot caught on a jagged rock hidden beneath the mist. You stumbled slightly, the sound of your misstep breaking the tranquility. The man's singing stopped abruptly, his head shooting up, and he turned to meet your gaze.

He stood out instantly against the grey monotony of the Fields. His darker skin, deep and warm-toned, contrasted sharply with the muted background, giving him an almost radiant presence. His short, dark curls were restrained by a simple golden headband that hinted at valor, though his approachable demeanor softened any air of intimidation.

A pair of wire-rimmed glasses perched on the bridge of his nose, adding a quiet sophistication to his look. The lenses reflected the faint light of the Fields, catching the soft glow around him. His face, framed by a full beard, was alight with a friendly smile, his brown eyes glinting with a depth of wisdom and kindness behind the glass.

They were the eyes of someone who had seen much of the world—its beauty, its pain—and carried both with grace.

He adjusted the bundle in his arms, his movements careful and deliberate, before his gaze returned to you. "I didn't mean to startle you," you stuttered, your voice wavering as you quickly stepped back. "I-I'm sorry. I didn't mean to interrupt..."

The man's smile widened slightly, though a hint of sorrow lingered in his expression. "It's alright," he said softly, his tone warm and steady. "You must be new here."

He shifted the cloth gently, the swaddle rustling faintly as he held it closer. "I'm Polites," he added, his voice carrying the same soothing quality as his song. "And who might you be?"

Your brows furrowed for a moment, the name Polites tugging at the edge of your memory. Polites... where have I heard that before? you thought, your mind grasping at faint recollections of stories told in passing.

Before you could piece it together, a small movement caught your eye. The swaddle in Polites' arms shifted, the faint rustle breaking through the stillness. A soft coo followed, the delicate sound rippling through the heavy air like a pebble dropped into still water.

It was a baby.

Polites gave a gentle hum, glancing down at the bundle with a tender expression. "I'm sorry, Astyanax," he murmured, his deep voice warm with affection. "It seems we have company."

The name startled you, breaking your train of thought and pulling you back to the moment. You blinked, realizing you'd been staring, your hands twitching awkwardly as you fidgeted with the fabric of your clothes.

The weight of the baby's name lingered in the air—Astyanax, a name steeped in tragedy, one that bore the weight of a life cut far too short.

Polites glanced up, his smile as kind and steady as before. "Come, sit. We don't bite," he said, gesturing with a nod to the ground beside him.

You hesitated briefly, but the warmth in his tone and the serene air he carried were impossible to refuse. Slowly, you made your way over, the barren ground crunching faintly beneath your sandals as you knelt down. The mist curled lazily around you, blurring the edges of the world as you settled beside him.

Your gaze fell to the swaddle in Polites' arms, the baby within drawing your full attention.

His soft, warm olive-toned skin seemed to glow faintly, untouched by the pallor of the Fields. Dark brown waves framed his cherubic face, curling gently against the edges of the cloth.

But it was his eyes that struck you most—large hazel orbs that gleamed with curiosity and a quiet strength, as if he understood more than his tender age could ever allow.

For a moment, you and the baby simply stared at one another. The world around you faded into a soft haze, the whispers of the Fields growing distant as you held his gaze. Your chest tightened, a dull ache spreading as your mind began to spiral.

This baby... he never even got a chance. The thought gripped you, heavy and unrelenting. He'll never grow, never laugh in the sunlight, never feel the wind in his hair. All the small joys of life stolen before they even began.

Astyanax shifted slightly, breaking the silence with a soft coo. His small mouth curled upward, revealing a gummy smile that melted the heaviness pressing against your chest. The innocence in his expression, the pure joy radiating from such a simple gesture, broke through your sorrow like the first rays of dawn piercing through a storm.

A small, sad smile tugged at your lips in return, bittersweet and fragile. "Hello there," you murmured softly, your voice trembling as the words escaped. Your gaze lingered on the baby, a quiet wonder mingling with the ache still thrumming in your chest.

Polites watched the exchange, his own expression softening. "He has that effect, doesn't he?" he said, his tone low and wistful. His fingers brushed gently against the Astyanax's curls, the movement as natural as the rise and fall of his breathing. "Even here, in a place like this, he reminds me there's still beauty. Still hope."

Clearing your throat softly, you glanced up at Polites, your hands fidgeting with the edge of your tunic. The words felt heavy in your mouth, hesitant, as though they might shatter the fragile peace of the moment. You tried to piece them together in your mind, searching for the right way to ask.

Finally, with a deep breath, you gained the courage to speak. "You said your name is Polites?" Your voice was quiet, unsure. "As in... King Odysseus' navigator? His... confidant?"

Polites' head tilted slightly, his brows drawing together in faint surprise. His fingers stilled against the baby's curls as he studied you, his expression caught somewhere between curiosity and recognition. "Confidant?" he repeated, his tone tinged with mild disbelief, though not unkind. A faint smile tugged at the corner of his mouth, and his gaze softened. "Odysseus saw me as a close friend—maybe even a brother at times. Confidant, though?" He chuckled lightly, his voice carrying a warmth that softened the words. "I don't know if I'd call myself that."

You nodded firmly, the seriousness in your expression making his smile waver slightly. "He did," you said, your voice steadier now. "King Odysseus spoke of you often. He would recount his journeys and voyages, and every tale paid homage to the many great men he lost along the way—especially the one man he said he could always turn to for an honest opinion. Someone he trusted without worrying about disrespect or rebellion. He spoke your name with admiration, Polites."

The faint flicker of surprise returned to Polites' face, his lips parting slightly as though caught off guard. He blinked once, his gaze dipping briefly to the ground before meeting yours again. For a moment, he seemed lost in thought, his hand still resting protectively on the swaddled baby.

"Odysseus said that, huh?" Polites murmured, his voice quieter now, almost reverent. His brown eyes gleamed faintly, touched with something you couldn't quite place—pride, sorrow, and maybe a hint of disbelief. "That sounds like him, alright. Always knew how to spin a story, that one."

There was a wistfulness in his tone, a quiet fondness that carried an undertone of grief. "We had... our share of disagreements," he admitted, his gaze drifting toward the distant horizon, where the mist of the Asphodel Fields seemed to stretch endlessly. "But at the end of the day, Odysseus had a way of reminding you why you stood by his side. Why you followed him into the unknown, again and again."

He shifted slightly, adjusting the baby in his arms as his expression softened further. "I'd like to think I did right by him," Polites said quietly, his words more to himself than to you. "Even if I wasn't there to see him make it home."

For a moment, silence settled between you, Polites' gaze lingering on the horizon, his thoughts seemingly far away. Astyanax stirred slightly in his arms, and he gave a soft hum, patting the bundle gently to soothe it.

Finally, his deep brown eyes turned back to you, curiosity flickering in their depths. "But enough about me," he said with a faint smile, his voice drawing you back into the present. "Who might you be?"

You hesitated, heat rising to your face as you fidgeted slightly. The question felt heavier than it should have, your mind instinctively comparing your humble station to the grand tales of bravery and loss Polites had lived through. "I'm... ____," you said softly, glancing down at your hands before forcing yourself to meet his gaze. "The queen's personal handmaiden."

There was a flicker of something in Polites' expression—understanding, perhaps? Whatever it was, it wasn't judgment. His smile widened slightly, a gentle warmth radiating from him. "Personal handmaiden to Queen Penelope, huh? That's no small thing," he said, his tone kind and genuine. "You must have a great deal of her trust."

Your lips parted slightly in surprise, the sincerity in his words catching you off guard. "I... I suppose so," you murmured, a faint smile tugging at your lips despite your lingering embarrassment. "But it's nothing compared to what you've done. You traveled the world with King Odysseus, faced gods and monsters..."

Polites chuckled, the sound low and rich. "Years' worth of tales," he said, his voice carrying a mix of pride and wistfulness. "More than I could tell in a single sitting. And not all of them are the kind you'd want to hear in polite company." His gaze softened as he shifted the Astyanax again, his movements slow and deliberate. "But there's beauty in the chaos too. Moments of peace and laughter, even in the darkest times."

You leaned forward slightly, your curiosity pulling you closer. "What kinds of moments?"

Polites' smile deepened, his eyes glinting with the light of memory. "Fleeting ones," he said. "Watching the sunrise on the deck of a ship, knowing we'd survived another day. Sharing a meal with the crew, even if it was barely enough to fill us. Odysseus laughing so hard at one of Eurylochus' terrible jokes that he nearly fell overboard. And the stars..." His voice trailed off briefly, his gaze distant. "Always the stars. They reminded us of home, even when it felt like it was slipping further away."

His words hung in the air, rich with emotion, and you felt something shift inside you. The philosophy he'd hinted at earlier—embracing the world's beauty despite its pain—suddenly clicked in your mind. You inhaled sharply, your breath catching as the meaning sank in.

Polites noticed your reaction, his head tilting slightly. "What is it?" he asked, his tone gentle.

"It's..." You hesitated, trying to put the swirling thoughts into words. "It's such a beautiful outlook on life," you said softly, your voice trembling. "To... to see the good, even when everything feels like it's falling apart. After everything you went through—being away from your families, the war, the loss... death." Your voice caught on the last word, your chest tightening.

His words struck deep, resonating in a way you hadn't expected.

You thought of the queen—her quiet strength as she guided Ithaca through years of uncertainty, never once faltering in her resolve.

You thought of Telemachus—his sharp wit and quiet intensity, the confusing feelings you held for him that you couldn't quite untangle.

And Callias—your budding friendship with him, his steady presence like an anchor in the shifting tides of your journey.

Finally, you thought of the lyre Hermes had given you, its golden strings shimmering with a promise of something greater, though you still weren't sure what that promise meant. It lingered in your thoughts, a quiet, golden thread connecting all the rest.

Your gaze dropped absently to your lap, your fingers curling unconsciously into the fabric of your dress. The material bunched beneath your touch, a tactile reminder of the tension knotting in your chest. The haze of your thoughts blurred everything around you as your mind drifted further.

Images of your parents surfaced, unbidden but welcome. You could see their faces clearly—the love glowing in their eyes, their voices soft yet so full of conviction as they urged you never to forget how much they cared. The ache of parting gnawed at you again, your chest tightening as though the weight of their absence was pressing down on you. The memory blurred in your mind, overlapping with the weight of Polites' words, their echoes weaving through the haze.

You felt yourself slipping, your mind spiraling into the endless questions and uncertainties that had followed you since you left them behind. What did they mean by Apollo's favor? Why you? What were you supposed to do with the answers you didn't yet have?

Before you could fall any deeper, a gentle hand rested on your head, grounding you. Polites' touch was light but steady, his fingers ruffling your hair slightly in a way that felt both comforting and familiar. "Hey," he murmured softly, his voice like a tether pulling you back to the present.

You blinked up at him, startled out of your thoughts as he reached down, tilting your chin up with two fingers. His smile was warm, his dark eyes crinkling with a mixture of understanding and kindness. "Don't lose yourself in the 'what-ifs,'" he said gently. "I used to get lost in thoughts too heavy to carry, dwelling on what I couldn't change, all the moments I couldn't fix...."

He chuckled softly, the sound low and rich as his hand fell back to his side. "But it never helped, not really. It just made the pain heavier. So I started seeing things differently." His gaze softened, his voice growing quieter but no less steady. "I'll tell you what I told Odysseus... something I had to remind myself of first: this life is amazing when you greet it with open arms. You can't carry it all, not at once. But you can carry the good with the bad. Hold onto the moments that remind you why it's worth it."

His words carried a quiet certainty, the kind that could only come from experience. You felt the truth of them settle over you like a blanket, warm and grounding.

For a moment, the tightness in your chest loosened, replaced by a faint flicker of something lighter. Hope, perhaps, or at least the possibility of it.

A warbled chuckle escaped your lips, soft and shaky, as you swiped at the corner of your eye with the back of your hand. "Open arms, huh?" you murmured, the faintest smile tugging at your lips. "I think... I think that's something I needed to hear."

Polites' smile widened, his eyes gleaming with quiet pride. "Good," he said simply, his voice carrying no judgment, only reassurance.

The two of you then sat in peaceful silence, the stillness of the Asphodel Fields wrapping around you like a gentle embrace. Astyanax cooed softly in his arms, the sound carrying a warmth that seemed to echo the quiet understanding you'd found in Polites' words.

Your gaze wandered upward, drawn to the faint, hazy light that filtered through the mist above. The endless grey of the Fields no longer felt so suffocating, and as you sat there, the ache in your chest eased just a little.

For the first time in what felt like ages, you allowed yourself to breathe deeply, the weight on your shoulders lifting ever so slightly.

Your fingers idly traced the ground beside you, brushing against a small pebble. Without thinking, you picked it up, turning it over in your hand as the silence stretched between you and Polites.

Your gaze drifted to him, catching his side profile as he stared softly up at the hazy sky. His expression was serene, his lips curved into a faint smile that carried a quiet sense of peace. The faint light filtering through the mist seemed to settle on him, giving his figure an almost ethereal glow.

There was something unshakable about him—calm, steady, and grounded, as if he carried the wisdom of lifetimes in his kind eyes.

You found yourself captivated by the sight, unable to look away. A warmth began to stir in your chest, spreading slowly through your body and down to your fingers, tingling with a sensation you hadn't felt in what seemed like forever.

It was inspiration—pure and undeniable, like a spark reigniting after being smothered for so long.

Polites' words lingered in your heart, weaving through your thoughts and sparking a flood of emotions you hadn't allowed yourself to feel. Without realizing it, your lips parted, and a soft hum escaped, tentative and uncertain at first.

"This life is amazing when you greet it with open arms..."

The sound startled you, but the warmth in your chest urged you on. You let the tune build naturally, your voice carrying a mix of melancholy and hope. 

"Whatever we face, we'll be fine if we're leading from the heart..."

The melody felt raw, an unfiltered expression of the turmoil inside you. It was fragile yet persistent, winding its way into the still air of the Asphodel Fields like a thread of light.

Polites turned toward you, his eyes brightening as his smile widened. Without a word, his deep, rich voice joined yours, harmonizing effortlessly.

"I see in your face, there is so much guilt inside your heart. So why not replace it and light up the world, here's how to start..."

His tone was steady and warm, grounding your melody and elevating it all at once. Together, your voices blended in a simple, unpolished duet that echoed softly through the empty landscape; the words rising naturally between the two of you.

The baby in Polites' arms stirred, letting out a soft coo as though soothed by the music. Polites glanced down at the bundle, his smile softening as he gently rocked the swaddle in time with the melody.

"Greet the world with open arms. Greet the world with open arms..."

As the final notes faded into the mist, silence returned, but it was no longer oppressive. It felt lighter, filled with a quiet sense of fulfillment.

Polites chuckled softly, his voice tinged with emotion as he looked back at you. "You have a gift, ____," he said warmly. "A voice like yours could soften even the hardest of hearts."

You smiled faintly, your gaze dropping for a moment as your fingers brushed against the pebble still in your hand. "I... didn't realize how much I missed singing," you admitted, your voice quiet, almost as if you were afraid to disturb the fragile peace of the moment.

Polites nodded knowingly, his expression serene. "Sometimes, we forget what brings us joy," he said softly. "But it's always there, waiting for us to find it again."

You held onto his words, letting them settle in your heart. The warmth lingered, wrapping around you like a gentle embrace, and for the first time in a long while, you felt... lighter.

The peace of the moment was interrupted by the sudden sound of clapping. You turned sharply, startled, to see Hermes standing just a few steps away, his staff tucked under one arm as he applauded dramatically. "Well, aren't you the busy one?" he drawled, a playful grin lighting up his face. "Making friends, singing duets... I leave you alone for one moment, and suddenly, it's a musical."

Polites chuckled beside you, unbothered by Hermes' theatrics. "I suppose we made good use of the time," he said, his tone warm but teasing as he looked between you and the god.

You shot Hermes a half-hearted glare, your lips twitching into a reluctant smile despite yourself. "Finished with your task, I assume?"

Hermes nodded, twirling his staff like it was a baton. "Indeed, all wrapped up with a bow," he said cheerfully, though his grin faded slightly as his golden eyes flickered over the horizon. "But we can't linger. I caught Cerberus sniffing around earlier, and trust me, that doesn't lead to anything good."

Your eyes widened slightly at the mention of the three-headed guardian, and you quickly pushed yourself up off the ground. The thought of crossing paths with the Underworld's fiercest protector wasn't exactly appealing.

Polites rose too, the baby in his arms letting out a soft coo as if protesting the movement. He adjusted the swaddle, rocking the bundle gently as he turned to you. "Looks like this is where we part ways," he said, his voice tinged with a quiet understanding.

You hesitated for a moment, your heart suddenly heavier at the thought of leaving. "Thank you," you said softly, your gaze meeting his. "For... everything."

Polites smiled, warm and knowing, as he nodded toward you. "And thank you," he replied. "For reminding me that even here, there's still music worth hearing."

Astyanax stirred again, drawing both your gazes. Polites chuckled, shifting the bundle slightly as the little one's tiny hand peeked out from the swaddle. "And don't worry about us," Polites added, his tone lighter now. "We're exactly where we need to be."

You exchanged a fond smile before stepping back, allowing Hermes to nudge you gently forward. Polites raised a hand in farewell, Astyanax's coo echoing softly as though it were part of the farewell itself. "Take care," Polites called after you, his voice steady and sure. "And don't forget what I told you."

"I won't," you promised, your voice carrying the same steadiness, though your chest tightened with emotion. You glanced back one last time as Polites turned toward the withered tree, his presence a grounding force in the shifting mist.

As Hermes led you away, his stride quick and purposeful, you glanced around the Fields, your thoughts a mix of lingering warmth and quiet sorrow. The mists curled low around your ankles, their whispering voices barely audible now, as if the Fields themselves were reluctant to let you leave.

It was then that your gaze caught something—a figure wandering aimlessly in the distance, half-shrouded in the haze. Your breath hitched, and your steps faltered.

Cleo.

Even through the haze, you recognized her. The slope of her shoulders, the familiar set of her stride, the way her head tilted ever so slightly as though lost in thought—it was all unmistakable.

Her form, pale and translucent, drifted with the air of someone caught between memory and nothingness. She seemed so much smaller now, as if the weight of the Fields had drained the vitality she once carried so proudly.

She looked so different from the vibrant girl you remembered, but still, it was her.

Your chest tightened as a flood of memories surged through your mind of the girl she had been. You could still hear her laugh, bright and unrestrained, echoing through the corridors of the palace when the two of you were younger. You remembered her steady presence during long nights of work, the way her eyes lit up with mischief when she whispered secrets into your ear. 

Cleo had always seemed to know the right thing to say to make you feel seen, understood; she'd been your confidant, your friend—the one person who had felt like home in a world apart from everyone else.

But then came the darker memories, cutting through the haze of nostalgia. The betrayal.

You remembered the look in her eyes that day, the hurt mingled with guilt as she chose the side that wasn't yours. Her words had been hollow, an apology wrapped in justification that only deepened the wound. And when you'd tried to get her to reconsider, to stay by your side, she'd turned away.

She hadn't looked back.

The mixture of emotions swirling inside you now was almost unbearable. Anger, sadness, pity—they tangled together, leaving you unsure of what you felt. How were you supposed to react now, seeing her here in the Fields, reduced to a wandering shade? Was this where betrayal led? Or was she simply another victim of a cruel fate, just like so many others?

You stood frozen, your heart caught in the throes of indecision. But as you watched her move through the mist, a faint glimmer of the Cleo you once knew stirred in your chest, tugging at the edges of your heart.

For a moment, Cleo paused in her aimless wandering, her figure half-turning as though sensing your gaze. The mist distorted her features, but you could swear there was still a faint shadow of the warmth she once carried, hidden somewhere in the hollow outlines of her face.

Did she know you were there? Could she feel the weight of your eyes on her? Or was she too far gone, trapped in the fog of the Fields, where memories blurred and identities unraveled?

Hermes' footsteps continued ahead of you, his humming drifting faintly through the air. But you couldn't move. Your feet felt rooted to the ground as you stared at her, unsure of what to do, what to feel.

After what felt like an eternity, you swallowed hard, pushing down the lump in your throat. Not now, you thought, your hands clenching into fists at your sides. This isn't the time. But the sight of her lingered, tugging at you like a frayed thread that refused to let go.

I'll come back, you vowed silently, your heart heavy with resolve. I'll return for her.

Slowly, you turned to follow Hermes, the sound of his humming growing louder as you forced yourself to move. The image of Cleo began to fade into the mist behind you, but her presence remained etched in your mind, sharp and unrelenting.

Ahead, Hermes glanced back over his shoulder, his golden eyes narrowing slightly as he noticed your slowed pace. "Something catch your eye, little musician?" he asked, his voice casual but laced with curiosity.

You forced a small smile, shaking your head. "Just... thinking."

Hermes raised a brow but said nothing more, his expression flickering with fleeting amusement as he turned back and continued onward. You followed, your steps slow and deliberate, the vow you'd made settling firmly in your chest like an anchor against the swirling tide of your emotions.

Whatever had happened between you and Cleo, whatever pain still lingered, you couldn't leave it like this. Not forever.

The weight of that thought followed you as Hermes led you through the shifting mists of the Asphodel Fields. His humming faded as he stopped in front of a patch of shimmering air. He motioned for you to step closer, his hand light on your back as he guided you.

You hesitated, casting one last glance at the hauntingly grey expanse behind you, then drew a deep breath and stepped forward.

The sensation hit you like a wave.

The world twisted, folding in on itself as though reality was nothing more than a thin sheet being crumpled. The cool air of the Underworld was replaced with an oppressive, disorienting warmth.

Your stomach flipped, your vision blurred, and for a moment, it felt as if you were spinning, weightless, and tethered all at once.

Then, with a sudden snap, it was over.

A/N: ahhh, my bby polites 😩❤️❤️ imma have to make a short fic for him omm if its the last thing i doooooo

Tag List: thesimppotato11 alassal jackintheboxs-world uniquetravelerone

[l-amplights]

MY HUGE TPOT 15 THEORIES AND OBSERVATIONS AND JUST RENERAL RANTS AND AUTISM POST. SPOILERS AHEAD

i NEED TO TALK ABOUT EAN AND VERPT(? NO SUBTITLES YET) RIGHT NOW

I NEED PEOPLE TO REALISE THEY CALLED THEMSELVES A LETTER. NOT A VARIABLE. A LETTER. ALSO CALLS VERPT A LETTER.... also awesome 1 legged algebralien and no limbed. we love to see variations :> excited for eventuall floater algebralien

PLEASE CORRECT ME IF IM WRONG BUT ASSUMING THIS IS WHERE THE ALGEBRALIENS COME FROM I THINK THIS IS THE FIRST TIME WEVE SEEN THIS???

HUGE WIN FOR NUMBER AUTISM

SOMETHING I JUST REALISED WHILE GOING FRAME BY FRAME FOR LAST IMAGE, MARKER. IS PURPLE HERE BUT THEN

YOU CAN SEE THE EFFECTS TAKING PLACE!!!!!

THATS AWESOME!!!!

these little shits are remind me of goo man from TPOT 11 (out of the blue)

looking back at goo man im not sure why

IM SO HAPPY THE VR HEADSET HOST FINALLY GOT USED

according to the awesome wiki

"The character was shown during the production of BFB. They may have been the original host of BFB, given the tweet description, but was replaced by Four and X.

Sometime after the VR Headset post was posted in jacknjellify's Twitter, Satomi clarified VR Headset was never meant to be a host or any sort of character, and was drawn simply because Michael thought they would be cool to draw."

HIIII PROFILEY... AWESOME TO SEE THEM BACK. REALLY COOL PARALELL HERE METHINKS BC THEYRE VOICED BY THE SAME GUY AS TWO :>

jumping around a bit. this was shown earlier and not expanded on untill the end. this. this drives me insane

thats ones equivilent of the fourest, it has a link to the equation playground I WAS RIGHT

very interesting its also plant based.

I CANNOT FIND . WHEN I WAS BLABBERING ABOUT THIS SO IT MUSTVE BEEN IN A VC. BUT I CALLED THIS. also barf bag literally my face when i saw this lollll

okkkk back to like the usual time

HI EVIL LEAFY HIIII IM SOOOO HAPPY SHE APPEARED. THIS DOESNT MEAN SHE ISNT LIKE DEAD AFTER IDFB BUT IM GLAD WE GOT TO SEE HER IN TPOT .. AND AS A HOST NO LESS!!

ID ALSO LIKE TO POINT OUT not sure if this is just startled or pin here being AFRAID for a second of EL

ABSOLUTELY HEARTBROKEN RF AND BB GOT OUT SAME TIME. HORRIBLE also neat they used the ending of the bfb intro here

X host.... imagine. life could be a dream

ok let me go over all the style stuff we see here also in order

(starting at the start of cake at stake (or cake at skate))

for the entire first half its just the usual TPOT style so i wont make a huge deal of that

Ean's part is also in TPOT

Pan Flute here's part is in the style of BFDIA specifically the newer episodes, figures, thats what hes from

EL's part is also in BFDIA style (with some very old assets behind), however id like to go over something else here

RIGHT BEFORE SHE APPEARS PIN GOES THROUGH SOME OF HER BFDIA ARC CHANGES. NEAT

also the music in the background here is "The Fiber" (thats what its called in the bfb ost release at least) WHICH IS ALSO THE SONG THAT PLAYS ENTIRELY THROUGHOUT BFDIA 5B!!!! AWESOME!!!!

GONNA BE HONEST NO IDEA WHAT STYLE THIS IS SUPPOSE TO BE... THE ANIMATION IS SUPER WEIRD AND DIFFERENT. it actually reminds me of how sacri animates her shows!!

hold on i need to make a new post i cant upload any more images

[sheerfreesia007]

New Year’s Resolution

Pairing: Hyunjin x Reader

Word count: 3,192

Content warnings: Fluff

Summary: Hyunjin has always imagined how his ideal New Year’s Eve would go, a wild house party filled with friends followed by fireworks on the rooftop and a sweet sensual kiss to ring in the new year. But what happens none of that seems to happen for him?

Yeobo: Honey, Maknaes: youngest members

“Alright so I think we should have a New Year’s Eve party to celebrate bringing in the New Year.” Chan says distractedly as he sits in his chair staring at the screen of his computer while Han stands in the recording booth running through his lyrics. The rest of the guys are all spread out around the room on the couches and various chairs as it’s just them in the room after recording their lyrics for the song that Chan was working on today. Hyunjin perks up from his spot sprawled against a lounging Jeongin with interest at Chan’s words.

“Like a house party?” he asks hopefully as his mind starts to race with the idea of having a lively house party for New Year’s Eve like he always sees in the movies. It’s always been a dream of his to throw a house party to rival all of the movies that he’s seen where the music is blasting so loud that it rattles the windows. He just wants to go wild one night with his friends.

“Yeah but nothing crazy.” Chan says quickly and Hyunjin pouts at him and Felix chuckles softly in his spot next to Hyunjin. Hyunjin scowls softly at Felix knowing that Felix is remembering Hyunjin’s dream of throwing a wild house party.

“You might not be able to have your whole dream of your ideal New Year’s Eve but maybe if you can invite Yeobo you can get the later half of your dream.” Felix suggests softly and Hyunjin stays silent as he fishes his cell phone out of his hoodie pocket.

“Can I invite Yeobo to the party?” Hyunjin asks curiously as he mindlessly pulls up your text thread and begins to type out a text.

“Of course you can.” Chan says as if it’s a no brainer. “I always love having her around.” Chan admits without a thought and Hyunjin’s eyes suddenly dart over to his hyung with a slightly disgusted look on his face.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Hyunjin asks darkly and Minho chuckles knowingly at Hyunjin’s question as Chan slowly turns in his chair to stare at Hyunjin wide eyed.

“Down boy. Chan doesn’t have a shot in the dark with her.” Minho teases as Seungmin snorts while he scrolls on his phone without looking up.

“Please, she only has eyes for Jinnie. I’m pretty sure she doesn’t even know we exist whenever Jinnie is around.” Seungmin says amused as his eyes dart over to Hyunjin who’s looking at him with a furrowed brow. “Oh, you’re more clueless than she is. You two are perfect for each other.” Seungmin jokes and Hyunjin leans forward to snap at his younger friend when Felix pushes him back against Jeongin.

“It’s not an insult to her. He’s joking anyway. It’s just we can all see how the two of you feel about each other.” Felix reassures him and tries to placate him while pushing him down into Jeongin.

“Yeah it’s a little pathetic that you haven’t made a move on her after all the times she’s giving you heart eyes.” Jeongin says distractedly and Hyunjin scowls softly at the younger man.

“Yeobo doesn’t like me like that.” Hyunjin says immediately and the room grows quiet for a moment before Changbin lets out a soft giggle while shaking his head.

“Yah! You need to get your eyes checked then hyung! Must be blind as a bat if you believe that!” Han calls loudly from the recording booth causing a few of the men to start chuckle softly as they nod their heads.

“Stop, she doesn’t like me like that.” Hyunjin insists as he shakes his head before looking down at his phone.

“You really believe that?” Chan asks curiously as he eyes Hyunjin surprised, who lazily nods his head as his lips twist into a slight pout.

”Why do you believe that?” Changbin asked confused as he looks up from his cellphone for a moment to stare at Hyunjin with a look of bewilderment on his face. Hyunjin then noticed all of the guys staring at him confused and he ducked his head embarrassed at all the attention.

”She’s never told me she liked me, or made a move. I mean we’ve been best friends since middle school. If she had feelings for me wouldn’t they have come up already?” Hyunjin explains as he asks exasperatedly. When he sees all of his friends stare at him with varying degrees of bewilderment on their faces he ducks his head once more. Even Jisung was peering through the glass of the recording booth with his face pressed up against it and his hands cupped around his eyes.

”Can I tell him?” Jisung asks suddenly.

”No!” Shouted both Chan and Felix while Seungmin nodded his head eagerly with an evil grin on his face.

”Yes please!” Seungmin called out as Minho shoved him from his perch on the armrest of the couch.

”Hyune, maybe she doesn’t want to ruin the friendship. Have you ever said that you have feelings for her?” Felix explains and Hyunjin tilts his head in confusion.

”No, why would I do that when I don’t know for sure that she likes me?” Hyunjin asked and Seungmin threw his hands up in the air exasperated as Changbin giggled softly at his friend’s predicament. “I don’t get it.” Hyunjin says confused and Jeongin sighs loudly from behind him.

”She’s doing the same thing you are hyung. She’s not putting herself out there in case you reject her.” Jeongin tries to explain tiredly.

”I still don’t get it.” Hyunjin says softly and they all groan loudly.

”I give up!” Jisung calls loudly as he moves away from the glass back towards the microphone. “Let’s run through these lyrics I’m getting hungry.” He said easily and Chan nodded as he turned back around to his laptop. But just as he reaches for it he turns his head back to Hyunjin with a soft smile.

”Invite her to the party Hyune, maybe you’ll gather the courage to tell her how you feel as a New Year’s resolution.” Chan suggests.

Hyunjin sits there contemplating Chan’s words wondering if he could actually gather the courage to tell you how he felt about you for his New Year’s resolution. He then turns his focus back to his cell phone and types out a message to you. Chan’s throwing a New Year’s Eve party and I’m inviting you. Do you think you’ll be able to come and celebrate with us?

He doesn’t have to wait very long for your response, when his eyes dart to the clock at the top of his screen he figures you’re probably on your way home for the evening already. But as his eyes darted over your response he can’t help but feel his heart lift in his chest, maybe if he couldn’t get his ideal New Year’s Eve he could still enjoy celebrating it with you and the guys and maybe fulfill his resolution. Absolutely I will be celebrating with you. I can’t wait Jinnie!

*-*-*-*

Hyunjin looks down at the numerous pizza boxes littered in the kitchen of Chan and Jeongin’s apartment and tries to curb the look of disgust he no doubt has on his face. This really wasn’t his ideal New Year’s Eve party but with his new plan to finally tell you how he felt about you he was more eager for the party than he had been at first. He hoped that he would get some alone time with you to be able to confess to you since he didn’t want to do with all the guys around. He just hadn’t figured out the best way to get some alone time with you. Just then Felix and Seungmin walked into the kitchen and Hyunjin grinned at Felix as the younger man came rushing over to his side with a giddy smile on his face.

”So are you going to confess to her tonight?” Felix asked quietly and Seungmin scoffed loudly at the question causing Hyunjin to frown softly at him before turning back to Felix.

”I would love to but I don’t know if I’ll get any alone time with her. I want it to be special, you know?” Hyunjin said worriedly and Felix nodded his head at Hyunjin’s words.

”You could do it during the countdown. And ring in the New Year with a kiss.” Felix suggested excitedly as he moved closer to Hyunjin’s side.

”Yeah if you want to be cliche like a movie.” Seungmin scoffed softly and Hyunjin rolled his eyes at the younger man as he watched him grab a slice of pizza from the boxes and move to the living room where Chan, Jeongin and Changbin already were.

Hyunjin heard the apartment door open and a loud commotion coming from the living room as all the boys cheered. He knew suddenly that Minho and Jisung had arrived but when he heard Jisung calling out loudly he quickly rushed from the kitchen.

”Look who we found outside!” Jisung called out and Hyunjin nearly lost his breath when he spotted you walking in after Jisung and before Minho already shedding your winter coat. Hyunjin quickly walked over to you and helped you with your coat as you managed to get stuck in it causing him to chuckle softly at your confused state. When you turned to him he watched delightedly as you blushed embarassedly when he helped you out of your coat.

”Thanks Hyune! Happy New Year’s Eve!” You said happily to him before pulling him into a tight hug. Hyunjin fondly returned your hug before you were pulled from his arms by an excited Changbin who wrapped you in a tight hug as well. Turning to the closet Hyunjin hung your coat up as the other guys all greeted you warmly with hugs.

”Pizza’s in the kitchen so help yourselves.” Chan informed everyone and Hyunjin watched as Jeongin dragged you into the kitchen to get some pizza together. Sighing softly he wondered quietly if he’d get any alone time with you tonight.

*-*-*-*

Hours later Hyunjin finds himself ensconced on the couch with Felix on one side of him and you on the other side of him. Both you and Felix were cuddled into his sides and Hyunjin couldn’t help but feel warmth encase him from all sides as he sat there comfortably on the couch watching as Jisung argued with Jeongin and Seungmin about which movie to watch next. Jisung had been picking Studio Ghibli movies from the start and the two maknaes of the group had had enough of those types of movies. 

“We’ve watched enough of these movies, let someone else pick!” Jeongin snaps at Jisung, aggravated as Jisung tries to hide the remote from the younger men. Hyunjin watches as Seungmin sneakily circles around Jisung and then lunges for the remote, tackling Jisung to the ground who begins to scream and shriek in distress. Hyunjin huffs softly as you chuckle loudly at his side while leaning further into him comfortably, he looks down at you and smiles warmly feeling contentment start to swirl within him.

”I hope my new year is filled with this.” You said wistfully and Hyunjin chuckles softly as the other men all turn to you.

”What? Chaos and destruction?” He asks amused and you chuckle at his words before you shake your head.

”No, chaos and laughter.” You joke and Chan bursts out into laughter as he nods his head. “What do you wish for your new year to be filled with Chan?” You ask fondly and Chan looks over at you before he silently thinks about his answer.

”Time to relax and make more happy memories with my friends.” He answers and you nod against Hyunjin’s chest. You go around the group asking what everyone wants their new year to be filled with and you all find out that Changbin wants more opportunities to explore his rapping abilities and producing abilities, Minho wants to go camping more and to experience new things with the guys, Felix wants to travel more and spend more time with the international Stays, Jeongin wants to do more modeling for his brands and to go to more events for the brands, Jisung wants to explore more instrumental avenues and more rock style of music for the group, and Seungmin wants to write more songs and learn another instrument besides the guitar.

”And what about you Hyune? What do you want your new year to be filled with?” You ask as you look up at him from your spot nuzzled into his side and he smiles warmly down at you.

”I want to find the time to showcase my dancing and to paint more.” He admits and watches as your eyes stutter slightly as they sparkle prettily up at him before you nod your head at him.

”That’s some good things to wish for in the new year.” You say with a soft smile on your face.

”What about you Yeobo? You can’t just want chaos and laughter.” Felix says softly and you shrug your shoulders as you look across Hyunjin to Felix.

”I don’t know I think I’m ready to put myself out there and start dating. I think that’ll be my resolution for the new year after focusing so much on my career already. I’d like to try dating.” You said wistfully and Hyunjin frowns softly as he looks down at you with a furrowed brow, his stomach is rolling with unease at your words and your desire to date now. He doesn’t like how your words make him feel but he tries to bury them feeling dejected that his resolution to confess to you might not be the right thing to do. He wraps an arm around your shoulders and pulls you in close to his side as you hum softly and settle tiredly against him.

*-*-*-*

Hyunjin lazily rolls his head to look over at the digital clock that’s hung on the wall and sees that it’s about twenty minutes until midnight and he yawns tiredly. Another Studio Ghibli movie is playing on the television and a few of the boys are starting to nod off sleepily as they try to stay awake and finish the movie. Looking down at his side he spots you quietly snoring against him and he chuckles softly as he reaches down and brushes away some strands of hair from your face. You move in your sleep and suddenly sit up swiftly as your hands press against his side as your eyes widen in a panic.

”What time is it?” You ask in a rush as you stare at him wide eyed.

”Eleven forty, why?” He asks softly not wanting to wake Felix who’s curled up on the other side of the couch in a ball with a blanket wrapped around him.

”Oh! Good, we didn’t miss it!” You say in a quiet rush and Hyunjin tilts his head confused at you. “Come with me, please?” You ask him as you slowly stand from the couch and stretch widely. You then turn to him and hold out your hand to him.

Hyunjin gently places his hand in yours and lets you pull him from the couch before you lead him around the couch towards the closet quietly. Hyunjin sees Chan and Minho look up from their spots around the room and you wave them back down before you pull out your coat and then Hyunjin’s coat.

”We’ll be back guys. Promise to bring him back safe and sound.” You say softly and Chan gives you a thumbs up before laying back down. You then guide Hyunjin out of the apartment and towards a different stairwell, he’s still confused on what you have planned but he easily follows you.

When you lead him all the way to the top of the stairwell and out onto the roof of the apartment complex he grins at you happily before rushing over to the railing of the roof and looking at all the buildings nearby as the stars twinkle above the two of you. You follow him slowly and he looks back over his shoulder to see you looking down at your fidgeting hands nervously.

”What’s going on Yeobo?” He asks concerned and you look up surprised at him.

”Oh, well I know this isn’t your ideal New Year’s Eve party and I knew you were upset that you couldn’t make it happen like how you’ve dreamed it should, but I wanted to give you at least a part of your ideal New Year’s Eve.” You said sweetly as you joined him at the railing and he looked at you confused. “There’s supposed to be fireworks over at the park three blocks away and we’ll be able to see them from here.” You explain to him and Hyunjin feels his heart thud heavily in his chest at your words. You had planned to give him at least part of his dream on New Year’s Eve. The love he has for you seems to make his heart swell to an almost unbearable size.

”You wanted to give me part of my dream New Year’s Eve?” He asked softly and you duck your head slightly just as the two of you hear loud shouting coming from a distance.

”I mean of course I did Hyune. I love you and I want to give you everything that you desire in this world.” You confessed softly and Hyunjin felt his eyes widen at your confession. He shifts closer to you and practically vibrates with excitement.

”Isn’t it supposed to be the guy who confesses to the girl that he’s in love with her?” He asks softly and you tilt your head to the side as a smile slips onto your face.

”I mean yeah, but for my New Year’s resolution I said I wanted to try dating.” You began to ramble and Hyunjin feels his heart melt in his chest and down to his feet at your soft confession.

”And you want to try dating me?” He asked on a whisper as you slowly lifted your head to stare at him hopefully.

”Only if you’d like to try dating me?” You ask cautiously. Hyunjin grins at you as he hears the telltale high pitched shriek of a firework shooting up into the air. He instantly wraps an arm around your waist and pulls you into him before cupping your face and planting his lips on yours sensually. Fireworks burst in pretty colors behind his eyelids as fireworks burst in pretty colors in the nighttime sky above the two of you and Hyunjin feels as if he’s on cloud nine while your lips press sweetly against his. The two of you continue to kiss heatedly before he pulls away with a gasp of air and his forehead falls forward onto yours in a soft heabutt.

”I definitely want to try dating you Yeobo.” He says sweetly and you beam up at him endearingly before pulling him into another heated kiss as fireworks burst into the night sky above you.

SKZ Taglist: @intartaruginha, @kayleefriedchicken, @babigriin, @simpforleeknaur, @inlovewithstraykids

@channiesrightasscheek

[doomssoiree]

DAYDREAM SERIES(txt ver.)

❤︎ ────living through five daydreams with five dreamy boys.

── pre-ordering daydream series…

DREAM #1:

(수빈)soobin. hold me down.

TROPE: office romance, boss + assistant, co-workers to lovers

TAGS: nsfw, smut, vanilla, fluff, slice of life

I was wondering, could you hold me down?

── SOOBIN BEGINS to realize he has more than a tiny infatuation for you after you take care of him and his morning hangover, prompting him to visit unannounced in the evening to sort out his feelings with you. little did he know, that would land him in a tub full of bubbles with you.

delivering…

DREAM #2:

(연준)yeonjun. say yes to heaven.

TROPE: introduction by hookup, strangers to lovers, hurt/comfort, vacation romance

TAGS: nsfw, smut, vanilla, fluff, angst

say yes to heaven, say yes to me.

── AFTER A wild night out with your friends, you wake to find a pretty stranger in your bed, only dreading what could have happened between you two the night before; fortunately, the stranger doesn't give you the chance to regret and wallow in self-shame, quick to bring comfort to your sorrows.

delivering…

DREAM #3:

(태현)taehyun. eden.

TROPE: friends to lovers, musician + lyricist, hurt/comfort, forced proximity

TAGS: nsfw, smut, vanilla, fluff, angst

heavenly father, I know I'm stuck in my ways, searching for a brighter day.

── A STRUGGLING musician finds himself in a depressive state during a tough time in his career, in the midst of finding a new lyricist and unable to find inspiration for his album. on the way to a venue for a concert, he meets you, a gorgeous barista with a passion for singing and a book full of unused lyrics. he convinces you to help him write for his album and later finds himself stuck in your apartment due to fans and a delayed flight, creating a spark between the two of you.

delivering…

DREAM #4:

(범규)beomgyu. kiss of life.

TROPE: strangers to lovers, fated lovers, vacation romance, opposites attract

TAGS: nsfw, smut, vanilla, fluff, mild angst

there must have been an angel by my side, something heavenly from above, that led me to you.

── BEOMGYU SAVES you from nearly drowning after you friends thought it was funny to throw you in the water, prompting him to steal you away and make you spend the rest of your vacation with him. the five days spent alone with him creates sparks and romantic tension that can only be defined as fate.

delivering…

DREAM #5:

(휴닝카이)hueningkai. pigment.

TROPE: friends to lovers, photographer/painter + musician, roommate romance, artist becomes the muse

TAGS: nsfw, smut, vanilla, fluff

I would color every moment; make it feel like it's forever.

── HUENINGKAI FINDS that you always settle for being the artist and never the muse, so he decides to make you the muse by writing a song about you and hold a little concept photoshoot. as he captures each moment, he finally realizes why you like being the artist so much, because as he focuses on making each photo perfect, he realizes just how divine you truly are.

delivering…

THANK YOU for pre-ordering the daydream series, I hope this package finds you well!

── ciao belle❀

©doomssoiree

[kirammanswifey]

《A Love Written in Pain(t)》

Ekko

writer's note: i'm sorry for making my boy suffer again, ekko deserves better but i'm a sucker for drama. anyways, this little (pretty long) scenarios comes from my arcane imagines, i'll let the link down there for anyone is interested, also i'll be posting a story for each one of those scenarios for this week, tomorrow it's mel's turn ;)

link:

warnings: fluff, angst, terminal illness, death of oc, ekko is a romantic sweet talented baby, reader can be a jerk sometimes but she kinda cool sometimes.

The music vibrated in the air, blending with the scent of fresh paint and street food. You had come to the urban festival on a friend's recommendation, but you never imagined it would be an afternoon that would change your life. Artists were filling the city's gray walls with bright colors and messages of hope, and among them, one boy stood out.

His white hair contrasted with his skin, and the agile movement of his hand as he slid paint onto the wall was almost hypnotic. The mural he was creating seemed to come alive with every stroke: a girl holding a broken clock, surrounded by gears that spun toward nowhere. The image had something deeply melancholic about it, as if telling a story only a few could understand.

You watched him from afar, too shy to approach, until he noticed your presence. He turned his head and smiled at you, his eyes shining with a mixture of curiosity and kindness.

"Do you like it?" he asked, coming down from the scaffolding with the same ease he seemed to do everything.

"It’s... impressive. But it also feels sad, like it’s about a loss or something that can't be recovered."

His eyebrows raised slightly, surprised. "That's exactly what I wanted to convey. It’s about time. How we always think we have more of it than we really do, but we never know when it runs out."

His explanation fit perfectly with what you had felt while observing it. "I saw it more like a fight... like she doesn't want to give up, even if the clock is already broken."

For a moment, Ekko seemed to look at you differently, as if measuring something invisible. "I’ve never thought of it that way. I like that perspective. I guess that’s what’s great about art, right? It’s a conversation."

You smiled, feeling for the first time like someone understood how you saw things. "I guess so."

"Do you always analyze strangers' murals?" he joked, a playful smile on his lips.

"Only when they make me feel something," you replied with a hint of shyness, but without looking away.

"Well, then that’s a compliment."

Hours passed, but you didn’t even notice as the sun began to set. Talking with Ekko felt like discovering a song you didn’t know you needed in your life. He told you about his workshop, his passion for helping the community, and his dreams of changing the world, one gadget at a time.

At some point, he asked about your story, and although you weren’t the type to open up easily, you felt like you could be honest with him.

"I work with kids," you began, searching for the right words. "At an orphanage near my university. I like to think I can do something for them, even if it’s small. I’m studying psychology, and I want to help people like them... people who feel alone."

Ekko nodded, as if understanding every word. "That’s amazing. It’s like... you take care of people, and I try to make sure they take care of the world around them. Maybe you should stop by my workshop sometime. I work with kids from the neighborhood, teaching them how to fix things, build gadgets. We could join forces."

The enthusiasm in his voice was contagious, but you couldn’t help feeling a pang of doubt. It had been a long time since you let yourself connect with someone new, for reasons he didn’t need to know.

"Really? You take anyone?" you joked, trying to lighten the mood.

"Only if they have a good eye for art and a heart for kids. You seem to qualify."

When you got up to say goodbye, he pulled out his phone and offered you his contact. "In case you decide to visit the workshop."

You took the phone, feeling a mix of excitement and fear. You didn’t know what you were getting into, but something told you that Ekko wasn’t someone you’d easily forget.

By the end of the day, as you walked back home, you couldn’t stop thinking about him. His paint-stained hands, his sincere laugh, and that strange connection you felt from the moment he looked at you.

You didn’t know it yet, but you had just met the love of your life.

A few days after the festival, you still couldn’t get Ekko out of your head. There was something about him that fascinated you: the spark in his eyes when he talked about his dreams, the passion behind every word, his way of seeing the world with optimism despite the struggles. You found yourself re-reading the festival brochure and checking his social media profile, where he shared glimpses of his life: videos of his skate tricks, photos of murals filled with messages of resistance, and small clips explaining how to build gadgets. And pictures of him too and... he was kinda cute.

Finally, you decided to message him.

"Hey, I’m the girl from the mural. You said I could come by your workshop... Is the invitation still open?"

The reply came faster than you expected: "Of course. Come by anytime. The kids will be happy to meet you. Does 4 PM today work?"

The workshop was located in an old brick building in a lively neighborhood. The exterior walls were covered in vibrant graffiti that seemed to tell stories. The main entrance had a huge phrase in bold letters: "We build the future together." When you walked through the door, you found yourself in a space that radiated creativity and chaos in perfect harmony. There were tables filled with tools, parts of half-built gadgets, unfinished murals covering the walls, and a group of kids focused while Ekko enthusiastically explained something to them.

When he saw you, his face lit up, he said with sarcasm: "Hey, the mural girl is here!

You blushed.

"I hope I’m not interrupting," you said, feeling a little shy as all eyes turned toward you.

"Not at all. Actually, come here. I want you to see this."

He led you to a table full of small artifacts and technological pieces. "This is my experiment corner," he said, pointing proudly at the mess. "This is where the magic happens, although sometimes the magic is more frustrating than anything else."

The kids started to gather around, curious, and Ekko introduced you with a warmth that made you feel at home. "She works with kids too. She helps them find their way."

One of the younger ones looked at you with bright eyes. "Really? Do you do cool things like Ekko?"

You bent down to their level, smiling. "I don’t build things like he does, but I try to help people find their strength. Sometimes, the most important thing isn’t what we do with our hands, but with our hearts."

Ekko, who had been listening, looked at you with a mix of admiration and tenderness. "That was deep. I’ll have to write that down for my next mural."

Hours passed in the workshop. You helped the kids with their projects, painted a couple of things with Ekko, and learned more about his life. In a moment of calm, while the kids were absorbed in their creations, Ekko sat next to you, a screwdriver in hand and a thoughtful expression on his face.

"You know? This place means a lot to me," he started, his tone more serious than before. "When I was a kid, there was nothing like this in my neighborhood. Growing up here was... complicated. There wasn’t always someone to turn to when things got tough."

"How did you manage to get through it?" you asked, genuinely interested.

Ekko smiled sadly. "It was thanks to my mom. She always told me that, even though we couldn’t change where we were born, we could change what we did with it. She taught me not to give up, to find ways to transform things, even if they were small. When she died... well, I promised myself I’d do something so other kids wouldn’t have to feel as alone as I did."

He paused, fiddling with the screwdriver in his hands. "At first, I didn’t know how. I just knew I wanted to make a difference. That’s when I discovered skateboarding, art, and technology. They were my escapes. And over time, they became my way of communicating, of creating something that mattered."

You felt a lump in your throat listening to his story. There was something about the way he spoke, the vulnerability behind his words, that made every detail come alive. "You’ve done something incredible here, Ekko. This place... it’s not just a workshop. It’s a home."

He looked at you, surprised by your words, then smiled, although his eyes glowed with contained emotion. "Thanks. Sometimes I wonder if I’m doing enough. But hearing that... it makes me think maybe I am."

"You’re amazing." You squeezed his hand as a gesture of affection and respect, which made him smile shyly.

When the day ended, Ekko walked you to the door of the workshop. "So, what do you think?"

"I loved it! It’s like a refuge from the world."

He smiled, scratching the back of his neck with some shyness. "I try to make it that way. And I’m glad you came. The kids got along really well with you. They liked you."

"And you?" you asked, before you could stop yourself.

"Me?"

"Do you like me?"

For a moment, he seemed surprised by your question, but then he smiled with that spark in his eyes that you were starting to recognize. "I think so."

You said goodbye with a smile that didn’t leave your face the entire way home, carrying the feeling that, in some way, you had found a place where you belonged.

The afternoon sun bathed the streets in a golden light as you walked toward the park where Ekko had arranged to meet you. You weren’t sure what to expect; when he had suggested it, you thought it would be a simple, casual activity. But when you arrived and saw him carrying two skateboards, a mischievous smile on his face, you realized this wasn’t going to be any ordinary day.

“Are you ready to become a professional skater in just one afternoon?” Ekko asked, raising an eyebrow as he held a helmet in one hand and a board in the other.

“Professional? I can barely stay on my feet without falling,” you replied, laughing nervously.

“That’s what makes it fun,” he said, walking up to you to adjust your helmet. His fingers brushed your skin as he fastened it, and you noticed his movements were unnecessarily slow, as if he were looking for an excuse to be closer to you.

“And you? Are you going to wear a helmet or trust your legendary skill?”

Ekko shrugged, smiling to the side. “Nah, I was born for this.”

“Sure, sure,” you replied, nudging him with your shoulder.

The park had a wide track with ramps and flatter areas where beginners could practice. Ekko led you to one of these areas and began with a quick lesson.

“First, keep your feet steady. Don’t look down, look where you want to go. The board will follow your intentions.”

“My intentions? What am I, a witch controlling the skateboard with my mind?”

Ekko laughed. “Something like that. Though, if you were a witch, you’d probably have learned how to fly on this thing by now.”

You tried to follow his instructions, but on your first attempt, the board shot out from under you, and you ended up on the ground.

“Hey, hey! Are you okay?” Ekko was by your side in a second, kneeling next to you as he tried to hold back his laughter.

“I’m fine,” you said, though you could barely stop laughing. “I think the board hates me.”

“No, you just have to conquer it. Look.” He jumped onto his skateboard with a fluidity that seemed to defy gravity. He glided smoothly along the track, doing small tricks to impress you. “See? You just need confidence.”

“Of course, confidence is the only thing I’m lacking,” you joked.

After several attempts, you started to improve. You managed to stay on the board for more than a few seconds, though falls were still frequent. Every time you fell, Ekko was there, offering a hand to help you up, his face a mixture of concern and amusement.

After a while, both of you sat on a nearby bench to rest. Ekko took out his phone and began searching for something in his playlist.

“I’ve got the perfect song for this moment,” he said, setting it to play on the speaker.

Tyler, the Creator’s melodic voice filled the air with the song "See You Again." Ekko looked at you with a smile that seemed to hold something more than just fun.

“Why this song?” you asked, trying to interpret the meaning behind his choice.

“It reminds me of you,” he replied, his tone more serious than you expected.

You paused for a moment, allowing the music to fill the space between you. You knew there was something in his words, something he was trying to say without saying it. But instead of confronting it, you chose to laugh, avoiding the weight of the moment.

“Wow, Ekko, if you wanted to dedicate me a song, you could’ve chosen something less obvious,” you joked, pretending not to notice the gleam in his eyes.

He smiled, but there was something in his expression that made you feel a slight pang of guilt. You knew he was trying to open up to you, and you had deflected it.

As the afternoon went on, the topic faded, but a subtle tension lingered in the air. It wasn’t just about him; it was also about you. There was something you couldn’t share with Ekko, something that weighed on you more with each passing day. Your illness wasn’t an easy topic, especially now when you were just starting to get to know each other.

“Why are you so quiet?” he asked, glancing at you from the corner of his eye as you both walked toward the graffiti area of the park.

“I’m not quiet. I’m… thinking.”

“About what?”

“How easy it is to be with you,” you said without thinking. The sincerity in your words took him by surprise, and you could see his expression soften.

“Well, I’m glad it’s easy. But if you ever need to talk about something hard, I’m here too,” he said, his voice filled with warmth that made you feel guilty.

“Thanks,” was all you managed to respond.

Days later, Ekko took you to the graffiti area. He had been working on something in secret and didn’t want to tell you what it was until he finished.

“Ready to see how I see you?”

When you turned the corner and saw the mural, you were left speechless. It was your face, captured with an astonishing level of detail. Your hair seemed to move with the breeze, and your eyes were filled with a light you didn’t recognize at first. Around your face, Ekko had painted details that only the two of you would understand: small rays of light that seemed to represent hope, and a golden phrase that read:

“Life is short, but art is eternal.”

“Ekko…” you murmured, unable to find words to describe how you felt.

“This is what I see when I look at you. You're art,” he said, shrugging as if it were no big deal.

The mural was more than just an image. It was a reflection of how he saw you: as someone bright, unique, and irreplaceable. As you looked at it, you promised yourself that one day you would tell him the truth, even though you feared losing what you had.

The morning began with Ekko knocking on your door, carrying a huge box that almost covered his face.

"Are you going to let me in, or am I staying here decorating the hallway?" he said, balancing the box.

You laughed, opening the door wide. "What do you have there? A corpse?"

"If I told you, I'd have to kill you, baby" he joked, walking in and setting the box on the table.

Baby, that's how he was used to call you now. It didn't felt wrong, in fact, you liked it. It felt so good when he said it to you. It made you feel special. It made you feel loved. It made you feel his.

"It's for tomorrow's event. We're going to need a lot of help to make sure everything goes smoothly."

"An event? What are you talking about?"

Ekko leaned forward, resting on the table with a smile that combined enthusiasm and a bit of nervousness. "It's for the kids in the neighborhood. I'm organizing a sort of fair. Games, music, food... you know, something to help them forget for a while everything that's going on down here."

The morning passed organizing ideas. Ekko had an almost contagious energy, moving around your apartment like a whirlwind while making lists, dividing tasks, and talking about his plans.

"So, what do you think of a painting workshop? We could get some cheap canvases and brushes. I'm sure the kids would love to express themselves that way."

"I love it," you replied, watching his face light up. "How do you have so much energy for this?"

"It's important," he said, his tone turning more serious. "These kids... a lot of them don't have anyone who really shows them that they matter. If I can do something to change that, even for just one day, I will."

Your heart tightened as you listened to his words. There was something deeply inspiring about his dedication, how he used his own pain as fuel to improve the lives of others.

"So, where do I fit into all of this?" you asked, crossing your arms with a smile.

"Simple. You're my right hand. Plus, no one can resist your brilliant ideas and that smile of yours," he said, winking before turning back to focus on his plans.

In the afternoon, Ekko took you to his loft to check out some materials he had gathered for the event. His home was filled with curious objects: disassembled tech pieces, unfinished paintings, and notebooks full of sketches and notes.

"This place is like your brain made into physical space," you commented, looking around with a mix of awe and amusement.

"Is that a compliment?"

"Definitely."

You went up to the roof, where there was a small area Ekko had transformed into a personal retreat. There, he showed you his next project: a portable device designed to help people with motor disabilities perform everyday tasks with greater ease.

"How does it work?" you asked, taking the gadget in your hands.

"It's a prototype," he explained, sitting next to you. "The idea is for it to adapt to different needs. For example, someone with trouble holding objects could use it for a firmer grip. It's simple, but it could make a difference."

You looked at him, impressed. "Ekko, this is amazing. How did you come up with it?"

"I guess... I've always wanted to fix things. People, places, systems... whatever." He paused, looking at the horizon. "I don't know, I feel like it's the only thing I really know how to do."

The sincerity in his voice moved you. "You're not fixing things, Ekko. You're improving them. That's something very different."

Later, as you both worked on the final details for the event, Ekko looked at you with an intensity that made you feel uneasy.

"Can I ask you something?" he finally said, breaking the silence.

"Sure, go ahead."

"Why do you always keep your distance? Sometimes I feel like you're here, but at the same time, you're not. Like there's something you don't want me to see."

Your heart skipped a beat. You didn't expect Ekko to be so direct.

"I don't know what you're talking about," you said, trying to keep your tone casual.

"Yes, you do," he insisted, his voice firmer. "I've noticed how you avoid certain topics, how you change the conversation when something gets too personal. Is it that you don't trust me?"

"It's not that," you replied, feeling the frustration building inside you. "There are just things I don't need to share. Not everything has to be so... open."

"Not with me?"

His question hit you like a punch to the stomach. You stood up from the chair, unable to stay seated under his probing gaze. "Ekko, it's not as simple as you think."

"Then explain it," he said, standing up as well. "Because from here, it seems like you're more concerned with what you're hiding than with what we have."

What you two had was complicated. You weren't friends, you were more than that, but you weren't a couple either. It was complicated. And you didn't like to think about complicated things.

"You have no idea what you're saying!"

The raised tone of your voice surprised both of you. You felt the stress and physical exhaustion begin to take their toll. Your vision blurred, and the world seemed to tilt beneath your feet.

"Baby, are you okay?" Ekko stepped toward you, but before he could reach you, your legs gave out.

The last thing you heard before losing consciousness was the sound of his voice, filled with panic.

You opened your eyes under a cold, white light. The smell of disinfectant confirmed what you feared: you were in a hospital. You turned your head and saw Ekko sitting next to your bed, his elbows resting on his knees and his hands intertwined.

The room was silent, only broken by the soft sound of the monitor marking the rhythm of your breathing. The sunlight filtered through the hospital window, creating patterns on the floor, but the calm was deceiving. You knew Ekko was worried, hurt, but what worried you the most was what Ekko had started to suspect. You couldn’t keep hiding it, and you knew the time to talk had come.

Ekko had probably been sitting in the chair next to your bed for hours, staring at the wall, lost in thoughts that seemed to consume him. You didn’t know if he hated you or if he was just trying to process what had just happened. After all, you had fallen unconscious in his arms, leaving him with a heavier emotional burden than any gadget prototype or community event. Now, he was paying the price for your secret.

“Ekko?”

He quickly lifted his head, and the mix of relief and worry on his face broke your heart.

When he finally spoke, his voice wasn’t the same as usual. There was something broken in it.

“Baby, what’s going on? What haven’t you told me? The doctor... the doctor told me that...”

It was obvious that the doctor had given him more details than you had wanted to share. You hadn’t planned on opening up to him like this. But something in his gaze, the clear worry, and the deep sadness, made you say what you had kept hidden for so long.

“I know. I’m sorry,” you said, taking a deep breath. “The illness I have has no cure.”

After a long silence, and before everything could completely fall apart, you decided to explain more deeply about the illness that was consuming you because you knew Ekko needed to understand it fully, even though you weren’t sure you could save what was left between you both.

“Ekko… what I have is a rare, autoimmune disease. My immune system is attacking my own organs. It’s called Systemic Lupus Erythematosus, and there’s no cure. It’s like my body is fighting against me all the time, little by little.”

Ekko stared at you in silence, as if he couldn’t process every word. He knew that everything you had said before, although important, wasn’t enough to understand what was really happening.

“When?” he asked, his voice tense, almost inaudible. “Since when?”

“I started feeling bad when I was 23,” you continued, your voice trembling. “It hurt all the time, and the fever wouldn’t go away. At first, I thought it was something temporary. But then I fainted once, and that’s when they admitted me to the hospital. That’s when they told me that what was happening in my body was much worse than I imagined. From there, my life completely changed. My body wasn’t mine anymore. I lost energy, I lost weight, and the flare-ups became more frequent. It’s like my body is in a constant war, and there’s no way to win it.”

The feeling of vulnerability overwhelmed you as Ekko, standing at the door, continued to look at you with a mix of disbelief and pain.

But before he could say anything, you threw out one last statement that seemed to come from the deepest part of your soul:

“And I don’t know how much time I have left, Ekko. I just know that I can’t live knowing I’m dragging you with me.”

Ekko stood still for a moment, processing your words. His breathing became heavier, as if an invisible weight had fallen on him. Finally, his eyes sought yours, and what he saw in them wasn’t surprise. It was like, somehow, he already knew, as if he had sensed it all this time.

“Your parents?” Ekko asked again, his eyes fixed on you, searching for answers that you couldn’t hide anymore.

“My parents don’t know,” you said, letting out a sigh that seemed to come from deep within. “They have no idea. How am I going to tell them that? How am I going to tell them? No… I don’t want them to see me as a project they need to save. I want them to see me for who I am, to see me as their daughter, not as a broken thing they need to take care of. I don’t want to be a burden. I’m not going to be a burden.”

Ekko looked at you, his eyes filled with frustration, but also with a sadness so deep that it made you question whether he really knew you as well as you thought.

“Baby, why didn’t you tell me? Why did you hide all of this from me? Did you think you could protect me from the truth? What were you really protecting—me or yourself?”

The punch of his words was like a gut punch. The wound you had tried to seal with lies and evasions started to bleed, and the emotion overflowed in you like a river that couldn’t be stopped.

“I don’t know…” you stammered, tears threatening to fall. “I don’t know, Ekko. I wanted… I wanted all of this to keep being normal. For it not to be so… so heavy. I wanted to do everything I’ve always wanted to do before… before it ended. I wanted to leave my mark on the world before I’m gone, to leave something that was worth it.”

Ekko began to pace back and forth. His frustration became more palpable, but there was something else in his attitude, something you hadn’t recognized at first.

“That’s not what I’m saying!” he yelled, and the vehemence in his words made everything in the room feel even denser. “I don’t understand why you had to carry all of this alone. Why did you shut me out, baby? Why did you make me believe that everything was okay?”

“Because it was easier that way,” you said, the words tumbling out. “Because what’s happening inside me… how do you explain that to someone who doesn’t understand? How do I explain that my body is already losing the battle, that I won’t be here much longer, that everything I touch will fade?”

The anger in Ekko’s eyes faded for a second, and what remained was a sadness so deep it seemed to swallow the light in the room.

“And what about me, baby?” he said, his voice softer, more broken. “What about us? Did you really think I didn’t care? Did you really think I could go on without knowing what’s happening to you? That I could keep smiling and helping you as if nothing was going to change?”

At that moment, something inside you broke. Without thinking, the words left your mouth, sharp and like a dagger:

“Stop looking for it in me, Ekko. I’m not your mother. I’m not her. Don’t project that onto me! I don’t want to be the memory of what you lost. I don’t want to carry that responsibility, or the guilt of not being what you expected.”

The words hung in the air, and the silence that followed was unbearable. Ekko took a step back, his face contorting with a mix of pain and confusion. His eyes glistened with unshed tears.

“How could you say that?” he whispered, his voice broken, as if every word he spoke cost him more than the last. “I never ‘projected’ her onto you. It’s just… I don’t want you to keep pushing me away. I don’t want you to keep hiding your fears from me.”

And then, both of you stood there, in that emotional abyss that neither of you knew how to cross. Frustration, fear, love, and sadness intertwined in the room, as if time had stopped completely.

Finally, the silence became unbearable. You sat up in bed, defeated, while Ekko turned and walked toward the door. His body tense, his breathing ragged, and the pain in his face made him feel more real than ever.

Before leaving, he stopped and looked at you one last time. “If you had used your psychology for yourself instead of for everyone else, maybe you could’ve avoided this.”

The door slammed behind him with a dull thud, and you were left there, alone, with the echo of his words ringing in your ears.

Time had passed. The days and nights blurred into a mixture of conflicting feelings, unfinished memories, and a void that both of them tried to fill without success. The argument between Ekko and you had left deep scars, although both of you knew it couldn't be the end. Not for you. However, there was something neither of you had been able to face: fear. Fear of love, fear of tragedy, and fear of losing each other before either of you expected it.

You had distanced yourself for a week. A week that had been heavier than you ever imagined. In every corner, in every solitary moment, in every thought, Ekko was there, like a persistent shadow. No matter what you did, how you tried to ignore him, the emptiness left by his departure enveloped you more and more. You tried to convince yourself it was for the best, that moving on without him was the right thing to do. But you were lying to yourself, you knew you couldn't continue without him. Not that way.

Finally, after days of deliberation, finding the strength to face your own fear, you decided to go find him. You had to talk to him, make amends, and make a decision. If you were going to die, you would do it without regrets, without leaving words unsaid, or missed opportunities. You wouldn’t care about the shadows of the future, but you couldn’t keep living with the weight of silence between you two.

You found yourself standing in front of his door, hands trembling and heart pounding in your chest. You knew what you had to say, what you wanted to say, but the words seemed stuck in your throat.

The door slowly opened, and there he was, Ekko, with that gaze that, though intense, still carried a hint of sadness. There was something in his face that told you he had been searching for you in his mind as well, though his eyes didn't yet recognize it.

"Ekko…" you finally said, your voice trembling, "I need to talk to you. Can I come in?"

Without saying a word, Ekko took a step back and opened the door, inviting you inside. The atmosphere in the room was heavier than you remembered, as if everything unsaid still lingered in the air.

You stood in front of him, your eyes fixed on his, while the words that needed to come out didn't come immediately. But in the end, you decided.

"Ekko, I know I failed you. I know, and I’m deeply sorry. It was never my intention, it never was." You took a deep breath, struggling to control the emotions threatening to overwhelm you. "But I'm here because… because I need to know if you're still willing to fight with me. If you're willing to continue this battle, to stay by my side for as long as I can."

Ekko stared at you for a moment, his face impassive, but his gaze was full of something you couldn’t decipher. There was a long pause, and then, with a sincerity that made you shiver, he responded:

"I’ve always been willing, baby. From the moment I met you, I’ve been willing to fight for you, for what we have. I don’t care what comes, I don’t care how long it is. What matters to me is that you don’t leave, that you don’t leave me behind."

Those words were everything you needed. No more doubts, no more fears. You embraced his answer with your soul, with the certainty that, finally, both of you were ready to accept the truth. The truth of who you were, what you felt, and what the future held for you.

From that day on, things changed. Although you knew each moment was a fleeting gift, you decided to make the most of it. Ekko never stopped being by your side, and you did the same for him. You were determined to live intensely, no matter how short the life you had left. And he, he was willing to love you until the end.

He accompanied you to every medical appointment, always with a smile, always willing to do anything to lighten the pain caused by the treatment. The hospital visits weren’t easy, but his presence made everything more bearable. He held your hand before entering the consultations, hugged you after every diagnosis, and never let the moments of uncertainty crush you.

"I don’t want you to be afraid," you said one day, after one of your doctor visits, while walking together through the streets, taking a break at a small café. "But I know you feel it. I know every time we go in there, it kills you a little inside."

Ekko looked at you, his gaze full of both pain and tenderness. "It’s not fear," he replied, his voice soft. "It’s not knowing how to save you. I don’t know what to do when I see you so fragile. All I can do is be here, by your side."

And that was enough. Even though both of you knew you couldn’t stop time, nor the illness, what you could do was share every second, every laugh, every small victory, and every defeat.

But it wasn’t only moments of pain and fear. There were also moments of joy, of beauty, and of creation.

Together, you started working on the project you both dreamed of—the gadget you had envisioned, which could change the way the world saw technology. Even though your health was becoming more fragile, Ekko made sure you didn’t stop. You worked side by side, sharing ideas, making decisions, and facing obstacles, but always together. It was your way of fighting, of resisting, of holding on to life amidst the chaos.

One day, while working on the final design, Ekko surprised you with an idea. "How about, in addition to all this, we paint something? Something that’s ours, something that represents what we’re doing together."

At first, you didn’t completely understand what he meant, but soon you did. Together, you would create something more than just a gadget. You would paint a mural, one that symbolized not only your dreams and love, but also the struggle you shared. The mural would represent life, love, and hope, even though you knew time was limited.

In your mind, that mural became the testament of your story, a reminder of what you had built together. The colors shone on the wall, the shapes wild and beautiful, just like your love. The mural wasn’t just a work of art, but also a promise. The promise that, no matter what else might crumble, your love would never fade. No matter how much time you had left.

The last strokes were made one sunny afternoon, in a deep, shared silence. The piece was finished, and as you stepped back to admire it in its entirety, both of you knew you didn’t need words to understand what it meant.

The mural was more than a reminder of your love; it was a testament to what you had built together, of how, even in the darkness, you had found light. Though the future remained uncertain, the mural would stay there, eternal, as a trace of what once was and would always be.

As the days passed, time seemed to grow more valuable, more scarce. You knew that every minute spent with Ekko was a gift. And although illness had taken much from you, it had given you something you never imagined: a deep, real love that feared no tragedy.

One afternoon, while resting together in his loft, Ekko looked at you seriously, more serious than you’d seen him in a long time. In a soft voice, almost as if afraid of the answer, he asked:

"Would you like to be my girlfriend?"

You paused for a few seconds, feeling the weight of the question. But in that moment, something inside you broke. You smiled tenderly, a smile full of love and resignation.

"Ekko," you said softly, moving closer to him, "we’re so much more than that."

The smile he gave you was the answer both of you needed. You didn’t need labels, you didn’t need promises of an uncertain future. The only thing that mattered was that, in that instant, you shared something so deep and real that it didn’t need to be defined by words.

And, without another word, your lips met in a first kiss, a kiss full of love, despair, and hope. A kiss that marked the beginning of what both of you knew would be a short story, but one that would last a lifetime in your hearts.

The weeks following the reconciliation were a whirlwind of emotions. Even though you knew time was running out, you decided to live each moment with Ekko as if it were the last, because in reality, it was. Sometimes, the smiles were forced, but in the most sincere moments, you could see in his eyes the reflection of a love so strong it took your breath away. Every time he looked at you, every time he held your hand, there was a mix of hope and pain, but neither of you wanted to face the inevitable.

The illness progressed rapidly. Every day, your body seemed to fall apart a little more. The doctors had told you, warned you, but you never imagined how quickly the end would come. You had learned to live with the pain, the fatigue, the moments of weakness, but nothing had prepared you to see Ekko closely watching the changes happening inside you.

You had already told your parents about it, and when you did it he was there with you, by your side, ride or die. And of course they didn't take it well, but there was nothing they could do. They just let you be happy with Ekko.

Sometimes, when you woke up in the morning, you’d see him sitting beside you, his gaze lost in some undefined point, as if he were waiting for you to wake up from the shared dream. He’d ask you how you were feeling, and you’d always say you were fine, even though the truth was you could barely bear the weight of your own body.

You saw him trying to distract you, taking you to places that made you happy, but you knew nothing could escape that reality. He didn’t want to accept what was happening, and neither did you, but neither of you wanted to say it out loud. No one wanted to mention what was already so obvious.

That night, after another doctor’s appointment that you could barely endure, you lay down hoping to rest, even though it was becoming harder and harder to find deep sleep. Your body no longer responded the way it used to, and the symptoms had started affecting you more brutally. You could barely move your hands without feeling pain, your breathing grew more labored with every effort, but you kept smiling. You had to, not only for Ekko, but for yourself.

Ekko was sitting beside you in the chair he always occupied when taking care of you. His presence was as comforting as it was painful. You knew he was holding onto every fragment of his strength to not show you how devastated he was, but you could feel it in his eyes. He gently stroked your hair and whispered, as though afraid that if he spoke any louder, everything would collapse.

“I promise we’ll get through this. Together, we’ll make it. I won’t let you leave me, not without a fight.”

You looked at him, knowing he was struggling not to cry. But his words, although full of love, only reminded you of the harsh reality. There was no more time for promises, no more room for fighting. The end was near, and you knew it.

“Ekko…” you said, your voice weak. “You don’t have to fight anymore. I’ve loved you so much, you know that, right?”

His eyes filled with tears, but he made an effort to smile. “I know. I know, baby. And I love you more than words can say.”

But what you didn’t know was that, at that very moment, Ekko was also fighting his own pain. While you rested, trying to gather some strength, he was in the workshop, working frantically on the gadget, the project you both had shared. The same gadget that, in his mind, represented everything you had built together. The gadget wasn’t just an object. It was the manifestation of what you two could accomplish when united, when you fought as a team.

Ekko knew the gadget couldn’t save you. He knew nothing could save you. But still, he felt that if he finished that project, a piece of you would remain. A trace of the hope you had brought into his life.

Hours passed, and the night stretched on in heavy silence. Ekko was so focused on his work that he didn’t realize time was slipping away. The light in the workshop flickered as he soldered pieces, making adjustments, checking everything over and over, as if somehow he could turn back time, change the course of history. But he knew he couldn’t.

When he finally gave up on the gadget, exhausted from the intensity of the night and the weight of worry, he went up to the bedroom. He wanted to see you, wanted to make sure you were still breathing, even though he already feared what he might find. He entered the room with the hope that, by some miracle, everything had changed. But what he found was the silhouette of your body lying still. In the absolute silence of the room, Ekko slowly approached, his heart pounding, and when he reached your side, he touched your hand gently. It was cold. Too cold.

The shock paralyzed him for a second. He couldn’t believe it. He couldn’t accept that you were no longer there, by his side, where you had always been. He looked at you, observing your pale face, your peaceful expression, as if you were simply sleeping, but deep down, he knew there was no turning back.

Desperation washed over him. The pain hit him so hard it felt as though his chest would explode. How was it possible? How could something so beautiful, so real, vanish in the blink of an eye?

He knelt by the bed, gripping your hand tightly, as if by doing so, he could bring you back to life. “You can’t go,” he whispered, his voice breaking with the tears he could no longer hold back. “Not now. Not like this.”

But deep in his heart, he knew it was the end. He knew he couldn’t bring back what was already gone. He couldn’t revive the irreparable. And for the first time in his life, Ekko didn’t have a solution, he didn’t have a plan. All that was left was the pain, and that painful acceptance that it was all over.

In the following week, Ekko lived in a limbo. No one saw him, no one knew how to face his pain. Memories of you were everywhere. In the bed where you slept, in the gadget he completed, in the mural you painted together, in the streets where you both walked, always hand in hand. Everything that had once been a dream was now just an echo, a shadow.

Sometimes he’d find himself in front of your photo, the smile you shared on a random afternoon, one that he could no longer remember without the lump in his throat becoming unbearable. The reality hit him harder each time: you were no longer there.

Ekko became a shadow of himself. His mind still searched for you, as though somehow you might return, as though he could find a way to save you. But nothing could change what had happened.

In his darkest moments, Ekko would remember the last words you had said: “I’ve loved you so much.” Those words gave him strength to keep going, to not give up completely. Though the pain was unbearable, he had loved you, and that was something he would never forget.

And with the gadget in his hand, looking at the mural you both painted, Ekko made a promise, a silent promise: he would live to honor what you shared. He wouldn’t let your death be in vain. Your love, your fight, your story would live on in his heart, forever.

The city, as always, continued its course, indifferent to everything Ekko had lost, to everything that had changed in his world. But for him, the day was no longer just a succession of hours; every second was a struggle to find something that gave his pain and love meaning.

Months had passed since you left, but it felt like your absence was so recent, so sharp, that Ekko couldn't stop feeling that his entire being was stuck between life and death. No matter how much time had passed, your image was engraved in his mind, not as a memory, but as a constant presence, a voice whispering in his ear, as if you had never left.

Today, in particular, everything seemed to pull him back to the pieces of his pain. The project you had worked on together, the gadget, was finally ready. After so many sleepless nights, so much effort and sacrifice, the moment to present it had arrived. It had been a creation of love, passion, and farewell. A tribute to you, to what you shared, to what still remained of you in his heart.

Ekko walked with firm steps toward the community event where he would present the gadget. Around him, the people, some curious, others hopeful to see the result of years of teamwork. But he couldn't see them. He couldn't see beyond his own thoughts, the image of you floating in his mind. Sometimes, he thought that everything he had done in the past few months was just a way to avoid facing the truth: that you were gone and that, despite everything, life had to go on.

He entered the venue, a large hall filled with tables covered in technology, art, and brilliant inventions. The gadget was there, on a pedestal, waiting to be presented. Ekko stared at it in silence for a moment, recalling every afternoon spent working on it together. The design was sleek, full of details that reflected his intelligence and your ability to come up with unimaginable solutions. It was more than just a gadget; it was a piece of you, a piece of what they had been together.

The event began, and Ekko, with a calm that only he could have, presented his creation. He explained, with soft but firm words, how the idea had been born, how you had been the spark of inspiration for something that transcended technology and reached the heart. As he spoke, the words intertwined with memories, with your laughter, your jokes, the long nights spent debating the design, the future, and what they wanted to do. Every word felt like a sigh from the past, a sigh that tried to make the present make sense.

But inside him, Ekko knew that everything he was doing was just an echo of what had been. What remained was the emptiness, the absence you had left in his life.

When he finished, he stepped away from the stage, letting the gadget speak for itself. No one in the room understood what that creation really meant. No one knew how much it had cost, not in terms of hours of work, but in terms of love, sacrifice, and farewell. They didn’t understand that every screw, every adjustment, had been made with the hope that, in some way, it would bring you back, even if only for a second.

After the presentation, Ekko moved away from the bustle, walking slowly toward a secluded corner of the city. There, on the wall, was the first mural that he painted of you. The mural was a mural of love, hope, and pain. A mural that reflected every laugh they shared, every glance, every moment they had lived together. In the mural, you were more than just a figure; you were a story told in colors and shapes, in every stroke Ekko had made, in every brushstroke you had guided. The mural wasn’t just art; it was a piece of his soul, his heart, of you.

When Ekko stopped in front of the mural, the wind gently blew, moving some fallen leaves on the ground. His eyes, moist, traced every part of the painting, as if he were searching for something he would never find. He remembered how you had smiled while he was painting you, how you had loved it so much when he showed it to you.

The mural showed a version of you that was etched in his memory. He saw you, with your serene smile and your eyes full of dreams and desires. But what really stood out in the mural was your figure, as if everything else was just a stage for you, for what you meant in his life.

"We did it, baby," Ekko whispered, as if he could hear your voice responding, as if you were still there. "We did it together. Everything we dreamed, everything we wanted... we did it."

His tears began to fall, one by one, flowing like a torrent he could no longer hold back. His heart broke once more, but there was something in the sadness of that moment that gave him a strange sense of peace. Maybe it was because he finally understood that, even though you had gone, the love you shared could not disappear. Love doesn’t vanish with death; it stays, like a shadow that always follows the light. In the mural, in the gadget, in his memories, you would always be a part of him, forever.

Ekko stepped away from the mural, glancing one last time at the figure that now represented everything he had lost. He looked toward the future, toward the horizon, where the lights were beginning to flicker on, and the streets once again filled with people who knew nothing of what he had been through. An uncertain future, but a future he would have to face, because at the end of the day, what really mattered was how he would live after the loss.

With the image of the mural etched in his mind, Ekko moved forward. And in his heart, a promise: he would never forget what you both shared, he would never forget the legacy you left, and he would move forward with the strength of your love, because now he understood that love didn’t die, it transformed, just like art does. Like you did.