#i love music and i love them and i could talk about them and songs that are them forever and ever

[melminli]

Ddakji Man

summery - you were always struggling to make ends meet, despite having three separate jobs and you doubted that that would ever change. it felt like you were working out of your own casket and it would probably be more sustainable to invest in one at this point.

pairing: (gong yoo/ji-cheol) the salesman x fem. reader

word count: 1,5k

contains: slight arguing, cursing but nothing too graphic tbh

"Are you sure that you don't want to come?" One of your friends asked you a little sadly since you were about to leave the group. They rarely got to see you anyway, did you have to leave so early? "You never come with us when we go out for a drink, we miss you there, you know?"

You smiled a little tiredly as you strolled casually through the streets. "I'm sorry guys, I just have to work tonight." you tried to explain. Besides, I'm fucking tired and just want to get some sleep before then. I miss my bed.

Your best friend pouted as she hugged you from the side and you welcomed it, even if it made walking a little more difficult. "It's always work this work that. Live a little for once, all this stress is not good for you. You need a break." she spoke up before a thought came into her mind that made her a little furious. "Don't tell me that you're using work as an excuse to cancel on us. We can do something else if you want to. I'll even invite you, come on!"

You took a tired breath. I don't have any energy for this. "Trust me, I'd love nothing more than to get drunk with you and I'm not being sarcastic or anything." you clarified. Besides, I wouldn't work this much if I didn't have to.

"All right." she gave in unhappy. "We'll catch you one of these days, I can feel it..."

You laughed softly. "Please do," you replied and stopped in front of the stairs that led to the subway. This was the place where you had to say goodbye to your friends and you did with a few more hugs. You enjoyed spending time with them and loved your friends with all your heart, but you were still happy to be a bit on your own now.

So you plugged in your cable headphones and played your current favorite song at the loudest volume before checking when the next train was going to arrive. Another twenty minutes? The last one must have just left. You decided to just sit down on a bench and wait while staring blankly around and quietly mumbling the lyrics to yourself.

A few minutes later, a person sat down next to you and you could see out of the corner of your eye that it was probably some kind of businessman or something. You didn't look closely out of politeness and turned your gaze somewhere else after checking the time on your phone.

"Excuse me." the unknown man tried to get your attention, but as expected, you could barely hear him over the booming music. He placed his briefcase in the space between you before leaning closer to your figure and looking towards you with a smile and finally, you seemed to notice his stare and turned in his direction. You took out one of your earbuds as you met his gaze. "I'm sorry, what did you say?"

The man leaned back again. "I haven't said anything yet. I wanted to ask if I could talk to you, do you have a moment?"

You looked around a little uncomfortably as he maintained uninterrupted eye contact with you. "Ehm, well..." you stumbled slightly over your words. "I'm not religious or anything, sorry," you replied, having no patience for another discourse about Jesus and the church. This is the fourth time this week, lucky me. You thought to yourself as you were about to put your earplug back in.

The salesman held a hand in the air to stop you from doing that to keep your attention. You just looked at him uninterestedly and waited, it was going to be a while before your train arrived anyway. A smile graced his face after you were willing to listen to him again. "That's not what I wanted to talk about, I just want to offer you a chance."

Your face tightened a little in disgust and you were quite irritated by now. He seemed to be waiting for some kind of answer and didn't say anything else, so you had no choice but to interpret his words. He doesn't look like that kind of guy, but I guess it's always the ones who look the most decent. "Listen to me asshole," you said openly this time, all politeness gone as you pointed at his chest with your index finger. "I don't know you, maybe you're one of those men who try to talk in riddles to seem mysterious or something, but right now it just sounds like you're looking for someone cheap to fuck." you replied as you tapped his tie with each syllable and leaned a little closer to him as you whispered. "And I'm not cheap, so you might want to look elsewhere."

This time it was you who grinned as he looked at you in surprise and he let out a small grunt after you finished your sentence. The salesman straightened his tie while watching your figure before reaching for his briefcase and revealing its contents, "That's too bad, but also not what I was talking about," he replied as you looked at the money and colored paper in confusion. "Have you ever played Ddakji?" He asked you as he took out the red and blue paper. You just shook your head. "That's no problem at all, we can still play it if you're up for it." 

Your gaze alternated from his hand to his face. Oh, so he's crazy. You finally concluded. I guess he is too handsome to be just a normal guy, huh. You turned your head away from him, something about the whole thing just seemed perverse to you. "No thanks, I'll pass."

"You sure?" He asked again, knowing he'd convinced you as soon as he brought the money into it. These people are all the same, she'll snatch the paper right out of my hands after I start talking a language she understands. "Every time you win, you get 100,000 won from me." He began, watching the look on your face. "But if I win, you owe me 100,000 won and -"

You sighed and interrupted him. "Yes, I'm sure. I still don't want to play with you, okay?"

This time the man looked at you with a cold, icy stare. A few minutes passed like this and you just tried to ignore his gaze, but then he started talking again. "All right. 200,000 won." he finally said, but couldn't seem to get your attention back. He tried again. "Is it because you've never played the game before? We can have a practice round if that would make you feel more comfortable." he tried again and got irritated when you continued to ignore him. He looked around the area as he considered his next move. Is she waiting for me to increase the prize money further? These people usually jump up happily at the first amount since they're so desperate. He tried to collect himself again. "500,000 won." he finally said. "I've got the money right here, you just have to go for it."

When is this stupid train coming. "Look, I don't want your fucking money, understand? I'm not a gambling addict or -"

"You may not want it, but you need it," he said, annoyed. This has never happened before, is she stupid? He then spoke out your name and described your miserable living situation as if you didn't already know about it yourself. "You also have quite a lot of debt for someone who is still relatively young, are you seriously going to turn down the money I'm offering you? For what, to prove a point or something?"

You didn't know what this man's fucking problem was, he should be glad that you didn't want to take his money, and how did he even know all this? You got up from your seat next to him when the train finally arrived and turned to face him one last time. "Fuck you," you told him and then went to the doors. You even looked out of the window at him as soon as they closed before you, to show him your the middle finger.

The man in the suit watched your figure irritated until it was gone and then, took the little card out of the inside pocket of his suit, that was meant for you. He turned it over a few times in his hand before closing the open briefcase with his other one. He had already played and lost a few Ddakji games in his life, which was the point of the whole thing - to recruit players for the actual game. However, the thought of what awaited them there meant that he was still in control of the situation. He was always in control of the situation. "I didn't loose, we haven't even played." he tried to reassure himself.

And yet the whole conversation with you left him feeling like he was utterly defeated.

[persicipen]

𑑛 “KEEP AN EYE ON ME” ﾉ WRIOTHESLEY. GENSHIN IMPACT

performer gn reader ﾉ words 1.0k ᯽ bodyguard wriothesley. reader goes on stage — no specifics, so technically it’s still canon au and could be a singer, a dancer, an idol. very suggestive with explicit language but it’s only teased once ﾉ rewritten (old request) because i saw mooties talking about this :3 ᯽ SUGGESTIVE CONTENT ﾉ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT ᯽

Wriothesley shifts nervously from one leg to another, trying to shake off the itch of an unspecified feeling. Hand brushing through the hair, hoping to gather back his thoughts just like the matted greying strands, but to no avail. You’re not leaving his head, your mirrored silhouette sparkling in his silver eyes.

The way you move, hips swinging to the side and down just as the music gets low, makes him gulp down and blink. He has to make sure he’s not imagining it, for it feels too good to be true.

Then, with a pop, you break out of your routine, the special dance you had trained repeatedly in secret exclusively to surprise the crowd tonight, all while never going against the melody nor losing the perfect rhythm. He’s amazed by your ability to become one with the sound, something he could only dream about.

He’s just here to observe you, but other than that — any possible interruptions or unpleasant events, such as nagging fans or worse. Standing still, silent, and leaning on the wall behind the scene where he can get just a glimpse of the grand performance; he’s cautious. Only pretending to be relaxed, a small part of him is enchanted and enjoying your view while the rest is ready to act. Just in case. He never wishes for anything to happen. The less work there is for him to do, the better for everyone around him.

Yet he lets his mind wander to what-ifs. His fingers tap lightly against the metal buckle of his pants, playing with the leather strap on the side of his thigh. How would you move to a slower song? Does your body still find harmony with this kind of cadence too?

Of course, it does. It has to.

You’re so hardworking, there’s probably nothing you wouldn’t be able to do. But currently in promotion are more dynamic performances, and you have to bounce across the stage, elegant and beautiful like the sight of a deer in the forest — almost magical if not for the heavy instruments buzzing through all the surfaces.

Despite everything, the shine in your eyes and the curve of your smile remain unmoving as ever. You’re captivating, stealing hearts and bringing people to tears of joy. You’re a star that gives them all the happiness they need.

And he’s no different. He sees you as the perfect being. It doesn’t matter if it’s the persona you use on the stage or the one that becomes you when you slump against him after every exhausting performance, mumbling how proud you feel and ranting about the soreness of your body, and other stuff like that. Truly, just incoherent babbling — but he loves to hear everything, making sure at the same time that you two won’t get caught by any pair of prying eyes.

(He always thinks about that, so you don’t have to.)

As the mood slightly changes, the tunes mellow down. Not as much as Wriothesley would love to hear, that would be too good — and you bend down on your knees as you prepare for the next piece. It’s the one he called the sexy one when you were sharing the plan with him a few weeks ago, something you giggled away and shushed him immediately, not wanting to agree out loud.

But it was true. And the live dance was no better.

So now he has to endure watching you twirl on your toes, arching your back, sliding your hands along the curves of your body, all that sensual shit that drives him crazy and yet— and yet he cannot do anything about it, just taking the spectacle as it is, so thrilled to be able to see it from a different perspective.

It’s almost burning, this feeling inside, as his thoughts involuntarily drift off towards lustful imagination. Could it be possible to ask you to do the same move that you just did, but right in front of him? Or maybe even on his lap, the one where you crouch down innocently just to act provocatively once again?

Damn, that would be so hot. He has to clench his fist to calm down and return to the present moment.

When you at last walk offstage after another successful performance, your footsteps sound strangely satisfying as they click-clack down the corridor. There is no doubt about the fatigue and thirst in your expression, yet he has a feeling that you wouldn’t ask for a break aside from a quick few minutes to cool down and change your outfit.

Sweat glistens on your skin, sticking to your hair, making you sparkle in the harsh lights of the changing room. You’re beautiful like that; it’s the sweat of success and because you’re doing something you love. It’s not the same sweat when you stress over something or get sick and have to stay wrapped in hot blankets to fight off the illness.

Nonetheless, it feels nasty, so you quickly grab a towel and hug it closely, tapping gently on your face so as not to ruin your makeup. The cool and soft fabric works wonders on your excited body.

You tell the others it’s just a quick trip to the bathroom, while in reality, you glance towards your bodyguard, and that’s all he needs to know. He thinks that if you could only give him even a light kiss on the cheek, that would be enough, that would make him happy and fill him with a new surge of motivation. Oh, that would be so great.

But everything is different…

As soon as there are just the two of you, he pulls you close, failing to control his rapturing emotions. No, of course, he will not do anything stupid now — you only have a minute or so for him, but he wished for it to be untrue. His lips barely graze against your temple, leaving a tender peck there; you hear his low and velvety voice whisper right into your ear some words.

“I’m gonna fuck you so hard later tonight…”

And that’s the only praise that makes you genuinely know that you did exceptionally well on the stage.

[maretinelli]

SWEET NIGHT

Lewis Hamilton X Wife!fem!reader

Summary: When the little Hamilton family has a fun night out with their little girl and Roscoe.

Words: 2.8K+

Warnings: Daddy Lewis, Mommy Y/n, mentions of Italy, daughter, cute and just cute things, maybe a suggestive themed ending.

Author: English is not my first language, sorry for any mistakes there may be. And I love Papa Lewis, I could read everything on this topic😭❤️‍🩹 (You can request stories on my profile!)

MASTERLIST

Y/n was in the kitchen, stirring a pan while the soft sound of Italian music filled the room. She liked to put on podcasts, songs and talk to her daughter in Italian, so that the little girl would have her independence in the language. Since with her father's work, the family had to move to Italy.

Mariah sat near the island, absorbed in her coloring book, her small hands quickly coloring the pictures carefully. While Roscoe, lying next to the girl, seemed to be enjoying the peace of the house, his gaze calm and distant, as if he had surrendered to time.

The oldest one talked about her daughter's writing in Italian, giving her tips and telling her what she could use as a basis to write better.

"Mommy, you've explained to me a thousand times how to do this, I already know," Mariah said, shaking her head, still not letting go of her focus on the image.

Y/n smiled, trying to hide her amusement as she turned her food over. "I know, honey. I just wanted to make sure you understood." She walked past her daughter and placed a quick kiss on the girl's wavy hair.

The little girl let out a dramatic sigh, her brow furrowed as she looked at Roscoe, who had his head down, looking dejected. "Why does Roscoe seem so sad lately?"

"Ah, it's because he's getting old and tired, you know? He doesn't have the same energy to play as you do." Y/n adds seasoning to the food she was preparing.

Mariah still had her eyes on the dog as he snored softly in his sleep.

"How old is he, Mom?"

Y/n let out a sincere smile, amused by the seriousness with which the question was asked.

"Oh, I don't know exactly. But when I started dating Dad, Roscoe was already there. So I can't say for sure." Y/n smiles at her daughter, and she smiles back at him with the same smile as her father. "We can ask Dad as soon as he gets here."

Mariah looks at the dog again: "He really does look old." Then she picks up the colored pencil again and starts coloring again. "He must be as old as daddy!"

Y/n laughed, surprised by the comparison, as she dropped the spoon into the pan. Young Hamilton looked at her mother in amusement.

"Well, when Daddy gets home from work, I'll tell him about it!"

Mariah laughed loudly, enjoying the fun moment with her mother, and Roscoe, as always, didn't care much about the family's jokes.

Y/n continued talking to Mariah as she stirred dinner, the words flowing naturally between them.

Little Mariah Hamilton was a perfect mix of her parents, but the traits of Lewis's genetics stood out more, making Y/n remember her husband every time she looked at her daughter's wavy dark hair or when she smiled.

"Have you thought about what you're going to do for your next birthday, Mariah?" Y/n sets the table with plates, glasses and silverware.

"I don't know..." she says thoughtfully, stopping her drawing for a moment. "I'm in doubt between two themes..."

Y/n smiled, looking at her daughter, as she walked over to the stove, where Mariah was sitting on the front counter.

"It's okay, sweetie. We still have time to think."

Just then, the front door opened. The familiar sound of Lewis's footsteps made Mariah's face light up and Y/n cracked a smile. The house was filled with silent anticipation, the family's routine interrupted only by this small daily ritual.

Roscoe, who until then had been quiet next to Mariah, suddenly stood up, his ears pricked up, as if he had sensed his owner's presence. Before Lewis had even fully entered, Roscoe took off, running excitedly towards the entrance.

The girl gave a cry of surprise and laughter, watching the dog running around the house, wagging its tail excitedly.

"Roscoe, you're too excited right now!" Mariah said, laughing loudly, her identical Lewis smile spreading across her face.

Y/n laughed.

"Girls, I'm home!" Lewis called out from the front door as he hung up his car keys. "Hey, Roscoe, how are you, buddy?" Lewis said, his voice soft and caring, reaching down to pet Roscoe, running his hand through the dog's fur affectionately.

Hamilton smelled the wonderful smell coming from the kitchen, and then decided to follow it, knowing that his girls would probably be there making dinner.

"Look there, my girls!" He smiles when he sees Y/n at the stove finishing dinner and Mariah perched on the stool coloring.

Lewis hugs his daughter from behind and kisses her cheek, making her laugh as her father's beard tickles her. Hamilton smiles as he hears the laughter and then looks at his wife, approaching and hugging her.

"How are you guys?" He asks, after giving the woman a quick kiss on the lips.

"We're fine. We were just talking about Mariah's Italian lessons, weren't we, daughter?" Y/n smiled, placing the pan on the table and walking back, while Lewis snaked his hand down to rest on his wife's waist.

"Oh, really? And how are you?" Lewis asks interestedly, looking at his daughter.

"I think it's going well... Today I managed to understand almost everything the teacher said in class, she even colored it in.

Y/n and Lewis exchange an amused look when they hear the 'almost everything' coming from their daughter.

"That's great, sweetie." Lewis walks over to his daughter, kissing the top of her head.

Y/n smiles. "So Mariah..." she begins, crossing her arms over her chest and looking at her daughter in front of her and her husband. "Aren't you going to tell daddy what you said to mommy just now?" She holds back a laugh and Lewis looks at the two of them curiously.

"What have you been up to, Bub?" He drawls, pinching her nose lightly. Making her giggle.

Mariah shrugs a little and sets the pencil aside, turning to see her father's amused face.

"I told you Roscoe is as old as you." She went back to coloring, while Y/n laughed again and Lewis stood there looking at his daughter, a smile appearing on his face and a false indignation.

"You did what?" He asks playfully, starting to tickle his daughter. "I'm not old, just so you know." Mariah laughed out loud.

"It's okay, it's okay...daddy's not old. Just Roscoe" Mariah shouts laughing, making Lewis stop tickling and smile seeing his daughter's face.

"That's much better" He kisses the top of her head and turns to Y/n laughing.

Mariah looks at her mother and makes a discreet gesture with her finger, as if to say that he was just a 'little' old. Y/n holds back a laugh and rolls her eyes.

Everyone knew what a great jokester Mariah could be. But sometimes she outdid herself in her jokes.

"Okay you two. Old or young, dinner is on the table waiting for you" Y/n says and Lewis walks past her, slapping his wife's ass, making her squeal.

"I'm not old, you know," he whispered into his wife's ear, as she smiled sideways and a shiver ran through her body.

Mariah, for her part, struggled to get down from the high chair.

"Hey, honey. Let me help you." Lewis comes and picks up his daughter, giving her a kiss on the cheek and placing her near the table.

After dinner and cleaning up, the little Hamilton family gathered in the great room, along with Roscoe. In the center of the room, a small toy table was surrounded by a likely circle: Lewis, Y/n and even Roscoe, all sitting on the floor, with their knees bent and their gazes focused.

Mariah was in charge, her little face beaming with joy as she poured imaginary tea into the toy mugs. She wore a sparkling tiara on her head, her princess costume creating an extra sparkle in her eyes.

Around her, her parents were dressed in the makeshift costumes she had chosen herself.

The incredible serious Ferrari driver - Lewis, was unrecognizable with a pink princess tiara on his head and fairy wings spread across his back, trying to maintain a serious expression, but the corners of his mouth betrayed his smile.

He looked at his daughter with a fond gleam in his eyes, knowing she had gotten what she wanted, as she always did, but also feeling grateful for these small, adorable moments.

Y/n, on the other hand, had light makeup done by Mariah, her eyes softly colored with shadows and a bit of glitter that her daughter loved to apply. She wore several scarves around her neck, some awkwardly wrapped and others hanging down, and a pair of childish glasses were stuck on her head, over her hair.

Even poor Roscoe had glasses on his doggy face, not really caring about the game, just laying there for Mariah to play with.

Mariah seemed to have her parents wrapped around her finger, as if they were completely at her beck and call, but at the same time, she treated them with such affection and sweetness that it didn't feel like a command, but a desire to share.

"Daddy, do you want some more tea? Mommy, can I get you some cookies?" he asked softly but confidently, knowing they would never say no.

As Mariah continued to serve tea and tell stories, Lewis allowed himself to relax, forgetting for a moment the hectic life he led. He was there, with his family, on a peaceful night, and that was all he really needed.

He laughed lovingly at the way Yin played with their daughter, as if all the worries in the world could wait while they lived in this moment.

"Daddy, do you need more tea?" Mariah asked again, her expression beaming as she held out the toy mug to Lewis, who, with a smile of pure happiness, pretended to take a sip.

"Of course, my princess," he said, his voice soft and caring, and there, in that simple gesture, he realized that he didn't need anything else beyond that little scene, that unconditional love that seemed to fill every corner of the house.

Mariah, with her sparkling tiara and focused expression, poured another imaginary cup of tea for her father, who greeted it with a smile.

When she turned to hand the imaginary cookie to Y/n, she noticed that the cookie toy was almost empty, with only a few pieces visible on the table. With an expression of slight frustration, she raised her hands and said in her childish, determined voice:

"Just a minute, Mommy, I'll get some more cookies!"

Without waiting for a response, she ran excitedly into the room, her little legs making a happy noise as she walked away.

"Our daughter really is amazing, isn't she?" Lewis said with a tender smile, touching her hand.

Y/n looked at him, her eyes shining with affection, and nodded. "She has a unique way of making everything more fun," she replied softly, feeling her heart warm at the moment.

Lewis then leaned towards Y/n, pulling her close and whispering something sweet in her ear. "I still can't believe you're mine," he said with a fond smile, before pulling his wife into a kiss on the lips, affection spreading between them.

Mariah walked into the room with a new toy in her hands, a small, mischievous smile on her face. She placed the toy on the table, crossed her arms with a serious expression, and approached her father, pulling his head back, making him look at her with a confused look.

"Hey, what are you doing, princess?" Lewis asked, laughing, while Y/n also smiled at the funny scene. Mariah held her father's head back gently.

"You can't kiss. Princess Mommy is promised to another prince."

Y/n let out a laugh, and Lewis widened his eyes, pretending to be shocked.

"Hey, what's this? I came first and I conquered first! Princess Mommy is mine," he said playfully, pulling Yin into an awkward hug, nearly knocking over the toys around them.

"Okay... you can have Princess Mommy... but only because you're my Daddy," She said with a chuckle, before jumping towards the table and throwing herself back on the couch, pretending to be defeated.

Y/n smiled at that unique moment, hugging Lewis back, feeling a warmth in her chest. She couldn't imagine living that sweet dream, with the family they had created, when she met Lewis ten years ago. Life had been full of surprises and twists and turns, and that simple, yet perfect moment, was everything she could have wished for.

"I can't help but love this," Y/n whispered, stroking Mariah's hair as the girl played with her teacup again. "I love you guys! So, so much!"

Lewis kissed Y/n's forehead affectionately, still smiling at the funny and loving moment they had just shared.

"I love you too, princess mommy," he said in a soft, loving voice. "And I will win you forever."

Y/n's gaze met his, and for an instant, the entire world seemed to stop, leaving only that moment of pure happiness and familial love.

The mood only dissipated when little Hamilton asked if anyone wanted a biscuit to go with their imaginary tea.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Tea night had long since ended, the house was silent except for the soft sound of music playing in the background.

Y/n was in the living room, picking up the toys scattered around the small makeshift tea table. Roscoe was lying on the carpet, watching her with his tired eyes, as if he understood the serenity of the moment. She smiled at him.

"You're tired, buddy, but you did a great job today. Mariah loves you, you know? I bet she'll want to take you to ballet tomorrow, but you can sleep in a little longer, okay?"

The dog wagged his tail slightly, as if in agreement.

Lewis comes out of the hallway and appears in the living room, bringing with him a smile and a sparkle in his eyes. He comes closer, leaning against the doorframe for a moment, watching Y/n fondly as she finishes putting away her toys.

"She finally fell asleep," he began, walking over to her. "But before she closed her eyes, she said something that made me laugh."

"What's wrong?" Y/n looked curiously.

"She said she was really tired because, and I quote, 'Being a princess is a hard job, Daddy, but someone's gotta do it.'" He laughed, shaking his head. "I think we have a little leader in our house."

Y/n laughed with him, shaking her head in amusement.

"She's growing up so fast, Lew. It seems like just yesterday she was that tiny baby in our arms. And now, she's so smart and full of personality."

Lewis approached her, wrapped her in a hug from behind and rested his chin on her shoulder, as he always did when he wanted a quiet and close moment. Y/n smiled instantly, feeling that familiar butterflies in her stomach, something he still managed to provoke in her after so many years together.

"She gets her intelligence from her mother," he commented, gently kissing the side of her neck.

"And father's charisma," Y/n replied, tilting her head to lean against him, the smile still on her lips.

For a few moments, they stood there, enjoying the silence and each other's company, until Lewis broke the moment with an unexpected question:

"Have you ever thought about having one more?"

Y/n turned her head to look at him, surprised, but with a curious glint in her eyes. "Another child?"

"Yeah, why not?" He smiled, wrapping his arms around her more tightly. "Mariah would make a great big sister. And I'd love to do it all over again."

Y/n chuckled softly, thinking about the idea.

"I never imagined you would bring this up now. But... it's not a bad idea."

Lewis smiled, clearly pleased with her answer. He gently turned her to face him and pulled her into a hot kiss, full of passion and desire. Y/n melted into his arms, as she always did, and smiled against his lips.

When the kiss ended, he murmured in a playful tone, "So... how about we start now?"

Y/n laughed loudly, pushing him lightly in the chest.

"Lewis!"

Before she could protest further, he quickly picked her up and placed her over his shoulders, eliciting a surprised gasp from her followed by laughter.

"What are you doing?!"

"Taking the queen to her chambers, of course," he replied, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

Y/n laughed as he walked down the hallway, commenting, "You're a freak!"

"Maybe. But I'm your crazy person," he retorted, laughing along with her as they disappeared towards the bedroom, the sound of their laughter filling the house.

Author: My first name is Mariah (actually, without the H) but it's the same thing hahahaha

[oatmealwrites]

A Night To... Forget? Ch. 3

Aizawa x Eidetic memory! Law student! F Reader

Part 2 | Part 4 -> coming soon!

(A night to forget masterlist)

Synopsis: You relay what Toshinori tells you about Friday night to Keigo, and finally meet with Aizawa for coffee and to pick up your jacket. Deciding to follow through on your drunk dinner plans, the both of you make a... date? Just two working adults planning dinner, nothing more.

Tags: It's getting NSFW, masturbation (m and f), mentions of alcohol, use of vibrator, horny thoughts, shower masturbation, cumming, mentions thoughts of: oral, creampie, tied up, degradation, p in v, car sex, and hickies; 18+, MDNI, plot & porn

Word count: 6.4k

(finally part 3! and it's getting steamy hehe. im planning for pt 4 to be absolute filth)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Last Friday Night - 12:13 am [Toshinori’s Recount]

The bar is blaring music while patrons are scattered around the property: the bartender is busy with orders, drunk couples are swaying to the beat, and a handful of people are smoking outside and enjoying some fresh air. Toshinori is shuffling through the jackets littered on your group’s booth seats looking for his coat while Keigo and Tsukauchi play darts, Kayama and Yamada are making song requests, and you and Aizawa are lingering at the billiards table.

King’s Cup ended around 15 minutes ago, and when everyone left the table to scatter around the bar, Toshinori was left people watching. Keigo hasn’t landed a single dart on the board since the game began, the college-aged employee in charge of the bar aux seemed to not recognize any of the songs Yamada was asking about, and you and Aizawa were so wrapped up in each other that you didn’t even notice the small and annoyed queue of people waiting for the pool table. 

Even if Toshinori wasn’t sober, it would take a painfully oblivious person to ignore the synergy going on between you both. Unlike your other friends, who hover and talk amongst each other, you have an arm wrapped around Aizawa’s bicep like you need it to stand and his eyes never leave yours as if you’d disappear if he blinked. 

“Those two sure are friendly~”

Toshinori looks up and laughs airly at Kayama who has returned from harassing the employee and left Yamada yelling his ear off about a band. She watches the way Aizawa holds your arms and stands behind you to assist in lining up a shot on the table while letting out a low whistle.

“Young love I suppose?”

“Young? That would make you old,” Kayama cackles and shoves the deflated man’s shoulder. “Cut yourself some slack.”

Toshinori shakes his head and laughs, silently wondering if Tsuakauchi would also want to leave, or if he should order a ride. 

“...it’s the best Italian restaurant nearby.”

“ –Let’s go.” 

The sound of your and Aizawa’s voice is loud enough to break him from his thoughts and he turns to observe your interaction once again. Leaning against the pool table and swaying the cue stick from hand to hand, you stare up at Aizawa with stars in your eyes. Only a blind person could miss it, and the tinge of red on Aizawa’s cheeks is enough indication that he’s effectively starstruck.

Toshinori laughs once again with a genuine smile and moves to slip on his winter coat and tug the zipper up to keep warm. Kayama leans against the table with a different kind of smile and nudges her friend’s shoulder.

“Who would’ve thought it would only take months for either one of them to make a move?”

Toshinori hums and throws a scarf Midoriya had gifted him around his neck. “Wel,l given their careers it makes sense. Heroes know how dangerous it is to love anybody… it makes them a target for villains to leverage.”

Kayama nods that she heard him, but it’s clear she wasn’t really listening. As philosophical and correct as Toshinori was, she was looking for a juicier answer. The two now watch you yelling at Keigo for nearly hitting you with a dart after he tried to do a ‘360 bullseye’ and spun around before letting go of the dart wayyy too early. 

Both Toshinori and Kayama don’t miss the way Aizawa’s hand slides from your back to your waist the moment Keigo enters the conversation. While to them, your bickering with Keigo is nearly familial, Aizawa’s gaze on the man has Kayama and Toshinori wondering if he was about to use erasure again this evening on him. 

“Well,” says Toshinori, looking at Tsukauchi who has wandered to the bar to join Yamada in ordering another round, “I’ll be heading home now. Let me know when you all do the same.”

“I can do you one better.”

Toshinori looks up from the rideshare app and raises an eyebrow at the woman; she slides her cell phone from her purse and opens the camera feature.

“It’s a bad idea–” 

“–It’s a favor! What if they don’t remember the name of the restaurant they said they wanted to go to?”

Toshinori knows that isn’t the real reason she wants to film and take photos; blackmail and torment seem much more in line with her motives. Regardless, he makes no effort to stop her and shakes his head while heading for the exit. Even if you and Aizawa happen to forget the evening due to alcohol, surely you’ll make up and resume where you left off. Right?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Current Day: Sunday, 11am

“That’s it?”

“That’s it.”

Keigo sits lazily on your apartment couch while cuddling one of your throw pillows into his chest; he raises an eyebrow at the abrupt end to your story.

“Soooo… all Toshinori said was that you guys were grinding on each other while playing pool?”

You pause from your anxious pace around the coffee table and roll your eyes. “No. He said we were kinda touchy and made dinner plans.”

Keigo shrugs and lays down further on the couch; his back rests against the arm rest and his legs are spread with one on the cushions and the other dangling to the floor. Your hair steadily drips from your shower earlier and you’ve finally changed out of sweatpants and into a pair of jeans.

“I just don’t get why he wouldn’t bring up the dinner plans if he did remember last Friday.”

Keigo throws the pillow up above his head before catching it and throwing it in the air again. “Maybe he doesn’t remember after all?”

You continue pacing again and bite at the edges of your cuticles in anxious thought. “I mean that’s possible…but he was acting so weird yesterday. He ended the conversation immediately after I said I didn’t remember anything.”

With another bite at your hangnail your heart drops. “What if he remembers and completely regrets it?”

Keigo catches the pillow and turns to you. “Then he wouldn’t text you to make sure you’re ok. He also wouldn’t offer coffee when he returns your jacket tomorrow.”

The reasoning makes sense, but Aizawa’s behavior didn’t. Why wouldn’t he just come forward and say he was drunk and didn’t feel the same? Or if he did feel the same, why not remind you about your poorly planned dinner date?

“Ugh,” you groan, sitting on your living room floor and placing your forehead against the cool glass of the coffee table. “Men are so confusing.”

Keigo laughs and places the pillow on his abdomen while remaining in his comfy position. “Ha! Not really. Even if he is a total stick in the mud, he’s still a guy. So he’s probably after….”

You look up and place your chin on the coffee table; Keigo lifts his hands up to mimic the ‘p in v’ motion with his fingers and cackles when you throw the tv remote at him.

“You’re NOT helping.”

The man shrugs and grabs the pillow off his lap before sliding it under his head and relaxing further onto your sofa. “Yes I am. Just fuck it out of your system and move on. I’d rather talk to you about other stuff that’s not about him.”

You deflate and rest your chin in your hand while you lean against the coffee table again. “Why do you care so much if it’s Aizawa anyways?”

Keigo stretches his hands back and groans at the sensation before sitting up. “I don’t really care that it’s him–” he stops and thinks for a moment. “Ok that actually is the reason.”

You watch and wait for him to elaborate.

“I dunno…You’re like my best friend, and seeing you so hung up on a guy that is the worst at conveying any kind of emotion is fucking annoying. It’s been months without any progress too…”

You sigh and suck the flesh of your cheek between your molars and think about everything. While yes, you normally would move on from a guy that shows zero interest in you, there’s something about him that makes you wanna hold out just a little longer.

“Listen,” Keigo says, pivoting and patting his thighs, ready to stand up. “If he makes you happy then do whatever you want. I still promised I’d help you get in his pants, and I’m a man of my word.”

He shoots you a stupid wink and you roll your eyes, but feel slightly better. While getting in Aizawa’s pants would be amazing, you would still like to actually date him as well. Assuming he actually wants to date you as well. 

“Be upfront when you meet with him, yea?”

Keigo stands up and stretches from side to side before padding over to the coat closet by the front door. You watch as he shimmies on his hero jacket and places his usual shades over his eyes.

“I’ve got some meetings and parole so I won’t be around today. Call me after your coffee date~.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Monday - 12:45 pm

You and Aizawa haven’t texted since Sunday, so when he messages you the location of a nearby cafe to confirm your plans, you nearly considered canceling. To be honest, you had even considered pick-pocketing Keigo’s wallet and stealing his black credit card to just buy a new blazer rather than face Aizawa. It’s not like you were avoiding getting some sort of closure… you were just avoiding him.

Boots rocking on the escalator, you exit the metro station and peer down at the map on your phone before continuing down the street. The anxiety in your gut has been building all morning; forgoing breakfast from the nausea.

Keigo had sent you a simple ‘good luck’ text in the morning and reminded you his phone would be off until the evening when he was finished with work. Your fellow law student friends had also reached out and said they’d be in the area for lunch if you needed a quick escape if things turned south. 

Wind picks up and you hug into yourself at the feeling, the temperature dropping drastically over the past few days and causing you to wear your winter coat. Overcast clouds create a dreary atmosphere though people on the streets don’t seem to mind, walking in and out of stores and restaurants on their usual routine.

You notice Aizawa immediately when you turn the corner; dressed in a gray winter coat and black slacks with dark boots, his face immediately softens when he notices you. He slides his phone into his pocket as you walk; turning away slightly, he adjusts the fabric of his pants through his pockets for a brief moment.

Now or never…

You quicken your pace and approach the man, hating the way your heart tugs at the sight of the wind pushing his hair back. The light stubble on his face is gone, indicating he recently shaved, and there’s a light sandalwood scent in the air from his cologne. Despite this being a casual coffee and jacket drop-off, he cleans up nice.

Aside from the way your heart rate picks up, you can feel yourself clench pathetically around nothing. Maybe you really do need to get laid.

“Sorry if I made you wait long.”

Aizawa turns to open the door with the hand not carrying a paper shopping bag, and smiles gently. “No, you didn’t. I just got here a minute ago.”

A hostess from behind the coffee bar immediately greets the two of you and points to an open table to seat yourselves at. When Aizawa walks in front of you towards the table, you miss the way he calms himself with a quiet breath. With shaky hands, he pulls a chair out for you and then takes the one right across; awkwardly, you grab one of the laminated menus from the holder and stare down at the words.

“So…how are you feeling?”

“Oh, better. Not hungover, and considering sobriety for the rest of my life.”

Aizawa scoffs lightly at the joke and peers down at his own menu, the silence heavier than either of you want to admit. Nervously, you shrug off your coat and place it behind you on the chair; you tug at the collar of your sweater once before looking at the menu again.

“How are your cases going? I heard from my students you swung by and spoke with Tokoyami.”

“Yea, Keigo had sent him to pick up my files by accident.”

Aizawa looks up and hangs on to every word, a slight furrow in his brows. “Oh. Do you and...him, work on cases a lot?”

You shake your head lightly while glancing out the cafe window to watch the wind pick up and a light drizzle hit the pavement. “No, not really. He was just wayyy too fucked up Friday to tell left and right apart.”

“I see.”

Aizawa nods and waits a beat before looking back down at his menu and thumbing the edge of the lamination side to side in thought.

“I’m working on the case with Vlad King though,” the forced nature of the conversation lifts slightly to something more casual, “so I’ll be at the conference tomorrow to run over everything before the prosecution starts next week.”

Aizawa hums and nods once again before looking back down. It’s painfully obvious you both want to discuss what was really going on between you both. Though, while you sit in your chair anxiously wondering how to accuse him of remembering Friday night, he sits across from you internally preparing for a humiliating rejection. Aizawa sucks in a deep breath and places his menu on the table. 

“Listen, I want to–” “Have you decided on anything to drink?”

The waitress cuts Aizawa off and fishes out a pen from her pocket while holding a paper notepad. He coughs lightly and orders a black coffee and pauses for you to order your preferred caffeinated beverage.

When she returns to the counter to prepare the drinks, you turn your gaze back to the man across from you. “Sorry, you were saying?”

Aizawa looks at you a beat longer than natural, and blinks before turning out the window and shaking his head slightly.

“Oh, nothing.”

You swallow thickly and wince while Aizawa sits in self-deprecation for making the scene even more awkward than before. Now. Or. Never.

This is the only moment you have to get clarification, and while your ego may be bruised for 10-15 years, you can’t take another anxious sleepless night.

“Do you remember something about an Italian restaurant… from Friday night?”

Even though this is the moment Aizawa’s been preparing for since Saturday, it doesn’t calm his heart rate at all. He’s imagined this moment a million different ways for the past two days, and each outcome has him feeling more dejected than the previous one. 

Guilt weighs in his gut heavier than he anticipated, and with a defeated sigh he locks eyes with you. “Yes. Yes, I do remember that.”

You wet your lips and nod gently. “I see…so why didn’t you mention it before? When I visited the school campus on Saturday?”

He knows exactly why he didn’t bring it up, though in effort to spare his already deflated self-image, Aizawa shrugs lightly. “I didn’t want to make things awkward. Or…more awkward than they probably are.”

It’s not an outright rejection, but the uncertainty of his intentions doesn’t help you relax at all. Judging by the way he’s rubbing the back of his neck and looking out the window, he’s not showing all his cards.

“I mean…Toshinori told me vaguely about Friday. He said we spoke about going there, together.”

“Yea,” he takes a long sigh and drags his eyes back to yours. “We did.”

There’s a pause between you both as you collectively acknowledge the implication of that proposal, but neither one wants to be the first one to call it out. You pick at your nails for a moment beneath the table, palms beginning to sweat.

Aizawa takes a breath and collects himself, silently wishing this topic could’ve happened after he gave you the jacket and paid for coffee. At least that way he could leave promptly after humiliating himself. But this conversation needed to happen, he needs to get you out of his head already.

“We can still go,” you say, breaking the silence and feeling your ribs about to crack from your heartbeat, “if you want to.”

Your proposal is obviously not what he was expecting to leave your mouth. Instead of staring out the window partially aloof, he holds your gaze with his mouth open slightly and eyes open so wide he’s unsure if he even heard you correctly.

“You want to go…?”

“I mean if you don’t want to–”

“–No!” Aizawa coughs slightly afterward, cheeks twined pink in the embarrassment of his outburst. “I mean.. I want to go there, but I’m just surprised.”

Good surprised? Or bad surprised?

Regardless, you nod slightly and try to make the proposal as casual as you can muster given the situation. 

“Yea, why not? I mean, you said it’s really good and I’m curious to try it.”

Ok, casual. So casual. 

Your internal pep talk qualms your anxiety a bit while Aizawa continues looking at you in awe the proposal. His silence makes you squirm a bit and prepare to take back the offer if he didn’t want to before he finally musters a response.

“Yea… ok. Let’s go.”

A slight heat on your cheeks, Aizawa blinks a few times before his mind finally catches up with what is currently happening.

“When are you free? I’m usually out of classes by the early evening, grading papers and exams are something I can move around more easily.”

With a hum, you both take out your phones and begin examining your own schedules and the moment diffuses to a more natural conversation. Small talk about your own classes, his busier weekends when hero training happens with field trips, and your collective efforts in fighting villains flows smoothly between you both. It's the longest you’ve both gone without one of you finding an excuse to leave; well, besides last Friday night.

“We’ve got the case debrief tomorrow… Maybe Thursday?”

“Ah, I have an evening seminar that day with a guest professor… Does next Wednesday work?”

Aizawa scrolls to the next week on his phone and nods in approval. “Yea that works. I’m finished teaching by 5pm.”

You open your ‘events’ tab to insert the meeting. “Ok! Maybe we can go at 7? 7:30?”

The man across from you hums and begins typing. “Yes, 7pm works perfect for me.”

“Ok, nice! It’s a dat–”

“Your drinks! Sorry for the delay, we had an influx of to-go orders.” The waitress places two drinks in front of you both and bows slightly in apology before retreating once again.

Despite her interruption for a second time, you’re extremely grateful for it cutting you off. Date? It’s not a date right?

If Aizawa heard your Freudian slip, he makes no effort to show it on his face. Instead, he lifts the ceramic mug to his lips and blows the steam away slightly; his shoulders are relaxed as he leans back in his chair for the first time since you’ve entered the coffee shop.

“I had your blazer dry cleaned by the way. I think some of that mystery liquid from the drinking game got on it at some point.”

You lift your drink to your lips and mirror his relaxed position. “Oh, you didn’t have to do that!”

Despite your words, you are actually extremely grateful he did so; law school students aren’t exactly the most financially liquid.

He shrugs and takes a sip. “It’s no worry, really.”

The conversation flows naturally for another 30 minutes before Aizawa checks his phone and tilts his head as his lunch break is nearly over. Despite the rocky start at the beginning of the meeting, the two of you have left little silence between each other. From discussing plans you had with other friends over the weekend to sharing his life-hacks for getting better nights sleep, time had escaped rather quickly.

Before you can shimmy on your coat and dig in the pockets for your wallet, Aizawa walks over to the counter and explains your orders to the employee. Seamlessly, he offers his credit card and signs the receipt all by the time you finally make it over to him.

“Thank you! Come again!”

The wind is brutal on your face the moment you step out of the cafe with Aizawa holding the door open. You zip up your jacket better to keep warm and tuck your hands in your pockets despite the handles of the paper bag awkwardly jutting out.

“You didn’t have to pay by the way.”

“Hm?” He tucks up the collar on his coat and brings his shoulders up to cover his ears from the wind. “Just… buy mine later?”

The suggestion brings a pink to your cheeks, but the wind piercing your skin provides an excuse for it. You both walk about a block down the road before parting ways with a slight wave; even if Keigo was busy, you pull up his contact anyways and hit ‘dial’. 

~~~~~~~

The rest of Monday passed as it usually would; two afternoon and evening classes had you returning to your apartment just in time for dinner and Keigo had already inquired about everything after his last meeting ended. Sitting on your sofa and rubbing your eyes slightly from a late night study session, you consider calling it an early night.

During both of your classes you couldn’t sit still at all. Phone under the table and texting your friends updates on what happened made you feel like you were in high school all over again. Of course, neither you nor Aizawa confirmed what next week’s… meeting really was. There was no mention of it being a date, so part of you wanted to simply label it dinner with a colleague. 

It made sense rationally. Both of you adults with your own schedules and work life; it’s not like either of you had asked the other out. He had ended the jacket-drop off promising to send you the restaurant information tomorrow, needing some time to make the reservation before getting your hopes up and sending you a copy of the menu.

The only thing weighing you down was that Aizawa had remembered the initial plans and chose not to say anything. 

Sliding your textbook off your lap and standing up from the couch with a stretch, you pad over to the kitchen still considering everything. It made sense he would want to avoid mentioning it, especially if you didn’t even remember the plans. The main question you now wondered was if he remembered more of Friday than you have currently figured out.

You chew on your lower lip with your canines and open your cupboard to take out a wine glass and blow away any dust from the inside. Toshinori’s recommendation of asking Kayama still hangs in the air, but you’ve had enough stress for one evening. 

Opening your fridge, you pull out a cheap bottle of pinot grigio and tilt your hip to shut the door. You have no plans of getting shitfaced, but a glass of wine to end the evening seemed to be calling your name. Undoing the screw cap, you pour a generous glass before returning the bottle to the fridge and heading into your bedroom.

Door shut, warm floor lamp on, and wine on your night stand, the scene stirs a feeling different from sleep. Slipping under the comforter and top sheet, you lean against the headboard and pillows and consider ending your evening a bit differently than initially planned. 

You lean over and grab your current book from its spot next to you on the bed and place it on your nightstand before opening the top drawer. A familiar pink shade of silicon greets you as you reach down and pick up the vibrator from its spot. Running your hands over the buttons, you power it on and feel the vibration gently tremor in your hand with enough force to give the impression of it being half charged.

Nodding in approval, you power it off for a moment and turn to take a few long sips of wine and relax back into your pillows. Cheeks feeling flush from the alcohol and serenity of the moment, you place the glass back down and pinch the waistband of your sleep shorts between your fingers and pull the fabric down along with your panties.

Sighing at the sensation, you reach over and power on the vibrator before lowering it to kiss your clit. Fuck, you really needed this.

Keigo is the last thing on your mind, but he really wasn’t wrong when he said you needed to get laid. 

Shutting your eyes and imaging the scenario in your mind, Aizawa’s face flashes into perfect view. Long hair tousled in every direction, a body sculpted from marble from years of physical work, and dexterous fingers exploring your body have you arching your hips in anticipation. 

Just envisioning the scenario has you grinding into the vibrator to increase the stimulation on your puffy clit. Lowering the vibrator to take some of the wetness from your cunt as lube, you bring the vibrator back up and rub smooth circles on your clit. 

It’s wrong to imagine him so objectively, but at this point you don’t really care. Would he be gentle? The strong, silent type to make love with passion? Or would he be just as sexually pent up as you? Bending you over and fucking you hard and rough while nasty words left his lips?

You’re sure he has fans and admirers; or even fellow heroes that had a much better chance of experiencing this fantasy than you. But the image of him splitting you open on the mattress while his lips suck possessive bruises into your neck make the worry instantly dissipate.

Gentle sighs leave your lips as the scene becomes clear in front of you. Normally when you have sex with anyone, it’s relatively tame and vanilla; in your head, it becomes so much more disgusting. Would he tie you up? Leave you at his mercy while he pounds into your cunt and fills you with cum? Erase your quirk and give you a mind shattering orgasm; then splay your thighs open once again because he can’t let you leave forgetting it?

The degrading thought creates a bigger gush from your pussy than your ego can ever admit. Flicking the button on the vibrator, you increase the intensity setting and grind your hips down again. Even if it was all in your head, you intend to end this evening with the pleasure you’ve been needing for too damn long.

~~~~~~~

Monday evening: Same time

AIZAWA POV

Tired eyes shut as Aizawa yawns and pushes away a stack of papers that remain ungraded. Moonlight pouring in from the windows, a single table lamp illuminates the room with a warm glow while the man leans back in his chair with exhaustion. The rest of class went as expected, his students yelling and competing amongst each other while he had to use all the willpower in his body to remain calm despite being anything but that. 

Lazily opening his eyes and looking around the lonely apartment that he occupied within the dorm building, Aizawa can’t help but pull out his phone to confirm once again, you both had scheduled a date. Well, neither of you had agreed it was a date, but he swears he had heard you call it one back at the cafe.

Of course, he would still be seeing you in between then and now; a case debrief tomorrow and most likely bumping into each other on UA campus while you worked with other heroes. He was more surprised you had wanted to actually go anywhere with him. It’s not like he was the most conversational guy out there, and considering your best friend was adored and extremely popular, it made little sense you’d want to accompany him to dinner.

Aizawa had been a nervous wreck this morning, giving his students group tasks to keep busy and arriving at the coffee shop 20 minutes early just in case. His students had even noticed the slight change in his appearance, but chose not to say anything out of fear. It’s not like he shaves or tries to clean up very often. 

He pushes his chair back and heads to the sink to fill a glass of water, his throat feeling dry and a heavy weight lingers on his shoulders. He still should’ve come clean when you first approached him on campus; he knows it. He also knows it’s only a matter of time before you figure out the rest of what happened that evening, and get frustrated at him for once again not being 100% honest. 

Though that’s a bridge he’ll cross when the time comes. 

For now, he’s more than delighted by the possibility of there being a chance. A chance you may actually reciprocate a fraction of the feelings he’s been harboring despite his cold shoulder to you for far too long. 

Aizawa sips the water and wipes off the drops that escape his lips and glide down his chin. He should shower and try to clear his mind before seeing you tomorrow; take the rest of the evening to relax and sleep.

Placing the glass in the sink, he resolves to do exactly that; walking to the bathroom and sliding open the glass door of the shower to start the water. Leaving it to warm up, he carefully strips down and places dirty clothes into the hamper before opening the sink cabinet to look for a new bottle of shampoo. 

Without thinking, he pulls out the spare bottle, but his eyes catch and linger on the familiar clear container that sits in the back of the cabinet. Immediately, his cock twitches slightly and the bathroom begins to fill with steam as hot water pours from the shower head. 

He reaches back and pulls it out along with his shampoo before standing upright and thinking it over. Though his body doesn't need any convincing, Aizawa always feels like shit after jerking off to the image of you. It’s more than your body that he’s attracted to, but late evenings and long periods of not getting any action leave his cock slowly stiffening like clockwork.

Immediately, his mind drifts to you and the array of images he’s cultivated in his mind despite his best intentions. The times your blouse has separated at the buttons and given him peaks of your lace bra, the times you’ve leaned over a desk to reach documents and showed off the swell of your ass, and the entirety of Friday night leave Aizawa sucking in a breath as his dick hardens in arousal. 

Opening the glass door of the shower and lowering the heat of the water, Aizawa furrows his eyebrows together and rubs his face. He felt like a horny teenager when it came to you. It was so fucking wrong considering you were essentially just work colleagues, who happened to agree to getting dinner. 

Aizawa doesn’t appreciate your company simply because you sexually interest him; your charm, wit, and intelligence were more than enough to have him completely at your beck and call if you ever tried. Though the way you purse your lips in thought make him wonder what they’d look like around his cock, the way you tug at the neckline of your sweater make him imagine his own hand around your throat, and the way your thighs look in that professional knee-length pencil skirt leave him envisioning bending you over and hiking the fabric to your waist while he pounds into you. 

It’s the same thoughts that pollute his mind more frequently than he could ever admit, and running his head under the water doesn’t dull the painful ache in his cock for relief. Letting the water fully saturate his hair, Aizawa slicks it back from his forehead to remain out of his face while he opens the clear bottle cap.

Reaching up, he pushes the shower head to face the wall slightly and negate the amount of water hitting him before pouring a generous amount of lube into his hand. Snapping the bottle shut and placing it on a ledge within the shower walls, Aizawa reaches down to give himself a few slow pumps.

The sensation makes him sigh and a few pearls of pre cum ooze from his tip as the image in his brain comes into a clear view. It’s the both of you in the back seat of a car, your lipstick smudged from making out, pupils blown with desire, and windows so foggy no one can see inside. Aizawa unbuckles his slacks and tugs the material down to his thighs along with his boxers while you hoist your dress and move to straddle him.

“Fuck..”

Giving attention to his swollen tip, he rubs the large vein on the side of his cock and moves to pump himself more steadily. Hand tight, but not too much pressure, he tugs at an even pace and tries to envision it’s anything but his hand making him feel good. 

In his mind, you’re whimpering as he stretches you out so nicely. Tits basically pouring out of the fabric you dare to call a dress, Aizawa keeps his hands steady on your waist to set a rhythm the same speed of his hand right now. That sweet and friendly smile is long gone as you furrow your brows and grind up and down like a needy slut. 

“Haaa… nngh”

Shallow pants leave his lips as the vision gets clearer and his hips jerk forward to meet his strokes. As degrading as it was to envision you as sexually desperate as himself, the image was too hot to shake from his brain. The idea of you being as needy and deprived as him, makes the image that much better.

Using him to get off while he enjoys the view of you being so desperate for him and his cock make Aizawa bite his lip and increase the speed of his hand. Fog still pouring from above the shower walls, he moves to better massage the tip and increase the pressure a tad. Balls feeling heavy and hips twitching slightly, the familiar coil in his abdomen begins to build.

Where would you let him cum? In your pretty hands that he’ll pay to have manicured if you ask? On your face; cum staining your cheeks and strands of your hair? Or maybe your mouth? Sticking out your tongue to prove you swallowed it all.

“Oh… f-fuck… y/n..”

Your name leaves his lips in messy mumbles while hand moves to increase the speed and focus on his tip as pre cum drips down pathetically onto the tiles. Maybe you’d let him cum inside? Let him be the only guy that gets to stuff your little cunt and see it slowly seep out while you lay in a fucked out haze.

“Haaaa…. Shit–”

With an almost pained sigh, Aizawa twitches his hips erratically to meet the thrust of his hand and cums. Hard. Hot ropes of semen ooze from the tip and paint his hand, part of his thighs, and the tiles of the shower floor. The heat from the cum is noticeable despite the warm water temperature, and the sensation of his orgasm leaves him leaning against the wall.

Cool tiles bring comfort to his skin while he catches his breath and tries to ignore the guilty post-nut clarity washing over him. He never felt relief or contentment after jerking off to you; it only made it worse. Aizawa couldn’t be satisfied with his imagination, he needed to know if you were just as amazing in real life as in his horny fantasies. 

Coming down from his high and reaching up to tilt the shower head back onto his body, he sighs and washes off the evidence from his skin. Once it’s all effectively drowned down the drain, he reaches for his usual body wash and suds up while exhaustion washes over him.

Scars and bruises litter his body, and washing off the soap makes him momentarily self conscious for the state of his own appearance. The thought passes, having no solution to remove scars and accepting them, but his gaze lingers on his softening cock.

Dark hairs litter his navel and descend into a relatively untamed bush that spreads around the base of his shaft and balls. He doesn’t expect to get lucky at all during this dinner ‘date’. But…he supposes cleaning up wouldn’t hurt and makes a mental note to purchase a new razor for his body.

Finishing up his routine, he shuts the water and steps out in the bathroom to dry off and wrap a towel around his waist before stepping into the bedroom. Steam pours out of the room and creates a slight fog while the overhead lights from above the sink illuminate his room in a dull glow. 

It’s not messy, though several dishes, coffee cups, and papers litter his desk and floor. Once again, he doesn’t expect anything from this dinner, but the moment leaves him a mental note to also clean up and change his sheets. Stepping to his dresser, he tugs out a pair of Calvin Klein boxer briefs and sleep pants before stepping into them, forgoing a shirt.

Flipping the towel over and shaking out the remaining water from his hair, Aizawa throws the cloth over his bathroom door and shuts off the lights. Crawling into bed and shivering at the cool temperature of the sheet on his bare skin, guilt still gnaws at him. 

You would never see him in the same pathetic way he was mentally tortured to see you every evening. You were friendly and respectful, giving him chance after chance to explain himself despite his dishonesty. He sighs and leans into the pillow before wrapping the blankets around him similar to the way a sleeping bag would. 

Be professional. A case debrief and casual dinner the following week. Don’t get ahead of yourself.

Sleep finds him easier this evening than he would expect; relief on his shoulders as he imagines the reason you offered dinner was because maybe you did feel the same.

Ty for ur patience on this series! I have the plot and smut all planned out, but traveling and laptop issues have delayed it a bit ;-; also the next chapters will keep getting steamier so buckle in ;)

lmk if you wanna be added to the taglist! & happy new year!

comments/likes/reblogs are all appreciated! ╰(´︶`)╯♡

-oatmeal

Tag list: @idkidk32 @h0n3y-l3m0n05 @aizawasbaeee @smashley351

[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.

[hugherin]

⋆ STYLE; QUINN HUGHES. ⋆

when olivia and quinn had a situationship in college, as the years went by neither of them forgot what they had.

warnings: mentions of alcohol and driving while slightly drunk (please don't do this

pairing: quinn hughes x past situationship

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pov: quinn hughes

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jackhughes had made a new post

tagged: _quinnhughes, lhughes_06 and nicohischier.

liked by lhughes_06, njdevils and 5,376 others.

jackhughes: great time with those guys 😎

user01: why is luke yelling

jackhughes: bad looser in beer poing 😞

lhughes_06: that's NOT true can you stop lying?

jackhughes: whatever helps you sleep at night sweetie

user02: the quinn's look in the first picture is crazy, who's the lucky girl?

njdevils: my favorite boys!!!!!! so proud 😎

canucks: your what.

oliviarosberg: horrible photographer *liked by _quinnhughes*

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You and Quinn were the quintessential casual college couple. However, this relationship dynamic was bittersweet for you, especially when he casually placed his hand around your waist, evoking butterflies.

You cherished a memory of Quinn, but it didn't haunt your nights. Today, after a long day of your routine as a nutritionist, you decided to go for a walk at the invitation of Jack and some other mutual friends from college, who were all in town for the Devils-Rangers game.

You walked through the club's main door, peeking out to look for your friends and Jack but meeting a pair of blue eyes with a backwards cap and a beer in one hand. In order to feign custom, you walked up to them after nodding, praying your breath wouldn't catch as you greeted the (not) stranger next to Jack.

It was surprising that Quinn, Nico and even Luke were accompanying Jack to one of his celebrations. but you couldn't say you were upset, because you really weren't. After greeting everyone, only Quinn remained.

"Hi, Quinn", you say with a kiss on the cheek as he quickly places a hand on your waist, returning all the butterflies you swore were dead.

"It's been a while since I saw you for the last time, Olívia. How is the office going?" he asks before taking a long sip of his beer. He'd aged remarkably well.

"Amazing. Cait is my right hand, you know how it is." you say mentioning your best friend who suffered being the third wheel when it came to you and Quinn.

He chuckled in response. You took another look around the place, not taking long to spot your friends and move away from the group of men near the bar.

After a long time, your favorite club song comes on. Britney Spears was timeless. To you, Britney will always be a timeless icon.

Sipping your freshly-arrived martini from the bar, you hum the lyrics to Toxic as you dance to the floor with your friends who are even more excited than you. Before you know it, you're on your third martini and staring from afar at the blue eyes that seem to smile at you.

You and Quinn never talked about what you had in the past. It wasn't something that bothered you since you were always good friends, but the question of "what could we have been?" always lingered in your head.

During your cloud of thoughts, you barely notice that your friends have hitched a ride home in the arms of tall blond men who seem to be enjoying the women's cheer. You go to the bar to get a bottle of water and find Quinn ordering the Rum and Coke, her favorite drink.

"Still into this?" you say close to your ear due to loud music.

Quinn, in response, lets out a low laugh as he quickly looks away from her mouth to her eyes. "Still into in so many things." He says, taking a sip of his drink and staring at you with dilated pupils. You remember loving to watch that change in his eyes and how it was one of your favorite details. "Your friends seem to be having fun. Do you need a ride home?"

You rethink the proposal in your mind. Bringing things from the past into the present wasn't really something you did, but with Quinn things had always been different, which makes you nod almost involuntarily.

Quinn then reaches behind his back as he makes way through the small crowd to the club's entrance, opening the car afterward.

For some stupid introverted reason, Luke and Nico were in the backseat of the car having a argument about, if you heard right, "why women never go to the bathroom without their friends".

"I'm telling you, dude! It must be some kind of cult or secret group. It doesn't make any sense to go in a group to a place like that." Nico says with an expression of someone who was discussing a super serious matter while Luke just nodded.

"You guys look like Chandler and Joey" you say as you feel a sting in your eye. You hated it when a hair from your eyelashes fell into your eye while you had mascara on. "I think I got something in my eye, can you blow it out?" you say quickly turning to Quinn who huffed and then gave you a quick kiss on the cheek.

You found the act affectionate, but you still didn't know if it was an act of friendship or of friends with benefits like in the old days. Quinn was affectionate even before you thought about being more than friends. Faking a fake cough, Luke says he needs to go back to pick up Jack with the other friends, noting that they will use Nico's car to get home when Quinn inquires.

"So..." Quinn says as he turns the key in the car, making it move "How is your life going? outside of work."

"I haven't had time for much" You said with a slightly tired voice. It was Friday and you had spent the day putting together diets for an entire soccer team. You loved your job, but it was undeniable how tired it got to you sometimes. "You know, family time and all that stuff. I still do game night on the first day of the month." you say turning to face him. Quinn has a serene expression looking at the track, until he stops at a red light.

"I loved the game nights" he says, his eyes shining as he stares at you. "I miss this."

You just shook your head in response. You didn't want to talk about old traditions with Quinn. You wanted to step on the gas pedal of that car and get home as quickly as possible. Running away from discomfort? No. Avoiding problems? Maybe.

"How are things with Cassie?" you asked with a pang in your heart. You had heard rumors through your friends (who were still in touch with some people from high school) about Quinn's relationship with a model.

"Well, there's no more Cassie. I ended things months ago."

Awkward silence.

"Listen" he started. "I'll be honest with you. Months ago, Caity posted a story with you in it."

He took a breath, turning the corner of his house and stopping on the street in front of the door. "And, Olívia, you looked stunning. I haven't been able to get you out of my head since that day. I know I should have said this when we still had something, but" you stop him with a kiss.

You kissed in a different way than you had ever kissed before. It was different. Now it seemed like nothing could stop you.

His hands pulled your thigh into his lap as he placed his hands between your waist and the back of your neck. Butterflies seemed to crush the skin of your stomach as you placed kisses on Quinn's neck, hearing his murmur in response.

You tangled your hands in the curls at the nape of his neck, which seemed a little longer now. You couldn't deny how attractive it was, especially with the minty scent coming from him.

"Olivia, please" he says, in a whisper as he tries to dodge the kisses on your neck. "Tell me you feel the same way." he looks at you with eyes that seem to beg for a single correct answer.

You knew you couldn't be sure of a stable relationship considering both of your professional lives, but having a concrete thing with Quinn was something you wanted since you met him.

"I feel. I swear I feel. We need to talk calmly about how this will go in the future but honestly I don't want to do that right now." you say, taking his hand to your waist again, begging him to understand what you mean, having a genuine smile followed by a laugh in response.

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jackhughes has made a new story.

jackhughes had made a new story on close friends.

pov: quinn hughes

oliviarosberg just made a new post

liked by _quinnhughes, jackhugues and 576 others.

oliviarosberg: he can't keep his wild eyes on the road

caitbazyen: HOT.

oliviarosberg: miss u :(

01hughesslut: the same outfit as jack's deleted story in public story... i mean should we celebrate?

oliviarosberg: definitely don't know who is this dude

jackhughes: wondering who is the guy in the second picture

oliviarosberg: lol that's my buddy 😎 *liked by _quinnhughes*

a/n: so nervous doing this, think i edited it like 45 times 😭

[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

[jkftkth]

i really do wonder what a bts comeback will mean and does every member have a plan figured out for themselves.

fan accounts going awol when some members were exploring their artistic individuality and only now resurfacing because a group reunion is closer - it makes you think. was there ever even an artistic connection? or was it more about what has been sold to the audience over musical talents - an entertaining family dynamic/bond fans can project onto. fitted roles where a member is only likeable if they’re playing it just right.

2024 changed my feelings for good on where i think i belong, and there’s probably little that could happen for me to want to be part of bts’ fandom again.

firstly, there’s only so far you can go being a fan of tae and having to witness on a daily basis the level of disrespect he faces from both company and fandom no one else has. when you see quite literally the worst of the worst, day after day, but it’s only a limited amount of fans who voice concern and make actual space for the exclusive severity of it all to be acknowledged and discussed and questioned…you either stay and pretend it’s not happening/it’s not “the actual worst” because it’s impossible to satisfy every fan, orrrrr—

i mean, everything until up to now has been with the intent of a) making us fall for the brainwashing so we stop advocating for him as an individual, or b) exhaust us into quitting being his fan so his label can turn around and say to him hey look—why did you think you could make it when no one likes you?

and i obviously believe other members are a victim in their own way too. because you would have to be living under a rock to not see that hybe does not respect its idols as workers, as money makers, and as humans. neither does it protect most of them, the actual opposite for specifically taegikook and so a fan of the group or not, anyone would naturally want better for hybes idols across the board because they deserve better than staff badmouthing them in official reports and on online platforms.

of course there are other reasons i’ve had enough, such as contractual fan service being pushed so much whilst at the same time fandom reactions being intensely watched and made note of to the extent labels are out here monitoring fanfiction and assigning tropes to members and not caring what type of delusion and hate that cultivates??! to the group motto of “us is always before me” being celebrated, to fandom not actually caring about idols’ rights, to fandom falling for a dirty pr firm’s media manipulation/fabrication so easily, to hybe basically being in all fandom spaces with their dumb ass bots to sway opinion, to i mean the list goes on.

i don’t think i’d call myself bitter, or a hater, or a “solo.”once they return i’ll feel relief for all of them that that chapter of their life is over and they came out safe and sound (🙏), but i confess i have little excitement for a group album because group songs mean one thing for fans of tae and group arrangements always do the opposite of wanting him to shine and group entertainment is hard to enjoy when you know there’s a script running more often than not at his expense.

a tour? well i know there’s sincerity in how important performing is, and it’ll probably mean a lot after 18 months of being forced away from that, so it will be nice to see them doing what they find enjoyable yes. do i look forward to the exerting schedules for the sake of making up for hybes financial losses? do i look forward to the billionaire continuing to rip them off while he carries on riding their success as his own?

i know there are contracts. i know idols’ rights are a topic of concern and few are willing to talk about it and make a change. i know their industry can get really manipulative really fast as soon as they step out of line and that can lead to a really dark reality. i know there’s always a bad guy in the story. i know the group is still important and loved by tae (and jk), i know he wants to think the best of the group’s fandom because he is still a group member, i know i’ll support him wherever he goes but like

it’s just hard to forget the least three years and stay unaffected.

[starry-bi-sky]

mmmm musical cultivator shen yuan again. Feng Xuanlu, the Wind Song. He has this well-loved wooden pipe he inherited from is adoptive father that he uses on occasion. When the traveling day gets slow and he doesn't feel like singing, when he's stressed, when night falls and he's sitting around a fire with his troupe and they've all had a little bit to drink.

His hair is long and black, always tied up into a ponytail or a braid of some sort. When he's in camp he loosens it up until its splayed messily over his shoulder. He has crows feet around his eyes that scrunch up when he smiles. His eyes are bamboo green and his hands are rough and callused from years of plucking strings and work. He has scars on his back that he won't explain the origins of.

His voice is low and warm like a fire, it gets raspy in the mornings or when he's been humming or singing for too long. He speaks like there's sunshine dripping off his tongue. He speaks soft, he speaks and his voice takes up the entire room. He's spent over a decade hearing his praises getting sung and he still gets shy over it sometimes.

Whenever he goes into town he has to have at least three other musicians with him at all times -- not his decision of course, but the unanimous choice of his companions. Shen Yuan gathers admirers everywhere he goes, and his companions have long since learned that their dear friend and leader is completely unaware of it. So they have to beat off these suitors with sticks.

[faaun]

the way that diff languages sound r so fascinating they're all different and all so vivid

[tolerateit]

.

[murdleandmarot]

The gang’s all here!! They’re on the case!! And there’s no ghost that they wouldn’t chase!!!!!

@mysticalcats’s Foxglove, @toki-toro’s Chaumet, @emimii’s Clownaire, and my own Bluebelle :)

[shy-sapphic-ace]

Old Gods of Appalachia gives me the same vibes as listening to music by Lord Huron— it’s just the perfect blend of supernatural and folktales and being so deep in the woods it feels like the light can’t reach you anymore, and I am absolutely in love.

^ I mean, this is exactly what listening to the podcast feels like (at least to me)

[reallyhardy]

Sorry what’s up w the Ethan slater stuff? I know him only from your posts / SpongeBob stuff

HI HELLO please buckle in

yep -- the same guy from the spongebob musical, and my posts abut the spongebob musical.

he blew up completely and now the general public knows him as 'ariana grande's new boyfriend' - their relationship seems to have started off the back of co-starring in the upcoming wicked musical film adaptation.

it's just been like. a monkey's paw curling sort of a way for him to get catapulted to fame, as i had always really enjoyed him as a performer (as spongebob, yes, but also in the other roles i'd seen him in,) and my biggest hope back around 2017 was that he would continue in and be really successful in theatre, get a lot of broadway roles, maybe take on some existing parts i thought he'd really suit, like seymour in little shop or ogie in waitress.......... but instead he booked the role of boq from wicked in a massive hollywood film production instead, where he met ariana grande. THE ariana grande.

and then yeah. at some point, he and grande broke up with their respective partners, (slater leaving both his wife AND newborn son) jumped into a new relationship, and now the whole wider internet knows who he is but certainly not for the right reasons.

there's been speculation regarding whether or not grande and slater had cheated on their previous partners before their relationship began with various sources coming out of the woodwork saying "yes they did" and others saying "no they didn't" -- humans are all perfectly capable of making stuff up, the media especially, so i simply don't know who to trust and i admit it had completely shattered my whole good impression of him - PLUS it gave the wider internet an absolutely awful first impression of him, resulting in, yeah, the (frankly, unflattering, sometimes downright cruel) memes of him popping up on twitter and, as i discovered yesterday, in non-theatre youtubers' videos who would literally never have heard of him if not for the slater-grande romance 🥲

FULL COVERAGE of the situation as it was happening can all be found on the lovely @notasimpleslater's blog under the tag 'ozgate' if you want to delve deeper!

[knifearo]

who up thinking about moses sumney doomed. "am i vital if my heart is idle? am i doomed?" "if lovelessness is godlessness, will you cast me to the wayside?" moses sumney 2017 album aromanticism save me... moses sumney 2017 album aromanticism... save me moses sumney 2017 album aromanticism...