#rhythm !! 💜

[cleumuu]

bunner epel doodle days agoo💜💜

[shannonsketches]

”Why don’t you train with Vegeta?” Yesss 7YearGap Headcanons come thruuuuu

[rockintapper]

i rushed this one. happy set 6 ds monday

and bonus mo doodle because it's also MOnday

[septic-selfships]

I fall to pieces when I'm with you...

My name's Jasper, welcome to my selfship sideblog! I'm pan-aro and agender/dollgender. Most of my f/o's hover in the (queer)platonic sphere, but all of my Ego f/o's lean romantic. I'm mostly going to be reblogging stuff here, but I may occasionally do ask games too. I'll try not to be too NSFW over here because it's embarrassing lol.

My main f/o's at the moment are Marvin the Magnificent (JSE Ego Media) and Jackieboy Man (JSE Ego Media), and I'm uncomfortable sharing Marvin! I'm fine sharing everyone else, and I enjoy having f/o's from the same media as my friends!

Heart divider from @cafekitsune | profile picture from @florenceisfalling | blinkies from @docheros

More stuff under the cut

My self insert is Valerie Hart, an 18/23 year old (depending on the f/o, 23 for the older ones) who loves writing and anything covered in hearts, bows, and frills. They use they/it/love pronouns.

I try to stay out of discourse, but I'm firmly anti harrassment and post dark content sometimes. Otherwise, the only other people I don't want interacting are ageless blogs, and minors should tread with caution because of the NSFW stuff (unless I know you from Main for either one).

Most of my ships are perfectly fine, but Anti is... Anti, and that's where a majority of the dark content here will come from, along with the Twins.

And speaking of which! I don't ship myself with their creator, r.pf makes me kinda uncomfy. This is for the characters that he made, all of which are featured in the comics (besides Stacy)!

❗❗NOT A FANDOM BLOG❗❗

Text posts will be tagged with [#selfship], art and other visual stuff will be tagged with [#framed photos], stuff that reminds me of them will be tagged with [#aesthetic], gushes/adoration posts will be tagged with [#love letters], and selfship games will be under [#game time]! NSFW stuff tagged as [#nsft] and suggestive stuff tagged as [#suggestive.]

Additional specialty tags:

🕊️ wedding plans 💚🩵 : stuff related to my eventual selfship wedding with Marvin.

📚 study partners 💚🩵 : Babysitter AU stuff with teenage!Marvin.

🪄 travelling show 💚🩵: Old Lore! AU where Marv and Valerie are stage magicians.

My f/o's in alphabetical order:

D.emon Slayer-

Inosuke Hashibira (boar boy)

H.eathers 1988-

Heather Duke (Duke my beloved)

JSE Ego Media-

Antisepticeye (glitch bitch)

Jackieboy Man (hero boy)

(and my versions of both of them as a polyship)

Marvin the Magnificent (magic man)

Stacy Brody (princess in pink)

M.onster High-

CA Cupid (love genius)

Frankie Stein (G3) (sparked to life)

R.ainbow High-

Carmen Major (star shredder) (polyship)

Krystal Bailey (reporter on set)

Lola Wilde (Wilde heart)

Lyric Lucas (golden voice) (polyship)

Vanessa Tempo (rhythm royalty) (polyship)

Veronica Storm (bubblegum vampiress)

R.ide the Cyclone-

Jane Doe (headless doll)

Mischa Bachinski (bad egg) and Talia Bolinska (telephone fiancée) (polyship)

V.oid S.ilver

Brother Twin (darling brother) and Sister Twin (dear sister) (polyship)

Higgins (pet f/o) (cosmic kitty)

Sunday (golden bear) (mostly polyship with Marvin)

I hope to have some fun over here!

[emphasis-on-the-oopsie]

Ian puts the bi in bitchless

[aricastmblr]

Feel the Rhythm of Korea with BTS – TEASER Making Film

https://youtu.be/l8_oprJxAS8

[usefulcrew]

MUSE TAGS 2/3

「 💜 」   steaming along  » ic

「 💜 」   gonna be my day  » hc

「 💜 」   the purple engine » vis

「 💜 」   rhythm of the rails  » musing

「 💜 」   we make a team together  » interest

「 💜 」   the friends i make  » aes

「 🌟 」   flying down the line  » ic

「 🌟 」   hundred mile a hour  » hc

「 🌟 」   the scotsman » vis

「 🌟 」   grace and power  » musing

「 🌟 」   smashing all records  » interest

「 🌟 」   crowds would cheer  » aes

「 🌻 」   rumble over mountains  » ic

「 🌻 」   the last of all her class  » hc

「 🌻 」   largest engine on the line » vis

「 🌻 」  roll on big boy  » musing

「 🌻 」   the northern plains  » interest

「 🌻 」   wasatch mountain range  » aes

[red-moon-at-night]

FIRST TRY FULL COMBO ON EXPERT OH HELL YEAH BABEY

[decembermoonskz]

just dropping by to send you big hugs and to wish you a good day💜💜

~@therhythmafterthesummer💜

thank you so much rhythm 🥰 I’m just hanging on my aes acc and spamming it with stuff lol but I’m gonna eat soon so there’s that hehe :3c

have a good day as well lovely!! 💜🫶🏼

[hedonicghost]

Whats the difference between the original and the new one?

-😈💜 (Obey Me anon )

it takes place in the past and the brothers (+some company) dont remember who you are (youre also Not You, to be vague). the battle mechanic is a rhythm game this time, theres a uh... tiktok clone for the devildom. where you can see 3d models move around. theres also another ingame app with a similar feature. we still have :d jobs, akuber, akuzon, nightmare, etc. theres all new cards as well but they follow the same level tree if im not mistaken.

[kazutora-kurokawa]

Can I ask for a first time (iykyk) with tenjiku? Where reader is a bit shy at first but man she kinky af on the insideee

Tenjiku x Shy!Virgin!->Kinky!Reader

♡ NSFW, fem reader, fluff kinda, virginity loss obviously, virgin!Shion, soft sex -> kinky shit, rough sex/manhandling, overstimulation, creampie/breeding kink, cum play/cum drinking, daddy kink, saliva/spit play, tongue kissing, size kink/belly bulging, degradation, biting ♡

Characters: Izana, Kakucho, Ran, Rindou, Mucho, Mochi, Shion, Hanma

note: anon you ate real bad with this idea, I'm so sorry I procrastinated so hard with this 😭 I should be ashamed of myself fr

edit: added Hanma for @sayaka-ur-cutie

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Izana (breeding kink)

🎴 Izana is surprisingly gentle at first, he wants to make your first time as pain free as possible. But as soon as he feels you thrusting your hips against his and basically fucking him back, he's gone, eyes rolled back and everything (I believe in extra sensitive!Izana). It also didn't help that you were whining for him not to pull out, the mere thought of cumming inside you had him seeing stars. He spent the rest of the night fucking, filling, and overstimulating you.

Kakucho (cum play)

🩷 Kakucho literally makes the sweetness love to you, and it's not until after that he finds out how freaky you really are. After he pulls out and takes the condom off, he's shocked (and aroused) to see you take it out of his hand and raise it to your lips, swallowing every drop of his cum from it. He's standing there for a solid minute or two just staring at you before finally mustering up the courage to politely ask you if you want more.

Ran (daddy kink)

💜 Ran knows it's your first time, so he's going nice and slow with you...up until you call him daddy. He doesn't even say anything, he just smirks because he knew you were an undercover freak. He starts going slower, trying to make you whine and beg for him. He'll only speed up again if you call him daddy again though.

Rindou (spit play)

🩵 Rindou loves the way you hide your face when he starts fucking you, he thinks it's cute that you're so shy. You're a lot less shy by the time he finds the perfect rhythm though, your hands roaming all over his body as he pounds into your pussy. Eventually your hands find their way to his hair, tangling in his locks and pulling him into a kiss. He thinks it's just a sweet little kiss and it was, until you slipped your tongue in his mouth. He just couldn't help but moan into the kiss before sliding his tongue into your mouth in return. And he definitely picked up on the way you clenched around him when his spit mixed with yours and started dripping down your lips and chin. He found your weakness, so expect him to exploit it to the fullest extent from now on.

Mucho (size kink)

💙 Mucho didn't think much of it when you mentioned how big he was, he knew you were just stating the obvious and probably a little nervous since you were a virgin. But when he kept hearing you say it in between the occasional moan or whimper while he was fucking you, that's when he realized just how much the difference in size turned you on. And he definitely didn't mind, if anything he started doing things to make the size difference more obvious. He grabbed your thighs and pressed your legs closer to your body, making you bend in ways you didn't know you could. He manhandled you, touching you with more force to show off his strength. But his new favorite thing was pressing his hand against the prominent bulge in your tummy, chuckling softly as you moaned and writhed in pleasure underneath him.

Mochi (degradation)

🍡 Mochi knew it was your first time, so he was extra careful not to hurt you...physically anyways. You just looked so cute underneath him, he couldn't help but tease you a little. Whispering dirty praises in your ear, telling you how good of a slut you were for him. He'd totally understand if you weren't into it, but the smile on his face when he felt your pussy gripping him tighter gave away the absolute delight he felt in knowing that you were just as nasty as him.

Shion (biting)

♥️ Shion took his sweet time when he took your virginity, mainly because he was a virgin too and wanted your first time together to be special. He gently thrusted in and out of you with his face buried in the crook of your neck, planting soft kisses all over. All his gentle efforts went out the window when he felt your teeth sinking into his shoulder though. He had an almost visceral reaction to the bite, letting out a gasping moan and gripping your thighs tighter as he slowed down his thrusts, trying desperately not to cum inside you. He didn't know how to react, so he did what his body told him to and gently bit you back, his dick twitching inside you as he heard you let out a soft whimper. You two spent the rest of the night in each other's arms, fucking gently and nipping at each other's skin.

Hanma (rough sex)

🏵️ Hanma knew you were a virgin and was fully prepared to be gentle with you, at least at first. As soon as he bottomed out in you he knew damn well he wasn't going to be gentle the entire time. And your soft moans and the way you begged him to go harder only spurred him on. By the end of the night he was balls deep in your pussy with no intentions of ever being gentle in the bedroom again.

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Taglist

@arlerts-angel @i-literally-cant-with-this @trevengersprincess @giugiette @katkusuo @happy-trenchcoated-impala @drunkcheesecake @darkstarlight82 @reiners-milkbiddies @manji-hoe

[rockintapper]

the

[iysics]

.

[shadowdaddies]

I would love an Azriel x reader where they are friends and they have a conversation and Azriel’s scars come up. And he talks about how he hates them and always tried to hide his hands. Then the reader says something about how they find them sexy because all the textures and bumps would feel amazing in the bedroom. Then Az just flabbergasted because he never thought of it like that

Hi! Thank you for the request, lovely. Sorry this took me so long, I hope it is worth the wait.💜

Your Touch

Azriel x f!Reader

warnings: smut below the cut, oral f!receiving, allusions to past injury

Cool autumn wind blew gently across your face, blowing strands of your hair to tickle your cheeks as you stepped outside to the training ring. It was a quiet morning, too early for anyone else to be up, or so you thought. The sound of metal brushing stone drowned out the birds’ morning chirps, drawing you toward the source of the disruptive noise.

Azriel’s dark form contrasted against the light morning mist, the Shadowsinger’s large wings folded tightly behind him as he hunched over his treasured blade. Eyebrows furrowed with focus, Az sharply dragged Truth Teller along the whetstone with more force than usual. 

You were one of few who recognized the spymaster’s subtle tells, who knew when something was bothering him. The way he gripped his blade, scarred hands flexing with each purposeful stroke against the stone... With a flush you looked away just in time before hazel eyes flicked to you. 

It was a practiced dance, a rhythm that flowed in flawless agony each time you caught yourself staring at your best friend. That tug in your chest that pulled you to find him in moments like this also let you know when he could feel you - your eyes on him, your presence - but you would not let him feel your longing.

He was the most thoughtful, loyal male you had ever known, and nothing was worth risking losing his place in your life. So you looked away, time after time, in hopes of keeping him around in any way possible.

“You’re up early,” his warm voice rumbled, snapping you from your spiraling thoughts. Forcing your gaze to his, you thanked the Mother for the cool breeze disguising the blush on your cheeks. You smiled, watching the gold in his eyes shimmer as he offered a small smile back.

“I could say the same to you,” you countered, willing courage into your bones and urging them forward to find your seat next to Azriel on the bench. His wrist flicked blade against stone once more, sparks flying as he huffed a tense breath. “Please be careful, Az,” you murmured, resisting the urge to reach out and touch him. “You’ll cut your hand,” you added, nodding to his other hand which held the whetstone.

A short, humorless laugh escaped him, no hesitation in his reply. “As if they could look any worse.”

You both grew immediately still, hearts pounding now louder than the birds in the trees, Azriel’s words hanging in the air like a dark cloud. You tracked how his throat rolled, another tell of nerves, of what he’d admitted.

“Azriel,” you whispered, taking the opportunity of his pause to reach for his arm as you looked into his eyes. You could see the emotions warring within them, the deep tortures of his past swirling, same as those thoughts eddied into darkness itself. “Your hands are beautiful.”

His eyes shuttered at your words, body tensing but not moving away from your reassuring touch. “Do not feel pity for me,” Az gritted out, his chest rising dramatically with unreadable emotion. “I know the hideous scars I have bared my entire life. Do not pretend they’re beautiful when I know they’re not.”

Something sparked inside of you at his words, as if the Mother herself propelled you to take his hands more firmly in yours. The intensity in your gaze drew Azriel from his stupor, his lips slightly parting as he looked at you in wonder.

“I do not ‘pretend’ anything about you is beautiful, Azriel. I know you are. And your hands...” You paused, allowing your gaze to drift to where you held him, his palms laid gently against your fingers. You stroked the skin there, the grooves and ridges surprisingly soft against your own. Earlier thoughts of those hands, how they might touch you, incensed your mind, leading your thoughts astray - for only a moment.

Azriel cleared his throat, drawing your eyes back to his own where instead of those earlier emotions, now lay a hint of mischief. “My hands...?” he questioned, brows raised in intrigue. 

No weather could disguise the burning of your cheeks now, no birds to drown out the nervous laughter that escaped you. “I, um... I think they are very nice,” you managed, dropping his hands and quickly shifting slightly away.

“They’re nice?” Azriel pressed, his curiosity only growing from your statement.

Breathless, you continued, something in your gut giving you the bravery to finally share a small part of what you felt for Azriel with him. “Yes, they’re... they would feel nice.” Panicked gaze finding his, you amended, “I mean, they do feel nice. Just now, when I held them.”

Azriel was now smiling down at you with an amused grin. “No, you said they would feel nice... What does that mean?” 

Fumbling over words, none came to you. Feeling like a rabbit caught in a snare, you prepared to run when those hands found yours. Azriel pulled you close, holding you in place more surely than gravity as one scarred finger ever so lightly traced your cheek. 

“Tell me where they would feel good,” he purred, voice low and commanding as you leaned into his touch.

“Everywhere,” you breathed. 

Instantly, Azriel’s hands were everywhere, grabbing any part of you he could as the two of you frantically stripped each other of your leathers. Laying you down against the training mat, Az’s black hair fell around his face as he grinned and lowered his lips to yours. Soft but precise, he knew exactly what he was doing as your body became aflame beneath his.

Lips and hands trailed down your body, leaving reminders of your pleasure in their path before he paused above your pussy, so warm against the cool autumn air. “I want to hear how good this feels,” Az murmured, giving no explanation before his finger barely grazed your clit, sliding down to your core. 

You had never felt more vindicated than in that moment, when reality proved better than fiction. Azriel’s warm breath fanned over your heat as he watched your reaction to his touch, finger slowly teasing inside of you before he added another. 

Your mewls and gasps echoed through the open air along with his name, giving Azriel satisfaction as his wrist flicked and curled his fingers, working you as expertly as his blade. The moment his lips touched your clit, you were gone. Back arched off the mat, you felt the cool breeze against your sweaty, writhing body. 

Azriel continued working you through your high, pulling his hand from your cunt to hold it in the light for the both of you to see. Studying the glistening coat of your slick on his fingers, Azriel hummed. “That is beautiful,” he murmured, before turning to lock eyes with you while he licked his digits clean, openly groaning at the taste.

Smirking up at him, you lunged to pull Az back towards you, eager to have your hands on him now, but the shadowsinger held your wrists, stepping back with a ‘tsk.’ 

“We’ll have time for that later,” he winked, tossing you your clothes. “Training starts in two minutes.”

Jaw slack, you prepared to argue with him when you heard the doors open, Nesta and Cassian’s voices echoing as you scrambled to get into your leathers before they could see. 

“Gods, it reeks of sex in here,” Nesta groaned, silvery eyes scanning until they landed  between you and Azriel. A brief smirk graced her lips before she muttered something that sounded like “finally,” smacking a chuckling Cassian on the shoulder and settling in on the other side of the training area. 

You looked to where Azriel stood in the spot where he’d just worshipped your body, gaze not shying away in the slightest from his satisfied smirk as you calculated the time until training was over.

[symbolicmyths]

made it into the top Oleta Adams listeners on lastfm feeling very proud rn

[cedarmoonzz]

Hello! I was wondering if I could request a small continuing to your Ford fic? I really enjoyed it and tugged my heart strings. I love you work so much and if your able to do that without any issue, I'd love that!😭💜

yes! i love that six fingered cartoon dilf with every fiber of my being!

once more to see you •｡ꪆৎ ˚

continuation of: between the bars followed by: slow like honey

fandom: gravity falls

ship: ford x reader

content: angst, stanford's poor attempt at comfort lol

summary: when your fiancé’s episodes of paranoia spiral out of control, you come to a difficult realization.

You’ve always seen yourself as someone grounded in logic. Pragmatic to the bone, you’ve relied on reason and science to navigate life, finding comfort in facts and the concrete reality they bring. But lately, that sense of security has started to unravel. 

The cabin was frigid, its icy air wrapping around you like a shroud, seeping into your very bones despite your efforts to ward off the chill. The socks you wore—a secret purchase made without Stanford’s knowledge—offered little warmth, though they  greatly softened the sound of your steps as you quietly drifted from the bedroom to the kitchen, then to the closet, nursing your third cup of coffee that night. Each breath you took was quick, shallow, as if the cold air was stealing it away. As you finally settled at the desolate kitchen table, a wry thought flickered in your mind: could the layers of plywood and fiberglass beneath you truly muffle the frantic beating of your heart, hiding it from your fiancé’s ever-watchful ear? In your own, the rhythm pounded, echoing like a circle of drums, impossibly loud in the oppressive stillness of the cabin.

Stanford’s paranoia didn’t burst into your lives all at once; it crept in quietly, almost imperceptibly, like a shadow growing longer at dusk. It all began when he developed a peculiar fascination with triangles—a simple, geometric shape that, in his hands, took on a life of its own. He transformed the cabin, once a place of warmth and refuge, into a gallery of trigonometric stained glass, each piece more elaborate, more intricate than the last. At first, you found it endearing, even charming, and you laughed it off as just another of his harmless quirks. You told yourself it was just Stanford being Stanford, his brilliant mind forever chasing new ideas.

But as the days turned into weeks, the triangles began to multiply. Their sharp, precise edges cast strange, fragmented light across your home, turning familiar spaces into something alien, almost unrecognizable. You began to notice how the once-welcoming cabin now felt distorted, its atmosphere thick with an unspoken tension. And yet, you didn’t see it for what it was—not at first. You didn’t want to see it. You told yourself it was just the glass, just the way the light hit it, just the way Stanford was channeling his creativity. You ignored the way your stomach twisted with unease, dismissed the creeping dread that settled in your bones.

You shook your head, trying to banish the haunting thoughts that swirled in your mind. There was no time to dwell on what had already happened; what mattered now was moving forward. Rising from your seat, you made your way to the bedroom you and Ford once shared, a space now overshadowed by his office chair, which had become his sanctuary. You reached into the closet, your fingers brushing against the familiar fabric of your thick army jacket. The worn texture offered a rare comfort, a tangible reminder of a time before everything had shifted. As you fumbled through the pockets, your hand closed around a pack of cigarettes—an old habit you had left behind during your second year of graduate school. A fleeting wave of nostalgia washed over you, mingled with regret for the time lost. You slipped the pack back into your pocket and donned the jacket, its sturdy fabric promising some semblance of protection against the biting night winds and the snow that still whirled outside the closed window.

Your gaze then fell upon your boots, left carelessly on the closet floor, caked in mud from past forest excursions with Stanford. You reached down, lifting them with a mixture of sentiment and practicality. With the boots in hand, you carefully descended the stairs, each step deliberate to avoid the creaking floorboards. At the kitchen door, you set the boots down and slipped them on, their familiar weight grounding you in the present. Quietly, you opened the door, the chill of the night air meeting you as you stepped into the darkness, ready to face whatever lay beyond.

You stood on the porch of your home, clad in baggy sweatpants, an oversized coat, and your old brown army boots. The cold night air wrapped around you, but the weight of the familiar clothing offered a small measure of comfort. You instinctively reached into your pocket, a gesture that felt oddly nostalgic, like reconnecting with a part of yourself that had been missing. Pulling out a cigarette, you brought it to your lips, and then you fumbled into your other pocket, searching for a long-abandoned lighter. Your fingers brushed against the cold metal as you hoped to find one still with fluid.

After a moment of fishing, you finally found it. With a deep breath, you shut your eyes, the cigarette resting between your fingers as you brought the lighter to your face. The small flame flickered to life, illuminating your face in the darkness as you lit your former vice. You’d given up smoking years ago, recognizing it as a bad coping mechanism, though it had always managed to calm your nerves better than any of the so-called remedies Stanford had suggested—yoga, green tea, or otherwise. Stanford had never missed an opportunity to chide you about it, yet in moments like these, when the world felt overwhelming and uncertain, the familiar warmth of the smoke provided a fleeting solace, a small rebellion against the chaos of your thoughts.

You couldn’t shake the image of your fiancé from your mind. The one person you had always relied on as your rock, your steadfast partner in all things logical and real, now seemed a stranger. He had become obsessed, shining a flashlight into your eyes, searching for something hidden in the depths of your pupils. Each time that harsh beam flickers across your eyes, it chips away at your sense of reality, leaving you to wonder if his strange behavior is a sign of something far darker lurking beneath the surface. The familiar comfort of the cigarette seemed almost to mock the confusion and dread that now defined your days, as if trying to find stability in a world that had become increasingly alien.

“[Y/n].” Ford’s voice sliced through your reverie, its suddenness filling you with an indescribable anxiety. The feeling was sharp and unsettling, a gnawing presence that you couldn't quite classify as rational or otherwise. It wrapped around you like a cold fog, clouding your thoughts and intensifying the sense of disorientation that had already taken root.

He stood behind you in the doorway, the light from behind casting a soft, almost ethereal glow around him. From this angle, you might have thought he looked perfect, a vision of calm and composure that seemed untouched by the chaos of your shared reality. The gentle halo of light made him appear almost otherworldly, a serene figure caught in a moment of stillness.

Yet, his appearance betrayed a different story. His hair was frantic and messy, a wild tangle of curls that seemed to reflect his inner turmoil. The bags under his eyes had deepened, etched by sleepless nights and relentless stress. Despite the disarray, there was a softness in his gaze, a look of tenderness you had missed with all your heart. It was a fleeting reminder of the warmth and affection that once defined your relationship, now overshadowed by the encroaching distance and disquiet that had come to dominate your lives.

You had tried so damn hard to stay quiet, to remain out of his way. You'd let him overwork himself to the bone if that’s what he wanted, even though it felt like a slow erosion of everything you once knew. You’d had the argument too many times to care by now, the words always seeming to fall on deaf ears. All you wanted was to avoid the inevitable confrontation, to give him space, even as his obsessive behavior grew ever more unsettling. 

"Stanford," was all you said in response, your voice barely more than a whisper. You lifted the cigarette from your lips, the smoke pooling around you like a hazy veil. As you exhaled, you cast a glance up the staircase, the familiar sight offering no answers, only a silent reminder of the space between you both.

“You’ve started smoking again,” he observed, his tone carrying a note of quiet surprise. The statement lingered in the air, the drifting smoke accentuating the distance between you. It was as if the sight of the cigarette in your hand was a reflection of the changes he could no longer ignore.

“Didn’t think you’d notice.”

The cigarette met your lips once more. You took a long drag, the smoke filling your lungs as your eyes remained locked with his. In that moment, it felt as if time itself had frozen, leaving you both suspended in the delicate space between old familiarity and the evolving distance that now defined your relationship.

“Of course I would,” he said, his voice carrying a soft tinge of regret.

You dropped the cigarette into the snow, watching as it hissed and sizzled against the cold ground. With a decisive step, you crushed it underfoot, pressing it into the snow for good measure. The smoldering embers were quickly extinguished, leaving only a faint trace of smoke lingering in the frosty air.

“Sorry,” was all you could manage to utter, the word feeling woefully inadequate in the weight of the moment. It hung between you, a simple apology for the complexities that neither of you could fully address.

“It’s cold. You’ll catch your death out here,” he muttered, his voice laced with a blend of concern and weariness. He stepped aside from the doorway, making way for you with a gentle gesture. The warmth from inside seemed to beckon, a stark contrast to the frigid night air.

You looked into his eyes, and he stared back, the moment stretching between you as if everything else had come to a halt. The world outside faded into a blur as snapshots of your relationship flickered through your mind—moments of laughter, shared dreams, and fleeting happiness. With each memory, you found yourself questioning what had gone wrong, what could have been different, and what measures you might have taken to alter the course of events.

In the midst of that frozen silence, a question slipped from your lips before you could even stop yourself: “Ford, are you still in love with me?” The words hung in the air, unexpected and raw, their weight adding a new layer of complexity to the already tense moment.

His head snapped towards you, eyes widening with a shock that seemed to crystallize in the cold night air. His gaze pierced into yours with a fierce intensity, as if your question had struck a chord deep within him. His eyebrows knit together in a furrow of confusion and apprehension, while his mouth tightened into a thin, resolute line. The change in his demeanor was palpable; his posture straightened as though he were bracing himself for a storm.

With a determined stride, he marched to stand beside you in the snow, the door to the house slamming shut behind him with a resonant thud that echoed through the night. The two of you stood together, the moonlight casting a ghostly glow upon the snow, which reflected a bluish light that danced across the scene. The snow-covered ground sparkled faintly, but the surrounding darkness clung to you both like a shroud.

He stared down at you as you stared at your feet, standing only an arm's length away, the proximity intimate and charged. For a moment, the world seemed to hold its breath. The only sound was the soft shushing of dormant branches swaying in the wind, their gentle rustling mingling with the quiet stillness of the night. The cold air wrapped around you both, creating a palpable silence that stretched between you, broken only by the occasional whisper of the wind through the snow-laden trees.

His hand reached out, fingers closing gently around your chin. With a deliberate motion, he angled your gaze upward, drawing your eyes away from the snowy expanse at your feet and into his. The touch was firm yet tender, guiding your focus to the depth of his own eyes. It was just like he used to do moments before he pressed his lips against yours.

Your eyes met his, and in that brief, suspended moment, you saw the glistening, unshed tears pooling in his gaze. They shimmered in pale light of the moon, their potential to fall betraying the fragile veneer of his composure. The raw, unguarded emotion in his eyes was a stark contrast to his usual facade, revealing a depth of sorrow and vulnerability that seemed to unravel the very essence of his being.

“Don’t you ever ask that again,” his voice cracked, the words trembling as they escaped his lips. He leaned forward, resting his forehead gently against yours, the closeness both intimate and overwhelming. In that tender contact, you felt a deep ache, missing his touch more than you had admitted to yourself. The warmth of his skin against yours, the vulnerability that he seldom showed, was a poignant reminder of what you had longed for but also feared.

Your breath caught in your throat, the tightness nearly choking you as emotions surged within, rendering you on the brink of tears. Frustration twisted inside you, mingling with a deep-seated ache as you grappled with having surrendered so effortlessly to the solace of his presence. The warmth of Ford’s touch, so familiar and comforting, had shattered your defenses with an almost unbearable intimacy.

In that raw, exposed moment, you recognized a profound truth: you loved Ford with a depth that went beyond reason. You understood him completely, and you would remain steadfast by his side. Even if it meant losing yourself in the process, he would always draw you in. It was a certainty you could not escape.