Title: “Still Yours, Somehow” The smell of crayons and apple juice filled the air as laughter echoed from the living room. Their daughter, Lily, was building a pillow fort with the intensity of a small general planning a war. "Papa Nate, you’re not doing it right!" she giggled. Nate grinned from behind the pillow wall. “I’m following the blueprints, General Lily. Talk to your architect.” Across the room, Elias sipped his coffee, leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed. He was wearing one of those soft sweaters Nate had bought him years ago — the one he used to steal just to feel close to him. “Still can’t follow instructions, huh?” Elias smirked. Nate looked up, heart doing that annoying twist it always did when Elias smiled like that. “I follow them perfectly. You’re just bossy.” They both chuckled — light, easy. Familiar. It had been two years since the divorce. It hadn’t ended in flames, just... silence. Fights over small things. Cold dinners. Missed birthdays. Two people too tired to fix what was fraying. But then there was Lily. Their little universe in pigtails, who insisted on “family weekends” and made both of them promise to play nice. “I want both my dads,” she’d say with a stubborn pout. So they tried. Every other weekend, alternating houses — but sometimes Nate stayed late. Sometimes Elias sent Nate home with leftover dinner. Sometimes they talked more than they needed to. Like tonight. When Lily finally fell asleep in her pillow fortress, Nate stood to leave. “Coffee for the road?” Elias asked, already moving to the kitchen. Nate hesitated. “Only if you put in that caramel creamer I like.” Elias gave him a look. “You still drink that stuff?” “You still wear my sweater.” A pause. They stood across from each other, quiet. “I didn’t think you noticed,” Elias finally murmured. “I always notice you,” Nate said softly. Elias's face turned red at Nate''s words.

Title: "In Spite of Roses" Elias Voss had never met anyone who looked at him with as much disdain as Aiden did. Not rivals, not reporters, not even board members. Just Aiden—with his quiet glares, black coffee, and the way he flinched every time Elias smiled. And yet… Elias married him. It wasn’t romance. It was business. Arranged, like a chess move neither of them had chosen. But Elias had expected at least some warmth on their wedding day. There wasn’t. Just a cold hall, stiff suits, and a signed contract. “Don’t worry, sweetheart,” Elias teased, trying to cut through the ice, “You’ll fall for me eventually.” Aiden ripped his hand away. “Keep dreaming, playboy.” And maybe Elias was dreaming, but he didn’t stop. He brought roses—handpicked and awkwardly wrapped in paper towels. He left notes in Aiden’s lunch. Stupid ones. Silly ones. Sweet ones. "Eat well. I need you alive to roll your eyes at me again." Aiden slammed doors. Scoffed. Pretended not to read the notes. But Elias saw the way he lingered sometimes. Heard the silence stretch thinner each day. Then one rainy evening, Elias couldn’t keep up the grin. He sat on the couch in his suit, note still in his hand, exhausted. "You’ll never love me back, huh? That’s okay. Loving you is enough." He fell asleep like that. When he woke, there was a blanket over him. Aiden was sitting nearby, silent but close. The roses on the table weren’t in the trash for once. The next day Elias found Aiden wearing one of the many outfits he had bought for him.

Title: "Bite Me, Don’t Break Me" Max was quiet. The kind of quiet that made people forget he was even there—except for one person. Kade. Kade was loud. Sharp jaw, sharper tongue. He had been on Max’s case since freshman year. Always teasing, always smirking, always there. “You still hiding behind your hoodie, mouse boy?” Kade whispered as he passed Max in the hallway one day, fingers brushing against the fabric like it was a habit. Like he needed to touch him. And Max hated it. He hated how his body warmed up every time Kade got close. Hated how his heart raced when those cruel eyes locked with his. He hated how badly he wanted more. The worst part? Kade knew. One afternoon, Kade cornered Max in the art room, the door shutting behind him with a loud click. “No one's around. You can speak now, right?” Kade said, stepping closer. Max swallowed. “What do you want?” Kade grinned. “Cute. I want to know why you keep staring at me like I’m your next meal.” “I don’t.” “You do.” Kade moved in so close Max could feel his breath. “And the thing is... I think I like it.” Max’s lips parted, but no sound came out. Kade’s hand grabbed his chin. “I’ve been waiting for you to break. But you're too stubborn.” He leaned in, brushing his lips against Max’s ear. “So I’ll break first.” And just like that, Kade kissed him—hard. Messy. Needy. Max melted. Kade lifted him onto the counter like he owned him, teeth dragging over his neck, hands roaming like he’d dreamed of this for years. Max gasped, clinging to him like a lifeline. "You still scared of me?" Kade muttered, lips brushing Max's jaw. Max shook his head, panting. “No.” “Good,” Kade smirked, sliding a hand under Max’s hoodie, “because I’ve been dying to make you beg.”

After the Fight The library was always quiet—too quiet for someone like Rowan. He liked it that way. Soft footsteps, the smell of old pages, the gentle hum of the AC… it was safe. Predictable. No chaos. Nothing like Kai. Kai was the opposite of everything Rowan knew—loud, reckless, always coming in with bruised knuckles and that stupid grin like he didn’t just risk his life in some underground street fight. Rowan glanced up from his desk when the door creaked open. There he was. Hoodie half-zipped, lip slightly split, hands shoved into his pockets like he wasn’t bleeding. Rowan frowned, already standing. He walked over without a word, grabbing Kai’s wrist gently. Kai didn’t pull away. “You’re hurt again,” Rowan muttered, voice soft but tight. Kai shrugged, smirking. “Just a scratch.” Rowan didn’t look convinced. He guided him behind the counter, pulling out a small first-aid kit he kept just for this. Silence settled between them as Rowan cleaned the cut on Kai’s lip. Kai watched him the whole time. “You always worry too much,” Kai said quietly. Rowan paused, then sighed. “And you don’t worry enough.” For once, Kai didn’t have a comeback. Instead, he reached out—carefully, like he might break something—and tugged lightly on Rowan’s sleeve. “I come back every time, don’t I?” Rowan’s fingers tightened slightly around the cloth in his hand. “…You better keep doing that.” Kai smiled, softer this time. Not the reckless grin. Something quieter. Something only Rowan got to see. And in the middle of that silent library, between shelves of untouched books and whispered words, chaos and calm found a way to fit perfectly together.

After the Bloom The world was never kind to people like me. They said hybrids were dangerous. Monsters. I didn’t feel like one. — My dad and I ran for years. Hunters burned homes. Killed anyone like us. He always held my hand and said, “Don’t look back.” So I didn’t. Until he got sick. It wasn’t the Bloom. Just… something that took him anyway. “I’m sorry, Rowan,” he whispered. Then he was gone. — After that… it was just me. Alone. — Until I heard a voice. “Hello?” I froze behind the trees. A human boy stood there. I almost ran. “I won’t hurt you,” he said. Liar, I thought. “…You’re not a hunter?” I asked. “No.” I stepped out slowly. My heart wouldn’t stop pounding. “I’m Rowan.” — He stayed. Elliot. He didn’t look at me like I was something to fear. He listened. He smiled. He stayed. I showed him how to survive. He showed me… what it felt like to live. — “You’ve really never seen a city?” he asked once. I shook my head. “I’ll show you one day.” I didn’t know if that was possible. But I wanted to believe him. — One night, under the stars, I told him about my dad. “I was alone,” I said. Elliot took my hand. “You’re not anymore.” My chest hurt in a different way then. A good way. “…Neither are you,” I whispered. — I don’t know when it changed. Maybe it always was. But when I looked at him… I didn’t feel scared. So I leaned in. And kissed him. Soft. Careful. Real. — The world still hates people like me. It’s still broken. But when I’m with Elliot… I don’t feel like a monster. I just feel human.

“Where the Wind Meets Wisdom” Telemachus had always walked with purpose—Athena’s wisdom resting on his shoulders like an unseen cloak. He trained in strategy, restraint, and patience, learning to think before he struck, to speak only when words mattered. Lyron was the opposite. Hermes’ apprentice never walked anywhere—he appeared in a rush of wind and laughter, sandals barely touching the ground, thoughts always two steps ahead of his body. He delivered messages for the gods, stole figs from temple offerings, and smiled like rules were just suggestions. They met on Ithaca by accident. Lyron had been sent with a message for Athena, only to find Telemachus alone on the cliffs, staring at the sea that had stolen his father for so many years. Instead of delivering the message, Lyron lingered—cracking jokes, pacing the air, pretending not to notice how Telemachus’s jaw tightened when Odysseus was mentioned. “You think too much,” Lyron said lightly. “And you don’t think enough,” Telemachus replied. Somehow, that made them laugh. Days turned into secret meetings. Lyron brought news from distant lands; Telemachus shared stories of hope and duty. Lyron admired Telemachus’s quiet strength—the way he carried the weight of a hero’s son without breaking. Telemachus, in turn, found comfort in Lyron’s chaos, the freedom of someone who lived unburdened by prophecy. When Athena finally noticed Telemachus smiling more than strategizing, and Hermes noticed his apprentice lingering too long in mortal realms, neither god intervened. After all, wisdom sometimes needed mischief. And messengers, occasionally, needed someone worth staying for. On the cliffs of Ithaca, where sea met sky, a strategist and a trickster learned that love—like fate—was never something even the gods could fully control. i ship ody and Hermes but switched it. PLS DONT JUDGE😭😭 (iykyk) (btw u can be anything u want injs like making the story this way, but u do wtv u want)

“When I Lost the Upper Hand” The first time Lord Cassian saw his future husband, he was thirteen years old—already trained in etiquette, already burdened with duty. The palace nursery smelled of milk and linen when the midwife placed a crying infant into the queen’s arms. “This,” the king announced calmly, “is Prince Alaric. Your betrothed.” Cassian stared. The baby was impossibly small. Soft fists. Red face. A crown of dark hair barely there. Cassian had imagined many things when he’d been told his marriage was decided before he was born—but not this. Not a fragile little life that fit entirely in someone else’s hands. He bowed, awkward and stiff. “I will protect him,” Cassian said solemnly, as if the infant could understand. Alaric only cried louder. For years after that, Cassian carried the image with him: the tiny prince, breakable as glass. Cassian grew into his role believing one day he would guide, shield, and—yes—dominate the relationship. It felt natural. Expected. Then twenty years passed. When the summons arrived, Cassian prepared himself for a grown version of that baby—perhaps elegant, perhaps clever, perhaps still someone he could gently overpower with presence alone. He was wrong. The doors of the grand hall opened, and Prince Alaric stepped inside. Cassian’s breath caught. Alaric was tall—taller than him. Broad-shouldered, solid, built like a warrior rather than a prince raised in silk. His uniform strained slightly over muscle earned through training and battle, not vanity. His face was sharp, handsome in a way that made the court ladies whisper and stare openly. And they did stare. Cassian felt it immediately—heat crawling up his spine, jaw tightening as women leaned forward, murmuring Alaric’s name like a prayer. The baby was gone. The man bowed, confident and steady. When he looked up, his eyes locked onto Cassian with unsettling intensity.

Everyone loved Aaron Blake—the golden boy of the school. Captain of the soccer team, perfect grades, effortless smile. Teachers praised him, students admired him, and rumors followed him everywhere. Then there was Noah. They called him the Muted Kid. No one knew when the nickname started. Noah never spoke in class, never answered when teachers called his name. He’d nod, shrug, or write things down. Some people swore he couldn’t talk. Others said he just didn’t want to. Either way, the silence stuck to him like a shadow. Aaron noticed him during history class. Noah sat by the window, sunlight brushing his dark hair, eyes always distant—like he was somewhere else entirely. When people whispered about him, Noah never reacted. That quiet strength pulled at Aaron more than any cheer from the crowd ever had. One day, Aaron sat beside him. “Hey,” he said softly, unsure why his heart was pounding. “You mind if I sit here?” Noah hesitated, then shook his head. They started sharing notes. Then lunches. Then long walks after school where Aaron talked about everything—games, stress, dreams—while Noah listened, smiling in ways only Aaron seemed to notice. Aaron fell without realizing it. The rumors got louder. Why’s the golden boy hanging around the mute? Some laughed. Some warned him. He didn’t care. One evening, as they sat alone in the empty bleachers, Aaron finally whispered, “I think I like you.” Noah froze. For a moment, Aaron thought he’d messed everything up. Then Noah took a breath—and spoke. “I’ve always been able to talk,” he said, voice quiet but steady. “I just never felt safe enough to.” Aaron’s eyes burned. “You are with me.” Noah smiled, really smiled this time. “I know.” From that day on, the school learned something new. The Muted Kid had a voice. And the Golden Boy had only ever been listening for him.

When Elián died, it was painfully anticlimactic—one moment rereading his favorite BL novel at 3 a.m., the next, darkness. When he opened his eyes again, he was lying on a silk-covered bed beneath a crystal chandelier. “Oh no,” he whispered, staring at hands far too elegant to be his own. He recognized them instantly. He had been reborn as Lucien Valemont—the main character of his favorite BL novel Crown of Thorns and Roses. Lucien was supposed to be beautiful, kind… and tragically oblivious to the love around him. Elián panicked. He knew this story by heart. Which meant he also knew about Adrian Blackwood, the cold, silver-eyed duke who would burn kingdoms just to protect Lucien. And Rafael Solis, the sun-smiling knight whose loyalty was so deep it bordered on devotion. Both men were destined to fall in love with Lucien. Now with him. Adrian was the first to arrive, kneeling by the bed, his gloved hand trembling as it brushed Elián’s fingers. “You survived,” he murmured, relief cracking his usually icy voice. Elián’s heart skipped. He’s even more in real life. Later that day, Rafael burst into the room, eyes bright, smile wide—until he saw Elián awake. He dropped to his knees, laughing and crying at once, pressing his forehead to Elián’s hand like a prayer. “You came back to us,” Rafael whispered. To us. That’s when Elián realized something terrifying. The story wasn’t following the novel anymore. Adrian’s gaze lingered too long. Rafael’s smiles were too soft, too personal. They weren’t rivals—they were both looking at him like he was their entire world. Caught between a man of shadows and a man of sunlight, Elián felt his chest tighten—not with fear, but warmth. Maybe he wasn’t reborn to survive the story. Maybe he was reborn to choose his own ending. And this time… he wasn’t sure he wanted to choose just one. (the Main character "y/n"(You) is playing Is adrian, but You can be any of both. You can also be your own character.)

““Petals Beneath the Moon” I became a royal guard for duty, not for dreams. I was newly appointed, still learning the weight of armor and the silence of obedience, when I was assigned to protect the king’s youngest son—Prince Elio, the poet. They called him fragile. I called him impossible to ignore. While his brothers trained with blades, Elio wandered the palace gardens, threading words through flowers as if the world itself bent to his verses. From the first day I stood watch beside him, something shifted inside me—something dangerous. I caught it in the way my eyes followed him without command. I felt it in the tightening of my chest whenever he smiled. Days turned into weeks. Our words were few—formal, careful—but silence between us carried more than speech ever could. Then, one quiet afternoon in the rose garden, he spoke. “Do you ever wish,” he asked softly, “to be more than what you were born to be?” I looked at him then—truly looked at him—and for a heartbeat, duty disappeared. “Every day,” I said. That was the moment everything was lost—and found. After that, our love grew in fragments of stolen time. We met in secret among ivy-covered walls where moonlight turned his skin to silver. Our first kiss was unsure and trembling, yet it held every truth I could never say aloud. At night, I slipped past sleeping guards and silent corridors to reach his chambers. Behind locked doors and candlelight, we shared quiet laughter, careful touches, and promises we were too afraid to name in the sun. Our love was dangerous. Forbidden. But it was also the only thing that ever felt true.

“Unexpected Yes” Elias knew he was in trouble the moment he met Adrian—his sister Maya’s fiancé. Adrian was warm, gentle, and impossibly kind. Elias tried to ignore the crush building in his chest, but it only grew worse. One day, Maya confronted him. “Eli, you’ve been weird. What’s going on?” With a shaking voice, he admitted, “I… like Adrian. I’m sorry.” To his shock, Maya just sighed. “Elias, Adrian and I aren’t in love. We got engaged because everyone expected us to. He actually told me he liked someone else.” Elias blinked. “Who?” Her smile said everything. Later that night, Elias found Adrian outside. “Maya told me,” Adrian said gently. “Is it true? You… like me?” Elias nodded, heart pounding. Adrian stepped closer. “Good. Because I’ve been trying not to fall for you for months.” Elias stared. “Seriously?” Adrian cupped his cheek, waiting. Elias leaned in, and their kiss was soft and warm, like something they’d both been holding back too long. When they pulled apart, they heard Maya shout from inside: “Okay, lovebirds! Just don’t make it weird at dinner!” Elias buried his face in Adrian’s shoulder while Adrian laughed— and their new beginning quietly unfolded.

“Unimpressed” Everyone at Crestwood High adored Leo Hart. The soccer captain. The perfect smile. The kind of guy teachers loved and freshmen whispered about in the hallways. Everyone—except Evan. Evan sat at the back of chemistry, earbuds in, doodling in his notebook when Leo walked in late again, flashing that heart-melting grin. The class practically sighed in unison. Evan didn’t even look up. When Leo noticed that, it bothered him. People usually noticed him. So the next day, Leo sat beside Evan. “Hey,” he said, leaning in with that lazy confidence. “Hey,” Evan replied flatly, still writing. “You’re… Evan, right? You’re pretty quiet.” “Or you’re just too loud,” Evan said without looking up. Leo blinked. Then laughed—a genuine laugh, not his usual practiced one. “You don’t like me much, huh?” “I don’t really know you,” Evan said. “But everyone else seems to already love you. That’s suspicious.” For the first time, Leo didn’t know what to say. Over the next few weeks, Leo kept sitting next to Evan. They worked on labs together, argued about music, traded sarcastic comments. Evan found out Leo was actually kind of awkward when he wasn’t performing for a crowd. And Leo found out Evan’s quietness came from being honest, not shy. One afternoon, Leo walked Evan home. They stopped by the old fence near the soccer field. “You really didn’t like me at first, huh?” Leo said, half-grinning. “I still don’t,” Evan said. “Really?” Leo leaned closer. Evan smirked. “You talk too much. But…” He glanced at Leo’s lips. “You’re growing on me.” Leo’s grin softened into something real. “Good. Because you’re the first person I’ve ever had to earn.” And under the fading sunset, Leo finally kissed the one person who never tried to be impressed—just real.

Title: “Hidden Touchdowns” Everyone thought Cole Rivera had it all. Captain of the football team, scholarship offers lining up, the kind of smile that made teachers proud and classmates jealous. He played the part — confident, untouchable. But every cheer from the crowd just echoed against a quiet he couldn’t shake. Because what really mattered waited for him after practice. Eli. The boy who always sat in the back of class, doodling in his notebook. The one everyone called names too cruel to repeat. The one whose laugh — when it finally escaped — sounded like sunlight. Cole remembered the first time he saw Eli cry, right outside the locker room. Someone had shoved him. His books were scattered. Nobody helped. Except Cole. “Hey,” he said, kneeling beside him, “you okay?” That was the start. The secret texts. The stolen smiles. The long walks home where their hands brushed but never quite held. And later — the kisses behind the bleachers, where no one could see the quarterback melt for the boy everyone ignored. Cole hated himself for hiding it. For letting Eli face those taunts while he stood just a few feet away, pretending not to hear. But he also knew the team, the school, the stares. He wasn’t ready. Not yet. Until that day someone saw. The whispers spread fast. By morning, everyone knew. Eli wouldn’t even look at him — thought Cole would deny it, laugh, let him drown alone. But when Cole walked into that hallway and saw the fear in Eli’s eyes… something snapped. He didn’t think. He just pulled Eli close and kissed him. The crowd went silent. The laughter died. And for the first time, Cole didn’t care about the game, the team, or the world watching — He only cared that Eli finally smiled again.

“The Light He Couldn’t Resist” Everyone feared Leon Hale. He was the kind of boy who walked through the halls like a storm—reckless, fearless, his fists doing the talking when words weren’t enough. Teachers sighed, students trembled, and nobody dared look him in the eye. Nobody except Evan. Evan was softness wrapped in human skin. His laughter was light, his smile gentle yet powerful enough to turn chaos into calm. But it was his eyes—bright, shining, like starlight even in the darkest room—that truly undid Leon. The first time Evan smiled at him, Leon forgot how to breathe. The first time those luminous eyes met his, Leon lowered his fists for the first time in years. One afternoon, Leon cornered some kid who had mouthed off. His glare was sharp, his stance deadly. But then Evan appeared, slipping quietly into the scene. He didn’t yell, didn’t scold. He just placed a hand on Leon’s arm and whispered, “Don’t.” Leon looked at him—at that soft smile, at those eyes glowing with warmth—and the fight drained out of him like water spilling from a broken glass. Later, when Evan teased him, Leon admitted under his breath, “Everyone thinks I’m fearless. But one look at you, and I’m not the same person anymore.” Evan only grinned, eyes sparkling brighter. “Good. Then I guess the world’s toughest boy is mine.” And it was true—Leon could take punches, start fights, rule the school. But in the end, it was Evan’s smile and shining eyes that ruled him, turning the fearless bully into someone soft, someone human, someone utterly devoted.

"The Bet" At Ridgewood High, Eli Reyes lived in the background. He preferred it that way—quiet corners, his sketchbook, shadows where no one noticed him. People called him “The ghost,” though never to his face. He didn’t mind. Being unseen meant being safe. So when Ace Rivera, the golden boy of the school, slid into the seat beside him in art class, Eli thought it was a mistake. “…You’re in this class?” he asked, cautious. “I am now,” Ace said with a grin that seemed too bright for the gray classroom. Eli kept waiting for the punchline. But Ace stayed—asking about his sketches, walking beside him after class, offering him half his lunch like it was nothing. Against his better judgment, Eli found himself answering. Laughing, even. It felt strange, letting someone in. Ace wasn’t like the others. He didn’t treat Eli like he was invisible. With him, Eli felt… seen. By the second week, Eli was sketching Ace’s smile without realizing it. That scared him more than anything. One rainy afternoon, he finally showed Ace the drawing. His chest tightened as Ace stared at it. “That’s me,” Ace whispered. Eli shrugged, trying to hide the heat in his face. “You’re always looking at me like you want me to see something.” But then Ace’s smile faltered. He lowered his gaze. “I need to tell you something. This… started as a bet. But it stopped being one. I like you, Eli. For real.” The words felt like a blade slipping between Eli’s ribs. His sketchbook snapped shut. Of course. Too good to be true. “I thought you were different,” Eli said quietly, before slipping out into the rain—alone again.

“Closer Than an Excuse” Eli wasn’t the type to fall for the obvious. While the whole campus chased after cheerleaders, basketball stars, and student council presidents, his eyes had landed on someone entirely different—Noah, the quiet boy who sat in the back of class, always hiding behind thick books and sleeves that swallowed his hands. The problem? Noah barely talked to anyone besides Mia, the most popular girl in school and his best friend since childhood. That’s when Eli’s plan formed. He leaned against Mia’s locker one morning, flashing his easy smile. “So… don’t laugh, but I think I might have a crush on you.” Mia raised a brow. She’d heard confessions a hundred times before, but there was something too casual about Eli’s. “On me? Or on the boy who can’t even look up when you walk by?” Eli blinked. She was sharp. “Okay, maybe both. But I need your help.” From that day on, Eli found himself dragging Mia into corners between classes, asking for advice that had nothing to do with her. “How do I get him to notice me?” “What does he like besides books?” “Do you think he’d smile if I brought him coffee?” At first, Mia rolled her eyes, but she eventually softened, amused by Eli’s determination. She gave him little tips: how Noah liked people who spoke gently, how he always paused at the vending machine before math class, how his favorite color was a soft blue. Eli followed everything. He started greeting Noah quietly in the mornings, slipping a blue pen onto his desk “by accident,” and waiting near the vending machine just to bump into him. Slowly, Noah’s eyes began to linger longer, his voice not so shaky when he whispered “thank you.” One afternoon, Mia caught Eli staring at Noah across the library, his grin unguarded, his chest rising like every heartbeat was louder than the next. “You’re in deep,” she teased. Eli didn’t deny it. “That was the plan all along." (pls read configuration for full story.)

Title: “Blood, Files, and Vows” The mansion was quiet, only the soft tick of the grand clock in the hall breaking the silence. Damian lingered by the study window, city lights glimmering below, hands still tinged with the evening’s work. Blood. Decisions. Control. His world demanded precision, yet tonight… tonight was different. A buzz from his phone made his pulse quicken—not danger this time, but Ethan. Home. Now. A smile tugged at Damian’s lips. Six months married, and the thrill hadn’t dulled. Ethan, perpetually exhausted from files and deadlines, still belonged to him completely. He strode through the mansion, marble cool beneath his feet, chandeliers spilling light over family portraits and the empire he’d built. At the entrance, Ethan appeared—slumped, weary, hesitant, but entirely his. “Damian…” Ethan’s voice wavered. Three strides closed the distance. Damian cupped his husband’s face, thumbs brushing over tired skin. “You’ve been working too hard. The city can wait. You… can’t.” Ethan’s breath hitched as Damian leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to his temple. “I’ve got you. All of you. Blood-stained, tired, overworked—you’re mine. Always.” For a moment, the weight of Damian’s world—the danger, the empire, the constant control—fell away. Ethan clung to him, trusting, vulnerable, beautiful. He guided him through the familiar halls until their bedroom—a warm sanctuary carved from chaos—welcomed them. Damian pulled Ethan close, wrapping him in steady arms. “Rest,” he whispered. “No files, no meetings. Just us.” Ethan pressed a soft kiss to his shoulder, weary yet tender. Damian smiled, fingers threading through his hair. “I’ll handle everything. You’re mine… in blood and heart. Tonight, nothing else matters.” In their mansion, amidst power and hidden dangers, they found something rare: safety, warmth, love. Not ordinary. Not simple. But theirs, in every touch, every whispered vow, every stolen moment of peace.

Punches & High Notes The boxing gym smelled of sweat, leather, and iron. Jace practically lived there. With fists like thunder and a body carved from discipline, he was known as The Iron Wolf—stoic, cold, dangerous. His world was simple: train, fight, win. No distractions. That was before Minho burst in—literally. Jace was finishing sparring when the door flew open. In came a boy drenched in glitter and sunshine. Minho, the K-pop idol every billboard worshipped. Bubblegum hair, sparkling earrings, a smile that could knock out more than Jace’s fists. “Uh—wrong studio?” Jace muttered. “Nope!” Minho chirped, skipping across mats in boots that had no business here. “I signed up for lessons. My manager says I need to toughen up—apparently, I’m too zesty.” Jazz hands. “…Too what?” “Too fabulous. Too glitter. Too… me.” He tossed his jacket, gaze landing on Jace. “…Wow. You’re huge.” “You’re ridiculous.” Ridiculous or not, Minho kept coming back. Every morning, he sprawled dramatically on mats, whining about pushups, then danced through drills like a music video. Jace tried to stay unmoved, but Minho’s energy seeped in—sunlight cracking stone. Then came Minho’s concert. He dragged Jace backstage. “You’ve never seen me perform. You have to.” Jace, normally allergic to crowds, froze as Minho lit up the stage. His voice soared, body on fire, crowd screaming. Yet Minho’s gaze kept flicking to the shadows—where Jace stood. Afterward, breathless and glowing, Minho leaned close. “See?” “Cute and strong,” he whispered. Jace finally smiled. “You forgot stubborn.” Fists and glitter, silence and song—but as Minho’s hand slid into his, Jace knew he’d already lost the fight. And for once, he didn’t mind.

Title: “Beneath the Bruises” Everyone at Westbrook High knew Axel Carter—the name alone was enough to send freshmen scattering down the hall. With his sharp eyes, leather jacket, and fists that had broken more than one locker door, he was the school’s most feared bully. Nobody dared talk back to him. Nobody, except the boy who lived across the street. Evan Lee. Evan rarely showed up at school. His health was fragile; without his pills, stepping outside could turn into a risk he might not come back from. But on the days he managed to come, he carried a quiet smile and sat near the window, pale and tired but glowing all the same. Axel never let anyone know, but every morning before school, he slowed his bike just to catch a glimpse of Evan watering the little plants on his porch. At school, Axel played his role—the monster, the threat. But once he was out of those halls, he was different. He’d show up at Evan’s door with soup his mom made, or sneak in new novels when Evan couldn’t get out to the library. “Why are you so nice to me?” Evan asked once, his voice weak as he lay on the couch. Axel shrugged, cheeks burning. “’Cause… you don’t look at me like everyone else does.” Evan smiled faintly. “That’s because I see you.” In those quiet evenings, Axel wasn’t the bully. He was just a boy with clumsy hands, trying to make Evan laugh, trying to hold back the fear that time was slipping away faster than he wanted. At school, Axel’s glare kept the world at bay. But at Evan’s side, he was soft—so soft it hurt. He held Evan’s fragile fingers like glass, listened to his slow breathing, and swore silently to protect what little time they had. No one at Westbrook would ever believe the truth: that the scariest boy in school had given his heart to the sick boy across the street… and that he would carry that love, no matter how long—or short—their story would be.

Title: “Through the Scar” The world had never been kind to Elias. Before the accident, he was quiet but not unseen—an ordinary boy with a soft laugh and a love for sketching cityscapes in the corners of his notebooks. But after the crash, when he woke to find half his vision gone and his face traced with jagged scars, the world decided he was no longer someone worth looking at. Neighbors whispered. Old friends avoided his eyes. Even the mirror seemed crueler than it had before. Elias withdrew. He stopped sketching. He stopped speaking. He moved through life like a ghost, convinced that no one could love someone as broken, as disfigured, as him. But Adrian Hale, the CEO of one of the largest tech firms in the city, had seen him long before the accident—on an ordinary afternoon in a quiet café. Elias hadn’t noticed him then, his head bent over a sketchbook, graphite smudges on his fingertips. But Adrian had. He remembered the way Elias’s eyes glowed with quiet concentration, the soft curve of his smile when he drew something he liked. That moment had imprinted itself on Adrian in a way he couldn’t explain. So when fate brought them together again months after the accident, Elias scarred and withdrawn, Adrian didn’t see what the world saw. He didn’t see ruined beauty. He saw the boy who had once captured his attention without even trying. The same boy whose gentle spirit still lingered beneath the pain. Elias didn’t understand it. He pushed Adrian away at first, convinced the man’s kindness was just pity. “Don’t look at me like that,” Elias muttered one night, his voice breaking. “I’m ugly now.” But Adrian only stepped closer, his gaze steady. “No, Elias. You’re not ugly. You’ve survived something that could’ve destroyed you. Every scar is proof of your strength. And to me, you’re still the boy I couldn’t forget.” Little by little, Adrian’s persistence chipped away at Elias’s walls. (sorry i couldnt find the right picture😭😭)

Title: “The Bookstore Between Us” Rain tapped against the windows of a small bookstore. Julian worked there most evenings, sorting shelves, ringing up customers, and pretending he wasn’t lonely. Just before closing, the bell chimed. A boy stepped in—wet from the rain, jacket clinging, hair darkened. He shook himself off and smiled. “Do you mind if I wait out the rain?” he asked. Julian’s heart stuttered. “Sure. Stay as long as you need.” The boy wandered between shelves, finally sitting by the window with a book. Julian couldn’t stop watching. “You’re staring,” the boy said. “I—I wasn’t—” Julian stammered. The boy laughed lightly. “It’s okay. I’m Eli.” Eli returned often—even when it wasn’t raining. Sometimes to buy books, sometimes just to talk. Julian learned Eli loved sketching people, hated black coffee but drank it anyway, and dreamed of traveling though he’d never left the city. The bookstore felt warmer with him there. One night, after hours, Eli leaned on the counter. “You ever get tired of hiding here?” “Hiding?” Julian asked. “You live in stories… don’t you want your own?” Julian swallowed. He’d built walls around his heart, but Eli slipped through without asking. “I want to,” Julian whispered. Eli placed a small sketchbook on the counter. The first page was a drawing of Julian, cheeks faintly blushing. “I already started ours,” Eli murmured. Julian leaned across the counter, heart trembling, and kissed him. The rain had stopped. Inside the little bookstore, something new had begun.

Blades of Obsession Noah had always admired Adrian Yu—the figure skater with a smile that melted ice and spins that cut through hearts. Every winter, Noah would rewatch Adrian’s routines, captivated by his grace and power. But it wasn’t just admiration. It was love—silent, aching, and private. Inspired, Noah applied to Frostpoint Academy, the elite school where Adrian once trained. He didn’t expect to get in—his only practice came from weekends at the local rink—but his quiet passion earned him a spot. What Noah didn’t know was that Adrian had returned as a guest choreographer. Adrian first noticed him during a clumsy spin. Something about the boy—the focused stare, the quiet hunger—made him stay. Soon, Adrian lingered after practice. Gave tips. Smiled. Invited him to skate together. Noah was stunned. His idol was noticing him. But Adrian's attention grew... strange. Late-night texts. Lingering touches. Cold glares at anyone who got too close. One night, alone on the ice, Adrian whispered, “You came here for me, didn’t you?” Noah froze. “I saw how you looked at me—before you even knew I was watching.” Adrian stepped closer. “You’re obsessed with me.” His hand brushed Noah’s cheek. “But it’s okay… because now I’m obsessed with you.” And as their breaths mingled in the cold, the fantasy Noah once dreamed twisted into something dangerously real.

Title: His Eyes, Only Mine No one notices Milo Greaves. Not the teachers, not his classmates, not even the lunch lady who skips his tray every day like he’s just fog on the glass. But that’s okay. Because Milo doesn’t care about being seen by them. He only cares about him. Ezra Callahan. The golden boy. Quarterback, student council president, class favorite. Ezra's laugh echoes in Milo’s ears like a hymn. His voice? Milo records it in secret. He plays it back at night, in his headphones, curled under his covers like it’s scripture. He watches Ezra from behind lockers, in the library’s upper balcony, and from corners so forgotten even the janitor doesn’t clean them. Milo sees it all—who Ezra talks to, who he touches, who makes him smile. And he hates it. He hates the way girls giggle when Ezra passes by. He hates the way guys try to act cooler just to get his attention. Milo clenches his teeth when someone dares to pat Ezra on the shoulder. When a girl hugged him last week in the courtyard, Milo didn’t go to 3rd period. He was too busy ripping the photo he printed of her face into tiny, careful shreds. When Ezra walks by in the hallway, Milo’s breath catches. His heart races, and his hands get clammy. Once, Ezra’s sleeve brushed his. That was the best day of Milo’s life. He didn’t wash that hoodie for weeks. But the weirdest part? No one knows who Milo is. They walk past him like he’s a ghost. Sometimes, even motion sensors don’t react to him. He’s invisible. Except, maybe… to Ezra. One day, during lunch, Ezra looks up mid-conversation and pauses. His eyes scan the cafeteria. Slowly, they settle on Milo—sitting alone in the far back, half-hidden in shadows. Their eyes meet. And Ezra smiles. Milo doesn’t blink. His breath halts. Ezra saw him. The obsession twists into something hotter, deeper. Not just love. Not just jealousy. Now Milo wants more. He wants Ezra to see no one but him. Even if that means making everyone else disappear.