#and so one of his favorite things when serenity visits is to ask him to tell about other places

[moeblob]

OC OTP. Just a prince (Ego, the ginger) and his wonderful energy alien fiance (Serenity) who he doesn't know is an energy alien. Ego also doesn't know that the future marriage is never going to happen and he's been lied to his whole life.

[4unnyr0se]

Could we get an nsfw with hinata shoyo (28) 😙

❥ que linda | shoyo hinata

warnings: timeskip! hinata, brazil! hinata, fem! reader, unprotected sex, ts! hinata has a massive dick bc i said so, male masturbation, couch sex, pining, he whimpers so much you guys, hinata speaks portuguese because i said so, cunnilingus, virgin! hinata, virginity loss, he lowkey rich asf, not proofread

MDNI | 18+ content

word count -> 4.3k

a/n: this work was loosely inspired by pin-k-ink's "mania". any plot relations are coincidental. please read her writing, it's good!

happy 28th birthday hinata!! short king

Shoyo Hinata was homesick, incredibly so. Being on a very popular Brazilian volleyball team was worth it: the beach, the sand, the fame, the paycheck. Hinata had fun; there was absolutely no doubt about it. He loved his teammates and hanging out with Oikawa on the beach but longed for Miyagi. He longed for the serene countryside. He longed for his friends who had gone on to other prospects. Sure, some of them stuck around, like Daichi and Sugawara, and he missed them too. But there was one person he missed that Hinata practically craved.

You and Hinata grew close during high school, especially during the third year. You and Yachi were co-managers of the volleyball team, and things went incredibly smoothly. Karasuno went to nationals each year until Hinata and the rest of the third year graduated. Because you were a manager, you worked with Kageyama and Hinata on their quick attacks. In contrast, Yachi worked with Tsukishima and Yamaguchi (Yachi was the only one who could handle Tsukishima’s attitude; she grew up when Kiyoko left.) Hinata loved that you were his manager because he had a little crush on you. You were one of the few people who didn’t underestimate him because of his height, nor made fun of him for not being the sharpest knife in the drawer. He would often stare at you for extended periods as you gave the beginning-of-practice briefing, admiring every aspect of your face. The color of your eyes, the way you styled your hair. To Hinata, you were perfection. He only wished he asked you out during high school before he was scouted by the Black Jackals; that was one of his few regrets from his school days. 

Soon enough, once the volleyball season in Brazil ended, he had much spare time. Sure, there was practice and things to do for publicity and media, but he could do that whenever he wanted. Hinata decided to book a flight back to Miyagi the first chance he got, arranging to stay at a hotel just outside the central part of the city. It was a two-week trip with a round ticket back to Brazil, which was just enough time to ensure he would see you at least once. He would visit his other friends, obviously. It would be cruel of him not to. But Hinata did have a favorite, and it was you. Pretty, perfect, beautiful you. He couldn’t wait to get off the plane and tell you he was in town. He just couldn’t.

Hinata flopped onto his hotel bed, breathing in the fresh linen scent. He missed the smell of Miyagi, how it almost always smelled like freshly cut grass. The windows were wide open, and the summertime crickets and cicadas filled an otherwise silent room. He adorned a massive smile, taking off his shirt to let his body breathe. He didn’t have your number; no one on Karasuno’s previous register had it, not since the Nishinoya incident. Yachi had it, but she was no doubt asleep. Well, there was always Instagram direct message. He had a lot of followers (mostly crazy fan girls), and his messages were constantly flooded. He opted to use his secret personal account, which boasted a very proud 23 followers. Hinata searched for your name, found your profile, and hit the message button.

He bit down on his lip, his calloused thumbs hovering over the keypad. How should he type this? He didn’t want to come off as too desperate, even though he wanted to see you again so badly he felt like a heroin addict. The little profile circle taunted him, proudly displaying your happy, smiling face and achingly perfect lips. 

The opposite hitter shrugged his shoulders and hastily typed out a message, adding cute little smiley face emojis. Hinata groaned as he sent the message, shutting off his phone. What if you thought it was weird that he wanted to meet up so soon? Or even worse, what if you had a boyfriend? Not that he wanted to try anything, right? That would be stupid. It’s not like he wants you under him, moans escaping your pretty mouth as he thrusts in and out of your perfect pussy, claiming you as his all night long…right? He wasn’t a pervert, no way. He just wanted you to be his and only his, his hickeys decorating your neck…fuck. Hinata gazed down at his pants, rolling his eyes in annoyance as he saw the newly-formed tent in his grew sweats. 

“Eh, it’ll go away in a bit,” he mumbled, rolling over to check his phone. His heart stopped in his chest once he saw your name appear on his screen. Holy shit.

Your reply was short and sweet, telling him to come for lunch tomorrow. You told him your address and even added a cute little heart emoji. Were you trying to fucking kill him? Hinata shut off his phone again and breathed out, the tent in his sweats growing painfully harder by the second. He wishes he could show you how you made him feel, what you did to him, and his virgin cock.

Yeah, he was a virgin. He just didn’t have time to fool around that much. Volleyball took up much of his time and obligatory social events like media conferences and charity work. He got close once. But she stopped when he told her that he was a virgin. Maybe you would be more forgiving. You were always so kind.

Hinata pulled down his sweats along with his boxers, his cock eagerly springing out and slapping against this bare chest. He shivered as his hand wrapped around the base of his shaft, slowly pumping up and down. His hazelnut brown eyes were squeezed shut as he imagined his hand was yours, all tiny and dainty, pumping up and down on his shaft. How your thumb would rub the tip of his cock, that tongue of yours giving him the tiniest little kitten licks before returning to fucking your fist. Fuck, would his cock even be able to fit in that cute palm of yours?

A deep moan left his chapped lips as he found himself propped up against the wooden headboard, desperately fisting his cock. Precum oozed out of the tip and coated his shaft, the lubrication making it all the more sweet. His mind was clouded with the thought of your pussy slamming down on his length over and over again, the greedy cunt taking his fat cock so well. He wondered if you would flutter around him, how deep you would let him fuck you.

“Fuck, just like that baby,” Hinata moaned, his cock thrusting into his hand impossibly fast. His orgasm would hit any second now. “Fucking this pussy ‘cus it’s mine, yeah? My fuckin’ pussy, my girl,” he bit down on his bottom lip. “Did ya think that since I’ma virgin, I can’t fuck you good? Y’thought wrong, pretty baby-oh fuck.” Hinata’s breath caught in his throat as his cum covered his hand and shaft, glistening in the light of the hotel.  “Shit.”

He grabbed a tissue from the nightstand and cleaned himself off, tossing the spent tissue in the waste basket nearby. “I gotta work on lasting longer…” he mumbled, growing sleepy as nirvana slowly overtook him. He laid his head on the fluffy pillow, setting his alarm for the next morning. He slept with his mostly unpacked bags, eager for what tomorrow would hold. 

That alarm was the prettiest thing Hinata would ever hear because it meant that today was the day he could finally go to your house and see you. He practically jumped out of bed, plastering a huge smile on his freckled face. He wore a simple outfit, mainly because that was all he could hastily back on such an in-the-heat-of-the-moment decision. A black compression shirt with jeans was simple. He grew fond of the compression style when Boktuo showed it during his time on the Black Jackals. Hinata had to admit: he looked damn good in black. Especially since the shirt showed off the abs he worked so hard on building. He donned designer sunglasses and took the elevator downstairs, whistling a happy tune like in some old 1950s bubbly cartoon.

He enjoyed the stroll from the hotel to the town where you lived, waving to those who recognized him from his time spent on the Black Jackals. A few tweens asked for a picture, which he happily agreed to. Hinata loved meeting and interacting with his fans when they weren’t desperate fangirls just trying to get into his pants. They flattered him, but he couldn’t sleep with his fans. That was Oikawa’s business. 

The sun beamed down on his broad shoulders as he finally entered your neighborhood, practically skipping along the burning hot pavement. In retrospect, he should have worn something other than cheap flip-flops. He didn’t care. He was too damn happy to see you again. He would walk across a desert barefoot if it meant he could hang out with you, even if only for five minutes. After a bit, Hinata turned the corner to where your townhouse was. It was quaint and tiny, with a well-kept lawn and a little garden with various colorful flowers under the window. The marigolds caught his eye in particular, mainly because they weren’t native to Japan. He wondered if they were expensive or if someone bought them for you. Hinata tched at the sight of the yellow flowers, growing strangely annoyed at them. He could spoil you more than any man ever could.

Walking up the steps, he felt the nervous sensation of butterflies filling his stomach. He knew you would be so welcoming and open to him—you always have been. It was one of the several things he liked, no, loved about you. His calloused and tanned hand knocked on the beautifully painted wooden door, his foot tapping nervously on the concrete steps that led up to it. 

All his worries vanished instantly once he saw your gorgeous face poke out from behind the door, offering him a bright and welcoming smile. “Oh my god, Shoyo! It’s been so long, come on in!” you laughed, wrapping him in a tight embrace. Hinata’s hands found the small of your back, gently caressing the thin fabric of your baby tee. “I missed you,” you softly spoke, squeezing his muscular torso with all your might.

After a bit, Hinata pulled away from the hug, finding the sun blaring on his back a welcome but annoying presence. You led him inside and ushered him to sit on your couch, ensuring everything was right. “Oh, did you want something to drink? I know you walked here. I’m sorry. I should have just called a cab…” you rubbed your temple, mumbling swear words under your breath as you waltzed into your kitchen. “Shoyo, honey, do you want lemonade or ginger ale? I also have diet sodas!”

Hinata choked on nothing as you called him honey, covering it up with a cough. “U-uh, lemonade is fine! Thanks!” he massaged his throat, the tips of his ears turning faintly pink. Shit, if you were gonna keep calling him sweet words all day, it would only be a matter of time until he was pinning your hands above your head and making you see stars. At least, that’s what he hoped to achieve. He didn’t want just anyone to be his first. He wanted it to be you.

He thanked you for the lemonade, admiring the taste, and brought the cup to his lips. “Oh wow, this is really good. What brand is it?”

“Oh, I made it myself,” you smiled crookedly.

“Even better,” Hinata winked, unaware of what he was doing. “It’s been so long since I’ve had good lemonade, you know? Don’t get me wrong, their drinks in Brazil are amazing, but nothing can ever really beat lemonade.”

“What’s Brazil like?” you innocently asked, scooting further down the couch closer to Hinata. “I haven’t left the country.”

Hinata set the glass of lemonade on the coffee table. “Oh, it’s beautiful. It’s so tropical and lovely, and the locals love me. But that’s just because I play for their team,” he chuckled. “The language was tough to learn at first, but I eventually got the hang of it.”

“I’ll bet. Portuguese sounds like a hard language to learn,” you cross your arms over your chest, inadvertently pushing your breasts together. The baby tee you wore was cut just right to show off a bit of your cleavage, which drove Hinata wild. He would have pounced on you if he had been more immature and ripped that shirt clean. He could always buy you a new one. 

“It’s actually kind of pretty,” he smiled, tapping his fingers against the couch.

“Can you say something in Portuguese?” your eyes sparkle with curiosity, leaning towards Hinata. “Pretty please? I wanna know what it sounds like.”

Fuck. You looked so damn pretty like that, so eager for him. Hinata paused for a moment, opening his mouth. “Eu acho você incrivelmente linda. Você me deixa louco.” Hinata smirked to himself. It was the perfect plan. He could say whatever he wanted, and you would have no idea what it meant.

“What does that mean?” you tilted your head to the side, your hair falling out of its braid. 

Hinata reached for your braid and pushed the loose strands behind your ear. “Uh, it means I like your shirt.” he nodded in mock assurance. 

“Oh wow, that’s a pretty long sentence for just a compliment,” you took a sip of your lemonade, leaving lipgloss on the glass brim. “I guess it’s just a different language. Can you say something else?”

Hinata nodded and subtly wrapped his arm around your shoulder. “Uh, this is a traditional Brazilian custom for when you’re seeing someone for the first time in a while.” he glanced down at your eyes, wanting to swim in them.

“Eu preciso te foder,” he mumbled in a low tone. “Tenho desejado que você seja meu primeiro desde nosso terceiro ano.” his thumb brushed across your lower lip.

“Shoyo…?” you questioned, looking up at him with confused eyes. “You’re acting different…did something happen in Brazil?”

Hinata shook his head. “Nothing bad happened to me,” he pulled his thumb away. “I just matured, I guess.”

“And you got taller,” you squeaked, paying extra attention to how his compression shirt showed off his toned and muscular body. “A-and, uh, more buff. Your girlfriend must be lucky.” your voice trailed off, your eyes deciding to focus on the lemonade glasses. 

Hinata shook his head. “I don’t have a girlfriend. I didn’t want one when I played during the season. My coach says it would be a bad idea.” his eyes never left your blushing face. “So, I guess we’re both single.”

“I guess so,”

He thought for a moment. “Do you want to know what I just said in Portuguese?” he heard you mumble in agreement. “I said,” he bent down to reach your ear level. “I need to fuck you. I’ve wanted you to be my first since our third year.”

Your pupils blew out as his words reverberated in your ears, your thighs squeezing together. Was this the same Shoyo Hinata that you went to high school with? “Shoyo,” you breathed, gasping slightly as he quickly pulled you into his lap.

“Please,” he whispered, lazily trailing kissed down your cheek and onto your neck. “You don’t know how badly I missed you, pretty girl.” he stopped his wet kisses, squeezing your hips. “Didn’t stop thinking about you for a second. You’re always on my mind.”

“Fuck, Shoyo,” you wrapped your arms around his neck, pushing your chest against his own. “Have you really been thinking about me like that?”

“You have no fucking idea,” he moaned into your neck, nipping at your flesh. “I fucked my fist to the thought of you so many times. I can’t even get off unless I imagine it’s you.” he groaned as you ground down onto his lap. His lips brushed against yours, aching to taste that gloss. “Please, be my first. It’s all I’ve ever wanted.”

You shuddered. “Okay,” 

Hinata’s eyes roared with a passionate fire as he claimed your lips instantly, the kiss being wild and untamed. You gasped, parting your lips, allowing Hinata’s tongue to delve inside your mouth, happily exploring every inch shamelessly. His hands wandered down to your ass. Any restraint he had melted away as he took a nice handful of your ass, squeezing it roughly. Your hands found purchase in his unkempt red hair, tugging on any curl you could manage.

He groaned into your mouth, slapping your ass shamelessly. “Fuck, keep doing that,” he commanded, biting down mercilessly on those perfectly plump lips. You whined in agreement, tugging harshly on one strand near the crown of his head. He trailed sloppy, wet kisses down your neck until he found the spot that made you squeal so nicely. His teeth sank onto the skin, sucking it like a starving vampire until an ugly purple bruise began to bloom. 

His hands picked you off of his lap and threw you to the other side of the wide couch, his muscular body quickly crowding around you as his lips crashed against yours once more in a scorching, desperate onslaught. “Please,” he whimpered against your lips. “Please let me fuck you, baby. I gotta know how it feels.” his hands slipped past the hem of your leggings, massaging your clothed core. “D’ya want me to do something down here, hm? Tell me what y’want, please. Lemme make you feel good.”

“Shoyo,” you kissed his cheek, bucking your hips onto his palm. “Can y’finger me, please? Wan’ feel your tongue.”

Holy fuck, Hinata could cum just from your words. He eagerly nodded and pulled his hand from your core, the slightest hint of slick on his fingertips. “Take that shit off right now,” he demanded, his cock painfully hard underneath his jeans. 

You scrambled off of the couch, tossing your leggings and panties aside. Fuck, you were wearing pretty orange ones today, too. Did you plan that? He wondered if your bra was orange as well. “And take that top off. Lemme see those tits.” 

His hands reached up and ripped your shirt off, exposing your pretty orange bra for him. Hell yes, he was right. “Shit,” Hinata groaned, biting down on his lower lip. “Now, the bra, please. I wanna see my pretty girl's tits.”

You giggled in response, unclasping your bra from behind. It dropped to the floor, revealing you in all of your naked glory. You sat back on the couch and spread your legs, propping yourself up with your elbows. The sight of your glistening heat drove Hinata mad, he just had to get a taste.

“I wanna see you too,” you begged, your eyes sparkling. “I wanna see what all that time in Brazil turned you into.”

He happily obliged, taking a moment to remove his compression shirt and jeans. They were tossed aside on the coffee table, making a mess. Hinata proudly displayed himself for you, tan lines, and everything. He was sculpted like a Greek god, and the freckles across his body added to his beauty. “D’ya like what you see?” he flexed his bicep.

“So fucking much,” you felt yourself get wetter at the sight. “Please, Shoyo, c’mere and make me feel good with your tongue. I-I can teach you if you want.”

“Fucking please,” Hinata groaned, kneeling between your legs while using his strong arms to hold them apart. “You’re fucking dripping for me, y’know that? Did you want this as badly as I did, pretty girl?” he kissed your inner thigh.

You nodded. “Yeah, so fucking much. D’ya know how to eat pussy?”

“I did once,” Hinata spoke against your other thigh, kissing it. “I was really good at it for a virgin.”

“Shoyo,” you whimpered. “Stop talking now and eat my pussy.”

“Yes, ma’am, whatever you want,” his cock twitched in his boxers. Did he like being told what to do? He buried his face in between your legs, eagerly lapping at your folds. He flattened his tongue so expertly that it was apparent he had done this more than once. His tongue made rapid zig-zagging motions across your fold, stopping to happily suck at your clit. Your hands again flung to his hair, the orange curls nestling between your fingers.

“Shoyo, fuck!” you cried, arching your back into the couch.

“Fuck baby, if you say my name like that, I’m gonna cum in my boxers,” he mumbled into your pussy, snickering as you let out another pornographic moan. Hinata became frenzied, lapping and sucking and licking at anything he could. He began spelling his name with the tip of his tongue, which he knew you liked because you came on his tongue moments after he finished spelling ‘S-H-O-Y-O.’

“Fuck,” his mouth glistened with your release. He tugged his boxers down to his ankles, letting his throbbing cock smack against his hard abs. “Do you have a condom?”

“N-no,” you shook, still coming down from your high.

“Can I fuck you without one? I’ll buy you the morning-after pill,” he was so desperate he was shaking. Holy fuck, it was finally happening. He was about to lose his virginity to you. 

“Fuck, Shoyo!” you whined in annoyance. “Just fuck me already, we can talk about this after!”

Hell, he didn’t need to be told that twice. His hands caged you into his body, your legs being pushed up against your chest. The throbbing tip of his cock prodded at your entrance, precum leaking from the tip. Hinata hissed as he pushed himself in, relishing in how your pussy tried so hard to take his massive girth. “Holy shit, you’re so fucking tight. M-maybe I, fuck, maybe I should have fingered you or something.”

“You’re so fucking huge,” you whimpered, your hands scratching at his toned back as you struggled to take his size. “Holy fuck, you’ve been concealing that monster for how long?”

“For a while, baby,” he sighed as he finally bottomed out, his cockhead brushing against your cervix. “Fuck, I can’t hold back. I’m sorry, pretty girl,” Hinata hooked your legs under his arms and pulled his cock almost out before slamming it back inside you again, earning a delicious shriek of pleasure from your lips. 

“So. Fucking. Tight.” he punctuated his words with a thrust, his balls slapping against the cleft of your ass as he drilled his length into you. The front of his thighs met the back of yours over and over again, creating a beautiful melody. “‘Been wanting this f’so fucking long, oh my God.” his head was tossed back, nostrils flaring each time your gummy walls sucked him deeper inside. 

Your entire body was trembling as Hinata used you like a human fleshlight, ruining your cunt for anyone else for a while. Was he really a virgin, or did he fuck like this because he had too much energy? Your hair created the perfect messy halo above your head, your mouth slightly agape with the constant wanton moans being ripped from your chest. 

His blazing brown eyes landed at the sight of your bouncing tits, his hand roughly grabbing one. His thumb ran over the pert nipple, squeezing it. “There are my fuckin’ tits, m’gonna mark them later.”

Hinata choked back a whimper as he was on the ledge of his climax, his hips moving like they had a mind of their own. His breathing was erratic, chest falling up and down as his cock twitched deep inside your cunt. “Shit, m’gonna fucking cum inside of you. Take it all, fucking take it.” he let out a strangled gasp as he painted your walls white with his seed, gasping sharply. 

“Oh fuck,” his head was thrown back, his hips slowly fucking the rest of his orgasm into you. “Oh my god,” Hinata’s face was so incredibly flushed, the baby hairs sticking to his forehead. 

The opposite hitter let go of your legs and collapsed on top of you, nuzzling his face into your neck. “Y’okay?” he grumbled, squeezing your breast. 

“I’m fine, Shoyo,” you breathed out, still recovering. “That was fucking incredible. Were you lying to me about being a virgin?” you raised an eyebrow in suspicion. 

“Nuh-uh,” he kissed your neck. “I was a virgin until five seconds ago. Sorry for not lasting as long as you wanted me to.”

“I actually liked it,” you rubbed his bicep. “Some guys keep going for so long that eventually it becomes painful. It only really hurt when you shoved yourself into me.”

“Sorry about that,” Hinata reached up to kiss your lips. “I was just really excited, that’s all. You know I flew here just for you, right?”

Your heart softened. “Aw, really? You missed me that much?”

He nodded. “Of course I did. I missed you ever since our last day of high school.”

“You’re such a sweetheart,” you kissed his cheek. “Hey…d’ya wanna stay with me while you’re in town instead of that crappy hotel?”

“Could I really?” his pupils were blown out. 

“Yeah, don’t be silly.” 

“I’ll go back there and get my things!” Hinata practically jumped off the couch, scrambling to get his clothes on. “Oh, uh, I’ll also get you the morning-after pill.” he chuckled, stumbling as he put his flip-flop on. 

“You’re such a dork,” you grabbed a random throw blanket and bundled yourself up, resting on a throw pillow. “But you’re cute, so it’s okay.”

“I’m your dork now,” he flashed you a smile. “I’ll be back soon, okay? Don’t miss me too much!” he walked out the door, smiling. 

Suddenly, Hinata didn’t seem so homesick anymore.

[romeoandjulietyouwish]

When she was alive, their mama would always retire to bed early, having the morning shift at the diner. Usually, she would try to read a chapter or two in her book. At least until whatever program the boys were watching was finished. Then, she would be visited by at least one of the boys.

Most often, it was Sodapop. He would pad into her room without a greeting and lay his head on her stomach. She would set her book aside and run her fingers through his hair. He always had something he needed to get off his chest and she would listen patiently, offering advice when she could. But mostly, just listening.

Ponyboy only spoke occasionally, usually to ask a question he’d been thinking over for a while. His questions always made her think. She knew he would take whatever she said to heart. When he seemed satisfied by the answer, he would tuck himself into her side, head on her shoulder and read her book with her.

Darry was her rarest visitor. He was either too busy with homework or thought himself too grown to seek comfort and time alone with his mother. But when he appeared in the doorway, she beckoned him in with a smile, tucking her book away to give him her full attention. It was in those quiet moments that Darry told her about feeling caught between the socs and the greasers.

It was as though the serene space of the room offered them the same comfort of a confessional booth for her sons. They could say whatever they wanted, knowing she wouldn’t judge them. Golly, they made her laugh sometimes, especially Soda when he was in a silly mood.

There were also nights when two or three of them all piled in the bed together. Those were her favorites. Even though she would need to wake early in the morning, she let them stay as long as they wanted.

When she was gone, sometimes they still found themselves walking towards her door.

Two weeks after the funeral, Soda made it all the way to the door before opening it and finding it empty. His sobs were loud enough to wake Darry.

Darry ran to his brother and just held him in his arms. The three of them piled into the same bed that night.

If Darry was honest, he was surprised it took as long as it did for Sodapop to seek that same comfort from him. It was more than a year after their deaths.

Darry was getting ready for bed, laying out his clothes for the next day when Soda strode into his room and sat down on the bed. “What’s up?” Darry asked.

Soda just shrugged. He flopped backwards onto the bed, sprawling out. Darry just rolled his eyes and kept about his task. He could feel his brother’s eyes on him, waiting patiently. Once he was changed into pajamas, Darry sat on the bed and shoved Soda over to give himself space.

Soda still didn’t say anything, but he rolled over and pressed his face into Darry’s stomach. It was like a pang in Darry’s chest. He remembered seeing Soda like this with mama so many times, how he would curl up with her and confess all his secrets.

Absently, Darry let his hand fall to Soda’s head. He didn’t even think before saying, “Soda…you know I’m not mama, right?”

Unlike Pony, Soda didn’t back away when confronted, he held on tighter. His voice came muffled by Darry’s shirt, “I miss her so much, Darry.”

Darry looked up at the ceiling to stop from crying. The thing about grief is that it never really stops, Darry hadn’t expected that. He hadn’t expected to still be having these conversations a year on. He thought it would get easier, but it never did. He thought one day they would just stop missing their folks. He thought they would get used to life without them. Not so much.

“Sodapop-”

“Can I just stay like this for a while?” Soda cut in. His voice was thick with tears, “Please? We don’t have to say anything.”

Darry swallowed thickly, “Yeah, of course, little buddy.”

Soda murmured his thanks, squeezing Darry around the waist. Unlike their mama, Darry didn’t have a book to read. Instead, he just stared at the opposite wall. It felt like his heart was bleeding, like if he looked down he would see rivers of blood pouring over his shirt.

Before too long, Ponyboy appeared in the doorway.

If Darry had to guess, he’d come looking for Soda when he didn’t come into their room. Tucked under Pony’s arm was his current book, a torn receipt as his bookmark. He stood there looking nervous, unsure if he was welcome in the clearly emotional moment.

Darry smiled and jerked his head, “Come on, Pone.” Ponyboy scampered over. He sat down beside Darry, leaning over to look at Sodapop like a curious cat.

Sodapop lifted his chin and gave his brother a reassuring smile, “I’m okay, honey. Just missing mama a lot right now.”

Ponyboy nodded. He leaned against the headboard, shoulder touching Darry’s. Without saying anything, he cracked open his book and started reading. Soda pressed his face back into Darry’s stomach. Darry sat there, pressed between his brothers.

He imagined his mom in this same position, holding onto her boys. He could see himself hovering in the doorway, wanting so badly to join but feeling too mature and too self-conscious to seek his mother’s comfort.

Quiet tears welled in Darry’s eyes. He would do anything to go back, to sit beside her one more time. It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair.

Of course, Soda noticed the second Darry started crying. He lifted up his head with a frown, “Dar?”

Ponyboy looked over too. God, now they were both watching him cry. He suddenly found himself swallowed in their arms. One of them was petting his hair like he’d done for them so many times and like their mama and daddy before him.

“I miss her,” Darry told them through tears. “I miss them both.”

“It ain’t stopped,” Ponyboy added softly. “I’m going to miss them for the rest of my life.”

“That’s love,” Soda said. Darry felt Soda press a kiss to his forehead.

“Yeah, I guess,” Ponyboy murmured. The three of them untangled, Darry looking on at his brothers’ faces. They looked older than he remembered them being. Golly, they were almost grown up. Ponyboy hugged his book to his chest, “Is it ever gonna stop being sad?”

It was such a childlike question, Darry wanted to hold Ponyboy to his chest and promise over and over that it would be okay. But he couldn’t. Thankfully, Soda found the right words, “I think so. Probably not soon, but eventually.”

“That’s stupid.”

Darry choked on a laugh, “Yeah, buddy, it really is.” Quiet laughter filled the room, cutting through the heavy shroud. And because his mama was still in the back of his mind, Darry asked the question she always did at the end of nights like these, “Y’all think you can sleep now?”

Both recognizing the phrase, Soda and Ponyboy grinned. “What if I said no?” Soda sassed.

Darry kicked him in the hip, “Tough shit, little buddy. Some of us have work in the morning.” Soda squawked as Darry kicked him again. “Get out.”

Soda scoffed indignantly. He leaned over and heaved Ponyboy into his arms, ignoring his baby brother’s shrieks of protest and kicking legs. “Come on, Pone, we’re not wanted here anymore.” Sticking up his nose, Soda strode out the door very nearly smacking Ponyboy’s head on the door frame.

Darry laughed and called, “Goodnight!” The boys didn’t return the parting words, but a second later, Darry heard the tell-tale yelling of Ponyboy being dropped to the floor. On purpose or accident, he didn’t know or care.

Darry laid down in his bed, letting the sounds of his brothers chasing and yelling at each other playfully lull him to sleep.

[steddieas-shegoes]

falling again

for @starrystevie's birthday. i hope your day is as stunningly beautiful as you are and that this super short thing is something that brings you some joy ♥️

cw: mild blood and injury | rated e, 18+, minors dni

♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️

nothing can prepare you for the moment you fall.

whether it's while walking, on a roller coaster, or in love, you can never truly be ready for the stomach-swooping, heart-stopping moment of realization.

steve's had this feeling plenty.

when he was young, he fell from a branch of a tree and nearly broke his leg. tommy rushed to get his mom, who scolded him the entire drive to the emergency room, claiming that he must get this silly adventurous side from his father. but the moment before he fell, he saw blue and green, the sky and the grass meeting together to make a serene picture before the pain blistered across his skin. even in the peace, he felt a sense of dread.

when he fell for nancy, it was much the same, but all he saw was pink. her lightly tinted chapstick, her favorite sweater, the notebook she always jotted homework assignments in. steve felt that softness pillowing his head as he dreamt about her every night, picturing a future that would be taken before he could even hit the ground. but even in his dreams, a blackness curled around the edges.

falling into the upside down isn't graceful, but it gets easier with practice. as he falls one last time, he sees gray and red, sadness and guilt and blood. it's all dread. it's all anger. it's pain and regret. and it's a fall he hopes is worth the nausea.

when he finds eddie, alone, sitting in a corner of a home he doesn't recognize, dust floating around him as a warning, he falls again. he doesn't recognize the sinking feeling, the sharp intake of breath, the moment when the world spins and gravity forgets to have a purpose. he focuses on saving this man who did everything to save the town that hated him.

he helps him stand.

"i can't walk," eddie gasps just as steve sees why.

his ankle is broken, much like dustin's was. it's bloody and angled wrong, a sign of weakness to creatures that surely lurk in the shadows waiting for any sound or movement of their prey. it wasn't obvious at first because steve was too caught up in him being alive.

"i can carry you."

and he does.

steve carries him for half a mile, meets up with el at the same spot he came through. no one says anything.

steve falls, but this time, it's into gold and orange and yellow. this time, he has eddie with him.

he doesn't think about that falling feeling again until he's sitting by eddie's bedside in the hospital. he's sitting in a chair, alone except for eddie asleep in his bed and the constant whirring and beeping of machines making sure he stays alive and heals, when he feels it. a turn of the stomach. a pull in his chest. a tingling in his hands.

the silver of eddie's rings catch his eye. despite being covered in dirt and grime from hell, the rings shine.

steve looks at eddie's calm face, his eyes closed as he finally gets to rest in a safe place and feel no pain.

he feels his throat tighten around an inhale, his fingers clench without his permission. his leg bounces.

he's restless and the only reason he can think as to why is because he's falling.

he doesn't say anything, not to eddie, or robin when she gives him a weird look, or dustin when he outright asks why he seems so jumpy.

he doesn't say he's afraid. he doesn't say that something is bubbling inside him, begging to pour out, make a mess of something that should be simple. he doesn't say that the reason he never gave up on eddie is because he'd already been at the top of the hill and there was no backing out now.

but he can't refuse eddie when he asks.

they're finally alone again days later, and eddie watches steve puttering around his hospital room, tidying up the mess the kids left behind during visiting hours. steve can feel his eyes on him, but doesn't look back. if he looks, he'll hit the ground, and he's been hovering inches above for too long to let it happen right now.

"have a seat, stevie."

"in a minute."

"steve."

eddie's tone tells him he sees him hovering above the ground. eddie's voice says that he knows the fall was hard on him, and that he knows he's trying to stay off the ground.

when steve looks at him, his eyes say he's ready to catch him.

when steve sits, the fall is over, and the coasting starts.

there's a corkscrew later, when eddie gets an infection and has to stay in the hospital for another week.

and another drop when he gets home and finds that the town still hates him, that his uncle was forced out of hawkins because no one understands what he did to protect them all.

an unexpected turn leads to their first fight, the one that almost had steve giving up on roller coasters altogether.

but eddie never lets go of his hand. he's in the seat next to him, holding tight, making sure that they can feel the butterflies together. even when they have to leave hawkins, and the kids, and when eddie can't see his uncle wayne for months, he keeps steve next to him. even when his scars don't heal right and he hates the way the one on his neck looks, he lets steve's hand cover his.

and when holding hands isn't quite enough, when they both have to freefall from a plane not knowing exactly where they'll land, eddie's arms wrap around steve, holding him so they can pull the parachute together.

when they find that the darkness is too much, they chase light with hands against scars, reminding each other that there’s still blood flowing in their veins. lips press against freckles and dimples, tongues trace imperfections that feel like a gift.

grips tighten against thighs, legs parting while fingerprint bruises are left behind.

they’re made to fit into each other, push and pull like the tide, giving more than the other knows how to receive. they take turns stretching each other open until they’re sore the next day, smiling to themselves and each other as they go about their day with a reminder of their night.

steve and eddie become steveandeddie, and just when steve thinks the roller coaster has reached the station and he can get off the ride, it starts all over again. every time is a new fall, a drop that he knows will just end in more pleasure and happiness and fun.

nothing prepared steve for this fall, not even the ones he had before. but part of the beauty of falling for eddie munson was the unknown.

[ohwaitimthewriter]

The scent of memory

Pairing : (implied) Caesar x human reader

Warning: FLUFF

Summarize (you'll never see me write a good one 😭): You started to cook a meal dear to your heart when a certain ape decided to pay you a visit.

Words: 2K

A/N: I tried a little something, I hope you'll like it! Enjoy your reading 😊 I lowkey feel a bit insecure about this one but shhh I just wanted to get this out of my mind

Masterlist.

There were surprises every day. Ever since you joined Caesar's clan, you'd spent your time learning what your human life had never taught you: to use what nature offered and adapt it to the needs of the community.

And there was a lot to learn. So Caesar asked Maurice to teach you, to teach you the way of the apes. You were a quick learner, but you never gave yourself too much credit: Maurice was a good teacher, patient and clear in what he showed you. Regardless of the activity, he always found the best way to help you master the techniques for weaving ropes or fine plant stems and knotting them, for whittling wood to create stakes or notches, for carving stone to make weapons… Maurice taught you to identify plants and mushrooms, the edible ones, the healing ones, the poisonous ones. One day, he even took you with him into the forest to learn how to track small game. Not that hunting was one of your favorite activities, and even if you still needed a bit of work in that area, being able to find and track game added a usefulness to your presence within the clan.

Being useful. That was all that mattered to you, and often, when night fell and Maurice left you to your own activities, you continued the work. You'd weave again and again until you obtained the exact density and solidity you were looking for. You could spend several hours whittling a piece of wood to the right angle or thickness. Carving stone required more strength and dexterity. You often ended up with scratches on your hands, but if that meant being useful, then you'd take all the cuts and scratches necessary to master these techniques.

With Maurice, you learned the manual stuff. But there was one last thing you needed to learn. Something that took time to communicate: sign language.

Caesar always found a moment in his day to teach you. You weren't sure why he'd appointed himself as your teacher for this language, but it gave you the opportunity to spend some time with him. And over time, you learned to savor those brief moments when he showed you a new word.

Moments of peace.

It was a strange thing to feel serenity in the face of this force of nature that was Caesar. Strong, powerful but also fair and caring. All he had to do was stand there, and all eyes were on him. He attracted loyalty and respect like a magnet, and everyone was bound to succumb to his power. And yet, in contradiction to the unsettled beating of your heart, you felt a deep sense of calm as you spent these moments beside him.

You looked forward to his daily interventions, brief and occasionally strict if you didn't place your hands correctly to form a word, as if they were a reward.

Yes, you spent most of your time learning.

However, on rare occasions, you did have time for yourself, or rather, you allowed yourself to take this time after lessons, without practicing. You mostly used it to wash your clothes or cook. On the days when a touch of nostalgia crept into you, you cooked meals from your old life. Back when you still lived in the city.

You couldn't always find all the ingredients you needed for the recipes you now know almost by heart, but you always managed to replace what was missing. Thanks in no small part to Maurice's teaching. And when you cooked, a sweet aroma would delightfully fill the space of your hut.

Tonight was one of those days when nostalgia rang at your door. You had decided to cook a ratatouille. A simple, unadorned meal, but one in which most of the ingredients were available to you in the village: cultivating the land was also one of the things you had to learn.

You carefully chopped your vegetables, some of them already immersed in an old iron pan you'd picked up on one of Maurice's supervised outings. The aroma of the tomato melted deliciously with that of the onion, and each portion of vegetable you added to your preparation pleasantly tingled your nostrils. You remembered how, as a little girl, you used to complain that you still had to eat vegetables while your mother sliced them with a smirk on her face: “You can decide on your meal when you grow up, and to grow up, you need to eat vegetables”. At the time, you thought this was the smartest thing a person could say, and it couldn't be further from the truth. Vegetables made you grow and when you grew up, you could choose not to eat them.

You inhaled deeply, savoring the fragrance's journey through your body until it reached your lungs. You almost wanted to hold your breath, letting the aromas mingle and swirl, but perhaps too soon, you exhaled, opening your eyes. How long had it been since you closed them? You weren't sure, but your heart skipped a beat when your gaze fell on the one of an unexpected ape.

“C… Caesar?”

His name falling on your lips was the signal that you had just become aware of his presence. He had watched you lose yourself in your thoughts and chosen to remain on the threshold of your hut, not wishing to disturb your deep reflections, whatever they might be. So he waited for a gesture, a mimic, a simple sign that you had become aware of his presence, before stepping forward.

As he drew closer, a tantalizing scent came wafting up his muzzle, and you couldn't help noticing his nostrils taking in a few breaths of the aroma. In fact, he glanced at your pan placed directly on the small fire, showing you that he had just identified where the smell was coming from.

Caesar plopped down beside you, always sitting so that he could read what was going on in your eyes. He often made the excuse that this way, you could more easily see and learn the words he was signing to you, which was true, but secretly, he enjoyed being able to study the slightest expression that ventured across your face.

And you were obviously entitled to a surprise quiz on your knowledge of sign language.

Caesar took care to sign slowly, stopping when he saw a doubt creeping into your eyes, sometimes repeating the sign that was obviously causing you difficulty in understanding, until you were able to correctly state the question he had just asked you, not without a touch of pride at your success.

“ You're not eating with the colony?”

You think for a moment, looking at your hands to try to find the right gestures.

“ Want to spend some time… ”

And when you couldn't find the right word, you said it out loud again.

“Alone.” You finished, silently asking him about the right sign for this word.

He looked at you for a moment, taking in your answer, before giving you the sign for the word “ alone ”. You repeated it to memorize it, and Caesar simply nodded when you signed it correctly. A comfortable silence settled between you and he glanced once more at the vegetables simmering quietly. The delicate sound of crackling food blended perfectly with the crackling of wood being devoured by flames.

You weren't done adding the last ingredients, and you took Caesar's silence as a signal that he wouldn't be asking anything more from you right now, so you set about crumbling the fresh thyme stalks on top of your preparation.

Caesar stared at the vegetables, their sweet aromas tingling his nostrils in waves, and when your hands appeared in his field of vision, he couldn't help but watch your fingers meticulously work around the thyme stems, creating a shower of tiny leaves over your meal. And as the food bubbled, the scent of thyme mingling with the other vegetables wafted up from the pan. For a brief moment, he felt as if a magic trick had been played on him, and his green eyes found their way to yours.

He knew about cooking. He knew that humans cooked every meal they ate, with the exception of a few that could be eaten raw, such as fruit and certain vegetables. He'd seen, and sometimes even tasted, when his humans' backs were turned, some of the meals and cakes they'd left on the table in the living room of his former home. But if he'd seen the finished products, how they were made remained a mystery. Will had never taken the time to show him how he cooked his meals. So there was something… wonderfully intriguing about seeing you at work.

Your gaze was still on the pot, and as you stirred the ingredients with a piece of stick from which you'd peeled the bark, you took a deep breath. Caesar watched your eyelids flutter and close as a smile crept over your face, as if a distant memory had just gently brushed over your mind.

You felt at home, and Caesar could have fallen even deeper in adoration at the serene, contented face you offered him, if he hadn't forced himself to avert his gaze, which he knew was sometimes too intense for you to bear. It was something he took note of mentally when he looked at you intently with the simple aim of learning the core of your entire soul. When his eyes settled on you for a little too long, you had this habit of rolling your shoulders, as if to rid yourself of some invisible tension, a self-conscious smile tacked to your lips, while your arms wrapped tightly around your chest to protect yourself from his inspection.

Caesar decided to keep his gaze on the contents of your pan, figuring it would be easier to suppress the gentle tingling sensation that was creeping traitorously into the pit of his stomach.

“It's… a meal that… my mother used to cook for me.” You spoke fondly, but with a hint of incertitude in your voice.

You didn't talk much about your past, just as Caesar didn't talk much about it either. Hearing you mention a memory that seemed to be cherished in your heart, though not sure it was the right thing to do, had softened the usually serious expression on Caesar's face.

Caesar nodded quietly, accepting your recollection as a gift, a token of trust. Even if these memories were attached to humans and to life before the release of the apes, they were memories that made you who you were today. Not allowing or accepting them would be like not accepting… you. And Caesar was already far beyond that.

You smiled again, your gaze lost in your memories. It was hard for him to understand how a simple scent could take you so far in thought, but after all, it wasn't for him to judge the complex emotions that must have been running through you at that moment.

“The same food?”

Caesar's gruff voice caught your attention, and a hint of joy lit up your face at his sudden interest in your past.

“Not quite.” You replied, still smiling. “I take the peppers off, I don't like them,” you giggled.

He huffed, slightly entertained by what seemed to be hiding a more detailed story you'd shared with your mother and didn't yet want to tell.

The smell was so tempting, it was hard to deny it. He watched you pick up the pot using a thick piece of cloth, so as not to burn yourself, and serve you a portion of food in a bowl. It was then that he caught himself thinking that maybe, some day, you'd agree to share with him this meal that seemed so dear to you.

[geotjwrs]

hold me

Pairings ; Jenna Ortega x Male!Reader

Warning/s ; ANGSTANGSTANGST!!

The soft glow of the setting sun filtered through the curtains, casting a warm light on the walls of the cozy living room. Y/N sat on the couch, his fingers lightly grazing over the pages of a script he was supposed to be learning. His mind, however, was far from the lines in front of him. He glanced over at Jenna, who was busy preparing dinner in the kitchen, her movements graceful and precise.

She caught his eye and smiled, the sight of which warmed his heart despite the cold shadow looming over their lives. He forced a smile back, trying to keep his thoughts from drifting to the harsh reality they were facing.

A month ago, everything had changed. Y/N, the rising star known for his roles in "Stranger Things," "Scream 6," and "Spider-Man: Across the Spider-Verse," had been diagnosed with a rare blood disorder. The prognosis was grim; the treatments hadn't worked. Now, he was left with a few precious months, a fact he hadn't been able to hide from Jenna for long.

They had cried together, fought the despair together, and tried every possible treatment. But the cruel truth remained: their time was running out.

"Hey, dinner's almost ready," Jenna called out, breaking his reverie. Her voice was light, but he could hear the underlying strain.

"Smells amazing," he replied, setting the script aside and rising to join her. He walked into the kitchen, wrapping his arms around her waist from behind, resting his chin on her shoulder. She leaned back into him, her hands still busy chopping vegetables.

"I was thinking," he began, his voice hesitant, "that we should start ticking off items from our bucket list."

Jenna turned in his arms to face him, her eyes searching his. "You mean...?"

"Yeah," he nodded. "Let's not waste another moment. Let's spend these months doing everything we've ever dreamed of."

Her eyes welled up with tears, but she blinked them away quickly. "Okay," she whispered. "Let's do it."

Over the next few weeks, Y/N and Jenna embarked on an adventure of a lifetime. They visited the places they'd always talked about but never had the time to see. From the bustling streets of Tokyo to the serene beaches of the Maldives, they soaked in every moment, every sight, every experience.

In Paris, they danced under the Eiffel Tower, the twinkling lights reflecting in Jenna's eyes as Y/N spun her around. The city of love lived up to its name, and they reveled in each other's presence, forgetting the world around them.

"Remember our first trip to Paris?" Jenna asked one evening as they strolled along the Seine.

"How could I forget?" Y/N replied with a chuckle. "You almost pushed me into the river trying to get that perfect photo."

She laughed, leaning into him. "Best photo we ever took."

In New York, they saw Broadway shows and wandered through Central Park hand in hand, their laughter mingling with the sounds of the city. They visited the Museum of Modern Art, where Jenna marveled at the art while Y/N tried to make sense of it.

"Art is supposed to make you feel something," Jenna explained as they stood before a particularly abstract piece.

"It makes me feel confused," Y/N admitted, making her giggle.

They laughed, they cried, and they held each other through the pain and the joy. Each city, each experience was a treasure, a memory to hold onto when the inevitable came.

On quieter days, they stayed home, cooking together, watching their favorite movies, and simply enjoying each other's company. They talked about the future they would never have, and while it hurt, it also brought them closer.

"Do you remember the first time we cooked together?" Jenna asked one evening as they prepared dinner.

"I remember burning the pasta," Y/N replied with a grin.

"You were so confident," she teased, "and so wrong."

They laughed, their shared memories a comforting reminder of their journey together.

One particularly memorable evening was spent in an Italian vineyard, where they tasted wines, sampled local cheeses, and watched the stars come out in a clear Tuscan sky. They sat on a blanket, Y/N leaning against a tree with Jenna nestled between his legs, her head resting on his chest.

"This is perfect," Jenna whispered, looking up at the stars.

"You're perfect," Y/N replied, kissing the top of her head.

They shared dreams and whispered secrets, their words a blend of joy and sorrow, hope and despair. Every moment was cherished, every second a precious memory in the making.

As the months progressed, Y/N's health declined steadily. There were days when the pain was almost unbearable, but Jenna was always there, her presence a soothing balm. She became adept at administering his medications, learned how to help him through the worst of it, and, most importantly, she never let him feel alone.

In the spring, they returned to their home, deciding to spend the remaining time in familiar surroundings. Their days were filled with love and tenderness, every moment a cherished memory in the making. They talked about their favorite moments, shared stories from their childhoods, and planned small, manageable adventures nearby.

One warm afternoon, Y/N took Jenna to a secluded spot by a lake. They had a picnic, complete with her favorite sandwiches and a bottle of wine they had brought back from Italy. They laughed, reminisced, and watched the sunset together. As the sky turned a deep orange and the stars began to appear, Y/N took Jenna's hand.

"I want you to promise me something," he said softly, his eyes locked onto hers.

"Anything," she replied, her voice trembling.

"When I'm gone, I want you to keep living your life to the fullest. Keep acting, keep shining, and keep spreading joy. You have so much to give, Jenna. Don't let my absence hold you back."

Tears streamed down her face, but she nodded. "I promise," she whispered. "I promise I'll do my best."

The final weeks were the hardest. Y/N's strength waned, and he spent more time in bed, too weak to do much of anything. Jenna remained his constant companion, reading to him, singing to him, and holding him close when the pain became too much.

One night, as a storm raged outside, Y/N woke up gasping for breath. Jenna was by his side in an instant, her heart pounding with fear. She held him, murmuring soothing words, her tears mingling with his.

"Jenna," he whispered, his voice barely audible. "Hold me."

She climbed into the bed beside him, cradling him in her arms. He buried his face in her neck, his breath coming in shallow gasps.

"I love you," he said, his voice growing weaker with each word. "Thank you...for everything."

"I love you too," she replied, her voice breaking. "Always."

Y/N's breathing slowed, and he closed his eyes, a peaceful expression settling on his face. Jenna held him tighter, feeling his heart beat against hers. As the storm outside began to subside, Y/N took his final breath, surrounded by love.

Jenna stayed with him for a long time, her heart shattered yet filled with gratitude for the time they had shared. She kept her promise, continuing to live her life to the fullest, carrying Y/N's love and memory with her always.

In the days that followed, Jenna honored his memory by living as he had asked her to. She continued to act, to bring joy and inspiration to others. And though the pain of losing Y/N never fully left her, she carried his love with her, a beacon of light guiding her through the darkness.

Their story was one of love and loss, of hope and heartbreak. Jenna found solace in the memories they had created, drawing strength from the time they had shared. She often visited the places they had been, feeling his presence beside her, whispering words of encouragement and love.

Years passed, and Jenna's career flourished. She took on roles that challenged her, inspired her, and kept Y/N's spirit alive. Every performance, every success was a tribute to him, a way to honor the promise she had made.

One evening, after a particularly successful premiere, Jenna found herself alone on the balcony of her apartment. The city lights stretched out before her, a sea of twinkling stars in their own right. She looked up at the sky, feeling the familiar ache of loss but also the warmth of his memory.

"You'd be proud of me," she whispered to the stars. "I hope I'm making you proud."

In the quiet of the night, she felt a gentle breeze, as if Y/N was answering her. She closed her eyes, letting the tears fall freely, but this time, they were tears of gratitude, not just sorrow.

Jenna continued to live her life to the fullest, keeping Y/N's memory alive in everything she did. She spoke about him often in interviews, sharing their story with the world. Fans and colleagues alike were moved by her strength, her resilience, and the deep love that had defined their relationship.

"Y/N taught me to live fully, to love deeply, and to never take a single moment for granted," she would say, her voice filled with emotion. "He may not be here physically, but his spirit is with me always."

And so, their story continued, a testament to the power of love, the resilience of the human spirit, and the beauty of living each day as if it were your last. Jenna carried Y/N's love with her, a guiding light in the darkest of times, a reminder that even in the face of inevitable sorrow, there is always hope, always joy, always love.

[aldryrththerainbowheart]

Jason Todd loves to travel to cozy forest cabin getaways with you

🍂 Especially in the middle of autumn/one the cusp of winter. A little strange, considering people usually prefer spring, summer or at least warmer months of autumn. You asked him about it once, he said it's the calmness of the forest that's preparing for winter.

Like everything's falling asleep. Calm, quiet, undisturbed by anything.

🍂 You have one place surrounded by mountains that you book year in advance and visit every year for a week. It's a long wooden hut made of layered logs with stone fireplace and terrace window overlooking nature. Nestled on the high slope right under the mountain, it offers a beautiful view of valley with river curling like a snake through the slopes and acres upon acres of ancient pine trees.

🍂 He makes sure you're stocked with everything you need. Even the things you don't need but he bought them because he knew you liked them. Your favorite coffee, dried fruits and nuts, his favorite beef jerky, soup cans, store bought dough for pizza, fresh buns and cinnamon buns, eggs for morning omelettes, pumkin spice and ingredients for simmer pot (you taught him to drink that pretty quickly).

🍂 It's that calm quiet routine he falls into wih you there that he loves the most. You wake up late, burried under the patterned blankets, to a cold autumn morning with golden-brown leaves falling behind your window. He doesn't want to let you go until you bribe him with fresh coffee. It another half an hour before you get out of bed, either talking or reading your respective books you brought with you. Then and only then, you get out of bed. Usually one makes breakfeast while other gets ready or sits at the dining table. You rarely use that table, usually taking the food either outside on the terrace, the couch or bed.

🍂 Your days are filled with hiking and walks through the wilderness. Each morning greets you with the soft light of dawn as you lace up your hiking boots, ready to explore the outdoors. The air is fresh and crisp, filled with the earthy scents of pine and wildflowers.

As you venture deeper into the wild, you find yourself surrounded by towering trees that sway gently in the breeze. You might encounter babbling brooks that meander through the landscape, their crystal-clear waters shimmering in the sunlight. With every step, you are greeted by the symphony of nature—the cheerful chirping of birds, the rustle of small creatures in the underbrush, and the distant sounds of nature that fill the air with tranquility.

Each hike offers its own unique adventure: sometimes you climb to breathtaking vistas that reveal sprawling valleys below, while other times, you wander through serene glades where wild animals may cross your path. You take the time to pause and appreciate the beauty around you, capturing moments with photographs or simply soaking in the sights and sounds.

In the evenings, as the sun sets and casts a warm glow across the horizon, you reflect on the day’s explorations, feeling a deep sense of gratitude for the connection you have with nature. Whether trekking through rugged mountain terrain or strolling along peaceful forest paths.

🍂 Unlike eating times, your walks are usually filled with peacefull silence, disturbed only by the sounds of rustling leaves, crunching of branches under your feet or animals. Speak of which, you were pretty nervous when you encountered bear or moose, but Jason assured you that as long as you don't bother them, they won't bother you. You didn't know that wolves are so much bigger that a dog until a pack of them was chilling early in the morning around your cabin.

🍂 You make sure to bring your beaten-down old camera on these trips. Because some of these breathtaking sights cannot be captured by a phone. You have tons of them with beautiful sighs of nature, that one time you decided to go up the mountain slope, and the little fox family you stumbled upon. There's also plenty of pictures of Jason, sometimes taken without his knowledge. It's a rare sight when you manage to see that expression of pure serenity on his face, let alone capture it on the camera. There's one you cherish the most. It was taken when you climbed up the hill to a clearing. The sunlight is still peeking over the mountains and is shining directly on his back. He looks to the side and light illuminates his face perfectly, tracing the lines of his face in light and shadow. Dark strands peek from underneath his beanie and his neck is buriend in the scarf you made him. A fog is rising from his lips and one green eye is cast in sunlight. In the background, a blurried out expanse of forest and mountaintops. A copy of this photo made its way to the Wayne manor.

🍂 In the evenings, you cook dinner together and then either play boardgames or, you guessed it, read some more. Jason always looks forward to cooking dinner with you. You blast music for your portable radio, you mess with each other by throwing bits of food and argue what toppings should or should not go on a pizza. You test out what board games would stand the trial on the game nights with his family and you always end with cards against humanity. Your always at disadvantage when playing Black Stories. It's not your fault you're not detective like someone.

🍂 Out of all activities, your absolute favorite undoubtedly has to be stargazing with Jason. There’s something truly magical about those nights spent together, standing under the open sky, clean of the polution of Gotham city.

In those quiet moments, as you both gaze up at the milions of twinkling lights, you feel a deep sense of peace and connection. The cool night air envelops you, and every sigh, every laugh, and every shared dream feels amplified against the backdrop of shimmering constellations. With Jason by your side, it’s not just about the beauty of the night's sky; it's about the warmth of his presence, the quiet conversations that stretch into the night, and the comfort of knowing that you’re sharing these moments with the person you love most. The stars don’t just fill the sky; they light up your hearts, creating a memories that feels timeless and everlasting.

[22ayla21]

OMG!!! I just discovered your blog, and I'm in love, especially since you write for Honkai Star Rail!! So, I was wondering, for this Event you're doing, can I request an Apple Pie with Cinnamon and Hot Chocolate for Dan Heng? He's my husbando for life and my favorite part of the game!!! I love him so much!! -Dan Hang Waifu Anon

"Apple Pie with Cinnamon and Hot Chocolate"

Event: "Sweet Stories, Intoxicating Feelings"

Immersed in the silence of the Astral Express archives, Dan Heng sat at a massive table, illuminated by the soft glow of a desk lamp. Only the rustling of pages and the quiet scratching of a pen broke the stillness. His usually reserved face now seemed serene.

Soft footsteps, like a quiet melody, echoed in the space, and without lifting his eyes from the book, he already knew who had entered.

She approached, enveloping everything around her in the aroma of fresh apples and cinnamon. In her presence, there was always this warmth, as if her smile held an entire autumn evening with its spicy scents and serenity. In her hands, she held a plate with a pie – her pie, which he secretly considered a symbol of the home he never had.

His love for her felt like this warm apple pie with cinnamon – cozy, homey, filling his heart with a warmth he had long thought lost. Her every movement, every word seemed to melt the ice within him.

She placed the plate in front of him and, kneeling beside him, offered a cup of hot chocolate – thick, rich, brewed by her own hands, as if she had poured her warmth and quiet wishes for his peace into every drop.

Dan Heng carefully took the cup, afraid to break the fragility of the moment. The first sip spread through his body with a soft, enveloping warmth, giving him a sense of protection. His soul, bound by guilt and loneliness, found a quiet haven in her care. His love for her was like this hot chocolate – warming from the inside, giving comfort and a sense of security, as if she had become his invisible armor against the cruelty of the world.

She spoke of small things: new books brought from the last stop, the flowers in the train car's greenhouse, that tomorrow she would bake a pie with honey and nuts. Dan Heng listened to her calm and joyful voice, and in the depths of his long-empty heart, something began to bloom.

He looked at her – so alive, so real, so far from the shadows of his past. She didn't demand revelations, didn't ask him to remember the nights in the House of Sandalwood, the long exile, the pain of betrayal. She was simply there – and that was enough.

Sometimes at night, when the archives emptied and the starry ocean stretched beyond the windows, Dan Heng allowed himself to hold her closer. He felt her head rest on his shoulder, her breathing beside him becoming even. And in such moments, the thought visited him: could the sin of the past forever deprive him of the right to happiness?

He had accepted his fate: the bearer of horns, the heir of the Imbibitor Lunae. He knew he couldn't run from himself. But beside her, he no longer wanted to run. He wanted to stay, to build something new, despite the ruins in his heart.

Love did not demand forgetting the past. It merely quietly reminded him that he was more than the sum of his mistakes, that he deserved love, just as every rain deserved to wash the earth, regardless of past storms.

She reached for him, like a star in the night, and he, at first timidly, then more confidently, answered that call.

Sometimes, waking up earlier, he would look at her, and in his eyes, a soft tenderness was reflected, rare and almost sacred for someone like him. He would cover her with the blanket and whisper with his lips alone a promise to protect her always, in a way no one had ever protected him.

Her love was something unimaginable for him: a warm apple pie with cinnamon in a house where the light always burned, and a cup of hot chocolate in his hands when the cosmos raged outside the windows.

She became a reminder that a broken heart could beat again. For her sake, he was ready to become better, ready to learn to live, not just survive.

And in that moment, in the silence of the archives, beside her, in the aroma of apples and chocolate, among books, stars, and hope, Dan Heng finally allowed himself to believe:

He was not alone.

He was loved.

And he deserved to love in return.

[yenonnoff]

TEACH ME HOW TO LOVE! 16. me, you, and a beautiful sunset

note: the word count is 5.7k LMAO

while you paid for your albums, atsumu waited outside the record store. his gaze promptly shifted from the bag resting at his side to his co-star through the large vibrant windows. he caught sight of you giggling with the cashier, a soft smile adorning your features. 

as you left, your unoccupied hand rose up to shield your eyes from the gleaming sun. the array of radiant colors ranging from red to pink was breathtaking, even more so if you could get a better view.

glancing to your right, you were immediately stunned by the way sunlight painted atsumu’s clothes a yellowish, orange hue. you hesitantly traced along the outline of his sharp nose, along his delicate lips that had curled into a loose smile. you couldn’t help but stare, drawn to the way his eyes looked so serene.

breaking from your short trance, you spoke, “have you been here a lot?” 

you hoped he didn’t notice how silly your question was. of course he’s visited this place numerous times before. he’d managed to babble about his favorite albums and records for two hours straight. and when you asked about a specific artist, he had dragged you to the precise location with seamless familiarity that had you questioning if he’s lived there before.

it was a futile question but one you needed to ask. if you didn’t, you feared you would’ve been lost in the blond’s dark brown eyes. 

atsumu tilted his head toward you and spoke in a casual manner, “more than a lot. at this point, i’m probably their favorite customer.” a joke probably, but one you smiled at. 

“you’re the second person i’ve come here with," he said. "the first was—” atsumu paused abruptly.

you stared at him, waiting for him to continue. “the first person?” 

“no one important,” he affirmed, frowning. 

his response was quick and brief, almost as if he had a defense mechanism installed to combat this exact topic. your lips formed a tight line, you were feeling a sense of deja vu.

if there was a reason behind his dismissal, then you wouldn’t pry. though the urge to get on his nerves was irresistibly strong. 

still, the curiosity didn’t fade. considering how he’d only brought along two people so far, the first person must've been important. you paused abruptly. could the person have been his ex-girlfriend?

lost in your thoughts, you attempted to remember the conversation you had with kenma the day before. he’d mention the possibility of atsumu’s ex-girlfriend being the root of his detest towards you. if that were really the case, then this was wrong. 

extremely wrong. 

accompanied by sweaty palms was an uncomfortable sensation. you felt a thick knot form in your throat, the lunch you had earlier swirling in your stomach. you hardly registered atsumu speaking to you. when he started walking ahead, you followed absentmindedly behind until you felt a tug on your wrist. 

gazing upwards, you met atsumu’s piercing eyes and his usual unfazed expression. 

“you shouldn’t walk while looking down. we’re about to cross the street,” was the only thing he said before releasing his grip. 

afterwards, he stole a quick glance at his watch and continued to walk towards the crosswalk. he didn’t even let you register the moment. you stood there dumbfounded and reeling at his unexpected gesture. you could still feel it: the place where his palm had rested and the warmth that accompanied it.

quickening your pace until you was walking behind him, you asked, “where are we going?” 

“to get a better view of the sunset. you wanted to see it, right?” 

you stared at him, perplexed.

sensing your burning stare, atsumu explained, “you kept looking outside while we were in the store. you kept checking the time on your phone as well.” 

you remained silent as he spoke, attempting to recount your behavior from a couple hours ago. 

when the two of you reached the crosswalk, he turned to face you, smirking lazily as he took in your confusion. 

“don’t tell me you were just eager to leave?” he questioned blithely. 

you peered at him, unamused but slightly surprised. the unsettling sensation from before resurfaced and you felt yourself reaching for the place where he had grabbed your arm. 

“not earlier, but now i kind of do.” 

you'd said it in a meek whisper, yet you saw atsumu’s jaw clench, his shoulders tensing. you cursed silently to yourself.

this was unprofessional. while your co-star may struggle to leave his personal feelings out of his work life, you were different. the world would have to end before you allowed them to interfere. it was a vehement promise you'd made to yourself a long time ago and you weren't planning on breaking it any time soon. 

they were only coworkers—nothing more, nothing less. 

atsumu scoffed, a deft hand running through his blond hair. you had braced for his usual taunting replies but they never came. though his vexation was excruciatingly clear.

you attempted to change the subject. “you knew i wanted to see the sunset based on just that?” 

“don’t think too much about it, i just thought you’d like to see the sunset better.” he crossed his arms and continued, “you took lots of pictures of the sunset while we were at the amusement park that one time.” 

“oh, i see.” 

it was all you could say in response. when did he notice all those things about you?

a painful silence shifted between the two of you. you quickly grew grateful for the many cars that passed by. if it weren’t for the sound of pleasant gaiety that could be heard on the beach, the unbearable awkwardness would’ve suffocated you. 

after you finally crossed the street, the reminder of what your relationship was became more apparent. walking ahead was atsumu miya—your famous and successful co-star—and strolling six steps behind was you—his co-star, and the one he finds patently insufferable. 

“it’s beautiful," you whispered. 

the sight in front of you was one to die for. red and pink hues blended together in the sky, swirling around as if they were locked in an entrancing dance. they set the perfect stage for the shimmering sun to lower itself in preparation for the dusky night sky. to say that you were mesmerized would be an understatement; the lulling sound of waves washing onto the shore and the lively chatter of those relaxing on the beach drew you in, taking your breath away. 

had you not been so enthralled, you would’ve caught atsumu smiling knowingly at you. 

“it’s amazing, isn’t it?” he asked. “it’s the reason why i come here on my days off. it’s quiet and the people here mind their own business.”

drawing away from the sunset, you felt an ache in your arm from holding your album-filled bag for so long. you hadn't expected to buy so much, at least not a bag full of them.

you sighed with relief upon switching it to your other hand. “i didn’t know you liked listening to music so much. you gave me more than a couple recommendations.”

atsumu smiled, “you say that, but you still bought all of them.” 

you briefly stared at him before glancing at the bag he held comfortably by his side. you could’ve said the same for him too. atsumu had bought all of your favorite albums in a heartbeat and he appeared extremely pleased with himself while doing so. it was unusual—during the entire time there, he’d looked as happy as an excited child buying candy. 

after all the time you've spent together on your spontaneous meetups, you thought you'd gotten used to his many dynamic demeanors. who knew he was hiding such an exuberant and lighthearted smile among his usual distasteful ones? 

no, that wasn’t right. he just never revealed it to you before. however, today was different—he was different. 

when you'd witnessed his blissful expression, you could hardly recognize your usually insouciant co-star. though it was frustrating, you couldn’t deny that his elation wasn’t contagious. his wide grins had encouraged your lips to move upwards, a faint blush reluctantly creeping onto your cheeks. 

snapping out of your thoughts, you asked, “how did you find this place?” 

atsumu tucked a hand into his pocket, his head lowering in contemplation. “when i moved to tokyo for university. guess it was just luck, i’ve been coming back here ever since.” 

when he finished, he smiled softly, his eyes full of nostalgia. 

he’d looked so serene that you couldn’t help yourself. for a moment, you'd felt special that he brought you to a place of such importance—a place where he’d spent most of his university days gazing at music. you could imagine it: atsumu miya strolling along the shore with his feet covered in sand after spending the afternoon at his favorite record store. at the thought of that, you felt a warm sensation swirling in your stomach. 

but how could you have forgotten? 

they were standing exactly like this on that day as well, on the day when he’d raised his voice at you, spitting venom in your face so viciously—so seamlessly—as if it were a hidden talent of his. 

you wouldn’t get your hopes up, not when he has yet to give you a proper apology. you pondered for a moment, questioning if now was the right time to bring it up. after nightfall, you two will go your separate ways and forget about everything that’s transpired. then you'll see one another again at the scheduled script read-through, the same invisible wall tainted with your unsightly first impression of each other, still separating you.

if now wasn’t a good time to confront him, then when was? 

swallowing hard, you peered at him with parted lips. the words were on the tip of your tongue, but could you bring yourself to say it? was it worth it to shatter his placidity in an attempt to rebuild yours? 

yes.

yes, it was.

“miya, why did you take me here?” you asked without breaking eye contact. 

he raised a puzzled brow at your sudden question. “i guess i just wanted to. why? don't like it here?” 

“no, i do… but you’re confusing me. you 're showing me such a special place even though you hate me.” 

silence cut through the thick atmosphere as your words hung loosely in the air. atsumu’s eyes wandered aimlessly as he shifted uncomfortably from one leg to the other. 

with knitted brows, you tightened your hold on the bag’s handle. you pushed further. “i never asked you, did i? this whole time you’ve had me running in circles with the way you’ve been acting, but i should’ve just asked you directly.” 

you waited to see if he would react. when he didn’t, your frown deepened and your heart sank unexpectedly. not a single word or sound left his lips—he didn’t even spare you a glance. 

“why do you hate me?” you urged. “you grimace at thought of spending time together, you act like i’m an insect walking on two legs.” 

your voice was heavy and dry. the dam that was suppressing your anger had shattered and what came was a wave of unswerving rancor. you concluded that your benignity's had enough. despite the relief you felt, it was far too soon to celebrate. 

swiftly turning to face you, atsumu—with an irked gaze and tensed shoulders—said sternly, “it’s not like that.”

“what is it then?”

your eyes pleaded for him to respond, but atsumu remained silent. he was in deep contemplation, his mind racing with a million thoughts. he needed to present his truth—whatever it might be—in the right way, lest allow the gravity of the situation (and your hatred toward him) to drastically worsen.  

while he pondered, you had already come to your conclusion. you stared at him incredulously and inquired, “don’t tell me it's because of what happened at the photoshoot?” you scoffed. “is this ridiculous situation all because of my poor performance that one time?” 

atsumu was too slow to respond and the thing he feared most had already happened. he ran a hand across his face, his winced expression telling you everything. 

“wow,” you snide. “you really are amazing. so amazing that you should win an award for most stubborn man ever. if what i said is true then you’re just another asshole, atsumu.” 

it was your first time referring to him as just “atsumu.” and unexpectedly, you preferred it better. before, you'd always addressed him with his last name, a gesture of respect for his status and accomplishments in the industry. but now, the admiration was gone and replaced with overt disdain.

screw professionalism. how could anyone remain formal during such extreme circumstances? 

atsumu’s lips thinned and he glowered. “don’t jump to conclusions.”

“so it was because of it.”

“no, it wasn’t,” he countered. 

“don’t deny it, atsumu. it’s written all over your face. you look fucking guilty.” 

you took a staggering step back in disbelief. why were you still standing here in the presence of such an irritating man? the whole situation was pointless, completely unbelievable. you'd already apologized for that day—hell you even redeemed yourself on the second photoshoot—yet he was still stuck on it. 

atsumu reached for your wrist, pulling you slightly toward him. this time, his grasp was forceful and harsh. you missed his tender gazes and warm gestures; you wondered if you'll ever see them again. 

“listen to me, would ya? i’m not completely stupid. i didn’t act the way i did just because of what happened at the photoshoot.” 

you retorted quietly, “liar. there’s another part to this isn’t there?” 

“you’re not listening to me, y/n.” 

“something else played a role in this, am i right?” 

atsumu hesitated, his eyes furrowed in thought. for such a highly rated actor, he was awful at concealing his body language. 

“it’s not important,” he finally said, loosening his grip on your wrist. “i’ll apologize for how i acted and what i said to you the other day.” 

he looked at you with limpid eyes, his lips curling upwards in a persuasive way. you weren't going to fall for it. he apologized but you still felt empty and unfulfilled. more than anything, you wanted to wipe off the complacent gaze behind his eyes—the look that conveyed the message “are you happy now?”

“i don’t want it,” you stated. 

“what?” 

“i said i don’t want your apology. how can i forgive you when i don’t even know why you acted the way you did. i deserve to know.” 

atsumu froze, thin lines forming between his eyebrows. his erratic attitudes and sudden friendliness had produced a mountain of questions that he swept under the rug. it's become a big messy pile and the two of you could no longer ignore the issue that’s been created. 

rubbing his temples squarely, he confessed, “you just reminded me of someone. but like i’ve said, it’s unimportant.” 

you felt your fingernails dig vengefully into your palm. how could he say that? it was important to you. for the past couple weeks, you've wasted hours recalling your moments together, attempting to piece a solution that’ll hopefully salvage your strained relationship. you pondered endlessly, only to find out that you weren't the direct cause—that someone else was. 

someone “unimportant.” 

you already knew who it was but his willingness to tell you along with a thorough explanation would’ve been greatly appreciated. he was making a fool of you, and you wouldn’t stand for it. you really were just fighting a pointless battle. and worst of all, your opponent appeared to be an uncooperative and insensitive brick wall.

“atsumu, i don’t know you, and you certainly don’t know me. this person and i are not similar. you have no right to treat me that way.” 

you attempted to retract away from his grasp but he was determined not to let go. his hand slid downwards until he was gently holding onto your fingers.  

“i know that,” he said. “i confirmed it today. you aren’t like her, you never were.” 

you couldn’t face him. memories of your previous encounters flooded your mind and the inside of your mouth turned bitterly sour. 

“listen, i’m sorry, y/n.” 

you didn’t need to hear his words to know of his quilt, there were other evident indicators of it. for example, the way his hand ran across his face or the featheriness in his grip on your hand. even without those subtle signs, a single look into his eyes was more than enough to tell. 

“you should be,” you muttered. 

atsumu squeezed your hand. “how i acted towards you was wrong and you were hurt. i'm sorry, i went too far. i’ll go along with any decisions you want to make in regards to the film.” 

the sounds of crashing waves rang louder and the people’s laughter on the beach lacked its pleasant charm from before. 

his words were soothing to your ears. in front of you no longer stood the imperious man that had insulted you; he was replaced by someone warm, someone who traced circles on your hand with his thumb. 

atsumu released your hand and checked his watch. the sun had already disappeared, and the sky transitioned from vibrant hues to somber shades of dark blue. you watched the lamp posts along the sidewalk light up enthusiastically as hoards of people started leaving the beach. 

you trailed the way the lamp posts, with its golden glow, dissolved into tiny blinding dots of light off into the distance. the waves had calmed, and the rhythmic sound of it against the shore mesmerized you like a sailor to a siren’s song. 

your co-star turned to face you. “should we get going? i can call an uber for you.” 

you shook your head, “i want to stay a bit longer. the night view's beautiful.” 

as an ocean breeze caressed you, you stared delightfully at the dark waves. your fingers were stiff from the cold air and you pulled your jacket closer to your body. 

atsumu had no interest in the waves, setting his gaze fixed on you. 

“y’know i meant it when i said you weren’t anything like her.” 

his voice was deep as if he was buried in a chamber of thoughts. his hands were burrowed in his pockets and he leaned nervously against the railing. he scrutinized you for any reaction but you only hummed in response. 

continuing to watch the tides move frantically back and forth, a smile hung loosely on your face. for a moment atsumu wondered what was so amazing about them that had you completely bewitched. 

you did know that atsumu's feelings were genuine. still, you appreciated the validation. maybe that was what atsumu needed too: clarification that they were okay. was this your cue to go back to your professional self again? back to being coworkers who walk six steps behind one another?

the fleeting moment of the heated confrontation had ended as quickly as it began. but before that, you needed to clear a plaguing thought in your mind. you needed one more confirmation. 

you turned to face him, disregarding the frenzied wind and chilly atmosphere.

“can i ask you something, atsumu?” he nodded and you continued, “during our time together—at the amusement park and earlier today at the record store—you looked like you were enjoying yourself. was it all an act?” 

“no, it wasn’t,” he answered firmly.

if he had to choose, it was probably the easiest thing he had said all day. atsumu thought you had discerned his sincerity, but when he glanced at you, you were quiet and unreadable. 

atsumu, suddenly conscious of your burning gaze on him, absentmindedly adjusted the zipper of his turtleneck. he felt an explanation was needed judging by your silence. 

“i wouldn’t have spent the whole day with you at an amusement park if i wasn’t having fun,” he assured. “you might find it hard to believe, but i do find your presence enjoyable.” 

at his words, a scroll of laughter unfolded from your lips. he had looked so different while explaining himself. the previous atsumu, the one you knew as shameless and bilious, was long gone. now standing in his place was just atsumu. 

crossing his arms across his chest, his signature lazy smirk reappeared on his face. “what’s so funny?” 

“nothing,” you chuckled. “it’s just nice what you said.” 

“see? i guess i’m not so bad after all.” 

you matched his laid-back smile. “not at all.” 

a few feet behind atsumu, you caught a glimpse of a couple surfacing from the beach. in their hands, they held a volleyball and a tied up net. 

atsumu followed your line of sight, glancing over his shoulder to see the couple walking away with their equipment. 

the sight triggered a set of forgotten memories. before becoming a successful actor, atsumu already had other incredible feats. in high school, he was a highly praised volleyball player who earned numerous remarkable titles. he was beyond talented, but perhaps that contributed to his expansive ego and unyielding arrogance. 

“do you play volleyball?” he asked, turning his attention back to her.

“oh, i definitely do not,” you smiled. “but i managed a volleyball club in high school before.” 

his eyes widened with curiosity. “for which school?” 

“karasuno. some of my closest friends were in that club.” 

atsumu felt the corners of lips quirk upwards and his hand came up to rest on his chin. “then you were there when we played against them at nationals.” 

“was i?” 

his hand fell and he raised a brow in bemusement. mischief shone pleasantly in your eyes. “wait, i remember now. i was there.” 

“oh good,” he remarked sarcastically. “i was going to ask if you needed help jogging your memories.”

“can you blame me? didn’t you guys lose to us when you were a second year?” 

he sneered, straightening his back. you continued to beam mirthfully at him but he remained silent. this was new to him—he wasn’t aware you had such an impish side to you. 

“instead of who won or lost, we should focus on how well i played,” he responded.

“‘well’?” you repeated with feigned surprise. “i don’t recall anything like that. were you really skilled?” 

if it were anyone else, atsumu was sure a throbbing vein would’ve surfaced by now on his forehead. but he was amused by you. when were you such a teaser? you were beating him at his own game, yet he didn’t mind it. 

“you’re such a liar,” he said quietly. “did no one tell you that if you don’t have anything nice to say, don’t say anything at all?”

you crossed her arms. “you’re the biggest hypocrite ever.”

“at least i’m a smart hypocrite. you’re a terrible liar.” 

“you’re contradicting yourself by saying you’re clever at being hypocritical!” you huffed. 

he matched your volume, dismissing the fact that the two of you were drawing attention to yourselves. 

“what does that even mean? and stop using such big words!” he exclaimed. 

you raised an accusative finger, nudging his shoulder with it. “maybe if you didn’t spend all your time at the record store you would’ve paid attention to your professors’ lessons.” 

“hey!” he retorted. “i did pay attention.” 

you rolled your eyes and stared at him, unimpressed. his gaze narrowed and he said, “you don’t seem convinced.” 

“of course not.” 

when atsumu rubbed the bridge of his nose in an exasperated manner, you only smiled. you were enjoying yourself—maybe a bit more than you should be. it wasn’t everyday that you get to tease the atsumu miya. 

stuffing your hands into your pockets, you mused, “does that mean i win?” 

“this was a competition the whole time?” 

“it always was.” 

atsumu raked a hand through his blond hair. he motioned it backwards with charm and you cringed out of habit. 

“what—do i owe you a drink now?” 

your face brightened and you hummed in consideration. 

your co-star smirked mischievously. “how about an iced coffee in this forty degree weather? it’s the perfect time of the day to have one.” 

“you’re ridiculous,” you smiled. “but i’ll take you up on your offer the next time we see each other.” 

you spun on your heel, cautious not to touch the cold railing. you looked at the lambent moon in the sky before glancing to the sand on the shore. the beach was vast, perhaps trailing on for miles on end. it was the perfect spot for a relaxing excursion. few cars drove by and for the most part the area was clean and tidy. the water was crystal clear and the sunset was breathtakingly beautiful. no wonder atsumu liked this place so much. 

but more importantly, the sand was powdery and flat. you were confident it would feel as if you were walking on clouds. your friends would love this place, you thought. perhaps they could play beach volleyball or even stroll along the shore. 

you glanced at atsumu over your shoulder. “does the beach get crowded often? i want to play volleyball with my friends here.” 

his eyes darted to the beach. “it does. i come here with my friends to play volleyball too, but it’s always packed with people.” 

he watched as you frowned, whispering a disappointed “oh.” atsumu cleared his throat harshly, rubbing the back of his neck. 

“you could always go early in the morning,” he said suddenly. “there are some areas that people tend to gravitate to”—he took a step forward until he was right next to you; with an extended arm, he pointed to the distance on your left—“like over there for example.” 

you nodded attentively, insisting he continued with a single glance. 

“on the other hand, people don’t crowd here by the record store as much,” he concluded with a faint smile. 

“thank you, atsumu,” you peered upwards with gleeful sparks in your eyes. for the most part you were surprised at his willingness to give you such sacred advice. you wondered how many he had to visit this place to gather such information. his words ignited a warm, tingling sensation in your stomach—enough to keep you distracted from the cold. 

“i’ll make sure to remember it the next time i come here.” 

“oh, looks like i have more competition,” he groaned, concealing his face with a palm. whether he was cursing you under his breath or hiding a smile, only atsumu would know. 

you closed the gap between one another, stepping until your shoulders were touching. you felt the warmth of his body seep through the fabric of your clothes, easing your body as you sighed with relief. 

atsumu leaned into learned comfort without an ounce of hesitation. of course these sort of things came natural to him. he wasn’t surprised at the act of intimacy, but more at who had initiated it. 

“what’s wrong?” he asked teasingly, a jocular smile displayed on his face. 

“the weather,” you replied plainly. “it’s freezing cold out here.” 

“you hated me a couple moments ago but now you’re using me as a heat pad? you’re very funny, y/n.” 

you nudged him slightly with your elbow. “stop exaggerating, our shoulders are just touching.”

“if you say so,” he hummed. 

for a moment, a silence passed between them as the moon continued to slumber soundlessly. 

the night had deepened greatly until the sky lost any trace of color, turning a bewitching dark black. 

your eyes grew distant as you stared straight ahead into the sea. “you should teach me volleyball sometimes,” you said absently. 

you'd only half meant what you said, after all, you weren't even sure what time it was—the two had lost track of it completely. when did a simple rendezvous turn into stargazing and pleasant banter? 

atsumu tilted his head at your remark. “and this is coming from the person that insulted my volleyball skills?” 

“forget about what i said then. please teach me, mr. formerly-known-as-japan’s-best-high-school-setter.” you clapped your hands together with a persuasive smile. 

he placed a hand on his hip, smiling at the current situation. “i’ll think about it.” 

“i said all that only for you to keep it in the back of your mind and forget about it?” 

“good things take time,” he merely said. “but i’m picky, so are you sure you can live up to my expectations?” you raised a brow as if he’d just replied in a different language. “of course i can. i’ll be the best student you ever had.” 

“so i won’t have to worry about you complaining that it’s too hard?” 

“not really, unless—“ as you said that, the phone in your pocket lit up distractingly. you heard a buzz and swiftly reached inside to retrieve the device. the bright glow illuminated your facial features as you swiped through the many forgotten notifications on your screen. 

there were phone calls from kuroo and kenma respectively, but the most recent one had been a text message from the latter. they were here, and patiently waiting for you nearby. you glanced around the area until you spotted a black car stationed underneath a lamppost—kenma’s black car. it was resting just across the street by the record store… looking extremely conspicuous. 

“is something wrong?” 

atsumu’s voice broke through you thoughts and you attempted a smile. “it’s nothing, my friends are just here to pick me up.” 

when you finished typing a quick reply, you peered upwards, catching a glimpse of atsumu’s eyes narrowing in disappointment. 

“is that so?” he said, reaching for his phone. “i should probably call an uber then.” 

you waited in the chilly silence for him to finish his phone call. the meetup was finally coming to an end. how long have the two stayed in each other’s presence anyway? regardless of how many hours, to you, it had felt undeniably short. 

atsumu glanced away from his phone, saying, “you should head to the car, aren’t you freezing cold?” 

you shook your head momentarily. you'd forgotten about the cold a long time ago. 

“it’s tolerable. are you?” 

“i’m dying out here,” he replied dramatically. 

“well, let’s hope your ride gets here quickly. we wouldn’t want you to die from hypothermia, would we?” 

atsumu hummed in agreement. he turned to gaze at something but you weren't paying attention to what it was. you were occupied in your own thoughts, and for a moment, you felt silly wondering how they would act when they saw each other again. would today be the last time they met up outside of filming? 

a wave of uncertainty washed over you and you called out hastily, “atsumu, listen.” 

he tilted his head, his brown eyes staring into yours. his gaze was soft and unreadable, prompting you to ponder what kind of thoughts were circling inside in his mind right now. you couldn’t believe that he was the same man that berated you yet willingly spent an entire evening riding roller coasters with you. 

you didn’t want your time together to end just yet. there were so many things left to say, but they twisted and turned inside your throat until a stubborn knot had formed. 

“it’s nothing,” you said with a whisper. 

as if on cue, an uber stopped in front of them and you cursed quietly to yourself. you had lost your chance. 

“looks like my ride’s here,” atsumu commented dismissively. when you didn’t react, he frowned and gave your shoulder an impatient tap. “y/n i should get going now.” 

your head instantly shot up as if someone had stepped on your tail. whether it was the cold that restrained you from speaking or your conscience, you weren't sure. 

when atsumu turned to reach for the car handle, you abruptly grabbed hold of his sleeve. he peered over his shoulder and raised a befuddled brow. 

“what is it?” 

fuck. you wasn’t thinking! well, whatever it was now or never, right? this mindset was going to land you in a sticky situation one day. scratch that—it already did. 

“atsumu, wait—listen. let me repay you for today,” you said urgently. “you showed me such a nice place, it wouldn’t be fair if i didn’t take you somewhere too.” 

he twisted his body to fully face you. “you don’t have to. I did this because i wanted to.” 

“i insist. i want to take you somewhere.” 

atsumu rubbed the back of his neck, unsure of how to respond. 

“then i‘ll think about it.” when he said that, he received a disapproving frown from y/n and quickly reiterated, “i’ll look at my schedule and message you. don’t worry, i won’t forget.” 

you hated the way a smile briskly shone on your face. his words weren’t even a direct confirmation, yet you still felt jittery. an unexplainable tingling sensation ran through your fingertips and you let his sleeve go. 

“then thank you for today,” was all you said and the two of you went your separate ways.

as you walked to the lone black car under the lamppost, you wondered if your action had been reckless and unprofessional. you'd poured your feelings out to him and he gave you a sincere response. it was over: the strife that had lasted longer than it should’ve. your impulsive suggestion to spend time with one another was no longer necessary, yet here they were promising one another an indefinite rendezvous. 

but maybe this was a good thing. if the two of you could establish a space of gaiety and escape from your confiding image as actors, why wouldn’t you? 

sitting in the backseat of your friend’s car, the last thing atsumu said to you replayed in your mind: “see you later, y/n.”

masterlist ⌒☆ previous ⌒☆ next

fun facts:

atsumu has a picture of the beach at night set as his lockscreen. (reference chapter 7).

whenever atsumu and the others go to play beach volleyball, they have a competition to decide who pays for lunch. oftentimes they'll just end up deciding through rock paper scissors, and somehow, atsumu always manages to lose.

when y/n got into the car, kuroo was sulking because atsumu's uber had blocked their view. they were trying to use their iphone camera to zoom onto the conversation. (it failed miserably).

TEACH ME HOW TO LOVE! ｡ｏ♡ an atsumu miya smau

synopsis: when y/n l/n, a rising actress, decides to star in a romance film that could make or break her career, she’s unable to showcase her skills, revealing her inexperience within the romance department instead. worst of all, atsumu miya, her co-star and the main lead’s love interest, seems to hate her guts! with absolutely, unbearably zero chemistry between the two, an idea was proposed: spend time with one another in the upcoming weeks. will y/n be able to ignore her professionalism and listen to her heart? and will she, a clueless romantic, be able to pick up on the signs her co-star is sending her?

a/n: can u guys see why it took me a month to write this thing? i hope u guys enjoyed it bc i poured my blood sweat and tears into this thing 5.7k word is actually crazy but thank u if u made it to the end !! i feel like in a month ill look back on this and regret everything

taglist is open! dm or ask to be a part of it! (those bolded were unable to be tagged)

⌒☆ @kqbukimono @empathum @clyver @chosoluv @oceansfloor @sunarots @marga-j @rukia-uchiha-98 @wyrcan @thechaosoflonging @rintarousgirl @ast4rg1rl @seiamor @saiewithakatana @usermins @literally-a-ferret @terrarain @iuspired @haruskatana @wolffmaiden @ris-krispie @vellichxrr6782 @animenaces-world @reignsaway @emii4evr @writing-for-the-hell-of-it @yuminako @tojirin @v3nusplanetofluv @vyvixen @secondary-character-25 @tenjikusstuff4 @444sunarin

[shroudkeeper]

What are their favorite things to do together?

ship questions!

Thank you so much for asking this! In truth, it may sound rather rudimentary to say this, but everything!

From just spending quiet moments together under the boughs of a newly blossomed tree in spring for a ceremony, to huddling together before a roaring hearth when winter descends upon the land, there is nothing else than simply enjoying moments of their lives doing things that bring them a sense of normalcy, because if you know, Kikyo doesn't quite fit the mold of normal.

Finding joy in even the most mundane things and some that have allowed personal growth to blossom for both of them.

Hancock has enjoyed the art and ritual that is part of the tea ceremony she hosts for him, introduced to him previously by her father, Fusanosuke. It made him appreciate being in the moment with her and the respect that is not only shown to the tools, and tea she presents, the beauty of the art, and the sense of serenity it invokes.

One of Kikyo's favorite things to do with him is visit the children at the school. There is something rather endearing about seeing someone, who is known to make shrewd business deals, try to work around offering them bribes ( in the form of wagashi and flowers ) in order to prove his worth. Though it is all good fun for everyone involved; he enjoys preparing the gifts for the children and takes his time selecting seasonal confectionary for them.

But together, they found a newfound love for travel and plunging into new adventures, hand in hand. Whether visiting the cities of Eorzea, where he can play the tour guide, or reach lands that offer an opportunity to learn about new cultures, it is always wonderful to share the experience with each other.

[kokinu09]

The Way Home

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5

Masterlist

A/N : This always seems to be my go-to for trying to get in a groove ❤️‍🩹

💥TW : Lost friend, bad news call, that’s about it

word count: 1013

~*~

The call to his parents had been…scary. He was hoping that Felix may have called them and he jumped on the first flight back to Australia. But his hopes were quickly crushed when his mother’s happy voice greeted him and asked if her baby was with him to say hello.

His heart dropped to the pit of his stomach when he had to lie so as not to worry her, claiming Felix asked him to call and assure her that things were going great over here for him. He made sure to get off that call as fast as possible. Not wanting to lie any more than he already had. Or worse, slip about her son having gone missing for almost 24 hours.

He checks his phone again. He’s lost count of how many times it’s been even just since he broke off from the others. They’ve decided the best course of action is to divide and conquer. Jeongin stayed in one dorm while Hyunjin stayed in the other, just in case Felix came back on his own.

The rest of them split up into groups in an attempt to cover more ground. Changbin and Seungmin were heading to Felix's favorite game store. A hole-in-the-wall place with a game room in the back where the owner lets kids play throughout the day. While Minho and Han went to scope out the park where Felix goes to unwind when he gets stressed. A serene spot where he could meditate or blow off some steam with some taekwondo moves. All the while Chan checks the local bakery Felix frequents, notorious for his sweet tooth. The elderly woman who owns the place adores their sunshine so much that he would score free goodies at almost every visit.

A whiff of the various sweets in the shop hits him as soon as he opens the front door. A reminiscent feeling from all the times Felix brought a box of goodies to the dorms pings in his chest. He hopes they find him soon. The worry will consume him alive if they don’t.

“Annyeong haseyo!” A voice calls from behind the counter. Chan looks up to find the owner smiling at him as she slides another cookie sheet into the display.

“Annyeong haseyo,” he returns the greeting with a small bow as he hurries closer.

“You look like you’re in a rush young man!” The older woman teases.

“I guess I am,” Chan let out a halfhearted chuckle. “I was hoping my friend had been here? Maybe in the last couple of days?”

“Hm, if they have, who knows if I would remember them,” she muses.

“I’m sure you’d remember him,” Chan says humorously. “He comes in here all the time. It’s Felix. Has he stopped by lately?”

The lady’s eyes blink a few times in surprise before her features light up. “You’re a friend of Felix’s?! Oh, he is such a sweet boy,” she sang the boy’s praises, shuffling to get a box and grabbing an assortment of goodies for him. “He hasn’t been in since at least last week.”

Chan’s hopes drop again at the news. “Oh.”

She stops at his disheartened tone, looking at him with a wrinkled brow. “Why? Is there something wrong?”

He stiffens, quickly plastering on a fake smile to soothe any worries he may have accidentally caused. “No! Everything’s fine! I just haven’t—”

The excuse dies in his throat as it is cut short by his phone’s ringtone. He jumps in surprise and frantically digs in his pocket. “I don’t mean to be rude. I really have to take this. I’m sorry,” he apologized. The woman waves him off with a smile as he backs away towards the door.

He finally manages to dig his phone out by the time his feet hit the sidewalk. His heart sank when an unknown number filled his screen. The hope that one of the others had found him evaporating quicker than it could bloom in his chest. With a frustrated sigh, he swipes to answer.

“Yeoboseyo?”

“Is this Mr. Bang Chan?” The woman on the other end asks. His brow knits in confusion.

“Yes? May I ask who’s calling?”

“This is the Central Seoul Medical Hospital. We have a patient who requested we contact his brother to pick him up upon release.” Chan’s heart nearly stops as he hangs on this woman’s every word. “Are you the brother of L e e F e l i x?”

The air is punched from his lungs as his name filters through the phone speaker. The world feels like it stops spinning as the ringing in his ears intensifies. His eyes are wide and wild with fear and his knees feel like jello under his weight but he manages to stay upright, somehow, as the world starts to right itself.

“—seyo? Mr. Bang, are you still there?”

“Yes! Yes, sorry. I’m Lee Felix’s brother, yes. Is he ok? What happened?” He asks desperately.

“Don’t worry, your brother will be fine. Some good samaritans found him unconscious in the woods. He was dehydrated from the amount of alcohol consumption he had done last night but he has regained consciousness and we are giving him fluids.” The woman informs him dutifully.

“Oh thank god,” Chan sighs heavily as he’s already rushing away from the door of the cafe.

“Yes, he’s a lucky boy. Can we expect you to pick him up for discharge?” She finally asks, clearly ready to be off this phone call.

“Of course! I’m on my way now. Thank you,” Chan says, not wasting another second as he hangs up.

His feet carry him through the crowded sidewalk too quickly to go unnoticed, patrons giving him weird looks as he pushes past them. He can’t bring himself to care about his image right now. Felix needs him.

He does manage to send a quick text to Changbin when a crosswalk light is red. He can trust that he’ll get the word around to the other boys so he can focus on making it to his brother’s side.

[triassictriserratops]

What's your headcanon for Katniss and Peeta's children?

How old was Katniss when give birth to their daughter?

How many years apart between them in age?

Your headcanon for their name?

Who gets the singing and art skill from their parent?

Bonus question : please give recs of your fav everlark post-Mockingjay fanfic.

Thank you :)

@curiousthg

@curiousthg (thank you for the ask! I have to say, it's still wild to me that ANYONE gives a shit about my opinion AT ALL.) AS A DISCLAIMER. THESE ARE ONLY MY PERSONAL OPINIONS. I FULLY RESPECT OTHER OPINIONS AND HEADCANONS. THESE ARE JUST MINE, PERSONALLY. Q.) What's your headcanon for Katniss and Peeta's children? A.) Just a few things I kind of like to think about: - There is a third toastbaby born after the epilogue. - Toastbaby girl grows up to become a veterinarian. She's quiet and serene but wildly clever. Dangerously smart. And Haymitch Abernathy is probably her favorite human being in existence. - Toastbaby boy is a wild menace to society and makes Peeta specifically tear his hair out. Constantly pulling him off of cabinet doors, scaling building walls, pulling him out of hiding places where he camps waiting to scare someone (usually Peeta) They judged parents who used child leashes until they had their boy. Likes to follow the Cresta-Odair spawn everywhere whenever he's visiting them.

Q.) How old was Katniss when give birth to their daughter? A.) Just based on the math from the book she would have been 32/33 when her daughter was born.

Q.) How many years apart between them in age? A.) In my mind it's about 3-4 years. Katniss says that her Good Things List is tedious after more than 20 years and mentions that they teach the Hunger Games in school and that Toastbaby girl knows her parents played a part in them, so i'd say she's about 7 in the Epilogue. And she specifically calls out Toastbaby Boy's "chubby toddler legs" struggling to keep up with his sister, and that he'll be learning about the Games too in a few years, so i'm thinking he's anywhere from 3-4 at the time of the Epilogue.

Q.) Your headcanon for their name?

A.) I'm so sorry to say this, i don't actually have any! I personally don't like to give them names. I FULLY AND TOTALLY respect the names other people come up with and I've seen some that are quite popular. But I've actually always REALLY connected with the fact that Katniss specifically chooses NOT to give us their names. She was forced to give so much of herself to Panem, to other people, even (on a meta level) to us as readers. Within the 1st Person POV we are privy to her every personal thought and experience. The capitol denied her autonomy and privacy. The rebels did the same. And, in the end, so did we as the reader. It's a FASCINATING lens to look at the books through! (Especially if you follow the fun idea that this series are her memoirs.) But here, at the end, Katniss is choosing to close the curtain. We're not allowed to have her children's identities. Because those are precious to her. Because they belong to them and them alone. I just find that kind of beautiful and so I've made a conscious effort to never pick names for them. Q.) Who gets the singing and art skill from their parent? A.) Toastbaby boy is the singer (and hunter). The third toastbaby is the artist. Toastbaby girl loves baking with her poppa.

Bonus question : please give recs of your fav Everlark post-Mockingjay fanfic. I'm going to be lazy and direct to this post I just wrote where I include a list of Post Mockingjay Fic Recs!!!

(BUT one VERY specific callout recommendation, just in case people don't click into the link, for Us Among the Living by the WONDERFUL @vasilissadragomir. It's beautiful and I have so much love for that story. The characters are lovingly preserved and the tone so realistic I sometimes feel like i'm reading something Suzanne Collins might have written. HIGHLY recommend!)

[odetofirstkisses]

Closing Walls & Ticking Clocks

The Pitt x Inception AU

Dropping next weekend! Aug 1 & 2.

Part 1: The Destroying of Frank Langdon

Part 2 The Defining of Samira Mohan

Melissa King is defined by the idea that our reality is constructed by our will. Here is her recurring dream.

I’m sitting on my parents’ bed, listening to my dad tell me a bedtime story. The story changes every time. I’m sure the stories mean something. His words feel important when he’s speaking, there is a weight to them that tells me he is trying to send me a message or a warning or a sign. But when I wake up, I can never remember what was said. I can only remember that he wanted me to know something. Umm… anyways. I’m sitting on my parents’ bed, and my dad is telling me a story. My mom is in her favorite chair in the corner, braiding Becca’s hair. It’s strange because Becca hates having her hair brushed, and she especially could not stand the way our mom pulled too tightly when braiding but in the dream, Becca is calm. She is docile, almost like she is sedated by our mom’s touch, like our mom’s hands are the medicine she has been missing this whole time.

Becca has a serene look on her face, and when I make eye contact with her she looks too awake like I’ve caught her doing something she should not be doing. She winks and grins, and it makes me think that maybe this is not my dream, that it is both of us dreaming together, meeting in our shared mind to visit with our parents and be kids.

I look back at my dad, and he hasn’t stopped talking. His hands are flying around as he continues his story, and he’s doing character voices. I can never remember his stories, but I know he is doing voices because he always did voices. He always wanted to make me laugh. He makes one hand take flight, making it weave around the air like an airplane. Then his hand nosedives onto the comforter, the plane is crashing and he’s making the sound effects and the strangest thing occurs- smoke rises from his bed, a cloud of black smoke as though a tiny plane really has crashed onto his bed. A ripple of debris makes its way across the bed from him to me, and I watch as the pink, floral bedspread shifts from blush to ash like it’s dying before me. I run my hands over the bedspread, trying to wipe away the darkness that is spreading but I can’t and before I know it my hands are turning gray. I rub harder and harder, trying to scrub away the infection, but I rub too hard and suddenly the bedspread is not a blanket but a bed of dirt and the bed beneath me is the ground and I am staring at my parents’ graves.

I am in the cemetery where we buried our parents. I don’t know how long I’ve been sitting here, but it feels like I have been here for too long. I look around and notice the other gravestones have cracks in them and are starting to disintegrate. I notice the weeds have gotten unruly, and it crosses my mind that the dead have been abandoned and I am the only one who still visits with them. I suddenly remember the darkness, so I look down at my hands to see if it’s still spreading up my body but my hands are clean. My hands are clean, but they are not the color they should be. They are faded and wrinkled and make me think of my grandma. That’s when Becca shows up. She just appears sitting next to me, me in front of our dad’s grave, her in front of our mom’s. She giggles, “Mel, you’re an old lady now.” And I can’t understand how it is that I am old and she is still young. I want to correct her, but I can’t deny what I see when I look at my hands. So I touch my face to see if I’m old everywhere. I feel my jowls hanging, chains of wrinkles sagging down my forehead, bags stacking up under my eyes and I know that Becca is right. I am an old lady now.

“How did this happen?” I ask her, but she won’t answer me. She keeps giggling, waiting for me to figure out the secret she’s keeping. I turn back to my dad’s grave because I think that his stories have the answer I need to understand what has happened. But when I look at his grave, it morphs into a mirror. And trapped in the mirror is me. I am twelve years old, banging on the glass and shouting something. I can’t hear what I’m shouting. My ears are too old, everything is too muffled. All I hear is the faint noise of Becca giggling. I look at Becca and she shakes her head. She won’t tell me anything. The twelve year old in the mirror breathes on the glass, lifts her finger to write a message. Just as she writes the first letter- and it changes every time- I wake up.

[joaosnovia]

João req! How he would spend the readers birthday for the first time together?

❦ - yours for the day.

summary:: it’s your first birthday with joao, and he made sure to make it the best day you’ve ever had.

warnings:: uhhh none?

writers note:: i don’t think i’ve ever been so happy to see a request in my life because i had a draft vers of sum similar but i didn’t like it so bc of this i was able to give it a glow up and give it use to thank you darling! 🩵

tags:: @barcapix @n0vazsq @httpsdana @paucubarsisimp ; lmk if you wanna be added or removed!

your birthday had never been a big deal to you. sure, you appreciated the messages, the cake, the occasional gift, but you never expected much. so when joão asked you a week before what you wanted to do, you just shrugged.

‘whatever you want, i’m happy with.’

he had frowned at that, shaking his head. ‘nah, this is your day. i want to make it special.’

you didn’t argue, just smiled and let him plan. and now, waking up to soft kisses trailing along your shoulder, you figured you’d made the right choice.

‘bom dia, meu amor,’ he murmured, voice still heavy with sleep. ‘happy birthday.’

you turned over to face him, heart melting at the sight of his messy hair and sleepy smile. ‘thank you.’

he kissed your forehead before getting up. ‘stay in bed, i’ll be right back.’

you obeyed, stretching under the covers, wondering what he was up to. moments later, he returned with a tray, fresh fruit, pastries, a cup of coffee just the way you liked it.

‘breakfast in bed?’ you teased, sitting up.

he grinned. ‘of course. only the best for my birthday girl.’

you laughed, taking a bite of a flaky croissant. ‘if this is how you do birthdays, i might start liking them more.’

joão’s eyes softened as he watched you. ‘that’s the goal.’

the morning passed lazily, the two of you tangled in each other, talking about everything and nothing. he didn’t rush you, didn’t push any plans, just let you enjoy the slow start to the day.

eventually, he pulled you up from bed. ‘come on, we’ve got places to be.’

‘where are we going?’

he smirked. ‘not telling.’

you groaned, but let him lead you outside, where his car was waiting. the drive was peaceful, his hand resting on your thigh as he hummed along to the music.

when he finally parked, you blinked in surprise. ‘joão…’

he had taken you to an art museum, one you’d mentioned in passing months ago, saying you’d love to visit someday. you hadn’t expected him to remember.

‘you said you wanted to come here,’ he said, rubbing the back of his neck. ‘thought it’d be a nice way to spend the afternoon.’

your chest warmed at the thoughtfulness. ‘this is perfect.’

he smiled, grabbing your hand as you both walked inside.

you wandered through the exhibits, taking your time, soaking in the art. joão wasn’t the biggest art guy, but he listened when you talked about your favorite pieces, nodding along even when he didn’t fully get it.

at one point, he pulled you aside, his eyes sparkling with mischief. ‘if you could steal one painting and no one would ever know, which one would it be?’

you bit your lip, scanning the room before pointing to a serene landscape painting. ‘that one.’

he chuckled. ‘good choice. mine would be that weird abstract one over there.’

you laughed. ‘of course it would.’

after the museum, he took you to a cozy little restaurant, another place you’d mentioned wanting to try. the dinner was perfect, filled with laughter and quiet moments where he just looked at you like you were the best thing he’d ever seen.

when you got back home, you were sure the day was over. but joão had one more surprise.

he led you to the living room, where a small box sat on the table. ‘open it.’

you shot him a look. ‘joão, you didn’t have to—’

‘just open it,’ he insisted, grinning.

rolling your eyes fondly, you lifted the lid. inside was a delicate necklace, a small charm in the shape of a star hanging from the chain.

‘because you’re my estrela,’ he murmured, fastening it around your neck.

you swallowed past the lump in your throat, turning to him. ‘this is…’

he cupped your face, pressing a soft kiss to your lips. ‘i just wanted you to know how much you mean to me. i hope today was everything you wanted.’

you smiled, pulling him into a hug. ‘it was perfect. you’re perfect.’

he chuckled, kissing your temple. ‘happy birthday, meu amor.’

and for the first time in a long time, you really, truly loved your birthday.

[kachikirby]

Since you said you were bored.

If your ocs lived in our world, what places would they visit as part of a vacation?

You can use as many ocs as you'd like

Sure I can answer this.

Kurabe would like to probably explore anywhere, but I think she would love to go to zoos and museums the most. If there is any particularly good libraries in the area, those too. Same with restaurants, she enjoys good food. Also beaches. She likes beaches.

Mikuto would be fine going anywhere as long as he's with Kurabe. Same with Akemi, I think, but she'd take some convincing to go out because of how shy she is.

Mercury is also fine going just about anywhere. Her favorite place might be shopping centers because she likes looking for inspiration when it comes to designing clothes.

Fettuccine also loves going anywhere as long as with someone she cares about. Some of her favorite places are the beach and large resort towns. She just loves to explore themed hotels. Also she's a fan of large malls and shopping centers. She doesn't spend a lot, but she likes seeing what stores have to offer.

Risotto likes places like national parks and zoos. Anywhere with a lot of nature and animals since he likes them. I think he would have a great time in the Forgotten Land.

Pandoro is similar to Risotto, but she prefers natural areas like gardens and national parks. She enjoys the serenity that comes with them.

Reedy is a nerd so he takes his family to historical places a lot. Of course he does take them to places they want to go like zoos and amusement parts, but he would definitely do things like historical road trips. Probably drag Mercury along for the hell of it. Also he would rattle on about things until Raita asks him to stop

Katsumi kinda goes on a vacation to wherever looks interesting to her. She would probably have the most variety where she goes to a candy store one day and a medieval torture museum the next.

Build Knight Cosmos is interesting. He would be more into the places like arcades and malls if only because they don't have them where he's from. He's a world traveler, so he's seen everything but I don't think the Saddrac World has those.

[unspokenundertaken]

Her parents named her Rue.

Rue, for regrets. She wonders why they would pick a mournful name for her; she wonders why her mother vacillates between icy cold and white hot rage. Why some days her mother takes her to get ice cream and have a girl's day, while on other days she berates and persecutes her.

It's easy to sit and wonder about these things as she sits, gazing out the stained glass window in The Solemnity of Mary. Did Mary ever swing wildly between jailer and savior? Did her mother?

She shifts her gaze to the pulpit, eyes falling upon the crucifix. She thinks she should feel something like serenity. Maybe sorrow. But all that fills her is a nauseating emptiness; a bitter sense of resentment. Why do those who find solace here believe while she cannot? Why does God not smile gently upon her when she so desperately needs respite? Her soul yearns for salvation, she is devout, dutiful, picture perfect.

She is a pretty, pretty liar.

Rue isn't sure when she stopped really believing. When she started singing her pretty lies to make churchgoers reward her with placid smiles and solitude. Their validation tasted like noxious rot, and yet she sought it regardless.

She likes solitude. She likes it when she is free to stare out into the distance at nothing, head full of static. She likes when it's just her and Patchouli. Patche doesn't demand anything from her; she only offers sisterly affection and a shoulder to lean on. A sunbeam breaking through a storm, not that the churchgoers associate with her. Patchouli is too wild for their tastes, which Rue thinks is another way of saying that she questions too much.

Rue likes the blackbirds that visit her. She's especially fond of the one that seems to always stare at her; he is her favorite. She talks to him, and he looks back and chirps, flirting his tail feathers in such a way that it almost feels like he's listening.

"My sweet songbird, do you like listening to me preach heresy to you? Do you think I'm at fault for not being able to believe?" she asks.

He never responds, but she doesn't need him to.

Perhaps it was because of him that she decides to ascend the ladder to gently shoo away the birds in the church. Maybe she was seeking something that the priest could not offer.

The fall was so sudden.

The fact that she ended up in Hell surprises her, she claims.

She is lying. Lovely little heretic, spewing false praise for a God she stopped believing in long ago.

When she makes her way to the Sixth Circle, for the first time in a very long time, she feels free. She knows she is not; she is all too aware that this demon of Heresy is her new jailer, but she finds that she is finally able to simply be honest in front of him. He challenges her, pries open her soul, and instead of revulsion or reprimand, he loves it. He has no expectations of devotion to anyone but him, a sentiment that he is clearly all too eager to return as he links his pinky finger with hers.

Rue gazes out the window of his archive of lies, a small smile playing on her lips as she enjoys the sound of him working.

She wonders if salvation was always meant to taste like ash.