#I’m too young to be getting too old for this:(

[catchastarorten]

—Hey, brother.

Pairing: Hwang In-ho x Hwang Jun-ho x sister!reader

Summary: after your father went through a second marriage, there was suddenly a new brother in your life, Jun-ho. While In-ho gave up so much of himself to save the ones he loved, like Jun-ho, you couldn’t help the one that In-ho loved the most, his wife. In-ho disappeared after that, but you couldn’t give up searching for him.

Warnings: angst, use of y/n, grief/loss, guilt/self-blame, mentions of illness, mentions of death, mentions of organ donation, if you watched the show you should be fine, English is not my first language, mistakes should be present, not proofread, sorry!

Word count: ~ 1.6k

The air in the house always felt heavy when you thought about In-ho. But It wasn’t always like that. You used to laugh here. You used to sit around the dinner table, teasing Jun-ho about his crushes or arguing over who’d do the dishes. Back then, your family had found ways to stay intact despite all its flaws. You, In-ho, and Jun-ho were bound by something stronger than blood.

But things had changed. They had fractured slowly, piece by piece, until you were left holding jagged shards of what once was.

You still remember when your father remarried. You were young, barely old enough to understand what it meant to have a “stepmother” and a “stepbrother.” Jun-ho had come into your life like a soft, hesitant breeze, unsure of his place. You’d been unsure too, unsure if you were supposed to treat him like a stranger or a brother. But then one day, he got sick—a fever so high you thought he might burn away entirely.

In-ho didn’t hesitate. He had been younger back then, but he was the oldest of the three of you, the protector, the one who had to shoulder responsibility, he thought.

He gave one of his kidneys to Jun-ho to save him. You found out later when your stepmother sobbed into his shoulder, thanking him over and over again.

“I’m just doing what needs to be done,” he had said quietly, as if it were no big deal. But to you, it was everything. In-ho was your hero, the glue that held your world together.

In-ho gave away a piece of himself so your stepbrother could live. It had been an act of selflessness that cemented something unspoken between the three of you: you were family, no matter the circumstances.

Things were good for a while after that. The three of you had your arguments, your moments of distance, but there was love. You and Jun-ho grew closer, and there was always this warmth when he smiled at you, it felt like he had been there your whole life—his little sister.

In-ho watched over the both of you with the quiet patience of someone who had put it on himself to take on too much responsibility, as if he was you and Jun-ho’s guardian, you two always teased him about it.

And then, In-ho met her. The love of his life. She was sweet, with a laugh that filled any room she entered. You adored her immediately. You still remembered the way she blushed when she first came over, how In-ho’s eyes softened whenever she spoke. He was happier than you’d ever seen him, and it made your heart swell.

When they got married, it felt like a new chapter. They talked about building a family, about all the dreams they had for the future. For once, things seemed solid.

But life wasn’t kind. Not to you, not to your family, and certainly not to In-ho.

When she got sick, it was like a storm cloud had settled over everything. You could see it in the way In-ho’s hands trembled when he thought no one was looking, in the dark circles under his eyes from sleepless nights spent worrying.

You wanted to help. You needed to help. Watching him crumble under the weight of helplessness was unbearable. Selling a kidney seemed like the only logical choice, right? Then you could get the money and pay for the treatment that would save her. It wasn’t a question of whether or not you should do it… it was a question of when.

But Jun-ho stopped you.

“Y/n, no.” he had said, grabbing your shoulders and shaking his head, his voice low with concern. “You can’t do this.”

“She’s dying, Jun-ho,” you shot back, your voice breaking. “And they’re having a baby. How can you just stand there and—”

“We’ll find the money another way,” he interrupted, his voice firm but filled with desperation. “Please, Y/N. Don’t do this.”

You didn’t want to listen. You wanted to storm out, to prove that you could save her, that you could do something. You had slipped away one night, signed the papers yourself, you were a grown adult who could make your own decisions, and you decided that you weren’t going to let the one good thing in In-ho’s life leave just like that. But before you could, before the surgery could start, it was too late.

She passed away, along with the baby in her stomach.

The day she died, the house felt emptier than ever. In-ho didn’t say a word. He just sat there, staring at nothing, his hands clenched into fists on his lap. You didn’t know what to say to him. No one did. Your stepmother tried, but he brushed her off. Jun-ho tried, but In-ho wouldn’t even look at him.

You tried.

“In-ho, I’m so sorry,” you whispered one night, standing in the doorway to his room.

He didn’t answer.

“I should’ve done more,” you said, your voice trembling. “I could’ve—”

“Stop.” His voice was sharp, cutting through the air like a knife. He turned to look at you, his eyes hollow. “It’s over. She’s gone.”

The bitterness in his voice stung, and you didn’t know if it was directed at you, at himself, or at the world. You wanted to say something, anything, to bring him back to you. But the words wouldn’t come.

In-ho disappeared a week later.

You woke up to find his room empty, his things still scattered where he’d left them. There was no note, no explanation, just an aching void where he used to be.

Panic set in immediately. You called his friends, the hospitals, anyone who might’ve seen him. But no one had.

Days turned into weeks, and the silence stretched on, suffocating. You blamed yourself. You replayed every moment in your head, searching for where you had gone wrong.

“If I’d just gone through with it,” you told Jun-ho one night, your voice barely above a whisper. “If I’d just been a little faster, she might still be here. He might still be here.”

Jun-ho didn’t say anything at first. He just pulled you into his arms, holding you tightly like he could keep you from shattering completely. His hand stroked your back, his fingers threading through your hair as he whispered, “It’s not your fault, y/n. None of this is your fault.”

But the guilt didn’t go away. It clung to you, a constant reminder of what you hadn’t done.

You started dreaming about In-ho. In your dreams, he was smiling, his eyes crinkling at the corners like they used to. You were kids again, running through the park near your old house, your laughter echoing into the night.

“Do you think we’ll always be like this?” you asked him in one dream, just like you had when you were younger.

“Like what?” he replied, his voice soft and warm.

“Together.”

He didn’t answer this time. He just smiled that bittersweet smile of his and walked away, leaving you alone.

You always woke up out of breath after those dreams, your eyes welled up in tears but they never fell, the ache in your chest sharper than ever.

Jun-ho tried to keep you grounded. He was your anchor, the only thing keeping you from spiraling completely. He spent hours searching for In-ho with you, combing through any lead, no matter how small.

“We’ll find him,” he said one night as you sat together on the couch, your head resting on his shoulder.

“What if we don’t?” you asked, your voice barely audible.

“We will,” he insisted, his tone firm. “He’s out there. And when we find him, we’ll bring him home.”

You wanted to believe him. You wanted to believe that In-ho was somewhere, waiting for you to find him. But as the days turned into months, hope became harder to hold onto.

The memories were what kept you going. You held onto them like lifelines, replaying every moment you’d shared with In-ho.

You remembered the time he taught you how to ride a bike, running alongside you and laughing as you wobbled down the street.

“You’re doing it!” he’d shouted, his voice full of pride. “Don’t stop!”

You remembered how he used to sneak you extra snacks when your father wasn’t looking, smiling at you as he handed them over.

You remembered the way he’d held you when you cried after your first heartbreak, whispering that anyone who didn’t see how amazing you were wasn’t worth your tears.

Those memories were all you had left of him now. And no matter how much it hurt, you clung to them.

One night, you sat in In-ho’s old room, running your fingers over the things he’d left behind. A worn-out baseball glove. A stack of books he’d never finished reading. A photograph of the three of you, taken on a rare day when everything felt right.

“I miss you,” you whispered, tears slipping down your cheeks. “Please come back.”

The silence was deafening.

You didn’t stop looking for him. Even when the hope felt too small to hold, even when Jun-ho begged you to take a break, you kept searching. Because In-ho was your brother. He was the one who had always been there for you, who had given so much of himself to protect the people he loved, but you couldn’t give a piece of yourself to save what he loved the most, and you blamed yourself every day for that.

But still, you couldn’t give up on him. Not now.

[rothpie]

❝FIDELITY❞ |part13

MASTERLIST -`✮´- Rafe Cameron x Kook!Reader x JJ Maybank

Summary: Kook!Reader’s world is upended by betrayal, and her only way forward might lie with the most unlikely person—JJ Maybank. But as they build a new life together, old flames and past mistakes refuse to stay buried.

Warnings: daddy issues

previous - next

The golden glow of the late afternoon sun bathed the shoreline in warm hues as the car came to a stop in front of a small, weathered beach house. The rhythmic sound of waves crashing against the shore was faint but unmistakable, a background melody that you hadn’t realized you missed until now. It had been years since you’d last set foot in the Outer Banks, but as you stepped out of the car, it felt like the island hadn’t aged a single day. 

From the backseat, Liliana was practically vibrating with excitement, her little sneakers tapping against the edge of the seat as she craned her neck to take in the house and the stretch of sand just beyond. “Is this it? Are we here? Is the beach right there? Can we go now?” Her words tumbled out in a rush, her face lit with pure anticipation. JJ had really hyped this up for her. 

JJ chuckled as he opened the trunk, throwing you a knowing glance. “Told you she wouldn’t be able to sit still the second we got here,” he teased, slinging a couple of bags over his shoulder. He leaned into the car to unbuckle Liliana, who was already wriggling like she could free herself. “Hold your horses, Lily! The sand’s not going anywhere.” 

“As if you didn’t spend the entire day filling her head with stories,” you shot back, grabbing your bag and giving him a pointed look. He just shrugged, flashing that lopsided grin of his that always brought out his dimples. 

“And I’d do it all over again,” he said, stepping closer, the playful glint in his eye unmistakable. 

Your brow shot up. “Oh, would you now?” 

“Yes, ma’am,” he replied with mock solemnity, scooping Liliana out of the car like she weighed nothing. 

The moment her feet hit the ground, Liliana shot forward like a firework, running a few steps before skidding to a halt and turning back to you both. Her face was a mix of wonder and worry. “But what if the waves get too big and take all the sand away?” she asked, her big eyes wide with concern. 

You couldn’t help but laugh, shaking your head as you shut the car door. “That’s not how beaches work, sweetheart.” 

JJ walked over, effortlessly lifting Liliana back into his arms. Her little arms wrapped tightly around his neck, and her free hand pointed enthusiastically toward the dunes. “Come on, uncle JJ! You promised to show me the secret seashell spots!” 

He adopted an exaggeratedly serious expression, as if carefully considering her words. “Oh, you mean the super secret ones? The ones where mermaids leave their treasures?” 

The sharp intake of breath Liliana let out was so dramatic that you were sure the neighbors heard it. “Mermaid treasures? Really? You never told me that before!” She wriggled, trying to break free to race toward the beach. 

JJ held her a little tighter, laughing. “Easy, kiddo. First, we have to go over the beach rules. Right, Ma?” 

You arched an eyebrow at him, crossing your arms with a faint smirk. “Oh, there are rules now? This is news to me.” 

JJ grinned, his eyes sparkling with mischief as he bounced Liliana lightly in his arms. “Rule number one: You always stick with your beach buddy.” He gave Liliana a small shake for emphasis. “And guess what? I’m your official beach buddy. Certified pro.” 

Liliana nodded seriously, like he’d just shared the most important information of her young life. “Got it. Beach buddy. What’s rule two?” 

JJ tilted his head like he was deep in thought, but you could tell he was stalling. He clearly hadn’t expected her to press for more. The realization made you stifle a laugh. 

“Rule two…” He trailed off, then snapped his fingers like he’d just remembered. “Oh, right! Never, ever leave the beach without finding the perfect seashell for your mom.” 

The warmth in your chest spread so quickly it was almost overwhelming. You didn’t even try to hide your smile. “A very important rule,” you said softly. 

“And no going into the water without our say-so,” you added, shooting JJ a quick look. He nodded firmly in agreement, giving Liliana a playful kiss on the cheek. 

“Got that, sweet pea? Most important rule of all,” he said, his voice gentler now. 

Liliana turned to you with the most serious expression her tiny face could muster. “Don’t worry, Mom. I’ll find the prettiest one for you. Maybe even a mermaid shell!” 

When JJ finally set her down, she took off again, her little feet leaving chaotic patterns in the sand as she dashed toward the dunes. JJ stepped beside you, setting the bags down as he followed your gaze. 

“Is everything okay?” he asked quietly, his hand brushing yours in that casual, familiar way that always made your stomach flutter. 

You glanced at him, sunlight catching the angles of his face in a way that was almost unfair. Beneath his usual playful demeanor was that rare sincerity that always left you a little breathless. “She already loves it,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. 

Liliana’s excited shout broke through the moment. She stood at the edge of the dunes, waving frantically. “Come on, slowpokes! We’ve got mermaid treasures to find!” 

JJ nudged your shoulder and leaned in, planting a quick kiss on your cheek. “You heard the boss.” 

And just like that, the two of you trailed after her, leaving the bags behind for now. As you watched Liliana’s tiny figure dart across the vast expanse of sand and sky, the weight of your old worries began to fade. 

With JJ and Liliana by your side, the past didn’t seem so heavy anymore. Their laughter and joy had a way of grounding you, steadying you like nothing else could. Almost like a balm for every wound you thought would never heal.

-

The soft rays of morning sunlight filtered through the expansive windows of Cameron Development's conference room. Rafe sat at the head of the table, pretending to listen to the consultant leading the meeting. Carefully crafted slides lit up the large screen, their graphs and figures giving the room a heavy, serious air. But Rafe’s mind was far removed from the dense mathematics on display.

He absently twirled the pen in his hand, his fingers tapping a rhythmic pattern on the table. The others in the room were focused—scribbling notes, nodding in agreement, and asking sharp questions. Yet Rafe felt as though he were sealed off in a bubble of silence, alone amidst the crowd. Inside, a weight lingered—indescribable and unshakable, like an itch beneath the skin.

“Mr. Cameron, the cost analysis for this property is displayed in the following chart...” a voice began, pulling him out of his thoughts. The woman's words, however, sounded distant, as if she were speaking from another room. Rafe’s eyes flicked to the screen, but the numbers meant nothing. They blurred together like meaningless symbols.

After a moment, his assistant Jasmine leaned over and whispered, “Mr. Cameron, is everything all right?” 

Startled, Rafe tore his gaze from the screen and looked at her. He straightened in his chair, shaking his head. “Yes, go on,” he replied, his voice harsher than he intended. Jasmine recoiled slightly before retreating, returning to her notes as the presentation continued.

But that unease—that suffocating sense of discontent—had been with him all morning. Even as he sipped his coffee earlier, he’d tried to pinpoint its source and come up empty. Maybe it was the wine he’d indulged in last night. Or the muggy weather. Yet, deep down, he knew it was neither. This wasn’t the usual stress of work. It felt like a harbinger of something unknown.

He was tired of certain things. Years ago, he’d envisioned this life differently. But now, as his father Ward Cameron prepared to pass the company to him in just a few months, Rafe couldn’t shake the feeling that he’d been chasing the wrong dream. Gaining his father’s approval had been the ultimate goal for years, and now that it was within reach, he wasn’t sure he wanted it anymore.

What did he want? He couldn’t answer that either. But he knew it wasn’t this monotonous grind. Waking up, burying himself in work, and returning home late at night to collapse into bed—it was draining him. He missed having a life.

He felt like a machine. His hangouts with Kelce and Topper had dwindled. There was no one special in his life. Occasionally, they played golf, only to part ways afterward. 

Not that he wanted his old life back. The endless partying had lost its appeal long ago. He was closer to thirty than twenty. 

Parties were for the young, and he wasn’t young anymore. His life revolved around work now. But even so, he wished for something resembling balance. 

No one forced him to work until midnight—he chose it. He could leave at a normal hour, like everyone else. But then he’d just be another employee in his father’s eyes. And yet... he couldn’t tell if his father’s opinion even mattered to him anymore.

The meeting finally wrapped up. As the attendees trickled out, Rafe stayed seated, leaning against the edge of the table and staring out the window. The city outside was alive, its energy a stark contrast to the sterile stillness of the office. Cars passed, people chatted. It was just another day for them. For Rafe, nothing felt ordinary anymore.

He heard Jasmine approach but didn’t turn to her. His gaze remained on the street. Outer Banks moved at its own pace, a rhythm he’d forgotten how to follow. “What’s next on the schedule, Jasmine?”

“There’s a site visit this afternoon, and a meeting at five,” she replied. He nodded, not saying anything more. Taking the cue, Jasmine stepped away.

His phone buzzed in his pocket. Fishing it out, he saw Topper’s name flash on the screen. With a resigned sigh, he answered, “What is it, Topper? I’m busy.”

Grabbing his wallet and car keys from the table, Rafe listened as his old friend’s voice came through, casual and unapologetic. “Man, you’re always busy. It’s boring as fuck!”

Suppressing an eye roll, Rafe considered hanging up. Topper could be exhausting.

Unlike Rafe, Topper hadn’t taken on any family responsibilities. He lived off his parents’ wealth, hosting parties and drinking himself into oblivion on his yacht. It was the life Rafe used to lead, now a distant memory.

“If you’ve called for no reason, I’m hanging up. I’ve got work to do,” Rafe said, heading toward the elevator. He nodded briefly at a few passing colleagues, their polite smiles a reminder of his carefully curated image.

“Don’t tell me you’re skipping my birthday, man. It’s my 25th! It’s gonna be legendary! You know that new yacht my dad got? I’m packing it full of people—drinks, music, girls—the works!” Topper’s enthusiasm was palpable. 

Rafe stepped into the elevator, shaking his head at the absurdity of it all. Five years ago, he might’ve been thrilled. Now, it felt like a relic of a life he’d already left behind.

“Topper,” Rafe said, his tone sharp with warning. He rubbed his temple, already tired of the conversation.

“Come on! It’s my birthday! We’re best friends! You can’t ditch me—it’s practically betrayal!” Topper’s mock indignation made Rafe huff out a reluctant laugh. As much as he could be a pain, Topper had been his closest friend since they were kids.

“Fine,” Rafe relented. “I’ll be there. But don’t expect much more from me.” 

Topper’s triumphant whoop on the other end made Rafe’s lips twitch into a faint smile. Annoying or not, Topper had a way of breaking through his walls.

“Bring Sarah too,” Topper added slyly. At that, Rafe’s smile vanished, replaced by a sharp furrow of his brows.

"Fuck off. You’re disgusting. She’s married, man." Rafe grimaced as he stepped out of the elevator, almost revolted. He couldn't stomach the idea of his best friend dating his sister again. Once was bad enough; thinking about it now made him queasy all over again.

"I know, I know. I was just joking. Besides, Ruthie would lose her mind if she saw us." Rafe rolled his eyes, heading toward the company entrance.

"If you think I’ll let you use my sister to make Ruthie jealous, I’ll come over there right now and break your nose." He pressed the button on his key fob to unlock his car parked at a distance.

"If that’s what it takes to get you to hang out, sure. Come on, man, I just wanna spend some time with my buddy." Rafe opened the car door and slid into the driver’s seat.

"Yeah, no. Screw off. I’ll see you tonight."

After hanging up on Topper, Rafe let out a deep sigh, though it did nothing to ease the tension gnawing at him. He stared at the phone in his hand for a moment before tossing it onto the passenger seat. 

Of course, he’d meet up with him later. It wasn’t like he had anything better to do tonight—today had already been a miserable excuse for a day. Maybe killing time with a drink and some banter would bring a flicker of color back to his gray world.

His schedule after the meeting had him heading out to scout a new piece of land, but he found himself pulling into a store parking lot instead. Maybe he needed a bottle of water, a cup of coffee—or maybe just something, anything.

He’d always hated smoking. The handful of times he’d indulged were just to blend in, and even then, he’d sworn it off years ago. Two years clean, give or take. 

But now? Now he craved something—cigarettes, coffee, maybe just a distraction. 

Music might help, or something to drown out the endless chatter in his head. He couldn't seem to live with the gnawing unease inside him. Not just live—enjoy. Life had become tasteless.

He was tired of the monotony, yet he didn’t want to fall into the reckless chaos of living without direction. He didn’t want to become like Topper—didn’t want to go back to the way things were four years ago. He’d left that life behind. Still, he couldn’t shake the hollow sense that life itself had no meaning anymore.

Wake up. Coffee. Work. Lunch. More work. Home. Sleep. Repeat.

It wasn’t that he expected something or even hoped for it. He just believed—deep down—that his life needed spontaneity, something unscripted.

When he glanced at other people’s lives, he hated the envy that simmered under his skin. He had everything—literally everything. Half the island bore his family’s name. He had the money, the yachts, the cars, the houses, and the company that would eventually be his.

Thinking back on how hard he’d tried to earn his father’s approval made him cringe. The future had already been set in stone. He would have ended up with it all anyway. Sarah had never wanted the company, not even as a backup plan. She couldn’t picture herself stuck in a 9-to-5 grind. She’d built a life with John B—a life she’d chosen.

Sarah made her choice.

But Rafe couldn’t help feeling like he’d fought too hard for the life he now had. The absurdity of struggling for something he was destined to inherit stung.

Looking at Sarah’s life now—running that local restaurant with the guy she loved, the one they built brick by brick—it was obvious she was happy. They spent their time together. And whenever Rafe saw her, she wore a smile so big it was impossible not to notice.

She enjoyed what she did. She had a purpose, a goal—not a grandiose one, but something she’d worked toward piece by piece.

Rafe had always aimed for the top. He wanted the best and wouldn’t settle for less. Every time he fell short, he hated it. But Sarah Cameron—now Sarah Routledge—knew how to stumble and pick herself up. She wasn’t afraid to rise slowly, setting her sights a little higher each time. Rafe, on the other hand, had always gone straight for the summit.

Sometimes he wished he could be more like her—the beloved child, the one who succeeded without trying too hard, who didn’t draw ire even when they failed.

But those thoughts felt toxic now. He no longer envied Sarah the way he had years ago. He knew her ability to be loved came from the absence of the poisonous thoughts that plagued him.

He didn’t want to look at her with bitterness or jealousy anymore. He wanted to erase those thoughts from his mind. She was his sister, and he was happy for her.

Still, he couldn’t help but admire her.

Rafe pulled his car into the convenience store’s lot and stepped out quickly, desperate for a distraction.

Every time his mind drifted to the past, it felt like his heart skipped a beat. The way he’d treated his sister—the jealousy, the reckless behavior—it was nothing short of awful. He had been a terrible person, a terrible brother.

And a terrible boyfriend.

Even if he wanted to believe those years hadn’t happened, some moments—some memories—clung to him like an unwanted shadow. During the rare moments when he let his guard down, his mind always wandered back to one thing.

Regrets and what-ifs.

His thoughts would take him there, wandering through a maze of past mistakes and fleeting happiness.

Of course, he had happy moments, as everyone did. But the happiest ones stuck with him, refusing to fade—even when he drank to forget them. 

And sometimes, he hated that. The harder he tried to drown those memories in alcohol, the sharper they became. He’d never seen himself as the kind of guy to cry drunkenly. Not until the last three years.

He clung to regrets and the potential of what could have been. He despised the ideals and fears that had once defined him. He loathed how every "truth" he’d believed in had turned out to be a lie, and how he was always the wrong person at the wrong time.

Sometimes, he couldn’t help but question and compare the choices his current self made versus the ones he’d made in the past. If he’d do it differently now. Would he, or wouldn’t he? The answer had never once changed: he’d undo every mistake. Every single one. He wouldn’t have done any of it. Not a single thing. 

She had been the right person at the right time. There was no way it hadn’t been the right time for her. But for him? Rafe wasn’t so sure. He’d been the wrong person at the wrong time—both, at once. 

Rafe stepped into the store, pulling his phone from his pocket as it buzzed with a notification. Jasmine. She was texting about some of the stakeholders causing trouble regarding the new property. 

“Perfect,” he muttered under his breath, irritation already bubbling up. He inhaled sharply, trying to calm himself. He had to think this through carefully and not let his temper get the best of him. This wasn’t some minor hiccup in his day—this was business. He couldn’t make rash decisions and screw it all up. 

He focused on steadying himself, considering what sort of issue this particular idiot might be stirring up. Was the guy testing his patience on purpose? Trying to push his boundaries? 

With another deep breath, he worked to calm the tension in his chest. Ward would have handled this with ease, but Rafe’s impulsive nature had always been his Achilles' heel. He cursed himself for it. Quickly, he typed a reply to Jasmine, asking her to cancel the evening’s meeting and schedule one with the problematic stakeholder instead. He followed up with instructions for Jasmine to stall the guy and keep things civil until then. 

As soon as the messages were sent, the sound of his own thoughts drowned out the world around him. It was like something was pulling at him, calling his name. He shoved the phone back into his pocket, trusting Jasmine to handle it. She always did. 

Looking up, he ran a hand through his hair, his gaze wandering toward the aisle ahead. That’s when he saw it—the door opening, letting in a gust of cool air. A woman walked in, a small child at her side. 

At first, he couldn’t make out her face, but something about the way she moved felt… familiar. Rafe’s heart stuttered, an inexplicable urgency creeping into his veins. He knew her. He knew her well. Or at least—he had, years ago. 

The woman stepped further into the store, placing a few items on the counter. Then, she turned. 

And Rafe froze.

You. 

It was you. He was sure of it. Nothing in his life had ever felt this certain. That face—etched into his memory, the one he used to know every detail of—was still the same, even with the faint traces time had left behind. His heart raced and sank all at once. Seeing you again, after all these years, wasn’t supposed to be this easy. 

Four years. Four long years without hearing your voice, without holding your hands. Yet you had never left his mind. Your name, your face, every moment spent with you—they were all still there, as vivid as ever. 

You had lost the golden tan you used to have, but your eyes—they spoke volumes. And your smile? God, that smile. It could kill him. A smile that big shouldn’t even be legal. 

Shit. You were still breathtaking. Rafe wanted to fall at your feet, worship you. You were still the most beautiful girl on the island, and nobody else even came close. 

He had thought about you so much. There were nights he thought he might go insane from not being able to see you. The disappointment he felt when he saw you’d removed most of your Instagram followers, leaving only a few family members, and then made your account private—it had stung more than he cared to admit. 

How many times had he stared at your profile picture, wishing he could have just one more chance to stand by your side? To go back and rewrite everything? He couldn’t count. He would’ve given up everything for a do-over. 

But then his eyes drifted to the small child by your side. His heart, which had been racing, suddenly slowed to a halt. He hadn’t noticed the little girl at first, too focused on you. She was cheerful, looking around the store with wide eyes, holding up a chocolate bar in her tiny hands. She said something to you, and you bent down with a soft smile to answer her. 

But Rafe wasn’t watching that moment of sweetness. He was staring at her face. 

Those eyes.

Rafe’s breath caught in his throat. The girl’s eyes—they were his. The same intensity, the same color, the same expression. Something deep inside him caught fire, and for a moment, he couldn’t breathe properly. Everything felt so sharp and clear, yet utterly chaotic. 

He had always known this was a possibility. In the back of his mind, he had replayed your last conversation over and over. You’d told him you were drunk. He had assumed you’d terminated the pregnancy. But the thought that you might not have—that had lingered in his mind all these years. 

You’d told him you were keeping the baby. He hadn’t asked, and you hadn’t offered any more than that. 

And now, standing here, it hit him like a truck. 

A girl. 

She was his. Yours. 

Their daughter.

You lifted your head then, your eyes meeting his. And Rafe saw the panic there, the shadow of old memories and old fears. For a moment, you froze. The child clung to your leg, oblivious, as you and Rafe just stared at each other. God, he had missed looking at you. Even from a distance, he had missed seeing your face. 

But then you moved. Quickly. You grabbed the little girl’s hand and turned away, your other hand carrying the bag of groceries. You headed toward the exit without looking back. 

Rafe stood there, rooted to the spot, as if chained in place. He wanted to call out, “Wait!” But the words stuck in his throat. He wanted to chase after you, but he didn’t know what he’d say if he did. 

The way you had left made it clear you didn’t want to talk. And he had already hurt you enough. The last thing he wanted was to reopen old wounds. 

And yet, he couldn’t stop staring after you, his heart in his throat. He’d need time to process this. To figure out what the hell he was supposed to do now.

He felt like he was drowning. All he could think about was getting out, finding air, calming himself. Memories crashing against him so vividly made it hard to breathe.

As he rushed out of the store, he tried to steady his breathing, but it didn’t help. His hands were trembling as he walked to his car.

It was as if he were drowning. He just needed to get out—out of this moment, out of this place—and catch his breath. The way his past had suddenly been thrust in his face made it hard to breathe.

He left the market in a rush, trying to control his deep, shaky breaths. His hands trembled as he walked toward his car.

---

Rafe, still struggling to process what had happened in the market, found himself standing outside Sarah's office. His knuckles were white from gripping the steering wheel too hard, a physical reflection of the chaos in his mind. He had seen Bella. A little girl... and now, everything was in disarray.

He didn’t think much—he couldn’t. He was looking for a safe harbor, someone to help him shoulder the weight of seeing you again after all these years. The missed chances, the regrets—they crushed him.

He had been young then, practically a fool kid. He was never sure if the decision he’d made was the right one.

So, without a second thought, he drove to Sarah. He knew he couldn’t go to Topper. Topper wouldn’t understand—he didn’t even know about the baby. And even if he did, he was too shallow to handle something this big. Kelce wouldn’t get it either; he’d just tell Rafe to let it go. That left Sarah as his only option.

Despite the fact that Sarah could be insufferably annoying sometimes, Rafe knew she would understand. Unlike him, she was good with emotions. She could empathize and offer sound advice. She was the only one who could talk him through this.

No matter how much she had changed, when it came to you, Rafe knew Sarah would hesitate to steer him wrong. This wasn’t some trivial matter—it was serious. It was about the woman he had once loved. 

When Rafe knocked on Sarah’s door, he was a tangled mess of unease. He couldn’t get you out of his head. The way your hair had once been straight, now effortlessly wavy. The childlike look on your face had been replaced with a maturity that only made you more beautiful—almost impossibly so. You’d always been an angel in his eyes, but now? Now you seemed ethereal.

“Rafe? What’s wrong?” Sarah asked, her tone laced with worry. She was almost panicked at the sight of him. It had probably been months since her brother had shown up at her door. To see him looking so unhinged? That had been years.

“We need to talk,” Rafe said, his voice lacking its usual edge. It was almost shaky. He needed to calm down, and he needed Sarah’s clear-headedness to help him think straight.

Sarah hesitated but opened the door fully. “Of course, come in.”

Rafe walked into the living room but didn’t sit down. He shoved his hands into his pockets and paced around before facing Sarah. “I saw her today,” he blurted out. His hands, deep in his pockets, felt ice-cold despite the sweltering heat outside.

Sarah’s face froze. “Saw who?”

He steadied himself, finally saying your name. His gaze fixed on some point on the wall, far away. “She was in the market. She had a little kid with her,” he said, his voice almost a whisper. He didn’t know what to do. He ran a hand through his hair, pacing again like a trapped animal. He felt like he was losing it.

Sarah stayed quiet for a moment, a shadow of concern crossing her face. “And?” She was bracing for some sort of story—a confrontation, a drama, maybe even a fight. Watching Rafe’s agitated figure pace the room was dizzying. He needed to calm down.

“And…” Rafe shook his head slowly. “Nothing happened. Just… our eyes met. Her eyes…” He trailed off, haunted. “I couldn’t stop looking. But I told you, didn’t I? She said she called me because she was drunk. And I thought that she… that she got rid of her. I thought she—” His voice cracked. “I thought she did. I never knew for sure because we stopped talking, but I saw them today. Both of them.”

Sarah took a deep breath, trying to steady her tone. She didn’t want Rafe to catch on to her growing unease. “Rafe, I’m not sure bringing this up is a good idea.”

“I just keep thinking!” Rafe’s voice rose. “It’s not like I wanted this! She told me she was drunk—what was I supposed to think?! And now—now, after all these years, I see her, and I don’t know what to do.” He was trying to rein himself in, to pull back the storm brewing inside him. He wasn’t blaming you. He regretted the pressure he had put on you back then, hated himself for it. It had always been your choice. It always would be.

But he had spent years in limbo, stuck in a no-man’s-land between missing you and wondering what had become of you.

Sarah looked down, staying silent. But Rafe’s eyes stayed locked on her, probing. “You shouldn’t do anything, Rafe. Maybe she’s just visiting. After all, she and Liliana haven’t been here in years—”

Rafe froze. His entire body went still, and his head snapped toward Sarah. “What did you say?”

Sarah stammered, realizing too late what she’d let slip. Her lips parted in panic as she cursed herself inwardly. All she had to do was keep quiet—and she hadn’t.

“I—I mean, I just—”

“Liliana?” Rafe’s voice was ice-cold, his eyes narrowing dangerously. “Who’s Liliana?”

Rafe blinked, his mind whirring. Just moments ago, he had been pacing like a caged animal. Now, he stood stock-still, rigid as if he were a machine running out of power. The silence in the room was deafening. “Is that her name?” His voice grew sharper, angrier with Sarah’s continued silence. “How do you know her name?!”

Sarah stayed silent for a beat, her gaze dropping to the floor as she braced herself for the hell she knew was coming. Her lips opened and closed uselessly before she finally exhaled. She was screwed. “I—I mean, we—met a few times. In Asheville—”

Rafe stumbled back, almost losing his balance. He shook his head slowly. “You were meeting with her? While I was here, losing my mind, wondering if she was even alive?!” His voice cracked with fury, spiraling out of control. Sarah flinched at his rising volume, clasping her hands nervously in front of her. 

“Rafe—” Sarah started, her voice defensive. She knew she had messed up, big time. Not only had she let it slip, but now, with Rafe losing it right in front of her, she had to keep herself from blurting out everything else. Because if Rafe knew this, he’d want to know the whole truth.

“She didn’t want our family involved,” Sarah explained cautiously. “And you—”

“Stop right there, Sarah! That should’ve been my choice!” Rafe roared, his voice shaking with emotion. “I didn’t want it, fine, I’ll admit that. But that doesn’t mean you had the right to take away my chance to know her. Or— or what she’s done! You’re my sister—my own blood. What the fuck is wrong with you?”

Sarah narrowed her eyes, fists clenched. It took everything in her not to hurl the closest vase at his head. “You already made your decision, Rafe! You chose to stay out of her life, to abandon her! So don’t you dare come at me now just because I didn’t fill you in on everything she’s been up to! If you cared so much, you’d have been there! Instead of partying while she was pregnant, maybe you could’ve been in the delivery room with her!”

“Oh, so I didn’t care?!” Rafe barked out a bitter laugh, his hands trembling. You had been the first person who made him believe in love, the first to show him kindness for no reason at all. The only person who made him want to be better. The only person he ever loved. “That’s your excuse? My mistakes? You think I don’t know I screwed up? Of course, I know! But since when did that give you the right to keep everything from me?”

Sarah shot to her feet, glaring daggers at him. “Oh, don’t even start with me! Since when did me being there for my niece and her mom turn into ‘keeping things from you’? Yes, I spent time with them. What was I supposed to do? Ignore them just because you didn’t want to be in the picture? Grow up, Rafe!”

“It was my choice!” Rafe yelled, his voice raw with frustration. His eyes burned with an intensity that matched his words. “But don’t you get it? I was falling apart! Every day without her—without them—was hell! And you saw it! You knew how much I loved her! You knew why I made that choice, why I did that!”

The argument had reached a boiling point. Sarah shook her head, finally stepping back, her voice quivering with quiet fury. “Oh, I remember your ‘choice,’ Rafe. The one you made to earn Dad’s approval by erasing her and the baby. That’s what we’re talking about, right? Own it for once!” Her voice dripped with venom, though her expression was eerily calm. She was done yelling.

At this point, she didn’t think there was anything left to defend. Rafe wasn’t the only one who had suffered. Sarah had been there. She had been there for you when you gave birth, and the father of your child wasn’t. Instead, JJ, Cleo, Pope, Kiara, John B, and Sarah herself had stood by your side. But Rafe? Nowhere to be found.

“At least when you got wasted, you had the luxury of waking up the next morning and moving on. She didn’t. Eight months after you walked out, she was leaking milk through her shirt while a baby screamed in the next room, and she was still recovering from giving birth. You left her alone, Rafe. So no, you don’t get to come in here and play the victim. I didn’t tell you, yeah. You’re damn right I didn’t.” Sarah crossed her arms, forcing herself to stay calm. Despite everything, he was still her brother.

“And you know what? I’m glad I didn’t. Because if you had even a shred of courage, you would’ve been there to find out yourself.”

Rafe froze for a moment, his chest heaving as he tried to contain himself. He took a long, shaky breath, but the anger in his eyes refused to fade. Finally, he shook his head, his jaw tight, and turned sharply toward the door. The slam echoed through the house, leaving Sarah standing there in silence.

Everything was a disaster. He hated it all—hated the situation, hated himself. But most of all, he hated that Sarah was right. 

[seumyo]

I WANT TO BE FOREVER YOUNG

PROMPT. How they mourn when you were gone too soon. You did worry about getting old, didn’t you?

FEATURING. Midoriya I., Bakugou K., Todoroki S., Shinsou H.

NOTE. I’m testing the waters with angst content + formatting style for multiple drabbles—so forgive me if it’s not that good!

MIDORIYA IZUKU — Sees you in someone else.

Midoriya Izuku found passion in teaching. It’s a life-changing job that molds each and every student into the person they want to become with the help of people like him.

His students, vibrant and full of life, were so much like his old classmates—and among them was Takashiro Ayane, her laughter light and melodic as she teased one of her friends about their clumsy landing during training.

It reminded him of someone. Someone close.

You.

And the thought always came to him, even when he didn’t mean to. Even at the most random times.

Ayane��s resemblance to you was uncanny. It wasn’t just her kindness or the gentle way she spoke; it was in the way she held herself, her subtle but unwavering resolve. Midoriya could see flashes of you in her—the friend who had once been a constant source of warmth in his turbulent journey at U.A. High.

As Ayane reached up to adjust her headband, smiling brightly, Midoriya felt a pang in his chest. The sight was like a memory brought to life, a reminder of your soft-spoken encouragement and the way she always stood firm despite her fears.

God, it felt like seeing you all over again.

“Sensei!” another student called out, pulling him back to the present. “Did you see that move? I think it might actually work in combat! Or support, if I feel like it.”

Midoriya blinked, shaking off the haze of memories. “Y-Yeah, it looked great!” he replied, mustering enthusiasm. “Your timing’s improving a lot—keep it up!”

He tried to push the thought aside, focusing on the here and now, but it was no use. The resemblance was too striking, and his heart felt heavy with the weight of unspoken grief. You were gone, after all. Gone too soon.

As the students broke into laughter again, something about the carefree sound and the dynamic of his students triggered a reflex. Without thinking, he spoke, his voice soft yet audible enough to be heard.

“[First Name], I—”

Your name left his lips before he realized it, and the world seemed to freeze. The students fell silent, their laughter replaced by curious stares. Ayane tilted her head; confusion could be seen in her face.

Midoriya’s heart sank as he realized his mistake. He quickly forced a smile, the kind that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “I mean Takashiro,” he corrected, craning a hand to the back of his neck.

“Sorry about that. Guess I’m more tired than I thought.”

The students exchanged glances, a few offering polite chuckles before moving on. The moment passed, yet for Midoriya, the weight of it lingered. He stayed behind as the students began their walk back to the main building, his gaze fixed on the ground.

Everything came flooding in his mind. Like a relentless tide that swept him away. Your jokes, your laugh, and the countless little moments that had defined your friendship.

He hadn’t spoken your name aloud in years, not since your passing. Now, saying it felt like reopening an old wound, one he had carefully avoided for so long. But he could only do so much avoidance ‘til he has to terms with it.

“Sensei?”

The gentle voice startled him, and he looked up to see Ayane standing a few steps away. Her expression was concerned; her head tilted slightly as she studied him.

“Are you okay?” she asked softly. “You seemed... distracted earlier.”

Midoriya hesitated. The words caught in his throat as he wrestled with how to respond. How could he explain to his student that she reminded him of his dead friend?

What kind of teacher would he be if he were to say that? The awful, grieving kind, he bets.

“I’m fine, Takashiro,” he said finally, forcing a smile. “Just a little tired, that’s all. You know how these long training sessions can be.”

She didn’t look entirely convinced but nodded anyway. “If you ever need to talk, Sensei... we’re here for you too. Fighting!”

“Midoriya, grow a spine! Fighting!”

Her words hit too close to home.

“Thank you,” he could only murmur.

Ayane lingered for a moment before turning to join her classmates. He remained there, rooted to the spot as the sun began to dip lower in the sky. The golden light bathed the empty training grounds, and the silence felt heavier than usual.

“I’m sorry,” he says, his voice breaking slightly. “I’ve tried to move on, but I see you everywhere. In everything. In everyone.”

His hands clenched into fists at his sides, a mix of regret and longing washing over him. “You were right about so many things,” he continued, his voice barely audible. “I just wish you were here to see it—to see how far we’ve all come.”

But you weren’t here anymore, and that’s the problem.

Bakugou Katsuki — Mourns you longer than he’d known you.

Cemeteries never brought discomfort to Bakugou. Not until you died, that is.

The place stretches out in solemn silence; the faint rustle of leaves in the hedges are the only sounds he heard as he trudged along the familiar gravel path. His boots made dull, deliberate crunches against the fallen leaves, the heaviness of his steps matching the weight in his chest.

In his hands, he carried the usual offerings: a bouquet of red spider lilies tied neatly with a ribbon, a box of your favorite sweet treats—melon pan today—and the incense sticks he always lit with care. It had been years since your passing, but for Bakugou, the loss felt as raw as if it had been yesterday.

He approached your gravestone, its surface polished and pristine, just as he always left it. Your name was etched into the stone with delicate precision, the sight of it both grounding and crushing. As if to remind him that you weren’t coming back because you’re just here, waiting for someone to visit you.

Bakugou knelt, his movements stiff and reluctant, as though even now he couldn’t fully accept your absence. Why can’t he accept it?

“Yo, dummy,” he muttered under his breath, pulling the lilies from their wrapping and placing them carefully at the vase near the gravestone. He adjusted them twice, three times, until they looked just right. His eyes lingered on the name etched into the cold stone, a bitterness creeping into his tone.

“Brought your damn flowers again. Hope you appreciate it.”

The sarcasm in his words was thinly veiled; beneath it lay the unmistakable ache of someone who had loved and lost far too deeply.

He pulled out the incense sticks next, lighting them with a practiced flick beneath his palm. You would’ve loved to see him do it in person; maybe light up a candle or two when the power goes out during your high school dorm days. The smell of sandalwood quickly mingled with the damp earth, and Bakugou leaned back on his heels, staring at the curling smoke.

“Another week down,” he began, his voice quieter now. “Another round of saving people, making headlines, being the ‘Great Dynamight.’ ” He spat the title out like it was poison.

“It’s what you always said I’d do, isn’t it? Go big; make my mark. But, damn it, [Last Name], none of it means anything without you here to see it.”

He clenched his fists, his nails biting into his palms as the familiar wave of guilt and frustration washed over him. His head dipped as he let out a long, ragged breath.

“I thought time was supposed to make this easier,” Bakugou admitted, his voice rough. “It’s been... what? Seven years now? And every damn day, it still feels like you’re just gonna show up out of nowhere, like you’re gonna annoy the hell outta me with one of your stupid jokes.”

The thought made his lips twitch into the barest hint of a smile, though it was laced with sadness. He could almost hear your voice—that gentle yet persistent tone you’d use whenever she tried to drag him along to something.

“C’mon, Bakugou, I’ll need someone to bail me out of jail! You’ll regret it if you don’t come along.”

And you were right. He regretted it now. Every single refusal, every grumbled excuse, every moment he could’ve spent with you and didn’t.

“You were annoying as hell,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “But you were... you were good. Too good.” His fists loosened, his hands falling limply to his sides.

“And you didn’t deserve this. You didn’t deserve to go like that.” Bakugou remembers the time he almost stained his conduct by almost killing the villain that got to you.

It’s unfair, isn’t it? The villain got to live behind bars, while you lost yours.

The wind picked up, rustling the leaves in the trees above. Bakugou tilted his head back, glaring up at the overcast sky as though it were to blame for everything.

“They don’t tell you how much it fucking hurts,” he said bitterly. “To lose someone like you. They don’t tell you that the longer it’s been, the harder it gets, ‘cause every year just reminds me of how much more I’ve missed. How much quicker I could’ve been.”

He reached into his jacket pocket, pulling out a small, weathered notebook. It was yours, something your family had found amongst your belongings after you passed. They wanted him to have it since his name was always frequently mentioned. The edges were frayed, the pages creased from countless readings, but it was his most treasured possession.

Bakugou would rather die than even let a single drop of water meet one of its pages.

Flipping it open, he scanned your handwriting, some neat and some looking as though you couldn’t be bothered with basic penmanship. He stopped on a page that always gutted him.

Life’s short. Spend it with the people who matter. Don’t let moments slip away! :P

His thumb brushed over the words, his jaw tightening.

“Yeah, yeah,” he sighed. “You don’t have to keep reminding me, you know. I get it. Too late, but I get it.”

He placed the notebook on the gravestone, letting it rest there for a moment before tucking it back into his pocket. His hand lingered on the cold stone, his fingers tracing the engraved letters of your name.

“You were supposed to stick around,” he said softly. “Supposed to keep bugging me, keep dragging me out of my own damn head. Now I’m stuck here, talking to a rock, and it’s not the same. It’ll never be the same.”

The clouds began to part, a faint beam of sunlight breaking through and casting a soft glow over the gravestone. Bakugou stared at it, his eyes unreadable. He’s thinking.

“I’ll keep coming back,” he finally said, his voice steadier now.

“Every week, every month, every damn year. You’re not gonna be forgotten. Not by me.”

He stood slowly, his body heavy with exhaustion and grief. Adjusting the incense sticks and flowers one last time, he stepped back, his hands shoved into his pockets.

“See you next time, dummy,” he murmured, his voice low. “Don’t forget about me or whatever, whever you are.”

As Bakugou walked away, the wind carried the faint scent of incense and the quiet promise of a man who would mourn you longer than he’d ever known you.

TODOROKI SHOUTO — Learns things that reminded him of you.

Todoroki knows that he’s been busy. It’s in the way the white camellias he brought you months ago are now wilted, showing their dried-up state. His fingers brush against the wilted petals, lingering as if to apologize for not visiting sooner.

“I still remember the last thing you said to me,” he murmured, his voice soft yet filled with an ache he couldn’t quite put into words. “It wasn’t even anything serious—just you scolding me for not eating enough during lunch. You were always so good at taking care of me, even when I didn’t deserve it.”

He glanced down, the corners of his lips twitching into a faint, bittersweet smile. The image of you—scolding, your hands on your hips as you tried to hide your worry—was etched so vividly into his memory that he could almost hear your voice.

Todoroki’s gaze traveled to the offerings he had brought with him: a fresh bouquet of camellia, a neatly folded scarf he had knitted in one of his new hobbies that he took up classes for, and a small pack of your favorite matcha-flavored sweets. “I know you’d laugh at me for picking up knitting,” he admitted, running a hand through his hair. “But... it’s calming. I think you’d appreciate that. You always said I needed to find something that made me happy outside of being a hero.”

The scarf was simple, a pale green color that reminded him of the shade you loved wearing. He had spent hours perfecting it, thinking of how you might have joked about him for being so precise yet ultimately praised his effort.

“I hope you’d like it,” he whispered, setting it down carefully beside the gravestone. “I thought about giving it to someone else, but it felt wrong. It’s yours.”

Todoroki draws in a breath, closing his eyes, letting the stillness of the place envelop him. Yet in the quiet, his mind raced with so many thoughts all at once.

“I also learned how to cook,” he tells you—he tells your grave. “It’s not as good as yours, but Bakugou’s been helping.”

He thought of your childhood, how you had been his only light during the dark days of his father’s strict training. How you had been this bubbly girl that the teacher often praised, how you had stood by him when he was still new to making friends at the nursery, offering him a hand when he thought he didn’t deserve one.

“You were the best person I knew. And I pushed you away. You didn’t deserve that, [Last Name]. You were my friend when I didn’t know how to be one back.”

The pain of those words hung heavy in the air, and Todoroki’s hands clenched into fists at his sides. He had spent years replaying your interactions, wishing he had done things differently. If he had done things differently, you would’ve been here, probably teasing him for taking up chopstick-making classes.

“I was so angry back then,” he confessed, his gaze fixed on the gravestone. “At my father, at myself, at the world. And I took it out on you, the one person who never stopped trying to help me. I told myself I didn’t need anyone, but... I needed you.”

Another tear slipped down his cheek, and he hastily wiped it away, frustrated by the way his emotions threatened to overwhelm him. He was the Number Two Hero now, a symbol of strength and perseverance. Yet here, in front of you, he felt like the lost, broken little boy that longed for his first friend.

“I need you now, please.”

The sound of a bird chirping nearby pulled him from his thoughts, and he glanced up at the sky. The sun was setting, casting a hue that reminded him of your warmth.

You did like sunsets, didn’t you?

“You’d probably scold me for crying,” he said with a faint chuckle, though his voice still wavered. “You always hated seeing me upset. But I think it’s okay this time. You’re worth crying over.”

He knelt down again, his fingers brushing over the engraved letters of your name.

“Shoucchan! You can’t cry! We can be partners—the best partners!”

Yes, partners. The best partners for as long as you’ll have him.

“I’m trying to live the way you wanted me to,” he continued. “To find happiness outside of being a hero. To be someone you’d be proud of. But it’s hard, [Last Name]. It’s hard without you.”

He stayed there for what felt like hours, speaking to you as though you were sitting beside him, as though your gentle presence could somehow reach across the veil of death. He told you about his hero work, about the classes he was taking, about the little moments of joy he tried to find in a life that often felt too heavy.

Finally, as the sun dipped below the horizon, he rose to his feet. His knees ached from kneeling for so long, but he barely noticed.

“I’ll come back,” he said softly, his voice steady despite the tears that still shimmered in his eyes. “And I won’t let you wait so long again. Next time, I’ll bring something better than just a flower. Maybe one of those awful paintings you always said I should make.”

As he turned to leave, he hesitated, glancing back at the gravestone one last time. As if you’d be there with open arms, waiting for him.

“Thank you,” he whispered, the words carrying a weight that only you could understand.

He walked away slowly, the sound of his footsteps fading into the stillness. The cemetery grew quiet once more, the only reminder of his visit the small offerings left behind—silent testaments to a bond that even death could not sever.

SHINSOU HITOSHI — Avoidance by all means necessary, until he finally caves in.

If you were to ask Shinsou what his prized possession was, he’ll tell you that it’s a shoe box. A shoe box that seemed to hold the world—your world, with remnants of a friendship that had lasted his entire life—a lifetime with you.

Shinsou sat on the couch, his elbows resting on his knees, his hands hovering over the box as though touching it might shatter him. He had been avoiding this moment for weeks. The funeral had been a blur, the condolences—a cacophony of words that didn’t mean anything because he knew that they couldn’t possibly understand how it feels. Everyone seemed to know the right things to say, except him.

All he had wanted was for you to be there, to laugh at how awkward he was with the whole ordeal.

Now, it was just silence.

With a deep breath, he finally reached into the box, pulling out the first item: a knitted scarf, a rich shade of violet. It was slightly uneven, the handiwork amateur at best, but it was one of the first gifts you’d ever made for him. He could still remember your smile when you handed it over during your middle school years.

“I thought it’d look good on you,” you had said, brushing your hair behind your ear. “Don’t laugh! It’s my first try. Nuh uh, I’m taking this back—Hitoshi!”

He hadn’t laughed. Ok, maybe just a quiet chuckle, but he had worn it every winter since.

He leaned forward again, staring into the box. Inside were the tokens of a life intertwined with his—handmade crafts, small souvenirs, and letters tied with ribbons in colors you knew he liked. Each item was a story, a piece of you you had given him, never expecting you would be taken away so soon.

He gently picked up a small ceramic cat figurine, its paint slightly chipped. It was from one of your family trips abroad.

“I saw this and thought of you!”

Younger Shinsou blinked, confused.

“Me?”

You nodded. “You’re like this cat. All serious, but secretly soft and comforting.”

Shinsou chuckled softly at the memory, though the sound was tinged with sadness. He had teased you for it back then, calling it tacky, but it had ended up on his desk at home. Now, it felt like a sacred relic.

Setting the figurine down, he reached for another item. Shinsou pulled out a small, framed photo of the two of you at a summer festival. He was scowling at the camera while you grinned beside him, holding up two sticks of cotton candy. It was one of the rare times you had dragged him out, insisting he needed to “experience life beyond his walls” when he just wanted to sleep in.

He’d go to every summer festival in the country—even if it meant losing sleep—as long as he gets to do it with you.

The frame trembled slightly in his grip as he swallowed the lump in his throat.

He pulls out a well-worn journal. It was yours. He hesitated, knowing that opening it would feel both comforting and unbearably painful. After a moment, he gave in, flipping through the pages.

Inside were your thoughts—notes about school, sketches of the two of them, and half-finished poems you had written during quiet afternoons.

The prince has been so stressed lately.

I wish I could take it all away.

He deserves the world, but he won’t let himself believe it.

Maybe one day he’ll see himself the way I do.

The words hit him like a punch to the gut. You had always been like that—putting everyone else first, even when you had your own struggles. He closed the journal and held it to his chest, his breath shaky.

“I should’ve told you,” he whispered. “I should’ve told you how much you meant to me.”

The tears that had been threatening to fall finally spilled over, sliding down his cheeks as he sat there in the coming twilight. He thought back to the nights they had spent stargazing, sharing their dreams and fears. You had been his constant, his answer, his light, even when he didn’t know he needed one.

His phone buzzed again, a reminder that the world kept moving even when his had stopped. He glanced at the screen—it was a message from his secretary.

Meeting tomorrow at 9, Sir. You told me to remind you.

Shinsou scoffed bitterly, tossing the phone aside. Work didn’t matter right now. Nothing did.

He looked back into the box and pulled out a small, intricately folded paper crane. He had almost forgotten about it. It was from your high school years, during a particularly tough exam season.

“This is for luck,” you had said, carefully handing it to him with an awed expression. “And if it doesn’t work, at least it’s cute, right?”

He remembered stuffing it into his pocket, too embarrassed to admit how much it meant to him at the time. Now, it felt like a lifeline.

As he unfolded the crane carefully, a note inside revealed itself. The ink was slightly faded, but your handwriting was unmistakable.

You’re going to be amazing. Always.

A choked sob escaped him, and he clenched the note tightly in his fist. You had believed in him, even when he hadn’t believed in himself. He wished he could’ve seen this sooner.

When it got dark, Shinsou didn’t bother turning on the lights. The silence felt appropriate—a space for his grief to exist without judgment.

“I miss you,” he confessed, his voice trembling. “I don’t even know how to keep going without you.”

He glanced at the small collection of gifts and letters spread out on the table. Each one was a reminder of the life you two had shared—a life you had enriched with your thoughtfulness and love.

Though the pain was overwhelming, Shinsou knew he couldn’t let your memory fade. You had given him so much, and the least he could do was honor you by living the way you would have wanted—fully and without regret.

“I’ll keep going,” he said softly, almost as if speaking to you. “You’d probably get mad if I slept in.”

The room remained quiet, save for the faint sound of the wind outside. But for Shinsou, it felt as though you were still there, your presence lingering in every corner of his heart.

SEUMYO © 2025, PLEASE DO NOT REPOST, PLAGIARIZE, MODIFY OR TRANSLATE.

[holylulusworld]

Torn in two (2)

Summary: It should’ve been the happiest day of your life.

Pairing: Mobster!Steve Rogers x fem!Reader, Mobster!Bucky Barnes x fem!Reader (platonic for now)

Warnings: heavy angst, Steve being the worst, cheating, lies, deception, sadness, arranged marriage, unrequited love, hurt & comfort, love-struck Bucky, a hint of possessive Bucky, virgin reader (mentioned)

Catch up here: Torn in two

“We should call someone and tell them that you’re still alive,” Bucky murmurs. He’s seated on the floor, next to the old armchair you are sitting in. “Do you want me to make the call?”

“No one cares for me,” you reply, too tired and emotionally drained to face Steve, your father, or anyone else right now. “Why would I want them to know that I’m still alive? They’d only try to dictate my life again.”

“Y/N, we can’t sit here forever. If you do not return, your father and Steve will go rampant, believing one of our enemies kidnapped or hurt you.”

You snort. “None of our enemies could hurt me deeper than my father and Steve did. Steve lied to me all this time. He knew about my feelings and used them against me. He’s worse than any enemy.”

“Doll, I know you’re hurting, but we cannot stay here for much longer. I swore loyalty to Steve’s family,” Bucky scoots closer to you to touch your hand. “How about we get you something else to wear first? I’ll bring you to my apartment; you can get cleaned up, and I’ll call your father in the meantime.”

You shake your head. All you want to do is curl into a ball and stay here forever. There’s nothing outside these walls waiting for you. No loving husband. No future. No supporting father. Nothing but hurting and betrayal.

Bucky sighs. He was more patient with you than any other man in your life. You feel sorry for him. He came all the way to find you for his friend.

“I’m sorry he sent you to find me,” you sniff. “Steve has this influence on people. He wraps them around his finger, and you don’t even realize he fucked you over.”

“Language, young lady,” Bucky imitates your father’s voice. “A lady doesn’t cuss.”

“I cuss as much as I want to, Barnes.” You stick your tongue out before bursting into laughter, followed by a crying fit.

Bucky gets up from the floor. He suddenly grabs you and sits back down to hold you in his lap. You’re too shocked to stop him from wrapping you in a warm hug.

“Everything is going to be alright, doll. Don’t worry. We can fix this,” he murmurs into your neck while running one warm hand up and down your back.

“How?” You sniffle. “How can we fix this mess? I—I don’t want to stay married to a man despising and lying to me. I don’t want to have sex with him and give him an heir. Likewise, I’d rather stay a virgin than let him touch me. Not only that, but I’d vomit in his face if he tried to get his hands on me.”

Bucky stiffens at your admission. He knew your father was a strict man and held you in a golden cage, protecting you even from your friends.

“Doll, I won’t let him touch you.” His hold on you turns possessive. You can feel him tense as you bury your face in Bucky’s neck. “He cannot touch you! Not after he ruined your trust in him.”

“What can I do now? I was so confident when you arrived, but I have nothing if I refuse to stay married to Steve. I’m fairly sure my father will not allow me to live the life I want.”

“What life do you want?” Bucky is the first man to ask you about your wishes. “It’s only the two of us. You can tell me, Y/N. I won’t judge you.”

“How about a cabin in the middle of nowhere? It’s nestled in the woods, and there’s a nice lake,” you dreamily run your hand over Bucky’s back as you go lax in his arms. ”I know it’s not a big dream, but I find it romantic to live there. I’d be unbothered by Steve, my father, and their business.”

“It’s a nice dream,” he nuzzles your neck and inhales your scent deeply. Bucky never got the chance to get closer to you. Only when Steve and your father were around. “You could go skinny-dipping.”

You giggle against him. “Don’t make fun of me, Bucky.”

“I wouldn’t dare make fun of you, baby. That’s the last thing I want to do is to make fun of you or hurt you. I’d never hurt you. I swear.” Bucky sounds honest, but you trusted Steve too, and everything he told you were lies. “You need some sleep. Let me take you home.”

“I don’t want to go to Steve,” you start to cry again. “Please don’t bring me home to him. He’ll hurt me! I can’t…I don’t want to.”

“Doll, Y/N,” Bucky coos. “I meant my home. No one is going to hurt you at my home. We should hurry, though. It won’t take them long to find us here.”

“Still nothing?” Steve huffs as his men return, empty-handed. “What am I paying you for?” Your husband is furious. He throws a tantrum like the man child he is. Deep down inside, he knows it’s his fault you ran, though he’d never admit his mistake.

“Rogers, calm down,” your father grunts. “Y/N is not going to run away from this marriage. Maybe she got a little scared, just like her mother. She will return soon and behave like the good girl I raised her to be.”

Steve wrinkles his nose. If it were up to him, he’d call things off and marry Peggy.

Bucky’s home looks different than you expected. It’s spartan but cozy in its own way. He has warm blankets and soft pillows. The most unexpected thing you discover lies on his couch. A white cat, with blue eyes, matching Bucky’s.

“That’s Alpine, my cat,” he nervously says. “Don’t worry. Alpine is a nice cat. Her presence is calming in a hectic life. Go ahead. You can pet her.”

“Hi,” you sniffle as you sit down. “You’re a pretty girl, huh?” You coo as the cat jumps onto your lap. Alpine meows before sniffing at your wedding dress.

“I’ll get you fresh clothes, and you can take a shower. Maybe I can buy you some time by leading Steve and his men on the wrong track. Relax. You’re safe here, with me.”

You nod and start patting Alpine. He’s right. Her presence is calming.

“I’ll take a shower,” you murmur. “Maybe tomorrow, I will see things clearer.”

Watching Bucky pace around the living room, you wonder if he’ll keep his word. For now, all you can do is trust Bucky.

Tags in reblog.

[thethreefaes]

Months ago? Yes it would be a long shot but it would be worth her peace of mind to see. At his warning the fae grinned.

“Thank you for the information. Those hunters know how to go after a weak half blood. One too scared to fight.” Her eyes shone.

“I’ll not be the prey. And they’ll not be the only ones I seek.” Kiara’s gaze soften for a moment as the chief asked for a signal. Ha! As if she’d need help from a human.

… but his intentions were pure. His concern genuine. For a fae that would have ended him without thought. Sighing she plucked a crystal from her pocket. Clear blue it looked like a piece of ice.

“Here. It’s not so much a signal but it will give you peace of mind. If the crystal darkens it means I’m fighting. If it turns red, I’m injured. And should it crack, I’ve been killed.” She handed it to him. Smooth and cool to the touch.

“Do not let my little flower see that you have this. She’ll realize I’m not just returning to the Veil if she does. And the last thing I need is for her to know what I’m doing.” Kiara’s gaze falling on the young fae. Lyra playing with Altair, dangling from a horn.

“I shall try to be back by midnight. Hopefully with news that those humans will never set foot on your shore again, Chief Hiccup.”

Lyra watched from the corner of her eye as Kiara and Hiccup spoke. Were they getting along? It was nice seeing her sister attempting to be nice. Strange but in a good way.

“I bet Kiara is asking him about the hut. She better not convince him to make it look like our old home.” Lyra hung from Altair’s horn and looked down at Astrid.

“She’s a stickler for the old ways and very particular. But I love the hut you all built me. So no way that’s changing.” She huffed. When Kiara stepped away from Hiccup she waved at Lyra. The other waving back as her sister disappeared into shadows.

“I also bet she’s going back to get fae fruit.” Lyra hopped down besides Astrid. Stretching and letting her wings fade away. She felt better. More energized and buzzing with her magic.

“Thank you again. For… you know. Everything.”

“Hiccup!” Lyra ran up to the chief, an excited grin on her face.

“Are you busy? I have something to show you!” She took his hand and pulled him towards Altair and Toothless.

“You know how last month the lightning strike caused the large forest fire?” Stopping in front of the dragons the fae all but buzzing in excitement. If her wings were visible they’d be fluttering.

“I did a thing!” She couldn’t wait to show him.

[pennyold]

truck driver | d.s

Summary: alone with the car a mess and a truck driver letting her in, would it end well? pretty well.

Warnings: older!drew, age gap, swearing, humping, cum play, oral (male receiving), use of word “daddy”, no use of y/n (oc reader), plot then good sex. I think that's all, hehe.

a.n: first fic, so please don't be rude, if there are any grammatical mistakes, please let me know. Enjoy!!

w.c: 1.9k

peace and love, penny ︎︎︎★

So there I was, stuck in the middle of nowhere, with my car a mess. I started thinking of many ways to solve it, but I could not fix it anyway. I’m 6 hours away from home, and no one is willing to come and help me, I’m alone right now; fortunately, it is afternoon, and the sun is still shining barely. It was 6:40 pm when I got into the car looking for some things. I won’t stay here forever; with my stuff in hand, I recharged in the car. I put my thumb up when I saw a big truck, ignored. This is going to take so long.

The sun was almost hiding when a truck-long one finally gave me lights. He stopped by my side, and I turned by the driver’s side. “What happened to you, sweetheart?” shit, my tongue got stuck in my mouth, I didn’t know specifically, but he was not too old, with his hat backward and a little smirk “How can I help you?” watching that I didn’t say any word, he talked.

“Uh, yes, my car got stuck here, so I was wondering if you could drive me to the close motel here.” I bite my middle finger nail, anxious.

He nods “Of course I can, there’s one an hour, wanna get in?” I nod, then I check my car for one last time, and with all my things, I get in the truck, hopefully, large in the pilot and copilot place, and clean. Well, it is not that bad. With my thing in my lap, I watched the landscape while 90s rock music played at a very low volume.

“So,” he broke the silence, “what happened with your car?” he asked “The battery died.” I explained. “Mmh, there was no signal of that happening before?” he asked with a curious look. His eyes were blue, a dark blue. “No, sir.” “It may be a battery problem.” he says.

Oh, thanks for telling me I didn’t notice.

“I mean, comin’ from the company.” he knows what I think when my face is confused “I know my answer sounds stupid, but it can happen.”  “Yeah, sure.” Maybe I sound rude, but I was just exhausted, and I don’t want to talk, not right now.

After a while on the road, I opened my mouth. “How much rest?” I shyly grab my things hard, nervous. When I looked at him for a little second, he watched my move, he shut his eyes away and rapidly looked at me. “Not too much, a 40 min we are there, don’t worry. I promise.” he slightly smirk, and I saw some awkwardness on his face.

“Do you live here?” I asked, I’m feeling he’s giving the green signal. “Yeah, in the south, what about you?” I looked out the window, seeing the sun in the middle of the mountain. “A 6 hours away, to the north.” “Alright,” he nodded, then a little gas station with a market appeared “Do you need souvenirs?” “Oh, no, don’t worry,” I smile shyly, not to bother him, “I will come at midnight on my own”

“What are you sayin’? I said it cuz after would not be safe and worse if you go alone.” he denied it, and I disappointed him, good job. “It’s not safe out here, trust me when I say it. “Yes, sir.” “Do not call me ‘sir’, I’m not that old.” Then he looked at me. I feel guilty “It’s not in a bad way, I didn’t want to be rude to you.” “No, it’s fine, I get it, don’t worry. Can I call you by your name?” I smiled. “Call me Drew, what bout’ you, hon?” I feel a slight heat in my body with that nickname, shit. “Alisha or Ali, whatever, it’s good.” he smiled “Alright, Ali.” 

I turned my body to face him “If you are not too old, how old are you?” “42.” he says firmly “Well…” He interrupted me. “Damn it, kid, what’s young for you?” I slightly blink. “25, mostly in the 20s.” “How old are ya now?” he side-eyed me, still looking at the road. “22.” “Sure… you look like 19, kid.” he looked at me, not convinced by my age. “I can show you my driver’s license; I’m not playing.”

“Nah, I’m just messing with you.” he laughed “We arrived in 10 minutes, Do you want me to leave you in the reception while I park the truck, or you wanna wait for me?” “I’ll wait for you.” he nods “Alright, hon.” 

We arrived at the parking lot of the motel, graving all my stuff, we got out of the truck. He helped me to get down, I thanked him, and we started the walk through the motel. As we entered, a weird smell got into my nose, really bad. There was no one in the reception, so Drew knocked the bell that was just there. Minutes later, a lady came, which wasn’t very happy. “Hey, ma’am, two rooms, please.” she checked the notes in her book “Good, it’s gonna be 40 for the two.” I grabbed my wallet, taking out 20 dollars, when I was going to give it to the lady, Drew had already given her 40 dollars. “Here.” I gave him the 20 dollars, but he denied it “Drew, please.” he whispered “By my own, Hon, don’t worry. Keep it.”

I smiled at him. The lady gave each one their key, just 1 room separated us. I waved to him and wished him good night, leaving my stuff on the little couch, I went to the bathroom, my hair was so dirty and awful. After the quick shower, I put on a tight shirt, which was the only clean I had in my backpack, and a pair of sleepy shorts. My stomach started hurting, and I was starving, I took my wallet, locked the dorm, and after I started walking to the lobby, a voice echoed behind me. “Where are you going, sweetheart?” It was Drew, out of his dorm, smoking a cigarette. “To the lobby, there is a snack machine.” he stands up “I go with you,” he throws the cigarette, turning it off with his boot. I wait for him, who’s right by my side, as we walk by the lobby, I notice it's lonely in the lobby. “You want something, Drew?” “No, sweetheart, I’m fine.”

I nod, and I buy some cookies and drinks. Ignoring that, he told me he didn’t want anything I gave him a Pepsi cola. “Hon… I told you.” “It’s for the dorm.” He smiled and thanked me. Walking to the rooms and watching the food, I thought something. “Would you like to watch a movie? Still early.” With anxious feelings, I bite my lip button. “Sure, why not?” he smiled.

As we entered the room, I left the food on the table and turned the TV on. I started curious about the area of the TV, and I found a hidden fridge with some sodas and beers.

“Wanna?” I said as I showed him the beer. “Sure, bring it, hon.” Giving him the beer, I sat next to him on the little couch, not very comfy, but we could not be in the bed, right? Quitting that question, there is where we were, my hips rocking over his crotch. “Shit baby, you make me get so hard.” I moan, kissing him again. As he put his big hand over my hips, my pussy started pulsing for the stimulation. “Drew…” I moan. “I cannot, baby. I can’t fuck you.” he denied touching my back softly. “Please.” I look at him with lust, my body is demanding him inside me. “We can do another thing. You wanna try it?” I nod immediately “I need you to trust me. I would never try to hurt you, but if I do, just tell me, and I'll stop, alright?” I nod “I want you to be rough with me. I need it.” “Baby…” he whispered. “Please” I beg.

Slowly I get out of his legs, sliding my shorts out while I watch him wake up the bed and unbelting his pants, the singular sound of the belt clinking, my pussy got more wet. I showed him my bare legs wanting him to remove my panties; he understood, sliding his fingers around the sweet material of my panties, as he took it over, he looked at my now bare pussy exposed for him.

“Open those pretty legs, sweetheart, wanna see the pretty cunt you have” As he said, I opened slowly, feeling how my folds parted and the cold air conditioner slap my pussy “Jesus, what a pretty pussy, baby, are you going to let me take care of her?” I nod “Words, baby.” “Yes, Daddy.” I bite my bottom lip. “Fuck, turn around, now” 

As I did it, I heard how he slid his boxers down, and without advancing, his cock started to run over my folds. I moan, feeling his tip, trying to get insane out of my hole. “S-shit, drew, stop teasing.” “You are not into birth control, right?” I denied I don’t have an active sexual life; I only use condoms and after-day pills. “Sorry, hon, I wanted to fuck you, but we cannot” he rubs his cock again over my folds, my sticky arousal covering his hard cock, I moan feeling his chubby tip against my entrance. “Shit, Daddy, please” I move my hips backward, wanting more of the friction. “Am I your daddy, baby?” the rub of his cock got faster, and my pussy started clenching around nothing. “Y-yes, shit, I-I’m cumming” my legs shaking and my hands gracing the sheets harder. “Cum baby, let that sticky cum cover my cock” his body fell slowly over my back, then I felt his mouth close to my ear. “Then you are going to suck it till I cum, alright, baby?” “Yes, Daddy, I will.” I barely say, feeling my high, I cum, moaning uncontrollably, shaking my legs like a weak doll. 

“On your knees.” recuperating the control of my legs, I get on my knees in front of him. I look at him, then I grab his hard cock, veined and the tip red and so chubby like I feel it. “Open your mouth with your tongue out.”  I did it as he said it, his tip over my tongue, slapping in, then he told me to suck it, putting my tongue under his cock and sucking it all. Shit, my pussy started pulsing over the feeling of his tip hitting my throat too deep, he’s big. I suck him slowly, tasting all of my cum. “Yeah baby… feel all your cum” he groaned, bringing his head back, he grabbed my hair starting to fuck my mouth, he’s so close, I could feel his cock twitching inside my mouth “Fuck, hon, I’m gonna cum” fucking my mouth he pulls it out, and his sticky fluids spank over my face, breast and some on the floor. As he released himself, he watched the cum over my face. “Shit baby, I’m sorry.” Desperately look for a towel and clean my face and breasts.

“Did it get inside your eye?” I denied. “Come, let me take you to the shower.” I pull him back, whispering in his ear that my pussy still wants attention. “Oh, sweetheart, want to be fucked? That’s what she’s going to get.”

divider: @/enchanthings-a

[secretlifeoflyss]

Head cannon taking place after Curtis parents death but before book events where Darry can feel the rift between him and Ponyboy start to widen and he reflects on how different their relationship was years ago:

It was a particularly bad day at school and Ponyboy, overwhelmed with schoolwork and exhaustion, finally breaks down. His backpack is splayed out on the floor and his legs fold beneath him, the cold tile on their kitchen floor the only thing still grounding him. His body is wracked with sobs, sobs that Darry only faintly hears through walls at night sometimes, before they’re soothed by their mama rushing in. But now they were loud and piercing and made Darry look up from his own schoolwork, concern etching its way into his heart.

As he opened the door, he could hear their mother trying to calm down Ponyboy but Pony’s sobs are so loud it seems like he can’t hear her. He’s crumpled up, hugging his knees to his chest, tears like a never-ending waterfall down his cheeks. Ever the expert in handling Ponyboy’s emotions, Sodapop is next on the scene, arms outstretched. Darry approaches his mother’s side cautiously, hoping she knew somewhat what was going on. He places his hand on her shoulder, a silent ask, but with the way her brow is creased Darry knows she is just as clueless as him.

Soda being so in tune with Pony’s emotions was something he secretly envied. Even at their young ages of 11 and 13, they were so in sync. Darry swears he can see them having silent conversations at the dinner table. It was something Darry longed to be a part of too, but tried to not let himself think about it for very long. Besides, he’s a senior now, he doesn’t need to hang out with smelly little brothers.

Darry watched with bated breath as Soda put on his most comforting smile and began talking in that soft voice he does only around Ponyboy. But as Sodapop tried to bring Pony into his arms, you would think that Ponyboy had been burnt by Soda’s touch with the way he flinched away from him. Ponyboy’s cries grew even louder, seeming to shake the whole house. Darry was sure their neighbors could hear the racket. Sodapop turned to Darry, hurt visible in his eyes.

Darry loves his littlest brother, of course he does. But it’s hard to bond with an eleven year old when you’re trying to get a full ride scholarship for football. Practice and honors classes take up time, time Darry doesn’t have as much of to spend with his little brothers. But that doesn’t mean he won’t fulfill his big brother duties when he needs to. He’ll happily look over Pony’s homework if he asks. Will walk his brothers home from school if their dad can’t pick them up after work. Those moments where he gets to be Soda and Pony’s big brother, Darry can’t help but feel his ego start to fluff up each time. He was their big brother, Superman, and there was a part of him that loved being needed like that.

After a third and failed attempt by Sodapop, Ponyboy’s tear-filled eyes began darting around the room. He pushed Soda away, prompting a light scolding from their mother before his cries drowned her out again.

“No! Darry! I just want Darry!” Ponyboy screamed at the top of his lungs.

For just a moment, Darry felt frozen in place. Ponyboy had long grown out of the phase where he followed his big brothers around. He still did it sometimes, Darry noticed, but Pony would swear up and down that he didn’t do that anymore and that he ain’t no kid. But now, with Ponyboy calling for him, all Darry can see his kid brother as that toddler again, crying out for Darry after Soda and Steve accidentally got too rough with him.

He wraps Ponyboy in his arms, crouching with him on the floor of their kitchen, hugging him from behind. Gently, Darry cards his fingers through his brother’s auburn hair, and whispers reassurances in his ear, just like his momma’s done all their lives.

“It’s okay, Pone. I gotcha little buddy, I’m right here,” he presses his chest up against Pony’s back to try to get his brother to match his breathing. He could feel his family’s surprised gaze falling down on them. He knows what they’re thinking. Usually it’s their mom or Sodapop who Ponyboy wants for comfort. Darry hasn’t had to calm his brother down like this since he was a toddler. He’s just as surprised as they are, if he’s being honest. But there’s a small part of him that couldn’t be happier his brother wanted him again. And perhaps that was a selfish thought, but as Ponyboy’s cries began to dwindle, Darry couldn’t stop that proud feeling that bloomed in his chest again at the thought that his kid brother still needed him.

But now, as Ponyboy made a b-line from the front door to his room everyday after school, barely speaking two words to Darry since their parents passed, Darry yearned for that feeling again. And sure, while he was needed so their family could stay together and have a roof over their heads, it was a different kind of need. One that turned Ponyboy against him every time Darry tried had to remind him about curfew, his grades, or to keep his feet planted on the ground. He could feel the distance between them growing everyday, and every day it left a sinking feeling in his chest. So many days Darry felt like they were standing on two sides of a canyon, the distance between them far too great to ever reach the other.

Ponyboy was fourteen now, and hell-bent on being independent. Thinking that he knows the world well enough to be independent. He could do his own homework now. Doesn’t need Darry to look over it anymore, hell, with the way Pony writes, Darry’s sure he won’t even be able to keep up in a year or two. Most days, Darry’s reminders are met with rolled eyes and attitude Darry is sure their dad would never have let slide. Truth was, his kid brother was growing up and in just four short years wasn’t gonna need Darry at all anymore. And that thought squeezed Darry’s heart a bit tighter as he tried to focus on the dinner he was making.

Darry silently looked down the hallway and stared at the closed door at the end of the hall. As he stared at the door, whose white paint had definitely seen better days, he wondered if Ponyboy remembered that day he called out just for Darry. If it meant as much to Pony as it did Darry. But the longer he stared, the longer he couldn’t fight the nagging, pulling, selfish feeling in his heart that wished Ponyboy would call out for him again. For his littlest brother to need him like that again.

sorry for the angst, may write this out more but the sun is coming up and i need to sleep :)

[forbebeandjam]

New Year Love | Bada Lee x Fem Reader | fluff

Summary: the young and famous dancer decided to have a new life with you by her side.

Word count: 1.3k

Fluff and some angst (just a little bit)

A/N: sorry I didn’t post this sooner. I had been trying to get my life together before I have to go back to work. I usually have to make sure what I’m writing isn’t rushed but anyway! Hope you like this 🤍

~

"Get the fuck out of my house! All you do is cause trouble anyway," Your mom said as she threw your things out of the house.

The reason behind her actions began when you decided to join a dance studio to learn dance. That had always been your dream. However, you couldn't afford it. You were only eighteen years old and you had gotten fired from your job.

It's not like it was your fault. You were trying to balance your studies, two jobs, and taking care of your little sister. Your parents lived off you and you hated it, but you loved your sister so you put up with it.

Until you had enough. You told your mom how tired you were of having to choose between, work, school, and your sister. You told her you wanted to go to school and dance and she... she laughed.

You didn't expect more from her and then she threw you out of the house. With nowhere to go and teary eyes, you picked up your things, shoved them in your bag, and walked to your school.

You sat on a bench near the entrance and hugged your body tightly. December 31st never felt so lonely and cold as that night. Then you felt someone sit next to you.

You froze in terror thinking it was probably a creepy man or a guy from school that came to mess with you when a light turned on. Then you saw her face and you were too shocked to say anything.

"What brings you here?" She said as she sniffled and dusted the snow off her coat. You furrowed your brows in confusion. Bada. Lee Bada was talking to you. The same girl who was in your class for years but never acknowledged you. The girl who everyone praised for being on TV several times because of her amazing choreographies.

"Cat got your tongue? Come on Y/N. You're usually so talkative around Dami. Why not with me?" She said with a small chuckle. Then you caught a glimpse of her eyes. Red and puffy. She had been crying and she just needed someone to talk to.

"Well, I guess this isn't the perfect place to spend New Year's but, it's better than the place I used to call home," she shrugged and hugged yourself a bit more trying to hide your coldness from her.

"Did you feel out of place too?" You asked again. You could feel droplets of sweat dripping down your forehead.

"Yeah... people rarely see me for who I am nowadays. They all focus on my future and fame. I can't have one moment to myself and when I do, I hear the whispers of people talking about how they can take advantage of my name. It's very lonely," she said and her shoulders relaxed a bit.

"Wouldn't it be nice to run away to a place where no one can mess with your peace? That's my New Year's resolution. Move away from my parents," there was a small pause after she finished her words.

"What about you, Y/N?" She said and tired to you.

"Gosh... you're freezing," she said and placed her coat around your shoulders. She zipped it up carefully and her hand graced your face. She flinched and her eyes were filled with worry.

"You're burning up. I need to get you to a hospital," she said. You could barely open your eyes but you managed to tell her you couldn't afford it.

"Don't worry about that. We need to go now. Get on," she crouched down in front of you and you weakly got in her back. She picked up your things and began walking to the street to look for a cab.

Once you were in the hospital you seemed to have lost consciousness. When you woke up it was daytime. The light of the room was shining on your eyes and you groaned. Your throat felt itchy and you had a headache.

"Happy New Year, Y/N," Bada said as she entered the room.

"Bada, what are you doing here?" You asked.

"I tried to contact your family. They cursed at me and told me you were dead to them... I'm sorry," she said as she placed food in front of you.

"If you pity me because of the rumors running around school, drop the act. I hate when people pity me. I'll manage on my own," you told her and looked away as your eyes filled with tears.

But the tall girl didn't leave. She sat next to you. You didn't dare to look at her. It was the only time someone gave you attention without having to ask for it.

"You still don't get it.." she said.

"Get what?" You asked, feeling curious about her words.

"I've always wondered why you were so distant. How can your pretty eyes can carry so much love and so much pain at the same time? How can you always be awake despite all of the things you do in a day?" She said.

"How do you-"

"I've been watching you. Ever since you transferred to this school I thought you seemed pretty cool. I wanted to be your friend so bad but you never seemed to care about anything other than your school work. After hearing the rumors about you, I knew your life was pretty difficult and I didn't want to make things harder for you so I decided to stay away from you," she paused.

You couldn't believe it. All of the things Bada just said were spinning in your head. You tried to make sense of them but you couldn't. There was no way Bada, The Bada Lee, wanted to be your friend.

"You... Why? Why did someone like you even acknowledge someone like me? People try to stay away from me because of my parents. They think I am like them. You never once thought of me as someone like that?" you asked still in disbelief.

"Never. I knew that you had a hard life and that you didn't deserve it. And I knew what your eyes were hiding. I'm sorry I didn't try to approach you and sprinkle a bit of happiness when you needed it,"

"I don't know what to say. It's gonna take time for me to heal but... I'd really love for you to stick around," you responded not looking at her eyes.

You felt a warmth around your hand realizing that it was her hand.

"I'll never leave you. Never," she said and you finally looked at her. That smile. That sweet sweet smile of hers just made it 100 times clearer. You never wanted to be away from Bada.

(A year later)

And there you were. After she finished school, you two went to live in a different city. You were both thriving with success and you moved in together. Just the two of you in your shared apartment as roommates.

It was evident that the two of you had fallen for each other but neither dared to say a thing. How could you ruin something so perfect with such a vague feeling?

So you say at the dinner table looking out of the window to see all the pretty fireworks. You leaned your head on her shoulder and she hugged you tightly.

"Happy New Year, my love," she said. You lifted your head and looked at her with wide eyes.

"Did you..."

"Call you, my love? I did. I want everything with you. I want to kiss you and hug you and help you heal. I want to give you the world and care for you. I want to spend my New Year's with you like this. So, please say yes and be mine?" She said as tears filled her eyes.

You didn't say anything but launched yourself into her arms and kissed her. Softly, then passionately.

You couldn't believe the words coming out of her mouth. Something so painful as that night turned into something beautiful in the course of a year and you swore that was all you needed to be happy.

You couldn't wait for a lifetime of love and happiness next to Bada.

Thank you for reading 🩵

[eternal-love]

IT’S TOO LATE

Pairing: Austin Butler x Female!reader

Summary: Austin was your childhood sweetheart, years later, things weren’t just the same. And now your relationship was lead by guilt.

Warning: Angst. Mentions of religion. Mentions of death.

Note: I’m back with my fucking angst🤭 Too much love lately. Have to go back to my roots. You know the drill. The small and pink part are memories.

You and Austin were teenage sweethearts, you grew up together. Basically. Even your grandmothers were friends, that’s how you two met. As small children, drinking cold lemonade on the hot days of Anaheim while playing on the green backyard, swinging on swing sets and jungle gyms.

Then as you two grew older, you grew closer too. And suddenly you were dating. Then you got married and then started your own family. But things hadn’t been easy. At least not with your careers. You two had been lucky enough to have your big break in Hollywood.

But, being a celebrity wasn’t easy and your marriage was crumbling down. This wasn’t a problem you could point at Austin or viceversa. This was a two-way street. You were both at fault. Never being together, never interacting, you two had stopped having sex, hugging each other, laughing with one another. You two were always very physical so you were in serious problems.

To try and make it work between you, the two of you planned a trip back to Anaheim. To try and rekindle your relationship that seemed to be dead by now. But at least he accepted.

You were with him inside the car as he drove around, you felt like a teenager again somehow. It was a funny feeling. You still remembered him driving you both around, the Stones on the radio, then parking behind some abandoned place to make out on the back. Good old days.

You guys went to his grandma’s home. The small, green house.

The old woman opened the door, her big smile appeared once she saw you. Albeit it faltered when she didn’t see her great-grandchildren

“Oh, my dearest loves!” His grandma said with excitement, hugging you first and then Austin. Typical.

Austin was happy to see his grandma and you too, this woman was basically your second grandma. As you made your way inside her house, you felt like a child again, the smell of grandma’s home was something you wish you’ll never forget. Because you were getting used to that god-awful smell of loneliness in New York. One that started to appear once Austin and you spent less and less time together.

When you two walked inside his childhood bedroom, you both were washed with a feeling of nostalgia, this room held too many memories. Still the same. The plaid sheets, the skateboard he only used once because he got scared, shelves full of trinkets, an old tv in the corner, movie posters as well as some Playboy posters.

“I remember this!” Austin ran to his bed and grabbed a stuffed animal. Like a little boy, he held it close to his chest and smelled it. Home. That’s what it smelled like.

As you looked around on your own, you stopped right in front of his cork board. It was filled with stuff from back then, dates and concert tickets. You saw a picture of you two, but eighteen years ago. Doing the math, you were fifteen. You looked extremely young, babies actually.

“I remember them.” You pointed out softly. How stupid and in love you both looked. Austin came to stand by your side, his hand reached to touch the photo, not his young self, but yours. He ran his finger through your face in the photo.

“Hey, we were tiny babies.” Austin spoke with a small smile. “We looked so in love.”

That was the problem, looked. Past. Austin looked like he was in love with anyone he met, except with you these past months. You weren’t blind, everyone could see it.

He acted so nonchalant after saying that, he moved away and went to the abandoned guitar. “Oh, remember this? How many times did I play you Wonderwall?” He asked with a chuckle.

“Enough to make me cringe.” You answered, still looking at the photo. You could still recall how many times you had to sit through him playing you Wonderwall by Oasis once he learned it. You hated that song now.

“Hey, it wasn’t so bad. Playing you that song made you want to sleep with me. Don’t deny it.” Austin said as he kept admiring his guitar.

“That was you. Not the guitar.” You rolled your eyes as you turned to look at him. How things have changed, how nostalgic everything was.

Back when you two actually loved each other, and when it wasn’t just the fact that you two were used to each other what kept you together.

Sitting on the backyard of his grandma’s house, you stared at the old jungle gym you two used to play in. As a matter of fact, the giggles and voices still lingered in the air, far, but audible.

“I remember how much of a brat you were. Always accusing me of things.” You said. “Oh! Grandma! Y/n pushed me again and I scrapped my knee!” You imitated a child’s voice.

God, you could still remember the scoldings you got from your own grandma. Sometimes he just lied because you didn’t let him get on the slide first.

“I always got I wanted.” He spoke, a small smile forming in Austin’s face as he stared down at his glass of lemonade. “I still do.”

“You still do.” You spoke as the same time as him. You both chuckled to which you both know it was true, Austin could get whatever he ever wanted or desired.

That’s why you were still here. No matter how miserable everything was. He had something that made you want to stay by his side. Perhaps it was the fact that for more than 20 years you had thought that he was the one.

“You weren’t an angel either. In still looking for a replacement of my Workin Out Barbie. You broke it. And filled it with sand.” You scoffed, side eyeing him.

“Oh, you and your stupid doll.” Austin rolled his eyes. Smiling. “I told you I would get you one.”

“Well, I’m still waiting.” You smiled at him. Waiting? For what?

For him to love you as he used to do? To make as much effort as he did before? You didn’t know but you were still waiting. For something.

You can still remember that one special, core memory. When you were young teenagers.

“Stop. This a really old magazine.” You groaned as you sat under the tree, covering you both from getting sunburns.

“Oh, an old magazine. Please, I wouldn’t want to ruin your stupid magazine.” Austin imitated your voice, albeit his was laced with sarcasm.

“Don’t be stupid. This is my grandma’s.” You rolled your eyes. An old vintage magazine from the early 70’s.

“Lemme see it. The women back then were hot.” Austin said as he took the magazine from you. He started to eye it, skipping through the pages until you stopped him.

“That’s how I want my wedding dress to be.” You pointed at a page filled with wedding dresses, 70’s dresses, long, flowy, with bell sheer sleeves and lace. Perfect.

“You will look pretty in our wedding.” Austin said, turning to look at you with a sheepish smile.

“Excuse me, our wedding?” You asked, confused and a bit flustered. To which he nodded, his smile even wider now.

“Actually…” Austin looked through the pocket of his shorts, pulling a small lip gloss ring. Plastic, with glitter. Which probably costed him few cents. “I got this last week when I went out with Ashley and my mom. This, is while we grow up and I have the money to buy a good one.”

You blushed, smiling shyly as he took your hand and placed the ring on your finger. It was cute and you two were also fifteen. He leaned in and kissed your lips. You corresponded, although you two never told each other if you were dating or not. You both acted like a couple as soon as you discovered that you could.

“And the lipgloss is strawberry and pink. Your favorite.”

He knew you too well. It made you pull him closer and kissed him once again, this time your arms went around his neck. You both giggled in the kiss.

But as you pulled away he grabbed the opened magazine and ripped off the page where the dress of your dreams was displayed.

“What are you doing?” You freaked out and took the magazine from his hands.

“So you remember. For our wedding.” He gave you the page. You took it, your eyes wide open still.

“If my grandma sees the magazine—” he cut you off as he looked at you, a smile forming on his lips.

“Fuck your grandma.” He said, finding it funny. You found it funny too. The old woman was always uptight but she was your grandma.

“Austin!” You giggled as you shoved him softly.

Your giggles filled the backyard, as the air felt fresh and light.

Now, staring at that very same tree, all you could feel was the uptight flickering, as well as the sharp sting of words stuck in your throat.

“Do you remember when they would take us to church?” Austin mentioned, playing with his rings. You wished his hand was in your face, you always loved when you felt his cold rings against your cheek as he caressed your bottom lip.

“Yes. Yes I do. Why do you think I don’t take the kids to church?” You shook your head.

“I won’t ever get over when the preacher’s voice cracked while giving his sermon.”

The moment lingered in your minds. You both started laughing like there was not an end, like in the old times. But the laugh died early, vanishing with sighs.

“We should have taken them here.” He cleared his throat.

In reality, Austin would rather fill this uncomfortable silence with the sound of your kids running and screaming. He hated the fact that you both were so close yet so far apart. It’s like he couldn’t even reach for you. And he hated that.

“We should visit the church. Maybe it’s still as small.” He stood up and fixed his belt.

You were in for a ride.

That talk with Austin had been way too bitterly nostalgic, what was the point in dwelling of something that couldn’t return, because it had slipped from your fingers, vanished with the wind, like dirt, you could see it fly away but you couldn’t stop it or see where it landed afterwards.

You hadn’t been here in so long, Church. The church your grandmas forced you to go to when they hung out. You still remembered the altar to pray in the corner of the small church.

So you two knelt in front of the altar, it was weird. You remembered vividly being young and never actually praying, you only closed your eyes and placed your hands together.

“I don’t even know what to pray for.” You chuckled, before turning to look at Austin.

Then, you saw it. Your worst nightmare, you saw him. Yes, Austin, but not him now. But his younger self, 17 years old. The one that took you to pray after your grandmother passed

“Whatever you wish. Is just between you and whoever you’re praying to.” He looked at you, smiling. To which you only stared in complete horror.

From his perspective, he couldn’t even stare at you, staring right in front of him strictly, he forced himself to not turn his head around to face you, because if he did, he remembered your seventeen year old self. The one that didn’t know who or how to pray, whose breath was shaky.

It was heartbreaking, very. Gulping and while you forced yourself to look at him due to the guilt, he couldn’t even look at you because of the guilt.

“Austin…” You tried to speak to him, but it was too much.

“It’s too late.” He said before standing up and leaving the small church immediately.

Without knowing what to do, you looked at him and then turned around, you took a deep breath and then followed him out the church.

“No, it’s not too late. We can work on this.” You raised your voice at him.

“Really? Because I couldn’t even fucking look at you.” He turned around. Almost growling. “There’s nothing we can’t do anymore. Nothing that we haven’t done already.”

“If there’s guilt then there’s love!” You tried to excuse everything. “Why would we feel guilty if we supposedly do not care for each other anymore?”

“It’s not love. We’re just used to each other at this point! Listen, we can’t even stand each other anymore. That’s the point.” Austin spoke, his hand in his hip while his other rubbed his temple.

You stared at him. Perhaps it wasn’t the fact that your heart was breaking, but the fact that you would lose that certainty that he would always be there. Because he had always been.

“No, listen. From the beginning I knew this wouldn’t work. I just did this for the sake of nostalgia. But I cannot keep pretending. I really, really care for you. But all of this— it’s over.”

Definitely, it was the whole fucking truth but you just didn’t want to accept it.

The more it hurts, the less it shows.

“Listen, I’ve talked about this with my lawyer. Alright? It sounds bad but I just— I had to. We can get to an agreement. A quiet and calm divorce.”

To see Austin, the man who swore to never get a divorce, who didn’t want to repeat the story of his parents and childhood, ask you for a divorce. It hurt quite a lot actually, a burning pain in your chest.

“You know what? You may be right. This won’t work.” You tried to act tough. But you were crumbling inside.

As soon as you both were on your own. You both sobbed your hearts out privately. How weird. If you guys wanted a fictive so bad then why did it hurt so fucking much that it burned?

You nodded your head as you stopped the tears from falling.

“A divorce it is.”

[luimagines]

Rotten in Chains

Another Commission!

They asked for their OC named Ink who comes from a Hyrule that was conquered by Dark Link and left to rot. Hence the Title. :D

It's a short little ditty, but I hope you all enjoy it.

Masterlist

Ink was disoriented. 

He had been running; sprinting like the Devil King himself was on his heels. There was chaos and death all around him. The beasts had all but taken over the region near Lake Hylia. The air was acrid and stale. The stench of rot and death was a permanent fixture. He hardly noticed the difference anymore. The corruption had encompassed the entire inhabited earth. There was nothing worth saving anymore. Except if you counted for those that were powerlessly enduring the passage of time and through the skin of their teeth alone, had carved out a way of life amongst the madness. 

He had taken a wrong turn and came face to face with one of the creatures of the fallen. Unknown beasts born from the decay that had taken root in the soil of Hyrule.

He had turned to the shadows, hoping to lose the creature in the mist before turning around and striking with an ambush to the back of its head.

No such luck.

The ground beneath his feet vanished. His heart and stomach had all but leaped into his throat before he landed. His vision went white. It was painful. The brightness itself had nearly been enough to knock him off of his feet. At once, he felt blinded. Falling to his knees, his hands covered his face to shield the onslaught of light that penetrated the back of his skull.

Ink tried to breathe.

Once wasn’t enough. His body inhaled as if he had been a drowning man beneath the seas. He took his breath with such force that he started choking on his spit in the aftermath.

This was bad. Whatever it was about his new predicament was about to incapacitate him.

Strange still, nothing had come to attack him.

It took a while, but eventually, his eyes had adjusted to his new surroundings.

Blue.

He had only ever seen the color in the eyes of his people. It was bright and clean and all above him. To his immediate surroundings was an astonishing amount of green. He had never seen so much green in one place before. The only thing he could think of to make sense of what he was seeing was that he was in a forest, an old, borderline mythical region that he longed to see with his own eyes.

His lungs had calmed and he was able to get a better sense of what it was he was smelling to begin with.

Soil…. Not just wasted away dirt or sand, but soil. Good, clean, healthy soil.

Ink felt woozy.

The land seemed untouched by the rot. The corruption he had grown so accustomed to seeing was nowhere to be found.

He runs his hand through the greenery below him. Grass, was it? He couldn’t even recall the name, nor the last time he had seen such a plant.

Suddenly, there were voices. Many of them. Most, if not all, were male from what he could tell. They had to have come from a distant land. Each from varying regions, at least. Their accents and dialects were as foreign to him as the blue sky above his head. 

Travelers? He thought as his grip tightened on his sword. He stood with a frown. Very few people traveled anymore, except for the relief bringers and himself. It was too dangerous to do so in his home.

Unwilling to let himself be caught with his pants down, he forces himself to his feet and dones his sword. Turning to the sound of the voices, he hunkers down and listens.

“I just wish that he knew where we were. That’s all. I don’t think that an unfair thing to complain about.” One of them says.

“It would be if you hadn’t been at it for the past three hours, Legend.” Says another.

A different voice speaks up next. “Well, Twilight, it wouldn’t have to be if you would let me go check out the area. I’m a good scout, you know.”

“Thank you, Wild, but last time you did that, you came back on the back of a bear.” Legend replied. “No thank you.”

“Look!” Shouted a young boy. “There’s someone over there!”

Startled, Ink turned on his heel to see three other people approach from the opposite direction. He had miscalculated. Another group of three approached him from the front while the sides were covered. An ambush? He didn’t know but he wasn’t about to let himself be surrounded.

A well-groomed man with a long blue scarf put his hands up to placate him. “Easy, soldier. We’re all friends here. Maybe you could give us some directions. We’re looking for a friend of ours.”

He’s not sure why but the way he says is suspicious. However, that’s not inherently enough evidence to act on his half-baked suspicions. He lowers his sword and raises an eyebrow, “A friend? I haven’t seen anyone today.”

They all frowned at him at once. His own accent had given him away as well, he supposed.

“You’re not from around here, are you?” The eldest spoke up. Funny. People were considered lucky if they grew to be his age, if at all.

“Who are you looking for?” Ink asked instead, willing to change the subject.

“He’s going to be dressed in all black and he has red eyes.” A man dressed in furs crosses his arms over his chest. “Hard to miss if you ask me.”

Ink’s eyes hardened at once. That sounded familiar and not in a good way. “A shadow?”

“...Yes.” The shortest one replies, mimicking the stance of the one dressed in furs. “You could call him that, sure.”

Ink looked around the group once more. Their clothing was awfully familiar now that he thought about it. “...Is his name Dark Link?”

“You know of him?” The one with a white cape said.

Taking a deep breath, Ink fought back a growl as it tore through his throat. “I’m after his head.”

[gloriousburden]

What's the most untrue and ridiculous Loki take you've ever heard?

As of recent events, as well as not so recent events… that Loki is not at all evil/that he cannot have aspects of evil, because he is a victim of abuse. It’s a bad way to view not only fictional characters, but real life people as well in all honesty. I don’t fuck with that sort of rhetoric of viewing people as inherently innocent in EVERY single act that they commit just because they are a victim of abuse. Acknowledging that victims of abuse can do wrong is not taking away from the abuse that they faced. Some dumbass shit.

Loki’s reserved behavior automatically equals that he’s hiding every aspect of who he is because he hates himself. He can only be happy if he’s bouncing off the walls. 🤦🏻‍♀️

One of the most annoying ones for me is always going to be that Tumblr post that said Loki is 17 years old because a bunch of people started taking that seriously. HE IS PLAYED BY A MAN WHO WAS PUSHING 30. It’s a dumbass way to view fictional ages. People do this with Mipha from the Legend of Zelda too. She’s 100+ years old, but is technically an older teenager/young adult, because that’s how her species ages. We can accept bird people, enemy mobs as a whole, and a talking tree, but not the fact that a fictional race of FISH PEOPLE age differently from Hylians/other Zelda species, and have different standards of age in their culture. THAT’S what’s unlikely to them lol.

That he would prefer Laufeyson as a last name. I understand why some people think that it’ll help separate him from Odin, but in all honesty… it may be even worse. It’s tied to his background, which he hates. And he has no love for Laufey. It “others” him even more. He is Loki of Asgard. “Laufey’s Son?” He hated that.

I think this one’s a bit biased due to being an enjoyer of historical accuracy, but people HCing Loki as easily loving VERY modern Midgardian things (that don’t have any sort of familiarity to him) irks me. His ass would NOT love artificial sweeteners as soon as he is straight out of Asgard!!! Maybe he will in the unforeseeable future who knows. BUT NOT RIGHT NOW GIVE HIM TIME! Oh and obviously people treating Loki as a modern Midgardian and not as an ancient god. Let him be weirded out/bewildered by modern concepts please it’s fun!

Shit I’ve heard a whole LOT of worse ones why can’t I think… obviously, any takes that justify the series. Any takes that justify mischaracterizing Loki.

I do really dislike the fanon impression of Thor 1 Loki being an innocent baby. Not innocent as in his actions, but as in his amount of intelligence. He obviously was done very wrong and was a victim, but why do we have to act like he was a naive character in every single aspect? He gets woobified REALLY badly which sucks because Thor 1 Loki is so interesting. He’s intelligent and he didn’t just become intelligent because he was wronged.

Erm… I’m really trying to think here…

Honestly, takes that take away from Loki’s actions. Or any takes that HEAVILY blame him. Obviously, any takes from casual MCU fans who love the series and try to justify how the variant was mocked and belittled 🤢 any takes on OG Loki that use the series as a source.

Yeah there’s definitely a whole lot of worse ones i could go for hours about series related shit but..

I’ll come back to this if I think of anything.

Thank you for the asks they make me think a lot and I appreciate that LOL you’re cool

[borntobeslay]

| “Get out of here..”

Pairing: Kim Jun-hee x little sister! Reader

Genre: angst

You are now competing in the third round of “Squid Games”. Though you are absolutely terrified of losing your life, your older sister is always your biggest worry. She’s pregnant and being in a place like this is risky, as the platform starts to spin and the scary children’s song starts to play… you hold her hand tightly in fear and support. “You okay, unnie?” You asked nervously and worried. She looks at you with a small weak smile, trying to ease your nerves. “I’m okay Y/Nn. We’re gonna be okay…” Despite her comforting words, the anxiety and tension lingers in the air. Suddenly, the platform stopped and the number is called out from the speakers. “The number is… 5!” The people start racing around to group up before the timer runs out, You and your sister are scrambling around but managed to find three people…

Hyun-ju, Geum-ja, and her son Young- sik.. as you all group up and start running towards an empty room, someone knocks you down… at first nobody noticed, but by the time you’re sister noticed, it was too late. Some stranger had already ran in the room to take my place and lock the door. “Y/N!! Y/N!!” Jun-hee screamed your name in desperation, you managed to get up and run to the door and look through the little square hole to see here. “ it’s okay… it’s okay unnie.. you’re gonna get out of here…” you say while crying. You knew this was the end. 18 years old and you’re about to die playing a damn children’s game… as soon as the time goes of there is tons of gunshots sounding out and then it hits you … two shots in your back. Your body goes limp and you slowly slide down the door. As soon as the door opens Jun-hee is at your side sobbing. “Y/N! Y/N I’m so sorry!! I-… I should have protected you! Please don’t leave me!!” She keeps sobbing while holding your limp body, but with the last of your strength, you squeeze her and a whisper, “Get out…” and with those final words Jun-hee knew she wasn’t doing it Just for her baby… she’s doing it for you too..

Thank you for reader my first fic!! It’s pretty short because it was just a random thought I had lol

[dorabellingham]

Irresistible

warning: sexual intentions

characters: jobe x fem!reader

summary: when you're going to spend a few days at your boyfriend's house but have more fun plans with him

may contain spelling and translation errors!

It was a warm summer night in Sunderland, and the city seemed to sigh with the heat. You were sitting on the couch in Jobe’s apartment, the lights in the living room low, creating a quiet and intimate atmosphere. You were wearing short cotton shorts and an old t-shirt that you had stolen from your boyfriend years ago, but that still held his scent.

Jobe had just gotten out of the shower, a towel hanging over his shoulders as he walked around the apartment, barefoot, with the black t-shirt tight, outlining the muscles of his torso. He was casual, but somehow he seemed even more irresistible like that. You watched him out of the corner of your eye, trying to hide the smile that insisted on appearing on your face.

He grabbed a bottle of water from the kitchen, but noticed your gaze and arched an eyebrow.

—Why are you looking at me?

He asked, with that crooked smile that left you speechless.

You shrugged, trying to appear indifferent.

—I’m just thinking about how handsome you are. Like, annoying handsome.

Jobe laughed, approaching with slow, provocative steps. He bent down, getting to your eye level, still holding the bottle.

—Handsome? Just handsome?

He teased, his voice husky enough to make your stomach knot.

You rolled your eyes, but the sparkle in them gave you away.

—Okay, very handsome. Like, young, tall, charming…

—Ah, now it’s starting to sound better. —Jobe joked, leaning his weight on the arm of the couch, holding you in place. —Go on.

You laughed, pushing him lightly on the chest, but not too hard.

—Okay, that’s enough. I don’t want to inflate your ego.

—Too late, babe.

He smiled, leaning in to leave a soft kiss on the corner of your mouth.

You closed your eyes for a moment, absorbing that moment. When you opened them, Jobe was still there, looking at you in a way that made everything around you disappear.

—What are you thinking now?

He asked, his tone softer this time.

You bit your lip, feeling your heart race.

—That maybe I should hold you hostage.

You joked, but the intent in your eyes was anything but innocent.

Jobe laughed, but there was something in his eyes that showed he was taking the idea seriously.

—Hold you hostage, huh? —He raised an eyebrow. —And what would you do to me, exactly?

You tilted your head, your hand slowly moving up his chest, feeling the heat through his thin shirt.

—I don’t know yet… But I think I would have some ideas, darling.

—Really? —He challenged, his voice deeper now, his eyes fixed on yours. He placed the bottle of water on the table next to you and used his free hand to gently hold your chin, keeping you in place. —I want to hear them all. And maybe even put them into practice.

You smiled but didn’t respond, leaning in to close the distance between you. Your lips met in a kiss that started slow but quickly deepened, the intensity growing like the summer heat outside. Jode’s hand slid to your waist, pulling you closer as you moved onto his lap, fitting perfectly. The heat surrounding you was almost unbearable now, but neither of you seemed to care. In that moment, the whole world could wait.

His hands slid around your waist with a familiarity that made your heart race. Sitting on his lap, your legs intertwined, you felt every movement, every heavy breath against your own body. Your kiss, which had started as a tease, was now something more intense, full of desire and a kind of need that only grew.

—Do you have any idea how impossible it is to say no to you, Y/n?

Jobe murmured against your lips, his voice husky and low, enough to make your skin crawl.

You smiled, your eyes shining as you ran your hands through his still damp hair.

—Oh, I know. And I love it.

He laughed, that deep sound that made the heat in the room seem to double in intensity. Jobe tilted his head to kiss your neck, leaving a trail of light kisses that made you sigh and squeeze his shoulders.

—You're so...

He started, but stopped, his hand going up to the back of your neck, his fingers intertwining in your hair.

—So what?

You teased, your voice a little breathless.

—Irresistible, babe. Irresistible.

He finally answered, before pulling you in for another kiss, a little more possessive this time.

You felt your body heat up even more with the word and the way he looked at you, as if you were the only person in the world. The heat between you was almost tangible, each touch and each kiss seemed to carry the weight of all the times you had held each other, of all the unsaid words, of all the love you shared.

You slid your hands down his arms, feeling the muscles beneath his skin. He was strong, but at the same time, there was a tenderness in the way he held you, as if you were both something precious and something he couldn't live without.

—Did you know I planned on behaving today?

You teased, smiling against his lips.

—Oh, I know. —Jobe replied, with that crooked smile that made your heart melt. —But clearly, I wasn’t in on the plan.

You both laughed, but the laughter soon turned into sighs as the youngest Bellingham slowly laid you down on the couch, keeping his weight on his elbows so as not to crush you. You felt the fabric of your shirt fold under his hands as he explored every inch of your body, as if it were the first time, as if each touch was a rediscovery.

You bit your lip, feeling your breath and his mix. The world around you seemed to disappear. Nothing but the heat, the touch and the sound of heavy breathing seemed to matter.

—You know… —He began, his voice deep and slow. —That I would do anything for you, don’t you?

You felt your heart clench in a good way, as if his words were the answer to something you didn’t even know you were looking for.

—I know. —You answered, pulling him closer. —And I would do the same for you, babe.

And on that warm Sunderland night, while the world continued outside, you created a universe of your own, where nothing else mattered but what you felt for each other.

[solarsturniolo]

ik you've been critical of the triplets before (breath of fresh fucking air tbh)

wanted to know what you thought about the whole mallory situation? she made a tiktok saying she was concerned about their physically aggressive behavior and how she didn't think it was right that they would act like that, and they responded to her tiktok in a friday video. idk i certainly have thoughts but i wanna hear yours if you're ok with sharing them

Oh i was waiting for this one.

To start, THIS IS NOT A HATE POST. But it is something that needs to be said. I’d also like to clarify that i’m not trying to ‘clock’ anyone in this post. This is not meant to spiral out into another episode from them or their fans, but if they aren’t going to be good role models for young impressionable children, I will.

First and foremost, absolutely nothing about the way matt reacted in that video was okay. He is 21 years old, he is a grown adult that pays bills and taxes. He should not be laying his hands on anyone in an aggressive matter, even if they are just brothers. Whether you agree or not, that was abuse. Here is the Oxford dictionary definition of the word abuse, for those of you who need clarification.

Now of course, including content like that in a video is an option. And it was an option that they decided to take. Nick DID NOT have to leave that in the video, and if he hadn’t it wouldn’t have caused so many issues. What gets me the most is that some part of him KNEW it was too much because he edited half of that moment OUT of the video. We saw the extended clip through their photodump that shows just how obnoxiously aggressive Matt’s tantrum was. Not only did he hit Nick (quite hard and in a very vulnerable spot), but he also took a gift that Nick had gotten (gag gift or not, it doesn’t matter) he threw it onto the ground and told him to go and pick it up. The average person knows better than to behave that way, and it was very alarming to see that behavior from someone that we all look up to.

This led to a large divide in the fandom. Some people were (understandably) very uncomfortable with Matt’s behavior. And some people defended it with their lives. Now i’m not saying me and my sisters never fought, but we don’t lay our hands on each other. Idk maybe im out of touch with some new-found sibling abuse agreement or something, but we don’t hit each other. We argue, we get mad at each other, we fight and we make up.

Personally, i don’t think there’s anything wrong with calling out your idols when they do something wrong. At the end of the day, we’re all human and we all make mistakes. It’s easy to forget that when you let fame and money get to your head, making you feel invincible because you know your bandwagon of 13 year olds are going to be at your every beck and call. It’s our job as supporters to remind them that mistakes are okay, but accountability still needs to be taken for actions like that.

When you are in a position where you pay your bills by posting your private life on the internet, you cannot get angry that people are going to have comments and opinions about the stuff that you post on the internet…Nick made a comment in yesterdays video about how people need to mind their own business, but…you…willingly posted…that clip to the internet. For millions of people to see. Nick did not have a gun to his head while editing that video, he did not need to include it but it was a decision that he made.

One reason why i don’t watch them anymore is because they refuse to take accountability for anything that they do. They have also been drawing this out much longer than they needed to. The fanbase would’ve talked about it for a week and forgotten about it with the next friday video. The only reason why it’s still getting attention is because they so badly want to seem ‘unbothered’ by it but they keep bringing it up in everything they do. Matt’s instagram story, his comment on Nick’s recent post, their recent tiktok…literally anything that they have posted in the past week and a half, Matt and Nick just CANNOT HELP THEMSELVES from making a snarky comment. It’s a very icky trait to have imo but i’ll keep my mouth shut on that (since it’s illegal to have opinions in this fandom.)

Personally, I think Mallory was valid in her opinion and responses. Maybe terrifying was a strong word to use, which she has addressed, but it’s not like the boys don’t use hyperboles ALL THE TIME. And nothing about her video was her trying to “cancel the triplets”, she was simply sharing her concerns with Matt’s behavior.

The fanbase LOVESSSS to jump to conclusions. Most of us that had an issue with Matt’s behavior were not trying to cancel them. We’re frustrated because they’re grown adults who refuse to take any constructive criticism or accountability. I’ve said it before and i’ll say it again, the boys dislike ANYONE who is NOT AN ENABLER. Especially Nick. They LOVE an enabler that doesn’t call them out on their crappy behavior.

Back to yesterday’s video, I was VERY unimpressed with their responses. Snarky comment after snarky comment, only proving more and more that they aren’t unbothered by the situation because they’re trying so hard to prove a point. Why not stay silent like you do with everything else? Your ‘friend’ (who you still communicate with but won’t publicly hang out with) who was cancelled for contacting minors? Didn’t have much to say about that did you? But the second something makes them look bad, they jump the gun and go right into defense mode. It’s so funny to me because people would respect them so much more if they just took some accountability, reflected on their actions, and made a change to their behavior.

Including her tiktok in their video was yet another choice they made, and it was a very immature one. You cannot tell me they didn’t think about the outcome of this situation. Singling out ONE PERSON’S VIDEO, putting a target on their back, and opening the gates for these 13-15 year old hellspawn brainwashed sturniolo cult fans to go and cyberbully someone for having an opinion (and a respectful one at that.)

Also trying to blame Chris and saying Matt was ‘provoked’ into hitting Nick???? Chris made a simple comment??? And this is NOT the first time Matt has gone overboard in a reaction he’s had to one of his brothers. He’s had many outbursts, all of which ARE concerning. Throwing things aggressively, hitting, punching, cussing your brothers out on camera…it’s fucking humiliating???? I am so sorry to break it to you all but nothing about that interaction was Chris’s fault AT ALL. So for Nick to pin it on his younger brother, i found it absolutely ridiculous.

And, to sum it up, Nick did not ‘clock her’. I’m sorry but his responses when people call him out always remind me of a middle schooler. He refuses to take any accountability. HE edited the video. HE kept the clip in. HE posted the full clip on their instagram. NICK STURNIOLO DID THAT. HE DID NOT HAVE TO DO THAT.

Can’t wait for reacting to hate comments part 2!!! Because, let’s face it! This isn’t hate, it’s the truth. I’m not an enabler and apparently that makes me a hater.

And yes, they over-do the drama for our entertainment, but they’re so much more entertaining when they’re all getting along?! Even if they have an argument, it’s far more entertaining when they aren’t hitting and kicking and punching. I genuinely think their emphasis on the physical aspects of their videos came straight from the tea party video, because it’s just gotten worse and worse since then.

I haven’t watched them in months and decided to watch that video and it was a clear reminder as to why i don’t watch them anymore. This is not a hate post, i will always be grateful for their videos because they’ve gotten me through some of the darkest moments of my life. From abusive relationships, to losing a loved one to suicide, to the loss of a childhood pet, to losing my job, to trying to take my own life…I am beyond grateful for their videos and I always will be. That being said, i think they have some serious maturing and reflecting to do if they want to continue to grow at the speed they were growing at a year or two ago.

Yes i think Matt is a sweet guy. No i don’t think he meant anything serious by hitting nick. The point is that it does make some of us uncomfortable to see that behavior from a grown man because so many of us have experienced abuse. I’m not saying we’re weak or snowflakes for our responses either. Posting your outbursts on the internet for 6-7 million people to see is a choice, and you cannot expect it to come without consequences.

[hurlingdown]

EW NO

I’m so sorry Uruame.

They can pat Sukunas hair before begging placed in the nest with all the eggs, beast reader deep in their own head that they’re putting all their babies in one spot. Adult Uruame trying to leave the nest but getting gently pushed back down and licked clean like a kitten while Sukuna evil laughs.

Oh my god that whole thirst is like yucky now, I always thought it was like mutual respect, lord/worshipper dynamic. I had no idea they met when Uruame was young 😬😬

On a lighter note. Just got to 6 hearts with my darling Hayden 😍😍

FoM is early access so you can’t date Calderus properly yet, though when that happens it’ll be the first thing I do. Were going to have half dragon babies and live on our farm till we grow old 🥰🥰

For now I can do little date quests and sit with him to watch the shooting star festival.

I really do love this silly little game, and Hayden..

Oh Hayden

- 🐉

you’re all good!!! uraume and sukuna still have a lord/worshipper dynamic and i don’t think the other thing is verified by gege so no worries haha you can just treat it as a wholesome headcanon <3

beast reader treating uraume as their own... good lord my heart can’t take this domesticity. this is so adorable arghhh

congrats on the coupling and congress lmao!!!! also wdym half dragon babies i thought you were one too 🤨

[remuswriting]

THE WARMTH OF THE WORLD; OIKAWA TOORU

No longer is Tooru the young boy who destroys himself in order to be perfect, but he still has his relapses. However, you can always bring him back.

WORD COUNT: 424 words

TAGS: Manga Spoilers; Post Time Skip; Fluff; Established Relationship; Second POV; Male! Reader

NOTES: This is literally just fluff and Oikawa being in love. I'm a firm believer in Oikawa being like IN LOVE with his partner. He seems like the down bad type. Also, I love writing this man. I don't even care if my characterization of him isn't good.

It’s way past time to leave when Tooru finds himself gearing up to practice his jump serve again. No longer is he the young boy who destroys himself in order to be perfect, but he still has his relapses. Some days he watches his teammates and wonders if he actually deserves to be here—in Argentina, on the Olympic team. Those days he finds that old mindset setting in.

“Are we seriously doing this again?” a voice asks, and the ball he had tossed up hits him in the head as he turns to see you at the gym entrance. You’re no longer in your practice clothes but your street clothes, meaning he’s been out here for a while. “If you wanted me to manhandle you, then just tell me. There’s no need to overwork yourself.”

His face burns at your words, and he knows his skin is turning pink. Your laughter confirms that, which only makes him blush more. He looks down at the court for a moment, trying to get his blush to die down and failing. Your footsteps getting louder, closer, has that nervous feeling bubbling in his chest. The feeling that makes it hard to speak and his stomach erupts in thousands of butterflies.

Tooru looks at you, and there’s concern in your eyes but a smile on your face. It’s like you’re trying to hide that you’re worried even though you’re an open book to him. Still, he still has that early crush feeling, even though you two have been together for months. Although “together” may be pushing it, because there isn’t a label. You two are exclusive—labels being thrown to the wind.

“Time just got away from me,” Tooru mumbles, and the smile on your face fades slightly into something fond. Butterflies erupt in his stomach.

“And I’m here to make sure you don’t go too far.” You take a couple of steps to the fallen volleyball that rolled away from him and pick it up. “So, let’s get going now, okay?”

He wishes his younger self had you when he overworked himself. You would’ve stopped him from spraining his ankle his third year and made him take a break. The idea of needing to beat Tobio would’ve still been there, but there would’ve been someone to reel it in the way Hajime couldn’t. It’s funny thinking about how you would’ve been so good for him when you’re so good for him now.

“Okay,” Tooru says gently as you throw the volleyball into the cart. “Let’s go.”