#hbd sun

[duckydrawsart]

i can't describe what you are to me, to anyone does it make sense if i say, same color as the sun

[mushyruuu-art]

“wake up my moon”

[breakonthroough]

HBD our beloved future Pirate King! 👑🍖

🎉🎉🎉

[landonor]

Happy 24th birthday to Lando Norris (born November 13, 1999)

[nattaphum]

Apo Nattawin @ Meet & Give 2023 for his birthday party with fans

“Back then, I didn’t recognize myself, i was someone else, i wanted to be cool, but i wasn’t myself. Today, I admit to be who i am, to be happy with myself a lot”

[nocherryblood]

People who celebrate characters' birthdays are annoying- fuck this post- whatever whatever- and happy birthday Luke 🎉

[alexlacquemanne]

Happy Birthday Barbie ♥

[faceglitchsworld]

The parallels 😭❤️

[selkied00dle]

Happy birthday to me damn, I’m old

[teratomat]

3_kok ชีวิตไม่แน่นอน แต่ถ้ามีหมอนอ่ะนอนแน่ 😴👻

[coldweatherhater]

yesterday i romanticized my life so hard and this shit truly works on the fucking crowded bus i just listened to that almodóvar playlist and suddenly i was a mad 80s carmen maura

[seiwas]

contains: suggestive, slight mentions of alcohol, a lil bit cheesy but when is love not, unedited happy birthday, my love 🥺

hajime doesn’t care much about his birthday.

at least, not as much his mom and oikawa do, with lit up candles and striped party hats in his rumpled godzilla pajamas. it's greetings at midnight, on the dot, no matter what—even through the crackling sound of static over ocean waves.

he definitely doesn’t care about it as much as his college friends do, with them slapping his back and elbowing his side until his ribs hurt just so he can down another shot for the 'nth' year of his existence.

(they try with all their might to get him past the 5th, but he's driving tonight; and if there's anything about hajiime stronger than his tolerance, it's how resolute he is—firm in his beliefs and even more with his principles.)

so, hajime doesn't care much about his birthday.

but you do, and when he says things like—

"it's not that important, we don't have to."

—all you hear is, 'bla bla bla, it's important, bla bla bla we have to.'

you prepared a picnic for him, among all the other activities you planned for today.

this morning, you served him a hefty stack of pancakes with a rice bowl full of his favorites (that he took a bite from oh-so-sweetly, only to push it to the side before gripping your thigh, deciding that he wanted something else for breakfast instead).

then, you went on a hike. just a short trek up his favorite spot an hour out of town. hajime likes being under the sun; he loves the heat, the sweat that trickles down the divots of his muscles because they mean hard work. a good effort. a sign of trying.

he loves tackling you the most in this state—sticky and sweaty, a little slippery. you hate how it mixes in with your sunscreen, but love how hajime feels against your skin, arms wrapped tightly around your waist, and chin tucked sloppily against your neck.

so you let him.

(and even though you tell him he gets a pass because it's his birthday, he knows that isn't true. you always let him do this, anyway.)

his favorite roast beef sandwich, then a shower and dessert (yes, together) later have found yourselves here, at the cusp of sunset, a drive up at your favorite spot overlooking the city.

you prepared a picnic for him, packed all his favorite snacks and berries; made a small chocolate cake with the letters 'hbd hajime ♡' in even smaller fondant cut-outs. simple and minimal (because you know he would prefer it). you intended to watch the sun go down cuddled up in the few blankets you brought, but the weather’s been gloomy for the past 30 minutes, and even worse than that—it's begun to rain.

hajime can sense your stress, he always does, and when he rubs circles on your back telling you, "it's not that important, we don't have to."

you only feel the need to prove him wrong.

if you push forward the chairs in the middle row of his suv, you'll have enough space at the back. and if you park the car to face the view, you can still catch the twinkling of city lights when it turns dark.

the cogs in your brain turn and your brows scrunch as you remain silent, so much so that it begins to worry him.

rain patters against the windshield, and hajime leans over the center console, tucking your hair behind your ear.

"it's okay, babe, you've done so much for me already. we can go back—"

"no," you look him in the eye.

because, it is important.

hajime, the man you love and have loved for the past 4 years; the most hardworking, determined, and considerate man you've ever known was born today, 26 years ago.

and hajime might not care about his birthday because he doesn't think it matters all that much, but it matters to you, because this has been the most important day of the year to you since first meeting him.

"give me a bit," you twist to face the back, "excuse me," urging hajime to move to the side as you cross the center console to the seats at the middle row. you push the seats forward and bend over the backrest, hauling your picnic basket, blankets, and pillows to the now vacant and spacious trunk.

"i can help—" you hear his door handle click.

"no!" you shout from the back, "remember, we agreed! birthday boy relaxes and enjoys!"

he isn't happy about it, and you know he'll insist that he can only relax and enjoy if you're relaxed and enjoying, but you work quickly enough that he doesn't get to argue.

when you call him to the back, you've set up the entire space. the picnic mat is laid out, pillows placed comfortably in areas you both can cuddle in. a bunch of berries and crackers are laid out in a makeshift food section, along with a few bags of chips and the small chocolate cake you stayed up last night making. you serve water as your drinks because hajime prefers it that way.

the sight that greets him is more than anything he thinks he deserves, but what truly takes the cake is you, sitting on the palms of your feet with your baby hairs matted to your forehead and the sweetest smile reaching your cheeks. you hold up your phone to show a live youtube video of a setting sun in some place, somewhere in the world, and amidst the rain pattering against the roof of his car, hajime thinks he would rather have this over a real sunset, somewhere in the world, without you.

he crawls over to where you are, careful to avoid the food you set up. his cheeks hurt from smiling, eyes crinkling as he takes your cheeks in the palms of his hands, squishing them together before kissing you with all the love he can't put into words.

hajime doesn’t care much about his birthday.

but as he parks the car in reverse, positioning the trunk to view the city lights down below, he sees the twinkle in your eyes and can’t help but love how happy his birthday makes you.

[nadvs]

blurb of hbd reader and rafe with their baby girl please 🥺

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

continuation of this fic & inspired by this ask

Your eyelids flitter open, offering you a view of the white ceiling of the private hospital room you’ve been in all night. The way the light spills in through the slitted blinds tells you the sun must have just risen.

“…never feel sad or lonely,” you hear Rafe say, low and hushed.

You turn your head slightly to see your husband standing by the window, holding your bundled newborn against his chest, her eyes shut.

“And you’ll never have to wonder if we love you. You’ll know,” he mumbles.

Your heart feels both happy and sad as you overhear the words he’s whispering to your daughter, promising that she’ll never feel an absense of love like he did most of his life.

Rafe glances over to see you awake in the inclined bed, the blankets he put on you still draped over you.

“Did I wake you up?” he says, brows furrowing in concern.

“No,” you say. “I think it’s some kind of mom instinct. I keep waking up to check on her.”

He beams at you, already sure you’re going to be an amazing mother. He kisses the top of his sleeping baby’s head as he slowly walks to you, settling on the foot of the bed.

“How’d you make this?” he says in pure awe, gently lifting your daughter a bit higher on his chest.

“You helped,” you tease. “I don’t know. It’s crazy. I can’t believe she’s finally here.”

“You did such a good job,” Rafe says softly.

He thought he couldn’t possibly love you more, but the way you went through the pains of pregnancy and birth just so you two could start a family has given him an even stronger sense of admiration for you.

“Thank you,” you say tiredly.

“I’m going to give you both the best life,” he promises.

“I know,” you say with a smile. “You already are.”

The past 24 hours have been an exhausting whirlwind and you feel your eyelids getting heavy again.

“Sleep,” Rafe tells you. “I’ll wake you up when it’s time to feed her.”

“Okay,” you whisper, already dozing off.

Rafe looks down at his daughter, then his wife, and is sure he’s living somebody else’s life because he can’t possibly be lucky enough to really be sitting here.

Rafe’s mind drifts to what his mom would be doing right now. Sometimes, during big moments like these, he likes to imagine that she’s still alive, to daydream about what she’d be doing or saying in a world where her life wasn’t taken from her too soon.

In this case, he knows she’d be bringing food to the hospital, taking care of her daughter-in-law, holding her grandchild with tears in her eyes.

Rafe rubs his daughter’s small back, feeling her move with little breaths, thinking about how he’ll tell her all about the woman her grandmother was.

The pure, infinite love he feels for his baby is overwhelming, and when he realizes this is exactly what his mother felt for him, his throat tightens.

It’s like this little girl was sent to him from his mother as a testament of a parent’s love, a reminder that she always adored him, that she would never blame him for what happened.

Rafe got a second chance at life that night in the car. His mother deserved one, too, but she didn’t get it, so he tries to appreciate life enough for the both of them. It’s what she would want.

His baby stirs gently in his arms and he kisses the top of her head again as he looks at you. He’s afraid he’ll never be able to give to you what you’ve given to him. The love and grace and patience you’ve beautified his life with.

But he’ll never stop trying. He swears it. When it is his time to leave this earth, he’ll go knowing he gave you and your child everything. All of him.

[seoltzuki]

Delivery!

momo x fem reader

fluff

Weekly Momo deliveries and you just want a little sweet treat!

a/n: based from a true story (I didn’t kiss the delivery person though, but we are very good friends now) wait kiss? oops spoiler! also this used to be on my ao3

hbd momo ily!

Every Monday, you wait for the knock on your door, signaling the arrival of your weekly supply of fresh fruits and vegetables from the local farmers market. You’d heard about the service from Tzuyu, who swore by the convenience and quality.

Before your first delivery, you had already made a little request in the online order form: “send a sweet treat, surprise me.” It was a tiny change to break up your predictable and mundane schedule.

Just a little something new!

Your first meeting with Momo, the delivery person, was something. You opened the door, eyes still crusty from sleep, and there she was: rolled-up sleeves, a half-up hairdo, and cute glasses framing her face.

“Oh, hey! Didn’t expect—uh, someone like y-”

She flashed a smile that could rival the sun. “Hi! I’m Momo! Hope the surprise is a good one!” she said, raising the bag higher to your face, her muscles working and showing.

You caught a glimpse in the bag: a pack of gummies poking out the top. “This is exactly what I needed. Thank you so much!”

Momo chuckled and shrugged. “Glad you like it! I’ll be sure to keep them coming. Have a nice day!”

With that, she left, but you couldn’t stop smiling. From that Monday on, your exchanges became something you looked forward to. Momo started adding a different treat each time, a little touch of sweet mixed into your groceries.

Mondays slowly turned into mini-breaks from life’s usual grind, and Momo would show up each week with her easygoing charm. You’d chat about the weather, exchange stories from your week, and laugh over the oddities that ended up in the produce bag. Once, Momo brought you an alien-looking fruit neither of you could identify, sparking a lively debate over how one might even begin to eat it.

One Monday, Momo didn’t show up. Instead, her replacement named Jihyo knocked on your door. And of course you asked,

“Momo doing okay?”

“She’s fine, just a bit under the weather,” Jihyo replied with a smile. “But she wanted to make sure I didn’t skip your sweet.” She handed over your bag, complete with a box of chocolates and a handwritten note: “Caught a cold. I’m fine—don’t worry. And here’s the weekly treat ;)”

In that moment, you realized it wasn’t just about the fruits and sweets anymore—it was more. The connection Momo had brought to each delivery, her attention, her care...

Her, her, her.

Each Monday after that was a little brighter. One week, Momo handed you a box of caramels, a playful gleam in her eye. “Going for extra sugar today. Hope you’re up for it.”

You giggled, “I trust your judgment. You're somehow always right.”

Momo grinned. “Hey, maybe I have a hidden talent for matching snacks to people’s moods. Or just giving the right treat to the prettiest person I know.”

Your small talk gradually gave way to deeper conversations. She’d share stories from the market—the quirky customers, the hectic mornings, the occasional disasters with fresh produce. You found yourself opening up too, laughing about the oddest things in your week, discussing favorite candies and ridiculous fruit facts.

One rainy Monday, she handed over the bag with a selection of comfort sweets: chocolates, marshmallows, the works. “Rainy days call for the good stuff,” she said simply, and you couldn’t help but feel seen.

Loved, maybe?

Another Monday, Momo told you about a local festival coming up. “They’ve got some amazing desserts there. Maybe you’d want to check it out?”

It sounded like a nice change of pace. So of course you agreed.

And of course you'd say yes to the cutest girl you've ever met.

When the day of the festival came, you ended up meeting Momo there, navigating the crowded stalls and sampling all the treats. At one point, she turned to you. “You know, it feels like I’ve known you forever, and it’s only been, what, a few months?”

You nodded. “Honestly, Mondays have started feeling like a whole separate world. All because of you Momo, thank you.” you whispered, linking your pinky with hers.

You didn't miss the way she blushed.

In the weeks that followed, you found yourself waiting eagerly for those Monday and the possibility of other shared moments beyond the doorstep. Then, one sunny Monday, Momo brought you a small potted plant.

“I thought your place could use a touch of green. Plus, plants are like natural mood boosters, right?”

Touched, you accepted the gift, realizing it was more than just a plant—it symbolized something more.

One day, as you sat together on your cozy couch, Momo turned to you with a soft smile. “You know, you’ve made my Mondays something to look forward to. It’s not just about the deliveries—it’s about you.”

You felt a flutter in your chest and met Momo's gaze. She looked so sickeningly cute, her glasses slightly crooked, her cheeks flushed red and puffed up.

The words hung in the air with hearts beating faster and butterflies flying harder.

Before you could respond, Momo’s hand gently cupped your cheek, her warm fingers brushing against your skin, sending a shiver down your spine. She leaned in slowly, her lips meeting yours—soft, warm, tentative at first, then pressing with a little more certainty. The gentle pressure of her mouth against yours deepened as you both leaned closer, letting the moment linger.

When she pulled back, Momo gave you a small, shy smile, her nose scrunching up in that familiar way. “I really like you, Y/N.”

Her other hand slipped to the back of your neck, her fingertips tracing lightly along your skin, pulling you closer as her lips found yours again. This kiss was warm, unhurried.

“I like you so much.”

Another kiss.

Mondays would then never be the same, they’d be even better.

[addicsvt]

unfair!

pairing - boyfriend seungcheol x reader genre - fluff word count - 348 warnings - pet names synopsis - your favourite thing to do in the morning? admire your boyfriend a/n - please take this as a thank you for the 600 on the wonwoo fic 😭 a little scared to post this cause i dont think its thats good 🏃💨 hbd in advance to my pookie <3

Geez, when was the sun this bright?

The sun almost takes offence to your thought making it's rays brighter, somewhow. You squint your eyes turning your head to see someone beside you. Someone sleeping very peacefully, it's your boyfriend seungcheol. If only people knew how much you loved this man, too much to be describe in mere words. And, your doing it again, admiring him. Who could even blame you, he was perfect.

"Baby, your looking again." Seungcheol said voice laced with sleep, he was clearly in a fight between sleep and consciousness. His hair was all ruffled and his dimples were showing, were you getting butterflies at 10am? Yes you were.

"You can't blame me." You pouted only resulting in a soft chuckle from him.

He inched closer to you, arm draped around your waist as he whispered softly in your ear. "Oh, yes I can."

"It's not my fault your so pretty cheollie," You protested knowing how much he loved that nickname.

"The adjective pretty should only belong to you baby." He murmured as you felt his calloused hand cupping your cheeks.

"Your wrong," You muttered.

Seungcheol only snickered placing his other hand under your chin to lift it, meeting his gaze. "You know I'm right,"

"Are you?" You taunted, only to be met with a sly but soft smirk resting on his face. He definitely plotted something, you knew he had been learning from Jeonghan recently.

"l am." He responded coyly before he pressed a soft kiss to your lips. You always got butterflies every time.

"I won todays morning kiss! try harder next time!" He snickered as you pretended to sigh in defeat. There he was, your playful husband.

"Not fair! Did Jeonghan tell you to do this?" You responded in feign annoyance, rolling your eyes.

"Yep!" He bragged in excitement, eyes practically shining.

"Well, I'll take the second morning kiss then!" You replied with an edge of competitiveness in your voice as you gave him a soft peck. He got all giddy the feeling of your warm lips on his.

"Unfair!"

"Definitely fair."

ADDICSVT 2024

[whalesforhands]

now our blue remains clear

LATE HBD GOJO SATORU

previous masterlist

“This is the final call for passengers travelling on Flight GA0222Z. Please proceed immediately to Gate 12 for boarding. This is the final boarding call for Flight GA0222Z—“

“Is there anywhere you’d wanna go, Suguru?” A whisper as a hand is pressed against clear glass, an opaque reflection staring back at him as blue eyes trail all over the clear sky, the scent of summer scaring the clouds away to reveal a blue so crystalline.

Strangely comforting.

It was just like he remembered. Under the summer sun and nostalgic beats of a transparent weather, this was truly the only choice he could have ever made.

“Okinawa would be nice.” A voice so familiar, so warm and soft and gently speaking to him with an adoration so prominent.

(Would it be odd if he admitted how much this pains him even now?)

“Again? Y’er so sentimental, ya know?” And Gojo Satoru finds himself complaining, finds himself whining and being childish and everything he was all the way back when he could be.

But can you really blame him?

Sometimes, all you can really ask for is for the clear, transparent sky, for the sunlight to beat down on the asphalt walkway and for the summer to never end.

“I don’t see you disagreeing, Satoru.” His voice always felt so right, so tingly and soft-spoken, so gentle with his teasing coos and smiling eyes.

“You don’t mind, right?”

It hurts. It really does.

Even being able to hold his hand, to be able to trace every line on his palm and lace his fingers inbetween his— It just doesn’t feel real.

The sky glimmers with the rise of the shining sun, his heart pit-pattering against his chest as he looks up at the same sky they were staring at.

It’s nice.

“…not at all.”

——

“You know,” Your hand trails over his shirt, fixing the button that had haphazardly been almost pulled off. The unfamiliarity of a uniform that he had not donned in years, the odd feeling of being just that bit shorter than he used to be, his body feeling light— And his sunglasses no longer needed.

It was strange.

“Thank you for staying in this… Form.” The fluttering of your Jujutsu Tech uniform skirt, the unmistakable blazer jacket upon your form and the sight of your smiling face. “You look cute, Satoru.”

Right. He’s— They’re not adults right now. Not when his cheeks are slightly pudgy, when he’s not as tall as he’s used to— And not as he originally was.

Gojo Satoru had many regrets in his life, had too many to count on both hands for someone dubbed ‘The Strongest’. He regrets and remembers, but not once had he lamented, not in his silent, quiet grief.

Maybe it came with being so strong. Maybe it was a facade that he could never bring himself to let go of.

Clutched so desperately in his hands, a quiet wish to cast aside your fate of never being able to get older than your current self.

(Because what would you look like if you got that chance? Would you have grown your hair out more? Would your features soften? Sharpen? Would you ever grow taller—)

No.

Your cheek is soft as it nuzzles against his open palm, your eyes closed in bliss as you enjoy his touch that you missed so much.

It’s cute. It’s real. It’s here.

“I never minded. Everyone wants to stay young, don’t they?” Your giggle sounds like a sweet chime, so light and everything he had been wanting to hear.

You noticed. Noticed his quiet grievance and the way he looked at you. Silence encases the both of you. Why? Does he just not know what to say?

His throat hurts, and his eyes feel like they want to sting him. There’s something palpable in this air that makes him want to leave, makes him frustrated and sorrowful.

Why? Why? Why? Isn’t it okay? Everything’s okay, because—

“I missed you,” Your head plops onto his chest as your arms encircle his waist, the soft smell of that familiar, clean linen makes him dizzy, makes his voice hoarse. “Don’t go so far away anymore, please.”

A plead. So desperate and sad, so begging and soft that makes his knees weak. Sunlight catches on glistening blue, and his hands slowly, but surely find enough strength to hold you tight.

That’s his line, you know?

(“Huh? That’s all I get after so long?” He’s still cheeky, still has that impishness to his tone despite the slightly scratchy response. His arms hold you to him tight, pulls you close and held you like you were going to disappear.

You think he’s gonna cry. But at the same time, you know he’s too stubborn to do so.

“Hmm~ Suguru said that we can’t spoil you too much too fast.” Your voice is slightly muffled, contemplative as your hand reaches up to pat at a head of fluffy white now that he had hidden his face away into the curve of your neck.

But Suguru won’t know, right?

“Welcome home, Satoru.”)

——

“Oki~ Nawa! Okinawa!~” Several luggages drag behind him as the boy bounds towards the boarding line, dressed to the nines in beach wear as a younger girl holds onto the handles of the luggage she sat atop of.

(Those flower covered swim shorts of his would give her an eyesore if she stared too long.)

“Haibara-kun, they’re gonna catch up!” Yet, the blue-eyed girl still tugs at those loud shorts, trying to make her ‘carriage’ move all the faster as a panicking Kuroi follows closely.

“Riko! Don’t run so quickly in the halls! You’re going to fall off!”

“Osu! Riko-cchi, get ready to experience the joyride of a lifetime!”

“W-Wait…!”

“Kento, Geto-senpai, everyone! Hurry up back there or we’ll leave you behind! Wahoo!” It’s his final warning as he takes off with the girl in tow, their cheers loud and resounding loudly through these airport hallways.

It’s weird. Cathartic. Gojo Satoru thinks it’s odd that he feels like this, this feeling like he was swimming through a sky of a dream that he thought was going to disappear forever.

(If this was a dream… Then he supposes that he never wants to wake up.)

“Suguru, I think we should’ve gotten another luggage after all…” He hears your pensive words as Suguru lifts your heavy baggage off and away from your hands, gently confiscating anything that dared put strain on you.

“You packed well and enough,” A hand pats your head. “Don’t worry too much.”

(“Ahh! You saying that is going to make me panic even more…!”

A laugh, and the sound of a light peck against your forehead. “Sorry, then.”)

“Satoru? What’s wrong?” Both of you notice him— Watch him as he starts to lag behind, the sound of his flip-flops slapping against the carpeted ground coming to a halt.

(“Should we have bought another box of mochi after all?”

“Yaga would’ve yelled at us for not meeting him at the gate on time…”)

He twitches his fingers, stares up at the large windows that stared out into a plethora of planes. There, sat the setting sun and the orange sky, painted in colours that just wasn’t the regret his older self had gotten so used to.

Maybe this is real.

So it’s okay. It’s finally okay for him to be happy. It’s okay for him to be selfish, to be able to indulge in this happiness that he feels so guiltless for receiving. So he can only smile that much smugly to himself, folding his arms behind his head as he grins so haughtily at the both of you.

“Nothin’ much.”

(“Oiiii! Gojo-senpai! If ya don’t hurry up, Riko-chan and I are gonna order allllll the airplane food on your card! Then we’re gonna eat it all with (last name)-senpai!”)

nvy’s aftertalk:

i can’t upload this to ao3 bcs my pc is broken :(