#originally wanted to use them in the other birthday set but ended up using only close-ups there so here you have them separately | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

sweatervest-obsessed · 6 months ago

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Can You Come Around

Steve Harrington x Fem!Reader

pairing: modern!steve harrington x modern!fem!reader

wc: 2629

cw: mad flirting, swearing, alcohol, drinking, weed, smoking, mentions of cheating, men being weird, smut, 18+ mdni, fingering, teasing

a/n: set in modern times with the reader as the front woman of a new band in NYC. hope you guys like it!!

steve masterlist

“Goddamn” Eddie whispered as they all stared up at the stage.

It was Robin’s twenty-first birthday, causing everyone to meet up in New York City. Since Robin was the last of the eldest teens to turn of legal drinking age, the group decided to go on a small trip in honor of the momentous occasion.

A four day trip with four of Steve’s closest friends—what could possibly go wrong.

Originally? Nothing.

Wednesday and Thursday went off without a hitch. Seeing as her birthday was Wednesday, they spent the night bar hopping, snagging free drinks from those who were feeling generous enough to donate to their celebration, and snagging as many free desserts from as many restaurants as possible.

Then Friday night hit. Abandoning their original plan to try this bar near NYU that Nancy had been raving about, they found themselves in some other part of Greenwich, at this random bar that Eddie just had to go to.

You see, the group had run into one of Eddie’s old friends on Thursday, and he wouldn’t stop raving about this random band that only Eddie seemed to have heard about. And that’s when Eddie turned to look at the group.

“No.”

“Nancy—”

“I said no Eddie, this was the plan–”

At one point he even got on his knees and pleaded with Nancy.

She eventually caved when Eddie offered to sponsor her drinks for the rest of her trip.

Which is how they found themselves packed in the back corner of this surprising large space. It had to have spanned across two buildings since it was just this giant, underground hall that was covered in drawings, in stickers, in posters, in murals, in graffiti—dark, but not dingy, which Nancy and Robin greatly appreciated. Once the group had managed to snag a table in the back, and gotten their drinks, they all started talking to one another.

It was loud, but since there was no music playing, they could still hear one another pretty well.

That was until your band walked on stage the crowd of college kids roared.

To say that Steve was completely and utterly entranced by you was an understatement. The roaming lights around the audience would catch his eyes every now and again, but it didn’t matter if he was being blinded since he could only see you anyways.

As you greeted the audience, Eddie elbowed Steve slightly in an ‘I told you so’ manner. “You’re going to fucking love them man.”

Steve only nodded in response, watching your smile broaden with each roar of applause from the crowd.

The night went on like this, Steve being completely despondent from all conversations happening at the table, and the group making fun of his infatuation. He barely even finished the beer in his hand, only able to focus on the sound of your voice filling up every available inch of room. It was hard to not breathe you in with every single inhale he took.

As the night was winding down, the crowd only grew. But as all good things, your performance had to come to an end. Your voice rang out.

“New York!”

They roared in response to you.

“I just want to thank you all for coming out tonight to support me and my friends. At the end of the day we’re just a bunch of idiot twenty-two years old that fucking love music, and we’re so grateful you guys decided to come out and support us tonight.”

Steve heard Eddie scream over his shoulder with the rest of the crowd.

“Now, we only have one song left in our set–I know I know it’s devastating but some of us wanna get fucked up too.”

The opening chords of the song rang out and Steve swore he was going to go deaf. He had never actually felt sound before, but there was a first time for everything.

Nancy whacked Eddie’s shoulder. “I fucking love this song, why didn’t you lead with that?”

Eddie’s eyes grew wide as your voice floated over.

Can you come around? Fuck me nice.

“You know—you LIKE–this song?”

Pull my hair. Sing me lullabies.

“Eddie, we listened to it in the van on the way here..”

And we can pretend that we're in love.

Steve blocked out the rest of their conversations and zeroed in on the thrumming of his pulse as you continued to sing.

“When you come around, I’ll wear red. And I’ll forget all the awful things you’ve ever said. And we can pretend that we're in love.”

Singing has been a passion of yours from a very young age. You were in vocal lessons the second you turned four, and dance lessons by five. Your parents were certain you were going to be the next broadway triple threat. You had even picked up the guitar and piano by age seven. But by the time you hit middle school, you had become more interested in writing, in poetry. You dropped the dance lessons and picked up drum lessons instead, much to the chagrin of your father. Writing poetry turned into writing music, and suddenly you were sneaking off to go to concerts every night, finding ways to get into bars to see local singers and bands. It was exhilarating watching people pursue their passion.

You found your bandmates in your first semester at Columbia. You had been in the wrong place at the right time, finding out that one of your lab partners could also play the guitar and the bass. And then you found out she knew someone who played the drums who was looking for a few people to hangout with. Then you found out that the drummer's sister was a keyboardist who was over at NYU. And NYU’s roommate? Well she just so happened to be one of the greatest guitar players you had ever heard.

That’s when you guys started playing and writing music together.

“Until I throw a punch and you call me a cunt and that tips me over the edge. Ah, you throw my phone out the window. The next thing the neighbor says she’s calling’ the feds, and I wish you were dead. For a sec. I wish you dead. “

You couldn’t help but feel as though someone had shot electricity through your veins. Any time you stepped out on that stage, it was as if the world shifted under your feet and suddenly you could feel every single pulse of every single person in the audience.

Tonight was no exception. You had officially released two EPs with collections of songs on them over the past few years, but a few weeks ago, your band had signed with an agent, who was able to get you more gigs, better gigs. She was incredible.

Exactly a week ago, you had released your first ever single with a label. Your EPs were listened to, and you were an up-and-coming group to look out for, for sure, but you had never had a single before.

It blew up.

“But you come around. At ten pm. We watch tv. We break the bed.”

Tonight was the first time you were singing the single live, and hearing the entire audience screaming the words back to you took your breath away. You almost forgot the next words since you were so baffled at just how many people knew your songs, how many people knew the words.

And we can pretend that we're in love. We can pretend that we’re in love.”

You couldn’t help as your eyes roamed the entire audience the whole night, but during this final song, you locked eyes with someone in the back.

He had these gorgeous eyes that only showed for a brief second as the light that had roamed over him, before it moved on and he was gone again.

Your heart almost jumped into your throat and your stomach flipped. Who the fuck was this man, and how did you find him once you finished singing this song?

This song was written over the course of twenty-seven minutes.

About four months ago, your relationship of three years had decided that you weren’t enough. And instead of ending it all proper-like, he decided to go and fuck some random girl in his ethics class.

The irony was not lost on you.

For a sec. I wish you dead. I wish you were dead.

After you had finished performing, you went backstage, congratulating your bandmates, but your mind was somewhere else. It was in the back of the venue with one of the most gorgeous men you had ever seen in your life.

At the same time, Steve Harrington was running through all of the ways he would be able to find you in this crowd. He wasn’t about to tell his friends he was running off to find you, since it was Robin’s birthday night after all, but he wasn’t about to not take the chance.

“They’re fucking amazing…” Robin slurred out a little bit, having had six shots in the past ten minutes. Wearing a “It’s my birthday” sash in a bar is all fun and games until you receive your tenth tequila shot and eighth free margarita from kind strangers.

“Alright…maybe we should…”

Steve and Eddie chuckled at the sound that emanated from Robin’s mouth. He was sure if he put in the effort, he could translate it to a negative response to Nancy’s suggestion.

“I’ll be right back Eds, while Nance and Johnny take Robin back. I know you wanted to stay out a little longer.” He muttered to Eddie before heading off, towards the hallway near the side of the venue.

Steve found a bouncer near the end of the hallway who was smoking a cigarette and nodded outside. “Do you mind if I…?”

The guy shook his head. “Knock twice to be let back in, yeah?”

Steve nodded and headed outside, reaching into his pocket to pull out a joint from the small container in his pocket.

Just as he did so, he heard a cough from beside him. “You don’t happen to have a…”

As Steve looked up, your voice trailed off. The rest of your sentence didn’t matter since you were face to face with the mystery man from the back of the room.

“Hey you’re–” Steve pointed at you before realzing how fucking dumb he must sound. But you just shrugged and nodded.

“Yeah. How’d you like the show?”

Steve held the lighter up and lit the joint that was in your hand. “Loved it.”

“Yeah?”

All you could notice was how gorgeous his eyes were again, stunned into a moment of hesitation with words since you were absolutely too mesmerized by him.

“Great fucking show.”

That and his hands. You would let those fucking hands do anything to you.

“Think so?”

Steve nodded, and bit his lip as he looked you up and down shamelessly.

You come around. Fuck me nice. Pull my hair. Sing me lullabies.

You shoved Steve up against a wall, lips against his. He tasted like weed and whatever beer he had been drinking earlier.

His hands cupped your ass as the two of you began to make out in the dimly lit alley behind the venue.

No other words needed.

Your body rolled reflexively against his, causing him to moan softly into your mouth.

“Just gonna kiss me pretty boy or…” You muttered as you kissed across his jaw, sucking and leaving marks all across his neck.

Steve took the opportunity to roll the both of you against the wall so now his body pressed yours up against it.

His hands had moved from your back to your hips, squeezing them ever so slightly as to get more of a rise out of you.

It was working.

He slipped one of his hands down the curve of your hip and to the front of your jeans, unzipping them as you moaned into his mouth. The fingers that had previously been on his neck were now twisted in his hair.

Steve’s pointer finger slid up your panties, causing your whole body to jolt at the touch of him between your thighs.

“Please…fuck…P-Please.”

His lips trailed down your cheek and towards your neck.

The feeling of his hand so close to your pussy and the fanning of his breath over your neck was enough to almost send you over the edge right then and there.

Steve knew better than to keep you waiting. Brushing aside your underwear with his thumb, he pressed a finger up into your core.

Steve’s eye’s grew darker at the feeling of how completely soaked you were, just for him.

Your hips rocked back and forth slightly, trying to get him to move, trying to get the friction.

Steve took the hint and dug his finger in further, getting up to his knuckle in pussy.

Once Steve had thouroughly fucked you with just one finger, he decided to add another. And then another, causing you to tug even more on his hair.

Steve decided right then and there, he loved the feeling of your squirming on his hand while you yanked the shit out of his hair.

“F-fuck–shit I’m…I’m so..”

Steve started rapidly curling his fingers inside of you, over and over and over again, brushing against your g-spot over and over and over again.

His other hand came up to your mouth and he slowly pushed his two middle fingers inside, causing you to slightly choke on them, and then moan.

It was muffled by the digits in your mouth, but it was the final straw that caused your orgasm to snap your body in half. Choking slightly on one hand, and your pussy convulsing on his other, you had ascended to heaven.

A man had never made you cum just by fingering you before.

In the midst of your orgasm, body spasming at Steve’s fingers contined to fuck your insides, that Steve was probably just a god—a sex god really. No man could be this handsome and fuckable, while also being phenomenal at sex.

Eventually as your body calmed down, and Steve removed his hand from your mouth, you felt his lips on yours. Your hand instantly shoved him hard against your lips, feeling the need to feel something of his skin on yours.

He slowly circled his fingers causing your body to let out another moan, sending a shiver up your spine.

After a few moments Steve pulled away, and you opened your eyes to take another look at the man standing with you. As you did so, he very gently pulled his hand out, looking you in the eyes the whole time.

You might as well had cum a second time right then and there as he slowly slipped his fingers, covered in your orgasm, into his mouth. If you thought about it too much, you were sure you basically drooled right then and there for this man.

“You…”

Steve raised his eyebrows at the fact that the woman he had just heard singing her heart out was now speechless at him.

“Me?”

“You’re coming back to my apartment.”

“Oh?”

You nodded and slid one of your hands down to zip up your jeans and fix your shirt. Not that it mattered since you looked like you had just been fucked to heaven and back in an alley.

Not even a moment later, just as Eddie was leaving the club he received a text from Steve:

Dont wait up

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lazyneonrabbitt · 7 months ago

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A biker's true loves

Funny Sonny x reader | SMUT🔞

Request: can you do a story with funny sonny before his teeth got all messed up, younger and with female reader. super smutty. then maybe time jump and they are still together even after his looks have changed?

Sonny couldn't stop shaking beside you, his usual charms completely overrun by childlike wonder as you stepped into the bikeshop. He had gotten his license not long ago and the two of you had saved up enough to get him his own bike for his birthday, working full time jobs and making sure not to spend a lot on takeout and other unnecessary things.

"That's quite the commitment you're making there, kid. You sure you're up for it?" The salesman was clearly toying with him, looking atthe way he was all smiles and banter, bjt Sonny kept happily rambling on about all his research and his long time planning everything. Basically you heard his entire life story before you even got to the specific bike he had chosen to get.

Then the conversation moved far away from your knowledge and into technical stuff, so far you zoned out for a bit.

Only when it came to paying you were back to reality to round off the whole deal and listen to the salesman's information.

When everything was said and done you cautiously followed Sonny home in your car, after he'd complained about you not riding with him for fifteen more minutes once you were outside.

"Sonny, if you knew you wanted to ride home together, we should have taken the bus." You jingled your car keys in front of you. "Can't really leave it here, ya know."

On the way home you had all the privacy to come up with a changed plan for the day. Originally you'd planned to put on some cute lingerie and spend the rest of the day fucking and ordering his favorite takeout, but you knew that plan went to shit the second he brought home that bike. It was his main love for now, with you in close second place.

But that did make it easy to go past him at home to still change into that cute set you bought, but now needing to wear his favorite jacket over it so you'd be covered enough as you stepped ouside behind your shared trailer where Sonny his bike under the extended roof.

"Hey baby." You stepped over to where he sat crouched next to his bike, softly dragging your hand over his broad back, onto his shoulder and ending on his cheek, making him look up at you.

"Shit, today keeps gettin' better huh." He smirked up at you, a hand trailing up the back of your thigh to grab a handfull of your ass and kissing up your thigh. He slowly got to his knees and kept kissing upward on your front, biting at your chest as he stood up. He was practically devouring you, all teeth and tongue from your lips to your chest and back, leaving marks all over your flesh.

"All this for me?" Sonny's stubble scratched your cheek as he smiled, whispering in your ear.

"Anything for you, baby." You draped your arms around his shoulders, lacing your fingers in his hair and tugging at the roots. In return is hands went back to groping your ass, moving down to your thighs and lifting you up against him.

With a squeal you tightened your grip on him as he hauled you on top of his bike, laying you down over the tank and followed suit, sitting down on the seat.

In this position you could feel his hard-on press against you, making you roll your hips ina teasing matter. "All of this for me?" You mimicked his tone from before and earned a smug grin in return.

"Only for you, baby." Sonny's grip tightened around your hips as he ground your hips together, earning a soft moan from you.

"You can do better than that, lemme hear ya." He leaned down to grab your tits and pull them free from your bra, still grinding his hard cock against your clothed pussy as he kissed you deeply.

His hands left a burning trail, fueling the need for him to use you to his heart's content.

"S.. Sonny, please fuck me." You whined, no shame to be found. Your neighbors already knew you fucked like rabbits, and Sonny's other favorite thing to do was to show you off. The jacket you had on now hung loose over your shoulders, your legs wrapping around his hips to pull him in closer. "I need you, baby.."

Sonny's hands trailed down, one to undo his jeans and one to sneak under your lacy panties. Gathering your slick on his fingers he pulled them away from you again and licked them clean. He moaned at the taste. "So good, wanna have it for every meal."

With his cock pulled free he moved your panties to the side and rubbed his length between your folds.

"Please, baby.." Desperation was dripping from your every word. Needy and squirming against his hard cock.

"Please what? Words, love." His teasing continued as he waited for you to speak up, rubbing his tip across your entrance.

"Please use me, Sonny I want you to fuck me.." With a chuckle and a pat on the thigh you were rewarded with the press of his cock inside of you, inch by inch with every thrust of his hips. "Good girl."

The drag of his length against your sensitive walls had you mewling, grabbing at his broad shoulders to ground yourself. The way you clamped around him with every thrust, meeting him halfway with your own roll of your hips was pulling him closer and closer to the edge, grunting and groaning. Every shove of his body against yours had the imprints of the tank press further into your back but you didn't care. He felt too good to care about anything else.

Sonny moved his hand off your hip to skillfully rub at your clit, knowing exactly what to do to get you crying out, clenching around him as you came. The clench of your walls made him groan out, only lasting a couple more thrusts before finishing as well.

Over the years Sonny's love for bikes and the culture around them only grew. The plans of saving up for a house going down the drain with his new lifestyle.

To outsiders it may even have looked like Sonny only had one love, his bike. But the ones who were familiar with him all knew that was far from the truth.

Sonny not much longer found a group of likeminded folk, coming home adorning their sigil on his back after seeing them a couple of times.

From that day on he never went anywhere without it. The sleeveless denim was a part of him as much as he was part of the club.

What started as a hobby had slipped into a lifestyle, but he made sure to never exclude you. Anyone who knew Sonny knew you as well, and knew to keep their hands to themselves or they'd earn themselves a beating.

Over the years, as the denim earned more patches, pins and other accessoires, Sonny's hair grew long and his time on the road had him smoke way more and forget basic daylies like brushing his teeth.

You watched it take its toll, but you never tried to force him into fixing it.

He'd be enough of a gentleman to still only smoke outside, and always carry mints on the road if you traveled together.

Yeah, Sonny these days looked nothing like the boy you fell in love with all those years ago, but he was still your Sonny.

"Ain't that right, baby?" A hand smacking your ass pulled you from your thoughts and almost made you drop the can from your hands. It earned you a laugh and a kiss to the temple, his hand snaking around yiur waist to pull you in closer. "Wanna share with the boys what ya were daydreaming about?"

You looked around the group, seeing all the bikers standing, hanging and sitting around the fire drinking and partying. "Well.." You needed a swig from your drink to get rid of the lump in your throat, suddenly being the centre of attention without seeing it coming.

"You eh.. mentioned how long we'd been together before." Figgeting with the can lid you glanced up at Sonny beside you. "My mind kinda drifted off to when you got your first bike." You tried to hide your blush after insinuating what exactly you were talking about. Because everyone knew what you were talking about. Sonny was so proud of you, he often overshared after a few drinks.

"Sonny, man. Can't believe you haven't married that one yet!" One of the older bikers commented, one who had known the two of you for all that time. Cheers and agreeing yowls went through the whole group, only shushing when you made a dismissive noise. "Neh, y'all know Sonny's married to his bike already." Your arm wrapped around him and squeezed him affectionately. "There's no way I can beat her!"

Another fit of laughs erupted from the bikers, but all Sonny could do was stare at you with raised brows and a smile. "If you want me on my knees for you, all you gotta do is ask."

It was crazy how Sonny always managed to be the most lovable guy and the most disgusting idiot at the same time. "Oh baby," you turned to stand in frknt of him, making sure everyone could get a good look of the two of you, especially the young ones who were still easy to gross out. "you bet you're gonna be on your knees for me tonight.."

The can in your hands, still half full fell to the ground. The noise attracting even more eyes before your hands founds his jacket and beard, tugging to make him bend down to your level and shoving your tongue down his throat.

A mixture of cheers, laughs and grossed out reactions rung through the air at your display. Sonny's smirk was clear against the corner of your mouth as he grabbed your ass with both hands and tapped your thigh, signailing you to jump.

Soft giggles escaped you as you buried your face in the crook of Sonny's neck.

"See that, boys?" His large hands still held your weight up against his body, carrying you with ease. "If your woman's your biggest priority, you'll get yourself a prize lady like this one." He gave your thigh a soft pat as he started walk off towards his bike. "We're gonna go have some fun."

The ratty motel everyone was staying at had its parking space littered with bikes, most rooms occupied by the bikers that night. Much to your guys' luck, because if it wasn't for your friends being used to your excessive lovemaking you'd been kicked out before the first hour was up.

"Fuck, Sonny yes.." Your voice echoed through the door of your room, being returned with loud knocking and chants "Quiet down for fuck's sake!" every once in a while.

Not that you were going to be quiet anytime soon, Sonny made a habit of fucking you to sleep when you were out on the road.

"So good, riding my cock like that." Sonny's back was propped up against the pillows. Hands on your hips guiding your pace as you bounced on his lengrh. Moaning and whining, begging to cum. You were so tired, it being deep into the night already but Sonny's energy seemed to be endless.

He started picking up on your fatigue and agreed it was getting time to rest, using his hands to help you over the edge with a long winded whine before finishing himself too a few thrusts later. You collapsed on top of him with a groan that matched his, needing to catch your breaths before Sonny could utter the fist words.

"I need you to marry me.."

#sometimes I write #the bikeriders #funny sonny #bikeriders sonny #funny sonny x reader #bikerisers x reader #smut #daryl dixon x reader

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moon-and-seraph · 1 year ago

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Words into Potions: a month-long writing challenge!

We're excited to announce Moon + Seraph's newest event...

Words into Potions (or, WIP!)

Join us this March 1st - 31st for a month-long writing challenge, where any and all types of writing goals are welcome! Use our event to draft a whole novel, outline a new WIP, finish a short story, or accomplish anything writing-related!

We have lots of exciting freebies to help you along the journey!

Track your milestones on a free, downloadable map

Collect digital writing-themed badges

When you reach your goal, randomly pull 1 of 12 digital tarot-inspired cards

Plus, to celebrate our birthday and the event finale on March 31st, we encourage you to post an introduction of your WIP(s) and a wrap-up of all the progress you made. Tag us and we'll reblog your post!

Optionally, join our Discord server to get more out of the Words into Potions writing challenge!

(Learn more about the server here.)

Earn special Discord roles by doing writing sprints

Participate in a weekly writing marathon, where we collectively try to reach a larger goal

Weekly WIP question trades, where we talk about each other's stories and encourage each other to keep writing

Share links to any progress updates you post on Tumblr in our dedicated event promotion channel, and we'll reblog them here

For a sneak peek at our free rewards and more details, read on below!

If you're going to participate or just want to help spread the word, please give this post a reblog! It's very hard for posts to be seen on Tumblr right now, and we really, really want this to find as many writers as possible.

Take a peek at a small section of our milestone map!

As you journey to your writing goal in March, you can also journey through a forest and collect different ingredients from mythical characters, creatures, and locations! Our map milestones are percentage based, which means they'll work for any goal you choose. Whether it's words, pages, hours, or anything else!

This is a super high-res file, so you'll be able to set it as your desktop wallpaper, zoom-in on all the details, and even print it as a poster!

Find our milestone map here!

Find details for printing here!

Here's 3 of our 38 writing badges, designed just for this event!

When we get closer to March we'll release a full list of our badges for you to reference and download throughout the month, or if you're in our Discord server, we'll have an automated system for you to claim your badges!

We encourage you to share the badges you earn on Tumblr, along with your progress! Please @ us in your posts if you do, so we can reblog and encourage you!

Find our writing badges here!

Reach your goal, and randomly pull 1 of 12 digital, tarot-inspired cards!

These are digital, downloadable cards that you can share on Tumblr, set as a phone lock-screen, and even print! We'll have size options for different desktop/phone wallpapers, as well as some dark mode versions!

Find our Winner's Cards here!

Things to Know:

Words into Potions begins on March 1st 2024 and ends on March 31st 2024.

This event is geared toward original fiction writers, but all are welcome to participate.

Our Discord server is 18+ only, with no exceptions.

Our milestone map is free for personal use, but under no circumstances are you allowed to use it for commercial use (any situation in which you profit, financially or otherwise). You may not modify it in any way that obscures the Moon + Seraph watermark, and you may not claim that you created it.

Our writing badges are also free for personal use, but not commercial use, and you can't claim that you created them.

Our tarot-inspired card rewards are also free for personal use, but not for commercial use, and you can't claim that you created them.

Have questions? Send us an ask!

We're very excited about this writing challenge, so we're more than happy to answer any questions you have!

#MS: WIP #writeblr #writing community #writers of tumblr #writers on tumblr #writing events #writing event #writing challenge

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toomuchracket · 11 months ago

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it's only been a year (birthday party matty x reader fluff)

surprise! happy 1st anniversary of the blog, and therefore to these fuckers. love you all. enjoy <3

matty’s so glad you're here.

not that he doesn't love his job, because he really, really does - and, to be honest, playing music for lovely people with his best friends has never felt like a proper shift to him - but the touring sparkle is starting to fade a bit now. it's been nonstop for almost two years, the end of this album cycle is in sight, and, as much as he hates to admit it, he's not as young as he once was. the tiredness catches up to him faster, because the adrenaline doesn't last as long, and all the dancing around is taking a bit more of a toll on his body than it used to (which reminds him: put the knee support on before travelling tomorrow). what used to be hours-long hedonistic afterparties have turned into staying backstage for a couple of drinks at most, before hurrying to the hotel for a hot shower to soothe the muscles in the voice and the rest of the body, and then getting as much sleep as possible. arguably, not particularly rock'n’roll, nor very exciting.

but you're here. at the shows, on the planes and trains and buses, and, currently, cueing up an episode of derry girls from the bed in matty's (well, both of your) hotel room. and because you are, the sparkle is still there, still glimmering away like glitter under strobe lights. he's not in the habit of quoting or relating to abba songs (although it's been happening more often recently, probably because of your love for mamma mia), but matty thinks they hit the nail on the head in super trouper - he truly cannot be sad knowing you're in the crowd, seeing you dance along to his songs and smile at him like he hung the moon.

wrapping the towel around his waist, matty steps out of the bathroom, and immediately smiles (probably gormlessly) at the sight of you, frowning cutely as you try to get netflix to load; his heart melts when you push up your glasses, then turn to beam at him when you catch a glimpse of him from the corner of your eye. “hi, baby. how you feeling?”

“tired,” matty sighs, smiling again when you climb off the bed and peck him on the lips, before tugging him into a cuddle. he hums. “thanks, sweetheart.”

“s'ok,” you press a kiss to his chest tattoo, a move so tender that it never fails to weaken his knees. “d'you want me to make you a hot chocolate while you get ready for bed?”

matty pulls back to look at you, brow furrowed. “we have hot chocolate?”

“there's a setting for it on the coffee machine.”

“there is? i didn't notice.”

“yeah, it's in french.”

“oh,” matty laughs, kissing your head. “this is really a recurring thing for us, isn't it? you keeping me right with drinks in europe because you're the only one of us who can speak french. thank god you were a pretentious teenager, darling.”

you blink at him. “you're taking the piss out of me for being a pretentious teenager?”

“well, i’m not the one who learnt another language so i could read the original text of les mis,” matty smirks. “how's that going, by the way?”

your face takes on the adorably bashful expression matty loves so much. “haven't even finished it in english yet,” you say, before crumbling into laughter that matty can't help joining in on - fuck, he loves you so much. when he tells you as much, you kiss him again. “i love you, too. now - hot choc, or no?”

“i'll take one, please, darling.”

“okay,” you kiss his nose, beaming at the way he scrunches it when you do. “can you see if you can get netflix to work once you're dressed, please, babe?”

“course, darling.”

“thank you, lover.”

there's a final kiss, then you let go of matty and wander to the coffee machine; as silly as it sounds, because you're only about three feet away from him, he misses you as soon as you leave his arms. having you in them, being in yours… that's matty's favourite thing in the world, and he'd gladly sacrifice most other things in life to have it for five minutes longer every morning and night, ten more minutes per day of him just being yours and you just being his.

although, looking at you now, it's so clear that those things are true even without him holding you - the hoodie you're wearing is an old one of his (that honestly looks better on you), the boxers you're wearing as pyjama shorts are his, and he's preeeeetty sure the overly-long nike sports socks you're wandering around in are also his. he gives parts of himself to you, and you accept them gladly, proudly displaying that you're completely his; in heart and mind and soul, too, not just in wardrobe.

he still can't get over that. he doesn't think he ever will.

once he's dressed (clothes warm, because you were sweet enough to put them on the radiator for him) and the tv has loaded properly, matty settles into bed, beaming at you as you wander over with his drink and giggling when you place it on the bedside table and just crawl over him to get to your side of the bed. he kisses the side of your head as you snuggle into him. “you're not having one, darling?”

“nah,” you let out a world-weary sigh. “i've had far too much chocolate today as is. remind me never to agree to going to a gig in switzerland ever again. s'awful for my digestion.”

matty laughs. “or you could just, you know, not eat chocolate.”

you frown adorably at him. he laughs again. “or not.”

“thank you,” your face softens. “s'good, though. try the hot chocolate, see for yourself.”

“right,” matty takes a sip, humming happily at the rich sweetness. “mhmm. yeah.”

“amazing, isn't it?”

he nods, swallowing, then grins. “nowhere near as sweet as you, though.”

“oh, you sap!” you roll your eyes, tucking your face into matty’s chest in mild embarrassment while he giggles; he can feel you smiling through his t-shirt, though. “put the telly on, i can't cope.”

he obliges, free hand coming up to stroke your hair as you watch the episode in relative calm - that is, aside from the two of you constantly laughing at the onscreen antics, and from you covering matty's mouth in an attempt to stop him doing his god-awful impression of a northern irish accent. the whole experience is really domestic, as sweet as the hot chocolate matty finished ten minutes into the episode, the perfect end to a busy work day.

matty stretches when the episode ends, moving to wrap his arms around your waist and rest his head on your chest. “time is it, sweetheart?”

“ten past midnight,” you yawn; suddenly, though, you perk up. “oh! happy anniversary, baby!”

he smiles into your chest, dragging himself up to hover over you. “happy anniversary, my girl,” he coos, thumbs stroking your pretty face. “i love you.”

“i love you,” you smile. “kiss, please?”

matty nods, leaning down to press his lips to yours; on instinct, you open your mouth as soon as he does, soundtracked by a sigh that makes his head spin. even now, a year on from it, every kiss you share feels like the very first one up against the wall in the smoking area, full of passion and adrenaline and just total love and devotion that you'd both kept buried for each other for years. the only difference is that now, 365 days on, you know exactly how to kiss matty to make him melt - a moan slips from his throat as you softly swipe your tongue around the perimeter of his lips, which in turn makes you smile, and another follows when you gently bite his lower lip and drag it to release. but it's the way you beam at him afterwards, breathing just as heavily as he is, that gets matty most, makes him hug you as tightly as he can and press little kisses all over your face and hair and get you giggling (his favourite sound in the world).

once you've both caught your breath, kissed some more, and caught your breath again, you speak. “d'you want your anniversary present now, baby?”

matty grins. “yeah. you want yours?”

“yeah,” you beam. reaching across to your bedside table, you take out a little wrapped gift and hand it to him. “for you.”

“thank you, sweet girl,” matty kisses your forehead, rolling off you to pull a thin box from his bag at the side of the bed. “for you.”

“thanks, darling,” you kiss him softly. “go on, you open yours first.”

“alright,” matty carefully rips the brown paper - after smiling, lovesick, at for the love of my life written on it in your unmistakable handwriting - to find what looks like a zine, small enough to fit in his back pocket. he laughs in slight shock at the cover, displaying both of your first initials in a heart and subtitled year one, and this continues when he flicks through the pages. the very first has a picture of the two of you at that fateful birthday party, taken by a friend across the table, as well as one of the receipt for dinner, with little hearts drawn on either side of the listing for your favourite wine; the next, a short typed-out musing ‘written on matty's couch. he's in love with me. he knows i'm in love with him. i've never been so happy in my life. i fell asleep thinking my heart might burst, and that feeling hasn't left me at all. this is true love. i know it now’.

flicking through the pages - he so badly wants to spend time poring over every single one, but he knows now isn't the time - matty feels the exact same way. you've always been shockingly good at gift-giving when it comes to him, but this… this is the best thing anyone's ever done for him.

he doesn't even think love is a strong enough word to describe how he feels about you, to be honest.

you smile when he tells you as much, lifting his hand to kiss it. “i'm glad you like it, baby. i had a lot of fun compiling everything. it was just constant reminders of how much i love you - although, i agree, it's not a strong enough word. maybe i should come up with an alternative. like how coleridge did with soulmate.”

“thank fuck he did, by the way,” matty sighs, leaning in to kiss you. “what would i call you otherwise?”

“i'm sure you'd figure it out. you're very good with words.”

“not when it comes to you, darling,” he smiles. “and that's actually relevant to your gift, so…”

“point taken,” you wink, lifting the lid. your beautiful face takes on a confused expression as you lift out a thin, a3-sized hardback book. “this looks like one of your lyric books from stage…”

“it does, a bit, yeah.”

“...and it has my name on the front,” your jaw drops, and you open the book so frantically that matty can't help but giggle; he laughs even harder when you look up at him, aghast. “this is a score. you wrote me a song?”

“kind of, sweetheart. i mean, i've written you lots of songs already-”

“but none explicitly with my name!”

“no, that's true,” matty moves to sit behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist. he feels you relax immediately, which is good, because for a second he thought you were about to go into genuine shock. “and this one is slightly different in another way, too.”

“it is?”

“yeah. look - there aren't any lyrics,” he takes your hand in his own, dragging your finger over the score to show blankness where the words would appear over the stave. “when i said a minute ago that i wasn't good with words when it comes to you, i mean it. you're literally the only person in the world that can render me speechless; trying to concisely convey everything i love about you in words that 1) made sense and 2) worked in a song was impossible. so i figured i would just let the music do the talking,” matty kisses your head. “no lyrics, parts for almost a full orchestra plus the instruments i'm used to writing for… this isn't a song, darling, it's a symphony, the one that plays in my head whenever i think about you.”

“matthew,” your voice is shaky when you say his name; when you turn to look at him, he notices your jaw is too, the telltale sign that you're about to burst into tears. “i think you're absolutely fucking mental. and i love you, i love you, i love you,” your voice cracks into a sob on the last you, and you bury your face in your boyfriend's neck while you cry. “that's the most romantic thing anyone could do, i think, and you did it for me. what the fuck!”

matty giggles, caressing your back and kissing your head soothingly. “s'the least i could do, really.”

“oh, shut up.”

“alright,” he coaxes you out of hiding, wiping your tears away and kissing your nose. “i'll play it for you when we get to a piano tomorrow, yeah?”

“i'd like that,” you peck his lips. “thank you, my love.”

“you're welcome, darling. and thank you for the little zine about us - can't wait to read that tomorrow, too.”

you nod happily - suddenly, your eyes widen. “wait! that reminds me: i got you something else too. and i want us to use them tomorrow.”

“let's see, then,” matty sits up in anticipation, but almost immediately slumps back down exasperatedly when he sees the rolling papers in your hand. “baby…”

“what? it's on-theme!” you grin. “it’s paper! the thing you're meant to give and get to celebrate a first anniversary. and, let's be serious, it was me wanting to smoke that got us here, wasn't it?”

“you’re incorrigible, sweetheart,” matty shakes his head, hand tracing patterns into your thigh; he can't help but smile, though. “but alright - tomorrow, at some point, we'll smoke.”

“promise?”

“for fuck's sake,” he sighs. “i promise, even though i think you're demented.”

you beam. “thanks. i love you!”

“i love you, too, darling.”

#mads muses #mads does writing #into the birthday partyverse #matty healy fanfiction #matty healy fanfic #matty healy fic #matty healy fluff #matty healy x reader #matty x reader

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thelovelylolly · 7 months ago

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Silver Screen Sweetheart

Summary : You were just his co-star, even if you both wanted to be more, and he thought he lost you to the wasteland. - Warnings : we got some angst, we got some yearning, we got reunions, all your favs, fem! reader (she/her pronouns used), mentions of drinking, canon-typical violence, not rlly proof read (let me know if i missed anything :)) - Word count : 1.17k - Notes : i know i havent posted an original fic in a while, but why not bring them back with cooper howard bc I LOVE COOPER HOWARD AND FALLOUT RAHHHHH this is basically the storyline of my fallout oc lol (also, divider by @saradika-graphics they're so good)

Cooper Howard wasn't supposed to live this long, especially after the bombs dropped. He was a man with a long history. He had fought in a war, became a movie star, got married and had a daughter, became the inspiration for the poster-boy of the company selling the end of the world, divorced is wife, lost his family, became deformed from the radiation. He could go on and on about his past.

However, there was one part he always skipped around.

His old co-star, you.

You walked into his life one sunny afternoon, and he didn't know it then, but it was the start of something he shouldn't want. You were his co-star and played the love interest in one of his movies. Your chemistry on-screen together was amazing, causing fans to want you to return and you quickly became a staple in Cooper Howard movies.

Then, the chemistry bled into real life.

You both knew it, but you both refused to acknowledge it. Cooper was married, and you were a rising star. He couldn't risk his wife and family, you couldn't risk ruining your budding career. So, you danced around each other. Your on-screen characters were the only time you two could lean into the feelings you had, but it was pretend. Acting.

Still, the two of you were close friends off set, so it wasn't uncommon for you two to be spotted together. He'd invite you over for dinner with his wife and daughter, you'd invite him to a party with other movie stars. Everything was simple, easy. It was good.

But all good things must come to an end.

Cooper didn't know where you were when the bombs dropped. He had seen you the night before. He came over to your house for drinks, something he started to do more often now that the divorce was settled and he saw his daughter every other week.

"What are you up to tomorrow?" You had asked.

"I'm picking up Janey, then we're going to a birthday party. Got hired to do some tricks and stuff for the birthday boy."

"Sounds more exciting than what I have on the agenda. My agent wants to talk to me about doing ads, like you and Vault-Tec."

"Want some advice?"

You nodded.

"Don't."

Maybe you had gotten to a vault, or maybe you weren't that lucky. The only thing that helped Cooper with the loss of you was one thought: you wouldn't see him as the deformed ghoul he became.

Cooper's bounty was allusive and turned a usual 2-day hunt in 5. He was getting tired and fed up, rudely asking anyone he came across for directions before shooting them and taking anything of value. One person gave him directions to a small home and said that the person living there had plenty of information and supplies.

Cooper thought 'what the hell' and set off, grabbing a few bottles of chems from the person's dead body.

He found the house pretty easily, having the only green grass and lush trees in the dusty desert around. He readied his pistol at his side as he started to approach the house. He took a few steps onto the property before stepping onto a trap and getting caught up in a net that was hung on the tree.

"Shit!" He hissed, trying to figure away out in the cramped area. He lost his grip on his pistol and he couldn't reach for his knife, leaving him helpless until someone could find him and cut him down.

A horse's neigh caused him to look up where the house was, only to see a person on a sleek, black horse riding towards him. They pulled the horse's reigns and stopped a few feet away from Cooper and got off, a shotgun in hand.

"If I get you down, you gonna shoot me?" The person asked, a feminine voice coming through a black bandana obscuring half of her face. The black hat sitting on top of her head obscured her hair and shaded her face from the beating sun.

"No promises," Cooper replied, grunting as he struggled against the rope net.

"Then I can just leave-"

"I just need some information, I heard you were the person to come to," Cooper quickly cut her off, "I'll leave after that."

He was good at lying. He was an actor after all, as soon as he got what he wanted, he'd raid this woman's home and leave.

The woman in front of him tilted her head to the side for a moment, then raised her shotgun and shot the rope holding Cooper up. He hit the ground with a thud, but quickly untangled himself from the rope. He pushed himself to his feet, but before he could reach for any of his weapons, a lasso was wrapped around him and pulled tight.

"What the hell-"

"Shut it," she said sharply, "I know what kind of a person you are. I know what you really want, many have tried and failed."

Cooper laughed dryly. "Really, sweetheart? You think a little rope would stop me?"

The woman studied him for a moment, her eyes fixed on his face. He didn't know what she was looking for, the radiation took away most of his features.

"Cooper...?" The woman asked after a few moments, shocking him. He opened his mouth to answer, but any words he had were lost as she took off her hat and pulled the bandana down.

You. You were still alive, you still looked like how you did centuries ago. Of course you recognized him, only you could tell it was him after all the radiation and harsh conditions of the wasteland.

His said your name weakly, not believing that you were standing in front of him. He thought he lost you, he thought you were dead from the bombs or lived the rest of your life in a vault. "How are you here?" He asked.

"They froze me in my vault, woke up a few centuries later, and left," you answered, stepping closer but not letting go of the lasso. "I'm surprised you haven't gone feral."

He smiled, the same classic smile that had given you butterflies all those years ago. "I figured out how to survive up here, seems like you have, too."

You nodded, glancing over your shoulder at your home. You looked back at him and stepped closer, pulling the lasso off and hooking it onto the side of your belt. You looked up and met his gaze, noting how close you two were.

"Would you like to stay for a bit?" You asked.

Cooper thought back to his bounty, how long he'd spent chasing this guy and how much he was worth. But seeing you alive and well, not appalled by his appearance, was worth so much more than any stupid bounty.

He reached for your hand and intertwined his fingers with yours. "Sure would, darling."

You smiled and turned, grabbing your horse's reigns before leading Cooper towards your home.

#cooper howard x reader #the ghoul x reader #cooper howard x you #the ghoul x you #fallout fanfic

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yoonia · 3 months ago

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🖋️ I just finished Blooming Wallflowers and felt so sad that it ended so soon! Can we have a snippet of what happens after? are they going to continue seeing each other? will OC's daughter get to be closer to Mista Joonie? 🥺🥺 I want to see them hang out again in a less stressful time (because poor OC always stressing!). it would be cute to have Joon helping her out with the girls again. he can finally have a taste of OC's homecooked meal and she gets to make him dinner for once. that'll be sweet. I just love the concept of home date night 🥺

💌 for my love letter, I just want to say happy belated birthday 🥳 I've been following you for a long time. even if I'm no longer around much on Tumblr, I still come back from time to time and wonder what you'll be sharing this time. It's always exciting to find out that you post something new. your stories always feel so comforting, even when they are the most heart-wrenching angst ever! Your blog and your presence have always felt so positive too. just like how you are creating this lovely event 🥺 I think that's the reason why I still stick around no matter how much negativity has grown on Tumblr, because I know there's at least one writer here who still spreads positivity and exudes a comforting aura just by being here (and that's you!)

I love how you touch on real life issues and how you present them in your stories. even in the short ones, we get to feel the character growing through your fic and it feels really fulfilling to experience it 💜

For Blooming Wallflowers, I loved how you wrote the characters. even the daughters. often fanfics aren't so accurate when it comes to writing children (how they speak, behave, etc) yet you always make these characters feel so real, and I love that 💜🥺

Thank you for sharing your talent with us. I hope you have a wonderful birthday 🎂

Thank you so much for reading Blooming Wallflowers! I'm glad you enjoyed the story and are loving the characters. Your idea made me think of cute moments between Joon, OC, and the girls, but as always, my mind think otherwise the moment I began writing the ficlet haha. Anyway, enjoy your moodboard and this "little" snippet, love!

— title: Dinner with Mista Joonie | pairings: Namjoon x female reader| genre: firefighter!Namjoon, single mom!reader, mature, friends with benefits!au | word count: 1,150 words — summary | Namjoon comes to join you and the girls for dinner. — ratings & warnings | +18 / M for mature; allusion of a one-night stand, memories of hooking up, sexual tension, implied smut scene: public sex, kitchen sex, morning after sex, food play, implied oral sex.

— original: Blooming Wallflowers by @yoonia — fic drop date: Oct 28th, 2024 — song companion: sleepless

“You should’ve let me help.”

His deep voice draws a smile to your face, yet you make no move to turn around. Not even when you can feel him approaching you from behind.

“You’re doing enough to help already,” you answer him as you rinse the last of the dinner plates under the running water. A large hand takes the plates out of your hand right as you are about to slip them into the dishwasher, taking over your work.

“I don’t see how I’m helping,” Namjoon says as he continues setting the dishwasher to do its work so you can get to rest.

You wipe your hands dry using the kitchen towel before handing it to him. “For one, you took my distractions away from me,” you answer with a whisper, nodding towards the living room where your girls are busy flipping between their assortments of storybooks. “What did you tell them so you could escape?”

Namjoon grins. “Hana asked me to read them a story before leaving. I told them to pick a book each that I could read for them.”

Shaking your head, you let out a soft chuckle. “You shouldn’t fall for their puppy eyes. You were only invited to join dinner, not to babysit the girls.”

“It’s well deserved. They’ve been so proud about helping their Mom prepare the delightful dinner tonight,” Namjoon says, shrugging. He moves to rest his hips against the kitchen counter and crosses his arms over his chest, drawing your eyes towards his toned muscles, his t-shirt straining over them, and a flutter rising in your chest. “Thank you for inviting me, by the way.”

The damn flutter goes wild when he says this with a smile. A dimple appears. Your skin grows warm. “It was a pleasure. I’m just honouring a promise I made to you.”

It truly was. Ever since the night at the supermarket, you have wanted to cook for him. Imagining him eating TV dinner after working to save people’s lives—or pets, maybe?—makes you feel bad.

But seeing him tonight at dinner was a whole other matter.

You had expected it to be awkward. A single man sitting with a single mother and her two kids shouldn’t have seemed so normal. And yet, he blended in so nicely at the table. He even didn’t blink an eye every time any of the girls left vying for his attention. From bragging about their roles in helping you set up dinner, to showing off their artwork from today’s class. Even Suzy came out of her shell and chatted with Namjoon, asking him about his job and if firefighters really do get called to take kittens down from trees.

“Well, I’m honouring the meal I received tonight. Step one is pleasing the princesses over there with good storytelling.”

Shaking your head, you turn back to the kitchen sink to wipe down the mess. “I swear you’re too good at this.”

Namjoon comes to you with a deep chuckle, surprising you when he wraps his arms around you from behind.

“What are you doing?” you hiss at him while looking over his shoulder, afraid that your girls would catch their special guest hugging their mother.

“They’re still busy, don’t worry,” he whispers to your ear, deep voice vibrating from his throat, and those harmless flutters travel down south, settling right between your legs.

“Since you said that I’ve done good—” he whispers, his lips brushing at your skin. “Does that mean you’ll finally agree to go on a date with me? I told you, I’m okay if we’re out on a weekday. I’m not always on night shift, and might be working on the weekend anyway.”

You swallow down your words and the tightness in your chest. You promised yourself that the night you spent with him on your bed would be the only time. With so many things going on in your life, this would be the wrong time for you to start anything. Not even with the first hot guy who managed to catch your eye.

But Namjoon has been insistent. Exchanging numbers had given him the chance to text and call regularly, from catching up with your day, to flirting, and often ends with him asking for a date, or a quick hook-up, a quick repeat of your first night. Yet you have been resilient so far in refusing him.

Some part of you have been expecting that he would eventually give up and move on. Another part of you has always known that you will regret everything if you ever let it happen. While the rest keeps reminding you that he doesn’t deserve to be pulled into your mess, even if you really, really like him.

Feigning your disinterest seems to be futile. But then again, immediately continuing your hookup the next morning after you first brought him to your bed during the morning after breakfast might have sent a different message. Because having him finally have a taste of you on the kitchen counter that morning, with him lathering maple syrup on your bare breasts to lick off of your skin instead of pouring them on his pancake, was not the right way to show each other that there was no passion between you once the alcohol wore off.

But, maybe, just maybe, you have always known what that would do to a man who is so persistent in his chase like Namjoon does.

“Will this Wednesday be good?” you find yourself asking once the fight leaves your body. “I’ll be off work early and it’s my Mom’s day to bring the girls to her shop.”

It’s too easy to give in, after all. And you are surprised to find how quickly the weight is lifted from your shoulders once you stop denying your feelings.

You can feel his smile on your skin as he presses a kiss on the side of your neck. A promise. It draws a shudder through your body when you are reminded of what those lips on your skin did to you last time. “That’s my day off. So it’s perfect.”

You open your mouth, ready to turn to face him, when Hana’s voice calls out,

“Mista Joonie!” she yells from the living room, and both of you are quick to separate, right as your little girl comes barrelling into the kitchen with her books. “I found my book!”

Chuckling softly, Namjoon steals a quick peck on your cheek before stepping away. “Duty calls,” he says with a wink, and off he goes to follow Hana back to the living room.

You watch their receding back as they leave you in the kitchen, smiling to yourself as you watch Namjoon listening with rapt attention as your youngest blabber on about her favourite book and how her sister had chosen something just as good for them to read together.

Thank you for your sweet words. your message really means the world to me. And thank you for following me and staying with me for so long. I wouldn't still be here if not for readers like yourself who has been here with me.

Here's my little gift for you 💜

𝖙𝖜𝖎𝖑𝖎𝖌𝖍𝖙 𝖋𝖆𝖑𝖑 𝖘𝖊𝖗𝖊𝖓𝖆𝖉𝖊: dia’s birthday bash 2024 ⇝ closed!

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subarashiihibi · 9 months ago

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HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO MY BEAUTIFUL ANGEL WIFE IZAYA ORIHARA!!!!!!! 🥰😘👨‍❤️‍💋‍👨😭😎🔥🫶🩷

i can't quite put into words what exactly izaya has meant to me over the past 8 years. one, it sounds really corny and i go off into at least 30 different tangents about all the little things that make him so endearing to me, but also i just dont really know how to sound eloquent and stuff. that being said, a lot of the person i am today is (for better or for worse) thanks to izaya, so i think if i leave it at that you can at least get it a little bit. ^_^

i was really excited to set this year's display up. i changed the room i used this time, since i got a new desk, and it was...kind of a challenge at first, but after moving around a bunch of furniture and whatnot, i made it work...!

i had to forego putting up a few other things... namely the rest of my bromides and postcards, but also all my shikishi. i need to invest in some way to display them... i also had two(!!) dakimakura... i had to leave out this year. </3 and the cardboard cutout i made when i was 16. 😭

as usual, i have a lot of stuff to say about this entire thing and the stuff around it, so i... will leave my rambling under the cut. (^□^)

my god putting this thing together was hell. i said 'challenge' earlier no this shit was like a fucking war omfg. the clear files kept falling i was miserable and praying to god (im not even religious). and then i had to tape behind the big izaya balloon poster cause it's covering my doorway and it kept getting pulled back to the door...? and it looked stupid. 🤦‍♂️ i wasn't originally gonna put the tables in here either. i really wanted to be able to fit the bed sheets on the walls. but i couldn't... and i needed more room to put the pillows and stuff, so it ended up working out perfectly.

(the only reason i didn't want to use tables was cause i didn't want something covering up izaya's sexy exposed feet in the china poster... 😟)

i was (finally) gonna get a cake this year, but after having the stress of two exams back to back this week and exams next week, i...was too exhausted lol. hopefully next year i won't have an awful overnight job or school making me miserable. (as if i'm not still gonna be a student next year☠)

the amount of durarara merch that's come out the past few years has left me feeling so spoiled... i hope they do a mail order for the 20th anni merch... i want all the izaya stuff without the crazy markups from resellers online🤬

also plz don't judge my toploader deco skills too much... i am not very experienced... and i also don't have a lot of stickers to work with... 🥺

at any rate... at this exact time last year, i was suffering inside the confines of my local walmart... i was working overnight, and my break was at 12am, so as soon as it hit, i ran out to my car to excitedly celebrate the date changing to may 4th...!

and then during my lunch break, i drove to the whataburger next door and did another 10-pull on the izaya birthday kuji while in the drivethru.

i didn't realize this until i started taking stuff down in my room (this is my bedroom... i can't realistically keep two large tables in here and a poster covering my doorway. i had to crawl under the table just to get in and out. my knees still hurt.), but... i actually forgot something i wanted to include... my izaya lightstick... 💔💔💔 it's okay. i will live. i'm happy with my setup as a whole so i have no qualms with this. i just need to make sure i don't make the same mistake next year.

on a (slightly) unrelated note, yesterday (may 3) was the 19th birthday of my favorite album ever from my favorite band ever, fall out boy's from under the cork tree! i was so happy when i found out it's right before izaya's birthday cause fall out boy as a whole has so many izaya coded lyrics it's crazy. (btw, their debut album tttyg came out on the 6th as well...!)

and then tomorrow is cinco de mayo... it's not a coincidence... latina izaya truthers rise up...

anyways...! i'm finally learning how to draw properly. the reason i was always so miserable when i tried before was cause i never knew what i was doing. i didn't know where to start from. because...i didn't use references...so hopefully i can draw something cute for izaya's birthday next year. ^_^

that's all i have to say...! i woke up early this (yesterday) morning at 9am so i could be there at 10am when midnight hit in japan, and it's already 3am on the 4th, so i'm exhausted lol...

i was so excited seeing all the izaya bday fanart on twitter though. all the beautiful artists making beautiful art...

but i've spoken too much now. sorry. i'm going to spend the rest of my night listening to fall out boy before i eventually pass out. bye bye !!!! ^_^

#drrr!!#izaya #durarara!!#izaya orihara #durarara

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dxncingwithastrxnger · 2 months ago

Text

let your heart be light (Obey Me!)

A/N: Barbatos' story finally!! This is actually a lot shorter than I originally wanted to be, so if the ending seems a little wonky, then that's why. I just wanted to make sure I had enough time to get Solomon's story out today as well as make sure Sol's story is longer than Barbs' since it's his birthday <3 But this one is still really cute! Enjoy!

Pairing(s): Barbatos x MC

Prompt(s): 8. Barbatos

Summary: MC helps the butler of the castle decorate for Christmas

Tag(s): Just some fluffiness and a little bit of MC trying to be helpful and impress Barbatos :D

Word Count: 608

Song Inspiration: Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas by Michael Buble

Not beta'd, all mistakes are my own.

~*~

[Series Masterlist]

[Read on AO3]

[Author Masterlist]

~*~

[1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7] [8] [9] [10] [11] [12] [13] [14] [15] [16] [17] [18] [19] [20] [21] [22] [23] [24] [25] [26] [27] [28] [29] [30] [31]

~*~

It was just a few days into the month of December and the two busiest demons in the Devildom finally found the time to get the castle ready for the holidays up ahead. Of course, they also wanted their favorite human to join them for such an occasion. However, the demon lord still has just a few more things to do that day before he’s fully available, so the first set of decorating tasks are to be done without him, as long as they wait to decorate the trees with me, his favorite part. And so, that’s where the butler and the sorcerer apprentice find themselves that evening, walking through the castle halls with large boxes of decorations both in their arms and trailing behind them, wisps of magic twinkling off of them.

Barbatos hums as they walk, staying close to MC and keeping an eye on them should the pile of boxes they insisted on carrying all of decide to try and topple over. MC is too embarrassed to reveal to him that they used a spell on said boxes just to make sure they could back up their confidence in carrying so many. The demon beside them is one of the few they’d rather not make too much of a fool of themselves in front of. Plus, it’s not like they minded his hovering. Having him close is always a comfort.

“We’ll start with the front hall first. Stoke the fire, hang the garland along the mantle as well as the wall, tie the ribbons to the chandelier, wrap the railings for the stairway in lights, replace the carpet along the stairs with a much more festive design. We’ll ignore the tree in there for now.” The butler informs the human beside him.

MC nods. “Sounds like a plan!”

“We’ll do all of the more public rooms, so to speak, for now, and later on tonight or tomorrow, I’ll finish up all of the other rooms and hallways further into the castle, including the Young Master’s room as well as my own.” The two of them turn the corner into the front hall of the castle. “Though, I wouldn’t mind some company then, either.” He gives MC a subtly hopeful look.

MC grins and sets their boxes down, trying not to look too relieved at getting to do so. “I’ll take that as a personal invitation to join you, then.”

Barbatos chuckles, a happy smile coming to his face. “That was the intention.” He sets his boxes down, the other ones not being carried coming to a stop and landing right by the others. “Now, I’ll take care of the fire, as that’ll be quick. Do you think you could start on the lighted garland that will loop around the walls? There’s already hooks in place, so you only need to worry about reaching them.”

They give him a nod, an excited look in their eyes as they immediately start opening boxes and gathering what they need, the smell of christmas tree flooding out and filling the room quickly. As they stand back up, before they can turn away to do their assigned task, a hand quickly catches their chin before they find warm lips being pressed to their own.

MC kisses back immediately, leaning into the gentle affection happily, a light dusting of pink across their cheeks. When both pull away from the kiss, Barbatos has a matching shade on his own face. The two don’t exchange any words aloud, only sharing a loving look, before they both turn back to what they were doing previously, needing nothing but the warm, content quiet between them.

~*~

A/N: Lemme know what you think!! I'll be posting Solomon's literally right after this one cause it's already written, so watch out for that one if you'd like to read it!!

~*~

Taglist:

@dutifullyuniversallykingdom

@om-adventcalendar

@the-ancient-fae

Please let me know if you'd like to be added to the taglist!!

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takaraphoenix · 3 months ago

Note

This is my ask for the multi chapter Steter. Anything you want to share, I’m so curious about it now. 🥺🥺

THANKS SO MUCH FOR ASKING ^-^

Okay so, once again, this started out as a Mischief Monday and then I kinda went "mmmh no nope this is. the first chapter of something".

It's a soulmate AU because I love soulmate AUs and though I adore the True Mates angle for Teen Wolf, I really wanted a proper, full "everyone has a soulmate" AU with soulmarks.

The fic's title is Defying the Death Date and the soulmate AU I chose for it is that you bear your soulmate's birthday, if they are born before you then you are born with the date but if they are born after you then the date will appear on your body when they are born. And... as a counterpart to it, when your soulmate dies, their death date appears on your body.

Stiles learns that Peter is his soulmate when they kill the Alpha together.

And this was supposed to be a short oneshot about the angst of that. But then Derek decided to adopt Stiles and Stiles in return decided to adopt Derek in a burst of "in a soulmate universe, your family's soulmates would be your family and your soulmate's family would be your family and both these broken guys are gonna cling onto each other and then Stiles helps Derek grow the Hale Pack", so the Steter soulmate fic got a little hijacked by the need for platonic fluffy Sterek and then I figured "okay but that is kinda taking away from Steter... so what if, instead of using Lydia to resurrect, Peter would appear to STILES in visions and use the soulmate bond to bring himself back?" and yeah at that point I knew this wasn't gonna be a long oneshot either, this was turning multichapter...

Here, have an excerpt from chapter 1, the full chapter will be posted on December 21st:

The first time Stiles saw Peter Hale was in the hallway of a hospital and it was neither magical, nor amazing, but perhaps a little mind blowing. After all, Derek’s comatose uncle turned out to be the Alpha who bit Scott and he also turned out to not be as comatose as previously assumed.

Still, there were no… sparks, there was no recognition, no heart eyes or immediate swooning.

No, Stiles would only realize that Peter was his soulmate the third time they met.

(After a horrific second meeting on the lacrosse field that included the mauling of Lydia and the kidnapping of Stiles. Though a much tamer and less deadly kidnapping than Stiles would have anticipated, if one considered the dead nurse in Peter’s trunk or the state Lydia had been in when Stiles and Peter left the school grounds. He’d later wonder if that was the bond, subconsciously.)

The third time Stiles met Peter was at the burned out Hale House, after Peter tore Kate Argent’s throat out with his claws. There was still a sense of insanity in his red-burning eyes and Stiles found himself terrified and rooted to the spot, Jackson hot on his heels after Stiles had more or less forced the other jock into being his chauffeur to the crime scene.

All Stiles could see was the Alpha who had bitten Scott. The monster who had torn Lydia. The cold-blooded murderer who drove his nurse’s corpse around in the trunk of his car.

So Stiles threw the Molotov cocktail, to be ignited by an arrow from Allison. Setting Peter on fire (for the second time in the man’s life and good gods help him, Stiles felt his stomach twist at the reality of that). But it were Derek’s claws sinking into Peter’s throat that ended the man’s life.

The moment Derek tore them out, a searing pain shot through Stiles’ entire being and for a long, agonizing moment, he felt like he was on fire. His knees buckled from the overwhelming pain and he went down onto the ground, desperately grabbing his shirt to pull it up and see the spot where the pain seemed to originate from. His left hip. His eyes widened in true horror as he watched today’s date burn itself into his flesh in the same elegant cursive as the birth date on his right hip.

His soulmate had died. This very moment, his soulmate had died. The moment Derek ripped out his uncle’s throat, Stiles’ soulmate died. His eyes widened, terror and grief and confusion melting together into an awful emotion that seemed to drown him, because he could no longer breathe. He couldn’t breathe. He tried to but it was like his lungs had stopped working, because his soulmate was dead. His soulmate was dead and he had helped kill him.

#Steter #Soulmate AU #Teen Wolf #Fic: Defying the Death Date #Stiles Stilinski #Peter Hale #Sneak Peek

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everythingne · 1 month ago

Text

out of the woods — LS2

bahrain goes far better than dhanishka could have ever hoped, but she celebrates a bit too hard. landing herself in troubled waters.

logan sargeant x ferrari!ex!oc / fc: iffat marash/maitreyi ramakrishnan (adult) / hamda al qubaisi (young)

warnings/notes: mentions of past car accidents, drunkeness, a makeout scene,[] used to denote other languages being spoken, the oc is indian/desi, however the author is NOT, pls pls pls correct me on any inaccuracies ♥️

original plot masterlist / rewrite masterlist / b chapter two

Bahrain hasn't even started, Dhanishka's home race hasn't even started, and she already fely like she was about to snap. Dhanishka knew coming into this race there was a lot of pressure on her to do well, not to mention how basically everyone she knew and their fucking mother was here, but from Ferrari alone. This was the season they planned to solidify Charles and Ferrari next to Red Bull. They'd been secretive about their car, their plans, and whatever, just to hopefully psyche out the other teams.

Personally, Dhanishka just wanted to win for herself, but that's a whole other story.

When Dhanishka walk in the race, cameras are on her faster than she can say her name, thousands of eyes watching the only rookie this season as she makes her way into the paddock. Inside the paddock is no better, and the garage can't even be a safe haven as reporters walking the pit lane try to get video of Dhanishka and Charles greeting each other.

He's like a bright red beacon of safety amidst the chaos of this morning. He hands her a coffee, says it's supposed to be some sort of weird chai thing. It tastes... like slightly more bitter and heavily espresso filled chai. But Dhanishka drinks it anyway because lord knows she'll need the energy.

"You look stressed, is it the race?" Charles asks after the first debriefing, when Dhanishka is working on reaction times. She keeps working at whacking the buttons, eyes trained on the center as she also works on periphery.

"I think so." Dhanishka says, uninterested, and Charles purposefully messes up the game so she looks at him with a loud exclamation. He grins, and now understands why Arthur had punched Charles in the arm as a greeting once.

He looks like a cat that knows it's done something wrong, but smugly doesn't care. Like Dhanishka's aunt's big brown cat named Porsche.

They'd bought her a 'Porsche' for her birthday that year. Haha.

"What's it actually?" Charles asks when she catches her breath a little, taking a big gulp of water and then sipping on the coffee-chai-thing.

"I talked to Logan after we left the restaurant and I can't stop thinking about it." Dhanishka set down the cup and go to return to the game before Charles grabs her wrist and pulls her back.

"You talked to him?" Charles pauses, "Dhanishka, you talked--"

"Yes. I talked to him, it didn't go very well. We ended up in a screaming mach in front of the restaurant." And the flush on her face makes Charles hesitate before softly asking,

"Do you wanna talk about it before the race? Maybe get it out of your system so it doesn't affect you while driving?"

"You're talking like you speak from experience."

"Maybe I do." He hums and Dhanishka huffs through her nose, before grabbing both of her drinks when Charles nods his head back to his drivers room. Probably the only place here the two of them could get privacy. He pops Dhanishka down on his couch, shuts the door, and sits next to her, motioning for the girl to talk.

Dhanishka stammers a bit before sighing, “Logan still thinks it’s my fault. He still thinks I had something to do with the accident. And I’m a fucking idiot because I still love him.”

Charles’ eyes widen as Dhanishka leans forward and huffs, rubbing her forehead as she keeps talking, “I still love him after three years. And he doesn’t love me back and that hurts but I can’t do anything about it.”

"You still love him?" Charles asks in a shocked whisper and Dhanishka nods, and then hitches forward with a sharp gasp like she's in pain.

Well, there is a migraine forming behind her eyes. But she pushes it away for now.

Saying the words out loud have thrown every possible emotion in her face. Anger at Logan for breaking up, regret for not chasing him, a deep sorrow for the things Dhanishka had lost. He had been her first love, something so innocent. She didn't know how she was supposed to live without him, not then, not now.

"I do," She whispers through the lump in her throat, "I love him, but I can't even look at him without feeling sick."

For once with all the issues Dhanishka;s come to tell Charles about--past and present, this is one that stumps him. But he wraps an arm around her regardless, pulling the rookie to his side as he rubs his hand along her back. It's a motion she's seen him do to Arthur--especially after he was dropped by the Ferrari Academy, and it makes her want to sob.

But, for favor of a migraine, she bites down the tears. After maybe ten minutes, she's calmed down fully. Or, enough for now.

"No matter what happens, I've got you." Charles says softly when Dhanishka detaches from his side, "just like at dinner, I've got you."

She nod and he hands her a tissue to fix up my makeup. And she stands to wander over to a mirror, Charles watching her body language like a hawk, until Alex knocks and steps in when told to.

"Dani!" She chirps, stepping over to wrap her arms around the rookie, "Ugh, why are you crying?"

"It's just, stupid boy stuff." Dhanishka waves a hand, overing Alexandra a soft smile, "Don't worry about it."

"Well," Alexandra takes Dhanishka' napkin and wipes at her face, "let me know if I need to yell at him."

Charles chuckles, standing, making his way over to press a kiss to her cheek--making Alex yip and complain about him smudging her blush--but the grin on her face shows no anger.

And its the softness of them, in private and public, that makes Dhanishka's mind wander a little bit into the past before she shakes it off at the sound of Joris calling for Charles.

The sun is long set when they start the race, the warm up lap making Dhanishka's nerves spark as my fingers twitch on the steering wheel. She knew Bahrain's track like the backs of her hands, she knew exactly what to expect and what to do and where to go. There had been countless times she'd raced here, but now the stakes were all much much higher. Starting p8 wasn't terrible, anyone would've preferred to be higher but Dhanishka knew to just take what she can get and work with it. She had the ability to do so. In front of her is Yuki, Carlos, Daniel, Charles, Oscar, Lando, and Max. With Logan directly behind her and Alex behind him.

Not super worried about Alex, Dhanishka adjusts her gloves, recounting the driving styles of her contenders. Logan had a pretty similar driving style to her so she should probably worry about him coming up and overtaking. There's a confidence in knowing she can overtake (probably) Yuki, Carlos, and Daniel if she gives herself time and risks going wide when it comes to Carlos. But Lando, Oscar and Max will be her biggest competition. Though she's not sure about Charles, it depends on what team orders are told on the radio.

Within the first five laps, a lucky near miss with Yuki and Carlos allows Dhanishka to cut through them both without a problem, but Daniel's giving her a run for her money. Charles even tries helping, but it's no use, and she takes her place behind Daniel for the foreseeable future as Charles leers ahead.

Holding P6 at the beginning isn't the worst scenario. But there's a tension in waiting until people starting going in to box, hopefully something will allow her to use that to get around.

Eventually, Daniel understeers and it gives her a perfect opportunity to whip around him and she fights a bit before being able to solidify herself in P5. Oscar's ahead of her, Lando ahead of him, Charles in P2 and then Max holds P1. Charles is fighting him for it and with it just being the first race, Dhanishka impressed with how we're doing so far.

At some point Logan comes up behind Dhanishka, maybe in the last five laps? The whole race is an adrenaline blur Dhanishka can't remember. But she knows Logan comes up too hard, forcing him to nearly push her to the edge of the track. On a whim, Dhanishka speeds up, purposefully oversteering the turn to knock Logan off her back.

But, they both are definitely dangerously close to track limits, even if they end up unscathed from the near miss.

Logan swings up on the straight, wheel to wheel with Dhanishka. She knows he plans to force her wide, so she guns it into the turn, skipping her back tires just a tad to keep the turn level. Taking the outside line isn't Dhanishka's forte, but something she's trained for on the off occassion it would happen.

She jams up, and curses, Lando clips the side of Charles in a tight turn, sending debris towards her and Logan. To avoid it, Logan jams on his brakes and dips behind Dhanishka, and she uses Lando's pause as a moment. There's a longer straight here, and she jams the enigne as high as it will go to fly past both drivers. Lando becoming a sort of 'Logan barrier.'

And as she crosses the line, she hears, "Last lap! Hold position!"

And shes honestly just fine defending, letting Max and Charles battle it out for first. Lando holds well with basically 2/3rds of a wing, and Dhanishka's not surprised no safety car gets called for the debris. Which, is still there when she passes the second time.

But as the race is called, Dhanishka's mechanics screaming in her headset, she can't even do anything but let out a loud, "Yes! Yes! Oh, wallahi, wow. Wow. We did it!"

Dhanishka can't really feel anything under the thrum of her excitement, pulling up to the boards in a flurry of thanks to the team as she scrambles to get up and out of the car before she starts shaking from adrenaline. She pops her steering wheel back in, and is tearing off her helmet and balaclava when she hears Charles' laugh.

He scoops her up off the ground, barely giving her time to place her items down, and she bursts into a high laugh--shoving the hat on her head to hide her helmet hair.

"Lets go! 'Ishka!" Charles jumps as he sets her down, and Dhanishka turns to properly give him a hug.

"HOw the hell did I just do that?" Dhanishka asks, looking over her shoulder as Max gives her a solid whack.

"Call it beginners luck," He grins, "Congrats, kid."

Max grabs the brim of her hat and yanks it down, making her yelp in surprise as Charles cackles once more, mixing in a melody with Max's soft rumble of laughter. Lifting up the brim, Dhanishka scowls, playfully whacking Max's chest as a organizer begins ushering them off to their teams. Ferrari is beyond estatic, and Charles lets Dhanishka go first to run and dive into her team. He laughs behind, helping her back down as they pass around to give tight hugs.

"Babli!" Dhanishka's head whips around at her fathers call and she grins, running over faster than she thinks her legs can carry her and crashing into his chest. His arms are solid around her and she hides her face in his shoulder.

"We are so proud of you," He says softly in the rumble of the crowd, her mother agreeing as she dusts back her daughters wild statically tangled hair from the race.

"So so proud," Her mother says, and when she steps back, she makes sure to give her mother and sister two tight hugs before she has to go off to the cool down room with Charles, meetin gup with Max on the way.

Time is blurry when Dhanishka stumbles her way onto the stage. The hometown crowd is roaring, the chanting of various things rattling her bones as she shakes hands with someone and is handed her trophy.

She spots her parents in the crowd, Shivani screaming and clapping, her parents silently cheering her on with proud, beaming smiles.

And Dhanishka throws the trophy up, catching it, and a triumphant shout leaves her throat in time with the roar of the country that's held her in their hearts.

Dipping back into the paddock, Dhanishka sees Logan being ushered away from her by Alex. Even though the sight of him makes her throat close and stomach drop, she tries to keep her head up. Trying to not let it affect me, but she knows it does.

Dhanishka has to remind herself that she told Logan the truth. She let him him go because he wanted to go. Nothing Logan did now would change the way her heart ached for him, but it wouldn't change her decisions either. In F2, she learned quickly to shove her emotions down and never let them escape, and when she wasn't in the safety of Charles' company, Dhanishka felt like she had fallen back into that same routine again.

Cold, sharper than a tack, everything rolled right off. She bit her tongue when necessary, fought back only when provoked.

It was nothing like how she had been before Trident. That much was known. But she wasn't about to be used again. Never again.

A few hours later, Dhanishka is in the hall of the hotel room Charles is staying in, him laying face first on his bed while she fixes up her makeup in a mirror for the upteenth time. He chuckles at something on his phone and Dhanishka glances over, watching as he sits up with a sheepish grin she knows all too well.

"Alex, again?" she inquires and the Monegasque grins like a puppy, making Dhanishka laugh.

"She just was congratulating us," He defends, rubbing the back of his neck before leaning forward.

"Tell her I said thank you," Dhanishka adjusts her outfit once more. Fidgeting while waiting for it to be time to leave, she wasn't sure why she felt so antsy. It was another night out to celebrate the season kickoff, Max inviting most of the grid to one of the clubs Dhanishka had frequented for years with her sister and friends.

Charles stands, adjusting his necklace that lays over the black tee and baggy jeans he's wearing. Nothing too crazy for him, but Dhanishka looks a bit different. With a Ferrari jacket wrapped around her, she hides the little black dress shes wearing underneath, and all the jewelry she's amassed over the years.

"Revenge dress?" He muses to Dhanishka with a smirk, coming behind her, and she rolls her eyes and whacks his arm with a loud laugh.

"It wasn't intended to be, but sure." She grins as she leans over to grab her wine glass off the table in front of the mirror and down the rest of the glass. A loose pregame to the night. She turns back to Charles with a smirk, "Glad to see you've gotten a bit of fashion advice, the polo looks good. If Max is wearing anything Red Bull I'll choke him out."

"I'll help you." Charles laughed and hands Dhanishka his wallet. She pops it in her purse without thinking. She knows it's so she won't run off without him, and while Dhanishka pretends to be annoyed--the action is sweet.

"We have a little private room with some of the other drivers," Charles grabs their phones off the chargers and hands Dhanishka hers as he pockets his, fixes his hair in some sort of habit, and then looks back to her as he grabs the handle of the door, "So, you can leave your stuff there until we leave."

"Sounds good to me." Dhanishka follows him out the door, her heels clicking on the tile on the hallway as they move down to where the carpet starts.

"Logan's gonna be there. That's fine with you?" Charles asks softly, glancing back over his shoulder at Dhanishka and watching as she gives a half hearted shrug.

"I probbaly wont even see him, this club is always packed." Dhanishka reasons. Especially with a private room, where she was sure some of the more introverted drivers would hide in whereas Dhanishka would spend most of her night at the bar. Or the dance floor.

"Are you sure?" Charles holds the elevator door open for Dhanishka, letting her step in before he presses the button down to lobby. As the doors shut, Dhanishka takes a step back to lean against the wall of the elevator and run her fingers along the edges of her hair.

"It's fine. I'm over it." Dhanishka's tone comes out more deflecting than she means for it to, as she looks herself up and down in the mirror of the doors in front of them. She's not afraid to admit that she looks good whether that's the alcohol or the confidence form her P3 talking she can't be sure.

"You cried over Logan this morning," Charles hums, thinking back to his intervention this monring, "but now you're saying you're over it?"

"One," Dhanishka counters, "I look hot."

This makes Charles laugh, shaking his head as she rolls his eyes.

"Two, I just got P3 in my first ever Formula 1 race." I am hot, sexy, breaking the Ferrari curse and beating my ex-boyfriend at the same time. Clearly I am winning in life." Dhanishka playfully does a z-snap at Charles as the doors to the elevator slide open and he has no time to rebute her claim as they make their way into the lobby.

Outside, tucked in the parking garage, was a Ferrari. One sent over by the team for Charles and Dhanishka. They'd only driven it from the airport to the hotel, and now to this club, with a driver from Ferrari too. IT felt like... too much luxury. Dhanishka was well off, sure, but her family had worked their assess off to get where they were. Dhanishka could remember the days of low money and her parents fighitng to get raises..

So now, it just feels like a waste, even when she understands safety is a high prioroity for her now.

But as Charles lets her in the back, she can't deny the new lap of luxury she finds herself in is quite nice. So she leans back with a content sigh, watching as Charles does the same and grins,

"Let's not get too fucked up," He chimes, "early flight tomorrow."

"Speak for yourself, bitch." Dhanishka grins, and Charles bursts into laughter.

dhanishkadubey made a new post!

liked by logansargeant, oscarpiastri, charlesleclerc, and 254k others...

dhanishkadubey: kicking off the start of a wonderful szn. much love to the tifosi 🏎️ ❤️ (📷: @ charlesleclerc)

charlesleclerc: ❤️

danielricciardo: this bitch drinks fireball like water.

-- dhanishkadubey: ur rlly exposing me like this danny :(?

user1: congrats on p3!!!

oscarpiastri: go dhanishka go !!

user2: tensions rising in the loscar fandom tn

maxverstappen: great start to your rookie year, dhanishka :)

anyadubey: YAAA THATS MY SEXY SISTER!!!

user3: actually in love w her.

When the two Ferrari drivers arrive at the club, the place is already going hard. Early 2000s music pulses from various speakers, the lights flashing to the beat of who Dhanishka thinks is Britney Spears mixed with that one song from Saltburn. It's Daniel who greets the two in the upstairs room, showing them where to leave their bags and jackets while Charles is escorted off to the side by Pierre and Max. Dhanishka spots Esteban and Lance chatting idly with Magnussen and some other racers. It's odd combinations tonight, as the grouping strays from the normal clumps of friends, but it means Dhanishka luckily find myself engrossed in a conversation with Alex and George maybe thirty minutes after getting inside.

The most normal pair of the night, other than Lando and Oscar miserably failing at some game in a corner of the club.

"I seriously thought you were gonna be much meaner!" George shouts over the pulsing music and Dhanishka laughs as he hands her a drink from the bartender. Taking a big sip, Dhanishka thanks the bartender, nodding at the sour taste she's expecting from the cocktail.

Catching George's eye, Dhanishka teases, "Do you want me to be?"

"God no," George waves a hand in her direction with a soft laugh, something playful and almost childlike gleaming in his eyes as he tilts his head, "Carmen's plenty mean to me."

"Oh stop!" Alex scoffs, whacking George's arm, "As if Carmen's little jabs equate to Lily's!"

"Didn't you literally call Lily the doll from Squid Game?" Dhanishka pipes up to ask, then pops her straw in her mouth and take a slow sip. Alex freezes as if he's been caught red handed, and George suppresses a giggle.

"Look..." Alex holds up a hand in defense but George and Dhanishka are laughing too hard to really hear whatever excuse he uses to defend his actions. The night is young and free, but across the bar Dhanishka can't help but catch a set of blue eyes.

Beer dribbles across Logans lips, and as if payback for the resturant, Logan lifts a thumb to slowly trace the remnants off his lip before grinning mischievously and turning back into the crowd with a drunken sway.

Even if he's gone, Dhanishka can feel his hands haunting along her skin--memories that refuse to die--even as she chugs the rest of her drink and orders another to calm her nerves.

"Okay, can I ask you a question, Dhanishka?" Alex asks when George leans on the bar next to him. Instinctually, Alex is leaning forward on the bar as Dhanishka settle in her seat. A now stronger version of her previous drink in hand. With a bit of hesitance, Dhanishka nods and Alex takes a pause to roll the question through his head. He takes a sip of his drink, swallows, and turns to ask, "If you wanna answer, what exactly happened with you and Logan? 'Cause he's been moping since you got announced to be racing with Ferrari and I might lose my mind if he doesn't knock it off."

"Oh god," Dhanishka says into her midori sour, taking the bitter drink into her mouth and swallowing it and setting my hand over the cup as she settles it in her lap. George leans over to look, head slightly tilted like a puppy as Alex quickly speaks up.

"If you don't wanna say anything, it's fine, but--"

"--No, no. It's fine Alex," She's quick to wave a hand, "uhm, Logan and I started dating when we were racing in Renault, but we'd been kinda... I guess flirty since the end of our formative years and into like secondary school. We were... I was fifteen, so he was seventeen or sixteen at the time? It was just like... puppy love, y'know? Pure and innocent, nothing too serious.

"And, we were both in love and it was nice. It really was nice. But, when that crash happened with Trident, I think something snapped in him. I... the breakup... it came from nowhere. I don't know if it was because he was mad, thinking I had something to do with it, or if he just... didn't know what to do and needed control after Trident took that P2 position from him? I don't know. We hadn't spoken since that day until last night."

"You talked to him last night?" Alex asks with slightly wide eyes, George's jaw dropping like a teenager, Dhanishka manages a shaky nod, taking another sip of the drink.

"We argued about it last night while waiting to leave." She sighs, rolling her shoulders as she pops the straw between her lips and takes a long slow sip, then she speaks, "He thought I had something to do with the crash, I told him I didn't, he asked me why I let him leave--which, Alex, feel free to tell him I think that's a dumb fucking question. I wasn't gonna force him to stay if he was unhappy, or if he didn't wanna date anymore. I'm not a monster."

"Wait, wait," George waves a hand to grab her attention and she turns to him with a soft hum, "So is he mad at you?"

"I don't know," Dhanishka finishes off the second drink, noticing both George and Alex are not even halfway down their first drinks. Oops. She can't find it in her to care, "I can't tell with him. I would completely understand if he was furious about everything, but none of it was my fault. I didn't even know Trident planned to crash into him!"

"I'm gonna try talking to him," Alex looks over at someone to the right of Dhanishka, towards where Logan had been earlier, and she doesn't even have to look to know he means Logan's there. Slowly, she shrugs. Alex takes that as his permission to slip off the stool, George hesitating to follow. Luckily, he lingers long enough to ask Dhanishka where she's going-- and escorts her up to the VIP room, to make sure she arrives fine, and then leaves Dhanishka to Daniel. There's a pause as he finishes his shot with Max, who grins at Dhanishka and gives her a side hug as she steps closer.

"You've had something to drink, right?" Daniel asks and Dhanishka nods. Max taking a 'chaser' of his gin and tonic shortly after as Lando and Charles come over form where Carlos has been attempting to teach the two darts.

"Join us for a couple drinks, y'know, for the race winner!" Danny drags Dhanishka away from Max giving her a loose side hug as Max tilts back his drink and finishes it off.

"Ay," Carlos whacks Max's back, nearly making the Dutch man choke on the last few drops of his drink, "She's the winner, not you."

The group laughs, moving through the room, and finding themselves in the back corner of one of the bars in the club. Throughout their time crowded there, drivers come and go. Oscar and Lily sit for an hour before leaving for the night, Alex and George staying for a long while before Alex goes off to find where Logan's playing pool with Lando. Eventually, Checo approaches, ordering every driver in the vicinity the strongest tequila he can find, and having them all take various numbers of shots.

As the night gets woozy, Dhanishka finishes up their tabs by ordering everyone soju shots with water glasses as chasers, standing up as she shouts over the music, "Here's to a good season ahead!"

The group cheers whilst tapping their glasses together, and to the nearest surface, before downing the sweet liquid. As the night in the club pulls to an unceremonious close, groups begins to clump together. Dhanishka ending up with Max, Charles, and Daniela round five when the club starts to close up. So much for her early flight.

"Danny!" She calls to the Australian, who turns in a full circle before realizing where she's standing. He nods, smiling as he loosely stumbles closer to Dhanishka doesn't have to shout.

"The bathrooms right there," She points to a hallway and Daniel nods, "Can you grab my stuff and I'll meet you guys by the door?"

"Yeah, just be quick! Text me if you need anything!" He squeezes Dhanishka's arm and turns to the fleeting call of Max. It doesn't take much effort for Dhanishka to control her swaying enough to make her way down the stairs with solid methodical steps.

She's far too drunk for this.

Her knee buckles on the last step, her hand flying out to catch herself before she plummets, and two hands shoot out to grab her by the ribs and yank her forward--crashing her against the strangers chest. The warm palms that cover her ribs are far too familiar, and Dhanishka steps back to profusely apologize and thank the stranger in the same breath. However, the sight of blue eyes draws the air out of her lungs involuntarily, her chest and cheeks burning red.

Dhanishka, somehow, swallows her pride enough to squeak out a small thank you.

Logan's eye twitches in frustration as his hands drop to his sides now that Dhanishka stands steady. He can't hide the bite in his voice as he says,, "Are you going to tell everyone about our break-up?"

"Alex and George asked, asshole." Dhanishka fires back, "And why does it matter? Everything was blasted online! If I said no, they'd probably just look it up, and I'd rather they got the truth."

"Or the lie that you had no part in it." Logan mutters, going to move past him, and Dhanishka cuts him off.

"Are you going to start a fucking fight everytime I see you?"

The hallway is quiet with tension Dhanishka feels suffocating her. She can't breathe, can't think. She definitely can't when Logan yanks her down the hall, pushing her into a darkened corner and boxing her in as some strangers pass by. They probably assume the two are flirting, giggling behind hands, soft compliments whispered between kisses, drunken smiles. If only they knew the look in Logan's eyes. Something dark. Something Dhanishka hasn't seen on his face before. She wants so badly to decipher it, but she'd lose the guide to Logan's emotions years ago, like the beads of her necklace that had fallen down the drain.

"You..." He scrambles to find the words, fists opening and closing in frustration as his eyes flicker up to Dhanishka, "You are some sort of sickness I can't get rid of--a fucking plague in my thoughts--always fucking there."

He's closer, chest blocking the light from the hall, his hand on her jaw forcing her face up as he grits his teeth, "And you look far too pretty when you're smug like this."

"You're quite cute when you're angry too, Sargeant." Dhanishka says, and his lips dip down--but pause. Ever the gentleman, he waits for a moment for Dhanishka. His hands coming to rest on her ribs like he'd just saved her again.

Her bangles clink when her arm lifts to wrap around his shoulders, pulling him down the rest of the way and into her lips. They fit together like a warm blanket on a cold day. Lips intertwined. As if sewn together, the kiss a perfect remedy to a broken heart. Logan's hands are solid, controlled against her body as he brings her closer until he can slide them down to rest across her lower back. Dhanishka arching into him between two, deep, slow, well timed kisses that send her mind tumbling back to nights hidden under the blankets on the couch--praying no one was awake as they tested the waters of simple teenage love. The kiss brings back Dhanishka's warm heart, sending it pounding in each other limbs, making her dizzy and weightless. She knows Logan feels it too, the unmistakable feeling of being right where you were supposed to be.

His lips tumble down her jaw, smearing lipstick against her neck, and the feeling makes Dhanishka gasp, her eyes flying open, "Logan--why are we doing this to ourselves?"

He steps back then, lips red from hers, a slight puff as he mumbles, "What are you talking about?"

"We shouldnt... this is all going to mean nothing tomorrow, you realize that, right?" Dhanishka swallows, "We're drunk and..."

"We're drunk, and I still love you." He whispers and Dhanishka feels tears pool in her eyes. She prays that, somehow, between the tequila and the soju she won't remember this in the morning.

"Don't say that." She whispers, and Logan nods, his words falling out with a warm breath that feels like a fire against her neck, "Can I show you it instead?"

Dhanishka nods. And it's the best, and worst decision she's ever made. His hands pull her back in, pressing her back against the wall with his chest holding her back. Her hands raise to curl into his hair, each kiss feeling like centuries worth of longing. Like falling in love, over and over again. He nips her bottom lip, using a knee to knock Dhanishka's legs apart to step between them. He leans in, presses just right to have a familiar, years long gone heat curling up Dhanishka's stomach.

"Lo, please." Dhanishka isn't even sure what shes asking. More? Less? She can't tell, but Logan isn't slowing down. The pulse of the club's last songs rumbles through the wall in vibrations that make Dhanishka's already spinning world practically buzz. The feeling, mixed with the way Logan's hands teasingly drift just enough lower as he drags her in once more, making sure she feels everything, has Dhanishka breaking the kiss with a whimper.

A few more kisses scatter across their time, and finally when the light headed feeling gets enough, Logan leans back but only enough to rest their foreheads together. He's stained with lipstick. Dhanishk a is sure she is too. 22R being the only thing linking them together. When she swallows, her mouth no longer tastes like tequila and soju, a lingering hint of whiskey and shitty bottled beer stains her tongue. It's everything she knows to run from, and yet, she finds she needs it more now than ever.

When their eyes met, Logan seems to sober. Sheepishly murmuring, "That was an accident."

The words Dhanishka had wanted him to say earlier, the sobering realization she had been hoping he'd have before crashing her lips into his, suddenly feels like a knife piercing her heart. She feels like he's carving her open, taking her heart into his hands like a toy.

"You started this." She whispers harshly, shoving Logan back. He stumbles, now looking up at her like a kicked puppy as she sneers, "You're the one who can't ignore me! I've spent so long blocking you out, why can't you just go away! You keep doing all these things, and they take me back--"

"Don't act like you didn't want that too!" He counters, "And don't pretend its only you suffering, Dhanishka! I'm suffering too! I miss you as much as I did the day you left."

"I didn't leave, you broke up with me!" Dhanishka wipes a hand futilely across her neck, as if scrubbing away the truth imbedded with teeth marks on her skin. She hates the tears that well in her eyes, "How is that my fucking fault?!"

"You knew!"

"Fuck off with that! I would never!" Dhanishka shoves Logan fully out of her way now. He hits the wall, stunned, before his hand darts out tog rab her wrist in a gentle hold--

"Isa, please." He begs, but whatever rebuttal he has is lost over the ringing in her ears over the nickname that used to make her giddy in his accent. She tears herself away with lightning speed as the lights in the club brighten, she turns to look at herself in the hall mirror and fix herself up.

"You don't get to call me that." She hisses, before rubbing at her neck until it's raw as she runs up the stairs away from her mistakes. Logan calls for her again, but she doesn't care, dipping through the crowd until she finds Danny and Max waiting by the doors. She doesn't say anything, just pushes herself out of the club, stumbling to where she sees Charles standing by the side of the building.

She feels so sick she just stumbles up and crashes into his chest in a shaky sob. Charles is quick to ask a million questions, but Dhanishka brushes each one off--she's tired, she's just not in it tonight, she wants to go home. It's almost like Charles' knows its somethign else, though he never says, he just holds Dhanishka to his chest as they wait for their ride with Max and Danny on the corner.

He doesn't say anything when Logan walks past them, calling goodnight with the floral scent of Dhanishka's perfume and the marks of her lips on his neck, clinging to him as he walks by without even a glance back.

liked by logansargeant, mclarenracing, lancestroll, and others...

f1: Due to track limits, @ dhanishkadubey will receive a unique 'grid penalty' of five 'point places.' This penalty will only affect her points, dropping her to +10pts rather than+25pts. She will keep her title and trophy.

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rays-of-fire-and-ice · 1 month ago

Text

Returnal: Winter

Two Weeks of Hitsuhina 2024: Days 12 & 14 - Birthday & Winter

Rating: K/General

Setting: between the ten-year time-skip and No Breaths from Hell oneshot, but as this is a companion piece to Returnal: Summer, it’s five months after that fic.

Synopsis: on his birthday, Hitsugaya returns to where it all began for him. Hinamori comes along to help him put the pieces together.

AN: a belated birthday fic! I didn’t intend to write a companion piece to my other Two Weeks of Hitsuhina submission, Returnal, but when I was coming towards the end of writing that one, the idea for this one came to mind and I couldn’t not write it. It’s why I ended up including Summer in the title of that fic, to differentiate it from this one.

Some of you may recall a fic I wrote years ago that explores Toshiro's origins a bit. I wasn't happy with how that one turned out, and I've been looking for an opportunity and idea to try it again. Prepare for an angsty one, I wanted to explore an aspect of Toshiro's character that I think doesn't quite get explored enough and it led me to write some potentially out-of-character moments; but I promise there’s fluffy hurt/comfort here too.

Finally, while I would love for you to also read Returnal: Summer, you don’t have to have read it to understand what’s going on here.

I hope you all enjoy this one!

_____________________

Hitsugaya doesn’t startle at the bang of the party poppers, nor at the streamers that fly from them and brush over or land on his uniform.

“Happy birthday!” Rangiku, Hinamori, and Granny all cheer in sing-song.

He’d sensed Hinamori and Rangiku’s reiatsu as he’d approached his childhood home, and had an inkling before arriving they’d had something planned since yesterday. Hinamori said he should visit the Junrinan tomorrow, and Rangiku tried to wipe a secretive smirk from her face.

He can’t help but let out a sigh while he smiles. “So, this is what you two were up to.”

Rangiku and Hinamori exchange a surprised glance.

"There's no hiding anything, from the captain, huh?" his lieutenant whispers to her.

"He's always been perceptive," Hinamori whispers back with a shrug.

"I can hear you from over here," Hitsugaya half grumbles.

“Now, now, come here, Toshiro,” Granny says, waving him over. “Your candles will start to melt.”

It’s only then he notices the cake on the table in front of them. Although small, it’s rather elaborate, with strawberries on top of puffs of cream around the edges, and his name written beneath ‘Happy Birthday’ in icing. The candles atop and a lantern near the back of the room cast the small space in a warm glow. For a winter’s night, it’s rather cozy.

He removes his shoes before stepping up to living room and kneeling opposite the three at the table. All the while, they smile at him, and Rangiku makes a comment he doesn’t quite catch, but it makes Granny chuckle and Hinamori suppress a giggle.

“What’s so funny?” he asks.

Rangiku waves a hand towards the cake, “Nothing! Now go on, make a wish and blow out the candles.”

He’s tempted to snark back that wishes are for children, but refranes with Granny present. Even if he wanted to make one, he has no wish he wants granted. He's always lived ascetically, his work life is always hectic and he had little interest in material things beyond their practical use -- though his ice sculpting was an exception in that regard.

So, he blows out the candles, and his smile returns -- smaller and indulgent this time -- at the clapping and quiet cheers before him. He doesn’t really bask in it. There was a time where he would’ve considered all of this a fuss, one that embarrassed him and would leave him flustered. A small part of him still cringes inwardly, but as the years went on, he came tolerate the attention and appreciate the efforts they made.

For him, it's another birthday. Another year to add to the decades he’s been alive. He’s never ungrateful for those who choose to celebrate his birthday, but he’s rarely been happy to celebrate it himself. With a quiet huff of a chuckle, he wonders if he’s getting old.

“Shiro-chan?”

He rolls his eyes. “Captain Hitsugaya, Hinamori.”

“Oh come on, sir!” Rangiku says while she the room to light two more lanterns. “You’re not going to enforce that while we’re off duty, are you?”

“Says the person who just called me ‘sir’,” he mutters. Then, louder, “But yes, I am. Regardless of whether I’m duty on not, it’s my rank to both of you.”

The two of them sigh, and Granny just looks on, smiling proudly.

“Well, regardless, it’s another year,” Hinamori says, handing him the knife.

“Indeed,” says Granny while picking off the candles from the cake.

“And he’s barely aged a day,” Rangiku teases, causing Granny to let out a chittering laugh.

He wonders if he should chime in, but he feels no need to. He watches them, knife ready to cut through the cake, while they remove the candles and Hinamori sets the plates out for each of them. His lieutenant brings over the two lanterns, putting one down on the table and another in the opposite corner of the room. It’s a peaceful scene, the kind he’s become accustomed to since the Seireitei’s victory over the Quincy.

After he cuts the cake and serves each of them a slice, they settle around the table and enjoy it in mostly silence. There’s a bit of quiet chatter between the three of them, sometimes including him, but they otherwise leave him be. He prefers it. He’d rather watch the people in his life be happy, he’d come to realise, and takes no offense with them excluding him.

Yet the thought evokes something tight and hollow within him, something he swallows back with a chunk of cake. It’s not the first time he’s experienced it, but it had been decades since the last bout of it.

“Oh! Wait!”

He blinks at Hinamori, who fiddles with something at her side before lifting it into view. He frowns at the box thrust at him.

“I probably should’ve given this before we cut the cake,” she says, her smile rueful. “Sorry, Hitsugaya-kun, but here! Happy birthday!”

A gift. He briefly glances at Granny and Rangiku, and when the latter shrugs, he knows it's only coming from Hinamori.

He’s slow to take the box from her. A blue bow has been tied around it, and there’s a tag that has his name. Why did she go to the trouble to decorate it like this, let alone buy him a gift? She usually gives him something handmade, like a box of sweets and biscuits, or a drawing she did or an ikebana arrangement.

He unties the bow and pulls the lid off. When he lifts up the mug within, Granny lets out an impressed ‘Ohhh’ while Rangiku turns to Hinamori and comments, “That’s the perfect gift for him! He was just saying the other day he needed a new cup!”

“Oh really?” Hinamori gasps. “I had no idea!”

“It’s beautiful,” Granny says. “And I do know he loves his tea. It’s a nice gift, isn’t it, Toshiro?”

It’s glossy surface glimmers in the lantern light. It’s mostly black, but there’s a slip of brown at the bottom, and pouring over the rim like water is a deep blue, which also fills in the inside. He can’t imagine how much this must’ve cost her.

“I got it while we were in the World of the Living,” she says to him. “It’s why it’s not like the cups you see around here.”

“That was five months ago, right?” Rangiku asks.

“Yeah.”

“Wow! You really planned ahead!”

“To be honest, I didn’t think of it has a birthday gift at the time, but, well…”

“Thank you.”

Everyone turns to him. He stares into the mug. “Thank you, Hinamori, this is a really good gift.”

“Oh, I – I’m glad you like it!”

“I’ll be sure to use it starting tomorrow.”

Rangiku lets out an amused huff. “Goodness, sir, you don’t need to say that!”

The evening falls back into quiet chattering as they finish their cake slices. After they’re done, Hinamori prepares tea leaves and Rangiku starts boiling the water. He'd wanted to help, but both insisted he stay where he was -- "It's your birthday, afterall!" Rangiku had reasoned, much to his chagrin.

He let Granny have a look at his new mug and watched as she marvelled at the colors and design. She’s never been to the World of the Living, has only ever heard about it through his and Hinamori’s stories. She probably didn’t even known about the tradition of having a cake with candles to blow out until recently.

She's always lived a quiet life, but since he left her, it's gotten even quieter. Thankfully, others who’d grown up in the area and considered her a grandmother figure have assisted her in his absence with foraging and shopping. It’s one less thing he worries about.

But other things, like if she’s feeling lonely or can’t handle household chores, sometimes prey on his mind. She’s always been an independent spirit, and is more capable for her age than some in the district, but that didn’t mean she had her bad days.

She wasn’t exactly young when she found him either.

The thought brings that feeling again, gripping his throat and chest. The living area and kitchen space, a room he’s known for decades and had always been a source of nostalgia and comfort, is suddenly too confined.

“I’m going out,” he says, standing and making his way to the back. Rangiku gives him a quizzical look, but Granny only nods with a smile. With her back turned to him, he doesn’t see Hinamori’s reaction.

A cold breeze sweeps over him when he steps outside and closes the door behind him. The snowfall is gentle and sparse, floating more than falling to the ground. The light from the windows is a bright orange glow, casting on the veranda and ground. He hears quiet chatter within, but can’t make out what the three of them are saying.

He stands on the veranda for several heartbeats, gauging if being out in the open is enough to assuage this constraining emotion. It calms, but still stews in the back of his mind.

He thinks of one place, somewhere he should’ve gone before coming here.

Hefting his scarf higher up his face, he steps off the veranda and walks into the woods. He looks back briefly when he leaves the orange glow cast on to the ground, moving into the night’s darkness. He let’s out an iota of reiatsu, allowing it attach itself to anything nearby in case they need to come find him.

He wends between the trees and flora. If one were to see him right now, they’d think he was just taking a quiet stroll through the woods; it’s anything but that. Despite not taking a beaten path and going at a slow pace, he knows exactly where he’s going to.

The bare branches rattle above his head, and there’s a distant call of an animal somewhere deeper into the forest. The clouds obscure most of the crescent moon that barely lights his way. None it scares him. He knows this place, has always felt a connection to it, particularly during winter.

He passes through clearing, strides across a rickety bridge over a frozen creek, and comes to a part of the forest where the trees are spaced out from each other as if trying to avoid one another.

When he finds the chopped tree trunk, he stops a short distance from it. The roots are thick and winding, arching high off the ground, and bending and twisting around each other before plunging into the soil. His feet crunch as he walks to the trunk, getting heavier the closer he approaches.

There was nothing special or distinctive about it. It’s only when Granny told him about its’ significance while he was a young boy that he came to see it as anything but an ordinary tree.

The tree had once stood tall, towering high over his head like all the others around it. He remembers the birds in the branches, the cool shade the leaves provided on hotter days. He'd sat in it's branches a few times, but it didn't offer him the view that other taller trees did.

He’s found animals huddled beneath the roots, taking shelter from the snow and wind. The trunk offers little shelter, but perhaps it was better than nothing. He recalls the time he found an injured rabbit, it’s leg and paw bleeding. It was a death sentence in winter, and he couldn’t bare to let it suffer like that. He’d brought it home, only for Granny to say they couldn’t help it. She’d brought him along to give it to another resident in the Junrinan. They eventually found a family who had a rabbit already, but the whole time while Granny spoke with them and then thanked them, their focus had been solely on her.

Then at some point a wild storm had snapped the tree in two, and not long after, someone had come and chopped what remained down, leaving only the stump and roots. It hadn’t been the only tree affected by the decades, a few were also cut down or had been snapped in half, but they were further away, almost out of sight from his.

He remembers bringing Granny to it after discovering it'd been cut down. She hadn't been as sad as he'd hoped.

"It's a shame it was cut down," she laments, even while smiling. "It was also a shame that the storm snapped it in two. I really thought it sprout anew." Her expression brightens as she points to the stump. "But look, Toshiro, you can see the rings now. You can see how old it is."

"What good does that do?" he'd groused.

"Well, it tells you how much it's seen. It seems like a very old tree, perhaps even as old as the Junrinan. It would've seen a lot."

"Trees don't have eyes, Baa-chan.”

"No, they don't, but who's to say they don't have senses that don't help them see their surroundings? Everything is alive here. It lives for years, and even when it passes away, it lives on here in some shape or form."

He'd shaken his head, perturbed by her ramblings. Even so, as the years went on, and he kept coming back again and again, he did find himself looking at the rings.

Today, he’d meant to come by earlier during the daytime, where he could better make out the number of rings in the wood. He’s lost count for the number of times he’d tried to use those rings to try figuring out at what point he had been been amongst its roots.

The feeling returns thick and fast, clasping around his throat, making him feel heavy in the chest. It's something both heartfelt and dreadful, and he doesn't want to acknowledge the source.

Memories of his day in the World of Living with Hinamori five months ago come up unbidden. She’d remembered having a sibling and parents. What did that feel like? Would it be the same for him when Granny passed away? Unlike like her, however, he'd remember Granny until he died in the Soul Society. Given the de-zombification process he underwent during the war against the Quincy, that time will likely be coming sooner than he expects.

“Shiro-chan?”

He startles. Looking to his right, Hinamori stands a short distance away, a shawl wrapped around her shoulders and a scarf wound around her neck, brow pinched in concern. She holds a round, paper lantern, the one Granny would take to festivals. The candle within is steady, but at even the slightest movements, it flickers.

“Are you okay?” she asks, coming closer. “You weren’t out the back so I came looking for you.”

The slight stagger in her steps betrays just how worried she is. He reigns in his expression to his usual stoicism. “I’m fine, just wanted to go for a walk.”

He doesn't miss the brief tug in the corners of her lips. She comes to a stop at his side and her gaze falls to the tree trunk. She raises the lantern to illuminate it. “You’re back here again.”

He says nothing, simply staring at the rings in the wood.

Several times during their childhood when they were in the forests, he’d ended up coming back here and she tagged along. Eventually, after much badgering on her part and convincing himself he can trust her – because somehow he’d befriended her -- he told her the story behind the tree.

“Did you follow my reiatsu here?” he eventually asks.

“I did sense it, but honestly” – she lets out a weak snort – “I just followed your footprints.”

He glances past her. Indeed, his footsteps are still visible in the snow. He gives a quiet ‘humph’.

She blinks at the nonplussed response. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

Now that she’s asked a second time, he feels he owes her a more honest answer, but it doesn’t reach his lips. “Why did you look for me?”

“It’s like I said, you weren’t on the veranda.”

“You knew I’d come back, though, right?”

“Well, yes, but…” She lets out a sigh. “You seem -- I don't know...out of sorts. Is it because it's your birthday?"

He rolls his eyes. “You know I don’t care about celebrating my birthday.”

“And it’s fine that you don’t, and it’s okay that you feel about it the way you do. But still, you’re not usually like this. You’re not normally this quiet and…” She purses her lips. “Did something happen?”

His gaze narrows at the trunk.

“Did you not like your gift?”

He shakes his head. “No, I like the mug. I appreciate it.”

She relaxes at the softness of his response. She lets out another sigh, this one quieter, and shuts her eyes. “I’m sorry. Rangiku-san and I had this surprise planned, and we just wanted to make sure we hadn’t done anything to upset you. We know you don’t really celebrate your birthday, it’s why we chose to do something quieter with Obaa-san.”

Great, now she’s feeling guilty. “Stop that. I don’t mind what you and Matsumoto did.”

She opens her eyes. “Still, I probably should’ve asked you what you wanted.”

“And you know what my answer would’ve been.”

She the corners of her lips tighten, but she says nothing.

“I…don’t mind that you and Matsumoto do this.” It’s a hard thing to admit, but he continues, “Like you said, you keep it quiet, nothing loud or big. I prefer it that way. If you want to do it, then you should keep doing it. I don't mind if it's...if it's you three.”

Her smile is like the sunrise melting the snow. He hates the thump his heart gives seeing it.

“We do it because it’s fun," she clarifies, "but also because we want to show you that your birthday is worth celebrating, even if you don’t believe it yourself.”

Is he truly that transparent to her? No, she’s known him for decades, three years shy of a century now. She’s also always been good at reading people, even when she doesn’t fully know what’s going on in their heads, she can at least something has changed in them.

“If you don’t want to tell me what’s on your mind, then that’s fine," she continues. "We just want to make sure it’s not something we did, and if it were, what we can do to make amends.”

You could never hurt me. It’s not entirely true. She had a few times, but all those instances are either forgiven or there was no need to forgive in the first place.

At his silence, Hinamori returns her attention to the chopped trunk. “Why did you come here? Because it’s your birthday?”

“I usually do,” he answers.

“Funny, I don’t think you’ve ever mentioned it.”

“It’s not exactly something that comes up in conversation. Besides, I’m used to being here on my own.”

“Oh…then, do you want me to --?”

“It’s fine.”

Another silence, but it’s filled by the wind picking up, ruffling their clothes and rattling the branches of the other trees. A thin dusting of snow washes over his shoes. He shakes it off and crosses his arms into his sleeves. He tries to ignore the awkwardness and think of something to say. They could head back, and he can bury whatever is going on within him somewhere deep, until it rises to surface again later -- no doubt in the late hours of the night when he's trying to sleep.

“It’s amazing.”

Hinamori’s voice is so soft Hitsugaya wonders if he heard her right. He quirks a brow at her.

She gestures to the roots at their feet. “There you were in the middle of winter at night. That kind of weather is something most Souls can’t bear to be out in, but here you were, alive.”

Involuntarily, the memories of Granny recounting how she found him flutter before his mind’s eye. She’d been out foraging for roots and vegetables, then collecting firewood. The day had grown dark quickly and a blizzard descended upon the forest. She’d lost her way home, stumbling through the trees, trying to not get suffocated by the wind and snow.

Amidst it all, she heard a baby crying and followed it. When she saw him from a distance nestled among the tree’s roots, she thought he was an animal, until she realised the crying was coming from him. She found him wrapped in a blanket, with only a tuff of white hair and one his eyes peaking through. She took him home and the rest is history.

“I suspect Hyourinmaru kept me alive,” he offers. “Before they're even aware that they have the capabilities or a zanpakuto spirit, a Shinigami’s powers can emerge in different ways.”

Her eyes brighten. “Yes! I didn’t realise it when we were kids and you would dress in fewer layers in the winter compared to others, but when I thought about it, your tolerance for the cold must’ve been because of Hyourinmaru’s powers.”

Her gaze darkens to sombreness. Quietly, she crouches and gently lays down the lantern before resting a hand on one of the roots. “Even so, no one could’ve known that at the time. Not to mention you were a baby, your powers wouldn't have been anywhere near as strong as they are today. I don’t understand how someone could leave…” She bites her lip, the rising anger dying immediately. “Ah, sorry.”

“Don’t be.” His monotonous tone only makes her wince. “It happened. I was left here.”

That feeling clutches at him again, tightening his throat. He swallows against it. If he speaks his mind to her, would it go away? It’s rare that confiding to her makes him feel worse afterward; he can’t even remember the last time it had gone badly. “But what if I wasn’t?”

“Uh?”

“What if I wasn’t abandoned by any parents?”

Hinamori’s brow furrows and her eyes widen. “What are you saying? That you were kidnapped and left here?"

It sounds like a scenario from one of the novels she reads. "No, that I didn't have any parents to being with."

She blinks, bewildered. "But everyone has parents.”

With some gumption, he meets her gaze. “What if I didn’t? What if I was just…there? Created by something else.”

"How would that be possible?”

“Kurotsuchi did it in his labs with Nemuri. What’s to say it hasn’t been done in ways beyond methods like this? There's so much that's been created here long before Twelfth Division was created, before any of us were born or brought here.”

Hinamori slowly stands, her gaze flickering between him and the chopped trunk before them.

“Is this because of the rumors?" she eventually asks. "The ones about you being the reincarnation of a heavenly guardian?”

“No, of course not.” His stomach drops and that feeling, hollow and tremulous, rushes through him.

Utterly flummoxed, Hinamori shakes her head. "Hitsugaya-kun, what...you're not making any sense."

"Very little about our world does." It's a defensive response, one he regrets saying immediately.

Ever since he came back from the World of the Living, he'd considered on and off his origins, and an belief had floated back to the surface, sticking to his mind like ice to glass.

There was a time when he fully believed he didn’t have parents, that he’d simply appeared from nothing. As if the forces that drive the worlds brought together the coldest elements of winter and formed him amongst the tree roots. It’d be like one of those tales Granny told him and the other children, but the reality of it was not fantastical. Still, it’s better than considering the alternative.

Having said it aloud, however, he realises how strange he sounds. How...childish it sounds.

"All right, maybe that is what happened," Hinamori concedes. "Given your powers and abilities, they're beyond most Shinigami's capabilities. It might be hard to imagine someone with such power being born from two Souls."

He thought he'd feel a vindicated by her words, but they only worsened the feeling running through him. It makes his heart both clench and beat faster and his breathing slightly labored.

"But then, even if that is the case, that you don't have any parents...what does it change?"

The question stuns him. His widened eyes return to her, but her gaze, soft and forlorn, is on the tree trunk.

"You were still left here, alone," she says, struggling to get the words out. "You cried out until someone found you. Whether it was due to your powers alone or because something create you, you survived. That you survived on such a night is incredible."

He swallows against the tightness in his throat, but it doesn't alleviate it. He stares at the roots at his feet, trying, as he had many times, to imagine himself there. A baby, so small and fragile, who shouldn't have survived.

"I can't say for certain if I'm lucky or not that I'm still aware that I was brought here from the World of the Living," she continues, "but what I do know is the circumstances of our births don’t determine who we are." She raises her head to him, a soft smile shaping her lips. "I’ve met a lot of people who have taught me that. You helped me remember that five months ago."

He can feel an argument on his tongue, about how it determines the lives of nobles and higher-class Shinigami, or the those in poverty. To be born in either environment has to fundamentally inform how someone sees themself and the world around them.

As if sensing the counter argument, she sighs. "Of course, I can only speak from my own experience, I suppose. Perhaps it's better to say...it's up to an individual how much they let their birth determine who they are. For me, knowing I was brought here and had memories of life as a Human for a time, I know I can’t go back to that old life, and I will more than likely never see my old family ever again. Just because I had forgotten them and the place I once called home doesn’t mean they don’t live on in me, that I was a bad person to forget them."

Her eyes rim with a film of tears. Hitsugaya raises a hand. "Hinamori?"

Her smile widens and she shakes her head. "I'm okay, just remembering our day in the World of the Living. It's hard to describe what I felt that day, and I still can't believe I acted the way I did."

"It couldn't be helped."

"And that's how I was able to cope. Because you were there with me, helping me. As Shinigami, it’s expected we forget our past lives for a reason. It’s inevitable, because to start a new life, the old one must be wiped away. Still, you stood there with me and let me try to remember. You let me decide if I wanted to face it or not, whichever path I chose, you would be there for me, right?"

The constricting feeling recoils for a moment, but he says nothing, only biting the inside of his cheek against the warmth that flushes through his chest. He'd hardly done anything, had actually felt he was helpless while watching her get so distressed. Yet he still knew that if she left that place she'd regret it.

"But that’s all besides the point," she continues. "That life is gone. Those Humans are gone. I’ve chosen to think they’re still a part of me, even if it’s on an unconscious level, and I know there’s more to me than the past I don’t remember anymore.”

It feels like she's taken him on a long and winding road. With a steady breath out, he asks, "What're you getting at?"

"I'm saying you’re more than where or when you were born.” Her smile widens a fraction. “And if the circumstances of your birth really matter that much to you, I'll be here with you to work through it, like you were for me in the World of the Living.”

She would. She’ll help him, no matter how far he went with this. He’s moved, but not enough to shake off this feeling. "Try telling that to the residents in the Junrinan."

He immediately regrets the words leaving his mouth when her smile falter. "Children don't know better, they need to be taught."

"It wasn't just them either. It was everyone, Hinamori."

Her gaze wavers between something harder and something he feared was pity. It set him off. He tries and fails to bite down the harsh words that spill out of him. "They may have been ignorant about the source, but they knew. They knew something was off about me, made me different. Made me dangerous. Do you remember what they use to call me? Do you remember how they treated you for being near me? Baa-chan got off lightly, because everyone knew her, but even then, I know they wanted to question about why she took in a freak of nature."

She lets out an alarmed, choked-up sound. "Stop it!"

"Do you think the instructors were immune too?" he continues, ignoring her. "They wanted to know where I came from, who my parents were. When they found out about Baa-chan, they couldn't believe it. When I told Cap -- Kurosaki about it when he was captain, he couldn't believe it."

"He wouldn't have --!"

"Judged me for it? No, he didn't. Matsumoto didn't either. Children found alone and adopted into families is the norm in the Soul Society. But aside from you and a few others, no knows that about me. They see the prodigy. They see the captain of Tenth Division. I can't be anything less than that."

Anger flickers across Hinamori's face. "But that's the thing, Shiro-chan! You've always tried to live up to what others thought of you, whether you thought you had a choice in it or not! Don't you see?" She falters, letting out a quiet, shaky gasp. "You’re more than your powers and abilities. You're more than the child prodigy the instructors and captains said. You're so much more, and you can be even more if you want to. You don't have to be what others think you should be, or even what you think you should be."

Without warning, she closes the gap between them and takes one of his hands into both of her own. As she speaks, her voice quivers, "You might have been made from nothing or you might have been left here by someone. The point is you're here with us, and you've done so much good, and you're a good friend, my...my best friend, even."

She raises his hand, bringing it close to her bowed head. "So please, don't say such things about yourself. Don't think your abandonment makes you lesser or call yourself a 'freak' again, please.”

A gasp is wrenched out of him as the sensation come crashing down on him. His heart constructing and beating in his ears, his mind racing with her words.

Oh. He’d been weak. It hits him like being bounced off a wall. The tears rimming the edges of his eyes shocks him just as much as it does Hinamori.

“Shiro-chan?” she gasps.

"I..." he lets out a breath that completely takes the air out of his lungs. When he tries to breathe back in again, it's a struggle as he nearly doubles over. "I don't know what just happened."

Hinamori's hands slide away from his and come to rest on his shoulders. "Maybe you need to sit down."

He pulls his hand out from hers and sits back on top of the trunk. He only realises what he's done when Hinamori eyes him uncertainly, but he feels no need to move. She ends up next to him. Given the cramped space, her thigh pressed against the side of his and her shoulder resting against his. He barely registers it, trying to blink away the unshed tears.

"It sounds like you had a lot on your mind," she says, tentatively.

"Yeah." He slouches forward, resting his forearms on his knees. He doesn't trust himself to not cry if he starts speaking. How had it gotten to this point? Like it always had, with him throwing whatever bothered him so far away he could almost forget about it, until it inevitably finds him again, and he would just throw it away again.

He only believed he was created by something greater because he couldn’t face it. That he likely did have parents, and they did not want him. A birth from nothing was fitting for the child prodigy bestowed with the powers of the most powerful ice zanpakuto and the capability and aptitude to become a captain of the Gotei Thirteen at such a young age. An abandoned child belonged to a Soul who’d been ostracized, even by the very people who created him.

Looking through his bangs, Hinamori is waiting, expression concerned but calm. If he does end up shedding tears, at least it's only her witnessing it. It wouldn't be the first she has, but he hopes this will be the last.

“I’m sorry,” he apologises, “What I said before was uncalled for.”

“I’m sorry too,” Hinamori says, ashamed gaze falling to her lap. “I was harsh.”

He shakes his head. “You weren’t. What you said was true.” He swallows, and the tightness eases away, leaving a rasp in his voice he tries to ignore as he continues, “When you recalled your old life, I got to thinking about where I came from. It hasn't bothered me since I was a child, I don't understand why it is now."

Hinamori takes hold of his hand again, keeping it between them, but she says nothing.

He loosely curls his fingers around hers and straightens, casting his gaze to the sky. The clouds have parted, giving them a decent view of the stars. This far away from the Junrinan, there's so many of them. "It might be this peace we've enjoyed for the last eleven years. It makes one reflective, like when the war against the Quincy came to an end."

Hinamori nods, but again says nothing.

"I never expected to think about this again, I thought there was nothing further to consider.” He lowers his head. "Baa-chan raised me, and yet a part of me wants to know what happened that night. I’ll never get that answer..."

"It's wanting that closure but never getting it." Hinamori squeezes his hand. "Maybe you could, if you go investigating into the past. There must be records of some kind you can look into. I'm certain there's birth records kept by medical practitioners in the districts, and with Junrinan being one of the higher districts, there's a great chance of record keeping being accurate." She winces. "But then, if you were born in another district and ended up in the Junrinan, then it might be a different story."

She keeps going, offering suggestion after suggestion. He finally looks at her. The glow of the lantern at her feet softens her features, changing the color of her eyes to amber and her hair to a honeyed brown.

Here she is trying to offer him ways to help find his past. She said she's stay by his side in this. She'd also said he was more than his birth. Of course she would. She can see beyond the parts of Souls that most zero in on. She acts like they’re another trait, something that might inform her judgement of them but they didn’t make up the whole of a Soul.

He remembers his days before the Academy. Before the Seireitei, he’d struggled to find his place in the Soul Society. He’d thought it would be by Granny’s side, living with her and helping her with chores. That purpose became harder and harder to commit to whenever he saw Hinamori return from her breaks at the Academy, and a part of him always tried to snuff out the longing to be where she was. He didn’t trust Shinigami, but he trusted her and was jealous of the people she got to meet, how they seemed to understand each other

He'd been searching for that understanding for most of his childhood, and hadn’t really found it until he became a seated officer. Had it stemmed from not just from his reoccurring dreams, but from not knowing how he was born as well?

His free hand brushes over the tree trunk’s rings. If Granny was right and this tree could somehow see things, it would’ve seen who left him here. It would’ve seen that and more and never be able to share it, only it’s age once it’d been cut down.

No, this isn’t about closure. It’s about living up to something he doesn’t always have to be. It’s about wanting to be stronger for her, for everyone. It’s about that helplessness he’s experienced time and again, whether it was in battle or in comforting Hinamori. It about the grief of a young boy who couldn't understand why he'd been left behind on such a night.

It’s a quiet revelation, one that doesn’t even make him shed the tears still blurring the edges of his vision. It only makes him let out a long, quiet breath that fogs in the air. And with it, the feeling recedes entirely.

Hinamori is still talking, because of course she is. She’s still trying to help, still sitting with him even when she doesn’t know what’s going on in his head or when he doesn’t give her a clear answer. He would never think of one who had been abandoned as a child as being lesser of pitiable, but he doesn’t extend the same courtesy to himself. She saw it as something to be a part of him, not all of him, and that he had survived as an amazing feat. She didn’t see how he did, and no else did either. It's a lonely thought, but comforting all the same.

“There’s no use.”

She stops, widened eyes blinking at him. “What?”

He smiles. “Even if I did go looking, it’s not going to give me what I really want.”

Hinamori frowns. “Shiro-chan?”

He sighs, rueful. “I’m sorry, I’ve put you through a bit just now. It’s…hard to explain.”

He expects her to press him further, to try and understand him, but her expression shifts from bewilderment to something softer. Does she think this is like her experience in the World of the Living, when she couldn’t articulate to him the emotions she experienced? Perhaps they are.

"Can I ask, then, what do you want?"

It's said so earnestly he wishes he could give her a clearer answer. maybe one day, when this is far enough behind him, he can tell her then.

For now, he clarifies, "I can live without closure. I have so far. Baa-chan will always be the person who raised me. She’s my family. I have lived a life since that day, been defined by many things. My birth isn't really one of them, it hasn't been for a long time now.” He bring his free hand over their joined ones. "Thank you."

Hinamori tilts her head, trying to process what he'd said. After a long moment, she lets out a long sigh. "Oh, Shiro-chan, you can be confusing sometimes."

"Quit it with the nickname."

She ignores him. "So, you don't want to go looking for your parents?"

He shakes his head. "I think it's best to leave that in the past."

"If you're sure, and if you change your mind..."

"I know."

"Okay. Then, are you okay now?"

"I'm better."

She slips one hand out to rest on top of his. "I'm glad." Then, half teasing, "Though I'm not sure exactly what I did to earn a rare 'thank you' from you."

He snorts. "You don't need to." He withdraws his hands and stands. "Come on, we should head back."

Their trek home is silent but companionable. He wonders what is in store for him when he returns. A dramatic lecture from Rangiku that he had them all worried? Granny disappointed that he didn't tell her he was going for a walk?

When his childhood home comes into view, he finds neither. Granny stands on the veranda, a shawl around her shoulders. The wind sweeps a few stray strands of hair across her face and flutters the ends of her garments. Her lips are devoid of her usual smile.

“Baa-chan!” Hitsugaya rushes away from Hinamori, slowing only when he reaches the stairs. “You shouldn’t be out here! It’s freezing.”

She shakes her head. “I’m fine, Toshiro.”

She steps forward. While he’s down on the ground and she up on the veranda, she a few inches taller than him. It’s strange like this, he hasn’t been able to meet her gaze without tilting his head up since he was a young boy.

He lets out a quiet, startled sound when she places a hand on his cheek. To his relief it’s warm; she mustn’t have been out here long.

“I was worried,” she says. “I know you’re able to take care of yourself now, but I wasn’t used to you being gone for this long. Are you all right?”

He almost crumbles again. She’s the last person he ever wants to for worry for him. He nods, solemn. “I’m all right, Baa-chan. I just needed to get some air and think on a few things. Hinamori was with me.”

That elicits a smile from her. She briefly looks over his shoulder at Hinamori, giving a subtle nod “Of course helped you."

He can't decide if he's annoyed and comforted by the fact she knows their bond too well, that his childhood friend is capable to pulling him out of dark places.

“Don’t be afraid to tell her what you feel, Toshiro.”

His eyes widen. How far away is Hinamori? Can she hear them? “What?” he hisses.

“I’ve seen the way you look at her, your Lieutenant has as well.” She lets out a huffy laughter at his rapid blinking. “Don’t keep her waiting.”

“W-What are you --?!”

“Now, now, you should come inside.” Then, to Hinamori, who's steps he hears coming up behind him. “I’ve poured the tea you prepared.”

“Oh, thank you!”

Granny gives his cheek a gentle pinch before returning inside. Hitsugaya is left dumbfounded and wishes the cold would cool the heat radiating from his face.

"Are you all right?" Hinamori asks when she steps past him. "Your face is all --"

"Fine." With stiff steps he heads back into the house. "Where's that tea?"

Hinamori lingers behind as he steps through the doorway.

Rangiku, sitting at the kotatsu, rears her head back at the sight of him. “There you are!”

“You act like I’ve done something wrong,” he snarks.

“Wel, you did! You walked away on your birthday!”

“I thought, by your logic, I COULD DO WHATEVER I WANTED ON MY BIRTHDAY.”

“Well, yeah, but…No, now you’re just twisting my words!”

Granny chuckles as she brings over the tray with the pot of tea. “I think we should all discuss this over some tea, no?”

Hitsugaya removes his shoes and Rangiku leans forward, setting up the cups for Granny to pour -- including the mug he'd been gifted. She glances back at him and gives him a smirk, while he rolls his eyes.

“I bought this brew from the South Second District,” Hinamori says, coming back into the house. “I hope you all like it.”

“It smells amazing,” Rangiku comments.

“I’m sure we will,” Granny chimes in.

Hinamori stops to look at Hitsugaya. She has that searching gaze, the once she uses when she wants to make sure he’s okay. He only returns her stare, letting her see he’s fine now. Satisfied, she grins sweetly – and again his haeart thumps in an embarrassing manner he barely manages to conceal from his face – then blows out the candle in the lantern and sets it aside, takes her shoes off and scarf, and joins the other two at the kotatsu.

Hitsugaya closes the door behind him, but remains where he is, watching them again. Rangiku hands Hinamori her cup, Granny puts the pot of tea aside and sits back, and Hinamori thanks them both for preparing it.

He thinks back to earlier in the night, when Rangiku had asked him to make a wish before blowing out the candles. He doesn’t have one still, because as sentimental as it was, looking at the three before him – his lieutenant who set him on the path to discovering who he was, his grandmother who chose to raise him, and the childhood friend who never left him behind no matter the distance – and thinking of the people in his life who aren’t here at this moment, he had everything he wanted. He’ll be damned if he’ll ever admit it aloud though.

“What’re you smiling about?” Rangiku asks, smirk returning wider.

He doesn’t have the strength to over it up. “It’s a nice night.”

That turns her smirk into a smile.

“Why are you still back there?” Hinamori adds, turning her head over her shoulder to see him. “Come on, there’s a cup here for you too.”

#hitsuhina #hitsuhina week 2024 #toshiro hitsugaya #momo hinamori #rangiku matsumoto #fanfiction #angst #this one ended up being hard to write #mainly because I felt Hitsugaya was getting out of character #in the end I let it happen that way #but I may come back to rewrite this one

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shitpostingkats · 7 months ago

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Pinning Down Every Shinjuku Reapers Hanafuda Suit

In The World Ends With You, there are a total of twelve (named) reapers, each corresponding to a member of the chinese zodiac. They continue this design philosophy in NEO, with all of the Shinjuku reapers being based off a different suit of Hanafuda.

Let's start with the ones we know.

(post does contain spoilers)

Tsugumi - January, Crane

Conveniently, most of the reaper's birth months point to their suit, as well as their noise forms, for the ones that have them. Tsugumi is a new years baby, and Grus Cantus is from the hikari card. (Each suit is divided into four cards, with higher point cards being marked with an animal or object, and I'm gonna be honest, this is about all I know. This post is not a comprehensive guide for how to play hanafuda.)

Ayano - May, Iris

Skipping forward a few months, we have Ayano, born May 18th, and using the iris. Every suit, along with having a month associated with it, also has a plant, which is used on every card in the suit. Ayano is pretty much the only reaper who uses her suits flower, rather than an image from a hikari or tane card.

Shiba - June, Butterflies

Born June 21, his noise form is butterflies. Not much to say. I guess I could point out how he's the only of three reapers who wears a symbol of his suit inspiration on his non-noise-form person (necklace). The other two are:

Susukichi - October, Deer

The deer skull is on his tshirt, as well as being able to see a little of his tattoos, which we see later is also a stylized skull and antlers. Birthday matches; October 13th.

Hazuki - December, Phoenix

Ah, the mysterious Haz. The first of our reapers to have a birth month that does not match his hanafuda inspiration. (According to the official guidebook, his birthday is May 5th)While the Phoenix Cantus isn't his noise form, it is mentioned in the secret reports that he is the one responsible for shaping the soul pulvis into that form. Also, like our previous two reapers, he wears his motif on his civilian clothes, in the little phoenix symbols on his jacket. Him being a phoenix is also likely to make him a further foil to Joshua, as they both are the only mythological animals in their respective groups.

Now lets get into the less clear cut ones.

Minamimoto - July, Boar

I know what you're thinking! "Minamimoto isn't a Shinjuku reaper! Also, he isn't a boar, he's a catboy." Undoubtedly true. But he is used caught up in their scheme, purposefully absorbing the soul pulvis and afterwards Leo Cantus manifests with tusks and a snout. What even more interesting is it's very likely his original noise form was a boar as well. But a boar from the chinese zodiac. While he is a lion in the original game, a lion kinda clashes with the Shibuya hierarchy. And between Sho being process-of-elimination the pig, as well as setting up during week two in Pork City. Which could imply that Leo Cantus Armo is a regression to a more berserk and less enlightened state, literally sending Minamimoto back to his roots, before he radicalized and broke away from the Shibuya Reapers.

Kubo - August, Geese

Like Haz, Kubo doesn't have a noise form, but he does have strong narrative ties to the Soul Pulvis, which manifest as a flock of aggressive birds that fly in a V formation. Also, his birthday is August 14.

According to Nomura, Kubo was added late in the writing process. Initially, Nomura wanted to add two characters, but the writer gave him a concerned look, so he settled for just Kubo. Not only is this incredibly funny, we'll be looping back to this.

Hishima - September, Sake Cup

His surname, Sakazuki, is actually the name of the specific sake cup pictured in the September suit. It's the one you see in used in cermonial exchanging of sake, like weddings or yazuka deals. Considering his subplot with Shiba, themes like "brotherhood" and "marriage" are pretty fitting. Once again, the birth month matches: September 7th.

Shoka - November, Swallow

Asterisk. Once again, the cat themed characters of Shibuya have it complicated.

Shoka's birthday is March 30, which is the suit of the cherry blossom. This is further supported by her surname being Sakurane, which was originally made for the protagonist of NEO, to go with Neku's surname being Sakuraba. However the name was given to Shoka as they thought it fit her better. Internally, she is sort of a dual protagonist, being labelled in the data as ch002 and getting billing right after Rindo's actor in the credits.

But her online alias of Swallow points pretty directly to the November suit, and its tane card which features a Swallow. As mentioned earlier, Nomura initially wanted one more Shinjuku reaper character than we end up seeing in the game, so its possible Shoka got some design elements merged together from two different suits so as to not waste any creative material. Or she's just meant to be both and I'm overthinking it.

Kaie - Febuary, Plum Blossom, Warbling White-Eye

We've got ten out of twelve suits catagorized! This, unfortunately, means we are gonna have to start making some guesses.

Kaie's birth month is no help, being November, where Shoka is already using the Swallow symbolism. If we're continuing the tradition of using animal cards, Kaie is either the warbler or the cuckoo. I'm gonna be honest folks, I'm partial to the warbler just because of Kaie's eyebags.

Anyone else see it?

Also, "warbling" could be a a reference to Kaie's preference to not speak, because while he communicates mostly through text, he does have a few voicelines near the end of the game, which shows us his voice is quiet and with a little bit of a stutter. Also, it leaves the last suit open for:

Tsugumi's brother - April, Wisteria, Cuckoo

I bet you thought I forgot about him! Yes, our last suit is the April suit, represented by hanging wisteria and the cuckoo.

Cuckoo's are, for better or for worse, famous for their brood parasitism: a cuckoo will lay its eggs in another birds nest, and when it hatches, the young cuckoo chick will attempt to push all the other eggs out, so it can have the parents sole attention. Tsugumi and her brothers' relationship does not seem anything like that, but it is worth noting that they are only reapers who are related. I think the cuckoo's parasitism is more likely a reference to how her brother was a high-ranking Shinjuku reaper who nonetheless "betrayed" the hierarchy and tried to defy Haz's schemes.

Wisteria is a symbol of love, longevity, and endurance. His final act in death was to protect his sister, ensuring she would survive.

#can you tell im procrastinating on writing #twewy #ntwewy #the world ends with you #neo the world ends with you #neo the world ends with you spoilers #ntwewy spoilers #shoka sakurane #sho minamimoto #ayano kamachi #shiba miyakaze #tanzo kubo #kaie ono #hishima sakazuki #kaichi 'susukichi' susuki #susukichi #tsugumi matsunae

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feeder-fics · 2 years ago

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Challenge Accepted

It was a passing comment that was stuck in your mind.

“God, these pants are getting really snug.”

Your girlfriend had said it while getting ready to run errands the previous weekend - so casually, as if it wasn’t going to affect you.

It hasn’t affected you. It had consumed your thoughts for the next week. You finally decided to do something about after staring at the pants for nearly five minutes while doing laundry.

You took note of the size and bought her new ones online, a pair of the next two sizes up. You had goals to reach.

Now just to decide how she was going to outgrow those pants. A long weekend of stuffing her favorite foods seemed to be the winning option.

That was until you remembered a fun little thing tucked away in the closet. You had only used it a few times, but your girlfriend had enjoyed it.

A funnel.

It had been a gift you tried out on her birthday. A little funnel of heavy cream to end her birthday cake stuffing.

Your birthday and anniversary were the only other times you had used it - just to top off the end of the meal.

Although there was no important date, your girlfriend going up a size was something to celebrate.

A new idea sparked as you prepared for the night. Originally you just wanted her to stuff enough throughout the weekend that she would finally pack on enough to size out of the pants the next time she tried them on.

Now, you were going to pop her right out of those tight jeans. It was going to be beautiful.

You had everything set up for Friday night. You had gone back and forth on just using heavy cream or shakes. Between the desire for her to actually be full with nutrient dense shakes and the idea of all those calories sticking to her belly, shakes had to be the choice.

She was given firm instructions for the day. Put on her jeans with whatever shirt she liked. Light snacking all day and only water. You wanted her to put in the work to get out of those jeans.

When you got home from work, you couldn’t help but praise your sweet girl. She had everything set up exactly as you asked and you could tell she was excited, maybe even more excited than you.

“Ready, baby? Can you wait patiently for me just a bit longer? I have a surprise.”

She knew that you wanted to have a nice stuffing session tonight, but she wasn’t fully aware of your entire plan.

The shakes you prepared were the most calorie dense recipes you could find - not so rich that your girlfriend would grow tired of it quickly but packed with hefty ingredients and topped off with gaining powder.

You return to the living room with your haul, watching her eyes grow wide. It was clear she wanted to ask what you had planned, but the full blender and funnel were pretty obvious.

“I…uh, I should go change - get comfortable for this, I think,” she said, her voice letting you know that she was just as turned on by the idea as you were.

“Oh no, you aren’t going to change. You are going to earn it.”

“Earn it?”

“Mhm, open up.”

She looked at you with wide eyes before dutifully opening her mouth, waiting for the tube. You placed the end of the tube on her tongue and gently nudged her back to relax into the couch.

You grabbed the blender and began to pour the thick mixture into the funnel, anticipation at its highest. She moaned as the first drops of the shake hit her tongue and she hungrily started downing it.

To ensure she didn’t choke, you poured it steadily but enough to go down quick. You knew from experience that the fastest she went, the more she got down.

A quick tap to your leg came halfway through the blender, her asking for a breath. You stopped pouring and starting to massage her stomach, already noticing the healthy bloat developing at the top. Her tight jeans getting even more snug - angry, red lines scattered across her skin.

You lifted the blender once again and continued the stream of fattening shake down the tube. Little whispers of praise constantly falling from your lips as she swallowed it all down without complaint.

The end of the shake came quicker than you expected. Her jeans were definitely struggling, the button hanging on for dear life. You gave her stomach a gentle press eliciting another guttural moan from your girlfriend.

“You stay put, big girl, I’m going to top this off,” you instructed, bringing a bright pink blush to her cheeks - most likely because you both were well aware that she was going nowhere without help any time soon.

You had been hopeful that it would take more than one blender-worth of weight gain shake to pop those jeans so there were two more prepped in the fridge. You could picture the look on your girlfriend’s face when this was all over and you told her that she packed in thousands of calories in just minutes.

When you returned, she was had one hand on top of the belly giving a gentle massage. Her eyes were closed and for a split second you worried that she was in pain, but she was clearly enjoying herself as you got closer.

Without warning, you quickly placed the tube back in her mouth and restarted the steady pour. Her beautiful moans returned in tandem, making the experience that much more perfect.

It seemed that the second serving was really filling her out as there was a noticeable creak in her jeans after a large swallow. You paused, attempted to dig your finger in between her skin and waistband, and smiled when there was absolutely no give left.

“My gorgeous baby, your jeans are barely hanging on. I bet that waistband is getting pretty uncomfortable, hmm?”

She nodded pitifully, playing up the act to match your energy. You could tell that she was thinking that would work on you, that you would undo her button and give her relief. She was sorely mistaken.

“Better keep going then. We aren’t done until you pop.”

Another whimper followed by a deeper moan was all you got in response as she hungrily drank down the shake. You tipped the blender all the way, the shake spilling into the funnel at full speed.

Your girlfriend did not miss a single drop. Her stomach looking as if it was beginning to protest, the area bloating and swelling more than you had ever seen before.

As you considered giving her another break, she swallowed down the last of what was in the funnel - heaving a few deep breaths afterwards. Before you could utter a word, the sound of thread stretching filled the room.

Within seconds, her belly bounced forward from her constricted jeans - the button flying off and skittering across the hardwood floor. Her stomach seemed to have doubled in size now that it was freed from the confines of her pants.

You both needed time to catch your breath, shocked by the scene that just unfolded. Although you had planned for this, nothing compared to actually seeing it happen.

Your hands found her bloated stomach, massaging any cramps away as she adjusted to having more room to breath. She was completely packed, rounded out more than you have ever seen her before.

“You okay, baby?”

“Okay? Literally never been better.”

You laughed, both endeared and aroused by your girlfriend’s honesty. This had gone better than you could have imagined, everything playing out perfectly.

“I can’t wait to see what kind of damage this shake does. Good thing I got you new pants.”

She blushed once again, hot and bothered by the idea of another sizing up in what felt like a short period of time.

As you continued your massage of her stomach, you noticed that she seemed hesitant to ask something.

“What’s wrong, baby? Do you need something?”

“Um…I was just wondering if I could finish. I know you made more and I want to be good, appreciate what you made for me.”

You smirked, proud of your good girl.

“Aw, is my big girl still hungry? Well, we can’t have that now can we?”

She feigned embarrassment even though she was clearly ready for more. She nodded and looked at you with innocent eyes. “Please, can I have the rest?”

“Of course you can, especially when you asked so nicely.”

You made a quick trip to the kitchen, grabbing the third batch of your dense shake - excited to continue. The evening was far from over.

#feeder fiction #female feedee #weight gain fic #feederism writing #nongendered feeder #pretty belly fics #weight gain #stuffing story #funnel feeding #button popping

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dulcewrites · 1 year ago

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White Christmas

Pairing: Robert ‘Bob’ Floyd x wife!reader (a spy/The Americans au)

Summary: Bob has never been one to reminisce - his job keeps him ever-moving forward. But the holidays calls for reflection. (Wc: 1k +)

Warning: this came out more angsty than I thought :/

A/N: First, just want to say Happy Holidays and or Merry Christmas to those that celebrate. I wanted to get this out a bit earlier but life was life-ing lmao. This is my submission for @lewmagoo’s a lew magoo Christmas. I can’t wait to go back and read/interact everyone’s submissions. This is based off the song by Bing Crosby. This was not the original idea I had; this is much more melancholy but I think it came out well. I could not decide if I wanted to do a fic or moodboard so I kind of put them together. Please like, reblog, and or comment if you read something you enjoy ❤️❄️

Masterlist

I'm dreaming of a white Christmas

With every Christmas card I write

May your days be merry and bright

And may all your Christmases be white

Bob has been able to mark his life through events. Not exactly just with time or his age. Instead through a series of actions and domino effects that have set his life up to where it is now. He does not remember being 10, he just remembers the little house he was taken from. He doesn’t remember being 16, just the cold, smooth metal of his first revolver. His 26th birthday, with the real day he was born, was uneventful and terribly dull.

… that was until he got the envelope.

A face. A name. A never-ending mission. A wife to be.

27 was marked by a quick wedding. 28 was cemented by a crying baby girl and the sickly-sweet smell of baby wipes he grew to love. By 30, he saw his first gray hair and one little girl turned into two. Now he wonders what he can hang 37 on. He doesn't want it to be the bodies that have been left behind or 'daddy's business trips' as Georgia says.

Bob wants more. For once he wants something different. Something softer.

An idealist with the bloody ledger of a cynic, you call him. It is always with a smile but the biting edge that your voice can have never fully leaves. Bob thinks you resent that about him while likes to believe that it is a good thing - the little tug in the bottom of his stomach that he gets. Bob does his job, and he has done it valiantly for. Some days he may say he even loves what he does. But with his love comes a soft layer of sadness. It comes with wondering if there could be more outside of kills and mission and the bullshit, he would not have chosen for himself as a child. When things were syrupy in the way everything is when you're a kid.

The wistfulness grows stronger as the weather changes, and a dusty of white magic settles over the ground. The first winter snow he can remember in a long time.

The cabin idea comes with apprehension from you. Christmas was a holiday the two of you grinned and bared for the sake of the girls, but Bob found the words slipping out of his mouth. His fingers already inched looking into places - a little blue house in the snow. He knows that face well. Brows drawn tight and mouth pursed in thought.

“Emmie mentioned wanting to go camping.”

It was a bit unfair to mention your youngest daughter, Emerson. The frown lines on your face softened a bit, followed by a resigned sigh. There was little that made you like that - malleable. He knows you would never say it out loud but only the girls could do that.

I’ll have to talk with Maverick about it. He may need us.

Then it was his turn to frown. The growing dissolution bubbled under, and it all started with Pete Mitchell. But how does one turn his back on the only real family he has known. Bob cannot say he knows Regina and Don, - the people he should think to be parents; instead, thinks he was made in Mav’s image. Just like every other agent that has come through Top Gun. Your loyalty to Mav in admirable as it is a thorn in Bob’s side.

He likes to say there is three in your relationship if he could even call it that.

But he takes what he can get from you. A knowing smile when Aria says something completely out of left field. A kiss where you don’t flinch away or tense up.

It all works together in the oxymoron that is his marriage with you. Husband and wife. Partners in crime. He loathes you as much as he couldn’t imagine doing this without you. He endlessly pines for a woman he has two children with.

Nothing has ever been easy for the two of you, and he supposes he would not have it any other way.

———

“I don’t know your real name.”

The general statement made you pause as your looked away from the fireplace in front of you. Bob was sitting on the bed, the green reindeer slippers the girls gave him matched his pullover. While him and girls seem to thrive in the cold, you hated it. You liked the uncomfortableness that came with humidity and heat. You were used to beads of sweat above the brow and clothes sticking to you back. Uneasiness was your default setting.

A snow-covered cabin is beautiful in theory, tortuous in practice.

“What,” you muttered, gaze going back to the fire. The flames danced against the brick surrounding it. The name thing was an issue he pressed. For reasons you still don’t get.

“I don’t know your real name,” he repeats. “And you don’t know mine. You don’t know anything about me before we…”

He trails off contemplatively. You shrug softly. “I think Robert suits you fine. Perfectly, even.”

There was a beat of silence. You wanted to tell him it was better this way. Life has been separated into two different parts: BB and AB. Before Bob and After Bob. It was no use focusing on what happened before then. You hope he drops the conversation, but Bob has never been one to let things go. A dog with a bone.

“Do you know why I suggested coming here?”

“You enjoy watching me freeze,” it was a joke but there is little mirth in the room.

“I grew up in a little blue cabin, sort of like this one -,”

“Bob”

“In a small town in Illinois.”

“Bob,” you hate him for this… or at least you want to hate him for this. Hate him for trying so damn hard.

“Every winter, I remember sheets of snow on ground and - and my ma-,”

“Robert,” your voice echoes a bit off the room. You fully turn to him, wishing to have bit of venom in your voice but it comes out broken. “What do you want from this? From me?”

“Why does it have to be something? Why can’t I just want you, all of you?”

Penny warned you about this. She’s taught you everything you know. And for better or worse, it has led you done a straight and narrow path.

Even in our business, people grow… attached. It will be up to you to either let them in or close it before it gets to be too much.

You wouldn’t call yourself frigid, but you are sure others would. It never bothered you really. Not as you grew older. There was a weakness in others that you simply did not have. The coldness was an easy barrier that deterred most, if not everyone you came across.

“You have me,” your fingernail scrapes across the wool blanket wrapped around you. “I am right here, aren’t I?”

Cobalt eyes mute with sadness.

“That isn’t what I meant.”

You grow more exasperated. “And you think me telling you about my past life will do that?”

“No, but I think you being honest would. Honest about how you feel about me, about the girls, would.”

Does he want you to write on a piece of paper if he loves you and make him check yes or no like you’re in the fifth grade. There was something so innocent about the look he gave you. The stunted nature of how the two of you work around each other may be less of your faults and more of the world that failed the both of you. You look at Bob now and he doesn’t seem like the man you have seen dodging bullets or choking out men twice his size. He seems so utterly human. And despite yourself, all you can think about is how much Maverick would hate it. The spurred want others to think the same.

You do love the girls, frankly more that you would like to admit. Two little knives to which people can twist. And Robert…

People get hurt, killed, when feelings are involved.

let them in or close it.

“I am tired,” you mutter. “I really don’t feel like rehashing the past. Certainly not with you.”

It is the end of the discussion, and you try not to flinch when the door closes behind him. The silence had become a gentle friend of yours. A safe companion to embrace. You wait for him to come back, thinking he must be letting off some steam outside in the cold. But 30 minutes turns into an hour and you start to think he may have crashed in one of the other rooms in the cabin.

After numbingly sitting at the fireplace, the only thing you can think to do is get ready for bed. You crave a bottle of wine but agreed to a painfully dry Christmas.

Your fingers don’t go towards the drawers where you unpacked the plethora of long Johns and sweaters you brought; they go to Bob’s instead. You know he’d probably laugh at you if he could see it, and you’d deserve it. Can’t even admit your feelings but want to sleep in one his shirts. While digging for an old Led Zeppelin shirt. Your digging is thwarted when your hand grazes across a chest inside the drawer. Biting your lip, you look towards the door. Bad things come in threes. He’s already upset you; you’re digging in his stuff… might at well get your third strike.

A familiar sinking feeling muddled in your stomach as you lift the chest to see tinier ring box in it, along with a mini snow globe. You both promised no presents this year for Christmas, but of course he wouldn’t stick to that. Your gaze goes to the simple ring on your left hand. It wasn’t something either of you picked out. It was left in the envelope you received.

“You should be happy you even get one off the bat,” Natasha sighed. “Jake gave me a ring pop as joke before Mav stepped in.”

You don’t have it in you to open the ring box, a bile stuck in your throat. But you do pick up the mini snow globe. It is like nothing you have seen before; it looks homemade. Inside a little blue cabin with sparkles dusted around it. On the bottom, tiny writing painted on. Chicken scratch that could only come from kids.

To the best wife and mommy in the world. May all your Christmases be merry and bright.

You set the snow globe back in the chest hastily, as if you have been burned.

God you’re fucked.

#robert floyd x reader #robert floyd imagine #bob floyd x female reader #bob floyd imagine #robert bob floyd #robert floyd x you #bob floyd x reader #bob floyd #Robert Floyd #top gun imagine #top gun maverick #top gun fanfiction #top gun fic #a lew magoo christmas

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