#and the depression is Swirling okay so

[stabbyfoxandrew]

these next few wipw pieces are gonna be on the short side :( sorry

[luvsupa]

tags: gojo x fem!reader, ex relationship, fluff, angst, takes place after battle w sukuna (he wins), sad ending, mentions of blood, gojo’s lowkey depressed w.c: 1k

a/n: sorry this just came out of nowhere </3

“satoru?” you call out, squinting through the bustling sidewalks of downtown tokyo, trying to confirm if it’s really him. he turns at the sound of your voice, removing one of his earbuds, his heart flipping as he sees you—this isn’t a dream. you’re really here.

it’s been a little over a year since you two broke up. despite the deep love you shared, the relationship was suffocating. you couldn’t stand watching him come home exhausted and scarred, sometimes with blood on his clothes from the dangerous missions. it hurt too much to see him treated like a weapon instead of the person he is. you begged him to leave jujutsu tech, pleading with him day and night to escape the pain that you couldn’t bear to witness.

but the final straw was that night—when he came home, slashes across his body, his clothes torn and bloodied. watching him limp from your shared apartment to the bathroom made your heart shatter. “i’m okay,” he reassured you, but you knew he was on the verge of passing out, desperately hiding his pain from you. he couldn’t let you, his sweet sweet baby, see him in this state.

“‘toru, it’s either you leave that company or i’m leaving,” you cried, your heart clenching at the thought. his identity was tied to saving non-cursed users, but without that, who was he? he stared at you in silence, and you already knew his answer. you packed your things, his tear-filled eyes followed you from the bathroom, silently apologizing for the pain he couldn’t escape.

seeing him now, you can’t help but smile, even as the memories flood back. he looks healthier, but the scars on his face are constant reminders of his battles. “i—how are you?” he stutters, still in shock.

“g-good. how’ve you been?” you reply, your heart sinking at how tired he looks.

“pretty good too,” he says, scratching the back of his head, revealing the scars on his hands. “wanna grab some coffee? there’s a shop down the street.” your eyes widen, and you nod, a mix of excitement and dread swirling inside you.

as you walk side by side, the energy between you feels familiar yet fragile. you chat about the beauty of the night, pointing out flashy sports cars.

inside the café, you sit across from each other, getting a good view of the outside. he returns with two coffees, and you thank him for paying, though you’d always insist on paying- he declined, he never let you pay for anything when you were together.

“have you left yet?” you ask, your voice trembling as you prepare for the inevitable conversation.

“heh, does it look like I’ve left?” he jokes, gesturing to his tired eyes. you wrap your hands around your cup, feeling the warmth seep into your cold fingers. silence falls between you, heavy with unspoken words.

“i miss yo—”

“i have a girlfriend.”

his words hit you like a punch to the gut. a girlfriend? your heart drops as your expression falters. why does it hurt so much?

“y-yeah, i’m seeing someone too,” you blurt out, hating yourself for the lie. the laughter that follows feels hollow, and he can see right through you.

“baby, you’re such a bad liar—” he catches himself, the pet name easily slipping past his lips. both of you stare at each other widened eyes as he mistakenly slipped up by calling you baby. he really didn’t mean to! suddenly, the air is thick with tension. you both giggle awkwardly, but inside, it tears at you—how much you miss hearing him call you that.

“if i were your girlfriend, i’d kill you for catching up with your ex and calling her baby,” you joke, but his expression remains serious. not a smile nor a chuckle, making your heart race. have you upset him?

“i mean, you were my girl,” he says, and your mind spins. my girl. you can’t help but pout, taking a sip of your coffee, your gaze drifting outside to the busy streets.

just then, his phone buzzes loudly, drawing your attention. you catch a glimpse of “A♡” on the screen. gojo’s expression shifts as he reads the message, a sadness settling over him. he has to cut your time short. you silently whine as the two of you rise from your chairs, cleaning up any mess as you both head out to leave in opposite directions.

but he stops you. his warm hands enveloping yours. “w-when can i see you again?” he stutters, his voice laced with desperation. your heart races, wanting to cry, to leap into his arms and confess your love, but that’s not an option.

“i’ll see you around, ‘toru,” you say, forcing a warm smile. rising on your tiptoes, you place a soft kiss on his cheek as he blushed hard. he tenses, the longing evident in his eyes as he fights the urge to pull you close, hugging you and kissing you as if you were his again.

“and treat your girlfriend nice,” you add, turning to walk away. each step feels heavier as a lump forms in your throat, fighting back the tears threatening to spill.

“will do,” he calls after you, trying to sound upbeat. but as he walks away, his eyes glisten, filled with unfallen tears. oh, how he misses you.

[strnilolover]

.✦ ── Moonlight Tears ── ✦.

♡ Sweet!Bf!Matt x Sad!Gf!Reader

⚠︎ Warnings : some crying, reader in their head too much, other than that it’s fluff

♡ wc : 637

♡ A/N : I literally need Matt to just hold me at least once while I’m crying. I feel like he would be so sweet and understanding and so comforting because he hates seeing his girl cry.

It was way past the time you normally were asleep by. Tossing and turning in bed while Matt slept soundly next to you, your movement not causing him to stir much.

As you flopped over one last time, you read the clock. 3:15am. You sighed turning over onto your back, staring at the ceiling as you felt your mind move rapidly through many different thoughts.

Normally you would’ve been asleep by now, cuddling up against Matt as your soft snores echoed in the room. But tonight was not that night. Your stressed mind caused you to stay awake, dark thoughts swirling in your brain as you tried your best to shut them down.

Sighing, you felt your face begin to grow hot as your throat closed. Tears rolling down your face as you turned over to face away from Matt, muffling your sobs as to not alarm him.

To no avail, Matt stirred. His body shifting as he groaned softly, head lifting from the pillow to figure out why you were so far away from him on the bed. And that’s when he saw the light shakes of your body.

He frowned, turning to face you fully in bed on his side. Scooting closer, his arm wrapped around your middle, pulling your back closer to his frame as your tears continued to roll down your cheeks. “Sweetheart, what’s the matter?” He questioned, hand rubbing soothingly over your stomach.

You shook your head, trying to escape his grasp but he wouldn’t let go. “I-I’m just — having a h-hard time sleeping.” You choked out quietly, “too many t-thoughts.”

Matt knew that you struggled with depression, anxiety too. Your mind keeping you from enjoying so many things that you once enjoyed. His hand on your stomach moved to your hip, slowly turning you over to face him now.

His other hand came up to your face, stroking his thumb along your cheek, wiping the tears. “Everything will be okay angel, just focus on my heartbeat, okay?” He whispered, pulling your head against his chest as he rubbed soothing motions on your back.

Your face buried in his chest, your cries slowed, only slight sniffles being heard. His heart was slow, the rhythmic thumps soothing your whirlwind of a mind. He whispered sweet nothings in your ear, encouraging you to breath, talking to you as if you were such a fragile being.

You didn’t mind. Eyes closed as your mind started to calm itself, arms wrapping around matt in return. You took a deep breath, body going lax against his as he continued to whisper calming words to you.

Once you felt you were okay enough, you pulled back slightly, tilting your head up to look at him. His blue eyes already looking down at you, you smiled weakly. “Thank you Matt — m’sorry for waking you.” Your voice was quiet as you mumbled the words past your lips.

He shook his head, “no, no we’re not Gonna do that,” he said firmly but gentle, his hand coming up to cup your face. “I’m always here for you. You could wake me up even if I’m fucking exhausted, and I wouldn’t hesitate to help you.” He deadpanned, a smile tugging at his lips.

You smiled back, nodding your head in understanding because you knew he was right, despite how much you wanted to argue back.

“Good.” He whispered, pulling you back into his chest. “Now get some sleep okay? I’ll be right here in the morning. M’not letting you go.” He mumbled, head coming to rest on top of your own.

You nodded, tipping your head up quickly to peck his neck before snuggling deep into his chest. Your eyes growing heavy as you were finally able to fall asleep, Matt’s arms feeling like a safe haven — like your own comfort home.

© strnilolover

[aft3rhrs]

— number: unknown ღ

pairing: jungkook x reader

genre: strangers to lovers

warnings: dead dove, yandere, manipulation, corruption, mentions of stalking, mentions of therapy, dirty talk, humiliation, obsession, mentions of masturbation & dub con sex, allusions to cnc, allusions to depression and anxiety, hints of fear kink, use of triggering words in an erotic and degrading manner* (listed under the cut).

*use of the word “rape”.

masterlist

In the last few months, you've grown used to the sound of your phone ringing late at night. It still sent your heart into a frenzy, nerves sparking up like wires — but you peeked at the screen nonetheless, taking less and less time to hesitate to answer.

Number: Unknown.

Palms sweaty, you clicked accept on the call.

A chuckle greeted you.

"Lonely?"

You tried to ignore the chill his voice sent rippling down your spine, raising goosebumps along the way.

"What do you want?"

"Don't be like that," Jungkook cooed. "I missed you. Wanted to check in. What's up? How was therapy last week?"

The question came with a tint of mockery, instantly dusting your cheeks. It wasn't surprising by now that he knew; he knew everything about you, it seemed, from soul to entrails. But you couldn't wrap your head around how, or why he even paid such close attention in the first place. All you were capable of comprehending clearly was the anger blazing in your chest.

"Screw you."

"Aw, come on," he crooned on the line. "I'm just checking up on my favorite girl. Any progress? Did you tell your therapist you let your stalker fuck you right after filing a report? Did you tell him you pick up my calls?"

You felt his words swirl and burn in your stomach, as if you downed a glass of liquor. Shame crawled all over your skin, hot and uncomfortable. Why couldn't you find it in yourself to hang up? For a moment, you considered doing just that, but then quickly brushed off the idea.

Better to entertain him like this than to have him show up at your door.

Right...?

He could hear you breathe in, the lack of an answer curving his lips upwards.

"Well, that's okay. I really don't like you seeing him, though. I'm kind of offended you went to someone else for help."

"You're the reason I need help!" You hissed, unable to stop yourself. "You're seriously sick in the head."

"What a mouthy little thing you are," Jungkook murmured. "Pretty brave for someone who claimed she's afraid of me." His voice lowered to a whisper. "Pretty hypocritical too... I might be crazy, but you're the one still talking to me. Didn't you come all over my cock like a good little girl too? I think you might be a bit sick yourself, sweetheart."

Oh god.

No.

You pretended you didn't feel yourself clench around thin air, pretended your underwear wasn't getting drenched.

"But I don't mind," he continued, raspy, "I can be your therapist, baby. I'll help you feel better."

Your eyes fluttered closed, head growing foggy.

"Why keep running? Why keep running if you always let me catch up?"

"I don't," you whispered, "I'm trying to—"

"No," Jungkook tsked, "you're not. Are you too scared to face yourself in the mirror? Do you see my eyes when you try?"

You shivered for some reason.

"No."

"That's a lie... You like it when I chase you, and no therapy is ever going to help you. You know why?" He coaxed, soft. "Do you know where your sickness lies, angel...? It's not in your head. It's in your heart. You dont trust love, you don't feel it, unless it's got you losing breath, nice and tight, like a noose. Why don't you let me give it to you?"

Despite the pounding of your heart, you tried to keep his words out of your mind, tried to focus before you disappeared so deep into the fog, you'd become a part of it. But you were so tired... and floating in the dark, weightless, felt a little more like peace.

Still, swallowing thickly, you tried.

"Do you get off on taunting all your victims like some kind of psycho?"

"Oh baby," he sighed. "How many times do I gotta tell you? You're the only girl I want. No need to get jealous."

"Go fuck yourself—"

Another chuckle, then a groan.

"I should. I really want to... Miss you so much..."

Your stomach flipped.

"Miss your mouth. Didn't have time to fuck it back then... Would you let me now?"

"No," you breathed out, shaky.

Why were you still talking to him? Why were your thighs squeezed shut so hard?

"Mmm, that's what you said last time, and yet look who ended up begging me to fill that little cunt."

Your hand tightened around your phone, the pulsing in between your legs refusing to cease and getting harder to ignore.

"I know you could take it all," he breathed. "All down your pretty throat, no complaints. Would be too busy sucking, right, baby?"

"Why even bother asking?" you whispered, your voice small, like you knew the answer already.

Because you did.

"Makes me hard," Jungkook admitted, shameless. "It's cute to see you struggle. Acting like a frightened little doe, like you weren't waiting for a wolf to eat you up."

The confession was so dirty, nothing short of predatory; but it made your cunt throb and heat stick to your underwear, and you couldn't decide if you were more disturbed by him or by your own reactions.

"Fuck..." he swore hoarsely. "All that screaming and fighting only to end up begging for it. Do you like it forced? No need to think, no need to make choices. Just taking my cock like a good little rape toy, yeah?"

You weren't able to contain the hitch of your breath, thighs quivering and spine tingling all over.

Jungkook moaned softly in response, the sound shooting straight through your pussy.

"Wanna come?"

This wasn't happening.

You were losing grasp of reality, consumed by the need to find a lifeline. You felt like you caught a fever, your reply coming out more mellow than intended.

"No. Please stop."

"You're a bad liar, little doe. Without me your body and soul feel empty. You need me as much as I need you."

Your eyes fell shut. You shook your head, repeating your denial like a prayer.

"No..."

Your brain was running on automatic, trying to hold on to some semblance of rationality.

"Does it make you feel better to say that?" Jungkook muttered. "Wouldn't it be easier to give in? I know how much you wanna sneak your hand into your panties. Go on, baby. Rub all your thoughts away. It will feel so good."

You felt your thighs tremble again, the wetness between them unbearable. It was getting harder to breathe through the rising heat, your mouth falling open, trying to catch more oxygen into your lungs.

"Go on, pretty. I'll come with you... Just say the word."

Yes.

No, that wasn't right.

Please...

"No," you forced out again, something that sounded too much like a whimper. "I'm going. Stop calling me."

Jungkook just sighed.

"Shame. Can you at least move closer to the window? Do a little twirl for me. I missed you so much..."

Your head snapped in the direction of the window, heart jumping in alarm. Jungkook seemed to know; he sounded so amused, like it was all a game. And he was winning.

"Just kidding. I have some things to do, but I will see you soon, baby."

"Jungkook—" you panicked, shaking your head, "please don't—"

"Goodnight. I love you."

Beep.

He hung up.

You hugged your knees and lowered your head onto them, welcoming the darkness that greeted you, eclipsing the faint glow of your nightlight.

Was this your fault? You were in pieces for so long; surely that must have been to blame for the sickening pull you felt to answer the phone every time he called.

Maybe that was how Jungkook had managed to get to you. Slithered in through the cracks, took advantage of all the empty spaces. Poured himself in like poison, down to the last drop. Maybe that was also why he needed you so much; there was nothing left of him but you.

You let yourself slump onto the bed, probably the last time you'd be able to sleep through the night somewhat calmly. Because when Jungkook said soon... he always meant soon.

And the clock refused to stop ticking.

taglist 💌: @whipwhoops @svnbangtansworld @ane102 @stellalovesstarss @crisle19 @jksteponme @kimseokjinsmirror1233 @dolphinmochi

[theemporium]

💛 #17 or #53 with Reg or Remus? :)

thank you for requesting!🫶🏽

53. holding the other's jaw

.

“He’s not moved in days—”

“Hours.”

“And he’s started going crazy—”

“He’s just been reading out loud.”

“And he’s—”

James nudged Sirius with his elbow, quieting the boy up as he let out a wince and rubbed his side. He then turned to you, a slightly apologetic but concerned look on his face as he tried to hide his embarrassment on the situation. 

“We are just worried,” James told you with a crease formed between his brows. “We know Moony gets a bit…weird before a full moon but he’s never been like this. And he won’t listen to us or even acknowledge us and—”

“You think I can help?” You questioned, frowning in confusion. “I don’t know if you remember, but he doesn’t exactly want me around him. He’s the one who—”

“Merlin, woman, how blind can you be?” Sirius groaned out loud, letting out a small yelp when James smacked him over the back of his head. He glared before turning his attention back to you. “No, I’m done with this! I’m tired of the mutual moping!”

James’ eyes widened. “Sirius—”

“He broke up with you because your bigoted, pureblood father threatened him and convinced him that he wasn’t worthy of dating you,” Sirius said with a serious face. “He has been downright miserable without you but he thinks he is doing the right thing and now he is…well, a heartbroken werewolf. Which, apparently before a full moon, makes him depressed and catatonic instead of testy.” 

Your heart stuttered in your chest. “He what?” 

“Please,” James murmured. “Just please try talking to him.” 

There was a rush of emotions swirling through you: anger, confusion, annoyance, utter heartbreak. All different and all directed at different people but the one shining through the brightest was sympathy—for the two boys in front of you who just so desperately wanted to help their friend in any way they could find.

You didn’t give them a chance to say anything else that could possibly leave your head spinning in the wee hours of the morning before you pushed past them, finding the boy tucked away in the back of the classroom. 

Remus was sitting at a desk in the corner, a number of books surrounding him with the largest one opened out in front of him. But his face was blank, his eyes looking expressionless and he hadn’t even budge a muscle. 

Your frown deepened as you walked towards him, noting the bags under his eyes and the sunken cheeks that just made your heart twist even more. 

“Remus?” 

His head snapped up in an instant, like your voice woke him up. He looked at you, confused and disoriented like he couldn’t quite grasp the fact you were in front of him. He blinked. And then blinked again. And he kept doing it, like he expected to open his eyes and see that you weren’t actually there.

“Oh, baby,” you murmured, your voice soft and heartbroken as you reached to gently rest your hand on his jaw as your thumb soothed over his cheek. 

“You shouldn’t be here,” he rasped, his voice rough and broken.

“I’m exactly where I need to be,” you told him, watching his eyes flutter shut as you pressed your lips against his forehead. “Let’s head to bed, okay? You need some rest.” 

And Remus didn’t have it in him to argue with you, to push you away like he knew he should have. 

He needed you as much as you needed him and he didn’t want to lose that again.

.

[jaebeomsbitch]

Slow (E.M.)

Summary: Only Eddie can cure the blues that cling to your skin like he’s balm made for your soul.

A/N: will publish the extended version later, just needed to get this out. Not edited!

Warnings: MINORS DNI YOU WILL BE BURNED AT THE STAKE, eating pussy, depression, cursing, making out

You’d been feeling sad for a while, there’s this unexplainable ache in your chest pressing into your ribs until you feel like they’ll almost crack. Eddie sees the way your eyes have dimmed. How could he not? You’d been living together for over a year now but he’s never seen you like this. So quiet, so demure. Yes you were introverted, sometimes having bouts of energy where you won’t shut the fuck up and it’s the cutest thing he’s ever seen. The way your eyes light up, you hands moving wildly.

So when you lay in your bed sheets quietly, no book in your hand Eddie looks at you with this sadness in his eyes. It’s not pity, it’s concern. His girlfriend so quiet, so meek, not eating. Fuck his heart aches seeing you like this. He crawls into bed softly asking what’s wrong but you don’t have an answer. You don’t know what’s wrong but this black cloud looms over you like your own personal rain cloud.

Eddie makes the ache better, he takes some of the pressure of your chest especially when he pulls you into his arms. His nose in your hair breathing in your shampoo, pale arms holding you tight as he rubs your back. He brushes a loose strand of hair behind your ear whispering “you’re so beautiful.”

You can’t help the way you automatically mewl under his big brown eyes, hiding in his neck like a safe haven. He holds you tighter against him, nuzzling into your hair again.

“Don’t hide from me,” he murmurs softly, breath warm against your ear. “I want to see those gorgeous eyes of yours.”

You reluctantly relent, cheeks pink as you slowly look up at your boyfriend. There’s a certain vulnerability in your eyes. He gives you a small smile stroking your cheek with his thumb as he grabs your face.

“It’s okay,” he says softly. “You don’t have to be strong all the time, y’know? I’m here for you no matter what sweetheart.”

“You make me shy when you say stuff like that” you whisper, not trusting you full voice and afraid to break the quietness between you two.

He chuckles softly, the reverberation dancing into your chest straight to your heart. “Then I’ll just have to keep saying it then,” he replies teasingly.

His hands trace gentle patterns on your back, it’s soothing but electric at the same time. Like lightning striking the sea. He leans in close to you, nose ghosting over the bridge of yours as he whispers, “I love you so much, princess.”

“I love you too” you manage to murmur back. It’s like you’re stuck in a trance. Your eyes flicker to his lips and back to his eyes as he closes the gap. Your lips move against each other in a dance full of love and understanding. Tongues gliding against each other as Eddie strokes your cheek.

“You’re so pretty” you whisper as you pull away from his lips. His cheeks flushed, lips half swollen, big brown eyes boring into yours.

He grins preening at the compliment squeezing you just a little tighter. “So are you, baby” he replies. His thumb stroking your cheek tenderly “you take my breath away,” he whispers pressing a soft peck to your lips. You hum softly, feeling the blues cling to your skin like rainwater but Eddie makes everything better.

He notices the faint hint of sadness still swirling in your eyes despite you trying to hide it, his lips curve into a frown. “Are you sure you’re okay, baby?” He asked gently moving to stroke your hair tenderly. “You don’t have to pretend for me, y’know. I’m here for you, whatever you need”

“I just want to be here in your arms” you whisper

He nods understandingly, pulling you closer against his chest as he holds you tight. He plants a series of soft kisses along your temple and down your cheekbone, his lips lingering on your skin as he tries to convey his love and support through his touch.

"I'm right here," he whispers softly, his words echoing the sentiment of his actions. "You're safe with me, always."

You sniffle, small tears droplets falling into his tattooed skin as you nuzzle into his neck. He wipes away your tears gently with his thumbs, his heart aching at the sight of your distress. "Shh, it's okay," he soothes, rocking you back and forth slightly as he holds you close. "Just let it out, princess. I'm here for you."

“I don’t want to be sad anymore” you whisper, your voice broken. You sound so defeated, you feel like a burden on Eddie.

He kisses your forehead tenderly, his own heart heavy with sympathy for your pain. "I know, baby," he murmurs softly. "And we'll get through this together, okay? You're not alone in this."

He continues to hold you close, offering what comfort he can through his presence and touch. After a few moments, he speaks again, his voice gentle and reassuring.

"Why don't we watch that movie you wanted to see earlier?" he suggests. "Maybe it'll help take your mind off things for a while." You nod but make no effort to move out of his arms. You want nothing but your boyfriend’s warmth and affection.You lay on his chest, legs tangled with his. It’s like he naturally radiates this sense of comfort as he puts on whatever random movie he found.

He feels your body relax in his as you sink further into his embrace. His heartbeat pounding underneath your ear providing a sort of lullaby, lulling you into a peaceful state. He plays with your hair aimlessly just wanting to remind you that he’s right there with you.

“I wish I could sink into you” you whisper unsure if that sounds creepy or not. He smiles down at you, his expression full of love and tenderness. "Me too, baby," he whispers softly, planting a gentle kiss on top of your head. "I never want to let you go."

You trace patterns onto his chest as Eddie pulls the duvet over the two of you knowing how cold you get. The two of you sit like this for a long while until you finally whisper “you make everything better.” You shift your face so you can look at him wanting him to know just how much you appreciate him, that you don’t take him for granted.

He meets your gaze, his own eyes filled with love and something else. "I hope so," he replies softly, brushing a stray lock of hair away from your face tenderly. "Because you mean everything to me, princess."

You lay your head on his chest, your eyelashes fluttering against his T-shirt with every blink. “Baby” you whisper.

“What’s wrong?” He asks softly

“I… I wanna feel connected to you” you whisper, cheeks flushing pink.

He feels a wave of tenderness wash over him at your admission, and he leans down to place a gentle kiss on your head. "We already are, princess," he murmurs softly, his voice thick with emotion. "But if you need something more...well, I'm yours for the taking,” he says with a grin on his lips.

“Please” you whisper.

“S’all I want” you murmur pressing a kiss to the underneath of his jaw. His fingers find your face, thumb slotting under your jaw to bring your lips to his. Your lips move against each other as you shift to make the angle less awkward. Humming softly as the warmth of his kiss spreads through your chest.

His arms wrap around your back as he licks at the seam of your mouth. It’s been a while since the two of you had just made out. He presses his weight on his right side making sure to hold you close as he gently lays you on your back successfully flipping your position.

You pull back panting faintly, Eddie swirls around you. His touch, taste, scent, clouding your vision as he crowds you, the soft sounds of his labored breath singing in your ears as he leans down to press wet open mouthed kisses to your neck. You croon pressing your head into the pillow to bare your neck to his mouth. Your fingers brush through the soft curls on his head, mussing the tight ringlets.

“I love you baby” he whispers, husky voice and all like Smokey whiskey injecting straight into your veins.

“Love you too” you say breathlessly as your head spins in a flurry of tenderness.

His fingers trace over your clothes, “can I take these off sweetheart?” He whispers. His index and thumb pinched on the thin fabric of your pajama bottoms.

“Yes” you nod looking down at your boyfriend. His hair sticking in every direction, veined hands pulling down the soft fabric off your hips, big brown eyes drinking in every single detail of your face. You lift your hips as he drags down your pajamas almost agonizingly slow but you’re not in a rush, not even when the tips of his pinkies hook into your panties bringing them down too.

He’s careful when he removes your clothing off your feet, successfully throwing them into the hamper before looking down. His pupils dilating, pink tongue licking his lips like a man starved seeing his meal for the first time in a while. He lays on his stomach, big hands grabbing the backs of your thighs.

“This okay?” He murmur, eyes flicking up towards yours. He needs your permission, wants desperately to give into your whims and quell the sadness that hangs over you. Not that he can see much of it right now. Not when you’re looking at him through half lidded eyes as your chest rises subtly. You nod letting out a breath trying to calm your racing heart down.

He crawls closer pulling your legs open and groaning as you’re exposed to his hungry gaze. He dips his face forward like he’s smelling freshly cut daises, nose pressed to your pussy. Your fingers curl around the sheets with a sharp gasp, eyes fluttering closed until Eddie asks you to open them. You swallow hard in embarrassment, Eddie always liked maintaining eye contact during intimacy but you’re still left very raw and vulnerable.

“I’m right here baby” he whispers, fingers finding yours in the crumpled sheets, intertwining his much larger hand with yours. Your eyes flutter open at his tenderness, dark pupils finding your matching ones as he presses a kiss to your inner thigh. You squeeze his fingers back as a wordless ‘okay.’

His free hand glides through the fabric with a whooshing noise, thumb and index finger opening up your pussy to his gaze. This time he swallows hard, seeing your pussy wet and attentive for him. Your clit glistening in your arousal like a shiny pearl in an open clam.

He dips his face forward, the familiar feeling of his hair tickling your inner thighs already making your heart race but as soon as his tongue flatly traces up your slick entrance you swear you could die and go to heaven. You squeeze his hand tighter as you moan softly, a grin adorning Eddie’s face as soon as he hears it. He’s fucking elated that you’re letting him take care of you when you’ve been feeling this down.

The tip of his tongue swirls expertly around your clit teasingly, your eyebrows knitting together immediately. You sigh that is until, he applies more pressure to your clit. A small noise escapes your throat as you press your head into the pillow again.

“Taste so sweet, baby” his voice husky and low, cool like amber.

“So fucking perfect” he whispers as he lays his tongue flat against your clit, licking continuous stripes over it until he coaxed out those familiar whines from your lips. His tongue finds its way to your entrance, the tip of it working you open until he’s got his tongue inside the bumpy walls, nose brushing against your clit as he tongue fucks you making sure to go slow and gentle. He wants you to feel how much he fucking loves you.

It isn’t long until your thighs are trembling on either side of his head, more whimpers and moans mixed with broken curse words leave from deep in your lungs. They fill the gap, slowly inflating the ache in your chest until the cavity is smooth and your ribs are back in place. Of course you’re not healed for life but Eddie will be there to fill the gap.

You feel so loved, eyes burning with happy tears as your fingers squeeze his tighter. A final breathless moan leaves your parted lips as your back arches off the bed ever so slightly. It is not dramatic, there’s no screaming, no neighbors banging on the door for you to shut up. It’s your body trembling as your fingers tug on the bedsheets, it’s patient and kind and warm. It’s Eddie, it’s you, it’s your love. It’s everything you need.

[gi4hao]

the idiots you date — x. minghao

roommate!minghao x gn!reader

word count: 1k

genre: fluff but slightly angsty (mention of a past toxic relationship)

“you shouldn’t work for a company that doesn’t respect you”

“yeah, and you shouldn’t date guys who don’t deserve you, yet here we are.”

minghao’s face bears signs of exhaustion that you’ve learned to recognize months ago. signs which started to appear exactly when he took on this new “big corporate job” as you often call it, simply because you’re not quite sure to understand what it is.

you’ve finished your dinner an hour ago. you used to wait for him to come home, but that was when he wasn’t working overtime most days of the week.

“they needed me to finish some urgent reports, i didn’t really have a choice,” he tells you before you can even ask anything. his tone is like a permanent sigh, but you know it’s not directed towards you.

sat at the kitchen table, you remain silent, fiddling with the rings he took off before washing his hands. the lights are dimmed, making the dark circles under his eyes slightly more prominent.

“how was your date?” he asks as he takes his plate out of the microwave, probably wanting to change the subject. but you doubt he’s still interested in your date anecdotes, especially since this one was your third of the week.

although he comes to sit right next to you, you carefully avoid his eyes when you reply:

“okay, i guess? the guy was nice but had terrible takes on most topics we talked about. well, ‘we’ is kind of a stretch because i was doing most of the talking. i think he was just here to eat good food and make me pay for most of it.”

“so… not okay, then”, minghao corrects you, and the silence that follows speaks louder than any word would have.

you’ve been single for almost a year now, and your last relationship was not exactly a model of good and healthy communication.

living alone after the breakup was a depressing prospect, and minghao was in need of a roommate to avoid letting his job drive him insane: a perfect match for two long-time friends like you two.

there was always a certain closeness between you, but living together has made it more intimate, and consequently harder to ignore... which is why you decided to ask for the help of various dating apps in hope to get minghao out of your head.

“yeah, not okay…” you sigh, mindlessly sliding one of his rings on your finger.

your gaze lands on the painting hung next to the fridge. one of minghao’s, which you insisted should be put up in your apartment; swirls of paint meeting in rosebuds and milky tulips. you can still see where the paint was spread across the canvas by his fingers.

with a tinge of sadness, you realize minghao hasn’t drawn anything in months. his paint-covered clothes were all replaced by dull suits that make him look like the people he used to feel sorry for.

“what time do you start tomorrow?” you ask, pouring him another glass of water.

his lips press into a thin line; you’re not sure whether he’s holding back a sigh of annoyance or just mentally preparing for an answer you’re not going to like.

“7. there’s a meeting i need to prepare for.”

“and when you get to the office at 7, are other employees there? or just you?”

“don’t start,” he rolls his eyes, grabbing his plate to go put it in the dishwasher. “we’ve already discussed this, it’s a dead-end.”

he’s right, this conversation has never ended well. but your eyes keep coming back to that painting, to everything he’s slowly turning his back to. the sadness ebbs away, giving way to a rising anger:

“no, i will start actually,” you state, walking up to him. “you’re unhappy, hao. you shouldn’t work for a company that doesn’t respect you.”

“yeah, and you shouldn’t date guys who don’t deserve you, yet here we are,” he replies, slamming the dishwasher shut. but his voice sounded more cutting than intended: “i’m sorry, i shouldn’t have said that.”

there are a thousand words on your lips right now, but few of them would be reasonable to say out loud. meanwhile, minghao is looking at you like you’re a ticking time bomb.

“but you said it. so now i expect you to either hit me with a miracle solution or kiss me.”

you said it without really thinking, basically shrugging as you know he will never take you seriously. the best outcome would be for him to never speak about your love life ever again.

but his reply makes you instantly freeze: “what if i did both?”

a rush of warmth spreads from the pit of your stomach, radiating through your entire body as his hand comes to meet your cheek, silently asking for confirmation that this is something you want.

your lips crash against his before he can even start to lean in, and the feeling of his skin so close to yours feels so unreal you expect him to push you away any second.

but instead, he matches your eagerness to the point where you’re scared you might lose your balance.

“i hope you like that solution,” he breathes out, leaving one last kiss on your nose.

in that fleeting moment, you reunite with the old minghao, the lively one who makes his own decisions and owns up to his actions. the one you fell in love with years ago.

“absolutely”, you chuckle, your hands meeting behind his neck. “…so i guess i can tell that guy we won’t go on a second date.”

“you better,” he earnestly tells you as he starts to take his black blazer off. “working from 7 to 9 will never be as painful as watching another idiot take you on a date. from now on, i’ll take care of it.”

-> rbs and feedback are always appreciated!

masterlist here!

[redvexillum]

I feel like the way I portray Alastor is all in the spectrum of Yandare. So, I tried my best to write...yandare Alastor in a way it makes sense for my head canon of him. I want to give a quick shout out to my friend @peach-flavored-flambe ! I thought the best way to welcome her is dedicating this unhinged Alastor story to her!

TAGS/WARNINGS: f!reader, dead dove: do not eat, dub con, obsessive!alastor, p in v, gentle sex, gaslighting, entrapment, breeding kink, psychological, dark, mental torment, unhealthy relationship, orgasm denial, power dynamic, unhinged!alastor, reader is not okay, implied cannibalism, suicidal thoughts, depression, reader is delulu, alastor is delulu, extreme co-dependency, extreme denial, yandare!alastor

🙏 please mind your mental health before you read 🙏

The thought curled through you like poison, clinging to every corner of your mind: you wanted to die.  

It was a siren song, cruel and haunting, a whisper that slithered deep into the crumbling fortress of your mind, eroding the defences you’d built to keep it out. Your hands shook as exhaustion seeped into every crack; bones weary from a battle that felt endless. It wasn’t just tiredness – it was a soul-deep weight, a leaden heaviness that hollowed you out.  

In the background, soft jazz played from the kitchen, each note swirling with a warmth that felt so alien in the cold void within you. Sunlight poured through the window, a golden river that washed over everything it touched, indifferent to the shadows lurking within.  

You noticed the knife on the counter – a sharp gleam that seemed to pulse with a dangerous allure, its polished blade catching the light with a slick, almost wet shine. It seemed to call out to you, offering a quick, dreamless eternity.  

But even as your gaze lingered, your heart resisted, tethered stubbornly to someone who’d become both your prison and sanctuary. 

Alastor.  

A man you never should have crossed paths with. A man you should never have fallen for.  

You sighed, holding the knife as you turned back to the chunk of meat. Its once bright crimson flesh changing to a dull, dead brown. The raw smell was overwhelming, thick and nearly spoiled in the oppressive Louisiana heat. Alastor left you with some tasks today, after you had begged him to give you something to do as you wait for his return. Your task was to package the meat, clean up the kitchen, polish the floor while you waited for his return.  

The smell of raw meat brought images to flicker through your mind: men and women, faces frozen in terror as Alastor dragged them down to the cellar. A shiver ran down your spine, and a small whimper escaped, a whisper of fear against the tears that threatened to fall. You tore your gaze away from the knife and forced yourself to look outside. The bayou stretched out beyond the window, a bleak expanse of gnarly trees and dark water – silent, desolate, and as inescapable as him.  

You took a steadying breath, mentally reciting the day’s tasks like a prayer to keep you grounded. Finish the meat, scrub the blood stains, bleach the floor, and when the last crimson smear was gone, he’d return. By then, you’d be ready, composed. With a sniff, you shoved your feelings back, burying them under the monotony of chores.  

Finally, when every trace of red erased from the floor, you heard the front door click open. The sound echoed, a rhythmic click-click-click, each lock sliding free, the metal grating sharply against the silence. Your heart skipped as the door creaked, and there he stood – Alastor, haloed in the setting sun. His smile was gentle, but his eyes gleamed as he opened his arms.  

“My love,” he murmured, setting down his bag and slipping off his coat with an air of practised ease.  

You scrambled to your feet, the memory still fresh from the last time you hadn’t been there to greet him. He had panicked, refusing to leave your side for days. He held you then, whispering sweet words of devotion, his arms an unyielding cage, each word sinking deeper until it was all you knew. You didn’t know if he knew the truth – that every word bound you closer even as you longed to escape.  

Fear wrapped around you, yet somewhere deep within, in a place even you struggled to reach, you needed him. The years of isolation had stripped you bare, leaving only the two of you locked in this strange dance.  

Five years – five years of him as your only constant, your only company in this void. That had to be love. It was the only way to make sense of why you stayed, why you remained bound to him by something more powerful than chains.  

It had to be love.  

“Alastor,” you whispered, your voice barely audible, legs shaking from hours of kneeling on the hard floor, scrubbing away every crimson stain. You took a step forward, the chilling clink of metal grazing the wood beneath your feet with each uneven, hesitant step. The floorboards seemed to pulse below you, each creak an echo of your own heartbeat, until finally, you stopped, frozen four steps away from the exit.  

He chuckled – a warm, resonant sound that should have been comforting but only heightened the chill trickling down your spine. With graceful steps, Alastor closed the distance between you, his arms circling around your shoulders. His chin rested gently against your head, the weight of him grounding you in place, his presence washing over you like a tide you couldn’t escape.  

“I missed you,” you mumbled against his chest, nuzzling into his embrace. The heat of him, the solid reassurance of his touch, brought you back to yourself, to the one undeniable truth of your existence: you were here, alive, because he held you tethered. “Did you have a good day at work, my love?” you murmured, soft and tentative.  

His hand slid over the back of your head; fingers gentle as he stroked you. He breathed in deeply, a wistful sigh slipping from his lips. “My love, you never left my thoughts for a single moment.” His voice was soft, warm, and his arms tightened around you, so tightly that for a second, you felt as though the air was slipping away.  

Finally, he parted, just enough for you to breathe again, his fingers grazing along the warm curve of your cheek. “Let’s get you out of that, hmm?” His voice was gentle, and his whisky-brown eyes glittered with a kindness that made your chest ache.  

A swell of relief surged in you, and you threw your arms around his shoulders. “Thank you, Alastor, thank you!” Laughter bubbled out of you, bright and involuntary, stretching your lips into a smile that felt foreign, almost unbelievable after everything.  

He lifted you effortlessly, his strength both exhilarating and terrifying as he carried you toward the couch. Each step sent the faintest clinking of metal into the air, a reminder of the bond that held you captive.  

As he set you down and took a step back, you could feel his gaze moving over you, slow and deliberate, like he could peel back each layer with a single look. You flushed under his scrutiny, your shoulders curling inward, a strange blend of shame and need warring within you. Despite your clothes, under his gaze you felt exposed, vulnerable, as if he could read every thought you’d ever dared to keep from him.  

“Cher,” he murmured, his hand drifting over the outside of your calf, fingers tracing a path until they reached your ankle.  

You heard the fabric rustling, and then – there it was, glinting between his fingers: a silver key. Your eyes focused on the key, and your heart skipped, hope blooming like wildflowers in a barren field. The promise of freedom lay in that tiny object, so close and yet, a lifetime away. You watched, hardly daring to breathe, as he took your ankle in his hand, his thumb brushing lightly over your bare foot. It was a reminder of the first time he’d ordered you to go without socks when you first escaped from this manacle.  

He slid the key into the lock, and with a single twist, the manacle opened with the same familiar click that marked his return home every day. The cool metal fell away, clattering weakly to the floor. A rush of air hit the skin beneath, and you winced as blood surged back into your ankle, a dull ache flooding back into limbs so long constrained.  

The shackles lay there, lifeless on the floor, the physical proof of your captivity now nothing more than a scrap of metal, stripped of its power. And yet, as you looked up at him, his eyes shining with something both possessive and achingly tender, you realized you could never truly cast off the chains that bound you to him.  

Not as long as you believe you loved him.  

“Oh, my poor cher,” Alastor murmured, his voice thick with a twisted blend of regret and possessive tenderness as his eyes traced the dark bruises wrapping around your ankle. His lips brushed softly over the tender skin, lingering in a gentle, reverent kiss before his forehead rested against your leg.  

With his eyes closed, he sighed, pressing warmth into you. “It pains me,” he whispered, “to see even the slightest mark of discomfort on you.” His lips began a slow journey, grazing from your ankle upward along the sensitive skin of your inner calf, each kiss stealing a shiver from you. “But you understand, don’t you, cher? It’s a necessity.” 

He lifted his eyes to meet yours, their intense gaze sending a shudder through you. His position – kneeling between your legs – made it impossible to think straight. Despite being in a servile pose, he was still the master of your heart.  

“Yes...I understand,” you managed, your voice raspy and barely audible. His lips continued their climb, each kiss leaving a cool, tingling path against your skin. “But I’ve been good, Alastor.” Your breath hitched as his head came to rest in your lap, his fingers tracing languid circles along your thigh.  

He chuckled softly, low and indulgent. “You have been,” he murmured, his warm breath fanning across your skin. “Perhaps if you continue to behave...I might let you roam freely around the house when I’m not here.” He looked up, giving you a small, playful smile that made your heart stutter.  

The thought of moving freely, without the heavy, omnipresent clink of the chain dragging behind you, sent a thrill through your veins. You clenched your hands into fists, desperate to keep your excitement contained.  

“I can be good,” you whispered, fingers drifting to his hair, threading through the soft strands as you stroked his head. “I can be good for you, Alastor...” 

A groan escaped him, his eyes falling shut as he leaned into your touch, savouring the sensation like a man starving. Emboldened, you took a breath, letting words slip out �� words you’d held back for so long, daring to hope he might grant them.  

“Maybe...” you hesitated, voice barely a murmur. “Maybe sometimes in the distant future, I could go into t-town with you?” Your fingers froze in his hair as his body tensed, muscles stiffening under your touch. You held your breath, dread and hope tangling within you, afraid you’d crossed some unseen line. Alastor’s overprotective streak was ironclad – whenever he sensed a threat, real or imagined, his vigilance would lock you down even more tightly than before.  

A heartbeat passed before he spoke. “Perhaps...” He rose to his feet slowly, drawing you up with him, a gentle smile curving his lips. “Perhaps one day, cher.” His hands slid under your legs, lifting you from the couch, his grip firm and desirous. “But for now...” he trailed off, leaving the sentence open, thick with suggestion as he carried you up the stairs.  

The scent of him, rich and intoxicating, filled your senses, mingling with the sharp, metallic undertone of old blood. Recently, he had brought up the idea of family, his eyes lighting with a dark kind of joy when he saw your loneliness. The house felt hollow most days, empty but for him, and he’d suggested a child - a little soul to fill the silent rooms.  

At first, the notion had left you reeling, uncertain, but the longer you were left alone with only your thoughts, the more the idea began to take root. Its appeal started to bloom uncontrollably like weeds in your mind.  

Now, Alastor and you spent every waking moment together in his bed, until your wishes took fruit.  

He lowered you onto the bed with an almost reverent tenderness, as though each touch was sacred, each look a silent promise. He shed his clothes slowly, his eyes never leaving you as his skin emerged, bare and raw. By the time he climbed onto bed, leaning over you, his desire was unmistakable – his cock hardening just from watching you laid out beneath him.  

He hovered for a moment, his face close to yours, and his gaze softened as his hand brushed along your cheek. “Cher,” he murmured, a plea woven into his tone, his voice low and thick. His fingers traced down the side of your face as though memorizing you by touch alone. “Will you let me...feel you tonight?” He pressed a kiss to your cheek, slow and lingering, each word like a promise. “For the rest of the night?” His hips lowered, pressing himself against your thigh, his warmth branding you.  

Heat flared through you, your body’s response instant and shameless. Every part of you remembered him – his hands, his mouth, the way he claimed you until the world slipped away. Your body answered before your mind could, a warmth pooling low in your stomach as he lifted the hem of your dress, slowly baring your skin. You sat up, letting the fabric fall away, and his eyes flickered, his gaze dropping to your bare breasts. Your only cover now a thin piece of cloth hiding the most intimate part of you.  

Alastor’s grin widened, his gaze roving from the pebbled peaks of your nipples down to the damp fabric between your thighs. His hands traced down, catching the waistband and tugging it free. His touch lingered over each inch of exposed skin as he pulled it over your thighs, past the bruises on your ankle, until you lay just as bare before him.  

Your legs fell open, your slick folds glistening in invitation, your body traitorous in its eagerness. Alastor’s eyes darkened, his fingers tightening around his cock as he gripped himself, slow strokes stoking his own arousal as he stared, captivated by your wetness. 

“The thought of you carrying my child, cher...it drives me mad.” His voice was a rough whisper, his breaths shallow as he stroked himself harder, faster, his eyes on your throbbing core. “It drives me to the edge,” he murmured, his grin feral as he leaned closer, his gaze smouldering with dark intent. “Drives me to the point of bloodlust,” his adam’s apple bobbed up then down, his grin trembling as it couldn’t stretch further lest it tore through his cheeks.  

You swallowed, your pulse quickening at the edge of his words, at the memory of the shadows he kept hidden – the bloodstained cellar, the bodies you helped him to clean. Whether you were here or not, you knew he would continue to kill, as relentless and ruthless as ever.  

"Ah, cher,” he sighed, settling his body over yours, his hard length pressing flush against your entrance, teasing you with his warmth. “Cher, cher, cher,” he murmured, his voice a low chuckle as he brushed his fingers through your hair, wrapping it around his fingers. “Why do you have to be so lovely?” His nose skimmed your hairline, nuzzling his way to your temple, where he pressed a slow, heated kiss. “Why do you tempt me like this?” 

“You’re all I think about, dream about,” he murmured, his voice honey-sweet as he pressed his mouth against your skin, each word a whisper trailing down your cheek, your neck, and finally, open-mouthed and lingering on the curve of your breast. “So much so, cher, that I sometimes imagine killing you.” His tone was soft, unsettlingly jovial as though he’d confessed a secret desire, his hands tracing delicate patterns over your skin.  

Your heart pounded, memories flashing across your mind like dark, haunted snapshots – the cellar door muffling desperate cries, the hollow silence that followed. The scent of blood hung thick in those memories, the darkness swallowing up the faces that haunted you. Your hands trembled, a pulse of fear mingling with something deeper, something you could barely acknowledge.  

“But I won’t,” he murmured against your skin, pulling you from the spiral of those memories. He lifted his hand to catch a tear that had slipped from your eye, his thumb brushing it away softly. He gazed at the glistening drop before licking it from his fingertip, his eyes darkened as he held you captive in his gaze. “I would never hurt you, cher. Have I ever hurt you?” His voice was quiet, coaxing yet intense, his question leaving no room for escape.  

His eyes burned into yours, searching, unwavering. “Tell me, cher,” he pressed, his voice as smooth as silk but laced with a demand that made your pulse stutter. “Do you see me as a bad man?”  

There were moments when Alastor felt so delicate, so gentle that he might as well have been made of glass, every touch featherlight. But there were others, moments like this, when he shifted – his possessive grip, his words, his gaze – all dark and consuming. When he asked these questions, you felt like a bird trapped in his cage, heart fluttering as you tried to find the right words.  

Your lips quivered, unable to form a reply, the silence thick as more tears slipped down your cheeks. Alastor’s gaze softened just slightly, and he gathered you close, arms wrapping around you as he rocked you, as if you were a fragile, precious thing in his hold. “Shh,” he whispered, his lips against your hair, “I love you, cher. I love you, I love you,” he repeated, his voice lilting like a lullaby.  

Your mind fractured, the edge of your memories sharp, each fragment glinting in the dark recesses of your mind. You reached out within yourself, searching, groping for the piece of you that had loved him first – the man you’d met one hazy night at the speakeasy, the man who seemed to light up the room just by existing.  

Slowly, you let your hands drift to his back, your fingers pressing against the warmth of his skin. Your eyes closed, more tears slipping free as you tried to remember the feeling of joy, of laughter that you’d felt with him. Your lips brushed against his shoulder, a tentative sign of trust as he sighed, his body relaxing under your touch.  

You dug deeper, sifting through memories of that laughter, of your first dance, your first kiss – all those quiet, gentle confessions that had once coloured his eyes in soft brows. You found yourself on your knees, clutching at those fragments with desperate hands, determined to recall the moments when his touch had felt safe, cherished.  

“Shh,” Alastor’s mouth hovered over yours, his lips ghosting against yours, a barely there whisper of warmth. “It’s alright, cher. I have you.” He guided himself against you, pressing gently, his cock slipping slowly into your wet, pulsing heat. His mouth melded to yours as his tongue traced along the seam of your lips, savouring each taste as his low moans mingled with your soft gasps.  

A hum escaped him, rich and satisfied, as he sank into you, his body pressed to yours, filling you with a quiet intensity that left you breathless. The salted trails on your cheeks lingered as your lips curved into a slow smile, your legs parting, welcoming him deeper, your heart opening despite everything, the echoes of his whispers filling the night.  

“Good girl,” Alastor groaned, his hips pushing forward, stretching you around the hard, unyielding thickness of him. “Oh, cher, you’re perfect for me,” he murmured, his words a deep, reverent moan as he sank in deeper, inch by inch, until he was completely enveloped. His hands settled possessively on your hip, his eyes devouring the sight of you.  

“I’m going to fill you with my seed all night, love,” he purred, rolling his hips with a languid, maddening rhythm. “After all, your body is begging me to take you – wouldn't you say?” His voice rose with playful amusement, the bed creaking beneath you as if echoing his delight.  

“Yes,” you gasped, breathless, the sensation of him making you tremble. “Please,” you whispered, your nails pressing into his shoulders, urging him closer. Alastor drew his hips back slowly, agonizingly, until only the tip of him remained, only to push back in, the pace deliberate, every inch of him dragging against you with intent. Each movement seemed to ignite a new flame within you, stretching your pleasure, drawing it out until it was almost unbearable.  

“Look how good you are for me,” he whispered against your flushed cheek, his lips tracing his words into your skin. “Look how perfect you are,” he breathed, sinking deeper as he tightened his arms around you, locking you into his rhythm. “No one will understand you the way I do. You were destined to be mine.” His voice was rich, warm, but tinged with darkness that was both thrilling and terrifying.  

“Al-Alastor,” you whimpered, each thrust stoking the tension building inside, reaching deeper, pulling you into a spiral of desire and delirium. His moans, his heated words, his relentless pace – all of it washed over you like a fevered dream. Each breath, each sigh and whispered praise tangled together in a symphony of need.  

The creaking of the bed became louder, and with a sudden surge, he lifted himself, teeth gritted, and drove into you harder. His hips snapped against yours; his pace relentless.  

“Cher...cher...” he growled, beads of sweat glistening on his brow as he focused on you, his gaze hungry. “That’s right, cher,” he chuckled breathlessly, each laugh broken by the sound of his hips smacking against your own. “Oh, you’d make a perfect mother,” he panted, his words nearly incoherent as he picked up his pace. The final thrust left you both gasping, his grip on you tightening as he finally reached his own release, filling you with powerful, pulsing bursts of warmth.  

You moaned in frustration, your pleasure still simmering, unsatisfied, leaving your skin taut with need. You tried to move, but Alastor held you firmly, pressing himself deep inside, his body still wrapped around yours.  

He brushed a stray lock of hair from your face as he slowly softened within you, the warm rush of his seed starting to trickle down. When he finally withdrew, his fingers slipped to your entrance, pressing lightly to try and keep every last drop inside, as if marking you as his.  

Lying on his side beside you, he gazed at you, his expression gentle as he took in your flushed, tear-streaked cheeks, still needy with unfulfilled desire. A smile tugged at his lips when you also turned to your side to face him. His eyes drifted down, and you knew he was watching his own essence escape, sluggishly slipping down and pooling on your inner thighs. He leaned in to press a soft kiss to your shoulder.  

“Don’t worry, cher,” he said quietly, his voice low and calming. “I’ll take care of you, again and again, tonight.” He withdrew his fingers, now slicked with his and your arousal. “Until your body takes my seed, we’ll keep trying,” he promised, his gaze flickering down between you both before meeting yours with a playful, boyish grin.  

With a breath that finally began to steady, you raised a hand to his face, touching his cheek tenderly. He turned to press a gentle kiss to your palm, a quiet moment of warmth shared in the aftermath.  

In moments like these, in the field of fractured memories, you saw one shard glinting brighter than the rest, pulling you toward it. It was a piece of you – something essential, something more truthful and dangerous than anything else. It shimmered with dark clarity, cutting through the shadows of doubt and lingering despair. 

You drifted past the memories that still haunted you, not quite registering the images that flooded your mind. Alastor’s eyes, once warm, turning nearly black with fury the night you tried to leave, his grip like iron as he vowed you’d belong to him. You passed by the moment he chained you to the cellar walls, his victims mere echoes in the darkness, his voice soothingly venomous, telling you that no one else could ever understand you as he did.  

Each scar those memories left on your soul was still fresh, a raw edge in the depths of your mind, fragments of yourself that would never heal.  

But in this one shard – this singular piece of undeniable truth – you saw something more. It was in these quiet, raw moments after he’d loved you, held you close, his breath mingling with yours. It was here, next to him in the aftermath, that you could almost believe he was the only soul in this world who would ever love you with such consuming fervour.  

You dragged your body closer to him, feeling the warmth of his body against yours, as his arms immediately circled protectively around you. His eyes softened as you leaned closer, drawing him into a gentle kiss. Your lips grazing his in a tender, slow exchange that felt achingly real. His fingers traced up and down your back, as if branding his name on your skin.  

In this quiet, lonely world, he was your guiding light, a burning soul who consumed all but left you somehow whole. You wanted to hold on to him, to keep him by your side. You feared whatever darkness lurked beyond Alastor, the fear of the unknown paled in comparison to the thought of leaving the one person who had vowed to love every fractured, scarred piece of you.  

He needed you, just as much as you needed him.  

Follow #vexitober 2024 to read my questionable kink/fluff stories!

[queenie-the-court-jester]

HII, saw your post on wanting asks, well here 🫶 I love talking so, and specifically on playboy yandere!! I'm a sucker for angst and yanderes falling into insanity honestly, so let me ramble a bit

- imagine if reader graduates highschool and gets an overseas scholarships!! They also convince their family to move together with them so Kameron can't hurt or use them to blackmail reader. So with only a break up text saying like "bye manwhore 😍😍", blocking and deleting all their social media, I wonder how long and how far would he take to get reader back again? Would he inherit his parent's riches, hire some private investigatiors to find reader and find the country they're living in, expand his business over to their country in order to gain power to trap his darling. And I wonder how deranged his reaction would be to reader's text and be like no way, they're joking right, and runs to their house and whatever usual spots they're at normally, and just break down into insanity. would he try to use substitutes for reader to maintain his sanity or go fully devoid of emotions and start working hard to gain power and influence to find reader again!! I'm also curious how he would process his darling leaving him, would he become delusional first, saying they got kidnapped or something, or some ex or fling of his hurt reader, and then proceed to anger, depression, grief and then finally accept the reality!!

Ok that's a lot of rambling 😭😭 hope it's okay. I rlly enjoyed that fic, was rent FREE in my mind for a whole day

you know luci, you just gave me an idea. So have a part TWO of THIS DUMBASS HOE 🤝

Yandere playboy x reader

Tw: mentions of murder, kameron being delulu, yandere and obsessive behavior

💋kameron was having another breakdown. Sobbing pathetically on the floor of your old bedroom. Just how did you run away? And on such short notice too!? Didn't his love mean anything to you!? WHY DID YOU ABANDON HIM?

💋a million thoughts swirled through his head, until he finally got one that just... stuck. He had to get you back. No matter how long it takes. Getting up and dusting himself off, he kicked the front door open and quickly left the empty house

💋it was a shame really. The once sane and popular boy was struggling to keep his image. So he got help. Not professional as in therapists and medication. Just hiring other students to cover for him Incase he slipped up. all while snooping through the head teachers computer to see if they had any notes on where you might have gone. He almost got caught a few times

"shit that was close.. i can't believe these idiots leave their passwords just anywhere"

💋he knew he shouldn't be back at the school, especially since he graduated but he needs all the information he can get. Eventually moving onto private investigators and online stalking through multiple other accounts. He'd try anything just to see what his darling was doing without him. Were you enjoying making him suffer? You're so cruel..

💋hiring other people to befriend you and lower your guard, gathering any Information they can

💋 kameron who spent a while convincing his parents to let him take hold of the company. He had a degree, a bright mind, responsibility. He's perfect for the job! Oh if only they knew where his 60% was going.. funding multiple businesses across the world in exchange for keeping a careful eye. Making him quite the celebrity

💋look darling! He's on the news-! ...oh right you're not here.. one evening, while working in his office, a new secretary comes in to introduce themselves. They look just like you! He could only stare in shock.

"my love..? Is that you!?"

"..who?"

💋turns out it was just a doppelganger. But with enough time he'd delude himself into thinking it was you. Courting them with the same flowers, chocolates and jewelry he'd given you. It worked like a charm! Now you were back In their arms again. They felt whole..

💋he married your lookalike a year later, the poor fool being too naive and oblivious to think. He was happy for awhile.. or until one of his P.I's came in to show him they found you. His reality started to break.

💋no.. how could he do this to you. Replacing you with some cheap street whore. That night, when they went to bed, he gave them a cup of water and smiled sweetly. Watching as their face went red and they started to cough for air after gulping it down. Clawing at the sheets and staring at him with wide fearful eyes. Begging him to help them

"...slut."

💋 burrying the body in his backyard, he paid people with underground connections to cover for him while he was away. Claiming they suddenly vanished, having run away with a small fortune. How idiotic are people, to actually believe him..

💋kameron disguised himself and went straight for the country you decided to flee too. 5 years apart from you.. he had no idea how he managed to live so long without his beloved, but it was all worth it. Because now you'll be back where you belong. In his arms.

💋you were busy working at your job, running a small business was no joke but atleast the people in the area were friendly. So you didn't notice the suited figure Infront of your cash register

"thank you, please come again-"

💋you froze, looking up at the terrifyingly familiar face. He stared back at you with only glee and love

"hello my darling~ you've been on a naughty streak for a while Haven't you? That's okay, I'll just set you straight when we go back home."

💋big burly men all blocked you from escaping by guarding the doors. Dragging all the other customers out so you both could have your moment. Now you could never leaver leave him. Ever.

[padfootagain]

Grey Days

Hi everyone! Here is a little Hozier oneshot for today! It’s a little sad, but mostly hurt/comfort. Did I write it after crying when I watched that interview he did where he spoke about his struggle with mental health? Yes. Obviously. I want to give him so many hugs…

I hope you like it! Tell me what you think!

****

Pairing: Hozier x fem!reader

Warnings: hurt/comfort, angst, mentions of depression

Summary : Andrew is used to feel low sometimes, he has been plagued by those periods for as long as he can remember. But if he usually solves his sadness by being alone, this time, the antidote to his pain might be you.

Word Count : 2671

Hozier’s Masterlist – Main Masterlist

There were days like this, where everything was grey for no reason.

The sky rolling with clouds, heavy with rain, threatening with thunder, for sure wasn’t helping. But Andrew couldn’t pretend that it was at fault. Nor was the season, spring was on the horizon after all. There were boughs staining the branches, the first flowers blooming, the air a little warmer, the wind calmer than the winter storm. The birds had been chirping all morning, even if they had quietened now, under the menace of rain. He should be happy. The sun was high this morning, he had gotten some work done at Alex’s, he had had a nice lunch with his parents. Nothing but positive things, in theory.

And yet Andrew could feel his skin crawling, the tears that threatened to rise and spill, the numbness that came with spleen. Christ, melancholy was such a bitch, sometimes.

It was a bad day, the voices in his head were louder than usual. Despite the distractions he couldn’t keep them down. He kept on thinking about the pieces of songs he had recorded this morning with Alex, and on the spot they sounded good. Now, all he had left was doubt. For sure, none of it was good enough, and his lyrics were all over the place, and they didn’t do the subject justice… the didn’t do you justice…

He felt the burn in his eyes and the tightening in his throat again, his breathing grew more laboured, so he took a deep breath. He was driving, now was not the time…

And yet the thoughts were still there. As he entered his tiny town, the swirling of voices kept shouting.

Not good enough…

Don’t know how to write a proper song…

Got lucky with one song, will never be good enough again…

Imposter…

He entered his driveway, parked the car there. He didn’t notice your car until he was turning his head towards the front door.

Fuck…

He wasn’t in the mood for socialising, for pretending that everything was alright, for playing perfect boyfriend…

Another person you’ll end up disappointing…

Another thing in your life you don’t deserve…

He closed his eyes for a moment, tried to shush the voices. Just voices. It was just his busy head being louder than usual.

He just needed to calm down…

Damn, he should have called to cancel for tonight. You had a date night planned, you had told him you would come to his place early to start preparing dinner. You weren’t living together but he had a change of keys to your place, and you had one to his. He didn’t need to be home for you to come in.

Yesterday, Andrew was thinking about asking you to move in with him, to make a common home out of his large house.

She’d never say yes to you anyway…

He clenched his jaw, until his teeth gritted.

Just voices. Just voices. He was okay, he was fine…

It was just dinner, and it would be lovely. He loved you, he would have a great time…

He blinked his eyes open, brushed the wetness from his eyelashes.

Put on a brave face for her, come on…

He released some of the tension across his jaw, finally let go of the steering wheel. The soreness in his fingers made him realise how tightly he had been holding it.

He had no strength left in his body to open the car door, but he did it anyway. He was kind of used to it, the falls that followed the heights. It hadn’t happened in a long time. So bad, out of nowhere? Probably a year. Yeah, not long after the two of you started dating. It was pretty smooth after that. There were days when he didn’t feel great, but he didn’t feel terrible. With no energy left in his frame, no positive thoughts on his mind, no faith in himself, and no social battery either. Usually, when he felt like this, he simply locked himself up for a couple of days. The solitude usually helped. And now, he needed to be left alone, or at least he thought so. Besides, he would be in a terrible mood all evening, you would properly get tired of the sight and his sharp tone very quickly. And he didn’t want to take it out on you, it wasn’t fair, and he wouldn’t. He wouldn’t. He was too tired to be angry anyway.

He unlocked the front door, was welcomed by the smell of spices. It should have made him smile, but instead, his heart clenched.

He took off his shoes and jacket, slowly, too slowly. Any other day he would have hurried to join you.

Tonight, all he wanted was to be alone, to not talk to anyone, to get out of his clothes that felt like a burden too heavy to carry, and get under the covers, and lie there for the rest of the night, and maybe throughout tomorrow too.

Instead, he walked to his kitchen, nervously rubbing at his palms. God, he bet he looked terrible. He didn’t have a hair tie, and his hair was frizzy with the humid air, and he felt so fucking ugly when he entered the room, knowing he looked like a mess in sweatpants and an old t-shirt when you looked stunning, the most beautiful woman he had ever seen…

You didn’t seem to notice, because when you saw him, you let out an excited gasp and hurried into his arms.

Why did the feeling of you in his embrace make him want to cry?

“Hi, baby! How was your day?”

He cradled the back of your head in his large hand, gently, as if you could break under his touch. He rested his lips on the top of your head, took a deep breath of your shampoo, the scent so familiar, so soothing, so reassuring…

He closed his eyes.

It lasted a couple of seconds, and then the voices were back.

One day she’ll see you can’t make her happy…

He pulled away.

“Good,” he answered elusively, forcing a smile, but he knew it was tight-lipped. “Busy.”

“Did you get some work done with Alex, then?���

“Hmm… loads.”

“Good! You must be tired then, you can sit down, I’m almost done!”

He looked at the meal you were making for the two of you. You had set up the table, had even lit up some candles. It was fucking nice, so damn romantic…

“Smells amazing,” he complimented, but you seemed to notice that there was no light left in his voice. “Gonna take a shower before joining you, okay?”

“Sure! But… you’re okay, honey?”

Honey… Honey…

“Yeah, just… tired. Long day. I won’t take long.”

You nodded, offering a smile and he did his best to give it back.

He thought the shower would help, but it didn’t. He almost let the floodgates open while the warm water numbed his muscles, made his body feel like it wasn’t there at all. He had even less strength as he walked out of the shower. But at least, now, he was wearing a shirt and black jeans, and he had tied his hair in a low bun, looking close to presentable. He was wearing his glasses, he didn’t have the energy to put some contacts on.

When he entered the kitchen again, you had poured some red wine, were humming to a tune he didn’t know, checking the cooking of your vegetables.

“Almost done! Perfect timing!” you announced with pride.

“Thank you for cooking tonight,” he let out in a breath.

He knew his shoulders were bent, he knew you had noticed the way he was trying to look as small as possible. He read it in your frown. He nervously rubbed at his collarbone, felt irritated now.

She’s doing all this for you, you can’t get mad for nothing. It’s not her fault, calm down.

He sat down, as you invited him to do so. You brought food a couple of minutes later, and he asked you about your day. But unlike any other day, it wasn’t out of genuine curiosity and fondness; he simply didn’t want to speak.

He had done a good job at playing pretend the rest of the day, but he had no energy left to keep the mask on. The cracks were all over his features, in every forced smile, in every glance, in every blinking of tears. Your food was delicious, he complimented you on it, forced himself to swallow it fully, even if he felt like he might throw up if he kept on eating.

“Andy?”

He looked up again, noticing all of a sudden that he hadn’t paid attention to the conversation in a few minutes.

“Hmm?”

“Are you going to tell me what’s bothering you?”

You offered him a kind smile, reached for his hand across the table. An anchor, an intimate gesture of support.

His throat tightened, he couldn’t find his voice.

“Baby… it’s just me. Why are you all closed up all of a sudden?”

He gave you a sad smile, although he had aimed for it to be reassuring.

“Just…”

Just tired was the excuse, but then again, he didn’t feel like lying now. Didn’t have the strength for it. Maybe if he were honest now, you’d show him the voices were right, you’d realise what a loser he could be sometimes, how you should leave…

Shut! Up!

“It’s just… it’s just a bad day.”

“What happened?”

“Nothing. I mean… nothing in particular, I just… I don’t know… sometimes my head gets messy with thoughts for no reason. I’ve been working a lot for the past couple of months, it’s more frequent when I’m tired.”

Slowly, you nodded.

“It’s pretty bad today, right?” you asked, and he nodded.

“I’m sorry. Your meal is truly delicious, and I was really excited about having a date night. I know I’m kind of… fucking up the mood.”

“It’s okay. It’s not your fault.”

“Isn’t it?” he asked with bitterness in his voice, and he clenched his jaw at the sound.

He wouldn’t let himself get angry against you. He was in love with you. So fucking much. And you didn’t deserve that.

“There’s nothing wrong with feeling down sometimes, Andy.”

He looked down at his empty plate.

“It’s a bit worse than that.”

He heaved a sigh.

“I’m fine though, it just… It just needs to pass. I’ll be back to normal in a couple of days.”

“What do you usually do when something like that happens?”

“Erm… I just… shut down, basically. Wallow in self-pity for a while,” he tried to joke, managed to get a smile out of you. “I just… lock myself up on my own until I feel really low, and then I go out, and… it lingers a few days, sometimes a few weeks, but by then I can put a mask on again.”

“Do you put that mask on with me?”

“It hadn’t been so bad in a long time.”

“And when it’s not as bad?”

He shrugged.

“There’s no need to worry you about that.”

You raised an eyebrow, unimpressed.

“I’m your girlfriend. I tell you when I’m unwell.”

He started rubbing at his collarbone again, until the skin turned a bright shade of red.

“I don’t particularly enjoy talking about it,” he replied, his tone dry and distant.

“But I… you know you can trust me, right? That you can talk with me about these things…”

“I know… It just doesn’t help. I know how to handle this, I’m fine. I promise.”

Slowly, you nodded, but he could feel that your silence was a bad sign.

“So… usually, you just… spend time alone?”

“Yeah.”

“And it helps.”

“Yeah… yeah, it does. I just… I’m kind of introverted, in case you haven’t noticed,” he gave you a small smile. “I recharge my batteries when I’m alone.”

You seemed to be thinking for a few seconds, and then you were standing. He looked up at you in surprise.

“I should leave you alone, then.”

“Wh… what?”

“You said you needed to be alone… you should have told me, I would have let you have a moment on your own. It’s fine. I get it, if that’s what you need.”

He blinked up, not fully registering what you were doing. His brain jumped to the worst-case scenario, as per usual.

“Are you… are you breaking up with me?”

“What?! Of course, not!”

“You… you’re leaving…”

“Because you said you needed to be on your own for the evening. That’s okay. I’ll call you tomorrow.”

You heaved a sigh, took his hand in yours.

“Andy, I’m very happy with you. I know you love me. There’s nothing wrong in needing to spend some time on your own. You should have just told me. I’ll give you some space for tonight.”

You took his face in your hands, dropped a gentle kiss to his lips.

“I love you, baby,” you whispered as you pulled away. “I’ll call you tomorrow.”

And with that you left the room. He heard you fumbling with your things in the hallway.

Being alone was what he needed. He had always longed to take a step back from everyone, even his partners, when he felt like this.

Except that tonight he didn’t want you to leave. He didn’t want to be alone. He wanted to hold you as tightly as he could, and cuddle in bed, and just forget about the world outside your arms, let you hold him until he couldn’t have a single thought anymore…

He jumped to his feet, rushing across the house as you put on your coat.

“Don’t go.”

The plea cut the air like a knife.

He blinked tears away.

“Please, don’t go. I don’t want you to go,” he confessed.

“But you said…”

“I don’t want you to go.”

“I won’t be mad if you want to take the night for yourself.”

“Y/N. I don’t. Want you. To go.”

He struggled to swallow back the lump in his throat.

“Please… please, don’t leave.”

You stared at him for a moment, motionless. But then you put your coat back on its hanger, took off your shoes.

When you walked back to him, he almost started to cry.

“You’re sure?”

“Yes… please…”

Before you could say anything else, he was holding you in a tight embrace, one that you quickly reciprocated.

“What do you want us to do, then?” you asked, rubbing his back, and for the first time that day, he felt his muscles relax.

“Honestly… I just want to go to bed, cuddle with you and not move until… the end of the month.”

You laughed, kissing his shoulder through his shirt.

“Well, we’ll have to get up before that I’m afraid… but cuddling for the rest of the evening sounds nice.”

He heaved a relieved sigh.

“I’m sorry, I’m fucking up our date night… it was so lovely of you to cook and everything…”

“It’s okay. It’s fine.”

“You’re not mad?”

“Of course not.”

“Good… that’s grand…”

He finally pulled away, took your hand to guide you to his bedroom. The dishes would have to wait for tomorrow.

He got ready for bed first, and then waited for you. And while he was looking at you as you moved around the bed, plugging in your phone, setting up an alarm for the morning, drinking some water… all he wanted was to hold you close. You were the first person who made him feel that way. Who made him long for companionship even when he felt so low…

… and then, you were in bed, opening your arms for him to settle in your embrace, letting him bury his face in the crook of your neck.

Perhaps this one time, his busy brain was wrong. Perhaps you wouldn’t leave. Perhaps he would stay. And maybe, just this one time, not all things would end…

[mononijikayu]

non ho l’eta — nanami kento.

“I’m okay, sensei.” you managed to say, though your voice wavered with the effort of holding back. “It’s just... a lot to adjust to, I guess.” He nodded, but there was a flicker of something in his eyes, a question left unasked, and you wondered if he knew—if he could see the turmoil in your heart. “You don’t have to do it alone, you know.” he said after a moment, his voice soft, almost a whisper. “Whatever it is you’re going through... you can talk to me.”

GENRE: Alternate Universe - Modern AU!;

WARNING/s: Angst, Fluff, Safe For Work (SFW), Age Difference (Reader is in early 20s, Nanami is in late 30s), Unrequited Romance, Falling In Love, First Love, Emotional Hurt, Comfort, Confession, Hurt/Comfort, Pining, Loss, Letting Go, Mention of Depression, Mention of Mourning, Depiction of Physical Touch, Depiction of Depression, Depiction of Loneliness, Depiction of Grief, Depiction of Age Gap;

WORDS: 11k words.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: i told myself this was going to be only five thousand words but it ends up being so long. i'm really sorry. you've been dealing with how long this is. but i love this a lot. i wrote it listening to the song with the same title as this fic and just as much, i think about that manga i read years ago, after the rain. its a good story and the ending, where the ml lets the fl lead go because he cares about her youth - it was great. i hope you like it anyway. thank you for reading!!! i love you all <3

main masterlist

if you want to, tip! <3

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A NEW BEGINNING MUST ALWAYS COME YOU THINK. As you settle into the quiet, unfamiliar countryside, the weight of the loss still clings to you. The days are filled with the sounds of nature—birds chirping, the rustle of leaves—but they feel muted compared to the life you left behind. The house is smaller, the town quieter, and everything around you seems to move at a slower pace. But inside, the grief swirls like a storm, refusing to be tamed by the peaceful surroundings.

Your beloved brother Yuuji, always so full of energy, has been quieter since the move. He’s trying to be strong, to put on a brave face for you, but you can see the sadness in his eyes. It was obvious, with how his smile never reaching his eyes like it usually does.

And it felt odd, it felt weird. You weren’t used to your brother being in this. And it hurts you. But you know that you didn’t know what to do to comfort him. You don’t want to drive him away by speaking to him about it. And you don’t want to hurt him by making him feel like you were overbearing either. 

Your new house was still quiet. And you weren’t used to that either. Grandpa Wasuke’s voice would be ringing out through the house today, telling you both to go and start washing up so you could eat dinner. Or sometimes when you guys got home late because of sports practice, he would be too loud to scold you because you both forget to tell him that you were going home late and making him worried. 

You miss your grandfather. And you were sure of Yuuji’s feelings being the same too. The silence was too loud, even between you and your brother. You wished it wasn’t. Because you were all you had now. One evening, as you both sit on the porch, the sky painted in the soft hues of sunset, Yuji breaks the silence.

“It’s weird, isn’t it?” he begins, his voice softer than usual. “Being here, without him."

"Yeah." You mumble under your breath. "It...it is."

Your brother lets out a soft sigh. "I thought moving away would help, but...”

He trails off, staring at the horizon, his usual spark dimmed by the weight of unimaginable grief. You nod, understanding exactly what he means. The move was supposed to be a new beginning, but it feels more like an escape that didn’t quite work. And yet, you were stuck. And so was he too.

“I miss him so much, you know?” you admit, your voice trembling with emotion. “I thought...maybe if we came here, it wouldn’t hurt as much. But everything just reminds me of him. Even...even the silence......"

Yuuji looks at you, his lipspursed in a line. "I....I know."

"Grandpa’s voice is not here anymore and not hearing it anymore is just….” You feel the tears threatening to fall.

Yuuji turns to you, his expression a mix of sadness and determination. “We’ve still got each other. At least there’s that, sis.” he says, his hand reaching out to rest on yours. “And we’ll get through this. Maybe not today, or tomorrow, but...we will.”

His words are simple, but they carry a weight of hope that you cling to. The grief might not vanish with a change of scenery, but at least you have Yuji by your side. And that, somehow, makes the pain a little more bearable.

The new town was picturesque—a small, idyllic place with rolling fields, charming cottages, and a slower pace of life that starkly contrasted with the frenetic energy of the city you had left behind. The local college, with its ivy-covered walls and quaint architecture, offered a promise of new beginnings and opportunities. Yet, beneath the serene surface, both you and Yuuji felt an underlying emptiness that was impossible to ignore.

As you and Yuuji navigated your first weeks at college, you found yourselves struggling to adapt to the quieter, more insular environment. The once-familiar hum of city life, with its constant activity and vibrant energy, was replaced by the gentle rustle of leaves and the occasional chirp of birds. The silence of the countryside, while initially soothing, soon became a reminder of the profound solitude you both felt.

The college itself was a small, close-knit community, where everyone seemed to know each other. The interactions were friendly and the atmosphere warm, but the sense of being an outsider in this new world was palpable. The academic workload was manageable, but your focus was often fragmented by the persistent ache of grief. Classes that once might have been engaging felt distant and abstract, overshadowed by the weight of your personal loss.

Every corner of the town seemed to hold echoes of the life you had left behind. The quaint coffee shop that you frequented, with its rustic charm and homemade pastries, became a bittersweet reminder of the comfort you once had. The local park, with its winding paths and serene pond, offered moments of reflection but also highlighted the contrast between the peaceful surroundings and the turmoil within.

The routine of daily life was a constant struggle between embracing the new and mourning the past. Each day, you and Yuuji tried to immerse yourselves in your studies and social activities, hoping to find distraction and connection. Yet, despite your best efforts, the shadows of grief seemed to follow you, making it difficult to engage fully with the present.

Yuuji’s energy began to return with the arrival of new friends. He introduced you to them one day—Kugisaki Nobara, a fiery and confident girl with a sharp tongue, and Fushiguro Megumi, a quiet and serious boy who seemed to understand more than he let on. You watched as your brother slowly began to resemble his old self, the grief loosening its grip on him with each laugh he shared with them, each story he told. 

There was a joy in his voice that you hadn’t heard in months, a tenderness in the way he spoke about his new friends, and it warmed your heart to see him healing. You felt truly happy for him—how could you not? He deserved this chance to move forward, to find light in the darkness.

And yet, a small, stubborn pain lodged itself in your chest, growing a little each day. You couldn’t help but notice the way you were falling behind. No matter how much you tried, the sorrow still clung to you, as if you were trapped in a place where time stood still, unable to reach the same place of healing that Yuji had found.

You tried to join in, to share in his happiness, but it felt like you were on the outside looking in, a spectator in your own life. The laughter that once came so easily to you now felt forced, and every smile was tinged with a sadness you couldn’t shake.

Yuuji didn’t notice—or maybe he did, but he didn’t know how to help. He was so caught up in his new friendships, in the joy of finally finding some semblance of normalcy, that your struggles seemed to fade into the background. You didn’t blame him for it; you were glad he had found something to hold onto. But the loneliness was there, a constant reminder that while he was moving forward, you were still stuck in the past, unable to move on.

A lot of this was on you—that much you were painfully aware of. Yuuji had nothing to do with your unhappiness; he had been nothing but supportive, trying his best to bring some light back into your life. No, it was you who clung to the sorrow, who let it seep into every corner of your being until it became a part of you. You were the one at fault, wallowing in the pain because it felt like the only way to hold on to the past.

Maybe, in some twisted way, you were punishing yourself. The guilt gnawed at you, whispering that you hadn’t been a good enough granddaughter, that you had failed him in some way. And the thought of moving on, of letting go of the grief, felt like a betrayal. Because if you forgot, if you let the pain fade, what would be left of your grandfather? Wouldn’t that mean he didn’t exist anymore? 

You couldn’t bear the thought. He was all you and Yuuji had, the one who had raised you, who had been your anchor in a world that often felt too chaotic to navigate alone. Clinging to him, to the pain, to the loneliness he had left behind—it felt like the only way to keep him close, to make sure he wasn’t forgotten. 

You knew it wasn’t healthy, that it was holding you back while Yuuji was moving forward. But you couldn’t let go. Not yet. Not when it felt like losing him all over again. So you held on, hoping that by keeping the pain alive, you could keep a part of him with you, even if it meant sacrificing your own happiness in the process.

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YOU REALIZED THAT YOU WERE A NIGHT OWL. Because the night felt like a relief. Even if it was too loud, the night was kinder than the day. It was two sides of the coin, a mercy and a pain still, you think. The silence of the countryside was both a comfort and a torment.

The absence of city noise left space for your thoughts to swirl, allowing the grief to settle in more deeply. The memories of your grandfather, so vivid and cherished, felt both near and painfully out of reach, teasing you with their closeness yet reminding you of the distance that now separated you.

The quiet of the countryside, which had once promised peace, now seemed to amplify the emptiness left by his passing. During the day, you could distract yourself with the mundane tasks of settling into a new home, but when night fell, the stillness felt oppressive, as if the world had stopped moving just to remind you of what you’d lost.

It was a strange paradox—the night brought a certain relief, a break from the pretense of normalcy that the day demanded, but it also intensified the ache within you. The darkness was both a sanctuary and a prison, offering solace in its quiet yet refusing to let you escape the sorrow that lay just beneath the surface. In the night, you could almost feel him there, his presence lingering in the shadows, but it was a comfort tinged with the sharp pain of knowing he was gone.

The countryside, with its vast, empty spaces and endless quiet, had a way of magnifying your loneliness. What was supposed to be a balm for your grief had instead become a mirror, reflecting the void his absence had created in your life. And so, as you lay in bed, staring into the darkness, you couldn’t help but feel that the night, though kinder in some ways, also held a cruelty of its own—one that forced you to confront the depth of your loss in the silence that surrounded you.

During the day, you tried to lose yourself in the routine of university life, hoping that the distraction would somehow ease the ache. But even the familiar rhythm of lectures and assignments couldn’t drown out the emptiness that had settled within you. It was in one of these moments, as you sat quietly in the college library, as he approached you after the lecture, his usual composed expression softened by concern.

“May I ask you something?” he said, his voice low and measured. There was no judgment in his tone, only a gentle curiosity that made you nod in response.

“Why are you still here?” he asked, his gaze steady on yours. “Why are you still in university?”

The question caught you off guard. It wasn’t something you had given much thought to—not really. You had simply kept going, attending classes, completing assignments, because that’s what you were supposed to do. But now, confronted by professor Nanami Kento’s calm and earnest inquiry, you find yourself struggling to answer.

You hesitated, searching for words that didn’t come easily. “I don’t know, sensei.” you finally admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. “I guess... It's what I’ve always done. For relief….But I just….I don’t….”

Nanami nodded, as if he had expected that answer. “But is it what you want? To be here?” he asked, his tone gentle but insistent. “Or are you here because it’s easier to keep going than to stop and face what you’re really feeling?”

The honesty in his words cut through the numbness that had settled over you. You looked away, unable to meet his gaze as the truth of his question sank in. Why were you still here? Was it because you truly wanted to be, or because it was easier to bury yourself in routine than to confront the grief that was still so raw and overwhelming?

“I don’t know, sensei.” you repeated, your voice trembling now. “I don’t know what I want anymore.”

Nanami didn’t push you for more. Instead, he simply stood there, offering his presence as a quiet support. “It’s okay not to know anything.” he said after a moment. “It’s okay to take time to figure it out. But don’t be afraid to ask yourself these questions. Don’t be afraid to face what’s really going on inside.”

His words lingered with you long after he had left, echoing in the silence of your room that night. For the first time, you allowed yourself to consider the possibility that maybe, just maybe, it was okay to pause, to question, to not have all the answers right away. Maybe it was okay to admit that you were still hurting, still lost, and that you didn’t have to have it all figured out just yet.

From what you remember, the first person to truly notice your pain was your professor in Philosophy—Nanami Kento. He was always composed, with a stern exterior that didn’t betray much emotion, but there was a kindness in his eyes that softened whenever he looked at you and Yuuji. Perhaps it was because he understood, on some level, what it was like to carry the burden of loss.

Nanami–sensei never pried, never asked questions that would force you to confront what you weren’t ready to face. But there was something in the way he looked at you, a quiet understanding that made you feel seen, even in your darkest moments. He didn’t offer empty words of comfort or try to tell you that things would get better with time. Instead, he acknowledged your pain with a simple nod or a gentle word, as if to say that it was okay to feel what you were feeling.

You often caught him watching you during lectures, his gaze lingering a moment longer than necessary, as if he was trying to assess how you were holding up. He’d ask you how you were doing in a way that suggested he wasn’t just asking about your academic performance but about you as a person, as someone who was grieving. His presence was steady, a quiet anchor in the storm of emotions you were struggling to navigate.

In those moments, you felt a strange sense of comfort. Nanami didn’t try to fix you, didn’t push you to move on before you were ready. He simply let you exist in your pain, offering a silent understanding that you weren’t alone in it. And though it didn’t make the nights any easier or the grief any less suffocating, it was a small comfort to know that someone else understood, that someone else had been there too.

Somehow, it was easy to see in his eyes that he had gone through something similar, and that pained him in some way. And he hated that someone were to be in a position akin to yours, in a similar conundrum so young as you were.  He took it upon himself to make sure you were both doing okay, often checking in on you, offering guidance, and making sure that neither of you felt alone.

The late afternoon sun cast long shadows through the office window, illuminating the neat rows of books and papers that lined Nanami’s desk. The quiet hum of the air conditioner was the only sound in the room as you sat across from him, feeling the weight of your emotions as you tried to make sense of your new life.

“Nanami–sensei.” you began, your voice soft but determined, “I’ve noticed you’ve been going out of your way to check in on me. I appreciate it, really, but I can’t help but feel like there’s more to it. You seem to understand what we’re going through in a way that’s more than just professional.”

Nanami looked up from his papers, his gaze meeting yours with a hint of sadness. He leaned back in his chair, taking a moment before responding. “It’s not easy to see young people struggling with grief and loss. It brings back memories of my own experiences, of times when I had to navigate similar challenges.”

You frowned slightly, sensing the depth of his feelings. “You’ve been through something like this yourself?”

Nanami nodded, his expression reflecting the weight of past pain. “Yes. I’ve had my share of losses, and while each experience is unique, it is normal. Seeing you in such heavy burdens….I must help in that. It is my duty.”

A moment of silence passed between you, the gravity of his words settling over the room. You could see the empathy in his warm brown eyes, a deep well of understanding that went beyond mere sympathy. 

“I didn’t realize you had experienced something like this, sensei.” you said quietly. “It’s comforting to know that you understand, but it’s also hard to see how much it affects you. I’m so sorry about what happened to you, sensei.”

Nanami’s gaze softened as he looked at you. “Please don’t worry. I don’t mind. And I try to keep my personal experiences separate from my role as a teacher, but sometimes it’s inevitable. I can’t help but empathize deeply with students who are struggling. If it helps you, then maybe it would make it easier on you.”

You nodded, appreciating the honesty and vulnerability he was showing. “It’s been hard for us to adjust, with everything that’s happened. I understand, sensei. But….. Your support has made a difference, even if we haven’t always known how to express it.”

Nanami offered a small, reassuring smile. “I’m glad to hear that. I want to make sure you and Yuuji know that you’re not alone in this. Sometimes, just knowing that someone cares and is willing to listen can make a difference.”

There was a sense of mutual understanding in the room, a connection forged through shared experiences and empathy. The conversation had brought a sense of clarity, revealing the depth of Nanami’s compassion and the personal struggles he had faced.

“You’ve been a source of support and I want to thank you for that.” you said, feeling a sense of gratitude. “It’s good to know that...we have someone. It's...good. That I...I have someone, sensei.”

Nanami’s expression was one of gentle encouragement. “You’re welcome. If you ever need someone to talk to or guidance as you navigate this transition, don’t hesitate to reach out. My door is always open.”

At first, it was just a relief to have someone looking out for you, someone who cared enough to notice the cracks in your armor. But as time went on, you found yourself longing for more of his attention, craving the comfort he provided. His presence was steady, reassuring, a shining new light that gave you warmth in the cold uncertainty of your new life.

Every glance, every word of encouragement, every moment spent with him, stirred something deep within you. You began to realize that it wasn’t just gratitude or respect that you felt for him. It was something more, something that made your heart race and your thoughts linger on him long after he had gone. You were falling in love with Nanami Kento, and as frightening as it was to acknowledge, it was also something you could no longer deny.

The realization that you were in love with Nanami Kento crept up on you slowly, like the dawn breaking over the quiet countryside. At first, you tried to brush it off, convincing yourself that it was just a fleeting infatuation born out of your need for comfort in a difficult time. But the more you tried to suppress those feelings, the stronger they became.

It started with the way your heart would skip a beat when he entered the room, the way your eyes would search for him in a crowd, hoping for just a brief moment of connection. You found yourself hanging onto his every word, cherishing the conversations you shared, no matter how brief. His calm demeanor, his quiet strength, the way he seemed to understand you without needing to ask too many questions—it all drew you in, making you feel safe in a world that had felt so unstable for so long.

The more time you spent with him, the more you found yourself yearning for his presence, even when he wasn’t around. You would replay your interactions in your mind, searching for hidden meanings in his words, wondering if he felt even a fraction of what you were feeling. The thought of being in love with him was both exhilarating and terrifying, a delicate balance between hope and fear.

You knew it was risky, that opening your heart to someone else meant making yourself vulnerable again, something you weren’t sure you were ready for. But the warmth you felt in Nanami’s presence, the way he made you feel like you weren’t alone in your pain, was something you couldn’t ignore. And so, despite the fear, despite the uncertainty, you allowed yourself to embrace the feelings growing inside you, no longer able to deny the truth: you were in love with Nanami Kento.

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IT FELT WRONG TO FEEL GENUINE FEELINGS FOR HIM. But you just can't help yourself. You had found something warm in your life for the first time in a long time. And you wanted to hold onto theat feeling, even just for a little while.

You found yourself looking forward to Nanami's lectures with a new sense of anticipation, one that went beyond the academic content. It wasn't just about the subject matter or the intellectual challenge; it was the way his presence seemed to anchor you in a world that often felt tumultuous.

His voice, calm and measured, had a soothing quality that cut through the noise of your internal struggles, providing a sense of stability that was both comforting and invigorating. It felt like the sun in the morning sky, greeting you with all the warmth it could offer.

Every lecture became a sanctuary of sorts, a place where the outside world faded away and all that remained was the rhythmic cadence of his speech and the depth of his insights. His voice had a way of wrapping around you like a soft blanket, offering warmth and clarity in moments of confusion. It was as if he spoke directly to your soul, providing the reassurance you craved without even realizing it.

You began to pay closer attention to the little details of his presence, each one becoming a part of the mosaic of your growing affection. You noticed how he always carried a thermos of coffee, a small but meaningful ritual that seemed to add a personal touch to his professional demeanor. It was a simple thing, but it spoke to a side of him that was both grounded and familiar, like a quiet reflection of his everyday life.

The way he adjusted his glasses when he was deep in thought fascinated you. It was a small, habitual gesture that seemed to signal his immersion in the subject, his focus and dedication to his work. In those moments, when he was lost in contemplation, you saw a different side of him—one that was entirely absorbed in the pursuit of knowledge and understanding. It was a reminder of his depth, his passion for what he did, and it drew you in further.

And then there were the rare but genuine smiles that occasionally graced his lips. These smiles were not frequent, but when they appeared, they were like fleeting glimpses of sunlight breaking through the clouds. They were unguarded and sincere, revealing a side of him that was warm and approachable. These moments were precious to you, a sign that beneath his composed exterior, there was a person who experienced joy and kindness in the midst of his professional life.

Each detail, each nuance of his behavior, seemed to create a rich tapestry that captivated you. The combination of his voice, his habits, and his rare smiles painted a portrait of someone who was both steadfast and deeply human. As you became more attuned to these subtleties, you found yourself drawn to him in ways you hadn't anticipated. The more you observed, the more you appreciated the intricate layers of his character, each one adding depth to your feelings and making it even harder to keep your emotions in check.

In the quiet moments between lectures, when you would reflect on these details, you felt a growing sense of connection to him. It was as if the little things he did were speaking directly to your heart, creating a bond that was both profound and fragile. And with each passing day, the realization that you were falling for him became more undeniable, a truth that both comforted and challenged you as you navigated the complexities of your emotions.

Each day with the distance, your heart kept making a way towards Nanami–sensei, slowly weaving themselves into the fabric of your life in ways you couldn’t have anticipated. You found yourself looking forward to his classes with an eagerness that surprised you, your thoughts consumed by the anticipation of seeing him, hearing his voice, and perhaps catching one of those brief, meaningful glances that seemed to hold a world of unspoken understanding.

Your interactions with him took on a new significance. Every exchange, no matter how small, became a moment to savor. You began to notice the little things about him—the way he would adjust his tie with meticulous precision, the way his eyes softened when he spoke to you, the subtle way his lips would curve into a faint smile when you managed to make him laugh. These details became precious to you, feeding the growing affection in your heart.

But with that growing affection came a gnawing anxiety. You were all too aware of the delicate nature of your feelings, and the fear of rejection loomed large in your mind. What if he didn’t feel the same way? What if your admiration was one-sided, a product of your own need for comfort and connection? The thought of losing the quiet understanding and support he offered terrified you, and so you kept your feelings hidden, tucked away in the quiet corners of your heart.

Yet, no matter how hard you tried to keep your emotions in check, they found ways to surface. You noticed that you began to linger after class, hoping for a few extra moments with him. You found yourself volunteering for tasks you knew would require his guidance, just to have an excuse to be near him. And when he asked you how you were doing, his concern evident in his voice, you felt a pang of longing so intense it nearly took your breath away.

And then, one afternoon, as you were gathering your things after class, Nanami Kento and you bumped into each other. You blinked as you stopped. When you realized who he was, you gasped and bowed. You started to apologize to him. There was a hesitation in his movements, an uncharacteristic uncertainty that made your heart race. 

“I’m so sorry, Nanami-sensei. I didn’t mean it—” you stammered, your voice trembling with the weight of unsaid words. The apology slipped out before you could fully process it, driven by a fear that you had somehow crossed a line, exposing too much of yourself.

Nanami’s expression remained calm, his eyes studying you with an unreadable intensity. For a moment, you feared that you had made things awkward, that the fragile connection between you might shatter under the pressure of your emotions.

But then, with a gentleness that both surprised and reassured you, he spoke. “May I walk you to your next class?” His voice was low and steady, grounding you in the moment. But there was something else in his tone, a subtle shift that hinted at a deeper concern, a connection that went beyond the formal boundaries of teacher and student.

You hesitated, the words catching in your throat. The offer was simple, yet the way he framed it made it feel like more—a gesture of care, a quiet acknowledgment of the unspoken feelings that had been building between you.

Unable to trust your voice, you nodded, grateful for the reprieve. Together, you fell into step, the silence between you heavy with unsaid thoughts, yet comforting in its familiarity. 

As you walked, you couldn’t help but wonder if Nanami sensed the turmoil within you, if he understood the depth of what you had tried to keep hidden. And as the campus buzzed quietly around you, the world outside seemed to fade, leaving just the two of you in a moment suspended in time.

Finally, he spoke, his voice breaking the silence with a gentleness that caught you off guard. “You seem... different lately.” he said, his words careful, as if he was treading on fragile ground. “Is everything alright?”

The concern in his voice was genuine, and it took everything in you to hold back the flood of emotions that his words triggered. You wanted to tell him everything, to pour out your heart and confess the feelings that had been building inside you for so long. But the fear held you back, kept your words locked away.

“I’m okay, sensei.” you managed to say, though your voice wavered with the effort of holding back. “It’s just... a lot to adjust to, I guess.”

He nodded, but there was a flicker of something in his eyes, a question left unasked, and you wondered if he knew—if he could see the turmoil in your heart.

“You don’t have to do it alone, you know.” he said after a moment, his voice soft, almost a whisper. “Whatever it is you’re going through... you can talk to me.”

His words were a lifeline, and for a moment, you were tempted to grab hold, to let yourself be vulnerable in a way you hadn’t allowed yourself to be since your grandfather’s passing. But the fear of what might happen if you did—if you let him see how deeply you had fallen for him—kept you silent.

Instead, you offered him a small, grateful smile. “Thank you, Nanami-sensei. That means a lot.”

He nodded, his eyes searching yours for a moment longer before he looked away, the moment passing as quickly as it had come. But even as the silence returned, you couldn’t help but feel that something had changed between you. 

Yuuji, ever the perceptive brother, began to pick up on the changes in you with his usual blend of curiosity and teasing. He’d comment on your newfound enthusiasm for school, his tone lighthearted and playful.

“Wow, someone’s really getting into their classes these days.” he’d say, a mischievous grin spreading across his face. “Are you trying to impress a certain someone?”

But behind his teasing, there was always a hint of concern in his eyes. He knew you well enough to sense when something was amiss, even if you were trying your best to mask it. The bond between you and Yuuji has always been strong, built on shared experiences and mutual support. Now, with only the two of you facing the world, his worry for you was palpable.

You were acutely aware of his concern, but discussing your feelings for Nanami–sensei felt like navigating a minefield. It was a topic too delicate, too intricate to lay bare. The emotions you were grappling with were still forming, shifting and evolving in ways you couldn’t fully articulate. The fear of misunderstanding, the potential for things to become awkward or strained, made it almost impossible to open up to Yuuji about it.

So you chose to keep your feelings close, wrapped in the quiet spaces of your heart. Whenever Yuuji’s concern for you surfaced, you would offer a reassuring smile and change the subject, deflecting his probing questions with practiced ease. 

“Just trying to find my footing, bro.” you’d say, your voice steady despite the turmoil inside. “You know how it is, trying to make the most of a new start.”

“You sure?” He asks you, a warm concern in his eyes. 

You smiled at him. “I do. I’m fine. Really.”

Yuuji would accept your evasions with a nod, his worry temporarily set aside as he shifted his focus to lighter matters. But you could see the question in his eyes, the unspoken concern that lingered even as he attempted to mask it with humor. 

In your heart, you appreciated his concern more than you could express. But the feelings you had for Nanami remained a private struggle, something you needed to work through on your own before you could even begin to share it with anyone, even Yuuji. For now, you hold onto the fragile hope that, in time, you would find a way to navigate your emotions, to understand them and perhaps, one day, to share them without fear.

As you continued to go through your days, the quiet moments with Nanami remained a solace and a source of intense longing. His presence in your life was a beacon, guiding you through the uncertainty of your new surroundings. And though you struggled with the weight of your feelings, you found a measure of comfort in knowing that he was there, a constant, reassuring presence in the midst of the turmoil.

Your interactions with Nanami–sensei became the highlights of your day. You’d catch his gaze during class, and for a moment, it felt like the rest of the world faded away. There were times when he’d linger after class, asking if you and Yuuji were settling in okay, if you needed anything. His concern felt genuine, and every time he spoke to you, you felt a warmth spreading through your chest.

But with that warmth came uncertainty. Nanami was your sensei, a mentor figure, someone who had taken on the role of a protector for you and your brother. The lines between student and teacher, between gratitude and affection, were blurring in ways that scared you. You couldn’t help but wonder if he could ever see you as anything more than just a student or a young person in need of guidance.

As the days turned into weeks, you found yourself drawn to him more and more, despite your best efforts to keep your emotions in check. There were moments when you thought you caught something in his eyes, a softness that made you wonder if he might feel something too. But those moments were fleeting, gone before you could fully grasp them.

Still, the longing grew, becoming an ache that you couldn’t ignore. You yearned for more than just his care and concern; you wanted to be closer to him, to know him beyond the walls of the classroom. But the fear of rejection, of ruining the fragile bond you had with him, kept you silent.

The conflict within you was a constant companion, as you tried to navigate your feelings while maintaining the façade of normalcy. You knew that falling in love with Nanami was risky, that it could lead to heartache, but your heart seemed to have a mind of its own, pushing you toward him despite the potential consequences.

You lingered in the classroom long after the other students had left, your movements slow and deliberate as you packed your bag. The quiet of the room was comforting, a stark contrast to the whirlwind of thoughts in your mind. Yuuji had already gone off to his club activities, leaving you alone with your thoughts—and with Nanami.

As you reached for your bag, you felt a pair of eyes on you, an almost tangible weight that drew your gaze. Glancing up, you saw Nanami watching you from his desk, his expression thoughtful, a subtle crease forming between his brows.

His eyes, usually so composed and distant, now held a depth that seemed to reflect his internal contemplation. The warmth of his gaze made your heart skip a beat, and for a moment, the world around you felt like it had narrowed to just the two of you.

You could feel the pull of his attention, the way it lingered on you with a quiet intensity. It was as if he was searching for something, trying to understand a part of you that you hadn’t yet revealed. The weight of his gaze was both comforting and unnerving, a silent conversation that spoke volumes.

Trying to steady yourself, you offered him a tentative smile, hoping it would convey the reassurance you struggled to articulate. But his eyes remained fixed on you, and you wondered what thoughts were running through his mind.

“You’re still here this late.” he said, his voice gentle in the stillness. “Everything alright?”

You hesitated, unsure of how to put your feelings into words. “Yeah, I just… needed a moment to myself.”

Nanami nodded, rising from his chair and walking over to you. He stopped a few feet away, leaning casually against the desk beside you, his arms crossed. Despite his composed demeanor, there was something warm in his gaze, something that made your heart flutter.

“It’s been a lot to adjust to, hasn’t it?” he said, his voice low and steady. “A new town, new school, after everything that’s happened.”

You looked down, your fingers nervously playing with the strap of your bag. “Yeah, it has. But… having you here has helped. More than you know, sensei.”

There was a pause, and when you dared to look up, you saw that his expression had softened even more. The usual sternness in his eyes was gone, replaced by a gentleness that made your breath catch.

“I’m glad I could help you.” Nanami replied quietly. He uncrossed his arms, his hand almost reaching out to you before he stopped himself, letting it fall to his side. “You have been through a lot. It’s only natural to need support.”

You felt a lump form in your throat. The way he spoke, the concern in his voice—it was all too much, and yet not enough. You wanted to say more, to tell him how much his presence meant to you, how much you looked forward to these moments alone with him. But the words wouldn’t come. Instead, you just nodded, your heart pounding in your chest.

Nanami Kento seemed to sense your inner turmoil. He stepped a little closer, his gaze never leaving yours. “If there’s anything you need, anything at all, you know you can come to me, right?”

The sincerity in his voice, the closeness of his presence—it made something inside you ache. You wanted so badly to close the distance between you, to feel his arms around you, to find comfort in his embrace. But you knew you couldn’t. Not yet.

“I know, sensei.” you whispered, your voice barely audible. “Thank you… for everything.”

He smiled then, a small, rare smile that sent warmth flooding through you. “You don’t have to thank me. Just… take care of yourself. And your brother Yuuji, too. He seems like a good young man too.”

You nodded again, but as you turned to leave, you couldn’t help but glance back at him one last time. He was still watching you, that same gentle look in his eyes, and you knew then that your feelings were undeniable.

As you walked out of the classroom, your heart felt heavier with the weight of your unspoken emotions, but there was also a small, flickering hope. Maybe, just maybe, there was a chance that Nanami could feel the same way.

But even then, you were acutely aware of your limitations and the vast knowledge gap that existed between you and Nanami. He was older, more experienced, a man who had seen and done so much more than you could even imagine. It wasn’t just his age or his wisdom that set him apart—it was the way he carried himself, with a quiet confidence and a sense of purpose that you found both admirable and intimidating.

As much as you were drawn to him, a part of you couldn’t help but doubt whether your feelings could ever be returned. You were still so young, barely stepping into adulthood, while Nanami had long since found his place in the world. What could someone like him possibly see in you? The thought lingered in the back of your mind, a constant reminder of the distance between you.

And then there was the fear—the fear that he might not like you in the way you hoped. He was kind to you, yes, and he looked out for you and Yuuji with a care that went beyond mere duty. But did that kindness stem from affection, or was it simply his nature to protect those who needed it? You didn’t know, and the uncertainty gnawed at you.

The truth was, you couldn’t see how he would ever reciprocate your feelings. He was your professor, a mentor figure, someone who had taken on the role of a guardian in your life. To him, you were just a student, someone who needed guidance and support, not a romantic partner. And yet, despite all your doubts and fears, you couldn’t stop the way your heart leapt whenever you were near him.

The rational part of you tried to suppress those feelings, to remind yourself of the unlikelihood of anything ever happening between you. But the heart has a way of ignoring logic, and yours had latched onto Nanami in a way that was becoming impossible to ignore. You were in love with him, even if you couldn’t say it aloud, even if you didn’t think he could ever feel the same way.

So, you kept those feelings locked away, hidden behind polite smiles and carefully chosen words. It was safer that way, less painful than risking rejection. But even as you tried to push your emotions aside, you knew that they were there, just beneath the surface, waiting for the slightest opportunity to break free.

After a particularly long day of classes, you and Yuuji walked home together under the fading light of the setting sun. His friends were going to be busy tonight, so you were able to go home together. He insisted to help you with your school bag, but you kept insisting that it was fine. Yet, he was your older brother (by four minutes) and had pulled that card and carried your bag for you anyway.  

The countryside was quiet, the only sounds being the crunch of gravel beneath your shoes and the distant chirping of crickets. Yuuji had been unusually quiet, and you could feel his eyes on you every now and then, as if he was trying to gauge something. Finally, as you neared your home, he spoke up.

"Hey, you’ve been acting kinda different lately." Yuuji said, his tone light but tinged with concern. "Is everything okay?"

You glanced at him, caught off guard by his sudden observation. "Different? What do you mean?"

Yuuji shrugged, stuffing his hands into his pockets. "I don’t know. You just seem… I don’t know, distracted? Like your mind’s somewhere else. I noticed you’ve been staying late at school a lot too."

You felt a flush rise to your cheeks and quickly looked away, hoping he wouldn’t notice. "It’s nothing, really. Just trying to keep up with everything, I guess."

But Yuuji wasn’t so easily convinced. He stopped walking, turning to face you fully. "It’s more than that, isn’t it? You know you can talk to me, right? We’re in this together."

There was no escaping it now. You sighed, knowing that Yuuji wasn’t going to let this go. "It’s just… there’s a lot on my mind. And yeah, I’ve been thinking about someone."

Yuuji raised an eyebrow, his curiosity piqued. "Someone? Like who?"

You hesitated, the words stuck in your throat. Finally, you admitted, "It’s Nanami-sensei."

Yuuji blinked, processing this information. "Nanami-sensei? Our professor Nanami? Who’s like… way older than you?"

You winced at the bluntness of his words. "Yeah, I know. It’s not exactly… ideal."

Yuuji softened, realizing that this was something you were struggling with. "Hey, I didn’t mean it like that. I just… didn’t expect it, that’s all. I mean, he’s a good guy, but… you really like him, don’t you?"

You nodded slowly, feeling a mix of relief and anxiety at finally saying it out loud. "I do. But it’s complicated, Yuuji. He’s older....and I don’t even know if he’d ever see me that way....I doubt it. I feel like I’m just setting myself up for disappointment. And it’s not…It’s not right. There’s so much wrong with it. I know.”

Yuuji frowned, deep in thought. "That’s a tough spot to be in. But you know, Nanami-sensei seems to care about you a lot. He’s always checking in on you, making sure you’re okay. Maybe there’s more there than you think."

You shook your head, the doubts creeping back in. "Or maybe he’s just being kind because he knows we’ve been through a lot. It’s not like he’d ever look at me the way I look at him. It’s….It’s wrong.”

Yuuji placed a comforting hand on your shoulder, his touch warm and grounding. “Even if he doesn’t feel the same way, it doesn’t mean you’re not worth it. You deserve to feel some happiness. Even if you never say it to him. Even if you don’t act on it, it’s how you feel. Wrong or right, it’s still human feelings, isn’t it?”

“I just… What should I do? It’s going to be bad, Yuuji. I don’t want to do things that would be bad for me and especially for Nanami-sensei. Over my childish feelings.”

Yuuji’s expression softened, his eyes filled with a mix of empathy and determination. “Listen, it’s not about being childish. Feelings are complicated and real, and they don’t just go away because we want them to. What matters is how you handle them.”

He paused, giving you a reassuring squeeze. “Maybe the best thing you can do right now is to take things one step at a time. Figure out what’s best without rushing or putting yourself in a difficult position."

You listened, trying to absorb his words. They offered a sense of perspective, a reminder that navigating your feelings didn’t have to be an all-or-nothing endeavor. Yuuji’s encouragement made you feel less isolated in your struggle, less like you were facing this alone.

“Thanks, bro.” you said quietly, your voice carrying the weight of both gratitude and the lingering uncertainty. “I guess I just need to give myself a bit more grace, and maybe, take a step back to really understand what’s best.”

Yuuji nodded, a reassuring smile on his face. “Exactly. Give yourself the space to figure things out, and don’t be too hard on yourself. Emotions are messy, and that’s okay, hm?”

You looked at him, grateful for his unwavering support. "Thanks, Yuuji. I really needed to hear that."

He grinned, giving you a playful nudge. "What are brothers for? Besides, I kinda want to see how this turns out."

You couldn’t help but laugh, the tension easing slightly. For now, the future was still uncertain, but at least you knew you had Yuuji by your side, no matter what happened next. And maybe, he was all you needed. Because at the end of the day, you know how it will all work out. How it will all end. But you let yourself dream anyway. 

You were idealistic, often finding yourself lost in daydreams where you would gather the courage to approach Nanami. In those fantasies, you imagined asking him for patience, telling him that one day, when the time was right, you would be ready to offer your love completely. You pictured yourself standing before him, your heart in your hands, promising that with time, you could bridge the gap between your worlds.

But deep down, you knew this was nothing more than romantic idealism—a longing to experience a love that felt as profound as the feelings you harbored for him. The desire to be seen, to be cherished by someone as steadfast and admirable as Nanami Kento, was powerful, but it was also grounded in a reality you couldn’t ignore.

As much as you wanted to believe that your love could transcend the differences between you, there was a part of you that understood the truth. You were too young, too inexperienced, and no matter how much you grew, there would always be a gap that time alone couldn’t close. Nanami–sensei wasn’t just older—he was wiser, more grounded, and had already lived through phases of life that you had yet to experience.

The more you thought about it, the more you realized that he likely wouldn’t want to love someone younger, someone who was still finding their place in the world. His kindness toward you, his care and concern, came from a place of responsibility, not from the kind of romantic interest you wished for. You knew that he saw you as a student, maybe even as someone who needed guidance, but not as an equal partner in love.

This understanding brought with it a quiet, bittersweet resignation. You loved Nanami, perhaps more than you ever thought you could love anyone, but you knew that he wasn’t the one for you. The future you imagined, where you and Nanami could be together, was a beautiful dream, but it was just that—a dream.

As much as it hurt to admit, you knew you had to let go of that dream, to accept that some things, no matter how deeply you wished for them, weren’t meant to be.

The days that followed were a mix of emotions—moments where you felt determined to move on, followed by others where your heart clung stubbornly to the hope that maybe, just maybe, things could be different. But as time passed, reality became harder to ignore, and you found yourself slowly coming to terms with the truth.

You still admired Nanami–sensei, still cared for him deeply, but you began to see him in a different light. Instead of focusing on the impossible, you tried to appreciate what you did have—a mentor who genuinely cared for your well-being, someone who had guided you through a difficult period of your life. It wasn’t the romantic love you had dreamed of, but it was something valuable, something that had shaped you in ways you hadn’t fully understood before.

In your quieter moments, when you were alone with your thoughts, you allowed yourself to grieve the loss of that dream. It was painful to let go, but you knew it was necessary. Holding on to something that could never be would only cause more heartache in the long run.

═════╰☆╮═════

HE KNOWS THAT HE’S NOT A GOOD MAN. Because what good man can feel like this? Nanami Kento had always prided himself on his ability to maintain control, to keep a clear head no matter the situation. It was a skill honed through years of experience, of facing the harsh realities of life and coming out on the other side with a firm grip on his emotions. But lately, that control had begun to slip, and it all started with you.

At first, he dismissed the subtle changes in his behavior as nothing more than his natural inclination to look after those who needed guidance. You and Yuuji had been through a lot, and it was only right that he, as your teacher, offered support where he could. But as the days turned into weeks, he couldn’t ignore the way his thoughts kept drifting back to you—your quiet resilience, your gentle smiles, the way your eyes lit up when you spoke about something you were passionate about.

It wasn’t long before he realized the truth: he was growing attached to you in ways that went far beyond the boundaries of a student-teacher relationship. It was a realization that troubled him deeply, shaking the foundations of the discipline he had built his life upon.

Nanami noticed the way your eyes lingered on him, the subtle shifts in your demeanor whenever you were around him. He wasn’t blind to the affection you tried so hard to keep hidden, the way you seemed to seek out his presence, even if only for a few moments of conversation. There were times when he almost allowed himself to reciprocate, to let his guard down and acknowledge the feelings that were steadily growing in his chest.

But each time, he pulled back, reminding himself of the stark reality of your situation. You were young, with your whole life ahead of you, full of potential and promise. You deserve someone who could match your energy, someone who could grow with you, not someone like him—someone who had already been worn down by the world, who had seen and done things he wished he could forget.

It wasn’t fair to you, he thought, to burden you with the affections of a man who had lost his youth, who had seen too much to ever be truly carefree again. You deserved more than what he could offer, and the thought of tainting your bright future with the shadows of his past was unbearable.

So, Nanami Kento buried his feelings deep inside, locking them away where they couldn’t hurt you—or him. He told himself that it was the right thing to do, that maintaining a professional distance was the only way to protect you both. But no matter how hard he tried, those feelings remained, lurking just beneath the surface, ready to break free at the slightest provocation.

There were moments when he questioned his resolve, when the weight of his own emotions threatened to overwhelm him. But each time, he steeled himself, knowing that this was a line he couldn’t cross. He cared too much about you to allow himself to be selfish, to act on feelings that could only lead to pain and regret.

In the end, Nanami chose to distance himself, subtly at first, hoping you wouldn’t notice. He still checked in on you, still offered his guidance when you needed it, but he made sure to keep a barrier between you, a wall that kept his emotions firmly in check. It was agonizing, knowing that he was pushing away something that could have been beautiful, but he knew it was the only way to ensure that you remained unscathed by the harsh realities of his world.

You were too precious, too full of life, to be drawn into the darkness that he carried with him. And so, Nanami resolved to watch over you from afar, to be the steady presence you could rely on, but never more than that. It was his duty, his responsibility, to protect you—not just from the dangers of the world, but from himself as well.

No matter how much it hurt, no matter how strong his feelings for you became, Nanami knew he had to bury them deep, where they would never see the light of day. It was the only way to ensure that you remained untouched by the shadows of his past, free to find a love that was worthy of you, even if that love could never be his.

Nanami Kento had been wrestling with his emotions in solitude, believing that burying his feelings was the only way to protect you from the shadows of his past. It was a decision made with the utmost care, a sacrifice he felt necessary to ensure your happiness. But his internal struggle did not go unnoticed by his colleagues, Gojo Satoru and Shoko Ieiri, who were perceptive enough to sense that something was troubling their friend.

One evening, after a particularly challenging day, Gojo and Shoko decided to check in on Nanami. They found him in the teachers’ lounge, sitting alone with a cup of tea, his expression distant. Gojo, ever the perceptive one, noted the pensive look on Nanami’s face and exchanged a glance with Shoko before approaching him.

“Hey, Nanami!” Gojo greeted, his tone casual but with an underlying concern. “You’ve been a bit off lately. Everything okay?”

Nanami looked up, masking his emotions with a practiced smile. “Just a lot on my mind. Nothing to worry about.”

Shoko, who had been quietly observing, took a seat beside him. “It’s clear something’s bothering you. You don’t have to go through this alone, you know.”

Nanami’s smile faltered, and he sighed deeply, feeling the weight of his hidden feelings press heavily on him. “I appreciate your concern. It’s just… some feelings are better left buried.”

Gojo raised an eyebrow, leaning back in his chair. “Feelings, huh? Sounds like there’s more to it than just a heavy workload.”

Nanami hesitated before speaking, his voice low. “I’ve been trying to protect someone from my own shortcomings. It’s not fair for them to be burdened with my past, my complexities.”

Shoko’s eyes softened with understanding. “It sounds like you’re talking about… someone important. Someone who means a lot to you.”

Nanami nodded, his gaze fixed on his tea. “Yes, someone who deserves better than what I can offer. It’s better this way.”

Gojo, always one to push boundaries, leaned forward, his expression serious. “Nanami, it’s okay to feel like love is unattainable. It’s okay to have feelings and to struggle with them. But don’t forget that you’re human too. You deserve happiness, even if it’s complicated. And even if you don’t act on it. Feeling it is not wrong.”

Shoko nodded in agreement, her voice gentle but firm. “You’ve been carrying this burden alone, trying to shield someone else from your own pain. But it’s important to acknowledge your own feelings, to give yourself permission to be vulnerable. Especially for this person.”

Nanami looked between them, feeling a mix of gratitude and frustration. “But what if my feelings could only cause more harm? What if being honest means jeopardizing their well-being? I know it will.”

Gojo shook his head, a small smile forming. “Sometimes, it’s not about whether your feelings will cause harm. It’s about being true to yourself and giving yourself the chance to experience what you deserve. Love isn’t always straightforward, and it’s not always fair. But it’s part of the human experience. Acted on or not, it’s what it is, isn’t it?”

Shoko reached out, placing a comforting hand on Nanami’s shoulder. “You’ve done so much for others. It’s time to think about yourself too. It’s okay to be vulnerable, to let yourself feel and to hope for something more, even if it feels unattainable.”

Nanami’s gaze softened, and he looked down at his hands, the weight of their words sinking in. “I’ve been so focused on protecting them, on making sure they don’t suffer because of me. I didn’t realize how much I’ve neglected my own needs.”

Gojo smiled, his tone light but encouraging. “We all have our struggles. It’s part of being human. Just remember, you’re not alone in this. You have friends who care about you, who want you to be happy.”

Shoko gave him a reassuring nod. “And it’s okay to take steps towards finding your own happiness, even if it means confronting difficult feelings. Even if you don’t think it will be reality. You deserve a chance to experience love, just as much as anyone else.”

Nanami took a deep breath, feeling a mixture of relief and apprehension. “Thank you. It’s good to hear that. I’ve been so focused on the right thing to do that I forgot about what I need.”

Nanami had been immersed in his work that day, focusing on grading papers and preparing for upcoming lectures. He had anticipated a quiet day, free from the usual flurry of students and administrative tasks. It was your day off from school—a rare break for you to focus on your thesis, and he had expected you to be busy with your academic responsibilities.

Yet, as the hours ticked by, Nanami couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off. He had noticed a subtle change in your demeanor over the past week, an undercurrent of sadness that was difficult to ignore. He had hoped you’d find solace in your time away from school, but now, the thought of you potentially seeking him out was unsettling.

When he heard the knock on his office door, he glanced up with a mixture of curiosity and concern. He wasn’t expecting you to be here today, not when you had so much on your plate. The sound of the knock was soft but persistent, and it made him pause, his thoughts drifting from his work to the possibility of seeing you.

You stood outside his office, your heart pounding with a mix of anxiety and determination. The past week had been particularly rough—filled with long nights and overwhelming emotions. The weight of your feelings for Nanami, combined with the challenge of coming to terms with them, had left you feeling both vulnerable and resolute. You had been wrestling with your emotions, trying to find a way to move forward, but it was proving more difficult than you had anticipated.

The hallway was quiet, the soft hum of the air conditioning the only sound that accompanied your thoughts. You had wrestled with the decision to come here, weighing the need for closure against the fear of complicating things further. Yet, the idea of not expressing your feelings and finding some resolution gnawed at you, making it hard to focus on anything else.

Taking a deep breath, you decided to face the uncertainty head-on. You lifted your hand and knocked again, this time with more resolve. The sound echoed through the hallway, signaling your intent to have a conversation that had been on your mind for days.

Inside the office, Nanami’s thoughts were interrupted by the knock. He stood up, smoothing his jacket, and approached the door. When he opened it, he was met with the sight of you standing there, looking both determined and apprehensive.

“Is everything alright?” he asked, trying to keep his voice calm despite the surprise and concern he felt.

You looked up at him, a mix of anxiety and resolve in your eyes. “I didn’t mean to intrude. I know it’s my day off, but… I needed to talk to you.”

Nanami stepped aside, gesturing for you to enter. “Of course. Come in.”

You entered his office, feeling the comforting, yet intimidating, presence of the space that had been a backdrop to many of your interactions. The room was orderly, with neatly arranged papers and a sense of calm that contrasted with the storm of emotions you were feeling.

As you settled into a chair, Nanami took his place behind his desk, his gaze steady and attentive. “What’s on your mind?”

You took a moment to gather your thoughts, feeling the weight of your emotions pressing against your resolve. “I’ve been struggling with my feelings for you. It’s been difficult to process, and I realized that I need some closure. I thought it might help if I talked to you about it.”

Nanami listened, his expression a mix of empathy and sadness. He had been preparing for this conversation, though not in the way he had hoped. The feelings he had tried so hard to suppress now seemed to rise to the surface, as he saw the vulnerability in your eyes.

“It’s not easy to hear.” Nanami said softly, his voice barely above a whisper. “And it’s even harder to find the right words. I’ve been trying to navigate this situation carefully, but I realize now that you deserve more than just silence.”

You looked up at him, finding his smile to be tinged with a deep sadness that made your heart ache. Nanami crossed his arms, his gaze meeting yours with a weight of unspoken emotions. 

“Most of all, my little one….” he continued, his voice steady but filled with a profound melancholy. “You deserve better than an old, unpassionate man like me.”

The words hung in the air between you, a painful truth that cut through the space. His admission, though gentle, was laced with a somber acknowledgment of the reality that had become so clear. It was as if he was trying to shield you from the hurt of unfulfilled expectations while grappling with his own feelings of inadequacy.

You could see the strain in his eyes, the conflict of wanting to comfort you while also maintaining the boundaries he felt were necessary. It was a moment of raw honesty, one that left you with a deep sense of both empathy and sorrow.

The room seemed to hold its breath as Nanami's words settled between you. His gaze remained steady, but there was an undeniable vulnerability in his eyes, a silent acknowledgment of the complexities that had become apparent.

You swallowed hard, the weight of his confession pressing heavily on you. “I didn’t come here expecting an easy answer, or my feelings to be returned, sensei.” you said softly, trying to steady your voice. “I just needed to express what I’ve been feeling and to understand where we stand.”

Nanami nodded, his expression a mixture of relief and sadness. “I appreciate your courage in coming forward. It’s not easy to confront these feelings, especially when the outcome is uncertain.”

There was a pause as you both took a moment to absorb the gravity of the conversation. Nanami leaned forward slightly, his hands resting on the desk as if trying to ground himself in the face of his emotions. 

“I want you to know that my feelings for you are genuine. Even if they're not what should be. But I also understand that the situation we’re in is far from ideal. It’s not just about what I want but what’s best for you. What you need matters more than what I want.”

You took a deep breath, feeling the tears you had been holding back threatening to spill. “I understand. I really do. It’s just… hard to accept that something so strong and real can’t find a way to work out.”

Nanami’s gaze softened, and he reached out, resting his hand gently on top of yours. The contact was brief but comforting, a silent gesture of support and understanding. 

“It’s difficult, and it’s painful. But sometimes, love means making choices that are hard and painful for the sake of someone else’s well–being. Love is letting go, too. And I believe that’s what I need to do now. Because if my love for you is true, then I would let you go. And let you live a life that you deserve, hm?”

You nodded, feeling the sting of his words but also the clarity they brought. “Thank you for being honest with me. I guess I needed to hear this, to understand where we really stand. To…to have closure.”

Nanami offered a sad smile, one that seemed to carry the weight of his own regrets and hopes for you. “I hope you find someone who can truly cherish you for who you are. You deserve someone who can give you the kind of love and support that I might not be able to offer.”

The finality of his words hung in the air, and you could sense the depth of his feelings—both for you and the situation you found yourselves in. As you stood up to leave, you felt a sense of bittersweet closure, a recognition of the reality that had to be faced.

“Take care of yourself, little one.” Nanami said softly as you made your way to the door. ”I hope you'll always be happy."

You offered him a small, grateful smile, a mixture of sadness and appreciation in your eyes. “Thank you, Nanami–sensei. I’ll keep that in mind.”

As you stepped out of his office, the weight of the conversation settled heavily on your shoulders. But along with the heaviness, there was also a sense of resolution. You had faced your feelings head-on, and though the outcome wasn’t what you had hoped for, you felt a renewed sense of clarity and a readiness to move forward.

Nanami Kento watched you go, his heart heavy but his mind clear. He hoped, more than anything, that you would find the happiness and love that you deserved, even if it was not with him. He'd have to leave soon. He thinks that it would be better, if he keeps his distance from now on. You do not need him anymore. And that's for the best.

And as the door closed behind you, he allowed himself a moment of reflection, grappling with the bittersweet nature of his own emotions and the hope that, in time, both of you would find a path that led to fulfillment and peace.

[r0-boat]

Yessssss I lOvE your headcanons about the 2 unreleased kings 😋 must be because I love dark headcanons.... (and that in Abbadon is something couldn't miss out 😈)

But can you do some moreeee? 🥺 Like about the headcanons about interactions between kings perhaps (seven kings---!!!!) Or maybe between kings and MC pls 😚 I kinda crave for some dark contents right now (cus when I first play WHB, I already expect this 👀)

Only if you're fine with this request, and jusst ignore it if you don't okie 😘

Oh my God interactions with the Kings hshshs

I mostly just have really stupid headcanons about those guys interacting but I got some dark ones

Dark!whb King headcanons

speculation for asmodeus and belphegor(I'm writing these two before they come out)

Cw: yandere, murder, drugging/drugs, death, cannibalism, sexual slavery mentions of being sold off, most of this shit is just talking about a black market shcsdgj. This shit is dark dead dove do not eat

Disclaimer: I do not condone anything I write This is purely for fantasy written by adults for adults only!

Belphegor and asmodeus has been fully released here's the update

Links to little asks about people's questions

Question one about Satan's desires

Question two on Mammon

Satan

I don't think we talk about Satan's depression as much as we should have. What I feel like you would think himself as a wrathful monster unable to control his wrath, sometimes he would have depressive episodes where his personality is a completely 180. He's just as angry at himself as he is at everyone else.

The first time you've witnessed this depressive episode is when he accidentally struck you and made you bleed. His whole body starts shaking as he began to break down He tore apart his room and started crying and took weeks for him to calm down.

The reason why his subordinates are okay with him taking out his anger and physically hurting them is because if he doesn't have an outlet he'll take out it on himself.

Satan is dependent on you for his emotional needs. He loves you, and he needs you; please do not leave him.

Satan is definitely holding back a lot of his dark thoughts because he doesn't want to hurt you, and he doesn't know how much longer he can hold back these darker desires. Normally he tells you everything, but he doesn't want to scare you. He wants you to like him.

Leviathan

Leviathan is a budding yandere, He already stalks you. Trying to keep his obsessive thoughts underneath a layer of hatred. That hatred mixing into more obsession. Of course he wants you to love him, but he also wants to be hated by you just as much as he is loved because it gets him on your mind. And that's really all he wants. It doesn't matter if he makes you hate him. As long as you're thinking about him he is okay with that.

Because of his abuse as a child from angels I would not doubt he wouldn't know how to normally show affection.

He has killed another devil for you. And he will gladly do it again. He sends the heads of lower rank devils that you dare show a smile too under the name "You're admirer" isn't he so romantic.

Leviathan only tolerates the kings being around you because chilling one of them or they're subordinates would start a war. So to have you he must use sneakier tactics.

Beelzebub

He has a fantasy where he roofies you at a bar and takes you home with him. Whenever you go to the bathroom thinking that Your drink is safe with him, He stares blankly into the glass, thoughts swirling with mental images of your nice loopy giggly self being laid on his bed.

Angels taste like chicken, humans taste like beef, demons taste like pork. Humans so far is his favorite. Humanoid meat especially humans are delicacy and highly illegal in the Tartaros black market. A delicacy He has been recently craving.

If he ever dies he wants his last meal to be you after he fucks you of course.

Levi gives the bodies of the devils he has killed too Beel to eat.

Beel definitely does drugs He's mostly immune now... He hates that Adderall doesn't affect him the same as the others.

Mammon

Tartaros is home to the rich and the very powerful. They hold grandiose special parties where the wealthy gather. Of course Mammon attends these parties. These demons see you as a pretty little exotic pet unknowing that Mammon is the pet and you are the master. And these same demons frequently talk about how they would buy you at any price, talking about your body as if you are a piece of meat and a prize to be bought and sold. Sadly you are not for sale.

As the demon of greed flaunting is his specialty And he has definitely thought about telling you up and all his gold and jewels to bring you to one of these parties to show you off. As a message saying 'This is something you cannot have.

Mammon knows of the Tartaros Black market and he turns a blind eye, but he will gladly do something if you tell him to. Or if belphie gets off his ass and strong arms him.

Giving him a little more because getting asked for it: Mammon doesn't do shit about the black market because He owns part of it and he practically created it. This man runs his kingdom like a mafia and he is a mob boss. Shady dealings to other kingdoms smuggling goods anything for More money and greater goods.

Lucifer

Has purchased a human corpse from the same black market for scientific purposes he swears up and down.

He slowly corrupting himself He beats himself up over it but at the same time he kind of likes it.

"hey can I cut you open and look at your organs? No? Oh okay..."

Lucifer because of his past as an angel suddenly gets urges to kill you. They have gone down over time since his transformation as a devil but he really shouldn't be getting this hard over thoughts of putting his hands around your neck.

Makes aphrodisiacs as a paid commission for asmodeus. And asks you to test the drugs.

If you ever die he wants to keep your beautiful eyes.

Your blood is a beautiful drug like sweet wine. He's obsessed with the taste

Belphegor

Belphegor and his superpower of a kingdom are the only reason why the Kings actually give a damn about their laws. Nifleheim is a strong powerhouse and a great enemy to those who don't want to make one of them.

However, Belphegor isn't all justice and the law and order in fact far from that. He is the law whatever he wants he can bypass it and everyone will turn a blind eye. If you were ever sold by Mammon to the highest bidder Belphegor would be your buyer.

Grand spectacles of public executions are very popular thing in Nifleheim(Belphie Danganronpa fan)

The real horror is that belphie invest in cryptocurrency and has an NFT/j

Belphie is also completely dependent on you and he will make you stay any way necessary.

Belphie only hasn't cracked down on the others harder as he should is because he doesn't give a fuck what happens in other kingdoms if it is in his own.

Belphie thinks Asmodeus is a disgusting freak. Leviathan is an amateur to him. Satan and belphie would get along pretty well I think they would be FPS partners.

Asmodeus

All of hell's most heinous devils come here because the laws are so lax. You're wondering why this kingdom hasn't fall to complete anarchy... Apparently getting you addicted on sex and then withholding it as a punishment is surprisingly very effective.

Asmodeus would love to have you but hasn't invite you yet because... Well if your kingdom is filled with half trained rabid dogs and you throw a nice fine steak inside.... Yeahhh.

Asmodeus is actually a pretty nice dude, He's very calm, polite and chivalrous. Which makes you wonder how much of that is a mask. Something you'll never know.

Asmodeus has a harem I think that goes without saying. And he talks greatly about adding you to that harem and how you would be his favorite~

It's no secret that I think humans are a very sexualized being in hell. Asmodeus is one of the demons with a huge human kink. Humans in his eyes are still primal animals which is part of their biggest appeal to him.

Asmodeus thinks belphie has a stick up his ass and he needs to loosen the fuck up

[peachsukii]

bf!Bakugo comforts you (fem!reader) while you're in a vulnerable state. 『 ♡ - k.bakugo x fem!reader 』 tw/cw: 18+ themes | depression/intrusive thoughts, sex (but not smutty) ⋆ ˚ʚɞ — This thought just soared into my head and I needed the comfort because damn, it sucks when this happens. -`✧ katsuki bakugo masterlist 

There it was.

That familiar numbing feeling.

It followed you wherever you went, waiting idly in the shadows of your mind for the moment to strike. You could control it from time to time, sure, but that didn't mean it wasn't able to act against your will in the blink of an eye.

You shouldn't be spacing out right now, lost in the bottomless abyss of empty thoughts. You need to be present and not watching yourself from the outside - the intrusive droning voice in your head repeating negative commentary on an endless loop as a distraction.

It's as if you can feel the light drain from your eyes like water running down a drain. The chemical reaction in your body fights to keep you engaged in life, fighting an endless war with your inner demons. It was exhausting, especially when you didn’t have a reason to pin the blame on.

A gentle touch to your cheek drags you back into your body, a faint gleam returning to your dulled irises.

"Y'okay, peach?" Katsuki asks, eyes aflame with affection and sweat glistening through the blonde strands on his forehead.

The embarrassment that floods your body is fierce and settles in your nerves. You bite your lip, desperately holding back the tears that threaten to stain your cheeks.

His body was sweltering hot against you, chest heaving in tandem with your own. Katsuki slows his pace to a pause, gazing down upon the flush spreading over your body.

“Hey, ‘s okay, baby,” he whispers, leaning into the crook of your neck to plant multiple soft kisses to your skin.

“Do you want to stop? We can stop.”

“N-no, sorry,” you say meekly. “I’m okay.”

You weren’t, and Katsuki knew that. He can tell by your mannerisms and the touch of your fingers aimlessly roaming his back. You’d been a space case since coming home from work earlier in the evening. He was shocked when you asked for sex in the first place, but obliged after your insistence that you were okay.

“Really, it’s not a problem if you wanna stop.”

“Please don’t. I need you,” is all you can manage to say before choking back a sob. You needed him to fill you with a warmth only he could offer, stoke the fire inside of you to bring light to the darkness fogging your brain.

Katsuki cradles your cheek in his palm for a second time, thumbing away a stray tear as it falls from the corner of your eye. It pains him to see you struggle with these things because he didn’t quite understand it, but he did his damndest to give you what he could to help. Whatever you needed, he was more than willing to give if it meant getting to see your radiant smile.

“Okay, just keep your eyes on me, baby. I’ve got ya.”

Katsuki’s voice makes the butterflies in your stomach return, violently fluttering at his words of encouragement. You follow his praise, focusing on all of the tender devotion he’s serving to you - the sensual tempo of his thrusts, how he lowers his body to meld the two of you together as one, the delicate ways he touches your skin. All of it, and all of him, release the demons you clung to moments prior.

Your soft sobs evolving into hushed gasps fuel his desire, assuring him that you are no longer occupied by the looming clouds swirling in your head.

“I love you,” Katsuki sighs into your ear, breathless as his rhythm quickens. “So goddamn much.”

Your hands are clamoring to his hair, grasping at the roots as you squirm beneath his hold. He swoops down to steal your lips, swiping his tongue along your bottom lip to beg you to invite him into your mouth. And you do, letting him consume you in a passionate kiss as you feel your body tense, the fire in your core ready to explode. Your moans entangle in each other's mouths as you simultaneously reach your limit together, orgasms wracking your bodies collectively.

Katsuki breaks your kiss, panting with swollen lips as he pushes his hand through your bangs, separating the wisps of hair to place a kiss to your forehead. He kisses your lips again briefly before nuzzling into your neck.

"I love you, too. Thank you," you say, monotonously dragging your nails on his scalp in your blissful state. He shivers at the sensation, growing sleepier by the minute.

"Sweets, I gotta clean up before we sleep," he protests, struggling to gather enough energy to do so.

You smile into his hair. "Aw Kats, just one more minute, please."

Katsuki doesn't budge, accepting his fate as his eyes flutter closed.

"Fine, just because y'asked nicely."

[steddiehyperfixation]

don't you forget about me (part six)

(part one)(part two)(part three)(part four)(part five)

Steve allows himself a brief mental breakdown in the shower when he gets home. He lets the water mix with his tears as he curls his arms around himself and wishes with everything he is that they were Eddie’s. There’s nothing he wouldn’t give right now just to be held by him again, just to feel Eddie’s arms around him one more time. All it took was a tiny kiss on the back of his hand for Steve’s skin to remember just how much it missed that feeling. Now Steve’s entire body craves Eddie’s touch, and he shakes in its absence like an addict in withdrawal. 

Then he puts himself back together, gets dressed and styles his hair and heads off to work. 

They’d defeated Vecna before he could split the world into pieces or whatever his diabolical plan had been. So while Steve’s whole world may have been torn apart, while Steve’s whole world lays bruised and bandaged and amnesic in a hospital bed, the rest of the world carries on none the wiser. The rest of the world still rents VHS tapes and has movie nights and date nights and no fucking clue that they were seconds away from being dragged down into a hell dimension a couple weeks ago, so Family Video is still open for them. Fuck that. 

“You’ve gotta handle the customers today because if someone starts asking me stupid questions I can’t promise I won’t snap at them,” Steve tells Robin as he drives them to their shift. 

“Aw, but it’s so funny when you snap at them,” Robin quips. 

“Robin.” He gives her his best I’m so fucking serious look. 

Her humor dries up immediately and she nods solemnly. “Alright, yeah. I got it.” 

Steve sighs, pulling into the parking lot. “Thank you.” 

He busies himself with cataloging and reshelving and rewinding returns while Robin takes over the customer service part of the job. It’s mindless - mind-numbing - the monotony of the tasks exactly what Steve needs to dull out the thoughts in his brain and distract himself from the way the back of his hand still tingles from Eddie’s kiss. 

When the afternoon rush dies down after a few hours and the store is all but empty, Robin sidles up next to him where he’s putting away a stack of fantasy films. “Hey.” 

Her voice cuts through his focus and nearly startles Steve out of his skin. “Jesus! Don’t sneak up on me like that.” 

“Sorry.” She grabs half the stack of tapes and starts helping him shelve. “Just wanted to check in with you, we haven’t gotten much of a chance to talk today. How are things going with Eddie?” 

“It’s fine. He’s fine,” Steve grumbles, glaring down at the tape in his hands. It’s got a dragon on the cover. He thinks Eddie would probably like it. “He still doesn’t remember me, but he’s starting to see me as a friend now at least, so.” Steve shoves the movie into its spot on the shelf. “That’s something, right?” 

Robin raises her eyebrows at the sharp bitterness in his tone and how forcefully he put the tape away. “Okay. Yeah. So I see we’re in the anger stage of grief now,” she comments. 

Steve scoffs. If this is a stage of grief, he thinks he’s been going through them in the wrong order, or maybe all at once - a neverending ebb and flow of denial and anger and depression all swirled together into one fucked up cocktail of grief. “I’m not angry,” he says, rubbing his hands over his face. “I’m just tired- emotionally burnt out, I don’t know. I just miss him and it’s not fair and I’m so fucking sick of feeling like this.” 

“Yeah, that’s anger, Steve,” Robin says, infuriatingly blunt. She slides the last tape in her stack into its place and then leans against the shelf. “Did something else happen to set this off, or are you just generally overwhelmed?” 

Steve sags against the shelf beside her. “Both. I don’t know. It’s stupid, it’s so fucking stupid. He just- he kissed my hand this morning, that’s it, and it wrecked me.” 

“He what?” Robin questions, curiosity widening her eyes. 

“He kissed my hand,” Steve repeats. He sighs and adds context, gives her a full recount of the events of that morning.

“Oh my god?!” Robin practically squawks as she backhands Steve’s arm, which is definitely not the comforting words or touch he needs from her right now. 

“Ow!” he yelps, rubbing his arm. “What the hell was that for?” 

“Dude. He was flirting with you,” she tells him, eyes even wider now like she’s trying to explain to him something obvious. 

“What? No.” Steve shakes his head, looking at her like she’s crazy. “He definitely wasn’t.” 

“Ughhh,” Robin lets out a long, dramatic groan, dragging her hands down her cheeks and pulling down her eyes. “I cannot do this with you two again. He totally was.” She drops her hands from her face so she can use them to illustrate her point as she starts to lists off, “First of all, he literally called you daddy-” 

“As a joke,” Steve interrupts to protest. 

“Yeah, a flirtatious one,” Robin retorts. She continues, “Then he said you have a magic touch, and then his heart literally started racing for no reason-”

“Because I was stressing him out!” 

“Only after his heart rate went up in the first place, which, as I was saying, was for no reason other than the fact that you were smiling at him and holding his hand-” 

“That literally doesn’t-” 

“And then, he kissed your hand - pressed his lips to your skin - and told you that you were his good luck charm,” Robin finishes, looking smug like she’s said something novel and not just completely reiterated exactly what Steve had just told her only with more emphasis. 

He sighs wearily. “Your point?” 

“He likes you, dingus,” she says, whacking his arm again. “Don’t you get it? His mind may not remember still, but his heart is starting to.”

Steve doesn’t know what to do with that. A lump rises in his throat, a rush of jumbled emotions chafing against his already frayed edges. “Don’t say that. You don’t know that.”

“I think you should tell him what you were to each other,” Robin suggests. 

“Right, yeah, okay, sure,” Steve scoffs, somewhere between sarcastic and hysterical. “And while we’re at it, I think you should tell Vickie that you like her. Because telling people things like that is so easy, isn’t it?” 

Robin gives him a withering stare. “That is not the same thing at all, and you know it.”

“No, yeah, you’re right,” he agrees. “Because I know Eddie, and he would not take that news well. He already gets a little weird whenever I seem to know too much about him - if I tell him I know him biblically too-” 

“Ew, don’t tell him like that!” 

“Doesn’t matter if I tell him like that; I say we’ve been together for 9 months, he’s going to assume we’ve-” 

“God, okay, I get it!”

“See? It would freak him out,” Steve concludes, crossing his arms. “Even if he does…like me again or whatever, he definitely wouldn’t anymore and it would just generally make him uncomfortable. So I can’t tell him. I just have to keep waiting for him to remember on his own, even though it’s fucking killing me,” he says, his voice harsh as he tries to keep it from breaking. “It’s what’s best for Eddie.” 

“Steve-” Robin starts, frowning like she’s only just beginning to realize she may have pushed him too far, but whatever it is she was going to say is cut off by the ringing of the bell that announces the front door being open. 

“Customers.” Steve points his chin towards the couple who just walked in, a bitter jealousy boiling in his stomach as he watches them walk hand in hand towards the romance aisle. It’s not fucking fair. He shoves himself away from the shelves and mutters, “I’m taking my break.”

He stalks to the breakroom, closes the door, and sinks to the floor with his back against it. The tears in his eyes feel like they’re made of acid, like they would carve tracks into his skin if they were to spill down his cheeks. He wraps his arms around himself again. The thoughts in his head are made of acid too, bitter and burning and cursing everyone who gets to enjoy their lover's touch while he suffers without his. 

Steve’s brain feels corroded, corrupted. “He likes you,” Robin’s words echo there too, “his mind may not remember still, but his heart is starting to.” Would Eddie touch him now if he asked? Would he trace his fingers across Steve’s skin, kiss more than just the back of his hand? Steve digs his own fingers into his sides. He feels gross, he feels rotten. It wouldn’t be right to ask that of Eddie without him knowing the truth, to take advantage of him like that. It wouldn’t be the same, anyways. The superficial touch of a boy with the beginnings of a crush is not the tender lover’s caress that Steve craves. 

That is if Robin is even right about Eddie redeveloping feelings. Which she probably isn’t.

Steve’s just being stupid and selfish again. He wants to remove his brain from his skull so he can stop thinking, tear his heart from his chest so he can stop feeling; both so burned and decayed he thinks if he held them in his hands they would dissolve and crumble to dust and ash and sludge between his fingers. 

Fifteen minutes pass, and Steve forces himself to be fine. He peels himself off the breakroom floor and returns to work, continues the tedious tasks that he hopes will numb him out again. 

Robin catches his eye from across the room where she’s sorting a customer’s cash at the register. I’m sorry, her expression says, I didn’t mean to make you upset. 

Steve gives a tiny shake of his head and a small smile. It’s okay. It wasn’t your fault, his own expression reassures her. You meant well. I’m not mad at you. 

They don’t talk about Eddie again that day. The next time there’s a lull in customers and they’re able to chat again, Steve tells Robin he honestly just needs a distraction right now, and he lets her ramble on about Vickie and band and school and her impending graduation and the movie she watched last night and whatever other random thoughts are bouncing around that hyperactive head of hers. Her voice fills in the cracks in Steve’s brain, keeps it from falling apart completely. She’s always been good at that, and he’s grateful for it. 

Then he drops Robin off after work and he drives away alone in silence because all the songs on the radio are love songs, and he drives back to the hospital - back to the source of his grief again and again like some sort of fucking masochist - because Eddie needs him. Because Steve loves him.

~

Eddie cannot help the way his face all but beams the second Steve walks back into his room that evening. “There you are, Stevie! How was work?”

Steve returns the smile, genuine, but there’s a tiredness to it. “It was alright. Bit boring, really, uneventful. How are you doing?” 

“I’m good,” Eddie says, adding with a jaunty grin, “All the better now that you’re back.” 

It comes out a bit more flirtatious than he intended, but thankfully Steve just laughs it off. “Alright, smoothtalker,” he scoffs through a chuckle as he takes his usual seat by the bed. “It’s nice to see you again too.”

“Oh, the actual doctor came in to talk to me today. Good news, don’t worry,” Eddie tells him, the last bit tacked on quickly before that concerned crease can appear between Steve’s brows. “She says I’m healing up nicely, and I might be able to be discharged soon. A few more days’ observation and then they're gonna see how well I can actually move since, you know, the bats chewed through half the muscles in one of my legs. But, yeah, I could be out of here by the end of next week.” 

“That’s great, Eddie!” Steve brightens. 

“Yeah.” Eddie smiles. “I can’t wait to be somewhere familiar, feel normal again. Or, well,” he amends, smile falling a little as he realizes, “as normal as I can feel given that I’ll probably be walking with a limp for the rest of my life and be covered in nasty scars all over.” 

A strange expression crosses Steve’s face then, something happy and sad and sympathetic all at once, and his voice is soft as he says, “We’ll match.” 

Eddie blinks at him. “What?”

“The scars,” Steve clarifies. “The bats got me too, you know. I was lucky, it wasn’t as bad for me as it was for you, but, uh- yeah, we’ll match. See?” He stands and pulls his shirt up a bit. 

Eddie’s heart rate immediately kicks up again, blood growing warm, as his eyes snap to Steve’s stomach, to skin and muscle and body hair and- oh. Two giant, jagged red scabs cover Steve’s sides, the edges fading into skin bumpy and pink and white with the beginnings of scarring. The bite on Eddie’s own side twinges in sympathy. “That’s-” He swallows back the word hot, and breathes out instead, “Holy shit.” Without really thinking, he finds himself reaching out to skim his fingers over the ridges of Steve’s scars. 

Steve gasps - full body shudders - at the touch, and Eddie instantly pulls his hand back, afraid he’s hurt him. “Sorry,” he mutters.

“No, it’s fine,” Steve manages, though it sounds a bit shaky. “You didn’t hurt me, I just- I wasn’t expecting it.” 

Eddie tentatively starts to reach back out; Steve nods. He slowly traces the outline of the wound again, every uneven edge, feeling the evidence of hurt and the evidence of healing and the ripple of each breath Steve takes - breaths that echo in the quiet that falls between them. Eddie doesn’t realize just how intimate this silence has become as he runs his hands across Steve’s skin, until he glances up to find Steve just…watching him. It’s impossible to tell exactly what emotion is behind his eyes, but it’s intense and it’s devastating, and Eddie suddenly feels like he can’t breathe. 

“Uh-” A nervous laugh stutters out of him. He rescinds his touch. “Twin scars, huh?” he remarks, cracking a crooked smile and attempting to change this strange, suffocating energy with a joke. “Hell of a matching tattoo. Next time let’s just exchange friendship bracelets like normal people do, yeah?”

Steve huffs, a short burst of laughter that escapes from his chest like it’s been punched out of him. “Since when have you ever done anything like a normal person?” he teases in return as he pulls his shirt back down.

Just like that, blown away by Steve’s playful smile, the weird tension lifts. Eddie grins back. “Alright, fair point.” He adds, “Those are gonna be some pretty metal scars, Stevie.”

“Not as metal as yours,” Steve says warmly, settling back in his chair and kicking one leg over the other. “You’re the one that literally survived death, Ed. It doesn’t get any more metal than that.” 

“Now who’s the smoothtalker?” Eddie smirks, and he hopes he isn’t blushing. Steve Harrington calling him metal with so much pride and affection in his voice is doing numbers on his heart. Curse this stupid fucking crush.

Steve eyes divert briefly to the heart monitor, which has not once calmed down since the second he’d lifted up his shirt, and Eddie is so sure that he knows then, that he’s finally made the connection between what’s got Eddie’s heart racing, but he doesn’t say anything, just laughs it off again, smiling like everything’s completely normal as he looks back at Eddie and rolls his eyes and mutters in return, “Shut up.” 

“Make me,” Eddie mumbles, not quick enough to bite back the words before they fall from his mouth, only managing to lower his voice enough that maybe Steve didn’t hear him. 

“What?” 

“TV?” Eddie grabs the remote, pretends like that’s what he’d said in the first place. Real smooth. 

“Oh, sure.” Steve shrugs. If he noticed Eddie’s slip, he gives no indication of it. 

Eddie turns on the TV and they spend the next hour or so laughing and making fun of the bad acting on the show that’s playing. Easy, normal, platonic. Eddie’s heart rate stabilizes, remaining even so long as he doesn’t look too long at Steve’s smile. 

When sleep starts lapping at Eddie’s consciousness, he doesn’t fear it anymore. Silently, he holds out his hand, and Steve takes it, wrapping him in the warmth and protection that allows Eddie to let himself drift off undaunted. 

And in his dreams his hands skate across Steve’s skin again.

(part seven)

taglist (CLOSED): @romanticdestruction @daydreamsandcrashingwaves @paintsplatteredandimperfect @hallucinatedjosten @mugloversonly @estrellami-1 @alongcomesaspider @thatonebadideapanda @tell-me-a-secret-a-nice-one @dragonmama76 @wxrmland @nuggies4life @sirsnacksalot @myguiltyartpleasure @lolawonsstuff @marklee-blackmore @vinteraltus @sebastiansstanswhore @0happyeverafter0 @scarlet-malfoy @hotluncheddie @xxfiction-is-my-realityxx @emsgoodthinkin @alyelf @warlordess @stevesbipanic @lil-gremlin-things @rockandrolodex @badcaseofcasey @bat-outta-hel @fandomcartographer @manda-panda-monium @littlewildflowerkitten @giopandaonice @mightbeasleep @queenie-ofthe-void @krazyperson @worldofshea @marvel-ous-m @tartarusknight @a-little-unsteddie @xenon-demon @goodolefashionedloverboi @xxsky-shockxx @mc-i-r @bookbinderbitch @aspenshade88 @slowandsteddie @thedragonsaunt @daydreaming-mood @space-invading-pigeon @irregular-child @a-lovely-craziness (taglist continued in replies; please lmk if you'd like to be removed from this list. if you didn't make the taglist but still wanna follow along, you can follow the tag #dyfamsteddiefic to keep up with new updates!)

[wynnyfryd]

Trailer park Steve AU part 23

part 1 | part 22 | ao3

cw: alcohol, recreational drinking

Steve fusses with his hair in the side mirror again, tugging awkwardly at his borrowed clothes. He feels stupid, standing here fidgeting in the parking lot like some kind of nervous freshman, but half of Hawkins seems to be here tonight and Robin’s got him dressed like a loser — worn green flannel and a ripped black tee with a faded picture of The Smiths. Jesus. “Did you really have to dress me like this?” 

“What? You look cute!” 

“I look like I raided Jonathan Byers’ closet.”

“No, you look like someone a certain neighbor is going to be drooling over all night.” Steve’s grateful for the dark then; for the blush it hides on his cheeks. “It’s not my fault you don't know how to make a deal; if you wanted to borrow a specific shirt, you should have said so before we shook on it.”

“Besides,” she ignores him when he rolls his eyes at her, “you wouldn’t even let me smudge eyeliner on your lower lash line like I wanted to, so I really don't feel like you’ve earned complaining privileges.” 

“I’ll complain if I fucking want to,” he grumbles under his breath. He runs a hand through his hair one more time, then forces himself to look away from the mirror. Rolls his shoulders back and down. “He’s not even here, anyway.”

“Ah-ha! So you did check.” She links their arms together, starts dragging Steve across the uneven gravel, her ankles wobbling in her low-heeled boots. “‘Just looking for a good parking spot,’ my ass. God, I’m always so right about everything. I'm, like, cosmically correct. I should really play the lottery next time I visit my grandparents..."

“Uh huh.” He’s not sure what luck and correctness have to do with each other, but sure.

She stumbles over a rock; pushes into his side, grinning, “I’m serious! I’ll play the lottery, and I’ll win big, and then you’ll see. Might even split my winnings with you if you’re nice to me.” 

“I’m literally so nice to you all the time, but okay. Can’t wait to take half your earnings when you get ten bucks off a scratcher.” 

“Hey, five bucks is five bucks! That’s like an hour and a half of our lives.”

Jesus Christ. “That’s just depressing.”

They walk arm and arm down the narrow footpath to the party — ferns brushing their calves, dry dirt beneath their shoes kicking up tiny clouds of dust — and as the path opens up Steve sees the place is packed. More packed than the overstuffed parking lot let on. There are people scattered over the picnic grounds in groups of fours and fives, a full dance floor under the main pavilion; a DJ set up at the front with food and drink stands to the side; a giant bowl of spiked punch; a tower of solo cups; a couple of coolers filled with beer.

In the surrounding grass he sees more tables, more people. A couple of guys he remembers from swim team rally around an arm wrestling match; another group plays beer pong on a brown fold-up table that they definitely stole from someone’s church. There's a circle of burnouts playing hacky sack behind a tree.

The bonfire burns brightly on the hillside in the distance, and beyond that he spots the faint glow of trail lights leading up to a bridge under the falls. 

Part of him wants to follow the trail. Shake Robin off, pretend like he’s going to take a leak. Find a nice rocky overhang to camp under for a while.

Listen to river sounds. Gentle slosh; cricket buzz.

Maybe he gets drunk up there alone. Maybe he just enjoys the solitude; lies on a rock on his belly by the icy river’s edge, swirls his hand in frigid water and doesn't dream of dark brown curls.

“Steve?” Robin nudges him. “You good?”

Another, much less annoying part of him reminds him that he’s Steve Goddamn Harrington. He knows how to have a good time at a party.

Who cares if he feels too old to be here, or if it’s weird to see so many faces that used to call him Captain or King? Who cares that he's one smudge of eyeliner away from looking like a full-blown new wave art freak?

He’s not about to slink off to do depressed weirdo wallflower shit when the DJ’s playing Wham!

“Yeah.” He squeezes her shoulder. “You want a drink?” 

“Yes, please.” 

—

The drinks are strong.

Steve’s pretty sure the punch bowl is a lot more hunch than punch, but there’s still no sign of Vickie, and Robin’s getting that sad little stress wrinkle between her brows about it, so Steve says bottoms up and starts chugging. 

They wince their way through two cups each. Robin plugs her nose on the second one like she’s about to do a high dive, and Steve laughs and takes her hand, leading her into the crowd just as Take on Me comes on. The lights all blur together as they shimmy and shake and twirl, moving like a couple of dorks, but Steve’s having a great time. Bobbing his head to the beat; a big, dumb grin on his face as he moves his hips. Robin shouts “Watch this!” over the music, and the next thing he knows they’re competing to see who can bust the worst dance move. 

He brings out all the big guns, the full-groan dad maneuvers.

The sprinkler, the lawn mower, the fucking disco finger. 

Robin answers with a sloppy attempt at the robot, so he makes up a new move he calls be kind, rewind, and she laughs like a horse and pretends to walk down a flight of stairs.

She’s crouched into a goofy lunge, two steps into the ascent back up, when the song fades out and a ballad takes over. The crowd presses in to slow dance; Robin steps on someone's toes.

“Hey, watch it!” the person hisses.

Robin startles hard; knocks herself off-balance when she tries to stand up straight, babbling, "Oh, my god, I'm so sorry! Are you- are you okay? I'm such a klutz, oh, my god, I'm—"

Steve snatches her up under the armpits; puts her back on her feet. Then he looks up and realizes who exactly she just stepped on. 

Well, shit.

—

part 24

tag list part 1 below the cut, let me know if you want me to add you tomorrow (21+ only, please confirm your age if you're asking to be tagged)

@a-little-unsteddie @ahsokatanoss @aliea82 @alyelf @anne-bennett-cosplayer @aol19 @awolfstudio @bambibiest @bananahoneycomb @bookbinderbitch @bronwenmarie @cheonsazu @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @courtjestermunson @cuips-not-cute @dauntlessdiva @dawners @dontwasteyourchances @eddie-munsons-missing-nipple @eriquin @estrellami-1 @fandomfix8 @gregre369 @griefabyss69 @grtwdsmwhr @hallucinatedjosten @hellion-child @hiimlevi @honoragreyskull @hotluncheddie @jackiemonroe5512 @kas-eddie-munson @kingelyx @lifeisacrisis @littlebluejane @marvel-ous-m @melonmochi @messrs-weasley @milklechee @mrsjellymunson @mugloversonly @munsonslure @nburkhardt @nerdyglassescheeseychick @notsopersonalcharlie @novelnovella @nuggies4life @phoenixtheone @questionablequeeries @runninriot

[jester-lover]

Boys Don't Cry

comforting your boy when he needs it the most (part 1)

cw- angst, fluff, hurt/comfort, body insecurities, mortality, discussions of depression, unbearably sweet

Riddle

Riddle tried to wipe his face with the edges of his bedspread, everything was going wrong. Ace and Deuce ruined his tea party, half of his guests didn’t show up, and he spilled tea all over himself. 

If his mother was here, she’d mock him for his emotion, his insolence and inability to keep his composure.

 His lower lip quivered, and he broke out into sobs again. 

The worst part of it all, however, was that you were there. You saw how he lost his temper and yelled at the freshmen, losing all of his gentlemanly composure.

He turned around and faced the long mirror against his dresser, his face was red and swollen with tears, and his nice new shirt was ruined. 

He felt like a fool.

Riddle got up out of bed, looking to go speak with Trey about further action, when he saw you standing in the doorway, a soft smile on your face. His tears bubbled up again.

“I’m so so s-sorry I didn’t mean for-”

You leaned in closer and wrapped your arms around his shoulders. His arms found their place against your waist.

“It’s okay, it wasn’t your fault, you have nothing to apologize for.”

His sobs were muffled by the shoulder of your shirt, as you kissed his hairline and rubbed his back.

“Let it all out Riddle, cry as much as you need to, I’ll be here.”

His tears quelled as your hands moved up to brush against his hair. His arms against your waist tightened.

Leona 

Leona looked out the big window in his room, he slowly undid the braids in his hair, taking deep unordered breaths.

His brother had sent a letter again, asking for him to return for a visit over summer. Deep down, Leona knew Farena had good intentions, but the idea of returning to the palace made bile rise up his throat. 

He reached for the hairbrush on his side, only to realize tears had begun blurring his vision. 

Leona couldn’t understand why he hated his brother, who had only been kind with him. Maybe it was the press constantly comparing the two of them, or the sense of inferiority he felt around him. Whatever it was, he didn’t care. He didn't want to see Farena, not when he’s finally beginning to feel content.

The tears began rolling down, and Leona wiped them off furiously. His hands were shaking and he dropped the brush back onto his bed. His shoulders shook too.

“Leona.”

His head snapped toward the door, you stood there, still and frowning. He just stared at you.

“Do you need some help with your hair?”

Leona nodded, his head down, hoping you wouldn't see the tear tracks on his face. You moved to kneel on the bed beside him, breath touching his ear. Slowly, you untangled the knots along his nape, slowly adjusting to move near his forehead, keeping your hand steady,as to not to catch a knot too fast. Leona continued to stare outside, into the falling sun. He was thinking again. 

Slowly, after you finished with his hair, you wrapped your arms around his still shoulders. He brought one of his hands to rub your arm, leaning back against your touch.

“You deserve more than this.”

His words have a sense of tiredness to them, like he’s been meaning to say them for a while.

“I’ve got everything I need, everything I could ever want.”

You can see his reflection in the glass, his smile.

Azul

The door of his office slammed shut, Azul looked at himself with disdain, breaking apart all the points of himself he didn’t like.

 The silence of his sanctuary helped him think back, to all those moments as a chubby little octopus. His thoughts turned to the stretch marks on his back and hips, and he went to go sit at his desk.

 Moments of self hatred had slowly dissipated as his career and reputation grew, but deep inside he knew he’d always be that little boy, crying his inky tears. 

He put his head in his hands. No tears came, only thoughts swirled around his head.

“Azul, would you like to help me solve this?”

You stood by the end of his desk, he didn't notice you come in, and he raised his head up to look at you. You held a small wood puzzle in your hand.

His stupid self hatred disappeared, and a feeling of warm fuzziness rose in his chest. His regular charisma returned.

“Of course I would.”

Vil

A crumpled mass of magazines littered the floor of Vil’s room, he was hunched over his vanity in a display that ashamed him. 

A new poll was entered into his favorite fashion magazine, pitting him and Neige against each other. 

Niege had won by a landslide.

Vil’s mascara ran down his cheeks, he wished you were there to comfort him, but you were busy doing whatever Crowley had planned for you. He was proud of your hard work of course, but as he desperately wiped his makeup away with cleanser, he knew he needed you by his side. 

knock knock

“U-um please wait a moment, I need to recuperate myself.”

The last thing he needed was an annoying freshman or nosy sophomore disrupting him.

“Vil, dear it's just me, could you please open the door?”

He rose out of his chair in a hurry, reaching for the door and pulling it open, quickly shutting it after you.

At this point his shoulders were heaving, and his breathing was uneven as his hands curled at his shirt, digging back into his palms. 

“Hey, hey Vil, it’s gonna be fine, it’ll all be fine.”

He reached for you quickly, pulling you against his chest, brushing his hands against your head, his other wrapped snugly around your waist. He was silent.

“What happened, Vil?”

He turned his red face towards you, grasping your face in his hands, and pressing your foreheads together until his breathing slowly turned normal again.

“I don’t know, maybe- maybe this was the final straw, I’ve just had a terrible week and now my runway shoot is delayed and I think they might drop me-”

His sobbing started up again, and he went back to hugging you, head pressed firmly into your shoulder. 

“I understand, Vil, feeling like the world is turning its back on you.”

Your fingers brushed his back, and his hands loosened.

“Around me, you're free to do whatever you need, I can never see you in a negative light.”

Vil beamed.

Idia

Idia felt himself weasel his head out of the thick bed sheets, his messy hair clearly not cared for. There was knocking on his door, and he quickly looked at the security cameras. 

It was you, looking as radiant as the sun. He looked down at his pajamas.

Slowly he opened the door, and you gave him a hug and littered kisses all over his face.

He turned a little red, and looked at the ground. By this point, he would have asked to play a game or watch an anime, but he was silent.

“Hey, Idia, are you okay? Is something wrong?”

He smiled a little at how quickly you could read his mood. Your hand moved up and grasped the side of his jaw.

“Don’t you ever want a more adventurous boyfriend?”

You looked at him with a puzzled look on your face, mouth slowly turning into a frown.

“I much prefer you, Idia.”

His face fell, tears beaded at his eyes as your second hand came up to cup his face.

Idia felt like a tall child.

“You could have anyone.”

His voice was quiet and still.

“But I only want you.”

Idia leaned down and pressed a kiss on your forehead.

Malleus

The cool night air kissed malleus’s skin as he waited for you to come out of Ramshackle. He watched you slip out of the door and come up to him, pressing a kiss against his hand. 

The only thing Malleus saw was the large bandage on your cheek. He grazed the spot with the back of his fingers.

“Child of man, what happened here?”

You laughed and grasped his hand. 

“I was walking through the forest looking for clean branches for the fireplace, and I tripped over a root.”

Malleus thought for a second, a fall of that nature wouldn't even phase him, he would probably not even fall in the first place with his natural grace.

For you however, such an incident would leave a permanent scar, he wouldn't like to think about what would have happened if you had hit your head, alone in those unforgiving woods.

Flashes of fear ran through his head, regarding your mortality and human clumsiness. 

He went quiet, even more than usual, and squeezed your hand.

Malleus knew that one day you’d leave him, grow older and slip through his fingertips like the wind. Normally he ignored such thoughts, choosing to spend every hour cherishing you, but now a sense of dread filled him and he felt weak to the power of natural order. Suddenly he turned around, giving you a firm hug around the shoulders. 

“Malleus, what’s up, are you okay?”

He kissed your head, leaning down to look at you.

“Do you ever think of your mortality?”

He could see the wires turn in your head, and you gave him a sweet smile.

“Sometimes, but then I remember how happy I am, spending all of my days with you.”

His eyes closed for a moment, before opening again.

“Your life is fickle, short, and the most valuable thing in my world.”

He parted from your embrace.

“I wish to make your life as enjoyable as possible, especially as you rule by my side.”

Malleus saw tears brimming in your eyes. He smiled.

“Your life will be spent laughing and smiling, but after it ends I will spend forever yearning for you.”

The tears fell as you leaned against him.

“I will love you until my last breath, Malleus.”

“And I will too, Child of Man.”

Sebek

“How annoying can he get?”

“Someone doesn't understand noise control.”

“Stay away from him, he’ll make your ears hurt.”

Sebek had grown used to ignoring the lingering words he heard in the halls, and he held his head up high. No matter how often he felt unimportant in human spaces, he knew he always had a place with you.

“Human! How did your classes go today?”

You smiled at him, grabbing his hand and walking alongside him.

“How can someone like them like someone like him? He’s insufferable.”

Sebek turned his head around, but whoever said it had already disappeared into the crowd of students.

He turned his head back in shame, something about being insulted around you made him feel insecure and upset.

“Whoever said that clearly hasn’t ever been passionate about anything.”

Sebek turned to look at you, he was quiet for once.

“Listen, no matter what anyone says about you, you have joy in your job in a way none of those idiots will ever feel.”

Sebek could feel his smile start to show again.

“Of course you think that! Any human would be glad to spend time with the retainer of the great Malleus Drac-”

AN/my sincere apologies to all the Kalim fans, I seriously couldn’t think of anything for him