#i tried to give him different eyes but it lost its charm so.

[carelessapples]

minish cap you will always be famous

[kayewrite]

Blue Sticky Note

straykids fic wherein a mysterious note confession appears in your binder. Unsure of who left it, you embark on an investigation among your eight close friends, each with their own quirks and possibilities.

genre: Fluff. and fluff

ot8 x reader! stray kids x reader!! word count: 3.3k

AN: i want to make a fic with multiple members in it but i might make more of it after i finished all individual members. btw can you teach me how tumblr works? i might pin a masterlist soon hehe

You just got back to your apartment after a long day of classes. Exhausted from wrestling with numbers and equations, you flopped down on your bed and closed your eyes.

But your moment of peace was interrupted by the sudden ringing of your phone.

“Hey,” your friend Seungmin’s voice greeted you through the speaker.

Used to how he always greeted you, you sighed and listened as he continued, your tiredness making it hard to focus.

“You didn’t turn in your literature assignment. I’m on my way to your building,” he said, causing you to bolt upright in surprise.

You had forgotten to give it to him during class earlier. Glad he reminded you. And you were glad to be friends with him because he was the class representative. You enjoyed a lot of benefits from being his friend.

“Okay, thanks for the reminder. No need to come up—I’ll meet you downstairs,” you replied before ending the call.

Grateful for Seungmin’s help, you quickly gathered your things and checked your binder for the assignment. You sighed in relief when you found it. “I thought I lost you.”

As you were about to close your binder, a flash of blue caught your eye. A blue sticky note on the front page—one that you definitely didn’t own.

You pulled it out and read the message, which made your heart skip a beat: “I like you. But i you only see me as a friend.”

It wasn’t the first time you’d received a confession, but this note felt different. There was a mystery to it that intrigued you.

Confusion swirled in your mind as you tried to piece together who might have left this note. The message was neatly written in capital letters, offering no clues about the writer's identity.

Who could it be?

You had a lot of friends, but who might have done this?

You had male friends, all of whom felt like brothers to you. Could it be one of them? But they were like family.

The note was a sweet but outdated way to confess—charming in its own way but not something you’d expect from anyone in particular. You read it again and again, hoping to find a hint about who it might be from. But aside from the neat handwriting on a blue sticky note, you found nothing.

Your thoughts were interrupted by the doorbell ringing. You immediately sprang out of bed, remembering Seungmin.

“I’m sorry,” you said, peeking through the door.

“It’s okay,��� he smiled reassuringly. “I know you were tired, so I decided to come up.”

“Oh, thanks,” you replied, quickly picking up some clothes that were strewn on the floor. You grabbed your assignment and saw the sticky note again, hastily hiding it by placing a book on top.

As you handed over your paper, you decided to test the waters, curious about who the note could be from. “Do you own any sticky notes?” you asked casually.

Seungmin’s brow furrowed in confusion. “Why?”

“I was taking notes and thought I might need some,” you said, trying to sound nonchalant.

“You have plenty already,” he said, gesturing to the stack of colorful sticky notes on your study table. “And no, I don’t have any. I keep running out of them. I should buy more.”

He glanced at his watch and then looked back at you, his eyes full of concern. “I should go now. You should continue resting, and don’t forget to eat.”

“Thank you so much, Mr. President,” you said, a playful tone in your voice.

“No problem. Take care and always lock your doors. Bye, see you tomorrow.”

Before he left, Seungmin ruffled your hair affectionately.

As the door closed behind him, you found yourself staring at the sticky note again, your mind racing. If it was Seungmin who left the note, did he feel that way about you? His caring nature and playful attitude seemed to match the tone of the note, but could he really be the one?

Then again, what if it wasn’t him? You couldn’t jump to conclusions based solely on a sticky note.

You took a deep breath, trying to push the thoughts aside. Until you had more evidence, you couldn’t be certain. You needed to consider all possibilities before drawing any conclusions.

Sticky notes and neat penmanship alone weren’t enough to figure out who left the note. Everyone in your class had decent handwriting, and blue sticky notes were too common to offer any real clue. They were practically identical—anyone could have bought them. It wasn't unique, not even close.

So who could it be?

"What are you thinking about?"

You were lost in thought when a voice pulled you back to reality. You looked up to see who it was.

"Uh, nothing," you replied, somewhat startled.

It was Changbin.

He was a friend of yours, though vastly different from Seungmin. If Seungmin was a green flag, then Changbin was the complete opposite—a walking red flag who had a reputation for playing with people’s hearts.

"Let me copy your physics assignment," he demanded more than asked, flashing you a grin that was both charming and mischievous.

Changbin had that bad-boy aura, and you sometimes wondered how you two even became friends. But one thing was certain: he couldn’t be the one who left that sticky note in your binder. When Changbin liked someone, he didn’t shy away from telling them directly. He would flirt openly, not leave anonymous notes.

So no, it wasn’t him.

"Why should I?" you replied nonchalantly. You were used to his antics, which might be one of the reasons why you were friends.

"Because I’m cute, and after class, I’ll buy you your favorite toothpaste-flavored ice cream," he teased.

"It’s not toothpaste! It’s mint chocolate!" you corrected, rolling your eyes.

"My bad," he smirked, unfazed. "Now, let me copy."

Too tired to argue further, you handed him your assignment. Changbin eagerly started copying, his focus entirely on the task at hand.

As you watched him scribble down your answers, you noticed his messy handwriting. There was no way it could have been him—the note’s handwriting was neat and careful, the opposite of his chaotic scrawl.

"You really have terrible handwriting. What are you, a kid? It looks like a storm blew through it," you teased, watching him.

"If I had more time, I could make it look like it was printed with a font," he shot back, not looking up. "But since the prof will be here in a few minutes, I don’t care what you say. Now, shush."

You let him finish copying, trying not to overthink the situation again, when suddenly he pulled out a blue sticky note from his bag.

"I almost forgot to give this to you," he said, handing it to you slowly. "It’s the address for the party this weekend. You should come. If I don’t see even a glimpse of you, I won’t enjoy it."

Surprised, you stared at the sticky note in his hand. It was the same color and size as the one you found in your binder. Why would he have this?

Seeing that you weren’t taking it, he grinned mischievously and stuck it to your forehead, laughing at your shocked expression.

Could it be him?

But…

You glanced at the two sticky notes in your hand, comparing them as you strolled through the expansive university yard.

Confessing like this wasn’t his style.

So it couldn’t be, right?

But the sticky notes were identical—the same length, the same height. Plain as they were, they were unmistakably the same.

Yet, you remembered how he would laugh if he knew someone confessed like this. He’d call it plain, boring, and probably mock the person as weak.

You shook off the thought, placing the sticky notes back in your binder and hugging it to your chest, forcing your mind to focus on your lessons.

"Hey, monkey!" You halted mid-step, rolling your eyes at the familiar voice and nickname.

"What?" you snapped, turning to face him.

"So you really accept now that you’re a monkey?" he teased, laughing. It was Minho.

Your friend (well, sort of?). In your group, you were like a cat and dog—he was the cat, and according to him, you were the dog because your face reminded him of one.

Despite the constant teasing, you appreciated how he looked out for you and was always there when you needed him.

But what did he just say?

"I'm not in the mood to fight with you," you muttered. On a normal day, you would have started bickering with him, refusing to back down until he surrendered (yes, like kids). "What are you, a chicken?"

"Oh, you noticed my hair. Do you like it?" he winked.

"You look like a rooster." His hair was dyed orange, and although he didn’t look like a rooster, you wanted to get back at him.

"That's better than being a monkey," he grinned.

"Crazy."

The two of you walked together, talking about random things with the usual bickering sprinkled in. Then, you remembered the sticky note. You knew it wasn’t from him because, well, why would it be?

Still, you decided to show it to him.

"Who do you think did this?" you asked, handing him the note.

He read it aloud, the words dripping with sarcasm, "That’s the cringiest thing I’ve ever read in my whole life."

Just as you expected.

"You shouldn’t say that! He must’ve gathered a lot of courage to do this."

"Why wouldn’t he just tell you in person? Is he weak?" Minho scoffed, lowering his voice when he saw you weren’t amused.

"Maybe he didn’t want to ruin our friendship."

"Then he shouldn’t have liked you in the first place."

"Can we control our feelings? It’s hard, you know!" You rolled your eyes. "Why am I even telling you this? You don’t understand anything," you mumbled, though loud enough for him to hear. "Anyway, I should go. I have something to do at the library."

"I like you."

You froze in your tracks at his words.

"That’s what he should do! It’s really easy, you know," he said, smirking before suddenly sprinting off in the opposite direction.

What was that?

Confused by Minho's words, you made your way to the library, replaying the conversation in your mind.

"What was that? Does he like me, or was he just using it as an example?"

You tried to shrug off the thought as you arrived at the library. The familiar scent of books enveloped you, a comforting distraction.

At the librarian's desk, you spotted Han, your friend who worked there as a student assistant.

"Oh, what brings you here?" he greeted you with a smile, lowering his voice in contrast to Minho’s usual volume.

"Hello. I’m returning this book." You handed him the physics book you had been hugging to your chest.

"Already? Are you sure you’re done with it? It’s okay if you missed the deadline. You know I can always talk to the senior librarian for you," Han offered, his tone warm and reassuring.

If you were to consider another suspect in your mystery investigation, Han would be a possibility. You’d never questioned how he took care of you before, but now, as you tried to solve this puzzle, you began to wonder.

Could he like you?

Or were you just overthinking things?

No, you shouldn’t read too much into Han’s actions. Like Seungmin, he was someone who genuinely cared for the people he loved.

"No, it’s okay. I’m done with it. Thank you, Han. And thanks for the offer—I might take you up on that one day and maybe never return the book," you joked, earning a laugh from him.

"Now I should go. I need to meet Hyunjin—he asked me for a favor."

"Sure! Take care!"

"Thanks. You too."

As you left the library, you felt a hand on your shoulder, stopping you in your tracks. Turning around, you saw Han, slightly out of breath.

"Hey, was this yours? You forgot it," he said, handing you the sticky note.

You didn’t know how it ended up with him, but you quickly took it and placed it in your binder.

"Oh, thanks."

"No worries. That was a cute confession," he said, still catching his breath, then laughed. "I should get back—lots of work to do."

You nodded, watching as he returned to the library.

A question formed in your mind: Was it Han?

Why didn’t he ask who wrote it?

Why wasn’t he curious?

But then, he did ask if it was yours, as if he didn’t know.

So maybe… it wasn’t him.

"You literally owe me for this one," you whined, though you knew you didn’t have much of a choice as you glanced at your friend Hyunjin, a med student with an ever-present smile.

"Yes, I promise I'll buy you whatever you want," he said, clasping his hands together in gratitude, his eyes gleaming with a sincerity that made it hard to stay annoyed. You sighed, relenting, and extended your arm.

He needed a blood sample for one of his "you-don’t-know-the-details" assignments, and apparently, you were exactly what he needed.

Like a seasoned pro, he pricked the needle into your skin and attached a small hose to collect your blood. It wasn’t the first time you’d been his willing guinea pig, but you couldn’t say no to Hyunjin.

"Thank you," he said earnestly after he was done.

"Right. You should be thankful," you retorted with a mock glare, though you couldn’t help but smile when he laughed.

Hyunjin had the most stereotypical 'doctor-y' penmanship you’d ever seen—impossible to decipher, even as you watched him scribble something in his records.

"By the way, I left a note before in your binder," he said casually.

His words rang in your ears. "What note?"

He smirked, clearly enjoying the suspense. "A note about how you should remember to take the vitamins I gave you."

Oh.

Seeing you internalize his words, he added, "And I noticed another note in there." He adjusted his white coat, a hint of mischief in his eyes. "And I know who put it there."

You looked up at him, curiosity written all over your face as he towered over you.

"And you should find that out on your own," he teased, winking before walking away, leaving you with more questions than answers.

"Why’d you call me here?" Jeongin asked as he walked into the coffee shop, a guitar slung over his back.

"Because I promised to buy you coffee," you replied with a smile.

Jeongin was a year younger than you, a music major who could play practically any instrument, though piano was his favorite.

"Really? But I’m not craving coffee right now. You should buy me a meal. I’m hungry," he said, not even trying to be cute but somehow managing to be utterly adorable.

As per his request, the two of you headed to a nearby restaurant. You let him order whatever he wanted and watched as he dug into his food.

"You must’ve been really hungry," you remarked.

"I didn’t have lunch or dinner yet," he admitted between bites.

"You shouldn’t skip meals like that! Our bodies are our main investment. We need to take care of them," you scolded, playing the role of the older sibling.

"I know, Mom," he teased.

"Good son," you laughed.

"Are you going to Changbin’s party?" he asked after stuffing more food into his mouth. You took a sip of your strawberry latte, considering your answer.

"I don’t know. I’m kinda busy."

He got back to eating, and you hesitated, feeling a question bubbling up inside you. It felt awkward, but you knew you wouldn’t be at peace until you asked.

"Uh, do you mind if I ask you a question?"

"You're already doing it," he said, his mouth still half-full.

"Let me finish!," you squinted at him. "This question is kinda weird, but…"

"Faster! I’m curious!" He leaned in slightly, his eyes sparkling with anticipation.

"Uh, do you know if anyone who’s close to us… erm…" You coughed, trying to find the right words. "…likes me? I mean, like, likes me?"

Jeongin looked up at the ceiling, thinking. "I don’t know who, but I know everyone loves you."

Well, that much was true—friendship came naturally with your group.

"And me too. I love you," he added casually.

"Aw, thank you. I love you too."

He didn’t reply, just smiled at you for a moment before turning back to his meal, leaving you with a warm feeling that was hard to shake.

"I'm so tired of that neighbor of mine!" Felix, a friend who lived three floors above you, burst into your apartment wearing pajamas and hugging his pillow.

"You can’t sleep again?" you asked, watching as he plopped down onto your sofa bed with a dramatic sigh.

"I don’t know what the hell he’s doing in the middle of the night! Was he doing construction or something?" he whined, making himself comfortable. "Oh, this is so comfortable. Let me crash here."

It wasn’t the first time he’d crashed at your place, so you were used to it. You didn’t mind at all.

"Did I bother you?" he asked, his head still buried in the pillow.

"Never."

"I should really move to this floor. It’s so peaceful."

"You could always move into my apartment and be my roommate," you suggested, a plan you’d considered before.

"No way. Someone might get angry."

"Who would that be?"

Felix didn’t answer, his silence leaving the question hanging in the air. You thought he might be teasing, but his continued silence suggested otherwise.

"And I don’t think I could handle living with you," he added.

"Why’s that?"

Once again, he didn’t respond.

"You should get some sleep. It’s past midnight," you said, heading toward your room.

As you were about to close the door, Felix called out, "I know about the blue sticky note in your binder."

You stopped in your tracks.

"Keep it, okay?" he said with a knowing smile before burying himself back into the pillow.

You wanted to ask more, but Felix seemed to be done with the conversation. With a curious mind, you went to bed, pondering over his cryptic words.

“Chan, did you really make this?” you asked, your voice brimming with excitement as you listened intently.

He nodded, a broad grin spreading across his face as he observed your reaction.

“This is the best music I’ve ever heard!” you exclaimed, pressing the earphones deeper into your ears.

“Oh, of course you’d say that because I’m your friend,” Chan said with a chuckle.

“No, I’m serious!” you replied, though you could only read his lips. The music’s high volume made it difficult to hear clearly. “This is amazing!”

“Yeah, that’s Han in the background and Changbin rapping.”

You bobbed your head along with the beats, completely immersed in the music Chan had created.

“Was Jeongin in it?” you asked, recognizing a familiar voice.

“Yes, and Hyunjin, Felix, Minho, and Seungmi—”

“This part is definitely Seungmin!” you shouted, and Chan laughed at your enthusiasm.

You continued listening, enjoying every note until the very last one, which was a soft piano melody.

“Wow, that was beautiful! I still can’t believe my friend created this. It’s a masterpiece.”

“Oh, thanks. That’s a great compliment from the person the song was inspired by,” Chan said with a knowing smile.

You didn’t catch that last part, too absorbed in the music to fully register his words.

“What’s the title of the song?” you asked, still in awe.

“Blue Sticky Note.”

The title made you stop dead in your tracks. Chan’s gaze lingered on you with an unreadable expression, as if he knew something you didn’t.

The realization hit you—the lyrics, the melody, everything about the song—

We’ve been friends for so long, shared laughter and tears,

But there’s something more inside, I’ve held back for years.

So I turned our feelings into a song, hoping you’d see,

How much you mean to me, how much you mean to me.

Oh, blue sticky note, you’re my secret, my confession,

Wrapped in notes and beats, my heart’s true expression.

In every verse, in every line, it’s you I adore,

From a simple blue sticky note to a melody I’m pouring out.

it was all connected to the note you had hidden in your binder.

part 2 here!

[urlocaldesertdweller]

Tf1! Sentinel Prime x Prime! reader

forever in love with the idea of an equally powerful bot with Sentinel prime, im normal i swear guys (spelling, grammar, and capitalization severely inconsistent , tf1 sentinel being tf1 sentinel, daresay yandere behavior)

you used to be a respected among your fellow primes and of course you had respect for them, expect for one

Sentinel prime has always been odd to you, something about him just felt off no matter how much the rest trusted him

a part of you wanted to like him back but you couldn’t, why? the rest of your brothers and sisters could, he was supposedly a great and compassionate prime just like the rest of you!

maybe it was the ego that irked you, you did always try and keep a humble view of yourself despite being a prime to all of Cybertron

or maybe it was the fact that it always felt like he was looking at you…even if he was talking to the other primes however it wasn’t exactly something you could’ve pinned your finger on

it always felt like he want more when he wanted to talk to you, guess he never had the heart to tell it yet.

Nevertheless the odd behavior made you ultimately have distance between you and him, you had actively avoided him and intentionally stayed quiet when he tried to talk to you, it only pushed him to want more out of you.

and boy oh boy was he surely thinking…

in his eyes he had loved something about you, maybe it was the way you looked when you gave cunning speech that was filled with raw power within your voice, your humbling attitude when praised for your prime duties.

oh he wanted to see so much more of you…what you would do in a dire situation, watch your natural calm composure break beyond his optics, to hear the confidence in your voice shatter and be lost…such sadistic thoughts!

or even the want to see your true power, he believes you have been…held back by your own softness, the things you could do without the responsibilities of protecting Cybertron keeping you at bay.

but as much as he wanted to rush his plan for you…it would be too predictable for you at least.

from personally delivering your energon cubes right at your chamber, praising you despite your declines, and pushes for conversations during meetings, gatherings, or even interviews, he will hold a smirk while asking bold questions that will certainly both stun the interviewer and yourself…

he will keep on pushing your buttons until you give in.

whether you confront him or not, he enjoys watching you take notice and look at him differently, its what he wanted…the attention of his favorite prime!

this is where he takes the opportunity to dig in more personal conversations along with watching you train and he will actively get close after you are done to admire your wonderful performance and bod, to which he will praise it, further pushing the limit as his fingertips graze from your weapon to your servos dangerously trailing up as thought tempting to tease you.

(he dreams of being play sparing with you and will intentionally let you win he wants to be dominant)

although you are still occasionally suspicious of him, it is true that he has gotten under your bod plates from a mixture of irritation and curiosity

if you keep on pushing him away, itll only make him want you more, he needs more of you, his thirst of you can never be quenched, his optics must always be on you watching you do everything so flawlessly…

Sentinel hates being challenged but when it comes to you? it loves and lives for the thrill of constantly trying to get you under his charms, in hopes that he’ll be able to spare you as he murders the rest of the primes.

you are simply too divine to be wasted so easily

[beegomess]

L.B. || I can love you even in the dark

Summary: Lorenzo loved you, always. Even from a distance, even watching you happy with someone else. Warnings: a little sad, but very romantic.

Requests are open!

Lorenzo fell in love with you the first time his eyes crossed. The memory of that moment was as vivid in his mind as when he began to attend Malfoy Mansion at the age of six. He and his brother, laughing and running, disputed the attention of the adults, but Lorenzo always had a watchful eye on you. He and Draco competed not only for the future power they both knew they would have, but for the little antics of childhood - like stealing your toys and running away through the property, with you running after them, laughing and complaining at the same time.

There was something about you that Lorenzo couldn't explain at that time, a feeling that disturbed him and confused him. In childhood, the feelings seemed simple and fleeting, but what he felt for you was an exception. It was a love that was not easily extinguished, despite its youth and innocence. Even if he didn't admit it to anyone - maybe not even to himself - he knew that that feeling was deeper than anything else he had ever experienced.

Adolescence brought distance and insecurity. Lorenzo was selected for a school of magic different from his and Draco's, facing a new world alone. While you and your brother were surrounded by friends and adventures, he felt isolated, away from the comfort of established friendships. He felt a twinge of envy, not only for the company you had, but for the very feeling of being so far away from you.

For a while, Lorenzo tried to convince himself that his feelings were just childish nonsense. But this illusion didn't last long. Everything fell apart when he saw you again, next to Theodore Nott, at a formal dinner. The connection between you was impossible to ignore. Lorenzo noticed the silent understanding and affection that were reflected in every look exchanged between you. Theodore's reserved smile opened more easily in his presence, a reality that Lorenzo faced with a mixture of pain and resignation.

Lorenzo tried to resume childhood friendship, but something was always out of place. Despite the efforts, he felt that Theodore was always the only one you really had in mind. The confirmation that you were together was a devastating blow. Lorenzo tried to move on, starting a relationship with Amélie. She was kind and charming, but in many ways she reminded you in a disturbing way. The similarities were so many that he couldn't ignore, making him miss something he should never have lost.

That year's Christmas was especially painful. Lorenzo decided to take Amélie to dinner at Malfoy Mansion, trying to overcome what he felt for you. But seeing you and Theodore together, your determination faltered. The way his eyes shone next to Theodore made Lorenzo realize the truth he had avoided: he still loved you, and that would not change.

As you moved away for a breath of the brightness and bustle of the party, Lorenzo was leaning against a column of the pergola, contrasting with the grandeur of the illuminated garden. The discouragement in his posture was palpable.

- So, did you decide to take a break from the competition of those who have more confidence in the Dark Lord? - He raises his eyes, forcing a small and tired smile. His expression softens when he sees you, and he responds with a forced lightness.

- In fact, I needed a breath away from the bow ties and the conversations about the last carriage model. - You laugh, and Lorenzo watches your laughter with a nostalgic glow. - I've always liked the way you laugh. - he says, his voice softening.

- It's good to know that I can still bring a little light to such a boring party. - Lorenzo smiles back, but the lightness soon gives way to a shadow of concern when you ask.

- How are you? - You stare at him, and he responds with a forced smile.

- I've been better. - He confesses, and you, with an expression of surprise, ask:

- Amélie?

Lorenzo's expression changes instantly, and he lowers his gaze, loaded with sadness.

- Actually, we're done.

The concern becomes evident in his gaze, his cheeks blushing slightly in shame of being so intrusive.

- I'm sorry, Lorenzo. I had no idea, I didn't want to remind you of something bad. - He shakes his head, trying not to look more dejected than he already is.

- Don't apologize. I wasn't exactly the ideal boyfriend. - You stare at him, skeptical of his words.

- Don't be so hard on yourself. I really don't think that's true. - Lorenzo looks at the ground, his sadness reflected in the party in the background - the exuberant flowers and the stone paths now look cold and distant.

- It shouldn't be easy to have your boyfriend in love with someone else, should it? - The silence that follows is deep and painful. You feel the weight of the words, and Lorenzo finally breaks the silence, his voice almost a whisper.

- I tried to forget you, really. But somehow, you always reappeared in my mind. It was like I could never get rid of you, no matter how hard I tried.

Your heart squeezes with sincerity in your words. You respond with a soft tone, tears starting to form.

- Enzo, I... I don't know what to say. I'm sorry. - Tears start running down Lorenzo's face. He asks, with an almost imperceptible tremor:

- Do you really love Theodore?

You hesitate, the weight of truth pressing every word. Finally, answer sincerely.

- Yes... I love it. - Lorenzo closes his eyes for a moment, the visible pain on his face. He then asks, with palpable despair:

- How much do you love him?

You take a deep breath, the tears falling freely now, and respond with total sincerity.

- I love him with all my heart.

Lorenzo hears his words, the weight of acceptance mixed with a deep sadness. He closes his eyes, one last look at you full of pain and resignation. The sadness on his face is even more evident under the lights of the party, creating a cruel contrast with the visible pain.

- That's all I needed to know. - he murmurs, his voice almost inaudible.

He turns and begins to move away, his heavy and slow step, as if carrying an invisible burden. The last time you see him, he is moving away by the illuminated trail, his tears mixing with the humidity of the night. The silence of the garden becomes even deeper, wrapped in a palpable sadness, as you watch Lorenzo's departure. The moment marks the end of a painful chapter.

After that devastating night, Lorenzo's life plunged into a spiral of desolation. The colors that once gave liveliness to your world now seemed to fade. Each day seemed to drag on, and the feeling of loss became more intense with each step.

Voldemort's return brought a wave of terror that swept the magical world. The Berkshire family, traditionally aligned with the diners, had made a critical decision: they did not seek the Dark Lord after his fall and did not encourage Lorenzo to join him. When the news of the return came, the family immediately fled, fearing Voldemort's revenge, and handed over valuable information to the Order of the Phoenix, in an attempt to redeem themselves and protect what was left of their integrity.

During the hunt, Theodore Nott was assigned to find the Berkshires. Despite his mission, Nott demonstrated a remarkable behavior of humanity. On several occasions, Lorenzo crossed paths with him during the escape. Nott seemed to deliberately choose to ignore Lorenzo, offering him opportunities to escape, as if he wanted to spare the Berkshires because of the feeling of friendship that still remained between you.

With the end of the war, the magical world began to rebuild, but Lorenzo's life went on at a fast pace. The sporadic news about you and Theodore, who were on the run and missing, came to him as distant echoes. This news built an almost mythical scenario, where you became urban legends — often mentioned, but rarely seen.

As if fate wanted to play with cruel irony, Lorenzo was summoned to assume a position as a teacher at Hogwarts. The invitation seemed to fulfill a childhood dream, but instead of excitement, he found a feeling of disconnection and disconnection. Hogwarts, now marked by the scars of war, seemed like a distant and almost unrecognizable scenario.

Lorenzo had spent years refusing the invitations of Hogwarts. He always claimed a full schedule or lack of motivation, but the truth was that the wounds of war and the pain of unrequited love were still very fresh. The anguish of an unresolved past seemed impenetrable, and he hid behind excuses and reticence.

But something has changed. In a moment of hopelessness, he finally accepted the invitation. It was an opportunity to turn the page, to reinvent yourself. However, while crossing the magical portal to the 9 ¾ platform, Lorenzo found a vision that made his heart squeeze with unexpected pain. In the middle of the hustle and bustle of the station, he saw you and Theodore with an 11-year-old girl. Theodore was lowered at her height, with an expression of tenderness that Lorenzo would never forget. The girl had the delicate traits inherited from you, but with Theodore's slightly lighter and wavy hair. She walked away, smiling, and went to follow her cousin, Scorpius, to the entrance of the train.

Lorenzo's heart broke when he saw that scene. It was a cruel reminder of everything he had lost, of how life went on without him, while he remained trapped in the labyrinth of pain and loss. Theodore's genuine happiness with his daughter seemed a cruel reflection of his own sadness. He wanted to rejoice in his happiness, but the weight of his own pain was overwhelming.

With an almost superhuman effort, Lorenzo got on the train before you turned around. He forced himself to look away, his chest heavy with a mixture of pain and resignation. Every step towards Hogwarts seemed like an additional weight in the heart, and the castle, although familiar, now looked like a labyrinth of nostalgia and unresolved suffering.

As the days passed and Lorenzo began his classes, he dedicated himself to work with an almost obsessive intensity. Every moment away from contact with your pain seemed like a little relief. But, inevitably, he couldn't help it. He watched Isabella Nott through the corridors, a constant and painful presence that incessantly reminded him of you and Theodore. The resemblance to you was a cruel echo of the life he had lost.

Finally, the day came when Lorenzo had to face his pain in a more brutal way. When making the call for her first class, the name "Isabella Nott" appeared on the list. The pain was almost physical, as if his heart had been spiked by a sharp blade. Her name resonated with Theodore's inheritance and the memories of a love that never materialized. The sound of the name "Nott", her look, in the same color as her eyes, with Theodore's countenance, were a painful representation of what Lorenzo had tried to bury.

Just as Severus Snape carried a deep and unrequited love for Lily Evans, Lorenzo carried a love that seemed uncompromising and unattainable. Every step at Hogwarts, every moment watching the little girl, was a constant reminder of the pain he had carried for so long. His journey was marked by a constant internal battle, a persistent shadow that seemed to have no end.

With a deep sigh and a crushed heart, Lorenzo realized that, although he had received a new chance with the work at Hogwarts, the emotional scar he carried would not disappear so easily. Life was a cruel combination of redemption and torment, and he wondered if he could ever truly free himself from the emotional burden he carried.

____________________________

masterlist

xoxo, bee🫶🏼✨

[macsimagines]

Yandere!Mikey w/ a S/O that had his child

ASKBOX IS OPEN

(So for this set of headcanons its for a Mikey thats been consumed by his dark impulses and has probably lost everyone... ALSO PLEASE tell me what you think? I work better when I'm given notes so any complaints or compliments ill take!)

(D/N) - Daughters Name (Y/N) - Your Name

You were supposed to be a one night stand. He wasn't even going to give you the time of day. You were some secretary or pencil pusher and he was making deals (harassing) your boss.

But you catch his eye, and your boss has you entertain him to make things go smoother.

Thankfully, you two hit it off. Mikey can be charming despite his horrible reputation and you've got such beautiful kind eyes...

One thing leads to another and one unforgettable night you two have sex.

Mikey doesn't call you or contact you after that, and you can take the hint that it didn't mean anything more than just a way to relieve stress.

That would be all fine and dandy if it weren't for the fact that you were puking your guts out and happened to be pregnant.

You can't depend on Mikey, you don't think he'll accept your child and you really don't want them involved in the underworld that Mikey controls.

So you move out of Tokyo to distant family in a different town. You get a job, have your wonderful child and live peacefully in a small town.

Four years down the road, you end up back in Tokyo with your daughter. You owed a friend a favor and you're not too worried.

Your Daughter might be Mikey's clone but Tokyo is a big city and he's a busy man. He must have had countless women before he's not going to recognize your face out of a million others. Plus its been years. You should be safe right?

Wrong. You wake up one morning and (D/N) is gone. You're frantic searching for her, so confused where she could have gone from your friends apartment when it hits you: The Park!

Sprinting over there you're met with a sight you never thought you'd see. Mikey holding your fidgeting daughter in his arms.

If not for the terrifying look in his eyes the scene is almost comical.

The two of them together look like a before and after picture because of how similar they are.

"Y/N, you wanna explain this?" he asks you, and you're more shocked he remembered your name than anything else.

You try to pull it together, you don't want to cause a scene in front of your daughter.

"Th-that's my daughter. She ran off this morning and I've been looking for her."

He tilts his head to the side while he looks you up and down, placing your little girl on his hip.

"Don't you mean our daughter?" there's something dark in his voice and down right malevolent in his eyes.

Panic rises in your chest and you look down at the ground. "I just...I wanted her to be safe. I-I didn't think you'd care."

Your sweet Daughter whimpers for you, not understanding who this strange man is or why he's making her mommy so upset.

"You thought I wouldn't acknowledge my own child? Am I that kind of man to you?"

Silence stretches between you before you finally get the courage to say; "How did you even find us?"

Mikey just stares and holds your girl close before answering; "I heard you were in town. I came looking for you, and found her. Guess this is fate."

What you didn't know was that Mikey did want you, he wanted you so bad it almost drove him crazy. He tried to keep his distance and ignore you, and just when he can't take it anymore he finds out you moved away?

That's fine. It wasn't meant to be. But he had eyes and ears out for you if you ever came back to him. If you willingly walked back into the lions den that must mean you want him to have you.

He hears your back, with a daughter, and that's not a problem. If you have a husband he'll make sure you don't anymore and he doesn't mind a brat, you'll give him some of his own and that will make up for it.

So he goes looking for you, and he's almost to the apartments he knows you're staying at when a little girl catches his eyes. For a second he thought he hallucinated a mirror, but no staring up at him is his own face.

In his heart he knows who this girl is. And he's mystified when she starts talking to him.

"How come the sun's so bright?" she asks him for whatever insane reason.

And the empty abyss in his chest is suddenly full of love and affection. She's perfect. He had a perfect daughter now. Mikey embraces and tells her as much. That she's wonderful and beautiful and so loved.

Then you come sprinting towards them and Mikey suddenly remembers you kept her from him.

Back to the present, he thinks if this had been anyone else he would have killed them. But its you. And thankfully you raised the perfect child and gave him a healthy daughter, so he can't be too mad. He'll take it out on some underlings that left out very important details...

"I'll take responsibility," he tell you grabbing you by the wrist and pulling you so you're face to face, "And you will too, Y/N. We're gonna raise a very happy family. And you're going to give me a very big one. Lots of kids." one for every person he's ever lost.

[clitorphosis]

HOLY, HOLY, HOLY S(EX)

Priest! Leon S. Kennedy x Widow! reader | 18+ MDNI. smut, female reader, light religious themes, Leon is a priest, reader is a widow, sexual fantasy, wax play, blasphemy kink, vaginal sex, teasing, nipple play, improper use of rosary and altar, mention of grief and death, guilt, breathplay words: 2407 tags: @ivmp, @leonskittenbunny

⊹˚₊‧───────────────‧₊˚⊹˚₊‧───────────────‧₊˚⊹˚ ₊‧────

A year ago your husband died. Since then you felt lost and deeply confused by your own feelings. Grief is always described as something specific with the same face. Yours was different, all you could do was stand still and not feel anything. Bad glare from people every time you weren’t fitting into a stereotypical widow, has led to guilt. He wasn’t a bad person, not at all. You got married quickly, but in the end, your relationship got more formal and was based on mutual respect. He was religious though, you do not really care about religion in general, but as a matter of respect, you decided to realize his last wish. In such confused and dark period of your life, this decision brought you a new presence in your life which spawned you a suffocating desire in your chest.

Leon is nice, he supported you after the death of your husband. Handsome too, wearing a black shirt with a nice white collarino around his neck, not hiding his Adam’s apple which makes you feel the urge to sink your teeth into its flesh and take a bite. He helped to prepare and perform the funeral, so it was natural for your attention to shift to be more focused on him, not on your sorrow anymore. Leon is a little bit awkward with you which adds more charm. And he is lonely, so it was easy for you to get closer to him, by being a ‘friend’. You like how his cheeks paint with a soft blush after you lean closer to him or your hand ‘accidentally’ brushes against his. Maybe he is a little bit older than you, but this doesn’t bother you a lot. And how your gaze always roamed lower than his face didn’t go unnoticed by him, catching him clearing his throat and rubbing his chin, but his gaze always found its way back to you. However, if you were to describe what you simply liked the most about him; he is a priest. The forbidden fruit is the sweetest and you are no different from Eve.

Leon is the man who filled every empty hole in your life, but not the one you wanted the most and you had to do it by yourself. One of many nights, your fingers would crawl under your lacy panties to touch your pussy, while the other hand would knead your breast. Filling the room with moans and picturing him to do that, how nice would his mouth feel on your nipples while the tip of his dick would kiss your cervix and paint your walls with his sperm. Such fantasies have become a routine already, touching yourself in the bed where your late husband should be, no longer feeling guilty.

Someone would tell you, you should be drowning in guilt and be ashamed, but it seems you were born shameless. You don’t care. The dim light of the stained-glass windows cast a soft, multicolored glow over you, both sitting on the wooden pew. His rough hand is resting on your shoulder gently while his blue eyes are set on your frame, his other hand reaches to your chin, tilting your head up gently and he meets your gaze. You force down more than two or three tears in front of him, your hands are clasped. Looking sad and awful over your late husband you don’t care about anymore.

“Oh father” and you can feel his hand traveling down from your shoulder to your waist and he gives it a light squeeze, his blue eyes don’t hide what he is feeling right now. He leans closer to you, his frame is a little bit over yours and your eyes drift to a Rosary that hugs his wrist, the pendant with crucifix dangling in the air. “You can call me by my name right now…” he tries to correct you in a hoarse voice, he is speaking low and quietly, forgetting about the fact that the church is empty. “Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned” you interrupted him, your breathing filling the space and he grinned, letting out a chuckle. Your hands unclasp to reach for the buttons of your bodice and start to undo them, not trying to be slow or teasing and exposing quickly the flesh of your chest to his gaze. Your nipples are already hard and they get harder at the cold air brushing them.

“You have indeed, my child” Leon says, biting lower lip before his hands start moving down to the skirt of your dress, raising it until your underwear gets exposed to his gaze. Hungrily eyeing it for a second before his attention shifts towards the nearby candle holder and one of his hands leaves your flesh to reach for one of the candles, bringing it closer to you. It casts a soft glow and you can see its light flickering in his blue eyes, there is a comfortable warmth coming from it too. “But I am here to absolve you of your sins, little lamb” Leon looks down at you, his hand tilts the candles and lets the dollop of wax fall on the skin of your thigh. The sensation is hot, as it connects with your flesh, making you flinch softly and letting out a gasp. The newfound pain subsides into a warm, throbbing pleasure while his other hand travels down to hold your thigh and pull your body closer to him. Raising the hot stick more, now wax is dripping on the flesh of your chest, making you arch your body cause of the feeling of a light sting turning into a high pleasure. “Pain can cleanse the soul, suffering brings us closer to God” He whispers and his eyes are set on your lower body, after the wax dries it leads to another hot dollop. It feels like a soothing caress and your senses get heightened every time a new drop meets your skin. The wooden pew creaked beneath your weight as you leaned back, the sound of it echoing through the empty church. Leon's grin widened, his eyes locked on the exposed lace of your underwear as his palm slide up to it, thumb softly pressing against the already wet slit. His digit starts slowly rubbing your clothed clit, clockwise circles and pressure applied on the bud bring more pleasure, while wax continues to drip down, a light feeling of pain adding more pleasure and making you sensitive.

While placing away the candle, Leon’s eyes behold the sight of you, legs spread and moaning quietly his name, you probably are not realizing this which makes his cock stir in pants painfully, desperate to be released and to be balls deep inside your tight pussy, or any other possible hole. The image in his mind is so clear and arousing, that he lets out a shaky sigh. He isn’t sure how long he has relied only on his fist, convincing himself that this was enough while he would jerk off on sexy chicks in cheap magazines or watch amateur porn in his bedroom, hiding from the eyes of God. Today is going to be different, this time God is going to have a good show. “Are you not ashamed?” He says, his two thick fingers press against your clit and circle slowly, before pinching it with index and thumb, forcing a louder moan. He pushed aside the wet fabric of your underwear, exposing your drenching cunt to his gaze. You don’t answer, you are too distracted by the sight of his hand coming to unbutton and free his cock from his pants. His hard length is thick and throbbing, leaking with precum from the slit of the pink tip and it is aching for your attention. You reach your hand to palm it, to feel the skin and stroke it, but all you get is a slap on your flesh, making your fist retreat.

“Seducing a man of God, you don’t even listen to me, do you?” Leon’s tongue makes a ‘tsk’ sound, condescendingly shaking his head. “A man of God should not be so easily swayed away from his faith” You taunt him, your fingertips lightly brushing on the fabric of his shirt, tugging some buttons and undoing them to take a glance at his skin underneath. A smile played on your lips, which made Leon’s face grimace for a brief moment, clearly annoyed by your words. In a quick motion, he lifts you and shoves you down on the flat surface of the altar which makes you let out a loud whimper. Another whine escapes from your mouth when a light slap lands on your cheek and you feel more slick pooling. “Maybe this is a divine plan,” he says, standing in between your legs, his cock pressed against your cunt, your hips jerking at the feeling of his spit on it. “Nothing escapes his gaze, be sure he wants this too”

The chilly liquid contrasts with the hot arousal you are feeling in between your legs. He rubbed his cockhead against your slick fold, coating it with your essence while spreading the spit around with his cock which increase the squelching wet sounds which only aggravates his own desire. Not really thinking much about anything than burying his dick in you, Leon guided your hips down onto his cock and slowly sank into your drenching heat, stretching its inner walls. Your pussy envelopes his length in a warm and slick embrace, clenching around him tightly, he lets out an involuntary groan. There is a pleasant hint of pain which quickly fades as his hips begin thrusting upwards. Slowly and teasing stroke, his hand is resting on the surface of the altar, leaning over you and he is panting heavily before his breathing gets muffled by your breasts. Burying his face in between and sucking on the skin, crawling up until his mouth stops on the hard nipple, playing with it sloppily and nibbling. Your eyes roll back into the head and your body arches into his movements when his hips sped up, his balls slap against the flesh of your ass. Squelching and wet sounds, combined with the flesh-hitting ones fill the church. Every deep and rough thrust with his cock hit well your pudgy spot, making you wetter and your walls clench tighter around him. Your own slick drips, stain the material of the altar, but you don’t notice this cause you are drowning deep in the bliss. A loud whimper escaped from your lips when you felt something wrapping around your neck, clearly not expecting it to be his Rosary and his movements ceased, holding one of the first beads and his thumb rubs onto it.

“Our Father, who art in heaven, hallowed be thy name; thy kingdom come; thy will be done on earth as it is in heaven” his hoarse voice prays, Leon bowed his head closer to your lip and he kissed you. He doesn’t wait or try to be gentle with it, teeth sinking onto the flesh of your lower lip and drawing light drops of blood which he licked away quickly as they appeared. His cock began pumping again as he repeats the words, slurring. His tongue delves deeper, tasting you.

“Holy Mary, Mother of God, pray for us sinners, now and at the hour of death.” He recites another prayer, his thumb shifted to the other bead while his hips move, thrusting deeper, one of these kissed your cervix roughly with his tip. His hand starts tugging tighter on the rosary, limiting the oxygen in your body. He pulls out before slamming back, roughly bullying his cock into your wet hole, his pace returns to a fast one and Leon groans at the pleasure of having your tight and wet walls clinging to his length.

“Glory be to the Father, and to the Son, and to the Holy Spirit…” Leon hissed breathlessly. A deep and fast thrust before he stops for a moment to grind his tip into your cervix, the hold gets tighter and your body starts getting more numb, feeling your head getting lightheaded. It is scarily arousing, your fingers reach to his arms, leaving scratches all over exposed skin. He began pounding your drenching hole and the pace grew more aggressive, hitting your g-spot and cervix more often and making you squeal. His hold tightened until the Rosary broke and you felt oxygen rushing into your body, bringing you to higher pleasure from overflowing sensations. Your frame shudders and you let out a cry, vision gets blurry and head empty, as your pussy spasms around him, sucking in and milking his length. You can feel the beating of your heart ringing in your ears, but you don’t get any time to respite. Leon doesn’t try to hold his moans, the feeling of your walls spasming leads his cock to twitch. His climax began building up quickly, making his hips roll roughly and your nails dig more into his flesh, leaving red half-moon marks. But his thrusts don’t slow down and get a little bit messier, overstimulating your body and intensifying your orgasm. He slams his cock deeper, tip pressing against the cervix as he finally reached his high - his cock sprouts rope after ropes of his cum inside your still clenching hole.

“Amen” Leon groans, his voice shaky from the pleasure circling in his body. He lolls his head back, half-lidded eyes looking up at the ceiling of the church. His chest is rising heavily, you are both out of breath and the sound is filling the space, echoing on the walls.

“Fuck, I think I was close to seeing God” you mutter out breathlessly, looking up at Leon and he finds your words funny, his hand reaches to push away your hair from your eyes. “You won’t be the first” he replies with a low chuckle, his arm wrapped around your waist to pull you closer. You shift, sitting on the table more comfortably letting your head rest against his chest. His heartbeat is chaotic and still hasn’t calmed down from your escapade, but your attention shifted and was brought to the crucifix of Christ, his half-lidded and sorrowful eyes looking down at both of you. The only witness of the act, the thought made your skin cover in goosebumps and the air of church feel chillier than before.

[mrsackermannx]

chef!sukuna who’s still lower in the rank than he wants to be, but so close to being a sous. tonight is his night to do the night’s special dish, finally. he earned this. he knew that if the head chef just let him, he could create the best dish ever served at this damn place.

so, he does just that.

he’s immediately scolded, the dish uses too many ingredients, the head says. too much to prepare. too ambitious. even though he used all of the left over ingredients from the menu’s usuals. 0% waste, 0% additional cost.

sukuna curses, taking a deeper drag of his cigarette. “make sure no table gets that shit,” he hears, with his fists clenching at his sides. ill go to the gym after this, he thinks, yeah, punch the fuck out of that bag.

it turns out that only table 8 has the dish, your table. the server messed up and now they’re crying in the back to the porter because they’ve been fired on the spot. “i told you not to fucking take it! have you never done expo-“

sukuna stalks calmly to the shaking waiter, “show me table eight-“ he sighs, levelling the head chef with a glare, sukuna was much larger, much stronger than him, difference in rank or not. he stood down, stalking down the other side of the kitchen with a huff. “ignore him, i wanna see who’s eating my dish, come on, let’s go.”

a reassuring pat to the shoulder from sukuna was almost enough to make him cry even more. sukuna kind of hated everyone.

“just there, chef. the couple, bedside the pillar on the left…its um…her, chef.” he grins, watching how transfixed the normally gruff man is, “your girl heh heh.”

“shut up,” he says, but he smiles a little.

he watches you, sat opposite some guy you hardly look interested in, you’re beautiful, the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen, as always, his eyes are drawn to you, no other woman could compare.

he watches you slice through his dish, the fork at your lips, as soon as it reaches your mouth you make a noise of such rapture, a sudden quiet falls upon the floor of the restaurant.

it’s almost weird how heat rushes low at the sight and the sound, he can’t remember the last time anyone else fired him up like this. he never took himself to have any kind of food fetish, either. yet watching you eat his dishes always seems to be an erotic exchange he never anticipates.

“oh…him? think they’re married?”

“i don’t think so.”

that man seems to hiss at you, eyes on his watch, barely touching his dish. “i wanted pizza downtown, god.”

you shake your hand in dismissal, shoving another forkful in your mouth. “i wanted this, i always want this.”

sukuna let’s out a breathy fuck, and the server practically faints.

no one was immune to sukuna’s charm, then, it seemed.

“oh, fuck, table 7 saw me. fuck, chef ive already been fire-“

“go and give them a reason not to fire you. go, go to your table kid, it’s still yours, right?”

the table beside you seems to have called him over, asking for the same dish you seem to believe has came from heaven, telling anybody who asks.

sukuna can’t help but enjoy the lively affair, as the restaurant manager tries to explain over and over to more and more tables that the chef special has been cancelled. oh, how he loved this little bit of chaos.

“why?” your voice clatters through the cacophony like a piece of silverware on crockery. “this dish is phenomenal, the best ive ever eaten here and in this city, in this country-“

“miss-“

“taste it! can you not taste the hard work? the thought? its the best thing ive ever eaten. the chef who made this has impeccable taste and talent.”

your laughter rings through the place at your partners embarrassment. sukuna is about to pry himself away and head back into the kitchen, leaning on the side of the bar and then…your eyes meet, another forkful is waiting before those glossed lips. another sweet sound of joy rings through the air.

now you see him, huh?

your smile is sweeter than agave, “it’s you.”

your words are lost on everyone around you, but to sukuna he hears them as if you whispered them right against his ear.

sukuna was a tall, broad, and unquestionably handsome man, unmissable out of his chef whites, invisible in them, somehow. obscured by the ambient lighting of the restaurant.

you near him, like a moth to a flame, a sensual air to the way your hips flick toward him. “you-“

the head chef storms through to the restaurant floor, the door slamming you both into the corresponding wall. his large arms wrap around you, his hand cups the back of your head.

he slowly retracts his hand, and your chest rises as you resist the urge to press your cheekbone into his palm, “are you okay?”

his voice is deep and addicting, dark and dripping down your throat.

you’re beaming at him, like he’s an angel, like he’s somebody you already adore. he gifts you a lover’s laugh, “you seem to be the only satisfied person in the building tonight.”

“seems like you’ve satisfied me sir.” you wink, still letting his aura press you into the wall, he cages you in with his arms.

“oh?”

“last thursday. that soup, you made it, didn’t you…?”

“sukuna,” he answers for you, “maybe.”

“seafood special last month?”

“yes, and your name?”

for some reason he’s out of breath, you’re so close, so fancy in your silk dress, clad in jewellery that sparkles even under these dimmed lights. “reader, you…you’re a genius.”

“so you came to thank me personally?” he leans closer, swiping sauce from the corner of your lip. it lingers on his thumb, his eyes chase yours as he licks it. “how sweet of you.”

[fanficsat12am]

when the brothers realize how much MC loves them I Leviathan, Satan, Asmodeus

📜 𝙼𝙰𝚂𝚃𝙴𝚁𝙻𝙸𝚂𝚃!! 📜

Lucifer & Mammon

Happy New Year everyone!! Hope ya guys had a great flippin holiday time :> As always, notes, comments, and reblogs are highly appreciated <33 Have fun reading!!

Leviathan

Putting himself down was second nature to him at this point—sometimes he didn’t even realize he was doing it. It especially got even worse after getting into a relationship with you. His mind refused to believe that anyone could ever love someone like him. 

Levi dreaded the day you’d finally see what he sees and ultimately decide to leave, but he wouldn't hold it against you. Why would you settle for someone like him when there were countless others in the three realms who could give you so much more…

“Hey, you okay?” you asked worriedly, noticing his glazed look and how his eyes had dimmed. “O-of course I’m fine! Pft, why would I be lol,” he stumbles out, trying to keep up his facade—but of course, you saw through it. 

As he tries to get back to his game he can feel your eyes piercing him. 

“I’m going to ask you how you are one more time and I would like you to answer me honestly,” gently taking the controller in his hands from him and placing it aside. “Now tell me, what’s up?”

“I-I’m sorry,” he said, the words not too foreign to his tongue. 

“If this is about last week I've already told yo-” “Ugh, that’s not what I meant…” he cuts you off, trying to find the right words. 

“I-it’s just…you could have had ANYBODY else, but instead you’re stuck with me. I can’t 1v1 Beel's body, Diavolo’s money, Asmo’s looks- heck even stupid Mammon’s got charm! I'm just Levi, the plain old third-born…” he bites his lip, trying to keep his tears at bay. His efforts proved futile as he felt its warm trickle slowly dripping down his face, one after the other.

A part of him wanted to take back everything he just said—to restart and pick a different approach. But this wasn’t another one of his games. This was real life, and in here you've only got one shot. It was game over, he knew he had lost. 

He shut his eyes tight, listening closely for the sound of you finally walking out those doors. He couldn't bear to watch you leave him. 

You shake your head at the absurdity of his words, cupping his face into your hand. “I’m not stuck with you, silly. I choose to be here.”

Opening his eyes back again he's met with you smiling at him, the sight making his heart skip a beat. 

“I’m here because I can’t get enough of you. I love how your cheeks would go red when I catch you staring at me,” you say, leaning closer and leaving a kiss on his cheek. 

“How your brows would furrow and your eyes would squint whenever you’re focused on your game,” sending a kiss by the bridge of his nose. 

You gently grab his wrist and fumble on the soft skin of his palms with the pads of your thumb. “How you’d start gesturing with your hands a lot when you talk about the latest anime you’re into,” you reminisce, another kiss now to the back of his hand. 

“How right before you fall asleep, you hold me closer and whisper to the dead of the night how much you love me,” you say as you end it with a tender kiss to his lips. 

“And each day I find myself falling for you even more. They could try to give me the whole world, but they’ll never be you. So please, stop thinking you need to earn my affection because you don't. Not now and not ever.” 

You lift his face up to meet your gaze, looking at him as if you see right through him. “There is nothing I would change about you. You are perfect in my eyes.”

He felt like his heart was about to beat out of his chest. He was left speechless, his mind going haywire with everything you had just said. 

Seeing how his brain had completely stopped working, he let his body do all the talking instead. He wordlessly wrapped you in a tight embrace, cherishing the warmth of your body against his. 

The bitter taste of the sin he was meant to represent felt absent. Levi sensed no need to be envious of others when he had someone like you to call his.

Satan

Not once had he let himself think that he could indulge himself in something such as love—for wrath did not deserve the peace of love. While love held everything together in its warm embrace, wrath tirelessly tore with its cold unforgiving hands. 

Despite their differences, there was no denying that both were blind. Just like a moth, you were entranced by the beautiful embers of his flame, blissfully indifferent to the heat. 

He stared at his reflection with disdain. The obsidian black horns adorning his head felt heavier the longer he looked, not to mention the tail that whipped mindlessly on its own. He gritted his teeth in disgust, delivering a blow to the mirror that sent it hurdling to the ground. Through his ragged breaths and the rapid beating of his heart, he hears a voice not of his own. 

"Satan?" you called, breaking him from his trance-like state. You softly closed his door behind you, hands outstretched and unsteady. 

With each step you took, he took two back—his mind screaming at him to stay away from you but his heart yearning to leap into your hold. 

"Hey, it's okay," you reassured, taking a step towards him. 

"No it's not!" he screams, backing away from your approaching form. 

Hearing the crunch of glass under the weight of his shoes, he takes notice of the mirror he broke just moments ago. Reflected on its cracked surface was a distorted image of him; a monster.

"Please, let me help," you pleaded, trying to close the gap between you. He hastily steps back, tripping on his own feet and leaving him a heap on the floor. 

"Don't come any closer!" he screams, the room shaking with the sheer volume of his voice. You kneel to his level, quickly engulfing him in your arms. 

‘Run. He doesn't deserve you. Just stay away.’ He repeated in his head like a silent prayer, hoping that by some miracle it would come true. 

But as he felt you hold him tighter, he knew you would do nothing of the sort. As he trembled in your arms, he wills himself to ask the question that had been plaguing his mind since the day you'd started dating. 

"Why?" he whispered softly, almost inaudible if not for the heavy silence of the night. "I could lose control. Why do you insist on staying? To even consider feeling anything for a monster such as myself is just…foolish."

You think about your answer carefully, knowing that what you say next will mend or break the man in your hold. "Loving someone takes courage. To trust someone with your heart and believe they would keep it safe. Keep you safe. Let the three realms call me foolish but there's no doubt in my mind that I love you, Satan. Not the Avatar of Wrath, you Satan,'' you answer truthfully, pouring every ounce of your heart into each word.  

Gently taking hold of his chin, you tilt his head up to meet your eyes. "Tell me now Satan, will you hurt me?" you ask, the demon shaking his head immediately. He wouldn't dream of ever wishing to cause harm to you. He would die first before anybody, let alone himself, hurt you. 

"Then it is not foolish of me to love you" you say, your words unfaltering. 

Tears welled in his eyes, accepting defeat at the hands of your love and melting deeper into your embrace. As he lays on your chest, he turns to face where your heart would be and whispers an oath. "I love you, MC. I shall protect you with my life" he vows, sealing his promise with a kiss.

Asmodeus

As the Avatar of Lust and the Jewel of the Heavens, he was always the talk of the town. You, on the other hand, weren’t too familiar with the gossip world. Although you knew that was going to change once you officially became a couple. 

You took no mind to it, brushing them off with a small wave knowing that the wrong move could only add more oil to their flame. But Asmo wasn’t like you. He could feel all the looks they gave him, the incessant whispers and murmurs whenever he’d turn his back. 

He typically had no care for whatever lies people have heard about him. The same could not be said though when they had the audacity to include you into the mix. It was slowly chewing away at him and he couldn’t deny the pit of doubt slowly churning inside him.

“I saw MC out with one of the brothers last week. They’ve been getting closer recently. I wonder what happened between them"

"I saw them leaving school with Simeon yesterday, I’m surprised that’d cheat on Asmo with someone like him” 

”They’ve got the most powerful people of the Devildom wrapped around their finger and they’re still with Asmo? Damn”

The final blow was realizing that everything was better without him in the picture. Your smile wasn't just bright, it was brighter, you weren't just happy, you were happier. 

He slams his door shut, sliding down the wooden surface as he feels his legs give underneath him.

‘Can’t you see? They were never the problem. No matter what you do, you could never satisfy them. Once again you've proved to be useless.’

‘You think they’d just be swayed by your face? By the number of followers you have? Underneath it all you're nothing. It's just pathetic.’

He shook his head, gripping and pulling on his delicate sand blonde hair. No matter how hard he cupped his hands over his ears, their words never ceased. His eyes pricked with tears, months of silent torture finally finding his moment of weakness.  

You on the other hand were beyond worried. You were no stranger to Asmo’s flamboyant walk outs but this was different. As you neared the door to his room, you could hear silent sobs and cries on the other side. Knocking softly, you worriedly call out to him.

“Asmo?” The sobbing stops, rendering the halls eerily silent. “Darling, what’s wrong? Can I come in?” Still no response. 

Asmo freezes at the sound of your voice, the loud thumping of his heart drowning out the constant knocking on his door. An internal conflict rages within him. Not only is the person causing all this mess of emotions on the other side of the door, but the only one who can make it all go away as well. 

“Please talk to me. I need to know that you’re alright.” Just as you’re deciding if you should get some help from the others, the door opens. From it, a hand grabs your wrist, swiftly pulling you inside and closing the door. 

Looking around, the usually bright and pinkish room was cold and dark. You could barely see anything with the only light coming from his window. 

The crisp silence of the night was cut by the uneven breathing of Asmo who was still by the door. You reach out to gently place a hand on his shoulder. 

“Sweetie?” you call, fingertips only a few milliliters away, when his voice stops you in your tracks. 

“Do you love me?” he whispers. 

“Of course I do,” you answer immediately, not missing a beat. 

You gently grab him by the shoulder and turn him to face you, your heart breaking at the sight of your lover being in so much turmoil. 

“Oh, Asmo…” your hand tenderly holds his cheek, the other wiping away the tears that have yet to cease from falling. 

“Each day, I hear another rumor about you finding somebody else…” he pauses, taking a deep shuddering breath. “If you’re going to do it, please just do it already and save me the mascara.”

He knows that watching you leave will hurt more than any hangover can ever do to him. It would be like he was falling from the pristine white gates of Celestia again, powerless as he saw all he held dear fade into a memory of what he had once had.

He could try to convince himself that the rumors were true. That you were only ever with him for his fame and looks and that he never cared about you. But of all the lies that have circulated, that would have been the biggest one.

“Honey, I’m not leaving you. Not now, not ever,” you say as you tuck a lock behind his ear. “If you think I’d ever love someone after you then I have failed in showing you how much you mean to me.”

Through blurred vision, Asmo tries to find an ounce of deceit within the windows to your soul; a malicious grin, a break in eye contact, a drop of sweat. Nothing. 

He lets out a shuddering breath he didn’t know he was holding, pressing his soft hands upon your own and interlacing it with his. It was stupid of him to ever doubt your feelings for him. To hell with what they thought of the both of you. All he cared about now was now, being here in your hold, forever.

“You’re so cute sometimes, darling…" he whispers in amusement, a small smile finally making its way onto his lips. 

“Please tell me I still look fabulous even after all that tears. Ugh, my eyes are gonna be so puffed up tomorrow!” 

You chuckle at his comment, happy to see him start coming back to you. “Still ever so stunning, My Prince.”

“Let’s stay like this for just a bit more, hm? All this crying made me tired. Then after, we can run a nice warm bath for the two of us. Doesn't that sound wonderful?” He murmured, melting more into your touch.  

“Whatever you’d like, darling,” you replied, pressing your forehead to his. 

And there you stayed, forehead to forehead, hands intertwined, just you and him in the comfort of each other's touch.

AN: Thanks a bunch for reading!! Would love to hear your thoughts in the comments <33

[tsumuus]

crushing on you | pretty setters i.

a/n short headcanons on if the pretty setters had a crush on you. only my fav three so far, will do the other three soon

characters atsumu miya, toru oikawa, keiji akaashi

masterlist

atsumu miya

you and atsumu had been friends since middle school

you were always one of his closest friends

someone he could rely on and have fun w no matter what

it wasn't until high school that he started to notice his feelings shift

he started to become more competitive around you

showing off 24/7

constantly teasing you

using humor to mask his feelings towards you

however he gets very noticeablely flustered if you tease him back

he starts becoming more attentive to your needs

offering to carry your things from time to time

but he does it in a way that seems so casual idek how

his eyes light up whenever you enter the room

he texts you a lot

usually nothing with to much meaning, he just looks for any excuse to talk to you

he invites you to all his games

he sits with you and your friends during lunch pretty frequently

but often gets lost in conversation with you that you two forget your friends are there too

he struggles with his feelings for months

not sure how to deal with em

hes so used to being confident, but this feeling is new to him

he confides in osamu first

osamu is quick to tease but gives him solid advice

just urging 'tsumu to be honest with you

toru oikawa

the two of you met during your first year

instantly clicking

like yall have the same humor and interests

he initially just saw you as a friend

but over time that changed

it was when he finally noticed how different you were from everyone else in his life

like your support and genuine care for him made him see you in a new light

he's more charming and filrty than he was in the beginning of your friendship

like he still has his usual playful demeanor but its accompanied by a hint of nervousness

he tries to impress you all the time

always looking at you to see your reaction towards anything he does

super protective of you

always checking in on you and stepping in if anyone bothers you

hes always finding excuses to be near you

whether its walking you to class of hanging out after practice

he sends you goodmorning and goodnight texts fs

along with random messages throughout the day

loves taking selfies with you

using it as an excuse to be close and capture moments together

he keeps his feelings hidden for a long time

afraid of ruining your friendship and appearing vulnerable

if he were to ask someone for advice it would likely be Iwaizumi

maybe even his sister

they'd both give him a reality check and encourage him to be honest to you about his feelings

keiji akaashi

you and akaashi have been friends since childhood

growing up in the same neighborhood and attending the same schools

hes always admired you for your kindness and intelligence

but he didn't realize his feelings were more than platonic until high school

he's always been attentive

but since he's realized his feelings, he starts to notice the little things about you

remembering details you mention, all the little facts about you and yoru life, etc.

he offers to help you with homework and projects

as an excuse to spend more time with you

he's known for his calm and compsed demeanor

but whenever he's around you

he becomes softer

smiling more often and showing a more gentle side of him

he likes to walk you home from school whenever he can

enjoying the quiet moments and your company

he writes you thoughtful notes and occasionally leaves small gifts

like your favorite snacks or books he thinks you'd like

gives you his full attention on everything

listening intently whenever you talk

offering the best advice or support when you need it

he keeps his feelings to himself for a long time

he fears being rejected and doesn't want to risk losing you as a friend

he eventually confides in bokuto

who is super enthusiastic when he tells akaashi to just go for it (he's seen the way you look at akaashi whenever he stops by akaashis class during lunch)

[melloollem]

Before The Great Fall|| Jason Todd (Robin) × No reader gender

Summary: You and Jason have become friends because you have a habit of walking around the city at night and Robin has a habit of taking you home.

Warnings: Comfort, teenage Jason Todd, slight flirting (The relationship is much more of a friendship), English is not my native language.

(DC masterlist)

"Where are you going so late?" A sudden voice said, making you stop abruptly and look up, trying to find its speaker, Robin. You wondered if Batman forced him to train that voice, it was so distinctive.

"Aren't you too young to be walking alone so late?" You hadn't found him yet, but now he seemed to be coming from a different, closer place. You turned your head in various directions trying to find him. "Aren't you too young to go out at night to beat up criminals?" You retorted, already frustrated by his behavior, wondering if he was going to show up.

"I'm here" Jason was enjoying how lost you looked. Before you had a chance to locate him, he dashed to your side, you turned away abruptly at the sudden appearance, the boy laughed, it was something that never lost its funny "It's never too early to start fighting crime" His voice tried to copy some kind of charm, the kind seen in movies. Now it was your turn to laugh. "If you say so," you shrugged, finding Jason's behavior hilarious.

Your reaction confused him, had you liked it? He dismissed the question with a shake of his head. "So... where are you going?" You thought about giving him an acid answer, but gave up because of how interested he seemed. "Flat tire," you said with a sigh of defeat. Jason's gaze fell on the bicycle you were carrying next to your body. It was so old that he wondered if it had really worked before the flat tire. You raised an eyebrow as you realized how much he was staring at the object in your hand.

The vigilante grabbed your bike and turned the other way. Your eyes followed the scene with attention and displeasure. "Are you going home" He answered your silent question, receiving a roll of the eyes from you. "There's no crime going on? Do you really need to keep an eye on me?" You haven't moved an inch.

"It's Gotham, it probably is" He shrugged simplistically "But tonight this is my area and if you're in it, I have to make sure you're safe" You didn't want to go home, but there was no point in arguing with Robin or he'd win, or his defeat wouldn't matter and you'd do as he said. You let out a sigh before hurrying to catch up with him. "If some super villain is following you and I'm about to die tonight, I hope you die with me," you complained walking alongside him, Robin laughed.

The two of you walked in silence. Now that you no longer had to look around, you let your thoughts take over, but Robin snapped you out of it by asking, "Where were you going so late?" You rolled your eyes at how insistent he could be. A stupid grin took over your face as you said, "I was going after crime, I'm..." You couldn't think of a hero's name fast enough to complete your joke.

"If you're a crime fighter, you'll lack appropriate attire" He looked you up and down, and you found his insinuation a little offensive. " Said Robin in his underwear," you whispered, but it didn't go unnoticed by him, who pushed you slightly with his body. His first choice of look hadn't been the best, whatever, Couldn't you forget that?

"I'm just kidding," you said when you noticed the boy's new bad mood, but your voice still sounded provocative. It was your favorite pastime to get on the vigilante's nerves.

"Answer my question" You rolled your eyes. "You're very nosy, don't you think?" Before he had a chance to respond, you added, "I didn't have an exact destination, I just went out to think for a while." Robin's eyes went down to your hands and the anxious way you waved them.

He hated the way that whenever things got bad at home, you left for Gotham without considering the dangers. He wanted to say something comforting about your family situation, but he knew you'd only get uncomfortable and try to change the conversation.

"You shouldn't do that, it's dangerous," Jason scolded you, even though he knew it wouldn't change your attitude. You couldn't walk around the city thinking that he would always show up to save you in any situation, you only believed that because it was what had been happening for months.

"Why not? That's how we met, you should be grateful to finally have some friends" You returned to your amused tone. He narrowed his eyes at how astute you were at changing the topic, but decided to let it go.

"You're not part of my personal life, why do you always assume that I don't have any other friends?" The answer came out in a monotone, he didn't know why he was still trying to fight you. "Who would want to be friends with a boy who goes out at night to fight crime? That's a sign of insanity to me," you said as if it were obvious.

"I don't think you understand the meaning of secret identity" He used his free hand to point at the mask covering his face, and you decided not to answer him.

The journey went smoothly, soon you'd be home. Jason thought you wouldn't say anything the whole way, but you did. "Do you think there's any chance of me getting out of Gotham?" The way you looked at him surprised Jason, like someone who thought he really had the answer to everything.

"Maybe, well, do you really want that?" The way his voice sounded more natural didn't go unnoticed by you. "I wish, but it seems that no one can escape Gotham, really escape." The simplicity of your speech made your lack of hope evident.

"Gotham has the lowest real estate prices in the region" Jason justified the phenomenon. You raised an eyebrow, expecting something more motivating from him, shouldn't he be a hero?

"You can be the one to change that" That was the wittiest and most realistic thing he could say, you accepted it gladly, at least he had tried.

"At least, if I stay, you'll have some friends" You brushed aside the seriousness of the conversation, not prepared to deal with it. He laughed quickly, with no chance to retort before he heard a call in his ear. You recognized the tension in his face, knowing there was some crime going on nearby.

"I'm in." You caught his attention, pointing your head towards your apartment, which was just ahead of you. "You can go." You took his bike and continued on your way. "Be careful, Robin." You shouted without bothering to look back, knowing he wasn't there.

＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿

This writing is intended to imitate those movies in which the characters just walk around while having a dynamic and intimate conversation. I hope you enjoy the relationship I build with Jason.

[un-lawliet]

“Unspoken”

— in which Dazai’s kiss contradicts his words.

(or reader tries to move on, fails and Dazai picks up the pieces)

Shin Nakatani was nothing like Osamu Dazai, you concluded.

Perhaps that’s why you were sat in the corner of some grubby bar, listening to his proclamations of self acclaimed greatness whilst you sipped at a (now bitter) beer, refusing to make eye contact with the man.

Osamu Dazai, never spoke about himself, sacrificing a genuine exploration of his true thoughts and feelings for charming smiles tainted with an overdramatic flair.

By comparison, you think, you’d much prefer the empty conversations you had with Dazai, over the overbearing false confidence oozing from the man beside you.

His mouth moved in a manner that did not wait for you to divulge. Unrelenting, flapping jaws reminding you of how lucky you were that such a “tired looking woman” was so “endearing enough” for him to give you a chance.

You don’t even know what that means, eyebrows furrowed as you processed the insult, hating how you silently relished in the honesty of his voice.

At least you were talking to someone who did not hide true intentions behind confusing actions and unsaid truths.

You bite the inside of your mouth, and embrace the seething sting of pain, punishing yourself for your constant comparison.

You were not here to think about Dazai, you were here to move on, to avoid the constant, overbearing ache in your chest that came with acceptance that Dazai, could never reciprocate your unspoken feelings.

And so you shuffled in your battered bar stool, the creaking below forcing you out of your thoughts and back to the lost conversation.

The bars light was dim, hollowing out the faces of all those who sat within its dullness, shadows chasing out the warmth and leaving seemingly lifeless, drunk husks of people.

“…And of course one should ask where I get the time to balance both work and steady relationships.”

“Uh huh..”

“And I would tell the fool who asks the same thing I’ll tell you…I do it by combining the two!”

“Yea?”

“To me, relationships are like business, both transactional, both just as give or take as the other.”

You awkwardly look up at him, he winks and you feel sick.

“Of course.” You offer, wishing you could bite your tongue of instead of agreeing blindly to his vulgar beliefs.

He continues in his crudeness, and you glance at your phone, staring at the time.

00:37

You want to go home.

Clearing your throat, you fold in on yourself when he pauses mid sentence to look you in the eye, his brow inclining.

“It’s um late, I have work in the morning…” You trail off and inwardly die when a flicker of exasperation dances in the movement in his changing expression.

“Would you mind walking me to the train station?” You scramble, trying to save yourself from the awkward stillness that follows.

He nods and you both move to leave, he walks in front of you and you watch the back of his head as he continues to talk.

He has a mole on his neck, it peeks out at you from behind the collar of his shirt, you count the freckles behind his ear and wonder if he even knew they were there.

In your opinion, Yokohama was beautiful at night.

More lively. Cluttered with different people doing different things, every passing face appeared more open when followed by moonlight.

The streets lined themselves with opposing humans with different names and contrasting history’s, and yet, they all looked the same when shadowed.

You’re nearing the train station, although you knew there would be no train waiting for you past Midnight, Nakatani, in all his drunken glory, did not seem to realise this, instead he had slowed his pace, allowing you to keep pace with his wide strides. A prologue to a goodbye.

A woman bumps into you pushing you towards your date, he laughs, the sound vibrates brazenly in your ears and you smile because you don’t know what else to do.

“Can I kiss you?” He’s saying, holding your shoulder, “As a reward for a long journey.”

You want to remark that the walk only took five minutes, the time on your phone reading 00:42, but you don’t.

Instead you nod and turn to him, watching as his rosy gloating face gets closer to your own.

.

.

.

There’s a horrible tongue in your mouth.

It curls around and smooths the underside of your teeth, mapping out the area of your gums and you cringe, your nose scrunching.

He tastes of cheap liquor and cigarettes, you feel yourself dizzying from past nicotine breathing down your throat, burning your lungs as you inhale him.

Your choke and step away, wiping your wet lips as you do, recoiling in the after taste, spluttering out fake broken apologies.

“I just remembered..” You hesitate grasping for words that appear to be stuck in your raw throat, “I can’t kiss you.”

“Excuse me?” He replies, you see his broken ego in the darkening of his eyes as he names you a bitch and looks you up and down.

“I’m sorry Nakatani, that was a horrible kiss.” You state, words falling out of your vile tasting mouth, the alcohol on your breath forgetting to filter kindness into your speech. “I um… can’t kiss you.”

“Well your not too nice to kiss either, don’t think this was anything more than charity work.” He hisses back, teeth bared. You think he looks like a dog.

“Then, you should consider better ways to help charity, Mr Nakatani.” You breathe, unable to add enough insult into your voice. Your stuttering, shame ploughing it’s way through your body, you want to throw up.

He’s cursing at you, face flushed with alcohol and embarrassment, and then he’s turning and walking away, he sways with the whisper of the wind and you suddenly feel quite drunk yourself.

It surges and you gag, turning to face the crumbling wall beside you, shaky hands clamping over your mouth as you relive the kiss only moments prior.

You feel sick, you want to go home.

There’s a street light beside you, it flickers when you sit against it, eyes staring out into the docks Yokohama, the sea, a black pool before you.

The waves carry the moon as they crash amongst each other, ripples of reflection morphing to produce a white highlighted stream, stopping the merging of a black sky and sea.

You rub a hand over your face, letting the skin under your eyes drag downwards before you let your hand fall to rest on the ground.

There’s no stars, it must be cloudy tonight.

Shin Nakatani was nothing like Osamu Dazai. Perhaps that why you’re now alone, sitting on a wet footpath, in the crux of a cloudy, cold night, thinking about him instead.

You sigh, and watch as your breath materialises into smoke before you, fading into the darkened dusk, carried by a breeze of which you could not seem to feel.

Your superficial affection for Dazai may not be built upon the foundations of shared interest, but God was it a hard wall to knock down.

You just can’t seem to move on from the man, despite his every action being one that pushed you away again and again.

You brush a tiny spider from your thigh, you don’t see where it lands, eyes too focused on the bitten nails found on the tips of your cool fingers.

“Excuse me! The pretty lady on the ground!”

You seem freeze, your head falling backwards to hit the street lamp behind you.

Of course he would find you like this, huddled pathetically on the side of a road wallowing in self pity.

He stops just in-front of you, bending down to look you in your eye, an grin plastered across his face, you almost huff at the irony of his appearance.

“Hello Dazai.” You mumble, blinking up at him, weak light reflects off his features, b across the stretched apples of his cheeks making it appear like he’s glowing.

“You’re on the ground.” He muses, standing upright, looking down on you, a view he much preferred.

You don’t reply, choosing instead to simply look away, ignoring the palpitations of your heart. Vulnerability silencing your words as you swallow the remnants of your horrible, horrible kiss.

Dazai looks at you, his eyes moving across your painted face, glancing sideways to an empty street, solidifying your aloneness, his expression morphs into one of acute understanding before it vanishes in the execution of a trained smile.

You don’t see his smile, but you take his momentary silence as one of accurate assessment.

You think his quietness is more deadly than his usual entourage of sharp one liners that encase each conversation shared with him.

You wipe your mouth again.

“..I’m on the ground.” You conclude, stretching your legs in-front of you, eyes remaining on the scuffed tips of your battered shoes. “I’m um just sitting to catch my breath Dazai, you can..you can leave, you don’t need to stay.” Your words come out whispered, and you think they sound cruel when you taste them on your tongue.

“But your gloom is so blatant my dear!” The man before you guffaws, his volume far exceeding your own, “How could a gentleman like myself leave you here to rot in your own misery!”

You glance up at him and he’s clutching his heart through the layers of his coat, head raised in a substantial showing of himself.

You rub your eyes, you feel the makeup on your lashes smudge.“You’re giving me a headache.”

“How cruel of you to say!”

“Dazai.”

“Hm?”

“Please, go away.”

He’s smiling, he’s smiling at your words and you want to rip your eyes out as an atonement for ever believing you could see “authenticity” in his grin.

You’re tired, and Dazai knows, he knows everything. You’re sick of his unspoken understanding.

You hear a wave crash along the far side of a ship, it crashes into a dock and vibrates the ground on which you sat.

It’s bitterly cold, your teeth chatter in your jaws, you clamp them shut, and look away again.

“I’m assuming it was a date then?” Dazai’s watching you closer now, eyes flitting across the slight tremor in your lip as you nod.

“Leaving a beautiful woman by herself in the dark, he mustn’t have been that interesting.”

“He said I looked tired”

“You do.” His voice sounds strangely empty, the blank sky above you holding more substance, the crinkle of his eyes seems forced now, as if struck by realisation.

You don’t know what to say, so you resort to saying nothing, focusing on the blinking of your eyes, and the rise and fall of your chest. Dazai watches as you breathe.

The hands in his pockets are tainted red across the knuckles, his finger tips too. Bandages seemingly useless in combating the perils of an approaching winter, Dazai doesn’t mind.

He joins you in your silence as he steps towards you and kneels down, shoes scrapping across the hard ground, it looks like he’s falling to his knees.

“You’re stuck in self pity.” He states, his voice sounds bored, eyes narrowed. Embarrassment clings to the curve of your waist and trails it’s way up to your face, you blink and look towards the source.

His nose is slightly reddened, but his expression does not falter, does not reveal any rhyme or reason, nor a motive to why he’s not leaving.

You try to dissect his thoughts in your mind, cutting him open and trying to stare through the black pools of his eyes to try reach the core.

Instead you find you can’t, there’s a steel wall preventing you from prying, you grow frustrated and Dazai just watches.

“Self pity is a nightmare.” You almost think he whispers it.

You want to reach out and touch his face, follow the curve of his lips right up the hair framing his hollowed face.

“Can..can I hold your hand?” Your timid, pathetic, needing to be held to stabilise yourself, how did you get so weak.

There’s a pause, Dazai stiffens, it’s just barely noticeable but you see it, you’ve caught him off guard with your boldness.

Dressed up to impress another man and yet, it’s him you ask to cling to in the blackened equidistant of the night.

Slowly, as if approaching prey, Dazai lifts his hand out of his pocket, his eyes never leaving your face as he presents his hand.

You grasp it, hold it.

You think the ground would be more pleasing to touch.

It’s obvious he’s uncomfortable, he can’t push you away when you’ve captured him like this, but for the sake of the expanding the mask he’s crafted after years of desolate numbness, he says nothing about the way your hand tightens around his.

“And what would your date say about this hm? Do you usually hold the hands on another after being with another man?” He muses, you think his smile looks cold.

“It’s not a habit.” You mumble, your thumb tracing the line where his bandages end; they’re new, the implications make you feel sick.

The ground where his knee sits digs into his flesh, stones pressing into the skin of his knee, but he does not move, he’s almost statuesque.

You frown, at him, the reasoning behind his words falling onto your ears. “Don’t judge me Dazai.” You mutter, words sounding far more harsh when spoken out-loud.

“I wasn’t.” It’s simple.

Dazai’s quiet when he lies, at least you can walk away having learned something new about the man who holds your hand but drops your heart.

“I-I’m just sad.” Your shoulder deflate, his hand tighten around yours for a split second, you think you imagined it.

“Then.” He starts, dullness oozing out of his voice, “If you’re so miserable why not join me in a double suicide, I’m sure it would be far more romantic than this.” He removes his hand from yours and stands, forcing his hand back into his pocket, you miss how he flexes it, as if holding back a truth he cannot speak.

His smile is ugly, so ugly that it’s pushing you away, forcing your head to look the other way, to not watch the man hiding his inner downfall infront if you. Dazai’s eye twitches, and his mask cracks for a moment.

A building nearby turns its lights off, you see the silhouettes of two people, working the closing shift, they laugh as they pull down the shudders before the door, and turn to walk together, in the opposite direction, none the wiser to the two people sat watching them from afar.

“Don’t do that Dazai.” You start, your clawing onto the remains of an awkward conversation, trying to force it back to life, ignoring how his words made your heart stop in the hollowed captivity of your chest. “Please, not now.”

Your begging he realises, begging for a true moment with him.

But he won’t give you that, to think otherwise is foolish.

However, as he watches your trembling figure, foolish is the only way he can describe you. The grotesque smile falls from his face and onto the dirty ground of which he stands and you sit.

“Struck a nerve?” Dazai queries, he sounds bored again, you hate yourself.

“Sorry, sorry.” You repeat, eyes swimming with poorly expressed expression. “I’m just..selfish and lonely tonight.” You’re confessing, as if he himself is a God, nihilism forgotten in the shaking of your voice.

“I just wanted to feel connected with someone without having to beg for it”

The meaning of your words crumbles in the silence that follows, dancing across the distance between the pair of you, from your mouth to his ear.

“Ah.” A soft smile of understanding crosses his features, you jump when he turns on his heel, “Then I am not suited for his conversation.”

“I’ll call Kunikida, he’s more inclined for situations like this than I.” He’s walking, he’s walking and you’re watching and you feel yourself rip at the seams, you need to know if there’s a chance, a chance he might care. You fight the will to keep yourself composed and your desperation comes out triumphant.

You’re stupid, he knows of your affections, yet he leaves every-time.

“I kissed him.”

The air melts into a bitter, silent breeze, you fear you might have just pushed a boundary, reaching forward with your eyes closed, crossing a line you could not see.

Dazai stops.

He doesn’t know why he stops.

He does not care for your love, he does not reciprocate, he refuses to. You don’t know him, your love is not his to accept, it acts as a maladaptive pining for a man, a human, for which he cannot claim, less he wear a fake suit presenting as himself.

And yet, you kissed another man, and the chilly motions of the wind blowing across his stagnant face whisper to him that he’s bothered by this, blowing into his ear, mocking him for being, despite everything; as humanly selfish as you.

Perhaps he’s bothered by your lack of self-respect, kissing a man you were so clearly uninterested in in your vain search for connection, but he turns and looks at you, and feels in his soul, that he’s lying to himself.

It’s a realisation that leaves him as bitter as the atmosphere encasing the pair of you.

“And?” He speaks as if it’s a secret, as if him prying was a sin, and he omnipotent.

“It wasn’t you.”

The small movement of his head betrays how much he wants to look away, forcing himself to stare you out, to intimidate you into walking away.

You’re brave tonight, he thinks.

“I don’t hate you Osamu.” You breathe.

You can’t breathe, too preoccupied with staring, truly staring at his face, wondering if maybe, just maybe, he would listen to you should you get to his level.

You stand up, he stays where he is.

“Are you expecting reciprocation?” He moves to checkmate, his voice heard like a warning, his eyes reading as empty.

You shake your head, and bite the skin on your lips.

“I just needed to know that you heard me.”

Dazai throws his head back and laughs, it fills the void of sea and sky and you shake at the cruel sound. To an outsider it may appear as if he’s brimming with joy, unable to hide its serene hold on him. But you’re too close to mistake his laughter as anything but uncomfortable.

“And tell me.” He breathes through his laughter, his hand placed on his stomach, “Did you hate him? Hate the kiss?”

Shame burns your cheeks, and you look to your shoes again as heat floods your face.

Your king was dead, you’d been defeated.

“It was like a slug in my mouth.” You muse.

Eventually he stops laughing, and your world returns to normal. Silent and unchanging, you count the intervals between the sounds of the waves.

Dazai is untouchable again. Everything is back to how it was.

“Shall I take you out drinking too then hm? Then I’ll kiss you properly and we shall never speak again.”

You don’t answer, thwarted by the maze of his twisted personality.

“Did you hear me?” He mocks, his smile sly, you want to rip it off his mendacious face.

He’s pushing you away, the distance between you extending far beyond your reach, you falter with the consequential loss of your friendship with Dazai.

You don’t know what to say, your words can’t create a bridge to combat the vehement river of “unsure’s, so instead you shake your head, arms moving up to embrace yourself.

Dazai is quiet when he lies, however he’s silent when he’s unsure.

And when you don’t respond he narrows honeyed eyes, an uncertainty you don’t see flickers across his pupils and fractures the disciplined facade of his character.

He’s pushing you away, and for once he feels hesitant.

He’s forced you away timelessly, but you’re still looking at him, with that foolish soft look in your eye. And Dazai wants to smudge it off your features and chastise you for regarding him in such a tender manner.

He says nothing, but raises his hand once more, presenting it you.

The street is empty, nobody but Dazai present to witness how your eyes widen and your head tilts, confused.

Your emotions bleed out onto your face, staining the crease of your eyes with hurt, your lips pouting in trepidation.

And you hold his hand in yours, it’s stiff, it’s awkward, but it’s an unspoken viaduct into his psyche, your heart soars.

“Despite everything..I really don’t hate you, you know?” You’re speaking dangerously again, pulling him towards you despite his childish resilience towards trust.

His hand tightens, you’re sure of it this time.

“Ask me.” He mumbles, pulling you closer, your feet nudge his, your nose almost touching his shirt when you look up at him. “Ask me to kiss you.”

“Osamu-” His face is half encased with shadow, the glow from the street light failing to fully show him to you. You breathe and he feels it on his chin.

You don’t understand, your stuck in parallel to his contradictions, frantically scanning for the root of his intention, hands balling into fists when you can’t find it amongst the fog.

His hand comes up and tilts your head upwards, leaning down towards you, your nose touching his as you bite your tongue.

Time slows, and you whisper, it comes out meek.

“Kiss me, please.”

It’s instantaneous to your request. His bottom lip brushes against yours, and he’s on you like fire to oil.

His hand spreads out against your cold cheek, pulling you closer, his middle finger finding rest on the lobe of your ear.

He kisses you as if he wants to. As if he’s making a sick point to the man who had previously stolen your breath within the same night.

He breathes you in, and you breathe him out.

You want him to swallow you whole, right there and then on the side of the street, hidden away from the rest of the world.

You almost cry when he pulls away, eyes glistening as you look at him once more.

His spit is on your lip and you query, “Was that a-”

“It was a kiss.” He doesn’t let you finish, pushing his palm into your cheek, watching as you let your head move gently with the force.

Your unspoken question dies in the removal of his hand, and is reborn when he doesn’t not walk away immediately, hands stuck back in tattered pockets as he smiles, and for a second, a split second you see him as a boy, with fear breaching the walls of his eyes.

It vanishes instantly, disappearing with the climaxing waves behind you.

You try to recall the genuine look in you mind, try to pinpoint the vulnerability you had seen for a moment, but you lose sight of it as he claps his hands.

“Now, the night is still young my dear, I must be off.” His personified joy hits you like a raindrop hits a petal, and you stare, as if in a daze as he steps back, away from you.

“Oh- ok?” You grasp at anything to say, anything to reassure you that everything was ok.

He smiles, and nudges your arm, you can’t tell if he’s being himself anymore.

He going, and your left with the sickly sense of hope swimming in your chest, drowning amongst your spoken affections.

“Safe home!” He calls, his voice light, revealing nothing, and leaving you with less.

There was nobody in the world like Osamu Dazai, and perhaps that’s why you turned and began to walk home, alone.

masterlist <3

feel free to leave a request !

a/n: beep boop bop im tired- i hope this made sense, i just love the cruelty of dazais character <3 (can you tell) anyway reminder i love you and that you’re doing ok !!! ALSO shin nakatani was named using a random name generator i found on google and i think that’s very funny, my cat is sitting on my chest as i type this, it’s hard to write when you can’t move all that much :,)

[anniebeemine]

Birthday Blues- s.r. x fem!reader

Written specially for @godsfavdarling ! Happy belated birthday, dear! I hope you enjoy!!

Warnings: None :)

Another year had come and gone.

You sat at your desk, the exhaustion from the recent case weighing heavily on you. It wasn't just the brutality of the crime that had taken its toll; it was also the realization that your birthday had come and gone without so much as a mention. Growing up, they were often overlooked, a mere afterthought in the hustle and bustle of life. But you had hoped that maybe this year, someone would remember and make it special. As the day had passed, there was no acknowledgement, no surprise, nothing to suggest that it was different from any other day. You never tried to remind anyone, afraid that it would be forgotten anyway and it would only hurt more.

As you and Spencer walked to his car, he held your hand, giving it a comforting squeeze, but the silence between you was palpable. You wished he would say something, but he remained quiet, lost in the aftermath of the case. No one had asked about your birthday plans, and no one had offered any.

When you finally arrived home, you felt a mix of relief and disappointment. Spencer followed you inside, his eyes scanning the room as if searching for something. "You shower first," he said gently, his voice breaking the silence. "I'll wait."

You nodded, too tired to argue. The hot water was soothing, washing away the grime and blood of the past few days. But it couldn't wash away the melancholy that settled in your heart. You couldn't help but feel a little let down. As you dried off and wrapped yourself in a towel, you took a deep breath and prepared to face another evening of quiet companionship, pushing aside your disappointment.

When you stepped out of the bathroom, the lights in the living room were dimmed, and Spencer was already asleep on the couch, a book resting on his chest. You felt a pang of sadness but decided to leave it be. You didn’t want to wake him. Instead, you grabbed a blanket and gently covered him, pressing a soft kiss to his forehead before heading to bed alone.

The next morning, you woke up to find Spencer already gone. Your heart sank, and tears welled up in your eyes as you sat on the edge of the bed. It felt like another reminder that your birthday had been forgotten. You tried to push the sadness aside as you went through your morning routine, but the tears kept coming. You spent the morning cleaning up the apartment, trying to distract yourself from the lingering disappointment. As you were wiping down the kitchen counter, the front door opened, and Spencer walked in, carrying a small box and a bouquet of your favorite flowers.

"Hey," he said softly, his eyes immediately finding yours. "What’s going on?”

You wiped your eyes quickly, trying to hide your tears. "I was just... cleaning up."

Spencer set the flowers and box down on the counter and walked over to you, concern etched on his face. "Y/N, what's wrong?"

You shook your head, unable to hold back the tears any longer. "I just... I thought maybe someone would remember my birthday. No one asked, no one planned anything. I was hoping you might... but you didn't say anything last night."

Spencer's expression softened, and he pulled you into his arms. "Oh, Y/N, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to make you feel forgotten. I wanted to surprise you."

He stepped back and handed you the box. With trembling hands, you opened it to find a delicate, shiny bracelet, a single charm dangling from it. The charm was a small heart, engraved with the words, "Always in my heart."

"It's beautiful," you whispered, looking up at Spencer with teary eyes.

He took the bracelet from your hand and gently fastened it around your wrist. "You mean everything to me, Y/N. I wanted to make today special, even if it’s a little late."

You glanced at the flowers and then back at Spencer, feeling a mix of emotions. "Thank you, Spencer. This means more than you know."

He kissed your forehead softly. "I love you, Y/N. I'm sorry if I made you feel like I didn't. I could never forget your birthday."

You leaned into his embrace, feeling a sense of peace and contentment wash over you. It wasn't about the grand gestures or extravagant surprises. It was about the love and thoughtfulness behind the actions. Spencer had remembered, and he had made your birthday special in his own unique way.

"We have dinner reservations," he said with a warm smile. "I hope you're hungry."

You nodded, feeling a flutter of excitement in your chest. Spencer took your hand, and you both got ready for the evening. As you drove, you noticed that he was taking a route far out of the way from your usual places.

"Where are we going?" you asked, curiosity piqued.

Spencer just smiled. "You'll see."

After a while, you pulled up to an elegant, intimate restaurant that you had never been to before. The ambiance was perfect, with soft lighting and a romantic atmosphere. You couldn't help but feel a rush of emotions as you realized how much thought Spencer had put into this evening.

The staff greeted you warmly, and you were seated at a cozy table near the window. Fancy wine was brought to the table, and you shared a toast with Spencer, feeling the warmth of his love and care. The dinner was exquisite, each course more delicious than the last. As dessert arrived, you were surprised to see it adorned with sparklers, the flickering lights making you smile despite yourself. 

After dinner, Spencer held your hand as you walked back to the car. The emotions of the day began to overwhelm you, and you felt tears streaming down your face.

"Y/N, what's wrong?" Spencer asked, his voice full of concern.

You shook your head, unable to speak at first. "It's just... you're so sweet, Spencer. This whole evening, everything you've done... I feel so loved."

Spencer pulled you into his arms, holding you tightly. "You are loved, sweetheart. More than you know. I wanted to make sure you knew that, especially today." 

As he comforted you, you felt the sadness and disappointment melt away, replaced by a profound sense of gratitude and love. Spencer had gone out of his way to make your birthday special, and you couldn't have asked for a more perfect evening.

He kissed you softly, his lips lingering on yours. "Happy birthday.”

[readbyred]

Hi :)

Heard you were accepting dps requests so what about a charlie fic

I feel like charlie is the type of person to flirt with everyone and ask anyone he finds attractive out except when it comes to the person he actually has feelings for so what about charlie x reader where reader has been waiting since before they graduated for him to ask her out and as soon as she decides to move on charlie gets all sad and jealous and confesses and yknow how it goes

Would love to see this in a fic ♡

Not a fic blog (maybe someday), but I can give you a headcanon (so, shorter and no dialogue) though… I did get a bit inspired, so its longer than my usual writing

I think as a teen he was the sort of person to try and prove he’s popular with people. It would feel bad to lump you in with that. Like, he actually liked you, so it's different. Not that he has no respect for people he flirts with, but he knows it isn't anything serious. He was just a teen guy trying to impress his friends and get the experience he was prevented from getting (with his strict school and all). Especially with his position in the friend group and all.

Still, he hoped to have something serious with you one day. One day when he gets the courage, when he feels like it will work out and he won't jeopardize the whole friend group because of his crush.

But that day didn't come when he was at Welton. Then he had other things to worry about, considering his departure from the school. It was a hard time for everybody. But no matter the odds the poets kept in touch, as much as they could. And that included you.

Only, as years passed you started losing hope. I mean, if he wanted to he would, right? It felt so helplessly pathetic to be waiting for Charlie when it seemed that he had never and will never return your feelings.

When you were younger, it felt like the end of the world. Like you were destined to be alone. Oh, how many nights you’ve spent with Knox, wallowing in self-pity after Chris left him. Just sitting there with your buddy, talking about how you should go to a monastery. Not out of a spiritual need, but because there would be no one ever to love you. Guess you were a bit dramatic back then. It took Pitts many tries to smack some sense into you but you matured eventually.

When college approached, you were ready to meet new people. Although you weren't in the same school together anymore, you made a promise with the poets to keep seeing each other regularly.

Meanwhile, you met Mark. A true romantic soul with quite a witty humour. And Jack who would always treat you so sweetly and had the same interests as you. And Adam who walked you to the dorms every day. And Matt who had so much passion for life. You opened yourself up to people. Started meeting up with others.

Suddenly, you’d bring up your dates every meeting. Not to rub it in, just to recall funny moments. Like when a rainstorm caught you and Jack in the middle of a walk and you raced to the dorms. Or how you and Adam got lost in the park at night because neither of you lived in that city before. Knox would encourage you to spill every detail.

Surprisingly, the more you talked about your love life, the less you heard Charlie talk about his. By winter break you haven't heard him talk about any girl in weeks. At first you didn't notice. Then you figured that maybe he just fell for someone who wasn't as easy to charm so he didn't have anything to brag about yet.

The thought of him being so head over hills for this unnamed person made something inside you feel empty. You knew the feeling well from high school and you detested yourself for still having those sorts of thoughts and feelings. But you decided to let it all fizzle out.

You had better things to think about too. There was a ball coming around. Some fancy tradition at your university. Before you knew it, you had quite a few invitations. The sweetest one was from Jack.

He told you to close your eyes and open your palm. Then, he handed you a handcrafted note asking if you'd like to go with him. Later that day you found another one in your pocket (so that's why he told you to close your eyes) telling you he’s grateful to have you in his life. It was perfect. And officially approved by Knox Overstreet!

When you recounted the story, the guys were pretty happy for you. Before anyone could get a word in, Charlie suddenly asked if you were planning to go with Jack. Sincerely, you affirmed. Why not? He was the sweetest guy and you certainly were done moping around. I mean, you knew that Charlie wasn't going to change his mind so you could as well see if you end up liking someone else.

To your surprise, Charlie wasn't as ecstatic as the rest of the poets. He was rather skeptical and even a bit snarky. Commenting on the guy and just being so… weird about it. It angered you to no end because softly rejecting you is one thing. But trying to get in the way of you moving on? That didn't sit right with you. But your drama queen days were over, so you didn't walk off or anything. Just huffed and looked for a way to change the topic.

At the same time Charlie was thinking. Before college it was easy to reassure himself that he had all the time he wanted to make you his. And all the time he wanted to decide if he would do that at all. Everything was easier back when you didn't talk about any guys. Ever. Now he felt like he had to do something. Damn the risk of ruining the friend group. Damn the fear of rejection. And damn Knox for encouraging this mess.

The last thing you expected was for Charlie to get up suddenly. The poets all looked at him confused. When he stood up, his eyes met yours and he asked you to talk with him outside. Honest to Gods, you had no idea what that was about. But he was being dramatic (more so than usual) and something about the determination in his eyes told you to follow your friend outside. It was snowing and only buildings around you somewhat shielded you from the cold wind.

Charlie didn't waste time choosing words. For the first time when talking to a girl, he was completely raw. Just as it hit him, he blurted out his confession. No overplayed charm. No smirks and winks and cheap tricks. Just him. Charlie Dalton telling you that he likes you. That he had liked you for some time. That you should just, please, think about it.

As the last word fell from his mouth, a heavy silence fell between you. Silence colder than the wind and the snow. But Charlie stood there, undeterred, waiting to see the answer in your eyes. Even at his most frantic, he was confident. He understood that he did what he did, what it meant, and that he grasped this last chance by a miracle. There was no turning back now.

Your response first came muffled, as if the falling snowflakes were absorbing your voice. But finally, you confessed. Not without telling him, how long he made you wait. And how stupid he was acting, if he really just ignored his feelings for this long.

Your talk was tender, full of relief. But, as it happens with Charlie, as soon as the talk of real feelings was out of the way, he dragged you back inside, to announce your happy ending.

You couldn't believe he wanted to brag to your friends at a moment like this. But you just stood there, watching him with a smile. Some things never changed. Charlie certainly didn't. And you wouldn't have it any other way

[i-am-a-l0st-gh0st]

This one is inspired a bit by one of my ocs backstory but..

The reader is a transmasc person, who tries their best to hide it, trying to seem as if they were a cis man - mostly due to the overwhelming dysphoria they get. Sure, they got the top surgery but... Not the bottom one. The biggest issue was - they were having terrible periods, and I mean TERRIBLE - To the point they can't stand up from the bed, squirm in pain and vomit anytime they move. While they were able to hide it from lyney long enough, saying stuff like "I ate something bad" and other stupid excuses, lyney got clearly very worried and concerned as the same thing happened each month, even when the reader didn't seem to even eat anything close to bad. Now, the reader doesn't know how to avoid the truth, as they're crying from the immerse pain, unable to hide their misery from lyney any longer.

Boys don't cry- Lyney X transmasc!reader

I would say i'm sorry, if thought that it would change your mind. t/w- periods, vomit, headaches, cramps, dysphoria summary- As shown above

Navigation

Taglist form!

You'd been together for almost 5 months and each month you'd managed to avoid telling Lyney you were trans but for how long? Avoiding it forever was out of the question, you couldn't keep getting you period and telling him you were sick.

The only thing you could concentrate on was the unbearable feeling of needing to be sick. If you stood up you might puke everywhere... And the cramps didn't make it any better... You clutched you stomach trying to make them go away... If only that worked... Your train of thought was lost as your boyfriend walked into the room.

"Dear... This happens every month... I know for a fact it's not food poisoning. Your my boyfriend... I need to know what's wrong with you."

*Boyfriend*. You loved being called that but for some reason it stung... Tears began to form in your eyes, emotions all over the place. Lyney was shocked to see you so emotional. He hugged you tightly, rubbing your hair, bringing you close. He wanted to help... But you couldn't tell him... He would think differently of you... He would see as what you were before you were a boy.

"I'm fine Lyney, just a little sick."

"A little sick? Sweetie you can't get out of bed. I need to know what's up with you."

Lyney was stubborn... Almost as stubborn as you, he wouldn't give up. Not until you were feeling better. The cramps slowly started to get worse, causing tears to well up in your eyes. You tried to turn away from Lyney hiding your face. In response he grabbed you chin forcing you to look at him.

"Mon amour... what's wrong." His face had lost its charm and had turned, not stone cold but almost there.

"Lyney... I...I.."

"Take your time sweetie."

You couldn't tell him, he would see you as girl. You worked so hard to build a life a male. It was all going to crumble now... You felt your cheeks heat up with the feeling of vomit... You quickly got up and ran to the bathroom pushing Lyney out of the way. Knuckles turned white as you gripped he toilet bowl waiting for it to happen.

"Sweetheart! What's wrong!" Lyneys voice had become increasingly worried.

You couldn't avoid the truth any longer... It was right in front of him. He'd have to find out sooner or later.

"Lyney... I'm trans..transgender. I.. I've only gotten top surgery not bottom. So I still get my... Period."

"So that was it? Honey I still love you. You know I don't see you as any less of a man. If anything I see you as more of one. What you go through sounds painful..." His voice had calmed down now. "But why didn't you tell me?"

"Because I was scared you'd leave me.. and this dysphoria gets really bad."

"Oh mon amour... I would never leave you... Now let me take care of you."

Lyney grabbed you hand leading you back into bed, he grabbed you a heat pack placing it on your stomach. He put a bucket close to your bed, just incase you needed it.

"Anything else?" You swear you couldn't love this man anymore.

"Cuddles?'

"Anything for you, my love."

Taglist

@pandragonsoul @atsukawolfcat @keeyisbored

[zuffer-weird-girl]

Where Hawks has a pregnant wife & she delivers easily with a healthy pair of twins, boy & girl, but she has complications afterwards. It takes hours, but the doctors say that she's a fight. She does eventually recover & despite being bleary, she basically goes, "Fuck that shit, I can't leave you alone to take care of them on your lonesone. Sorry Heihei, but you're stuck with me." She calls him Heihei when he says or does something real dumb &, according to her, the idea that she'd just give up & leave him without giving whatever Reaper that comes to collect a hell of a fight was real dumb.

"One of them has wings!" He spoke with wide eyes as he watched the picture of the ultrasound on his hands... his own pair of bright red feathers flapping and puffing at the image he held between his fingers.

"The doctor said that both of them are health." You spoke with a laugh while you sat down next to him.

Considering that both of you were still young you and him had your worries when you two discovered you were pregnant after only half of year living together. But thankfully you and your husband managed to work it out, despite Keigo's constant worrying...

Your smile dropped when you saw the serious expression he wore as he placed the ultrasound picture on the coffee table.... his messy bush eyebrows furrowed as his knee bounced slightly before coming to s stop when you placed a hand over it.

"What's on your mind heihei?" He widened his eyes a bit before chuckling at the sound of the iconic nickname you had given him before sighing.

"Deja vuu I guess... my father wasn't the best with dealing with me and honestly I think he despised my wings... I just thought that... how can you treat something so... small, and fragile like that? I mean, I almost teared up at just seeing the ultrasound..." he mumbled as you cupped his cheeks to gently place a kiss.

"That's because you are different than him. And that only means what a great father you will be." You smiled at him as his frown to be replaced by a soft brown eyed gaze to look back at you.

"You do have a way with your words dove..." he mumbled on your lips before kissing sweetly "I hope that those two get your attitude."

"Oh no, I lost that hope. They probably gonna be little shit just like you." He gasped in false offense as you laughed at his mocking hurt expression.

.

.

.

He honestly thought he almost crashed the window of his agency when he received the call... he was talking with Endeavor until his phone ringed with your number on its screen... only for him to answer and not to hear your voice, but from a paramedic.

The wind blew harshly at his feathers, hair and face. But he didn't care. He didn't care if looked good or not for the public when he discovered that in the middle of work his wife was about to give birth and he was once again far away from her.

He crashed inside the hospital and ignored all the coos of his fans for once as he almost tripped when he ran to the receptionist... who also was in glee to see him despite his fearfully and anxious expression.

"Please, I received a call my wife was about to give birth, where is she? Is she okay?!"

"Oh! You and your wife will have a kid?!" She exclaimed in shock as he mentally face palmed.

It was suppose to be a secret from the media and public... he begged you to it for you to just have a moment of peace and prevent the best you both could for you to have any stress to affect the twins.

"Y-yeah where-"

"Oh my Hawks-san congratulations!" She clapped her hands in glee while he was freacking out.

"Thanks. Where is she by the way? You already know her name so-" he tried to make his nerves with a charming laugh as she asked him to wait a minute as she talked on her phone only to minutes later to give the directions.

He bowed in thanks and rushed to the said directions only to be once again stopped by nurses and doctors.

"Where is she?! Is she okay?!"

"Sir please calm down a bit-" The male nurse tried but he knly freaked out more.

"Hawks san, I'm sorry but you can't enter right now. There were some complications and your wife had to go into a emergency c-section." The doctor spoke before gently parting him on the shoulder

"What?" He breathed in horror as his legs almost gave out.

"Get him a cup of water-" She instructed the nurses "I know is difficult, but try to remain calm, we are doing everything we can to make sure both your kid and your wife get out of this situation unharmed."

"Unharmed?! What the hell even happened while I was out?!"

"Sir I can't explain to you right now, they need me inside there. Now please sit on the waiting room and try to remain calm alright? Try to call a relative if it will help you out a bit..." She spoke gently before rushing to get her clothes to get inside the room you were in as he dropped on the chair... knees blucing at high speed as he grasped at his golden hair and pulled slightly as his eyes burned.

When a nurse handled him a cup of water he almost gagged when he spoke.

"P-Please, at least tell me if my wife has any chance of losing her life... or my kids..."

The nurse frowned at the hero before sighing the dreadfully words he surely didn't wanted to hear nor helped him at all.

"I dont know Hawks san. I don't know..."

.

.

.

It honestly took just a hour after what happened but to him it seemed he was sitting on that cursed waiting room chair for years.

When the same doctor appeared and took her mask off to show him a smile he visibly relaxed but his anxieties were still high as he stood up like a lightening bolt.

"Congratulations mister number two hero. You're now the father of one girl and one boy. Both clearly healthy."

He blinked tears away before he widened his eyes once again.

"How is she? Is she..-"

"She is fine and if you want you can enter right now-" before she could finish her sentence he stormed in and sobbed at seeing your tired figure laying on the bed while holding two bundles of blankets on both fo your arms.

You were okay... you were fine...

Your tired eyes spotted him on the entrance and a small smile appeared on your lips.

"Hello there daddy." You murmured as he carefully took steps closer to you before cupping your cheeks and peppering your sweaty face with kisses as he tried to keep his tears away.

"I'm so so sorry love.. I'm sorry you had to go through that alone, I'm sorry I couldn't be here for their birth, I'm sorry that i-"

"Heh now stop being ridiculous.. you were working and I suddenly happened, that's fine." You whispered as he kissed your forehead.

"God I thought I lost you ... the nurses and doctors wouldn't tell me and I just-"

"Did you seriously thought that I would let that happen you idiot?" You laughed weakly while he frowned "I can't just leave you alone to take care of two kids all by yourself. Sorry heihei, but you are stuck with me for good. Not even the geim reaper will take me away from you."

He let out a short laugh as he nuzzle the top of your head.

"How can you joke about stuff like that so occasionally, I mean come on I thought this was my thing..." he whispered before looking down at the two newborns sleeping on your arms.

He shakily exhaled when extended his arms as you smiled at him carefully grabbing the baby girl on his arms and sweetly carrying the blanket she was bundled up to feel the two little numbs on her small back where in some time it will grow wings.

"They're so beautiful..." he whispered in awe as you rocked the boy in your arms sweetly "Just like you..."

"Just like us..." You corrected him as he was still lost looking between both his son and daughter.

"... can I name the boy Enji the second-"

"If you dare to do that I'm kicking you out of this room right now Takami Keigo." You groaned in warning as he chuckled while apologizing.

He was still considering naming your kid that though.... please don't let him.

[lesbicosmos]

day 7 of @painlandweek !!

day 7 prompt: soulmate au

summary:

it takes a while to settle down after everything that happened in port townsend. grieving niko, rescuing her, realising your feelings for your best mate might not be entirely platonic... but once they've found their new normal, the boys ask the night nurse a question about their afterlife file, which gives an answer that is both lovely and somewhat unexpected.

notes:

title from francesca by hozier

also on ao3!!

i could find you darlin', in any life

It hadn’t taken long for everyone to settle into their new routine after everything was wrapped up in Port Townsend – well, after they’d managed to find that routine, anyway. That had taken several months.

The first couple of months were slow after Crystal moved to London to join the Agency. The loss of Niko weighed heavily on everyone, and for a while they were too grief-stricken to focus on any cases for long. Edwin kept staring off into space when he was supposed to be researching, and swiftly wiped away any tears or other evidence of his emotions whenever it was brought up. Him and Crystal kept switching back and forth between amiable silence, both heavily sympathising with each other’s grief; and being at each other’s throats more than ever, every feeling heightened as their emotional walls had been worn down by the tragedy. Charles tried to comfort them as best he could, turning to his usual habits of trying to make everyone else feel better while ignoring the grief that weighed heavily on his own heart. It was difficult for everyone.

It was the Night Nurse, in the end, who was the biggest help to them. She’d been attempting to avoid them since she was assigned to help, but a couple of months in her superior had scolded her for it, insisting she be there to do her job of keeping an eye on the work they were doing. She had questioned everyone’s emotional state, spotting something was upsetting everyone. When they explained what had happened to Niko, she was surprisingly sweet about it, offering her condolences. They hadn’t expected her to check in for another two weeks, as was the arranged plan for her visits, so it was quite a shock when she returned to the office only two days later – nowhere near as shocking, though, as the information she brought with her. Being 17 when she died, Niko would have been in the Lost and Found Department’s records. She had checked only to be able to give her mourning friends some closure on her afterlife but had found she wasn’t in their records where she should have been – at least not as having been processed.

Thus, they began The Case of Niko Sasaki. The boys travelled back to Port Townsend to gather more information on the lucky bear charm she had been holding from Tragic Mick, and had learned that in addition to supposedly giving the carrier luck, its intended purpose was to transport the carrier to a different plane in the event of death – similar to the spectral plane ghosts existed on, only this one was not layered on top of the living world, and existed entirely separately, requiring advanced magic to travel between.

Edwin Payne was not a person who was easily intimidated by the phrase ‘advanced magic’, and spent the next several weeks researching and practising, even turning down new cases to ensure his focus. Charles watched on as he worked, barely stopping even for a conversation. He had been worried about him, but he trusted him. He knew if anyone were able to make this work, it would be Edwin.

And that he did. Nearly four months after her death in Esther Finch’s house, Niko Sasaki had been returned to the plane of the living. It had exhausted Edwin so much that once he knew she was safe, that she was back where she belonged and so alive, he slipped into his most basic rest form to recuperate – a glowing white orb. It had only happened a couple of times in the many years Charles had known Edwin, so he knew he must have really worked himself too hard. More than anything, though, Charles was overwhelmingly proud of him. He had brought someone back from another plane. He was more than deserving of a break. Edwin stayed like that for almost two weeks, practically living in Charles’s pocket – and occasionally Niko’s.

Since there was time where Edwin wasn’t around (at least not in his usual manner - he was still there, just glowing brightly on Charles’s chest rather than rambling about banshees or something similar from his desk) Charles had been given the chance to think about him. Specifically, it had finally given him the time he needed to focus on what Edwin had said to him as they left Hell. With everything that had happened: Crystal’s memories, Esther’s torture device, Niko’s death, bringing her back… Charles hadn’t really had time to sit and collect his thoughts on the matter. He thought back on all the time he’d known Edwin, remembered so many tiny yet fond memories they had made over the years, contemplated just how inconceivable the idea of them being separated was, how utterly petrified he had been when he nearly lost him twice. Charles had soon come to realise he might just have been in love with Edwin for years, but because of how natural their relationship had been…he’d just never realised it. He’d always assumed falling in love would be just that: a fall. A rapid paced thing that would simply hit him when he least expected it, when the right person came along. But it hadn’t been like that at all. He hadn’t fallen in love with Edwin; he had simply wandered. Wandered with him for years because it felt so easy, so right. Is it any wonder he had never noticed this feeling? It had crept up on him, like the countdown of an exceptionally slow bomb, and now he had realised it, he felt it wanting to explode out of him. He wanted to scream to the world that he was in love with Edwin Payne.

It was a month after Edwin had returned to his usual self when Charles finally told him. He’d seemed in disbelief that it could be true, that so much good could be happening to him after everything. He’d got Niko back, and now he had Charles reciprocating his love in the same way? It was almost too much to take in. Take it in he did, though, and within a couple more months, it felt like barely anything had changed. This was just a natural part of their wander through eternity. It didn’t feel strange or awkward for Charles to walk up behind Edwin and plant a kiss on his forehead whilst he was reading, or for Edwin to crawl into Charles’s arms and cuddle up together on the sofa. Their love was always heading here, as if it were written in the stars.

So yes, it had taken a while for them to fall into their new normal, but once they had it was brilliant. Niko had moved in with Crystal, and their days were once again filled with solving cases and helping souls. Well, not all of their days. Only 50% of the Dead Boy Detective Agency was actually dead now, so the girls still needed rest and sleep and couldn’t just work consistently. And they’d also encouraged the boys to take a break from time to time. So, while they all worked in the daytime, there were a few evenings and nights a week where they had agreed not to take any new cases. And one day every two weeks, they did something together as a group. If there were emergency cases, they would take them of course, but they took more time to themselves now. And despite Edwin’s initial reluctance, both he and Charles enjoyed taking a break for a while.

Today was supposed to be their biweekly group outing, but they were just off the tail of a particularly taxing case, so the girls had decided to spend their day at home watching movies. The boys had joined them for one or two of the films, but eventually returned to the office and left them to their unwinding. Both Crystal and Niko had seemed strangely happy that the boys were leaving and gave each other a look that Charles couldn’t quite decipher. He supposed they enjoyed their time alone just as much as he and Edwin did, so didn’t think much of it.

They’d decided to be somewhat productive back at the office – not researching or taking on any new cases, but reorganising Charles’s bag of tricks. It had been on their list of things to do ever since a recent case required a book Charles claimed not to have brought with him, only to discover after a thorough search of the bookshelves and a near-breakdown for Edwin, that the book had been in there all along, and Charles had simply forgotten.

“You really do need to keep a record of what you keep in there, Charles,” Edwin had scolded him, clutching onto the book as though it were the only thing keeping him where he stood.

So here they were, having emptied the entire ‘for cases’ section of the backpack – which was still very sizeable. Books and weapons and magical knickknacks had been scattered around the floor of the office, and the boys were desperately trying to catalogue them to figure out whether they were actually necessary to carry around all the time.

Edwin was sitting on the sofa, the small pile of various trinkets he was currently sorting through beside him, while Charles was on the floor, lying on his side propped up on one elbow, the rest of the clutter strewn around him. They had started three piles: one for items to keep in the bag for every case, one for those things they’d keep in there just because they were needed often – such as the first three volumes of Minor Arcana (Edwin had copies of them on the shelf too, having invested in back-ups after the chaos that happened during the Case of the Haunted Museum), and one for things that seem to have been haphazardly thrown into the bag over the last year or so, never really being used.

They barely spoke as they organised, communicating only via their expressions to indicate which pile to put everything in. They’d become proficient at that over the years, being able to talk without talking. It had certainly come in handy when they were dealing with particularly difficult clients (and when they wanted to irritate Crystal every once in a while).

Whenever the silence between them was broken, it was to reminisce about memories of specific cases that objects had reminded them of.

Charles picked up a yellowish folder. It didn’t jog any memories at first, so he opened it – as it turns out, it had been a police file from a previous case. It reminded him of the files the Night Nurse had them filling out these days about almost every client, but more importantly, it reminded him of something she’d said to them recently, something he hadn’t thought too much of until that moment.

“Mate, I just had a thought,” he said, dropping the folder onto the to-put-somewhere-else pile.

“Yeah? What is it?”

“The other day, when the Night Nurse came in, she kept talking about ‘our file’.”

“The Lost and Found Department has afterlife files for everyone, what about it?” Edwin said, inspecting the crystal ball he was currently holding.

“Our file, though. Singular. Why do we have the same file? We died like 70 years apart.”

Edwin put the crystal ball down at that, his eyebrows furrowing slightly in the same way they did whenever he didn’t understand something and didn’t like being out of the loop. It was subtle, but Charles noticed. He noticed every tiny thing about Edwin these days.

“Hmm. You do have a point, there. I hadn’t thought about the implications of the phrase.”

“Shit, you not thinking about the implications? Are you feeling alright?” Charles teased, sitting upright in faux worry.

“Charles, I am a ghost and therefore am incapable of feeling ill. As are you,” he said, unable to hide the slight smile on his face.

“Never mind, everything’s fine, the smartarse is back.”

Edwin rolled his eyes.

“I do not know why we have the same file. Perhaps we should ask the Night Nurse about it during her next visit.”

“Well, if she’s in a better mood this time. Not sure she’d appreciate it if she’s as pissy as she was the other day. You know, I’m convinced you enjoy riling her up.”

“I have no idea what you mean, dear,” Edwin smirked, returning to his stack of trinkets.

“Oh, you’re such a tease.”

“You love it.”

“I do. It’s hot.”

Edwin scoffed, but Charles could see the pride in his face. That was a new development that had happened since they got together. Edwin had been more awkward than usual around Charles in the weeks following his confession, being overly careful about overstepping or making Charles uncomfortable. Charles figured part of it was to do with Niko’s absence. She’d given him so much more confidence when it came to things like this, and then when she was gone…Edwin wasn’t the same. But recently, he had brought his usual snarky personality into their relationship too and was much more openly flirty. Charles loved it, even if it occasionally seemed to break something in his brain for several minutes and had a tendency to hinder his work efficiency.

They continued sorting through the clutter until Edwin had finished his pile and promptly made the decision to move from the sofa and kneel right in front of Charles, in between him and the rest of the jumble that still covered most of the carpet. Charles sat upright again so that they were face to face, and Edwin’s hand moved up to cup his jaw before swiftly pulling him in for a kiss. Charles rested one hand on Edwin’s thigh, keeping himself steady as he leaned further in, the other hand holding the back of Edwin’s head to pull him closer. A muffled sound escaped Edwin’s mouth at the pressure, which only spurred Charles on.

They didn’t return to the mess that was strewn across the floor until the next day, but oh well. The backpack was infinite, and they had forever; surely they had a little time to spare for themselves, right?

Nearly two weeks later, the Night Nurse materialised in their office – now mess-free, after another day of organising the backpack and only getting distracted by each other a few times. She seemed significantly happier than she had been the last time she visited. Charles was convinced she was growing fond of them, though he knew she would reject the idea entirely.

After they had done their usual check-in jobs – getting more paperwork, going over case notes, filling in those dreaded files – the Night Nurse seemed content with their work.

“You boys are certainly more efficient at this than I had expected you to be,” she told them.

Charles desperately wanted to make a joke about that being perhaps the first compliment she had ever given them, but he didn’t want to push their luck. After all, they still had a file to ask her about.

“Thank you,” Edwin said for him. “We do pride ourselves on our efficiency, don’t we, Charles?” he looked up to Charles, who was in his usual spot perched on the desk.

“Yep. Best ghost detectives in London, you know?”

“You are the only ghost detectives in London, as far as the department are aware,” she stated.

Charles shrugged, smiling.

“Well, if that is all…” she began, turning away from the desk.

“Actually-” Edwin interrupted, and she turned back.

She didn’t look as annoyed as Charles had expected her to.

“We had a question.”

“As long as it’s quick, I need not remind you that I am very busy, and I do not have all day,” she said, raising her eyebrows expectantly.

“Last time you checked in on us, you mentioned mine and Charles’s afterlife file. I thought it was unusual that we shared one, I assumed everyone had their own. We were just curious as to why ours is combined.”

“Oh good, for once you ask a question I can actually answer. Yes, everyone does usually have their own file. Technically the two of you do have individual forms within your file, but they’re kept together.”

“How come?”

“The afterlife knows things. The heads of the Lost and Found Department have known about the meeting of the two of you since you died,” she indicated to Edwin as she spoke. “You were always going to meet, it was inevitable, so they set up a joint file as it would be easier to keep track of you when you did.”

“Woah…so we’re like, soulmates,” Charles said, eyes full of shock and wonder as he turned to Edwin, standing as straight as he could while still leaning on the desk.

Edwin had never believed in soulmates when he was alive. He’d thought it was a silly idea people came up with to try and prove their love to someone somehow. Scientifically, he knew there was no proof of the concept, so any semblance of belief he might have had would have been crushed by the facts. Then again, though, Edwin never believed in ghosts until he returned from Hell and became one himself. That might have been part of the reason he felt his cold dead heart flood with warmth somehow at the thought, and he looked up at Charles with a similar expression…until the moment was interrupted when the Night Nurse scoffed loudly.

“Don’t be ridiculous, Charles, it’s merely a way my higher-ups like to brag about their divine foreknowledge. They’ll just pop you in the same file and then act all proud when you finally meet. It’s nothing quite so foolishly trivial as soulmates.”

“Oh.” Charles slumped back down to sit on the desk again, disappointed.

“Now was there anything else? I really do have other things to be getting on with, you know?” she asked impatiently, peering down at her watch.

“No,” Edwin cleared his throat. “I think that will be all. Thank you.”

“Good. I’ll be back in two weeks!” the Night Nurse reassured them, before dematerialising with a poof.

As soon as she was gone, Charles stood up, moving around to Edwin’s side of the desk and facing him.

“…We’re soulmates then, right?” Charles wondered aloud, checking he and Edwin were on the same wavelength.

Edwin, despite his prior hesitancy, absolutely was.

“I rather think we might be.”

“I’ve always thought, if anyone was my soulmate, surely it has to be you.”

“I have to admit I’ve never paid the subject much mind, but I suppose if I had, I would have felt the same. It certainly feels like our souls are irretrievably tied together by now.”

And it made sense, didn’t it? The reason they felt like they were immediately connected when they met, the reason they had found each other at all, despite time and circumstance. They were always meant to find each other. They may have been very different people, who led very different lives and were still so different even after nearly thirty-five years of being around one another constantly, but deep down it was as though they were one entity. They knew each other better than anyone else, could communicate without so much as a word being uttered between them, felt like they had lost a part of themselves whenever the other was separated from them. They orbited around each other so closely it was as though they were one being, inextricably tied together for eternity.

Edwin’s thoughts were cut short when all of sudden, Charles held him by the jaw and pulled him into a swift, bruising kiss. Edwin responded in the obvious way – by pulling Charles down onto his lap to reconnect their lips. There was something ever so slightly more in this kiss. Nothing had changed as such, but it felt like there was an even more intense spark, just for a second, at the knowledge that this was always going to happen. They were always going to find each other, no matter what. They were always going to be together, in one way or another, wherever they were.

Edwin had never believed in soulmates. At least, not until he met Charles Rowland.