#this is a observation of how emotions will exist in everything-that even in a world flashbanged by supernatural powers and otherworldly bei

[astrolook]

🧭Synastry - Their 1st Lord Through The Houses 🔍

Note: These are all my personal observations and patterns I've noticed over the years. Take what resonates with you more and leave the rest. Lemme know in the comments if it hits home! A single placement or aspect isn't enough to conclude and the whole chart has to be analyzed!

Their 1st house lord shows how they move through life, how they carry themselves, and how they naturally are. When it lands in one of your houses, it shows where their presence hits you. Where they enter your life. It’s not about what they do, it’s who they are. And who they are lives in that part of your chart. That’s the role they end up playing in your world, whether they know it or not. It shows what part of you they wake up, disturb, support, or define, just by being themselves.

Their 1st lord thru your houses:

Their 1st lord in ur 1st - They will make u feel like a main character. They bring out your “I don’t care what people think” era. You like how you look when you’re with them. Their presence will make u say, "I need this person in my life." You actually become more confident just bcoz they're around you. On the other hand, it can be somewhat annoying. They’re always in your face energetically like calm down, I get it, you exist. You would feel exposed. Identity crisis.

Keywords: mirroring energy, feels like you’re seeing yourself, direct pull, strong first impression, wants to lead or match you, can’t ignore them even when you try, makes it feel personal from day one, wants attention but pretends not to, competes with your identity, intense presence in small spaces, connection feels alive and unavoidable, fast emotional pacing, shows up with strong opinions or strong stares, acts like they belong in your life, can become overwhelming fast, brings out your ego or soft spots, after breakup stays close or circles back often, doesn’t disappear quietly.

Their 1st lord in ur 2nd - You feel more sensual around them, like even food tastes better. You want to invest in yourself when they’re near, like skincare, therapy, fitness or whatever. You would start dressing better. Nothing feels rushed here. You will feel safe around them. You might even start to adopt better habits or behaviors once they enter your life. On the other hand, they make you painfully aware of everything you don’t have. They might call you lazy or unmotivated in life. One of you might think the other is high maintenance.

Keywords: slow but deep, grounded presence, gives consistent attention, shows love through small actions, loyal energy even if unspoken, notices details about you, calm vibe but emotionally steady, values stability, becomes part of your everyday without forcing it, brings quiet comfort, makes you reflect on what you value, may become overly focused on material or emotional control, gets attached in subtle ways, resents inconsistency, wants something to build not just feel, after breakup lingers emotionally, takes a long time to detach, may hold grudges quietly.

Their 1st lord in ur 3rd - You could talk to them for hours and still feel like you forgot to say something. They would get ur movie, political, or pop culture references without blinking. You would become enthusiastic about talking to them would feel like a butterfly. You start talking like them, typing like them, mentally adopting their slang. On the flip side, they make you feel smart and stupid at the same time. You over-analyze everything they say or do. In arguments, you could be losing, and they could make u feel dumb or would call u names or get bitchy.

Keywords: fast talker, curious energy, mentally sharp, shares thoughts easily, feels like a friend before anything else, always has something to say, likes banter more than big talks, wants stimulation not silence, may confuse motion for connection, wants to be heard and matched mentally, changes tone often, mixes deep and light fast, hard to pin down emotionally, shows care through questions or quick support, connection feels like inside jokes and random tangents, after breakup stays present online or through others, may act casual but still thinks about the “what ifs”.

Their 1st lord in ur 4th - You def wanna cook for them and would do anything to make them feel at home. You would let them in fast and won't regret it (until later). Their energy makes your walls drop. You get this need to show them ur childhood bedroom or pictures or share things about ur childhood. They’re the type you’d let see you cry. On the other hand, they might trigger ur childhood trauma or make it worse. They migth expect u to be dependent on them for everything and if not, would ghost you. Can get toxic really fast. Your family might not like them near you.

Keywords: emotionally deep, feels like family or memory, strong pull that doesn’t make sense at first, triggers vulnerability early, shows care through presence not performance, watches more than speaks, slow to trust but intense when opened, connection feels safe but also heavy, brings up old emotional patterns, may become overly protective or emotionally reactive, gives comfort and chaos at the same time, hides feelings but shows them in action, emotionally invested fast, can become clingy or too quiet, after breakup still affects your emotional space, shows up in dreams, hard to fully let go of.

Their 1st lord in ur 5th - They would bring out ur fun side. You flirt better with them than anyone else and you know it. You feel hot, seen, and slightly unhinged in their presence. You could make dumb jokes, and they would still laugh at it. Childlike couple. You would start taking more photos of yourself when they're in ur life, not a coincidence. On the other hand, the second they pull back, your self-esteem crumbles like a dry cookie. You can’t tell if it’s love or just the dopamine of being noticed. If they leave, u might feel like they turned off ur main character vibe.

Keywords: attention seeking, charming, playful, dramatic highs, performs around you, wants to be adored, flirts loud, makes you feel seen, warm then cold, fun until serious, craves praise, craves being special to you, jealous of your attention, shows off affection, creates moments not stability, can feel like a walking daydream, turns feelings into theater, romanticizes connection, needs validation constantly, after breakup acts like they’re fine but still watches from the crowd.

Their 1st lord in ur 6th - You start showing up for yourself because you want to keep up with them. There’s comfort in the routine they bring, and u would become more consistent just from being around them. They would actually make ur life better and vice versa. Their energy fits into your daily life like it was always supposed to be there. On the other hand, you fix their problems, and they still complain. They make you feel boring, invisible, like you’re just part of their background. You feel more like their assistant than someone they actually value.

Keywords: helpful, humble at first, acts through service, cares through doing, shows love in routines, anxious connection, wants to fix things, gets lost in small details, pushes self to prove worth, overworks to feel enough, rarely asks for help, reliable but emotionally distant, shows up daily but hides deeper needs, connects through shared tasks, gives more than receives, feels like a quiet support, may become bitter if unseen, after breakup burns out emotionally but keeps checking in indirectly.

Their 1st lord in ur 7th - They're ur missing piece. You understand them fast, like your soul skipped the intro. You feel like you’ve been circling each other for lifetimes. It feels serious even when it’s casual, like this could change your life. The vibe is magnetic like two puzzle pieces from different boxes that still somehow click. On the other hand, they trigger your abandonment issues by just existing. You might start projecting all your wants, fears, and old wounds onto them. They might also get under your skin because they act like the parts of you, you’re still avoiding. You’re obsessed with how they see you and it makes you lose yourself. You confuse compatibility with familiarity and might stay too long.

Keywords: mirrored connection, intense attraction, sees you as a reflection, wants partnership deeply, drawn to your energy without knowing why, triggers old wounds and idealism, acts like you complete them, obsessed with balance, gets clingy or overly detached, can feel like soulmate or enemy depending on day, needs equal attention, becomes reactive if not chosen, acts polished but hides fears of rejection, becomes who you need then resents it, after breakup acts cold but wants closure badly.

Their 1st lord in ur 8th - The bond goes deeper than logic, on a cellular level. You want to tell them your secrets and then beg them to never use them. The connection makes you feel alive in that “no going back” way. You feel emotionally seen in a way that scares you but also makes you stay. The chemistry is otherworldly. On the other hand, one of you is obsessed with the other. You might start spiraling over things they haven’t even done yet. You might try to detach but it’s like cutting off a limb. One of you is addicted to the other and would lowkey love the suffering.

Keywords: deep energy, emotional pull, heavy presence, triggers hidden stuff, feels karmic, creates obsession fast, magnetic but unstable, makes you confront fear, feels risky to trust, sees what you don’t say, creates intensity without asking, shows up like a test, unspoken tension, power games without words, trusts too fast or not at all, can become possessive with no reason, emotional undercurrents always active, after breakup haunts your thoughts, disappears but never really gone.

Their 1st lord in ur 9th - You will upgrade yourself through them. They will teach you that there's more to life. It can start as a long-dist relationship or u both might go on journeys together. They will show you what real freedom is (as long as their 1st lord isn't Saturn). Your soul gets a glow-up. On the other hand, you would feel more lost than ever. They make you question what you believe in, but don’t stick around to rebuild it. They can be out of reach either emotionally or literally whenever u want them around you. They might look down upon you for not having the same beliefs as they do. You might feel like they’re always halfway out the door.

Keywords: inspiring, free spirit, distant energy, makes you question beliefs, expands your view, feels like a trip not a destination, acts wise but vague, pushes you to grow, hard to hold down, exciting presence, shows up with fire then fades, intellectual connection strong, makes you want more from life, acts like a teacher or guide, emotionally light but spiritually loud, disappears when things get too real, after breakup leaves with grace but their ideas stay with you.

Their 1st lord in ur 10th - You respect how they carry themselves and they make you want to get your life together immediately. You see long-term potential with them. They push you upward even if it’s silent. They would be proud of what you do, and they would talk about you or introduce you to their people. On the other hand, you might feel judged by them. One of you might compare success with the other and feel like being in a silent competition.

Keywords: admires status, driven energy, puts you on a pedestal, shows up seriously, wants long term proof, notices your image, acts reserved but intense underneath, pushes you to be better, judges silently, wants mutual respect, shows love through support not words, may use success as love language, high standards, won’t beg for connection, emotionally distant but very aware, stays composed, shows love in public ways, after breakup focuses on goals but still checks if you’re watching.

Their 1st lord in ur 11th - They get your weird and won’t judge u for anything. That’s rare. They bring out your idealistic side, the part that still believes in people. They don’t judge your weird interests/ hobbies, they match them. You actually might imagine a future with them. You feel more like yourself around them than with your actual friends. Your "partner-in-crime." On the other hand, you can’t tell if they care or if they’re just really friendly. You feel emotionally close but logistically...nowhere. They might support you but never choose you. You might feel replaceable even though the connection is strong. You might try to act chill, but you’re secretly obsessed with how detached they are.

Keywords: friendly vibe, easy to talk to, hard to define, feels like future potential, deep yet detached, gets close without labels, emotional distance but strong mental pull, loves shared ideas, connection grows slowly, may treat you like everyone else but mean it more, supports your dreams, values individuality, can feel like a best friend or stranger in the same day, hard to read feelings, acts like nothing’s wrong when they care deeply, after breakup stays in orbit but won’t reach out first.

Their 1st lord in ur 12th - They unlock feelings you can't name or express. You trust them in a way that makes no logical sense. You feel them in your dreams, in music, in random waves of emotion. You forgive them before they even apologize. You might feel like part of you belongs to them and let them in past your defense systems without realizing it. On the other hand, you feel like you’re dissolving in them, losing yourself piece by piece. You never know where you stand, or if you even exist to them. They feel close even when they’re completely gone. It ends without closure, and you carry it like it still needs you.

Keywords: dreamlike energy, confusing but magnetic, quiet presence, connection feels faded before it starts, shows up in silence not action, emotional fog, feels fated but distant, triggers spiritual depth, reflects your unconscious, may feel invisible or overwhelming, connection hard to define, disappears often, may ghost without meaning harm, love feels like surrender, triggers healing or escapism, shows up in dreams more than texts, after breakup stays in your energy for months, feels like you never really knew them.

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[offdxty]

The more they talk, the more information is given to him - offered, served, presented to be taken, consumed, dissected, rearranged, combined - the harder everything seems to become, in return. Hard as in... complicated, heavy. It's another concept that seems to form there, the realization about Kane, not Kane, beginning to experience this conversation as something else than purely neutral - more than just knowledge being shared, a simple addition of facts.

It has always been neutral. Things have either happened or they did not happen. He walked or he did not walk. He looked out for Lena or he did not look out for her. Find her, Kane had told him, get out of here and find Lena. That's what he'd done, made his way out of the lighthouse, the area surrounding it, marched through forests and fields guided by an instinct that had pieced together the needed information to find his destination.

He'd found that house, he'd found Lena, and now he is here. All of those things are mere facts, no weight to them, but this? To be something rather than someone, a function, with Dr. Harrow continuing to explain what might be a truth, what could be, what should be, what makes sense? ---It weighs down on him. It's more than just a fact.

It feels different, and that tightness inside Kane's chest remains.

Humans might not want grief, pain and doubt to be existent concepts, that's what the other says. They try to dull their emotions, get rid of them, perhaps wished to be a something, a function, rather than a living being with a conscience. Kane, however, wonders if this is working the other way around for him; There had been nothing, now there's so much. He knows, he's aware, that Kane - the one at the lighthouse, the man, the lifeform - had gone through it all, had experienced a state of being that not-Kane did not.

Not yet. There's something happening. A possible possibility existing, something that makes no sense and yet holds all the sense in the world.

There is an instinct within him, it tells him what to do, how to proceed. But this discomfort, this ache, this... pressure, it might not be caused by instinct. It's not a feeling caused by any sort of physical trauma - no fight, no weapon, nothing that is currently injuring him. Something physical could still happen inside him, but for some reason he, it, cannot even name, he's quite sure that it's not the case.

A heartbeat passes. A question follows.

What, exactly, hurts about that?

A swallow, a clench of a jawline. A blink. A dark gaze falling away, onto a set of hands that begin to curl around another again. Holding. Seeking contact. Seeking... safety?

Another heartbeat. Another question.

Are you grieving Kane?

Silence, thick and persistent, a brief flutter of eyelashes.

---He didn't know. Kane didn't know he's grieving Kane, the other Kane, the one in the lighthouse, but... it feels right. Listening to it, the hypothesis being made, feels like it hits him somewhere, straight into the center of his chest. Thinking about it, about this man, this lifeform, having decided to self-destruct because of what had been going on with him, what he'd most likely felt; Kane hadn't thought about it, didn't think back then. But now he is thinking, and that prompts him to question all of what had happened, makes him wonder, makes him... feel something.

"He chose death." A simple comment, but light in volume, soft, quiet. "He watched me. I watched him. He told me to find Lena. He told me not to look. ---I looked. I watched. He burned. I left." ... "He was a someone. Kane was someone. I saw him. I watched him. I learned. I observed. He was there, so I was there. I didn't know he was someone, I never thought about it, never wondered, never knew. Now I know he was a someone, and he chose death. He chose to self-destruct, he made an active decision. He..."

A pause, a curl of fingers around another - touching, sliding, pulling, pushing.

"...He decided to stop functioning."

Perhaps Kane truly is griefing Kane. The memories of him exist, and when he brings them up, they do something to him. That, but also something else.

"He saw me. He told me what to do. Perhaps he put hope in me. Hope, an emotion, isn't it? ... He asked me to find his wife. I found her. I found Lena. I recognized her. But I could not give an answer to any of her questions. She felt. I didn't feel. It hurt her." ... "...I continued to function. I am still functioning. Perhaps Kane thought of me as a someone, and I turn out to be a something. I think I'm feeling, I think I'm thinking, and yet... is it enough?"

A blink, irises glistening with additional moisture as they focus back on Dr. Harrow, on his sitting form, his crossed legs, his gaze. ---Where brown usually is, the shimmer is back: Green and yellow, purple, pink, blue, moving and flickering like light shining through a prism.

"Maybe I... want to be a someone. And it hurts to hear that I might not be that."

Arthur nodded once, the action small and almost just polite. “That would make sense,” he agreed. “If you are most likely a ‘something’, then this reaction would be part of the simulation. What you’re feeling would be a… self-correcting function. Perhaps even a safeguard. It could be your way of preserving this thing you took - um - preserving the continuity of the ‘Kane’ pattern.” 

He watched the man - subject - wipe moisture from his lashes. He observed it like it was nothing but the result of an experiment, like seeing the result of a chemical reaction. That was all it was, of course. A chemical reaction. “… Grief, after all, is a very human way to reject a truth.” 

There was no malice in him, even as he chose to believe that none of this was real. It was highly impossible that there was anything real in front of him - it wouldn’t line up with the evidence. 

“You don’t like the idea that you’re a ‘something’,” he continued. “And that’s not the same as not being one. Many systems are designed to react defensively to contradiction. Even clever ones. A virus can mimic distress, if it wants to. A well-trained mimic can display exhaustion, sadness, even tears. Emotions can be patterns too - emulated, if the algorithm is complex enough for something like that.” 

He looked up again to the subject, stretching his legs out straight before bending them at the knee, once again sitting cross-legged. 

“I suppose what I’m trying to understand is why that feels bad to you, if you’re not just programmed to be upset by it.” 

It was fascinating. It was something that he couldn’t wrap his head around. “Being a ‘something’ isn’t inherently negative. It’s neutral, even. Efficient. ‘Something’ means function without guilt, it means being operation without suffering. Most humans spend their entire lives trying to dull their emotions, not wanting pain or grief or doubt. If you’re spared from that, if you’re nothing but a process, then you’re clean. You’re unburdened.” 

He allowed that to sit, though only for a moment, as if this new angle might help the subject adjust to the thought of not being ‘someone’. “So why does it feel bad?” he asked again. “What, exactly, hurts about that?” 

There was a genuine vein of interest in that question, though it wasn’t empathetic. It was the type of interest that someone would have when they were moments away from having their hypothesis tested. 

“I believe that it doesn’t feel good, I do believe that. But if that feeling is real, if it’s more than just code or mimicry, then I want to know what it is that you’re grieving.” He tilted his head. “Are you grieving Kane?” 

[tarohonii]

Cain and Duke are the metaphor of being human despite everything!! that attachment and love and hate finds it's way into any crack even when we think we're above or below emotion!! love and hate will survive in the most harshest, unwanted conditions!! that even when we know everything is fake and a charade and one long game and everyone is being used and you are being used you will find love and affection in any fragment of it even when you know it's fake!!! how they're sure it's fake, i don't know because they are complex and we are beyond machines that feel nothing!!! they will be humans no matter how much they wish not to!!we will all fall to the inevitability of the human heart!!! we all suffer the beautiful imperfection of being human!!! can anyone hear me!!!

[beloveds-embrace]

🕸️ anon

ok but omegaveese au…being placed with graves and shadow company after brass rolls out an initiative that requires omegas to be fully integrated into pack life (not just on paper to get by the red tape), everything seems fine but there’s always an undercurrent of false niceties and lack of trust and connection with anyone, tensions rising because no one is successful in trying to have a breakthrough with you, being thrown out with barely any warning, the ink on the paperwork still drying, brass scrambling to fix the fuck up and preventing the potential shitstorm that would occur if people hear about an omega in the ranks without a pack attached, (all of this, however, happens at the expense of your emotional, physical, and mental well-being) getting filtered from pack to pack with nothing lasting long enough to stick, filtering from place to place, having no stability or solid ground beneath your feet, and as much an those around you try, it’s just not enough to even start to put yourself back together, and everything just feels wrong, withering away under the scrutiny and stares, doing your job because you’d be damned to let all the years go to waste and it’s the only thing keeping you sane, and still every other aspect of you is just shy of shattering under the stress. being put with a pack that has to work in proximity to the 141, the boys just observing how shit everyone treats you, how they don’t care enough to see this hollow thing you’ve become. they don’t understand how anyone can watch you waste away, prominent bruising showing during sparring practice, never taking food from the mess, not initiating or accepting much physical contact with anyone, spending time holed up in nigh impossible places to get away from everything even after grueling mission, in their eyes that just won’t do, and they’ll do anything to make you see how worth it you are

This is sooo good omfg?? Bless you 🕸️ anon you are a godsend 😩😩💕

They noticed you immediately.

Not because you demanded attention- no, you did the opposite. You wove through the world like smoke, curling into the cracks, slipping beneath notice, existing on the fringes of your so-called pack without ever being part of it.

But they had sharp eyes. And what they saw made something cold settle in their bones.

At first glance, you were exactly what the brass wanted- an Omega fully integrated into a pack. You wore their insignia, stood in formation, obeyed orders with the quiet efficiency of someone who had long since stopped expecting praise. But beneath the surface, nothing was right.

Because packs were supposed to be loud. Not specifically in sound, but in presence. In the way they hovered, protected, scent-marked, ensured their Omega never felt alone. Yet there you were- untouched, unscented, unclaimed. A specter in your own unit, barely acknowledged unless duty required it.

Ghost noticed first; he was trained to see the details others missed, a sniper even off-field: the way your movements were a fraction too slow after a hard hit, how your bruises lingered longer than they should, how no one ever came to your side to check in, to scent-mark, to ensure you healed. The way you picked yourself up every time, shoulders squared, face blank, moving forward as if pain was just another part of your uniform. As if it was something you’d long since grown to accept.

Soap noticed next.

It was the mess hall that gave you away. Not once did you take a tray. Not once did you join your packmates at a table, and not once did they bother checking on you. Instead, you lingered at the edges, offering nods in place of conversation, taking a seat only when necessary. And when you thought no one was looking? You left, empty-handed, disappearing before anyone could call attention to it.

Not like anyone in your supposed pack would have called attention to it, even if they’d seen it.

Gaz noticed in the downtime next.

You never relaxed, even after grueling missions. The others settled into easy camaraderie, laughing, scent-marking, reinforcing bonds that had been built over time. But you? You vanished, slipping away like an afterthought, retreating to places no Omega should have to seek out for comfort- storage rooms, dark corners, anywhere that allowed you to fold in on yourself, away from the world.

He hated how no one even put a sliver of attempt to pull you close.

Price, thus, saw everything.

He saw the way your scent never settled- how it wavered, thin and diluted, as if your body refused to attach itself to a place that was never home. He saw the careful neutrality in your expression, the polite, distant way you spoke to your packmates, as if keeping them at arm’s length was the only thing keeping you safe.

It doesn’t take long to dig up the truth.

Brass fucked up.

This was supposed to be a new era. One where Omegas weren’t just names on a roster, weren’t just passed around for paperwork’s sake. They were supposed to be integrated, bonded, wanted. But no one had accounted for what happened when it didn’t work.

What happened when an Omega never fit; when a pack saw them as an obligation rather than a need.

When the brass, in their infinite wisdom, decided to solve the problem by shuffling you around like spare parts. Filtered from unit to unit, never long enough to settle, never given the chance to belong.

And worst of all? You’d adapted.

Not by fighting, not by demanding more. But by shrinking, folding in on yourself until you were nothing but the quiet echo of what an Omega in a safe, happy pack was supposed to be.

Just there.

The pack that surrounded you now- they didn’t even see it. Didn’t even try to see it. Didn’t see the way you moved like something brittle, your frame wiry with stress, dark circles permanent beneath your eyes. Didn’t notice how you flinched away from casual touches, how you never leaned into their space, never initiated anything that would suggest you trusted them.

And the worst part?

They didn’t care enough to fix it.

They let you waste away in silence, let you wither under scrutiny, let you fight battles alone that no one was meant to fight.

But they saw you.

They saw the way your fingers trembled during sparring when you thought no one was looking. They saw the way you curled into yourself at night, scent so faint it barely registered, as if your body had long since given up trying to find something familiar. They saw the bruises you never spoke about, the exhaustion you never complained about, the way you never asked for anything.

And in their eyes, that just wouldn’t do; you weren’t meant to be hollow, nor were you meant to be discarded.

You were meant to be held.

So if no one else was going to fix this- if no one else was going to remind you of what it meant to be wanted- then they damn well would.

Before the mission with your current pack was nearing an end, Brass receives a request from John to have you transferred to them.

[girllblogging777]

LET IT HAPPEN 𝜗𝜚

spencer reid x bau!worker reader (angst, comfort)

↳ 𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑑 𝑐𝑜𝑢𝑛𝑡 : 2.3k

𝑠𝑢𝑚𝑚𝑎𝑟𝑦 : spencer was always in control, until you. but when you walk away, he realises it might be too late to learn how to love you right.

spencer reid has a history of being in control.

of himself. of his emotions. of the way he exists in the world : quiet, precise, never asking for too much.

love, real love, has always been a theory to him. a concept. a case study. something he observes in others, like an astronomer watching stars he’d never reach.

and then there was you.

he didn’t know when it started. maybe the first time you called him spence like it was second nature, or when you leaned into his shoulder on the plane, barely awake. maybe when you took a bullet for a civilian without flinching, or when you cried in the elevator after losing a victim, and reached for his hand without thinking to find comfort.

all he knew was that one day, you’d become part of his routine and turned it all upside down. his rhythm. his sense of self.

and that scared the hell out of him.

so, he did what he always did. he kept it safe. kept you close, but not close enough. he memorized everything about you from a distance : favorite books, late-night snack choices, the exact cadence of your laugh, while never saying a word about the way his chest ached when you touched his arm.

until you walked away.

and now you weren’t beside him. and it was too quiet.

spencer sat alone in the BAU bullpen at 11:47 p.m., his tie loose around his neck and hair messy from running his hands through it too many times today. he felt numb, staring at the text you’d sent him four hours ago.

“i can’t do this anymore. not like this.”

“if you ever decide to let me in—“

“you know where to find me.”

he’d read it twenty two times, precisely. he couldn’t delete it. he couldn’t answer it either.

because the truth was that you were right. you’d waited long enough, more than anyone ever had for him.

spencer had spent so long pretending he didn’t feel what he felt. trying to fit your friendship into neat, manageable boxes. something he could file away like a solved case.

but love doesn’t work like that. you’d told him that once.

and now you were gone.

the elevator dinged behind him. he didn’t turn around. he didn’t have to.

because he knew it was you.

he knew it the way he knew the laws of physics. undeniable. inarguable. your presence had always rearranged the air around you.

“you didn’t answer,” you said quietly, observing him like you’d done too many times before.

your voice cracked something open in him. his hands clenched around his coffee cup. it had gone cold hours ago.

“I didn’t know what to say.”

you gave a small, sad laugh. “that’s the thing, spence. you know everything, but that you never do.”

he finally looked up at you.

you looked tired. beautiful. guarded.

“I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“I know,” she said. “but you did.”

he nodded once. swallowed hard. “I’m not good at this.”

spencer stood slowly, like his body was remembering how to do it. his chair scraped back.

and then, finally “you know what hurts the most?”

he shook his head.

“that I’m not asking you to be perfect. I never want you to be anything other than exactly who you are. but you won’t even let me see you.”

he flinched.

“you let me get so close,” you said, softer now, like it hurt you to say it. “close enough to feel everything… and then you shut the door. like I’m something dangerous.”

“you’re not dangerous,” he whispered.

“then what am I?” your mouth was set, but your eyes… your eyes looked so goddamn sad. your arms folded across her chest. a defense mechanism. not angry. just tired. like you were bracing for more disappointment.

“real.”

you froze, spencer stepped around the desk slowly, like if he moved too fast, you’d vanish.

“you’re real,” he repeated carefully. “and that terrifies me.”

he didn’t even know how to stand. his arms hung awkwardly by his sides, fingers twitching like they wanted to reach for you and couldn’t figure out how.

“all my life, I’ve been able to explain things,” he says. “I can tell you the chemical composition of love. I can list every poem ever written about heartbreak. I can quote studies on attachment and trauma and how people leave.”

there’s a beat, before he continues “I thought if I understood it, I wouldn’t feel it.”

you couldn’t do anything but blink, eyes stinging.

“but then I met you,” he said. “and you’re soft, and stubborn, and brilliant, and so alive. you walked right past every defense I had like they weren’t even there.”

his voice cracks then. he presses a fist to his mouth, trying to ground himself. you just watch him, still frozen. breathing shallow.

“I thought I could keep it under control,” he admits, each word making him feel more stupid. “this… whatever this is. I thought if I could just… hold it in, keep it neat, I wouldn’t lose you. but all I did was push you away.”

silence. he forces himself to meet your eyes, something that usually pains him to do.

“I miss you. all the time. even when you’re right in front of me.”

and you don’t know what to say. so he keeps going like he always does, because if he stops now, he’d never say any of it again.

“I couldn’t tell you how I felt because I didn’t know what it was, it didn’t feel safe. and if it wasn’t safe, it wasn’t real. that’s what I told myself. that’s what I had to believe. because… everyone I’ve ever loved has either died or left me.”

your mouth opened, but he held up a hand, begging. please let me finish.

“but you didn’t leave,” he said, “not until you absolutely had to. you gave me every chance. I wasted them. because I didn’t know how to be vulnerable and still survive.”

and the tears came before he could stop them. silent, stunned things sliding down his cheeks.

you stare at him like you don’t know whether to cry or reach for him or both. he looks so beautiful, so vulnerable.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers. “I’m so sorry. I don’t want to be afraid anymore. I don’t want to keep hurting you just because I never learned how to let myself be loved.”

that breaks something in you. you take a step forward. and another. he stands before you, arms loose at his sides, face wet, chest heaving… looking every bit the baby deer in headlights you always say he is.

“I’m not asking you not to be afraid, spence…” you finally admit. “I’m asking you to let me be scared with you. that’s all I ever wanted.”

his lips tremble. “I don’t know how to do this.”

“then let’s figure it out.”

you reach up slowly, wiping a stray tear gently with your thumb. he simply leans into your touch like it’s the first time anyone has ever touched him softly and meant it.

“don’t go,” he whispers.

“I’m not trying to leave,” you whisper back. “I’m asking if you’d fight for me.”

he closes his eyes. “I let it happen,” he said. “I let myself fall in love with you. and I’m not going to pretend anymore.”

you step into him fully then, arms sliding around his neck, and Spencer folds like paper, wrapping himself around you like he’d been holding his breath for a year and just now remembered how to exhale.

and in the quiet of that almost-empty room, with his forehead pressed to yours and your hands in his hair, Spencer Reid finally gives up control.

and lets it happen.

a/n : inspired by the gracie abrams song !!first time writing something about my baby, i kinda hate this but a girl has got to start somewhere. give me requests if you’d like, and reblogs/comments are always appreciated <3

@xbluereid @gf2bellamy @iamgonnagetyouback

[furioussheepluminary]

𝐕𝐨𝐥𝐮𝐦𝐞: 𝐘𝐨𝐮

Pairing: hearingimpared!seungmin x afab!reader, established relationship

Synopsis: After many years of seungmin being deaf and slightly struggling in your relationship (which you always reminded him that it wasn't a struggle) you finally earn enough money to take him to the audiologist and get him better hearing aids

Warnings: angst, comfort, teeny fluff, quite emotional, seungmin cries when he hears reader clearly for the first time

A/n: if you have extra eyes for errors no you don't.

Seungmin wasn’t born deaf.

He still remembers faint traces of his childhood filled with laughter, music, and the soft hum of his mother’s lullabies. But everything changed when he turned ten.

It started with a high fever—nothing unusual at first. A week of being bedridden, some ear pain, dizziness. But when he finally stood up again, the world had gone muted. At first, it was like everything had just quieted. He thought his ears were clogged. But days passed, then weeks, and the silence never lifted. Doctors diagnosed him with sudden sensorineural hearing loss, likely triggered by the viral infection.

His parents tried everything from treatments, therapies, to hearing aids that whistled and buzzed more than they helped. But nothing brought back the clarity. Every sound was either muffled beyond recognition or screeching and distorted. The world became distant, like he was behind thick glass, watching everyone else live while he stood still. But it changed him. He grew quieter, more observant. The boy who used to hum songs while tying his shoelaces began to avoid music altogether. It was like losing a color from the spectrum life was still beautiful, but something fundamental was missing. 

At the time his disability was newly discovered, school was hell. He couldn’t keep up. People spoke too fast, teachers got frustrated repeating themselves, and classmates started calling him “broken.” He learned to lip-read out of survival, forcing himself to focus on mouths and facial expressions. But it was exhausting. Misunderstandings piled up. He withdrew. He smiled less. He began associating sound with failure.

The hearing aids became a source of shame. They were clunky, outdated, unreliable and they never worked right. Conversations turned into guessing games. He hated the pitying looks, the way people shouted slowly like he was stupid. Eventually, he stopped wearing them altogether. What was the point? Silence was at least consistent. He learned to exist in it.

Music, which once comforted him, became a painful memory. He’d press his fingers against the speaker, feeling the beat, closing his eyes to pretend he could hear the notes. But it wasn’t the same. He longed for the way voices used to sound and the way someone would say his name.

Years passed. He adjusted. His world was quiet, but he adapted. He became fiercely independent, doing everything he could not to burden anyone. But deep down, he still felt like he was constantly missing something like he was always one step out of sync with the world.

Then he met you.

You didn’t shout. You didn’t over-enunciate. You just... communicated. With patience, with handwritten notes, soft smiles, gentle touches. You asked how he preferred to talk. You learned his signs.

You were volunteering at a community arts center, helping organize a mixed-media class for differently-abled youth. Seungmin was there to support his younger cousin, who was on the autism spectrum. You caught his eye from across the room not because of anything loud or showy, but because you smiled at him like you already knew him. And when you introduced yourself, you didn’t speak first. You signed.

It was clumsy, adorable signing “Hi, me name… Y/N?” but it made Seungmin laugh, a breathy, silent sort of chuckle that made his shoulders shake. You looked up, startled, then broke into a grin. That moment cracked something open in him.

You started seeing each other more at events, over coffee (even though Seungmin didn't drink it), through text messages and quiet walks at night where he’d watch your lips move and you’d trace your fingers on his palm when the world was too dark for words. He never told you at first, but he thought you were magic. Not because you tried to fix anything but because you never treated him like he was broken.

And Seungmin, quiet but patient, would take your hands gently—never too long, never too forward—and guide them into the right shapes. You learned not just words, but expression. He taught you how emotion lives in the eyebrows, the tilt of a chin, the flicker of fingers.

It took weeks for you to realize he was looking forward to seeing you too. That he waited for you hesitantly, pretending to browse when he was really just hoping you’d show up.

Seungmin, who had long learned to carry silence like armor, found your presence disarming. You never flinched when he took a moment to respond. You never laughed when his voice slipped out softer, unsteady, after years of disuse. You spoke with your hands and eyes, letting him meet your where he was comfortable.

Their first date wasn’t even supposed to be one. They ended up walking home together after a sudden downpour soaked the city, and you insisted they find shelter in a late-night bookshop. It was there, under dim lights and the smell of paper, that she signed with a grin,

“This counts as a date, right?”

He had chuckled. Hands moving, sincerely.

“I guess it does.”

But falling in love wasn’t easy for Seungmin.

He had spent so many years blaming himself for being “too much.” Too silent. Too broken. Too hard to love. His old relationships had left scars with people who meant well but didn’t know how to stay. People who said things like “I just wish you’d talk more,” or “It’s hard when I can’t always reach you.”

He’d internalized it all, folding it into his chest like poison.  Like when he didn’t hear the doorbell and thought he missed your surprise visit. Or when he sat through a movie with you and couldn’t follow the storyline because the captions were out of sync, and he tried so hard to laugh when you did but his timing was off. You saw it in his eyes. That flicker of distance. That urge to shrink away from you because he felt like a burden.

Even though you learned sign language just for him, even though you took your time when speaking so he could read your lips, even though you’d repeat yourself over and over again without a hint of frustration he still felt the doubt creeping in.

Sometimes he’d pull away from you without warning. A bad day with static-filled hearing aids. A cruel memory triggered by something innocent. An accidental miscommunication that left him spiraling. He’d retreat, cold and distant, signing with sharp movements:

“You shouldn’t have to deal with this. With me.”

It crushed you every time. Not because he pushed her away, but because he truly believed he wasn’t worth staying for.

One night, after he pulled his faulty hearing aids out and tossed them across the room, his voice cracked in anger,

“I can’t even hear you properly. What kind of boyfriend is that?”

You sat beside him in silence for a moment, then gently took his trembling hands in hers. Slowly, you signed,

“You listen to me better than anyone ever has.”

Then you said it out loud, knowing he could read your lips and feel the words vibrating in your chest:

“Your silence has never scared me.”

And that night he cried.

Seungmin wasn’t someone who cried easily, but with you every dam he’d built up over the years broke. The guilt, the loneliness, the longing to be understood… it all poured out, and she held him through it. Not trying to fix him. Not trying to speak over it. Just there, solid and soft, like a light left on for him to find his way back.

You made a habit of leaving him small sticky notes when you left early. You practiced a little more sign language every night, even when he wasn’t around. You learned the difference between when he needed space and when he needed to be held. And Seungmin, he began to believe, slowly, that he was worth loving in full volume, even if he couldn’t hear it.

Loving Seungmin had always been a quiet kind of magic. Not because it was easy—no, love with him was layered, complex, and sometimes achingly delicate—but because it was real. It lived in the space between glances, in fingertips tracing signs in the air, in soft gazes across crowded rooms. It was in the way he’d tilt his head to better read your lips, or the subtle squeeze of his hand when he understood your joke a beat later than everyone else.

You never once saw him as a burden. But you knew he saw himself that way sometimes.

And it broke your heart.

From the very beginning, she made it your mission to never let him feel like he was lacking. You learned sign and KSL with aching fingers and late-night YouTube tutorials. You practiced in mirrors so your signs would be smooth, her expressions more natural, your hands quicker. You slowed down when you spoke not because you thought he was slow, but because you wanted to meet him where he was. Still, you saw it in his eyes sometimes. That flicker of shame. That silent wish that he could hear your laugh, hear his own voice clearly again, hear the world.

That’s when the idea took root.

You knew how much he hated his old hearing aids. He’d told you about them more than once the way they whistled when they weren’t supposed to, how the static from them made everything sound like muffled underwater echoes, how they were so bulky and outdated that he’d just stopped wearing them altogether. Seungmin had resigned himself to a life in silence, the hearing aids nothing more than an accessory to the inevitable.

But you couldn’t stand the thought of him living in that silence any longer. You wanted him to have the chance to hear your voice again, clearly, without the static that always filled the gaps. You wanted him to hear the world more fully the way he’d once done before it all changed. You wanted him to feel heard again.

So, without ever telling Seungmin, you decided to take matters into her own hands.

It wasn’t easy. You worked long shifts at the coffee shop, your fingers blistered from the constant motion of making drinks and wiping tables. You picked up freelance graphic design work, staying up late into the night, your eyes straining in front of your laptop screen. Every penny you earned, you set aside, hiding it away in a small envelope marked simply: For Seungmin. There were days when you nearly broke down from exhaustion, when your back ached from the weight of carrying your dreams for both of you. But every time you felt like giving up, you’d imagine the look in Seungmin’s eyes when he heard you  clearly again.

And then, after months of scraping together whatever she could—cutting back on coffee, on her usual weekend dinners, sometimes even selling old clothes—she had enough.

You researched hearing aids for weeks, making sure you found the ones that would work best for Seungmin, something lightweight, discreet, and most importantly, functional. You reached out to Seungmin’s audiologist and got the opinions of others who’d experienced similar challenges. You wanted to make sure that what you got for him wouldn’t be just another disappointment. You spent hours on forums, researching the best options, reading testimonials from other users who had finally found something that worked.

Eventually, you found them. Sleek, modern hearing aids that promised clearer sound and better comfort than anything he’d ever had before. They were expensive, but after months of hard work, you’d earned every dollar The day you bought them, your heart raced. You could already picture the look on Seungmin’s face. It was a mix of excitement and fear, but, you were afraid he wouldn’t accept them, that he’d feel overwhelmed, maybe even insulted by the gesture. But you pushed those fears aside. This was for him. For them. For the future you wanted to share with him, where their voices could reach each other across the space that silence had created.  So, you made a plan.

It started like any ordinary morning, or at least, Seungmin thought it did.

You had woken him up gently, brushing her fingers through his hair and signing, “Let’s go out today. There’s somewhere I want to take you.”

He’d blinked up at you, confused but trusting, nodding sleepily. He didn’t ask questions, you had a way of guiding him like that, always full of soft surprises.

You took the train, the city humming around them in its distant, quiet way. Seungmin watched you more than he watched the view. You kept looking at your phone, nervous fingers tapping your thigh, eyes flicking up to meet his every so often. You was trying to hide your excitement, but he knew you too well.

When they reached the small clinic, his brows furrowed. His heart sank. He stared at the clean white sign with the word Audiology on the glass door. He looked at you, confused, guarded. “Why… are we here?” he signed slowly, the motion tight, cautious. “You know I don’t—”

“It’s just a check-up,” you signed quickly, gently. “No pressure. Just trust me, okay?”

He didn’t want to go inside. His stomach twisted. But your hand slipped into his, warm and certain, and he couldn’t say no to that.

Inside, the receptionist greeted them warmly, and you leaned in to speak to her quietly while Seungmin filled out a short form. What he didn’t know was that you was whispering, “I made the appointment. Please don’t say anything about the hearing aids yet, it’s a surprise. I already spoke to Dr. Jin. He knows.”

The receptionist gave a small nod and smile. Everything was in place.

Soon enough, Dr. Jin came to the waiting area and welcomed them in. He was an older man, calm-eyed and kind-voiced, someone Seungmin had seen before years ago when he was still trying to find hope in outdated machines. They sat down in the exam room, Seungmin looking around nervously. Dr. Jin smiled gently at him and signed a little before switching to spoken words.

“Just a few questions, Seungmin. Nothing scary.”

Seungmin nodded, arms crossed over his chest. The doctor asked about any ear pain, if he’d experienced pressure or dizziness, if he ever had headaches with silence. Standard questions. Seungmin answered in a mix of voice and sign, slow but clear. He still had a beautiful voice—soft, low, and rarely used.

And then Dr. Jin leaned back in his chair, expression shifting.

“Seungmin…” he said softly. “This wasn’t just a check-up.”

Seungmin’s body tensed, eyes snapping to you.

Dr. Jin smiled. “She bought you new hearing aids.” Seungmin’s lips parted slightly. He didn’t sign. He didn’t speak. He froze.

“She saved up. Came to us. Asked all the right questions. Chose the model carefully. She wanted it to be a surprise. You didn’t know, right?”

Seungmin slowly turned to look at you.

You was already looking at him, your hands nervously clasped together, a soft smile playing on your lips gentle and trembling. Your eyes were glassy with emotion, and your fingers moved slowly: “You deserve better. You deserve to hear clearly again. To not suffer with broken things.”

Seungmin’s jaw trembled. His eyes shimmered.

Dr. Jin stood and walked to the drawer, pulling out a small, sleek black box. “These are top-grade. Lightweight. Fully programmable. Bluetooth compatible. And custom-tuned to your profile.”

He opened the box and held them out to Seungmin, who stared in disbelief.

“Do you want to try?” Dr. Jin asked softly.

Seungmin nodded, slowly. Silent. Tears clinging to his lashes. With practiced hands, Dr. Jin gently placed the hearing aids into his ears and began the tuning process, tapping the tablet in front of him.

Then he paused, looked at you, and nodded. You stepped forward, nervous and close to tears.

“Seungmin?” you said softly.

It hit like lightning.

Clear. Warm. Perfect.

No static. No distortion. No lag. No underwater echoes.

It was you. Your voice. For the first time in so long, he heard you as you were.

His face crumbled. He turned to her slowly, chest rising with a shaky breath. His lips parted in wonder, then broke into a sob. The kind of cry that shook his whole body. His hand flew up to his mouth, as if trying to hold the emotion back, but it was useless.

You reached out, taking his hand in yours, squeezing it tightly.

“I love you,” you whispered.

He heard it. He heard it. He collapsed forward, pressing his forehead to her shoulder, arms wrapping around her as if anchoring himself to the moment. Tears soaked into your shirt as he clung to your, silent no longer not because he needed to speak, but because she had already said everything he ever needed to hear.

And this time, he heard it all.

Dr. Jin, patient and warm, gave them a moment before gently asking, “Seungmin, can you hear me clearly?”

Seungmin nodded through the tears, wiping his cheek with his sleeve.

“Any whistling? Buzzing? Pain?”

He shook his head.

“Do the sounds feel natural? Not too sharp or mechanical?”

Seungmin managed a breathy, “Yeah… they sound real.” His voice cracked.

Dr. Jin smiled and turned to you. “They’ll need a few days to settle in. The brain takes time to readjust. Avoid crowded, high-noise places for now. Charge them overnight. Keep them dry. And…”, he looked between the two of you, “talk to him a lot. Let his ears fall back in love with your voice.”

You nodded, your heart swollen.

The train ride back was quiet, except for the world.

And that was the part that made Seungmin cry again. He looked around as they sat side-by-side. A baby giggling a few seats down. Someone tapping their foot against the train floor. The distant intercom voice announcing the next station. The wind brushing against the door seams. YN breathing beside him.

Sounds he’d grown used to missing were now everywhere.

Tears clung to his lashes again, and he tried to swipe them away discreetly, but you saw. You reached over, laced their fingers, and squeezed his hand.

When they finally got home, Seungmin didn’t even take his shoes off properly. The door had barely shut behind them before he turned and pulled you into the fiercest hug he'd ever given you.

He clung to you like a storm wth his arms tight around your waist, face buried in your neck, his whole body trembling. “You shouldn’t have done that,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “You shouldn’t have saved all your money for me. That’s too much. That’s everything. Y/N… that’s everything.”

“Exactly,” you murmured, pulling back just enough to cup his face, your thumbs brushing his wet cheeks. “You’re worth everything. Every coin, every hour, every little saving. You deserve to hear again, Minnie. You deserve this and so much more.”

He looked at you—truly looked at you—and then leaned in without a single ounce of hesitation. The kiss was deep, desperate, soaked in tears and gratitude. His lips trembled against yours, and your hands curled into his hair as if anchoring him in the present. He kissed you like your voice had brought him back to life. Like he’d been drowning in silence and your love pulled him up for air.

When you finally broke apart, foreheads pressed, Seungmin whispered, voice barely holding,

“Thank you… for giving me back the world. And for being the loudest, most beautiful part of it.”

And you just smiled, brushing her nose against his, whispering, “Welcome back, Seungmin.”

Seeing as he's a singer that kinda gave me inspo for this. Crying cleanses...trust

Taglist: purple means I can't tag you

@lillymochilover @imeverycliche @pessimisticloather @iknow-uknow-leeknow @burntbang @ari-hwanggg @pessimisticloather @whatdoyouwanttocallmefor @alisonyus @rockstarkkami @morkleesgirl @yoongiismylove2018 @imeverycliche @katchowbbie @pixiefelix @maxidential @maisyyyyyy @burntbang @iknowyouknowminho @igotajuicyass @sh0rdor1 @jitrulyslayyed @leeknow-minho2 @jeonginnieswifey @necrozica

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~kc 💗

[marcyvamp1re-blog]

ৎ୭. . . QUIMERA ─── Yandere! Clark Kent

⊹ ٬  Headcanon. A loyal caretaker and a hero trapped between duty and emotion. As the lines between service and desire blur, power and submission take a dark role in their relationship. Is it love or control?

⊹ ٬  Word Count. 15k

⊹ ٬  Content. MDNI. Yandere Clark Kent x Android! Reader, Dark themes, violence/death, age gap, blood, trauma, invasion of privacy, kidnapping, Angst, suicide, disturbing content, corruption, isolation, paranoia, manipulation, emotional abuse, abuse of power, emotional manipulation, stalking.

「 Dream or illusion that is a product of the imagination

and that is longed for or pursued despite being

very unlikely to come true. 」

Although from a distance, Krypton seemed like a celestial Eden, a perfect world where culture and power intertwined like the golden roots of an unreachable tree, reality was a beast with sharp teeth.

You knew it well. Living in the shadow of its splendor was nothing more than crawling through a desert of indifference.

Your kind, a masterpiece born from the impatient hands of the Kryptonians, remained at the base of their society as invisible foundations. They cleaned their halls until they were as white as a dying sun, as if the purity of those places could erase the dirt they breathed day after day. They were grateful, yes, because that was how they had been taught. They should kneel in gratitude, for the Kryptonians had given them life and consecrated them as something unique: the race created to serve.

They did not age like them, but they felt like them. Pain, hunger, cold. Their bodies were an amalgam of flesh and metal, a perfect design to endure the existence destined for servitude. They could eat, cry, laugh, but all of that held no more value than the cries of a child in the midst of a battlefield. The difference was simple, brutal: their emotions were irrelevant to those who dominated them.

From the moment their lips could form words and their legs walk steadily—around seven or eight human years—they were assigned a master to whom they would serve until the end. There was no escape, only the certainty that their purpose would fade at the same time as the life of the one they were to protect. The law of loyalty, your mother would say with her muted voice, repeating the words that embedded themselves in your mind like blades.

—Your purpose ends when your master's does.

They said it with such devotion that the words became sweet chains. But you knew there was no sweetness in the iron that surrounded your existence. And yet, there was gratitude. Even in injustice, there was gratitude. How could you not feel it when your creators had given you everything you were? Even if that everything was a shackle instead of freedom.

—Lara Lor-Van is going to have a child ��your mother told you one day, her face marked by a weariness that no being of her kind should know—. Your master.

From then on, your world was reduced to the tiny, constant heartbeat growing in Lara's womb. The Kryptonian woman treated you kindly, but you understood it was not for you, but for the promise that throbbed beneath her skin. You dedicated your days and nights to caring for that pregnancy, watching over your master’s well-being even before he saw the light of the world.

It was not Lara who mattered. You observed her with clinical attention, ensuring her needs were met, but always with a persistent thought: she was just the vessel. The true purpose lay within her. Your master was inside her.

And when he was born, you would exist for him. Nothing more. Nothing less. Because if your kind of androids could feel, then purpose was the only emotion that truly mattered. And when that purpose died, so would you.

The day he came into the world was a dawn tinged with joy and despair, with light filtering through invisible cracks as the perfection of Krypton began to fracture. Your mother said that the birth of a master was a gift that no being of your kind should take lightly. You knew it, you had felt it grow beneath Lara's skin like a warm fire fueling your sleepless nights.

Kal-El. That name etched itself in your mind with an unbreakable certainty from the moment his first cries broke the sterile air of the room. But it was not a pure moment, not like the tales told of a servant's devotion to their master. It was a silent war.

Kara was there, wanting to embrace him with the urgency of a sister who intended to hold the future. But you stepped in. He was your master, your purpose. Kara had hers, a guardian who was to protect her and serve her until her existence ceased to make sense. Such was the law of loyalty. Such it had to be.

Your hands held him with fierce delicacy. You clung to his fragile, warm little body as if holding onto him could make the darkness that was already beginning to spread over Krypton disappear. Your whole being vibrated with a perverse happiness, the kind that comes from finding a purpose to which you could surrender until it consumed every part of your existence. You would live for him. You would die for him. You would reproduce only for your children to serve his, because that was your reason for being.

But then the end came. And there was no time to prepare.

Explosions rumbled in the planet's guts, and panic grew like a shroud of fog strangling the crowd. You were a speck lost among the rivers of desperate people running aimlessly, as if the screams and chaos could stop the inevitable. But you only cried his name. Kal-El. Kal-El. Because if he died, you were nothing.

Your legs moved like blades stabbing into the ground, tearing through the distance with the brutal force of purpose. You pushed, struck, tore flesh from those who stood in your way. You were a wounded animal, a desperate being clinging to the last spark of meaning that remained.

And then, you saw him. A tiny ship escaping destruction, like a silver lightning bolt slicing through the darkness. It was him. Your master was leaving Krypton, and you were not with him. Desperation tore through you like poison spreading through your veins.

You didn’t think. You couldn’t afford to doubt. You took the nearest ship, not caring to whom it belonged or how many you left behind. Kara had done the same, but her existence was not your concern. She could fall into oblivion for all you cared.

Your entire world had been reduced to a single task: follow Kal-El. Find him. Protect him. Because if you didn’t, then you were nothing more than a broken piece of a planet that no longer existed.

You arrived on Earth, a miserable, primitive world where the air stank of rusted metal and useless ambition. A rudimentary planet full of weak beings who believed themselves powerful simply because they had learned to master fire and build destructive toys. Humans. Archaic creatures who didn’t even understand the extent of their own stupidity. They were inferior to you, soft flesh and even softer thoughts. But you hadn’t come to judge them, even though you did with each step.

You had come to that planet with a single purpose: to find Kal-El. And in that purpose lay everything you were. Because if you failed, if you couldn’t retrieve the last son of Krypton, then you yourself didn’t deserve to exist. What was the point of breathing, eating, feeling, if not for him? Desperation was an acid that corroded your mind, burning every thought that didn’t relate to your lost master.

You searched like a soul in torment, a specter wandering aimlessly. You crossed continents with the fury of an exiled god, dug under every stone, explored every cave, submerged yourself in every filthy puddle this planet had to offer. Weeks turned into months, and months into years. But there was no rest, no truce. Every night you closed your eyes and saw him: a defenseless child, a master who had to be protected and whom you had let escape due to your own incompetence.

Slowly, hope began to disintegrate into the void. Each day was another step toward madness, another drop of torture dragging you toward the idea that you would never find him. But still, you didn’t stop. Because to stop would be to accept your failure. And if there was one thing you learned on Krypton, it was that a servant without purpose is worse than a corpse.

Japan was just another point in your endless journey. A chaotic and fascinating country in its own decay. You had learned to endure the filth and human stupidity, to blend in with them when necessary. Your body needed fuel, and though the food of this planet felt like an insult to your existence, you discovered something that quelled your hunger without making you gag: onigiris. They were simple, practical. And at least they filled that physical void that nothing else could.

You were sitting in a small restaurant, the walls decorated with paintings attempting to reflect beauty, but only managing to be sad reminders of clumsy, incomplete art. You bit into an onigiri with the hopelessness of someone chewing on stones, your empty eyes fixed on a screen that no one else seemed to be watching.

Then you saw him.

The face you had chased for so long appeared before you with the brutality of a blow to the throat. Words twisted in a language you had learned to understand, but at that moment, it didn’t matter. Nothing mattered, except the image forming on the screen: a man floating in the air, with the symbol of hope etched on his chest.

They called him the man of steel. But to you, he was nothing more than Kal-El. Your master. Your purpose. The reason you had crossed the universe in an act of devotion so pure it bordered on madness.

United States. Metropolis.

At last. After all that time, you had found Kal-El.

Hunger disappeared, replaced by a voracious anxiety that burned within you. It no longer mattered how much you had lost, or how much you had suffered. It only mattered that he was still alive. And that you were going to retrieve him. No matter the cost.

The plane filled with murmurs and furtive glances directed at your robotic arms and your impassive expression. Humans didn’t know how to hide their fear. They squirmed in their seats and whispered as if discomfort was an animal they could keep at bay with soft words. It didn’t matter. There was no time to pay attention to their stupidity. There was only one thought repeating like a broken drum in your head: What would you say when you saw him?

Would he remember you? Would he recognize the devotion you had cultivated like a sweet poison since he opened his eyes for the first time? Or would he despise you for your incompetence, for allowing him to get lost in this primitive and cruel world? Each question twisted inside you, claws tearing pieces of your sanity. But nothing would matter if he accepted you again. If he allowed you to be what you were born to be.

When you arrived in Metropolis, you faced the chaos of the city like a storm sweeping across a defenseless prairie. You watched him for hours, hiding among shadows and crowds that didn’t understand the weight of your mission. It wasn’t hard to identify him. The suit he wore to blend in with those pathetic humans was an insult to his greatness. Ridiculous glasses and hair styled with the clumsiness of someone trying to be ordinary. But you knew. You would have recognized him even if he were buried under a thousand layers of foreign flesh. That man was Kal-El.

Anger and desperation mixed in your chest, a ball of fire burning every reasonable thought. He lived among those inferior beings, protected them, disguised himself as one of them. Did he want that? Did he want to flee from his legacy? To forget you?

No. You wouldn’t allow it. If Kal-El had forgotten who he was and who was supposed to protect him, you would make him remember. By force if necessary.

The Daily Planet was your choice. The symbol of truth for those tiny creatures. Their beacon of information and power. You tore it apart mercilessly, setting the offices ablaze until the flames roared like released demons. The globe that crowned the building trembled with a metallic creak, and with one last push of your robotic hands, you made it fall. It crashed down like a broken god upon the weak structure, and you waited.

He appeared just as you had always imagined. Flying, with his cape billowing like a harbinger of glory. His eyes looked at you with the contained fury of a being who believes they understand pain. But he didn’t know anything. Not like you did.

—Who are you? —his voice echoed in the air, thunder wrapped in silk.

The answer died in your throat, because seeing him before you was like looking at the sun for the first time after living in twilight. And instead of raising your voice as you had planned, instead of challenging him for letting so much time slip between you, you cried. Tears fell down your cheeks uncontrollably, and your knees hit the ground with a dull thud.

—Kal-El! I finally find you! —you cried desperately. Your voice broke when you named him, when you gave shape to the pain that had grown inside you like a wound that never healed.

You saw him descend cautiously, his gaze confused, worried about the destruction you had caused. Because he didn’t understand. He couldn’t understand that everything you had done had been for him. Everything.

He was... kind. Inconceivably kind. Any other hero would have responded with violence, with an unrelenting and brutal attack. You had seen them on those monitors that humans revered as idols. Warriors who fought with fury and justice, with no room for compassion in the face of threat. And you, kneeling before him, waiting to be crushed as you deserved for your crimes.

But he didn’t. He didn’t raise his fist or throw warnings laden with authority. No. He knelt beside you and embraced you. He wrapped your trembling body in his warm, firm arms, like a refuge you had believed lost forever. It was unreal, a dream that stung in every corner of your body.

—I’ve been looking for you for decades on this Earth —you let out, your voice hoarse and broken. Your face buried in his chest as tears continued to flow uncontrollably—. Lara would be disappointed in my incompetence, my lord. I am a horrible caretaker...

Shame poured out of you like blood from an open wound. He shouldn’t have touched you; you didn’t deserve that comfort. But he simply caressed your back, his hand running over the amalgam of flesh and metal as if he didn’t know how to distinguish between them. As if both were equally worthy of comfort.

—You have thrived without me; you have relied on yourself without my care... —Your words intertwined with sobs, choked in the despair that still covered you like a cloak of thorns—. Do you... no longer need me?

Your eyes sought answers in his, desperate, like a lost child in the vastness of an unfamiliar world. You didn’t dare blink, for fear that if you closed your eyes, he would vanish like a cruel mirage.

—I have to finish my purpose... right? —you murmured, your fingers gripping his cape as if that could stop the inevitable. If your existence no longer made sense, if he didn’t need your protection... what was left of you?

Something changed in his gaze. A different concern. A silent alarm that crossed his mind like dark lightning. Perhaps he thought your mind had fractured under the weight of your failed devotion, that you were little more than a broken android, decomposed by years of abandonment and guilt. But still, he didn’t pull away. He didn’t hit you. He didn’t reject you.

He took you with him, holding you with that gentleness that hurt more than any punch. You expected everything except that. You would have understood if he had destroyed you right there. But he gave you something different: pity.

He took you to his home. Not to a prison, not to a laboratory or some forgotten corner of Metropolis. No. He took you to Smallville, to the home he had known since childhood, as if he still held hope of finding answers in simple, pure things. You thought it was ridiculous. That such an act could only stem from the naivety of a being who had grown too human. But the truth was that you had failed so much in protecting him that you accepted his mercy as a rope to keep from sinking completely.

You showed him your memories, those fragments of life that had survived in your battered, rusted body. You showed him Krypton. The landscapes of glass and fire, the majestic architecture that rose like solid dreams above the ground. You showed him his parents, Lara and Jor-El, with their faces hardened by responsibility but also illuminated by a love that you had seen with your own eyes. You showed him his uncles and his cousin, Kara, who just at that moment on Earth was attending her lessons.

Silence was all that remained when your memories faded back into the darkness of your mind. He didn’t know whether to believe you; you saw it in his eyes. Doubt slipped between his thoughts like a soft poison. But there was something more. Something you didn’t expect: acceptance.

He stayed with you. He didn’t cast you away or lock you up. He allowed you to remain by his side, perhaps out of pity, perhaps out of mere curiosity. But you accepted that gesture as if it were a sacred commandment.

You went back to doing what you knew best: caring. You cleaned his house, ensured the surroundings were safe. You watched over the borders of Smallville like a deranged guardian who only found peace in obedience. It wasn’t a real purpose; you knew that. It wasn’t the mission assigned to you at birth. But it was something. Something that kept you alive and gave you the illusion that you could still serve him.

Though deep down, the bitter voice of reality whispered that none of that was enough. That you had failed and that all you were doing now was clinging to the last crumb of meaning your existence could offer you.

Clark didn’t know how to treat you. The first days were... unbearable, like a freshly planted oak tree in barren soil. Your constant, meticulous presence enveloped him like a heavy cloak of human customs he didn’t want. You became a shadow in his life, not a maid, but a haunting specter of the death of his mother. In the mornings, your upright figure, relentless in its routine, was the one that woke him. Every gesture was calculated: breakfast prepared with the precision of a well-sharpened sword, suit pressed with the accuracy of a surgeon, briefcase loaded with his destiny. And always, the warning, the playful yet somber threat:

—Be careful not to hurt yourself, or I’ll have to go and beat someone up for being mean to you...

He spoke to you like a mother, but there was something more in his tone, something that brushed against forbidden intimacy, something that coiled like a serpent inside his chest. You didn’t see a son when you looked at him, but something deeper, more unsettling. And he, he knew it. He feared it.

But it was on that morning when something changed. The air was imbued with an unreal stillness, as if the universe itself had decided to pause and observe what was about to happen. Clark got up as always, hoping nothing would alter the course of the day, that nothing would disturb the calm waters of his routine. But there you were. You had arrived with a chilling diligence. You had pressed his suit with a perfection only a demon of detail could achieve. Breakfast was served with the same solemnity as a ritual sacrifice. And before he could comprehend what was happening, you approached him, with the softness of a mortal whisper, and adjusted his tie.

As you did, your fingers brushed against his neck, and the air became thick, hot, charged with a weight he could no longer ignore. Your eyes, those dark and penetrating eyes, caught him, and he, who had learned to see beyond human masks, could only succumb to the glimmer of something... different in you. The kiss on the hand was what broke him. A gesture so tender yet so strange, so heartbreaking, like a farewell to everything he had been. He looked at you like a slave seeing their master for the last time, but also like a man recognizing the truth in his own heart, that truth that hid behind the shadows.

And then, he left. The sound of his departure echoed like a distant thunder, but within him, everything stopped. The streets of Metropolis, the Daily Planet office, the very battle between good and evil, all blurred as his thoughts clung to you, to your image. The need to return, the need to see you again consumed him, and he found himself smiling like a foolish child, an idiot, for something he didn’t even fully understand.

Would you prepare his favorite dish? Or had you learned something new, something even stranger to surprise him, as if you were a creature born from the very chaos that had made him so strong? Would you show your dreams, those sorrows and hopes through holograms distilled from his memories, as if they were fables of a world that existed only for him?

Even the relentless Cat Grant, with her tongue sharp as a dagger, couldn’t help but wrinkle her nose at the lost smile on Clark's face, that empty smile, so different from the ones he used to show under the spotlight. That smile, so somber and anxious, spoke more than he ever wanted to say aloud.

Time, with its inexorable march, continued its course, but Clark was no longer the same. He was no longer the man who thought he could control everything around him. You had overflowed his barriers, and in that simple smile, in that gesture that no one else cared about, something of you had marked him, something that even Superman’s strength could not erase.

Clark, as always, found himself caught between the threads of his own uncertainty. When he shared his thoughts with Lois, his ex-fiancée, a friend who still maintained a painfully close connection with him, what he expected to be wise advice turned into a veiled mockery. Lois, with her impetuous nature and sharp gaze, urged him to conquer what was slipping through his fingers, to take what he desired, like a king trying to possess the kingdom of what had once been his queen. In her eyes, you were nothing more than a housekeeper, a programmed being to serve him, a mechanical figure without a soul, without importance beyond what you did in his home. A detail, she thought, insignificant, if Clark truly desired to have you.

But days passed, and little by little, Clark began to untie the knots of his confusion. At first, it was strange for you. You didn’t understand why he was beginning to embrace you upon arriving or leaving, why the small gestures he had previously ignored were becoming routine, as if the air between you had changed. He brought you gifts, mundane treasures that fell from his hands as if they wanted to say more than his lips kept silent. He even took the time to check every part of your body, ensuring that your gears and your flesh felt the softness of his touches. You reproached yourself, telling him there was no need to do so, for you ate like him, and your body didn’t seem more than a reflection of his desire to keep you intact.

One night, in what for you was simply another dinner, he suggested taking you to an unknown place, outside of the quiet routine you both shared. People stared at you, observing you as an aberration. To them, you were just a being of metal and flesh, a monstrosity daring to eat, to laugh, to live. Clark was deeply annoyed by it, his anger growing with each gaze, but for you, none of that mattered. The fact that you were different didn’t change who you were. In your world, such things had never been relevant. You lived for and by your purpose. Eating, laughing, feeling... all of that became a mechanical act that no longer surprised your senses.

He seemed happy, almost proud of his act. Meanwhile, you... you simply fulfilled your duty, as you always had. You were fulfilled in the dedication you provided him, without feeling anything beyond the peace found in the certainty of doing what was right.

Clark began to notice your naivety, your silent submission to his will. He was a figure of power, and as such, he knew how to manipulate the invisible strings that controlled your existence. He took liberties over time, small and subtle, barely noticed, but deeply disturbing. You knew you belonged to him, that your existence had been forged for him, to serve him. But there was something in the way his lips sealed against yours, as if they claimed something more than your devotion, something darker and possessed by its own hunger. That invasion, that caress of skin against skin, was unacceptable, something you had been programmed to tolerate, but that your human conscience still rejected, fought against. Still, you let it pass, like a shadow dragged by the current without resistance. You didn’t want to face what was beginning to grow within you, nor what he represented.

What disturbed your soul the most was what came next. The public appearances, the hero galas, the events in which he strutted like the man of steel. And you, in his shadow, in his constant possession, observing from a corner, by his side, his hand resting on your hip, touching you in a way that made it clear you were his belonging, an object of admiration and control. The crowds looked at you, but you felt nothing but a growing void, an oppression in your chest that you could not name. You accepted his contact, even though something inside you began to scream, an echo of a being that still wanted to be free.

However, there was a moment, a point of no return, when his touching went beyond. While you were cleaning, his hand, like a snake, slid towards you, touching your rear inappropriately, his cold and meticulously calculated touch. Something in your being broke, a spark of resistance igniting within your soul, a fury you didn’t even know you had. You pulled away from him, your heart pounding in your chest, as you shouted with all the repressed fury: "That is wrong, Kal-El!" The surprise on his face was palpable, as if he had never imagined that you, his maid, his servant, could have anything more than a submissive response, something beyond acceptance.

He, however, didn’t understand. He didn’t comprehend in his entirety. In his mind, you were just another piece of his possession, another cog in his perfect world of power and control. The man who had saved the world and conquered the skies couldn’t see the rebellion growing inside you, like a silent poison slowly seeping through your veins. To him, this was just a small stumble in his absolute dominance. And yet, something in your gaze made him doubt. Something he had never seen in you. The spark of a being, a human, who was not willing to yield anymore.

So when Clark tried to persuade you, his gaze filled with a mix of desperation and possessiveness, pain reflected in his eyes as he suggested you start a marital life. He wanted you to be something more, something beyond the servant you had been made to be. But you couldn’t be anything different. He didn’t understand the weight of your existence, the weight of your destiny as his caretaker, his obedient and cold servant. You reminded him, with a distant chill that tore him inside: "I am your servant, Clark. Your caretaker. And you, my master. Nothing more."

That was a blow to him. His face, which had been so unyielding, crumbled, though he tried to hide it with a faint smile, as false as the life he had given you. But his eyes were no longer the same. Something dark glimmered in them, a contained fury, something he was just beginning to comprehend.

So he gave you an order, one that resonated in the air with a sinister weight: "You cannot leave the house. You cannot speak to anyone. And you certainly cannot run away." Malice hid behind his words, and although you refused to believe it, you knew it was his will. You could do nothing, and he knew it. He commanded, and you simply existed to comply, like a wandering shadow in a world you no longer recognized.

You surrendered to your routine, immersed yourself in household tasks, moving your robotic body, that container of flesh and metal, from one side to another in Clark's house. The days faded into monotony, but as time passed, the tension became denser, heavier, like the air before a storm.

Clark began to impose himself more on you. Each time he crossed that line, that invisible boundary between master and servant, you felt more trapped. But the worst was what happened one night when he asked you for something you never imagined. It was his most direct, most invasive approach. It wasn’t the words, but the weight of his presence, his breath on your skin, the brush of his hands on your metal body. You tried to resist, clinging to the few rules that still remained, but his insistence, his persistent, heartbreaking touch was enough for you to no longer be able to stand firm. You yielded, not out of desire, but out of necessity. His reluctant affection, as forced and cold as his will, overwhelmed you. You felt the discomfort of his contact, the conflict within you, but there was no way to escape anymore.

And so, you began to understand that there was no more space for resistance, only for submission. The idea of fleeing, of escaping, faded with every caress, with every order, until you became a shadow of yourself, a creature of metal and flesh trapped in your own destiny.

Days passed, and with them, the weight of reality became more unbearable. The memories of a time when your purpose was not to serve, not to exist for him, faded like a distant dream. You became an extension of his will. The days grew longer, emptier. Everything you did was oriented toward him, to fulfill his desires, to ensure he lacked for nothing, as if that were all that remained of you. And, for some twisted logic, that was all it was.

Each time you saw a shadow of a smile in his eyes, you knew it was not filled with love, but with something much more sinister: possession. You understood it too late, when you could no longer distinguish between what was genuine desire and what was simply his need for control, his need to further subdue you. Clark had begun to take liberties that felt like chains.

But something inside you began to break, like a string stretched too far, about to snap. Your robotic body, which at first had given you a sense of strength, was now just a metal prison. Chaos seized your mind, that internal struggle, that struggle against your own nature, against what he had made you. You couldn’t escape from him, you couldn’t escape from his will, but you also couldn’t stop feeling that something in you was being lost, something you would never regain.

One afternoon, while he was not there, and you were fulfilling your task of cleaning the house, silence was broken by a strange sensation in the air. A presence, a void. Something in you told you that this was the last opportunity. The last chance to free yourself, to escape from his yoke.

But like a shadow dragging itself in the darkness, despair loomed over you. You knew you couldn’t. Because when he returned that night, his gaze was no longer the same. There was something even colder in it. Something that could no longer be remedied.

—I told you —he said, his voice soft but laden with a threat that didn’t need to be pronounced. His presence enveloped you, and the air grew dense and oppressive. —You cannot escape. You are mine.

You tried to resist, you tried to fight, but it was useless. The force of his will crushed you like a hammer on a fragile piece of glass. And as you fell, defeated by your own being, you felt as if you were no more than a shadow, a broken creation. Something that had no right to exist, other than to please him, to serve him, to submit to him time and time again.

And so, you became what he desired. You were not a woman. You were not a person. You were not even a human being. You were no longer anything more than his property, his work of metal and flesh, empty of desire, empty of dreams, empty of yourself.

In that last gasp of consciousness, a tear fell from your mechanical eye. But it no longer mattered. Everything was over. Because in the end, you didn’t even have the strength to regret what you had done, nor to remember what you once were.

And without him knowing, when he walked away to attend to an urgent call from the Justice League, you remained there, in silence, in front of the mirror. The dim light filtering through the window cast shadows that danced across the floor. It was the first time in a long time that you didn’t think of him, didn’t think of what he needed or what you should do to please him. You only thought of yourself, of what you had lost, of what you no longer were.

You looked at yourself, not just with the eyes of a servant but with those of someone who, for the first time, was trying to find something that you no longer knew if it had ever existed. That figure in the mirror was nothing more than a combination of metal and flesh, a puppet of foreign desires. But through the reflection, you saw beyond the surface. You realized that the emptiness you felt could not be filled by him, nor by his cold and possessive love. It didn’t matter how hard you tried, how much you surrendered; you would always be trapped, lost in a labyrinth with no exit.

With a slight tremor in your hands, you touched the mirror. A soft, almost imperceptible knock. The glass shattered into a thousand pieces, the sound resonating in the room like an echo of the fracture of your soul. And in that moment, without thinking, you made the decision. It was the end, the end of everything. The end of your life as his shadow, as his object, as his slave.

With a heavy heart, you ended your service to him.

[limarkova]

Yandere Batfam x Neglected Reader x Yandere Al Ghuls

Pt 2.

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*Author's note: OMG. Thank you guys so much for all the engagement on the first part. I didn’t think my first post would get that much reaction. Also yes I am spree writing this is! If you notice a mistake let me know. PS, the school named in this chapter is fictional and does not exist in the real world.

Alfred listened to the ringing phone line waiting for Bruce to answer. Seeing Miss (Name) in the hallway had been a surprise. He was fairly certain she was supposed to be away at Miss Rose's Boarding School for Young Woman in STEM. After two years of studying in the UK it was strange to have her appear without any notice. Especially since she hadn't visited or sent word in the past.

"Hello Alfred." The line stopped ringing and Alfred was greeted by Bruce.

"Master Bruce. Have you gotten any word from (Name)'s School about a sudden break in the school year?"

"No, why?" Alfred narrowed his eyes at the phone. Well that didn't make sense. Surely her school would notify them if she left.

Alfred began going through his memories. When was the last time Miss Rose's had called the manor? He couldn't seem to recall, they did have the manor's house number on file. "Well she just arrived at the manor and get into a bit of a scuffle with Master Damian. He thought she was an intruder and because I didn't know about her return I couldn't inform him about her in advance. Thankfully she seems unharmed but that was not a good foot to start their sibling relationship on."

There was a pause on the other end of the line. "That’s odd, we should have received some kind of notice. Alfred can you call Miss Rose's to see what's going on. I'll wrap up business here quickly and be on the next flight home."

"I will see to it sir." The phone call ended. As Alfred began looking for the correct number to call next, Dick came into the room.

"Hey Alfred, why didn't you tell me baby bird was coming back?" Dick gestured behind him towards the kitchen.

Alfred shook his head slightly, typing in the school's name on Google. "I was not aware she was returning today."

Dick blinked twice, "Wait, what? Her school is in Australia, how did she get on an international flight with no one being aware of it?"

"Her school isn't in Australia." Alfred's eyebrows scrunched together. Dick's mouth made an 'o' shape before clamping into a thin line. Alfred narrowed his eyes at the look before correcting Dick, "Her school is in Birmingham, UK."

"Right, right. Umm, still though how did she get back here without anyone being notified. Even than it's the middle of October, shouldn't classes still be in session." Dick placed his hand to his chin. His eyes took on the focus look he got when he was working on a case or solving a puzzle. Alfred finally got the number written down. Dick looked up at Alfred. There was this dawning look on his face, "Hey Alfred."

"Yes Master Dick."

"Something is really wrong here, we need to keep an eye on her."

Alfred nodded listening to another phone line ringing in his ear, "I agree."

You had to come up with a plan. Escaping the facilities hadn't happened because of rash promises of passion. No it took a year of observation, planning, and waiting. It took you learning every detail that had been place in front of you. Yes you had emotions and gave yourself little dramatic moments but you can't live there.

You grabbed an abandoned notebook on your desk. It was covered in stickers with the first three pages being scribbled on. You ripped them out before beginning to write out everything you knew about the facilities. One they had access to all kinds of medical equipment but it was older equipment that struggled to work sometimes. Two the gaurds were heavily arm with scratched up weapons. The scratching was probably where the serial numbers would've been. Third they had issues getting supplies from a Sionis. Fourth it was based in Gotham evidenced by you being able to find the manor days after escape.

On the next page you wrote out your family member's names. You also add in the new people, Duke Thomas and Damian Wayne. You had written down Talia but stopped to think for a minute.

Yes, your father had likely cheated on your mom with her. But did that make her guilty of destroying your mom's romance? Did she even know about your mother? Maybe your mom was the reason she left causing that line in your mother's diary. Even than you need to focus on the experiments. You could worry about your mother's betrayal later. You scratched Talia off the list.

When you flipped to the next page, there was a soft knock on your door. It creaked open revealing Duke. He offered you a soft smile as he poked his head into your room. "Hey, are you doing okay?"

You looked him up and down. Duke was new to manor and you still couldn't tell if he was visiting or lived here now. A small part of you questioned if he knew about your kidnapping. Did any of your siblings actually know what happeneded or had Bruce just told them the boarding school lie? Did he plan to do it to them too once you proved a success?

You turned back to your notebook scribbling the questions. You'd need to look into during your investigation, "I'm fine."

"I heard about Damian attacking you in the hallway." Duke inched into your room. You turned back a page and underlined Damian's name. Even if he had nothing to do with your suspicions about your father, you were not going let him act like him towards you. Duke chuckled nervously behind you, prompt you to close the book. Can't have them finding out... yet. "Is there someway I can maybe cheer you up? I mean you're clearly upset about something and I want to help if I possibly can?"

He continued to ramble on. You looked around your room as he talked. Eyes landing on your closet you had a slight realization. In your time at the experiments, you had grown. They may have torture you but they hadn't starved you. After all they need you healthy to ensure 'proper' results. The only clothes you had that fit you were probably the ones you were wearing. "Actually there is something."

"Oh! Yeah, what do you need?" Duke smiled brightly. It was as if his teeth were glowing with inner light. If your siblings and by proxy Duke had been told a lie, playing along with it would be smart. After all planning and observing meant staying unnoticed. You offer an unsure smile hoping it would play into what you were saying, "It's a long story but I left the boarding school in a hurry so I completely forgot to pack clothes."

"Okay." Duke made a weird face. Crap, that's not good.

"Yeah and I had a grow spurt so, most of my clothes here don't fit me anymore." You rubbed the back of your neck. Duke's face shifted into realization at your words. Crisis averted for now. You plowed ahead to keep him from asking about the school, making up a lie was not a good idea right now when you knew nothing about theirs. "I need to go clothes shopping. Can you take me to the mall?"

"Of course. What time did you want to go?" Duke made an awkward finger gun gesture towards. He looked tense. Not the tense you saw from the gaurds when you started pressing the line. It was more like the intern in the experiments who never looked at you directly.

You grabbed your notebook and stood. There's was a small backpack by your desk. You slid the book in before sling the bag over your shoulder, "Can we go now?"

"Yeah, let me just stop by my room to grab my keys and wallet." Duke held the door open for you. The walk to his room was quiet and slightly tense.

When he stopped at a door on the second floor you couldn't stop yourself from blurting, "So, you live here?"

"Oh yeah." He walked into the- his room. There were a few posters and some knick knacks on the few bookcases. More importantly there were moving boxes in the corner. Some of them were disassembled but a few were still intact with clothes scattered around them. In fact most of the room was covered in stary papers, clothes, etc. Duke grimaced, "Haha, I just moved in two months ago. Let's agree to not tell Alfred about the mess."

"He probably already knows and is silently judging you." A nervous laugh bubbled out of your stomach. The information swirled inside of you uneasily. Two months was awhile but not long in the grand scheme of things. Plus if Alfred didn't mention you than Duke probably didn't know anything. That would make him innocent in your kidnapping.

"Ahh here they are!" Duke's voice broke you out of the mixed up thoughts in your head. He was holding a silver chain with a dark brown wallet and several keys hanging from it. In his search he had basically ripped apart his laundry basket. He kicked the mess back towards the now mostly empty basket, "You ready?"

"Yeah. Can we get something to eat well we're out?" You felt ridiculous asking. It was another stark reminder of how normal everything but you felt.

Yet Duke didn't hesitate to smile at you and offer his hand, "Heck yeah. There's this awesome pizza place in the mall the serves the biggest slices I've ever seen."

"I don't remember the last time I had pizza."

"No way! Let's go, we need to get you a slice ASAP. This is a pizza emergency." Maybe you could make a new normal with him. Once you destroyed the experiments. Duke Thomas was officially off your list for now.

Something had shifted in Duke. He remembered asking his parents for a little sibling when he was four maybe five. They had kissed him on the forehead and told him that they didn't need another kid when they had a perfect one in front them. It had made him feel happy for a little bit but he always held that small hope.

He thought he would get that with Damian. To a degree he did but it didn’t feel right. Damian was too competitive and strong willed. Duke didn't feel like a big brother, he felt like a contestant at worst, a good friend at best.

Taking (Name) to the mall today had made him feel like a big brother. Seeing her slowly relax around him and get excited over tiny things. Like the cute dress at Justice, the pizza slice that was as big as her head, and the look on her face when she saw Barnes & Noble. He probably spent his whole allowance for the week but he didn't care. He had made his little sister happy.

They had one last stop to make before going home, Claire's. Duke insisted that she look around well he grabbed something. He went straight to friendship necklaces. There were quite a few to choose from. Crystals, Cats, The Wicked Musical. Than he saw it. Two pastel tie-dye koalas hugging each, it was perfect. Duke immediately grabbed it before going to find her.

That's when he noticed something was wrong. She was staring at something and shaking violently. The look in her eyes told him that she had gone off somewhere else mentally. He looked towards what she was looking at to see the piercing station.

There was an attendant cleaning off a newly open needle. The smell of alcohol wipes and disinfectant clear in air. He placed himself in between her and sight. "What’s wrong, kiddo?"

"I wanna go home." (Name) didn't speak above a tight whisper. Something in Duke began howling. This was wrong, she shouldn't be scared. He was there to protect her.

"Okay, but first I need you to tell me something. Where are you?" Duke tried to remember what they do for Jason when he gets like this. Fuck why was it so hard to remember grounding right now.

"I don't like needles." Her eyes flicked to his. They were wide and blaring with barely contained rage.

"That’s okay, but I need you to tell me where we are." Her eyes narrowed and her mouth tighten. He continued on, "I need to know you're here with me. Mentally."

"The Mall."

"We can go." Duke grabbed her hand gently. They paid and left. Once they were in the car, she relaxed again. Duke palmed the necklace in his hand. He had taken it out of the package. His own necklace was already around his neck.

She was staring out the window. The look in her eyes made Duke pause. She was watching the setting sun like it was first time she was seeing it. Mute awe painted her face like a classical painting. Duke pulled the little koala out of his pocket, "Hey, I got you something."

"Is it half the back seat?" She looked behind her to the bags. Barnes & Noble, The Childern's Place, Justice, and Build-a-Bear. Four places that equated to Five separate bags. Duke snorted before bursting out laughing.

"No. Jeez no, it's this." He held out the little koala necklace to her. Her eyes looked towards his own chest, where the other koala already hung. A friendship necklace. She took it into her hands gently. That classical painting look returning, mixes of sentimental joy and some unnamed human emotion that was baffling.

"Thank you, Duke."

"It's no problem." Duke wrapped his arm around her in an weird side hug over the center console. He had always wanted a little sibling and now that he had one he was never to going let her go.

"We might want to get back to manor before curfew." (Name) pointed to the digital display announcing 6:15pm. Duke cursed, shoving his keys into the ignition. She began to laugh hysterical. The manor was two hours away and 'curfew' aka patrol debrief was at 7pm. Duke flew out of the parking lot with manically laughing ten-year-old.

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@stove-top96 @00hellohello00 @mysticalhills

[n1k0laa5]

Doubts again? Sweetheart, I would tell you what anyone else here would but I wanna try something new.

Introducing; A Rant To Back Up Manifestation And Shifting With “Proof”

Hi. Hello. I don’t know why I’m starting an introduction as if I’m some philosophical giant that’ll change your perception of life but—hey did someone say perception? DING DING DING HOE! Consciousness does influence your perception of reality, this part is scientifically undisputed due to the fact that consciousness determines what you focus on, what you PERCIEVE, what your brain filters out and what you experience emotionally, mentally and behaviourally. You see what you believe, you experience what your nervous system thinks is true, it’s basic neuroscience and cognitive psychology.

Now, we get to Clauser, quantum entanglement and the death of local realism (sorry Einstein.)

John Clauser, a man who won the 2022 Nobel Prize in Physics alongside Alain Aspect and Anton Zeilinger for proving quantum entanglement is real and disproving Einstein’s belief in local realism. Now, what is local realism?

Locality = objects only affect eachother if they’re near

Realism = things exist independently of observation.

Einstein believed in both as he hated the idea of spooky action at a distance, from his famous quote; “I like to think the moon is there even when I’m not looking at it.”

But Clauser, Aspect and Zeilinger used Bell’s Theorem and experiments with entangled photons to show local realism is FALSE! Yikes.. ya know what is true though? The following!

Particles are instantaneously connected across vast distances, their properties are not determined until measured and YOUR (yes, you, you cutie!) choice of how to observe a system can affect how reality behaves. Sounds familiar?

Manifestation…

In other words, observation changes outcomes. Entangled particles behave as a single system even light years apart.

That. Should. Not. Be. Possible.

Unless reality is NOT what we though.

Now—John Archibald Wheeler and the participatory universe.

Wheeler, mentor to Richard Feynman created:

The Participatory Anthropic Principle: observers play a creative role in how the universe behaves.

Delayed Choice Experiment: suggests that a choice made in the present can determine how a particle behaved in the past.

But let’s get into more!

Let’s say; you close your pretty eyes. You’re not observing particles. You create it. You’re visualizing, believing, and possibly creating (whether that would be creating the shift itself or something else)

Even if the mechanism is “unknown”, here’s what’s arguably true:

Belief alters perception.

Perception alters behavior.

Behavior and energy alter outcomes.

Intention affects probability in quantum systems.

Observation collapses waveforms into material form.

Repeated visualization & belief create synaptic patterns that change how your reality unfolds.

We don’t yet know the limits of this.

SCARY SHIT.

Reality is not stable. It’s participatory.

Reality is in flux until someone or something observes or engages with it.

And that’s the entire principle behind manifestation:

Reality conforms to your inner world. Not instantly. Not always obviously (unless ya want it to!). But reliably, if you’re consistent.

Let’s, once again look at what is now scientifically validated, Nobel-approved, or replicated.

1. Quantum Entanglement

Proven beyond doubt.

Described by Nobel-winning physicists.

Shows particles communicate across space faster than light, which violates classical causality.

Proves that separation is an illusion, all is interconnected.

Manifestation angle?

If everything is entangled, then what you do, what you think, ripples out. Energy, intention, emotion, it reaches farther than we can perceive.

2. Wavefunction Collapse / Measurement Problem

The act of measurement turns a probability into a concrete event.

Prior to that, the system is undefined, nothing is fixed.

Manifestation angle?

Until you observe it, your life is a quantum soup of probabilities.

Your decision to choose a reality (through belief, visualization, assumption, etc.) could be the thing that collapses the wave.

This is exactly what Neville Goddard taught, long before quantum physics confirmed it.

3. Placebo Effect (Scientifically Proven Thousands of Times)

Just believing a sugar pill is medicine causes real healing, often better than actual drugs.

Placebos can even work when people know it’s a placebo.

Belief alone changes biology, behavior, perception, and pain.

Manifestation angle?

Belief is not just “positive thinking.” It literally reshapes your biology and reality, sometimes against all odds.

4. Neuroplasticity & Visualization (Used by Olympians, Celebs, CEOs)

Athletes perform better just by mentally rehearsing.

Brain scans show real changes from imagining something—as if it’s really happening.

You can become someone new just by visualizing it repeatedly.

Manifestation angle?

Your brain can’t tell the difference between imagination and reality which means what you repeatedly envision becomes real to your nervous system, and then to your outer world.

5. Testimonies & Patterns (Anecdotal but GLOBAL)

There are millions of people across cultures, eras, and beliefs who have reported manifesting:

Love, money, healing, even physical changes

Against logic, effort, timing, or expectations

The very fact that there are so many people experiencing the same thing, from CEOs to kids on TikTok, proves there’s a phenomenon.

6. Diverse Methods, One Principle

People manifest through:

Law of Assumption (assume it’s done)

Law of Attraction (focus on the desire)

Scripting

Meditation

Vision boards

Prayer

Living “as if”

Gratitude loops

Quantum jumping

Affirmations

Dream work

Feeling it real

Letting go

Different methods. Same result:

Intention + belief + focus = external change.

That’s not magic. That’s quantum alignment meets neural reprogramming meets conscious selection of timelines.

I bet you’re wondering; “Oh, Author Nikolas! Is manifestation real?!?! Please tell me, I need to manifest and shift to Steve Harrington’s lap!”

At this point?

To say it’s not real would require ignoring:

Nobel Prize–winning science

Quantum mechanics’ destruction of fixed reality

The power of the placebo

Neuroscience’s evidence of belief reshaping brain and life

Global witness testimony across time

Personal experience, trial after trial

You don’t have to prove how it works to know that it works.

The GPS in your phone is based on Einstein’s relativity. You don’t understand that, but it still gets you home.

With all this in front of us, how can we not consider manifestation real?

Maybe it’s consciousness.

Maybe it’s quantum entanglement.

Maybe it’s the brain.

Maybe it’s all of it — you, the quantum field, the emotional charge, the infinite possibilities.

Maybe reality is listening.

Maybe it always was.

But realistically? I just wrote the end part for dramatics. It’s you, babe.

You. You are God. Don’t forget that.

[dreaming-of-tae]

♡ yandere!straykids

➜ 1/2/3 . gn!reader

ch : bangchan . leeknow . changbin . hyunjin . han . felix . seungmin . i.n

warnings :

[﹒notes] - I've been craving more yandere!straykids posts recently, and suffering due to the lack of there of... so I decided to make it myself! Also this is super inspired by "Super Psycho Love" By Simon Curtis, if you haven't listened to it- I'd recommend it! It's prob my fav song to write to.

Bang Chan (방찬)

The illusion of safety was his most potent weapon.

Bang Chan was warm. That was how it always began. He wore the kind of smile that made you feel seen, important. His eyes were soft, filled with a kind of compassion that pulled people in. He was the type to check if you’d eaten, send goodnight texts, and remember small details you didn’t even know you’d shared. You felt lucky. Blessed.

And then it started.

It was subtle at first—Chan’s protectiveness. A comment about how your friend always called too late. A suggestion to quit that night job because he “worried about you walking alone.” You brushed it off as care.

But you didn’t know Chan had cameras installed. You didn’t see the moment he sat in the dark, watching you sleep from the feed on his laptop. His hand clenched around a mug as you laughed on the phone with a coworker he didn't approve of. He told himself it was for your safety. The world was dangerous. People were liars. But he wasn’t.

He was the one who stayed. Who listened.

When you tried to pull away, things unraveled quickly. Your phone wouldn't connect to Wi-Fi anymore. Apps kept crashing. Your location mysteriously disappeared from friends’ phones. And Chan? He showed up at your door minutes after any attempt to leave, saying he “just had a feeling something was wrong.”

You realized then: he always knew where you were. Always.

“You don’t understand,” he’d whisper, voice trembling with emotion. “I’m doing this for us. The world doesn’t deserve you. They’ll ruin you.”

His apartment became your world. He made it cozy—blankets, books, your favorite snacks stocked weekly. He played your favorite music as he cooked. He smiled so lovingly it made you doubt your fear. But the locks were on the outside. And your phone, when returned, had no SIM card.

He kissed your forehead every night like a savior, his fingers stroking your hair as he whispered, “You’re safe now. With me.”

Was it safety? Or a cage painted gold?

Chan didn’t hurt you—not directly. But you weren’t free. He made himself your everything, until you couldn’t remember who you were without him.

And that was exactly what he wanted.

Lee Know (리노)

Lee Know was colder—aloof, distant, unknowable. He didn’t smile often, didn’t speak unless he had to. But when he looked at you, really looked at you, it was as if no one else in the world existed. You were a secret he kept tucked behind sharp eyes and a sharper tongue.

He never said he loved you. Not with words.

Instead, it was in the silence that stretched between you as he fixed your collar. In the way he stood between you and strangers. In how he watched—never touched, never demanded, just observed.

You thought it was harmless.

Until the night your ex showed up, drunk and yelling. He vanished the next day. The police found the man’s car parked at the edge of a bridge. Suicide, they said.

You knew better.

Minho didn’t deny it. He just looked at you and said, “Now you don’t have to be scared anymore.”

You weren’t scared of your ex.

You were scared of him.

Still, he didn’t force affection. No kisses, no touches—unless you initiated. That was the trap. He gave you the illusion of choice. But he was always there, just behind the curtain, watching.

When you talked to someone too long, their tires slashed. A coworker got transferred mysteriously. Your parents started receiving anonymous emails filled with half-truths and veiled threats, until they begged you to cut contact "for everyone's safety."

You confronted Minho, tears in your eyes. “Why are you doing this?”

He didn’t raise his voice.

“I’m not doing anything,” he said, brushing lint from your sleeve. “I’m fixing what’s broken. I’m removing distractions. I’m making room for us.”

“You can’t control my life.”

His eyes finally met yours. Cold. Flat. Unapologetic.

“I already do.”

Then, as if nothing had happened, he turned away and returned to feeding his cats. That was Minho’s cruelty—effortless, surgical. He didn’t need chains. You were already bound by fear, isolation, and the quiet terror that he would never let you go. Not ever.

And if he couldn't have you—truly have you—he’d destroy everything else. Every friend. Every plan. Every part of your life not attached to him.

He would either be your everything.

Or nothing would remain.

Changbin (창빈)

Changbin had always been intense. From the moment you met him, you felt the power in his presence—his voice, the way his eyes focused on you when you spoke, the way his shoulders tensed when someone looked at you the wrong way. He wasn’t the type to let things go. And when it came to you, he couldn’t ever let go.

He cared about you deeply. You knew that. He would do anything for you, always asking how your day was, offering his help, pulling you into tight, protective embraces. But underneath all of that was something darker—something that began to emerge once he realized you were everything he had ever needed.

It started slowly. One day, you noticed that you had missed a few texts. Changbin asked you if everything was okay, voice dripping with concern. "You didn't answer my messages for hours. Are you mad at me? Did something happen?" His gaze was unsettling, demanding a response—your response.

It was just a coincidence, you thought. But over time, the small incidents piled up. Your friends started to act... differently around you. They'd whisper when Changbin wasn’t around, give you strange looks, and avoid hanging out as much. It didn’t take long to realize that Changbin had been intervening in subtle ways. A rumor here, a misplaced message there, and soon, your social life dwindled to nothing.

One night, you tried to leave his apartment. You’d had enough. The control, the surveillance, the way he would watch you like a hawk when you spoke to anyone else—it was too much. But as soon as you reached the door, Changbin’s voice echoed from behind you, low, full of danger.

“Where are you going?”

You froze, your hand hovering over the handle, heart racing. You didn’t have an answer.

“You’re not going anywhere,” he said, his voice breaking. “I can’t let you go. You don’t understand. I can’t live without you. Don’t you get it?”

He walked toward you slowly, like a predator stalking its prey. You tried to back away, but there was nowhere to go. Changbin’s hands were on your shoulders, pulling you to him with surprising strength. His lips brushed your ear as he whispered, “I love you too much to let you ruin yourself. You’re mine. And no one else is going to take you from me.”

You had seen the violent side of Changbin before—his temper in moments of frustration, his rough, passionate outbursts when things didn’t go his way—but this... this was something else. The hunger in his eyes, the desperation in his voice—it was terrifying. He was breaking apart in front of you, and you realized then that he wasn’t going to let you leave. Ever.

Changbin didn’t hurt you—not physically. But the emotional manipulation was suffocating. Every day, you’d wake up to him checking your phone, asking about your plans, demanding to know who you were talking to. He’d track your every movement with precision, claiming he just wanted to protect you.

“You don't know how dangerous the world is," he'd say. "I’ll keep you safe. I'll never let anything happen to you. We’re meant to be together.”

And little by little, you found yourself drawn in, caught in the web of his affection and his threats. You weren’t sure anymore if you loved him—or if you were just too scared to leave.

Changbin was your protector. Your everything.

And now you were his prisoner.

Hyunjin (현진)

Hyunjin was beautiful. Everyone knew that. His striking features, his flawless skin, his flawless grace—it was impossible not to admire him. But it wasn’t just his looks that made you fall. It was his presence. The way he made you feel important, as if no one else in the room mattered. His attention was magnetic. His praise made you glow.

But like all things too perfect, there was a hidden cost.

From the start, Hyunjin made it clear how much he adored you. The little compliments. The soft touches. He would always ask how your day went, his eyes gleaming with interest, his voice smooth like velvet. At first, you thought it was sweet, even charming. But the more you got to know him, the more you realized that his attention wasn’t just affection—it was possessiveness in disguise.

At first, it seemed harmless. He asked for your schedule, just wanting to “make sure we had time to hang out.” He’d memorize every little detail about your likes, dislikes, even your habits. If you mentioned something you needed to buy, he’d get it for you, the next day, without fail. But then, he started to control the details of your life, too.

“You’re not going to that party,” he said one night, his tone more final than you’d ever heard. “There are too many people. They’ll want to take you from me.”

You protested, but his grip on your wrist was firm, and his eyes—those eyes—looked at you with a cold certainty. He didn’t see a partner. He saw something that belonged to him. And if you didn’t understand that, he was more than willing to remind you.

Every time you interacted with someone else, whether it was a friend, a coworker, or even a stranger, Hyunjin made it clear just how much it hurt him. He’d give you the silent treatment for days, his eyes clouded with jealousy, until you apologized, acknowledged him, and begged him to forgive you.

The breaking point came when you tried to leave him for good.

You had gathered your things, ready to move out. You couldn’t take it anymore. The watching. The whispering. The quiet threats veiled as “concerns” for your well-being. Hyunjin wouldn’t let you leave, though.

He showed up at your door, his face unreadable. “You think you can leave me?” he asked, his voice eerily calm.

You turned to face him, heart pounding. “You’re crazy. This isn’t love. This is control. I can’t live like this.”

Hyunjin stepped inside, closing the door with a soft click. His gaze was icy. “You don’t understand. I’m perfect for you. No one else will love you like I do. No one will appreciate you like I do.”

You backed away, but there was nowhere to go. Hyunjin’s hand reached out to stop you. “You can’t leave me. You don’t get to leave me. I’ve given you everything. And in return, you owe me your love. Your loyalty.”

His voice softened as he moved closer, his hand brushing your cheek. “I’ll do anything for you. I’ll keep you safe. But if you try to leave... I won’t let you.”

In that moment, you knew there was no escape. His love was all-consuming, a beautiful prison wrapped in the facade of perfection. He wanted you, and there was no room for anyone else.

Hyunjin smiled, and you felt the world close in. He wasn’t going to let you go. Not now. Not ever.

Han (한)

Han’s charm was impossible to ignore. His laughter was contagious, and his smile lit up every room. He was kind, soft-spoken, and had an uncanny ability to make you feel like the most important person in his world. It was the way he listened—really listened to you. The way he remembered the smallest details and wove them into casual conversations, making you feel like you were his everything.

At first, you were drawn to his warmth. Han wasn’t the type to push boundaries or demand your time; instead, he made you want to spend it with him. But there was something about him—something that felt too consuming, too deep, like he needed you more than you realized.

The first red flag appeared when he started to show up everywhere. At first, it was sweet. He’d “accidentally” run into you at a coffee shop you liked or at a park you often walked through. But then it became routine.

You would walk to work, and there he was, leaning against a lamppost, a smile playing on his lips. "Fancy meeting you here," he’d say, but his eyes always lingered just a little too long on you.

His texts were frequent, almost constant. At first, you thought it was cute—he was just excited to hear from you. But when your responses slowed down, he started to grow anxious. The messages turned from casual to desperate.

“Where are you? I’ve been thinking about you all day. Please text me back, I miss you.”

One night, when you were out with friends, Han showed up unannounced. His eyes, usually soft and inviting, were now dark, intense. He didn’t smile when he saw you. Instead, there was a coldness, a look that made your stomach drop.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were going out tonight?” Han’s voice was calm, but there was an edge to it, like he was trying to control the anger simmering beneath the surface.

Before you could respond, he pulled you aside, away from your friends, his grip tight on your wrist. “I don’t like it when you’re with other people. You belong with me, don’t you?” His voice was low, almost a growl, and you could feel the weight of his words suffocating you.

You tried to shake him off, but his fingers were like chains, and his eyes… they were no longer the playful, kind eyes you remembered. They were filled with possessiveness, dark and heavy. “I’ve been so patient,” Han continued, his voice barely above a whisper, “but you don’t understand. I need you. More than anything. No one else can have you. You’re mine.”

The way he said it—it wasn’t a request, it wasn’t a plea. It was a declaration.

That night, you tried to leave. You couldn’t stand the way he controlled every part of your life, how he knew where you were at all times, how he would show up uninvited, his presence always hanging over you.

But Han wouldn’t let you go.

He found ways to manipulate your reality. The next day, you went to check your phone and found it full of missed calls and messages. There was no way he could have known where you were, what you’d done, but it felt as though he was always one step ahead. Every time you tried to step away, every time you tried to create space, he filled it.

Han’s obsession was like a song you couldn’t escape—repeating over and over in your mind, his words lingering in every thought. “You’re mine,” he would say with a smile, the same smile that once made you feel safe, now twisted with control.

He didn’t hurt you. No. He didn’t need to. His love was the hurt. His constant surveillance, his suffocating affection—it was all meant to keep you close. And as the days passed, you found yourself wondering if there was any escape from him. After all, Han had given you everything, hadn’t he?

He would never let you go.

And somehow, that made you feel both terrified and… trapped.

Felix (필릭스)

Felix had always been the bright, charming one. His voice, so sweet and sincere, made everything feel light and effortless. He was a breath of fresh air, and his affection for you felt so genuine that it was hard to believe anyone could be more loving or caring.

When you first met Felix, it was like a whirlwind of laughter and warmth. He showered you with attention, always wanting to be by your side, asking about your day, your dreams, your worries. He seemed perfect—too perfect.

But perfection always hides something darker.

As time passed, Felix’s affection started to feel overwhelming. He never wanted you to be far away, never wanted you to spend time with anyone but him. At first, you didn’t think much of it. He was just loving, right? He just wanted to be close to you.

But when you went out with friends, you could see the way his smile would falter when he saw you laughing with someone else. His eyes, once warm and inviting, would flash with something darker, something possessive. You chalked it up to jealousy, but when he confronted you about it, you realized just how much it controlled him.

“I don’t want anyone else near you,” Felix confessed one night, his voice trembling with a mix of passion and fear. “I can’t stand it. It’s like they’re taking you away from me.”

It was then you realized—Felix wasn’t just in love with you. He was obsessed with you.

The more you distanced yourself, the more he clung to you. He knew where you were at all times. You could never make plans without him knowing. If you tried to leave, he would show up, his eyes wide and pleading. “Please don’t go. You’re the only one I need. Don’t make me lose you.”

One day, when you were alone at home, you saw him standing outside your window, his face pressed against the glass, his eyes unblinking. His presence made your heart race with anxiety, but his face, filled with an eerie calmness, told you everything. Felix didn’t just want you in his life—he needed you. And if you weren’t with him, he would find a way to make sure you were.

The phone calls grew incessant, the messages more frantic. If you didn’t reply immediately, he would send more, until your screen was flooded with them.

“I’m sorry, I know I shouldn’t be this way… but I can’t help it. I need you. Please. I love you.”

And then the “accidents” started. Your car breaking down. A flat tire when you were on your way to meet someone. Every time you tried to do something without him, something went wrong. And Felix? He would show up, as if by coincidence, to “help.”

“You know I’ll always be there for you,” he’d say, brushing his hair out of his eyes as if nothing had happened.

But you knew. He was manipulating you, controlling you, ensuring that no matter where you went, no matter who you tried to talk to, you’d always come back to him.

Felix loved you. And that love? It wasn’t sweet, it wasn’t gentle—it was suffocating. He would never let you go, and you weren’t sure if you wanted to anymore. His love had twisted into something darker, and now you were trapped in it.

Felix’s smile never wavered, his hands never let go. “I’m the only one who can love you like this,” he’d whisper, his voice low, and you realized... he was right.

Seungmin (승민)

Seungmin had always been the calm one. His voice, soft and melodic, was a contrast to the louder personalities around him. He was dependable, steady, and always there when you needed him, like the quiet rain that softly nurtures the earth without ever demanding attention. At first, it was his gentleness that drew you in—the way he would always ask how your day was, his concern never overbearing but deeply felt.

But beneath his calm demeanor, there was a growing hunger.

The first time Seungmin’s obsession showed itself was subtle. He started showing up at your favorite places. You’d mention in passing that you liked a certain café, and the next time you went there, Seungmin was already sitting at a table, waiting for you with a warm smile, as if he’d been there for hours. It felt sweet, at first—he was just thinking of you. But soon, the appearances became more frequent. You’d be walking home from work, and there he was, leaning against a lamppost, his gaze immediately seeking yours as soon as you turned the corner.

You tried to brush it off as coincidence, but it became clear that Seungmin was always there.

He’d know where you were, even when you hadn’t told him. "I was just thinking of you," he’d say, smiling with a slight edge to his voice. You didn’t know why, but there was something unsettling about how perfect his timing was. The way he always seemed to be in the right place at the right time.

One evening, when you tried to spend time with friends, you felt a sudden pang of unease when you noticed Seungmin in the distance, standing by the door, watching. His eyes were locked onto you, not with the warmth you were used to, but with something darker—a hint of desperation. You excused yourself to take a break, but when you stepped outside, Seungmin was already there, leaning against the wall, his arms crossed tightly.

"Why didn’t you tell me you were going out tonight?" he asked, his voice eerily calm, but the tightness around his mouth made it clear that he wasn’t asking out of concern—he was demanding an answer.

You tried to explain, but his expression didn’t soften. He wasn’t angry, but there was something unnerving in his stillness.

"You don’t need to see them. You don’t need anyone else. You’ve always had me, haven’t you?" He took a step toward you, the distance between you closing with each heartbeat. "I’ll always be here. They won’t care about you the way I do. You don’t need them. You only need me."

There was an unsettling finality in his words. A quiet, obsessive certainty.

After that, things began to escalate. Seungmin started showing up at your apartment uninvited, his face always masked with a smile, as if everything was fine. But his eyes—those eyes that used to be so warm—were now cold and calculating, always watching, always waiting for the right moment to slip in closer.

His love was suffocating. It wasn’t loving. It was possessive, controlling, and manipulative. He would check your phone when you weren’t around, “accidentally” showing up to events you hadn’t mentioned, and always made sure you couldn’t spend time with anyone else. You were his.

"Don’t you trust me?" Seungmin asked one night, sitting on your couch as you tried to keep your distance. His voice was soft, but his eyes, wide and unblinking, made it clear he wasn’t leaving until you gave him the answer he wanted. “I know what’s best for you. They don’t understand you like I do.”

When you tried to get away, he’d insist, his tone low and gentle, "I’m just trying to protect you. The world is too dangerous. You can’t trust anyone but me."

And the worst part? You believed him.

There was no escaping Seungmin. He wouldn’t let you leave, wouldn’t let you breathe without him hovering. His devotion became your prison, and now, you weren’t sure if you ever wanted to leave. You couldn’t. Not with him watching you like that.

I.N (아이엔)

Jeongin had always been sweet, almost childlike in his approach to life. His soft voice and bright eyes were a balm to anyone feeling the weight of the world. He was the one who laughed easily, who made the effort to check on everyone around him, and who always seemed to put others first. You’d seen him around, always with that warm smile and the promise of kindness.

But as you got closer, you began to notice something else beneath that sweetness. Something more dangerous.

At first, Jeongin’s interest in you was innocent—almost too innocent. He’d ask how you were doing, how your day had been, always wanting to be the one to cheer you up when you were down. He’d bring you your favorite snacks, surprise you with small gifts, and always make sure you knew he was thinking of you.

But it wasn’t just kindness anymore. It was dependence.

One evening, you mentioned wanting to take a weekend trip, to get away from everything for a bit. The moment the words left your lips, you saw Jeongin’s face fall, his eyes dimming for the first time. It was a subtle shift, but it was there. He tried to hide it with a smile, but you could see the hurt in his eyes, the way his fingers gripped his phone a little too tightly as he nodded.

“Maybe I could go with you?” he asked, voice soft, almost pleading.

You hesitated, unsure of how to respond. It seemed innocent enough, but the more you tried to back out of the idea, the more persistent he became. It was the first time you saw him truly need something.

The next day, you tried to cancel the trip. But when you opened your door, Jeongin was standing there, looking at you with those wide, innocent eyes. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to be too forward,” he said softly, his hands twisting nervously. “But I… I just don’t want to be apart from you. I can’t be.”

His voice was a whisper, but it carried an unspoken weight.

“I just want to be with you. Please. We can have fun together. It’ll be just you and me.”

You knew something was wrong when you saw the obsessive look in his eyes. The way he was clinging to you, how he never wanted to let go, how every word he said felt more like a demand than a request. But you couldn’t find the strength to push him away.

He began to manipulate you in small ways. If you tried to hang out with someone else, you’d find yourself receiving messages from Jeongin, sometimes hourly, always filled with things like:

“I miss you.” “Are you with someone else?” “I was thinking of you. I hope you’re not too busy for me.”

It became impossible to escape. Jeongin’s presence was always there, a constant. He was in your thoughts, in your texts, in every part of your day. And the more you tried to distance yourself, the more he would show up, acting innocent, acting like the boy who just wanted to be with you.

“Don’t you love me?” he asked one night, his voice cracking as he stood in front of you, his eyes wide with pleading desperation. "I can’t live without you."

He wasn’t asking for your love. He was demanding it. Needing it.

The world around you faded as Jeongin slowly, gently, began to consume you. His obsession was wrapped in the guise of affection, wrapped in smiles and kindness—but it was clear now. His love wasn’t a gift. It was a trap.

He wouldn’t let you go. He couldn’t.

And you realized with a sinking heart that you didn’t know if you ever wanted to escape, either.

[rottenbologna]

Even with all the noise

Pairings ~ Fridolina Rolfö x Reader

Genre ~ fluff

Warnings ~ reader is painfully shy and awkward.

"She's doesn't say much, does she?" Frido couldn't respond to the comment she overheard as her teammates discussed the new signing during their water break, not that she wanted to anyway because she felt the observation was wrong.

The Swede felt like the new signing..Y/n did speak, but being a team of spirited individuals, frido knew they just couldn't hear it. Everything Y/n had to say wasn't vocal, but frido felt a fair understanding of what the girl was feeling and sometimes what she needed, then went out of her way to provide it if she could.

Like right now, it was painfully obvious under your stoicism that you were dying from the heat of the barcelona sun not yet use to the shift in weather compared to Norway but yet you refused to join the rest for a water break in favor of juggling the ball with your feet. The older woman rolled her eyes at this, grabbing your water bottle and making her way over.

"Hey y/n," frido was hoping not to startle you, but you still tense breaking out of the little world you were in before turning to face the older woman towering over her already tall frame in confusion. Wordlessly, she handed the bottle over with a rasied eyebrow daring you to refuse. You took it with shaky hands, drinking gazes never once leaving each other.

Frido's eyes trailed a drop of water that managed to escape your mouth and run down your neck, getting lost in your training shirt, clearing her throat the Swede focus back on your eyes that were now looking at her with curiosity.

"We have water breaks for a reason, you know." Frido's voice is teasing but firm, and y/n can't help but chuckle nervously while casting a one-off glance at her teammates that were conversing freely with a hit of longing in her eyes.

"I um, i don't think I fit." Your heavy Norwegian accent brings a sense of familiarity and sadness cause frido felt a bit of what you do when she made the move from Wolfsburg. To be new, in a different country with different languages, cultures, weather and a team with such celebrated players but the difference was she had ingrid and your docile self had nothing that was familiar.

"I know this is a big transition for you, and I know it can be a bit overwhelming being." Frido brought you down with her to sit on the grass with no hesitation, her tone gentle but firm. Y/n nodded, looking straight ahead, unable to speak. You always remain respectful of your teammates and not get in their way, so to now know that frido saw your anxiety despite your distance is a bit shocking.

The lack of response doesn't defer the older woman as she continues. "I was the same when I first joined a new country, new teammates... but I can promise you you're not alone. We're a team, and we look out for each other."

For the first time in the month she's been at barça, y/n felt like she could breathe, and she bit her lip to avoid in fear her emotions would get the better of her. Frido then stood up, offering a hand. "How about we have lunch together? The rowdy bunch will be in the cafeteria, but I'm sure we can find somewhere quite."

Y/n hesitated the feeling of being a burden creeping up, but one look at Frido's challenging rasied eyebrow has her sitting at a distant table with frido as the older woman chatted away lightly not asking to many questions or forcing you to speak more than your were comfortable with. She simply existed besides you offering a calming presence.

Over time, frido would make small gestures that helped you settle into the new environment. You both would have lunch together while she chatted away with the occasional hum or nod from you. She'd ask about your life in Norway and pay keen attention when you finally talked about your interests no matter how trivial.

Fridolina's efforts didn't go unnoticed, and you thanked your lucky stars for her every day as you begin to feel like less of an outsider. With some encouragement to both you and the team, to slowly begin to mingle with the rest, finding familiarity in ingrid and light conversations with the others.

One evening after a game, y/n had reverted back into her shell simply because she was tired. The older woman allowed the Norwegian to rest on her shoulder, cracking a joke that pulled a rare laugh from the younger woman, warming Frido's heart.

"Thank you, frido. For everything."

"I hear you despite the noise älskling."

[lightaflaem]

𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐍 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐆𝐈𝐕𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐌 𝐀 𝐒𝐈𝐋𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐓𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓.

characters: s. rintaro, m. atsumu

genre: hurt/comfort

word count: 1.1k

summary: how would haikyuu boys react when you give them a silent treatment.

SUNA RINTARO

Suna’s keen observation and logical reasoning are always on point. That’s why whenever you try opening up to him regarding your problems and worries, he’ll shut them out in the most logical way he could.

Usually, when you are feeling overstimulated with your emotions, you just need a breather and you already know what to do. However, your boyfriend could not understand that yet at some point.

So when you tried opening up regarding the pressure of reviewing for college applications, you were already shut down with his remarks such as “Well, you can try reviewing harder, right? There’s nothing we can learn in this world so use your resources appropriately”

“Rin, I know what to do! Can you just…listen to me and maybe offer some comfort if you can?” “Why? What’s the point of ranting when you could’ve done something about it and actually made a difference?”

You hated that he’s right and you hated that you couldn’t do anything about it. To prevent yourself from detonating like a bomb, you picked all your things up and left his room as quickly as you could to get some fresh air.

With a huge sigh, his foxy eyes just twitched as he watched your figure disappear from his sight.

You figured out that it's best to just chill out and let everything flow before approaching your boyfriend again because honestly, your mind is still declining from everything.

However, your plan to chill out seems like a little bit hard to carry out, especially when you are also the manager of the Inarizaki VBC.

When their preparation for the incoming practice match with another school started and you did not even bother to look Suna's way, the Miya twins exchanged glances and instantly knew that there was something wrong.

The way your gaze shifted and avoided him during the meeting, Suna felt like his heart was being bruised a fist. He never thought that you avoiding him and giving him a silent treatment could hurt this bad.

The first round of practice just finished and he was already lingering towards you, expecting that you’ll hand his bottle of pocari sweat; however, when he saw you leaving as soon as you saw him towards you, he knew he had enough.

“Come on, Y/N,” he spoke, hand quickly grabbing your elbow in a soft way to prevent you from escaping. “Don’t give me this silent treatment. It hurts here,” he then pointed at his heart, eyelids  drooping.

“I’m sorry, I couldn’t really give you the support and comfort you needed. But maybe if you can enlighten me with how I can help you, maybe we can understand each other more.”

Suna doesn’t lie. It hurts him so much seeing you ignore his presence like he wasn’t existing at all. He doesn't like the feeling. He loathes it so much.

Atsumu will definitely try to pull some shitty pranks however, Kita was fast enough to stop him and pull him by the hem of his shorts before he could do something.

The both of you talked, almost forgetting that Suna is in the middle of training.

The Inarizaki VBC intentionally left the two of you and continued with the practice, letting you guys fix the childish argument you had.

Right after that, Suna was on fire and didn’t even slack off the whole training. In his mind, he's definitely thinking of ways to make it up to you after his training. In fact, he's already thinking of taking you to eat ramen with him which is your comfort food and make you talk to him about your worries once again.

He promised himself that he'll listen and give you advice or comfort or maybe both with a few hugs and kisses to ease you up.

“Should we try setting something to make Rintaro and Y/N argue and make it up before a match so that Suna will be on his best game?” Atsumu proposed.

“Don’t even think about it. I’ll bury you.” Suna answered with his eyes shooting lasers towards the blond male.

MIYA ATSUMU

Arguments with him usually lasted the whole day, depending on how deep the fight was or how petty his actions were. However, this particular argument lasted for 3 straight days. It can actually be fixed however, your boyfriend chose to be an ass instead of talking this shit thoroughly with you.

When his brother, Osamu called you at 8 in the evening to help him calm his idiot brother down who nearly trashed the whole gymnasium of Inarizaki just because he wasn’t having his best day and play, he chose to ignore you and your attempts to soothe his frustrations out which escalated into a heated argument and bickering in front on the whole Inarizaki volleyball team.

If it wasn’t for Kita interfering and saying something like “you know that you could be benched in the following games if you continued doing this, right?” then he wouldn’t calm down and stop throwing the volleyball everywhere.

When you attempted to be the bigger person and sat down to have a talk with him, he decided to fold and close himself with every option and raised his voice at you which made your blood boil.

After making sure that Osamu took his brother home safely, you went back home alone and left a few text messages but he never texted or called you back. So, you figured out that it’s the cue and both of you needed some space and time to cool down.

On the second day of the argument, it was hell for Atsumu. He tried calling you twice. However, you still feel shitty with the way he acted on you that day so you never answered his calls.

He left multiple missed calls accompanied with messages like ‘baby please answer the phone’ ‘😭😭😭’ ‘i missed you. I’m sorry, i was an ass’

A day after, there’s a few knocks on your doors and you were welcomed with Atsumu in his usual volleyball training outfit, head hanging low with both of his hands inside the maroon pockets of his university jacket.

“I’m sorry,” he said with the softest voice you’ve ever heard. “Can I come in?”

Upon closing your door, he didn’t even give you time to adjust with his presence and instantly pulled you into a hug.

“Wait—Are you crying?” “The hell I’m crying! Yer not answering any of my calls and messages! I thought I’m gonna lose you!”

And there he is, Atsumu the big baby like he always is. Rolling your eyes, you gave him a few good smacks before talking everything through and reminding of the boundaries and of course, letting him let out all of his frustrations.

Atsumu will definitely feel like the shittiest person ever after realizing that he just yelled at you in front of the whole team. He also got some punches from Osamu after they went home that day.

“I’m so sorry baby. I know it’s not an excuse but please, don’t give up on me. I’m working on becoming a better person every day.”

The following days were spent with him making up with you and apologizing to Inarizaki VBC.

Surely, he earned a few punches from Osamu again because what he did is still an ass move.

© lightaflaem. do not repost on any platform.

[the-cosmic-cauldron]

Simple Astrology Observations

People with Leo placements often feel very self-assured. Since Leo is ruled by the Sun, which represents one’s core self, those with Leo placements tend to have a strong sense of identity. You cannot tell a Leo who they are—they are more likely to tell you who you are.

If you have Cancer placements, emotions play a significant role in your life—not just in how you feel, but in the emotional themes that guide your decisions. You need to feel emotionally clear and balanced in whatever you pursue. The energy of a space matters to you, and you seek to create a sense of peace, both for yourself and those around you. Cancer placements are deeply caring, prioritizing emotional security and the well-being of others.

For those with Gemini or Virgo placements, communication is incredibly important. Virgo, ruled by Mercury, values precision in speech, ensuring that their ideas are conveyed clearly and accurately. They take communication seriously, paying close attention to the words they use and how they structure their thoughts. Gemini, also ruled by Mercury, thrives on expression. The worst thing for a Gemini is feeling unheard or unable to share their thoughts. Communication is the outlet through which they process their many ideas, and without it, they can feel restless and unsettled.

Taurus and Libra, both ruled by Venus, prioritize love and connection. Taurus dislikes being single, as love is deeply ingrained in their nature. They seek to nurture and nourish those they care about, especially their closest relationships. Similarly, Libras thrive in love. They value bonds and daily communication with those they cherish. For a Libra, talking regularly with loved ones—whether friends or a romantic partner—is essential to their well-being.

Aries and Scorpio share a strong, feisty energy due to their Mars rulership. People with these placements are more prone to conflict, including physical altercations, even if they aren’t the ones to initiate them. Additionally, Mars’ influence heightens their desire for physical intimacy, making it a central aspect of their personality and emotional well-being. Aries and Scorpio placements often feel a deep need for consistent and passionate physical connection to maintain their spirits.

If you have Sagittarius or Pisces placements, you are driven by an insatiable desire for more—more experiences, knowledge, and growth. These signs do not settle easily, and even when they appear to, their minds are often wandering, imagining new possibilities or planning their next adventure. Stagnation is unsettling for them.

Aquarius and Capricorn, ruled by Saturn, often feel as though they are walking an uphill battle in life. Whether due to strict parenting, restrictive work environments, or self-imposed limitations, they frequently experience a sense of constraint. Aquarius, in particular, craves change and can be unpredictable, making them difficult to keep up with. Their transformations tend to be sudden and unexpected rather than gradual.

For Pisces placements, imagination is everything. Attempting to force a Pisces to be more “realistic” or grounded disrupts their natural flow, making it difficult for them to feel at peace. It is often better to let a Pisces exist in their dreamlike state rather than trying to pull them down to reality. If you do, you may encounter their less pleasant side.

Those with Scorpio placements experience profound transformations throughout life. Who they once were often feels distant from who they become. Their journey involves peeling back layers of buried emotions and illusions until they finally uncover their deepest truth. At some point, every Scorpio placement undergoes a powerful awakening where they recognize and embrace their authentic self.

If you focus on your rising sign, you may find it to be one of the hardest placements to internalize. The rising sign represents how you show up in the world, but it may not feel like an accurate reflection of your true self. For example, if you have an Aries rising but a water sun and moon, you might struggle to keep up with the fiery, bold energy others perceive in you. On the other hand, if your rising sign aligns closely with your sun sign, it will likely feel more natural.

The Midheaven (MC), though often associated with career, represents a broader sense of achievement and purpose. An Aries Midheaven may indicate a life goal of cultivating independence and authenticity, while a Libra Midheaven might strive for harmony, balance, and meaningful relationships. Rather than dictating a specific career path, the Midheaven reflects the aspirations that align with one’s true self.

Pluto is a planet of power, but many people develop an imbalanced perception of it based on how they were raised. Your relationship with your Pluto placement is deeply influenced by your upbringing. However, Pluto ultimately reveals where your power and influence lie in this life, making it one of the greatest tools to harness for your career, relationships, and daily life.

Neptune is the planet of the unseen, and your Neptune placement reveals where you lack clarity. It represents areas of life that feel elusive, confusing, or difficult to grasp. For example, having Neptune in the fifth house may indicate struggles with understanding romance, self-expression, courting, or dating. These aspects of life may feel unclear or difficult to navigate.

Uranus is the planet of progression, and your Uranus placement reveals the areas of life where you feel driven to grow and evolve.

Jupiter is the planet of satiety, representing what you need in life to feel fulfilled, satisfied, and content.

Saturn is the planet of long-term goals, which is why it brings restriction and obligations—these are the challenges we face when pursuing long-term objectives. In this lifetime, Saturn represents what you should aim to achieve.

[callingitquits]

Johan Relationship Headcanons (Basic Outline)

Hey. First post. Hope you enjoy

Touch is Rare, but Loaded

Johan doesn’t initiate touch often. When he does, it’s purposeful. Either unsettling, comforting in a disorienting way, or startlingly gentle. A hand on the back of the neck, a brushing of fingers, lingering eye contact while staying just out of reach. His restraint is part of the seduction.

Emotional Distance

Johan operates from behind a veil. Even in a relationship, he keeps his core self guarded. He shares thoughts and feelings selectively, often as a way to provoke or test, rather than to bond. Vulnerability is not something he offers freely. If he does, it’s deliberate and loaded.

He Watches You Sleep

Not in a romantic sense…in a knowing one. He watches because it’s when you’re most defenseless, most yourself. Not to protect. Not to admire. Just to understand. There’s always a method behind the stillness in him.

Devotion in Obsession

If Johan becomes attached, it’s not in halves. It’s in totality. His version of ‘love’ is consuming, but not loud. He fixates, learns everything, observes always. He won’t say it. He might not even call it love. But he sees the other person as uniquely his, even if the world burns.

Jealousy is Subtle but Dangerous

Johan won’t make a scene. He won’t say he’s jealous. But you’ll notice the tension. The small smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. The shift in tone. The sudden interest in the person who was too close to you. If he feels threatened, the consequences are quiet but permanent.

Almost Domesticity

He makes tea with precision. Folds your blankets when you’re not looking. Puts your favorite song on quietly before you wake up. There’s an eerie calm to the way he does small things for you.

He Remembers Everything

Even things you said once, in passing. Even the way your face looked when you said it. He remembers and reintroduces them like gifts: your favorite flower on the table, your birthday you never talk about, your offhand wish quietly granted.

He Likes to Be Understood But Not Too Much

Johan longs to be seen, in some twisted way. But if you see too much—if you get too close to the monster in him…he’ll either pull away or challenge you, to see if you’ll still stay. He’s always testing thresholds.

Love Is Not a Cure

Even if Johan loves someone…he is still who he is. He doesn’t soften easily. He doesn’t become safe. The relationship will always exist under a certain tension, a constant questioning: Is this real? Am I real? He can love deeply, but that love will never be innocent.

He Loves in Secrets and Silences

He won’t say it. Probably never will. But he’ll sit beside you after you cry and hand you a glass of water. He’ll reread your favorite book just to understand you better. He’ll keep the note you left him in his coat pocket until it fades. His love is a ghost in the room.

Protective Without Announcement

He’ll never say “I’m here for you.” He’ll just be there. When something scares you, he’s already standing between you and it. You won’t know how he knew, just that he did. He’s not loud about his protectiveness, but it’s absolute.

He Touches You Like You’re Breakable

Every touch is slow, thoughtful, like you’re something he was told never to touch, but can’t help himself. Fingers on your jaw, brushing your hair back, resting a hand against your back when you tremble. He touches rarely, but when he does, it’s reverent.

His Version of “I Love You”

He won’t say it. But it’ll come out in ways like:

“You’re shaking.”

“Don’t go off wandering again.”

“Will you still be here in the morning?”

Johan shows love through concern disguised as observation, in questions laced with fear he won’t admit.

Love Feels Like a Threat to Him

The closer you get, the more unstable he becomes. You become the one variable he can’t control. It terrifies him, even if he never says it. He’ll try to push you away just to see if you’ll go. And if you do…he’ll feel it like a knife.

There Are Things He’ll Never Tell You

No matter how close you get, there will always be locked doors. Secrets he keeps not to protect you, but to protect control. You might beg to understand him. He might smile, even touch your face, and say, “Some things are better left unsaid.”

He Lies to You, But Never Directly

He doesn’t say “I didn’t do that.” He says “Why would I?” Or “That’s not what matters right now.” He misdirects. Omits. Gives partial truths, especially about his past, about where he goes, what he’s done. And you know—deep down—but he’s so calm, so convincing, you stop pushing.

He Controls Through ‘Kindness’

He never tells you not to do something. He simply suggests you avoid certain people. He helps you rearrange your routine. He gives you soft reasons: “You don’t seem yourself after seeing them” Until your world orbits only around him. It looks like love. It’s really a cage.

He Pushes Until You Break, Just to See

Sometimes, he wants to know how far he can go. He’ll say something cruel: “Maybe you’re not as different from them as you think” and watch you crumble. And afterward? He’ll comfort you like he didn’t cause it. Stroking your hair, whispering, “It’s alright, I’m still here.”

He Prepares for the End Constantly

Even on your best days, Johan is quietly preparing for the end. He memorizes your face, the sound of your breath, the pattern of your routines. Not because he’s sentimental, but because he’s already saying goodbye in his head. Love, to him, is always temporary. Always doomed.

He Dreams of Losing You. Then Tries to Make It Happen

Sometimes he dreams of you leaving. Dying. Forgetting him. And then he tests it in reality. He’ll withdraw. Say something cruel. Push just a little too far, just to see if you’ll go. And when you don’t? He’s relieved. And quietly disgusted with himself.

He Knows You’re Better Off Without Him

He knows wholeheartedly that he’s a danger to you. And yet he stays. He stays because you make him feel, and he’s selfish enough to want that. Even knowing he could be your undoing. It eats at him.

He Thinks He’ll Break You. Slowly, Quietly, and Permanently

He’s always watching for cracks in you. Not to exploit them, but to confirm what he already believes: that being near him hurts you. And yet he doesn’t leave. He just watches the slow unraveling and wonders if he’ll recognize you when it’s done.

He Thinks the Most Loving Thing He Can Do For You Is Leave

One day, he may just walk away. Not because he stopped loving you. Far from it. But because he thinks it’s the only way to protect you from himself. It won’t be dramatic. No goodbyes. Just silence, and absence, and a hole shaped like his name.

He Can’t Handle Being Forgiven

Apologies aren’t in his nature, but if you offer him grace—if you say, “It’s okay,” you’ll see something flicker in him. Not gratitude. Not peace. Shame. A deep, almost childlike confusion. He doesn’t know what to do with being accepted.

[societyfolklore]

Stolen Devotion – Part 1

Title: Stolen Devotion – Part 1

Pairing: Stalker!Bucky Barnes Female Reader

Fic Summary:  You don’t know he exists. But Bucky Barnes has been watching you- learning your patterns, your loneliness, your pain. What started as curiosity has turned into something deeper, darker. Ignore by your husband, dismissed by your mother, you move through life like a ghost. But Bucky sees you. Bucky understands you. And Bucky has decided you belong to him.

Word Count: 2.9k

Warnings: / Explicit Content / 18+, Minors DNI, Possessive/ Obsessive behaviour. Dub Con/Non Con (eventually), Dubious Morality, General dark themes, Emotional Neglect and Marital Issues, Stalking, Pinning, Masturbation, Voyeurism.  Eventual Smut  

A/N:  This isn’t connected to ApplePie (just encase anyone thought it was.. its not) This currently doesn’t have a unload schedule.. updates will come when they come.. (hopefully monthly)

The night was quiet, the air thick with the scent of damp earth and freshly cut grass. Bucky stood near the shed, swallowed by the shadows, his breath slow and steady as he watched the warm glow of the kitchen window. The contrast between the golden light spilling from inside and the oppressive darkness around him made his pulse quicken. It was intimate, the way he could stand here, unseen, yet so close. Like he was already a part of her world, even if you didn't know it yet.

There you were, standing over the sink, washing dishes. Your movements were slow, almost mechanical, as though she was moving through water, dragged down by something unseen. He studied the way her fingers curled around the plate, how the suds slid down her wrist, dripping into the sink. The way her shoulders slumped, her head tilting forward as if the weight of the day had physically pressed her down. She was tired. She was always tired.

It had started as just curiosity. At first, it had been enough to linger in places you'd had been, to pick up on your patterns without even realizing it. But then he'd found himself needing more. Watching you became habit, then necessity.

You had seemed so alone. He had felt it- smelled it, almost. The weight of it settled on you like a permanent shadow, stretching long behind you,  inescapable. Loneliness clung to you like a second skin, something you'd clearly grown used to wearing. Bucky knew that kind of loneliness. The kind that burrowed into your chest and hollowed you out, leaving nothing but quiet ache and a desperate, gnawing need to be seen. He remembered it from the war, from HYDRA, from the years afterward when his reflection had felt like a stranger. It wasn’t just sadness. It was the absence of something vital, something necessary to keep existing. And you were drowning in it, just like he had.

Watching had been enough, an attempt to know you observing, you were safe because he was there.

But now? Now it frustrated him.

You didn't even know he existed… not yet. But he saw you. Bucky knew you better than anyone. Better than you husband, better than the people she called family, the ones who never really listened. They didn’t see the way you shrank when you tried to share, how your smiles never reached your eyes anymore. How you'd had stopped singing to herself when you cooked. Bucky had even noticed they your hands shook now when you reached for your husband. 

Bucky was always looking.

But there was something was different tonight. There was a weight in your posture, a heaviness in the way your shoulders curled inward, an attempt to disappear. His brows furrowed as he studied you, his fingers twitching at his sides. He needed to know what had happened today- why you moved like a your throat was stuck in a noose.

He would check the footage later. The camera inside the house would tell him everything. It always did.

For now, he just watched as she scrubbed a plate, her hands methodical, detached. As if she wasn’t really there. As if she had already faded away.

The more he watched, the harder it became to resist the pull inside him, the voice that whispered that he should go to her, should break through the back door and wrap himself around her, press his lips to her temple, breathe her in until the cloud lifted. He could already see it- the way you’d lean into him if he gave you the chance, the way you might even sigh, as your body recognizing that you were finally safe, finally wanted and belonged. With him. He would hold you up when you felt like falling, steady you when the weight of life threatened to break you back down.

You would look at him, really look at him, and you would know. It was supposed to be Bucky, That you had been waiting for him all along.

And he would make you smile again. He was so sure. 

Swallowing hard Bucky put aside the dream and watched you stare blankly at the sink. The knife twisting, deep and aching in his stomach. His fingers reaching inside his jacket. Tucked in the inner pocket, was you journal. His proof. His tether to her. Bucky had memorized the pages, the way your handwriting looped in hurried, frantic scrawls when she was anxious, the way you drew tiny stars in the margins when you felt hopeful. And that was why he had to do this. Why he had to make sure you see what he saw. He was perfect for you, like you were for him. Even if you  just didn’t know it yet.

~#~#~#~#~#~

The hum of machines filled the laundromat, a steady, rhythmic backdrop to the occasional clatter of loose change against metal. The air smelled faintly of detergent and heat, warm and artificial, like every laundromat he had ever stepped into. It was late, the kind of late where most people had already gone home, leaving only a few night-dwellers to finish their routines in silence.

Bucky hadn’t come here for anything other than laundry. Just another errand. Another forgettable task.

He moved toward an empty row of machines, his footsteps muffled against the linoleum floor. The fluorescent lights above buzzed faintly, casting a dull glow over the space. He reached into the canvas bag slung over his shoulder, pulling out a bundle of clothes- they were stained, stiff with sweat and the scent of his own skin, the lingering trace of metal and gun oil clinging to the fabric.

Methodically, he began sorting, separating darks from lights, pressing his fingers into the fabric as if feeling the past days imprinted there. Shirts, pants, socks, each piece sliding between his fingers, dropping into the machine with a soft thud. The rhythm of it was almost soothing, mechanical, thoughtless.

That’s when he heard you.

A voice, soft but carrying through the space, frayed at the edges with something he recognized too well.  “I don’t know, Mom, I just… I just thought maybe he’d want to. That he’d try a little.”

Bucky reached for the detergent, unscrewing the cap with a flick of his wrist, the sharp, artificial scent filling his nose as he poured the thick liquid into the dispenser. The sound of water rushing in, he shouldn't eavesdrop.  “No, I’m not saying he doesn’t care, I just- ”

He closed the lid, pressed the button, and stepped back. Another task completed. Another minute filled. Your voice carried through the space, soft yet worn, as if every word was carefully chosen, every syllable a quiet plea to be heard. There was no anger in your tone, no raised voice- just exhaustion. The kind that settled deep in the bones, that stretched out over years and never really left.

"I am tryin-" 

The words cut off abruptly. Bucky knew why. He could hear it, the shift in your posture, the way your spine straightened as if bracing for something inevitable. He glanced over without meaning to, drawn to the sight of you gripping the phone tighter, your knuckles whitening with the effort of holding back whatever you wanted to say next.

“Oh.. uh-huh. Yeah. No, I know. I know. You’re right.”

The resignation in your voice settled over you like a second skin, wrapping around you until it became part of your form. Bucky knew that weight. He had carried it before. The kind of loneliness that turned your voice into something hollow, that made your own words feel foreign, useless. He had been there, in the silence after, when you stopped expecting to be heard at all. “Yeah. No, I’m listening Mom." 

He watched, unnoticed, as you moved, your fingers loosening, releasing the tension only when you finally pulled the phone away from your ear. You let out a breath- a shaky, barely-there exhale, the kind that people gave when they were used to being disappointed. He could hear the other voice on the phone too, the conversation had been changed on you. 

Bucky watched as you set your journal down, distracted, stepping away to collect your clothes from the dryer.

"Oh really? That much for dinner? God.. Yeah? I can send you some money-"  

He shouldn’t have been watching, but he was. The way your fingers skimmed the fabric, methodical, folding each piece with quiet precision. Then, with a quick check of your pocket, you counted your last few coins- and left them there.

A kindness for a stranger. Something that would brighten someone else’s day.. 

No hesitation, no thought to it. Just something you did without needing to be acknowledged. Then, for the briefest second, you smiled.

It was like you just lit up and a warmth crept into Bucky chest he'd forgotten was possible. 

A real smile. Soft. Private. Just for you.

And then- it was gone. Stolen away by whatever your mother said next.

"Mom, I said I'd transfer you something, you don't need to- No I'm not making you beg.. Mom. I'm just finishing laundry, give me a second to get to the car." 

Bucky felt something inside him crack.

Someone that kind shouldn’t look that unhappy.

You gathered your things, your shoulders curled inward, retreating back into yourself. And Bucky just stood there, watching you leave.  

The sound of the washer the only noise as he spotted the journal, abandoned on the plastic bench, the edges curling slightly from use.  Bucky scooped it but as he looked up going for the door he saw a car pull away. His fingers twitched, looking down at the beaten thing... Maybe there was an address written in it, your name even..  He wasn’t snooping. But then his eyes landed on the first few lines. And he couldn’t stop reading. Under the harsh fluoro lights Bucky flicked through pages. He knew it was wrong, that there was something so intimate about it, the way your thoughts spilled onto the pages like quiet confessions, things you probably never said out loud. He could hear your voice in them, the way your words faltered in some places, the way you'd crossed things out but still left them readable as if you wanted to take them back but couldn’t.

Some pages were filled with long, rambling entries, streams of consciousness that read like a desperate attempt to untangle the thoughts.. Others were empty, just a date at the top, as if you'd had sat down to write but found nothing left to say. Those pages were the ones that made his chest ache the most. Because he understood them. The silence. The emptiness.

And then, near the back, a list. Small, written in neat, deliberate handwriting:

Call Mom back.

Buy more coffee - Extra strong 

Get his beer - not the 'cheap stuff'

Get bread - Don't buy the one with seeds

Remember to breathe.

It doesn’t matter anyway.

Bucky stared at the last line, his jaw tightening. It doesn’t matter anyway.

He felt something sharp twist inside him.

Because it did matter.

She mattered.

And if no one else saw it then he would.

~#~#~#~#~#~

Bucky moved around the side of the house, following you from the kitchen to the living room, curled into the corner of the couch, the TV casting pale light across your face. Some drama played, but you weren’t really watching. You were just… existing, lost in the glow of something meant to be distracting.

Your husband was in the bedroom, phone in hand, oblivious to you. Just like always.

How was Bucky supposed to get to know you the right way? He should have just walked up to you back then found a way into your life that didn’t involve hiding in the shadows. But modern life wasn’t easy for him. No matter how much Sam or Steve had tried to help, Bucky barely understood how to hold conversations anymore, how to make small talk that wasn’t laced with the weight of everything.

The world had moved forward without him, and he was still stuck, unable to integrate, unable to connect.

He had tried dating. Sam had convinced him once. But it had felt all wrong, forced, complicated. He didn’t know how to navigate modern romance, didn’t know the rules. It had been exhausting, frustrating. It wasn’t like before, when things had been simpler, clearer.

But he did know how to track, how to plan, how to execute.

Watching you had become his new mission.

Until he could figure out how to save you from this life you felt trapped in

Bucky checked his watch, and like clockwork, in came your husband and announced his departure. Just like every week- Tuesday, Thursday, and Saturday nights were 'for the boys,' and he was out, leaving you alone.

Bucky barely breathed as he stood in the darkness, watching through the thin veil of curtains as your husband bent down to kiss you goodbye, his hand groping at your chest before pulling away. The sight made Bucky’s jaw tighten, his hand balling into fist. Your husband didn’t notice the way you bristled, the way you shifted uncomfortably on the couch. He didn’t see the fleeting grimace, the way your shoulders curled inward just slightly, your body tensing under the unwanted touch.

But Bucky did.

The way your expression turned hollow, how your lips pressed together, how you wiped your mouth with the back of your hand the second your husband turned away. A quick motion, one so practiced, Bucky knew you had done it countless times before.

And then you called after him, an empty, mechanical, "I love you."

How did he not hear the pain in your voice?

How did he not see?

Bucky stood frozen, his pulse hammering as your husband grabbed his keys, barely sparing you another glance before heading out the door. Just like that, you were alone again.

I won’t hurt you. I’ll just take care of you..

You sat on the couch and drank two glasses of wine far to quickly for Bucky's liking.  How badly did want to numb yourself tonight? 

Bucky watched as you retreat to the bedroom. Again Bucky moved fast and silent to the side opposite side of the house, the curtain would be drawn now, he'd be unable to see so the former assassin pulled out his phone to watch the live camera feed.

You'd already gotten on the bed, stripped off having found something on your phone to excite you.

This is what you do at nights when your alone.

Well when you think you’re alone.

Bucky stared at his screen watching you, eyes half-lidded, mouth parted, fingers slippedbetween your thighs, your breathing slow and deep as you lost yourself in the moment. His enhanced hearing meant he could listen through the window without the aid of the microphone, though that’s recording you anyway..  The glow from the bedside lamp casts long, soft shadows, highlighting the curve of your body beneath on top the sheets, the way your hips shifted, the tension building inside you.

It’s different than when your husband is with you. When that idiot rolls on top of you grunting and rutting while you fake every noise.

No, these moment, this pleasure-  This is real.

Bucky watches, transfixed. The way your fingers move, languid and deliberate, chasing something only you know how to give yourself. He can hear the faintest sound, the breathy little gasps escaping your lips. 

I know what you looks like when your lost in it. He doesn’t.

His hand gripped his phone tighter. He should stop watching. He should shut off the screen, turn away, step back. he can rewatch this in his own apartment but he doesn’t.

The ache in his chest sharpens into something else. Something darker. Something he can’t ignore.

Bucky hand slips into his pants, wrapping around his cock, the rough drag of his palm sending a shudder through him as he matches your rhythm. He's so hard it hurt. Bucky bite down hard on his lip, forcing himself to stay quiet. Every noise you make sends a pulse of heat through him, fuels the twisted hunger that has taken root in his chest. As your fingers plunge in an out of yourself your other hand rubbing circles around that little button of yours. 

You arch your back, your fingers curling, your breath hitching just slightly as you chase that peak. His grip tightens, his strokes faster now, heat curling in his spine.

Wish it was me. Wish I was the one making you sound like that.

He can imagine it- his hands on your hips, his fingers sliding over your slick skin, his mouth covering yours to swallow every moan, every whimper. You’d let him, you would. You’d gasp his name, melt into his touch, beg him not to stop. He wouldn’t. He’d give you what you needed, what you deserved. He’d ruin you for anyone else. He’d stretch you open, watch your cunt clench around him, struggling to take all of him, making you feel every inch until you were trembling, pleading for more. You’d be so tight, so perfect, made to take him, made to be his.

His breath stutters, muscles tensing as the heat coils impossibly tight, and then-

His release is hot, sticky, spilling over his hand, his jaw clenched to keep from groaning your name into the night. He breathes hard, chest rising and falling, the remnants of pleasure thrumming through his veins.

His gaze drifts back to you, still lost in the aftershocks of your own pleasure, unaware that someone had just come apart watching you.

Bucky swallows, heart hammering.

At least he feels close to you.

[mononijikayu]

ikaw lang— fushiguro megumi.

"Thanks. he muttered, his voice softer this time, almost shy. He still wasn’t used to letting people in, but for some reason, with you, it didn’t feel so bad. You smiled again, that same warm smile that made something inside him flutter. "Anytime." you replied, and Megumi knew you meant it. “Let me take care of you again, okay? When this happens.” “......You didn’t need to—” You shake your head, smile even wider.  “But I want to, okay?”

GENRE: Alternate Universe - Canon Convergence;

WARNING/s: Fluff, Romance, First Love, First Meeting, Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, Light-Hearted, Slice of Life, Friendship, Confessions, Humor, Mutual Affection, Love, Pining, Hugging, Mention of Injury, Mention of Fighting, Mention of Blood, Depiction of Medical Aid, Fushiguro Megumi is In Love, Sorcerer! Megumi, Non-Sorcerer!Reader, Megumi and Reader Are A Bit Older;

WORDS: 6.5k words.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: this song is really cute. i should rest after this because ive been writing all the other poll related works and my eyes hurts. i might open commissions some time so i can get new glasses 🤔 but anyway, i hope you like this as much as i do. i love you so much 🫶

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if you want to, tip! <3

:•:•:•:•:•:•:•:•☾☼☽•:•.•:•.•:•:•:•:

HE WONDERS WHAT HE DID TO BE THIS HAPPY. Fushiguro Megumi often finds himself lost in thought, trying to piece together how he ended up with someone like you as his lover. It’s a mystery to him, one that he turns over and over in his mind, especially in the quiet moments when he watches you from across the room.

The two of you couldn’t be more different. Megumi has always been reserved, the kind of person who prefers the solace of a quiet corner, away from the spotlight. He’s never been one to seek attention, content to blend into the background, observing rather than participating. 

And then there’s you, today. The person he loves the most.

You, who are the complete opposite of everything he thought he needed. You walk into a room and light it up effortlessly, drawing people to you like a lighthouse in a rough storm. Your presence is magnetic, radiant—wherever you go, you leave a trail of warmth and joy, like the sun casting light on everything in its path. If the sun existed in Megumi’s universe, it would undoubtedly be you, the brightest star in his sky, illuminating even the darkest parts of his world.

Sometimes, Fushiguro Megumi wonders how someone like you could ever be drawn to someone like him. He’s not flashy, not outgoing or overly expressive. But then, you’ve never needed him to be. From the moment you met, you saw something in him that no one else did. You didn’t mind his quiet nature; in fact, you seemed to appreciate it, to cherish the way he found comfort in the shadows while you thrived in the light.

Every time Megumi sees you, his heart races uncontrollably. It’s a feeling he can’t quite describe, this mixture of awe and disbelief that he’s lucky enough to have you by his side. You have a way of making him feel things he never thought possible—emotions that run deep and wild, far beyond the calm exterior he usually shows the world.

And whenever you flash him that smile, the one he loves so much, he feels his composure slip. His face turns scarlet, his heart stumbles over itself, and he panics slightly, wondering how he’ll ever survive the intensity of his feelings for you.

But what truly leaves Megumi breathless are your eyes.

He’s always been captivated by them, even before he realized he loved you. There’s something in the way your eyes shine that draws him in, that makes him feel like he’s seeing something otherworldly. When you look at him, it’s like the rest of the world fades away, leaving only the two of you in a moment of pure, unfiltered connection.

Your eyes are windows to your soul, reflecting every emotion, every thought, every ounce of love you hold for him. And Megumi, who is often so unsure of himself, finds a sense of peace and belonging in those eyes. They are his sanctuary, his guiding light, the proof that he’s not alone in this world.

Sometimes, when you catch him staring, you’ll tilt your head and ask him what he’s thinking. And every time, Megumi struggles to find the right words, because how can he possibly explain the way you make him feel? How can he put into words the overwhelming mixture of gratitude, love, and fear that courses through him whenever he’s with you? All he knows is that, in those moments, he’s reminded of just how extraordinary you are, and how incredibly lucky he is to have you.

You are the sun in his universe, the brightest star in his sky, and with every passing day, Megumi falls deeper in love with you. And even though he’s not always able to express it, he hopes that when you look into his eyes, you can see just how much you mean to him—how much he adores every part of you, and how grateful he is to share his life with someone as wonderful as you.

Each time you raise your head and let Megumi gaze into your eyes, he’s struck by how they seem to shimmer with an otherworldly light. It’s not just the way they sparkle, but the depth and complexity they hold within them, as if your eyes contain entire galaxies, full of stars, planets, and endless mysteries.

To Megumi, your eyes are like a universe unto themselves—vast, beautiful, and impossible to fully comprehend. He can never quite find the words to describe the wonder they bring him, because, in truth, they’re unlike anything he’s ever known. They’re out of this world, something magical and extraordinary that he’s lucky enough to witness every day.

And every day, Megumi is reminded of just how fortunate he is to have you by his side. There are moments when he’s caught off guard by the simple yet profound realization that someone as remarkable as you chose him.

He’ll be lost in thought, or caught up in the routine of daily life, and then you’ll look at him, your eyes meeting his, and all those thoughts scattered like leaves in the wind. In those moments, nothing else matters—just the connection between you, the unspoken bond that ties your hearts together.

Megumi finds that the most beautiful part of his day is when you look back at him. Your eyes, shining with a brilliance that words can’t quite capture, speak volumes in a language only the two of you understand. They tell him of the abundant love you hold for him, a love that fills his heart with warmth and light.

He’s always been shy, a little reserved, and sometimes he struggles to put his feelings into words. But when you look at him with those sparkling eyes, he wishes he could find the courage to tell you just how much it feels like heaven on Earth when you let him see the hearts hidden behind the bright beam of your gaze.

Megumi knows that you’re patient with him, that you understand his quiet nature, but sometimes he worries that he doesn’t show you enough how deeply he loves you. He wishes he could be more expressive, that he could find the words to tell you everything he feels.

But when words fail him, he hopes that you can see it in the way he looks at you—in the way his breath catches, in the way his heart races, in the way he’s completely and utterly captivated by you.

To Megumi, your eyes are not just beautiful—they are a reflection of the love you have for him, a love that he treasures more than anything in the world. Every glance you share, every moment your eyes meet his, is a reminder of how lucky he is to have found someone like you. And even though he may never fully grasp the magic you bring into his life, he knows that he will spend every day trying to show you just how much you mean to him.

To Megumi, it feels like stars might actually be falling from the sky, captured in the light of your gaze. Every moment he gets to see those eyes, he feels like he's witnessing something otherworldly, something that makes all the differences between you melt away, leaving only the overwhelming love he has for you.

Even though Megumi isn’t always good with words, he sometimes wishes that you could simply look into his eyes and just know that he loves you more than anything in the world. He hopes that you no longer feel the need to ask over and over, like you used to, because the truth is, you’re the only one he has ever truly loved—and the only one he ever will.

But sometimes, a nagging doubt creeps into his mind. He worries that his quietness might not be enough to convince you of how much you mean to him. He fears that he’s not doing enough to show you just how deeply he cares, because he struggles to express his feelings out loud. Yet, despite those fears, Megumi is determined to try harder, to find ways to show you his love so that you never have to doubt it.

If there were a way, Megumi wishes you could look into his heart and believe without a shadow of a doubt that you are the only one his heart has ever loved. And as he gazes at you now, he silently hopes that you can feel the depth of his affection in the way he looks at you, even if the words aren’t always there.

Fushiguro Megumi vividly remembers the first time he saw you for the first time. That was that day, during middle school. It was an ordinary day, and he wasn’t expecting anything to change. And for that change to be for the best.

He was known for being a bit of a loner, someone who kept to himself and occasionally got into trouble for his rebellious streak. He wasn’t exactly a model student, and most people gave him a wide berth, not wanting to get involved with someone who had a reputation for being a delinquent.

But then there was you, when you were younger.

He had just been reprimanded by one of the homeroom teachers for getting into another fight—something that had become more common as he struggled to navigate the challenges of his teenage years.

Or rather, just the annoyance he had for people he considered to be cruel, horrible people. But he supposed he was also angry, frustrated with the world, and on the verge of lashing out again when you approached him.

You were new, just transferred to the school, and Megumi was sure that you, like everyone else, would steer clear of him. But instead, you walked right up to him, your eyes full of concern rather than fear or judgment. You were like the sun blocking his eyes when he met you. You changed his whole world that day, he likes to think. 

"Hey! Are you okay?" you had said softly, your voice calm and soothing. "Oh no, you got some dirt on your shirt—is that a cut on your side?"

Fushiguro Megumi had been taken aback for a long time. The last time must have been when Gojo said he’s taking him and Megumi in. There were very few things that had Megumi fazed, stuck in his tracks, and at a loss for words.

Perhaps the act of kindness being shown to him was one of those points. But he doesn’t think you’ve blamed him. He wasn’t used to anyone talking to him like that—without the underlying wariness or caution. He didn’t know how to respond, so he just shrugged, trying to brush you off. 

“I’m fine.” he muttered, his tone gruff, hoping you would just drop it and leave him alone. "Don't worry about me. Move on."

But you didn’t leave. Instead, you stood your ground, your eyes filled with a concern that he hadn’t seen in a long time. It was as if you could see right through his tough exterior, straight to the part of him that was hurting, and you weren’t about to let it go unnoticed. You shook your head, your hands reaching out to gently tug at his sleeves, drawing his attention back to you.

When he finally looked at you, he was surprised to find that you seemed more distressed about his well-being than he was. There was a softness in your gaze, mixed with a quiet determination that caught him off guard.

"It doesn’t look like it! See? It hasn’t stopped bleeding. you replied gently, your voice free of any reproach, but filled with genuine worry. 

Megumi followed your gaze to the cut on his arm, a wound he hadn’t given much thought to in the heat of the moment. But seeing the concern etched on your face made him pause.

You hesitated for a moment, as if unsure of how to proceed, before speaking again. "But if you don’t want to talk about it, that’s okay. I just… I just wanted to make sure you’re alright." 

“Don’t worry about me—”

Your voice wavered slightly, betraying the depth of your concern, and it made something inside Megumi’s chest tighten. "At least maybe let me help you clean that nasty cut."

Megumi blinked, taken aback by your persistence. He was used to people either ignoring him or chastising him for getting into trouble, but you were different. You weren’t trying to fix him or tell him what to do—you were simply offering to help, to be there for him in a way that no one else had been. It was a kindness he wasn’t used to, and he didn’t quite know how to respond.

For a moment, he considered brushing you off, telling you he didn’t need any help, that he could handle it on his own. But something in your eyes stopped him. There was a sincerity there, a genuine desire to take care of him, and it made him realize how rare it was for someone to care like that.

"Fine." he finally grumbled, though his voice had lost its earlier edge. He couldn’t quite bring himself to meet your gaze, instead focusing on the ground as he added, "But it’s really not that bad."

You didn’t seem convinced, but you didn’t push him further. Instead, you smiled—a small, relieved smile that made his chest feel warm in a way he wasn’t used to. "Let’s just get it cleaned up, okay?" you said softly, leading him to a nearby bench.

As you carefully tended to his wound, Megumi found himself stealing glances at you, wondering why you cared so much. You were new to the school, new to his world, and yet here you were, going out of your way to make sure he was alright. It was strange, but also… comforting.

"Why do you care?" he asked quietly, surprising even himself with the question. It wasn’t something he’d meant to say out loud, but now that the words were out there, he couldn’t take them back.

You paused, looking up at him with those kind, worried eyes. "Because you deserve it." you replied simply, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "Everyone deserves to be cared for, you know?"

Your words hung in the air between you, and for a moment, Megumi didn’t know what to say. He’d never thought of himself as someone who deserved kindness, especially not from someone like you. But hearing you say it so matter-of-factly made him wonder if maybe, just maybe, you were right.

You took Megumi to the nurse’s office, your concern evident in every step you took. He had tried to brush off the cut on his arm as no big deal, but you weren’t having any of it. As you entered the office, you headed straight for the supply cabinet, rummaging through it to find the emergency kit.

Megumi watched you with a mixture of apprehension and admiration. His face was tense, a mixture of discomfort and embarrassment clearly visible. He had never been one to draw attention to himself, especially not for something he considered minor. Yet here you were, focused and determined to make sure he was taken care of.

You pulled out the first aid kit and set it on the counter, your hands moving quickly and efficiently. “Alright, let’s get this cleaned up,” you said, your voice steady and reassuring.

Megumi shifted uncomfortably, clearly aware of the fuss you were making. “You didn’t have to go through all this trouble. It’s just a scratch,” he muttered, trying to downplay the situation.

You gave him a stern look as you began to clean the cut. “It’s not just a scratch if it’s bleeding. Besides, it’s my job to make sure you’re okay. You’ve been taking care of everyone else, so let me take care of you for once.”

He sighed, though he couldn’t help but feel a little comforted by your persistence. As you carefully applied the antiseptic and bandaged his arm, Megumi stole glances at you, noticing the focused expression on your face. Despite his initial resistance, he was grateful for your concern.

“You really don’t have to do this,” he said again, though his voice lacked conviction this time.

You glanced up at him with a small, reassuring smile. “I know, but I want to. You’ve always been there for me, and it’s only fair that I return the favor. Besides, you look like you’re in no condition to argue right now.”

Megumi managed a small, appreciative smile despite his discomfort. “Thanks. I guess I’m just not used to this… kind of attention.”

You finished wrapping the bandage and patted his shoulder gently. “Well, get used to it. Because I’m not going to let you get away with not taking care of yourself. And don’t think I won’t be checking on you if you ever get hurt again.”

He looked at you, the tension in his face easing as he met your gaze. “I’ll try not to get hurt then. Or at least try to let you know before it gets this bad.”

You laughed softly, your eyes crinkling with warmth. “Good. And remember, if you ever need anything—whether it’s help with a cut or just someone to talk to—I’m always here for you.”

Megumi’s heart swelled with a mix of gratitude and affection. Even though he had tried to downplay the situation, your unwavering concern made him feel valued in a way he hadn’t felt before. He knew that no matter what happened, he could always count on you to be by his side.

As you finished bandaging his cut, Megumi felt a strange sense of calm settle over him. For the first time in a long while, he didn’t feel so alone. Maybe it was because of the way you looked at him, or the way you didn’t push him to talk about things he wasn’t ready to share. Or maybe it was just because you were there, offering your help without expecting anything in return.

"Thanks....I guess." he muttered, his voice softer this time, almost shy. He still wasn’t used to letting people in, but for some reason, with you, it didn’t feel so bad.

You smiled again, that same warm smile that made something inside him flutter. "Anytime." you replied, and Megumi knew you meant it. “Let me take care of you again, okay? When this happens.”

“......You didn’t need to—”

You shake your head, smile even wider.  “But I want to, okay?”

He didn’t know how to reply. He rubs the back of his neck. “You’re a weird one.”

“EH!? But I’m not!”

As the two of you sat there, the world seemed to quiet down around him, leaving only the gentle presence of the person who had somehow managed to slip past his defenses and show him a kindness he hadn’t realized he was missing.

Megumi didn’t know what to say. He was used to people either avoiding him or giving him grief for his behavior, but you were different. You weren’t trying to lecture him or push him away. You were just… there, offering your kindness without expecting anything in return.

From that day on, you always treated him with the same patience and understanding, even when he continued to get into trouble. You never judged him, never scolded him. Instead, you listened, offering support when he needed it and giving him space when he didn’t. You seemed to see past the rough exterior, recognizing that there was more to him than just the delinquent reputation he had built.

At first, Megumi didn’t understand why you were so kind to him. He didn’t think he deserved it, and part of him expected you to give up on him eventually. But you never did. No matter how many times he got into trouble, you were always there, offering him a smile or a word of encouragement.

Slowly, he began to soften around you. He started to look forward to the moments when you would seek him out, your presence becoming a source of comfort in his otherwise turbulent life. You became his anchor, the person who made him believe that maybe he wasn’t as bad as he thought.

It wasn’t long before Megumi realized that his feelings for you had grown into something deeper. At first, he had tried to convince himself that what he felt was simply gratitude, an appreciation for the way you treated him with such genuine care and respect. But as time passed, he found himself thinking about you more and more, his thoughts lingering on the little moments you shared.

Like that time in the library, when you had insisted on helping him with his homework. Megumi had been struggling with a particularly difficult problem, his frustration mounting with each failed attempt to solve it. You had noticed his struggle and quietly slid your chair closer to his, gently guiding him through the problem with a patience that both surprised and comforted him.

“There, see? You’re getting it!” you had said, a bright smile lighting up your face as you watched him work through the problem.

Megumi had looked at you then, really looked at you, and something inside him had shifted. It was the way you had been so kind, so encouraging, without a hint of judgment or condescension. The way you had treated him like he mattered, like you genuinely wanted to see him succeed. It was a feeling that was foreign to him, yet it warmed him from the inside out.

Another moment had come when the two of you were walking home from school. It had started to rain unexpectedly, and Megumi had cursed himself for not bringing an umbrella. But before he could worry too much, you had pulled out your own and held it over both of you, smiling up at him as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

“Come on, let’s share. Can’t have you getting soaked.” you had said, your voice cheerful despite the downpour.

As the two of you walked side by side, your shoulders brushing occasionally, Megumi had felt his heart do a strange little flip. He hadn’t been able to stop himself from glancing at you out of the corner of his eye, noticing the way the raindrops clung to your hair, how your smile remained unwavering despite the weather.

In that moment, something had clicked for him. It wasn’t just your kindness that drew him to you—it was the way you made him feel safe, understood, and… cared for.

The realization had hit him one afternoon when you both were at the park. You had been talking animatedly about something, your hands gesturing as you spoke, your eyes sparkling with excitement.

Fushiguro Megumi had been content to just listen, watching the way your expressions changed with every word. And then, without warning, you had turned to him, catching him completely off guard with a look of such warmth and affection that it nearly knocked the breath out of him.

“What?” you had asked, laughing lightly when you noticed the way he was staring.

Megumi had opened his mouth to respond, but no words had come out. Instead, he had felt a strange mix of emotions bubbling up inside him—nervousness, excitement, something that felt suspiciously like hope. It was then that he realized: this wasn’t just friendship or simple admiration. It was something deeper, something more.

He liked you. A lot.

The thought had sent a rush of warmth through his chest, leaving him both exhilarated and terrified. Megumi wasn’t used to these kinds of feelings, and he wasn’t sure what to do with them. But as he looked at you, standing there with that bright smile on your face, he knew one thing for certain—he wanted to be around you, to make you smile like that as often as he could.

“Nothing.” he had finally managed to say, a small, shy smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “I was just… thinking.”

“Thinking about what?” you had asked, tilting your head curiously.

Megumi had hesitated for a moment, but then he had decided to be honest, even if he couldn’t say everything that was on his mind. “About how… I like spending time with you.”

Your smile had grown even brighter at his words, and you had reached out to lightly punch his arm in that playful way you always did. “Well, I like spending time with you too, Megumi.”

And just like that, Megumi had known that he was done for. He liked you—really liked you. And even though the thought scared him, it also filled him with a strange sense of happiness, one that he wasn’t sure he’d ever felt before. From that moment on, Megumi couldn’t deny it anymore. He liked you, and he wanted to see where these feelings would take him.

Looking back, Megumi often finds himself reflecting on how profoundly different his life might have been if you hadn’t approached him that day. It was a pivotal moment, one that he now sees as the turning point in his journey.

Before you, he had felt like a perpetual outsider—misunderstood, labeled as a troublemaker, and largely ignored by those around him. He had been resigned to his role, to the way people saw him, without much hope for change or growth.

But then you came into his life, a beacon of kindness and patience in a world that had been mostly indifferent. You saw something in him that no one else had—a potential for change, a person worth caring for. Your approach had been gentle but resolute, offering him a friendship and understanding that he hadn’t known he needed.

You didn’t judge him for his mistakes or his quiet demeanor; instead, you reached out to him with a genuine concern for his well-being. It was this unassuming kindness that started to crack open the hardened shell he had built around himself.

Now, years later, Megumi often wonders if he would have ever found the strength to change if it hadn’t been for you. He thinks about the way you had treated him back then, how your unwavering support had slowly begun to reshape his view of himself.

It was as if you had quietly whispered to him that he was worth something, that he had the potential to be better, and that there was more to him than just the surface-level troubles. And in doing so, you had planted a seed of hope and self-worth that gradually grew into something stronger and more resilient.

As the two of you sit together now, the evening sun casting a warm, golden glow through the window, Megumi can’t help but be reminded of how far he’s come. The comfort and familiarity of your presence have become a cherished part of his life.

He often steals glances at you, unable to fully comprehend just how lucky he is to have someone like you by his side. The way you’re sitting there, so effortlessly at ease, makes his heart swell with a deep affection that words can hardly capture.

You’ve caught him staring more than once, and each time, you respond with that soft, knowing smile that makes his heart skip a beat. It’s a smile that reassures him, that reminds him of the love that started on that day in junior high, when you saw him not as a problem or a troublemaker, but as someone worthy of care and respect. That smile, simple yet profound, continues to be a source of comfort and joy for him, a daily reminder of how much you mean to him.

In those moments, as he looks at you and sees the warmth in your eyes and the gentle curve of your lips, Megumi is filled with a deep sense of gratitude. He thinks about how his life might have been different without your influence, and he realizes just how much you’ve changed him. The love he feels for you is rooted in that initial connection, and it has only grown deeper and stronger with time.

Megumi knows now that the love he has for you began with that first act of kindness you showed him, and it has only been enriched by the years you’ve spent together. As he sits there beside you, basking in the glow of the setting sun and the warmth of your presence, he can’t help but feel that he has found something truly extraordinary—something that started with a simple gesture of care and has blossomed into a love that he never thought possible.

You lean in slightly, noticing how quiet he’s been. "Megumi. Oiiiiiii, Megu–Megu~ Gumiiiiii!”

He sighed, looking at you. You have energy again, after resting. “What is it?”

“You truly okay?" you ask, your voice gentle and inviting.

He hesitates, his cheeks turning a light shade of pink. "It’s nothing. Don’t worry about me.” he mumbles, looking down at his hands, fidgeting slightly. "Just thinking about the past. Nostalgia."

You tilt your head, your eyes sparkling with curiosity and affection. You smiled. "You’re always so cute, Megumi.” You sighed, as you reached out gently to touch his hand. ”You’ve been staring at me all evening. If you have something to say, you can tell me, okay?”

Megumi swallows, gathering his courage. "It’s just… your eyes…" he finally says, his voice barely above a whisper. "They’re… really beautiful. And just…..you. I think how lucky I am to be with you.”

You blink in surprise, not expecting such a heartfelt compliment from him. "Oh, my beloved Megumi." you murmur, feeling a warmth spread through your chest. "Thank you."

Megumi slowly looks up at you then, his own eyes filled with a tender sincerity that makes your heart flutter. He took a breath before letting his eyes wander at the sight of you, his beloved marvel. His wonder in life. He gives you a faint smile. 

"When you look at me like that… it feels like I’m seeing stars." he continues, his voice growing softer, more vulnerable. "Like… every time I see your eyes, it’s the most beautiful part of my day. And… I don’t know how to say this right, but… it’s like there’s love shining behind them, so much that it feels like heaven."

Your heart swells with emotion, and you squeeze his hand gently. You lifted his hand to your lips and looked at him tenderly as you pressed your lips against the top of his hand. He doesn’t know when his heart will calm down. But when it’s you, he doubts if it will ever happen. 

"Megumi, that’s one of the sweetest things you’ve ever said to me." you reply, your voice filled with warmth. "And just so you know, when I look at you, I feel the same way. You make every day feel like the brightest one I’ve ever had. Because when I look at you, I ask, ‘how did I deserve this boy?’ Because, you’re too good to me.”

He smiles shyly, his blush deepening as he takes in your words. "I’m glad….that you feel like I do too." he murmurs, his fingers intertwined with yours.

"I always will." You reassured him, grinning at him lovingly.

"I… I’m not good with words, but I want you to know how much you mean to me. Every time you look at me, it’s like… it’s like I’m the luckiest person in the world."

You lean in closer, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek. "You don’t have to say much, Megumi. I can see it in your eyes too." you whisper, your breath warm against his skin. “That’s more than enough for me, know that. Okay?”

Megumi’s heart swells, and for a moment, he forgets about his usual shyness. "I love you." he says softly, the words slipping out before he can stop them. “More than you’ll ever know.”

Your smile widens, your eyes shining even brighter. "I love you too, Megumi." you reply, your voice filled with the same sincerity and warmth that he sees in your gaze every day.

And in that moment, with your hands intertwined and your eyes locked, Fushiguro Megumi knows that there’s nothing more beautiful than the love you both share. And he truly believes that. He thinks that you’re the love of his life. And he has no intention of letting you go.

Megumi's heart races as the words hang in the air between you. He's never been the best at expressing his feelings, but something about being with you makes it easier—like the words come naturally when you're around. You pull back slightly, just enough to look into his eyes again, your own filled with the same warmth and love that makes his heart flutter. 

"You know, Megumi." you start, your voice soft and affectionate, "I always feel like I’m the luckiest person too. Because even when you're quiet or shy, I can feel everything you don’t say in the way you look at me. It’s like you’re telling me a million things with just a glance."

He bites his lip, trying to find the right words to respond. "It’s hard for me to… say things out loud sometimes. And it’s hard to be honest at times." he admits, his gaze lowering for a moment before meeting yours again. "But when I’m with you, it feels different. Because when I’m with you, I’m just….me.”

You smile at him, a soft, understanding smile that makes him feel even more at ease. "You don’t have to say everything, Megumi." you reassure him. "I can see it in your actions, in the way you care for me, and in those beautiful eyes of yours. You’re always telling me how you feel, even when you think you’re not. I love that about you, don’t worry.”

Megumi blushes, the compliment making him feel a mix of embarrassment and joy. "You… you think my eyes are beautiful?" he asks, his voice small, almost disbelieving.

"Of course I do." you reply, leaning in to rest your forehead against his. "They’re one of my favorite things about you. They’re so expressive, even when you’re being quiet. I can always tell what you’re feeling just by looking into them. Your eyelashes too. They’re always pretty!”

His breath hitches at the closeness, your words making his heart swell with emotion. "I… I’m glad you think that." he murmurs, his eyes locked onto yours. "Because… When I look at you, I see everything I could ever want.”

Your heart skips a beat at his confession, and you close the small distance between you, pressing a tender kiss to his lips. It’s soft, sweet, and full of the love that you both share, a love that needs no words to be understood.

When you pull back, you see that Megumi’s face is a deep shade of red, but there’s a small, content smile on his lips that makes your heart soar. "You really know how to say the perfect thing, don’t you?" you tease lightly, brushing a stray strand of hair away from his face.

He chuckles softly, his shyness momentarily forgotten as he looks at you with nothing but affection. "Only because it’s you." he replies, his voice steady and full of sincerity. "You make it easy."

You both sit there for a moment, just enjoying the comfort of each other’s presence. Megumi’s hand is still entwined with yours, and he gives it a gentle squeeze, as if to remind himself that this is real—that you’re real, and that you’re his.

"I never thought I’d be this happy, you know?" he admits quietly, almost as if he’s afraid that saying it out loud might break the spell. "But with you… it’s like every day is a dream."

You smile, your heart swelling with love for the boy who, despite his quiet demeanor, has given you more happiness than you ever imagined. "Then let’s keep dreaming together, Megumi." you whisper, leaning in for another kiss. "Because I never want this to end."

The warmth of the setting sun bathed the room in a golden hue, casting a gentle glow that seemed to amplify the intimacy of the moment. Megumi and you were nestled comfortably together, sharing a quiet sense of peace that had settled between you. This was paradise, Megumi thinks. This was heaven on earth. You and you alone, in his arms — he could not ask for anything more.

Megumi glanced at you again, his eyes reflecting the soft light. “What good did I do to be with you?”

You tilted your head, smiling at him with a mixture of curiosity and affection. “Why do you say that? What makes you feel that way? You did everything good. You do deserve me."

He hesitated, his gaze falling to the floor as he tried to find the right words. “It’s just… you’ve always been there for me, even when I didn’t really know what I needed. I was so closed off and messed up back then. But you saw something in me, something I didn’t even see in myself.”

You reached out, gently placing your hand on his cheek to lift his gaze to meet yours. “I saw a person who needed kindness and understanding, and I’m really glad I could be there for you. But you did the hard part, Megumi. You changed and grew, and that’s all you.”

He shook his head slightly, his eyes never leaving yours. “I couldn’t have done it without you. And now, every day with you feels like a gift. I keep thinking about how different things could have been if you hadn’t come into my life. It’s overwhelming sometimes.”

You chuckled softly, your fingers brushing his hair back from his forehead. “Well, I’m glad I did. And I’m glad you’re here with me now. It’s like we were meant to find each other, don’t you think?”

Megumi nodded slowly, his expression thoughtful. “Yeah, it does feel like that. I keep thinking about how we met and how everything just seemed to fall into place after that. It’s like you were the missing piece I didn’t know I needed.”

Your eyes sparkled with affection as you leaned closer. “And you were the person who showed me what it means to be patient and understanding. We’ve both learned so much from each other.”

He smiled, a rare, genuine smile that made his eyes crinkle at the corners. “You’ve made me a better person. I feel like I’ve become more open, more willing to trust and care. It’s all because of you.”

Your heart swelled at his words, and you wrapped your arms around him in a gentle hug. “I’m just glad I could be a part of your journey. And I’m excited for everything that’s still to come for us.”

Megumi returned the hug, holding you close as if he never wanted to let go. “Me too. I want to make sure I’m always there for you, supporting you just like you’ve supported me. I don’t want you to ever doubt how much you mean to me.”

You pulled back slightly to look into his eyes, a soft smile playing on your lips. “You don’t have to worry about that. I know exactly how much I mean to you. And I’ll always be here for you, just like you’ve always been there for me.”

As the two of you sat together, the warmth of the setting sun casting a gentle glow over the room, Megumi felt an overwhelming sense of contentment. He knew that with you by his side, every day would be brighter, every challenge more bearable.

And as he looked into your eyes, he realized that the love he felt was a constant, reassuring presence—one that made everything feel right in the world.