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#apathy is approaching
pink-november · 4 months
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slay the princess swap aus are precious things to me cuz it's where i get blessed to see how the long quiet will be able to hold his voices and say his thoughts on them with the same tenderness and care the shifting mound shows to her vessels in game
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petr1kov · 1 year
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i love how undertale's fourth wall breaks and metanarrative work to make you sympathize more with the in-game characters. it'd be so easy to use that concept to make them seem more 'real' somehow or simply lean on the horrific side of this (and that concept did play a big part in the narrative) but ultimately, what undertale strives to do is to make you really, really care for these characters while always reminding you of their decidedly fictional nature, because you don't need to forget that in order to appreciate the game for what it is
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thesixthstar · 11 months
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Love the continuing trend of nurses just like. Leaving me in a room alone for 30 minutes after going “doctor will be in in a moment! :)” or even “I’ll be back in a moment! :)”
Like I took time off work and got here on time I would love for anyone to even pop their head in and say “hey it’s gonna be a few extra minutes sorry” but the more I show up to any medical appointment the more I get the impression that no doctor or nurse I’ve ever met (with the exception of my breast reduction surgeon) wants to do Anything Ever, let alone treat a patient.
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da-riya · 9 months
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Okay I'm getting bored enough that I might actually be able to get some work done
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carbonateddelusion · 10 months
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I feel like all of (or most of) Bored Game's characters being gnc, trans, nb, etc. really fits with the notion of the MC struggling with their gender identity
like... it's pretty obvious, but it's drawing from personal experience. I'm putting a lot of myself into it. and therefore, MC puts a lot of themself into the stuff THEY make. even though I obviously don't want MC to be a one-to-one writer's self-insert, I feel like this is important to acknowledge
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hearties-circus · 1 year
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Honestly I don't think I need to study for english this time around
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pearl-kite · 2 years
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It's coming upon the time for me to do my redraw of this thing for Akos as I've done for the last three years now as a way to see progress, etc, but I've stumbled across a problem:
I still really really like how that one turned out. Like, I feel like any attempt will be a pale imitation and actually show a devolution. It was too good. It's that .1% of my art that becomes permanently a favorite.
So I'm fiddling around basically trying to improve upon the background, and the point of this post is to express that I am putting WAY too much effort into the details on the background of this thing, send help
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lesbianfreyja · 2 months
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my mood ring is always fucking blueee suggesting to me that its either broken or im always "happy, relaxed, chill"
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pumpkinstep · 8 months
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wouldn't it be romantic to wrap your hands around my throat?
feel my pulse under your fingertips?
it's not fast at all, instead it's slow and relaxed.
I breathe deep and let it out slow, close my eyes and tilt my head back against the pillows.
my lungs are empty as you tighten your grip and sink your fingers into my flesh.
my pulse quickens due to the lack of oxygen, I can hear it in my ears and you can feel it pound under your hands.
it's okay, I'm not scared.
wouldn't it be romantic?
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sy-on-boy · 4 months
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Real talk: the fact that Anya expects to read Demetrius’ mind but sees nothing is kind of sad because Demetrius saw his 6yo brother approach and congratulate him, and had zero thoughts in his brain. But that doesn’t mean Demetrius doesn’t care about him. When Damian stutters, Demetrius initiates conversation by talking about Damian’s grades, showing that he indeed pays attention.
Demetrius seems almost resentful by Damian’s insistence to impress Donovan, giving out a snarky, passive aggressive, teen appropriate response: “How would I know? It’s not as if I’m in regular contact with him.” This is like the passive aggressive version of whatever is going on with Melinda. Damian is a relatively innocent 6yo kid seeking his father’s approval, but both his mother and his brother appear to be seriously affected (in a bad way) by Donovan, and they avoid talking about Donovan even as Damian repeatedly mentions him. Demetrius doesn’t understand Damian’s desire for their father’s approval. He also doesn’t understand his father, hinting at some sort of disconnect between them.
What also saddens me a bit is how Demetrius barely acknowledged Damian’s friends talking to him. Like, they’re six year old kids trying to make a good impression. Still, Demetrius didn’t completely ignore them, just gave a meaningless “oh” and decided to stop thinking about people. It’s very much giving “stressed (and depressed) to the point of apathy”. When facing the innocence (ignorance?) and optimism of 6yo kids, Demetrius doesn’t understand. (And maybe he doesn’t understand friendship, which is what Damian has?)
I mentioned before that characters Anya met are probably “good” characters on the side of Forgers or at least are sympathetic to readers. Because if Anya met a “bad” character and read their mind, she would be too OP and the plot could be quickly solved. It’s like how we all thought Melinda was suspicious when she met Yor, but then Anya met Melinda and read her mind to reveal that she cares about Damian (even if it’s in a twisted way). Demetrius is interesting because he subverts what I said above by thinking very little, so Anya cannot really read him. But so far, I think his portrayal is that of a typical middle schooler with middle school angst, and he cares about Damian even if he has zero thoughts on his brain (and doesn’t like the way Damian craves fatherly approval). He is still a child and presumably a victim of his father’s parenting.
The framing is also interesting. Damian telling his friends to go on without him while he waits for Demetrius. The panel of Demetrius towering over a stuttering Damian. Demetrius going away, showing a panel of him as a small figure in an otherwise blank background. That panel when Anya thinks Damian’s relatives are weird has her looking at Damian while he’s some distance away from her (and the rest of his friends). The brothers feel disconnected. Damian is both eager and nervous to talk to Demetrius. Demetrius is nonchalant and apathetic, but not impolite or outwardly wholly dismissive.
Given Damian’s wacky family situation, I’m glad he has friends at Eden. Ewen and Emile of course are steadfast and loyal companions, always eager to back up their beloved boss man. Anya can read his mind and she knows about his insecurities (and also his weird family).
Becky is also good as a friend because she doesn’t care about sucking up to Damian, she often calls him out, but she also supports Damian when he deserves it. A sweet scene here is Damian saying he’s a Desmond so he’s expected to get a star, and Becky adding “it’s still a great achievement. Congrats!”. Becky is validating his success and telling Damian it’s okay to be proud and happy for himself. Even though she’s usually judgemental towards Damian, she’s still kind to him because that’s who she is as a character.
In the end, Damian still wants his father’s attention. He had no idea Demetrius wasn’t that close to their father… I would assume Demetrius spent most of his time at Eden and this is Damian’s first year at Eden, so he actually gets to interact with his brother instead of hearing things about him?
So far, Demetrius seems like a very jaded character in contrast to Damian who feels like a beam of sunshine now. He’s the heir so he’s got more troubles. But it’s nice that he’s finally debuted and no longer in mystery. Can’t wait to see what Endo has in store for him :)
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ode2rin · 4 months
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all my flaws
pairing. itoshi rin x gn!reader
genre. post-argument fluff | suggestive themes | established relationship | new boyfriend!rin 
content/warnings. 2k+ wc | characters are in their 20s ! | pro-athlete!rin | making out | narration heavy! | profanity | minimal proofread (me and my word vomit) | it’s like a new installment of this rin
in which: people say new relationships supposedly need a breakthrough fight to level up, but rin swears he would rather go through hell than do this again.
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Your first fight as a couple freaked Rin out, even though he appeared stoic during the argument.
In the heat of the moment, Rin abruptly left your apartment, not uttering a word. Instead, he left you with a lingering glance filled with apathy—a look he'd never cast upon you before. His eyes turned void once again, when you were just getting used to it being bright and free.
What began as a simple disagreement, like any other couple's quarrel, escalated into rhetorical questions, accusing tones, and suddenly, it was him against you.
Silently, he rose from his seat, walked to the door, and vanished like a shadow that had never existed. To Rin, it felt like the right thing to do. You can't leave him if he does it first, he convinced himself. A twisted logic, fueled by emotions creeping from his past.
Yet apparently, his logic seems to be in total shambles when mixed and driven by emotions concerning you, because ten minutes later down the road, he wanted nothing more but to turn the car around.
Even so, in Rin’s true self-sabotaging fashion, he refrained. Because he’s awful, selfish, and couldn’t even fix insignificant arguments like a normal person would. Convinced of his own flaws, he believed you shouldn’t be with him— shouldn’t give him that chance after all.
The next thing he knew, the ten minutes he could’ve made to retreat back and apologize turned into 27 hours and 48 minutes of misery, spent in non-speaking terms with you.
It sucks. Everything sucks.
That night, he slept in his own bed. The next day, the in denial and emotionally constipated side of him made himself believe that the expensive yet seemingly useless mattress felt responsible for the raging tension in his shoulders and back. Of course it wasn't because of the absence of your messages or the unfamiliarity of his own bed. Of course, it’s the bed’s fault.
Life isn’t what it used to be. The sun didn't shine properly if it didn't come through the window of your room he spent the night in, his usual protein drink tasted like absolute shit because you didn’t make it for him, and not to mention the lack of cuddles before he gets up in the morning— it was bound to be the worst day of his life ever since you happened.
To make things even worse, he’s disassociating in practice, even missing a goal making everyone stop in their tracks. It was an unusual sight, Itoshi Rin doesn’t miss, after all. 
He was acting so gloomy that Bachira even pointed out how there’s a storm cloud looming over his head. A statement that earned a curt ‘fuck off, bobcut’ from the striker.
Meanwhile, Isagi took a more rational approach of expressing his concern toward his friend’s atypical behavior by taking out his phone and sending you a message.
Isagi: Did something happen between you and Rin? He's being tenfold more insufferable. [1:13 pm] Isagi: Please do something about this. - Chigiri [1:15 pm]
On the receiving end of these messages, you couldn't help but admit to yourself that you felt a peculiar sense of relief, knowing Rin was grappling with the same turmoil after he left.
You'd had your share of arguments before—petty disagreements that were easier to fix due to forced proximity. It was simpler when you were obligated to walk together on the way home from school; otherwise, he would stand in the same spot outside your classroom if you decided to be petty and ignore him. Annoyed but still caring, he insisted on confirming you got home safely, reasoning that your houses were next to each other.
Rin was still hard-headed, much like all these years. A testament to this was his silence over the past 24 hours.
Reading Isagi’s text messages once more, you let out a sigh and made up your mind – you will force him to fix things with you. You will express your displeasure at his abrupt departure, insist he not repeat it if he wants to do this right with you, and convey that it should always be the two of you against any problem.
It might be a blow to your pride to give in first, but it is what the two of you needed. It is what he needed. 
It just happened that you loved that man enough to provide what he needed, despite all flaws.
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A day of missing you must have driven him to hallucinate, Rin concludes. You, perched on his couch, delicately peeling oranges and chuckling at a whimsical show on the screen, are just a hallucination.
“You’re home.”
And would you look at that, hallucinations even speak.
From your vantage point, Rin looks like he's seen a ghost greeting him with his unblinking teal orbs and brows slightly arching upwards. You notice the subtle tightening of his grip on the strap of his gym bag as he takes measured steps towards you, as though cautiously approaching a dream he fears might dissipate.
“Rin?” you whisper in confusion. It was meek, barely a whisper of his name, yet it was all that he needed to close the gap between you in mere seconds.
You gape at him from how determined his strides were. Surprise is instantly replaced by warmth as your lover basically throws himself over you for a well-sought embrace the moment you're within his arms’ reach.
You’re real, and you’re here.
And he can’t even begin to tell you how much tension finally left his body with that realization.
“I thought…” he trails off, burying his face in the crook of your neck. 
As shallow as one might say, each passing hour of being away from you has fully convinced Rin that it might have been the end to what the two of you had.
“I’m sorry.”
“Me too,” you whisper softly in his ear, your fingers finding solace in the familiar texture of Rin’s hair, tenderly tracing paths down to his nape. Rin responds with a gentle kiss along the side of your neck, a silent affirmation of his gratitude for the comforting gesture.
Unspoken sentiments hang in the air, but neither of you feels the need to verbalize them just yet. The minutes stretch, and you both savor each other’s warmth that has been sorely missed.
As minutes gracefully slipped away, you initiated the release from his embrace, much to his chagrin. Rin openly displayed his disapproval by gently yet firmly wrapping his arms around you. But you were resolute in your purpose and slightly pushed him back.
“Have you eaten?” you ask, holding his face to look at you.
“No.”
“I’ll make you some food, then. Stay here.”
Before your intentions could take you to the kitchen, Rin pulled you back making you fall back to his lap. “don’t want you to go,” he confessed.
“But dinner–”
“No.”
“No? You don’t want to eat?”
“No,” he firmly replied, “Later. I want to hold you first.”
You didn’t respond to Rin, and just took it upon yourself to make yourself more accessible for him to hold by facing him while still seated in his lap. The shift in position sent a shiver of anticipation through both of you, and Rin, consumed by the moment, reveled in the exquisite sensation of your body pressed closely against his.
Slowly, his fingers reached the side of your jaw, tracing and guiding you closer to meet him halfway. With closed eyes, you felt his lips approaching, delicately and purposefully, until his lips were a breath away from yours. The distance between your lips diminished as Rin closed in, capturing your mouth in a sweet, lingering surrender. 
Rin’s strong hands explored every inch of you it could reach. You felt his touch on your neck, shoulders, down to your thighs. The teasing fingers paid extra attention to your waist, their grip subtly teasing the hem of your shirt. You melt into him more when you feel said teasing hands slide inside.
He was everywhere— your mind, your body, your very soul. Rin had them well occupied with all of him.
A soft gasp escapes you when he nips the familiar spot on your neck just below your ear, each kiss that follows tracing a path to your collarbones. Another gasp, louder this time, as Rin gently sucked the skin beneath your collarbones, mending the sweet sting with his feather-light kisses.
It was getting harder to think when a feeling of desire ran from your chest down toward your inner thigh from how impossibly hot Rin’s lips were consuming you.
And just when you thought he had had enough of you, Rin’s hand once again cradled your jaw, guiding your gaze to meet his. Shivers danced down your spine as you absorbed the sight of his half-lidded, glossy teal eyes.
“I need you, baby,” he breathed, “please.”
It seemed as though there was a lot to make up for in the past twenty-four hours that he couldn't hold you.
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You stirred from your sleep to the sensation of lingering kisses scattered from your forehead down to your jaw.
Blinking away the remnants of sleep, you found your lover gazing at you with those bright and free teal eyes, and you swore you never had a better way to start the day than this.
A smile graced your lips as you prepared to reciprocate the affection, intending to reach for him and plant a kiss on his jaw. However, your gesture was momentarily halted by his unexpected outburst.
“I love you.”
Professing to you used to terrify Rin – it used to knock all the air from his lungs and make the room seem so small. Now, with a few years ahead to gather enough backbone to escape the misery of pining, professing to you— loving you, felt as easy and natural as breathing.
And he hoped, with every beat of his heart against yours, that he would be breathing just fine in the many years to come.
“I love you,” he tells you again. Just for good measure, to ensure you heard him right, and just to make sure you know he does love you.
You heard him well. His words were clear enough, and the rapid beating of his heart against yours was loud enough to attest.
“Say it back, please,” he pleaded against the soft skin of your neck.
“I love you, Rin.”
“Still?”
“Still.”
He offered no verbal response, but a palpable sigh of relief emanated from him. For a man of few words, he sure does need a lot to feel better.
His warm breath lingered on your skin as a brief silence enveloped you both. Then, with a deliberate yet gentle gesture, he gathered both your arms, placing them above his shoulders, and pulled you closer by your thigh, guiding it above his own.
He loved holding you this way. He wasn’t a big believer, but he wondered if this, right here, was the closest he would ever come to heaven.
“But we have to unlearn those bad habits, Rin,” you asserted, your voice carrying a firm resolve, “No more leaving. We will sit through it, and we will talk, baby.”
Rin’s arms around your waist tightened, as if silently acknowledging your words. You knew he was listening— Rin could be hard headed and all, but he always listened. To you, and only you, that is. 
Minutes passed in silent communion, the world outside fading away as you and Rin held each other. Eventually, drowsiness began to cast its gentle veil over your senses. You couldn't tell if Rin had fallen asleep because his face was buried in the curve of your neck, hiding away in your scent. Yet, the soft and steady rhythm of his breath made you think so.
As you closed your eyes, allowing the realm of dreams to envelop you, Rin’s voice, muffled and quiet, broke the silence.
“Are we going to be fine?”
Barely audible, his question carried a hint of hesitation. And perhaps, if you listen a little closer, you could almost hear the 11-year-old Rin behind his lucid words.
Lucky for him, you had known that little boy throughout your life, enough to love him just as he needed, despite all flaws.
“We will be.”
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note. hi, my life ain't life-ing lately soooo here !! i hope all of you are fine and having a blast. but if you aren’t, i’m sending you all of my love. we’ll have better days ahead, trust 🤞🏻
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shibaraki · 5 months
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HELD BY YOU, FELLED BY YOU ┊ TODOROKI SHOUTO
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tags: GN reader, developing relationship, physical affection, touch starved shouto, loneliness, hugs + hand holding, fluff, only a little angst, obliviousness, pro hero shouto, reader works at hero agency
wc: 1.4K
series masterlist: 1/5
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It is 4:03pm on a Thursday afternoon. The skies are grey, and the rain is so light it’s practically a wet fog. You have not touched Shouto in any meaningful way since Monday.
Before this week Shouto was certain that he must have been absorbed into a long-standing state of neutrality and apathy as a child. He didn’t long for anything, atleast, not in the way his friends claimed to. Whiny professions of loneliness, lamenting over romantic relationships and sex or lack thereof, dreamily recounting their passionate escapades. It didn’t appeal much to him.
Shouto had what he needed to survive—to live his day to day and climb the ranks without disruption, and it seemed that affection was not one of those things. The Todoroki household had never been particularly affectionate anyway. After his mother was admitted to the psychiatric hospital touch became less associated with comfort and happiness, and more of a thing to avoid altogether.
Shouto never actually voiced an aversion to touch. He held hands with crying children as he walked them back to their parents. He rubbed the backs of countless scared victims, he let them wrap around his arm and squeeze until his fingers grew numb. He offered his left side to elderly folk in the colder weather as they waited to be loaded into an ambulance.
But these small instances were always initiated by him, and his well-meaning friends decided to leave the ball in his court sometime during highschool. It never really left.
Until—
“Can I hug you?” you blurted. Your expression quickly twisted into a sheepish grimace. “You look like you could do with one, is all”.
At that moment Shouto had been sitting in the infirmary half covered in soot and picking out the bits of rubble that managed to get inside his suit’s ventilator. He stared up at you and wondered what that would even look like on himself, lifting a hand to feel his face and finding it relatively normal.
The sound of his heart flooded his ears and he frowned at the reaction. You weren’t a new friend by any means, but Shouto scarcely made new friends so you are newer than the others. You’ve never tried to be physically affectionate but he’s caught you gazing at him fondly sometimes, when you think he’s none the wiser, and he likes it.
Shouto nodded. Why, he doesn’t know. To quell your anxiety and get rid of the awkward atmosphere, he reasoned. Then your lips pulled into a soft, pleased smile, and he felt it like the sun on his face.
You stepped forward as though approaching some skittish animal. Shouto made no move to stand. He had only watched with trepidation as your hands lifted. A breath caught in his throat as they extended to rest on his sloped shoulders. “I’ll get you dirty,” he murmured dumbly in afterthought.
“That’s okay,” you replied, barely above a whisper. Your arms slipped around his back gently, and soon tightened to a secure hold when no objection came—there could be none, because the instant Shouto’s cheek pressed against your soft stomach, a rush of adrenaline speared through him and swept away all conscious thought.
To Shouto touch was like skipping a rock through the cavity in his chest; doing it only ever made its presence more obvious. But you cradled him there for what seemed like hours and he felt warm in ways he couldn’t articulate. Your fingers danced aimless patterns along the top of his spine, sometimes pausing to curl the wispy hair at his nape around them, and he sank.
True to his word, Shouto had dirtied your clothes. He apologised when you pulled away because it was all he could do not to whimper. You didn’t spare your shirt a glance—you just smiled at him again, and said you hoped it helped.
Helped? Helped?
The weight of your embrace had lingered for hours, cloven to the forefront of his mind, clinging to the memory before it became too obscure. Only now the memory hurt him to think about, and the pervasive ache for more intensified as the days passed.
Just this morning he’d wrapped his bedsheets tight and drew them around his shoulders to simulate that same feeling. Closed his eyes and inhaled deeply, picturing you there. Your sweet, purposeful touches. Your comforting scent. Your chest rising and falling. Your voice rumbling against his cheek. Heat filled his body, like you’d reached inside and turned the spigot of his heart.
It was mortifying. And exhilarating.
Shouto stuck his hand out from the shelter of the awning and let the rain lick at his fingers. Overturning his wrist, catching them on the shallow of his palm, he contemplates how he can get you to touch him again.
Last time you said he simply looked like he needed it. Too frustrating and vague, not to mention Shouto has been needing it all week. You could have meant his grimy post-battle appearance, but he didn’t really think this should warrant being thrown from another high rise building. Maybe he has to earn it this time.
You’re standing beside him, too preoccupied by the emails on your phone to notice his dilemma. Things have been fine. No awkwardness on your part, which he should probably be pleased about, but his mind keeps veering beyond rational conjecture. Nothing had changed. Everything had changed. It all felt too one sided.
Shouto gives you a sidelong glance. You might be the only person he knows that can look alluring in the dreary afternoon light. With a sigh he lets his hand drop to his hip and wipes it on his dry suit.
Your thumbs move fast across the screen. “Sorry, Shouto. I promise I’m not ignoring you—just need to reply to this intern,” you tell him. “God, have I ever mentioned how much I hate the email software your agency uses? Because I do”.
He hums, “You have”.
Whatever you hear in his voice has you looking up. There’s a crease etched in your brow, expression open and apologetic. Your gaze flickers to the hand held to his front, where he’s working out the static in his knuckles.
“Are you cold?” you ask, pocketing your phone. It’s a silly question. He is a walking furnace. But Shouto is statuesque as you reach to cup his distinctly bigger hand with your own. Heat prickles under his skin. The staccato of his heart kicks up. You lean down to exhale a warm breath over his fingers, and stroke your thumb along the dips and peaks of his knuckles.
Shouto sends a mental apology to Kaminari for the halfhearted response he gave after a long, lovestruck monologue about his girlfriend’s hands. He thinks he gets it, now.
Your lips curl into a satisfied smile. “Better?” you scan his face and the smile falters. “Shit. Sorry, Shouto. I should’ve asked,” then you’re retreating again and—
He reflexively grabs your wrist. It’s a loose grip, enough for you to free yourself from. You pause. “No,” a puff of steam billows out from his mouth and he has enough presence of mind to be embarrassed by it. “…It’s fine. You don’t have to stop”.
Your concern dwindles into amusement as he wafts it away. “Alright,” you say placatingly. The tension alleviates, and when your fingers slip against his you immediately twine them together, taking the ache in his chest with it. “Is this ‘fine’ too?”
Shouto nods, not yet trusting his voice or his quirk.
“I wasn’t sure if I crossed any lines on Monday,” your eyes dipped to stare at the pavement as you continued. “I know you aren’t touchy feely like the others. They were… surprised when I mentioned the hug”.
“I didn’t think I was,” he swallows, flexing his fingers to squeeze your hand. “I liked it”.
You squeeze back, “You did?”
Shouto squeezes harder, and can’t stop the smile coming unbidden to his lips. “I did,” he says.
You meet his gaze. He’s pinned by that fond look you always try to hide from him. “Do you want another one, then?”
“But I didn’t do anything”.
A litany of emotion passes over your face at his response. There’s determination in the purse of your lips as you step into his space, entangled hands caught between your bodies. Wrapping an arm around his waist, you tuck your nose into the hollow where his jaw met his neck.
There’s a clumsiness to his movements as he follows your lead and slips his arm around your back. Head suddenly too heavy for his neck, he rests his cheek on your crown, melting into the embrace.
“You don’t need to earn my affection, Shouto. Not now and not ever”.
“Oh,” Shouto breathes. “I can just ask?”
“You can,” you laugh softly.
Why hadn’t he thought to just—ask. That is far more reasonable than being flung from another burning high rise.
“What?”
Ah. He pulls you further into his chest until you’re pressed together like the pages of a book. “Nothing”.
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slytherinslut0 · 5 months
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Lorenzo Berkshire- Through Rain or Shine
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Info: you’d had a tough couple of weeks, and needed to find a way to relieve the numbness in your chest. when your forever friend unsurprisingly joins you, the two of you finally admit your feelings for eachother, after all those years.
Word Count: 3.8k
Tags: 18+, smut, fingering, kissing, themes of mild depression, praise kink, fluff, so much angst, childhood best friends to lovers trope.
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In the quiet solitude of your dorm room, the weight of exhaustion pressed upon you like an invisible force, each day's relentless grind etched into the lines of weariness on your face. The past weeks had been an unyielding onslaught of books and notes, every waking moment dedicated to the pursuit of academic excellence, driven by the burning desire to excel in the impending owls exam.
The recent breakup with your boyfriend had cast a shadow over your world, pushing you deeper into the solace of your studies. Nights blurred into early mornings as you immersed yourself in the expanse of your textbooks, seeking refuge from the echoing emptiness left by the now-fractured relationship. Distractions became your lifeline, a shield against the lingering pain that clung to your chest like an unwelcome weight.
As the culmination of your efforts approached with the passing of your owls exam, a bitter relief settled in upon the conclusion. Yet, despite the temporary reprieve, the ache in your chest persisted, an unyielding rock crushing against your lungs. Caffeine and sleep proved futile against the overwhelming exhaustion that permeated your mind and soul.
And on yet another seemingly mundane night, a symphony of raindrops assaulted your window with an angry rhythm, a stormy punctuation to the warm spring night. Beneath the cocoon of your sheets, you lay motionless, your gaze fixated on the rivulets tracing their path down the glass. Restlessness plagued your every toss and turn, a sleep-deprived mind refusing the solace of slumber.
And as hour after hour passed in the hushed corridors of Gryffindor Tower, you succumbed to a rebellious impulse, heedless of any potential consequences. Clad in only a pair of sleep shorts and a light long-sleeved shirt, you navigated the dimly lit common room, driven by a compulsion to escape, to just fucking break free for once. Troublesome thoughts of repercussions faded in the face of your overwhelming apathy, truly not giving one single fuck about what could, or would happen to you if you were to get caught.
The damp corridor led you to the entrance of the courtyard, where the angry rain battered against the aged stones. A deep breath filled your lungs with the crisp scent of the tempestuous storm, and as you stepped into the downpour, an electric warmth surged through your drenched body. The hard curtain of water enveloped you, washing away the numbness and invigorating your senses, a desperate attempt to feel something--anything--other than the weight of your weary existence.
In another brief stretch of madness, you descended, lowering yourself against the soaked, weathered stones beneath your feet. As your back connected, you felt the tension instantly leave your bones, a shiver dancing along your spine, a stark contrast to the warmth pulsating within. The rain continued its unrestrained assault, a cacophony of droplets drumming against your body and soaking you to the bone.
With each breath, the scent of petrichor mingled with the raw, earthy aroma of the surrounding flora. Your clothes clung to your body, a second skin saturated by the unrelenting downpour. The waterlogged fabric, though chilling, brought a visceral reminder of your exhilarated presence in this moment--a stark departure from the numbness that had gripped you for the last few weeks.
In the embrace of the storm, time lost its linear structure, and the weight of your weary existence momentarily dissolved. The courtyard became a sanctuary, a refuge where the boundary between self and nature blurred, and for a fleeting moment, you existed in a space beyond the confines of your troubles, surrendering to the elemental dance of rain and stone.
Until, suddenly, the ephemeral sanctuary of rain-soaked contemplation shattered abruptly as someone leaned over you, disrupting the elemental dance against your skin. Startled, you opened your eyes, squinting against the mingling rain and the sudden intrusion of the night. There, peering down at you with a mixture of concern and confusion, was Lorenzo Berkshire, your damn-near lifelong bestfriend.
His worried expression cut through the remnants of your momentary escape, and reality crashed back with a jolt. The rhythmic percussion of rain against stone now seemed distant, replaced by the urgency in Lorenzo's eyes.
"What in Merlin's name are you doing out here?" His voice pierced through the storm, the concern in his tone palpable. "You're going to catch a bloody cold."
You groaned, squeezing your eyes shut as annoyance rolled through you. The boundary between self and the outside world reasserted itself, and the refuge you'd found in the solitude had now entirely slipped away, all thanks to the presence of your wonderful, but admittedly infuriating bestfriend.
"Enz, for the love of all things magical..." you grumbled, stubbornly keeping your eyes shut against both rain and scrutiny. "Can't I just have a moment alone? Please, just let me be."
"I can't just leave you out here, especially when you're practically bathing in the bloody storm." Lorenzo's concern lingered in the air as he shook his head, raindrops scattering from the movement. "Come on...let's get you inside before you turn into a drowned owl."
You stubbornly shook your own head, now--your rain-soaked hair clinging to your face as a testament to your unwillingness to yield.
"Enzo, I need this..." you muttered, not ready to abandon the calm you had just found, only moments earlier. "Just-just give me a bit longer, please?"
Ignoring Lorenzo's outstretched hand, you clung to the puddled, uneven stones beneath you, a silent plea for solitude amidst the storm. At your denial, your best friends frown deepened, lines of worry etching across his forehead as he observed your silent resistance. The genuine concern in his eyes betrayed an understanding that surpassed mere words.
He knew you--knew the intricacies of your soul since the days when stumbling was a more common occurrence than walking. He knew this was not like you.
He crouched down beside you, raindrops creating a haphazard pattern on his shoulders. The bond between you two transcended the need for spoken explanations. As he rested a hand on your shoulder, a comforting weight that spoke of shared history, he sighed.
"You've weathered storms before, but this...it's different. You're different." His voice was soft, gentle, barely audible over the sound of rain slamming the stone next to your head. "I'm worried about you."
"I know, Enz," you admitted, almost reluctantly. Opening your eyes, you met his gaze, and in that moment, vulnerability hung in the air. "It's just...everything--the exams, the breakup...I needed a moment to drown it all out, but it seems the storm found me first."
Enzo's hand on your shoulder tightened slightly, a wordless reassurance that spoke volumes. Together, in that shared silence, you both acknowledged the profound truth--you weren't facing the storm alone. He'd simply never allow it. And then, without uttering a single word, Enzo lowered himself to the rain-soaked stones, settling beside you with a quiet understanding. The haphazard patterns of raindrops now painted both of your figures entirely, a shared canvas in the midst of the storm.
In the hushed ambiance of the stormy courtyard, shielded behind bushes and flowers, you shifted your gaze toward Enzo, silently appreciating the allure of his rain-soaked features. Long lashes, adorned with raindrops, sparkled like morning dew, tracing a delicate path along his rosy cheeks. There was a captivating ease in the way he simply basked in the warm rain, his handsome features unburdened as though he was simply reclining in the luxury of his bed.
Enzo had always embodied an enduring quality, a trait that defied life's intricate twists and turns--an attribute you had always found yourself inexplicably envious of. His carefree demeanor wasn't a recklessness that jeopardized education or safety; instead, it mirrored the carelessness of a child navigating their first steps or the unburdened joy of someone soaking up the sun after a harsh winter. He moved through life with a rare freedom, an effortless lightness that resonated deep within you.
For that, you couldn't help but love him--a sentiment woven into the fabric of your bond. No matter the trials life presented or the stretches of silence between you, you unfailingly found yourselves back together. Side by side, navigating this crazy thing you called life.
"I'm here," Enzo's voice shattered the silence, a gentle reassurance that jolted you out of your contemplative trance. It dawned on you that you'd been lost in the steady gaze of his rain-kissed features. "You don't have to talk to me...but I'm here."
Your response came as a slow nod, a silent acknowledgment of his unwavering presence. The weight of his words wrapped around you like a comforting embrace, a reassurance that soothed every inch of ache in your bones. It was right then, that you realized, since he'd laid down beside you, the numbness in your chest had completely fucking vanished.
Turning your attention back to the sky, you shut your eyes, embracing the rain that pelted your face. Basking in the comforting silence, you whisper, "Do you ever think about the day we met?"
Enzo's fingers brushed against yours, a tender touch that spoke volumes as he replied, "All the time."
His response stirred a warmth in your chest, a gentle flutter that resonated with the shared nostalgia. "The day at the lake?"
His low chuckle, like a melody in the rain, accompanied his words, "When you stole my toy shovel and then pushed me into the water when I tried getting it back?"
“Oh, please!” An uncontrolled giggle bubbled from your lips as you countered, "that's not at all how it went."
Enzo's eyes sparkled with amusement as he awaited your correction. "Okay, then, enlighten me. How did it really go?"
"Okay, okay, maybe it did go a bit like that..." amidst laughter, you playfully explained, "but you were the one who stole my bucket first, Enz. I had to get you back for it!"
"Fair enough, angel, I might have started it." Enzo's laughter blended with the raindrops as he conceded, "I guess I had it coming.”
Smirking, you retorted, "You've been a pain in my butt since the day we met, Enz…some things never change, do they?"
Enzo's grin widened, and he retorted, "Guilty as charged. But you love me for it, don't you?"
His eyes, filled with a mixture of mischief and affection, reflected the depth of a connection that had weathered the mischievous escapades and grown stronger with each passing storm.
"How couldn't I?" you responded with a fond smile, your gaze locking with his. "With a smirk that irresistibly charming, you make it impossible not to."
"Can't argue with that, angel," he quipped, flashing his teeth playfully. "Charm has always been my secret weapon."
As your laughter faded, a pause settled between you two. Staring at him, a flood of memories cascaded through your mind--years of friendship, shared laughter, and the occasional drunken kiss that had always lingered like a quiet undercurrent. In that moment, you couldn't deny the feelings that had grown, evolving beyond the boundaries of friendship.
The courtyard, still bathed in the rain's embrace, became a silent witness to the realization that the line you'd hesitated to cross might have finally blurred beyond recognition.
"Enz...have you ever...felt, lost?" As you blinked, you glimpsed his lips, your voice a soft murmur as it left your throat. "Like everything you thought was solid, just…crumbled away?"
"Absolutely," he confessed, a soft sigh escaping him as raindrops adorned his lashes like jewels. "It's like the ground beneath you turns into quicksand, and-"
"You're unsure of what to cling to, because it feels like..." you interrupted, your eyes locking onto his.
"....it’s all collapsing alongside you," he finished, completing your thought with a shared understanding. "Absolutely, angel...absolutely."
As you paused, eyes fixed on his features, a rush of emotions surged within you. The realization of your profound affection for this boy, the depth of his unwavering presence, and the shared history you both carried became palpable.
The weeks of self-imposed hibernation in your dorm had isolated you from the world, but here, in the midst of the storm, Enzo stood by your side. His willingness to weather the rain with you, to share the weight of your troubles, became a testament to a friendship that had transcended time and circumstance. The unspoken understanding, the shared glances, all hinted at a connection that had weathered storms of both the heart and the skies.
"Enz," you murmured, the endearment slipping from your lips like a secret shared between kindred spirits. "Thank you, for being here...it means more than you'll ever know."
"You don't have to thank me, angel," he replied, a warm smile tugging at the corners of his rain-kissed lips. "We've always been in this together...through rain or shine--it's what best friends do."
In the quietude of the rain-soaked courtyard, a charged silence hung between you and Enzo. Your heart, like a captive creature, pounded in your chest as you found solace in the shared gaze. His brown eyes, an intimate dance of vulnerability and unspoken sentiments, darted between your eyes and lips.
And then, in an unexpected surge of emotion, the two of you moved as if drawn by an invisible force--his hands found your face, a gentle reassurance, while your own hands mirrored the sentiment, delicately grasping the back of his neck as you pulled him close. Lips collided in a shared moment of exasperation, a kiss that seemed to carry the potential to mend wounds. Enzo's soft, warm lips moved with a careful precision, as though he feared shattering the fragile connection by moving too quickly or being too rough.
A sigh mingled within your shared breaths, and the emotional tide of the kiss swept over you. In the midst of the courtyard's relentless downpour, the intimacy of the moment became a sanctuary. Emotions, sought when you ventured into the rain-soaked space, surged to the surface, rendering you more alive than you had felt in fucking weeks.
Enzo, breaking the kiss with a soft, lingering reluctance, allowed his lips to trail along your jawline. A whisper of breath brushed against your skin as he confessed, his words carrying the weight of years of unspoken desire.
"I've wanted to do that for years," he admitted, the revelation settling in the damp air around you. "...for so many fucking years..."
Your response came as an instinct, your hands finding their way into his hair, pulling him close with a magnetic urgency.
"Me fucking too," you whispered, a fusion of emotions flooding your voice, "why did we wait so long?"
Enzo's gaze, now intensified by the admission and the proximity between you two, held a mixture of regret and longing. He nestled closer, his lips brushing against your ear as he spoke with a sincerity that echoed through the courtyard.
"I don't know, angel," he murmured, the words carrying the weight of missed chances and unspoken confessions. "Maybe we were both waiting for the right storm to finally let it all pour out."
"Mm--pour it out for me, Enz," you whispered, your voice a gentle plea. "Tell me where you've been...tell me where your heart is..."
With a shared understanding, Enzo gently urged you to lay back, guiding you back against the cool, rain-drenched stones. He positioned himself alongside you, his head resting on your chest, the closeness of his body providing a comforting warmth against the coolness of the courtyard. One hand cradled your head while his other traced a delicate path down your stomach, igniting your skin into flames. Inhaling a sharp breath, he confessed,
"Someone once told me that it all comes down to the last person you think of at night." His fingers teasingly traced the line of your shorts as he continued, "That's where your heart is."
As his words lingered in the air, a tender smile played on your lips. Your eyes squeezed shut, encapsulating the vulnerability of the moment. Your hands found solace in his hair, fingers gently petting as you embraced the emotional tide that swept over you.
"Mm-yeah?" you murmured, finding it challenging to stay fully focused on his words as his soft teasing fingers traced along your inner thigh. "And who do you think of?"
Enzo pulled his head from your chest, meeting your eyes with an intensity that cut through the rain-soaked ambiance. His gaze held nothing but pure seriousness as he uttered, "Can I touch you, angel? Please?"
A near mewl escaped your lips, your entire body buzzing with anticipation. "Please do, Enz," you whispered, the plea carrying a mixture of desire and vulnerability. "Gods, please-"
Enzo leaned in, pressing his lips to yours in a soft kiss as he inched his fingers closer and closer to the edge of your shorts. As he slipped his tongue past your teeth, gentle yet urgent, you found yourself practically holding your breath in anticipation, shifting your legs wider slightly to give him better access.
Without wanting to keep you waiting for much longer, his long fingers slipped past the edge of the soaked fabric, connecting directly with your heat as you weren't wearing any panties. You moaned into his mouth and he swallowed it eagerly, his fingers wasting no time at all before beginning to rub tight circles against your clit.
Your grip on his hair tightened, your entire body quivering and squirming against his touch. You lost yourself in sensation, moaning into his mouth as he manipulated you expertly, sucking in air through his nose as he kissed you like he could devour you. The cool raindrops on your skin contrasted with the heat building in your body, and you felt as if you were about to burst with pleasure, explode with emotion.
Breaking the kiss, he pressed his forehead against yours, both of you breathing heavily as he slipped a finger inside you while his thumb continued to rub against your clit. You arched your back against him, feeling every inch of his finger stretching you out as he drove you to the brink of ecstasy, whimpering as quietly as you could as the two of you blended into the darkness, curtains of rain acting as your shield.
"I think of you, angel," His lips found your neck, kissing and biting gently as he continued to work you with his fingers, building your orgasm dangerously fast. "I think of you before I sleep...I wake up and I think about you..."
Your hands shifted, fisting his shirt as you cried out in pleasure, raindrops falling around you in a steady rhythm. You could feel his lips on your neck, leaving wet kisses as he continued, "I think about kissing you good morning...I fall asleep while thinking about kissing you goodnight..."
"Oh...Enz..." the words sent a fresh surge of desire through you, and you arched your back involuntarily, trying to get closer to him. "Oh my Gods..."
"You're so beautiful like this," he murmured against your skin, his breath hot against your ear. "You know I'm helplessly fucking in love with you, right?"
"Oh-fuck-" you moaned, louder than you'd expected as he increased his pace on your clit, his finger pumping in and out of you with increased intensity, sending your vision spinning. "Enzo-"
"Mhm...pretty girl..." he cooed as you tilted your head back, giving him better access to your neck, and he obliged by nipping and sucking at the sensitive skin. "I fell in love with you back before knowing what love even was..." he placed sloppy kisses on your collarbone, nipping softly. "And I've stayed in love with you because no one...fucking no one has ever made me feel the way you do."
Moaning softly, you squirmed beneath him, unable to contain the growing intensity coursing through your body. Tears welled in your eyes, each word that escaped his lips resonating with a tidal wave of emotion, threatening to engulf you under the weight of your own heart. This overwhelming surge of happiness felt surreal, like a dream you never dared to believe could be real.
Suddenly, he slipped another finger inside you, stretching you out wider as his thumb continued twirling over your clit. You cried out in pleasure, the intensity of the sensation making your toes curl, your chest reaching for oxygen as though you’d been starved of it for years.
"Fuck, you're so wet," Enzo murmured against your skin, his lips trailing kisses back up to your jawline. "Does this feel good, angel?"
All you could manage was a nod; your breath was coming in short gasps as the pleasure built and built inside of you. The rain continued to fall down around you, a cooling contrast to the heat in your body, bucking your hips against his hand, becoming increasingly desperate for release.
"Good girl...so, so good..." he purred, kissing his way back up your jawline until he veered back and met your lips, pressing the plush entirety of his mouth to yours. "I continue to fall in love with you every fucking day because there's no one I could ever picture my future with, other than you..."
"Oh Gods, Enzo..." you could feel the tension building in your body, coiling tighter and tighter until you were practically vibrating with need. "I'm so fucking in love with you..."
"Mm," he purred, grazing his lips against yours. "Music to my ears, angel..."
As if sensing how close you were, he slipped a third finger inside you, his movements becoming almost frantic as he continued to rub your clit in tight, harsh circles with his thumb. Your body shook with pleasure, every nerve ending sparking with sensation as Enzo's deep brown pools drilled into yours, watching every slight ministration of your face as you teetered on the edge of pure fucking ecstasy.
"Fuck-Enz..." you moaned, grasping the soaked fabric of his shirt for dear life, squeezing it within your trembling fists. "I'm going to-"
He kissed you again, smiling against your lips. "Cum for me."
That was all you needed to hear; and with a sharp cry, you came hard, spasms of pleasure wracking your body, your vision blurring as pleasure washed over you in waves. Enzo continued to move his fingers inside of you, riding out your orgasm until you collapsed, panting and spent. In the aftermath, as you both caught your breath, the rain persisted, its cool touch soothing your heated skin. A comfortable silence enveloped you, a serene pause in the midst of the rain-soaked courtyard.
After a lingering moment, Enzo gently pulled you up to your feet. Gripping your face with a tenderness that echoed the shared vulnerability, he kissed you again.
"I'll be here for you," he murmured, his words a gentle reassurance. "When you're down, I'll hold you; when you feel like you can't get up, I'll support you. We'll navigate this at your pace, angel. There's no need to rush."
"We've been friends since we were toddlers--how much less rushing can we do?" Giggling against his mouth, you playfully teased, "I just want you, Enz. You've made all the pain in the last few weeks completely irrelevant in a span of an hour...it’s always been you.”
"Then have me, love," he cooed, his fingers entwining with yours. "Whatever you desire, it's yours."
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aphroditelovesu · 3 months
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Yandere Hannibal Lecter Headcanons (General)
''Nothing here is vegetarian." — Hannibal Lecter.
❝ 🍽 — lady l: I think it's amazing that my hcs become more and more extensive lol, but you like it, don't you? Hannibal is my newest fixation and I loved writing for him, due to his personality. I hope you like it and forgive me for any mistakes! It's four in the morning here 🤎🤍.
❝tw: obsessive and possessive behavior, cannibalism and murder.
❝🍽pairing: yandere!hannibal lecter x gender neutral!reader.
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Hannibal Lecter is decorous and very polite and he really appreciates that, politeness. He values ​​and is easily offended by people who are rude or who do not have the correct manners, especially at the table. In addition to being a perfectionist analyzer.
He believes that the way people behave at the table directly reflects their education and social status. Hannibal is meticulous in choosing ingredients, preparing meals and presenting dishes. The problem is that his food tends to be human flesh, but Hannibal doesn't consider himself a cannibal, since the victims he chooses are seen as pigs to him.
Hannibal is known for his distinct personality and his appreciation for elegance and refined etiquette. His impeccable education, combined with his exquisite taste, creates an intriguing and contradictory image, due to his serial killer side. He stands out not only for his intellectual abilities and his ability to appreciate high culture but also for his meticulous and artistic approach to his darker pursuits.
You must have his politeness and good manners, that's the least he requires, Hannibal doesn't like rude people and although he won't kill you, he would have to teach you to have good manners. He will be happy to do so, however.
When interacting socially, Hannibal is observant and analytical, evaluating people based on their behavior at the table and in everyday situations. His aversion to rude people puts him in a unique position where he feels compelled to correct these "lapses" in etiquette. The way he corrects these mistakes varies from murder to a class, in this case, that class would be just for you.
You would have to be someone who achieves these Hannibal decorums, or comes close at least, for him to become obsessed with you. He likes polite people and will be happy if you are one of them, but if you are not or don't know the correct manners very well, don't worry, he will help you.
Hannibal is a psychiatrist and is very well aware that his thoughts of you are not ''normal'' or healthy, but he doesn't care. He knows it's morally wrong to do what he does and does it anyway, so what are some dark thoughts about you? But these thoughts quickly become actions he committed in your name.
He will take notes about you and create your psychiatric profile and if there is something ''wrong'', he will offer therapy for you, that is if you were not already his patient. Always very observant and attentive, he will be keeping all the necessary information about you, so that he can use it to catch you later.
If you have problems with your family or friends, Hannibal will take care of it. He doesn't like the idea of ​​someone wanting to hurt you, whether emotionally or physically, and most likely he will kill them one by one and serve them to you. Of course, without your knowledge. He knows you're not ready to know that yet.
Hannibal will be very picky about your food, just as he is about his. If you eat poorly or incorrectly, he will correct it. He enjoys cooking for you and will be adamant about doing so, serving refined recipes and elaborate dishes using fresh ingredients. Hannibal is a bit too controlling.
He is not possessive, but rather obsessive. Hannibal doesn't like it when you get too close to other people, but he will be more uncomfortable if it's someone he has apathy or something against. But he will sort it out. He feels jealous, but he deals with it in his own way, releasing that feeling on other things... Or people.
Hannibal is quite protective of you and will be adamant about keeping you safe. He may try to convince you to live with him or will make regular visits to your home, work or where you study. He will always be around when he gets the chance, just to look out for you.
He will try not to completely succumb to his desires, as Hannibal doesn't like being controlled, and allowing you to have so much power over him makes him more than uncomfortable. At least until he is sure that you will let yourself be completely dominated by him, only then will he feel more comfortable in making his feelings for you clear.
Hannibal Lecter is very intelligent and knows very well how to get rid of evidence that could incriminate him. Besides being a psychopath who doesn't feel remorse or empathy for others, he becomes softer when he's with you. Although his feelings aren't clear or fully understood, he knows he cares about you, enough that he wants you to be his. And you'll be his.
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daisynik7 · 3 months
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I blinked and suddenly I had a Valentine
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Author's Note: modern setting, no curses, high school setting. ~1.3k words. Divider credit to @/cafekitsune. Title from the song “Valentine” by Laufey. Rice bear bathing in Japanese curry looks something like this (reddit link). Part of the past lives vignettes series. Thank you for reading!
It’s almost the end of January and you’ve spent the past three weeks at your new school eating alone, either in the classroom or in the cafeteria. You’re too shy to socialize with your peers, who are already well-established in their own social circles. This is what happens when you transfer in with less than three months left of the schoolyear. No one wants to be friends with the new girl, right? 
Well, two people prove this theory wrong. 
Yu Haibara is the first to approach you in the cafeteria during lunchtime. “Hi there!” he greets, taking a seat across from you, a cheerful smile on his face. You can tell from his aura alone that this is someone easy to get along with. Jovial, optimistic, kind-hearted. You’d normally feel nervous interacting with someone you’ve never met before, but his welcoming presence immediately puts you at ease. 
He’s followed by a blonde boy, slightly taller, a bit lanky, and sulking behind him. His name is Kento Nanami. You recognize him from your homeroom, though you’ve never spoken before. Occasionally, he eats his meals there, usually in the back with his headphones in, listening to music, while you’re in the front, indulging in whatever homemade bento box you decide to make for yourself that day. It’s crossed your mind more than once to join him so that neither of you are alone, though you’ve chickened out each time, convinced that he’d rather remain that way than be bothered by a nobody. Unlike Haibara, his lips are pressed together in a natural frown. You don’t sense unhappiness or animosity from him; rather, it’s indifference, apathy. When he sits down next to his pal, he gives you a nod, acknowledging you. 
Haibara does the courtesy of introductions. You hold your hand out to him, doing the same. He takes it enthusiastically, beaming at you. “I know who you are. I’m a first-year too!”
It doesn’t strike you as odd that he’s already somewhat familiar with you. Instead, you’re relieved to finally be making friends in this cutthroat environment called high school. After this first meeting, the three of you are inseparable. You get on well with Haibara, who’s an expert at keeping the conversation flowing. Nanami doesn’t say much, though you notice his subtle mannerisms that speak volumes more than what his actual words do. You can tell he admires your homemade lunches each time you uncover them at the table. His eyes light up, marveling at whatever creation you’ve concocted the night before: yakisoba, onigiri, chicken stir-fry. He doesn’t say anything, relying on Haibara to do the complimenting. You appreciate how intently he listens to you, even if he doesn’t have much to contribute. In homeroom, you sneak glances at him when your teacher says something particularly ridiculous, to which you spot the faintest hint of a smile flitting on his lips. And you realize that every time you’re walking beside each other, he makes sure to switch his bag to his arm away from you. Part of you hopes the real reason behind this is to be closer to you, but you try to keep those lovelorn thoughts buried in the back of your mind, being certain that’s not the case.  
You eventually find out that Haibara has severe allergies, especially during the seasons of Winter and Spring. He explains how he has to take at least a few days off once a month, sometimes an entire week. Today, he dons a face mask, already anticipating it. “Don’t miss me too much,” he jokes, his bright smile noticeable even behind the mask. It’s February now; the three of you sit together at your regular spot in the cafeteria. Nanami eats his rice bowl in silence while you say to Haibara, “You’re going to miss Valentine’s Day.”
He crosses his arms over his chest, smirking. “I guess the two of you will have to be each other’s Valentines.”
At this, Nanami almost chokes on his food, face turning scarlet. He reaches for his water bottle, which is empty, still clearing his throat as he excuses himself to refill it. When you’re alone, you glare at Haibara, scolding him. “Why would you say that?!”
He shrugs innocently. “What’s the big deal? He likes you.”
Your jaw drops at his surprising statement. You’ve always thought that Nanami tolerates you, but you never truly believed he could ever like you. “What do you mean?”
Haibara blinks at you, as if the answer is so obvious. “He told me about you. Said how you always had the most amazing bento boxes for lunch. How cute your smile was whenever you’d take a bite. He was too shy to talk to you first, so he had me do it. You…didn’t know that?”
You stare at him, shaking your head slowly, stunned by this revelation. 
He laughs nervously, scratching his head. “Oops.”
Nanami returns, back to his normal self now, remaining quiet. There’s still the faint blush on his cheeks; you pretend not to notice it. Nothing else is mentioned about Valentine’s the rest of the day, though it lingers on your mind the remainder of the week.
Haibara is out sick February 13th, leaving you and Nanami alone together for the first time since you befriended them. You’re curious to see if the dynamic would change, if Nanami would actually speak up now that his buddy isn’t around to fill the void with his amicable chatter. But lunch ends up being a quiet affair. You do your best to ask questions, start conversation, but he’s even more tense than he usually is. When you mention Valentine’s Day tomorrow, the familiar rosy tint spreads across his face. You drop it, not wanting to make him uncomfortable, though you can’t help thinking how sweet he is for reacting that way.
He likes you. The words have been replaying in your head since you heard them. And the truth is: you like Nanami too.  Based on what Haibara said, he might be too shy to tell you. 
So, you take matters into your own hands. 
The next day, February 14th, you come to school carrying a box wrapped in red ribbon. Inside homeroom. You greet Nanami politely, catching the way his gaze drifts to your hands. You smile wider to yourself, excited to present it to him later. At your seat, you can smell the decadent scent of homemade chocolates and heart-shaped candies from the other girls in your class. You get increasingly nervous about the gift, wondering if he’ll receive it well. Still, it’s worth a shot.
When class is over and it’s time for lunch, Nanami waits for you near the door to walk to the cafeteria together. Ready to leave, you stop him, clearing your throat before you announce, “I have something for you.”
His eyes widen, his jaw clenches. It’s obvious he wasn’t expecting this. 
You don’t hand it to him, afraid he wouldn’t know what to do with it. Instead, you untie the ribbon yourself, uncovering it. Inside is the bento box you prepared special for him. “I made this for you. Happy Valentine’s Day, Nanami.”
He reaches inside, holding the bento in his hands like found treasure. He snaps the cover off slowly, revealing rice balls formed into a cute bear, bathing in Japanese curry. A sheet of seaweed cut into a heart is placed directly in the center. 
You watch him for his response, heart racing against your chest. He inspects it carefully, his expression softening to one of adoration. When he looks at you, he smiles, and you swear you’ve never seen anything more beautiful than Nanami Kento smiling. 
“Do you like it?” you ask, needing to hear it in his own words. 
He nods, still smiling. “I love it.”
You spend your lunch in the classroom, eating your matching bento boxes together while listening to his music on shared headphones. 
For the first time in his life, Nanami has a special Valentine.
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