¡ ¡ ââââââ ę° Phainon ęą ââââââ ¡ ¡
¡ ¡ â â contents . . . fluff â¸â¸ alternative universe â¸â¸ college â¸â¸ relationship â¸â¸ yearning â¸â¸ wholesome â¸â¸ cute â
ÖśÖ˘Ö¸ ꎽ Ý Headcanons with yearning Phainon ă ¤ę¨ď¸
ÖśÖ˘Ö¸ ꎽ Ý and as your boyfriend x femreader pt2.
¡ ¡ ââââââ ę° ę° á§ŕˇá§ ęą ęą ââââââ ¡ ¡
༷ŕžŕ˝˛âĄ ËÖ´Ö´đęą đ Ë × yearningphainon!! who is a sucker for headpats, who completely melts under your touch. Heâs quite literally a puppyâŚjust human-sized. He wonât say it outright, wonât ever ask for it. But the moment your hand finds his hairâfingers threading softly, ruffling it just enough, he stills. Then he melts, goes all soft. So sweet and obedient the second he feels your fingers on his hair. He canât help but sigh into your affection, closing his eyes and tilting his head towards your touch. It doesnât matter when it happens. After a long day. After an exam. After a really sweet date he planned, or even if it is during a quiet movie night where heâs half-asleep against you, cuddling and moulding himself into you. Even in the middle of studying, when his head feels too full and his thoughts wonât slow down. Your touch quiets everything. His mind. His body. The constant noise in his chest. You undo him so effortlessly, bringing him back down to something calm, steady. And on the days you forget? Phainon noticesâalmost immediately. He wouldnât say anything at first, assuming you are just teasing him, messing around with him, but as hours go by, he grows a little quieter, a little restless, a little more clingy, subtly leaning into you. Lingering just a bit closer than usual. Until eventually, you catch on. How could you not notice that pout and sulky expression of his? Your fingers find his hair again. And just like that, he brightens upâall soft and warm, completely content, not caring in the slightest if his hair ends up messy or if he looks like an utter fool for you.
༷ŕžŕ˝˛âĄ ËÖ´Ö´đęą đ Ë × yearningphainon!! who turns even the smallest places into something meaningful, as long as they remind him of youâŚwhich doesnât take much. Practically everything around him reminds him of you. Be it a cafĂŠ with soft lighting or a shop window filled with all the things he knows youâd like, or be it a quiet street that feels just right at sunset. Anything. Absolutely anything. Because somehow, everything leads back to you. He could be quite literally rushing to class, running a little too late, barely paying any attentionâuntil something catches his eyes. A cafĂŠ, decorated with cute little animal paintings, filled with the most adorable plushies he'd ever seen (ones he's going to irresponsibly buy for you). And suddenly, heâs slowing down, mentally bookmarking the place, already imagining bringing you there. How youâd react. What youâd say. How your hand would feel in his as you walk beside him. He didnât even go in. Doesnât even know if the drinks are worth it. But he stood there for a momentâŚthinking of you. Smiling to himself. Phainon could be having his usual morning runs by the park, under the excuse of improving his stamina, but heâs truly there to find the best picnic spot. It instantly reminds him of that day at the parkâthe picnic date that got completely ruined by the rain. Or at leastâŚit should have been ruined. But instead, you were both laughing, soaked to the skin, everything a messâand somehow, it became one of his favourite memories. Because you were there. Because you didnât mind. Because you kissed him anyway (and ticked one of the most cliche tasks on your bucket list).
༷ŕžŕ˝˛âĄ ËÖ´Ö´đęą đ Ë × yearningphainon!! who âaccidentallyâ ends up in your classes far more often than he should, using his usual excuse that itâs only occasional, not a habit he secretly formed and not because he missed you. He tells himself, tells you, that itâs just for a little while. Just to see you. Just to sit beside you for a bit. But somehow, it always turns into the entire lecture. He slips into the seat next to you like he belongs there, like itâs the most natural thing in the world (which might be with how often he shows up), offering you that soft, slightly sheepish smile when you glance at him. You have told him, multiple times, not to skip his classes. And he does listenâŚtechnically. He still keeps up. Still does exceptionally well. Still passes without issue. So realllyâŚcan you blame him? Especially when he looks at you like that? Like just being near you is worth it all. And at first, heâs quiet. Watching you. Admiring the way you focus, the way you take notes, the way you are diligently listening to your lecturer, the way you get so absorbed in your work. But eventually, as always, he gets restless. A small poke to your shoulder. A light tap against your cheek. Little doodles appearing in the corners of your notes. Small scribbles and a few âI love youâsâ and âI miss you.â Nothing too distractingâjust enough to remind you heâs there. Just enough to steal your attention for a moment.
༷ŕžŕ˝˛âĄ ËÖ´Ö´đęą đ Ë × yearningphainon!! who feels the ache and tiredness in his eyes from crying, the quiet sting every time he blinks. The burn every time he tries to stop himself from crying even more. Who takes arguments harder than he ever lets you see. Even after everything quiets down. Even after the words stop. Even if things are resolved orâŚleft hanging, it stays with him, it lingers in his heart. He lies there at night, staring at the ceiling, replaying every moment over and over againârecounting every word exchanged, the tone of your voice, the way the silence settled between you both the second nothing more could have altered the situationâŚand all the things he wishes he could have said differently. Or not said at all. It eats at him slowly, carving the insides of his heart until nothing of him remains. Because the last thing he ever wants to do isâŚhurt you. And yet, somehow, he still did. Still managed to tear your heart out. So he turns it inwards. Blames himself more than he ever blames you. Hates himself more than the situation itself. Because to him, you are not the problem. Losing you is. And the thought alone is enough to leave his chest tight, eyes aching, even if he tries to brush it off. All he really wants is to fix it all. To go back. To be close to you again, like nothing ever came between you two.
༷ŕžŕ˝˛âĄ ËÖ´Ö´đęą đ Ë × yearningphainon!! who tries to make things right in the softest, most sincere ways he knows how to. Heâs not exactly the best at saying things perfectly. Even when it does matter the most, he canât help but nervously trip over his words. So instead, he shows it. In small, clumsy, heartfelt attempts. Handmade gifts that donât always turn out the way he imaginedâedges uneven, parts falling apart just a little too easily. And when you point it out, teasing him gently, in hopes to lighten the mood up, he flushes immediately, trying to fix it, fumbling with it like he can somehow make it better on the spot. But he still gives it to you. Because itâs his. Because he made it for you, staying up all night to perfect it (attempting to perfect it). And then there are the letters. Carefully written, but not without flawsâink smudged here and there, words slightly uneven, faint marks where he might have paused a little too long. Apologies woven into every line. Not exaggerated. JustâŚsincere. And sometimes, he tries something different, like baking. Which usually ends with him asking his best friend, Mydei, to help halfway through, quietly admitting he has no idea what heâs doing (and he doesnât want to give you an underbaked cupcake). But he still brings it to you. Along with flowersâbecause he knows you like them, because he hopes itâll make you smile, because he just wants things to feel right again. And when you accept it? When you smile, even just a little? Thatâs enough for him. More than enough.
𧸠this headcanon looks crazy compared to my Uryu onesâŚI will do him justice okayyy ^.^
đ° rawrr enjoy :33














